THE EVOLUTION OF THEOLOGY: AN ANTHROPOLOGICAL STUDY

ESSAY #8 FROM "SCIENCE AND HEBREW TRADITION"


By Thomas Henry Huxley



I conceive that the origin, the growth, the decline, and the fall
of those speculations respecting the existence, the powers, and the
dispositions of beings analogous to men, but more or less devoid of
corporeal qualities, which may be broadly included under the head of
theology, are phenomena the study of which legitimately falls within
the province of the anthropologist. And it is purely as a question of
anthropology (a department of biology to which, at various times, I have
given a good deal of attention) that I propose to treat of the evolution
of theology in the following pages.

With theology as a code of dogmas which are to be believed, or at any
rate repeated, under penalty of present or future punishment, or as a
storehouse of anaesthetics for those who find the pains of life too
hard to bear, I have nothing to do; and, so far as it may be possible,
I shall avoid the expression of any opinion as to the objective truth or
falsehood of the systems of theological speculation of which I may find
occasion to speak. From my present point of view, theology is regarded
as a natural product of the operations of the human mind, under the
conditions of its existence, just as any other branch of science, or
the arts of architecture, or music, or painting are such products. Like
them, theology has a history. Like them also, it is to be met with in
certain simple and rudimentary forms; and these can be connected by a
multitude of gradations, which exist or have existed, among people of
various ages and races, with the most highly developed theologies of
past and present times. It is not my object to interfere, even in the
slightest degree, with beliefs which anybody holds sacred; or to alter
the conviction of any one who is of opinion that, in dealing with
theology, we ought to be guided by considerations different from those
which would be thought appropriate if the problem lay in the province
of chemistry or of mineralogy. And if people of these ways of thinking
choose to read beyond the present paragraph, the responsibility for
meeting with anything they may dislike rests with them and not with me.

We are all likely to be more familiar with the theological history of
the Israelites than with that of any other nation. We may therefore
fitly make it the first object of our studies; and it will be convenient
to commence with that period which lies between the invasion of Canaan
and the early days of the monarchy, and answers to the eleventh and
twelfth centuries B.C. or thereabouts. The evidence on which any
conclusion as to the nature of Israelitic theology in those days must be
based is wholly contained in the Hebrew Scriptures--an agglomeration
of documents which certainly belong to very different ages, but of the
exact dates and authorship of any one of which (except perhaps a few
of the prophetical writings) there is no evidence, either internal or
external, so far as I can discover, of such a nature as to justify more
than a confession of ignorance, or, at most, an approximate conclusion.
In this venerable record of ancient life, miscalled a book, when it
is really a library comparable to a selection of works from English
literature between the times of Beda and those of Milton, we have the
stratified deposits (often confused and even with their natural order
inverted) left by the stream of the intellectual and moral life of
Israel during many centuries. And, embedded in these strata, there are
numerous remains of forms of thought which once lived, and which,
though often unfortunately mere fragments, are of priceless value to
the anthropologist. Our task is to rescue these from their relatively
unimportant surroundings, and by careful comparison with existing forms
of theology to make the dead world which they record live again. In
other words, our problem is palaeontological, and the method pursued
must be the same as that employed in dealing with other fossil remains.

Among the richest of the fossiliferous strata to which I have alluded
are the books of Judges and Samuel. [1] It has often been observed that
these writings stand out, in marked relief from those which precede and
follow them, in virtue of a certain archaic freshness and of a greater
freedom from traces of late interpolation and editorial trimming.
Jephthah, Gideon and Samson are men of old heroic stamp, who would
look as much in place in a Norse Saga as where they are; and if the
varnish-brush of later respectability has passed over these memoirs of
the mighty men of a wild age, here and there, it has not succeeded in
effacing, or even in seriously obscuring, the essential characteristics
of the theology traditionally ascribed to their epoch.

There is nothing that I have met with in the results of Biblical
criticism inconsistent with the conviction that these books give us a
fairly trustworthy account of Israelitic life and thought in the times
which they cover; and, as such, apart from the great literary merit of
many of their episodes, they possess the interest of being, perhaps, the
oldest genuine history, as apart from mere chronicles on the one hand
and mere legends on the other, at present accessible to us.

But it is often said with exultation by writers of one party, and often
admitted, more or less unwillingly, by their opponents, that these
books are untrustworthy, by reason of being full of obviously unhistoric
tales. And, as a notable example, the narrative of Saul's visit to the
so-called "witch of Endor" is often cited. As I have already intimated,
I have nothing to do with theological partisanship, either heterodox or
orthodox, nor, for my present purpose, does it matter very much whether
the story is historically true, or whether it merely shows what the
writer believed; but, looking at the matter solely from the point of
view of an anthropologist, I beg leave to express the opinion that
the account of Saul's necromantic expedition is quite consistent with
probability. That is to say, I see no reason whatever to doubt, firstly,
that Saul made such a visit; and, secondly, that he and all who were
present, including the wise woman of Endor herself, would have given,
with entire sincerity, very much the same account of the business as
that which we now read in the twenty-eighth chapter of the first book of
Samuel; and I am further of opinion that this story is one of the most
important of those fossils, to which I have referred, in the material
which it offers for the reconstruction of the theology of the time. Let
us therefore study it attentively--not merely as a narrative which, in
the dramatic force of its gruesome simplicity, is not surpassed, if it
is equalled, by the witch scenes in Macbeth--but as a piece of evidence
bearing on an important anthropological problem.

We are told (1 Sam. xxviii.) that Saul, encamped at Gilboa, became
alarmed by the strength of the Philistine army gathered at Shunem. He
therefore "inquired of Jahveh," but "Jahveh answered him not, neither
by dreams, nor by Urim, nor by prophets." [2] Thus deserted by Jahveh,
Saul, in his extremity, bethought him of "those that had familiar
spirits, and the wizards," whom he is said, at some previous time, to
have "put out of the land"; but who seem, nevertheless, to have been
very imperfectly banished, since Saul's servants, in answer to his
command to seek him a woman "that hath a familiar spirit," reply without
a sign of hesitation or of fear, "Behold, there is a woman that hath
a familiar spirit at Endor"; just as, in some parts of England, a
countryman might tell any one who did not look like a magistrate or a
policeman, where a "wise woman" was to be met with. Saul goes to this
woman, who, after being assured of immunity, asks, "Whom shall I bring
up to thee?" whereupon Saul says, "Bring me up Samuel." The woman
immediately sees an apparition. But to Saul nothing is visible, for he
asks, "What seest thou?" And the woman replies, "I see Elohim coming up
out of the earth." Still the spectre remains invisible to Saul, for he
asks, "What form is he of?" And she replies, "An old man cometh up,
and he is covered with a robe." So far, therefore, the wise woman
unquestionably plays the part of a "medium," and Saul is dependent upon
her version of what happens.

The account continues:--

   And Saul perceived that it was Samuel, and he bowed with
   his face to the ground and did obeisance. And Samuel said to
   Saul, Why hast thou disquieted me to bring me up? And Saul
   answered, I am sore distressed: for the Philistines make war
   against me, and Elohim is departed from me and answereth me no
   more, neither by prophets nor by dreams; therefore I have called
   thee that thou mayest make known unto me what I shall do.
   And Samuel said, Wherefore then dost thou ask of me, seeing that
   Jahveh is departed from thee and is become thine adversary?
   And Jahveh hath wrought for himself, as he spake by me, and
   Jahveh hath rent the kingdom out of thine hand and given it to
   thy neighbour, even to David. Because thou obeyedst not the
   voice of Jahveh and didst not execute his fierce wrath upon
   Amalek, therefore hath Jahveh done this thing unto thee this
   day. Moreover, Jahveh will deliver Israel also with thee into
   the hands of the Philistines; and to-morrow shalt thou and thy
   sons be with me: Jahveh shall deliver the host of Israel also
   into the hand of the Philistines. Then Saul fell straightway his
   full length upon the earth and was sore afraid because of the
   words of Samuel... (v. 14-20).

The statement that Saul "perceived" that it was Samuel is not to be
taken to imply that, even now, Saul actually saw the shade of the
prophet, but only that the woman's allusion to the prophetic mantle and
to the aged appearance of the spectre convinced him that it was Samuel.
Reuss [3] in fact translates the passage "Alors Saul reconnut que
c'etait Samuel." Nor does the dialogue between Saul and Samuel
necessarily, or probably, signify that Samuel spoke otherwise than by
the voice of the wise woman. The Septuagint does not hesitate to call
her [Greek], that is to say, a ventriloquist, implying that it was she
who spoke--and this view of the matter is in harmony with the fact that
the exact sense of the Hebrew words which are translated as "a woman
that hath a familiar spirit" is "a woman mistress of _Ob._" _Ob_ means
primitively a leather bottle, such as a wine skin, and is applied alike
to the necromancer and to the spirit evoked. Its use, in these senses,
appears to have been suggested by the likeness of the hollow sound
emitted by a half-empty skin when struck, to the sepulchral tones in
which the oracles of the evoked spirits were uttered by the medium.
It is most probable that, in accordance with the general theory of
spiritual influences which obtained among the old Israelites, the spirit
of Samuel was conceived to pass into the body of the wise woman, and
to use her vocal organs to speak in his own name--for I cannot discover
that they drew any clear distinction between possession and inspiration.
[4]

If the story of Saul's consultation of the occult powers is to be
regarded as an authentic narrative, or, at any rate, as a statement
which is perfectly veracious so far as the intention of the narrator
goes--and, as I have said, I see no reason for refusing it this
character--it will be found, on further consideration, to throw a
flood of light, both directly and indirectly, on the theology of Saul's
countrymen--that is to say, upon their beliefs respecting the nature and
ways of spiritual beings.

Even without the confirmation of other abundant evidences to the same
effect, it leaves no doubt as to the existence, among them, of the
fundamental doctrine that man consists of a body and of a spirit, which
last, after the death of the body, continues to exist as a ghost. At the
time of Saul's visit to Endor, Samuel was dead and buried; but that his
spirit would be believed to continue to exist in Sheol may be concluded
from the well-known passage in the song attributed to Hannah, his
mother:--

     Jahveh killeth and maketh alive;
     He bringeth down to Sheol and bringeth up.
                                  (1 Sam. ii. 6.)

And it is obvious that this Sheol was thought to be a place underground
in which Samuel's spirit had been disturbed by the necromancer's
summons, and in which, after his return thither, he would be joined by
the spirits of Saul and his sons when they had met with their bodily
death on the hill of Gilboa. It is further to be observed that the
spirit, or ghost, of the dead man presents itself as the image of
the man himself--it is the man, not merely in his ordinary corporeal
presentment (even down to the prophet's mantle) but in his moral and
intellectual characteristics. Samuel, who had begun as Saul's friend and
ended as his bitter enemy, givee is annoyed
at Saul's presumption in disturbing him; and that, in Sheol, he is as
much the devoted servant of Jahveh and as much empowered to speak in
Jahveh's name as he was during his sojourn in the upper air.

It appears now to be universally admitted that, before the exile, the
Israelites had no belief in rewards and punishments after death, nor in
anything similar to the Christian heaven and hell; but our story proves
that it would be an error to suppose that they did not believe in the
continuance of individual existence after death by a ghostly simulacrum
of life. Nay, I think it would be very hard to produce conclusive
evidence that they disbelieved in immortality; for I am not aware that
there is anything to show that they thought the existence of the souls
of the dead in Sheol ever came to an end. But they do not seem to
have conceived that the condition of the souls in Sheol was in any way
affected by their conduct in life. If there was immortality, there was
no state of retribution in their theology. Samuel expects Saul and his
sons to come to him in Sheol.

The next circumstance to be remarked is that the name of _Elohim_ is
applied to the spirit which the woman sees "coming up out of the earth,"
that is to say, from Sheol. The Authorised Version translates this in
its literal sense "gods." The Revised Version gives "god" with "gods"
in the margin. Reuss renders the word by "spectre," remarking in a
note that it is not quite exact; but that the word Elohim expresses
"something divine, that is to say, superhuman, commanding respect and
terror" ("Histoire des Israelites," p. 321). Tuch, in his commentary on
Genesis, and Thenius, in his commentary on Samuel, express substantially
the same opinion. Dr. Alexander (in Kitto's "Cyclopaedia" s. v. "God")
has the following instructive remarks:--

   [_Elohim_ is] sometimes used vaguely to describe unseen
   powers or superhuman beings that are not properly thought of as
   divine. Thus the witch of Endor saw "Elohim ascending out of the
   earth" (1 Sam. xxviii. 13), meaning thereby some beings of an
   unearthly, superhuman character. So also in Zechariah xii. 8, it
   is said "the house of David shall be as Elohim, as the angel of
   the Lord," where, as the transition from Elohim to the angel of
   the Lord is a minori ad majus, we must regard the former as a
   vague designation of supernatural powers.

Dr. Alexander speaks here of "beings"; but there is no reason to
suppose that the wise woman of Endor referred to anything but a solitary
spectre; and it is quite clear that Saul understood her in this sense,
for he asks "What form is HE of?"

