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-The Project Gutenberg eBook, Elements of Folk Psychology, by Wilhelm
-Wundt, Translated by Edward Leroy Schaub
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-Title: Elements of Folk Psychology
-       Outline of a Psychological History of the Development of Mankind
-
-
-Author: Wilhelm Wundt
-
-
-
-Release Date: November 8, 2013  [eBook #44138]
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-Language: English
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-***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ELEMENTS OF FOLK PSYCHOLOGY***
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-E-text prepared by Clare Graham, Heather Strickland, and Marc D'Hooghe
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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 44138 ***
 
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     World religions, 10, 477, 491, 494 ff.
     Writing, 486 f.
 
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+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 44138 ***
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-The Project Gutenberg eBook, Elements of Folk Psychology, by Wilhelm
-Wundt, Translated by Edward Leroy Schaub
-
-
-This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
-almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
-re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
-with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
-
-
-
-
-
-Title: Elements of Folk Psychology
-       Outline of a Psychological History of the Development of Mankind
-
-
-Author: Wilhelm Wundt
-
-
-
-Release Date: November 8, 2013  [eBook #44138]
-
-Language: English
-
-Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
-
-
-***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ELEMENTS OF FOLK PSYCHOLOGY***
-
-
-E-text prepared by Clare Graham, Heather Strickland, and Marc D'Hooghe
-(http://www.freeliterature.org) from page images generously made available
-by Internet Archive (https://archive.org)
-
-
-
-Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
-      file which includes the original illustrations.
-      See 44138-h.htm or 44138-h.zip:
-      (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/44138/44138-h/44138-h.htm)
-      or
-      (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/44138/44138-h.zip)
-
-
-      Images of the original pages are available through
-      Internet Archive. See
-      https://archive.org/details/elementsoffolkps010475mbp
-
-
-Transcriber's note:
-
-      Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_).
-
-      A carat character is used to denote superscription. A
-      single character following the carat is superscripted
-      (example: C^1).
-
-
-
-
-
-ELEMENTS OF FOLK PSYCHOLOGY
-
-Outlines of a Psychological History of the Development of Mankind
-
-by
-
-WILHELM WUNDT
-
-Authorized Translation by Edward Leroy Schaub, Ph.D.
-
-Professor of Philosophy in Northwestern University
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-London: George Allen & Unwin Ltd.
-New York: The Macmillan Company
-
-_First published: July 1916._
-_Revised edition: April 1921._
-
-
-
-
-TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE
-
-
-The keen interest which the present age is manifesting in problems
-connected with the interpretation of human experience is no less a
-result than it is a precondition of the fruitful labours of individual
-scholars. Prominent among these is the distinguished author of the
-volume which is herewith rendered accessible to English readers. The
-impetus which Professor Wundt has given to the philosophical and
-psychological studies of recent years is a matter of common knowledge.
-Many of those who are contributing richly to these fields of thought
-received their stimulus from instruction directly enjoyed in the
-laboratory and the classrooms of Leipzig. But even more than to Wundt,
-the teacher, is the world indebted to Wundt, the investigator and the
-writer. The number and comprehensiveness of this author's publications,
-as well as their range of subjects, are little short of amazing. To
-gauge the extent of their influence would require an examination of a
-large part of current philosophical and psychological literature. No
-small measure of this influence, however, must be credited to those
-whose labours have made possible the appearance of Wundt's writings
-in other tongues. Of the English translations, we owe the first to
-Professors Creighton and Titchener. Succeeding their translation of
-the "Lectures on Human and Animal Psychology," came the publication,
-in English, of the first volume of the "Principles of Physiological
-Psychology," of the two briefer treatises, "Outlines of Psychology" and
-"Introduction to Psychology," and, in the meantime, of the valuable
-work on "Ethics."
-
-Though Professor Wundt first won recognition through his investigations
-in physiology, it was his later and more valuable contributions to
-physiological psychology, as well as to logic, ethics, epistemology,
-and metaphysics, that gained for him his place of eminence in the world
-of scholarship. One may hazard the prophecy, however, that the final
-verdict of history will ascribe to his latest studies, those in folk
-psychology, a significance not inferior to that which is now generally
-conceded to the writings of his earlier years. The _Völkerpsychologie_
-is a truly monumental work. The analysis and interpretation of
-language, art, mythology, and religion, and the criticisms of rival
-theories and points of view, which occupy its five large volumes of
-over three thousand pages, are at once so judicial and so suggestive
-that they may not be neglected by any serious student of the social
-mind. The publication of the _Völkerpsychologie_ made necessary a
-number of defensive and supplementary articles. Two of these, in a
-somewhat revised form, together with an early article on "The Aim and
-Methods of Folk Psychology," and an additional essay on "Pragmatic
-and Genetic Psychology of Religion," were published in 1911 under
-the title, _Probleme der Völkerpsychologie_. Finally, in 1912, there
-appeared the book which we are now presenting in translation, the
-_Elemente der Völkerpsychologie_. As regards the difference in method
-and character between the _Elemente_ and the _Völkerpsychologie_,
-nothing need be added to what may be gleaned from the author's Preface
-and Introduction to this, his latest, work. Here, too, Professor
-Wundt indicates his conception of the nature and the problem of folk
-psychology, a fuller discussion of which may be found both in the
-_Völkerpsychologie_ and in the first essay of the _Probleme_.
-
-He who attempts to sketch the "Outlines of a Psychological History of
-the Development of Mankind" necessarily incurs a heavy indebtedness,
-as regards his material, to various more specialized sciences. The
-success with which the data have been sifted in the present instance
-and the extent to which the author has repaid the special sciences in
-terms of serviceable principles of interpretation, must, to a certain
-extent, be left to the determination of those who are engaged in these
-specific fields. Human beliefs and institutions, however, as well as
-all products of art and modes of labour, of food-getting, of marriage,
-of warfare, etc.--in short, all elements of human culture--even though
-subject to natural conditions of various sorts, are essentially mental
-processes or the expression of psychical activities. Hence no theory
-relating to these phenomena is acceptable, or even respectable,
-that does violence to well-established psychological principles.
-The unpsychological character of many of the hypotheses that still
-abound in ethnological, sociological, and historical literature, in
-itself renders necessary such discussions as those comprised within
-the present volume. One of the very valuable, even though not novel,
-features of the "Elements," therefore, is its clear exposure of the
-untenability of rationalistic and other similarly erroneous types of
-explanation.
-
-The dependence of folk psychology, as conceived by Professor Wundt,
-upon general psychology--or, in this particular case, upon the author's
-system of physiological psychology--will be apparent. It should not
-be overlooked, however, that the examination of the mental processes
-that underlie the various forms in which social experience comes to
-expression involves a procedure which supplements, in an important
-way, the traditional psychological methods. More than this. Wundt's
-_Völkerpsychologie_ is the result of a conviction that there are
-certain mental phenomena which may not be interpreted satisfactorily by
-any psychology which restricts itself to the standpoint of individual
-consciousness. Fundamental to the conclusions of the present volume,
-therefore, is the assumption of the reality of collective minds. For
-Professor Wundt, however, this assumption is not in the least of a
-dogmatic character. On the contrary, its acceptance is necessitated by
-the failure of opposing theories, and its validity is sustained by the
-fact that it renders intelligible a large and important body of facts.
-If this be admitted, it follows that folk psychology supplements not
-merely the methods of individual or physiological psychology, but also
-its principles and its laws. As yet, however, the prevailing tendency
-of psychologists, both in England and in America, is to retain the
-point of view of individual consciousness even when dealing with those
-phenomena which Wundt considers to be creations of the social group.
-That this occurs so frequently without any apparent thought of the
-necessity of justifying the procedure is--whether the position itself
-be right or wrong--an illustration of the barriers offered by a foreign
-language.
-
-For the general reader who professes no acquaintance with the nature or
-the viewpoint of psychological science, it may not be amiss to remark
-that the author aims, in this book, to present, not a discussion of
-the philosophical validity of ideas or of the ethical or religious
-value of customs and institutions, but merely a descriptive account
-of human development. The "Elements" is an attempt to answer the
-question as to what beliefs and practices actually prevailed at the
-various stages of human development and what psychological explanation
-may be given of them. Such an investigation is quite distinct from an
-inquiry as to whether these beliefs and practices are justifiable. It
-is equally foreign, moreover, to the question as to whether the ideas
-that are entertained may be held either to bring us into relation with
-trans-subjective realities or to acquaint us with a truth that is, in
-any significant sense, eternal. However sacred or profane, true or
-delusional, experiences may be to the philosopher, the theologian, or
-the man of practical affairs, to him who is psychologizing they all
-alike are mental phenomena demanding, not evaluation, but observation,
-analysis, and reduction to mental laws. Wundt explicitly emphasizes
-the fact that his psychological account neither represents nor renders
-unnecessary a philosophy of history; similarly, it may be added, the
-present work is neither the equivalent nor the negation of ethics,
-jurisprudence, theology, epistemology, or metaphysics. Nevertheless,
-while the distinctions which we have suggested should be strictly kept
-in mind, a just appreciation of the significance of such books as the
-"Elements" demands that we recognize their notable value to all the
-various philosophical disciplines. Works of this sort succeed above all
-others in stimulating and sustaining a keen empirical interest on the
-part of philosophy, and they supply the latter with a fund of carefully
-selected and psychologically interpreted facts. Doubtless it is in
-connection with ethics and the science of religion that these services
-are most obvious. Even the epistemologist, however, will find much
-that is suggestive in Wundt's account of the origin and development of
-language, the characteristics and content of primitive thought, and
-the relation of mythological and religious ideas to the affective and
-conative life. That the _Völkerpsychologie_ may contribute largely
-toward the solution of metaphysical problems has been strikingly
-demonstrated by Professor Royce in his profound volumes on "The Problem
-of Christianity."
-
-The trials of the translator have been recounted too often any longer
-to require detailed mention. President G. Stanley Hall has suggested
-that the German proclivity to the use of long, involved sentences,
-loaded with qualifying words and phrases, and with compounds and
-supplementary clauses of every description, may perhaps be said to
-have the merit of rendering language somewhat correspondent with the
-actual course of thought. The significance of this statement can be
-appreciated by no one quite so keenly as by a translator, for whom the
-very fact which President Hall mentions causes many German sentences to
-be objects of despair. In the present instance, the endeavour has been
-to reproduce as faithfully as possible both the meaning and the spirit
-of the original, while yet taking such liberties as seemed necessary
-either to clarify certain passages or to avoid any serious offence to
-the English language. In a number of cases, no absolutely satisfactory
-equivalent of the German term seemed available. The very expression
-'folk psychology,' for example, may scarcely be said to commend itself
-in every respect. Its use seemed unescapable, however, in view of
-the fact that the author, in his Introduction, expressly rejects the
-terms _Sozialpsychologie_ and _Gemeinschaftspsychologie_ in favour of
-_Völkerpsychologie. Bildende Kunst_ has been rendered 'formative art,'
-not in the belief that this translation is wholly unobjectionable, but
-because it seemed preferable to all possible alternatives, such as
-'plastic,' 'shaping,' or 'manual' art. Those who are familiar with, or
-who will take notice of, the very precise meaning which the present
-author gives to the terms _Märchen, Sage, Legende,_ and _Mythus_ will
-understand without explanation our frequent use of the word 'saga'
-and the necessity of the term 'märchen' in the translation. Wundt has
-always attached great significance to the distinctions which he has
-drawn between the various forms of the myth, and, more especially,
-to his contention that the earliest and, in a sense, the progenitor
-of these was the märchen. The crying need of exact definition and
-of clear thinking in a field so confused as that of mythology led
-him, on one occasion, to enter a plea for a clear-cut and consistent
-terminology such as that which he was attempting to maintain (_vide
-Völkerpsychologie, Band V, Zweiter Teil, Zweite Auflage, s._ 33). In
-this instance again, therefore, it seemed best to give to the author's
-own terms a preference over words which, while more familiar to the
-English reader, are less suited to convey the precise meaning intended.
-
-The most pleasant of the translator's duties consists in acknowledging
-the very material assistance which he has received from his wife, whose
-preparation of an enlarged index for this English edition is but the
-last of many services which she has rendered in connection with the
-present undertaking.
-
-
-EDWARD LEROY SCHAUB.
-
-
-NORTHWESTERN UNIVERSITY,
-
-EVANSTON, ILLINOIS,
-
-_October_ 1915.
-
-
-
-
-PREFACE
-
-
-This volume pursues a different method, in its treatment of the
-problems of folk psychology, from that employed in my more extensive
-treatment of the subject. Instead of considering successively the main
-forms of expression of the folk mind, the present work studies the
-phenomena, so far as possible, synchronously, exhibiting their common
-conditions and their reciprocal relations. Even while engaged on my
-earlier task I had become more and more convinced that a procedure of
-this latter sort was required as its supplement. Indeed, I believed
-that the chief purpose of investigations in folk psychology must
-be found in a synthetic survey. The first prerequisite of such a
-survey is, of course, a separate examination of each of the various
-fields. The history of the development of the physical organism aims
-to understand not merely the genesis of the particular organs but
-primarily their co-operation and the correlation of their functions. An
-analogous purpose should underlie an account of the mental development
-of any human community and, finally, of mankind itself. In addition to
-the problem of the relations of the separate processes to one another,
-however, we must in this case face also the broader question as to
-whether or not mental development is at all subject to law. This it
-is, therefore, that the sub-title of the present volume is intended to
-suggest. That we can be concerned only with outlines, moreover, and not
-with an exhaustive presentation of details, follows from the very fact
-that our aim is a synthetic survey. An exhaustive presentation would
-again involve us in a more or less detached investigation of single
-problems. A briefer exposition, on the other hand, which limits itself
-to arranging the main facts along lines suggested by the subject-matter
-as a whole, is, without doubt, better adapted both to present a clear
-picture of the development, and to indicate its general amenability to
-law, the presence of which even the diversity of events cannot conceal.
-
-This being my main purpose, I believed that I might at once reject
-the thought of giving the various facts a proportionate degree of
-attention. In the case of the better known phenomena, it appeared
-sufficient to sketch their place in the general development. That
-which was less familiar, however, or was still, perhaps, generally
-unknown, seemed to me to require a more detailed discussion. Hence the
-following pages deal at some length with the forms of original tribal
-organization and of the consummation of marriage, with soul, demon, and
-totem cults, and with various other phenomena of a somewhat primitive
-culture. On the other hand, they describe in barest outline the social
-movements that reach over into historical times, such as the founding
-of States and cities, the origin of legal systems, and the like. No
-inference, of course, should be drawn from this with regard to the
-relative importance of the phenomena themselves. Our procedure, in this
-matter, has been governed by practical considerations alone.
-
-The above remark concerning the less familiar and that which is as yet
-unknown, will already have indicated that folk psychology in general,
-and particularly a history of development in terms of folk psychology,
-such as this book aims to give, are as yet forced to rely largely
-on suppositions and hypotheses, if they are not to lose the thread
-that unites the details. Questions similar to the ones which we have
-just mentioned regarding the beginnings of human society, or others,
-which, though belonging to a later development, nevertheless still
-fall within the twilight dawn of history--such, for example, as those
-concerning the origin of gods and of religion, the development of myth,
-the sources and the transformations in meaning of the various forms
-of cult, etc.--are, of course, as yet largely matters of dispute. In
-cases of this sort, we are for the most part dealing not so much with
-facts themselves as with hypotheses designed to interpret facts. And
-yet it must not be forgotten that folk psychology rests on precisely
-the same experiential basis, as regards these matters, as do all other
-empirical sciences. Its position in this respect is similar, more
-particularly, to that of history, with which it frequently comes into
-touch in dealing with these problems of origin. The hypotheses of folk
-psychology never refer to a background of things or to origins that
-are by nature inaccessible to experiential knowledge; they are simply
-assumptions concerning a number of conjectured empirical facts that,
-for some reason or other, elude positive detection. When, for example,
-we assume that the god-idea resulted from a fusion of the hero ideal
-with the previously existing belief in demons, this is an hypothesis,
-since the direct transition of a demon into a god can nowhere be
-pointed out with absolute certainty. Nevertheless, the conjectured
-process moves on the factual plane from beginning to end. The same is
-true, not merely of many of the problems of folk psychology, but in
-the last analysis of almost all questions relating to the beginning
-of particular phenomena. In such cases, the result is seldom based on
-actually given data--these are inaccessible to direct observation,
-leaving psychological probability as our only guide. That is to say,
-we are driven to that hypothesis which is in greatest consonance with
-the sum total of the known facts of individual and of folk psychology.
-It is this empirical task, constituting a part of psychology and, at
-the same time, an application of it, that chiefly differentiates a
-psychological history of development, such as the following work aims
-briefly to present, from a philosophy of history. In my opinion, the
-basis of a philosophy of history should henceforth be a psychological
-history of development, though the latter should not intrude upon the
-particular problems of the former. The concluding remarks of our final
-chapter attempt, in a few sentences, to indicate this connection of a
-psychological history of development with a philosophy of historical
-development, as it appears from the point of view of the general
-relation of psychology to philosophical problems.
-
-
-W. WUNDT.
-
-LEIPZIG,
-
-_March_ 31, 1912.
-
-
-
-
-CONTENTS
-
-     TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE
-
-     PREFACE
-
-     INTRODUCTION History and task of folk psychology--Its relation
-     to ethnology--Analytic and synthetic methods of exposition--Folk
-     psychology as a psychological history of the development of
-     mankind--Division into four main periods.
-
-
-     CHAPTER I--PRIMITIVE MAN
-
-     1. THE DISCOVERY OF PRIMITIVE MAN Early philosophical
-     hypotheses--Prehistoric remains--Schweinfurth's discovery of the
-     Pygmies of the Upper Congo--The Negritos of the Philippines, the
-     inland tribes of Malacca, the Veddahs of Ceylon.
-
-     2. THE CULTURE OF PRIMITIVE MAN IN ITS EXTERNAL EXPRESSIONS Dress,
-     habitation, food, weapons--Discovery of bow and arrow--Acquisition
-     of fire--Relative significance of the concept 'primitive.'
-
-     3. THE ORIGIN OF MARRIAGE AND THE FAMILY Bachofen's "Mother-right"
-     and the hypothesis of an original promiscuity--Group-marriage and
-     the Malayan system of relationship--Erroneous interpretation of
-     these phenomena--Polygyny and polyandry--The monogamy of primitive
-     peoples.
-
-     4. PRIMITIVE SOCIETY The primitive horde--Its relation to the
-     animal herd--Single family and tribe--Lack of tribal organization.
-
-     5. THE BEGINNINGS OF LANGUAGE Languages of primitive tribes of
-     to-day--The gesture-language of the deaf and dumb, and of certain
-     peoples of nature--natural gesture-language--Its syntax--General
-     conclusions drawn from gesture-language.
-
-     6. THE THINKING OF PRIMITIVE MAN The Soudan languages as examples
-     of relatively primitive modes of thinking--The so-called 'roots'
-     as words--The concrete character of primitive thought--Lack of
-     grammatical categories--Primitive man's thinking perceptual.
-
-     7. EARLIEST BELIEFS IN MAGIC AND DEMONS Indefiniteness of the
-     concept 'religion'--Polytheistic and monotheistic theories of
-     the origin of religion--Conditions among the Pygmies--Belief
-     in magic and demons as the content of primitive thought--Death
-     and sickness--The corporeal soul--Dress and objects of personal
-     adornment as instruments of magic--The causality of magic.
-
-     8. THE BEGINNINGS OF ART The art of dancing among primitive
-     peoples--Its importance as a means of magic--Its accompaniment
-     by noise-instruments---The dance-song--The beginnings of
-     musical instruments--The bull-roarer and the rattle--Primitive
-     ornamentation--Relation between the imitation of objects and
-     simple geometrical drawings (conventionalization)--The painting of
-     the Bushmen--Its nature as a memorial art.
-
-     9. THE INTELLECTUAL AND MORAL CHARACTERISTICS OF PRIMITIVE
-     MAN Freedom from wants--Significance of isolation--Capacity
-     for observation and reflection--No inferiority as to original
-     endowment demonstrable--Negative nature of the morality of
-     primitive man--Dependence upon the environment.
-
-
-     CHAPTER II--THE TOTEMIC AGE
-
-     1. THE GENERAL CHARACTER OF TOTEMISM The word 'totem'--Its
-     significance for cult--Tribal organization and the institution of
-     chieftainship--Tribal wars--Tribal ownership of land--The rise of
-     hoe-culture and of the raising of domestic animals.
-
-     2. THE STAGES OF TOTEMIC CULTURE Australian culture--Its low level
-     of economic life--Its complicated tribal organization--Perfected
-     weapons--Malayo-Polynesian culture--The origin and migrations
-     of the Malays--Celestial elements in Malayo-Polynesian
-     mythology--The culture of the American Indians and its distinctive
-     features--Perfection of totemic tribal organization--Decline of
-     totem cults--African cultures--Increased importance of cattle
-     raising--Development of despotic forms of rulership--Survivals of
-     totemism in the Asiatic world.
-
-     3. TOTEMIC TRIBAL ORGANIZATION Similarity in the tribal
-     organizations of the Australians and the American Indians--Totem
-     groups as cult associations--Retrogression in America--The totem
-     animal as a coat of arms--The principle of dual division--Systems
-     consisting of two, four, and eight groups.
-
-     4. THE ORIGIN OF EXOGAMY Unlimited and limited exogamy--Direct
-     and indirect maternal or paternal descent--Effects upon
-     marriage between relatives--Hypotheses concerning the origin of
-     exogamy--Hygienic theory--Marriage by capture.
-
-     5. MODES OF CONTRACTING MARRIAGE Marriage by peaceful
-     capture within the same kinship group--Exogamous marriage by
-     barter--Marriage by purchase and marriage by contract--Survivals
-     of marriage by capture.
-
-     6. THE CAUSES OF TOTEMIC EXOGAMY Relation of clan division to
-     totem groups--Totem friendships--Parental and traditional totem
-     alliances--The rise of exogamy with direct and with indirect
-     maternal or paternal descent.
-
-     7. THE FORMS OF POLYGAMY Origin of group-marriage--Chief wife and
-     secondary wives--Polyandry and polygyny and their combination--The
-     prevalence and causes of these forms of marriage.
-
-     8. THE DEVELOPMENTAL FORMS OF TOTEMISM Two principles of
-     classification--Tribal and individual totemism--Conception
-     and sex totemism--Animal and plant totemism--Inanimate totems
-     (churingas)--Relation to ancestor worship and to fetishism.
-
-     9. THE ORIGIN OF TOTEMIC IDEAS Theories based on names--Spencer
-     and Lang--Frazer's theory of conception totemism as the origin of
-     totemism--The animal transformations of the breath soul--Relations
-     to soul belief--Soul animals as totem animals.
-
-     10. THE LAWS OF TABOO The concept 'taboo'--The taboo in Polynesia
-     --The taboo of mother-in-law and father-in-law--Connection with
-     couvade--The sacred and the impure--Rites of purification--Fire,
-     water, and magical transference.
-
-     11. SOUL BELIEFS OF THE TOTEMIC AGE The psyche as a breath and
-     shadow soul--Its relation to the corporeal soul--Chief bearers of
-     the corporeal soul--Modes of disposition of the dead.
-
-     12. THE ORIGIN OF THE FETISH Fetishes in totem cult--Attainment of
-     independence by fetishism--Fetishes as the earliest forms of the
-     divine image--Retrogressive development of cult objects--Fetish
-     cult as a cult of magic and demons--Amulet and talisman.
-
-     13. THE ANIMAL ANCESTOR AND THE HUMAN ANCESTOR The Mura-Mura
-     legends of the Australians--The animal ancestor--Transition to the
-     human ancestor--Relation to disposal of the corpse and to cults of
-     the dead--Surviving influences of totemism in ancestor cult.
-
-     14. THE TOTEMIC CULTS Customs relating to disposition of
-     the corpse and to sacrifices to the dead--Initiation into
-     manhood--Vegetation cults--Australian Intichiuma festivals--Cults
-     of the soil at the stage of hoe-culture--Underlying factor of
-     community of labour--Unification of cult purposes and their
-     combination with incipient deity cults.
-
-     15. THE ART OF THE TOTEMIC AGE Tatooing--Ceramics--Construction
-     of dwellings--Pole-houses--The ceremonial dance--Instruments of
-     concussion and wind Instruments--Cult-songs and work-songs--The
-     märchen-myth and its developmental forms.
-
-
-     CHAPTER III--THE AGE OF HEROES AND GODS
-
-     1. GENERAL CHARACTER OF THE HEROIC AGE Significance of the
-     individual personality--The hero an ideal human being, the god an
-     ideal hero--Changes in economic life and in society--The rise of
-     the State.
-
-     2. THE EXTERNAL CULTURE OF THE HEROIC AGE Folk migration and
-     the founding of States--Plough-culture--Breeding of domestic
-     animals--The wagon--The taming of cattle--The ox as a draught
-     animal--The production of milk--Relation of these achievements to
-     cult--Warfare and weapons--Rise of private property--Colonization
-     and trade.
-
-     3. THE DEVELOPMENT OF POLITICAL SOCIETY The place of the State
-     in the general development of society--The duodecimal and the
-     decimal systems in the organization of political society--The mark
-     community and military organization.
-
-     4. FAMILY ORGANIZATION WITHIN POLITICAL SOCIETY The joint
-     family--The patriarchal family--Paternal descent and paternal
-     dominance--Reappearance of the monogamous family.
-
-     5. THE DIFFERENTIATION OF CLASSES Common property and  private
-     property--The conquering race and the subjugated  population--
-     Distinction in rank and property--The influence of State and of
-     legal system.
-
-     6. THE DIFFERENTIATION OF VOCATIONS The priesthood as combining
-     class and vocation--Military and political activity--Agriculture
-     and the lower vocations---The gradual equalization of respect
-     accorded to vocations.
-
-     7. THE ORIGIN OF CITIES The original development of the
-     city--Castle and temple as the signs of a city--The guardian deity
-     of city and State--Secondary developments.
-
-     8. THE BEGINNINGS OF THE LEGAL SYSTEM Custom and law--Civil law as
-     the original province of law--Political and religious factors--The
-     council of elders and the chieftain--The arbitrator and the
-     appointed judge--The religious sanction of legal practices.
-
-     9. THE DEVELOPMENT OF PENAL LAW Blood revenge and its
-     replacement--Wergild--Right of sanctuary--Development of
-     imprisonment out of private custody of wrongdoer--The _Jus
-     Talionis_--Increase in complexity of rewards and punishments.
-
-     10. THE DIFFERENTIATION OF LEGAL FUNCTIONS Division of the
-     judicial function--Influence of social organization--Logical
-     classification of forms of the State lacking in genetic
-     significance--Development of constitutions out of history and
-     custom.
-
-     11. THE ORIGIN OF GODS Degeneration theories and developmental
-     theories--Hypotheses of an original monotheism or
-     polytheism--Theory based on nature-mythology--Demon theory of
-     Usener--Characteristics distinguishing the god from the demon and
-     the hero--The god as the result of a fusion of ideal hero and
-     demon.
-
-     12. THE HERO SAGA The hero of saga and the hero of märchen--The
-     purely mythical and the historical hero saga--Magic in märchen and
-     saga--The religious legend--The saint legend.
-
-     13. COSMOGONIC AND THEOGONIC MYTHS The gods as demoniacal
-     beings--Their struggle with the demons of earliest times--Myths of
-     creation--Sagas of flood and of universal conflagration--Myths of
-     world-destruction.
-
-     14. THE BELIEF IN SOULS AND IN A WORLD BEYOND Sequence of
-     ideas of the beyond--The spirit-village--The islands of
-     the blessed--Myths of the underworld--Distinction between
-     dwelling-places of souls--Elysium--The underworld and the
-     celestial regions--Purgatory--Cults of the beyond--The conception
-     of salvation--Transmigration of souls.
-
-     15. THE ORIGIN OF DEITY CULTS Relation of myth and cult--Religious
-     significance of cult--Vegetation cults--Union of cult
-     purposes--Mystery cults.
-
-     16. THE FORMS OF CULT PRACTICES Prayer--Conjuration and the prayer
-     of petition--Prayer of thanksgiving--Praise--The penitential
-     psalm--Sacrifice--Purpose of sacrifice originally magical--Jewish
-     peace-offering and sin-offering--Development of conception
-     of gift--Connection between value and sacrifice--Votive and
-     consecration gifts--Sacrifice of the first fruits--Sanctification
-     ceremonies--Means of lustration as means of sanctification--Water
-     and fire--Baptism and circumcision--Magical sanctification--Human
-     sacrifice as a means of sanctification.
-
-     17. THE ART OF THE HEROIC AGE Temple and palace--The human
-     figure as the subject of formative art--Art as generic and as
-     individualizing--The appreciation of the significant--Expression
-     of subjective mood in landscape painting--The epic--Its influence
-     upon the cult-song--The drama--Music as an accessory and as an
-     independent art.
-
-     CHAPTER IV--THE DEVELOPMENT TO HUMANITY
-
-     1. THE CONCEPT 'HUMANITY' Herder's idea of humanity as the goal of
-     history--The concepts 'mankind' and 'human nature'--Humanity as a
-     value-concept--The idea of a cultural community of mankind and its
-     developmental forms.
-
-     2. WORLD EMPIRES The empires of Egypt and of Western Asia--The
-     monarch as ruler of the world--The ruler as deity--Apotheosis
-     of deceased rulers--Underlying cause of formation of
-     empires--Disappearance of world empires from history.
-
-     3. WORLD CULTURE The world dominion of Alexander--Greek
-     as the universal language--Writing and speech as factors
-     of culture--Travel as symptomatic of culture--Hellenistic
-     world culture and its results--The culture of the
-     Renaissance--Cosmopolitanism and individualism.
-
-     4. WORLD RELIGIONS Unity of the world of gods--Cult of Æsculapius
-     and cults of the beyond--Their transition into redemption
-     cults--Buddhism and Christianity--Development of the idea of a
-     superpersonal deity--The incarnate god as the representative of
-     this deity--Three aspects of the concept 'representative.'
-
-     5. WORLD HISTORY Twofold significance of the concept
-     'history'--History as self-conscious experience--The rôle of
-     will in history--Prehistoric and historic periods--Influence of
-     world culture and world religions on the rise of the historical
-     consciousness--The philosophy of history--Its relation to a
-     psychological history of the development of mankind.
-
-
-     INDEX
-
-
-
-
-ELEMENTS OF FOLK PSYCHOLOGY
-
-
-
-
-INTRODUCTION
-
-
-The word '_Völkerpsychologie_'(folk psychology) is a new compound in
-our [the German] language. It dates back scarcely farther than to about
-the middle of the nineteenth century. In the literature of this period,
-however, it appeared with two essentially different meanings. On the
-one hand, the term 'folk psychology' was applied to investigations
-concerning the relations which the intellectual, moral, and other
-mental characteristics of peoples sustain to one another, as well as
-to studies concerning the influence of these characteristics upon the
-spirit of politics, art, and literature. The aim of this work was a
-characterization of peoples, and its greatest emphasis was placed on
-those cultural peoples whose civilization is of particular importance
-to us--the French, English, Germans, Americans, etc. These were the
-questions of folk psychology that claimed attention during that period,
-particularly, to which literary history has given the name "young
-Germany." The clever essays of Karl Hillebrand on _Zeiten, Völker und
-Menschen_ (collected in eight volumes, 1885 ff.) are a good recent
-example of this sort of investigation. We may say at the outset that
-the present work follows a radically different direction from that
-pursued by these first studies in folk psychology.
-
-Practically coincident with the appearance of these earliest studies,
-however, was a radically different use of the term 'folk psychology.'
-The mental sciences began to realize the need of a psychological
-basis; where a serviceable psychology did not exist, they felt it
-necessary to establish an independent psychological foundation for
-their work. It was particularly in connection with the problems of
-philology and mythology, and at about the middle of the century, that
-the idea gradually arose of combining into a unified whole the various
-results concerning the mental development of man as severally viewed
-by language, religion, and custom. A philosopher and a philologist,
-Lazarus and Steinthal, may claim credit for the service of having
-introduced the term 'folk psychology' to designate this new field of
-knowledge. All phenomena with which mental sciences deal are, indeed,
-creations of the social community. Language, for example, is not the
-accidental discovery of an individual; it is the product of peoples,
-and, generally speaking, there are as many different languages as there
-are originally distinct peoples. The same is true of the beginnings of
-art, of mythology, and of custom. The natural religions, as they were
-at one time called, such as the religions of Greece, Rome, and the
-Germanic peoples, are, in truth, folk religions; each of them is the
-possession of a folk community, not, of course, in all details, but in
-general outline. To us this fact has come to appear somewhat strange,
-because in our age these universal mental creations have already long
-transcended the limits of a single people. Though this is true, it does
-not imply that the folk community is not really the original source
-of these mental creations. Now, in the works of Lazarus and Steinthal
-and in the _Zeitschrift für Völkerpsychologie und Sprachwissenschaft_
-edited by them and appearing in twenty volumes from 1860 on, the
-conception had not as yet, it is true, received the precise definition
-that we must give it to-day. Nevertheless, a beginning was made, and
-the new venture was successfully launched along several different
-lines. Some uncertainty still prevailed, especially with regard to the
-relation of these studies to philosophy, and as to the method which
-psychology must follow when thus carried over into a new field. It was
-only gradually, as the psychological point of view gained ground in the
-special fields of research, that this condition was improved. To-day,
-doubtless, folk psychology may be regarded as a branch of psychology
-concerning whose justification and problem there can no longer be
-dispute. Its problem relates to those mental products which are created
-by a community of human life and are, therefore, inexplicable in
-terms merely of individual consciousness, since they presuppose the
-reciprocal action of many. This will be for us the criterion of that
-which belongs to the consideration of folk psychology. A language can
-never be created by an individual. True, individuals have invented
-Esperanto and other artificial languages. Unless, however, language
-had already existed, these inventions would have been impossible.
-Moreover, none of these languages has been able to maintain itself,
-and most of them owe their existence solely to elements borrowed from
-natural languages. How, again, could a religion have been created by
-an individual? There have, indeed, been religions whose founders were
-individual men: for example, Christianity, Buddhism, and Islamism. But
-all these religions rest on earlier foundations; they are elaborations
-of religious motives arising within particular folk communities.
-Thus, then, in the analysis of the higher mental processes, folk
-psychology is an indispensable supplement to the psychology of
-individual consciousness. Indeed, in the case of some questions the
-latter already finds itself obliged to fall back on the principles
-of folk psychology. Nevertheless, it must not be forgotten that just
-as there can be no folk community apart from individuals who enter
-into reciprocal relations within it, so also does folk psychology, in
-turn, presuppose individual psychology, or, as it is usually called,
-general psychology. The former, however, is an important supplement to
-the latter, providing principles for the interpretation of the more
-complicated processes of individual consciousness. It is true that the
-attempt has frequently been made to investigate the complex functions
-of thought on the basis of mere introspection. These attempts,
-however, have always been unsuccessful. Individual consciousness is
-wholly incapable of giving us a history of the development of human
-thought, for it is conditioned by an earlier history concerning which
-it cannot of itself give us any knowledge. For this reason we must
-also reject the notion that child psychology can solve these ultimate
-problems of psychogenesis. Among cultural peoples, the child is
-surrounded by influences inseparable from the processes that arise
-spontaneously within its own consciousness. Folk psychology, however,
-in its investigation of the various stages of mental development still
-exhibited by mankind, leads us along the path of a true psychogenesis.
-It reveals well-defined primitive conditions, with transitions leading
-through an almost continuous series of intermediate steps to the more
-developed and higher civilizations. Thus, folk psychology is, in an
-important sense of the word, _genetic psychology_.
-
-In view of the general nature of the task of the science, objection
-has sometimes been raised to its being called folk psychology. For,
-the study is concerned, not merely with peoples but also with more
-restricted, as well as with more comprehensive, social groups. Family,
-group, tribe, and local community, for example, are more restricted
-associations; on the other hand, it is to the union and reciprocal
-activity of a number of peoples that the highest mental values and
-attainments owe their origin, so that, in this case, folk psychology
-really becomes a psychology of mankind. But it is self-evident that, if
-it is not to fade into indefiniteness, a term such as 'folk psychology'
-must be formulated with reference to the most important conception
-with which it has to deal. Moreover, scarcely any of the proposed
-emendations are practicable. '_Gemeinschaftspsychologie_' (community
-psychology) may easily give rise to the misconception that we are
-concerned primarily with such communities as differ from the folk
-community; _Sozialpsychologie_ (social psychology) at once reminds us
-of modern sociology, which, even in its psychological phases, usually
-deals exclusively with questions of modern cultural life. In an account
-of the total development of mental life, however--and this is the
-decisive consideration--the 'folk' is the most important collective
-concept and the one with which all others are associated. The 'folk'
-embraces families, classes, clans, and groups. These various
-communities are not excluded from the concept 'folk,' but are included
-within it. The term 'folk psychology' singles out precisely the folk
-as the decisive factor underlying the fundamental creations of the
-community.
-
-When this point of view is taken, the question, of course, arises
-whether the problem thus assigned to folk psychology is not already
-being solved by ethnology, the science of peoples, or whether it ought
-not to be so solved. But it must be borne in mind that the greatly
-enlarged scope of modern ethnology, together with the increased
-number and the deepened character of its problems, necessarily
-precludes such a psychological investigation as falls to the task of
-folk psychology. I may here be allowed to refer to one who, perhaps
-more than any other recent geographer, has called attention to this
-extension of ethnological problems--Friedrich Ratzel. In his treatise
-on anthropography and in a number of scattered essays on the cultural
-creations of peoples, Ratzel has shown that ethnology must not only
-account for the characteristics and the habitats of peoples, but
-must also investigate how peoples originated and how they attained
-their present physical and mental status. Ethnology is the science
-of the origin of peoples, of their characteristics, and of their
-distribution over the earth. In this set of problems, psychological
-traits receive a relatively subordinate place. Apparently insignificant
-art products and their modifications may be of high importance in the
-determination of former migrations, fusions, or transferences. It is
-in this way that ethnology has been of valuable service to history,
-particularly in connection with prehistoric man. The central problem
-of ethnology concerns not only the present condition of peoples, but
-the way in which they originated, changed, and became differentiated.
-Folk psychology must be based on the results of ethnology; its own
-psychological interest, however, inclines it to the problem of mental
-development. Though of diverse origins, peoples may nevertheless
-belong to the same group as regards the mental level to which they
-have attained. Conversely, peoples who are ethnologically related
-may, psychologically speaking, represent very different stages of
-mental culture. The ethnologist, for example, regards the Magyars and
-the Ostiaks of Obi as peoples of like origin. Psychologically, they
-belong to different groups: the one is a cultural people, the other
-is still relatively primitive. To the folk psychologist, however,
-'primitive' always means the psychologically primitive--not that which
-the ethnologist regards as original from the point of view of the
-genealogy of peoples. Thus, folk psychology draws upon ethnology, while
-the latter, in turn, must invoke the aid of the former in investigating
-mental characteristics. The problems of the two sciences, however, are
-fundamentally different.
-
-In fulfilling its task, folk psychology may pursue different
-methods. The course that first suggests itself is to single out one
-important phenomenon of community life after another, and to trace
-its development after the usual pattern of general psychology in its
-analysis of individual consciousness. For example, an attempt is made
-to trace the psychological development of language by the aid of the
-facts of linguistic history. This psychology of language is then
-followed by a study of the development of art, from its beginnings
-among primitive races down to its early manifestations among cultural
-peoples, at which point its description is taken up by the history
-of art. Myth and religion are similarly investigated as regards the
-development of their characteristics, their reciprocal relations, etc.
-This is a method which considers in longitudinal sections, as it were,
-the total course of the development described by folk psychology.
-For a somewhat intensive analysis this is the most direct mode of
-procedure. But it has the objection of severing mental development into
-a number of separate phases, whereas in reality these are in constant
-interrelation. Indeed, the various mental expressions, particularly
-in their earlier stages, are so intertwined that they are scarcely
-separable from one another. Language is influenced by myth, art is
-a factor in myth development, and customs and usages are everywhere
-sustained by mythological conceptions.
-
-But there is also a second path of investigation, and it is this
-which the present work adopts. It consists--to retain the image used
-above--in taking transverse instead of longitudinal sections, that
-is, in regarding the main stages of the development with which folk
-psychology is concerned in their sequence, and each in the total
-interconnection of its phenomena. Our first task, then, would be
-the investigation of _primitive man_. We must seek a psychological
-explanation of the thought, belief, and action of primitive man on
-the basis of the facts supplied by ethnology. As we proceed to more
-advanced stages, difficulties may, of course, arise with regard to
-the delimitation of the various periods; indeed, it will scarcely be
-possible to avoid a certain arbitrariness, inasmuch as the processes
-are continuous. The life of the individual person also does not fall
-into sharply distinct periods. Just as childhood, youth, and manhood
-are stages in a continuous growth, so also are the various eras in the
-development of peoples. Yet there are certain ideas, emotions, and
-springs of action about which the various phenomena group themselves.
-It is these that we must single out if the content of folk psychology
-is to be classified, with any measure of satisfaction, according to
-periods. Moreover, it should be particularly noticed that, in starting
-our discussion with primitive man, as we naturally must, the term
-'primitive' is to be taken relatively, as representing the lowest
-grade of culture, particularly of mental culture. There is no specific
-ethnological characteristic that distinguishes this primitive stage
-from those that are more advanced; it is only by reference to a number
-of psychological traits, such as are indicative of the typically
-original, that we may determine that which is primitive. Bearing in
-mind this fact, we must first describe the external traits of primitive
-culture, and then consider the psychological factors of primitive life.
-
-Of the second period in the development of civilization, we may
-safely say that in many respects it represents a newly discovered
-world. Historical accounts have nothing, to say concerning it. Recent
-ethnology alone has disclosed the phenomena here in question, having
-come upon them in widely different parts of the earth. This period
-we will call the _totemic age_. The very name indicates that we are
-concerned with the discovery of a submerged world. The word 'totem,'
-borrowed from a distant American tongue, proves by its very origin
-that our own cultural languages of Europe do not possess any word
-even approximately adequate to designate the peculiar character of
-this period. If we would define the concept of totemism as briefly
-as possible, it might perhaps be said to represent a circle of ideas
-within which the relation of animal to man is the reverse of that
-which obtains in present-day culture. In the totemic age, man does not
-have dominion over the animal, but the animal rules man. Its deeds
-and activities arouse wonder, fear, and adoration. The souls of the
-dead dwell within it; it thus becomes the ancestor of man. Its flesh
-is prohibited to the members of the group called by its name, or,
-conversely, on ceremonial occasions, the eating of the totem-animal
-may become a sanctifying cult activity. No less does the totemic idea
-affect the organization of society, tribal division, and the forms
-of marriage and family. Yet the elements that reach over from the
-thought-world of this period into later times are but scanty fragments.
-Such, for example, are the sacred animals of the Babylonians,
-Egyptians, and other ancient cultural peoples, the prophetic
-significance attached to the qualities or acts of animals, and other
-magical ideas connected with particular animals.
-
-Totemic culture is succeeded--through gradual transitions--by a _third_
-period, which we will call the _age of heroes and gods_. Initial steps
-towards the latter were already taken during the preceding period,
-in the development of a rulership of individuals within the tribal
-organization. This rulership, at first only temporary in character,
-gradually becomes permanent. The position of the chieftain, which
-was of only minor importance in the totemic age, gains in power when
-the tribal community, under the pressure of struggles with hostile
-tribes, assumes a military organization. Society thus develops into the
-_State_. War, as also the guidance of the State in times of peace,
-calls out men who tower far above the stature of the old chieftains,
-and who, at the same time, are sharply distinguished from one another
-through qualities that stamp them as typical personalities. In place of
-the eldest of the clan and the tribal chieftain of the totemic period,
-this new age gives rise to the _hero_. The totemic age possesses
-only fabulous narratives; these are credited myths dealing, not
-infrequently, with animal ancestors who have introduced fire, taught
-the preparation of food, etc. The hero who is exalted as a leader in
-war belongs to a different world, a world faithfully mirrored in the
-heroic song or epic. As regards their station in life, the heroes of
-Homer are still essentially tribal chieftains, but the enlarged field
-of struggle, together with the magnified characteristics which it
-develops, exalt the leader into a hero. With the development of poetry,
-the forms of language also become modified and enriched. The epic is
-followed by formative and dramatic art. All this is at the same time
-closely bound up with the origin of the State, which now displaces
-the more primitive tribal institutions of the preceding period. When
-this occurs, different customs and cults emerge. With national heroes
-and with States, national religions come into being; and, since these
-religions no longer direct the attention merely to the immediate
-environment, to the animal and plant world, but focus it primarily upon
-the heavens, there is developed the idea of a higher and more perfect
-world. As the hero is the ideal man, so the god becomes the ideal hero,
-and the celestial world, the ideally magnified terrestrial world.
-
-This era of heroes and gods is finally succeeded by a _fourth_
-period. A national State and a national religion do not represent the
-permanent limits of human striving. National affiliations broaden into
-humanistic associations. Thus there begins a development in which we
-of the present still participate; it cannot, therefore, be referred to
-otherwise than as an age that is coming to be. We may speak merely of
-an advance _toward_ humanity, not of a development _of_ humanity. This
-advance, however, begins immediately with the fall of the barriers
-that divide peoples, particularly with regard to their religious
-views. For this reason, it is particularly the transcendence of the
-more restricted folk circle on the part of religions that constitutes
-one of the most significant events of mental history. The national
-religions--or, as they are generally, though misleadingly, called, the
-natural religions--of the great peoples of antiquity begin to pass
-beyond their original bounds and to become religions of humanity.
-There are three such world religions--Christianity, Islamism, and
-Buddhism--each of them adapted in character and history to a particular
-part of mankind. This appears most clearly in the contrast between
-Christianity and Buddhism, similar as they are in their endeavour to
-be world religions. The striving to become a world religion, however,
-is also a symptomatic mental phenomenon, paralleled externally by the
-extension of national States beyond the original limits set for them
-by the tribal unit. Corresponding to this expansion, we find those
-reciprocal influences of cultural peoples in economic life, as well as
-in custom, art, and science, which give to human society its composite
-character, representing a combination of national with universally
-human elements. Hellenism and the Roman Empire afford the first and,
-for Occidental mental development, the most important manifestations of
-these phenomena. How immense is the chasm between the secret barter of
-primitive man who steals out of the primeval forest by night and lays
-down his captured game to exchange it, unseen by his neighbours, for
-implements and objects of adornment, and the commerce of an age when
-fleets traverse the seas, and eventually ships course through the air,
-uniting the peoples of all parts of the world into one great commercial
-community! We cannot undertake to delineate all aspects of this
-development, for the latter includes the entire history of mankind.
-Our concern is merely to indicate the outstanding psychological
-factors fundamental to the progression of the later from that which
-was original, of the more perfect from the primitive, partly under the
-pressure of external conditions of life and partly as a result of man's
-own creative power.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER I
-
-PRIMITIVE MAN
-
-
-1. THE DISCOVERY OF PRIMITIVE MAN.
-
-
-Who is the primitive man? Where is he to be found? What are his
-characteristics? These are the important questions which here at
-once confront us. But they are questions to which, strangely enough,
-the answer has, up to very recent times, been sought, not in the
-facts of experience, history, or ethnology, but purely by the path
-of speculation. At the outset the search was not, for the most part,
-based on investigations of primitive culture itself, but took as
-its starting-point contemporary culture and present-day man. It was
-primarily by means of an abstract opposition of culture to nature
-that philosophy, and even anthropology, constructed natural man. The
-endeavour was not to find or to observe, but to _invent_ him. It was
-simply by antithesis to cultural man that the image of natural man took
-shape; the latter is one who lacks all the attainments of culture.
-This is the negative criterion by means of which the philosophy of the
-Enlightenment, with its conceited estimate of cultural achievements,
-formed its idea of primitive man. Primitive man is the savage; the
-savage, however, is essentially an animal equipped with a few human
-qualities, with language and a fragment of reason just sufficient to
-enable him to advance beyond his deplorable condition. Man in his
-natural state, says Thomas Hobbes, is toward man as a wolf. He lives
-with his fellow-beings as an animal among animals, in a struggle for
-survival. It is the contrast of wild nature with peaceful culture,
-of ordered State with unorganized herd or horde, that underlies this
-conception.
-
-But this antithesis between the concepts of culture and of nature,
-as objectively considered, is not the only factor here operative;
-even more influential is the contrast between the subjective moods
-aroused by the actual world and by the realm disclosed by imagination
-or reason. Hence it is that the repelling picture of primitive man is
-modified as soon as the mood changes. To an age that is satiated with
-culture and feels the traditional forms of life to be a burdensome
-constraint, the state of nature becomes an ideal once realized in a
-bygone world. In contrast to the wild creature of Thomas Hobbes and his
-contemporaries, we have the natural man of Jean Jacques Rousseau. The
-state of nature is a state of peace, where men, united in love, lead a
-life that is unfettered and free from want.
-
-Alongside of these constructions of the character of natural man,
-however, there early appeared a different method of investigation,
-whose aim it was to adhere more closely to empirical facts. Why should
-we not regard those of our human institutions which still appear to be
-a direct result of natural conditions as having existed in the earliest
-period of our race? Marriage and the family, for example, are among
-such permanent cultural institutions, the one as the natural union of
-the sexes, the other as its necessary result. If marriage and family
-existed from the beginning, then all culture has grown out of the
-extension of these primitive associations. The family first developed
-into the patriarchal joint family; from this the village community
-arose, and then, through the union of several village communities, the
-State. The theory of a natural development of society from the family
-was first elaborated by Aristotle, but it goes back in its fundamental
-idea to legend and myth. Peoples frequently trace their origin to an
-original pair of ancestors. From a single marriage union is derived the
-single tribe, and then, through a further extension of this idea, the
-whole of mankind. The legend of an original ancestral pair, however, is
-not to be found beyond the limits of the monogamous family. Thus, it
-is apparently a projection of monogamous marriage into the past, into
-the beginnings of a race, a tribe, or of mankind. Wherever, therefore,
-monogamous marriage is not firmly established, legend accounts for the
-origin of men and peoples in various other ways. It thinks of them as
-coming forth from stones, from the earth, or from caverns; it regards
-animals as their ancestors, etc. Even the Greek legend of Deukalion and
-Pyrrha contains a survival of such an earlier view, combined with the
-legend of an original ancestral pair. Deukalion and Pyrrha throw stones
-behind them, from which there springs a new race of men.
-
-The thought of an original family, thus, represents simply a projection
-of the present-day family into an inaccessible past. Clearly,
-therefore, it is to be regarded as only an hypothesis or, rather,
-a fiction. Without the support which it received from the Biblical
-legend, it could scarcely have maintained itself almost down to the
-present, as it did in the patriarchal theory of the original state
-of man to which it gave rise. The Aristotelian theory of the gradual
-origin of more comprehensive organizations, terminating in the State,
-is no less a fiction; the social communities existing side by side in
-the period of Greece were arbitrarily represented as having emerged
-successively in the course of history. Quite naturally, therefore, this
-philosophical hypothesis, in common with the corresponding legend of
-the original family, presupposes primitive man to have possessed the
-same characteristics as the man of to-day. Thus, it gives no answer at
-all to the question concerning the nature of this primitive man.
-
-When, therefore, modern anthropology made the first attempt to answer
-this question on the basis of empirical facts, it was but natural to
-assume that the characteristics of original man were not to be learned
-from a study of existing peoples, nor, indeed, from history, but that
-the data for the solution of the problem were of a _prehistoric_
-nature, to be found particularly in those human remains and those
-products of man's activity that have been preserved in the strata of
-the earth's crust. What we no longer find _on_ the earth, so it was
-held, we must seek _under_ the earth. And thus, about six decades
-ago, _prehistoric anthropology_ began to gather material, and this
-has gradually grown to a considerable bulk. Upon the completion of
-this task, however, it appeared, as might, of course, have been
-expected, that psychology could gain but little in this way. The only
-source from which it might derive information lay in the exhumed
-objects of art. Then, however, the very disappointing discovery was
-made that, as regards implements of stone, drawings on the walls of
-caves which he inhabited, and pictures cut into horn or bone, the
-artistic achievements of the man of diluvial times did not differ
-essentially from those of the present-day savage. In so far as physical
-characteristics are concerned, however, the discovered remains of
-bones seemed to point to certain differences. While these differences,
-of course, were incapable of establishing any direct psychological
-conclusions, the fact that the measurements of the skeletal parts
-more closely resembled those of animals, and, in particular, that the
-measurements of the interior of the skull were smaller than those of
-the savages of our own time, offered indirect evidence of a lower
-development. Because of the close relation of cranial capacity to size
-of brain, moreover, a lower degree of intelligence was also indicated.
-Nevertheless, the remains that have been brought to light have not
-as yet led to any indubitable conclusions. There have been fairly
-numerous discoveries pointing to races that resemble the lower tribes
-among contemporary peoples, and but a few cases in which uncertainty
-is possible, and concerning which, therefore, there exists a conflict
-of opinions. A typical instance is the history of one of the first
-discoveries made in Europe of the remains of a prehistoric man. It was
-in 1856, in German territory, that there was discovered, in a grotto or
-cave in the Neander valley, near Duesseldorf, a very remarkable skull,
-though only, of course, the bones of the cranium and not the facial
-bones. All were at once agreed that these were the remains of a very
-primitive man. This was indicated particularly by characteristics which
-are still to be found, though scarcely in so pronounced a form, among
-certain lower races of men. Of special significance were the strongly
-developed, prominent bone-elevations above the eye-sockets. Some of the
-investigators believed that the long-sought '_homo primigenius_' had
-perhaps at last been discovered. It was generally agreed that the form
-of the skull resembled most closely that of the modern Australian. In
-more recent years, however, anthropologists have developed somewhat
-more exact methods of measurement and of the reconstruction of a
-skeleton from parts only incompletely given. When Hermann Klaatsch,
-equipped with this knowledge, carried out such a reconstruction of the
-Neanderthal skull, he came upon the surprising fact that its capacity
-was somewhat greater than that of the present-day Australian. Little
-as this tells us concerning the actual intelligence of these primitive
-men, it nevertheless clearly indicates how uncertain the conclusions
-of prehistoric anthropology still are. A number of other recent
-discoveries in Germany, France, and elsewhere, have proved that several
-prehistoric races of men once lived in Europe. Some of these, no doubt,
-date back far beyond the last glacial period, and perhaps even beyond
-the period preceding this, for we now know that several glacial periods
-here succeeded one another. Nevertheless, no important divergencies
-from still existent races of men have been found. This, of course,
-does not imply that no differences exist; it means merely that none
-has as yet been positively detected, and that therefore the anatomy of
-prehistoric man can give us no information concerning the psychological
-aspect of the question regarding the nature of primitive man.
-
-Considerably more light is thrown on this question when we examine the
-products of human activity, such as implements, weapons, and works of
-art. Traces of man, in the form of objects hammered out of flint and
-shaped into clubs, chisels, knives, and daggers, capable of serving
-as implements of daily use no less than as weapons, are to be found
-as far back as the first diluvian epoch, and, in their crudest forms,
-perhaps even as early as the tertiary period. The more polished
-objects of similar form belong to a later age. Still more remarkable
-are the works of art--in particular, the cave pictures of prehistoric
-animals, such as the cave bear and the mammoth. Nevertheless, none of
-these achievements is of such a nature as to afford positive evidence
-of a culture essentially different from, or lower than, that of the
-primitive man of to-day. Two outstanding facts, especially, make a
-comparison difficult. On the one hand, wood plays an important rôle
-in the life of modern primitive man, being used for the construction
-of tools, weapons, and, in part, also of baskets and vessels. But the
-utensils of wood that may have existed in prehistoric times could not
-have withstood the destructive forces of decomposition and decay. All
-such utensils, therefore, that prehistoric man may have possessed have
-been lost. Thus, for example, it will be difficult ever to ascertain
-whether or not he was familiar with the bow and arrow, since the arrow,
-as well as the bow, was originally made of wood. Secondly, there is at
-the present time no primitive tribe, however much shut off from its
-more remote environment, into which barter, which is nowhere entirely
-absent, may not introduce some objects representing a higher form of
-civilization, particularly metals and metal implements. If, however, we
-bear in mind that, in the one case, products have suffered destruction
-and that, in the other, articles have been introduced from without, the
-impression made by prehistoric utensils and products of art--aside from
-certain doubtful remains dating back beyond the diluvial epoch--is not
-essentially different from that made by the analogous products of the
-Negritos of the Philippines or the inland tribes of Ceylon. Though the
-material of which the implements are constructed differs, the knives,
-hammers, and axes in both instances possess the usual form. Thus, the
-wooden knife which the Veddah of Ceylon still carves out of bamboo
-is formed precisely like some of the stone knives of the diluvial
-period. We find a similar correspondence when we examine the traces of
-dwellings and decorations that have been preserved, as well as certain
-remains that throw light upon customs. The oldest prehistoric people
-of Europe dwelt in caves, just as the primitive man of the tropics
-does to-day in the rainy season. In a rock cavern near Le Moustier,
-in France, there was discovered a skeleton whose crouching position
-points to a mode of burial still prevalent among primitive peoples,
-and one which is doubtless always a fairly positive indication of a
-belief in demons such as arises in connection with the impression
-made by death. The dead person is bound in the position that will
-best prevent his return. Thus, all these prehistoric remains suggest
-a culture similar to that of primitive tribes of to-day. But, just
-because they reveal conditions not essentially different from those
-of the present, these remains make another important contribution to
-our knowledge of primitive man. They indicate the great stability of
-primitive culture in general, and render it probable that, unless there
-are special conditions making for change, such as migrations and racial
-fusions, the stability increases in proportion to the antiquity. Though
-this may at first glance seem surprising, it becomes intelligible
-when we consider that isolation from his surroundings is an important
-characteristic of primitive man. Having very little contact with other
-peoples, he is in no wise impelled to change the modes of action to
-which his environment has led him from immemorial times.
-
-Thus, the correspondence of the prehistoric with that which is
-to-day primitive indicates a high degree of permanence on the part
-of primitive culture. But, even apart from this consideration, it is
-apparent that we must really seek primitive man in the inhabited world
-of the present, since it is here alone that we can gain a relatively
-accurate knowledge of his characteristics. Our information concerning
-primitive man, therefore, must be derived from ethnology. We must not
-seek him _under_ the earth, but _on_ the earth. Just where, however,
-is he to be found? For decades the natives of Australia were believed
-to represent a perfect example of primitive culture. And, as a matter
-of fact, their material culture and some of their mythological
-ideas still seem to be of a very primitive character. Because of
-the conjecture that it was here dealing with a relatively primitive
-type of man, modern anthropology has for two decades applied itself
-with great partiality to the study of Australian tribes. English and
-German investigators have given us many works, some of them excellent,
-treating of the continent of Australia, which appears almost as unique
-with respect to its population as in its flora and its fauna. From
-these investigations, however, which are reported particularly in
-the volume by Howitt published in 1900, in the works of Spencer and
-Gillen, and, finally, in those of Strehlow, a German missionary, it
-is apparent that the Australian culture is anything but primitive: it
-represents, rather, a stage of development already somewhat advanced.
-In certain respects, indeed, it may contain very primitive elements,
-such as are not to be found even among tribes that are, on the whole,
-on a lower level. Australian culture, however, possesses an enormously
-complex social organization, and this places it above that which may
-be called primitive. In its present form, it presupposes a development
-of probably thousands of years. Assuredly, therefore, the Australian
-should not be included in a chapter on primitive man. He will rather
-claim our attention in the next chapter, as a well-defined type of
-the totemic age. Indeed, he is beginning, in part, to lose even the
-characteristics of this age, mainly, no doubt as a result of racial
-fusion, whose influence is here also in evidence.
-
-Although the races of Australia are unquestionably not primitive, as
-was formerly believed and is still held in certain quarters, there are
-other parts of the earth which, in all probability, really harbour
-men who are primitive in that relative sense of the term which alone,
-of course, we are justified in using. If one were to connect the
-discovery of this primitive man with any single name, the honour would
-belong to a German traveller and investigator, George Schweinfurth.
-He was the first to discover a really primitive tribe--that is, one
-which remained practically untouched by external cultural influences.
-When Schweinfurth, sailing up the Upper Nile in 1870, listened to the
-narratives of the Nubian sailors in charge of his boat, he repeatedly
-heard accounts of a nation of dwarfs, of people two feet tall (so the
-exaggerated reports went), living in the impenetrable forests beyond
-the great lakes which constitute the source of the Nile. Schweinfurth
-was at once reminded of the old legends regarding pygmies. Such legends
-are mentioned even by Homer and are introduced also into the writings
-of Herodotus and of Aristotle. Aristotle, indeed, expressly says that
-these dwarf peoples of Central Africa exist in reality, and not merely
-in tales. When Schweinfurth arrived in the country of the Monbuttus,
-he was actually fortunate enough to gain sight of these pygmies. It is
-true, they did not exactly correspond to the fantastic descriptions
-of the sailors--descriptions such as are current here and there even
-to-day. The sailors represented the pygmies as having long beards,
-reaching to the earth, and gigantic heads; in short, they imputed to
-them the characteristics of the dwarf gnome, who appears also in German
-folk-lore. In reality, it was found that the pygmies are, indeed,
-small--far below the average normal size of man--but that they are of
-excellent proportions, have small heads, and almost beardless faces.
-
-Subsequent to Schweinfurth's discovery, similar tribes were found in
-various parts of the earth. Emin Pasha, together with his companion
-Stuhlmann, had the good fortune to be able to observe the pygmies of
-the Congo more closely even than had been possible for Schweinfurth. In
-the Negritos of the Philippines a similar dwarf people was discovered.
-They also are of small stature, and, according to their own belief
-and that of the neighbouring Malays, are the original inhabitants of
-their forests. Besides these, there are the inland tribes of the Malay
-Peninsula, the Semangs and Senoi, and, finally, the Veddahs of Ceylon,
-studied particularly by the cousins Paul and Fritz Sarasin. All of the
-peoples just mentioned live in forests and have probably been isolated
-from civilization for thousands of years. The Bushmen of South Africa,
-of whom we have long known, also belong to this group, although they
-have not to the same extent been free from the influence of surrounding
-peoples. In all these cases we have to do with tribes which at one time
-probably occupied wider territories, but which have now been crowded
-back into the forest or wilderness. In addition to these tribes,
-furthermore, there are remnants of peoples in Hindustan, in Celebes,
-Sumatra, the Sunda Islands, etc. Concerning these, however, we as yet
-have little knowledge. In some respects, doubtless, the inhabitants of
-the Andaman Islands should also be here included, although they cannot,
-on the whole, be regarded as primitive in the strict sense of the word.
-This is precluded by their external culture, and especially by their
-legends, the latter of which point to the influence of Asiatic culture.
-
-Observations of these relatively most primitive tribes--and this is
-especially worth noting---show them to be remarkably similar. If we
-read a description of the characteristics, habits, and customs of
-the Negritos of the Philippines and then pass on to the Malaccans,
-to the Semangs and Senoi, or, further, to the Veddahs of Ceylon,
-we constantly meet with almost the same phenomena, there being but
-slight differences depending on the specific character of the natural
-environment. We are thus in possession of data that are now observable.
-The statements and conclusions which these enable us to make are more
-than mere speculations with regard to the past; and they are more than
-inferences drawn from the silent fragments of the bones and from a
-few of the art products of primitive man. According as the phenomena
-are simpler in character and require fewer antecedent conditions for
-their explanation, may we be confident that we are really dealing with
-primitive conditions. This in itself implies that the criteria of
-primitive culture are essentially _psychological_ in nature, and that
-racial characteristics and original tribal relationships are probably
-negligible so far as this question is concerned. A culture would be
-absolutely primitive if no antecedent mental development whatsoever
-could be presupposed. Such an absolute concept can never be realized
-in experience, here any more than elsewhere. We shall, therefore,
-call that man primitive in the relative sense of the term--our only
-remaining alternative--whose culture approximates most nearly to
-the lowest mental achievements conceivable within the limits of
-universal human characteristics. The most convenient measure of these
-achievements, and the one lying nearest at hand, is that afforded by
-_external_ culture, as expressed in dress, habitation, and food, in
-self-made implements, weapons, and other productions serving to satisfy
-the most urgent needs of life.
-
-
-
-2. THE CULTURE OF PRIMITIVE MAN IN ITS EXTERNAL EXPRESSIONS.
-
-
-Following the above-mentioned criteria as to what may be regarded as
-primitive, the question concerning the external culture of primitive
-man may, in general, be briefly answered. Of dress there are only
-meagre beginnings: about the loins a cord of bast, to which twigs
-of trees are attached to cover the genitals--that is generally all,
-unless, through secret barter with neighbouring peoples, cotton
-goods, leather, and the like, have been imported. As regards personal
-decoration, conditions are much the same. On the next stage of
-development, the totemic, there is, as we shall later see, a desire for
-lavish decoration, especially as regards the adornment of the body by
-painting and tatooing. Little of this, however, is to be found among
-primitive tribes, and that which exists has probably been introduced
-from without. Some examples of such decoration are the scanty tatooing
-in single lines, the painting of the face with several red and white
-dots, and the wooden plug bored through the bridge of the nose. The
-Negritos of the Philippines bore holes through their lips for the
-insertion of a row of blades of grass. Other decorations found are
-necklaces and bracelets, fillets, combs, hair ornaments made of twigs
-and flowers, and the like.
-
-What is true of his dress holds also of the dwelling of primitive man.
-Everything indicates that the first permanent dwelling was the cave.
-Natural caves in the hillsides, or, less frequently, artificially
-constructed hollows in the sand, are the places of refuge that
-primitive man seeks when the rainy season of the tropics drives him
-to shelter. During the dry season, no shelter at all is necessary; he
-makes his bed under a tree, or climbs the tree to gain protection from
-wild animals. Only in the open country, under the compulsion of wind
-and rain, does he construct a wind-break of branches and leaves after
-the pattern supplied by nature in the leafy shelter of the forest. When
-the supports of this screen are inclined toward one another and set up
-in a circle, the result is the original hut.
-
-Closely connected with the real dwelling of primitive man, the cave,
-are two further phenomena that date back to earliest culture. As his
-constant companion, primitive man has a single animal, the _dog_,
-doubtless the earliest of domestic animals. Of all domestic animals
-this is the one that has remained most faithful to man down to the
-present time. The inhabitant of the modern city still keeps a dog
-if he owns any domestic animal at all, and as early as primitive
-times the dog was man's faithful companion. The origin of this first
-domestic animal remains obscure. The popular notion would seem to be
-that man felt the need of such a companion, and therefore domesticated
-the dog. But if one calls to mind the dogs that run wild in the
-streets of Constantinople, or the dog's nearest relative, the wolf,
-one can scarcely believe that men ever had a strong desire to make
-friends of these animals. According to another widely current view,
-it was man's need of the dog as a helper in the chase that led to its
-domestication. But this also is one of those rationalistic hypotheses
-based on the presupposition that man always acts in accordance with a
-preconceived plan, and thus knew in advance that the dog would prove a
-superior domestic animal, and one especially adapted to assist in the
-chase. Since the dog possessed these characteristics only after its
-domestication, they could not have been known until this had occurred,
-and the hypothesis is clearly untenable. How, then, did the dog and
-man come together in the earliest beginnings of society? The answer
-to this question, I believe, is to be found in the cave, the original
-place of shelter from rain and storm. Not only was the cave a refuge
-for man, but it was equally so for animals, and especially for the
-dog. Thus it brought its dwellers into companionship. Furthermore, the
-kindling of the fire, once man had learned the art, may have attracted
-the animal to its warmth. After the dog had thus become the companion
-of man, it accompanied him in his activities, including that of the
-chase. Here, of course, the nature of the carnivorous animal asserted
-itself; as man hunted, so also did the animal. The dog's training,
-therefore, did not at all consist in being taught to chase the game.
-It did this of itself, as may be observed in the case of dogs that
-are not specifically hunting dogs. The training consisted rather in
-breaking the dog of the habit of devouring the captured game. This was
-accomplished only through a consciously directed effort on the part of
-man, an effort to which he was driven by his own needs. Thus, it is
-the cave that accounts for the origin of the first domestic animal,
-and also, probably, for the first attempt at training an animal. But
-there is still another gain for the beginnings of culture that may
-probably be attributed to the cave in its capacity of a permanent
-habitation. Among primitive peoples, some of whom are already advanced
-beyond the level here in question, it is especially in caves that
-artistic productions may be found. These consist of crude drawings of
-animals and, less frequently, of men. Among the Bushmen, such cave
-pictures are frequently preserved from destruction for a considerable
-period of time. Natural man, roaming at will through the forests, has
-neither time nor opportunity to exercise his imagination except upon
-relatively small objects or upon the adornment of his own body. But the
-semi-darkness of the cave tends, as do few other places, to stimulate
-the reproductive imagination. Undisturbed by external influences, and
-with brightnesses and colours enhanced by the darkness, the memory
-images of things seen in the open, particularly those of the animals
-of the primeval forest, rise to consciousness and impel the lonely and
-unoccupied inhabitant to project them upon the wall. Such activity is
-favoured by the fact, verifiable by personal introspection, that memory
-images are much more vivid in darkness and semi-darkness than in the
-light of day. Thus, it was in the cave, the first dwelling-place of
-man, that the transition was made, perhaps for the first time, from
-the beginnings of a graphic art, serving the purposes of adornment or
-magic, to an art unfettered except by memory. It was an art of memory
-in a twofold sense: it patterned its objects after the memory of things
-actually observed, and it sought to preserve to memory that which it
-created.
-
-From the consideration of dress and habitation we turn to that of
-food. Primitive man was not bound to fixed hours for his meals.
-Among civilized peoples, so close a connection has grown up between
-meals and definite hours of the day that the German word for meal,
-_Mahlzeit_, reminds us of this regularity by twice repeating the word
-for time---for _Mahl_ also means time. Primitive man knew nothing of
-the sort. If he found food and was hungry, he ate; if he found none, he
-went hungry. Sometimes, moreover, in order to provide for the future,
-he gorged to such an extent as to injure his health. As concerns the
-food itself, there is an old theory which has led to misconceptions
-concerning primitive man. He was a hunter, we are told; the chase
-supplied him with food; only incidentally and occasionally did he
-enjoy parts of plants or fruits that he had gathered or accidentally
-discovered. It is scarcely correct, however, to assume that systematic
-hunting was practised by primitive man. Doubtless he did engage in this
-occupation. Yet this furnished him with only an incidental part of his
-food supply--apart with which, living as he did from hand to mouth, he
-satisfied only his momentary needs. It was with plant food, if at all,
-that he made provision for the future. Here may be found also the first
-traces of a division of labour: woman gathered the plant food--roots,
-bulbs, and berries--while man occasionally found it necessary to hunt.
-Plant food being capable of longer preservation, it was woman who
-first learned to economize and to make provision for the future. In
-part, indeed, the influence of these cultural beginnings persists even
-to-day. Moreover, just as mixed food, part plant and part animal, is by
-far the most common to-day, so also was it the original diet of man.
-The proportion, however, varied more than in later times, according as
-the external conditions of life were propitious or otherwise. Of this
-the Bushmen afford a striking illustration. Fifty years ago they were
-still by preference huntsmen. Armed with their bows, they dared to
-hunt the elephant and the giraffe. But after the surrounding peoples
-of South Africa--the Hottentots, Betschuans, and Herero--came into the
-possession of firearms, which the Bushman scornfully rejects, the game
-was, in part, exterminated, and to-day the Bushmen, crowded back into
-rocky wastes, derive but a small part of their living from the chase.
-They gather bulbs, roots, and other parts of plants, such as can be
-rendered edible by boiling or roasting. Their animal food, moreover, is
-no longer wild game, but consists, for the most part, of small animals
-found while gathering the plant food--frogs, lizards, worms, and even
-insects. Hunting, therefore, was never more than one of the customary
-means of providing food; and primitive man, especially, was a gatherer
-rather than a hunter. The word 'gatherer' implies also that he took
-from nature only what it directly offered, and that he was familiar
-neither with agriculture nor with the raising of animals. In procuring
-his food, moreover, he was aided by a knowledge, often surprising, of
-the properties of the objects gathered. This knowledge, probably gained
-as a result of many disastrous experiences in his search for food,
-enabled primitive man to utilize even such roots and fruits as are not
-wholesome in their raw state, either because they are not edible until
-prepared by means of fire, or because they are poisonous. Primitive man
-learned to overcome the injurious effects of many of these plants.
-By reducing them to small pieces, washing them in a solution of lye,
-and heating them, he converted them into palatable food. The bulbs and
-roots were secured from beneath the surface of the ground by means of
-the most primitive of all agricultural implements and the progenitor of
-all succeeding ones, the _digging-stick_. This is a wooden stick, with
-a pointed end that has been hardened by fire.
-
-Connected with the removal of poison, by means of water and fire, from
-parts of plants that are otherwise edible, is still another primitive
-discovery--the utilization of the poisons themselves. Only when the
-arrow is smeared with plant poisons does the bow become a real weapon.
-In itself the arrow wound is not sufficient to kill either game or
-enemy; the arrow must be poisoned if the wound is to cause death
-or even temporary disability. The Veddahs and the inland tribes of
-Malacca therefore use the juice of the upas-tree mixed with that of
-strychnos-trees. The best known of these arrow poisons, curare, used in
-South America and especially in Guiana, is likewise prepared from the
-juice of strychnos-trees.
-
-This brings us to the _weapons_ of primitive man. In this connection it
-is highly important to note that all of the primitive peoples mentioned
-above are familiar with the use of bow and arrow, but we must also
-bear in mind that this is practically their only weapon. Contrary to
-what archæological excavations would suggest concerning the earliest
-age of peoples, primitive culture, in respect to implements and
-weapons, depended only to a small extent upon the working of stone. We
-might better speak of this period as an age of wood. Wood is not only
-decidedly easier to manipulate than stone, but it is always more easily
-obtainable in shapes suitable for constructive purposes. Possibly even
-the arrow-head was originally always made of wood, as it sometimes is
-even to-day. Only in later times was the wood replaced by a sharpened
-stone or by iron acquired through barter.
-
-It is not difficult to see how wood, in the forms which it possesses
-by nature, came to be fashioned into clubs, axes, and digging-sticks,
-and how bones, horns, shells, and the like were converted into tools
-and objects of adornment. But how did primitive man acquire _bow and
-arrow_? The general belief seems to be that this weapon was invented
-by some resourceful mind of an early age. But an inventor, in the
-proper sense of the word, must know in advance what he wishes to
-invent. The man, therefore, who constructed the bow and arrow for the
-first time must already have had some previous idea of it. To effect
-a combination of existing implements, or to improve them in useful
-ways, is a comparatively easy matter. But no one can manufacture
-implements if he possesses nothing over and above material that is in
-itself somehow suitable for the purpose. The most primitive implements,
-therefore, such as the digging-stick, the club, and the hammer, are
-all products of nature, at most changed slightly by man as their
-use requires. But this is obviously not true of bow and arrow. We
-may, perhaps, find a suggestion for the solution of our problem in a
-hunting weapon which, though belonging, of course, to the later totemic
-culture, is in principle simpler than the bow and arrow--the boomerang
-of the Australians. The word is probably familiar to all, but the
-nature of the weapon is not so well known, especially its peculiarly
-characteristic form by virtue of which, if it fails to strike its
-object, it flies back to the one who hurled it. The boomerang, which
-possesses this useful characteristic, is, in the first place, a bent
-wooden missile, pointed at both ends. That this curved form has a
-greater range and strikes truer to aim than a straight spear, the
-Australian, of course, first learned from experience. The boomerang,
-however, will not return if it is very symmetrically constructed; on
-the contrary, it then falls to the ground, where it remains. Now it
-appears that the two halves of this missile are asymmetrical. One of
-the halves is twisted spirally, so that the weapon, if thrown forward
-obliquely, will, in accordance with the laws of ballistics, describe
-a curve that returns upon itself. This asymmetry, likewise, was
-discovered accidentally. In this case, the discovery was all the more
-likely, for primitive weapons were never fashioned with exactitude.
-That this asymmetry serves a useful purpose, therefore, was first
-revealed by experience. As a result, however, primitive man began to
-copy as faithfully as possible those implements which most perfectly
-exhibited this characteristic. Thus, this missile is not a weapon that
-required exceptional inventive ability, though, of course, it demanded
-certain powers of observation. The characteristics, accordingly, that
-insured the survival of the boomerang were discovered accidentally
-and then fixed through an attentive regard to those qualities that
-had once been found advantageous. Now, can we conceive of the origin
-of bow and arrow in an analogous way? Surely this weapon also was not
-devised in all its parts at a single time. The man of nature, pressing
-his way through the dense underbrush of the forest and experiencing
-in person the hard blows of branches that he has bent back, gains a
-lively impression of the elastic power of bent wood. How easily the
-attention is forced to the observation that this effect increases when
-the wood is bent out of its natural shape, appears strikingly in the
-case of a kind of bow found in Asia and the Asiatic islands. The bow
-is here constructed out of a piece of wood bent by nature, not in such
-a way, however, that the natural curve of the wood forms the curve
-of the bow, but contrariwise. Thus arises a _reflexive_ bow, whose
-elastic power is, of course, considerably increased. In order that such
-a bow may be bent back more easily, some people of a more advanced
-culture construct it out of several layers of wood, horn, sinew, or
-the like. Having first observed the powerful impulsive force which a
-rod gains through being bent, it was a simple matter to render this
-force permanently available by bending the rod back and binding its
-ends together with a cord of bast, or, if bamboo was used, with strips
-torn from the bamboo itself. Thus originated the common form of the
-bow. Next, it was, of course, easy to observe that the bowstring thus
-contrived would communicate a powerful impetus to a lighter piece of
-wood placed against it. In addition to the bow, we then have the arrow,
-which is hurled into the distance by the combined propelling power
-of the bow and its string. But at this point a new factor appeared,
-clearly indicating that several motives generally co-operated in the
-case of such so-called primitive inventions. In these inventions nature
-itself played no less a part than did the inventive genius of the
-individual. The arrow but rarely consists merely of a piece of wood one
-of whose ends is somehow pointed or provided with a stone head, or, at
-a later period, with an iron head. As is well known, the other end is
-feathered, either with genuine bird feathers or, as in the case of the
-pygmies of Central Africa, with an imitation of bird feathers made of
-palm-leaves. The feathers are usually supposed to have been added to
-insure the accurate flight of the arrow. And this accuracy is, indeed,
-the resultant effect. As in the case of the boomerang, however, we must
-again raise the question: How did man come to foresee this effect,
-of whose mechanical conditions he had, of course, not the slightest
-knowledge? The solution of this problem probably lies in the fact of an
-association of the discharged arrow with a flying bird that pierces the
-air by the movement of its feathers. Thus, in the arrow, man copied the
-mode of movement of the bird. He certainly did not copy it, however,
-with the thought that he was causing movement in a mechanical way. We
-must bear in mind that for primitive man the image of a thing is in
-reality always equivalent to the thing itself. Just as he believes
-that his spirit resides in his picture, with the result that he is
-frequently seized with fright when a painter draws his likeness and
-carries it away with him, so also does the feathered arrow become for
-him a bird. In his opinion, the qualities of the bird are transferred
-by force of magic to the arrow. In this case, indeed, the magical
-motive is in harmony with the mechanical effect.
-
-Nature directly supplies primitive man not only with the patterns of
-his implements and weapons, but also with those of the _vessels_ which
-he uses. Of the primitive tribes none is familiar, at the outset,
-with pottery. In its stead, suitable natural objects are utilized for
-storing what is gathered. The Negritos of the Philippines, for example,
-employ coconut shells. The inland tribes of the Malay Peninsula use
-bamboo, whose varying thicknesses, and, particularly, whose internodes
-enable it to be converted into the desired vessels by cutting the
-stem at the upper end of an internode and immediately below it, thus
-securing a vessel with a bottom. Wherever primitive peoples cut vessels
-out of wood, as occurs among the Veddahs and the Bushmen, we may be
-sure that this represents a comparatively late acquirement, following
-upon a knowledge of metals and the use of stone implements. Primitive
-man possesses no vessels for cooking purposes. He prepares his food
-directly in the fire or in hot ashes.
-
-We are now confronted by a final and an especially interesting
-question of primitive culture, that of the _acquisition of fire_. This
-acquisition made a deep impression on the human mind, and one whose
-effects long survived in legend. The totemic age, as we shall see,
-is replete with legends of beneficent animals which brought fire to
-man. In the heroic age, the fire-bringing animal is displaced by the
-fire-bringing hero. We may call to mind Prometheus, who brought fire
-from heaven, and by so doing drew upon himself the vengeance of the
-gods. Nevertheless, the question concerning the original production
-of fire is a very simple one. As in the case of very many utensils
-and tools, we must look to natural conditions that present themselves
-in the course of experience. Man did not invent the art of kindling
-fire; it would be nearer the truth to say that he found it, inasmuch
-as he discovered it while making his utensils. In this connection,
-particularly, it is highly important to note that the first age, if we
-would designate it by its tools, was not an age of stone but an age of
-wood. We have already referred to the way in which bamboo was worked
-up into vessels for the storing of fruits and liquids. With a sharp
-sliver of bamboo, a bamboo-stem is sawed into pieces in order that its
-parts may be utilized. If this sawing occurs during dry weather, the
-wood is pulverized and the heated sawdust finally becomes ignited. As
-soon as it begins to glow, the worker blows upon it and the fire flames
-up. This mode of kindling fire has been called that of _sawing_, and
-is probably the oldest in origin. After fire was thus accidentally
-produced, it became possible to kindle it at will, and this developed
-into a skilful art. At a later stage, however, there came the further
-need of drilling holes into wood. This gave rise to a second method of
-kindling fire, that of drilling. A piece of wood is bored through with
-a sharpened stick of hard wood, and the same results occur as in the
-case of the sawing. The method of drilling is the more effective; it
-produces fire more quickly. Nevertheless, both methods are laborious
-and tedious, and we cannot blame the savage for regarding as a magician
-the European who before his very eyes lights a match by friction.
-Because of the difficulty in producing fire, its preservation plays
-an important rôle in the life of the savage. When he changes his
-dwelling-place, his first consideration, as a rule, is to take with him
-some live fire so that he will not be obliged to kindle it anew.
-
-In conclusion, we may supplement these sketches of external culture
-by mention of a feature that is particularly characteristic of the
-relation of primitive man to his environment. Primitive man lives in
-close association with his fellow-tribesmen, but he secludes himself
-from other tribes of the neighbourhood. He is led to do so because they
-threaten his means of subsistence; indeed, he himself may fall a prey
-to them, as do the Pygmies of Central Africa to the anthropophagic
-customs of the Monbuttus. And yet, primitive man early feels the need
-of such useful articles as he cannot himself produce but with which
-he has, in some accidental manner, become acquainted. This gives rise
-to what is generally called 'secret barter.' An illuminating example
-of this occurs in the records of the Sarasin cousins as relating to
-the Veddahs. The Veddah goes by night to the house of a neighbouring
-Singhalese smith and there deposits what he has to offer in barter,
-such as captured game, ivory, etc. With this he places a representation
-of an arrow-head, made of palm-leaves. The next night he returns and
-finds real arrows of iron which the smith has laid out in exchange for
-the proffered goods. It might be thought that such a system of barter
-would imply an excessive measure of confidence. The smith, however,
-knows that, should he take away that which was brought to him without
-delivering the arrows, he would himself be struck by an arrow shot from
-some sheltered ambush. Thus, many things, especially iron, materials
-for clothing, and articles of adornment, come into the possession of
-primitive man through secret barter, raising his external culture to a
-somewhat higher level.
-
-A retrospective survey of this culture brings to notice especially
-the fact that the concept 'primitive' is never valid, as applied to
-man, except in a _relative_ sense. Of an absolutely primitive man we
-know nothing at all. Moreover, the knowledge of such a being could
-hardly render explicable his further development, since he would
-really belong to the animal level and therefore to the prehuman
-stage of existence. Primitive man is _relatively_ primitive, for,
-while he does possess certain beginnings of culture, these are in no
-respect more than mere beginnings, all of which are borrowed from
-nature and from the direct means of assistance which it offers. It
-is precisely these elementary acquisitions, however, that already
-differentiate primitive man from the animal. He has the beginnings of
-a dwelling and of dress, even though he does no more in either case
-than merely to utilize the means which nature offers, or than partly
-to imitate and partly to combine these means, as he does in the case
-of the leafy wind-break and of the weapons which doubtless represent
-the highest achievement of this age--namely, the bow and arrow. But
-these are all beginnings which already contain within themselves the
-possibilities of higher achievements. The development of the hut out
-of the wind-break, of the lance out of the staff and the arrow, of
-the woven basket out of the coconut or the gourd, severally represent
-easy steps in the advance from nature to culture. Next there comes
-the preparation of food by means of fire. This is closely connected
-with the discovery of the art of kindling fire, which, in its turn,
-was partly an accidental discovery connected with the manufacture of
-primitive tools out of wood and partly a real invention. Thus, the
-manufacture of tools, on the one hand, and the kindling of fire, which
-was connected with it, on the other, are the two primary features
-which from early times on distinguished primitive man from animals.
-Furthermore, there is the bow and arrow, which is the first real weapon
-and differs markedly from all other implements. Its construction also
-was dependent upon the assistance of nature. The fact that this was
-the only weapon of primitive society throws an important light on the
-nature of the latter. The bow and arrow continued to be used for a
-long time afterwards--indeed, even down to the appearance of firearms;
-it served not only as a weapon of warfare but also as an implement
-for hunting. With it alone, however, no organized strife or warfare
-of any sort is possible. While, therefore, it is true that the archer
-appears on the earliest monuments of cultural peoples, it is only
-as the fellow-combatant of the warrior who is armed with shield and
-lance. With lance and shield it is possible to fight in closed ranks.
-The archer must fight single-handed. Primitive man, therefore, does
-not engage in tribal wars; he is familiar only with the strife of
-individual with individual. In fact, wherever the bow and arrow is used
-exclusively, open warfare is impossible. With it, primitive man slays
-his enemy from behind a sheltering bush. It is thus that the Veddah of
-nature serves the cultural Veddah, or the Singhalese who has deceived
-him in secret barter, or even the fellow-tribesman who steals his wife.
-Just as secret barter is carried on in concealment, so also is warfare.
-This, however, indicates that the bow and arrow was originally
-intended for hunting and not for warfare. From this consideration alone
-it is evident that primitive life was not a war of all against all, as
-it was described by Thomas Hobbes. On the contrary, there doubtless
-existed a state of peace, interrupted only occasionally by the strife
-of individual with individual--a strife that resulted from a conflict
-of interests, such as occurred even during this early period.
-
-
-
-3. THE ORIGIN OF MARRIAGE AND THE FAMILY.
-
-
-That the origin of marriage and the family really constitutes a
-problem, long failed to be recognized. Because of the natural relations
-of the sexes it was supposed that man lived in a state of marriage
-from the very beginning. Furthermore, the monogamous marriage of the
-present was projected back into an indefinite past, where it found
-final termination in the idea of a primal pair of ancestors. But, even
-apart from this mythological belief, there were also positive grounds
-for supposing an original state of monogamy. Do not many animals live
-in monogamous union? In addition to nest-building birds, monogamy
-prevails particularly among mammals, and, of the latter, among those
-that have the closest physical relationship to man. We might cite the
-gorilla, the primate that most resembles man, and probably also the
-chimpanzee, although in this case we lack positive proof. Why, then,
-should not man have carried over monogamous marriage from his animal
-state into his primitive culture? This theory, therefore, was regarded
-as almost self-evident until after the middle of the last century.
-But in 1861, a Swiss jurist and antiquarian, J. Bachofen, published a
-remarkable work on "Mother-right." In this book Bachofen attempted to
-prove the falsity of the doctrine--previously almost uncontested--that
-monogamy was the original form of marriage, and to refute the view,
-regarded as equally self-evident, that within this marriage union
-man held the supremacy--in brief, the patriarchal theory. Bachofen
-started with a discussion of the Lycians as described by Herodotus.
-According to this writer, the kinship of the children, among the
-Lycians, was determined by the mother, not by the father. The sons
-and daughters belonged to the family of the mother, and descent was
-traced through her instead of through the father. Bachofen found
-similar indications among other peoples also. He called attention, for
-example, to Tacitus's reports in the _Germania_ of some of the German
-tribes in which a son stands closer to the brother of his mother than
-he does to his father. Similar statements occur in Cæsar's _Bellum
-Gallicum_ concerning the Britons. Bachofen collected other examples
-of the same nature, and also especially emphasized certain elements
-in myth and legend that seemed to indicate a like ascendancy of woman
-in early times. In his opinion, legend is esteemed too lightly if, as
-occurred in his day, it is regarded as entirely meaningless. Of course,
-legend is not history; yet it gives a picture, even though in fanciful
-terms, of the real conditions of earlier times. On the basis of these
-detached observations, Bachofen at once constructed a general theory.
-Preceding the patriarchal period of paternal rule, there was maternal
-rule, gynecocracy. In earliest times the mother was the head of the
-family. In romantic colours Bachofen pictures the era in which the fair
-sex guided the destinies of humanity. Later, man, with his rougher
-nature but greater intelligence, displaced her and seized the dominion
-for himself. Bachofen then asks, How did it come about that, in spite
-of this natural superiority of man, woman ruled the family earlier
-than he? To this he gives an extremely prosaic and realistic reply,
-contrasting sharply with his romantic ideas in connection with the
-dominance of woman. We must find a clue, he believes, in those cases
-of our own day in which mothers still determine the name, descent,
-etc., of their children. This happens when the children are born out of
-wedlock. Under such conditions, the child does not know its father, nor
-does, perhaps, even the mother. To understand the origin of maternal
-descent, therefore, we must suppose that children were universally
-born out of wedlock. Thus, prior to the ascendancy of woman, there
-existed a state of agamy, in which there was no marriage but only a
-promiscuous relation of the sexes. We thus have, as it were, a picture
-whose outlines are determined by contrast with the family of civilized
-peoples, and which reminds us of Hobbes's account of the earliest
-political relations, there being in both cases an entire absence of
-order. But it is precisely in this fact, Bachofen believes, that we
-have a clue to the origin of gynecocracy if only we bear in mind the
-actual characteristics of woman. Woman's nature is such that this
-universal promiscuity of the sexes must have become repulsive, first of
-all, to her. Turning away all other men, she accepted but a single one.
-In so doing, woman proved herself the champion of chastity and morals
-which she has since remained. To her, and not to man, is due the honour
-of having founded the monogamous family. At the outset she was also its
-natural preserver and guardian. The children were counted to her kin;
-her kin determined descent; and, in Bachofen's view, this condition,
-which arose out of causes of a universal nature, long prevailed
-throughout the world generally. But why was it not maintained? It was
-not possible, so runs the answer, because, though woman alone was
-psychically fitted to establish it--man could never have instituted
-monogamy--she was not equally fitted to render it permanent. Woman is
-not born to rule. In intelligence, as well as in physical strength,
-she is inferior to man. Altogether, therefore, there are three periods
-of development: agamy or promiscuity, followed by female supremacy or
-mother-right, and, finally, by the dominance of man, or father-right.
-
-These hypotheses of Bachofen created much dispute in succeeding years.
-Some of the facts could not be denied from the standpoint of the
-antiquarian. Nevertheless, the supposition of the universality of an
-early mother-right was quite rightly questioned, and its origin out
-of the completely unrestrained condition of the horde was even more
-vigorously contested. And so the theory of the Swiss jurist, which was
-based essentially on philologic-antiquarian arguments, gradually fell
-into the background, until, in the seventies of the nineteenth century,
-it suddenly seemed to find important corroboration and a new basis
-from an entirely different quarter. It was ethnology that supplied the
-new facts, and these were again derived from a study of Australia,
-that field of ethnological observation which was generally regarded as
-more particularly exemplifying primitive culture. Bachofen believed
-to have demonstrated that maternal descent was originally a universal
-custom, even in the case of those who are now cultural peoples.
-Ethnology revealed the fact that this system of kinship is still very
-prevalent in Australia. Indeed, it is so prevalent that even to-day
-about three-fifths of the tribes trace descent through the mother and
-only two-fifths through the father. In some of the cases in which
-the system of paternal descent is now established, moreover, it is
-probable that the mother once determined the kinship of the children.
-It was on the basis of these facts that, in his volume on the natives
-of south-eastern Australia, Howitt, the most thorough investigator of
-the social conditions of the Australians, came to a conclusion similar
-to that previously reached by Bachofen on the basis of his antiquarian
-investigations. In Howitt's view, all family relations were originally
-based on the system of maternal descent. This system, though generally
-restricted to narrower bounds than in Australia, is likewise to be
-found in America, Melanesia, Polynesia, and in several parts of the
-Old World, especially among the peoples of northern Siberia and among
-the Dravidian tribes in the southern part of Hindustan. These facts
-have more and more led present-day ethnologists to a view that is in
-essential agreement with Bachofen's theory. Again the question was
-raised how such a system of maternal descent was possible. The answer
-was that it could be possible only if the mother, but not the father,
-was known to son and daughter--again an analogical conclusion from
-conditions prevailing in present-day society outside the marriage tie.
-Accordingly, the idea was again adopted that, anteceding marriage,
-there was an original state of promiscuity. It was believed that there
-was originally neither marriage nor family, but merely a condition in
-which there were sexual relations of all with all--a picture of the
-relations between man and woman suggested by the idea of an original
-state of natural rights and of freedom from political restraints, and
-forming, as it were, the counterpart of the latter.
-
-But ethnology then discovered other phenomena also that seemed to
-favour this view. _Two_ lines of argument, particularly, have here
-played an important rôle, and still retain a measure of influence.
-The first argument was again derived from the ethnology of Australia.
-This region possesses a remarkable institution, describable neither
-as monogamy nor as agamy, but appearing, at first glance, to be
-an intermediate form of association. This is the so-called _group
-marriage_; several men are united in common marriage with several
-women. Either a number of brothers marry a number of sisters, or a
-number of men belonging to one kinship group marry in common women
-of another. Group marriage, therefore, may seem to represent a sort
-of transitional stage between promiscuity and monogamy. At first, so
-we might picture it to ourselves, the union of all with all became
-restricted to more limited groups, and only later to the union of one
-man with one woman.
-
-But had not a further argument been added, perhaps neither female
-descent alone nor group marriage would have attracted to this theory so
-many prominent ethnologists, including, besides Howitt, the two able
-investigators of Australia, Spencer and Gillen, the learned exponent
-of comparative ethnology, J. G. Frazer, and a number of others. This
-further argument was presented with particular thoroughness by the
-American ethnologist Lewes Morgan, in his history of primitive man,
-"Ancient Humanity" (1870). It is based upon what Morgan has termed
-the 'Malayan system of relationship.' We are not, of course, familiar
-with this as a system of actual relationship; it occurs only in the
-languages of certain peoples, as a system of names--in short, as a
-nomenclature--referring in part to relations of kinship, but chiefly
-to age-relations within one and the same kinship group. The name
-'Malayan' is not entirely appropriate as applied to this system. The
-nomenclature is found particularly on the island of Hawaii, though it
-also occurs in Micronesian territory. Its essential characteristic may
-be very simply described. It consists, or consisted, in the fact that
-a native of Hawaii, for example, calls by the name of 'father,' not
-only his actual father but also every man of an age such that he could
-be his father--that is, every man in the kinship group of the next
-older generation. Similarly, he calls by the name 'mother,' not only
-his own mother but every woman who might possibly, as regards age, be
-his mother. He calls brother and sister the men and women of his own
-generation, son and daughter those of the next younger generation, and
-so on up to grandfather and grandmother, grandson and grand-daughter.
-The Hawaiian native does not concern himself about more distant
-generations; great-grandfather is for him the same as grandfather, and
-great-grandchild the same as grandchild. The terms, thus, are of the
-simplest sort. The brothers and sisters of a man, whom we designate in
-the accompanying diagram by M, are placed alongside of him in the same
-generation; above, as an older generation, are fathers and mothers;
-still
-
-            Grandparents
-                 |
-      Fathers\   |   /Mothers
-              \  |  /
-   Brothers----  M  ----Sisters
-              /  |  \
-         Sons/   |   \Daughters
-                 |
-            Grandchildren
-
-higher, are grandfathers and grandmothers; below, are sons and
-daughters and the grandsons and granddaughters. The same, of course,
-holds also for women. Thus, the system as a whole comprises five
-generations.
-
-Now, it was maintained that this system could have arisen only out of
-a previous condition of general promiscuity. For, unless the actual
-father were universally unknown, how could it be possible that a
-person would call by the name of father every man within the same
-kinship group who might, as regards age, be his father? If, however,
-we propose this argument, we immediately strike a weak point in the
-hypothesis, since all women of the older generation are called mother
-just as its men are called father. We should certainly expect that the
-real mother would be known, because the child derives its nourishment
-from her during a period which is especially long among primitive
-peoples, and because it grows up close to her. And, furthermore, the
-hypothesis is hardly reconcilable with the fact that, for the most
-part, Malayo-Polynesian languages differentiate relations by marriage
-even more sharply than do our own. An Hawaiian man, for example, calls
-the brother of his wife by a different name than does a woman the
-brother of her husband. Thus, in place of our word 'brother-in-law'
-they have two expressions. In any event, the term 'brother-in-law'
-is applied to an individual, and therefore implies marriage. To meet
-this point, we would be obliged to fall back on the supposition that
-these terms represent later additions to the original nomenclature
-of relationship. But even then the fact would remain that, in their
-direct reference, these terms are merely names for differences in age.
-It therefore remains an open question whether the terms also designate
-relationship; to the extent of our observation, this is certainly not
-the case. The native of Hawaii, so far as we know anything about him,
-knew his father and mother: what he lacked was merely a specific name
-for them. Whenever he did not call his father by his given name, he
-evidently called him by the same name that he applied to the older men
-of his immediate group. Among European peoples also, the terms 'father'
-and 'mother' are sometimes used in connection with men and women
-outside this relationship. For example, the Russians, particularly,
-have a custom of addressing as 'little father' and 'little mother'
-persons who are not in the least related to them. That which makes it
-highly probable that in the so-called Malayan system of relationship we
-are dealing not with degrees of relationship but with age-periods, is,
-in the last event, a different phenomenon--one that has hitherto been
-overlooked in connection with these discussions. In the very regions
-whose languages employ this nomenclature, custom prescribes that the
-youths and men live in separation from the women and children from
-their earliest years on. This is the institution of the men's club with
-its age-groups. Its social rôle is an important one, crowding even
-the family association into the background. Under such circumstances,
-the individual is naturally interested first of all in his companions
-of the same age-group, for each of these usually occupies a separate
-apartment in the men's house. Thus, the so-called Malayan system of
-relationship is really not a system of relationship at all, but a
-nomenclature of age-groups based on social conditions. These conditions
-bring it about that companions of the same sex are more closely
-associated than are men and women. In the men's houses a companion of
-the same group is a brother, one of the next older group, a father.
-Together with these men the individual goes to war and to the hunt.
-Thus, these phenomena cannot be said to belong to the lowest stage of
-culture. Nor, obviously, does this terminology, which has reference
-to differences of age, exclude any particular form of marriage. In
-this case it is a mistake to associate the names 'father,' 'mother,'
-'brother,' etc., with the concepts that we attach to these words.
-
-The hypothesis that the family, whether of monogamous or of polygamous
-organization, was preceded by a state of unrestricted sexual
-intercourse, so-called agamy or promiscuity, is, however, as was
-remarked above, based not only on the fact of maternal descent and of
-the Malayo-Polynesian method of designating ages, but also on that
-of group-marriage. In this form of marriage, a number of men marry
-in common a number of women. This is interpreted as a transitional
-stage between an unrestricted sexual intercourse within the tribe and
-the limited marriage unions of later times. At first glance, indeed,
-this might appear probable. In order, however, to decide whether
-such a transition could take place, and how it might occur, we must
-first of all consider the relation which group-marriage sustains,
-among the peoples who practise it, to the other forms of marriage. It
-then appears at once that it is a particular form of polygamy. True,
-it is not identical with the form of polygamy most familiar to us,
-in which one man possesses several wives. But there is also a second
-form, which, though less frequent, is of greatest importance for an
-interpretation of group-marriage. One woman may have several husbands.
-The two forms of polygamy may conveniently be called _polygyny_ and
-_polyandry_, and these terms should always be distinguished in any
-attempt at a precise account of polygamous marriage. Polygyny is very
-prevalent even in our day, occurring particularly in the Mohammedan
-world, but also among the heathen peoples of Africa, and in other
-regions as well. It was likewise practised by the ancient Israelites,
-and also by the Greeks, although the Indo-Germanic tribes for the most
-part adhered to monogamy from early times on. Polyandry is much less
-common, and is, indeed, to be found only among relatively primitive
-peoples. It occurs in Australia and, in the southern part of Hindustan,
-among the Dravidians, a tribe of people crowded back to the extreme end
-of the continent by peoples who migrated into India; it is found also
-far in the north among the Esquimos of Behring Strait and among the
-Tchuktchis and Ghilyaks of Siberia, and, finally, here and there in the
-South Sea Islands.
-
-If, now, we wish to understand the relation of these two forms of
-polygamy to each other, we must first of all attempt to picture to
-ourselves the motives that underlie them, or, wherever the custom has
-become fixed through age, to bring to light the motives that were
-originally operative. In the case of polygamy, the immediate motive is
-evidently the sexual impulse of man which is more completely satisfied
-by the possession of several wives than by that of a single one. This
-motive, however, does not stand alone; as a rule other contributing
-circumstances are present. Two such important factors, in particular,
-are property rights and the power of authority. Polygyny flourishes
-particularly wherever the general conceptions of property and of
-authority, and, connected with the latter, that of the supremacy of
-man within the family, have attained undue importance. Under the
-co-operation of these motives, the wife becomes the absolute property
-of the husband, and may, therefore, wherever polygyny prevails among
-barbaric peoples, be given away or exchanged. Bound up with this,
-moreover, is the fact that, wherever there are considerable social
-differences, dependent on differences in property and rank, it is
-principally the wealthy or the aristocratic man who possesses many
-wives. In the realm of Islam, the common man is, as a rule, content
-with a _single_ wife, so that monogamy here prevails in the lowest
-stratum of society.
-
-With polyandry the case is essentially otherwise. In it, entirely
-different motives are operative; it might, indeed, be said that they
-are the exact opposite of those that bring about polygyny. It is
-particularly significant that polyandry is found in regions where there
-is a scarcity of women. This scarcity, however, is, in turn, generally
-due to an evil custom of barbaric culture, namely, infanticide. In
-Polynesia, where polyandry was very prevalent, this custom was at
-one time fairly rampant. Even to-day infanticide still appears to
-be practised by some of the Dravidian tribes of Hindustan. Similar
-conditions prevail among the Australians. In Polynesia, however,
-and probably in other localities as well, it was chiefly the female
-children who were the victims of infanticide. The natural result was
-a decrease in women and a striking numerical disproportion between
-the sexes. Thus, Ellis, one of the older English investigators of
-conditions in these territories, estimated the relation of men to women
-as about six to one. Under such circumstances the custom of polyandry
-is intelligible without further explanation. It was not possible for
-every one to possess a wife of his own, and so several men united to
-win one wife in common.
-
-We might ask why it was chiefly girls who fell victims to this murder.
-That children in general should be sacrificed, under the rough
-conditions of nature, is not inexplicable. It is due to the struggle
-for the necessities of life and to the indolence that shrinks from the
-labour of raising children. The desire is to preserve the lives of only
-a limited number; the remainder are killed immediately after birth. In
-Polynesia, the murder was forbidden if the child had lived but a single
-hour. Occasionally, magical motives are operative, as in the case of
-the horror which the man of nature feels towards deviations from the
-normal and towards the birth of twins. That male children are more
-often spared than female, however, can scarcely be explained otherwise
-than on the ground that a particular value is placed on men. The man
-is a companion in sport and in the chase, and is regarded as more
-valuable for the further reason that he aids in tribal warfare. This
-higher value reverts back even to the child. It is evidenced also in
-the fact that, in the case of women, the arrival of adolescence is not
-celebrated with the same solemn ceremonies as are held in the case of
-young men. Whereas great celebrations are held when the youth reaches
-the age of manhood, little notice is taken, as a rule, of the maiden's
-entrance into womanhood. By means of these celebrations, the youths
-are received into the society of men, and, together with companions of
-their own age, are initiated into the traditional ceremonies. In these
-ceremonies women are not allowed to participate.
-
-Though the causes of polyandry are thus entirely different from those
-of polygyny, it does not at all follow that these forms of marriage
-are mutually exclusive. On the contrary, they may very well exist
-side by side, as, indeed, they actually do in many places. But how,
-then, is so-called group-marriage related to these two forms? It is
-obviously nothing but a combination of polyandry and polygyny. In fact,
-whenever a group of men marries a group of women, these two forms of
-polygamy are both involved. Every man has several wives, and every
-wife has several husbands. Only, indeed, on the basis of a purely
-external and superficial consideration could one look upon polygyny
-and polyandry as unconjoinable, because they are, in a certain sense,
-opposing ideas. As a matter of fact, they do not really exclude each
-other. If we bear in mind the causes mentioned above, it is obvious
-that under certain conditions of life, such as occur particularly
-in a more primitive environment, their combination is more probable
-than their mutual exclusion. If, especially among tribes who have
-not yet developed sharply defined distinctions based on property and
-power, as, for example, among the Australians, every man strives to
-obtain several wives (which is the state of polygyny), while, on the
-other hand, there actually exists a dearth of women (which means that
-motives to polyandry are present), the two forms naturally combine
-with each other. This is frequently verified, moreover, whenever we
-are able to gain any degree of insight into the particular conditions
-surrounding the origin of such group-marriages, and also whenever their
-forms undergo a modification of details. Among Australian tribes, for
-example, particularly in the southern part of the continent, there is
-a common form of group-marriage, in which a man possesses either one
-or several chief wives, together with secondary wives; the latter are
-the chief wives of other men, whereas his own chief wife is in turn the
-secondary wife of those men or of others. This custom is very similar
-to what is probably the most common form of polygyny, namely, the
-possession by a man of only _one_ chief wife in addition to several
-secondary wives,--a form of marriage that is obviously derived from
-monogamy. One agency that is particularly apt to bring about such a
-form of marriage, transitional between monogamy and polygyny, is war.
-We know from the Iliad that in barbaric times woman was the booty
-of the conqueror, and became his slave or secondary wife. So also,
-according to the Biblical legend, Abraham possessed a chief wife,
-Sarah, who belonged to his own tribe, but also a secondary wife, Hagar,
-who was an Egyptian slave. Wherever the concept of property became
-prominent, the purchase of women proved to be a further source of
-polygyny. In this case also, there was generally _one_ chief wife,
-wherever polyandry did not interfere. When the Mohammedan of modern
-times calls his chief wife 'favourite,' it is merely another indication
-that this form of polygyny developed from monogamy, since, according
-to the old custom, there was but _one_ chief wife. Here, however, the
-chief wife is no longer necessarily the wife belonging to a man's own
-tribe, as was the case among the ancient Israelites; the favour of the
-master determines which wife shall be given the privileged place.
-
-Thus, from whatever angle we view group-marriage, its polygyny and
-its polyandry seem to rest on monogamy. This is true also of forms
-of group-marriage other than those mentioned above. Where the theft
-of women still continues to be a practice more serious than are the
-somewhat playful survivals that occur in the marriage ceremonies of
-cultural peoples, the one who wishes to steal a wife not infrequently
-secures confederates for his undertaking. Custom then commonly gives
-these companions a certain right to the stolen woman. This right, of
-course, is for the most part temporary, but it may nevertheless come
-to approximate the conditions of group-marriage in case the first man
-assists his confederates in the same way in which they have aided him.
-There is still another and a related motive that may lead to the same
-result. When a woman enters into marriage with a man of a certain
-tribe, she at once enters into very close relations with the tribe
-itself. Where tribal association has gained a preponderant importance,
-custom sometimes grants to all the male members of the tribe certain
-transient rights with respect to the woman on the occasion of her
-marriage. This occurs particularly when the man and woman belong to
-different tribes--that is, in the case of exogamy, an institution
-characteristic of the totemic age and to be considered later. For,
-the lively consciousness of kinship differences naturally tends to
-strengthen the right of appropriation belonging to the entire tribe.
-A similar thought is reflected in the mediæval _jus primæ noctis_ of
-certain provinces of France and Scotland, except that in place of the
-right of the kinship group to the possession of the individual we here
-find the authority of the lord over his vassals.
-
-Thus, all these phenomena, belonging in part to the transitional
-stage between monogamy and polygamy and in part to a combination of
-the two forms of polygamy, namely, polygyny and polyandry, point to
-monogamy as the basal form of marriage, and that form from which, under
-the influence of particular conditions, all others have developed.
-Whether or not we regard it as probable that the system of maternal
-descent was at one time universal, no argument for the existence of
-an original promiscuity can be based upon it. If we call to mind
-the close association of the youths and men of the kinship group in
-the men's house, it will be apparent that such conditions of social
-intercourse make for a particularly intimate bond between mother and
-children. Before his entrance into the community of men, the boy lives
-in the company of the women. This close association between mother and
-children is sufficient to account for the origin of maternal descent.
-But, owing to the gradual change of cultural conditions, it is to be
-expected that maternal descent should pass over into paternal descent
-as soon as more positive conceptions of authority and property are
-formed. Moreover, the possibility also remains that among some tribes
-paternal descent prevailed from the very outset; positive proof is
-here not available. We cannot, of course, deny the possibility that
-under certain cultural conditions man exercised the decisive influence
-from the very beginning, as early, indeed, as one may speak of clan
-membership and hereditary succession. The most primitive stage of
-culture, as we shall see in the following discussion, lacks the
-conditions for either maternal or paternal descent, inasmuch as it
-possesses neither clearly defined clans nor any personal property worth
-mention.
-
-Thus, the arguments based on the existing conditions of primitive
-peoples, and contending that the original condition of mankind was that
-of a horde in which both marriage and the family were lacking, are
-untenable. On the contrary, the phenomena, both of group-marriage,
-valued as the most important link in the chain of proof, and of the
-simpler forms of polygamy, everywhere point to _monogamy_ as their
-basis. Furthermore, these arguments all rest on the assumption that
-the peoples among whom these various phenomena occur, particularly
-the combination of polygyny and polyandry in group-marriage, occupy a
-primitive plane of social organization. This presupposition also has
-proven fallacious, since it has become evident that this organization,
-especially among the Australian tribes, is an extremely complicated
-one, and points back to a long history involving many changes of custom.
-
-Meanwhile, primitive man, in so far as we may speak of him in the
-relative sense already indicated, has really been discovered. But the
-Australian does not belong to this class, nor, even less, can many of
-the peoples of Oceania be counted within it. It includes only those
-tribes which, having probably been isolated for many centuries and
-cut off from the culture of the rest of the world, have remained on
-the same primitive level. We have become familiar with them in the
-preceding account of the external culture of primitive man. We find
-them to be forest peoples who have, for the most part, been crowded
-back into inaccessible territory and who have entered but slightly
-into intercourse with the outside world, inasmuch as their needs are
-limited. They generally call themselves, whether rightly or wrongly
-we need not inquire, the original inhabitants of these regions,
-and they are regarded as such by their neighbours. They include,
-in addition to several tribes of Hindustan (as yet insufficiently
-studied), particularly the Semangs and Senoi of the interior of the
-Malay Peninsula, the Veddahs of Ceylon, the Negritos of the Philippines
-and Central Africa, and, finally, to some extent, also the Bushmen.
-This is certainly a considerable number of peoples, some of whom live
-at great distances from the others. In spite of this, however, even
-their external culture is largely the same. Considering the primitive
-character of their social institutions and customs, it would seem safe
-to say that without doubt they approach the lowest possible level of
-human culture. Besides bow and arrow they have scarcely a weapon, no
-vessels of clay, and practically only such implements as are presented
-directly by nature herself. At this stage there is scarcely anything
-to distinguish man from the animal except the early discovered art of
-kindling fire, with its influence on the utilization of the food that
-is gathered. Briefly summarized, these are the main traits of primitive
-culture that are known to us.
-
-What, now, is the status of marriage and the family at this period? The
-answer to this question will come as a surprise to those who are imbued
-with the widespread hypotheses that presuppose the primitive state to
-be that of the horde. And yet, if these hypotheses be regarded in the
-proper light, our answer might almost be expected. Among the primitive
-tribes that we have mentioned, monogamy is everywhere found to be not
-only the exclusive mode of marriage, but that which is always, so to
-speak, taken for granted; and this monogamy, indeed, takes the form of
-single marriage. It is but rarely that related families live together
-more or less permanently, forming the beginning of the joint family.
-The Bushmen alone offer something of an exception to this rule. Among
-them, polygyny, together with other practices, has been introduced.
-This is probably due to the influence of neighbouring African peoples,
-such as the Hottentots and the Bantus. Elsewhere conditions are
-different. This is true especially of the Semangs and Senoi, whose
-isolation has remained more complete, and of the Veddahs of nature,
-as the Sarasin cousins call them in distinction from the surrounding
-Veddahs of culture. Among these peoples, monogamy--indeed, lifelong
-monogamy--has remained the prevailing form of marriage. Connected with
-it is found the original division of labour, which is based on sex.
-Man provides the animal food by hunting; woman gathers the vegetable
-food--fruits, tubers, and seeds--and, by the employment of fire, if
-necessary, renders both it and the game edible. This basis of division
-of labour, which appears natural and in harmony with the endowment of
-the sexes, contrasts with the conditions of later culture in that it
-indicates an approximate equality of the sexes. Furthermore, Rudolf
-Martin and the two Sarasins, investigators of the primitive Asiatic
-tribes of Malacca and Ceylon, commend the marriage of these peoples
-as being a union of husband and wife strictly guarded by custom.
-In forming a moral estimate of these conditions, it should not be
-overlooked that the exclusive possession of the wife is probably due to
-jealousy as much as it is to mutual faithfulness. Among the Veddahs,
-the intruder who threatens this possession is struck to earth by a
-well-aimed arrow shot from behind ambush, and custom approves this act
-of vengeance as a justifiable measure on the part of the injured man.
-Therefore, even though a French traveller and investigator may, to a
-certain extent, have confused cause and effect when he stated that the
-monogamy of these tribes had its origin in jealousy, the exercise of
-the right of revenge may, nevertheless, have helped to strengthen the
-custom. But, of course, in view of the primitive state of culture that
-here prevails, this custom of revenge is itself merely an indication of
-the undisputed supremacy of monogamy. Even as the individual, and not
-the clan, exercises this vengeance, so also does marriage continue to
-be restricted to single marriage. Of the formation of joint families,
-which arise out of the union of immediate blood relations, we find at
-most, as has been remarked, only the beginnings.
-
-
-
-4. PRIMITIVE SOCIETY.
-
-
-The more extensive social groups generally result from the fact that
-during the rainy season families withdraw into caves among the hills.
-The larger caves are frequently occupied in common by a number of
-families, particularly by such as are most closely related. Yet the
-groups of co-dwellers are not so much determined by considerations
-of kinship as by the size of the places of refuge; a single family
-occasionally occupies a small cave by itself. Nevertheless, this
-community life plainly furnishes the incentive to a gradual formation
-of wider social groups. This, no doubt, accounts for the fact that
-during the favourable season of the year several families of the
-Veddahs claim for themselves a specific plot of ground, whose supply of
-game, as well as of the products of the soil, which the women gather,
-belongs exclusively to them. Thus, there is a division of the people
-into districts, and these are determined geographically rather than
-ethnologically. Every one is entitled to obtain his food, whether game
-or products of the soil, from a specified territory. Custom strictly
-guards this communal property, just as it protects the single marriage.
-The Veddah, for example, who encroaches upon the territory belonging to
-a group other than his own, is in no less danger of falling a victim to
-an arrow shot from an ambush than is the one who trespasses on marriage
-ties.
-
-These various institutions form the beginnings of social organization,
-but as yet they do not represent developed clan groups or established
-joint families of the patriarchal type. On the contrary, as they
-arise through the free association of individuals, so also may they
-be freely dissolved. Each man has exclusive possession of his wife.
-Without interference on the part of his clan, moreover, he exercises
-absolute control over his children, who remain with the individual
-family just as in the case of a developed monogamy. There is no trace
-of sex-groups, such as are later to be found in the case of the men's
-houses and the age-groups. Only temporarily, on the occasion of common
-undertakings, such as the hunting of large animals, which requires a
-considerable measure of strength, or when new hunting-grounds are being
-sought, is a leader appointed from among the older men. His leadership,
-however, ceases with the completion of the undertaking. There are no
-permanent chiefs, any more than there are clans or tribal organizations.
-
-Thus, in summary, we might say: Whenever the social organization
-of primitive man has remained uninfluenced by peoples of a higher
-culture, it consists in a firmly established monogamy of the form of
-_single marriage_--a mode of existence that was probably carried over
-from a prehuman stage resembling that of the present-day anthropoids.
-There are also scanty beginnings of social groups. If we consider
-these tribes as a whole, they still continue to lead the life of a
-_horde_, meaning by this an unorganized, in contrast to an organized,
-tribe of people. Indeed, it was through a curious change of meaning
-that this word acquired its present significance. It is supposed to
-have originated in a Mongolian idiom, whence it found its way first
-into the Russian and later into other European languages. The Tartars
-called a division of warriors a _horda_. First used in this sense, the
-word apparently did not receive its present meaning in Germany until
-the beginning of the eighteenth century. Having in mind the "Golden
-Horde" of the Tartars, a horde was understood to mean a particularly
-dreaded division of warriors. The furious force of these Asiatic
-hordes, and the terror which they spread, later caused the concept
-to be extended to all unorganized, wild, and unrestrained masses of
-men. Taking the word in this wider significance, we may now say that
-the horde, as a fairly large social group in which only very meagre
-suggestions of an organized tribal system occur, is characteristic of
-primitive times, no less than are the isolated single family and the
-beginnings of the joint family. Thus defined, however, the horde does
-not differ essentially from the animal _herd_, in the meaning which the
-latter concept would possess when applied to human-kind. And it is not
-impossible that in the extension of the meaning of the term 'horde,'
-this association of the foreign word with the original Germanic word
-'herd' played a part. A horde, we might say, is a human herd, but it is
-precisely a _human_ herd. Between the members of a horde, therefore,
-there exists a relation that is lacking in the animal herd, in flocks
-of migratory birds, for example, or in herds of sheep and cattle. This
-relation is established and preserved through a community of language.
-Herder, therefore, truthfully remarks that man was from the beginnings
-a 'herding animal,' in so far as he possessed social instincts. Even
-in the formation of language these social instincts were operative.
-Without a community life, and, we may add, without the mental
-interaction of individuals, language would be impossible. Language,
-however, in turn, strengthened this community life, and elevated it
-above the status of the animal herd or of an association concerned
-merely with momentary needs.
-
-Thus, these reflections concerning the social relations of primitive
-man lead us to a further field of phenomena which likewise affords
-a glimpse into the mental characteristics of primitive peoples. For
-that which differentiates the horde from the herd is the _language_ of
-primitive man, together with the activity most closely bound up with
-language, namely, _thinking_.
-
-
-
-5. THE BEGINNINGS OF LANGUAGE.
-
-
-Our knowledge of those peoples whom we, avoiding the errors of the
-past, may now regard as primitive, led to the conviction that the
-Asiatic and African tribes described above were actually primitive,
-in the above-mentioned relative sense of the word. Naturally the
-question concerning the language of these peoples then began to arouse
-considerable attention, on the part, not only of ethnologists, but also
-of those interested in philology. The question is of equal importance,
-to say the least, for the psychologist. For language is bound up
-with thought. From the phenomena of language, therefore, we may draw
-inferences concerning the most general characteristics of thought. Such
-fundamental differences of language as exist, for example, between the
-Chinese and the Indo-Germanic tongues do not, of course, allow the
-direct conclusion that there are quantitative differences in mental
-culture. They do imply, however, that there are divergent directions
-and forms of thought. In their ceaseless change, the latter react upon
-language, and this, in turn, again influences mental characteristics.
-We cannot suppose that, in the period of Old High German, much less
-in that of the original German, our ancestors employed the same forms
-of thought with which we of to-day are familiar. To a lesser degree,
-similar changes have undoubtedly transpired within much shorter spaces
-of time.
-
-These considerations make the question concerning the language of
-primitive man of the utmost psychological importance. Linguistic
-investigations, however, so far as they, in their early attempts,
-had been able to survey the field, had brought to light a fact which
-discouraged all efforts to discover an original language. Indeed, it
-was inevitable that at first glance this discovered fact should have
-appeared exceedingly strange, particularly when viewed in connection
-with the life of primitive man. It appeared that, for the most part,
-the original languages of primitive tribes no longer exist. It is true
-that in the vocabularies of the Semangs and Senoi of Malacca, of the
-Veddahs of Ceylon, of the Negritos of the Philippines, and in other
-vocabularies that have been collected, single words may be found which
-do not occur in the languages of the neighbouring tribes; and it is
-noteworthy that the bow and arrow are the objects most frequently
-designated by such words, a proof of the fact that these are really
-relatively primitive inventions. On the whole, however, the Veddahs
-speak the language of the Singhalese and Tamils; the Semangs and Senoi,
-as well as the Negritos of the Philippines, that of their neighbours,
-the Malays; similarly, among the African tribes, the Pygmies of Central
-Africa have apparently appropriated the language of the Monbuttus and
-other negro races, and the Bushmen that of the Hottentots.
-
-How may this remarkable fact be explained? That these tribes formerly
-possessed languages of their own can scarcely be doubted. For, as
-respects physical characteristics, they are absolutely distinct races.
-Considering their characteristics as a whole, moreover, it is utterly
-impossible that they could have lacked language before coming into
-contact with the peoples who entered the country at a later period.
-How, then, did these people come apparently to lose their original
-language? To this we may briefly reply that there here transpired
-what always occurs when the well-known principle of the struggle for
-existence is applied to the field of mental phenomena. The stronger
-race crowded out the most important mental creation of the weaker, its
-language. The language of the weaker race, which was probably very
-meagre, succumbed to a language that was more highly developed. At
-first glance, this explanation would appear to contradict what we know
-concerning the life of these primitive tribes. With what anxiety they
-isolate themselves from their neighbours! A striking proof of this is
-offered by the practice of secret barter, in which primitive man sets
-out from the forest, if possible by night, and deposits his captured
-game at a place which custom has set apart for this purpose, returning
-the next night to take whatever the more civilized neighbouring tribes
-have left in exchange--iron implements and weapons, material for
-clothing, and especially articles of adornment. The participants in
-this barter do not see each other, much less speak with each other. But
-where such seclusion exists, how is it possible for a strange language
-to penetrate? This problem appears almost insoluble. Nevertheless,
-a solution that appears at least probable was suggested by the
-investigations of Kern, an able Dutch scholar. His studies were based
-mainly on the development of the various Malayan idioms. A remarkable
-exception to the rule that primitive tribes have adopted the language
-of their more civilized neighbours came to light in the case of the
-Negritos of the Philippines. Their neighbours, as well as those of
-the tribes of the interior of Malacca, belong to that much-migrating
-race, the Malayans. If we compare the Negrito word-formations that
-have been collected during the past forty years with the vocabulary
-of the neighbouring Malayans, it is evident that all the words are
-entirely different, or at least seem to be so with few exceptions.
-When, however, Kern traced the probable development of these words, and
-compared them, not with the present-day usage of the Malays but with
-older stages of their language, he found that the latter invariably
-contained the counterparts of the Negrito words. Thus, while these
-Negritos have remained untouched by the present-day Malays, who
-probably entered the country at least several centuries ago, they have
-evidently derived their language from a Malayan influx that occurred
-much earlier still. To this may be added the demonstrable fact,
-gleaned from another source, that from very early times the Malayan
-tribes undertook migrations at widely separated intervals. Traversing
-the seas in their unsteady boats, they at various times peopled such
-islands, in particular, as were not too remote from the mainland. Now
-the testimony of language, to which we have referred, demonstrates
-that there were at least two such migrations to the Philippines, and
-that they occurred at widely different times. The original Malayan
-dialect, which has now become extinct or unknown to the modern Malays,
-was assimilated by the Negrito peoples, who probably occupied this
-territory before the arrival of any of the Malays. But this leads to
-a further inference. If the language was appropriated in prehistoric
-times and if the conditions of the present are such as would make this
-scarcely possible, we must conclude that the interrelations of the
-immigrants and the original inhabitants were formerly not the same as
-those that now prevail. And, as a matter of fact, this seems altogether
-probable, if we call to mind the descriptions which modern travellers
-give of their experiences among these primitive peoples. The traits of
-character that particularly distinguish them are fear and hatred of
-their more civilized neighbours; corresponding to this, is the contempt
-felt by the latter, because of their higher culture, for the more
-primitive peoples. The only thing that restrains the immigrant people
-from waging a war of extermination against the original inhabitants
-is the fear of the poisoned arrow which the Negrito directs against
-his enemy from behind an ambush. In view of these facts it is not
-difficult to understand the almost universal isolation of primitive
-man at the present time. On the other hand, travellers who have
-been admitted into the lives of the primitive tribes of Malacca and
-Ceylon and have sought to gain their friendship, unanimously assure us
-that, whenever a person has once succeeded in coming close to these
-people and in overcoming their distrust, he finds their outstanding
-characteristics to be good nature and readiness to render assistance.
-We may, therefore, be justified in assuming that the seclusion of
-primitive man was not an original condition, but that it grew up, here
-and elsewhere, as a result of the war of extermination to which he was
-exposed on the part of the races attempting to crowd him out of a large
-part of his territory. Before this state of affairs arose, barter also
-could scarcely have possessed that character of secrecy which only fear
-and hatred could give it. In all probability the intercourse which
-necessarily took place in early times between the older inhabitants
-and the newer peoples, led to a competition of languages in which
-the poorer and less developed language of primitive man inevitably
-succumbed. Nevertheless, the primitive language may also have quietly
-exercised a reciprocal influence upon the more advanced language.
-An observation that we cannot escape, even on far higher stages of
-linguistic development, is the fact that, in such a struggle between a
-superior minority and a less civilized majority, the former determines
-the main stock of words, and even, under favourable conditions, the
-grammatical form, whereas the latter exercises a decisive influence
-on pronunciation. That a similar process occurred in connection with
-the displacement of primitive languages, the language of the Bushmen
-offers proof. This is essentially a Hottentot dialect, even though
-it is characterized by certain traits of primitive thought. The
-Hottentots, however, have derived their well-known clacking sounds from
-the Bushmen, who also gave these sounds to the languages of the Bantu
-peoples.
-
-But are we deprived of all knowledge concerning the most primitive
-grammatical forms and concerning the related question of the origin
-of language, by virtue of the fact that the languages of primitive
-peoples have, with the exception of meagre remnants, apparently been
-lost? There is a consideration touching the question of primitive forms
-of thought and language that enables us, in spite of the difficulty
-suggested, to answer this question in the _negative_. The development
-of language does not at all keep pace with that of the other forms of
-culture. Primitive forms of thought especially, and the corresponding
-expression which they receive in language, may long persist after
-external culture is relatively advanced. And thus, among tribes that
-are in general far beyond the primitive stage, linguistic forms may
-still be found which are exact counterparts of phenomena that, from a
-psychological point of view, must be regarded as primitive. As regards
-this point, it is especially the African languages of the Soudan that
-offer a typical field for linguistic study. If we analyse the syntax of
-such a language and the forms of thought which the sentence structure
-allows us to infer, we gain the impression that it is hardly possible
-to imagine a form of human thought whose essential characteristics
-could be more primitive. This is clearly apparent from a consideration
-of the Ewe language of the peoples of Togo, a German colonial
-possession. This is a Soudan language, on whose grammar D. Westermann,
-a German missionary, has given us a valuable treatise. While the
-Ewe language does not contain all the essential features apparently
-characteristic of relatively primitive thought, it does exemplify some
-of them. We are led to this conclusion particularly when we compare
-it, together with other Soudan languages, with a form of language
-which, though it arises under highly advanced cultural conditions, may
-nevertheless be regarded as primitive, since it is actually formed anew
-before our very eyes. I refer to _gesture-language_. In this case, it
-is not sounds, but expressive movements, imitative and pantomimic, that
-form the means by which man communicates his thoughts to man. Though
-we may regard gesture-language as an original form of language, in so
-far as we can observe it at the moment of its creation, we must not, of
-course, forget that the genesis of the forms of gesture communication
-familiar to us belongs to a higher culture whose conditions differ
-widely from those of primitive thought.
-
-Now, of the various forms of gesture-language, the one that is least
-subject to change is doubtless the means of communication employed
-by those who are bereft of hearing, and therefore of speech as well,
-namely, the _deaf and dumb_. A similar means of communication through
-signs and gestures may also be observed among peoples of low culture.
-Especially when they consist of tribes with markedly different
-dialects, do such peoples make use of gestures in communicating
-with one another. Investigations of the spontaneously arising
-gesture-language of deaf-mutes date largely from the first half of
-the nineteenth century. More recent studies have been made of the
-gestures of the North American Indian tribes, and similar, though less
-complete, observations have been reported concerning the Australians.
-In these cases, however, gestures sometimes serve also as a sort of
-secret language. This is even more true of certain signs that occur
-among some of the peoples of southern Europe, as, for example, among
-the Neapolitans. In considering the question before us, such cases
-must, of course, be excluded, since the motive of communicating ideas
-may here be entirely displaced by that of keeping them secret; instead
-of a language that arises spontaneously, we have a means which is, on
-the whole, consciously elaborated for purposes of mutual understanding.
-If we disregard these cases, which belong to an entirely different
-order of facts, and examine the data gathered from widely different
-parts of the earth and from very diverse conditions of culture, we
-find a remarkable agreement. In certain details, of course, there are
-differences. The ideas of the Indian are not in all respects like those
-of the civilized European or those of the Australian. Nevertheless,
-the gestures that refer to specific concrete objects are frequently so
-similar that many of the signs employed by the gesture-language of the
-deaf-mutes of Europe may be found among the Dakota Indians. Could we
-transfer one of these deaf and dumb persons to this group of Indians,
-he would probably have no difficulty at all in communicating with them.
-In more recent times the opportunity of investigating spontaneous
-gesture-language has not been so great, because deaf-mutes have become
-more and more educated to the use of verbal language. The principal
-material for the study of the natural gesture-language of deaf-mutes
-is, therefore, still to be found in the older observations of Schmalz
-(1838, 2nd ed. 1848), a German teacher of people thus afflicted, and in
-the somewhat later reports of an Englishman by the name of Scott (1870).
-
-What, now, do these observations teach us concerning the origin of
-gesture-language, and therefore probably also concerning the factors
-underlying the origin of language in general? According to the
-popular notion, a so-called impulse for communication or, perhaps,
-certain intellectual processes, voluntary reflections, and actions,
-account for the fact that the contents of one's own consciousness
-come to be communicated to other individuals. If, however, we observe
-gesture-language in its origin, we obtain an entirely different
-view. This mode of communication is not the result of intellectual
-reflections or conscious purposes, but of emotion and the involuntary
-expressive movements that accompany emotion. Indeed, it is simply a
-natural development of those expressive movements of human beings
-that also occur where the intention of communicating is obviously
-absent. As is well known, it is not only emotions that are reflected
-in one's movements, particularly in mimetic movements of the face,
-but also ideas. Whenever ideas strongly tinged with feeling enter
-into the course of emotions, the direct mimetic expressions of the
-face are supplemented by movements of the arms and hands. The angry
-man gesticulates with movements which clearly indicate the impulse
-to attack that is inherent in anger. Or, when we have an ideational
-process of an emotional nature, and ideas arise referring to objects
-that are present to us, we point to the objects, even though there be
-no intention of communicating the ideas. Directions in space, likewise,
-as well as past time and futurity, are involuntarily expressed by
-means of backward and forward pointing movements; 'large' and 'small'
-are expressed by the raising and lowering of the hands. When further
-movements are added, indicating the form of an object by describing its
-image in the air with the hands, all the elements of a gesture-language
-are complete. What is lacking is only that the emotionally coloured
-idea be not a mere expression of one's own emotion, but that it evoke
-the same emotion and, through this, the same idea, in the minds of
-others. Under the influence of the emotion aroused within them, those
-addressed must then reply with the same, or slightly different,
-expressive movements. When this occurs, there is developed a common
-thinking in which impulsive movements are more and more displaced
-by voluntary actions, and ideational contents, together with the
-corresponding gestures, enter into the foreground of attention. By
-virtue of this ideational content, movements expressive of emotions
-come to be expressions of ideas; the communication of an individual's
-experiences to others results in an exchange of thought--that is, in
-language. This development, however, is influenced by that of all
-the other psychical functions, and especially by the transition of
-emotional and impulsive movements into voluntary actions.
-
-Of what nature, now, is the content of such a gesture-language as
-arises independently within a community, and which may, in so far,
-be regarded as primitive? To this we may briefly reply that all
-elements of this language are perceptible to the senses, and therefore
-immediately intelligible. Hence it is that deaf-mutes, though of
-different nationalities, can make themselves understood without
-difficulty, even upon meeting for the first time. This intelligibility
-of gesture-language, however, rests upon the fact that the signs it
-employs--or, translated into the terminology of spoken language, its
-words--are direct representations of the objects, the qualities, or
-the events referred to. Whenever the object discussed is present, the
-gesture of _pointing_ with the hand and finger is itself the clearest
-way of designating the object. Thus, for instance, 'I' and 'you' are
-expressed by the speaker's pointing to himself or to the other person.
-This suggests a similar movement to designate a 'third person' who
-is not present. The sign in this case is a backward movement of the
-finger. Whenever the objects of conversation are present in the field
-of vision, the dumb person, as a rule, dispenses with every other form
-of representation but that of merely pointing to them.
-
-Since the objects under discussion are, on the whole, only rarely
-present, there is a second and important class of gestures, which,
-for the sake of brevity, we may call _graphic_. The deaf-mute, as
-also the Indian and the Australian, represents an absent object by
-pictures outlined in the air. What he thus sketches in only very
-general outlines is intelligible to one practised in gesture-language.
-Moreover, there is a marked tendency for such gestures to become
-permanent within a particular social group. For the word 'house,'
-the outlines of roof and walls are drawn; the idea of walking is
-communicated by imitating the movements of walking with the index and
-middle fingers of the right hand upon the left arm, which is held out
-horizontally; the idea of striking is represented by causing the hand
-to go through the movements of striking. Not infrequently, however,
-several signs must be combined to make a gesture intelligible. In the
-German and English deaf and dumb language, the word 'garden,' for
-example, is expressed by first describing a circle with the index
-finger to indicate a place, and by then lifting the thumb and the index
-finger to the nose as the gesture for smelling. 'Garden,' thus, is, as
-it were, a place where there are flowers to smell. The idea 'teacher'
-cannot, of course, be directly represented or pictured; it is too
-complicated for a language of representation. The deaf and dumb person,
-therefore, is likely to proceed by first making the gesture for man.
-For this purpose, he singles out an incidental characteristic, his
-gesture being that of lifting his hat. Since women do not remove their
-hats in greeting, this gesture is highly typical. The distinctive sign
-for woman consists in laying the hands upon the breast. Now, in order
-to communicate the idea of 'male teacher,' the hat is first lifted as
-the above gesture for man, and then the index finger is raised. This is
-done either because pupils in school raise the index finger to indicate
-their knowledge of a certain thing or, perhaps, because the teacher
-occasionally raises his finger when he wishes to command attention or
-to threaten punishment.
-
-Pointing and graphic gestures thus represent the two means which
-gesture-language employs. Within the second of these classes of
-gestures, however, we may distinguish a small sub-group that may be
-called _significant_; in this case, the object is not represented by
-means of a direct picture, but by incidental characteristics--man, for
-example, is expressed by lifting the hat. The signs are all directly
-perceptible. The most important characteristic of gesture-language, as
-well as the most distinctive feature of an original language, is the
-fact that there is no trace of abstract concepts, there being merely
-perceptual representations. And yet some of these representations--and
-this is a proof of how insistently human thought, even in its
-beginnings, presses on to the formation of concepts--have acquired a
-symbolical meaning by virtue of which they become sensuous means, in
-a certain sense, of expressing concepts which in themselves are not
-of a perceptual nature. We may here mention only _one_ such gesture,
-noteworthy because it occurs independently in the language of the
-European deaf and dumb and in that of the Dakota Indians. 'Truth' is
-represented by moving the index finger directly forward from the lips,
-while 'lie' is indicated by a movement towards the right or left. The
-former is thus held to be a straight speech and the latter a crooked
-speech, transcriptions which also occur, as poetical expressions,
-in spoken language. On the whole, however, such symbolical signs
-are rare if the natural gesture-language has not been artificially
-reconstructed; moreover, they always remain perceptual in character.
-
-Corresponding to this feature is also another characteristic which all
-natural gesture-languages will be found to possess. In vain we search
-them for the grammatical categories either of our own or of other
-spoken languages--none may be found. No distinction is made between
-noun, adjective, or verb; none between nominative, dative, accusative,
-etc. Every representation retains its representative character,
-and that to which it refers may exemplify any of the grammatical
-categories known to us. For example, the gesture for walking may
-denote either the act of walking or the course or path; that for
-striking, either the verb 'to strike' or the noun 'blow.' Thus, in
-this respect also, gesture-language is restricted to perceptual signs
-expressing ideas capable of perceptual representation. The same is
-true, finally, of the sequence in which the ideas of the speaker
-are arranged, or, briefly, of the syntax of gesture-language. In
-various ways, depending on fixed usages of language, our syntax, as
-is well known, permits us to separate words that, as regards meaning,
-belong together, or, conversely, to bring together words that have
-no immediate relation. Gesture-language obeys but _one_ law. Every
-single sign must be intelligible either in itself or through the one
-preceding it. It follows from this that if, for example, an object
-and one of its qualities are both to be designated, the quality must
-not be expressed first, since, apart from the object, it would be
-unmeaning; its designation, therefore, regularly occurs after that
-of the object to which it belongs. Whereas, for example, we say 'a
-good man,' gesture-language says 'man good.' Similarly, in the case
-of verb and object, the object generally precedes. When, however, the
-action expressed by the verb is thought of as more closely related to
-the subject, the converse order may occur and the verb may directly
-follow the subject. How, then, does gesture-language reproduce the
-sentence 'The angry teacher struck the child'? The signs for teacher
-and for striking have already been described; 'angry' is expressed
-mimetically by wrinkling the forehead; 'child' by rocking the left
-forearm supported by the right. Thus, the above sentence is translated
-into gesture-language in the following manner: First, there are the
-two signs for teacher, lifting the hat and raising the finger; then
-follows the mimetic gesture for anger, succeeded by a rocking of the
-arm to signify child, and, finally, by the motion of striking. If we
-indicate the subject of the sentence by S, the attribute by A, the
-object by O, and the verb by V, the sequence in our language is ASVO;
-in gesture-language it is SAOV, 'teacher angry child strikes,' or, in
-exceptional cases, SAVO. Gesture-language thus reverses the order of
-sequence in the two pairs of words. A construction such as '_es schlug
-das Kind der Lehrer_ (VOS), always possible in spoken language and
-occurring not infrequently (for example, in Latin), would be absolutely
-impossible in gesture-language.
-
-If, then, gesture-language affords us certain psychological conclusions
-regarding the nature of a primitive language, it is of particular
-interest, from this point of view, to compare its characteristics
-with the corresponding traits of the most primitive spoken languages.
-As already stated, the so-called Soudan languages typify those that
-bear all the marks of relatively primitive thought. These languages
-of Central Africa obviously represent a much more primitive stage
-of development than do those of the Bantu peoples of the south or
-even those of the Hamitic peoples of the north. The language of the
-Hottentots is related to that of these Hamitic peoples. It is, in fact,
-because of this relationship, and also because of characteristics
-divergent from the negro type, that the Hottentots are regarded as a
-race that immigrated from the north and underwent changes by mixture
-with native peoples. If, now, we compare one of the Soudan languages,
-the Ewe, for example, with gesture-language, one difference will
-at once be apparent. The words of this relatively primitive spoken
-language do not possess the qualities of perceptibility and immediate
-intelligibility that characterize each particular gesture-sign. This
-is readily explicable as a result of processes of phonetic change,
-which are never absent, as well as of the assimilation of foreign
-elements and of the replacement of words by conceptual symbols that
-are accidental and independent of the sound. These changes occur in
-the history of every language. Every spoken language is the outcome of
-recondite processes whose beginnings are no longer traceable. And yet
-the Soudan languages, particularly, have preserved characteristics that
-show much more intimate connections between sound and meaning than our
-cultural languages possess. The very fact is noteworthy that certain
-gradations or even antitheses of thought are regularly expressed
-by gradations or antitheses of sound whose feeling tone plainly
-corresponds to the relation of the ideas. While our words 'large'
-and 'small,' 'here' and 'there,' show no correspondence between the
-character of the sound and the meaning, the case is entirely different
-with the equivalent expressions in the Ewe language. In this language
-large and small objects are designated by the same word. In the one
-case, however, the word is uttered in a deep tone, while in the other a
-high tone is used. Or, in the case of indicative signs, the deep tone
-signifies greater remoteness, the high tone, proximity. Indeed, in
-some Sudan languages three degrees of remoteness or of size are thus
-distinguished. 'Yonder in the distance' is expressed by a very deep
-tone; 'yonder in the middle distance,' by a medium tone; and 'here,' by
-the highest tone. Occasionally, differences of quality are similarly
-distinguished by differences of tone, as, for example, 'sweet' by a
-high tone, 'bitter' by a deep tone, 'to be acted upon' (that is, our
-passive) by a deep tone, and activity (or our active) by a high tone.
-This accounts for a phenomenon prevalent in other languages remote from
-those of the Soudan. In Semitic and Hamitic languages, the letter 'U,'
-particularly, has the force of a passive when occurring either as a
-suffix to the root of a word or in the middle of the word itself. For
-example, in the Hebrew forms of the so-called 'Pual' and 'Piel,' as
-well as 'Hophal' and 'Hiphil,' the first of each pair is passive, and
-the second, active in meaning. It was frequently supposed that this
-was accidental, or was due to linguistic causes of phonetic change
-other than the above. But when we meet the same variations of sound
-and meaning in other radically different languages, we must stop
-to ask ourselves whether this is not the result of a psychological
-relationship which, though generally lost in the later development
-of language, here still survives in occasional traces. In fact, when
-we recall the way in which we relate stories to children, we at once
-notice that precisely the same phenomenon recurs in child-language--a
-language, of course, first created, as a rule, by adults. This
-connection of sound and meaning is clearly due to the unconscious
-desire that the sound shall impart to the child not merely the meaning
-of the idea, but also its feeling-tone. In describing giants and
-monsters, she who relates fairy-tales to the child deepens her tone;
-when fairies, elves, and dwarfs appear in the narrative, she raises
-her voice. If sorrow and pain enter, the tone is deepened; with joyous
-emotions, high tones are employed. In view of these facts, we might say
-that this direct correlation of expression and meaning, observed in
-that most primitive of all languages, gesture-language, has disappeared
-even from the relatively primitive spoken languages; nevertheless,
-the latter have retained traces of it in greater abundance than have
-the cultural languages. In the cultural languages they recur, if at
-all, only in the onomatopoetic word-formations of later origin. We
-may recall such words as _sausen_ (soughing), _brummen_ (growling),
-_knistern_ (crackling), etc.
-
-The question still remains how the other characteristics of
-gesture-language, particularly the absence of grammatical categories
-and a syntax which follows the principle of immediate and perceptual
-intelligibility, compare with the corresponding characteristics of the
-relatively primitive spoken languages. These characteristics, indeed,
-are of incomparably greater importance than the relations of sound and
-meaning. The latter are more strongly exposed to external, transforming
-influences. Word-formations, however, and the position of the words
-within the sentence, mirror the forms of thought itself; whenever the
-thought undergoes vital changes, the latter inevitably find expression
-in the grammatical categories of the language, and in the laws of
-syntax which it follows.
-
-
-
-6. THE THINKING OF PRIMITIVE MAN.
-
-
-From the point of view just developed, the investigation of the
-grammatical forms of primitive language is of particular importance for
-the psychology of primitive man. True, as has already been remarked,
-the languages of the most primitive tribes have not been preserved
-to us in their original form. And yet it is in this very realm of
-grammatical forms, far more even than in that of sound pictures and
-onomatopoetic words, that the Soudan languages possess characteristics
-which mark them as the expression of processes of thought that
-have remained on a relatively primitive level. This is indicated
-primarily by the fact that these languages lack what we would call
-grammatical categories. As regards this point, Westermann's grammar
-of the Ewe language is in entire agreement with the much earlier
-results which Steinthal reached in his investigation of the Manda
-language, which is also of the Soudan region. These languages consist
-of monosyllabic words which follow one another in direct succession
-without any intermediate inflectional elements to modify their meaning.
-Philologists usually call such languages 'root-languages,' because a
-sound complex that carries the essential meaning of a word, apart from
-all modifying elements, is called by their science a verbal root. In
-the Latin word _fero, fer_, meaning 'to bear,' is the root from which
-all modifications of the verb _ferre_ (to carry) are formed by means
-of suffixal elements. If, therefore, a language consists of sound
-complexes having the nature of roots, it is called a root-language.
-As a matter of fact, however, the languages under discussion consist
-purely of detached, monosyllabic _words_; the conception 'root,'
-which itself represents the product of a grammatical analysis of our
-flectional languages, may only improperly be applied to them. Such a
-language is composed of detached monosyllabic words, each of which has
-a meaning, yet none of which falls under any particular grammatical
-category. One and the same monosyllabic word may denote an object,
-an act, or a quality, just as in gesture-language the gesture of
-striking may denote the verb 'to strike' and also the noun 'blow.'
-From this it is evident to what extent the expressions 'root' and
-'root-language' carry over into this primitive language a grammatical
-abstraction which is entirely inappropriate in case they suggest the
-image of a root. This image originated among grammarians at a time
-when the view was current that, just as the stem and branches of a
-plant grow out of its root, so also in the development of a language
-does a word always arise out of a group of either simple or composite
-sounds that embody the main idea. But the component parts of a language
-are certainly not roots in this sense; every simple monosyllabic word
-combines with others, and from this combination there result, in
-part, modifications in meaning, and, in part, sentences. Language,
-thus, does not develop by sprouting and growing, but by agglomeration
-and agglutination. Now, the Soudan languages are characterized by
-the fact that they possess very few such fixed combinations in which
-the individual component parts have lost their independence. In this
-respect, accordingly, they resemble gesture-language. The latter also
-is unfamiliar with grammatical categories in so far as these apply to
-the words themselves; the very same signs denote objects, actions, and
-qualities--indeed, generally even that for which in our language we
-employ particles. This agreement with gesture-language is brought home
-to us most strikingly if we consider the words which the primitive
-spoken languages employ for newly formed ideas--such, for instance,
-as refer to previously unknown objects of culture. Here it appears
-that the speaker always forms the new conception by combining into a
-series those ideas with which he is more familiar. When schools were
-introduced into Togo, for example, and a word for 'slate-pencil' became
-necessary, the Togo negroes called it 'stone scratch something'--that
-is, a stone with which we scratch something. Similarly 'kitchen,' an
-arrangement unknown to these tribes, was referred to as 'place cook
-something'; 'nail,' as 'iron head broad.' The single word always
-stands for a sensibly perceptual object, and the new conception is
-formed, not, as epistemologists commonly suppose, by means of a
-comparison of various objects, but by arranging in sequence those
-perceptual ideas whose combined characteristics constitute the
-conception. The same is true with regard to the expressions for such
-thought relations as are variously indicated in our language by the
-inflections of substantive, adjective, and verb. The Soudan languages
-make no unambiguous distinction between noun and verb. Much less are
-the cases of the substantive, or the moods and tenses of the verb,
-distinguished; to express these distinctions, separate words are always
-used. Thus, 'the house of the king' is rendered as 'house belong king.'
-The conception of case is here represented by an independent perception
-that crowds in between the two ideas which it couples together. The
-other cases are, as a rule, not expressed at all, but are implied in
-the connection. Similarly, verbs possess no future tense to denote
-future time. Here also a separate word is introduced, one that may be
-rendered by 'come.' 'I go come' means 'I shall go'; or, to mention
-the preterit, 'I go earlier' means 'I went.' Past time, however, may
-also be expressed by the immediate repetition of the word, a sensibly
-perceptual sign, as it were, that the action is completed. When the
-Togo negro says 'I eat,' this means 'I am on the point of eating'; when
-he says 'I eat eat,' it means 'I have eaten.'
-
-But ideas of such acts and conditions as are in themselves of a
-perceptual nature are also occasionally expressed by combining several
-elements which are obtained by discriminating the separate parts of
-a perceptual image. The idea to bring, for example, is expressed by
-the Togo negro as 'take, go, give.' In bringing something to some
-one, one must first take it, then go to him and give it to him. It
-therefore happens that the word 'go,' in particular, is frequently
-added even where we find no necessity for especially emphasizing the
-act of going. Thus, the Togo negro would very probably express the
-sentence, 'The angry teacher strikes the child,' in the following
-way: 'Man-school-angry-go-strike-child.' This is the succession
-that directly presents itself to one who thinks in pictures, and it
-therefore finds expression in language. Whenever conceptions require
-a considerable number of images in order to be made picturable,
-combinations that are equivalent to entire sentences may result in a
-similar manner. Thus, the Togo negro expresses the concept 'west' by
-the words 'sun-sit-place'--that is, the place where the sun sits down.
-He thinks of the sun as a personal being who, after completing his
-journey, here takes a seat.
-
-These illustrations may suffice to indicate the simplicity and at the
-same time the complexity of such a language. It is simple, in that it
-lacks almost all grammatical distinctions; it is complicated, because,
-in its constant reliance on sensibly perceptual images, it analyses our
-concepts into numerous elements. This is true not merely of abstract
-concepts, which these languages, as a rule, do not possess, but even
-of concrete empirical concepts. We need only refer to the verb 'to
-bring,' reduced to the form of three verbs, or the concept 'west,' for
-whose expression there is required not only the sun and the location
-which we must give it but also its act of seating itself. In all of
-these traits, then, primitive language is absolutely at one with
-gesture-language.
-
-The same is true of the syntax of the two kinds of language. This also
-is no more irregular and accidental in the Soudan language than it is
-in gesture-language. As a rule, indeed, it is stricter than the syntax
-of our languages, for in the latter inflection makes possible a certain
-variation in the arrangement of words within a sentence according
-to the particular shade of meaning desired. In primitive language,
-the arrangement is much more uniform, being governed absolutely and
-alone by the same law as prevails in gesture-language--namely, the
-arrangement of words in their perceptual order. Without exception,
-therefore, object precedes attribute, and substantive, adjective.
-Less constant, however, is the relation of verb and object, in the
-Ewe language; the verb generally precedes, but the object may come
-first; the verb, however, always follows the subject whose action it
-expresses. This perceptual character of primitive language appears most
-strikingly when we translate any thought that is at all complicated
-from a primitive language into our own, first in its general meaning,
-and then word for word. Take an illustration from the language of the
-Bushmen. The meaning would be substantially this: 'The Bushman was
-at first received kindly by the white man in order that he might be
-brought to herd his sheep; then the white man maltreated the Bushman;
-the latter ran away, whereupon the white man took another Bushman, who
-suffered the same experience,' The language of the Bushmen expresses
-this in the following way: 'Bushman-there-go, here-run-to-white man,
-white man-give-tobacco, Bushman-go-smoke, go-fill-tobacco-pouch,
-white man-give-meat-Bushman, Bushman-go-eat-meat, stand-up-go-home,
-go happily, go-sit-down, herd-sheep-white man, white man-go-strike
-Bushman, Bushman-cry-loud-pain, Bushman-go-run-away-white man, white
-man-run-after-Bushman, Bushman-then-another, this one-herd-sheep,
-Bushman-all-gone.' In this complaint of the man of nature against his
-oppressor, everything is concrete, perceptual. He does not say, The
-Bushman was at first kindly taken up by the white man, but, The white
-man gives him tobacco, he fills his pouch and smokes; the white man
-gives him meat, he eats this and is happy, etc. He does not say, The
-white man maltreats the Bushman, but, He strikes him, the Bushman
-cries with pain, etc. What we express in relatively abstract concepts
-is entirely reduced by him to separate perceptual images. His thought
-always attaches to individual objects. Moreover, just as primitive
-language has no specific means for expressing a verb, so also are
-change and action overshadowed in primitive thought by the concrete
-image. The thinking itself, therefore, may be called _concrete_.
-Primitive man sees the image with its separate parts; and, as he sees
-it, so he reproduces it in his language. It is for this very reason
-that he is unfamiliar with differences of grammatical categories and
-with abstract concepts. Sequence is still governed entirely by the
-pure association of ideas, whose order is determined by perception
-and by the recollection of that which has been experienced. The above
-narrative of the Bushman expresses no unitary thought, but image
-follows upon image in the order in which these appear to consciousness.
-Thus, the thinking of primitive man is almost exclusively associative.
-Of the more perfect form of combining concepts, the apperceptive, which
-unites the thoughts into a systematic whole, there are as yet only
-traces, such as occur in the combination of the separate memory images.
-
-Many analogues to the formal characteristics of primitive thought
-revealed in these linguistic phenomena may be met in child-language.
-There is a wide divergence, however, with respect to the very
-element which has already disappeared, with the exception of slight
-traces, from the language of primitive peoples. I refer to the
-close correlation of sound and meaning. As regards this feature,
-child-language is much more similar to gesture-language than is
-possible in the case of forms of speech that have undergone a long
-historical development. For, child-language, like gesture-language, is,
-in a certain sense, continually being created anew. Of course, it is
-not created, as is sometimes supposed, by the children themselves. It
-is a conventionalized language of the mothers and nurses who converse
-with the child, supplemented, in part, by the child's associates along
-the lines of these traditional models. The sound-complexes signifying
-animals, 'bow-wow' for the dog, 'hott-hott' for the horse, 'tuk-tuk'
-for the chicken, etc., as also 'papa' and 'mamma' for father and
-mother, are sounds that are in some way fitted to the meaning and at
-the same time resemble so far as possible the babbling sounds of the
-child. But this entire process is instituted by the child's associates,
-and is at most supplemented by the child himself to the extent of a few
-incidental elements. For this reason, child-language has relatively
-little to teach us concerning the development of speaking and
-thinking; those psychologists and teachers who believe that it affords
-an important source of information concerning the origin of thought
-are in error. Such information can be gained only from those modes of
-expressing thought which, like gesture-language, are originated anew
-by the speaker and are not externally derived, or from those which,
-like the spoken languages of primitive peoples, have retained, in their
-essential characteristics, primitive modes of thinking. Even in these
-cases it is only the _forms_ of thought that are thus discoverable. The
-content, as is implied by the formal characteristics themselves, is, of
-course, also of a sense-perceptual, not of a conceptual, nature. And
-yet the particular character or quality of this content is not inherent
-in the forms of the language as such. To gain a knowledge of its nature
-we must examine the specific ideas themselves and the associated
-feelings and emotions.
-
-Thus, then, the further question arises: Wherein consists the content
-of primitive thought? _Two_ sorts of ideas may be distinguished. The
-one comprises that stock of ideas which is supplied to consciousness
-by the direct perceptions of daily life--ideas such as go, stand, lie,
-rest, etc., together with animal, tree (particularly in the form of
-individual animals and trees), man, woman, child, I, thou, you, and
-many others. These are objects of everyday perception that are familiar
-to all, even to the primitive mind. But there is also a _second_ class
-of ideas. These do not represent things of immediate perception;
-briefly expressed, they originate in feeling, in emotional processes
-which are projected outward into the environment. This is an important
-and particularly characteristic group of primitive ideas. Included
-within it are all references to that which is not directly amenable
-to perception but, transcending this, is really _supersensuous_,
-even though appearing in the form of sensible ideas. This world of
-imagination, projected from man's own emotional life into external
-phenomena, is what we mean by _mythological_ thinking. The things and
-processes given to perception are supplemented by other realities that
-are of a non-perceptible nature and therefore belong to an invisible
-realm back of the visible world. These are the elements, furthermore,
-which very early find expression in the _art_ of primitive man.
-
-
-
-7. EARLIEST BELIEFS IN MAGIC AND DEMONS.
-
-
-In entering upon a consideration of the development of primitive myths,
-we are at once confronted by the old question disputed by mythologists,
-ethnologists, and students of religion, Where and when did religion
-originate? For is not religion always concerned with the supernatural?
-Now, in certain cases, even primitive man supplements the sensuous
-world in which he lives and whose impressions he has not so much as
-elaborated into abstract concepts, with supersensuous elements, though
-he himself, of course, is unaware of their supersensuous character. The
-question, therefore, lies near at hand: Is religion already present at
-this stage, or is there at most a potentiality of religion, the germ
-of its future development? If the latter should be true, where, then,
-does religion begin? Now, our interest in the history of myth-formation
-derives largely from the very fact that the problem is intimately bound
-up with that of the origin of religion. Merely in itself the origin of
-the myth might have relatively little interest for us. The question,
-however, as to how religion arose acquires its great importance through
-its connection with the two further questions as to whether or not
-religion is a necessary constituent of human consciousness and whether
-it is an original possession or is the result of certain preconditions
-of mythological thought.
-
-It is interesting to follow this ancient dispute, particularly its
-course during the last few decades. In 1880, Roskoff wrote a book
-entitled "The Religion of the Most Primitive Nature-Peoples." In this
-work he assembled all the available facts, and came to the conclusion
-that no peoples exist who have not some form of religion. About
-ten years ago, however, the two Sarasins, students of Ceylon and
-of the primitive Veddah tribes, summed up their conclusions in the
-proposition: The Veddahs have no religion. If, however, we compare
-Roskoff's facts concerning primitive peoples with those reported
-by the Sarasins concerning the belief of the Veddahs in demons and
-magic, it appears that the facts mentioned by these investigators are
-essentially the same. What the former calls religion, the latter call
-belief in magic; but in neither case is there a statement as to what
-is really meant by religion. Now, we cannot, of course, come to an
-understanding with reference to the presence or absence of anything
-until we are agreed as to what the thing itself really is. Hence, the
-question under dispute is raised prematurely at the present stage of
-our discussion; it can be answered only after we have examined more
-of the steps in the development of myth and of the preconditions of
-the religion of later times. We shall therefore recur to this point in
-our third chapter, after we have become acquainted with such religions
-as may indubitably lay claim to the name. Postponing the question for
-the present, we will designate the various phenomena that must be
-discussed at this point by the specific names attaching to them on the
-basis of their peculiar characteristics. In this sense, there is no
-doubt that we may speak of ideas of magic and of demons even in the
-case of primitive peoples; it is generally conceded that such ideas
-are universally entertained at this stage of culture. But the further
-question at once arises as to the source of this belief in magic and
-in demons, and as to the influences by which it is sustained. Now, in
-respect to this point _two_ views prevail, even among the ethnologists
-who have made an intensive study of primitive peoples. The one view
-may briefly be called that of nature-mythology. It assumes that even
-far back under early conditions the phenomena of the heavens were the
-objects that peculiarly fascinated the thought of man and elevated it
-above its immediate sensible environment. All mythology, therefore, is
-supposed originally to have been mythology of nature, particularly of
-the heavens. Doubtless this would already involve a religious element,
-or, at least, a religious tendency. The second view carries us even
-farther in the same direction. It holds that the ideas of primitive
-man, so far as they deal with the supersensuous, are simpler than
-those of the more highly developed peoples. Just for this reason,
-however, it regards these ideas as more perfect and as approaching more
-nearly the beliefs of the higher religions. As a matter of fact, if we
-compare, let us say, the Semangs and the Senoi, or the Veddahs, with
-the natives of Australia, we find a very great difference as regards
-this point. Even the mythology of the Australians is undoubtedly much
-more complex than that of these peoples of nature, and the farther
-we trace this myth development the greater the complexity becomes.
-That which is simple, however, is supposed to be also the higher and
-the more exalted, just as it is the more primitive. The beginning is
-supposed to anticipate the end, as a revelation not yet distorted by
-human error. For, the highest form of religion is not a mythology
-including a multitude of gods, but the belief in _one_ God--that is,
-monotheism. It was believed, therefore, that the very discovery of
-primitive man offered new support for this view. This theory, however,
-is bound up with an important anthropological consideration--the
-question concerning the place of the so-called _Pygmies_ in the
-history of human development. It was on the basis of their physical
-characteristics that these dwarf peoples of Africa and Asia, of whom
-it is only in comparatively recent times that we have gained any
-considerable knowledge, were first declared by Julius Kollman to
-be the childhood peoples of humanity, who everywhere preceded the
-races of larger stature. Such childhood characteristics, indeed, are
-revealed not only in their small stature but in other traits as well.
-Schweinfurth observed that the entire skin of the Pygmies of Central
-Africa is covered with fine, downy hair, much as is that of the newly
-born child. It is by means of these downy hairs that the Monbuttu negro
-of that region distinguishes the Pygmy from a youth of his own tribe.
-The Negrito is primitive also in that his dermal glands are abnormally
-active, causing a bodily odour which is far greater than that of
-the negro, and which, just as in the case of some animals, increases
-noticeably under the stress of emotion. If, in addition to these
-physical characteristics, we consider the low cultural level of all
-these dwarf peoples, the hypothesis that the Pygmies are a primitive
-people does not, indeed, seem altogether strange. Starting with this
-hypothesis, therefore, William Schmidt, in his work, "The Place of the
-Pygmies in the Development of Mankind" (1910), attempted to prove the
-proposition that the Pygmies are the childhood peoples of humanity
-in their mental culture no less than in their physical development.
-This being their nature, they are, of course, limited intellectually;
-morally, however, they are in a state of innocence, as is demonstrated
-among other things by the pure monogamy prevailing among them, as well
-as by their highest possession, their monotheistic belief.
-
-Now, the supposition of moral innocence rests essentially on the
-twofold assumption of the identity of primitive man with the Pygmy
-and of the legitimacy of holding that what has been observed of _one_
-tribe of Pygmies is true of the primitive condition generally. But
-this identity of primitive man with the Pygmy cannot be maintained.
-The most typical traits of primitive mental culture are doubtless to
-be found among the Veddahs of Ceylon. The Veddahs, however, are not
-really Pygmies, but are of large stature. Moreover, there are primitive
-people who are so far from being Pygmies that they belong rather to
-the tall races. We might cite the extinct Tasmanians, whose culture
-was probably a stage lower than that of the modern Australians. In
-most respects, many of the tribes of Central Australia exhibit traits
-of primitive culture, even though their social organization is of a
-far more complicated nature. Finally, all the peoples whose remains
-have been found in the oldest diluvial deposits of Europe belong to
-the tall races. On the other hand, there are peoples of small stature,
-the Chinese and the Japanese, who must be counted in the first ranks
-of cultured peoples. Thus, mental culture certainly cannot be measured
-in terms of physical size but only in terms of itself. Mental values
-can never be determined except by mental characteristics. It is true
-that W. Schmidt has sought to support his theory regarding the Pygmies
-by reference to the reports of E.H. Man, a reliable English observer.
-According to these reports, the Andamanese, one of these dwarf peoples,
-possess some remarkable legends that are doubtless indicative of
-monotheistic ideas. Since the Andamans are a group of islands in the
-Sea of Bengal and the inhabitants are therefore separated from other
-peoples by an expanse of sea, Schmidt regarded as justifiable the
-assumption that these legends were autochthonous; since, moreover, the
-legends centre about the belief in a supreme god, he contended that we
-here finally had proof of the theory of an original monotheism. The
-main outlines of the Andamanese legends as given by E.H. Man are as
-follows: The supreme god, Puluga, first created man and subsequently
-(though with regard to this there are various versions) he created
-woman. She was either created directly, as was man, or man himself
-created her out of a piece of wood, possibly a reminiscence of Adam's
-rib. Then God gave man laws forbidding theft, murder, adultery,
-etc., forbidding him, furthermore, to eat of the fruits of the first
-rainy season. But man did not keep the Divine commandments. The Lord
-therefore sent a universal flood, in which perished all living things
-with the exception of two men and two women who happened to be in
-a boat. In this story, much is naturally distorted, confused, and
-adapted to the medium into which the legend is transplanted. But that
-it points to the Biblical accounts of the Creation, Paradise, and the
-Flood, there cannot, in my opinion, be the slightest doubt. If it
-is objected that the Andamans are altogether too far separated from
-the rest of the world by the sea, and also that no missionaries have
-ever been seen on these islands, our answer would be: Whatever may be
-the 'when' and the 'how,' the _fact that_ the Biblical tradition at
-some time did come to the Andamanese is proven by the legend itself.
-This conclusion is just as incontestable as is the inference, for
-example, that the correspondence of certain South American and Asiatic
-myths is proof of a transmission. Indeed, the two latter regions are
-separated by an incomparably wider expanse of sea than that which
-divides the Andamans from Indo-China and its neighbouring islands.
-It should also be added that the inhabitants of the Andaman Islands
-have obviously progressed far beyond the condition in which we find
-the inland tribes of Malacca, the Veddahs of Ceylon, or the Negritos
-of the Philippines. They practise the art of making pottery--an art
-never found among peoples who are properly called primitive; they have
-a social organization, with chiefs. These phenomena all characterize
-a fairly advanced culture. When, therefore, we are concerned with
-the beliefs of peoples who are really primitive, the Andamanese must
-be left out of consideration. According to the available proofs,
-however, these people possess a belief neither in one god nor in many
-gods. Moreover, even far beyond the most primitive stage, no coherent
-celestial mythology may be found, such as could possibly be regarded
-as an incipient polytheism. No doubt, there are ideas concerning
-single heavenly phenomena, but these always betray an association with
-terrestrial objects, particularly with human beings or animals. And,
-to all appearances, these ideas change with great rapidity. Nowhere
-have they led to the actual formation of myths. Among the Indians of
-the Brazilian forests, for example, the sun and moon are called leaves
-or feather-balls; by several of the Soudan tribes they are conceived
-as balls that have been thrown to the sky by human beings and have
-stuck there. Such ideas alternate with others in which the sun and
-moon are regarded as brothers or as brother and sister, or the sun is
-said to be chasing the moon--images influenced particularly by the
-phenomena of the moon's phases. As a matter of fact, this whole field
-of ideas reveals only _one_ belief that is practically universal,
-appearing among peoples of nature and recurring even among civilized
-peoples. Because of the rare occurrence of the phenomenon, however,
-it has never led to a real mythology. I refer to the belief that in an
-eclipse of the sun, the sun is swallowed by a dark demon. This belief,
-obviously, is very readily suggested to the primitive imagination;
-it occurs in Central Africa, in Australia, and in America, and is
-found even in Indian mythology. Taken by itself, however, the notion
-is incapable of engendering a myth. It is to be regarded merely as
-an isolated case to be classed with a more richly developed set of
-demon-ideas that dominate the daily life of primitive man. At this
-stage, these ideas are the only elements of an incipient mythology that
-are clearly discernible and that at the same time exercise an important
-influence upon life. In so far as the mythology of primitive man gains
-a permanent foothold and influence, it consists of a _belief in magic
-and demons_. There are, however, two motives which engender this belief
-and give form and colour to the ideas and emotions springing from them.
-These are _death_ and _sickness_.
-
-Death! There are doubtless few impressions that have so powerful an
-effect upon the man of nature; indeed, civilized man as well is still
-very greatly stirred by the phenomenon of death. Let his companion
-meet with death, and even the outward actions of a primitive man
-are significant. The moment a person dies, the immediate impulse of
-primitive man is to leave him lying where he is and to flee. The
-dead person is abandoned, and the place where he died continues to
-be avoided for a long time--if possible, until animals have devoured
-the corpse. Obviously the emotion of _fear_ is regnant. Its immediate
-cause is apparently the unusual and fear-inspiring changes which death
-makes in the appearance of a man. The suspension of movements, the
-pallor of death, the sudden cessation of breathing--these are phenomena
-sufficient to cause the most extreme terror. But what is the nature of
-the ideas that associate themselves with this fearsome impression? The
-flight from the corpse is evidence that man's fears are primarily for
-himself. To tarry in the presence of a dead person exposes the living
-man to the danger of being himself overtaken by death. The source of
-this danger is evidently identical with that which has brought death
-to the recently deceased person himself. Primitive man cannot think
-of death except as the sudden departure from the dying person of that
-which originally brought life. Nevertheless, there is evidently bound
-up with this conception the further idea that powers of life are still
-resident in the body; the latter remains firmly associated in the mind
-of primitive man with the impression of life. Here, then, we have the
-original source of the contradictory idea of a something that generates
-life and is therefore independent of the body, while nevertheless being
-connected with it. So far as we can gain knowledge of the impression
-which death makes on the mind of primitive man, two disparate motives
-are indissolubly united. He regards life as something that, in part,
-continues in some mysterious manner to dwell within the corpse, and,
-in part, hovers about, invisible, in its vicinity. For this reason,
-the dead person becomes to him a _demon_, an invisible being capable
-of seizing upon man, of overpowering or killing him, or of bringing
-sickness upon him. In addition to this primitive idea of demons, we
-also find the conception of a _corporeal soul_, meaning by this the
-belief that the body is the vehicle of life, and that, so long as it
-has not itself disappeared, it continues to harbour the life within
-itself. The corporeal soul is here still regarded as a unit which
-may, by separating itself from the body, become a demon and pass over
-into another person. No certain traces are as yet to be found of
-belief in a breath or shadow-like soul. As will appear later, this is
-a characteristic feature of the transition from primitive to totemic
-culture. When some investigators report that the soul is occasionally
-referred to by the Semangs of Malacca as a small bird that soars into
-the air at the death of a person, it is not improbable that we here
-have to do either with the Semangs of culture, who have undergone
-marked changes under Malayan influence, or with the presence of an
-isolated idea that belongs to a different cultural circle. For in no
-other case are ideas similar to that of the psyche to be found on
-the level of primitive culture. On the other hand, the burial customs
-of the Malays and of the mixed races living in the immediate vicinity
-of the primitive peoples of the Malay Peninsula, already exhibit a
-striking contrast to the flight of primitive man from the corpse.
-
-The next group of ideas, those arising from the impression made by
-_sickness_, particularly by such sicknesses as attack man suddenly,
-are also restricted to the conception of a corporeal soul. For, one
-of the most characteristic marks of this conception is that magical,
-demoniacal powers are believed to issue from the body of the dead
-person. These powers, however, are not, as occurs in the above case,
-regarded as embodied in any visible thing--such as the exhalations
-of the breath or an escaping animal--that separates itself from the
-person. On the contrary, the demon that leaves the corpse and attacks
-another person in the form of a fatal sickness, is invisible. He is
-purely the result of an association between the fear aroused by the
-occurrence of death and the fright caused by an unexpected attack
-of sickness. The dead person, therefore, continues to remain the
-seat of demoniacal powers; these he can repeatedly direct against
-the living persons who approach him. Primitive man believes that the
-demon may assume any form whatsoever within the body, and deceitful
-medicine-men take advantage of this in ostensibly removing the sickness
-in the form of a piece of wood or of a stone. But it is precisely
-these ideas that are totally unrelated to that of a psyche and its
-embodiments. Though the corpse is perhaps the earliest object that
-suggests sickness-demons, it is in no wise the only one. Indeed, the
-attack of sickness is in itself sufficient to arouse fear of a demon.
-Thus, the Semangs and Senoi distinguish a vast number of different
-sickness-demons. Such ideas of demons, however, as we find among the
-Malays and the Singhalese, where demons are regarded as counter-agents
-to sickness-magic and usually take the form of fantastical animal
-monsters, never occur except at a later cultural stage. Any resemblance
-of these demons to 'soul animals,' which, as we shall find in our next
-chapter, are always actual animals, is confined to the fact that they
-have some similarity to animals. Obviously they are creations of the
-imagination, due to fear and terror. Their only difference from the
-monsters of similar origin that are projected into the outward world is
-that they are reduced to proportions which fit the dimensions of the
-human body.
-
-Closely connected with the magic of sickness is counter-magic, an
-agency by which disease is removed or the attack of sickness-demons
-warded off. Even primitive man seeks for such modes of relief. Hence,
-probably, the original formation of a special group of men, which,
-though not, of course, at the very first a fixed professional class,
-was nevertheless the precursor of the latter. Among the American
-Indians, these were the 'medicine-men'; the peoples of northern Asia
-called them 'shamans'--more generally expressed, they were magicians.
-The name 'medicine-man,' indeed, is not inappropriate. The medicine-man
-of the savages is, in truth, the predecessor of the modern physician,
-and also, in a certain sense, of the modern priest. He not only
-ministers to the individual whom he restores to health by means of
-his counter-magic, but he can himself directly practise magic. Since
-he has power over demons, he can exorcise them from the body; but he
-can also magically cause them to enter it. Thus, the medicine-man has
-a twofold calling. He is feared, but he is also valued as a helper in
-need. His position differs according as the one or the other emotion
-predominates. He was the first to investigate the effect of herbs on
-man. He probably discovered the poisons, and, by rendering the arrow
-poisonous, gained a still higher authority in the eyes of the savage.
-For the arrow, too, is a means of magic. But he also discovered methods
-of removing poisons, and thereby transformed poisonous plants into
-articles of food. His calling, then, is a supremely important one,
-though also at all times dangerous for the one who practises it. He
-is not only exposed to persecution if he fails to accomplish what is
-expected of him, or if he is suspected of evil magic, but the magician,
-when pressed by need, also becomes a deceiver. The deception of the
-medicine-man, indeed, apparently dates back to the very earliest
-times. Koch-Grünberg tells us that among the Central Brazilians the
-medicine-men expel disease by carrying about with them a piece of wood,
-which they bring forth, after various manipulations, as the alleged
-seat of the demon. If the suggestion thus given is effective, the
-patient may, of course, feel himself improved. At any rate, we must
-not think that the mass of the people is led to lose belief in magic;
-in most cases, perhaps, the medicine-man himself remains a deceived
-deceiver.
-
-Nevertheless, on the primitive stage, death and sickness are the main
-sources of belief in magic and in demons. From this as a centre, the
-belief radiates far out into all departments of life. The belief
-in magic, for example, assumes the form of _protective magic_, of
-magical defence against demoniacal influences. In this form, it
-probably determines the original modes of dress, and, more obviously
-and permanently still, the adornment of the body. In fact, in its
-beginnings, this adornment was really designed less for decoration than
-for purposes of magic.
-
-In connection with the external culture of primitive man we have
-already noted his meagre dress, which frequently consisted merely of a
-cord of bast about the loins, with leaves suspended from it. What was
-the origin of this dress? In the tropical regions, where primitive man
-lives, it was surely not the result of need for protection; nor can we
-truthfully ascribe it to modesty, as is generally done on the ground
-that it is the genital parts that are most frequently covered. In
-estimating the causes, the questions of primary importance are rather
-those as to where the very first traces of dress appear and of what
-its most permanent parts consist. The answer to the latter question,
-however, is to be found not in the apron but in the _loin-cord_, which
-is occasionally girt about the hips without any further attempt at
-dress. Obviously this was not a means of protection against storm and
-cold; nor can modesty be said to have factored in the development of
-this article, which serves the purposes both of dress and of adornment.
-But what was its real meaning? An incident from the life of the Veddahs
-may perhaps furnish the answer to this question. When the Veddah enters
-into marriage, he binds a cord about the loins of his prospective
-wife. Obviously this is nothing else than a form of the widely current
-'cord-magic,' which plays a not inconsiderable rôle even in present-day
-superstition. Cord-magic aims to bring about certain results by means
-of a firmly fastened cord. This cord is not a symbol, but is, as all
-symbols originally were, a means of magic. When a cord is fastened
-about a diseased part of the body and then transferred to a tree, it
-is commonly believed that the sickness is magically transplanted into
-the tree. If the tree is regarded as representing an enemy, moreover,
-this act, by a further association, is believed to transfer sickness
-or death to the enemy through the agency of the tree. The cord-magic
-of the Veddah is obviously of a simpler nature than this. By means of
-the cord which he has himself fastened, the Veddah endeavours to secure
-the faithfulness of his wife. The further parts of primitive dress
-were developments of the loin-cord, and were worn suspended from it.
-Coincidentally with this, the original means of adornment make their
-appearance. Necklaces and bracelets, which have remained favourite
-articles of feminine adornment even within our present culture, and
-fillets about the head which, among some of the peoples of nature, are
-likewise worn chiefly by the women, are further developments of the
-loin-cord, transferred, as it were, to other parts of the body. And,
-as the first clothing was attached to the loin-cord, so also were the
-bracelet and fillet, and particularly the necklace, employed to carry
-other early means of protective magic, namely, amulets. Gradually the
-latter also developed into articles of adornment, preferably worn, even
-to-day, about the neck.
-
-The assumption that the present purpose of clothing is also the
-end that it originally served led naturally to the theory that when
-the loin-cord alone is worn--as a mere indication, seemingly, of
-the absence of clothing--this is to be regarded not as an original
-custom but as the remnant of an earlier dress now serving solely as an
-adornment. But this supposition is contradicted, in the first place,
-by the fact that the loin-cord occasionally occurs by itself precisely
-amidst the most primitive conditions, and, in the second place, by the
-general development not only of clothing as such but also of certain
-means of adorning the surface of the body, particularly painting and
-tattooing. Now, there is a general rule that development proceeds not
-from the composite to the simple, but, conversely, from the simple
-to the complex. Moreover, indications of the influence of magical
-ideas are generally the more marked according as the stages on which
-the phenomenal occur are the earlier. The loin-cord, particularly,
-is occasionally put to certain magical uses which are scarcely
-intelligible without reference to the widely prevalent cord-magic. If
-the binding of a cord of bast of his own weaving about the hips of
-his prospective wife signifies a sort of marriage ceremony for the
-Veddah, as it undoubtedly does, this must imply that the cord is a
-means of magic that binds her for life. Instances have been found of
-another remarkable and complex custom that substantiates this 'magical'
-interpretation. A man binds a loin-cord of his own weaving about the
-woman and she does the same to him--an exchange of magic-working
-fetters which is a striking anticipation of the exchange of rings
-still customary with us upon betrothal or marriage. For the exchange
-of rings, to a certain extent, represents in miniature the exchange
-of cords practised by primitive man, though there is, of course,
-this enormous difference that, in the primitive ceremony the binding
-has a purely magical significance, whereas the later act is merely
-symbolical. All these phenomena indicate that even the beginnings of
-clothing involve ideas of magic. Later, of course, a number of other
-motives also enter in, gradually leading to a change in meaning and
-to a wide departure from the idea originally entertained. Owing to
-the influence of climatic changes, there arises, in the first place,
-the need of protection; and the greater this becomes, the more does
-magic recede. And so, even among primitive tribes, the loin-cord is
-gradually replaced by the apron proper, which no longer requires a
-special cord for its support. In the course of this transition into a
-means of protection, the feeling of modesty more and more enters into
-the development as a contributing factor. According to a law operative
-everywhere, even under very different conditions, modesty is always
-connected with such parts of the body as are required by custom to be
-kept covered. To do what custom forbids arouses the feeling of shame,
-particularly in such cases as this, where the violation is so direct
-and apparent. It is for this reason that the feeling of shame may be
-aroused by the exposure of very different parts of the body. Thus, the
-Hottentot woman wears an apron in front and also one behind. The latter
-covers a cushion of fat over the seat, which is greatly developed in
-the case of the Hottentot woman and is regarded by these tribes as a
-particular mark of beauty. To a Hottentot woman it is no worse to have
-the front apron removed than for some one to take away the rear apron.
-In the latter case, she seats herself on the ground and cannot be
-made to get up until the apron has been restored to her. When Leonard
-Schultze was travelling in the Hottentot country of Namaqua Land, he
-noticed a certain Hottentot custom which strictly prescribes that the
-legs must be stretched out when one sits down upon the ground--they are
-not to be bent at the knees. When one of his companions, unfamiliar
-with the custom, sat differently, a Hottentot struck him on the knees
-so that they straightened out; when the reason was asked, the answer
-was that "this manner of sitting brings misfortune." The reply is
-significant, particularly because it shows how the feeling of shame,
-which arises at a later period in the development of the original idea
-of magic and is due to the influence of custom, itself, in turn, reacts
-associatively on the older magical ideas. The violation of custom is
-regarded as dangerous, and as a matter requiring, wherever possible,
-the employment of protective magic. The reasons for guarding against a
-violation of custom are not merely subjective, but also objective, for
-guilt is followed by punishment. Thus, there is here an intertwining of
-motives.
-
-The necklace, bracelet, finger-ring, and sometimes the head-fillet,
-occur as specific means of magic, in addition to, and in substitution
-for, the loin-cord. In more restricted localities we find also earrings
-and nose-rings, the boring through of the lips, and combs to which
-twigs and leaves are attached. Of these, the necklace has maintained
-itself far down into later culture, for it is the necklace that gives
-support to the amulet. The latter is supposed to afford protective
-magic against all possible dangers; the finger-ring, on the other
-hand, is the favourite vehicle of an active magic, changing things
-in accordance with the wishes of the owner--that is to say, it is a
-talisman. Similar in its powers to the necklace, furthermore, is the
-bracelet--found even in primitive culture--and also the head-fillet,
-which encircles the forehead and the back part of the head. The Semangs
-and Senoi of the Malaccan forests are invested with the head-fillet
-by the medicine-man, who exchanges it for another at particularly
-important turning-points of life, such, for example, as the entrance
-of the youth into manhood, or of the woman upon marriage. The
-head-fillets that have been removed are preserved in the house of the
-medicine-man. If the woman is widowed, her former fillet is placed
-on her head. This signifies the annulment of the magical union that
-existed throughout the period of marriage. Evidently this magic custom
-is closely connected with the strict observance of monogamy. These
-ceremonial changes in dress are accompanied by a similar change in
-name. On entering the married state a woman changes her name, as does
-also the youth who passes into manhood. Moreover, this change is not in
-the least a mere symbol, but represents a magical act. With the change
-in name, the individual himself becomes another person. The name is
-so closely connected with the person that even the speaking of it may
-exercise a magical influence upon him.
-
-But the magical ideas radiating from death and sickness come to be
-associated also with other external objects--objects not attached
-to the individual's person, as are clothing and adornment. Examples
-of this are implements, and, in particular, the weapon of primitive
-man, namely, the bow and arrow. The magical significance has, of
-course, frequently disappeared from the memory of the natives. The
-Sarasins saw the Veddahs execute dances about an arrow that had been
-set upright. On inquiring, the reason, they were told: 'This was done
-even by our fathers and grandfathers; why should we not also do it?'
-A similar answer could be given in the case of many, indeed, of most
-of these magical ceremonies. Those ceremonies particularly that are
-in any way complicated are passed down from generation to generation,
-being scrupulously guarded and occasionally augmented by additional
-magical elements. It is for this reason that, in the presence of the
-extraordinarily complicated dances and magical ceremonies of primitive
-peoples, we sometimes ask in amazement: How could such a wealth of
-connected ideas possibly arise and become expressed in action? To this
-it might briefly be replied that they did not arise at all as creations
-of a single moment. The meaning of the ceremonies has for the most
-part long been lost to the participants themselves, and was probably
-unknown even to their ancestors. The general reason for the various
-acts that are executed according to ancient usage is that they serve
-a magical purpose. The performers firmly believe that the acts will
-secure that which is desired, whether it be good fortune or protection
-from evil, and that the greater the care and exactitude with which
-the act is performed, the more certainly will the magical purpose be
-attained. The conditions here are really not essentially different from
-those that still prevail everywhere in the cult ceremonies of civilized
-peoples. It is the very fact that the motives are forgotten that leads
-to the enormous complexity of the phenomena. Even in the case of
-the above-mentioned dance about the arrow, there may have entered a
-considerable number of motives that were later forgotten. Of them all,
-nothing was eventually remembered except that, to insure the welfare of
-the individual and that of the group, the act prescribed by custom must
-be performed at stated times or under particular conditions.
-
-Quite secondary to these numerous irradiations of magical ideas among
-primitive peoples are the general notions connected with natural
-phenomena. A cloud may, no doubt, occasionally be regarded as a
-demon. And, as already stated, an unusual natural phenomenon, such as
-an eclipse of the sun, is likewise almost everywhere regarded as a
-demoniacal event. But, on the whole, celestial phenomena play a passing
-and an exceedingly variable rôle in the beliefs of primitive man.
-Moreover, while the ideas and the resultant acts engendered by death
-and sickness are, on the whole, of a uniform character, the fragments
-of celestial mythology vary in an irregular and self-contradictory
-manner. For this reason the latter cannot be regarded as having any
-important significance on the earliest plane of culture. This flatly
-contradicts a theory, still prevalent in the scientific world, to
-the effect that all mythological thinking is due to the influence of
-celestial phenomena, whether it be the moon in its changing phases,
-or the sun, the thunderstorm, or the clouds. This theory is certainly
-not valid as regards primitive man. It can be maintained only if
-we distinguish--as has, indeed, sometimes been done--between two
-completely disparate realms, a 'higher' mythology, exemplified by the
-above, and a 'lower' mythology. We shall return to this point later. We
-are here concerned with the standpoint of nature-mythology only in so
-far as it has exercised a decisive influence on the interpretation of
-the earliest manifestations of the 'lower' mythology. With respect to
-the ultimate psychological motives of mythology as a whole, including
-that of primitive man, the idea is even to-day widely current that
-mythological thought was from the very beginning a naïve attempt at
-an interpretation of the phenomena which man encounters in nature or
-in his own life. That is to say, all mythology is regarded as a sort
-of primitive science, or, at any rate, as a precursor of philosophy.
-This innate need for explanation is then usually associated with an
-alleged _a priori_ principle of causality inherent in the mind. The
-mythological view of nature, therefore, is supposed to be nothing
-but an application--imperfect as yet, to be sure--of the causal law
-to the nexus of phenomena. But if we call to mind the condition of
-natural man as revealed in his actions, no trace can be found of
-any need for explanation such as requires the initial employment of
-the concept of causality. Indeed, as regards the phenomena of daily
-life and those that surround him on all hands and constantly recur
-in a uniform manner, primitive man experiences no need at all for
-explanation. For him everything is as it is just because it has always
-been so. Just as he dances about an arrow because his father and his
-grandfather practised this custom in the past, so also does he hold
-that the sun rises to-day because it rose yesterday. The regularity
-with which a phenomenon recurs is for him sufficient testimony and
-explanation of its existence. Only that which arouses his emotion and
-calls forth particularly fear and terror comes to be an object of
-magical and demoniacal belief. The primitive level of mythological
-thought differs from the more developed stage in also another respect.
-In the former case, the phenomena that are most apt to arouse ideas
-of magic and of demons are those that concern man himself and that
-arouse fear and terror. But here again death and sickness are of
-greatest importance. True, a thunderstorm may occasionally find a
-place in the nexus of magical ideas, or an eclipse of the sun, or some
-other natural phenomenon--and this occurs the more readily according
-as the phenomenon is the more unusual and striking. The regularly
-recurring features of the primitive myth, however, have their source
-in the immediate environment and in the facts of personal experience,
-in fear and terror. Thus, it is not intelligence nor reflection as
-to the origin and interconnection of phenomena that gives rise to
-mythological thinking, but emotion; ideas are only the material which
-the latter elaborates. The idea of a corporeal soul, present in the
-corpse yet also capable of abandoning it and of becoming a dangerous
-demon, is a creation of the emotion of fear. The demons who possess the
-sick man and cause his death, or who depart from him in convalescence,
-are products of emotion. They are supersensible, as is the soul,
-because they are born purely of emotion. Nevertheless, they always tend
-to assume a sensible nature, being imaged either as men, or as external
-things, such as animals, plants, weapons, and implements. Only in the
-course of later development are the demons themselves equipped with
-relatively permanent qualities that differ from the characteristics of
-the vehicles in which they are regarded as embodied.
-
-Thus, then, we utterly confuse primitive thinking with our own
-scientific standpoint when we explain it by the need for the
-interpretation of phenomena. Causality, in our sense of the word, does
-not exist for primitive man. If we would speak of causality at all
-on his level of experience, we may say only that he is governed by
-the causality of magic. This, however, receives its stamp, not from
-the laws that regulate the connection of ideas, but from the forces
-of emotion. The mythological causality of emotional magic is no less
-spasmodic and irregular than the logical causality arising out of
-the orderly sequence of perceptions and ideas is constant. That the
-former preceded the latter is, nevertheless, of great importance.
-For the causality of natural law, as we know it, would hardly have
-been possible had not magical causality prepared the way for it. Yet
-the later arose from the earlier just at that moment in which the
-attention of men ceased to be held by the unusual, the startling,
-and the fearful, and occupied itself with the orderly, the regular,
-and commonplace. For this reason the very greatest advance in the
-investigation of natural laws was made by Galileo, when he took as
-the object of his research that which was the most commonplace, the
-falling of a body to the earth. Primitive man did not reflect about
-this phenomenon nor, until a long time afterwards, did civilized
-man. That a body should fall to the earth when thrown upwards 'is
-self-evident' because it is thus that bodies have always acted. An
-echo of this primitive view remains even in the older physics, which,
-following Aristotle, tells us that a body falls because the centre of
-the earth is its natural point of rest--that is, to put it otherwise,
-it must behave as it does because it has always done so.
-
-
-
-8. THE BEGINNINGS OF ART.
-
-
-Though mythological thinking, particularly on the level of belief in
-demons and magic, has but slight connection with later science, it
-stands in close relation to the beginnings of _art_. This relation
-appears, among other things, in the fact that the simplest forms of
-the one are connected with the simplest forms of the other. This
-connection is twofold. Ideas of magic are, in a certain sense,
-projected into the products of art; art, on the other hand, being the
-means whereby mythological thinking finds expression, reacts upon
-magical ideas and brings about an enhancement of their motives. This
-is particularly apparent, in the beginnings of art, in the fact that,
-as viewed by civilized man, primitive peoples have brought but _one_
-art to a high degree of perfection, the _art of dancing_. For no other
-form of artistic expression is early man better endowed. His body is
-incomparably more supple than that of civilized races. The life of the
-forest, the climbing of trees, and the capturing of game qualify him
-for performances that would prove difficult to a modern art-dancer. All
-who have witnessed the dancing of men of nature have marvelled at their
-great skill and dexterity, and especially at their wonderful ability
-in respect to postures, movements, and mimetic expression. Originally,
-the dance was a means for the attainment of magical ends, as we may
-conjecture from the fact that even at a very early stage it developed
-into the cult dance. Nevertheless, from the very beginning it obviously
-also gave rise to pleasure, and this caused it to be re-enacted in
-playful form. Thus, even the earliest art ministered not only to
-external needs but also to the subjective life of pleasure. The direct
-source of the latter is one's own movements and their accompanying
-sensations. The dance of the group enhances both the emotion and the
-ability of the individual. This appears clearly in the dances executed
-by the inland tribes of Malacca. These peoples do not seem to have any
-round dances. The individual dancer remains at a fixed spot, though he
-is able, without leaving his place, to execute marvellous contortions
-and movements of the limbs. These movements, moreover, combine
-with those of his companions to form an harmonious whole. They are
-controlled, however, by still another factor, the attempt to imitate
-animals. It is true that, on the primitive level proper, the animal
-does not play so dominant a rôle as in later times. Nevertheless, the
-imitation of animals in the dance already foreshadows the totemic
-period. Some individuals are able, while remaining at a fixed spot,
-to imitate with striking life-likeness the movements of even small
-animals, and this is regarded as art of the highest order. Yet the
-animal-mask, which is later commonly used in cult and magic, is here as
-yet entirely lacking. These very mimic and pantomimic dances, however,
-unquestionably bear the traces of magic. When the Veddah imitates
-game-animals while executing his dance about the arrow, the arrow is
-without doubt regarded as a means of magic, and we may conjecture that
-the game-animals that are struck by an arrow are supposed actually to
-succumb as a result of this mimetic performance.
-
-Among primitive peoples, the dance is not, as a rule, accompanied by
-music. At most, means of producing noise are introduced, their purpose
-being to indicate the rhythm. The simplest of these noise-instruments
-consists of two wooden sticks that are beaten together. The drum is
-also common at a very early time; yet it was probably introduced from
-without. The real musical accompaniment of the dance is furnished by
-the human voice in the _dance-song_. It would, of course, be wrong to
-suppose that because the dance originally served purposes of magic,
-the dance-song was a sort of primitive cult-song. Of such songs as the
-latter no traces occur until later. The contents of the early songs
-are derived from the most commonplace experiences of life. The songs
-really consist of detached fragments of purely descriptive or narrative
-prose, and have no inner connection with the motives of the dance.
-That which characterizes them as songs is the refrain. One might say
-without qualification that this poetic form of speech begins with the
-refrain. The song has grown up out of selected natural sounds. Anything
-that has been done or observed may serve as content of the song. After
-such material has once been employed, it is continually repeated. Thus
-it becomes a folk-song that is sung particularly during the dance. The
-melody is of a very monotonous character; could it be translated into
-our notes, we would find that in the songs of the Veddahs or of the
-inland tribes of Malacca, the melody moves at most within the range
-of a sixth. Moreover, there is an absence of harmonic intervals, so
-that, not having been phonographically recorded, the songs cannot
-be reproduced in our notes except with great uncertainty. Of their
-content, the following illustrations may give us some idea. One, of the
-songs of the Veddahs runs as follows:--
-
-  The doves of Taravelzita say kuturung.
-  Where the talagoya is roasted and eaten, there blew a wind,
-  Where the memmina is roasted and eaten, there blew a wind,
-  Where the deer is roasted and eaten, there blew a wind.
-
-
-On a somewhat higher level stands the following song of the Semangs. It
-refers to the ring-tailed lemur (macaco), a monkey species very common
-in the forests of Malacca; by the Semangs it is called 'kra':--
-
-  He runs along the branches, the kra,
-  He carries the fruit with him, the kra,
-  He runs to and fro, the kra;
-  Over the living bamboo, the kra,
-  Over the dead bamboo, the kra;
-
-  He runs along the branches, the kra,
-  He leaps about and screams, the kra,
-  He permits glimpses of himself, the kra,
-  He shows his grinning teeth, the kra.
-
-As is clear, we have here simply observations, descriptions of that
-which the Semang has seen when watching the lemur in the forest. This
-description, of course, serves only as the material for the music of
-speech; that which is really musical is the refrain, which in this case
-consists simply of the word _kra_. This music of speech exalts and
-supplements the dance; when all parts of the body are in motion the
-articulatory organs also tend to participate. It is only the modern
-art-dance which has substituted an instrumental accompaniment for the
-voice and has thus been able to suppress the natural expression of
-emotions. But, even in our culture, the emotions receive active, vocal
-expression in the folk-dances of our villages.
-
-Musical instruments, in the strict sense of the word, are almost
-unknown to primitive man. Where somewhat complex forms occur, they
-appear to have been imported. Such, for example, is the bamboo
-nose-flute, occasionally found among the inland tribes of the Malay
-Peninsula. The nose-flute is similar to our flutes, except that it
-is blown from above instead of from the side, and is not played by
-means of the mouth, but is placed against one of the nostrils, so
-that the side of the nose serves as the tone-producing membrane. It
-has from three to five holes that may be covered with the fingers.
-This instrument is a genuine product of Melanesia, and was doubtless
-acquired from this region by the Malayan tribes. Of earlier origin,
-no doubt, are _stringed instruments_. These are to be found even
-among primitive peoples. The forms that occur in Malacca have, in
-this case also, obviously come from Oceania. But, on the other hand,
-an instrument has been found among the Bushmen and the neighbouring
-peoples which may be regarded as the most primitive of its kind and
-which throws important light on the origin of musical instruments
-of this sort. A bow, essentially similar to that which he employs
-in the chase, affords the Bushman a simple stringed instrument. The
-string of the bow now becomes the string of a musical instrument.
-Its tones, however, cannot be heard distinctly by any one except the
-player himself. He takes one end of the bow between his teeth and sets
-the string into vibration with his finger. The resonance of the bones
-of his head then causes a tone, whose pitch he may vary by holding
-the string at the middle or at some other point, and thus setting
-only a part of the string into vibration. Of this tone, however,
-practically no sound reaches the external world. On the other hand,
-the tone produces a very strong effect on the player himself, being
-powerfully transmitted through the teeth to the firm parts of the skull
-and reaching the auditory nerves through a direct bone-conduction.
-Thus, then, it is a remarkable fact that music, the most subjective
-of the arts, begins with the very stringed instruments which are the
-most effective in arousing subjective moods, and with a form in which
-the pleasure secured by the player from his playing remains purely
-subjective. But, from this point on, the further development to
-tone-effects that are objective and are richer in gradations is reached
-by simple transitions effected by association. The _one_ string, taken
-over from the bow used in the chase, is no longer sufficient. Hence
-the bridge appears, which consists of a piece of wood whose upper side
-is fastened at the middle of the bow and whose lower side is toothed
-for the reception of several strings. The strings also are perfected,
-by being made of threads detached from the bamboo of which the bow
-is constructed. Then follows a second important advance. Instead of
-taking the end of the bow in his mouth and using his own head as a
-resonator, the player makes use of a hollow gourd and thus renders the
-tone objectively audible. The best and most direct point of connection
-between the gourd and the bow proves to be the end of the stick that
-carries the bridge. It is now no longer the head of the player that
-furnishes the resonance, but the substituted calabash. In its external
-appearance the calabash resembles the head--indeed, upon other
-occasions also, it is sometimes regarded as a likeness of the head,
-and eyes, mouth, and nose are cut into its rind. Thus, the association
-of the gourd with the head may possibly have exerted an influence upon
-this step in the development of the musical instrument. Perhaps the
-inventor himself did not realize until after the artificial head came
-into use that he had made a great advance in the perfection of his
-instrument. His music was now audible to others as well as to himself.
-
-Another instrument also, the _bull-roarer_, dates back to the
-beginnings of music, though its development, of course, differed from
-that of the zither. The bull-roarer, indeed, is an instrument of
-tone and noise that is to be found only among relatively primitive
-peoples. True, it does not reach its highest development among those
-peoples who, from a sociological point of view, occupy the lowest
-plane of culture; it becomes an instrument of magic, as we shall see,
-only within the totemic culture of Australia. Nevertheless, there has
-been discovered, again among the Bushmen, a form of bull-roarer of an
-especially primitive character. Doubtless that which led primitive
-man to the invention of the zither was the tone which he heard in his
-everyday experience in war or in the hunt when he applied an arrow
-to his bow. No doubt, also, it was the whirring noise of the arrow,
-or that, perhaps, of the flying bird which the arrow imitates, that
-led him to reproduce this noise in a similar manner. Indeed, in South
-Africa, the bull-roarer, though, of course, used only as a plaything,
-occurs in a form that at once reminds one of a flying bird or arrow.
-The feather of a bird is fastened at right angles to a stick of wood.
-When the stick is vigorously swung about in a circle, a whistling
-noise is produced, accompanied, particularly when swung with great
-rapidity, by a high tone. This tone, however, is not capable of further
-perfection, so that no other musical instrument developed from the
-bull-roarer. The contrary, rather, is true. In other forms of the
-bull-roarer in which the feathers were displaced by a flat wooden
-board--whose only resemblance to a bird was a slight similarity in
-form--the noise was more intense but the tone less clear. For this
-reason the bull-roarer soon lost its place in the ranks of musical
-instruments and became purely an instrument of magic, in which function
-also it was used only temporarily. In many parts of the world,
-moreover, there is a similar primitive implement, the _rattle_, whose
-status is the same as that of the bull-roarer.
-
-It was in connection with ideas of magic and of demons that _formative
-art_ or, as it would perhaps be truer to say, the elements from which
-this art proceeded, was developed. Such art was not unknown even
-to the primitive peoples of the pretotemic age. If anywhere, it is
-doubtless among the primitive tribes of Malacca and Ceylon that we
-can, in some measure and with some certainty, trace formative art to
-its earliest beginnings and to the causes back of these. The Bushman
-must here be excluded from consideration, since, as we shall see, he
-was clearly affected by external influences. The Veddahs, as well as
-the Senoi and Semangs, are familiar with only the simplest forms of
-linear decoration. Yet this makes it evident that simple lines, such as
-can be produced by cutting or by scratching, form the starting-point
-of almost all later development. Here again it is the bamboo that is
-utilized, its wood being a material suitable for these simple artistic
-attempts. Its connection with art is due also to the fact that it is
-used in the manufacture of implements and weapons, such as the bow
-and the digging-stick, and, later, the blow-pipe and the flute. As
-important objects of adornment, we find the combs of the women, which,
-among the Malaccan tribes, are extremely rich in linear decorations.
-At first, the dominant motive is the triangle. Just as the triangle
-is the simplest rectilinear figure of geometry, so also is it the
-simplest closed ornamental pattern. The weapons not infrequently have
-a series of triangles included within two parallel straight lines.
-This illustrates in its simplest form the universal characteristic of
-primitive ornaments, namely, uniform repetition. The pattern later
-becomes more complicated; the triangles are crossed by lines between
-which there are spaces that are also triangular in form. Such figures
-are then further combined into double triangles having a common base,
-etc. These are followed by other forms, in which simple arcs take the
-place of straight lines. For example, an arc is substituted for the
-base of each triangle, again with absolute uniformity. Finally, the
-arc, in the form of the segment of a circle, is utilized independently,
-either in simple repetition or in alternation. These simple designs
-then become increasingly complex by the combination either of the forms
-as a whole or of some of their parts. This multiplication of motives
-reaches its most artistic development in the women's combs found among
-the tribes of the Malay Peninsula. The comb, in some form or other,
-is a very common article of adornment among peoples of nature. But it
-is just in the form in which it occurs among the Senoi and Semangs
-that the comb gives evidence of having originally been, at most, only
-incidentally an article of adornment and of having only gradually come
-to be exclusively a decoration. In shape, it is like the women's combs
-of to-day. The teeth are pointed downwards, and serve the purpose of
-fastening the hair. The upper part forms a broad crest. But among
-these peoples the crest is the main part of the comb, the function
-of the teeth being merely to hold it to the head. For the crest is
-decorated in rich profusion with the above-mentioned ornamentations,
-and, if we ask the Semangs and the Senoi what these mean, we are told
-that they guard against diseases. In the Malay Peninsula, the men do
-not wear combs, evidently for the practical reason that, because of
-their life in the forest and their journeys through the underbrush,
-they cut their hair short. In other regions which have also evolved
-the comb, as in Polynesia, such conditions do not prevail; the comb,
-therefore, is worn by both men and women. In this, its earliest, use,
-however, the comb as such is clearly less an object of adornment than a
-means of magic. It serves particularly as a sort of amulet, to protect
-against sickness-demons. For this reason the ornamental lines in their
-various combinations are regarded as referring to particular diseases.
-The marks which a Semang woman carries about with her on her comb are
-really magical signs indicating the diseases from which she wishes to
-be spared. The head would appear to be a particularly appropriate place
-for wearing these magical signs. It is to magical ideas, therefore,
-that we must probably look for the origin of this very common means of
-adornment. In Malacca, indeed, the combs are carefully preserved; the
-drawings made upon them render them, as it were, sacred objects. But it
-is impossible to learn directly from the statements of the natives just
-how primitive articles of adornment came to acquire the significance
-of ornaments. Our only clue is the fact that the decorations on the
-bows and blow-pipes are supposed to be magical aids to a successful
-hunt; for, among the representations, there are occasionally those
-of animals. This fact we may bring into connection with observations
-made by Karl von den Steinen among the Bakairi of Central Brazil.
-This investigator here found remarkable ornamentations on wood. All
-of these were of a simple geometrical design, just as in the case of
-other primitive peoples, yet they were interpreted by the natives not
-as means of magic but as representations of objects. A consecutive
-series of triangles whose angles were somewhat rounded off, was
-interpreted as a snake, and a series of squares whose angles touched,
-as a swarm of bees. But the representations included also other things
-besides animals. For example, a vertical series of triangles in which
-the apexes pointed downwards and touched the bases of the next lower
-triangles, was regarded as a number of women's aprons--the upper part
-was the girdle, and, attached to this, the apron. In a word, primitive
-man is inclined to read concrete objects of this kind into his simple
-ornamental lines. That we also can still voluntarily put ourselves into
-such an attitude, is testified to by Karl von den Steinen himself, when
-he tells us that he succeeded without particular effort in discovering
-similar objects in certain simple ornamentations. We here have a case
-of the psychical process of assimilation. This is characteristic of all
-consciousness, but, as might be supposed, from the fact that primitive
-peoples live continuously in the open, it is more strongly in evidence
-among them than among civilized races.
-
-But the question now arises, Which came first? Did the Bakairi really
-wish to represent snakes, bees, women's aprons, etc., and reduce these
-to geometrical schematizations? Or did he, without such intention,
-first make simple linear decorations, and later read into them, through
-imaginative association, the memory images of objects? The latter is
-doubtless the case. For it is much easier first to draw simple lines
-and then to read complicated objects into them than it is, conversely,
-to reduce these pictures at the outset to abstract geometrical
-schemata. Indeed, when the Bakairi wishes to draw real objects, he
-proceeds just as our children do: he copies them as well as he can.
-For example, the Bakairi occasionally draws fishes in the sand for
-the purpose of marking out a path, or he attempts to reproduce men
-and animals in a way strikingly similar to our children's drawings.
-Evidently, therefore, it was not inability to draw the objects
-themselves that gave rise to these primitive geometrical decorations.
-The decorations came first, and the memory images of the objects of
-daily perception were then read into them. The answer, however, to the
-question as to why primitive man produces decorations at all, is easily
-found by calling to mind the motives discernible in such uniform and
-simple series of figures as the triangles and arcs which the Senoi
-and the Semangs cut into bamboo. Because of the character of his
-locomotor organs, primitive man repeats the movements of the dance at
-regular intervals, and this rhythm gives him pleasure. Similarly, he
-derives pleasure even from the regularly repeated movements involved
-in making the straight lines of his drawings, and this pleasure is
-enhanced when he sees the symmetrical figures that arise under his
-hand as a result of his movements. The earliest æsthetic stimuli are
-symmetry and rhythm. We learn this even from the most primitive of
-all arts, the dance. Just as one's own movements in the dance are an
-æsthetic expression of symmetry and rhythm, so also are these same
-characteristics embodied in the earliest productions of pictorial
-art--in the beginning indeed, they alone are to be found. The primitive
-song comes to be a song only as a result of the regular repetition
-of a refrain that in itself is unimportant. As soon as primitive man
-produces lines on wood, his pleasure in rhythmic repetition at once
-leads him to make these symmetrical. It is for this reason that we
-never find decorations that consist merely of a single figure--a
-single triangle, for instance--but always find a considerable number
-of figures together, either above one another, or side by side, or
-both combined, though the last arrangement occurs only at a somewhat
-more advanced stage. If, now, these decorations are more and more
-multiplied by reason of the increasing pleasure in their production,
-we naturally have figures that actually resemble certain objects.
-This resemblance is strengthened particularly by the repetition of
-the figures. A single square with its angles placed vertically and
-horizontally would scarcely be interpreted as a bee, even by a Bakairi;
-but in a series of such squares we ourselves could doubtless imagine
-a swarm of bees. Thus there arise representations resembling animals,
-plants, and flowers. Because of their symmetrical form, the latter
-particularly are apt to become associated with geometrical designs. Yet
-on the whole the animal possesses a greater attraction. The animal that
-forms the object of the hunt is carved upon the bow or the blow-pipe.
