CHAPTER XLVII. The Belief in Supernatural Beings

THE BELIEF IN SUPERNATURAL BEINGS

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

Men distinguish between two classes of phenomena--"natural" and "supernatural," between phenomena which they are familiar with and, in consequence, ascribe to "natural causes," and other phenomena which seem to them unfamiliar, mysterious, and are therefore supposed to spring from causes of a "supernatural" character. We meet with this distinction at the lowest stages of culture known to us, as well as at higher stages. It may be that in the mind of a savage the natural and supernatural are often confused, and that no definite limit can be drawn between the phenomena which he refers to the one class and those which he refers to the other; but he certainly sees a difference between events of everyday occurrence or ordinary objects of nature and other events or objects which fill him with mysterious awe. The germ of such a {583} distinction is found even in the lower animal world. The horse fears the whip but it does not make him shy; on the other hand, he may shy when he sees an umbrella opened before him or a paper moving on the ground. The whip is well known to the horse, whereas the moving paper or umbrella is strange and uncanny. Dogs and cats are alarmed by an unusual noise or appearance, and remain uneasy till they have by examination satisfied themselves of the nature of its cause. Professor Romanes frightened a dog by attaching a fine thread to a bone and surreptitiously drawing it from the animal, giving to the bone the appearance of self-movement; and the same dog was frightened by soap-bubbles. Even a lion is scared by an unexpected noise or the sight of an unfamiliar object; a horse, the lion's favourite prey, has been known to wander for days in the vicinity of a troop of these animals and be left unmolested simply because it was blanketed and knee-haltered. And we are told of a tiger which stood trembling and roaring in an ecstasy of fear when a mouse tied by a string to a stick had been inserted into its cage. Little children are apt to be terrified by the strange and irregular behaviour of a feather as it glides along the floor or lifts itself into the air.

But the primitive mind not only distinguishes between the natural and the supernatural, it makes, practically, yet a further distinction. The supernatural, like the natural, may be looked upon in the light of mechanical energy, which discharges itself without the aid of any volitional activity. This is, for instance, the case with the supernatural force inherent in a tabooed object; mere contact with such an object communicates the taboo infection. So also the baneful energy in a curse is originally conceived as a kind of supernatural miasma, which injures or destroys anybody to whom it cleaves; in fact, to {584} taboo a certain thing commonly consists in charging it with a curse. On the other hand, supernatural qualities may also be attributed to the mental constitution of animate beings, especially to their will. Such an attribution makes them supernatural beings, as distinct from any ordinary individuals who, without being endowed with special miraculous gifts, may make use of supernatural mechanical energy in magical practices. This distinction is in many cases vague; a wizard may be looked upon as a god and a god as a wizard. But it is nevertheless essential, and is at the bottom of the difference between religion and magic. Religion may be defined as a belief in and a regardful attitude towards a supernatural being on whom man feels himself dependent and to whose will he makes an appeal in his worship. Supernatural mechanical power, on the other hand, is applied in magic. He who performs a purely magical act utilises such power without making any appeal at all to the will of a supernatural being.

This, I think, is what we generally understand by religion and magic. But in the Latin word religio there seems to be no indication of such a distinction. Religio is probably related to religare, which means "to tie." It is commonly assumed that the relationship between these words implies that in religion man was supposed to be tied by his god. But I venture to believe that the connection between them allows of another and more natural interpretation--that it was not the man who was tied by the god, but the god who was tied by the man. This interpretation was suggested to me by certain ideas and practices prevalent in Morocco. The Moors are in the habit of tying rags to objects belonging to a síyid, that is, a place where a saint has, or is supposed to have, his grave, or where such a person is said to have sat or camped. In very many cases, at least, this tying of rags is [(]âr upon the {585} saint, and l-[(]âr implies the transference of a conditional curse. Thus, in the Great Atlas Mountains I found a large number of rags tied to a pole which was stuck in a cairn dedicated to the great saint Mûlai [(]Abd-[)u]l-[k.]âder, and when I asked for an explanation the answer was that petitioners generally fasten a strip of their clothes to the pole muttering some words like these:--"O saint, behold! I promised thee an offering, and I will not release (literally 'open') thee until thou attendest to my business." If the petitioner's wish is fulfilled he goes back to the place, offers the sacrifice which he promised, and unties the knot which he made. A Berber servant of mine from Aglu in Sûs told me that once when in prison he invoked Lälla R[)a][h.]ma Yusf, a great female saint whose tomb is in a neighbouring district, and tied his turban, saying, "I am tying thee, Lälla R[)a][h.]ma Yusf, and I am not going to open the knot till thou hast helped me." Or a person in distress will go to her grave and knot the leaves of some palmetto growing in its vicinity, with the words, "I tied thee here, O saint, and I shall not release thee unless thou releasest me from the toils in which I am at present." All this is what we should call magic, but the Romans would probably have called it religio. They were much more addicted to magic than to true religion; they wanted to compel the gods rather than to be compelled by them. Their religio was probably nearly akin to the Greek [Greek: kata/desmos], which meant not only an ordinary tie, but also a magic tie or knot or a bewitching thereby. Plato speaks of persons who with magical arts and incantations bound the gods, as they said, to execute their will. That religio, however, from having originally a magical significance, {586} has come to be used in the sense which we attribute to the term "religion," is not difficult to explain. Men make use of magic not only in relation to their fellow men, but in relation to their gods. Magical and religious elements are often almost inseparably intermingled in one and the same act; and, as we shall soon see, the magical means of constraining a god are often externally very similar to the chief forms of religious worship, prayer and sacrifice.

