will agree, I am sure, that the moving and inspiring element of such
a character is mere bodily fear of unknown evil. The only
superstition attributed to him which does not at first sight seem to
have its root in dread is that of the Orphic mysteries. But of them
Muller says that the Dionusos whom they worshipped "was an infernal
deity, connected with Hades, and was the personification, not merely
of rapturous pleasure, but of a deep sorrow for the miseries of
human life." The Orphic societies of Greece seem to have been
peculiarly ascetic, taking no animal food save raw flesh from the
sacrificed ox of Dionusos. And Plato speaks of a lower grade of
Orphic priests, Orpheotelestai, "who used to come before the doors
of the rich, and promise, by sacrifices and expiatory songs, to
release them from their own sins, and those of their forefathers;"
and such would be but too likely to get a hearing from the man who
was afraid of a weasel or an owl.

Now, this same bodily fear, I verily believe, will be found at the
root of all superstition whatsoever.

But be it so. Fear is a natural passion, and a wholesome one.
Without the instinct of self-preservation, which causes the sea-
anemone to contract its tentacles, or the fish to dash into its
hover, species would be extermined wholesale by involuntary suicide.

Yes; fear is wholesome enough, like all other faculties, as long as
it is controlled by reason. But what if the fear be not rational,
but irrational? What if it be, in plain homely English, blind fear;
fear of the unknown, simply because it is unknown? Is it not
likely, then, to be afraid of the wrong object? to be hurtful,
ruinous to animals as well as to man? Any one will confess that,