processes of nature are rigid and invariable in their operation, and that they can as little be turned from their course by persuasion
and entreaty as by threats and intimidation. The distinction between the two conflicting views of the universe turns on their answer
to the crucial question, Are the forces which govern the world conscious and personal, or unconscious and impersonal? Religion, as
a conciliation of the superhuman powers, assumes the former member of the alternative. For all conciliation implies that the being
conciliated is a conscious or personal agent, that his conduct is in some measure uncertain, and that he can be prevailed upon to vary
it in the desired direction by a judicious appeal to his interests, his appetites, or his emotions. Conciliation is never employed towards
things which are regarded as inanimate, nor towards persons whose behaviour in the particular circumstances is known to be deter-
mined with absolute certainty. Thus in so far as religion assumes the world to be directed by conscious agents who may be turned
from their purpose by persuasion, it stands in fundamental antagonism to magic as well as to science, both of which take for granted
that the course of nature is determined, not by the passions or caprice of personal beings, but by the operation of immutable laws
acting mechanically. In magic, indeed, the assumption is only implicit, but in science it is explicit. It is true that magic often deals with
spirits, which are personal agents of the kind assumed by religion; but whenever it does so in its proper form, it treats them exactly
in the same fashion as it treats inanimate agents, that is, it constrains or coerces instead of conciliating or propitiating them as reli-
gion would do. Thus it assumes that all personal beings, whether human or divine, are in the last resort subject to those impersonal
forces which control all things, but which nevertheless can be turned to account by any one who knows how to manipulate them by
the appropriate ceremonies and spells. In ancient Egypt, for example, the magicians claimed the power of compelling even the high-
est gods to do their bidding, and actually threatened them with destruction in case of disobedience. Sometimes, without going quite
so far as that, the wizard declared that he would scatter the bones of Osiris or reveal his sacred legend, if the god proved contuma-
cious. Similarly in India at the present day the great Hindoo trinity itself of Brahma, Vishnu, and Siva is subject to the sorcerers,
who, by means of their spells, exercise such an ascendency over the mightiest deities, that these are bound submissively to execute on
earth below, or in heaven above, whatever commands their masters the magicians may please to issue. There is a saying everywhere
current in India: "The whole universe is subject to the gods; the gods are subject to the spells (mantras); the spells to the Brahmans;
therefore the Brahmans are our gods."
This radical conflict of principle between magic and religion sufficiently explains the relentless hostility with which in history the priest has often pursued the magician. The haughty self-sufficiency of the magician, his arrogant demeanour towards the higher powers, and his unabashed claim to exercise a sway like theirs could not but revolt the priest, to whom, with his awful sense of the
divine majesty, and his humble prostration in presence of it, such claims and such a demeanour must have appeared an impious
and blasphemous usurpation of prerogatives that belong to God alone. And sometimes, we may suspect, lower motives concurred
to whet the edge of the priest's hostility. He professed to be the proper medium, the true intercessor between God and man, and
no doubt his interests as well as his feelings were often injured by a rival practitioner, who preached a surer and smoother road to
fortune than the rugged and slippery path of divine favour.
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Yet this antagonism, familiar as it is to us, seems to have made its appearance comparatively late in the history of religion. At an ear-
lier stage the functions of priest and sorcerer were often combined or, to speak perhaps more correctly, were not yet differentiated
from each other. To serve his purpose man wooed the goodwill of gods or spirits by prayer and sacrifice, while at the same time
he had recourse to ceremonies and forms of words which he hoped would of themselves bring about the desired result without the
help of god or devil. In short, he performed religious and magical rites simultaneously; he uttered prayers and incantations almost in
the same breath, knowing or recking little of the theoretical inconsistency of his behaviour, so long as by hook or crook he contrived
to get what he wanted. Instances of this fusion or confusion of magic with religion have already met us in the practices of Melanesi-
ans and of other peoples.
The same confusion of magic and religion has survived among peoples that have risen to higher levels of culture. It was rife in
ancient India and ancient Egypt; it is by no means extinct among European peasantry at the present day. With regard to ancient India
we are told by an eminent Sanscrit scholar that "the sacrificial ritual at the earliest period of which we have detailed information is
pervaded with practices that breathe the spirit of the most primitive magic." Speaking of the importance of magic in the East, and
especially in Egypt, Professor Maspero remarks that "we ought not to attach to the word magic the degrading idea which it almost
inevitably calls up in the mind of a modern. Ancient magic was the very foundation of religion. The faithful who desired to obtain
some favour from a god had no chance of succeeding except by laying hands on the deity, and this arrest could only be effected by
means of a certain number of rites, sacrifices, prayers, and chants, which the god himself had revealed, and which obliged him to do
what was demanded of him."
Among the ignorant classes of modern Europe the same confusion of ideas, the same mixture of religion and magic, crops up in
various forms. Thus we are told that in France "the majority of the peasants still believe that the priest possesses a secret and irresist-
ible power over the elements. By reciting certain prayers which he alone knows and has the right to utter, yet for the utterance of
which he must afterwards demand absolution, he can, on an occasion of pressing danger, arrest or reverse for a moment the action
of the eternal laws of the physical world. The winds, the storms, the hail, and the rain are at his command and obey his will. The
fire also is subject to him, and the flames of a conflagration are extinguished at his word." For example, French peasants used to be,
perhaps are still, persuaded that the priests could celebrate, with certain special rites, a Mass of the Holy Spirit, of which the efficacy
was so miraculous that it never met with any opposition from the divine will; God was forced to grant whatever was asked of Him
in this form, however