-This is a means of magic that brings the animal within range of the
-weapon. It is magic, likewise, that affords the explanation of the
-statement of the Senoi and the Semangs that the drawings on the combs
-of their women are a means of protection against diseases. These two
-sorts of purposes illustrate the two forms of magic that are still
-exemplified on higher cultural levels by the amulet, on the one hand,
-and the talisman, on the other--protection from danger, and assistance
-in one's personal undertakings. Now it is easy to understand how
-especially the complicated decorations on the combs of the Malaccan
-tribes may, through the familiar processes of psychical assimilation,
-come to be regarded as living beings, in the form either of animals
-or of plants, and how these forms in turn may come to be interpreted
-as sickness-demons. For, these demons are beings that have never been
-seen; hence the terrified imagination may all the more readily give
-them the most fantastic shapes. Indeed, we still find examples of
-this in the more elaborate pictures of the art of some semi-cultural
-peoples. Thus also are explained many of the masks used among the most
-diverse peoples. It is almost always grotesque animal or human masks
-that are employed to represent fear-demons. The freer the sway of the
-imagination, the easier it is to see the figure of a demon in any
-decoration whatsoever. The multiplicity of the ornamental drawings,
-moreover, meets the need for distinguishing a great number of such
-demons, so that a woman of the Senoi or the Semangs carries about on
-her head the demoniacal representation of all known diseases. For,
-according to an ancient law of magic, the demon himself has a twofold
-rôle--he both causes the sickness and protects against it. Just as a
-picture is identified with its object, so also is the drawing that
-represents or portrays the sickness-demon regarded as the demon itself.
-Whoever carries it about is secure against its attack. Both magic
-and counter-magic spring from a common source. The medicine-man who
-exercises counter-magic must also be familiar with magic. The two are
-but divergent forms of the same magical potency that has its birth in
-the emotions of fear and terror.
-
-In summary of what we have thus far learned with regard to the art of
-drawing among primitive men, it may be said that this art is throughout
-one of _magic_ and _adornment_. These are the _two_ motives from which
-it springs, and which, apparently, co-operate from the outset. The mere
-drawing of lines in regular and symmetrical repetition is due to that
-regularity of movement which also finds expression in the dance and,
-even prior to this, in ordinary walking and running. But the artist
-himself then attributes a hidden meaning to that which he has created.
-Astonishment at his creation fuses with his pleasure in it, and his
-wonder at the picture that he has produced makes of it, when animated
-and retransformed by the imagination, a magical object. The pictures
-carried about on the person, or wrought on an object of daily use,
-assist in guarding against diseases and other injuries, or they assure
-the success of the weapon and the implement.
-
-In view of these characteristics of a purely magical and decorative
-art, it may perhaps at first glance cause surprise that there should
-be a people which, although primitive in other essential respects, has
-far transcended this stage in artistic attainment, and has, apparently,
-followed an entirely different direction in its pathway to art. Such
-are the Bushmen. The primitive tribes mentioned above show no traces
-of an art of drawing; beyond suggestions of a single object, it is
-absolutely impossible to find representations of objects and their
-groupings such as are common in the pictures of the Bushmen, which
-portray particularly animals and, to a less extent, men. This is all
-the more significant in view of the fact that, while the Bushmen
-also decorate their weapons and utensils with magical and ornamental
-designs, these are of far less importance than in the case of the
-primitive tribes referred to above. The painting of the Bushmen,
-however, is obviously neither magical nor decorative in character.
-Originally these pictures seem to have been drawn in caves; at any
-rate, it is here that many of them have been found. We have already
-indicated the importance of this primitive dwelling for the beginnings
-of a memorial art. When external impressions are absent, as in the
-cave, the imagination is all the more impelled to preserve memories
-in self-created pictures. The simpler of these resemble, in their
-characteristics, the drawings and paintings of present-day children.
-But we can plainly distinguish the more primitive work from that which
-is more advanced; the latter frequently reproduces its objects with
-accuracy, particularly animals, such, for example, as the elk and also
-the giraffe, which is a favourite object, probably because of its long
-neck. Occasionally, indeed, a quadruped is still represented in profile
-with only two legs, but most of the pictures are certainly far beyond
-this childish mode of drawing. In general, mineral pigments were used
-from the very outset, particularly red iron ore, blue vitriol, etc. We
-also find mixtures of pigments, so that almost all colours occur. Now
-it might, of course, be supposed that such a picture of an animal has
-the same significance as attaches to the drawing occasionally executed
-on the bow of a primitive man for the purpose of magically insuring the
-weapon of its mark. But the very places where these paintings occur,
-far removed as they are from chase and battle, militate against such
-a supposition. An even greater objection is the fact that the more
-perfect pictures represent scenes from life. One of them, for example,
-portrays the meeting of Bushmen with white men, as is evident partly
-from the colour and partly from the difference in the size of the
-figures. Another well-known picture represents the way in which the
-Bushmen steal cattle from a Bantu tribe. The Bantus are represented by
-large figures, the Bushmen by small ones; in a lively scene, the latter
-drive the animals away, while the far-striding Bantus remain far in
-the rear. The picture reveals the joy of the primitive artist over the
-successful escapade. This is not magical art, but plainly exemplifies
-the first products of a memorial art. The one who painted these
-pictures desired first of all to bring before his memory that which he
-had experienced, and he doubtless also wished to preserve these scenes
-to the memory of his kinsmen. This is memorial art in a twofold sense.
-Memory renews the experiences of the past, and it is for memory that
-the past is to be retained. But this art also must still be classed as
-primitive, for it has not as yet attained to the level of _imitative_
-art. It is not an art that reproduces an object by a direct comparison
-of picture with copy. This is the sense in which the present-day
-portrait or landscape painter practises imitation. Even where the
-primitive era transcended a merely magical or decorative art, it did
-not advance beyond memorial art. The Bushman did not have the objects
-themselves before him, but created his pictures in accordance with his
-memory of them. Moreover, suited as the cave is to the development
-of a memorial art, it of itself makes imitative art impossible. But
-how can we account for the fact that the primitive tribe of Bushmen
-attained to a level of art whose exclusion of magical motives ranks
-it as relatively advanced, and which must be estimated all the more
-highly because it is not shared by the neighbouring African tribes? The
-Hottentots, for example, no less than the Bechuanas and the Bantus,
-are inferior in artistic accomplishments to the Bushmen, although the
-culture of the latter is in other respects far below the level of that
-of the former. May we say of this memorial art what seems probable
-as regards the magical and decorative art of the inland tribes of
-Malacca and of Ceylon, namely, that it arose independently from the
-same original motives as the dance? The answer to this question depends
-primarily upon the antiquity of these art productions. Do they date
-back to an immemorial past, as we may suppose to be the case with the
-decorations of the Veddahs and the Malaccan tribes? There are two
-considerations, principally, that prove the contrary, namely, that they
-are relatively recent creations. In the first place, the paintings
-present the pictures of animals, in particular of the horse and the
-sheep, with which the Bushman has been acquainted at farthest since
-the latter part of the eighteenth century. True, these animals were
-brought into Cape Colony as early as the seventeenth century; it was
-clearly not until later, however, that the Bushmen became familiar with
-them. A second consideration is the remarkable circumstance that these
-primitive painters employ essentially the same tools as the Europeans.
-This art has now, indeed, almost disappeared, the race having been
-crowded back and depleted. But the remains show that the painters
-possessed a stone plate on which they mixed their paints and also a
-stone pounder with which the mixing was done--that is, a palette and a
-pestle. Indeed, for applying the colours they occasionally utilized a
-paint-brush made of fine splinters of bone, though some, no doubt, were
-content to do this with the fingers.
-
-These are all signs which certainly suggest a not very distant past.
-Moreover, art products cannot resemble each other in so many respects
-without having some connection in origin. Added to this is the fact
-that the very character of such pictures as are still in existence
-scarcely allows us to regard them as more than sixty to seventy
-years old. From all of this we must conclude that this art is not
-primitive at all, but was imported, resembling in this many other
-things that gain entrance into the life of a primitive tribe. If the
-essential elements of the Biblical account of the Creation reached
-the Andamanese, who in other respects are primitive, why may we not
-also suppose that a wandering European artist at one time came to
-the Bushmen, even before any other elements of European culture had
-become accessible to them? Nevertheless, the fact that this painting
-exists indicates the presence of a remarkable talent. This brings us to
-our last problem in the psychology of primitive man, to the question
-concerning his mental equipment in general.
-
-
-
-9. THE INTELLECTUAL AND MORAL CHARACTERISTICS OF PRIMITIVE MAN.
-
-
-For a general estimate of the mental characteristics of a race or a
-tribe, the observation of a single individual or of several individuals
-is not adequate. Judgment can be based only on the totality of the
-various mental phases of culture--language, custom, myth, and art. But,
-if we would also obtain a conception of the mental capacities of a
-people or a tribe, we must take into further consideration the mental
-endowment of the _individual_. For, in the case of mental capacity,
-we must consider not merely that which has actually been achieved but
-also everything within the possibility of attainment. Here, again, the
-standpoint differs according as we are concerned (to limit ourselves
-to the two most important and typical aspects) with an _intellectual_
-or a _moral_ estimate. These two aspects, the intellectual, taken in
-its widest sense, and the moral, are not only of supreme importance,
-but, as experience shows, they in no wise run parallel courses. For an
-understanding of mental development in general, therefore, and of the
-relation of these its aspects, the early conditions of human culture
-are particularly significant.
-
-If, now, we consider the general cultural conditions of primitive
-man, and recall the very meagre character of his external cultural
-possessions as well as his lack of any impulse to perfect these, we
-may readily be led to suppose that his intellectual capacities also
-have remained on a very low plane of development. How, some have asked,
-could the Bushman have dispensed for decades with firearms--just as
-accessible to him as to the surrounding tribes--unless he possessed
-a low degree of intelligence? Even more true is this of the Negritos
-of the Philippines or the Veddahs of Ceylon. How, unless their
-mental capacities were essentially more limited than those of their
-neighbours, could they have lived in the midst of highly cultivated
-tribes and have remained for decades on an unchanged mental level? But
-we need to bear in mind two considerations that are here decisive. The
-first of these is the _limited nature of the wants_ of primitive man,
-a condition fostered, no doubt, by his relatively small intercourse
-with neighbouring peoples. Added to this is the fact that up to very
-recent times--for here also many changes have arisen--the primitive
-man of the tropics has found plenty of game and plant food in his
-forests, as well as an abundance of material for the clothing and
-adornment to which he is accustomed. Hence he lacks the incentive to
-strive for anything beyond these simple means of satisfying his wants.
-It is agreed, particularly by the investigators who have studied those
-tribes of Malacca and Ceylon that have remained primitive, that the
-most outstanding characteristic of primitive man is contentment. He
-seeks for nothing further, since he either finds all that he desires
-in his environment, or, by methods handed down from the ancient past,
-knows how he may produce it out of the material available to him. For
-this reason the Semangs and Senoi, no less than the Veddahs, despise
-as renegades those mixed tribes that have arisen through union, in the
-one case, with the Malays, and, in the other, with the Singhalese and
-Tamils. All the more firmly, therefore, do they hold to that which
-was transmitted to them by their fathers. Together with this limited
-character of their wants, we find a fixity of conditions, due to their
-long isolation. The longer a set of customs and habits has prevailed
-among a people, the more difficult it is to overturn. Prior to any
-change we must, in such cases, first have mighty upheavals, battles,
-and migrations. To what extent all deeper-going changes of culture are
-due to racial fusions, migrations, and battles we shall presently see.
-The tribes that have remained relatively primitive to this day have led
-a peaceful existence since immemorial times. Of course, the individual
-occasionally slays the man who disturbs his marriage relations or
-trespasses upon his hunting-grounds. Otherwise, however, so long as he
-is not obliged to protect himself against peoples that crowd in upon
-him, primitive man is familiar with the weapon only as an implement
-of the chase. The old picture of a war of all with all, as Thomas
-Hobbes once sketched the natural state of man, is the very reverse of
-what obtained. The natural condition is one of peace, unless this is
-disturbed by external circumstances, one of the most important of which
-is contact with a higher culture. The man of nature, however, suffers
-less from an advanced culture than he does from the barbarism of
-semi-culture. But whenever a struggle arises for the possession of the
-soil and of the means of subsistence which it furnishes, semi-culture
-may come to include more peoples than are usually counted as belonging
-to it. The war of extermination against the red race was carried on by
-the pious New England Puritans with somewhat different, though with
-scarcely better, weapons than the Hottentots and Herero to-day turn
-against the Bushmen, or the Monbuttus against the Negritos of Central
-Africa.
-
-It is characteristic of primitive culture that it has failed to advance
-since immemorial times, and this accounts for the uniformity prevalent
-in widely separated regions of the earth. This, however, does not at
-all imply that, within the narrow sphere that constitutes his world,
-the intelligence of primitive man is inferior to that of cultural man.
-If we call to mind the means which the former employs to seek out, to
-overtake, and to entrap his game, we have testimony both of reflection
-and, equally so, of powers of observation. In order to capture the
-larger game, for example, the Bushman digs large holes in the ground,
-in the middle of which he constructs partitions which he covers with
-brush. An animal that falls into such a hole cannot possibly work its
-way out, since two of its legs will be on one side of the partitional
-division and two on the other. Smaller animals are captured by traps
-and snares similar to those familiar to us. The Negritos of the
-Philippines, furthermore, employ a very clever method for securing
-wild honey from trees without exposing themselves to injury from the
-bees. They kindle a fire at the foot of the tree, causing a dense
-smoke. Enveloped by this, an individual climbs the tree and removes the
-object of his desire, the smoke rendering the robber invisible to the
-scattering swarm. It is thus that the Negritos secure honey, their most
-precious article of food. How great, moreover, is the inventive ability
-required by the bow and arrow, undoubtedly fashioned even by primitive
-men! We have seen, of course, that these inventions were not snatched
-from the blue, but that they were influenced by all sorts of empirical
-elements and probably also by magical ideas, as in the case of the
-feathering of the arrow. Nevertheless, the assembling and combining
-of these elements in the production of a weapon best suited to the
-conditions of primitive life is a marvellous achievement, scarcely
-inferior, from an intellectual point of view, to the invention of
-modern firearms. Supplementing this, we have the testimony of observers
-concerning the general ability of these races. A missionary teacher in
-Malacca, whose school included Chinese, Senoi, and Malays, gave first
-rank to the Chinese as regards capacity, and second place to the Senoi,
-while the Malays were graded last, though they, as we know, are held
-to be a relatively talented race. Now, this grading, of course, may
-have been more or less accidental, yet it allows us to conclude that
-the intellectual endowment of primitive man is in itself approximately
-equal to that of civilized man. Primitive man merely exercises his
-ability in a more restricted field; his horizon is essentially narrower
-because of his contentment under these limitations. This, of course,
-does not deny that there may have been a time, and, indeed, doubtless
-was one, when man occupied a lower intellectual plane and approximated
-more nearly to the animal state which preceded that of human beings.
-This earliest and lowest level of human development, however, is not
-accessible to us.
-
-But what, now, may be said concerning the moral characteristics of
-primitive man? It is clear that we must here distinguish sharply
-between those tribes that have hitherto remained essentially
-unaffected by external influences and those that have for some time
-past eked out a meagre existence in their struggle with surrounding
-peoples of a higher culture. The primitive man who still lives
-uninfluenced by surrounding peoples--typical examples are, in general,
-the natural Veddahs of Ceylon and the inland tribes of the Malay
-Peninsula--presents an entirely different picture from that of the
-man who seeks in the face of difficulties to protect himself against
-his environment. In the case of the tribes of Ceylon and Malacca,
-the somewhat civilized mixed peoples constitute a sort of protective
-zone, in the former case against the Singhalese and Tamils, in the
-latter, against the Malays. These mixed peoples are despised, and
-therefore they themselves hesitate to enter into intercourse with the
-primitive tribes. Thus they offer an outer buttress against inpressing
-culture. The result is that these primitive peoples continue to
-live their old life essentially undisturbed. Now, the testimony of
-unprejudiced observers is unanimous in maintaining that primitive man
-is frank and honest, that lying is unknown to him, and that theft
-does not exist. He may, of course, be strongly moved by emotion, so
-that the man who disturbs the Veddah's marriage relation may be sure
-of a poisoned arrow, as may also the strange huntsman who encroaches
-unbidden upon his hunting-grounds. This reprisal is not based upon
-legal enactments--of such there are none; it is custom that allows
-this summary procedure. Many investigators have believed that these
-various characteristics exhibited by unmixed primitive culture indicate
-a high state of morality. In this they agree with Wilhelm Schmidt, for
-whom primitive men are the infant peoples of the world, in that they
-possess the innocence of childhood. It is not only man's moral outlook,
-however, but also his moral character, as this very illustration
-shows, that depends upon the environment in which he lives. Since the
-primitive man who lives undisturbed by external conditions has no
-occasion to conceal anything, his honesty and frankness ought scarcely
-to be counted to his particular credit; so far as theft is concerned,
-how can there be a thief where there is no property? It may, of course,
-happen that an individual takes the weapon of his companion for a short
-time and uses it. This action, however, is all the more permissible
-since each man makes his own bow and arrow. The same is true of
-clothing and articles of adornment. Thus, the rather negative morality
-of primitive man also has its origin in his limited wants, in the
-lack of any incentives to such action as we would call immoral. Such
-a positive situation, however, is, no doubt, afforded by the strict
-monogamy, which probably originated in the prehuman natural state and
-was thenceforth maintained.
-
-Quite different is the moral picture of primitive man wherever he is
-at strife with surrounding peoples. Here, as was noted particularly by
-Emin Pasha and Stuhlmann in the case of the Negritos of the Upper Nile,
-the outstanding characteristics are, in the first place, fear, and then
-deception and malice. But can we wonder at this when we learn that
-the flesh of the Pygmies is especially prized by the anthropophagic
-Monbuttus of that region, and that the pursuit of this human game on
-the part of the latter is absolutely unrestrained, except by the fear
-of the arrows which the Pygmies shoot from behind ambush? Here, of
-course, innocence, frankness, and honesty are not to be expected; under
-these circumstances, theft also comes to be a justifiable act. Wherever
-the Negrito finds something to take, he takes it. The same is true of
-the South African Bushmen, who occupy a similarly precarious position
-with respect to the Bantus and Hottentots. The Bushmen are the most
-notorious thieves of South Africa. Of this we have striking evidence in
-the above-mentioned picture of the Bushman who glorifies and preserves
-to memory the theft of cattle. The Bushman is crafty and treacherous,
-and steals whenever there is opportunity. But what else could be
-expected, when we consider that, by killing off the game with their
-firearms, the Hottentots and Bantus deprive the Bushman of that which
-was once his source of food, and that they shoot the Bushman himself if
-he resists?
-
-To summarize: The intelligence of primitive man is indeed restricted
-to a narrow sphere of activity. Within this sphere, however, his
-intelligence is not noticeably inferior to that of civilized man. His
-morality is dependent upon the environment in which he lives. Where
-he lives his life of freedom, one might almost call his state ideal,
-there being few motives to immoral conduct in our sense of the word.
-On the other hand, whenever primitive man is hunted down and hard
-pressed, he possesses no moral principles whatsoever. These traits are
-worth noting, if only because they show the tremendous influence which
-external life exerts, even under the simplest conditions, upon the
-development of the moral nature.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER II
-
-THE TOTEMIC AGE
-
-
-1. THE GENERAL CHARACTER OF TOTEMISM.
-
-
-The expression 'totemic age' involves a widened application of the
-term 'totem.' This word is taken from the language of the Ojibways
-or, as the English call them, the Chippewa Indians. To these Indians
-of the Algonquin race, the 'totem' signified first of all a group.
-Persons belong to the same totem if they are fellow-members in a group
-which forms part of a tribe or of a clan. The term 'clan,' suggested
-by the clan divisions of the Scottish Highlanders, is the one usually
-employed by English ethnologists in referring to the smaller divisions
-of a tribe. The tribe consists of a number of clans, and each clan may
-include several totems. As a rule, the totem groups bear animal names.
-In North America, for example, there was an eagle totem, a wolf totem,
-a deer totem, etc. In this case the animal names regularly refer to
-particular clans within a tribe; in other places, as, for example, in
-Australia, they designate separate groups within a clan. Moreover, the
-totem animal is also usually regarded as the ancestral animal of the
-group in question. 'Totem,' on the one hand, is a group name, and, on
-the other, a name indicative of ancestry. In the latter connection it
-has also a mythological significance. These various ideas, however,
-interplay in numerous ways. Some of the meanings may recede, so that
-totems have frequently become a mere nomenclature of tribal divisions,
-while at other times the idea of ancestry, or, perhaps also, the cult
-significance, predominates. The idea gained ground until, directly or
-indirectly, it finally permeated all phases of culture. It is in this
-sense that the entire period pervaded by this culture may be called the
-'totemic age.'
-
-Even in its original significance--as a name for a group of members
-of a tribal division or for the division itself--the conception of
-the totem is connected with certain characteristic phenomena of this
-period, distinguishing it particularly from the culture of primitive
-man. I refer to _tribal division_ and _tribal organization_. The horde,
-in which men are united purely by chance or at the occasional call
-of some undertaking, only to scatter again when this is completed,
-has disappeared. Nor is it any longer merely the single family that
-firmly binds individuals to one another; in addition to it we find the
-tribal division, which originates in accordance with a definite law of
-tribal organization and is subject to specific norms of custom. These
-norms, and their fixed place in the beliefs and feelings of the tribal
-members, are connected with the fact that originally, at all events,
-the totem animal was regarded, for the most part, as having not merely
-given its name to a group of tribal members but as having actually been
-its forefather. In so far, animal ancestors apparently preceded human
-ancestors. Bound up with this is the further fact that these animal
-ancestors possessed a cult. Thus, ancestor cult also began with the
-cult of animals, not with that of human ancestors. Aside from specific
-ceremonies and ceremonial festivals, this animal cult originally found
-expression primarily in the relations maintained toward the totem
-animal. It was not merely a particular animal that was to a certain
-extent held sacred, but every representative of the species. The
-totem members were forbidden to eat the flesh of the totem animal, or
-were allowed to do so only under specific conditions. A significant
-counter-phenomenon, not irreconcilable with this, is the fact that on
-certain occasions the eating of the totem flesh constituted a sort of
-ceremony. This likewise implies that the totem animal was held sacred.
-When this conception came into the foreground, the totem idea became
-extended so as to apply, particularly in its cult motives and effects,
-to plants, and sometimes even to stones and other inanimate objects.
-This, however, obviously occurred at a later time.
-
-From early times on, the phenomena of totemism have been accompanied by
-certain _forms of tribal organization_. Every tribe is first divided,
-as a rule, into two halves. Through a further division, a fairly
-large number of clans arise, which, in turn, eventually split up into
-subclans and separate totem groups. Each of these groups originally
-regarded some particular totem animal or other totem object as sacred.
-The most important social aspect of this totemic tribal organization,
-however, consists in the fact that it involved certain norms of custom
-regulating the intercourse of the separate groups with one another.
-Of these norms, those governing marriage relations were of first
-importance. The tribal organization of this period was bound up with an
-important institution, _exogamy_, which originated in the totemic age.
-In the earliest primitive period every tribal member could enter into
-marriage with any woman of the tribe whom he might choose; according to
-the Veddahs, even marriage between brother and sister was originally
-not prohibited. Thus, endogamy prevailed within the primitive horde.
-This, of course, does not mean that there was no marriage except within
-the narrow circle of blood relationship, but merely that marriage was
-permitted between close relatives, more particularly between brothers
-and sisters. The exogamy characteristic of totemic tribal organization
-consists in the fact that no marriages of any kind are allowed except
-between members of different tribal divisions. A member of one
-particular group can enter into marriage only with one of another
-group, not with a person belonging to his own circle. By this means,
-totemic tribal organization gains a powerful influence on custom.
-Through marriage it comes into relation with all phenomena connected
-with marriage, with birth and death and the ideas bound up with them,
-with the initiation ceremonies in which the youths are received into
-the association of men, etc. As a result of the magical significance
-acquired by the totem animal, special associations are formed. These
-become united under the protection of a totem animal and give impetus
-to the exoteric cult associations, which, in their turn, exercise a
-profound influence upon the conditions of life. Though it is probable
-that these associations had their origin in the above-mentioned men's
-clubs, their organizing principle was the totem animal and its cult.
-
-Besides its influence on matters connected with the relations of the
-sexes, the totem animal was the source of several other ideas. After
-the separate tribal group has come to feel itself united in the cult
-of the totem animal, a single individual may acquire a particular
-guardian animal of his own. Out of the tribal totem there thus
-develops the individual totem. Then, again, the different sexes, the
-men and the women of the tribe, acquire their special totem animals.
-These irradiations of the totemic conception serve partly to extend
-it and partly to give it an irregular development. Of the further
-phenomena that gradually come to the foreground during the totemic
-age, one of the most important is the growing influence of dominant
-individual personalities. Such personalities, of course, were not
-unknown even to the primitive horde, on the occasion of important
-undertakings. But tribal organization for the first time introduces a
-permanent leadership on the part of single individuals or of several
-who share the power. Thus, totemism leads to _chieftainship_ as a
-regular institution--one that later, of course, proves to be among the
-foremost factors in the dissolution of the age that gave it birth.
-For chieftainship gives rise to political organization; the latter
-culminates in the State, which, though destroying the original tribal
-organization, is, nevertheless, itself one of the last products of
-totemic tribal institutions.
-
-With the firmer union of tribal members there comes also _tribal
-warfare_. So long as primitive man remains comparatively unaffected
-by other peoples, and particularly by those of a different cultural
-level, he lives, on the whole, in a state of peace. An individual
-may, of course, occasionally raise his weapon against another person,
-but there are no tribal wars. These do not appear until the period
-of totemism, with whose firm social organization they are closely
-connected. The tribe feels itself to be a unit, as does likewise each
-subordinate clan and group. Hence, related tribes may unite in common
-undertakings. More frequently, however, they fall into dissension, and
-warfare must decide their claims to the possession of territory or
-to a disputed hunting-ground. This warfare finds contributory causes
-in tribal migrations. New peoples, some of them perhaps from strange
-tribes, enter into a territory and crowd out its inhabitants. Thus,
-war and migration are closely connected. Strife between tribes and
-peoples--that is, warfare--begins with culture in general, particularly
-with the most primitive social culture, as we may doubtless designate
-totemism in distinction from the still more primitive life of the horde.
-
-This leads to a number of further changes. Tribal ownership of the land
-becomes more firmly established, as does also the custom of allotting a
-particular share to the clan. Personal property, moreover, comes to be
-more and more differentiated from the possessions of the group. Trade,
-which in primitive times was almost entirely restricted to secret
-barter, becomes public, and is finally widened into tribal commerce.
-When this occurs, great changes in external culture are inaugurated.
-Implements, weapons, and articles of dress and of adornment are
-perfected. This stage having been attained, the totemic age advances
-to a utilization of the soil in a way that is unknown to primitive
-man. The land is cultivated by means of agricultural implements. Of
-these, however, the hoe long continues to be the only one; though it
-supplants the digging-stick, its use depends on human power alone. The
-care and breeding of animals is also undertaken; the herdsman's or, as
-it is usually called, the nomadic, life is inaugurated. The breeding
-of useful domestic animals, in particular, is very closely connected
-with totemism. The animal, which at the beginning of the period was
-regarded as sacred, acquires the status of a work animal. It loses its
-dominion over mankind; instead, it becomes a servant, and, as a result,
-its cult significance gradually vanishes. The very moment, however,
-that marks the passing of the sacred animal into the useful animal also
-signalizes the end of the totemic era and the beginning of the age of
-heroes and gods.
-
-These various traits are far from giving us a complete picture of
-the wide ramifications of totemic ideas and customs. Enough has been
-said, however, to indicate how the totemic conception first widens and
-deepens its influence, permeating the external social organization
-no less than the separate phases of society, and then finally leads
-on to its own dissolution. It is precisely this that justifies us in
-calling the entire period the totemic age. Yet the boundaries of this
-period are naturally much less clearly defined, or sharply demarcated
-as to beginning and end, than are those of the preceding primitive
-age. Man is primitive so long as he is essentially limited in his
-immediate means of support to that which nature directly offers him
-or to the labour of his own hands. But even in its beginnings the
-totemic age transcends these conditions. Tribal organization and the
-connected phenomena of war, migration, and the beginnings of open
-trade relations are cultural factors which from the outset represent
-an advance beyond the primitive state. But the lower limit of the age
-cannot be definitely fixed; still less can we determine the point at
-which it terminates. The chieftain of the totemic age is the forerunner
-of the ruler who appears in the succeeding period. Similarly, totem
-animals are even more truly the precursors of the later herd, and of
-agricultural animals. Thus, it is not at all permissible to speak
-merely of _a_ culture, as one may do in the case of the primitive
-age. There are a number of different cultures--indeed, several levels
-of culture, which are in part co-existent but in part follow upon
-one another. Their only similarity is the fact that they all exhibit
-the fundamental characteristics of the totemic age. Consider the
-Veddahs of Ceylon, the Negritos of the Philippines, the inland and
-forest-dwelling tribes of Malacca. When we have described the general
-cultural conditions of one of these tribes, we have given the essential
-features of all. This, however, is far from true in the case of
-totemism, for this includes many forms of culture and various periods
-of development. Even in speaking of levels of culture we may do so
-only with the reservation that each level in its turn includes within
-it a large number of separate forms of culture, of numerous sorts and
-gradations. Moreover, the external culture, reflected in dress and
-habitation, in personal decoration, in implements and weapons, in
-food and its preparation, does not in the least parallel the social
-phenomena represented by tribal organization, marriage relations, and
-forms of rulership. Though the general character of the Polynesian
-peoples permits their inclusion within the totemic age, their tribal
-organization exhibits the characteristics of totemic society only
-imperfectly. In other aspects of their culture, however, they rank far
-higher than the Australians or some of the Melanesian tribes; these
-possess a very complex social organization, but are, nevertheless,
-only slightly superior, on the whole, to primitive peoples. Thus, the
-various phases of totemic culture may develop in relative independence
-of one another, even though they are in constant interaction. This is
-true particularly in the sense that the more developed totemic customs
-and cults occur even on low cultural levels, whereas, on the other
-hand, they more and more disappear with the progress of culture.
-
-
-
-2. THE STAGES OF TOTEMIC CULTURE.
-
-
-We cannot undertake to describe the extraordinarily rich external
-culture attained by those groups of peoples who may, in the main, be
-counted as belonging to the domain of totemism. This is the task of
-ethnology, and is not of decisive importance for folk psychology.
-True, in the case of primitive man, the conditions of external culture
-were described in some detail. This was necessary because of the
-close connection between these conditions and the psychical factors
-fundamental to all further development. The beginning of the totemic
-period marks a great change. New forces now come into play, such as are
-not to be found among the universal motives that have controlled the
-life of man from its very beginning. Of these forces there is _one_ in
-particular that should be mentioned--one that is practically lacking
-among primitive tribes. This consists in the reciprocal influences
-exercised upon one another by peoples who occupy approximately the
-same plane of culture but who nevertheless exhibit certain qualitative
-differences. Migrations are also an important factor in the totemic
-age, as well as is the tribal warfare with which migrations are
-connected.
-
-If we disregard these qualitative differences and attempt to introduce
-a degree of order into the profusion of the totemic world solely on
-the basis of general cultural characteristics, we may distinguish
-_three great cultural stages_, of which the third, again, falls into
-two markedly different divisions. We may ignore certain isolated
-remnants of peoples that are scattered over almost all parts of the
-world and exhibit very unlike stages of civilization, in order to
-give our exclusive attention to those forms of culture that belong to
-compact groups. In this event we shall find that the lowest stage is
-unquestionably exemplified in the Australian region, as well as by
-some of the Melanesian peoples. Above this, we have a second level of
-culture, the Malayo-Polynesian. Wide as is the difference between these
-cultures, they are nevertheless connected by numerous transitional
-steps, to be found particularly in Melanesian and Micronesian regions.
-The third stage of totemic culture itself falls into two essentially
-different divisions, the American, on the one hand, and the African,
-on the other. These divisions, of course, include only the so-called
-natural peoples of these countries, or, more accurately expressed,
-those tribes which, as regards the characteristics of their social and
-particularly of their religious development, still belong to totemic
-culture.
-
-The fact that _Australian_ culture, in spite of its highly complex
-tribal organization, occupies the lowest plane of all, itself indicates
-how great may be the discrepancy between totemism in general and the
-direct influence which it exerts upon tribal organization and external
-culture. This explains why the Australian native was regarded, up to
-very recent times, as the typical primitive man. As a matter of fact,
-his general culture differs but slightly from that of primitive races.
-The Australian also is a gatherer and a hunter, and shows no trace of
-a knowledge of agriculture nor, much less, of cattle-raising. Even his
-faithful domestic animal, the dog, is rarely used for hunting, but
-is regarded solely as the companion of man. Among the Australians,
-therefore, the woman still goes about with digging-stick in hand,
-seeking roots and bulbs for food. Man's life still centres about the
-chase, and, when one hunting-ground becomes impoverished, he seeks
-another. Likewise, there is no systematic care for the future. The
-food is prepared directly in the ashes of the fire or between hot
-stones--for cooking is not yet customary--and fire is produced by
-friction or drilling just as it is by primitive man. His utensils also
-are in essential harmony with his general culture.
-
-But there is _one_ important difference. There has come a change of
-_weapon_. This change points to a great revolution inaugurated at
-the beginning of the totemic age. Primitive man possesses only a
-long-distance weapon; for the most part he uses bow and arrow. With
-this weapon he kills his game; with it the individual slays his enemy
-from ambush. On the other hand, war between tribes or tribal divisions,
-in which large numbers are opposed, may scarcely be said to exist. This
-would not be possible with bow and arrow. Thus, the very fact that
-this is the only weapon indicates that relatively peaceful conditions
-obtained in primitive culture. Quite otherwise with the Australian! His
-weapons are markedly different from those of primitive man. Bow and
-arrow are practically unknown to him; they are found only among the
-tribes of the extreme north, having probably entered from Melanesia.
-The real weapons of the Australian are the wooden missile and the
-javelin. The wooden missile, bent either simply or in the form of a
-boomerang, whose above-mentioned asymmetrical curve is designed to
-cause its return to the thrower, is a long-distance weapon. For the
-most part, however, it is employed only in hunting or in play. The
-same remains true, to some extent, also of the javelin. The latter has
-reached a perfected form, being hurled, not directly from the hand, but
-from a grooved board. The pointed end of the javelin extends out beyond
-this groove; at its other end there is a hollow into which is fitted a
-peg, usually consisting of a kangaroo tooth. When the spear is hurled
-from the board this peg insures the aim of the shot, just as does the
-gun-barrel that of the bullet; the leverage increases the range. There
-are also other weapons which are designed for use at close range--the
-long spear, the club, and, what is most indicative of battle, the
-shield. The latter cannot possibly be a hunting implement, as might
-still be the case with the spear and the club, but is a form of weapon
-specifically intended for battle. The shield of the Australian is long,
-and usually raised toward the centre. It covers the entire body, the
-enemy being attacked with spear or club. Thus, the weapons reflect a
-condition of tribal warfare.
-
-The second great stage of culture, which we may call, though somewhat
-inaccurately, the Malayo-Polynesian, offers a radically different
-picture. To a certain extent, the relation between tribal organization
-and external culture is here the reverse of that which obtains in the
-Australian world. In Australia, we find a primitive culture alongside
-of a highly developed tribal organization; in the Malayo-Polynesian
-region, there is a fairly well developed culture, but a tribal
-organization which is partly in a state of dissolution and partly in
-transition to further political and social institutions, including
-the separation of classes and the rulership of chiefs. Evidently
-these latter conditions are the result of extensive racial fusion,
-which is incomparably greater in the Malayo-Polynesian region than
-in Australia. True, we no longer harbour the delusion that Australia
-is inhabited by a uniform population. It also has been subject
-to great waves of immigration, particularly from New Guinea, from
-whence came the Papuans, one of the races which itself attained to
-the Malayo-Polynesian level of culture. Naturally the Papuan influx
-affected chiefly the northern part of Central Australia. The Tasmanian
-tribe, now extinct, was probably a remnant of the original Australian
-population. But migrations and racial fusions have caused even greater
-changes among those peoples who, culturally, must be classed with the
-Malayo-Polynesians. Here likewise there are many different levels, the
-lowest of which, as found among the Malayo-Polynesian mixed population,
-was yet but slightly higher, in some respects, than Australian culture,
-whereas the culture of the true Malays and Polynesians has already
-assumed a more advanced character. Ethnology is not yet entirely able
-to untangle the complicated problems connected with these racial
-fusions. Much less, of course, can we undertake to enter into these
-controversial points. We here call attention merely to certain main
-stages exhibited by the external culture of these peoples, quite aside
-from considerations of race and of tribal migrations. The Negritos and
-the Papuans of various parts of Melanesia possess a culture bordering
-on the primitive--indeed, they may even be characterized as primitive,
-since they possess characteristics of pretotemic society. Of these
-tribes, the Papuans of New Guinea and of the islands of the Torres
-Straits clearly manifest totemic characteristics, while yet possessing
-special racial traits that are exceptionally pronounced. They differ
-but little from primitive man, however, so far as concerns either
-their method of securing food or their dress, the latter of which is
-exceedingly scanty and is made, for the most part, of plant materials.
-But these peoples, just as do the Australians, have weapons indicative
-of battles and migrations; moreover, they exhibit also other marks of
-a somewhat developed culture. The Papuans are the first to change the
-digging-stick into the hoe, a useful implement in tilling the soil.
-In this first form of the hoe, the point is turned so as to form an
-acute angle with the handle to which it is attached. Hence the soil
-is not tilled in the manner of the later hoe-culture proper; nothing
-more is done than to draw furrows into which the seeds are scattered.
-In many respects, however, this primitive implement represents a great
-advance over the method of simply gathering food as practised when the
-digging-stick alone was known. It is the man who makes the furrows
-with the hoe, since the loosening of the ground requires his greater
-strength; he walks ahead, and the woman follows with the seeds, which
-she scatters into the furrows. For the first time, thus, we discern a
-provision for the future, and also a common tilling of the soil. The
-gathering of the fruits generally devolves upon the woman alone. But
-even among the Papuans this first step in the direction of agriculture
-is found only here and there. The possibility of external influences
-therefore remains.
-
-Far superior to the Papuan race is the Micronesian population,
-which, as regards its racial traits, is intermediate between the
-Melanesians and the Polynesians. Migration and racial fusion here
-become increasingly important cultural factors. In their beginnings,
-these factors already manifest themselves in the wanderings of the
-Papuan and Negrito tribes. One of the most striking discoveries of
-modern ethnology is the finding of distinct traces of Papuan-Negritic
-culture in regions, such as the west coast of Africa, which are very
-remote from the original home of the culture in question. The Papuan
-races likewise wandered far across the Indian Ocean. Obviously there
-were Papuan migrations, probably in repeated trains, from New Guinea
-across the Torres Strait to Northern Australia, where they seem to
-have influenced social institutions and customs as well as external
-culture. Above the level of the Negrito and Papuan peoples, who, in
-their numerous fusions, themselves form several strata, we finally have
-the Malayo-Polynesian population. The Malayo-Polynesians are widely
-spread over the tropical and sub-tropical regions of the earth. Because
-of their significance for the particular stage of totemism now under
-discussion, we have called the entire cultural period by their name.
-The fragments of the Negrito and Papuan races, which are scattered
-here and there over limited sections of the broad territory covered by
-the wanderings of these tribes, apparently represent remnants of the
-original inhabitants. As the result of long isolation, certain groups
-of these peoples have remained on a very primitive plane, as have, for
-example, the above-described inland tribes of Malacca, or the peoples
-of Ceylon and of other islands of the Indian archipelago. Others have
-mingled with the Malays, who have come in from the mainland of India,
-and with them have formed the numerous levels and divisions of the
-Malayo-Polynesian race. This accounts for the fact that this Oceanic
-group of peoples includes a great many forms of culture, which are
-not, however, susceptible of any sharp demarcation. The culture of
-the Negritos and the Papuans, on the one hand, is as primitive as is
-that of the Australians--indeed, isolated fragments of perished races
-were even more primitive than are the Australians; on the other hand,
-however, some of the Malayo-Polynesian peoples are already decidedly in
-advance of any other people whose culture falls within the totemic age.
-
-The chief ethnological problem relating to these groups of peoples
-concerns the origin of the Malays, who, without doubt, have given the
-greatest impetus to the cultural development of these mixed races.
-This problem is as yet unsolved, and is perhaps insolvable. The Malay
-type, however, particularly on its physical side, points to Eastern
-Asia. The resemblance to the Mongolians as regards eyes, skull,
-and colour of skin is unmistakable. At the same time, however, the
-original Malays probably everywhere mixed with the native inhabitants,
-remnants of whom have survived in certain places, particularly in
-the inaccessible forest regions of the Malayan archipelago. Now, the
-Malays were obviously, even in very early times, a migratory people.
-Their wanderings, in fact, were far more extensive than any other
-folk-migrations with which we are familiar in the history of Occidental
-peoples. Starting, as we may suppose, in Central Asia, that great
-cradle of the human race, they spread to the coasts, particularly
-to Indo-China, and then to the large islands of Sunda, Sumatra, and
-Borneo, to Malacca, and, farther, over the entire region of Oceania.
-Here, by mixture with the native population, they gave rise to a new
-race, the Polynesians proper. But the Polynesian portion of the race
-also preserved the migratory impulse. Thus, the Malayans were the
-first to create a perfected form of boat, and to it the Polynesians
-added many new features. Thenceforth the Malay was not restricted to
-dangerous coast voyages, as was the case with the use of such boats as
-those of the Australians or the Papuans of New Guinea. It was a boat
-of increased size, equipped with sails and oars and often artistically
-fitted out, in which the Malay traversed the seas. With the aid of
-these boats--which were, at best, small and inadequate for a voyage
-on the open sea--and at a time when the compass was as yet unheard of
-and only the starry heavens could give approximate guidance to their
-course, the Malays and Polynesians traversed distances extending from
-the Philippines to New Zealand. Of course, these expeditions advanced
-only stage by stage, from island to island. This is shown by the
-legends of the Maoris of New Zealand, who were clearly the first of the
-Polynesians to migrate, and who therefore remained freest from mixture
-with strange races. The same fact is attested by the great changes in
-dialect which the Malayan language underwent even in the course of the
-migrations of the Malays--changes which lead us to infer that to many
-of the island regions settled by these peoples there were repeated
-waves of immigration separated by intervals of centuries.
-
-Connected with this is a further important factor--one which exercised
-a destructive influence upon the original totemism, only a few traces
-of which have survived among these tribes. The boatman, alone on the
-broad seas, with only the starry firmament to direct his course, turns
-his gaze involuntarily to the world of stars which serves as his
-guide. Thus, particularly in Polynesia, there sprang up a celestial
-mythology. This, in turn, again reacted upon the interpretation of
-terrestrial objects. By breaking up tribes and their divisions,
-furthermore, the migrations destroyed the former tribal organization
-and, through the influence gained by occasional bold leaders on such
-expeditions, gave rise to new forms of rulership. An added factor was
-the change of environment, the effect of which was noticeable even at
-the beginning of totemic culture in the influence which the Papuan
-migration exercised upon the northern parts of Australia--the parts
-most accessible to it. The Oceanic Islands are as poor in animal life
-as they are rich in plants. The totemic ideas prevalent in these
-regions, therefore, came more and more to lose their original basis.
-This accounts for the fact that the entire domain is characterized by
-_two_ phenomena which are far in advance of anything analogous that may
-be found on similar cultural levels in other parts of the earth. One
-of these--namely, the development of a celestial mythology--scarcely
-occurs anywhere else in so elaborate a form. Of course, we also find
-many clear traces of the influence of celestial phenomena in the
-mythological conceptions of the Babylonians and Egyptians, of the
-Hindoos, the Greeks, the Germans, etc. But the elements of celestial
-mythology have here been so assimilated by terrestrial legend-material
-and by heroic figures as to be inseparable from them. Thus, the
-celestial elements have in general become secondary features of
-mythological conceptions whose characteristic stamp is derived from the
-natural phenomena of man's immediate environment. Even the celestial
-origin of these elements has been almost entirely lost to the popular
-consciousness which comes to expression in the legend. The case is
-entirely different with the celestial mythology of the Polynesians,
-particularly as it occurs in the legends of the Maoris. In the latter,
-the celestial movements, as directly perceived, furnish a large part
-of the material for the mythical tales. These deal with the ascent of
-ancestors into the heavens or their descent from heaven, and with the
-wanderings and destinies of the original ancestors, who are regarded
-as embodied in the sun, moon, and stars; thus, they differ from the
-mythologies of most cultural peoples, in that they are not simply deity
-legends that suggest celestial phenomena in only occasional details.
-Moreover, no mention of ancestral or totem animal occurs in Polynesian
-mythology. There are only occasional legends, associated with the
-mighty trees of this island-world, that may perhaps be traceable to
-the plant totems of Melanesia. Such being the conditions, it might
-seem that, in any case, we are not justified in including the entire
-Malayo-Polynesian culture within the totemic age. Nevertheless, quite
-apart from the fact that the other phases of external culture are
-all such as indicate the totemic stage of development, the obviously
-primitive character of the celestial legends themselves--for they
-have not as yet developed true hero and deity conceptions--marks this
-culture as one of transition. Its totemic basis has almost disappeared;
-yet the earlier manner of securing food, the modes of dress, the
-decoration, and the belief in spirits and magic have essentially
-remained, even though decoration and weapons, particularly, have
-undergone a far richer development. Thus, the external decoration of
-the body reached its highest perfection in the artistic dot-patterns
-exemplified in the tattooing of the Polynesians. The origin of this
-bodily adornment is here again probably to be traced to magical
-beliefs. The Polynesians also possess carved wooden idols and
-fantastically shaped masks. To the bow and the lance they have added
-the knife and the sword; to the long shield, the small, round shield,
-which serves for defence in the more rapid movements of single combat.
-Many localities also have a peculiar social institution, likewise bound
-up with the development of warfare initiated by migration and strife.
-This institution consists in an exclusive organization comprising
-age-groups and the men's club. The latter, in turn, are themselves
-symptomatic of the disintegration of the original totemic tribal
-divisions. There is, moreover, _one_ further custom, _taboo_, which
-has grown up under totemic influences and has received its richest
-development with manifold transformations and ramifications within
-this very transitional culture of Polynesia. The earliest form of
-taboo, which consists in the prohibition of eating the flesh of the
-totem animal, has, it is true, disappeared. But the idea of taboo has
-been transferred to a great number of other things, to sacred places,
-to objects and names, to the person and property of individuals,
-particularly of chiefs and priests. The tremendous influence of these
-phenomena, whose origin is closely intertwined with totemism, clearly
-shows that this entire culture belongs essentially to the totemic age.
-
-Very different is the _third_ stage of totemic culture. As was remarked
-above, this falls into two essentially distinct divisions of apparently
-very different origin. American culture, on the one hand, represents
-a remarkable offshoot of totemic beliefs; besides this there is the
-African culture, which, because of peculiar conditions, again connected
-with racial fusion, is, in part, far in advance of the totemic age,
-though in some details it clearly represents a unique development of
-it. To one who wishes to gain a coherent picture of totemic culture,
-nothing, indeed, is more surprising than the fact that foremost among
-the peoples who may be regarded as the representatives of this great
-epoch are the Australians. Strange to say, the condition of the
-Australians approximates to that of primitive man. On the other hand,
-the North American Indians, particularly those of the Atlantic Coast
-regions, may be classed among semi-cultural peoples, and yet they seem,
-at first glance, to have made exactly the same _social_ application of
-totemic ideas as have the Australians. The typical tribal organization
-of the Australians and that of the Iroquois tribes who formerly lived
-in the present state of New York, are, in fact, so very similar that
-a superficial view might almost cause them to appear identical. This
-is all the more surprising since we have not the slightest ground
-for supposing any transference of institutions. That which makes
-the similarity so striking is primarily the fact that the single
-groups or clans are designated by animal names, that they entertain
-the conception of an animal ancestor, and that the regular tribal
-organization is based on the principle of dual division. Nevertheless,
-the more advanced culture of the Iroquois has already led to certain
-changed conditions. The animal ancestor recedes to some extent. In
-its stead, there are associated with the animal other conceptions,
-such as are connected with more systematically conducted hunting. The
-American Indian, in contrast to the Australian, no longer regards the
-totem animal as a wonderful and superior being, to be hunted only with
-fear and not to be used for food if this can possibly be avoided. He
-requires for his subsistence all the game available. Hence he does
-not practise the custom of abstaining from the flesh of the totem
-animal. On the other hand, he observes ceremonies of expiation, such
-as are unknown to the Australian. The totem ceremonies of the latter
-are chiefly objective means of magic designed to bring about the
-increase of the totem animals. This idea appears among the Indians
-likewise. Their totem ceremony, however, has also an essentially
-subjective significance and is concerned with the past no less than
-with the future. Its object is to obtain forgiveness for the slaying
-of the animal, whether this has preceded or is to follow the act of
-expiation. Connected with these customs is a further difference, which
-is seemingly insignificant but which is nevertheless characteristic.
-Whereas the Australian, in many regions, thinks of the totem animal
-as his ancestor, the Indian of the prairies speaks of the buffaloes
-as his elder brothers. Thus, among the Indian tribes, man and animal
-still stand on an equal footing. Hence the animal must be conciliated
-if it is to serve as food for man. In many of the myths of the American
-Indians, a man is transformed into an animal or, conversely, an animal
-assumes the human form. Hand in hand with this change in cult ideas and
-customs appear the richer forms of external culture. The weapons are
-perfected; dress becomes more complete; decoration of the body itself,
-though it does not disappear, more and more finds its substitute in
-the rich embellishment of the clothing. Social organization becomes
-stable, and advances beyond the original tribal limits. The tribes
-choose permanent chieftains and, in times of war, enter into group
-alliances with one another. Thus, tribal organization paves the way for
-the formation of States, though fixed rulership has not as yet been
-established. In so far, the democratic organization of North America
-later instituted by the Europeans, shows a trace of similarity to the
-free tribal alliances of the natives who had inhabited the country for
-centuries. For the most part, moreover, the Indians were familiar with
-agriculture, though, of course, in the primitive form of hoe-culture.
-Man himself tilled his field with the hoe, since plough and draught
-animals were wanting. But a firmer organization is revealed in the
-fact that the individual did not go to the field alone, followed by
-the woman who scatters the seed, but that the land was prepared by the
-common labour of the clan. This caused the rise of great vegetation
-festivals, with their accompanying ceremonies. In external details also
-these far surpassed the cult festivals which the Australians hold in
-connection with the adolescence of the youths or for the purpose of
-multiplying the animal or plant totems which serve as human food.
-
-The conditions differ in the southern and, to some extent also,
-in the western portion of the great American continent. Closely
-related as the various tribes are, the old hypothesis that they
-migrated from Asia across Behring Strait is untenable. Moreover, in
-spite of their physical relationship and, in part also, of their
-linguistic similarities, their culture shows important differences.
-In the southern and central parts of America particularly, we find
-widely different cultural levels, ranging from the forest Indians
-of Brazil, who have made scarcely any essential advance beyond the
-primitive culture of the Veddahs or of the natives of Malacca,
-to the tribes of New Mexico and Arizona, who have obviously been
-influenced by the cultural peoples of the New World, and, under this
-influence, have undergone an independent development. All advances
-that they have made, however, clearly depend upon the development of
-agriculture. In addition to numerous elements of celestial mythology
-that have found their way from Mexico, we find vegetation cults and
-agricultural ceremonies. The latter are often closely fused with the
-borrowed mythology, particularly among the semi-cultural peoples of
-the central region of America. These cults--sometimes governed by
-totemic conceptions, while in other cases dominated by celestial
-mythology--underlie the development of art throughout the whole of
-America. Whereas the chief expression of the æsthetic impulse in
-Polynesia is the decoration of the body, particularly by means of
-tattooing, this practice is secondary, in the case of the American
-Indian, to the possession of external means of adornment. It is
-primarily the beautiful plumage of the bird kingdom that furnishes
-the decorations of the head and of the garment. At the ceremonies of
-the Zunis and other New Mexican tribes, the altars are decked with
-the feathers of birds. These festivals exhibit a wealth of colour and
-a complexity of ceremonial performances that have always aroused the
-astonishment of the strangers who have been able to witness them. The
-decoration of garments, of altars, and of festal places is paralleled
-in its development by that of the pictorial decoration of clay vessels.
-Here for the first time we have a developed art of ceramics which
-employs ornamentations, pictures of totemic animals, and combinations
-of the two or transitional forms. Originally, no doubt, these
-ornamentations were intended as means of magic, but they came more and
-more to serve the purposes of decoration. All of these factors exert
-an influence on the numerous cult dances. All over America, from the
-Esquimos in the north far down to the south, a very important part of
-the equipment of the dancers is the mask. This mask reproduces either
-animal features or some fantastic form intermediate between man and
-animal. Thus, this culture is of a peculiar nature. Even externally it
-combines the huntsman's culture with that of the tiller of the soil,
-although in its agriculture it has not advanced beyond the level of
-hoe-culture. As compared with Malayo-Polynesian culture, however,
-it presents an important additional factor. This consists in the
-community of labour, which is obviously connected with the more stable
-tribal organization and with the development of more comprehensive cult
-associations. It is this factor that accounts for those great cult
-festivals that are associated with sowing and harvest and that extend
-far down into the higher civilizations, as numerous rudimentary customs
-still testify.
-
-The changes which we likewise find in mythological conceptions also
-carry us beyond the narrow circle of original totemism. Again there
-appear elements of a nature-mythology, particularly of a celestial
-mythology. These supplant the animal cult, but nevertheless retain
-some connection with the totem animal; the culture is one in which the
-totem animal never entirely loses its earlier significance. Thus, the
-vegetation festivals, especially those of North and Central America,
-exhibit many cult forms in which ideas that belong to a celestial
-mythology combine with the worship of animals and of ancestors. The
-conceptions of ancestors and of gods thus play over into one another,
-and these god-ancestors are believed to have their seat in the clouds
-and in the heavens above. However constantly, therefore, totemic ideas
-may be in evidence within the field of external phenomena, a much
-superior point of view is attained, by the American races, as regards
-the inner life.
-
-Among the _African_ peoples we find the second important form of
-culture belonging to this third stage--a culture which in many respects
-diverges from the one which we have just described. More clearly even
-than in the case of America has the idea been disproven that the
-inhabitants of the interior of Africa are essentially a homogeneous
-race that has developed independently of external influences. Even
-more than other peoples, the Africans show the effects of great and
-far-reaching external influences. Hamitic and Semitic tribes entered
-the country from the north at an early time; even from the distant
-south of Asia, probably from Sumatra and its neighbouring islands,
-great waves of immigration, crossing Madagascar in the distant past,
-swept on towards the west even to the Gold Coast, introducing elements
-of Papuan-Negritic culture into Africa. There were frequent fusions
-between these tribes and the negro peoples proper, as well as with
-the Hamites, the Semites, and also with those who were probably the
-original inhabitants of this region, remnants of whom are still to be
-found in the Bushmen. The negro race, which, relatively speaking, has
-remained the purest, lives in the Soudan region; the Bantus inhabit the
-south of Africa; the north is occupied mostly by Hamitic tribes, whose
-advent into this region was followed by that of a people of related
-origin, the Semites. Corresponding to the racial mixtures that thus
-arose, there are various forms of culture. As regards the Bantus, it
-is highly probable that they are a mixed people, sprung from a union
-of the Soudan negroes with the Hamites. That the Hamites pressed on,
-in very early times, into southern Africa, is proved by the Hottentot
-tribe, whose language exhibits Hamitic characteristics, and the colour
-of whose skin, furthermore, is lighter than that of the negro proper or
-that of the Bantu. The language of the Bantus shows traits resembling
-partly the negro idioms of the Soudan and partly Hamitic-Asiatic
-characteristics. The element of culture, however, which is peculiar to
-the Hamites and which was introduced by them into the northern part
-of the continent, is the raising of cattle and of sheep. There can be
-scarcely any doubt that the African cattle originally came from Asia.
-Probably, however, cattle were brought to Africa on the occasion of
-two different Hamitic migrations; this is indicated by the fact that
-two breeds of cattle are found in Africa. Moreover, it is clear that,
-at the time of their introduction, cattle were not totem animals, but
-had already gained a position intermediate between the totem and the
-breeding animal. The Hottentot, as well as the Bantu, prizes his cattle
-as his dearest possession. Since, however, he slaughters them only
-in times of extreme necessity, he has progressed only to the point
-of obtaining a milk supply. Yet even this represents an important
-advance. Owing to his efforts, the cow no longer merely provides the
-calf with milk, as in the natural state, but, long after the time of
-suckling has passed, places the milk at man's disposal. Everywhere
-in the interior of Africa the cow is still a common milk animal. As
-such, it is a highly prized source of nourishment, but it is not used
-for agricultural purposes. Thus, its position is midway between that
-of the original totem animal of cult and that of the draught animal.
-For the Hottentot, cattle are objects of supreme value. As such, they
-are accorded a certain degree of reverence. They are not utilized as
-beasts of burden nor for slaughter, but only as a source of such means
-of nourishment as do not cost their lives. South Africa, therefore,
-has remained on the level of hoe-culture. The boundary between these
-southern districts in which hoe-culture and the nomadic life prevail
-and the northern regions into which the Hamites and Semites have
-introduced plough-culture is, practically speaking, the desert of
-Sahara. It is only when the animal is used to draw the plough that
-it becomes in all respects a useful animal. Thenceforth it no longer
-merely gives its milk for food, but it performs the work that is
-too hard for man, and, finally, as an animal of slaughter, it takes
-the place of the gradually disappearing wild animal of the chase.
-Coincident with this development, totemic ideas and customs disappear.
-Though these have still left distinct traces in the south, particularly
-among the Bantus, it is, at most, isolated survivals that remain among
-the Hamitic population of the north.
-
-Thus, the animal has come to be a breeding and a work animal throughout
-the whole of Africa, though this is particularly the case wherever
-the cultural influences of the immigrant peoples from the East have
-been operative. The relations of man to man have likewise undergone
-a change in this locality, due, in part, to migrations and tribal
-wars. No region so much as Africa has become the centre of despotic
-forms of government. It is this factor, together with the potent
-influence of ideas of personal property associated with it, that has
-contributed, on the one hand, to the origin of polygyny, and, on the
-other, to the rise of slavery. Long before Africa became the slave
-market of the New World it harboured an intertribal traffic in human
-beings. These changes in culture undermined the older cults, so that,
-with the dissolution of the totemic tribal organization, the original
-totem conceptions disappeared from all parts of this region. All the
-more marked was the progress of animism and fetishism, of which the
-former is closely connected, in its origin, with totem belief, while
-the latter is a sort of degenerate totemism. In certain regions,
-furthermore, as among the Bantus and the Hamitic tribes, another
-outgrowth of the cult of the dead--namely, ancestor worship--has gained
-great prominence alongside of elements of a celestial mythology.
-
-To a far greater extent than in Africa, totemic culture has almost
-entirely disappeared throughout the entire _Asiatic_ world. Only in the
-extreme north among the Tchuktchis, the Yakutes, and Ghilyaks, and in
-the far south among the Dravidian tribes of Hindustan who were pushed
-back by the influx of Hindoos, have remnants of totemic institutions
-survived. In addition to these, only scanty fragments of totemism
-proper may be found in Asia--the home of the great cultural peoples
-of the Old World. Surviving effects of totemic culture, however, are
-everywhere apparent, no less in the sacred animals of the Babylonians,
-Egyptians, Hindoos, Greeks, and the Germanic peoples, than in the
-significance attached by the Romans to the flight of birds and to the
-examination of entrails, and in the Israelitic law which forbids the
-eating of the flesh of certain animals.
-
-In the light of all these facts, the conclusion appears highly probable
-that at some time totemic culture everywhere paved the way for a more
-advanced civilization, and, thus, that it represents a transitional
-stage between the age of primitive man and the era of heroes and gods.
-
-
-
-3. TOTEMIC TRIBAL ORGANIZATION.[1]
-
-
-As has already been stated, the beginning of the totemic age is not
-marked by any essential change in external culture. As regards dress,
-decoration, and the acquisition of food, the conditions that we meet,
-particularly among the natives of Central Australia, differ scarcely at
-all from those of the primitive races of the pretotemic age. It is only
-in the weapons, which are already clearly indicative of tribal warfare,
-that we find an unmistakable external indication of deeper-going
-differences in social culture. At the same time, however, the totemic
-age includes peoples whose general manner of life we are accustomed to
-call semi-cultural. The greatest contrast occurs between the natives of
-Australia and of some of the portions of Melanesia, on the one hand,
-and those of North America, particularly of the eastern part, on the
-other. While the former still live the primitive life of the gatherer
-and the hunter, the latter possess the rudiments of agriculture, as
-well as the associated cult festivals, the beginnings of a celestial
-mythology, and richer forms of legend and poetry. Nevertheless, as
-regards the most universal characteristic of totemic culture, namely,
-the _form of tribal organization_, the two groups of peoples differ but
-slightly, although conditions in Australia have on the whole remained
-more primitive. This is most clearly shown by the fact that, among the
-Australian natives, the totem animal possesses the significance of a
-cult object, whereas in America, and particularly among the Atlantic
-tribes, whose totemic practices have received the most careful study,
-the totem animal has obviously come to be a mere coat of arms. The
-difference might, perhaps, be briefly stated thus: In Australia,
-the totem names signify groups of cult members within a clan; in
-America, they are the designations of clans themselves, but these as
-such possess no cult significance. In both regions, however, tribal
-organization follows the principle of dual division. The tribe first
-divides into two tribal halves (I and II); then each of these separates
-into two clans (A and B, C and D); finally, the latter again break up
-into subclans, so that eventually we may have eight tribal divisions.
-In certain cases, the division has not advanced beyond the dual form;
-the upper limit, on the other hand, seems to be eight distinct groups.
-The schemata representing tribal organization in Australia and in
-America are so similar that it is easy to
-
-                   Kamilaroi
-                   (Central Australians)
-
-        I                                   II
-       / \                                 /  \
-      A   B                               C    D
-    mnop qrst                           mpqs  nort
-
-                   Seneca
-                   (Iroquois)
-
-        I                                   II
-       / \                                 /  \
-     /     \                             /      \
-  ----     ----                       ----      ----
-  |  |     |  |                       |  |      |  |
-  A  B     C  D                       E  F      G  H
-
-understand how most authors have come to regard conditions in the
-two countries as essentially identical. Yet the divergence in the
-nomenclature of the tribal divisions points to significant differences.
-The fact is that the clan names of the Australians are entirely
-different from the totem names. The former have, as a rule, become
-unintelligible to the present-day native, and, since many of them recur
-among distinct tribes who now speak different dialects, they probably
-derive from an older age. Words such as Ipai, Kumbo, Murri, Kubbi,
-etc., may originally, perhaps, have possessed a local significance. At
-any rate, clan names but rarely consist of the names of animals. On
-the other hand, such words as emu, kangaroo, opossum, eagle-hawk, and
-others, are the regular designations of the clans composing the totem
-groups. The case is otherwise among the North American Indians. Here
-the clans all have animal names. Nor can we anywhere find alongside of
-the clans any particular totem groups which might be regarded as cult
-alliances. The schema shown on p. 141 exhibits these relations. The
-tribal halves are designated by I and II, the clans by A, B, C, etc,
-and the independent totem groups existing within the individual clans
-by _m, n, o, p,_ etc.
-
-Owing to the external similarity of the tribal organizations, it has
-generally been thought that the totem groups of the Australians are
-merely clans or subclans, such as are, doubtless, the social groups
-of the American Indians, designated by similar totem names. This
-interpretation, however, has unquestionably led to serious confusion,
-particularly in the description of the tribal organization of the
-Australians. A study of the detailed and very valuable contributions of
-Howitt and of other early investigators of the sociological conditions
-of Australia, inevitably leaves the impression that, particularly as
-regards the interpretation of the various group names, the scholars
-were labouring under misconceptions which caused the relations to
-appear more complex than they really are. Such misconceptions were
-all the more possible because the investigators in question were
-entirely ignorant of the languages of the natives, and were therefore
-practically dependent upon the statements of their interpreters. Under
-these circumstances we may doubtless be allowed a certain degree of
-scepticism as to the acceptance of these reports, especially when they
-also involve an interpretation of phenomena; and we may be permitted an
-attempt to discover whether a different conception of the significance
-of the various group names may not give us a clearer picture of
-the phenomena, and one that is also more adequate when the general
-condition of the inhabitants is taken into account. The conditions
-prevalent among the American Indians are in general much easier to
-understand than are those of the Australians, particularly where the
-old tribal organization has been preserved with relative purity,
-as among the Iroquois. In this case, however, the totem names have
-obviously become pure clan designations without any cult significance.
-Now this has not occurred among the Australians; for them, the totem
-animal has rather the status of a cult object common to the members
-of a group. The fact that the Australians have separate names for the
-clans, as was remarked above, whereas the American Indians have come
-to designate clans by totem names, provides all the more justification
-for attributing essentially different meanings to the two groups
-that bear totem names. In attempting to reach a more satisfactory
-interpretation of totemic tribal organization, therefore, we shall
-consider those totem groups which are obviously in a relatively early
-stage of development--namely, the Australian groups--simply as _cult
-associations_ which have found a place within the tribal divisions or
-clans, but whose original significance is of an absolutely different
-nature. In the above schema, therefore, A, B, C, D, etc., represent
-tribal divisions or clans, _m, n, o, p,_ etc., cult groups. The latter
-are lacking in the part of the diagram which refers to the American
-Indians, since these have no cult associations that are independent
-of the tribal divisions; indeed, the old totem names have lost their
-former cult significance and have become mere clan names. Thus, the
-conception here advanced differs from the usual one in that it gives
-a different significance to the totem names on the two levels of
-development. In the case of the Australians, we regard them as the
-names of _cult groups_; in America, where the totem cult proper has
-receded or has disappeared, we regard them as _mere clan names_.
-But the extension of totem names to the entire clan organization in
-the latter case is not, as it were, indicative of a more developed
-totemism, but rather of _a totemism in the state of decline_. The
-totem animal, though here also at one time an object of cult, is such
-no longer, but has become a mere coat of arms. In support of this
-view of American totem names, we might doubtless also refer to the
-so-called totem poles. Such a pole consists of a number of human
-heads representing the ancestors of the clan, and is crowned by the
-head of the totem animal. This is obviously symbolic of the idea that
-this succession of generations has as its symbol the totem animal that
-surmounts it--that is, the totem pole is an enlarged coat of arms.
-
-Because of the great regularity of its occurrence, the dual form of
-tribal division must be regarded as everywhere due to the same cause.
-Concerning its origin there can scarcely be any doubt. Obviously it has
-no real connection with totemism itself. This explains why the tribal
-divisions originally derived their names, not from the totem, but from
-localities or from other external sources, as the conditions among
-the Australians would seem to indicate. A phenomenon which recurs in
-widely distant regions with such regularity as does dual division, is
-scarcely intelligible except by reference to the general conditions
-attendant upon the spread of peoples. A tribe leading the unsettled
-life of gatherers and hunters must of inner necessity separate as
-its numbers increase or as the food-supply begins to fail. It is but
-natural that the tribe should first separate into two divisions on the
-basis of the hunting-grounds which the members occupy; the same process
-may then repeat itself in the case of each division. The fact that
-when deviations from the principle of dual division are found, they
-are most likely to occur in the subordinate groups, is also in harmony
-with the view that the divisions are due to the natural conditions of
-dispersion. For, in the case of the subordinate groups, one of the
-smaller units might, of course, easily disintegrate or wander to a
-distance and lose its connection with the tribe.
-
-
-[1] The survey presented in this and in the following section aims
-to give only a general outline of the relations between totemism and
-tribal organization, as based particularly on several tribes of Central
-Australia. For a more detailed account of the conditions and of their
-probable interpretation, I would refer to a paper on "Totemism and
-Tribal Organization in Australia," published, in 1914, in _Anthropos_,
-an international journal.
-
-
-
-4. THE ORIGIN OF EXOGAMY.
-
-
-Though the dual organization of the tribe seems to admit of a
-comparatively simple and easy explanation, the totemic exogamy which is
-closely bound up with it offers great difficulties. As we have already
-seen, totemic exogamy is characterized by the fact that a member of one
-specific clan, or of a totem group belonging to the clan, may enter
-into marriage only with a member of another clan or totem group.
-This restriction of the marriage relationship is generally known as
-'exogamy,' a term first introduced by the Scottish ethnologist and
-historian, McLennan. In order to distinguish this custom from later
-regulations of marriage, such, for example, as exist in present law,
-in the prohibition of the union of relatives by blood or by marriage,
-we may call it more specifically 'totemic exogamy.' Totemic exogamy
-clearly represents the earliest form of marriage restriction found
-in custom or law. The phenomena bound up with it may be regarded as
-having arisen either contemporaneously with the first division of the
-tribe or, at any rate, soon thereafter, for some of the Australian
-and Melanesian tribes practise exogamy even though they have not
-advanced beyond a twofold division of the tribe. On the other hand,
-the primitive horde of the pretotemic age remains undivided, and, of
-course, shows no trace of exogamy. True, marriages between parents
-and children seem to have been avoided as early even as in pretotemic
-times. But this could hardly have been due to the existence of firmly
-established norms of custom. Such norms never developed except under
-the influence of totemic tribal organization, and they are closely
-related to its various stages of development.
-
-Taking as the basis of consideration the above-mentioned conditions in
-Australia, where an approximate regularity in the successive stages
-of this development is most clearly in evidence, we may distinguish
-particularly _three_ main forms of exogamy. The first is the simplest.
-If we designate the two divisions of the tribe between which exogamic
-relations obtain, by A and B, and the various subgroups of A by _l,
-m, n, o,_ and of B by _p, q, r, s,_ we have, as this simplest form,
-_unlimited exogamy_. It corresponds to the following schema:--
-
-               I. _Unlimited Exogamy._
-
-           A                             B
-      _l m n o                       p q r s_
-           |______________________________|
-
-This means: A man belonging to Class A may take in marriage a woman
-from any of the subgroups of Class B, and conversely. Marriage is
-restricted to the extent that a man may not take a wife from his own
-class; it is unrestricted, however, in so far as he may select her from
-any of the subgroups of the other class. This form of exogamy does not
-appear to occur except where the divisions of the tribe are not more
-than two in number. The marriage classes, A and B, then represent the
-two divisions of the tribe; the subgroups _l, m, n, o, p,..._ are totem
-groups--that is to say, according to the view maintained above, cult
-groups. For the most part, marriage relationships between the specific
-cult groups meet with no further restrictions. A man of Class A may
-marry a woman belonging to any of the totem groups _p, q, r, s,_ of
-Class B--it is only union with a woman belonging to one of the totem
-groups of Class A that is denied him. Nevertheless, as we shall notice
-later, we even here occasionally find more restricted relations between
-particular totem groups, and it is these exceptions that constitute
-the transitional steps to limited exogamy. Such transitions to the
-succeeding form of exogamy are to be found, for example, among the
-Australian Dieri, some of whose totem groups intermarry, only with some
-one particular group of the other tribal division.
-
-The _second_ form of exogamy occurs when a member of Class A is not
-allowed to take in marriage any woman he may choose from Class B, but
-only one from some specific sub-group of B. For example, a man of group
-_n_ is restricted to a woman of group _r_.
-
-II. _Limited Exogamy with Direct Maternal or Paternal
-Descent._
-
-         A                                B
-   _l m n o                          p q r s_
-          |________________________________|
-
-Both forms of exogamy, the unlimited and the limited, observe the
-same law with respect to the group affiliation of children. If, as
-universally occurs in Australia, A and B are clans having exogamous
-relations, and _l, m, n, o, p,..._ are totem groups within these
-clans, then, if maternal descent prevails, the children remain both
-in the clan and in the totem of the mother; in the case of paternal
-descent, they pass over to the clan and to the totem of the father.
-Of these modes of reckoning descent, the former is dominant, and was
-everywhere, probably, the original custom. One indication of this is
-the connection of paternal descent with other phenomena representing a
-change of conditions due to external influences--the occurrence of the
-same totem groups, for example, in the two clans, A and B, that enjoy
-exogamous relations. The latter phenomenon is not to be found under
-the usual conditions, represented by diagrams I and II. In the case
-of unlimited exogamy (I), no less than in that of limited exogamy, we
-find that if, for example, maternal descent prevails, and, the mother
-belongs to clan B and to totem group _r_, the children likewise belong
-to this group _r_. This condition is much simplified in the case of the
-American Indians. With them, totem group and clan coincide, the totem
-names having become the names of the clans themselves. The particular
-totem groups, _l, m, n, o, p,..._ do not exist. Exogamous relations
-between clans A and B consist merely in the fact that a man of the one
-clan is restricted in marriage to women of the other clan. Wherever
-maternal descent prevails, as it does, for example, among the Iroquois,
-the children are counted to the clan of the mother; in the case of
-paternal descent, they belong to the clan of the father.
-
-In the Australian system, however, which distinguishes clan and totem,
-and therefore, as we may suppose, still exemplifies, on the whole, an
-uninterrupted development, we find also a _third_ form of exogamous
-relationship. This last form of exogamy seems to be the one which is
-most common in Australia, whereas, of course, it has no place in the
-pure clan exogamy of the American Indians. The system indicated in
-diagram II, in which children belong directly to the clan of the mother
-in maternal descent and to that of the father in paternal descent, may
-be designated as limited exogamy with direct maternal or paternal
-descent. There developed from this a third system, in which, while
-the children are counted to the _clan_ of the parent who determines
-descent, they nevertheless become members of a different totem group.
-Thus arises a limited exogamy with _indirect_ maternal or paternal
-descent, as represented in diagram III.
-
-III. _Limited Exogamy, with Indirect Maternal or Paternal
-Descent._
-
-         A                            B
-    _l m n o                      p q r s_
-       |____________________________|~
-
-
-A man of clan A and totem group _l_ may marry only a woman of clan B
-and totem group _p_; the children, however, do not belong to the totem
-_p_, but to another specifically defined totem group, _q_, of clan B.
-
-The way in which these various forms of exogamy affect the marriage
-relations of the children that are born from such unions is fairly
-obvious. Turning first to form I--unlimited exogamy--it is clear that,
-in the case of maternal descent, which here appears to be the rule,
-none of the children of the mother may marry except into the clan of
-the father; in paternal descent, conversely, they may marry only into
-the clan of the mother. Marriage between brothers and sisters, thus, is
-made impossible. Nor may a son marry his mother where maternal descent
-prevails, or a daughter her father in the case of paternal descent. In
-the former case, however, the marriage of father and daughter would be
-permitted, as would that of mother and son in the latter. The marriage
-of a son or daughter with relatives of the mother who belong to the
-same clan is not allowed in the case of maternal descent. The son,
-for example, may not marry a sister of his mother, nor the daughter
-a brother of the mother, etc. Since it is maternal descent that is
-dominant in the case of unlimited exogamy, the most important result
-of the latter is doubtless its prevention of the marriage of brother
-and sister, in addition to that of a son with his mother. The system
-of paternal descent, of course, involves a corresponding change in
-marriage restrictions.
-
-What, now, are the results of form II--limited exogamy with direct
-maternal or paternal descent? It is at once clear that such exogamy
-prohibits all the various marriage connections proscribed by unlimited
-exogamy. Marriage between brothers and sisters is rendered impossible,
-as is also, in the case of maternal descent, that between a son and
-his mother or the relatives in her clan. Marriage between father and
-daughter, however, is permitted. Where paternal descent prevails,
-these latter conditions are reversed. Although forms I and II are
-to this extent in complete agreement, they nevertheless show a very
-important difference with respect to the prohibitions which they place
-on marriage. In unlimited exogamy, a man is at liberty to marry into
-any totem that belongs to the clan with which his own has exogamous
-relations; in limited exogamy, however, he may marry into only _one_ of
-the totems of such a clan. Thus, the circle within which he may select
-a wife is very materially reduced. Limited exogamy with direct maternal
-or paternal descent, accordingly, means a _reapproach to endogamy_.
-The wife must be chosen from an essentially smaller group, narrowed
-down, in the case of maternal descent, to the more immediate relatives
-of the father, or, in paternal descent, to those of the mother. Such
-a condition is not at all a strict form of exogamy, as is maintained
-by some ethnologists, but is, on the contrary, something of a return
-to endogamy. This point is of decisive importance in determining the
-motives of the remarkable institution of exogamy.
-
-What are the conditions, finally, which obtain in form III--limited
-exogamy with _indirect_ maternal or paternal descent? It is at once
-obvious that marriage between brother and sister is here also excluded.
-Furthermore, another union is prohibited which was permitted in form
-II. For son and daughter, in the case of maternal descent, no longer
-belong to the totem group of the mother, _p_, but pass over into
-another group, say _q_. Not only, therefore, is a son prevented from
-marrying his mother because they both belong to the same clan, but a
-father is forbidden to marry his daughter because he may take only a
-woman of group _p_, to which his wife belongs. No less true is this
-of the son, who now likewise belongs to group _q_, and may therefore
-no longer marry a female relative of his father's, since the group
-_q_ into which he has entered has exogamous connections with another
-totem group of the paternal clan, say with _m_. With this change a step
-to a _stricter exogamy_ is again taken; the earlier restrictions on
-marriage remain, and the possibilities of marriage between relations
-are further reduced by changing the totem of the children. Cousins may
-not marry each other. Thus, the limits of exogamy are here narrower
-than those, for example, which obtain in Germany. It is evident that
-such limitations might become a galling constraint, particularly where
-there is a scarcity of women, as is the case, for the most part, in
-Australia. This has led some of the Australian tribes to the remarkable
-expedient of declaring that a man is not to be regarded as the son of
-his father, but, in the case of maternal descent, as the son of his
-paternal grandfather--a step which practically amounts to transferring
-him into the totem of his father and allowing him to enter into
-marriage with his mother's relatives. This circumvention, reminding one
-of the well-known fictions of Roman law, may have its justification in
-the eyes of the Australians in the fact that they draw practically no
-distinction between the various generations of ancestors.
-
-The three forms of exogamy, accordingly, agree in prohibiting the
-marriage of brothers and sisters and, in so far as maternal descent may
-be regarded as the prevailing system, the marriage of a son with his
-mother. Both these prohibitions, doubtless, and especially the latter,
-reflect a feeling which was experienced by mankind at an early age.
-The aversion to the marriage of a son with his mother is greater than
-that to the marriage of brother and sister or even that of father and
-daughter. Consider the tragedy of OEdipus. It might, perhaps, be less
-horrible were it father and daughter instead of son and mother who
-were involved in the incestuous relation. Marriages between brothers
-and sisters have, of course, sometimes occurred. Thus, as has already
-been remarked, the Peruvian Incas ordained by law that a king must
-marry his sister. In the realm of the Ptolemies, likewise, the marriage
-of brother and sister served the purpose of maintaining purity of
-blood, and even to-day such marriages occur in some of the smaller
-despotic negro states. The custom is probably always the result of the
-subjugation of a people by a foreign line of rulers. Indeed, even the
-Greeks permitted marriage between half-brothers and half-sisters.
-
-Though these natural instincts were less potent in early times than
-in later culture, they may not have been entirely inoperative in the
-development from original endogamy to exogamy. Nevertheless, one would
-scarcely attempt to trace to the blind activity of such instincts those
-peculiar forms of exogamy that appear particularly among the Australian
-tribes. On the contrary, we would here also at once be inclined to
-maintain that the reverse is true, thus following a principle that has
-approved itself in so many other cases. The aversion to marriage with
-relatives has left its impress on our present-day legislation, not so
-much, indeed, in the positive form of exogamy, as in the negative form
-which forbids endogamy within certain limits. _This aversion, however,
-is not the source so much as it is the effect--at least in great
-measure--of the exogamous institutions of early culture._ All the more
-important is the question concerning the origin of these institutions.
-This question, in fact, has already received much attention on the
-part of ethnologists, particularly since the beginning of the present
-century, when it has become more and more possible to study the tribal
-organization of the Australians. Here, however, we must distinguish
-between the general theories that have been advanced concerning the
-causes of exogamy as such--theories which date back in part even to
-a fairly early period--and hypotheses concerning the origin of the
-various forms of exogamy.
-
-Exogamy as such has generally been approached from a rationalistic
-point of view. It has been regarded as an institution voluntarily
-created to obviate the marriage of relatives, and is supposed to have
-arisen contemporaneously with another institution of like purpose,
-namely, tribal division. This view is championed, among other scholars,
-by the able American sociologist, Lewes Morgan, in his book "Ancient
-Society" (1870), and even by Frazer in his comprehensive work "Totemism
-and Exogamy" (1910), which includes in its survey all parts of the
-earth. Frazer says explicitly: 'In the distant past, several wise
-old men must have agreed to obviate the evils of endogamy, and with
-this end in view they instituted a system that resulted in exogamous
-marriage.' Thus, the determinant motive is here supposed to have
-been aversion to the marriage of relatives. According to Morgan's
-hypothesis--an extreme example of rationalistic interpretation--the
-aversion was due to a gradually acquired knowledge that the marriage
-of relatives was injurious in its effects upon offspring. The entire
-institution, thus, is regarded as a eugenic provision. We are to
-suppose that the members of these tribes not only invented this whole
-complicated system of tribal division, but that they foresaw its
-results and for this reason instituted exogamous customs. Were people
-who possess no names for numbers greater than four capable of such
-foresight, it would indeed be an unparalleled miracle. Great social
-transformations, of which one of the greatest is unquestionably the
-transition from the primitive horde to totemic tribal organization,
-are never effected by the ordinances of individuals, but develop of
-themselves through a necessity immanent in the cultural conditions.
-Their effects are never foreseen, but are recognized in their full
-import only after they have taken place. Moreover, as regards the
-question of the injurious effects resulting from the marriage of
-relatives, authorities even to-day disagree as to where the danger
-begins and how great it really is. That the Australians should have
-formed definite convictions in prehistoric times with reference to
-these matters, is absolutely inconceivable. At most, they might
-have felt a certain instinctive repugnance. Furthermore, if these
-institutions were established with the explicit purpose of avoiding
-marriage between relatives, the originators, though manifesting
-remarkable sagacity in their invention, made serious mistakes in their
-calculations. For, in the first place, the first two forms of exogamy
-only partially prevent a union which even endogamous custom avoids,
-namely, that between parents and children; in the second place, the
-transition from unlimited to limited exogamy with direct maternal or
-paternal descent does not involve an increased restriction of marriage
-between relations, but, as we have already seen, marks a retrogression,
-in the sense of a reapproach to endogamy.
-
-The above view, therefore, was for the most part abandoned in favour
-of other, apparently more natural, explanations. Of these we would
-mention, as a second theory, the biological hypothesis of Andrew Lang.
-This author assumes that the younger brothers of a joint family were
-driven out by the stronger and older ones in order to ward off any want
-that might arise from the living together of a large number of brothers
-and sisters, and that these younger brothers were thus obliged to marry
-outside the group. Even this, however, is not an adequate theory of
-exogamy, since it does not explain how the custom has come to apply
-also to the older members of the family group. As a final hypothesis,
-we may mention one which may perhaps be described as specifically
-sociological. In its fundamental aspects it was proposed by MacLennan,
-the investigator who also gave us the word 'exogamy.' MacLennan does
-not regard exogamy as having originated in times of peace, nor even as
-representing voluntarily established norms of custom. He derives it
-from war, and in so doing he appeals to the testimony both of history
-and of legend. As is well known, even the Iliad, the greatest epic of
-the past, portrays as an essential part of its theme a marriage by
-capture. The dissension between Achilles and Agamemnon arose from the
-capture of Briseis, for whom the two leaders of the Achæans quarrelled
-with each other. According to MacLennan, the capture of a woman from a
-strange tribe represents the earliest exogamy. The rape of the Sabines
-is another incident suggesting the same conclusion. True, this is not
-an event of actual history. Nevertheless, legend reflects the customs
-and ideas of the past. Now, in the case under discussion, it is clear
-that marriage by capture involves a foreign and hostile tribe, for this
-is the relation which the Sabines originally sustained to the Romans.
-A significant indication of the connection between marriage by capture
-and war with hostile tribes occurs also in Deuteronomy (ch. xxi.),
-where the law commands the Israelites: 'If in war you see a beautiful
-woman and desire her in marriage, take her with you. Let her for
-several weeks bewail her relatives and her home, and then marry her.
-But if you do not wish to make her your wife, then let her go free;
-you shall not sell her into slavery.' This is a remarkable passage in
-that it forbids the keeping and the selling of female slaves, but, on
-the other hand, permits marriage with a woman of a strange tribe. A
-parallel is found in Judges (ch. xxi.), where it is related that the
-elders of Israel, being prevented by an oath to Jahve from giving their
-own daughters in marriage to the children of Benjamin, advised the
-latter to fall, from ambush, upon a Canaanitic tribe and to steal its
-maidens.
-
-In spite of all these proofs, exogamy and the capture of women from
-strange tribes differ as regards _one_ feature of paramount importance.
-In both legend and history the captured woman is universally of a
-_strange_ tribe, whereas totemic exogamy never occurs except between
-clans of the same tribe. Added to this is a further consideration. The
-above-mentioned passage from Deuteronomy certainly presupposes that the
-Israelite who captures a wife in warfare with a strange tribe already
-possesses a wife from among his own tribe. This is his chief wife, in
-addition to whom he may take the strange woman as a secondary wife.
-We may refer to Hagar, the slave, and to Sarah, Abraham's rightful
-wife, who belonged to his own tribe. The resemblance between exogamy
-and the capture of women in warfare is so far from being conclusive
-that exogamy is permitted only between clans of the same tribal group;
-hence, in cases where there are four or eight subgroups, it is not
-even allowed between members of the two tribal halves. Indeed, the
-essential characteristic of exogamous tribal organization, marriage
-between _specific_ social groups, is entirely lacking in the marriage
-by capture that results from war. Moreover, the woman married under
-exogamous conditions is either the only wife or, if she is the first,
-she is the chief wife; in the case of marriage by capture in war, the
-captured woman is the secondary wife.
-
-
-
-5. MODES OF CONTRACTING MARRIAGE.
-
-
-Though the theory that exogamy originated in the capture of women
-in warfare is clearly untenable, it has without doubt seized upon
-_one_ element of truth. Marriage by capture may also occur within
-one and the same tribe, and under relatively savage conditions this
-happens very frequently. Indeed, it is precisely in the case of the
-Australians, to judge from reports, that such marriage is probably
-as old as the institution of exogamy itself, if not older. Early
-accounts, in particular, give abundant testimony to this effect. That
-later writings give less prominence to the phenomenon does not imply
-its disappearance. The decreased emphasis is due rather to the fact
-that in more recent years the attention of investigators has been
-directed almost exclusively to the newly discovered conditions of
-tribal organization. Even on a more advanced and semi-cultural stage
-we find struggles for the possession of a wife. The struggle, however,
-is regularly carried on, not between members of different groups, much
-less between entirely strange peoples of widely differing language and
-culture, but between members of one and the same tribe. Two or more
-members of a tribe fall into a quarrel for the possession of a woman
-who, though not belonging to their own clan, is nevertheless a member
-of a neighbouring clan of the same tribe. Such conditions are doubtless
-to be traced back to earliest times. The victor wins the woman for
-himself. The custom of marriage by capture has left its traces even
-down to the present, in practices that have for the most part assumed
-a playful character. Originally, however, these practices were without
-doubt of a serious nature, as were all such forms of play that
-originated in earlier customs. Just as ancient exogamous restrictions
-are still operative in the prohibitions which the statutes of all
-cultural peoples place on the marriage of relatives, so the influence
-of marriage by capture is reflected in some of the usages attending the
-consummation of marriage, as well as in various customs, such as the
-purchase of wives and its converse, the dowry, which succeeded marriage
-by capture. Moreover, the fact that marriage by capture occasionally
-occurs even in primitive pretotemic culture and that it is practised
-beyond that circle of tribal organization whose totemic character can
-be positively proved, indicates that it is presumably older than an
-exogamy regulated by strict norms of custom. It is just in Australia,
-that region of the earth where, to a certain extent, the various stages
-of development of exogamy still exist side by side, that we find other
-cultural conditions which make it practically impossible to hold that
-marriage by capture originated in warfare between tribes. Though the
-woman who is here most likely to become an object of dissension between
-brothers or other kinsmen may not belong to the same clan and the
-same totem as the latter, she is nevertheless a member of one of the
-totems belonging to one of the most closely related clans. A woman of
-their own clan is too close to the men of the group to be desired as a
-wife; a woman of a strange tribe, too remote. In the ordinary course
-of events, moreover, there is no opportunity for meeting women of
-other tribes. The slave who is captured in war and carried away as a
-concubine appears only at a far later stage of culture. The original
-struggle for the possession of a woman, therefore, was not carried
-on with members of a strange tribe, as though it were to this that
-the woman belonged. Doubtless also it was only to a slight degree a
-struggle with the captured woman herself--this perhaps represents a
-later transference that already paves the way for the phenomena of mere
-mock-struggles. The real struggle took place between fellow-tribesmen,
-between men of the same clan, both of whom desired the woman. There is
-a possibility, of course, that the kinsmen of the woman might oppose
-her capture. This aspect of the struggle, however, like the opposition
-of the woman herself, was probably unknown prior to the cultural stage,
-when the female members of the clan came to be valued, as they are
-among agricultural and nomadic peoples, because of the services which
-they render to the family. The theory just outlined, moreover, readily
-explains the further development of the conditions that precede the
-consummation of marriage, whereas the theory that marriage by capture
-originated in warfare is in this respect a complete failure. Valuable
-information concerning the later stages in the development of the
-marriage by capture which originates during a state of tribal peace,
-is again furnished by Australian ethnology. Among these peoples, the
-original capture has in many instances passed over into an exchange
-in which the suitor offers his own sister to the brother of the woman
-whom he desires for himself. If this proposal for exchange is accepted
-and he has thereby won the kinsmen of the woman to his side, his
-fellow-contestants may as well give up the struggle. Thus, exogamous
-marriage by capture here gives way to _exogamous marriage by barter_,
-an arrangement in entire harmony with the development of trade in
-general, which always begins with barter. At the same time, the form
-of this barter is the simplest conceivable: a woman is exchanged for a
-woman; the objects of exchange are the same and there is no necessity
-for estimating the values in order to equalize them.
-
-There may be some, however, who do not possess sisters whom they may
-offer in exchange to the men of other clans. What then occurs? In this
-case also it is in Australia that we find the beginnings of a new
-arrangement. In place of offering his sister in exchange, the suitor
-presents a _gift_ to the parents of the bride, at first to the mother.
-Gift takes the place of barter. Since there is no woman who may be
-bartered in exchange, a present is given as her equivalent. Thus we
-have _exogamous marriage by gift_, and, as the custom becomes more
-general and the gift is fixed by agreement, this becomes _exogamous
-marriage by purchase_. The latter, however, probably occurs only at
-a later stage of culture. The man buys the woman from her parents.
-Sometimes, as we know from the Biblical example of Jacob and from
-numerous ethnological parallels, he enters into service in order to
-secure her--he labours for a time in the house of her parents. In an
-age unfamiliar with money, one who has possessions purchases the woman
-with part of his herd or of the produce of his fields. Whoever owns no
-such property, as, for instance, the poor man or the dependent son,
-purchases the woman with his labour.
-
-Marriage by purchase, however, does not represent the terminus of the
-development. On the contrary, it prepares the way for _marriage by
-contract_, an important advance that was already, to a certain extent,
-made by the Greeks, and later particularly by the Romans. Not purchase,
-but a contract between him who concludes the marriage and the parents
-of the woman--this is an arrangement which still finds acceptance with
-us to-day. Now, the marriage contract determines the conditions for
-both bride and groom, and eventually also the marriage portion which
-the man brings to the union, as well as the dowry of the wife. As soon,
-therefore, as property considerations come to be dominant within the
-field of marriage, marriage by contract opens the way for a twofold
-marriage by purchase. The man may either buy the woman, as was done in
-the case of the earlier marriage by purchase, or the woman may buy the
-man with the dowry that she brings. At first, in the days of marriage
-by capture, the struggle with fellow-clansmen or with strangers was
-of decisive importance; at a later time, however, differences in
-property, rank, and occupation came to be the determining factors in
-the case of marriage. Thus, if we regard marriage by gift as a mode of
-marriage by purchase, though, in part, more primitive, and, in part,
-more spontaneous, our summary reveals three main stages: _marriage by
-capture, marriage by purchase_, and _marriage by contract_. Between
-these modes of marriage, of course, there are transitional forms,
-which enable us to regard the course of development as constant. The
-fact, however, that the entire development bears the character of a
-more or less thorough-going exogamy, is due to the _oldest_ of these
-modes of marriage--a mode which, as we may assume, was prevalent at the
-beginning of the totemic age. This is a form of marriage by capture in
-which the woman belonged, not to a strange tribe, but to a neighbouring
-clan of the same tribe, or to one with which there were other lines of
-intercourse. When capture disappeared, the exogamy to which it gave
-rise remained. The old customs connected with the former passed over,
-though more and more in the form of play, into the now peaceful mode of
-marriage by purchase; their survivals continued here and there even in
-the last form of marriage, that by contract.
-
-
-
-6. THE CAUSES OF TOTEMIC EXOGAMY.
-
-
-How does this general development of the modes of marriage account for
-those peculiar laws of exogamy which are universally characteristic of
-totemic culture, representing strict norms of custom that forbid all
-marriage except that between specific clans of a tribe, or even only
-between pairs of totem groups of different clans? Were these marriage
-ordinances, which have evidently arisen in various places independently
-of one another, intentionally invented? Or are they the natural outcome
-of totemic tribal organization, resulting from its inherent conditions,
-just as did the laws of dual tribal division from the natural growth
-and partition of the tribes?
-
-Now, the forms of totemic exogamy unmistakably constitute a
-developmental series. In the simplest arrangement, there are no
-restrictions whatever upon marriage between members of one clan and
-those of another with which marriage relations exist. Such exogamy,
-however, is relatively rare in Australia, the land in which the
-developmental forms of exogamy are chiefly to be found. It seems to
-be limited to tribes that have merely a dual organization, in which
-event the clan coincides with one-half the tribe. Even in such cases we
-find transitions to the next form of exogamy. In this second system,
-exogamy is restricted to particular totems of the two clans of one and
-the same tribal division; and, just as in the first case, the children
-are, as a rule, born directly into the totem group of the mother, or,
-less commonly, into that of the father. Following this exogamy with
-direct maternal or paternal descent and undeniably proceeding out of
-it, we finally have, as the third main form, exogamy with indirect
-maternal or paternal descent. In this form of exogamy, as in the
-preceding ones, the children belong to the totem of the mother or to
-that of the father so far as birth is concerned; as respects their
-exogamous totem relation, however, they pass over into another totem of
-the same clan. Thus, birth-totem and marriage-totem are here distinct,
-and every member of a group belongs to two totems that differ in
-significance. Now, in the case of a marriage by capture in which the
-individuals belong to different clans, the question of the totem does
-not enter. When, therefore, this mode of marriage remains undisturbed
-by further conditions, we have exogamy of the first form. When a suitor
-seeks to win the favour of the clan by means of a gift presented to
-the parents or the kin, marriage by capture passes over directly and
-without further change into the simple marriage by purchase. The two
-more exclusive forms of exogamy, on the other hand, are obviously
-connected with the rise of totemism; they are the result both of
-the clan divisions which follow from tribal partition and of the
-accompanying separation into totem groups. The question, therefore,
-concerning the development of these forms of exogamy, dependent as they
-are both upon clan divisions and upon totem groups, is essentially
-bound up with the question concerning the temporal relation of the two
-important phenomena last mentioned. An unambiguous answer to the latter
-question, however, may be gathered precisely by a study of Australian
-conditions, at least so far as the development in these regions is
-concerned. If we recall our previous schema (p. 141), representing the
-tribal organization of the Kamilaroi, and here, as there, designate
-the totemic groups (emu, kangaroo, opossum, etc.) comprised within the
-clan by _m n o p...,_ it is apparent that the totems must be at least
-as old as the division into the two tribal halves. Unless this were the
-case, we could not explain the fact that, with very minor exceptions,
-precisely the same totems exist in the two tribal divisions. The
-condition might be represented thus:--
-
-     I                 II
-_mnopq              opmsn_
-
-
-It is also evident, however, that the totems could not have influenced
-this first division, otherwise their members would not have separated
-and passed over into the two tribal divisions, as they did in almost
-every case. Remembering that the totemic groups are also cult
-associations, we might express the matter thus: At the time of the
-first tribal division, the cult groups were not yet strong enough to
-offer resistance to the separation of the tribal divisions, or to
-determine the mode of division; therefore, members of totem _m_, for
-example, went here or there according as other external conditions
-determined. Conditions were quite different at the time of the second
-division, when the tribal half I separated into clans A and B, and II
-into C and D, according to the schema:--
-
-     I                 II
-    / \               /  \
-   /   \             /    \
-  A     B           C      D
- mnop  qrst        mpqs   nort
-
-These clans, as we see, separated strictly according to totems. The
-bond of cult association had now become so strong that all members of
-a particular totem regularly affiliated themselves with the same clan,
-though the grouping of the totem divisions within the clans of the two
-tribal halves proceeded along absolutely independent lines, as may be
-concluded from the fact that the totems composing the clans within the
-two tribal divisions are grouped differently. The formation of such
-cult or totem groups, thus, may already have begun in the primitive
-horde. At that time, however, these cult groups were probably loosely
-knit, so that when the horde split up, its members separated, each of
-the two tribal divisions, generally speaking, including individuals
-of all the various tribes. Not so in the case of those divisions of
-the tribe which originated later, after mankind had advanced further
-beyond the condition of the horde. By this time the totem unions must
-have become stronger, so that the members of a cult group no longer
-separated but, together with other similar groups, formed a clan. When
-the growth of the tribe, together with the conditions of food supply
-and the density of population, led to a separation of the tribe,
-certain totem groups invariably joined one division and others, the
-other, but the more firmly organized groups remained intact.
-
-A further phenomenon of great importance for the development of
-exogamous marriage laws must here be mentioned--one that occurs
-throughout the entire realm of totemic culture but is particularly
-prominent among the Australian totem groups. This phenomenon consists
-in _totem friendships_. Certain totem groups regard themselves as in
-particularly close relations with certain other groups. Friendships
-similar to these, in a general way, are to be found even in connection
-with the highest forms of political organization. For modern States
-themselves enter into political alliances or friendships, and these,
-as is well known, are subject to change. Such alliances occur from
-the beginnings of totemism on up to the advanced plane of modern
-international culture. Though these affiliations eventually come
-to be determined primarily by the commercial relations of peoples,
-the determining factors at the outset were faith and cult. In both
-cases, however, the friendships are not of a personal nature, but are
-relations based on common interests. This common interest may consist,
-for example, in the fact that, as has been observed among some of the
-Australian totem alliances, the member of a totem may slay the totem
-animal in the hunt, but may not eat of it, though the member of the
-friendly totem may do so. Thus, the interest in cult becomes also a
-means for the satisfaction of wants, as well as a bond that unites more
-closely the particular totem groups.
-
-These facts help to explain how the unlimited exogamy which first
-arises from marriage by capture comes to pass over into a 'limited
-exogamy,' as it does immediately upon the appearance of conditions
-that regulate the forceful capture and substitute for it the friendly
-exchange of women. These factors, however, always come into play
-whenever the intercourse between tribal members becomes closer, and
-particularly when the struggle with strange tribes keeps in check the
-strife between individuals of the same tribal association. In such
-cases, exchange, or, in later development, purchase, proves the means
-of putting an end to force. Thus, blood revenge, which persists into
-far later times, is displaced by the _wergild_ which the murderer pays
-to the kin of his victim. This transition is precisely the same, in its
-own field, as that which occurs in the institution of marriage, for in
-the former case also the strife involves members of the same tribe. The
-passion, however, which causes the murder and which creates the demand
-for vengeance, sometimes prevented the introduction of peaceful means
-of settlement. In the case of marriage by capture, however, a marriage
-relationship, unrestricted and friendly in character, was doubtless
-first developed between the two clans, particularly wherever tribal
-division and clan were identical. And though marriage by capture was
-for a time still occasionally practised--since all changes of this
-sort are gradual--such marriages, nevertheless, more and more assumed
-a playful character. The actual capture everywhere finally gave way
-to exchange and later to the gift. When, however, the totem groups,
-and with them the cult associations that established a bond between
-clan and clan, gained the ascendancy, the totem groups naturally
-displaced the clan in respect to marriage arrangements; those totems
-who maintained close cult relations with one another, entered also into
-a marriage relationship. Thus, exogamy became limited; the members of
-a totem of clan A married only into the friendly totem of clan B, and
-this usage became an established norm whose violation might result in
-the death of the guilty person, unless he escaped this fate by flight.
-This transition of exogamy from clan to totem group, and from the
-unlimited to the limited form, came only gradually. This is clearly
-shown by the conditions among the Dieri. Certain of their totems have
-already entered upon the stage of limited marriage relationship,
-whereas others have not advanced beyond unlimited exogamy.
-
-But even after the development had reached its final form and limited
-totemic exogamy was completely established, further changes ensued.
-For the basis of such exogamy, we may conjecture, is the fact that
-certain totem groups of associated clans enjoy particularly close
-relations with one another. Even on these primitive levels, however,
-the friendships of such groups are not absolutely permanent any more
-than are the political friendships of modern civilized states, though
-their degree of permanence is probably greater than that of the
-latter. Migrations, changes in hunting-grounds, and other conditions,
-were doubtless operative also in totemic culture, loosening the bonds
-between friendly totems and cementing others in their stead. This led
-to changes in the exogamous relations of totem groups. Instead of
-groups _n_ and _r_ of clans A and B, _n_ and _q_ might then come to have
-exogamous connections (see diagram III on p. 148). But the severance
-of the old connection did not immediately obliterate the tradition of
-the former relationship. The influence of the latter would naturally
-continue to be felt, not in connection with acts of a transitory
-nature, such as wooing and marriage, but in matters _permanent_ in
-character and thus affecting the traditional organization of the
-tribe. Such a permanent relation, however, is _totem affiliation_.
-This explains how it happens that, even after the old totem connection
-gave way to the new, it nevertheless continued to exercise a claim
-on the totem membership of the children born under the new marriage
-conditions; hence also the recognition of the claim on the part of
-custom. In _one_ respect, indeed, such recognition was impossible.
-More firmly established than any form of exogamy was the law that
-children belonged to the mother, or, in the case of paternal descent,
-to the father. This law could not be violated. Hence _exogamous_ and
-_parental_ tribal membership became differentiated. The latter ordained
-that children in every case belong to the totem of the parent who
-determines descent; the tradition of the former decreed that children
-belong, not to the parental totem, but to some other totem of the same
-clan. Such a condition of dual totem membership might, of course,
-arise from a great variety of conditions, just as may the similarly
-overlapping social relations within our own modern culture--such, for
-example, as the military and the so-called civil station of a man.
-The customary designation of the first two forms of limited exogamy
-as exogamy with direct maternal descent, and of the third as exogamy
-with indirect maternal descent, is plainly inappropriate and may easily
-give rise to misunderstandings. For it may suggest that the maternal
-totem disposes of its rights in respect to marriage arrangements to
-another totem group, and that eventually this even occurs in accordance
-with a definite agreement. But this is certainly not the case. For
-maternal descent or, speaking more generally, the fact that children
-belong to the parents, obtains invariably. It would be preferable,
-therefore, simply to distinguish the parental totem connection from the
-traditional exogamous connection, or one system in which the exogamous
-and the parental connections coincide, from a second in which they
-differ.
-
-The conjecture, therefore, that a traditional marriage relation,
-differing from that based on parentage, grew up out of a previous
-totem friendship, is based primarily on the importance which totemic
-_cult_ alliances in general possessed within the totemic tribal
-organization. Other causes, of course, may also have co-operated. Two
-further points must be noticed. In the first place, it is not at all
-likely that the transition from the parental exogamous relation to the
-traditional form occurred at the same time in all the totem groups.
-This is not only highly improbable in itself, but is also absolutely
-irreconcilable with the fact, shown by the example of the Dieri, that
-the earlier transition from unlimited to limited exogamy was gradual.
-Moreover, one must bear in mind that the transition from parental to
-traditional exogamy, represented by diagram III (p. 148), not only
-underwent several repeated transformations, but that, due to the power
-which tradition always exerts, a traditional exogamous union of two
-totems, after it once arose, may have persisted throughout several
-changing cult friendships. An existing marriage relation may not at
-all have corresponded to the cult friendship that immediately preceded
-it; it may have been based on any earlier friendship whatsoever that
-had been favoured by conditions and that had received a firm place in
-tradition. These facts show that the hypothetical 'wise ancestors'
-of the present-day Australians--sages who are said to have invented
-this complicated organization in the immemorial past for the purpose
-of avoiding endogamy--are just as superfluous as they are improbable.
-The phenomena arose in the course of a long period of time, out of
-conditions immanent in the life and in the cult of these tribes. The
-various forms of exogamy appearing in the course of this period were
-not the causes but the effects of the phenomena in question.
-
-
-
-7. THE FORMS OF POLYGAMY.
-
-
-Unless external influences have changed his mode of life, primitive
-man, as we have seen, is both monogamous and endogamous, the latter
-term being used in a relative sense as denoting a condition in which
-marriages are permitted between blood relations as well as between
-non-relations. As a result of the external conditions of life,
-however, particularly the common habitation of the same protective
-cave and the use of adjacent hunting-grounds, unions within a wider
-joint family generally predominate. Following upon the rise of
-exogamy, polygamy also regularly appears. These two practices give to
-the marriage and family relations of totemic society an essentially
-different character from that which they possess under primitive
-conditions. Even in the totemic era, indeed, polygamy is not universal;
-monogamy continues to survive. Monogamy, however, ceases to be a norm
-of custom. It is everywhere set aside, to a greater or less extent, in
-favour of the two forms of polygamy--polygyny and polyandry.
-
-Now it is apparent that precisely the same conditions that underlie the
-development of the various forms of exogamy also generate _polygyny_
-and _polyandry_. From the standpoint of the general human impulses
-determining the relations of the sexes, both sorts of polygamy are
-manifestly connected very closely with the origin of exogamy. Here,
-again, the fact that exogamy originated in marriage by capture from
-within the tribe is of decisive importance. It is precisely this
-friendly form of the capture of brides, as we may learn from the
-example of the Australians and of others, that is never carried out by
-the individual alone, whether the custom be still seriously practised
-or exists only in playful survivals. The companions of the captor aid
-him, and he, in turn, reciprocates in similar undertakings. Thereby the
-companion, according to a view that long continued to be held, gains a
-joint right to the captured woman. Hence the original form of polygamy
-was probably not polygyny--the only form, practically, that later
-occurs--but _polyandry_. At first this polyandry, which originates in
-capture, was probably only temporary in character. Nevertheless it
-inevitably led to a loosening of the marriage bond, the result of which
-might easily be the introduction of polygyny. The man who has gained a
-wife for his permanent possession seeks to indemnify himself, so far as
-possible, for the partial loss which he suffers through his companions.
-Here, then, two motives co-operate to introduce the so-called
-'group-marriage'--the dearth of women, which may also act as a
-secondary motive in the claim of the companions to the captured woman,
-and the impulse for sexual satisfaction, which is, in turn, intensified
-by the lack of women. Similarly, the right to the possession of a
-woman, even though only temporarily, also has two sources. In the first
-place, the helper demands a reward for his assistance. This reward,
-according to the primitive views of barter and exchange, can consist
-only in a partial right to the spoils, which, in this case, means
-the temporary joint possession of the woman. In the second place,
-however, the individual is a member of the clan, and what he gains is
-therefore regarded as belonging also to the others. Thus the right of
-the closest companions may broaden into a right of the clan. Indeed,
-where strict monogamy does not prevent, phenomena similar to marriage
-by capture persist far beyond this period into a later civilization.
-Thus, in France and Scotland, down to the seventeenth century, the
-lord possessed the right of _jus primæ noctis_ in the case of all his
-newly married vassals. In place of the clan of an earlier period we
-here find the lord; to him has been transmitted the right of the clan.
-At the time when these phenomena were in their early beginnings, the
-temporary relation might very easily have become permanent. It is thus
-that group-marriage originates--an institution of an enduring character
-which not only survives the early marriage by capture but which is
-reinforced and probably first made permanent by its substitute, namely,
-marriage by purchase. In this instance again, Australian custom
-offers the clearest evidence. In the so-called 'Pirrauru marriage' of
-Australia, a man, M, possesses a chief wife, C^1, called 'Tippamalku.'
-[image missing, see htm--transcribers.] Another man, N, likewise has a
-chief wife, C^2. This wife, C^2, is, however, at the same time a
-secondary wife, S^1, or 'Pirrauru' of M. In like manner the chief
-wife, C^1, may, in turn, be a secondary wife, S^2, of N. This is the
-simplest form of group-marriage. Two men have two wives, of whom
-one is the chief wife of M and the secondary wife of N, and the
-other is the chief wife of N and the secondary wife of M. Into
-such a group yet a third man, O, may occasionally enter with
-a chief wife, C^3, whom he gives to M as a secondary wife,
-S^3, and eventually to N as a secondary wife, S^4, without
-himself participating further in the group. In this way there may well
-be innumerable different relations. But the marriage is a 'Pirrauru
-marriage' whenever a man possesses not only a chief wife but also one
-or more secondary wives who are at the same time the wives of other
-men. 'Pirrauru marriage' is a form of group-marriage, for it involves
-an exchange of women between the men of a group according to the
-reciprocal relation of chief and secondary wives. The very manner in
-which 'Pirrauru marriage' originates, however, indicates that in all
-probability its basis is _monogamy_, and not, as is supposed by many
-ethnologists and sociologists, 'promiscuity,' or the total absence of
-all marriage. In harmony with this interpretation is the fact that in
-numerous regions of Australia, especially in the northern districts,
-it is not group-marriage but monogamy that prevails. There is also,
-of course, a form of group-marriage that differs from 'Pirrauru
-marriage,' and is apparently simpler. In it, the differences between
-chief and secondary wives disappear; several men simply possess
-several wives in common. Because this form of group-marriage is the
-simpler, it is also usually regarded as the earlier. This view,
-however, is not susceptible of proof. The supposition rests simply
-and alone upon the consideration that, if a state of absolutely
-promiscuous sexual intercourse originally prevailed, the transition
-to an undifferentiated group-marriage without distinction of chief
-and secondary wives would be the next stage of development. The
-reverse, however, would obtain were monogamy the original custom.
-For the group-marriage with chief and secondary wives is, of course,
-more similar to monogamy than is undifferentiated group-marriage.
-Moreover, this order of succession is also in greater consonance with
-the general laws underlying social changes of this sort. As a matter of
-fact, it would scarcely be possible to find grounds for a transition
-from undifferentiated group-marriage to the 'Pirrauru system.' If we
-assume that there was a growing inclination for single marriage, it
-would be difficult to understand why the circuitous path of 'Pirrauru
-marriage' should have been chosen. On the other hand, it is very easy
-to see that the distinction between chief and secondary wives might
-gradually disappear. Indeed, this is what has almost universally
-happened wherever pure polygyny prevails. Wherever polygyny may be
-traced back to its beginnings, it always seems to have its origin in
-the combination of a chief wife with several secondary wives. Later,
-however, when the wife comes to be regarded as property, we find a
-formal co-ordination of the wives. Or, there may be a distinction that
-arises from the accidental preference of the husband, as in the case
-of the Sultan's favourite wife, though in modern times such choice
-has again been displaced by a law of more ancient tradition. The
-latter change, however, was the result of the external influence of
-the culture of Western Europe. Such a retrogressive movement, in the
-sense of a reapproach to monogamy, is foreign to the motives immanent
-in the development itself. Furthermore, 'Pirrauru marriage' is very
-easily explicable by reference to the same condition that best explains
-the origin of exogamy, namely, the custom of marriage by capture as
-practised between groups enjoying a tribal or cult relationship. The
-captured wife is the Tippamalku, or chief wife, of the captor; to the
-companions who assist the latter she becomes a Pirrauru, or secondary
-wife. This latter relation is at first only temporary, though it later
-becomes permanent, probably as a result, in part, of a dearth of
-women. By rendering his companions a similar service, the original
-captor in turn gains the chief wives of the former as his secondary
-wives. As frequently happens, the custom which thus arises outlives the
-conditions of its origin. This is all the more likely to happen in this
-case, because the general motives to polyandry and polygyny persist and
-exercise a constant influence.
-
-Proof that this is the forgotten origin of group-marriage may perhaps
-be found in a remarkable feature of the customs of these tribes--one
-that is for the most part regarded as an inexplicable paradox. Marriage
-with the chief wife is not celebrated by ceremonies or festivals, as is
-the union with the secondary wife. Thus, the celebration occurs, not
-in connection with that marriage which is of primary importance even
-to the Australian, but, on the contrary, on the occasion of the union
-which is in itself of less importance. The solution of this riddle can
-lie only in the origin of the two forms of marriage. And, in fact,
-the two result from radically different causes, if it be true that
-capture from a friendly clan is the origin of the Tippamalku marriage
-and that assistance rendered to an allied companion underlies Pirrauru
-marriage. Capture is an act which precludes all ceremony; alliance with
-a companion is a contract, perhaps the very first marriage contract
-that was ever concluded--one that was made, not with the woman or with
-her parents, but with her husband. The consummation of such a contract,
-however, is an act which in early times was always accompanied by
-ceremonial performances. These accompanying phenomena may also, of
-course, persist long after their source has been lost to memory. Thus,
-the difference between the two forms of primitive group-marriage also
-indirectly confirms the supposition that monogamy lies at the basis of
-group-marriage in general.
-
-After a man has won one or more secondary wives in addition to his
-chief wife, in Pirrauru marriage, there will doubtless be a tendency
-for him to seek additional chief wives. This will be particularly apt
-to occur where, on the one hand, marriage by capture gives way to
-marriage by barter and later to marriage by purchase, and where, on
-the other hand, group-marriage is on the wane. Custom may then either
-recur to monogamy, or it may advance to a polygyny which is pure and
-not, as in the case of group-marriage, combined with polyandry. Whether
-the former or the latter will occur, will depend, now that marriage by
-purchase has become predominant, upon might and property. Since these
-are also the factors which insure man's supremacy within the family,
-the older forms of combined polyandry and polygyny almost universally
-(with few exceptions, conditioned by the dearth of women) give way,
-with the advance of culture, to simple polygyny, which is then
-practised alongside of monogamy. This polygyny, in turn, also finally
-recedes in favour of monogamy. The circle of development, accordingly,
-may be represented by the following diagram:--
-
-  Monogamy
-     |
-  Polyandry
-     |
-  Polyandry with Polygyny
-  (Group-marriage)
-     |
-  Polygyny
-     |
-  Monogamy.
-
-As an intermediate stage between monogamy and group-marriage, pure
-polyandry, it should be remarked, is doubtless a very transitory
-phenomenon. Nevertheless, it has a priority over polygyny in so far as
-it first furnishes the motives for the additional practice, and thus
-for the very origin, of the latter.
-
-As a matter of fact, the ethnological distribution of the forms
-of marriage entirely confirms, as a general rule, the truth of
-this diagram. Even in Australia the phenomena of Pirrauru and of
-group-marriage are confined particularly to the southern regions. In
-the northerly regions, where immigration and racial fusion have played
-a greater rôle, both monogamy and polygyny may be found. The same is
-true of America and of Africa, monogamy decidedly predominating in
-the former and polygyny in the latter. The influence of marriage by
-purchase then constantly becomes stronger, with the result that the
-woman comes to be regarded from the point of view of property. The rich
-man is able to buy more wives than the poor man. In all polygynous
-countries and fields of culture, therefore, even in the present domain
-of Islamism, the poor man, as a rule, lives in monogamy, the rich man
-in polygyny. Only the wealthiest and most aristocratic allow themselves
-a real harem with a considerable number of wives.
-
-Linked with these influences is yet a further change. Its beginnings
-are to be found as early as Australian culture; in America, it has
-progressed somewhat farther; in the other regions of totemism, it has
-finally succeeded in crowding out the original conditions with the
-exception of meagre remnants and survivals of customs. The change to
-which I refer is the _transition from maternal descent_, which, in all
-probability, was originally universal, _to paternal descent_. Maternal
-descent is in direct harmony with the natural feeling that the children
-who are born of the mother, and whose early care rests with her alone,
-should also belong to her. In this sense, mother-right represents the
-earliest of all conceptions of property. At the same time it precludes
-the possibility of that marriage which was avoided even by primitive
-man, and which, on higher cultural levels, is abhorred beyond all the
-other unions forbidden by the exogamous norms of custom--marriage
-between son and mother. The decisive external factor in connection with
-maternal descent, however, is the subordinate position of the family
-as compared with the association of the age-companions of the same
-sex, particularly the men's club. Because of its tribal struggles,
-whose increasing importance is externally reflected in the character
-of the weapon, it is precisely the totemic era that tends to loosen
-the natural family ties of the preceding primitive age, and, as a
-result, to allot the child to the mother. This tendency is clearly
-expressed in certain transitional phenomena that may occasionally
-be observed; they occur more frequently in Melanesia and America,
-however, than in Australia. The child, in these cases, inherits the
-totem of the mother as well as that of the father; or the son, though
-continuing to inherit the totem of the mother, nevertheless passes
-over into the clan of the father. These are intermediate phenomena,
-preparatory to the general transition from maternal to paternal
-descent. At the same time, the fact that membership is inherited in the
-paternal clan, in spite of the custom whereby the mother determines
-the totem, directly suggests that the bond uniting the men may become
-a force which counteracts maternal descent and then readily leads to
-paternal descent. This transition is bound to occur, particularly
-under the co-operation of other favouring conditions. Such conditions,
-as a matter of fact, are present; for social organization gains an
-increasing influence upon the whole of life's relations. There are
-primarily _three_ factors that militate against the original custom
-of maternal descent. The first of these consists in the increasing
-authority of the man over his family, particularly over the son, who
-was generally subject to stricter regulations than was the daughter.
-This authority begins to manifest itself at that time, especially,
-when the man's relations with his family again become closer, and the
-associations which originally embraced, without exception, all the men
-of the clan, are displaced by family groups subject to the control of
-a family elder. Coincident with these changes and with the resulting
-transition to a patriarchal order, there occurs also the gradual
-dissolution of the general system of totemic tribal organization. Now,
-the system of maternal descent was closely bound up with totemic tribal
-organization from the very beginning. With the disappearance of the
-latter, therefore, the former loses its power of resistance against the
-forces making for its destruction. Finally, as a third factor, there
-is the gradually increasing prominence of personal property. Just as
-the wife becomes the property of the man, so also does the child. So
-great was this emphasis of the property conception, combined with the
-notion of authority, that even among the Romans the _pater familias_
-had power extending over the life of his children. Beginnings of such
-conceptions, however, are to be found even in more primitive societies.
-Polynesian custom, for example, permitted the murder of new-born
-children, and free advantage was taken of the permission. Only after
-the child had lived for a short time was infanticide prohibited. The
-decision, however, as to whether or not the child should be allowed to
-live rested primarily with the father.
-
-
-
-8. THE DEVELOPMENTAL FORMS OF TOTEMISM.
-
-
-Our discussions thus far have been restricted to those aspects of
-totemism which are directly related to tribal organization. But however
-important these phases may be, particularly in so far as they affect
-marriage regulations, they are, after all, but an external indication
-of the all-pervading influence of totemism upon life as a whole.
-Moreover, tribal totemism leaves many things unexplained, especially
-the origin of totemic belief. At any rate, the fact that totem groups
-were originally cult associations unmistakably points to inner motives
-of which the influence of totemism upon tribal organization and upon
-exogamy is but the outer expression. To answer the question concerning
-the nature of these motives, however, we must first call to mind
-the various sorts of totemic ideas. An analysis of these ideas may
-proceed in either of _two_ directions. It may concern itself either
-with the _social unit_ that regards itself as in relation to the
-totem or with the nature of the _object_ that constitutes the totem.
-So far as the social unit is concerned, it may be a particular group
-of individuals--whether constituting a cult association independent
-of the real tribal organization, as in Australia, or, as in America,
-representing one of the tribal divisions themselves--that takes the
-name of a particular animal or, less frequently, of a plant for its
-totemic designation. The individual, however, may also possess a
-personal totem. Furthermore, the totemic idea may be associated with
-the birth of an individual, conception being regarded as an act in
-which the totem ancestor passes over into the germ as a magic being.
-This particular form of totemic belief is generally known as conception
-totemism. It supposes either that the totem ancestor co-operates with
-the father in the begetting of the child or that the father has no
-connection with procreation, the child being the direct offspring of
-the mother and the totem ancestor. There is, finally, also a fourth,
-though a relatively uncommon, form of totemism, generally called 'sex
-totemism.' Sex totemism also is social in nature, though in this case
-it is not different cult or tribal associations that possess separate
-totems, but the sexes, the men and women of a tribe or clan. The men
-have a totem, as have also the women, or there may be several totems
-for each sex.
-
-Intercrossing with this classification based on the social factor, on
-whether the totem is associated with the tribe, the individual, or the
-procreation of the individual, there is a second classification. The
-latter concerns itself with the nature of the objects that are regarded
-as totems. These objects are of various sorts. Here again, moreover,
-we must doubtless recognize a development in totemic conceptions. The
-original totem, and the one that is by far the most common, is the
-animal. Numerous peoples possess no totems except animals. In many
-communities, however, plant totems have been adopted, and in certain
-regions they have gradually become predominant. Of the plant totems,
-the most important are the nutritious plants. In addition to these
-two classes of totemic objects, there is, finally, another, though
-an exceedingly rare, sort of totem. The totem that is conceived as
-an animal ancestor may give way to other fanciful ancestral ideas or
-may intercross with them. Various forms of such phenomena are to be
-found, particularly in Australia. In this region, such ancestors,
-which, doubtless, are for the most part regarded as anthropomorphic,
-are sometimes called Mura-mura or also Alcheringa. They are apparently
-imaged as mighty human beings possessed of magic powers. They are
-believed to have introduced totemism and to have instructed the
-forbears of the Australians in magic ceremonies. Mura-mura is the name
-that occurs especially in Southern Australia; the term, Alcheringa,
-prevails in the north, where the age of these mythical ancestors is
-often directly referred to as the Alcheringa age. At times, apparently,
-it is believed that these ancestors merely singled out as totems
-certain already existing animals. In other cases, however, animals, as
-well as mankind, are held to have been created by the magic-working
-beings out of formless matter, doubtless earth. It is commonly believed
-that the creatures that were thus created were at first lifeless, but
-became animals and men when placed in the sun. These various ideas are
-for the most part so intertangled in Australian legend that no coherent
-history of creation is anywhere discoverable. The legends plainly
-embody merely a number of detached fanciful ideas.
-
-Closely connected with these original ancestors there is a third sort
-of totem or of totemic objects which we may briefly designate as
-_inanimate_. The objects are regarded as possessing magical powers and
-as having been bequeathed by the original ancestors, thus representing
-a legacy of the magical Alcheringa age. It is particularly stones and
-pieces of wood that are held to be the abode of these totemic spirits
-and that are represented by legend as having at one time been entrusted
-to the custody of the forefathers. These ideas abound particularly in
-northern Australia, where the magical objects are called churingas
-(or tjurungas). Churingas play an important rôle in the ceremonies of
-the totem festivals. For the most part, they consist of symmetrically
-shaped stones, somewhat similar to the boomerang; yet other objects
-also may be found, particularly such as are somehow striking in
-form. These churingas are also associated with other totemic ideas,
-particularly with conception totemism. The original ancestor is
-supposed to continue his existence, as it were, in the churinga, so
-that when this comes into contact with the mother he may pass over
-directly into the child.
-
-If, now, we compare with each other the two extreme forms of the first
-class of totemic ideas--namely, _tribal_ and _individual totemism_--we
-at once face the question, Which is the earlier, the original form?
-The ideas connected with the individual totem are certainly much
-more widely disseminated than is tribal totemism. Guardian spirits,
-particularly demoniacal, protective animals, may be found in many
-regions of the earth where there is little or no trace of the tribal
-totem. This is true especially of many regions of North America and
-of southern Africa, and likewise of numerous islands of Oceania. In
-these localities the individual totem is sometimes regarded as a sort
-of double of the individual person. If the totem animal dies, the man
-whose totem it is must also die. Closely related to this conception
-are a vast number of ideas reaching far down into later mythology,
-particularly into Germanic lore--ideas according to which the soul of
-a man lies hidden in some external object, perhaps in a plant or in an
-animal, and, when this vehicle of the soul is destroyed, the man, or
-the god or demon who has assumed human form, must die.
-
-In these various modifications, _individual totemism_ is doubtless
-more widespread than is tribal totemism. Nevertheless, this by no
-means implies that the latter developed from the former. On the
-contrary, both may possibly be equally original, grounded as they
-are in universal human motives that run parallel and independent
-courses. For this very reason, however, it is also possible that
-tribal totemism is the older form, for on somewhat higher cultural
-levels it recedes in favour of the belief in protective spirits
-of individuals. In questions such as this it is helpful to adduce
-parallels from later cults whose mode of origin is more familiar. In
-the present instance, leaving out of account the animal ideas, the
-two forms of totemism are closely analogous to the Roman Catholic
-worship of saints. The saints also are regarded partly as guardians
-of communities and partly as personal protectors. Thus, on the one
-hand, we have the patrons of cities, of monasteries, of vocations,
-and of classes; on the other hand, the individual also may possess a
-particular patron saint. We know of a certainty, however, that the
-patron saints of individuals did not antecede those of the Church
-itself. It was this most inclusive community that first elected the
-saints, whereupon smaller groups and finally individuals, guided by
-motives that were frequently quite external, selected specific patron
-saints from among the number of ecclesiastical saints. When the Church
-set apart a certain day of the year for the particular worship of one
-of its saints, this day was called by the name of the saint; to those
-individuals who were named after him, the day became sacred. Thus, the
-patron saint of the individual appeared later than the more universal
-saint. This order of development, moreover, is in harmony with the
-general nature of custom, language, and myth, according to which the
-individual succeeds the universal; only secondarily may the process
-occasionally be reversed. Usually, however, it is cult associations
-and their common cult objects that are first in origin. Our contention
-is unaffected by the fact that individual cult objects, as well as
-individual totems, may continue to survive after tribal cults and
-tribal totems have disappeared. For the need of a personal protector is
-generally much more permanent than are the social conditions that gave
-it birth. Again we may find verification in the analogous development
-of saint worship. Nowadays the patron saints of the vocations, classes,
-and cities have more and more passed into oblivion. Among the Roman
-Catholic rural population, however, the individual still frequently
-has his patron saint, and, even where the saint has disappeared, the
-celebration of the 'name-day' has been retained. It is particularly
-in the religious realm that personal need gains a greater and greater
-ascendancy over community need. Everything seems to indicate that
-such a change took place even within totemism, especially under the
-influence of the gradual dissolution of the original totemic tribal
-organization--a change analogous to that which occurred in the case
-of saint worship as a result of the decay of mediæval guilds. These
-arguments, of course, cannot lay claim to more than probability. No one
-can show how the individual totem developed out of the group totem.
-Certain indications, however, suggest that the above was the course of
-development. In Australia, the stronghold of original tribal totemism,
-a youth is frequently given a personal totem, in addition to the tribal
-totem, upon the occasion of his initiation into manhood. The personal
-totem is frequently a matter of secrecy, being known only to the
-medicine-men or to the elders of the tribe. The fact that this is true
-indicates that such a personal totem possesses no public significance
-and, moreover, that it is probably bound up with the idea that the
-real essence of a man is contained in his name, just as it is in his
-picture, so that the mere speaking of the name might bring harm to the
-person. It is doubtless probable, therefore, that, after groups came to
-be formed within the primitive horde, they were at once bound together
-by relations of cult. As Australian conditions indicate, the origin
-of totems in the sense of cult groups is at least as old as tribal
-organization, if not older.
-
-The same cannot be said of the much more remarkable, though also rarer,
-forms of totemism, _conception_ and _sex totemism_. The former of these
-may be regarded as a modification of individual totemism, inasmuch as
-it relates to the procreation of the individual. However, it also forms
-a sort of intermediate stage between tribal and individual totemism.
-A woman receives the totem of the child on a specific occasion, of
-which she usually has knowledge. Among the Aranda, the conception
-may occur at any place whatsoever; among the Warramunga, the woman
-retires to a certain spot, the totem place, where the ancestral spirits
-dwell. Either during the day or, especially, during the night and
-in sleep, the spirit of the ancestor passes over into her. The word
-'spirit,' which is employed by English writers, is not, of course, an
-accurate rendering of the Australian term, and may easily lead to a
-misconception. The German missionary Strehlow has probably done better
-in using the word 'germ.' The germ of the child is thought to pass over
-into the body of the mother independently of any act of the father,
-or, at most, the participation of the latter is held to be merely
-secondary, and not essential.
-
-Adherents of the theory of original promiscuity have interpreted these
-ideas also as a survival of unrestrained sexual conditions, and thus
-as indicative of the fact that paternity was at one time unknown. A
-closer acquaintance with the phenomena, however, shows that this can
-scarcely be the case. Thus, the idea of the Warramunga that it is the
-totem ancestors of a woman's husband and not those of any other man
-that pass over into her, clearly presupposes a state of marriage, as
-does also the further fact that these same tribes reckon descent in
-the line of the father and not in that of the mother. Moreover, the
-passing of the totem ancestor into the woman is generally accompanied
-by magical ceremonies, such as the swinging of bull-roarers, or contact
-with churingas. Or, the totem ancestor may appear to the woman in
-sleep or in a waking vision. On the Banks Islands, strange to say, we
-find conception totemism without any trace of tribal totemism. The
-manner of reception of the totem ancestor also differs; the woman eats
-of the flesh of her husband's totem animal, which, since there is no
-tribal totemism, is in this case a personal, protective totem. Thus,
-conception totemism represents something of an exception in that the
-eating of the totem is not forbidden, as it generally is, but rather
-constitutes a sort of cult act, as it also does in certain other cases.
-In Australia, moreover, conception totemism is to be found only among
-several of the northern tribes, to whom it may at one time have come
-from Melanesia. Because of the primitive nature of the ideas connected
-with conception totemism, particularly when, as among the Aranda, the
-husband is ignored and it is believed that conception is mediated
-only by the totem ancestor, the northern tribes just referred to have
-sometimes been regarded as the most primitive. There are some writers,
-on the other hand, by whom the possibility of such ideas is denied on
-the ground that these very tribes must be familiar with the process
-of procreation in the animal world. But this does not prove the case.
-When, however, we learn that the older men of the tribe themselves no
-longer entertain the belief in magical generation, particularly as the
-exclusive factor, whereas, on the other hand, this is still taught to
-the young men, and especially to the children, we may well call to mind
-our own childish notions about the stork that brings the babies. Why
-might something similar not occur among the Australians, and the belief
-possibly retain credence somewhat beyond the age of childhood?
-
-Sex totemism, similarly to conception totemism, is also of somewhat
-limited distribution, and seems to occur principally in those regions
-where tribal totemism proper is lacking or is at least strongly
-recedent. Among the Kurnai of southern Australia, for example, no
-tribal totemism has been discovered, though sex totemism occurs and
-actually forms the basis of certain marriage ceremonies. Sex totemism
-probably has its origin in the individual totem, especially in the
-appearance of this totem in dreams. If, after such a totem has appeared
-to an individual man or woman, it is then adopted by others of the
-same sex, specific sex totems may well come into being, particularly
-under the influence of the separate associations of men and women.
-It is also significant that in the case of sex totemism nocturnal
-animals predominate. The totem of the women is usually the bat; that
-of the men, the owl. This fact is indicative of a dream origin and of
-a genesis from the individual totem. Diurnal birds may, of course,
-also appear in dreams. Whether or not this occurs depends solely upon
-concomitant circumstances. At the stage of culture, however, when man
-is accustomed to sleep in the open, it is probable that the nocturnal
-birds which circle about him will also appear in his dreams. A further
-characteristic phenomenon of the regions where sex totemism prevails,
-is the manner in which marriage is consummated. In this case also, the
-woman eats of the totem of the man. This causes a struggle between the
-man and the woman, which is really a mere mock-fight ending with an
-offer of reconciliation on the part of the man. With this, the marriage
-is concluded. Such customs likewise point back to individual totemism
-as their original source, and probably also to marriage by capture.
-The fact that tribal totemism everywhere receded with the dominance
-of individual totems, explains why sex and tribal totemism seem to be
-mutually exclusive. Of the two rare forms of totemism, accordingly,
-it is probable that conception totemism was the earlier, and that
-sex totemism belongs to a relatively late stage of development. A
-further indication of the primitive nature of conception totemism is
-to be found in the fact that the Aranda possess a tribal organization
-in which the grouping of totems to form clan divisions follows a
-principle which elsewhere obtains only in the case of the two tribal
-halves. Two clans, A and B, that enjoy exogamous relations with each
-other, do not have different totem groups, as they do among all other
-tribes; their totem groups are largely the same. Among the Aranda,
-therefore, a man of one totem may, under certain circumstances, marry a
-woman of the same totem, provided only she belongs to the other clan.
-True, phenomena are not lacking--such particularly as those of plant
-totems, to be mentioned below, and the ceremonial festivals connected
-with them--which indicate that these northern tribes were affected by
-Papuan immigrations and by race-mixture. But influences of this kind
-are the less apt to lead to the submergence of primitive views and
-customs according as they are instrumental, particularly when they
-are operative at an early age, in maintaining conditions which might
-otherwise possibly disappear as a result of further development.
-
-The _second_ mode of classifying the forms of totemism is based on
-the _objects_ which are used as totems and leads to an essentially
-different analysis of totem beliefs. Each of the forms which the
-classification distinguishes is, of course, also subsumable under one
-of the kinds of totemism already discussed. The earliest totem objects,
-as has already been mentioned, are without doubt _animals_. In America,
-as in Australia, there are practically no totems except animals; in
-other places also it is the animal that plays the principal rôle in
-totemic mythology. In part, the animal continues to remain predominant
-even after the age of actual totemism has passed. Nevertheless, _plant
-totemism_ has found its way into certain regions. Here also the facts
-are most clearly traceable in Australia, our most important source of
-information regarding the history of the development of totemic ideas.
-In southern Australia, there are no totems except animals; towards the
-north, plant totems gradually begin to make their appearance, until
-finally, among the most northerly peoples of central Australia, such
-totems have the dominance. Plant totems, moreover, are also found
-particularly in Melanesia, from which place they might easily have
-come to Australia across the chain of islands which extends from New
-Guinea to the north coast of the island-continent. That plants play
-an unusually large rôle in the regions of Oceania, in connection with
-totemism as well as otherwise, is directly due to external conditions.
-These islands are poor in fauna; true, they possess great numbers
-of birds, but these are of little value to the hunter. On the other
-hand, they have a luxuriant flora. From early times on, therefore, it
-is chiefly the plant world that has been the centre of interest and
-that has left its stamp upon myth and custom. Clearly, plant totemism
-had its origin on these islands. From them it was introduced into
-Australia, where it combined with animal totemism. But the regions
-into which plant totemism was introduced underwent a great change
-in their totemic cults. It is probably only with the appearance of
-plant totems that those cult ceremonies arose which are celebrated,
-not, as the festivals of tribal totemism originally were, mainly at
-the adolescence of youths, but primarily for the sake of effecting a
-_multiplication of the totems_. Annually, at stated times, the members
-of allied clans unite in magical ceremonies and cult dances, the
-well-known 'corroborees,' as they are called by those who practise
-them. The primary aim of such cults is to bring about by magical means
-an increase of the totem plants and animals. Doubtless we may regard
-it as highly probable that this ceremony represents a borrowing on the
-part of animal totemism from plant totemism. For the hunter, similarly,
-desires that there be a very great abundance of game animals. Yet it
-is mainly plants that are the object of concern--a concern caused by
-the changes in weather, with its incalculable oscillations between
-life-bringing rain and the withering glare of the sun. These are
-the motives that find expression in the festivals designed for the
-multiplication of the totems, the 'Intichiuma' festivals. The motives
-to these ancient cults still frequently find their counterparts in the
-customs of the cultural peoples of the present. When, in times of a
-long drought, processions pass over the fields and supplicate Heaven
-for rain, as occurs even to-day in some regions, we certainly have an
-analogous phenomenon. The only difference is that the Australian tribes
-invoke their totems instead of Heaven; they call upon the plants which
-are to increase and upon the animals which are to be available for
-hunting, with the aim of thus exercising a magical influence upon them.
-
-In connection with the Australian ceremonies designed to multiply the
-food plants and game animals, we come upon still a _third_ kind of
-totem objects. They differ from those of the two preceding classes
-in that they are not regarded as independent totems, but merely as
-vehicles of the same sort of magical power as is possessed by animal
-and plant totems. In distinction from the latter, we may briefly call
-them _inanimate totems_. They consist of stones and sticks. These are
-utilized as magical objects in the Australian Intichiuma festivals, and
-also, under the above-mentioned name of 'churingas,' in connection with
-conception totemism. They differ from animate totems in that the latter
-are in themselves endowed with magical properties, whereas the former
-are always held to derive these powers from living magicians, from the
-anthropomorphic or zoömorphic ancestors of antiquity. These magicians
-are thought to have transmitted the objects to later generations for
-the use of the latter in the practice of magic. Thus, the churingas
-have a peculiar status, intermediate between magical beings and magical
-implements. They are carefully preserved because--as is indicated by
-their use in connection with conception totemism--they are regarded
-as legacies left by ancestors; moreover, they are also supposed to
-harbour the demoniacal power of these ancestors. One of the factors
-determining the selection of these objects is doubtless generally their
-shape, which is frequently of a striking nature, such as to arouse
-astonishment. Ejected into the object itself, this astonishment becomes
-a wonder-working power. Later, the desire to secure such magical means
-of aid may become a supplementary factor in the selection of these
-objects, and, as widespread phenomena of a similar nature show, may
-eventually suffice of itself to constitute an object the bearer of
-magical powers. Thus, it is these inanimate vehicles of a magic derived
-from totem ancestors, that form the transition from the totem object to
-the so-called _fetish_.
-
-Each of the three kinds of totem objects just described, the plant
-totem, the animal totem, and the totemic fetish, may assert itself in
-connection with the three above-mentioned social forms of totemism.
-Moreover, the three kinds of objects may also, to a certain extent,
-combine with one another. For, though the animal is very commonly
-the only totem, plant totems never occur except in connection with
-animal totems, even though there are certain conditions under which
-they attain the dominance. Finally, the totemic fetish is always
-associated in totemic regions with animal and plant totems, and is also
-closely connected with the idea, even here permeating totemic belief,
-that there were anthropomorphic ancestors who left these fetishes as
-magic-working legacies. Thus, totemism passes over, on the one hand,
-into ancestor-worship, and, on the other, into fetishism, with which
-it combines, particularly in the 'Intichiuma' festivals, to form a
-composite cult. Tribal totemism is the source of the individual totem;
-the latter, probably as a result of animistic ideas that displace
-tribal totemism, gives rise, as an occasional offshoot, to the sex
-totem. This is the conclusion to which we are led by the fact that the
-choice of the sex totem is influenced by the dream. The last important
-product of individual totemism, in combination with tribal totemism, is
-an incipient ancestor worship, which is accompanied by peculiar forms
-of fetishism. In view of its origin, we may perhaps refer to this cult
-as 'totemic fetishism.' The following diagram illustrates this genetic
-relationship:--
-
-                   Tribal and Animal Totemism
-                     /                  \
-Tribal Totemism--Animal                Individual Animal
-     and Plant Totemism                Totemism
-                      \                /   |
-                      Ancestor Worship   Sex Totemism
-                              |
-                      Totemic Fetishism
-
-
-
-9. THE ORIGIN OF TOTEMIC IDEAS.
-
-
-We have attempted to trace the succession of the various forms of
-totemism by reference to the characteristics which these forms reveal.
-Closely connected with this problem is the question concerning the
-origin of totemic ideas. With respect to this question, however,
-widely different hypotheses have been proposed. Of these, those that
-belong to an earlier stage of our ethnological knowledge concerning
-this subject can here receive but brief mention. Herbert Spencer held
-that the entire institution of totemism arose out of the totem names
-of individuals, such, for example, as wolf, deer, eagle, or, among
-the Australians, emu, kangaroo, etc. These animal names, according
-to him, were at first perhaps nicknames, such as are occasionally to
-be found even to-day. Out of the individual totem arose the tribal
-totem. The name then became identical with the thing itself--that is,
-with the animal, which thus became a protective and ancestral animal.
-Though rejecting the idea that the origin of totemism is to be found
-in nicknames and epithets, Andrew Lang retained the belief that the
-name was primary, and that the substitution of the animal or the plant
-for the name occurred only later. This theory is not so strange as
-it might appear. As a matter of fact, it is quite characteristic of
-primitive thought closely to associate a name and its object. Primitive
-man regards his name as a part of himself; this idea is similar to that
-which underlies the terror that he sometimes manifests when a sketch
-is made of him, a terror due to the belief that a part of his soul
-is being carried away in the picture of the artist. And yet there is
-_prima facie_ little probability that a phenomenon so widely prevalent
-and so highly ramified as totemism could have its source in a fact of
-this kind, which is, after all, only incidental. Moreover, in one of
-the chief centres of tribal totemism, in the eastern part of North
-America, as, for example, among the Iroquois, we find very clearly
-defined personal names. These names, however, are never identical
-with those of the totems, nor even, as a rule, with those of animals.
-Sometimes they are borrowed from the names of flowers, although there
-are no plant totems in America; or, they are flattering appellatives
-such as we still find in higher civilizations. Moreover, there is no
-indication that they ever came to be used for the designation of totems.
-
-The view held by Howitt and by Spencer and Gillen, scholars deserving
-of high esteem for their knowledge of Australian totemism, is an
-essentially different one. In their opinions, it is the conditions of
-a hunting life that are reflected in totemic beliefs. They maintain
-that the animals of the chase were the first to become totem animals.
-Wherever plant food gained great importance, plant totems were then
-added. The evidence for this view is based mainly on those Intichiuma
-ceremonies and festivals by means of which the Australians aim to
-secure a multiplication of the totems. In these festivals, for example,
-grass seed is scattered broadcast by members of the grass seed totem,
-or a huge lizard is formed of clay by the members of the lizard totem,
-and pieces of it are strewn about. These are magic ceremonies that,
-in a certain sense, anticipate the sowing and harvest festivals of
-later times. The only difference consists in the fact that these
-primitive magic usages are not directed to the rain-bringing clouds or
-to celestial deities in petition for a blessing upon the crops, but to
-the objects themselves, to the animals and plants. Magic powers are
-ascribed to the latter; by virtue of these powers they are to multiply
-themselves. In regions where sowing and harvest do not as yet exist,
-but where man gains his food solely by gathering that which the earth
-of itself brings forth, such festivals and ceremonies are to a certain
-extent the natural precursors of the later vegetation festivals.
-
-In view of these facts, the hypothesis of the above-mentioned
-investigators seems to have much in its favour. There is a very
-important consideration, however, that obviously speaks against it. It
-is highly probable that these very ceremonies for the multiplication
-of totem objects are not indigenous to Australia, the chief centre of
-totemism, but that they, along with the plant totem, were introduced
-from without. These plant totems, as was remarked above, appear to
-have come from the Melanesian Islands, where the animal totem plays a
-small rôle, because the fauna is meagre and man is dependent in great
-measure upon plant food. Besides animal and particularly bird totems,
-therefore, which also occur on the Melanesian Islands, we find plant
-totems throughout the whole of northern Australia. These totems, as we
-may suppose, are the result of Papuan immigrations, to which are due
-also other objects of Melanesian culture to be found in the Australian
-continent. In the south, where there are no totems other than animals,
-Intichiuma ceremonies receive small emphasis. In entire harmony with
-our contentions are the conditions in America, where no festivals
-of this sort are connected with the totems themselves; an analogous
-significance is gained only later by the great vegetation festivals,
-and these presuppose agriculture, together with the beginnings of a
-celestial mythology.
-
-In more recent times, therefore, Frazer, whose great work, "Totemism
-and Exogamy," has assembled the richest collection of facts concerning
-totemic culture, has turned to an essentially different theory. He
-traces all forms of totemism back to conception totemism. Since the
-latter, as we have already stated, probably arose out of individual
-totemism, we are again confronted by an individualistic view, much as
-in the hypothesis of the origin from names. Frazer derives conception
-totemism from the dreams which mothers are supposed occasionally to
-have experienced before the birth of a child. The animal appearing in
-such a dream is thought to have become the totem or guardian animal of
-the child. But, though conception totemism, as well as sex totemism,
-may possibly have some connection with such phenomena--the fact that
-the animals here concerned are chiefly nocturnal animals suggests that
-such may be the case--totemism as a whole may, nevertheless, scarcely
-be derived from dreams. Still less can this hypothesis be harmonized
-with the fact that conception totemism is an anomaly. The ideas centred
-about it are but of rare occurrence within the system of totemic
-culture as a whole. Moreover, as Frazer also has assumed, they never
-appear except as an offshoot of individual totemism, and this in turn,
-when viewed in all its phases, cannot be regarded otherwise than as a
-product of tribal totemism. In its reference to the dream, however,
-this hypothesis may perhaps contain an element of truth, inasmuch as
-it involves ideas that obviously play an important rôle in totemism.
-This is shown particularly by reference to the totem animals that are
-found most commonly in Australia, and that suggest a relation between
-totemism and animistic ideas of the soul.
-
-As a matter of fact, the totem is already itself the embodiment of a
-soul. Either the soul of an ancestor or that of a protective being
-is regarded as incorporated in the animal. The other totems, such
-as plants or totem fetishes (churingas), are obviously derivative
-phenomena, and the same is true of those legendary beings that inhabit
-the churingas as spirits, or that gave them to the ancestors for the
-purposes of magic. Now, originally, the totem was probably always
-an animal. But a survey of the great mass of animistic conceptions
-prevalent in all parts of the world shows that in this case also it
-is particularly the animal that is represented as capable of becoming
-the receptacle of a human soul after death. Animals, of course, are
-not all equally suited to this purpose. Some are more apt than others
-to be regarded as soul animals, particularly such as are characterized
-by rapid movement, flight through the air, or by other features that
-arouse surprise or uncanny dread. Thus, even in the popular belief
-of to-day, it is especially the snake, the lizard, and the mouse, in
-addition to the birds, that are counted among the soul animals. If,
-now, with these facts in mind, we cast a glance over the list of totem
-animals, we are at once struck by the fact that the most common among
-them are soul animals. In Australia, we find the hawk, the crow, and
-the lizard; in America, the eagle, the falcon, and the snake.
-
-In respect to these ideas, the totemic age marks an important
-turning-point in the history of soul conceptions. Primitive man regards
-that which we have succinctly called the 'corporeal soul' (p. 82) as
-the principal, and perhaps originally as the only, soul. At death,
-the soul is believed to remain in the body, wherefore primitive man
-flees in terror from the corpse. Even at this stage, of course, we
-occasionally find traces of a different idea. The soul may also be
-regarded as active outside of the body, in the form of a demoniacal
-being. But as yet these ideas are generally fluctuating and undefined.
-There then comes a change, dependent, just as are the other cultural
-transformations, on the strife and warfare arising as a result of
-tribal migrations. This change, as we may suppose, is due to the
-fact that tribal struggles bring with them the impressive spectacle
-of sudden death. One who is killed in battle exhibits the contrast
-between life and death so directly that, even though the belief in
-the continued existence of the soul within the body still survives,
-it nevertheless permits the co-presence of other more advanced
-conceptions. Thus _two_ sets of ideas come to be developed. On the
-one hand, the soul is believed to depart with the blood. In place of
-the entire body, therefore, the blood comes to be the chief vehicle
-of the soul. Blood magic, which by itself constitutes an extensive
-chapter in the history of magic beliefs, and which is prevalent in all
-periods of culture, has its source in this conception. Further factors
-then enter into the development. In addition to the blood, the inner
-parts of the body, which are exposed in cases of violent death, become
-vehicles of the soul. The idea of the sudden departure of the soul
-is then transferred from the one who is killed to the dying person in
-general. With the exhalation of his last breath, his soul is thought
-to depart from him. The soul is therefore conceived as a moving form,
-particularly as an animal, a bird, a rapidly gliding snake, or a lizard.
-
-In dealing, later, with the soul conceptions of the totemic age, we
-will consider these several motives in their independent influence
-as well as in their reciprocal action upon one another. Here we can
-touch upon them only in so far as they harbour the sources of totemism
-itself. But in this connection two facts are of decisive importance.
-In the first place, the original totem, and the one which continues
-to remain most common, is the animal; and, secondly, the earliest
-totem animals are identical with soul animals. But in addition to soul
-animals, other animals also may later readily come to be regarded
-as totems, particularly such as continually claim man's attention,
-as, for example, game animals. Thus, the soul motives are brought
-into interplay with other influences, springing in part from the
-emotions associated with the search for daily food, though primarily
-with success or failure in the chase. As a result, the soul motives
-obviously become less prominent, and the totem animal, freed from this
-association, acquires its own peculiar significance, which fluctuates
-between the ancestral idea and that of a protective demon. The concern
-for food, which was at first operative only as a secondary motive, was
-heightened in certain localities where the natural environment was
-poor, and, with the influx of immigrant tribes, it assumed ever greater
-prominence. In this way, plant totems came to be added to animal
-totems; finally, as a result of certain relations of these two totems
-to inanimate objects, there arose a fetishistic offshoot of totemism.
-This again brought totemism into close connection with ancestor ideas,
-and contributed also towards the transition from animal to human
-ancestors.
-
-Thus, then, totemic ideas arise as a result of the diremption of
-primitive soul ideas into the _corporeal soul_ and the _breath-_ and
-_shadow-soul_. That the two latter are associated, is proven also by
-the history of totemism. Folk belief, even down to the present, holds
-that the soul of the dying person issues in his last breath and that it
-possesses the form of an animal. The soul of one who has recently died,
-however, appears primarily in dreams and as a phantom form. Now, the
-totem animal has its genesis in the transformation of the breath-soul
-into an animal. The shadow-soul of the dream, moreover, exercises
-an influence on individual totemism, as it does also on conception
-totemism and on sex totemism.
-
-Thus, totemism is directly connected with the belief in souls--that
-is to say, with _animism_. It represents that branch of animism which
-exercised a long-continuing influence on the tribal organization as
-well as on the beliefs of peoples. But before turning to these final
-aspects of totemism and their further developments, it is necessary to
-consider another group of ideas which, in their beginnings, occupied
-an important place within the circle of totemic beliefs. The ideas to
-which I refer are those connected with the custom of _taboo_.
-
-
-
-10. THE LAWS OF TABOO.
-
-
-It is a significant fact that 'totem' and 'taboo' are concepts for
-which our cultural languages possess no adequate words. Both these
-terms are taken from the languages of so-called natural peoples,
-'totem' from an idiom of the North American Indians, and 'taboo'
-from the Polynesian languages. The word 'totem' is as yet relatively
-uncommon in literature, with the exception of books on ethnology and
-folk psychology; the word 'taboo,' on the other hand, is much in use.
-A thing is called taboo when it may not be touched, or when it must
-be avoided for some reason, whether because of its peculiar sanctity
-or contrariwise because its harmful influence renders it 'impure,'
-defiling every one who comes into contact with it. Thus, two opposing
-ideas are combined in the conception of taboo: the idea of the sacred
-as something to be avoided because of its sanctity, and that of the
-impure or loathsome, which must be avoided because of its repulsive or
-harmful nature. These ideas combine in the conception of _fear_. There
-is, indeed, one sort of fear which we call _awe_, and another termed
-_aversion_. Now, the history of taboo ideas leaves no doubt that in
-this case awe and aversion sprang from the same source. That which
-aroused aversion at a later age was in the totemic period chiefly an
-object of awe, or, at any rate, of fear--that is, of a feeling in which
-aversion and awe were still undifferentiated. That which is designated
-by the simplest word [_Scheu_] is also earliest in origin; awe
-[_Ehrfurcht_] and aversion [_Abscheu_] developed from fear [_Scheu_].
-
-If, now, we associate the term 'taboo' in a general way with an object
-that arouses fear, the earliest object of taboo seems to have been the
-totem animal. One of the most elemental of totemic ideas and customs
-consists in the fact that the members of a totem group are prohibited
-from eating the flesh of the totem, and sometimes also from hunting the
-totem animal. This prohibition, of course, can have originated only
-in a general feeling of fear, as a result of which the members of a
-totemic group are restrained from eating or killing the totem animal.
-In many regions, where the culture, although already totemic, is,
-nevertheless, primitive, the totem animal appears to be the only object
-of taboo. This fact alone makes it probable that totemism lies at the
-basis of taboo ideas. The protective animal of the individual long
-survived the tribal totem and sometimes spread to far wider regions.
-Similarly, the taboo, though closely related to tribal organization
-in origin, underwent further developments which continued after the
-totemic ideas from which it sprang had either entirely disappeared or
-had, at any rate, vanished with the exception of meagre traces. This
-accounts for the fact that it is not in Australia, the original home
-of the totem, that we find the chief centre of taboo customs, nor in
-Melanesian territory, where the totem is still fairly common, nor in
-North America, but in Polynesia.
-
-It is in Polynesia, therefore, that we can most clearly trace the
-spread of taboo ideas beyond their original starting-point. The taboo
-of animals is here only incidental; man himself is the primary object
-of taboo--not every individual, but the privileged ones, the superiors,
-the priest, the chieftain. Closely related to the fact that man is
-thus held taboo, is the development of chieftainship and the gradual
-growth of class differences. The higher class becomes taboo to the
-lower class. This fear is then carried over from the man himself to
-his possessions. The property of the nobleman is taboo to every other
-person. The taboo has not merely the force of a police law, similar
-to that whereby, in other localities, men of superior rank prohibit
-entrance to their parks; it is a religious law, whose transgression
-is eventually punished by death. It is particularly the chief and his
-property that are objects of taboo. Where the taboo regulations were
-strict, no one was allowed to venture close to the chief or even to
-speak his name. Thus, the taboo might become an intolerable constraint.
-In Hawaii, the chief was not allowed to raise his own food to his
-mouth, for he was taboo and his contact with the food rendered this
-also taboo. Hence the Hawaian chief was obliged to have a servant feed
-him. The objects which he touched became taboo to all individuals. In
-short, he became the very opposite of a despotic ruler, namely, the
-slave of a despotic custom.
-
-From the individual person, the taboo was further extended to
-localities, houses, and lands. A member of the aristocratic class
-might render taboo not only his movable property but also his land.
-The temple, in particular, was taboo, and, together with the priests,
-it retained this character longer than any other object. The taboo
-concerned with the eating of certain animals, however, also remained
-in force for a long time. Though these animals were at first avoided
-as sacred, the taboo of the sacred, in this case, later developed into
-that of the impure. Thus, this conception recurs, in a sense, to its
-beginning. For the fear that is associated with the animals which the
-totem group regards as sacred, is here combined with the fear that the
-eating of the flesh is harmful. Sickness or even death is believed to
-follow a transgression of such a taboo regulation. Even in its original
-home, however, the taboo assumes wider forms. It subjects to its
-influence the demon-ideas that reach back even to pretotemic times. The
-corpse particularly, and the sick person also, are held taboo because
-of the demoniacal magic proceeding from them. Likewise the priest and
-the chief are taboo, because of their sacredness. Thus, the taboo gains
-a circle of influence that widens according as totemic ideas proper
-recede. The taboo which the upper classes placed upon their property
-had come to be such a preponderant factor in Polynesian custom that
-the first investigators of these regions believed the taboo in general
-to be chiefly an institution whereby the rich aimed to protect their
-property by taking advantage of the superstition of the masses.
-
-One of the most remarkable extensions of the scope of taboo is the
-_taboo which rests on relations by marriage._ The history of exogamy,
-whose earliest stages are represented by the totemic marriage laws of
-the Australians, clearly teaches that the aversion to marriage between
-blood relations was not the cause but at most, to a great extent, the
-effect of exogamous customs that everywhere reach back into a distant
-past. But there is a second class of marriage prohibitions, and this
-likewise has found a place even in present-day legislation--the
-prohibition of unions between relations by marriage. Such prohibitions
-are from the very beginning outside the pale of exogamous laws.
-Indeed, it is clear that all unions of this sort--such, for example,
-as are forbidden by our present laws--were permitted by the totem and
-clan exogamy of the Australians and that of the American Indians. In
-the case of maternal descent, the group from which a man must select
-his wife included his mother-in-law as well as his wife. Similarly,
-in the case of paternal descent, the husband and father-in-law were
-totem associates. There is another set of customs, however, which
-is generally connected with even the earliest forms of exogamy, and
-which fills out in a very remarkable way the gap that appears in the
-original totemic exogamy when this is compared with present-day
-legislation. These customs are no other than the laws of taboo. One of
-the earliest and most common of these regulations is the _taboo of the
-mother-in-law_. Corresponding to it, not so common and yet obviously
-a parallel phenomenon occasionally connected with it, is the _taboo
-of the father-in-law_. The relative distribution of the two taboos is
-analogous to that of maternal and paternal descent in the primitive
-condition of society, for it is maternal descent that is dominant.
-This is not at all meant to imply that there is any casual[1] relation
-between these phenomena. Rather is it true, probably, that they are
-based upon similar motives, and that these motives, just as in the
-case of marriage between relations, are more potent in the case of
-the mother than in that of the father. In general, however, the taboo
-of parents-in-law signifies that the husband must so far as possible
-avoid meeting his mother-in-law, and the wife, her father-in-law.
-Now, it is evident that in so far as this avoidance excludes the
-possibility of marriage, the custom is, in a way, supplementary to
-exogamy. Wherever maternal descent prevails, no one may marry his
-mother; and, where taboo of the mother-in-law exists, no one may marry
-his mother-in-law. The same holds of father and daughter, and of father
-and daughter-in-law, in the case of paternal descent. This analogy
-may possibly indicate the correct clue to the interpretation of the
-phenomena. It would certainly be erroneous to regard the taboo of the
-mother-in-law as a regulation intentionally formulated to prevent
-unions between direct relations by marriage. Yet there is evidence
-here of a natural association by virtue of which the fear of marriage
-with one's own mother, which, though not caused by the exogamous
-prohibition, is nevertheless greatly strengthened by it, is directly
-carried over to the mother-in-law. Between a woman and the husband of
-her daughter there thus arises a state of taboo such as is impossible
-between mother and son because, from the time of his birth on, they are
-in close and constant relation with each other. In consequence of the
-above-mentioned association, mother and mother-in-law, or father and
-father-in-law, form a unity analogous to that which obtains between man
-and wife. What is true of the husband, is also true in the case of the
-wife; similarly, what holds for the mother of the husband holds no less
-for the mother of the wife.
-
-Striking evidence of the effect of an association of ideas that
-is perfectly analogous to the one underlying the taboo of the
-mother-in-law, is offered by a custom which is doubtless generally
-only local in scope and yet is found in the most diverse parts of the
-earth, thus showing plainly that it is autochthonous in character. I
-refer to the custom of so-called father-confinement or 'couvade.' This
-custom prevails in various places, occurring even in Europe, where it
-is practised by the Basques of the Pyrenées, a remarkable fragment of a
-pre-Indo-Germanic population of Europe. Due, probably, to the heavier
-tasks which these people impose upon women, it here occasionally
-occurs in an exaggerated form. Even after the mother has already begun
-to attend to her household duties, the father, lying in the bed to
-which he has voluntarily retired, receives the congratulations of the
-relatives. Custom also demands that he subject himself to certain
-ascetic restrictions, namely, that he avoid the eating of certain kinds
-of food. The custom of couvade is clearly the result of an ideational
-association between husband and wife--one that is absolutely analogous
-to that between the two mothers of the married couple. The child owes
-its existence to both father and mother. Both, therefore, must obey the
-regulations which surround birth, and thus they are also subject to the
-same taboo. Just as there is very commonly a taboo on the mother and
-her new-born child, so also, in the regions where couvade exists, is
-this transferred to the husband.
-
-As is well known, the last vestiges of the taboo of the mother-in-law
-have not yet disappeared, though they survive only in humour, as do
-many other customs that were once seriously practised. In fact, there
-is no other form of relationship, whether by blood or by marriage,
-that is so subjected to the satire of daily life as well as to the
-witticisms and jokes of comic papers as is that of the unfortunate
-mother-in-law. Thus, the primitive taboo resting on the mother-in-law
-and also, even though in lesser degree, on the father-in-law, has
-registered itself in habits that are relatively well known. Graver
-results of the regulations of ancient custom are doubtless to be found
-in those prohibitions of union between relatives by marriage that still
-constitute essential elements of present-day laws. This, of course,
-does not mean that these prohibitions are unjustifiable or that they do
-not reflect natural feelings. They but exemplify the fact that every
-law presupposes a development which, as a rule, goes back to a distant
-past, and that the feelings which we to-day regard as natural and
-original had a definite origin and assumed their present character as
-the outcome of many changes.
-
-Alongside of these later forms of the taboo, and outlasting them, we
-have its most primitive form. This is the taboo which rests on the
-eating of certain foods, particularly the flesh of certain animals,
-though less frequently it applies also to occasional plants. The
-latter, however, probably represents a transference, just as does plant
-totemism. A particular example of such a taboo is the avoidance of
-the bean by the Grecian sect of Orphians and by the Pythagoreans whom
-they influenced. The taboo of certain animals survived much longer.
-But it was just in this case that there came an important shift of
-ideas which gave to the taboo a meaning almost the opposite of that
-which it originally possessed. Proof of such a change is offered by
-the Levitical Priests' Code of Israel. The refined casuistry of the
-priests prescribed even to details what the Israelite might eat and
-what was taboo for him. For the Israelite, however, this taboo was
-not associated with the sacred but with the unclean. The original
-taboo on the eating of the flesh of an animal related, in the totemic
-period, to the sacred animal. This is the taboo in its original form.
-The Australian shrinks from eating the flesh of his totem animal, not
-because it is unclean, but because he fears the revenge of demons
-if he consumes the protective animal of his group. In the Priests'
-Code, the sacred object has become entirely transmuted into an unclean
-object, supposed to contaminate all who eat of it. It is a striking
-fact, however, that the animals which are regarded as unclean are
-primarily the early totem animals--the screech-owl, the bat, the eagle,
-the owl, etc. Of the animals that live in or near the sea, only those
-may be eaten that have scales, that is, only fish proper, and not the
-snake-like fish. The snake itself and the snake-like reptiles are
-taboo, as well as numerous birds--all of which were at a very early
-period totem animals. Heading the list of the animals that may be
-eaten, on the other hand, are the ox, the sheep, the goat--in short,
-the animals of an agricultural and sheep-raising culture. Thus, as
-the original magical motives of taboo disappear, their place is taken
-by the emotion of fear, which causes the object arousing it to appear
-as unclean. Whoever touches such an object is polluted in a physical
-as well as a moral sense, and requires a cleansing purification
-according to rites prescribed by cult. We cannot avoid the impression,
-accordingly, that the unclean animals held to be taboo by the Priests'
-Code, are the same as those which this same people regarded as sacred
-soul and totem animals at an earlier stage of culture. Thus, these
-prohibitions with reference to food are analogous to the impassioned
-preaching against false idolatry--both refer back to an earlier cult.
-In this category belongs also the prohibition of consuming the blood of
-animals in the eating of their flesh. This likewise is the survival of
-a very common belief--certainly prevalent also among the Israelites at
-one time--that with the blood of an animal one might appropriate its
-spirit-power. The priestly law transforms this motive into its direct
-opposite. For the text expressly says: "In the blood is the life; but
-ye shall not destroy the life together with the flesh."
-
-Thus, the significance of the taboo shifts from the sacred, which
-evokes man's fear, to the unclean and demoniacal, which also arouse
-fear but in the form of aversion. Closely related to this change is
-a group of views and customs resulting from this last form of taboo
-and reaching down, as its after-effects, far into the later religious
-development. These are the _purification rites_ connected with the
-ideas of clean and unclean. The word _lustratio_, by which the Romans
-designated these rites, is really more appropriate than the German
-word _Reinigung_, since it suggests more than merely the _one_ aspect
-of these usages. Indeed, the idea of purification is not even primary,
-any more than the conception of the unclean is the initial stage in the
-development of the taboo. On the other hand, the idea that a man might
-be exposed to demoniacal powers by touching an object or by eating a
-certain food, such, for example, as the flesh of certain animals, is in
-entire accord with such primitive notions as are expressed in the fear
-of the corpse and of sickness, as well as in other similar phenomena.
-The essential thing is to escape the demon who is harboured in the
-particular object of concern. This impulse is so irresistible that,
-whenever the idea of taboo arises, the conception of lustration, of a
-magic counteraction to the demoniacal power, is also evolved. Thus,
-magic and counter-magic, here, as everywhere, stand in antithesis. The
-means of such counter-magic are not only very similar throughout the
-most remote parts of the earth, but externally they remain the same
-even throughout the various stages of culture. There are only _three_
-means by which an individual may free himself from the effects of a
-violation of taboo--_water, fire_, and _magical transference_.
-
-Of these means, the one which is the most familiar to us is water.
-Just as water removes physical uncleanness, so also does it wash away
-soul or demoniacal impurity--not symbolically, for primitive man has
-no symbols in our sense of the word, but magically. As water is the
-most common element, so also is it the most common magical means of
-lustration. Besides water, fire also is employed; generally it is
-regarded as the more potent element--in any event, its use for this
-purpose anteceded that of water. Fire, no less than water, is supposed
-to remove the impurity or the demoniacal influences to which a man
-has been exposed. It is especially peculiar to fire, however, that
-it is held not only to free an individual from an impurity which he
-has already contracted, but also to protect him from the possibility
-of contamination. This preventive power, of course, later came to be
-ascribed to water also. Indeed, all the various means of lustration
-may come to be substituted for one another, so that each of them may
-eventually acquire properties that originally belonged exclusively to
-one of the others. The third form of purification, finally, consists
-in a magical transference of the impurity from man to other objects
-or to other beings, as, for example, from a man to an animal. Closely
-associated with such a transference are a considerable number of
-other magic usages. These have even found their way down into modern
-superstition. We need but refer to the above-mentioned cord-magic, by
-which a sickness, for example, is transferred to a tree by tying a cord
-around it.
-
-In the primitive cult ceremonies of the Australians, lustration is
-effected almost exclusively by fire. In America also fire still plays
-an important rôle, particularly in the cult ceremonies of the Pueblo
-peoples. They kindle a great fire, about which they execute dances. In
-the initiation ceremonies of the Australians, the youths must approach
-very close to the fire or, at times, leap over it. In this way they are
-made proof against future attacks. Such fire-magic reaches down even
-into later civilizations. A survival of this sort is the St. John's
-fire still prevalent in many regions of Europe and, in view of its
-origin, still frequently called 'solstice fire' in southern Germany.
-On these occasions also, the young men and maidens leap over the fire
-and expose themselves to the danger of its flames, in the belief that
-whatever they may wish at the time will come to pass. Here again, as in
-the Australian initiation ceremonies, lustration by fire signifies a
-magic act having reference to the future.
-
-Water is a far more common means of lustration than fire. It everywhere
-gained the ascendancy and at the same time very largely preserved its
-original significance. From early times on it combined the power
-of removing the impurities resulting from the violation of a taboo,
-or, more widely applied, of cleansing from guilt, with the power of
-protecting against impending impurity and guilt. Thus, even in the
-beginnings of taboo usages, the bath, or ablution, was a universal
-means of purification. The _sprinkling_ with water, on the other
-hand, which has held its place even in Christian cult, is a means of
-purification directed primarily to the future. In the so-called Jordan
-festivals of the Greek Catholic Church, ordinary water is changed into
-Jordan water by the magic of the priest. The believer is confident that
-if he is sprinkled with this water he will commit no sin in the course
-of the following year.
-
-Less common, on the whole, is the third form of lustration, that by
-magical transference. Israelitic legend affords a striking example of
-such lustration in the goat which, laden with the sins of Israel, is
-driven by Aaron into the wilderness. He takes the goat, lays both his
-hands on its head, and whispers the sins of Israel into its ear. The
-goat is then driven into the wilderness, where it is to bury the sins
-in a distant place. An analogous New Testament story, moreover, is
-related in St. Matthew's Gospel. We are here told that, in Galilee, a
-man who was possessed of many demons was freed from them by Jesus, who
-commanded them to pass into a herd of swine that happened to be near
-by. Since the demons had previously begged Jesus not to destroy them,
-they were banished into these animals. The swine, however, plunged into
-an adjacent sea, and thus the demons perished with them.
-
-Totem, taboo, lustration, and counter-magic, accordingly, were
-originally closely related to one another, though each of them proved
-capable of initiating new tendencies and of undergoing a further
-independent development. The totem, for example, gave rise to numerous
-sorts of protective demons; the taboo was transferred to the most
-diverse objects, such as aroused feelings of fear and aversion;
-lustration led to the various counter agencies that freed men's minds
-from the ideas of contamination and guilt. These institutions,
-however, were themselves based upon certain more elementary ideas
-whose influence was far from being exhausted in them. On the one hand,
-totemic belief grew out of the belief in souls; on the other hand,
-totemic ideas were the precursors of further developments. The activity
-of totem ancestors was associated with certain inanimate objects,
-such as the Australian churingas, to which magical powers were held
-to have been transmitted. Inasmuch as the totem animal was also an
-ancestral animal, it formed the transition to the elevation of human
-ancestors into cult objects, first on a par with animal ancestors and
-later exalted above them. Thus, there are three sets of ideas which,
-in part, form the bases of totemism, and, in part, reach out beyond
-it, constituting integral factors of further developments of the most
-diverse character. These ideas may be briefly designated as _animism,
-fetishism,_ and _ancestor worship_. Animism, as here used, refers to
-the various forms of the belief in souls. By fetishism, on the other
-hand, is universally meant the belief in the demoniacal power of
-inanimate objects. Ancestor worship, finally, is the worship in cult
-of family or tribal ancestors. The original totemism passes over into
-the higher ancestor worship, which, in turn, issues in hero cult, and
-finally in the cult of the gods.
-
-
-[1] transcribers' note: "causal" is probably meant here.
-
-
-
-11. SOUL BELIEFS OF THE TOTEMIC AGE.
-
-
-Soul ideas, as we have already noted, constitute the basis of totem
-belief, and may thus be said to date back into the pretotemic age, even
-though it is obviously only within the totemic period that they attain
-to their more complete development. If we include the whole of the
-broad domain of soul belief under the term _animism_, the latter, in
-its many diverse forms, may be said to extend from the most primitive
-to the highest levels of culture. It is fitting, however, to enter upon
-a connected account of animism at this point, because the development
-of the main forms of soul belief and of their transformations takes
-place within the totemic age. Moreover, not only is totemism closely
-dependent from the very beginning upon soul conceptions, but the
-development of soul conceptions is to an equal degree affected by
-totemism.
-
-Soul belief, thus, constitutes an imperishable factor in all
-mythology and religion. This accounts for the fact that there are
-some mythologists as well as certain psychologists of religion who
-actually trace all mythology and religion to animism, believing that
-soul ideas first gave rise to demon and ancestor cults, and then to the
-worship of the gods. This view is maintained by Edward Tylor, Herbert
-Spencer, Julius Lippert, and a number of others. Undeniable as it is
-that soul belief has exerted an important influence upon mythological
-and religious thought, it nevertheless represents but one factor among
-others. For this very reason, however, we must consider separately
-its own peculiar conditions, since it is thus alone that we can gain
-an understanding of its relation to the other factors of mythological
-thought. The fittest place for examining this general interconnection
-is just at this point, where we are in the very midst of totemic ideas,
-and where we encounter the transformations of soul ideas in a specially
-pronounced form. Everything goes to show that the most important
-change in the history of the development of soul belief falls within
-the totemic period. This change consists in the distinction between a
-soul that is bound to the body, and which, because of this permanent
-attachment, we will briefly call the _corporeal soul_, and a soul which
-may leave the body and continue its existence independently of it.
-Moreover, according to an idea particularly peculiar to the totemic
-age, this latter soul may become embodied in other living beings,
-especially in animals, but also in plants, and even in inanimate
-objects. We will call this soul _psyche_, the breath or shadow soul. It
-is a breath soul because it was the exhalation of the breath, perhaps,
-that first suggested these ideas; it is a shadow soul since it was
-the dream image, in particular, that gave to this soul the form of a
-shadowy, visible but intangible, counterpart of man. As a fleeting
-form, rapidly appearing and again disappearing, the shadow soul is a
-variety of breath soul. The two readily pass over into each other, and
-are therefore regarded as one and the same psyche.
-
-There is ground for the conjecture that the distinction between these
-two main forms of the soul, the corporeal and the breath or shadow
-soul, is closely bound up with the changed culture of the totemic age.
-Primitive man flees from the corpse--indeed, even from those who are
-sick, if he sees that death is approaching. The corpse is left where
-it lies, and even the mortally ill are abandoned in their helpless
-condition. The living avoid the places where death has entered. All
-this changes in an age that has become familiar with struggle and
-death, and particularly with the sudden death which follows upon the
-use of weapons. This is exemplified even by the natives of Australia,
-who are armed with spear and shield. The warrior who falls before the
-deadly weapon, whose blood flows forth, and who expires in the midst of
-his fellow-combatants, arouses an entirely different impression from
-the man of the most primitive times who dies in solitude, and from
-whose presence the living flee. In addition to the original ideas of a
-soul that is harboured in the body, and that after death wanders about
-the neighbourhood as an invisible demon, we now have a further set of
-ideas. The soul is believed to leave the body in the form of the blood.
-But it may take an even more sudden departure, being sometimes supposed
-to leave in the last breath. In this case, it is held to be directly
-perceptible as a small cloud or a vapour, or as passing over into some
-animal that is swift of movement or possesses such characteristics as
-arouse an uncanny feeling. This idea of a breath soul readily leads to
-the belief that the psyche, after its separation from the body, appears
-in the dream image, again temporarily assuming, in shadowy form, the
-outlines of its original body.
-
-Now the most remarkable feature of this entire development is the fact
-that the idea of the corporeal soul in no wise disappears, as one
-might suppose, with the origin of the breath or shadow soul. On the
-contrary, both continue to exist without any mutual interference. This
-is noticeable particularly in the case of death in war. The belief
-that the soul leaves the body with the blood may here be directly
-combined with the belief that it departs with the breath, though the
-two ideas fall under entirely different categories. Even in Homer this
-combination of ideas is still clearly in evidence. The breath soul is
-said to descend to Hades, there to continue its unconscious existence
-as a dreamlike shadow, while at the same time the corporeal soul is
-thought to inhere not only in the blood but also in other parts of the
-body. Certain particular organs of the body are held to be vehicles
-of the soul; among these are the heart, the respiratory organs, and
-the diaphragm, the latter probably in connection with the immediately
-adjacent kidneys, which these primitive soul ideas usually represent
-as an important centre of soul powers. The believer in animism was
-not in the least aware of any contradiction in holding, as he did for
-a long time, that these two forms, the corporeal soul and the breath
-soul, exist side by side. His concern was not with concepts that might
-be scientifically examined in such a way as to effect a reconciliation
-of the separate ideas or a resolution of their contradictions. Even
-the ancient Egyptians, with their high civilization, preserved a firm
-belief in a corporeal soul, and upon this belief they based their
-entire practice of preserving bodies by means of embalmment. The reason
-for leaving the mouth of the mummy open was to enable the deceased
-person to justify himself before the judge of the dead. That the mummy
-was very carefully enclosed in its burial chamber and thus removed
-from the sphere of intercourse of the living, indicates a survival of
-the fear of demoniacal power which is characteristic of the beginnings
-of soul belief. The Egyptians, however, also developed the idea of a
-purely spiritual soul. The latter was held to exist apart from the body
-in a realm of the dead, from which it was supposed occasionally to
-return to the mummy. It was by this simple expedient of an intercourse
-between the various souls that mythological thought here resolved the
-contradiction between unity and multiplicity as affecting its soul
-concepts--a contradiction which even later frequently claimed the
-attention of philosophy.
-
-When, on a more advanced cultural level, the structure of the body
-came to be more closely observed, a strong impetus was given towards
-a progressive differentiation of the corporeal soul. Certain parts of
-the body, in particular, were singled out as vehicles of the soul.
-Those that are separable from the body, such, for example, as certain
-secretions and the products of growth, received a sort of intermediate
-position between the corporeal soul proper and the breath soul. Chief
-among these was the blood. Among some peoples, particularly the Bantus
-of South Africa, the saliva rivals the blood in importance, possibly
-because of the readily suggested association with the soul that departs
-in the vapour of the breath. The blood soul, however, is by far the
-most universal and most permanent of these ideas. In its after-effects
-it has survived even down to the present. For, when we speak of a
-'blood relationship' uniting those persons who stand close to one
-another through ancestry, the word 'blood' doubtless represents a sort
-of reminiscence of the old idea of a blood soul. To the dispassionate
-eye of the physiologist, the blood is one of the most unstable elements
-of the body, so that, so far as the blood is concerned, the father
-and mother certainly transmit nothing of a permanent nature to their
-descendants. More stable parts of the organism are much more likely
-to be inherited. But, in spite of the fact that blood is one of the
-most transitory of structures, it continues to be regarded as the
-vehicle of the relationship existing between members of a family,
-and even between tribally related nations. More striking expressions
-of the idea of a blood soul are to be found on primitive levels. In
-concluding the so-called blood brotherhood, the exchange of blood,
-according to prevalent belief, mediates the establishment of an actual
-blood relationship. In accordance with a custom which probably sprang
-up independently in many different parts of the earth, each of the two
-parties to the compact, upon entering this brotherhood, took a drop of
-blood from a small, self-inflicted wound and transferred it to the
-corresponding wound of the other. Since the drop of exchanged blood
-represents the blood in general--not merely symbolically, as it were,
-but in real actuality--the two who have entered into the alliance have
-become nearest blood relatives, and thus brothers.
-
-The idea that a soul exists in the blood, however, has also a converse
-aspect. This consists in the fear of shedding blood, since the wounded
-person would thus be robbed of his soul. The belief then arises that
-one who consumes the blood of a sacrificed person or animal also gains
-his soul powers--an idea which likewise comes to have reference to
-other parts of the body, particularly to the specific bearers of the
-soul, such as the heart and the kidneys. Thus, between fear, on the
-one hand, and this striving for power, on the other, a conflict of
-emotions may arise in which the victory leans now to the one and now
-to the other side. But the striving to appropriate the soul which is
-contained in the blood tends to become dominant, since the struggle
-which enkindles the passion for the annihilation of the enemy is also
-probably the immediate cause for acting in accordance with this belief
-concerning the blood. To drink the blood of the slain enemy, to consume
-his heart--these are impulses in which the passion to annihilate the
-foe and the desire to appropriate his soul powers intensify each
-other. These ideas, therefore, also probably represent the origin of
-anthropophagy. Anthropophagy is not at all a prevalent custom among
-primitive tribes, as is generally believed. On the contrary, it is
-just among primitive peoples that it seems to be entirely lacking.
-It appears in its primary forms, as well as in its modifications,
-only where weapons and other phenomena point to intertribal wars, and
-the latter do not occur until the beginning of the totemic age. The
-totemic age, however, is the period which marks the development not
-only of the idea of the blood soul but of other soul ideas as, well.
-Accordingly, anthropophagy is, or was until recently, to be found, not
-among the most primitive peoples such as have not attained to the level
-of totemism, but precisely within the bounds of totemic culture, and,
-in part, in connection with its cults. In these cults, man, as well
-as the animal, becomes an object of sacrifice in the blood offering.
-Human sacrifice of this sort continues to be practised under conditions
-as advanced as deity cult. In the latter, anthropophagy even finds a
-temporary religious sanction, inasmuch as the priest, particularly,
-is permitted to eat of the flesh of the sacrifice. Of course, the
-perpetuation and extension of anthropophagy was not due merely to
-magical motives; even at a very early period, the food impulse was a
-contributing factor. The very fact of the relatively late origin of
-the custom, however, makes it highly improbable that the food impulse
-would, of itself and apart from magical and cult motives, ever have
-led to it, though such an explanation has been offered, especially as
-regards the regions of Oceania where animals are scarce.
-
-In the course of religious development, human sacrifice gave way to
-animal sacrifice, and cult anthropophagy was displaced by the eating of
-the flesh of the sacrificial animal. Inasmuch as the latter cult was
-not only more common than the former but everywhere probably existed
-prior to the rise of human sacrifice, this later period involved a
-recurrence of earlier conditions. Nevertheless, there were phenomena
-which clearly indicated the influence of the fear of the blood, and
-this militated against the appropriation of the blood soul. Of extreme
-significance, for example, was the injunction of the Israelitic
-Priests' Code against partaking of the blood of animals. The original
-motive for drinking the blood became a motive for abstaining from it--a
-counter-motive, in which the prohibition, as in many other cases, may
-also indicate an intentional abandonment of an earlier custom. Among
-the Israelites, as among many other Semitic tribes, the blood of the
-animals was poured out at the sacrificial altar. That which was denied
-man was fitly given to the gods, to whom the life of the animal was
-offered in its blood.
-
-In early ages, reaching down probably into the beginnings of totemic
-culture, _two_ organ complexes, in addition to the blood, were held,
-in an especial degree, to be vehicles of the corporeal soul--the
-kidneys with their surrounding fat, and the external sexual organs. The
-fact that, in many languages, kidneys and testicles were originally
-denoted by the same name, indicates that these two organs were probably
-regarded as essentially related, a view that may possibly be due to the
-position of the urethra, which apparently connects the kidneys with the
-sexual organs. The Bible also offers remarkable testimony in connection
-with the history of the belief that soul powers are resident in the
-kidneys and their appended organs. In the earlier writings of the Old
-Testament, the kidneys, as well as the heart, are frequently referred
-to as bearers of the soul. It is said of God that he searches the
-heart and tries the reins; and Job, afflicted with sorrow and disease,
-complains, "He cleaveth my reins asunder and doth not spare." The
-sacrificial laws of the Israelites, therefore, state that, in addition
-to the blood, the kidneys with their surrounding fat are the burnt
-offering which is most acceptable to God. Rationalistic interpretation
-has sometimes held that man retains the choice parts of the flesh of
-the sacrificial animal for himself and devotes the less agreeable parts
-to the gods. Such motives may have played a rôle when sacrificial
-conceptions were on the wane. The original condition, however, was
-no doubt the reverse. The most valuable part belonged to the gods,
-and this consisted of the organs that were pre-eminently the vehicles
-of the soul. Though man first aimed to appropriate the soul of the
-sacrifice for himself, the developed religious cult of a later period
-made this the privilege of the deity.
-
-It was only in early custom and cult, however, that the kidneys played
-this rôle. Indeed, as already indicated, it is not improbable that
-they owe their importance to the fact that their position led to the
-belief that they are a central organ governing particularly the sexual
-functions. That this is the case is corroborated by the fact that,
-in the further development of these ideas of a corporeal soul, the
-kidneys more and more became secondary to the external sexual organs,
-and that the latter long continued to retain the dominant importance.
-Thus, the _phallus cult_, which was prevalent in numerous Oriental
-countries and which penetrated from these into the Greek and Roman
-worlds, may doubtless be regarded as the last, as well as the most
-permanent, expression of those ideas of a central corporeal soul that
-were originally associated with the kidneys and their surrounding
-parts. At the outset, the representation of the phallus was held to be
-not a mere symbol, as it were, but the very vehicle of masculine power.
-As a productive, creative potency, it was regarded as very especially
-characteristic of the deity, and, just as the attributes of deities
-were supposed to be vested in their images, so also was this divine
-power thought to be communicated to the phallus. In addition to and
-anteceding these ideas relating to gods, the phallus was held to be the
-perfect embodiment of demons, particularly of field-demons, who cause
-the ripening and growth of the seed. The belief in phallus-bearing
-demons of fertility probably dates back to the totemic age. The cults,
-however, to which such ideas of the corporeal soul gave rise, reached
-their mature development only in the following period. It was then
-that deity belief was elaborated, and it was in connection with the
-latter that the phallus became a universal magic symbol of creative
-power. With the decline of these cults, the symbol, according to a law
-observable in the case of other phenomena also, was again relegated,
-for the most part, to the more restricted field of its origin.
-
-Vestiges and survivals of the primitive forms of the corporeal soul
-extend far down into later culture. Nevertheless, the second main form
-of soul-belief, that of the _psyche_, comes to gain the prepondering
-influence, at first alongside of the corporeal soul, and then more and
-more displacing it. In this case, the earliest form of the belief,
-that in a _breath soul_, proves to be also the most permanent. The
-idea that the soul leaves the dying person in his last breath, and
-that the breath, therefore, exercises animating or magical effects, or
-that in it the soul may pass over from one person to another, is a
-very common belief. Probably, moreover, it arose independently in many
-different localities. Some primitive tribes have the custom of holding
-a child over the bed of a dying person in order that the soul may pass
-over into it; or, a member of the family stoops over the expiring one
-to receive his soul. Virgil's _Æneid_ contains an impressive account
-relating that upon Dido's death her sister attempted to catch the soul,
-which, as she assumed, roams about as an aerial form, while she also
-carefully removed the blood from the wound in order that the soul might
-not remain within the body. Thus, the blood soul and the breath soul
-are here closely connected.
-
-In the further destinies of the breath soul, a particularly important
-incident is its passage into some swiftly moving animal, perhaps a
-bird hovering in the air, or, again, some creeping animal, such as the
-lizard or the snake, whose manner of movement arouses uncanny fear.
-It is these animals, chiefly, that are regarded as metamorphoses of
-the psyche. Remarkable evidence that the bird and snake in combination
-were regarded as vehicles of the soul may be found in the pictorial
-representations of the natives of northwestern America. The escape of
-the soul from the body is here portrayed as the departure of a snake
-from the mouth of a human figure seated in a birdlike ship. This
-picture combines three ideas, which occur elsewhere also, either singly
-or in combination, in connection with the wandering of the soul. There
-is, in the first place, the soul-bird; then the soul-ship, readily
-suggested by association with a flying bird, and recurring in the ship
-which was thought in ancient times to cross the Styx of the underworld;
-finally, the soul-snake, representing the soul in the act of leaving
-the body. This very common idea of the soul as a snake and, by further
-association, its conception as a fish, may be ascribed not only to
-the fear aroused by the creeping snake, but also to the circumstances
-attending the decomposition of the corpse. The worm which creeps out
-of the decaying body is directly perceived as a snake. Thus, corporeal
-soul and psyche are again united; in this union they mediate the idea
-of an embodied soul, which, in a certain sense, of course, is a psyche
-retransformed into a corporeal soul.
-
-With the appearance of these ideas of an embodied soul, totemism
-merges directly into soul-belief. Under the influence of the remaining
-elements of totemism, however, the soul-ideas come to be associated
-with more and more animals. The soul is no longer held to be embodied
-merely in the earliest soul-animals--bird, snake, and lizard--but other
-animals are added, such particularly as those of the chase, which
-have a closer relation to the life of man. Following upon this change
-are also the further developments mentioned above. When interest in
-the production of vegetable food is added to that of the chase, the
-same ideas become associated with plants. Their sprouting and growth
-continue to suggest soul-powers; and, even though the ancestor idea
-characteristic of the animal totem cannot attain to prominence because
-of the greater divergence of plants from man, this very fact causes the
-phenomena of sprouting and growth all the more to bring into emphasis
-the magical character of these vegetable totems. Hence it is mainly
-the plant totem that gives rise to those ceremonies and cult festivals
-which are designed for the magical increase of the totems. With the
-wane of the soul-beliefs connected with animal totemism, it is not
-only plants to which demoniacal powers are ascribed. Even inanimate
-objects come to be associated with magical ideas, either because of
-certain peculiar characteristics or because of the function which they
-perform. It is in this way that the introduction of the plant into
-the realm of totemic ideas mediates the transition from the totem to
-the _fetish_. On the other hand, as the totem animal comes more and
-more to be an ancestral animal, and as the memory of human forefathers
-gains greater prominence with the rise of culture, the animal ancestor
-changes into the _human ancestor_. Thus, fetishism and ancestor worship
-are logical developments of totemism. Though differing in tendency,
-they nevertheless constitute developmental forms which are not at all
-mutually exclusive, but which may become closely related, just as is
-the case with the animal and the plant totems from which they have
-proceeded.
-
-Before turning to these later outgrowths of totemic soul-belief,
-however, we must consider their influence upon the important customs
-relating to the _disposition of the dead_. These customs give
-expression to the ideas of death and of the destiny of the soul after
-death. Hence the changes that occur at the beginning and in the course
-of the totemic age as regards the usages relative to the disposal of
-the corpse, mirror the important transformations which the latter
-undergoes. Primitive man, as we have seen, flees from the corpse.
-Dominated solely by his fear of escaping demons, he allows the dead
-to lie where they have died. Thus, no attempt whatsoever is made to
-dispose of the dead, or at most there are but slight beginnings in
-this direction. It is not the dead who vacate the premises in favour
-of the living, but the latter accommodate themselves to the dead.
-Totemic culture, accustomed to armed warfare and sudden death, begins
-from the outset gradually to lose its fear of the dead, even though not
-the fear of death, and this reacts upon the disposal of the corpse.
-Of course, the early custom of depositing the corpse in the open air
-near the place where death has occurred, does not entirely disappear.
-This locality, however, is no longer avoided; on the contrary, anxious
-expectation and observation are now fixed upon the corpse. Just as
-totemic man drinks the blood of those who are slain in battle, in
-order to appropriate their power, so also in the case of those who die
-of disease does he wish to acquire their souls the moment they leave
-the body. Traces of such a custom, indeed, occur even in much later
-times, as is shown in Virgil's above-mentioned account of the death of
-Dido. Within the sphere of totemic ideas, however, where the belief
-in a corporeal soul is still incomparably stronger, though already
-intercrossing with the belief in animal transformations of the psyche,
-the custom of depositing the dead in the open indeed continues to be
-practised, yet the disposition of the corpse changes, becoming, in
-spite of an external similitude, almost the very opposite. The corpse
-is no longer left at the place of death, but is stretched out on a
-mound of earth. This is the so-called 'platform' method of disposal,
-which, as is evident, forms a clear transition to burial, or interment.
-Before the mound of earth covers the body, it forms a platform upon
-which the corpse is laid out to be viewed, a primitive catafalque, as
-it were. This manner of disposing of the corpse has been regarded as
-a custom characteristic of the dominance of totemic culture. This is
-going entirely beyond the facts, since other modes of disposal are
-also to be found even in Oceania and Australia, the chief centres of
-totemism. Nevertheless, the phenomena connected with exposure on a
-platform indicate that a fusion with soul-ideas has now taken place.
-Decomposition follows relatively soon after death, particularly in
-a damp, tropical climate. On the one hand, the liquid products of
-decomposition that flow from the corpse are interpreted as a departure
-of the soul analogous to that which occurs, in the case of death by
-violence, in the loss of blood. As the blood is drunk to appropriate
-the soul of the deceased, so also do the relatives now crowd in to
-partake of the liquid products of decomposition--a transference
-similar to that which sometimes occurs when the powers of the blood
-are ascribed to the saliva or to other secretions. On the other hand,
-the first worm of decomposition to leave the corpse is held to be the
-bearer of the soul. Thus, corporeal soul and psyche are here closely
-fused. The liquid products that leave the body are in themselves
-elements of the corporeal soul, but in their separation from the body
-they resemble a psyche incorporated in an external object; conversely,
-the worm of decomposition is an embodiment of the psyche, which is
-itself represented as proceeding directly from the corporeal soul.
-
-This interplay of soul-forms appears also when we consider the other
-modes of disposing of the dead that are practised in regions where
-totemic culture or its direct outgrowths prevail. Among some of the
-North American Indian tribes, for example, the corpse is buried, but
-a small hole is pierced in the mound of earth over the grave, in order
-to allow the psyche an exit from the body or also a return to it. This
-view of the relation between body and psyche passed down, in a more
-developed form, even into the other-world mythology of the ancient
-Egyptians. The mummification practised in Egypt was also anticipated,
-for the idea of the connection of the soul with the body early led to
-the exsiccation of the corpse in the open air. According to another
-usage, observed particularly in America, the corpse was first buried,
-but then, shortly afterwards, exhumed for the purpose of preserving
-the skull or other bones as vehicles of the soul. The fundamental idea
-seems to have been that the soul survives in these more permanent
-parts of the body; in the case of the skull, an appreciation of the
-importance which the various organs of the head possess for the living
-person may also have played a rôle. Possibly these ideas likewise
-lie at the basis of the discreditable head-hunting practised by the
-Indians, even though it be true that the skull, which is preserved
-and utilized as a favourite adornment of the exterior of the hut, and
-also the representative of the skull, the scalp, have long been mere
-trophies of victory, similar to the antlers of the stag and the deer
-with which our huntsmen decorate their dwellings. Of the various forms
-of disposing of the dead that are peculiar to the totemic age, however,
-it is interment, the very opposite of platform disposal, that finally
-comes to be adopted in many places. The reason is evidently the same as
-that which impelled primitive man to flee from the corpse. The demons
-of the dead are to be banished into the earth, so that the living may
-pursue their daily activities undisturbed. That this is the aim is
-shown by many accompanying phenomena--such, for example, as the custom
-of firmly stamping down the earth upon the grave, or of weighting the
-burial-mound with stones. Moreover, the custom of burying the corpse
-as soon as possible after death--ordained even at the time of the
-Israelitic law--can hardly have originated as a hygienic provision.
-It is grounded in the fear of demons. When the living themselves no
-longer flee from the dead, this fear all the more necessitates the
-speedy removal of the corpse to the secure protection of the earth. The
-fear of demons is likewise expressed in the fact that prior to burial
-the arms and legs of the corpse are bound to the body. This obviously
-points to a belief that the binding constrains the demon of the dead,
-which is thereby confined to the grave just as is the fettered corpse.
-Herein lies the origin of the so-called 'crouching graves,' which are
-still to be found among the Bushmen, as well as among Australian and
-Melanesian tribes. Gradually, however, a change took place in that the
-binding was omitted, though the position was retained--doubtless a sign
-that fear of the demon of the dead was on the wane.
-
-Under the influence of the profuse wealth of old and new soul-ideas,
-therefore, the totemic age developed a great number of modes of
-disposing of the dead. Of these modes, interment alone has survived.
-It is simpler than the others and may be practised in connection with
-the most diverse ideas of the destiny of the soul. _Cremation_ was the
-only form of disposing of the dead that was unknown, at least in large
-part, to the totemic age. And yet the motives underlying cremation
-belong to the same circle of ideas as those that find expression in
-the customs of taboo and lustration. It is not impossible, therefore,
-that cremation may itself date back to the totemic age. Yet interment
-is universally the earlier mode of disposal; in most parts of the
-earth, moreover, it has also enjoyed a greater permanence. Only in
-isolated districts has interment been displaced by cremation. Even in
-early times it was chiefly among Indo-Germanic peoples that cremation
-was practised, whereas the Semites everywhere adhered to interment.
-If, therefore, cremation occurred in ancient Babylonia, as it appears
-to have done, it probably represents a heritage from the Sumerian
-culture preceding the Semitic immigration. But even among Indo-Germanic
-peoples interment was originally universal. In Greece, it existed as
-late as the period of Mycenian culture. By the time of Homer, on
-the other hand, cremation had already become the prevalent mode of
-disposition of the corpse. Cremation was likewise practised very early
-by the Germans, the Iranians, and the peoples of India. But it was
-always conditioned by one fact which, as a rule, would seem to carry
-us beyond the boundaries of the totemic era. It is significant that
-prehistoric remains show no traces of cremation prior to the beginning
-of the bronze age--a period in which man was capable of utilizing the
-high degrees of heat necessary to melt metals. The tremendous heat
-required for the melting of bronze might well have suggested the idea
-of also melting man, as it were, in the fire. Nevertheless, external
-circumstances such as these played but a secondary rôle. They leave
-unanswered the decisive question regarding the motives that led to
-the substitution of cremation for interment. This, then, remains our
-unsolved problem, inasmuch as the economic motives at the basis of
-the present endeavour to reintroduce cremation were certainly not
-operative at the time of its origin. With reference to the origin of
-cremation, only psychological probabilities are possible to us. These
-are suggested particularly by the ceremonies which accompany cremation
-in India--the country where this custom has continued to preserve an
-important cult significance down to the very present. Indeed, even
-in our own day it has hardly been possible to eradicate from India
-the custom of burning the widow of the deceased. In particular, two
-different motives to the custom suggest themselves. In the first place,
-as we shall presently see, sacrificial usages, and especially the more
-advanced forms of the sacrifice to the deceased, are closely connected
-with the taboo and purification customs. Purification from a taboo
-violation, however, was attained primarily by two means, water and
-fire. The latter of these means was employed even in very primitive
-times. Now, the corpse, above all else, was regarded as taboo; contact
-with it was thought to bring contamination and to demand the rites
-of lustration. The one who touched a corpse was likewise held to be
-taboo, and as a result he himself might not be touched before having
-undergone lustration. By one of those associative reversals which are
-common in the field of mythology, this then reacted upon the corpse
-itself. The corpse also must be subjected to a lustration by which it
-is purified. Such a purification from all earthly dross is mediated,
-according to the ideas of India, by fire. When the body is burned,
-the soul becomes pure. But connected with this belief, as we may
-conjecture, is still a second idea. The soul or psyche departs in the
-smoke which ascends from the body as this is burned. The body remains
-below in the ashes, while the soul soars aloft to heaven in the smoke.
-In this way, the burning of the corpse is closely connected with
-celestial mythology, which, indeed, was likewise developed relatively
-early among the Indo-Germanic peoples, with whom cremation had its
-centre. The customs of the Semitic peoples were different. They adopted
-the idea of a celestial migration of the soul only at a late period,
-probably under Indo-Aryan influences; but even then they continued to
-practise the ancient custom of burial. Amid these differences, however,
-there is a certain similarity. For, the Semitic peoples believed
-that the celestial migration of the soul would occur only after its
-sojourn under the earth, following upon its resurrection, which, it was
-thought, would take place only at the end of time. It was in this form,
-as is well known, that Christianity took over into its resurrection
-belief the ideas developed by Judaism, and, with them, the custom of
-interment.
-
-
-
-12. THE ORIGIN OF THE FETISH.
-
-
-If, as is customary, we employ the term 'fetish' to mean any natural
-object to which demoniacal powers are ascribed, or, as the word itself
-(Fr. _fétiche_ from Lat. _facticius_, artificially constructed)
-indicates, an artificial, inanimate object of similar powers, a wide
-gulf appears at first glance to separate the fetish from the psyche.
-Nevertheless, the two are very closely related, as is indicated by the
-totemic origin of certain primitive forms of fetishes. In the cults
-of totemic clans, magic stones and pieces of wood are reverenced and
-preserved, being regarded as powerful instruments that were originally
-fashioned, according to legend, by magic beings of a distant past.
-Into the objects has passed the magic power of these ancestors. By
-their agency, the plants and animals which man utilizes as food may
-be increased; through them, evils may be averted and, in particular,
-diseases may be cured. The universal characteristic of the fetish,
-however, over and above this special mode of origin, is the fact that
-it is supposed to harbour a soul-like, demoniacal being. In fact, most
-of the phenomena of so-called fetishism, and those which are still
-regarded as typical of it, are to be found outside of totemic cult.
-It is primarily African fetishism, a cult form which is apparently
-independent of totemism, that has given its characteristic stamp to the
-conception of the fetish. Among the Soudan negroes, fetishes generally
-consist of artificially fashioned wooden objects, not infrequently
-bearing a grimacing likeness of a human face. As regards the possession
-of magical powers, however, they do not differ from the so-called
-churingas of the Australians, although the latter are, as a rule,
-natural objects that have been picked up accidentally and that differ
-from ordinary stones and pieces of wood only in their striking form. It
-is clearly the form, both in the case of the artificial as well as of
-the natural fetish, that has caused the inanimate object to be regarded
-as a demoniacal vehicle of the soul. Yet it is not a lifeless object
-as such that constitutes a fetish, but the fact that a demoniacal,
-soul-like being is believed to lurk within it as an agency of magical
-activities.
-
-At the time of its origin, which was probably totemic, fetishism
-possessed a more restricted meaning than that just given. Defined in
-this broader way, however, fetishism may be said to be disseminated
-over the entire earth. It is a direct offshoot of the belief in a
-corporeal soul, according to which magical powers are resident in
-certain parts of the human body. In Australia and elsewhere, the
-kidneys, particularly, are held to possess magical powers. The same,
-however, is true of the blood--also of the hair, which, as the Biblical
-legend of Samson serves to show, was supposed to be an especial centre
-of demoniacal power, and is still regarded by modern superstition as
-a means of magic. Thus, the transference of the properties of the
-soul to inanimate objects of nature appears, on the one hand, to be
-closely related to the activity of the soul in certain parts of the
-body; on the other hand, it is closely connected with the fact that
-certain independent beings, particularly such as arouse the emotions
-of surprise or fear by their form and behaviour, were believed to
-embody souls. The greater the difference between the object in which
-such a demon takes up his abode and the familiar sorts of living
-beings, the more does its demoniacal activity become a pure product
-of the emotions, which control the imagination that ascribes life
-to the object. Thus, while the characteristics of the totem animal
-and, to a certain extent, even those of the totem plant, continue to
-be determined by their own nature, the fetish is solely the product
-of the mental activities of the fetish believer. Whereas the totem,
-particularly the totem animal, retains in great part the nature of a
-soul, the fetish completely assumes the character of a demon, differing
-from the demons resident in storms, solitary chasms, and other uncanny
-places only in the fact that it is _inseparable from_ the discovered
-or artificially fashioned object. Hence it all the more becomes the
-embodiment of the emotions of its possessor, of his fears and of his
-hopes, ever adapting itself to the mood of the moment.
-
-The development of magical ideas is in an especial measure due to
-the incorporation of demoniacal beings in inanimate objects. Such
-objects circulate freely and may even survive the individual who
-owns them, gaining by their permanence an advantage over the animate
-objects to which soul-like demoniacal powers are ascribed. Inanimate
-objects may embody the magical beliefs of whole generations. This is
-exemplified even in the age of deity beliefs, for a sanctuary acquires
-increasing sacredness with age. And yet the fetish is never valued on
-its own account, as is the totem animal--in part, at least--or the
-organ containing the corporeal soul. The fetish is merely a means for
-furthering purposes of magic. It is especially the fetish, therefore,
-that represents the transition from soul-beliefs to pure magic-beliefs.
-For this reason we may speak of a 'cult of the fetish' only in so
-far as external ceremonies are employed for the purpose of arousing
-the fetish to magical activity. Such a fetish cult does not include
-expressions of reverence and thanksgiving, as do the soul and totem
-cults and later, in a greater measure, the deity cult. A fetishism of
-this sort, purely magical in purpose, may be found particularly in the
-Soudan regions of Africa. Fetishistic magic-cult here prevails in its
-most diverse forms, having, to all appearances, practically displaced
-the original soul and totem beliefs, though traces of the latter are
-everywhere present. Frequently it is an individual who calls upon his
-fetish, perhaps to free him from a sickness, or to protect him from an
-epidemic, or also to aid him in an undertaking, to influence distant
-objects, injure an enemy, etc. But an entire village may also possess a
-fetish in common, committing it to the care of the medicine-man. When
-exigencies arise, a threatening war or a famine, such a village fetish
-is particularly fêted in order that he may be induced to avert the
-disaster.
-
-Among cult objects the fetish occupies a low place. Nevertheless,
-it is precisely because the demoniacal powers were supposed to be
-harboured in an inanimate object that the fetish prepared the way for
-the numerous transitions that led to the later cult-objects in the
-form of divine images. The fetish, as it were, was a precursor within
-the totemic age of the divine image of later times. For in the case of
-the latter also, the deity was supposed to be present and immediately
-operative; the image, therefore, was called upon for assistance just
-as was the god himself. Originally, all worship involved an image that
-was supposed to embody the deity. The divine image, of course, differed
-in essential respects from the fetish, for it incorporated, as the
-personal characteristics of the god, those traits that were gradually
-developed in cult. The fetish, on the other hand, was impersonal; it
-was purely a demon of desire and fear. Because its activity resembled
-that of human beings, it was generally given anthropomorphic features,
-though occasionally it was patterned after animals. Sometimes no such
-representation was attempted, but, as in the case of the Australian
-churingas, an object was left just as it was found, particularly if
-it possessed a striking form. Nor did the divine image come of a
-sudden to its perfected form. Just as it was only gradually, in the
-development of the religious myth, that the god acquired his personal
-characteristics, so also did art search long in every particular case
-for an adequate expression of the divine idea. In so doing, art not
-merely gave expression to the religious development, but was itself an
-important factor in it. The development, however, had its beginning in
-the fetish. Moreover, so long as the god remains a demoniacal power
-without clearly defined personal traits, the divine image retains the
-indeterminate character of the fetish image. Even among the Greeks the
-earliest divine images were but wooden posts that bore suggestions of
-a human face; they were idols whose external appearance was as yet
-in nowise different from that of fetishes. The same is true of other
-cultural peoples in so far as we have knowledge of their earliest
-objects of religious art.
-
-But there may be deterioration as well as advance. Wherever artistic
-achievement degenerates into the crude products of the artisan, the
-divine image may again approximate to the fetish. Religious cult may
-suffer a similar relapse, as is shown by many phenomena of present-day
-superstition. When religious emotions are restricted to very limited
-desires of a magical nature, the cult also may degenerate into its
-earliest form, so that the image of the deity or saint, reverting
-into a fetish, again becomes a means of magic. It is primarily such
-degenerate practices, or, as they might also be called, such secondary
-fetish-cults, that give the phenomena of so-called fetishism their
-permanent importance in the history of religion. The complexity
-of this course of development has led psychologists of religion to
-conflicting views in their interpretations of fetishism. On the one
-hand, the primitive nature of fetishes, and the fact that the earliest
-divine images resemble fetishes, have led to the assertion that
-fetishism is the lowest and earliest form of religion. On the other
-hand, fetishism has been regarded as the result of a degeneration, and
-as universally presupposing earlier or contemporary religious cults of
-a higher character. The latter of these views particularly, namely,
-the degeneration theory, is still maintained by many historians of
-religion, especially by those who believe that monotheism was the
-original belief of all mankind. The evidence for this theory is derived
-mainly from cultural phenomena of the present. The image of a saint, as
-is rightly maintained, may still occasionally degenerate into a fetish,
-as occurs when it is regarded as the seat of magical powers, or when
-its owner believes that he possesses in it a household idol capable of
-bringing him weal or woe. It was particularly Max Müller who championed
-the degeneration theory. Even in his last writings on mythology he held
-firmly to the view that fetishism is a phenomenon representing the
-decay of religious cults. But if we take into account the entire course
-of development of the fetish, this view collapses. Though substantiated
-by certain events that occur within higher religions, it leaves
-unconsidered the phenomena that are primitive. The earliest fetishistic
-ideas, as we have seen, go far back into the period of soul and demon
-beliefs. Developing from the latter, they were at first closely bound
-up with them, though they later attained a relative independence, as
-did so many other mythological phenomena. To think of fetishism as a
-degeneration of religious cults is inadmissible for the very reason
-that, in so far as such cults presuppose deity ideas, they cannot as
-yet be said to exist. A striking proof of this contention is offered
-particularly by that form of fetish cult, the churingal ceremony of
-the Australians, in which the connection with related primitive ideas
-may be most clearly traced. The churingal ceremony falls entirely
-within the development of totemism, and arises naturally under certain
-conditions; it is no more the product of degeneration than is the
-appearance of plant totemism in place of animal totemism. The basal
-step in the development of the fetish is the incorporation of soul-like
-demoniacal powers in inanimate objects, whether these be objects as
-they are formed by nature or whether they are artificially constructed.
-Such objects may result from a deterioration of religious art, but
-this is by no means the only alternative. In their original forms,
-they are allied to far more primitive phenomena, such as antedate both
-religious art and even religion itself, in the true sense of the word.
-For, of the many forms of the fetish, the most primitive is obviously
-some natural object that has been accidentally discovered. Such are
-the churingas of the Australians, and also many of the fetishes of the
-negroes, although others are artificially fashioned. The selection of
-such a fetish is determined in an important measure by the fact that it
-possesses an unusual form. The man of nature expects to find symmetry
-in animals and plants, but in stones this appears as something rare.
