ion,
the constant precariousness, the frightful proximity of death, that was
usual in these weak ancient communities. They were in fear of wild
beasts; they were helpless against floods, helpless against
pestilences. Their food depended on the crops of one tiny plot of
ground; and if the Saviour was not reborn with the spring, they slowly
and miserably died. And all the while they knew almost nothing of the
real causes that made crops succeed or fail. They only felt sure it was
somehow a matter of pollution, of unexpiated defilement. It is this
state of things that explains the curious cruelty of early agricultural
doings, the human sacrifices, the scapegoats, the tearing in pieces of
living animals, and perhaps of living men, the steeping of the fields in
blood. Like most cruelty it has its roots in terror, terror of the
breach of _Tabu_--the Forbidden Thing. I will not dwell on this side of
the picture: it is well enough known. But we have to remember that, like
so many morbid growths of the human mind, it has its sublime side. We
must not forget that the human victims were often volunteers. The
records of Carthage and Jerusalem, the long list in Greek legend of
princes and princesses who died for their country, tell the same story.
In most human societies, savage as well as civilized, it is not hard to
find men who are ready to endure death for their fellow-citizens. We
need not suppose that the martyrs were always the noblest of the human
race. They were sometimes mad--hysterical or megalomaniac: sometimes
reckless and desperate: sometimes, as in the curious case attested of
the Roman armies on the Danube, they were men of strong desires and weak
imagination ready to die at the end of a short period, if in the
meantime they might glut all their senses with unlimited
indulgence.[35:1]

Still, when all is said, there is nothing that stirs men's imagination
like the contemplation of martyrdom, and it is no wonder that the more
emotional cults of antiquity vibrate with the worship of this dying
Saviour, the Sosipolis, the Soter, who in so many forms dies with his
world or for his world, and rises again as the world rises, triumphant
through suffering over Death and the broken _Tabu_.

_Tabu_ is at first sight a far more prominent element in the primitive
religions than _Mana_, just as misfortune and crime are more highly
coloured and striking than prosperity and decent behaviour. To an early
Greek tribe the world of p