been sent to his realm, that such help has become his duty (969 ff.). And it throws an interesting light on the way in which Greeks looked upon these threats that, in vs. 1009, Theonoe refers to our passage in these words : à 8 àμþì túμßæ τῷδ ̓ ὀνειδίζεις πατρί, ἡμῖν ὅδ ̓ αὐτὸς μῦθος. All these are examples of prayers addressed to the dead, but not falling properly within the sphere of necromancy, albeit not far different. Let us now compare a real evocatio mortuorum, by means of magic. Multorum instar,1 I choose the famous passage from Statius' Thebaid, IV. 503-516: cassusne sacerdos audior? an rabido iubeat si Thessala cantu ora sequi atque aegras functorum carpere fibras? et turbare Hecaten . . timetis et triplicis mundi summum, quem scire nefastum. This shows clearly enough how invariably threats were connected with necromancy. Thus also the locus classicus, in Lucan's Pharsalia, VI. 570 ff., shows prayer and threats combined. Nor were, of course, these threats confined only to necromancy. In a charm intended to make the sorcerer familiar with everybody's thoughts, he threatens the gods. that he will destroy the world and let the snake Apophi loose upon them, unless they give him this faculty.2 Neither was this peculiar to Greek magic alone. As the passage just referred to shows Egyptian influence, so in spells of ancient Egypt the sorcerer threatens : "if a crocodile but open its 1 For a list of evocations see G. Ettig, Acheruntica in Leipz. Studien, XIII. Papyrus Anastasy XLVI, 260 ff. = Wessely, Denkschr., XXXVI, p. 133. mouth, I let fall the earth. I make South North," and so forth. And similar threats in necromancy are also found in the Izdubar-Nimrud epos of ancient Babylonia.2 This discussion, I think, must have made clear that the verses Choeph. 466-496 are not a mere reiteration of the preceding song, but are in fact, as Rohde calls them, a "Wecklied," based upon and in all their essential features taken from actually existing popular beliefs. We cannot, however, rest satisfied with this mere statement of fact. The question now presents itself: In what direction shall we look for the original, that is to say, are the poetical passages just examined imitations of magical rites actually performed, or are these analogies taken from magic, the outgrowth of a later development? To put it more tersely, we are confronted by the old problem, as to whether prayer and charmsong are not originally identical, and is not the prayer, taken in our modern sense, only a purified spell? The number of Folk-loristic observations, at the outset, seems to favor such a view. Whithersoever we look among primitive tribes, we find charms and spells so interwoven with the sacrificial ritual that it seems impossible to disentangle the two. Nor is this aspect changed if we look at the depth instead of the width of the evidence. Even the contrite prayers on Assyrian tablets, which so aptly have been called "Busspsalmen," are said to be nothing but prayers by which a stronger god is asked to expel this or that demon who has caused sickness. And as to India, an authority like Hopkins treats under the head of magical practices a prayer addressed to some goddess to make a woman fruitful and gives the following hymn, calculated to procure blessings, as an example of magic in the Atharva Veda : 4 "Blessings blow to us the wind, Blessings glow to us the sun, Blessings be to us the day, Blest to us the night appear, Blest to us the dawn shall shine." Nobody will think for a moment of contesting the antiquity of magical rites. But it seems very hard to relegate a piece of such a beauty as our Aeschylean passage to the low realm 2 Ettig, Acheruntica, 257. 4 Ibid. 154. 1 Erman, Aegypten, 473. 8 E. W. Hopkins, The Religions of India, 149, 3. of witchcraft. More readily I should like to find both of common origin. In a paper published some years ago1 I defined the difference between superstition and magic as follows: The magician aims at the deification of his personality, while superstitious man is always conscious that he is subject to the supernatural. The same distinction, it seems to me, must be made between prayer and spell. In prayer we ask the god for something, leaving it in his power to grant or to refuse, while the spell tries to coerce the god. But neither does this exclude a common origin nor does it stamp the spell as a degraded prayer. On the contrary, it is my opinion that to primitive man nothing that is done in regard to the supernatural is without its distinct and immediate effect. I regard the prayer in exactly the same light as the sacrifice. That the word itself is everywhere fully equivalent to a real action in primitive religious thinking, about that, I think, no doubt is permitted. It is a long time since the force of analogy in superstition and charm has been recognized; analogy, that is, of word and deed. If you say: flesh to flesh and bone to bone, in pronouncing a charm over a broken limb, you do not mean actually to command the broken parts to go together. Thus it can appear only to modern feeling. To the unbiassed primitive mind it is rather thus, that simultaneously and by analogy