This fact, that the name of Elohim is applied to a ghost, or disembodied
soul, conceived as the image of the body in which it once dwelt, is
of no little importance. For it is well known that the same term was
employed to denote the gods of the heathen, who were thought to have
definite quasi-corporeal forms and to be as much real entities as any
other Elohim. [5] The difference which was supposed to exist between
the different Elohim was one of degree, not one of kind. Elohim was, in
logical terminology, the genus of which ghosts, Chemosh, Dagon,
Baal, and Jahveh were species. The Israelite believed Jahveh to be
immeasurably superior to all other kinds of Elohim. The inscription
on the Moabite stone shows that King Mesa held Chemosh to be, as
unquestionably, the superior of Jahveh. But if Jahveh was thus
supposed to differ only in degree from the undoubtedly zoomorphic or
anthropomorphic "gods of the nations," why is it to be assumed that
he also was not thought of as having a human shape? It is possible for
those who forget that the time of the great prophetic writers is at
least as remote from that of Saul as our day is from that of Queen
Elizabeth, to insist upon interpreting the gross notions current in the
earlier age and among the mass of the people by the refined conceptions
promulgated by a few select spirits centuries later. But if we take the
language constantly used concerning the Deity in the books of Genesis,
Exodus, Joshua, Judges, Samuel, or Kings, in its natural sense (and I am
aware of no valid reason which can be given for taking it in any other
sense), there cannot, to my mind, be a doubt that Jahveh was conceived
by those from whom the substance of these books is mainly derived, to
possess the appearance and the intellectual and moral attributes of a
man; and, indeed, of a man of just that type with which the Israelites
were familiar in their stronger and intellectually abler rulers and
leaders. In a well-known passage in Genesis (i. 27) Elohim is said to
have "created man in his own image, in the image of Elohim created he
him." It is "man" who is here said to be the image of Elohim--not man's
soul alone, still less his "reason," but the whole man. It is obvious
that for those who call a manlike ghost Elohim, there could be no
difficulty in conceiving any other Elohim under the same aspect. And if
there could be any doubt on this subject, surely it cannot stand in the
face of what we find in the fifth chapter, where, immediately after a
repetition of the statement that "Elohim created man, in the likeness
of Elohim made he him," it is said that Adam begat Seth "in his own
likeness, after his image." Does this mean that Seth resembled Adam only
in a spiritual and figurative sense? And if that interpretation of
the third verse of the fifth chapter of Genesis is absurd, why does it
become reasonable in the first verse of the same chapter?

But let us go further. Is not the Jahveh who "walks in the garden in
the cool of the day"; from whom one may hope to "hide oneself among the
trees"; of whom it is expressly said that "Moses and Aaron, Nadab and
Abihu, and seventy of the elders of Israel," saw the Elohim of Israel
(Exod. xxiv. 9-11); and that, although the seeing Jahveh was understood
to be a high crime and misdemeanour, worthy of death, under ordinary
circumstances, yet, for this once, he "laid not his hand on the nobles
of Israel"; "that they beheld Elohim and did eat and drink"; and that
afterwards Moses saw his back (Exod. xxxiii. 23)--is not this Deity
conceived as manlike in form? Again, is not the Jahveh who eats with
Abraham under the oaks at Mamre, who is pleased with the "sweet savour"
of Noah's sacrifice, to whom sacrifices are said to be "food" [6]--is
not this Deity depicted as possessed of human appetites? If this were
not the current Israelitish idea of Jahveh even in the eighth century
B.C., where is the point of Isaiah's scathing admonitions to his
countrymen: "To what purpose is the multitude of your sacrifices unto
me? saith Jahveh: I am full of the burnt-offerings of rams and the fat
of fed beasts; and I delight not in the blood of bullocks, or of lambs,
or of he-goats" (Isa. i. 11). Or of Micah's inquiry, "Will Jahveh be
pleased with thousands of rams or with ten thousands of rivers of oil?"
(vi. 7.) And in the innumerable passages in which Jahveh is said to be
jealous of other gods, to be angry, to be appeased, and to repent; in
which he is represented as casting off Saul because the king does not
quite literally execute a command of the most ruthless severity; or as
smiting Uzzah to death because the unfortunate man thoughtlessly, but
naturally enough, put out his hand to stay the ark from falling--can any
one deny that the old Israelites conceived Jahveh not only in the image
of a man, but in that of a changeable, irritable, and, occasionally,
violent man? There appears to me, then, to be no reason to doubt that
the notion of likeness to man, which was indubitably held of the ghost
Elohim, was carried out consistently throughout the whole series of
Elohim, and that Jahveh-Elohim was thought of as a being of the same
substantially human nature as the rest, only immeasurably more powerful
for good and for evil.

The absence of any real distinction between the Elohim of different
ranks is further clearly illustrated by the corresponding absence of any
sharp delimitation between the various kinds of people who serve as the
media of communication between them and men. The agents through whom
the lower Elohim are consulted are called necromancers, wizards, and
diviners, and are looked down upon by the prophets and priests of the
higher Elohim; but the "seer" [7] connects the two, and they are all
alike in their essential characters of media. The wise woman of Endor
was believed by others, and, I have little doubt, believed herself, to
be able to "bring up" whom she would from Sheol, and to be inspired,
whether in virtue of actual possession by the evoked Elohim, or
otherwise, with a knowledge of hidden things, I am unable to see that
Saul's servant took any really different view of Samuel's powers, though
he may have believed that he obtained them by the grace of the higher
Elohim. For when Saul fails to find his father's asses, his servant says
to him--

   Behold, there is in this city a man of Elohim, and he is a man
   that is held in honour; all that he saith cometh surely to pass;
   now let us go thither; peradventure, he can tell us concerning
   our journey whereon we go. Then said Saul to his servant, But
   behold if we go, what shall we bring the man? for the bread is
   spent in our vessels and there is not a present to bring to the
   man of Elohim. What have we? And the servant answered Saul again
   and said, Behold I have in my hand the fourth part of a shekel
   of silver: that will I give to the man of Elohim to tell us our
   way. (Beforetime in Israel when a man went to inquire of Elohim,
   then he said, Come and let us go to the Seer: for he that is now
   called a Prophet was beforetime called a Seer [8])
   (1 Sam. ix. 6-10).

In fact, when, shortly afterwards, Saul accidentally meets Samuel, he
says, "Tell me, I pray thee, where the Seer's house is." Samuel answers,
"I am the Seer." Immediately afterwards Samuel informs Saul that the
asses are found, though how he obtained his knowledge of the fact is not
stated. It will be observed that Samuel is not spoken of here as, in
any special sense, a seer or prophet of Jahveh, but as a "man of
Elohim"--that is to say, a seer having access to the "spiritual powers,"
just as the wise woman of Endor might have been said to be a "woman
of Elohim"--and the narrator's or editor's explanatory note seems to
indicate that "Prophet" is merely a name, introduced later than the time
of Samuel, for a superior kind of "Seer," or "man of Elohim." [9]

Another very instructive passage shows that Samuel was not only
considered to be diviner, seer, and prophet in one, but that he was
also, to all intents and purposes, priest of Jahveh--though, according
to his biographer, he was not a member of the tribe of Levi. At the
outset of their acquaintance, Samuel says to Saul, "Go up before me into
the high place," where, as the young maidens of the city had just before
told Saul, the Seer was going, "for the people will not eat till he
come, because he doth bless the sacrifice" (1 Sam. x. 12). The use of
the word "bless" here--as if Samuel were not going to sacrifice, but
only to offer a blessing or thanksgiving--is curious. But that Samuel
really acted as priest seems plain from what follows. For he not only
asks Saul to share in the customary sacrificial feast, but he disposes
in Saul's favour of that portion of the victim which the Levitical
legislation, doubtless embodying old customs, recognises as the priest's
special property. [10]

Although particular persons adopted the profession of media between men
and Elohim, there was no limitation of the power, in the view of ancient
Israel, to any special class of the population. Saul inquires of Jahveh
and builds him altars on his own account; and in the very remarkable
story told in the fourteenth chapter of the first book of Samuel
(v. 37-46), Saul appears to conduct the whole process of divination,
although he has a priest at his elbow. David seems to do the same.

Moreover, Elohim constantly appear in dreams--which in old Israel did
not mean that, as we should say, the subject of the appearance "dreamed
he saw the spirit"; but that he veritably saw the Elohim which, as a
soul, visited his soul while his body was asleep. And, in the course
of the history of Israel Jahveh himself thus appears to all sorts
of persons, non-Israelites as well as Israelites. Again, the Elohim
possess, or inspire, people against their will, as in the case of Saul
and Saul's messengers, and then these people prophesy--that is to say,
"rave"--and exhibit the ungoverned gestures attributed by a later age to
possession by malignant spirits. Apart from other evidence to be adduced
by and by, the history of ancient demonology and of modern revivalism
does not permit me to doubt that the accounts of these phenomena given
in the history of Saul may be perfectly historical.

In the ritual practices, of which evidence is to be found in the books
of Judges and Samuel, the chief part is played by sacrifices, usually
burnt offerings. Whenever the aid of the Elohim of Israel is sought, or
thanks are considered due to him, an altar is built, and oxen, sheep,
and goats are slaughtered and offered up. Sometimes the entire victim
is burnt as a holocaust; more frequently only certain parts, notably
the fat about the kidneys, are burnt on the altar. The rest is properly
cooked; and, after the reservation of a part for the priest, is made the
foundation of a joyous banquet, in which the sacrificer, his family,
and such guests as he thinks fit to invite, participate. [11] Elohim was
supposed to share in the feast, and it has been already shown that that
which was set apart on the altar, or consumed by fire, was spoken of as
the food of Elohim, who was thought to be influenced by the costliness,
or by the pleasant smell, of the sacrifice in favour of the sacrificer.

All this bears out the view that, in the mind of the old Israelite,
there was no difference, save one of degree, between one Elohim and
another. It is true that there is but little direct evidence to show
that the old Israelites shared the widespread belief of their own, and
indeed of all times, that the spirits of the dead not only continue to
exist, but are capable of a ghostly kind of feeding and are grateful for
such aliment as can be assimilated by their attenuated substance, and
even for clothes, ornaments, and weapons. [12] That they were familiar
with this doctrine in the time of the captivity is suggested by the
well-known reference of Ezekiel (xxxii. 27) to the "mighty that are
fallen of the uncircumcised, which are gone down to [Sheol] hell with
their weapons of war, and have laid their swords under their heads."
Perhaps there is a still earlier allusion in the "giving of food for the
dead" spoken of in Deuteronomy (xxvi. 14). [13]

It must be remembered that the literature of the old Israelites, as
it lies before us, has been subjected to the revisal of strictly
monotheistic editors, violently opposed to all kinds of idolatry, who
are not likely to have selected from the materials at their disposal any
obvious evidence, either of the practice under discussion, or of that
ancestor-worship which is so closely related to it, for preservation in
the permanent records of their people.

The mysterious objects known as _Teraphim,_ which are occasionally
mentioned in Judges, Samuel, and elsewhere, however, can hardly be
interpreted otherwise than as indications of the existence both of
ancestor-worship and of image-worship in old Israel. The teraphim
were certainly images of family gods, and, as such, in all probability
represented deceased ancestors. Laban indignantly demands of his
son-in-law, "Wherefore hast thou stolen my Elohim?" which Rachel, who
must be assumed to have worshipped Jacob's God, Jahveh, had carried off,
obviously because she, like her father, believed in their divinity. It
is not suggested that Jacob was in any way scandalised by the idolatrous
practices of his favourite wife, whatever he may have thought of her
honesty when the truth came to light; for the teraphim seem to have
remained in his camp, at least until he "hi camp, at least until he "hid" his strange gods "under
the oak that was by Shechem" (Gen. xxxv. 4). And indeed it is open
to question if he got rid of them then, for the subsequent history of
Israel renders it more than doubtful whether the teraphim were regarded
as "strange gods" even as late as the eighth century B.C.

The writer of the books of Samuel takes it quite as a matter of course
that Michal, daughter of one royal Jahveh worshipper and wife of the
servant of Jahveh _par excellence,_ the pious David, should have her
teraphim handy, in her and David's chamber, when she dresses them up in
their bed into a simulation of her husband, for the purpose of deceiving
her father's messengers. Even one of the early prophets, Hosea, when
he threatens that the children of Israel shall abide many days without
"ephod or teraphim" (iii. 4), appears to regard both as equally proper
appurtenances of the suspended worship of Jahveh, and equally certain
to be restored when that is resumed. When we further take into
consideration that only in the reign of Hezekiah was the brazen serpent,
preserved in the temple and believed to be the work of Moses, destroyed,
and the practice of offering incense to it, that is, worshipping it,
abolished--that Jeroboam could set up "calves of gold" for Israel to
worship, with apparently none but a political object, and certainly with
no notion of creating a schism among the worshippers of Jahveh, or of
repelling the men of Judah from his standard--it seems obvious, either
that the Israelites of the tenth and eleventh centuries B.C. knew not
the second commandment, or that they construed it merely as part of the
prohibition to worship any supreme god other than Jahveh, which precedes
it.