-Astonishment, which, according to circumstances, may pass over into
-either fear or hope, causes him to believe some soul-like being to be
-resident in the inanimate object. This accounts for the existence of
-such legends as those that have survived among some of the Australian
-tribes, in which fetishes, or churingas, are represented as the legacy
-of certain fantastically conceived ancestors. From the natural to the
-artificial fetish is but a short step. When natural objects are not to
-be found, man supplies the want. He constructs fetishes, intentionally
-giving them a striking form resembling that of a man or of some animal.
-Such fetishes are then all the more regarded as abodes of soul-like
-beings.
-
-Hence we must also regard as untenable that theory which, in contrast
-with the degeneration theory, represents fetishism as a primitive
-mythology or even as the starting-point of all mythology and religion.
-The fetish is not at all an independent cult-object characteristic
-of some primitive or more advanced stage of development. It always
-represents a secondary phenomenon which, in its general significance
-as an incorporation of demoniacal powers of magic, may occur anywhere.
-If, however, we inquire as to when fetishistic ideas make their first
-appearance, and where, therefore, they are to be found in their
-relatively primitive form, we will find that they are rooted in
-totemic ideas. Hence it is as a particular modification of such ideas
-that fetishism must be regarded. In the metamorphosis, of course,
-some of the essential traits of the original totem disappear. The
-fetish, consequently, acquires a tendency toward independence, toward
-becoming, apparently, a separate cult-object. This is illustrated by
-the fetish cult of many negro tribes. To however great an extent such
-independent cults may frequently have displaced the totemism from
-which they sprang, they nevertheless belong so properly to the totemic
-world of demons and magic that fetishism, in its genuine form, may
-unquestionably be regarded as a product of the totemic age.
-
-Further verification of this contention may be found in the history
-of certain incidental products of fetishistic ideas, the _amulet_ and
-the _talisman_. These occur at all stages of religious growth, but
-their development falls principally within the totemic period. The two
-objects are closely related, yet they differ essentially both from one
-another and from their parent, the fetish. It has, of course, been
-denied that a distinction may be drawn between these various objects
-of magic belief. From a practical point of view, this may doubtless
-sometimes be true, one and the same object being occasionally used
-now as a fetish and then again as an amulet or a talisman. But it is
-precisely their use that distinguishes these objects with sufficient
-sharpness from one another. The amulet and talisman are purely magical
-objects, means by which their possessor may produce magical effects.
-The fetish, however, is a magic-working _subject_, an independent
-demoniacal being, which may lend aid but may also refuse it, or, if
-hostilely disposed, may cause injury. The amulet, on the other hand,
-always serves the purpose of protection. Not infrequently amulets
-are held to ward off merely some one particular disease; others are
-designed to avert sickness in general. In a broadened significance,
-the amulet then comes to be regarded as a protection against dangers
-of every sort, against the weapon no less than against malicious
-magic. Nevertheless, the amulet is always a means of protection to its
-possessor. It is its _passive_ function, that of protection, which
-differentiates the amulet from the talisman. The latter, which is
-far less prominent, particularly in later development, and which is
-finally to be found only in the world of imaginal tales, is an _active_
-means of magic. By means of a talisman, a man is able to perform
-at will either some one magical act or a number of magical feats.
-The philosopher's stone of mediæval superstition exemplifies such a
-means of magic. In this case, the ancient talisman-idea captured even
-science. The philosopher's stone was supposed to give its possessor
-the power to unlock all knowledge, and thus to gain control over
-the objects of nature. This illustrates the talisman in its most
-comprehensive function. In its restriction to a particular power, it
-makes its appearance in hero and deity legend, and even to-day in the
-fairy-tale. Such an active means of magic is represented by the helmet
-of invisibility, by the sword which brings death to all against whom it
-is turned, or, finally, by the _Tischlein-deck-dich_.
-
-The two magical objects are generally also sharply distinct in their
-mode of use. The amulet is designed to render protection as effectively
-as possible against external dangers; it must be visible, for every one
-must see that its bearer is protected. Hence almost all amulets are
-worn about the neck. This was true of primitive man, and holds also
-of the survivals of the ancient amulets--women's necklaces, and the
-badges of fraternal organizations worn by men. The fact that a simple
-cord was used among primitive peoples and still prevails in present-day
-superstition, makes it probable that the original amulet was the cord
-itself, fastened about the neck or, less frequently, about the loins or
-the arm. Later, this cord was used to support the amulet proper. Even
-the Australians sometimes wear a piece of dried kidney suspended from
-a cord of bast--we may recall that the kidney is one of the important
-seats of the corporeal soul. The hair, teeth, and finger-nails of
-the dead likewise serve as amulets, all of them being parts of the
-body which, because of their growth, might well give rise to the idea
-that they, particularly, possessed soul-like and magical powers. The
-custom of attaching hair, or a locket containing hair, to a necklace,
-has survived even down to the present, though, of course, with a
-far-reaching change of meaning. The magical protection of earlier ages
-has become a memorial of a loved one who has died. But here likewise we
-may assume that the change was gradual, and that the present custom,
-therefore, represents a survival of the primitive amulet. There are
-other objects also that apparently came to be amulets because of their
-connection with soul-ideas. Of these, one of the most remarkable is the
-scarab of the ancient Egyptians, which likewise continues to be worn
-even to-day. This amulet is a coloured stone shaped like a beetle--more
-specifically, the scarab. This beetle, with its red wing-coverings,
-has approximately the form of a heart; for this reason, both it and
-its representation were thought to be wandering hearts. As an amulet,
-however, its original significance was that of a vehicle of the soul,
-designed to protect against external dangers.
-
-Whereas the amulet is worn so as to be visible, the talisman, on the
-contrary, is hidden so far as possible from the observing eye. It is
-either placed where it is inconspicuous, as is, for example, the finger
-ring, or it possesses the appearance of a familiar object. The magical
-sword gives no visible evidence of its unusual power; the helmet of
-invisibility resembles an ordinary helmet; the _Tischlein-deck-dich_ of
-the fairy-tale is in form not unlike any other table. It is with much
-the same idea that the Soudan negro who sets out upon an undertaking
-still takes with him some peculiar and accidentally discovered stone,
-in the hope that it will assist him in danger. This also is an example
-of a talisman, and not of a fetish.
-
-
-
-13. THE ANIMAL ANCESTOR AND THE HUMAN ANCESTOR.
-
-
-The ideas fundamental to the cult of _human ancestors_, though also
-connected with soul-beliefs, are radically different from those that
-gave rise to the fetish. Whereas some mythologists have been inclined
-to regard fetishism as the primitive form of religion, others have made
-this claim for ancestor worship. The latter have believed that ancestor
-worship could be traced back to the very beginnings of culture, and
-that the god-ideas of the higher religions were a metamorphosis of
-ancestor ideas. This is corroborated, in their opinion, by the fact
-that in the age of natural religions the ruler or the aristocracy
-very generally claimed descent from the gods, and that the ruler and
-the hero were even worshipped as gods. The former is illustrated by
-the genealogy of Greek families; the latter, by the Roman worship of
-emperors, which itself but represented an imitation of an Oriental
-custom that was once very common. All these cases, however, are clearly
-secondary phenomena, transferences of previously existing god-ideas
-to men who were either living or had already died. But even apart
-from this, the hypothesis is rendered completely untenable by the
-facts with which the history of totemism and of the earlier, more
-primitive conditions has made us familiar. Not a trace of ancestor
-worship is to be found among really primitive men. We have clear proof
-of this in their manner of disposing of the dead. So far as possible,
-the dead are left lying where they happen to be, and no cult of any
-kind is connected with them. Totemism, moreover, gives evidence of
-the fact that the cult of animal ancestors long anteceded that of
-human ancestors. Thus, then, the theory that ancestor worship was the
-primitive religion belongs essentially to an age practically ignorant
-of totemism and its place in myth development, as well as of the
-culture of primitive man. This era of a purely _a priori_ psychology
-of religion still entertained the supposition, rooted in Biblical
-tradition, of an original state of pure monotheism. In so far as this
-view was rejected, fetishism and ancestor worship were generally rivals
-as regards the claim to priority in the succession of religious ideas.
-The only exception occurred when these practices were regarded as
-equally original, as they were, essentially, in the theories of Herbert
-Spencer, Julius Lippert, and others. In this event, the original form
-of the fetish was held to be an ancestral image which had become an
-object of cult.
-
-True, along with the totemic ideas of animal ancestors we very
-early find indefinite and not infrequently grotesque ideas of human
-ancestors. In the 'Mura-mura' legends of southern Australia these ideas
-are so interwoven that they can scarcely be untangled. These Mura-mura
-are fanciful beings of an earlier age, who are represented as having
-transmitted magical implements to the generations of the present era
-and as having instructed the ancestors of the Australians in magical
-ceremonies. A few of the legends relate that the Mura-mura also created
-the totem animals, or transformed themselves into the latter. Here,
-then, we already find a mutual interplay between ideas of human and
-conceptions of animal ancestors. As yet, however, no clear-cut idea of
-a _human_ ancestor has been formed. This never occurs--a fact of prime
-importance as concerns its development--until the _totem ancestor_ has
-lost his significance, and the original tribal totemism has therefore
-become of subordinate importance, even though totemism itself has not
-as yet completely disappeared. Under such circumstances the totem
-animal becomes the protective animal of the _individual_; the animal
-ancestor is displaced by the demon which mysteriously watches over
-the individual's life. This transition has already been touched upon
-in connection with the development of totemic ideas. Coincident with
-it, there is an important change with respect to the character of the
-totem animal. The tribal totem is an animal species. The Australian,
-whose totem, let us say, is the kangaroo, regards all kangaroos which
-he meets as sacred animals; he may not kill them, nor, above all,
-eat of their flesh. In the above-mentioned development of totemism
-(which is at the same time a retrogression) the totem animal becomes
-individualized. The protective animal--or the animal of destiny, as we
-might refer to it, in view of its many changes in meaning--is but an
-individual animal. A person may possibly never have seen the animal
-that keeps guard over him; nevertheless, he believes that it is always
-near at hand. The unseen animal which thus accompanies him is therefore
-sometimes also called his 'bush soul'; it is hidden somewhere in the
-bushes as a sort of animal double. Whatever befalls the person likewise
-happens to it, and conversely. For this reason it is very commonly
-believed that, if this animal should be killed, the person also must
-die. This makes it clear why the North American Indian calls the
-animal, not his ancestor, but his 'elder brother.'
-
-In South African districts, especially among the Bantus where the bush
-soul is common, and in North America, where the tribal totem has become
-a coat of arms, and fable and legend therefore continue all the more
-to emphasize the individual relation between a person and an animal,
-the idea of a _human_ ancestor receives prominence. The totemic tribal
-organization as a whole, together with the totemic nomenclature of
-the tribal divisions, may continue to exist, as occasionally happens
-among the Bantus and in North America, even though the tribal totems
-proper have disappeared and become mere names, and the animal itself
-possesses no live importance except as a personal protector. But since
-the totemic tribal organization perpetuates the idea of a succession
-of generations, the human ancestor necessarily comes to assume the
-place of the animal ancestor. This change is vividly represented by the
-totem poles of the Indians of northwestern America. These totem poles
-we have already described. The head of the animal whose representation
-has become the coat of arms here surmounts a series of faces of human
-ancestors. Such a monument tells us, more plainly than words possibly
-could: These are the ancestors whom I revere and who, so far as memory
-reaches back, have found the symbol of their tribal unity in the animal
-which stands at their head. But totem poles do more than merely to
-directly perpetuate this memory. Though probably without the conscious
-intention of the artists who fashioned them, they also suggest
-something else, lost to the memory of living men. In the belief of
-earlier ages, this human ancestor was preceded by an animal ancestor to
-whom the reverence which is now paid to the human ancestors was at one
-time given. Thus, the animal ancestor was not only prior to the human
-ancestor from an external point of view, but gave rise to him through a
-necessity immanent in the course of development itself.
-
-The transition from animal to human ancestors, furthermore, is closely
-bound up with coincident transformations in tribal organization.
-Wherever a powerful chieftainship arises, and an individual,
-overtowering personality obtains supremacy over a tribe or clan--such
-supremacy as readily tends to pass down to his descendants--it is
-particularly likely that a cult will be developed in his honour, and,
-upon his death, to his memory. Since the memory of this personality
-outlasts that of ordinary men, the individual himself is held to live
-on after death, even in regions where there is no belief in a universal
-immortality. Hence, according to a belief prevalent particularly
-among the negro peoples, the ordinary man perishes with death; the
-chieftain, however, or a feared medicine-man, continues to live at
-least until all memory of him has vanished. In some parts of Africa and
-Oceania, moreover, the cult of the living chieftains not only involves
-manifestations of a servile subjection but, more characteristically
-still, causes even his name to be tabooed. No one is allowed to
-speak it, and whoever bears the same name must lay it aside when the
-chieftain assumes control.
-
-As a result of the change in totemic tribal organization induced
-by the growing significance of chieftainship, the cult of _living_
-ancestors, as we may conclude from these phenomena, takes precedence
-over that of the just deceased, and still more over that of the long
-departed. In comparison with the importance which the man of nature
-attributes to living persons, that attaching to the dead is but slight,
-and diminishes rapidly as the individuals fade from memory. Individual
-rulers, whose deeds are remembered longer than those of ordinary men,
-may lay the foundations for an historical tradition. Nevertheless, the
-present long continues to assert a preponderating claim in belief as
-well as in cult. So long as man himself lives only for the present,
-having little regard for the future and scarcely any at all for the
-past, his gods also--in so far as we may apply this name to the
-supersensuous powers that shape his life--are _gods of the present_.
-True, the totem animal is secondarily also an animal ancestor. And yet
-it is only the living totem animal that is the object of cult and is
-believed to possess protective or destructive powers; compared with it,
-the ancestor idea fades into nebulous outlines, gaining a more definite
-significance only in so far as it is an expression of the tribal
-feeling which binds the members of the community to one another.
-
-A further important factor enters into this development. This is the
-cult ceremony connected with the _disposition of the dead_. In this
-case, the departed one to whom the ceremony is dedicated is still
-directly present to memory. He holds, as it were, an intermediate
-position between the realm of the living and that of the dead. The
-memorial ceremony held in his honour also restores to memory older
-generations of the departed, even though this may cause their specific
-features to fade into indefiniteness and to assume outlines whose
-vagueness renders them similar. The American totem poles furnish a
-concrete portrayal of such a series of ancestors in which individual
-characteristics are totally lacking. Nevertheless, even under very
-diverse circumstances, we find that the ceremony in honour of one who
-has just died comes to develop into a general festival of the dead,
-and thus to include more remote generations. The circle of those who
-are honoured is likewise extended; the cult comes to be one that
-commemorates not merely chieftains but all tribesmen. As the wider
-tribal bonds dissolve, the clan, and then later the family, pay their
-homage to the departed on the occasion of his funeral, and to earlier
-generations of the dead on specific days dedicated to such memories.
-This is the course of development in which the ancestor festivals of
-the Chinese and Japanese have their origin, as well as the cults of the
-Roman _dii manes_; it has introduced elements, at least, of ancestor
-worship into the beginnings of all religions, even though this cult but
-rarely attained the pre-eminent importance which it possessed among the
-cultural peoples of the Orient.
-
-But whatever may have been the character of this earlier strain of
-ancestor worship in religious development, the beginning of a true
-ancestor cult is closely bound up with the universalization due to
-its having become the cult of the hearth and the family. As it is the
-human ancestor who displaces the animal ancestor in this cult, so
-the transition by which the _family_ comes to be the central factor
-in social organization is an external indication of the dissolution
-of totemic culture and the dawning of a new era. In view of the
-predominant mythological and religious creations of this period, it
-might be called the age of heroes and gods. Ancestor worship itself is
-at the turning-point of the transition to the new era. In origin, it
-belongs to totemic culture: in its later development, it is one of the
-most significant indications of the dissolution of totemism, preparing
-the way for a new age in which it continues to hold an important
-place. At the same time, ancestor worship, no less than its rival,
-fetishism, constitutes but one factor among others in the development
-of mythological thought as a whole. In certain localities, as in the
-civilizations of eastern Asia, it may become sufficiently prominent
-to be one of the principal elements of religious cult. But even in
-such cases, ancestor worship is never able entirely to suppress the
-remaining forms of cult; still less can it be regarded as having given
-rise to the other fundamental phases of religious development--these
-rest on essentially different motives. Moreover, in connection with the
-relation of totemism to the ancestor worship which is rooted in the
-former and at the same time displaces it in one line of development, it
-is important to notice that in a certain sense the two follow opposite
-paths. As we have seen, the original totem--that is, the tribal
-totem--is the animal species in general; the last form of totem is the
-protective animal, which is an individual animal. Ancestor worship,
-on the other hand, begins with the adoration of humanly conceived
-benefactors and prominent tribesmen. It ends with a worship in which
-the individual ancestor gives way to the general idea of ancestor, in
-whom the family sees only a reflection of its own unity and an object
-in terms of which reverence is paid to past generations. The fact that
-ancestor cult centres about impersonal beings betrays a religious
-defect. Herein also is evidenced the continuing influence of the
-totemic age, for it was in this period that ancestor worship had its
-rise. The defect just mentioned was first overcome with the origin of
-_god-ideas_. One of the essential characteristics of gods is precisely
-the fact that they are _personal_ beings; each of them is a more or
-less sharply defined individuality. This of itself clearly indicates
-that ancestor worship is at most a relatively unimportant factor in the
-origin of gods.
-
-
-
-14. THE TOTEMIC CULTS.
-
-
-The primitive stage of human development, discussed in the preceding
-chapter, possessed no real cults in the strict sense of the term.
-Occasional suggestions or beginnings of cult acts were to be found,
-in the form of a number of magical customs. Such, particularly, were
-the efforts to expel sickness demons; also, the ceremonial dances
-designed to bring success to joint undertakings, as, for example, the
-above-mentioned dance of the Veddah about an arrow, whose purpose,
-perhaps, was to insure a successful hunt, if we would judge, among
-other things, from the fact that the dancers imitated the movements of
-animals.
-
-In contrast to these meagre magical usages, which, for the most part,
-served individual purposes, the totemic age developed a great variety
-of cults. Just as the totemic tribal organization is an impressive
-phenomenon when compared with the primitive horde, so also do we
-marvel at the rich development of cults with which we meet as we pass
-to the totemic age. These cults are associated not only with the most
-important events of human life but also with natural phenomena, though,
-of course, only in so far as the latter affect the interests of man,
-the weal or woe that is in store for the individual or for the tribal
-community. Generally speaking, therefore, these cults may be divided
-into two great classes. Though these two classes of cults are, of
-course, frequently merged and united--for the very reason that both
-spring from the same emotions of hope, of desire, and of fear--they
-are nevertheless clearly distinguishable by reference to the immediate
-purpose which the magic of the cult aims to serve. The first of these
-classes includes those cults which relate to the most significant
-events of human life; the second, those concerned with the natural
-phenomena most important to man.
-
-Human life furnishes motives for cult acts in its origin as in its
-decline, in birth and in death. Other motives are to be found in
-significant intervening events, such primarily as the entrance of the
-youth into manhood, though in the case of the maiden, ceremonies of
-this sort are very secondary or are entirely lacking. Of these most
-important events of life, that of birth is practically removed from
-present consideration. No ceremony or cult is connected with it. Not
-infrequently, however, the idea prevails that the child becomes capable
-of life only on condition that its parents endow it with life a second
-time, as it were, by an express act of will. Thus, many Polynesian
-tribes allow parents to put to death a new-born infant. Only after
-the child has lived several hours has it gained a right to existence
-and does the duty of rearing it devolve upon the parents. There is a
-survival of similar ideas in the older usages of cultural peoples,
-though they have not led to the widespread evils of infanticide as they
-have among many peoples of nature. But even among the early Germans,
-Romans, and Greeks, the life of a new-born child was secure only after
-the father had given recognition to it in a symbolical act--such, for
-example, as lifting it from the earth. On the other hand, the previous
-act of laying the child on the ground frequently came to be symbolical
-of the idea that it, as all living things, owes its existence primarily
-to mother earth. With this act of an express recognition of the child,
-moreover, there is also bound up the unconditional obedience which the
-child, even down to a late period, was held to owe to its parents.
-
-The fewer the cult acts connected with entrance upon life, the greater
-is the number that attend departure from it. Almost all cults of the
-dead, moreover, originate in the totemic age. Wherever traces of
-them appear at an earlier stage, one can hardly avoid the suspicion
-that these are due to the influences of neighbouring peoples. Now,
-the totemic cults of the dead are closely interrelated with the
-above-described usages relating to the disposition of the corpse.
-They make their appearance particularly when the original signs of
-fear and of flight from the demon of the dead begin to vanish, and
-when reverence comes into greater and greater prominence, as well
-as the impulse to provide for a future life of the dead--a life
-conceived somehow as a continuance of the present. The clansmen
-solemnly accompany the corpse to its burial; death lamentations assume
-specific ceremonial forms, for whose observance there is very commonly
-a special class of female mourners. The cries of these mourners, of
-course, still appear to express the emotion of fear in combination
-with that of grief. The main feature of the funeral ceremonies comes
-to be a _sacrifice to the dead_. Not only are the usual articles of
-utility placed in the grave--such, for example, as a man's weapons--but
-animals are slaughtered and buried with the corpse. Where the idea of
-rulership has gained particular prominence--as, for example, among the
-Soudan and Bantu peoples of Africa--slaves and women must also follow
-the deceased chieftain into the grave. Evidently these sacrifices are
-intended primarily for the deceased himself. They are designed to help
-him in his further life, though in part the aim is still doubtless that
-of preventing his return as a demon. In both cases, these usages are
-clearly connected with the increased importance attached to the psyche,
-for they first appear with the spread of the belief in a survival
-after death and in soul migration. These sacrifices are doubtless
-regarded partly as directly supplying the necessary means whereby the
-soul of the dead may carry on its further existence and partly as
-magical instruments that make it possible for the deceased to enjoy a
-continuance of life. Thus, these sacrifices already involve ideas of a
-beyond, though, generally speaking, the latter did not as yet receive
-further development.
-
-At this point, sacrifice to the dead undergoes further modifications,
-as a consequence of which there are also changes in the accompanying
-cult acts. The sacrifice of food dedicated to the use of the deceased
-and the bloody sacrifice designed to equip him with magical power,
-are no longer offered merely to the departed. As soon as god-ideas
-begin to emerge, the sacrifice is brought, in first instance, to
-these higher beings, who are implored to furnish protection to the
-deceased. As this latter motive gains the ascendancy, the slaughtered
-animals are no longer placed in the grave along with the deceased, but
-their blood is poured out upon it; of their flesh, moreover, only a
-part is thrown upon the grave as the portion of the dead, while the
-rest is consumed by the mourners. The feelings of reverence, thus
-expressed, issue, in the later development of these cults to the dead,
-in general ancestor worship. Not only the deceased himself and those
-who have assembled, but particularly the gods under whose protection
-the deceased is placed, receive a portion of the sacrifice. When this
-occurs, the offering, which had been devoted to the deceased, becomes
-sacrifice proper. The offering was given solely to the one who had
-died; at first, its purpose was to keep him in his grave, later,
-to afford him aid in his further life. Real sacrifice to the dead
-involves _three_ parties--the deceased person, the deity, and the
-survivors. The deceased gains new life from the blood and flesh of
-the sacrificial animal; the deity is subjected to a magical influence
-which is to incline him favourably toward the departed; those who
-bring the sacrifices participate in this favour, since they enter
-into a magical union both with the deceased and with the protecting
-deity. In part, these developments extend on beyond the totemic age;
-their beginnings, however, are already everywhere present. True, in
-this early sacrifice to the dead the attempt to exercise a magical
-influence upon the deity--later, as we shall see, the essential feature
-of the sacrificial idea--is still in the background. Nevertheless,
-this magical feature, which characterizes sacrifice at the height of
-its development, has already made its appearance. Because of it, the
-original sacrifice to the dead possesses a significance intermediate
-between the two distinct concepts of a gift which sacrifice has been
-held to embody. Though originally a gift to the deceased, an offering
-laid beside him, sacrifice became a means of protective magic for him
-and for the survivors. When the deity came to constitute a third member
-of this magical group, and as he gradually gained the dominant place,
-the idea of a gift again began to displace the purely magical idea.
-The gift, however, was now a gift to the deity. This was the final
-stage in the development of sacrifice and represents the basis of the
-ordinary rationalistic interpretation. Originally, however, sacrifice
-possessed a different significance. It was purely a magical act, as is
-shown by the further circumstance that it is precisely the sacrifice
-to the dead which was already practised at a time when there were as
-yet no gods but merely a belief in demons. Additional evidence may be
-found in the nature of the sacrificial gifts which are deposited in the
-graves, particularly where ancestor worship prevails--as, for example,
-in the realms of East Asiatic culture. In these regions, it is not the
-objects themselves with which the deceased is to be equipped for his
-future life that are buried, but miniature paper representations of
-them. These representations are really not symbols, as is generally
-held--or, at any rate, this is only a later and retrogressive form of
-the idea--but they are sensuously embodied desires originally regarded
-as means of magic. In this case also, we may detect the influence of
-soul-ideas, which lie at the basis of all beliefs of this sort. As the
-psyche of the dead is supposed to reincarnate itself in a new organism,
-so likewise are the object-souls incorporated in these representative
-miniatures to transform themselves, by means of the magical power
-attaching to their shape, into corresponding real objects. But in this
-instance again, the further modifications in the sacrifice to the dead
-lead on into deity cult. Hence it is not until our next chapter, when
-we discuss deity cults, that we will deal with the sacrificial idea in
-its total development.
-
-Connected with another life-event to which this age attaches particular
-importance is a further significant group of totemic cults. This
-consists in the celebration of the adolescence of youths in the
-so-called _initiation ceremonies_. In a period such as this, when
-intertribal struggles are a matter of increasing concern, the reception
-of a youth into the association of men, into the community of the hunt
-and of war, represents the outstanding event of his life. Beginnings of
-such celebrations were transmitted by the primitive age to the totemic
-era, but it is only at this later period that they are developed into
-great cult festivals. It is these festivals, particularly, which
-everywhere recur in essentially the same form among all the tribes
-of Australia. They are great folk festivals, frequently assembling
-the clans of friendly tribes. Their celebration consists of dances
-and songs, though primarily of ceremonies centring about the youths
-who are reaching the age of maturity. For a considerable period these
-youths have been prepared for the festival by the older men. They have
-been subjected to a strict asceticism for weeks beforehand; meanwhile
-they have also been trained in the use of weapons, and instructed in
-certain matters of which the young are kept in ignorance. The actual
-celebration, which always occurs at night, includes ceremonies which,
-in part, involve extreme pain to the novices. The youths are obliged
-to stand very close to a fire kindled in the centre of the ceremonial
-ground. The older men, with painted faces, then execute dances, in
-which the women are forbidden to participate. An important feature of
-these dances is the imitation of totem animals. This also provides
-an opportunity for humorous episodes. During these pranks, however,
-the youths are compelled to remain serious. Moreover, they must give
-evidence of fortitude by fearlessly leaping over the fire. In many
-of these regions, there is a further ceremony, which is extremely
-peculiar and of uncertain significance. This consists in the knocking
-out of teeth. Generally the operation is performed by the medicine-man
-or, as he ought perhaps to be called in this capacity, the priest.
-The latter presses the teeth of his own lower jaw against one of the
-incisors of the upper jaw of the novice, thus loosening the tooth so
-that it may easily be knocked out with a stone hammer. This is the most
-primitive form of tooth deformation, a practice common to numerous
-peoples of nature as a means of beautification. That the original
-purpose was not cosmetic is clear. Whatever other end it was intended
-to serve, however, is uncertain, though it was doubtless connected
-with cult. Perhaps its meaning is suggested in the fact that, before
-marriage, girls also were frequently deprived of a front tooth, and
-that the idea prevailed, possibly in connection with this custom, that
-the exchange of breath, and thus the breath-soul, may play a part in
-the act of procreation. It is not unreasonable to suppose that these
-ideas may represent the origin of the kiss. At any rate, as Preusz has
-pointed out, ancient Mexican pictures represent two deities engaged,
-apparently, in the act of kissing while (perhaps in reminiscence
-also of the blood-soul) red smoke passes from the mouth of the one
-to that of the other. Moreover, it may well be that this exchange of
-souls in the kiss has its analogue in many regions, particularly in
-Melanesia, in the exchange of breath through the nose--the so-called
-nose-greeting which might therefore better be called the nose-kiss.
-That this exchange is mediated through the nose may be due to the fact
-that among many of these tribes kissing with the lips is impossible
-because of mouth-rings, lip-blocks, and other deformations, doubtless
-originally intended as means of magic. Similar ideas concerning the
-mouth and the nose, moreover, and their relation to the psyche, are
-suggested even by the Biblical history of the Creation, according to
-which God rouses Adam to life by breathing a soul into him through his
-nose. Through the mouth, man breathes out his soul; through the nose,
-he received it.
-
-Though the festival of initiation into manhood was once associated
-with magical acts of cult, as the above ceremony seems to show, the
-meaning of this magic has for the most part been lost to the memory
-of the natives. For this reason they generally regard the ceremonies,
-including that of striking out the teeth, as a means of testing the
-fortitude of the young men. This was doubtless a secondary motive
-even at a very early time, and when the magical significance dropped
-out, it remained as the sole purpose. Nevertheless, the character of
-these alleged tests is much too peculiar to be intelligible on the
-hypothesis that they were originally intended merely to arouse fear or
-pain. And so, in view of the widely prevalent use of fire as a means
-of lustration, we may be allowed to regard also the fire-test, which
-occupies a central place in these cult forms, as having originally been
-a means of magical purification.
-
-The second class of ceremonial festivals and cults, as above remarked,
-is associated with certain objective natural phenomena which exercise a
-decisive influence upon human life. The natural phenomena most likely
-to originate a cult, because representing the most important objects
-of desire and fear, are those connected with the need for food, with
-the growth of plants, and with the increase of animals, particularly
-the animals of the chase. For this reason _vegetation cults_ date back
-to the very beginnings of the totemic period. Very probably they
-originated in the desire for plant food. Under relatively primitive
-conditions there was seldom a lack of game, though there was probably
-a scarcity of the vegetables necessary to supplement the food derived
-from animals. For plants frequently suffer from unfavourable weather,
-whether it be from the heat of the sun and from drought, as in tropical
-and sub-tropical regions, or from deluging rains, as in the temperate
-zones. Our interpretation of vegetation cults is supported particularly
-by the conditions prevailing in the original home of totemism,
-Australia. These cults here occur chiefly in the northern districts,
-into which there were early Melanesian immigrations; towards the south,
-they have gained but a relatively small foothold. The more northerly
-regions, as we have seen, are the very ones in which plant totems also
-are numerous, whereas they are lacking in the south. The cults of which
-we have been speaking are called _Intichiuma ceremonies_--an expression
-of Australian derivation. These ceremonies, moreover, involve the
-magical use of churingas, the Australian fetishes.
-
-The character of these vegetation festivals is always very much the
-same. They include dances, in which, in essential distinction from
-those of the initiation ceremonies, women are generally allowed to
-participate; their central feature consists of specific magical acts
-designed to effect an increase of the food supply. In Australia,
-these acts, in part, take the form of ceremonies in which pieces of
-artificial animals are strewn about. We speak of them as artificial, of
-course, only from our own standpoint; to the Australian the material
-that is scattered represents an actual living being. Thus, for example,
-a heap of sand is moulded into the form of a large lizard, and, of
-this, various parts are thrown into the air by those who participate in
-the festival. The animal germs thus scattered are supposed to effect
-an increase in the animals of the lizard totem. These vegetation
-festivals, therefore, are also totem festivals, and their celebration
-has the secondary significance of a cult dedicated to the totem. The
-celebration connected with a fish totem is similar to the above,
-though somewhat more complicated. A member of the clan, whose arms or
-other parts of the body have been bored through with bone daggers,
-descends into the water and allows his blood to mingle with it. The
-totem germs that are to bring about an increase in fish are supposed to
-emanate from the blood.
-
-In the case of plant totems, the cults are of a simpler nature. The
-plants themselves, or sometimes their seeds, which, moreover, also
-serve directly as food, are strewn to the winds. The grass-seed totem,
-for example, is particularly common in Australia. The seeds of the
-Australian grasses are gathered in large quantities and constitute
-an important part of the vegetable food. Thrown into the air, they
-are supposed to bring about an increased supply of these grasses.
-Externally regarded, this magical ceremony, primitive as it is,
-completely represents an act of sowing. It would be incorrect, however,
-as yet to speak of it as such, in the sense of the later tiller of the
-soil; the significance of the ceremony is purely magical. An age which
-merely gathers wild seeds and fruits does not prepare the soil in the
-way that sowing presupposes. Nevertheless, the magical cult involves
-an act which later forms an important part of agricultural tasks.
-Indeed, it is not at all improbable that these magical ceremonies,
-which in any event already involve the recognition that the strewing
-of seed conditions the increase of plants, have elsewhere constituted
-a preparatory step to the development of agriculture. In general it
-may be said that the ceremony probably originated in connection with
-plant totems, where the idea of such an increase is very especially
-apt to suggest itself; doubtless it was only later connected, through
-a process of external association, with animal totems. In harmony with
-such a view is the fact that Intichiuma festivals are chiefly prevalent
-in the regions of plant totemism.
-
-The vegetation cults which preceded the rise of agriculture were
-finally superseded by _true cults of the soil_. The latter presuppose
-the preparation of the soil by the efforts of man. This is clear from
-the fact that they occur more regularly, and at definite seasons of
-the year; moreover, they are of a more complex character, serving in
-part a number of other purposes. Typical of the transition are the
-vegetation festivals of the natives of Central America. These festivals
-are unique in that they embody elements of celestial mythology; thus
-they constitute important transitional stages between the demon cults
-of the totemic era and deity cults. The relation which the seeds are
-supposed to bear to the sprouts of the various grains is now no longer
-merely of a magical nature. The hoe-culture, to which the American
-Indian has attained, has taught him the dependence of the growth of
-plants upon the act of sowing. But here also there can be no cult
-until there is community labour. The original hoe-culture carried on
-by the individual about his hut no more tends to originate a cult than
-does the erection of the hut, the weaving of baskets, or the other
-tasks set by the needs of daily life. Individuals, however, frequently
-till the soil even prior to the rise of systematic agriculture, as
-occurs in certain regions of Melanesia, among the prairie peoples of
-North America, and elsewhere. Besides leading to more advanced ideas
-concerning the processes of germination and growth, these beginnings
-of agriculture, which still form part of the household duties of
-individuals, serve to engender what proves to be a permanent and basal
-factor in all further development--namely, _provision for the future_.
-However primitive may be the hoe-culture which the individual carries
-on about his hut, it is not concerned exclusively with the immediate
-present, as is the mere gathering of food, but it aims to satisfy a
-future need. True, even in this case, the beginnings may be traced back
-to the preceding age. Even such ceremonies as the Intichiuma festivals,
-in which the totems are strewn about in order magically to influence
-their growth and increase, are already thoroughly inspired by a regard
-for the future. Perhaps all human action concerned with the distant
-future was at first magical in aim.
-
-The establishment of a cult, however, is due not merely to the
-foresight which provides for a future harvest by the tilling of the
-soil; it is conditioned also by a second factor--namely, _community
-labour_. Just as entrance into manhood gives rise to initiation
-cults only when it becomes of tribal importance, precisely so is the
-development of cults of the soil dependent upon the association of
-members of a tribe or a mark in common labour. Moreover, initiation
-into manhood early came to be of common concern because of the
-community life of age-associates and of the need for military training
-created by tribal warfare; the same is true, though at a later stage
-and, of course, for essentially different reasons, of the tilling of
-the soil. The most important factor in the latter case is the fact that
-because the natural conditions are common to all, all are obliged to
-select the same time both for the sowing and later for the harvest.
-This is of little moment so long as the population is sparse and the
-property of one individual is separated from that of the others by
-wide stretches of uncultivated land. The more closely the members of
-the mark live together, however, the more do they share in common
-labour. Whenever a migrating tribe takes possession of a new territory,
-moreover, there is a further decisive consideration, namely, the fact
-that at the outset the soil is common property. In this case, not
-merely the natural conditions, but also the very ground on which the
-work of the field is performed, is identical for all the members of a
-mark. Added to this objective factor there more and more comes to be
-one of a subjective nature. In common labour, the individual determines
-his activities by reference to a common end; moreover, he regulates
-these activities, as to rhythm, tempo, and the accompanying expressive
-movements, so as to conform to the group in which he finds himself.
-Since, moreover, the activity of sowing and the subsequent growth of
-the crop preserve the magical character acquired in an earlier period,
-the work itself comes to be a cult activity. Just as initiation rites
-are not merely a declaration of manhood but a cult, designed magically
-to equip the novice with manly power and fortitude, so the tilling of
-the soil becomes a cult act through whose inherent magical power the
-prosperity of the crop is supposed to be secured. There are two factors
-which are of prime importance for the beginning of agricultural cults,
-and which give to their further development its peculiar stamp. In
-the first place, the labour whose performance in common engenders the
-cults of the soil is always connected with _hoe-culture_, the initial
-stage of agriculture. It is only because they work with the hoe that
-the members of the mark come into such close relations that they easily
-fuse into a cult community. When the plough, which is drawn by an
-animal, comes into use, the individuals are again separated. For the
-field which is tilled is larger, and, furthermore, the activity of the
-ploughman is confined to the guidance of his animals and implements,
-so that he personally is no longer directly concerned with the soil as
-in the case of hoe-culture. Moreover, since hoe-culture demands a very
-much greater expenditure of human energy, it arouses stronger emotions.
-The plough trains to reflection and brooding; the hoe stirs violent
-emotions. Furthermore, it is only when hoe-culture becomes common
-labour on a common field that the sexes are brought together. The
-early hoe-culture carried on about the hut of the individual generally
-devolves upon the woman alone, who thus merely continues the duty of
-food-getting which rested with her, as the gatherer of food, under
-still more primitive economic conditions. With the appearance of more
-intensive hoe-culture the labour is divided. Man cuts up and loosens
-the soil with his hoe; woman follows after, strewing the seed between
-the clods. With the invention of the plough, agriculture finally
-becomes the exclusive concern of man. The furrowing and loosening of
-the soil is now done by means of an implement, and man, freed from this
-labour, assumes the duty of strewing the seed.
-
-This twofold community of labour, that on the part of the holders of
-common property and that of the two sexes, undoubtedly underlies the
-peculiar character which the cults of the soil continue to preserve
-long after the period of their origin. On the one hand, the work of the
-field itself assumes the character of a cult act; combined with it, on
-the other hand, there come to be additional ceremonies. That which
-brings the men and women together and converts the labour into a cult
-act is primarily the dance. The fertilization and growth of plants are
-regarded as processes resembling the procreation of man. When the cult
-members give themselves up to ecstatic and orgiastic dances, therefore,
-they believe that they are magically influencing the sprouting and
-growth of the seeds. According to their belief, sprouting and growth
-are due to the demons of the soil. These demons the orgiastic cult
-arouses to heightened activity, just as the labourers and dancers
-mutually excite one another to increased efforts. In this ecstasy of
-the cult, man feels himself one with external nature. His own activity
-and the processes of nature become for him one and the same magical
-potency. In addition to the terrestrial demons of growth, there are the
-celestial demons, who send fructifying rains from the clouds to the
-soil. Particularly in regions such as New Mexico and Arizona, where a
-successful harvest depends in large measure upon the alternation of
-rains with the withering heat of the sun, these vegetation festivals
-are combined with elements of celestial cults. The latter, of course,
-are also essentially demon cults, yet they everywhere exhibit distinct
-traces of a transition into deity cults. Particularly typical are the
-cults of the Zuni and Hopi, described in detail by various American
-scholars. The direction of these cult festivals is vested in a body
-of rain-priests, in conjunction with other associations of priests,
-named for the most part after animals, and with secret societies. In
-the vegetation ceremonies of the Hopi, the members of the rain-group,
-naked and with faces masked to represent clouds, parade through a
-neighbouring village and thence to the festival place. In their
-procession through the village, the women throw water over them from
-the windows of the houses. This is a magical ceremony intended to
-secure the blessings of rain upon the crops. The investigations of W.
-Mannhardt concerning the field cults of ancient and more recent times
-have shown that survivals of such conceptions are still present in the
-sowing and harvest usages of modern Europe. Mannhardt's collection of
-customs deals particularly with East Prussia and Lithuania. In these
-localities it is customary for the maid-servants to return from the
-harvest earlier than the men, and to drench the latter with water as
-they enter the house. Though this custom has become a mere form of
-play, it nevertheless still vividly recalls the very serious magical
-ceremonies of earlier vegetation cults. But over and above this change
-from the serious to the playful, of which there are beginnings even in
-the festival celebrations of early cultural peoples, there is still
-another important difference between the earliest vegetation cults and
-their later recrudescences. The former are connected particularly with
-_sowing_, the latter primarily with the _harvest_. This again reflects
-the difference between hoe-culture and plough-culture. Hoe-culture
-unites the members of the mark in the activity of sowing, whereas
-labour with the plough separates them and imposes the work exclusively
-on the men. Harvesting the grain, on the other hand, long continues
-to remain a task in which individuals work in groups, women and men
-together. Moreover, as the magical beliefs associated with the activity
-of sowing gradually disappear, their place is taken by joy over the
-assured harvest. This also factors towards changing the time of the
-main festival from the beginning to the end of the season.
-
-Since both earth and heaven must co-operate if the sowing is to
-be propitious and the harvest bountiful, vegetation festivals are
-intermediate between demon cults and celestial cults. In respect
-to origin, they belong to the former; in the degree in which more
-adequate conceptions of nature are attained, they give rise to the
-latter. In many cases, moreover, elements of ancestor cult still
-exercise an influence towards bringing about this transition. The
-cloud that bestows rain and blessing is regarded as dependent upon
-a controlling will. Back of the clouds, therefore, according to the
-ideas of the Zuni and other Pueblo tribes, dwell the ancestors. The
-prayer of the priests to the clouds is also a prayer to the ancestors
-for protection and aid. The procession of the rain-priesthood through
-the village is a representation of the ancestors who are hidden
-behind the mask of clouds, and is supposed to exercise a magical
-influence. These cult festivals also include invocations to the sun,
-whose assistance is likewise necessary to the prosperity of the crop.
-Thus, in the ceremonial customs of the Navajos, who occupy the same
-territory, the yellow sand that covers the festival place represents
-the coloured expanse of the rainbow, the sun, and the moon. All the
-heavenly forces are to co-operate in bringing about the ripening of
-the harvest. In this wise it is possible to trace an advance, stage
-by stage, from the cults of terrestrial demons, who dwell within the
-growing grain itself, to celestial cults. The fact that the aid of
-the heavens is indispensable draws the attention upwards. If, now,
-there are other causes such as give rise to the idea of a celestial
-migration of the souls of departed ancestors, the cloud demons become
-merged with ancestor spirits, and there are combined with them the
-supra-terrestrial powers that are conceived as inherent in the other
-celestial phenomena.
-
-It is due to this synthesis of vegetation cults with celestial cults
-that these festivals, which are the most highly developed of any in the
-totemic age, continue to become more and more complex. They gradually
-incorporate other cults in so far as these are not associated with
-specific, undeferable circumstances, as are the death cults. Among the
-Zuni and Navajos, the most important ceremony thus incorporated into
-these festivals is the initiation of youths into manhood and their
-subsequent reception into the community of men. There are analogous
-ceremonies for the women. In this complex of cult elements, the
-emphasis more and more falls on the celestial phenomena, of which the
-more important force themselves upon the observation and therefore
-determine the time at which these festivals are held. Instead of at
-seedtime and harvest, which vary somewhat with weather conditions,
-the two main festivals are held at fixed dates corresponding to the
-summer and winter solstices. Thus, the cults become independent of
-variable circumstances. All the more are they able to assimilate
-other cults. Among the Zuni, for example, there is a ceremony which,
-though analogous to the declaration of manhood, is not held at the
-time when the youths reach manhood or the maidens arrive at the age
-of puberty, but occurs much earlier, and signifies reception into the
-cult community. This first consecration, which might be compared to
-our baptism, does not take place immediately after birth, but when the
-child is four or five years of age. Following upon this consecration,
-in the course of the same festival, comes the celebration of the
-adulthood of fully matured youths and maidens, set for the fourteenth
-or fifteenth year of life. In this ceremony the youths and maidens are
-beaten with consecrated rods. The present generation, which has no
-knowledge concerning the origin of this practice, generally regards
-these blows as a test of hardihood and courage. But the fact that
-specially consecrated rods are used by the priests shows unmistakably
-that their original purpose was to exercise a magical influence upon
-those who were being initiated. Indeed, the fact that many adults crowd
-in to receive some of the blows, in the belief that these possess
-a protective influence, proves that the original meaning of the
-ceremony has maintained itself to a certain extent even down to the
-present. In addition to these features of the cult-celebration, which
-are connected in general with the tribal or mark community as such,
-there are other ceremonies that are designed for the satisfaction of
-the wants of individuals. Sick persons drag themselves painfully to
-the festival, or are brought to it by their relatives, in search of
-healing. In America, the desire for magical healing has very commonly
-given rise to so-called sweat-lodges, which are located near the
-festival places. These lodges serve a twofold purpose. The primary aim
-of the sweat cure is to expel sickness demons. But healthy persons also
-subject themselves to the treatment. In this case the sole purpose of
-the sweating is obviously that of lustration. Just as we ourselves
-occasionally experience relief from the flow of perspiration, so also
-may the one who has passed through the ceremony of the sweat-lodge feel
-himself reborn, as it were. This would tend to strengthen the naturally
-suggested association between this ceremony and lustration by water.
-The ceremony, therefore, serves the same purpose as the other forms
-of lustration. The individual wishes either to purify himself from a
-guilt which he has incurred, or, if there is no particular element of
-guilt, to protect himself against future impurities. The custom thus
-acquires the significance of a sanctification ceremony, similar to
-baptism or to the bath of the Brahman. Because of the combination of
-these various cult motives and cult forms, the cult association which
-unites in the performance of the vegetation festivals comes to be the
-representative of the cult, as well as of the belief, of the tribal
-community in general. This likewise prepares the way for the transition
-from totemic to deity cults, as is indicated, among other things, by
-the sacrificial activities of these cult festivals. Sacrifice itself,
-as has already been mentioned, probably originated as sacrifice to the
-dead. Its further development occurs primarily in connection with the
-higher forms of vegetation cults. The Zuni and Navajos erect altars for
-their festivals. These they adorn with gaily coloured cloths and with
-the gorgeous plumage of birds. On them they place the plants and grains
-which the cult is designed to prosper. This is the typical form of the
-vegetable sacrifice as it passes on from these early practices into all
-higher cults. The sacrifice consists in offering the particular plants
-and grains whose increase is desired. At the outset, its character is
-exclusively magical; it is not a gift to the deity. Just as rain-magic
-is supposed to result from drenching the rain-association with water,
-so this offering of grains is held to have a magic effect upon the
-prosperity of the same sorts of grains. There is no indication or
-suggestion that the sacrifice represents an offering to the gods. This
-idea arises only later, when the magical sacrifice of grains, as well
-as that of animals, is connected with a further conception whose origin
-is apparently also to be found in sacrifice to the dead. The dead
-are presented with gifts, which they carry along into a world beyond.
-Similarly, the magical sacrifice connected with vegetation festivals
-and their associated cults more and more ceases to be regarded as
-purely magical in nature and comes to be an offering to the deity whose
-favour is thereby sought.
-
-Coincident with these changes in sacrificial usages, the cult
-community which develops in the course of the transitional stages
-of cult--the best representatives are the semi-cultural peoples of
-America--undergoes a more thorough organization. Separate associations
-are formed within the wider circle of cult membership. These severally
-assume the various functions involved in the cult; as a rule, they
-are under the guidance of priests. Even apart from their connection
-with these cult festivals, the priests serve as magic-priests and
-magic-doctors, and it is they who preserve the traditions of the
-general cult ceremonies as well as of the means requisite on the part
-of the individual for the exercise of this twofold profession. This
-represents the typical figure of the _medicine-man_. He is to be found
-even in primitive culture, but his function more and more changes
-from that of the ordinary magician into that of the priest. As such,
-he attains to a position of authority that is publicly acknowledged
-and protected. Associated with him is a restricted group of those
-cult members who are most familiar with the secrets of the cult, and
-are his immediate assistants in the festal ceremonies. It is these
-individuals that compose the _secret societies_. These societies
-occur even among the tribes of the northern parts of America, and
-have their analogues particularly on the semi-cultural level which
-forms the threshold of the totemic age. Presumably they derive from
-the more primitive institution of men's clubs, within which the male
-members of a clan are united into age-groups. Membership in secret
-societies also continues to be limited to men, more especially to
-such as have reached a mature age. As tribal organization developed,
-and particularly as family bonds became firmer, age associations were
-dissolved. The association which originally included all men gave way
-to more restricted societies. Besides this numerical limitation, there
-was naturally also a qualitative restriction. In the first place, those
-who thus deliberately segregated themselves from the total body were
-the privileged members of the tribal community, or at least such as
-laid claim to special prerogatives; these associations, furthermore,
-were formed for certain more specialized purposes connected with the
-particular needs of their members. The first of these considerations
-accounts for the respect, occasionally mingled with fear or reverence,
-which was accorded to these societies, a respect which was heightened
-by the secrecy in which they shrouded themselves. The fact that
-certain customs and traditions were surrounded with secrecy caused
-every such association to be organized into various ranks, graded
-according to the extent with which the individuals were familiar with
-the secret doctrines. This type of organization occurs as early as
-the associations of medicine-men among the Africans and the American
-Indians; later, it is to be found in connection with the Eleusynian
-and Orphic mysteries; it is represented also by the Christian and
-Buddhistic orders, and by their various secular counterparts, such as
-the Rosicrucians and the Freemasons. Not infrequently these societies,
-in contradiction to their secrecy, have special emblems indicative of
-membership and of rank. Among the American Indians, this purpose is
-generally served by special drawings on the body; in other places, by
-specific tattooings as well as by the wearing of distinctive dress.
-The second restriction of membership on the part of the secret society
-is connected with the limited purpose which the society serves. The
-men's club includes all the interests of the clan or tribal community;
-the secret society is held together by a specific aim or by a limited
-circle of related tasks. Here also it is universally true that these
-tasks are connected with _cult_, and are thus of a religious nature.
-Even the Greek phratries underwent a change of purpose analogous to
-that which occurred in the transition from the age-group to the secret
-society, for, after losing their earlier political significance, they
-continued to exist as cultural associations.
-
-The men's group belongs exclusively to the totemic age. Secret
-societies, however, are organizations which, together with the cults
-that they maintain, belong to a stage transitional between totemic and
-deity cults. The emblems worn by the cult members are for the most part
-totemic; totemic also are the cult usages, and likewise, particularly
-among the American Indians, the name which the group adopts. The
-feathers of birds and the hides of other totem animals--the same as
-those which also adorn the festival altars--constitute a chief part of
-the dress. In addition to the general tribal festival in which they
-co-operate, these societies also maintain their special cults. It is
-particularly in these latter cults that ancient totemic survivals are
-in evidence. A remarkable example of such a totem group is the snake
-society of the Hopi Indians, who dwell, as do the Zuni and Navajos,
-in the regions of New Mexico. The totem animal of this society is
-the rattlesnake. In the snake festival, a procession is formed in
-which every member participates; each carries a rattlesnake in his
-mouth, holding it in his teeth directly back of its head. It is firmly
-believed that no snake will kill a member of the society which holds
-it sacred. Of course, as observers of the festival have noticed, an
-ingenious expedient is employed to avert the danger. Each snake-bearer
-is followed by an associate who diverts the attention of the snake by
-continually tickling its tail with a small stick. If a snake-bearer is
-bitten, as rarely occurs, his companion always sucks out the wound,
-by which act, as is well known, the snake-bite is rendered relatively
-innocuous.
-
-
-
-15. THE ART OF THE TOTEMIC AGE.
-
-
-The most prominent of the artistic activities of the totemic age
-is _formative art_. In this field, the lowest stages of totemic
-development show little advance beyond the achievements of primitive
-man. True, even Australia possesses cave drawings which, perhaps have
-some sort of cult significance. As yet, however, we have not succeeded
-in interpreting these drawings. With this exception, the formative art
-of the totemic period is limited to carvings upon weapons or other
-implements--obviously thought, just as in primitive times, to possess
-magical potencies--and to the painting of the face on the occasion of
-cult festivals.
-
-In the regions of Oceania, particularly the Polynesian Islands, we find
-a far richer development of that form of pictorial art which aims at
-the adornment of the body, or, as we ought rather to say with reference
-to the beginnings of this artistic practice, at the exercise on the
-part of the body of a magical influence upon external things. Polynesia
-is the chief centre of _artistic tattooing_. Throughout these regions
-this practice has universally taken the form of prick tattooing. By
-means of separate, close-lying prick points filled with colour, various
-symmetrical designs are formed. This tattooing is the only art whose
-highest perfection is reached at the beginning of culture. As soon as
-clothing appears, the decoration of the body itself gives way to that
-of dress. On particular occasions, as, for example, in connection with
-certain cult practices of the American Indians, custom may continue
-to demand entire nakedness. Under these circumstances, there is a
-sort of retrogressive development in which the painting necessitated
-by the festivals takes the place of tattooing. This occurs even among
-the Australians. Moreover, even after clothing has appeared, it long
-remains a favourite custom to tattoo certain exposed parts of the skin,
-particularly the face and the arms and hands. Even to-day, indeed, the
-arms are sometimes tattooed. The fact that tattooing is now practised
-almost exclusively by criminals and prostitutes, and, occasionally,
-by sailors, finds its explanation in a circumstance which was also of
-influence at the time when tattooing was in its first flower, namely,
-in the interruption of occupational activity by long periods of leisure.
-
-There is an additional factor which obviously favours the development
-of the art of tattooing, particularly in the territory of the
-Polynesian Islands. I refer to the combination of totemism with
-celestial mythology, which is peculiar to these peoples, and to
-the consequent recedence of totemism. Particularly illuminative as
-regards this point is the tattooing of the Maoris. The mythology of
-this people gives an important place to the sun, and their bodily
-decorations frequently include pictures of this celestial body, in
-the form of spiral ornamentations. Some two years ago travelling
-investigators brought back copies of the tattooing of other islanders,
-particularly those of the Marquesas group. These tattoo-patterns
-contain many significant elements of a celestial mythology; those
-of to-day, however, in so far as the custom has not been entirely
-effaced by the Europeans, consist almost entirely of simple geometrical
-ornamentations. The tattooings of early times frequently included
-also representations of animals. Plants were less common, as might
-be expected from the fact that it was only later that they acquired
-importance for totemic cults. At the same time, it is evident that a
-sort of reversal took place as regards the pictorial representation of
-objects. This is even more striking in the tattooing of the American
-Indians, a tattooing restricted to certain parts of the body. In the
-preceding chapter the fact has already been noted that, among the
-primitive peoples of the pretotemic age, as, for example, the Semangs
-and Senoi of Malacca, the multiplication of simple parallel lines,
-triangles, arcs, etc., gives rise to plant-like and animal-like forms.
-Doubtless the primitive artist himself discovers such figures in his
-drawings and then sometimes consciously sets about to imitate more
-closely the actual forms of the natural objects. At the stage of
-development now under discussion, we find, conversely, that animal
-forms, particularly, are retranslated into geometrical objects in
-that they become, as we would to-day express it, more and more
-conventionalized. Since only the simplest outlines of the objects
-are retained, it may eventually become a matter of doubt whether
-these really are schematic representations of natural objects, and
-whether they are not, even from the very beginning, geometrical
-ornamentations. Nevertheless the fact that there are continuous
-transitions from the developed animal form to the geometrical ornament,
-as occurs particularly in America, is incontrovertible proof that such
-a conventionalization took place, though in many cases, doubtless,
-very slowly. This process of conventionalization, however, may be more
-clearly traced in connection with a different art, one that is related
-to tattooing but whose development is not limited, as is that of the
-latter, and destined from the very outset to become obsolete. I refer
-to _ceramics_, the art of decorating the vessels which were at first
-intended for the preservation, and later for the preparation, of food.
-
-Even though the art of making pottery is not to be found in primitive
-culture proper, it nevertheless dates back to a very early age. It is
-not impossible that this age coincides approximately with the beginning
-of the totemic period. At any rate, it was totemic cult which, from
-earliest times on, furnished the motives for the decoration or--as is
-here also doubtless generally true of the early beginnings--for the
-magical protection of the vessels, or for the imparting of magical
-potencies to their contents. Doubtless the clay vessel was originally
-modelled partly after the natural objects that were used for storing
-food, and partly after the woven basket. The latter, in turn, may, in
-its beginnings, have been copied from the bird's nest. When it was
-discovered, probably accidentally, that clay is hardened by fire, the
-clay vessel came to be used not merely for the preservation of food
-but also for its preparation by means of fire. Or, perhaps it would
-be truer to say that the attempt to accomplish this latter purpose
-with the unhardened clay vessel led to the art of baking clay. Now,
-even before the art of making pottery was known, implements, weapons,
-women's combs, and even the body itself were marked with simple and
-regular linear drawings to which a magical significance was attached.
-These geometrical forms, which arose semi-accidentally, were, even from
-very early times, apperceived as the outlines of animal or plant forms,
-and it was under the influence of these ideas that they attained a
-further development. Precisely the same process was repeated in the
-case of ceramics, only, as it were, upon a broader scale, challenging a
-richer play of imagination. It is precisely here, however, particularly
-in the ceramics of the American Indians, that we can trace the
-ascending and the descending developments of primitive linear drawings,
-first into completely developed animal designs with meagre suggestions
-of attempts at plant ornamentation, and then regressively, through a
-continued conventionalization, into purely geometrical figures. At the
-same time, it was ceramics, especially, that developed a combination
-of these two designs, the systematic arrangement of which marks
-the perfection of this art. Thus arose representations of natural
-objects framed in by geometrical ornamentations. In this respect
-also, tattooing furnished a preparation, even though imperfectly, for
-ceramics. In inner significance, moreover, the latter was a direct
-outgrowth of the former. By tattooing, man originally guarded his own
-person with protective magic; in ceramics, this magic was brought into
-connection with man's utensils, with the food necessary for his life,
-and with its preparation. In ceramics, therefore, just as in tattooing,
-the animals represented were at first primarily _totem animals_. Among
-them we find particularly snakes, fish, and birds, and, in America, the
-alligator. Especially characteristic of the totemic age is the fact
-that the decorations scarcely ever include the representation of the
-_human figure_. It is by this mark that the art products, even of the
-earliest age of Greece, may be distinguished at first glance from those
-of totemic culture. In the former case, the human figure is introduced,
-either along with that of the animal or even alone; in the latter case,
-only animal representations occur. Strange to say, it is in only _one_
-respect that the ceramics, more particularly of the American Indians,
-copy man--the vessel as a whole represents a head or a skull. Doubtless
-this is connected with the obnoxious custom of head-hunting. Just as
-the Indian adorns the roof of his hut with the heads of his conquered
-foes, so he perpetuates the memory of his feats of war in his ceramic
-objects. No portrayal of activities in which human beings participate,
-is to be found in the totemic age.
-
-Connected with this, no doubt, is the lack of any real _sculpture_,
-with the exception of crude idols representing animal or human forms.
-These idols, on the whole, are of the nature of fetishes, and as such
-may, of course, be regarded as the precursors of the divine images of
-a later period. As there is no sculpture, so also is there, strictly
-speaking, no _architecture_. In this respect, again, there is a wide
-difference between this age and the succeeding one. In its higher
-forms, architecture presupposes gods who are worshipped in a temple.
-In the totemic period, however, there are no temples. True, the
-Australian preserves his magic wands and pieces of wood, the churingas,
-in caves or huts, but the latter differ in no wise from other huts. In
-the totemic age, therefore, man alone has a dwelling-place. Of such
-structures there are, in general, _two_ types, the _conical_ and the
-_spherical_. The conical hut apparently had its origin in the tent.
-The rounded or beehive hut, as it has been called in Africa, may
-originally have been copied from a natural cave built in the sand. The
-two forms, moreover, are not always mutually exclusive. In winter,
-for example, the Esquimo of Behring Strait lives in a round hut made
-of snow; in summer, he pitches a tent. In Melanesia, Polynesia, and
-other regions, the erection of dwelling-places on the seashore or
-on the shores of large rivers led to the _pole-hut_, a modification
-which came to resemble the houses of later times. This hut, which is
-generally occupied jointly by several families, is erected on poles
-that are firmly driven into the ground and reach far up into the air.
-Such a pole-hut, even at this early age, develops the typical form
-of a commodious dwelling. One of the factors here operative is the
-institution of men's clubs, which is prevalent in these regions: the
-necessity that many individuals live together leads to the erection
-of buildings of considerable size. In this connection, we note a
-characteristic difference between the beginnings of architectonic
-art and that of the other arts. The latter, whether in the case of
-tattooing, ceramics, or the fetishistic precursors of sculpture,
-always originate in mythological and, primarily, in magical motives;
-the sole impetus to architecture is furnished by the immediate needs
-of practical life. Thus, then, it is not to religious impulses but to
-the social conditions which require that many individuals shall live
-together, that we must trace a more perfected technique of building
-than that of primitive times.
-
-Much more nearly parallel to the development of the other forms of
-art is that of the _musical arts_, meaning by this all those arts
-which consist in the direct activity of man himself. The musical
-arts include the dance, poetry, and music, as well as the various
-combinations into which these enter with one another. Since it is
-the third of these arts, music, that manifests a particular tendency
-to combine with and to supplement the other two, all three may be
-comprehended under its name. This will also serve to suggest the fact
-that, just as the formative arts are closely related in that they give
-objective embodiment to the creations of the imagination, so also are
-the musical arts allied by virtue of their reliance on subjective
-expression. Of all these various arts, the _dance_ preserves the
-closest connection with the more primitive age. In the cult dance of
-the totemic period, however, the dance receives an extraordinarily
-rich development, reaching a stage of perfection comparable to that
-to which formative art attains in the external adornment of the
-body--that is, in tattooing. The dance and tattooing, indeed, are
-closely related, since nowhere else is the _personal body_ so directly
-the object and the means of artistic activity. To the dances of the
-primitive period, however, the totemic dance adds _one_ external
-feature--the _mask_--whose origin is directly due to totem belief.
-Even the Australians, of course, are not familiar with the mask-dance.
-They sometimes paint the face or mark it with single lines, and this
-may be regarded as the precursor of the mask; the mask itself however
-appears only in the later development of totemism, and continues far
-into the succeeding age. Moreover, as regards its distribution, there
-are considerable differences. It plays its most important rôle in
-American and Polynesian regions, a less prominent one in Africa. In
-America, the mask-dance and the elevation of masks into cult objects,
-to which the mask-dance occasionally gives rise, extend from the
-Esquimos of the north far down to the south. Koch-Grünberg has given
-a clear picture of the mask-dances and the mask-cult of the natives
-of the Brazilian forests. Here the masks are not a secondary means of
-magic, as it were--much less an occasional object of adornment. Every
-mask is a sort of sacred object. When the youth attains to manhood, he
-receives a mask, which is sacred to him throughout his entire life.
-After the great cult festivals, which are celebrated with mask-dances,
-the masks are carefully preserved. In the mask there is supposed to
-reside the demon who is represented by it, and the fear of the demon is
-transferred to the mask. The dancing of this period consists primarily
-of the animal dance, which is a rhythmic imitation, often wonderfully
-skilful, of the movements of an animal. The mask also, therefore,
-always represents, in a more or less altered or grotesquely exaggerated
-form, an animal's head, or a being intermediate between animal and
-man, thus vividly calling to mind certain totemic legends whose heroes
-are sometimes animals and sometimes human beings. On the more advanced
-stages of totemic culture, there are also masks representing objects
-of external nature. Mention has already been made of the cloud masks
-used in the vegetation festivals of the Hopi and Zuni. The rain-priests
-of these tribes, with these masks on their heads and with pictures of
-zigzag lightning on their garments, are the living representatives of
-storm demons. Thus, the mask imparts to its wearer the character of
-the demon represented by it. The characteristics of face-masks, such
-as enormous beards and teeth, huge eyes, noses, etc., cause them,
-particularly, to be the living embodiments of the fear of demons, and
-thus to be themselves regarded as demoniacal beings. Whatever may be
-their more specific nature, whether, for example, they represent
-demons of sickness or of fertility, they always present the same
-fear-inspiring features. A certain diversity of expression is much more
-likely to come as a result of the external character of the dance in
-which the masks are used. This may give rise to expressions portraying
-surprise and astonishment, or the more lively emotions of fear,
-terror, or exalted joy. In the latter case, we must bear in mind that
-representations of grinning laughter differ in but a few characteristic
-marks from those of violent weeping.
-
-Corresponding to these differences in the character of the masks
-that are worn, are _two_ main forms of the dance, particularly of
-the cult dance. The first of these is the _ceremonial dance_, which
-moves in slow and solemn rhythm. This is the dance that generally
-inaugurates the great cult festivals of the semi-cultural peoples
-of totemism or that accompanies certain of the chief features of
-the festival--such, for example, as the entrance and procession of
-the cloud-masked ancestral spirits in the vegetation festivals of
-New Mexico. Contrasting with the ceremonial dance are the _ecstatic
-dances_, which for the most part form the climax of the festival.
-Only the men are allowed to take part in the ceremonial dances, and
-the same is generally true also of the ecstatic dances. The women,
-if not altogether excluded from the ceremonies, are either silent
-witnesses or accompany the dance with songs or screams. It is only in
-the more extreme form of the ecstatic-orgiastic dance that both sexes
-participate. The mixed dances probably arose in connection with the
-vegetation festivals, as a result of the relation which was thought to
-exist between the sexual emotions and the creative forces of nature.
-It was doubtless because of this late origin that the Greeks long
-continued to regard the dances of the Dionysian festivals, which were
-borrowed from Oriental cults and executed by women alone or by women
-and men together, as in part a degeneration of good custom. In the
-drama, whose origin was the mimetic dance, the rôle of women was taken
-by men.
-
-Closely connected with the dance is _music_, the preparatory stage of
-which is constituted by the participation of the voice in the rhythm
-of the external movements of the body. These articulatory movements,
-which form a part of the mimicking activity of the face, supplement the
-dynamic rhythm of the dance with the melodic rise and fall of tones.
-The emotion which finds its outlet in the dance itself, then seeks a
-further enhancement through objective means. These means also involve
-the activity of the bodily organs; noises are produced by clapping the
-hands, by stamping on the ground, or by the rhythmic clash of sticks.
-In the latter case, the transition from instruments of noise to those
-of tone is easily made. The earliest forms of tone instruments are of
-two sorts, according as they copy the production of sound by external
-means, on the one hand, or by the vocal organs, in the accompanying
-tones, on the other. Thus, the two original forms of musical
-instruments are _instruments of concussion_ and _wind instruments_. In
-origin, these are directly connected with the dance. They are natural
-means of intensification created directly by the emotion, though later
-modified by systematic invention. The later development of musical art
-continues to remain in close relation to the two main forms of the
-dance, the solemn ceremonial and the ecstatic dance, between which
-there come to be numerous transitions. From the most primitive to the
-highest stages of music, we continually find two sorts of musical
-expression, the _sustained_ and the _animated_. These correspond to the
-contrasting feelings of rest and excitement, which are experienced even
-by animals, and which man therefore doubtless carried with him from his
-natural state into his cultural life. With the progress of culture,
-these feelings constantly become more richly differentiated.
-
-The totemic age may be said to include only the first few advances
-beyond the simple emotions already expressed in the dance.
-Nevertheless, there are ethnological differences that register in a
-very characteristic way those specific musical talents of the various
-races which are obscured on higher levels of culture because of the
-increasing complexity of international relations. Thus, Africa is
-apparently the chief centre, if not the original home, of instruments
-of concussion and of the great variety of stringed instruments that
-develop from them. America, on the other hand, is the region in which
-wind instruments, in particular their original form, the flute, have
-attained their chief development. The flute of the American Indians is
-not, of course, like our own; it is blown, not with the lips, but with
-the mouth. It therefore resembles a shawm or a clarinet. As regards
-production of tone, however, it is a flute, for the tone is produced
-by the extension of one lip over the other in a manner similar to that
-of the flute-pipes of our organs. That which distinguishes the sound
-of the flute and of its shorter form, the fife, from that of stringed
-instruments is primarily the greater intensity and the longer duration
-of the tone. Corresponding to the difference in musical instruments
-is that of the noise instruments which characterize the two regions.
-Africa possesses the drum. This it employs not only for purposes of
-accompaniment in cult ceremonies, but also as a means of signalling,
-since it renders distant communication possible by use of the so-called
-drum-language. In America, we find the rattle. Though this, of course,
-is not entirely lacking in Africa, it nevertheless occurs primarily
-within the cultural realm of the North American Indians. Here it
-is employed as an instrument of noise and magic, similarly to the
-bull-roarer of the Australians. As between the rattle and the drum, the
-difference is again one of the longer duration of sound in the case of
-the American instrument.
-
-The tones produced by these early musical instruments, however, even
-those of the stringed instruments and their vocal accompaniment, by
-no means, of course, form harmonic music. On the contrary, harmony
-is an achievement of the succeeding age; it is here foreshadowed in
-only imperfect beginnings. Such beginnings, however, may everywhere be
-discerned in the records that we have of the melodies of the Soudan
-negroes and the American races. Nevertheless, most of the records that
-are as yet available are still of doubtful value. The auditor is too
-prone to find in them his own musical experiences. For reliable data
-we must wait until, following the beginnings that have already been
-made, a greater number of such natural songs will have been objectively
-recorded by the aid of the phonograph. As yet we can only say that,
-if we may judge from their musical instruments, the Africans surpass
-all other natural peoples in musical talent. Their melodies ordinarily
-move within the range of about an octave, whereas those of the North
-American Indians seldom pass beyond a sixth. The fact of this small
-tonal compass will itself indicate that the melody of all natural
-peoples tends to very constant rhythms and intervals. The latter,
-moreover, show some similarity to those with which we are familiar. The
-chief characteristic of these songs, however, is their tendency toward
-repetition. One and the same motive frequently recurs with tiresome
-monotony. The melodies thus reflect certain universal characteristics
-of primitive poetry as they appear in the songs of the Veddahs and of
-other pretotemic tribes.
-
-Nevertheless, the forms of _poetry_ exhibit an important advance over
-those of the more primitive peoples just mentioned. Particularly
-in the case of the _song_, we find that the simple expression of
-the moods directly aroused by nature is supplemented by a further
-important feature. This feature is closely bound up with that more
-lively bodily and mental activity of totemic culture which is reflected
-likewise in its use of implements and weapons. Karl Bücher was the
-first to point out that common labour gives rise to common songs,
-whose rhythm and melody are determined by the labour. The increasing
-diversity of the work results in a wider range of content and also
-in a richer differentiation of forms. Such _work-songs_ are to be
-found throughout the entire totemic era, whereas, of course, they are
-lacking in the preceding age, in which common labour scarcely exists.
-Contemporaneously with the work-song, the _cult-song_ makes its
-appearance. The latter is essentially conditioned by the development
-of totemic ceremonies. As these become more numerous, the cult-song
-likewise gradually grows richer and more manifold, in close reciprocal
-relations with the dance and music. In the case of the cult-song, as
-well as of the work-song, the above-mentioned repetition of motives
-comes to exercise an important influence on the accompanying activity.
-Though different causes are operative in the two cases, these causes
-nevertheless ultimately spring from a _single_ source--namely, the
-heightening of emotions. In the cult-song, man aims to bring his
-petitions and, as we may say for the earlier age, the magic which his
-words exercise, as forcibly as possible to the notice of the demons
-or, at a later period, of the gods whom he addresses. For this reason
-the same wish is repeated again and again. The most primitive form of
-cult-song generally consists of but a single wish repeated in rhythmic
-form. In the work-song, on the other hand, it is the constantly
-recurring rhythm of the work that leads directly to the repetition of
-the accompanying rhythmic and melodic motives. When one and the same
-external task becomes associated time and again with these accompanying
-songs, the two mutually reinforce each other. The song is a stimulus
-to the work, and the work heightens the emotion expressed in the song.
-Both results vary with the degree in which the song is adapted to
-the work and thus itself becomes a poetic representation of it. Here
-again neither plan nor purpose originally played the least part; the
-development was determined by the rhythmic and melodic motives immanent
-in the work.
-
-Several brief illustrations may serve to give us a clear picture of
-what has been said. The first is a cult-song of American origin. Again
-we turn to the cult usages of one of the tribes of New Mexico, the Sia.
-The motif of the song, which is rain-magic, furnishes the material
-for very many of the ceremonies of these regions. The song of the
-rain-priests is as follows:--
-
-  All ye fluttering clouds,
-  All ye clouds, cherish the fields,
-  All ye lightnings and thunders, rainbows and
-       cloud-peoples,
-  Come and labour for us.
-
-This song is repeated again and again without change of motif--it is a
-conjuration in the form of a song.
-
-The snake society of the Hopi, to which we have already referred, has
-a similar song, which it sings with musical accompaniment. It runs as
-follows:--
-
-  Oh, snake society of the North, come and labour for us,
-  Snake society of the South, of the West, snake society of the
-      Zenith and of the Nadir,
-  Come hither and labour for us.
-
-The fact that the snake societies of the Zenith and Nadir are invoked
-makes it clear that this song is not, as it were, an appeal addressed
-to other societies of human beings. There are, of course, none such
-at the Zenith or the Nadir. The song is obviously directed to a demon
-society conceived as similar to human cult associations. It petitions
-for assistance in the preparation of the field and for a successful
-harvest.
-
-The repetitions in such cases as these are always due to the fact
-that the songs are conjurations. Not so with the work-song. This is
-generally the expression of a greater diversity of motives, as is shown
-by the following lines taken from a song of the Maoris of New Zealand.
-The song is one which they sing while transporting trunks of trees to
-the coast:--
-
-  Give more room,
-  Joyous folk, give room for the totara,
-  Joyous folk,
-  Give me the maro.
-  *****************************
-  Slide on, slide on!
-  Slip along, slip along!
-  Joyous folk! etc.
-
-'Totara' and 'maro' are the names of trees that they have felled. In
-its rhythm and its repetitions, the song gives us a direct portrayal of
-the work itself.
-
-These song-forms are still entirely the product of external motives
-and never arise under the independent and immediate influence of
-subjective moods. Far superior to them is another field of literary
-composition, the _narrative_. The totemic age, particularly, has
-produced a great variety of forms of narrative. Predominant among these
-is the _märchen-myth_, a narrative which resembles the fairy-tale and
-which, as a rule, continues during this period to be of the nature
-of a credited myth. It is a prose narrative circulated by word of
-mouth, in which manner it sometimes traverses wide regions. With
-occasional changes or in connection with different mythical ideas it
-may survive many generations. So far as these general characteristics
-are concerned, the märchen, indeed, is the most permanent of all forms
-of literary composition. It extends from the most primitive levels
-of culture down to the present. In the form of the märchen-myth,
-however, it is especially characteristic of the totemic age. We now
-possess numerous collections of such tales from the most diverse
-regions of totemic as well as of later civilizations. An Englishwoman,
-Mrs. Parker, has brought together a number of Australian tales, and
-these have been augmented in more recent times, particularly through
-the labours of the German missionary Strehlow. Strehlow has a great
-advantage over most of the other Australian investigators in being
-familiar with the languages of the tribes among whom he lives. Valuable
-material regarding America and Africa has been gathered particularly
-by American and English travellers; data, furthermore, are not lacking
-concerning the natural and cultural peoples of other parts of the
-earth. Moreover, comparative research has for some time past studied
-the märchen with the primary purpose of determining to what localities
-the materials of the märchen and the fable have spread, and thus,
-in turn, of learning the early cultural relations of peoples. This
-investigation of the märchen, however, has, for the most part, suffered
-from a false preconception. The criterion by which we judge present-day
-tales of this sort was applied to märchen-fiction in general. The
-märchen-myths of primitive peoples, therefore, were regarded either
-as creations of individuals and as never having been credited, or, at
-best, as retrogressive forms of higher types of myth--particularly
-of nature myths--adapted to the needs of childlike comprehension.
-A closer investigation of the märchen-myths of relatively primitive
-peoples has rendered this theory absolutely untenable. True,
-retrogressive forms occasionally occur in this as well as in most other
-sorts of myth and of literary composition. Nevertheless, there is no
-longer any room for doubt that, on the one hand, the earliest products
-of narrative composition were all of the nature of the märchen, and
-that, on the other hand, most primitive märchen-fictions were _credited
-myths_. An attempt to arrive at the sources of the most common motifs
-of the märchen of different peoples and ages will reveal the fact that
-the majority of them must undoubtedly be traced to the totemic age.
-Such was the environment, certainly, in which the earliest narrative
-had its setting, particularly in so far as it was believed to report
-truths of history.
-
-The early myth narrative was of the general character of the märchen
-primarily in that it was not, as a rule, restricted to a specific time
-or place. This also differentiates the folk märchen of to-day from the
-saga. An occasional exception is offered by the anthropogenic legends
-of peoples of nature, although these also are in other respects of the
-nature of the märchen. A second essential characteristic of the märchen
-is the fact that magical agencies play a rôle in the determination of
-events. This is true even of present-day folk märchen, and is due to
-the circumstance that the primitive märchen arose in an age which was
-still entirely under the dominance of magical beliefs. These beliefs,
-which influenced all phases of the activity of primitive man, also
-caused the magical märchen to be credited either in their entirety or
-at least in great part. All the narratives of this age, however, bear
-the characteristics of the märchen, as these have just been indicated,
-or, at any rate, it is at most only occasionally, in the primitive
-legend, that they approximate to the saga. It follows, therefore, that
-the development of the myth in general begins with the märchen-myth.
-Here also the development proceeds from below upwards, and not the
-reverse.
-
-But even though the beginnings of the märchen-myth doubtless date
-back to primitive man, the flower of the development is undeniably
-to be found in the totemic age. For it is to this age that all those
-characteristics point that are still to be found, as survivals of the
-totemic period, in present-day märchen and children's fairy-tales.
-Of such characteristics, we might mention primarily the magical
-causality which the action involves--a point to which we have already
-referred--and also the rôle assigned to the _animal_, which is
-portrayed either as the helper and benefactor of man or, at the least,
-as like him in nature. The latter resemblance appears particularly in
-the fact that marriages are frequently represented as taking place
-between man and animals; furthermore, transformations of men into
-animals are said to occur, and retransformations of the latter into
-men. In these totemic märchen we very seldom find man to the exclusion
-of animals; just as little, moreover, do animals appear alone. Both
-the animal fable and the märchen which deals exclusively with human
-beings, are products of a later development and belong to a period in
-which the märchen is no longer credited. Even more truly, however, do
-these primitive märchen lack the moral lessons which are taught by the
-stories of later times, particularly by the fable. Nevertheless, those
-fable märchen which are generally called 'explicative' because they
-explain the traits of certain animals, still generally bear the marks
-of the totemic age, even though they apparently belong to one of its
-somewhat later periods. An example of this is the tale of the American
-Indians of the North-west, according to which the crow became black
-through being burned by the sun while stealing celestial fire; or the
-tale of the Bantus, which explains that the rabbit acquired the cleft
-in his lip as the result of a blow once dealt him by the man in the
-moon.
-
-The most primitive märchen lacks all such intellectualistic motives. It
-recounts an event without any discernible purpose or without bringing
-the action to any natural conclusion. The following Australian märchen
-may serve as an illustration: 'Several women go out into the field
-with their children to gather grass seed. There they meet a magpie. It
-offers to watch the children while the women are gathering the seeds.
-They leave the children with the magpie. When they return, however,
-the children have disappeared. The magpie has hidden them in a hollow
-tree. The women hear the children crying, but do not know where they
-are, and return home without them. The magpie has disappeared.' Such a
-narrative is strikingly similar, in its lack of aim, to the songs of
-primitive peoples. Markedly superior is the märchen-fiction found among
-other natural peoples of totemic culture. These tales gradually develop
-a closer connection between the events. It is now that the märchen hero
-makes his appearance, and it is with him, particularly, that the events
-are associated. This hero is not of course, similar to the one of the
-later hero saga, who gains distinction by his strength, cleverness, and
-other qualities. He is a magic-hero, in control of magical forces. The
-latter are frequently represented as communicated to him by an animal
-which he meets, or by an old woman; more rarely, he is said to receive
-them from a male magician. A further characteristic of the childhood
-period of the märchen-fiction is the fact that the hero himself is
-almost always a child. A youth sets forth on adventure, meets with
-magical experiences, returns home, and generally benefits his tribe
-through certain possessions that he has acquired on his journey. Here,
-again, animals play a supporting rôle. Rich collections of such märchen
-have been gathered, particularly in America. One of the tales of the
-Pawnee tribe of prairie Indians runs as follows: 'A young man did not
-join his companions in their sports, but went alone into the forest.
-One day he returned with a buffalo cow which had become his wife and
-had borne him a buffalo calf. But the very moment that the wife and
-calf entered the hut of the man they were transformed into human
-beings. Nevertheless, a cloud of magic hung over the man. If the child
-were to fall to the floor, it would be changed back into a buffalo
-calf. Now, this misfortune actually came to pass, and the mother was
-also again changed into a buffalo cow. Sadly the young man then went
-with them into the forest, where he himself became a buffalo and for a
-time lived quietly with the buffalo herd. Suddenly he again returned
-home, transformed into a man. But he had learned from the buffaloes
-how one must set about to lure them forth in order to hunt them. This
-secret he imparted to his fellow-tribesmen, and since that time the
-tribe has enjoyed plenty of buffalo meat.' This is a buffalo legend
-which tells of a sort of compact between the tribe and the buffaloes.
-That the legend, moreover, is not a mere märchen in our sense of
-the term, has been strikingly shown by Dorsey, to whom we owe the
-collection of Pawnee tales from which this story is taken. The tale is
-still recounted by the Pawnees when they wish the buffalo to appear for
-the hunt. Thus, it is a magical märchen, not only in that it deals with
-magical events but also in that its narration is supposed to exercise
-magical powers. This naturally presupposes that it is credited.
-
-To trace the further development of the totemic märchen-myth is to
-find the gradual emergence of characteristic changes. The relation
-between man and the animal is slowly altered. This is most clearly
-apparent in connection with the transformation of human beings into
-animals. This change is no longer held to be one in which man, because
-of the magical powers which he acquires, is the gainer, and not the
-loser. The transformation now more and more comes to be regarded as a
-degradation. The man who has changed into an animal is portrayed by
-the märchen as denounced and persecuted by his fellow-tribesmen. He
-is compelled to withdraw into solitude or to live exclusively with
-the animal herd, because he is no longer regarded by his fellows as
-an equal. Later, near the end of the totemic period, the change is
-conceived, not as degradation but as the result of an evil magic from
-which an innocent person suffers, and, eventually, as a punishment
-which overtakes a person because of some misdeed or other. Of these
-notions, that of malevolent magic again apparently antedates that
-of punishment. When the latter appears, the relation which was
-characteristic of totemism at its height becomes practically reversed.
-Quite naturally, therefore, the idea that transformation into an animal
-is a punishment arises long after the close of the totemic age. Indeed,
-it is to be found far into the period of ideas of requital, which are
-a relatively late product of deity cult, and whose development is
-largely influenced by philosophical reflection. Thus considered, the
-doctrine of metempsychosis developed by the Brahmans of India and by
-the Pythagorean sect of the Occident is the last metamorphosis of a
-very ancient totemic animal tale. These changes, however, have had
-practically no influence on the development of the märchen itself. This
-is shown by the fact that the folk märchen of to-day have universally
-retained the idea that the transformation of men into animals is the
-result of malevolent magic. The latter, indeed, is the form in which
-these survivals of a distant totemic past are even to-day most easily
-comprehensible to the child mind.
-
-Thus, the animal märchen is an important product of totemic culture,
-directly embodying the views that dominate the life of this age. In
-addition to such tales, however, and, in part, in combination with
-them, there are several other forms of the märchen-myth, consisting
-chiefly of ideas concerning nature and, to some extent, of magical
-ideas sustained by the human emotions of fear and of hope. _Two_ sorts
-of märchen, especially, should here be mentioned, _celestial tales_
-and _tales of fortune_, both of which owe their development to totemic
-culture. The celestial märchen, however, disappears comparatively
-early, mainly, no doubt, because it is displaced or assimilated by the
-celestial mythology of the post-totemic age. The märchen of fortune, on
-the other hand, remains as a permanent form of märchen-fiction, and all
-later narrative composition has been influenced by it.
-
-The celestial märchen affords a direct record of the impression made by
-celestial phenomena on the consciousness of an age whose ideas were as
-yet circumscribed by the environment. By the environment, however, must
-as yet be understood the entire visible world--sun, moon, and stars,
-as well as hills and valleys, animals and men. The distant, moreover,
-was always likened to that which was near at hand and immediately
-accessible. Animals and men were supposed to inhabit the clouds and
-the heavenly bodies, precisely as they do the earth, and the relations
-which they were there held to sustain to one another are identical with
-those described in the animal tale. When the new moon appears, a wolf
-is devouring the moon; in an eclipse of the sun, the sun is swallowed
-up by a black monster; and when, in the evening, the sun disappears
-behind a dark cloud, it likewise is overpowered by a monster, and the
-red glow of the sunset is the blood which it sheds. _Three_ themes in
-particular are dominant in the most primitive celestial tales: the
-ascension of man into the heavens, his descent from heaven, and the
-devourment of the great heavenly bodies, in particular of the sun, at
-sunset. One of the earliest of these conceptions is the journey to
-heaven. This is indicated by the very fact that the means for this
-journey are always derived directly from nature, or consist of the
-weapons and implements of primitive culture. There is a conception
-current in Australia and Oceania that beings have climbed to heaven
-by means of high trees, or have allowed themselves to be raised up by
-the branch of a tree that had been bent down to the earth. Where the
-bow and arrow exist, as in Melanesia and America, the arrow-ladder is
-frequently employed for the celestial journey. A hunter shoots an arrow
-into the heavens, where it remains fixed; he then sends a second arrow
-which catches into the notch of the first, then a third, a fourth,
-etc., until the ladder reaches to the earth. The downward journey is
-not so difficult. This is generally accomplished by means of a basket
-or a rope sustained by cords; it is thus that the celestial inhabitant
-is enabled to descend to the earth. Many märchen relate that the sun
-and the moon were originally human beings who journeyed to the heavens.
-Here they are thought to remain, or occasionally, perhaps, to return to
-the earth while other human beings take their place.
-
-Besides the märchen telling of the interrelations of human and
-celestial beings, there are also a number of other sorts. Of them we
-may here single out, as a particularly characteristic type, those which
-deal with _devourment_. Obviously, as has already been noticed, it is
-the setting of the sun that very frequently constitutes the central
-theme of these tales. These märchen of devourment, however, differ
-from those that deal with celestial journeys in that they clearly
-exemplify narratives in which only _one_ of the elements consists of
-a celestial phenomenon; in addition to it, there are regularly also
-other elements borrowed from the terrestrial environment. Indeed, the
-latter may of itself originate märchen, independently of the influence
-of celestial phenomena. We must distinguish at the outset, therefore,
-between those märchen of devourment that contain celestial elements
-and others in which these elements are apparently lacking. A familiar
-example of märchen of devourment is the Biblical legend of Jonah. In
-its traditional rendering, this is clearly of a relatively late origin,
-though it is probably based on much older tales. Many of the tales
-of devourment, which are common to all parts of the earth, centre
-about a hero, who is generally a courageous youth seeking adventure.
-The hero is devoured by a monster; he kindles a fire in the belly of
-the monster, and, by burning up its entrails, rescues himself. The
-fact that fire figures so prominently in these tales makes it highly
-probable that they took shape under the influence of observations of
-the setting sun. Other tales make no mention of fire, but relate that
-the belly of the monster is extremely hot, and that the heat singes
-the hair of the one who has been swallowed. In an old illustrated
-Bible which was recently discovered, Jonah is pictured as having a
-luxuriant growth of hair at the moment when he is being swallowed; in
-a second picture, when he comes forth from the belly of the whale,
-he is entirely bald. But even though this reference to fire and to
-heat indicates an influence on the part of the sunset, this type
-of celestial märchen is none the less entirely different from that
-which deals with journeys to heaven and the return to earth. In the
-latter, the heaven is itself the scene of action upon which men and
-animals play their rôles. In the märchen of devourment, the celestial
-phenomenon imparts certain characteristics to the terrestrial action
-that is being described, but the latter continues to preserve its
-terrestrial nature. The narrator of the märchen or legend, therefore,
-may be wholly unconscious of any reference to the heavens. The
-psychological process of assimilation causes elements of a celestial
-phenomenon to be fused into an action of the terrestrial environment
-and to communicate to the latter certain characteristics without,
-however, thereby changing the setting of the action. The shark and the
-alligator are animals capable of devouring men, though this occurs
-less frequently in reality than in story. Yet because thoughts of this
-sort arouse strong emotions, they may of themselves very well come to
-form themes of märchen of devourment. This has frequently been the
-case. It seems to have happened, for example, in the Jonah legend. The
-above-mentioned picture in which the prophet is represented as hairless
-after having been in the belly of the fish, may very well have its
-source in some other märchen of devourment. In thus combining numerous
-elements of different origins, the märchen is truly representative of
-myth development. It shows clearly that the main theme of the myth
-is usually taken from man's terrestrial environment. True, celestial
-elements may enter into its composition and may sometimes give to the
-mythological conception its characteristic features. Even in such
-cases, however, a consideration of the tale as a whole will show that
-the celestial elements are completely absorbed by the terrestrial
-theme; their very existence may be completely unknown to the narrators
-of the tale. In a similar manner, celestial elements have probably
-been involved in the formation of other widely current märchen. Thus,
-the märchen theme underlying the legends of the Babylonian Sargon,
-the Israelitic Moses, and the Egyptian Osiris, as well as other tales
-in which a child, secreted in a chest, is borne away by the waves
-and lands on a distant shore, is generally regarded as having been
-suggested by the temporary disappearance and reappearance of the sun in
-a cloudy sky. In this case, however, the supposition is doubtless much
-more uncertain than in the case of the märchen of devourment. The theme
-relating to fire in the belly of the monster may be regarded as fairly
-unambiguous evidence of the influence of celestial phenomena, precisely
-because it is related only externally and apparently accidentally to
-the action. It should further be said that the märchen of the floating
-chest, at least in its connection with the personalities of the saga
-and of history, does not appear until the post-totemic age. It is
-probably an old märchen-theme which was assimilated by these legends of
-origin because the origin of a hero or a god was unknown and demanded
-explanation. Once appropriated, it underwent a number of changes in
-form.
-
-Thus, the celestial märchen transcends the ideas characteristic of the
-totemic age. No less do the tales of _fortune_ or _adventure_ generally
-mark the transition from the supremacy of the animal to the dominance
-of man. These tales, however, exhibit but a gradual and continuous
-development. In the earliest märchen-myths, of which several examples
-have already been mentioned, the narrative describes an event with
-entire objectivity, without any apparent colouring derived from the
-emotional attitude of the narrator. Later, however, even the totemic
-animal märchen more and more betrays a love of the adventurous and of
-shifting fortunes. This change varies with the degree in which _man_
-steps into the centre of action, and animals, though not entirely
-disappearing, receive a place, similarly to monsters and other
-fantastic beings, only in so far as they affect the destinies of the
-hero of the tale. The main theme of the narrative then consists of the
-adventures of the hero, who is represented as experiencing many changes
-of fortune, always, however, with a happy ending. But even at this
-stage of development the hero is a boy; at a somewhat later period, a
-young girl sometimes assumes the rôle, or a youth wins a maiden after
-numerous adventures. At this point, the tale of fortune ceases to be
-a true märchen-myth. Just as the dance changes from a cult ceremony
-into a direct expression of lively emotions of pleasure, themselves
-heightened by the joy in the rhythm of the bodily movements, so also
-does the märchen develop into a narrative that ministers to the mere
-delight in fluctuations of life-events and in their happy outcome.
-
-Thus, the beginnings of the tale of fortune go back to early totemic
-culture, though its more perfect development is to be found only among
-the semi-cultural peoples of the totemic era. The hero of the märchen
-then gradually passes over into the hero of the saga and of the epic.
-Instead of the boy who sets forth upon magical adventures, we find the
-youth who has matured into manhood and whose mighty deeds fill the
-world with his fame. The preliminary steps to this transition are taken
-when the märchen hero, particularly in the tale of fortune, acquires
-a more and more _personal_ character. Thus, even at a very early age,
-we find that two types of hero appear side by side--the strong and
-the clever. These types, portrayed by the märchen, survive also in
-the heroes of the epic. Moreover, in addition to the strong and the
-clever, the Achilles and the Ulysses, the märchen introduces also the
-malevolent, quarrelsome, and despicable hero, the Thersites.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER III
-
-THE AGE OF HEROES AND GODS
-
-
-
-1. GENERAL CHARACTER OF THE HEROIC AGE
-
-
-The expression 'the age of heroes and gods' may meet with objection
-no less than may 'totemic age.' The latter has an air of strangeness,
-because the conceptions of totem and totemism, borrowed from modern
-ethnology, have as yet remained unfamiliar to historians, and
-especially to the historians of civilization. The former expression
-may be objected to on the ground that the conceptions 'heroes' and
-'gods' are altogether too familiar to be extended beyond their specific
-meaning and applied to an entire age. The word 'hero' suggests to
-us perhaps the Homeric Achilles, or Siegfried of the Niebelungen
-saga--those mighty, victorious warriors of epic song who, as we
-have already seen, gradually evolved out of the heroes of primitive
-märchen. It is self-evident, however, that, when applied to a great
-and important period of culture, the expression 'hero' must not be
-limited to the narrow meaning which it possesses in hero-lore. True,
-we must not go so far as does Carlyle when, in his "Heroes and Hero
-Worship," he begins the race of heroes with Odin of the Northmen and
-ends it with Shakespeare and Goethe, thus extending the heroic age
-from prehistoric times down to the present. Nevertheless, if we would
-do justice to the significance of the conception 'heroic' as applied
-to an important period of human development, we must be permitted to
-include under the broader conception 'heroic age,' not merely the
-heroic hero but also the hero who has factored in the spiritual realm,
-as the founder of cities or states, or the creator of religions. These
-latter heroes were gradually evolved, in the course of political and
-religious development, out of the ancient epic heroes; in them, the
-heroic age continues its existence after the heroes of the powerful
-and crafty types have disappeared. In this broader significance of
-the word, a hero is any powerful individuality whatsoever, and the
-general characteristic of this new age, therefore, is the predominance
-of the _individual personality_. Externally, this expresses itself
-primarily in the fact that the age regards even all past events as
-the deeds of individual persons. Bound up with this is a progressive
-individualization of human personalities, and a constant refinement of
-the crude distinctions that characterize the tale of adventure and the
-older hero-lore.
-
-The gods of this age are likewise patterned entirely after powerful
-human personalities. They are anthropomorphic in every respect--human
-beings of a higher order, whose qualities, though found only among
-men, are magnified to infinitude. Just as the hero is a man endowed
-with more than ordinary human capacities, so the god is a hero exalted
-above the measure of earthly heroes. This itself implies that the
-hero necessarily precedes the god, just as man antedates the hero.
-Any fairly detailed account of this period, therefore, must deal with
-the hero before considering the god. The god is created after the
-image of the hero, and not, as traditional mythology still believes,
-the hero after the image of the god. It would, indeed, be a strange
-procedure for man first to create the ideal conception of his god and
-only subsequently to transform this into human outlines, and thus
-produce the hero. In the advance from man to the anthropomorphic
-god, the hero would surely already have been encountered. This, of
-course, does not imply that gods may not occasionally be transformed
-into heroes; it simply means that in the development as a whole the
-hero must have preceded the god. The relation here is precisely the
-same as that found everywhere else in connection with the development
-and degeneration of mythological conceptions. The fact of sequence,
-however, must not be interpreted to mean that we can point to a time
-in which there were heroes but no gods. Hero and god belong together.
-Both reflect an effort to exalt human personality into the superhuman.
-In this process, no fixed line may be drawn separating the hero, whose
-activity still falls within the human sphere, from the god, who is
-exalted above it. In fact, the differences between hero and god are
-by no means merely quantitative, measurable in terms of the elevation
-above the plane of human characteristics; the differentiating marks are
-essentially _qualitative_. The hero remains human in all his thought
-and action. The god, on the other hand, possesses not merely human
-capacities raised to their highest power, but also characteristics
-which are lacking in man and therefore also in the hero. Especially
-noteworthy among the latter is the ability through his own power to
-perform magical acts, and thus to interfere at will in the course of
-nature as well as in human life. True, the hero of saga and poetry
-also employs magical agencies. The means of magic which he controls,
-however, have been bestowed upon him by some strange demoniacal being,
-either by one of those demons which, in the form of a man, an animal,
-or a fantastic monster, are recognized even by the early mythical
-tales as magical beings, or by a god, who, as such, combines the
-highest qualities of the hero with those of the demon. The conception
-of an anthropomorphic god, therefore, results from a fusion of hero
-with demon. Of these, the hero is a new creation, originating in the
-mental life of this later age. He was long foreshadowed, however, first
-by the animal ancestor (especially in so far as the latter brought
-blessings and good fortune), and then by the subsequent cult of human
-ancestors. But the figure of the hero is not completely developed until
-the human personality enters into the very forefront of mythological
-thought; then, through regular transitions, the value placed on
-personal characteristics is enhanced until the ideal of the hero is
-reached. Doubtless the hero may still incidentally be associated with
-the ancestor, yet personality as such has now come so to dominate the
-interest of the age that in comparison with it the genealogical feature
-is but secondary.
-
-Not so with the demon-idea. Though it has come down from very remote
-times and has assumed many forms as a result of varying cultural
-conditions, the demon has always remained a magic being, arousing now
-hope, now fear and terror. This was its nature up to the very time
-when the ideal of the hero arose. This new idea it then appropriated,
-just as it did, in earlier times, the ideas of a soul that survives
-the deceased, of the totem animal, of the ancestor, and of other
-mythological figures. The very nature of the demon has always been
-constituted by such incorporated elements. From this point of view, the
-god also is only a new form of demon. In its earlier forms, however,
-as spirit-demon, animal-demon, and, finally, even as ancestor-demon,
-the demon was an impersonal product of the emotions, and possessed
-characteristics which underwent constant transformations. When it
-became a hero, it for the first time rose to the level of a personal
-being. Through the enhancement of the qualities of the hero it was
-then elevated into the sphere of the superhuman. Thus it came to
-constitute a human ideal far transcending the hero. This accounts
-for the uniqueness of the god-conception, and for the fact that,
-though the god assumes the essential characteristics of the demon,
-the two are nevertheless more widely distinct than were any of the
-earlier forms of demon conceptions from those that anteceded them. The
-rise of the god-idea, therefore, ushers in a new epoch of religious
-development. Just because of the contrast between personal god and
-impersonal demon, this epoch may be designated as that of the _origin
-of religion_, in the narrower and proper sense of the word. The various
-forms of pure demon-belief are preparatory to religion; religion
-itself begins with the belief in gods. The relation which the belief
-in demons sustains to the belief in gods is another evidence that hero
-and god must be grouped together, for there can be no clearly marked
-temporal difference in the origin of these two ideals of personality.
-Just as soon as the figure of the human hero arises, it assimilates
-the demon-conception, which was already long in existence and which
-continually underwent changes as a result of the various ideas with
-which it came into contact. Alongside of the being that arose from
-this fusion, however, there continued also the hero in his purity, as
-well as the demon, whose various forms were at most crowded into the
-background by the appearance of the gods. To however great an extent,
-therefore, the age of heroes and gods may introduce a completely new
-spiritual movement that proves fundamental to all future culture and
-religion, it nevertheless also includes all the elements of previous
-development. These elements, moreover, are not merely present in forms
-that have been altered and in part completely changed by the processes
-of assimilation; side by side with such forms, there are always also
-the original elements, which may be traced back to the earliest
-beginnings of mythological thought. The dominant factor determining
-the character of this new age, however, is the _hero_. The ideal of
-human personality which the hero engenders in the folk consciousness
-conditions all further development, and especially the origin of the
-god. For this reason the 'age of heroes and gods' might also, and more
-briefly, be called the _heroic age_.
-
-As the direct incarnation of the idea of personality, it is the hero
-about whom the new development of myth and religion centres. Similarly,
-the hero also stands in closest relation to the transformations that
-occur in all other departments of human life. Enormous changes in
-economic conditions and in the forms of life dependent upon them,
-new social institutions, with their reactions upon custom and law,
-transformations and creations in all branches of art--all give
-expression to the new development upon which this age has entered.
-Here also, just as at the beginning of the anteceding age, there are
-numerous reciprocal relations between these various factors. The hero
-and the god cannot be conceived apart from the _State_, whose founding
-marks the beginning of this period. Custom and law are just as much
-results of the new political society as they are themselves essential
-factors in its creation. Neither the State nor the worship of gods
-protected by it could survive apart from the great changes in economic
-life that took place at the beginning of this period, and that were
-further established and perfected in the course of time. Thus, here
-also each element reinforces every other; all the factors of life are
-in constant interaction. At the beginning of the totemic period, as
-we have seen, it was the new creations of mythological thought that
-constituted the centre from which radiated all the other elements of
-culture. At the beginning of the age of heroes and gods it is the
-creative power of the _religious_ consciousness whose activities most
-accurately mirror the various spiritual achievements of the period.
-
-
-
-2. THE EXTERNAL CULTURE OF THE HEROIC AGE.
-
-
-The heroic era is so comprehensive and comprises so large a part of
-human history that any attempt to arrive at even the barest outlines
-of its external culture makes it clear that this culture is even less
-unitary than is that of the preceding period. The differentiation of
-phenomena naturally increases with advancing development. Even the
-various forms of totemic culture manifest wide differences in detail;
-indeed, when taken as a whole, they represent distinct stages. When
-we come to the heroic age, however, whose beginning is practically
-coincident with the beginnings of history in the usual sense of the
-term, and which includes within itself a large part of the succeeding
-course of events, the multiplicity and diversity of the forms of
-culture are incomparably greater. Every nation has its particular
-heroes, even though there are also certain general hero-types which
-everywhere recur. Even more does each nation have its gods. Heroes
-and gods are ideals created in the image of men, and therefore they
-always reflect--if possible, in a heightened degree--the characteristic
-differences of peoples. Nevertheless, amid all these differences of
-times and peoples, there are certain constant features that distinguish
-the heroic period both from the preceding age and from the era that
-follows. Most important of all these features is the establishment of
-the _State_. It was a long step from totemic tribal organization to
-political institutions. In the surge and press of the folk migrations
-which occurred at the beginning of the heroic period, traces of the
-preceding tribal organization were still everywhere present. Tribes did
-not change suddenly into States. Nevertheless, along with the emergence
-of the heroic age and its concomitant phenomena, there was a noticeable
-tendency towards the formation of a political order. This development
-pursued different courses, depending on the character of the nations or
-of their heroes and gods. It is primarily the resultant differences in
-political organization which, when considered in connection with the
-parallel changes in mythological and religious development, clearly
-show that in this period, just as in the totemic age, all other aspects
-of culture were closely dependent upon mythological and religious
-ideas. 'Totemism' connotes not merely a complex of mythological beliefs
-in which a certain stage of culture had its setting, but also a unique
-form of tribal organization, which, in spite of many differences of
-detail, remained constant in its general features. Similarly, political
-society, in the original form in which it long survived, was closely
-bound up with the heroic age, even though the increasing differences
-between national cultures led, from the very outset, to a greater
-diversity of forms than were to be found in the case of totemism.
-In spite of these differences, however, the factor fundamental to
-political society remained the same. The formation of States was always
-conditioned by individual _rulership_. This itself is indicative of
-the character of the age as a whole: its typical expression is to be
-found in the personalities of heroes and of gods. Again it was the
-migrations and wars of peoples that brought about the dissolution of
-the old tribal organization and the creation of political society.
-But these migrations and wars were on an incomparably broader scale
-and had more intimate interconnections than had previously been the
-case. This gave them a correspondingly greater significance, both
-intensively and extensively. As a matter of comparison, we may refer
-to the migrations of the Malayan race during the totemic age. It would
-be difficult to conceive of more extensive migrations. But they
-took place gradually, in separate waves, and left no traces, for the
-most part, beyond changes in the physical characteristics and in the
-languages of peoples. These migrations, which frequently involved long
-voyages across the sea, were carried on by but small numbers of people,
-who set out from restricted groups. It cannot be doubted that these
-migrations exercised an influence on the character and the culture of
-the resulting mixed races. They were never able, however, completely
-to transform the culture as a whole. Even when these tribal migrations
-occurred in oft-repeated waves, they never resulted in more than such
-imperfect beginnings of a political organization as we find among
-the Polynesians or, in other parts of the earth, among many of the
-semi-cultural peoples of America and Africa.
-
-Quite different are the _folk migrations_ that occur at the very
-dawn of the history of the great cultural peoples. The difference
-between tribal and racial migrations is an important one. When a race
-migrates, it retains its peculiar characteristics, its traditions, its
-heroes, and its gods, and transplants these into the new territory.
-True, these various elements do not remain unchanged. They inevitably
-become fused with the culture of the original inhabitants, and it is
-from these fusions, when they are at all deep-going, that new peoples
-arise. None of the great cultural nations that mark the beginning of
-this age of heroes and gods, from the Babylonians down to the Greeks,
-the Romans, and the Germans, is homogeneous. Indeed, recent Babylonian
-investigations have shown that the Semitic immigration into Babylon
-was preceded by that of other peoples who were probably of different
-origin--namely, the Sumerians. We know of the latter only through
-linguistic traces in Babylonian inscriptions, of which, however, the
-religious parts, especially, show that the Sumerians exercised a great
-influence upon later civilization. Similarly, the settlement of the
-Greeks, Romans, and Germans in the territory which they eventually
-occupied, followed upon great earlier migrations to these regions. The
-people that finally formed the Greek race left the mountain country
-of Thrace and Thessaly in prehistoric times; wandering towards the
-sea, they fused with the original inhabitants of the regions into
-which they entered. In view of these migrations of early history, the
-theory of the desirability of racial purity, which has recently been so
-ardently championed in many quarters, is scarcely tenable. Political
-organization, on the one hand, and mythology and religion, on the
-other, represent important creations which for the most part sprang
-into existence only in the wake of migration and of the resultant
-fusion of peoples of different races.
-
-Though political organization has been mentioned as the first important
-feature distinguishing the heroic age from the preceding era, there
-is a second and not less significant differentia. This relates to the
-material conditions of life. Two things are of outstanding importance
-for the new culture. The first of these consists in what we ordinarily
-call agriculture--that is, the tilling of the soil by the aid of the
-_plough_, or, as it is therefore more properly called in contrast to
-the earlier hoe-culture, plough-culture. In addition, there is the
-_breeding of domestic animals_, particularly of food-supplying cattle,
-and, later, of sheep and goats.
-
-It is even to-day widely believed that, of the various modes of
-procuring food, hunting came first. The hunter is thought to have
-been seized, one fine day, with an impulse to domesticate animals
-instead of hunting them. He tamed the wild creatures, and thus turned
-from a hunter into a nomad. In the course of time, the nomad is then
-supposed to have tired of his wandering life and to have settled
-down in permanent habitations. Instead of obtaining milk by herding
-his cattle, he hitched the ox to the plough, after having (with that
-wisdom and foresight which such theories always attribute to primitive
-man) invented the plough. This theory is an impossible fiction from
-beginning to end. It is just as intrinsically improbable as is the
-above-mentioned hypothesis that in prehistoric times the Australians
-invented totemic tribal organization and exogamy for the purpose of
-preventing the marriage of relatives. We have seen, on the contrary,
-that the prohibition of such marriages was a consequence of exogamy,
-and that the latter, in turn, was not a deliberate invention but the
-natural result of certain conditions inherent in the culture of the
-age. All these institutions were originally due to influences whose
-outcome could not possibly have been foreseen. The same is true of the
-subject under discussion. In the first place, the assumed order of
-succession of the three stages of life is contradicted by facts. It is
-hardly correct to speak of a hunting life which is not supplemented
-by a certain amount of agriculture in the form of hoe-culture--an
-industry which, as a rule, is carried on by the woman in the immediate
-vicinity of the hut. This primitive agriculture existed even at a very
-early age. We find it widely prevalent among the American aborigines,
-who possessed no domesticated animal whatever except the dog, and the
-dog, as was above observed, was never tamed at all, but domesticated
-itself at the very dawn of prehistoric times. The supposition that the
-nomadic life followed upon that of the hunter is impossible, in the
-second place, because the animals that are hunted are not identical
-with those that form the care of the nomad. Cattle were never objects
-of the chase; the closely related buffalo, on the other hand, was never
-domesticated, but has remained exclusively a game animal down to the
-present day. Game animals have never been domesticated and utilized
-for the purpose of supplying milk and drawing the plough. No doubt the
-domestic animals of the nomad at one time existed in a wild state. Wild
-cattle, of course, preceded tame cattle. But the latter did not develop
-from the former by the indirect way of the hunted animal. Nor does
-agriculture at all presuppose a nomadic life. There are vast stretches
-of the Old World, as, for instance, all of China, Indo-China, and
-Indonesia, where the production of milk was never engaged in but where
-agriculture in the form of plough-culture has existed, in part, since
-early times. Agriculture, however, involves the raising of cattle,
-particularly of oxen. These male cattle are castrated, usually when
-very young. They are thus made tractable, so that they may be hitched
-to the plough and used for agricultural purposes more easily than is
-possible in the case of bulls, which are never completely manageable.
-What, then, were the motives which led to the raising of cattle, an
-occupation which, in many places at least, is carried on solely in
-the interests of agriculture? What motives led to the castration of
-male cattle, a practice which everywhere obviously serves agricultural
-purposes?
-
-The traditional mode of explanation would lead us to suppose that man
-foresaw the effects of castration, that he knew beforehand that if the
-bull were subjected to this operation he would become an animal fitted
-to draw the plough. The impossibility of this supposition is evident.
-Such an effect could be learned only from experience, prior to which,
-therefore, it could not have been known. The problem relating to the
-cultivation of the soil by means of the plough, therefore, divides into
-two questions: How may we account for the ox? How for the plough? These
-questions are closely related, and yet they lead us back to divergent
-explanations. For in all probability the plough was originally drawn
-by man. Moreover, the plough was not the first implement to be thus
-drawn; it was anteceded by the _wagon_. Even on the early Babylonian
-and Assyrian monuments there were figures of a wagon bearing either
-an image of a god or else the king or chief priest, both of whom were
-probably regarded as uniting in _one person_ the function of their
-offices with that of representative of the deity. Thus, the question
-as to the origin of the plough carries us back directly to that of the
-origin of the wagon. Now, the earliest wagon had but two wheels; the
-four-wheeled wagon came as a later discovery or as an improvement.
-The two-wheeled wagon, however, presupposes the wheel. But how did
-the wheel come to be recognized as a useful object of locomotion? The
-first traces of a wheel or of wheel-like objects are to be found in
-the latter part of the stone age. A number of such objects have been
-discovered in Europe; in their centre is a hole, and there are spokes
-that radiate to the circumference. The fact that these wheels are
-of small size indicates that they may have been worn about the neck
-as amulets. But even in early culture the wheel was also put to an
-entirely different use. Widely prevalent over the earth and probably
-connected with ancient sun worship, is the custom of kindling a fire
-to celebrate the festival of the summer solstice. In ancient Mexico,
-tradition tells us, this fire was started by turning a notched disk
-of wood about a stake until the heat thus generated gave rise to
-fire--the same method of producing fire by friction that is still in
-use among primitive peoples. This fiery wheel was then rolled down
-a hill as an image of the sun, and later, when the custom had lost
-its original magical significance, as a symbol of the sun moving in
-the heavens. According to the report of W. Mannhardt, a remarkably
-similar custom existed in East Prussia not so very long ago. Perhaps
-the wheel that was worn about the neck as an amulet or article of
-adornment likewise had some connection with the idea that the sun
-was a celestial wheel rolling across the heavens. After the early
-sun cults had once created the rolling wheel in imitation of the sun
-and its movements, it was but a short step to the idea of securing
-regular, continuous movements by means of which some sort of work
-might be performed. An early application of this idea is to be found
-in the practice of spinning with distaff and whorl. This invention
-was credited even by the ancients to prehistoric times. Doubtless its
-origin belongs to the beginnings of the heroic age. This same early
-period, however, probably also used the wheel for transporting heavy
-articles. This was the original purpose of the one-wheeled barrow. It
-alone enabled the ancient Babylonians and Egyptians to overcome the
-difficulties of transporting by human agencies the mighty blocks of
-stone required for their temples and pyramids. From this it was not a
-far advance to the two-wheeled wagon. The barrow was pulled or pushed
-by men. The wagon, in contrast to the barrow, was apparently from the
-beginning an aristocratic mode of transit, never used by the common
-people. The two-wheeled wagon was in the first instance a vehicle of
-the gods. Later it served as the vehicle of the ruler, the terrestrial
-counterpart of the deity. Finally, the nobleman employed it in war,
-in going forth to battle. A vivid portrayal of battles in which such
-two-wheeled wagons played a part is presented in the Iliad. True, the
-wagon is here also, as a rule, only a means for carrying the hero to
-the scene of combat. The fighting itself is seldom done from it. Upon
-its arrival at the appointed place, the warrior dismounts, to try
-his strength, shield against shield, with his opponent. The general
-populace, however, always goes on foot.
-
-This sketch gives us the main outlines of the history of the wagon.
-But how did the animal, first the ox and later the horse, come to be
-hitched to the wagon? Originally, the wagon bearing the image of the
-god was very probably drawn by men, as was likewise, in imitation of
-this, the chariot of the king. But the breeding of animals soon changed
-matters. Oxen were used for the purpose of drawing wagons much earlier
-than were horses. The horse did not appear until late in the history
-of civilization. There are no Egyptian pictures of horses that date
-back farther than the fifteenth dynasty, whereas those of cattle occur
-considerably earlier. In Oriental civilization, furthermore, the ass
-antedates the horse. In harmony with ancient custom, the ass even
-to-day continues, in the Orient, to be a favourite beast of burden as
-well as a riding animal. The horse seems to make its first appearance
-in history along with the Indo-Germanic tribes, who were probably
-indebted for it to the Turanian peoples of the Asiatic steppes. As a
-result of its superior speed, it then superseded its rivals in all the
-civilized countries of the ancient world. The Assyrian king went forth
-to the chase and the Homeric hero proceeded to battle in a chariot
-drawn by steeds. It was only later that the Greeks used the horse for
-saddle purposes, and not merely to draw the chariot. When this took
-place, equestrian combat came into favour among the aristocracy.
-
-This development, however, was preceded not only by the taming of
-cattle but probably also by the use of the ox for drawing the wagon.
-How the latter came about may, of course, only be conjectured. The
-bull has remained unmanageable even to the present day; the attempt to
-hitch him to a wagon, therefore, must always have failed. The cow was
-not forced into this service--at least, not in those places where milk
-was valued. On the other hand, the castrated male animal is thoroughly
-suited to the task of drawing the wagon. It is stronger than the cow,
-and also more tractable. It is inconceivable, however, that castration
-was originally performed with the purpose of engendering these
-characteristics. Before there could be such a purpose, the results must
-already have been known--that is, the operation must already have been
-performed for other purposes. Eduard Hahn has offered a suggestion
-with reference to our problem. He has called attention to the ancient
-Asiatic cults of the Phrygian Cybele and the Syrio-Phoenician Astarte.
-These cults are similar to the vegetation festivals which, as was
-mentioned in the preceding chapter, may be found among the Pueblo
-peoples of America. Similar orgiastic phenomena recur wherever peoples
-are primarily concerned with agriculture and are anxious for the
-welfare of the grain. The beginnings of vegetation cults, found in the
-earlier period of hoe-culture, were succeeded by more developed deity
-cults, connected with plough-culture. The ecstatic motives associated
-with the tilling of the soil then extended their influence beyond the
-limits of vegetation cults proper and became universal elements of the
-deity cults. The powers shared by the numerous demoniacal beings of
-the more primitive cults were now centralized in a _single_ goddess
-mother. The life-giving activity of the deity in connection with human
-procreation came to be of focal interest. The exaggerated development
-of cult ecstasy caused the orgy to become a form of self-mortification.
-The cult associates, especially the priests, lacerated and emasculated
-themselves in the fury of religious excitement. By becoming a permanent
-custom, this gave rise to a group of eunuchs consecrated to the
-service of the deity. These were doubtless the earliest eunuchs of
-history. In the guardians of Turkish harems and in the singers of
-the Sistine Chapel, survivals of these unrestrained cults of the past
-still exist. Now, when the group of emasculated priests paced beside
-the chariot of the goddess, they might easily have hit upon the idea
-of hitching a castrated animal to the wagon. But, however plausible
-this hypothesis may appear, in that it avoids the impossible assumption
-of an invention, it nevertheless leaves one question unanswered. Even
-though the castration of the priest may be understood as the result of
-the well-known effects of extreme religious excitement, the castration
-of the bull is not yet accounted for. Are we to suppose that the priest
-merely aimed to render the animal similar to himself? Neither ecstasy
-nor reflection could account for such a purpose. But there is another
-factor which has always been significant for cult, and which attained
-to increased importance precisely in the worship of the deity. I refer
-to _sacrifice_. In its highest stages, sacrifice assumes new forms, in
-that man offers either himself or parts of his own body, his blood, his
-hair, or a finger. A late survival of such sacrifices is to be found
-in a custom that is still prevalent in Catholic countries. Here it
-frequently occurs that a sick man lays a wax replica of the diseased
-part of his body upon the altar of the saint. This idea of sacrificing
-parts of one's own body is also exemplified in the self-emasculation
-practised by the Russian sect of Skopzi even in our own Christian age.
-Such sacrifice, moreover, may receive a wider application, so as to
-include, among the sacrificial objects, parts of the animal. Now at one
-time the kidneys with their connected organs were regarded as vehicles
-of the soul, and, as such, were sacrificed to the gods. The castration
-of the bull, therefore, may originally well have been regarded as the
-sacrifice of the most readily accessible of the favourite vehicles
-of the soul. Thus, it may have been in the case of the animal whose
-generative organs had been sacrificed to the deity that man first
-observed the change of characteristics which fitted the animal to be
-hitched to the chariot of the deity, and finally, through an extension
-of its sphere of usefulness, to draw the plough across the fields.
-This hypothesis, which presupposes the joint influence of orgiastic
-vegetation cults and ancient sacrificial usages, is, of course, not
-susceptible of positive demonstration. Nevertheless, to one concerned
-with the transition from ancient field cults to the agriculture
-of later times, the combination of conditions just indicated may
-reasonably be regarded as affording the basis of an hypothesis that is
-psychologically not improbable.
-
-Whether the raising of the milch cow was coincident with the taming
-of the ox for the purposes of agriculture, and whether it came about
-as the result of a similar transformation of motives, it is hardly
-possible to determine. Though such changes are of more importance
-for the development of culture than are many of the campaigns and
-ancient folk wars of which history has preserved a record, no positive
-clue as to their origin has anywhere survived. All that we know with
-certainty is that the taming of the ox to draw the plough and the
-raising of the milch cow are not necessarily bound up with one another.
-For plough-culture and the milk industry are by no means always to
-be found together. In spite of his highly developed agriculture, the
-Chinaman loathes milk, whereas the Hindoo regards it as a valuable
-gift of civilization, prizing it not only because of the butter which
-he secures from it but especially as a food and as a sacrifice to the
-gods. The Israelites received the promise that Canaan was to be a land
-"that floweth with milk and honey." The latter expression suggests the
-cultural conditions of two widely different periods. Milk represents
-the most valuable product of later culture, while even primitive man
-regarded the honey which he gathered from the hives of wild bees as his
-most precious article of food.
-
-Whatever may be the relation of the two factors in the domestication
-of cattle, whether the taming of the ox preceded the raising of cows
-or vice versa, the production of milk, at any rate, represents the
-more difficult and slower task. The taming of the ox is essentially an
-act that affects only the particular animal in question; even to-day
-it must be repeated in the case of every male calf; the inheritance
-of acquired characteristics is here not operative. The cow, just as
-all female mammals in their natural condition, produces very little
-milk except during the period of suckling, and then only so much as is
-necessary for the support of her young. Only through efforts continued
-throughout generations and as a result of the inheritance of acquired
-characteristics could she be brought to that tremendous over-production
-of her secretion of which she has become capable. In this case,
-therefore, there must from the very outset have been a systematic
-striving toward the desired goal. It is not absolutely essential to
-assume a change of motives such as occurred in the taming of the ox;
-from the very beginning there may have been an attempt to make personal
-use of the milk which Nature intended for the calf. Nevertheless, it is
-not impossible that religious motives here also played a part. This is
-made all the more probable by the fact that the cow, no less than the
-bull and the ox, was worshipped by many peoples even in the earliest
-period of deity cults. Such worship is particularly noteworthy,
-inasmuch as cattle were never favourite totem animals as was, for
-instance, the buffalo among the hunting peoples of the American
-prairies. Even though the general idea of animal cult was carried over
-from the totemic period to the beginnings of the agrarian deity cults,
-this animal cult was essentially changed, and it became associated with
-different objects. The latter are now no longer connected with the old
-totem beliefs that sprang, in part, from primitive animism; they are
-determined entirely by the conditions of a later culture, one of whose
-essential elements is the domestication of cattle. The two fundamental
-constituents of this later culture, agriculture and the milk industry,
-are not everywhere equally prized. Hence there is a difference as
-regards the relative importance of the male and the female member of
-the species in the cult worship that is accorded to the most valued
-domestic animal of the new economic era. In the Opis-worship of the
-Egyptians, as well as in the Persian cult of Mithra, the bull was
-regarded as an incarnation of the supreme deity. In many sections of
-Northern Europe it is even to-day customary, at harvest-time, to bedeck
-an ox with ribbons and wreaths of flowers and to lead him in a festal
-procession. On the other hand, we find that the Vedas and the Avesta,
-in harmony with the high value which the ancient Indian and Iranian
-peoples place on milk, extol the cow as the most sacred of animals. In
-the first stages of the domestication of cattle, it was possible to
-gain only a small supply of milk, since its over-production could be
-developed but slowly; just for this reason, however, milk was all the
-more valuable. This may probably also throw light on the high value
-which was long placed on butter as a sacrificial gift. The attempt to
-secure this valuable product for sacrificial purposes may then itself
-in turn have reacted upon the milk industry. Thus, the two great
-advances in material culture that attend the heroic age--the tilling of
-the soil with the plough and the systematic endeavour to secure milk
-and its products--seem to be, in part, directly due to, and, in part,
-closely bound up with, motives of cult. External culture and inner
-religious impulses have always attested themselves to be elements of a
-totality all of whose parts are interrelated.
-
-Of the new forms of industry which thus arose, the cultivation of the
-soil by means of the plough led to a further important change. This
-change was just as much an effect of the new conditions of life as it
-was an expression of the altered spirit of the times. The guidance
-of the plough is a task which prevents the field work from being any
-longer done in common, as it was at the height of hoe-culture and
-during the time of the origin of the great vegetation festivals of
-totemism. The individual must guide his own plough. The appearance of
-plough-culture _individualizes labour_. Just as the individual comes
-to the fore in political development and is extolled in legend as
-the founder of cities and States, so also is it the individual who
-cultivates the land. This individualistic tendency also gradually makes
-itself felt in the raising of domestic animals. Plough-culture gives
-rise to _private property_ as regards both the soil and its products.
-
-Here again, however, the new social order influences economic life, and
-both together produce further changes in external culture. Individual
-activity receives emphasis not alone in the cultivation of the soil
-but also in _warfare_. Primitive man was not at all familiar with
-war. He slew his enemy from an ambush, attacking him but seldom in
-open combat. In the totemic age, when actual weapons of war first
-made their appearance, tribal war was a strife of many against many.
-As yet the individual combatants were not sharply differentiated from
-one another. The masses clashed with each other in unregulated strife,
-without definite leadership or fixed system. Only with the dawn of
-the political era do we find regulated single combat. Such combat
-then becomes the decisive factor in warfare. Consider the Homeric
-description of the battles before the walls of Troy. The battle is
-decided by champions (_promachoi_). These alight from their chariots
-of war and fight, man against man. The masses stand in the background,
-hurling lances or stones. Their actions, however, have little
-importance. They flee as soon as their champion falls. The result of
-the battle thus depends upon individuals and not upon the masses. The
-weapons also conform to these altered conditions. In earlier times,
-practically none but long-distance weapons were used--the sling, the
-hurled spear, or the bow and arrow, weapons similar to those employed
-in the chase. Single combat necessitated weapons of close range--the
-axe, held fast in the hand, the lance, used as a thrusting weapon,
-and the sword. Instead of the long shield, covering almost the entire
-body--shields such as even the Australians and also the earliest
-Greeks carried--a small round shield was demanded by reason of the
-use of swords in fighting. Of the various weapons found at the zenith
-of the heroic age, therefore, the sword is the most characteristic.
-It is also the most typical creation of this period. It obviously
-originated through a gradual shortening of the lance, thus becoming
-a weapon specifically adapted for individual combat at close range.
-Thus, the tendency toward the assertion of individual personality made
-itself felt in warfare and in weapons, just as it did in the State, in
-agriculture, and in the cult of personal gods.
-
-Similar fundamental factors underlie the last great cultural change.
-This we have already touched upon in our discussion of agriculture,
-namely, the _rise of private property_. Following inevitably upon the
-appearance of private property are distinctions in wealth; these lead
-to differences in social position. In the totemic age, the contrasting
-conditions of rich and poor are, on the whole, not in particular
-evidence; even towards the decline of the period, indeed, they are
-only beginning to arise. Every man is the equal of the other. Only
-the chiefs and a small number of the older men have a superior rank.
-This rank, moreover, is not due to property but to the services which
-ability and experience enable them to render, or to the reverence
-which custom metes out to them. It is not until the heroic age that
-a propertied class becomes differentiated from a class owning little
-or nothing. This change is due in an important measure to the folk
-migrations that inaugurate the beginning of the new age. The propertied
-class derives from the victorious conquerors; the original inhabitants
-are without property. In the warfare connected with these migrations,
-slaves are captured; these are employed particularly in the cultivation
-of the soil. Thus, the more aristocratic are exalted by their greater
-possessions above those who have less property. As free individuals,
-however, both of these classes are superior to the slaves, who,
-similarly to the animals used in agriculture, are themselves regarded
-as the possession of the free and the rich.
-
-Bound up with these social distinctions is the _division of labour_
-which now arises. The landowner no longer himself manufactures the
-tools which he needs or the weapons with which he goes to war. A class
-of artisans is formed, consisting partly of those who have little
-property, and partly of slaves. This differentiation of labour leads
-to _two_ phenomena which long continue to influence the development of
-culture. I refer to _trade_ and _colonization_. The former consists
-in the transmission of the products of labour; the latter, in the
-migration of a part of the people itself into distant places, where the
-same conditions that led to the founding of the mother State result in
-daughter States. In the totemic age, there were no colonies. Extensive
-as were the wanderings of the Papuans, the Malays, the Polynesians,
-and of some of the American and African tribes, these peoples never
-established colonies; moreover, the group which settled in distant
-places always lost its connection with the mother group. True, new
-living conditions were sought and found, and, through mixture with the
-native populations, new races were produced. Nevertheless, it was not
-until the political age that those parts of a particular people which
-settled down in foreign lands continued to retain a consciousness of
-connection with the mother race.
-
-Of the two above-mentioned elements of the newer culture, commerce
-naturally preceded colonization. Of all civilized peoples, the
-Semitic race was the first to open up great channels of trade.
-Phoenician commerce dates back to the earliest records of history.
-Even the Mycenian graves of Greece contain gold jewelry of Phoenician
-workmanship. Spacially, the trade relations of the ancient Phoenicians
-extended over the whole of the known Occident. It is characteristic
-of the Semitic race, however, that they rarely undertook actual
-colonization. Trade and all that is connected with it, the industrial
-ardour necessary to supply the objects of trade and to exchange them
-for grain and other natural products, has always been their chosen
-sphere. The Indo-Germanic races, on the other hand, have naturally
-inclined to colonization from early times on. In the foremost rank
-were the Greeks, with their colonies in Thrace, Asia Minor, Southern
-Italy, and Sicily. These colonial groups, moreover, always retained
-their connection with the mother people. Thus, the earliest culture of
-the Greeks was that of the colonies in Asia Minor. Later, the colonies
-of southern Italy exercised a strong reaction on the mother country
-in science and art. It was not until relatively late that the highest
-cultural development of the mother country followed upon that of these
-outposts of Greek culture.
-
-
-
-3. THE DEVELOPMENT OF POLITICAL SOCIETY.
-
-
-The fundamental characteristics of totemic society appear to be
-purely a product of nature. This is especially true of totemic tribal
-organization. Its simple regularity and the constant recurrence
-of essentially the same characteristics are the natural result of
-original conditions of life that were universally prevalent. A
-horde split up into two halves. In the simplest cases, such as we
-have noticed in our account of the Australians, tribal organization
-remained limited to this dual division. The condition that brought
-about this organization arose as soon as a horde that spoke the same
-language spread out over a fairly broad territory. The same process
-of division might then repeat itself in the case of each of the
-two halves. This gave rise to a clan organization of four or eight
-divisions, as found among most of the Australian tribes, and frequently
-also in Melanesia. Such an organization was developed also by the
-original inhabitants of North America, although the totemic basis here
-degenerated and became essentially an external form. Totemic tribal
-organization is unquestionably a phenomenon that arises with immanent
-necessity; indeed, one might almost say that its appearance involves
-no co-operation on the part of man himself. The division takes place
-of itself; it is a result of the natural conditions underlying the
-propagation and growth of society.
-
-From the very beginning of the heroic age on, the development of
-political society gave rise to phenomena that were fundamentally
-different from those of earlier times. The irreconcilability of this
-fact with the view, still held by historians and philosophers, that
-the State represents the earliest form of an ordered community life,
-is evident. Such theories were possible only when the whole of totemic
-culture was as yet a _terra incognita_. Totemic tribal organization
-cannot possibly be interpreted as an incomplete and undeveloped form
-of the State. Rather is it true that totemic and political societies
-are completely different in kind. Essentially different characteristics
-and conditions of origin demarcate them from one another, even
-though there are certain hybrid forms, representing primarily a
-partial survival of older tribal customs within the newly established
-political society. Now, in so far as mental history always involves
-a regular order of development, one would, of course, be justified
-in maintaining that human society also necessarily eventuates in the
-State--that is, in a political society. Indeed, this may perhaps be
-the meaning of Aristotle's statement that man is a "political animal."
-This statement may be interpreted to refer to a _predisposition_ rather
-than to an inherited characteristic. Nevertheless, Aristotle's view
-that the State gradually developed out of the family and the village
-community is in contradiction with the actual facts. To read back a
-tendency toward political development into the very beginnings of
-human society, moreover, results in a failure to give proper emphasis
-to those essential differences which distinguish the great periods of
-this development--differences which at the crucial points assume the
-form of antitheses. Furthermore, we must not overlook the fact that
-there are peoples who have even as yet not progressed beyond totemic
-tribal organization and who will very possibly never advance to the
-formation of a State, particularly in case this depends upon their
-own initiative. On the other hand, it is doubtless to be assumed that
-those peoples who later acquired a political organization at one time
-possessed a totemic tribal structure. The higher stage of political
-organization, however, obviously differs fundamentally from that
-which preceded it. The older motives have been superseded by such as
-are connected with the great folk migrations and tribal fusions, and
-with the changes consequent upon them. True, when the time was ripe,
-these migrations and fusions of peoples came to pass with the same
-necessity as did the original division of the primitive horde into
-two halves. Nevertheless, a new set of conditions became operative.
-These, of course, arose in a regular course of development out of the
-most primitive modes of life, and yet they were not directly derived
-from them. The creative power characteristic of all mental activity
-here manifested itself, not in the performance of miracles, but in a
-constant engenderment of new motives out of the interaction of existing
-motives with changing external conditions of life. In consequence
-of this constant change of motives and of existing conditions, even
-totemic culture made numerous attempts in the direction of political
-organization. Such steps were taken particularly by the semi-cultural
-peoples of America, who possess a relatively high civilization. It is
-precisely in the case of these peoples that it is instructive to notice
-the contrast between this political tendency and the original tribal
-organization.
-
-The difference between the two fundamental forms of society, the
-totemic and the political, is most strikingly evident in the case of
-their most external characteristic--namely, in the _numbers_ according
-to which society as a whole, as well as in its parts, is organized
-and divided. These numbers are the expression of inner motives; hence
-they form a basis from which we may draw conclusions concerning the
-latter. In the case of totemic tribal organization, these motives are
-apparently very simple; natural expansion over a broader territory
-leads to separation into groups, and this of itself gives rise to the
-customary division into two, four, and eight parts. How different
-and more complicated from its very beginnings is the organization of
-political society! Here also the development proceeds according to
-law, and yet there is not a constant recurrence of the same motive as
-is in the case of totemic tribal organization. On the contrary, we
-find a continuous fluctation between contradictory phenomena, and the
-frequent appearance of new motives. Early, and still partly legendary,
-tradition tells us of an organization of society on the basis of the
-number _twelve_. This mode of organization seems to have emanated
-from the Babylonians. They were the people who first attempted to
-govern human affairs in accordance with celestial phenomena. These
-they observed, not in the unsystematic, imaginative, mythological
-manner of the natural peoples of Polynesia and America, but with the
-aid of astronomical instruments. True, the science of the Babylonians
-was also still based on mythological foundations. These mythological
-features, however, were combined with the idea of an all-embracing,
-divine rule of law. The endeavour to find this law and order in the
-starry sky, the greatest and most sublime sight that the human eye
-may behold, resulted in observations that were scientific and exact.
-Thus, the union of the two ideas led with a sort of inner necessity
-to the acceptance of the number twelve as a norm. The application of
-this norm to human relations was a direct result of the belief that
-it was of divine origin. The Babylonian calendar, whose fundamental
-principles, in spite of numerous reforms, have retained their authority
-even down to the present, was the first to emphasize the principle of
-bringing the courses of the sun and moon into an ordered numerical
-relation for the purpose of reckoning time. Taking as their point of
-departure the position of the sun at the vernal equinox, and following
-the movements of the moon until the sun returned to the same position,
-the Babylonians found that twelve revolutions of the moon were
-equivalent to one of the sun. While this observation is in reality,
-of course, only approximately true, to the first astronomers it might
-have appeared sufficiently exact to be regarded as the law of a divine
-world order. Thus, the year came to be divided into twelve months;
-and, since the moon presents four phases in each month, first quarter,
-full moon, last quarter, and new moon--an observation which long
-antedates astronomical calculation--the month was at once divided into
-four parts. Since the month has approximately twenty-eight days, the
-result was a _week_, comprising _seven days_. This number, therefore,
-was not, as has sometimes been erroneously assumed, derived from the
-seven planets. Rather is it true, conversely, that the number of the
-planets was, with a certain arbitrariness, first fixed at seven after
-this number, as well as twelve, had come to be regarded as _sacred_,
-because of its relation to the movements of the sun and moon. These
-numbers were believed to be written by the gods themselves in flaming
-letters on the sky. To the Babylonian, the sky furnished a revelation
-of the laws that should govern terrestrial life. The number twelve,
-especially, was adopted as the basis of the organization of human
-society. Of this oldest form of division, however, only meagre and
-occasional survivals have remained. We may refer to the legendary
-twelve tribes of pre-exilic Israel--later a source of much difficulty
-to Talmudic scholars, inasmuch as these tribes are not to be found in
-history--and also to the twelve gods of Greece, the twelve Apostles,
-etc. But the number twelve has not merely left its traces in legend;
-it has also inscribed itself in the records of history. Thus, the
-Athenian population originally comprised twelve divisions, there being
-four clans (_phyles_), each of which was composed of three _phratries_.
-Similarly, the colonial territory of the Greeks in Asia Minor is said
-to have included twelve Ionic cities. Moreover, even in later times,
-the Amphictyonic League, which undertook the protection of the Delphic
-oracle, consisted of twelve amphictyons, though this, it is true, was
-also connected with the division of time, each of the twelve tribal
-groups being entrusted with the guardianship of the shrine for one
-month in the year. With few unimportant exceptions, however, the number
-twelve, which was at one time probably very widely regnant, has lost
-its influence. Its place in the organization of society as well as
-in the regulation of other aspects of human life has been taken by a
-numerical system that still dominates our entire culture--the _decimal_
-system. Even prior to the age of Columbus, the decimal system made its
-appearance in certain more civilized parts of the Western world where
-the duodecimal system was never known. That the former originated
-independently in different places, is rendered all the more likely by
-the fact that even primitive man used his ten fingers as an aid in
-counting, in spite of the fact that he had not as yet formed words for
-numbers greater than three or four. But, however natural this method
-of counting may be, its application to the organization of the group
-and the division of peoples nevertheless represents a _deliberately
-adopted_ plan. If possible, this is even more true here than in the
-case of the duodecimal system. We are now face to face with the wide
-difference that separates political society from totemic tribal
-organization. In developing on the principle of dual division, the
-latter resembles a natural process which runs its own course apart from
-any operation of conscious intention, even though directly influenced,
-of course, by the general conditions of human life. The organization
-of society according to the number ten, on the other hand, can be
-interpreted only as an intentional act. Hence history not infrequently
-brings this form of organization into direct association with the names
-of individual lawgivers, with Clisthenes of Athens or Servius Tullius
-of Rome. No doubt, a basis for this new order had been prepared by the
-general conditions of a society which had progressed beyond the totemic
-stage. Its systematic introduction, however, and the series of decimal
-subdivisions that ensued, are only conceivable as a legislative act
-emanating from a personal will. In the formation of social groups, no
-less than in the classification and enumeration of external objects
-of nature, there may at times have been some vacillation of choice
-between the duodecimal and the decimal systems. In its application
-to human society, however, the decimal system finally prevailed.
-Indeed, the simple means of counting afforded by our ten fingers
-supplanted the system suggested by the firmament in every field of
-use, except in connection with celestial phenomena themselves and with
-the reckoning of time, which was directly based on the observation
-of these phenomena. That the victory of the decimal principle was
-due merely to the practical necessity of choosing the principle that
-was simplest and most convenient, is shown by the fact that ten was
-never a sacred number, as was twelve. It has a purely terrestrial and
-human origin. In the field of the practical necessities of life, man
-was victorious over the gods. Perhaps, therefore, the organization
-of society on the decimal principle reflects also the triumph of the
-secular State over theocracy. The decimal principle likewise exercised
-a certain influence upon the division of time, and it is surely not
-accidental that such influence coincides with epochs that are strongly
-characterized by a secularization of human interests. As early as
-the sixth century B.C., the great political organizer of Athens,
-Clisthenes, made an attempt to divide the year into ten months instead
-of twelve. The attempt miscarried, just as did the analogous one on
-the part of the first French Republic to introduce a week of ten days.
-As a matter of fact, objective measurements of time are derived from
-the heavens and not from man. On the other hand, our measurement of
-terrestrial spaces and our grouping of populations depend entirely upon
-ourselves, and therefore naturally conform to human characteristics.
-In these cases, it is the decimal system that is used. In view of the
-fact that the number ten was deliberately adopted, this number has been
-thought to represent an idea that emanated from a single source. Since
-the organization effected by Clisthenes and that of Servius Tullius in
-Rome fall approximately within the same century, it has been believed
-that in these cases, especially, we may assume this fundamental idea
-of division to have been borrowed. The very extensive distribution
-of the decimal system, however, militates against the probability of
-this supposition. Thus, the Book of Exodus no longer speaks of the
-legendary twelve tribes of Israel but tells of only _ten_ tribes. We
-likewise hear of groups of one hundred, and of more extensive groups
-consisting of one thousand. These divisions also recur among the
-Germanic peoples, and in the far-distant realm of the Peruvian Incas.
-Among the latter, however, there are also distinct traces of a totemic
-tribal organization that antedated the invasion of the Incas. This was
-the foundation upon which the Inca kings and their officials finally
-reared an organization consisting of groups of ten, one hundred, and
-one thousand--indeed, the latter were even brought together to form
-groups of ten thousand. In certain cases, such systems may perhaps
-have been introduced from without or may, in part, have been acquired
-through imitation. Nevertheless, the supposition that they all
-emanated from a single region is doubtless just as improbable as is the
-view that the decimal system in general had but a single origin. This
-new grouping of the population is closely bound up with the conditions
-of political society. It is dependent upon _two_ motives, which, though
-not universally operative at first, became so the very moment that
-political society took its rise. The first motive is of a subjective
-nature. It consists in an increased facility in the use of the decimal
-mode of counting, as a result of which larger groups, consisting of
-multiples of ten, are formed: besides the single group of ten, it
-must have become possible to conceive of groups of one hundred, one
-thousand, and, in rare cases, even of one hundred thousand. The other
-motive is objective in character. There are changes in the external
-conditions of life such as to demand more comprehensive and at the same
-time more highly organized divisions than prevailed in the natural
-tribal organization of the preceding age. In two distinct directions
-does the decimal system prove readily applicable. One is in the
-distribution of landed property. With the appearance of plough-culture,
-land gradually came to be largely converted into personal property.
-It was all the more necessary, therefore, for the individual to
-unite with others for the sake of protection and aid. Thus arose the
-mark-community. This naturally centred about that part of the territory
-which, because it was not put under the plough but was reserved
-for common use as well as common care, temporarily remained common
-property--namely, the pasture and woodland. Thus, the _mark-community_
-was inevitable: it resulted from the new method of cultivating the
-soil, which brought with it a combination of personal property with
-common ownership. The size of the community was, of course, determined
-by the relation which these two forms of ownership sustained to each
-other, being dependent upon the fact that the amount of common property
-had to correspond with the number of individual owners who shared its
-use. The right proportion of these two sorts of property could be
-determined only by experience and reflection. Once ascertained, it was
-but natural to adopt this proportion more generally, in connection with
-more extensive groups of people. Here the decimal organization into
-groups of tens and hundreds, to which subjective influences naturally
-tended, promised to be convenient also from the standpoint of objective
-conditions.
-
-Independently of other factors the mark-community might have permitted
-certain diversities in size. The groups were rendered uniform, however,
-through the influence of another organization, whose divisions, on
-the one hand, were necessarily identical with the mark-communities
-but, on the other hand, possessed by their very nature a strong
-inherent tendency toward regularity of size. I refer to the _military
-organization_, which was created by the political society in the
-interest of self-protection. In the early part of the heroic period,
-the individual champion was doubtless of such pre-eminent importance
-that the masses formed but a somewhat unorganized background. Homer
-presents such a picture, though his account is perhaps not so much
-a faithful representation of actual conditions as the result of the
-individualizing tendency of poetic narrative. But just as the masses
-very soon gain greater prominence in political life, so also do they
-in warfare. This encourages tactical organization. At this stage
-of political and military development, therefore, companies of one
-hundred, and soon afterwards groups of one thousand, are formed, and
-are organized as the chief divisions of the army. That these groups be
-always of approximately equal size is required by military tactics;
-that the group of one hundred is the tactical unit of which the other
-divisions are composed, is due to the circumstance that such a group
-is not too large to permit of being directed by a single leader; that
-the number is an even one hundred results solely from the tendency
-toward decimal enumeration. Since the political society is composed of
-individuals who are, as a rule, both mark-associates and companions
-in war, the two groups coalesce. The distribution of property and
-territorial and military organization are the determining factors in
-political society.
-
-Political society thus acquires a new basis. The conditions determining
-its character are very different from those that underlie totemic
-tribal organization. Quite naturally, therefore, the tribal system
-disappears with the rise of the State; it is at best but fragments
-of it that survive in names, cult-alliances, or in bits of custom.
-On the other hand, the new organization exercises an influence upon
-all the relations of life. In part, it effects changes in existing
-institutions; in part, it creates new institutions, which unite to
-give the political age its characteristic stamp. We have spoken of
-the peaceful arts of agriculture, which provide for the maintenance
-of society, and of the military organization, reared upon agriculture
-to assure safety and protection from without. There are primarily
-_three_ additional features that characterize political society,
-especially at its inception. The first of these is a _reorganization
-of the family_. The other two are genuinely new creations, if we
-except certain sporadic beginnings that occur in the transitional
-culture. They consist, on the one hand, in the _differentiation of
-classes and of occupations_--both of which arise in one and the same
-course of development--and, on the other, in the _foundation of
-cities_. Doubtless this order of sequence also approximately indicates
-the successive steps in the establishment of the new political
-organization. The reorganization of the family inaugurates this
-development; it is terminated by the founding of cities, for cities are
-the centres from which the management of the State is conducted and
-which mediate intercourse between the separate regions; following upon
-the former and preceding the latter, is the differentiation of classes
-and of occupations--a result of property conditions and of military
-organization.
-
-
-
-4. FAMILY ORGANIZATION WITHIN POLITICAL SOCIETY.
-
-
-
-Wherever primitive man has been protected against foreign influences,
-as we have seen, he apparently always lives in monogamy. This mode
-of marriage is continued in the totemic age, and is the fundamental
-mode from which all others are deviations. These deviations we found
-to be the two forms of polygamy--polyandry and polygyny. In the
-presence of these various marriage practices, firmly established
-family bonds are impossible. Striking evidence of the recedence of
-the family as compared with the social bond, is offered by the men's
-club, that widely prevalent institution of the totemic age. True, the
-individual member of the men's club may have his own wife who lives
-in her particular hut, but there is no common life of husband and
-wife such as is essential for a true family. In certain cases, of
-course, marriage conditions approximate somewhat more closely to a
-true family life, yet the development is hindered by the overshadowing
-polygyny. But the beginning of the political age marks the rise of a
-new form of monogamy. The _enlarged monogamous family_, the so-called
-ancient or joint family, makes its appearance. The joint family,
-which is characteristic of the heroic era, takes the place of the
-clan. Though the latter also survives for a time, it more and more
-loses its importance and finally disappears altogether. Now the clan,
-as well as the joint family, is composed of individuals of the same
-ancestry--that is, of blood relations, in the wider sense--even though,
-in exceptional cases, it also includes members of other clans or even
-tribal strangers. The recedence of the clan in favour of the joint
-family must therefore be regarded as a process in which a limited
-number of closer blood relatives separate from the clan and gradually
-attain the dominant influence within society. Such a development
-presupposes first of all a sharper demarcation of the individual
-family. Hence the joint family directly impresses one as being an
-extension of the individual family. As a rule, for example, a joint
-family includes _three_ generations: father, son, and grandchild.
-This series of generations terminates with the third, because the
-oldest male member retains the authority over the joint family only
-so long as there is no generation younger than grandchildren. Though
-a great-grandfather is honoured as the oldest member of the family,
-the authority over the joint family passes down to the son who has
-become a grandfather. Moreover, nature allows such cases as this but
-rarely. The life-span of three generations is approximately a century;
-and the average life of man is such that it happens but seldom that
-those who are living at any one time will outspan a century. Thus,
-the fact that the ancient family comprised three generations may
-be due to the natural limit of life, which does not seem to have
-changed essentially since the beginnings of civilization. The family
-organization under discussion, therefore, is characterized, in the
-first place, by monogamy; secondly, by the dominance of the man within
-the single family; and thirdly, by the inclusion of three generations
-under the authority of the oldest member of the family. This third
-characteristic has frequently caused the typical joint family to be
-called the '_patriarchal_ family.' Since it was true even of the clan
-that the older men exercised the decisive influence, the clan may
-be regarded as preparing the way for a patriarchal order. Such clan
-alliances, for example, as the Germanic kinship groups, in which the
-fact of the blood relationship of the members receives particularly
-strong emphasis, form a sort of transition between the clan and
-the joint family. In the joint family, it is no longer the older
-generation as such that is dominant, but the _oldest individual_.
-This change, as a result of which authority becomes vested in an
-individual, is paralleled by that which leads to individual rulership
-within the State. Thus, totemic tribal organization is doubly exposed
-to disintegration, from below and from above. On the one hand, the
-patriarchal joint family undermines the leadership of the clan-elders.
-On the other hand, the clans, together with the tribes whose divisions
-they form, are shorn of their power; they become fused into one
-group which, with the rise of political society, passes under the
-rulership of a single chieftain. It is particularly important to
-notice that, when the joint family emerges and clan organization is
-consequently dissolved, one of the most important functions of the
-more restricted clan alliances, so far as concerns the inner life
-of society, passes from the clan to the joint family. I refer to
-_blood-revenge_. Not until it underwent many changes did retribution
-come to be an affair of the State. Thus, the patriarchal family brings
-to completion a twofold series of changes, whose gradual beginnings
-may be discerned as early as the previous age. These are, in the first
-place, the displacement of maternal descent by _paternal descent_,
-and, secondly, the development of _chieftainship_. The latter at once
-concludes and annuls totemic tribal organization. The motives to the
-former show how untrue to the real nature of the difference between
-the two social institutions it is to speak of the contrast between
-mother_-right_ and father_-right_, or even between maternal _rule_
-and paternal _rule_, instead of referring to the transition as one
-from maternal _descent_ to paternal _descent_. Mother-right is to be
-found at most in a limited sense, as applying to certain rights of the
-kinship community and, connected with these, at a later time, to the
-inheritance of property; mother-_rule_ never occurs, or at most is an
-abnormal and exceptional phenomenon having scarcely any connection
-with maternal descent as such. The motives to maternal descent, as we
-have seen, are totally unrelated to the question of dominance within
-the family; they are the direct result of a separation of the sexes,
-which manifests itself likewise in the men's clubs. Paternal descent,
-on the other hand, is from the very outset based on paternal rule. In
-the form of father-right, paternal rule prevails even in the case of
-the primitive monogamous family. Its original source is the natural
-physical superiority of man; later, it derives its main strength
-from the fact--reflected also in the origin of chieftainship--that
-the general affairs of peace, as well as of war with hostile tribes,
-become subject to the authority of leaders. This latter factor comes
-to reinforce the former at that stage of development, particularly,
-which is characterized by the dissolution of totemic institutions and
-the re-emergence of the monogamous family. It is this change, together
-with the growing influence of chieftainship, that marks the beginning
-of the political age. Thus, the restoration of the monogamous family
-came as a result of political organization. The general course of
-development was the same everywhere, though the particular steps
-varied greatly. It was especially in connection with the rise of the
-patriarchal joint family, which is intermediate between the kinship
-group and the individual family, that obstructing influences sometimes
-manifested themselves. In such cases, the course of development was at
-once deflected directly towards the individual family. A patriarchal
-family organization of a sharply defined character appeared very early
-among many of the Semitic tribes, particularly among the Israelites.
-Of the Indo-Germanic peoples, it was especially the Romans who long
-preserved the patriarchal system; among the Greeks and the Germanic
-peoples, it had already disappeared in early times in favour of the
-single family. That which preserved the joint family was probably the
-force of tradition, coupled with reverence of age; the single family
-reflects a sense of freedom on the part of individuals. This brings out
-clearly the essential difference between the original monogamy, which
-was due to natural instinct and the simple conditions of primitive
-life, and the monogamy that was reinstituted as a result of the new
-tendencies of political society. In the former case, no progress was
-made beyond the natural starting-point, namely, the single family;
-in the latter case, the joint family mediated the transition between
-the dissolution of clans and the establishment of political society.
-Inasmuch as the acts of primitive man were largely determined by
-instincts, the original monogamy is not to be interpreted as conformity
-to a norm. The reason for the almost universal occurrence of monogamous
-marriage is to be found in the uniformity of the conditions of life
-and of the social impulses. The monogamy of the political age, on the
-other hand, is confronted by all those conflicting tendencies which
-had previously given rise to the various polygamous marriage-unions
-of totemic society. _One_ of these modes of marriage especially,
-namely, _polygyny_, finds favourable conditions of development in
-the new political order. It receives fresh impetus as a result of
-that very dominance of man which brought about the transition from
-the maternal descent of earlier times to paternal descent. Polyandry
-and group-marriage, on the other hand, have by this time disappeared,
-either entirely or, at least, with rare exceptions. Moreover,
-the character of polygyny has changed. This is apparent from the
-distinction between _chief wife_ and _secondary wife_--a distinction
-which has, indeed, an analogy in certain phenomena of the totemic
-period, but which, as a result of the conditions of public life,
-now rests upon an entirely different basis. The chief wife is taken
-from one's own tribe; the secondary wife belongs to a strange tribe,
-being, in many cases, a slave captured in war. Thus, these changes in
-polygyny reflect the warlike character of the age, as well as a growing
-tendency toward a return to monogamy. On the other hand, however, we
-also discern certain tendencies of a retrogressive nature. These occur
-particularly within Islamitic culture, whenever the difference between
-chief and secondary wives is either annulled or is subordinated to
-the will of the husband. Such deviations from the general trend of
-development are usually attributed to the influence of personalities.
-It is not impossible, however, that they are due in this case to the
-fact that Islamism spread to peoples of totemic culture. But in other
-departments of life also, remnants and traces of totemic culture have
-passed down to the heroic era. A striking example appears in the case
-of the Spartan State. The fact that the men lived in the city, engaged
-in military drill and political affairs, while the women, together with
-the slaves, cultivated the fields outside of the city, clearly betrays
-the influence of the ancient institution of the men's club.
-
-
-
-5. THE DIFFERENTIATION OF CLASSES.
-
-
-We have seen that the family assumes a new status within political
-society. It comes to be a compact unit, contrasting markedly with the
-groups composed of the same sex--in particular, the men's clubs--that
-dominated the preceding period. The _differentiation of classes_ was
-a no less potent factor in the development of political society. Its
-beginnings, no doubt, go back to the declining period of totemic tribal
-institutions, but only in the political age does it become an important
-influence in social organization. This is due to _two_ conditions,
-which are themselves the direct result of the folk migrations that
-mark the beginning of the political age. The first of these conditions
-consists in changes affecting property rights; the other, in the
-subjection of the native populations by the more energetic immigrants.
-The origin of property, as is well known, is even to-day generally
-traced, from an abstract juristic point of view, to the occupancy of an
-ownerless piece of land. This theory, however, is too abstract to be
-generally true. Above all, it presupposes the existence of ownerless
-land. But this is seldom to be found. Even when a migrating people
-occupies new lands, it, as a rule, conquers a territory that was
-previously in the possession of other tribes. If, therefore, we have in
-mind the sort of property that was most significant for the development
-of political culture, we should trace its origin to an _expropriation
-of earlier owners_ rather than to an occupation of ownerless land.
-Contradicting the abstract theory, moreover, is the fact that it is
-not the individual who becomes the owner of property through such
-occupation, but the _entire tribe_, the people that has immigrated and
-has dispossessed the original inhabitants. Property, therefore, was
-originally _common property_. True, even in early times, it was no
-longer all of the land that was held in common ownership. Nevertheless,
-the conditions of ownership that have emerged in the course of the
-development of political society give unmistakable evidence of having
-originated in common ownership. Even up to fairly recent times,
-woodland and meadow have remained, either entirely or in part, common
-property; usually there is also a special temple-property set apart
-for purposes of cult. Everything goes to show that these cases are to
-be regarded as remnants of a common property that was at one time more
-comprehensive, and not as the result of joining pieces of property
-that were at one time owned by individuals. The latter hypothesis is
-contradicted by the whole direction of development of private property.
-Interacting with changes in property rights are racial differences.
-The conquering immigrant peoples subjugate the native races or
-crowd them back. All the cultural peoples that possess a political
-organization are the product of folk mixtures. The subjugation of an
-original population may lead to varying results, depending on the
-racial difference between the peoples involved. If this difference
-is very great and the numerical relation makes the absorption of the
-one by the other impossible, there develops a distinction of castes,
-as in India, where the lower castes are clearly distinguishable from
-the higher, even as to physical characteristics. The situation is
-radically different where there is less divergence between the two
-populations. In such cases, racial distinctions do not occur, or at
-least only to a small extent; in their stead, we find differences with
-respect to property and power. The conquering race becomes a privileged
-class; those who are subjugated form a class of dependents who
-possess fewer rights. There is no impassable barrier between the two
-classes, however, as there is in the caste system. The more a fairly
-unitary folk-type emerges from the racial fusions, and the more other
-factors than descent come into prominence--such as common interest in
-internal order and external defence, or a remarkable personal ability
-on the part of individual leaders of the lower classes--the greater
-the tendency, on the one hand, towards the abolition of traditional
-differences, and, on the other, towards an increased recognition of
-personal achievement as the basis of social standing. Such social
-struggles as occurred in the history of Greece and Rome from their
-early days on, are particularly illuminating as regards this point, for
-they exhibit clearly the motives that were originally involved--motives
-that later everywhere become more complicated.
-
-From the very outset these motives exert a potent influence on property
-relations. The occupied territory first becomes the common property
-of the separate divisions of the immigrant tribe. The individual,
-however, vies with his tribal associates for the possession of the
-territory, and the new agricultural conditions connected with the
-introduction of cattle and of the plough favour division of the land.
-In addition to the superior ability of an immigrant race, it is its
-superior civilization that assures to it the supremacy over the native
-races. This superior civilization, however, involves a strong tendency
-toward individual industry, and thus toward the differentiation
-of personal property from common property. The success which the
-individual owner enjoys in his labour develops in him a consciousness
-of freedom, and this leads him to compete with his tribal associates
-both in the acquisition of property and in the attainment of power
-over the native population. Thus, the division of common property is
-succeeded by an inequality of personal property--an inequality which,
-from the very beginning, shows an unconquerable tendency to increase.
-This tendency is fostered by the fact that political organization
-makes it possible for individuals to exercise a certain control
-over common affairs. Property considerations become more and more
-decisive as regards class distinctions. In addition to descent from
-privileged ancestors, it is property that gives the individual his
-social position. An individual belonging to a people that at one time
-formed a class without rights, may rise to the ranks of the privileged
-classes, or, if the significance attached to birth continues to be
-maintained, he, together with those like him, may at any rate attain
-to an independent influence in public life. Property, however, not
-only affords increased rights; it also entails greater obligations.
-The wealthy possess a better military equipment, and are therefore
-enlisted in the more efficient, but also the more dangerous, divisions
-of the army. They are entrusted with leadership in war as well as
-with authority in times of peace. Individual initiative makes itself
-felt, and this, coupled with the opportunity for the exercise of such
-initiative, causes political development to appear, from an external
-point of view, as a series of separate voluntary acts on the part of
-individual personal leaders. This, however, is not the real truth of
-the situation so far as its inner motives are concerned. The heroic age
-is the epoch in which the action of the masses, impulsive and under
-the sway of environmental conditions, is more and more subjected to
-the direction of individual leaders who have become clearly conscious
-of the tendencies inherent in the social body. For this reason the
-heroic age is pre-eminently the _era of personalities_. Just as the
-personal god is dominant in mythology and religious cult, so the human
-personality plays the leading rôle in the State, and particular,
-outstanding individuals determine the conditions that regulate external
-life.
-
-As personality comes into prominence, however, conflicts inevitably
-arise between individuals who feel themselves called to be the vehicles
-of this personal power. Political society was not only created by war,
-but it also continues to remain a theatre where conflicts are fought
-with changing fortunes. Together with the effort to abolish class
-distinctions, moreover, there gradually comes a demand for equality
-of rights. As a result, the influence of dominating personalities,
-even though never eliminated, is more and more subject to changing
-conditions. Thus regarded, the general course of events is indicated
-by reference to _two_ phenomena: firstly, by the development of the
-State and of the judicial system, and, secondly, by the transformations
-which the character of the hero undergoes in the course of history. The
-first of these phenomena will presently be discussed in some detail;
-the second, which puts its stamp upon the particular periods of history
-in question, consists in the gradual displacement of the warrior-hero
-by the hero of peace. Even legend indicates that this is the sequence
-of the qualities that are supremely prized in personality. Thus, in the
-legend of the kings of Rome, the warlike Romulus, founder of the city,
-is followed by Numa Pompilius, the organizer of religious cult, who is
-succeeded in due time by the secular lawgiver, Servius Tullius. The
-warrior-hero appears first; he suggests the origin of political society
-in warfare. The founder of deity cults is his immediate successor. The
-lawgiver, or the political hero in the true sense of the word, stands
-at the zenith of the age. The warrior initiates, whereas the legislator
-completes the organization of society. Then commences the age of
-citizenship, which no longer entertains a hero-ideal as such but,
-instead, prizes civic virtues. On this plane of culture, the general
-demands of political life and of cult are augmented by the particular
-duties which grow out of the position which the individual occupies
-within society. The position itself is conditioned primarily by the
-rise of _differences of vocation._
-
-
-
-6. THE DIFFERENTIATION OF VOCATIONS.
-
-
-The above discussion will already have indicated the general
-significance of the differentiation of vocations in the development of
-political society. While the origin of classes is coincident with the
-rise of the State, separate vocations appear only at its zenith. At
-first there were no distinctions of vocation. The pursuits of war and
-politics were common to all free men; and, while admitting of class
-distinctions, they allowed no vocational differences. The priesthood
-alone represented a class which followed a specific vocation, while
-also engaging in other occupations, particularly in politics. The
-earliest forms of specialized vocations were foreshadowed even in
-the totemic age. In the heroic period, they merely adapt themselves
-to the new social order resulting from the rise of a ruling class
-and the consequent class distinctions. Under the influence of deity
-cults, moreover, the social position of the priesthood changes, as
-do also its vocational practices. The transformations in cult are an
-important factor in elevating the class and the profession concerned
-in its administration, securing for them a more or less important, and
-in some cases a dominant, influence upon political life. In contrast
-with this, all forms of human labour not connected with politics and
-warfare are _degraded_. This results in occupational differences,
-which are henceforth closely bound up with class distinctions. The
-depreciation of which we speak, however, is not of sudden occurrence,
-nor does it appear everywhere to the same extent. The conditions that
-give rise to political society also involve a participation in the
-pursuits of politics and warfare on the part of the freeman, who, as an
-agriculturist, breeds his own domestic animals and guides his plough
-over the fields. Due to these same conditions, moreover, agriculture
-maintains a respected position even in later times, partly, no doubt,
-as a result of the fact that the free farmer continues to enjoy the
-privilege of participating in political and military affairs. Various
-accessory vocations come to be sundered out from the tasks of the early
-agriculturist, who, originally, himself manufactured the implements
-required for his work and was thus the primitive artisan. Political
-activity and the equally esteemed military vocation come more and more
-to be given the place of highest honour. The occupation of the farmer
-and that of the wealth-accumulating merchant, however, are also held
-in high regard, doubtless because of the growing desire for property.
-The independent task of the artisan, as well as art--the latter at
-first scarcely distinguishable from artisanship--are either left to the
-dependent population and slaves or, after class distinctions are well
-developed, are given over to the lower class of citizens as occupations
-of less esteem.
-
-But in the case of vocational distinctions, just as in that of class
-differentiation, the process of depreciation is succeeded by a tendency
-toward _equalization_. This is due to a general shift in values.
-The rhapsodist of Homeric times, though welcomed as a guest by the
-superior classes, was not himself regarded by them as a companion
-of equal rank. It is only gradually that the value placed on an art
-becomes transferred to the artist himself. That this occurs is due
-in an important measure to the fact that the arts of outstanding
-significance--gymnastics, poetry, and music--are not practised merely
-by a specific profession, but are also favourite occupations of
-the warrior or the statesman in his hours of leisure. The respect
-accorded the artist is gradually extended to such other arts as
-already constitute vocational labour; as external culture becomes
-more refined, even the artisan wins a growing esteem, through his
-decoration of weapons, implements, and clothing. In the case of the
-arts that require a particularly high degree of vocational training, it
-is significant to note that, in spite of the high estimate placed on
-his product, the artist himself is able to rise but slowly above the
-plane of the mere artisan. Thus, the measure of esteem accorded to the
-arts gradually diminishes, according as we pass from those that spring
-up spontaneously, solely from inner impulse, to those that minister to
-the satisfaction of needs. The immediate cause for this gradation of
-values probably lies in the fact that political activity, which here
-forms the mediating link, is itself of the nature of a free vocation,
-requiring the exercise particularly of mental capacities. For this
-reason, however, the regard in which the various occupations are held
-tends to be equalized according as class distinctions disappear. The
-latter, however, occurs in proportion as all citizens come to acquire
-equal privileges in the exercise of political rights. To the majority,
-indeed, political activity remains but a secondary vocation, being
-overshadowed by the main occupation, which requires the greater amount
-of attention. Because of its political character, however, it is the
-secondary vocation that primarily determines the social position of the
-individual. The fact that all citizens come to participate in political
-activity, therefore, even though failing to equalize the esteem in
-which the various occupations were held, nevertheless caused the
-disappearance of the distinctions in personal status which occupational
-differences originally involved.
-
-
-
-7. THE ORIGIN OF CITIES.
-
-
-The differentiation of classes and vocations is conditioned, in a large
-measure, by a change in the spacial distribution of the population.
-This change is a result of the rise of political society, and comes
-to be the outstanding external characteristic of the State as soon
-as the latter begins to assume definite form. I have in mind the
-_foundation of cities_. In the totemic age, there were no cities,
-but at most fair-sized groups of huts or houses, forming villages.
-These village settlements were all equally independent; they differed
-at most as regards spacial extent. But the city, in its _original_
-form, always exercised control over a smaller or larger stretch of
-territory, consisting either of separate farms or of villages with
-the territory belonging to them. As the seat of political power, the
-city was an infallible indication of the existence of the State. Hence
-it is that those who discuss the original forms of political society
-are not infrequently led to regard State and city as identical. Such
-an identification, however, is not at all justifiable. Even in their
-beginnings the Greek States and the Roman State were not mere city
-States; all that may be said is that the political power was centred
-in the city. This is true, also, of the original city as it existed in
-the Orient and in the ancient civilizations of Mexico and Peru. The
-same characteristic distinguishes the early city from the many later
-sorts of cities that arose in response to the needs of intercourse and
-trade. The original city was the abode of the political and military
-leaders of the people who occupied the new territory and thus formed
-a State. This appears most strikingly in the case of Sparta--the
-State which preserved most fully the features of an earlier form of
-social organization. One might almost be inclined to say that the
-men's club developed by totemic tribal organization was here present
-in the form of a city of men established within a political order.
-But even in Athens and in the other Greek States the city was only
-the seat of the political power, whereas the State embraced the
-adjacent territory as well. The centre of the city, therefore, was
-the castle. This constituted the military defence of the State, and
-was the dwelling of the king or, in republican forms of government,
-of the highest officials. Connected with the castle was the temple
-of the guardian deity of the city. The immediate environment of the
-temple was the meeting-place of those who inhabited the territory
-protected by the castle and its temple. Here they assembled, partly
-for trade and partly for deliberative or popular gatherings. The
-economic and political intercourse which centred about the castle
-fostered the growth of a larger city, inasmuch as numbers of the rural
-inhabitants gradually settled down under the close protection of the
-castle. Directly connected with this development was the separation
-from agriculture of the occupations of art, handicraft, trade, and
-eventually of political office. Because of their enormous extent, the
-great Oriental realms included a number of city centres. Yet even
-here the original conditions maintained themselves, inasmuch as _one_
-of these cities continued to be not only the political seat of the
-State but also the chief centre of cult. The guardian deity of the
-leading city was likewise the guardian deity of the State, and, as
-such, was supreme among the gods. Cult was thus patterned after the
-political order. This influence of the city upon cult was reflected
-in temple construction. The totemic age possessed no cities, and it
-likewise lacked temples. Temples, therefore, are not only indicative
-of deity cult, whose development is bound up with political society,
-but they also signalize the existence of cities. The temple itself was
-characterized by a very rich architecture. In Babylonia it was the
-mighty tower, in Egypt the pair of obelisks at the entrance, which
-proclaimed to the surrounding neighbourhood the dwelling-place of the
-deity and the seat of political power. The two were identical, for it
-was in the name of the guardian deity of the city that the State was
-originally governed and that justice was meted out. In Oriental realms,
-the ruler was the representative of the deity, and the priests were the
-State officials, as well as the devotees of science and art. Tradition,
-together with numerous usages preserved in custom and laws, testify
-to the same original unification of religious and political authority
-in Greece and Rome. Although the State here became secularized at
-a comparatively early time, and art and science likewise freed
-themselves from theocratic dominance, the idea of a guardian deity
-of the city and State was long maintained. It was this that invested
-the secularized legal system with a halo of sanctity. If the course
-of development in Greece and Rome differed from that of the Oriental
-realms, this may be due, in an important measure, to the fact that they
-very early broke up into a considerable number of independent city
-States. Herein, of course, is expressed the character of Indo-Germanic
-peoples. Even in very ancient times they manifested a disposition to
-allow free play to the assertion of the individual personality; this
-differentiates them from the Semitic race, with its strong inclination
-to hold fast to traditional norms. Hence it is that, while the cult
-of the various Greek cities remained practically the same, the cities
-themselves became distinct political communities. The status of the
-Delphic priesthood, in whom this unity of cult very early found its
-expression, was therefore naturally reduced to that of an advisory
-council. In the individual States, the dominance of political interests
-and the struggle for power, which was heightened by the personal
-inter-relationships within the narrow circle of the city, deprived
-the priesthood of all authority except over cult. True, in the case
-of Rome, the original union of political order and religious cult was
-firmer and more permanent, due to the fact that _one_ city early gained
-the supremacy over the other Italian cities and States. And yet, hand
-in hand with the extension of political dominance, went the adoption of
-cults that were previously strange. This led to a number of competing
-priest-associations, none of which could gain the leadership, since all
-alike were but servants of the political power.
-
-Thus, in spite of considerable diversity as to incidental conditions,
-city and State were closely bound up with each other in the development
-of political society. We find no city apart from a State, and it is
-doubtful whether there was a State without a city as the seat and
-centre of its political power. But this correlation obtained only
-during the period of the genesis of States and of the attendant rise
-of the _original_ city. Once States have come into existence, many
-other conditions may lead to the establishment of a community which, as
-regards extent and relative political independence, is of the nature
-of a city. Such phenomena may be referred to as the _secondary_
-foundation of cities; they are possible only on the basis of a
-previously existing political society. An approximation to original
-conditions occurs when a victorious State either establishes cities
-in the conquered provinces, centralizing in them the power over the
-respective territories, or transforms cities that already exist into
-political centres. Occurrences of this sort were frequent during the
-extension of Alexander's world-dominion and at the time of the Roman
-Empire. The same fact may be observed at a later period, in connection
-with the occupation of the Italian cities by the Goths and Lombards.
-The German cities founded during the Middle Ages differ still more
-widely from the original type. These cities first arose as market
-centres, and then gradually acquired political privileges. Thus, the
-process of the original foundation of cities was, as it were, reversed.
-In the latter case, the castle came first and the market followed;
-the mediæval city began as a market and reached its completion with
-the building of a castle. In mediæval times, however, leadership was
-not originally vested in the city but in rulers who occupied isolated
-estates scattered here and there throughout the country. Yet these
-secondary phenomena and their further development do not belong to our
-present problem of the origin of political society.
-
-
-
-8. THE BEGINNINGS OF THE LEGAL SYSTEM.
-
-
-The social regulations which we have thus far considered find their
-consummation in the _legal system_. This possesses no content
-independent of the various social institutions, but merely provides
-certain norms of action with a social sanction. As a result, these
-norms are protected against violation or are designated as regulations
-which, whenever necessary, are defended against violators by the
-use of external force. Thus, the legal system does not involve the
-outright creation of a social order. It consists primarily in the
-singling out, as definite prescriptions, of certain regulations
-that have already arisen in the course of social life, and that are
-for the most part already maintained by custom. The enforcement
-of these regulations is expressly guaranteed by society, and means
-are established whereby this pledge is to be redeemed. Thus, the
-most important social institutions--the family, the classes, the
-vocations, village settlements and cities, and also the relations of
-property, intercourse, and contract, which these involve--were already
-in existence before becoming constituent parts of a legal system.
-Moreover, the advance beyond custom and the settlement of difficulties
-case by case was not made suddenly or, much less, at the same time in
-all regions, but came only very gradually. The formulation of laws did
-not, as a rule, begin in connection with the political community and
-then pass down to the more restricted groups, ending with the single
-individual. On the contrary, law began by regulating the intercourse of
-individuals; later, it acquired authority over family relations, which
-had remained under the shelter of custom for a relatively long period;
-last of all, it asserted itself also over the political order. That
-is to say, the State, which is the social organization from which the
-legal system took its rise, was the very last institution in connection
-with which objective legal forms were developed. We may account for
-this by reference to a factor which played an important rôle from the
-very outset. After the legal system had once grown up out of custom
-and had subjected many of the important fields of the latter to its
-authority, it was able of itself to create regulations, which were
-thus from the very beginning legal prescriptions. Such primarily legal
-regulations arose in connection with conditions in which, frequently,
-the fact that there be some law was of more importance than the precise
-character of the law. But even in these cases the regulations were
-always connected with the larger body of law that was rooted in custom.
-This larger body of law was but supplemented by ordinances that were
-called into being by temporal and cultural conditions.
-
-The transition from custom to law reflects the joint influence of
-_two_ factors, which, particularly at the outset, were themselves
-closely connected. The first of these factors consists in the rise
-of firmly established forms of rulership, which are indicative also
-of the transition leading to _States_; the other is the _religious_
-sanction which was attached to those regulations that were singled out
-by the law from the broader field of custom. Both factors indicate
-that the heroic age properly marks the origin of the legal system,
-even though it be true that all such changes are gradual and that
-occasional beginnings of the legal system, therefore, may be found at
-an earlier period, in connection with the very ancient institution
-of chieftainship. As regards the external social organization and
-the religious life of the heroic age, these are characterized,
-respectively, by the development of strict forms of rulership and by
-the origin of a deity cult. Each of these social phenomena reinforces
-the other. The kingdom of the gods was but the terrestrial State
-projected into an ideal sphere. No less was the development of the
-legal system dependent upon the union of the two factors. Neither the
-external force of the political authority governing the individual nor
-the inner constraint of religious duty sufficed in itself to establish
-the tremendous power characteristic of the legal system from early
-times on. It is true that, at a later period, the feeling that law
-represents a religious duty gave way to the moral law of conscience.
-The latter, however, itself owes its origin to the increasing influence
-of the political authority which is at the basis of the legal system;
-moreover, as an inner motive reinforcing the external compulsion of
-the law, it continued to preserve a similarity to the religious source
-from which it sprang. True, a significant change occurred. During the
-early stages of legal development, the weight of emphasis fell on
-the religious aspect of law, whereas it later more and more shifted
-to the political side. At first, the entire body of law was regarded
-as having been given directly by the deity, as was the case, for
-example, with the Ten Commandments of Moses and with the Israelitic
-Priests' Code, which clothes even the most external modes of life
-in the garb of religious commands. Sometimes a twofold credit is
-given for the introduction of the legal system, in that the one who
-wields the power is regarded as administering justice both in his own
-name and as commissioned by the gods. An illustration of this is the
-Babylonian code of Hammurabi. It is, naturally, when the priests wield
-the authority that the laws are most apt to be ascribed exclusively to
-the gods. The tendency, on the other hand, to give the ruler a certain
-amount of credit for legislative enactments, is greatest whenever the
-ruler occupies also the position of chief priest. The direct impetus to
-such a union of priesthood and political authority is to be found in
-the rise of the legal system itself, for this resulted from a fusion
-of religious and political motives. The idea that the earthly ruler
-is the terrestrial representative of a world-governing deity, or, as
-occurs in extreme cases, that he is the world-governing deity himself,
-is, therefore, a conception that is closely bound up with the rise of
-political society and that receives pregnant expression in the earliest
-forms of the legal system. No trace of such a conception was associated
-with the chiefs of the totemic period. Their position was entirely
-distinct from that of the magicians, the shamans, and the medicine-men,
-who were the original representatives of the priestly class that
-later arose in the age of deity cults. But it is for this very reason
-that the mandates of the totemic chief cannot be said as yet to have
-constituted a legal system; they were commands which were given as
-occasion demanded, and which were determined partly by the will of
-the chief and partly by transmitted customs. Secular and religious
-motives are to be found in similar combination elsewhere, even among
-tribes that are usually regarded as peoples of nature, as, for example,
-particularly those of Polynesia. In cases such as these, however,
-there are present also the beginnings of a legal system, as well as
-its correlates, the fundamentals of a political organization and of
-a deity cult. Whether these are the remnants of a culture brought by
-these migratory peoples from their original Asiatic home, or whether
-they represent an independently achieved culture that has fallen into
-decay, we need not here inquire.
-
-That the development of the legal system is dependent upon the first
-of these phenomena--that is, upon political organization--is directly
-apparent from the fact that the administration of justice in general
-presupposes two sources of authority. Here again the beginnings are to
-be found in the totemic age. During this period, the administration
-of justice was vested, in the first place, in a relatively restricted
-group of the older and experienced men, such as exercised authority
-over the older members of the horde even in pretotemic times. Judicial
-powers were assumed, in the second place, by individual leaders in
-the chase or in war. The authority of the latter, it is true, was
-temporary, frequently shifting with changing circumstances; it was all
-the more effective, however, for the very reason that it was centred
-in single individuals. Now, the initial step in the formation of a
-legal system--which, as already remarked, was at first concerned merely
-with what we would call civil justice--was taken when the quarrels
-of individuals came to be settled in the same way as were matters of
-common concern to the clan or tribe--namely, by the decisions of the
-two long-established authorities, the 'council of elders,' as they
-later continued to be called among many civilized peoples, and the
-individual leader or chieftain. Even in relatively primitive times,
-fellow-tribesmen or clansmen who disagreed as to the ownership of an
-object or perhaps as to whether or not some mutual agreement had been
-kept, and who preferred a peaceful decision to settlement by combat,
-were accustomed to seek the decision of the elders or of a man of
-commanding respect. Thus, these initial stages of legal procedure
-indicate that the earliest judge was an _arbitrator_; he was freely
-selected by the disputants, though he constantly became more firmly
-established in his position as a result both of his authority in
-the general affairs of the tribe and of tradition. We next find the
-_appointed_ judge, who owes his office to political authority, and who
-decides particular controversies, not because he has been asked to do
-so by the parties themselves but 'of right' and as commissioned by
-the State; supported as he is by the political power, his decision has
-compelling force. As soon as the State assumes the function of deciding
-the controversies of individuals, the judge becomes an _official_.
-Indeed, he is one of the first representatives of officialdom. For,
-in the early stages of political organization, all matters other than
-the quarrels of individuals are regulated by ancient customs, except
-in so far as war and the preparation for war involve conditions that
-necessarily place authority of an entirely different sort in the hands
-of particular individuals. Thus, together with the offices of those
-who, though only gradually, come to have charge of the maintenance of
-the military organization even in times of peace, the office of the
-judiciary represents one of the earliest of political creations. In
-it, we find a parallel to the division of power between the ruler and
-a separate council of experienced men, an arrangement that represents
-a legacy from the period of tribal organization, but that only now
-becomes firmly established. The individual judge and the college of
-judges both occur so early that it is scarcely possible to say whether
-either antedated the other. Affecting the development just described
-are two other conditions, capable of bringing about a division of
-judicial authority at an early time. One of these conditions is the
-connection of the state with deity cult, as a result of which the
-secular power is limited by the authority of the priesthood, whose
-chief prerogative comes to be penal justice. The second factor in the
-differentiation of judicial functions consists in the institution of
-chieftainship, one of the two characteristic features of political
-society. Chieftainship involves a tendency towards a delegation of
-the supreme judicial authority to the ruler. This is particularly the
-case during the first stages of political organization, which still
-reflect the fact that the external political power of the chieftain
-grew up out of the conditions attendant upon war. Even though the
-secular judiciary, which originated in the council of elders, or, in
-certain cases, the judicial office of the priest, also continues
-to be maintained, the ruler nevertheless reserves for himself the
-authority over the most important issues. Particularly in doubtful
-cases, in which the ordinary judge has no traditional norms to guide
-his decision, the 'king's court' intervenes in order, if necessary,
-to secure a recognition of the claim of reasonableness. This is
-especially apt to occur in connection with capital crimes. Hence it
-is that, even after penal law has once become a matter of general
-governmental control--which, as a rule, occurs only at a later stage of
-legal development--the final decision in criminal cases usually rests
-with the ruler. Generally, moreover, it is the ruler alone who has
-sufficient power to put an end to the blood-revenge demanded by kinship
-groups. Owing to the fact that, in his capacity of military leader,
-the ruler possesses power over life and death during war with hostile
-tribes, he comes to exercise the same authority in connection also with
-the feuds of his fellow-tribesmen. Modern States have retained a last
-remnant of this power in the monarch's right to pardon, an erratic
-phenomenon of a culture that has long since disappeared.
-
-Thus, the State, as such, possesses an external power which finds
-its most direct expression--just as does the unity of the State--in
-the exercise of judicial authority on the part of the ruler. In the
-beginnings of legal development, however, law always possesses also
-a _religious sanction_. True, the above-mentioned unification of
-the offices of priest and judge or of the authority of priest and
-ruler--the latter of which sometimes occurs in connection with the
-former--may be the result of particular cultural conditions. This,
-however, but indicates all the more forcibly how permanent has been
-the religious sanction of law. Such a sanction is evidenced by the
-words and symbolisms that accompany legal procedure even in the case
-of secular judges and of the relations of individuals themselves. Not
-without significance, for example, is the solemnity manifested in the
-tones of those who are party to a barter, a contract, or an assignment
-of property. Indeed, their words are usually accompanied by express
-confirmations resembling the formulas of prayer and imprecation; the
-gods are invoked as witnesses of the transaction or as avengers of
-broken pledges. Because of the solemnity of the spoken word, speech was
-displaced but slowly by writing. Long after the latter art had been
-acquired, its use continued to be avoided, not only in the case of
-legal formulas, such as the above, but occasionally even in connection
-with more general legal declarations. In the Brahman schools of India,
-for example, the rules of legal procedure, as well as the hymns and
-prayers, were for centuries transmitted purely through memory; we are
-told, moreover, that in ancient Sparta it was forbidden to put the laws
-in writing. To an age, however, which is incapable of conceiving even a
-legal transaction except as a perceptual act, the spoken word by itself
-is inadequate to give the impression of reality. As an indication
-that he has acquired a piece of land, the purchaser lifts a bit of
-soil from the earth, or the vendor tosses a stalk of grain to him--a
-ceremony which is imitated in the case of other objects of exchange and
-which has led to the word 'stipulation' (from the Latin _stipulatio_,
-throwing of a stalk). Another symbol of acquisition is the laying on of
-the hand. Similar to it is the clasp of right hands as a sign of mutual
-agreement. By this act the contracting parties pledge their freedom
-in case they break the promise which they are giving. When the fact
-that the two parties lived at some distance from each other rendered
-the hand clasp impossible, the Germans were accustomed to exchange
-gloves. One who challenged another to a duel likewise did so by the
-use of a glove, even though his opponent was present. By throwing
-his glove before his opponent the challenger gave expression to the
-distance which separated him in feeling from his enemy. In this case,
-the symbol has changed from a sign of agreement to the opposite. All
-the symbols of which we have been speaking agree in having originally
-been regarded, not as symbols, but as real acts possessing certain
-magical potencies. When an individual, who is acquiring a piece of
-land, picks up a bit of soil while speaking the appropriate words, he
-intends to produce a magical effect upon the land, such that disaster
-will come to any one who may seek to deprive him of it. He who offers
-his hand in sealing a compact signifies that he is prepared to lose his
-freedom in case he fails to keep his word. For this reason the shaking
-of hands is sometimes supplemented by the extension of a staff--a
-special use of the magical wand which occurs particularly when the
-pledge is administered by a judge. In a second stage of development,
-the act loses the status of reality, but it remains associated with
-religious feelings. At a third stage, it becomes a mere matter of form,
-though the solemnity with which it envelops the transaction adds to the
-impressiveness of the latter and fixes it more firmly in memory.
-
-Combined with the word, thus, is a gesture that faithfully reflects its
-meaning. Moreover, other individuals are summoned to witness the legal
-transaction. This is done, not so much that these persons may later
-be able to give definite testimony, as that they, too, shall hear the
-word and see the gesture, and so, in a sense, enhance the reality of
-that which is transpiring. Besides this oldest form of witness, who is
-not to testify regarding that which he has experienced, as occurs in
-later times, but who is merely present on the occasion of the legal
-transaction, there is the _compurgator_, who substantiates the oath
-of the man involved. The latter fortifies his statements by invoking
-the gods as witnesses. Now, the oath of the compurgator does not
-relate to the testimony of his companion, but merely to the companion
-himself; it is a pledge to share the punishment of the latter in case
-he swears falsely. As in battle, so also in calling upon the terrible
-powers whose vengeance is to fall upon the perjurer, companion stands
-protectingly by the side of companion. Thus, the oath itself is a
-ceremony both of cult and of magic. As a cult activity, the oath was
-originally given at the place where the cult was administered--that
-is, in the immediate presence of the gods; the method of procedure
-was to raise the fingers and to point them directly to the gods, who
-were regarded as witnesses of the act. The magical nature of the
-oath appears in the fact that the latter involved the conjuration of
-an object, which was to bring disaster upon him who took the oath in
-case he swore falsely. Thus, the Germans swore by their battle-steeds
-or their weapons, and, in so doing, they laid their hands upon these
-objects; or, instead of the latter, they used an oath-staff--one of the
-numerous metamorphoses of the magical wand--which was extended toward
-him who received the oath, whether the opposing party or the judge.
-This oath signified that the object by which the individual swore would
-bring ruin upon him in case he committed perjury. The oath, therefore,
-came to be a fixed and definitely prescribed means of judicial
-procedure, though this occurred only after deity cult effected a union
-of the two factors, cult and magic. Nevertheless, the beginnings of
-this development are to be found as early as the totemic age, and
-they approximate to the cult-oath particularly in those regions that
-practise ancestor worship. The Bantu, for example, swears by the head
-of his father or the cap of his mother, as well as by the colour of his
-ox. In all these cases, the intention is that the perjurer shall suffer
-the vengeance which the demon of the deceased or of the animal visits
-upon him who swears falsely.
-
-Closely related in its motives to the oath is another legal
-institution, the _ordeal_. In the earliest form of the ordeal, the
-strife of individuals was settled by a duel. Such an ordeal was very
-similar to the sword-oath, at least among Indo-Germanic peoples. Just
-as the man who swore by his weapons invoked death by their agency
-in the indefinite future, so each of the participants in the duel
-sought to bring these magical powers into immediate effect in the
-case of his opponent. Not to him whose arm is the stronger, but to
-him who has the stronger cause, will the gods grant victory through
-the magic of his weapon. Like the oath, therefore, the ordeal was
-originally a method of legal procedure in civil cases. Like the oath,
-furthermore, it was, in its beginnings, a means whereby individuals
-settled their controversies independently of a judge. It is at this
-point that the punitive action of individuals gives way to public
-legal procedure. Originally, crimes against life and property were
-dealt with by individuals; the endeavour to secure the judgment of the
-gods by means of the duel was doubtless one of the earliest steps by
-which the penal process became a public procedure, and the punishment
-itself, therefore, became raised above the plane of mere revenge. Blood
-revenge involved an unexpected attack in the open or from ambush. To
-renounce this custom in favour of the duel, therefore, was in harmony
-with the character of the heroic age. For this was the period in which
-the ideal of manly honour was rapidly gaining strength, and in which,
-therefore, it was regarded as unworthy under any circumstances to take
-the life of a defenceless man. The principle accepted as self-evident
-in war, namely, that the person attacked have an opportunity to defend
-himself, became, in a warlike age, a maxim applying also to times
-of peace. Moreover, even though it be true of the ordeal as of the
-oath that, at the outset, cult was secondary to magical conjuration,
-nevertheless, the dominance of the latter varied with the degree in
-which the State freed penal justice from the passion for revenge on
-the part of individuals. The ordeal thus came to be more than merely a
-combat between the accuser and the accused. The judge in charge of the
-combat acquired the duty of determining guilt or innocence, and, as a
-result, the ordeal assumed other forms. Only the one who was accused
-was now involved. The ordeal changed from a magic combat into a _magic
-test_, which came to be regarded as a direct revelation of the decision
-of the deity. This led to the adoption of means of proof other than
-combat. It was obviously cult that caused penal justice as such to be
-taken out of the hands of private individuals. For this reason it was
-particularly sacrilege that demanded a magical judgment independent of
-the combat of individuals. In cases of sacrilege, the deity himself
-tested the assertions of the one who endeavoured to free himself from
-the charges of religious crime. The means for determining guilt or
-innocence were fire and water--the same agencies that had long been
-employed by religious cult for purposes of lustration. That the tests
-by water and by fire used in connection with the witchcraft cases of
-mediæval times still possessed a magical significance is unmistakable.
-If the witch sank in the water--that is, if she was received by the
-purifying element--she was guiltless. If the accused was not injured by
-holding a glowing iron in his hand or by walking barefooted over coals,
-this also was regarded as indicative of innocence. Apparently the
-underlying conception was that the deity who gave to water and fire the
-power of purifying a sinner from his guilt also communicated to them
-the power of freeing the innocent from an accusation and of withholding
-assistance from the guilty. Hence it is that while these modes of
-divine judgment were not, indeed, as common as was purification by
-means of water and fire, they nevertheless appeared again and again,
-so far as their fundamental characteristics are concerned. They were
-resorted to by the Germanic peoples, and were prevalent also in
-Græco-Roman antiquity, and in India; trial by water was likewise a
-custom in Babylonia, where it was prescribed by Hammurabi as a means by
-which a suspected person might free himself. We have noticed how, in
-the case of the ordeal and particularly of its earliest form, judicial
-combat, the legal controversies of individuals concerning rights
-relating to property, buying and selling and other agreements, came
-to be considered from the standpoint of _punishment_. This process is
-characteristic of the development of penal law in general.
-
-
-
-9. THE DEVELOPMENT OF PENAL LAW.
-
-
-As an institution protected by the State, the administration of penal
-law everywhere grew up out of civil law. The judge who was appointed by
-the State to arbitrate personal controversies developed into a criminal
-judge. Still later these two judicial offices became distinct. This
-separation began in connection with the most serious offences, such
-as seemed to demand a separate tribunal. The determining feature, in
-this instance, was, at the outset, not any qualitative characteristic
-of the offence but its gravity. Now, at the time when deity cults
-were at their zenith, the most serious crimes were held to be those
-connected with religion, namely, temple sacrilege and blasphemy. Only
-at a relatively late period were crimes against life and limb classed
-along with those affecting religion; to these were added, shortly
-afterwards, violations of property rights. That murder, though the
-most frequent crime of early culture, should not be penalized by
-political authority until so late a period, is directly due to the
-fact that it has its origin in the strife of individuals. In such a
-strife, each man personally assumes all consequences, even though
-these consist in the loss of his life. Even to slay a man from ambush
-is regarded as justifiable by primitive society if an individual is
-avenging a crime from which he has suffered. As family and kinship
-ties become stronger, the family or kin participates as a group in the
-quarrels of its individual members, just as it does in war against
-hostile tribes. A murder, whether or not it be an act of vengeance, is
-avenged by a fellow-member of the victim, either upon the murderer or
-upon some one of his kin, inasmuch as in this case also the group is
-regarded as taking the part of the individual. This is the practice
-of _blood-revenge_, a practice which antedates the heroic age but
-which nevertheless continues to exercise a powerful influence upon it.
-Blood-revenge is so closely bound up with totemic tribal organization
-that it was probably never lacking wherever any such system arose.
-Its status, however, was purely that of a custom, not that of a
-legal requirement. It was custom alone, and not political authority,
-that compelled one kinsman to avenge the death of another. It was
-custom also that sought to do away with the disastrous results of a
-continuous blood-feud by means of an arrangement that came to take
-the place of blood-revenge. This substitute was the 'wergild,' which
-was paid as an indemnity by the malefactor to the family of the one
-who had been murdered, and which thus maintained precisely the same
-relation to blood-revenge as did marriage by purchase to marriage by
-capture. In the former case, however, the substitution of a peaceful
-agreement for an act of violence gave the political authority its first
-occasion to exercise its regulative power. This first manifestation of
-power consisted in the fact that the political authority determined
-the amount which must be paid in lieu of the blood-guilt. With the
-institution of wergild the entire matter becomes one of civil law. Only
-one further step is necessary, and the law of contract will indirectly
-have established the penal authority of the State. This step is taken
-when the State _compels_ the parties to enter into an agreement on
-the basis of the wergild. The advance, however, was not made at a
-single bound, but came only through the influence of a number of
-intermediate factors. That which first demanded a legal determination
-of the amount of expiation money was the necessity of estimating the
-personal value of the one who had been murdered, according as the
-individual was free-born or dependent, of a high or of a low class, an
-able-bodied man or a woman. Such a gradation in terms of general social
-status suggested the propriety of allowing temporary and less serious
-injuries to life and limb to be compensated for on the basis of their
-magnitude. But the estimation of damages in such cases again made civil
-jurisdiction absolutely necessary.
-
-Closely interconnected with this complex of social factors, and
-imposing a check upon the impulse for vengeance that flames up in
-blood-revenge, was a religious influence--the fear of contaminating
-by a deed of violence a spot that was sanctified by the presence of
-invisible gods. No violence of any kind was allowed within sacred
-precincts, particularly in places set apart for sacrifice or for
-other cult ceremonies; least of all was violence tolerated in the
-temple, for the temple was regarded as the dwelling of a deity. Such
-places, therefore, afforded protection to all who fled to them from
-impending blood-revenge or other sources of danger. The sacred place
-also stood under the protection of the community; any violation of
-it brought down upon the offender the vengeance of the entire group,
-for the latter regarded such sacrilege as a source of common danger.
-Thus, the protection of the _sanctuary_ came to be a legal right
-even at a time when retribution for the crime itself was left to the
-vengeance of individuals. The right of protection afforded by the
-temple, however, was sometimes held to exist also in the case of the
-dwellings of persons of distinguished power and esteem, particularly
-the dwellings of the chief and of the priest. Indeed, prior to the
-existence of public temples, the latter were doubtless the only places
-of refuge. In this form, the beginnings of a right of refuge date back
-even into the totemic age. At that early time, however, the protection
-was apparently due, not so much to directly religious factors, as
-to the personal power of the individual who afforded the refuge, or
-also, particularly in Polynesia, to the 'taboo' with which the upper
-classes were privileged to guard their property. But, since the taboo
-was probably itself of religious origin, and since the medicine-man,
-and occasionally also the chief, could utilize demoniacal agencies as
-well as his own external power, even the very earliest forms of refuge
-were of the general nature of religious protection. In some cases, the
-right of refuge eventually became extended so as to be connected not
-only with the property set apart for the chief or the priest but also
-with the homes of inferior men. This, however, was a relatively late
-phenomenon. Its origin is traceable to the cult of household deities,
-first of the ancestral spirits who guard domestic peace, and then of
-the specific protective deities of the hearth by whom the ancestral
-spirits were supplanted. As a rule, it was not the criminal but the
-visiting stranger who sought the protection of the house. The right
-to hospitality thus became also a religiously sanctioned right to
-protection. The guest was no less secure against the host himself than
-against all others. The right of protection afforded by the house,
-therefore, should probably be interpreted as a transference of the
-right of refuge inherent in sacred precincts. The protective right
-of the chief was doubtless the beginning of what in its complete
-development came to be household right in general.
-
-The divine protection afforded by the sanctuary obviously offers but a
-temporary refuge from the avenger. The fugitive again encounters the
-dangers of blood-revenge as soon as he leaves the sacred precincts.
-Nevertheless, the time that is thus made to elapse between the act
-and its reprisal tempers the passion of the avenger, and affords an
-opportunity for negotiations in which the hostile families or clans
-may arrange that a ransom be paid in satisfaction of the crime that
-was committed. Moreover, the chief or the temple priest under whose
-protection the fugitive places himself, is given a direct opportunity
-for mediating in the capacity of an arbitrating judge, and later, as
-the political power gradually acquires greater strength, for taking the
-measures of retribution into his own hands. Revenge, thus, is changed
-into punishment, and custom is displaced by the norm of law, which
-grows up out of repeated decisions in the adjudication of similar cases.
-
-Sojourn in a place of refuge resembles imprisonment in that it limits
-personal freedom. One might, therefore, be inclined to suppose that,
-through a further development other than that described above, the
-sanctuary led to a gradual moderation of punishment by introducing the
-practice of _imprisonment_. Such a supposition, however, is not borne
-out by the facts. At the time when the transition from the place of
-refuge into the prison might have taken place, the idea of reducing
-the death penalty to the deprivation of freedom was still remote. The
-value which the heroic age placed on the life of the individual was
-not sufficiently high to induce such a change, and the enforcement of
-prison penalties would, under the existing conditions, have appeared
-difficult and uncertain. Hence imprisonment was as yet entirely unknown
-as a form of punishment. Though the State had suppressed blood-revenge,
-it showed no less an inclination than did ancient custom to requite not
-only murder but even milder crimes with death. Indeed, inasmuch as the
-peaceful mode of settlement by ransom gradually disappeared, it might
-be truer to say that the relentlessness of the State was even greater
-than that of blood-revenge. The oldest penal codes were very strongly
-inclined to impose death penalties. That the famous Draconian laws of
-Athens became proverbial in this respect was due merely to the fact
-that other ancient legal codes, though not infrequently more severe,
-were still unknown. The law of King Hammurabi punished by death any
-one who stole property belonging to the court or the temple, or even
-to one of the king's captains; the innkeeper who charged her guests
-extortionate prices was thrown into the water, and the temple maiden
-who opened a wine-shop was burned to death. Whoever acquired possession
-of stolen goods, or sheltered a runaway slave, was put to death, etc.
-For every crime that was judged to be in any way serious, and for
-whose expiation a money ransom was not adequate, the law knew only the
-one penalty, death. The earliest law made no use of custody except in
-connection with civil justice. The debtor was confined in the house of
-the creditor. This simply enforced the pledge involved in the shaking
-of hands at the time when the debt was contracted--an act by which the
-debtor vowed to be responsible for his debt with his own person.
-
-The confinement of the debtor was at first a matter that was left to
-individuals, and its original sanction was custom; later, however,
-it came under the supervision of the legal system of the State. This
-suggested the adoption of confinement in connection with other crimes,
-in which the death penalty appeared too severe a punishment and the
-exaction of money one that was too light, as well, primarily, as too
-dependent upon the wealth of the guilty individual. Contributory to
-this change, was a practice which, similarly to confinement, was
-also originally an arrangement between individuals, and was rooted
-in custom. I refer to the holding of individuals as pledges, to the
-hostage, who gave security with his own person for the promise of
-another. The hostage is of the nature of a forfeit, guaranteeing
-in advance the fulfilment of the obligation. For this reason the
-holding of hostages came to be practised not merely in the case of
-property contracts but in connection with every possible obligation
-of a private or a public nature. This development was furthered by
-the fact that hostages came to be held in times of war, and, as a
-result, were given also upon the assumption of public duties. In
-both cases, custody changed from a private arrangement into a public
-concern. This change made it possible for a judge to impose the
-penalty of imprisonment whenever the transgression did not appear
-to warrant death. Imprisonment is a penalty that admits of no fewer
-degrees than does a fine, and has the advantage of being independent
-of the irrelevant circumstance of the wealth of the one who is
-condemned. Moreover, the restriction of arbitrary deprivations of
-freedom in favour of custody on the part of the political power,
-makes it possible to hold a suspect whose case requires examination
-before a judicial verdict can be given. Thus arises the practice of
-confinement during investigation, an incidental form of legal procedure
-which is influenced by, and in turn reacts upon, the penalty of
-imprisonment. Such confinement makes it possible to execute the penalty
-of imprisonment in the case of those whom investigation shows to be
-guilty. But this is not its only important result. It also leads to
-those barbarous methods which, particularly during the early stages of
-this development, are connected with the infliction of the punishment
-itself as well as with the preceding inquisitorial activities. The
-public administration of justice is still affected by the passion for
-vengeance which comes down from the earlier period of blood-revenge.
-To this coarser sense of justice a merely quantitative gradation of
-punishment is not satisfactory; the punishment must rather be made to
-correspond qualitatively with the crime that has been committed. Hence
-the many different modes of prison punishment--more numerous even than
-the modes of inflicting the death penalty--and of the means of torture,
-which are often conceived with devilish cunning. These means of torture
-come to be used also in the inquisitional procedure; the endeavour
-to force a confession causes them to become more severe, and this in
-turn reacts upon the punishment itself. On the whole, the ultimate
-tendency, of imprisonment was greatly to restrict the death penalty and
-thus to contribute to more humane methods of punishment. Nevertheless,
-it is impossible not to recognize that this result was preceded by
-an increasing cruelty. The fact that the prisoner was under the
-control of the punitive authority for a longer period of time led to a
-multiplication of the means of punishment. How simple, and, one might
-say, how relatively humane, was blood-revenge, satisfied as it was to
-demand life for life, in comparison with the penal law of the Middle
-Ages, with its methods of forcing confession by means of the rack and
-of various forms of physical suffering and of death penalties!
-
-The same is true of a further change inaugurated by the passing of
-blood-revenge into punishment. This change likewise led to a decided
-restriction of the death penalty, yet it also, no less than the forcing
-of confession, brought upon penal justice the stigma of systematic
-cruelty. The assumption of penal power on the part of the public
-judiciary, in conjunction with the possession of unlimited control
-over the person and life of the malefactor, led to the adoption of
-a principle which long continued to dominate penal justice. This
-principle was drastically expressed in the Priests' Code of the
-Israelites, "Eye for eye, tooth for tooth." True, this _jus talionis_
-was already foreshadowed in the custom of blood-revenge, and yet the
-simple form which it here possessed, 'a life for a life,' made it a
-principle of just retribution, and not a demand sharpened by hate
-and cruelty. In the case of blood-revenge, moreover, the emotions of
-revenge were moderated by virtue of the fact that considerations of
-property played a rôle. Requital was sought for the loss which the
-clan sustained through the death of one of its members. Hence the clan
-might be satisfied with a money compensation, or, occasionally, with
-the adoption either of a fellow-tribesman of the murderer or, indeed,
-even of the murderer himself. In contrast with this, even the most
-severe physical injuries, so long as they did not result in death,
-were originally always left to the retaliation of the individual. This
-retaliation was sought either in direct combat, or, in the heroic age
-proper, in a duel conducted in accordance with regulations of custom.
-All this is changed as soon as the State abolishes blood-revenge and
-assumes jurisdiction over cases of murder. In the event of personal
-injuries, the judge determines the sentence, particularly if the
-individual is unable for any reason to secure retaliation--having been
-rendered helpless, for example, through his injury, or being prevented
-by the fact of class differences. Under such circumstances it is
-but natural that the principle, 'a life for a life,' which has been
-borrowed from the institution of blood-revenge and has been applied
-to the punishment for murder, should be developed into a scale of
-physical punishment representing the more general principle 'like for
-like.' He who has destroyed the eye of another, must lose his own eye;
-whoever has disabled another's arm, must have his arm cut off, etc.
-Other injuries then came to be similarly punished, even those of a
-moral character to which the principle "eye for eye, tooth for tooth"
-is not directly applicable. The hand which has been implicated in an
-act of sacrilege, such as the commission of perjury, is to be cut off;
-the tongue which has slandered, must be torn out. Originally, the death
-penalty was employed all too freely. Hence this substitution of a
-physical punishment which spared the life of the offender was doubtless
-in the direction of moderation. But, since this substitution gave rise
-to cruelties that resulted in the infliction of various sorts of death
-penalties, preceded and accompanied by tortures, its original effect
-became reversed, just as in the case of imprisonment. Moreover, the two
-forms of punishment--imprisonment and death--and the degree to which
-these were carried to excess differed according to civilization and
-race. The _jus talionis_ was the older principle of punishment. It is
-more closely bound up with man's natural impulse for retaliation, and
-therefore recurs even within humane civilizations, sometimes merely in
-suggestions but sometimes in occasional relapses which are of a more
-serious sort and are due to the passion for revenge. In fundamental
-contrast with the Mosaic law, Christianity repudiated the requital of
-like with like. Perhaps it was the fear of violating its own principle
-that led it, in its later development, to seek in the cruelties of
-severe prison penalties a substitute for the repressed impulse to
-revenge which comes to expression in coarser conceptions of justice.
-Nevertheless, this substitution was superior to the inflexible severity
-of the _jus talionis_ in that it more effectively enabled milder
-customs to influence the judicial conscience.
-
-But there is still another respect in which the recedence of the
-principle of retaliation gradually led to an advance beyond the legal
-conceptions characteristic of the heroic age. The command for strict
-retribution takes into consideration merely the _objective_ injury in
-which a deed results; to it, it is immaterial whether a person destroys
-another's eye accidentally or intentionally. The same injury that he
-has caused must befall him. Whoever kills a man must, according to
-the law of Hammurabi, himself suffer death; if he kills a woman, he
-is to be punished by the death of his daughter. If a house collapses,
-the builder who constructed it must suffer death. For a successful
-operation, the physician receives a compensation; if the operation
-fails, the hand that has performed it is cut off. The same law
-determines both reward and punishment. Moreover, it includes within its
-scope even intellectual and moral transgressions. The judge who commits
-an error is to be dismissed from office in disgrace; the owner who
-neglects his field is to be deprived of it.
-
-
-
-10. THE DIFFERENTIATION OF LEGAL FUNCTIONS.
-
-
-The direct impetus to overcoming the defects that were inherent in
-penal justice as a result of its having originated in the conflicts
-of individuals, did not come from a clear recognition of differences
-in the character of the crimes themselves, but primarily from the
-fact of a gradual _division of judicial functions_. This is shown
-particularly by the development of Græco-Roman as well as of Germanic
-law. It is in the criminal court, which supersedes blood-revenge,
-that public authority is most directly conscious of its power over
-the individual. Hence the criminal court appears to be the highest
-of the courts, and the one that most deeply affects the natural
-rights of man. Its authority is vested solely in the ruler, or in a
-particularly sacred tribunal. This is due, not so much to the specific
-character of the crimes over which it has jurisdiction, as to the
-respect which it receives because it assumes both the ancient duty of
-blood-revenge and the function of exacting a requital for religious
-guilt. Similarly, other offences also gradually pass from the sphere of
-personally executed revenge or from that of the strife of individuals,
-and become subject to the penal authority of the State. The division
-of judicial authority, to which these tendencies lead, is promoted
-by the differentiation of public power, as a result of which the
-administration of justice is apportioned to various officials and
-magistrates, as well as are the other tasks of the State. It is for
-this reason that, if we consider their civilization as a whole, the
-constitutional States of the Occidental world were led to differentiate
-judicial functions much earlier than were the great despotic monarchies
-of the Orient. These monarchies, as the code of Hammurabi shows,
-possessed a highly developed husbandry and a correspondingly advanced
-commercial and monetary system, whereas they centralized all judicial
-functions in the ruler.
-
-Thus, the State gains a twofold power, manifested, in the first place,
-in the very establishment of a judicial order, and, secondly, in the
-differentiation of the spheres of justice in which the authority of the
-State over the individual is exercised. This finally prepares the way
-for the last stage of development. The state itself becomes subject
-to an established legal order which determines its various functions
-and the duties of its members. There thus originates an officialdom,
-organized on fixed principles and possessing carefully defined public
-privileges. The people of the State, on the other hand, are divided
-into definite classes on the basis of the duties demanded of them as
-well as of the rights connected with these duties. These articulations
-of political society, which determine the organization of the army,
-the mode of taxation, and the right of participation in the government
-of the State, develop, as we have already seen, out of totemic tribal
-organization, as a result of the external conditions attendant upon
-the migrations and wars connected with the rise of States. But they
-also exhibit throughout the traces of statutes expressing the will
-and recording the decisions of individual rulers, though even here,
-of course, universal human motives are decisive. After the political
-powers of the State have been divided and have been delegated to
-particular officials and official colleges, and after political rights
-have been apportioned to the various classes of society, the next step
-consists in rendering the organization of the State secure by means of
-a _Constitution_ regulating the entire political system. In the shaping
-of the Constitution, it cannot be denied that individual legislators
-or legislative assemblies played a significant rôle. Nevertheless, it
-must be remembered that it is solely as respects the _form_ of State
-organization that the final and most comprehensive legal creation
-appears to be predominantly the result of the will acts of individuals.
