The Making of Religion

ods, or supplied models after which such gods might be inventively fashioned, will be criticised in a later chapter. Here it must suffice to say that the conception of a separabl

ng the kinds of belief which served in the development of Polytheism, was Fetishism, itself an adaptation and extension of the idea of separable souls. In this regard,

e been pointed out in a dream, or met in a lucky hour and associated with good fortune, or they may (like a tree with an unexplained stir in its branches, as reported by Kohl) have seemed to show signs of life by spontaneous movements; in fact, a thing may be what Europeans call a fetish for scores of reasons. For our present purpose, as Mr. Tylor says, ‘to class an object as a fetish demands explicit statement that a spirit is considered as embodied

perhaps not normal’ because the phenomena now to be discussed are of the most puzzling character. We may lean to the belief in a supernormal cause of certain hallucinations, but the alleged movements of inanimate objects which probably supply one origin of Fetishism, one suggestion of the presence of a spirit in things dead, leave the inquiring mind in perplexity.

two Malay women in Keeling Island, who held a wooden spoon dressed in clothes like a doll: this spoon had been carried to the grave of a dead man, and becoming inspired at full moon, in fact lunatic, it danced about convulsively, like a table or a hat at a modern spirit séance.’1 Now M. Lefébure has pointed out (in ‘Mélusine’) th

, give a sketch of the nature of the evidence, beginning with that as to the apparently voluntary movements of objects, not untouched. Mr. Tylor quotes from John Bell’s ‘Journey in Asia’ (1719) an account of a Mongol Lama who wished to discover certain stolen pieces of damask. His method was to sit on a bench, when ‘he carried it, or, as was commonly believed, it carried him, to the very tent’ of

scribes the same prac

er a time, begins to move as if endowed with life, and ultimately car

Aymard in the celebrated story of

ld run about’ with a man holding it only on the palms of his hands. Again, a hut is built with a partition down the middle. Men sit there with their hands under one end of the bamboo, while the other end is extended into the empty half of the hut. They then call over the names of the recently dead, till ‘they feel the bamboo moving in their hands.’ A bamboo place

ng to lay out in the interests of psychical research, declined to pay a perplexed diviner, and reserved his capital far

ho has come to inquire. They “fix themselves on the place where the sick man is affected; . . . if the head, they leap

o Umabakulists, John was quite satisf

reported that they are moved by spirits, n

ghost touches it the spirit twists the thread till it breaks, and the ring falls into the basin. With us a ring is held by a thread over a tumbler, and our unconscious movements swing it till it strikes the hour

le, which still revolved. My friend was himself unconsciously pushing. It is undeniable that, to a solitary experimenter, the table seems to make little darts of its own will in a curious way. Thus, the unconsciousness of muscular action on the part of savages engaged in the experiment with sticks would lead them to believe that spirits were animating the wood. The same fallacy beset the table-turner

convulsive manner; and cases are quoted in which the twig writhes when held in a pair of tongs! The best-known modern treatise on the divining-rod is that of M. Chevreul, ‘La Baguette Divinatoire’ (1854). We have also ‘L’Histoire du Merveilleux dans les Temps Modernes,’ by M. Figuier (1860). In 1781 Thouvenel published his 600 experiments with Bleton and others

calculated to check frauds and chance coincidence, and he publishes opinions, hostile or agnostic, by geologists. The evidence, as a general rule, is what is called first-hand in other inquiries. The actual spectators, and often the owners of the land, or the persons in whose int

sible to imitate its characteristic movement by any voluntary effort.’ I have myself held the hands of an amateur performer when the twig was moving, and neither by sight nor touch could I detect any muscular m

ing-rod. But the movements of the twig have never, to my knowledge, been attributed by modern E

bility to water, ore, treasure, and thieves, seems to belong partly to tri

it certainly deserves the attention of science. But no advance will be made till scientifically trained inquirers themselves arrange and test a large number of experiments. Knowledge of the geological ignorance of the dowsers, examples of fraud on their

to bring into the garden ‘a stick that stood behind the parlour door. In great terror she brought it to the garden, her hand firmly clutched on it, nor could she let it go.’ When Mrs. Welton took the stick, ‘it drew her with very considerab

would be just as sensible to use the twig as to use planchette or any other ‘autoscopic’ apparatus. If these elicit knowledge unconsciously present to the mind, mere water-finding ought not to be the sole province of the rod. In the same class as these rods is the forked twig which, in China, is held at each end by t

rated on by two ladies known to myself, wrote a number of details about a visit paid to the chateau for a certain purpose by Mary Stuart. That visit, and its object, a purely personal one, are unknown to history, and the chateau is not spoken of in Mr. Hay Fleming’s careful, but unavoid

rely the civilised and savage practice of automatism, the apparent eliciting of knowledge not otherwise accessible, by the movements of a stick, or a bit of

objects. When objects apparently quite untouched become volatile, the mystery is deeper. This apparent animation and frolicsome behaviour of inanimate objects is reported all through history, and attested by immense quantities of evidence of every degree. It would be tedious to give a full account of the antiquity and diffusion of reports about such occurrences. We find them among Neo

annot feel (in spite of such vast amounts of detected frauds) as if the case of physical mediumship itself, as a freak of nature, were definitely closed. . . . So long as the stories multiply in various lands, and so few are positively explained away, it is bad method to ignore them.’13 Here they are not ignored, because, whatever the cause or causes of the phenomena, they would buttress, if they did not originate, the savage belief in spirits tenanting inanimat

movements of objects, were of a truly odious description, and occurred in full daylight. M. Zoller, deeply attached to his home, which had many interesting associations with the part his family

achine in the house (the family having been enjoined to keep the disturbances as secret as possible), he allowed S. to think that there was.’ Consequently, the phenomena were set down to M. Zoller’s singular idea of making his house untenantable with an ‘electric machine’ — which he did not possess.14 A number of the most respected citizens, including the Superintendent of Police, and the chief magistrate for law, published a statement that neither Zoller, nor any of his family, nor any of themselve

pirit, as is proved by its extraordinary movements.’ Thus the early thinker might reason, and go on to revere the object. It is to be wished that competent observers would pay more attention to such savage practices as crystal-gazing and automatism as illustrated by the s

ore prevalent among the remote ancestors of known savage races than among their modern descendants. We have suggested that clairvoyance, thought transference, and telepathy cannot be dismissed as mere fables, by a cautious inquirer, while even the far more obscure stories of ‘physical manifestations’ are but poorly explained away by those who cannot explain them.17 Again, these faculties have presented — in the acquisition of otherwise unattainable knowledge, in coincidental hallucinations, and in

with matters of verifiable belief and practice. We have to ask whether, when once the doctrine of souls was conceived