In seeking for information about the teraphim, I lighted upon the
following passage in the valuable article on that subject by Archdeacon
Farrar, in Ritto's "Cyclopaedia of Biblical Literature," which is
so much to the purpose of my argument, that I venture to quote it in
full:--

   The main and certain results of this review are that the
   teraphim were rude human images; that the use of them was an
   antique Aramaic custom; that there is reason to suppose them to
   have been images of deceased ancestors; that they were consulted
   oracularly; that they were not confined to Jews; that their use
   continued down to the latest period of Jewish history;
   and lastly, that although the enlightened prophets and strictest
   later kings regarded them as idolatrous, the priests were much
   less averse to such images, and their cult was not considered in
   any way repugnant to the pious worship of Elohim, nay, even to
   the worship of him "under the awful title of Jehovah." In fact,
   they involved _a monotheistic idolatry very different indeed
   from polytheism;_ and the tolerance of them by priests, as
   compared with the denunciation of them by the prophets, offers a
   close analogy to the views of the Roman Catholics respecting
   pictures and images as compared with the views of Protestants.
   It was against this use of idolatrous symbols and emblems in a
   monotheistic worship that the _second_ commandment was
   directed, whereas the first is aimed against the graver sin of
   direct polytheism. But the whole history of Israel shows how
   utterly and how early the law must have fallen into desuetude.
   The worship of the golden calf and of the calves at Dan and
   Bethel, against which, so far as we know, neither Elijah nor
   Elisha said a single word; the tolerance of high places,
   teraphim and betylia; the offering of incense for centuries to
   the brazen serpent destroyed by Hezekiah; the occasional
   glimpses of the most startling irregularities sanctioned
   apparently even in the temple worship itself, prove most
   decisively that a pure monotheism and an independence of symbols
   was the result of a slow and painful course of God's disciplinal
   dealings among the noblest thinkers of a single nation, and not,
   as is so constantly and erroneously urged, the instinct of the
   whole Semitic race; in other words, one single branch of the
   Semites was under God's providence _educated_ into pure
   monotheism only by centuries of misfortune and series of
   inspired men (vol. iii. p. 986).

It appears to me that the researches of the anthropologist lead him to
conclusions identical in substance, if not in terms, with those here
enunciated as the result of a careful study of the same subject from a
totally different point of view.

There is abundant evidence in the books of Samuel and elsewhere that
an article of dress termed an _ephod_ was supposed to have a peculiar
efficacy in enabling the wearer to exercise divination by means of
Jahveh-Elohim. Great and long continued have been the disputes as to the
exact nature of the ephod--whether it always means something to wear, or
whether it sometimes means an image. But the probabilities are that
it usually signifies a kind of waistcoat or broad zone, with
shoulder-straps, which the person who "inquired of Jahveh" put on. In
1 Samuel xxiii. 2 David appears to have inquired without an ephod, for
Abiathar the priest is said to have "come down with an ephod in his
hand" only subsequently. And then David asks for it before inquiring of
Jahveh whether the men of Keilah would betray him or not. David's action
is obviously divination pure and simple; and it is curious that he seems
to have worn the ephod himself and not to have employed Abiathar as a
medium. How the answer was given is not clear though the probability is
that it was obtained by casting lots. The _Urim_ and _Thummim_ seem to
have been two such lots of a peculiarly sacred character, which were
carried in the pocket of the high priest's "breastplate." This last was
worn along with the ephod.

With the exception of one passage (1 Sam. xiv. 18) the ark is ignored in
the history of Saul. But in this place the Septuagint reads "ephod" for
ark, while in 1 Chronicles xiii. 3 David says that "we sought not unto
it [the ark] in the days of Saul." Nor does Samuel seem to have paid
any regard to the ark after its return from Philistia; though, in his
childhood, he is said to have slept in "the temple of Jahveh, where the
ark of Elohim was" (1 Sam. iii. 3), at Shiloh and there to have been the
seer of the earliest apparitions vouchsafed to him by Jahveh. The
space between the cherubim or winged images on the canopy or cover
(_Kapporeth_) of this holy chest was held to be the special seat of
Jahveh--the place selected for a temporary residence of the Supreme
Elohim who had, after Aaron and Phineas, Eli and his sons for priests
and seers. And, when the ark was carried to the camp at Eben-ezer, there
can be no doubt that the Israelites, no less than the Philistines, held
that "Elohim is come into the camp" (iv. 7), and that the one, as much
as the other, conceived that the Israelites had summoned to their aid
a powerful ally in "these (or this) mighty Elohim"--elsewhere called
Jahve-Sabaoth, the Jahveh of Hosts. If the "temple" at Shiloh was
the pentateuchal tabernacle, as is suggested by the name of "tent of
meeting" given to it in 1 Samuel ii. 22, it was essentially a large
tent, though constituted of very expensive and ornate materials; if, on
the other hand, it was a different edifice, there can be little doubt
that this "house of Jahveh" was built on the model of an ordinary house
of the time. But there is not the slightest evidence that, during the
reign of Saul, any greater importance attached to this seat of the cult
of Jahveh than to others. Sanctuaries, and "high places" for sacrifice,
were scattered all over the country from Dan to Beersheba. And, as
Samuel is said to have gone up to one of these high places to bless the
sacrifice, it may be taken for tolerably certain that he knew nothing of
the Levitical laws which severely condemn the high places and those who
sacrifice away from the sanctuary hallowed by the presence of the ark.

There is no evidence that, during the time of the Judges and of Samuel,
any one occupied the position of the high priest of later days. And
persons who were neither priests nor Levites sacrificed and divined or
"inquired of Jahveh," when they pleased and where they pleased, without
the least indication that they, or any one else in Israel at that
time, knew they were doing wrong. There is no allusion to any special
observance of the Sabbath; and the references to circumcision are
indirect.

Such are the chief articles of the theological creed of the old
Israelites, which are made known to us by the direct evidence of the
ancient record to which we have had recourse, and they are as remarkable
for that which they contain as for that which is absent from them.
They reveal a firm conviction that, when death takes place, a something
termed a soul or spirit leaves the body and continues to exist in Sheol
for a period of indefinite duration, even though there is no proof of
any belief in absolute immortality; that such spirits can return to
earth to possess and inspire the living; that they are, in appearance
and in disposition, likenesses of the men to whom they belonged, but
that, as spirits, they have larger powers and are freer from physical
limitations; that they thus form a group among a number of kinds of
spiritual existences known as Elohim, of whom Jahveh, the national
God of Israel, is one; that, consistently with this view, Jahveh was
conceived as a sort of spirit, human in aspect and in senses, and with
many human passions, but with immensely greater intelligence and power
than any other Elohim, whether human or divine. Further, the evidence
proves that this belief was the basis of the Jahveh-worship to which
Samuel and his followers were devoted; that there is strong reason for
believing, and none for doubting, that idolatry, in the shape of the
worship of the family gods or teraphim, was practised by sincere and
devout Jahveh-worshippers; that the ark, with its protective tent or
tabernacle, was regarded as a specially, but by no means exclusively,
favoured sanctuary of Jahveh; that the ephod appears to have had a
particular value for those who desired to divine by the help of Jahveh;
and that divination by lots was practised before Jahveh. On the other
hand, there is not the slightest evidence of any belief in retribution
after death, but the contrary; ritual obligations have at least as
strong sanction as moral; there are clear indications that some of
the most stringent of the Levitical laws were unknown even to Samuel;
priests often appear to be superseded by laymen, even in the performance
of sacrifices and divination; and no line of demarcation can be drawn
between necromancer, wizard, seer, prophet, and priest, each of whom is
regarded, like all the rest, as a medium of communication between the
world of Elohim and that of living men.

The theological system thus defined offers to the anthropologist no
feature which is devoid of a parallel in the known theologies of other
races of mankind, even of those who inhabit parts of the world most
remote from Palestine. And the foundation of the whole, the ghost
theory, is exactly that theological speculation which is the most widely
spread of all, and the most deeply rooted among uncivilised men. I am
able to base this statement, to some extent, on facts within my own
knowledge. In December 1848, H.M.S. _Rattlesnake,_ the ship to which
I then belonged, was anchored off Mount Ernest, an island in Torres
Straits. The people were few and well disposed; and, when a friend of
mine (whom I will call B.) and I went ashore, we made acquaintance
with an old native, Paouda by name. In course of time we became quite
intimate with the old gentleman, partly by the rendering of mutual good
offices, but chiefly because Paouda believed he had discovered that B.
was his father-in-law. And his grounds for this singular conviction were
very remarkable. We had made a long stay at Cape York hard by; and, in
accordance with a theory which is widely spread among the Australians,
that white men are the reincarnated spirits of black men, B. was held to
be the ghost, or _narki,_ of a certain Mount Ernest native, one Antarki,
who had lately died, on the ground of some real or fancied resemblance
to the latter. Now Paouda had taken to wife a daughter of Antarki's,
named Domani, and as soon as B. informed him that he was the ghost of
Antarki, Paouda at once admitted the relationship and acted upon it.
For, as all the women on the island had hidden away in fear of the ship,
and we were anxious to see what they were like, B. pleaded pathetically
with Paouda that it would be very unkind not to let him see his daughter
and grandchildren. After a good deal of hesitation and the exaction of
pledges of deep secrecy, Paouda consented to take B., and myself as B.'s
friend, to see Domani and the three daughters, by whom B. was received
quite as one of the family, while I was courteously welcomed on his
account.

This scene made an impression upon me which is not yet effaced. It left
no question on my mind of the sincerity of the strange ghost theory
of these savages, and of the influence which their belief has on their
practical life. I had it in my mind, as well as many a like result
of subsequent anthropological studies, when, in 1869, [14] I wrote as
follows:--

   There are savages without God in any proper sense of the word,
   but none without ghosts. And the Fetishism, Ancestor-worship,
   Hero-worship, and Demonology of primitive savages are all, I
   believe, different manners of expression of their belief in
   ghosts, and of the anthropomorphic interpretation of out-of-the-
   way events which is its concomitant. Witchcraft and sorcery are
   the practical expressions of these beliefs; and they stand in
   the same relation to religious worship as the simple
   anthropomorphism of children or savages does to theology.

I do not quote myself with any intention of making a claim to
originality in putting forth this view; for I have since discovered that
the same conception is virtually contained in the great "Discours sur
l'Histoire Universelle" of Bossuet, now more than two centuries old:
[15]--

   Le culte des hommes morta faisoit presque tout le fond de
   l'idolatrie; presque tous les hommes sacrificient aux manes,
   c'est-a-dire aux ames des morts. De si anciennes erreurs nous
   font voir a la verite combien etoit ancienne la croyance de
   l'immortalite de l'ame, et nous montrent qu'elle doit etre
   rangee parmi les premieres traditions du genre humain.
   Mais l'homme, qui gatoit tout, en avoit etrangement abuse,
   puisqu'elle le portoit a sacrificer aux morts. On alloit meme
   jusqu'a cet exces, de leur sacrifier des hommes vivans; ou tuoit
   leurs esclaves, et meme leurs femmes, pour les aller servir dans
   l'autre monde.

Among more modern writers J. G. Muller, in his excellent "Geschichte
der amerikanischen Urreligionen" (1855), clearly recognises
"gespensterhafter Geisterglaube" as the foundation of all savage
and semi-civilised theology, and I need do no more than mention the
important developments of the same view which are to be found in Mr.
Tylor's "Primitive Culture," and in the writings of Mr. Herbert Spencer,
especially his recently-published "Ecclesiastical Institutions." [16]

It is a matter of fact that, whether we direct our attention to
the older conditions of civilised societies, in Japan, in China, in
Hindostan, in Greece, or in Rome, [17] we find, underlying all
other theological notions, the belief in ghosts, with its inevitable
concomitant sorcery; and a primitive cult, in the shape of a worship of
ancestors, which is essentially an attempt to please, or appease their
ghosts. The same thing is true of old Mexico and Peru, and of all the
semi-civilised or savage peoples who have developed a definite cult; and
in those who, like the natives of Australia, have not even a cult, the
belief in, and fear of, ghosts is as strong as anywhere else. The most
clearly demonstrable article of the theology of the Israelites in the
eleventh and twelfth centuries B.C. is therefore simply the article
which is to be found in all primitive theologies, namely, the belief
that a man has a soul which continues to exist after death for a longer
or shorter time, and may return, as a ghost, with a divine, or at least
demonic, character, to influence for good or evil (and usually for
evil) the affairs of the living. But the correspondence between the old
Israelitic and other archaic forms of theology extends to details. If,
in order to avoid all chance of direct communication, we direct
our attention to the theology of semi-civilised people, such as the
Polynesian Islanders, separated by the greatest possible distance,
and by every conceivable physical barrier, from the inhabitants of
Palestine, we shall find not merely that all the features of old
Israelitic theology, which are revealed in the records cited, are found
among them; but that extant information as to the inner mind of these
people tends to remove many of the difficulties which those who have not
studied anthropology find in the Hebrew narrative.

One of the best sources, if not the best source, of information on these
topics is Mariner's _Tonga Islands,_ which tells us of the condition of
Cook's "Friendly Islanders" eighty years ago, before European influence
was sensibly felt among them. Mariner, a youth of fair education and of
no inconsiderable natural ability (as the work which was drawn up from
the materials he furnished shows), was about fifteen years of age when
his ship was attacked and plundered by the Tongans: he remained four
years in the islands, familiarised himself with the language, lived the
life of the people, became intimate with many of them, and had every
opportunity of acquainting himself with their opinions, as well as with
their habits and customs. He seems to have been devoid of prejudices,
theological or other, and the impression of strict accuracy which his
statements convey has been justified by all the knowledge of Polynesian
life which has been subsequently acquired.

It is desirable, therefore, to pay close attention to that which Mariner
tells us about the theological views of these people: [18]--

   The human soul, after its separation from the body, is
   termed a _hotooa_ (a god or spirit), and is believed to
   exist in the shape of the body; to have the same propensities as
   during life, but to be corrected by a more enlightened
   understanding, by which it readily distinguishes good from evil,
   truth from falsehood, right from wrong; having the same
   attributes as the original gods, but in a minor degree, and
   having its dwelling for ever in the happy regions of Bolotoo,
   holding the same rank in regard to other souls as during this
   life; it has, however, the power of returning to Tonga to
   inspire priests, relations, or others, or to appear in dreams to
   those it wishes to admonish; and sometimes to the external eye
   in the form of a ghost or apparition; but this power of
   reappearance at Tonga particularly belongs to the souls of
   chiefs rather than of matabooles. (vol. ii. p. 130).