That mystery is the essential characteristic of supernatural beings is proved by innumerable facts. It is testified by language. The most prominent belief in the religion of the North American Indians was their theory of manitou, that is, of "a spiritual and mysterious power thought to reside in some material form." The word is Algonkin, but all the tribes had some equivalent for it. Thus the Dacotahs express the essential attribute of their deities by the term wakan, which signifies anything which they cannot comprehend, "whatever is wonderful, mysterious, superhuman, or supernatural." The Navaho word d[)i]g[)i]'n likewise means "sacred, divine, mysterious, or holy"; and so does the Hidatsa term mahopa. In Fiji "the native word expressive of divinity is kalou, which, while used to denote the people's highest notion of a god, is also constantly heard as a qualification of anything great or marvellous." The Maoris of New Zealand applied the word atua, which is generally translated as "god," not only to spirits of every description, but to various phenomena not understood, such as menstruation and foreign marvels, a compass for instance, or a barometer. The natives of Madagascar, {587} says Ellis, designate by the term ndriamanitra, or god, everything that exceeds the capacity of their understanding. "Whatever is new and useful and extraordinary, is called god. . . . Rice, money, thunder and lightning, and earthquakes, are all called god. . . . Taratasy, or book, they call god, from its wonderful capacity of speaking by merely looking at it." The Monbuttu use the word kilima for anything they do not understand--the thunder, a shadow, the reflection in water, as well as the supreme being in which they vaguely believe. The Masai conception of the deity (ng[)a]i), says Dr. Thomson, "seems to be marvellously vague. I was Ng[)a]i. My language was Ng[)a]i. Ng[)a]i was in the steaming holes. . . . In fact, whatever struck them as strange or incomprehensible, that they at once assumed had some connection with Ng[)a]i." Mr. and Mrs. Hinde use "the Unknown" as their equivalent of the word ng[)a]i.