-The _content_ of the Constitution is in every respect a product of
-history; it is determined by conditions which, in the last analysis,
-depend upon the general culture of a nation and upon its relations with
-other peoples. These conditions, however, are so complex that, though
-every form of Constitution and all its modifications may be regarded
-as absolutely involved in the causal nexus of historical life, the
-endless diversity of particular conditions precludes Constitutions from
-being classifiable according to any universal principle. Constitutions
-can at most be classified on the basis of certain analogies. The
-most influential attempt at a genetic classification of the various
-historical forms of government was that of Aristotle. But his
-classification, based on the number of rulers (one, a few, many, all)
-and on the moral predicates of good and evil (monarchy and tyranny,
-aristocracy and oligarchy, etc.), offers a purely logical schema which
-corresponds but partially with facts. True, it not infrequently happens
-that the rule of all--that is, democracy--gives way to the evil form of
-individual rulership--namely, tyranny. An aristocracy, however, or even
-a monarchy, may likewise develop into a tyranny. What the change is to
-be, depends upon historical conditions. Nor are monarchy, aristocracy,
-or the rule of the middle class forms of government that are ever
-actually to be found in the purity which logical schematization
-demands. Even in the Homeric State there was a council of elders and
-an assembly of freemen--an agora--in addition to the king. Indeed, if
-we go back still farther and inquire concerning those more primitive
-peoples of nature who are merely on the point of passing from tribal
-organization to a political Constitution, it might perhaps be nearer
-the truth to assert that democracy, and not monarchy, was the form
-of the early State. The fact is that the organization characteristic
-of the State as a whole is the product of historical factors of an
-exceedingly variable nature, and that it never adequately fits into any
-logical system that is based on merely a few political features. Even
-less may a logical schema of this sort be regarded as representing a
-universal law of development.
-
-Thus, the State is indeed the ultimate source of all the various
-branches of the legal system. So far as the fundamental elements of its
-own Constitution are concerned, however, it is really itself a product
-of _custom_, if we take this term in its broadest sense, as signifying
-an historically developed order of social life which has not yet come
-under the control of political authority. The course of development is
-the very opposite of that which rationalistic theories have taught,
-ever since the time of the Sophists, concerning the origin of the
-State. These theories maintain that the legal system originated in
-connection with the State, and that it then acquired an application to
-the separate departments of life. The reverse is true. It is with the
-determination of the rights of individuals and with the settlement of
-the controversies arising from these rights that the legal power of the
-State takes its rise. It is strengthened and extended when the custom
-of personal retribution comes to be superseded by penal law. Last of
-all comes the systematic formulation of the political Constitution
-itself. The latter, however, is never more than a _development_; it is
-not a creation in the proper sense of the word. Even such States as
-the United States of North America and the new German Empire were not
-created by lawgivers, but were only organized by them in respect to
-details. The State as such is always a product of history, and so it
-must ever remain. Every legal system presupposes the power of a State.
-Hence the latter can never itself originate in an act of legislation,
-but can only transform itself into a legal order after it has once
-arisen.
-
-
-
-11. THE ORIGIN OF GODS.
-
-
-At first glance it may seem presumptuous even to raise the question as
-to how gods originated. Have they not always existed? one is inclined
-to ask. As a matter of fact, this is the opinion of most historians,
-particularly of historians of religion. They hold that the belief
-in gods is underived. Degenerate forms may arise, the belief may at
-times even disappear altogether or be displaced by a crude belief in
-magic and demons, but it itself can in no wise have been developed
-from anything else, for it was possessed by mankind from the very
-beginning. Were it true that the belief in gods represents an original
-possession of mankind, our question concerning the origin of gods would
-be invalidated. The assumption, however, is disproved by the facts of
-ethnology. There are peoples without gods. True, there are no peoples
-without some sort of supersensuous beings. Nevertheless, to call all
-such beings 'gods'--beings, for example, such as sickness-demons or the
-demons which leave the corpse and threaten the living--would appear to
-be a wholly unwarranted extension of the conception of deity. Unbiased
-observation goes to show that there are no peoples without certain
-conceptions that may be regarded as precursors of the later god-ideas.
-Nevertheless, there can be no doubt that there are some peoples without
-gods. The Veddahs of Ceylon, the so-called nature-Semangs and Senoi of
-Malacca, the natives of Australia, and many other peoples of nature as
-well, possess no gods, in our sense of the word. Because all of these
-primitive peoples interpret certain natural phenomena--such as clouds,
-winds, and stars--in an anthropomorphic fashion, it has been attempted
-time and again to establish the presence of the god-idea of higher
-religions. Such attempts, however, may be straightway characterized as
-a play with superficial analogies in which no thought whatsoever is
-taken of the real content of the god-conception.
-
-Accepting the lead of ethnological facts, then, let us grant that
-there are stages in the development of the myth in which real gods
-are lacking. Even so, two opposing views are possible concerning
-the relation of such 'prereligious' conditions to the origin of the
-god-ideas essential to religion. Indeed, these views still actively
-compete with each other in the science of religion. On the one hand,
-it is maintained that the god-idea is original, and that belief in
-demons, totemism, fetishism, and ancestor worship are secondary and
-degenerate derivatives. On the other hand, the gods are regarded as
-products of a mythological development, and, in so far, as analogous
-to the State, which grew up in the course of political development
-out of the primitive forms of tribal organization. Those who defend
-the first of these views subscribe to a degeneration theory. If the
-ancestors reverenced in cult are degenerated deities, and if the
-same is true of demons and even of fetishes, then the main course of
-religious development has obviously been downward and not upward.
-The representatives of the second view, on the contrary, assume an
-upward or progressive tendency. If demons, fetishes, and the animal or
-human ancestors worshipped in cult antedate gods, the latter must have
-developed from the former. Thus, the views concerning the origin of
-gods may be classified as _theories of degeneration_ and _theories of
-development_.
-
-But the theories of degeneration themselves fall into two classes.
-The one upholds an original monotheism, the basis of which is claimed
-to be either an innate idea of God or a revelation made to all
-mankind. Obviously this assumption is itself more nearly a belief
-than a scientific hypothesis. As a belief, it may be accounted for
-in terms of a certain religious need. This explains how it happens
-that, in spite of the multiplication of contradictory facts, the
-theory has been repeatedly urged in comparatively recent times. Only
-a short time ago, even a distinguished ethnologist, Wilhelm Schmidt,
-attempted to prove that such an original monotheism was without
-doubt a dominant belief among the so-called Pygmies, who must, in
-general, be classed with primitive peoples. The argument adduced in
-support of this view, however, unquestionably lacks the critical
-caution otherwise characteristic of this investigator. One cannot
-escape the conviction that, in this case, personal religious needs
-influenced the ethnological views, even though one may well doubt
-whether the degeneration theory is a theory that is suited to satisfy
-such needs.[1] The second class of theories adopts the view that the
-basis of all religious development was not monotheism but primitive
-polytheism. This polytheism is supposed to have originated, at a very
-early age, in the impression made by the starry heavens, particularly
-by the great heavenly bodies, the sun and the moon. Here for the first
-time, it is maintained, man was confronted by a world far transcending
-his own realm of sense perception; because of the multiplicity of the
-motives that were operative, it was not the idea of one deity but
-the belief in many deities that was evoked. In essential contrast
-with the preceding view, this class of theories regards all further
-development as upward. Monotheism is held to be a refined religious
-product of earlier polytheistic conceptions. In so far, the hypothesis
-represents a transition to developmental theories proper. It cannot be
-counted among the latter, however, for it holds to the originality of
-the god-idea, believing that this conception, which is essential to
-all religion, was not itself the product of development, but formed
-an original element of man's natural endowment. Moreover, the theory
-attaches a disproportionate significance to the transition from many
-gods to a single god. It is doubtful, to say the least, whether the
-intrinsic value of the god-idea may be measured merely in terms of this
-numerical standard. Furthermore, the fact is undeniable that philosophy
-alone really exhibits an absolute monotheism. A pure monotheistic
-belief probably never existed in the religion of any people, not even
-in that of the Israelites, whose national deity, Jahve, was not at all
-the sole god in the sense of a strict monotheism. When the Decalogue
-says, "Thou shalt have no other gods before me," this does not deny
-the existence of gods other than Jahve, but merely prohibits the
-Israelites from worshipping any other deity. These other gods, however,
-are the national gods of other peoples. Not only do these other tribal
-gods exist alongside of Jahve, but the patriarchal sagas centre
-about individuals that resemble now demonic and now divine beings.
-The most remarkable of these figures is Jacob. In the account of his
-personality there seem to be mingled legends of differing origin,
-dating from a time probably far earlier than the developed Jahve cult.
-The scene with his father-in-law, Laban, represents him as a sort of
-crafty märchen-hero. He cheats Laban through his knowledge of magic,
-gaining for himself the choicest of the young lambs by constructing
-the watering troughs of half-peeled rods of wood--a striking example
-of so-called imitative magic. On the other hand, Jacob is portrayed
-as the hero who rolls from the well's mouth the stone which all the
-servants of Laban could not move. And finally, when he wrestles with
-Jahve by night on the bank of the stream and is not overcome until
-the break of day, we are reminded either of a mighty Titan of divine
-lineage, or possibly of the river demon who, according to ancient folk
-belief, threatens to engulf every one who crosses the stream, be it
-even a god. But what is true of the figures of the patriarchal sagas
-applies also, in part, to Jahve himself. In the remarkable scene in
-which Jahve visits Abraham near the terebinths of Mamre, he associates
-with the patriarch as a _primus inter pares_. He allows Sarah to
-bake him a cake and to wash his feet, and he then promises Abraham a
-numerous posterity. He appears as a man among men, though, of course,
-as one who is superior and who possesses magical power. Only gradually
-does the god acquire the remoteness of the superhuman. Abraham is
-later represented as falling down before him, and as scarcely daring
-to approach him. Here also, however, the god still appears on earth.
-Finally, when he speaks to Moses from the burning bush, only his voice
-is perceptible. Thus, his sensuous form vanishes more and more, until
-we come to the Jahve who uses the prophets as his mouthpiece and is
-present to them only as a spiritual being. The purified Jahve cult,
-therefore, was not an original folk-religion. It was the product
-of priests and prophets, created by them out of a polytheism which
-contained a rich profusion of demon conceptions, and which was never
-entirely suppressed.
-
-If an original monotheism is nowhere to be found, one might be tempted
-to believe conversely, that _polytheism_ represents the starting-point
-of all mythology. In fact, until very recently this was doubtless the
-consensus of opinion among mythologists and historians of religion, and
-the idea is still widely prevalent. For, if we hold in any way to the
-view that the god-idea is underived, there is but one recourse, once
-we abandon the idea of an original monotheism. The polytheistic theory
-is, as a rule, connected with the further contention that god-ideas are
-directly due to celestial phenomena. In substantiation of this view, it
-is pointed out that, with the exception of the gods of the underworld,
-the gods are usually supposed to dwell in the heavens. Accordingly, it
-is particularly the great heavenly bodies, the sun and the moon, or
-also the clouds and storms, to which--now to the one and now to the
-other, according to their particular tendency--these theories trace
-the origin of the gods. Celestial phenomena were present to man from
-the beginning, and it is supposed that they aroused his reflection
-from earliest times on. Those mythologists who champion the celestial
-theory of the origin of religion, therefore, regard god-ideas as in
-great measure the products of intellectual activity; these ideas are
-supposed to represent a sort of primitive explanation of nature, though
-an explanation, of course, which, in contrast to later science, is
-fantastical, arbitrary, and under the control of emotion. During the
-past century, moreover, this class of hypotheses has gradually placed
-less emphasis on emotional as compared with rational factors. In the
-first instance, it was the phenomena of storms, clouds, thunder, and
-lightning that were thought to be the basis of deity belief; later,
-the sun came to be regarded as the embodiment of the chief god; the
-present tendency is to emphasize particularly the moon, whose changing
-phases may easily give rise to various mythological ideas. Does not
-the proverbial 'man in the moon' survive even to-day as a well-known
-fragment of mythological conceptions of this sort? Similarly, the
-crescent moon suggests a sword, a club, a boat, and many other things
-which, though not conceived as gods, may at any rate be regarded as
-their weapons or implements. The gods, we are told, then gradually
-became distinguished from celestial objects and became independent
-personal beings. The heroes of the hero saga are said to be degenerated
-gods, as it were. When the myth attributes a divine parentage to the
-hero, or allows him to enter the realm of the gods upon his death, this
-is interpreted as indicative of a vague memory that the hero was once
-himself a god. The lowest place in the scale of heroes is given to the
-märchen-hero, though he also is supposed in the last analysis to have
-originated as a celestial deity. The märchen itself is thus regarded
-as the last stage in the decline of the myth, whose development is
-held to have been initiated in the distant past by the celestial
-myth. Accordingly, the most prevalent present-day tendency of nature
-mythology is to assume an orderly development of a twofold sort. On
-the one hand, the moon is regarded as having been the earliest object
-of cult, followed by the sun and the stars. Later, it is supposed, a
-distinction was made between gods and celestial objects, though the
-former were still given many celestial attributes. On the other hand,
-it is held that the gods were more and more anthropomorphized; their
-celestial origin becoming gradually obscured, they were reduced to
-heroes of various ranks, ranging from the heroic figures of the saga
-to the heroes of children's märchen. These theories of an original
-polytheism are rendered one-sided by the very fact that they are not
-based upon any investigations whatsoever concerning the gods and myths
-actually prevalent in folk-belief. They merely give an interpretation
-of hypothetical conceptions which are supposed to be original, and it
-is from these that the gods of actual belief are derived. Those who
-proceed thus believe that the task of the psychologist of religion and
-of the mythologist is completed with the demonstration that back of
-every deity of myth there lurks a celestial phenomenon. It has been
-maintained, for example, that every feature of the Biblical legend of
-Paradise had its origin in ideas connected with the moon. Paradise
-itself is the moon. The flaming sword of the angel who guards Paradise
-is the crescent moon. Adam is either the half-moon or the familiar man
-in the moon. Finally, Adam's rib, out of which Eve was created, is
-again the crescent moon.
-
-We need not raise the question whether such a mode of treatment ever
-correctly interprets any actual mythological conception, or whether
-it represents nothing other than the creation of the mythologist's
-imagination. This much is clear, that it leaves out of consideration
-precisely those mythological ideas and religious views that really
-live in folk-belief. Doubtless we may assume that celestial
-phenomena occasionally factored as assimilative elements in the
-formation of mythological conceptions. But such conceptions cannot
-possibly have been due exclusively to celestial factors, for the
-very reason that, even where these are indubitably present, they are
-inextricably interwoven with terrestrial elements derived from man's
-immediate environment. Consider, for example, the figure of Helios in
-Greek mythology. His very name so inevitably suggests the sun that
-this connection remained unsevered throughout later development.
-Nevertheless, the Greeks no more identified the god Helios with the sun
-than they did Zeus himself with thunder and lightning. On the contrary,
-these celestial phenomena were all only attributes of deities. The god
-stands in the background, and, in the idea which man forms of him, the
-image of human heroes plays no less a part than do the impressions
-made by the shining heavenly bodies. These various interpretations
-of nature mythology, therefore, overlook an important psychological
-factor which is operative even in elemental experiences, but which
-attains increasing significance in proportion as the psychical
-processes become more complicated, and especially, therefore, in the
-formation of mythological conceptions. I refer to the _assimilative
-fusion of psychical elements of differing origins_. No external object
-is perceived precisely as it is immediately given in reality. In the
-experience of it, there are fused numerous elements whose source is
-within ourselves; these partly reinforce and partly suppress the
-given elements, thus producing what we call the 'perception' or the
-'apprehension' of the object. The process of assimilation is greatly
-influenced by the emotions that may be present. To the frightened
-person, thunder and lightning suggest a god who hurls the lightning.
-Such a person believes that he really sees this god. Either the
-surrounding portions of the sky assume, in his imagination, the form
-of an immense anthropomorphic being, or the thunder and lightning lead
-his gaze to the canopy of clouds, hidden back of which he thinks that
-he discovers, at least in vague outline, the thundering Zeus. To gain
-some appreciation of the tremendous potency of assimilative processes,
-one need but recall certain situations of ordinary life, such as are
-experienced even apart from the influence of fear or ecstasy. Consider,
-for example, the vivid impression that may be aroused by theatrical
-scenery, which in reality consists of little more than suggestive
-outlines. A particularly striking illustration is offered also by the
-familiar puzzle pictures. In a picture of the foliage of a tree there
-are sketched the outlines of a human face or of the head of a cat. An
-uninitiated observer sees at first only the foliage. Not until his
-attention has been directed to it does he suddenly discover the head.
-Once, however, he has seen the latter, he cannot suppress it, try
-as he may. Here again it is sometimes but a few indistinct outlines
-that evoke the picture. The truth is that to a very great extent the
-observer reads the head into the drawing through the activity of his
-imagination. Now, it is but natural that such an assimilation should be
-immeasurably enhanced under the influence of the emotions which excite
-the mythological imagination. As is well known, Apollo, as well as
-Helios, was represented by the image of the sun. This image, however,
-was even less adequate to embody the idea of the Greek in the former
-case than it was in the latter. The Greek was able, however, to imagine
-the radiant sun as an attribute of the deity or as a manifestation of
-his activity. He could see in the sun the shield or chariot of the god;
-in the sun's rays, his missiles. Here again, however, he had in mind
-the indefinite outlines of a powerful anthropomorphic god, who could
-become independent of the natural phenomenon according as his name was
-free from connection with it.
-
-Thus, even those nature gods who might appear to be purely celestial
-deities, as, for example, Helios, or the lightning-hurling Zeus, are
-the products of a psychological assimilation of perceptual elements,
-the most important of which have their ultimate source in terrestrial
-life. Hence it is that, wherever the nature myth has reached its
-complete development, the gods appear in _human form_. It is only
-in an age still influenced by totemic ideas that zoömorphism occurs
-alongside of anthropomorphism, or in combination with it. Of such
-figures, the one which maintained itself longest--as is shown by the
-history of ancient Egypt--was that of a human body with the head of
-an animal. After this connection of an incipient deity cult with the
-ideas of the preceding age had disappeared, the only remaining trace of
-totemism was the fact that an animal was represented as accompanying
-the deity. Eventually the animal became a mere symbol used by art in
-its pictorial representations of the god. Doubtless the lamb, as a
-symbol of Christ, may be regarded as a late survival of a stage of
-deity belief which was still semi-totemic, and under the influence of
-the sacred animals of older cultural religions. The expression 'sacred
-animals,' moreover, points to the fact that the worship and veneration
-paid to the god influenced also the attitude taken toward the animal.
-But however far this development of the god-idea may have advanced,
-the essential elements of the conception nevertheless remained of
-_terrestrial_ origin. In the mythological assimilation-complexes that
-gave rise to gods, celestial phenomena furnished but a part of the
-elements. At best, they were the exciting stimuli; in many cases,
-it is doubtful whether they exercised any influence whatsoever upon
-the origin of mythological conceptions. Whether, for example, the
-crescent moon has actually any connection with the flaming sword of
-the angel of Paradise, or whether it suggested the club of Hercules,
-this and much else is possible, but is incapable of demonstration. Even
-where this influence upon mythological conceptions is incontestable,
-celestial phenomena are subordinate to terrestrial factors, and in most
-cases they have left no trace in consciousness. Proof of the dominant
-importance of the terrestrial environment is not far to seek. Even the
-celestial gods are conceived as men or as anthropomorphic beings, and
-it is usually the earth that is regarded as the scene of their activity.
-
-The theories maintaining the originality of the god-idea have more
-and more been displaced by the contrary view, namely, that the gods
-developed out of lower forms of mythological thought. Here there
-are _two_ distinct interpretations. The first and the older is the
-_ancestor theory_. This represents a particular form of animism, for
-the soul of the ancestor is thought to become a god. The worship of the
-god, therefore, is held to have been originally a reverence paid to
-the ancestor. The main evidence for this view is found in the ancestor
-worship which is actually being practised, among many peoples, even at
-the present time. Prior to the Jahve religion, such a cult is supposed
-to have prevailed even among the Israelites. Do not the patriarchs
-Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob appear as the ancestors of the later tribes
-of Israel? More significant still are the ancestor cults that have
-prevailed in China and Japan since very ancient times. It should be
-remembered, however, that these cults, wherever they occur, represent
-but more or less prominent elements of more extensive mythological and
-religious conceptions. Hence the ancestor theory, also, is an arbitrary
-construction based on a presupposition which is in itself very
-improbable, namely, that all mythology and religion must eventually be
-traceable to a single source. The contention, for example, that a Zeus
-or a Jahve was a human ancestor elevated into a deity is a completely
-arbitrary supposition, lacking the confirmation of empirical facts.
-
-Finally, there is another theory which, like the ancestor hypothesis,
-seeks to derive gods, or at least the beings generally regarded as
-gods, from more primitive mythological ideas. This theory, which was
-developed by Hermann Usener, the most prominent student of the science
-of religion among recent classical philologists, might perhaps be
-referred to, in distinction from the soul and ancestor hypothesis,
-as the _demon theory_ of the origin of gods. Usener agrees with the
-rival hypothesis in assuming that the exalted celestial deities were
-not the first of the higher beings who were feared or worshipped in
-a cult, but that there were other more temporary gods. Though these
-many temporary gods are described as demoniacal beings, they are
-nevertheless regarded as gods of a primitive sort. Usener distinguishes
-three stages in the development of gods. First, there was the 'god
-of the moment.' Some phenomenon--such, for example, as a flash of
-lightning or a clap of thunder--was felt to be divine. But, inasmuch
-as the impression was vanishing, the mythological idea in question was
-that of a 'god of the moment.' Then followed a second stage, in which a
-demoniacal power was associated with a particular place. Following upon
-these local gods came other gods, representing the guardian powers of
-a tribe, a vocation, or some other social group. At the third stage of
-development, the 'particular god' acquired a personal nature, and thus
-finally became a god proper. The gods of this final stage are called by
-Usener 'personal gods.'
-
-Although this theory is doubtless in greater consonance with certain
-general characteristics of myth development than is the ancestor
-theory, we would urge, as one chief objection, the fact that its
-god-concept unites mythological-religious elements of a very different
-nature. In particular, the so-called 'god of a moment' is neither a
-god, in the proper sense of the word, nor even a demon, but either a
-particular impression arousing fear, or, on a higher plane, a single
-manifestation of the activity of a demon or god. The Greeks referred
-the flash of lightning to Zeus, the lightning-hurler. On a more
-primitive level, the North American Indian sees in the lightning and
-thunder the acts of a demon hidden in the clouds. In neither case are
-the momentary phenomena identified with gods or demons themselves.
-There is not a shadow of proof in the entire history of myth that
-such acts or attributes as these, which were attributed to gods and
-demons, ever existed as independent realities of even but a moment's
-duration. The so-called 'particular gods,' on the other hand, are in
-every respect demons and not gods. They are not personal in nature;
-this also implies that they are not conceived as having a particular
-form, for somehow the latter always leads to personalization. As a
-matter of fact, these 'particular gods' are only objectified emotions
-of fear and terror. Spirits, in the sense of magical agents of disease
-conceived as invisible beings, or occasionally imaged in the form of
-fantastic though ever-changing animal shapes, are not gods, but demons.
-The same holds true of the multitude of nature demons that infest
-field and forest and the vicinity of streams and gorges. Wherever myth
-has given these spirits definite forms, they reveal no evidence of
-traits such as would constitute them individual personalities. This,
-of course, does not imply that there are no cases at all in which the
-indeterminate traits ascribed to them are so combined as to result
-in individual beings. When this occurs, however, we have already
-transcended the stage of so-called 'particular gods.' Such beings as
-the Greek Pan or the Germanic Hel must already be classed with gods
-proper, even though they exhibit traits indicative of a demoniacal
-past; for the narrowness of character which they manifest results
-from the fact that they originated directly in a particular emotion.
-Surely, therefore, the decisive emphasis in the case of deity ideas
-in general must be placed on the attribute of personality. Gods are
-personal beings, whose characters reflect the peculiarity of the people
-who have created them. We see in the god Jahve of the Israelites the
-clear-cut lines of the stern god who threatens the disobedient, but
-who also rewards the faithful. More impressive still is the uniqueness
-of personality in those cases in which a multiplicity of gods causes
-the development of diverse and partly opposed characteristics in the
-various gods. How individual are the gods of the Greeks with respect to
-one another! Under the influence of poetry every god has here become a
-clearly defined personality, whose individuality was fixed by formative
-art. Thus, the error of the demon theory or, as it might also be
-called, the three-stage theory, lies in the fact that it effaces the
-essential distinctions between god and demon, retaining as the chief
-characteristic of the multitude of resulting deity-conceptions only the
-most external quality, that of _permanence_. For the 'god of a moment'
-is characterized merely by his extreme transitoriness; the 'particular
-god' is the 'god of a moment' become somewhat more enduring but not
-yet possessed of sufficient stability to develop personal traits; the
-true or personal god, finally, owes his distinctive attribute solely
-to the permanence of his characteristics. Because of this confusion of
-the concepts god and demon, there is lacking precisely that which is of
-most importance for a psychological investigation--namely, an answer to
-the question as to the _intrinsic_ marks that differentiate a god, in
-the proper and only true sense of the word, from demons, ancestors, and
-souls--in short, from all other creations of mythological thought.
-
-Herewith we come to a question which will bring us closer to an
-answer respecting the origin of gods. By what characteristic marks is
-a mythological conception to be distinguished as that of an actual
-god? The question might also be stated in a more concrete form. What
-characteristics differentiate a god from a _demon_, who is not yet a
-god because he lacks personality, and from a _hero_, who is regarded
-by the age in which gods originate as somewhat approximating a god
-but as nevertheless still a man? Or, briefly expressed, how does the
-god differ from the demon and from the ideal man? The criteria thus
-demanded are to be found in the traits that are universally ascribed
-to gods wherever any complete deity mythology and a corresponding
-religion have been developed. The god is always distinguished by three
-characteristics. The first of these is that his _place of abode_ is
-other than that of man. He may occasionally visit man on the earth,
-but this occurs only rarely. So far as he himself is concerned, the
-god lives in another world. In this sense, the idea of a 'beyond' is
-closely bound up with that of gods. As a rule, the 'beyond' is the
-heavenly world. But gods may dwell also in the regions of the air and
-clouds between the heaven and the earth, on high mountains, on distant
-islands, or, finally, under special circumstances, in the depths of the
-earth. Secondly, the gods lead a _perfect_ life, free, on the whole,
-from the evils and infirmities of earthly existence. A perfect life,
-however, is always regarded as primarily a life without death and
-without sickness. There then develops, though doubtless gradually, the
-idea of something even more perfect than is involved in this merely
-negative conception of immortal and painless existence. But at this
-point ideas begin to differ, so that, in reality, the most universal
-characteristics of the gods are that they know neither death nor
-sickness. There are occasional exceptions, however, just as there are
-with respect to the supra-mundane place of abode. The Greek as well as
-the Germanic deity sagas represent the gods as possessing a particular
-food and a particular drink, an idea connected with that of the
-anthropomorphic nature of these gods. The Germanic gods, especially,
-are described as capable of maintaining their perfect life only by
-far exceeding the human measure of food and drink. This, however, is
-but a subordinate feature. More important is the fact that if, by any
-unfortunate circumstance, food and drink are lacking, the gods waste
-away and meet the universal lot of human existence--death. But, even
-apart from this connection, the Germanic sagas, or at any rate the
-poetry inspired by them, tell of a decline of gods and of the rise
-of a new divine hierarchy. It is not to be assumed, of course, that
-this represents an original element in Germanic mythology. All records
-of Germanic deity sagas, as we know, date from Christian times. Even
-though the ancient skalds, as well as those historians who regarded
-the saga as a bit of actual history, may have made every effort to
-preserve for posterity the memory of this departed world, they could,
-nevertheless, hardly have avoided mingling certain Christian ideas
-with tradition. In view of the actual decline of the former gods, the
-thought of a _Götterdämmerung_, in particular, must almost inevitably
-have forced itself upon them. At any rate, inasmuch as this particular
-conception represents the gods as subject to death, it contains an
-element that is bound up with the anthropomorphic nature of the
-divine beings, though this, of course, is irreconcilable with the
-immortality originally conceded to them. We are thus brought to the
-most important characteristic of gods, which is connected with this
-very fact of their similarity to man. The god is a _personality_; he
-has a specific personal character, which gives direction to his will
-and leads him to send blessings or misfortunes to mortals. These purely
-human characteristics, however, he possesses in an exalted and complete
-measure. His will-acts, as well as the emotion from which they spring
-and the insight by which they are guided, are superhuman in power.
-But this power is not equivalent to omnipotence. This it cannot be by
-very reason of the multiplicity of gods, each of whom has a particular
-sphere of activity. Frequently, moreover, omnipotence is rendered
-impossible by the idea--likewise carried over from the terrestrial to
-the supermundane world--of a _destiny_, an impersonal power behind
-the wills of gods no less than those of men. This is a conception
-which deity beliefs inherit from the earlier demon beliefs. True,
-polytheistic myth itself takes a step in the direction of transcending
-this limitation when it here also transfers the conditions of the human
-order to the divine world, and creates for the latter a monarch, a
-supreme deity ruling over gods and men. But this very projection of
-human relations into the divine realm prevents the chief deity from
-being an unlimited ruler. On the one hand, he shares authority with a
-deliberative assembly consisting of the remaining gods; on the other
-hand, even behind him there lurk those demoniacal powers which, to a
-certain extent, continued to assert themselves even after they had
-been superseded by the gods. For here also it holds true that whatever
-lives in folk-belief must retain a foundation in myth. The advent of
-gods nowhere led to the complete banishment of demons. What occurred
-was that, due to the power of the gods, certain of the demons likewise
-developed into mighty forces of destiny, though continuing to remain
-impersonal.
-
-Thus, the god possesses three characteristics: a special
-dwelling-place, immortality, and a superhuman, though at the same time
-a human, personality. Leaving out of regard the tribute exacted even
-of the gods by the last-mentioned of these characteristics, human
-nature, we have before us the marks which distinguish the god both
-from the demon and from the hero. The demon, however powerful he may
-be, lacks the attribute of personality; the hero, as thoroughly human,
-shares the universal lot of man as regards dwelling-place, length of
-life, and liability to sickness and death. This places the god midway
-between the demon and the hero, though, of course, by combining the
-attributes of both, he is really exalted above them. The demon, in
-the sense in which the Greeks employed this term, is a fundamental
-element in the development of all mythologies. There can be no doubt,
-moreover, that demons appeared far earlier than gods, if we exclude
-from among the latter those indefinite and transitory personifications
-of natural phenomena that have wrongly been classed with them--such
-personifications as those of rocks, hills, clouds, stars, etc., which
-were widely current even among peoples of nature. According to a belief
-which has not entirely disappeared even among cultural peoples, the
-soul leaves the corpse in the form of a demon; the wandering ghost is
-a demon; demons dwell in the depths, in the neighbourhood of streams,
-in solitary ravines, in forests and fields, upon and beneath the earth.
-They are usually threatening, though sometimes beneficent, powers. In
-every instance, however, they are absolutely impersonal embodiments
-of the emotions of fear and hope, and it is these emotions, under
-the assimilative influences of impressions of external nature, that
-have given rise to them. Thus, demons are usually mundane beings, or,
-at any rate, have their abode near the surface of the earth; with
-few exceptions, the most distant realm which they occupy is that of
-the clouds, particularly the dark rain and thunder clouds. True, the
-heavenly bodies may manifest demoniacal powers, just as may also the
-gods. As a rule, however, celestial phenomena are far from belonging
-to the class of demons proper; they are too constant and too regular
-in their changes and movements to be thus included. The activity of
-demons relates exclusively to the welfare of man. Hence it is but
-natural that demons should be primarily man's co-inhabitants on earth.
-Usually invisible, they assume sensuously perceptible forms only in
-the darkness of night, or, more especially, under the influence of
-heightened emotions. Sometimes they are audible even when invisible.
-Only in those narratives which tell of demoniacal beings that are not
-immediately present do demons acquire fairly definite forms. Thus, even
-soul beliefs--which the fear of the uncanny activity of the departed
-soul transforms directly into a sort of demon belief--represent the
-soul in the form of a bird, a snake, or of other specific 'soul
-animals.' The demons of sickness lurking within the diseased body
-are usually portrayed as fantastic animals, whose monstrous forms
-reflect the terrible distress and the torturing pains of sickness.
-These animals hinder respiration and bore into and lacerate the
-intestines. Thus, they objectify both the pain of the sickness and the
-fear aroused in the community by the behaviour of the sick person. No
-less, however, can the impression of the desert, the dark forest, the
-lonely ravine, or the terror of an approaching storm cause demons,
-which are in first instance invisible, to assume definite shapes. Where
-there is a more highly developed sense of nature, such as begins to
-manifest itself in the heroic age, this objectification of impressions
-occurs not only under the influence of strong excitement but also in
-connection with the peaceful landscape. Here it gives rise to more
-friendly beings, in the case of whom those characteristics, at least,
-which made the original demon an object of terror, are moderated so
-as to find expression in magic of a playful sort. This is the origin
-of satyrs, sylphs and fauns, of gnomes, giants and dwarfs, elves,
-fairies, etc., all of whom are debarred from personality by their very
-multiplicity, while their generic character accurately reflects the
-mood which led to their creation. The individualization of certain of
-these beings is, in general, due to poetry. But even poetry does not
-entirely succeed in freeing the demon from the generic character which
-once for all represents its nature. Thus, it is the contrast between
-genericalness and individual personality that differentiates the demon
-from the god. Every gnome resembles every other, and all nymphs are
-alike; hence these beings are generally referred to in the plural.
-Their multiplicity is such that they are imaged in only indefinite
-forms, except in cases where particularly strong emotions excite a
-more lively imagination. Indeed, they may be present to consciousness
-solely as a peculiar feeling associated with particular places or
-occasions, such as is the case with the Lares, Manes, and Penates of
-the Romans, and with the similar guardian spirits of the house and
-the field common among many peoples. Some of these guardian spirits
-are not very unlike the ancestors of cult. But this only indicates
-that the ancestor worshipped in cult also approximates to the demon,
-acquiring a more personal character only in occasional instances in
-which memory has preserved with considerable faithfulness the traits of
-a particularly illustrious ancestor. Here, then, we have the condition
-underlying the origin of gods. Gods are universally the result of a
-_union of demoniacal and heroic elements_. The god is at once demon
-and hero; since, however, the demoniacal element in him magnifies his
-heroic attributes into the superhuman, and since the personal character
-which he borrows from the hero supersedes the indefinite and impersonal
-nature of the demon, he is exalted above them both: the god himself is
-neither hero nor demon, because he combines in himself the attributes
-of both, in an ideally magnified form.
-
-The resemblance of demons to gods is due primarily to the magic power
-which they exert. The demons of sickness torture and destroy men; the
-cloud demons bring rain and blessing to the fields, or plot ruin when
-rain does not relieve the drought of the burning sun. By means of
-magic incantations and ceremonies, these demons can be won over, or,
-when angry, reconciled. Their own activity, therefore, is magical,
-and, as regards the effects that it produces, superhuman. In their
-fleeting and impersonal character, however, they are subhuman. Since
-the dominant emotions that call them into being are fear and terror,
-they are generally regarded as enemies not only of man but even of the
-gods. The struggle between gods and nature-demons is a recurrent theme
-in the cosmogonies of all cultural peoples. This hostility between
-demons and gods is connected with the contrast in the feelings evoked
-by darkness and radiant brightness. Hence the mighty nature-demons are,
-as a rule, consigned to gloomy abysses, from which they rise to the sky
-only occasionally, as, for example, in the case of thunder-clouds. The
-abode of the gods, however, is in the bright celestial realms, and they
-themselves are radiant beings upon whose activity the harmonious order
-of nature and the happiness of mankind are dependent. In the strife
-which the demons carry on with gods, they occasionally develop into
-counter-gods, as occurred in the case of the Persian Ahriman and the
-Jewish-Christian Satan. Yet it is significant of the almost insuperable
-lack of personality characteristic of the demon, that even these
-counter-gods of darkness and evil are wanting in _one trait_ which is
-indispensable for a completely developed personality--namely, changes
-in motives and the capacity to determine at will the nature of these
-changes. Herein, again, is reflected the fact that the demon has but a
-_single_ source--namely, fear.
-
-Very different from the relation of the god to the demon is his
-relation to the hero. The hero, to a greater extent even than the god,
-is the complete opposite of the demon. For the hero is an idealized
-man. He is subject to all human destinies, to sickness and death,
-to afflictions of the soul, and to violent passions. Yet in all
-these instances the experiences are of a more exalted nature than
-in the case of ordinary human life. The life as well as the death
-of the hero are of wide import; the effects of his deeds extend to
-distant lands and ages. But it is just because the hero is the ideal
-man himself that he possesses all the more markedly the attribute
-which the demon lacks--namely, _personality_. This, of course, does
-not prevent his character from exhibiting generic differences and
-antitheses. But herein also the hero is only the idealized counterpart
-of man, for, despite all its uniqueness and individuality, man's
-character usually conforms to certain types. Thus, legend introduces
-the strong, all-conquering hero, and, in contrast with him, the hero
-who is resourceful and overcomes his enemies through subtle cunning.
-It tells of the aged man, superior in wisdom and experience, and also
-of him who, in the unbroken strength of youth and with stormy passion,
-overthrows all opponents. It further portrays the hero who plots evil,
-but who is nevertheless characterized by a sharply defined personality.
-
-When we survey these various heroic figures in both their generic and
-their individual aspects and compare them with the god-personalities,
-we are struck by the fact that the god was not created directly in
-the image of a man, but rather in that of the hero, man idealized. It
-is the hero who gives to the gods those very characteristics which
-the demon lacks from the outset. Of these, the most important are
-personality, self-consciousness, and a will controlled by diverse
-and frequently conflicting motives. This multiplicity of motives
-has a close connection with the multiplicity of gods. Polytheism is
-not an accidental feature which may or may not accompany the belief
-in gods; it is a necessary transitional stage in the development of
-the god-idea. Folk-belief, which never frees itself entirely from
-mythology, always retains a plurality of divine beings. Hence true
-monotheism represents a philosophical development of the god-idea.
-Though this development was not without influence on the theological
-speculation which was dominated by traditional doctrines, it was never
-able to uproot the polytheistic tendency involved in the god-idea
-from the very beginning. There are two sources from which this
-tendency springs. Of these, one is external and, therefore, though
-of great importance for the beginnings of religious development, is
-transitory. It consists in the influence exerted by the multiplicity
-of natural phenomena, through the nature myth, upon the number of
-gods. More important and of more permanent significance is the second
-or _internal_ motive, namely, the fact that the psychical needs that
-come to expression in the demand for gods are numerous. There cannot
-be a single god-ideal any more than a single type of hero. On the
-contrary, as heroes exhibit the diversity of human effort on an exalted
-plane, so, in turn, does the realm of gods represent, on a still
-higher level, the world of heroes. This advance beyond the hero-ideal
-becomes possible to the mythological imagination only because the
-very endeavour to exalt the hero above the human itself brought the
-hero-idea, at the very time of its origin, into connection with the
-demon-idea. For the demon is a superhuman being, magic-working and
-unpredictable, affecting in mysterious ways the course of nature and of
-human destiny. But it lacks the familiar human traits which make the
-hero an object not only of fear but also of admiration and love. Thus,
-the fusion of hero and demon results in the final and the greatest of
-mythological creations, the conception which represents the birth of
-religion in the proper and ultimately only true sense of the word. I
-refer to _the rise of gods_.
-
-The god-idea, accordingly, is the product of _two_ component factors.
-One of these, the demoniacal, has had a long history, extending back
-to the beginnings of mythological thought; the other, the heroic,
-begins to assert itself the very moment that the figure of the hero
-appears. This implies that god-ideas are neither of sudden origin
-nor unchangeable, but that they undergo a gradual development. The
-direction of development is determined by the relation which its two
-component factors sustain to each other. The earliest god-ideas are
-predominantly demoniacal in nature--personal characteristics are few,
-while magical features are all the more pronounced. Then the heroic
-element comes to the fore, until it finally acquires such dominance
-that even the magical power of the god appears to be a result of his
-heroic might, rather than a survival of the demoniacal nature which
-was his from the very beginning. In connection with this change, it
-is significant to note that, as the god loses his original demoniacal
-character, he comes to be attended by subservient beings who remain,
-in every respect, demons. On the one hand, these beings execute the
-divine commands; on the other hand, however--as an echo, one might say,
-of the age of demons which precedes that of gods--they are superior
-even to the gods in that they possess magical powers. These beings
-must be regarded as survivals of the age of demons. Between them and
-the gods proper there are intermediate beings, just as there are
-between heroes and gods, those of the latter sort being exemplified
-particularly by such heroes as have been exalted into deities. Inasmuch
-as all the intermediate forms that arise in the course of this
-transition continue in existence even up to the culmination of the
-development, the gods constantly become more numerous. Side by side
-with the gods, demons maintain their sway. At times, they contend with
-the gods; in other instances, they are subservient to them; again,
-as in the earliest periods of mythological thought, they are without
-any knowledge whatsoever of the existence of gods. The hero also is
-invariably associated with the god. With the decline of the heroic age,
-therefore, the realm of gods also disappears. Though the religious
-developments that ensue have their origin in deity beliefs, they
-nevertheless discard the original nucleus of these beliefs--namely, the
-gods themselves--or, at any rate, they retain gods only in a greatly
-altered form.
-
-That gods belong essentially to the heroic age appears also in the fact
-that the divine realm mirrors in detail the relations of political
-society developed subsequently to the beginning of the heroic age.
-The world of gods likewise forms a divine _State_. It is at most at
-an early period that the tribal gods of various peoples betray the
-influence of the ancient tribal organization that preceded the State.
-In the supremacy of a single god, however, the idea of rulership, which
-is basal to the State, is transferred also to the divine realm. This is
-true whether the ruling deity exercises command over a subservient host
-of demons and subordinate gods, or whether he has at his side a number
-of independent gods, who represent, in part, an advisory council, such
-as is found associated with the earthly ruler, and, in part, since the
-different gods possess diverse powers, a sort of celestial officialdom.
-Finally, the multiplicity of independent States is mirrored in the
-multiplicity of the independent realms ruled over by the gods. The
-differentiation, in this latter case, corresponds with the main
-directions of human interest. The development is influenced, moreover,
-by those natural phenomena that have long factored in the capacity of
-assimilative elements. Over against the bright celestial gods are the
-subterranean gods who dwell in the gloomy depths. For the inhabitants
-of the sea-coast and of islands, furthermore, there is a ruler of the
-sea. The importance of the god of the sea, however, is subordinate to
-that of the rulers of the celestial and the nether worlds, so that
-those over whom he holds sway never develop into clearly defined
-personalities, but always retain more of a demoniacal character. All
-the more important, therefore, are the contrasts between the celestial
-and the nether worlds, as the two realms which include the real destiny
-of man. At death, man must enter the nether world; to rise from the
-gloom of this realm of the dead to the heaven and immortality of the
-celestial gods becomes his longing. Thus, deity beliefs enter into
-reciprocal relations with soul conceptions. The further stages of
-this development carry us far beyond the heroic age, and reflect the
-influence of a diversity of motives. The discussion of this point will
-occupy our attention in later pages.
-
-
-[1] Concerning this alleged monotheism among primitive peoples, cf.
-supra, pp.78 f.
-
-
-
-12. THE HERO SAGA.
-
-
-If the gods be described as personalities, each one of whom possesses
-a more or less definite individuality, it is at once evident that
-the conception of an animated natural phenomenon--the idea, for
-example, that the setting sun is a being which a dark cloud-demon is
-devouring--cannot in and of itself as yet be called a god-idea. Just as
-the character of a man may be known only from the manner in which he
-reacts towards the objects of his experience, so also is the nature
-of a god revealed only in his life and activity, and in the motives
-that determine his conduct. The character of the god is expressed, not
-in any single mythological picture, but in the _myth_ or mythological
-tale, in which the god figures as a personal agent. It is significant
-to note, however, that the form of myth in which god-ideas come to
-development is not the deity saga, in the proper sense of the term, but
-the _hero saga_, which becomes a combined hero and deity saga as soon
-as both gods and heroes are represented as participating in the action.
-The deity saga proper, which deals exclusively with the deeds of gods
-and demons, is, as we shall see below, only of secondary and of later
-origin. It is not to such deity sagas, therefore, that we must turn if
-we would learn the original nature of gods. This circumstance in itself
-offers external evidence of the fact that gods did not precede heroes,
-but, conversely, that heroes preceded gods. Or, at least, to be more
-accurate, the idea of the divine personality was developed in constant
-reciprocity with that of the hero personality, in such wise, however,
-that with reference to details the hero paved the way for the god, and
-not conversely.
-
-But how did the idea of hero arise? Was it a free and completely
-new creation of this age, based merely on actual observations of
-individuals who were paragons of human ability? Or did it have
-precursors in the totemic era? As a matter of fact, this second
-question must be answered unqualifiedly in the affirmative. The hero
-was not unknown in the preceding age. At that time, however, he was
-not a hero in the specific sense which the word first acquired in
-the heroic age; on the contrary, he was a _märchen_-hero, if we may
-use the word 'hero' in connection with the concepts of this earlier
-period. On the threshold of the heroic age, the märchen-hero changes
-into the hero proper. The former represents the central theme of the
-earlier form of myth narrative, the märchen-myth, as does the hero
-that of the more developed form, the saga. The marks that distinguish
-the märchen-hero, as he still survives in children's tales, from the
-hero of saga, are important ones and are fraught with significance
-for the development of myth as a whole. The märchen-hero is usually a
-_child_. In the form in which he gradually approximates to the hero
-proper, he is more especially, as a rule, a boy who goes forth into
-the world and meets with adventures. In these adventures, he is aided
-by various powers of magic, which he either himself possesses or which
-are imparted to him by friendly magical beings. Opposed to him are
-hostile, demoniacal beings, who seek his destruction. It is in their
-overthrow that the action usually consists. Thus, fortune comes to this
-hero, in great part, from without, and magic plays the decisive rôle
-in his destiny; his own cunning and skill may be co-operating factors,
-but they rarely determine the outcome. Not so the hero of the saga.
-This hero is not a boy, but a _man_. The favourite theme of the saga is
-particularly the young man in the bloom of life. In his acts, moreover,
-this hero is dependent, for the most part, upon himself. True, he, as
-well as the märchen-hero, is familiar with magic and miracle, but it is
-primarily by his own power that he overcomes the hostile forces that
-oppose him. A suggestive illustration of this is Hercules, that figure
-of Greek saga who is pre-eminently the typical hero among the most
-diverse peoples and in widely different ages. Hercules is an entirely
-self-dependent hero. He indeed performs marvellous deeds, but these are
-never more than extreme instances of what an ordinary man might do were
-his strength multiplied a hundred or a thousand fold. Hercules is not
-a magician, but a being of transcendent power and strength. As such,
-he is able even to carry the weight of the sky on his shoulders; as
-such, he can overcome monsters, such as the Nemean lion and the Lernæan
-hydra, or bring Cerberus, the most terrible of these monsters, from
-the nether world. These are deeds which surpass every measure of human
-power, but which nevertheless still lie in the general plane of human
-actions. Thus, just as the magic-working boy was superseded by the man
-of might, so also does the true magical hero disappear from mythology.
-The saga, then, differs from the märchen-myth in the character of its
-hero. The Hercules saga itself, however, is an illustration of the
-fact that the former may have no connection whatsoever with historical
-events, any more than has the latter. Moreover, the earliest sagas,
-particularly, not infrequently still remind one of the märchen in that
-they are obviously a composite of several narratives. Of this fact
-also, the saga of Hercules offers a conspicuous example. The deeds of
-the hero appear to have but an accidental connection with one another.
-True, later sagas represent these deeds as adventures which the hero
-undertook at the command of King Eurystheus of Mycene. But even here
-we obviously have only a loose sort of framework which was at some
-later period imposed upon the original tales in order to bind the cycle
-together as a whole. It is not improbable that these various sagas of a
-hero who vanquished monsters, rendered lands habitable, and performed
-other deeds, originated independently of one another. Not only may
-their places of origin have been different, but their narratives may
-have had their settings in different localities. Possibly, therefore,
-it was not until later that the sagas were combined to portray the
-character of a single individual, who thus became exalted into the
-national hero. But, though the hero saga resembles the märchen in the
-fact that it grows by the agglutination of diverse legendary materials,
-it differs from it in the possession of a characteristic which is
-typical of this stage of development. That which binds together the
-separate elements of the hero saga is a unitary thought, generally
-associated with great cultural changes or with historical events.
-
-There is a further differentia of the saga as compared with the
-märchen. Wherever magic enters into the saga to affect the course of
-events, the chief vehicle of magical powers is not the hero himself--at
-most, he has been equipped by others with magical powers and
-implements. Such demoniacal powers as the saga may introduce into its
-narrative are usually vested in accessory persons. This fact is closely
-connected with the self-dependent character of the hero-personality,
-who may, it is true, employ magic in so far as he has received such
-power from external sources, but who himself possesses none but human
-attributes. The saga of the Argonauts, for example, is so replete
-with magic as not to be surpassed in this respect even by the magical
-märchen. Moreover, the various elements incorporated in the saga are
-all pure märchen motives--the golden fleece, the talking ship, the
-closing cliffs, as well as the sorceress Medea and the whole wonderland
-of Colchis. Those who man the Argo, however, are not magicians, but
-heroes in the strictly human sense of the word. The same fact stands
-out even more strikingly in the case of the saga of Odysseus, at any
-rate in the form in which the Homeric epic presents it. We may here
-discern an entire cycle of tales, whose separate elements are also to
-be found elsewhere, some of them in wide distribution. But in the midst
-of this märchen-world stands the absolutely human hero, contrasting
-with whom the fabulous events of the narrative run their course as a
-fantastic show. The hero overcomes all obstacles that block the course
-of his journey by his own never-failing shrewdness and resourcefulness.
-Herein again the märchen-myth gives evidence of being preparatory to
-the hero saga. At the time when the hero ideal arose, the old märchen
-ideas were as yet everywhere current. Together with the belief in
-demons and magic, they, also, found their way into the heroic age.
-For a long time they continued to be favourite secondary themes,
-introduced in portraying the destiny of heroes. Nevertheless märchen
-ideas became subordinate to the delineation of heroic figures, whose
-surpassing strength was described, very largely, in terms of victory
-over demoniacal powers. Thus, in the course of the development, the
-heroic elements gradually increased; the märchen ideas, on the other
-hand, disappeared, except when some poet intentionally selected them
-for the enrichment of his tale, as was obviously done by the author of
-the Odyssey.
-
-The disappearance of the elements derived from the märchen-myth,
-however, must in part be attributed to another factor. This factor,
-which is closely bound up with the entire culture of the heroic age,
-consists in the increasing influence of _historical recollections_.
-Particularly illuminative, as regards this point, are the Greek and
-Germanic sagas. The sagas of Hercules and the Argonauts, which, from
-this point of view, belong to a relatively early stage, are purely
-mythical creations. So far as one can see, no actual events are
-referred to by them. The Trojan saga, on the other hand, clearly
-exhibits the traces of historical recollections; its historical
-setting, moreover, seems to cause the events that transpire within it
-to approximate more nearly to the character of real life. Even here,
-indeed, ancient magical motives still cast their fantastic shadows
-over the narrative. Occasionally, however, the miracle appears in a
-rationalized form. The magician of the märchen gives place to the seer
-who predicts the future. What the miracle effected is now accomplished
-by the overpowering might and the baffling cunning of the strong and
-wily hero. In this change, the external accessories may sometimes
-remain the same, so that it is only the inner motives that become
-different. Thus, it is not impossible that the wooden horse which
-was said to have been invented by Odysseus and to have brought into
-Troy the secreted warriors of the besieging hosts, was at one time,
-in märchen or in saga, an actual magical horse, or a help-bringing
-deity who had assumed this form. In this case, the poet may possibly
-be presenting a rationalistic reinterpretation of an older magical
-motive, with the aim of exalting the craftiness of his hero. In the
-account of Achilles' youth, on the other hand, and in the story of
-Helen which the poet takes as his starting-point, the märchen-idea of
-the saga obviously affects the action itself, though it is significant
-to note that these purely mythical features do not belong to the plot
-so much as to its antecedent history. In so far as the heroes directly
-affect the course of action, they are portrayed as purely human. The
-same is true of the German _Niebelungen_ saga. Just as Achilles, a
-mythical hero not at all unlike the märchen-hero, was taken over into
-the historical saga, so also was Siegfried. But here again the märchen
-motives, such as the fight with the dragon, Siegfried's invulnerability
-through bathing in its blood, the helmet of invisibility, and others,
-belong to the past history of the hero, and are mentioned only
-incidentally in the narrative itself. By referring these specifically
-märchen miracles to the past, the saga seems to say, as it were, that
-its heroes were at one time märchen-heroes.
-
-In this course of development from the purely mythical to the
-historical, the saga may approach no more closely to historical reality
-than does the purely mythical tale. But while this may be the case, it
-is nevertheless true that the saga more and more approximates to that
-which is _historically possible_. Moreover, it is not those sagas which
-centre about an historical hero that are particularly apt to be free
-from elements of the original märchen. Very often the reverse is true.
-An original märchen-hero may become the central figure of an historical
-saga, and, conversely, the account of an historical personality may
-become so thoroughly interwoven with märchen-like tales of all sorts
-that history entirely disappears. A striking antithesis of this sort
-occurs in Germanic mythology. Compare the _Dietrich_ saga with the
-later development of the _Niebelungen_ saga in the form rendered
-familiar by the _Niebelungenlied_. Siegfried of the _Niebelungen_ saga
-originates purely as a märchen-hero; Dietrich of Bern is an historical
-personage. But, while the _Niebelungenlied_ incorporates a considerable
-number of historical elements--though, of course, in an unhistorical
-combination--the Dietrich of the saga retains little more than the name
-of the actual king of the Goths. There are two different conditions
-that give rise to sagas. In the first place, historical events that
-live in folk-memory assimilate materials of ancient märchen and sagas,
-and thus lead to a connected hero saga. Secondly, an impressive
-historical personality stimulates the transference of older myths as
-well as the creation of others, though these, when woven into a whole,
-resemble a märchen-cycle rather than a hero saga proper.
-
-An important intermediate phenomenon of the sort just mentioned,
-is not infrequently to be found in a specific form of myth whose
-general nature is that of the hero saga, even though it is usually
-distinguished from the latter because of the character of its heroes.
-I refer to the _religious legend_. Some of these legends, such as the
-Buddha, the Mithra, and the Osiris legends, border upon the deity
-saga. Nevertheless, the religious legend, as exemplified also in the
-mythological versions of the life of Jesus, represents an offshoot of
-the hero saga, springing up at those times when the religious impulses
-are dominant. That it is a hero saga is evidenced particularly by
-the fact that it recounts the life and deeds of a personality who is
-throughout exalted above human stature, but who, nevertheless, attains
-to divinity only through his striving, his suffering, and his final
-victory. In so far, the religious hero very closely resembles the
-older class of heroes. Nevertheless, instead of the hero of the heroic
-period, pre-eminent for his external qualities, we have the religious
-hero, who is exalted by his inner worth into a redeeming god. But it
-is only because these divine redeemers fought and conquered as men--a
-thing that would be impossible to gods proper who are exalted from the
-beginning in supermundane glory--that they constitute heroes of saga,
-in spite of the fact that they fought with other weapons and in other
-ways than the heroes of the heroic age. And, therefore, none of these
-redeemer personalities, whether they have an historical background,
-as have Jesus and Buddha, or originate entirely in the realm of the
-mythological imagination, as in the case of Osiris and Mithra, belong
-to the realm of the saga once they are finally elevated into deities.
-Even Buddha's return in the endless sequence of ages is not to be
-regarded as an exception to this rule, for the hope of salvation here
-merely keeps projecting into the future the traditional Buddha legend.
-The redeeming activity of the one who is exalted into a god is to be
-repeated in essentially the same manner as the saga reports it to have
-occurred in the past.
-
-Contrasting with the redemption legend is the _saint legend_. The
-former portrays the fortunes and final victory of a god in the making;
-the latter tells of the awakening of a human being to a pure religious
-life, of his temptations and sufferings, and his final triumph. Thus,
-it has a resemblance to the redeemer legend, and yet it differs from
-it in that its hero remains human even when he ascends into heaven to
-receive the victor's crown; the lot that thus befalls him is identical
-with that of all the devout, except that he is more favoured. This
-leads to further differences. The hero of the redemption legend is
-conscious of his mission from the very beginning; in the case of
-the saint, conversion to a new faith not infrequently forms the
-starting-point of the legend. Common to the two forms, however, is
-the fact that suffering precedes the final triumph. The traits that
-we have mentioned constitute the essential difference between these
-forms of the legend and the hero saga proper. The latter, also, is not
-without the element of suffering; the Greek saga has developed the
-specific type of a suffering hero in the figure of Hercules, as has
-the German saga in that of Balder. In the case of religious legends,
-however, the strife-motives of the saga are transferred to the inner
-life; similarly, the suffering of the saint, and especially that of
-the redeemer, is not merely physical but also mental. Indeed, the
-original form of the Buddha legend, which is freest from mythological
-accretions, is an illustration of the fact that this suffering may
-be caused exclusively by the evils of the world to be redeemed. The
-suffering due to a most intense sympathy is so intimate a part of the
-very nature of the redeeming god-man, that it is precisely this which
-constitutes the most essential difference between the religious legend
-and the ordinary hero saga, whose interest is centred upon the actions
-and motives of external life. And yet the external martyrdom of the
-redeemer intensifies this difference in a twofold way. In the first
-place, it directly enhances the impression of the inner suffering;
-secondly, it gives heightened expression both to the evil which evokes
-the sympathy of the redeemer, and to the nobility of this sympathy
-itself. In all of these characteristics, however, the redemption
-legend belongs to the following era rather than to hero saga and the
-heroic age.
-
-The saint legend exhibits a number of essential differences. It is
-frequently only through a miracle of conversion, due to external
-powers, that the saint _becomes_ holy; moreover, it is not, as a rule,
-through miracles of his own performance that he manifests himself as
-a saint in the course of his later life and sufferings. The miracles
-that transpire come as divine dispensations from without, whether
-they effect his conversion or surround him, particularly at the close
-of his life's journey, with the halo of sanctity. Thus, to whatever
-extent the saint may come, in later cult, to supersede the protective
-undergods and demons of early times, he nevertheless remains human. It
-is for this very reason, however, that magic and miracle gain a large
-place in his life. The latter is all the more possible by virtue of
-the fact that the mythological imagination is not bound by any fixed
-tradition, and need, therefore, set itself no limits whatsoever either
-in the number of saints or in the nature of their deeds. Moreover,
-the legend is almost totally lacking in those factual elements which
-the hero saga acquires, in its later development, as a result of the
-historical events that are woven into it. This is not the case with
-the legend. Here it is at most the name of an historical personality
-that is retained, while everything else clearly bears the marks of
-imagination and of myth creation. Hence the saint legend is not to
-be counted among the factors that underlie the development from the
-purely mythical tale to the saga, whose content, though not real, is at
-any rate possible. On the contrary, the tendency of the saint legend
-is retrogressive, namely, toward a return to the märchen stage of
-myth. This is all the more true, not merely because elements that are
-generally characteristic of märchen are disseminated from legend to
-legend, but also because the saint legend appropriates widely current
-märchen conceptions. Märchen of very diverse origins found their way
-into the Christian, as well as the Buddhistic, legends; moreover,
-occasional Buddhistic legends, with the clear marks of an Oriental
-origin upon them, were changed into Christian legends. Thus, the saint
-legend combines two characteristics. As compared with the hero saga,
-its motives are internalized; moreover, it represents a decided relapse
-into the pure märchen form of myth. Though apparently contradictory,
-these characteristics are really closely related, inasmuch as the
-internalization of motives itself removes any barriers imposed by
-historical recollection upon the free play of the mythological
-imagination.
-
-
-
-13. COSMOGONIC AND THEOGONIC MYTHS.
-
-
-In view of the relationship of heroes and gods, not only with respect
-to origin but also as regards the fact that they both embody personal
-ideals, it would appear but natural, having treated of the hero saga,
-that we inquire at this time concerning the corresponding deity saga. A
-search for the latter, however, will at once reveal a surprising fact.
-There is no deity saga at all, in the sense in which we have a hero
-saga that has become a favourite field of epic and dramatic poetry.
-The reason for this lack is not difficult to see. There can be no real
-deity saga because, in so far as gods possess characteristics which
-differentiate them from men, and therefore also from heroes, they have
-no history. Immortal, unchangeable, unassailable by death or sickness,
-how could experiences such as befall the hero also be the lot of gods?
-If we examine the narratives that approach somewhat to the deity saga,
-we will find that they consist, not of a connected account of the
-experiences of the gods, but of isolated incidents that again centre
-about human life, and particularly about the beneficent or pernicious
-intervention of the gods in the destinies of heroes. We may recall the
-participation of the Greek gods in the Trojan war, or the interest of
-Jahve, in Israelitic saga, in the fortunes of Abraham, Jacob, etc.
-These are isolated occurrences, and not history; or, rather, we are
-given the history of heroes, in which the gods are at times moved to
-intervene. In so far, therefore, as there are approximations to deity
-saga, these, in their entirety, are woven into hero saga; apart from
-the latter, the former but report particular actions, which may,
-doubtless, throw light on the personal character of the god, but which
-of themselves do not constitute a connected history. Greek mythology
-offers a clear illustration of this in the so-called Homeric hymns.
-These hymns must not be ascribed to Homer or merely to singers of
-Homeric times. They are of later composition, and are designed for
-use in cult. Their value consists precisely in the fact that they
-portray the god by reference to the various directions of his activity,
-thus throwing light partly on the nature of the god and partly, and
-especially, on his beneficent rulership of the human world. It is this
-last fact that gives these poems the character of religious hymns.
-
-Nevertheless, there is _one_ class of myths in which the gods
-themselves actually appear to undergo experiences. I refer to those
-sagas and poems which are concerned with the birth of the gods,
-and with the origin of their rulership over the world and over the
-world-order which they have created, namely, to the _cosmogonic_ and
-_theogonic_ myths. These myths relate solely to a world of demons and
-gods, and they deal, as a rule, with an age prior to the existence of
-man, or with one in which the creation of man is but a single episode.
-Again, however, one might almost say that the exception proves the
-rule. For upon close examination it will be found that the gods who
-figure in these cosmogonies are not those with whose traits the hero
-saga, and the hymnology connected with it, have made us familiar.
-The gods whom the cosmogonic myths portray differ from those who
-protect and direct human life. They are not real gods, even though
-they bear this name, but are powerful demons. Except in name, the
-Zeus of Hesiodic theogony has scarcely anything in common with the
-Zeus of the Homeric hierarchy of gods. This fact does not reflect any
-peculiarity of the poet, as it were, but is due to the nature of the
-subject-matter itself. Even though theogonic myths were not elaborated
-into poetic form until a relatively late period, they are nevertheless
-of a primitive nature. Analogues to them had existed among primitive
-peoples long before the rise of the hero saga, hence at an age when
-the preconditions of god-ideas proper were still entirely lacking.
-The cosmogonic gods of the Greeks and Germans, as well as those of
-the ancient Babylonians, are of the nature of purely demoniacal
-beings. They lack the chief attribute of a god, namely, personality.
-Moreover, the myths themselves--if we disregard their form, which was
-the product of later literary composition--are not at all superior to
-the cosmogonies of the Polynesians and of many of the native tribes
-of North America. Obviously, therefore, it betokens a confusion of
-god-ideas proper with these cosmogonic beings, when it is maintained,
-as sometimes occurs, that the mythology of these primitive peoples,
-especially that of the Polynesians, is of a particularly advanced
-character. This should not be claimed for it, but neither may this be
-said of the Hesiodic theogony or the Babylonian creation myths. It
-is true that these myths are superior to the earlier forms of demon
-belief, for they at least develop a connected view of the origin of
-things. Primitive myth accepts the world as given. The origin of the
-world-order as a whole still lies beyond its field of inquiry. Though
-it occasionally relates how animals came into being, its imagination is
-essentially concerned with the origin of man, whom it regards as having
-sprung from stones or plants, or as having crept up out of caves. Even
-when this stage is transcended and an actual cosmogony arises, the
-latter nevertheless remains limited to the circle of demon conceptions,
-which are essentially the same in the myths of civilized peoples as in
-those of so-called peoples of nature. According to a cosmogonic myth of
-the Polynesians, for example, heaven and earth were originally a pair
-of mighty gods united in embrace. The sons who were born to these gods
-strove to free themselves and their parents from this embrace. Placing
-himself on the floor of mother earth, therefore, and extending his feet
-toward the heavens, one of these sons pushed father heaven upward, so
-that ever since that time heaven and earth have been separated. This
-mistreatment aroused another of the divine sons, the god of the winds.
-Thus a strife arose, whose outcome was a peaceful condition of things.
-This is a cosmogonic myth whose essential elements belong to the same
-circle of ideas as the cosmogony of the Greeks. In the latter also,
-Uranus and Gæa are said to have held each other in an embrace, as the
-result of which there came the race of the Titans. One might regard
-this as a case of transference were the idea not obviously a grotesque
-development of a märchen-motive found even at a more primitive period.
-According to the latter, heaven and earth were originally in contact,
-and were first separated by a human being of prehistoric times--an idea
-undoubtedly suggested by the roofing-over of the hut. The Babylonian
-myth gives a different version of the same conception. It ascribes the
-separation of heaven and earth to the powerful god Marduk, who cleaves
-in two the original mother Thiamat. From one part, came the sea; from
-the other, the celestial ocean. As in many other nature myths, heaven
-is here conceived as a great sea which forms the continuation, at the
-borders of the earth, of the terrestrial sea. This then suggests the
-further idea that the crescent moon is a boat moving over the celestial
-ocean.
-
-In all of these myths the gods are given the characteristics of mighty
-demons. They appear as the direct descendants of the ancient cloud,
-water, and weather demons, merely magnified into giant stature in
-correspondence with their enormous theatre of action. Thus, as regards
-content, these cosmogonic myths are märchen of a very primitive type,
-far inferior to the developed märchen-myths, whose heroes have already
-acquired traits of a more personal sort. In form, however, cosmogonic
-myths strive towards the gigantic, and thus lie far above the level of
-the märchen-myth. Though the complete lack of ethical traits renders
-the gods of cosmogonic myths inferior in sublimity to gods proper,
-they nevertheless rival the latter in powerful achievement. Indeed,
-however much cosmogony may fail to give its gods the characteristics
-requisite for true gods, it does inevitably serve to enhance the divine
-attribute of power. A further similarity of cosmogonic and theogonic
-myths to the most primitive märchen-myths appears in the fact that
-they seem directly to borrow certain elements from widely disseminated
-märchen-motives. I mention only the story of Kronos. Kronos, according
-to the myth, devours his children. But his wife, Rhea, withholds
-the last of these--namely, Zeus--giving him instead a stone wrapped
-in linen; hereupon Kronos gives forth, together with the stone, all
-the children that he had previously devoured. This is a märchen of
-devourment, similar or derivative forms of which are common. For
-example, Sikulume, a South African märchen-hero, delays pursuing giants
-by throwing behind him a large stone which he has besmeared with fat;
-the giants devour the stone and thus lose trace of the fugitive.
-
-But there is also other evidence that cosmogonic myths are of the
-nature of märchen, magnified into the immense and superhuman. In
-almost all such myths, particularly in the more advanced forms, as
-found among cultural peoples, an important place is occupied by _two_
-conceptions. The first of these conceptions is that the creation of
-the world was preceded by _chaos_. This chaos is conceived either as a
-terrifying abyss, as in Germanic and particularly in Greek mythology,
-or as a world-sea encompassing the earth, as in the Babylonian history
-of creation. In both cases we find ideas of terrible demons. Sometimes
-these demons are said to remain on the earth, as beings of a very
-ancient time anteceding the creation--examples are Night and Darkness,
-described in Greek mythology as the children of Chaos. Other myths
-represent the demons as having been overcome by the world-creating god.
-Thus there is a Babylonian saga that tells of an original being which
-enveloped the earth in the form of a snake, but whose body was used
-by the god in forming the heavens. As a second essential element of
-cosmogonies we find accounts of _battles of the gods_, in which hostile
-demons are vanquished and a kingdom of order and peace is established.
-These demons are thought of as powerful monsters. They induce a live
-consciousness of the terrors of chaos, not only by their size and
-strength but often also by their grotesque, half-animal, half-human
-forms, by their many heads or hundreds of arms. Obviously these
-Titans, giants, Cyclopes, and other terrible beings of cosmogony are
-the direct descendants of the weather demons who anteceded the gods.
-Does not the idea of a world-catastrophe that prepares the way for the
-rulership of the gods at once bring to mind the image of a terrible
-thunderstorm? As the storm is followed by the calm of nature, so chaos
-is succeeded by the peaceful rulership of the gods. Inasmuch, however,
-as the gods are the conquerors of the storm demons, they themselves
-inevitably revert into demoniacal beings. It is only after the victory
-has been won that they are again regarded as inhabiting a divine world
-conceived in analogy with the human State, and that they are vested
-with control over the order and security of the world.
-
-All this goes to show that cosmogonic myths, in the poetic forms
-in which cosmogonies have come down to us, are relatively late
-mythological products. True, they represent the gods themselves as
-demoniacal beings. Nevertheless, this does not imply that god-ideas
-did not exist at the time of their composition; it indicates merely
-that the enormous diversity of factors involved in the creation
-of the world inevitably caused the gods to lose the attributes of
-personal beings. The cosmogonies of cultural peoples, however, differ
-from the otherwise similar stories of those semi-cultural peoples
-whose mythology consists exclusively of such cosmogonic märchen. In
-the latter case, real god-ideas are lacking. The gods have remained
-essentially demons. In the higher forms of this semi-culture, where
-political development has had an influence on the world of gods, as
-was once the case among the peoples of Mexico and Peru, divine beings
-may approximate to real gods. In cosmogonic myths themselves, however,
-this never occurs. Thus, these myths invariably constitute a stage
-intermediate between the mythology of demons and that of gods; they may
-originate, however--and this is what probably happens in the majority
-of cases--through a relapse of gods into demons. An illustration of
-the latter is the Hesiodic cosmogony. The weather-myth which the poet
-has elaborated obviously incorporated ancient märchen-myths that do
-not differ essentially from the original märchen as to content, but
-only as respects their grotesque and gigantic outlines. Compared with
-the gods of the hero saga, therefore, the cosmogonic myths of cultural
-peoples are of relatively late origin; to discuss the latter first, as
-is still done in our accounts of the mythology of the Greeks, Germans,
-etc., may easily lead to misconceptions. Of course, the creation of
-the world came first, but it is not at all true that the myth of the
-world's creation anteceded all others. On the contrary, the latter is
-a late and sometimes, perhaps, the last product of the mythological
-imagination. This is particularly apt to be the case where, as so
-clearly appears in the Biblical account of the creation, there is
-involved a specific _religious_ impulse that is seeking to glorify
-the world-creating god. This religious impulse imposes upon the older
-mythical material a new character. Hence we find that, of the two
-elements universally characteristic of the cosmogonic myth, it is only
-the idea of chaos that is retained, while the account of struggles with
-the monsters of earliest times disappears. Nevertheless, though the
-creating god has lost his demoniacal character, he has not yet attained
-a fully developed personality;--this is precluded by the enormity of
-the world, which transcends all human measure. He himself is in every
-respect an unlimited personal will, and is, therefore, really just as
-much a _superpersonal_ being as the battling gods of other cosmogonies
-are subpersonal. That such a cosmogony, unique in this respect, may be
-original, is, of course, impossible. Indeed, the dominant conviction
-of Oriental antiquarians to-day is that the Biblical account of the
-creation rests on older and more primitive ideas derived from the
-Babylonian cosmogony, whose main outlines we have described above. This
-may doubtless be true, and yet no compelling proof of the contention
-can be adduced, for it is precisely those features in which both
-accounts are identical--namely, chaos, the original darkness, and the
-separating and ordering activity of the god--that are common property
-to almost all cosmogonies. The Biblical account of the creation,
-however, may not be classed with myths. It is a religious production
-of priests who were dominated by the thought that the national god
-rules over the people of Israel and over the world. Hence alone could
-it substitute a creation out of _nothing_ for the ordering of a chaos,
-though the latter feature also persists in the Biblical account. The
-substitution, of course, dates from a later time than the myth, and
-represents a glorification of divine omnipotence which is entirely
-impossible to the latter.
-
-A sort of offshoot of cosmogonic myths, though in striking antithesis
-to them, is the _flood saga_. This still retains, in their entirety,
-the characteristics of the original märchen-myth. It belongs to a
-variety of widely prevalent myths which, like the creation myths,
-appear to some extent to have originated independently in various
-parts of the earth, but also to have spread widely from one region
-to another. Evidence indicative of the independent origin of many of
-these sagas is to be found in the fact that, in many tropical regions,
-accounts of a flood, or so-called deluge sagas (_Sintflutsagen_), are
-represented by sagas of conflagration (_Sintbrandsagen_), according to
-which the world was destroyed, not by a general deluge, but by fire. In
-neither word has the prefix _Sint_ any connection with _Sünde_ (sin),
-with which popular etymology commonly connects it. _Sint_ (old high
-German _sin_) is a word that has disappeared from modern German and
-means 'universal.' A _Sintflut_, thus, is a _universal_, in distinction
-from a merely local, flood. In so far, the sagas of universal flood
-and conflagration already approximate to the myths relating to the
-destruction of the world. Now, the Biblical story of the flood has
-so many elements in common with that of the Babylonians that we
-are compelled to assume a borrowing, and hence a transference, of
-material. The rescue of a single man and his household, the taking of
-animals into the ship, its landing upon the summit of a mountain, the
-dispatching of birds in quest of land--of these elements, some might
-possibly have originated independently in different parts of the earth.
-The rescue of individuals, for example, is included in almost all
-flood and conflagration legends, the direct source of the idea being
-the connection between the antediluvian and postdiluvian worlds. Of the
-combination of all of these elements into a whole, however, we may say
-without hesitation that it could not have arisen twice independently.
-The universal motive of the flood saga and that which led to its origin
-in numerous localities, without any influence on the part of foreign
-ideas, is obviously the rain as it pours down from the heavens. For
-this reason flood sagas are particularly common wherever rain causes
-devastating and catastrophic floods, whereas they are lacking in such
-regions as the Egyptian delta, where there are periodic inundations
-by the sea, as well as in the Arabian peninsula and in the rainless
-portions of Africa. As a rule, therefore, they are both rain sagas and
-flood sagas. They naturally suggest, further, the idea of a boatman
-who rescues himself in a boat and lands upon a mountain. According to
-an American flood myth which has preserved more faithfully than that
-of western Asia the character of the märchen, the mountain upon which
-the boatman lands rises with the flood and settles again as the flood
-subsides.
-
-The flood sagas of cultural peoples, however, combine these very
-ancient märchen elements with a projection of the cosmogonic myth
-into a later event of human history. The flood deluging the earth is
-a return to chaos; indeed, often, as in the sagas of western Asia,
-chaos itself is represented as a mighty abyss of water. This is then
-connected with the idea of a punishment in which the god destroys
-what he has created, preserving from the universal destruction only
-the righteous man who has proved worthy of such salvation. Thus,
-the universal flood (_Sintflut_) actually develops into a sin flood
-(_Sündflut_). This change, of course, represents an elaboration on
-the part of priests, who projected the religious-ethical feature
-of a divine judgment into what was doubtless originally a purely
-mythological saga, just as they transformed the creation myth into a
-hymn to the omnipotence of the deity. But this prepares the way for
-a further step. The counterpart of these cosmological conceptions
-is projected not merely into a past which marks the beginning of
-the present race of men, but also into the future. Over against the
-transitory world-catastrophe of the universal flood, there looms the
-final catastrophe of the actual destruction of the world, and over
-against a preliminary judgment of the past, the final judgment, at
-which this life ends and that of the yonder world begins.
-
-Thus, we come to the _myths of world destruction_, as they are
-transmitted in the apocalyptic writings of later Israelitic literature
-and in the Apocalypse of John, who betrays the influence of the earlier
-writers. At this point we leave the realm of myth proper. The latter
-is always concerned with events of the past or, in extreme cases, with
-those of the immediate present. No doubt, the desires of men may reach
-out indefinitely into the future. Myth narrative, however, in the
-narrower sense of the term, takes no account of that which lies beyond
-the present. In general, moreover, its scene of action is the existing
-world, however much this may be embellished by the imagination. Myth
-reaches its remotest limit in cosmogonies. Even here, however, no
-absolute limit is attained, for the world-creation is represented as
-having been preceded by chaos. The idea of a creation out of nothing,
-which dislodges the idea of an original chaos, arises from religious
-needs and is not mythological in character. Similarly, the apocalyptic
-myth of world-destruction has passed beyond the stage of the myth
-proper. It is a mythological conception, which, though combining
-elements of the cosmogonic myth with fragments of märchen and sagas,
-is, in the main, the expression of a religious need for a world beyond.
-These myths, therefore, are not original myth creations, as are the
-cosmogonic myths, at least in part. They are the product of religious
-reflection, and, as such, they are dominated primarily by the desire
-to strengthen the righteous in his hopes and to terrify his adversary.
-Thus, the history of the cosmogonic myth here repeats itself in a
-peculiarly inverted form. With the exception of occasional survivals,
-the religious hymn, which is the ripest development of the cosmogonic
-myth, excludes the struggles of demons and wild monsters of the deep;
-the myth of the destruction of the world, on the other hand, constantly
-seeks, by its fantastic imagery, to magnify fears and punishments, as
-well as blessed hopes. As a result, all these accounts clearly bear
-the traces of a laborious invention seeking to surpass itself and thus
-to atone for the lack of original mythological imagination. We may
-call to mind the monster which the Book of Daniel describes as coming
-forth from the sea, provided with enormous iron teeth, and bearing
-on its head ten horns, among which an eleventh horn appears, which
-possesses eyes, and a mouth that speaks blasphemous words. Such things
-may be invented by the intellect, but they are impossible as natural
-creations of the mythological imagination. The motives underlying
-such exaggerations beyond the mythologically possible are to be found
-in factors which, though extending far back into the beginnings of
-mythology, nevertheless attain their development primarily in this age
-of gods and heroes. These factors are the _ideas of the beyond_.
-
-
-
-14. THE BELIEF IN SOULS AND IN A WORLD BEYOND.
-
-
-Closely connected with the cosmogonic myth are the ideas of a world
-beyond into which man may enter at the close of the present life.
-Before such ideas could arise, there must have been some general
-world-conception into which they could be fitted. The ideas of
-a beyond, therefore, are but constituent elements of cosmogonic
-conceptions; indeed, they are confined to relatively advanced forms of
-the latter. This is indicated by the fact that the earlier mythological
-creations contain no clearly defined notions of a beyond. Where there
-is no definite world-view, such conceptions, of course, are impossible.
-Thus, the two ideas mutually reinforce each other. The cosmogonic myth
-gives a large setting to the ideas of a beyond; the latter, in turn,
-contribute to the details of the world picture which the cosmogonic
-myth has created. At any rate, when poetry and philosophy, in their
-endeavour to construct a coherent cosmogony, began to appropriate
-celestial myths, ideas of a life after death and of a world beyond were
-already in existence. Some of these ideas, indeed, date back to an
-early period.
-
-It is an extremely, significant fact that, wherever we can trade their
-development at all, these ideas of a beyond follow the same definite
-and orderly course. The direction of this development is determined not
-only by the cosmogonic myth but also by the ideas regarding the soul.
-The formation of ideas of a beyond is impossible without a world-view
-transcending the limits of earthly existence; the latter, however,
-results from the need of ascribing to the soul a continuance after
-death. This need, of course, is not an original one, but is essentially
-conditioned by the age of gods. Among primitive peoples, the beginnings
-of a belief in a life after death are to be found chiefly in connection
-with the fear of the demon of the dead, who may bring sickness and
-death to the living. But just as the fear is of short duration, so
-also is the survival after death limited to a brief period. On a
-somewhat more advanced stage, as perhaps among the Soudan peoples, most
-of the Melanesian tribes, and the forest-dwelling Indians of South
-America, it is especially the prominent men, the tribal chiefs, who,
-just as they survive longest in memory, are also supposed to enjoy a
-longer after-life. This conception, however, remains indefinite and
-of a demoniacal character, just as does that of the soul. In all of
-these conceptions, therefore, the disembodied soul is represented
-as remaining within this world. It continues its existence in the
-environment; as yet there is no yonder-world in the strict sense of
-the word. It is important, moreover, to distinguish the early ideas
-of a beyond from the above-mentioned celestial märchen which narrate
-how certain human beings ascended into heaven. The latter are purely
-märchen of adventure, in which sun, moon, stars, and clouds, as well
-as the terrestrial monsters, dwarfs, gnomes, etc., are conceived of
-as belonging to the visible world. Indeed, these celestial travellers
-are not infrequently represented as returning unharmed to their
-terrestrial home. Thus, these tales generally lack the idea which,
-from the outset, is essential to the conception of a yonder-world--the
-idea, namely, of _the sojourn of the soul at definite places_, whether
-these be thought of as on, under, or above the earth. Here again, it
-is characteristic that at first this region is located approximately
-midway between this world and the one beyond. The belief takes the
-form of a _spirit-village_, a conception prevalent especially among
-the tribes of American Indians. Inaccessible to living beings and in
-some secret part of the earth, there is supposed to be a village. In
-this village the spirits of the dead are thought to assemble, and
-to continue their existence in precisely the same manner as before
-death, hunting and fighting just as they did in their earthly life.
-The spirit-village itself is described as exactly like an ordinary
-village. Characteristic of the totemic setting which all of these
-ideas still possess, is the fact that among many of the Indians of the
-prairies there is thought to be not only a spirit-village but also a
-buffalo-village, where the dead buffaloes congregate, and into which,
-according to the märchen, an adventurous youth may occasionally stray.
-Sometimes, moreover, these tales give more specific accounts of the way
-in which such villages are rendered inaccessible. A river spanned by an
-almost impassable bridge, or a dense, impenetrable forest, separates
-the spirit-village from the habitations of the living. Ravines and
-mountain caves may either themselves serve as the dwelling-places
-of the spirits or form the approaches to them. In addition to these
-conceptions, there are also others, which have, in part, found a place,
-even in later mythology. The dead are, represented as dwelling, not in
-some accessible part of the earth, but on remote islands. Such ideas
-are common in Polynesia, and also in other island and coast regions.
-Even in Homer we come upon the picture of a distant island. It is
-here that Menelaus found rescue on his return from Troy. The island
-is described as a place of happiness, where only the privileged among
-mortals are granted a blessed future.
-
-A second and, on the whole, an obviously later form of ideas of a
-beyond, are the _myths of the nether world_. These for the first time
-tell of a beyond which is by its very nature inaccessible to human
-beings, or which is visited by only a few divinely privileged heroes,
-such as Hercules, Odysseus, and Æneas. As a third and last form of
-ideas of a beyond, we may mention those of a _heaven_, where dwell the
-dead, in the presence of the gods. As a rule, however, this heavenly
-beyond does not lead to the disappearance of the nether world. Rather
-are the two worlds set over against each other, as the result of the
-enhancement of an antithesis which arose even in connection with
-the realms of the nether world. The heaven becomes the abode of the
-blessed, of the devout and righteous, the favoured of the gods; the
-underworld continues, at the outset, to be the lot of the majority
-of human beings. The growing desire to participate in the joys of
-blessedness, then causes the privilege which was at first enjoyed
-only by a minority to become more universal, and the underworld is
-transformed into the abode of the guilty and the condemned. Finally,
-heaven becomes possible even for the latter, through the agency, more
-particularly, of magical purification and religious ecstasy.
-
-Of the various ideas of the beyond that successively arise in this
-development, those regarding the underworld are the most common and the
-most permanent. This is probably due in no small measure to the custom
-of _burying the corpse_. Here the entrance into the underworld is, to
-a certain extent, directly acted out before the eyes of the observers,
-even though the mythological imagination may later create quite a
-different picture of the event. The custom of burial, however, cannot
-have been the exclusive source of these ideas, nor perhaps even the
-most important one. In the Homeric world, the corpse was not buried,
-but burned. And yet it is to Homer that we owe one of the clearest
-of the older descriptions of the underworld, and it can scarcely be
-doubted that the main outlines of this picture were derived from
-popular conceptions. As a matter of fact, there is another factor,
-purely psychological in character, which is here obviously of greater
-force than are tribal customs. This is the fear of death, and the
-terror of that which awaits man after death. This fear creates the idea
-of a ghostly and terrible region of the dead, cold as the corpse itself
-and dark as the world must appear to its closed eyes. But that which
-is thought of as dark and cold is the interior of the earth, for such
-are the characteristics of mountain caves that harbour uncanny animals.
-The underworld, also, is stocked with creations of fear, particularly
-with subterranean animals, such as toads, salamanders, and snakes of
-monstrous and fantastic forms. Many of the terrible beings which later
-myths represent as living on the earth probably originated as monsters
-of the underworld. Examples of this are the Furies, the Keres, and the
-Harpies of the Greeks. It was only as the result of a later influence,
-not operative at the time of the original conceptions of Hades, that
-myth permitted these beings to wander about the upper world. This
-change was due to the pangs of conscience, which transforms the ghosts
-of the underworld into frightful, avenging beings, and then, as a
-result of the misery visited even upon the living because of the crimes
-which they have committed, transfers them to the mundane world. Here
-they pursue particularly the one who has committed sacrilege against
-the gods, and also him whose sin is regarded as especially grievous,
-such as the parricide or matricide. Thus, with the internalization of
-the fear impulse, the demoniacal forms which the latter creates are
-brought forth from the subterranean darkness and are made to mingle
-with the living. Similarly, the joyous and hope-inspiring ideas of a
-beyond are projected still farther upward, and are elevated beyond
-the regions of this earth into heavenly spaces that seem even more
-inaccessible than the underworld. Prior to the age, however, which
-regards the heaven as the abode of the blessed, many peoples--possibly
-all who advanced to this notion of two worlds--entertained a different
-conception. This conception represents, perhaps, the surviving
-influence of the earlier ideas of spirit-islands. For the underworld
-was itself regarded as including, besides places of horror, brighter
-regions, into which, either through the direct favour of the gods or in
-accordance with a judgment pronounced upon the dead, the souls of the
-pure and righteous are received. As a result of the division which thus
-occurred, and of the antithesis in which these images of the beyond
-came to stand, pain and torment were added to the impressions of horror
-and hopelessness which the original conceptions of the underworld
-aroused. The contrasts that developed, however, did not prevent the
-underworld from being regarded as including both the region of pain
-and that of bliss. This seems to have been the prevalent notion among
-Semitic as well as Indo-Germanic peoples. The Walhalla of the Germans
-was also originally thought to be located in the underworld, and it is
-possible that it was not transferred to the heavens until the advent of
-Christianity. For, indeed, we are not familiar with Germanic mythology
-except as it took form within the period in which Christianity had
-already become widespread among the German tribes.
-
-An important change in the ideas of the beyond now took place. The
-separation of the abodes of spirits gradually led to a distinction
-between the deities who were regarded as the rulers of the two regions.
-Originally, so long as only the fear of death found expression in the
-unvarying gloom of the underworld, these deities were but vaguely
-defined. The conceptions formed of them seem to have reflected the
-ideas of rulership derived from real life, just as was true in the
-case of the supermundane gods. Indeed, the origin of the more definite
-conception that the underworld is a separate region ruled by its
-own gods, must probably be traced to the influence of the ideas of
-celestial gods. But there is a still more primitive feature of myths
-of the beyond, one that goes back to their very beginnings, and that
-long survives in saga and märchen. This is the preference shown by
-myths of the nether world for _female_ beings, whether as subordinate
-personifications of fear or as deities. Not only is the ideal of beauty
-and grace thought of as a female deity, an Aphrodite perhaps, but
-the psychological law of the intensification of contrasts causes also
-the fearful and terrifying sorts of deities to assume the feminine
-form. Such a gruesome and terrible goddess is exemplified by the Norse
-Hel, or, widely remote from her in time and space, by the Babylonian
-Ereksigal. In the Greek underworld also, it is Persephone who rules,
-and not Pluto, her consort. The latter seems to have been introduced
-merely in order that the underworld might have a counterpart to
-the celestial pair of rulers, Zeus and Hera. If the fear-inspiring
-attributes are not so pronounced in the Greek Persephone, this is due
-to the fact that in this case agricultural myths have combined with the
-underworld myths. To this combination we must later recur, inasmuch
-as it is of great significance for cult. The dominant place given
-to the female deity in the underworld myth, again brings the nether
-world into a noteworthy contrast with the supermundane realm of gods.
-In the latter, male gods, as the direct embodiments of a superhuman
-hero-ideal, are always predominant.
-
-It is not alone the inner forces of fear and horror that cause the
-realm of the dead to be thought of as located in the interior of the
-earth. There is operative also an external influence imparted by
-Nature herself, namely, the perception of the setting sun. Wherever
-particular attention is called to some one entrance to the underworld,
-or where a distant region of the earth is regarded as the abode of the
-dead, this is located in the west, in the direction of the setting
-sun. We have here a striking example of that form of mythological
-association and assimilation in which the phenomena of external nature,
-and particularly those of the heavens, exert an influence upon myth
-development. It would, of course, be incorrect to assert that the
-setting sun alone suggested the idea of an underworld. We must rather
-say that this phenomenon was obviously a subordinate and secondary
-factor. Its influence was not clearly and consciously apprehended even
-as affecting the location of the underworld, though this location was
-determined solely by it. Because of its connection with approaching
-night, the setting sun came to be associated with all those feelings
-that caused the underworld to be regarded as a realm of shadows and of
-terrifying darkness. It was the combination of all these factors, and
-not any single one of them--least of all, a relatively secondary one,
-such as the sunset--that created and so long maintained the potency of
-this most permanent of all the ideas of a beyond.
-
-Mention should also be made of the influence exerted, even at an early
-time, by soul-ideas. At the beginning of the heroic age, it was almost
-universally believed that after death _all_ human beings lead a dull,
-monotonous life under the earth, or, as Homer portrayed it, heightening
-the uniformity, that all lapse into an unconscious existence. Obviously
-these ideas were determined, in part, by the phenomena of sleep and
-dreams. Just as death seemed a protracted sleep, so did the dream
-come to foreshadow the life after death. The characteristics of
-dream images, therefore, came to be attributed to the souls of the
-underworld. The latter, it was thought, are visible, but, like shadows,
-they elude the hand that grasps them and move about fleetly from place
-to place. This shadow-existence is a fate that is common to all. It
-is only exceptionally flagrant transgressions against the gods that
-call forth punishments which not merely overtake the guilty in this
-world but may also continue in the next. Such figures, therefore, as
-are described in connection with Odysseus' journey to Hades--Sisyphus,
-who must unceasingly roll uphill a stone that is constantly rolling
-back, and Tantalus, who languishes with hopeless desire for the fruits
-suspended above his head--are not as yet to be regarded as expressing
-ideas of retribution, even though they may be anticipatory of them.
-Perhaps, also, it is not without significance that these accounts
-are probably later accretions, of which the Homeric poems contain a
-considerable number, particularly the Odyssey, which is so rich in
-märchen elements.
-
-Gradually, however, that which at first occurs only in occasional
-instances becomes more universal; the distinction in destinies comes to
-be regarded as applying generally. The earlier and exceptional cases of
-entrance into a world of the blessed or of particular punishments in
-Hades were connected with the favour or anger of the gods. Similarly,
-that which finally makes the distinction a universal one is religious
-cult. The object of cult is to propitiate the gods; their favour is to
-be won through petitions and magical acts. The gods are to grant not
-merely a happy lot in this world but also the assurance of permanent
-happiness in the next. Before this striving the shadows of the
-underworld give way. Though the underworld continues, on the whole, to
-remain a place of sorrow, it nevertheless comes to include a number of
-brighter regions in which the righteous may enjoy such happiness as
-they experienced in this world, without suffering its distresses and
-evil. It was this that early led to the formation of cult associations.
-Even during the transition of totemic tribal organization into States
-and deity cults, such religious associations sprang up out of the
-older totemic groups. During this period, the conditions of descent
-and of tribal segregation still imposed limitations upon the religious
-associations. These limitations, however, were transcended on the stage
-of deity cults, as appears primarily in the case of the Greek mysteries
-and of other secret cults of the Græco-Roman period, such as the
-mysteries of Mithra, Attis, Osiris, and Serapis. No doubt, the extreme
-forms of the cults prevalent in an age thoroughly conscious of a deep
-need for salvation were bound up with the specific cultural conditions
-of that age. And yet these cults but bring out in particularly sharp
-relief certain traits which, though they are not clearly apparent until
-later, are quite universally characteristic of the deity-worship of
-the heroic era. These cults arise only when the early heroic ideal,
-embodying certain external characteristics, has disappeared, having
-given way more and more to inner ideals, connected with religion
-and morality. This, however, occurs at the very time when minds are
-beginning to be more deeply troubled by the terrors of the underworld,
-and when, in contrast with this, the imagination creates glowing
-pictures of the future, for whose realization it turns to the gods.
-Thus arises the idea of a special region of the underworld, allotted
-to those cult-associates who have been particularly meritorious in
-the performance of religious duties. These will enter into Elysium, a
-vale of joy and splendour which, though a part of the underworld, is
-nevertheless remote from the regions of sorrow. Here the blessed will
-abide after death. This Elysium is no longer a distant island intended
-as a refuge for occasional individuals, but belongs to the established
-order of the underworld itself. In the sixth book of the Æneid,
-Virgil has sketched, with poetic embellishments, a graphic picture of
-this abode of the blessed as it was conceived, in his day, under the
-confluence of ancient mythical traditions and new religious impulses--a
-portrayal which forms perhaps the most valuable part of the whole poem.
-For, in it, the poet presents a living picture of what was believed and
-was striven for by many of his contemporaries.
-
-In closest connection with this separation of realms in the underworld,
-is the introduction of judgeship. It devolves upon the judge of the
-underworld to determine whether the soul is to be admitted to the vale
-of joy or is to be banished into Orcus. It is significant that, in
-his picture of the underworld, Virgil entrusts this judgeship to the
-same Rhadamanthus with whom we are familiar from the Odyssey as the
-ruler of the distant island of the blessed. Obviously the poet himself
-recognized that these later conceptions developed from the earlier idea
-that salvation comes as a result of divine favour. After the separation
-of the region of the blessed from that of the outcasts, a further
-division is made; the two regions of the underworld are partitioned
-into subregions according to degrees of terror and torment, on the one
-hand, and of joy and blessedness, on the other. Gradations of terror
-are first instituted, those of blessedness following only later and in
-an incomplete form. The subjective factor, which precludes differences
-in degree when joy is at the maximum, is in constant rivalry with the
-objective consideration that the merits of the righteous may differ,
-and, therefore, also their worthiness to enjoy the presence of the
-deity. In contrast with this, is the much stronger influence exerted
-by the factor of punishment. The shadowy existence of souls in Homer's
-Hades is not regarded as a penalty, but merely as the inevitable
-result of departure from the circle of the living. Only when the hope
-of Elysium has become just as universal as the fear of Hades, does
-the latter become a place of punishment, and the former a region of
-rewards. Just as language itself is very much richer in words denoting
-forms of suffering than in those for joy, so also does the mythological
-imagination exhibit much greater fertility in the portrayal of the
-pains of the underworld than in the glorification of the Elysian
-fields. All the horrors that human cruelty can invent are carried
-over from the judicial administration of this world into that of the
-beyond. Gradations in the magnitude of punishments are reflected in the
-location of the regions appointed for them. The deepest region of the
-underworld is the most terrible. Above this, is the place where those
-sojourn who may enter Elysium at some future time, after successfully
-completing a period of probation.
-
-The contrast which first appears in the form of a separation of the
-realms of torment and blessedness, of punishment and reward, is then
-carried to a further stage, again by the aid of ideas of a spacial
-gradation. No longer are all mortals compelled to enter the underworld;
-this not only loses its terrors for the blessed, but the righteous and
-beloved of the gods are not required to descend into it at all. Their
-souls ascend to heaven--a lot reserved in olden times exclusively for
-heroes who were exalted into gods. With this, the separation becomes
-complete: the souls of the righteous rise to the bright realms of
-heaven, those of the godless are cast into the depths. Among both the
-Semitic and the Indo-Germanic peoples, the antithesis of heaven and
-hell was established at a relatively late period. Its first clear
-development is probably to be found among the ancient Iranians, in
-connection with the early cosmogonic myths. Here the battle which the
-creation-myths of other cultural peoples represent as being fought
-between gods and demons is portrayed as the struggle of _two_ divine
-beings. One of these is thought to rule over the regions of light above
-the earth and the other over the subterranean darkness. True, this
-contrast is also brought out in the battles described by other peoples
-as between gods and demons, and this surely has been a factor leading
-to the incorporation of the Iranian myth into the ideas of the beyond
-elsewhere entertained. The distinctive feature of Iranian cosmogony
-and that which gave its dualism an unusual influence upon religion
-and cult is the fact that the original cosmic war was restricted
-to a single hostile pair of gods, Ormuzd (Ahuramazda) and Ahriman
-(Angramainju). Here also, however, Ahriman is the leader of a host of
-demons--a clear indication that the myth is based on the universal
-conception of a battle with demons. This similarity was doubtless
-all the more favourable to the influence of the Iranian dualism upon
-other religions, inasmuch as the separation of ideas of the beyond
-had obviously already quite generally taken place independently of
-such influence, having resulted from universal motives of cult. The
-fact, however, that the battle was not waged, as in other mythologies,
-between gods and demons, but between two divine personalities, led to
-a further essential change. The battle no longer takes place on the
-earth, as did that of Zeus and the Titans, but between a god of light,
-enthroned on high, and a dark god of the underworld. This spacial
-antithesis was probably connected by the ancient Iranians with that of
-the two ideas of the soul, the corporeal soul, fettered to earth, and
-the spiritual soul, the psyche, soaring on high. Herein may possibly
-lie the explanation of a curious custom which markedly distinguished
-the Iranians from other Indo-Germanic peoples. The former neither
-buried nor burned their dead, but exposed them on high scaffolds, as
-food for the birds. It almost seems as though the 'platform-disposal,'
-commonly practised in totemic times and mentioned above (p. 216),
-had here been taken over into later culture; the only change would
-appear to be that, in place of the low mound of earth upon which the
-corpse was left to decompose, there is substituted a high scaffolding,
-doubtless designed to facilitate the ascent of the soul to heaven.
-Furthermore, many passages in the older Avesta point out that the
-exposure of the corpse destroys the corporeal soul, rendering the
-spiritual soul all the freer to ascend to heaven. This is the same
-antithesis between corporeal soul and psyche that long continues to
-assert itself in later conceptions. Indeed, it also occurs, interwoven
-with specifically Christian conceptions, in many passages of the
-Epistles of the Apostle Paul, where the corporeal soul survives in the
-idea of the sinfulness of the flesh, and where, in the mortification of
-the flesh, we still have a faint echo of the Iranian customs connected
-with the dead.
-
-Thus, the ideas of a twofold beyond and of a twofold soul mutually
-reinforce each other. Henceforth the heavenly realm is the abode of
-the pure and blessed spirits; the underworld, that of the wicked,
-who retain their sensuous natures even in the beyond, and who must,
-therefore, suffer physical pain and torment in a heightened degree. The
-thought of a spacial gradation corresponding with degrees of merit,
-though first developed in connection with the pains and punishments
-of the underworld, then comes to be applied also to the heavenly
-world. In this case, however, the power of the imagination seems
-scarcely adequate to the task of sufficiently magnifying the degrees of
-blessedness. Hence the imagination is forced; it becomes subservient
-to reflection, which engenders an accumulation of apocalyptic imagery
-that completely defies envisagement. In Jewish literature, one of the
-earliest examples of such apocalyptic accounts of the beyond is to be
-found in the Book of Enoch. The idea of a journey to the underworld,
-developed in ancient history, here apparently suggested a journey to
-heaven; as a result, the celestial realm was divided into various
-regions, graded according to height, as were those of the underworld
-according to depth, and leading to places of greater blessedness, as
-did those of the latter to increasing torment. We here have one of
-those dream-journeys to which dream association readily gives rise in
-the expectant and excited consciousness of the sleeper. Indeed, it is
-not improbable that the narrative is based on actual dream images. Had
-not the appearance of the dead in dreams already led to the belief in a
-shadow-soul, which now journeys to this distant world? The division of
-the celestial realms, in these mythical works, fluctuates between the
-numbers three and seven--the two numbers held sacred _par excellence_.
-In the Second Epistle to the Corinthians, the Apostle Paul tells of a
-dream-vision in which, years before, he was caught up to the 'third
-heaven' of paradise.
-
-Under the influence of expiatory rites, which were zealously
-practised even by the ancient mystery cults, these two worlds, the
-subterranean hell and the celestial paradise, were supplemented by
-a _third_ region. This development was also apparently of Iranian
-origin. The region was held to be a place of purification, where the
-soul of the sinner might be prepared, through transitory punishments
-and primarily through lustrations, for entrance into the heavenly
-realm. Purgatorial lustration, after the pattern of terrestrial cult
-ceremonies, was believed to be effected by means of fire, this being
-regarded as the most potent lustrical agency, and as combining the
-function of punishment with that of purification. Dante's "Divine
-Comedy" presents a faithful portrayal of these conceptions as they were
-finally developed by the religious imagination of mediæval Christianity
-out of a mass of ideas which go back, in their beginnings, to a very
-ancient past, but which continually grew through immanent psychological
-necessity. Dante's account of the world beyond incorporates a further
-element. It tells of a _guide_, by whom those exceptional individuals
-who are privileged to visit these realms are led, and by whom the
-various souls are assigned to their future dwelling-places. The first
-of the visitors to Hades, Hercules, was accompanied by deities, by
-Athena and Hermes. Later it was one of the departed who served as
-guide. Thus, Virgil was conducted by his father, and Dante, in turn,
-was led by Virgil, though into the realms of blessedness, closed
-to the heathen poet, he was guided by the transfigured spirit of
-Beatrice. The rôle of general conductor of souls to the realms of
-the underworld, however, came to be given to Hermes, the psychopomp.
-Such is the capacity in which this deity appears in the Odyssey,
-in an exceedingly charming combination of later with very ancient
-soul-conceptions. After Odysseus has slain the suitors, Hermes, with
-staff in hand, leads the way to the underworld, followed by the souls
-of the suitors in the form of twittering birds.
-
-These external changes in the ideas of the beyond, leading to the
-separation of the two realms, heaven and hell, and finally to the
-conception of purgatory, an intermediate realm, are dependent also
-on the gradual development of the _idea of retribution_. This is not
-a primitive idea. It arises only in the course of the heroic age, as
-supplementary to the very ancient experiences associated with the fear
-of death and to the notions concerning the breath and shadow souls.
-Moreover, it is especially important to notice that at the outset
-the idea was not ethical in character, but _purely religious_--a
-striking proof that morality and religion were originally distinct.
-The transference of the idea from religion to morals represents the
-final stage of the development, and occurred long after other-world
-mythology had reached its zenith. The first traces of the retributive
-idea are to be found in connection with those unusual dispensations of
-favour by which a hero who has won the favour of the gods is either
-taken up into their midst or is granted admittance to some other region
-of blessedness; the conception may, however, also take the form of
-punishments attached to certain particular offences directed against
-the gods. These latter exceptions already form a prelude to the more
-general application of the retributive idea in later times. But, even
-at this stage, the idea did not at once include _all_ men within its
-scope, but found expression only in the desire to gain some exceptional
-escape from future suffering or some peculiar claim to eternal joy
-in the future. True, the natural impulse toward association, and the
-hope that united conjurations would force their way to the ears of
-the gods more surely than individual prayers could do, early led to
-cult alliances, whose object it was to minister to these other-worldly
-hopes. None of these alliances, however, was concerned with obtaining
-salvation for all; on the contrary, all of them sought to limit this
-salvation to a few, in the belief that by such limitation their aim
-would be more certain of realization. These cults, therefore, were
-shrouded in secrecy. This had a twofold purpose. On the one hand, it
-increased the assurance of the members in the success of their magical
-incantations--a natural result of the fact that these rites were
-unavailable to the masses; on the other hand, it augmented the magical
-power of the incantations, inasmuch as, according to an associative
-reaction widely prevalent in the field of magical ideas, the mysterious
-potency of magic led to a belief in the magical effect of secrecy.
-The influence of these ideas had manifested itself in much earlier
-times, giving rise, on the transitional stage between totemism and the
-deity cults, to the very numerous secret societies of cultural and
-semi-cultural peoples. At this period, these societies were probably
-always the outgrowth of the associations of medicine-men, but later
-they sometimes included larger circles of tribal members. As is
-evident particularly in the case of the North American Indians, such
-societies frequently constituted restricted religious groups within
-the clans--groups which appear to have taken the place of the earlier
-totemic associations. In harmony with this, and, perhaps, under the
-influence of the age-groups in the men's clubs, there was originally a
-gradation of the members, based on the degree of their sanctification
-and on the extent of their participation in the mystic ceremonies. In
-peculiar contradiction to the secrecy of such associations, membership
-in one of its classes was betrayed, during the festivals of the cult
-groups, by the most striking external signs possible, such as by the
-painting of the body or by other forms of decoration. Moreover, on the
-earlier stages of culture, the interest of all these secret societies
-was still centred mainly on things connected with this world, such as
-prosperity of crops, protection from sickness, and success in the
-chase. Nevertheless, there was also manifest a concern regarding a
-future life, especially wherever a pronounced ancestor worship or an
-incipient deity cult had been developed.
-
-It is the idea of the beyond, however, that gradually crowds out all
-secondary motives and that gives to the mystery cults proper their
-characteristic stamp, bringing them into sharp contrast with the
-dominant ideas of the early heroic age. In the earlier period, the
-idea of the beyond had been enveloped in hopeless gloom; now, it fills
-the mystic with premonitions of eternal happiness. In striving for
-this experience, the mystic wishes for a bliss that is not granted to
-the majority of mortals. Once more all the magic arts of the past are
-called into play in order that the initiate may secure entrance into
-the portals of the yonder world; it is thither that he is transported
-in the ecstasy induced by these magical means. No longer is admiration
-bestowed upon the heroes of the mythical past, upon a Hercules and a
-Theseus, as it was in ancient times. The change came about slowly,
-and yet at the great turning-point of human history, marked by the
-Hellenistic age, it spread throughout the entire cultural world.
-Radiating far beyond the Eleusinian and Orphic mysteries, which
-these hopes of a yonder-world raised to new life, the same idea was
-appropriated by the cults of Osiris, Serapis, Attis, and Mithra. The
-_idea of redemption_, born of the longing to exchange this world, with
-its sufferings and wants, for a world of happiness in the beyond, took
-possession of the age. It is the negation of the heroic age, of the
-heroes which it prized, and of the gods which it revered. Along with
-this world, these cults of the beyond repudiate also the previously
-existent values of this world. The ideals of power and of property
-fade. Succeeding the hero ideal, as its abrogation and at the same time
-its consummation, is the ideal of humanity.
-
-At first it is only _religious_ ideals that manifest this shift in
-values. The enjoyment of the present gives way to hopes for the
-future, the portrayal of which welds religious feelings into a
-power that proves supreme over all other impulses. It is for this
-very reason that the future, which the mystic already enjoys in
-anticipation, comes to be exclusively the reward of the _devout_. It
-is not vouchsafed to the moral man who stands outside the pale of
-these religious associations, for his activity centres about this
-world. At a much earlier period, however, these ideas became combined
-with ethical motives of retribution. If, accordingly, the two motives
-again become entirely distinct at this decisive turning-point of
-religious development, this only signifies that, in themselves, they
-are of different origin, and not that from early times forward there
-were no forces making for their union. These forces, however, were
-not so much internal as external in character. They did not spring
-from the religious experiences themselves, nor, least of all, from
-the ideas of the beyond. Their source is to be found primarily in
-a transference of the relations of the earthly State to the divine
-State, as a result of which the ruler of the latter was exalted to
-the position of lawgiver in the kingdom of men no less than in that
-of the gods. Proofs of this transference are to be found in the most
-ancient customs and legal enactments of all regions. Either the ethical
-and religious commandments are, both alike, supposed to be the very
-utterances of the deity, as in the case of the Mosaic decalogue, or, as
-is illustrated by the Babylonian code of Hammurabi, an earthly ruler
-expressly promulgates his law in the name of the deity, even though
-this law is essentially restricted to legal and ethical norms. Thus it
-came about that every ethical transgression acquired also a religious
-significance. The ethical norm was not, at the outset, religious
-in sanction, as is usually believed; it acquired this character
-only through the medium of the world-ruling divine personality.
-Nevertheless, the union of the ethical and the religious gradually
-caused the idea of retribution, which originally had no ethical
-significance whatsoever, to force its way into the conceptions of the
-beyond. It was essentially in this way that ethical transgressions came
-to be also religious offences, whereas, on the other hand, the rewards
-of the other-world continued to be restricted to the devout, or were
-granted to the moral man only on condition that he be devout as well as
-moral.
-
-In conclusion, we must consider an offshoot of other-world ideas--the
-belief in the _transmigration of souls_. This belief is ultimately
-grounded in the more general ideas of soul-belief, even though its
-developed form appears only as a product of philosophical speculation,
-and has, therefore, found only a limited acceptance. In its motives,
-the belief most closely resembles the conception of purgatory, in so
-far as the latter involves the notion that the occupation of animal
-bodies is a means, partly of transitory punishment, and partly of
-purification. The idea of lustration, however, is not involved in that
-of metempsychosis. In its place, there is a new and unique element.
-It consists in the thought, expressed in Plato's "Republic," that it
-is proper that man should retain after death the character manifested
-during life, and that he should therefore assume the form of the animal
-which exhibits this character. There is thus manifested the idea of
-a relationship between man and the animal. In the distant past this
-idea gave rise to the animal totem; in this last form of the animal
-myth, it leads to the conception of the transmigration of souls. Thus,
-a complete inversion of values has here taken place. The significance
-of the totem as an ancestral animal and as an object of cult caused
-it to be regarded as superior to man. The animal myth, on the other
-hand, represents transformation into an animal as degrading, even as
-a severe punishment. It is precisely this difference which makes it
-probable that the idea of transmigration was not a free creation of
-Hindoo philosophers--for it was they who apparently first developed it,
-and from whom it passed over to the Pythagorean school and thence to
-Plato--but that it, also, was connected with the general development of
-totemic conceptions. Of course, it is not possible to trace a direct
-transition of the totem animal into the animal which receives the soul
-of a human being who is expiating sins that he has committed. It is
-not probable, moreover, that such a transition occurred. Doubtless,
-however, the idea of transmigration is connected with the fact that,
-beginning with the totemic age and extending far down into the period
-of deity beliefs, the value placed on animals underwent a change. For
-the Australian, the animal is an object of cult, and the totem animal
-is frequently also regarded as the incarnation of an ancestor or of
-some magical being of antiquity; the American Indian calls the animals
-his elder brothers; Hercules, the hero of the heroic age, is honoured
-because, among other things, he was instrumental in exterminating wild
-animals. This change, moreover, is reflected in animal myths even more
-than in these general evaluations. Indeed, transformation into animals
-is a dominant characteristic of these myths. Tracing the conception of
-this magical process, however, we find, step by step, a progressive
-degradation of the animal. In Australian legends, animal and man are
-either absolute equals or the animal is the superior, being endowed
-with special magical powers. In American märchen-myths also, we still
-frequently find the same conception, although transformation into an
-animal is here sometimes regarded as a disgrace. Finally, in many
-African myths, and, particularly, in those of the cultural peoples
-of the ancient world, such a transformation is regarded either as a
-serious injury resulting from evil magic or as a punishment for some
-crime. We may well suppose, therefore, that the Brahmans, who first
-incorporated this idea into the religious conceptions of retribution,
-were influenced by the ideas current in popular belief, which, on their
-part, represented the last development of earlier totem conceptions.
-These ideas may also have been reinforced by the belief (not even yet
-entirely extinct) in soul animals, into which the psyche disappears
-at the moment of death. Whether the Brahmans had as yet come to the
-notion that transformation into an animal is a simpler and more natural
-way of conceiving the future of the soul than ideas of a supermundane
-and a subterranean beyond, need not concern us. In any event, it is
-noteworthy that, after science had closed the path to heaven as well as
-that to Hades, Lessing and, in a broader sense, taking into account
-nature as a whole, Goethe himself, regarded metempsychosis as the most
-probable hypothesis concerning the way in which the desire for an
-endless survival of the soul will be satisfied.
-
-
-
-15. THE ORIGIN OF DEITY CULTS.
-
-
-Psychologically, myth and cult are closely interrelated. The _myth_
-is a species of _idea_. It consists of ideas of an imaginary and an
-essentially supersensuous world that constitutes a background for the
-phenomena of sensuous reality. This supersensuous world is created
-by the imagination exclusively from sensuous materials. It finds
-portrayal throughout the various stages of myth development, first
-in the märchen-myth, then in the heroic saga, and finally in the
-deity saga. In the latter, there are interwoven ideas of the origin
-and destruction of things, and of the life of the soul after death.
-_Cult_, on the other hand, comprises only _actions_. These relate to
-the demons or the gods whose lives and deeds are depicted by mythology,
-at first only in fragmentary sketches, but later, especially in the
-deity saga, after the pattern of human life. Now, inasmuch as action
-is always the result of feeling and emotion, it is these subjective
-elements of consciousness that are dominant in cult, whereas cognition
-plays its rôle in connection with myth. This contrast is important
-because of its close bearing on the development of myth as well as
-on that of religion, and on the essential differentiæ of the two.
-Not every myth has a religious content. In fact, the majority of the
-myths prevalent, or once prevalent, in the world, have absolutely no
-connection with religion, if we give to the latter any sharply defined
-meaning at all. At the setting of the sun, a flaming hero is swallowed
-by a dusky demon--this conception of nature mythology may possibly be
-incorporated in religious conceptions, but, in itself, it possesses no
-religious significance whatsoever, any more than does the idea that the
-clouds are demons who send rain to the fields, or that a cord wound
-about a tree may magically transfer a sickness to it. These are all
-mythological ideas, yet to call them religious would obviously leave
-one with a most vague conception of religion. Similarly, moreover, not
-every cult relating to things beyond immediate reality is a religious
-cult. Winding a cord about a tree, for example, might constitute
-part of a magic cult which aims at certain beneficent or pernicious
-results through the aid of demons of some sort. There is no ground,
-however, for identifying these cult activities with deity cult. From
-the very beginning, of course, every cult is magical. But there are
-important differences with respect to the objects upon which the
-magic is exercised. The same is true with respect to the significance
-of the cult action within the circle of possible magic actions and
-of the derivatives which gradually displace the latter. In view of
-this, it is undeniable that, in _deity cult_, the cult activity,
-in part, assumes new forms, and, in part, and primarily, gains a
-new content. Prior to the belief in gods, there were numerous demon
-cults, as well, particularly, as single, fragmentary cult practices
-presupposing demoniacal powers. Moreover, these demon cults and the
-various activities to which they gave rise, passed down into the very
-heart of deity cult. The question therefore arises, What marks shall
-determine whether a deity cult is _religious_ in character? These
-marks, of course, may be ascertained only by reference to that which
-the general consensus of opinion unites in calling religious from
-the standpoint of the forms of religious belief prevalent to-day.
-From this point of view, a religious significance may be conceded to
-a deity conception if, in the first place, it possesses by its very
-nature--that is, objectively--an _ideal_ worth, and, since the ideal
-transcends reality, a _supersensuous_ character; in the second place,
-it must satisfy the subjective need of man for an ideal purpose of
-life. To one outside of the particular cult community, the value of
-this ideal may be but slight; to the community, however, at the time
-when it is engaged in the cult practices, the ideal is of highest
-worth. As the embodiments of the ideals just mentioned, the gods are
-always pictured by the mythological imagination in human form, since it
-is only his own characteristics that man can conceive as magnified into
-the highest values in so absolute a sense. Where the deity does not
-reach this stage, or where, at the very least, he does not possess this
-ideal value during the progress of the cult activities, the cult is not
-religious in nature, but prereligious or subreligious. Thus, while myth
-and cult date back to the beginnings of human development, they acquire
-a religious character only at a specific time, which comes earlier in
-the case of cult than in that of the myth. The gods are created by the
-religious emotion which finds expression in cult, and myth gives them
-the character of ideal personalities, after the pattern of the heroic
-figures of actual life. The entire life of man, with all its changes of
-destiny, is placed in their hands. Their cult, therefore, is no longer
-associated merely with special circumstances or various recurrent
-events, as were primitive magic and the conjuration of demons, but
-is concerned with the whole of life, which is now subordinated to a
-divine legal order fashioned after the political government. Thus, the
-god is soon succeeded by the _divine State_, and by the cult festivals
-dedicated to the latter. As an idealized counterpart of the human
-institution peculiarly characteristic of the heroic era, religious cult
-appears, from this point of view also, as the most distinctive creation
-of the age of heroes and gods.
-
-If a conception proves to be too narrow to cover all the phenomena
-which fall within its sphere, it is legitimate, of course, to broaden
-it, to a certain extent, to suit our needs. Nevertheless, once we
-admit that not every mythological conception or magical practice is
-religious in character, we can no longer doubt that there was never
-a more significant change in the development of these phenomena than
-occurred in the case of the myths and cults directly connected with the
-heroic age. Primarily, therefore, it was the cults of the Babylonians,
-Egyptians, Israelites, and also those of the Greeks, Romans, Aryans,
-and Germans, that were religious in the full sense of the word. In the
-Old World, the Semitic and Indo-Germanic peoples must be regarded,
-to say the least, as the most important representatives of religious
-ideals; in the New World, prior to the coming of the Europeans, this
-distinction belongs to the cultural peoples of the Andes, the Mexicans
-and the Peruvians. Though the religion of these latter races, no less
-than the other phases of their culture, was of a cruder sort than that
-of the former peoples, it frequently throws a remarkable light upon
-the initial stages of many forms of cult. Of course, there is never
-a sharp separation of periods; intermediate stages are always to be
-found. The latter result, particularly, from two conditions. On the one
-hand, a deity cult may be inaugurated by the introduction of elements
-of a celestial mythology into the still dominant magical cults. In this
-case, it is important to note, deity myth is usually far in advance
-of deity cult. This is exemplified in Polynesia, where we find a rich
-theogony alongside of cults that have not advanced essentially beyond
-the stage of totemic magic beliefs. On the other hand, however, a
-people whose civilization is still, on the whole, totemic, may be
-influenced by the deity cults of neighbouring cultural peoples, and, as
-a result, fusions of various sorts may occur. Of this, also, the New
-World affords instructive examples, namely, the Pueblo peoples of New
-Mexico and Arizona, who were influenced by Mexican culture.
-
-In the soul-life of the individual, _action_, together with the
-feelings and emotions fundamental to it, have the primacy over
-ideation. The same psychological fact universally accounts for the
-superior importance of deity cult over deity myth. It is action that
-constantly influences ideas, changing and strengthening them, and
-thus arousing new emotions which stimulate to further activities.
-Thus, the elevation of the gods into ideal beings must be ascribed,
-in great part, to religious cult, for it came about as a result of
-the influence which the emotions associated with cult exercised upon
-the ideas of the gods. Even less than the mythological thought from
-which it develops does religious reflection consist simply of ideas.
-The mythical tales and legends into which ideas are woven excite
-primarily the feelings and emotions. These it is that cause the
-exaltation of the religious consciousness, giving rise to action,
-which, in turn, enhances the emotions. If anywhere, therefore, it is in
-the psychology of religion that intellectualism is doomed to failure.
-The intellectualist is unable to explain even the fact of cult, to say
-nothing of those effects upon religion by virtue of which cult becomes
-religion's creative force. While, therefore, there are cults--namely,
-those of magic and demons--which, for specific reasons, we may call
-prereligious, there is no religion without some form of cult, even
-though, in the course of religious development, the external phases of
-cult may diminish in significance. In so far, cult is to be regarded as
-_moulding_, rather than as permanently expressing religious emotions;
-and it is not merely an effect, but also a source of religious ideas.
-It is in cult that deity ideas first attain their full significance. By
-giving expression to his desires in prayer and sacrifice, man enjoys a
-foretaste of their satisfaction, and this, in reaction, enhances not
-only the desires but also the mythological conceptions fundamental to
-them. It is precisely this relationship of myth to cult that extends
-far back into the totemic age and that causes the dominant magic cults
-of this period to be displaced by deity cults as soon as gods have
-arisen through a synthesis of heroes and demons. This accounts for the
-fact that, in the beginnings of religion, the worship of gods always
-contained elements that derived from the age of demons. But even
-the demon cults frequently exhibit one feature, particularly, that
-remains characteristic also of religion: in the cult the individual
-feels himself one with the object of worship. This is clearly shown
-in the case of primitive vegetation festivals. Those who execute the
-orgiastic cult dances regard themselves as one with the spirits of
-vegetation, whom they wish to assist, by their actions, in increasing
-the productive forces of nature. Such vegetation festivals have already
-been described in our account of totemic cults. Inasmuch, however, as
-they represent not only the highest of the totemic cults but even
-partake, in part, of the character of deity cults, it was necessary to
-refer to them again at this point. Vegetation festivals still prevail
-in richly developed forms among some of the tribes of North and Central
-America. It is clear that they represent primarily a transitional
-stage, for, in addition to totemic ideas, demon and ancestor beliefs
-are everywhere mingled with elements of a celestial mythology. Spirits
-of ancestors are thought to be seated behind the clouds, urging the
-rain demons to activity. Above them, however, are celestial deities,
-whose abode is in the heavens, and to whom is attributed the supreme
-control over destiny.
-
-Even these relatively primitive vegetation cults manifest still
-another trait, which later comes more and more to characterize all
-cult, namely, the _union of many cult motives_. The great vegetation
-festivals of Central America attract not only those in health but also
-the sick. The latter are in search of healing. Hence there come to
-be special cults alongside of those that serve more universal needs.
-Moreover, the initiation of youths into manhood is also celebrated
-during these great festivals. Finally, the individual seeks to
-expiate some sin which he has committed in the past. Thus, numerous
-supplementary and subsidiary cults cluster about the great cult
-festivals. This was true even of the cults that reach far back into
-the age of magic and demon beliefs, when gods still played a secondary
-rôle, and conditions remained the same up to the time of the highest
-forms of deity cult. Furthermore, the incentive, or impelling motive,
-which originally brought cult members together for these comprehensive
-festivals seems everywhere to have been the same. The aim in view
-was to secure the prosperity of the crops, for, on the threshold of
-this higher civilization, these formed man's chief food-supply. The
-prominence of this motive in the earliest deity cults, moreover,
-indicates that the latter were genuine products of the general culture
-of this period. The roving hunter and nomad were giving place to the
-settled tiller of the soil, who utilized the animal for the services of
-man, and thus engaged more systematically in the breeding of domestic
-animals, though also perfecting, in addition to the arts of peace,
-the agencies of war. The motives that gradually elevated vegetation
-cults to a higher plane consisted in every case of those that at the
-outset found expression in the subsidiary cults. The concern for
-the _spiritual welfare_ of mankind finally supplanted materialistic
-purposes. This is clearly shown by the history of the Greek mystery
-cults. These, however, were obviously influenced, particularly at a
-later time, by the similar cults of the Egyptians, as well as by the
-Babylonians and other peoples of western Asia. Among all these peoples,
-the chief cults were vegetation cults, and, as such, they occurred
-at stated seasons. In the Orient, particularly, the festivals were
-held at the solstices. Surviving remnants of seedtime and harvest
-festivals--which were solstice festivals and were prevalent throughout
-the entire Oriental world--allow us to conclude, even with respect
-to many regions in which a complete historical tradition is lacking,
-that agricultural festivals probably represent the earliest deity
-cults. Hence it is that these remnants still contain so many elements
-characteristic of demon beliefs.
-
-It is the contrast of spring, of newly awakened Nature and its
-sprouting and growing crops, with winter and its dying vegetation,
-that first finds expression in the deity myths which inspire the
-vegetation festivals. The more permanent significance of these cults,
-however, is due to the fact that the gods of vegetation gain an
-increasing sphere of influence. The reason for this is obviously to
-be found in the fact that subsidiary motives come to be incorporated
-into the main cults of the earliest cultural peoples. _One_ factor
-is of particular importance. Though inconspicuous in the earliest of
-these cults, it becomes increasingly prominent as the cults become
-more highly developed. I refer to _hopes of a beyond_. Of course, many
-phases of the cult remain hidden to us. Due to the combinations already
-mentioned and to the incorporation, in this case, of magical and
-mystical elements, these cults acquired a secret nature in proportion
-as they concerned themselves with the riddle of the beyond. The more
-carefully the individual cult member guarded the secrets of the group,
-the richer the blessings that he might hope to receive. Nevertheless,
-the general psychological motives underlying this development enable
-us to supplement the historical tradition. In this way it is possible
-to gain a fairly positive knowledge of the process by which, with
-an apparently almost universal uniformity, vegetation cults came to
-combine with soul cults. The ideas of changing seasons, of summer
-and winter, of the budding and the withering of grain, are naturally
-associated with those of life and death. Winter and bleak nature
-resemble death; and, just as lifeless nature is again resuscitated
-in the spring, so also will the soul awaken to a bright and joyous
-existence in the future. The connection is so obvious that poetry and
-even myth itself everywhere refer to it. Hence also it could not have
-been overlooked by the mythologists. Generally, however, this has
-been regarded as an ingenious allegory by means of which man sought
-to gain a vivid realization of the resurrection of the soul. In fact,
-such allegorical reinterpretations occur in later cult legend itself.
-Particularly characteristic of this is the legend of the Eleusinian
-mysteries. Persephone, the daughter of Demeter, goddess of the crops,
-is stolen by Pluto, ruler of the underworld, and the goddess-mother
-wanders about on the earth seeking her child. Resentfully she withdraws
-from the heavens and avoids the assemblages of the gods. During this
-period of mourning, however, she devotes all of her care to mankind.
-She protects not only the vegetation but also the germinating human
-life, the child. Thus she becomes a benefactress upon earth. The gods,
-however, mourn her absence, and Zeus makes a compact with the lord of
-the underworld. Persephone is to remain in the underworld with her
-husband, Pluto, during only one-half of the year; during the other
-half she is to return to her mother. Appeased, Demeter herself returns
-to the heavens. The allegorical significance of this legend cannot
-fail to be recognized, nor the fact that it was probably only as a
-result of a poetical elaboration of the mythological material that
-this allegorical character was acquired. The same is true of all other
-similar cult legends, from the descent into hell of the Babylonian
-Ishtar down to the legends of Dionysos and Osiris, and other vegetation
-legends of the Hellenistic period. In the form in which these have come
-down to us, they are all products of priestly invention, replete with a
-conscious symbolism such as cannot be ascribed to the original mythical
-material upon which they were based. Nevertheless, it is customary not
-only to regard all of this original content as allegorical, but also to
-surpass even the traditional legend itself, if possible, in allegorical
-interpretation. In the legend of Demeter, for example, Demeter is
-supposed to be the mother earth, and Persephone the seed that is
-thrown into the earth to grow up and blossom. Analogously, he who
-participates in the cult hopes that, while his soul, similarly, is at
-first buried in the earth with his body, it will later ascend to heaven
-as did Demeter. Back of the myth, therefore, there is supposed to be a
-symbolical allegory, and to this is attributed the original union of
-the soul cult with the vegetation festival. When, then, the former lost
-its influence, the symbolism it thought to have remained as the chief
-content of the mystery. No original cult, however, shows the least sign
-of connection with such subtle allegories. On the other hand, there
-are many indications that the vegetation cults developed into these
-higher forms of soul cults in an entirely different way. Soul cults
-of a lower order had, of course, long been prevalent. But these were
-absolutely distinct from any vegetation myths that may have existed.
-They pictured souls as demons, against whom it was necessary to be on
-one's guard, or, at a later stage, as beings whom one might conciliate
-and win over as helpful spirits. Now, the cults of Demeter practised in
-Eleusis had as their aim, not only an increased productiveness of the
-soil, but also success in the interests and activities of this world.
-Since they related to happiness in general, it was but natural that, as
-soon as the ideas of a beyond reached a point of development at which
-the yonder-world became the focus of desires and hopes, the cults also
-should necessarily concern themselves with happiness in a life after
-death. Thus, interest in the beyond came to be one of the further cult
-motives that linked themselves to the dominant vegetation cults. The
-latter, however, held the primacy, as is still clearly apparent by
-reference to the vegetation festivals of the semi-cultural peoples of
-America. It is only natural that this should have been the case. When
-agriculture was in its beginnings, the most pressing need of life was
-that of daily bread. For the tiller of the soil, moreover, the changes
-of seasons marked by seedtime and harvest, represent sharply defined
-periods, suitable above all others for the festivals to which tribal
-associates assemble from near and far. The later allegories connected
-with these cults had nothing to do with their transition into soul
-cults, but, as their whole character indicates, were creations of the
-priestly imagination. As a result of the reaction of cult activities
-upon the emotions, however, concern for the future happiness of the
-soul finally came more and more to overshadow the desires connected
-with this world. Thus, the cults of Demeter eventually passed over,
-in all essentials, into cults of the beyond. The same is true of the
-Dionysos cults of the Greeks, of the Egyptian worship of Isis and
-Osiris, of the Persian Mithra cult, and of many other mystery cults
-of Oriental origin. All of these express the same passion for a
-future bliss that shall begin at the close of earthly life and endure
-endlessly.
-
-The character of these cults is shaped, in a decisive measure, by other
-influences, whose source is to be found in the hopes of a beyond. Even
-in the vegetation festivals of the semi-cultural peoples of America,
-with their elements of totemism and ancestor worship, an important
-place is occupied by _ecstatic_ features--by the orgiastic dance, and
-by the ecstasy that results from sexual excitement and from narcotic
-poisons, such as tobacco. Conjurations, prayer, sacrifice, and other
-cult ceremonies aid in stirring the emotions. Doubtless it was due to
-these ecstatic elements that the cult of Dionysos gained supremacy over
-the older cults of Demeter in the Greek mysteries, and that Dionysos
-himself was eventually given a place in the Demeter cult. For is he
-not the god of wine, the most potent of all the means for creating
-a condition of bliss that elevates above all earthly cares? In the
-mystery cults, however, the central feature of the cult activity was
-the vision experienced in the ecstasy. The mysterious equipment of the
-place, the preliminary ascetic practices, the liturgic conjurations
-and sacrifices, the wine, which originally took the place of the
-blood sacrifice, and, among the Hindoos, the soma, which was itself
-deified--all of these served to transport consciousness to another
-world, so that the cult became increasingly concerned with the world
-beyond, and finally devoted itself exclusively to this interest. As a
-result of this change, the hopes centring about the beyond forced their
-way overpoweringly into cult, whereas the cult, in turn, reacted in an
-important measure to enhance these hopes.
-
-Over against the tendency toward unification inherent in vegetation
-cults and in the other-world cults which sprang from them, the
-increasing diversity of needs and interests now introduces influences
-toward a progressive differentiation of cults. Separate deity cults
-come to be fostered by the various social groups and classes, just as
-had occurred in the case of the totem cults of the preceding age, which
-differed according as they were practised by the tribe, the sex, or the
-individual. The desire for protection against dangers and for security
-in undertakings gives rise to guardian gods no less than it did to
-guardian demons. Since, however, this more general desire branches
-out into a considerable number of special desires, advancing culture
-results in a progressive differentiation of cults. The foundation
-of cities and the separation into classes and occupations lead to
-special cults for each of these divisions of society. The personal
-characteristics of the gods and the purposes of the cult come to be
-affected, each by the other. Each specific cult chooses from among the
-members of the pantheon that god who best suits its purpose, and it
-then modifies his character according to its needs. The characteristics
-of the gods thus undergo a change of significance analogous to that of
-the forms of speech and custom. This change, however, is due mainly to
-cult, and to the fact that the human beings who practise the cult have
-need of protection and aid. The influence of saga and poetry is only
-secondary, being, at best, mediated through cult.
-
-In addition to the increasing diversity of human interests, and
-interplaying with it in various ways, are two further factors that
-tend toward the differentiation of cult. In the first place, divine
-personality as such awakens man to the necessity of establishing
-a cult. As a personal being who transcends human stature, the god
-calls for adoration by his very nature, even apart from the special
-motives which are involved in the specific deity cults and which, in
-the further course of development, give to the latter their dominant
-tone. Pure deity cults, thus, are the highest forms of cult, and give
-best expression to ideal needs. Outstanding examples of this are the
-Jahve cult of the Israelites, and the cults of Christ and Buddha. The
-latter, in particular, show the great assimilative power of cults
-that centre about an objective ideal, in contrast with those that are
-subjective in nature, springing entirely from human desires and hopes,
-and especially with that most subjective of all cults, the cult of the
-beyond. Moreover, this idealizing impulse may also create new cults,
-by deifying heroes who were originally conceived as human. Besides the
-ancient hero cults, the most prominent examples of such cults are again
-those of Christ and of Buddha. For there can be no doubt that Christ
-and Buddha alike existed as human beings and that originally they were
-also regarded as such. The fact that their heroic character consists
-entirely in the spiritual qualities of their personalities does not
-preclude them from consideration in this connection. These qualities
-proved all the more effective in bringing about the exaltation of
-the human into the divine. Thus, they enable us to understand how it
-was possible for the cult of the original deities to be crowded into
-the background by that of those who later came to be gods. This is
-emphatically brought out in the Buddha legends, many of which represent
-the ancient Hindoo gods of the Veda as the servants of the divine
-Buddha.
-
-In addition to the fact that divine personalities call forth homage
-by their very nature, the multiplication of cults results also from
-the fusion of the gods of various peoples. This is the most external
-factor, and yet it is by no means the least potent one. It not
-infrequently happens that cults gain their supreme importance only in
-the territory into which they have been transplanted. Dionysos, for
-example, was a god introduced from elsewhere into Greece. Through his
-connection with the mystery cults, however, he later came to surpass
-all other Greek gods in religious significance. The original cults
-of the native Italian deities, with their numerous elements carried
-over from the age of demoniacal and ancestral spirits, were but few
-in number. Through the assimilation of Greek deities, however, and
-later, at the time of the empire, of Oriental gods, differing widely
-in character, Rome acquired a multiplicity of cults to which history
-doubtless affords no parallel. Yet we must not overlook the fact that
-in certain other cases--such, for example, as the Babylonian-Assyrian
-and the Egyptian cults--the fusions may perhaps have become more
-complete at an early period, and thus have precluded the juxtaposition
-of the many separate cults that existed in the Rome of the Empire.
-
-
-
-16. THE FORMS OF CULT PRACTICES.
-
-
-This multiplicity of cults, increasing with the advance of civilization
-both as regards the ends that are desired and the gods who are
-worshipped, is by no means paralleled by the number of _cult agencies_.
-The only possible exception might be in the case of the means which
-the cults of the beyond employed for arousing ecstasy. Even here the
-difference lies not so much in the means themselves as in the extent
-to which they were used. Moreover, the secrecy surrounding these cults
-is itself an external indication of the fact that they differed from
-the cults concerned with the things of this world, for the latter
-generally sought publicity. And yet there was no form of cult in which
-ecstatic features were altogether lacking; such features are inherent,
-to a certain extent, in cult practices as such and, in so far, are
-absolutely universal. Differences in the specific purposes of the cults
-and in the deities to whom the acts were dedicated did indeed cause
-certain variations. These, however, we may here neglect, inasmuch
-as they do not affect the essential nature of cult itself. From
-early times on, there were certain activities that were universally
-characteristic of deity cults, and their fundamental purposes remained
-the same, namely, to gain the favour of the deity and thereby to
-obtain the fulfilment of personal wishes. As regards this motive, the
-_three_ cult agencies--_prayer, sacrifice_, and _sanctification_--are
-absolutely at one. In this order of sequence, moreover, these agencies
-represent a progressive intensification of the religious activity of
-cult.
-
-In the records of ancient civilized peoples we meet with a great number
-of _prayers_, representing all the forms developed by this simplest
-and most common of the means of cult. The most primitive form of
-prayer is _conjuration_. Conjuration passed over from demon cult into
-the beginnings of deity cult, and is intermediate between a means of
-magic and a petition. This also indicates the direction of the further
-development of the prayer. Conjuration is succeeded by the _prayer
-of petition_, whose essential differentia consists in the fact that,
-however earnestly the suppliant may strive for the fulfilment of his
-desires, he nevertheless ultimately commits them to the will of the
-deity. The development of the prayer of petition out of conjuration
-becomes possible only because gods possess a characteristic which
-demons lack--namely, personality. Once this personality attains to its
-ideal sublimity, the exercise of magical power over the deity ceases
-to be possible, or is so only under the presupposition that the will
-of the deity is in itself favourably inclined toward the suppliant.
-The idea underlying conjuration nevertheless continues for a time to
-remain a supplementary factor in the prayer of petition; even where
-no clearly conscious trace of it appears, it survives in the depth of
-emotion that reinforces the petition. That conjuration blends with
-petition is particularly evident in the case of _one_ characteristic,
-whose origin must be traced to magical conjuration. I refer to the
-fact that the _words of the petition_ are _repeated_ in the same or in
-a slightly changed form, and that, at a later stage of development,
-there is a constant recurrence of the same content, even though this
-is variously expressed. This is a derivative characteristic of the
-prayer of petition. Originally, it was thought that repetition brought
-about an intensification of the magical effect, particularly in the
-case of word-magic. We are already familiar with conjurations of
-this sort as elements of totemic cults. With but few changes, they
-recur in the older songs of the Avesta and Veda, as well as in some
-of the Biblical Psalms. In these cases, however, the repetitions are
-somewhat more extensive, for there is a more detailed statement of
-that which is desired. And yet the Biblical Psalms, particularly, are
-an illustration of the fact that, with submission to the will of the
-deity, the petition becomes less urgent in tone. Even when the petition
-is repeated the expression more and more assumes a somewhat altered
-form. It is probably this enhancement through repetition--itself, in
-turn, due to the dynamic character of the emotions of desire--that
-accounts for the so-called 'parallelism of members,' characteristic
-especially of Hebrew poetry. The view, once entertained, that this
-is a sort of substitute for the rhythm arising from emphasis and
-sentence arrangement is doubtless incorrect, for recent investigations
-demonstrate the ingenious rhythm of Hebrew poetry. We would not, of
-course, deny that the repetition of the thought in a changed form
-intensifies the rhythmic expression. The real basis of the repetition,
-however, lies not in this fact but in the motive underlying petition.
-This is clear, above all, from the fact that repetition is most
-pronounced particularly in those psalms and prophetic songs which are
-of the nature of a prayer of petition and of the praises closely
-connected with it. Later, repetition was also employed in other
-forms of religious expression. In the case of the hymn of praise,
-particularly, the tendency to repetition is augmented, by virtue of the
-enthusiastic exaltation of the divine personality whom the hymn extols.
-
-Besides the prayer of petition we find the _prayer of thanksgiving_.
-Petition and thanksgiving are properly correlative, the one expressing
-a wish to the deity and the other acknowledging its fulfilment. Not
-infrequently, therefore, they are combined, particularly in the more
-advanced forms of the prayer cult, into a single prayer of thanksgiving
-and petition. He who prays returns thanks for the blessings which
-he has received and adds a request for further divine aid. This
-combination occurs very frequently in the Psalms, but it is to be
-found also in other hymnodies. The extent to which the request for
-further favours is subordinated to the thanksgiving for past aid, is
-a measure of the humility involved, and represents a fair criterion
-of the maturity of the religious feeling underlying the prayer.
-Nevertheless, it may also be noticed that he who prays always aims
-first to gain the divine favour through his thanksgiving, in the hope
-that the gods may thereby be rendered more disposed to grant his
-request. Typical examples of this are to be found, not only in the
-Biblical Psalms, but also in the ancient Babylonian texts which recent
-discoveries have brought to light. That the prayer of thanksgiving is
-a higher form of prayer than is petition, is shown by the very fact
-that it occurs in deity cult alone. More clearly even than petition
-does thanksgiving presuppose a personal being, capable of appreciating
-the feeling of gratitude. It is at most in the fact that the prayer
-of thanksgiving still seeks to obligate the deity to future favours,
-that demon-conjuration has left its traces upon it. And yet deity cult
-is characterized precisely by the fact that the compulsion of magical
-conjuration has entirely disappeared in favour of the free volition
-of the deity. That prayer is regarded as imposing an obligation upon
-the god no less than upon man, is extremely well brought out in the
-conception that the relation of the two is that of a contract, or of
-a covenant sealed in the cult. This idea, reinforced by the national
-significance of the deity, is fundamental in the Jahve cult of the
-Israelites.
-
-_Praise_, or, as it is called in its poetic forms, the _hymn_, is
-an even more pronounced feature of deity cult than is the prayer of
-thanksgiving. The hymn is not usually classified as a form of prayer
-because, when externally regarded, it may entirely lack the motive of
-petition, and it is from the latter that the prayer has derived its
-name. In view, however, of the continuity of the development of the
-cult forms which find expression in speech, we cannot escape including
-also the song of praise. Indeed, it generally adduces the blessings
-conferred by the god as an evidence of his glory; not infrequently,
-moreover, it concludes with a hope for the future favour of the deity.
-Artistically perfect examples of such prayers are the compositions
-known as the Homeric Hymns, which, of course, belong to a much later
-age than the Homeric epics. They are pæans in praise of Demeter,
-Apollo, Dionysos, and Hermes, in which the laudation of the beneficent
-activity of these deities takes the form of a recital of some incident
-in their lives, followed by a prospective glance at the favour which
-they may be expected to bestow in the future.
-
-In these cases, the song of praise clearly represents a development of
-the prayer of thanksgiving. The final and most mature form of prayer,
-however, the _penitential prayer_, or, as it is usually called, the
-_penitential psalm_, may in a certain sense be called a subform of the
-petitional prayer. In it, either external need or the consciousness
-of personal guilt leads the individual to call upon the gods for
-mercy and for forgiveness of the committed sin. Typical examples are
-again available in the Hebraic and Babylonian psalms. These psalms
-contain, in the first instance, prayers of cult, which were offered
-on the occasion of national disasters and needs, such as crop failure
-or drought, or, as in the case particularly of the Israelites, were
-repeated at stated times in penitence for the sins of the community.
-Such being the motives, the most universal form of prayer, that of
-petition, may here also be discerned in the background. Not only is
-the penitential psalm in and for itself a particular form of petition,
-containing as it does a plea for the forgiveness of committed sins, but
-it is frequently combined with a direct prayer for the favour of the
-deity and for renewed manifestations of grace through a fortunate turn
-of destiny. In spite of this egoistic strain, however, which, just as
-in the case of the song of praise, is seldom absent, the penitential
-prayer is, religiously speaking, the highest form of prayer, and may be
-found only at an advanced stage of deity cult. Above all other forms
-of prayer, its emphasis falls on the inner life; where it comes to
-expression in its purity, it seeks not external goods, but only peace
-of conscience. Moreover, more than anywhere else, we find in it a
-resignation to the will of the deity. This resignation, in turn, draws
-its strength from the belief that human destiny is in the absolute
-control of the gods, everything experienced by the individual or by
-the cult community being interpreted as a divine punishment or reward.
-Thus, the penitential prayer is closely bound up, on the one hand,
-with the idea of a divine providence and, on the other, with ideas of
-retribution. Neither the idea of providence nor that of retribution is
-to be found in early deity cult; both are products of the subsequent
-religious development. Moreover, the issue is not changed by raising
-the question whether the retribution is regarded as occurring here or
-in the beyond. As a matter of fact, the retributive idea is far from
-being implicated with other-world hopes. The conviction that punishment
-will overtake the guilty man even in this world, because of the direct
-connection between present fortune and misfortune and the worship of
-the gods, is itself the immediate source of the idea of a divine power
-ever controlling the destinies of mankind.
-
-In addition to prayer, however, and usually bound up with it, there
-is a second important form of cult practice, namely, _sacrifice_. The
-usual conception of sacrifice is altogether too narrow--just as is
-the case with prayer. Hence the origin and significance of sacrifice
-have been misunderstood. In view of one of its prominent features in
-the more highly developed cults, sacrifice is usually regarded as a
-gift to the deity, and the various meanings that a gift may have are
-then simply held to apply to sacrifice itself. Accordingly, the purpose
-of sacrifice is limited either to disposing the god favourably toward
-the sacrificing individual or community, or to obtaining forgiveness
-for committed sins. In the Priests' Code of the Israelites, this
-second form of sacrifice--the trespass or sin-offering--also served
-the former purpose, thus acquiring the significance of an act of
-reconciliation which at the same time blotted out any transgressions
-of the past. The sin-offering, on the other hand, was concerned with
-purification from a single, definite sin for which the forgiveness of
-the deity had to be obtained. The peace-offering, therefore, was a
-cult that was celebrated in common and on a specific day, whereas the
-sin-offering was brought only on special occasions, when an individual
-or a restricted group felt the burdens of conscience because of a
-committed sin. Corresponding to the different purposes indicated by
-the words 'reconciliation' and 'forgiveness' was the manner in which
-the sacrifice was brought. The peace-offering was taken to definitely
-established centres of cult, primarily to the temple at Jerusalem.
-Those bringing the sacrifice shared its enjoyment with the deity in the
-sacrificial meal, which was an expression of the covenant concluded
-with the deity for the future. The sin-offering was made whenever
-occasion demanded, and the sacrifice was designed for the deity alone.
-After the removal of the portion reserved for the priesthood, the
-remainder was burned--those making the sacrifice could enjoy none
-of it. If we regard both kinds of sacrifice as forms of gift, the
-peace-offering would correspond more closely to an actual gift with
-a certain tinge of bribery, though this conception is rendered less
-crude by the fact that the sacrifice represents also a covenant which
-receives expression in the sacrificial meal. The sin-offering, on the
-other hand, is more of the nature of a penalty, similar to that which a
-judge imposes in satisfaction of a crime.
-
-It must be granted that there is a stage in the development of
-sacrificial cult in which the gift motive is dominant. Nevertheless,
-even here there are concomitant phenomena which clearly indicate
-that the sacrifice cannot originally have had the significance of a
-gift. On the contrary, there has been, in part, a change in meaning
-and, in part, an arbitrary reinterpretation of phenomena. The Jewish
-peace-offering was not a true gift. This is evidenced by the fact
-alone that one of its chief features was the sacrificial feast,
-which involved the idea of the deity's participation in the meal. In
-connection with this idea of communion with the deity, the offering of
-parts of the consumed sacrifice was manifestly only a secondary motive.
-Nor was the renunciation required of the sacrificer in connection with
-the Jewish sin-offering a feature which had anything in common with a
-gift. It was similar rather to punishment. Moreover, all resemblance
-whatsoever to a gift disappears when we call to mind the earliest forms
-of sacrifice, as well as the objects that were offered. One of the
-oldest sacrifices, found even within totemic culture, was that offered
-to the dead. In its broadest sense, this comprehends everything that
-was given over to the deceased, or that was burned with him, in case
-cremation was practised. Such objects originally included some of the
-belongings of the deceased, particularly his weapons and personal
-decorations. After despotic forms of government arose, the death of a
-chief or of a person of influence demanded also the sacrifice of his
-animals, slaves, and wives. We are already familiar with the change of
-motives that here occurred. At first, the aim was to keep the deceased
-from approaching the living; later, it was to equip him with whatever
-might be of service in his future life. The sacrifice then became an
-offering to the demon of the deceased, designed to win his aid for
-the living. Finally, it was devoted to the gods, whose favour was
-sought both for the deceased and for the survivors. A survey of the
-development as a whole shows that the gift motive was at first entirely
-lacking, and that even later it was of relatively little importance.
-The idea of magic was predominant. The aim was to bring the power of
-magic to bear upon the deceased and his demon, and finally upon the
-gods. The demon was to be kept at a distance, just as in the case of
-burial and of the binding of the corpse, and the gods were to be won
-over to a friendly attitude. This appears even more clearly when we
-consider the objects that were sacrificed. In this respect, there was
-an important change, first mediated, probably, by the cult of the dead,
-and thence carried over to sacrifice in general. The sacrificer offered
-such parts of his own body as were held to be the specific vehicles
-of the soul. Homer tells us that Achilles deposited the two locks of
-hair, which he had once promised to his native river god, upon the
-dead body of Patroclus. The use as a sacrifice to the dead of a gift
-dedicated to a god, clearly indicates that the two forms of sacrifice
-possessed an identical significance. The deceased takes with him into
-the underworld part of the person of the sacrificer. Similarly, it
-was believed that the psychical powers of the deity are, on the one
-hand, strengthened through the soul which he receives in sacrifice,
-and are, on the other hand, inclined toward the one who brings the
-offering. In animal sacrifice, the blood was poured out beside the
-sacrificial stone for the enjoyment of the god. Of the inner parts of
-the bloody sacrifice, it was again those that were in ancient times
-regarded as the chief vehicles of the soul, the kidneys with the
-surrounding fat, that were particularly set aside for the god. Closely
-connected with this is the sacrifice which, through self-mutilation,
-the priests and temple servants offered in the case of ecstatic cults
-(pp. 294 f.). In all of these instances the ideas of magic and of gift
-intermingle. The soul-vehicles which are offered are also gifts to the
-deity, intended for his enjoyment. In partaking of them, however, a
-magical influence is released by means of which the will of the deity
-is controlled, or, in the view of a more advanced age, is favourably
-inclined toward the sacrificer. The same idea prevails when public
-sacrifice demands a human being, instead of an animal, as a vicarious
-offering for the sacrificing community. Indeed, human sacrifice also
-has its prototype in the sacrifice to the dead, though the sacrificial
-idea is in this case kept in the background, inasmuch as the dominant
-purpose is to equip the deceased with that which he requires for
-his further life. Human sacrifice proper, therefore, is at most
-connected with faint survivals of this older practice. In contrast
-with the latter custom, the individual sacrificed to the deity serves
-as a _substitute_ for the community. In this form, however, human
-sacrifice does not antedate animal sacrifice, as has been believed,
-but follows upon it. Still later, of course, it was again displaced
-by the latter, as is graphically portrayed in the Biblical legend of
-Abraham and Isaac. The priority of animal sacrifice is attested, first
-of all, by its incomparably wider distribution. Human sacrifice, and
-traditions indicative of it, appear to be altogether restricted to
-the great agricultural festivals and solstice-cults in which the one
-who is sacrificed serves, on the one hand, as a substitute for the
-sacrificing community which offers itself to the deity in his person,
-and, on the other hand, as the representative of the god himself.
-Convincing proof of this is furnished by the traditions regarding the
-seasonal cults of the ancient Mexicans, as these have been reported by
-K. Th. Preusz. Prior to the sacred festival at which an individual was
-offered in sacrifice, he was himself reverenced as a god. The twofold
-significance of the human sacrifice becomes perfectly intelligible in
-the light of the above-mentioned fusion of the ideas of gift and of
-magic. Dedication to the deity and union with him merge so completely
-that they become a single conception. Even the blood poured out upon
-the sacrificial altar was not merely an offering, but, as a vehicle of
-the soul, was supposed to transfer to the deity who received it the
-desires of the offerer. What was true of the blood was quite naturally
-pre-eminently true when the object of sacrifice was the person
-himself. In this case, all the organs were offered, and, therefore,
-the entire soul. This is the most extreme form of the sacrificial idea,
-and occurs only in the sacrificial cult of fairly large political and
-religious communities. As is characteristic of legend, the 'Abraham
-and Isaac' story individualizes the ancient tradition, construing
-the latter as an account of a test of obedience to the god--an
-interpretation very obviously to be regarded as an invention of later
-priestly wisdom. On the other hand, the Roman Saturnalia, the Persian
-festival of Sacæa, and other agricultural cults of the ancient world,
-exhibit traces of the sacrifice of a human being who represents the
-deity himself. Along with these we might probably mention also the
-Babylonian festival of Tammuz and the Jewish feast of Purim. Finally,
-the Christian conception of the sacrificial death of Jesus combines
-the same ideas, though their religious significance is transformed and
-reinforced by the thought of redemption, which has displaced the older
-protective and fortune-bringing magic. The sacrificial community has
-here become the whole of mankind, and the one who by his death brings
-about a reconciliation with the deity is himself the god. For this
-reason dogma insists--with a logic that is perhaps unconscious and
-mystical in nature, yet all the more compelling--on the unity of the
-divine personality with that of the redeemer who died the sacrificial
-death. This fusion of sacrificial conceptions thus gave rise to the
-most impressive and effective story that the human mind ever conceived.
-
-Herewith we reach the culminating point in the development of the
-idea of a gift offered to the deity, and here also the sacrificial
-object attains its highest _worth_. That the sacrificer, however, is
-little concerned with the value of the objects which he brings, is
-obvious from the fact that these are frequently without any objective
-value whatsoever. Such, for example, are the small pictures offered
-in Chinese ancestor cult, and also the miniature representations of
-desired objects which are placed on votive altars--instances in which,
-of the two ideas combined in sacrifice, that of the gift again entirely
-vanishes, leaving as the sole motive the more primitive idea of magic,
-which never completely disappears. Wherever sacrifice is dominated
-by the idea of a gift offered to the deity, the sacrificer, in turn,
-seeks to gain certain ends in return for the value of his gifts. The
-scale of values may be either quantitative or qualitative, or both
-combined. Even in the case of the bloody sacrifice both criteria are,
-as a rule, involved. At the great festivals of Athens and other Greek
-cities, one hundred steers were sacrificed to the gods, the greater
-part of the sacrifice, of course, serving as food for the people. In
-Israel, the rich man sacrificed his bullock, the poor man, his young
-goat. It was the conception of value that caused especially the fruits
-of the field, as well as the products of the cattle industry, milk and
-butter, to become objects of sacrifice. Later, sacrificial offerings
-were also made in terms of jewels and money. These were brought to the
-temple for the decoration of the house of the god and for the support
-of the cult or the relief of the poor. This development was influenced
-by another change, connected with the transition from the earlier
-bloody sacrifice to the bloodless sacrifice. Prior to the influence of
-the sacrificial customs, the bloody sacrifice involved the loss of the
-sacrificial animals. These were either entirely burned and thus given
-to the gods, or their flesh was consumed by the cult members at the
-sacrificial feast, the god receiving only those parts that were prized
-as the vehicles of the soul. Now, bloodless sacrifice belongs to a
-higher stage both of culture and of cult. In general, it presupposes an
-advanced agricultural and cattle industry, as well as the existence of
-more extensive cult-needs whose satisfaction the sacrifice is designed
-to secure. Thus, the two conditions mutually reinforce each other. The
-products of agriculture cannot be directly offered to the deity as
-can the burnt offering, which ascends to heaven in the smoke. On the
-other hand, the cult cannot dispense with certain means, and these are
-obtained by utilizing in its interests the economic foresight which
-has been acquired by the agriculturist and the cattle-raiser in the
-course of their work. In place of the direct products of husbandry,
-the succeeding age more and more substitutes costly jewels and money.
-Thus, the development which began with the burnt offering concludes
-with the money offering. This later offering is no longer made directly
-to the deity, or, at most, this occurs in the accompanying prayer; the
-offerer bestows his gifts upon the temple, the priests, or the poor.
-By so doing he hopes to win the divine favour indirectly, through the
-merit which such gifts possess or through the cult activities which are
-purchased by means of them.
-
-The earliest forms of sacrifice are thus more and more displaced by
-cult agencies which, to a certain extent, themselves approximate to
-purification ceremonies. This transformation, however, cannot suppress
-the original sacrificial purpose, which was solely that of exercising a
-direct magical influence upon the deity. We now meet with phenomena in
-which this purpose asserts itself all the more potently, because of the
-above development--phenomena from which the idea of a gift possessing
-objective value is entirely absent. We refer particularly to votive
-and consecration gifts. These very names, indeed, are evidence of the
-confusion which a one-sided emphasis of the gift-idea has introduced
-into the interpretation of sacrifice. For votive and consecration gifts
-generally consist of artificial objects which are ordinarily devoid of
-any artistic or other value. They are deposited on the altars of the
-gods, or, in the Catholic cult, on those of the saints, either to make
-known a wish, as does the 'gift of consecration,' or, less frequently,
-to render thanks for the fulfilment of a desire, as in the case of the
-'votive offering.' Although these offerings, even in their beginnings,
-are inseparable from a fairly developed deity cult--since they
-presuppose altars upon which they are placed, and, therefore, temples
-consecrated to the gods--it is practically the amulet alone that may
-be said to rival them in extent of distribution. They occur in ancient
-Egypt, as well as in Greece and Rome. They were known also to Germanic
-antiquity, from whence they probably found their way into the Catholic
-cults of Mary and the saints. The consecration gift corresponds to the
-prayer of petition, the votive offering to the prayer of thanksgiving;
-these prayers, accordingly, are spoken when the object is placed upon
-the altar. The gift of consecration is the earlier and more common,
-just as the prayer of petition precedes that of thanksgiving. The
-peculiarity of this cult, however, consists in the fact that the
-object offered as a sacrifice is an artificially fashioned image,
-usually reduced in size, of the object in connection with which aid
-is sought. This obviously gives it a certain relationship with the
-fetish, on the one hand, and with the amulet, on the other. As a matter
-of fact, the so-called 'consecration gifts' are not in the least
-real gifts. The sick man presents a figure of the diseased part of
-his body, fashioned of clay, bronze, or wax, and the peasant who has
-suffered a loss of cattle brings a representation of the animal. In
-themselves, these objects are valueless; nor can they be of service to
-the deity to whom they are brought, as was doubtless believed by the
-sacrificers to be true in the case of the animal that was slaughtered,
-as well as of the blood, and doubtless also of the fruits which were
-offered. The significance of such a gift of consecration lies solely
-in its subjective value, just as does that of the primitive amulet,
-which is likewise an article without any objective worth. To believe,
-however, that this value consists in the fact that the consecration
-gift symbolizes the submissive reverence of the offerer would be to
-read back a later stage of religious thought into an age to which
-such symbols are entirely foreign. Moreover, the purposes of this
-sacrifice make such an interpretation impossible. The vast majority of
-consecration sacrifices have another similarity to amulets, in addition
-to that just mentioned; those who bring them seek healing from disease.
-Hence, in ancient times, such offerings were brought chiefly to the
-temple of Æsculapius. Just as the amulet, in its most common forms,
-is designed as a protection against dreaded sicknesses, so also does
-the consecration gift aim at relief from actual suffering. The amulet,
-however, may be traced far back into the period of demon-cult, and its
-characteristic types, therefore, are patterned on the more prevalent
-expressions of demon-belief, such as cord magic. The consecration
-gift, on the other hand, is associated with deity cult, and takes the
-form of sacrifice. Moreover, it reverts to the most primitive kind of
-sacrifice, to the purely magical offering. The leg of wax offered by
-the lame is simply a means of magic. Since it possesses no objective
-value, it is worthless as a gift, and, as a means of magic, it is
-again of the most primitive sort. The sacrificial object is regarded
-as having a soul, quite in the sense of early animism. Through its
-immanent psychical power it is to exercise magical coercion over the
-soul of the god or the saint. Its potency is precisely the same as that
-which the soul of the sacrificial animal or human being is supposed to
-possess. The only difference is that the external characteristics of
-animistically conceived objects ordinarily force into the background
-the idea that the sacrifice magically becomes identical with the deity
-who receives it, whereas this conception comes out with especial
-clearness when the offering consists of an animal or of a human being.
-This is strikingly shown by the above-mentioned sacrificial festivals,
-in which, prior to being offered as a sacrifice, the individual was
-himself reverenced as the god to whom he was to be offered. True,
-the fact that the human individual, as well as the animal, possesses
-a value for those who bring the sacrifice, also introduces the idea
-of a gift; added to this, moreover, in the case of human sacrifice,
-is the further thought that the sacrifice is a substitution for the
-sacrificial community.
-
-Thus, the idea of a magical effect upon the deity is combined with
-that of a gift designed to gain his favour. This appears also in
-connection with the sacrifice of the _first-fruits of the harvest_ or,
-with what is only a transference from the fruits of the field to the
-animal used in its cultivation, that of the first-born of the cattle.
-From the standpoint of the gift theory, such an offering is regarded
-as a particularly valuable gift. But this greater value is again
-exclusively of a subjective nature. Objectively speaking, the mere
-fact that it is the first of the fruits or the first-born of the cattle
-that is offered, does not give the sacrifice any additional value.
-Very probably the decisive factor is the preference which man gives
-the gods in the enjoyment of the fruits of the field. It certainly
-cannot be denied that this motive is operative, particularly in later
-development. That it was the original notion, however, is improbable.
-Obviously, this offering is closely related to the custom, common
-even to-day, of leaving the last sheaf in the harvest-field. This
-custom, which W. Mannhardt was able to trace from ancient times down to
-rural festivals that are still prevalent, is also of the nature of a
-sacrifice. On such occasions, an egg, a piece of bread, or the picture
-of a human being or of an animal, is sometimes tied to the first or to
-the last sheaf of the harvest and left upon the field. Such acts are
-obviously due to the need of attributing to the garnered grain life and
-a soul, as well as the ability to influence by its soul the vegetation
-demons of the field, and, in later times, the gods who protect the
-cultivated soil. The custom could scarcely have originated except
-for the presence, from the very outset, of the idea of a psychical
-power resident in the sprouting seed. Later, the idea of a gift here
-also forced the magical motive into the background. Indeed, it may
-well be that this caused the sacrificial usages which originally, as
-it appears, marked the end of the harvest, to be put forward to its
-beginning.
-
-It is only ideas of magic, furthermore, that can account for the
-practice of _divination_. Connected with sacrifice are various
-phenomena that are accidental in nature and unforeseeable on the part
-of the sacrificer. These phenomena are such as to be sometimes regarded
-as indications of the acceptance or the rejection of the sacrifice
-on the part of the deity, while at other times they are interpreted
-from a different point of view, as general prophetic signs. In the
-case of the burnt offering, for example, the direct ascent of the
-smoke to the heavens was regarded as a sign that the deity graciously
-accepted the offering. Similarly, the examination of entrails, common
-among Oriental as well as Occidental peoples, originally, doubtless,
-had the purpose of discovering whether the animal possessed a nature
-pleasing to the gods. Later, however, it became one of a large class
-of general prophetic signs (_prodigia_), such as the flight of
-birds, lightning, clouds, and other incalculable phenomena of nature
-by which the future was predicted, particularly in respect to the
-success or failure of enterprises about to be undertaken. Because of
-the general relationship of magic and divination, the sacrificial
-cult borders upon the _oracle_. In the oracle, man wishes to read the
-future; in the sacrifice, he wishes to influence it by his action.
-This of itself implies that sacrifice occupies the higher plane.
-The belief in prophetic signs passed over from demon cult to deity
-worship with relatively little change, except that it became connected
-with particular gods or priesthoods and was therefore more strictly
-regulated. The hopes of a beyond, which were involved in the ecstatic
-practices of the orgiastic cults, opened up a new field to prophecy,
-and supplied divination with additional methods--the dream and the
-vision. Though connected in various ways with sacrificial cult, these
-phenomena are far from containing the wealth of religious motives
-involved in the former. Nor do they develop any common cult. This is
-due particularly to the fact that ecstatic visions are dependent upon a
-certain psychological predisposition, a fact which also enables us to
-understand the influence exercised by the individual seer and prophet
-upon religion and cult.
-
-A third, and the highest, form of cult practice consists in
-_sanctification ceremonies_. Just as sacrifice is bound up with
-the various forms of prayer--conjuration, petition, thanksgiving,
-and penitence--so, in turn, is the sanctification ceremony closely
-connected with both sacrifice and prayer. On the one hand, it is
-reinforced by accompanying prayers; on the other, it results directly
-from sacrifice, particularly whenever the latter takes the form of a
-cult practice that brings mankind into association with the deity.
-In this event, the ceremony of sanctification represents an activity
-supplementary to sacrifice. The impulse to sanctification gains the
-dominance over the sacrificial idea as soon as the desires relating to
-the personal worth of the sacrificer himself gain ascendancy over the
-external motives which at first prevailed. This subjective interest,
-of course, appears only after the religious life has become relatively
-mature; at the outset, moreover, it is still everywhere combined with
-sacrificial practices that centre about external possessions. Once it
-has finally freed itself, and has become purely a sacrifice designed to
-enhance personal worth, it becomes a _means of sanctification_. When
-sacrifice has reached this highest stage, however, the idea of a gift
-presented to the deity by the sacrificer completely disappears--in so
-far, there is a resemblance to the very earliest sacrifices, which were
-of a purely magical nature and were in no sense intended as gifts. If,
-therefore, the sacrifice of self-sanctification retains any connection
-at all with the conception of a gift, the sacrificer must not only
-be said to offer himself to the deity but the deity must likewise be
-regarded as giving himself to the sacrificer.
-
-Nevertheless, the origins of sanctification ceremonies and of sacrifice
-are essentially diverse. At the outset, moreover, these cult practices
-adopt different paths, meeting only at the height of their development.
-True, the sanctification ceremony is rooted in magic belief, just as
-is sacrifice. In primitive sacrifice, however, the magic is directed
-externally; in the case of sanctification, on the other hand, the
-object of the magic is the human being himself who performs the cult
-action or who permits it to be performed upon him. Even in the earliest
-stages of these practices, therefore, the sanctification ceremony
-occupies the higher level; hence, also, this ceremony is subsequent in
-origin to sacrifice. And yet practices presaging sanctification may be
-found in much more primitive cults, in the _purification ceremonies_,
-whose beginnings may be traced far back into the totemic age. We have
-already mentioned the fact that water and fire were used as means of
-magical purification even in the period of demon-belief (pp. 201 ff).
-So long as they retain this significance, they may both be classed
-as agencies of counter-magic. Their function is to counteract the
-evil spells that result from contact with a corpse or with some other
-object that is regarded as taboo. Purification by fire has the same
-significance. Because of the more elaborate preparations which it
-requires, however, such purification tends, from the very beginning,
-to take the form of a public cult celebration. As a result, it passes
-over directly from the field of counter-magic into that of magic
-proper--a reversal common in the field of magical usage. At this point,
-purification becomes sanctification. For, the original purpose of the
-means which the latter employs is always that of affording protection
-against _future_ attacks on the part of the demoniacal powers that
-threaten man from without, or, in a later and a religiously purified
-interpretation, against personal transgressions resulting from man's
-inner nature. Herewith the development reaches the stage of the
-sanctification ceremony proper. The belief that sanctification is
-necessary for the individual can arise only in connection with deity
-beliefs, for it is bound up with ideas of retribution. The latter, in
-turn, depend upon the feeling of the personal guilt of the individual
-no less than upon the belief in the existence of personal gods who
-avenge the sins that are committed. Precisely the same change that
-takes place in the development of purification by fire transpires also
-in the case of water, the second and more common means of lustration.
-Here this transition is most clearly evident in connection with
-_baptism_. True, even Christian baptism still partly retains the
-idea of lustration. For, though the newborn child who is baptized is
-not himself conscious of any wrongdoing, he is nevertheless tainted,
-according to the doctrine of inherited guilt, by the original sin from
-which he must be cleansed. Baptism thus incorporates the meaning both
-of purification and of sanctification. The latter conception, however,
-asserts its dominance. And yet the Anabaptists, though insisting that
-man is unworthy of the sacred act unless he submits to it of his
-own free will, have also wished to preserve, along with the idea of
-sanctification, the idea of purification, which is both more original
-and, for sense perception, more real. Moreover, baptism also occurs
-with this twofold meaning outside the pale of Christianity, not only
-among the Hebrews, to whom the Christian religion is indebted for
-the cult, but even elsewhere, particularly among Semitic and African
-peoples. Sometimes it occurs alongside of another very common custom,
-that of _circumcision_; sometimes, as in Christendom, it is found
-where the latter is lacking; in still other regions, circumcision is
-practised, whereas there is no real baptism aside from the ordinary
-rites of lustration. This diversity itself testifies to the essential
-difference between the two cult practices--for that circumcision also
-must be classed as such there cannot be any doubt. Circumcision,
-however, is not a means either of purification or of sanctification,
-but is of the nature of a _sacrifice_. Along with the offering of hair
-in the cult of the dead and with the pouring out of blood in connection
-with deity worship, it belongs to that form of sacrifice in which
-the sacrificial object gains its unique value by virtue of its being
-the vehicle of the soul. Thus, the object of sacrifice, in the case
-of circumcision, may perhaps be interpreted as a substitute for such
-internal organs as the kidneys or testicles, which are particularly
-prized as vehicles of the soul but which can either not be offered at
-all, on the part of the living, or whose sacrifice involves serious
-difficulties.
-
-Originally, sanctification and lustration not only employed the same
-means but also followed identical methods. The need frequently came to
-be felt, however, of an external distinction between these two cult
-practices. Ablution thus came to be regarded as the proper method of
-actual purification, whereas _sprinkling_ was adopted in connection
-with sanctification. This also indicates the antithetical positions
-which the two hold with respect to magic and counter-magic. Lustration
-aims to remove moral, or, in the last analysis, demoniacal impurity;
-sanctification furnishes him who seeks its blessings with water
-possessed of magical powers. For this reason purification water fell
-into disuse with the disappearance of belief in demoniacal impurity.
-On the other hand, it was believed that sanctification water must
-remain as available as possible to him who stands in need of its
-virtues. Just as baptism is a cult agency whose purpose is intermediate
-between purification and sanctification, so also does the priest
-who conducts it lay emphasis, now on the one, and now on the other
-of these phases. When sprinkling comes to be employed as a means of
-sanctification, the magical significance of the act leads to a further
-change. Ordinary water, such as is generally used in lustration,
-no longer suffices--the water itself needs sanctification if it is
-to serve the purpose for which it is designed. Even in the ancient
-mystery cults, therefore, one of the chief elements in the ceremonies
-of sanctification consisted in sprinkling the members with water from
-sacred springs. The Jordan festival of the Greek Catholic Church still
-employs water from the river after which it is named, or ordinary water
-that has magically been converted into Jordan water. The relation of
-the burning of incense to lustration by fire is the same as that of
-sprinkling to lustration by water. And yet, in the case of incense,
-the idea of sanctification has almost entirely suppressed the earlier
-aim of purification. The purpose of sanctification finds its specific
-expression in the belief that the smoke cannot have a sanctifying
-effect without the addition of certain other elements. Balsamic
-substances were therefore used. First and foremost among these, even
-in ancient times, was incense resin, whose exciting and narcotic odour
-enhances the magical effect. The herbs and resins that were thrown
-into the flames, however, were also generally regarded as sacrificial
-gifts to the gods, whose delight in the ascending odours would, it was
-thought, render them favourably disposed toward the offerer.
-
-Thus, sanctification ceremony and sacrifice become merged. The highest
-form of sanctification, moreover, originates in sacrifice itself. It
-appears as soon as the idea of intercourse with the deity becomes
-elevated to that of communion with him. This occurs especially in
-the _sacrificial feast_. When the sacrificial food is sanctified by
-virtue of the fact that the deity partakes of it, this sanctification
-is imparted to those human individuals who receive a share of the
-sacrifice. In proportion as the worth of the sacrifice increases,
-so does also the degree of sanctification. The latter reaches its
-culmination in _human sacrifice_, where the person sacrificed is the
-representative both of the sacrificial community and of the deity
-himself. Sanctification here becomes deification for every participant
-in the sacrifice. Following the disappearance of human sacrifice,
-this idea was maintained in connection with the sacred animal that
-was substituted for man, and finally, after bloody sacrifice was
-entirely abandoned, in connection with the bread which constituted
-the sacrificial food. In the most diverse cults of the Old and of
-the New World, this bread was moulded into the form, sometimes of
-a human being and sometimes of an animal. In this case again, the
-sacrificial cult of Christianity unites the various elements. When
-taken as a whole, the different interpretations that have been given
-to sacrifice in the Christian world include conceptions representing
-all the various stages of development. The bread and wine of the
-sacrament perpetuate the memory of the most exalted human sacrifice
-known to religious tradition, since, in this case, the idea of the
-unity of the sacrificial person with the deity continues to survive in
-the cult of the redeeming deity. In this sacrificial meal, moreover,
-elements of related sacrificial cults survive--the idea of the paschal
-lamb, borrowed from the Jewish Passover, and the substitution of wine,
-as in the Dionysian mysteries, for the blood of the sacrificed god.
-To the Christian, moreover, this sacrificial sanctification has had
-_three_ distinct meanings, though these, of course, have frequently
-been intermingled. There have been magical, mystical, and symbolical
-interpretations--a series of stages through which all sanctification
-ceremonies pass. To the uncritical mind, he who receives the bread of
-the sacrament partakes of the actual body of Christ. Following upon
-this stage of miracle and magic, is the idea that the cult act effects
-a mystical union with the Redeemer, a union that is not corporeal
-but spiritual. At the third stage, the cult action finally becomes
-the symbol of a religious exaltation of spirit. This exaltation is
-regarded as possible in itself without the external manifestation;
-nevertheless, it is reinforced by the latter, in accordance with the
-general relationship that obtains between inner needs and external
-actions. Moreover, in each of these three cases, participation
-in the common sacrificial meal is evidence of membership in the
-religious society--a feature common to all firmly organized religious
-associations. Such membership must be attested by participation in the
-cult celebrations. Of the ceremonies in which expression is given to
-one's religious affiliations, the sacrificial meal has been regarded,
-from early times on, as the most important. The end of the development
-thus returns to its beginning. The meal, enjoyed in common at fixed
-times, differentiates cultural man from the man of nature. Among all
-meals in which a relatively large community unites, however, the
-sacrificial feast is probably the earliest, just as the cult festival
-is the earliest festival celebration.
-
-
-
-17. THE ART OF THE HEROIC AGE.
-
-
-A survey of the various phases of human interest will show that they
-are all present from the very beginning in the mental organization
-of man. Moreover, they are throughout so interconnected that an
-advance in one field of interest will lead to progress in general.
-Nevertheless, we are unable to escape the further observation that,
-in the life of the individual, certain capacities develop earlier
-than others. Precisely the same is true of the life of humanity. The
-phenomena in which the character of ages and peoples receives its chief
-expression differ in each of the periods through which the development
-of mankind passes. The secondary phenomena, in each case, either occur
-only in their beginnings or, where we are dealing with later stages
-of culture, are being perfected along lines already established. In
-this relative sense, we may doubtless say of the three eras following
-that of primitive man, that totemism is the age of the _satisfaction
-of wants_, the heroic age, that of _art_, and the succeeding period
-of the development to humanity, that of _science_. Of course, there
-were many art productions, some of them admirable, even in the totemic
-age--we need mention only the artistic cult dances, or the high
-perfection to which the semi-cultural peoples of the period attained
-in the decoration of the body and of weapons. It must be admitted
-also that the heroic age already laid imperishable foundations for
-science. Nevertheless, the main achievements of the totemic age relate
-exclusively to the satisfaction of the external needs of life. The
-modes of procuring and preparing food, and the forms of clothing,
-adornment, implements, and weapons--all originated in the totemic
-age, and, however great may have been the advances made by succeeding
-eras along these several lines, the beginnings had nevertheless been
-made. A manner of dress suitable to the climate had been developed.
-The preparation of food by means of fire, the manufacture of the
-fundamental and permanent implements and weapons--the hammer, the axe,
-the saw, the chisel, the knife--and, finally, the differentiation
-between weapons of close and of long range, had all been introduced.
-Moreover--and this is perhaps most significant of all--art itself was
-governed absolutely by the motive of satisfying needs. Articles of
-adornment, tattooing, the dance, song, and music, were first of all
-means of magic, and as such they served the most urgent needs, such
-as man by himself was unable to satisfy. These needs were protection
-against sickness and success in the chase and in war. Only gradually,
-through a most remarkable heterogeny of ends, were many of these
-agencies of magic transformed into _pure means of adornment_. Such
-transformations, of course, occurred also in the heroic age. But by
-this time the necessities of life had in part changed and, of the new
-interests, those connected with cult and with political organization
-gained an increasing importance. Æsthetic value came to be more and
-more appreciated as an independent feature of objects. As a result,
-articles were produced of a nature such as to minister both to the
-needs of life and to æsthetic enjoyment. But, again, this occurs
-pre-eminently within the field of spiritual needs, particularly in
-connection with deity cult, on the one hand, and in the glorification
-of human heroes, on the other. The construction of the temple, the
-plastic reproduction of the human form and its idealization into
-the divine image, and, finally, the forms of literature--the epic,
-the hymn, and the beginnings of the religious drama, with their
-accompanying music--all of these spring from the spiritual needs of
-this age, among which needs cult is the foremost. With these various
-activities, art begins an independent development, gaining a value
-of its own, and conquering fields that had previously been untouched
-by æsthetic influences. This conquest of new fields by the higher
-forms of art is indicative also of an increasing appreciation of the
-æsthetic, and, along with this, of a spiritualization of life as a
-whole, such as results, in a particular measure, from art, and only
-partly, and at a much later period, from science. The first subjects
-of this art are heroes and gods--that is, those figures which the
-imagination creates at the threshold of the heroic age, under the
-influence of the new conditions of life. Gradually art then concerns
-itself with the human personality and with the objects of man's
-environment. In correspondence with a change which transpired in the
-totemic age, in which means of magic were transformed into articles
-of adornment, the objects of nature and culture are now more and
-more stripped of their mythological significance and elevated into
-pure objects of æsthetic appreciation. Thus, the heroic age includes
-the two most important epochs in the entire history of art. These
-are the origin of a true religious art, and the attainment of an
-æsthetic independence which allows art to extend its influence to all
-departments of human life. Religious art made its appearance with the
-beginning of the heroic age; æsthetic independence represents a later
-achievement. This explains why the totemic age seems to us a vanished
-world, no less with regard to its art than in other respects. It can
-arouse our æsthetic interest only if we attribute the final product
-of this period--namely, decoration freed from its original magical
-significance--to the motives that really underlie artistic activity.
-The art with which we are still familiar and whose motives we can all
-still appreciate, begins only with the heroic age. The tattooing of
-the man of nature and the amulet about his neck are to us adornments
-of low æsthetic value. A Greek temple, however, may even to-day
-arouse the mood of worship, and the battles of the Homeric heroes and
-the tragedy of a Prometheus overtaken by the wrath of the gods may
-still impress us as real. However remote the age may be which these
-products of art represent, the general spirit which animated it has not
-vanished. The greatest turning-point in the spiritual history of man
-consists in the stupendous achievement which inaugurates the heroic
-age. I refer to the creation of the ideal man, the hero, and of the
-god in whom heroic characteristics are magnified into the superhuman
-and demoniacal. Here lies the beginning of a real history of art;
-everything earlier is prehistoric, however important it may be for
-a psychological understanding of art--an importance greater than is
-generally supposed, since it is only these earliest phenomena that can
-disclose the conditions underlying the first manifestations of the
-artistic imagination. Since we may assume that the facts of the history
-of art are generally familiar, it may here suffice to consider these
-originating factors and their relation to the general character of the
-heroic age.
-
-The first and most striking characteristic of the new era is the
-development of _architecture_. This is a new art, not to be found in
-the preceding age, or at most only in very meagre beginnings. The
-gabled and the conical hut, as well as the tent and the wind-break from
-which they developed, are not artistic creations, but are products of
-the most urgent needs of life. The impulse to erect a building for
-any higher purpose than this, manifested itself first of all when,
-here and there, the need of the living was attributed also to the
-dead. For the shelter of the dead, soul and ancestor cults demanded
-the erection of more permanent structures. Hence there appeared the
-burial chamber, built of solid stone. Its walls, designed to afford
-protection from without, were likewise constructed of stone, and
-constantly became more massive. This stimulated a sense of the sublime
-and eternal, which reacted on the construction of the monuments and
-gave them a character far transcending the need that called them into
-being. The development of the gigantic Egyptian pyramids out of the
-simple walled tomb, the mastaba, tells us this significant story in
-pictures that impress the imagination more vividly than words. But the
-cult of the dead, which this history records, was itself intimately
-connected with deity cult. The preservation of the mummy involved
-every possible protection of the corpse from the destructive agencies
-of time. This fact reveals a concern relating to incalculable ages,
-and thus gives evidence of an idea of a beyond into which the deceased
-is supposed to enter. Besides the house of the dead, therefore, there
-is the house belonging to the deity, and this is even more directly
-and universally characteristic of the age. This edifice, into which
-man may enter and come into the presence of the deity, stimulates the
-incomparably deeper impulse to build a structure worthy of the deity
-for whom it is erected. Thus, then, we have the _temple_, designed
-at the outset for the protection of the sacrificial altar, which had
-originally been erected in the open, upon consecrated ground. Since it
-is located at the seat of government, at the place where the citizens
-assemble for the conduct of political affairs and for purposes of
-trade, the temple is indicative also of the city and of the State.
-Secular interests likewise begin to assert themselves. Hence there
-appears a second mark of the city, the _castle_, which is the seat of
-the ruler and of the governing power, and is generally also the final
-defence, when hostile attacks threaten the city and State. Closely
-connected with the castle, in all regions in which the ruler lays
-claim to being a terrestrial deity--as he did, for example, in the
-ancient realms of the Orient--is the _royal palace_. In harmony with
-the twofold position of the ruler, his dwelling is architecturally
-intermediate between the castle and the temple. Thus, it is the temple,
-the castle, and the palace, whose development not only awakens the
-æsthetic sense for architectural forms, but also gives impetus to the
-other arts, especially to sculpture and to ornamentation. The latter
-had previously found material for its expression in the utensils of
-daily use. Enriched through its connection with architectural forms,
-it now recurs to the miniature work of utensils and implements, where
-it more and more serves a purely æsthetic need. Of the works of
-architecture belonging to the early part of this period, it is the
-temple which proves the greatest æsthetic stimulus. This is due not
-only to its more exalted purpose, but also to the impetus derived from
-the fact of the multiplicity of gods. The castle represents the unity
-of the State. Hence the State contains but one such structure, erected,
-whenever possible, upon a hill overlooking the city. The temple,
-from early times on, is the exclusive possession of a single deity.
-The idea of harbouring several deities in a single structure could
-arise only later, as a result of special cult conditions and of the
-increasing size of the sacred edifices. Even then, however, the need
-for unity in the cult generally caused each temple to be dedicated to
-a specific deity, the chief god of the temple. Hand in hand with this
-went a striving for richness and diversity in architecture. The temple,
-therefore, expresses in a pre-eminent degree not only the character of
-the religious cult, but also the mental individuality of the people to
-whom the gods and their cult owe their origin.
-
-Closely connected with temple construction is _sculpture_, for, in it,
-the importance which the human personality receives in this age finds
-its most direct expression. Sculpture, moreover, clearly exhibits
-the gradual advance from the generic to the individual, from a value
-originally placed on man as such to absorption in the particular
-characteristics of the individual. The early, 'generic' figure is
-generally a representation of the divine personality who has inspired
-the artist to create an image for the sacred shrine. Art does not aim
-at the outset to copy man himself; it transfers his characteristics to
-the deity, and only thus, and after laborious efforts, does it attain
-its mastery over the human form. True, the gods are conceived as
-human from the very beginning. So long, however, as the sacrificial
-stone and the altar stand in the open field, this humanization leads
-but to inartistic images, similar to fetishes. While these images
-indicate the presence of the gods at the sacred places, they are not
-intended as likenesses of the deities themselves. In their external
-appearance, therefore, the fetishes of early deity cult still impress
-one as survivals of the totemic age, even though the gods are no
-longer represented after the fashion of demons, namely, as subhuman,
-possessing animal or grotesque human forms. The conditions obtaining in
-life generally were repeated in the realm of art. For the transference
-of purely human characteristics to the image took place in the case
-of the hero--or, what amounts to the same thing in the great Oriental
-civilizations of antiquity, in that of the ruler--earlier than in
-the case of the deity. The ruler is glorified by means of drawings
-which represent processions of the hunt and of war, and which are
-executed on the walls of his palaces. Similarly, the religious impulse
-expresses itself in the erection of an anthropomorphic image of the
-deity. This image is placed either in the temple, which is regarded
-as the dwelling-place of the deity, or in some commanding part of the
-city which reverences the god as its protector. Here, however, we come
-upon a noteworthy proof of the fusion of the hero with the demon as
-described above. From Babylonian and Egyptian monuments we learn that
-the ruler and his retinue were already represented in human form at a
-period when deity cult still retained hybrid forms of men and animals,
-sometimes of the nature of animal demons with human faces, or again
-as human figures with animal heads. Thus, art strikingly confirms
-the view that the gods arose from a fusion of the hero personality
-with the demon. When these external characteristics, due to the past
-history of gods and their connection with demon beliefs, came to be
-superseded, the divine image at first reproduced only the typical
-features of man. In addition to overtowering size, external marks,
-such as dress, weapons, and sacred animals, were the only evidences
-of deity. The first step in the transition from the generic figure
-to the gradual individualization of personality occurs in connection
-with the facial expression. It is surprising to note the uniformity
-with which, in all the civilizations of the Old World, the images
-of the gods, as well as those of the heroes and rulers, acquire an
-expression of kindliness and gentleness. This trait, however, is
-again of a generic nature. The stiff, expressionless form has indeed
-disappeared, but the expression that supervenes is uniform. Though we
-have referred to this transition as universal, this is true at most
-as regards the fact that, on the one hand, the expression of complete
-indifference gives way to one manifesting emotion, and that, on the
-other, this emotion, though pronounced, again exhibits uniformity.
-In the quality of this feeling, differences in the character of
-peoples may come to light, just as they do in myth and religion, with
-which sculpture in its first stages is closely connected. In the two
-great cultural regions of the New World, Mexico and Peru, there is a
-similar transition. The cults of these peoples, however, emphasize
-the fear-inspiring character of the gods. Hence, in their art, the
-terrifying grimace of the earliest divine images becomes moderated
-into an expression of gloomy, melancholy seriousness--a change such as
-the art of the Old World approximates only in occasional productions
-that fall rather within the province of the demoniacal, such as the
-image of the Egyptian sphinx or the gorgon's head of the Greeks. Thus,
-the transition from features that are entirely expressionless to such
-as are generic, and then to those that characterize the individual
-personality, occurs in connection with a change in the quality of the
-emotions. To illustrate the relative uniformity of this development
-we might likewise refer to the early Renaissance. Here again it was
-necessary to seek a path to the concrete wealth of personality that
-had been lost. Art reached this goal by way of the pathetic expression
-of humble submission. As soon as plastic art departs from the typical
-form, we find not only that a change occurs in the expressions of the
-face, but also that the entire body becomes more lifelike. Along with
-this, the themes of plastic art pass from the gods, rulers, and heroes
-to the lower levels of everyday life. Even here art at first continues
-to be fascinated by the great and conspicuous, though it later gains
-more and more interest in the _significant_. This striving for reality
-in its wealth of individual phenomena is characteristic not only of
-sculpture, however, but also of painting. Disregarding the bodily
-form in favour of the portrait, painting first acquires new means of
-characterization in colour and shading; then, passing from man to his
-natural environment, it wins from nature the secrets of perspective,
-and thus gains a far greater mastery over the depths of space than was
-possible to sculpture. _Landscape painting_, moreover, unlocks for art
-that rich world of emotions and moods which man may create from the
-impressions of nature, and which attain to purity of expression in
-proportion as man himself disappears from the artistic reproduction of
-his environment. Thus, the final product of pictorial art, together
-with such paintings as those of still life and the interior, all of
-which are psychologically related inasmuch as they express moods,
-represent the most subjective stage of art, for they dispense with the
-subject himself whose emotions they portray. All the more, therefore,
-are these emotions read into nature, whose processes and activities now
-constitute the content of personal experience. Once it attains to this
-development, however, landscape art is already far beyond the borders
-of the heroic age. Indeed, the Renaissance itself advanced no farther
-than to the threshold of this most subjective form of pictorial art.
-This art represents the hero--however broad a conception of him we may
-form--as in all respects a human individual. Thus, art again returns to
-the being whose ideal enhancement originally gave rise to the hero.
-
-The changes which the forms of æsthetic expression undergo within the
-field of formative art, are paralleled, on the whole, by those of the
-_musical_ arts. By this term, as above remarked, we wish to designate
-all those arts which depend from the outset upon the _external_
-factors of tone and rhythm ultimately employed most freely in music
-(cf. p. 262). In the preceding age, only _one_ of these arts, the
-_dance_, really reached any considerable development. Of the two
-elements of the musical arts, rhythm was as yet predominant. The dance
-received but little melodic support from the voice; noise instruments
-had the ascendancy over musical instruments. The further development
-of these arts leads to continued progress, particularly with respect
-to the melodic forms of expression. These begin with the language of
-speech, and gradually pass on to the pure clang formations produced
-solely by manufactured instruments. Corresponding with this external
-change is an inner change of motives, influenced, of course, by the
-varying materials which enter into the creations of the musical arts.
-From the very beginning, the character of this material is involved in
-constant change, as is also language, which is the basis of all these
-arts, and whose rhythmical-melodic forms cannot be arrested at any
-moment of its living development. The attempt to render permanent some
-of the movements of this flowing process, by means of literary records
-or definite symbols, is but an inadequate substitute for the enduring
-power with which the mute creations of sculpture and of architecture
-withstand the destructive influences of time. Just because of this
-plasticity of their working material, however, the musical arts are
-enabled all the more faithfully to portray the thoughts and feelings
-that move the artist and his age. Particularly where these thoughts and
-feelings are directly reproduced in language, the work, even though
-coming down from a long-departed past, has an incomparably greater
-power to transport us to its world than is ever possible to plastic
-art. How much more vividly do we not experience the life of the Homeric
-heroes while reading the Iliad than when viewing the Mycenian art of
-that period!
-
-Of all the products of the verbal arts, it is the epic that most
-faithfully mirrors the character of the heroic age as a whole. The
-human hero here stands in the forefront of action. His battles and
-fortunes and a laudatory description of his qualities constitute the
-main themes of the poem. In the background, appears the world of gods.
-It receives no attention apart from its relation to the action. The
-gods, it is true, take a hand in the destinies of the heroes--they
-quarrel about them, or, when the need is greatest, descend to the earth
-and, though unrecognized, assist them in battles. As for the rest,
-however, their life lies outside the sphere of the epic narrative;
-it appears to be an even and undisturbed course of existence into
-which change enters only in so far as there is a participation in the
-affairs of the terrestrial world. Such is the epic at the zenith of
-its development and as it receives expression in the Homeric poems.
-Though such poetry be traced back to its beginnings, the gods will not
-be found to play any greater rôle, as we should be led to expect were
-the theory of many mythologists true that the hero saga developed out
-of the deity saga and, correspondingly, the heroic epic out of the
-deity epic. In confirmation of our assertion, we might point to the
-Russian and Servian romances, and also to the songs of the Kara-Kirghiz
-and to the Finnish Kalewala, though the Kalewala has not come down
-to us in quite its original form. The Norse Edda, which has been at
-the basis of certain misconceptions regarding this question, should
-not here be drawn into consideration, though, were it examined, it
-would substantiate, if anything, the opposite of what is supposed. It
-dates from a later period, which no longer believed, as we may assume
-that the Homeric rhapsodists did, in the gods and heroes of which it
-sang. The Norse skalds dealt, in their songs, with a departed world,
-whose memory they endeavoured to renew; they drew their material from
-märchen-myths and from folk-sagas. If, now, we turn to that poetry
-of the Slavic and Turkish tribes which is really preparatory to epic
-poetry, we find certain radical differences. Here also, of course,
-there are imaginary beings who either take a hand in the battles and
-destinies of the heroes or, through the magic over which the human hero
-as yet still frequently disposes, come to identify themselves with
-heroes. These beings, however, are not gods, but demons. They possess
-no personal traits whatsoever. Such traits are lacking also to the
-hero in proportion as he makes use of magical powers rather than of an
-enhanced measure of human ability. Thus, it is the _world of demons_,
-not that of gods, which forms the background of the early epic. As
-regards the hero himself, it is apparent from his characteristics that
-he is on the border-line between the hero of märchen and the epic hero.
-This development of the epic again mirrors the development of the hero
-saga described above. But, since epic poetry gives permanence to the
-unstable characters of the folk-saga, and thus, in turn, reacts upon
-the saga itself, its development is all the more capable of presenting
-a clear picture of that fusion of demon with human hero which gave rise
-to the god. It is by virtue of his human characteristics that the hero
-of the early epic is distinguished from the demons whose world as yet
-always forms his scene of action. These human characteristics are then
-more and more transferred to the demons. Throughout all these changes
-of environment, the hero remains the central figure of epic poetry, and
-continues to develop purely human characteristics. Hence it is that, at
-a later period, the gods again completely disappear from the action,
-and the destinies of human heroes come to be the exclusive concern
-of the epic. At this stage, it is no longer external factors that
-determine the destiny of the hero, as they did when demons and, later,
-gods were supreme; inner motives, whose source lies within the hero
-himself, are of paramount importance. When this occurs, however, epic
-poetry, has already passed beyond the boundaries of the heroic age.
-
-At one time it was held that the Homeric epic, so far from marking the
-climax of a development in which the world of heroes was brought into
-relation with that of the gods, really inaugurated epic poetry. During
-this period, the rhythmic-melodic form of Homer was regarded as the
-beginning of all narrative. Indeed, at times it has been thought to
-represent the beginning of language. Following the view of Jacob Grimm,
-it was maintained that poetry was the earliest form of speech, and
-that prose came through a process of deterioration analogous to that by
-which prehistoric deity and hero sagas passed into the märchen. This
-theory, of course, is just as untenable for the history of language and
-poetry as it is for that of the saga. The original narrative is the
-märchen-myth that passes artlessly from mouth to mouth. The transition
-to a form which is at first loosely constructed and then more strictly
-metrical, is clearly bound up with the transition from the hero of
-the märchen to the hero of the saga. Coincident with this, gods also
-gradually gain a place in epic poetry. This development is accompanied
-by _two_ important external changes. The first of these involves the
-transformation of the everyday prose, in which the märchen-myth had
-been expressed, into rhythmic-melodic forms. These are reinforced by
-a simple musical accompaniment that gives to the diction itself the
-character of a recitative melody. The second change consists in the
-fact that separate narratives are joined into a series, the basis of
-connection being, in part, the heroes who participate in the action
-and, in part, the content of the action itself. Thus, a romance-cycle
-arises, which, when supplemented by connecting narratives, finally
-develops into a great epic. As might be supposed, it is primarily
-the first and the last stage of this development that are accessible
-to direct observation--the romances of the early epic, preserved in
-folk-poetry, and the perfected poems, such as the Homeric epics and
-the _Niebelungenlied_. As regards the formation of these epics out of
-their separate elements, we can do no more than to frame hypotheses on
-the basis of somewhat uncertain inferences relating to differences in
-style and composition. There can be no doubt, however, that the more
-important step as regards the form of the epic, namely, the development
-of rhythmic-melodic expression, was directly bound up with its very
-first stage, namely, with the appearance of the earliest form of the
-heroic narrative--a form resembling the romance.
-
-But how may we account for this origin? Does the narrative of itself
-rise to song because of the more exalted character of its content?
-Or, is the rhythmic-melodic form imposed upon it from other previously
-existing types of poetry? Such poetry exists. The simple songs of
-primitive man we have already come to know; besides these, there
-are the cult-song, whose conjurations and petitions were addressed
-to demons prior to the advent of gods and heroes, and, finally, the
-work-song. This at once indicates that we must postulate a transference
-from the lyric type of song, taken in its broadest sense, to the
-narrative. Nevertheless, the first of the above-mentioned factors must
-not be disregarded. The heroic hero, of course, arouses far greater
-admiration and enthusiasm than did the märchen-hero. Here, as in the
-case of the song, the intensification of mental excitement causes its
-verbal expression to assume rhythmic forms, precisely as the dominance
-of festive and joyous emotion in the dance transforms the external
-movements of the body into rhythmical pantomime. Doubtless, therefore,
-it was primarily from the cult-song, and under the influence of a
-related poetic ecstasy, that a sustained rhythmical form was carried
-over to the portrayal of the hero personality and his deeds. And so, as
-is clearly shown by the romance-like beginnings of epic composition,
-the metrical form of the epic first follows current song-forms, and
-then gradually adapts these to the specific needs of the narrative.
-Now, the earliest characteristic of the song, and that which at a
-primitive stage constitutes almost its only difference from ordinary
-speech, is the refrain. In the epic, the rhythm becomes smoother. The
-refrain disappears entirely, or occurs at most in the case of regularly
-recurring connective phrases or of stereotyped expressions relating
-to the attributes of the gods and heroes. These aid the rhapsodist
-in maintaining an uninterrupted, rhythmic flow of speech, and also
-continue to be used as means for intensifying the rhythmic impression.
-
-Epic poetry thus develops out of the earlier forms of lyric
-composition, through a process by which the exalted mood of the song
-is transferred to the portrayal of the hero personality. Finally,
-however, the epic itself reacts upon the lyric. Here again the
-cult-song occupies the foreground. When it reaches the stage of the
-hymn, its most effective content is found in narratives that centre
-about divine deeds which far transcend human capacities, or about
-the beneficent activity of the deity toward man. The tendency to
-incorporate such narratives is particularly marked in the song of
-praise and thanksgiving, which comes to occupy the dominant place in
-religious cult for the very reason that the mood which it expresses is
-at the basis of the common cult. At this point, cult acquires a further
-feature, the preconditions of which, however, date back to the age of
-demon cults. Even in the case of demons, aid was sought not merely by
-means of conjurations but also by means of _actions_ that imitated,
-in dances and solemn mask processions, the activities of demons. In
-the great vegetation festivals of New Mexico and Arizona, which are
-intermediate between demon and deity cults, there were imitative
-magical rites connected with the subterranean demons of the sprouting
-grain, with the rain-giving cloud demons above the earth, and also with
-the bright celestial gods who dwell beyond the clouds. After having
-originated in this sequence, these elements became united into a cult
-dance whose combination of motives resulted in the mimetic play, the
-imitative and pantomimic representation of a series of actions. Thus,
-the mime itself is the original form of the _drama_, which now takes
-its place beside the epic as a new form of poetry. What the epic
-portrays, the drama sets forth in living action. This accounts for
-the fact that, even in its later independent development, dramatic
-literature draws its material principally from the epic, or from the
-saga which circulates in folk-tradition as an epic narrative. Moreover,
-as may be noticed particularly in the history of the Greek drama, the
-transition was made but slowly from the individual rhapsodist, who
-sufficed for the rendering of the epic song, to the additional players
-necessary for setting forth the narrative in action.
-
-How essentially uniform this transition is, in spite of widely
-divergent conditions, is illustrated by the origin of the religious
-plays which grew out of the Christian cult. In reading the gospel, the
-priest assigned certain passages, originally spoken by participants
-in the particular event, to sacristans or priests associated in
-the ceremony, and the chorus of worshippers represented the people
-present at the event. In spite of, or, we might better say, because of
-their more recent origin, these Easter, Passion, and Christmas plays
-represent an early stage of development. In them, we can still follow,
-step by step, the growth of dramatic art out of church liturgy, and
-the resultant secularization of the religious play. Heightened emotion
-results in an impulse to translate the inner experience into action,
-and thus dramatic expression is given to certain incidents of the
-sacred narrative that are particularly suited for it. This tendency
-grows, and finally the entire scene is acted out, the congregational
-responses of the liturgy passing over into the chorus of the drama.
-Common to the responses of the congregation and the chorus of the
-dramatic play, is the fact of an active participation in that which
-is transpiring. Though this participation is inner and subjective,
-in the one case, and objective, in the other, the response of the
-congregation to the priest in the liturgy is nevertheless preparatory
-to the chorus of the drama. It is inevitable, however, that this change
-should gradually lead to a break with liturgy. The portrayal of the
-sacred action is transferred from the church to the street; the clergy
-are supplanted by secular players from among the people. Even within
-the sacred walls folk-humour had inserted burlesque episodes--such,
-for example, as the mimic portrayal of Peter's violence to the servant
-Malchus, or the running of the Apostles to the grave of Christ. These
-now gained the upper hand, and finally formed independent mimetic
-comedies. The serious plays, on their part, also drew material, even at
-this time, from sources other than sacred history. The newly awakened
-dramatic impulse received further stimulus from various directions.
-The old travelling comedy, wandering from market to market with its
-exhibitions, now of gruesomely serious, now of keenly humorous,
-action, was a factor in the creation of the modern drama, no less than
-were the amusing performances of the accompanying puppet-show. Added
-to these, as a new factor, was the short novel, a prose narrative
-cultivated with partiality particularly since the Renaissance; there
-was also its elder sister, the imaginary märchen, as well as the epic
-of chivalry in its popular prose versions, and, finally, that which
-more clearly approximates to the religious starting-point, the saint
-legend--all of these united in giving impetus to the modern drama.
-
-Now, the similarity of this development to that of the ancient drama
-is so marked that, even where details are lacking, we may regard the
-nature of the transitions as identical so far as their general features
-are concerned. Indeed, we should doubtless be justified in assuming
-that in whatever other localities a dramatic art was perfected, as, for
-example, in India, the course of development was essentially the same
-as that which has been described. True, the development cannot proceed
-to its termination apart from an advance in cult and poetry such as
-was attained but rarely. Its sources, however, are always to be found
-in universal human characteristics which were operative in the very
-beginnings of art and cult. The two factors upon which the later drama
-depends may be detected even in the corroboree of the Australians.
-The corroboree is a cult dance whose central feature is a regulated
-imitation of the actions of totem animals, accompanied by song and
-noisy music. This imitation of animals also leads to the insertion of
-humorous episodes. Indeed, even in the corroboree, these episodes are
-frequently so numerous as to crowd out completely the cult purpose--an
-early anticipation of the secularization which everywhere took place in
-the art that originated in cult. In numerous other details as well, the
-continuity of development is apparent. Suggestions of the animal dance
-occur in the satyric plays of the Greeks. This same satyric drama took
-over the phallus-bearing choral dancers from the vegetation festival.
-In striking correspondence, as K. Th. Preusz has pointed out, and
-indicative of analogous customs, are the phallephoric representations
-found in ancient Mexican cult pictures. The puppet-show, which was
-perhaps not the least among the factors leading to the secularization
-of the drama, was not only universally to be found during the Middle
-Ages, but in India it made its appearance at an early period. It occurs
-even among peoples of nature, as, for example, among the Esquimos.
-Among these peoples, the doll and its movements always represent
-an imitation of man himself and of his pantomimes. But, though the
-tendencies to dramatic representation and, in part, even the beginnings
-of the drama, reach back to the early stages of art, the developed
-drama was the product of a later period, and was dependent for its rise
-upon almost all the other verbal and mimetic arts. The drama, however,
-may always be traced back to deity cult. The religious hymn which
-extols the deeds of the gods is a direct incentive to the translation
-of these deeds into personal action. The motives for the dramatic
-elaboration of liturgy were present particularly in those deity cults
-which combined soul cults with ideas of a beyond, and which centred
-about the life, the sufferings, and the final salvation of the gods,
-and the transference of these experiences to the human soul. The
-development of the mediæval Easter and Passion plays may be traced,
-step by step, from their origin. It is this development, particularly,
-that throws clear light upon early Greek and Indian drama, whose
-beginnings in the mystery cults are rendered obscure by the secrecy
-of the cults. These latter dramas, in turn, clearly indicate that the
-original source of dramatic representations is to be found in the very
-ancient vegetation ceremonies, which, in part, were transmitted to
-the heroic age from a period as early as that of demon cults. After
-the dramatic performance has been transferred from the temple to the
-market-place and the drama has become secularized, the further course
-of development naturally differs both with the conditions of the age
-and with the character of the culture. Nevertheless, however, the epic
-narrative, the mimetic representation, and the older forms of the song
-may have co-operated in the development of the drama, the latter, like
-the epic, steadily descends from the lofty realms of the heroes and
-gods, down to the dwellings of men. In the portrayal of human strivings
-and sufferings, moreover, the centre of interest shifts from the
-mysterious course of external events to the secrets of the human soul.
-But herewith again the drama transcends the boundaries of the heroic
-age. Its beginnings grow out of early deity cult. In its final stages,
-dramatic art, with its insight into human life as it is directly lived,
-becomes the vehicle of the idea of humanity in the entire scope of its
-meaning, comprehending both the heights and the depths of human life.
-
-Closely bound up with the psychological motives underlying the
-development of the drama is the last of the musical arts--namely,
-_music_. We may refer to it as the last of these arts for the reason
-that it attained to independence later than any of the others. As a
-dependent art, however, accompanying the dance, the song, or the epic
-recital, it dates back to the age of primitive man. Musical art, also,
-received its first noteworthy stimulus from cult, as an accompaniment
-of the cult dance and the cult song. The strong emotions aroused by
-the cult activity caused a constantly increasing emphasis to be placed
-on the musical part of the ceremony, leading particularly to the
-development of melody. The polyphonic song of the many-voiced chorus
-of the cult members, and the music of the accompanying instruments
-which gradually assumed the same character, eventually developed
-into harmonic modulation. This introduced musical effects of a novel
-sort, such as were not possible for the accompaniment of the reciting
-rhapsodist and were attained only imperfectly by the common song.
-Thus, dramatic and musical art both sprang from the same religious
-root, the liturgic ceremonial, thence to pursue different directions
-of development. Later they again united in the case of certain
-particularly emotional parts of the dramatic action, first of all in
-the choral song, which is thus reminiscent of their common origin in
-liturgy. With this exception, however, the emancipation of dramatic
-and of musical art from their common cult origin was succeeded by a
-long period in which they remained distinct. Hence it is certainly not
-without significance that the creator of the modern art-synthesis,
-the music drama, himself felt his achievement to be religious in
-character. Whether or not this may be affirmed as regards the content
-of the music drama, it is true so far as the fact of combining the two
-arts is concerned. But it is no less noteworthy that in this case also
-the separation of itself engenders the motives for the reunion. When
-the drama was transferred from the temple to the public market-place
-and then descended from the sphere of gods and heroes to the reality
-of everyday life, it lost, first its musical-melodic form, and then
-its elevated rhythm, thus giving way to prose. The liturgic song that
-survived in the cult, however, entered into reciprocal relations with
-the secular forms of the song, and a copious interchange of melodic
-motives ensued. With the same justification, perhaps, as in the case
-of the origin of the dramatic play in general, we may interpret the
-older developments by reference to the interchange between sacred and
-secular songs that took place in Christendom during the Middle Ages.
-The endeavour to combine dramatic with lyric and musical enjoyment gave
-rise to hybrid forms of art, to the musical play and the opera. This
-prepared the way for the further attempt to transcend these composite
-forms of art by creating a new unity of drama and music. Thus, the aim
-was to restore the original synthesis on a higher plane, not limited
-to particular religious cults but taking into account universal human
-emotions. Yet the entire development of this later art, as well as that
-of its component elements, the drama and the song, again carries us far
-beyond the limits of the heroic age. It extends over into a period in
-which, on the one hand, man supplants the hero and, on the other, the
-religious advance to a superpersonal god displaces those deities who
-suffer from the defects which they have inherited from their human
-prototypes and their demon ancestors--namely, the personal gods.