The word "hotooa" is the same as that which is usually spelt "atua"
by Polynesian philologues, and it will be convenient to adopt this
spelling. Now under this head of "_Atuas_ or supernatural intelligent
beings" the Tongans include:--

"1. The original gods. 2. The souls of nobles that have all attributes
in common with the first but inferior in degree. 3. The souls of
matabooles [19] that are still inferior, and have not the power as the
two first have of coming back to Tonga to inspire the priest, though
they are supposed to have the power of appearing to their relatives.
4. The original attendants or servants, as it were, of the gods, who,
although they had their origin and have ever since existed in Bolotoo,
are still inferior to the third class. 5. The _Atua pow_ or mischievous
gods. 6. _Mooi,_ or the god that supports the earth and does not belong
to Bolotoo (vol. ii. pp. 103, 104)."

From this it appears that the "Atuas" of the Polynesian are exactly
equivalent to the "Elohim" of the old Israelite. [20] They comprise
everything spiritual, from a ghost to a god, and from "the merely
tutelar gods to particular private families" (vol, ii. p. 104), to
Ta-li-y-Tooboo, who was the national god of Tonga. The Tongans had no
doubt that these Atuas daily and hourly influenced their destinies
and could, conversely, be influenced by them. Hence their "piety," the
incessant acts of sacrificial worship which occupied their lives, and
their belief in omens and charms. Moreover, the Atuas were believed to
visit particular persons,--their own priests in the case of the higher
gods, but apparently anybody in that of the lower,--and to inspire them
by a process which was conceived to involve the actual residence of the
god, for the time being, in the person inspired, who was thus rendered
capable of prophesying (vol. ii. p. 100). For the Tongan, therefore,
inspiration indubitably was possession.

When one of the higher gods was invoked, through his priest, by a chief
who wished to consult the oracle, or, in old Israelitic phraseology,
to "inquire of," the god, a hog was killed and cooked over night, and,
together with plantains, yams, and the materials for making the peculiar
drink _kava_ (of which the Tongans were very fond), was carried next day
to the priest. A circle, as for an ordinary kava-drinking entertainment,
was then formed; but the priest, as the representative of the god,
took the highest place, while the chiefs sat outside the circle, as an
expression of humility calculated to please the god.


   As soon as they are all seated the priest is considered as
   inspired, the god being supposed to exist within him from that
   moment. He remains for a considerable time in silence with his
   hands clasped before him, his eyes are cast down and he rests
   perfectly still. During the time the victuals are being shared
   out and the kava preparing, the matabooles sometimes begin to
   consult him; sometimes he answers, and at other times not;
   in either case he remains with his eyes cast down. Frequently he
   will not utter a word till the repast is finished and the kava
   too. When he speaks he generally begins in a low and very
   altered tone of voice, which gradually rises to nearly its
   natural pitch, though sometimes a little above it. All that he
   says is supposed to be the declaration of the god, and he
   accordingly speaks in the first person, as if he were the god.
   All this is done generally without any apparent inward emotion
   or outward agitation; but, on some occasions, his countenance
   becomes fierce, and as it were inflamed, and his whole frame
   agitated with inward feeling; he is seized with an universal
   trembling, the perspiration breaks out on his forehead, and his
   lips turning black are convulsed; at length tears start in
   floods from his eyes, his breast heaves with great emotion, and
   his utterance is choked. These symptoms gradually subside.
   Before this paroxysm comes on, and after it is over, he often
   eats as much as four hungry men under other circumstances could
   devour. The fit being now gone off, he remains for some time
   calm and then takes up a club that is placed by him for the
   purpose, turns it over and regards it attentively; he then looks
   up earnestly, now to the right, now to the left, and now again
   at the club; afterwards he looks up again and about him in like
   manner, and then again fixes his eyes on the club, and so on for
   several times. At length he suddenly raises the club, and, after
   a moment's pause, strikes the ground or the adjacent part of the
   house with considerable force, immediately the god leaves him,
   and he rises up and retires to the back of the ring among the
   people (vol. i. pp. 100, 101).

The phenomena thus described, in language which, to any one who is
familiar with the manifestations of abnormal mental states among
ourselves, bears the stamp of fidelity, furnish a most instructive
commentary upon the story of the wise woman of Endor. As in the latter,
we have the possession by the spirit or soul (Atua, Elohim), the strange
voice, the speaking in the first person. Unfortunately nothing (beyond
the loud cry) is mentioned as to the state of the wise woman of Endor.
But what we learn from other sources (_e.g._ 1 Sam. x. 20-24) respecting
the physical concomitants of inspiration among the old Israelites
has its exact equivalent in this and other accounts of Polynesian
prophetism. An excellent authority, Moerenhout, who lived among the
people of the Society Islands many years and knew them well, says that,
in Tahiti, the _role_ of the prophet had very generally passed out of
the hands of the priests into that of private persons who professed
to represent the god, often assumed his name, and in this capacity
prophesied. I will not run the risk of weakening the force of
Moerenhout's description of the prophetic state by translating it:--

"Un individu, dans cet etat, avait le bras gauche enveloppe d'un morceau
d'etoffe, signe de la presence de la Divinite. Il ne parlait que d'un
ton imperieux et vehement. Ses attaques, quand il allait prophetiser,
etaient aussi effroyables qu'imposantes. Il tremblait d'abord de tous
ses membres, la figure enflee, les yeux hagards, rouges et etincelants
d'une expression sauvage. Il gesticulait, articulait des mots vides de
sens, poussait des cris horribles qui faisaient tressaillir tous
les assistants, et s'exaltait parfois au point qu'on n'osait par
l'approcher. Autour de lui, le silence de la terreur et du respect....
C'est alors qu'il repondait aux questions, annoncait l'avenir, le destin
des batailles, la volonte des dieux; et, chose etonnante! au sein de
ce delire, de cet enthousiasme religieux, son langage etait grave,
imposant, son eloquence noble et persuasive." [21]

Just so Saul strips off his clothes, "prophesies" before Samuel, and
lies down "naked all that day and night."

Both Mariner and Moerenhout refuse to have recourse to the hypothesis of
imposture in order to account for the inspired state of the Polynesian
prophets. On the contrary, they fully believe in their sincerity.
Mariner tells the story of a young chief, an acquaintance of his, who
thought himself possessed by the Atua of a dead woman who had fallen in
love with him, and who wished him to die that he might be near her in
Bolotoo. And he died accordingly. But the most valuable evidence on this
head is contained in what the same authority says about King Finow's
son. The previous king, Toogoo Ahoo, had been assassinated by Finow, and
his soul, become an Atua of divine rank in Bolotoo, had been pleased
to visit and inspire Finow's son--with what particular object does not
appear.

   When this young chief returned to Hapai, Mr. Mariner, who was
   upon a footing of great friendship with him, one day asked him
   how he felt himself when the spirit of Toogoo Ahoo visited him;
   he replied that he could not well describe his feelings, but the
   best he could say of it was, that he felt himself all over in a
   glow of heat and quite restless and uncomfortable, and did not
   feel his own personal identity, as it were, but seemed to have a
   mind different from his own natural mind, his thoughts wandering
   upon strange and unusual subjects, though perfectly sensible of
   surrounding objects. He next asked him how he knew it was the
   spirit of Toogoo Ahoo? His answer was, 'There's a fool! How can
   I tell you _how_ I knew it! I felt and knew it was so by a
   kind of consciousness; my _mind_ told me that it was Toogoo
   Ahoo (vol. i. pp. 104, 105).

Finow's son was evidently made for a theological disputant, and fell
back at once on the inexpugnable stronghold of faith when other evidence
was lacking. "There's a fool! I know it is true, because I know it," is
the exemplar and epitome of the sceptic-crushing process in other places
than the Tonga Islands.

The island of Bolotoo, to which all the souls (of the upper classes at
any rate) repair after the death of the body, and from which they return
at will to interfere, for good or evil, with the lives of those whom
they have left behind, obviously answers to Sheol. In Tongan tradition,
this place of souls is a sort of elysium above ground and pleasant
enough to live in. But, in other parts of Polynesia, the corresponding
locality, which is called Po, has to be reached by descending into the
earth, and is represented dark and gloomy like Sheol. But it was not
looked upon as a place of rewards and punishments in any sense. Whether
in Bolotoo or in Po, the soul took the rank it had in the flesh; and,
a shadow, lived among the shadows of the friends and houses and food of
its previous life.

The Tongan theologians recognised several hundred gods; but there was
one, already mentioned as their national god, whom they regarded as far
greater than any of the others, "as a great chief from the top of the
sky down to the bottom of the earth" (Mariner, vol. ii. p. 106). He
was also god of war, and the tutelar deity of the royal family, whoever
happened to be the incumbent of the royal office for the time being. He
had no priest except the king himself, and his visits, even to
royalty, were few and far between. The name of this supreme deity was
Ta-li-y-Tooboo, the literal meaning of which is said to be "Wait there,
Tooboo," from which it would appear that the peculiar characteristic
of Ta-li-y-Tooboo, in the eyes of his worshippers, was persistence of
duration. And it is curious to notice, in relation to this circumstance,
that many Hebrew philologers have thought the meaning of Jahveh to be
best expressed by the word "Eternal." It would probably be difficult to
express the notion of an eternal being, in a dialect so little fitted
to convey abstract conceptions as Tongan, better than by that of one who
always "waits there."

The characteristics of the gods in Tongan theology are exactly those
of men whose shape they are supposed to possess, only they have more
intelligence and greater power. The Tongan belief that, after death, the
human Atua more readily distinguishes good from evil, runs parallel with
the old Israelitic conception of Elohim expressed in Genesis, "Ye shall
be as Elohim, knowing good from evil." They further agreed with the old
Israelites, that "all rewards for virtue and punishments for vice happen
to men in this world only, and come immediately from the gods" (vol. ii.
p. 100). Moreover, they were of opinion that though the gods approve of
some kinds of virtue, are displeased with some kinds of vice, and, to a
certain extent, protect or forsake their worshippers according to
their moral conduct, yet neglect to pay due respect to the deities, and
forgetfulness to keep them in good humour, might be visited with even
worse consequences than moral delinquency. And those who will carefully
study the so-called "Mosaic code" contained in the books of Exodus,
Leviticus, and Numbers, will see that, though Jahveh's prohibitions of
certain forms of immorality are strict and sweeping, his wrath is quite
as strongly kindled against infractions of ritual ordinances. Accidental
homicide may go unpunished, and reparation may be made for wilful theft.
On the other hand, Nadab and Abihu, who "offered strange fire before
Jahveh, which he had not commanded them," were swiftly devoured by
Jahveh's fire; he who sacrificed anywhere except at the allotted place
was to be "cut off from his people"; so was he who ate blood; and the
details of the upholstery of the Tabernacle, of the millinery of the
priests' vestments, and of the cabinet work of the ark, can plead direct
authority from Jahveh, no less than moral commands.

Amongst the Tongans, the sacrifices were regarded as gifts of food and
drink offered to the divine Atuas, just as the articles deposited by the
graves of the recently dead were meant as food for Atuas of lower rank.
A kava root was a constant form of offering all over Polynesia. In the
excellent work of the Rev. George Turner, entitled _Nineteen Years in
Polynesia_ (p. 241), I find it said of the Samoans (near neighbours of
the Tongans):--

   _The offerings_ were principally cooked food. As in ancient
   Greece so in Samoa, the first cup was in honour of the god.
   It was either poured out on the ground or _waved_ towards
   the heavens, reminding us again of the Mosaic ceremonies.
   The chiefs all drank a portion out of the same cup, according to
   rank; and after that, the food brought as an offering was
   divided and eaten '_there before the Lord._'

In Tonga, when they consulted a god who had a priest, the latter, as
representative of the god, had the first cup; but if the god, like
Ta-li-y-Tooboo, had no priest, then the chief place was left vacant, and
was supposed to be occupied by the god himself. When the first cup of
kava was filled, the mataboole who acted as master of the ceremonies
said, "Give it to your god," and it was offered, though only as a matter
of form. In Tonga and Samoa there were many sacred places or _morais,_
with houses of the ordinary construction, but which served as temples in
consequence of being dedicated to various gods; and there were altars
on which the sacrifices were offered; nevertheless there were few or
no images. Mariner mentions none in Tonga, and the Samoans seem to have
been regarded as no better than atheists by other Polynesians because
they had none. It does not appear that either of these peoples had
images even of their family or ancestral gods.

In Tahiti and the adjacent islands, Moerenhout (t. i. p. 471) makes the
very interesting observation, not only that idols were often absent,
but that, where they existed, the images of the gods served merely as
depositories for the proper representatives of the divinity. Each of
these was called a _maro aurou,_ and was a kind of girdle artistically
adorned with red, yellow, blue, and black feathers--the red feathers
being especially important--which were consecrated and kept as sacred
objects within the idols. They were worn by great personages on solemn
occasions, and conferred upon their wearers a sacred and almost divine
character. There is no distinct evidence that the _maro aurou_ was
supposed to have any special efficacy in divination, but one cannot fail
to see a certain parallelism between this holy girdle, which endowed its
wearer with a particular sanctity, and the ephod.

According to the Rev. R. Taylor, the New Zealanders formerly used the
word _karakia_ (now employed for "prayer") to signify a "spell, charm,
or incantation," and the utterance of these karakias constituted the
chief part of their cult. In the south, the officiating priest had a
small image, "about eighteen inches long, resembling a peg with a
carved head," which reminds one of the form commonly attributed to the
teraphim.