The testimony of language is corroborated by kindred facts referring to the nature of those objects which are most commonly worshipped. Among all the American tribes, says Mr. Dorman, "any remarkable features in natural scenery or dangerous places became objects of superstitious dread and veneration, because they were supposed to be abodes of gods." A great cataract, a difficult and dangerous ford in a river, a spring bubbling up from the ground, a volcano, a high mountain, an isolated rock, a curious or unusually large tree, the bones of the mastodon or of some other immense animal--all were looked upon by the Indians with superstitious respect {588} or were propitiated by offerings. In Fiji "every object that is specially fearful, or vicious, or injurious, or novel," is eligible for admission to the native Pantheon. It is said that when the Aëtas of the Philippines saw the first locomotive passing through their country "they all fell upon their knees in abject terror, worshipping the strange monster as some new and powerful deity." Of the shamanistic peoples in Siberia Georgi writes, "All the celestial bodies, and all terrestrial objects of a considerable magnitude, all the phenomena of nature that can do good or harm, every appearance capable of conveying terror into a weak and superstitious mind, are so many gods to whom they direct a particular adoration." Among the Samoyedes "a curiously twisted tree, a stone with an uncommon shape would receive, and in some quarters still receives, not only veneration but actual ceremonial worship." Castrén states that the Ostyaks worshipped no other objects of nature but such as were very unusual and peculiar either in shape or quality. The Lapps made offerings not only to large and strange-looking objects, but to places which were difficult to pass, or where some accident had occurred, or where they had been either exceptionally unlucky or exceptionally lucky in fishing or the chase. The Ainu of Japan deify all objects and phenomena which seem to them extraordinary or dreadful. In China "a steep mountain, or any mountain at all remarkable, is supposed to have a special local spirit, who acts as guardian." The average middle-class Hindu, according to Sir Alfred Lyall, worships stocks or stones which are unusual or grotesque in size, shape, or position; or inanimate things which are gifted with mysterious {589} motion; or animals which he fears; or visible things, animate or inanimate, which are directly or indirectly useful and profitable or which possess any incomprehensible function or property. From all parts of Africa we hear of similar cults. The Negroes of Sierra Leone dedicate to their spirits places which "inspire the spectator with awe, or are remarkable for their appearance, as immensely large trees rendered venerable by age, rocks appearing in the midst of rivers, and having something peculiar in their form, in short, whatever appears to them strange or uncommon." When Tshi-speaking natives of the Gold Coast take up their abode near any remarkable natural feature or object, they worship and seek to propitiate its indwelling spirit; whereas they do not worship any of the heavenly bodies, the regularity of whose appearance makes little impression upon their minds. Throughout East Africa the people seem to attach religious sanctity to anything of extraordinary size; in the island of Zanzibar, where the hills are low, they reverence the baobab tree, which is the largest growing there, and in all parts of the country where hills are not found they worship some great stone or tall tree. In Morocco places of striking appearance are generally supposed to be haunted by jnûn (jinn) or are associated with some dead saint. As I have elsewhere tried to show, the Arabic jinn were probably "beings invented to explain what seems to fall outside the ordinary pale of nature, the wonderful and unexpected, the superstitious imaginations of men who fear"; and the saint was in many cases only the successor of the jinn. Indeed, the superstitious dread of unusual objects is not altogether dead even among ourselves.{590} It survives in England to this day in the habit of ascribing grotesque and striking landmarks or puzzling antiquities to the Devil, who became the residuary legatee of obsolete pagan superstitions in Christian countries.

The common prevalence of animal worship is no doubt due to the mysteriousness of the animal world; the most uncanny of all creatures, the serpent, is also the one most generally worshipped. Throughout India we meet with the veneration of animals which by their appearance or habits startle human beings. In the Indian tribes of North America animals of an unusual size were objects of some kind of adoration. In certain parts of Africa a cock crowing in the evening or a crane alighting on a house-top is regarded as supernatural. White men have often been taken for spirits by red, yellow, or black savages, when seen by them for the first time. Religious veneration is among various races bestowed on persons suffering from some abnormality, such as deformity, albinoism, or madness. Some South American Indians "regard as divinities all phenomenal children, principally such as are born with a larger number of fingers or toes than is natural." The Hindus venerate persons remarkable for any extraordinary qualities great valour, virtue, or even vice. By performing miracles men directly prove that they are supernatural beings. The Muhammedan saints, like the Christian in olden days, are believed to perform all kinds of wonders, such as flying in the air, passing unhurt {591} through fire, walking upon water, transporting themselves in a moment of time to immense distances, or supporting themselves and others with food in desert places. When Muhammed first claimed to be the Prophet of Allah, he was urged to give proof of his calling by working some miracle; and though he uniformly denied that he possessed such power, it was nevertheless ascribed to him even by his contemporaries.

The dead are objects of worship much more commonly than are the living. Whilst the human individual consisting of body and soul is as a rule well-known, the disembodied soul, seen only in dreams or visions, is a mysterious being which inspires the survivors with awe. Mr. Spencer and Mr. Grant Allen even regard the worship of the dead as "the root of every religion." But this is to carry the ghost theory to an extreme for which there is no justification in facts. The spirits of the dead are worshipped because they are held capable of influencing, in a mysterious manner, the welfare of the living; but there is no reason to assume that they were originally conceived as the only supernatural agents existing. We have noticed that even the lower animals show signs of the same feeling as underlies the belief in supernatural beings; and we can hardly suppose that they are believers in ghosts.

On account of their wonderful effects medicines, intoxicants, and stimulants, are frequently objects of veneration. Most of the plants for which the American Indians had superstitious feelings were such as have medical qualities; tobacco was generally held sacred by them, and so was cocoa in Peru. The Vedic deification {592} of the drink soma was due to its exhilarating and invigorating effects.