-
-Along with the above-mentioned development of musical art there is
-also a second change, which appears on the surface to be antithetical
-to the former, but which in reality supplements it. This change
-consists in the separation of musical expression from the various
-elements with which it was originally connected, and in its entrance
-upon a free and independent development. In the recitative of the
-rhapsodist, in the liturgy of the temple service, in dance and song,
-the rhythmic-melodic elements are, to a certain extent, limited by
-the rhythmic-melodic possibilities of language. In part, it is true,
-they have freed themselves from this limitation--namely, in the
-instrumental accompaniment--and yet they fail to attain to independence
-so long as they are but means for intensifying the expression which
-emotion receives in language and mimicry. From this double bondage to
-the rhythmic-melodic powers of human expressive movements and to the
-thought content of language, musical art finally frees itself. While
-the musical instrument was at first a means designed to assist man in
-his endeavour to give direct expression to his emotions, man's activity
-in the case of 'absolute music' becomes limited to the mastery of
-the instrument itself. This renders available a wealth of new tonal
-possibilities, and adds an inexhaustible supply of new motifs for the
-expression of feelings and emotions. Musical art thus becomes purely
-a language of emotions. Free from connection with specific ideas, it
-in no wise restricts the experiences which the hearer may enjoy. It
-affects these experiences only in so far as the musical production is
-itself a portrayal of pure emotions. Inasmuch as music is not bound by
-concepts or ideas, its effect upon the hearer will be the purer and the
-more intense according as he is the more receptive to the particular
-emotions in question. In the form of the instrumental composition,
-therefore, music is the most subjective of the musical arts, as are
-landscape-painting and its related forms, though not in so pronounced
-a degree, of the plastic arts. Like these arts, and even more so,
-music is the expression of purely subjective feelings. Hence, it, as
-well as they, far transcends the boundaries of the heroic age, whose
-fundamental characteristic is attachment to the objective world. In
-the heroic age, the individual may indeed transfuse the outer world
-with his emotions, but he is never able to isolate his emotions from
-objects. Consequently, though art places its media at his disposal, he
-is unable to utilize them in giving expression, in its independence, to
-the inner life of personality.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER IV
-
-THE DEVELOPMENT TO HUMANITY
-
-
-
-1. THE CONCEPT 'HUMANITY.'
-
-
-The question, Do we live in an enlightened age? was answered by Kant,
-with reference to his own time--which, as is well known, laid claim to
-the distinction--flatly in the negative. He added, however, that the
-age was doubtless one of increasing enlightenment. One might, perhaps,
-be even more justified in raising a similar question with reference
-to the relation of our own and of preceding ages to a universally
-human culture, and in answering: We are on the way to this goal, but
-are still far from having actually reached it. Indeed, in view of
-human imperfection, it may be doubted whether we will ever be able to
-reach it, unless the imperfection itself be included as an element
-in such a culture. The ambiguity of the word 'humanity' is such that
-it may signify human weaknesses as well as human sympathy and other
-virtues. It was in the latter, the more favourable, sense of the term
-that Herder, even in his day, attempted, in his "Ideas," to portray
-the history of mankind as an "education to humanity." This expression
-suggests that history manifests only a ceaseless striving toward true
-humanity; the goal itself lies beyond the reach of possible experience.
-
-Now, a survey of the course of progress described in the preceding
-chapters may well cause us to doubt whether the presupposition
-from which Herder set out in his reflections on the philosophy of
-history is correct. The assumption that factors preparatory to the
-development to humanity are already to be found in the original nature
-of man--indeed, even earlier than this, in the general conditions of
-his natural environment--is not beyond question. Neither primitive
-nor totemic man shows the faintest trace of what we should, strictly
-speaking, call humanity. He gives evidence merely of an attachment to
-the nearest associates of horde or tribe, such as is foreshadowed even
-among animals of social habits. In addition, he exhibits but occasional
-manifestations of a friendly readiness to render assistance when danger
-threatens at the hands of strangers.
-
-It is not until the heroic age that we encounter phenomena such as
-might properly be interpreted to indicate the gradual rise of feelings
-of humanity. But if we take into account the entire character of this
-age, we are more inclined to contrast it, precisely when it reaches its
-zenith, with all that we to-day understand by humanity. Consider, for
-example, the sharply demarcated State organizations of the heroic era,
-its depreciation of strange peoples, and its repudiation of universal
-human ties, brusquely expressed during times of war in its treatment
-of the enemy and, during times of peace, in slavery. The question as
-to whether and in how far the beginnings of our ideas of humanity
-reach back into the past and prevail at lower levels of culture, is
-confronted with a serious difficulty. Conceptions such as these are
-obviously themselves products of a long development and have been
-in constant flux. The concept 'humanity' suffers from an ambiguity
-which has attached to it ever since the time of its origin, and which
-has in no wise diminished as the word has acquired broader meanings.
-The word _humanitas_, which in later classical Latin was practically
-equivalent to our concept 'human nature,' in both its good and its
-bad connotations, acquired an additional meaning in the language of
-mediæval scholars. During this period of strong partiality for abstract
-word formations, the term came to be used also for the collective
-concept 'mankind,' that is, the Roman _genus hominum_--a concept
-independent of value judgments of any sort. Thus, the word passed
-over into our more modern languages with a twofold significance.
-Although the German language developed the two words _Menschlichkeit_
-and _Menschheit_, corresponding to the conceptual distinction just
-indicated, the two meanings were again combined in the foreign word
-_Humanität_. This is exemplified by Herder's phrase, _Erziehung zur
-Humanität_ (education to humanity). For, in using this phrase to sum up
-the meaning of history, Herder meant that the striving which underlies
-all history was not merely for the development of the qualities of
-humanity (_Menschlichkeit_), in the highest sense of the term, but
-also essentially for their gradual extension to the whole of mankind
-(_Menschheit_).
-
-But, whatever our opinion concerning the possible success of such
-striving and concerning the relation of its two phases, there can be
-no doubt that the concept 'humanity,' which has become common property
-among civilized peoples, combines an objective with a subjective
-aspect. On the one hand, 'humanity' means the _whole_ of mankind,
-or, at any rate, a preponderant part of it, such as may be regarded
-as representative of the whole. On the other hand, 'humanity' is a
-value-attribute. It has reference to the complete development of the
-ethical characteristics which differentiate man from the animal, and to
-their expression in the intercourse of individuals and of peoples. This
-latter thought incorporates in the term 'humanity' the meaning both
-of 'mankind' and of 'human nature,' although it ignores the secondary
-implication of human imperfection which 'human nature' involves and
-takes into account only its laudable characteristics. Humanity, when
-predicated of an individual, means that he transcends the limits of
-all more restricted associations, such as family, tribe, or State,
-and possesses an appreciation of human personality as such; in its
-application to human society, it represents a demand for an ideal
-condition in which this appreciation of human worth shall have become
-a universal norm. This ideal, however, is subject to growth, and,
-like all ideals, is never completely realizable. Hence the following
-sketch of the conditions which succeed the age of heroes and gods
-cannot undertake to do more than point to the phenomena that give
-expression to the new motives that dominate this later period. Sharp
-demarcations are in this instance even less possible than in the case
-of the earlier stages of human development. The more comprehensive
-the range of human strivings and activities, the more gradual are the
-transitions and the more fully are the underlying motives--precisely
-because they involve the universally human--foreshadowed in the natural
-predispositions and impulses of man. Tendencies to esteem man as man,
-and a willingness to render him assistance, are not foreign even to
-the primitive mind. Even at the beginnings of human culture there are
-present, dimly conscious, those tendencies out of which the idea of
-humanity may finally develop. Moreover, every later advance seems to
-lead in the direction of this conception. The transition from tribe
-into State, the changing intercourse of peoples, and the spread over
-wide regions of the mental creations of a single people, of language,
-religion, and customs--all these phenomena are obviously steps on the
-way to the idea of humanity and to its permanent incorporation into
-all departments of human endeavour. Neither in its rise nor in its
-further changes, moreover, does this new idea entail the disappearance
-of previous conditions or of the psychical factors involved in their
-development. On the contrary, humanitarian culture takes up into itself
-the creations of preceding eras, und allows them to take firmer root.
-Thus, the idea of a cultural community of peoples has not weakened,
-but, so far as we may conclude from the past course of history, has
-strengthened and enriched, the self-consciousness of separate peoples
-and the significance of the individual State. The dissemination
-of cultural products has not resulted in their decrease. National
-differences have led rather to the increase of these products, and have
-thus enhanced the value attaching to the spiritual distinctiveness of a
-people and of the individual personality. That we may here, even more
-than in the case of the earlier periods of cultural history, speak
-only of _relative_ values, needs scarcely be remarked. Humanitarian
-development includes a vast number of new conditions, in addition to
-those that underlie the preceding stages of culture. Since, moreover,
-the synthesis at which this development aims is everywhere still in
-the process of becoming, the way itself is for the time being the
-attainable goal. We may neither be said to be on the way _to_ humanity,
-if we mean by this a condition in which none but humanitarian interests
-prevail, nor does a humanitarian age, in the sense of the exclusion
-of more restricted human relations, appear at all within the field of
-vision disclosed to us as a result of past history. As a legacy from
-the primitive era, man has permanently retained not only the general
-needs of individual life but also the most restricted forms of family
-and tribal organization. In like manner, it will be impossible for an
-age of humanity ever to dispense with the more limited articulations
-of State and society that have arisen in the course of cultural
-development. Scarcely any general result stands out as more certain, in
-a retrospective survey of our investigations, than the fact that, while
-every period discards as worthless a vast number of products, some of
-which were valuable to an earlier age, there are other products which
-prove to be imperishable. From this point of view, that which precedes
-is not merely preparatory to the further course of development but
-is itself the beginning of the development. The immediate beginning,
-however, is veiled in obscurity. The earlier age is ever unconsciously
-preparing the way for one that is to come. The clan of primitive tribal
-organization had no idea of a coming State, nor had the ancient demon
-worshipper any notion of a cult of rewarding and punishing celestial
-deities, yet State and deity cult could not have arisen except for
-clan and demon-belief. Similarly, the earlier modes of collective life
-possessed the idea of humanity only in the form of a hidden germ. Hence
-we may not properly describe these preparatory stages, which exhibit
-phenomena of a different and, in part, an entirely dissimilar sort, as
-a development to humanity. The term applies rather to an age in which
-the idea of humanity, having come to clear consciousness, exercises
-an influence upon the various phases of culture, and is entertained
-by a sufficiently large portion of mankind to insure its permanent
-effectiveness. But even with this limitation the development may not be
-regarded as one of uninterrupted progress. However widely disseminated
-the humanitarian idea may come to be, there will remain localities and
-levels of culture to which it has not penetrated. But, inasmuch as
-peoples of very different cultural stages enter into relations with
-one another, the possibility is open for such a turn of events as will
-obscure the idea of the development to humanity for long periods. That
-such deviations from the path of progress have frequently occurred in
-the past is certain; that they are never to occur in the future is
-scarcely probable. For this reason one can scarcely hope to do more
-than to show that, in spite of such retrogressions, the development
-to humanity forms a generally connected whole, and that here also
-psychological law is regnant.
-
-That such law prevails is at once evident from the fact that of the two
-conceptions which we have found to be involved in the idea of humanity,
-the _external_ and objective concept expressed by the collective
-term 'mankind' is historically the earlier; the concept referring to
-_inner_ characteristics, and associated in the consciousness of the
-individual with clearly defined value-feelings, follows only gradually.
-We might express this relationship by the phrase, Mankind must
-prepare the way for human nature. This does not imply that isolated
-manifestations of the latter might not long precede the rise of the
-idea of mankind--indeed, must necessarily have preceded it, in so far
-as a predisposition is concerned. It means merely that human nature
-did not, as a matter of fact, attain to its complete development, nor
-was it able to do so, until after the idea of the unity of mankind had
-progressed beyond the stage of vague impulses or of recognition on the
-part of but a few individuals in advance of their age. In other words:
-The collective concept 'mankind,' as representing, not merely a generic
-term created by the intellect, but a real totality ultimately uniting
-all its members in a social whole, preceded the concept 'human nature,'
-as connoting a recognition of universal human rights to which each of
-the members of the human race may lay claim, and of duties which he, in
-turn, owes to human society. The case could not be otherwise. Unless
-the idea of mankind were already present in some form, even though
-this be at the outset inadequate, the requirement that an individual
-give expression to humanitarian sentiments would be impossible, since
-there would be no object of the activity. If we consider the sequence
-of the various phenomena involved in the development to humanity, we
-find a striking agreement between history and the results to which
-our analysis of the concept 'humanity' has led us. The earliest of
-the phenomena here in question dates far back to the beginnings of
-the events known to us through historical monuments, and consists
-in the rise of _world empires_. Though the term 'world empire' is
-sometimes used to refer merely to a great kingdom that results from
-the absorption of a number of separate States, such a use of the word
-does not do justice to its meaning. The idea of world empire really
-comes into existence only at the moment when such a kingdom lays claim
-to embracing the terrestrial part of the universe, and therefore the
-whole of mankind, however much this claim may represent a mere demand
-which has never, of course, actually been realized. The very fact of
-the demand, however, itself involves the conscious idea of a unity
-embracing the whole of mankind. Moreover, the endeavour to realize this
-ambition follows with inner necessity in the case of all political
-organizations that call themselves world empires, particularly at the
-period of their zenith and of an increasing consciousness of power.
-This leads to further important results, which, though at first
-doubtless not consciously sought, nevertheless later increasingly
-become the object of voluntary endeavour. Though externally retaining
-the traditional political organization, the world empire required
-an extension of the institutions of law and of administration that
-had thus far prevailed in the more limited State. A similar change
-gradually took place in connection with intercourse and its fostering
-agencies, and subsequently in connection with language, customs, and
-religious beliefs. Thus, it was the world empire that first prepared
-the way for _world culture_, only meagre beginnings of which existed
-in the period of a more restricted political life. The extension of
-wants and of the means of their satisfaction was first evident in
-the field of commerce, though a similar tendency came more and more
-to prevail in the various departments of mental life. Pre-eminent
-among these interests was the one which is the most universal and
-is based on the most common needs, such as are experienced by all
-members of human society, namely, _religion_. Thus, as one of the
-last of the creations possessing universal human significance, _world
-religion_ makes its appearance. The preceding age did not progress
-beyond national religions. However much the mythological elements of
-cult, in particular, may have travelled from one people to another,
-these elements were assimilated by the national religions. Inasmuch
-as these religions continued, on the whole, to preserve their own
-identities, the fact that any elements were of foreign origin very soon
-disappeared from the folk-consciousness. Not until the period which
-we are now discussing do we find religions that lay claim to being
-universal. Even though this claim may remain a mere demand, just as
-in the case of the world empire, it is precisely as such that every
-historical world religion has asserted its influence. This striving
-for universality is far keener in connection with world religion than
-it is in the case of world empire and world culture. In comparison
-with this endeavour to become universal, the fact that no period ever
-witnessed merely a single world religion is relatively unimportant,
-though not to be overlooked in considering the spiritual needs of
-mankind. Disregarding subordinate religions and such as are of less
-significance for culture as a whole, there are at least _two_ great
-world religions, Christianity and Buddhism. These have asserted
-themselves side by side, and will presumably continue further to
-maintain themselves, inasmuch as they correspond to sharply defined
-characteristics of universal world culture. Finally, world culture and
-the world religions form the basis of _world history_, a third element
-in the collective consciousness of mankind. If we understand by 'world
-history,' not the political or cultural events that simultaneously run
-their independent courses, but the historic consciousness of mankind
-itself, combining the idea of mankind as a unity with that of the
-development of this unity in accordance with law, then world history,
-in this, the only accurate meaning of the term, is the last of all the
-factors involved in the idea of humanity. Since the individual who is
-developing in the direction of the ideal of humanity mirrors all other
-aspects of human nature, world history ultimately becomes for him the
-gradual realization of the idea of humanity. Thus, world empires, world
-culture, world religions, and world history represent the four main
-steps in the development to humanity.
-
-
-
-2. WORLD EMPIRES.
-
-
-Even in the midst of the spiritual forces dominating the heroic age
-there are phenomena that foreshadow a development transcending the
-limits of this period. Of these phenomena, none is more prominent
-than the striving for world dominion. The first battles of early
-political organizations, and the victories over conquered peoples, led
-to an enhanced consciousness of power on the part of the individual
-State. This consciousness found expression, first in strife between
-neighbouring dominions, and later, as soon as one of these had
-gained the supremacy, in the establishment of an empire including
-many separate States. Such an impulse to transcend the limits of the
-single State is so natural and so directly prefigured in the motives
-to individual action that we come upon it wherever any historically
-active political organizations have arisen. In the realms of western
-Asia, such attempts are to be found from the time of the Sumerian and
-Accadian States down to the struggle of Babylon and Assyria for the
-rulership of the world. Egypt had a succession of dynasties which at
-first glance might seem to simulate a unified history, but which in
-reality represents the transference of supreme power from one State or
-city to another, and along with this the growing ambition for a single
-all-embracing dominion. The same phenomenon appears in the struggle of
-the Greek and Latin tribes for hegemony, and also in the foundation of
-the great Persian kingdom of the Achæmenidæ; the latter gave way to the
-world empire of Alexander, which, though of short duration, was never
-again equalled in magnitude; succeeding it, came the world empire of
-the Romans, the last that could properly lay claim to the name.
-
-It is in Egypt, on the one hand, and in the succession of West-Asiatic
-kingdoms, on the other, that the first stages of this development of a
-world kingdom out of the dominance of one powerful State over a number
-of vassal States are clearly exhibited. The struggle for supremacy, in
-which vassal might elevate himself to the position of ruler and lord be
-reduced to vassal, and in which newly immigrant peoples often took a
-decisive part, immeasurably enhanced the striving to extend the sphere
-of dominion. This development reached its culmination when the supreme
-ruler of a power that dominated a very considerable number of vassal
-States expressly asserted the claim of being _ruler of the world_. The
-fact that such a claim was made wherever a supremacy of this sort came
-into existence under conditions of relatively limited intercourse,
-testifies to the immanent necessity of the development. Wherever the
-domain of such an empire approximated the limits of the known world,
-the universal State was conceived as including also the rest of the
-inhabited earth. This conception came to expression in the title which
-the ruler regularly assumed. He laid claim to being the king of kings,
-the overlord of the world, the ruler of the 'four quarters of the
-earth.' Through a reversal of that process of transference by which
-the characteristics of the terrestrial State were carried over, in
-deity cult, to the divine State, the ruler of the terrestrial State now
-himself became a god. This accounts for the surprising uniformity with
-which the idea of a god-monarch arose wherever that of a world monarch
-was developed. In the pre-Babylonian realms of the Euphrates and Tigris
-valleys, the ruler erected his own image, as an object of worship, in
-the temple; in the land of the Pharaohs, the heads of the sphinxes
-placed in front of the temples bore the features of the monarch. Even
-Alexander the Great commanded that the Egyptian priests greet him as
-a son of the god Amon Re; after acquiring the authority of the great
-Persian kings, he demanded from those about him the external signs of
-divine adoration. Similarly, the Roman emperors of the period from
-Diocletian down to Constantine. In spite of their inclination toward
-republican offices and customs, which by their very nature militated
-against such ceremonial, these emperors accepted the idea that the
-world ruler should be worshipped in cult. As the god-idea gained
-increasing power, however, deity cult itself presented a counteracting
-influence to the fusion of the ideas of world ruler and deity. A
-rivalry arose between god and ruler. The king whose omnipotence led
-to his deification repelled the ruler of heaven, and the ruler of
-heaven and earth, on his part, refused to tolerate any rival of earthly
-origin. This led to a temporary compromise in which the ruler, though
-not himself regarded as a deity, was nevertheless held to be the son
-of a god, as well as the agent who executed the divine will. Or, after
-the pattern of hero myths, and in remote resemblance to ancestor
-cult, the ruler was believed to enter into the heaven of gods upon
-his death, so that it came to be only the deceased ruler who received
-divine adoration. The later rulers of Babylon, for example, called
-themselves the sons of Marduk, who was the chief god of Babylonia,
-and the features of this deity were given to the image of Hammurabi.
-The Roman emperors, on the other hand, from the time of Augustus on,
-were accorded divine reverence after death. When the king, realizing
-the exalted character of divine majesty, finally came to feel himself
-entirely human, these practices vanished. The emperor now became either
-the mere representative of the deity or one who was divinely favoured
-above other men. Hence the development terminates in a formula of
-royalty which has even yet not disappeared--the formula, "by the grace
-of God."
-
-The development which we have described progressed continuously
-from beginnings that were almost contemporary with those of States
-until it eventuated in the world State. What, we must now ask, were
-its motivating forces? We cannot ascribe it to a craving for power
-which overmasters the ruler of the single State as soon as he has
-successfully conquered a foreign territory and a foreign people.
-Doubtless this factor was operative, yet it was obviously an effect
-rather than a cause, although an effect which, in the reciprocal
-relations of impulses, itself forthwith became a cause. But the
-immediate and decisive factors that led to the idea of establishing
-a world State, are to be found only partly in the motives underlying
-the extension of the single State into a world State, and in the
-results connected with the attainment of this ambition. These motives
-and results were, in the first instance, of an external nature. They
-consisted in the fact that the world State enjoyed increased means
-of subsistence and power by reason of the tribute which it received
-from subjugated provinces or from vassal States. Tributes of grain
-and cattle, of precious stones and metals, and especially of valuable
-human material, were placed at the command of the Pharaoh, or of the
-Babylonian or Persian monarch, for the building of his canals, his
-temples, and his palaces, for military services, and for an officialdom
-more directly subject to his will than were free-born natives.
-Everything which the single State required for its maintenance was
-demanded in a heightened degree by the world empire. Thus, it was
-the concentration of the means of subsistence and power that led to
-the displacement of the single State by the world empire, just as it
-was the same influence, on a smaller scale, that gave to the State
-its ascendancy over the earlier tribal organization. In extending
-its authority over wider and wider territory, the world empire
-itself finally perished as a result of the increasing difficulty in
-unifying its forces. It either broke up into separate States or a
-similar process of expansion started anew within the same boundaries,
-beginning now with one of the erstwhile vassal States and now with a
-new tribe that migrated into the territory. The first of these changes
-is illustrated by the Babylonian-Assyrian empires; the other, by the
-catastrophes suffered almost contemporaneously by the realm of the
-Pharaohs, through the influx of the Hyksos, and by Babylon, at the
-hands of the conquering hordes of the Hittites. The same phenomena
-recur in the partition of the empire of Alexander the Great and in the
-downfall of the Roman world empire. Unless world empires degenerate
-into a mere semblance of universal dominion, as did the Holy Roman
-Empire, they obviously become the more short-lived in proportion as
-history comes to move the more rapidly. Hence the Napoleonic attempt
-to revive the old idea in a new form became a mere episode. The single
-State finally triumphed over the world empire, and everything goes to
-show that the idea of an all-embracing world empire is little likely to
-recur unless the continuity of history is to be seriously interrupted.
-
-It thus appears that the idea of establishing a world empire is
-not to be accounted for solely in terms of a constant striving to
-augment the means of power. Such endeavour prevails now, no less than
-formerly, in every State that has in any way attained to an independent
-development of its power. At the present time, however, none but at
-most an occasional Utopian dreamer adheres to the idea of creating
-an all-inclusive world State. Even where this occurs the idea is
-completely antithetical to that of earlier times. The ideal which is
-at present proposed for the distant future involves, not the extension
-of any single State into a world State, but rather the dissolution
-of existing States and the establishment of a society of universal
-peace among nations, such as would render entirely superfluous any
-instruments of power on the part of the State itself. But we have
-further evidence that the impulse to increase the means of power
-could not have been the only, nor even the decisive, factor in the
-development of the idea of a world empire. This evidence is to be found
-in the fact that, while a world empire never existed except as an
-idea, the age in which this idea dominated history regarded the world
-empire as a reality. Hence there must have been other motives, of an
-ideal nature, to bridge over the chasm between idea and reality in such
-wise as to identify the former with the latter. Though it is possible
-to urge, in explanation, that the knowledge of the real world was at
-that time limited, this does not solve the problem. Even though the
-Babylonian king might have felt satisfied to call himself the ruler
-over the four quarters of the earth because practically all countries
-of which he had knowledge in the four directions of the wind paid
-tribute to him, this of itself is not adequate to account for the fact
-that he regarded the universality as absolute and not relative. Over
-and above the fact of a limitation of knowledge, there was requisite
-particularly the idea of the _unity of the world_, and the application
-of this idea to the reality given in perception. This idea of unity is
-similar to that of the absolute unity of the world-order whose centre
-is the earth, an idea that dominated the astronomical conceptions of
-antiquity. Both ideas, that of a world empire embracing the whole of
-mankind and that of a universe whose centre is the earth and whose
-boundary is the crystal sphere of the heaven of fixed stars, sprang
-from the same mythological world-view that also found expression in
-the conception of a divine State projected from earth into heaven. To
-these gods, with a supreme deity at their head, belonged the rulership
-of the world. Whenever a change in the city that formed the centre
-of the terrestrial world empire resulted in a new supreme deity,
-the conditions of the earthly kingdom were all the more faithfully
-mirrored in the divine kingdom, for the other gods became, as it
-were, the vassals of this supreme deity. This mythological picture,
-projected from the earth to heaven, was necessarily reflected back
-again to earth. Herein lies the deeper significance of the idea that
-the ruler of the world empire is himself a god, or, at the least, a
-person of divine lineage and the representative of the supreme guardian
-deity of the kingdom. It is precisely because of this connection with
-mythological conceptions that world empires were but transitory. The
-period of their zenith and, more particularly, the period in which
-they possessed a fair degree of stability, coincided absolutely with
-the time at which deity myth was at its height. In the age of a waning
-deity belief, it was only the influence of numerous elements of secular
-culture, combined with a high degree of adaptability to the conditions
-of individual States, such as the Roman mind acquired under the
-conjunction of unusual circumstances, that enabled the idea of a world
-empire to be again carried into realization, within the limits which we
-have set to the term. Proof of the inner connection between the idea
-of a world empire and a mythological conception of the world, is to be
-found even in the case of Diocletian, the last powerful representative
-of the idea of a world kingdom. Diocletian not only invested the Roman
-emperor with the attributes of the Oriental world ruler of ancient
-times, but also claimed for himself the worship due to an earthly
-Jupiter.
-
-
-
-3. WORLD CULTURE.
-
-
-Inasmuch as the world empire belongs essentially to the age of deity
-cults, it is not so much a realization of the idea of humanity as a
-preparation for it, presaging a development beyond that of the single
-State. That this is the case manifests itself even in the temporal
-sequence of the phenomena. For it is at most anticipatory elements of
-the idea of humanity that are embodied in the world empire. With the
-disintegration of world empires, however, partly as their after-effect
-and partly as the result of their dissolution, we find phenomena of
-a new sort--those comprehended under the term _world culture_. In
-so far as the rise of world empire involves factors that lead to
-world culture, these affect primarily the material aspect of the
-life of peoples--world intercourse, the resulting multiplication of
-needs on the part of peoples, and the exchange of the means for the
-satisfaction of these needs. The spiritual phases of culture, which
-outlast these external and material phases, make their appearance
-more particularly at the time when the world empire is approaching
-its end. Since, however, it is these spiritual phases that are of
-predominant significance, world culture as a whole is to be regarded as
-an after-effect of world empire rather than as a direct result toward
-which the latter has contributed. The reason for this is not far to
-seek. It lies in the one-sided striving for the acquisition of external
-means of power, and in the consequent despotic pressure which the
-world empire, particularly in ancient times, brought to bear upon its
-separate members. It is also connected, however, with the fact that the
-dissolution of world empires usually brings in its wake migrations and
-a shifting of peoples. Even within the culture of the ancient Orient,
-the spread of the elements of myth and saga, as well as of the products
-of art and science, came especially with the destruction of earlier
-world empires and the reconstruction of others. The empire of Alexander
-the Great led to what was perhaps the greatest epoch of world culture
-in the history of civilization, yet the latter was conditioned, not so
-much directly by this empire, as by its disintegration at the time of
-the Diadochi. Similarly, the downfall of the last world empire that
-may properly lay claim to the name--the Græco-Roman kingdom--likewise
-resulted in a great cultural movement, due in part to the shifting of
-peoples which took place at this time, though more especially to the
-spread of Christianity. Here, again, the fact that the world empire
-was preparatory to world culture is substantiated. For the dying world
-empire employed even the last powers over which, in its final agony,
-it still had control, to pave the way for the world religion that was
-taking its rise.
-
-Nevertheless, as a result of the tremendous resources which, in the
-beginnings of a higher civilization, were possessed by the world empire
-alone, there was _one_ field in which the period of such empires was
-directly creative and in which it set an example to future ages. I
-refer to the technique of mass and to the monumental art connected
-with it. The streets, viaducts, and magnificent edifices of the period
-of the Roman emperors have long aroused the wonder and admiration of
-later generations, as monuments of a power that had unlimited means at
-its command. The constructions of the Egyptian, Babylonian-Assyrian,
-and Persian world empires lacked the artistic execution which the
-influence of Greek art made possible to the constructions of the
-Romans. We have now come to know, however, that the former were not
-surpassed by the latter in the immensity which resulted from the
-consciousness, on the part of the builders, that they had countless
-human forces at their disposal. The canals and roadways of the Egyptian
-and Babylonian monarchs, moreover, also give clear evidence that the
-needs of agriculture and commerce were provided for in a way that would
-have been impossible, in these early stages of world culture, except
-through the resources at the command of a world State. The extension
-of intercourse resulting from world empire is to be regarded as at
-least a partial factor in the transition to the institution of money.
-It exercised an influence also toward the development of a system of
-writing, whose purpose it was to communicate the decrees of government
-to officials and vassals, and to preserve a record of the deeds of
-rulers and of the laws enacted by them. In this wise, the material
-aspects of world culture exerted an influence upon the mental aspects,
-whose direct expressions are speech and writing.
-
-As regards the relation of speech and writing, the two fundamental
-elements of all culture, the culture of individuals and world culture
-show an important difference. In the culture of individuals, of course,
-speech long precedes writing, verbal expression being crystallized
-into writing only after a relatively high level of culture has been
-attained. In world culture, on the other hand, writing paved the way
-for verbal intercourse. The reason for this difference lies in the
-fact that speech is a natural product of the direct intercourse of
-individuals who are sharing a common life. Writing, however, is an
-invention by which individuals seek to disseminate and to preserve the
-ideas embodied in speech far beyond the spacial and temporal bounds
-that limit oral communication. Hence, communication in writing is
-the first step from folk culture to world culture. The simplicity of
-the characters which it employs enables it to pass from one people
-to another and from one generation to the next even more readily
-than does the speech of commerce. For though the latter is of a more
-universal character than the many separate mother tongues, it asserts
-itself only with difficulty in competition with them. The history of
-cuneiform writing is especially instructive as regards the point under
-present discussion. The Semitic people, whose migration to Babylonia
-succeeded that of the Sumerians, lost all knowledge of the Sumerian
-language, but they preserved the written texts as sacred. In the course
-of folk migrations, cuneiform writing likewise penetrated to the coast
-regions of Asia Minor, although in this instance it was continually
-used to express new idioms not to be found in the land of its origin.
-Letters have been found representing a correspondence between certain
-Babylonian kings and Egyptian Pharaohs, and dating from the fifteenth
-century before Christ. These letters, called Tel-el-Amarna letters
-after the place of their discovery, are a remarkable testimony to the
-fact that the demands of commerce gradually cause speech to follow in
-the wake of writing, even though the means which the Babylonian employs
-to make his cuneiform writing intelligible indicates that his Egyptian
-correspondent possessed only a slight acquaintance with the Babylonian
-language.
-
-It was not until a much later time that any language of intercourse
-and literature became sufficiently widespread to be called a world
-language, even in that relative sense which attaches to all universal
-terms of this sort. This occurred, in the case of the _Greek_
-language, under the rule of the Diadochi. In this instance, again,
-the first advance in the direction of world culture followed, in the
-main, upon world empire. For, though we must admit that the empire of
-Alexander was of altogether too brief a duration for such a purpose, it
-is nevertheless true that it witnessed only the beginnings of a world
-dominance of Greek language and culture. Taking into account the narrow
-limits of the cultural world of that period of history, there has been
-no age since that of the Diadochi concerning which we would be prepared
-to say that it attained to so widespread a dissemination of a uniform
-culture. The striving beyond a national to a world culture which
-took place at that time was, of course, the fruition of far earlier
-tendencies. The fact that the Greek colonies retained the language and
-customs of the mother country was itself a preparatory step. Following
-the train of colonists were individual travellers, whose desire for
-knowledge led them beyond the regions where the Greek language was
-known. Even in that early day, Pythagoras and Xenophanes, Herodotus and
-Xenophon, Democritus and Plato made extensive travels throughout the
-lands bordering on the Mediterranean. Alexander's expedition to India,
-a country which had up to that time been regarded as a marvellous
-fairyland, marked the culmination of the journeys to remote regions
-which had, at the outset, been undertaken by individuals. Nevertheless,
-the spread of the impulse to wander remains of primary significance for
-the Hellenistic period. The warrior, the tradesman, and the physician
-share this impulse with the scholar and the artist. In the age of
-tribal organization, it was the tribe or clan that travelled to distant
-places, its object being to escape the pressure of want and the need
-threatened by the exhaustion of the hunting-grounds or the soil; in the
-heroic age, it was the people as a whole who left their homes, either
-because they were crowded out by enemies or because they were eager to
-assert their power by establishing cities and States; in the age under
-present consideration, it is the individual who is seized with the
-longing for travel, his purpose being to find elsewhere more favourable
-opportunities for the exercise of his vocation, or, perhaps, to see the
-world, and thus to enlarge his field of experience and his knowledge.
-The large and rapidly growing cities that spring up into centres of
-the new world culture attract the people of all lands, as do also the
-ancient and far-famed seats of intellectual culture. In Alexandria,
-Pergamus, Athens, and, finally, in Rome, there mingle representatives
-of all races--of the Greek, Egyptian, Syrian, Persian, and Italic
-peoples. Greek is the language of common intercourse. Alexandria,
-however, gradually displaces Athens as the chief seat of science. The
-latter comes to be fostered, not by Greeks, but, in large part, by
-individuals of other nationalities, particularly those of the Orient.
-
-This new world culture possesses two distinctive characteristics.
-The first of these consists in a growing indifference to the State
-as such. The second, antithetical to the former and yet most closely
-related to it, is a high appreciation of the individual personality,
-connected with which is a tendency on the part of the individual to
-develop his own personality and to assert his rights. That which the
-public values undergoes a change. The emphasis shifts, on the one
-hand, from the State to a culture which is universally human, and
-thus independent of State boundaries; it passes, on the other hand,
-from political interests, in part, to the individual personality and,
-in part, to universal spiritual development. Thus, world culture is
-at once cosmopolitan and individualistic. As respects both these
-characteristics, however, the interest in humanity finds expression
-in a transcendence of the limits of a single people. Here, again,
-preparatory stages will be found far back in Greek culture. As early
-as the time of the Sophists, individuals, wandering from city to
-city as travelling teachers, proclaim the spirit of personal freedom
-and the dependence of all social institutions and ties upon the will
-of the individual. When we come to the Epicurean and Stoic schools,
-which reach over into the period of early world culture, the idea of
-humanity in both its aspects receives its classic expression, though
-with differing emphases, conditioned by the ethical and religious
-needs as a whole. Similar conditions prevail in the positive sciences.
-In natural science, which reached its first classical development in
-the Alexandrian period, an interest in universal natural laws, as
-discovered in astronomy and mechanics, occurs side by side with an
-absorption in descriptive observations of the most detailed sort.
-History fluctuates between attempts at an abstract schematization
-of the epochs of political development, after the pattern of the
-Aristotelian classification of the forms of the State, and biographical
-accounts of dominating personalities and their deeds. Similarly,
-philology combines the grammatical disputes of the Peripatetic
-and Stoic schools--disputes as yet unfruitful in their abstract
-generalities--with that minute pursuit of literary studies which has
-since given the period the discreditable name of 'Alexandrianism.'
-Art also manifests this _coincidentia oppositorum_. The monumental
-edifices of this epoch exhibit a tendency toward the colossal, whereas
-sculpture is characterized by a painstaking and individualizing art
-of portraiture; the drama portraying the pompous action of ruler and
-State, appears alongside of the play of civic intrigue and the mime.
-
-As the result both of inner dissolution and of the aggression of new
-peoples who were just entering upon their political development,
-Hellenistic world culture underwent disintegration. It first split up
-into Greek and Roman divisions, in correspondence with the partition
-of the Roman world empire and that of the Christian Church connected
-with it. Except the fact of the separation itself, nothing shows more
-significantly how far both divisions were from possessing a world
-culture than does the decline of that indispensable means of common
-culture, language. The West preserved meagre remnants of the Latin
-civilization, the East, fragments of the Greek civilization. In the
-course of the centuries, the clergy of the West developed a class
-of scholars who were out of sympathy with the prevailing tendencies
-toward national culture. In the East, the barbarian nations, which
-the Church barely succeeded in holding together, exercised a benumbing
-influence upon culture; cultural activity, therefore, sank into
-a dull lethargy. The ancient world empires, whose last brilliant
-example, the monarchy of Alexander, had formed the transition to the
-first great world culture, gave place, at this later time, to _world
-religion_. As the result of struggles which, though long, were assured
-of ultimate success, world religion subjected the political powers to
-its authority. Destined, in the belief of peoples, to be imperishable,
-this religion outlived the changing forms of the secular State, and
-was the only remaining vehicle of world culture, fragmentary as this
-may have been. But the inner dissolution to which the last of the
-great world empires, that of Rome, succumbed, overpowered also the
-Church as soon as the latter endeavoured to become a new world State
-and insisted on the duty of believers to render obedience to it. When
-this occurred, the world culture fostered by it necessarily proved too
-weak to assimilate the new tendencies which were beginning to manifest
-themselves. Conditions were ripe for the striving to achieve a new
-culture. In contrast with the ideal of the Church, this culture was
-concerned with the actual world, and therefore felt itself related
-to the cultural idea of antiquity. Thus arose the culture of the
-Renaissance. In it, we again have a world culture in the true sense
-of the word, even though it was shared, at the outset, only by the
-ambitious and the educated, as had, indeed, also essentially been the
-case with its prototype.
-
-The culture of the Renaissance formulated its ideal by reference both
-to the past and to the future. It sought to revive the world culture of
-the Græco-Roman period, but yet to give to the latter a content suited
-to the spirit of the new age and to the tasks awaiting it. Hence the
-Renaissance was not merely a rebirth, as its name might suggest, but
-a new world culture. Though possessing many traits in common with the
-older culture of Hellenism, it bore, in an even greater measure, its
-own peculiar stamp. The most noteworthy feature common to the two was
-their combination of universalism and individualism--a feature that
-is, perhaps, characteristic of world culture as such. Apparently both
-universalism and individualism become more prominent with the course of
-time. During the period of the Renaissance, the cultivation--one might
-almost say the cult--of the individual personality probably reached
-the highest point that it had as yet attained. The human monster, who
-violated without compunction all laws of propriety and custom, and
-the ascetic zealot, who sacrificed himself for a visionary ideal,
-could both alike arouse admiration because of the uniqueness of their
-characters. Along with this emphasis of individual personality, there
-flourished social ideals of a religious and a political nature. It was
-under this influence that the reformation of the church began its work
-and that new political theories and Utopian accounts of a happy future
-for the human race made their appearance. In still another respect
-does the age of the Renaissance appear to be a genuine revival, in an
-enlarged world, of the Hellenistic period. Again the individual is
-overpowered by the impulse to travel, and, as a consequence, the age of
-great geographical discoveries is inaugurated. The voyages of the great
-discoverers--of Columbus, Vasco da Gama, and Magellan--were the result,
-for the most part, of personal initiative. And, though other motives
-may have lurked in the background, the discoverers themselves were
-chiefly inspired by that desire to wander which, more than a century
-earlier, had led the Venetian Marco Polo to travel alone in the distant
-lands of eastern Asia.
-
-But, in certain essential particulars, the later period of world
-culture possessed a character all its own. The basis of culture was
-no longer a world State, but a world Church. No longer, moreover, was
-there an indifference to the State, as had been so generally the case
-in Hellenistic times. A heightened political interest was everywhere
-beginning to be manifest. That which long continued to give this period
-its unique stamp was the struggle between State and Church. The social
-impulses tended in the direction of a new political order, and to a
-certain extent, even at this time, toward a social reconstruction.
-The world culture of this period, moreover, sustained a completely
-altered relation to language, that universal vehicle both of mental
-life and of the material culture which grows up out of the intercourse
-of peoples. It was not a world language, such as results naturally
-from the authority of a world empire, that constituted the basis of
-the new cultural unity. On the contrary, the latter was dependent
-upon a multiplicity of languages, which gave expression to the mental
-individuality of peoples just as did the national States to the
-diversity of particular political and social interests. The influence
-of more extensive educational activities made itself felt. The forms of
-commerce and of the interchange of the mental products of nations were
-manifold, yet education rendered the means of material and intellectual
-intercourse common property so far as this was possible and necessary.
-Thus, world culture itself acquired a new foundation. A world language
-must of necessity be an active and a living language, and, in view of
-the fact that all social institutions are historically conditioned,
-it can attain its supremacy only through the influence of a world
-empire. Hence every world culture whose basis is a unity of language,
-in the sense of a world language, is doomed to be transitory. Fragments
-of such a culture may survive, but it itself must perish along with
-the language by which it is sustained and, more remotely, with the
-political power by which the language is upheld. All this is changed
-as soon as world culture is established on the basis of a multiplicity
-of national tongues as well as of national States. Then, for the first
-time, may world culture become more than merely an occasional epoch
-of history; thenceforth it may enjoy a permanent development. With
-this in mind, one may say that the period of the Renaissance laid
-the foundation for a new form of world culture, whose characteristic
-feature is that combination of humanistic and national endeavour which
-is still prevalent throughout the civilized world.
-
-
-
-4. WORLD RELIGIONS.
-
-
-One of the most significant marks of the heroic age is the existence of
-national religions. Just as each race possesses its own heroes, so also
-does it have its own gods, who are reverenced as its protectors in wars
-with foreign peoples. True, gods and their cults may occasionally pass
-over from one people to another. Wherever there is an assimilation of
-foreign cults, however, all traces of origin disappear; the gods who
-are taken over from other peoples are added to the company of native
-gods, and enrich the national pantheon. So far as these conditions are
-concerned, world empires bring few changes. At most, they expressly
-subordinate the gods of conquered lands to the god of the ruling city,
-and thus prepare for the idea of an all-comprehensive divine State
-corresponding to the universal terrestrial State. The decisive step in
-the completion of this development is taken only under the influence of
-the world culture that grows up out of the world empire. The special
-national deities that represent the particular interests of individual
-peoples then inevitably recede in favour of gods and cults sustained
-by universal human needs, in which case the cults are, on the whole,
-identical, even though the deities bear different names.
-
-It is of importance to note the motives that led to the first steps
-toward the realization of a universal human religion. They were
-identical with the very earliest incentives to religion, such as
-prevailed among all peoples on the very threshold of the belief in
-demons and gods. For, after the disappearance of political interests,
-to which the national gods owed their supremacy, it was again _two_
-experiences that occupied the foreground--_sickness_ and _death_.
-During the period of Hellenistic world culture, the occupation of the
-physician was held in especial esteem. Connected with this was the
-fact that the cult of Æsculapius, the god of healing, grew from small
-beginnings into a cult whose influence extended over distant lands.
-Even more marked was the increase in the influence of those cults that
-centred about a world after death and the individual's preparation
-for it. The origin of these cults was connected both with the needs of
-this life and with the desire for endless joy in the beyond. In view
-of their identical development, how could it have escaped notice that,
-whatever formal differences there might be, the Grecian Demeter, the
-Phrygian Cybele, and the Phoenician Astarte were alike in nature? Even
-more than was the case with the Greek mysteries, these Oriental cults
-carried over into the cults of the beyond, into which they developed,
-certain ecstatic and orgiastic elements of ancient vegetation cults.
-All the more readily, therefore, were the latter cults incorporated
-into the deity cults, inasmuch as these had as their concern the
-satisfaction of human needs generally. But conditions were ripe for a
-still further advance. As has been suggested, the national and State
-interests which fettered man to the actual world of his environment
-gave way to interests transcending this world. In proportion as this
-occurred, however, did the life of the present, deprived of its former
-values, relinquish all cherished desires in favour of that heavenly
-world possible to all men regardless of class, calling, or nationality.
-This change was antithetical to the innate fear of death, and yet
-was its own final product. All these cults thus became _redemption
-cults_. To be redeemed from the evil of the world--the desire of
-deeper religious minds--or, after the enjoyment of the good things
-of this life, to receive still greater happiness after death--a hope
-doubtless entertained by the majority then as now--such was the primary
-object of the cults of these supranational gods. National cults had
-fashioned the gods in the image of man, even though exalting them with
-all the power of the mythological imagination into the superhuman and
-the unapproachable. At this later period, all efforts were directed
-toward bringing these anthropomorphic gods nearer to man as regards
-the activities in which they engaged, and particularly as regards the
-experiences which they underwent. No figure in the later Greek pantheon
-better lent itself to such a purpose than did Dionysos. Like the female
-deities representing Mother Earth, this male deity originated in the
-ancient field and fertility cults. Later, however, he became more and
-more transformed by legend into the ideal of a striving and suffering
-deity, who, after a horrible death, arose to new glory. Related
-to Dionysos were other deities who likewise became supreme in the
-Hellenistic age--Mithra, Attis, Osiris, and Serapis. All of these were
-gods who had been redeemed from pain and anguish, and were therefore
-capable, in their sympathy, of redeeming man.
-
-In its beginnings, Christianity also was one of these religions of
-redemption. Over five hundred years before its rise, moreover, there
-had already appeared in the Far East a religion in which the same
-thought occupied the foreground. I refer to Buddhism. With reference
-to the steps by which Buddhism attained its supremacy, our only data
-are the controversies of the philosophical schools that participated in
-the development. These controversies make it probable that the basal
-motives involved were similar to those that were later operative in the
-cultural world of the Occident. There were also essential differences,
-however, traceable to the fact that the various Brahmanic systems had
-a common religious substratum, and that Hindoo thought had attained
-to a fairly advanced stage of philosophical development. One fact is
-doubtless universal--the appearance of a redemptive religion marks the
-decadence of an old and the rise of a new period of culture. Beginning
-with the Hellenistic period, therefore, and continuing with increased
-strength during the Roman world empire, there was a transition from a
-national to a humanistic culture. World religion was a more decisive
-indication of this crisis than were any of the other elements of
-world culture, or than was even world empire, which prepared the way
-for world culture. The old gods could no longer satisfy the new age,
-unless, at any rate, they underwent marked transformations. The age
-required new gods, in whom national traits were secondary, as they were
-in life itself, and universal human characteristics were supreme. It
-was particularly the unique worth of the individual human personality,
-without regard to birth, class, and occupation, which this period
-of transition from the national to the humanistic ideal emphasized.
-Hence the obstacles which the surrounding world placed in the way of
-personal endeavour were inevitably felt the more deeply in proportion
-as the values of the narrower community life disappeared. A change in
-mood took place within the consciousness of the age, as it so often
-does within that of the individual, and this change was enhanced by
-the contrast of emotions. The world lost the values which it had thus
-far held, and became a place of evil and suffering. In contrast with
-it, there loomed up a yonder world in which the desired ideals were
-believed to meet fulfilment. This mood, of course, did not continue
-permanently. World religion was of inner necessity forced to adapt
-itself to the earthly life in proportion as State and society again
-acquired a more fixed organization. But, just as the strata of the
-earth's crust retain the effects of a geological catastrophe long after
-it has passed, so spiritual life continues to exhibit the influence of
-upheavals that have occurred in the transitions from age to age, even
-though the spiritual values themselves have undergone many changes. In
-this respect, world religion manifests a conserving power greater than
-that of any other product of mental life.
-
-There are only _two_ world religions, in the strictest sense of the
-term, _Buddhism_ and _Christianity_. Confucianism, which might perhaps
-be included so far as the number of its adherents is concerned, is a
-system of ethical teachings rather than a religion. Hence, when we take
-into account the vast number of Chinese peoples, Confucianism will be
-found to embody a great number of different religious developments,
-the most important of which are the ancient ancestor cult and
-Buddhism, the latter of which penetrated into China from elsewhere.
-The faith of Islam is a combination of Jewish and Christian ideas with
-ancient Arabian and Turanian traditions. As such, it has brilliantly
-fulfilled the mission of bringing a cultural religion to barbarian
-or semi-barbarian peoples, but it cannot be credited with being an
-original religious creation. Judaism finally formed a supremely
-important element of Christianity, one whose influence would appear
-to have been absolutely indispensable. In itself, however, it is not a
-world religion, but is one of those vanquished cults which struggled
-for supremacy in the pre-Constantinian period of the Roman world empire.
-
-But what, let us ask, were the powerful forces that gave these two
-great world religions their supremacy? Surely it was not merely their
-inner superiority, though this be in no way disputed. Nor was it simply
-propitious external circumstances, such, for example, as the fact that
-Constantine made Christianity the State religion. Doubtless there were
-a great number of co-operating factors, foremost among them being the
-desire for a purely humanistic religion, independent of nationality
-or external position in life. And yet this also could not have been
-of decisive significance--precisely such a longing was more or less
-characteristic of all the religious tendencies of this transitional
-period. Moreover, this leaves unexplained the peculiarities of each
-of the two great world religions. These are in complete accord as
-regards their universal, humanistic tendency, but are just as different
-in content as is a Buddhistic pagoda from a Gothic cathedral. As a
-matter of fact, these world religions are also cultural religions.
-Back of each of them is a rich culture, with characteristics peculiar
-to itself, even though its basal elements are universally human. Hence
-it is that these two world religions are not merely expressions of a
-striving for a universally valid religious and moral ideal, in the
-sense in which such a striving is common to mankind as a whole; it
-should rather be emphasized that they reflect the essentially different
-forms which this striving has assumed within humanity. Buddhism, in
-its fundamental views, represents the highest expression to which the
-religious feeling of the Orient has attained, while Christianity, as
-a result of the conditions which determined its spread, has become
-the embodiment of the religious thought of the Occidental world. To
-appreciate this fact we must not allow our minds to be diverted to
-the tangled profusion of beliefs in magic and demons which Buddhism
-exhibits, nor to the traditional and, in part, ambiguous sayings of
-the great ascetic himself. If we would discover the parallels between
-Buddhism and Christianity, we must hold ourselves primarily to the
-ideas that have remained potent within the religion of Buddha. True,
-the worlds which these religions disclose to our view differ, yet in
-neither case had religious feeling up to that time received so exalted
-an expression. In Buddhism, as in original Christianity, human life
-is regarded as a suffering, and this underlies both the irresistible
-impulse to asceticism and repentance, and the hope for unclouded bliss
-in the future. The Christian of the primitive church looks forward to
-the speedy return of Christ, and to His inauguration of an eternal,
-heavenly kingdom. In contrast with this, it is as a prolonged migration
-through animal bodies, alternating with rebirth in human form, that the
-Hindoo thinker conceives that great process of purification by means of
-which sense is finally to be entirely overcome and man is to partake
-of an undimmed knowledge of the truth, and, with this, of supreme and
-never-ending bliss. This is the true Nirvana of Buddha. Nirvana does
-not represent the nothingness of eternal oblivion, but an eternal
-rest of the soul in pure knowledge, a peace which puts an end to all
-striving, just as does the heaven for which the Christian hopes. The
-difference between Nirvana and the Christian heaven is merely that, in
-the one case, the emphasis falls on knowledge, whereas, in the other,
-it is placed on feeling. This distinction, however, is not absolute.
-Buddha, also, preaches love of one's neighbour--indeed, sympathy
-with every suffering creature; and the Christian, as well as the
-Buddhist, seeks the knowledge of God. Moreover, ideas of purification
-are necessarily involved in redemptive religions, and hence are to be
-found in Christianity no less than in the world religion of the Orient,
-though in a different form. The Occidental Christian, swayed by his
-prompter emotions, images in the most vivid colours the agonies of
-the damned and the purification of the sinners in need of redemption.
-The patient and peace-seeking Oriental entertains the conception of
-a prolonged suffering that leads gradually, through the light of
-knowledge, from the debasement of animal existence to a state of
-redemption.
-
-A further feature which differentiates these kindred religious
-developments is their relation to the contemporary philosophy which
-affected them. Buddhism grew out of philosophy, and then became a folk
-religion. In its spread, it became transformed from an esoteric into
-an exoteric teaching, continually absorbing older elements of folk
-belief. Its ethical basis never entirely disappeared, yet it became
-more and more obscured by a multitude of miracle-legends and magical
-ideas. Christianity, on the other hand, began as a folk religion and,
-in so far, as an exoteric teaching. But, in entering into the strife
-of religions and into the controversies of the thought-systems of the
-Hellenistic-Roman period, Christianity passed under the control of
-philosophy. Precisely because it lay outside the realm of philosophy,
-it was subjected to the influence of the various schools, though it
-was most decisively affected by Platonism and Stoicism. Inasmuch as
-philosophy itself had its setting in a superstitious age, it was the
-less able to purify Christianity from the belief in demons, miracles,
-and magic which the latter, as a folk religion, embodied from the very
-outset. Nevertheless, philosophical thought supplemented the real
-meaning of religious statements with an idealized interpretation.
-This gave birth to dogma, which consisted of a peculiar combination
-of esoteric and exoteric elements, and for this very reason assumed
-a mystical character. Hence it is that Buddhism, which sprang from
-philosophy, never possessed any real dogmas in the sense of binding
-norms of faith, whereas Christianity, which originated as a folk
-religion, fell a prey in its dogmatization to a theology which
-prescribed the content of belief.
-
-These two world religions, which dominate the main centres of spiritual
-culture, do not, surely, owe their supremacy over other religious cults
-to the external conditions of their origin. Indeed, these conditions
-differ in the two cases. To account for the pre-eminence of the two
-religions we must look to the religious and moral nucleus which they
-possess in the sayings and teachings as well, also, as in the ideal
-lives of their founders. In spite of all differences, there is a
-similarity of character between the prince who wandered about as a
-beggar, preaching to the peoples the salvation which pure knowledge
-brings to him who renounces all external goods of life, and the man
-of the common people who pronounced blessings on the poor and the
-suffering because they are prepared above others to find the way to
-heaven. Another remarkable coincidence is the fact that the religious
-communities which they inspired sought to deprive them of the very
-characteristic which opens human hearts to them; they were real persons
-who lived and to whose deeds and sufferings their contemporaries bore
-testimony. What, as compared with them, are the redeeming gods in the
-pantheon of the various nations--Dionysos, Mithra, Osiris, or even
-Serapis, whose worship was established by the Ptolemies under the
-driving power of ideas of extensive political authority? The need of a
-living god whose existence was historically attested led irresistibly
-to the elevation of the man into a god. Thus, though in an entirely
-different world-setting and with a completely changed hero-personality,
-the process through which deities were created at the beginning of
-the heroic age was repeated. At this later period, however, it was
-not the universal type of idealized manhood that was regarded as the
-incarnate deity, but a single ideal personality. This purely human
-deity was no longer bound by national ties; he was not a guardian of
-the State and a helper in strife with other peoples, but a god of
-mankind. For every individual he was both an ideal and a helper, a
-saviour from the imperfections and limitations of earthly life. With
-this process of deification, the religions whose central object of cult
-was the suffering individual who secures for himself and for mankind
-redemption from suffering, opened their doors also to the gods and
-demons of earlier ages. Thus, there penetrated into Buddhism the Hindoo
-pantheon, together with the beliefs in magic and spirits which were
-entertained by the peoples converted to Buddhism. The Christian Church
-did not finally supersede the earlier heathen folk belief until it had
-assimilated the latter in the conceptions of demons and the devil, in
-the cult of saints, and in the worship of relics, the last-mentioned of
-which also constituted an important element of Buddhism.
-
-In the case of Christianity, there was still another factor which
-prepared the soil for the new religion. This factor was due either to
-a direct transference or, as is probable so far as the main outlines
-of the history of the passion are concerned, to the real similarity
-of this event with the legends, prevalent in all parts of the earth,
-of the death and resurrection of a deity. Such legends everywhere
-grew up out of vegetation cults, which date back to the beginnings
-of agriculture. The hopes centred about a world beyond caused the
-cults based on these ideas to incorporate the soul cults. The latter
-then displaced the original motives of vegetation cults. In this
-way, higher forms of soul cult were developed, as exemplified by the
-ancient mysteries and by the related secret cults of other peoples.
-The exclusive aim now came to be the attainment of salvation from the
-earthly into a heavenly world. It was thought that this goal would be
-the more certain of attainment if, yielding to the old association of
-the mystical and secret with the magical and miraculous, the circle of
-initiated cult companions were narrowly limited. But how different is
-the form which this very ancient legend of a god who suffers, dies, and
-rises again assumes in the suffering and death of Christ! Jesus was
-a real person, whose death on the cross many had witnessed and whose
-resurrection his disciples had reported. Moreover, the cult of this
-crucified Saviour was not enveloped in a veil of secrecy. The redeeming
-god did not wish to win heaven merely for a few who had gained the
-privilege through magical ceremonies. The Christian heaven was open
-to all, to rich and poor, though especially to the poor, who were to
-receive in the beyond a rich compensation for the good things denied
-them upon earth. It is but natural that this new cult, with its vastly
-deeper and more vital significance, and with the strength which it
-nevertheless continued to draw from the old traditional legends, won
-for itself the allegiance of the new world with its strivings for a
-greater security in life as in death. Even some of the Roman soldiers,
-coming from their Saturnalian or Sacæan festivals, may, perhaps, have
-felt strangely moved upon seeing re-enacted, as a terrible reality,
-that which in their country was a playful custom, representing a
-survival of a once serious cult and ending in the mimic death of the
-carnival king. It was obviously in recollection of these very prevalent
-festivals that the coarser members of the crowd gave to him who was
-crucified the name "King of the Jews." The appellation was exactly
-suited to heighten the contrast between the joyous tumult of such mimic
-cults and this murderous reality.
-
-The above scene was prophetic of the entire subsequent development of
-the new religion. That Christianity became a world religion was not
-due merely to the depth and sublimity of its spirit--these were hidden
-under a cover of mythological elements, from which Christianity was
-not free any more than were other religions. Christianity gained its
-supremacy, just as did Buddhism, in its own way, through a capacity to
-assimilate auxiliary mythological conceptions to an extent scarcely
-equalled by any of the previous religions. The very fact that the
-latter were national religions precluded them, to a certain extent,
-from incorporating alien ideas. It was not only mediæval Christianity
-that took over a large part of the earlier belief of heathen peoples.
-Even present-day Christianity might doubtless be called a world
-religion in this sense, among others, that, in the various forms of
-its beliefs and professions, it includes within itself, side by side,
-the most diverse stages of religious development, from a monotheism
-free from all mythological elements down to a motley collection of
-polytheistic beliefs, including survivals of primitive ideas of magic
-and demons.
-
-But there is another phenomenon in which the spirit of Christianity
-comes to expression even more significantly than in its capacity to
-adapt itself to the most diverse stages of religious development. Here,
-again, there is a similarity between Christianity and the other great
-world religion, Buddhism. The belief of Hindoo antiquity in a populous
-heaven of gods was very early displaced, in the priestly wisdom of
-India, by the idea of "the eternal, unchangeable" Brahma. We here
-have an abstract deity-idea from which every trace of personality has
-disappeared. It was under the influence of this priestly philosophy
-that Buddha grew up, and his esoteric teaching, therefore, did not
-include a belief in a personal deity. Meanwhile, the ancient gods had
-continued to maintain their place in popular belief, though their
-original character was obscured by rankly flourishing ideas of magic
-and demons. This state of affairs was due to the fact that there was
-no longer a supreme deity who could give to mythology a religious
-basis. In the religious movement which began with Buddha, however, the
-latter himself came to be a supreme deity of this sort, the old nature
-gods and magic demons becoming subservient to him. The god-idea had
-been etherealized into the abstract idea of a superpersonal being,
-but its place was taken by the human individual exalted into a deity.
-Christianity underwent the same crucial changes, though in a different
-manner. In the philosophy of the Greeks, the personal deity of popular
-belief had been displaced by a superpersonal being. Plato's "idea
-of the good," the Aristotelian _Nous_, which, as pure form, holds
-sway beyond the boundaries of the world, even the Stoic Zeus as the
-representative of the teleological character of the world order, and,
-finally, the gods of Epicurus, conceived as indefinite forms dwelling
-in nebulous regions and unconcerned with the world--all manifest the
-same tendency either to elevate the personal deities of the heroic age
-into superpersonal beings, or, as was essentially done by Epicurus, to
-retransform them into subpersonal, demon-like beings. In contrast with
-this tendency, Jesus, as the representative of a religious folk belief,
-holds fast to the god of ancient tradition, as developed in the Jahve
-religion of the Israelites. Indeed, it is in the conception of Jesus
-that this god receives his deepest and most personal expression,
-inasmuch as he is conceived as a god of love, to whom man stands in the
-relation of son to father. This conception of the relation of God to
-man Christianity sought to retain. But history is not in accord with
-this traditional view. Cult and dogma alike testify that in this case
-also the deity came to be superpersonal from an early period on. To
-cult, which is always concerned with personal gods, Christ became the
-supreme deity; in the Catholic Church, there came to be also a large
-number of secondary and subsidiary gods, who sometimes even crowded the
-Christ into the background, as is exemplified particularly by the cult
-of the Virgin Mary. Dogma, on its part, cannot conceal the fact that
-it originated in philosophy, which is destructive of personal gods.
-For dogma ascribes attributes to the deity that are irreconcilable
-with the concept of personality. The deity is represented as eternal,
-omnipotent, all-good, omnipresent--in short, as infinite in all
-attributes that are held to express his nature. The conception of the
-infinite, however, contradicts that of personality, for the latter
-demands a character that possesses sharply defined attributes. However
-comprehensive our conception of personality may be, limitation is
-necessarily implied; the concept loses its meaning when associated
-with the limitless and the infinite. Even though dogma may continue
-to maintain that belief in a personal God is fundamental to Christian
-faith, such a belief is nevertheless self-contradictory; the union of
-the ideas 'personal' and 'god' must be understood as a survival within
-the era of world religions, where many such survivals occur, of the
-god-idea developed by national religions.
-
-The truth is that the transformation of the personal god into a
-superpersonal deity is probably the most important mark of world
-religion. National religion displaced the subpersonal demon in favour
-of the personal god; in world religion, the personal god is exalted
-into a superpersonal deity. At this point there is a very close
-connection between world religion and world culture. As the idea that
-the universe is bounded by a sphere of fixed stars must give way to
-the conception of the infinitude of the universe, so also does world
-culture transcend the limits imposed upon it by the preparatory world
-empire, whose own origin was the State. World Culture, as we have
-seen, comes to signify a cultural unity of mankind, such as includes
-the national States. Similarly, world religion strives toward the idea
-of a deity who is superpersonal, and who, though only in so far as he
-is superpersonal, transcends the world of experience. The foundations
-of this concluding stage in the development of religion had long been
-laid by philosophy. In religion itself, the culmination was actually
-attained with the recedence of the deity in cult; in theology, it
-came with the ascription to the deity of attributes of absoluteness
-and infinitude, even though the deity-conception did not clearly
-emerge from a mystic incomprehensibility rendered inevitable by the
-combination of contradictory ideas.
-
-Though the transition from a personal god to a superpersonal deity
-is the decisive characteristic that marks a world religion, there
-is closely connected with it a second distinctive feature. In
-Christianity, indeed, it was the latter that prepared the way for the
-idea of the non-personal character of God. The fact to which I refer
-is that, in addition to the non-personal deity, there is believed to
-be a personal god in the form of an exalted human individual. Cult
-continues to require a personal being to whom man may come with his
-needs and desires. And by whom could his trouble be better understood
-than by a deity who himself lived and suffered as a man? In Buddhism,
-therefore, as well as in Christianity, the god-man became the personal
-representative of the non-personal deity, not as the result of any
-external transference, but in consequence of the same inner need. The
-god-man is a representative in more than one respect. Cult honours him
-as the deity who dwelt upon earth in human form, and who represents the
-godhead; it turns to him also as the human individual who represents
-mankind before God. Back of these two ideas of representativeness
-that dominate belief and cult, there is still a further, though an
-unrecognized, need for a representative. The religious nature requires
-that there shall be a personal god as the representative of him who has
-been exalted into a non-personal deity and has become inaccessible. The
-infinite god posited by the religious intellect is unable to satisfy
-the religious nature that is pressed by the cares and sufferings of
-finitude. Herewith the way is opened for a development whose course
-is determined by the changing relations into which the two aspects of
-the concept 'god-man' enter with one another. On the first stage, the
-divine aspect of the god-man overshadows the human character. At this
-period, it might appear as though world religion merely substituted a
-new god for the older gods. Though the superpersonal deity receives
-recognition in dogma, and the development, therefore, marks an
-important religious advance over the age of gods, the cult is directed
-to the person of the god-man. Then comes a second stage, in which
-the human aspect of the concept 'god-man' occupies the foreground.
-The god-man becomes an ideal human being who succours man in the
-afflictions of his soul, but who does so not so much by his divine
-power as by the example of human perfection which he represents. At
-the third stage, the god-man finally comes to be regarded as in every
-respect a man. It is recognized that, through the religious movement
-which bears his name, he indeed prepared the way for the idea that
-the deity is a non-personal source of being, exalted above all that
-is transitory. Nevertheless, the god-man is conceived as an ideal man
-only in the sense in which one may speak of any ideal as actual. Hence,
-the world religion derives its name from him not so much because of
-what he himself was as because of that which he created. From this
-point of view, it is eventually immaterial even whether or not Jesus
-or Buddha ever lived. The question becomes one of historical fact, not
-one of religious necessity. Jesus and Buddha live on in their religious
-creations. That these creations, to say nothing of any other proofs,
-point back to powerful religious personalities, the unbiased will
-regard as certain, though from this third point of view the question is
-of subordinate importance.
-
-A world religion may lay claim to being such not merely on account of
-its wide acceptance, but also because of its ability to incorporate
-the elements of other religions. In a similar manner, and more
-particularly, a world religion is one that includes within itself
-elements representing past stages of its own development. Historically
-considered, religious elements are juxtaposed in such a manner that
-the religious life of the past is mirrored in the present. Hence
-the religion can at no time emancipate itself from its historical
-development. It is just as impossible to return to the religious
-notions of earlier times as it is to transform ourselves into the
-contemporaries of Charlemagne or even of Frederick the Great. The
-past never returns. Nevertheless, it is universally characteristic of
-mental development, particularly within the sphere of religion, that
-the new not only continues to be affected by the old, but that the more
-advanced stages of culture actually embody many elements of the past.
-That these be permitted to exist side by side with higher conceptions,
-and that there be no limiting external barriers in either direction, is
-all the more demanded by world religion inasmuch as the independence of
-State and society, which its very nature implies, presupposes, first of
-all, the freedom of personal belief.
-
-Inasmuch as it possesses a universal human significance, religion
-cannot escape the change to which everything human is subject. This
-appears most strikingly in the undeniable fact that the fundamental
-idea of the two great world religions, Buddhism and Christianity,
-has in both cases changed. I refer to the idea of _salvation_.
-We do not, of course, mean to deny that an individual may either
-permanently or temporarily return to the religious ideas of the past
-with a fervour which again reinstates in him impulses that have long
-since disappeared. Nevertheless, the present-day idea of salvation
-is no longer identical with that which animated the primitive
-Christian Church when it looked forward to the return of its Saviour.
-Christianity is a religion of humanity. Precisely for this reason,
-it, in every age, took up into itself the feelings and aspirations
-representing the ideal spiritual forces of that age. All that was
-permanent in the midst of this change was really the religious impulse
-as such, the feeling that the world of sense belongs to an ideal
-supersensuous order--a feeling for which world religion seeks external
-corroboration in the development of religion itself. In distinction
-from national religions, which sprang from an infinitely large number
-of sources, a world religion requires a personal founder. To this
-personality is due also the direction of the further development of the
-religion. Thus, the final and most important characteristic of world
-religion is the fact that it is pre-eminently an _historical_ religion.
-It is historical both in that it has an historical origin, and in that
-it is constantly subject to the flux of historical development.
-
-
-
-5. WORLD HISTORY.
-
-
-The meaning attached to the term 'world history' clearly shows how
-firmly rooted is the anthropocentric view of the world in connection
-with those matters that are of deepest concern to man. World history
-is regarded as the history of mankind--indeed, in a still narrower
-sense, as, in the last analysis, the mental history of mankind. If
-facts of any other sort are taken into account, this is not because
-they are an essential part of the subject-matter, but because they
-represent external conditions of historical events. The justifiability
-of this point of view may scarcely be disputed. If the purpose of all
-historical knowledge is to understand the present condition of mankind
-in the light of its past, and, in so far as we also attribute to this
-knowledge a practical value, to indicate the probable course of the
-future, then the history of mind is the immediate source of historical
-knowledge. If this be true, it follows that the essential content
-of history consists in those events which spring from the psychical
-motives of human conduct. Moreover, it is the nexus and change of
-motives underlying such conduct that lends to events the inner
-continuity which is universally demanded of history.
-
-But the very meaning which is universally associated with the term
-'world history' itself includes _two_ very different conceptions. For,
-even when the field of history is limited to the events connected
-with mankind, as those which are of greatest importance to us, there
-remains a further question. Is history to deal with the _whole_ of
-mankind, or is it to be restricted merely to those peoples that have
-in any way affected the course of the mental history of humanity? As
-is well known, most of the works on world history have been confined
-to the more restricted field. For them, world history is an account
-of cultural peoples, whose activities are shown by a continuous
-tradition and by existing monuments to form a relatively connected
-whole. But there have also been more comprehensive works, which have
-felt it necessary to include at least those cultural and semi-cultural
-peoples who attained to some independent mental development, as did the
-peoples of the New World prior to the time of Columbus. Back of this
-uncertainty arising from the ambiguity of the concept 'mankind' lies
-a deeper-going confusion due to the no less ambiguous meaning of the
-concept 'history.' However much we may associate the word 'history'
-primarily with the traditional limits of historical science, we may
-not entirely put aside the broader meaning, according to which it
-includes everything which may at all be brought into a connected order
-of events. For we also speak of a history of the earth, of the solar
-system, of an animal or a plant species, etc. Now, with this wider
-connotation of the idea in mind, we cannot fail to recognize that the
-conditions that still prevail among certain races, and that doubtless
-at one time prevailed among all, are such that, while they would not
-concern historical science in its more restricted and familiar sense,
-they would demand consideration if the term were taken in its broader
-meaning. From the latter point of view, the condition of a primitive
-people of nature is no less a product of history than is the political
-and cultural condition of present-day Europe. But there is nevertheless
-a radical difference between the two cases. The historically
-trained European understands, to a fairly great extent, the external
-circumstances that have led to present conditions. He is conscious
-not merely of the present but also of its preceding history, and he
-therefore looks forward to the future with the expectation of further
-historical changes. The man of nature knows only the present. Of the
-past he possesses merely fragmentary elements, legendary in character,
-and much altered by the embellishments of a myth-creating imagination;
-his provision for the future scarcely extends beyond the coming day.
-Hence, we should scarcely be justified in unqualifiedly calling
-peoples of nature 'peoples without a history.' In the broader sense
-of the term, they have a history, as well as have the solar system,
-the earth, the animal, and the plant. But they lack a history in the
-narrower sense, according to which historical science includes among
-'historical' peoples only such as have had some special significance
-in the development of mental culture. That even this limitation is
-variable and uncertain need scarcely be mentioned. The past shows
-us many instances in which hordes that were previously unknown, and
-were thus, in the ordinary meaning of the term, peoples without a
-history, suddenly stepped into the arena of the cultured world and
-its history. The colonial history of the present, moreover, shows
-that the characteristics and the past development of races occupying
-regions of the earth newly opened to cultural peoples, have not been,
-and are not, without influence upon the course of history. It should
-also be remembered that between an historical tradition comprehending
-the entire cultural world and recollection limited to the immediate
-past, there are a great number of intermediate stages. These stages
-are dependent primarily upon the forms of social organization, though
-also upon other cultural factors. Peoples that have failed to advance
-beyond a tribal organization may frequently have traversed wide regions
-of the earth and yet have preserved at most certain legendary elements
-of the history of these migrations, although retaining myths, cults,
-and customs indefinitely. On the other hand, wherever a national State
-has arisen, there has developed also a national tradition, intermingled
-with which, of course, there have long continued to be mythological
-and legendary elements. But the tradition, even in this case, relates
-exclusively to the particular people who entertain it. Strange races
-are as yet touched upon only in so far as they have directly affected
-the interests of those who preserve the tradition. Indeed, such races
-continue to have but an inconspicuous place in tradition until the
-establishment of world empires and of the partly anticipatory colonial
-and trade interrelation of peoples. Hence it is not until the rise of
-world empires that we find the transition to world history in the sense
-in which the term is most commonly employed to-day. In so far as world
-history involves a transcendence of the history of a single people but
-nevertheless a limitation to the circle of cultural peoples who are
-more or less generally interrelated, it is a direct product of world
-culture. Such a history includes all peoples who participate in world
-culture and excludes all those who have no share in it.
-
-Considered from a psychological point of view, the different meanings
-of the concept 'history' in its relation to the various stages of
-mental culture, clearly show a fluctuation between _two_ ideas which,
-though opposite, nevertheless mutually imply each other. On the one
-hand, there is the purely objective conception of history. History, in
-this case, is regarded as a course of events of such a nature that the
-specific occurrences may be brought by an external observer into an
-orderly sequence of conditions and results. On the other hand, history
-has been conceived as a course of events, which not only exhibits an
-orderly sequence from an objective point of view, but which is also
-_subjectively experienced_ as a nexus by the individuals concerned. In
-the one case, history is a reconstruction, on the basis of external
-observation, of the inner connection of phenomena; in the other, it is
-the conscious experience of the latter connection. Mankind exemplifies
-all possible transitional stages between these two extremes--history
-as merely objectively given, and as experienced both objectively and
-subjectively. Indeed, it is even true to say that, as a matter of fact,
-none but such transitional stages actually occur. Even the horizon
-of primitive man includes a narrow circle of consciously experienced
-history. On the other hand, man is ever far from attaining to a
-self-conscious grasp of his own history in its entirety. Thus, that
-which is in a high degree characteristic of world religion is true
-also of world history. Within the conscious horizon of each individual
-very different levels of historical consciousness are represented,
-even in the case of the cultural peoples who participate more or less
-actively in the course of world history. Here, as in world religion, we
-find that what was developed in a sequence during the course of ages
-continues to remain, at any rate roughly speaking, in juxtaposition.
-Moreover, even apart from this, we never survey more than a segment
-of the entire nexus of historical factors. One of the most important
-tasks of the historian consists in tracing the chain of events back to
-motives which are, in part, inaccessible to superficial observation,
-and, in part, indeed, remain of a problematical nature even when we
-believe that, through inference, we have gained an approximately true
-conception of them. Nevertheless, it is not necessary that immediate
-knowledge be complete in order that there may be a consciously
-experienced nexus of events such as is demanded for the content of
-history proper. It is merely necessary that some interconnection be
-actually experienced and that its relations be directly apprehended.
-This knowledge, moreover, must possess sufficient power to influence
-decisively the actual course of events.
-
-This narrower conception of history brings historical events into
-relation with the human _will_. The will is really a phase of
-conscious experience. It is necessary, however, to single it out for
-special discussion, because of the fact that popular opinion either
-regards it as the exclusive factor in history or else stresses it
-so one-sidedly that the causal view, required in principle even
-for individual consciousness, threatens to vanish entirely from
-the conception of historical life. Naturally, the will does not
-become an influence definitely affecting the course of events until
-individuals have become consciously aware of the interconnectedness
-of historical life. Whenever, therefore, an exaggerated importance
-is attached to the function of volition, the conscious intervention
-of individual personalities in the course of events readily comes to
-appear as the decisive feature that distinguishes the historical from
-the prehistorical stages of human development. But this is erroneous
-in both its implications. Even the life of primitive peoples of
-nature is not entirely unaffected by individual personalities, whose
-influence may be more or less permanently operative even after they
-themselves have been forgotten. On the other hand, the will acts of
-individuals constitute but one factor among the many which determine
-historical life. Moreover, inasmuch as every particular volition
-is conditioned by motives inherent in the general constitution of
-individual consciousness, it is subject to the same psychical causality
-that dominates human consciousness in general. The criterion for
-differentiating historic from prehistoric existence, therefore, is
-not the influence of a personal will upon the life of the group, but
-rather the fact that the conscious experience of historical continuity
-includes a recognition of the effect of individual personalities upon
-the destinies of peoples. The advance to such an insight is inaugurated
-by world empires, in which the vicissitudes of peoples first begin to
-form a unified history; it reaches its completion in world culture,
-which creates a common mental heritage for mankind, and thus engenders
-the consciousness of a universal community.
-
-Of the various elements of world culture that give impetus to this
-development, the _world religions_ occupy the foremost place. In extent
-and permanence they surpass not only the world empires but also all
-other forms of material and spiritual interchange between peoples.
-However much the traditions associated with world religions may be
-interwoven with mythological and legendary elements, they nevertheless
-constitute a bond whose primary effect is to arouse among peoples
-who may otherwise be widely different in culture and history, the
-idea of a universal human community. The peoples of Eastern Asia,
-for example, though exhibiting marked political differences, were
-united by Buddhism into a community of religious thought, in which
-they became conscious that, in spite of differences of race and of
-history, they possessed a similar religious and ethical temper. If we
-compare the Brahmanic doctrines with the sayings of such teachers as
-Confucius and Lao-tsze, we are struck particularly by the similarity
-of ethical trend as well as by the divergence of this trend from that
-of Occidental thought. In its idea of a community of faith, Islamism
-likewise brought the consciousness of unity to numerous peoples of
-barbaric culture--to a more limited extent than Buddhism, it is true,
-but for this reason all the more forcefully. Of Christianity, it is
-even more true that, from the very beginning, it took as its guiding
-principle the belief that in the eyes of God there is no distinction
-either of race or of class and occupation. Hence it has regarded
-missionary activity among heathen peoples as a task whose purpose it
-is finally to unite the whole of mankind beneath the cross of Christ.
-Thus, world religion destroyed the barriers erected by the preceding
-national religions, and took as its aim the unification of men and
-races into an all-embracing community. To the adherent of a national
-religion, the race that believed in a different god was strange and
-hostile; both characteristics, strangeness and hostility, were included
-by the Greek in the term 'barbarian.' The Christian speaks of heathen
-who have not as yet beheld the light of pure truth, but for him there
-are no barbarians. The god to whom the Christian prays likewise rules
-the heathen world, and to the heathen, also, the gospel is preached.
-True, we find a recurring limitation in that it is only the Christian
-who is a brother to Christians. Nevertheless, it is prophesied of the
-heathen that they will at one time be received into the brotherhood of
-the disciples of Christ. At the end of time, there is to be but _one_
-shepherd and _one_ flock upon earth. Thus, in the missionary activity
-which the Christian recognizes as his calling, the assertion, All men
-are brothers, is based on the two ideas, All Christians are brothers,
-and All men are destined to become Christians.
-
-It was on the basis of the Christian tradition that science first
-attempted to treat history, not as the history of a single people or,
-at best, as a number of histories of successive or contemporaneous
-races and States, but as true world history. At the outset, world
-history was objective in character. The underlying thought was that the
-whole of mankind was controlled by a single idea which governed all
-events, and that the task of humanity consisted in carrying this idea
-into realization. Augustine's _Civitas Dei_ was the first attempt at a
-world history based on the idea of the religious vocation of mankind.
-That this exposition is limited to the legendary history of the
-Israelitic people, supplemented by the history of Jesus as transmitted
-in the Gospels, and by the Apocalyptic prophecies of a future world,
-should not cause surprise. The limitation is due to the fact that the
-idea of humanity is considered solely from the religious point of
-view. The Church, as the institution about which religion centres, is
-glorified by Augustine's work as the divine State. The adoption of this
-religious viewpoint causes the history of mankind to appear as record,
-not of human experiences that come as a result of human striving and
-activity, but of events that are from the very beginning divinely
-foreordained.
-
-Nevertheless, Augustine's remarkable work long continued to determine
-the general direction of conceptions relating to the history of
-mankind. Up to the eighteenth century, _religious_ development was
-regarded as establishing the only connection between the various
-periods of history. The sole exception to this occurred in the case of
-Giambattista Vico. In his _New Science_ (1725), Vico sought to combine
-the development of language and of jurisprudence with that of religion.
-True, the question regarding the origin of the State and the causes
-of changes in constitutions had concerned men from the time of the
-early Sophists on. Particularly during the Hellenistic period and at
-the time of the Renaissance, such inquiries were of focal interest, as
-a result of the great political changes that were then taking place.
-Yet, whenever the underlying laws of such changes were sought, it was
-the _single_ State that formed the basis of investigation; by comparing
-its vicissitudes with those of other States, the attempt was made
-to arrive at a general law along some such line as the Aristotelian
-classification of States into monarchies, aristocracies, democracies,
-etc. There was hardly ever a suggestion that the historical sequence
-of civilizations and of States was a connected process intelligible
-in causal or teleological terms. Religion alone was conceived as a
-phenomenon which was, on the one hand, independent of the limits of a
-single people, and yet, on the other, subject, in its development, to
-law. The idea that Christianity was destined to be a world religion,
-together with the fact that it had originated historically and had
-spread widely, did not admit of any other interpretation. Within this
-Christian circle of ideas, moreover, the historical development and
-growth of religion were, quite naturally, brought into connection with
-the world beyond, in which the development was thought to await its
-completion. The religious philosophy of history thus terminated in a
-prophecy whose culmination was the final triumph of Christianity. The
-Age of Enlightenment, after effecting a unification of Christianity
-with the religion of reason, again made the world of historical
-experience the scene of triumph. This triumph was held to consist in
-the ultimate development of Christianity into a religion of reason--a
-conception in which the idea of the destiny of Christianity to become
-a world religion undergoes a philosophical transformation which recurs
-even in the writings of Kant.
-
-Apart from this transformation, which was only partially complete
-even in the Age of Enlightenment, the idea of religious development
-that grew up in connection with Christian thought involves _two_
-presuppositions. The first of these is that the pathway of mankind
-was _determined by God_, and not voluntarily chosen by man himself.
-It is not to religious thought that the characteristic features of
-the development must be ascribed. The development, moreover, is not
-immanent in religion; it is the result of external causes. The second
-presupposition is that this development follows a preconceived _plan_;
-it embodies a purpose--indeed, it expresses purpose in the very highest
-degree precisely because it proceeds from the will of God. Even the
-co-operation of individuals in the fulfilment of this plan is but the
-result of divine predetermination, or happens because God has made
-known His purposes to these individuals. Thus, this course of thought
-leads with inner necessity to the conception of _revelation_. This
-conception combines two essentially irreconcilable ideas, offsetting
-each by the other. The religious destiny of man is thought to lie
-outside his own control: it is imposed upon him from without, and is
-communicated to him in the form of an illumination which he receives
-from the supersensuous world. Thus, religious development itself
-becomes a supersensuous process, which falls beyond the possibilities
-of the ordinary means of human knowledge. As its goal lies in the
-supersensuous, so also is the development itself a supersensuous
-process that extends over into the world of sense.
-
-But at this point the religious view of world history necessarily came
-into sharp conflict with the philosophical view, though the latter had
-in certain respects appropriated the idea, developed by the former, of
-a teleological direction of human destinies. The philosopher, always
-trusting the guidance of his own reason, might admit both a goal and
-a plan, but that these should be inaccessible to the _lux naturalis_,
-as the philosophy of the Enlightenment called rational knowledge in
-distinction from _lux supranaturalis_, or revelation, he could not
-concede. The logical outcome of this course of thought was an auxiliary
-concept which appeared to surmount the difficulty, and also possessed
-the happy characteristic of leaving every one free to retain, along
-with the natural light, as much or as little of the supernatural
-thought of an earlier period as he might deem wise. This auxiliary
-concept was that of _education_--a conception that would readily
-suggest itself to an age vitally interested in pedagogical questions.
-The thought here involved represents merely a special application to
-this particular instance of the idea that the world is governed by a
-personal deity. Thus it came about that, from the time of Locke and
-Leibniz down to that of Lessing and Herder, the favourite conception of
-history was that of an education of mankind. But it is significant that
-the very work whose title incorporates this idea, Lessing's _Education
-of the Human Race_, really ends by displacing it. True, as a result
-of Biblical tradition, the idea of education is here brought into
-connection with the thought that the Jewish race is the chosen people
-of God. Freed from this connection, however, and applied to mankind
-in general, the idea of education, in Lessing's work, becomes that of
-_self-education_, or, what is the same thing, that of a _development_
-determined by the general laws of mental life. Hence conditions were
-ripe for the further advance made by Herder, in his _Ideas on the
-Philosophy of the History of Mankind_. Though frequently lapsing,
-in his discussions of details, into the transcendent teleology of
-the preceding period, Herder nevertheless did away in principle with
-the restriction of the history of mankind to religious development,
-substituting for the latter the development to humanity.
-
-Thus was determined the programme which historical science, at about
-the same time, accepted as its own--the programme of a universal
-history, whose task did not consist in presenting a loosely connected
-series of the histories of separate States, but in describing the
-common participation of peoples and States in the development of
-a universal culture. Furthermore, the way was cleared for the
-philosophical position that history is not, as was once thought, the
-expression of a predetermined plan whose purpose is that of a divine
-education, but that it is the result of laws immanent in historical
-life itself. Though variously expressed and partly obscured by
-surviving ideas of the preceding period, this is the fundamental
-conviction common to the nineteenth-century philosophers of history.
-It received its most complete expression in the writings of Hegel,
-not merely in his _Lectures on the Philosophy of History_, but in
-his entire philosophy, which reflects throughout a broad historical
-outlook. History had by this time come to be regarded as a strictly
-self-dependent development of ideas in which each advance proceeds
-with rigid logical necessity from that which went before. In other
-words, it was thought of as a development of reason in time, or, in
-the phraseology of a religious world-view, as the living development
-of God himself. God is no longer conceived as a transmundane being who
-guides the destinies of mankind according to a preconceived plan. On
-the contrary, He is represented as immanent in the world. His innermost
-nature is described as the world-reason, and this is said to be
-unfolded particularly in the history of mankind.
-
-However superior this conception may be to the preceding
-semi-mythological and semi-rationalistic theory of a divine education,
-it is clearly apparent that it was the outcome of a continuous
-development, characterized, we may doubtless say, by strict logical
-necessity. Antecedent to it were, first, the conception that this world
-is a preparation for the kingdom of God, and, later, the thought that
-life is an education in accordance with a predetermined plan. That the
-Hegelian conception is the result of such a development is evident from
-the very fact that it continues to regard the destinies of mankind as
-guided by a plan. This plan has, from stage to stage, merely passed
-from transcendence to immanence, inasmuch as it is finally thought to
-be present to the mind of the philosopher who interprets the meaning
-of history. Hence this later philosophy of history resembles the
-earlier in still another respect. Ultimately, both are more concerned
-with the future than with the past, thus being at once history and
-prophecy. Even at the later period, the central question to whose
-answer everything else is preparatory concerns the final goal toward
-which mankind is striving. Hence it is that the philosophers of this
-age are led time and again to divide the total life of humanity into
-periods inclusive of past, present, and future, precisely as did
-the world-plan of Augustine, whose basal conception was the idea of
-redemption. Since these periods are not derived from the progress of
-events, but are for the most part imposed upon it in conformity to the
-dictates of logic, the course of history is mapped out by reference to
-logical categories. Each of the great cultural peoples is portrayed as
-representing a specific idea, and, disregarding everything that might
-disturb their sequence, these ideas are arranged in a logical series.
-Thus, Hegel begins his reconstruction of history with an account of
-the Chinese as the people who possessed the earliest civilization. He
-does so, however, not because Chinese culture was as a matter of fact
-the earliest, but because it has apparently been more stable than other
-cultures, as well as more closely bound up with rigid external forms.
-Correspondingly, all succeeding stages of history are arranged by
-Hegel according to the principle, on the one hand, of a progress from
-bondage to spiritual freedom, and, on the other, of a transition from
-finite limitation to a striving for the infinite. This philosophy of
-history should not be criticized for its lack of knowledge concerning
-the beginnings of culture. Its fundamental error lies in the fact
-that, in tracing the development of mankind, it is guided, not by the
-rich concrete actuality of events but by a logical schematism which is
-in large measure imposed upon history, and only to a far less degree
-abstracted from it. That which was once a plan prescribed by God for
-mankind here at length becomes a plan elaborated by philosophers.
-
-Without question, therefore, a philosophy of history must henceforth
-adopt a different course. True, it cannot dispense with principles that
-are in a certain sense external to history itself. Yet the function of
-such a philosophy would appear to consist in considering historical
-life from the point of view of the purposes that come to realization
-within it, and of the values that are created on the various levels of
-historical culture. Such a teleology of history--indeed, in the last
-analysis, every teleology--must be preceded by a causal investigation,
-which begins, here as everywhere, by entirely ignoring purposes and
-values. Now, history is really an account of mental life. As such,
-it gives consideration to physical factors only in so far as they
-furnish the indispensable basis of mind. Hence the direct approach to a
-philosophy of history which aims, not to acquire a knowledge of reality
-from _a priori_ concepts but, conversely, to derive ideas from reality,
-is a _psychological account of the development of mankind_. Although
-the concrete significance of the particular, as such, precludes the
-historian from disregarding it, everything that is merely particular
-should be ignored by one who is giving a psychological account of
-events. The aim, in this latter case, should be that of discovering
-the determining motives of historical life and its changes, and
-of interpreting these by reference to the universal laws of mind.
-Supplementing this aim should be the endeavour to gain, so far as
-possible, an insight into the laws that are immanent in history itself.
-Our first three chapters have attempted to give an account of the
-development of folk consciousness during the periods that, for the most
-part, preceded self-conscious historical life. But neither this account
-nor the bare outline which our final chapter gives of the beginnings of
-the development to humanity must pretend to be a substitute for, or in
-any way to represent, a philosophy of history. The difference between
-an investigation such as ours and a philosophy of history is precisely
-the same as that which distinguishes a psychological description of
-mental life in general from a philosophical interpretation. But, if
-anywhere, it is especially in the field of history that a psychological
-analysis, concerned primarily to understand life in its actual
-occurrence, must precede questions regarding the meaning of events and
-the value which individual historical characters possess as respects
-both themselves and their permanent influence. In other words, we
-may henceforth demand that any philosophy of history which seeks to
-contribute to our understanding of the questions just mentioned, should
-be based on a psychological account of the development of mankind.
-
-The point that we would emphasize is not that the philosophy of history
-has failed, in the past centuries, to find a satisfactory solution of
-its problem, and that its failure was inevitable. To the historical
-mind there is a far more important consideration. This consists in the
-fact that, when freed from its original mythological and teleological
-connections, the general conception of a history of mankind developed
-during these centuries has given clear definition to the idea of
-humanity in its most universal form. Humanity, it has been shown,
-includes within itself all antecedent social phenomena--peoples and
-States, religion and culture. This entire social complex has been
-subsumed under the principle that law is immanent in all history.
-
-
-
-
-INDEX
-
-
-_Prepared by Dr. Alma de Vries Schaub on the basis of the German Index
-compiled by Dr. Hans Lindau._
-
-    Abraham, 45, 154, 355, 361, 384, 435;
-      and Isaac, 435
-    Adornment, 21, 86, 100, 105, 110, 120, 131, 449 ff.
-    Adventure, Märchen of, 279 f., 395
-    Æsculapius, 439
-    Agamy, 36, 169, 181
-    Age,
-      of the development to humanity, 470 ff.;
-      of heroes and gods, 281 ff.;
-      of personalities, 320;
-      of primitive man, 11 ff.;
-      the totemic, 116 ff.
-    Age-groups, 41, 51, 131
-    Agricultural ceremonies, 135
-    Agriculture, 126 f., 140, 486;
-      Animals in, 120 f., 124
-    Alexandrianism, 490
-    Allegories, 421 ff.
-    Amulets, 86, 227 ff., 292, 439, 451
-    Anabaptists, 444
-    Ancestor,
-      Animal, 117, 132 f., 204, 230 ff.;
-      Demon, 467;
-      Human, 204, 214, 230 ff.;
-      Totem, 186
-    Ancestor cults, 205, 230 ff.
-    Ancestor theory, 361 f.
-    Ancestor worship, 117, 186 f., 204, 214, 410, 480
-    Ancestral spirits, 419
-    Animals,
-      Breeding of, 120, 289 ff., 420;
-      Domestic, 120, 289 ff., 420;
-      Sacred, 121;
-      Soul, 83, 190 ff., 214, 368, 412 f.;
-      Totem, 117 ff., 131 ff., 143, 188 ff., 193, 200, 260, 412 f.;
-      Transformations into, 133, 272 ff., 412 f.
-    Animal cult, 117, 136
-    Animal dance, 464
-    Animal fable, 272
-    Animal mask, 95, 105, 135
-    Animal names, 187 f.
-    Animal sacrifice, 210 f., 433 f.
-    Animal totem, 117, 138 f., 186, 214
-    Animism, 139, 193, 204 f.
-    Anthropology, Prehistoric, 14 f.
-    Anthropophagy, 31, 209 f.
-    Arbitrator, 331
-    Architecture, 261, 451 ff.
-    Art, 94 ff., 104, 256 ff., 322, 448 ff., 490;
-      Formative, 100 ff., 256 f.;
-      Imitative, 107 f.;
-      Memorial, 23 f., 107 f.;
-      Miniature, 453;
-      Musical, 262 ff., 456 ff.
-    Aristotle, 12 f., 19, 350, 504, 517
-    Asceticism, 198
-    Augustine, 516, 521
-    Aversion, 194
-    Awe, 194
-
-    _Bachofen, J.,_, 34 ff.
-    Baptism, 444 f.
-    Barter, 168;
-      Secret, 10, 21, 31 ff., 55, 120;
-      Marriage by, 157
-    Beyond, Belief in a, 394 ff., 412, 420 f., 423 ff., 431, 495, 502
-    Blessedness, 396, 403 f., 406
-    Blood,
-      Relation of soul to, 191, 206 ff., 213;
-      Taboo of, 200, 210
-    Blood-magic, 191
-    Blood-relationship, 208 f.
-    Blood-revenge, 163, 314, 333, 339 ff., 344 ff.
-    Blowpipe, 100 f., 104
-    Boat, 129
-    Boomerang, 27 f., 125, 177
-    Bow and arrow, 16, 26 ff., 33, 49, 112, 124
-    Breath, Relation of soul to, 192 f., 205 ff., 212 f., 242
-    _Bücher, Karl_, 267
-    Buddha, 381 f., 425 f., 498 f., 504, 507
-    Buddhism, 10, 478, 496 ff., 515
-    Bull-roarer, 99 f., 181, 266
-    Burial, 216 ff., 397
-    Bush soul, 232
-
-    Capture, Marriage by, 154 ff., 163, 168
-    Castle, 324 f., 327, 452
-    Castration, 290 f., 294 f.
-    Cattle-raising, 120, 124, 137 f.
-    Causality, 92 f.
-    Cave, 22 ff., 106, 108
-    Celestial cults, 251
-    Celestial märchen, 275 f.
-    Celestial mythology, 76, 80, 91, 130 f., 134 ff., 140, 189,
-      220, 246, 258, 355 ff., 419
-    Celestial phenomena, 304 ff.
-    Ceramics, 30, 80, 135, 259 f.
-    Ceremonies,
-      Intichiuma, 185 f., 188 f., 244 ff.;
-      Sanctification, 442 ff.;
-      Vegetation, 135 f., 189, 249, 418 ff
-    Chaos, 388, 390, 392
-    Chief wife, 45f., 168 ff., 316
-    Chieftain, 121, 134, 195, 233
-    Chieftainship, 119, 125, 233, 314, 332
-    Christianity, 10, 478, 496 ff., 515 f.
-    Church and State, 491 f.
-    Churingas, 177, 181, 185, 190, 204, 221, 224 ff.
-    Circumcision, 445
-    Cities, Foundation of, 311, 323 f.
-    Clan names, 141 ff.
-    Classes, Differentiation of, 125, 311, 316 ff.
-    Club, Men's, 41, 47, 119, 131, 173 f., 255, 312, 409
-    Coat of arms, 143, 232
-    Colonization, 300 f.
-    Common property, 248, 317 ff.
-    Community labour, 136, 247 f.
-    Compurgator, 335
-    Conception totemism, 176, 180 ff., 189 f., 191, 193
-    Conjuration, 269, 427 f.
-    Conscience, 329, 431
-    Consecration gift, 438 ff.
-    Constitution, 349 ff.
-    Contract, Marriage by, 158 f.
-    Cord magic, 86 f., 202, 415, 440
-    Corporeal soul, 82, 191 f., 205 ff., 211 ff., 216, 221 f., 406
-    Corroboree, 184, 464
-    Cosmogony, 370, 385 ff., 393, 404
-    Cosmopolitanism, 489
-    Counter-gods, 370
-    Counter-magic, 84, 105, 201, 203, 444 f.
-    Counting, Systems of, 304 ff.
-    Couvade, 198
-    Creation-myths, 388 ff.
-    Cremation, 218 ff., 397
-    Crouching graves, 218
-    Cults,
-      Ancestor, 117, 204f., 230 ff.;
-      Celestial, 251 f.;
-      of the dead, 452;
-      Deity, 205, 325, 414 ff., 424 ff.;
-      Demon, 249 ff.;
-      Hero, 204;
-      Magic, 416 f.;
-      Mystery, 420 ff., 502;
-      of saints, 178 f.;
-      of the soil, 245 ff.;
-      Soul, 421 f., 502;
-      Totemic, 236 ff.;
-      Vegetation, 135, 243 ff., 250 f., 294, 418 ff.
-    Cult associations, 119, 136, 143, 161, 179 f., 255
-    Cult ceremonies, 90
-    Cult practices, 426 ff.
-    Cult songs, 96, 267 ff., 461
-    Custom, 350
-
-    Dance, 90, 95 f., 104, 249, 262 ff., 449, 457;
-      Ceremonial, 264;
-      Ecstatic, 249, 264, 418, 423
-    Dance-song, 95 f.
-    Dead,
-      Disposal of the, 81, 215 ff., 234 f., 238 f., 397, 405;
-      Realm of the, 398 ff.;
-      Sacrifice to the, 238 ff., 253 f., 433 f.
-    Deaf and dumb, The, 59 f.
-    Death, 81 f., 494
-    Debt, 343
-    Degeneration theory, 225, 353
-    Deity cult, 205, 325, 414 ff., 424 ff.
-    Deity saga, 384 f.
-    Demon battles, 370, 404 f.
-    Demon cult, 249 ff.
-    Demons, 75 ff., 81 ff., 105, 196, 201, 203, 217 f., 221 f.,
-        224, 236, 263 f., 284 f., 351 ff., 361 ff., 387 ff., 418 ff.;
-      and the epic, 458 f.;
-      and heroes, 283 ff., 369, 372 f., 454;
-      Vegetation, 441
-    Destiny, 366
-    Development, Theory of, 353 ff.
-    Devourment, Märchen of, 276 ff.
-    Differentiation of classes, 125, 311, 316 ff.;
-      of vocations, 311, 321 ff.
-    Digging-stick, 26, 100, 120, 124, 126 f.
-    Dionysian mysteries, 447
-    Discoveries, Geographical, 492
-    Divination, 441 f.
-    Divine State, 329, 373, 388, 411, 416, 494
-    Dog, 22 f., 124, 290
-    Domestic animals, Breeding of, 120 f., 289 ff.
-    Drama, 9, 462 ff., 490
-    Dreams, 189 f., 193, 205 f., 401, 407
-    Dress, 21;
-      Origin of, 85 ff., 120, 126, 131, 133, 449
-    Duel, 336
-    Dwelling, 21 ff., 106
-    Dwarf peoples, 19, 77 f., 115, 353
-
-    Eclipse of the sun, 81
-    Ecstasy, 249, 397, 423 f., 434
-    Education and history, 519
-    Elysium, 403 f.
-    Emotion, 81, 92 f., 105, 114, 264, 268, 356, 367 ff., 423, 466, 468 f.;
-      as related to magic, 93
-    Endogamy, 118, 149, 151, 166
-    Enlightenment, 11, 470, 517
-    Epic, 9, 280, 450, 457 ff.
-    Ethnology, 5 f., 122
-    Eunuchs, 294
-    Evil magic, 274
-    Exogamy, 46, 118, 144 ff., 163 ff., 183, 196, 289 f.
-
-    Family, 12f., 34 ff., 235, 311 ff.;
-      Joint, 153, 312 ff.;
-      The original, 12;
-      Single, 313, 315
-    Father-right, 36, 314
-    Fear, 81, 92, 194, 200, 224, 370, 400
-    Fetish, 186 f., 214, 220 ff., 352 f., 439, 454
-    Fetishism, 139, 186 f., 204, 352
-    Fire, 30 f., 124;
-      Acquisition of, 30 ff;
-      Kindling of, 49, 292;
-      Lustration by, 201 f., 218 ff., 243, 338, 407, 443 f., 446;
-      Solstice, 202;
-      Trial by, 243, 338
-    First-fruits, Sacrifice of, 440 f.
-    Flood, Universal, 391 ff.
-    Flood saga, 391 ff.
-    Flute, 97, 266
-    Folk psychology,
-      History of, 1 ff.;
-      Methods of, 6 f.;
-      Problem of, 3 f.;
-      relation to ethnology, 5 f.;
-      relation to general psychology, 3;
-      relation to philosophy of history, 522 f.
-    Food,
-      of primitive man, 24 ff.;
-      Prohibitions on, 199 f.
-    Forest-dwellers, 19, 122, 395
-    Formative art, 99 ff., 256 f.
-    Fortitude, 242 f., 247
-    Foundation of cities, 311, 323 ff.
-    _Frazer, J. G.,_, 38, 152, 189 f.
-    Fusion, Racial, 111, 288 f.
-
-    Gathering of food, 24 f., 124, 140, 144
-    Genetic psychology, 4
-    Gesture language, 58 ff., 69
-    Gestures,
-      Graphic, 62 f,;
-      Pointing, 61 f.;
-      Significant, 63
-    Gift, 432ff.;
-      Consecration, 438f.;
-      Marriage by, 158, 163f.;
-      Votive, 438 f.
-    Gift theory of sacrifice, 240, 432 ff.
-    _Gillen, Messrs. Spencer and_, 18, 38, 188
-    Gods,
-      Abode of, 364, 366;
-      Age of heroes and, 8 f., 121, 235 f., 281 ff.;
-      Battles of, 370, 388 f., 404 f.;
-      Belief in, 285 f.;
-      Characteristics of, 282 ff., 362 ff.;
-      Cult of, 205, 325, 414 ff., 424 ff.;
-      Decline of, 365;
-      and demons, 366 f., 369, 459;
-      Development of, 362 ff.;
-      Images of, 223 f., 247, 450, 453f.;
-      Judgment of, 337;
-      of the moment, 362 ff.;
-      Origin of, 350 ff., 364 ff., 369;
-      Particular, 362 ff.;
-      Perfection of, 364 f.;
-      Personality of, 236, 366 ff.;
-      of the present, 234;
-      Saga of, 228, 374 f., 384 f.;
-      Superpersonal, 390, 467, 504 ff.
-    God-man, 506 f.
-    Greek language and culture, 488 ff.
-    _Grimm, Jacob_, 459
-    Graves, Crouching, 218
-    Group-marriage, 38, 41 f., 44 f., 48, 168 ff., 316
-    Guardian animal, 190, 232
-    Guardian deity, 325, 501
-    Guardian spirits, 178, 369
-    Guide, 407 f.
-    Guilt, 203, 253, 430
-    Gynocracy, 35 f.
-
-    Hades, 398, 401, 404
-    Hammurabi, Code of, 330, 338, 343, 347, 411
-    Harvest, Sacrifices in connection with, 440 f.
-    Heart and soul, 207
-    Heaven, 395, 404
-    Heavens,
-      Mythology of the, 76, 80, 91 f., 130 f., 134 f., 140, 189,
-        220, 246, 258, 355 f., 419;
-      Phenomena of the, 304 ff.
-    _Hegel_, 520 f.
-    Helios, 358 f.
-    Hercules, 376 f., 382, 407
-    Herd, 52, 121
-    _Herder_, 52, 470, 472, 519
-    Hermes, 407 f.
-    Hero, 9, 281 ff,;
-      Cult of the, 204;
-      and demon, 283 ff., 369, 372 f., 454;
-      and god, 282 ff., 364, 369 ff., 454
-    Hero saga, 228, 356, 374 ff.
-    Heroic age, 281 ff.
-    Heroic song, 9
-    _Hillebrand, Karl_, 1
-    Historical consciousness, 478
-    Historical religion, 509
-    History, 510 ff.;
-      and saga, 377 ff.
-    _Hobbes, Thomas_, 11 f., 34, 36, 111
-    Hoe, 120, 126 f., 134
-    Hoe-culture, 134, 138, 246, 248, 250, 289
-    Horde, 52, 120, 145, 180, 237, 302, 471, 511
-    Horse, 293
-    Hospitality, 341
-    Hostage, 343
-    _Howitt, A. W._, 18, 37f., 142, 188
-    Human nature, 471 f., 475
-    Humanity, 9, 470 ff.;
-      Ideal of, 410
-    Hunting, 24 f., 140, 144;
-      Use of dog in, 22 f.
-    Hut,
-      Conical, 261, 451;
-      Pole, 261;
-      Spherical, 261
-    Hymns, 385, 393, 430, 461, 465
-
-    Ideals, Religious, 410
-    Ideas,
-      of a beyond, 393 ff., 420, 423 ff., 431, 495;
-      Concrete, 72;
-      Mythological, 74
-    Idols, 131
-    Images, Divine, 223 f., 447, 450, 453 f.
-    Imitation of animals, 95
-    Immortality, Belief in, 233, 394 ff., 412, 420 f., 423 ff.,
-      431, 495, 502
-    Imprisonment, 342 ff.
-    Individual rulership, 287, 313
-    Individualism, 489, 492
-    Infanticide, 43 f., 175, 237
-    Infinitude, 505 f.
-    Instruments,
-      of concussion, 265;
-      Musical, 97 ff., 265 f., 457, 468;
-      Stringed, 97 f., 266;
-      Wind, 265 f.
-    Initiation ceremonies, 202, 241 ff., 247
-    Intelligence of primitive man, 109 ff.
-    Intichiuma ceremonies, 185 f., 188 f., 244 ff.
-    Islamism, 10, 316, 497
-
-    Javelin, 124 f.
-    Joint family, 153, 312 ff.
-    Jordan festival, 203, 446
-    Judaism, 497
-    Judge, 331 ff., 347;
-      Appointed, 331;
-      in the underworld, 403
-    Judgment of the gods, 337
-    Judicial functions, Division of, 348 f.
-    Justice, Administration of, 331 ff.
-    _Jus primæ noctis_, 46, 168
-    _Jus talionis_, 345 ff.
-
-    _Kant_, 470, 517
-    _Kern, H._, 55
-    Kidneys, as vehicles of the soul, 209, 211 f., 221, 434 f., 445
-    Kiss, 242
-    _Klaatsch, Hermann_, 15
-    Knife, 131, 449
-    _Kollman, Julius_, 77
-
-    Labour,
-      Community, 136, 247 f.;
-      Degradation of, 321 f.;
-      Division of, 49 f., 300;
-      Equalization of, 322 f.
-    Landscape painting, 456
-    _Lang, Andrew_, 153, 187
-    Language, 53 ff., 137;
-      Gesture, 58 ff., 69
-    Lawgivers, 307 f.
-    _Lazarus and Steinthal, Messrs._, 2
-    Legal system, 327 ff.
-    Legends, 381 ff., 421 f.;
-      Mura-mura, 231;
-      of redemption, 382 f.;
-      Religious, 381;
-      of saints, 381 ff., 464
-    _Lessing_, 414, 519
-    Lie, 63, 114
-    _Lippert, Julius_, 205, 231
-    Liturgy, 463, 465 ff.
-    Loin cord, 85 ff.
-    Lustration, 201 ff., 219 f., 252 f., 338, 407, 412, 443 ff.
-
-    Magic,
-      Belief in, 75 ff., 81, 84 ff., 92, 94 f., 105, 376 f., 434 ff.;
-      Cord, 86 f., 202, 415, 440;
-      Evil, 274;
-      Imitative, 354;
-      Protective, 85, 449
-    Magic staff, 335 f.
-    Magic test, 337 f.
-    Magical offering, 440
-    Magical transference, 201 ff.
-    Magician, 84 f., 330, 378
-    _Man, E.H._, 79
-    Mankind and human nature, 471 f., 475
-    _Mannhardt, W._., 249, 292, 441
-    Märchen, 270 ff.;
-      of adventure, 279 f., 395;
-      Celestial, 275 f., 395;
-      of devourment, 277 ff.
-    Märchen-cycle, 380
-    Märchen-hero, 356, 375 ff., 387, 459
-    Märchen-myth, 270 ff., 387 ff., 413, 458 f.
-    Mark community, 309 f.
-    Market, 327, 463
-    Marriage, 12, 34 ff., 89;
-      by barter, 157;
-      of brother and sister, 118, 148 ff.;
-      by capture, 153 ff., 163, 167 f.;
-      by contract, 158 f.;
-      by gift, 158 f.;
-      Group, 38, 41 f., 44 f., 48, 168 ff., 316;
-      Modes of contracting, 155 ff., 172 f.;
-      Pirrauru, 168 ff.;
-      by purchase, 158 f.;
-      Single, 51
-    Mask, 95, 105, 135, 262 ff.
-    Maternal descent, 35 ff., 47, 146 ff., 165, 173 f., 196 f., 314
-    Maternal rule, 35, 314
-    _Martin, Rudolf_, 50
-    _McLennan, J. F._, 145, 153
-    Meal-times of primitive man, 24
-    Medicine-men, 83 f., 89, 105, 180, 223, 233, 254 f., 330, 341, 409
-    Memorial art, 24, 107
-    Men's club, 41, 47, 119, 131, 173 f., 255 f., 312, 409
-    Metempsychosis, 412 ff.
-    Migrations, 111, 287 f.;
-      Folk, 126 ff., 164, 288 f.;
-      Tribal, 120, 138, 191, 488
-    Military organization, 310
-    Milk industry, 137 f., 289, 296 f.
-    Mimic play, 459, 462, 490
-    Monogamy, 34, 36, 43, 46 ff., 89, 114, 167, 169 ff., 311 ff.
-    Monotheism, 77, 225, 231, 353 ff.
-    Monumental edifices, 452, 490
-    Morality, Primitive, 114 f.
-    _Morgan, Lewes_, 38, 152
-    Mother-right, 34 ff., 314
-    _Müller, Max_, 225
-    Mummy, 207
-    Mura-mura legends, 176 f., 231
-    Murder, 339 f., 346
-    Music, 95 ff., 264 ff., 449, 456 f., 464, 466 ff.;
-      Absolute, 468
-    Musical instruments, 97 ff., 265 f., 457, 468
-    Mystery cults, 420 ff., 502
-    Myth, 75 f., 375 f., 384 ff., 413 ff.;
-      Celestial, 76, 80, 91, 130 f., 134 ff., 140, 189, 220, 246,
-        258, 355 ff., 419;
-      Cosmogonic, 385 ff., 404;
-      and cult, 414 ff.;
-      Märchen-, 270 ff., 387 ff., 413, 458f.;
-      Theogonic, 384 ff.;
-      of the underworld, 397 ff.;
-      of world destruction, 391 f.
-    Mythical hero, 379
-    Mythology, Nature, 76
-
-    Narrative, 270 ff.
-    Nature, Man of, 11 ff.
-    Nature-demons, 370
-    Nature-mythology, 76
-    Neanderthal skull, 14 f.
-    Nirvana, 499
-    Nomads, 120, 138, 419
-    Novel, Short, 464
-    Numbers,
-      Sacred, 305, 407;
-      Social organization and, 304 ff.
-
-    Oath, 335 f.
-    Offering, 432 ff.
-    Oracle, 442
-    Ordeal, 336 f.
-    Orders, 255
-    Organization,
-      Military, 310;
-      Political, 302 ff.;
-      Tribal, 117 ff., 132, 140 ff., 152
-    Ornamentation, 100 ff.
-    Other-world ideas, 394 ff., 410, 420 ff., 431, 495, 502
-
-    Painting, 106 ff., 456, 468
-    Palace, Royal, 452, 454, 481
-    _Pasha, Emin_, 114
-    Passion plays, 463, 465
-    Particular gods, 362 f.
-    Paternal descent, 37, 146 ff., 173 f., 196 f., 314
-    Paternal rule, 35, 314
-    Patriarchal family, 313
-    Patriarchal period, 35 f.
-    Penal law, 338 ff.
-    Penitential psalm, 430 f.
-    Personalities, Age of, 320
-    Personality, 489, 505
-    Phallus cult, 212
-    Philology, 2, 53, 490
-    Philosophy, 354, 496, 504, 518;
-      of history, 519 ff.
-    Pirrauru marriage, 168 ff.
-    Plant totem, 134, 176, 184, 188 ff., 192, 199, 214, 245
-    Platform disposal of the dead, 216, 405
-    Plough, 134, 138, 248, 289 ff., 298
-    Poison,
-      Arrow, 26;
-      Plant, 25 f.
-    Poetry, 267 ff., 457
-    Pole-houses, 261
-    Political organization, 302 ff.
-    Polyandry, 42 ff., 167, 171 f., 313
-    Polygamy, 41 f., 47, 166 ff., 312
-    Polygyny, 42 ff., 139, 167, 170 ff., 312, 315 f.
-    Polytheism, 80, 355, 357, 371
-    Pottery, 30, 80, 135, 259 f.
-    Praise, Hymns of, 430
-    Prayer, 427 ff.;
-      Penitential, 430 f.;
-      of petition, 427 f., 439;
-      of thanksgiving, 429 f., 439
-    Prehistory, 13 f., 451
-    _Preusz, K. Th._, 242, 435, 464
-    Priesthood, 321, 330, 332
-    Priests' Code, 200, 210, 329, 345, 432
-    Primitive man, Discovery of, 11 ff.
-    Property, 47, 114, 120, 138, 173 f., 195 f.;
-      Common, 248, 317 ff.;
-      Private, 298, 300, 317 ff.
-    Prophetic signs, 442
-    Promiscuity, 36, 38, 169, 181
-    Prohibition of certain foods, 199 f.
-    Protection, Right to, 340 ff.
-    Protective magic, 85
-    Psyche, 205 f., 212 ff., 217, 220, 241, 405
-    Punishment, 338, 342, 404, 406 f., 431;
-      and sacrifice, 433
-    Puppet show, 464 f.
-    Purgatory, 407 f., 412
-    Purification, 201 f., 219 f., 499;
-      Rites of, 201, 443 f.
-      _Cf._ Lustration.
-    Pygmies, 19, 77 ff., 115, 353
-
-    Rain-magic, 253, 268
-    Rain priests, 249, 263, 268
-    Rattle, 100, 266
-    _Ratzel, Friedrich_, 5
-    Realm of the dead, 396 f., 400
-    Reconciliation, 432
-    Redemption, 410, 447, 495 f.;
-      Legends of, 381;
-      Religions of, 496
-    Reformation, 492
-    Refrain, 96 f., 104
-    Relationship, Malayan system of, 38 ff.
-    Religion, Origin of, 75 ff., 282 ff.
-    Religious ideals, 410
-    Renaissance, 455 f., 491 f., 517
-    Retribution, Idea of, 401, 408, 411, 413
-    Revelation, 518
-    Rhythm, 103 f., 268 f.
-    Rights, Equality of, 320
-    Rings, Exchange of, 87
-    Root languages, 68 f.
-    _Roskoff, G.G._, 75
-    _Rousseau, J.J._, 12
-    Rulership, Individual, 287, 313
-
-    Sacredness, 195 f., 199
-    Sacrifice, 253 f., 295 f., 427, 431 ff.;
-      Animal, 210 f., 433 f.;
-      to the dead, 238 ff., 253 f., 433 f.;
-      Human, 210, 433 ff., 440, 447;
-      of reconciliation, 432
-    Sacrificial animal, 210 f.
-    Sacrificial feast, 446 f.
-    Saga,
-      Deity, 384 f.;
-      Flood, 391 ff.;
-      Hero, 228, 356, 374 ff.
-    Saints,
-      Legends of, 381 ff., 464;
-      Worship of, 178 f.
-    Sanctification, 427;
-      Ceremonies of, 442
-    Sanctuary, 341 f.
-    _Sarasin, F. and P._, 19, 49, 75, 90
-    Satisfaction of wants, 448 f.
-    Satyric play, 464
-    Scapegoat, 203
-    Scarab, 229
-    _Schmalz, E._, 60
-    _Schmidt, Wilhelm_, 78 f., 114, 353
-    _Schultze, Leonard_, 88
-    _Schweinfurth, Georg_, 18 f., 77
-    Science, 449, 489 f.
-    _Scott, W. R._, 60
-    Sculpture, 261, 453 ff., 490
-    Secret barter, 10, 21, 31 ff., 55, 120
-    Secret societies, 254 ff.
-    Secondary wives, 45, 168 ff., 316
-    Self-education, 519
-    Self-mutilation, 294 f., 434
-    Sex totemism, 119, 176, 182 f., 186 f., 190, 193
-    Sexual organs and the soul, 211, 434, 445
-    Shadow soul, 192 f., 205 f.
-    Shamans, 84
-    Shame, Feeling of, 88
-    Shield, 125, 131
-    Sickness, 81, 83 ff., 90, 494;
-      Demons of, 82 f., 105, 236
-    Sin offering, 432 f.
-    Single marriage, 51
-    Skull, 217;
-      Neanderthal, 14 f.
-    Slave, 154, 156
-    Slavery, 139
-    Smoke, 220
-    Snake society, 256, 269
-    Social psychology, 4
-    Society, Primitive, 50 ff.
-    Soil, Cults of the, 245 ff.
-    Solstice festivals, 420
-    Solstice fire, 202
-    Song, 95 ff., 104, 267 ff., 449, 458, 460 ff.;
-      of praise, 430;
-      Work, 268 f., 461
-    Soul,
-      Breath, 192 f., 205 ff., 212 f., 242 f.;
-      Corporeal, 82, 191 f., 205 ff., 211 ff.; 216, 221 f., 406;
-      Ideas of the, 190 ff., 394 ff.;
-      and kidneys, 209, 211 f.;
-      Shadow, 192 f., 205 f.;
-      Vehicles of the, 207 ff., 211 f., 221, 434 f., 445
-    Soul animals, 83, 190 ff., 214, 368, 412 f.
-    Soul belief, 204 ff.
-    Soul cults, 421 f., 502
-    Souls,
-      Exchange of, 242;
-      Transmigration of, 412 ff.
-    Sound and meaning, 65 ff.
-    Spear, 125
-    Speech, 496 f.
-    _Spencer and Gillen, Messrs._, 18, 38, 188
-    _Spencer, Herbert_, 187, 205, 231
-    Spirit villages, 396
-    Sprinkling, 203, 445 f.
-    State, 8 f., 119, 285 f., 287, 303, 472 ff.;
-      Church and, 491 f.;
-      Divine, 329, 373, 388, 411, 416, 494;
-      Forms of the, 349, 517
-    _Steinen, Karl von den_, 102
-    _Steinthal, H._, 2, 68
-    Stipulation, 334
-    Stringed instruments, 97 f., 266
-    _Stuhlmann, Franz_, 114
-    Substitute, 435
-    Sun, Eclipse of the, 81
-    Sweat-lodges, 252
-    Sword, 131, 299
-    Symbolism, 334, 422, 447
-    Symmetry, 103 f.
-
-    Taboo, 131 f., 193 ff., 203, 219, 341;
-      on foods, 199 f.;
-      on relations by marriage, 196 ff.
-    Talisman, 89, 104, 227 ff.
-    Tattooing, 21, 87, 131, 135, 255, 257 ff., 451
-    Teleology, 522
-    Temple, 195, 324 f., 450, 452 f., 465, 467, 481
-    Theft, 114;
-      of women, 46
-    Theogony, 384 ff., 417
-    Thinking, Primitive, 68 ff.
-    Tippamalku, 168 ff.
-    Torture, 344
-    Totem, 8, 116 ff., 203 f., 412 f.;
-      Inanimate, 177, 185 ff.
-    Totem animal, 117 ff., 131 ff., 143, 188 ff., 193, 200, 260, 412 f.
-    Totem friendships, 162 ff.
-    Totem poles, 143 f., 232 ff.
-    Totemism, 116 ff.;
-      Animal, 117 ff., 131 ff., 138 f., 175 ff., 193, 214, 245, 412 f.;
-      Conception, 176, 180 ff., 189 f., 191, 193;
-      Individual, 119, 175, 178 ff., 187, 189 f.;
-      Plant, 134, 176, 184, 188 ff., 192, 199, 214, 245;
-      Sex, 119, 176, 180, 182 f., 186 f., 190, 193;
-      Tribal, 177 ff., 187
-    Trade, 121, 300 f., 452
-    Transference, Magical, 201 ff.
-    Transformation into animals, 133, 272 ff., 412 f.
-    Transmigration of souls, 412 ff.
-    Tribal division, 117 f., 141, 143, 159 ff.
-    Tribal migrations, 120, 138, 191, 488
-    Tribal organization, 117 ff., 132, 140 ff. 152
-    Tribal warfare, 119 f., 123, 125
-    _Tylor, Edward_, 205
-
-    Underworld, 397 ff., 402 ff.
-    Unity of the world, 483
-    Universalism, 492
-    _Usener, Hermann_, 361 f.
-
-    Vegetation ceremonies, 135 f., 189, 249, 418 ff.
-    Vegetation cults, 135, 243 ft, 250 f., 294, 418 ff.
-    Vegetation demons, 441
-    Vessels, 30, 49
-    _Vico, G._, 516
-    Vision, 407, 442
-    Vocations, Differentiation of, 311, 321 ff.
-    Votive offering, 438
-
-    Wagon, 292 ff.
-    Wants,
-      Freedom from, 110, 114;
-      Satisfaction of, 448 f.
-    Warfare, 33, 111, 209;
-      of the gods, 370, 388 f., 404 f.
-    Water,
-      Lustration by, 201 ff., 219 f., 252 f., 338, 443 ff.;
-      Trial by, 338
-    Weapons, 26 ff., 120, 124 f., 131, 133, 299
-    Week, 305
-    _Wergild_, 163, 339
-    _Westermann, D._, 58, 68
-    Wheel, 291 f.
-    Wife,
-      Chief, 45 f., 168 ff., 316;
-      Secondary, 45, 168 ff., 316
-    Wind instruments, 265 f.
-    Witchcraft, 338
-    Work-songs, 268 f., 461
-    World, Unity of the, 483
-    World culture, 477, 484 ff., 512
-    World destruction, Myths of, 391 f.
-    World empires, 476, 478 ff., 484 ff., 493, 512
-    World history, 474 f., 478, 509 ff.
-    World language, 487, 493
-    World religions, 10, 477, 491, 494 ff.
-    Writing, 486 f.
-
-
-
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+<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 44138 ***</div>
 <h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, Elements of Folk Psychology, by Wilhelm
 Wundt, Translated by Edward Leroy Schaub</h1>
-<p>This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
-almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
-re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
-with this eBook or online at <a
-href="http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></p>
-<p>Title: Elements of Folk Psychology</p>
-<p>       Outline of a Psychological History of the Development of Mankind</p>
-<p>Author: Wilhelm Wundt</p>
-<p>Release Date: November 8, 2013  [eBook #44138]</p>
-<p>Language: English</p>
-<p>Character set encoding: UTF-8</p>
-<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ELEMENTS OF FOLK PSYCHOLOGY***</p>
 <p>&nbsp;</p>
-<h4>E-text prepared by<br />
-    Clare Graham, Heather Strickland, and Marc D'Hooghe<br />
-    (<a href="http://www.freeliterature.org">http://www.freeliterature.org</a>)<br />
-    from page images generously made available by<br />
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@@ -19059,360 +19042,6 @@ Writing, <a href='#Page_486'>486</a> f.<br />
 
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-The Project Gutenberg eBook, Elements of Folk Psychology, by Wilhelm
-Wundt, Translated by Edward Leroy Schaub
-
-
-This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
-almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
-re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
-with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
-
-
-
-
-
-Title: Elements of Folk Psychology
-       Outline of a Psychological History of the Development of Mankind
-
-
-Author: Wilhelm Wundt
-
-
-
-Release Date: November 8, 2013  [eBook #44138]
-
-Language: English
-
-Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII)
-
-
-***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ELEMENTS OF FOLK PSYCHOLOGY***
-
-
-E-text prepared by Clare Graham, Heather Strickland, and Marc D'Hooghe
-(http://www.freeliterature.org) from page images generously made available
-by Internet Archive (https://archive.org)
-
-
-
-Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
-      file which includes the original illustrations.
-      See 44138-h.htm or 44138-h.zip:
-      (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/44138/44138-h/44138-h.htm)
-      or
-      (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/44138/44138-h.zip)
-
-
-      Images of the original pages are available through
-      Internet Archive. See
-      https://archive.org/details/elementsoffolkps010475mbp
-
-
-Transcriber's note:
-
-      Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_).
-
-      A carat character is used to denote superscription. A
-      single character following the carat is superscripted
-      (example: C^1).
-
-
-
-
-
-ELEMENTS OF FOLK PSYCHOLOGY
-
-Outlines of a Psychological History of the Development of Mankind
-
-by
-
-WILHELM WUNDT
-
-Authorized Translation by Edward Leroy Schaub, Ph.D.
-
-Professor of Philosophy in Northwestern University
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-London: George Allen & Unwin Ltd.
-New York: The Macmillan Company
-
-_First published: July 1916._
-_Revised edition: April 1921._
-
-
-
-
-TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE
-
-
-The keen interest which the present age is manifesting in problems
-connected with the interpretation of human experience is no less a
-result than it is a precondition of the fruitful labours of individual
-scholars. Prominent among these is the distinguished author of the
-volume which is herewith rendered accessible to English readers. The
-impetus which Professor Wundt has given to the philosophical and
-psychological studies of recent years is a matter of common knowledge.
-Many of those who are contributing richly to these fields of thought
-received their stimulus from instruction directly enjoyed in the
-laboratory and the classrooms of Leipzig. But even more than to Wundt,
-the teacher, is the world indebted to Wundt, the investigator and the
-writer. The number and comprehensiveness of this author's publications,
-as well as their range of subjects, are little short of amazing. To
-gauge the extent of their influence would require an examination of a
-large part of current philosophical and psychological literature. No
-small measure of this influence, however, must be credited to those
-whose labours have made possible the appearance of Wundt's writings
-in other tongues. Of the English translations, we owe the first to
-Professors Creighton and Titchener. Succeeding their translation of
-the "Lectures on Human and Animal Psychology," came the publication,
-in English, of the first volume of the "Principles of Physiological
-Psychology," of the two briefer treatises, "Outlines of Psychology" and
-"Introduction to Psychology," and, in the meantime, of the valuable
-work on "Ethics."
-
-Though Professor Wundt first won recognition through his investigations
-in physiology, it was his later and more valuable contributions to
-physiological psychology, as well as to logic, ethics, epistemology,
-and metaphysics, that gained for him his place of eminence in the world
-of scholarship. One may hazard the prophecy, however, that the final
-verdict of history will ascribe to his latest studies, those in folk
-psychology, a significance not inferior to that which is now generally
-conceded to the writings of his earlier years. The _Voelkerpsychologie_
-is a truly monumental work. The analysis and interpretation of
-language, art, mythology, and religion, and the criticisms of rival
-theories and points of view, which occupy its five large volumes of
-over three thousand pages, are at once so judicial and so suggestive
-that they may not be neglected by any serious student of the social
-mind. The publication of the _Voelkerpsychologie_ made necessary a
-number of defensive and supplementary articles. Two of these, in a
-somewhat revised form, together with an early article on "The Aim and
-Methods of Folk Psychology," and an additional essay on "Pragmatic
-and Genetic Psychology of Religion," were published in 1911 under
-the title, _Probleme der Voelkerpsychologie_. Finally, in 1912, there
-appeared the book which we are now presenting in translation, the
-_Elemente der Voelkerpsychologie_. As regards the difference in method
-and character between the _Elemente_ and the _Voelkerpsychologie_,
-nothing need be added to what may be gleaned from the author's Preface
-and Introduction to this, his latest, work. Here, too, Professor
-Wundt indicates his conception of the nature and the problem of folk
-psychology, a fuller discussion of which may be found both in the
-_Voelkerpsychologie_ and in the first essay of the _Probleme_.
-
-He who attempts to sketch the "Outlines of a Psychological History of
-the Development of Mankind" necessarily incurs a heavy indebtedness,
-as regards his material, to various more specialized sciences. The
-success with which the data have been sifted in the present instance
-and the extent to which the author has repaid the special sciences in
-terms of serviceable principles of interpretation, must, to a certain
-extent, be left to the determination of those who are engaged in these
-specific fields. Human beliefs and institutions, however, as well as
-all products of art and modes of labour, of food-getting, of marriage,
-of warfare, etc.--in short, all elements of human culture--even though
-subject to natural conditions of various sorts, are essentially mental
-processes or the expression of psychical activities. Hence no theory
-relating to these phenomena is acceptable, or even respectable,
-that does violence to well-established psychological principles.
-The unpsychological character of many of the hypotheses that still
-abound in ethnological, sociological, and historical literature, in
-itself renders necessary such discussions as those comprised within
-the present volume. One of the very valuable, even though not novel,
-features of the "Elements," therefore, is its clear exposure of the
-untenability of rationalistic and other similarly erroneous types of
-explanation.
-
-The dependence of folk psychology, as conceived by Professor Wundt,
-upon general psychology--or, in this particular case, upon the author's
-system of physiological psychology--will be apparent. It should not
-be overlooked, however, that the examination of the mental processes
-that underlie the various forms in which social experience comes to
-expression involves a procedure which supplements, in an important
-way, the traditional psychological methods. More than this. Wundt's
-_Voelkerpsychologie_ is the result of a conviction that there are
-certain mental phenomena which may not be interpreted satisfactorily by
-any psychology which restricts itself to the standpoint of individual
-consciousness. Fundamental to the conclusions of the present volume,
-therefore, is the assumption of the reality of collective minds. For
-Professor Wundt, however, this assumption is not in the least of a
-dogmatic character. On the contrary, its acceptance is necessitated by
-the failure of opposing theories, and its validity is sustained by the
-fact that it renders intelligible a large and important body of facts.
-If this be admitted, it follows that folk psychology supplements not
-merely the methods of individual or physiological psychology, but also
-its principles and its laws. As yet, however, the prevailing tendency
-of psychologists, both in England and in America, is to retain the
-point of view of individual consciousness even when dealing with those
-phenomena which Wundt considers to be creations of the social group.
-That this occurs so frequently without any apparent thought of the
-necessity of justifying the procedure is--whether the position itself
-be right or wrong--an illustration of the barriers offered by a foreign
-language.
-
-For the general reader who professes no acquaintance with the nature or
-the viewpoint of psychological science, it may not be amiss to remark
-that the author aims, in this book, to present, not a discussion of
-the philosophical validity of ideas or of the ethical or religious
-value of customs and institutions, but merely a descriptive account
-of human development. The "Elements" is an attempt to answer the
-question as to what beliefs and practices actually prevailed at the
-various stages of human development and what psychological explanation
-may be given of them. Such an investigation is quite distinct from an
-inquiry as to whether these beliefs and practices are justifiable. It
-is equally foreign, moreover, to the question as to whether the ideas
-that are entertained may be held either to bring us into relation with
-trans-subjective realities or to acquaint us with a truth that is, in
-any significant sense, eternal. However sacred or profane, true or
-delusional, experiences may be to the philosopher, the theologian, or
-the man of practical affairs, to him who is psychologizing they all
-alike are mental phenomena demanding, not evaluation, but observation,
-analysis, and reduction to mental laws. Wundt explicitly emphasizes
-the fact that his psychological account neither represents nor renders
-unnecessary a philosophy of history; similarly, it may be added, the
-present work is neither the equivalent nor the negation of ethics,
-jurisprudence, theology, epistemology, or metaphysics. Nevertheless,
-while the distinctions which we have suggested should be strictly kept
-in mind, a just appreciation of the significance of such books as the
-"Elements" demands that we recognize their notable value to all the
-various philosophical disciplines. Works of this sort succeed above all
-others in stimulating and sustaining a keen empirical interest on the
-part of philosophy, and they supply the latter with a fund of carefully
-selected and psychologically interpreted facts. Doubtless it is in
-connection with ethics and the science of religion that these services
-are most obvious. Even the epistemologist, however, will find much
-that is suggestive in Wundt's account of the origin and development of
-language, the characteristics and content of primitive thought, and
-the relation of mythological and religious ideas to the affective and
-conative life. That the _Voelkerpsychologie_ may contribute largely
-toward the solution of metaphysical problems has been strikingly
-demonstrated by Professor Royce in his profound volumes on "The Problem
-of Christianity."
-
-The trials of the translator have been recounted too often any longer
-to require detailed mention. President G. Stanley Hall has suggested
-that the German proclivity to the use of long, involved sentences,
-loaded with qualifying words and phrases, and with compounds and
-supplementary clauses of every description, may perhaps be said to
-have the merit of rendering language somewhat correspondent with the
-actual course of thought. The significance of this statement can be
-appreciated by no one quite so keenly as by a translator, for whom the
-very fact which President Hall mentions causes many German sentences to
-be objects of despair. In the present instance, the endeavour has been
-to reproduce as faithfully as possible both the meaning and the spirit
-of the original, while yet taking such liberties as seemed necessary
-either to clarify certain passages or to avoid any serious offence to
-the English language. In a number of cases, no absolutely satisfactory
-equivalent of the German term seemed available. The very expression
-'folk psychology,' for example, may scarcely be said to commend itself
-in every respect. Its use seemed unescapable, however, in view of
-the fact that the author, in his Introduction, expressly rejects the
-terms _Sozialpsychologie_ and _Gemeinschaftspsychologie_ in favour of
-_Voelkerpsychologie. Bildende Kunst_ has been rendered 'formative art,'
-not in the belief that this translation is wholly unobjectionable, but
-because it seemed preferable to all possible alternatives, such as
-'plastic,' 'shaping,' or 'manual' art. Those who are familiar with, or
-who will take notice of, the very precise meaning which the present
-author gives to the terms _Maerchen, Sage, Legende,_ and _Mythus_ will
-understand without explanation our frequent use of the word 'saga'
-and the necessity of the term 'maerchen' in the translation. Wundt has
-always attached great significance to the distinctions which he has
-drawn between the various forms of the myth, and, more especially,
-to his contention that the earliest and, in a sense, the progenitor
-of these was the maerchen. The crying need of exact definition and
-of clear thinking in a field so confused as that of mythology led
-him, on one occasion, to enter a plea for a clear-cut and consistent
-terminology such as that which he was attempting to maintain (_vide
-Voelkerpsychologie, Band V, Zweiter Teil, Zweite Auflage, s._ 33). In
-this instance again, therefore, it seemed best to give to the author's
-own terms a preference over words which, while more familiar to the
-English reader, are less suited to convey the precise meaning intended.
-
-The most pleasant of the translator's duties consists in acknowledging
-the very material assistance which he has received from his wife, whose
-preparation of an enlarged index for this English edition is but the
-last of many services which she has rendered in connection with the
-present undertaking.
-
-
-EDWARD LEROY SCHAUB.
-
-
-NORTHWESTERN UNIVERSITY,
-
-EVANSTON, ILLINOIS,
-
-_October_ 1915.
-
-
-
-
-PREFACE
-
-
-This volume pursues a different method, in its treatment of the
-problems of folk psychology, from that employed in my more extensive
-treatment of the subject. Instead of considering successively the main
-forms of expression of the folk mind, the present work studies the
-phenomena, so far as possible, synchronously, exhibiting their common
-conditions and their reciprocal relations. Even while engaged on my
-earlier task I had become more and more convinced that a procedure of
-this latter sort was required as its supplement. Indeed, I believed
-that the chief purpose of investigations in folk psychology must
-be found in a synthetic survey. The first prerequisite of such a
-survey is, of course, a separate examination of each of the various
-fields. The history of the development of the physical organism aims
-to understand not merely the genesis of the particular organs but
-primarily their co-operation and the correlation of their functions. An
-analogous purpose should underlie an account of the mental development
-of any human community and, finally, of mankind itself. In addition to
-the problem of the relations of the separate processes to one another,
-however, we must in this case face also the broader question as to
-whether or not mental development is at all subject to law. This it
-is, therefore, that the sub-title of the present volume is intended to
-suggest. That we can be concerned only with outlines, moreover, and not
-with an exhaustive presentation of details, follows from the very fact
-that our aim is a synthetic survey. An exhaustive presentation would
-again involve us in a more or less detached investigation of single
-problems. A briefer exposition, on the other hand, which limits itself
-to arranging the main facts along lines suggested by the subject-matter
-as a whole, is, without doubt, better adapted both to present a clear
-picture of the development, and to indicate its general amenability to
-law, the presence of which even the diversity of events cannot conceal.
-
-This being my main purpose, I believed that I might at once reject
-the thought of giving the various facts a proportionate degree of
-attention. In the case of the better known phenomena, it appeared
-sufficient to sketch their place in the general development. That
-which was less familiar, however, or was still, perhaps, generally
-unknown, seemed to me to require a more detailed discussion. Hence the
-following pages deal at some length with the forms of original tribal
-organization and of the consummation of marriage, with soul, demon, and
-totem cults, and with various other phenomena of a somewhat primitive
-culture. On the other hand, they describe in barest outline the social
-movements that reach over into historical times, such as the founding
-of States and cities, the origin of legal systems, and the like. No
-inference, of course, should be drawn from this with regard to the
-relative importance of the phenomena themselves. Our procedure, in this
-matter, has been governed by practical considerations alone.
-
-The above remark concerning the less familiar and that which is as yet
-unknown, will already have indicated that folk psychology in general,
-and particularly a history of development in terms of folk psychology,
-such as this book aims to give, are as yet forced to rely largely
-on suppositions and hypotheses, if they are not to lose the thread
-that unites the details. Questions similar to the ones which we have
-just mentioned regarding the beginnings of human society, or others,
-which, though belonging to a later development, nevertheless still
-fall within the twilight dawn of history--such, for example, as those
-concerning the origin of gods and of religion, the development of myth,
-the sources and the transformations in meaning of the various forms
-of cult, etc.--are, of course, as yet largely matters of dispute. In
-cases of this sort, we are for the most part dealing not so much with
-facts themselves as with hypotheses designed to interpret facts. And
-yet it must not be forgotten that folk psychology rests on precisely
-the same experiential basis, as regards these matters, as do all other
-empirical sciences. Its position in this respect is similar, more
-particularly, to that of history, with which it frequently comes into
-touch in dealing with these problems of origin. The hypotheses of folk
-psychology never refer to a background of things or to origins that
-are by nature inaccessible to experiential knowledge; they are simply
-assumptions concerning a number of conjectured empirical facts that,
-for some reason or other, elude positive detection. When, for example,
-we assume that the god-idea resulted from a fusion of the hero ideal
-with the previously existing belief in demons, this is an hypothesis,
-since the direct transition of a demon into a god can nowhere be
-pointed out with absolute certainty. Nevertheless, the conjectured
-process moves on the factual plane from beginning to end. The same is
-true, not merely of many of the problems of folk psychology, but in
-the last analysis of almost all questions relating to the beginning
-of particular phenomena. In such cases, the result is seldom based on
-actually given data--these are inaccessible to direct observation,
-leaving psychological probability as our only guide. That is to say,
-we are driven to that hypothesis which is in greatest consonance with
-the sum total of the known facts of individual and of folk psychology.
-It is this empirical task, constituting a part of psychology and, at
-the same time, an application of it, that chiefly differentiates a
-psychological history of development, such as the following work aims
-briefly to present, from a philosophy of history. In my opinion, the
-basis of a philosophy of history should henceforth be a psychological
-history of development, though the latter should not intrude upon the
-particular problems of the former. The concluding remarks of our final
-chapter attempt, in a few sentences, to indicate this connection of a
-psychological history of development with a philosophy of historical
-development, as it appears from the point of view of the general
-relation of psychology to philosophical problems.
-
-
-W. WUNDT.
-
-LEIPZIG,
-
-_March_ 31, 1912.
-
-
-
-
-CONTENTS
-
-     TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE
-
-     PREFACE
-
-     INTRODUCTION History and task of folk psychology--Its relation
-     to ethnology--Analytic and synthetic methods of exposition--Folk
-     psychology as a psychological history of the development of
-     mankind--Division into four main periods.
-
-
-     CHAPTER I--PRIMITIVE MAN
-
-     1. THE DISCOVERY OF PRIMITIVE MAN Early philosophical
-     hypotheses--Prehistoric remains--Schweinfurth's discovery of the
-     Pygmies of the Upper Congo--The Negritos of the Philippines, the
-     inland tribes of Malacca, the Veddahs of Ceylon.
-
-     2. THE CULTURE OF PRIMITIVE MAN IN ITS EXTERNAL EXPRESSIONS Dress,
-     habitation, food, weapons--Discovery of bow and arrow--Acquisition
-     of fire--Relative significance of the concept 'primitive.'
-
-     3. THE ORIGIN OF MARRIAGE AND THE FAMILY Bachofen's "Mother-right"
-     and the hypothesis of an original promiscuity--Group-marriage and
-     the Malayan system of relationship--Erroneous interpretation of
-     these phenomena--Polygyny and polyandry--The monogamy of primitive
-     peoples.
-
-     4. PRIMITIVE SOCIETY The primitive horde--Its relation to the
-     animal herd--Single family and tribe--Lack of tribal organization.
-
-     5. THE BEGINNINGS OF LANGUAGE Languages of primitive tribes of
-     to-day--The gesture-language of the deaf and dumb, and of certain
-     peoples of nature--natural gesture-language--Its syntax--General
-     conclusions drawn from gesture-language.
-
-     6. THE THINKING OF PRIMITIVE MAN The Soudan languages as examples
-     of relatively primitive modes of thinking--The so-called 'roots'
-     as words--The concrete character of primitive thought--Lack of
-     grammatical categories--Primitive man's thinking perceptual.
-
-     7. EARLIEST BELIEFS IN MAGIC AND DEMONS Indefiniteness of the
-     concept 'religion'--Polytheistic and monotheistic theories of
-     the origin of religion--Conditions among the Pygmies--Belief
-     in magic and demons as the content of primitive thought--Death
-     and sickness--The corporeal soul--Dress and objects of personal
-     adornment as instruments of magic--The causality of magic.
-
-     8. THE BEGINNINGS OF ART The art of dancing among primitive
-     peoples--Its importance as a means of magic--Its accompaniment
-     by noise-instruments---The dance-song--The beginnings of
-     musical instruments--The bull-roarer and the rattle--Primitive
-     ornamentation--Relation between the imitation of objects and
-     simple geometrical drawings (conventionalization)--The painting of
-     the Bushmen--Its nature as a memorial art.
-
-     9. THE INTELLECTUAL AND MORAL CHARACTERISTICS OF PRIMITIVE
-     MAN Freedom from wants--Significance of isolation--Capacity
-     for observation and reflection--No inferiority as to original
-     endowment demonstrable--Negative nature of the morality of
-     primitive man--Dependence upon the environment.
-
-
-     CHAPTER II--THE TOTEMIC AGE
-
-     1. THE GENERAL CHARACTER OF TOTEMISM The word 'totem'--Its
-     significance for cult--Tribal organization and the institution of
-     chieftainship--Tribal wars--Tribal ownership of land--The rise of
-     hoe-culture and of the raising of domestic animals.
-
-     2. THE STAGES OF TOTEMIC CULTURE Australian culture--Its low level
-     of economic life--Its complicated tribal organization--Perfected
-     weapons--Malayo-Polynesian culture--The origin and migrations
-     of the Malays--Celestial elements in Malayo-Polynesian
-     mythology--The culture of the American Indians and its distinctive
-     features--Perfection of totemic tribal organization--Decline of
-     totem cults--African cultures--Increased importance of cattle
-     raising--Development of despotic forms of rulership--Survivals of
-     totemism in the Asiatic world.
-
-     3. TOTEMIC TRIBAL ORGANIZATION Similarity in the tribal
-     organizations of the Australians and the American Indians--Totem
-     groups as cult associations--Retrogression in America--The totem
-     animal as a coat of arms--The principle of dual division--Systems
-     consisting of two, four, and eight groups.
-
-     4. THE ORIGIN OF EXOGAMY Unlimited and limited exogamy--Direct
-     and indirect maternal or paternal descent--Effects upon
-     marriage between relatives--Hypotheses concerning the origin of
-     exogamy--Hygienic theory--Marriage by capture.
-
-     5. MODES OF CONTRACTING MARRIAGE Marriage by peaceful
-     capture within the same kinship group--Exogamous marriage by
-     barter--Marriage by purchase and marriage by contract--Survivals
-     of marriage by capture.
-
-     6. THE CAUSES OF TOTEMIC EXOGAMY Relation of clan division to
-     totem groups--Totem friendships--Parental and traditional totem
-     alliances--The rise of exogamy with direct and with indirect
-     maternal or paternal descent.
-
-     7. THE FORMS OF POLYGAMY Origin of group-marriage--Chief wife and
-     secondary wives--Polyandry and polygyny and their combination--The
-     prevalence and causes of these forms of marriage.
-
-     8. THE DEVELOPMENTAL FORMS OF TOTEMISM Two principles of
-     classification--Tribal and individual totemism--Conception
-     and sex totemism--Animal and plant totemism--Inanimate totems
-     (churingas)--Relation to ancestor worship and to fetishism.
-
-     9. THE ORIGIN OF TOTEMIC IDEAS Theories based on names--Spencer
-     and Lang--Frazer's theory of conception totemism as the origin of
-     totemism--The animal transformations of the breath soul--Relations
-     to soul belief--Soul animals as totem animals.
-
-     10. THE LAWS OF TABOO The concept 'taboo'--The taboo in Polynesia
-     --The taboo of mother-in-law and father-in-law--Connection with
-     couvade--The sacred and the impure--Rites of purification--Fire,
-     water, and magical transference.
-
-     11. SOUL BELIEFS OF THE TOTEMIC AGE The psyche as a breath and
-     shadow soul--Its relation to the corporeal soul--Chief bearers of
-     the corporeal soul--Modes of disposition of the dead.
-
-     12. THE ORIGIN OF THE FETISH Fetishes in totem cult--Attainment of
-     independence by fetishism--Fetishes as the earliest forms of the
-     divine image--Retrogressive development of cult objects--Fetish
-     cult as a cult of magic and demons--Amulet and talisman.
-
-     13. THE ANIMAL ANCESTOR AND THE HUMAN ANCESTOR The Mura-Mura
-     legends of the Australians--The animal ancestor--Transition to the
-     human ancestor--Relation to disposal of the corpse and to cults of
-     the dead--Surviving influences of totemism in ancestor cult.
-
-     14. THE TOTEMIC CULTS Customs relating to disposition of
-     the corpse and to sacrifices to the dead--Initiation into
-     manhood--Vegetation cults--Australian Intichiuma festivals--Cults
-     of the soil at the stage of hoe-culture--Underlying factor of
-     community of labour--Unification of cult purposes and their
-     combination with incipient deity cults.
-
-     15. THE ART OF THE TOTEMIC AGE Tatooing--Ceramics--Construction
-     of dwellings--Pole-houses--The ceremonial dance--Instruments of
-     concussion and wind Instruments--Cult-songs and work-songs--The
-     maerchen-myth and its developmental forms.
-
-
-     CHAPTER III--THE AGE OF HEROES AND GODS
-
-     1. GENERAL CHARACTER OF THE HEROIC AGE Significance of the
-     individual personality--The hero an ideal human being, the god an
-     ideal hero--Changes in economic life and in society--The rise of
-     the State.
-
-     2. THE EXTERNAL CULTURE OF THE HEROIC AGE Folk migration and
-     the founding of States--Plough-culture--Breeding of domestic
-     animals--The wagon--The taming of cattle--The ox as a draught
-     animal--The production of milk--Relation of these achievements to
-     cult--Warfare and weapons--Rise of private property--Colonization
-     and trade.
-
-     3. THE DEVELOPMENT OF POLITICAL SOCIETY The place of the State
-     in the general development of society--The duodecimal and the
-     decimal systems in the organization of political society--The mark
-     community and military organization.
-
-     4. FAMILY ORGANIZATION WITHIN POLITICAL SOCIETY The joint
-     family--The patriarchal family--Paternal descent and paternal
-     dominance--Reappearance of the monogamous family.
-
-     5. THE DIFFERENTIATION OF CLASSES Common property and  private
-     property--The conquering race and the subjugated  population--
-     Distinction in rank and property--The influence of State and of
-     legal system.
-
-     6. THE DIFFERENTIATION OF VOCATIONS The priesthood as combining
-     class and vocation--Military and political activity--Agriculture
-     and the lower vocations---The gradual equalization of respect
-     accorded to vocations.
-
-     7. THE ORIGIN OF CITIES The original development of the
-     city--Castle and temple as the signs of a city--The guardian deity
-     of city and State--Secondary developments.
-
-     8. THE BEGINNINGS OF THE LEGAL SYSTEM Custom and law--Civil law as
-     the original province of law--Political and religious factors--The
-     council of elders and the chieftain--The arbitrator and the
-     appointed judge--The religious sanction of legal practices.
-
-     9. THE DEVELOPMENT OF PENAL LAW Blood revenge and its
-     replacement--Wergild--Right of sanctuary--Development of
-     imprisonment out of private custody of wrongdoer--The _Jus
-     Talionis_--Increase in complexity of rewards and punishments.
-
-     10. THE DIFFERENTIATION OF LEGAL FUNCTIONS Division of the
-     judicial function--Influence of social organization--Logical
-     classification of forms of the State lacking in genetic
-     significance--Development of constitutions out of history and
-     custom.
-
-     11. THE ORIGIN OF GODS Degeneration theories and developmental
-     theories--Hypotheses of an original monotheism or
-     polytheism--Theory based on nature-mythology--Demon theory of
-     Usener--Characteristics distinguishing the god from the demon and
-     the hero--The god as the result of a fusion of ideal hero and
-     demon.
-
-     12. THE HERO SAGA The hero of saga and the hero of maerchen--The
-     purely mythical and the historical hero saga--Magic in maerchen and
-     saga--The religious legend--The saint legend.
-
-     13. COSMOGONIC AND THEOGONIC MYTHS The gods as demoniacal
-     beings--Their struggle with the demons of earliest times--Myths of
-     creation--Sagas of flood and of universal conflagration--Myths of
-     world-destruction.
-
-     14. THE BELIEF IN SOULS AND IN A WORLD BEYOND Sequence of
-     ideas of the beyond--The spirit-village--The islands of
-     the blessed--Myths of the underworld--Distinction between
-     dwelling-places of souls--Elysium--The underworld and the
-     celestial regions--Purgatory--Cults of the beyond--The conception
-     of salvation--Transmigration of souls.
-
-     15. THE ORIGIN OF DEITY CULTS Relation of myth and cult--Religious
-     significance of cult--Vegetation cults--Union of cult
-     purposes--Mystery cults.
-
-     16. THE FORMS OF CULT PRACTICES Prayer--Conjuration and the prayer
-     of petition--Prayer of thanksgiving--Praise--The penitential
-     psalm--Sacrifice--Purpose of sacrifice originally magical--Jewish
-     peace-offering and sin-offering--Development of conception
-     of gift--Connection between value and sacrifice--Votive and
-     consecration gifts--Sacrifice of the first fruits--Sanctification
-     ceremonies--Means of lustration as means of sanctification--Water
-     and fire--Baptism and circumcision--Magical sanctification--Human
-     sacrifice as a means of sanctification.
-
-     17. THE ART OF THE HEROIC AGE Temple and palace--The human
-     figure as the subject of formative art--Art as generic and as
-     individualizing--The appreciation of the significant--Expression
-     of subjective mood in landscape painting--The epic--Its influence
-     upon the cult-song--The drama--Music as an accessory and as an
-     independent art.
-
-     CHAPTER IV--THE DEVELOPMENT TO HUMANITY
-
-     1. THE CONCEPT 'HUMANITY' Herder's idea of humanity as the goal of
-     history--The concepts 'mankind' and 'human nature'--Humanity as a
-     value-concept--The idea of a cultural community of mankind and its
-     developmental forms.
-
-     2. WORLD EMPIRES The empires of Egypt and of Western Asia--The
-     monarch as ruler of the world--The ruler as deity--Apotheosis
-     of deceased rulers--Underlying cause of formation of
-     empires--Disappearance of world empires from history.
-
-     3. WORLD CULTURE The world dominion of Alexander--Greek
-     as the universal language--Writing and speech as factors
-     of culture--Travel as symptomatic of culture--Hellenistic
-     world culture and its results--The culture of the
-     Renaissance--Cosmopolitanism and individualism.
-
-     4. WORLD RELIGIONS Unity of the world of gods--Cult of Aesculapius
-     and cults of the beyond--Their transition into redemption
-     cults--Buddhism and Christianity--Development of the idea of a
-     superpersonal deity--The incarnate god as the representative of
-     this deity--Three aspects of the concept 'representative.'
-
-     5. WORLD HISTORY Twofold significance of the concept
-     'history'--History as self-conscious experience--The role of
-     will in history--Prehistoric and historic periods--Influence of
-     world culture and world religions on the rise of the historical
-     consciousness--The philosophy of history--Its relation to a
-     psychological history of the development of mankind.
-
-
-     INDEX
-
-
-
-
-ELEMENTS OF FOLK PSYCHOLOGY
-
-
-
-
-INTRODUCTION
-
-
-The word '_Voelkerpsychologie_'(folk psychology) is a new compound in
-our [the German] language. It dates back scarcely farther than to about
-the middle of the nineteenth century. In the literature of this period,
-however, it appeared with two essentially different meanings. On the
-one hand, the term 'folk psychology' was applied to investigations
-concerning the relations which the intellectual, moral, and other
-mental characteristics of peoples sustain to one another, as well as
-to studies concerning the influence of these characteristics upon the
-spirit of politics, art, and literature. The aim of this work was a
-characterization of peoples, and its greatest emphasis was placed on
-those cultural peoples whose civilization is of particular importance
-to us--the French, English, Germans, Americans, etc. These were the
-questions of folk psychology that claimed attention during that period,
-particularly, to which literary history has given the name "young
-Germany." The clever essays of Karl Hillebrand on _Zeiten, Voelker und
-Menschen_ (collected in eight volumes, 1885 ff.) are a good recent
-example of this sort of investigation. We may say at the outset that
-the present work follows a radically different direction from that
-pursued by these first studies in folk psychology.
-
-Practically coincident with the appearance of these earliest studies,
-however, was a radically different use of the term 'folk psychology.'
-The mental sciences began to realize the need of a psychological
-basis; where a serviceable psychology did not exist, they felt it
-necessary to establish an independent psychological foundation for
-their work. It was particularly in connection with the problems of
-philology and mythology, and at about the middle of the century, that
-the idea gradually arose of combining into a unified whole the various
-results concerning the mental development of man as severally viewed
-by language, religion, and custom. A philosopher and a philologist,
-Lazarus and Steinthal, may claim credit for the service of having
-introduced the term 'folk psychology' to designate this new field of
-knowledge. All phenomena with which mental sciences deal are, indeed,
-creations of the social community. Language, for example, is not the
-accidental discovery of an individual; it is the product of peoples,
-and, generally speaking, there are as many different languages as there
-are originally distinct peoples. The same is true of the beginnings of
-art, of mythology, and of custom. The natural religions, as they were
-at one time called, such as the religions of Greece, Rome, and the
-Germanic peoples, are, in truth, folk religions; each of them is the
-possession of a folk community, not, of course, in all details, but in
-general outline. To us this fact has come to appear somewhat strange,
-because in our age these universal mental creations have already long
-transcended the limits of a single people. Though this is true, it does
-not imply that the folk community is not really the original source
-of these mental creations. Now, in the works of Lazarus and Steinthal
-and in the _Zeitschrift fuer Voelkerpsychologie und Sprachwissenschaft_
-edited by them and appearing in twenty volumes from 1860 on, the
-conception had not as yet, it is true, received the precise definition
-that we must give it to-day. Nevertheless, a beginning was made, and
-the new venture was successfully launched along several different
-lines. Some uncertainty still prevailed, especially with regard to the
-relation of these studies to philosophy, and as to the method which
-psychology must follow when thus carried over into a new field. It was
-only gradually, as the psychological point of view gained ground in the
-special fields of research, that this condition was improved. To-day,
-doubtless, folk psychology may be regarded as a branch of psychology
-concerning whose justification and problem there can no longer be
-dispute. Its problem relates to those mental products which are created
-by a community of human life and are, therefore, inexplicable in
-terms merely of individual consciousness, since they presuppose the
-reciprocal action of many. This will be for us the criterion of that
-which belongs to the consideration of folk psychology. A language can
-never be created by an individual. True, individuals have invented
-Esperanto and other artificial languages. Unless, however, language
-had already existed, these inventions would have been impossible.
-Moreover, none of these languages has been able to maintain itself,
-and most of them owe their existence solely to elements borrowed from
-natural languages. How, again, could a religion have been created by
-an individual? There have, indeed, been religions whose founders were
-individual men: for example, Christianity, Buddhism, and Islamism. But
-all these religions rest on earlier foundations; they are elaborations
-of religious motives arising within particular folk communities.
-Thus, then, in the analysis of the higher mental processes, folk
-psychology is an indispensable supplement to the psychology of
-individual consciousness. Indeed, in the case of some questions the
-latter already finds itself obliged to fall back on the principles
-of folk psychology. Nevertheless, it must not be forgotten that just
-as there can be no folk community apart from individuals who enter
-into reciprocal relations within it, so also does folk psychology, in
-turn, presuppose individual psychology, or, as it is usually called,
-general psychology. The former, however, is an important supplement to
-the latter, providing principles for the interpretation of the more
-complicated processes of individual consciousness. It is true that the
-attempt has frequently been made to investigate the complex functions
-of thought on the basis of mere introspection. These attempts,
-however, have always been unsuccessful. Individual consciousness is
-wholly incapable of giving us a history of the development of human
-thought, for it is conditioned by an earlier history concerning which
-it cannot of itself give us any knowledge. For this reason we must
-also reject the notion that child psychology can solve these ultimate
-problems of psychogenesis. Among cultural peoples, the child is
-surrounded by influences inseparable from the processes that arise
-spontaneously within its own consciousness. Folk psychology, however,
-in its investigation of the various stages of mental development still
-exhibited by mankind, leads us along the path of a true psychogenesis.
-It reveals well-defined primitive conditions, with transitions leading
-through an almost continuous series of intermediate steps to the more
-developed and higher civilizations. Thus, folk psychology is, in an
-important sense of the word, _genetic psychology_.
-
-In view of the general nature of the task of the science, objection
-has sometimes been raised to its being called folk psychology. For,
-the study is concerned, not merely with peoples but also with more
-restricted, as well as with more comprehensive, social groups. Family,
-group, tribe, and local community, for example, are more restricted
-associations; on the other hand, it is to the union and reciprocal
-activity of a number of peoples that the highest mental values and
-attainments owe their origin, so that, in this case, folk psychology
-really becomes a psychology of mankind. But it is self-evident that, if
-it is not to fade into indefiniteness, a term such as 'folk psychology'
-must be formulated with reference to the most important conception
-with which it has to deal. Moreover, scarcely any of the proposed
-emendations are practicable. '_Gemeinschaftspsychologie_' (community
-psychology) may easily give rise to the misconception that we are
-concerned primarily with such communities as differ from the folk
-community; _Sozialpsychologie_ (social psychology) at once reminds us
-of modern sociology, which, even in its psychological phases, usually
-deals exclusively with questions of modern cultural life. In an account
-of the total development of mental life, however--and this is the
-decisive consideration--the 'folk' is the most important collective
-concept and the one with which all others are associated. The 'folk'
-embraces families, classes, clans, and groups. These various
-communities are not excluded from the concept 'folk,' but are included
-within it. The term 'folk psychology' singles out precisely the folk
-as the decisive factor underlying the fundamental creations of the
-community.
-
-When this point of view is taken, the question, of course, arises
-whether the problem thus assigned to folk psychology is not already
-being solved by ethnology, the science of peoples, or whether it ought
-not to be so solved. But it must be borne in mind that the greatly
-enlarged scope of modern ethnology, together with the increased
-number and the deepened character of its problems, necessarily
-precludes such a psychological investigation as falls to the task of
-folk psychology. I may here be allowed to refer to one who, perhaps
-more than any other recent geographer, has called attention to this
-extension of ethnological problems--Friedrich Ratzel. In his treatise
-on anthropography and in a number of scattered essays on the cultural
-creations of peoples, Ratzel has shown that ethnology must not only
-account for the characteristics and the habitats of peoples, but
-must also investigate how peoples originated and how they attained
-their present physical and mental status. Ethnology is the science
-of the origin of peoples, of their characteristics, and of their
-distribution over the earth. In this set of problems, psychological
-traits receive a relatively subordinate place. Apparently insignificant
-art products and their modifications may be of high importance in the
-determination of former migrations, fusions, or transferences. It is
-in this way that ethnology has been of valuable service to history,
-particularly in connection with prehistoric man. The central problem
-of ethnology concerns not only the present condition of peoples, but
-the way in which they originated, changed, and became differentiated.
-Folk psychology must be based on the results of ethnology; its own
-psychological interest, however, inclines it to the problem of mental
-development. Though of diverse origins, peoples may nevertheless
-belong to the same group as regards the mental level to which they
-have attained. Conversely, peoples who are ethnologically related
-may, psychologically speaking, represent very different stages of
-mental culture. The ethnologist, for example, regards the Magyars and
-the Ostiaks of Obi as peoples of like origin. Psychologically, they
-belong to different groups: the one is a cultural people, the other
-is still relatively primitive. To the folk psychologist, however,
-'primitive' always means the psychologically primitive--not that which
-the ethnologist regards as original from the point of view of the
-genealogy of peoples. Thus, folk psychology draws upon ethnology, while
-the latter, in turn, must invoke the aid of the former in investigating
-mental characteristics. The problems of the two sciences, however, are
-fundamentally different.
-
-In fulfilling its task, folk psychology may pursue different
-methods. The course that first suggests itself is to single out one
-important phenomenon of community life after another, and to trace
-its development after the usual pattern of general psychology in its
-analysis of individual consciousness. For example, an attempt is made
-to trace the psychological development of language by the aid of the
-facts of linguistic history. This psychology of language is then
-followed by a study of the development of art, from its beginnings
-among primitive races down to its early manifestations among cultural
-peoples, at which point its description is taken up by the history
-of art. Myth and religion are similarly investigated as regards the
-development of their characteristics, their reciprocal relations, etc.
-This is a method which considers in longitudinal sections, as it were,
-the total course of the development described by folk psychology.
-For a somewhat intensive analysis this is the most direct mode of
-procedure. But it has the objection of severing mental development into
-a number of separate phases, whereas in reality these are in constant
-interrelation. Indeed, the various mental expressions, particularly
-in their earlier stages, are so intertwined that they are scarcely
-separable from one another. Language is influenced by myth, art is
-a factor in myth development, and customs and usages are everywhere
-sustained by mythological conceptions.
-
-But there is also a second path of investigation, and it is this
-which the present work adopts. It consists--to retain the image used
-above--in taking transverse instead of longitudinal sections, that
-is, in regarding the main stages of the development with which folk
-psychology is concerned in their sequence, and each in the total
-interconnection of its phenomena. Our first task, then, would be
-the investigation of _primitive man_. We must seek a psychological
-explanation of the thought, belief, and action of primitive man on
-the basis of the facts supplied by ethnology. As we proceed to more
-advanced stages, difficulties may, of course, arise with regard to
-the delimitation of the various periods; indeed, it will scarcely be
-possible to avoid a certain arbitrariness, inasmuch as the processes
-are continuous. The life of the individual person also does not fall
-into sharply distinct periods. Just as childhood, youth, and manhood
-are stages in a continuous growth, so also are the various eras in the
-development of peoples. Yet there are certain ideas, emotions, and
-springs of action about which the various phenomena group themselves.
-It is these that we must single out if the content of folk psychology
-is to be classified, with any measure of satisfaction, according to
-periods. Moreover, it should be particularly noticed that, in starting
-our discussion with primitive man, as we naturally must, the term
-'primitive' is to be taken relatively, as representing the lowest
-grade of culture, particularly of mental culture. There is no specific
-ethnological characteristic that distinguishes this primitive stage
-from those that are more advanced; it is only by reference to a number
-of psychological traits, such as are indicative of the typically
-original, that we may determine that which is primitive. Bearing in
-mind this fact, we must first describe the external traits of primitive
-culture, and then consider the psychological factors of primitive life.
-
-Of the second period in the development of civilization, we may
-safely say that in many respects it represents a newly discovered
-world. Historical accounts have nothing, to say concerning it. Recent
-ethnology alone has disclosed the phenomena here in question, having
-come upon them in widely different parts of the earth. This period
-we will call the _totemic age_. The very name indicates that we are
-concerned with the discovery of a submerged world. The word 'totem,'
-borrowed from a distant American tongue, proves by its very origin
-that our own cultural languages of Europe do not possess any word
-even approximately adequate to designate the peculiar character of
-this period. If we would define the concept of totemism as briefly
-as possible, it might perhaps be said to represent a circle of ideas
-within which the relation of animal to man is the reverse of that
-which obtains in present-day culture. In the totemic age, man does not
-have dominion over the animal, but the animal rules man. Its deeds
-and activities arouse wonder, fear, and adoration. The souls of the
-dead dwell within it; it thus becomes the ancestor of man. Its flesh
-is prohibited to the members of the group called by its name, or,
-conversely, on ceremonial occasions, the eating of the totem-animal
-may become a sanctifying cult activity. No less does the totemic idea
-affect the organization of society, tribal division, and the forms
-of marriage and family. Yet the elements that reach over from the
-thought-world of this period into later times are but scanty fragments.
-Such, for example, are the sacred animals of the Babylonians,
-Egyptians, and other ancient cultural peoples, the prophetic
-significance attached to the qualities or acts of animals, and other
-magical ideas connected with particular animals.
-
-Totemic culture is succeeded--through gradual transitions--by a _third_
-period, which we will call the _age of heroes and gods_. Initial steps
-towards the latter were already taken during the preceding period,
-in the development of a rulership of individuals within the tribal
-organization. This rulership, at first only temporary in character,
-gradually becomes permanent. The position of the chieftain, which
-was of only minor importance in the totemic age, gains in power when
-the tribal community, under the pressure of struggles with hostile
-tribes, assumes a military organization. Society thus develops into the
-_State_. War, as also the guidance of the State in times of peace,
-calls out men who tower far above the stature of the old chieftains,
-and who, at the same time, are sharply distinguished from one another
-through qualities that stamp them as typical personalities. In place of
-the eldest of the clan and the tribal chieftain of the totemic period,
-this new age gives rise to the _hero_. The totemic age possesses
-only fabulous narratives; these are credited myths dealing, not
-infrequently, with animal ancestors who have introduced fire, taught
-the preparation of food, etc. The hero who is exalted as a leader in
-war belongs to a different world, a world faithfully mirrored in the
-heroic song or epic. As regards their station in life, the heroes of
-Homer are still essentially tribal chieftains, but the enlarged field
-of struggle, together with the magnified characteristics which it
-develops, exalt the leader into a hero. With the development of poetry,
-the forms of language also become modified and enriched. The epic is
-followed by formative and dramatic art. All this is at the same time
-closely bound up with the origin of the State, which now displaces
-the more primitive tribal institutions of the preceding period. When
-this occurs, different customs and cults emerge. With national heroes
-and with States, national religions come into being; and, since these
-religions no longer direct the attention merely to the immediate
-environment, to the animal and plant world, but focus it primarily upon
-the heavens, there is developed the idea of a higher and more perfect
-world. As the hero is the ideal man, so the god becomes the ideal hero,
-and the celestial world, the ideally magnified terrestrial world.
-
-This era of heroes and gods is finally succeeded by a _fourth_
-period. A national State and a national religion do not represent the
-permanent limits of human striving. National affiliations broaden into
-humanistic associations. Thus there begins a development in which we
-of the present still participate; it cannot, therefore, be referred to
-otherwise than as an age that is coming to be. We may speak merely of
-an advance _toward_ humanity, not of a development _of_ humanity. This
-advance, however, begins immediately with the fall of the barriers
-that divide peoples, particularly with regard to their religious
-views. For this reason, it is particularly the transcendence of the
-more restricted folk circle on the part of religions that constitutes
-one of the most significant events of mental history. The national
-religions--or, as they are generally, though misleadingly, called, the
-natural religions--of the great peoples of antiquity begin to pass
-beyond their original bounds and to become religions of humanity.
-There are three such world religions--Christianity, Islamism, and
-Buddhism--each of them adapted in character and history to a particular
-part of mankind. This appears most clearly in the contrast between
-Christianity and Buddhism, similar as they are in their endeavour to
-be world religions. The striving to become a world religion, however,
-is also a symptomatic mental phenomenon, paralleled externally by the
-extension of national States beyond the original limits set for them
-by the tribal unit. Corresponding to this expansion, we find those
-reciprocal influences of cultural peoples in economic life, as well as
-in custom, art, and science, which give to human society its composite
-character, representing a combination of national with universally
-human elements. Hellenism and the Roman Empire afford the first and,
-for Occidental mental development, the most important manifestations of
-these phenomena. How immense is the chasm between the secret barter of
-primitive man who steals out of the primeval forest by night and lays
-down his captured game to exchange it, unseen by his neighbours, for
-implements and objects of adornment, and the commerce of an age when
-fleets traverse the seas, and eventually ships course through the air,
-uniting the peoples of all parts of the world into one great commercial
-community! We cannot undertake to delineate all aspects of this
-development, for the latter includes the entire history of mankind.
-Our concern is merely to indicate the outstanding psychological
-factors fundamental to the progression of the later from that which
-was original, of the more perfect from the primitive, partly under the
-pressure of external conditions of life and partly as a result of man's
-own creative power.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER I
-
-PRIMITIVE MAN
-
-
-1. THE DISCOVERY OF PRIMITIVE MAN.
-
-
-Who is the primitive man? Where is he to be found? What are his
-characteristics? These are the important questions which here at
-once confront us. But they are questions to which, strangely enough,
-the answer has, up to very recent times, been sought, not in the
-facts of experience, history, or ethnology, but purely by the path
-of speculation. At the outset the search was not, for the most part,
-based on investigations of primitive culture itself, but took as
-its starting-point contemporary culture and present-day man. It was
-primarily by means of an abstract opposition of culture to nature
-that philosophy, and even anthropology, constructed natural man. The
-endeavour was not to find or to observe, but to _invent_ him. It was
-simply by antithesis to cultural man that the image of natural man took
-shape; the latter is one who lacks all the attainments of culture.
-This is the negative criterion by means of which the philosophy of the
-Enlightenment, with its conceited estimate of cultural achievements,
-formed its idea of primitive man. Primitive man is the savage; the
-savage, however, is essentially an animal equipped with a few human
-qualities, with language and a fragment of reason just sufficient to
-enable him to advance beyond his deplorable condition. Man in his
-natural state, says Thomas Hobbes, is toward man as a wolf. He lives
-with his fellow-beings as an animal among animals, in a struggle for
-survival. It is the contrast of wild nature with peaceful culture,
-of ordered State with unorganized herd or horde, that underlies this
-conception.
-
-But this antithesis between the concepts of culture and of nature,
-as objectively considered, is not the only factor here operative;
-even more influential is the contrast between the subjective moods
-aroused by the actual world and by the realm disclosed by imagination
-or reason. Hence it is that the repelling picture of primitive man is
-modified as soon as the mood changes. To an age that is satiated with
-culture and feels the traditional forms of life to be a burdensome
-constraint, the state of nature becomes an ideal once realized in a
-bygone world. In contrast to the wild creature of Thomas Hobbes and his
-contemporaries, we have the natural man of Jean Jacques Rousseau. The
-state of nature is a state of peace, where men, united in love, lead a
-life that is unfettered and free from want.
-
-Alongside of these constructions of the character of natural man,
-however, there early appeared a different method of investigation,
-whose aim it was to adhere more closely to empirical facts. Why should
-we not regard those of our human institutions which still appear to be
-a direct result of natural conditions as having existed in the earliest
-period of our race? Marriage and the family, for example, are among
-such permanent cultural institutions, the one as the natural union of
-the sexes, the other as its necessary result. If marriage and family
-existed from the beginning, then all culture has grown out of the
-extension of these primitive associations. The family first developed
-into the patriarchal joint family; from this the village community
-arose, and then, through the union of several village communities, the
-State. The theory of a natural development of society from the family
-was first elaborated by Aristotle, but it goes back in its fundamental
-idea to legend and myth. Peoples frequently trace their origin to an
-original pair of ancestors. From a single marriage union is derived the
-single tribe, and then, through a further extension of this idea, the
-whole of mankind. The legend of an original ancestral pair, however, is
-not to be found beyond the limits of the monogamous family. Thus, it
-is apparently a projection of monogamous marriage into the past, into
-the beginnings of a race, a tribe, or of mankind. Wherever, therefore,
-monogamous marriage is not firmly established, legend accounts for the
-origin of men and peoples in various other ways. It thinks of them as
-coming forth from stones, from the earth, or from caverns; it regards
-animals as their ancestors, etc. Even the Greek legend of Deukalion and
-Pyrrha contains a survival of such an earlier view, combined with the
-legend of an original ancestral pair. Deukalion and Pyrrha throw stones
-behind them, from which there springs a new race of men.
-
-The thought of an original family, thus, represents simply a projection
-of the present-day family into an inaccessible past. Clearly,
-therefore, it is to be regarded as only an hypothesis or, rather,
-a fiction. Without the support which it received from the Biblical
-legend, it could scarcely have maintained itself almost down to the
-present, as it did in the patriarchal theory of the original state
-of man to which it gave rise. The Aristotelian theory of the gradual
-origin of more comprehensive organizations, terminating in the State,
-is no less a fiction; the social communities existing side by side in
-the period of Greece were arbitrarily represented as having emerged
-successively in the course of history. Quite naturally, therefore, this
-philosophical hypothesis, in common with the corresponding legend of
-the original family, presupposes primitive man to have possessed the
-same characteristics as the man of to-day. Thus, it gives no answer at
-all to the question concerning the nature of this primitive man.
-
-When, therefore, modern anthropology made the first attempt to answer
-this question on the basis of empirical facts, it was but natural to
-assume that the characteristics of original man were not to be learned
-from a study of existing peoples, nor, indeed, from history, but that
-the data for the solution of the problem were of a _prehistoric_
-nature, to be found particularly in those human remains and those
-products of man's activity that have been preserved in the strata of
-the earth's crust. What we no longer find _on_ the earth, so it was
-held, we must seek _under_ the earth. And thus, about six decades
-ago, _prehistoric anthropology_ began to gather material, and this
-has gradually grown to a considerable bulk. Upon the completion of
-this task, however, it appeared, as might, of course, have been
-expected, that psychology could gain but little in this way. The only
-source from which it might derive information lay in the exhumed
-objects of art. Then, however, the very disappointing discovery was
-made that, as regards implements of stone, drawings on the walls of
-caves which he inhabited, and pictures cut into horn or bone, the
-artistic achievements of the man of diluvial times did not differ
-essentially from those of the present-day savage. In so far as physical
-characteristics are concerned, however, the discovered remains of
-bones seemed to point to certain differences. While these differences,
-of course, were incapable of establishing any direct psychological
-conclusions, the fact that the measurements of the skeletal parts
-more closely resembled those of animals, and, in particular, that the
-measurements of the interior of the skull were smaller than those of
-the savages of our own time, offered indirect evidence of a lower
-development. Because of the close relation of cranial capacity to size
-of brain, moreover, a lower degree of intelligence was also indicated.
-Nevertheless, the remains that have been brought to light have not
-as yet led to any indubitable conclusions. There have been fairly
-numerous discoveries pointing to races that resemble the lower tribes
-among contemporary peoples, and but a few cases in which uncertainty
-is possible, and concerning which, therefore, there exists a conflict
-of opinions. A typical instance is the history of one of the first
-discoveries made in Europe of the remains of a prehistoric man. It was
-in 1856, in German territory, that there was discovered, in a grotto or
-cave in the Neander valley, near Duesseldorf, a very remarkable skull,
-though only, of course, the bones of the cranium and not the facial
-bones. All were at once agreed that these were the remains of a very
-primitive man. This was indicated particularly by characteristics which
-are still to be found, though scarcely in so pronounced a form, among
-certain lower races of men. Of special significance were the strongly
-developed, prominent bone-elevations above the eye-sockets. Some of the
-investigators believed that the long-sought '_homo primigenius_' had
-perhaps at last been discovered. It was generally agreed that the form
-of the skull resembled most closely that of the modern Australian. In
-more recent years, however, anthropologists have developed somewhat
-more exact methods of measurement and of the reconstruction of a
-skeleton from parts only incompletely given. When Hermann Klaatsch,
-equipped with this knowledge, carried out such a reconstruction of the
-Neanderthal skull, he came upon the surprising fact that its capacity
-was somewhat greater than that of the present-day Australian. Little
-as this tells us concerning the actual intelligence of these primitive
-men, it nevertheless clearly indicates how uncertain the conclusions
-of prehistoric anthropology still are. A number of other recent
-discoveries in Germany, France, and elsewhere, have proved that several
-prehistoric races of men once lived in Europe. Some of these, no doubt,
-date back far beyond the last glacial period, and perhaps even beyond
-the period preceding this, for we now know that several glacial periods
-here succeeded one another. Nevertheless, no important divergencies
-from still existent races of men have been found. This, of course,
-does not imply that no differences exist; it means merely that none
-has as yet been positively detected, and that therefore the anatomy of
-prehistoric man can give us no information concerning the psychological
-aspect of the question regarding the nature of primitive man.
-
-Considerably more light is thrown on this question when we examine the
-products of human activity, such as implements, weapons, and works of
-art. Traces of man, in the form of objects hammered out of flint and
-shaped into clubs, chisels, knives, and daggers, capable of serving
-as implements of daily use no less than as weapons, are to be found
-as far back as the first diluvian epoch, and, in their crudest forms,
-perhaps even as early as the tertiary period. The more polished
-objects of similar form belong to a later age. Still more remarkable
-are the works of art--in particular, the cave pictures of prehistoric
-animals, such as the cave bear and the mammoth. Nevertheless, none of
-these achievements is of such a nature as to afford positive evidence
-of a culture essentially different from, or lower than, that of the
-primitive man of to-day. Two outstanding facts, especially, make a
-comparison difficult. On the one hand, wood plays an important role
-in the life of modern primitive man, being used for the construction
-of tools, weapons, and, in part, also of baskets and vessels. But the
-utensils of wood that may have existed in prehistoric times could not
-have withstood the destructive forces of decomposition and decay. All
-such utensils, therefore, that prehistoric man may have possessed have
-been lost. Thus, for example, it will be difficult ever to ascertain
-whether or not he was familiar with the bow and arrow, since the arrow,
-as well as the bow, was originally made of wood. Secondly, there is at
-the present time no primitive tribe, however much shut off from its
-more remote environment, into which barter, which is nowhere entirely
-absent, may not introduce some objects representing a higher form of
-civilization, particularly metals and metal implements. If, however, we
-bear in mind that, in the one case, products have suffered destruction
-and that, in the other, articles have been introduced from without, the
-impression made by prehistoric utensils and products of art--aside from
-certain doubtful remains dating back beyond the diluvial epoch--is not
-essentially different from that made by the analogous products of the
-Negritos of the Philippines or the inland tribes of Ceylon. Though the
-material of which the implements are constructed differs, the knives,
-hammers, and axes in both instances possess the usual form. Thus, the
-wooden knife which the Veddah of Ceylon still carves out of bamboo
-is formed precisely like some of the stone knives of the diluvial
-period. We find a similar correspondence when we examine the traces of
-dwellings and decorations that have been preserved, as well as certain
-remains that throw light upon customs. The oldest prehistoric people
-of Europe dwelt in caves, just as the primitive man of the tropics
-does to-day in the rainy season. In a rock cavern near Le Moustier,
-in France, there was discovered a skeleton whose crouching position
-points to a mode of burial still prevalent among primitive peoples,
-and one which is doubtless always a fairly positive indication of a
-belief in demons such as arises in connection with the impression
-made by death. The dead person is bound in the position that will
-best prevent his return. Thus, all these prehistoric remains suggest
-a culture similar to that of primitive tribes of to-day. But, just
-because they reveal conditions not essentially different from those
-of the present, these remains make another important contribution to
-our knowledge of primitive man. They indicate the great stability of
-primitive culture in general, and render it probable that, unless there
-are special conditions making for change, such as migrations and racial
-fusions, the stability increases in proportion to the antiquity. Though
-this may at first glance seem surprising, it becomes intelligible
-when we consider that isolation from his surroundings is an important
-characteristic of primitive man. Having very little contact with other
-peoples, he is in no wise impelled to change the modes of action to
-which his environment has led him from immemorial times.
-
-Thus, the correspondence of the prehistoric with that which is
-to-day primitive indicates a high degree of permanence on the part
-of primitive culture. But, even apart from this consideration, it is
-apparent that we must really seek primitive man in the inhabited world
-of the present, since it is here alone that we can gain a relatively
-accurate knowledge of his characteristics. Our information concerning
-primitive man, therefore, must be derived from ethnology. We must not
-seek him _under_ the earth, but _on_ the earth. Just where, however,
-is he to be found? For decades the natives of Australia were believed
-to represent a perfect example of primitive culture. And, as a matter
-of fact, their material culture and some of their mythological
-ideas still seem to be of a very primitive character. Because of
-the conjecture that it was here dealing with a relatively primitive
-type of man, modern anthropology has for two decades applied itself
-with great partiality to the study of Australian tribes. English and
-German investigators have given us many works, some of them excellent,
-treating of the continent of Australia, which appears almost as unique
-with respect to its population as in its flora and its fauna. From
-these investigations, however, which are reported particularly in
-the volume by Howitt published in 1900, in the works of Spencer and
-Gillen, and, finally, in those of Strehlow, a German missionary, it
-is apparent that the Australian culture is anything but primitive: it
-represents, rather, a stage of development already somewhat advanced.
-In certain respects, indeed, it may contain very primitive elements,
-such as are not to be found even among tribes that are, on the whole,
-on a lower level. Australian culture, however, possesses an enormously
-complex social organization, and this places it above that which may
-be called primitive. In its present form, it presupposes a development
-of probably thousands of years. Assuredly, therefore, the Australian
-should not be included in a chapter on primitive man. He will rather
-claim our attention in the next chapter, as a well-defined type of
-the totemic age. Indeed, he is beginning, in part, to lose even the
-characteristics of this age, mainly, no doubt as a result of racial
-fusion, whose influence is here also in evidence.
-
-Although the races of Australia are unquestionably not primitive, as
-was formerly believed and is still held in certain quarters, there are
-other parts of the earth which, in all probability, really harbour
-men who are primitive in that relative sense of the term which alone,
-of course, we are justified in using. If one were to connect the
-discovery of this primitive man with any single name, the honour would
-belong to a German traveller and investigator, George Schweinfurth.
-He was the first to discover a really primitive tribe--that is, one
-which remained practically untouched by external cultural influences.
-When Schweinfurth, sailing up the Upper Nile in 1870, listened to the
-narratives of the Nubian sailors in charge of his boat, he repeatedly
-heard accounts of a nation of dwarfs, of people two feet tall (so the
-exaggerated reports went), living in the impenetrable forests beyond
-the great lakes which constitute the source of the Nile. Schweinfurth
-was at once reminded of the old legends regarding pygmies. Such legends
-are mentioned even by Homer and are introduced also into the writings
-of Herodotus and of Aristotle. Aristotle, indeed, expressly says that
-these dwarf peoples of Central Africa exist in reality, and not merely
-in tales. When Schweinfurth arrived in the country of the Monbuttus,
-he was actually fortunate enough to gain sight of these pygmies. It is
-true, they did not exactly correspond to the fantastic descriptions
-of the sailors--descriptions such as are current here and there even
-to-day. The sailors represented the pygmies as having long beards,
-reaching to the earth, and gigantic heads; in short, they imputed to
-them the characteristics of the dwarf gnome, who appears also in German
-folk-lore. In reality, it was found that the pygmies are, indeed,
-small--far below the average normal size of man--but that they are of
-excellent proportions, have small heads, and almost beardless faces.
-
-Subsequent to Schweinfurth's discovery, similar tribes were found in
-various parts of the earth. Emin Pasha, together with his companion
-Stuhlmann, had the good fortune to be able to observe the pygmies of
-the Congo more closely even than had been possible for Schweinfurth. In
-the Negritos of the Philippines a similar dwarf people was discovered.
-They also are of small stature, and, according to their own belief
-and that of the neighbouring Malays, are the original inhabitants of
-their forests. Besides these, there are the inland tribes of the Malay
-Peninsula, the Semangs and Senoi, and, finally, the Veddahs of Ceylon,
-studied particularly by the cousins Paul and Fritz Sarasin. All of the
-peoples just mentioned live in forests and have probably been isolated
-from civilization for thousands of years. The Bushmen of South Africa,
-of whom we have long known, also belong to this group, although they
-have not to the same extent been free from the influence of surrounding
-peoples. In all these cases we have to do with tribes which at one time
-probably occupied wider territories, but which have now been crowded
-back into the forest or wilderness. In addition to these tribes,
-furthermore, there are remnants of peoples in Hindustan, in Celebes,
-Sumatra, the Sunda Islands, etc. Concerning these, however, we as yet
-have little knowledge. In some respects, doubtless, the inhabitants of
-the Andaman Islands should also be here included, although they cannot,
-on the whole, be regarded as primitive in the strict sense of the word.
-This is precluded by their external culture, and especially by their
-legends, the latter of which point to the influence of Asiatic culture.
-
-Observations of these relatively most primitive tribes--and this is
-especially worth noting---show them to be remarkably similar. If we
-read a description of the characteristics, habits, and customs of
-the Negritos of the Philippines and then pass on to the Malaccans,
-to the Semangs and Senoi, or, further, to the Veddahs of Ceylon,
-we constantly meet with almost the same phenomena, there being but
-slight differences depending on the specific character of the natural
-environment. We are thus in possession of data that are now observable.
-The statements and conclusions which these enable us to make are more
-than mere speculations with regard to the past; and they are more than
-inferences drawn from the silent fragments of the bones and from a
-few of the art products of primitive man. According as the phenomena
-are simpler in character and require fewer antecedent conditions for
-their explanation, may we be confident that we are really dealing with
-primitive conditions. This in itself implies that the criteria of
-primitive culture are essentially _psychological_ in nature, and that
-racial characteristics and original tribal relationships are probably
-negligible so far as this question is concerned. A culture would be
-absolutely primitive if no antecedent mental development whatsoever
-could be presupposed. Such an absolute concept can never be realized
-in experience, here any more than elsewhere. We shall, therefore,
-call that man primitive in the relative sense of the term--our only
-remaining alternative--whose culture approximates most nearly to
-the lowest mental achievements conceivable within the limits of
-universal human characteristics. The most convenient measure of these
-achievements, and the one lying nearest at hand, is that afforded by
-_external_ culture, as expressed in dress, habitation, and food, in
-self-made implements, weapons, and other productions serving to satisfy
-the most urgent needs of life.
-
-
-
-2. THE CULTURE OF PRIMITIVE MAN IN ITS EXTERNAL EXPRESSIONS.
-
-
-Following the above-mentioned criteria as to what may be regarded as
-primitive, the question concerning the external culture of primitive
-man may, in general, be briefly answered. Of dress there are only
-meagre beginnings: about the loins a cord of bast, to which twigs
-of trees are attached to cover the genitals--that is generally all,
-unless, through secret barter with neighbouring peoples, cotton
-goods, leather, and the like, have been imported. As regards personal
-decoration, conditions are much the same. On the next stage of
-development, the totemic, there is, as we shall later see, a desire for
-lavish decoration, especially as regards the adornment of the body by
-painting and tatooing. Little of this, however, is to be found among
-primitive tribes, and that which exists has probably been introduced
-from without. Some examples of such decoration are the scanty tatooing
-in single lines, the painting of the face with several red and white
-dots, and the wooden plug bored through the bridge of the nose. The
-Negritos of the Philippines bore holes through their lips for the
-insertion of a row of blades of grass. Other decorations found are
-necklaces and bracelets, fillets, combs, hair ornaments made of twigs
-and flowers, and the like.
-
-What is true of his dress holds also of the dwelling of primitive man.
-Everything indicates that the first permanent dwelling was the cave.
-Natural caves in the hillsides, or, less frequently, artificially
-constructed hollows in the sand, are the places of refuge that
-primitive man seeks when the rainy season of the tropics drives him
-to shelter. During the dry season, no shelter at all is necessary; he
-makes his bed under a tree, or climbs the tree to gain protection from
-wild animals. Only in the open country, under the compulsion of wind
-and rain, does he construct a wind-break of branches and leaves after
-the pattern supplied by nature in the leafy shelter of the forest. When
-the supports of this screen are inclined toward one another and set up
-in a circle, the result is the original hut.
-
-Closely connected with the real dwelling of primitive man, the cave,
-are two further phenomena that date back to earliest culture. As his
-constant companion, primitive man has a single animal, the _dog_,
-doubtless the earliest of domestic animals. Of all domestic animals
-this is the one that has remained most faithful to man down to the
-present time. The inhabitant of the modern city still keeps a dog
-if he owns any domestic animal at all, and as early as primitive
-times the dog was man's faithful companion. The origin of this first
-domestic animal remains obscure. The popular notion would seem to be
-that man felt the need of such a companion, and therefore domesticated
-the dog. But if one calls to mind the dogs that run wild in the
-streets of Constantinople, or the dog's nearest relative, the wolf,
-one can scarcely believe that men ever had a strong desire to make
-friends of these animals. According to another widely current view,
-it was man's need of the dog as a helper in the chase that led to its
-domestication. But this also is one of those rationalistic hypotheses
-based on the presupposition that man always acts in accordance with a
-preconceived plan, and thus knew in advance that the dog would prove a
-superior domestic animal, and one especially adapted to assist in the
-chase. Since the dog possessed these characteristics only after its
-domestication, they could not have been known until this had occurred,
-and the hypothesis is clearly untenable. How, then, did the dog and
-man come together in the earliest beginnings of society? The answer
-to this question, I believe, is to be found in the cave, the original
-place of shelter from rain and storm. Not only was the cave a refuge
-for man, but it was equally so for animals, and especially for the
-dog. Thus it brought its dwellers into companionship. Furthermore, the
-kindling of the fire, once man had learned the art, may have attracted
-the animal to its warmth. After the dog had thus become the companion
-of man, it accompanied him in his activities, including that of the
-chase. Here, of course, the nature of the carnivorous animal asserted
-itself; as man hunted, so also did the animal. The dog's training,
-therefore, did not at all consist in being taught to chase the game.
-It did this of itself, as may be observed in the case of dogs that
-are not specifically hunting dogs. The training consisted rather in
-breaking the dog of the habit of devouring the captured game. This was
-accomplished only through a consciously directed effort on the part of
-man, an effort to which he was driven by his own needs. Thus, it is
-the cave that accounts for the origin of the first domestic animal,
-and also, probably, for the first attempt at training an animal. But
-there is still another gain for the beginnings of culture that may
-probably be attributed to the cave in its capacity of a permanent
-habitation. Among primitive peoples, some of whom are already advanced
-beyond the level here in question, it is especially in caves that
-artistic productions may be found. These consist of crude drawings of
-animals and, less frequently, of men. Among the Bushmen, such cave
-pictures are frequently preserved from destruction for a considerable
-period of time. Natural man, roaming at will through the forests, has
-neither time nor opportunity to exercise his imagination except upon
-relatively small objects or upon the adornment of his own body. But the
-semi-darkness of the cave tends, as do few other places, to stimulate
-the reproductive imagination. Undisturbed by external influences, and
-with brightnesses and colours enhanced by the darkness, the memory
-images of things seen in the open, particularly those of the animals
-of the primeval forest, rise to consciousness and impel the lonely and
-unoccupied inhabitant to project them upon the wall. Such activity is
-favoured by the fact, verifiable by personal introspection, that memory
-images are much more vivid in darkness and semi-darkness than in the
-light of day. Thus, it was in the cave, the first dwelling-place of
-man, that the transition was made, perhaps for the first time, from
-the beginnings of a graphic art, serving the purposes of adornment or
-magic, to an art unfettered except by memory. It was an art of memory
-in a twofold sense: it patterned its objects after the memory of things
-actually observed, and it sought to preserve to memory that which it
-created.
-
-From the consideration of dress and habitation we turn to that of
-food. Primitive man was not bound to fixed hours for his meals.
-Among civilized peoples, so close a connection has grown up between
-meals and definite hours of the day that the German word for meal,
-_Mahlzeit_, reminds us of this regularity by twice repeating the word
-for time---for _Mahl_ also means time. Primitive man knew nothing of
-the sort. If he found food and was hungry, he ate; if he found none, he
-went hungry. Sometimes, moreover, in order to provide for the future,
-he gorged to such an extent as to injure his health. As concerns the
-food itself, there is an old theory which has led to misconceptions
-concerning primitive man. He was a hunter, we are told; the chase
-supplied him with food; only incidentally and occasionally did he
-enjoy parts of plants or fruits that he had gathered or accidentally
-discovered. It is scarcely correct, however, to assume that systematic
-hunting was practised by primitive man. Doubtless he did engage in this
-occupation. Yet this furnished him with only an incidental part of his
-food supply--apart with which, living as he did from hand to mouth, he
-satisfied only his momentary needs. It was with plant food, if at all,
-that he made provision for the future. Here may be found also the first
-traces of a division of labour: woman gathered the plant food--roots,
-bulbs, and berries--while man occasionally found it necessary to hunt.
-Plant food being capable of longer preservation, it was woman who
-first learned to economize and to make provision for the future. In
-part, indeed, the influence of these cultural beginnings persists even
-to-day. Moreover, just as mixed food, part plant and part animal, is by
-far the most common to-day, so also was it the original diet of man.
-The proportion, however, varied more than in later times, according as
-the external conditions of life were propitious or otherwise. Of this
-the Bushmen afford a striking illustration. Fifty years ago they were
-still by preference huntsmen. Armed with their bows, they dared to
-hunt the elephant and the giraffe. But after the surrounding peoples
-of South Africa--the Hottentots, Betschuans, and Herero--came into the
-possession of firearms, which the Bushman scornfully rejects, the game
-was, in part, exterminated, and to-day the Bushmen, crowded back into
-rocky wastes, derive but a small part of their living from the chase.
-They gather bulbs, roots, and other parts of plants, such as can be
-rendered edible by boiling or roasting. Their animal food, moreover, is
-no longer wild game, but consists, for the most part, of small animals
-found while gathering the plant food--frogs, lizards, worms, and even
-insects. Hunting, therefore, was never more than one of the customary
-means of providing food; and primitive man, especially, was a gatherer
-rather than a hunter. The word 'gatherer' implies also that he took
-from nature only what it directly offered, and that he was familiar
-neither with agriculture nor with the raising of animals. In procuring
-his food, moreover, he was aided by a knowledge, often surprising, of
-the properties of the objects gathered. This knowledge, probably gained
-as a result of many disastrous experiences in his search for food,
-enabled primitive man to utilize even such roots and fruits as are not
-wholesome in their raw state, either because they are not edible until
-prepared by means of fire, or because they are poisonous. Primitive man
-learned to overcome the injurious effects of many of these plants.
-By reducing them to small pieces, washing them in a solution of lye,
-and heating them, he converted them into palatable food. The bulbs and
-roots were secured from beneath the surface of the ground by means of
-the most primitive of all agricultural implements and the progenitor of
-all succeeding ones, the _digging-stick_. This is a wooden stick, with
-a pointed end that has been hardened by fire.
-
-Connected with the removal of poison, by means of water and fire, from
-parts of plants that are otherwise edible, is still another primitive
-discovery--the utilization of the poisons themselves. Only when the
-arrow is smeared with plant poisons does the bow become a real weapon.
-In itself the arrow wound is not sufficient to kill either game or
-enemy; the arrow must be poisoned if the wound is to cause death
-or even temporary disability. The Veddahs and the inland tribes of
-Malacca therefore use the juice of the upas-tree mixed with that of
-strychnos-trees. The best known of these arrow poisons, curare, used in
-South America and especially in Guiana, is likewise prepared from the
-juice of strychnos-trees.
-
-This brings us to the _weapons_ of primitive man. In this connection it
-is highly important to note that all of the primitive peoples mentioned
-above are familiar with the use of bow and arrow, but we must also
-bear in mind that this is practically their only weapon. Contrary to
-what archaeological excavations would suggest concerning the earliest
-age of peoples, primitive culture, in respect to implements and
-weapons, depended only to a small extent upon the working of stone. We
-might better speak of this period as an age of wood. Wood is not only
-decidedly easier to manipulate than stone, but it is always more easily
-obtainable in shapes suitable for constructive purposes. Possibly even
-the arrow-head was originally always made of wood, as it sometimes is
-even to-day. Only in later times was the wood replaced by a sharpened
-stone or by iron acquired through barter.
-
-It is not difficult to see how wood, in the forms which it possesses
-by nature, came to be fashioned into clubs, axes, and digging-sticks,
-and how bones, horns, shells, and the like were converted into tools
-and objects of adornment. But how did primitive man acquire _bow and
-arrow_? The general belief seems to be that this weapon was invented
-by some resourceful mind of an early age. But an inventor, in the
-proper sense of the word, must know in advance what he wishes to
-invent. The man, therefore, who constructed the bow and arrow for the
-first time must already have had some previous idea of it. To effect
-a combination of existing implements, or to improve them in useful
-ways, is a comparatively easy matter. But no one can manufacture
-implements if he possesses nothing over and above material that is in
-itself somehow suitable for the purpose. The most primitive implements,
-therefore, such as the digging-stick, the club, and the hammer, are
-all products of nature, at most changed slightly by man as their
-use requires. But this is obviously not true of bow and arrow. We
-may, perhaps, find a suggestion for the solution of our problem in a
-hunting weapon which, though belonging, of course, to the later totemic
-culture, is in principle simpler than the bow and arrow--the boomerang
-of the Australians. The word is probably familiar to all, but the
-nature of the weapon is not so well known, especially its peculiarly
-characteristic form by virtue of which, if it fails to strike its
-object, it flies back to the one who hurled it. The boomerang, which
-possesses this useful characteristic, is, in the first place, a bent
-wooden missile, pointed at both ends. That this curved form has a
-greater range and strikes truer to aim than a straight spear, the
-Australian, of course, first learned from experience. The boomerang,
-however, will not return if it is very symmetrically constructed; on
-the contrary, it then falls to the ground, where it remains. Now it
-appears that the two halves of this missile are asymmetrical. One of
-the halves is twisted spirally, so that the weapon, if thrown forward
-obliquely, will, in accordance with the laws of ballistics, describe
-a curve that returns upon itself. This asymmetry, likewise, was
-discovered accidentally. In this case, the discovery was all the more
-likely, for primitive weapons were never fashioned with exactitude.
-That this asymmetry serves a useful purpose, therefore, was first
-revealed by experience. As a result, however, primitive man began to
-copy as faithfully as possible those implements which most perfectly
-exhibited this characteristic. Thus, this missile is not a weapon that
-required exceptional inventive ability, though, of course, it demanded
-certain powers of observation. The characteristics, accordingly, that
-insured the survival of the boomerang were discovered accidentally
-and then fixed through an attentive regard to those qualities that
-had once been found advantageous. Now, can we conceive of the origin
-of bow and arrow in an analogous way? Surely this weapon also was not
-devised in all its parts at a single time. The man of nature, pressing
-his way through the dense underbrush of the forest and experiencing
-in person the hard blows of branches that he has bent back, gains a
-lively impression of the elastic power of bent wood. How easily the
-attention is forced to the observation that this effect increases when
-the wood is bent out of its natural shape, appears strikingly in the
-case of a kind of bow found in Asia and the Asiatic islands. The bow
-is here constructed out of a piece of wood bent by nature, not in such
-a way, however, that the natural curve of the wood forms the curve
-of the bow, but contrariwise. Thus arises a _reflexive_ bow, whose
-elastic power is, of course, considerably increased. In order that such
-a bow may be bent back more easily, some people of a more advanced
-culture construct it out of several layers of wood, horn, sinew, or
-the like. Having first observed the powerful impulsive force which a
-rod gains through being bent, it was a simple matter to render this
-force permanently available by bending the rod back and binding its
-ends together with a cord of bast, or, if bamboo was used, with strips
-torn from the bamboo itself. Thus originated the common form of the
-bow. Next, it was, of course, easy to observe that the bowstring thus
-contrived would communicate a powerful impetus to a lighter piece of
-wood placed against it. In addition to the bow, we then have the arrow,
-which is hurled into the distance by the combined propelling power
-of the bow and its string. But at this point a new factor appeared,
-clearly indicating that several motives generally co-operated in the
-case of such so-called primitive inventions. In these inventions nature
-itself played no less a part than did the inventive genius of the
-individual. The arrow but rarely consists merely of a piece of wood one
-of whose ends is somehow pointed or provided with a stone head, or, at
-a later period, with an iron head. As is well known, the other end is
-feathered, either with genuine bird feathers or, as in the case of the
-pygmies of Central Africa, with an imitation of bird feathers made of
-palm-leaves. The feathers are usually supposed to have been added to
-insure the accurate flight of the arrow. And this accuracy is, indeed,
-the resultant effect. As in the case of the boomerang, however, we must
-again raise the question: How did man come to foresee this effect,
-of whose mechanical conditions he had, of course, not the slightest
-knowledge? The solution of this problem probably lies in the fact of an
-association of the discharged arrow with a flying bird that pierces the
-air by the movement of its feathers. Thus, in the arrow, man copied the
-mode of movement of the bird. He certainly did not copy it, however,
-with the thought that he was causing movement in a mechanical way. We
-must bear in mind that for primitive man the image of a thing is in
-reality always equivalent to the thing itself. Just as he believes
-that his spirit resides in his picture, with the result that he is
-frequently seized with fright when a painter draws his likeness and
-carries it away with him, so also does the feathered arrow become for
-him a bird. In his opinion, the qualities of the bird are transferred
-by force of magic to the arrow. In this case, indeed, the magical
-motive is in harmony with the mechanical effect.
-
-Nature directly supplies primitive man not only with the patterns of
-his implements and weapons, but also with those of the _vessels_ which
-he uses. Of the primitive tribes none is familiar, at the outset,
-with pottery. In its stead, suitable natural objects are utilized for
-storing what is gathered. The Negritos of the Philippines, for example,
-employ coconut shells. The inland tribes of the Malay Peninsula use
-bamboo, whose varying thicknesses, and, particularly, whose internodes
-enable it to be converted into the desired vessels by cutting the
-stem at the upper end of an internode and immediately below it, thus
-securing a vessel with a bottom. Wherever primitive peoples cut vessels
-out of wood, as occurs among the Veddahs and the Bushmen, we may be
-sure that this represents a comparatively late acquirement, following
-upon a knowledge of metals and the use of stone implements. Primitive
-man possesses no vessels for cooking purposes. He prepares his food
-directly in the fire or in hot ashes.
-
-We are now confronted by a final and an especially interesting
-question of primitive culture, that of the _acquisition of fire_. This
-acquisition made a deep impression on the human mind, and one whose
-effects long survived in legend. The totemic age, as we shall see,
-is replete with legends of beneficent animals which brought fire to
-man. In the heroic age, the fire-bringing animal is displaced by the
-fire-bringing hero. We may call to mind Prometheus, who brought fire
-from heaven, and by so doing drew upon himself the vengeance of the
-gods. Nevertheless, the question concerning the original production
-of fire is a very simple one. As in the case of very many utensils
-and tools, we must look to natural conditions that present themselves
-in the course of experience. Man did not invent the art of kindling
-fire; it would be nearer the truth to say that he found it, inasmuch
-as he discovered it while making his utensils. In this connection,
-particularly, it is highly important to note that the first age, if we
-would designate it by its tools, was not an age of stone but an age of
-wood. We have already referred to the way in which bamboo was worked
-up into vessels for the storing of fruits and liquids. With a sharp
-sliver of bamboo, a bamboo-stem is sawed into pieces in order that its
-parts may be utilized. If this sawing occurs during dry weather, the
-wood is pulverized and the heated sawdust finally becomes ignited. As
-soon as it begins to glow, the worker blows upon it and the fire flames
-up. This mode of kindling fire has been called that of _sawing_, and
-is probably the oldest in origin. After fire was thus accidentally
-produced, it became possible to kindle it at will, and this developed
-into a skilful art. At a later stage, however, there came the further
-need of drilling holes into wood. This gave rise to a second method of
-kindling fire, that of drilling. A piece of wood is bored through with
-a sharpened stick of hard wood, and the same results occur as in the
-case of the sawing. The method of drilling is the more effective; it
-produces fire more quickly. Nevertheless, both methods are laborious
-and tedious, and we cannot blame the savage for regarding as a magician
-the European who before his very eyes lights a match by friction.
-Because of the difficulty in producing fire, its preservation plays
-an important role in the life of the savage. When he changes his
-dwelling-place, his first consideration, as a rule, is to take with him
-some live fire so that he will not be obliged to kindle it anew.
-
-In conclusion, we may supplement these sketches of external culture
-by mention of a feature that is particularly characteristic of the
-relation of primitive man to his environment. Primitive man lives in
-close association with his fellow-tribesmen, but he secludes himself
-from other tribes of the neighbourhood. He is led to do so because they
-threaten his means of subsistence; indeed, he himself may fall a prey
-to them, as do the Pygmies of Central Africa to the anthropophagic
-customs of the Monbuttus. And yet, primitive man early feels the need
-of such useful articles as he cannot himself produce but with which
-he has, in some accidental manner, become acquainted. This gives rise
-to what is generally called 'secret barter.' An illuminating example
-of this occurs in the records of the Sarasin cousins as relating to
-the Veddahs. The Veddah goes by night to the house of a neighbouring
-Singhalese smith and there deposits what he has to offer in barter,
-such as captured game, ivory, etc. With this he places a representation
-of an arrow-head, made of palm-leaves. The next night he returns and
-finds real arrows of iron which the smith has laid out in exchange for
-the proffered goods. It might be thought that such a system of barter
-would imply an excessive measure of confidence. The smith, however,
-knows that, should he take away that which was brought to him without
-delivering the arrows, he would himself be struck by an arrow shot from
-some sheltered ambush. Thus, many things, especially iron, materials
-for clothing, and articles of adornment, come into the possession of
-primitive man through secret barter, raising his external culture to a
-somewhat higher level.
-
-A retrospective survey of this culture brings to notice especially
-the fact that the concept 'primitive' is never valid, as applied to
-man, except in a _relative_ sense. Of an absolutely primitive man we
-know nothing at all. Moreover, the knowledge of such a being could
-hardly render explicable his further development, since he would
-really belong to the animal level and therefore to the prehuman
-stage of existence. Primitive man is _relatively_ primitive, for,
-while he does possess certain beginnings of culture, these are in no
-respect more than mere beginnings, all of which are borrowed from
-nature and from the direct means of assistance which it offers. It
-is precisely these elementary acquisitions, however, that already
-differentiate primitive man from the animal. He has the beginnings of
-a dwelling and of dress, even though he does no more in either case
-than merely to utilize the means which nature offers, or than partly
-to imitate and partly to combine these means, as he does in the case
-of the leafy wind-break and of the weapons which doubtless represent
-the highest achievement of this age--namely, the bow and arrow. But
-these are all beginnings which already contain within themselves the
-possibilities of higher achievements. The development of the hut out
-of the wind-break, of the lance out of the staff and the arrow, of
-the woven basket out of the coconut or the gourd, severally represent
-easy steps in the advance from nature to culture. Next there comes
-the preparation of food by means of fire. This is closely connected
-with the discovery of the art of kindling fire, which, in its turn,
-was partly an accidental discovery connected with the manufacture of
-primitive tools out of wood and partly a real invention. Thus, the
-manufacture of tools, on the one hand, and the kindling of fire, which
-was connected with it, on the other, are the two primary features
-which from early times on distinguished primitive man from animals.