"The priest first bandaged a fillet of red parrot feathers under the
god's chin, which was called his pahau or beard; this bandage was made
of a certain kind of sennet, which was tied on in a peculiar way. When
this was done it was taken possession of by the Atua, whose spirit
entered it. The priest then either held it in the hand and vibrated it
in the air whilst the powerful karakia was repeated, or he tied a piece
of string (formed of the centre of a flax leaf) round the neck of the
image and stuck it in the ground. He sat at a little distance from it,
leaning against a tuahu, a short stone pillar stuck in the ground in a
slanting position and, holding the string in his hand, he gave the god a
jerk to arrest his attention, lest he should be otherwise engaged, like
Baal of old, either hunting, fishing, or sleeping, and therefore must
be awaked.... The god is supposed to make use of the priest's tongue in
giving a reply. Image-worship appears to have been confined to one part
of the island. The Atua was supposed only to enter the image for the
occasion. The natives declare they did not worship the image itself, but
only the Atua it represented, and that the image was merely used as a
way of approaching him." [22]

This is the excuse for image-worship which the more intelligent
idolaters make all the world over; but it is more interesting to observe
that, in the present case, we seem to have the equivalents of divination
by teraphim, with the aid of something like an ephod (which, however, is
used to sanctify the image and not the priest) mixed up together. Many
Hebrew archaeologists have supposed that the term "ephod" is sometimes
used for an image (particularly in the case of Gideon's ephod), and the
story of Micah, in the book of Judges, shows that images were, at any
rate, employed in close association with the ephod. If the pulling of
the string to call the attention of the god seems as absurd to us as
it appears to have done to the worthy missionary, who tells us of the
practice, it should be recollected that the high priest of Jahveh was
ordered to wear a garment fringed with golden bells.


   And it shall be upon Aaron to minister; and the sound thereof
   shall be heard when he goeth in unto the holy place before
   Jahveh, and when he cometh out, that he die not (Exod.
   xxviii. 35).

An escape from the obvious conclusion suggested by this passage has
been sought in the supposition that these bells rang for the sake of
the worshippers, as at the elevation of the host in the Roman Catholic
ritual; but then why should the priest be threatened with the well-known
penalty for inadvisedly beholding the divinity?

In truth, the intermediate step between the Maori practice and that of
the old Israelites is furnished by the Kami temples in Japan. These are
provided with bells which the worshippers who present themselves ring,
in order to call the attention of the ancestor-god to their presence.
Grant the fundamental assumption of the essentially human character of
the spirit, whether Atua, Kami, or Elohim, and all these practices are
equally rational.

The sacrifices to the gods in Tonga, and elsewhere in Polynesia, were
ordinarily social gatherings, in which the god, either in his own person
or in that of his priestly representative, was supposed to take part.
These sacrifices were offered on every occasion of importance, and even
the daily meals were prefaced by oblations and libations of food and
drink, exactly answering to those offered by the old Romans to their
manes, penates, and lares. The sacrifices had no moral significance,
but were the necessary result of the theory that the god was either a
deified ghost of an ancestor or chief, or, at any rate, a being of like
nature to these. If one wanted to get anything out of him, therefore,
the first step was to put him in good humour by gifts; and if one
desired to escape his wrath, which might be excited by the most trifling
neglect or unintentional disrespect, the great thing was to pacify
him by costly presents. King Finow appears to have been somewhat of a
freethinker (to the great horror of his subjects), and it was only his
untimely death which prevented him from dealing with the priest of a
god, who had not returned a favourable answer to his supplications,
as Saul dealt with the priests of the sanctuary of Jahveh at Nob.
Nevertheless, Finow showed his practical belief in the gods during the
sickness of a daughter, to whom he was fondly attached, in a fashion
which has a close parallel in the history of Israel.

   If the gods have any resentment against us, let the whole
   weight of vengeance fall on my head. I fear not their vengeance
   --but spare my child; and I earnestly entreat you, Toobo Totai
   [the god whom he had evoked], to exert all your influence with
   the other gods that I alone may suffer all the punishment they
   desire to inflict (vol. i. p. 354).

So when the king of Israel has sinned by "numbering the people," and
they are punished for his fault by a pestilence which slays seventy
thousand innocent men, David cries to Jahveh:--

   Lo, I have sinned, and I have done perversely; but these sheep,
   what have they done? let thine hand, I pray thee, be against me,
   and against my father's house. (2 Sam. xxiv. 17).

Human sacrifices were extremely common in Polynesia; and, in Tonga, the
"devotion" of a child by strangling was a favourite method of averting
the wrath of the gods. The well-known instances of Jephthah's sacrifice
of his daughter and of David's giving up the seven sons of Saul to be
sacrificed by the Gibeonites "before Jahveh," appear to me to leave no
doubt that the old Israelites, even when devout worshippers of Jahveh,
considered human sacrifices, under certain circumstances, to be not only
permissible but laudable. Samuel's hewing to pieces of the miserable
captive, sole survivor of his nation, Agag, "before Jahveh," can hardly
be viewed in any other light. The life of Moses is redeemed from Jahveh,
who "sought to slay him," by Zipporah's symbolical sacrifice of her
child, by the bloody operation of circumcision. Jahveh expressly affirms
that the first-born males of men and beasts are devoted to him; in
accordance with that claim, the first-born males of the beasts are duly
sacrificed; and it is only by special permission that the claim to the
first-born of men is waived, and it is enacted that they may be redeemed
(Exod. xiii. 12-15). Is it possible to avoid the conclusion that
immolation of their first-born sons would have been incumbent on the
worshippers of Jahveh, had they not been thus specially excused? Can any
other conclusion be drawn from the history of Abraham and Isaac?
Does Abraham exhibit any indication of surprise when he receives the
astounding order to sacrifice his son? Is there the slightest evidence
that there was anything in his intimate and personal acquaintance with
the character of the Deity, who had eaten the meat and drunk the milk
which Abraham set before him under the oaks of Mamre, to lead him to
hesitate--even to wait twelve or fourteen hours for a repetition of
the command? Not a whit. We are told that "Abraham rose early in the
morning" and led his only child to the slaughter, as if it were the
most ordinary business imaginable. Whether the story has any historical
foundation or not, it is valuable as showing that the writer of it
conceived Jahveh as a deity whose requirement of such a sacrifice need
excite neither astonishment nor suspicion of mistake on the part of his
devotee. Hence, when the incessant human sacrifices in Israel,
during the age of the kings, are put down to the influence of foreign
idolatries, we may fairly inquire whether editorial Bowdlerising has not
prevailed over historical truth.

An attempt to compare the ethical standards of two nations, one of which
has a written code, while the other has not, is beset with difficulties.
With all that is strange and, in many cases, repulsive to us in the
social arrangements and opinions respecting moral obligation among
the Tongans, as they are placed before us, with perfect candour, in
Mariner's account, there is much that indicates a strong ethical
sense. They showed great kindliness to one another, and faithfulness in
standing by their comrades in war. No people could have better observed
either the third or the fifth commandment; for they had a particular
horror of blasphemy, and their respectful tenderness towards their
parents and, indeed, towards old people in general, was remarkable.

It cannot be said that the eighth commandment was generally observed,
especially where Europeans were concerned; nevertheless a well-bred
Tongan looked upon theft as a meanness to which he would not condescend.
As to the seventh commandment, any breach of it was considered
scandalous in women and as something to be avoided in self-respecting
men; but, among unmarried and widowed people, chastity was held very
cheap. Nevertheless the women were extremely well treated, and often
showed themselves capable of great devotion and entire faithfulness. In
the matter of cruelty, treachery, and bloodthirstiness, these islanders
were neither better nor worse than most peoples of antiquity. It is to
the credit of the Tongans that they particularly objected to slander;
nor can covetousness be regarded as their characteristic; for Mariner
says:--

   When any one is about to eat, he always shares out what he has
   to those about him, without any hesitation, and a contrary
   conduct would be considered exceedingly vile and selfish (vol.
   ii p. 145).

In fact, they thought very badly of the English when Mariner told them
that his countrymen did not act exactly on that principle. It further
appears that they decidedly belonged to the school of intuitive moral
philosophers, and believed that virtue is its own reward; for

   Many of the chiefs, on being asked by Mr. Mariner what motives
   they had for conducting themselves with propriety, besides the
   fear of misfortunes in this life, replied, the agreeable and
   happy feeling which a man experiences within himself when he
   does any good action or conducts himself nobly and generously as
   a man ought to do; and this question they answered as if they
   wondered such a question should be asked. (vol. ii. p. 161).

One may read from the beginning of the book of Judges to the end of the
books of Samuel without discovering that the old Israelites had a moral
standard which differs, in any essential respect (except perhaps in
regard to the chastity of unmarried women), from that of the Tongans.
Gideon, Jephthah, Samson, and David are strong-handed men, some of whom
are not outdone by any Polynesian chieftain in the matter of murder
and treachery; while Deborah's jubilation over Jael's violation of the
primary duty of hospitality, proffered and accepted under circumstances
which give a peculiarly atrocious character to the murder of the guest;
and her witch-like gloating over the picture of the disappointment of
the mother of the victim--

   The mother of Sisera cried through the lattice,
   Why is his chariot so long in coming? (Jud. v. 28.)
--would not have been out of place in the choral service of the most
sanguinary god in the Polynesian pantheon.

With respect to the cannibalism which the Tongans occasionally
practised, Mariner says:--

   Although a few young ferocious warriors chose to imitate what
   they considered a mark of courageous fierceness in a
   neighbouring nation, it was held in disgust by everybody else
   (vol. ii. p. 171).

That the moral standard of Tongan life was less elevated than that
indicated in the "Book of the Covenant" (Exod. xxi.-xxiii.) may be
freely admitted. But then the evidence that this Book of the Covenant,
and even the ten commandments as given in Exodus, were known to the
Israelites of the time of Samuel and Saul, is (to say the least) by no
means conclusive. The Deuteronomic version of the fourth commandment is
hopelessly discrepant from that which stands in Exodus. Would any later
writer have ventured to alter the commandments as given from Sinai, if
he had had before him that which professed to be an accurate statement
of the "ten words" in Exodus? And if the writer of Deuteronomy had not
Exodus before him, what is the value of the claim of the version of the
ten commandments therein contained to authenticity? From one end to
the other of the books of Judges and Samuel, the only "commandments
of Jahveh" which are specially adduced refer to the prohibition of the
worship of other gods, or are orders given _ad hoc,_ and have nothing to
do with questions of morality.

In Polynesia, the belief in witchcraft, in the appearance of spiritual
beings in dreams, in possession as the cause of diseases, and in omens,
prevailed universally. Mariner tells a story of a woman of rank who was
greatly attached to King Finow, and who, for the space of six months
after his death, scarcely ever slept elsewhere than on his grave, which
she kept carefully decorated with flowers:--

"One day she went, with the deepest affliction, to the house of Mo-oonga
Toobo, the widow of the deceased chief, to communicate what had happened
to her at the _fytoca_ [grave] during several nights, and which caused
her the greatest anxiety. She related that she had dreamed that the
late How [King] appeared to her and, with a countenance full of
disappointment, asked why there yet remained at Vavaoo so many
evil-designing persons; for he declared that, since he had been at
Bolotoo, his spirit had been disturbed [22] by the evil machinations of
wicked men conspiring against his son; but he declared that 'the youth'
should not be molested nor his power shaken by the spirit of rebellion;
that he therefore came to her with a warning voice to prevent such
disastrous consequences (vol. i. p. 424)."

On inquiry it turned out that the charm of _tattao_ had been performed
on Finow's grave, with the view of injuring his son, the reigning king,
and it is to be presumed that it was this sorcerer's work which had
"disturbed" Finow's spirit. The Rev. Richard Taylor says in the work
already cited: "The account given of the witch of Endor agrees most
remarkably with the witches of New Zealand" (p. 45).

The Tongans also believed in a mode of divination (essentially similar
to the casting of lots) the twirling of a cocoanut.

   The object of inquiry... is chiefly whether a sick person will
   recover; for this purpose the nut being placed on the ground, a
   relation of the sick person determines that, if the nut, when
   again at rest, points to such a quarter, the east for example,
   that the sick man will recover; he then prays aloud to the
   patron god of the family that he will be pleased to direct the
   nut so that it may indicate the truth; the nut being next spun,
   the result is attended to with confidence, at least with a full
   conviction that it will truly declare the intentions of the gods
   at the time (vol. ii. p. 227).

Does not the action of Saul, on a famous occasion, involve exactly the
same theological presuppositions?

   Therefore Saul said unto Jahveh, the Elohim of Israel, Shew the
   right. And Jonathan and Saul were taken by lot: but the people
   escaped. And Saul said, Cast _lots_ between me and Jonathan
   my son. And Jonathan was taken. And Saul said to Jonathan, Tell
   me what thou hast done.... And the people rescued Jonathan so
   that he died not (1 Sam. xiv. 41-45).

As the Israelites had great yearly feasts, so had the Polynesians; as
the Israelites practised circumcision, so did many Polynesian people;
as the Israelites had a complex and often arbitrary-seeming multitude
of distinctions between clean and unclean things, and clean and unclean
states of men, to which they attached great importance, so had the
Polynesians their notions of ceremonial purity and their _tabu,_ an
equally extensive and strange system of prohibitions, violation of which
was visited by death. These doctrines of cleanness and uncleanness no
doubt may have taken their rise in the real or fancied utility of the
prescriptions, but it is probable that the origin of many is indicated
in the curious habit of the Samoans to make fetishes of living animals.
It will be recollected that these people had no "gods made with hands,"
but they substituted animals for them.