Among all the phenomena of nature none is more wonderful, impressive, awe-inspiring than thunder, and none seems more generally to have given rise to religious veneration. But with growing reflection man finds a mystery even in events of daily occurrence. The Vedic poet, when he sees the sun moving freely through the heavens, asks how it comes that it does not fall downward, although "unpropped beneath, not fastened firm, and downward turned"; and it seems to him a miracle that the sparkling waters of all rivers flow into one ocean without ever filling it. "Verily," says the Koran, "in the creation of the heavens and the earth, and in the succession of night and day, are signs to those possessed of minds."

The attribution of miraculous power to a certain object or being may be due to direct experience of some effect produced by it, as in the case of a medical plant, or a poisonous snake, or a miracle-working spring, or a Christian or Muhammedan saint. Or it may be based on the inference that objects with a strange and mysterious appearance also possess strange and mysterious powers. This inference, too, is in a way supported by facts. The unusual appearance of the object makes an impression on the person who sees it, and predisposes him to the belief that the object is endowed with secret powers. If then anything unusual actually happens in its neighbourhood or shortly after it has been seen, the strange event is attributed to the influence of the strange object. Thus a Siberian tribe came to regard the camel as the small-pox demon because, just when the animal had appeared among them for the first time with a passing caravan, the small-pox broke out. Of the British Guiana Indian we are {593} told by Sir E. F. Im Thurn that if his eye falls upon a rock in any way abnormal or curious, and if shortly after any evil happens to him, he regards rock and evil as cause and effect, and perceives a spirit in the rock. With the lapse of time the data of experience readily increase. If a certain object has gained the reputation of being supernatural, it is looked upon as the cause of all kinds of unusual events which may possibly be associated with it. When I visited the large cave Imi-nta[k.][k.]ándut in the Great Atlas Mountains, the interior of which is said to contain a whole spirit city, my horse happened to stumble on my way back to my camp, and fell upon one of my servants who was carrying a gun. The gun was broken and the man became lame for some days. I was told that the accident was caused by the cave spirits, because they were displeased at my visit. When the following day I again passed the cave with my little caravan, heavy rain began to fall; and now the rain was attributed to the ill-temper of the spirits.

Startling events are ascribed to the activity not only of visible, but of invisible supernatural agents. Thus sudden or strange diseases are, at the lower stages of civilisation, commonly supposed to be occasioned by a supernatural being, which has taken up its abode in the sick person's body, or otherwise sent the disease. Among the Maoris, for instance, "each disease was supposed to be occasioned by a different god, who resided in the part affected." The Australian Kurnai maintain that phthisis, pneumonia, bowel complaints, and insanity are produced by an evil spirit, "who is like the wind." According to Moorish beliefs convulsions, epileptic or paralytic fits, rheumatic or neuralgic pains, and certain rare and violent epidemics, like the cholera, are caused by spirits, which either strike their victim, or enter his body, or sometimes, in the case of an epidemic, shoot at the {594} people with poisonous arrows. Indeed, unexpected events of every kind are readily ascribed to supernatural influence, in Morocco and elsewhere. Among the North American Indians "the storms and tempests were generally thought to be produced by aërial spirits from hostile lands." Among the Hudson Bay Indians "everything not understood is attributed to the working of one of the numerous spirits." "Dans toute l'Afrique," says M. Duveyrier in his description of the Touareg, "il n'y a pas un individu, éclairé ou ignare, instruit ou illettré, qui n'attribue aux génies tout ce qui arrive d'extraordinaire sur la terre." Of the South African natives Livingstone writes, "Everything not to be accounted for by common causes, whether of good or evil, is ascribed to the Deity." With the progress of science the chain of natural causes is extended, and, as Livy puts it, it is left to superstition alone to see the interference of the deity in trifling matters. Among ourselves the ordinary truths of science are so generally recognised that in this domain God is seldom supposed to interfere. On the other hand, with regard to social events, the causes of which are often hidden, the idea of Providence is still constantly needed to fill up the gap of human ignorance.

