[62] Doughty, Arabia Deserta, i. 228, 504.
[63] Laurent, Études sur l’histoire de l’Humanité, vii. 346.
That a stranger, who under other circumstances is treated as an inferior being or a foe, liable to be robbed and killed with impunity, should enjoy such extraordinary privileges as a guest, is certainly one of the most curious contrasts which present themselves to a student of the moral ideas of mankind. It may be asked, why should he be received at all? Of course, he stands in need of protection and support, but why should those who do not know him care for that?
One answer is that his helpless condition may excite pity; facts seem to prove that even among savages the altruistic feelings, however narrow, can be stirred by the sight of a suffering and harmless stranger. Another answer is that the host himself may expect to reap benefit from his act. And there can be little doubt that the rules of hospitality are in the main based on egoistic considerations.
It has been justly observed that in uncivilised countries, where there is no public accommodation for travellers, “hospitality is so necessary, and so much required by the mutual convenience of all parties, as to detract greatly from its merit as a moral quality.”[64] When the stranger belongs to a community with which a reciprocity of intercourse prevails, it is prudent to give him a hearty reception; he who is the host to-day may be the guest tomorrow. “If the Red Indians are hospitable,” says Domenech, “they also look for their hospitality being returned with the same marks of respect and consideration.”[65] Moreover, the stranger is a bearer of news and tidings, and as such may be a welcome guest where communication between different places is slow and rare.[66] During my wanderings in the remote forests of Northern Finland I was constantly welcomed with the phrase, “What news?” But the stranger may be supposed to bring with him something which is valued even more highly, namely, good luck or blessings.
[64] Winterbottom, op. cit. i. 214.
[65] Domenech, Seven Years’ Residence in the Great Deserts of North America, ii. 319. Cf. Dunbar, ‘Pawnee Indians.’ in Magazine of American History, viii. 745; Brett, Indian Tribes of Guiana, p. 347; Bernau, Missionary Labours in British Guiana, p. 51; von den Steinen, Unter den Naturvölkern Zentral-Brasiliens, p. 333 sq. (Bakaïri); Georgi, op. cit. iii. 154 (Kamchadales); Smeaton, op. cit. p. 146 (Karens); Ellis, Polynesian Researches, i. 95 (Society Islanders); Pritchard, Polynesian Reminiscences, p. 132, and Brenchley, op. cit. p. 76 (Samoans); Williams and Calvert, op. cit. p. 110, and Anderson, Notes of Travel in Fiji and New Caledonia, p. 135 (Fijians); Chavanne, Die Sahara, p. 393 (Arabs of the Sahara).
[66] Wright, Domestic Manners and Sentiments in England during the Middle Ages, p. 329.
During the first days of my stay at Demnat, in the Great Atlas, the natives in spite of their hostility towards Europeans, said they were quite pleased with my coming to see them, because I had brought with me rain and an increase of the import of victuals, which just before my arrival had been very scarce. So, too, whilst residing among the Andjra mountaineers in the North of Morocco, I was said to be a person with “propitious ankles,” because, since I settled down among them, the village where I stayed was frequently visited by Shereefs—presumed descendants of the Prophet Muhammed—who are always highly valued guests on account of the baraka, or holiness, with which they are supposed in a smaller or greater degree to be endowed. The stranger may be a source of good fortune either involuntarily, as a bearer of luck, or through his good wishes; and there is every reason to hope that he will, if treated hospitably, return the kindness of his host with a blessing. According to the old traveller d’Arvieux, strangers, who come to an Arab village are received by the Sheikh with some such words as these:—“You are welcome; praised be God that you are in good health; your arrival draws down the blessing of heaven upon us; the house and all that is in it is yours, you are masters of it.”[67] It is said in one of the sacred books of India that through a Brâhmana guest the people obtain rain, and food through rain, hence they know that “the hospitable reception of a guest is a ceremony averting evil.”[68] When we read in the Laws of Manu that “the hospitable reception of guests procures wealth, fame, long life, and heavenly bliss,”[69] it is also reasonable to suppose that this supernatural reward is a result of blessings invoked on the host. In the ‘Suppliants’ of Aeschylus the Chorus sings:—“Let us utter for the Argives blessings in requital of their blessings. And may Zeus of Strangers watch to their fulfilment the rewards that issue from a stranger’s tongue, that they reach their perfect goal.”[70] We can now understand the eagerness with which guests are sought for. When a guest enters the hut of a Kalmuck, “the host, the hostess, and everybody in the hut, rejoice at the arrival of the stranger as at an unexpected fortune.”[71] Among the Arabs of Sinai, “if a stranger be seen from afar coming towards the camp, he is the guest for that night of the first person who descries him, and who, whether a grown man or a child, exclaims, ‘There comes my guest.’ Such a person has a right to entertain the guest that night. Serious quarrels happen on these occasions; and the Arabs often have recourse to their great oath—‘By the divorce (from my wife) I swear that I shall entertain the guest’; upon which all opposition ceases.”[72] It is also very usual in the East to eat before the gate of the house where travellers pass, and every stranger of respectable appearance is invariably requested to sit down and partake of the repast.[73] Among the Maoris, “no sooner does a stranger appear in sight, than he is welcomed with the usual cry of ‘Come hither! come hither!’ from numerous voices, and is immediately invited to eat of such provisions as the place affords.”[74]
[67] d’Arvieux, Travels in Arabia the Desart, p. 131 sq.