At his birth

"every Samoan was supposed to be taken under the care of some tutelary
god or _aitu_ [= Atua] as it was called. The help of perhaps half a
dozen different gods was invoked in succession on the occasion, but the
one who happened to be addressed just as the child was born was marked
and declared to be the child's god for life.

"These gods were supposed to appear in some _visible incarnation,_ and
the particular thing in which his god was in the habit of appearing was,
to the Samoan, an object of veneration. It was in fact his idol, and
he was careful never to injure it or treat it with contempt. One, for
instance, saw his god in the eel, another in the shark, another in the
turtle, another in the dog, another in the owl, another in the lizard;
and so on, throughout all the fish of the sea and birds and four-footed
beasts and creeping things. In some of the shell-fish even, gods were
supposed to be present. A man would eat freely of what was regarded as
the incarnation of the god of another man, but the incarnation of his
own particular god he would consider it death to injure or eat." [23]

We have here that which appears to be the origin, or one of the origins,
of food prohibitions, on the one hand, and of totemism on the other.
When it is remembered that the old Israelites sprang from ancestors who
are said to have resided near, or in, one of the great seats of ancient
Babylonian civilisation, the city of Ur; that they had been, it is said
for centuries, in close contact with the Egyptians; and that, in the
theology of both the Babylonians and the Egyptians, there is abundant
evidence, notwithstanding their advanced social organisation, of the
belief in spirits, with sorcery, ancestor-worship, the deification of
animals, and the converse animalisation of gods--it obviously needs very
strong evidence to justify the belief that the rude tribes of Israel did
not share the notions from which their far more civilised neighbours had
not emancipated themselves.

But it is surely needless to carry the comparison further. Out of the
abundant evidence at command, I think that sufficient has been produced
to furnish ample grounds for the belief, that the old Israelites of the
time of Samuel entertained theological conceptions which were on a level
with those current among the more civilised of the Polynesian islanders,
though their ethical code may possibly, in some respects, have been more
advanced. [24]

A theological system of essentially similar character, exhibiting the
same fundamental conceptions respecting the continued existence
and incessant interference in human affairs of disembodied spirits,
prevails, or formerly prevailed, among the whole of the inhabitants
of the Polynesian and Melanesian islands, and among the people of
Australia, notwithstanding the wide differences in physical character
and in grade of civilisation which obtain among them. And the same
proposition is true of the people who inhabit the riverain shores of the
Pacific Ocean whether Dyaks, Malays, Indo-Chinese, Chinese, Japanese,
the wild tribes of America, or the highly civilised old Mexicans and
Peruvians. It is no less true of the Mongolic nomads of Northern Asia,
of the Asiatic Aryans and of the Ancient Greeks and Romans, and it holds
good among the Dravidians of the Dekhan and the negro tribes of Africa.
No tribe of savages which has yet been discovered, has been conclusively
proved to have so poor a theological equipment as to be devoid of a
belief in ghosts, and in the utility of some form of witchcraft, in
influencing those ghosts. And there is no nation, modern or ancient,
which, even at this moment, has wholly given up the belief; and in which
it has not, at one time or other, played a great part in practical life.

This _sciotheism,_ [25] as it might be called, is found, in several
degrees of complexity, in rough correspondence with the stages of social
organisation, and, like these, separated by no sudden breaks.

In its simplest condition, such as may be met with among the Australian
savages, theology is a mere belief in the existence, powers, and
disposition (usually malignant) of ghostlike entities who may be
propitiated or scared away; but no cult can properly be said to exist.
And, in this stage, theology is wholly independent of ethics. The moral
code, such as is implied by public opinion, derives no sanction from the
theological dogmas, and the influence of the spirits is supposed to be
exerted out of mere caprice or malice.

As a next stage, the fundamental fear of ghosts and the consequent
desire to propitiate them acquire an organised ritual in simple forms of
ancestor-worship, such as the Rev. Mr. Turner describes among the people
of Tanna (_l.c._ p. 88); and this line of development may be followed
out until it attains its acme in the State-theology of China and
the Kami-theology [26] of Japan. Each of these is essentially
ancestor-worship, the ancestors being reckoned back through family
groups, of higher and higher order, sometimes with strict reference to
the principle of agnation, as in old Rome; and, as in the latter, it is
intimately bound up with the whole organisation of the State. There are
no idols; inscribed tablets in China, and strips of paper lodged in a
peculiar portable shrine in Japan, represent the souls of the deceased,
or the special seats which they occupy when sacrifices are offered by
their descendants. In Japan it is interesting to observe that a national
Kami--Ten-zio-dai-zin--is worshipped as a sort of Jahveh by the nation
in general, and (as Lippert has observed) it is singular that his
special seat is a portable litter-like shrine, termed the Mikosi, in
some sort analogous to the Israelitic ark. In China, the emperor is
the representative of the primitive ancestors, and stands, as it were,
between them and the supreme cosmic deities--Heaven and Earth--who are
superadded to them, and who answer to the Tangaloa and the Maui of the
Polynesians.

Sciotheism, under the form of the deification of ancestral ghosts, in
its most pronounced form, is therefore the chief element in the theology
of a great moiety, possibly of more than half, of the human race. I
think this must be taken to be a matter of fact--though various opinions
may be held as to how this ancestor-worship came about. But on the other
hand, it is no less a matter of fact that there are very few people
without additional gods, who cannot, with certainty, be accounted for as
deified ancestors.

With all respect for the distinguished authorities on the other side,
I cannot find good reasons for accepting the theory that the cosmic
deities--who are superadded to deified ancestors even in China; who are
found all over Polynesia, in Tangaloa and Maui, and in old Peru, in the
Sun--are the product either of the "search after the infinite," or of
mistakes arising out of the confusion of a great chief's name with the
thing signified by the name. But, however this may be, I think it is
again merely matter of fact that, among a large portion of mankind,
ancestor-worship is more or less thrown into the background either by
such cosmic deities, or by tribal gods of uncertain origin, who have
been raised to eminence by the superiority in warfare, or otherwise, of
their worshippers.

Among certain nations, the polytheistic theology, thus constituted, has
become modified by the selection of some one cosmic or tribal god, as
the only god to whom worship is due on the part of that nation (though
it is by no means denied that other nations have a right to worship
other gods), and thus results a worship of one God--_monolatry,_ as
Wellhausen calls it--which is very different from genuine monotheism.
[27] In ancestral sciotheism, and in this _monolatry,_ the ethical
code, often of a very high order, comes into closer relation with the
theological creed. Morality is taken under the patronage of the god or
gods, who reward all morally good conduct and punish all morally evil
conduct in this world or the next. At the same time, however, they
are conceived to be thoroughly human, and they visit any shadow of
disrespect to themselves, shown by disobedience to their commands, or by
delay, or carelessness, in carrying them out, as severely as any breach
of the moral laws. Piety means minute attention to the due performance
of all sacred rites, and covers any number of lapses in morality, just
as cruelty, treachery, murder, and adultery did not bar David's claim to
the title of the man after God's own heart among the Israelites; crimes
against men may be expiated, but blasphemy against the gods is an
unpardonable sin. Men forgive all injuries but those which touch their
self-esteem; and they make their gods after their own likeness, in their
own image make they them.

It is in the category of monolatry that I conceive the theology of the
old Israelites must be ranged. They were polytheists, in so far as they
admitted the existence of other Elohim of divine rank beside Jahveh;
they differed from ordinary polytheists, in so far as they believed
that Jahveh was the supreme god and the one proper object of their own
national worship. But it will doubtless be objected that I have been
building up a fictitious Israelitic theology on the foundation of the
recorded habits and customs of the people, when they had lapsed from
the ordinances of their great lawgiver and prophet Moses, and that my
conclusions may be good for the perverts to Canaanitish theology, but
not for the true observers of the Sinaitic legislation. The answer to
the objection is that--so far as I can form a judgment of that which is
well ascertained in the history of Israel--there is very little ground
for believing that we know much, either about the theological and social
value of the influence of Moses, or about what happened during the
wanderings in the Desert.

The account of the Exodus and of the occurrences in the Sinaitic
peninsula; in fact, all the history of Israel before the invasion of
Canaan, is full of wonderful stories, which may be true, in so far as
they are conceivable occurrences, but which are certainly not probable,
and which I, for one, decline to accept until evidence, which deserves
that name, is offered of their historical truth. Up to this time I know
of none. [28] Furthermore, I see no answer to the argument that one
has no right to pick out of an obviously unhistorical statement the
assertions which happen to be probable and to discard the rest. But it
is also certain that a primitively veracious tradition may be smothered
under subsequent mythical additions, and that one has no right to cast
away the former along with the latter. Thus, perhaps the fairest way of
stating the case may be as follows.

There can be no _a priori_ objection to the supposition that the
Israelites were delivered from their Egyptian bondage by a leader called
Moses, and that he exerted a great influence over their subsequent
organisation in the Desert. There is no reason to doubt that, during
their residence in the land of Goshen, the Israelites knew nothing
of Jahveh; but, as their own prophets declare (see Ezek. xx.), were
polytheistic idolaters, sharing in the worst practices of their
neighbours. As to their conduct in other respects, nothing is known. But
it may fairly be suspected that their ethics were not of a higher order
than those of Jacob, their progenitor, in which case they might derive
great profit from contact with Egyptian society, which held honesty and
truthfulness in the highest esteem. Thanks to the Egyptologers, we now
know, with all requisite certainty, the moral standard of that society
in the time, and long before the time, of Moses. It can be determined
from the scrolls buried with the mummified dead and from the
inscriptions on the tombs and memorial statues of that age. For,
though the lying of epitaphs is proverbial, so far as their subject is
concerned, they gave an unmistakable insight into that which the writers
and the readers of them think praiseworthy.

In the famous tombs at Beni Hassan there is a record of the life of
Prince Nakht, who served Osertasen II., a Pharaoh of the twelfth dynasty
as governor of a province. The inscription speaks in his name: "I was
a benevolent and kindly governor who loved his country.... Never was
a little child distressed nor a widow ill-treated by me. I have never
repelled a workman nor hindered a shepherd. I gave alike to the widow
and to the married woman, and have not preferred the great to the small
in my gifts." And we have the high authority of the late Dr. Samuel
Birch for the statement that the inscriptions of the twelfth dynasty
abound in injunctions of a high ethical character. "To feed the hungry,
give drink to the thirsty, clothe the naked, bury the dead, loyally
serve the king, formed the first duty of a pious man and faithful
subject." [29] The people for whom these inscriptions embodied their
ideal of praiseworthiness assuredly had no imperfect conception of
either justice or mercy. But there is a document which gives still
better evidence of the moral standard of the Egyptians. It is the "Book
of the Dead," a sort of "Guide to Spiritland," the whole, or a part,
of which was buried with the mummy of every well-to-do Egyptian, while
extracts from it are found in innumerable inscriptions. Portions of this
work are of extreme antiquity, evidence of their existence occurring
as far back as the fifth and sixth dynasties; while the 120th chapter,
which constitutes a sort of book by itself, and is known as the "Book of
Redemption in the Hall of the two Truths," is frequently inscribed upon
coffins and other monuments of the nineteenth dynasty (that under which,
there is some reason to believe, the Israelites were oppressed and the
Exodus took place), and it occurs, more than once, in the famous tombs
of the kings of this and the preceding dynasty at Thebes. [30] This
"Book of Redemption" is chiefly occupied by the so-called "negative
confession" made to the forty-two Divine Judges, in which the soul of
the dead denies that he has committed faults of various kinds. It
is, therefore, obvious that the Egyptians conceived that their gods
commanded them not to do the deeds which are here denied. The "Book
of Redemption," in fact, implies the existence in the mind of the
Egyptians, if not in a formal writing, of a series of ordinances,
couched, like the majority of the ten commandments, in negative terms.
And it is easy to prove the implied existence of a series which
nearly answers to the "ten words." Of course a polytheistic and
image-worshipping people, who observed a great many holy days, but no
Sabbaths, could have nothing analogous to the first or the second and
the fourth commandments of the Decalogue; but answering to the third, is
"I have not blasphemed;" to the fifth, "I have not reviled the face
of the king or my father;" to the sixth, "I have not murdered;" to the
seventh, "I have not committed adultery;" to the eighth, "I have not
stolen," "I have not done fraud to man;" to the ninth, "I have not
told falsehoods in the tribunal of truth," and, further, "I have not
calumniated the slave to his master." I find nothing exactly similar to
the tenth commandment; but that the inward disposition of mind was held
to be of no less importance than the outward act is to be gathered from
the praises of kindliness already cited and the cry of "I am pure,"
which is repeated by the soul on trial. Moreover, there is a minuteness
of detail in the confession which shows no little delicacy of moral
appreciation--"I have not privily done evil against mankind," "I
have not afflicted men," "I have not withheld milk from the mouths of
sucklings," "I have not been idle," "I have not played the hypocrite,"
"I have not told falsehoods," "I have not corrupted woman or man," "I
have not caused fear," "I have not multiplied words in speaking."

Would that the moral sense of the nineteenth century A.D. were as far
advanced as that of the Egyptians in the nineteenth century B.C. in this
last particular! What incalculable benefit to mankind would flow from
strict observance of the commandment, "Thou shalt not multiply words
in speaking!" Nothing is more remarkable than the stress which the
old Egyptians, here and elsewhere, lay upon this and other kinds of
truthfulness, as compared with the absence of any such requirement in
the Israelitic Decalogue, in which only a specific kind of untruthfulnes
is forbidden.