Man's belief in supernatural agents, then, is an attempt to explain strange and mysterious phenomena which suggest a volitional cause. The assumed cause is the will of a supernatural being. Such beings are thus, in the first place, conceived as volitional. But a being which has a will must have a mind, with emotions, desires, and a certain amount of intelligence. Neither the savage nor ourselves can imagine a volitional being {595} which has nothing but a will. If an object of nature, therefore, is looked upon as a supernatural agent, mentality and life are at the same time attributed to it as a matter of course. This I take to be the real origin of animism. It is not correct to say that "as the objects of the visible world are conceived as animated, volitional, and emotional, they may be deemed the originators of those misfortunes of which the true cause is unknown." This is to reverse the actual order of ideas. Inanimate things are conceived as volitional, emotional, and animate, because they are deemed the originators of startling events. The savage does not speculate upon the nature of things unless he has an interest in doing so. He is not generally inquisitive as to causes. The natives of West Australia, says Eyre, "are not naturally a reasoning people, and by no means given to the investigation of causes or their effects." In matters not concerning the common wants of life the mind of the Brazilian Indian is a blank. When Mungo Park asked some negroes, what became of the sun during the night? they considered his question a very childish one; "they had never indulged a conjecture, nor formed any hypothesis, about the matter." I often found the Beduins of Morocco extremely curious, but their curiosity consisted in the question, What? rather than in the question, Why?

Whilst belief in supernatural agents endowed with a will made the savage an animist, the idea that a mind presupposes a body, when thought out, led to anthropomorphism. Impossible as it is to imagine a will without a mind, it is hardly less impossible to imagine a mind without a body. The immaterial soul is an abstraction to which has been attributed a metaphysical reality, but of which no clear conception can be formed. As Hobbes observed, the opinion that spirits are incorporeal or immaterial, "could {596} never enter into the mind of any man by nature; because, though men may put together words . . . . as Spirit and Incorporeall; yet they can never have the imagination of anything answering to them." Descartes himself frankly confessed, "What the soul itself was I either did not stay to consider, or, if I did, I imagined that it was something extremely rare and subtile, like wind, or flame, or ether, spread through my grosser parts." The supernatural agents were consequently of necessity considered to possess a more or less material constitution. The disembodied human soul which the savage saw in dreams or visions, in the shadow or the reflection, was only the least material being which he could imagine; and when raised to the dignity of an ancestor-god, it by no means lost its materiality, but, on the contrary, tended to acquire a more substantial body.

Of a grosser substantiality and very unlike the human shape are the inanimate objects of nature which receive divine veneration. It has been said of savages that they do not worship the thing itself, only the spirit dwelling in it. But such a distinction cannot be primitive. The natural object is worshipped because it is believed to possess supernatural power, but it is nevertheless the object itself that is worshipped. Castrén, who combined great personal experience with unusual acuteness of judgment, states that the Samoyedes do not know of any spirits attached to objects of nature, but worship the objects as such; "in other words, they do not separate the spirit from the matter, but adore the thing in its totality as a divine being." Of the deification of the Nerbudda river Sir W. H. Sleeman likewise observes, "As in the case of the Ganges, it is the river itself to whom they address themselves, and not to any deity residing in it, or presiding over it--the stream itself is the deity which fills their imaginations, and receives their {597} homage." The animist who endows an inanimate object with a soul regards the visible thing itself as its body. How a being with such a body, like a tree or a stone, can hear the words of men, can see their doings, and can partake of the food they offer, might be difficult to explain--if it had to be explained. But, as I have said, the inquisitiveness of savage curiosity does not go to the roots of things, and religion is in its essence mystery.

However, in proportion as a supernatural being comes more and more to occupy the thoughts of its worshippers and to stir their imagination, a more distinct personality is attributed to it; and at length neither the ethereal or vaporous materiality of a departed human soul, nor the crude substantiality of an inanimate object is considered a satisfactory body for such a being. It is humanised also with regard to its essential shape. The Koriaks of Siberia believe "that objects and phenomena of nature conceal an anthropomorphic substance underneath their outer forms"; but they also show the first signs of a belief in spiritual owners or masters ruling over certain classes of things or over large objects. The supernatural being which is originally embodied in a natural phenomenon is gradually placed behind it. In the Vedic hymns we may study this anthropomorphism as a process in growth. The true gods of the Veda are almost without exception the deified representatives of the phenomena or forces of nature, which are personified, though in varying degrees. When the name of the god is the same as that of his natural basis, the personification has not yet advanced beyond the rudimentary stage; names like Dyaus ("heaven"), P[r.]thiv[=i] ("earth"), S[=u]rya ("sun"), U[s.]as ("dawn"), represent the double character of natural phenomena and of the personalities presiding over them. Speaking of the nature of the gods, the ancient Vedic interpreter Y[=a]ska remarks that "what is seen of the gods is certainly not {598} anthropomorphic, for example the sun, the earth, and so forth." Again, when the name of the god is different from that of the physical substance he is supposed to inhabit, the anthropomorphism is more developed, though never very distinct. The Vedic people always recognised behind its gods the natural forces of which they were the expression, and their physical appearance often only represents aspects of their natural bases figuratively described to illustrate their activities. The sun is spoken of as the eye with which Varuna observes mankind; or it is said that the all-seeing sun, rising from his abode, goes to the dwellings of Mitra and Varuna to report the deeds of men. Even to this day the Hindu, to whatever sect he may belong, does homage to the rising sun every morning of his life by repeating a text of the Veda. The god does not very readily change his old solid body for another which, though more respectable, has the disadvantage of being invisible. The simple unreflecting mind finds it easier to worship a material thing which may be seen, than a hidden god, however perfect in shape. To the common Japanese the sun is still the god to whom he prays morning and evening. Whilst Chinese scholars declare that the sacrifice offered to Heaven "is assuredly not addressed to the material and sensible heaven, which our eyes see, but to the Master of heaven, earth, and all things," the people are less metaphysical; and the Russian peasant to this day makes an appeal to the Svarog of the old religion when crying, "Dost thou hear, O Sky? dost thou see, O Sky?" That the worship of animals survives at comparatively late stages of civilisation is probably due to the double advantage of their bodies being both visible and animate.