to my word, and by my word, the severed parts unite again. Nor is this restricted to the sphere of superstition. Says Dr. Ruben 2 of the passage 2 Kings xiii. 14–19: “The reality of the future stands under the influence of its dramatical prototype and pattern: supposing only, that this Spâμa, this piunois, is performed by divine power." Therefore, we may advantageously shift our question from prayer to sacrifice and afterwards, as the same laws evidently govern both, draw our conclusions. This is not the place to enter into a discussion of the various opinions put forth about the nature of sacrifice. A brief statement must be sufficient. The sacrifice has been ex 1 Pauly-Wissowa, Real-Encyclopaedie, I. 32, 39 ff. 2 Paul Ruben, Critical Remarks upon Some Passages of the O.T. p. 1. Compare also his note on in the sense of "creating,” p. 3*. plained (1) as a sign of devotion and reverence, (2) as tribute, (3) as a sign of a covenant, (4) as a means of unification with the deity. But with all due deference to the authors of these explanations I must say that, taken singly, none of them seems to meet satisfactorily all the aspects of the sacrifice. Nor is this to be expected. I am convinced, although not yet fully prepared to prove, that it is a mistake, only too frequently made in mythological research, to assume simplicity of thinking, where, on the contrary, the highest complexity should be expected. It is not in the character of primitive man to think, as it were, in a straight line and to work out one thought. Such clearness of reasoning as is required for this process is a product only of long and severe training during many generations. As I understand it, many threads come together and are tightly interwoven to make up the texture of primitive thought. Not to one cause alone, but to a multiplicity of causes, presenting themselves all at the same time, does primitive man ascribe the effects that fall under his notice. It is in this sense that I desire the following discussion to be received, not as one that offers the principle of sacrifice in intercourse with the divine power, but as discussing one principle among many. And now to proceed in medias res. The most striking feature of all sacrifices, to my mind, is the necessity of tasting in some way of the meat offered. This, in fact, is found everywhere, with two exceptions, viz. the sacrifices to the dead and their gods, and the so-called piacular or conciliatory sacrifices. Of course, this has not escaped the attention of others. The most generally accepted view nowadays seems to be the one first hinted at by Liebrecht and afterwards elaborately worked out by William Robertson Smith 2 and, in his footsteps, by Frazer. Their idea, in short, is that by eating of the sacrificial meat the worshipper eats of the god himself, and by doing this acquires 1 Felix Liebrecht, Zur Volkskunde, 436 ff. 2 W. R. Smith in Encyclop. Brit. "Sacrifice," and in his Lectures on the Religion of the Semites, 2d ed. 8 Frazer, The Golden Bough. a part of the divine nature. But I think that another explanation is at least plausible and answers better. To state my thesis at the outset by the sacrifice the worshipper wants to enter into a blood-covenant with the god exactly as he can enter into a blood-covenant with his fellow-men. For the history and the frequency of blood-covenanting it suffices to refer to Trumbull's book.2 Trumbull, indeed, states that such blood-covenanting with a god was clearly practised in Egypt, but as I do not know enough of Egyptian ritual, I shall not enter on this topic. But he gives enough of other examples to show of such actual occurrences. Thus in India, "the devotee, in the Devil-Dance, cuts and lacerates himself till the blood flows, . . . drinks the blood which flows from his own wounds, or drains the blood of the sacrifice; putting the throat of a decapitated goat to his mouth.” 4 Here the explanation of the god thought incarnate in the sacrifice seems still plausible, and is, indeed, adopted by Trumbull himself. On the other hand, it is not at all necessary to mingle the two kinds of blood. Thus in Borneo "it would seem from the description of Mr. Hatton that, in some instances, the blood-covenanting is by the substitute blood of a fowl held by the two parties to the covenant, while its head is cut off by a third party; without any drinking of each other's blood by those who enter into the covenant." 5 A still more striking instance is reported of the Sioux. Where one Dakota takes the other as his "koda," i.e. god or friend, they become "brothers." " If thus we have proved the possibility that sacrifice may be a vicarious means of blood covenanting, let us see how far this view meets the various aspects of the sacrifice. The privileges and obligations of the blood-covenant may be summed up as follows. Both covenanters become of the same kin this would cover Smith-Frazer's idea of sacrifice. They share all their belongings, from meals and tents on 1 Smith follows this view more outspokenly in his Lectures than in the Encyclopædia. 3 p. 79. 6 Ibid. 55, 4. 2 H. Clay Trumbull, The Blood-Covenant. 4 Ibid. 92. 5 Ibid. 52. |