If, as the story runs, Moses was adopted by a princess of the royal
house, and was instructed in all the wisdom of the Egyptians, it is
surely incredible that he should not have been familiar from his youth
up, with the high moral code implied in the "Book of Redemption." It
is surely impossible that he should have been less familiar with the
complete legal system, and with the method of administration of justice,
which, even in his time, had enabled the Egyptian people to hold
together, as a complex social organisation, for a period far longer than
the duration of old Roman society, from the building of the city to
the death of the last Caesar. Nor need we look to Moses alone for the
influence of Egypt upon Israel. It is true that the Hebrew nomads who
came into contact with the Egyptians of Osertasen, or of Ramses, stood
in much the same relation to them, in point of culture, as a Germanic
tribe did to the Romans of Tiberius, or of Marcus Antoninus; or as
Captain Cook's Omai did to the English of George the Third. But, at the
same time, any difficulty of communication which might have arisen out
of this circumstance was removed by the long pre-existing intercourse
of other Semites, of every grade of civilisation, with the Egyptians. In
Mesopotamia and elsewhere, as in Phenicia, Semitic people had attained
to a social organisation as advanced as that of the Egyptians; Semites
had conquered and occupied Lower Egypt for centuries. So extensively had
Semitic influences penetrated Egypt that the Egyptian language, during
the period of the nineteenth dynasty, is said by Brugsch to be as full
of Semitisms as German is of Gallicisms; while Semitic deities had
supplanted the Egyptian gods at Heliopolis and elsewhere. On the other
hand, the Semites, as far as Phenicia, were extensively influenced by
Egypt.

It is generally admitted [31] that Moses, Phinehas (and perhaps Aaron),
are names of Egyptian origin, and there is excellent authority for
the statement that the name _Abir,_ which the Israelites gave to their
golden calf, and which is also used to signify the strong, the heavenly,
and even God, [32] is simply the Egyptian Apis. Brugsch points out that
the god, Tum or Tom, who was the special object of worship in the city
of Pi-Tom, with which the Israelites were only too familiar, was called
Ankh and the "great god," and had no image. Ankh means "He who lives,"
"the living one," a name the resemblance of which to the "I am that I
am" of Exodus is unmistakable, whatever may be the value of the fact.
Every discussion of Israelitic ritual seeks and finds the explanation
of its details in the portable sacred chests, the altars, the priestly
dress, the breastplate, the incense, and the sacrifices depicted on the
monuments of Egypt. But it must be remembered that these signs of the
influence of Egypt upon Israel are not necessarily evidence that such
influence was exerted before the Exodus. It may have come much later,
through the close connection of the Israel of David and Solomon, first
with Phenicia and then with Egypt.

If we suppose Moses to have been a man of the stamp of Calvin, there is
no difficulty in conceiving that he may have constructed the substance
of the ten words, and even of the Book of the Covenant, which curiously
resembles parts of the Book of the Dead, from the foundation of Egyptian
ethics and theology which had filtered through to the Israelites
in general, or had been furnished specially to himself by his early
education; just as the great Genevese reformer built up a puritanic
social organisation on so much as remained of the ethics and theology of
the Roman Church, after he had trimmed them to his liking.

Thus, I repeat, I see no _a priori_ objection to the assumption that
Moses may have endeavoured to give his people a theologico-political
organisation based on the ten commandments (though certainly not quite
in their present form) and the Book of the Covenant, contained in our
present book of Exodus. But whether there is such evidence as amounts to
proof, or, I had better say, to probability, that even this much of
the Pentateuch owes its origin to Moses is another matter. The mythical
character of the accessories of the Sinaitic history is patent, and
it would take a good deal more evidence than is afforded by the bare
assertion of an unknown writer to justify the belief that the people who
"saw the thunderings and the lightnings and the voice of the trumpet
and the mountain smoking" (Exod. xx. 18); to whom Jahveh orders Moses to
say, "Ye yourselves have seen that I have talked with you from heaven.
Ye shall not make other gods with me; gods of silver and gods of gold ye
shall not make unto you" (_ibid._ 22, 23), should, less than six weeks
afterwards, have done the exact thing they were thus awfully forbidden
to do. Nor is the credibility of the story increased by the statement
that Aaron, the brother of Moses, the witness and fellow-worker of the
miracles before Pharaoh, was their leader and the artificer of the
idol. And yet, at the same time, Aaron was apparently so ignorant of
wrongdoing that he made proclamation, "Tomorrow shall be a feast to
Jahveh," and the people proceeded to offer their burnt-offerings
and peace-offerings, as if everything in their proceedings must be
satisfactory to the Deity with whom they had just made a solemn covenant
to abolish image-worship. It seems to me that, on a survey of all the
facts of the case, only a very cautious and hypothetical judgment is
justifiable. It may be that Moses profited by the opportunities afforded
him of access to what was best in Egyptian society to become acquainted,
not only with its advanced ethical and legal code, but with the more or
less pantheistic unification of the Divine to which the speculations of
the Egyptian thinkers, like those of all polytheistic philosophers, from
Polynesia to Greece, tend; if indeed the theology of the period of the
nineteenth dynasty was not, as some Egyptologists think, a modification
of an earlier, more distinctly monotheistic doctrine of a long
antecedent age. It took only half a dozen centuries for the theology
of Paul to become the theology of Gregory the Great; and it is possible
that twenty centuries lay between the theology of the first worshippers
in the sanctuary of the Sphinx and that of the priests of Ramses Maimun.

It may be that the ten commandments and the Book of the Covenant are
based upon faithful traditions of the efforts of a great leader to
raise his followers to his own level. For myself, as a matter of pious
opinion, I like to think so; as I like to imagine that, between Moses
and Samuel, there may have been many a seer, many a herdsman such as him
of Tekoah, lonely amidst the hills of Ephraim and Judah, who cherished
and kept alive these traditions. In the present results of Biblical
criticism, however, I can discover no justification for the common
assumption that, between the time of Joshua and that of Rehoboam, the
Israelites were familiar with either the Deuteronomic or the Levitical
legislation; or that the theology of the Israelites, from the king who
sat on the throne to the lowest of his subjects, was in any important
respect different from that which might naturally be expected from their
previous history and the conditions of their existence. But there is
excellent evidence to the contrary effect. And, for my part, I see no
reason to doubt that, like the rest of the world, the Israelites had
passed through a period of mere ghost-worship, and had advanced through
Ancestor-worship and Fetishism and Totemism to the theological level at
which we find them in the books of Judges and Samuel.

All the more remarkable, therefore, is the extraordinary change which is
to be noted in the eighth century B.C. The student who is familiar with
the theology implied, or expressed, in the books of Judges, Samuel, and
the first book of Kings, finds himself in a new world of thought, in
the full tide of a great reformation, when he reads Joel, Amos, Hosea,
Isaiah, Micah, and Jeremiah.

The essence of this change is the reversal of the position which, in
primitive society, ethics holds in relation to theology. Originally,
that which men worship is a theological hypothesis, not a moral ideal.
The prophets, in substance, if not always in form preach the opposite
doctrine. They are constantly striving to free the moral ideal from the
stifling embrace of the current theology and its concomitant ritual.
Theirs was not an intellectual criticism, argued on strictly scientific
grounds; the image-worshippers and the believers in the efficacy of
sacrifices and ceremonies might logically have held their own against
anything the prophets have to say; it was an ethical criticism. From
the height of his moral intuition--that the whole duty of man is to do
justice and to love mercy and to bear himself as humbly as befits his
insignificance in face of the Infinite--the prophet simply laughs at the
idolaters of stocks and stones and the idolaters of ritual. Idols of the
first kind, in his experience, were inseparably united with the
practice of immorality, and they were to be ruthlessly destroyed. As for
sacrifices and ceremonies, whatever their intrinsic value might be, they
might be tolerated on condition of ceasing to be idols; they might even
be praiseworthy on condition of being made to subserve the worship of
the true Jahveh--the moral ideal.

If the realm of David had remained undivided, if the Assyrian and the
Chaldean and the Egyptian had left Israel to the ordinary course of
development of an Oriental kingdom, it is possible that the effects of
the reforming zeal of the prophets of the eighth and seventh centuries
might have been effaced by the growth, according to its inevitable
tendencies, of the theology which they combated. But the captivity made
the fortune of the ideas which it was the privilege of these men to
launch upon an endless career. With the abolition of the Temple-services
for more than half a century, the priest must have lost and the scribe
gained influence. The puritanism of a vigorous minority among the
Babylonian Jews rooted out polytheism from all its hiding-places in the
theology which they had inherited; they created the first consistent,
remorseless, naked monotheism, which, so far as history records,
appeared in the world (for Zoroastrism is practically ditheism, and
Buddhism any-theism or no-theism); and they inseparably united therewith
an ethical code, which, for its purity and for its efficiency as a bond
of social life, was and is, unsurpassed. So I think we must not judge
Ezra and Nehemiah and their followers too hardly, if they exemplified
the usual doom of poor humanity to escape from one error only to fall
into another; if they failed to free themselves as completely from the
idolatry of ritual as they had from that of images and dogmas; if they
cherished the new fetters of the Levitical legislation which they had
fitted upon themselves and their nation, as though such bonds had the
sanctity of the obligations of morality; and if they led succeeding
generations to spend their best energies in building that "hedge round
the Torah" which was meant to preserve both ethics and theology, but
which too often had the effect of pampering the latter and starving the
former. The world being what it was, it is to be doubted whether Israel
would have preserved intact the pure ore of religion, which the prophets
had extracted for the use of mankind as well as for their nation, had
not the leaders of the nation been zealous, even to death, for the dross
of the law in which it was embedded. The struggle of the Jews, under the
Maccabean house, against the Seleucidae was as important for mankind as
that of the Greeks against the Persians. And, of all the strange ironies
of history, perhaps the strangest is that "Pharisee" is current, as
a term of reproach, among the theological descendants of that sect of
Nazarenes who, without the martyr spirit of those primitive Puritans,
would never have come into existence. They, like their historical
successors, our own Puritans, have shared the general fate of the poor
wise men who save cities.

A criticism of theology from the side of science is not thought of
by the prophets, and is at most indicated in the books of Job and
Ecclesiastes, in both of which the problem of vindicating the ways of
God to man is given up, though on different grounds, as a hopeless one.
But with the extensive introduction of Greek thought among the Jews,
which took place, not only during the domination of the Seleucidae in
Palestine, but in the great Judaic colony which flourished in Egypt
under the Ptolemies, criticism, on both ethical and scientific grounds,
took a new departure.

In the hands of the Alexandrian Jews, as represented by Philo, the
fundamental axiom of later Jewish, as of Christian monotheism, that the
Deity is infinitely perfect and infinitely good, worked itself out into
its logical consequence--agnostic theism. Philo will allow of no point
of contact between God and a world in which evil exists. For him God has
no relation to space or to time, and, as infinite, suffers no predicate
beyond that of existence. It is therefore absurd to ascribe to Him
mental faculties and affections comparable in the remotest degree to
those of men; He is in no way an object of cognition; He is [Greek] and
[Greek] [33]--without quality and incomprehensible. That is to say the
Alexandrian Jew of the first century had anticipated the reasonings
of Hamilton and Mansell in the nineteenth, and, for him, God is the
Unknowable in the sense in which that term is used by Mr. Herbert
Spencer. Moreover, Philo's definition of the Supreme Being would not be
inconsistent with that "substantia constans infinitis attributis, quorum
unumquodque aeternam et infinitam essentiam exprimit," given by another
great Israelite, were it not that Spinoza's doctrine of the immanence of
the Deity in the world puts him, at any rate formally, at the antipodes
of theological speculation. But the conception of the essential
incognoscibility of the Deity is the same in each case. However, Philo
was too thorough an Israelite and too much the child of his time to be
content with this agnostic position. With the help of the Platonic
and Stoic philosophy, he constructed an apprehensible, if not
comprehensible, quasi-deity out of the Logos; while other more or less
personified divine powers, or attributes, bridged over the interval
between God and man; between the sacred existence, too pure to be called
by any name which implied a conceivable quality, and the gross and evil
world of matter. In order to get over the ethical difficulties presented
by the naive naturalism of many parts of those Scriptures, in the divine
authority of which he firmly believed, Philo borrowed from the Stoics
(who had been in like straits in respect of Greek mythology), that
great Excalibur which they had forged with infinite pains and skill--the
method of allegorical interpretation. This mighty "two-handed engine at
the door" of the theologian is warranted to make a speedy end of any
and every moral or intellectual difficulty, by showing that, taken
allegorically or, as it is otherwise said, "poetically" or, "in a
spiritual sense," the plainest words mean whatever a pious interpreter
desires they should mean. In Biblical phrase, Zeno (who probably had
a strain of Semitic blood in him) was the "father of all such as
reconcile." No doubt Philo and his followers were eminently religious
men; but they did endless injury to the cause of religion by laying the
foundations of a new theology, while equipping the defenders of it
with the subtlest of all weapons of offence and defence, and with an
inexhaustible store of sophistical arguments of the most plausible
aspect.

