Thus realities become metaphors and metaphors realities; the fact dwindles into shadowy nothingness and the fancy springs into actual being. The historical incident becomes first indistinct and then is forgotten; the metaphorical name of the dead ancestor is first respected in the animal or plant, then worshiped in the animal or plant, and finally the nickname and the ancestor both are forgotten and the idea becomes the entity, and the veritable object of worship. From forgetfulness of primogenitor and metaphor, conceiving the animal to be the very ancestor, words are put into the animal's mouth, the sayings of the ancestor become the sayings of the brute; hence mythological legends of talking beasts, and birds, and wise fishes. To one animal is attributed a miraculous cure, to another, assistance in time of trouble; one animal is a deceiver, another a betrayer; and thus through their myths and metaphors we may look back into the soul of savagism and into their soul of nature.
That this is the origin of some phases of fetichism there can be no doubt; that it is the origin of all religions, or even the only method by which animal and plant worship originates, I do not believe. While there are undoubtedly general principles underlying all religious conceptions, it does not necessarily follow, that in every instance the methods of arriving at those fundamental principles must be identical. As with us a child weeps over a dead mother's picture, regarding it with fond devotion, so the dutiful barbarian son, in order the better to propitiate the favor of his dead ancestor, sometimes carves his image in wood or stone, which sentiment with time lapses into idolatry. Any object which strikes the rude fancy as analogous to the character of an individual may become an object of worship.
The interpretation of myth can never be absolute and positive; yet we may in almost every instance discover the general purport. Thus a superior god, we may be almost sure, refers to some potent hero, some primitive ruler, whom tradition has made superhuman in origin and in power; demigods, subordinate or inferior beings in power, must be regarded as legendary, referring to certain influential persons, identified with some element or incident in which the deified personage played a conspicuous part.
Although in mythology religion is the dominant element, yet mythology is not wholly made up of religion, nor are all primitive religions mythical. "There are few mistakes" says Professor Max Müller "so widely spread and so firmly established as that which makes us confound the religion and the mythology of the ancient nations of the world. How mythology arises, necessarily and naturally, I tried to explain in my former lectures, and we saw that, as an affection or disorder of language, mythology may infect every part of the intellectual life of man. True it is that no ideas are more liable to mythological disease than religious ideas, because they transcend those regions of our experience within which language has its natural origin, and must therefore, according to their very nature, be satisfied with metaphorical expressions. Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither hath it entered into the heart of man. Yet even the religions of the ancient nations are by no means inevitably and altogether mythological. On the contrary, as a diseased frame pre-supposes a healthy frame, so a mythological religion pre-supposes, I believe, a healthy religion."
FUNDAMENTAL IDEAS OF RELIGION.
The universal secrets of supernatural beings are wrapped up in probable or possible fable; the elements of physical nature are impersonated in allegories, and arrayed in forms perceptible to the imagination; deities are sometimes introduced into the machinery of the supernatural in order to gratify that love for the marvelous which every attempt to explain the mysterious forces of nature creates in the ignorant mind. Yet it cannot truly be said that any form of religion, much less any religion was wholly invented. Fanatics sometimes originate doctrines, and the Church sets forth its dogmas, but there must be a foundation of truth or the edifice cannot stand. Inventions there undoubtedly have been and are, but inventions, sooner or later fall to the ground, while the essential principles underlying religion and mythology, though momentarily overcome or swept away, are sure to remain.
Every one of the fundamental ideas of religion is of indigenous origin, generating spontaneously in the human heart. It is a characteristic of mythology that the present inhabitants of the world descended from some nobler race. From the nobler impulses of fancy the savage derives his origin. His higher instincts teach him that his dim distant past, and his impenetrable future, are alike of a lighter, more ethereal nature; that his earthly nature is base, that that which binds him to earth is the lowest, vilest part of himself.
The tendency of positive knowledge is to overthrow superstition. Hence as science develops, many tenets of established religions, palpably erroneous, are dropped, and the more knowledge becomes real, the more real knowledge is denied. Superstition is not the effect of an active imagination, but shows rather a lack of imagination, for we see that the lower the stage of intelligence, and the feebler the imagination, the greater the superstition. A keen, vivid imagination, although capable of broader and more complicated conceptions, is able to explain the cruder marvels, and consequently to dispel the coarser phases of superstition, while the dull intellect accepts everything which is put upon it as true. Ultimate religious conceptions are symbolic rather than actual. Ultimate ideas of the universe are even beyond the grasp of the profoundest intellect. We can form but an approximate idea of the sphere on which we live. To form conceptions of the relative and actual distances and magnitudes of heavenly bodies, of systems of worlds, and eternities of space, the human mind is totally inadequate. If, therefore, the mind is unable to grasp material visible objects, how much less are we able to measure the invisible and eternal.
When therefore the savage attempts to solve the problem of natural phenomena, he first reduces broad conceptions to symbolic ideas. He moulds his deity according to the measure of his mind; and in forming a skeleton upon which to elaborate his religious instincts, proximate theories are accepted, and almost any explanation appears to him plausible. The potential creations of his fancy are brought within the compass of his comprehension; symbolic gods are moulded from mud, or carved from wood or stone; and thus by segregating an infinitesimal part of the vast idea of deity, the worshiper meets the material requirements of his religious conceptions. And although the lower forms of worship are abandoned as the intellect unfolds, the same principle is continued. We set up in the mind symbols of the ultimate idea which is too great for our grasp, and imagining ourselves in possession of the actual idea, we fall into numberless errors concerning what we believe or think. The atheistic hypothesis of self-existence, the pantheistic hypothesis of self-creation, and the theistic hypothesis of creation by an external agency are equally unthinkable, and therefore as postulates equally untenable. Yet underlying all, however gross or superstitious the dogma, is one fundamental truth, namely, that there is a problem to be solved, an existent mysterious universe to be accounted for.
Deep down in every human breast is implanted a religiosity as a fundamental attribute of man's nature; a consciousness that behind visible appearances is an invisible power; underlying all conception is an instinct or intuition from which there is no escape, that beyond material actualities potential agencies are at work; and throughout all belief, from the stupidest fetichism to the most exalted monotheism, as part of these instinctive convictions, it is held that the beings, or being, who rule man's destiny may be propitiated.