-Furthermore, there is the bow and arrow, which is the first real weapon
-and differs markedly from all other implements. Its construction also
-was dependent upon the assistance of nature. The fact that this was
-the only weapon of primitive society throws an important light on the
-nature of the latter. The bow and arrow continued to be used for a
-long time afterwards--indeed, even down to the appearance of firearms;
-it served not only as a weapon of warfare but also as an implement
-for hunting. With it alone, however, no organized strife or warfare
-of any sort is possible. While, therefore, it is true that the archer
-appears on the earliest monuments of cultural peoples, it is only
-as the fellow-combatant of the warrior who is armed with shield and
-lance. With lance and shield it is possible to fight in closed ranks.
-The archer must fight single-handed. Primitive man, therefore, does
-not engage in tribal wars; he is familiar only with the strife of
-individual with individual. In fact, wherever the bow and arrow is used
-exclusively, open warfare is impossible. With it, primitive man slays
-his enemy from behind a sheltering bush. It is thus that the Veddah of
-nature serves the cultural Veddah, or the Singhalese who has deceived
-him in secret barter, or even the fellow-tribesman who steals his wife.
-Just as secret barter is carried on in concealment, so also is warfare.
-This, however, indicates that the bow and arrow was originally
-intended for hunting and not for warfare. From this consideration alone
-it is evident that primitive life was not a war of all against all, as
-it was described by Thomas Hobbes. On the contrary, there doubtless
-existed a state of peace, interrupted only occasionally by the strife
-of individual with individual--a strife that resulted from a conflict
-of interests, such as occurred even during this early period.
-
-
-
-3. THE ORIGIN OF MARRIAGE AND THE FAMILY.
-
-
-That the origin of marriage and the family really constitutes a
-problem, long failed to be recognized. Because of the natural relations
-of the sexes it was supposed that man lived in a state of marriage
-from the very beginning. Furthermore, the monogamous marriage of the
-present was projected back into an indefinite past, where it found
-final termination in the idea of a primal pair of ancestors. But, even
-apart from this mythological belief, there were also positive grounds
-for supposing an original state of monogamy. Do not many animals live
-in monogamous union? In addition to nest-building birds, monogamy
-prevails particularly among mammals, and, of the latter, among those
-that have the closest physical relationship to man. We might cite the
-gorilla, the primate that most resembles man, and probably also the
-chimpanzee, although in this case we lack positive proof. Why, then,
-should not man have carried over monogamous marriage from his animal
-state into his primitive culture? This theory, therefore, was regarded
-as almost self-evident until after the middle of the last century.
-But in 1861, a Swiss jurist and antiquarian, J. Bachofen, published a
-remarkable work on "Mother-right." In this book Bachofen attempted to
-prove the falsity of the doctrine--previously almost uncontested--that
-monogamy was the original form of marriage, and to refute the view,
-regarded as equally self-evident, that within this marriage union
-man held the supremacy--in brief, the patriarchal theory. Bachofen
-started with a discussion of the Lycians as described by Herodotus.
-According to this writer, the kinship of the children, among the
-Lycians, was determined by the mother, not by the father. The sons
-and daughters belonged to the family of the mother, and descent was
-traced through her instead of through the father. Bachofen found
-similar indications among other peoples also. He called attention, for
-example, to Tacitus's reports in the _Germania_ of some of the German
-tribes in which a son stands closer to the brother of his mother than
-he does to his father. Similar statements occur in Caesar's _Bellum
-Gallicum_ concerning the Britons. Bachofen collected other examples
-of the same nature, and also especially emphasized certain elements
-in myth and legend that seemed to indicate a like ascendancy of woman
-in early times. In his opinion, legend is esteemed too lightly if, as
-occurred in his day, it is regarded as entirely meaningless. Of course,
-legend is not history; yet it gives a picture, even though in fanciful
-terms, of the real conditions of earlier times. On the basis of these
-detached observations, Bachofen at once constructed a general theory.
-Preceding the patriarchal period of paternal rule, there was maternal
-rule, gynecocracy. In earliest times the mother was the head of the
-family. In romantic colours Bachofen pictures the era in which the fair
-sex guided the destinies of humanity. Later, man, with his rougher
-nature but greater intelligence, displaced her and seized the dominion
-for himself. Bachofen then asks, How did it come about that, in spite
-of this natural superiority of man, woman ruled the family earlier
-than he? To this he gives an extremely prosaic and realistic reply,
-contrasting sharply with his romantic ideas in connection with the
-dominance of woman. We must find a clue, he believes, in those cases
-of our own day in which mothers still determine the name, descent,
-etc., of their children. This happens when the children are born out of
-wedlock. Under such conditions, the child does not know its father, nor
-does, perhaps, even the mother. To understand the origin of maternal
-descent, therefore, we must suppose that children were universally
-born out of wedlock. Thus, prior to the ascendancy of woman, there
-existed a state of agamy, in which there was no marriage but only a
-promiscuous relation of the sexes. We thus have, as it were, a picture
-whose outlines are determined by contrast with the family of civilized
-peoples, and which reminds us of Hobbes's account of the earliest
-political relations, there being in both cases an entire absence of
-order. But it is precisely in this fact, Bachofen believes, that we
-have a clue to the origin of gynecocracy if only we bear in mind the
-actual characteristics of woman. Woman's nature is such that this
-universal promiscuity of the sexes must have become repulsive, first of
-all, to her. Turning away all other men, she accepted but a single one.
-In so doing, woman proved herself the champion of chastity and morals
-which she has since remained. To her, and not to man, is due the honour
-of having founded the monogamous family. At the outset she was also its
-natural preserver and guardian. The children were counted to her kin;
-her kin determined descent; and, in Bachofen's view, this condition,
-which arose out of causes of a universal nature, long prevailed
-throughout the world generally. But why was it not maintained? It was
-not possible, so runs the answer, because, though woman alone was
-psychically fitted to establish it--man could never have instituted
-monogamy--she was not equally fitted to render it permanent. Woman is
-not born to rule. In intelligence, as well as in physical strength,
-she is inferior to man. Altogether, therefore, there are three periods
-of development: agamy or promiscuity, followed by female supremacy or
-mother-right, and, finally, by the dominance of man, or father-right.
-
-These hypotheses of Bachofen created much dispute in succeeding years.
-Some of the facts could not be denied from the standpoint of the
-antiquarian. Nevertheless, the supposition of the universality of an
-early mother-right was quite rightly questioned, and its origin out
-of the completely unrestrained condition of the horde was even more
-vigorously contested. And so the theory of the Swiss jurist, which was
-based essentially on philologic-antiquarian arguments, gradually fell
-into the background, until, in the seventies of the nineteenth century,
-it suddenly seemed to find important corroboration and a new basis
-from an entirely different quarter. It was ethnology that supplied the
-new facts, and these were again derived from a study of Australia,
-that field of ethnological observation which was generally regarded as
-more particularly exemplifying primitive culture. Bachofen believed
-to have demonstrated that maternal descent was originally a universal
-custom, even in the case of those who are now cultural peoples.
-Ethnology revealed the fact that this system of kinship is still very
-prevalent in Australia. Indeed, it is so prevalent that even to-day
-about three-fifths of the tribes trace descent through the mother and
-only two-fifths through the father. In some of the cases in which
-the system of paternal descent is now established, moreover, it is
-probable that the mother once determined the kinship of the children.
-It was on the basis of these facts that, in his volume on the natives
-of south-eastern Australia, Howitt, the most thorough investigator of
-the social conditions of the Australians, came to a conclusion similar
-to that previously reached by Bachofen on the basis of his antiquarian
-investigations. In Howitt's view, all family relations were originally
-based on the system of maternal descent. This system, though generally
-restricted to narrower bounds than in Australia, is likewise to be
-found in America, Melanesia, Polynesia, and in several parts of the
-Old World, especially among the peoples of northern Siberia and among
-the Dravidian tribes in the southern part of Hindustan. These facts
-have more and more led present-day ethnologists to a view that is in
-essential agreement with Bachofen's theory. Again the question was
-raised how such a system of maternal descent was possible. The answer
-was that it could be possible only if the mother, but not the father,
-was known to son and daughter--again an analogical conclusion from
-conditions prevailing in present-day society outside the marriage tie.
-Accordingly, the idea was again adopted that, anteceding marriage,
-there was an original state of promiscuity. It was believed that there
-was originally neither marriage nor family, but merely a condition in
-which there were sexual relations of all with all--a picture of the
-relations between man and woman suggested by the idea of an original
-state of natural rights and of freedom from political restraints, and
-forming, as it were, the counterpart of the latter.
-
-But ethnology then discovered other phenomena also that seemed to
-favour this view. _Two_ lines of argument, particularly, have here
-played an important role, and still retain a measure of influence.
-The first argument was again derived from the ethnology of Australia.
-This region possesses a remarkable institution, describable neither
-as monogamy nor as agamy, but appearing, at first glance, to be
-an intermediate form of association. This is the so-called _group
-marriage_; several men are united in common marriage with several
-women. Either a number of brothers marry a number of sisters, or a
-number of men belonging to one kinship group marry in common women
-of another. Group marriage, therefore, may seem to represent a sort
-of transitional stage between promiscuity and monogamy. At first, so
-we might picture it to ourselves, the union of all with all became
-restricted to more limited groups, and only later to the union of one
-man with one woman.
-
-But had not a further argument been added, perhaps neither female
-descent alone nor group marriage would have attracted to this theory so
-many prominent ethnologists, including, besides Howitt, the two able
-investigators of Australia, Spencer and Gillen, the learned exponent
-of comparative ethnology, J. G. Frazer, and a number of others. This
-further argument was presented with particular thoroughness by the
-American ethnologist Lewes Morgan, in his history of primitive man,
-"Ancient Humanity" (1870). It is based upon what Morgan has termed
-the 'Malayan system of relationship.' We are not, of course, familiar
-with this as a system of actual relationship; it occurs only in the
-languages of certain peoples, as a system of names--in short, as a
-nomenclature--referring in part to relations of kinship, but chiefly
-to age-relations within one and the same kinship group. The name
-'Malayan' is not entirely appropriate as applied to this system. The
-nomenclature is found particularly on the island of Hawaii, though it
-also occurs in Micronesian territory. Its essential characteristic may
-be very simply described. It consists, or consisted, in the fact that
-a native of Hawaii, for example, calls by the name of 'father,' not
-only his actual father but also every man of an age such that he could
-be his father--that is, every man in the kinship group of the next
-older generation. Similarly, he calls by the name 'mother,' not only
-his own mother but every woman who might possibly, as regards age, be
-his mother. He calls brother and sister the men and women of his own
-generation, son and daughter those of the next younger generation, and
-so on up to grandfather and grandmother, grandson and grand-daughter.
-The Hawaiian native does not concern himself about more distant
-generations; great-grandfather is for him the same as grandfather, and
-great-grandchild the same as grandchild. The terms, thus, are of the
-simplest sort. The brothers and sisters of a man, whom we designate in
-the accompanying diagram by M, are placed alongside of him in the same
-generation; above, as an older generation, are fathers and mothers;
-still
-
-            Grandparents
-                 |
-      Fathers\   |   /Mothers
-              \  |  /
-   Brothers----  M  ----Sisters
-              /  |  \
-         Sons/   |   \Daughters
-                 |
-            Grandchildren
-
-higher, are grandfathers and grandmothers; below, are sons and
-daughters and the grandsons and granddaughters. The same, of course,
-holds also for women. Thus, the system as a whole comprises five
-generations.
-
-Now, it was maintained that this system could have arisen only out of
-a previous condition of general promiscuity. For, unless the actual
-father were universally unknown, how could it be possible that a
-person would call by the name of father every man within the same
-kinship group who might, as regards age, be his father? If, however,
-we propose this argument, we immediately strike a weak point in the
-hypothesis, since all women of the older generation are called mother
-just as its men are called father. We should certainly expect that the
-real mother would be known, because the child derives its nourishment
-from her during a period which is especially long among primitive
-peoples, and because it grows up close to her. And, furthermore, the
-hypothesis is hardly reconcilable with the fact that, for the most
-part, Malayo-Polynesian languages differentiate relations by marriage
-even more sharply than do our own. An Hawaiian man, for example, calls
-the brother of his wife by a different name than does a woman the
-brother of her husband. Thus, in place of our word 'brother-in-law'
-they have two expressions. In any event, the term 'brother-in-law'
-is applied to an individual, and therefore implies marriage. To meet
-this point, we would be obliged to fall back on the supposition that
-these terms represent later additions to the original nomenclature
-of relationship. But even then the fact would remain that, in their
-direct reference, these terms are merely names for differences in age.
-It therefore remains an open question whether the terms also designate
-relationship; to the extent of our observation, this is certainly not
-the case. The native of Hawaii, so far as we know anything about him,
-knew his father and mother: what he lacked was merely a specific name
-for them. Whenever he did not call his father by his given name, he
-evidently called him by the same name that he applied to the older men
-of his immediate group. Among European peoples also, the terms 'father'
-and 'mother' are sometimes used in connection with men and women
-outside this relationship. For example, the Russians, particularly,
-have a custom of addressing as 'little father' and 'little mother'
-persons who are not in the least related to them. That which makes it
-highly probable that in the so-called Malayan system of relationship we
-are dealing not with degrees of relationship but with age-periods, is,
-in the last event, a different phenomenon--one that has hitherto been
-overlooked in connection with these discussions. In the very regions
-whose languages employ this nomenclature, custom prescribes that the
-youths and men live in separation from the women and children from
-their earliest years on. This is the institution of the men's club with
-its age-groups. Its social role is an important one, crowding even
-the family association into the background. Under such circumstances,
-the individual is naturally interested first of all in his companions
-of the same age-group, for each of these usually occupies a separate
-apartment in the men's house. Thus, the so-called Malayan system of
-relationship is really not a system of relationship at all, but a
-nomenclature of age-groups based on social conditions. These conditions
-bring it about that companions of the same sex are more closely
-associated than are men and women. In the men's houses a companion of
-the same group is a brother, one of the next older group, a father.
-Together with these men the individual goes to war and to the hunt.
-Thus, these phenomena cannot be said to belong to the lowest stage of
-culture. Nor, obviously, does this terminology, which has reference
-to differences of age, exclude any particular form of marriage. In
-this case it is a mistake to associate the names 'father,' 'mother,'
-'brother,' etc., with the concepts that we attach to these words.
-
-The hypothesis that the family, whether of monogamous or of polygamous
-organization, was preceded by a state of unrestricted sexual
-intercourse, so-called agamy or promiscuity, is, however, as was
-remarked above, based not only on the fact of maternal descent and of
-the Malayo-Polynesian method of designating ages, but also on that
-of group-marriage. In this form of marriage, a number of men marry
-in common a number of women. This is interpreted as a transitional
-stage between an unrestricted sexual intercourse within the tribe and
-the limited marriage unions of later times. At first glance, indeed,
-this might appear probable. In order, however, to decide whether
-such a transition could take place, and how it might occur, we must
-first of all consider the relation which group-marriage sustains,
-among the peoples who practise it, to the other forms of marriage. It
-then appears at once that it is a particular form of polygamy. True,
-it is not identical with the form of polygamy most familiar to us,
-in which one man possesses several wives. But there is also a second
-form, which, though less frequent, is of greatest importance for an
-interpretation of group-marriage. One woman may have several husbands.
-The two forms of polygamy may conveniently be called _polygyny_ and
-_polyandry_, and these terms should always be distinguished in any
-attempt at a precise account of polygamous marriage. Polygyny is very
-prevalent even in our day, occurring particularly in the Mohammedan
-world, but also among the heathen peoples of Africa, and in other
-regions as well. It was likewise practised by the ancient Israelites,
-and also by the Greeks, although the Indo-Germanic tribes for the most
-part adhered to monogamy from early times on. Polyandry is much less
-common, and is, indeed, to be found only among relatively primitive
-peoples. It occurs in Australia and, in the southern part of Hindustan,
-among the Dravidians, a tribe of people crowded back to the extreme end
-of the continent by peoples who migrated into India; it is found also
-far in the north among the Esquimos of Behring Strait and among the
-Tchuktchis and Ghilyaks of Siberia, and, finally, here and there in the
-South Sea Islands.
-
-If, now, we wish to understand the relation of these two forms of
-polygamy to each other, we must first of all attempt to picture to
-ourselves the motives that underlie them, or, wherever the custom has
-become fixed through age, to bring to light the motives that were
-originally operative. In the case of polygamy, the immediate motive is
-evidently the sexual impulse of man which is more completely satisfied
-by the possession of several wives than by that of a single one. This
-motive, however, does not stand alone; as a rule other contributing
-circumstances are present. Two such important factors, in particular,
-are property rights and the power of authority. Polygyny flourishes
-particularly wherever the general conceptions of property and of
-authority, and, connected with the latter, that of the supremacy of
-man within the family, have attained undue importance. Under the
-co-operation of these motives, the wife becomes the absolute property
-of the husband, and may, therefore, wherever polygyny prevails among
-barbaric peoples, be given away or exchanged. Bound up with this,
-moreover, is the fact that, wherever there are considerable social
-differences, dependent on differences in property and rank, it is
-principally the wealthy or the aristocratic man who possesses many
-wives. In the realm of Islam, the common man is, as a rule, content
-with a _single_ wife, so that monogamy here prevails in the lowest
-stratum of society.
-
-With polyandry the case is essentially otherwise. In it, entirely
-different motives are operative; it might, indeed, be said that they
-are the exact opposite of those that bring about polygyny. It is
-particularly significant that polyandry is found in regions where there
-is a scarcity of women. This scarcity, however, is, in turn, generally
-due to an evil custom of barbaric culture, namely, infanticide. In
-Polynesia, where polyandry was very prevalent, this custom was at
-one time fairly rampant. Even to-day infanticide still appears to
-be practised by some of the Dravidian tribes of Hindustan. Similar
-conditions prevail among the Australians. In Polynesia, however,
-and probably in other localities as well, it was chiefly the female
-children who were the victims of infanticide. The natural result was
-a decrease in women and a striking numerical disproportion between
-the sexes. Thus, Ellis, one of the older English investigators of
-conditions in these territories, estimated the relation of men to women
-as about six to one. Under such circumstances the custom of polyandry
-is intelligible without further explanation. It was not possible for
-every one to possess a wife of his own, and so several men united to
-win one wife in common.
-
-We might ask why it was chiefly girls who fell victims to this murder.
-That children in general should be sacrificed, under the rough
-conditions of nature, is not inexplicable. It is due to the struggle
-for the necessities of life and to the indolence that shrinks from the
-labour of raising children. The desire is to preserve the lives of only
-a limited number; the remainder are killed immediately after birth. In
-Polynesia, the murder was forbidden if the child had lived but a single
-hour. Occasionally, magical motives are operative, as in the case of
-the horror which the man of nature feels towards deviations from the
-normal and towards the birth of twins. That male children are more
-often spared than female, however, can scarcely be explained otherwise
-than on the ground that a particular value is placed on men. The man
-is a companion in sport and in the chase, and is regarded as more
-valuable for the further reason that he aids in tribal warfare. This
-higher value reverts back even to the child. It is evidenced also in
-the fact that, in the case of women, the arrival of adolescence is not
-celebrated with the same solemn ceremonies as are held in the case of
-young men. Whereas great celebrations are held when the youth reaches
-the age of manhood, little notice is taken, as a rule, of the maiden's
-entrance into womanhood. By means of these celebrations, the youths
-are received into the society of men, and, together with companions of
-their own age, are initiated into the traditional ceremonies. In these
-ceremonies women are not allowed to participate.
-
-Though the causes of polyandry are thus entirely different from those
-of polygyny, it does not at all follow that these forms of marriage
-are mutually exclusive. On the contrary, they may very well exist
-side by side, as, indeed, they actually do in many places. But how,
-then, is so-called group-marriage related to these two forms? It is
-obviously nothing but a combination of polyandry and polygyny. In fact,
-whenever a group of men marries a group of women, these two forms of
-polygamy are both involved. Every man has several wives, and every
-wife has several husbands. Only, indeed, on the basis of a purely
-external and superficial consideration could one look upon polygyny
-and polyandry as unconjoinable, because they are, in a certain sense,
-opposing ideas. As a matter of fact, they do not really exclude each
-other. If we bear in mind the causes mentioned above, it is obvious
-that under certain conditions of life, such as occur particularly
-in a more primitive environment, their combination is more probable
-than their mutual exclusion. If, especially among tribes who have
-not yet developed sharply defined distinctions based on property and
-power, as, for example, among the Australians, every man strives to
-obtain several wives (which is the state of polygyny), while, on the
-other hand, there actually exists a dearth of women (which means that
-motives to polyandry are present), the two forms naturally combine
-with each other. This is frequently verified, moreover, whenever we
-are able to gain any degree of insight into the particular conditions
-surrounding the origin of such group-marriages, and also whenever their
-forms undergo a modification of details. Among Australian tribes, for
-example, particularly in the southern part of the continent, there is
-a common form of group-marriage, in which a man possesses either one
-or several chief wives, together with secondary wives; the latter are
-the chief wives of other men, whereas his own chief wife is in turn the
-secondary wife of those men or of others. This custom is very similar
-to what is probably the most common form of polygyny, namely, the
-possession by a man of only _one_ chief wife in addition to several
-secondary wives,--a form of marriage that is obviously derived from
-monogamy. One agency that is particularly apt to bring about such a
-form of marriage, transitional between monogamy and polygyny, is war.
-We know from the Iliad that in barbaric times woman was the booty
-of the conqueror, and became his slave or secondary wife. So also,
-according to the Biblical legend, Abraham possessed a chief wife,
-Sarah, who belonged to his own tribe, but also a secondary wife, Hagar,
-who was an Egyptian slave. Wherever the concept of property became
-prominent, the purchase of women proved to be a further source of
-polygyny. In this case also, there was generally _one_ chief wife,
-wherever polyandry did not interfere. When the Mohammedan of modern
-times calls his chief wife 'favourite,' it is merely another indication
-that this form of polygyny developed from monogamy, since, according
-to the old custom, there was but _one_ chief wife. Here, however, the
-chief wife is no longer necessarily the wife belonging to a man's own
-tribe, as was the case among the ancient Israelites; the favour of the
-master determines which wife shall be given the privileged place.
-
-Thus, from whatever angle we view group-marriage, its polygyny and
-its polyandry seem to rest on monogamy. This is true also of forms
-of group-marriage other than those mentioned above. Where the theft
-of women still continues to be a practice more serious than are the
-somewhat playful survivals that occur in the marriage ceremonies of
-cultural peoples, the one who wishes to steal a wife not infrequently
-secures confederates for his undertaking. Custom then commonly gives
-these companions a certain right to the stolen woman. This right, of
-course, is for the most part temporary, but it may nevertheless come
-to approximate the conditions of group-marriage in case the first man
-assists his confederates in the same way in which they have aided him.
-There is still another and a related motive that may lead to the same
-result. When a woman enters into marriage with a man of a certain
-tribe, she at once enters into very close relations with the tribe
-itself. Where tribal association has gained a preponderant importance,
-custom sometimes grants to all the male members of the tribe certain
-transient rights with respect to the woman on the occasion of her
-marriage. This occurs particularly when the man and woman belong to
-different tribes--that is, in the case of exogamy, an institution
-characteristic of the totemic age and to be considered later. For,
-the lively consciousness of kinship differences naturally tends to
-strengthen the right of appropriation belonging to the entire tribe.
-A similar thought is reflected in the mediaeval _jus primae noctis_ of
-certain provinces of France and Scotland, except that in place of the
-right of the kinship group to the possession of the individual we here
-find the authority of the lord over his vassals.
-
-Thus, all these phenomena, belonging in part to the transitional
-stage between monogamy and polygamy and in part to a combination of
-the two forms of polygamy, namely, polygyny and polyandry, point to
-monogamy as the basal form of marriage, and that form from which, under
-the influence of particular conditions, all others have developed.
-Whether or not we regard it as probable that the system of maternal
-descent was at one time universal, no argument for the existence of
-an original promiscuity can be based upon it. If we call to mind
-the close association of the youths and men of the kinship group in
-the men's house, it will be apparent that such conditions of social
-intercourse make for a particularly intimate bond between mother and
-children. Before his entrance into the community of men, the boy lives
-in the company of the women. This close association between mother and
-children is sufficient to account for the origin of maternal descent.
-But, owing to the gradual change of cultural conditions, it is to be
-expected that maternal descent should pass over into paternal descent
-as soon as more positive conceptions of authority and property are
-formed. Moreover, the possibility also remains that among some tribes
-paternal descent prevailed from the very outset; positive proof is
-here not available. We cannot, of course, deny the possibility that
-under certain cultural conditions man exercised the decisive influence
-from the very beginning, as early, indeed, as one may speak of clan
-membership and hereditary succession. The most primitive stage of
-culture, as we shall see in the following discussion, lacks the
-conditions for either maternal or paternal descent, inasmuch as it
-possesses neither clearly defined clans nor any personal property worth
-mention.
-
-Thus, the arguments based on the existing conditions of primitive
-peoples, and contending that the original condition of mankind was that
-of a horde in which both marriage and the family were lacking, are
-untenable. On the contrary, the phenomena, both of group-marriage,
-valued as the most important link in the chain of proof, and of the
-simpler forms of polygamy, everywhere point to _monogamy_ as their
-basis. Furthermore, these arguments all rest on the assumption that
-the peoples among whom these various phenomena occur, particularly
-the combination of polygyny and polyandry in group-marriage, occupy a
-primitive plane of social organization. This presupposition also has
-proven fallacious, since it has become evident that this organization,
-especially among the Australian tribes, is an extremely complicated
-one, and points back to a long history involving many changes of custom.
-
-Meanwhile, primitive man, in so far as we may speak of him in the
-relative sense already indicated, has really been discovered. But the
-Australian does not belong to this class, nor, even less, can many of
-the peoples of Oceania be counted within it. It includes only those
-tribes which, having probably been isolated for many centuries and
-cut off from the culture of the rest of the world, have remained on
-the same primitive level. We have become familiar with them in the
-preceding account of the external culture of primitive man. We find
-them to be forest peoples who have, for the most part, been crowded
-back into inaccessible territory and who have entered but slightly
-into intercourse with the outside world, inasmuch as their needs are
-limited. They generally call themselves, whether rightly or wrongly
-we need not inquire, the original inhabitants of these regions,
-and they are regarded as such by their neighbours. They include,
-in addition to several tribes of Hindustan (as yet insufficiently
-studied), particularly the Semangs and Senoi of the interior of the
-Malay Peninsula, the Veddahs of Ceylon, the Negritos of the Philippines
-and Central Africa, and, finally, to some extent, also the Bushmen.
-This is certainly a considerable number of peoples, some of whom live
-at great distances from the others. In spite of this, however, even
-their external culture is largely the same. Considering the primitive
-character of their social institutions and customs, it would seem safe
-to say that without doubt they approach the lowest possible level of
-human culture. Besides bow and arrow they have scarcely a weapon, no
-vessels of clay, and practically only such implements as are presented
-directly by nature herself. At this stage there is scarcely anything
-to distinguish man from the animal except the early discovered art of
-kindling fire, with its influence on the utilization of the food that
-is gathered. Briefly summarized, these are the main traits of primitive
-culture that are known to us.
-
-What, now, is the status of marriage and the family at this period? The
-answer to this question will come as a surprise to those who are imbued
-with the widespread hypotheses that presuppose the primitive state to
-be that of the horde. And yet, if these hypotheses be regarded in the
-proper light, our answer might almost be expected. Among the primitive
-tribes that we have mentioned, monogamy is everywhere found to be not
-only the exclusive mode of marriage, but that which is always, so to
-speak, taken for granted; and this monogamy, indeed, takes the form of
-single marriage. It is but rarely that related families live together
-more or less permanently, forming the beginning of the joint family.
-The Bushmen alone offer something of an exception to this rule. Among
-them, polygyny, together with other practices, has been introduced.
-This is probably due to the influence of neighbouring African peoples,
-such as the Hottentots and the Bantus. Elsewhere conditions are
-different. This is true especially of the Semangs and Senoi, whose
-isolation has remained more complete, and of the Veddahs of nature,
-as the Sarasin cousins call them in distinction from the surrounding
-Veddahs of culture. Among these peoples, monogamy--indeed, lifelong
-monogamy--has remained the prevailing form of marriage. Connected with
-it is found the original division of labour, which is based on sex.
-Man provides the animal food by hunting; woman gathers the vegetable
-food--fruits, tubers, and seeds--and, by the employment of fire, if
-necessary, renders both it and the game edible. This basis of division
-of labour, which appears natural and in harmony with the endowment of
-the sexes, contrasts with the conditions of later culture in that it
-indicates an approximate equality of the sexes. Furthermore, Rudolf
-Martin and the two Sarasins, investigators of the primitive Asiatic
-tribes of Malacca and Ceylon, commend the marriage of these peoples
-as being a union of husband and wife strictly guarded by custom.
-In forming a moral estimate of these conditions, it should not be
-overlooked that the exclusive possession of the wife is probably due to
-jealousy as much as it is to mutual faithfulness. Among the Veddahs,
-the intruder who threatens this possession is struck to earth by a
-well-aimed arrow shot from behind ambush, and custom approves this act
-of vengeance as a justifiable measure on the part of the injured man.
-Therefore, even though a French traveller and investigator may, to a
-certain extent, have confused cause and effect when he stated that the
-monogamy of these tribes had its origin in jealousy, the exercise of
-the right of revenge may, nevertheless, have helped to strengthen the
-custom. But, of course, in view of the primitive state of culture that
-here prevails, this custom of revenge is itself merely an indication of
-the undisputed supremacy of monogamy. Even as the individual, and not
-the clan, exercises this vengeance, so also does marriage continue to
-be restricted to single marriage. Of the formation of joint families,
-which arise out of the union of immediate blood relations, we find at
-most, as has been remarked, only the beginnings.
-
-
-
-4. PRIMITIVE SOCIETY.
-
-
-The more extensive social groups generally result from the fact that
-during the rainy season families withdraw into caves among the hills.
-The larger caves are frequently occupied in common by a number of
-families, particularly by such as are most closely related. Yet the
-groups of co-dwellers are not so much determined by considerations
-of kinship as by the size of the places of refuge; a single family
-occasionally occupies a small cave by itself. Nevertheless, this
-community life plainly furnishes the incentive to a gradual formation
-of wider social groups. This, no doubt, accounts for the fact that
-during the favourable season of the year several families of the
-Veddahs claim for themselves a specific plot of ground, whose supply of
-game, as well as of the products of the soil, which the women gather,
-belongs exclusively to them. Thus, there is a division of the people
-into districts, and these are determined geographically rather than
-ethnologically. Every one is entitled to obtain his food, whether game
-or products of the soil, from a specified territory. Custom strictly
-guards this communal property, just as it protects the single marriage.
-The Veddah, for example, who encroaches upon the territory belonging to
-a group other than his own, is in no less danger of falling a victim to
-an arrow shot from an ambush than is the one who trespasses on marriage
-ties.
-
-These various institutions form the beginnings of social organization,
-but as yet they do not represent developed clan groups or established
-joint families of the patriarchal type. On the contrary, as they
-arise through the free association of individuals, so also may they
-be freely dissolved. Each man has exclusive possession of his wife.
-Without interference on the part of his clan, moreover, he exercises
-absolute control over his children, who remain with the individual
-family just as in the case of a developed monogamy. There is no trace
-of sex-groups, such as are later to be found in the case of the men's
-houses and the age-groups. Only temporarily, on the occasion of common
-undertakings, such as the hunting of large animals, which requires a
-considerable measure of strength, or when new hunting-grounds are being
-sought, is a leader appointed from among the older men. His leadership,
-however, ceases with the completion of the undertaking. There are no
-permanent chiefs, any more than there are clans or tribal organizations.
-
-Thus, in summary, we might say: Whenever the social organization
-of primitive man has remained uninfluenced by peoples of a higher
-culture, it consists in a firmly established monogamy of the form of
-_single marriage_--a mode of existence that was probably carried over
-from a prehuman stage resembling that of the present-day anthropoids.
-There are also scanty beginnings of social groups. If we consider
-these tribes as a whole, they still continue to lead the life of a
-_horde_, meaning by this an unorganized, in contrast to an organized,
-tribe of people. Indeed, it was through a curious change of meaning
-that this word acquired its present significance. It is supposed to
-have originated in a Mongolian idiom, whence it found its way first
-into the Russian and later into other European languages. The Tartars
-called a division of warriors a _horda_. First used in this sense, the
-word apparently did not receive its present meaning in Germany until
-the beginning of the eighteenth century. Having in mind the "Golden
-Horde" of the Tartars, a horde was understood to mean a particularly
-dreaded division of warriors. The furious force of these Asiatic
-hordes, and the terror which they spread, later caused the concept
-to be extended to all unorganized, wild, and unrestrained masses of
-men. Taking the word in this wider significance, we may now say that
-the horde, as a fairly large social group in which only very meagre
-suggestions of an organized tribal system occur, is characteristic of
-primitive times, no less than are the isolated single family and the
-beginnings of the joint family. Thus defined, however, the horde does
-not differ essentially from the animal _herd_, in the meaning which the
-latter concept would possess when applied to human-kind. And it is not
-impossible that in the extension of the meaning of the term 'horde,'
-this association of the foreign word with the original Germanic word
-'herd' played a part. A horde, we might say, is a human herd, but it is
-precisely a _human_ herd. Between the members of a horde, therefore,
-there exists a relation that is lacking in the animal herd, in flocks
-of migratory birds, for example, or in herds of sheep and cattle. This
-relation is established and preserved through a community of language.
-Herder, therefore, truthfully remarks that man was from the beginnings
-a 'herding animal,' in so far as he possessed social instincts. Even
-in the formation of language these social instincts were operative.
-Without a community life, and, we may add, without the mental
-interaction of individuals, language would be impossible. Language,
-however, in turn, strengthened this community life, and elevated it
-above the status of the animal herd or of an association concerned
-merely with momentary needs.
-
-Thus, these reflections concerning the social relations of primitive
-man lead us to a further field of phenomena which likewise affords
-a glimpse into the mental characteristics of primitive peoples. For
-that which differentiates the horde from the herd is the _language_ of
-primitive man, together with the activity most closely bound up with
-language, namely, _thinking_.
-
-
-
-5. THE BEGINNINGS OF LANGUAGE.
-
-
-Our knowledge of those peoples whom we, avoiding the errors of the
-past, may now regard as primitive, led to the conviction that the
-Asiatic and African tribes described above were actually primitive,
-in the above-mentioned relative sense of the word. Naturally the
-question concerning the language of these peoples then began to arouse
-considerable attention, on the part, not only of ethnologists, but also
-of those interested in philology. The question is of equal importance,
-to say the least, for the psychologist. For language is bound up
-with thought. From the phenomena of language, therefore, we may draw
-inferences concerning the most general characteristics of thought. Such
-fundamental differences of language as exist, for example, between the
-Chinese and the Indo-Germanic tongues do not, of course, allow the
-direct conclusion that there are quantitative differences in mental
-culture. They do imply, however, that there are divergent directions
-and forms of thought. In their ceaseless change, the latter react upon
-language, and this, in turn, again influences mental characteristics.
-We cannot suppose that, in the period of Old High German, much less
-in that of the original German, our ancestors employed the same forms
-of thought with which we of to-day are familiar. To a lesser degree,
-similar changes have undoubtedly transpired within much shorter spaces
-of time.
-
-These considerations make the question concerning the language of
-primitive man of the utmost psychological importance. Linguistic
-investigations, however, so far as they, in their early attempts,
-had been able to survey the field, had brought to light a fact which
-discouraged all efforts to discover an original language. Indeed, it
-was inevitable that at first glance this discovered fact should have
-appeared exceedingly strange, particularly when viewed in connection
-with the life of primitive man. It appeared that, for the most part,
-the original languages of primitive tribes no longer exist. It is true
-that in the vocabularies of the Semangs and Senoi of Malacca, of the
-Veddahs of Ceylon, of the Negritos of the Philippines, and in other
-vocabularies that have been collected, single words may be found which
-do not occur in the languages of the neighbouring tribes; and it is
-noteworthy that the bow and arrow are the objects most frequently
-designated by such words, a proof of the fact that these are really
-relatively primitive inventions. On the whole, however, the Veddahs
-speak the language of the Singhalese and Tamils; the Semangs and Senoi,
-as well as the Negritos of the Philippines, that of their neighbours,
-the Malays; similarly, among the African tribes, the Pygmies of Central
-Africa have apparently appropriated the language of the Monbuttus and
-other negro races, and the Bushmen that of the Hottentots.
-
-How may this remarkable fact be explained? That these tribes formerly
-possessed languages of their own can scarcely be doubted. For, as
-respects physical characteristics, they are absolutely distinct races.
-Considering their characteristics as a whole, moreover, it is utterly
-impossible that they could have lacked language before coming into
-contact with the peoples who entered the country at a later period.
-How, then, did these people come apparently to lose their original
-language? To this we may briefly reply that there here transpired
-what always occurs when the well-known principle of the struggle for
-existence is applied to the field of mental phenomena. The stronger
-race crowded out the most important mental creation of the weaker, its
-language. The language of the weaker race, which was probably very
-meagre, succumbed to a language that was more highly developed. At
-first glance, this explanation would appear to contradict what we know
-concerning the life of these primitive tribes. With what anxiety they
-isolate themselves from their neighbours! A striking proof of this is
-offered by the practice of secret barter, in which primitive man sets
-out from the forest, if possible by night, and deposits his captured
-game at a place which custom has set apart for this purpose, returning
-the next night to take whatever the more civilized neighbouring tribes
-have left in exchange--iron implements and weapons, material for
-clothing, and especially articles of adornment. The participants in
-this barter do not see each other, much less speak with each other. But
-where such seclusion exists, how is it possible for a strange language
-to penetrate? This problem appears almost insoluble. Nevertheless,
-a solution that appears at least probable was suggested by the
-investigations of Kern, an able Dutch scholar. His studies were based
-mainly on the development of the various Malayan idioms. A remarkable
-exception to the rule that primitive tribes have adopted the language
-of their more civilized neighbours came to light in the case of the
-Negritos of the Philippines. Their neighbours, as well as those of
-the tribes of the interior of Malacca, belong to that much-migrating
-race, the Malayans. If we compare the Negrito word-formations that
-have been collected during the past forty years with the vocabulary
-of the neighbouring Malayans, it is evident that all the words are
-entirely different, or at least seem to be so with few exceptions.
-When, however, Kern traced the probable development of these words, and
-compared them, not with the present-day usage of the Malays but with
-older stages of their language, he found that the latter invariably
-contained the counterparts of the Negrito words. Thus, while these
-Negritos have remained untouched by the present-day Malays, who
-probably entered the country at least several centuries ago, they have
-evidently derived their language from a Malayan influx that occurred
-much earlier still. To this may be added the demonstrable fact,
-gleaned from another source, that from very early times the Malayan
-tribes undertook migrations at widely separated intervals. Traversing
-the seas in their unsteady boats, they at various times peopled such
-islands, in particular, as were not too remote from the mainland. Now
-the testimony of language, to which we have referred, demonstrates
-that there were at least two such migrations to the Philippines, and
-that they occurred at widely different times. The original Malayan
-dialect, which has now become extinct or unknown to the modern Malays,
-was assimilated by the Negrito peoples, who probably occupied this
-territory before the arrival of any of the Malays. But this leads to
-a further inference. If the language was appropriated in prehistoric
-times and if the conditions of the present are such as would make this
-scarcely possible, we must conclude that the interrelations of the
-immigrants and the original inhabitants were formerly not the same as
-those that now prevail. And, as a matter of fact, this seems altogether
-probable, if we call to mind the descriptions which modern travellers
-give of their experiences among these primitive peoples. The traits of
-character that particularly distinguish them are fear and hatred of
-their more civilized neighbours; corresponding to this, is the contempt
-felt by the latter, because of their higher culture, for the more
-primitive peoples. The only thing that restrains the immigrant people
-from waging a war of extermination against the original inhabitants
-is the fear of the poisoned arrow which the Negrito directs against
-his enemy from behind an ambush. In view of these facts it is not
-difficult to understand the almost universal isolation of primitive
-man at the present time. On the other hand, travellers who have
-been admitted into the lives of the primitive tribes of Malacca and
-Ceylon and have sought to gain their friendship, unanimously assure us
-that, whenever a person has once succeeded in coming close to these
-people and in overcoming their distrust, he finds their outstanding
-characteristics to be good nature and readiness to render assistance.
-We may, therefore, be justified in assuming that the seclusion of
-primitive man was not an original condition, but that it grew up, here
-and elsewhere, as a result of the war of extermination to which he was
-exposed on the part of the races attempting to crowd him out of a large
-part of his territory. Before this state of affairs arose, barter also
-could scarcely have possessed that character of secrecy which only fear
-and hatred could give it. In all probability the intercourse which
-necessarily took place in early times between the older inhabitants
-and the newer peoples, led to a competition of languages in which
-the poorer and less developed language of primitive man inevitably
-succumbed. Nevertheless, the primitive language may also have quietly
-exercised a reciprocal influence upon the more advanced language.
-An observation that we cannot escape, even on far higher stages of
-linguistic development, is the fact that, in such a struggle between a
-superior minority and a less civilized majority, the former determines
-the main stock of words, and even, under favourable conditions, the
-grammatical form, whereas the latter exercises a decisive influence
-on pronunciation. That a similar process occurred in connection with
-the displacement of primitive languages, the language of the Bushmen
-offers proof. This is essentially a Hottentot dialect, even though
-it is characterized by certain traits of primitive thought. The
-Hottentots, however, have derived their well-known clacking sounds from
-the Bushmen, who also gave these sounds to the languages of the Bantu
-peoples.
-
-But are we deprived of all knowledge concerning the most primitive
-grammatical forms and concerning the related question of the origin
-of language, by virtue of the fact that the languages of primitive
-peoples have, with the exception of meagre remnants, apparently been
-lost? There is a consideration touching the question of primitive forms
-of thought and language that enables us, in spite of the difficulty
-suggested, to answer this question in the _negative_. The development
-of language does not at all keep pace with that of the other forms of
-culture. Primitive forms of thought especially, and the corresponding
-expression which they receive in language, may long persist after
-external culture is relatively advanced. And thus, among tribes that
-are in general far beyond the primitive stage, linguistic forms may
-still be found which are exact counterparts of phenomena that, from a
-psychological point of view, must be regarded as primitive. As regards
-this point, it is especially the African languages of the Soudan that
-offer a typical field for linguistic study. If we analyse the syntax of
-such a language and the forms of thought which the sentence structure
-allows us to infer, we gain the impression that it is hardly possible
-to imagine a form of human thought whose essential characteristics
-could be more primitive. This is clearly apparent from a consideration
-of the Ewe language of the peoples of Togo, a German colonial
-possession. This is a Soudan language, on whose grammar D. Westermann,
-a German missionary, has given us a valuable treatise. While the
-Ewe language does not contain all the essential features apparently
-characteristic of relatively primitive thought, it does exemplify some
-of them. We are led to this conclusion particularly when we compare
-it, together with other Soudan languages, with a form of language
-which, though it arises under highly advanced cultural conditions, may
-nevertheless be regarded as primitive, since it is actually formed anew
-before our very eyes. I refer to _gesture-language_. In this case, it
-is not sounds, but expressive movements, imitative and pantomimic, that
-form the means by which man communicates his thoughts to man. Though
-we may regard gesture-language as an original form of language, in so
-far as we can observe it at the moment of its creation, we must not, of
-course, forget that the genesis of the forms of gesture communication
-familiar to us belongs to a higher culture whose conditions differ
-widely from those of primitive thought.
-
-Now, of the various forms of gesture-language, the one that is least
-subject to change is doubtless the means of communication employed
-by those who are bereft of hearing, and therefore of speech as well,
-namely, the _deaf and dumb_. A similar means of communication through
-signs and gestures may also be observed among peoples of low culture.
-Especially when they consist of tribes with markedly different
-dialects, do such peoples make use of gestures in communicating
-with one another. Investigations of the spontaneously arising
-gesture-language of deaf-mutes date largely from the first half of
-the nineteenth century. More recent studies have been made of the
-gestures of the North American Indian tribes, and similar, though less
-complete, observations have been reported concerning the Australians.
-In these cases, however, gestures sometimes serve also as a sort of
-secret language. This is even more true of certain signs that occur
-among some of the peoples of southern Europe, as, for example, among
-the Neapolitans. In considering the question before us, such cases
-must, of course, be excluded, since the motive of communicating ideas
-may here be entirely displaced by that of keeping them secret; instead
-of a language that arises spontaneously, we have a means which is, on
-the whole, consciously elaborated for purposes of mutual understanding.
-If we disregard these cases, which belong to an entirely different
-order of facts, and examine the data gathered from widely different
-parts of the earth and from very diverse conditions of culture, we
-find a remarkable agreement. In certain details, of course, there are
-differences. The ideas of the Indian are not in all respects like those
-of the civilized European or those of the Australian. Nevertheless,
-the gestures that refer to specific concrete objects are frequently so
-similar that many of the signs employed by the gesture-language of the
-deaf-mutes of Europe may be found among the Dakota Indians. Could we
-transfer one of these deaf and dumb persons to this group of Indians,
-he would probably have no difficulty at all in communicating with them.
-In more recent times the opportunity of investigating spontaneous
-gesture-language has not been so great, because deaf-mutes have become
-more and more educated to the use of verbal language. The principal
-material for the study of the natural gesture-language of deaf-mutes
-is, therefore, still to be found in the older observations of Schmalz
-(1838, 2nd ed. 1848), a German teacher of people thus afflicted, and in
-the somewhat later reports of an Englishman by the name of Scott (1870).
-
-What, now, do these observations teach us concerning the origin of
-gesture-language, and therefore probably also concerning the factors
-underlying the origin of language in general? According to the
-popular notion, a so-called impulse for communication or, perhaps,
-certain intellectual processes, voluntary reflections, and actions,
-account for the fact that the contents of one's own consciousness
-come to be communicated to other individuals. If, however, we observe
-gesture-language in its origin, we obtain an entirely different
-view. This mode of communication is not the result of intellectual
-reflections or conscious purposes, but of emotion and the involuntary
-expressive movements that accompany emotion. Indeed, it is simply a
-natural development of those expressive movements of human beings
-that also occur where the intention of communicating is obviously
-absent. As is well known, it is not only emotions that are reflected
-in one's movements, particularly in mimetic movements of the face,
-but also ideas. Whenever ideas strongly tinged with feeling enter
-into the course of emotions, the direct mimetic expressions of the
-face are supplemented by movements of the arms and hands. The angry
-man gesticulates with movements which clearly indicate the impulse
-to attack that is inherent in anger. Or, when we have an ideational
-process of an emotional nature, and ideas arise referring to objects
-that are present to us, we point to the objects, even though there be
-no intention of communicating the ideas. Directions in space, likewise,
-as well as past time and futurity, are involuntarily expressed by
-means of backward and forward pointing movements; 'large' and 'small'
-are expressed by the raising and lowering of the hands. When further
-movements are added, indicating the form of an object by describing its
-image in the air with the hands, all the elements of a gesture-language
-are complete. What is lacking is only that the emotionally coloured
-idea be not a mere expression of one's own emotion, but that it evoke
-the same emotion and, through this, the same idea, in the minds of
-others. Under the influence of the emotion aroused within them, those
-addressed must then reply with the same, or slightly different,
-expressive movements. When this occurs, there is developed a common
-thinking in which impulsive movements are more and more displaced
-by voluntary actions, and ideational contents, together with the
-corresponding gestures, enter into the foreground of attention. By
-virtue of this ideational content, movements expressive of emotions
-come to be expressions of ideas; the communication of an individual's
-experiences to others results in an exchange of thought--that is, in
-language. This development, however, is influenced by that of all
-the other psychical functions, and especially by the transition of
-emotional and impulsive movements into voluntary actions.
-
-Of what nature, now, is the content of such a gesture-language as
-arises independently within a community, and which may, in so far,
-be regarded as primitive? To this we may briefly reply that all
-elements of this language are perceptible to the senses, and therefore
-immediately intelligible. Hence it is that deaf-mutes, though of
-different nationalities, can make themselves understood without
-difficulty, even upon meeting for the first time. This intelligibility
-of gesture-language, however, rests upon the fact that the signs it
-employs--or, translated into the terminology of spoken language, its
-words--are direct representations of the objects, the qualities, or
-the events referred to. Whenever the object discussed is present, the
-gesture of _pointing_ with the hand and finger is itself the clearest
-way of designating the object. Thus, for instance, 'I' and 'you' are
-expressed by the speaker's pointing to himself or to the other person.
-This suggests a similar movement to designate a 'third person' who
-is not present. The sign in this case is a backward movement of the
-finger. Whenever the objects of conversation are present in the field
-of vision, the dumb person, as a rule, dispenses with every other form
-of representation but that of merely pointing to them.
-
-Since the objects under discussion are, on the whole, only rarely
-present, there is a second and important class of gestures, which,
-for the sake of brevity, we may call _graphic_. The deaf-mute, as
-also the Indian and the Australian, represents an absent object by
-pictures outlined in the air. What he thus sketches in only very
-general outlines is intelligible to one practised in gesture-language.
-Moreover, there is a marked tendency for such gestures to become
-permanent within a particular social group. For the word 'house,'
-the outlines of roof and walls are drawn; the idea of walking is
-communicated by imitating the movements of walking with the index and
-middle fingers of the right hand upon the left arm, which is held out
-horizontally; the idea of striking is represented by causing the hand
-to go through the movements of striking. Not infrequently, however,
-several signs must be combined to make a gesture intelligible. In the
-German and English deaf and dumb language, the word 'garden,' for
-example, is expressed by first describing a circle with the index
-finger to indicate a place, and by then lifting the thumb and the index
-finger to the nose as the gesture for smelling. 'Garden,' thus, is, as
-it were, a place where there are flowers to smell. The idea 'teacher'
-cannot, of course, be directly represented or pictured; it is too
-complicated for a language of representation. The deaf and dumb person,
-therefore, is likely to proceed by first making the gesture for man.
-For this purpose, he singles out an incidental characteristic, his
-gesture being that of lifting his hat. Since women do not remove their
-hats in greeting, this gesture is highly typical. The distinctive sign
-for woman consists in laying the hands upon the breast. Now, in order
-to communicate the idea of 'male teacher,' the hat is first lifted as
-the above gesture for man, and then the index finger is raised. This is
-done either because pupils in school raise the index finger to indicate
-their knowledge of a certain thing or, perhaps, because the teacher
-occasionally raises his finger when he wishes to command attention or
-to threaten punishment.
-
-Pointing and graphic gestures thus represent the two means which
-gesture-language employs. Within the second of these classes of
-gestures, however, we may distinguish a small sub-group that may be
-called _significant_; in this case, the object is not represented by
-means of a direct picture, but by incidental characteristics--man, for
-example, is expressed by lifting the hat. The signs are all directly
-perceptible. The most important characteristic of gesture-language, as
-well as the most distinctive feature of an original language, is the
-fact that there is no trace of abstract concepts, there being merely
-perceptual representations. And yet some of these representations--and
-this is a proof of how insistently human thought, even in its
-beginnings, presses on to the formation of concepts--have acquired a
-symbolical meaning by virtue of which they become sensuous means, in
-a certain sense, of expressing concepts which in themselves are not
-of a perceptual nature. We may here mention only _one_ such gesture,
-noteworthy because it occurs independently in the language of the
-European deaf and dumb and in that of the Dakota Indians. 'Truth' is
-represented by moving the index finger directly forward from the lips,
-while 'lie' is indicated by a movement towards the right or left. The
-former is thus held to be a straight speech and the latter a crooked
-speech, transcriptions which also occur, as poetical expressions,
-in spoken language. On the whole, however, such symbolical signs
-are rare if the natural gesture-language has not been artificially
-reconstructed; moreover, they always remain perceptual in character.
-
-Corresponding to this feature is also another characteristic which all
-natural gesture-languages will be found to possess. In vain we search
-them for the grammatical categories either of our own or of other
-spoken languages--none may be found. No distinction is made between
-noun, adjective, or verb; none between nominative, dative, accusative,
-etc. Every representation retains its representative character,
-and that to which it refers may exemplify any of the grammatical
-categories known to us. For example, the gesture for walking may
-denote either the act of walking or the course or path; that for
-striking, either the verb 'to strike' or the noun 'blow.' Thus, in
-this respect also, gesture-language is restricted to perceptual signs
-expressing ideas capable of perceptual representation. The same is
-true, finally, of the sequence in which the ideas of the speaker
-are arranged, or, briefly, of the syntax of gesture-language. In
-various ways, depending on fixed usages of language, our syntax, as
-is well known, permits us to separate words that, as regards meaning,
-belong together, or, conversely, to bring together words that have
-no immediate relation. Gesture-language obeys but _one_ law. Every
-single sign must be intelligible either in itself or through the one
-preceding it. It follows from this that if, for example, an object
-and one of its qualities are both to be designated, the quality must
-not be expressed first, since, apart from the object, it would be
-unmeaning; its designation, therefore, regularly occurs after that
-of the object to which it belongs. Whereas, for example, we say 'a
-good man,' gesture-language says 'man good.' Similarly, in the case
-of verb and object, the object generally precedes. When, however, the
-action expressed by the verb is thought of as more closely related to
-the subject, the converse order may occur and the verb may directly
-follow the subject. How, then, does gesture-language reproduce the
-sentence 'The angry teacher struck the child'? The signs for teacher
-and for striking have already been described; 'angry' is expressed
-mimetically by wrinkling the forehead; 'child' by rocking the left
-forearm supported by the right. Thus, the above sentence is translated
-into gesture-language in the following manner: First, there are the
-two signs for teacher, lifting the hat and raising the finger; then
-follows the mimetic gesture for anger, succeeded by a rocking of the
-arm to signify child, and, finally, by the motion of striking. If we
-indicate the subject of the sentence by S, the attribute by A, the
-object by O, and the verb by V, the sequence in our language is ASVO;
-in gesture-language it is SAOV, 'teacher angry child strikes,' or, in
-exceptional cases, SAVO. Gesture-language thus reverses the order of
-sequence in the two pairs of words. A construction such as '_es schlug
-das Kind der Lehrer_ (VOS), always possible in spoken language and
-occurring not infrequently (for example, in Latin), would be absolutely
-impossible in gesture-language.
-
-If, then, gesture-language affords us certain psychological conclusions
-regarding the nature of a primitive language, it is of particular
-interest, from this point of view, to compare its characteristics
-with the corresponding traits of the most primitive spoken languages.
-As already stated, the so-called Soudan languages typify those that
-bear all the marks of relatively primitive thought. These languages
-of Central Africa obviously represent a much more primitive stage
-of development than do those of the Bantu peoples of the south or
-even those of the Hamitic peoples of the north. The language of the
-Hottentots is related to that of these Hamitic peoples. It is, in fact,
-because of this relationship, and also because of characteristics
-divergent from the negro type, that the Hottentots are regarded as a
-race that immigrated from the north and underwent changes by mixture
-with native peoples. If, now, we compare one of the Soudan languages,
-the Ewe, for example, with gesture-language, one difference will
-at once be apparent. The words of this relatively primitive spoken
-language do not possess the qualities of perceptibility and immediate
-intelligibility that characterize each particular gesture-sign. This
-is readily explicable as a result of processes of phonetic change,
-which are never absent, as well as of the assimilation of foreign
-elements and of the replacement of words by conceptual symbols that
-are accidental and independent of the sound. These changes occur in
-the history of every language. Every spoken language is the outcome of
-recondite processes whose beginnings are no longer traceable. And yet
-the Soudan languages, particularly, have preserved characteristics that
-show much more intimate connections between sound and meaning than our
-cultural languages possess. The very fact is noteworthy that certain
-gradations or even antitheses of thought are regularly expressed
-by gradations or antitheses of sound whose feeling tone plainly
-corresponds to the relation of the ideas. While our words 'large'
-and 'small,' 'here' and 'there,' show no correspondence between the
-character of the sound and the meaning, the case is entirely different
-with the equivalent expressions in the Ewe language. In this language
-large and small objects are designated by the same word. In the one
-case, however, the word is uttered in a deep tone, while in the other a
-high tone is used. Or, in the case of indicative signs, the deep tone
-signifies greater remoteness, the high tone, proximity. Indeed, in
-some Sudan languages three degrees of remoteness or of size are thus
-distinguished. 'Yonder in the distance' is expressed by a very deep
-tone; 'yonder in the middle distance,' by a medium tone; and 'here,' by
-the highest tone. Occasionally, differences of quality are similarly
-distinguished by differences of tone, as, for example, 'sweet' by a
-high tone, 'bitter' by a deep tone, 'to be acted upon' (that is, our
-passive) by a deep tone, and activity (or our active) by a high tone.
-This accounts for a phenomenon prevalent in other languages remote from
-those of the Soudan. In Semitic and Hamitic languages, the letter 'U,'
-particularly, has the force of a passive when occurring either as a
-suffix to the root of a word or in the middle of the word itself. For
-example, in the Hebrew forms of the so-called 'Pual' and 'Piel,' as
-well as 'Hophal' and 'Hiphil,' the first of each pair is passive, and
-the second, active in meaning. It was frequently supposed that this
-was accidental, or was due to linguistic causes of phonetic change
-other than the above. But when we meet the same variations of sound
-and meaning in other radically different languages, we must stop
-to ask ourselves whether this is not the result of a psychological
-relationship which, though generally lost in the later development
-of language, here still survives in occasional traces. In fact, when
-we recall the way in which we relate stories to children, we at once
-notice that precisely the same phenomenon recurs in child-language--a
-language, of course, first created, as a rule, by adults. This
-connection of sound and meaning is clearly due to the unconscious
-desire that the sound shall impart to the child not merely the meaning
-of the idea, but also its feeling-tone. In describing giants and
-monsters, she who relates fairy-tales to the child deepens her tone;
-when fairies, elves, and dwarfs appear in the narrative, she raises
-her voice. If sorrow and pain enter, the tone is deepened; with joyous
-emotions, high tones are employed. In view of these facts, we might say
-that this direct correlation of expression and meaning, observed in
-that most primitive of all languages, gesture-language, has disappeared
-even from the relatively primitive spoken languages; nevertheless,
-the latter have retained traces of it in greater abundance than have
-the cultural languages. In the cultural languages they recur, if at
-all, only in the onomatopoetic word-formations of later origin. We
-may recall such words as _sausen_ (soughing), _brummen_ (growling),
-_knistern_ (crackling), etc.
-
-The question still remains how the other characteristics of
-gesture-language, particularly the absence of grammatical categories
-and a syntax which follows the principle of immediate and perceptual
-intelligibility, compare with the corresponding characteristics of the
-relatively primitive spoken languages. These characteristics, indeed,
-are of incomparably greater importance than the relations of sound and
-meaning. The latter are more strongly exposed to external, transforming
-influences. Word-formations, however, and the position of the words
-within the sentence, mirror the forms of thought itself; whenever the
-thought undergoes vital changes, the latter inevitably find expression
-in the grammatical categories of the language, and in the laws of
-syntax which it follows.
-
-
-
-6. THE THINKING OF PRIMITIVE MAN.
-
-
-From the point of view just developed, the investigation of the
-grammatical forms of primitive language is of particular importance for
-the psychology of primitive man. True, as has already been remarked,
-the languages of the most primitive tribes have not been preserved
-to us in their original form. And yet it is in this very realm of
-grammatical forms, far more even than in that of sound pictures and
-onomatopoetic words, that the Soudan languages possess characteristics
-which mark them as the expression of processes of thought that
-have remained on a relatively primitive level. This is indicated
-primarily by the fact that these languages lack what we would call
-grammatical categories. As regards this point, Westermann's grammar
-of the Ewe language is in entire agreement with the much earlier
-results which Steinthal reached in his investigation of the Manda
-language, which is also of the Soudan region. These languages consist
-of monosyllabic words which follow one another in direct succession
-without any intermediate inflectional elements to modify their meaning.
-Philologists usually call such languages 'root-languages,' because a
-sound complex that carries the essential meaning of a word, apart from
-all modifying elements, is called by their science a verbal root. In
-the Latin word _fero, fer_, meaning 'to bear,' is the root from which
-all modifications of the verb _ferre_ (to carry) are formed by means
-of suffixal elements. If, therefore, a language consists of sound
-complexes having the nature of roots, it is called a root-language.
-As a matter of fact, however, the languages under discussion consist
-purely of detached, monosyllabic _words_; the conception 'root,'
-which itself represents the product of a grammatical analysis of our
-flectional languages, may only improperly be applied to them. Such a
-language is composed of detached monosyllabic words, each of which has
-a meaning, yet none of which falls under any particular grammatical
-category. One and the same monosyllabic word may denote an object,
-an act, or a quality, just as in gesture-language the gesture of
-striking may denote the verb 'to strike' and also the noun 'blow.'
-From this it is evident to what extent the expressions 'root' and
-'root-language' carry over into this primitive language a grammatical
-abstraction which is entirely inappropriate in case they suggest the
-image of a root. This image originated among grammarians at a time
-when the view was current that, just as the stem and branches of a
-plant grow out of its root, so also in the development of a language
-does a word always arise out of a group of either simple or composite
-sounds that embody the main idea. But the component parts of a language
-are certainly not roots in this sense; every simple monosyllabic word
-combines with others, and from this combination there result, in
-part, modifications in meaning, and, in part, sentences. Language,
-thus, does not develop by sprouting and growing, but by agglomeration
-and agglutination. Now, the Soudan languages are characterized by
-the fact that they possess very few such fixed combinations in which
-the individual component parts have lost their independence. In this
-respect, accordingly, they resemble gesture-language. The latter also
-is unfamiliar with grammatical categories in so far as these apply to
-the words themselves; the very same signs denote objects, actions, and
-qualities--indeed, generally even that for which in our language we
-employ particles. This agreement with gesture-language is brought home
-to us most strikingly if we consider the words which the primitive
-spoken languages employ for newly formed ideas--such, for instance,
-as refer to previously unknown objects of culture. Here it appears
-that the speaker always forms the new conception by combining into a
-series those ideas with which he is more familiar. When schools were
-introduced into Togo, for example, and a word for 'slate-pencil' became
-necessary, the Togo negroes called it 'stone scratch something'--that
-is, a stone with which we scratch something. Similarly 'kitchen,' an
-arrangement unknown to these tribes, was referred to as 'place cook
-something'; 'nail,' as 'iron head broad.' The single word always
-stands for a sensibly perceptual object, and the new conception is
-formed, not, as epistemologists commonly suppose, by means of a
-comparison of various objects, but by arranging in sequence those
-perceptual ideas whose combined characteristics constitute the
-conception. The same is true with regard to the expressions for such
-thought relations as are variously indicated in our language by the
-inflections of substantive, adjective, and verb. The Soudan languages
-make no unambiguous distinction between noun and verb. Much less are
-the cases of the substantive, or the moods and tenses of the verb,
-distinguished; to express these distinctions, separate words are always
-used. Thus, 'the house of the king' is rendered as 'house belong king.'
-The conception of case is here represented by an independent perception
-that crowds in between the two ideas which it couples together. The
-other cases are, as a rule, not expressed at all, but are implied in
-the connection. Similarly, verbs possess no future tense to denote
-future time. Here also a separate word is introduced, one that may be
-rendered by 'come.' 'I go come' means 'I shall go'; or, to mention
-the preterit, 'I go earlier' means 'I went.' Past time, however, may
-also be expressed by the immediate repetition of the word, a sensibly
-perceptual sign, as it were, that the action is completed. When the
-Togo negro says 'I eat,' this means 'I am on the point of eating'; when
-he says 'I eat eat,' it means 'I have eaten.'
-
-But ideas of such acts and conditions as are in themselves of a
-perceptual nature are also occasionally expressed by combining several
-elements which are obtained by discriminating the separate parts of
-a perceptual image. The idea to bring, for example, is expressed by
-the Togo negro as 'take, go, give.' In bringing something to some
-one, one must first take it, then go to him and give it to him. It
-therefore happens that the word 'go,' in particular, is frequently
-added even where we find no necessity for especially emphasizing the
-act of going. Thus, the Togo negro would very probably express the
-sentence, 'The angry teacher strikes the child,' in the following
-way: 'Man-school-angry-go-strike-child.' This is the succession
-that directly presents itself to one who thinks in pictures, and it
-therefore finds expression in language. Whenever conceptions require
-a considerable number of images in order to be made picturable,
-combinations that are equivalent to entire sentences may result in a
-similar manner. Thus, the Togo negro expresses the concept 'west' by
-the words 'sun-sit-place'--that is, the place where the sun sits down.
-He thinks of the sun as a personal being who, after completing his
-journey, here takes a seat.
-
-These illustrations may suffice to indicate the simplicity and at the
-same time the complexity of such a language. It is simple, in that it
-lacks almost all grammatical distinctions; it is complicated, because,
-in its constant reliance on sensibly perceptual images, it analyses our
-concepts into numerous elements. This is true not merely of abstract
-concepts, which these languages, as a rule, do not possess, but even
-of concrete empirical concepts. We need only refer to the verb 'to
-bring,' reduced to the form of three verbs, or the concept 'west,' for
-whose expression there is required not only the sun and the location
-which we must give it but also its act of seating itself. In all of
-these traits, then, primitive language is absolutely at one with
-gesture-language.
-
-The same is true of the syntax of the two kinds of language. This also
-is no more irregular and accidental in the Soudan language than it is
-in gesture-language. As a rule, indeed, it is stricter than the syntax
-of our languages, for in the latter inflection makes possible a certain
-variation in the arrangement of words within a sentence according
-to the particular shade of meaning desired. In primitive language,
-the arrangement is much more uniform, being governed absolutely and
-alone by the same law as prevails in gesture-language--namely, the
-arrangement of words in their perceptual order. Without exception,
-therefore, object precedes attribute, and substantive, adjective.
-Less constant, however, is the relation of verb and object, in the
-Ewe language; the verb generally precedes, but the object may come
-first; the verb, however, always follows the subject whose action it
-expresses. This perceptual character of primitive language appears most
-strikingly when we translate any thought that is at all complicated
-from a primitive language into our own, first in its general meaning,
-and then word for word. Take an illustration from the language of the
-Bushmen. The meaning would be substantially this: 'The Bushman was
-at first received kindly by the white man in order that he might be
-brought to herd his sheep; then the white man maltreated the Bushman;
-the latter ran away, whereupon the white man took another Bushman, who
-suffered the same experience,' The language of the Bushmen expresses
-this in the following way: 'Bushman-there-go, here-run-to-white man,
-white man-give-tobacco, Bushman-go-smoke, go-fill-tobacco-pouch,
-white man-give-meat-Bushman, Bushman-go-eat-meat, stand-up-go-home,
-go happily, go-sit-down, herd-sheep-white man, white man-go-strike
-Bushman, Bushman-cry-loud-pain, Bushman-go-run-away-white man, white
-man-run-after-Bushman, Bushman-then-another, this one-herd-sheep,
-Bushman-all-gone.' In this complaint of the man of nature against his
-oppressor, everything is concrete, perceptual. He does not say, The
-Bushman was at first kindly taken up by the white man, but, The white
-man gives him tobacco, he fills his pouch and smokes; the white man
-gives him meat, he eats this and is happy, etc. He does not say, The
-white man maltreats the Bushman, but, He strikes him, the Bushman
-cries with pain, etc. What we express in relatively abstract concepts
-is entirely reduced by him to separate perceptual images. His thought
-always attaches to individual objects. Moreover, just as primitive
-language has no specific means for expressing a verb, so also are
-change and action overshadowed in primitive thought by the concrete
-image. The thinking itself, therefore, may be called _concrete_.
-Primitive man sees the image with its separate parts; and, as he sees
-it, so he reproduces it in his language. It is for this very reason
-that he is unfamiliar with differences of grammatical categories and
-with abstract concepts. Sequence is still governed entirely by the
-pure association of ideas, whose order is determined by perception
-and by the recollection of that which has been experienced. The above
-narrative of the Bushman expresses no unitary thought, but image
-follows upon image in the order in which these appear to consciousness.
-Thus, the thinking of primitive man is almost exclusively associative.
-Of the more perfect form of combining concepts, the apperceptive, which
-unites the thoughts into a systematic whole, there are as yet only
-traces, such as occur in the combination of the separate memory images.
-
-Many analogues to the formal characteristics of primitive thought
-revealed in these linguistic phenomena may be met in child-language.
-There is a wide divergence, however, with respect to the very
-element which has already disappeared, with the exception of slight
-traces, from the language of primitive peoples. I refer to the
-close correlation of sound and meaning. As regards this feature,
-child-language is much more similar to gesture-language than is
-possible in the case of forms of speech that have undergone a long
-historical development. For, child-language, like gesture-language, is,
-in a certain sense, continually being created anew. Of course, it is
-not created, as is sometimes supposed, by the children themselves. It
-is a conventionalized language of the mothers and nurses who converse
-with the child, supplemented, in part, by the child's associates along
-the lines of these traditional models. The sound-complexes signifying
-animals, 'bow-wow' for the dog, 'hott-hott' for the horse, 'tuk-tuk'
-for the chicken, etc., as also 'papa' and 'mamma' for father and
-mother, are sounds that are in some way fitted to the meaning and at
-the same time resemble so far as possible the babbling sounds of the
-child. But this entire process is instituted by the child's associates,
-and is at most supplemented by the child himself to the extent of a few
-incidental elements. For this reason, child-language has relatively
-little to teach us concerning the development of speaking and
-thinking; those psychologists and teachers who believe that it affords
-an important source of information concerning the origin of thought
-are in error. Such information can be gained only from those modes of
-expressing thought which, like gesture-language, are originated anew
-by the speaker and are not externally derived, or from those which,
-like the spoken languages of primitive peoples, have retained, in their
-essential characteristics, primitive modes of thinking. Even in these
-cases it is only the _forms_ of thought that are thus discoverable. The
-content, as is implied by the formal characteristics themselves, is, of
-course, also of a sense-perceptual, not of a conceptual, nature. And
-yet the particular character or quality of this content is not inherent
-in the forms of the language as such. To gain a knowledge of its nature
-we must examine the specific ideas themselves and the associated
-feelings and emotions.
-
-Thus, then, the further question arises: Wherein consists the content
-of primitive thought? _Two_ sorts of ideas may be distinguished. The
-one comprises that stock of ideas which is supplied to consciousness
-by the direct perceptions of daily life--ideas such as go, stand, lie,
-rest, etc., together with animal, tree (particularly in the form of
-individual animals and trees), man, woman, child, I, thou, you, and
-many others. These are objects of everyday perception that are familiar
-to all, even to the primitive mind. But there is also a _second_ class
-of ideas. These do not represent things of immediate perception;
-briefly expressed, they originate in feeling, in emotional processes
-which are projected outward into the environment. This is an important
-and particularly characteristic group of primitive ideas. Included
-within it are all references to that which is not directly amenable
-to perception but, transcending this, is really _supersensuous_,
-even though appearing in the form of sensible ideas. This world of
-imagination, projected from man's own emotional life into external
-phenomena, is what we mean by _mythological_ thinking. The things and
-processes given to perception are supplemented by other realities that
-are of a non-perceptible nature and therefore belong to an invisible
-realm back of the visible world. These are the elements, furthermore,
-which very early find expression in the _art_ of primitive man.
-
-
-
-7. EARLIEST BELIEFS IN MAGIC AND DEMONS.
-
-
-In entering upon a consideration of the development of primitive myths,
-we are at once confronted by the old question disputed by mythologists,
-ethnologists, and students of religion, Where and when did religion
-originate? For is not religion always concerned with the supernatural?
-Now, in certain cases, even primitive man supplements the sensuous
-world in which he lives and whose impressions he has not so much as
-elaborated into abstract concepts, with supersensuous elements, though
-he himself, of course, is unaware of their supersensuous character. The
-question, therefore, lies near at hand: Is religion already present at
-this stage, or is there at most a potentiality of religion, the germ
-of its future development? If the latter should be true, where, then,
-does religion begin? Now, our interest in the history of myth-formation
-derives largely from the very fact that the problem is intimately bound
-up with that of the origin of religion. Merely in itself the origin of
-the myth might have relatively little interest for us. The question,
-however, as to how religion arose acquires its great importance through
-its connection with the two further questions as to whether or not
-religion is a necessary constituent of human consciousness and whether
-it is an original possession or is the result of certain preconditions
-of mythological thought.
-
-It is interesting to follow this ancient dispute, particularly its
-course during the last few decades. In 1880, Roskoff wrote a book
-entitled "The Religion of the Most Primitive Nature-Peoples." In this
-work he assembled all the available facts, and came to the conclusion
-that no peoples exist who have not some form of religion. About
-ten years ago, however, the two Sarasins, students of Ceylon and
-of the primitive Veddah tribes, summed up their conclusions in the
-proposition: The Veddahs have no religion. If, however, we compare
-Roskoff's facts concerning primitive peoples with those reported
-by the Sarasins concerning the belief of the Veddahs in demons and
-magic, it appears that the facts mentioned by these investigators are
-essentially the same. What the former calls religion, the latter call
-belief in magic; but in neither case is there a statement as to what
-is really meant by religion. Now, we cannot, of course, come to an
-understanding with reference to the presence or absence of anything
-until we are agreed as to what the thing itself really is. Hence, the
-question under dispute is raised prematurely at the present stage of
-our discussion; it can be answered only after we have examined more
-of the steps in the development of myth and of the preconditions of
-the religion of later times. We shall therefore recur to this point in
-our third chapter, after we have become acquainted with such religions
-as may indubitably lay claim to the name. Postponing the question for
-the present, we will designate the various phenomena that must be
-discussed at this point by the specific names attaching to them on the
-basis of their peculiar characteristics. In this sense, there is no
-doubt that we may speak of ideas of magic and of demons even in the
-case of primitive peoples; it is generally conceded that such ideas
-are universally entertained at this stage of culture. But the further
-question at once arises as to the source of this belief in magic and
-in demons, and as to the influences by which it is sustained. Now, in
-respect to this point _two_ views prevail, even among the ethnologists
-who have made an intensive study of primitive peoples. The one view
-may briefly be called that of nature-mythology. It assumes that even
-far back under early conditions the phenomena of the heavens were the
-objects that peculiarly fascinated the thought of man and elevated it
-above its immediate sensible environment. All mythology, therefore, is
-supposed originally to have been mythology of nature, particularly of
-the heavens. Doubtless this would already involve a religious element,
-or, at least, a religious tendency. The second view carries us even
-farther in the same direction. It holds that the ideas of primitive
-man, so far as they deal with the supersensuous, are simpler than
-those of the more highly developed peoples. Just for this reason,
-however, it regards these ideas as more perfect and as approaching more
-nearly the beliefs of the higher religions. As a matter of fact, if we
-compare, let us say, the Semangs and the Senoi, or the Veddahs, with
-the natives of Australia, we find a very great difference as regards
-this point. Even the mythology of the Australians is undoubtedly much
-more complex than that of these peoples of nature, and the farther
-we trace this myth development the greater the complexity becomes.
-That which is simple, however, is supposed to be also the higher and
-the more exalted, just as it is the more primitive. The beginning is
-supposed to anticipate the end, as a revelation not yet distorted by
-human error. For, the highest form of religion is not a mythology
-including a multitude of gods, but the belief in _one_ God--that is,
-monotheism. It was believed, therefore, that the very discovery of
-primitive man offered new support for this view. This theory, however,
-is bound up with an important anthropological consideration--the
-question concerning the place of the so-called _Pygmies_ in the
-history of human development. It was on the basis of their physical
-characteristics that these dwarf peoples of Africa and Asia, of whom
-it is only in comparatively recent times that we have gained any
-considerable knowledge, were first declared by Julius Kollman to
-be the childhood peoples of humanity, who everywhere preceded the
-races of larger stature. Such childhood characteristics, indeed, are
-revealed not only in their small stature but in other traits as well.
-Schweinfurth observed that the entire skin of the Pygmies of Central
-Africa is covered with fine, downy hair, much as is that of the newly
-born child. It is by means of these downy hairs that the Monbuttu negro
-of that region distinguishes the Pygmy from a youth of his own tribe.
-The Negrito is primitive also in that his dermal glands are abnormally
-active, causing a bodily odour which is far greater than that of
-the negro, and which, just as in the case of some animals, increases
-noticeably under the stress of emotion. If, in addition to these
-physical characteristics, we consider the low cultural level of all
-these dwarf peoples, the hypothesis that the Pygmies are a primitive
-people does not, indeed, seem altogether strange. Starting with this
-hypothesis, therefore, William Schmidt, in his work, "The Place of the
-Pygmies in the Development of Mankind" (1910), attempted to prove the
-proposition that the Pygmies are the childhood peoples of humanity
-in their mental culture no less than in their physical development.
-This being their nature, they are, of course, limited intellectually;
-morally, however, they are in a state of innocence, as is demonstrated
-among other things by the pure monogamy prevailing among them, as well
-as by their highest possession, their monotheistic belief.
-
-Now, the supposition of moral innocence rests essentially on the
-twofold assumption of the identity of primitive man with the Pygmy
-and of the legitimacy of holding that what has been observed of _one_
-tribe of Pygmies is true of the primitive condition generally. But
-this identity of primitive man with the Pygmy cannot be maintained.
-The most typical traits of primitive mental culture are doubtless to
-be found among the Veddahs of Ceylon. The Veddahs, however, are not
-really Pygmies, but are of large stature. Moreover, there are primitive
-people who are so far from being Pygmies that they belong rather to
-the tall races. We might cite the extinct Tasmanians, whose culture
-was probably a stage lower than that of the modern Australians. In
-most respects, many of the tribes of Central Australia exhibit traits
-of primitive culture, even though their social organization is of a
-far more complicated nature. Finally, all the peoples whose remains
-have been found in the oldest diluvial deposits of Europe belong to
-the tall races. On the other hand, there are peoples of small stature,
-the Chinese and the Japanese, who must be counted in the first ranks
-of cultured peoples. Thus, mental culture certainly cannot be measured
-in terms of physical size but only in terms of itself. Mental values
-can never be determined except by mental characteristics. It is true
-that W. Schmidt has sought to support his theory regarding the Pygmies
-by reference to the reports of E.H. Man, a reliable English observer.
-According to these reports, the Andamanese, one of these dwarf peoples,
-possess some remarkable legends that are doubtless indicative of
-monotheistic ideas. Since the Andamans are a group of islands in the
-Sea of Bengal and the inhabitants are therefore separated from other
-peoples by an expanse of sea, Schmidt regarded as justifiable the
-assumption that these legends were autochthonous; since, moreover, the
-legends centre about the belief in a supreme god, he contended that we
-here finally had proof of the theory of an original monotheism. The
-main outlines of the Andamanese legends as given by E.H. Man are as
-follows: The supreme god, Puluga, first created man and subsequently
-(though with regard to this there are various versions) he created
-woman. She was either created directly, as was man, or man himself
-created her out of a piece of wood, possibly a reminiscence of Adam's
-rib. Then God gave man laws forbidding theft, murder, adultery,
-etc., forbidding him, furthermore, to eat of the fruits of the first
-rainy season. But man did not keep the Divine commandments. The Lord
-therefore sent a universal flood, in which perished all living things
-with the exception of two men and two women who happened to be in
-a boat. In this story, much is naturally distorted, confused, and
-adapted to the medium into which the legend is transplanted. But that
-it points to the Biblical accounts of the Creation, Paradise, and the
-Flood, there cannot, in my opinion, be the slightest doubt. If it
-is objected that the Andamans are altogether too far separated from
-the rest of the world by the sea, and also that no missionaries have
-ever been seen on these islands, our answer would be: Whatever may be
-the 'when' and the 'how,' the _fact that_ the Biblical tradition at
-some time did come to the Andamanese is proven by the legend itself.
-This conclusion is just as incontestable as is the inference, for
-example, that the correspondence of certain South American and Asiatic
-myths is proof of a transmission. Indeed, the two latter regions are
-separated by an incomparably wider expanse of sea than that which
-divides the Andamans from Indo-China and its neighbouring islands.
-It should also be added that the inhabitants of the Andaman Islands
-have obviously progressed far beyond the condition in which we find
-the inland tribes of Malacca, the Veddahs of Ceylon, or the Negritos
-of the Philippines. They practise the art of making pottery--an art
-never found among peoples who are properly called primitive; they have
-a social organization, with chiefs. These phenomena all characterize
-a fairly advanced culture. When, therefore, we are concerned with
-the beliefs of peoples who are really primitive, the Andamanese must
-be left out of consideration. According to the available proofs,
-however, these people possess a belief neither in one god nor in many
-gods. Moreover, even far beyond the most primitive stage, no coherent
-celestial mythology may be found, such as could possibly be regarded
-as an incipient polytheism. No doubt, there are ideas concerning
-single heavenly phenomena, but these always betray an association with
-terrestrial objects, particularly with human beings or animals. And,
-to all appearances, these ideas change with great rapidity. Nowhere
-have they led to the actual formation of myths. Among the Indians of
-the Brazilian forests, for example, the sun and moon are called leaves
-or feather-balls; by several of the Soudan tribes they are conceived
-as balls that have been thrown to the sky by human beings and have
-stuck there. Such ideas alternate with others in which the sun and
-moon are regarded as brothers or as brother and sister, or the sun is
-said to be chasing the moon--images influenced particularly by the
-phenomena of the moon's phases. As a matter of fact, this whole field
-of ideas reveals only _one_ belief that is practically universal,
-appearing among peoples of nature and recurring even among civilized
-peoples. Because of the rare occurrence of the phenomenon, however,
-it has never led to a real mythology. I refer to the belief that in an
-eclipse of the sun, the sun is swallowed by a dark demon. This belief,
-obviously, is very readily suggested to the primitive imagination;
-it occurs in Central Africa, in Australia, and in America, and is
-found even in Indian mythology. Taken by itself, however, the notion
-is incapable of engendering a myth. It is to be regarded merely as
-an isolated case to be classed with a more richly developed set of
-demon-ideas that dominate the daily life of primitive man. At this
-stage, these ideas are the only elements of an incipient mythology that
-are clearly discernible and that at the same time exercise an important
-influence upon life. In so far as the mythology of primitive man gains
-a permanent foothold and influence, it consists of a _belief in magic
-and demons_. There are, however, two motives which engender this belief
-and give form and colour to the ideas and emotions springing from them.
-These are _death_ and _sickness_.
-
-Death! There are doubtless few impressions that have so powerful an
-effect upon the man of nature; indeed, civilized man as well is still
-very greatly stirred by the phenomenon of death. Let his companion
-meet with death, and even the outward actions of a primitive man
-are significant. The moment a person dies, the immediate impulse of
-primitive man is to leave him lying where he is and to flee. The
-dead person is abandoned, and the place where he died continues to
-be avoided for a long time--if possible, until animals have devoured
-the corpse. Obviously the emotion of _fear_ is regnant. Its immediate
-cause is apparently the unusual and fear-inspiring changes which death
-makes in the appearance of a man. The suspension of movements, the
-pallor of death, the sudden cessation of breathing--these are phenomena
-sufficient to cause the most extreme terror. But what is the nature of
-the ideas that associate themselves with this fearsome impression? The
-flight from the corpse is evidence that man's fears are primarily for
-himself. To tarry in the presence of a dead person exposes the living
-man to the danger of being himself overtaken by death. The source of
-this danger is evidently identical with that which has brought death
-to the recently deceased person himself. Primitive man cannot think
-of death except as the sudden departure from the dying person of that
-which originally brought life. Nevertheless, there is evidently bound
-up with this conception the further idea that powers of life are still
-resident in the body; the latter remains firmly associated in the mind
-of primitive man with the impression of life. Here, then, we have the
-original source of the contradictory idea of a something that generates
-life and is therefore independent of the body, while nevertheless being
-connected with it. So far as we can gain knowledge of the impression
-which death makes on the mind of primitive man, two disparate motives
-are indissolubly united. He regards life as something that, in part,
-continues in some mysterious manner to dwell within the corpse, and,
-in part, hovers about, invisible, in its vicinity. For this reason,
-the dead person becomes to him a _demon_, an invisible being capable
-of seizing upon man, of overpowering or killing him, or of bringing
-sickness upon him. In addition to this primitive idea of demons, we
-also find the conception of a _corporeal soul_, meaning by this the
-belief that the body is the vehicle of life, and that, so long as it
-has not itself disappeared, it continues to harbour the life within
-itself. The corporeal soul is here still regarded as a unit which
-may, by separating itself from the body, become a demon and pass over
-into another person. No certain traces are as yet to be found of
-belief in a breath or shadow-like soul. As will appear later, this is
-a characteristic feature of the transition from primitive to totemic
-culture. When some investigators report that the soul is occasionally
-referred to by the Semangs of Malacca as a small bird that soars into
-the air at the death of a person, it is not improbable that we here
-have to do either with the Semangs of culture, who have undergone
-marked changes under Malayan influence, or with the presence of an
-isolated idea that belongs to a different cultural circle. For in no
-other case are ideas similar to that of the psyche to be found on
-the level of primitive culture. On the other hand, the burial customs
-of the Malays and of the mixed races living in the immediate vicinity
-of the primitive peoples of the Malay Peninsula, already exhibit a
-striking contrast to the flight of primitive man from the corpse.
-
-The next group of ideas, those arising from the impression made by
-_sickness_, particularly by such sicknesses as attack man suddenly,
-are also restricted to the conception of a corporeal soul. For, one
-of the most characteristic marks of this conception is that magical,
-demoniacal powers are believed to issue from the body of the dead
-person. These powers, however, are not, as occurs in the above case,
-regarded as embodied in any visible thing--such as the exhalations
-of the breath or an escaping animal--that separates itself from the
-person. On the contrary, the demon that leaves the corpse and attacks
-another person in the form of a fatal sickness, is invisible. He is
-purely the result of an association between the fear aroused by the
-occurrence of death and the fright caused by an unexpected attack
-of sickness. The dead person, therefore, continues to remain the
-seat of demoniacal powers; these he can repeatedly direct against
-the living persons who approach him. Primitive man believes that the
-demon may assume any form whatsoever within the body, and deceitful
-medicine-men take advantage of this in ostensibly removing the sickness
-in the form of a piece of wood or of a stone. But it is precisely
-these ideas that are totally unrelated to that of a psyche and its
-embodiments. Though the corpse is perhaps the earliest object that
-suggests sickness-demons, it is in no wise the only one. Indeed, the
-attack of sickness is in itself sufficient to arouse fear of a demon.
-Thus, the Semangs and Senoi distinguish a vast number of different
-sickness-demons. Such ideas of demons, however, as we find among the
-Malays and the Singhalese, where demons are regarded as counter-agents
-to sickness-magic and usually take the form of fantastical animal
-monsters, never occur except at a later cultural stage. Any resemblance
-of these demons to 'soul animals,' which, as we shall find in our next
-chapter, are always actual animals, is confined to the fact that they
-have some similarity to animals. Obviously they are creations of the
-imagination, due to fear and terror. Their only difference from the
-monsters of similar origin that are projected into the outward world is
-that they are reduced to proportions which fit the dimensions of the
-human body.
-
-Closely connected with the magic of sickness is counter-magic, an
-agency by which disease is removed or the attack of sickness-demons
-warded off. Even primitive man seeks for such modes of relief. Hence,
-probably, the original formation of a special group of men, which,
-though not, of course, at the very first a fixed professional class,
-was nevertheless the precursor of the latter. Among the American
-Indians, these were the 'medicine-men'; the peoples of northern Asia
-called them 'shamans'--more generally expressed, they were magicians.
-The name 'medicine-man,' indeed, is not inappropriate. The medicine-man
-of the savages is, in truth, the predecessor of the modern physician,
-and also, in a certain sense, of the modern priest. He not only
-ministers to the individual whom he restores to health by means of
-his counter-magic, but he can himself directly practise magic. Since
-he has power over demons, he can exorcise them from the body; but he
-can also magically cause them to enter it. Thus, the medicine-man has
-a twofold calling. He is feared, but he is also valued as a helper in
-need. His position differs according as the one or the other emotion
-predominates. He was the first to investigate the effect of herbs on
-man. He probably discovered the poisons, and, by rendering the arrow
-poisonous, gained a still higher authority in the eyes of the savage.
-For the arrow, too, is a means of magic. But he also discovered methods
-of removing poisons, and thereby transformed poisonous plants into
-articles of food. His calling, then, is a supremely important one,
-though also at all times dangerous for the one who practises it. He
-is not only exposed to persecution if he fails to accomplish what is
-expected of him, or if he is suspected of evil magic, but the magician,
-when pressed by need, also becomes a deceiver. The deception of the
-medicine-man, indeed, apparently dates back to the very earliest
-times. Koch-Gruenberg tells us that among the Central Brazilians the
-medicine-men expel disease by carrying about with them a piece of wood,
-which they bring forth, after various manipulations, as the alleged
-seat of the demon. If the suggestion thus given is effective, the
-patient may, of course, feel himself improved. At any rate, we must
-not think that the mass of the people is led to lose belief in magic;
-in most cases, perhaps, the medicine-man himself remains a deceived
-deceiver.
-
-Nevertheless, on the primitive stage, death and sickness are the main
-sources of belief in magic and in demons. From this as a centre, the
-belief radiates far out into all departments of life. The belief
-in magic, for example, assumes the form of _protective magic_, of
-magical defence against demoniacal influences. In this form, it
-probably determines the original modes of dress, and, more obviously
-and permanently still, the adornment of the body. In fact, in its
-beginnings, this adornment was really designed less for decoration than
-for purposes of magic.
-
-In connection with the external culture of primitive man we have
-already noted his meagre dress, which frequently consisted merely of a
-cord of bast about the loins, with leaves suspended from it. What was
-the origin of this dress? In the tropical regions, where primitive man
-lives, it was surely not the result of need for protection; nor can we
-truthfully ascribe it to modesty, as is generally done on the ground
-that it is the genital parts that are most frequently covered. In
-estimating the causes, the questions of primary importance are rather
-those as to where the very first traces of dress appear and of what
-its most permanent parts consist. The answer to the latter question,
-however, is to be found not in the apron but in the _loin-cord_, which
-is occasionally girt about the hips without any further attempt at
-dress. Obviously this was not a means of protection against storm and
-cold; nor can modesty be said to have factored in the development of
-this article, which serves the purposes both of dress and of adornment.
-But what was its real meaning? An incident from the life of the Veddahs
-may perhaps furnish the answer to this question. When the Veddah enters
-into marriage, he binds a cord about the loins of his prospective
-wife. Obviously this is nothing else than a form of the widely current
-'cord-magic,' which plays a not inconsiderable role even in present-day
-superstition. Cord-magic aims to bring about certain results by means
-of a firmly fastened cord. This cord is not a symbol, but is, as all
-symbols originally were, a means of magic. When a cord is fastened
-about a diseased part of the body and then transferred to a tree, it
-is commonly believed that the sickness is magically transplanted into
-the tree. If the tree is regarded as representing an enemy, moreover,
-this act, by a further association, is believed to transfer sickness
-or death to the enemy through the agency of the tree. The cord-magic
-of the Veddah is obviously of a simpler nature than this. By means of
-the cord which he has himself fastened, the Veddah endeavours to secure
-the faithfulness of his wife. The further parts of primitive dress
-were developments of the loin-cord, and were worn suspended from it.
-Coincidentally with this, the original means of adornment make their
-appearance. Necklaces and bracelets, which have remained favourite
-articles of feminine adornment even within our present culture, and
-fillets about the head which, among some of the peoples of nature, are
-likewise worn chiefly by the women, are further developments of the
-loin-cord, transferred, as it were, to other parts of the body. And,
-as the first clothing was attached to the loin-cord, so also were the
-bracelet and fillet, and particularly the necklace, employed to carry
-other early means of protective magic, namely, amulets. Gradually the
-latter also developed into articles of adornment, preferably worn, even
-to-day, about the neck.
-
-The assumption that the present purpose of clothing is also the
-end that it originally served led naturally to the theory that when
-the loin-cord alone is worn--as a mere indication, seemingly, of
-the absence of clothing--this is to be regarded not as an original
-custom but as the remnant of an earlier dress now serving solely as an
-adornment. But this supposition is contradicted, in the first place,
-by the fact that the loin-cord occasionally occurs by itself precisely
-amidst the most primitive conditions, and, in the second place, by the
-general development not only of clothing as such but also of certain
-means of adorning the surface of the body, particularly painting and
-tattooing. Now, there is a general rule that development proceeds not
-from the composite to the simple, but, conversely, from the simple
-to the complex. Moreover, indications of the influence of magical
-ideas are generally the more marked according as the stages on which
-the phenomenal occur are the earlier. The loin-cord, particularly,
-is occasionally put to certain magical uses which are scarcely
-intelligible without reference to the widely prevalent cord-magic. If
-the binding of a cord of bast of his own weaving about the hips of
-his prospective wife signifies a sort of marriage ceremony for the
-Veddah, as it undoubtedly does, this must imply that the cord is a
-means of magic that binds her for life. Instances have been found of
-another remarkable and complex custom that substantiates this 'magical'
-interpretation. A man binds a loin-cord of his own weaving about the
-woman and she does the same to him--an exchange of magic-working
-fetters which is a striking anticipation of the exchange of rings
-still customary with us upon betrothal or marriage. For the exchange
-of rings, to a certain extent, represents in miniature the exchange
-of cords practised by primitive man, though there is, of course,
-this enormous difference that, in the primitive ceremony the binding
-has a purely magical significance, whereas the later act is merely
-symbolical. All these phenomena indicate that even the beginnings of
-clothing involve ideas of magic. Later, of course, a number of other
-motives also enter in, gradually leading to a change in meaning and
-to a wide departure from the idea originally entertained. Owing to
-the influence of climatic changes, there arises, in the first place,
-the need of protection; and the greater this becomes, the more does
-magic recede. And so, even among primitive tribes, the loin-cord is
-gradually replaced by the apron proper, which no longer requires a
-special cord for its support. In the course of this transition into a
-means of protection, the feeling of modesty more and more enters into
-the development as a contributing factor. According to a law operative
-everywhere, even under very different conditions, modesty is always
-connected with such parts of the body as are required by custom to be
-kept covered. To do what custom forbids arouses the feeling of shame,
-particularly in such cases as this, where the violation is so direct
-and apparent. It is for this reason that the feeling of shame may be
-aroused by the exposure of very different parts of the body. Thus, the
-Hottentot woman wears an apron in front and also one behind. The latter
-covers a cushion of fat over the seat, which is greatly developed in
-the case of the Hottentot woman and is regarded by these tribes as a
-particular mark of beauty. To a Hottentot woman it is no worse to have
-the front apron removed than for some one to take away the rear apron.
-In the latter case, she seats herself on the ground and cannot be
-made to get up until the apron has been restored to her. When Leonard
-Schultze was travelling in the Hottentot country of Namaqua Land, he
-noticed a certain Hottentot custom which strictly prescribes that the
-legs must be stretched out when one sits down upon the ground--they are
-not to be bent at the knees. When one of his companions, unfamiliar
-with the custom, sat differently, a Hottentot struck him on the knees
-so that they straightened out; when the reason was asked, the answer
-was that "this manner of sitting brings misfortune." The reply is
-significant, particularly because it shows how the feeling of shame,
-which arises at a later period in the development of the original idea
-of magic and is due to the influence of custom, itself, in turn, reacts
-associatively on the older magical ideas. The violation of custom is
-regarded as dangerous, and as a matter requiring, wherever possible,
-the employment of protective magic. The reasons for guarding against a
-violation of custom are not merely subjective, but also objective, for
-guilt is followed by punishment. Thus, there is here an intertwining of
-motives.
-
-The necklace, bracelet, finger-ring, and sometimes the head-fillet,
-occur as specific means of magic, in addition to, and in substitution
-for, the loin-cord. In more restricted localities we find also earrings
-and nose-rings, the boring through of the lips, and combs to which
-twigs and leaves are attached. Of these, the necklace has maintained
-itself far down into later culture, for it is the necklace that gives
-support to the amulet. The latter is supposed to afford protective
-magic against all possible dangers; the finger-ring, on the other
-hand, is the favourite vehicle of an active magic, changing things
-in accordance with the wishes of the owner--that is to say, it is a
-talisman. Similar in its powers to the necklace, furthermore, is the
-bracelet--found even in primitive culture--and also the head-fillet,
-which encircles the forehead and the back part of the head. The Semangs
-and Senoi of the Malaccan forests are invested with the head-fillet
-by the medicine-man, who exchanges it for another at particularly
-important turning-points of life, such, for example, as the entrance
-of the youth into manhood, or of the woman upon marriage. The
-head-fillets that have been removed are preserved in the house of the
-medicine-man. If the woman is widowed, her former fillet is placed
-on her head. This signifies the annulment of the magical union that
-existed throughout the period of marriage. Evidently this magic custom
-is closely connected with the strict observance of monogamy. These
-ceremonial changes in dress are accompanied by a similar change in
-name. On entering the married state a woman changes her name, as does
-also the youth who passes into manhood. Moreover, this change is not in
-the least a mere symbol, but represents a magical act. With the change
-in name, the individual himself becomes another person. The name is
-so closely connected with the person that even the speaking of it may
-exercise a magical influence upon him.
-
-But the magical ideas radiating from death and sickness come to be
-associated also with other external objects--objects not attached
-to the individual's person, as are clothing and adornment. Examples
-of this are implements, and, in particular, the weapon of primitive
-man, namely, the bow and arrow. The magical significance has, of
-course, frequently disappeared from the memory of the natives. The
-Sarasins saw the Veddahs execute dances about an arrow that had been
-set upright. On inquiring, the reason, they were told: 'This was done
-even by our fathers and grandfathers; why should we not also do it?'
-A similar answer could be given in the case of many, indeed, of most
-of these magical ceremonies. Those ceremonies particularly that are
-in any way complicated are passed down from generation to generation,
-being scrupulously guarded and occasionally augmented by additional
-magical elements. It is for this reason that, in the presence of the
-extraordinarily complicated dances and magical ceremonies of primitive
-peoples, we sometimes ask in amazement: How could such a wealth of
-connected ideas possibly arise and become expressed in action? To this
-it might briefly be replied that they did not arise at all as creations
-of a single moment. The meaning of the ceremonies has for the most
-part long been lost to the participants themselves, and was probably
-unknown even to their ancestors. The general reason for the various
-acts that are executed according to ancient usage is that they serve
-a magical purpose. The performers firmly believe that the acts will
-secure that which is desired, whether it be good fortune or protection
-from evil, and that the greater the care and exactitude with which
-the act is performed, the more certainly will the magical purpose be
-attained. The conditions here are really not essentially different from
-those that still prevail everywhere in the cult ceremonies of civilized
-peoples. It is the very fact that the motives are forgotten that leads
-to the enormous complexity of the phenomena. Even in the case of
-the above-mentioned dance about the arrow, there may have entered a
-considerable number of motives that were later forgotten. Of them all,
-nothing was eventually remembered except that, to insure the welfare of
-the individual and that of the group, the act prescribed by custom must
-be performed at stated times or under particular conditions.
-
-Quite secondary to these numerous irradiations of magical ideas among
-primitive peoples are the general notions connected with natural
-phenomena. A cloud may, no doubt, occasionally be regarded as a
-demon. And, as already stated, an unusual natural phenomenon, such as
-an eclipse of the sun, is likewise almost everywhere regarded as a
-demoniacal event. But, on the whole, celestial phenomena play a passing
-and an exceedingly variable role in the beliefs of primitive man.
-Moreover, while the ideas and the resultant acts engendered by death
-and sickness are, on the whole, of a uniform character, the fragments
-of celestial mythology vary in an irregular and self-contradictory
-manner. For this reason the latter cannot be regarded as having any
-important significance on the earliest plane of culture. This flatly
-contradicts a theory, still prevalent in the scientific world, to
-the effect that all mythological thinking is due to the influence of
-celestial phenomena, whether it be the moon in its changing phases,
-or the sun, the thunderstorm, or the clouds. This theory is certainly
-not valid as regards primitive man. It can be maintained only if
-we distinguish--as has, indeed, sometimes been done--between two
-completely disparate realms, a 'higher' mythology, exemplified by the
-above, and a 'lower' mythology. We shall return to this point later. We
-are here concerned with the standpoint of nature-mythology only in so
-far as it has exercised a decisive influence on the interpretation of
-the earliest manifestations of the 'lower' mythology. With respect to
-the ultimate psychological motives of mythology as a whole, including
-that of primitive man, the idea is even to-day widely current that
-mythological thought was from the very beginning a naive attempt at
-an interpretation of the phenomena which man encounters in nature or
-in his own life. That is to say, all mythology is regarded as a sort
-of primitive science, or, at any rate, as a precursor of philosophy.
-This innate need for explanation is then usually associated with an
-alleged _a priori_ principle of causality inherent in the mind. The
-mythological view of nature, therefore, is supposed to be nothing
-but an application--imperfect as yet, to be sure--of the causal law
-to the nexus of phenomena. But if we call to mind the condition of
-natural man as revealed in his actions, no trace can be found of
-any need for explanation such as requires the initial employment of
-the concept of causality. Indeed, as regards the phenomena of daily
-life and those that surround him on all hands and constantly recur
-in a uniform manner, primitive man experiences no need at all for
-explanation. For him everything is as it is just because it has always
-been so. Just as he dances about an arrow because his father and his
-grandfather practised this custom in the past, so also does he hold
-that the sun rises to-day because it rose yesterday. The regularity
-with which a phenomenon recurs is for him sufficient testimony and
-explanation of its existence. Only that which arouses his emotion and
-calls forth particularly fear and terror comes to be an object of
-magical and demoniacal belief. The primitive level of mythological
-thought differs from the more developed stage in also another respect.
-In the former case, the phenomena that are most apt to arouse ideas
-of magic and of demons are those that concern man himself and that
-arouse fear and terror. But here again death and sickness are of
-greatest importance. True, a thunderstorm may occasionally find a
-place in the nexus of magical ideas, or an eclipse of the sun, or some
-other natural phenomenon--and this occurs the more readily according
-as the phenomenon is the more unusual and striking. The regularly
-recurring features of the primitive myth, however, have their source
-in the immediate environment and in the facts of personal experience,
-in fear and terror. Thus, it is not intelligence nor reflection as
-to the origin and interconnection of phenomena that gives rise to
-mythological thinking, but emotion; ideas are only the material which
-the latter elaborates. The idea of a corporeal soul, present in the
-corpse yet also capable of abandoning it and of becoming a dangerous
-demon, is a creation of the emotion of fear. The demons who possess the
-sick man and cause his death, or who depart from him in convalescence,
-are products of emotion. They are supersensible, as is the soul,
-because they are born purely of emotion. Nevertheless, they always tend
-to assume a sensible nature, being imaged either as men, or as external
-things, such as animals, plants, weapons, and implements. Only in the
-course of later development are the demons themselves equipped with
-relatively permanent qualities that differ from the characteristics of
-the vehicles in which they are regarded as embodied.
-
-Thus, then, we utterly confuse primitive thinking with our own
-scientific standpoint when we explain it by the need for the
-interpretation of phenomena. Causality, in our sense of the word, does
-not exist for primitive man. If we would speak of causality at all
-on his level of experience, we may say only that he is governed by
-the causality of magic. This, however, receives its stamp, not from
-the laws that regulate the connection of ideas, but from the forces
-of emotion. The mythological causality of emotional magic is no less
-spasmodic and irregular than the logical causality arising out of
-the orderly sequence of perceptions and ideas is constant. That the
-former preceded the latter is, nevertheless, of great importance.
-For the causality of natural law, as we know it, would hardly have
-been possible had not magical causality prepared the way for it. Yet
-the later arose from the earlier just at that moment in which the
-attention of men ceased to be held by the unusual, the startling,
-and the fearful, and occupied itself with the orderly, the regular,
-and commonplace. For this reason the very greatest advance in the
-investigation of natural laws was made by Galileo, when he took as
-the object of his research that which was the most commonplace, the
-falling of a body to the earth. Primitive man did not reflect about
-this phenomenon nor, until a long time afterwards, did civilized
-man. That a body should fall to the earth when thrown upwards 'is
-self-evident' because it is thus that bodies have always acted. An
-echo of this primitive view remains even in the older physics, which,
-following Aristotle, tells us that a body falls because the centre of
-the earth is its natural point of rest--that is, to put it otherwise,
-it must behave as it does because it has always done so.
-
-
-
-8. THE BEGINNINGS OF ART.
-
-
-Though mythological thinking, particularly on the level of belief in
-demons and magic, has but slight connection with later science, it
-stands in close relation to the beginnings of _art_. This relation
-appears, among other things, in the fact that the simplest forms of
-the one are connected with the simplest forms of the other. This
-connection is twofold. Ideas of magic are, in a certain sense,
-projected into the products of art; art, on the other hand, being the
-means whereby mythological thinking finds expression, reacts upon
-magical ideas and brings about an enhancement of their motives. This
-is particularly apparent, in the beginnings of art, in the fact that,
-as viewed by civilized man, primitive peoples have brought but _one_
-art to a high degree of perfection, the _art of dancing_. For no other
-form of artistic expression is early man better endowed. His body is
-incomparably more supple than that of civilized races. The life of the
-forest, the climbing of trees, and the capturing of game qualify him
-for performances that would prove difficult to a modern art-dancer. All
-who have witnessed the dancing of men of nature have marvelled at their
-great skill and dexterity, and especially at their wonderful ability
-in respect to postures, movements, and mimetic expression. Originally,
-the dance was a means for the attainment of magical ends, as we may
-conjecture from the fact that even at a very early stage it developed
-into the cult dance. Nevertheless, from the very beginning it obviously
-also gave rise to pleasure, and this caused it to be re-enacted in
-playful form. Thus, even the earliest art ministered not only to
-external needs but also to the subjective life of pleasure. The direct
-source of the latter is one's own movements and their accompanying
-sensations. The dance of the group enhances both the emotion and the
-ability of the individual. This appears clearly in the dances executed
-by the inland tribes of Malacca. These peoples do not seem to have any
-round dances. The individual dancer remains at a fixed spot, though he
-is able, without leaving his place, to execute marvellous contortions
-and movements of the limbs. These movements, moreover, combine
-with those of his companions to form an harmonious whole. They are
-controlled, however, by still another factor, the attempt to imitate
-animals. It is true that, on the primitive level proper, the animal
-does not play so dominant a role as in later times. Nevertheless, the
-imitation of animals in the dance already foreshadows the totemic
-period. Some individuals are able, while remaining at a fixed spot,
-to imitate with striking life-likeness the movements of even small
-animals, and this is regarded as art of the highest order. Yet the
-animal-mask, which is later commonly used in cult and magic, is here as
-yet entirely lacking. These very mimic and pantomimic dances, however,
-unquestionably bear the traces of magic. When the Veddah imitates
-game-animals while executing his dance about the arrow, the arrow is
-without doubt regarded as a means of magic, and we may conjecture that
-the game-animals that are struck by an arrow are supposed actually to
-succumb as a result of this mimetic performance.
-
-Among primitive peoples, the dance is not, as a rule, accompanied by
-music. At most, means of producing noise are introduced, their purpose
-being to indicate the rhythm. The simplest of these noise-instruments
-consists of two wooden sticks that are beaten together. The drum is
-also common at a very early time; yet it was probably introduced from
-without. The real musical accompaniment of the dance is furnished by
-the human voice in the _dance-song_. It would, of course, be wrong to
-suppose that because the dance originally served purposes of magic,
-the dance-song was a sort of primitive cult-song. Of such songs as the
-latter no traces occur until later. The contents of the early songs
-are derived from the most commonplace experiences of life. The songs
-really consist of detached fragments of purely descriptive or narrative
-prose, and have no inner connection with the motives of the dance.
-That which characterizes them as songs is the refrain. One might say
-without qualification that this poetic form of speech begins with the
-refrain. The song has grown up out of selected natural sounds. Anything
-that has been done or observed may serve as content of the song. After
-such material has once been employed, it is continually repeated. Thus
-it becomes a folk-song that is sung particularly during the dance. The
-melody is of a very monotonous character; could it be translated into
-our notes, we would find that in the songs of the Veddahs or of the
-inland tribes of Malacca, the melody moves at most within the range
-of a sixth. Moreover, there is an absence of harmonic intervals, so
-that, not having been phonographically recorded, the songs cannot
-be reproduced in our notes except with great uncertainty. Of their
-content, the following illustrations may give us some idea. One, of the
-songs of the Veddahs runs as follows:--
-
-  The doves of Taravelzita say kuturung.
-  Where the talagoya is roasted and eaten, there blew a wind,
-  Where the memmina is roasted and eaten, there blew a wind,
-  Where the deer is roasted and eaten, there blew a wind.
-
-
-On a somewhat higher level stands the following song of the Semangs. It
-refers to the ring-tailed lemur (macaco), a monkey species very common
-in the forests of Malacca; by the Semangs it is called 'kra':--
-
-  He runs along the branches, the kra,
-  He carries the fruit with him, the kra,
-  He runs to and fro, the kra;
-  Over the living bamboo, the kra,
-  Over the dead bamboo, the kra;
-
-  He runs along the branches, the kra,
-  He leaps about and screams, the kra,
-  He permits glimpses of himself, the kra,
-  He shows his grinning teeth, the kra.
-
-As is clear, we have here simply observations, descriptions of that
-which the Semang has seen when watching the lemur in the forest. This
-description, of course, serves only as the material for the music of
-speech; that which is really musical is the refrain, which in this case
-consists simply of the word _kra_. This music of speech exalts and
-supplements the dance; when all parts of the body are in motion the
-articulatory organs also tend to participate. It is only the modern
-art-dance which has substituted an instrumental accompaniment for the
-voice and has thus been able to suppress the natural expression of
-emotions. But, even in our culture, the emotions receive active, vocal
-expression in the folk-dances of our villages.
-
-Musical instruments, in the strict sense of the word, are almost
-unknown to primitive man. Where somewhat complex forms occur, they
-appear to have been imported. Such, for example, is the bamboo
-nose-flute, occasionally found among the inland tribes of the Malay
-Peninsula. The nose-flute is similar to our flutes, except that it
-is blown from above instead of from the side, and is not played by
-means of the mouth, but is placed against one of the nostrils, so
-that the side of the nose serves as the tone-producing membrane. It
-has from three to five holes that may be covered with the fingers.
-This instrument is a genuine product of Melanesia, and was doubtless
-acquired from this region by the Malayan tribes. Of earlier origin,
-no doubt, are _stringed instruments_. These are to be found even
-among primitive peoples. The forms that occur in Malacca have, in
-this case also, obviously come from Oceania. But, on the other hand,
-an instrument has been found among the Bushmen and the neighbouring
-peoples which may be regarded as the most primitive of its kind and
-which throws important light on the origin of musical instruments
-of this sort. A bow, essentially similar to that which he employs
-in the chase, affords the Bushman a simple stringed instrument. The
-string of the bow now becomes the string of a musical instrument.
-Its tones, however, cannot be heard distinctly by any one except the
-player himself. He takes one end of the bow between his teeth and sets
-the string into vibration with his finger. The resonance of the bones
-of his head then causes a tone, whose pitch he may vary by holding
-the string at the middle or at some other point, and thus setting
-only a part of the string into vibration. Of this tone, however,
-practically no sound reaches the external world. On the other hand,
-the tone produces a very strong effect on the player himself, being
-powerfully transmitted through the teeth to the firm parts of the skull
-and reaching the auditory nerves through a direct bone-conduction.
-Thus, then, it is a remarkable fact that music, the most subjective
-of the arts, begins with the very stringed instruments which are the
-most effective in arousing subjective moods, and with a form in which
-the pleasure secured by the player from his playing remains purely
-subjective. But, from this point on, the further development to
-tone-effects that are objective and are richer in gradations is reached
-by simple transitions effected by association. The _one_ string, taken
-over from the bow used in the chase, is no longer sufficient. Hence
-the bridge appears, which consists of a piece of wood whose upper side
-is fastened at the middle of the bow and whose lower side is toothed
-for the reception of several strings. The strings also are perfected,
-by being made of threads detached from the bamboo of which the bow
-is constructed. Then follows a second important advance. Instead of
-taking the end of the bow in his mouth and using his own head as a
-resonator, the player makes use of a hollow gourd and thus renders the
-tone objectively audible. The best and most direct point of connection
-between the gourd and the bow proves to be the end of the stick that
-carries the bridge. It is now no longer the head of the player that
-furnishes the resonance, but the substituted calabash. In its external
-appearance the calabash resembles the head--indeed, upon other
-occasions also, it is sometimes regarded as a likeness of the head,
-and eyes, mouth, and nose are cut into its rind. Thus, the association
-of the gourd with the head may possibly have exerted an influence upon
-this step in the development of the musical instrument. Perhaps the
-inventor himself did not realize until after the artificial head came
-into use that he had made a great advance in the perfection of his
-instrument. His music was now audible to others as well as to himself.
-
-Another instrument also, the _bull-roarer_, dates back to the
-beginnings of music, though its development, of course, differed from
-that of the zither. The bull-roarer, indeed, is an instrument of
-tone and noise that is to be found only among relatively primitive
-peoples. True, it does not reach its highest development among those
-peoples who, from a sociological point of view, occupy the lowest
-plane of culture; it becomes an instrument of magic, as we shall see,
-only within the totemic culture of Australia. Nevertheless, there has
-been discovered, again among the Bushmen, a form of bull-roarer of an
-especially primitive character. Doubtless that which led primitive
-man to the invention of the zither was the tone which he heard in his
-everyday experience in war or in the hunt when he applied an arrow
-to his bow. No doubt, also, it was the whirring noise of the arrow,
-or that, perhaps, of the flying bird which the arrow imitates, that
-led him to reproduce this noise in a similar manner. Indeed, in South
-Africa, the bull-roarer, though, of course, used only as a plaything,
-occurs in a form that at once reminds one of a flying bird or arrow.
-The feather of a bird is fastened at right angles to a stick of wood.
-When the stick is vigorously swung about in a circle, a whistling
-noise is produced, accompanied, particularly when swung with great
-rapidity, by a high tone. This tone, however, is not capable of further
-perfection, so that no other musical instrument developed from the
-bull-roarer. The contrary, rather, is true. In other forms of the
-bull-roarer in which the feathers were displaced by a flat wooden
-board--whose only resemblance to a bird was a slight similarity in
-form--the noise was more intense but the tone less clear. For this
-reason the bull-roarer soon lost its place in the ranks of musical
-instruments and became purely an instrument of magic, in which function
-also it was used only temporarily. In many parts of the world,
-moreover, there is a similar primitive implement, the _rattle_, whose
-status is the same as that of the bull-roarer.
-
-It was in connection with ideas of magic and of demons that _formative
-art_ or, as it would perhaps be truer to say, the elements from which
-this art proceeded, was developed. Such art was not unknown even
-to the primitive peoples of the pretotemic age. If anywhere, it is
-doubtless among the primitive tribes of Malacca and Ceylon that we
-can, in some measure and with some certainty, trace formative art to
-its earliest beginnings and to the causes back of these. The Bushman
-must here be excluded from consideration, since, as we shall see, he
-was clearly affected by external influences. The Veddahs, as well as
-the Senoi and Semangs, are familiar with only the simplest forms of
-linear decoration. Yet this makes it evident that simple lines, such as
-can be produced by cutting or by scratching, form the starting-point
-of almost all later development. Here again it is the bamboo that is
-utilized, its wood being a material suitable for these simple artistic
-attempts. Its connection with art is due also to the fact that it is
-used in the manufacture of implements and weapons, such as the bow
-and the digging-stick, and, later, the blow-pipe and the flute. As
-important objects of adornment, we find the combs of the women, which,
-among the Malaccan tribes, are extremely rich in linear decorations.
-At first, the dominant motive is the triangle. Just as the triangle
-is the simplest rectilinear figure of geometry, so also is it the
-simplest closed ornamental pattern. The weapons not infrequently have
-a series of triangles included within two parallel straight lines.
-This illustrates in its simplest form the universal characteristic of
-primitive ornaments, namely, uniform repetition. The pattern later
-becomes more complicated; the triangles are crossed by lines between
-which there are spaces that are also triangular in form. Such figures
-are then further combined into double triangles having a common base,
-etc. These are followed by other forms, in which simple arcs take the
-place of straight lines. For example, an arc is substituted for the
-base of each triangle, again with absolute uniformity. Finally, the
-arc, in the form of the segment of a circle, is utilized independently,
-either in simple repetition or in alternation. These simple designs
-then become increasingly complex by the combination either of the forms
-as a whole or of some of their parts. This multiplication of motives
-reaches its most artistic development in the women's combs found among
-the tribes of the Malay Peninsula. The comb, in some form or other,
-is a very common article of adornment among peoples of nature. But it
-is just in the form in which it occurs among the Senoi and Semangs
-that the comb gives evidence of having originally been, at most, only
-incidentally an article of adornment and of having only gradually come
-to be exclusively a decoration. In shape, it is like the women's combs
-of to-day. The teeth are pointed downwards, and serve the purpose of
-fastening the hair. The upper part forms a broad crest. But among
-these peoples the crest is the main part of the comb, the function
-of the teeth being merely to hold it to the head. For the crest is
-decorated in rich profusion with the above-mentioned ornamentations,
-and, if we ask the Semangs and the Senoi what these mean, we are told
-that they guard against diseases. In the Malay Peninsula, the men do
-not wear combs, evidently for the practical reason that, because of
-their life in the forest and their journeys through the underbrush,
-they cut their hair short. In other regions which have also evolved
-the comb, as in Polynesia, such conditions do not prevail; the comb,
-therefore, is worn by both men and women. In this, its earliest, use,
-however, the comb as such is clearly less an object of adornment than a
-means of magic. It serves particularly as a sort of amulet, to protect
-against sickness-demons. For this reason the ornamental lines in their
-various combinations are regarded as referring to particular diseases.
-The marks which a Semang woman carries about with her on her comb are
-really magical signs indicating the diseases from which she wishes to
-be spared. The head would appear to be a particularly appropriate place
-for wearing these magical signs. It is to magical ideas, therefore,
-that we must probably look for the origin of this very common means of
-adornment. In Malacca, indeed, the combs are carefully preserved; the
-drawings made upon them render them, as it were, sacred objects. But it
-is impossible to learn directly from the statements of the natives just
-how primitive articles of adornment came to acquire the significance
-of ornaments. Our only clue is the fact that the decorations on the
-bows and blow-pipes are supposed to be magical aids to a successful
-hunt; for, among the representations, there are occasionally those
-of animals. This fact we may bring into connection with observations
-made by Karl von den Steinen among the Bakairi of Central Brazil.
-This investigator here found remarkable ornamentations on wood. All
-of these were of a simple geometrical design, just as in the case of
-other primitive peoples, yet they were interpreted by the natives not
-as means of magic but as representations of objects. A consecutive
-series of triangles whose angles were somewhat rounded off, was
-interpreted as a snake, and a series of squares whose angles touched,
-as a swarm of bees. But the representations included also other things
-besides animals. For example, a vertical series of triangles in which
-the apexes pointed downwards and touched the bases of the next lower
-triangles, was regarded as a number of women's aprons--the upper part
-was the girdle, and, attached to this, the apron. In a word, primitive
-man is inclined to read concrete objects of this kind into his simple
-ornamental lines. That we also can still voluntarily put ourselves into
-such an attitude, is testified to by Karl von den Steinen himself, when
-he tells us that he succeeded without particular effort in discovering
-similar objects in certain simple ornamentations. We here have a case
-of the psychical process of assimilation. This is characteristic of all
-consciousness, but, as might be supposed, from the fact that primitive
-peoples live continuously in the open, it is more strongly in evidence
-among them than among civilized races.
-
-But the question now arises, Which came first? Did the Bakairi really
-wish to represent snakes, bees, women's aprons, etc., and reduce these
-to geometrical schematizations? Or did he, without such intention,
-first make simple linear decorations, and later read into them, through
-imaginative association, the memory images of objects? The latter is
-doubtless the case. For it is much easier first to draw simple lines
-and then to read complicated objects into them than it is, conversely,
-to reduce these pictures at the outset to abstract geometrical
-schemata. Indeed, when the Bakairi wishes to draw real objects, he
-proceeds just as our children do: he copies them as well as he can.
-For example, the Bakairi occasionally draws fishes in the sand for
-the purpose of marking out a path, or he attempts to reproduce men
-and animals in a way strikingly similar to our children's drawings.
-Evidently, therefore, it was not inability to draw the objects
-themselves that gave rise to these primitive geometrical decorations.
-The decorations came first, and the memory images of the objects of
-daily perception were then read into them. The answer, however, to the
-question as to why primitive man produces decorations at all, is easily
-found by calling to mind the motives discernible in such uniform and
-simple series of figures as the triangles and arcs which the Senoi
-and the Semangs cut into bamboo. Because of the character of his
-locomotor organs, primitive man repeats the movements of the dance at
-regular intervals, and this rhythm gives him pleasure. Similarly, he
-derives pleasure even from the regularly repeated movements involved
-in making the straight lines of his drawings, and this pleasure is
-enhanced when he sees the symmetrical figures that arise under his
-hand as a result of his movements. The earliest aesthetic stimuli are
-symmetry and rhythm. We learn this even from the most primitive of
-all arts, the dance. Just as one's own movements in the dance are an
-aesthetic expression of symmetry and rhythm, so also are these same
-characteristics embodied in the earliest productions of pictorial
-art--in the beginning indeed, they alone are to be found. The primitive
-song comes to be a song only as a result of the regular repetition
-of a refrain that in itself is unimportant. As soon as primitive man
-produces lines on wood, his pleasure in rhythmic repetition at once
-leads him to make these symmetrical. It is for this reason that we
-never find decorations that consist merely of a single figure--a
-single triangle, for instance--but always find a considerable number
-of figures together, either above one another, or side by side, or
-both combined, though the last arrangement occurs only at a somewhat
-more advanced stage. If, now, these decorations are more and more
-multiplied by reason of the increasing pleasure in their production,
-we naturally have figures that actually resemble certain objects.
-This resemblance is strengthened particularly by the repetition of
-the figures. A single square with its angles placed vertically and
-horizontally would scarcely be interpreted as a bee, even by a Bakairi;
-but in a series of such squares we ourselves could doubtless imagine
-a swarm of bees. Thus there arise representations resembling animals,
-plants, and flowers. Because of their symmetrical form, the latter
-particularly are apt to become associated with geometrical designs. Yet
-on the whole the animal possesses a greater attraction. The animal that
-forms the object of the hunt is carved upon the bow or the blow-pipe.
-This is a means of magic that brings the animal within range of the
-weapon. It is magic, likewise, that affords the explanation of the
-statement of the Senoi and the Semangs that the drawings on the combs
-of their women are a means of protection against diseases. These two
-sorts of purposes illustrate the two forms of magic that are still
-exemplified on higher cultural levels by the amulet, on the one hand,
-and the talisman, on the other--protection from danger, and assistance
-in one's personal undertakings. Now it is easy to understand how
-especially the complicated decorations on the combs of the Malaccan
-tribes may, through the familiar processes of psychical assimilation,
-come to be regarded as living beings, in the form either of animals
-or of plants, and how these forms in turn may come to be interpreted
-as sickness-demons. For, these demons are beings that have never been
-seen; hence the terrified imagination may all the more readily give
-them the most fantastic shapes. Indeed, we still find examples of
-this in the more elaborate pictures of the art of some semi-cultural
-peoples. Thus also are explained many of the masks used among the most
-diverse peoples. It is almost always grotesque animal or human masks
-that are employed to represent fear-demons. The freer the sway of the
-imagination, the easier it is to see the figure of a demon in any
-decoration whatsoever. The multiplicity of the ornamental drawings,
-moreover, meets the need for distinguishing a great number of such
-demons, so that a woman of the Senoi or the Semangs carries about on
-her head the demoniacal representation of all known diseases. For,
-according to an ancient law of magic, the demon himself has a twofold
-role--he both causes the sickness and protects against it. Just as a
-picture is identified with its object, so also is the drawing that
-represents or portrays the sickness-demon regarded as the demon itself.
-Whoever carries it about is secure against its attack. Both magic
-and counter-magic spring from a common source. The medicine-man who
-exercises counter-magic must also be familiar with magic. The two are
-but divergent forms of the same magical potency that has its birth in
-the emotions of fear and terror.
-
-In summary of what we have thus far learned with regard to the art of
-drawing among primitive men, it may be said that this art is throughout
-one of _magic_ and _adornment_. These are the _two_ motives from which
-it springs, and which, apparently, co-operate from the outset. The mere
-drawing of lines in regular and symmetrical repetition is due to that
-regularity of movement which also finds expression in the dance and,
-even prior to this, in ordinary walking and running. But the artist
-himself then attributes a hidden meaning to that which he has created.
-Astonishment at his creation fuses with his pleasure in it, and his
-wonder at the picture that he has produced makes of it, when animated
-and retransformed by the imagination, a magical object. The pictures
-carried about on the person, or wrought on an object of daily use,
-assist in guarding against diseases and other injuries, or they assure
-the success of the weapon and the implement.
-
-In view of these characteristics of a purely magical and decorative
-art, it may perhaps at first glance cause surprise that there should
-be a people which, although primitive in other essential respects, has
-far transcended this stage in artistic attainment, and has, apparently,
-followed an entirely different direction in its pathway to art. Such
-are the Bushmen. The primitive tribes mentioned above show no traces
-of an art of drawing; beyond suggestions of a single object, it is
-absolutely impossible to find representations of objects and their
-groupings such as are common in the pictures of the Bushmen, which
-portray particularly animals and, to a less extent, men. This is all
-the more significant in view of the fact that, while the Bushmen
-also decorate their weapons and utensils with magical and ornamental
-designs, these are of far less importance than in the case of the
-primitive tribes referred to above. The painting of the Bushmen,
-however, is obviously neither magical nor decorative in character.
-Originally these pictures seem to have been drawn in caves; at any
-rate, it is here that many of them have been found. We have already
-indicated the importance of this primitive dwelling for the beginnings
-of a memorial art. When external impressions are absent, as in the
-cave, the imagination is all the more impelled to preserve memories
-in self-created pictures. The simpler of these resemble, in their
-characteristics, the drawings and paintings of present-day children.
-But we can plainly distinguish the more primitive work from that which
-is more advanced; the latter frequently reproduces its objects with
-accuracy, particularly animals, such, for example, as the elk and also
-the giraffe, which is a favourite object, probably because of its long
-neck. Occasionally, indeed, a quadruped is still represented in profile
-with only two legs, but most of the pictures are certainly far beyond
-this childish mode of drawing. In general, mineral pigments were used
-from the very outset, particularly red iron ore, blue vitriol, etc. We
-also find mixtures of pigments, so that almost all colours occur. Now
-it might, of course, be supposed that such a picture of an animal has
-the same significance as attaches to the drawing occasionally executed
-on the bow of a primitive man for the purpose of magically insuring the
-weapon of its mark. But the very places where these paintings occur,
-far removed as they are from chase and battle, militate against such
-a supposition. An even greater objection is the fact that the more
-perfect pictures represent scenes from life. One of them, for example,
-portrays the meeting of Bushmen with white men, as is evident partly
-from the colour and partly from the difference in the size of the
-figures. Another well-known picture represents the way in which the
-Bushmen steal cattle from a Bantu tribe. The Bantus are represented by
-large figures, the Bushmen by small ones; in a lively scene, the latter
-drive the animals away, while the far-striding Bantus remain far in
-the rear. The picture reveals the joy of the primitive artist over the
-successful escapade. This is not magical art, but plainly exemplifies
-the first products of a memorial art. The one who painted these
-pictures desired first of all to bring before his memory that which he
-had experienced, and he doubtless also wished to preserve these scenes
-to the memory of his kinsmen. This is memorial art in a twofold sense.
-Memory renews the experiences of the past, and it is for memory that
-the past is to be retained. But this art also must still be classed as
-primitive, for it has not as yet attained to the level of _imitative_
-art. It is not an art that reproduces an object by a direct comparison
-of picture with copy. This is the sense in which the present-day
-portrait or landscape painter practises imitation. Even where the
-primitive era transcended a merely magical or decorative art, it did
-not advance beyond memorial art. The Bushman did not have the objects
-themselves before him, but created his pictures in accordance with his
-memory of them. Moreover, suited as the cave is to the development
-of a memorial art, it of itself makes imitative art impossible. But
-how can we account for the fact that the primitive tribe of Bushmen
-attained to a level of art whose exclusion of magical motives ranks
-it as relatively advanced, and which must be estimated all the more
-highly because it is not shared by the neighbouring African tribes? The
-Hottentots, for example, no less than the Bechuanas and the Bantus,
-are inferior in artistic accomplishments to the Bushmen, although the
-culture of the latter is in other respects far below the level of that
-of the former. May we say of this memorial art what seems probable
-as regards the magical and decorative art of the inland tribes of
-Malacca and of Ceylon, namely, that it arose independently from the
-same original motives as the dance? The answer to this question depends
-primarily upon the antiquity of these art productions. Do they date
-back to an immemorial past, as we may suppose to be the case with the
-decorations of the Veddahs and the Malaccan tribes? There are two
-considerations, principally, that prove the contrary, namely, that they
-are relatively recent creations. In the first place, the paintings
-present the pictures of animals, in particular of the horse and the
-sheep, with which the Bushman has been acquainted at farthest since
-the latter part of the eighteenth century. True, these animals were
-brought into Cape Colony as early as the seventeenth century; it was
-clearly not until later, however, that the Bushmen became familiar with
-them. A second consideration is the remarkable circumstance that these
-primitive painters employ essentially the same tools as the Europeans.
-This art has now, indeed, almost disappeared, the race having been
-crowded back and depleted. But the remains show that the painters
-possessed a stone plate on which they mixed their paints and also a
-stone pounder with which the mixing was done--that is, a palette and a
-pestle. Indeed, for applying the colours they occasionally utilized a
-paint-brush made of fine splinters of bone, though some, no doubt, were
-content to do this with the fingers.
-
-These are all signs which certainly suggest a not very distant past.
-Moreover, art products cannot resemble each other in so many respects
-without having some connection in origin. Added to this is the fact
-that the very character of such pictures as are still in existence
-scarcely allows us to regard them as more than sixty to seventy
-years old. From all of this we must conclude that this art is not
-primitive at all, but was imported, resembling in this many other
-things that gain entrance into the life of a primitive tribe. If the
-essential elements of the Biblical account of the Creation reached
-the Andamanese, who in other respects are primitive, why may we not
-also suppose that a wandering European artist at one time came to
-the Bushmen, even before any other elements of European culture had
-become accessible to them? Nevertheless, the fact that this painting
-exists indicates the presence of a remarkable talent. This brings us to
-our last problem in the psychology of primitive man, to the question
-concerning his mental equipment in general.
-
-
-
-9. THE INTELLECTUAL AND MORAL CHARACTERISTICS OF PRIMITIVE MAN.
-
-
-For a general estimate of the mental characteristics of a race or a
-tribe, the observation of a single individual or of several individuals
-is not adequate. Judgment can be based only on the totality of the
-various mental phases of culture--language, custom, myth, and art. But,
-if we would also obtain a conception of the mental capacities of a
-people or a tribe, we must take into further consideration the mental
-endowment of the _individual_. For, in the case of mental capacity,
-we must consider not merely that which has actually been achieved but
-also everything within the possibility of attainment. Here, again, the
-standpoint differs according as we are concerned (to limit ourselves
-to the two most important and typical aspects) with an _intellectual_
-or a _moral_ estimate. These two aspects, the intellectual, taken in
-its widest sense, and the moral, are not only of supreme importance,
-but, as experience shows, they in no wise run parallel courses. For an
-understanding of mental development in general, therefore, and of the
-relation of these its aspects, the early conditions of human culture
-are particularly significant.
-
-If, now, we consider the general cultural conditions of primitive
-man, and recall the very meagre character of his external cultural
-possessions as well as his lack of any impulse to perfect these, we
-may readily be led to suppose that his intellectual capacities also
-have remained on a very low plane of development. How, some have asked,
-could the Bushman have dispensed for decades with firearms--just as
-accessible to him as to the surrounding tribes--unless he possessed
-a low degree of intelligence? Even more true is this of the Negritos
-of the Philippines or the Veddahs of Ceylon. How, unless their
-mental capacities were essentially more limited than those of their
-neighbours, could they have lived in the midst of highly cultivated
-tribes and have remained for decades on an unchanged mental level? But
-we need to bear in mind two considerations that are here decisive. The
-first of these is the _limited nature of the wants_ of primitive man,
-a condition fostered, no doubt, by his relatively small intercourse
-with neighbouring peoples. Added to this is the fact that up to very
-recent times--for here also many changes have arisen--the primitive
-man of the tropics has found plenty of game and plant food in his
-forests, as well as an abundance of material for the clothing and
-adornment to which he is accustomed. Hence he lacks the incentive to
-strive for anything beyond these simple means of satisfying his wants.
-It is agreed, particularly by the investigators who have studied those
-tribes of Malacca and Ceylon that have remained primitive, that the
-most outstanding characteristic of primitive man is contentment. He
-seeks for nothing further, since he either finds all that he desires
-in his environment, or, by methods handed down from the ancient past,
-knows how he may produce it out of the material available to him. For
-this reason the Semangs and Senoi, no less than the Veddahs, despise
-as renegades those mixed tribes that have arisen through union, in the
-one case, with the Malays, and, in the other, with the Singhalese and
-Tamils. All the more firmly, therefore, do they hold to that which
-was transmitted to them by their fathers. Together with this limited
-character of their wants, we find a fixity of conditions, due to their
-long isolation. The longer a set of customs and habits has prevailed
-among a people, the more difficult it is to overturn. Prior to any
-change we must, in such cases, first have mighty upheavals, battles,
-and migrations. To what extent all deeper-going changes of culture are
-due to racial fusions, migrations, and battles we shall presently see.
-The tribes that have remained relatively primitive to this day have led
-a peaceful existence since immemorial times. Of course, the individual
-occasionally slays the man who disturbs his marriage relations or
-trespasses upon his hunting-grounds. Otherwise, however, so long as he
-is not obliged to protect himself against peoples that crowd in upon
-him, primitive man is familiar with the weapon only as an implement
-of the chase. The old picture of a war of all with all, as Thomas
-Hobbes once sketched the natural state of man, is the very reverse of
-what obtained. The natural condition is one of peace, unless this is
-disturbed by external circumstances, one of the most important of which
-is contact with a higher culture. The man of nature, however, suffers
-less from an advanced culture than he does from the barbarism of
-semi-culture. But whenever a struggle arises for the possession of the
-soil and of the means of subsistence which it furnishes, semi-culture
-may come to include more peoples than are usually counted as belonging
-to it. The war of extermination against the red race was carried on by
-the pious New England Puritans with somewhat different, though with
-scarcely better, weapons than the Hottentots and Herero to-day turn
-against the Bushmen, or the Monbuttus against the Negritos of Central
-Africa.
-
-It is characteristic of primitive culture that it has failed to advance
-since immemorial times, and this accounts for the uniformity prevalent
-in widely separated regions of the earth. This, however, does not at
-all imply that, within the narrow sphere that constitutes his world,
-the intelligence of primitive man is inferior to that of cultural man.
-If we call to mind the means which the former employs to seek out, to
-overtake, and to entrap his game, we have testimony both of reflection
-and, equally so, of powers of observation. In order to capture the
-larger game, for example, the Bushman digs large holes in the ground,
-in the middle of which he constructs partitions which he covers with
-brush. An animal that falls into such a hole cannot possibly work its
-way out, since two of its legs will be on one side of the partitional
-division and two on the other. Smaller animals are captured by traps
-and snares similar to those familiar to us. The Negritos of the
-Philippines, furthermore, employ a very clever method for securing
-wild honey from trees without exposing themselves to injury from the
-bees. They kindle a fire at the foot of the tree, causing a dense
-smoke. Enveloped by this, an individual climbs the tree and removes the
-object of his desire, the smoke rendering the robber invisible to the
-scattering swarm. It is thus that the Negritos secure honey, their most
-precious article of food. How great, moreover, is the inventive ability
-required by the bow and arrow, undoubtedly fashioned even by primitive
-men! We have seen, of course, that these inventions were not snatched
-from the blue, but that they were influenced by all sorts of empirical
-elements and probably also by magical ideas, as in the case of the
-feathering of the arrow. Nevertheless, the assembling and combining
-of these elements in the production of a weapon best suited to the
-conditions of primitive life is a marvellous achievement, scarcely
-inferior, from an intellectual point of view, to the invention of
-modern firearms. Supplementing this, we have the testimony of observers
-concerning the general ability of these races. A missionary teacher in
-Malacca, whose school included Chinese, Senoi, and Malays, gave first
-rank to the Chinese as regards capacity, and second place to the Senoi,
-while the Malays were graded last, though they, as we know, are held
-to be a relatively talented race. Now, this grading, of course, may
-have been more or less accidental, yet it allows us to conclude that
-the intellectual endowment of primitive man is in itself approximately
-equal to that of civilized man. Primitive man merely exercises his
-ability in a more restricted field; his horizon is essentially narrower
-because of his contentment under these limitations. This, of course,
-does not deny that there may have been a time, and, indeed, doubtless
-was one, when man occupied a lower intellectual plane and approximated
-more nearly to the animal state which preceded that of human beings.
-This earliest and lowest level of human development, however, is not
-accessible to us.
-
-But what, now, may be said concerning the moral characteristics of
-primitive man? It is clear that we must here distinguish sharply
-between those tribes that have hitherto remained essentially
-unaffected by external influences and those that have for some time
-past eked out a meagre existence in their struggle with surrounding
-peoples of a higher culture. The primitive man who still lives
-uninfluenced by surrounding peoples--typical examples are, in general,
-the natural Veddahs of Ceylon and the inland tribes of the Malay
-Peninsula--presents an entirely different picture from that of the
-man who seeks in the face of difficulties to protect himself against
-his environment. In the case of the tribes of Ceylon and Malacca,
-the somewhat civilized mixed peoples constitute a sort of protective
-zone, in the former case against the Singhalese and Tamils, in the
-latter, against the Malays. These mixed peoples are despised, and
-therefore they themselves hesitate to enter into intercourse with the
-primitive tribes. Thus they offer an outer buttress against inpressing
-culture. The result is that these primitive peoples continue to
-live their old life essentially undisturbed. Now, the testimony of
-unprejudiced observers is unanimous in maintaining that primitive man
-is frank and honest, that lying is unknown to him, and that theft
-does not exist. He may, of course, be strongly moved by emotion, so
-that the man who disturbs the Veddah's marriage relation may be sure
-of a poisoned arrow, as may also the strange huntsman who encroaches
-unbidden upon his hunting-grounds. This reprisal is not based upon
-legal enactments--of such there are none; it is custom that allows
-this summary procedure. Many investigators have believed that these
-various characteristics exhibited by unmixed primitive culture indicate
-a high state of morality. In this they agree with Wilhelm Schmidt, for
-whom primitive men are the infant peoples of the world, in that they
-possess the innocence of childhood. It is not only man's moral outlook,
-however, but also his moral character, as this very illustration
-shows, that depends upon the environment in which he lives. Since the
-primitive man who lives undisturbed by external conditions has no
-occasion to conceal anything, his honesty and frankness ought scarcely
-to be counted to his particular credit; so far as theft is concerned,
-how can there be a thief where there is no property? It may, of course,
-happen that an individual takes the weapon of his companion for a short
-time and uses it. This action, however, is all the more permissible
-since each man makes his own bow and arrow. The same is true of
-clothing and articles of adornment. Thus, the rather negative morality
-of primitive man also has its origin in his limited wants, in the
-lack of any incentives to such action as we would call immoral. Such
-a positive situation, however, is, no doubt, afforded by the strict
-monogamy, which probably originated in the prehuman natural state and
-was thenceforth maintained.
-
-Quite different is the moral picture of primitive man wherever he is
-at strife with surrounding peoples. Here, as was noted particularly by
-Emin Pasha and Stuhlmann in the case of the Negritos of the Upper Nile,
-the outstanding characteristics are, in the first place, fear, and then
-deception and malice. But can we wonder at this when we learn that
-the flesh of the Pygmies is especially prized by the anthropophagic
-Monbuttus of that region, and that the pursuit of this human game on
-the part of the latter is absolutely unrestrained, except by the fear
-of the arrows which the Pygmies shoot from behind ambush? Here, of
-course, innocence, frankness, and honesty are not to be expected; under
-these circumstances, theft also comes to be a justifiable act. Wherever
-the Negrito finds something to take, he takes it. The same is true of
-the South African Bushmen, who occupy a similarly precarious position
-with respect to the Bantus and Hottentots. The Bushmen are the most
-notorious thieves of South Africa. Of this we have striking evidence in
-the above-mentioned picture of the Bushman who glorifies and preserves
-to memory the theft of cattle. The Bushman is crafty and treacherous,
-and steals whenever there is opportunity. But what else could be
-expected, when we consider that, by killing off the game with their
-firearms, the Hottentots and Bantus deprive the Bushman of that which
-was once his source of food, and that they shoot the Bushman himself if
-he resists?
-
-To summarize: The intelligence of primitive man is indeed restricted
-to a narrow sphere of activity. Within this sphere, however, his
-intelligence is not noticeably inferior to that of civilized man. His
-morality is dependent upon the environment in which he lives. Where
-he lives his life of freedom, one might almost call his state ideal,
-there being few motives to immoral conduct in our sense of the word.
-On the other hand, whenever primitive man is hunted down and hard
-pressed, he possesses no moral principles whatsoever. These traits are
-worth noting, if only because they show the tremendous influence which
-external life exerts, even under the simplest conditions, upon the
-development of the moral nature.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER II
-
-THE TOTEMIC AGE
-
-
-1. THE GENERAL CHARACTER OF TOTEMISM.
-
-
-The expression 'totemic age' involves a widened application of the
-term 'totem.' This word is taken from the language of the Ojibways
-or, as the English call them, the Chippewa Indians. To these Indians
-of the Algonquin race, the 'totem' signified first of all a group.
-Persons belong to the same totem if they are fellow-members in a group
-which forms part of a tribe or of a clan. The term 'clan,' suggested
-by the clan divisions of the Scottish Highlanders, is the one usually
-employed by English ethnologists in referring to the smaller divisions
-of a tribe. The tribe consists of a number of clans, and each clan may
-include several totems. As a rule, the totem groups bear animal names.
-In North America, for example, there was an eagle totem, a wolf totem,
-a deer totem, etc. In this case the animal names regularly refer to
-particular clans within a tribe; in other places, as, for example, in
-Australia, they designate separate groups within a clan. Moreover, the
-totem animal is also usually regarded as the ancestral animal of the
-group in question. 'Totem,' on the one hand, is a group name, and, on
-the other, a name indicative of ancestry. In the latter connection it
-has also a mythological significance. These various ideas, however,
-interplay in numerous ways. Some of the meanings may recede, so that
-totems have frequently become a mere nomenclature of tribal divisions,
-while at other times the idea of ancestry, or, perhaps also, the cult
-significance, predominates. The idea gained ground until, directly or
-indirectly, it finally permeated all phases of culture. It is in this
-sense that the entire period pervaded by this culture may be called the
-'totemic age.'
-
-Even in its original significance--as a name for a group of members
-of a tribal division or for the division itself--the conception of
-the totem is connected with certain characteristic phenomena of this
-period, distinguishing it particularly from the culture of primitive
-man. I refer to _tribal division_ and _tribal organization_. The horde,
-in which men are united purely by chance or at the occasional call
-of some undertaking, only to scatter again when this is completed,
-has disappeared. Nor is it any longer merely the single family that
-firmly binds individuals to one another; in addition to it we find the
-tribal division, which originates in accordance with a definite law of
-tribal organization and is subject to specific norms of custom. These
-norms, and their fixed place in the beliefs and feelings of the tribal
-members, are connected with the fact that originally, at all events,
-the totem animal was regarded, for the most part, as having not merely
-given its name to a group of tribal members but as having actually been
-its forefather. In so far, animal ancestors apparently preceded human
-ancestors. Bound up with this is the further fact that these animal
-ancestors possessed a cult. Thus, ancestor cult also began with the
-cult of animals, not with that of human ancestors. Aside from specific
-ceremonies and ceremonial festivals, this animal cult originally found
-expression primarily in the relations maintained toward the totem
-animal. It was not merely a particular animal that was to a certain
-extent held sacred, but every representative of the species. The
-totem members were forbidden to eat the flesh of the totem animal, or
-were allowed to do so only under specific conditions. A significant
-counter-phenomenon, not irreconcilable with this, is the fact that on
-certain occasions the eating of the totem flesh constituted a sort of
-ceremony. This likewise implies that the totem animal was held sacred.
-When this conception came into the foreground, the totem idea became
-extended so as to apply, particularly in its cult motives and effects,
-to plants, and sometimes even to stones and other inanimate objects.
-This, however, obviously occurred at a later time.
-
-From early times on, the phenomena of totemism have been accompanied by
-certain _forms of tribal organization_. Every tribe is first divided,
-as a rule, into two halves. Through a further division, a fairly
-large number of clans arise, which, in turn, eventually split up into
-subclans and separate totem groups. Each of these groups originally
-regarded some particular totem animal or other totem object as sacred.
-The most important social aspect of this totemic tribal organization,
-however, consists in the fact that it involved certain norms of custom
-regulating the intercourse of the separate groups with one another.
-Of these norms, those governing marriage relations were of first
-importance. The tribal organization of this period was bound up with an
-important institution, _exogamy_, which originated in the totemic age.
-In the earliest primitive period every tribal member could enter into
-marriage with any woman of the tribe whom he might choose; according to
-the Veddahs, even marriage between brother and sister was originally
-not prohibited. Thus, endogamy prevailed within the primitive horde.
-This, of course, does not mean that there was no marriage except within
-the narrow circle of blood relationship, but merely that marriage was
-permitted between close relatives, more particularly between brothers
-and sisters. The exogamy characteristic of totemic tribal organization
-consists in the fact that no marriages of any kind are allowed except
-between members of different tribal divisions. A member of one
-particular group can enter into marriage only with one of another
-group, not with a person belonging to his own circle. By this means,
-totemic tribal organization gains a powerful influence on custom.
-Through marriage it comes into relation with all phenomena connected
-with marriage, with birth and death and the ideas bound up with them,
-with the initiation ceremonies in which the youths are received into
-the association of men, etc. As a result of the magical significance
-acquired by the totem animal, special associations are formed. These
-become united under the protection of a totem animal and give impetus
-to the exoteric cult associations, which, in their turn, exercise a
-profound influence upon the conditions of life. Though it is probable
-that these associations had their origin in the above-mentioned men's
-clubs, their organizing principle was the totem animal and its cult.
-
-Besides its influence on matters connected with the relations of the
-sexes, the totem animal was the source of several other ideas. After
-the separate tribal group has come to feel itself united in the cult
-of the totem animal, a single individual may acquire a particular
-guardian animal of his own. Out of the tribal totem there thus
-develops the individual totem. Then, again, the different sexes, the
-men and the women of the tribe, acquire their special totem animals.
-These irradiations of the totemic conception serve partly to extend
-it and partly to give it an irregular development. Of the further
-phenomena that gradually come to the foreground during the totemic
-age, one of the most important is the growing influence of dominant
-individual personalities. Such personalities, of course, were not
-unknown even to the primitive horde, on the occasion of important
-undertakings. But tribal organization for the first time introduces a
-permanent leadership on the part of single individuals or of several
-who share the power. Thus, totemism leads to _chieftainship_ as a
-regular institution--one that later, of course, proves to be among the
-foremost factors in the dissolution of the age that gave it birth.
-For chieftainship gives rise to political organization; the latter
-culminates in the State, which, though destroying the original tribal
-organization, is, nevertheless, itself one of the last products of
-totemic tribal institutions.
-
-With the firmer union of tribal members there comes also _tribal
-warfare_. So long as primitive man remains comparatively unaffected
-by other peoples, and particularly by those of a different cultural
-level, he lives, on the whole, in a state of peace. An individual
-may, of course, occasionally raise his weapon against another person,
-but there are no tribal wars. These do not appear until the period
-of totemism, with whose firm social organization they are closely
-connected. The tribe feels itself to be a unit, as does likewise each
-subordinate clan and group. Hence, related tribes may unite in common
-undertakings. More frequently, however, they fall into dissension, and
-warfare must decide their claims to the possession of territory or
-to a disputed hunting-ground. This warfare finds contributory causes
-in tribal migrations. New peoples, some of them perhaps from strange
-tribes, enter into a territory and crowd out its inhabitants. Thus,
-war and migration are closely connected. Strife between tribes and
-peoples--that is, warfare--begins with culture in general, particularly
-with the most primitive social culture, as we may doubtless designate
-totemism in distinction from the still more primitive life of the horde.
-
-This leads to a number of further changes. Tribal ownership of the land
-becomes more firmly established, as does also the custom of allotting a
-particular share to the clan. Personal property, moreover, comes to be
-more and more differentiated from the possessions of the group. Trade,
-which in primitive times was almost entirely restricted to secret
-barter, becomes public, and is finally widened into tribal commerce.
-When this occurs, great changes in external culture are inaugurated.
-Implements, weapons, and articles of dress and of adornment are
-perfected. This stage having been attained, the totemic age advances
-to a utilization of the soil in a way that is unknown to primitive
-man. The land is cultivated by means of agricultural implements. Of
-these, however, the hoe long continues to be the only one; though it
-supplants the digging-stick, its use depends on human power alone. The
-care and breeding of animals is also undertaken; the herdsman's or, as
-it is usually called, the nomadic, life is inaugurated. The breeding
-of useful domestic animals, in particular, is very closely connected
-with totemism. The animal, which at the beginning of the period was
-regarded as sacred, acquires the status of a work animal. It loses its
-dominion over mankind; instead, it becomes a servant, and, as a result,
-its cult significance gradually vanishes. The very moment, however,
-that marks the passing of the sacred animal into the useful animal also
-signalizes the end of the totemic era and the beginning of the age of
-heroes and gods.
-
-These various traits are far from giving us a complete picture of
-the wide ramifications of totemic ideas and customs. Enough has been
-said, however, to indicate how the totemic conception first widens and
-deepens its influence, permeating the external social organization
-no less than the separate phases of society, and then finally leads
-on to its own dissolution. It is precisely this that justifies us in
-calling the entire period the totemic age. Yet the boundaries of this
-period are naturally much less clearly defined, or sharply demarcated
-as to beginning and end, than are those of the preceding primitive
-age. Man is primitive so long as he is essentially limited in his
-immediate means of support to that which nature directly offers him
-or to the labour of his own hands. But even in its beginnings the
-totemic age transcends these conditions. Tribal organization and the
-connected phenomena of war, migration, and the beginnings of open
-trade relations are cultural factors which from the outset represent
-an advance beyond the primitive state. But the lower limit of the age
-cannot be definitely fixed; still less can we determine the point at
-which it terminates. The chieftain of the totemic age is the forerunner
-of the ruler who appears in the succeeding period. Similarly, totem
-animals are even more truly the precursors of the later herd, and of
-agricultural animals. Thus, it is not at all permissible to speak
-merely of _a_ culture, as one may do in the case of the primitive
-age. There are a number of different cultures--indeed, several levels
-of culture, which are in part co-existent but in part follow upon
-one another. Their only similarity is the fact that they all exhibit
-the fundamental characteristics of the totemic age. Consider the
-Veddahs of Ceylon, the Negritos of the Philippines, the inland and
-forest-dwelling tribes of Malacca. When we have described the general
-cultural conditions of one of these tribes, we have given the essential
-features of all. This, however, is far from true in the case of
-totemism, for this includes many forms of culture and various periods
-of development. Even in speaking of levels of culture we may do so
-only with the reservation that each level in its turn includes within
-it a large number of separate forms of culture, of numerous sorts and
-gradations. Moreover, the external culture, reflected in dress and
-habitation, in personal decoration, in implements and weapons, in
-food and its preparation, does not in the least parallel the social
-phenomena represented by tribal organization, marriage relations, and
-forms of rulership. Though the general character of the Polynesian
-peoples permits their inclusion within the totemic age, their tribal
-organization exhibits the characteristics of totemic society only
-imperfectly. In other aspects of their culture, however, they rank far
-higher than the Australians or some of the Melanesian tribes; these
-possess a very complex social organization, but are, nevertheless,
-only slightly superior, on the whole, to primitive peoples. Thus, the
-various phases of totemic culture may develop in relative independence
-of one another, even though they are in constant interaction. This is
-true particularly in the sense that the more developed totemic customs
-and cults occur even on low cultural levels, whereas, on the other
-hand, they more and more disappear with the progress of culture.
-
-
-
-2. THE STAGES OF TOTEMIC CULTURE.
-
-
-We cannot undertake to describe the extraordinarily rich external
-culture attained by those groups of peoples who may, in the main, be
-counted as belonging to the domain of totemism. This is the task of
-ethnology, and is not of decisive importance for folk psychology.
-True, in the case of primitive man, the conditions of external culture
-were described in some detail. This was necessary because of the
-close connection between these conditions and the psychical factors
-fundamental to all further development. The beginning of the totemic
-period marks a great change. New forces now come into play, such as are
-not to be found among the universal motives that have controlled the
-life of man from its very beginning. Of these forces there is _one_ in
-particular that should be mentioned--one that is practically lacking
-among primitive tribes. This consists in the reciprocal influences
-exercised upon one another by peoples who occupy approximately the
-same plane of culture but who nevertheless exhibit certain qualitative
-differences. Migrations are also an important factor in the totemic
-age, as well as is the tribal warfare with which migrations are
-connected.
-
-If we disregard these qualitative differences and attempt to introduce
-a degree of order into the profusion of the totemic world solely on
-the basis of general cultural characteristics, we may distinguish
-_three great cultural stages_, of which the third, again, falls into
-two markedly different divisions. We may ignore certain isolated
-remnants of peoples that are scattered over almost all parts of the
-world and exhibit very unlike stages of civilization, in order to
-give our exclusive attention to those forms of culture that belong to
-compact groups. In this event we shall find that the lowest stage is
-unquestionably exemplified in the Australian region, as well as by
-some of the Melanesian peoples. Above this, we have a second level of
-culture, the Malayo-Polynesian. Wide as is the difference between these
-cultures, they are nevertheless connected by numerous transitional
-steps, to be found particularly in Melanesian and Micronesian regions.
-The third stage of totemic culture itself falls into two essentially
-different divisions, the American, on the one hand, and the African,
-on the other. These divisions, of course, include only the so-called
-natural peoples of these countries, or, more accurately expressed,
-those tribes which, as regards the characteristics of their social and
-particularly of their religious development, still belong to totemic
-culture.
-
-The fact that _Australian_ culture, in spite of its highly complex
-tribal organization, occupies the lowest plane of all, itself indicates
-how great may be the discrepancy between totemism in general and the
-direct influence which it exerts upon tribal organization and external
-culture. This explains why the Australian native was regarded, up to
-very recent times, as the typical primitive man. As a matter of fact,
-his general culture differs but slightly from that of primitive races.
-The Australian also is a gatherer and a hunter, and shows no trace of
-a knowledge of agriculture nor, much less, of cattle-raising. Even his
-faithful domestic animal, the dog, is rarely used for hunting, but
-is regarded solely as the companion of man. Among the Australians,
-therefore, the woman still goes about with digging-stick in hand,
-seeking roots and bulbs for food. Man's life still centres about the
-chase, and, when one hunting-ground becomes impoverished, he seeks
-another. Likewise, there is no systematic care for the future. The
-food is prepared directly in the ashes of the fire or between hot
-stones--for cooking is not yet customary--and fire is produced by
-friction or drilling just as it is by primitive man. His utensils also
-are in essential harmony with his general culture.
-
-But there is _one_ important difference. There has come a change of
-_weapon_. This change points to a great revolution inaugurated at
-the beginning of the totemic age. Primitive man possesses only a
-long-distance weapon; for the most part he uses bow and arrow. With
-this weapon he kills his game; with it the individual slays his enemy
-from ambush. On the other hand, war between tribes or tribal divisions,
-in which large numbers are opposed, may scarcely be said to exist. This
-would not be possible with bow and arrow. Thus, the very fact that
-this is the only weapon indicates that relatively peaceful conditions
-obtained in primitive culture. Quite otherwise with the Australian! His
-weapons are markedly different from those of primitive man. Bow and
-arrow are practically unknown to him; they are found only among the
-tribes of the extreme north, having probably entered from Melanesia.
-The real weapons of the Australian are the wooden missile and the
-javelin. The wooden missile, bent either simply or in the form of a
-boomerang, whose above-mentioned asymmetrical curve is designed to
-cause its return to the thrower, is a long-distance weapon. For the
-most part, however, it is employed only in hunting or in play. The
-same remains true, to some extent, also of the javelin. The latter has
-reached a perfected form, being hurled, not directly from the hand, but
-from a grooved board. The pointed end of the javelin extends out beyond
-this groove; at its other end there is a hollow into which is fitted a
-peg, usually consisting of a kangaroo tooth. When the spear is hurled
-from the board this peg insures the aim of the shot, just as does the
-gun-barrel that of the bullet; the leverage increases the range. There
-are also other weapons which are designed for use at close range--the
-long spear, the club, and, what is most indicative of battle, the
-shield. The latter cannot possibly be a hunting implement, as might
-still be the case with the spear and the club, but is a form of weapon
-specifically intended for battle. The shield of the Australian is long,
-and usually raised toward the centre. It covers the entire body, the
-enemy being attacked with spear or club. Thus, the weapons reflect a
-condition of tribal warfare.
-
-The second great stage of culture, which we may call, though somewhat
-inaccurately, the Malayo-Polynesian, offers a radically different
-picture. To a certain extent, the relation between tribal organization
-and external culture is here the reverse of that which obtains in the
-Australian world. In Australia, we find a primitive culture alongside
-of a highly developed tribal organization; in the Malayo-Polynesian
-region, there is a fairly well developed culture, but a tribal
-organization which is partly in a state of dissolution and partly in
-transition to further political and social institutions, including
-the separation of classes and the rulership of chiefs. Evidently
-these latter conditions are the result of extensive racial fusion,
-which is incomparably greater in the Malayo-Polynesian region than
-in Australia. True, we no longer harbour the delusion that Australia
-is inhabited by a uniform population. It also has been subject
-to great waves of immigration, particularly from New Guinea, from
-whence came the Papuans, one of the races which itself attained to
-the Malayo-Polynesian level of culture. Naturally the Papuan influx
-affected chiefly the northern part of Central Australia. The Tasmanian
-tribe, now extinct, was probably a remnant of the original Australian
-population. But migrations and racial fusions have caused even greater
-changes among those peoples who, culturally, must be classed with the
-Malayo-Polynesians. Here likewise there are many different levels, the
-lowest of which, as found among the Malayo-Polynesian mixed population,
-was yet but slightly higher, in some respects, than Australian culture,
-whereas the culture of the true Malays and Polynesians has already
-assumed a more advanced character. Ethnology is not yet entirely able
-to untangle the complicated problems connected with these racial
-fusions. Much less, of course, can we undertake to enter into these
-controversial points. We here call attention merely to certain main
-stages exhibited by the external culture of these peoples, quite aside
-from considerations of race and of tribal migrations. The Negritos and
-the Papuans of various parts of Melanesia possess a culture bordering
-on the primitive--indeed, they may even be characterized as primitive,
-since they possess characteristics of pretotemic society. Of these
-tribes, the Papuans of New Guinea and of the islands of the Torres
-Straits clearly manifest totemic characteristics, while yet possessing
-special racial traits that are exceptionally pronounced. They differ
-but little from primitive man, however, so far as concerns either
-their method of securing food or their dress, the latter of which is
-exceedingly scanty and is made, for the most part, of plant materials.
-But these peoples, just as do the Australians, have weapons indicative
-of battles and migrations; moreover, they exhibit also other marks of
-a somewhat developed culture. The Papuans are the first to change the
-digging-stick into the hoe, a useful implement in tilling the soil.
-In this first form of the hoe, the point is turned so as to form an
-acute angle with the handle to which it is attached. Hence the soil
-is not tilled in the manner of the later hoe-culture proper; nothing
-more is done than to draw furrows into which the seeds are scattered.
-In many respects, however, this primitive implement represents a great
-advance over the method of simply gathering food as practised when the
-digging-stick alone was known. It is the man who makes the furrows
-with the hoe, since the loosening of the ground requires his greater
-strength; he walks ahead, and the woman follows with the seeds, which
-she scatters into the furrows. For the first time, thus, we discern a
-provision for the future, and also a common tilling of the soil. The
-gathering of the fruits generally devolves upon the woman alone. But
-even among the Papuans this first step in the direction of agriculture
-is found only here and there. The possibility of external influences
-therefore remains.
-
-Far superior to the Papuan race is the Micronesian population,
-which, as regards its racial traits, is intermediate between the
-Melanesians and the Polynesians. Migration and racial fusion here
-become increasingly important cultural factors. In their beginnings,
-these factors already manifest themselves in the wanderings of the
-Papuan and Negrito tribes. One of the most striking discoveries of
-modern ethnology is the finding of distinct traces of Papuan-Negritic
-culture in regions, such as the west coast of Africa, which are very
-remote from the original home of the culture in question. The Papuan
-races likewise wandered far across the Indian Ocean. Obviously there
-were Papuan migrations, probably in repeated trains, from New Guinea
-across the Torres Strait to Northern Australia, where they seem to
-have influenced social institutions and customs as well as external
-culture. Above the level of the Negrito and Papuan peoples, who, in
-their numerous fusions, themselves form several strata, we finally have
-the Malayo-Polynesian population. The Malayo-Polynesians are widely
-spread over the tropical and sub-tropical regions of the earth. Because
-of their significance for the particular stage of totemism now under
-discussion, we have called the entire cultural period by their name.
-The fragments of the Negrito and Papuan races, which are scattered
-here and there over limited sections of the broad territory covered by
-the wanderings of these tribes, apparently represent remnants of the
-original inhabitants. As the result of long isolation, certain groups
-of these peoples have remained on a very primitive plane, as have, for
-example, the above-described inland tribes of Malacca, or the peoples
-of Ceylon and of other islands of the Indian archipelago. Others have
-mingled with the Malays, who have come in from the mainland of India,
-and with them have formed the numerous levels and divisions of the
-Malayo-Polynesian race. This accounts for the fact that this Oceanic
-group of peoples includes a great many forms of culture, which are
-not, however, susceptible of any sharp demarcation. The culture of
-the Negritos and the Papuans, on the one hand, is as primitive as is
-that of the Australians--indeed, isolated fragments of perished races
-were even more primitive than are the Australians; on the other hand,
-however, some of the Malayo-Polynesian peoples are already decidedly in
-advance of any other people whose culture falls within the totemic age.
-
-The chief ethnological problem relating to these groups of peoples
-concerns the origin of the Malays, who, without doubt, have given the
-greatest impetus to the cultural development of these mixed races.
-This problem is as yet unsolved, and is perhaps insolvable. The Malay
-type, however, particularly on its physical side, points to Eastern
-Asia. The resemblance to the Mongolians as regards eyes, skull,
-and colour of skin is unmistakable. At the same time, however, the
-original Malays probably everywhere mixed with the native inhabitants,
-remnants of whom have survived in certain places, particularly in
-the inaccessible forest regions of the Malayan archipelago. Now, the
-Malays were obviously, even in very early times, a migratory people.
-Their wanderings, in fact, were far more extensive than any other
-folk-migrations with which we are familiar in the history of Occidental
-peoples. Starting, as we may suppose, in Central Asia, that great
-cradle of the human race, they spread to the coasts, particularly
-to Indo-China, and then to the large islands of Sunda, Sumatra, and
-Borneo, to Malacca, and, farther, over the entire region of Oceania.
-Here, by mixture with the native population, they gave rise to a new
-race, the Polynesians proper. But the Polynesian portion of the race
-also preserved the migratory impulse. Thus, the Malayans were the
-first to create a perfected form of boat, and to it the Polynesians
-added many new features. Thenceforth the Malay was not restricted to
-dangerous coast voyages, as was the case with the use of such boats as
-those of the Australians or the Papuans of New Guinea. It was a boat
-of increased size, equipped with sails and oars and often artistically
-fitted out, in which the Malay traversed the seas. With the aid of
-these boats--which were, at best, small and inadequate for a voyage
-on the open sea--and at a time when the compass was as yet unheard of
-and only the starry heavens could give approximate guidance to their
-course, the Malays and Polynesians traversed distances extending from
-the Philippines to New Zealand. Of course, these expeditions advanced
-only stage by stage, from island to island. This is shown by the
-legends of the Maoris of New Zealand, who were clearly the first of the
-Polynesians to migrate, and who therefore remained freest from mixture
-with strange races. The same fact is attested by the great changes in
-dialect which the Malayan language underwent even in the course of the
-migrations of the Malays--changes which lead us to infer that to many
-of the island regions settled by these peoples there were repeated
-waves of immigration separated by intervals of centuries.
-
-Connected with this is a further important factor--one which exercised
-a destructive influence upon the original totemism, only a few traces
-of which have survived among these tribes. The boatman, alone on the
-broad seas, with only the starry firmament to direct his course, turns
-his gaze involuntarily to the world of stars which serves as his
-guide. Thus, particularly in Polynesia, there sprang up a celestial
-mythology. This, in turn, again reacted upon the interpretation of
-terrestrial objects. By breaking up tribes and their divisions,
-furthermore, the migrations destroyed the former tribal organization
-and, through the influence gained by occasional bold leaders on such
-expeditions, gave rise to new forms of rulership. An added factor was
-the change of environment, the effect of which was noticeable even at
-the beginning of totemic culture in the influence which the Papuan
-migration exercised upon the northern parts of Australia--the parts
-most accessible to it. The Oceanic Islands are as poor in animal life
-as they are rich in plants. The totemic ideas prevalent in these
-regions, therefore, came more and more to lose their original basis.
-This accounts for the fact that the entire domain is characterized by
-_two_ phenomena which are far in advance of anything analogous that may
-be found on similar cultural levels in other parts of the earth. One
-of these--namely, the development of a celestial mythology--scarcely
-occurs anywhere else in so elaborate a form. Of course, we also find
-many clear traces of the influence of celestial phenomena in the
-mythological conceptions of the Babylonians and Egyptians, of the
-Hindoos, the Greeks, the Germans, etc. But the elements of celestial
-mythology have here been so assimilated by terrestrial legend-material
-and by heroic figures as to be inseparable from them. Thus, the
-celestial elements have in general become secondary features of
-mythological conceptions whose characteristic stamp is derived from the
-natural phenomena of man's immediate environment. Even the celestial
-origin of these elements has been almost entirely lost to the popular
-consciousness which comes to expression in the legend. The case is
-entirely different with the celestial mythology of the Polynesians,
-particularly as it occurs in the legends of the Maoris. In the latter,
-the celestial movements, as directly perceived, furnish a large part
-of the material for the mythical tales. These deal with the ascent of
-ancestors into the heavens or their descent from heaven, and with the
-wanderings and destinies of the original ancestors, who are regarded
-as embodied in the sun, moon, and stars; thus, they differ from the
-mythologies of most cultural peoples, in that they are not simply deity
-legends that suggest celestial phenomena in only occasional details.
-Moreover, no mention of ancestral or totem animal occurs in Polynesian
-mythology. There are only occasional legends, associated with the
-mighty trees of this island-world, that may perhaps be traceable to
-the plant totems of Melanesia. Such being the conditions, it might
-seem that, in any case, we are not justified in including the entire
-Malayo-Polynesian culture within the totemic age. Nevertheless, quite
-apart from the fact that the other phases of external culture are
-all such as indicate the totemic stage of development, the obviously
-primitive character of the celestial legends themselves--for they
-have not as yet developed true hero and deity conceptions--marks this
-culture as one of transition. Its totemic basis has almost disappeared;
-yet the earlier manner of securing food, the modes of dress, the
-decoration, and the belief in spirits and magic have essentially
-remained, even though decoration and weapons, particularly, have
-undergone a far richer development. Thus, the external decoration of
-the body reached its highest perfection in the artistic dot-patterns
-exemplified in the tattooing of the Polynesians. The origin of this
-bodily adornment is here again probably to be traced to magical
-beliefs. The Polynesians also possess carved wooden idols and
-fantastically shaped masks. To the bow and the lance they have added
-the knife and the sword; to the long shield, the small, round shield,
-which serves for defence in the more rapid movements of single combat.
-Many localities also have a peculiar social institution, likewise bound
-up with the development of warfare initiated by migration and strife.
-This institution consists in an exclusive organization comprising
-age-groups and the men's club. The latter, in turn, are themselves
-symptomatic of the disintegration of the original totemic tribal
-divisions. There is, moreover, _one_ further custom, _taboo_, which
-has grown up under totemic influences and has received its richest
-development with manifold transformations and ramifications within
-this very transitional culture of Polynesia. The earliest form of
-taboo, which consists in the prohibition of eating the flesh of the
-totem animal, has, it is true, disappeared. But the idea of taboo has
-been transferred to a great number of other things, to sacred places,
-to objects and names, to the person and property of individuals,
-particularly of chiefs and priests. The tremendous influence of these
-phenomena, whose origin is closely intertwined with totemism, clearly
-shows that this entire culture belongs essentially to the totemic age.
-
-Very different is the _third_ stage of totemic culture. As was remarked
-above, this falls into two essentially distinct divisions of apparently
-very different origin. American culture, on the one hand, represents
-a remarkable offshoot of totemic beliefs; besides this there is the
-African culture, which, because of peculiar conditions, again connected
-with racial fusion, is, in part, far in advance of the totemic age,
-though in some details it clearly represents a unique development of
-it. To one who wishes to gain a coherent picture of totemic culture,
-nothing, indeed, is more surprising than the fact that foremost among
-the peoples who may be regarded as the representatives of this great
-epoch are the Australians. Strange to say, the condition of the
-Australians approximates to that of primitive man. On the other hand,
-the North American Indians, particularly those of the Atlantic Coast
-regions, may be classed among semi-cultural peoples, and yet they seem,
-at first glance, to have made exactly the same _social_ application of
-totemic ideas as have the Australians. The typical tribal organization
-of the Australians and that of the Iroquois tribes who formerly lived
-in the present state of New York, are, in fact, so very similar that
-a superficial view might almost cause them to appear identical. This
-is all the more surprising since we have not the slightest ground
-for supposing any transference of institutions. That which makes
-the similarity so striking is primarily the fact that the single
-groups or clans are designated by animal names, that they entertain
-the conception of an animal ancestor, and that the regular tribal
-organization is based on the principle of dual division. Nevertheless,
-the more advanced culture of the Iroquois has already led to certain
-changed conditions. The animal ancestor recedes to some extent. In
-its stead, there are associated with the animal other conceptions,
-such as are connected with more systematically conducted hunting. The
-American Indian, in contrast to the Australian, no longer regards the
-totem animal as a wonderful and superior being, to be hunted only with
-fear and not to be used for food if this can possibly be avoided. He
-requires for his subsistence all the game available. Hence he does
-not practise the custom of abstaining from the flesh of the totem
-animal. On the other hand, he observes ceremonies of expiation, such
-as are unknown to the Australian. The totem ceremonies of the latter
-are chiefly objective means of magic designed to bring about the
-increase of the totem animals. This idea appears among the Indians
-likewise. Their totem ceremony, however, has also an essentially
-subjective significance and is concerned with the past no less than
-with the future. Its object is to obtain forgiveness for the slaying
-of the animal, whether this has preceded or is to follow the act of
-expiation. Connected with these customs is a further difference, which
-is seemingly insignificant but which is nevertheless characteristic.
-Whereas the Australian, in many regions, thinks of the totem animal
-as his ancestor, the Indian of the prairies speaks of the buffaloes
-as his elder brothers. Thus, among the Indian tribes, man and animal
-still stand on an equal footing. Hence the animal must be conciliated
-if it is to serve as food for man. In many of the myths of the American
-Indians, a man is transformed into an animal or, conversely, an animal
-assumes the human form. Hand in hand with this change in cult ideas and
-customs appear the richer forms of external culture. The weapons are
-perfected; dress becomes more complete; decoration of the body itself,
-though it does not disappear, more and more finds its substitute in
-the rich embellishment of the clothing. Social organization becomes
-stable, and advances beyond the original tribal limits. The tribes
-choose permanent chieftains and, in times of war, enter into group
-alliances with one another. Thus, tribal organization paves the way for
-the formation of States, though fixed rulership has not as yet been
-established. In so far, the democratic organization of North America
-later instituted by the Europeans, shows a trace of similarity to the
-free tribal alliances of the natives who had inhabited the country for
-centuries. For the most part, moreover, the Indians were familiar with
-agriculture, though, of course, in the primitive form of hoe-culture.
-Man himself tilled his field with the hoe, since plough and draught
-animals were wanting. But a firmer organization is revealed in the
-fact that the individual did not go to the field alone, followed by
-the woman who scatters the seed, but that the land was prepared by the
-common labour of the clan. This caused the rise of great vegetation
-festivals, with their accompanying ceremonies. In external details also
-these far surpassed the cult festivals which the Australians hold in
-connection with the adolescence of the youths or for the purpose of
-multiplying the animal or plant totems which serve as human food.
-
-The conditions differ in the southern and, to some extent also,
-in the western portion of the great American continent. Closely
-related as the various tribes are, the old hypothesis that they
-migrated from Asia across Behring Strait is untenable. Moreover, in
-spite of their physical relationship and, in part also, of their
-linguistic similarities, their culture shows important differences.
-In the southern and central parts of America particularly, we find
-widely different cultural levels, ranging from the forest Indians
-of Brazil, who have made scarcely any essential advance beyond the
-primitive culture of the Veddahs or of the natives of Malacca,
-to the tribes of New Mexico and Arizona, who have obviously been
-influenced by the cultural peoples of the New World, and, under this
-influence, have undergone an independent development. All advances
-that they have made, however, clearly depend upon the development of
-agriculture. In addition to numerous elements of celestial mythology
-that have found their way from Mexico, we find vegetation cults and
-agricultural ceremonies. The latter are often closely fused with the
-borrowed mythology, particularly among the semi-cultural peoples of
-the central region of America. These cults--sometimes governed by
-totemic conceptions, while in other cases dominated by celestial
-mythology--underlie the development of art throughout the whole of
-America. Whereas the chief expression of the aesthetic impulse in
-Polynesia is the decoration of the body, particularly by means of
-tattooing, this practice is secondary, in the case of the American
-Indian, to the possession of external means of adornment. It is
-primarily the beautiful plumage of the bird kingdom that furnishes
-the decorations of the head and of the garment. At the ceremonies of
-the Zunis and other New Mexican tribes, the altars are decked with
-the feathers of birds. These festivals exhibit a wealth of colour and
-a complexity of ceremonial performances that have always aroused the
-astonishment of the strangers who have been able to witness them. The
-decoration of garments, of altars, and of festal places is paralleled
-in its development by that of the pictorial decoration of clay vessels.
-Here for the first time we have a developed art of ceramics which
-employs ornamentations, pictures of totemic animals, and combinations
-of the two or transitional forms. Originally, no doubt, these
-ornamentations were intended as means of magic, but they came more and
-more to serve the purposes of decoration. All of these factors exert
-an influence on the numerous cult dances. All over America, from the
-Esquimos in the north far down to the south, a very important part of
-the equipment of the dancers is the mask. This mask reproduces either
-animal features or some fantastic form intermediate between man and
-animal. Thus, this culture is of a peculiar nature. Even externally it
-combines the huntsman's culture with that of the tiller of the soil,
-although in its agriculture it has not advanced beyond the level of
-hoe-culture. As compared with Malayo-Polynesian culture, however,
-it presents an important additional factor. This consists in the
-community of labour, which is obviously connected with the more stable
-tribal organization and with the development of more comprehensive cult
-associations. It is this factor that accounts for those great cult
-festivals that are associated with sowing and harvest and that extend
-far down into the higher civilizations, as numerous rudimentary customs
-still testify.
-
-The changes which we likewise find in mythological conceptions also
-carry us beyond the narrow circle of original totemism. Again there
-appear elements of a nature-mythology, particularly of a celestial
-mythology. These supplant the animal cult, but nevertheless retain
-some connection with the totem animal; the culture is one in which the
-totem animal never entirely loses its earlier significance. Thus, the
-vegetation festivals, especially those of North and Central America,
-exhibit many cult forms in which ideas that belong to a celestial
-mythology combine with the worship of animals and of ancestors. The
-conceptions of ancestors and of gods thus play over into one another,
-and these god-ancestors are believed to have their seat in the clouds
-and in the heavens above. However constantly, therefore, totemic ideas
-may be in evidence within the field of external phenomena, a much
-superior point of view is attained, by the American races, as regards
-the inner life.
-
-Among the _African_ peoples we find the second important form of
-culture belonging to this third stage--a culture which in many respects
-diverges from the one which we have just described. More clearly even
-than in the case of America has the idea been disproven that the
-inhabitants of the interior of Africa are essentially a homogeneous
-race that has developed independently of external influences. Even
-more than other peoples, the Africans show the effects of great and
-far-reaching external influences. Hamitic and Semitic tribes entered
-the country from the north at an early time; even from the distant
-south of Asia, probably from Sumatra and its neighbouring islands,
-great waves of immigration, crossing Madagascar in the distant past,
-swept on towards the west even to the Gold Coast, introducing elements
-of Papuan-Negritic culture into Africa. There were frequent fusions
-between these tribes and the negro peoples proper, as well as with
-the Hamites, the Semites, and also with those who were probably the
-original inhabitants of this region, remnants of whom are still to be
-found in the Bushmen. The negro race, which, relatively speaking, has
-remained the purest, lives in the Soudan region; the Bantus inhabit the
-south of Africa; the north is occupied mostly by Hamitic tribes, whose
-advent into this region was followed by that of a people of related
-origin, the Semites. Corresponding to the racial mixtures that thus
-arose, there are various forms of culture. As regards the Bantus, it
-is highly probable that they are a mixed people, sprung from a union
-of the Soudan negroes with the Hamites. That the Hamites pressed on,
-in very early times, into southern Africa, is proved by the Hottentot
-tribe, whose language exhibits Hamitic characteristics, and the colour
-of whose skin, furthermore, is lighter than that of the negro proper or
-that of the Bantu. The language of the Bantus shows traits resembling
-partly the negro idioms of the Soudan and partly Hamitic-Asiatic
-characteristics. The element of culture, however, which is peculiar to
-the Hamites and which was introduced by them into the northern part
-of the continent, is the raising of cattle and of sheep. There can be
-scarcely any doubt that the African cattle originally came from Asia.
-Probably, however, cattle were brought to Africa on the occasion of
-two different Hamitic migrations; this is indicated by the fact that
-two breeds of cattle are found in Africa. Moreover, it is clear that,
-at the time of their introduction, cattle were not totem animals, but
-had already gained a position intermediate between the totem and the
-breeding animal. The Hottentot, as well as the Bantu, prizes his cattle
-as his dearest possession. Since, however, he slaughters them only
-in times of extreme necessity, he has progressed only to the point
-of obtaining a milk supply. Yet even this represents an important
-advance. Owing to his efforts, the cow no longer merely provides the
-calf with milk, as in the natural state, but, long after the time of
-suckling has passed, places the milk at man's disposal. Everywhere
-in the interior of Africa the cow is still a common milk animal. As
-such, it is a highly prized source of nourishment, but it is not used
-for agricultural purposes. Thus, its position is midway between that
-of the original totem animal of cult and that of the draught animal.
-For the Hottentot, cattle are objects of supreme value. As such, they
-are accorded a certain degree of reverence. They are not utilized as
-beasts of burden nor for slaughter, but only as a source of such means
-of nourishment as do not cost their lives. South Africa, therefore,
-has remained on the level of hoe-culture. The boundary between these
-southern districts in which hoe-culture and the nomadic life prevail
-and the northern regions into which the Hamites and Semites have
-introduced plough-culture is, practically speaking, the desert of
-Sahara. It is only when the animal is used to draw the plough that
-it becomes in all respects a useful animal. Thenceforth it no longer
-merely gives its milk for food, but it performs the work that is
-too hard for man, and, finally, as an animal of slaughter, it takes
-the place of the gradually disappearing wild animal of the chase.
-Coincident with this development, totemic ideas and customs disappear.
-Though these have still left distinct traces in the south, particularly
-among the Bantus, it is, at most, isolated survivals that remain among
-the Hamitic population of the north.
-
-Thus, the animal has come to be a breeding and a work animal throughout
-the whole of Africa, though this is particularly the case wherever
-the cultural influences of the immigrant peoples from the East have
-been operative. The relations of man to man have likewise undergone
-a change in this locality, due, in part, to migrations and tribal
-wars. No region so much as Africa has become the centre of despotic
-forms of government. It is this factor, together with the potent
-influence of ideas of personal property associated with it, that has
-contributed, on the one hand, to the origin of polygyny, and, on the
-other, to the rise of slavery. Long before Africa became the slave
-market of the New World it harboured an intertribal traffic in human
-beings. These changes in culture undermined the older cults, so that,
-with the dissolution of the totemic tribal organization, the original
-totem conceptions disappeared from all parts of this region. All the
-more marked was the progress of animism and fetishism, of which the
-former is closely connected, in its origin, with totem belief, while
-the latter is a sort of degenerate totemism. In certain regions,
-furthermore, as among the Bantus and the Hamitic tribes, another
-outgrowth of the cult of the dead--namely, ancestor worship--has gained
-great prominence alongside of elements of a celestial mythology.
-
-To a far greater extent than in Africa, totemic culture has almost
-entirely disappeared throughout the entire _Asiatic_ world. Only in the
-extreme north among the Tchuktchis, the Yakutes, and Ghilyaks, and in
-the far south among the Dravidian tribes of Hindustan who were pushed
-back by the influx of Hindoos, have remnants of totemic institutions
-survived. In addition to these, only scanty fragments of totemism
-proper may be found in Asia--the home of the great cultural peoples
-of the Old World. Surviving effects of totemic culture, however, are
-everywhere apparent, no less in the sacred animals of the Babylonians,
-Egyptians, Hindoos, Greeks, and the Germanic peoples, than in the
-significance attached by the Romans to the flight of birds and to the
-examination of entrails, and in the Israelitic law which forbids the
-eating of the flesh of certain animals.
-
-In the light of all these facts, the conclusion appears highly probable
-that at some time totemic culture everywhere paved the way for a more
-advanced civilization, and, thus, that it represents a transitional
-stage between the age of primitive man and the era of heroes and gods.
-
-
-
-3. TOTEMIC TRIBAL ORGANIZATION.[1]
-
-
-As has already been stated, the beginning of the totemic age is not
-marked by any essential change in external culture. As regards dress,
-decoration, and the acquisition of food, the conditions that we meet,
-particularly among the natives of Central Australia, differ scarcely at
-all from those of the primitive races of the pretotemic age. It is only
-in the weapons, which are already clearly indicative of tribal warfare,
-that we find an unmistakable external indication of deeper-going
-differences in social culture. At the same time, however, the totemic
-age includes peoples whose general manner of life we are accustomed to
-call semi-cultural. The greatest contrast occurs between the natives of
-Australia and of some of the portions of Melanesia, on the one hand,
-and those of North America, particularly of the eastern part, on the
-other. While the former still live the primitive life of the gatherer
-and the hunter, the latter possess the rudiments of agriculture, as
-well as the associated cult festivals, the beginnings of a celestial
-mythology, and richer forms of legend and poetry. Nevertheless, as
-regards the most universal characteristic of totemic culture, namely,
-the _form of tribal organization_, the two groups of peoples differ but
-slightly, although conditions in Australia have on the whole remained
-more primitive. This is most clearly shown by the fact that, among the
-Australian natives, the totem animal possesses the significance of a
-cult object, whereas in America, and particularly among the Atlantic
-tribes, whose totemic practices have received the most careful study,
-the totem animal has obviously come to be a mere coat of arms. The
-difference might, perhaps, be briefly stated thus: In Australia,
-the totem names signify groups of cult members within a clan; in
-America, they are the designations of clans themselves, but these as
-such possess no cult significance. In both regions, however, tribal
-organization follows the principle of dual division. The tribe first
-divides into two tribal halves (I and II); then each of these separates
-into two clans (A and B, C and D); finally, the latter again break up
-into subclans, so that eventually we may have eight tribal divisions.
-In certain cases, the division has not advanced beyond the dual form;
-the upper limit, on the other hand, seems to be eight distinct groups.
-The schemata representing tribal organization in Australia and in
-America are so similar that it is easy to
-
-                   Kamilaroi
-                   (Central Australians)
-
-        I                                   II
-       / \                                 /  \
-      A   B                               C    D
-    mnop qrst                           mpqs  nort
-
-                   Seneca
-                   (Iroquois)
-
-        I                                   II
-       / \                                 /  \
-     /     \                             /      \
-  ----     ----                       ----      ----
-  |  |     |  |                       |  |      |  |
-  A  B     C  D                       E  F      G  H
-
-understand how most authors have come to regard conditions in the
-two countries as essentially identical. Yet the divergence in the
-nomenclature of the tribal divisions points to significant differences.
-The fact is that the clan names of the Australians are entirely
-different from the totem names. The former have, as a rule, become
-unintelligible to the present-day native, and, since many of them recur
-among distinct tribes who now speak different dialects, they probably
-derive from an older age. Words such as Ipai, Kumbo, Murri, Kubbi,
-etc., may originally, perhaps, have possessed a local significance. At
-any rate, clan names but rarely consist of the names of animals. On
-the other hand, such words as emu, kangaroo, opossum, eagle-hawk, and
-others, are the regular designations of the clans composing the totem
-groups. The case is otherwise among the North American Indians. Here
-the clans all have animal names. Nor can we anywhere find alongside of
-the clans any particular totem groups which might be regarded as cult
-alliances. The schema shown on p. 141 exhibits these relations. The
-tribal halves are designated by I and II, the clans by A, B, C, etc,
-and the independent totem groups existing within the individual clans
-by _m, n, o, p,_ etc.
-
-Owing to the external similarity of the tribal organizations, it has
-generally been thought that the totem groups of the Australians are
-merely clans or subclans, such as are, doubtless, the social groups
-of the American Indians, designated by similar totem names. This
-interpretation, however, has unquestionably led to serious confusion,
-particularly in the description of the tribal organization of the
-Australians. A study of the detailed and very valuable contributions of
-Howitt and of other early investigators of the sociological conditions
-of Australia, inevitably leaves the impression that, particularly as
-regards the interpretation of the various group names, the scholars
-were labouring under misconceptions which caused the relations to
-appear more complex than they really are. Such misconceptions were
-all the more possible because the investigators in question were
-entirely ignorant of the languages of the natives, and were therefore
-practically dependent upon the statements of their interpreters. Under
-these circumstances we may doubtless be allowed a certain degree of
-scepticism as to the acceptance of these reports, especially when they
-also involve an interpretation of phenomena; and we may be permitted an
-attempt to discover whether a different conception of the significance
-of the various group names may not give us a clearer picture of
-the phenomena, and one that is also more adequate when the general
-condition of the inhabitants is taken into account. The conditions
-prevalent among the American Indians are in general much easier to
-understand than are those of the Australians, particularly where the
-old tribal organization has been preserved with relative purity,
-as among the Iroquois. In this case, however, the totem names have
-obviously become pure clan designations without any cult significance.
-Now this has not occurred among the Australians; for them, the totem
-animal has rather the status of a cult object common to the members
-of a group. The fact that the Australians have separate names for the
-clans, as was remarked above, whereas the American Indians have come
-to designate clans by totem names, provides all the more justification
-for attributing essentially different meanings to the two groups
-that bear totem names. In attempting to reach a more satisfactory
-interpretation of totemic tribal organization, therefore, we shall
-consider those totem groups which are obviously in a relatively early
-stage of development--namely, the Australian groups--simply as _cult
-associations_ which have found a place within the tribal divisions or
-clans, but whose original significance is of an absolutely different
-nature. In the above schema, therefore, A, B, C, D, etc., represent
-tribal divisions or clans, _m, n, o, p,_ etc., cult groups. The latter
-are lacking in the part of the diagram which refers to the American
-Indians, since these have no cult associations that are independent
-of the tribal divisions; indeed, the old totem names have lost their
-former cult significance and have become mere clan names. Thus, the
-conception here advanced differs from the usual one in that it gives
-a different significance to the totem names on the two levels of
-development. In the case of the Australians, we regard them as the
-names of _cult groups_; in America, where the totem cult proper has
-receded or has disappeared, we regard them as _mere clan names_.
-But the extension of totem names to the entire clan organization in
-the latter case is not, as it were, indicative of a more developed
-totemism, but rather of _a totemism in the state of decline_. The
-totem animal, though here also at one time an object of cult, is such
-no longer, but has become a mere coat of arms. In support of this
-view of American totem names, we might doubtless also refer to the
-so-called totem poles. Such a pole consists of a number of human
-heads representing the ancestors of the clan, and is crowned by the
-head of the totem animal. This is obviously symbolic of the idea that
-this succession of generations has as its symbol the totem animal that
-surmounts it--that is, the totem pole is an enlarged coat of arms.
-
-Because of the great regularity of its occurrence, the dual form of
-tribal division must be regarded as everywhere due to the same cause.
-Concerning its origin there can scarcely be any doubt. Obviously it has
-no real connection with totemism itself. This explains why the tribal
-divisions originally derived their names, not from the totem, but from
-localities or from other external sources, as the conditions among
-the Australians would seem to indicate. A phenomenon which recurs in
-widely distant regions with such regularity as does dual division, is
-scarcely intelligible except by reference to the general conditions
-attendant upon the spread of peoples. A tribe leading the unsettled
-life of gatherers and hunters must of inner necessity separate as
-its numbers increase or as the food-supply begins to fail. It is but
-natural that the tribe should first separate into two divisions on the
-basis of the hunting-grounds which the members occupy; the same process
-may then repeat itself in the case of each division. The fact that
-when deviations from the principle of dual division are found, they
-are most likely to occur in the subordinate groups, is also in harmony
-with the view that the divisions are due to the natural conditions of
-dispersion. For, in the case of the subordinate groups, one of the
-smaller units might, of course, easily disintegrate or wander to a
-distance and lose its connection with the tribe.
-
-
-[1] The survey presented in this and in the following section aims
-to give only a general outline of the relations between totemism and
-tribal organization, as based particularly on several tribes of Central
-Australia. For a more detailed account of the conditions and of their
-probable interpretation, I would refer to a paper on "Totemism and
-Tribal Organization in Australia," published, in 1914, in _Anthropos_,
-an international journal.
-
-
-
-4. THE ORIGIN OF EXOGAMY.
-
-
-Though the dual organization of the tribe seems to admit of a
-comparatively simple and easy explanation, the totemic exogamy which is
-closely bound up with it offers great difficulties. As we have already
-seen, totemic exogamy is characterized by the fact that a member of one
-specific clan, or of a totem group belonging to the clan, may enter
-into marriage only with a member of another clan or totem group.
-This restriction of the marriage relationship is generally known as
-'exogamy,' a term first introduced by the Scottish ethnologist and
-historian, McLennan. In order to distinguish this custom from later
-regulations of marriage, such, for example, as exist in present law,
-in the prohibition of the union of relatives by blood or by marriage,
-we may call it more specifically 'totemic exogamy.' Totemic exogamy
-clearly represents the earliest form of marriage restriction found
-in custom or law. The phenomena bound up with it may be regarded as
-having arisen either contemporaneously with the first division of the
-tribe or, at any rate, soon thereafter, for some of the Australian
-and Melanesian tribes practise exogamy even though they have not
-advanced beyond a twofold division of the tribe. On the other hand,
-the primitive horde of the pretotemic age remains undivided, and, of
-course, shows no trace of exogamy. True, marriages between parents
-and children seem to have been avoided as early even as in pretotemic
-times. But this could hardly have been due to the existence of firmly
-established norms of custom. Such norms never developed except under
-the influence of totemic tribal organization, and they are closely
-related to its various stages of development.
-
-Taking as the basis of consideration the above-mentioned conditions in
-Australia, where an approximate regularity in the successive stages
-of this development is most clearly in evidence, we may distinguish
-particularly _three_ main forms of exogamy. The first is the simplest.
-If we designate the two divisions of the tribe between which exogamic
-relations obtain, by A and B, and the various subgroups of A by _l,
-m, n, o,_ and of B by _p, q, r, s,_ we have, as this simplest form,
-_unlimited exogamy_. It corresponds to the following schema:--
-
-               I. _Unlimited Exogamy._
-
-           A                             B
-      _l m n o                       p q r s_
-           |______________________________|
-
-This means: A man belonging to Class A may take in marriage a woman
-from any of the subgroups of Class B, and conversely. Marriage is
-restricted to the extent that a man may not take a wife from his own
-class; it is unrestricted, however, in so far as he may select her from
-any of the subgroups of the other class. This form of exogamy does not
-appear to occur except where the divisions of the tribe are not more
-than two in number. The marriage classes, A and B, then represent the
-two divisions of the tribe; the subgroups _l, m, n, o, p,..._ are totem
-groups--that is to say, according to the view maintained above, cult
-groups. For the most part, marriage relationships between the specific
-cult groups meet with no further restrictions. A man of Class A may
-marry a woman belonging to any of the totem groups _p, q, r, s,_ of
-Class B--it is only union with a woman belonging to one of the totem
-groups of Class A that is denied him. Nevertheless, as we shall notice
-later, we even here occasionally find more restricted relations between
-particular totem groups, and it is these exceptions that constitute
-the transitional steps to limited exogamy. Such transitions to the
-succeeding form of exogamy are to be found, for example, among the
-Australian Dieri, some of whose totem groups intermarry, only with some
-one particular group of the other tribal division.
-
-The _second_ form of exogamy occurs when a member of Class A is not
-allowed to take in marriage any woman he may choose from Class B, but
-only one from some specific sub-group of B. For example, a man of group
-_n_ is restricted to a woman of group _r_.
-
-II. _Limited Exogamy with Direct Maternal or Paternal
-Descent._
-
-         A                                B
-   _l m n o                          p q r s_
-          |________________________________|
-
-Both forms of exogamy, the unlimited and the limited, observe the
-same law with respect to the group affiliation of children. If, as
-universally occurs in Australia, A and B are clans having exogamous
-relations, and _l, m, n, o, p,..._ are totem groups within these
-clans, then, if maternal descent prevails, the children remain both
-in the clan and in the totem of the mother; in the case of paternal
-descent, they pass over to the clan and to the totem of the father.
-Of these modes of reckoning descent, the former is dominant, and was
-everywhere, probably, the original custom. One indication of this is
-the connection of paternal descent with other phenomena representing a
-change of conditions due to external influences--the occurrence of the
-same totem groups, for example, in the two clans, A and B, that enjoy
-exogamous relations. The latter phenomenon is not to be found under
-the usual conditions, represented by diagrams I and II. In the case
-of unlimited exogamy (I), no less than in that of limited exogamy, we
-find that if, for example, maternal descent prevails, and, the mother
-belongs to clan B and to totem group _r_, the children likewise belong
-to this group _r_. This condition is much simplified in the case of the
-American Indians. With them, totem group and clan coincide, the totem
-names having become the names of the clans themselves. The particular
-totem groups, _l, m, n, o, p,..._ do not exist. Exogamous relations
-between clans A and B consist merely in the fact that a man of the one
-clan is restricted in marriage to women of the other clan. Wherever
-maternal descent prevails, as it does, for example, among the Iroquois,
-the children are counted to the clan of the mother; in the case of
-paternal descent, they belong to the clan of the father.
-
-In the Australian system, however, which distinguishes clan and totem,
-and therefore, as we may suppose, still exemplifies, on the whole, an
-uninterrupted development, we find also a _third_ form of exogamous
-relationship. This last form of exogamy seems to be the one which is
-most common in Australia, whereas, of course, it has no place in the
-pure clan exogamy of the American Indians. The system indicated in
-diagram II, in which children belong directly to the clan of the mother
-in maternal descent and to that of the father in paternal descent, may
-be designated as limited exogamy with direct maternal or paternal
-descent. There developed from this a third system, in which, while
-the children are counted to the _clan_ of the parent who determines
-descent, they nevertheless become members of a different totem group.
-Thus arises a limited exogamy with _indirect_ maternal or paternal
-descent, as represented in diagram III.
-
-III. _Limited Exogamy, with Indirect Maternal or Paternal
-Descent._
-
-         A                            B
-    _l m n o                      p q r s_
-       |____________________________|~
-
-
-A man of clan A and totem group _l_ may marry only a woman of clan B
-and totem group _p_; the children, however, do not belong to the totem
-_p_, but to another specifically defined totem group, _q_, of clan B.
-
-The way in which these various forms of exogamy affect the marriage
-relations of the children that are born from such unions is fairly
-obvious. Turning first to form I--unlimited exogamy--it is clear that,
-in the case of maternal descent, which here appears to be the rule,
-none of the children of the mother may marry except into the clan of
-the father; in paternal descent, conversely, they may marry only into
-the clan of the mother. Marriage between brothers and sisters, thus, is
-made impossible. Nor may a son marry his mother where maternal descent
-prevails, or a daughter her father in the case of paternal descent. In
-the former case, however, the marriage of father and daughter would be
-permitted, as would that of mother and son in the latter. The marriage
-of a son or daughter with relatives of the mother who belong to the
-same clan is not allowed in the case of maternal descent. The son,
-for example, may not marry a sister of his mother, nor the daughter
-a brother of the mother, etc. Since it is maternal descent that is
-dominant in the case of unlimited exogamy, the most important result
-of the latter is doubtless its prevention of the marriage of brother
-and sister, in addition to that of a son with his mother. The system
-of paternal descent, of course, involves a corresponding change in
-marriage restrictions.
-
-What, now, are the results of form II--limited exogamy with direct
-maternal or paternal descent? It is at once clear that such exogamy
-prohibits all the various marriage connections proscribed by unlimited
-exogamy. Marriage between brothers and sisters is rendered impossible,
-as is also, in the case of maternal descent, that between a son and
-his mother or the relatives in her clan. Marriage between father and
-daughter, however, is permitted. Where paternal descent prevails,
-these latter conditions are reversed. Although forms I and II are
-to this extent in complete agreement, they nevertheless show a very
-important difference with respect to the prohibitions which they place
-on marriage. In unlimited exogamy, a man is at liberty to marry into
-any totem that belongs to the clan with which his own has exogamous
-relations; in limited exogamy, however, he may marry into only _one_ of
-the totems of such a clan. Thus, the circle within which he may select
-a wife is very materially reduced. Limited exogamy with direct maternal
-or paternal descent, accordingly, means a _reapproach to endogamy_.
-The wife must be chosen from an essentially smaller group, narrowed
-down, in the case of maternal descent, to the more immediate relatives
-of the father, or, in paternal descent, to those of the mother. Such
-a condition is not at all a strict form of exogamy, as is maintained
-by some ethnologists, but is, on the contrary, something of a return
-to endogamy. This point is of decisive importance in determining the
-motives of the remarkable institution of exogamy.
-
-What are the conditions, finally, which obtain in form III--limited
-exogamy with _indirect_ maternal or paternal descent? It is at once
-obvious that marriage between brother and sister is here also excluded.
-Furthermore, another union is prohibited which was permitted in form
-II. For son and daughter, in the case of maternal descent, no longer
-belong to the totem group of the mother, _p_, but pass over into
-another group, say _q_. Not only, therefore, is a son prevented from
-marrying his mother because they both belong to the same clan, but a
-father is forbidden to marry his daughter because he may take only a
-woman of group _p_, to which his wife belongs. No less true is this
-of the son, who now likewise belongs to group _q_, and may therefore
-no longer marry a female relative of his father's, since the group
-_q_ into which he has entered has exogamous connections with another
-totem group of the paternal clan, say with _m_. With this change a step
-to a _stricter exogamy_ is again taken; the earlier restrictions on
-marriage remain, and the possibilities of marriage between relations
-are further reduced by changing the totem of the children. Cousins may
-not marry each other. Thus, the limits of exogamy are here narrower
-than those, for example, which obtain in Germany. It is evident that
-such limitations might become a galling constraint, particularly where
-there is a scarcity of women, as is the case, for the most part, in
-Australia. This has led some of the Australian tribes to the remarkable
-expedient of declaring that a man is not to be regarded as the son of
-his father, but, in the case of maternal descent, as the son of his
-paternal grandfather--a step which practically amounts to transferring
-him into the totem of his father and allowing him to enter into
-marriage with his mother's relatives. This circumvention, reminding one
-of the well-known fictions of Roman law, may have its justification in
-the eyes of the Australians in the fact that they draw practically no
-distinction between the various generations of ancestors.
-
-The three forms of exogamy, accordingly, agree in prohibiting the
-marriage of brothers and sisters and, in so far as maternal descent may
-be regarded as the prevailing system, the marriage of a son with his
-mother. Both these prohibitions, doubtless, and especially the latter,
-reflect a feeling which was experienced by mankind at an early age.
-The aversion to the marriage of a son with his mother is greater than
-that to the marriage of brother and sister or even that of father and
-daughter. Consider the tragedy of OEdipus. It might, perhaps, be less
-horrible were it father and daughter instead of son and mother who
-were involved in the incestuous relation. Marriages between brothers
-and sisters have, of course, sometimes occurred. Thus, as has already
-been remarked, the Peruvian Incas ordained by law that a king must
-marry his sister. In the realm of the Ptolemies, likewise, the marriage
-of brother and sister served the purpose of maintaining purity of
-blood, and even to-day such marriages occur in some of the smaller
-despotic negro states. The custom is probably always the result of the
-subjugation of a people by a foreign line of rulers. Indeed, even the
-Greeks permitted marriage between half-brothers and half-sisters.
-
-Though these natural instincts were less potent in early times than
-in later culture, they may not have been entirely inoperative in the
-development from original endogamy to exogamy. Nevertheless, one would
-scarcely attempt to trace to the blind activity of such instincts those
-peculiar forms of exogamy that appear particularly among the Australian
-tribes. On the contrary, we would here also at once be inclined to
-maintain that the reverse is true, thus following a principle that has
-approved itself in so many other cases. The aversion to marriage with
-relatives has left its impress on our present-day legislation, not so
-much, indeed, in the positive form of exogamy, as in the negative form
-which forbids endogamy within certain limits. _This aversion, however,
-is not the source so much as it is the effect--at least in great
-measure--of the exogamous institutions of early culture._ All the more
-important is the question concerning the origin of these institutions.
-This question, in fact, has already received much attention on the
-part of ethnologists, particularly since the beginning of the present
-century, when it has become more and more possible to study the tribal
-organization of the Australians. Here, however, we must distinguish
-between the general theories that have been advanced concerning the
-causes of exogamy as such--theories which date back in part even to
-a fairly early period--and hypotheses concerning the origin of the
-various forms of exogamy.
-
-Exogamy as such has generally been approached from a rationalistic
-point of view. It has been regarded as an institution voluntarily
-created to obviate the marriage of relatives, and is supposed to have
-arisen contemporaneously with another institution of like purpose,
-namely, tribal division. This view is championed, among other scholars,
-by the able American sociologist, Lewes Morgan, in his book "Ancient
-Society" (1870), and even by Frazer in his comprehensive work "Totemism
-and Exogamy" (1910), which includes in its survey all parts of the
-earth. Frazer says explicitly: 'In the distant past, several wise
-old men must have agreed to obviate the evils of endogamy, and with
-this end in view they instituted a system that resulted in exogamous
-marriage.' Thus, the determinant motive is here supposed to have
-been aversion to the marriage of relatives. According to Morgan's
-hypothesis--an extreme example of rationalistic interpretation--the
-aversion was due to a gradually acquired knowledge that the marriage
-of relatives was injurious in its effects upon offspring. The entire
-institution, thus, is regarded as a eugenic provision. We are to
-suppose that the members of these tribes not only invented this whole
-complicated system of tribal division, but that they foresaw its
-results and for this reason instituted exogamous customs. Were people
-who possess no names for numbers greater than four capable of such
-foresight, it would indeed be an unparalleled miracle. Great social
-transformations, of which one of the greatest is unquestionably the
-transition from the primitive horde to totemic tribal organization,
-are never effected by the ordinances of individuals, but develop of
-themselves through a necessity immanent in the cultural conditions.
-Their effects are never foreseen, but are recognized in their full
-import only after they have taken place. Moreover, as regards the
-question of the injurious effects resulting from the marriage of
-relatives, authorities even to-day disagree as to where the danger
-begins and how great it really is. That the Australians should have
-formed definite convictions in prehistoric times with reference to
-these matters, is absolutely inconceivable. At most, they might
-have felt a certain instinctive repugnance. Furthermore, if these
-institutions were established with the explicit purpose of avoiding
-marriage between relatives, the originators, though manifesting
-remarkable sagacity in their invention, made serious mistakes in their
-calculations. For, in the first place, the first two forms of exogamy
-only partially prevent a union which even endogamous custom avoids,
-namely, that between parents and children; in the second place, the
-transition from unlimited to limited exogamy with direct maternal or
-paternal descent does not involve an increased restriction of marriage
-between relations, but, as we have already seen, marks a retrogression,
-in the sense of a reapproach to endogamy.
-
-The above view, therefore, was for the most part abandoned in favour
-of other, apparently more natural, explanations. Of these we would
-mention, as a second theory, the biological hypothesis of Andrew Lang.
-This author assumes that the younger brothers of a joint family were
-driven out by the stronger and older ones in order to ward off any want
-that might arise from the living together of a large number of brothers
-and sisters, and that these younger brothers were thus obliged to marry
-outside the group. Even this, however, is not an adequate theory of
-exogamy, since it does not explain how the custom has come to apply
-also to the older members of the family group. As a final hypothesis,
-we may mention one which may perhaps be described as specifically
-sociological. In its fundamental aspects it was proposed by MacLennan,
-the investigator who also gave us the word 'exogamy.' MacLennan does
-not regard exogamy as having originated in times of peace, nor even as
-representing voluntarily established norms of custom. He derives it
-from war, and in so doing he appeals to the testimony both of history
-and of legend. As is well known, even the Iliad, the greatest epic of
-the past, portrays as an essential part of its theme a marriage by
-capture. The dissension between Achilles and Agamemnon arose from the
-capture of Briseis, for whom the two leaders of the Achaeans quarrelled
-with each other. According to MacLennan, the capture of a woman from a
-strange tribe represents the earliest exogamy. The rape of the Sabines
-is another incident suggesting the same conclusion. True, this is not
-an event of actual history. Nevertheless, legend reflects the customs
-and ideas of the past. Now, in the case under discussion, it is clear
-that marriage by capture involves a foreign and hostile tribe, for this
-is the relation which the Sabines originally sustained to the Romans.
-A significant indication of the connection between marriage by capture
-and war with hostile tribes occurs also in Deuteronomy (ch. xxi.),
-where the law commands the Israelites: 'If in war you see a beautiful
-woman and desire her in marriage, take her with you. Let her for
-several weeks bewail her relatives and her home, and then marry her.
-But if you do not wish to make her your wife, then let her go free;
-you shall not sell her into slavery.' This is a remarkable passage in
-that it forbids the keeping and the selling of female slaves, but, on
-the other hand, permits marriage with a woman of a strange tribe. A
-parallel is found in Judges (ch. xxi.), where it is related that the
-elders of Israel, being prevented by an oath to Jahve from giving their
-own daughters in marriage to the children of Benjamin, advised the
-latter to fall, from ambush, upon a Canaanitic tribe and to steal its
-maidens.
-
-In spite of all these proofs, exogamy and the capture of women from
-strange tribes differ as regards _one_ feature of paramount importance.
-In both legend and history the captured woman is universally of a
-_strange_ tribe, whereas totemic exogamy never occurs except between
-clans of the same tribe. Added to this is a further consideration. The
-above-mentioned passage from Deuteronomy certainly presupposes that the
-Israelite who captures a wife in warfare with a strange tribe already
-possesses a wife from among his own tribe. This is his chief wife, in
-addition to whom he may take the strange woman as a secondary wife.
