at the mysteries of the Orphic
priests; and finally, whenever he sees an epileptic patient, he spits in
his own bosom to avert the evil omen.

I have quoted, I believe, every fact given by Theophrastus; and you 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, who has ever seen a horse inflict on
himself mortal injuries, in his frantic attempts to escape from a quite
imaginary danger. I have good reasons for believing that not only
animals here and there, but whole flocks and swarms of them, are often
destroyed, even in the wild state, by mistaken fear; by such panics, for
instance, as cause a whole herd of buffalos to rush over a bluff, and be
dashed to pieces. And remark that this capacity of panic, fear--of
superstition, as I should call it--is greatest in those animals,