The question of the real bearing upon theology of the influence exerted
by the teaching of Philo's contemporary, Jesus of Nazareth, is one upon
which it is not germane to my present purpose to enter. I take it simply
as an unquestionable fact that his immediate disciples, known to their
countrymen as "Nazarenes," were regarded as, and considered themselves
to be, perfectly orthodox Jews, belonging to the puritanic or pharisaic
section of their people, and differing from the rest only in their
belief that the Messiah had already come. Christianity, it is said,
first became clearly differentiated at Antioch, and it separated
itself from orthodox Judaism by denying the obligation of the rite
of circumcision and of the food prohibitions, prescribed by the law.
Henceforward theology became relatively stationary among the Jews, [34]
and the history of its rapid progress in a new course of evolution is
the history of the Christian Churches, orthodox and heterodox. The
steps in this evolution are obvious. The first is the birth of a new
theological scheme arising out of the union of elements derived from
Greek philosophy with elements derived from Israelitic theology. In
the fourth Gospel, the Logos, raised to a somewhat higher degree of
personification than in the Alexandrian theosophy, is identified with
Jesus of Nazareth. In the Epistles, especially the later of those
attributed to Paul, the Israelitic ideas of the Messiah and of
sacrificial atonement coalesce with one another and with the embodiment
of the Logos in Jesus, until the apotheosis of the Son of man is almost,
or quite, effected. The history of Christian dogma, from Justin to
Athanasius, is a record of continual progress in the same direction,
until the fair body of religion, revealed in almost naked purity by the
prophets, is once more hidden under a new accumulation of dogmas and of
ritual practices of which the primitive Nazarene knew nothing; and which
he would probably have regarded as blasphemous if he could have been
made to understand them.

As, century after century, the ages roll on, polytheism comes back under
the disguise of Mariolatry and the adoration of saints; image-worship
becomes as rampant as in old Egypt; adoration of relics takes the place
of the old fetish-worship; the virtues of the ephod pale before those of
holy coats and handkerchiefs; shrines and calvaries make up for the
loss of the ark and of the high places; and even the lustral fluid of
paganism is replaced by holy water at the porches of the temples. A
touching ceremony--the common meal originally eaten in pious memory of
a loved teacher--becomes metamorphosed into a flesh-and-blood sacrifice,
supposed to possess exactly that redeeming virtue which the prophets
denied to the flesh-and-blood sacrifices of their day; while the minute
observance of ritual is raised to a degree of punctilious refinement
which Levitical legislators might envy. And with the growth of this
theology, grew its inevitable concomitant, the belief in evil spirits,
in possession, in sorcery, in charms and omens, until the Christians of
the twelfth century after our era were sunk in more debased and brutal
superstitions than are recorded of the Israelites in the twelfth century
before it.

The greatest men of the Middle Ages are unable to escape the infection.
Dante's "Inferno" would be revolting if it were not so often sublime, so
often exquisitely tender. The hideous pictures which cover a vast space
on the south wall of the Campo Santo of Pisa convey information, as
terrible as it is indisputable, of the theological conceptions of
Dante's countrymen in the fourteenth century, whose eyes were addressed
by the painters of those disgusting scenes, and whose approbation they
knew how to win. A candid Mexican of the time of Cortez, could he
have seen this Christian burial-place, would have taken it for an
appropriately adorned Teocalli. The professed disciple of the God
of justice and of mercy might there gloat over the sufferings of his
fellowmen depicted as undergoing every extremity of atrocious and
sanguinary torture to all eternity, for theological errors no less than
for moral delinquencies; while, in the central figure of Satan, [35]
occupied in champing up souls in his capacious and well-toothed jaws, to
void them again for the purpose of undergoing fresh suffering, we have
the counterpart of the strange Polynesian and Egyptian dogma that there
were certain gods who employed themselves in devouring the ghostly flesh
of the Spirits of the dead. But in justice to the Polynesians, it must
be recollected that, after three such operations, they thought the soul
was purified and happy. In the view of the Christian theologian the
operation was only a preparation for new tortures continued for ever and
aye.

With the growth of civilisation in Europe, and with the revival of
letters and of science in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, the
ethical and intellectual criticism of theology once more recommenced,
and arrived at a temporary resting-place in the confessions of the
various reformed Protestant sects in the sixteenth century; almost all
of which, as soon as they were strong enough, began to persecute those
who carried criticism beyond their own limit. But the movement was not
arrested by these ecclesiastical barriers, as their constructors fondly
imagined it would be; it was continued, tacitly or openly, by Galileo,
by Hobbes, by Descartes, and especially by Spinoza, in the seventeenth
century; by the English Freethinkers, by Rousseau, by the French
Encyclopaedists, and by the German Rationalists, among whom Lessing
stands out a head and shoulders taller than the rest, throughout the
eighteenth century; by the historians, the philologers, the Biblical
critics, the geologists, and the biologists in the nineteenth century,
until it is obvious to all who can see that the moral sense and
the really scientific method of seeking for truth are once more
predominating over false science. Once more ethics and theology are
parting company.

It is my conviction that, with the spread of true scientific culture,
whatever may be the medium, historical, philological, philosophical, or
physical, through which that culture is conveyed, and with its necessary
concomitant, a constant elevation of the standard of veracity, the end
of the evolution of theology will be like its beginning--it will cease
to have any relation to ethics. I suppose that, so long as the human
mind exists, it will not escape its deep-seated instinct to personify
its intellectual conceptions. The science of the present day is as
full of this particular form of intellectual shadow-worship as is the
nescience of ignorant ages. The difference is that the philosopher who
is worthy of the name knows that his personified hypotheses, such as
law, and force, and ether, and the like, are merely useful symbols,
while the ignorant and the careless take them for adequate expressions
of reality. So, it may be, that the majority of mankind may find the
practice of morality made easier by the use of theological symbols. And
unless these are converted from symbols into idols, I do not see
that science has anything to say to the practice, except to give an
occasional warning of its dangers. But, when such symbols are dealt with
as real existences, I think the highest duty which is laid upon men of
science is to show that these dogmatic idols have no greater value than
the fabrications of men's hands, the stocks and the stones, which they
have replaced.




FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 1: Even the most sturdy believers in the popular theory that the proper
or titular names attached to the books of the Bible are those of their
authors will hardly be prepared to maintain that Jephthah, Gideon, and
their colleagues wrote the book of Judges. Nor is it easily admissible
that Samuel wrote the two books which pass under his name, one of which
deals entirely with events which took place after his death. In fact, no
one knows who wrote either Judges or Samuel, nor when, within the range
of 100 years, their present form was given to these books.]

[Footnote 2: My citations are taken from the Revised Version, but for Lord and
God I have substituted Jahveh and Elohim.]

[Footnote 3: I need hardly say that I depend upon authoritative Biblical critics,
whenever a question of interpretation of the text arises. As Reuss
appears to me to be one of the most learned, acute, and fair-minded of
those whose works I have studied, I have made most use of the commentary
and dissertations in his splendid French edition of the Bible. But
I have also had recourse to the works of Dillman, Kalisch, Kuenen,
Thenius, Tuch, and others, in cases in which another opinion seemed
desirable.]

[Footnote 4: See "Divination," by Hazoral, _Journal of Anthropology,_ Bombay,
vol. i. No. 1.]

[Footnote 5: See, for example, the message of Jephthah to the King of the
Ammonites: "So now Jahveh, the Elohim of Israel, hath dispossessed the
Amorites from before his people Israel, and shouldest thou possess them?
Wilt not thou possess that which Chemosh, thy Elohim, giveth thee to
possess?" (Jud. xi. 23, 24). For Jephthah, Chemosh is obviously as real
a personage as Jahveh.]

[Footnote 6: For example: "My oblation, my food for my offerings made by fire,
of a sweet savour to me, shall ye observe to offer unto me in their due
season" (Num. xxviii. 2).]

[Footnote 7: In 2 Samuel xv. 27 David says to Zadok the priest, "Art thou not a
seer?" and Gad is called David's seer.]

[Footnote 8: This would at first appear to be inconsistent with the use of the
word "prophetess" for Deborah. But it does not follow because the writer
of Judges applies the name to Deborah that it was used in her day.]

[Footnote 9: Samuel tells the cook, "Bring the potion which I gave thee, of which
I said to thee, Set it by thee." It was therefore Samuel's to give. "And
the cook took up the thigh (or shoulder) and that which was upon it and
set it before Saul." But, in the Levitical regulations, it is the thigh
(or shoulder) which becomes the priest's own property. "And the
right thigh (or shoulder) shall ye give unto the priest for an
heave-offering," which is given along with the wave breast "unto Aaron
the priest and unto his sons as a due for ever from the children of
Israel" (Lev. vii. 31-34). Reuss writes on this passage: "La cuisse
n'est point agitee, mais simplement _prelevee_ sur ce que les convives
mangeront."]

[Footnote 10: See, for example, Elkanah's sacrifice, 1 Sam. i. 3-9.]

[Footnote 11: The ghost was not supposed to be capable of devouring the gross
material substance of the offering; but his vaporous body appropriated
the smoke of the burnt sacrifice, the visible and odorous exhalations of
other offerings. The blood of the victim was particularly useful because
it was thought to be the special seat of its soul or life. A West
African negro replied to an European sceptic: "Of course, the spirit
cannot eat corporeal food, but he extracts its spiritual part, and, as
we see, leaves the material part behind" (Lippert, _Seelencult,_ p. 16).]

[Footnote 12: It is further well worth consideration whether indications of
former ancestor-worship are not to be found in the singular weight
attached to the veneration of parents in the fourth commandment. It is
the only positive commandment, in addition to those respecting the Deity
and that concerning the Sabbath, and the penalties for infringing it
were of the same character. In China, a corresponding reverence for
parents is part and parcel of ancestor-worship; so in ancient Rome and
in Greece (where parents were even called [secondary and earthly]).
The fifth commandment, as it stands, would be an excellent compromise
between ancestor-worship and monotheism. The larger hereditary share
allotted by Israelitic law to the eldest son reminds one of the
privileges attached to primogeniture in ancient Rome, which were closely
connected with ancestor-worship. There is a good deal to be said in
favour of the speculation that the ark of the covenant may have been a
relic of ancestor-worship; but that topic is too large to be dealt with
incidentally in this place]

[Footnote 13: "The Scientific Aspects of Positivism," _Fortnightly Review,_ 1869,
republished in _Lay Sermons._]

[Footnote 14: OEuvres de Bossuet, ed. 1808, t. xxxv. p. 282.]

[Footnote 15: I should like further to add the expression of my indebtedness to
two works by Herr Julius Lippert, _Der Seelencult in seinen Beziehungen
zur alt-hebraischen Religion_ and _Die Religionen der europaischen
Culturvolker,_ both pubished in 1881. I have found them full of valuable
suggestions.]

[Footnote 16: See among others the remarkable work of Fustel de Coulanges,
_La Cite antique,_ in which the social importance of the old Roman
ancestor-worship is brought out with great clearness.]

[Footnote 17: Supposed to be "the finer or more aeriform part of the body,"
standing in "the same relation to the body as the perfume and the
more essential qualities of a flower do to the more solid substances"
(Mariner, vol. ii. p. 127).]

[Footnote 18: A kind of "clients" in the Roman sense.]

[Footnote 19: It is worthy of remark that [Greek] among the Greeks, and _Deus_
among the Romans, had the same wide signification. The _dii manes_ were
ghosts of ancestors=Atuas of the family.]

[Footnote 20: _Voyages aux iles du Grand Ocean,_ t. i. p. 482.]

[Footnote 21: _Te Ika a Maui: New Zealand and its Inhabitants,_ p. 72.]

[Footnote 22: Compare: "And Samuel said unto Saul, Why hast thou disquieted me?"
(I Sam. xxviii. l5)]

[Footnote 23: Turner, _Nineteen Years in Polynesia,_ p. 238.]

[Footnote 24: See Lippert's excellent remarks on this subject, _Der Seelencult,_
p. 89.]

[Footnote 25: _Sciography_ has the authority of Cudworth, _Intellectual System,_
vol. ii. p. 836. Sciomancy [Greek], which, in the sense of divination
by ghosts, may be found in Bailey's _Dictionary_ (1751: also furnishes a
precedent for my coinage.]

[Footnote 26: "Kami" is used in the sense of Elohim; and is also, like our word
"Lord," employed as a title of respect among men, as indeed Elohim was.]

[Footnote 27: [The Assyrians thus raised Assur to a position of pre-eminence.]]

[Footnote 28: I refer those who wish to know the reasons which lead me to take up
this position to the works of Reuss and Wellhausen, [and especially to
Stade's _Geschichte des Volkes Israel._]]

[Footnote 29: Bunsen. _Egypt's Place,_ vol. v. p.129, note.]

[Footnote 30: See Birch, in _Egypt's Place,_ vol. v; and Brugsch, _History of
Egypt._]

[Footnote 31: Even by Graetz, who, though a fair enough historian, cannot be
accused of any desire to over-estimate the importance of Egyptian
influence upon his people.]

[Footnote 32: Graetz, _Geschichte der Juden,_ Bd. i. p. 370.]

[Footnote 33: See the careful analsyis of the work of the Alexandrian philosopher
and theologian (who, it should be remembered, was a most devout Jew,
held in the highest esteem by his countrymen) in Siegfried's _Philo von
Alexandrien,_ 1875. (Also Dr. J. Drummond's _Philo Judaeus,_ 1888.)]

[Footnote 34: I am not unaware of the existence of many and widely divergent
sects and schools among the Jews at all periods of their history, since
the dispersion. But I imagine that orthodox Judaism is now pretty much
what it was in Philo's time; while Peter and Paul, if they could return
to life, would certainly have to learn the catechism of either the
Roman, Greek, or Anglican Churches, if they desired to be considered
orthodox Christians.]

[Footnote 35: Dante's description of Lucifer engaged in the eternal mastication
of Brutus, Cassius, and Judas Iscariot--

   "Da ogni bocca dirompea co' denti
      Un peccatore, a guisa di maciulla,
      Si che tre ne facea cosi dolenti.
    A quel dinanzi il mordere era nulla,
      Verso 'l graffiar, che tal volta la schiena
      Rimanea della pelle tutta brulla"--

is quite in harmony with the Pisan picture and perfectly Polynesian in
conception.]