-We may refer to Hagar, the slave, and to Sarah, Abraham's rightful
-wife, who belonged to his own tribe. The resemblance between exogamy
-and the capture of women in warfare is so far from being conclusive
-that exogamy is permitted only between clans of the same tribal group;
-hence, in cases where there are four or eight subgroups, it is not
-even allowed between members of the two tribal halves. Indeed, the
-essential characteristic of exogamous tribal organization, marriage
-between _specific_ social groups, is entirely lacking in the marriage
-by capture that results from war. Moreover, the woman married under
-exogamous conditions is either the only wife or, if she is the first,
-she is the chief wife; in the case of marriage by capture in war, the
-captured woman is the secondary wife.
-
-
-
-5. MODES OF CONTRACTING MARRIAGE.
-
-
-Though the theory that exogamy originated in the capture of women
-in warfare is clearly untenable, it has without doubt seized upon
-_one_ element of truth. Marriage by capture may also occur within
-one and the same tribe, and under relatively savage conditions this
-happens very frequently. Indeed, it is precisely in the case of the
-Australians, to judge from reports, that such marriage is probably
-as old as the institution of exogamy itself, if not older. Early
-accounts, in particular, give abundant testimony to this effect. That
-later writings give less prominence to the phenomenon does not imply
-its disappearance. The decreased emphasis is due rather to the fact
-that in more recent years the attention of investigators has been
-directed almost exclusively to the newly discovered conditions of
-tribal organization. Even on a more advanced and semi-cultural stage
-we find struggles for the possession of a wife. The struggle, however,
-is regularly carried on, not between members of different groups, much
-less between entirely strange peoples of widely differing language and
-culture, but between members of one and the same tribe. Two or more
-members of a tribe fall into a quarrel for the possession of a woman
-who, though not belonging to their own clan, is nevertheless a member
-of a neighbouring clan of the same tribe. Such conditions are doubtless
-to be traced back to earliest times. The victor wins the woman for
-himself. The custom of marriage by capture has left its traces even
-down to the present, in practices that have for the most part assumed
-a playful character. Originally, however, these practices were without
-doubt of a serious nature, as were all such forms of play that
-originated in earlier customs. Just as ancient exogamous restrictions
-are still operative in the prohibitions which the statutes of all
-cultural peoples place on the marriage of relatives, so the influence
-of marriage by capture is reflected in some of the usages attending the
-consummation of marriage, as well as in various customs, such as the
-purchase of wives and its converse, the dowry, which succeeded marriage
-by capture. Moreover, the fact that marriage by capture occasionally
-occurs even in primitive pretotemic culture and that it is practised
-beyond that circle of tribal organization whose totemic character can
-be positively proved, indicates that it is presumably older than an
-exogamy regulated by strict norms of custom. It is just in Australia,
-that region of the earth where, to a certain extent, the various stages
-of development of exogamy still exist side by side, that we find other
-cultural conditions which make it practically impossible to hold that
-marriage by capture originated in warfare between tribes. Though the
-woman who is here most likely to become an object of dissension between
-brothers or other kinsmen may not belong to the same clan and the
-same totem as the latter, she is nevertheless a member of one of the
-totems belonging to one of the most closely related clans. A woman of
-their own clan is too close to the men of the group to be desired as a
-wife; a woman of a strange tribe, too remote. In the ordinary course
-of events, moreover, there is no opportunity for meeting women of
-other tribes. The slave who is captured in war and carried away as a
-concubine appears only at a far later stage of culture. The original
-struggle for the possession of a woman, therefore, was not carried
-on with members of a strange tribe, as though it were to this that
-the woman belonged. Doubtless also it was only to a slight degree a
-struggle with the captured woman herself--this perhaps represents a
-later transference that already paves the way for the phenomena of mere
-mock-struggles. The real struggle took place between fellow-tribesmen,
-between men of the same clan, both of whom desired the woman. There is
-a possibility, of course, that the kinsmen of the woman might oppose
-her capture. This aspect of the struggle, however, like the opposition
-of the woman herself, was probably unknown prior to the cultural stage,
-when the female members of the clan came to be valued, as they are
-among agricultural and nomadic peoples, because of the services which
-they render to the family. The theory just outlined, moreover, readily
-explains the further development of the conditions that precede the
-consummation of marriage, whereas the theory that marriage by capture
-originated in warfare is in this respect a complete failure. Valuable
-information concerning the later stages in the development of the
-marriage by capture which originates during a state of tribal peace,
-is again furnished by Australian ethnology. Among these peoples, the
-original capture has in many instances passed over into an exchange
-in which the suitor offers his own sister to the brother of the woman
-whom he desires for himself. If this proposal for exchange is accepted
-and he has thereby won the kinsmen of the woman to his side, his
-fellow-contestants may as well give up the struggle. Thus, exogamous
-marriage by capture here gives way to _exogamous marriage by barter_,
-an arrangement in entire harmony with the development of trade in
-general, which always begins with barter. At the same time, the form
-of this barter is the simplest conceivable: a woman is exchanged for a
-woman; the objects of exchange are the same and there is no necessity
-for estimating the values in order to equalize them.
-
-There may be some, however, who do not possess sisters whom they may
-offer in exchange to the men of other clans. What then occurs? In this
-case also it is in Australia that we find the beginnings of a new
-arrangement. In place of offering his sister in exchange, the suitor
-presents a _gift_ to the parents of the bride, at first to the mother.
-Gift takes the place of barter. Since there is no woman who may be
-bartered in exchange, a present is given as her equivalent. Thus we
-have _exogamous marriage by gift_, and, as the custom becomes more
-general and the gift is fixed by agreement, this becomes _exogamous
-marriage by purchase_. The latter, however, probably occurs only at
-a later stage of culture. The man buys the woman from her parents.
-Sometimes, as we know from the Biblical example of Jacob and from
-numerous ethnological parallels, he enters into service in order to
-secure her--he labours for a time in the house of her parents. In an
-age unfamiliar with money, one who has possessions purchases the woman
-with part of his herd or of the produce of his fields. Whoever owns no
-such property, as, for instance, the poor man or the dependent son,
-purchases the woman with his labour.
-
-Marriage by purchase, however, does not represent the terminus of the
-development. On the contrary, it prepares the way for _marriage by
-contract_, an important advance that was already, to a certain extent,
-made by the Greeks, and later particularly by the Romans. Not purchase,
-but a contract between him who concludes the marriage and the parents
-of the woman--this is an arrangement which still finds acceptance with
-us to-day. Now, the marriage contract determines the conditions for
-both bride and groom, and eventually also the marriage portion which
-the man brings to the union, as well as the dowry of the wife. As soon,
-therefore, as property considerations come to be dominant within the
-field of marriage, marriage by contract opens the way for a twofold
-marriage by purchase. The man may either buy the woman, as was done in
-the case of the earlier marriage by purchase, or the woman may buy the
-man with the dowry that she brings. At first, in the days of marriage
-by capture, the struggle with fellow-clansmen or with strangers was
-of decisive importance; at a later time, however, differences in
-property, rank, and occupation came to be the determining factors in
-the case of marriage. Thus, if we regard marriage by gift as a mode of
-marriage by purchase, though, in part, more primitive, and, in part,
-more spontaneous, our summary reveals three main stages: _marriage by
-capture, marriage by purchase_, and _marriage by contract_. Between
-these modes of marriage, of course, there are transitional forms,
-which enable us to regard the course of development as constant. The
-fact, however, that the entire development bears the character of a
-more or less thorough-going exogamy, is due to the _oldest_ of these
-modes of marriage--a mode which, as we may assume, was prevalent at the
-beginning of the totemic age. This is a form of marriage by capture in
-which the woman belonged, not to a strange tribe, but to a neighbouring
-clan of the same tribe, or to one with which there were other lines of
-intercourse. When capture disappeared, the exogamy to which it gave
-rise remained. The old customs connected with the former passed over,
-though more and more in the form of play, into the now peaceful mode of
-marriage by purchase; their survivals continued here and there even in
-the last form of marriage, that by contract.
-
-
-
-6. THE CAUSES OF TOTEMIC EXOGAMY.
-
-
-How does this general development of the modes of marriage account for
-those peculiar laws of exogamy which are universally characteristic of
-totemic culture, representing strict norms of custom that forbid all
-marriage except that between specific clans of a tribe, or even only
-between pairs of totem groups of different clans? Were these marriage
-ordinances, which have evidently arisen in various places independently
-of one another, intentionally invented? Or are they the natural outcome
-of totemic tribal organization, resulting from its inherent conditions,
-just as did the laws of dual tribal division from the natural growth
-and partition of the tribes?
-
-Now, the forms of totemic exogamy unmistakably constitute a
-developmental series. In the simplest arrangement, there are no
-restrictions whatever upon marriage between members of one clan and
-those of another with which marriage relations exist. Such exogamy,
-however, is relatively rare in Australia, the land in which the
-developmental forms of exogamy are chiefly to be found. It seems to
-be limited to tribes that have merely a dual organization, in which
-event the clan coincides with one-half the tribe. Even in such cases we
-find transitions to the next form of exogamy. In this second system,
-exogamy is restricted to particular totems of the two clans of one and
-the same tribal division; and, just as in the first case, the children
-are, as a rule, born directly into the totem group of the mother, or,
-less commonly, into that of the father. Following this exogamy with
-direct maternal or paternal descent and undeniably proceeding out of
-it, we finally have, as the third main form, exogamy with indirect
-maternal or paternal descent. In this form of exogamy, as in the
-preceding ones, the children belong to the totem of the mother or to
-that of the father so far as birth is concerned; as respects their
-exogamous totem relation, however, they pass over into another totem of
-the same clan. Thus, birth-totem and marriage-totem are here distinct,
-and every member of a group belongs to two totems that differ in
-significance. Now, in the case of a marriage by capture in which the
-individuals belong to different clans, the question of the totem does
-not enter. When, therefore, this mode of marriage remains undisturbed
-by further conditions, we have exogamy of the first form. When a suitor
-seeks to win the favour of the clan by means of a gift presented to
-the parents or the kin, marriage by capture passes over directly and
-without further change into the simple marriage by purchase. The two
-more exclusive forms of exogamy, on the other hand, are obviously
-connected with the rise of totemism; they are the result both of
-the clan divisions which follow from tribal partition and of the
-accompanying separation into totem groups. The question, therefore,
-concerning the development of these forms of exogamy, dependent as they
-are both upon clan divisions and upon totem groups, is essentially
-bound up with the question concerning the temporal relation of the two
-important phenomena last mentioned. An unambiguous answer to the latter
-question, however, may be gathered precisely by a study of Australian
-conditions, at least so far as the development in these regions is
-concerned. If we recall our previous schema (p. 141), representing the
-tribal organization of the Kamilaroi, and here, as there, designate
-the totemic groups (emu, kangaroo, opossum, etc.) comprised within the
-clan by _m n o p...,_ it is apparent that the totems must be at least
-as old as the division into the two tribal halves. Unless this were the
-case, we could not explain the fact that, with very minor exceptions,
-precisely the same totems exist in the two tribal divisions. The
-condition might be represented thus:--
-
-     I                 II
-_mnopq              opmsn_
-
-
-It is also evident, however, that the totems could not have influenced
-this first division, otherwise their members would not have separated
-and passed over into the two tribal divisions, as they did in almost
-every case. Remembering that the totemic groups are also cult
-associations, we might express the matter thus: At the time of the
-first tribal division, the cult groups were not yet strong enough to
-offer resistance to the separation of the tribal divisions, or to
-determine the mode of division; therefore, members of totem _m_, for
-example, went here or there according as other external conditions
-determined. Conditions were quite different at the time of the second
-division, when the tribal half I separated into clans A and B, and II
-into C and D, according to the schema:--
-
-     I                 II
-    / \               /  \
-   /   \             /    \
-  A     B           C      D
- mnop  qrst        mpqs   nort
-
-These clans, as we see, separated strictly according to totems. The
-bond of cult association had now become so strong that all members of
-a particular totem regularly affiliated themselves with the same clan,
-though the grouping of the totem divisions within the clans of the two
-tribal halves proceeded along absolutely independent lines, as may be
-concluded from the fact that the totems composing the clans within the
-two tribal divisions are grouped differently. The formation of such
-cult or totem groups, thus, may already have begun in the primitive
-horde. At that time, however, these cult groups were probably loosely
-knit, so that when the horde split up, its members separated, each of
-the two tribal divisions, generally speaking, including individuals
-of all the various tribes. Not so in the case of those divisions of
-the tribe which originated later, after mankind had advanced further
-beyond the condition of the horde. By this time the totem unions must
-have become stronger, so that the members of a cult group no longer
-separated but, together with other similar groups, formed a clan. When
-the growth of the tribe, together with the conditions of food supply
-and the density of population, led to a separation of the tribe,
-certain totem groups invariably joined one division and others, the
-other, but the more firmly organized groups remained intact.
-
-A further phenomenon of great importance for the development of
-exogamous marriage laws must here be mentioned--one that occurs
-throughout the entire realm of totemic culture but is particularly
-prominent among the Australian totem groups. This phenomenon consists
-in _totem friendships_. Certain totem groups regard themselves as in
-particularly close relations with certain other groups. Friendships
-similar to these, in a general way, are to be found even in connection
-with the highest forms of political organization. For modern States
-themselves enter into political alliances or friendships, and these,
-as is well known, are subject to change. Such alliances occur from
-the beginnings of totemism on up to the advanced plane of modern
-international culture. Though these affiliations eventually come
-to be determined primarily by the commercial relations of peoples,
-the determining factors at the outset were faith and cult. In both
-cases, however, the friendships are not of a personal nature, but are
-relations based on common interests. This common interest may consist,
-for example, in the fact that, as has been observed among some of the
-Australian totem alliances, the member of a totem may slay the totem
-animal in the hunt, but may not eat of it, though the member of the
-friendly totem may do so. Thus, the interest in cult becomes also a
-means for the satisfaction of wants, as well as a bond that unites more
-closely the particular totem groups.
-
-These facts help to explain how the unlimited exogamy which first
-arises from marriage by capture comes to pass over into a 'limited
-exogamy,' as it does immediately upon the appearance of conditions
-that regulate the forceful capture and substitute for it the friendly
-exchange of women. These factors, however, always come into play
-whenever the intercourse between tribal members becomes closer, and
-particularly when the struggle with strange tribes keeps in check the
-strife between individuals of the same tribal association. In such
-cases, exchange, or, in later development, purchase, proves the means
-of putting an end to force. Thus, blood revenge, which persists into
-far later times, is displaced by the _wergild_ which the murderer pays
-to the kin of his victim. This transition is precisely the same, in its
-own field, as that which occurs in the institution of marriage, for in
-the former case also the strife involves members of the same tribe. The
-passion, however, which causes the murder and which creates the demand
-for vengeance, sometimes prevented the introduction of peaceful means
-of settlement. In the case of marriage by capture, however, a marriage
-relationship, unrestricted and friendly in character, was doubtless
-first developed between the two clans, particularly wherever tribal
-division and clan were identical. And though marriage by capture was
-for a time still occasionally practised--since all changes of this
-sort are gradual--such marriages, nevertheless, more and more assumed
-a playful character. The actual capture everywhere finally gave way
-to exchange and later to the gift. When, however, the totem groups,
-and with them the cult associations that established a bond between
-clan and clan, gained the ascendancy, the totem groups naturally
-displaced the clan in respect to marriage arrangements; those totems
-who maintained close cult relations with one another, entered also into
-a marriage relationship. Thus, exogamy became limited; the members of
-a totem of clan A married only into the friendly totem of clan B, and
-this usage became an established norm whose violation might result in
-the death of the guilty person, unless he escaped this fate by flight.
-This transition of exogamy from clan to totem group, and from the
-unlimited to the limited form, came only gradually. This is clearly
-shown by the conditions among the Dieri. Certain of their totems have
-already entered upon the stage of limited marriage relationship,
-whereas others have not advanced beyond unlimited exogamy.
-
-But even after the development had reached its final form and limited
-totemic exogamy was completely established, further changes ensued.
-For the basis of such exogamy, we may conjecture, is the fact that
-certain totem groups of associated clans enjoy particularly close
-relations with one another. Even on these primitive levels, however,
-the friendships of such groups are not absolutely permanent any more
-than are the political friendships of modern civilized states, though
-their degree of permanence is probably greater than that of the
-latter. Migrations, changes in hunting-grounds, and other conditions,
-were doubtless operative also in totemic culture, loosening the bonds
-between friendly totems and cementing others in their stead. This led
-to changes in the exogamous relations of totem groups. Instead of
-groups _n_ and _r_ of clans A and B, _n_ and _q_ might then come to have
-exogamous connections (see diagram III on p. 148). But the severance
-of the old connection did not immediately obliterate the tradition of
-the former relationship. The influence of the latter would naturally
-continue to be felt, not in connection with acts of a transitory
-nature, such as wooing and marriage, but in matters _permanent_ in
-character and thus affecting the traditional organization of the
-tribe. Such a permanent relation, however, is _totem affiliation_.
-This explains how it happens that, even after the old totem connection
-gave way to the new, it nevertheless continued to exercise a claim
-on the totem membership of the children born under the new marriage
-conditions; hence also the recognition of the claim on the part of
-custom. In _one_ respect, indeed, such recognition was impossible.
-More firmly established than any form of exogamy was the law that
-children belonged to the mother, or, in the case of paternal descent,
-to the father. This law could not be violated. Hence _exogamous_ and
-_parental_ tribal membership became differentiated. The latter ordained
-that children in every case belong to the totem of the parent who
-determines descent; the tradition of the former decreed that children
-belong, not to the parental totem, but to some other totem of the same
-clan. Such a condition of dual totem membership might, of course,
-arise from a great variety of conditions, just as may the similarly
-overlapping social relations within our own modern culture--such, for
-example, as the military and the so-called civil station of a man.
-The customary designation of the first two forms of limited exogamy
-as exogamy with direct maternal descent, and of the third as exogamy
-with indirect maternal descent, is plainly inappropriate and may easily
-give rise to misunderstandings. For it may suggest that the maternal
-totem disposes of its rights in respect to marriage arrangements to
-another totem group, and that eventually this even occurs in accordance
-with a definite agreement. But this is certainly not the case. For
-maternal descent or, speaking more generally, the fact that children
-belong to the parents, obtains invariably. It would be preferable,
-therefore, simply to distinguish the parental totem connection from the
-traditional exogamous connection, or one system in which the exogamous
-and the parental connections coincide, from a second in which they
-differ.
-
-The conjecture, therefore, that a traditional marriage relation,
-differing from that based on parentage, grew up out of a previous
-totem friendship, is based primarily on the importance which totemic
-_cult_ alliances in general possessed within the totemic tribal
-organization. Other causes, of course, may also have co-operated. Two
-further points must be noticed. In the first place, it is not at all
-likely that the transition from the parental exogamous relation to the
-traditional form occurred at the same time in all the totem groups.
-This is not only highly improbable in itself, but is also absolutely
-irreconcilable with the fact, shown by the example of the Dieri, that
-the earlier transition from unlimited to limited exogamy was gradual.
-Moreover, one must bear in mind that the transition from parental to
-traditional exogamy, represented by diagram III (p. 148), not only
-underwent several repeated transformations, but that, due to the power
-which tradition always exerts, a traditional exogamous union of two
-totems, after it once arose, may have persisted throughout several
-changing cult friendships. An existing marriage relation may not at
-all have corresponded to the cult friendship that immediately preceded
-it; it may have been based on any earlier friendship whatsoever that
-had been favoured by conditions and that had received a firm place in
-tradition. These facts show that the hypothetical 'wise ancestors'
-of the present-day Australians--sages who are said to have invented
-this complicated organization in the immemorial past for the purpose
-of avoiding endogamy--are just as superfluous as they are improbable.
-The phenomena arose in the course of a long period of time, out of
-conditions immanent in the life and in the cult of these tribes. The
-various forms of exogamy appearing in the course of this period were
-not the causes but the effects of the phenomena in question.
-
-
-
-7. THE FORMS OF POLYGAMY.
-
-
-Unless external influences have changed his mode of life, primitive
-man, as we have seen, is both monogamous and endogamous, the latter
-term being used in a relative sense as denoting a condition in which
-marriages are permitted between blood relations as well as between
-non-relations. As a result of the external conditions of life,
-however, particularly the common habitation of the same protective
-cave and the use of adjacent hunting-grounds, unions within a wider
-joint family generally predominate. Following upon the rise of
-exogamy, polygamy also regularly appears. These two practices give to
-the marriage and family relations of totemic society an essentially
-different character from that which they possess under primitive
-conditions. Even in the totemic era, indeed, polygamy is not universal;
-monogamy continues to survive. Monogamy, however, ceases to be a norm
-of custom. It is everywhere set aside, to a greater or less extent, in
-favour of the two forms of polygamy--polygyny and polyandry.
-
-Now it is apparent that precisely the same conditions that underlie the
-development of the various forms of exogamy also generate _polygyny_
-and _polyandry_. From the standpoint of the general human impulses
-determining the relations of the sexes, both sorts of polygamy are
-manifestly connected very closely with the origin of exogamy. Here,
-again, the fact that exogamy originated in marriage by capture from
-within the tribe is of decisive importance. It is precisely this
-friendly form of the capture of brides, as we may learn from the
-example of the Australians and of others, that is never carried out by
-the individual alone, whether the custom be still seriously practised
-or exists only in playful survivals. The companions of the captor aid
-him, and he, in turn, reciprocates in similar undertakings. Thereby the
-companion, according to a view that long continued to be held, gains a
-joint right to the captured woman. Hence the original form of polygamy
-was probably not polygyny--the only form, practically, that later
-occurs--but _polyandry_. At first this polyandry, which originates in
-capture, was probably only temporary in character. Nevertheless it
-inevitably led to a loosening of the marriage bond, the result of which
-might easily be the introduction of polygyny. The man who has gained a
-wife for his permanent possession seeks to indemnify himself, so far as
-possible, for the partial loss which he suffers through his companions.
-Here, then, two motives co-operate to introduce the so-called
-'group-marriage'--the dearth of women, which may also act as a
-secondary motive in the claim of the companions to the captured woman,
-and the impulse for sexual satisfaction, which is, in turn, intensified
-by the lack of women. Similarly, the right to the possession of a
-woman, even though only temporarily, also has two sources. In the first
-place, the helper demands a reward for his assistance. This reward,
-according to the primitive views of barter and exchange, can consist
-only in a partial right to the spoils, which, in this case, means
-the temporary joint possession of the woman. In the second place,
-however, the individual is a member of the clan, and what he gains is
-therefore regarded as belonging also to the others. Thus the right of
-the closest companions may broaden into a right of the clan. Indeed,
-where strict monogamy does not prevent, phenomena similar to marriage
-by capture persist far beyond this period into a later civilization.
-Thus, in France and Scotland, down to the seventeenth century, the
-lord possessed the right of _jus primae noctis_ in the case of all his
-newly married vassals. In place of the clan of an earlier period we
-here find the lord; to him has been transmitted the right of the clan.
-At the time when these phenomena were in their early beginnings, the
-temporary relation might very easily have become permanent. It is thus
-that group-marriage originates--an institution of an enduring character
-which not only survives the early marriage by capture but which is
-reinforced and probably first made permanent by its substitute, namely,
-marriage by purchase. In this instance again, Australian custom
-offers the clearest evidence. In the so-called 'Pirrauru marriage' of
-Australia, a man, M, possesses a chief wife, C^1, called 'Tippamalku.'
-[image missing, see htm--transcribers.] Another man, N, likewise has a
-chief wife, C^2. This wife, C^2, is, however, at the same time a
-secondary wife, S^1, or 'Pirrauru' of M. In like manner the chief
-wife, C^1, may, in turn, be a secondary wife, S^2, of N. This is the
-simplest form of group-marriage. Two men have two wives, of whom
-one is the chief wife of M and the secondary wife of N, and the
-other is the chief wife of N and the secondary wife of M. Into
-such a group yet a third man, O, may occasionally enter with
-a chief wife, C^3, whom he gives to M as a secondary wife,
-S^3, and eventually to N as a secondary wife, S^4, without
-himself participating further in the group. In this way there may well
-be innumerable different relations. But the marriage is a 'Pirrauru
-marriage' whenever a man possesses not only a chief wife but also one
-or more secondary wives who are at the same time the wives of other
-men. 'Pirrauru marriage' is a form of group-marriage, for it involves
-an exchange of women between the men of a group according to the
-reciprocal relation of chief and secondary wives. The very manner in
-which 'Pirrauru marriage' originates, however, indicates that in all
-probability its basis is _monogamy_, and not, as is supposed by many
-ethnologists and sociologists, 'promiscuity,' or the total absence of
-all marriage. In harmony with this interpretation is the fact that in
-numerous regions of Australia, especially in the northern districts,
-it is not group-marriage but monogamy that prevails. There is also,
-of course, a form of group-marriage that differs from 'Pirrauru
-marriage,' and is apparently simpler. In it, the differences between
-chief and secondary wives disappear; several men simply possess
-several wives in common. Because this form of group-marriage is the
-simpler, it is also usually regarded as the earlier. This view,
-however, is not susceptible of proof. The supposition rests simply
-and alone upon the consideration that, if a state of absolutely
-promiscuous sexual intercourse originally prevailed, the transition
-to an undifferentiated group-marriage without distinction of chief
-and secondary wives would be the next stage of development. The
-reverse, however, would obtain were monogamy the original custom.
-For the group-marriage with chief and secondary wives is, of course,
-more similar to monogamy than is undifferentiated group-marriage.
-Moreover, this order of succession is also in greater consonance with
-the general laws underlying social changes of this sort. As a matter of
-fact, it would scarcely be possible to find grounds for a transition
-from undifferentiated group-marriage to the 'Pirrauru system.' If we
-assume that there was a growing inclination for single marriage, it
-would be difficult to understand why the circuitous path of 'Pirrauru
-marriage' should have been chosen. On the other hand, it is very easy
-to see that the distinction between chief and secondary wives might
-gradually disappear. Indeed, this is what has almost universally
-happened wherever pure polygyny prevails. Wherever polygyny may be
-traced back to its beginnings, it always seems to have its origin in
-the combination of a chief wife with several secondary wives. Later,
-however, when the wife comes to be regarded as property, we find a
-formal co-ordination of the wives. Or, there may be a distinction that
-arises from the accidental preference of the husband, as in the case
-of the Sultan's favourite wife, though in modern times such choice
-has again been displaced by a law of more ancient tradition. The
-latter change, however, was the result of the external influence of
-the culture of Western Europe. Such a retrogressive movement, in the
-sense of a reapproach to monogamy, is foreign to the motives immanent
-in the development itself. Furthermore, 'Pirrauru marriage' is very
-easily explicable by reference to the same condition that best explains
-the origin of exogamy, namely, the custom of marriage by capture as
-practised between groups enjoying a tribal or cult relationship. The
-captured wife is the Tippamalku, or chief wife, of the captor; to the
-companions who assist the latter she becomes a Pirrauru, or secondary
-wife. This latter relation is at first only temporary, though it later
-becomes permanent, probably as a result, in part, of a dearth of
-women. By rendering his companions a similar service, the original
-captor in turn gains the chief wives of the former as his secondary
-wives. As frequently happens, the custom which thus arises outlives the
-conditions of its origin. This is all the more likely to happen in this
-case, because the general motives to polyandry and polygyny persist and
-exercise a constant influence.
-
-Proof that this is the forgotten origin of group-marriage may perhaps
-be found in a remarkable feature of the customs of these tribes--one
-that is for the most part regarded as an inexplicable paradox. Marriage
-with the chief wife is not celebrated by ceremonies or festivals, as is
-the union with the secondary wife. Thus, the celebration occurs, not
-in connection with that marriage which is of primary importance even
-to the Australian, but, on the contrary, on the occasion of the union
-which is in itself of less importance. The solution of this riddle can
-lie only in the origin of the two forms of marriage. And, in fact,
-the two result from radically different causes, if it be true that
-capture from a friendly clan is the origin of the Tippamalku marriage
-and that assistance rendered to an allied companion underlies Pirrauru
-marriage. Capture is an act which precludes all ceremony; alliance with
-a companion is a contract, perhaps the very first marriage contract
-that was ever concluded--one that was made, not with the woman or with
-her parents, but with her husband. The consummation of such a contract,
-however, is an act which in early times was always accompanied by
-ceremonial performances. These accompanying phenomena may also, of
-course, persist long after their source has been lost to memory. Thus,
-the difference between the two forms of primitive group-marriage also
-indirectly confirms the supposition that monogamy lies at the basis of
-group-marriage in general.
-
-After a man has won one or more secondary wives in addition to his
-chief wife, in Pirrauru marriage, there will doubtless be a tendency
-for him to seek additional chief wives. This will be particularly apt
-to occur where, on the one hand, marriage by capture gives way to
-marriage by barter and later to marriage by purchase, and where, on
-the other hand, group-marriage is on the wane. Custom may then either
-recur to monogamy, or it may advance to a polygyny which is pure and
-not, as in the case of group-marriage, combined with polyandry. Whether
-the former or the latter will occur, will depend, now that marriage by
-purchase has become predominant, upon might and property. Since these
-are also the factors which insure man's supremacy within the family,
-the older forms of combined polyandry and polygyny almost universally
-(with few exceptions, conditioned by the dearth of women) give way,
-with the advance of culture, to simple polygyny, which is then
-practised alongside of monogamy. This polygyny, in turn, also finally
-recedes in favour of monogamy. The circle of development, accordingly,
-may be represented by the following diagram:--
-
-  Monogamy
-     |
-  Polyandry
-     |
-  Polyandry with Polygyny
-  (Group-marriage)
-     |
-  Polygyny
-     |
-  Monogamy.
-
-As an intermediate stage between monogamy and group-marriage, pure
-polyandry, it should be remarked, is doubtless a very transitory
-phenomenon. Nevertheless, it has a priority over polygyny in so far as
-it first furnishes the motives for the additional practice, and thus
-for the very origin, of the latter.
-
-As a matter of fact, the ethnological distribution of the forms
-of marriage entirely confirms, as a general rule, the truth of
-this diagram. Even in Australia the phenomena of Pirrauru and of
-group-marriage are confined particularly to the southern regions. In
-the northerly regions, where immigration and racial fusion have played
-a greater role, both monogamy and polygyny may be found. The same is
-true of America and of Africa, monogamy decidedly predominating in
-the former and polygyny in the latter. The influence of marriage by
-purchase then constantly becomes stronger, with the result that the
-woman comes to be regarded from the point of view of property. The rich
-man is able to buy more wives than the poor man. In all polygynous
-countries and fields of culture, therefore, even in the present domain
-of Islamism, the poor man, as a rule, lives in monogamy, the rich man
-in polygyny. Only the wealthiest and most aristocratic allow themselves
-a real harem with a considerable number of wives.
-
-Linked with these influences is yet a further change. Its beginnings
-are to be found as early as Australian culture; in America, it has
-progressed somewhat farther; in the other regions of totemism, it has
-finally succeeded in crowding out the original conditions with the
-exception of meagre remnants and survivals of customs. The change to
-which I refer is the _transition from maternal descent_, which, in all
-probability, was originally universal, _to paternal descent_. Maternal
-descent is in direct harmony with the natural feeling that the children
-who are born of the mother, and whose early care rests with her alone,
-should also belong to her. In this sense, mother-right represents the
-earliest of all conceptions of property. At the same time it precludes
-the possibility of that marriage which was avoided even by primitive
-man, and which, on higher cultural levels, is abhorred beyond all the
-other unions forbidden by the exogamous norms of custom--marriage
-between son and mother. The decisive external factor in connection with
-maternal descent, however, is the subordinate position of the family
-as compared with the association of the age-companions of the same
-sex, particularly the men's club. Because of its tribal struggles,
-whose increasing importance is externally reflected in the character
-of the weapon, it is precisely the totemic era that tends to loosen
-the natural family ties of the preceding primitive age, and, as a
-result, to allot the child to the mother. This tendency is clearly
-expressed in certain transitional phenomena that may occasionally
-be observed; they occur more frequently in Melanesia and America,
-however, than in Australia. The child, in these cases, inherits the
-totem of the mother as well as that of the father; or the son, though
-continuing to inherit the totem of the mother, nevertheless passes
-over into the clan of the father. These are intermediate phenomena,
-preparatory to the general transition from maternal to paternal
-descent. At the same time, the fact that membership is inherited in the
-paternal clan, in spite of the custom whereby the mother determines
-the totem, directly suggests that the bond uniting the men may become
-a force which counteracts maternal descent and then readily leads to
-paternal descent. This transition is bound to occur, particularly
-under the co-operation of other favouring conditions. Such conditions,
-as a matter of fact, are present; for social organization gains an
-increasing influence upon the whole of life's relations. There are
-primarily _three_ factors that militate against the original custom
-of maternal descent. The first of these consists in the increasing
-authority of the man over his family, particularly over the son, who
-was generally subject to stricter regulations than was the daughter.
-This authority begins to manifest itself at that time, especially,
-when the man's relations with his family again become closer, and the
-associations which originally embraced, without exception, all the men
-of the clan, are displaced by family groups subject to the control of
-a family elder. Coincident with these changes and with the resulting
-transition to a patriarchal order, there occurs also the gradual
-dissolution of the general system of totemic tribal organization. Now,
-the system of maternal descent was closely bound up with totemic tribal
-organization from the very beginning. With the disappearance of the
-latter, therefore, the former loses its power of resistance against the
-forces making for its destruction. Finally, as a third factor, there
-is the gradually increasing prominence of personal property. Just as
-the wife becomes the property of the man, so also does the child. So
-great was this emphasis of the property conception, combined with the
-notion of authority, that even among the Romans the _pater familias_
-had power extending over the life of his children. Beginnings of such
-conceptions, however, are to be found even in more primitive societies.
-Polynesian custom, for example, permitted the murder of new-born
-children, and free advantage was taken of the permission. Only after
-the child had lived for a short time was infanticide prohibited. The
-decision, however, as to whether or not the child should be allowed to
-live rested primarily with the father.
-
-
-
-8. THE DEVELOPMENTAL FORMS OF TOTEMISM.
-
-
-Our discussions thus far have been restricted to those aspects of
-totemism which are directly related to tribal organization. But however
-important these phases may be, particularly in so far as they affect
-marriage regulations, they are, after all, but an external indication
-of the all-pervading influence of totemism upon life as a whole.
-Moreover, tribal totemism leaves many things unexplained, especially
-the origin of totemic belief. At any rate, the fact that totem groups
-were originally cult associations unmistakably points to inner motives
-of which the influence of totemism upon tribal organization and upon
-exogamy is but the outer expression. To answer the question concerning
-the nature of these motives, however, we must first call to mind
-the various sorts of totemic ideas. An analysis of these ideas may
-proceed in either of _two_ directions. It may concern itself either
-with the _social unit_ that regards itself as in relation to the
-totem or with the nature of the _object_ that constitutes the totem.
-So far as the social unit is concerned, it may be a particular group
-of individuals--whether constituting a cult association independent
-of the real tribal organization, as in Australia, or, as in America,
-representing one of the tribal divisions themselves--that takes the
-name of a particular animal or, less frequently, of a plant for its
-totemic designation. The individual, however, may also possess a
-personal totem. Furthermore, the totemic idea may be associated with
-the birth of an individual, conception being regarded as an act in
-which the totem ancestor passes over into the germ as a magic being.
-This particular form of totemic belief is generally known as conception
-totemism. It supposes either that the totem ancestor co-operates with
-the father in the begetting of the child or that the father has no
-connection with procreation, the child being the direct offspring of
-the mother and the totem ancestor. There is, finally, also a fourth,
-though a relatively uncommon, form of totemism, generally called 'sex
-totemism.' Sex totemism also is social in nature, though in this case
-it is not different cult or tribal associations that possess separate
-totems, but the sexes, the men and women of a tribe or clan. The men
-have a totem, as have also the women, or there may be several totems
-for each sex.
-
-Intercrossing with this classification based on the social factor, on
-whether the totem is associated with the tribe, the individual, or the
-procreation of the individual, there is a second classification. The
-latter concerns itself with the nature of the objects that are regarded
-as totems. These objects are of various sorts. Here again, moreover,
-we must doubtless recognize a development in totemic conceptions. The
-original totem, and the one that is by far the most common, is the
-animal. Numerous peoples possess no totems except animals. In many
-communities, however, plant totems have been adopted, and in certain
-regions they have gradually become predominant. Of the plant totems,
-the most important are the nutritious plants. In addition to these
-two classes of totemic objects, there is, finally, another, though
-an exceedingly rare, sort of totem. The totem that is conceived as
-an animal ancestor may give way to other fanciful ancestral ideas or
-may intercross with them. Various forms of such phenomena are to be
-found, particularly in Australia. In this region, such ancestors,
-which, doubtless, are for the most part regarded as anthropomorphic,
-are sometimes called Mura-mura or also Alcheringa. They are apparently
-imaged as mighty human beings possessed of magic powers. They are
-believed to have introduced totemism and to have instructed the
-forbears of the Australians in magic ceremonies. Mura-mura is the name
-that occurs especially in Southern Australia; the term, Alcheringa,
-prevails in the north, where the age of these mythical ancestors is
-often directly referred to as the Alcheringa age. At times, apparently,
-it is believed that these ancestors merely singled out as totems
-certain already existing animals. In other cases, however, animals, as
-well as mankind, are held to have been created by the magic-working
-beings out of formless matter, doubtless earth. It is commonly believed
-that the creatures that were thus created were at first lifeless, but
-became animals and men when placed in the sun. These various ideas are
-for the most part so intertangled in Australian legend that no coherent
-history of creation is anywhere discoverable. The legends plainly
-embody merely a number of detached fanciful ideas.
-
-Closely connected with these original ancestors there is a third sort
-of totem or of totemic objects which we may briefly designate as
-_inanimate_. The objects are regarded as possessing magical powers and
-as having been bequeathed by the original ancestors, thus representing
-a legacy of the magical Alcheringa age. It is particularly stones and
-pieces of wood that are held to be the abode of these totemic spirits
-and that are represented by legend as having at one time been entrusted
-to the custody of the forefathers. These ideas abound particularly in
-northern Australia, where the magical objects are called churingas
-(or tjurungas). Churingas play an important role in the ceremonies of
-the totem festivals. For the most part, they consist of symmetrically
-shaped stones, somewhat similar to the boomerang; yet other objects
-also may be found, particularly such as are somehow striking in
-form. These churingas are also associated with other totemic ideas,
-particularly with conception totemism. The original ancestor is
-supposed to continue his existence, as it were, in the churinga, so
-that when this comes into contact with the mother he may pass over
-directly into the child.
-
-If, now, we compare with each other the two extreme forms of the first
-class of totemic ideas--namely, _tribal_ and _individual totemism_--we
-at once face the question, Which is the earlier, the original form?
-The ideas connected with the individual totem are certainly much
-more widely disseminated than is tribal totemism. Guardian spirits,
-particularly demoniacal, protective animals, may be found in many
-regions of the earth where there is little or no trace of the tribal
-totem. This is true especially of many regions of North America and
-of southern Africa, and likewise of numerous islands of Oceania. In
-these localities the individual totem is sometimes regarded as a sort
-of double of the individual person. If the totem animal dies, the man
-whose totem it is must also die. Closely related to this conception
-are a vast number of ideas reaching far down into later mythology,
-particularly into Germanic lore--ideas according to which the soul of
-a man lies hidden in some external object, perhaps in a plant or in an
-animal, and, when this vehicle of the soul is destroyed, the man, or
-the god or demon who has assumed human form, must die.
-
-In these various modifications, _individual totemism_ is doubtless
-more widespread than is tribal totemism. Nevertheless, this by no
-means implies that the latter developed from the former. On the
-contrary, both may possibly be equally original, grounded as they
-are in universal human motives that run parallel and independent
-courses. For this very reason, however, it is also possible that
-tribal totemism is the older form, for on somewhat higher cultural
-levels it recedes in favour of the belief in protective spirits
-of individuals. In questions such as this it is helpful to adduce
-parallels from later cults whose mode of origin is more familiar. In
-the present instance, leaving out of account the animal ideas, the
-two forms of totemism are closely analogous to the Roman Catholic
-worship of saints. The saints also are regarded partly as guardians
-of communities and partly as personal protectors. Thus, on the one
-hand, we have the patrons of cities, of monasteries, of vocations,
-and of classes; on the other hand, the individual also may possess a
-particular patron saint. We know of a certainty, however, that the
-patron saints of individuals did not antecede those of the Church
-itself. It was this most inclusive community that first elected the
-saints, whereupon smaller groups and finally individuals, guided by
-motives that were frequently quite external, selected specific patron
-saints from among the number of ecclesiastical saints. When the Church
-set apart a certain day of the year for the particular worship of one
-of its saints, this day was called by the name of the saint; to those
-individuals who were named after him, the day became sacred. Thus, the
-patron saint of the individual appeared later than the more universal
-saint. This order of development, moreover, is in harmony with the
-general nature of custom, language, and myth, according to which the
-individual succeeds the universal; only secondarily may the process
-occasionally be reversed. Usually, however, it is cult associations
-and their common cult objects that are first in origin. Our contention
-is unaffected by the fact that individual cult objects, as well as
-individual totems, may continue to survive after tribal cults and
-tribal totems have disappeared. For the need of a personal protector is
-generally much more permanent than are the social conditions that gave
-it birth. Again we may find verification in the analogous development
-of saint worship. Nowadays the patron saints of the vocations, classes,
-and cities have more and more passed into oblivion. Among the Roman
-Catholic rural population, however, the individual still frequently
-has his patron saint, and, even where the saint has disappeared, the
-celebration of the 'name-day' has been retained. It is particularly
-in the religious realm that personal need gains a greater and greater
-ascendancy over community need. Everything seems to indicate that
-such a change took place even within totemism, especially under the
-influence of the gradual dissolution of the original totemic tribal
-organization--a change analogous to that which occurred in the case
-of saint worship as a result of the decay of mediaeval guilds. These
-arguments, of course, cannot lay claim to more than probability. No one
-can show how the individual totem developed out of the group totem.
-Certain indications, however, suggest that the above was the course of
-development. In Australia, the stronghold of original tribal totemism,
-a youth is frequently given a personal totem, in addition to the tribal
-totem, upon the occasion of his initiation into manhood. The personal
-totem is frequently a matter of secrecy, being known only to the
-medicine-men or to the elders of the tribe. The fact that this is true
-indicates that such a personal totem possesses no public significance
-and, moreover, that it is probably bound up with the idea that the
-real essence of a man is contained in his name, just as it is in his
-picture, so that the mere speaking of the name might bring harm to the
-person. It is doubtless probable, therefore, that, after groups came to
-be formed within the primitive horde, they were at once bound together
-by relations of cult. As Australian conditions indicate, the origin
-of totems in the sense of cult groups is at least as old as tribal
-organization, if not older.
-
-The same cannot be said of the much more remarkable, though also rarer,
-forms of totemism, _conception_ and _sex totemism_. The former of these
-may be regarded as a modification of individual totemism, inasmuch as
-it relates to the procreation of the individual. However, it also forms
-a sort of intermediate stage between tribal and individual totemism.
-A woman receives the totem of the child on a specific occasion, of
-which she usually has knowledge. Among the Aranda, the conception
-may occur at any place whatsoever; among the Warramunga, the woman
-retires to a certain spot, the totem place, where the ancestral spirits
-dwell. Either during the day or, especially, during the night and
-in sleep, the spirit of the ancestor passes over into her. The word
-'spirit,' which is employed by English writers, is not, of course, an
-accurate rendering of the Australian term, and may easily lead to a
-misconception. The German missionary Strehlow has probably done better
-in using the word 'germ.' The germ of the child is thought to pass over
-into the body of the mother independently of any act of the father,
-or, at most, the participation of the latter is held to be merely
-secondary, and not essential.
-
-Adherents of the theory of original promiscuity have interpreted these
-ideas also as a survival of unrestrained sexual conditions, and thus
-as indicative of the fact that paternity was at one time unknown. A
-closer acquaintance with the phenomena, however, shows that this can
-scarcely be the case. Thus, the idea of the Warramunga that it is the
-totem ancestors of a woman's husband and not those of any other man
-that pass over into her, clearly presupposes a state of marriage, as
-does also the further fact that these same tribes reckon descent in
-the line of the father and not in that of the mother. Moreover, the
-passing of the totem ancestor into the woman is generally accompanied
-by magical ceremonies, such as the swinging of bull-roarers, or contact
-with churingas. Or, the totem ancestor may appear to the woman in
-sleep or in a waking vision. On the Banks Islands, strange to say, we
-find conception totemism without any trace of tribal totemism. The
-manner of reception of the totem ancestor also differs; the woman eats
-of the flesh of her husband's totem animal, which, since there is no
-tribal totemism, is in this case a personal, protective totem. Thus,
-conception totemism represents something of an exception in that the
-eating of the totem is not forbidden, as it generally is, but rather
-constitutes a sort of cult act, as it also does in certain other cases.
-In Australia, moreover, conception totemism is to be found only among
-several of the northern tribes, to whom it may at one time have come
-from Melanesia. Because of the primitive nature of the ideas connected
-with conception totemism, particularly when, as among the Aranda, the
-husband is ignored and it is believed that conception is mediated
-only by the totem ancestor, the northern tribes just referred to have
-sometimes been regarded as the most primitive. There are some writers,
-on the other hand, by whom the possibility of such ideas is denied on
-the ground that these very tribes must be familiar with the process
-of procreation in the animal world. But this does not prove the case.
-When, however, we learn that the older men of the tribe themselves no
-longer entertain the belief in magical generation, particularly as the
-exclusive factor, whereas, on the other hand, this is still taught to
-the young men, and especially to the children, we may well call to mind
-our own childish notions about the stork that brings the babies. Why
-might something similar not occur among the Australians, and the belief
-possibly retain credence somewhat beyond the age of childhood?
-
-Sex totemism, similarly to conception totemism, is also of somewhat
-limited distribution, and seems to occur principally in those regions
-where tribal totemism proper is lacking or is at least strongly
-recedent. Among the Kurnai of southern Australia, for example, no
-tribal totemism has been discovered, though sex totemism occurs and
-actually forms the basis of certain marriage ceremonies. Sex totemism
-probably has its origin in the individual totem, especially in the
-appearance of this totem in dreams. If, after such a totem has appeared
-to an individual man or woman, it is then adopted by others of the
-same sex, specific sex totems may well come into being, particularly
-under the influence of the separate associations of men and women.
-It is also significant that in the case of sex totemism nocturnal
-animals predominate. The totem of the women is usually the bat; that
-of the men, the owl. This fact is indicative of a dream origin and of
-a genesis from the individual totem. Diurnal birds may, of course,
-also appear in dreams. Whether or not this occurs depends solely upon
-concomitant circumstances. At the stage of culture, however, when man
-is accustomed to sleep in the open, it is probable that the nocturnal
-birds which circle about him will also appear in his dreams. A further
-characteristic phenomenon of the regions where sex totemism prevails,
-is the manner in which marriage is consummated. In this case also, the
-woman eats of the totem of the man. This causes a struggle between the
-man and the woman, which is really a mere mock-fight ending with an
-offer of reconciliation on the part of the man. With this, the marriage
-is concluded. Such customs likewise point back to individual totemism
-as their original source, and probably also to marriage by capture.
-The fact that tribal totemism everywhere receded with the dominance
-of individual totems, explains why sex and tribal totemism seem to be
-mutually exclusive. Of the two rare forms of totemism, accordingly,
-it is probable that conception totemism was the earlier, and that
-sex totemism belongs to a relatively late stage of development. A
-further indication of the primitive nature of conception totemism is
-to be found in the fact that the Aranda possess a tribal organization
-in which the grouping of totems to form clan divisions follows a
-principle which elsewhere obtains only in the case of the two tribal
-halves. Two clans, A and B, that enjoy exogamous relations with each
-other, do not have different totem groups, as they do among all other
-tribes; their totem groups are largely the same. Among the Aranda,
-therefore, a man of one totem may, under certain circumstances, marry a
-woman of the same totem, provided only she belongs to the other clan.
-True, phenomena are not lacking--such particularly as those of plant
-totems, to be mentioned below, and the ceremonial festivals connected
-with them--which indicate that these northern tribes were affected by
-Papuan immigrations and by race-mixture. But influences of this kind
-are the less apt to lead to the submergence of primitive views and
-customs according as they are instrumental, particularly when they
-are operative at an early age, in maintaining conditions which might
-otherwise possibly disappear as a result of further development.
-
-The _second_ mode of classifying the forms of totemism is based on
-the _objects_ which are used as totems and leads to an essentially
-different analysis of totem beliefs. Each of the forms which the
-classification distinguishes is, of course, also subsumable under one
-of the kinds of totemism already discussed. The earliest totem objects,
-as has already been mentioned, are without doubt _animals_. In America,
-as in Australia, there are practically no totems except animals; in
-other places also it is the animal that plays the principal role in
-totemic mythology. In part, the animal continues to remain predominant
-even after the age of actual totemism has passed. Nevertheless, _plant
-totemism_ has found its way into certain regions. Here also the facts
-are most clearly traceable in Australia, our most important source of
-information regarding the history of the development of totemic ideas.
-In southern Australia, there are no totems except animals; towards the
-north, plant totems gradually begin to make their appearance, until
-finally, among the most northerly peoples of central Australia, such
-totems have the dominance. Plant totems, moreover, are also found
-particularly in Melanesia, from which place they might easily have
-come to Australia across the chain of islands which extends from New
-Guinea to the north coast of the island-continent. That plants play
-an unusually large role in the regions of Oceania, in connection with
-totemism as well as otherwise, is directly due to external conditions.
-These islands are poor in fauna; true, they possess great numbers
-of birds, but these are of little value to the hunter. On the other
-hand, they have a luxuriant flora. From early times on, therefore, it
-is chiefly the plant world that has been the centre of interest and
-that has left its stamp upon myth and custom. Clearly, plant totemism
-had its origin on these islands. From them it was introduced into
-Australia, where it combined with animal totemism. But the regions
-into which plant totemism was introduced underwent a great change
-in their totemic cults. It is probably only with the appearance of
-plant totems that those cult ceremonies arose which are celebrated,
-not, as the festivals of tribal totemism originally were, mainly at
-the adolescence of youths, but primarily for the sake of effecting a
-_multiplication of the totems_. Annually, at stated times, the members
-of allied clans unite in magical ceremonies and cult dances, the
-well-known 'corroborees,' as they are called by those who practise
-them. The primary aim of such cults is to bring about by magical means
-an increase of the totem plants and animals. Doubtless we may regard
-it as highly probable that this ceremony represents a borrowing on the
-part of animal totemism from plant totemism. For the hunter, similarly,
-desires that there be a very great abundance of game animals. Yet it
-is mainly plants that are the object of concern--a concern caused by
-the changes in weather, with its incalculable oscillations between
-life-bringing rain and the withering glare of the sun. These are
-the motives that find expression in the festivals designed for the
-multiplication of the totems, the 'Intichiuma' festivals. The motives
-to these ancient cults still frequently find their counterparts in the
-customs of the cultural peoples of the present. When, in times of a
-long drought, processions pass over the fields and supplicate Heaven
-for rain, as occurs even to-day in some regions, we certainly have an
-analogous phenomenon. The only difference is that the Australian tribes
-invoke their totems instead of Heaven; they call upon the plants which
-are to increase and upon the animals which are to be available for
-hunting, with the aim of thus exercising a magical influence upon them.
-
-In connection with the Australian ceremonies designed to multiply the
-food plants and game animals, we come upon still a _third_ kind of
-totem objects. They differ from those of the two preceding classes
-in that they are not regarded as independent totems, but merely as
-vehicles of the same sort of magical power as is possessed by animal
-and plant totems. In distinction from the latter, we may briefly call
-them _inanimate totems_. They consist of stones and sticks. These are
-utilized as magical objects in the Australian Intichiuma festivals, and
-also, under the above-mentioned name of 'churingas,' in connection with
-conception totemism. They differ from animate totems in that the latter
-are in themselves endowed with magical properties, whereas the former
-are always held to derive these powers from living magicians, from the
-anthropomorphic or zoomorphic ancestors of antiquity. These magicians
-are thought to have transmitted the objects to later generations for
-the use of the latter in the practice of magic. Thus, the churingas
-have a peculiar status, intermediate between magical beings and magical
-implements. They are carefully preserved because--as is indicated by
-their use in connection with conception totemism--they are regarded
-as legacies left by ancestors; moreover, they are also supposed to
-harbour the demoniacal power of these ancestors. One of the factors
-determining the selection of these objects is doubtless generally their
-shape, which is frequently of a striking nature, such as to arouse
-astonishment. Ejected into the object itself, this astonishment becomes
-a wonder-working power. Later, the desire to secure such magical means
-of aid may become a supplementary factor in the selection of these
-objects, and, as widespread phenomena of a similar nature show, may
-eventually suffice of itself to constitute an object the bearer of
-magical powers. Thus, it is these inanimate vehicles of a magic derived
-from totem ancestors, that form the transition from the totem object to
-the so-called _fetish_.
-
-Each of the three kinds of totem objects just described, the plant
-totem, the animal totem, and the totemic fetish, may assert itself in
-connection with the three above-mentioned social forms of totemism.
-Moreover, the three kinds of objects may also, to a certain extent,
-combine with one another. For, though the animal is very commonly
-the only totem, plant totems never occur except in connection with
-animal totems, even though there are certain conditions under which
-they attain the dominance. Finally, the totemic fetish is always
-associated in totemic regions with animal and plant totems, and is also
-closely connected with the idea, even here permeating totemic belief,
-that there were anthropomorphic ancestors who left these fetishes as
-magic-working legacies. Thus, totemism passes over, on the one hand,
-into ancestor-worship, and, on the other, into fetishism, with which
-it combines, particularly in the 'Intichiuma' festivals, to form a
-composite cult. Tribal totemism is the source of the individual totem;
-the latter, probably as a result of animistic ideas that displace
-tribal totemism, gives rise, as an occasional offshoot, to the sex
-totem. This is the conclusion to which we are led by the fact that the
-choice of the sex totem is influenced by the dream. The last important
-product of individual totemism, in combination with tribal totemism, is
-an incipient ancestor worship, which is accompanied by peculiar forms
-of fetishism. In view of its origin, we may perhaps refer to this cult
-as 'totemic fetishism.' The following diagram illustrates this genetic
-relationship:--
-
-                   Tribal and Animal Totemism
-                     /                  \
-Tribal Totemism--Animal                Individual Animal
-     and Plant Totemism                Totemism
-                      \                /   |
-                      Ancestor Worship   Sex Totemism
-                              |
-                      Totemic Fetishism
-
-
-
-9. THE ORIGIN OF TOTEMIC IDEAS.
-
-
-We have attempted to trace the succession of the various forms of
-totemism by reference to the characteristics which these forms reveal.
-Closely connected with this problem is the question concerning the
-origin of totemic ideas. With respect to this question, however,
-widely different hypotheses have been proposed. Of these, those that
-belong to an earlier stage of our ethnological knowledge concerning
-this subject can here receive but brief mention. Herbert Spencer held
-that the entire institution of totemism arose out of the totem names
-of individuals, such, for example, as wolf, deer, eagle, or, among
-the Australians, emu, kangaroo, etc. These animal names, according
-to him, were at first perhaps nicknames, such as are occasionally to
-be found even to-day. Out of the individual totem arose the tribal
-totem. The name then became identical with the thing itself--that is,
-with the animal, which thus became a protective and ancestral animal.
-Though rejecting the idea that the origin of totemism is to be found
-in nicknames and epithets, Andrew Lang retained the belief that the
-name was primary, and that the substitution of the animal or the plant
-for the name occurred only later. This theory is not so strange as
-it might appear. As a matter of fact, it is quite characteristic of
-primitive thought closely to associate a name and its object. Primitive
-man regards his name as a part of himself; this idea is similar to that
-which underlies the terror that he sometimes manifests when a sketch
-is made of him, a terror due to the belief that a part of his soul
-is being carried away in the picture of the artist. And yet there is
-_prima facie_ little probability that a phenomenon so widely prevalent
-and so highly ramified as totemism could have its source in a fact of
-this kind, which is, after all, only incidental. Moreover, in one of
-the chief centres of tribal totemism, in the eastern part of North
-America, as, for example, among the Iroquois, we find very clearly
-defined personal names. These names, however, are never identical
-with those of the totems, nor even, as a rule, with those of animals.
-Sometimes they are borrowed from the names of flowers, although there
-are no plant totems in America; or, they are flattering appellatives
-such as we still find in higher civilizations. Moreover, there is no
-indication that they ever came to be used for the designation of totems.
-
-The view held by Howitt and by Spencer and Gillen, scholars deserving
-of high esteem for their knowledge of Australian totemism, is an
-essentially different one. In their opinions, it is the conditions of
-a hunting life that are reflected in totemic beliefs. They maintain
-that the animals of the chase were the first to become totem animals.
-Wherever plant food gained great importance, plant totems were then
-added. The evidence for this view is based mainly on those Intichiuma
-ceremonies and festivals by means of which the Australians aim to
-secure a multiplication of the totems. In these festivals, for example,
-grass seed is scattered broadcast by members of the grass seed totem,
-or a huge lizard is formed of clay by the members of the lizard totem,
-and pieces of it are strewn about. These are magic ceremonies that,
-in a certain sense, anticipate the sowing and harvest festivals of
-later times. The only difference consists in the fact that these
-primitive magic usages are not directed to the rain-bringing clouds or
-to celestial deities in petition for a blessing upon the crops, but to
-the objects themselves, to the animals and plants. Magic powers are
-ascribed to the latter; by virtue of these powers they are to multiply
-themselves. In regions where sowing and harvest do not as yet exist,
-but where man gains his food solely by gathering that which the earth
-of itself brings forth, such festivals and ceremonies are to a certain
-extent the natural precursors of the later vegetation festivals.
-
-In view of these facts, the hypothesis of the above-mentioned
-investigators seems to have much in its favour. There is a very
-important consideration, however, that obviously speaks against it. It
-is highly probable that these very ceremonies for the multiplication
-of totem objects are not indigenous to Australia, the chief centre of
-totemism, but that they, along with the plant totem, were introduced
-from without. These plant totems, as was remarked above, appear to
-have come from the Melanesian Islands, where the animal totem plays a
-small role, because the fauna is meagre and man is dependent in great
-measure upon plant food. Besides animal and particularly bird totems,
-therefore, which also occur on the Melanesian Islands, we find plant
-totems throughout the whole of northern Australia. These totems, as we
-may suppose, are the result of Papuan immigrations, to which are due
-also other objects of Melanesian culture to be found in the Australian
-continent. In the south, where there are no totems other than animals,
-Intichiuma ceremonies receive small emphasis. In entire harmony with
-our contentions are the conditions in America, where no festivals
-of this sort are connected with the totems themselves; an analogous
-significance is gained only later by the great vegetation festivals,
-and these presuppose agriculture, together with the beginnings of a
-celestial mythology.
-
-In more recent times, therefore, Frazer, whose great work, "Totemism
-and Exogamy," has assembled the richest collection of facts concerning
-totemic culture, has turned to an essentially different theory. He
-traces all forms of totemism back to conception totemism. Since the
-latter, as we have already stated, probably arose out of individual
-totemism, we are again confronted by an individualistic view, much as
-in the hypothesis of the origin from names. Frazer derives conception
-totemism from the dreams which mothers are supposed occasionally to
-have experienced before the birth of a child. The animal appearing in
-such a dream is thought to have become the totem or guardian animal of
-the child. But, though conception totemism, as well as sex totemism,
-may possibly have some connection with such phenomena--the fact that
-the animals here concerned are chiefly nocturnal animals suggests that
-such may be the case--totemism as a whole may, nevertheless, scarcely
-be derived from dreams. Still less can this hypothesis be harmonized
-with the fact that conception totemism is an anomaly. The ideas centred
-about it are but of rare occurrence within the system of totemic
-culture as a whole. Moreover, as Frazer also has assumed, they never
-appear except as an offshoot of individual totemism, and this in turn,
-when viewed in all its phases, cannot be regarded otherwise than as a
-product of tribal totemism. In its reference to the dream, however,
-this hypothesis may perhaps contain an element of truth, inasmuch as
-it involves ideas that obviously play an important role in totemism.
-This is shown particularly by reference to the totem animals that are
-found most commonly in Australia, and that suggest a relation between
-totemism and animistic ideas of the soul.
-
-As a matter of fact, the totem is already itself the embodiment of a
-soul. Either the soul of an ancestor or that of a protective being
-is regarded as incorporated in the animal. The other totems, such
-as plants or totem fetishes (churingas), are obviously derivative
-phenomena, and the same is true of those legendary beings that inhabit
-the churingas as spirits, or that gave them to the ancestors for the
-purposes of magic. Now, originally, the totem was probably always
-an animal. But a survey of the great mass of animistic conceptions
-prevalent in all parts of the world shows that in this case also it
-is particularly the animal that is represented as capable of becoming
-the receptacle of a human soul after death. Animals, of course, are
-not all equally suited to this purpose. Some are more apt than others
-to be regarded as soul animals, particularly such as are characterized
-by rapid movement, flight through the air, or by other features that
-arouse surprise or uncanny dread. Thus, even in the popular belief
-of to-day, it is especially the snake, the lizard, and the mouse, in
-addition to the birds, that are counted among the soul animals. If,
-now, with these facts in mind, we cast a glance over the list of totem
-animals, we are at once struck by the fact that the most common among
-them are soul animals. In Australia, we find the hawk, the crow, and
-the lizard; in America, the eagle, the falcon, and the snake.
-
-In respect to these ideas, the totemic age marks an important
-turning-point in the history of soul conceptions. Primitive man regards
-that which we have succinctly called the 'corporeal soul' (p. 82) as
-the principal, and perhaps originally as the only, soul. At death,
-the soul is believed to remain in the body, wherefore primitive man
-flees in terror from the corpse. Even at this stage, of course, we
-occasionally find traces of a different idea. The soul may also be
-regarded as active outside of the body, in the form of a demoniacal
-being. But as yet these ideas are generally fluctuating and undefined.
-There then comes a change, dependent, just as are the other cultural
-transformations, on the strife and warfare arising as a result of
-tribal migrations. This change, as we may suppose, is due to the
-fact that tribal struggles bring with them the impressive spectacle
-of sudden death. One who is killed in battle exhibits the contrast
-between life and death so directly that, even though the belief in
-the continued existence of the soul within the body still survives,
-it nevertheless permits the co-presence of other more advanced
-conceptions. Thus _two_ sets of ideas come to be developed. On the
-one hand, the soul is believed to depart with the blood. In place of
-the entire body, therefore, the blood comes to be the chief vehicle
-of the soul. Blood magic, which by itself constitutes an extensive
-chapter in the history of magic beliefs, and which is prevalent in all
-periods of culture, has its source in this conception. Further factors
-then enter into the development. In addition to the blood, the inner
-parts of the body, which are exposed in cases of violent death, become
-vehicles of the soul. The idea of the sudden departure of the soul
-is then transferred from the one who is killed to the dying person in
-general. With the exhalation of his last breath, his soul is thought
-to depart from him. The soul is therefore conceived as a moving form,
-particularly as an animal, a bird, a rapidly gliding snake, or a lizard.
-
-In dealing, later, with the soul conceptions of the totemic age, we
-will consider these several motives in their independent influence
-as well as in their reciprocal action upon one another. Here we can
-touch upon them only in so far as they harbour the sources of totemism
-itself. But in this connection two facts are of decisive importance.
-In the first place, the original totem, and the one which continues
-to remain most common, is the animal; and, secondly, the earliest
-totem animals are identical with soul animals. But in addition to soul
-animals, other animals also may later readily come to be regarded
-as totems, particularly such as continually claim man's attention,
-as, for example, game animals. Thus, the soul motives are brought
-into interplay with other influences, springing in part from the
-emotions associated with the search for daily food, though primarily
-with success or failure in the chase. As a result, the soul motives
-obviously become less prominent, and the totem animal, freed from this
-association, acquires its own peculiar significance, which fluctuates
-between the ancestral idea and that of a protective demon. The concern
-for food, which was at first operative only as a secondary motive, was
-heightened in certain localities where the natural environment was
-poor, and, with the influx of immigrant tribes, it assumed ever greater
-prominence. In this way, plant totems came to be added to animal
-totems; finally, as a result of certain relations of these two totems
-to inanimate objects, there arose a fetishistic offshoot of totemism.
-This again brought totemism into close connection with ancestor ideas,
-and contributed also towards the transition from animal to human
-ancestors.
-
-Thus, then, totemic ideas arise as a result of the diremption of
-primitive soul ideas into the _corporeal soul_ and the _breath-_ and
-_shadow-soul_. That the two latter are associated, is proven also by
-the history of totemism. Folk belief, even down to the present, holds
-that the soul of the dying person issues in his last breath and that it
-possesses the form of an animal. The soul of one who has recently died,
-however, appears primarily in dreams and as a phantom form. Now, the
-totem animal has its genesis in the transformation of the breath-soul
-into an animal. The shadow-soul of the dream, moreover, exercises
-an influence on individual totemism, as it does also on conception
-totemism and on sex totemism.
-
-Thus, totemism is directly connected with the belief in souls--that
-is to say, with _animism_. It represents that branch of animism which
-exercised a long-continuing influence on the tribal organization as
-well as on the beliefs of peoples. But before turning to these final
-aspects of totemism and their further developments, it is necessary to
-consider another group of ideas which, in their beginnings, occupied
-an important place within the circle of totemic beliefs. The ideas to
-which I refer are those connected with the custom of _taboo_.
-
-
-
-10. THE LAWS OF TABOO.
-
-
-It is a significant fact that 'totem' and 'taboo' are concepts for
-which our cultural languages possess no adequate words. Both these
-terms are taken from the languages of so-called natural peoples,
-'totem' from an idiom of the North American Indians, and 'taboo'
-from the Polynesian languages. The word 'totem' is as yet relatively
-uncommon in literature, with the exception of books on ethnology and
-folk psychology; the word 'taboo,' on the other hand, is much in use.
-A thing is called taboo when it may not be touched, or when it must
-be avoided for some reason, whether because of its peculiar sanctity
-or contrariwise because its harmful influence renders it 'impure,'
-defiling every one who comes into contact with it. Thus, two opposing
-ideas are combined in the conception of taboo: the idea of the sacred
-as something to be avoided because of its sanctity, and that of the
-impure or loathsome, which must be avoided because of its repulsive or
-harmful nature. These ideas combine in the conception of _fear_. There
-is, indeed, one sort of fear which we call _awe_, and another termed
-_aversion_. Now, the history of taboo ideas leaves no doubt that in
-this case awe and aversion sprang from the same source. That which
-aroused aversion at a later age was in the totemic period chiefly an
-object of awe, or, at any rate, of fear--that is, of a feeling in which
-aversion and awe were still undifferentiated. That which is designated
-by the simplest word [_Scheu_] is also earliest in origin; awe
-[_Ehrfurcht_] and aversion [_Abscheu_] developed from fear [_Scheu_].
-
-If, now, we associate the term 'taboo' in a general way with an object
-that arouses fear, the earliest object of taboo seems to have been the
-totem animal. One of the most elemental of totemic ideas and customs
-consists in the fact that the members of a totem group are prohibited
-from eating the flesh of the totem, and sometimes also from hunting the
-totem animal. This prohibition, of course, can have originated only
-in a general feeling of fear, as a result of which the members of a
-totemic group are restrained from eating or killing the totem animal.
-In many regions, where the culture, although already totemic, is,
-nevertheless, primitive, the totem animal appears to be the only object
-of taboo. This fact alone makes it probable that totemism lies at the
-basis of taboo ideas. The protective animal of the individual long
-survived the tribal totem and sometimes spread to far wider regions.
-Similarly, the taboo, though closely related to tribal organization
-in origin, underwent further developments which continued after the
-totemic ideas from which it sprang had either entirely disappeared or
-had, at any rate, vanished with the exception of meagre traces. This
-accounts for the fact that it is not in Australia, the original home
-of the totem, that we find the chief centre of taboo customs, nor in
-Melanesian territory, where the totem is still fairly common, nor in
-North America, but in Polynesia.
-
-It is in Polynesia, therefore, that we can most clearly trace the
-spread of taboo ideas beyond their original starting-point. The taboo
-of animals is here only incidental; man himself is the primary object
-of taboo--not every individual, but the privileged ones, the superiors,
-the priest, the chieftain. Closely related to the fact that man is
-thus held taboo, is the development of chieftainship and the gradual
-growth of class differences. The higher class becomes taboo to the
-lower class. This fear is then carried over from the man himself to
-his possessions. The property of the nobleman is taboo to every other
-person. The taboo has not merely the force of a police law, similar
-to that whereby, in other localities, men of superior rank prohibit
-entrance to their parks; it is a religious law, whose transgression
-is eventually punished by death. It is particularly the chief and his
-property that are objects of taboo. Where the taboo regulations were
-strict, no one was allowed to venture close to the chief or even to
-speak his name. Thus, the taboo might become an intolerable constraint.
-In Hawaii, the chief was not allowed to raise his own food to his
-mouth, for he was taboo and his contact with the food rendered this
-also taboo. Hence the Hawaian chief was obliged to have a servant feed
-him. The objects which he touched became taboo to all individuals. In
-short, he became the very opposite of a despotic ruler, namely, the
-slave of a despotic custom.
-
-From the individual person, the taboo was further extended to
-localities, houses, and lands. A member of the aristocratic class
-might render taboo not only his movable property but also his land.
-The temple, in particular, was taboo, and, together with the priests,
-it retained this character longer than any other object. The taboo
-concerned with the eating of certain animals, however, also remained
-in force for a long time. Though these animals were at first avoided
-as sacred, the taboo of the sacred, in this case, later developed into
-that of the impure. Thus, this conception recurs, in a sense, to its
-beginning. For the fear that is associated with the animals which the
-totem group regards as sacred, is here combined with the fear that the
-eating of the flesh is harmful. Sickness or even death is believed to
-follow a transgression of such a taboo regulation. Even in its original
-home, however, the taboo assumes wider forms. It subjects to its
-influence the demon-ideas that reach back even to pretotemic times. The
-corpse particularly, and the sick person also, are held taboo because
-of the demoniacal magic proceeding from them. Likewise the priest and
-the chief are taboo, because of their sacredness. Thus, the taboo gains
-a circle of influence that widens according as totemic ideas proper
-recede. The taboo which the upper classes placed upon their property
-had come to be such a preponderant factor in Polynesian custom that
-the first investigators of these regions believed the taboo in general
-to be chiefly an institution whereby the rich aimed to protect their
-property by taking advantage of the superstition of the masses.
-
-One of the most remarkable extensions of the scope of taboo is the
-_taboo which rests on relations by marriage._ The history of exogamy,
-whose earliest stages are represented by the totemic marriage laws of
-the Australians, clearly teaches that the aversion to marriage between
-blood relations was not the cause but at most, to a great extent, the
-effect of exogamous customs that everywhere reach back into a distant
-past. But there is a second class of marriage prohibitions, and this
-likewise has found a place even in present-day legislation--the
-prohibition of unions between relations by marriage. Such prohibitions
-are from the very beginning outside the pale of exogamous laws.
-Indeed, it is clear that all unions of this sort--such, for example,
-as are forbidden by our present laws--were permitted by the totem and
-clan exogamy of the Australians and that of the American Indians. In
-the case of maternal descent, the group from which a man must select
-his wife included his mother-in-law as well as his wife. Similarly,
-in the case of paternal descent, the husband and father-in-law were
-totem associates. There is another set of customs, however, which
-is generally connected with even the earliest forms of exogamy, and
-which fills out in a very remarkable way the gap that appears in the
-original totemic exogamy when this is compared with present-day
-legislation. These customs are no other than the laws of taboo. One of
-the earliest and most common of these regulations is the _taboo of the
-mother-in-law_. Corresponding to it, not so common and yet obviously
-a parallel phenomenon occasionally connected with it, is the _taboo
-of the father-in-law_. The relative distribution of the two taboos is
-analogous to that of maternal and paternal descent in the primitive
-condition of society, for it is maternal descent that is dominant.
-This is not at all meant to imply that there is any casual[1] relation
-between these phenomena. Rather is it true, probably, that they are
-based upon similar motives, and that these motives, just as in the
-case of marriage between relations, are more potent in the case of
-the mother than in that of the father. In general, however, the taboo
-of parents-in-law signifies that the husband must so far as possible
-avoid meeting his mother-in-law, and the wife, her father-in-law.
-Now, it is evident that in so far as this avoidance excludes the
-possibility of marriage, the custom is, in a way, supplementary to
-exogamy. Wherever maternal descent prevails, no one may marry his
-mother; and, where taboo of the mother-in-law exists, no one may marry
-his mother-in-law. The same holds of father and daughter, and of father
-and daughter-in-law, in the case of paternal descent. This analogy
-may possibly indicate the correct clue to the interpretation of the
-phenomena. It would certainly be erroneous to regard the taboo of the
-mother-in-law as a regulation intentionally formulated to prevent
-unions between direct relations by marriage. Yet there is evidence
-here of a natural association by virtue of which the fear of marriage
-with one's own mother, which, though not caused by the exogamous
-prohibition, is nevertheless greatly strengthened by it, is directly
-carried over to the mother-in-law. Between a woman and the husband of
-her daughter there thus arises a state of taboo such as is impossible
-between mother and son because, from the time of his birth on, they are
-in close and constant relation with each other. In consequence of the
-above-mentioned association, mother and mother-in-law, or father and
-father-in-law, form a unity analogous to that which obtains between man
-and wife. What is true of the husband, is also true in the case of the
-wife; similarly, what holds for the mother of the husband holds no less
-for the mother of the wife.
-
-Striking evidence of the effect of an association of ideas that
-is perfectly analogous to the one underlying the taboo of the
-mother-in-law, is offered by a custom which is doubtless generally
-only local in scope and yet is found in the most diverse parts of the
-earth, thus showing plainly that it is autochthonous in character. I
-refer to the custom of so-called father-confinement or 'couvade.' This
-custom prevails in various places, occurring even in Europe, where it
-is practised by the Basques of the Pyrenees, a remarkable fragment of a
-pre-Indo-Germanic population of Europe. Due, probably, to the heavier
-tasks which these people impose upon women, it here occasionally
-occurs in an exaggerated form. Even after the mother has already begun
-to attend to her household duties, the father, lying in the bed to
-which he has voluntarily retired, receives the congratulations of the
-relatives. Custom also demands that he subject himself to certain
-ascetic restrictions, namely, that he avoid the eating of certain kinds
-of food. The custom of couvade is clearly the result of an ideational
-association between husband and wife--one that is absolutely analogous
-to that between the two mothers of the married couple. The child owes
-its existence to both father and mother. Both, therefore, must obey the
-regulations which surround birth, and thus they are also subject to the
-same taboo. Just as there is very commonly a taboo on the mother and
-her new-born child, so also, in the regions where couvade exists, is
-this transferred to the husband.
-
-As is well known, the last vestiges of the taboo of the mother-in-law
-have not yet disappeared, though they survive only in humour, as do
-many other customs that were once seriously practised. In fact, there
-is no other form of relationship, whether by blood or by marriage,
-that is so subjected to the satire of daily life as well as to the
-witticisms and jokes of comic papers as is that of the unfortunate
-mother-in-law. Thus, the primitive taboo resting on the mother-in-law
-and also, even though in lesser degree, on the father-in-law, has
-registered itself in habits that are relatively well known. Graver
-results of the regulations of ancient custom are doubtless to be found
-in those prohibitions of union between relatives by marriage that still
-constitute essential elements of present-day laws. This, of course,
-does not mean that these prohibitions are unjustifiable or that they do
-not reflect natural feelings. They but exemplify the fact that every
-law presupposes a development which, as a rule, goes back to a distant
-past, and that the feelings which we to-day regard as natural and
-original had a definite origin and assumed their present character as
-the outcome of many changes.
-
-Alongside of these later forms of the taboo, and outlasting them, we
-have its most primitive form. This is the taboo which rests on the
-eating of certain foods, particularly the flesh of certain animals,
-though less frequently it applies also to occasional plants. The
-latter, however, probably represents a transference, just as does plant
-totemism. A particular example of such a taboo is the avoidance of
-the bean by the Grecian sect of Orphians and by the Pythagoreans whom
-they influenced. The taboo of certain animals survived much longer.
-But it was just in this case that there came an important shift of
-ideas which gave to the taboo a meaning almost the opposite of that
-which it originally possessed. Proof of such a change is offered by
-the Levitical Priests' Code of Israel. The refined casuistry of the
-priests prescribed even to details what the Israelite might eat and
-what was taboo for him. For the Israelite, however, this taboo was
-not associated with the sacred but with the unclean. The original
-taboo on the eating of the flesh of an animal related, in the totemic
-period, to the sacred animal. This is the taboo in its original form.
-The Australian shrinks from eating the flesh of his totem animal, not
-because it is unclean, but because he fears the revenge of demons
-if he consumes the protective animal of his group. In the Priests'
-Code, the sacred object has become entirely transmuted into an unclean
-object, supposed to contaminate all who eat of it. It is a striking
-fact, however, that the animals which are regarded as unclean are
-primarily the early totem animals--the screech-owl, the bat, the eagle,
-the owl, etc. Of the animals that live in or near the sea, only those
-may be eaten that have scales, that is, only fish proper, and not the
-snake-like fish. The snake itself and the snake-like reptiles are
-taboo, as well as numerous birds--all of which were at a very early
-period totem animals. Heading the list of the animals that may be
-eaten, on the other hand, are the ox, the sheep, the goat--in short,
-the animals of an agricultural and sheep-raising culture. Thus, as
-the original magical motives of taboo disappear, their place is taken
-by the emotion of fear, which causes the object arousing it to appear
-as unclean. Whoever touches such an object is polluted in a physical
-as well as a moral sense, and requires a cleansing purification
-according to rites prescribed by cult. We cannot avoid the impression,
-accordingly, that the unclean animals held to be taboo by the Priests'
-Code, are the same as those which this same people regarded as sacred
-soul and totem animals at an earlier stage of culture. Thus, these
-prohibitions with reference to food are analogous to the impassioned
-preaching against false idolatry--both refer back to an earlier cult.
-In this category belongs also the prohibition of consuming the blood of
-animals in the eating of their flesh. This likewise is the survival of
-a very common belief--certainly prevalent also among the Israelites at
-one time--that with the blood of an animal one might appropriate its
-spirit-power. The priestly law transforms this motive into its direct
-opposite. For the text expressly says: "In the blood is the life; but
-ye shall not destroy the life together with the flesh."
-
-Thus, the significance of the taboo shifts from the sacred, which
-evokes man's fear, to the unclean and demoniacal, which also arouse
-fear but in the form of aversion. Closely related to this change is
-a group of views and customs resulting from this last form of taboo
-and reaching down, as its after-effects, far into the later religious
-development. These are the _purification rites_ connected with the
-ideas of clean and unclean. The word _lustratio_, by which the Romans
-designated these rites, is really more appropriate than the German
-word _Reinigung_, since it suggests more than merely the _one_ aspect
-of these usages. Indeed, the idea of purification is not even primary,
-any more than the conception of the unclean is the initial stage in the
-development of the taboo. On the other hand, the idea that a man might
-be exposed to demoniacal powers by touching an object or by eating a
-certain food, such, for example, as the flesh of certain animals, is in
-entire accord with such primitive notions as are expressed in the fear
-of the corpse and of sickness, as well as in other similar phenomena.
-The essential thing is to escape the demon who is harboured in the
-particular object of concern. This impulse is so irresistible that,
-whenever the idea of taboo arises, the conception of lustration, of a
-magic counteraction to the demoniacal power, is also evolved. Thus,
-magic and counter-magic, here, as everywhere, stand in antithesis. The
-means of such counter-magic are not only very similar throughout the
-most remote parts of the earth, but externally they remain the same
-even throughout the various stages of culture. There are only _three_
-means by which an individual may free himself from the effects of a
-violation of taboo--_water, fire_, and _magical transference_.
-
-Of these means, the one which is the most familiar to us is water.
-Just as water removes physical uncleanness, so also does it wash away
-soul or demoniacal impurity--not symbolically, for primitive man has
-no symbols in our sense of the word, but magically. As water is the
-most common element, so also is it the most common magical means of
-lustration. Besides water, fire also is employed; generally it is
-regarded as the more potent element--in any event, its use for this
-purpose anteceded that of water. Fire, no less than water, is supposed
-to remove the impurity or the demoniacal influences to which a man
-has been exposed. It is especially peculiar to fire, however, that
-it is held not only to free an individual from an impurity which he
-has already contracted, but also to protect him from the possibility
-of contamination. This preventive power, of course, later came to be
-ascribed to water also. Indeed, all the various means of lustration
-may come to be substituted for one another, so that each of them may
-eventually acquire properties that originally belonged exclusively to
-one of the others. The third form of purification, finally, consists
-in a magical transference of the impurity from man to other objects
-or to other beings, as, for example, from a man to an animal. Closely
-associated with such a transference are a considerable number of
-other magic usages. These have even found their way down into modern
-superstition. We need but refer to the above-mentioned cord-magic, by
-which a sickness, for example, is transferred to a tree by tying a cord
-around it.
-
-In the primitive cult ceremonies of the Australians, lustration is
-effected almost exclusively by fire. In America also fire still plays
-an important role, particularly in the cult ceremonies of the Pueblo
-peoples. They kindle a great fire, about which they execute dances. In
-the initiation ceremonies of the Australians, the youths must approach
-very close to the fire or, at times, leap over it. In this way they are
-made proof against future attacks. Such fire-magic reaches down even
-into later civilizations. A survival of this sort is the St. John's
-fire still prevalent in many regions of Europe and, in view of its
-origin, still frequently called 'solstice fire' in southern Germany.
-On these occasions also, the young men and maidens leap over the fire
-and expose themselves to the danger of its flames, in the belief that
-whatever they may wish at the time will come to pass. Here again, as in
-the Australian initiation ceremonies, lustration by fire signifies a
-magic act having reference to the future.
-
-Water is a far more common means of lustration than fire. It everywhere
-gained the ascendancy and at the same time very largely preserved its
-original significance. From early times on it combined the power
-of removing the impurities resulting from the violation of a taboo,
-or, more widely applied, of cleansing from guilt, with the power of
-protecting against impending impurity and guilt. Thus, even in the
-beginnings of taboo usages, the bath, or ablution, was a universal
-means of purification. The _sprinkling_ with water, on the other
-hand, which has held its place even in Christian cult, is a means of
-purification directed primarily to the future. In the so-called Jordan
-festivals of the Greek Catholic Church, ordinary water is changed into
-Jordan water by the magic of the priest. The believer is confident that
-if he is sprinkled with this water he will commit no sin in the course
-of the following year.
-
-Less common, on the whole, is the third form of lustration, that by
-magical transference. Israelitic legend affords a striking example of
-such lustration in the goat which, laden with the sins of Israel, is
-driven by Aaron into the wilderness. He takes the goat, lays both his
-hands on its head, and whispers the sins of Israel into its ear. The
-goat is then driven into the wilderness, where it is to bury the sins
-in a distant place. An analogous New Testament story, moreover, is
-related in St. Matthew's Gospel. We are here told that, in Galilee, a
-man who was possessed of many demons was freed from them by Jesus, who
-commanded them to pass into a herd of swine that happened to be near
-by. Since the demons had previously begged Jesus not to destroy them,
-they were banished into these animals. The swine, however, plunged into
-an adjacent sea, and thus the demons perished with them.
-
-Totem, taboo, lustration, and counter-magic, accordingly, were
-originally closely related to one another, though each of them proved
-capable of initiating new tendencies and of undergoing a further
-independent development. The totem, for example, gave rise to numerous
-sorts of protective demons; the taboo was transferred to the most
-diverse objects, such as aroused feelings of fear and aversion;
-lustration led to the various counter agencies that freed men's minds
-from the ideas of contamination and guilt. These institutions,
-however, were themselves based upon certain more elementary ideas
-whose influence was far from being exhausted in them. On the one hand,
-totemic belief grew out of the belief in souls; on the other hand,
-totemic ideas were the precursors of further developments. The activity
-of totem ancestors was associated with certain inanimate objects,
-such as the Australian churingas, to which magical powers were held
-to have been transmitted. Inasmuch as the totem animal was also an
-ancestral animal, it formed the transition to the elevation of human
-ancestors into cult objects, first on a par with animal ancestors and
-later exalted above them. Thus, there are three sets of ideas which,
-in part, form the bases of totemism, and, in part, reach out beyond
-it, constituting integral factors of further developments of the most
-diverse character. These ideas may be briefly designated as _animism,
-fetishism,_ and _ancestor worship_. Animism, as here used, refers to
-the various forms of the belief in souls. By fetishism, on the other
-hand, is universally meant the belief in the demoniacal power of
-inanimate objects. Ancestor worship, finally, is the worship in cult
-of family or tribal ancestors. The original totemism passes over into
-the higher ancestor worship, which, in turn, issues in hero cult, and
-finally in the cult of the gods.
-
-
-[1] transcribers' note: "causal" is probably meant here.
-
-
-
-11. SOUL BELIEFS OF THE TOTEMIC AGE.
-
-
-Soul ideas, as we have already noted, constitute the basis of totem
-belief, and may thus be said to date back into the pretotemic age, even
-though it is obviously only within the totemic period that they attain
-to their more complete development. If we include the whole of the
-broad domain of soul belief under the term _animism_, the latter, in
-its many diverse forms, may be said to extend from the most primitive
-to the highest levels of culture. It is fitting, however, to enter upon
-a connected account of animism at this point, because the development
-of the main forms of soul belief and of their transformations takes
-place within the totemic age. Moreover, not only is totemism closely
-dependent from the very beginning upon soul conceptions, but the
-development of soul conceptions is to an equal degree affected by
-totemism.
-
-Soul belief, thus, constitutes an imperishable factor in all
-mythology and religion. This accounts for the fact that there are
-some mythologists as well as certain psychologists of religion who
-actually trace all mythology and religion to animism, believing that
-soul ideas first gave rise to demon and ancestor cults, and then to the
-worship of the gods. This view is maintained by Edward Tylor, Herbert
-Spencer, Julius Lippert, and a number of others. Undeniable as it is
-that soul belief has exerted an important influence upon mythological
-and religious thought, it nevertheless represents but one factor among
-others. For this very reason, however, we must consider separately
-its own peculiar conditions, since it is thus alone that we can gain
-an understanding of its relation to the other factors of mythological
-thought. The fittest place for examining this general interconnection
-is just at this point, where we are in the very midst of totemic ideas,
-and where we encounter the transformations of soul ideas in a specially
-pronounced form. Everything goes to show that the most important
-change in the history of the development of soul belief falls within
-the totemic period. This change consists in the distinction between a
-soul that is bound to the body, and which, because of this permanent
-attachment, we will briefly call the _corporeal soul_, and a soul which
-may leave the body and continue its existence independently of it.
-Moreover, according to an idea particularly peculiar to the totemic
-age, this latter soul may become embodied in other living beings,
-especially in animals, but also in plants, and even in inanimate
-objects. We will call this soul _psyche_, the breath or shadow soul. It
-is a breath soul because it was the exhalation of the breath, perhaps,
-that first suggested these ideas; it is a shadow soul since it was
-the dream image, in particular, that gave to this soul the form of a
-shadowy, visible but intangible, counterpart of man. As a fleeting
-form, rapidly appearing and again disappearing, the shadow soul is a
-variety of breath soul. The two readily pass over into each other, and
-are therefore regarded as one and the same psyche.
-
-There is ground for the conjecture that the distinction between these
-two main forms of the soul, the corporeal and the breath or shadow
-soul, is closely bound up with the changed culture of the totemic age.
-Primitive man flees from the corpse--indeed, even from those who are
-sick, if he sees that death is approaching. The corpse is left where
-it lies, and even the mortally ill are abandoned in their helpless
-condition. The living avoid the places where death has entered. All
-this changes in an age that has become familiar with struggle and
-death, and particularly with the sudden death which follows upon the
-use of weapons. This is exemplified even by the natives of Australia,
-who are armed with spear and shield. The warrior who falls before the
-deadly weapon, whose blood flows forth, and who expires in the midst of
-his fellow-combatants, arouses an entirely different impression from
-the man of the most primitive times who dies in solitude, and from
-whose presence the living flee. In addition to the original ideas of a
-soul that is harboured in the body, and that after death wanders about
-the neighbourhood as an invisible demon, we now have a further set of
-ideas. The soul is believed to leave the body in the form of the blood.
-But it may take an even more sudden departure, being sometimes supposed
-to leave in the last breath. In this case, it is held to be directly
-perceptible as a small cloud or a vapour, or as passing over into some
-animal that is swift of movement or possesses such characteristics as
-arouse an uncanny feeling. This idea of a breath soul readily leads to
-the belief that the psyche, after its separation from the body, appears
-in the dream image, again temporarily assuming, in shadowy form, the
-outlines of its original body.
-
-Now the most remarkable feature of this entire development is the fact
-that the idea of the corporeal soul in no wise disappears, as one
-might suppose, with the origin of the breath or shadow soul. On the
-contrary, both continue to exist without any mutual interference. This
-is noticeable particularly in the case of death in war. The belief
-that the soul leaves the body with the blood may here be directly
-combined with the belief that it departs with the breath, though the
-two ideas fall under entirely different categories. Even in Homer this
-combination of ideas is still clearly in evidence. The breath soul is
-said to descend to Hades, there to continue its unconscious existence
-as a dreamlike shadow, while at the same time the corporeal soul is
-thought to inhere not only in the blood but also in other parts of the
-body. Certain particular organs of the body are held to be vehicles
-of the soul; among these are the heart, the respiratory organs, and
-the diaphragm, the latter probably in connection with the immediately
-adjacent kidneys, which these primitive soul ideas usually represent
-as an important centre of soul powers. The believer in animism was
-not in the least aware of any contradiction in holding, as he did for
-a long time, that these two forms, the corporeal soul and the breath
-soul, exist side by side. His concern was not with concepts that might
-be scientifically examined in such a way as to effect a reconciliation
-of the separate ideas or a resolution of their contradictions. Even
-the ancient Egyptians, with their high civilization, preserved a firm
-belief in a corporeal soul, and upon this belief they based their
-entire practice of preserving bodies by means of embalmment. The reason
-for leaving the mouth of the mummy open was to enable the deceased
-person to justify himself before the judge of the dead. That the mummy
-was very carefully enclosed in its burial chamber and thus removed
-from the sphere of intercourse of the living, indicates a survival of
-the fear of demoniacal power which is characteristic of the beginnings
-of soul belief. The Egyptians, however, also developed the idea of a
-purely spiritual soul. The latter was held to exist apart from the body
-in a realm of the dead, from which it was supposed occasionally to
-return to the mummy. It was by this simple expedient of an intercourse
-between the various souls that mythological thought here resolved the
-contradiction between unity and multiplicity as affecting its soul
-concepts--a contradiction which even later frequently claimed the
-attention of philosophy.
-
-When, on a more advanced cultural level, the structure of the body
-came to be more closely observed, a strong impetus was given towards
-a progressive differentiation of the corporeal soul. Certain parts of
-the body, in particular, were singled out as vehicles of the soul.
-Those that are separable from the body, such, for example, as certain
-secretions and the products of growth, received a sort of intermediate
-position between the corporeal soul proper and the breath soul. Chief
-among these was the blood. Among some peoples, particularly the Bantus
-of South Africa, the saliva rivals the blood in importance, possibly
-because of the readily suggested association with the soul that departs
-in the vapour of the breath. The blood soul, however, is by far the
-most universal and most permanent of these ideas. In its after-effects
-it has survived even down to the present. For, when we speak of a
-'blood relationship' uniting those persons who stand close to one
-another through ancestry, the word 'blood' doubtless represents a sort
-of reminiscence of the old idea of a blood soul. To the dispassionate
-eye of the physiologist, the blood is one of the most unstable elements
-of the body, so that, so far as the blood is concerned, the father
-and mother certainly transmit nothing of a permanent nature to their
-descendants. More stable parts of the organism are much more likely
-to be inherited. But, in spite of the fact that blood is one of the
-most transitory of structures, it continues to be regarded as the
-vehicle of the relationship existing between members of a family,
-and even between tribally related nations. More striking expressions
-of the idea of a blood soul are to be found on primitive levels. In
-concluding the so-called blood brotherhood, the exchange of blood,
-according to prevalent belief, mediates the establishment of an actual
-blood relationship. In accordance with a custom which probably sprang
-up independently in many different parts of the earth, each of the two
-parties to the compact, upon entering this brotherhood, took a drop of
-blood from a small, self-inflicted wound and transferred it to the
-corresponding wound of the other. Since the drop of exchanged blood
-represents the blood in general--not merely symbolically, as it were,
-but in real actuality--the two who have entered into the alliance have
-become nearest blood relatives, and thus brothers.
-
-The idea that a soul exists in the blood, however, has also a converse
-aspect. This consists in the fear of shedding blood, since the wounded
-person would thus be robbed of his soul. The belief then arises that
-one who consumes the blood of a sacrificed person or animal also gains
-his soul powers--an idea which likewise comes to have reference to
-other parts of the body, particularly to the specific bearers of the
-soul, such as the heart and the kidneys. Thus, between fear, on the
-one hand, and this striving for power, on the other, a conflict of
-emotions may arise in which the victory leans now to the one and now
-to the other side. But the striving to appropriate the soul which is
-contained in the blood tends to become dominant, since the struggle
-which enkindles the passion for the annihilation of the enemy is also
-probably the immediate cause for acting in accordance with this belief
-concerning the blood. To drink the blood of the slain enemy, to consume
-his heart--these are impulses in which the passion to annihilate the
-foe and the desire to appropriate his soul powers intensify each
-other. These ideas, therefore, also probably represent the origin of
-anthropophagy. Anthropophagy is not at all a prevalent custom among
-primitive tribes, as is generally believed. On the contrary, it is
-just among primitive peoples that it seems to be entirely lacking.
-It appears in its primary forms, as well as in its modifications,
-only where weapons and other phenomena point to intertribal wars, and
-the latter do not occur until the beginning of the totemic age. The
-totemic age, however, is the period which marks the development not
-only of the idea of the blood soul but of other soul ideas as, well.
-Accordingly, anthropophagy is, or was until recently, to be found, not
-among the most primitive peoples such as have not attained to the level
-of totemism, but precisely within the bounds of totemic culture, and,
-in part, in connection with its cults. In these cults, man, as well
-as the animal, becomes an object of sacrifice in the blood offering.
-Human sacrifice of this sort continues to be practised under conditions
-as advanced as deity cult. In the latter, anthropophagy even finds a
-temporary religious sanction, inasmuch as the priest, particularly,
-is permitted to eat of the flesh of the sacrifice. Of course, the
-perpetuation and extension of anthropophagy was not due merely to
-magical motives; even at a very early period, the food impulse was a
-contributing factor. The very fact of the relatively late origin of
-the custom, however, makes it highly improbable that the food impulse
-would, of itself and apart from magical and cult motives, ever have
-led to it, though such an explanation has been offered, especially as
-regards the regions of Oceania where animals are scarce.
-
-In the course of religious development, human sacrifice gave way to
-animal sacrifice, and cult anthropophagy was displaced by the eating of
-the flesh of the sacrificial animal. Inasmuch as the latter cult was
-not only more common than the former but everywhere probably existed
-prior to the rise of human sacrifice, this later period involved a
-recurrence of earlier conditions. Nevertheless, there were phenomena
-which clearly indicated the influence of the fear of the blood, and
-this militated against the appropriation of the blood soul. Of extreme
-significance, for example, was the injunction of the Israelitic
-Priests' Code against partaking of the blood of animals. The original
-motive for drinking the blood became a motive for abstaining from it--a
-counter-motive, in which the prohibition, as in many other cases, may
-also indicate an intentional abandonment of an earlier custom. Among
-the Israelites, as among many other Semitic tribes, the blood of the
-animals was poured out at the sacrificial altar. That which was denied
-man was fitly given to the gods, to whom the life of the animal was
-offered in its blood.
-
-In early ages, reaching down probably into the beginnings of totemic
-culture, _two_ organ complexes, in addition to the blood, were held,
-in an especial degree, to be vehicles of the corporeal soul--the
-kidneys with their surrounding fat, and the external sexual organs. The
-fact that, in many languages, kidneys and testicles were originally
-denoted by the same name, indicates that these two organs were probably
-regarded as essentially related, a view that may possibly be due to the
-position of the urethra, which apparently connects the kidneys with the
-sexual organs. The Bible also offers remarkable testimony in connection
-with the history of the belief that soul powers are resident in the
-kidneys and their appended organs. In the earlier writings of the Old
-Testament, the kidneys, as well as the heart, are frequently referred
-to as bearers of the soul. It is said of God that he searches the
-heart and tries the reins; and Job, afflicted with sorrow and disease,
-complains, "He cleaveth my reins asunder and doth not spare." The
-sacrificial laws of the Israelites, therefore, state that, in addition
-to the blood, the kidneys with their surrounding fat are the burnt
-offering which is most acceptable to God. Rationalistic interpretation
-has sometimes held that man retains the choice parts of the flesh of
-the sacrificial animal for himself and devotes the less agreeable parts
-to the gods. Such motives may have played a role when sacrificial
-conceptions were on the wane. The original condition, however, was
-no doubt the reverse. The most valuable part belonged to the gods,
-and this consisted of the organs that were pre-eminently the vehicles
-of the soul. Though man first aimed to appropriate the soul of the
-sacrifice for himself, the developed religious cult of a later period
-made this the privilege of the deity.
-
-It was only in early custom and cult, however, that the kidneys played
-this role. Indeed, as already indicated, it is not improbable that
-they owe their importance to the fact that their position led to the
-belief that they are a central organ governing particularly the sexual
-functions. That this is the case is corroborated by the fact that,
-in the further development of these ideas of a corporeal soul, the
-kidneys more and more became secondary to the external sexual organs,
-and that the latter long continued to retain the dominant importance.
-Thus, the _phallus cult_, which was prevalent in numerous Oriental
-countries and which penetrated from these into the Greek and Roman
-worlds, may doubtless be regarded as the last, as well as the most
-permanent, expression of those ideas of a central corporeal soul that
-were originally associated with the kidneys and their surrounding
-parts. At the outset, the representation of the phallus was held to be
-not a mere symbol, as it were, but the very vehicle of masculine power.
-As a productive, creative potency, it was regarded as very especially
-characteristic of the deity, and, just as the attributes of deities
-were supposed to be vested in their images, so also was this divine
-power thought to be communicated to the phallus. In addition to and
-anteceding these ideas relating to gods, the phallus was held to be the
-perfect embodiment of demons, particularly of field-demons, who cause
-the ripening and growth of the seed. The belief in phallus-bearing
-demons of fertility probably dates back to the totemic age. The cults,
-however, to which such ideas of the corporeal soul gave rise, reached
-their mature development only in the following period. It was then
-that deity belief was elaborated, and it was in connection with the
-latter that the phallus became a universal magic symbol of creative
-power. With the decline of these cults, the symbol, according to a law
-observable in the case of other phenomena also, was again relegated,
-for the most part, to the more restricted field of its origin.
-
-Vestiges and survivals of the primitive forms of the corporeal soul
-extend far down into later culture. Nevertheless, the second main form
-of soul-belief, that of the _psyche_, comes to gain the prepondering
-influence, at first alongside of the corporeal soul, and then more and
-more displacing it. In this case, the earliest form of the belief,
-that in a _breath soul_, proves to be also the most permanent. The
-idea that the soul leaves the dying person in his last breath, and
-that the breath, therefore, exercises animating or magical effects, or
-that in it the soul may pass over from one person to another, is a
-very common belief. Probably, moreover, it arose independently in many
-different localities. Some primitive tribes have the custom of holding
-a child over the bed of a dying person in order that the soul may pass
-over into it; or, a member of the family stoops over the expiring one
-to receive his soul. Virgil's _Aeneid_ contains an impressive account
-relating that upon Dido's death her sister attempted to catch the soul,
-which, as she assumed, roams about as an aerial form, while she also
-carefully removed the blood from the wound in order that the soul might
-not remain within the body. Thus, the blood soul and the breath soul
-are here closely connected.
-
-In the further destinies of the breath soul, a particularly important
-incident is its passage into some swiftly moving animal, perhaps a
-bird hovering in the air, or, again, some creeping animal, such as the
-lizard or the snake, whose manner of movement arouses uncanny fear.
-It is these animals, chiefly, that are regarded as metamorphoses of
-the psyche. Remarkable evidence that the bird and snake in combination
-were regarded as vehicles of the soul may be found in the pictorial
-representations of the natives of northwestern America. The escape of
-the soul from the body is here portrayed as the departure of a snake
-from the mouth of a human figure seated in a birdlike ship. This
-picture combines three ideas, which occur elsewhere also, either singly
-or in combination, in connection with the wandering of the soul. There
-is, in the first place, the soul-bird; then the soul-ship, readily
-suggested by association with a flying bird, and recurring in the ship
-which was thought in ancient times to cross the Styx of the underworld;
-finally, the soul-snake, representing the soul in the act of leaving
-the body. This very common idea of the soul as a snake and, by further
-association, its conception as a fish, may be ascribed not only to
-the fear aroused by the creeping snake, but also to the circumstances
-attending the decomposition of the corpse. The worm which creeps out
-of the decaying body is directly perceived as a snake. Thus, corporeal
-soul and psyche are again united; in this union they mediate the idea
-of an embodied soul, which, in a certain sense, of course, is a psyche
-retransformed into a corporeal soul.
-
-With the appearance of these ideas of an embodied soul, totemism
-merges directly into soul-belief. Under the influence of the remaining
-elements of totemism, however, the soul-ideas come to be associated
-with more and more animals. The soul is no longer held to be embodied
-merely in the earliest soul-animals--bird, snake, and lizard--but other
-animals are added, such particularly as those of the chase, which
-have a closer relation to the life of man. Following upon this change
-are also the further developments mentioned above. When interest in
-the production of vegetable food is added to that of the chase, the
-same ideas become associated with plants. Their sprouting and growth
-continue to suggest soul-powers; and, even though the ancestor idea
-characteristic of the animal totem cannot attain to prominence because
-of the greater divergence of plants from man, this very fact causes the
-phenomena of sprouting and growth all the more to bring into emphasis
-the magical character of these vegetable totems. Hence it is mainly
-the plant totem that gives rise to those ceremonies and cult festivals
-which are designed for the magical increase of the totems. With the
-wane of the soul-beliefs connected with animal totemism, it is not
-only plants to which demoniacal powers are ascribed. Even inanimate
-objects come to be associated with magical ideas, either because of
-certain peculiar characteristics or because of the function which they
-perform. It is in this way that the introduction of the plant into
-the realm of totemic ideas mediates the transition from the totem to
-the _fetish_. On the other hand, as the totem animal comes more and
-more to be an ancestral animal, and as the memory of human forefathers
-gains greater prominence with the rise of culture, the animal ancestor
-changes into the _human ancestor_. Thus, fetishism and ancestor worship
-are logical developments of totemism. Though differing in tendency,
-they nevertheless constitute developmental forms which are not at all
-mutually exclusive, but which may become closely related, just as is
-the case with the animal and the plant totems from which they have
-proceeded.
-
-Before turning to these later outgrowths of totemic soul-belief,
-however, we must consider their influence upon the important customs
-relating to the _disposition of the dead_. These customs give
-expression to the ideas of death and of the destiny of the soul after
-death. Hence the changes that occur at the beginning and in the course
-of the totemic age as regards the usages relative to the disposal of
-the corpse, mirror the important transformations which the latter
-undergoes. Primitive man, as we have seen, flees from the corpse.
-Dominated solely by his fear of escaping demons, he allows the dead
-to lie where they have died. Thus, no attempt whatsoever is made to
-dispose of the dead, or at most there are but slight beginnings in
-this direction. It is not the dead who vacate the premises in favour
-of the living, but the latter accommodate themselves to the dead.
-Totemic culture, accustomed to armed warfare and sudden death, begins
-from the outset gradually to lose its fear of the dead, even though not
-the fear of death, and this reacts upon the disposal of the corpse.
-Of course, the early custom of depositing the corpse in the open air
-near the place where death has occurred, does not entirely disappear.
-This locality, however, is no longer avoided; on the contrary, anxious
-expectation and observation are now fixed upon the corpse. Just as
-totemic man drinks the blood of those who are slain in battle, in
-order to appropriate their power, so also in the case of those who die
-of disease does he wish to acquire their souls the moment they leave
-the body. Traces of such a custom, indeed, occur even in much later
-times, as is shown in Virgil's above-mentioned account of the death of
-Dido. Within the sphere of totemic ideas, however, where the belief
-in a corporeal soul is still incomparably stronger, though already
-intercrossing with the belief in animal transformations of the psyche,
-the custom of depositing the dead in the open indeed continues to be
-practised, yet the disposition of the corpse changes, becoming, in
-spite of an external similitude, almost the very opposite. The corpse
-is no longer left at the place of death, but is stretched out on a
-mound of earth. This is the so-called 'platform' method of disposal,
-which, as is evident, forms a clear transition to burial, or interment.
-Before the mound of earth covers the body, it forms a platform upon
-which the corpse is laid out to be viewed, a primitive catafalque, as
-it were. This manner of disposing of the corpse has been regarded as
-a custom characteristic of the dominance of totemic culture. This is
-going entirely beyond the facts, since other modes of disposal are
-also to be found even in Oceania and Australia, the chief centres of
-totemism. Nevertheless, the phenomena connected with exposure on a
-platform indicate that a fusion with soul-ideas has now taken place.
-Decomposition follows relatively soon after death, particularly in
-a damp, tropical climate. On the one hand, the liquid products of
-decomposition that flow from the corpse are interpreted as a departure
-of the soul analogous to that which occurs, in the case of death by
-violence, in the loss of blood. As the blood is drunk to appropriate
-the soul of the deceased, so also do the relatives now crowd in to
-partake of the liquid products of decomposition--a transference
-similar to that which sometimes occurs when the powers of the blood
-are ascribed to the saliva or to other secretions. On the other hand,
-the first worm of decomposition to leave the corpse is held to be the
-bearer of the soul. Thus, corporeal soul and psyche are here closely
-fused. The liquid products that leave the body are in themselves
-elements of the corporeal soul, but in their separation from the body
-they resemble a psyche incorporated in an external object; conversely,
-the worm of decomposition is an embodiment of the psyche, which is
-itself represented as proceeding directly from the corporeal soul.
-
-This interplay of soul-forms appears also when we consider the other
-modes of disposing of the dead that are practised in regions where
-totemic culture or its direct outgrowths prevail. Among some of the
-North American Indian tribes, for example, the corpse is buried, but
-a small hole is pierced in the mound of earth over the grave, in order
-to allow the psyche an exit from the body or also a return to it. This
-view of the relation between body and psyche passed down, in a more
-developed form, even into the other-world mythology of the ancient
-Egyptians. The mummification practised in Egypt was also anticipated,
-for the idea of the connection of the soul with the body early led to
-the exsiccation of the corpse in the open air. According to another
-usage, observed particularly in America, the corpse was first buried,
-but then, shortly afterwards, exhumed for the purpose of preserving
-the skull or other bones as vehicles of the soul. The fundamental idea
-seems to have been that the soul survives in these more permanent
-parts of the body; in the case of the skull, an appreciation of the
-importance which the various organs of the head possess for the living
-person may also have played a role. Possibly these ideas likewise
-lie at the basis of the discreditable head-hunting practised by the
-Indians, even though it be true that the skull, which is preserved
-and utilized as a favourite adornment of the exterior of the hut, and
-also the representative of the skull, the scalp, have long been mere
-trophies of victory, similar to the antlers of the stag and the deer
-with which our huntsmen decorate their dwellings. Of the various forms
-of disposing of the dead that are peculiar to the totemic age, however,
-it is interment, the very opposite of platform disposal, that finally
-comes to be adopted in many places. The reason is evidently the same as
-that which impelled primitive man to flee from the corpse. The demons
-of the dead are to be banished into the earth, so that the living may
-pursue their daily activities undisturbed. That this is the aim is
-shown by many accompanying phenomena--such, for example, as the custom
-of firmly stamping down the earth upon the grave, or of weighting the
-burial-mound with stones. Moreover, the custom of burying the corpse
-as soon as possible after death--ordained even at the time of the
-Israelitic law--can hardly have originated as a hygienic provision.
-It is grounded in the fear of demons. When the living themselves no
-longer flee from the dead, this fear all the more necessitates the
-speedy removal of the corpse to the secure protection of the earth. The
-fear of demons is likewise expressed in the fact that prior to burial
-the arms and legs of the corpse are bound to the body. This obviously
-points to a belief that the binding constrains the demon of the dead,
-which is thereby confined to the grave just as is the fettered corpse.
-Herein lies the origin of the so-called 'crouching graves,' which are
-still to be found among the Bushmen, as well as among Australian and
-Melanesian tribes. Gradually, however, a change took place in that the
-binding was omitted, though the position was retained--doubtless a sign
-that fear of the demon of the dead was on the wane.
-
-Under the influence of the profuse wealth of old and new soul-ideas,
-therefore, the totemic age developed a great number of modes of
-disposing of the dead. Of these modes, interment alone has survived.
-It is simpler than the others and may be practised in connection with
-the most diverse ideas of the destiny of the soul. _Cremation_ was the
-only form of disposing of the dead that was unknown, at least in large
-part, to the totemic age. And yet the motives underlying cremation
-belong to the same circle of ideas as those that find expression in
-the customs of taboo and lustration. It is not impossible, therefore,
-that cremation may itself date back to the totemic age. Yet interment
-is universally the earlier mode of disposal; in most parts of the
-earth, moreover, it has also enjoyed a greater permanence. Only in
-isolated districts has interment been displaced by cremation. Even in
-early times it was chiefly among Indo-Germanic peoples that cremation
-was practised, whereas the Semites everywhere adhered to interment.
-If, therefore, cremation occurred in ancient Babylonia, as it appears
-to have done, it probably represents a heritage from the Sumerian
-culture preceding the Semitic immigration. But even among Indo-Germanic
-peoples interment was originally universal. In Greece, it existed as
-late as the period of Mycenian culture. By the time of Homer, on
-the other hand, cremation had already become the prevalent mode of
-disposition of the corpse. Cremation was likewise practised very early
-by the Germans, the Iranians, and the peoples of India. But it was
-always conditioned by one fact which, as a rule, would seem to carry
-us beyond the boundaries of the totemic era. It is significant that
-prehistoric remains show no traces of cremation prior to the beginning
-of the bronze age--a period in which man was capable of utilizing the
-high degrees of heat necessary to melt metals. The tremendous heat
-required for the melting of bronze might well have suggested the idea
-of also melting man, as it were, in the fire. Nevertheless, external
-circumstances such as these played but a secondary role. They leave
-unanswered the decisive question regarding the motives that led to
-the substitution of cremation for interment. This, then, remains our
-unsolved problem, inasmuch as the economic motives at the basis of
-the present endeavour to reintroduce cremation were certainly not
-operative at the time of its origin. With reference to the origin of
-cremation, only psychological probabilities are possible to us. These
-are suggested particularly by the ceremonies which accompany cremation
-in India--the country where this custom has continued to preserve an
-important cult significance down to the very present. Indeed, even
-in our own day it has hardly been possible to eradicate from India
-the custom of burning the widow of the deceased. In particular, two
-different motives to the custom suggest themselves. In the first place,
-as we shall presently see, sacrificial usages, and especially the more
-advanced forms of the sacrifice to the deceased, are closely connected
-with the taboo and purification customs. Purification from a taboo
-violation, however, was attained primarily by two means, water and
-fire. The latter of these means was employed even in very primitive
-times. Now, the corpse, above all else, was regarded as taboo; contact
-with it was thought to bring contamination and to demand the rites
-of lustration. The one who touched a corpse was likewise held to be
-taboo, and as a result he himself might not be touched before having
-undergone lustration. By one of those associative reversals which are
-common in the field of mythology, this then reacted upon the corpse
-itself. The corpse also must be subjected to a lustration by which it
-is purified. Such a purification from all earthly dross is mediated,
-according to the ideas of India, by fire. When the body is burned,
-the soul becomes pure. But connected with this belief, as we may
-conjecture, is still a second idea. The soul or psyche departs in the
-smoke which ascends from the body as this is burned. The body remains
-below in the ashes, while the soul soars aloft to heaven in the smoke.
-In this way, the burning of the corpse is closely connected with
-celestial mythology, which, indeed, was likewise developed relatively
-early among the Indo-Germanic peoples, with whom cremation had its
-centre. The customs of the Semitic peoples were different. They adopted
-the idea of a celestial migration of the soul only at a late period,
-probably under Indo-Aryan influences; but even then they continued to
-practise the ancient custom of burial. Amid these differences, however,
-there is a certain similarity. For, the Semitic peoples believed
-that the celestial migration of the soul would occur only after its
-sojourn under the earth, following upon its resurrection, which, it was
-thought, would take place only at the end of time. It was in this form,
-as is well known, that Christianity took over into its resurrection
-belief the ideas developed by Judaism, and, with them, the custom of
-interment.
-
-
-
-12. THE ORIGIN OF THE FETISH.
-
-
-If, as is customary, we employ the term 'fetish' to mean any natural
-object to which demoniacal powers are ascribed, or, as the word itself
-(Fr. _fetiche_ from Lat. _facticius_, artificially constructed)
-indicates, an artificial, inanimate object of similar powers, a wide
-gulf appears at first glance to separate the fetish from the psyche.
-Nevertheless, the two are very closely related, as is indicated by the
-totemic origin of certain primitive forms of fetishes. In the cults
-of totemic clans, magic stones and pieces of wood are reverenced and
-preserved, being regarded as powerful instruments that were originally
-fashioned, according to legend, by magic beings of a distant past.
-Into the objects has passed the magic power of these ancestors. By
-their agency, the plants and animals which man utilizes as food may
-be increased; through them, evils may be averted and, in particular,
-diseases may be cured. The universal characteristic of the fetish,
-however, over and above this special mode of origin, is the fact that
-it is supposed to harbour a soul-like, demoniacal being. In fact, most
-of the phenomena of so-called fetishism, and those which are still
-regarded as typical of it, are to be found outside of totemic cult.
-It is primarily African fetishism, a cult form which is apparently
-independent of totemism, that has given its characteristic stamp to the
-conception of the fetish. Among the Soudan negroes, fetishes generally
-consist of artificially fashioned wooden objects, not infrequently
-bearing a grimacing likeness of a human face. As regards the possession
-of magical powers, however, they do not differ from the so-called
-churingas of the Australians, although the latter are, as a rule,
-natural objects that have been picked up accidentally and that differ
-from ordinary stones and pieces of wood only in their striking form. It
-is clearly the form, both in the case of the artificial as well as of
-the natural fetish, that has caused the inanimate object to be regarded
-as a demoniacal vehicle of the soul. Yet it is not a lifeless object
-as such that constitutes a fetish, but the fact that a demoniacal,
-soul-like being is believed to lurk within it as an agency of magical
-activities.
-
-At the time of its origin, which was probably totemic, fetishism
-possessed a more restricted meaning than that just given. Defined in
-this broader way, however, fetishism may be said to be disseminated
-over the entire earth. It is a direct offshoot of the belief in a
-corporeal soul, according to which magical powers are resident in
-certain parts of the human body. In Australia and elsewhere, the
-kidneys, particularly, are held to possess magical powers. The same,
-however, is true of the blood--also of the hair, which, as the Biblical
-legend of Samson serves to show, was supposed to be an especial centre
-of demoniacal power, and is still regarded by modern superstition as
-a means of magic. Thus, the transference of the properties of the
-soul to inanimate objects of nature appears, on the one hand, to be
-closely related to the activity of the soul in certain parts of the
-body; on the other hand, it is closely connected with the fact that
-certain independent beings, particularly such as arouse the emotions
-of surprise or fear by their form and behaviour, were believed to
-embody souls. The greater the difference between the object in which
-such a demon takes up his abode and the familiar sorts of living
-beings, the more does its demoniacal activity become a pure product
-of the emotions, which control the imagination that ascribes life
-to the object. Thus, while the characteristics of the totem animal
-and, to a certain extent, even those of the totem plant, continue to
-be determined by their own nature, the fetish is solely the product
-of the mental activities of the fetish believer. Whereas the totem,
-particularly the totem animal, retains in great part the nature of a
-soul, the fetish completely assumes the character of a demon, differing
-from the demons resident in storms, solitary chasms, and other uncanny
-places only in the fact that it is _inseparable from_ the discovered
-or artificially fashioned object. Hence it all the more becomes the
-embodiment of the emotions of its possessor, of his fears and of his
-hopes, ever adapting itself to the mood of the moment.
-
-The development of magical ideas is in an especial measure due to
-the incorporation of demoniacal beings in inanimate objects. Such
-objects circulate freely and may even survive the individual who
-owns them, gaining by their permanence an advantage over the animate
-objects to which soul-like demoniacal powers are ascribed. Inanimate
-objects may embody the magical beliefs of whole generations. This is
-exemplified even in the age of deity beliefs, for a sanctuary acquires
-increasing sacredness with age. And yet the fetish is never valued on
-its own account, as is the totem animal--in part, at least--or the
-organ containing the corporeal soul. The fetish is merely a means for
-furthering purposes of magic. It is especially the fetish, therefore,
-that represents the transition from soul-beliefs to pure magic-beliefs.
-For this reason we may speak of a 'cult of the fetish' only in so
-far as external ceremonies are employed for the purpose of arousing
-the fetish to magical activity. Such a fetish cult does not include
-expressions of reverence and thanksgiving, as do the soul and totem
-cults and later, in a greater measure, the deity cult. A fetishism of
-this sort, purely magical in purpose, may be found particularly in the
-Soudan regions of Africa. Fetishistic magic-cult here prevails in its
-most diverse forms, having, to all appearances, practically displaced
-the original soul and totem beliefs, though traces of the latter are
-everywhere present. Frequently it is an individual who calls upon his
-fetish, perhaps to free him from a sickness, or to protect him from an
-epidemic, or also to aid him in an undertaking, to influence distant
-objects, injure an enemy, etc. But an entire village may also possess a
-fetish in common, committing it to the care of the medicine-man. When
-exigencies arise, a threatening war or a famine, such a village fetish
-is particularly feted in order that he may be induced to avert the
-disaster.
-
-Among cult objects the fetish occupies a low place. Nevertheless,
-it is precisely because the demoniacal powers were supposed to be
-harboured in an inanimate object that the fetish prepared the way for
-the numerous transitions that led to the later cult-objects in the
-form of divine images. The fetish, as it were, was a precursor within
-the totemic age of the divine image of later times. For in the case of
-the latter also, the deity was supposed to be present and immediately
-operative; the image, therefore, was called upon for assistance just
-as was the god himself. Originally, all worship involved an image that
-was supposed to embody the deity. The divine image, of course, differed
-in essential respects from the fetish, for it incorporated, as the
-personal characteristics of the god, those traits that were gradually
-developed in cult. The fetish, on the other hand, was impersonal; it
-was purely a demon of desire and fear. Because its activity resembled
-that of human beings, it was generally given anthropomorphic features,
-though occasionally it was patterned after animals. Sometimes no such
-representation was attempted, but, as in the case of the Australian
-churingas, an object was left just as it was found, particularly if
-it possessed a striking form. Nor did the divine image come of a
-sudden to its perfected form. Just as it was only gradually, in the
-development of the religious myth, that the god acquired his personal
-characteristics, so also did art search long in every particular case
-for an adequate expression of the divine idea. In so doing, art not
-merely gave expression to the religious development, but was itself an
-important factor in it. The development, however, had its beginning in
-the fetish. Moreover, so long as the god remains a demoniacal power
-without clearly defined personal traits, the divine image retains the
-indeterminate character of the fetish image. Even among the Greeks the
-earliest divine images were but wooden posts that bore suggestions of
-a human face; they were idols whose external appearance was as yet
-in nowise different from that of fetishes. The same is true of other
-cultural peoples in so far as we have knowledge of their earliest
-objects of religious art.
-
-But there may be deterioration as well as advance. Wherever artistic
-achievement degenerates into the crude products of the artisan, the
-divine image may again approximate to the fetish. Religious cult may
-suffer a similar relapse, as is shown by many phenomena of present-day
-superstition. When religious emotions are restricted to very limited
-desires of a magical nature, the cult also may degenerate into its
-earliest form, so that the image of the deity or saint, reverting
-into a fetish, again becomes a means of magic. It is primarily such
-degenerate practices, or, as they might also be called, such secondary
-fetish-cults, that give the phenomena of so-called fetishism their
-permanent importance in the history of religion. The complexity
-of this course of development has led psychologists of religion to
-conflicting views in their interpretations of fetishism. On the one
-hand, the primitive nature of fetishes, and the fact that the earliest
-divine images resemble fetishes, have led to the assertion that
-fetishism is the lowest and earliest form of religion. On the other
-hand, fetishism has been regarded as the result of a degeneration, and
-as universally presupposing earlier or contemporary religious cults of
-a higher character. The latter of these views particularly, namely,
-the degeneration theory, is still maintained by many historians of
-religion, especially by those who believe that monotheism was the
-original belief of all mankind. The evidence for this theory is derived
-mainly from cultural phenomena of the present. The image of a saint, as
-is rightly maintained, may still occasionally degenerate into a fetish,
-as occurs when it is regarded as the seat of magical powers, or when
-its owner believes that he possesses in it a household idol capable of
-bringing him weal or woe. It was particularly Max Mueller who championed
-the degeneration theory. Even in his last writings on mythology he held
-firmly to the view that fetishism is a phenomenon representing the
-decay of religious cults. But if we take into account the entire course
-of development of the fetish, this view collapses. Though substantiated
-by certain events that occur within higher religions, it leaves
-unconsidered the phenomena that are primitive. The earliest fetishistic
-ideas, as we have seen, go far back into the period of soul and demon
-beliefs. Developing from the latter, they were at first closely bound
-up with them, though they later attained a relative independence, as
-did so many other mythological phenomena. To think of fetishism as a
-degeneration of religious cults is inadmissible for the very reason
-that, in so far as such cults presuppose deity ideas, they cannot as
-yet be said to exist. A striking proof of this contention is offered
-particularly by that form of fetish cult, the churingal ceremony of
-the Australians, in which the connection with related primitive ideas
-may be most clearly traced. The churingal ceremony falls entirely
-within the development of totemism, and arises naturally under certain
-conditions; it is no more the product of degeneration than is the
-appearance of plant totemism in place of animal totemism. The basal
-step in the development of the fetish is the incorporation of soul-like
-demoniacal powers in inanimate objects, whether these be objects as
-they are formed by nature or whether they are artificially constructed.
-Such objects may result from a deterioration of religious art, but
-this is by no means the only alternative. In their original forms,
-they are allied to far more primitive phenomena, such as antedate both
-religious art and even religion itself, in the true sense of the word.
-For, of the many forms of the fetish, the most primitive is obviously
-some natural object that has been accidentally discovered. Such are
-the churingas of the Australians, and also many of the fetishes of the
-negroes, although others are artificially fashioned. The selection of
-such a fetish is determined in an important measure by the fact that it
-possesses an unusual form. The man of nature expects to find symmetry
-in animals and plants, but in stones this appears as something rare.
-Astonishment, which, according to circumstances, may pass over into
-either fear or hope, causes him to believe some soul-like being to be
-resident in the inanimate object. This accounts for the existence of
-such legends as those that have survived among some of the Australian
-tribes, in which fetishes, or churingas, are represented as the legacy
-of certain fantastically conceived ancestors. From the natural to the
-artificial fetish is but a short step. When natural objects are not to
-be found, man supplies the want. He constructs fetishes, intentionally
-giving them a striking form resembling that of a man or of some animal.
-Such fetishes are then all the more regarded as abodes of soul-like
-beings.
-
-Hence we must also regard as untenable that theory which, in contrast
-with the degeneration theory, represents fetishism as a primitive
-mythology or even as the starting-point of all mythology and religion.
-The fetish is not at all an independent cult-object characteristic
-of some primitive or more advanced stage of development. It always
-represents a secondary phenomenon which, in its general significance
-as an incorporation of demoniacal powers of magic, may occur anywhere.
-If, however, we inquire as to when fetishistic ideas make their first
-appearance, and where, therefore, they are to be found in their
-relatively primitive form, we will find that they are rooted in
-totemic ideas. Hence it is as a particular modification of such ideas
-that fetishism must be regarded. In the metamorphosis, of course,
-some of the essential traits of the original totem disappear. The
-fetish, consequently, acquires a tendency toward independence, toward
-becoming, apparently, a separate cult-object. This is illustrated by
-the fetish cult of many negro tribes. To however great an extent such
-independent cults may frequently have displaced the totemism from
-which they sprang, they nevertheless belong so properly to the totemic
-world of demons and magic that fetishism, in its genuine form, may
-unquestionably be regarded as a product of the totemic age.
-
-Further verification of this contention may be found in the history
-of certain incidental products of fetishistic ideas, the _amulet_ and
-the _talisman_. These occur at all stages of religious growth, but
-their development falls principally within the totemic period. The two
-objects are closely related, yet they differ essentially both from one
-another and from their parent, the fetish. It has, of course, been
-denied that a distinction may be drawn between these various objects
-of magic belief. From a practical point of view, this may doubtless
-sometimes be true, one and the same object being occasionally used
-now as a fetish and then again as an amulet or a talisman. But it is
-precisely their use that distinguishes these objects with sufficient
-sharpness from one another. The amulet and talisman are purely magical
-objects, means by which their possessor may produce magical effects.
-The fetish, however, is a magic-working _subject_, an independent
-demoniacal being, which may lend aid but may also refuse it, or, if
-hostilely disposed, may cause injury. The amulet, on the other hand,
-always serves the purpose of protection. Not infrequently amulets
-are held to ward off merely some one particular disease; others are
-designed to avert sickness in general. In a broadened significance,
-the amulet then comes to be regarded as a protection against dangers
-of every sort, against the weapon no less than against malicious
-magic. Nevertheless, the amulet is always a means of protection to its
-possessor. It is its _passive_ function, that of protection, which
-differentiates the amulet from the talisman. The latter, which is
-far less prominent, particularly in later development, and which is
-finally to be found only in the world of imaginal tales, is an _active_
-means of magic. By means of a talisman, a man is able to perform
-at will either some one magical act or a number of magical feats.
-The philosopher's stone of mediaeval superstition exemplifies such a
-means of magic. In this case, the ancient talisman-idea captured even
-science. The philosopher's stone was supposed to give its possessor
-the power to unlock all knowledge, and thus to gain control over
-the objects of nature. This illustrates the talisman in its most
-comprehensive function. In its restriction to a particular power, it
-makes its appearance in hero and deity legend, and even to-day in the
-fairy-tale. Such an active means of magic is represented by the helmet
-of invisibility, by the sword which brings death to all against whom it
-is turned, or, finally, by the _Tischlein-deck-dich_.
-
-The two magical objects are generally also sharply distinct in their
-mode of use. The amulet is designed to render protection as effectively
-as possible against external dangers; it must be visible, for every one
-must see that its bearer is protected. Hence almost all amulets are
-worn about the neck. This was true of primitive man, and holds also
-of the survivals of the ancient amulets--women's necklaces, and the
-badges of fraternal organizations worn by men. The fact that a simple
-cord was used among primitive peoples and still prevails in present-day
-superstition, makes it probable that the original amulet was the cord
-itself, fastened about the neck or, less frequently, about the loins or
-the arm. Later, this cord was used to support the amulet proper. Even
-the Australians sometimes wear a piece of dried kidney suspended from
-a cord of bast--we may recall that the kidney is one of the important
-seats of the corporeal soul. The hair, teeth, and finger-nails of
-the dead likewise serve as amulets, all of them being parts of the
-body which, because of their growth, might well give rise to the idea
-that they, particularly, possessed soul-like and magical powers. The
-custom of attaching hair, or a locket containing hair, to a necklace,
-has survived even down to the present, though, of course, with a
-far-reaching change of meaning. The magical protection of earlier ages
-has become a memorial of a loved one who has died. But here likewise we
-may assume that the change was gradual, and that the present custom,
-therefore, represents a survival of the primitive amulet. There are
-other objects also that apparently came to be amulets because of their
-connection with soul-ideas. Of these, one of the most remarkable is the
-scarab of the ancient Egyptians, which likewise continues to be worn
-even to-day. This amulet is a coloured stone shaped like a beetle--more
-specifically, the scarab. This beetle, with its red wing-coverings,
-has approximately the form of a heart; for this reason, both it and
-its representation were thought to be wandering hearts. As an amulet,
-however, its original significance was that of a vehicle of the soul,
-designed to protect against external dangers.
-
-Whereas the amulet is worn so as to be visible, the talisman, on the
-contrary, is hidden so far as possible from the observing eye. It is
-either placed where it is inconspicuous, as is, for example, the finger
-ring, or it possesses the appearance of a familiar object. The magical
-sword gives no visible evidence of its unusual power; the helmet of
-invisibility resembles an ordinary helmet; the _Tischlein-deck-dich_ of
-the fairy-tale is in form not unlike any other table. It is with much
-the same idea that the Soudan negro who sets out upon an undertaking
-still takes with him some peculiar and accidentally discovered stone,
-in the hope that it will assist him in danger. This also is an example
-of a talisman, and not of a fetish.
-
-
-
-13. THE ANIMAL ANCESTOR AND THE HUMAN ANCESTOR.
-
-
-The ideas fundamental to the cult of _human ancestors_, though also
-connected with soul-beliefs, are radically different from those that
-gave rise to the fetish. Whereas some mythologists have been inclined
-to regard fetishism as the primitive form of religion, others have made
-this claim for ancestor worship. The latter have believed that ancestor
-worship could be traced back to the very beginnings of culture, and
-that the god-ideas of the higher religions were a metamorphosis of
-ancestor ideas. This is corroborated, in their opinion, by the fact
-that in the age of natural religions the ruler or the aristocracy
-very generally claimed descent from the gods, and that the ruler and
-the hero were even worshipped as gods. The former is illustrated by
-the genealogy of Greek families; the latter, by the Roman worship of
-emperors, which itself but represented an imitation of an Oriental
-custom that was once very common. All these cases, however, are clearly
-secondary phenomena, transferences of previously existing god-ideas
-to men who were either living or had already died. But even apart
-from this, the hypothesis is rendered completely untenable by the
-facts with which the history of totemism and of the earlier, more
-primitive conditions has made us familiar. Not a trace of ancestor
-worship is to be found among really primitive men. We have clear proof
-of this in their manner of disposing of the dead. So far as possible,
-the dead are left lying where they happen to be, and no cult of any
-kind is connected with them. Totemism, moreover, gives evidence of
-the fact that the cult of animal ancestors long anteceded that of
-human ancestors. Thus, then, the theory that ancestor worship was the
-primitive religion belongs essentially to an age practically ignorant
-of totemism and its place in myth development, as well as of the
-culture of primitive man. This era of a purely _a priori_ psychology
-of religion still entertained the supposition, rooted in Biblical
-tradition, of an original state of pure monotheism. In so far as this
-view was rejected, fetishism and ancestor worship were generally rivals
-as regards the claim to priority in the succession of religious ideas.
-The only exception occurred when these practices were regarded as
-equally original, as they were, essentially, in the theories of Herbert
-Spencer, Julius Lippert, and others. In this event, the original form
-of the fetish was held to be an ancestral image which had become an
-object of cult.
-
-True, along with the totemic ideas of animal ancestors we very
-early find indefinite and not infrequently grotesque ideas of human
-ancestors. In the 'Mura-mura' legends of southern Australia these ideas
-are so interwoven that they can scarcely be untangled. These Mura-mura
-are fanciful beings of an earlier age, who are represented as having
-transmitted magical implements to the generations of the present era
-and as having instructed the ancestors of the Australians in magical
-ceremonies. A few of the legends relate that the Mura-mura also created
-the totem animals, or transformed themselves into the latter. Here,
-then, we already find a mutual interplay between ideas of human and
-conceptions of animal ancestors. As yet, however, no clear-cut idea of
-a _human_ ancestor has been formed. This never occurs--a fact of prime
-importance as concerns its development--until the _totem ancestor_ has
-lost his significance, and the original tribal totemism has therefore
-become of subordinate importance, even though totemism itself has not
-as yet completely disappeared. Under such circumstances the totem
-animal becomes the protective animal of the _individual_; the animal
-ancestor is displaced by the demon which mysteriously watches over
-the individual's life. This transition has already been touched upon
-in connection with the development of totemic ideas. Coincident with
-it, there is an important change with respect to the character of the
-totem animal. The tribal totem is an animal species. The Australian,
-whose totem, let us say, is the kangaroo, regards all kangaroos which
-he meets as sacred animals; he may not kill them, nor, above all,
-eat of their flesh. In the above-mentioned development of totemism
-(which is at the same time a retrogression) the totem animal becomes
-individualized. The protective animal--or the animal of destiny, as we
-might refer to it, in view of its many changes in meaning--is but an
-individual animal. A person may possibly never have seen the animal
-that keeps guard over him; nevertheless, he believes that it is always
-near at hand. The unseen animal which thus accompanies him is therefore
-sometimes also called his 'bush soul'; it is hidden somewhere in the
-bushes as a sort of animal double. Whatever befalls the person likewise
-happens to it, and conversely. For this reason it is very commonly
-believed that, if this animal should be killed, the person also must
-die. This makes it clear why the North American Indian calls the
-animal, not his ancestor, but his 'elder brother.'
-
-In South African districts, especially among the Bantus where the bush
-soul is common, and in North America, where the tribal totem has become
-a coat of arms, and fable and legend therefore continue all the more
-to emphasize the individual relation between a person and an animal,
-the idea of a _human_ ancestor receives prominence. The totemic tribal
-organization as a whole, together with the totemic nomenclature of
-the tribal divisions, may continue to exist, as occasionally happens
-among the Bantus and in North America, even though the tribal totems
-proper have disappeared and become mere names, and the animal itself
-possesses no live importance except as a personal protector. But since
-the totemic tribal organization perpetuates the idea of a succession
-of generations, the human ancestor necessarily comes to assume the
-place of the animal ancestor. This change is vividly represented by the
-totem poles of the Indians of northwestern America. These totem poles
-we have already described. The head of the animal whose representation
-has become the coat of arms here surmounts a series of faces of human
-ancestors. Such a monument tells us, more plainly than words possibly
-could: These are the ancestors whom I revere and who, so far as memory
-reaches back, have found the symbol of their tribal unity in the animal
-which stands at their head. But totem poles do more than merely to
-directly perpetuate this memory. Though probably without the conscious
-intention of the artists who fashioned them, they also suggest
-something else, lost to the memory of living men. In the belief of
-earlier ages, this human ancestor was preceded by an animal ancestor to
-whom the reverence which is now paid to the human ancestors was at one
-time given. Thus, the animal ancestor was not only prior to the human
-ancestor from an external point of view, but gave rise to him through a
-necessity immanent in the course of development itself.
-
-The transition from animal to human ancestors, furthermore, is closely
-bound up with coincident transformations in tribal organization.
-Wherever a powerful chieftainship arises, and an individual,
-overtowering personality obtains supremacy over a tribe or clan--such
-supremacy as readily tends to pass down to his descendants--it is
-particularly likely that a cult will be developed in his honour, and,
-upon his death, to his memory. Since the memory of this personality
-outlasts that of ordinary men, the individual himself is held to live
-on after death, even in regions where there is no belief in a universal
-immortality. Hence, according to a belief prevalent particularly
-among the negro peoples, the ordinary man perishes with death; the
-chieftain, however, or a feared medicine-man, continues to live at
-least until all memory of him has vanished. In some parts of Africa and
-Oceania, moreover, the cult of the living chieftains not only involves
-manifestations of a servile subjection but, more characteristically
-still, causes even his name to be tabooed. No one is allowed to
-speak it, and whoever bears the same name must lay it aside when the
-chieftain assumes control.
-
-As a result of the change in totemic tribal organization induced
-by the growing significance of chieftainship, the cult of _living_
-ancestors, as we may conclude from these phenomena, takes precedence
-over that of the just deceased, and still more over that of the long
-departed. In comparison with the importance which the man of nature
-attributes to living persons, that attaching to the dead is but slight,
-and diminishes rapidly as the individuals fade from memory. Individual
-rulers, whose deeds are remembered longer than those of ordinary men,
-may lay the foundations for an historical tradition. Nevertheless, the
-present long continues to assert a preponderating claim in belief as
-well as in cult. So long as man himself lives only for the present,
-having little regard for the future and scarcely any at all for the
-past, his gods also--in so far as we may apply this name to the
-supersensuous powers that shape his life--are _gods of the present_.
-True, the totem animal is secondarily also an animal ancestor. And yet
-it is only the living totem animal that is the object of cult and is
-believed to possess protective or destructive powers; compared with it,
-the ancestor idea fades into nebulous outlines, gaining a more definite
-significance only in so far as it is an expression of the tribal
-feeling which binds the members of the community to one another.
-
-A further important factor enters into this development. This is the
-cult ceremony connected with the _disposition of the dead_. In this
-case, the departed one to whom the ceremony is dedicated is still
-directly present to memory. He holds, as it were, an intermediate
-position between the realm of the living and that of the dead. The
-memorial ceremony held in his honour also restores to memory older
-generations of the departed, even though this may cause their specific
-features to fade into indefiniteness and to assume outlines whose
-vagueness renders them similar. The American totem poles furnish a
-concrete portrayal of such a series of ancestors in which individual
-characteristics are totally lacking. Nevertheless, even under very
-diverse circumstances, we find that the ceremony in honour of one who
-has just died comes to develop into a general festival of the dead,
-and thus to include more remote generations. The circle of those who
-are honoured is likewise extended; the cult comes to be one that
-commemorates not merely chieftains but all tribesmen. As the wider
-tribal bonds dissolve, the clan, and then later the family, pay their
-homage to the departed on the occasion of his funeral, and to earlier
-generations of the dead on specific days dedicated to such memories.
-This is the course of development in which the ancestor festivals of
-the Chinese and Japanese have their origin, as well as the cults of the
-Roman _dii manes_; it has introduced elements, at least, of ancestor
-worship into the beginnings of all religions, even though this cult but
-rarely attained the pre-eminent importance which it possessed among the
-cultural peoples of the Orient.
-
-But whatever may have been the character of this earlier strain of
-ancestor worship in religious development, the beginning of a true
-ancestor cult is closely bound up with the universalization due to
-its having become the cult of the hearth and the family. As it is the
-human ancestor who displaces the animal ancestor in this cult, so
-the transition by which the _family_ comes to be the central factor
-in social organization is an external indication of the dissolution
-of totemic culture and the dawning of a new era. In view of the
-predominant mythological and religious creations of this period, it
-might be called the age of heroes and gods. Ancestor worship itself is
-at the turning-point of the transition to the new era. In origin, it
-belongs to totemic culture: in its later development, it is one of the
-most significant indications of the dissolution of totemism, preparing
-the way for a new age in which it continues to hold an important
-place. At the same time, ancestor worship, no less than its rival,
-fetishism, constitutes but one factor among others in the development
-of mythological thought as a whole. In certain localities, as in the
-civilizations of eastern Asia, it may become sufficiently prominent
-to be one of the principal elements of religious cult. But even in
-such cases, ancestor worship is never able entirely to suppress the
-remaining forms of cult; still less can it be regarded as having given
-rise to the other fundamental phases of religious development--these
-rest on essentially different motives. Moreover, in connection with the
-relation of totemism to the ancestor worship which is rooted in the
-former and at the same time displaces it in one line of development, it
-is important to notice that in a certain sense the two follow opposite
-paths. As we have seen, the original totem--that is, the tribal
-totem--is the animal species in general; the last form of totem is the
-protective animal, which is an individual animal. Ancestor worship,
-on the other hand, begins with the adoration of humanly conceived
-benefactors and prominent tribesmen. It ends with a worship in which
-the individual ancestor gives way to the general idea of ancestor, in
-whom the family sees only a reflection of its own unity and an object
-in terms of which reverence is paid to past generations. The fact that
-ancestor cult centres about impersonal beings betrays a religious
-defect. Herein also is evidenced the continuing influence of the
-totemic age, for it was in this period that ancestor worship had its
-rise. The defect just mentioned was first overcome with the origin of
-_god-ideas_. One of the essential characteristics of gods is precisely
-the fact that they are _personal_ beings; each of them is a more or
-less sharply defined individuality. This of itself clearly indicates
-that ancestor worship is at most a relatively unimportant factor in the
-origin of gods.
-
-
-
-14. THE TOTEMIC CULTS.
-
-
-The primitive stage of human development, discussed in the preceding
-chapter, possessed no real cults in the strict sense of the term.
-Occasional suggestions or beginnings of cult acts were to be found,
-in the form of a number of magical customs. Such, particularly, were
-the efforts to expel sickness demons; also, the ceremonial dances
-designed to bring success to joint undertakings, as, for example, the
-above-mentioned dance of the Veddah about an arrow, whose purpose,
-perhaps, was to insure a successful hunt, if we would judge, among
-other things, from the fact that the dancers imitated the movements of
-animals.
-
-In contrast to these meagre magical usages, which, for the most part,
-served individual purposes, the totemic age developed a great variety
-of cults. Just as the totemic tribal organization is an impressive
-phenomenon when compared with the primitive horde, so also do we
-marvel at the rich development of cults with which we meet as we pass
-to the totemic age. These cults are associated not only with the most
-important events of human life but also with natural phenomena, though,
-of course, only in so far as the latter affect the interests of man,
-the weal or woe that is in store for the individual or for the tribal
-community. Generally speaking, therefore, these cults may be divided
-into two great classes. Though these two classes of cults are, of
-course, frequently merged and united--for the very reason that both
-spring from the same emotions of hope, of desire, and of fear--they
-are nevertheless clearly distinguishable by reference to the immediate
-purpose which the magic of the cult aims to serve. The first of these
-classes includes those cults which relate to the most significant
-events of human life; the second, those concerned with the natural
-phenomena most important to man.
-
-Human life furnishes motives for cult acts in its origin as in its
-decline, in birth and in death. Other motives are to be found in
-significant intervening events, such primarily as the entrance of the
-youth into manhood, though in the case of the maiden, ceremonies of
-this sort are very secondary or are entirely lacking. Of these most
-important events of life, that of birth is practically removed from
-present consideration. No ceremony or cult is connected with it. Not
-infrequently, however, the idea prevails that the child becomes capable
-of life only on condition that its parents endow it with life a second
-time, as it were, by an express act of will. Thus, many Polynesian
-tribes allow parents to put to death a new-born infant. Only after
-the child has lived several hours has it gained a right to existence
-and does the duty of rearing it devolve upon the parents. There is a
-survival of similar ideas in the older usages of cultural peoples,
-though they have not led to the widespread evils of infanticide as they
-have among many peoples of nature. But even among the early Germans,
-Romans, and Greeks, the life of a new-born child was secure only after
-the father had given recognition to it in a symbolical act--such, for
-example, as lifting it from the earth. On the other hand, the previous
-act of laying the child on the ground frequently came to be symbolical
-of the idea that it, as all living things, owes its existence primarily
-to mother earth. With this act of an express recognition of the child,
-moreover, there is also bound up the unconditional obedience which the
-child, even down to a late period, was held to owe to its parents.
-
-The fewer the cult acts connected with entrance upon life, the greater
-is the number that attend departure from it. Almost all cults of the
-dead, moreover, originate in the totemic age. Wherever traces of
-them appear at an earlier stage, one can hardly avoid the suspicion
-that these are due to the influences of neighbouring peoples. Now,
-the totemic cults of the dead are closely interrelated with the
-above-described usages relating to the disposition of the corpse.
-They make their appearance particularly when the original signs of
-fear and of flight from the demon of the dead begin to vanish, and
-when reverence comes into greater and greater prominence, as well
-as the impulse to provide for a future life of the dead--a life
-conceived somehow as a continuance of the present. The clansmen
-solemnly accompany the corpse to its burial; death lamentations assume
-specific ceremonial forms, for whose observance there is very commonly
-a special class of female mourners. The cries of these mourners, of
-course, still appear to express the emotion of fear in combination
-with that of grief. The main feature of the funeral ceremonies comes
-to be a _sacrifice to the dead_. Not only are the usual articles of
-utility placed in the grave--such, for example, as a man's weapons--but
-animals are slaughtered and buried with the corpse. Where the idea of
-rulership has gained particular prominence--as, for example, among the
-Soudan and Bantu peoples of Africa--slaves and women must also follow
-the deceased chieftain into the grave. Evidently these sacrifices are
-intended primarily for the deceased himself. They are designed to help
-him in his further life, though in part the aim is still doubtless that
-of preventing his return as a demon. In both cases, these usages are
-clearly connected with the increased importance attached to the psyche,
-for they first appear with the spread of the belief in a survival
-after death and in soul migration. These sacrifices are doubtless
-regarded partly as directly supplying the necessary means whereby the
-soul of the dead may carry on its further existence and partly as
-magical instruments that make it possible for the deceased to enjoy a
-continuance of life. Thus, these sacrifices already involve ideas of a
-beyond, though, generally speaking, the latter did not as yet receive
-further development.
-
-At this point, sacrifice to the dead undergoes further modifications,
-as a consequence of which there are also changes in the accompanying
-cult acts. The sacrifice of food dedicated to the use of the deceased
-and the bloody sacrifice designed to equip him with magical power,
-are no longer offered merely to the departed. As soon as god-ideas
-begin to emerge, the sacrifice is brought, in first instance, to
-these higher beings, who are implored to furnish protection to the
-deceased. As this latter motive gains the ascendancy, the slaughtered
-animals are no longer placed in the grave along with the deceased, but
-their blood is poured out upon it; of their flesh, moreover, only a
-part is thrown upon the grave as the portion of the dead, while the
-rest is consumed by the mourners. The feelings of reverence, thus
-expressed, issue, in the later development of these cults to the dead,
-in general ancestor worship. Not only the deceased himself and those
-who have assembled, but particularly the gods under whose protection
-the deceased is placed, receive a portion of the sacrifice. When this
-occurs, the offering, which had been devoted to the deceased, becomes
-sacrifice proper. The offering was given solely to the one who had
-died; at first, its purpose was to keep him in his grave, later,
-to afford him aid in his further life. Real sacrifice to the dead
-involves _three_ parties--the deceased person, the deity, and the
-survivors. The deceased gains new life from the blood and flesh of
-the sacrificial animal; the deity is subjected to a magical influence
-which is to incline him favourably toward the departed; those who
-bring the sacrifices participate in this favour, since they enter
-into a magical union both with the deceased and with the protecting
-deity. In part, these developments extend on beyond the totemic age;
-their beginnings, however, are already everywhere present. True, in
-this early sacrifice to the dead the attempt to exercise a magical
-influence upon the deity--later, as we shall see, the essential feature
-of the sacrificial idea--is still in the background. Nevertheless,
-this magical feature, which characterizes sacrifice at the height of
-its development, has already made its appearance. Because of it, the
-original sacrifice to the dead possesses a significance intermediate
-between the two distinct concepts of a gift which sacrifice has been
-held to embody. Though originally a gift to the deceased, an offering
-laid beside him, sacrifice became a means of protective magic for him
-and for the survivors. When the deity came to constitute a third member
-of this magical group, and as he gradually gained the dominant place,
-the idea of a gift again began to displace the purely magical idea.
-The gift, however, was now a gift to the deity. This was the final
-stage in the development of sacrifice and represents the basis of the
-ordinary rationalistic interpretation. Originally, however, sacrifice
-possessed a different significance. It was purely a magical act, as is
-shown by the further circumstance that it is precisely the sacrifice
-to the dead which was already practised at a time when there were as
-yet no gods but merely a belief in demons. Additional evidence may be
-found in the nature of the sacrificial gifts which are deposited in the
-graves, particularly where ancestor worship prevails--as, for example,
-in the realms of East Asiatic culture. In these regions, it is not the
-objects themselves with which the deceased is to be equipped for his
-future life that are buried, but miniature paper representations of
-them. These representations are really not symbols, as is generally
-held--or, at any rate, this is only a later and retrogressive form of
-the idea--but they are sensuously embodied desires originally regarded
-as means of magic. In this case also, we may detect the influence of
-soul-ideas, which lie at the basis of all beliefs of this sort. As the
-psyche of the dead is supposed to reincarnate itself in a new organism,
-so likewise are the object-souls incorporated in these representative
-miniatures to transform themselves, by means of the magical power
-attaching to their shape, into corresponding real objects. But in this
-instance again, the further modifications in the sacrifice to the dead
-lead on into deity cult. Hence it is not until our next chapter, when
-we discuss deity cults, that we will deal with the sacrificial idea in
-its total development.
-
-Connected with another life-event to which this age attaches particular
-importance is a further significant group of totemic cults. This
-consists in the celebration of the adolescence of youths in the
-so-called _initiation ceremonies_. In a period such as this, when
-intertribal struggles are a matter of increasing concern, the reception
-of a youth into the association of men, into the community of the hunt
-and of war, represents the outstanding event of his life. Beginnings of
-such celebrations were transmitted by the primitive age to the totemic
-era, but it is only at this later period that they are developed into
-great cult festivals. It is these festivals, particularly, which
-everywhere recur in essentially the same form among all the tribes
-of Australia. They are great folk festivals, frequently assembling
-the clans of friendly tribes. Their celebration consists of dances
-and songs, though primarily of ceremonies centring about the youths
-who are reaching the age of maturity. For a considerable period these
-youths have been prepared for the festival by the older men. They have
-been subjected to a strict asceticism for weeks beforehand; meanwhile
-they have also been trained in the use of weapons, and instructed in
-certain matters of which the young are kept in ignorance. The actual
-celebration, which always occurs at night, includes ceremonies which,
-in part, involve extreme pain to the novices. The youths are obliged
-to stand very close to a fire kindled in the centre of the ceremonial
-ground. The older men, with painted faces, then execute dances, in
-which the women are forbidden to participate. An important feature of
-these dances is the imitation of totem animals. This also provides
-an opportunity for humorous episodes. During these pranks, however,
-the youths are compelled to remain serious. Moreover, they must give
-evidence of fortitude by fearlessly leaping over the fire. In many
-of these regions, there is a further ceremony, which is extremely
-peculiar and of uncertain significance. This consists in the knocking
-out of teeth. Generally the operation is performed by the medicine-man
-or, as he ought perhaps to be called in this capacity, the priest.
-The latter presses the teeth of his own lower jaw against one of the
-incisors of the upper jaw of the novice, thus loosening the tooth so
-that it may easily be knocked out with a stone hammer. This is the most
-primitive form of tooth deformation, a practice common to numerous
-peoples of nature as a means of beautification. That the original
-purpose was not cosmetic is clear. Whatever other end it was intended
-to serve, however, is uncertain, though it was doubtless connected
-with cult. Perhaps its meaning is suggested in the fact that, before
-marriage, girls also were frequently deprived of a front tooth, and
-that the idea prevailed, possibly in connection with this custom, that
-the exchange of breath, and thus the breath-soul, may play a part in
-the act of procreation. It is not unreasonable to suppose that these
-ideas may represent the origin of the kiss. At any rate, as Preusz has
-pointed out, ancient Mexican pictures represent two deities engaged,
-apparently, in the act of kissing while (perhaps in reminiscence
-also of the blood-soul) red smoke passes from the mouth of the one
-to that of the other. Moreover, it may well be that this exchange of
-souls in the kiss has its analogue in many regions, particularly in
-Melanesia, in the exchange of breath through the nose--the so-called
-nose-greeting which might therefore better be called the nose-kiss.
-That this exchange is mediated through the nose may be due to the fact
-that among many of these tribes kissing with the lips is impossible
-because of mouth-rings, lip-blocks, and other deformations, doubtless
-originally intended as means of magic. Similar ideas concerning the
-mouth and the nose, moreover, and their relation to the psyche, are
-suggested even by the Biblical history of the Creation, according to
-which God rouses Adam to life by breathing a soul into him through his
-nose. Through the mouth, man breathes out his soul; through the nose,
-he received it.
-
-Though the festival of initiation into manhood was once associated
-with magical acts of cult, as the above ceremony seems to show, the
-meaning of this magic has for the most part been lost to the memory
-of the natives. For this reason they generally regard the ceremonies,
-including that of striking out the teeth, as a means of testing the
-fortitude of the young men. This was doubtless a secondary motive
-even at a very early time, and when the magical significance dropped
-out, it remained as the sole purpose. Nevertheless, the character of
-these alleged tests is much too peculiar to be intelligible on the
-hypothesis that they were originally intended merely to arouse fear or
-pain. And so, in view of the widely prevalent use of fire as a means
-of lustration, we may be allowed to regard also the fire-test, which
-occupies a central place in these cult forms, as having originally been
-a means of magical purification.
-
-The second class of ceremonial festivals and cults, as above remarked,
-is associated with certain objective natural phenomena which exercise a
-decisive influence upon human life. The natural phenomena most likely
-to originate a cult, because representing the most important objects
-of desire and fear, are those connected with the need for food, with
-the growth of plants, and with the increase of animals, particularly
-the animals of the chase. For this reason _vegetation cults_ date back
-to the very beginnings of the totemic period. Very probably they
-originated in the desire for plant food. Under relatively primitive
-conditions there was seldom a lack of game, though there was probably
-a scarcity of the vegetables necessary to supplement the food derived
-from animals. For plants frequently suffer from unfavourable weather,
-whether it be from the heat of the sun and from drought, as in tropical
-and sub-tropical regions, or from deluging rains, as in the temperate
-zones. Our interpretation of vegetation cults is supported particularly
-by the conditions prevailing in the original home of totemism,
-Australia. These cults here occur chiefly in the northern districts,
-into which there were early Melanesian immigrations; towards the south,
-they have gained but a relatively small foothold. The more northerly
-regions, as we have seen, are the very ones in which plant totems also
-are numerous, whereas they are lacking in the south. The cults of which
-we have been speaking are called _Intichiuma ceremonies_--an expression
-of Australian derivation. These ceremonies, moreover, involve the
-magical use of churingas, the Australian fetishes.
-
-The character of these vegetation festivals is always very much the
-same. They include dances, in which, in essential distinction from
-those of the initiation ceremonies, women are generally allowed to
-participate; their central feature consists of specific magical acts
-designed to effect an increase of the food supply. In Australia,
-these acts, in part, take the form of ceremonies in which pieces of
-artificial animals are strewn about. We speak of them as artificial, of
-course, only from our own standpoint; to the Australian the material
-that is scattered represents an actual living being. Thus, for example,
-a heap of sand is moulded into the form of a large lizard, and, of
-this, various parts are thrown into the air by those who participate in
-the festival. The animal germs thus scattered are supposed to effect
-an increase in the animals of the lizard totem. These vegetation
-festivals, therefore, are also totem festivals, and their celebration
-has the secondary significance of a cult dedicated to the totem. The
-celebration connected with a fish totem is similar to the above,
-though somewhat more complicated. A member of the clan, whose arms or
-other parts of the body have been bored through with bone daggers,
-descends into the water and allows his blood to mingle with it. The
-totem germs that are to bring about an increase in fish are supposed to
-emanate from the blood.
-
-In the case of plant totems, the cults are of a simpler nature. The
-plants themselves, or sometimes their seeds, which, moreover, also
-serve directly as food, are strewn to the winds. The grass-seed totem,
-for example, is particularly common in Australia. The seeds of the
-Australian grasses are gathered in large quantities and constitute
-an important part of the vegetable food. Thrown into the air, they
-are supposed to bring about an increased supply of these grasses.
-Externally regarded, this magical ceremony, primitive as it is,
-completely represents an act of sowing. It would be incorrect, however,
-as yet to speak of it as such, in the sense of the later tiller of the
-soil; the significance of the ceremony is purely magical. An age which
-merely gathers wild seeds and fruits does not prepare the soil in the
-way that sowing presupposes. Nevertheless, the magical cult involves
-an act which later forms an important part of agricultural tasks.
-Indeed, it is not at all improbable that these magical ceremonies,
-which in any event already involve the recognition that the strewing
-of seed conditions the increase of plants, have elsewhere constituted
-a preparatory step to the development of agriculture. In general it
-may be said that the ceremony probably originated in connection with
-plant totems, where the idea of such an increase is very especially
-apt to suggest itself; doubtless it was only later connected, through
-a process of external association, with animal totems. In harmony with
-such a view is the fact that Intichiuma festivals are chiefly prevalent
-in the regions of plant totemism.
-
-The vegetation cults which preceded the rise of agriculture were
-finally superseded by _true cults of the soil_. The latter presuppose
-the preparation of the soil by the efforts of man. This is clear from
-the fact that they occur more regularly, and at definite seasons of
-the year; moreover, they are of a more complex character, serving in
-part a number of other purposes. Typical of the transition are the
-vegetation festivals of the natives of Central America. These festivals
-are unique in that they embody elements of celestial mythology; thus
-they constitute important transitional stages between the demon cults
-of the totemic era and deity cults. The relation which the seeds are
-supposed to bear to the sprouts of the various grains is now no longer
-merely of a magical nature. The hoe-culture, to which the American
-Indian has attained, has taught him the dependence of the growth of
-plants upon the act of sowing. But here also there can be no cult
-until there is community labour. The original hoe-culture carried on
-by the individual about his hut no more tends to originate a cult than
-does the erection of the hut, the weaving of baskets, or the other
-tasks set by the needs of daily life. Individuals, however, frequently
-till the soil even prior to the rise of systematic agriculture, as
-occurs in certain regions of Melanesia, among the prairie peoples of
-North America, and elsewhere. Besides leading to more advanced ideas
-concerning the processes of germination and growth, these beginnings
-of agriculture, which still form part of the household duties of
-individuals, serve to engender what proves to be a permanent and basal
-factor in all further development--namely, _provision for the future_.
-However primitive may be the hoe-culture which the individual carries
-on about his hut, it is not concerned exclusively with the immediate
-present, as is the mere gathering of food, but it aims to satisfy a
-future need. True, even in this case, the beginnings may be traced back
-to the preceding age. Even such ceremonies as the Intichiuma festivals,
-in which the totems are strewn about in order magically to influence
-their growth and increase, are already thoroughly inspired by a regard
-for the future. Perhaps all human action concerned with the distant
-future was at first magical in aim.
-
-The establishment of a cult, however, is due not merely to the
-foresight which provides for a future harvest by the tilling of the
-soil; it is conditioned also by a second factor--namely, _community
-labour_. Just as entrance into manhood gives rise to initiation
-cults only when it becomes of tribal importance, precisely so is the
-development of cults of the soil dependent upon the association of
-members of a tribe or a mark in common labour. Moreover, initiation
-into manhood early came to be of common concern because of the
-community life of age-associates and of the need for military training
-created by tribal warfare; the same is true, though at a later stage
-and, of course, for essentially different reasons, of the tilling of
-the soil. The most important factor in the latter case is the fact that
-because the natural conditions are common to all, all are obliged to
-select the same time both for the sowing and later for the harvest.
-This is of little moment so long as the population is sparse and the
-property of one individual is separated from that of the others by
-wide stretches of uncultivated land. The more closely the members of
-the mark live together, however, the more do they share in common
-labour. Whenever a migrating tribe takes possession of a new territory,
-moreover, there is a further decisive consideration, namely, the fact
-that at the outset the soil is common property. In this case, not
-merely the natural conditions, but also the very ground on which the
-work of the field is performed, is identical for all the members of a
-mark. Added to this objective factor there more and more comes to be
-one of a subjective nature. In common labour, the individual determines
-his activities by reference to a common end; moreover, he regulates
-these activities, as to rhythm, tempo, and the accompanying expressive
-movements, so as to conform to the group in which he finds himself.
-Since, moreover, the activity of sowing and the subsequent growth of
-the crop preserve the magical character acquired in an earlier period,
-the work itself comes to be a cult activity. Just as initiation rites
-are not merely a declaration of manhood but a cult, designed magically
-to equip the novice with manly power and fortitude, so the tilling of
-the soil becomes a cult act through whose inherent magical power the
-prosperity of the crop is supposed to be secured. There are two factors
-which are of prime importance for the beginning of agricultural cults,
-and which give to their further development its peculiar stamp. In
-the first place, the labour whose performance in common engenders the
-cults of the soil is always connected with _hoe-culture_, the initial
-stage of agriculture. It is only because they work with the hoe that
-the members of the mark come into such close relations that they easily
-fuse into a cult community. When the plough, which is drawn by an
-animal, comes into use, the individuals are again separated. For the
-field which is tilled is larger, and, furthermore, the activity of the
-ploughman is confined to the guidance of his animals and implements,
-so that he personally is no longer directly concerned with the soil as
-in the case of hoe-culture. Moreover, since hoe-culture demands a very
-much greater expenditure of human energy, it arouses stronger emotions.
-The plough trains to reflection and brooding; the hoe stirs violent
-emotions. Furthermore, it is only when hoe-culture becomes common
-labour on a common field that the sexes are brought together. The
-early hoe-culture carried on about the hut of the individual generally
-devolves upon the woman alone, who thus merely continues the duty of
-food-getting which rested with her, as the gatherer of food, under
-still more primitive economic conditions. With the appearance of more
-intensive hoe-culture the labour is divided. Man cuts up and loosens
-the soil with his hoe; woman follows after, strewing the seed between
-the clods. With the invention of the plough, agriculture finally
-becomes the exclusive concern of man. The furrowing and loosening of
-the soil is now done by means of an implement, and man, freed from this
-labour, assumes the duty of strewing the seed.
-
-This twofold community of labour, that on the part of the holders of
-common property and that of the two sexes, undoubtedly underlies the
-peculiar character which the cults of the soil continue to preserve
-long after the period of their origin. On the one hand, the work of the
-field itself assumes the character of a cult act; combined with it, on
-the other hand, there come to be additional ceremonies. That which
-brings the men and women together and converts the labour into a cult
-act is primarily the dance. The fertilization and growth of plants are
-regarded as processes resembling the procreation of man. When the cult
-members give themselves up to ecstatic and orgiastic dances, therefore,
-they believe that they are magically influencing the sprouting and
-growth of the seeds. According to their belief, sprouting and growth
-are due to the demons of the soil. These demons the orgiastic cult
-arouses to heightened activity, just as the labourers and dancers
-mutually excite one another to increased efforts. In this ecstasy of
-the cult, man feels himself one with external nature. His own activity
-and the processes of nature become for him one and the same magical
-potency. In addition to the terrestrial demons of growth, there are the
-celestial demons, who send fructifying rains from the clouds to the
-soil. Particularly in regions such as New Mexico and Arizona, where a
-successful harvest depends in large measure upon the alternation of
-rains with the withering heat of the sun, these vegetation festivals
-are combined with elements of celestial cults. The latter, of course,
-are also essentially demon cults, yet they everywhere exhibit distinct
-traces of a transition into deity cults. Particularly typical are the
-cults of the Zuni and Hopi, described in detail by various American
-scholars. The direction of these cult festivals is vested in a body
-of rain-priests, in conjunction with other associations of priests,
-named for the most part after animals, and with secret societies. In
-the vegetation ceremonies of the Hopi, the members of the rain-group,
-naked and with faces masked to represent clouds, parade through a
-neighbouring village and thence to the festival place. In their
-procession through the village, the women throw water over them from
-the windows of the houses. This is a magical ceremony intended to
-secure the blessings of rain upon the crops. The investigations of W.
-Mannhardt concerning the field cults of ancient and more recent times
-have shown that survivals of such conceptions are still present in the
-sowing and harvest usages of modern Europe. Mannhardt's collection of
-customs deals particularly with East Prussia and Lithuania. In these
-localities it is customary for the maid-servants to return from the
-harvest earlier than the men, and to drench the latter with water as
-they enter the house. Though this custom has become a mere form of
-play, it nevertheless still vividly recalls the very serious magical
-ceremonies of earlier vegetation cults. But over and above this change
-from the serious to the playful, of which there are beginnings even in
-the festival celebrations of early cultural peoples, there is still
-another important difference between the earliest vegetation cults and
-their later recrudescences. The former are connected particularly with
-_sowing_, the latter primarily with the _harvest_. This again reflects
-the difference between hoe-culture and plough-culture. Hoe-culture
-unites the members of the mark in the activity of sowing, whereas
-labour with the plough separates them and imposes the work exclusively
-on the men. Harvesting the grain, on the other hand, long continues
-to remain a task in which individuals work in groups, women and men
-together. Moreover, as the magical beliefs associated with the activity
-of sowing gradually disappear, their place is taken by joy over the
-assured harvest. This also factors towards changing the time of the
-main festival from the beginning to the end of the season.
-
-Since both earth and heaven must co-operate if the sowing is to
-be propitious and the harvest bountiful, vegetation festivals are
-intermediate between demon cults and celestial cults. In respect
-to origin, they belong to the former; in the degree in which more
-adequate conceptions of nature are attained, they give rise to the
-latter. In many cases, moreover, elements of ancestor cult still
-exercise an influence towards bringing about this transition. The
-cloud that bestows rain and blessing is regarded as dependent upon
-a controlling will. Back of the clouds, therefore, according to the
-ideas of the Zuni and other Pueblo tribes, dwell the ancestors. The
-prayer of the priests to the clouds is also a prayer to the ancestors
-for protection and aid. The procession of the rain-priesthood through
-the village is a representation of the ancestors who are hidden
-behind the mask of clouds, and is supposed to exercise a magical
-influence. These cult festivals also include invocations to the sun,
-whose assistance is likewise necessary to the prosperity of the crop.
-Thus, in the ceremonial customs of the Navajos, who occupy the same
-territory, the yellow sand that covers the festival place represents
-the coloured expanse of the rainbow, the sun, and the moon. All the
-heavenly forces are to co-operate in bringing about the ripening of
-the harvest. In this wise it is possible to trace an advance, stage
-by stage, from the cults of terrestrial demons, who dwell within the
-growing grain itself, to celestial cults. The fact that the aid of
-the heavens is indispensable draws the attention upwards. If, now,
-there are other causes such as give rise to the idea of a celestial
-migration of the souls of departed ancestors, the cloud demons become
-merged with ancestor spirits, and there are combined with them the
-supra-terrestrial powers that are conceived as inherent in the other
-celestial phenomena.
-
-It is due to this synthesis of vegetation cults with celestial cults
-that these festivals, which are the most highly developed of any in the
-totemic age, continue to become more and more complex. They gradually
-incorporate other cults in so far as these are not associated with
-specific, undeferable circumstances, as are the death cults. Among the
-Zuni and Navajos, the most important ceremony thus incorporated into
-these festivals is the initiation of youths into manhood and their
-subsequent reception into the community of men. There are analogous
-ceremonies for the women. In this complex of cult elements, the
-emphasis more and more falls on the celestial phenomena, of which the
-more important force themselves upon the observation and therefore
-determine the time at which these festivals are held. Instead of at
-seedtime and harvest, which vary somewhat with weather conditions,
-the two main festivals are held at fixed dates corresponding to the
-summer and winter solstices. Thus, the cults become independent of
-variable circumstances. All the more are they able to assimilate
-other cults. Among the Zuni, for example, there is a ceremony which,
-though analogous to the declaration of manhood, is not held at the
-time when the youths reach manhood or the maidens arrive at the age
-of puberty, but occurs much earlier, and signifies reception into the
-cult community. This first consecration, which might be compared to
-our baptism, does not take place immediately after birth, but when the
-child is four or five years of age. Following upon this consecration,
-in the course of the same festival, comes the celebration of the
-adulthood of fully matured youths and maidens, set for the fourteenth
-or fifteenth year of life. In this ceremony the youths and maidens are
-beaten with consecrated rods. The present generation, which has no
-knowledge concerning the origin of this practice, generally regards
-these blows as a test of hardihood and courage. But the fact that
-specially consecrated rods are used by the priests shows unmistakably
-that their original purpose was to exercise a magical influence upon
-those who were being initiated. Indeed, the fact that many adults crowd
-in to receive some of the blows, in the belief that these possess
-a protective influence, proves that the original meaning of the
-ceremony has maintained itself to a certain extent even down to the
-present. In addition to these features of the cult-celebration, which
-are connected in general with the tribal or mark community as such,
-there are other ceremonies that are designed for the satisfaction of
-the wants of individuals. Sick persons drag themselves painfully to
-the festival, or are brought to it by their relatives, in search of
-healing. In America, the desire for magical healing has very commonly
-given rise to so-called sweat-lodges, which are located near the
-festival places. These lodges serve a twofold purpose. The primary aim
-of the sweat cure is to expel sickness demons. But healthy persons also
-subject themselves to the treatment. In this case the sole purpose of
-the sweating is obviously that of lustration. Just as we ourselves
-occasionally experience relief from the flow of perspiration, so also
-may the one who has passed through the ceremony of the sweat-lodge feel
-himself reborn, as it were. This would tend to strengthen the naturally
-suggested association between this ceremony and lustration by water.
-The ceremony, therefore, serves the same purpose as the other forms
-of lustration. The individual wishes either to purify himself from a
-guilt which he has incurred, or, if there is no particular element of
-guilt, to protect himself against future impurities. The custom thus
-acquires the significance of a sanctification ceremony, similar to
-baptism or to the bath of the Brahman. Because of the combination of
-these various cult motives and cult forms, the cult association which
-unites in the performance of the vegetation festivals comes to be the
-representative of the cult, as well as of the belief, of the tribal
-community in general. This likewise prepares the way for the transition
-from totemic to deity cults, as is indicated, among other things, by
-the sacrificial activities of these cult festivals. Sacrifice itself,
-as has already been mentioned, probably originated as sacrifice to the
-dead. Its further development occurs primarily in connection with the
-higher forms of vegetation cults. The Zuni and Navajos erect altars for
-their festivals. These they adorn with gaily coloured cloths and with
-the gorgeous plumage of birds. On them they place the plants and grains
-which the cult is designed to prosper. This is the typical form of the
-vegetable sacrifice as it passes on from these early practices into all
-higher cults. The sacrifice consists in offering the particular plants
-and grains whose increase is desired. At the outset, its character is
-exclusively magical; it is not a gift to the deity. Just as rain-magic
-is supposed to result from drenching the rain-association with water,
-so this offering of grains is held to have a magic effect upon the
-prosperity of the same sorts of grains. There is no indication or
-suggestion that the sacrifice represents an offering to the gods. This
-idea arises only later, when the magical sacrifice of grains, as well
-as that of animals, is connected with a further conception whose origin
-is apparently also to be found in sacrifice to the dead. The dead
-are presented with gifts, which they carry along into a world beyond.
-Similarly, the magical sacrifice connected with vegetation festivals
-and their associated cults more and more ceases to be regarded as
-purely magical in nature and comes to be an offering to the deity whose
-favour is thereby sought.
-
-Coincident with these changes in sacrificial usages, the cult
-community which develops in the course of the transitional stages
-of cult--the best representatives are the semi-cultural peoples of
-America--undergoes a more thorough organization. Separate associations
-are formed within the wider circle of cult membership. These severally
-assume the various functions involved in the cult; as a rule, they
-are under the guidance of priests. Even apart from their connection
-with these cult festivals, the priests serve as magic-priests and
-magic-doctors, and it is they who preserve the traditions of the
-general cult ceremonies as well as of the means requisite on the part
-of the individual for the exercise of this twofold profession. This
-represents the typical figure of the _medicine-man_. He is to be found
-even in primitive culture, but his function more and more changes
-from that of the ordinary magician into that of the priest. As such,
-he attains to a position of authority that is publicly acknowledged
-and protected. Associated with him is a restricted group of those
-cult members who are most familiar with the secrets of the cult, and
-are his immediate assistants in the festal ceremonies. It is these
-individuals that compose the _secret societies_. These societies
-occur even among the tribes of the northern parts of America, and
-have their analogues particularly on the semi-cultural level which
-forms the threshold of the totemic age. Presumably they derive from
-the more primitive institution of men's clubs, within which the male
-members of a clan are united into age-groups. Membership in secret
-societies also continues to be limited to men, more especially to
-such as have reached a mature age. As tribal organization developed,
-and particularly as family bonds became firmer, age associations were
-dissolved. The association which originally included all men gave way
-to more restricted societies. Besides this numerical limitation, there
-was naturally also a qualitative restriction. In the first place, those
-who thus deliberately segregated themselves from the total body were
-the privileged members of the tribal community, or at least such as
-laid claim to special prerogatives; these associations, furthermore,
-were formed for certain more specialized purposes connected with the
-particular needs of their members. The first of these considerations
-accounts for the respect, occasionally mingled with fear or reverence,
-which was accorded to these societies, a respect which was heightened
-by the secrecy in which they shrouded themselves. The fact that
-certain customs and traditions were surrounded with secrecy caused
-every such association to be organized into various ranks, graded
-according to the extent with which the individuals were familiar with
-the secret doctrines. This type of organization occurs as early as
-the associations of medicine-men among the Africans and the American
-Indians; later, it is to be found in connection with the Eleusynian
-and Orphic mysteries; it is represented also by the Christian and
-Buddhistic orders, and by their various secular counterparts, such as
-the Rosicrucians and the Freemasons. Not infrequently these societies,
-in contradiction to their secrecy, have special emblems indicative of
-membership and of rank. Among the American Indians, this purpose is
-generally served by special drawings on the body; in other places, by
-specific tattooings as well as by the wearing of distinctive dress.
-The second restriction of membership on the part of the secret society
-is connected with the limited purpose which the society serves. The
-men's club includes all the interests of the clan or tribal community;
-the secret society is held together by a specific aim or by a limited
-circle of related tasks. Here also it is universally true that these
-tasks are connected with _cult_, and are thus of a religious nature.
-Even the Greek phratries underwent a change of purpose analogous to
-that which occurred in the transition from the age-group to the secret
-society, for, after losing their earlier political significance, they
-continued to exist as cultural associations.
-
-The men's group belongs exclusively to the totemic age. Secret
-societies, however, are organizations which, together with the cults
-that they maintain, belong to a stage transitional between totemic and
-deity cults. The emblems worn by the cult members are for the most part
-totemic; totemic also are the cult usages, and likewise, particularly
-among the American Indians, the name which the group adopts. The
-feathers of birds and the hides of other totem animals--the same as
-those which also adorn the festival altars--constitute a chief part of
-the dress. In addition to the general tribal festival in which they
-co-operate, these societies also maintain their special cults. It is
-particularly in these latter cults that ancient totemic survivals are
-in evidence. A remarkable example of such a totem group is the snake
-society of the Hopi Indians, who dwell, as do the Zuni and Navajos,
-in the regions of New Mexico. The totem animal of this society is
-the rattlesnake. In the snake festival, a procession is formed in
-which every member participates; each carries a rattlesnake in his
-mouth, holding it in his teeth directly back of its head. It is firmly
-believed that no snake will kill a member of the society which holds
-it sacred. Of course, as observers of the festival have noticed, an
-ingenious expedient is employed to avert the danger. Each snake-bearer
-is followed by an associate who diverts the attention of the snake by
-continually tickling its tail with a small stick. If a snake-bearer is
-bitten, as rarely occurs, his companion always sucks out the wound,
-by which act, as is well known, the snake-bite is rendered relatively
-innocuous.
-
-
-
-15. THE ART OF THE TOTEMIC AGE.
-
-
-The most prominent of the artistic activities of the totemic age
-is _formative art_. In this field, the lowest stages of totemic
-development show little advance beyond the achievements of primitive
-man. True, even Australia possesses cave drawings which, perhaps have
-some sort of cult significance. As yet, however, we have not succeeded
-in interpreting these drawings. With this exception, the formative art
-of the totemic period is limited to carvings upon weapons or other
-implements--obviously thought, just as in primitive times, to possess
-magical potencies--and to the painting of the face on the occasion of
-cult festivals.
-
-In the regions of Oceania, particularly the Polynesian Islands, we find
-a far richer development of that form of pictorial art which aims at
-the adornment of the body, or, as we ought rather to say with reference
-to the beginnings of this artistic practice, at the exercise on the
-part of the body of a magical influence upon external things. Polynesia
-is the chief centre of _artistic tattooing_. Throughout these regions
-this practice has universally taken the form of prick tattooing. By
-means of separate, close-lying prick points filled with colour, various
-symmetrical designs are formed. This tattooing is the only art whose
-highest perfection is reached at the beginning of culture. As soon as
-clothing appears, the decoration of the body itself gives way to that
-of dress. On particular occasions, as, for example, in connection with
-certain cult practices of the American Indians, custom may continue
-to demand entire nakedness. Under these circumstances, there is a
-sort of retrogressive development in which the painting necessitated
-by the festivals takes the place of tattooing. This occurs even among
-the Australians. Moreover, even after clothing has appeared, it long
-remains a favourite custom to tattoo certain exposed parts of the skin,
-particularly the face and the arms and hands. Even to-day, indeed, the
-arms are sometimes tattooed. The fact that tattooing is now practised
-almost exclusively by criminals and prostitutes, and, occasionally,
-by sailors, finds its explanation in a circumstance which was also of
-influence at the time when tattooing was in its first flower, namely,
-in the interruption of occupational activity by long periods of leisure.
-
-There is an additional factor which obviously favours the development
-of the art of tattooing, particularly in the territory of the
-Polynesian Islands. I refer to the combination of totemism with
-celestial mythology, which is peculiar to these peoples, and to
-the consequent recedence of totemism. Particularly illuminative as
-regards this point is the tattooing of the Maoris. The mythology of
-this people gives an important place to the sun, and their bodily
-decorations frequently include pictures of this celestial body, in
-the form of spiral ornamentations. Some two years ago travelling
-investigators brought back copies of the tattooing of other islanders,
-particularly those of the Marquesas group. These tattoo-patterns
-contain many significant elements of a celestial mythology; those
-of to-day, however, in so far as the custom has not been entirely
-effaced by the Europeans, consist almost entirely of simple geometrical
-ornamentations. The tattooings of early times frequently included
-also representations of animals. Plants were less common, as might
-be expected from the fact that it was only later that they acquired
-importance for totemic cults. At the same time, it is evident that a
-sort of reversal took place as regards the pictorial representation of
-objects. This is even more striking in the tattooing of the American
-Indians, a tattooing restricted to certain parts of the body. In the
-preceding chapter the fact has already been noted that, among the
-primitive peoples of the pretotemic age, as, for example, the Semangs
-and Senoi of Malacca, the multiplication of simple parallel lines,
-triangles, arcs, etc., gives rise to plant-like and animal-like forms.
-Doubtless the primitive artist himself discovers such figures in his
-drawings and then sometimes consciously sets about to imitate more
-closely the actual forms of the natural objects. At the stage of
-development now under discussion, we find, conversely, that animal
-forms, particularly, are retranslated into geometrical objects in
-that they become, as we would to-day express it, more and more
-conventionalized. Since only the simplest outlines of the objects
-are retained, it may eventually become a matter of doubt whether
-these really are schematic representations of natural objects, and
-whether they are not, even from the very beginning, geometrical
-ornamentations. Nevertheless the fact that there are continuous
-transitions from the developed animal form to the geometrical ornament,
-as occurs particularly in America, is incontrovertible proof that such
-a conventionalization took place, though in many cases, doubtless,
-very slowly. This process of conventionalization, however, may be more
-clearly traced in connection with a different art, one that is related
-to tattooing but whose development is not limited, as is that of the
-latter, and destined from the very outset to become obsolete. I refer
-to _ceramics_, the art of decorating the vessels which were at first
-intended for the preservation, and later for the preparation, of food.
-
-Even though the art of making pottery is not to be found in primitive
-culture proper, it nevertheless dates back to a very early age. It is
-not impossible that this age coincides approximately with the beginning
-of the totemic period. At any rate, it was totemic cult which, from
-earliest times on, furnished the motives for the decoration or--as is
-here also doubtless generally true of the early beginnings--for the
-magical protection of the vessels, or for the imparting of magical
-potencies to their contents. Doubtless the clay vessel was originally
-modelled partly after the natural objects that were used for storing
-food, and partly after the woven basket. The latter, in turn, may, in
-its beginnings, have been copied from the bird's nest. When it was
-discovered, probably accidentally, that clay is hardened by fire, the
-clay vessel came to be used not merely for the preservation of food
-but also for its preparation by means of fire. Or, perhaps it would
-be truer to say that the attempt to accomplish this latter purpose
-with the unhardened clay vessel led to the art of baking clay. Now,
-even before the art of making pottery was known, implements, weapons,
-women's combs, and even the body itself were marked with simple and
-regular linear drawings to which a magical significance was attached.
-These geometrical forms, which arose semi-accidentally, were, even from
-very early times, apperceived as the outlines of animal or plant forms,
-and it was under the influence of these ideas that they attained a
-further development. Precisely the same process was repeated in the
-case of ceramics, only, as it were, upon a broader scale, challenging a
-richer play of imagination. It is precisely here, however, particularly
-in the ceramics of the American Indians, that we can trace the
-ascending and the descending developments of primitive linear drawings,
-first into completely developed animal designs with meagre suggestions
-of attempts at plant ornamentation, and then regressively, through a
-continued conventionalization, into purely geometrical figures. At the
-same time, it was ceramics, especially, that developed a combination
-of these two designs, the systematic arrangement of which marks
-the perfection of this art. Thus arose representations of natural
-objects framed in by geometrical ornamentations. In this respect
-also, tattooing furnished a preparation, even though imperfectly, for
-ceramics. In inner significance, moreover, the latter was a direct
-outgrowth of the former. By tattooing, man originally guarded his own
-person with protective magic; in ceramics, this magic was brought into
-connection with man's utensils, with the food necessary for his life,
-and with its preparation. In ceramics, therefore, just as in tattooing,
-the animals represented were at first primarily _totem animals_. Among
-them we find particularly snakes, fish, and birds, and, in America, the
-alligator. Especially characteristic of the totemic age is the fact
-that the decorations scarcely ever include the representation of the
-_human figure_. It is by this mark that the art products, even of the
-earliest age of Greece, may be distinguished at first glance from those
-of totemic culture. In the former case, the human figure is introduced,
-either along with that of the animal or even alone; in the latter case,
-only animal representations occur. Strange to say, it is in only _one_
-respect that the ceramics, more particularly of the American Indians,
-copy man--the vessel as a whole represents a head or a skull. Doubtless
-this is connected with the obnoxious custom of head-hunting. Just as
-the Indian adorns the roof of his hut with the heads of his conquered
-foes, so he perpetuates the memory of his feats of war in his ceramic
-objects. No portrayal of activities in which human beings participate,
-is to be found in the totemic age.
-
-Connected with this, no doubt, is the lack of any real _sculpture_,
-with the exception of crude idols representing animal or human forms.
-These idols, on the whole, are of the nature of fetishes, and as such
-may, of course, be regarded as the precursors of the divine images of
-a later period. As there is no sculpture, so also is there, strictly
-speaking, no _architecture_. In this respect, again, there is a wide
-difference between this age and the succeeding one. In its higher
-forms, architecture presupposes gods who are worshipped in a temple.
-In the totemic period, however, there are no temples. True, the
-Australian preserves his magic wands and pieces of wood, the churingas,
-in caves or huts, but the latter differ in no wise from other huts. In
-the totemic age, therefore, man alone has a dwelling-place. Of such
-structures there are, in general, _two_ types, the _conical_ and the
-_spherical_. The conical hut apparently had its origin in the tent.
-The rounded or beehive hut, as it has been called in Africa, may
-originally have been copied from a natural cave built in the sand. The
-two forms, moreover, are not always mutually exclusive. In winter,
-for example, the Esquimo of Behring Strait lives in a round hut made
-of snow; in summer, he pitches a tent. In Melanesia, Polynesia, and
-other regions, the erection of dwelling-places on the seashore or
-on the shores of large rivers led to the _pole-hut_, a modification
-which came to resemble the houses of later times. This hut, which is
-generally occupied jointly by several families, is erected on poles
-that are firmly driven into the ground and reach far up into the air.
-Such a pole-hut, even at this early age, develops the typical form
-of a commodious dwelling. One of the factors here operative is the
-institution of men's clubs, which is prevalent in these regions: the
-necessity that many individuals live together leads to the erection
-of buildings of considerable size. In this connection, we note a
-characteristic difference between the beginnings of architectonic
-art and that of the other arts. The latter, whether in the case of
-tattooing, ceramics, or the fetishistic precursors of sculpture,
-always originate in mythological and, primarily, in magical motives;
-the sole impetus to architecture is furnished by the immediate needs
-of practical life. Thus, then, it is not to religious impulses but to
-the social conditions which require that many individuals shall live
-together, that we must trace a more perfected technique of building
-than that of primitive times.
-
-Much more nearly parallel to the development of the other forms of
-art is that of the _musical arts_, meaning by this all those arts
-which consist in the direct activity of man himself. The musical
-arts include the dance, poetry, and music, as well as the various
-combinations into which these enter with one another. Since it is
-the third of these arts, music, that manifests a particular tendency
-to combine with and to supplement the other two, all three may be
-comprehended under its name. This will also serve to suggest the fact
-that, just as the formative arts are closely related in that they give
-objective embodiment to the creations of the imagination, so also are
-the musical arts allied by virtue of their reliance on subjective
-expression. Of all these various arts, the _dance_ preserves the
-closest connection with the more primitive age. In the cult dance of
-the totemic period, however, the dance receives an extraordinarily
-rich development, reaching a stage of perfection comparable to that
-to which formative art attains in the external adornment of the
-body--that is, in tattooing. The dance and tattooing, indeed, are
-closely related, since nowhere else is the _personal body_ so directly
-the object and the means of artistic activity. To the dances of the
-primitive period, however, the totemic dance adds _one_ external
-feature--the _mask_--whose origin is directly due to totem belief.
-Even the Australians, of course, are not familiar with the mask-dance.
-They sometimes paint the face or mark it with single lines, and this
-may be regarded as the precursor of the mask; the mask itself however
-appears only in the later development of totemism, and continues far
-into the succeeding age. Moreover, as regards its distribution, there
-are considerable differences. It plays its most important role in
-American and Polynesian regions, a less prominent one in Africa. In
-America, the mask-dance and the elevation of masks into cult objects,
-to which the mask-dance occasionally gives rise, extend from the
-Esquimos of the north far down to the south. Koch-Gruenberg has given
-a clear picture of the mask-dances and the mask-cult of the natives
-of the Brazilian forests. Here the masks are not a secondary means of
-magic, as it were--much less an occasional object of adornment. Every
-mask is a sort of sacred object. When the youth attains to manhood, he
-receives a mask, which is sacred to him throughout his entire life.
-After the great cult festivals, which are celebrated with mask-dances,
-the masks are carefully preserved. In the mask there is supposed to
-reside the demon who is represented by it, and the fear of the demon is
-transferred to the mask. The dancing of this period consists primarily
-of the animal dance, which is a rhythmic imitation, often wonderfully
-skilful, of the movements of an animal. The mask also, therefore,
-always represents, in a more or less altered or grotesquely exaggerated
-form, an animal's head, or a being intermediate between animal and
-man, thus vividly calling to mind certain totemic legends whose heroes
-are sometimes animals and sometimes human beings. On the more advanced
-stages of totemic culture, there are also masks representing objects
-of external nature. Mention has already been made of the cloud masks
-used in the vegetation festivals of the Hopi and Zuni. The rain-priests
-of these tribes, with these masks on their heads and with pictures of
-zigzag lightning on their garments, are the living representatives of
-storm demons. Thus, the mask imparts to its wearer the character of
-the demon represented by it. The characteristics of face-masks, such
-as enormous beards and teeth, huge eyes, noses, etc., cause them,
-particularly, to be the living embodiments of the fear of demons, and
-thus to be themselves regarded as demoniacal beings. Whatever may be
-their more specific nature, whether, for example, they represent
-demons of sickness or of fertility, they always present the same
-fear-inspiring features. A certain diversity of expression is much more
-likely to come as a result of the external character of the dance in
-which the masks are used. This may give rise to expressions portraying
-surprise and astonishment, or the more lively emotions of fear,
-terror, or exalted joy. In the latter case, we must bear in mind that
-representations of grinning laughter differ in but a few characteristic
-marks from those of violent weeping.
-
-Corresponding to these differences in the character of the masks
-that are worn, are _two_ main forms of the dance, particularly of
-the cult dance. The first of these is the _ceremonial dance_, which
-moves in slow and solemn rhythm. This is the dance that generally
-inaugurates the great cult festivals of the semi-cultural peoples
-of totemism or that accompanies certain of the chief features of
-the festival--such, for example, as the entrance and procession of
-the cloud-masked ancestral spirits in the vegetation festivals of
-New Mexico. Contrasting with the ceremonial dance are the _ecstatic
-dances_, which for the most part form the climax of the festival.
-Only the men are allowed to take part in the ceremonial dances, and
-the same is generally true also of the ecstatic dances. The women,
-if not altogether excluded from the ceremonies, are either silent
-witnesses or accompany the dance with songs or screams. It is only in
-the more extreme form of the ecstatic-orgiastic dance that both sexes
-participate. The mixed dances probably arose in connection with the
-vegetation festivals, as a result of the relation which was thought to
-exist between the sexual emotions and the creative forces of nature.
-It was doubtless because of this late origin that the Greeks long
-continued to regard the dances of the Dionysian festivals, which were
-borrowed from Oriental cults and executed by women alone or by women
-and men together, as in part a degeneration of good custom. In the
-drama, whose origin was the mimetic dance, the role of women was taken
-by men.
-
-Closely connected with the dance is _music_, the preparatory stage of
-which is constituted by the participation of the voice in the rhythm
-of the external movements of the body. These articulatory movements,
-which form a part of the mimicking activity of the face, supplement the
-dynamic rhythm of the dance with the melodic rise and fall of tones.
-The emotion which finds its outlet in the dance itself, then seeks a
-further enhancement through objective means. These means also involve
-the activity of the bodily organs; noises are produced by clapping the
-hands, by stamping on the ground, or by the rhythmic clash of sticks.
-In the latter case, the transition from instruments of noise to those
-of tone is easily made. The earliest forms of tone instruments are of
-two sorts, according as they copy the production of sound by external
-means, on the one hand, or by the vocal organs, in the accompanying
-tones, on the other. Thus, the two original forms of musical
-instruments are _instruments of concussion_ and _wind instruments_. In
-origin, these are directly connected with the dance. They are natural
-means of intensification created directly by the emotion, though later
-modified by systematic invention. The later development of musical art
-continues to remain in close relation to the two main forms of the
-dance, the solemn ceremonial and the ecstatic dance, between which
-there come to be numerous transitions. From the most primitive to the
-highest stages of music, we continually find two sorts of musical
-expression, the _sustained_ and the _animated_. These correspond to the
-contrasting feelings of rest and excitement, which are experienced even
-by animals, and which man therefore doubtless carried with him from his
-natural state into his cultural life. With the progress of culture,
-these feelings constantly become more richly differentiated.
-
-The totemic age may be said to include only the first few advances
-beyond the simple emotions already expressed in the dance.
-Nevertheless, there are ethnological differences that register in a
-very characteristic way those specific musical talents of the various
-races which are obscured on higher levels of culture because of the
-increasing complexity of international relations. Thus, Africa is
-apparently the chief centre, if not the original home, of instruments
-of concussion and of the great variety of stringed instruments that
-develop from them. America, on the other hand, is the region in which
-wind instruments, in particular their original form, the flute, have
-attained their chief development. The flute of the American Indians is
-not, of course, like our own; it is blown, not with the lips, but with
-the mouth. It therefore resembles a shawm or a clarinet. As regards
-production of tone, however, it is a flute, for the tone is produced
-by the extension of one lip over the other in a manner similar to that
-of the flute-pipes of our organs. That which distinguishes the sound
-of the flute and of its shorter form, the fife, from that of stringed
-instruments is primarily the greater intensity and the longer duration
-of the tone. Corresponding to the difference in musical instruments
-is that of the noise instruments which characterize the two regions.
-Africa possesses the drum. This it employs not only for purposes of
-accompaniment in cult ceremonies, but also as a means of signalling,
-since it renders distant communication possible by use of the so-called
-drum-language. In America, we find the rattle. Though this, of course,
-is not entirely lacking in Africa, it nevertheless occurs primarily
-within the cultural realm of the North American Indians. Here it
-is employed as an instrument of noise and magic, similarly to the
-bull-roarer of the Australians. As between the rattle and the drum, the
-difference is again one of the longer duration of sound in the case of
-the American instrument.
-
-The tones produced by these early musical instruments, however, even
-those of the stringed instruments and their vocal accompaniment, by
-no means, of course, form harmonic music. On the contrary, harmony
-is an achievement of the succeeding age; it is here foreshadowed in
-only imperfect beginnings. Such beginnings, however, may everywhere be
-discerned in the records that we have of the melodies of the Soudan
-negroes and the American races. Nevertheless, most of the records that
-are as yet available are still of doubtful value. The auditor is too
-prone to find in them his own musical experiences. For reliable data
-we must wait until, following the beginnings that have already been
-made, a greater number of such natural songs will have been objectively
-recorded by the aid of the phonograph. As yet we can only say that,
-if we may judge from their musical instruments, the Africans surpass
-all other natural peoples in musical talent. Their melodies ordinarily
-move within the range of about an octave, whereas those of the North
-American Indians seldom pass beyond a sixth. The fact of this small
-tonal compass will itself indicate that the melody of all natural
-peoples tends to very constant rhythms and intervals. The latter,
-moreover, show some similarity to those with which we are familiar. The
-chief characteristic of these songs, however, is their tendency toward
-repetition. One and the same motive frequently recurs with tiresome
-monotony. The melodies thus reflect certain universal characteristics
-of primitive poetry as they appear in the songs of the Veddahs and of
-other pretotemic tribes.
-
-Nevertheless, the forms of _poetry_ exhibit an important advance over
-those of the more primitive peoples just mentioned. Particularly
-in the case of the _song_, we find that the simple expression of
-the moods directly aroused by nature is supplemented by a further
-important feature. This feature is closely bound up with that more
-lively bodily and mental activity of totemic culture which is reflected
-likewise in its use of implements and weapons. Karl Buecher was the
-first to point out that common labour gives rise to common songs,
-whose rhythm and melody are determined by the labour. The increasing
-diversity of the work results in a wider range of content and also
-in a richer differentiation of forms. Such _work-songs_ are to be
-found throughout the entire totemic era, whereas, of course, they are
-lacking in the preceding age, in which common labour scarcely exists.
-Contemporaneously with the work-song, the _cult-song_ makes its
-appearance. The latter is essentially conditioned by the development
-of totemic ceremonies. As these become more numerous, the cult-song
-likewise gradually grows richer and more manifold, in close reciprocal
-relations with the dance and music. In the case of the cult-song, as
-well as of the work-song, the above-mentioned repetition of motives
-comes to exercise an important influence on the accompanying activity.
-Though different causes are operative in the two cases, these causes
-nevertheless ultimately spring from a _single_ source--namely, the
-heightening of emotions. In the cult-song, man aims to bring his
-petitions and, as we may say for the earlier age, the magic which his
-words exercise, as forcibly as possible to the notice of the demons
-or, at a later period, of the gods whom he addresses. For this reason
-the same wish is repeated again and again. The most primitive form of
-cult-song generally consists of but a single wish repeated in rhythmic
-form. In the work-song, on the other hand, it is the constantly
-recurring rhythm of the work that leads directly to the repetition of
-the accompanying rhythmic and melodic motives. When one and the same
-external task becomes associated time and again with these accompanying
-songs, the two mutually reinforce each other. The song is a stimulus
-to the work, and the work heightens the emotion expressed in the song.
-Both results vary with the degree in which the song is adapted to
-the work and thus itself becomes a poetic representation of it. Here
-again neither plan nor purpose originally played the least part; the
-development was determined by the rhythmic and melodic motives immanent
-in the work.
-
-Several brief illustrations may serve to give us a clear picture of
-what has been said. The first is a cult-song of American origin. Again
-we turn to the cult usages of one of the tribes of New Mexico, the Sia.
-The motif of the song, which is rain-magic, furnishes the material
-for very many of the ceremonies of these regions. The song of the
-rain-priests is as follows:--
-
-  All ye fluttering clouds,
-  All ye clouds, cherish the fields,
-  All ye lightnings and thunders, rainbows and
-       cloud-peoples,
-  Come and labour for us.
-
-This song is repeated again and again without change of motif--it is a
-conjuration in the form of a song.
-
-The snake society of the Hopi, to which we have already referred, has
-a similar song, which it sings with musical accompaniment. It runs as
-follows:--
-
-  Oh, snake society of the North, come and labour for us,
-  Snake society of the South, of the West, snake society of the
-      Zenith and of the Nadir,
-  Come hither and labour for us.
-
-The fact that the snake societies of the Zenith and Nadir are invoked
-makes it clear that this song is not, as it were, an appeal addressed
-to other societies of human beings. There are, of course, none such
-at the Zenith or the Nadir. The song is obviously directed to a demon
-society conceived as similar to human cult associations. It petitions
-for assistance in the preparation of the field and for a successful
-harvest.
-
-The repetitions in such cases as these are always due to the fact
-that the songs are conjurations. Not so with the work-song. This is
-generally the expression of a greater diversity of motives, as is shown
-by the following lines taken from a song of the Maoris of New Zealand.
-The song is one which they sing while transporting trunks of trees to
-the coast:--
-
-  Give more room,
-  Joyous folk, give room for the totara,
-  Joyous folk,
-  Give me the maro.
-  *****************************
-  Slide on, slide on!
-  Slip along, slip along!
-  Joyous folk! etc.
-
-'Totara' and 'maro' are the names of trees that they have felled. In
-its rhythm and its repetitions, the song gives us a direct portrayal of
-the work itself.
-
-These song-forms are still entirely the product of external motives
-and never arise under the independent and immediate influence of
-subjective moods. Far superior to them is another field of literary
-composition, the _narrative_. The totemic age, particularly, has
-produced a great variety of forms of narrative. Predominant among these
-is the _maerchen-myth_, a narrative which resembles the fairy-tale and
-which, as a rule, continues during this period to be of the nature
-of a credited myth. It is a prose narrative circulated by word of
-mouth, in which manner it sometimes traverses wide regions. With
-occasional changes or in connection with different mythical ideas it
-may survive many generations. So far as these general characteristics
-are concerned, the maerchen, indeed, is the most permanent of all forms
-of literary composition. It extends from the most primitive levels
-of culture down to the present. In the form of the maerchen-myth,
-however, it is especially characteristic of the totemic age. We now
-possess numerous collections of such tales from the most diverse
-regions of totemic as well as of later civilizations. An Englishwoman,
-Mrs. Parker, has brought together a number of Australian tales, and
-these have been augmented in more recent times, particularly through
-the labours of the German missionary Strehlow. Strehlow has a great
-advantage over most of the other Australian investigators in being
-familiar with the languages of the tribes among whom he lives. Valuable
-material regarding America and Africa has been gathered particularly
-by American and English travellers; data, furthermore, are not lacking
-concerning the natural and cultural peoples of other parts of the
-earth. Moreover, comparative research has for some time past studied
-the maerchen with the primary purpose of determining to what localities
-the materials of the maerchen and the fable have spread, and thus,
-in turn, of learning the early cultural relations of peoples. This
-investigation of the maerchen, however, has, for the most part, suffered
-from a false preconception. The criterion by which we judge present-day
-tales of this sort was applied to maerchen-fiction in general. The
-maerchen-myths of primitive peoples, therefore, were regarded either
-as creations of individuals and as never having been credited, or, at
-best, as retrogressive forms of higher types of myth--particularly
-of nature myths--adapted to the needs of childlike comprehension.
-A closer investigation of the maerchen-myths of relatively primitive
-peoples has rendered this theory absolutely untenable. True,
-retrogressive forms occasionally occur in this as well as in most other
-sorts of myth and of literary composition. Nevertheless, there is no
-longer any room for doubt that, on the one hand, the earliest products
-of narrative composition were all of the nature of the maerchen, and
-that, on the other hand, most primitive maerchen-fictions were _credited
-myths_. An attempt to arrive at the sources of the most common motifs
-of the maerchen of different peoples and ages will reveal the fact that
-the majority of them must undoubtedly be traced to the totemic age.
-Such was the environment, certainly, in which the earliest narrative
-had its setting, particularly in so far as it was believed to report
-truths of history.
-
-The early myth narrative was of the general character of the maerchen
-primarily in that it was not, as a rule, restricted to a specific time
-or place. This also differentiates the folk maerchen of to-day from the
-saga. An occasional exception is offered by the anthropogenic legends
-of peoples of nature, although these also are in other respects of the
-nature of the maerchen. A second essential characteristic of the maerchen
-is the fact that magical agencies play a role in the determination of
-events. This is true even of present-day folk maerchen, and is due to
-the circumstance that the primitive maerchen arose in an age which was
-still entirely under the dominance of magical beliefs. These beliefs,
-which influenced all phases of the activity of primitive man, also
-caused the magical maerchen to be credited either in their entirety or
-at least in great part. All the narratives of this age, however, bear
-the characteristics of the maerchen, as these have just been indicated,
-or, at any rate, it is at most only occasionally, in the primitive
-legend, that they approximate to the saga. It follows, therefore, that
-the development of the myth in general begins with the maerchen-myth.
-Here also the development proceeds from below upwards, and not the
-reverse.
-
-But even though the beginnings of the maerchen-myth doubtless date
-back to primitive man, the flower of the development is undeniably
-to be found in the totemic age. For it is to this age that all those
-characteristics point that are still to be found, as survivals of the
-totemic period, in present-day maerchen and children's fairy-tales.
-Of such characteristics, we might mention primarily the magical
-causality which the action involves--a point to which we have already
-referred--and also the role assigned to the _animal_, which is
-portrayed either as the helper and benefactor of man or, at the least,
-as like him in nature. The latter resemblance appears particularly in
-the fact that marriages are frequently represented as taking place
-between man and animals; furthermore, transformations of men into
-animals are said to occur, and retransformations of the latter into
-men. In these totemic maerchen we very seldom find man to the exclusion
-of animals; just as little, moreover, do animals appear alone. Both
-the animal fable and the maerchen which deals exclusively with human
-beings, are products of a later development and belong to a period in
-which the maerchen is no longer credited. Even more truly, however, do
-these primitive maerchen lack the moral lessons which are taught by the
-stories of later times, particularly by the fable. Nevertheless, those
-fable maerchen which are generally called 'explicative' because they
-explain the traits of certain animals, still generally bear the marks
-of the totemic age, even though they apparently belong to one of its
-somewhat later periods. An example of this is the tale of the American
-Indians of the North-west, according to which the crow became black
-through being burned by the sun while stealing celestial fire; or the
-tale of the Bantus, which explains that the rabbit acquired the cleft
-in his lip as the result of a blow once dealt him by the man in the
-moon.
-
-The most primitive maerchen lacks all such intellectualistic motives. It
-recounts an event without any discernible purpose or without bringing
-the action to any natural conclusion. The following Australian maerchen
-may serve as an illustration: 'Several women go out into the field
-with their children to gather grass seed. There they meet a magpie. It
-offers to watch the children while the women are gathering the seeds.
-They leave the children with the magpie. When they return, however,
-the children have disappeared. The magpie has hidden them in a hollow
-tree. The women hear the children crying, but do not know where they
-are, and return home without them. The magpie has disappeared.' Such a
-narrative is strikingly similar, in its lack of aim, to the songs of
-primitive peoples. Markedly superior is the maerchen-fiction found among
-other natural peoples of totemic culture. These tales gradually develop
-a closer connection between the events. It is now that the maerchen hero
-makes his appearance, and it is with him, particularly, that the events
-are associated. This hero is not of course, similar to the one of the
-later hero saga, who gains distinction by his strength, cleverness, and
-other qualities. He is a magic-hero, in control of magical forces. The
-latter are frequently represented as communicated to him by an animal
-which he meets, or by an old woman; more rarely, he is said to receive
-them from a male magician. A further characteristic of the childhood
-period of the maerchen-fiction is the fact that the hero himself is
-almost always a child. A youth sets forth on adventure, meets with
-magical experiences, returns home, and generally benefits his tribe
-through certain possessions that he has acquired on his journey. Here,
-again, animals play a supporting role. Rich collections of such maerchen
-have been gathered, particularly in America. One of the tales of the
-Pawnee tribe of prairie Indians runs as follows: 'A young man did not
-join his companions in their sports, but went alone into the forest.
-One day he returned with a buffalo cow which had become his wife and
-had borne him a buffalo calf. But the very moment that the wife and
-calf entered the hut of the man they were transformed into human
-beings. Nevertheless, a cloud of magic hung over the man. If the child
-were to fall to the floor, it would be changed back into a buffalo
-calf. Now, this misfortune actually came to pass, and the mother was
-also again changed into a buffalo cow. Sadly the young man then went
-with them into the forest, where he himself became a buffalo and for a
-time lived quietly with the buffalo herd. Suddenly he again returned
-home, transformed into a man. But he had learned from the buffaloes
-how one must set about to lure them forth in order to hunt them. This
-secret he imparted to his fellow-tribesmen, and since that time the
-tribe has enjoyed plenty of buffalo meat.' This is a buffalo legend
-which tells of a sort of compact between the tribe and the buffaloes.
-That the legend, moreover, is not a mere maerchen in our sense of
-the term, has been strikingly shown by Dorsey, to whom we owe the
-collection of Pawnee tales from which this story is taken. The tale is
-still recounted by the Pawnees when they wish the buffalo to appear for
-the hunt. Thus, it is a magical maerchen, not only in that it deals with
-magical events but also in that its narration is supposed to exercise
-magical powers. This naturally presupposes that it is credited.
-
-To trace the further development of the totemic maerchen-myth is to
-find the gradual emergence of characteristic changes. The relation
-between man and the animal is slowly altered. This is most clearly
-apparent in connection with the transformation of human beings into
-animals. This change is no longer held to be one in which man, because
-of the magical powers which he acquires, is the gainer, and not the
-loser. The transformation now more and more comes to be regarded as a
-degradation. The man who has changed into an animal is portrayed by
-the maerchen as denounced and persecuted by his fellow-tribesmen. He
-is compelled to withdraw into solitude or to live exclusively with
-the animal herd, because he is no longer regarded by his fellows as
-an equal. Later, near the end of the totemic period, the change is
-conceived, not as degradation but as the result of an evil magic from
-which an innocent person suffers, and, eventually, as a punishment
-which overtakes a person because of some misdeed or other. Of these
-notions, that of malevolent magic again apparently antedates that
-of punishment. When the latter appears, the relation which was
-characteristic of totemism at its height becomes practically reversed.
-Quite naturally, therefore, the idea that transformation into an animal
-is a punishment arises long after the close of the totemic age. Indeed,
-it is to be found far into the period of ideas of requital, which are
-a relatively late product of deity cult, and whose development is
-largely influenced by philosophical reflection. Thus considered, the
-doctrine of metempsychosis developed by the Brahmans of India and by
-the Pythagorean sect of the Occident is the last metamorphosis of a
-very ancient totemic animal tale. These changes, however, have had
-practically no influence on the development of the maerchen itself. This
-is shown by the fact that the folk maerchen of to-day have universally
-retained the idea that the transformation of men into animals is the
-result of malevolent magic. The latter, indeed, is the form in which
-these survivals of a distant totemic past are even to-day most easily
-comprehensible to the child mind.
-
-Thus, the animal maerchen is an important product of totemic culture,
-directly embodying the views that dominate the life of this age. In
-addition to such tales, however, and, in part, in combination with
-them, there are several other forms of the maerchen-myth, consisting
-chiefly of ideas concerning nature and, to some extent, of magical
-ideas sustained by the human emotions of fear and of hope. _Two_ sorts
-of maerchen, especially, should here be mentioned, _celestial tales_
-and _tales of fortune_, both of which owe their development to totemic
-culture. The celestial maerchen, however, disappears comparatively
-early, mainly, no doubt, because it is displaced or assimilated by the
-celestial mythology of the post-totemic age. The maerchen of fortune, on
-the other hand, remains as a permanent form of maerchen-fiction, and all
-later narrative composition has been influenced by it.