{599} But though man created his gods in his own image and likeness, endowing them with a mind and a body modelled after his own, he never lost sight of the difference between him and them. He always ascribed to them a superior power of action; otherwise they would have been no gods at all. In many cases, at least, he also attributed to them a superior knowledge. The Bechuanas maintain that their gods are much wiser than they are themselves. In the admonitions of an Aztek mother to her daughter reference is made to a god who "sees every secret fault." The gods of the Greeks and Romans were possessed of superhuman wisdom, and so was Yahveh. It is true that the anthropomorphic god acquires knowledge of the affairs of men through his senses. When hearing the cry of Sodom and Gomorrah, Yahveh said, "I will go down now, and see whether they have done altogether according to the cry of it, which is come unto me; and if not, I will know." But the senses of a god are generally superior to those of a man. "A god," says Orestes, "can hear even from a distance." Varuna has an all-seeing eye, and the Zoroastrian Mithra has a thousand ears and ten thousand eyes. In other respects, also, the bodies of gods excel the bodies of men. Sometimes they are more beautiful, sometimes they have a gigantic shape. When Ares is felled to the ground by the stone flung by Athene, his body covers seven roods of land. When Here takes a solemn oath, she grasps the earth with one hand and the sea with the other. In three steps Poseidon goes an immense distance; in three paces Vishnu traverses earth, air, and sky.

However, the tendency to make gods more and more {600} perfect--of which I shall say more in a following chapter--gradually led to the notion that materiality is a quality which is not becoming to a god; hence men endeavoured, to the best of their ability, to grasp the idea of a purely spiritual being, endowed with a will and even with human emotions, but without a material body. Like Xenophanes in Greece, the Inca Yupangui in Peru protested against the prevailing anthropomorphism, declaring that purely spiritual service was befitting the almighty creator, not tributes or sacrifices. In the Bible we notice a successive transformation of the nature of the deity, from crude sensuousness to pure spirituality. According to the oldest traditions, Yahveh works and rests, he plants the garden of Eden, he walks in it in the cool of the day, and Adam and Eve hear his voice. In a great part of the Old Testament he is expressly bound by conditions of time and space. He is attached in an especial manner to the Jerusalem temple or some other shrine, and his favour is gained by definite modes of sacrifice. At the time of the Prophets the cruder anthropomorphisms of the earlier religion have been overcome; Yahveh is no longer seen in person, and by a prophet like Isaiah his residence in Zion is almost wholly dematerialised. Yet, as Professor Robertson Smith observes, not even Isaiah has risen to the full height of the New Testament conception that God, who is spirit and who is to be worshipped spiritually, makes no distinction of spot with regard to worship, and is equally near to receive men's prayers in every place. Moslem theologians take pains to point out that God neither is begotten nor begets, and that he is without figure, form, colour, and parts. He hears all sounds, whether low or loud; but he hears without an ear. He sees all things, even the steps of a black ant on a black stone in a dark night; {601} but he has no eyes, as men have. He speaks; but not with a tongue, as men do. He is endowed with knowledge, feelings, and a will. Thus the dematerialised god still retains a mental constitution modelled upon the human soul, with all its bodily desires and imperfections removed, with its higher qualities indefinitely increased, and, above all, endowed with a supernatural power of action.

In following chapters we shall see how the moral ideas of men have been influenced by the attributes they ascribe to supernatural beings.