Chapter 2. Priestly Kings.
THE questions which we have set ourselves to answer are mainly two:
first, why had Diana's priest at Nemi, the King of the Wood, to slay his
predecessor? second, why before doing so had he to pluck the branch of
a certain tree which the public opinion of the ancients identified with
Virgil's Golden Bough? 1
The first point on which we fasten is the priest's title. Why was he
called the King of the Wood? Why was his office spoken of as a
kingdom? 2
The union of a royal title with priestly duties was common in ancient
Italy and Greece. At Rome and in other cities of Latium there was a
priest called the Sacrificial King or King of the Sacred Rites, and his
wife bore the title of Queen of the Sacred Rites. In republican Athens
the second annual magistrate of the state was called the King, and his
wife the Queen; the functions of both were religious. Many other Greek
democracies had titular kings, whose duties, so far as they are known,
seem to have been priestly, and to have centered round the Common Hearth
of the state. Some Greek states had several of these titular kings, who
held office simultaneously. At Rome the tradition was that the
Sacrificial King had been appointed after the abolition of the monarchy
in order to offer the sacrifices which before had been offered by the
kings. A similar view as to the origin of the priestly kings appears to
have prevailed in Greece. In itself the opinion is not improbable, and
it is borne out by the example of Sparta, almost the only purely Greek
state which retained the kingly form of government in historical times.
For in Sparta all state sacrifices were offered by the kings as
descendants of the god. One of the two Spartan kings held the priesthood
of Zeus Lacedaemon, the other the priesthood of Heavenly Zeus. 3
This combination of priestly functions with royal authority is
familiar to every one. Asia Minor, for example, was the seat of various
great religious capitals peopled by thousands of sacred slaves, and
ruled by pontiffs who wielded at once temporal and spiritual authority,
like the popes of mediaeval Rome. Such priest-ridden cities were Zela
and Pessinus. Teutonic kings, again, in the old heathen days seem to
have stood in the position, and to have exercised the powers, of high
priests. The Emperors of China offered public sacrifices, the details of
which were regulated by the ritual books. The King of Madagascar was
high-priest of the realm. At the great festival of the new year, when a
bullock was sacrificed for the good of the kingdom, the king stood over
the sacrifice to offer prayer and thanksgiving, while his attendants
slaughtered the animal. In the monarchical states which still maintain
their independence among the Gallas of Eastern Africa, the king
sacrifices on the mountain tops and regulates the immolation of human
victims; and the dim light of tradition reveals a similar union of
temporal and spiritual power, of royal and priestly duties, in the kings
of that delightful region of Central America whose ancient capital, now
buried under the rank growth of the tropical forest, is marked by the
stately and mysterious ruins of Palenque. 4
When we have said that the ancient kings were commonly priests also,
we are far from having exhausted the religious aspect of their office.
In those days the divinity that hedges a king was no empty form of
speech, but the expression of a sober belief. Kings were revered, in
many cases not merely as priests, that is, as intercessors between man
and god, but as themselves gods, able to bestow upon their subjects and
worshippers those blessings which are commonly supposed to be beyond the
reach of mortals, and are sought, if at all, only by prayer and
sacrifice offered to superhuman and invisible beings. Thus kings are
often expected to give rain and sunshine in due season, to make the
crops grow, and so on. Strange as this expectation appears to us, it is
quite of a piece with early modes of thought. A savage hardly conceives
the distinction commonly drawn by more advanced peoples between the
natural and the supernatural. To him the world is to a great extent
worked by supernatural agents, that is, by personal beings acting on
impulses and motives like his own, liable like him to be moved by
appeals to their pity, their hopes, and their fears. In a world so
conceived he sees no limit to his power of influencing the course of
nature to his own advantage. Prayers, promises, or threats may secure
him fine weather and an abundant crop from the gods; and if a god should
happen, as he sometimes believes, to become incarnate in his own person,
then he need appeal to no higher being; he, the savage, possesses in
himself all the powers necessary to further his own well-being and that
of his fellow-men. 5
This is one way in which the idea of a man-god is reached. But there
is another. Along with the view of the world as pervaded by spiritual
forces, savage man has a different, and probably still older, conception
in which we may detect a germ of the modern notion of natural law or the
view of nature as a series of events occurring in an invariable order
without the intervention of personal agency. The germ of which I speak
is involved in that sympathetic magic, as it may be called, which plays
a large part in most systems of superstition. In early society the king
is frequently a magician as well as a priest; indeed he appears to have
often attained to power by virtue of his supposed proficiency in the
black or white art. Hence in order to understand the evolution of the
kingship and the sacred character with which the office has commonly
been invested in the eyes of savage or barbarous peoples, it is
essential to have some acquaintance with the principles of magic and to
form some conception of the extraordinary hold which that ancient system
of superstition has had on the human mind in all ages and all countries.
Accordingly I propose to consider the subject in some detail. 6