-
-The celestial maerchen affords a direct record of the impression made by
-celestial phenomena on the consciousness of an age whose ideas were as
-yet circumscribed by the environment. By the environment, however, must
-as yet be understood the entire visible world--sun, moon, and stars,
-as well as hills and valleys, animals and men. The distant, moreover,
-was always likened to that which was near at hand and immediately
-accessible. Animals and men were supposed to inhabit the clouds and
-the heavenly bodies, precisely as they do the earth, and the relations
-which they were there held to sustain to one another are identical with
-those described in the animal tale. When the new moon appears, a wolf
-is devouring the moon; in an eclipse of the sun, the sun is swallowed
-up by a black monster; and when, in the evening, the sun disappears
-behind a dark cloud, it likewise is overpowered by a monster, and the
-red glow of the sunset is the blood which it sheds. _Three_ themes in
-particular are dominant in the most primitive celestial tales: the
-ascension of man into the heavens, his descent from heaven, and the
-devourment of the great heavenly bodies, in particular of the sun, at
-sunset. One of the earliest of these conceptions is the journey to
-heaven. This is indicated by the very fact that the means for this
-journey are always derived directly from nature, or consist of the
-weapons and implements of primitive culture. There is a conception
-current in Australia and Oceania that beings have climbed to heaven
-by means of high trees, or have allowed themselves to be raised up by
-the branch of a tree that had been bent down to the earth. Where the
-bow and arrow exist, as in Melanesia and America, the arrow-ladder is
-frequently employed for the celestial journey. A hunter shoots an arrow
-into the heavens, where it remains fixed; he then sends a second arrow
-which catches into the notch of the first, then a third, a fourth,
-etc., until the ladder reaches to the earth. The downward journey is
-not so difficult. This is generally accomplished by means of a basket
-or a rope sustained by cords; it is thus that the celestial inhabitant
-is enabled to descend to the earth. Many maerchen relate that the sun
-and the moon were originally human beings who journeyed to the heavens.
-Here they are thought to remain, or occasionally, perhaps, to return to
-the earth while other human beings take their place.
-
-Besides the maerchen telling of the interrelations of human and
-celestial beings, there are also a number of other sorts. Of them we
-may here single out, as a particularly characteristic type, those which
-deal with _devourment_. Obviously, as has already been noticed, it is
-the setting of the sun that very frequently constitutes the central
-theme of these tales. These maerchen of devourment, however, differ
-from those that deal with celestial journeys in that they clearly
-exemplify narratives in which only _one_ of the elements consists of
-a celestial phenomenon; in addition to it, there are regularly also
-other elements borrowed from the terrestrial environment. Indeed, the
-latter may of itself originate maerchen, independently of the influence
-of celestial phenomena. We must distinguish at the outset, therefore,
-between those maerchen of devourment that contain celestial elements
-and others in which these elements are apparently lacking. A familiar
-example of maerchen of devourment is the Biblical legend of Jonah. In
-its traditional rendering, this is clearly of a relatively late origin,
-though it is probably based on much older tales. Many of the tales
-of devourment, which are common to all parts of the earth, centre
-about a hero, who is generally a courageous youth seeking adventure.
-The hero is devoured by a monster; he kindles a fire in the belly of
-the monster, and, by burning up its entrails, rescues himself. The
-fact that fire figures so prominently in these tales makes it highly
-probable that they took shape under the influence of observations of
-the setting sun. Other tales make no mention of fire, but relate that
-the belly of the monster is extremely hot, and that the heat singes
-the hair of the one who has been swallowed. In an old illustrated
-Bible which was recently discovered, Jonah is pictured as having a
-luxuriant growth of hair at the moment when he is being swallowed; in
-a second picture, when he comes forth from the belly of the whale,
-he is entirely bald. But even though this reference to fire and to
-heat indicates an influence on the part of the sunset, this type
-of celestial maerchen is none the less entirely different from that
-which deals with journeys to heaven and the return to earth. In the
-latter, the heaven is itself the scene of action upon which men and
-animals play their roles. In the maerchen of devourment, the celestial
-phenomenon imparts certain characteristics to the terrestrial action
-that is being described, but the latter continues to preserve its
-terrestrial nature. The narrator of the maerchen or legend, therefore,
-may be wholly unconscious of any reference to the heavens. The
-psychological process of assimilation causes elements of a celestial
-phenomenon to be fused into an action of the terrestrial environment
-and to communicate to the latter certain characteristics without,
-however, thereby changing the setting of the action. The shark and the
-alligator are animals capable of devouring men, though this occurs
-less frequently in reality than in story. Yet because thoughts of this
-sort arouse strong emotions, they may of themselves very well come to
-form themes of maerchen of devourment. This has frequently been the
-case. It seems to have happened, for example, in the Jonah legend. The
-above-mentioned picture in which the prophet is represented as hairless
-after having been in the belly of the fish, may very well have its
-source in some other maerchen of devourment. In thus combining numerous
-elements of different origins, the maerchen is truly representative of
-myth development. It shows clearly that the main theme of the myth
-is usually taken from man's terrestrial environment. True, celestial
-elements may enter into its composition and may sometimes give to the
-mythological conception its characteristic features. Even in such
-cases, however, a consideration of the tale as a whole will show that
-the celestial elements are completely absorbed by the terrestrial
-theme; their very existence may be completely unknown to the narrators
-of the tale. In a similar manner, celestial elements have probably
-been involved in the formation of other widely current maerchen. Thus,
-the maerchen theme underlying the legends of the Babylonian Sargon,
-the Israelitic Moses, and the Egyptian Osiris, as well as other tales
-in which a child, secreted in a chest, is borne away by the waves
-and lands on a distant shore, is generally regarded as having been
-suggested by the temporary disappearance and reappearance of the sun in
-a cloudy sky. In this case, however, the supposition is doubtless much
-more uncertain than in the case of the maerchen of devourment. The theme
-relating to fire in the belly of the monster may be regarded as fairly
-unambiguous evidence of the influence of celestial phenomena, precisely
-because it is related only externally and apparently accidentally to
-the action. It should further be said that the maerchen of the floating
-chest, at least in its connection with the personalities of the saga
-and of history, does not appear until the post-totemic age. It is
-probably an old maerchen-theme which was assimilated by these legends of
-origin because the origin of a hero or a god was unknown and demanded
-explanation. Once appropriated, it underwent a number of changes in
-form.
-
-Thus, the celestial maerchen transcends the ideas characteristic of the
-totemic age. No less do the tales of _fortune_ or _adventure_ generally
-mark the transition from the supremacy of the animal to the dominance
-of man. These tales, however, exhibit but a gradual and continuous
-development. In the earliest maerchen-myths, of which several examples
-have already been mentioned, the narrative describes an event with
-entire objectivity, without any apparent colouring derived from the
-emotional attitude of the narrator. Later, however, even the totemic
-animal maerchen more and more betrays a love of the adventurous and of
-shifting fortunes. This change varies with the degree in which _man_
-steps into the centre of action, and animals, though not entirely
-disappearing, receive a place, similarly to monsters and other
-fantastic beings, only in so far as they affect the destinies of the
-hero of the tale. The main theme of the narrative then consists of the
-adventures of the hero, who is represented as experiencing many changes
-of fortune, always, however, with a happy ending. But even at this
-stage of development the hero is a boy; at a somewhat later period, a
-young girl sometimes assumes the role, or a youth wins a maiden after
-numerous adventures. At this point, the tale of fortune ceases to be
-a true maerchen-myth. Just as the dance changes from a cult ceremony
-into a direct expression of lively emotions of pleasure, themselves
-heightened by the joy in the rhythm of the bodily movements, so also
-does the maerchen develop into a narrative that ministers to the mere
-delight in fluctuations of life-events and in their happy outcome.
-
-Thus, the beginnings of the tale of fortune go back to early totemic
-culture, though its more perfect development is to be found only among
-the semi-cultural peoples of the totemic era. The hero of the maerchen
-then gradually passes over into the hero of the saga and of the epic.
-Instead of the boy who sets forth upon magical adventures, we find the
-youth who has matured into manhood and whose mighty deeds fill the
-world with his fame. The preliminary steps to this transition are taken
-when the maerchen hero, particularly in the tale of fortune, acquires
-a more and more _personal_ character. Thus, even at a very early age,
-we find that two types of hero appear side by side--the strong and
-the clever. These types, portrayed by the maerchen, survive also in
-the heroes of the epic. Moreover, in addition to the strong and the
-clever, the Achilles and the Ulysses, the maerchen introduces also the
-malevolent, quarrelsome, and despicable hero, the Thersites.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER III
-
-THE AGE OF HEROES AND GODS
-
-
-
-1. GENERAL CHARACTER OF THE HEROIC AGE
-
-
-The expression 'the age of heroes and gods' may meet with objection
-no less than may 'totemic age.' The latter has an air of strangeness,
-because the conceptions of totem and totemism, borrowed from modern
-ethnology, have as yet remained unfamiliar to historians, and
-especially to the historians of civilization. The former expression
-may be objected to on the ground that the conceptions 'heroes' and
-'gods' are altogether too familiar to be extended beyond their specific
-meaning and applied to an entire age. The word 'hero' suggests to
-us perhaps the Homeric Achilles, or Siegfried of the Niebelungen
-saga--those mighty, victorious warriors of epic song who, as we
-have already seen, gradually evolved out of the heroes of primitive
-maerchen. It is self-evident, however, that, when applied to a great
-and important period of culture, the expression 'hero' must not be
-limited to the narrow meaning which it possesses in hero-lore. True,
-we must not go so far as does Carlyle when, in his "Heroes and Hero
-Worship," he begins the race of heroes with Odin of the Northmen and
-ends it with Shakespeare and Goethe, thus extending the heroic age
-from prehistoric times down to the present. Nevertheless, if we would
-do justice to the significance of the conception 'heroic' as applied
-to an important period of human development, we must be permitted to
-include under the broader conception 'heroic age,' not merely the
-heroic hero but also the hero who has factored in the spiritual realm,
-as the founder of cities or states, or the creator of religions. These
-latter heroes were gradually evolved, in the course of political and
-religious development, out of the ancient epic heroes; in them, the
-heroic age continues its existence after the heroes of the powerful
-and crafty types have disappeared. In this broader significance of
-the word, a hero is any powerful individuality whatsoever, and the
-general characteristic of this new age, therefore, is the predominance
-of the _individual personality_. Externally, this expresses itself
-primarily in the fact that the age regards even all past events as
-the deeds of individual persons. Bound up with this is a progressive
-individualization of human personalities, and a constant refinement of
-the crude distinctions that characterize the tale of adventure and the
-older hero-lore.
-
-The gods of this age are likewise patterned entirely after powerful
-human personalities. They are anthropomorphic in every respect--human
-beings of a higher order, whose qualities, though found only among
-men, are magnified to infinitude. Just as the hero is a man endowed
-with more than ordinary human capacities, so the god is a hero exalted
-above the measure of earthly heroes. This itself implies that the
-hero necessarily precedes the god, just as man antedates the hero.
-Any fairly detailed account of this period, therefore, must deal with
-the hero before considering the god. The god is created after the
-image of the hero, and not, as traditional mythology still believes,
-the hero after the image of the god. It would, indeed, be a strange
-procedure for man first to create the ideal conception of his god and
-only subsequently to transform this into human outlines, and thus
-produce the hero. In the advance from man to the anthropomorphic
-god, the hero would surely already have been encountered. This, of
-course, does not imply that gods may not occasionally be transformed
-into heroes; it simply means that in the development as a whole the
-hero must have preceded the god. The relation here is precisely the
-same as that found everywhere else in connection with the development
-and degeneration of mythological conceptions. The fact of sequence,
-however, must not be interpreted to mean that we can point to a time
-in which there were heroes but no gods. Hero and god belong together.
-Both reflect an effort to exalt human personality into the superhuman.
-In this process, no fixed line may be drawn separating the hero, whose
-activity still falls within the human sphere, from the god, who is
-exalted above it. In fact, the differences between hero and god are
-by no means merely quantitative, measurable in terms of the elevation
-above the plane of human characteristics; the differentiating marks are
-essentially _qualitative_. The hero remains human in all his thought
-and action. The god, on the other hand, possesses not merely human
-capacities raised to their highest power, but also characteristics
-which are lacking in man and therefore also in the hero. Especially
-noteworthy among the latter is the ability through his own power to
-perform magical acts, and thus to interfere at will in the course of
-nature as well as in human life. True, the hero of saga and poetry
-also employs magical agencies. The means of magic which he controls,
-however, have been bestowed upon him by some strange demoniacal being,
-either by one of those demons which, in the form of a man, an animal,
-or a fantastic monster, are recognized even by the early mythical
-tales as magical beings, or by a god, who, as such, combines the
-highest qualities of the hero with those of the demon. The conception
-of an anthropomorphic god, therefore, results from a fusion of hero
-with demon. Of these, the hero is a new creation, originating in the
-mental life of this later age. He was long foreshadowed, however, first
-by the animal ancestor (especially in so far as the latter brought
-blessings and good fortune), and then by the subsequent cult of human
-ancestors. But the figure of the hero is not completely developed until
-the human personality enters into the very forefront of mythological
-thought; then, through regular transitions, the value placed on
-personal characteristics is enhanced until the ideal of the hero is
-reached. Doubtless the hero may still incidentally be associated with
-the ancestor, yet personality as such has now come so to dominate the
-interest of the age that in comparison with it the genealogical feature
-is but secondary.
-
-Not so with the demon-idea. Though it has come down from very remote
-times and has assumed many forms as a result of varying cultural
-conditions, the demon has always remained a magic being, arousing now
-hope, now fear and terror. This was its nature up to the very time
-when the ideal of the hero arose. This new idea it then appropriated,
-just as it did, in earlier times, the ideas of a soul that survives
-the deceased, of the totem animal, of the ancestor, and of other
-mythological figures. The very nature of the demon has always been
-constituted by such incorporated elements. From this point of view, the
-god also is only a new form of demon. In its earlier forms, however,
-as spirit-demon, animal-demon, and, finally, even as ancestor-demon,
-the demon was an impersonal product of the emotions, and possessed
-characteristics which underwent constant transformations. When it
-became a hero, it for the first time rose to the level of a personal
-being. Through the enhancement of the qualities of the hero it was
-then elevated into the sphere of the superhuman. Thus it came to
-constitute a human ideal far transcending the hero. This accounts
-for the uniqueness of the god-conception, and for the fact that,
-though the god assumes the essential characteristics of the demon,
-the two are nevertheless more widely distinct than were any of the
-earlier forms of demon conceptions from those that anteceded them. The
-rise of the god-idea, therefore, ushers in a new epoch of religious
-development. Just because of the contrast between personal god and
-impersonal demon, this epoch may be designated as that of the _origin
-of religion_, in the narrower and proper sense of the word. The various
-forms of pure demon-belief are preparatory to religion; religion
-itself begins with the belief in gods. The relation which the belief
-in demons sustains to the belief in gods is another evidence that hero
-and god must be grouped together, for there can be no clearly marked
-temporal difference in the origin of these two ideals of personality.
-Just as soon as the figure of the human hero arises, it assimilates
-the demon-conception, which was already long in existence and which
-continually underwent changes as a result of the various ideas with
-which it came into contact. Alongside of the being that arose from
-this fusion, however, there continued also the hero in his purity, as
-well as the demon, whose various forms were at most crowded into the
-background by the appearance of the gods. To however great an extent,
-therefore, the age of heroes and gods may introduce a completely new
-spiritual movement that proves fundamental to all future culture and
-religion, it nevertheless also includes all the elements of previous
-development. These elements, moreover, are not merely present in forms
-that have been altered and in part completely changed by the processes
-of assimilation; side by side with such forms, there are always also
-the original elements, which may be traced back to the earliest
-beginnings of mythological thought. The dominant factor determining
-the character of this new age, however, is the _hero_. The ideal of
-human personality which the hero engenders in the folk consciousness
-conditions all further development, and especially the origin of the
-god. For this reason the 'age of heroes and gods' might also, and more
-briefly, be called the _heroic age_.
-
-As the direct incarnation of the idea of personality, it is the hero
-about whom the new development of myth and religion centres. Similarly,
-the hero also stands in closest relation to the transformations that
-occur in all other departments of human life. Enormous changes in
-economic conditions and in the forms of life dependent upon them,
-new social institutions, with their reactions upon custom and law,
-transformations and creations in all branches of art--all give
-expression to the new development upon which this age has entered.
-Here also, just as at the beginning of the anteceding age, there are
-numerous reciprocal relations between these various factors. The hero
-and the god cannot be conceived apart from the _State_, whose founding
-marks the beginning of this period. Custom and law are just as much
-results of the new political society as they are themselves essential
-factors in its creation. Neither the State nor the worship of gods
-protected by it could survive apart from the great changes in economic
-life that took place at the beginning of this period, and that were
-further established and perfected in the course of time. Thus, here
-also each element reinforces every other; all the factors of life are
-in constant interaction. At the beginning of the totemic period, as
-we have seen, it was the new creations of mythological thought that
-constituted the centre from which radiated all the other elements of
-culture. At the beginning of the age of heroes and gods it is the
-creative power of the _religious_ consciousness whose activities most
-accurately mirror the various spiritual achievements of the period.
-
-
-
-2. THE EXTERNAL CULTURE OF THE HEROIC AGE.
-
-
-The heroic era is so comprehensive and comprises so large a part of
-human history that any attempt to arrive at even the barest outlines
-of its external culture makes it clear that this culture is even less
-unitary than is that of the preceding period. The differentiation of
-phenomena naturally increases with advancing development. Even the
-various forms of totemic culture manifest wide differences in detail;
-indeed, when taken as a whole, they represent distinct stages. When
-we come to the heroic age, however, whose beginning is practically
-coincident with the beginnings of history in the usual sense of the
-term, and which includes within itself a large part of the succeeding
-course of events, the multiplicity and diversity of the forms of
-culture are incomparably greater. Every nation has its particular
-heroes, even though there are also certain general hero-types which
-everywhere recur. Even more does each nation have its gods. Heroes
-and gods are ideals created in the image of men, and therefore they
-always reflect--if possible, in a heightened degree--the characteristic
-differences of peoples. Nevertheless, amid all these differences of
-times and peoples, there are certain constant features that distinguish
-the heroic period both from the preceding age and from the era that
-follows. Most important of all these features is the establishment of
-the _State_. It was a long step from totemic tribal organization to
-political institutions. In the surge and press of the folk migrations
-which occurred at the beginning of the heroic period, traces of the
-preceding tribal organization were still everywhere present. Tribes did
-not change suddenly into States. Nevertheless, along with the emergence
-of the heroic age and its concomitant phenomena, there was a noticeable
-tendency towards the formation of a political order. This development
-pursued different courses, depending on the character of the nations or
-of their heroes and gods. It is primarily the resultant differences in
-political organization which, when considered in connection with the
-parallel changes in mythological and religious development, clearly
-show that in this period, just as in the totemic age, all other aspects
-of culture were closely dependent upon mythological and religious
-ideas. 'Totemism' connotes not merely a complex of mythological beliefs
-in which a certain stage of culture had its setting, but also a unique
-form of tribal organization, which, in spite of many differences of
-detail, remained constant in its general features. Similarly, political
-society, in the original form in which it long survived, was closely
-bound up with the heroic age, even though the increasing differences
-between national cultures led, from the very outset, to a greater
-diversity of forms than were to be found in the case of totemism.
-In spite of these differences, however, the factor fundamental to
-political society remained the same. The formation of States was always
-conditioned by individual _rulership_. This itself is indicative of
-the character of the age as a whole: its typical expression is to be
-found in the personalities of heroes and of gods. Again it was the
-migrations and wars of peoples that brought about the dissolution of
-the old tribal organization and the creation of political society.
-But these migrations and wars were on an incomparably broader scale
-and had more intimate interconnections than had previously been the
-case. This gave them a correspondingly greater significance, both
-intensively and extensively. As a matter of comparison, we may refer
-to the migrations of the Malayan race during the totemic age. It would
-be difficult to conceive of more extensive migrations. But they
-took place gradually, in separate waves, and left no traces, for the
-most part, beyond changes in the physical characteristics and in the
-languages of peoples. These migrations, which frequently involved long
-voyages across the sea, were carried on by but small numbers of people,
-who set out from restricted groups. It cannot be doubted that these
-migrations exercised an influence on the character and the culture of
-the resulting mixed races. They were never able, however, completely
-to transform the culture as a whole. Even when these tribal migrations
-occurred in oft-repeated waves, they never resulted in more than such
-imperfect beginnings of a political organization as we find among
-the Polynesians or, in other parts of the earth, among many of the
-semi-cultural peoples of America and Africa.
-
-Quite different are the _folk migrations_ that occur at the very
-dawn of the history of the great cultural peoples. The difference
-between tribal and racial migrations is an important one. When a race
-migrates, it retains its peculiar characteristics, its traditions, its
-heroes, and its gods, and transplants these into the new territory.
-True, these various elements do not remain unchanged. They inevitably
-become fused with the culture of the original inhabitants, and it is
-from these fusions, when they are at all deep-going, that new peoples
-arise. None of the great cultural nations that mark the beginning of
-this age of heroes and gods, from the Babylonians down to the Greeks,
-the Romans, and the Germans, is homogeneous. Indeed, recent Babylonian
-investigations have shown that the Semitic immigration into Babylon
-was preceded by that of other peoples who were probably of different
-origin--namely, the Sumerians. We know of the latter only through
-linguistic traces in Babylonian inscriptions, of which, however, the
-religious parts, especially, show that the Sumerians exercised a great
-influence upon later civilization. Similarly, the settlement of the
-Greeks, Romans, and Germans in the territory which they eventually
-occupied, followed upon great earlier migrations to these regions. The
-people that finally formed the Greek race left the mountain country
-of Thrace and Thessaly in prehistoric times; wandering towards the
-sea, they fused with the original inhabitants of the regions into
-which they entered. In view of these migrations of early history, the
-theory of the desirability of racial purity, which has recently been so
-ardently championed in many quarters, is scarcely tenable. Political
-organization, on the one hand, and mythology and religion, on the
-other, represent important creations which for the most part sprang
-into existence only in the wake of migration and of the resultant
-fusion of peoples of different races.
-
-Though political organization has been mentioned as the first important
-feature distinguishing the heroic age from the preceding era, there
-is a second and not less significant differentia. This relates to the
-material conditions of life. Two things are of outstanding importance
-for the new culture. The first of these consists in what we ordinarily
-call agriculture--that is, the tilling of the soil by the aid of the
-_plough_, or, as it is therefore more properly called in contrast to
-the earlier hoe-culture, plough-culture. In addition, there is the
-_breeding of domestic animals_, particularly of food-supplying cattle,
-and, later, of sheep and goats.
-
-It is even to-day widely believed that, of the various modes of
-procuring food, hunting came first. The hunter is thought to have
-been seized, one fine day, with an impulse to domesticate animals
-instead of hunting them. He tamed the wild creatures, and thus turned
-from a hunter into a nomad. In the course of time, the nomad is then
-supposed to have tired of his wandering life and to have settled
-down in permanent habitations. Instead of obtaining milk by herding
-his cattle, he hitched the ox to the plough, after having (with that
-wisdom and foresight which such theories always attribute to primitive
-man) invented the plough. This theory is an impossible fiction from
-beginning to end. It is just as intrinsically improbable as is the
-above-mentioned hypothesis that in prehistoric times the Australians
-invented totemic tribal organization and exogamy for the purpose of
-preventing the marriage of relatives. We have seen, on the contrary,
-that the prohibition of such marriages was a consequence of exogamy,
-and that the latter, in turn, was not a deliberate invention but the
-natural result of certain conditions inherent in the culture of the
-age. All these institutions were originally due to influences whose
-outcome could not possibly have been foreseen. The same is true of the
-subject under discussion. In the first place, the assumed order of
-succession of the three stages of life is contradicted by facts. It is
-hardly correct to speak of a hunting life which is not supplemented
-by a certain amount of agriculture in the form of hoe-culture--an
-industry which, as a rule, is carried on by the woman in the immediate
-vicinity of the hut. This primitive agriculture existed even at a very
-early age. We find it widely prevalent among the American aborigines,
-who possessed no domesticated animal whatever except the dog, and the
-dog, as was above observed, was never tamed at all, but domesticated
-itself at the very dawn of prehistoric times. The supposition that the
-nomadic life followed upon that of the hunter is impossible, in the
-second place, because the animals that are hunted are not identical
-with those that form the care of the nomad. Cattle were never objects
-of the chase; the closely related buffalo, on the other hand, was never
-domesticated, but has remained exclusively a game animal down to the
-present day. Game animals have never been domesticated and utilized
-for the purpose of supplying milk and drawing the plough. No doubt the
-domestic animals of the nomad at one time existed in a wild state. Wild
-cattle, of course, preceded tame cattle. But the latter did not develop
-from the former by the indirect way of the hunted animal. Nor does
-agriculture at all presuppose a nomadic life. There are vast stretches
-of the Old World, as, for instance, all of China, Indo-China, and
-Indonesia, where the production of milk was never engaged in but where
-agriculture in the form of plough-culture has existed, in part, since
-early times. Agriculture, however, involves the raising of cattle,
-particularly of oxen. These male cattle are castrated, usually when
-very young. They are thus made tractable, so that they may be hitched
-to the plough and used for agricultural purposes more easily than is
-possible in the case of bulls, which are never completely manageable.
-What, then, were the motives which led to the raising of cattle, an
-occupation which, in many places at least, is carried on solely in
-the interests of agriculture? What motives led to the castration of
-male cattle, a practice which everywhere obviously serves agricultural
-purposes?
-
-The traditional mode of explanation would lead us to suppose that man
-foresaw the effects of castration, that he knew beforehand that if the
-bull were subjected to this operation he would become an animal fitted
-to draw the plough. The impossibility of this supposition is evident.
-Such an effect could be learned only from experience, prior to which,
-therefore, it could not have been known. The problem relating to the
-cultivation of the soil by means of the plough, therefore, divides into
-two questions: How may we account for the ox? How for the plough? These
-questions are closely related, and yet they lead us back to divergent
-explanations. For in all probability the plough was originally drawn
-by man. Moreover, the plough was not the first implement to be thus
-drawn; it was anteceded by the _wagon_. Even on the early Babylonian
-and Assyrian monuments there were figures of a wagon bearing either
-an image of a god or else the king or chief priest, both of whom were
-probably regarded as uniting in _one person_ the function of their
-offices with that of representative of the deity. Thus, the question
-as to the origin of the plough carries us back directly to that of the
-origin of the wagon. Now, the earliest wagon had but two wheels; the
-four-wheeled wagon came as a later discovery or as an improvement.
-The two-wheeled wagon, however, presupposes the wheel. But how did
-the wheel come to be recognized as a useful object of locomotion? The
-first traces of a wheel or of wheel-like objects are to be found in
-the latter part of the stone age. A number of such objects have been
-discovered in Europe; in their centre is a hole, and there are spokes
-that radiate to the circumference. The fact that these wheels are
-of small size indicates that they may have been worn about the neck
-as amulets. But even in early culture the wheel was also put to an
-entirely different use. Widely prevalent over the earth and probably
-connected with ancient sun worship, is the custom of kindling a fire
-to celebrate the festival of the summer solstice. In ancient Mexico,
-tradition tells us, this fire was started by turning a notched disk
-of wood about a stake until the heat thus generated gave rise to
-fire--the same method of producing fire by friction that is still in
-use among primitive peoples. This fiery wheel was then rolled down
-a hill as an image of the sun, and later, when the custom had lost
-its original magical significance, as a symbol of the sun moving in
-the heavens. According to the report of W. Mannhardt, a remarkably
-similar custom existed in East Prussia not so very long ago. Perhaps
-the wheel that was worn about the neck as an amulet or article of
-adornment likewise had some connection with the idea that the sun
-was a celestial wheel rolling across the heavens. After the early
-sun cults had once created the rolling wheel in imitation of the sun
-and its movements, it was but a short step to the idea of securing
-regular, continuous movements by means of which some sort of work
-might be performed. An early application of this idea is to be found
-in the practice of spinning with distaff and whorl. This invention
-was credited even by the ancients to prehistoric times. Doubtless its
-origin belongs to the beginnings of the heroic age. This same early
-period, however, probably also used the wheel for transporting heavy
-articles. This was the original purpose of the one-wheeled barrow. It
-alone enabled the ancient Babylonians and Egyptians to overcome the
-difficulties of transporting by human agencies the mighty blocks of
-stone required for their temples and pyramids. From this it was not a
-far advance to the two-wheeled wagon. The barrow was pulled or pushed
-by men. The wagon, in contrast to the barrow, was apparently from the
-beginning an aristocratic mode of transit, never used by the common
-people. The two-wheeled wagon was in the first instance a vehicle of
-the gods. Later it served as the vehicle of the ruler, the terrestrial
-counterpart of the deity. Finally, the nobleman employed it in war,
-in going forth to battle. A vivid portrayal of battles in which such
-two-wheeled wagons played a part is presented in the Iliad. True, the
-wagon is here also, as a rule, only a means for carrying the hero to
-the scene of combat. The fighting itself is seldom done from it. Upon
-its arrival at the appointed place, the warrior dismounts, to try
-his strength, shield against shield, with his opponent. The general
-populace, however, always goes on foot.
-
-This sketch gives us the main outlines of the history of the wagon.
-But how did the animal, first the ox and later the horse, come to be
-hitched to the wagon? Originally, the wagon bearing the image of the
-god was very probably drawn by men, as was likewise, in imitation of
-this, the chariot of the king. But the breeding of animals soon changed
-matters. Oxen were used for the purpose of drawing wagons much earlier
-than were horses. The horse did not appear until late in the history
-of civilization. There are no Egyptian pictures of horses that date
-back farther than the fifteenth dynasty, whereas those of cattle occur
-considerably earlier. In Oriental civilization, furthermore, the ass
-antedates the horse. In harmony with ancient custom, the ass even
-to-day continues, in the Orient, to be a favourite beast of burden as
-well as a riding animal. The horse seems to make its first appearance
-in history along with the Indo-Germanic tribes, who were probably
-indebted for it to the Turanian peoples of the Asiatic steppes. As a
-result of its superior speed, it then superseded its rivals in all the
-civilized countries of the ancient world. The Assyrian king went forth
-to the chase and the Homeric hero proceeded to battle in a chariot
-drawn by steeds. It was only later that the Greeks used the horse for
-saddle purposes, and not merely to draw the chariot. When this took
-place, equestrian combat came into favour among the aristocracy.
-
-This development, however, was preceded not only by the taming of
-cattle but probably also by the use of the ox for drawing the wagon.
-How the latter came about may, of course, only be conjectured. The
-bull has remained unmanageable even to the present day; the attempt to
-hitch him to a wagon, therefore, must always have failed. The cow was
-not forced into this service--at least, not in those places where milk
-was valued. On the other hand, the castrated male animal is thoroughly
-suited to the task of drawing the wagon. It is stronger than the cow,
-and also more tractable. It is inconceivable, however, that castration
-was originally performed with the purpose of engendering these
-characteristics. Before there could be such a purpose, the results must
-already have been known--that is, the operation must already have been
-performed for other purposes. Eduard Hahn has offered a suggestion
-with reference to our problem. He has called attention to the ancient
-Asiatic cults of the Phrygian Cybele and the Syrio-Phoenician Astarte.
-These cults are similar to the vegetation festivals which, as was
-mentioned in the preceding chapter, may be found among the Pueblo
-peoples of America. Similar orgiastic phenomena recur wherever peoples
-are primarily concerned with agriculture and are anxious for the
-welfare of the grain. The beginnings of vegetation cults, found in the
-earlier period of hoe-culture, were succeeded by more developed deity
-cults, connected with plough-culture. The ecstatic motives associated
-with the tilling of the soil then extended their influence beyond the
-limits of vegetation cults proper and became universal elements of the
-deity cults. The powers shared by the numerous demoniacal beings of
-the more primitive cults were now centralized in a _single_ goddess
-mother. The life-giving activity of the deity in connection with human
-procreation came to be of focal interest. The exaggerated development
-of cult ecstasy caused the orgy to become a form of self-mortification.
-The cult associates, especially the priests, lacerated and emasculated
-themselves in the fury of religious excitement. By becoming a permanent
-custom, this gave rise to a group of eunuchs consecrated to the
-service of the deity. These were doubtless the earliest eunuchs of
-history. In the guardians of Turkish harems and in the singers of
-the Sistine Chapel, survivals of these unrestrained cults of the past
-still exist. Now, when the group of emasculated priests paced beside
-the chariot of the goddess, they might easily have hit upon the idea
-of hitching a castrated animal to the wagon. But, however plausible
-this hypothesis may appear, in that it avoids the impossible assumption
-of an invention, it nevertheless leaves one question unanswered. Even
-though the castration of the priest may be understood as the result of
-the well-known effects of extreme religious excitement, the castration
-of the bull is not yet accounted for. Are we to suppose that the priest
-merely aimed to render the animal similar to himself? Neither ecstasy
-nor reflection could account for such a purpose. But there is another
-factor which has always been significant for cult, and which attained
-to increased importance precisely in the worship of the deity. I refer
-to _sacrifice_. In its highest stages, sacrifice assumes new forms, in
-that man offers either himself or parts of his own body, his blood, his
-hair, or a finger. A late survival of such sacrifices is to be found
-in a custom that is still prevalent in Catholic countries. Here it
-frequently occurs that a sick man lays a wax replica of the diseased
-part of his body upon the altar of the saint. This idea of sacrificing
-parts of one's own body is also exemplified in the self-emasculation
-practised by the Russian sect of Skopzi even in our own Christian age.
-Such sacrifice, moreover, may receive a wider application, so as to
-include, among the sacrificial objects, parts of the animal. Now at one
-time the kidneys with their connected organs were regarded as vehicles
-of the soul, and, as such, were sacrificed to the gods. The castration
-of the bull, therefore, may originally well have been regarded as the
-sacrifice of the most readily accessible of the favourite vehicles
-of the soul. Thus, it may have been in the case of the animal whose
-generative organs had been sacrificed to the deity that man first
-observed the change of characteristics which fitted the animal to be
-hitched to the chariot of the deity, and finally, through an extension
-of its sphere of usefulness, to draw the plough across the fields.
-This hypothesis, which presupposes the joint influence of orgiastic
-vegetation cults and ancient sacrificial usages, is, of course, not
-susceptible of positive demonstration. Nevertheless, to one concerned
-with the transition from ancient field cults to the agriculture
-of later times, the combination of conditions just indicated may
-reasonably be regarded as affording the basis of an hypothesis that is
-psychologically not improbable.
-
-Whether the raising of the milch cow was coincident with the taming
-of the ox for the purposes of agriculture, and whether it came about
-as the result of a similar transformation of motives, it is hardly
-possible to determine. Though such changes are of more importance
-for the development of culture than are many of the campaigns and
-ancient folk wars of which history has preserved a record, no positive
-clue as to their origin has anywhere survived. All that we know with
-certainty is that the taming of the ox to draw the plough and the
-raising of the milch cow are not necessarily bound up with one another.
-For plough-culture and the milk industry are by no means always to
-be found together. In spite of his highly developed agriculture, the
-Chinaman loathes milk, whereas the Hindoo regards it as a valuable
-gift of civilization, prizing it not only because of the butter which
-he secures from it but especially as a food and as a sacrifice to the
-gods. The Israelites received the promise that Canaan was to be a land
-"that floweth with milk and honey." The latter expression suggests the
-cultural conditions of two widely different periods. Milk represents
-the most valuable product of later culture, while even primitive man
-regarded the honey which he gathered from the hives of wild bees as his
-most precious article of food.
-
-Whatever may be the relation of the two factors in the domestication
-of cattle, whether the taming of the ox preceded the raising of cows
-or vice versa, the production of milk, at any rate, represents the
-more difficult and slower task. The taming of the ox is essentially an
-act that affects only the particular animal in question; even to-day
-it must be repeated in the case of every male calf; the inheritance
-of acquired characteristics is here not operative. The cow, just as
-all female mammals in their natural condition, produces very little
-milk except during the period of suckling, and then only so much as is
-necessary for the support of her young. Only through efforts continued
-throughout generations and as a result of the inheritance of acquired
-characteristics could she be brought to that tremendous over-production
-of her secretion of which she has become capable. In this case,
-therefore, there must from the very outset have been a systematic
-striving toward the desired goal. It is not absolutely essential to
-assume a change of motives such as occurred in the taming of the ox;
-from the very beginning there may have been an attempt to make personal
-use of the milk which Nature intended for the calf. Nevertheless, it is
-not impossible that religious motives here also played a part. This is
-made all the more probable by the fact that the cow, no less than the
-bull and the ox, was worshipped by many peoples even in the earliest
-period of deity cults. Such worship is particularly noteworthy,
-inasmuch as cattle were never favourite totem animals as was, for
-instance, the buffalo among the hunting peoples of the American
-prairies. Even though the general idea of animal cult was carried over
-from the totemic period to the beginnings of the agrarian deity cults,
-this animal cult was essentially changed, and it became associated with
-different objects. The latter are now no longer connected with the old
-totem beliefs that sprang, in part, from primitive animism; they are
-determined entirely by the conditions of a later culture, one of whose
-essential elements is the domestication of cattle. The two fundamental
-constituents of this later culture, agriculture and the milk industry,
-are not everywhere equally prized. Hence there is a difference as
-regards the relative importance of the male and the female member of
-the species in the cult worship that is accorded to the most valued
-domestic animal of the new economic era. In the Opis-worship of the
-Egyptians, as well as in the Persian cult of Mithra, the bull was
-regarded as an incarnation of the supreme deity. In many sections of
-Northern Europe it is even to-day customary, at harvest-time, to bedeck
-an ox with ribbons and wreaths of flowers and to lead him in a festal
-procession. On the other hand, we find that the Vedas and the Avesta,
-in harmony with the high value which the ancient Indian and Iranian
-peoples place on milk, extol the cow as the most sacred of animals. In
-the first stages of the domestication of cattle, it was possible to
-gain only a small supply of milk, since its over-production could be
-developed but slowly; just for this reason, however, milk was all the
-more valuable. This may probably also throw light on the high value
-which was long placed on butter as a sacrificial gift. The attempt to
-secure this valuable product for sacrificial purposes may then itself
-in turn have reacted upon the milk industry. Thus, the two great
-advances in material culture that attend the heroic age--the tilling of
-the soil with the plough and the systematic endeavour to secure milk
-and its products--seem to be, in part, directly due to, and, in part,
-closely bound up with, motives of cult. External culture and inner
-religious impulses have always attested themselves to be elements of a
-totality all of whose parts are interrelated.
-
-Of the new forms of industry which thus arose, the cultivation of the
-soil by means of the plough led to a further important change. This
-change was just as much an effect of the new conditions of life as it
-was an expression of the altered spirit of the times. The guidance
-of the plough is a task which prevents the field work from being any
-longer done in common, as it was at the height of hoe-culture and
-during the time of the origin of the great vegetation festivals of
-totemism. The individual must guide his own plough. The appearance of
-plough-culture _individualizes labour_. Just as the individual comes
-to the fore in political development and is extolled in legend as
-the founder of cities and States, so also is it the individual who
-cultivates the land. This individualistic tendency also gradually makes
-itself felt in the raising of domestic animals. Plough-culture gives
-rise to _private property_ as regards both the soil and its products.
-
-Here again, however, the new social order influences economic life, and
-both together produce further changes in external culture. Individual
-activity receives emphasis not alone in the cultivation of the soil
-but also in _warfare_. Primitive man was not at all familiar with
-war. He slew his enemy from an ambush, attacking him but seldom in
-open combat. In the totemic age, when actual weapons of war first
-made their appearance, tribal war was a strife of many against many.
-As yet the individual combatants were not sharply differentiated from
-one another. The masses clashed with each other in unregulated strife,
-without definite leadership or fixed system. Only with the dawn of
-the political era do we find regulated single combat. Such combat
-then becomes the decisive factor in warfare. Consider the Homeric
-description of the battles before the walls of Troy. The battle is
-decided by champions (_promachoi_). These alight from their chariots
-of war and fight, man against man. The masses stand in the background,
-hurling lances or stones. Their actions, however, have little
-importance. They flee as soon as their champion falls. The result of
-the battle thus depends upon individuals and not upon the masses. The
-weapons also conform to these altered conditions. In earlier times,
-practically none but long-distance weapons were used--the sling, the
-hurled spear, or the bow and arrow, weapons similar to those employed
-in the chase. Single combat necessitated weapons of close range--the
-axe, held fast in the hand, the lance, used as a thrusting weapon,
-and the sword. Instead of the long shield, covering almost the entire
-body--shields such as even the Australians and also the earliest
-Greeks carried--a small round shield was demanded by reason of the
-use of swords in fighting. Of the various weapons found at the zenith
-of the heroic age, therefore, the sword is the most characteristic.
-It is also the most typical creation of this period. It obviously
-originated through a gradual shortening of the lance, thus becoming
-a weapon specifically adapted for individual combat at close range.
-Thus, the tendency toward the assertion of individual personality made
-itself felt in warfare and in weapons, just as it did in the State, in
-agriculture, and in the cult of personal gods.
-
-Similar fundamental factors underlie the last great cultural change.
-This we have already touched upon in our discussion of agriculture,
-namely, the _rise of private property_. Following inevitably upon the
-appearance of private property are distinctions in wealth; these lead
-to differences in social position. In the totemic age, the contrasting
-conditions of rich and poor are, on the whole, not in particular
-evidence; even towards the decline of the period, indeed, they are
-only beginning to arise. Every man is the equal of the other. Only
-the chiefs and a small number of the older men have a superior rank.
-This rank, moreover, is not due to property but to the services which
-ability and experience enable them to render, or to the reverence
-which custom metes out to them. It is not until the heroic age that
-a propertied class becomes differentiated from a class owning little
-or nothing. This change is due in an important measure to the folk
-migrations that inaugurate the beginning of the new age. The propertied
-class derives from the victorious conquerors; the original inhabitants
-are without property. In the warfare connected with these migrations,
-slaves are captured; these are employed particularly in the cultivation
-of the soil. Thus, the more aristocratic are exalted by their greater
-possessions above those who have less property. As free individuals,
-however, both of these classes are superior to the slaves, who,
-similarly to the animals used in agriculture, are themselves regarded
-as the possession of the free and the rich.
-
-Bound up with these social distinctions is the _division of labour_
-which now arises. The landowner no longer himself manufactures the
-tools which he needs or the weapons with which he goes to war. A class
-of artisans is formed, consisting partly of those who have little
-property, and partly of slaves. This differentiation of labour leads
-to _two_ phenomena which long continue to influence the development of
-culture. I refer to _trade_ and _colonization_. The former consists
-in the transmission of the products of labour; the latter, in the
-migration of a part of the people itself into distant places, where the
-same conditions that led to the founding of the mother State result in
-daughter States. In the totemic age, there were no colonies. Extensive
-as were the wanderings of the Papuans, the Malays, the Polynesians,
-and of some of the American and African tribes, these peoples never
-established colonies; moreover, the group which settled in distant
-places always lost its connection with the mother group. True, new
-living conditions were sought and found, and, through mixture with the
-native populations, new races were produced. Nevertheless, it was not
-until the political age that those parts of a particular people which
-settled down in foreign lands continued to retain a consciousness of
-connection with the mother race.
-
-Of the two above-mentioned elements of the newer culture, commerce
-naturally preceded colonization. Of all civilized peoples, the
-Semitic race was the first to open up great channels of trade.
-Phoenician commerce dates back to the earliest records of history.
-Even the Mycenian graves of Greece contain gold jewelry of Phoenician
-workmanship. Spacially, the trade relations of the ancient Phoenicians
-extended over the whole of the known Occident. It is characteristic
-of the Semitic race, however, that they rarely undertook actual
-colonization. Trade and all that is connected with it, the industrial
-ardour necessary to supply the objects of trade and to exchange them
-for grain and other natural products, has always been their chosen
-sphere. The Indo-Germanic races, on the other hand, have naturally
-inclined to colonization from early times on. In the foremost rank
-were the Greeks, with their colonies in Thrace, Asia Minor, Southern
-Italy, and Sicily. These colonial groups, moreover, always retained
-their connection with the mother people. Thus, the earliest culture of
-the Greeks was that of the colonies in Asia Minor. Later, the colonies
-of southern Italy exercised a strong reaction on the mother country
-in science and art. It was not until relatively late that the highest
-cultural development of the mother country followed upon that of these
-outposts of Greek culture.
-
-
-
-3. THE DEVELOPMENT OF POLITICAL SOCIETY.
-
-
-The fundamental characteristics of totemic society appear to be
-purely a product of nature. This is especially true of totemic tribal
-organization. Its simple regularity and the constant recurrence
-of essentially the same characteristics are the natural result of
-original conditions of life that were universally prevalent. A
-horde split up into two halves. In the simplest cases, such as we
-have noticed in our account of the Australians, tribal organization
-remained limited to this dual division. The condition that brought
-about this organization arose as soon as a horde that spoke the same
-language spread out over a fairly broad territory. The same process
-of division might then repeat itself in the case of each of the
-two halves. This gave rise to a clan organization of four or eight
-divisions, as found among most of the Australian tribes, and frequently
-also in Melanesia. Such an organization was developed also by the
-original inhabitants of North America, although the totemic basis here
-degenerated and became essentially an external form. Totemic tribal
-organization is unquestionably a phenomenon that arises with immanent
-necessity; indeed, one might almost say that its appearance involves
-no co-operation on the part of man himself. The division takes place
-of itself; it is a result of the natural conditions underlying the
-propagation and growth of society.
-
-From the very beginning of the heroic age on, the development of
-political society gave rise to phenomena that were fundamentally
-different from those of earlier times. The irreconcilability of this
-fact with the view, still held by historians and philosophers, that
-the State represents the earliest form of an ordered community life,
-is evident. Such theories were possible only when the whole of totemic
-culture was as yet a _terra incognita_. Totemic tribal organization
-cannot possibly be interpreted as an incomplete and undeveloped form
-of the State. Rather is it true that totemic and political societies
-are completely different in kind. Essentially different characteristics
-and conditions of origin demarcate them from one another, even
-though there are certain hybrid forms, representing primarily a
-partial survival of older tribal customs within the newly established
-political society. Now, in so far as mental history always involves
-a regular order of development, one would, of course, be justified
-in maintaining that human society also necessarily eventuates in the
-State--that is, in a political society. Indeed, this may perhaps be
-the meaning of Aristotle's statement that man is a "political animal."
-This statement may be interpreted to refer to a _predisposition_ rather
-than to an inherited characteristic. Nevertheless, Aristotle's view
-that the State gradually developed out of the family and the village
-community is in contradiction with the actual facts. To read back a
-tendency toward political development into the very beginnings of
-human society, moreover, results in a failure to give proper emphasis
-to those essential differences which distinguish the great periods of
-this development--differences which at the crucial points assume the
-form of antitheses. Furthermore, we must not overlook the fact that
-there are peoples who have even as yet not progressed beyond totemic
-tribal organization and who will very possibly never advance to the
-formation of a State, particularly in case this depends upon their
-own initiative. On the other hand, it is doubtless to be assumed that
-those peoples who later acquired a political organization at one time
-possessed a totemic tribal structure. The higher stage of political
-organization, however, obviously differs fundamentally from that
-which preceded it. The older motives have been superseded by such as
-are connected with the great folk migrations and tribal fusions, and
-with the changes consequent upon them. True, when the time was ripe,
-these migrations and fusions of peoples came to pass with the same
-necessity as did the original division of the primitive horde into
-two halves. Nevertheless, a new set of conditions became operative.
-These, of course, arose in a regular course of development out of the
-most primitive modes of life, and yet they were not directly derived
-from them. The creative power characteristic of all mental activity
-here manifested itself, not in the performance of miracles, but in a
-constant engenderment of new motives out of the interaction of existing
-motives with changing external conditions of life. In consequence
-of this constant change of motives and of existing conditions, even
-totemic culture made numerous attempts in the direction of political
-organization. Such steps were taken particularly by the semi-cultural
-peoples of America, who possess a relatively high civilization. It is
-precisely in the case of these peoples that it is instructive to notice
-the contrast between this political tendency and the original tribal
-organization.
-
-The difference between the two fundamental forms of society, the
-totemic and the political, is most strikingly evident in the case of
-their most external characteristic--namely, in the _numbers_ according
-to which society as a whole, as well as in its parts, is organized
-and divided. These numbers are the expression of inner motives; hence
-they form a basis from which we may draw conclusions concerning the
-latter. In the case of totemic tribal organization, these motives are
-apparently very simple; natural expansion over a broader territory
-leads to separation into groups, and this of itself gives rise to the
-customary division into two, four, and eight parts. How different
-and more complicated from its very beginnings is the organization of
-political society! Here also the development proceeds according to
-law, and yet there is not a constant recurrence of the same motive as
-is in the case of totemic tribal organization. On the contrary, we
-find a continuous fluctation between contradictory phenomena, and the
-frequent appearance of new motives. Early, and still partly legendary,
-tradition tells us of an organization of society on the basis of the
-number _twelve_. This mode of organization seems to have emanated
-from the Babylonians. They were the people who first attempted to
-govern human affairs in accordance with celestial phenomena. These
-they observed, not in the unsystematic, imaginative, mythological
-manner of the natural peoples of Polynesia and America, but with the
-aid of astronomical instruments. True, the science of the Babylonians
-was also still based on mythological foundations. These mythological
-features, however, were combined with the idea of an all-embracing,
-divine rule of law. The endeavour to find this law and order in the
-starry sky, the greatest and most sublime sight that the human eye
-may behold, resulted in observations that were scientific and exact.
-Thus, the union of the two ideas led with a sort of inner necessity
-to the acceptance of the number twelve as a norm. The application of
-this norm to human relations was a direct result of the belief that
-it was of divine origin. The Babylonian calendar, whose fundamental
-principles, in spite of numerous reforms, have retained their authority
-even down to the present, was the first to emphasize the principle of
-bringing the courses of the sun and moon into an ordered numerical
-relation for the purpose of reckoning time. Taking as their point of
-departure the position of the sun at the vernal equinox, and following
-the movements of the moon until the sun returned to the same position,
-the Babylonians found that twelve revolutions of the moon were
-equivalent to one of the sun. While this observation is in reality,
-of course, only approximately true, to the first astronomers it might
-have appeared sufficiently exact to be regarded as the law of a divine
-world order. Thus, the year came to be divided into twelve months;
-and, since the moon presents four phases in each month, first quarter,
-full moon, last quarter, and new moon--an observation which long
-antedates astronomical calculation--the month was at once divided into
-four parts. Since the month has approximately twenty-eight days, the
-result was a _week_, comprising _seven days_. This number, therefore,
-was not, as has sometimes been erroneously assumed, derived from the
-seven planets. Rather is it true, conversely, that the number of the
-planets was, with a certain arbitrariness, first fixed at seven after
-this number, as well as twelve, had come to be regarded as _sacred_,
-because of its relation to the movements of the sun and moon. These
-numbers were believed to be written by the gods themselves in flaming
-letters on the sky. To the Babylonian, the sky furnished a revelation
-of the laws that should govern terrestrial life. The number twelve,
-especially, was adopted as the basis of the organization of human
-society. Of this oldest form of division, however, only meagre and
-occasional survivals have remained. We may refer to the legendary
-twelve tribes of pre-exilic Israel--later a source of much difficulty
-to Talmudic scholars, inasmuch as these tribes are not to be found in
-history--and also to the twelve gods of Greece, the twelve Apostles,
-etc. But the number twelve has not merely left its traces in legend;
-it has also inscribed itself in the records of history. Thus, the
-Athenian population originally comprised twelve divisions, there being
-four clans (_phyles_), each of which was composed of three _phratries_.
-Similarly, the colonial territory of the Greeks in Asia Minor is said
-to have included twelve Ionic cities. Moreover, even in later times,
-the Amphictyonic League, which undertook the protection of the Delphic
-oracle, consisted of twelve amphictyons, though this, it is true, was
-also connected with the division of time, each of the twelve tribal
-groups being entrusted with the guardianship of the shrine for one
-month in the year. With few unimportant exceptions, however, the number
-twelve, which was at one time probably very widely regnant, has lost
-its influence. Its place in the organization of society as well as
-in the regulation of other aspects of human life has been taken by a
-numerical system that still dominates our entire culture--the _decimal_
-system. Even prior to the age of Columbus, the decimal system made its
-appearance in certain more civilized parts of the Western world where
-the duodecimal system was never known. That the former originated
-independently in different places, is rendered all the more likely by
-the fact that even primitive man used his ten fingers as an aid in
-counting, in spite of the fact that he had not as yet formed words for
-numbers greater than three or four. But, however natural this method
-of counting may be, its application to the organization of the group
-and the division of peoples nevertheless represents a _deliberately
-adopted_ plan. If possible, this is even more true here than in the
-case of the duodecimal system. We are now face to face with the wide
-difference that separates political society from totemic tribal
-organization. In developing on the principle of dual division, the
-latter resembles a natural process which runs its own course apart from
-any operation of conscious intention, even though directly influenced,
-of course, by the general conditions of human life. The organization
-of society according to the number ten, on the other hand, can be
-interpreted only as an intentional act. Hence history not infrequently
-brings this form of organization into direct association with the names
-of individual lawgivers, with Clisthenes of Athens or Servius Tullius
-of Rome. No doubt, a basis for this new order had been prepared by the
-general conditions of a society which had progressed beyond the totemic
-stage. Its systematic introduction, however, and the series of decimal
-subdivisions that ensued, are only conceivable as a legislative act
-emanating from a personal will. In the formation of social groups, no
-less than in the classification and enumeration of external objects
-of nature, there may at times have been some vacillation of choice
-between the duodecimal and the decimal systems. In its application
-to human society, however, the decimal system finally prevailed.
-Indeed, the simple means of counting afforded by our ten fingers
-supplanted the system suggested by the firmament in every field of
-use, except in connection with celestial phenomena themselves and with
-the reckoning of time, which was directly based on the observation
-of these phenomena. That the victory of the decimal principle was
-due merely to the practical necessity of choosing the principle that
-was simplest and most convenient, is shown by the fact that ten was
-never a sacred number, as was twelve. It has a purely terrestrial and
-human origin. In the field of the practical necessities of life, man
-was victorious over the gods. Perhaps, therefore, the organization
-of society on the decimal principle reflects also the triumph of the
-secular State over theocracy. The decimal principle likewise exercised
-a certain influence upon the division of time, and it is surely not
-accidental that such influence coincides with epochs that are strongly
-characterized by a secularization of human interests. As early as
-the sixth century B.C., the great political organizer of Athens,
-Clisthenes, made an attempt to divide the year into ten months instead
-of twelve. The attempt miscarried, just as did the analogous one on
-the part of the first French Republic to introduce a week of ten days.
-As a matter of fact, objective measurements of time are derived from
-the heavens and not from man. On the other hand, our measurement of
-terrestrial spaces and our grouping of populations depend entirely upon
-ourselves, and therefore naturally conform to human characteristics.
-In these cases, it is the decimal system that is used. In view of the
-fact that the number ten was deliberately adopted, this number has been
-thought to represent an idea that emanated from a single source. Since
-the organization effected by Clisthenes and that of Servius Tullius in
-Rome fall approximately within the same century, it has been believed
-that in these cases, especially, we may assume this fundamental idea
-of division to have been borrowed. The very extensive distribution
-of the decimal system, however, militates against the probability of
-this supposition. Thus, the Book of Exodus no longer speaks of the
-legendary twelve tribes of Israel but tells of only _ten_ tribes. We
-likewise hear of groups of one hundred, and of more extensive groups
-consisting of one thousand. These divisions also recur among the
-Germanic peoples, and in the far-distant realm of the Peruvian Incas.
-Among the latter, however, there are also distinct traces of a totemic
-tribal organization that antedated the invasion of the Incas. This was
-the foundation upon which the Inca kings and their officials finally
-reared an organization consisting of groups of ten, one hundred, and
-one thousand--indeed, the latter were even brought together to form
-groups of ten thousand. In certain cases, such systems may perhaps
-have been introduced from without or may, in part, have been acquired
-through imitation. Nevertheless, the supposition that they all
-emanated from a single region is doubtless just as improbable as is the
-view that the decimal system in general had but a single origin. This
-new grouping of the population is closely bound up with the conditions
-of political society. It is dependent upon _two_ motives, which, though
-not universally operative at first, became so the very moment that
-political society took its rise. The first motive is of a subjective
-nature. It consists in an increased facility in the use of the decimal
-mode of counting, as a result of which larger groups, consisting of
-multiples of ten, are formed: besides the single group of ten, it
-must have become possible to conceive of groups of one hundred, one
-thousand, and, in rare cases, even of one hundred thousand. The other
-motive is objective in character. There are changes in the external
-conditions of life such as to demand more comprehensive and at the same
-time more highly organized divisions than prevailed in the natural
-tribal organization of the preceding age. In two distinct directions
-does the decimal system prove readily applicable. One is in the
-distribution of landed property. With the appearance of plough-culture,
-land gradually came to be largely converted into personal property.
-It was all the more necessary, therefore, for the individual to
-unite with others for the sake of protection and aid. Thus arose the
-mark-community. This naturally centred about that part of the territory
-which, because it was not put under the plough but was reserved
-for common use as well as common care, temporarily remained common
-property--namely, the pasture and woodland. Thus, the _mark-community_
-was inevitable: it resulted from the new method of cultivating the
-soil, which brought with it a combination of personal property with
-common ownership. The size of the community was, of course, determined
-by the relation which these two forms of ownership sustained to each
-other, being dependent upon the fact that the amount of common property
-had to correspond with the number of individual owners who shared its
-use. The right proportion of these two sorts of property could be
-determined only by experience and reflection. Once ascertained, it was
-but natural to adopt this proportion more generally, in connection with
-more extensive groups of people. Here the decimal organization into
-groups of tens and hundreds, to which subjective influences naturally
-tended, promised to be convenient also from the standpoint of objective
-conditions.
-
-Independently of other factors the mark-community might have permitted
-certain diversities in size. The groups were rendered uniform, however,
-through the influence of another organization, whose divisions, on
-the one hand, were necessarily identical with the mark-communities
-but, on the other hand, possessed by their very nature a strong
-inherent tendency toward regularity of size. I refer to the _military
-organization_, which was created by the political society in the
-interest of self-protection. In the early part of the heroic period,
-the individual champion was doubtless of such pre-eminent importance
-that the masses formed but a somewhat unorganized background. Homer
-presents such a picture, though his account is perhaps not so much
-a faithful representation of actual conditions as the result of the
-individualizing tendency of poetic narrative. But just as the masses
-very soon gain greater prominence in political life, so also do they
-in warfare. This encourages tactical organization. At this stage
-of political and military development, therefore, companies of one
-hundred, and soon afterwards groups of one thousand, are formed, and
-are organized as the chief divisions of the army. That these groups be
-always of approximately equal size is required by military tactics;
-that the group of one hundred is the tactical unit of which the other
-divisions are composed, is due to the circumstance that such a group
-is not too large to permit of being directed by a single leader; that
-the number is an even one hundred results solely from the tendency
-toward decimal enumeration. Since the political society is composed of
-individuals who are, as a rule, both mark-associates and companions
-in war, the two groups coalesce. The distribution of property and
-territorial and military organization are the determining factors in
-political society.
-
-Political society thus acquires a new basis. The conditions determining
-its character are very different from those that underlie totemic
-tribal organization. Quite naturally, therefore, the tribal system
-disappears with the rise of the State; it is at best but fragments
-of it that survive in names, cult-alliances, or in bits of custom.
-On the other hand, the new organization exercises an influence upon
-all the relations of life. In part, it effects changes in existing
-institutions; in part, it creates new institutions, which unite to
-give the political age its characteristic stamp. We have spoken of
-the peaceful arts of agriculture, which provide for the maintenance
-of society, and of the military organization, reared upon agriculture
-to assure safety and protection from without. There are primarily
-_three_ additional features that characterize political society,
-especially at its inception. The first of these is a _reorganization
-of the family_. The other two are genuinely new creations, if we
-except certain sporadic beginnings that occur in the transitional
-culture. They consist, on the one hand, in the _differentiation of
-classes and of occupations_--both of which arise in one and the same
-course of development--and, on the other, in the _foundation of
-cities_. Doubtless this order of sequence also approximately indicates
-the successive steps in the establishment of the new political
-organization. The reorganization of the family inaugurates this
-development; it is terminated by the founding of cities, for cities are
-the centres from which the management of the State is conducted and
-which mediate intercourse between the separate regions; following upon
-the former and preceding the latter, is the differentiation of classes
-and of occupations--a result of property conditions and of military
-organization.
-
-
-
-4. FAMILY ORGANIZATION WITHIN POLITICAL SOCIETY.
-
-
-
-Wherever primitive man has been protected against foreign influences,
-as we have seen, he apparently always lives in monogamy. This mode
-of marriage is continued in the totemic age, and is the fundamental
-mode from which all others are deviations. These deviations we found
-to be the two forms of polygamy--polyandry and polygyny. In the
-presence of these various marriage practices, firmly established
-family bonds are impossible. Striking evidence of the recedence of
-the family as compared with the social bond, is offered by the men's
-club, that widely prevalent institution of the totemic age. True, the
-individual member of the men's club may have his own wife who lives
-in her particular hut, but there is no common life of husband and
-wife such as is essential for a true family. In certain cases, of
-course, marriage conditions approximate somewhat more closely to a
-true family life, yet the development is hindered by the overshadowing
-polygyny. But the beginning of the political age marks the rise of a
-new form of monogamy. The _enlarged monogamous family_, the so-called
-ancient or joint family, makes its appearance. The joint family,
-which is characteristic of the heroic era, takes the place of the
-clan. Though the latter also survives for a time, it more and more
-loses its importance and finally disappears altogether. Now the clan,
-as well as the joint family, is composed of individuals of the same
-ancestry--that is, of blood relations, in the wider sense--even though,
-in exceptional cases, it also includes members of other clans or even
-tribal strangers. The recedence of the clan in favour of the joint
-family must therefore be regarded as a process in which a limited
-number of closer blood relatives separate from the clan and gradually
-attain the dominant influence within society. Such a development
-presupposes first of all a sharper demarcation of the individual
-family. Hence the joint family directly impresses one as being an
-extension of the individual family. As a rule, for example, a joint
-family includes _three_ generations: father, son, and grandchild.
-This series of generations terminates with the third, because the
-oldest male member retains the authority over the joint family only
-so long as there is no generation younger than grandchildren. Though
-a great-grandfather is honoured as the oldest member of the family,
-the authority over the joint family passes down to the son who has
-become a grandfather. Moreover, nature allows such cases as this but
-rarely. The life-span of three generations is approximately a century;
-and the average life of man is such that it happens but seldom that
-those who are living at any one time will outspan a century. Thus,
-the fact that the ancient family comprised three generations may
-be due to the natural limit of life, which does not seem to have
-changed essentially since the beginnings of civilization. The family
-organization under discussion, therefore, is characterized, in the
-first place, by monogamy; secondly, by the dominance of the man within
-the single family; and thirdly, by the inclusion of three generations
-under the authority of the oldest member of the family. This third
-characteristic has frequently caused the typical joint family to be
-called the '_patriarchal_ family.' Since it was true even of the clan
-that the older men exercised the decisive influence, the clan may
-be regarded as preparing the way for a patriarchal order. Such clan
-alliances, for example, as the Germanic kinship groups, in which the
-fact of the blood relationship of the members receives particularly
-strong emphasis, form a sort of transition between the clan and
-the joint family. In the joint family, it is no longer the older
-generation as such that is dominant, but the _oldest individual_.
-This change, as a result of which authority becomes vested in an
-individual, is paralleled by that which leads to individual rulership
-within the State. Thus, totemic tribal organization is doubly exposed
-to disintegration, from below and from above. On the one hand, the
-patriarchal joint family undermines the leadership of the clan-elders.
-On the other hand, the clans, together with the tribes whose divisions
-they form, are shorn of their power; they become fused into one
-group which, with the rise of political society, passes under the
-rulership of a single chieftain. It is particularly important to
-notice that, when the joint family emerges and clan organization is
-consequently dissolved, one of the most important functions of the
-more restricted clan alliances, so far as concerns the inner life
-of society, passes from the clan to the joint family. I refer to
-_blood-revenge_. Not until it underwent many changes did retribution
-come to be an affair of the State. Thus, the patriarchal family brings
-to completion a twofold series of changes, whose gradual beginnings
-may be discerned as early as the previous age. These are, in the first
-place, the displacement of maternal descent by _paternal descent_,
-and, secondly, the development of _chieftainship_. The latter at once
-concludes and annuls totemic tribal organization. The motives to the
-former show how untrue to the real nature of the difference between
-the two social institutions it is to speak of the contrast between
-mother_-right_ and father_-right_, or even between maternal _rule_
-and paternal _rule_, instead of referring to the transition as one
-from maternal _descent_ to paternal _descent_. Mother-right is to be
-found at most in a limited sense, as applying to certain rights of the
-kinship community and, connected with these, at a later time, to the
-inheritance of property; mother-_rule_ never occurs, or at most is an
-abnormal and exceptional phenomenon having scarcely any connection
-with maternal descent as such. The motives to maternal descent, as we
-have seen, are totally unrelated to the question of dominance within
-the family; they are the direct result of a separation of the sexes,
-which manifests itself likewise in the men's clubs. Paternal descent,
-on the other hand, is from the very outset based on paternal rule. In
-the form of father-right, paternal rule prevails even in the case of
-the primitive monogamous family. Its original source is the natural
-physical superiority of man; later, it derives its main strength
-from the fact--reflected also in the origin of chieftainship--that
-the general affairs of peace, as well as of war with hostile tribes,
-become subject to the authority of leaders. This latter factor comes
-to reinforce the former at that stage of development, particularly,
-which is characterized by the dissolution of totemic institutions and
-the re-emergence of the monogamous family. It is this change, together
-with the growing influence of chieftainship, that marks the beginning
-of the political age. Thus, the restoration of the monogamous family
-came as a result of political organization. The general course of
-development was the same everywhere, though the particular steps
-varied greatly. It was especially in connection with the rise of the
-patriarchal joint family, which is intermediate between the kinship
-group and the individual family, that obstructing influences sometimes
-manifested themselves. In such cases, the course of development was at
-once deflected directly towards the individual family. A patriarchal
-family organization of a sharply defined character appeared very early
-among many of the Semitic tribes, particularly among the Israelites.
-Of the Indo-Germanic peoples, it was especially the Romans who long
-preserved the patriarchal system; among the Greeks and the Germanic
-peoples, it had already disappeared in early times in favour of the
-single family. That which preserved the joint family was probably the
-force of tradition, coupled with reverence of age; the single family
-reflects a sense of freedom on the part of individuals. This brings out
-clearly the essential difference between the original monogamy, which
-was due to natural instinct and the simple conditions of primitive
-life, and the monogamy that was reinstituted as a result of the new
-tendencies of political society. In the former case, no progress was
-made beyond the natural starting-point, namely, the single family;
-in the latter case, the joint family mediated the transition between
-the dissolution of clans and the establishment of political society.
-Inasmuch as the acts of primitive man were largely determined by
-instincts, the original monogamy is not to be interpreted as conformity
-to a norm. The reason for the almost universal occurrence of monogamous
-marriage is to be found in the uniformity of the conditions of life
-and of the social impulses. The monogamy of the political age, on the
-other hand, is confronted by all those conflicting tendencies which
-had previously given rise to the various polygamous marriage-unions
-of totemic society. _One_ of these modes of marriage especially,
-namely, _polygyny_, finds favourable conditions of development in
-the new political order. It receives fresh impetus as a result of
-that very dominance of man which brought about the transition from
-the maternal descent of earlier times to paternal descent. Polyandry
-and group-marriage, on the other hand, have by this time disappeared,
-either entirely or, at least, with rare exceptions. Moreover,
-the character of polygyny has changed. This is apparent from the
-distinction between _chief wife_ and _secondary wife_--a distinction
-which has, indeed, an analogy in certain phenomena of the totemic
-period, but which, as a result of the conditions of public life,
-now rests upon an entirely different basis. The chief wife is taken
-from one's own tribe; the secondary wife belongs to a strange tribe,
-being, in many cases, a slave captured in war. Thus, these changes in
-polygyny reflect the warlike character of the age, as well as a growing
-tendency toward a return to monogamy. On the other hand, however, we
-also discern certain tendencies of a retrogressive nature. These occur
-particularly within Islamitic culture, whenever the difference between
-chief and secondary wives is either annulled or is subordinated to
-the will of the husband. Such deviations from the general trend of
-development are usually attributed to the influence of personalities.
-It is not impossible, however, that they are due in this case to the
-fact that Islamism spread to peoples of totemic culture. But in other
-departments of life also, remnants and traces of totemic culture have
-passed down to the heroic era. A striking example appears in the case
-of the Spartan State. The fact that the men lived in the city, engaged
-in military drill and political affairs, while the women, together with
-the slaves, cultivated the fields outside of the city, clearly betrays
-the influence of the ancient institution of the men's club.
-
-
-
-5. THE DIFFERENTIATION OF CLASSES.
-
-
-We have seen that the family assumes a new status within political
-society. It comes to be a compact unit, contrasting markedly with the
-groups composed of the same sex--in particular, the men's clubs--that
-dominated the preceding period. The _differentiation of classes_ was
-a no less potent factor in the development of political society. Its
-beginnings, no doubt, go back to the declining period of totemic tribal
-institutions, but only in the political age does it become an important
-influence in social organization. This is due to _two_ conditions,
-which are themselves the direct result of the folk migrations that
-mark the beginning of the political age. The first of these conditions
-consists in changes affecting property rights; the other, in the
-subjection of the native populations by the more energetic immigrants.
-The origin of property, as is well known, is even to-day generally
-traced, from an abstract juristic point of view, to the occupancy of an
-ownerless piece of land. This theory, however, is too abstract to be
-generally true. Above all, it presupposes the existence of ownerless
-land. But this is seldom to be found. Even when a migrating people
-occupies new lands, it, as a rule, conquers a territory that was
-previously in the possession of other tribes. If, therefore, we have in
-mind the sort of property that was most significant for the development
-of political culture, we should trace its origin to an _expropriation
-of earlier owners_ rather than to an occupation of ownerless land.
-Contradicting the abstract theory, moreover, is the fact that it is
-not the individual who becomes the owner of property through such
-occupation, but the _entire tribe_, the people that has immigrated and
-has dispossessed the original inhabitants. Property, therefore, was
-originally _common property_. True, even in early times, it was no
-longer all of the land that was held in common ownership. Nevertheless,
-the conditions of ownership that have emerged in the course of the
-development of political society give unmistakable evidence of having
-originated in common ownership. Even up to fairly recent times,
-woodland and meadow have remained, either entirely or in part, common
-property; usually there is also a special temple-property set apart
-for purposes of cult. Everything goes to show that these cases are to
-be regarded as remnants of a common property that was at one time more
-comprehensive, and not as the result of joining pieces of property
-that were at one time owned by individuals. The latter hypothesis is
-contradicted by the whole direction of development of private property.
-Interacting with changes in property rights are racial differences.
-The conquering immigrant peoples subjugate the native races or
-crowd them back. All the cultural peoples that possess a political
-organization are the product of folk mixtures. The subjugation of an
-original population may lead to varying results, depending on the
-racial difference between the peoples involved. If this difference
-is very great and the numerical relation makes the absorption of the
-one by the other impossible, there develops a distinction of castes,
-as in India, where the lower castes are clearly distinguishable from
-the higher, even as to physical characteristics. The situation is
-radically different where there is less divergence between the two
-populations. In such cases, racial distinctions do not occur, or at
-least only to a small extent; in their stead, we find differences with
-respect to property and power. The conquering race becomes a privileged
-class; those who are subjugated form a class of dependents who
-possess fewer rights. There is no impassable barrier between the two
-classes, however, as there is in the caste system. The more a fairly
-unitary folk-type emerges from the racial fusions, and the more other
-factors than descent come into prominence--such as common interest in
-internal order and external defence, or a remarkable personal ability
-on the part of individual leaders of the lower classes--the greater
-the tendency, on the one hand, towards the abolition of traditional
-differences, and, on the other, towards an increased recognition of
-personal achievement as the basis of social standing. Such social
-struggles as occurred in the history of Greece and Rome from their
-early days on, are particularly illuminating as regards this point, for
-they exhibit clearly the motives that were originally involved--motives
-that later everywhere become more complicated.
-
-From the very outset these motives exert a potent influence on property
-relations. The occupied territory first becomes the common property
-of the separate divisions of the immigrant tribe. The individual,
-however, vies with his tribal associates for the possession of the
-territory, and the new agricultural conditions connected with the
-introduction of cattle and of the plough favour division of the land.
-In addition to the superior ability of an immigrant race, it is its
-superior civilization that assures to it the supremacy over the native
-races. This superior civilization, however, involves a strong tendency
-toward individual industry, and thus toward the differentiation
-of personal property from common property. The success which the
-individual owner enjoys in his labour develops in him a consciousness
-of freedom, and this leads him to compete with his tribal associates
-both in the acquisition of property and in the attainment of power
-over the native population. Thus, the division of common property is
-succeeded by an inequality of personal property--an inequality which,
-from the very beginning, shows an unconquerable tendency to increase.
-This tendency is fostered by the fact that political organization
-makes it possible for individuals to exercise a certain control
-over common affairs. Property considerations become more and more
-decisive as regards class distinctions. In addition to descent from
-privileged ancestors, it is property that gives the individual his
-social position. An individual belonging to a people that at one time
-formed a class without rights, may rise to the ranks of the privileged
-classes, or, if the significance attached to birth continues to be
-maintained, he, together with those like him, may at any rate attain
-to an independent influence in public life. Property, however, not
-only affords increased rights; it also entails greater obligations.
-The wealthy possess a better military equipment, and are therefore
-enlisted in the more efficient, but also the more dangerous, divisions
-of the army. They are entrusted with leadership in war as well as
-with authority in times of peace. Individual initiative makes itself
-felt, and this, coupled with the opportunity for the exercise of such
-initiative, causes political development to appear, from an external
-point of view, as a series of separate voluntary acts on the part of
-individual personal leaders. This, however, is not the real truth of
-the situation so far as its inner motives are concerned. The heroic age
-is the epoch in which the action of the masses, impulsive and under
-the sway of environmental conditions, is more and more subjected to
-the direction of individual leaders who have become clearly conscious
-of the tendencies inherent in the social body. For this reason the
-heroic age is pre-eminently the _era of personalities_. Just as the
-personal god is dominant in mythology and religious cult, so the human
-personality plays the leading role in the State, and particular,
-outstanding individuals determine the conditions that regulate external
-life.
-
-As personality comes into prominence, however, conflicts inevitably
-arise between individuals who feel themselves called to be the vehicles
-of this personal power. Political society was not only created by war,
-but it also continues to remain a theatre where conflicts are fought
-with changing fortunes. Together with the effort to abolish class
-distinctions, moreover, there gradually comes a demand for equality
-of rights. As a result, the influence of dominating personalities,
-even though never eliminated, is more and more subject to changing
-conditions. Thus regarded, the general course of events is indicated
-by reference to _two_ phenomena: firstly, by the development of the
-State and of the judicial system, and, secondly, by the transformations
-which the character of the hero undergoes in the course of history. The
-first of these phenomena will presently be discussed in some detail;
-the second, which puts its stamp upon the particular periods of history
-in question, consists in the gradual displacement of the warrior-hero
-by the hero of peace. Even legend indicates that this is the sequence
-of the qualities that are supremely prized in personality. Thus, in the
-legend of the kings of Rome, the warlike Romulus, founder of the city,
-is followed by Numa Pompilius, the organizer of religious cult, who is
-succeeded in due time by the secular lawgiver, Servius Tullius. The
-warrior-hero appears first; he suggests the origin of political society
-in warfare. The founder of deity cults is his immediate successor. The
-lawgiver, or the political hero in the true sense of the word, stands
-at the zenith of the age. The warrior initiates, whereas the legislator
-completes the organization of society. Then commences the age of
-citizenship, which no longer entertains a hero-ideal as such but,
-instead, prizes civic virtues. On this plane of culture, the general
-demands of political life and of cult are augmented by the particular
-duties which grow out of the position which the individual occupies
-within society. The position itself is conditioned primarily by the
-rise of _differences of vocation._
-
-
-
-6. THE DIFFERENTIATION OF VOCATIONS.
-
-
-The above discussion will already have indicated the general
-significance of the differentiation of vocations in the development of
-political society. While the origin of classes is coincident with the
-rise of the State, separate vocations appear only at its zenith. At
-first there were no distinctions of vocation. The pursuits of war and
-politics were common to all free men; and, while admitting of class
-distinctions, they allowed no vocational differences. The priesthood
-alone represented a class which followed a specific vocation, while
-also engaging in other occupations, particularly in politics. The
-earliest forms of specialized vocations were foreshadowed even in
-the totemic age. In the heroic period, they merely adapt themselves
-to the new social order resulting from the rise of a ruling class
-and the consequent class distinctions. Under the influence of deity
-cults, moreover, the social position of the priesthood changes, as
-do also its vocational practices. The transformations in cult are an
-important factor in elevating the class and the profession concerned
-in its administration, securing for them a more or less important, and
-in some cases a dominant, influence upon political life. In contrast
-with this, all forms of human labour not connected with politics and
-warfare are _degraded_. This results in occupational differences,
-which are henceforth closely bound up with class distinctions. The
-depreciation of which we speak, however, is not of sudden occurrence,
-nor does it appear everywhere to the same extent. The conditions that
-give rise to political society also involve a participation in the
-pursuits of politics and warfare on the part of the freeman, who, as an
-agriculturist, breeds his own domestic animals and guides his plough
-over the fields. Due to these same conditions, moreover, agriculture
-maintains a respected position even in later times, partly, no doubt,
-as a result of the fact that the free farmer continues to enjoy the
-privilege of participating in political and military affairs. Various
-accessory vocations come to be sundered out from the tasks of the early
-agriculturist, who, originally, himself manufactured the implements
-required for his work and was thus the primitive artisan. Political
-activity and the equally esteemed military vocation come more and more
-to be given the place of highest honour. The occupation of the farmer
-and that of the wealth-accumulating merchant, however, are also held
-in high regard, doubtless because of the growing desire for property.
-The independent task of the artisan, as well as art--the latter at
-first scarcely distinguishable from artisanship--are either left to the
-dependent population and slaves or, after class distinctions are well
-developed, are given over to the lower class of citizens as occupations
-of less esteem.
-
-But in the case of vocational distinctions, just as in that of class
-differentiation, the process of depreciation is succeeded by a tendency
-toward _equalization_. This is due to a general shift in values.
-The rhapsodist of Homeric times, though welcomed as a guest by the
-superior classes, was not himself regarded by them as a companion
-of equal rank. It is only gradually that the value placed on an art
-becomes transferred to the artist himself. That this occurs is due
-in an important measure to the fact that the arts of outstanding
-significance--gymnastics, poetry, and music--are not practised merely
-by a specific profession, but are also favourite occupations of
-the warrior or the statesman in his hours of leisure. The respect
-accorded the artist is gradually extended to such other arts as
-already constitute vocational labour; as external culture becomes
-more refined, even the artisan wins a growing esteem, through his
-decoration of weapons, implements, and clothing. In the case of the
-arts that require a particularly high degree of vocational training, it
-is significant to note that, in spite of the high estimate placed on
-his product, the artist himself is able to rise but slowly above the
-plane of the mere artisan. Thus, the measure of esteem accorded to the
-arts gradually diminishes, according as we pass from those that spring
-up spontaneously, solely from inner impulse, to those that minister to
-the satisfaction of needs. The immediate cause for this gradation of
-values probably lies in the fact that political activity, which here
-forms the mediating link, is itself of the nature of a free vocation,
-requiring the exercise particularly of mental capacities. For this
-reason, however, the regard in which the various occupations are held
-tends to be equalized according as class distinctions disappear. The
-latter, however, occurs in proportion as all citizens come to acquire
-equal privileges in the exercise of political rights. To the majority,
-indeed, political activity remains but a secondary vocation, being
-overshadowed by the main occupation, which requires the greater amount
-of attention. Because of its political character, however, it is the
-secondary vocation that primarily determines the social position of the
-individual. The fact that all citizens come to participate in political
-activity, therefore, even though failing to equalize the esteem in
-which the various occupations were held, nevertheless caused the
-disappearance of the distinctions in personal status which occupational
-differences originally involved.
-
-
-
-7. THE ORIGIN OF CITIES.
-
-
-The differentiation of classes and vocations is conditioned, in a large
-measure, by a change in the spacial distribution of the population.
-This change is a result of the rise of political society, and comes
-to be the outstanding external characteristic of the State as soon
-as the latter begins to assume definite form. I have in mind the
-_foundation of cities_. In the totemic age, there were no cities,
-but at most fair-sized groups of huts or houses, forming villages.
-These village settlements were all equally independent; they differed
-at most as regards spacial extent. But the city, in its _original_
-form, always exercised control over a smaller or larger stretch of
-territory, consisting either of separate farms or of villages with
-the territory belonging to them. As the seat of political power, the
-city was an infallible indication of the existence of the State. Hence
-it is that those who discuss the original forms of political society
-are not infrequently led to regard State and city as identical. Such
-an identification, however, is not at all justifiable. Even in their
-beginnings the Greek States and the Roman State were not mere city
-States; all that may be said is that the political power was centred
-in the city. This is true, also, of the original city as it existed in
-the Orient and in the ancient civilizations of Mexico and Peru. The
-same characteristic distinguishes the early city from the many later
-sorts of cities that arose in response to the needs of intercourse and
-trade. The original city was the abode of the political and military
-leaders of the people who occupied the new territory and thus formed
-a State. This appears most strikingly in the case of Sparta--the
-State which preserved most fully the features of an earlier form of
-social organization. One might almost be inclined to say that the
-men's club developed by totemic tribal organization was here present
-in the form of a city of men established within a political order.
-But even in Athens and in the other Greek States the city was only
-the seat of the political power, whereas the State embraced the
-adjacent territory as well. The centre of the city, therefore, was
-the castle. This constituted the military defence of the State, and
-was the dwelling of the king or, in republican forms of government,
-of the highest officials. Connected with the castle was the temple
-of the guardian deity of the city. The immediate environment of the
-temple was the meeting-place of those who inhabited the territory
-protected by the castle and its temple. Here they assembled, partly
-for trade and partly for deliberative or popular gatherings. The
-economic and political intercourse which centred about the castle
-fostered the growth of a larger city, inasmuch as numbers of the rural
-inhabitants gradually settled down under the close protection of the
-castle. Directly connected with this development was the separation
-from agriculture of the occupations of art, handicraft, trade, and
-eventually of political office. Because of their enormous extent, the
-great Oriental realms included a number of city centres. Yet even
-here the original conditions maintained themselves, inasmuch as _one_
-of these cities continued to be not only the political seat of the
-State but also the chief centre of cult. The guardian deity of the
-leading city was likewise the guardian deity of the State, and, as
-such, was supreme among the gods. Cult was thus patterned after the
-political order. This influence of the city upon cult was reflected
-in temple construction. The totemic age possessed no cities, and it
-likewise lacked temples. Temples, therefore, are not only indicative
-of deity cult, whose development is bound up with political society,
-but they also signalize the existence of cities. The temple itself was
-characterized by a very rich architecture. In Babylonia it was the
-mighty tower, in Egypt the pair of obelisks at the entrance, which
-proclaimed to the surrounding neighbourhood the dwelling-place of the
-deity and the seat of political power. The two were identical, for it
-was in the name of the guardian deity of the city that the State was
-originally governed and that justice was meted out. In Oriental realms,
-the ruler was the representative of the deity, and the priests were the
-State officials, as well as the devotees of science and art. Tradition,
-together with numerous usages preserved in custom and laws, testify
-to the same original unification of religious and political authority
-in Greece and Rome. Although the State here became secularized at
-a comparatively early time, and art and science likewise freed
-themselves from theocratic dominance, the idea of a guardian deity
-of the city and State was long maintained. It was this that invested
-the secularized legal system with a halo of sanctity. If the course
-of development in Greece and Rome differed from that of the Oriental
-realms, this may be due, in an important measure, to the fact that they
-very early broke up into a considerable number of independent city
-States. Herein, of course, is expressed the character of Indo-Germanic
-peoples. Even in very ancient times they manifested a disposition to
-allow free play to the assertion of the individual personality; this
-differentiates them from the Semitic race, with its strong inclination
-to hold fast to traditional norms. Hence it is that, while the cult
-of the various Greek cities remained practically the same, the cities
-themselves became distinct political communities. The status of the
-Delphic priesthood, in whom this unity of cult very early found its
-expression, was therefore naturally reduced to that of an advisory
-council. In the individual States, the dominance of political interests
-and the struggle for power, which was heightened by the personal
-inter-relationships within the narrow circle of the city, deprived
-the priesthood of all authority except over cult. True, in the case
-of Rome, the original union of political order and religious cult was
-firmer and more permanent, due to the fact that _one_ city early gained
-the supremacy over the other Italian cities and States. And yet, hand
-in hand with the extension of political dominance, went the adoption of
-cults that were previously strange. This led to a number of competing
-priest-associations, none of which could gain the leadership, since all
-alike were but servants of the political power.
-
-Thus, in spite of considerable diversity as to incidental conditions,
-city and State were closely bound up with each other in the development
-of political society. We find no city apart from a State, and it is
-doubtful whether there was a State without a city as the seat and
-centre of its political power. But this correlation obtained only
-during the period of the genesis of States and of the attendant rise
-of the _original_ city. Once States have come into existence, many
-other conditions may lead to the establishment of a community which, as
-regards extent and relative political independence, is of the nature
-of a city. Such phenomena may be referred to as the _secondary_
-foundation of cities; they are possible only on the basis of a
-previously existing political society. An approximation to original
-conditions occurs when a victorious State either establishes cities
-in the conquered provinces, centralizing in them the power over the
-respective territories, or transforms cities that already exist into
-political centres. Occurrences of this sort were frequent during the
-extension of Alexander's world-dominion and at the time of the Roman
-Empire. The same fact may be observed at a later period, in connection
-with the occupation of the Italian cities by the Goths and Lombards.
-The German cities founded during the Middle Ages differ still more
-widely from the original type. These cities first arose as market
-centres, and then gradually acquired political privileges. Thus, the
-process of the original foundation of cities was, as it were, reversed.
-In the latter case, the castle came first and the market followed;
-the mediaeval city began as a market and reached its completion with
-the building of a castle. In mediaeval times, however, leadership was
-not originally vested in the city but in rulers who occupied isolated
-estates scattered here and there throughout the country. Yet these
-secondary phenomena and their further development do not belong to our
-present problem of the origin of political society.
-
-
-
-8. THE BEGINNINGS OF THE LEGAL SYSTEM.
-
-
-The social regulations which we have thus far considered find their
-consummation in the _legal system_. This possesses no content
-independent of the various social institutions, but merely provides
-certain norms of action with a social sanction. As a result, these
-norms are protected against violation or are designated as regulations
-which, whenever necessary, are defended against violators by the
-use of external force. Thus, the legal system does not involve the
-outright creation of a social order. It consists primarily in the
-singling out, as definite prescriptions, of certain regulations
-that have already arisen in the course of social life, and that are
-for the most part already maintained by custom. The enforcement
-of these regulations is expressly guaranteed by society, and means
-are established whereby this pledge is to be redeemed. Thus, the
-most important social institutions--the family, the classes, the
-vocations, village settlements and cities, and also the relations of
-property, intercourse, and contract, which these involve--were already
-in existence before becoming constituent parts of a legal system.
-Moreover, the advance beyond custom and the settlement of difficulties
-case by case was not made suddenly or, much less, at the same time in
-all regions, but came only very gradually. The formulation of laws did
-not, as a rule, begin in connection with the political community and
-then pass down to the more restricted groups, ending with the single
-individual. On the contrary, law began by regulating the intercourse of
-individuals; later, it acquired authority over family relations, which
-had remained under the shelter of custom for a relatively long period;
-last of all, it asserted itself also over the political order. That
-is to say, the State, which is the social organization from which the
-legal system took its rise, was the very last institution in connection
-with which objective legal forms were developed. We may account for
-this by reference to a factor which played an important role from the
-very outset. After the legal system had once grown up out of custom
-and had subjected many of the important fields of the latter to its
-authority, it was able of itself to create regulations, which were
-thus from the very beginning legal prescriptions. Such primarily legal
-regulations arose in connection with conditions in which, frequently,
-the fact that there be some law was of more importance than the precise
-character of the law. But even in these cases the regulations were
-always connected with the larger body of law that was rooted in custom.
-This larger body of law was but supplemented by ordinances that were
-called into being by temporal and cultural conditions.
-
-The transition from custom to law reflects the joint influence of
-_two_ factors, which, particularly at the outset, were themselves
-closely connected. The first of these factors consists in the rise
-of firmly established forms of rulership, which are indicative also
-of the transition leading to _States_; the other is the _religious_
-sanction which was attached to those regulations that were singled out
-by the law from the broader field of custom. Both factors indicate
-that the heroic age properly marks the origin of the legal system,
-even though it be true that all such changes are gradual and that
-occasional beginnings of the legal system, therefore, may be found at
-an earlier period, in connection with the very ancient institution
-of chieftainship. As regards the external social organization and
-the religious life of the heroic age, these are characterized,
-respectively, by the development of strict forms of rulership and by
-the origin of a deity cult. Each of these social phenomena reinforces
-the other. The kingdom of the gods was but the terrestrial State
-projected into an ideal sphere. No less was the development of the
-legal system dependent upon the union of the two factors. Neither the
-external force of the political authority governing the individual nor
-the inner constraint of religious duty sufficed in itself to establish
-the tremendous power characteristic of the legal system from early
-times on. It is true that, at a later period, the feeling that law
-represents a religious duty gave way to the moral law of conscience.
-The latter, however, itself owes its origin to the increasing influence
-of the political authority which is at the basis of the legal system;
-moreover, as an inner motive reinforcing the external compulsion of
-the law, it continued to preserve a similarity to the religious source
-from which it sprang. True, a significant change occurred. During the
-early stages of legal development, the weight of emphasis fell on
-the religious aspect of law, whereas it later more and more shifted
-to the political side. At first, the entire body of law was regarded
-as having been given directly by the deity, as was the case, for
-example, with the Ten Commandments of Moses and with the Israelitic
-Priests' Code, which clothes even the most external modes of life
-in the garb of religious commands. Sometimes a twofold credit is
-given for the introduction of the legal system, in that the one who
-wields the power is regarded as administering justice both in his own
-name and as commissioned by the gods. An illustration of this is the
-Babylonian code of Hammurabi. It is, naturally, when the priests wield
-the authority that the laws are most apt to be ascribed exclusively to
-the gods. The tendency, on the other hand, to give the ruler a certain
-amount of credit for legislative enactments, is greatest whenever the
-ruler occupies also the position of chief priest. The direct impetus to
-such a union of priesthood and political authority is to be found in
-the rise of the legal system itself, for this resulted from a fusion
-of religious and political motives. The idea that the earthly ruler
-is the terrestrial representative of a world-governing deity, or, as
-occurs in extreme cases, that he is the world-governing deity himself,
-is, therefore, a conception that is closely bound up with the rise of
-political society and that receives pregnant expression in the earliest
-forms of the legal system. No trace of such a conception was associated
-with the chiefs of the totemic period. Their position was entirely
-distinct from that of the magicians, the shamans, and the medicine-men,
-who were the original representatives of the priestly class that
-later arose in the age of deity cults. But it is for this very reason
-that the mandates of the totemic chief cannot be said as yet to have
-constituted a legal system; they were commands which were given as
-occasion demanded, and which were determined partly by the will of
-the chief and partly by transmitted customs. Secular and religious
-motives are to be found in similar combination elsewhere, even among
-tribes that are usually regarded as peoples of nature, as, for example,
-particularly those of Polynesia. In cases such as these, however,
-there are present also the beginnings of a legal system, as well as
-its correlates, the fundamentals of a political organization and of
-a deity cult. Whether these are the remnants of a culture brought by
-these migratory peoples from their original Asiatic home, or whether
-they represent an independently achieved culture that has fallen into
-decay, we need not here inquire.
-
-That the development of the legal system is dependent upon the first
-of these phenomena--that is, upon political organization--is directly
-apparent from the fact that the administration of justice in general
-presupposes two sources of authority. Here again the beginnings are to
-be found in the totemic age. During this period, the administration
-of justice was vested, in the first place, in a relatively restricted
-group of the older and experienced men, such as exercised authority
-over the older members of the horde even in pretotemic times. Judicial
-powers were assumed, in the second place, by individual leaders in
-the chase or in war. The authority of the latter, it is true, was
-temporary, frequently shifting with changing circumstances; it was all
-the more effective, however, for the very reason that it was centred
-in single individuals. Now, the initial step in the formation of a
-legal system--which, as already remarked, was at first concerned merely
-with what we would call civil justice--was taken when the quarrels
-of individuals came to be settled in the same way as were matters of
-common concern to the clan or tribe--namely, by the decisions of the
-two long-established authorities, the 'council of elders,' as they
-later continued to be called among many civilized peoples, and the
-individual leader or chieftain. Even in relatively primitive times,
-fellow-tribesmen or clansmen who disagreed as to the ownership of an
-object or perhaps as to whether or not some mutual agreement had been
-kept, and who preferred a peaceful decision to settlement by combat,
-were accustomed to seek the decision of the elders or of a man of
-commanding respect. Thus, these initial stages of legal procedure
-indicate that the earliest judge was an _arbitrator_; he was freely
-selected by the disputants, though he constantly became more firmly
-established in his position as a result both of his authority in
-the general affairs of the tribe and of tradition. We next find the
-_appointed_ judge, who owes his office to political authority, and who
-decides particular controversies, not because he has been asked to do
-so by the parties themselves but 'of right' and as commissioned by
-the State; supported as he is by the political power, his decision has
-compelling force. As soon as the State assumes the function of deciding
-the controversies of individuals, the judge becomes an _official_.
-Indeed, he is one of the first representatives of officialdom. For,
-in the early stages of political organization, all matters other than
-the quarrels of individuals are regulated by ancient customs, except
-in so far as war and the preparation for war involve conditions that
-necessarily place authority of an entirely different sort in the hands
-of particular individuals. Thus, together with the offices of those
-who, though only gradually, come to have charge of the maintenance of
-the military organization even in times of peace, the office of the
-judiciary represents one of the earliest of political creations. In
-it, we find a parallel to the division of power between the ruler and
-a separate council of experienced men, an arrangement that represents
-a legacy from the period of tribal organization, but that only now
-becomes firmly established. The individual judge and the college of
-judges both occur so early that it is scarcely possible to say whether
-either antedated the other. Affecting the development just described
-are two other conditions, capable of bringing about a division of
-judicial authority at an early time. One of these conditions is the
-connection of the state with deity cult, as a result of which the
-secular power is limited by the authority of the priesthood, whose
-chief prerogative comes to be penal justice. The second factor in the
-differentiation of judicial functions consists in the institution of
-chieftainship, one of the two characteristic features of political
-society. Chieftainship involves a tendency towards a delegation of
-the supreme judicial authority to the ruler. This is particularly the
-case during the first stages of political organization, which still
-reflect the fact that the external political power of the chieftain
-grew up out of the conditions attendant upon war. Even though the
-secular judiciary, which originated in the council of elders, or, in
-certain cases, the judicial office of the priest, also continues
-to be maintained, the ruler nevertheless reserves for himself the
-authority over the most important issues. Particularly in doubtful
-cases, in which the ordinary judge has no traditional norms to guide
-his decision, the 'king's court' intervenes in order, if necessary,
-to secure a recognition of the claim of reasonableness. This is
-especially apt to occur in connection with capital crimes. Hence it
-is that, even after penal law has once become a matter of general
-governmental control--which, as a rule, occurs only at a later stage of
-legal development--the final decision in criminal cases usually rests
-with the ruler. Generally, moreover, it is the ruler alone who has
-sufficient power to put an end to the blood-revenge demanded by kinship
-groups. Owing to the fact that, in his capacity of military leader,
-the ruler possesses power over life and death during war with hostile
-tribes, he comes to exercise the same authority in connection also with
-the feuds of his fellow-tribesmen. Modern States have retained a last
-remnant of this power in the monarch's right to pardon, an erratic
-phenomenon of a culture that has long since disappeared.
-
-Thus, the State, as such, possesses an external power which finds
-its most direct expression--just as does the unity of the State--in
-the exercise of judicial authority on the part of the ruler. In the
-beginnings of legal development, however, law always possesses also
-a _religious sanction_. True, the above-mentioned unification of
-the offices of priest and judge or of the authority of priest and
-ruler--the latter of which sometimes occurs in connection with the
-former--may be the result of particular cultural conditions. This,
-however, but indicates all the more forcibly how permanent has been
-the religious sanction of law. Such a sanction is evidenced by the
-words and symbolisms that accompany legal procedure even in the case
-of secular judges and of the relations of individuals themselves. Not
-without significance, for example, is the solemnity manifested in the
-tones of those who are party to a barter, a contract, or an assignment
-of property. Indeed, their words are usually accompanied by express
-confirmations resembling the formulas of prayer and imprecation; the
-gods are invoked as witnesses of the transaction or as avengers of
-broken pledges. Because of the solemnity of the spoken word, speech was
-displaced but slowly by writing. Long after the latter art had been
-acquired, its use continued to be avoided, not only in the case of
-legal formulas, such as the above, but occasionally even in connection
-with more general legal declarations. In the Brahman schools of India,
-for example, the rules of legal procedure, as well as the hymns and
-prayers, were for centuries transmitted purely through memory; we are
-told, moreover, that in ancient Sparta it was forbidden to put the laws
-in writing. To an age, however, which is incapable of conceiving even a
-legal transaction except as a perceptual act, the spoken word by itself
-is inadequate to give the impression of reality. As an indication
-that he has acquired a piece of land, the purchaser lifts a bit of
-soil from the earth, or the vendor tosses a stalk of grain to him--a
-ceremony which is imitated in the case of other objects of exchange and
-which has led to the word 'stipulation' (from the Latin _stipulatio_,
-throwing of a stalk). Another symbol of acquisition is the laying on of
-the hand. Similar to it is the clasp of right hands as a sign of mutual
-agreement. By this act the contracting parties pledge their freedom
-in case they break the promise which they are giving. When the fact
-that the two parties lived at some distance from each other rendered
-the hand clasp impossible, the Germans were accustomed to exchange
-gloves. One who challenged another to a duel likewise did so by the
-use of a glove, even though his opponent was present. By throwing
-his glove before his opponent the challenger gave expression to the
-distance which separated him in feeling from his enemy. In this case,
-the symbol has changed from a sign of agreement to the opposite. All
-the symbols of which we have been speaking agree in having originally
-been regarded, not as symbols, but as real acts possessing certain
-magical potencies. When an individual, who is acquiring a piece of
-land, picks up a bit of soil while speaking the appropriate words, he
-intends to produce a magical effect upon the land, such that disaster
-will come to any one who may seek to deprive him of it. He who offers
-his hand in sealing a compact signifies that he is prepared to lose his
-freedom in case he fails to keep his word. For this reason the shaking
-of hands is sometimes supplemented by the extension of a staff--a
-special use of the magical wand which occurs particularly when the
-pledge is administered by a judge. In a second stage of development,
-the act loses the status of reality, but it remains associated with
-religious feelings. At a third stage, it becomes a mere matter of form,
-though the solemnity with which it envelops the transaction adds to the
-impressiveness of the latter and fixes it more firmly in memory.
-
-Combined with the word, thus, is a gesture that faithfully reflects its
-meaning. Moreover, other individuals are summoned to witness the legal
-transaction. This is done, not so much that these persons may later
-be able to give definite testimony, as that they, too, shall hear the
-word and see the gesture, and so, in a sense, enhance the reality of
-that which is transpiring. Besides this oldest form of witness, who is
-not to testify regarding that which he has experienced, as occurs in
-later times, but who is merely present on the occasion of the legal
-transaction, there is the _compurgator_, who substantiates the oath
-of the man involved. The latter fortifies his statements by invoking
-the gods as witnesses. Now, the oath of the compurgator does not
-relate to the testimony of his companion, but merely to the companion
-himself; it is a pledge to share the punishment of the latter in case
-he swears falsely. As in battle, so also in calling upon the terrible
-powers whose vengeance is to fall upon the perjurer, companion stands
-protectingly by the side of companion. Thus, the oath itself is a
-ceremony both of cult and of magic. As a cult activity, the oath was
-originally given at the place where the cult was administered--that
-is, in the immediate presence of the gods; the method of procedure
-was to raise the fingers and to point them directly to the gods, who
-were regarded as witnesses of the act. The magical nature of the
-oath appears in the fact that the latter involved the conjuration of
-an object, which was to bring disaster upon him who took the oath in
-case he swore falsely. Thus, the Germans swore by their battle-steeds
-or their weapons, and, in so doing, they laid their hands upon these
-objects; or, instead of the latter, they used an oath-staff--one of the
-numerous metamorphoses of the magical wand--which was extended toward
-him who received the oath, whether the opposing party or the judge.
-This oath signified that the object by which the individual swore would
-bring ruin upon him in case he committed perjury. The oath, therefore,
-came to be a fixed and definitely prescribed means of judicial
-procedure, though this occurred only after deity cult effected a union
-of the two factors, cult and magic. Nevertheless, the beginnings of
-this development are to be found as early as the totemic age, and
-they approximate to the cult-oath particularly in those regions that
-practise ancestor worship. The Bantu, for example, swears by the head
-of his father or the cap of his mother, as well as by the colour of his
-ox. In all these cases, the intention is that the perjurer shall suffer
-the vengeance which the demon of the deceased or of the animal visits
-upon him who swears falsely.
-
-Closely related in its motives to the oath is another legal
-institution, the _ordeal_. In the earliest form of the ordeal, the
-strife of individuals was settled by a duel. Such an ordeal was very
-similar to the sword-oath, at least among Indo-Germanic peoples. Just
-as the man who swore by his weapons invoked death by their agency
-in the indefinite future, so each of the participants in the duel
-sought to bring these magical powers into immediate effect in the
-case of his opponent. Not to him whose arm is the stronger, but to
-him who has the stronger cause, will the gods grant victory through
-the magic of his weapon. Like the oath, therefore, the ordeal was
-originally a method of legal procedure in civil cases. Like the oath,
-furthermore, it was, in its beginnings, a means whereby individuals
-settled their controversies independently of a judge. It is at this
-point that the punitive action of individuals gives way to public
-legal procedure. Originally, crimes against life and property were
-dealt with by individuals; the endeavour to secure the judgment of the
-gods by means of the duel was doubtless one of the earliest steps by
-which the penal process became a public procedure, and the punishment
-itself, therefore, became raised above the plane of mere revenge. Blood
-revenge involved an unexpected attack in the open or from ambush. To
-renounce this custom in favour of the duel, therefore, was in harmony
-with the character of the heroic age. For this was the period in which
-the ideal of manly honour was rapidly gaining strength, and in which,
-therefore, it was regarded as unworthy under any circumstances to take
-the life of a defenceless man. The principle accepted as self-evident
-in war, namely, that the person attacked have an opportunity to defend
-himself, became, in a warlike age, a maxim applying also to times
-of peace. Moreover, even though it be true of the ordeal as of the
-oath that, at the outset, cult was secondary to magical conjuration,
-nevertheless, the dominance of the latter varied with the degree in
-which the State freed penal justice from the passion for revenge on
-the part of individuals. The ordeal thus came to be more than merely a
-combat between the accuser and the accused. The judge in charge of the
-combat acquired the duty of determining guilt or innocence, and, as a
-result, the ordeal assumed other forms. Only the one who was accused
-was now involved. The ordeal changed from a magic combat into a _magic
-test_, which came to be regarded as a direct revelation of the decision
-of the deity. This led to the adoption of means of proof other than
-combat. It was obviously cult that caused penal justice as such to be
-taken out of the hands of private individuals. For this reason it was
-particularly sacrilege that demanded a magical judgment independent of
-the combat of individuals. In cases of sacrilege, the deity himself
-tested the assertions of the one who endeavoured to free himself from
-the charges of religious crime. The means for determining guilt or
-innocence were fire and water--the same agencies that had long been
-employed by religious cult for purposes of lustration. That the tests
-by water and by fire used in connection with the witchcraft cases of
-mediaeval times still possessed a magical significance is unmistakable.
-If the witch sank in the water--that is, if she was received by the
-purifying element--she was guiltless. If the accused was not injured by
-holding a glowing iron in his hand or by walking barefooted over coals,
-this also was regarded as indicative of innocence. Apparently the
-underlying conception was that the deity who gave to water and fire the
-power of purifying a sinner from his guilt also communicated to them
-the power of freeing the innocent from an accusation and of withholding
-assistance from the guilty. Hence it is that while these modes of
-divine judgment were not, indeed, as common as was purification by
-means of water and fire, they nevertheless appeared again and again,
-so far as their fundamental characteristics are concerned. They were
-resorted to by the Germanic peoples, and were prevalent also in
-Graeco-Roman antiquity, and in India; trial by water was likewise a
-custom in Babylonia, where it was prescribed by Hammurabi as a means by
-which a suspected person might free himself. We have noticed how, in
-the case of the ordeal and particularly of its earliest form, judicial
-combat, the legal controversies of individuals concerning rights
-relating to property, buying and selling and other agreements, came
-to be considered from the standpoint of _punishment_. This process is
-characteristic of the development of penal law in general.
-
-
-
-9. THE DEVELOPMENT OF PENAL LAW.
-
-
-As an institution protected by the State, the administration of penal
-law everywhere grew up out of civil law. The judge who was appointed by
-the State to arbitrate personal controversies developed into a criminal
-judge. Still later these two judicial offices became distinct. This
-separation began in connection with the most serious offences, such
-as seemed to demand a separate tribunal. The determining feature, in
-this instance, was, at the outset, not any qualitative characteristic
-of the offence but its gravity. Now, at the time when deity cults
-were at their zenith, the most serious crimes were held to be those
-connected with religion, namely, temple sacrilege and blasphemy. Only
-at a relatively late period were crimes against life and limb classed
-along with those affecting religion; to these were added, shortly
-afterwards, violations of property rights. That murder, though the
-most frequent crime of early culture, should not be penalized by
-political authority until so late a period, is directly due to the
-fact that it has its origin in the strife of individuals. In such a
-strife, each man personally assumes all consequences, even though
-these consist in the loss of his life. Even to slay a man from ambush
-is regarded as justifiable by primitive society if an individual is
-avenging a crime from which he has suffered. As family and kinship
-ties become stronger, the family or kin participates as a group in the
-quarrels of its individual members, just as it does in war against
-hostile tribes. A murder, whether or not it be an act of vengeance, is
-avenged by a fellow-member of the victim, either upon the murderer or
-upon some one of his kin, inasmuch as in this case also the group is
-regarded as taking the part of the individual. This is the practice
-of _blood-revenge_, a practice which antedates the heroic age but
-which nevertheless continues to exercise a powerful influence upon it.
-Blood-revenge is so closely bound up with totemic tribal organization
-that it was probably never lacking wherever any such system arose.
-Its status, however, was purely that of a custom, not that of a
-legal requirement. It was custom alone, and not political authority,
-that compelled one kinsman to avenge the death of another. It was
-custom also that sought to do away with the disastrous results of a
-continuous blood-feud by means of an arrangement that came to take
-the place of blood-revenge. This substitute was the 'wergild,' which
-was paid as an indemnity by the malefactor to the family of the one
-who had been murdered, and which thus maintained precisely the same
-relation to blood-revenge as did marriage by purchase to marriage by
-capture. In the former case, however, the substitution of a peaceful
-agreement for an act of violence gave the political authority its first
-occasion to exercise its regulative power. This first manifestation of
-power consisted in the fact that the political authority determined
-the amount which must be paid in lieu of the blood-guilt. With the
-institution of wergild the entire matter becomes one of civil law. Only
-one further step is necessary, and the law of contract will indirectly
-have established the penal authority of the State. This step is taken
-when the State _compels_ the parties to enter into an agreement on
-the basis of the wergild. The advance, however, was not made at a
-single bound, but came only through the influence of a number of
-intermediate factors. That which first demanded a legal determination
-of the amount of expiation money was the necessity of estimating the
-personal value of the one who had been murdered, according as the
-individual was free-born or dependent, of a high or of a low class, an
-able-bodied man or a woman. Such a gradation in terms of general social
-status suggested the propriety of allowing temporary and less serious
-injuries to life and limb to be compensated for on the basis of their
-magnitude. But the estimation of damages in such cases again made civil
-jurisdiction absolutely necessary.
-
-Closely interconnected with this complex of social factors, and
-imposing a check upon the impulse for vengeance that flames up in
-blood-revenge, was a religious influence--the fear of contaminating
-by a deed of violence a spot that was sanctified by the presence of
-invisible gods. No violence of any kind was allowed within sacred
-precincts, particularly in places set apart for sacrifice or for
-other cult ceremonies; least of all was violence tolerated in the
-temple, for the temple was regarded as the dwelling of a deity. Such
-places, therefore, afforded protection to all who fled to them from
-impending blood-revenge or other sources of danger. The sacred place
-also stood under the protection of the community; any violation of
-it brought down upon the offender the vengeance of the entire group,
-for the latter regarded such sacrilege as a source of common danger.
-Thus, the protection of the _sanctuary_ came to be a legal right
-even at a time when retribution for the crime itself was left to the
-vengeance of individuals. The right of protection afforded by the
-temple, however, was sometimes held to exist also in the case of the
-dwellings of persons of distinguished power and esteem, particularly
-the dwellings of the chief and of the priest. Indeed, prior to the
-existence of public temples, the latter were doubtless the only places
-of refuge. In this form, the beginnings of a right of refuge date back
-even into the totemic age. At that early time, however, the protection
-was apparently due, not so much to directly religious factors, as
-to the personal power of the individual who afforded the refuge, or
-also, particularly in Polynesia, to the 'taboo' with which the upper
-classes were privileged to guard their property. But, since the taboo
-was probably itself of religious origin, and since the medicine-man,
-and occasionally also the chief, could utilize demoniacal agencies as
-well as his own external power, even the very earliest forms of refuge
-were of the general nature of religious protection. In some cases, the
-right of refuge eventually became extended so as to be connected not
-only with the property set apart for the chief or the priest but also
-with the homes of inferior men. This, however, was a relatively late
-phenomenon. Its origin is traceable to the cult of household deities,
-first of the ancestral spirits who guard domestic peace, and then of
-the specific protective deities of the hearth by whom the ancestral
-spirits were supplanted. As a rule, it was not the criminal but the
-visiting stranger who sought the protection of the house. The right
-to hospitality thus became also a religiously sanctioned right to
-protection. The guest was no less secure against the host himself than
-against all others. The right of protection afforded by the house,
-therefore, should probably be interpreted as a transference of the
-right of refuge inherent in sacred precincts. The protective right
-of the chief was doubtless the beginning of what in its complete
-development came to be household right in general.
-
-The divine protection afforded by the sanctuary obviously offers but a
-temporary refuge from the avenger. The fugitive again encounters the
-dangers of blood-revenge as soon as he leaves the sacred precincts.
-Nevertheless, the time that is thus made to elapse between the act
-and its reprisal tempers the passion of the avenger, and affords an
-opportunity for negotiations in which the hostile families or clans
-may arrange that a ransom be paid in satisfaction of the crime that
-was committed. Moreover, the chief or the temple priest under whose
-protection the fugitive places himself, is given a direct opportunity
-for mediating in the capacity of an arbitrating judge, and later, as
-the political power gradually acquires greater strength, for taking the
-measures of retribution into his own hands. Revenge, thus, is changed
-into punishment, and custom is displaced by the norm of law, which
-grows up out of repeated decisions in the adjudication of similar cases.
-
-Sojourn in a place of refuge resembles imprisonment in that it limits
-personal freedom. One might, therefore, be inclined to suppose that,
-through a further development other than that described above, the
-sanctuary led to a gradual moderation of punishment by introducing the
-practice of _imprisonment_. Such a supposition, however, is not borne
-out by the facts. At the time when the transition from the place of
-refuge into the prison might have taken place, the idea of reducing
-the death penalty to the deprivation of freedom was still remote. The
-value which the heroic age placed on the life of the individual was
-not sufficiently high to induce such a change, and the enforcement of
-prison penalties would, under the existing conditions, have appeared
-difficult and uncertain. Hence imprisonment was as yet entirely unknown
-as a form of punishment. Though the State had suppressed blood-revenge,
-it showed no less an inclination than did ancient custom to requite not
-only murder but even milder crimes with death. Indeed, inasmuch as the
-peaceful mode of settlement by ransom gradually disappeared, it might
-be truer to say that the relentlessness of the State was even greater
-than that of blood-revenge. The oldest penal codes were very strongly
-inclined to impose death penalties. That the famous Draconian laws of
-Athens became proverbial in this respect was due merely to the fact
-that other ancient legal codes, though not infrequently more severe,
-were still unknown. The law of King Hammurabi punished by death any
-one who stole property belonging to the court or the temple, or even
-to one of the king's captains; the innkeeper who charged her guests
-extortionate prices was thrown into the water, and the temple maiden
-who opened a wine-shop was burned to death. Whoever acquired possession
-of stolen goods, or sheltered a runaway slave, was put to death, etc.
-For every crime that was judged to be in any way serious, and for
-whose expiation a money ransom was not adequate, the law knew only the
-one penalty, death. The earliest law made no use of custody except in
-connection with civil justice. The debtor was confined in the house of
-the creditor. This simply enforced the pledge involved in the shaking
-of hands at the time when the debt was contracted--an act by which the
-debtor vowed to be responsible for his debt with his own person.
-
-The confinement of the debtor was at first a matter that was left to
-individuals, and its original sanction was custom; later, however,
-it came under the supervision of the legal system of the State. This
-suggested the adoption of confinement in connection with other crimes,
-in which the death penalty appeared too severe a punishment and the
-exaction of money one that was too light, as well, primarily, as too
-dependent upon the wealth of the guilty individual. Contributory to
-this change, was a practice which, similarly to confinement, was
-also originally an arrangement between individuals, and was rooted
-in custom. I refer to the holding of individuals as pledges, to the
-hostage, who gave security with his own person for the promise of
-another. The hostage is of the nature of a forfeit, guaranteeing
-in advance the fulfilment of the obligation. For this reason the
-holding of hostages came to be practised not merely in the case of
-property contracts but in connection with every possible obligation
-of a private or a public nature. This development was furthered by
-the fact that hostages came to be held in times of war, and, as a
-result, were given also upon the assumption of public duties. In
-both cases, custody changed from a private arrangement into a public
-concern. This change made it possible for a judge to impose the
-penalty of imprisonment whenever the transgression did not appear
-to warrant death. Imprisonment is a penalty that admits of no fewer
-degrees than does a fine, and has the advantage of being independent
-of the irrelevant circumstance of the wealth of the one who is
-condemned. Moreover, the restriction of arbitrary deprivations of
-freedom in favour of custody on the part of the political power,
-makes it possible to hold a suspect whose case requires examination
-before a judicial verdict can be given. Thus arises the practice of
-confinement during investigation, an incidental form of legal procedure
-which is influenced by, and in turn reacts upon, the penalty of
-imprisonment. Such confinement makes it possible to execute the penalty
-of imprisonment in the case of those whom investigation shows to be
-guilty. But this is not its only important result. It also leads to
-those barbarous methods which, particularly during the early stages of
-this development, are connected with the infliction of the punishment
-itself as well as with the preceding inquisitorial activities. The
-public administration of justice is still affected by the passion for
-vengeance which comes down from the earlier period of blood-revenge.
-To this coarser sense of justice a merely quantitative gradation of
-punishment is not satisfactory; the punishment must rather be made to
-correspond qualitatively with the crime that has been committed. Hence
-the many different modes of prison punishment--more numerous even than
-the modes of inflicting the death penalty--and of the means of torture,
-which are often conceived with devilish cunning. These means of torture
-come to be used also in the inquisitional procedure; the endeavour
-to force a confession causes them to become more severe, and this in
-turn reacts upon the punishment itself. On the whole, the ultimate
-tendency, of imprisonment was greatly to restrict the death penalty and
-thus to contribute to more humane methods of punishment. Nevertheless,
-it is impossible not to recognize that this result was preceded by
-an increasing cruelty. The fact that the prisoner was under the
-control of the punitive authority for a longer period of time led to a
-multiplication of the means of punishment. How simple, and, one might
-say, how relatively humane, was blood-revenge, satisfied as it was to
-demand life for life, in comparison with the penal law of the Middle
-Ages, with its methods of forcing confession by means of the rack and
-of various forms of physical suffering and of death penalties!
-
-The same is true of a further change inaugurated by the passing of
-blood-revenge into punishment. This change likewise led to a decided
-restriction of the death penalty, yet it also, no less than the forcing
-of confession, brought upon penal justice the stigma of systematic
-cruelty. The assumption of penal power on the part of the public
-judiciary, in conjunction with the possession of unlimited control
-over the person and life of the malefactor, led to the adoption of
-a principle which long continued to dominate penal justice. This
-principle was drastically expressed in the Priests' Code of the
-Israelites, "Eye for eye, tooth for tooth." True, this _jus talionis_
-was already foreshadowed in the custom of blood-revenge, and yet the
-simple form which it here possessed, 'a life for a life,' made it a
-principle of just retribution, and not a demand sharpened by hate
-and cruelty. In the case of blood-revenge, moreover, the emotions of
-revenge were moderated by virtue of the fact that considerations of
-property played a role. Requital was sought for the loss which the
-clan sustained through the death of one of its members. Hence the clan
-might be satisfied with a money compensation, or, occasionally, with
-the adoption either of a fellow-tribesman of the murderer or, indeed,
-even of the murderer himself. In contrast with this, even the most
-severe physical injuries, so long as they did not result in death,
-were originally always left to the retaliation of the individual. This
-retaliation was sought either in direct combat, or, in the heroic age
-proper, in a duel conducted in accordance with regulations of custom.
-All this is changed as soon as the State abolishes blood-revenge and
-assumes jurisdiction over cases of murder. In the event of personal
-injuries, the judge determines the sentence, particularly if the
-individual is unable for any reason to secure retaliation--having been
-rendered helpless, for example, through his injury, or being prevented
-by the fact of class differences. Under such circumstances it is
-but natural that the principle, 'a life for a life,' which has been
-borrowed from the institution of blood-revenge and has been applied
-to the punishment for murder, should be developed into a scale of
-physical punishment representing the more general principle 'like for
-like.' He who has destroyed the eye of another, must lose his own eye;
-whoever has disabled another's arm, must have his arm cut off, etc.
-Other injuries then came to be similarly punished, even those of a
-moral character to which the principle "eye for eye, tooth for tooth"
-is not directly applicable. The hand which has been implicated in an
-act of sacrilege, such as the commission of perjury, is to be cut off;
-the tongue which has slandered, must be torn out. Originally, the death
-penalty was employed all too freely. Hence this substitution of a
-physical punishment which spared the life of the offender was doubtless
-in the direction of moderation. But, since this substitution gave rise
-to cruelties that resulted in the infliction of various sorts of death
-penalties, preceded and accompanied by tortures, its original effect
-became reversed, just as in the case of imprisonment. Moreover, the two
-forms of punishment--imprisonment and death--and the degree to which
-these were carried to excess differed according to civilization and
-race. The _jus talionis_ was the older principle of punishment. It is
-more closely bound up with man's natural impulse for retaliation, and
-therefore recurs even within humane civilizations, sometimes merely in
-suggestions but sometimes in occasional relapses which are of a more
-serious sort and are due to the passion for revenge. In fundamental
-contrast with the Mosaic law, Christianity repudiated the requital of
-like with like. Perhaps it was the fear of violating its own principle
-that led it, in its later development, to seek in the cruelties of
-severe prison penalties a substitute for the repressed impulse to
-revenge which comes to expression in coarser conceptions of justice.
-Nevertheless, this substitution was superior to the inflexible severity
-of the _jus talionis_ in that it more effectively enabled milder
-customs to influence the judicial conscience.
-
-But there is still another respect in which the recedence of the
-principle of retaliation gradually led to an advance beyond the legal
-conceptions characteristic of the heroic age. The command for strict
-retribution takes into consideration merely the _objective_ injury in
-which a deed results; to it, it is immaterial whether a person destroys
-another's eye accidentally or intentionally. The same injury that he
-has caused must befall him. Whoever kills a man must, according to
-the law of Hammurabi, himself suffer death; if he kills a woman, he
-is to be punished by the death of his daughter. If a house collapses,
-the builder who constructed it must suffer death. For a successful
-operation, the physician receives a compensation; if the operation
-fails, the hand that has performed it is cut off. The same law
-determines both reward and punishment. Moreover, it includes within its
-scope even intellectual and moral transgressions. The judge who commits
-an error is to be dismissed from office in disgrace; the owner who
-neglects his field is to be deprived of it.
-
-
-
-10. THE DIFFERENTIATION OF LEGAL FUNCTIONS.
-
-
-The direct impetus to overcoming the defects that were inherent in
-penal justice as a result of its having originated in the conflicts
-of individuals, did not come from a clear recognition of differences
-in the character of the crimes themselves, but primarily from the
-fact of a gradual _division of judicial functions_. This is shown
-particularly by the development of Graeco-Roman as well as of Germanic
-law. It is in the criminal court, which supersedes blood-revenge,
-that public authority is most directly conscious of its power over
-the individual. Hence the criminal court appears to be the highest
-of the courts, and the one that most deeply affects the natural
-rights of man. Its authority is vested solely in the ruler, or in a
-particularly sacred tribunal. This is due, not so much to the specific
-character of the crimes over which it has jurisdiction, as to the
-respect which it receives because it assumes both the ancient duty of
-blood-revenge and the function of exacting a requital for religious
-guilt. Similarly, other offences also gradually pass from the sphere of
-personally executed revenge or from that of the strife of individuals,
-and become subject to the penal authority of the State. The division
-of judicial authority, to which these tendencies lead, is promoted
-by the differentiation of public power, as a result of which the
-administration of justice is apportioned to various officials and
-magistrates, as well as are the other tasks of the State. It is for
-this reason that, if we consider their civilization as a whole, the
-constitutional States of the Occidental world were led to differentiate
-judicial functions much earlier than were the great despotic monarchies
-of the Orient. These monarchies, as the code of Hammurabi shows,
-possessed a highly developed husbandry and a correspondingly advanced
-commercial and monetary system, whereas they centralized all judicial
-functions in the ruler.
-
-Thus, the State gains a twofold power, manifested, in the first place,
-in the very establishment of a judicial order, and, secondly, in the
-differentiation of the spheres of justice in which the authority of the
-State over the individual is exercised. This finally prepares the way
-for the last stage of development. The state itself becomes subject
-to an established legal order which determines its various functions
-and the duties of its members. There thus originates an officialdom,
-organized on fixed principles and possessing carefully defined public
-privileges. The people of the State, on the other hand, are divided
-into definite classes on the basis of the duties demanded of them as
-well as of the rights connected with these duties. These articulations
-of political society, which determine the organization of the army,
-the mode of taxation, and the right of participation in the government
-of the State, develop, as we have already seen, out of totemic tribal
-organization, as a result of the external conditions attendant upon
-the migrations and wars connected with the rise of States. But they
-also exhibit throughout the traces of statutes expressing the will
-and recording the decisions of individual rulers, though even here,
-of course, universal human motives are decisive. After the political
-powers of the State have been divided and have been delegated to
-particular officials and official colleges, and after political rights
-have been apportioned to the various classes of society, the next step
-consists in rendering the organization of the State secure by means of
-a _Constitution_ regulating the entire political system. In the shaping
-of the Constitution, it cannot be denied that individual legislators
-or legislative assemblies played a significant role. Nevertheless, it
-must be remembered that it is solely as respects the _form_ of State
-organization that the final and most comprehensive legal creation
-appears to be predominantly the result of the will acts of individuals.
-The _content_ of the Constitution is in every respect a product of
-history; it is determined by conditions which, in the last analysis,
-depend upon the general culture of a nation and upon its relations with
-other peoples. These conditions, however, are so complex that, though
-every form of Constitution and all its modifications may be regarded
-as absolutely involved in the causal nexus of historical life, the
-endless diversity of particular conditions precludes Constitutions from
-being classifiable according to any universal principle. Constitutions
-can at most be classified on the basis of certain analogies. The
-most influential attempt at a genetic classification of the various
-historical forms of government was that of Aristotle. But his
-classification, based on the number of rulers (one, a few, many, all)
-and on the moral predicates of good and evil (monarchy and tyranny,
-aristocracy and oligarchy, etc.), offers a purely logical schema which
-corresponds but partially with facts. True, it not infrequently happens
-that the rule of all--that is, democracy--gives way to the evil form of
-individual rulership--namely, tyranny. An aristocracy, however, or even
-a monarchy, may likewise develop into a tyranny. What the change is to
-be, depends upon historical conditions. Nor are monarchy, aristocracy,
-or the rule of the middle class forms of government that are ever
-actually to be found in the purity which logical schematization
-demands. Even in the Homeric State there was a council of elders and
-an assembly of freemen--an agora--in addition to the king. Indeed, if
-we go back still farther and inquire concerning those more primitive
-peoples of nature who are merely on the point of passing from tribal
-organization to a political Constitution, it might perhaps be nearer
-the truth to assert that democracy, and not monarchy, was the form
-of the early State. The fact is that the organization characteristic
-of the State as a whole is the product of historical factors of an
-exceedingly variable nature, and that it never adequately fits into any
-logical system that is based on merely a few political features. Even
-less may a logical schema of this sort be regarded as representing a
-universal law of development.
-
-Thus, the State is indeed the ultimate source of all the various
-branches of the legal system. So far as the fundamental elements of its
-own Constitution are concerned, however, it is really itself a product
-of _custom_, if we take this term in its broadest sense, as signifying
-an historically developed order of social life which has not yet come
-under the control of political authority. The course of development is
-the very opposite of that which rationalistic theories have taught,
-ever since the time of the Sophists, concerning the origin of the
-State. These theories maintain that the legal system originated in
-connection with the State, and that it then acquired an application to
-the separate departments of life. The reverse is true. It is with the
-determination of the rights of individuals and with the settlement of
-the controversies arising from these rights that the legal power of the
-State takes its rise. It is strengthened and extended when the custom
-of personal retribution comes to be superseded by penal law. Last of
-all comes the systematic formulation of the political Constitution
-itself. The latter, however, is never more than a _development_; it is
-not a creation in the proper sense of the word. Even such States as
-the United States of North America and the new German Empire were not
-created by lawgivers, but were only organized by them in respect to
-details. The State as such is always a product of history, and so it
-must ever remain. Every legal system presupposes the power of a State.
-Hence the latter can never itself originate in an act of legislation,
-but can only transform itself into a legal order after it has once
-arisen.
-
-
-
-11. THE ORIGIN OF GODS.
-
-
-At first glance it may seem presumptuous even to raise the question as
-to how gods originated. Have they not always existed? one is inclined
-to ask. As a matter of fact, this is the opinion of most historians,
-particularly of historians of religion. They hold that the belief
-in gods is underived. Degenerate forms may arise, the belief may at
-times even disappear altogether or be displaced by a crude belief in
-magic and demons, but it itself can in no wise have been developed
-from anything else, for it was possessed by mankind from the very
-beginning. Were it true that the belief in gods represents an original
-possession of mankind, our question concerning the origin of gods would
-be invalidated. The assumption, however, is disproved by the facts of
-ethnology. There are peoples without gods. True, there are no peoples
-without some sort of supersensuous beings. Nevertheless, to call all
-such beings 'gods'--beings, for example, such as sickness-demons or the
-demons which leave the corpse and threaten the living--would appear to
-be a wholly unwarranted extension of the conception of deity. Unbiased
-observation goes to show that there are no peoples without certain
-conceptions that may be regarded as precursors of the later god-ideas.
-Nevertheless, there can be no doubt that there are some peoples without
-gods. The Veddahs of Ceylon, the so-called nature-Semangs and Senoi of
-Malacca, the natives of Australia, and many other peoples of nature as
-well, possess no gods, in our sense of the word. Because all of these
-primitive peoples interpret certain natural phenomena--such as clouds,
-winds, and stars--in an anthropomorphic fashion, it has been attempted
-time and again to establish the presence of the god-idea of higher
-religions. Such attempts, however, may be straightway characterized as
-a play with superficial analogies in which no thought whatsoever is
-taken of the real content of the god-conception.
-
-Accepting the lead of ethnological facts, then, let us grant that
-there are stages in the development of the myth in which real gods
-are lacking. Even so, two opposing views are possible concerning
-the relation of such 'prereligious' conditions to the origin of the
-god-ideas essential to religion. Indeed, these views still actively
-compete with each other in the science of religion. On the one hand,
-it is maintained that the god-idea is original, and that belief in
-demons, totemism, fetishism, and ancestor worship are secondary and
-degenerate derivatives. On the other hand, the gods are regarded as
-products of a mythological development, and, in so far, as analogous
-to the State, which grew up in the course of political development
-out of the primitive forms of tribal organization. Those who defend
-the first of these views subscribe to a degeneration theory. If the
-ancestors reverenced in cult are degenerated deities, and if the
-same is true of demons and even of fetishes, then the main course of
-religious development has obviously been downward and not upward.
-The representatives of the second view, on the contrary, assume an
-upward or progressive tendency. If demons, fetishes, and the animal or
-human ancestors worshipped in cult antedate gods, the latter must have
-developed from the former. Thus, the views concerning the origin of
-gods may be classified as _theories of degeneration_ and _theories of
-development_.
-
-But the theories of degeneration themselves fall into two classes.
-The one upholds an original monotheism, the basis of which is claimed
-to be either an innate idea of God or a revelation made to all
-mankind. Obviously this assumption is itself more nearly a belief
-than a scientific hypothesis. As a belief, it may be accounted for
-in terms of a certain religious need. This explains how it happens
-that, in spite of the multiplication of contradictory facts, the
-theory has been repeatedly urged in comparatively recent times. Only
-a short time ago, even a distinguished ethnologist, Wilhelm Schmidt,
-attempted to prove that such an original monotheism was without
-doubt a dominant belief among the so-called Pygmies, who must, in
-general, be classed with primitive peoples. The argument adduced in
-support of this view, however, unquestionably lacks the critical
-caution otherwise characteristic of this investigator. One cannot
-escape the conviction that, in this case, personal religious needs
-influenced the ethnological views, even though one may well doubt
-whether the degeneration theory is a theory that is suited to satisfy
-such needs.[1] The second class of theories adopts the view that the
-basis of all religious development was not monotheism but primitive
-polytheism. This polytheism is supposed to have originated, at a very
-early age, in the impression made by the starry heavens, particularly
-by the great heavenly bodies, the sun and the moon. Here for the first
-time, it is maintained, man was confronted by a world far transcending
-his own realm of sense perception; because of the multiplicity of the
-motives that were operative, it was not the idea of one deity but
-the belief in many deities that was evoked. In essential contrast
-with the preceding view, this class of theories regards all further
-development as upward. Monotheism is held to be a refined religious
-product of earlier polytheistic conceptions. In so far, the hypothesis
-represents a transition to developmental theories proper. It cannot be
-counted among the latter, however, for it holds to the originality of
-the god-idea, believing that this conception, which is essential to
-all religion, was not itself the product of development, but formed
-an original element of man's natural endowment. Moreover, the theory
-attaches a disproportionate significance to the transition from many
-gods to a single god. It is doubtful, to say the least, whether the
-intrinsic value of the god-idea may be measured merely in terms of this
-numerical standard. Furthermore, the fact is undeniable that philosophy
-alone really exhibits an absolute monotheism. A pure monotheistic
-belief probably never existed in the religion of any people, not even
-in that of the Israelites, whose national deity, Jahve, was not at all
-the sole god in the sense of a strict monotheism. When the Decalogue
-says, "Thou shalt have no other gods before me," this does not deny
-the existence of gods other than Jahve, but merely prohibits the
-Israelites from worshipping any other deity. These other gods, however,
-are the national gods of other peoples. Not only do these other tribal
-gods exist alongside of Jahve, but the patriarchal sagas centre
-about individuals that resemble now demonic and now divine beings.
-The most remarkable of these figures is Jacob. In the account of his
-personality there seem to be mingled legends of differing origin,
-dating from a time probably far earlier than the developed Jahve cult.
-The scene with his father-in-law, Laban, represents him as a sort of
-crafty maerchen-hero. He cheats Laban through his knowledge of magic,
-gaining for himself the choicest of the young lambs by constructing
-the watering troughs of half-peeled rods of wood--a striking example
-of so-called imitative magic. On the other hand, Jacob is portrayed
-as the hero who rolls from the well's mouth the stone which all the
-servants of Laban could not move. And finally, when he wrestles with
-Jahve by night on the bank of the stream and is not overcome until
-the break of day, we are reminded either of a mighty Titan of divine
-lineage, or possibly of the river demon who, according to ancient folk
-belief, threatens to engulf every one who crosses the stream, be it
-even a god. But what is true of the figures of the patriarchal sagas
-applies also, in part, to Jahve himself. In the remarkable scene in
-which Jahve visits Abraham near the terebinths of Mamre, he associates
-with the patriarch as a _primus inter pares_. He allows Sarah to
-bake him a cake and to wash his feet, and he then promises Abraham a
-numerous posterity. He appears as a man among men, though, of course,
-as one who is superior and who possesses magical power. Only gradually
-does the god acquire the remoteness of the superhuman. Abraham is
-later represented as falling down before him, and as scarcely daring
-to approach him. Here also, however, the god still appears on earth.
-Finally, when he speaks to Moses from the burning bush, only his voice
-is perceptible. Thus, his sensuous form vanishes more and more, until
-we come to the Jahve who uses the prophets as his mouthpiece and is
-present to them only as a spiritual being. The purified Jahve cult,
-therefore, was not an original folk-religion. It was the product
-of priests and prophets, created by them out of a polytheism which
-contained a rich profusion of demon conceptions, and which was never
-entirely suppressed.
-
-If an original monotheism is nowhere to be found, one might be tempted
-to believe conversely, that _polytheism_ represents the starting-point
-of all mythology. In fact, until very recently this was doubtless the
-consensus of opinion among mythologists and historians of religion, and
-the idea is still widely prevalent. For, if we hold in any way to the
-view that the god-idea is underived, there is but one recourse, once
-we abandon the idea of an original monotheism. The polytheistic theory
-is, as a rule, connected with the further contention that god-ideas are
-directly due to celestial phenomena. In substantiation of this view, it
-is pointed out that, with the exception of the gods of the underworld,
-the gods are usually supposed to dwell in the heavens. Accordingly, it
-is particularly the great heavenly bodies, the sun and the moon, or
-also the clouds and storms, to which--now to the one and now to the
-other, according to their particular tendency--these theories trace
-the origin of the gods. Celestial phenomena were present to man from
-the beginning, and it is supposed that they aroused his reflection
-from earliest times on. Those mythologists who champion the celestial
-theory of the origin of religion, therefore, regard god-ideas as in
-great measure the products of intellectual activity; these ideas are
-supposed to represent a sort of primitive explanation of nature, though
-an explanation, of course, which, in contrast to later science, is
-fantastical, arbitrary, and under the control of emotion. During the
-past century, moreover, this class of hypotheses has gradually placed
-less emphasis on emotional as compared with rational factors. In the
-first instance, it was the phenomena of storms, clouds, thunder, and
-lightning that were thought to be the basis of deity belief; later,
-the sun came to be regarded as the embodiment of the chief god; the
-present tendency is to emphasize particularly the moon, whose changing
-phases may easily give rise to various mythological ideas. Does not
-the proverbial 'man in the moon' survive even to-day as a well-known
-fragment of mythological conceptions of this sort? Similarly, the
-crescent moon suggests a sword, a club, a boat, and many other things
-which, though not conceived as gods, may at any rate be regarded as
-their weapons or implements. The gods, we are told, then gradually
-became distinguished from celestial objects and became independent
-personal beings. The heroes of the hero saga are said to be degenerated
-gods, as it were. When the myth attributes a divine parentage to the
-hero, or allows him to enter the realm of the gods upon his death, this
-is interpreted as indicative of a vague memory that the hero was once
-himself a god. The lowest place in the scale of heroes is given to the
-maerchen-hero, though he also is supposed in the last analysis to have
-originated as a celestial deity. The maerchen itself is thus regarded
-as the last stage in the decline of the myth, whose development is
-held to have been initiated in the distant past by the celestial
-myth. Accordingly, the most prevalent present-day tendency of nature
-mythology is to assume an orderly development of a twofold sort. On
-the one hand, the moon is regarded as having been the earliest object
-of cult, followed by the sun and the stars. Later, it is supposed, a
-distinction was made between gods and celestial objects, though the
-former were still given many celestial attributes. On the other hand,
-it is held that the gods were more and more anthropomorphized; their
-celestial origin becoming gradually obscured, they were reduced to
-heroes of various ranks, ranging from the heroic figures of the saga
-to the heroes of children's maerchen. These theories of an original
-polytheism are rendered one-sided by the very fact that they are not
-based upon any investigations whatsoever concerning the gods and myths
-actually prevalent in folk-belief. They merely give an interpretation
-of hypothetical conceptions which are supposed to be original, and it
-is from these that the gods of actual belief are derived. Those who
-proceed thus believe that the task of the psychologist of religion and
-of the mythologist is completed with the demonstration that back of
-every deity of myth there lurks a celestial phenomenon. It has been
-maintained, for example, that every feature of the Biblical legend of
-Paradise had its origin in ideas connected with the moon. Paradise
-itself is the moon. The flaming sword of the angel who guards Paradise
-is the crescent moon. Adam is either the half-moon or the familiar man
-in the moon. Finally, Adam's rib, out of which Eve was created, is
-again the crescent moon.
-
-We need not raise the question whether such a mode of treatment ever
-correctly interprets any actual mythological conception, or whether
-it represents nothing other than the creation of the mythologist's
-imagination. This much is clear, that it leaves out of consideration
-precisely those mythological ideas and religious views that really
-live in folk-belief. Doubtless we may assume that celestial
-phenomena occasionally factored as assimilative elements in the
-formation of mythological conceptions. But such conceptions cannot
-possibly have been due exclusively to celestial factors, for the
-very reason that, even where these are indubitably present, they are
-inextricably interwoven with terrestrial elements derived from man's
-immediate environment. Consider, for example, the figure of Helios in
-Greek mythology. His very name so inevitably suggests the sun that
-this connection remained unsevered throughout later development.
-Nevertheless, the Greeks no more identified the god Helios with the sun
-than they did Zeus himself with thunder and lightning. On the contrary,
-these celestial phenomena were all only attributes of deities. The god
-stands in the background, and, in the idea which man forms of him, the
-image of human heroes plays no less a part than do the impressions
-made by the shining heavenly bodies. These various interpretations
-of nature mythology, therefore, overlook an important psychological
-factor which is operative even in elemental experiences, but which
-attains increasing significance in proportion as the psychical
-processes become more complicated, and especially, therefore, in the
-formation of mythological conceptions. I refer to the _assimilative
-fusion of psychical elements of differing origins_. No external object
-is perceived precisely as it is immediately given in reality. In the
-experience of it, there are fused numerous elements whose source is
-within ourselves; these partly reinforce and partly suppress the
-given elements, thus producing what we call the 'perception' or the
-'apprehension' of the object. The process of assimilation is greatly
-influenced by the emotions that may be present. To the frightened
-person, thunder and lightning suggest a god who hurls the lightning.
-Such a person believes that he really sees this god. Either the
-surrounding portions of the sky assume, in his imagination, the form
-of an immense anthropomorphic being, or the thunder and lightning lead
-his gaze to the canopy of clouds, hidden back of which he thinks that
-he discovers, at least in vague outline, the thundering Zeus. To gain
-some appreciation of the tremendous potency of assimilative processes,
-one need but recall certain situations of ordinary life, such as are
-experienced even apart from the influence of fear or ecstasy. Consider,
-for example, the vivid impression that may be aroused by theatrical
-scenery, which in reality consists of little more than suggestive
-outlines. A particularly striking illustration is offered also by the
-familiar puzzle pictures. In a picture of the foliage of a tree there
-are sketched the outlines of a human face or of the head of a cat. An
-uninitiated observer sees at first only the foliage. Not until his
-attention has been directed to it does he suddenly discover the head.
-Once, however, he has seen the latter, he cannot suppress it, try
-as he may. Here again it is sometimes but a few indistinct outlines
-that evoke the picture. The truth is that to a very great extent the
-observer reads the head into the drawing through the activity of his
-imagination. Now, it is but natural that such an assimilation should be
-immeasurably enhanced under the influence of the emotions which excite
-the mythological imagination. As is well known, Apollo, as well as
-Helios, was represented by the image of the sun. This image, however,
-was even less adequate to embody the idea of the Greek in the former
-case than it was in the latter. The Greek was able, however, to imagine
-the radiant sun as an attribute of the deity or as a manifestation of
-his activity. He could see in the sun the shield or chariot of the god;
-in the sun's rays, his missiles. Here again, however, he had in mind
-the indefinite outlines of a powerful anthropomorphic god, who could
-become independent of the natural phenomenon according as his name was
-free from connection with it.
-
-Thus, even those nature gods who might appear to be purely celestial
-deities, as, for example, Helios, or the lightning-hurling Zeus, are
-the products of a psychological assimilation of perceptual elements,
-the most important of which have their ultimate source in terrestrial
-life. Hence it is that, wherever the nature myth has reached its
-complete development, the gods appear in _human form_. It is only
-in an age still influenced by totemic ideas that zoomorphism occurs
-alongside of anthropomorphism, or in combination with it. Of such
-figures, the one which maintained itself longest--as is shown by the
-history of ancient Egypt--was that of a human body with the head of
-an animal. After this connection of an incipient deity cult with the
-ideas of the preceding age had disappeared, the only remaining trace of
-totemism was the fact that an animal was represented as accompanying
-the deity. Eventually the animal became a mere symbol used by art in
-its pictorial representations of the god. Doubtless the lamb, as a
-symbol of Christ, may be regarded as a late survival of a stage of
-deity belief which was still semi-totemic, and under the influence of
-the sacred animals of older cultural religions. The expression 'sacred
-animals,' moreover, points to the fact that the worship and veneration
-paid to the god influenced also the attitude taken toward the animal.
-But however far this development of the god-idea may have advanced,
-the essential elements of the conception nevertheless remained of
-_terrestrial_ origin. In the mythological assimilation-complexes that
-gave rise to gods, celestial phenomena furnished but a part of the
-elements. At best, they were the exciting stimuli; in many cases,
-it is doubtful whether they exercised any influence whatsoever upon
-the origin of mythological conceptions. Whether, for example, the
-crescent moon has actually any connection with the flaming sword of
-the angel of Paradise, or whether it suggested the club of Hercules,
-this and much else is possible, but is incapable of demonstration. Even
-where this influence upon mythological conceptions is incontestable,
-celestial phenomena are subordinate to terrestrial factors, and in most
-cases they have left no trace in consciousness. Proof of the dominant
-importance of the terrestrial environment is not far to seek. Even the
-celestial gods are conceived as men or as anthropomorphic beings, and
-it is usually the earth that is regarded as the scene of their activity.
-
-The theories maintaining the originality of the god-idea have more
-and more been displaced by the contrary view, namely, that the gods
-developed out of lower forms of mythological thought. Here there
-are _two_ distinct interpretations. The first and the older is the
-_ancestor theory_. This represents a particular form of animism, for
-the soul of the ancestor is thought to become a god. The worship of the
-god, therefore, is held to have been originally a reverence paid to
-the ancestor. The main evidence for this view is found in the ancestor
-worship which is actually being practised, among many peoples, even at
-the present time. Prior to the Jahve religion, such a cult is supposed
-to have prevailed even among the Israelites. Do not the patriarchs
-Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob appear as the ancestors of the later tribes
-of Israel? More significant still are the ancestor cults that have
-prevailed in China and Japan since very ancient times. It should be
-remembered, however, that these cults, wherever they occur, represent
-but more or less prominent elements of more extensive mythological and
-religious conceptions. Hence the ancestor theory, also, is an arbitrary
-construction based on a presupposition which is in itself very
-improbable, namely, that all mythology and religion must eventually be
-traceable to a single source. The contention, for example, that a Zeus
-or a Jahve was a human ancestor elevated into a deity is a completely
-arbitrary supposition, lacking the confirmation of empirical facts.
-
-Finally, there is another theory which, like the ancestor hypothesis,
-seeks to derive gods, or at least the beings generally regarded as
-gods, from more primitive mythological ideas. This theory, which was
-developed by Hermann Usener, the most prominent student of the science
-of religion among recent classical philologists, might perhaps be
-referred to, in distinction from the soul and ancestor hypothesis,
-as the _demon theory_ of the origin of gods. Usener agrees with the
-rival hypothesis in assuming that the exalted celestial deities were
-not the first of the higher beings who were feared or worshipped in
-a cult, but that there were other more temporary gods. Though these
-many temporary gods are described as demoniacal beings, they are
-nevertheless regarded as gods of a primitive sort. Usener distinguishes
-three stages in the development of gods. First, there was the 'god
-of the moment.' Some phenomenon--such, for example, as a flash of
-lightning or a clap of thunder--was felt to be divine. But, inasmuch
-as the impression was vanishing, the mythological idea in question was
-that of a 'god of the moment.' Then followed a second stage, in which a
-demoniacal power was associated with a particular place. Following upon
-these local gods came other gods, representing the guardian powers of
-a tribe, a vocation, or some other social group. At the third stage of
-development, the 'particular god' acquired a personal nature, and thus
-finally became a god proper. The gods of this final stage are called by
-Usener 'personal gods.'
-
-Although this theory is doubtless in greater consonance with certain
-general characteristics of myth development than is the ancestor
-theory, we would urge, as one chief objection, the fact that its
-god-concept unites mythological-religious elements of a very different
-nature. In particular, the so-called 'god of a moment' is neither a
-god, in the proper sense of the word, nor even a demon, but either a
-particular impression arousing fear, or, on a higher plane, a single
-manifestation of the activity of a demon or god. The Greeks referred
-the flash of lightning to Zeus, the lightning-hurler. On a more
-primitive level, the North American Indian sees in the lightning and
-thunder the acts of a demon hidden in the clouds. In neither case are
-the momentary phenomena identified with gods or demons themselves.
-There is not a shadow of proof in the entire history of myth that
-such acts or attributes as these, which were attributed to gods and
-demons, ever existed as independent realities of even but a moment's
-duration. The so-called 'particular gods,' on the other hand, are in
-every respect demons and not gods. They are not personal in nature;
-this also implies that they are not conceived as having a particular
-form, for somehow the latter always leads to personalization. As a
-matter of fact, these 'particular gods' are only objectified emotions
-of fear and terror. Spirits, in the sense of magical agents of disease
-conceived as invisible beings, or occasionally imaged in the form of
-fantastic though ever-changing animal shapes, are not gods, but demons.
-The same holds true of the multitude of nature demons that infest
-field and forest and the vicinity of streams and gorges. Wherever myth
-has given these spirits definite forms, they reveal no evidence of
-traits such as would constitute them individual personalities. This,
-of course, does not imply that there are no cases at all in which the
-indeterminate traits ascribed to them are so combined as to result
-in individual beings. When this occurs, however, we have already
-transcended the stage of so-called 'particular gods.' Such beings as
-the Greek Pan or the Germanic Hel must already be classed with gods
-proper, even though they exhibit traits indicative of a demoniacal
-past; for the narrowness of character which they manifest results
-from the fact that they originated directly in a particular emotion.
-Surely, therefore, the decisive emphasis in the case of deity ideas
-in general must be placed on the attribute of personality. Gods are
-personal beings, whose characters reflect the peculiarity of the people
-who have created them. We see in the god Jahve of the Israelites the
-clear-cut lines of the stern god who threatens the disobedient, but
-who also rewards the faithful. More impressive still is the uniqueness
-of personality in those cases in which a multiplicity of gods causes
-the development of diverse and partly opposed characteristics in the
-various gods. How individual are the gods of the Greeks with respect to
-one another! Under the influence of poetry every god has here become a
-clearly defined personality, whose individuality was fixed by formative
-art. Thus, the error of the demon theory or, as it might also be
-called, the three-stage theory, lies in the fact that it effaces the
-essential distinctions between god and demon, retaining as the chief
-characteristic of the multitude of resulting deity-conceptions only the
-most external quality, that of _permanence_. For the 'god of a moment'
-is characterized merely by his extreme transitoriness; the 'particular
-god' is the 'god of a moment' become somewhat more enduring but not
-yet possessed of sufficient stability to develop personal traits; the
-true or personal god, finally, owes his distinctive attribute solely
-to the permanence of his characteristics. Because of this confusion of
-the concepts god and demon, there is lacking precisely that which is of
-most importance for a psychological investigation--namely, an answer to
-the question as to the _intrinsic_ marks that differentiate a god, in
-the proper and only true sense of the word, from demons, ancestors, and
-souls--in short, from all other creations of mythological thought.
-
-Herewith we come to a question which will bring us closer to an
-answer respecting the origin of gods. By what characteristic marks is
-a mythological conception to be distinguished as that of an actual
-god? The question might also be stated in a more concrete form. What
-characteristics differentiate a god from a _demon_, who is not yet a
-god because he lacks personality, and from a _hero_, who is regarded
-by the age in which gods originate as somewhat approximating a god
-but as nevertheless still a man? Or, briefly expressed, how does the
-god differ from the demon and from the ideal man? The criteria thus
-demanded are to be found in the traits that are universally ascribed
-to gods wherever any complete deity mythology and a corresponding
-religion have been developed. The god is always distinguished by three
-characteristics. The first of these is that his _place of abode_ is
-other than that of man. He may occasionally visit man on the earth,
-but this occurs only rarely. So far as he himself is concerned, the
-god lives in another world. In this sense, the idea of a 'beyond' is
-closely bound up with that of gods. As a rule, the 'beyond' is the
-heavenly world. But gods may dwell also in the regions of the air and
-clouds between the heaven and the earth, on high mountains, on distant
-islands, or, finally, under special circumstances, in the depths of the
-earth. Secondly, the gods lead a _perfect_ life, free, on the whole,
-from the evils and infirmities of earthly existence. A perfect life,
-however, is always regarded as primarily a life without death and
-without sickness. There then develops, though doubtless gradually, the
-idea of something even more perfect than is involved in this merely
-negative conception of immortal and painless existence. But at this
-point ideas begin to differ, so that, in reality, the most universal
-characteristics of the gods are that they know neither death nor
-sickness. There are occasional exceptions, however, just as there are
-with respect to the supra-mundane place of abode. The Greek as well as
-the Germanic deity sagas represent the gods as possessing a particular
-food and a particular drink, an idea connected with that of the
-anthropomorphic nature of these gods. The Germanic gods, especially,
-are described as capable of maintaining their perfect life only by
-far exceeding the human measure of food and drink. This, however, is
-but a subordinate feature. More important is the fact that if, by any
-unfortunate circumstance, food and drink are lacking, the gods waste
-away and meet the universal lot of human existence--death. But, even
-apart from this connection, the Germanic sagas, or at any rate the
-poetry inspired by them, tell of a decline of gods and of the rise
-of a new divine hierarchy. It is not to be assumed, of course, that
-this represents an original element in Germanic mythology. All records
-of Germanic deity sagas, as we know, date from Christian times. Even
-though the ancient skalds, as well as those historians who regarded
-the saga as a bit of actual history, may have made every effort to
-preserve for posterity the memory of this departed world, they could,
-nevertheless, hardly have avoided mingling certain Christian ideas
-with tradition. In view of the actual decline of the former gods, the
-thought of a _Goetterdaemmerung_, in particular, must almost inevitably
-have forced itself upon them. At any rate, inasmuch as this particular
-conception represents the gods as subject to death, it contains an
-element that is bound up with the anthropomorphic nature of the
-divine beings, though this, of course, is irreconcilable with the
-immortality originally conceded to them. We are thus brought to the
-most important characteristic of gods, which is connected with this
-very fact of their similarity to man. The god is a _personality_; he
-has a specific personal character, which gives direction to his will
-and leads him to send blessings or misfortunes to mortals. These purely
-human characteristics, however, he possesses in an exalted and complete
-measure. His will-acts, as well as the emotion from which they spring
-and the insight by which they are guided, are superhuman in power.
-But this power is not equivalent to omnipotence. This it cannot be by
-very reason of the multiplicity of gods, each of whom has a particular
-sphere of activity. Frequently, moreover, omnipotence is rendered
-impossible by the idea--likewise carried over from the terrestrial to
-the supermundane world--of a _destiny_, an impersonal power behind
-the wills of gods no less than those of men. This is a conception
-which deity beliefs inherit from the earlier demon beliefs. True,
-polytheistic myth itself takes a step in the direction of transcending
-this limitation when it here also transfers the conditions of the human
-order to the divine world, and creates for the latter a monarch, a
-supreme deity ruling over gods and men. But this very projection of
-human relations into the divine realm prevents the chief deity from
-being an unlimited ruler. On the one hand, he shares authority with a
-deliberative assembly consisting of the remaining gods; on the other
-hand, even behind him there lurk those demoniacal powers which, to a
-certain extent, continued to assert themselves even after they had
-been superseded by the gods. For here also it holds true that whatever
-lives in folk-belief must retain a foundation in myth. The advent of
-gods nowhere led to the complete banishment of demons. What occurred
-was that, due to the power of the gods, certain of the demons likewise
-developed into mighty forces of destiny, though continuing to remain
-impersonal.
-
-Thus, the god possesses three characteristics: a special
-dwelling-place, immortality, and a superhuman, though at the same time
-a human, personality. Leaving out of regard the tribute exacted even
-of the gods by the last-mentioned of these characteristics, human
-nature, we have before us the marks which distinguish the god both
-from the demon and from the hero. The demon, however powerful he may
-be, lacks the attribute of personality; the hero, as thoroughly human,
-shares the universal lot of man as regards dwelling-place, length of
-life, and liability to sickness and death. This places the god midway
-between the demon and the hero, though, of course, by combining the
-attributes of both, he is really exalted above them. The demon, in
-the sense in which the Greeks employed this term, is a fundamental
-element in the development of all mythologies. There can be no doubt,
-moreover, that demons appeared far earlier than gods, if we exclude
-from among the latter those indefinite and transitory personifications
-of natural phenomena that have wrongly been classed with them--such
-personifications as those of rocks, hills, clouds, stars, etc., which
-were widely current even among peoples of nature. According to a belief
-which has not entirely disappeared even among cultural peoples, the
-soul leaves the corpse in the form of a demon; the wandering ghost is
-a demon; demons dwell in the depths, in the neighbourhood of streams,
-in solitary ravines, in forests and fields, upon and beneath the earth.
-They are usually threatening, though sometimes beneficent, powers. In
-every instance, however, they are absolutely impersonal embodiments
-of the emotions of fear and hope, and it is these emotions, under
-the assimilative influences of impressions of external nature, that
-have given rise to them. Thus, demons are usually mundane beings, or,
-at any rate, have their abode near the surface of the earth; with
-few exceptions, the most distant realm which they occupy is that of
-the clouds, particularly the dark rain and thunder clouds. True, the
-heavenly bodies may manifest demoniacal powers, just as may also the
-gods. As a rule, however, celestial phenomena are far from belonging
-to the class of demons proper; they are too constant and too regular
-in their changes and movements to be thus included. The activity of
-demons relates exclusively to the welfare of man. Hence it is but
-natural that demons should be primarily man's co-inhabitants on earth.
-Usually invisible, they assume sensuously perceptible forms only in
-the darkness of night, or, more especially, under the influence of
-heightened emotions. Sometimes they are audible even when invisible.
-Only in those narratives which tell of demoniacal beings that are not
-immediately present do demons acquire fairly definite forms. Thus, even
-soul beliefs--which the fear of the uncanny activity of the departed
-soul transforms directly into a sort of demon belief--represent the
-soul in the form of a bird, a snake, or of other specific 'soul
-animals.' The demons of sickness lurking within the diseased body
-are usually portrayed as fantastic animals, whose monstrous forms
-reflect the terrible distress and the torturing pains of sickness.
-These animals hinder respiration and bore into and lacerate the
-intestines. Thus, they objectify both the pain of the sickness and the
-fear aroused in the community by the behaviour of the sick person. No
-less, however, can the impression of the desert, the dark forest, the
-lonely ravine, or the terror of an approaching storm cause demons,
-which are in first instance invisible, to assume definite shapes. Where
-there is a more highly developed sense of nature, such as begins to
-manifest itself in the heroic age, this objectification of impressions
-occurs not only under the influence of strong excitement but also in
-connection with the peaceful landscape. Here it gives rise to more
-friendly beings, in the case of whom those characteristics, at least,
-which made the original demon an object of terror, are moderated so
-as to find expression in magic of a playful sort. This is the origin
-of satyrs, sylphs and fauns, of gnomes, giants and dwarfs, elves,
-fairies, etc., all of whom are debarred from personality by their very
-multiplicity, while their generic character accurately reflects the
-mood which led to their creation. The individualization of certain of
-these beings is, in general, due to poetry. But even poetry does not
-entirely succeed in freeing the demon from the generic character which
-once for all represents its nature. Thus, it is the contrast between
-genericalness and individual personality that differentiates the demon
-from the god. Every gnome resembles every other, and all nymphs are
-alike; hence these beings are generally referred to in the plural.
-Their multiplicity is such that they are imaged in only indefinite
-forms, except in cases where particularly strong emotions excite a
-more lively imagination. Indeed, they may be present to consciousness
-solely as a peculiar feeling associated with particular places or
-occasions, such as is the case with the Lares, Manes, and Penates of
-the Romans, and with the similar guardian spirits of the house and
-the field common among many peoples. Some of these guardian spirits
-are not very unlike the ancestors of cult. But this only indicates
-that the ancestor worshipped in cult also approximates to the demon,
-acquiring a more personal character only in occasional instances in
-which memory has preserved with considerable faithfulness the traits of
-a particularly illustrious ancestor. Here, then, we have the condition
-underlying the origin of gods. Gods are universally the result of a
-_union of demoniacal and heroic elements_. The god is at once demon
-and hero; since, however, the demoniacal element in him magnifies his
-heroic attributes into the superhuman, and since the personal character
-which he borrows from the hero supersedes the indefinite and impersonal
-nature of the demon, he is exalted above them both: the god himself is
-neither hero nor demon, because he combines in himself the attributes
-of both, in an ideally magnified form.
-
-The resemblance of demons to gods is due primarily to the magic power
-which they exert. The demons of sickness torture and destroy men; the
-cloud demons bring rain and blessing to the fields, or plot ruin when
-rain does not relieve the drought of the burning sun. By means of
-magic incantations and ceremonies, these demons can be won over, or,
-when angry, reconciled. Their own activity, therefore, is magical,
-and, as regards the effects that it produces, superhuman. In their
-fleeting and impersonal character, however, they are subhuman. Since
-the dominant emotions that call them into being are fear and terror,
-they are generally regarded as enemies not only of man but even of the
-gods. The struggle between gods and nature-demons is a recurrent theme
-in the cosmogonies of all cultural peoples. This hostility between
-demons and gods is connected with the contrast in the feelings evoked
-by darkness and radiant brightness. Hence the mighty nature-demons are,
-as a rule, consigned to gloomy abysses, from which they rise to the sky
-only occasionally, as, for example, in the case of thunder-clouds. The
-abode of the gods, however, is in the bright celestial realms, and they
-themselves are radiant beings upon whose activity the harmonious order
-of nature and the happiness of mankind are dependent. In the strife
-which the demons carry on with gods, they occasionally develop into
-counter-gods, as occurred in the case of the Persian Ahriman and the
-Jewish-Christian Satan. Yet it is significant of the almost insuperable
-lack of personality characteristic of the demon, that even these
-counter-gods of darkness and evil are wanting in _one trait_ which is
-indispensable for a completely developed personality--namely, changes
-in motives and the capacity to determine at will the nature of these
-changes. Herein, again, is reflected the fact that the demon has but a
-_single_ source--namely, fear.
-
-Very different from the relation of the god to the demon is his
-relation to the hero. The hero, to a greater extent even than the god,
-is the complete opposite of the demon. For the hero is an idealized
-man. He is subject to all human destinies, to sickness and death,
-to afflictions of the soul, and to violent passions. Yet in all
-these instances the experiences are of a more exalted nature than
-in the case of ordinary human life. The life as well as the death
-of the hero are of wide import; the effects of his deeds extend to
-distant lands and ages. But it is just because the hero is the ideal
-man himself that he possesses all the more markedly the attribute
-which the demon lacks--namely, _personality_. This, of course, does
-not prevent his character from exhibiting generic differences and
-antitheses. But herein also the hero is only the idealized counterpart
-of man, for, despite all its uniqueness and individuality, man's
-character usually conforms to certain types. Thus, legend introduces
-the strong, all-conquering hero, and, in contrast with him, the hero
-who is resourceful and overcomes his enemies through subtle cunning.
-It tells of the aged man, superior in wisdom and experience, and also
-of him who, in the unbroken strength of youth and with stormy passion,
-overthrows all opponents. It further portrays the hero who plots evil,
-but who is nevertheless characterized by a sharply defined personality.
-
-When we survey these various heroic figures in both their generic and
-their individual aspects and compare them with the god-personalities,
-we are struck by the fact that the god was not created directly in
-the image of a man, but rather in that of the hero, man idealized. It
-is the hero who gives to the gods those very characteristics which
-the demon lacks from the outset. Of these, the most important are
-personality, self-consciousness, and a will controlled by diverse
-and frequently conflicting motives. This multiplicity of motives
-has a close connection with the multiplicity of gods. Polytheism is
-not an accidental feature which may or may not accompany the belief
-in gods; it is a necessary transitional stage in the development of
-the god-idea. Folk-belief, which never frees itself entirely from
-mythology, always retains a plurality of divine beings. Hence true
-monotheism represents a philosophical development of the god-idea.
-Though this development was not without influence on the theological
-speculation which was dominated by traditional doctrines, it was never
-able to uproot the polytheistic tendency involved in the god-idea
-from the very beginning. There are two sources from which this
-tendency springs. Of these, one is external and, therefore, though
-of great importance for the beginnings of religious development, is
-transitory. It consists in the influence exerted by the multiplicity
-of natural phenomena, through the nature myth, upon the number of
-gods. More important and of more permanent significance is the second
-or _internal_ motive, namely, the fact that the psychical needs that
-come to expression in the demand for gods are numerous. There cannot
-be a single god-ideal any more than a single type of hero. On the
-contrary, as heroes exhibit the diversity of human effort on an exalted
-plane, so, in turn, does the realm of gods represent, on a still
-higher level, the world of heroes. This advance beyond the hero-ideal
-becomes possible to the mythological imagination only because the
-very endeavour to exalt the hero above the human itself brought the
-hero-idea, at the very time of its origin, into connection with the
-demon-idea. For the demon is a superhuman being, magic-working and
-unpredictable, affecting in mysterious ways the course of nature and of
-human destiny. But it lacks the familiar human traits which make the
-hero an object not only of fear but also of admiration and love. Thus,
-the fusion of hero and demon results in the final and the greatest of
-mythological creations, the conception which represents the birth of
-religion in the proper and ultimately only true sense of the word. I
-refer to _the rise of gods_.
-
-The god-idea, accordingly, is the product of _two_ component factors.
-One of these, the demoniacal, has had a long history, extending back
-to the beginnings of mythological thought; the other, the heroic,
-begins to assert itself the very moment that the figure of the hero
-appears. This implies that god-ideas are neither of sudden origin
-nor unchangeable, but that they undergo a gradual development. The
-direction of development is determined by the relation which its two
-component factors sustain to each other. The earliest god-ideas are
-predominantly demoniacal in nature--personal characteristics are few,
-while magical features are all the more pronounced. Then the heroic
-element comes to the fore, until it finally acquires such dominance
-that even the magical power of the god appears to be a result of his
-heroic might, rather than a survival of the demoniacal nature which
-was his from the very beginning. In connection with this change, it
-is significant to note that, as the god loses his original demoniacal
-character, he comes to be attended by subservient beings who remain,
-in every respect, demons. On the one hand, these beings execute the
-divine commands; on the other hand, however--as an echo, one might say,
-of the age of demons which precedes that of gods--they are superior
-even to the gods in that they possess magical powers. These beings
-must be regarded as survivals of the age of demons. Between them and
-the gods proper there are intermediate beings, just as there are
-between heroes and gods, those of the latter sort being exemplified
-particularly by such heroes as have been exalted into deities. Inasmuch
-as all the intermediate forms that arise in the course of this
-transition continue in existence even up to the culmination of the
-development, the gods constantly become more numerous. Side by side
-with the gods, demons maintain their sway. At times, they contend with
-the gods; in other instances, they are subservient to them; again,
-as in the earliest periods of mythological thought, they are without
-any knowledge whatsoever of the existence of gods. The hero also is
-invariably associated with the god. With the decline of the heroic age,
-therefore, the realm of gods also disappears. Though the religious
-developments that ensue have their origin in deity beliefs, they
-nevertheless discard the original nucleus of these beliefs--namely, the
-gods themselves--or, at any rate, they retain gods only in a greatly
-altered form.
-
-That gods belong essentially to the heroic age appears also in the fact
-that the divine realm mirrors in detail the relations of political
-society developed subsequently to the beginning of the heroic age.
-The world of gods likewise forms a divine _State_. It is at most at
-an early period that the tribal gods of various peoples betray the
-influence of the ancient tribal organization that preceded the State.
-In the supremacy of a single god, however, the idea of rulership, which
-is basal to the State, is transferred also to the divine realm. This is
-true whether the ruling deity exercises command over a subservient host
-of demons and subordinate gods, or whether he has at his side a number
-of independent gods, who represent, in part, an advisory council, such
-as is found associated with the earthly ruler, and, in part, since the
-different gods possess diverse powers, a sort of celestial officialdom.
-Finally, the multiplicity of independent States is mirrored in the
-multiplicity of the independent realms ruled over by the gods. The
-differentiation, in this latter case, corresponds with the main
-directions of human interest. The development is influenced, moreover,
-by those natural phenomena that have long factored in the capacity of
-assimilative elements. Over against the bright celestial gods are the
-subterranean gods who dwell in the gloomy depths. For the inhabitants
-of the sea-coast and of islands, furthermore, there is a ruler of the
-sea. The importance of the god of the sea, however, is subordinate to
-that of the rulers of the celestial and the nether worlds, so that
-those over whom he holds sway never develop into clearly defined
-personalities, but always retain more of a demoniacal character. All
-the more important, therefore, are the contrasts between the celestial
-and the nether worlds, as the two realms which include the real destiny
-of man. At death, man must enter the nether world; to rise from the
-gloom of this realm of the dead to the heaven and immortality of the
-celestial gods becomes his longing. Thus, deity beliefs enter into
-reciprocal relations with soul conceptions. The further stages of
-this development carry us far beyond the heroic age, and reflect the
-influence of a diversity of motives. The discussion of this point will
-occupy our attention in later pages.
-
-
-[1] Concerning this alleged monotheism among primitive peoples, cf.
-supra, pp.78 f.
-
-
-
-12. THE HERO SAGA.
-
-
-If the gods be described as personalities, each one of whom possesses
-a more or less definite individuality, it is at once evident that
-the conception of an animated natural phenomenon--the idea, for
-example, that the setting sun is a being which a dark cloud-demon is
-devouring--cannot in and of itself as yet be called a god-idea. Just as
-the character of a man may be known only from the manner in which he
-reacts towards the objects of his experience, so also is the nature
-of a god revealed only in his life and activity, and in the motives
-that determine his conduct. The character of the god is expressed, not
-in any single mythological picture, but in the _myth_ or mythological
-tale, in which the god figures as a personal agent. It is significant
-to note, however, that the form of myth in which god-ideas come to
-development is not the deity saga, in the proper sense of the term, but
-the _hero saga_, which becomes a combined hero and deity saga as soon
-as both gods and heroes are represented as participating in the action.
-The deity saga proper, which deals exclusively with the deeds of gods
-and demons, is, as we shall see below, only of secondary and of later
-origin. It is not to such deity sagas, therefore, that we must turn if
-we would learn the original nature of gods. This circumstance in itself
-offers external evidence of the fact that gods did not precede heroes,
-but, conversely, that heroes preceded gods. Or, at least, to be more
-accurate, the idea of the divine personality was developed in constant
-reciprocity with that of the hero personality, in such wise, however,
-that with reference to details the hero paved the way for the god, and
-not conversely.
-
-But how did the idea of hero arise? Was it a free and completely
-new creation of this age, based merely on actual observations of
-individuals who were paragons of human ability? Or did it have
-precursors in the totemic era? As a matter of fact, this second
-question must be answered unqualifiedly in the affirmative. The hero
-was not unknown in the preceding age. At that time, however, he was
-not a hero in the specific sense which the word first acquired in
-the heroic age; on the contrary, he was a _maerchen_-hero, if we may
-use the word 'hero' in connection with the concepts of this earlier
-period. On the threshold of the heroic age, the maerchen-hero changes
-into the hero proper. The former represents the central theme of the
-earlier form of myth narrative, the maerchen-myth, as does the hero
-that of the more developed form, the saga. The marks that distinguish
-the maerchen-hero, as he still survives in children's tales, from the
-hero of saga, are important ones and are fraught with significance
-for the development of myth as a whole. The maerchen-hero is usually a
-_child_. In the form in which he gradually approximates to the hero
-proper, he is more especially, as a rule, a boy who goes forth into
-the world and meets with adventures. In these adventures, he is aided
-by various powers of magic, which he either himself possesses or which
-are imparted to him by friendly magical beings. Opposed to him are
-hostile, demoniacal beings, who seek his destruction. It is in their
-overthrow that the action usually consists. Thus, fortune comes to this
-hero, in great part, from without, and magic plays the decisive role
-in his destiny; his own cunning and skill may be co-operating factors,
-but they rarely determine the outcome. Not so the hero of the saga.
-This hero is not a boy, but a _man_. The favourite theme of the saga is
-particularly the young man in the bloom of life. In his acts, moreover,
-this hero is dependent, for the most part, upon himself. True, he, as
-well as the maerchen-hero, is familiar with magic and miracle, but it is
-primarily by his own power that he overcomes the hostile forces that
-oppose him. A suggestive illustration of this is Hercules, that figure
-of Greek saga who is pre-eminently the typical hero among the most
-diverse peoples and in widely different ages. Hercules is an entirely
-self-dependent hero. He indeed performs marvellous deeds, but these are
-never more than extreme instances of what an ordinary man might do were
-his strength multiplied a hundred or a thousand fold. Hercules is not
-a magician, but a being of transcendent power and strength. As such,
-he is able even to carry the weight of the sky on his shoulders; as
-such, he can overcome monsters, such as the Nemean lion and the Lernaean
-hydra, or bring Cerberus, the most terrible of these monsters, from
-the nether world. These are deeds which surpass every measure of human
-power, but which nevertheless still lie in the general plane of human
-actions. Thus, just as the magic-working boy was superseded by the man
-of might, so also does the true magical hero disappear from mythology.
-The saga, then, differs from the maerchen-myth in the character of its
-hero. The Hercules saga itself, however, is an illustration of the
-fact that the former may have no connection whatsoever with historical
-events, any more than has the latter. Moreover, the earliest sagas,
-particularly, not infrequently still remind one of the maerchen in that
-they are obviously a composite of several narratives. Of this fact
-also, the saga of Hercules offers a conspicuous example. The deeds of
-the hero appear to have but an accidental connection with one another.
-True, later sagas represent these deeds as adventures which the hero
-undertook at the command of King Eurystheus of Mycene. But even here
-we obviously have only a loose sort of framework which was at some
-later period imposed upon the original tales in order to bind the cycle
-together as a whole. It is not improbable that these various sagas of a
-hero who vanquished monsters, rendered lands habitable, and performed
-other deeds, originated independently of one another. Not only may
-their places of origin have been different, but their narratives may
-have had their settings in different localities. Possibly, therefore,
-it was not until later that the sagas were combined to portray the
-character of a single individual, who thus became exalted into the
-national hero. But, though the hero saga resembles the maerchen in the
-fact that it grows by the agglutination of diverse legendary materials,
-it differs from it in the possession of a characteristic which is
-typical of this stage of development. That which binds together the
-separate elements of the hero saga is a unitary thought, generally
-associated with great cultural changes or with historical events.
-
-There is a further differentia of the saga as compared with the
-maerchen. Wherever magic enters into the saga to affect the course of
-events, the chief vehicle of magical powers is not the hero himself--at
-most, he has been equipped by others with magical powers and
-implements. Such demoniacal powers as the saga may introduce into its
-narrative are usually vested in accessory persons. This fact is closely
-connected with the self-dependent character of the hero-personality,
-who may, it is true, employ magic in so far as he has received such
-power from external sources, but who himself possesses none but human
-attributes. The saga of the Argonauts, for example, is so replete
-with magic as not to be surpassed in this respect even by the magical
-maerchen. Moreover, the various elements incorporated in the saga are
-all pure maerchen motives--the golden fleece, the talking ship, the
-closing cliffs, as well as the sorceress Medea and the whole wonderland
-of Colchis. Those who man the Argo, however, are not magicians, but
-heroes in the strictly human sense of the word. The same fact stands
-out even more strikingly in the case of the saga of Odysseus, at any
-rate in the form in which the Homeric epic presents it. We may here
-discern an entire cycle of tales, whose separate elements are also to
-be found elsewhere, some of them in wide distribution. But in the midst
-of this maerchen-world stands the absolutely human hero, contrasting
-with whom the fabulous events of the narrative run their course as a
-fantastic show. The hero overcomes all obstacles that block the course
-of his journey by his own never-failing shrewdness and resourcefulness.
-Herein again the maerchen-myth gives evidence of being preparatory to
-the hero saga. At the time when the hero ideal arose, the old maerchen
-ideas were as yet everywhere current. Together with the belief in
-demons and magic, they, also, found their way into the heroic age.
-For a long time they continued to be favourite secondary themes,
-introduced in portraying the destiny of heroes. Nevertheless maerchen
-ideas became subordinate to the delineation of heroic figures, whose
-surpassing strength was described, very largely, in terms of victory
-over demoniacal powers. Thus, in the course of the development, the
-heroic elements gradually increased; the maerchen ideas, on the other
-hand, disappeared, except when some poet intentionally selected them
-for the enrichment of his tale, as was obviously done by the author of
-the Odyssey.
-
-The disappearance of the elements derived from the maerchen-myth,
-however, must in part be attributed to another factor. This factor,
-which is closely bound up with the entire culture of the heroic age,
-consists in the increasing influence of _historical recollections_.
-Particularly illuminative, as regards this point, are the Greek and
-Germanic sagas. The sagas of Hercules and the Argonauts, which, from
-this point of view, belong to a relatively early stage, are purely
-mythical creations. So far as one can see, no actual events are
-referred to by them. The Trojan saga, on the other hand, clearly
-exhibits the traces of historical recollections; its historical
-setting, moreover, seems to cause the events that transpire within it
-to approximate more nearly to the character of real life. Even here,
-indeed, ancient magical motives still cast their fantastic shadows
-over the narrative. Occasionally, however, the miracle appears in a
-rationalized form. The magician of the maerchen gives place to the seer
-who predicts the future. What the miracle effected is now accomplished
-by the overpowering might and the baffling cunning of the strong and
-wily hero. In this change, the external accessories may sometimes
-remain the same, so that it is only the inner motives that become
-different. Thus, it is not impossible that the wooden horse which
-was said to have been invented by Odysseus and to have brought into
-Troy the secreted warriors of the besieging hosts, was at one time,
-in maerchen or in saga, an actual magical horse, or a help-bringing
-deity who had assumed this form. In this case, the poet may possibly
-be presenting a rationalistic reinterpretation of an older magical
-motive, with the aim of exalting the craftiness of his hero. In the
-account of Achilles' youth, on the other hand, and in the story of
-Helen which the poet takes as his starting-point, the maerchen-idea of
-the saga obviously affects the action itself, though it is significant
-to note that these purely mythical features do not belong to the plot
-so much as to its antecedent history. In so far as the heroes directly
-affect the course of action, they are portrayed as purely human. The
-same is true of the German _Niebelungen_ saga. Just as Achilles, a
-mythical hero not at all unlike the maerchen-hero, was taken over into
-the historical saga, so also was Siegfried. But here again the maerchen
-motives, such as the fight with the dragon, Siegfried's invulnerability
-through bathing in its blood, the helmet of invisibility, and others,
-belong to the past history of the hero, and are mentioned only
-incidentally in the narrative itself. By referring these specifically
-maerchen miracles to the past, the saga seems to say, as it were, that
-its heroes were at one time maerchen-heroes.
-
-In this course of development from the purely mythical to the
-historical, the saga may approach no more closely to historical reality
-than does the purely mythical tale. But while this may be the case, it
-is nevertheless true that the saga more and more approximates to that
-which is _historically possible_. Moreover, it is not those sagas which
-centre about an historical hero that are particularly apt to be free
-from elements of the original maerchen. Very often the reverse is true.
-An original maerchen-hero may become the central figure of an historical
-saga, and, conversely, the account of an historical personality may
-become so thoroughly interwoven with maerchen-like tales of all sorts
-that history entirely disappears. A striking antithesis of this sort
-occurs in Germanic mythology. Compare the _Dietrich_ saga with the
-later development of the _Niebelungen_ saga in the form rendered
-familiar by the _Niebelungenlied_. Siegfried of the _Niebelungen_ saga
-originates purely as a maerchen-hero; Dietrich of Bern is an historical
-personage. But, while the _Niebelungenlied_ incorporates a considerable
-number of historical elements--though, of course, in an unhistorical
-combination--the Dietrich of the saga retains little more than the name
-of the actual king of the Goths. There are two different conditions
-that give rise to sagas. In the first place, historical events that
-live in folk-memory assimilate materials of ancient maerchen and sagas,
-and thus lead to a connected hero saga. Secondly, an impressive
-historical personality stimulates the transference of older myths as
-well as the creation of others, though these, when woven into a whole,
-resemble a maerchen-cycle rather than a hero saga proper.
-
-An important intermediate phenomenon of the sort just mentioned,
-is not infrequently to be found in a specific form of myth whose
-general nature is that of the hero saga, even though it is usually
-distinguished from the latter because of the character of its heroes.
-I refer to the _religious legend_. Some of these legends, such as the
-Buddha, the Mithra, and the Osiris legends, border upon the deity
-saga. Nevertheless, the religious legend, as exemplified also in the
-mythological versions of the life of Jesus, represents an offshoot of
-the hero saga, springing up at those times when the religious impulses
-are dominant. That it is a hero saga is evidenced particularly by
-the fact that it recounts the life and deeds of a personality who is
-throughout exalted above human stature, but who, nevertheless, attains
-to divinity only through his striving, his suffering, and his final
-victory. In so far, the religious hero very closely resembles the
-older class of heroes. Nevertheless, instead of the hero of the heroic
-period, pre-eminent for his external qualities, we have the religious
-hero, who is exalted by his inner worth into a redeeming god. But it
-is only because these divine redeemers fought and conquered as men--a
-thing that would be impossible to gods proper who are exalted from the
-beginning in supermundane glory--that they constitute heroes of saga,
-in spite of the fact that they fought with other weapons and in other
-ways than the heroes of the heroic age. And, therefore, none of these
-redeemer personalities, whether they have an historical background,
-as have Jesus and Buddha, or originate entirely in the realm of the
-mythological imagination, as in the case of Osiris and Mithra, belong
-to the realm of the saga once they are finally elevated into deities.
-Even Buddha's return in the endless sequence of ages is not to be
-regarded as an exception to this rule, for the hope of salvation here
-merely keeps projecting into the future the traditional Buddha legend.
-The redeeming activity of the one who is exalted into a god is to be
-repeated in essentially the same manner as the saga reports it to have
-occurred in the past.
-
-Contrasting with the redemption legend is the _saint legend_. The
-former portrays the fortunes and final victory of a god in the making;
-the latter tells of the awakening of a human being to a pure religious
-life, of his temptations and sufferings, and his final triumph. Thus,
-it has a resemblance to the redeemer legend, and yet it differs from
-it in that its hero remains human even when he ascends into heaven to
-receive the victor's crown; the lot that thus befalls him is identical
-with that of all the devout, except that he is more favoured. This
-leads to further differences. The hero of the redemption legend is
-conscious of his mission from the very beginning; in the case of
-the saint, conversion to a new faith not infrequently forms the
-starting-point of the legend. Common to the two forms, however, is
-the fact that suffering precedes the final triumph. The traits that
-we have mentioned constitute the essential difference between these
-forms of the legend and the hero saga proper. The latter, also, is not
-without the element of suffering; the Greek saga has developed the
-specific type of a suffering hero in the figure of Hercules, as has
-the German saga in that of Balder. In the case of religious legends,
-however, the strife-motives of the saga are transferred to the inner
-life; similarly, the suffering of the saint, and especially that of
-the redeemer, is not merely physical but also mental. Indeed, the
-original form of the Buddha legend, which is freest from mythological
-accretions, is an illustration of the fact that this suffering may
-be caused exclusively by the evils of the world to be redeemed. The
-suffering due to a most intense sympathy is so intimate a part of the
-very nature of the redeeming god-man, that it is precisely this which
-constitutes the most essential difference between the religious legend
-and the ordinary hero saga, whose interest is centred upon the actions
-and motives of external life. And yet the external martyrdom of the
-redeemer intensifies this difference in a twofold way. In the first
-place, it directly enhances the impression of the inner suffering;
-secondly, it gives heightened expression both to the evil which evokes
-the sympathy of the redeemer, and to the nobility of this sympathy
-itself. In all of these characteristics, however, the redemption
-legend belongs to the following era rather than to hero saga and the
-heroic age.
-
-The saint legend exhibits a number of essential differences. It is
-frequently only through a miracle of conversion, due to external
-powers, that the saint _becomes_ holy; moreover, it is not, as a rule,
-through miracles of his own performance that he manifests himself as
-a saint in the course of his later life and sufferings. The miracles
-that transpire come as divine dispensations from without, whether
-they effect his conversion or surround him, particularly at the close
-of his life's journey, with the halo of sanctity. Thus, to whatever
-extent the saint may come, in later cult, to supersede the protective
-undergods and demons of early times, he nevertheless remains human. It
-is for this very reason, however, that magic and miracle gain a large
-place in his life. The latter is all the more possible by virtue of
-the fact that the mythological imagination is not bound by any fixed
-tradition, and need, therefore, set itself no limits whatsoever either
-in the number of saints or in the nature of their deeds. Moreover,
-the legend is almost totally lacking in those factual elements which
-the hero saga acquires, in its later development, as a result of the
-historical events that are woven into it. This is not the case with
-the legend. Here it is at most the name of an historical personality
-that is retained, while everything else clearly bears the marks of
-imagination and of myth creation. Hence the saint legend is not to
-be counted among the factors that underlie the development from the
-purely mythical tale to the saga, whose content, though not real, is at
-any rate possible. On the contrary, the tendency of the saint legend
-is retrogressive, namely, toward a return to the maerchen stage of
-myth. This is all the more true, not merely because elements that are
-generally characteristic of maerchen are disseminated from legend to
-legend, but also because the saint legend appropriates widely current
-maerchen conceptions. Maerchen of very diverse origins found their way
-into the Christian, as well as the Buddhistic, legends; moreover,
-occasional Buddhistic legends, with the clear marks of an Oriental
-origin upon them, were changed into Christian legends. Thus, the saint
-legend combines two characteristics. As compared with the hero saga,
-its motives are internalized; moreover, it represents a decided relapse
-into the pure maerchen form of myth. Though apparently contradictory,
-these characteristics are really closely related, inasmuch as the
-internalization of motives itself removes any barriers imposed by
-historical recollection upon the free play of the mythological
-imagination.
-
-
-
-13. COSMOGONIC AND THEOGONIC MYTHS.
-
-
-In view of the relationship of heroes and gods, not only with respect
-to origin but also as regards the fact that they both embody personal
-ideals, it would appear but natural, having treated of the hero saga,
-that we inquire at this time concerning the corresponding deity saga. A
-search for the latter, however, will at once reveal a surprising fact.
-There is no deity saga at all, in the sense in which we have a hero
-saga that has become a favourite field of epic and dramatic poetry.
-The reason for this lack is not difficult to see. There can be no real
-deity saga because, in so far as gods possess characteristics which
-differentiate them from men, and therefore also from heroes, they have
-no history. Immortal, unchangeable, unassailable by death or sickness,
-how could experiences such as befall the hero also be the lot of gods?
-If we examine the narratives that approach somewhat to the deity saga,
-we will find that they consist, not of a connected account of the
-experiences of the gods, but of isolated incidents that again centre
-about human life, and particularly about the beneficent or pernicious
-intervention of the gods in the destinies of heroes. We may recall the
-participation of the Greek gods in the Trojan war, or the interest of
-Jahve, in Israelitic saga, in the fortunes of Abraham, Jacob, etc.
-These are isolated occurrences, and not history; or, rather, we are
-given the history of heroes, in which the gods are at times moved to
-intervene. In so far, therefore, as there are approximations to deity
-saga, these, in their entirety, are woven into hero saga; apart from
-the latter, the former but report particular actions, which may,
-doubtless, throw light on the personal character of the god, but which
-of themselves do not constitute a connected history. Greek mythology
-offers a clear illustration of this in the so-called Homeric hymns.
-These hymns must not be ascribed to Homer or merely to singers of
-Homeric times. They are of later composition, and are designed for
-use in cult. Their value consists precisely in the fact that they
-portray the god by reference to the various directions of his activity,
-thus throwing light partly on the nature of the god and partly, and
-especially, on his beneficent rulership of the human world. It is this
-last fact that gives these poems the character of religious hymns.
-
-Nevertheless, there is _one_ class of myths in which the gods
-themselves actually appear to undergo experiences. I refer to those
-sagas and poems which are concerned with the birth of the gods,
-and with the origin of their rulership over the world and over the
-world-order which they have created, namely, to the _cosmogonic_ and
-_theogonic_ myths. These myths relate solely to a world of demons and
-gods, and they deal, as a rule, with an age prior to the existence of
-man, or with one in which the creation of man is but a single episode.
-Again, however, one might almost say that the exception proves the
-rule. For upon close examination it will be found that the gods who
-figure in these cosmogonies are not those with whose traits the hero
-saga, and the hymnology connected with it, have made us familiar.
-The gods whom the cosmogonic myths portray differ from those who
-protect and direct human life. They are not real gods, even though
-they bear this name, but are powerful demons. Except in name, the
-Zeus of Hesiodic theogony has scarcely anything in common with the
-Zeus of the Homeric hierarchy of gods. This fact does not reflect any
-peculiarity of the poet, as it were, but is due to the nature of the
-subject-matter itself. Even though theogonic myths were not elaborated
-into poetic form until a relatively late period, they are nevertheless
-of a primitive nature. Analogues to them had existed among primitive
-peoples long before the rise of the hero saga, hence at an age when
-the preconditions of god-ideas proper were still entirely lacking.
-The cosmogonic gods of the Greeks and Germans, as well as those of
-the ancient Babylonians, are of the nature of purely demoniacal
-beings. They lack the chief attribute of a god, namely, personality.
-Moreover, the myths themselves--if we disregard their form, which was
-the product of later literary composition--are not at all superior to
-the cosmogonies of the Polynesians and of many of the native tribes
-of North America. Obviously, therefore, it betokens a confusion of
-god-ideas proper with these cosmogonic beings, when it is maintained,
-as sometimes occurs, that the mythology of these primitive peoples,
-especially that of the Polynesians, is of a particularly advanced
-character. This should not be claimed for it, but neither may this be
-said of the Hesiodic theogony or the Babylonian creation myths. It
-is true that these myths are superior to the earlier forms of demon
-belief, for they at least develop a connected view of the origin of
-things. Primitive myth accepts the world as given. The origin of the
-world-order as a whole still lies beyond its field of inquiry. Though
-it occasionally relates how animals came into being, its imagination is
-essentially concerned with the origin of man, whom it regards as having
-sprung from stones or plants, or as having crept up out of caves. Even
-when this stage is transcended and an actual cosmogony arises, the
-latter nevertheless remains limited to the circle of demon conceptions,
-which are essentially the same in the myths of civilized peoples as in
-those of so-called peoples of nature. According to a cosmogonic myth of
-the Polynesians, for example, heaven and earth were originally a pair
-of mighty gods united in embrace. The sons who were born to these gods
-strove to free themselves and their parents from this embrace. Placing
-himself on the floor of mother earth, therefore, and extending his feet
-toward the heavens, one of these sons pushed father heaven upward, so
-that ever since that time heaven and earth have been separated. This
-mistreatment aroused another of the divine sons, the god of the winds.
-Thus a strife arose, whose outcome was a peaceful condition of things.
-This is a cosmogonic myth whose essential elements belong to the same
-circle of ideas as the cosmogony of the Greeks. In the latter also,
-Uranus and Gaea are said to have held each other in an embrace, as the
-result of which there came the race of the Titans. One might regard
-this as a case of transference were the idea not obviously a grotesque
-development of a maerchen-motive found even at a more primitive period.
-According to the latter, heaven and earth were originally in contact,
-and were first separated by a human being of prehistoric times--an idea
-undoubtedly suggested by the roofing-over of the hut. The Babylonian
-myth gives a different version of the same conception. It ascribes the
-separation of heaven and earth to the powerful god Marduk, who cleaves
-in two the original mother Thiamat. From one part, came the sea; from
-the other, the celestial ocean. As in many other nature myths, heaven
-is here conceived as a great sea which forms the continuation, at the
-borders of the earth, of the terrestrial sea. This then suggests the
-further idea that the crescent moon is a boat moving over the celestial
-ocean.
-
-In all of these myths the gods are given the characteristics of mighty
-demons. They appear as the direct descendants of the ancient cloud,
-water, and weather demons, merely magnified into giant stature in
-correspondence with their enormous theatre of action. Thus, as regards
-content, these cosmogonic myths are maerchen of a very primitive type,
-far inferior to the developed maerchen-myths, whose heroes have already
-acquired traits of a more personal sort. In form, however, cosmogonic
-myths strive towards the gigantic, and thus lie far above the level of
-the maerchen-myth. Though the complete lack of ethical traits renders
-the gods of cosmogonic myths inferior in sublimity to gods proper,
-they nevertheless rival the latter in powerful achievement. Indeed,
-however much cosmogony may fail to give its gods the characteristics
-requisite for true gods, it does inevitably serve to enhance the divine
-attribute of power. A further similarity of cosmogonic and theogonic
-myths to the most primitive maerchen-myths appears in the fact that
-they seem directly to borrow certain elements from widely disseminated
-maerchen-motives. I mention only the story of Kronos. Kronos, according
-to the myth, devours his children. But his wife, Rhea, withholds
-the last of these--namely, Zeus--giving him instead a stone wrapped
-in linen; hereupon Kronos gives forth, together with the stone, all
-the children that he had previously devoured. This is a maerchen of
-devourment, similar or derivative forms of which are common. For
-example, Sikulume, a South African maerchen-hero, delays pursuing giants
-by throwing behind him a large stone which he has besmeared with fat;
-the giants devour the stone and thus lose trace of the fugitive.
-
-But there is also other evidence that cosmogonic myths are of the
-nature of maerchen, magnified into the immense and superhuman. In
-almost all such myths, particularly in the more advanced forms, as
-found among cultural peoples, an important place is occupied by _two_
-conceptions. The first of these conceptions is that the creation of
-the world was preceded by _chaos_. This chaos is conceived either as a
-terrifying abyss, as in Germanic and particularly in Greek mythology,
-or as a world-sea encompassing the earth, as in the Babylonian history
-of creation. In both cases we find ideas of terrible demons. Sometimes
-these demons are said to remain on the earth, as beings of a very
-ancient time anteceding the creation--examples are Night and Darkness,
-described in Greek mythology as the children of Chaos. Other myths
-represent the demons as having been overcome by the world-creating god.
-Thus there is a Babylonian saga that tells of an original being which
-enveloped the earth in the form of a snake, but whose body was used
-by the god in forming the heavens. As a second essential element of
-cosmogonies we find accounts of _battles of the gods_, in which hostile
-demons are vanquished and a kingdom of order and peace is established.
-These demons are thought of as powerful monsters. They induce a live
-consciousness of the terrors of chaos, not only by their size and
-strength but often also by their grotesque, half-animal, half-human
-forms, by their many heads or hundreds of arms. Obviously these
-Titans, giants, Cyclopes, and other terrible beings of cosmogony are
-the direct descendants of the weather demons who anteceded the gods.
-Does not the idea of a world-catastrophe that prepares the way for the
-rulership of the gods at once bring to mind the image of a terrible
-thunderstorm? As the storm is followed by the calm of nature, so chaos
-is succeeded by the peaceful rulership of the gods. Inasmuch, however,
-as the gods are the conquerors of the storm demons, they themselves
-inevitably revert into demoniacal beings. It is only after the victory
-has been won that they are again regarded as inhabiting a divine world
-conceived in analogy with the human State, and that they are vested
-with control over the order and security of the world.
-
-All this goes to show that cosmogonic myths, in the poetic forms
-in which cosmogonies have come down to us, are relatively late
-mythological products. True, they represent the gods themselves as
-demoniacal beings. Nevertheless, this does not imply that god-ideas
-did not exist at the time of their composition; it indicates merely
-that the enormous diversity of factors involved in the creation
-of the world inevitably caused the gods to lose the attributes of
-personal beings. The cosmogonies of cultural peoples, however, differ
-from the otherwise similar stories of those semi-cultural peoples
-whose mythology consists exclusively of such cosmogonic maerchen. In
-the latter case, real god-ideas are lacking. The gods have remained
-essentially demons. In the higher forms of this semi-culture, where
-political development has had an influence on the world of gods, as
-was once the case among the peoples of Mexico and Peru, divine beings
-may approximate to real gods. In cosmogonic myths themselves, however,
-this never occurs. Thus, these myths invariably constitute a stage
-intermediate between the mythology of demons and that of gods; they may
-originate, however--and this is what probably happens in the majority
-of cases--through a relapse of gods into demons. An illustration of
-the latter is the Hesiodic cosmogony. The weather-myth which the poet
-has elaborated obviously incorporated ancient maerchen-myths that do
-not differ essentially from the original maerchen as to content, but
-only as respects their grotesque and gigantic outlines. Compared with
-the gods of the hero saga, therefore, the cosmogonic myths of cultural
-peoples are of relatively late origin; to discuss the latter first, as
-is still done in our accounts of the mythology of the Greeks, Germans,
-etc., may easily lead to misconceptions. Of course, the creation of
-the world came first, but it is not at all true that the myth of the
-world's creation anteceded all others. On the contrary, the latter is
-a late and sometimes, perhaps, the last product of the mythological
-imagination. This is particularly apt to be the case where, as so
-clearly appears in the Biblical account of the creation, there is
-involved a specific _religious_ impulse that is seeking to glorify
-the world-creating god. This religious impulse imposes upon the older
-mythical material a new character. Hence we find that, of the two
-elements universally characteristic of the cosmogonic myth, it is only
-the idea of chaos that is retained, while the account of struggles with
-the monsters of earliest times disappears. Nevertheless, though the
-creating god has lost his demoniacal character, he has not yet attained
-a fully developed personality;--this is precluded by the enormity of
-the world, which transcends all human measure. He himself is in every
-respect an unlimited personal will, and is, therefore, really just as
-much a _superpersonal_ being as the battling gods of other cosmogonies
-are subpersonal. That such a cosmogony, unique in this respect, may be
-original, is, of course, impossible. Indeed, the dominant conviction
-of Oriental antiquarians to-day is that the Biblical account of the
-creation rests on older and more primitive ideas derived from the
-Babylonian cosmogony, whose main outlines we have described above. This
-may doubtless be true, and yet no compelling proof of the contention
-can be adduced, for it is precisely those features in which both
-accounts are identical--namely, chaos, the original darkness, and the
-separating and ordering activity of the god--that are common property
-to almost all cosmogonies. The Biblical account of the creation,
-however, may not be classed with myths. It is a religious production
-of priests who were dominated by the thought that the national god
-rules over the people of Israel and over the world. Hence alone could
-it substitute a creation out of _nothing_ for the ordering of a chaos,
-though the latter feature also persists in the Biblical account. The
-substitution, of course, dates from a later time than the myth, and
-represents a glorification of divine omnipotence which is entirely
-impossible to the latter.
-
-A sort of offshoot of cosmogonic myths, though in striking antithesis
-to them, is the _flood saga_. This still retains, in their entirety,
-the characteristics of the original maerchen-myth. It belongs to a
-variety of widely prevalent myths which, like the creation myths,
-appear to some extent to have originated independently in various
-parts of the earth, but also to have spread widely from one region
-to another. Evidence indicative of the independent origin of many of
-these sagas is to be found in the fact that, in many tropical regions,
-accounts of a flood, or so-called deluge sagas (_Sintflutsagen_), are
-represented by sagas of conflagration (_Sintbrandsagen_), according to
-which the world was destroyed, not by a general deluge, but by fire. In
-neither word has the prefix _Sint_ any connection with _Suende_ (sin),
-with which popular etymology commonly connects it. _Sint_ (old high
-German _sin_) is a word that has disappeared from modern German and
-means 'universal.' A _Sintflut_, thus, is a _universal_, in distinction
-from a merely local, flood. In so far, the sagas of universal flood
-and conflagration already approximate to the myths relating to the
-destruction of the world. Now, the Biblical story of the flood has
-so many elements in common with that of the Babylonians that we
-are compelled to assume a borrowing, and hence a transference, of
-material. The rescue of a single man and his household, the taking of
-animals into the ship, its landing upon the summit of a mountain, the
-dispatching of birds in quest of land--of these elements, some might
-possibly have originated independently in different parts of the earth.
-The rescue of individuals, for example, is included in almost all
-flood and conflagration legends, the direct source of the idea being
-the connection between the antediluvian and postdiluvian worlds. Of the
-combination of all of these elements into a whole, however, we may say
-without hesitation that it could not have arisen twice independently.
-The universal motive of the flood saga and that which led to its origin
-in numerous localities, without any influence on the part of foreign
-ideas, is obviously the rain as it pours down from the heavens. For
-this reason flood sagas are particularly common wherever rain causes
-devastating and catastrophic floods, whereas they are lacking in such
-regions as the Egyptian delta, where there are periodic inundations
-by the sea, as well as in the Arabian peninsula and in the rainless
-portions of Africa. As a rule, therefore, they are both rain sagas and
-flood sagas. They naturally suggest, further, the idea of a boatman
-who rescues himself in a boat and lands upon a mountain. According to
-an American flood myth which has preserved more faithfully than that
-of western Asia the character of the maerchen, the mountain upon which
-the boatman lands rises with the flood and settles again as the flood
-subsides.
-
-The flood sagas of cultural peoples, however, combine these very
-ancient maerchen elements with a projection of the cosmogonic myth
-into a later event of human history. The flood deluging the earth is
-a return to chaos; indeed, often, as in the sagas of western Asia,
-chaos itself is represented as a mighty abyss of water. This is then
-connected with the idea of a punishment in which the god destroys
-what he has created, preserving from the universal destruction only
-the righteous man who has proved worthy of such salvation. Thus,
-the universal flood (_Sintflut_) actually develops into a sin flood
-(_Suendflut_). This change, of course, represents an elaboration on
-the part of priests, who projected the religious-ethical feature
-of a divine judgment into what was doubtless originally a purely
-mythological saga, just as they transformed the creation myth into a
-hymn to the omnipotence of the deity. But this prepares the way for
-a further step. The counterpart of these cosmological conceptions
-is projected not merely into a past which marks the beginning of
-the present race of men, but also into the future. Over against the
-transitory world-catastrophe of the universal flood, there looms the
-final catastrophe of the actual destruction of the world, and over
-against a preliminary judgment of the past, the final judgment, at
-which this life ends and that of the yonder world begins.
-
-Thus, we come to the _myths of world destruction_, as they are
-transmitted in the apocalyptic writings of later Israelitic literature
-and in the Apocalypse of John, who betrays the influence of the earlier
-writers. At this point we leave the realm of myth proper. The latter
-is always concerned with events of the past or, in extreme cases, with
-those of the immediate present. No doubt, the desires of men may reach
-out indefinitely into the future. Myth narrative, however, in the
-narrower sense of the term, takes no account of that which lies beyond
-the present. In general, moreover, its scene of action is the existing
-world, however much this may be embellished by the imagination. Myth
-reaches its remotest limit in cosmogonies. Even here, however, no
-absolute limit is attained, for the world-creation is represented as
-having been preceded by chaos. The idea of a creation out of nothing,
-which dislodges the idea of an original chaos, arises from religious
-needs and is not mythological in character. Similarly, the apocalyptic
-myth of world-destruction has passed beyond the stage of the myth
-proper. It is a mythological conception, which, though combining
-elements of the cosmogonic myth with fragments of maerchen and sagas,
-is, in the main, the expression of a religious need for a world beyond.
-These myths, therefore, are not original myth creations, as are the
-cosmogonic myths, at least in part. They are the product of religious
-reflection, and, as such, they are dominated primarily by the desire
-to strengthen the righteous in his hopes and to terrify his adversary.
-Thus, the history of the cosmogonic myth here repeats itself in a
-peculiarly inverted form. With the exception of occasional survivals,
-the religious hymn, which is the ripest development of the cosmogonic
-myth, excludes the struggles of demons and wild monsters of the deep;
-the myth of the destruction of the world, on the other hand, constantly
-seeks, by its fantastic imagery, to magnify fears and punishments, as
-well as blessed hopes. As a result, all these accounts clearly bear
-the traces of a laborious invention seeking to surpass itself and thus
-to atone for the lack of original mythological imagination. We may
-call to mind the monster which the Book of Daniel describes as coming
-forth from the sea, provided with enormous iron teeth, and bearing
-on its head ten horns, among which an eleventh horn appears, which
-possesses eyes, and a mouth that speaks blasphemous words. Such things
-may be invented by the intellect, but they are impossible as natural
-creations of the mythological imagination. The motives underlying
-such exaggerations beyond the mythologically possible are to be found
-in factors which, though extending far back into the beginnings of
-mythology, nevertheless attain their development primarily in this age
-of gods and heroes. These factors are the _ideas of the beyond_.
-
-
-
-14. THE BELIEF IN SOULS AND IN A WORLD BEYOND.
-
-
-Closely connected with the cosmogonic myth are the ideas of a world
-beyond into which man may enter at the close of the present life.
-Before such ideas could arise, there must have been some general
-world-conception into which they could be fitted. The ideas of
-a beyond, therefore, are but constituent elements of cosmogonic
-conceptions; indeed, they are confined to relatively advanced forms of
-the latter. This is indicated by the fact that the earlier mythological
-creations contain no clearly defined notions of a beyond. Where there
-is no definite world-view, such conceptions, of course, are impossible.
-Thus, the two ideas mutually reinforce each other. The cosmogonic myth
-gives a large setting to the ideas of a beyond; the latter, in turn,
-contribute to the details of the world picture which the cosmogonic
-myth has created. At any rate, when poetry and philosophy, in their
-endeavour to construct a coherent cosmogony, began to appropriate
-celestial myths, ideas of a life after death and of a world beyond were
-already in existence. Some of these ideas, indeed, date back to an
-early period.
-
-It is an extremely, significant fact that, wherever we can trade their
-development at all, these ideas of a beyond follow the same definite
-and orderly course. The direction of this development is determined not
-only by the cosmogonic myth but also by the ideas regarding the soul.
-The formation of ideas of a beyond is impossible without a world-view
-transcending the limits of earthly existence; the latter, however,
-results from the need of ascribing to the soul a continuance after
-death. This need, of course, is not an original one, but is essentially
-conditioned by the age of gods. Among primitive peoples, the beginnings
-of a belief in a life after death are to be found chiefly in connection
-with the fear of the demon of the dead, who may bring sickness and
-death to the living. But just as the fear is of short duration, so
-also is the survival after death limited to a brief period. On a
-somewhat more advanced stage, as perhaps among the Soudan peoples, most
-of the Melanesian tribes, and the forest-dwelling Indians of South
-America, it is especially the prominent men, the tribal chiefs, who,
-just as they survive longest in memory, are also supposed to enjoy a
-longer after-life. This conception, however, remains indefinite and
-of a demoniacal character, just as does that of the soul. In all of
-these conceptions, therefore, the disembodied soul is represented
-as remaining within this world. It continues its existence in the
-environment; as yet there is no yonder-world in the strict sense of
-the word. It is important, moreover, to distinguish the early ideas
-of a beyond from the above-mentioned celestial maerchen which narrate
-how certain human beings ascended into heaven. The latter are purely
-maerchen of adventure, in which sun, moon, stars, and clouds, as well
-as the terrestrial monsters, dwarfs, gnomes, etc., are conceived of
-as belonging to the visible world. Indeed, these celestial travellers
-are not infrequently represented as returning unharmed to their
-terrestrial home. Thus, these tales generally lack the idea which,
-from the outset, is essential to the conception of a yonder-world--the
-idea, namely, of _the sojourn of the soul at definite places_, whether
-these be thought of as on, under, or above the earth. Here again, it
-is characteristic that at first this region is located approximately
-midway between this world and the one beyond. The belief takes the
-form of a _spirit-village_, a conception prevalent especially among
-the tribes of American Indians. Inaccessible to living beings and in
-some secret part of the earth, there is supposed to be a village. In
-this village the spirits of the dead are thought to assemble, and
-to continue their existence in precisely the same manner as before
-death, hunting and fighting just as they did in their earthly life.
-The spirit-village itself is described as exactly like an ordinary
-village. Characteristic of the totemic setting which all of these
-ideas still possess, is the fact that among many of the Indians of the
-prairies there is thought to be not only a spirit-village but also a
-buffalo-village, where the dead buffaloes congregate, and into which,
-according to the maerchen, an adventurous youth may occasionally stray.
-Sometimes, moreover, these tales give more specific accounts of the way
-in which such villages are rendered inaccessible. A river spanned by an
-almost impassable bridge, or a dense, impenetrable forest, separates
-the spirit-village from the habitations of the living. Ravines and
-mountain caves may either themselves serve as the dwelling-places
-of the spirits or form the approaches to them. In addition to these
-conceptions, there are also others, which have, in part, found a place,
-even in later mythology. The dead are, represented as dwelling, not in
-some accessible part of the earth, but on remote islands. Such ideas
-are common in Polynesia, and also in other island and coast regions.
-Even in Homer we come upon the picture of a distant island. It is
-here that Menelaus found rescue on his return from Troy. The island
-is described as a place of happiness, where only the privileged among
-mortals are granted a blessed future.
-
-A second and, on the whole, an obviously later form of ideas of a
-beyond, are the _myths of the nether world_. These for the first time
-tell of a beyond which is by its very nature inaccessible to human
-beings, or which is visited by only a few divinely privileged heroes,
-such as Hercules, Odysseus, and Aeneas. As a third and last form of
-ideas of a beyond, we may mention those of a _heaven_, where dwell the
-dead, in the presence of the gods. As a rule, however, this heavenly
-beyond does not lead to the disappearance of the nether world. Rather
-are the two worlds set over against each other, as the result of the
-enhancement of an antithesis which arose even in connection with
-the realms of the nether world. The heaven becomes the abode of the
-blessed, of the devout and righteous, the favoured of the gods; the
-underworld continues, at the outset, to be the lot of the majority
-of human beings. The growing desire to participate in the joys of
-blessedness, then causes the privilege which was at first enjoyed
-only by a minority to become more universal, and the underworld is
-transformed into the abode of the guilty and the condemned. Finally,
-heaven becomes possible even for the latter, through the agency, more
-particularly, of magical purification and religious ecstasy.
-
-Of the various ideas of the beyond that successively arise in this
-development, those regarding the underworld are the most common and the
-most permanent. This is probably due in no small measure to the custom
-of _burying the corpse_. Here the entrance into the underworld is, to
-a certain extent, directly acted out before the eyes of the observers,
-even though the mythological imagination may later create quite a
-different picture of the event. The custom of burial, however, cannot
-have been the exclusive source of these ideas, nor perhaps even the
-most important one. In the Homeric world, the corpse was not buried,
-but burned. And yet it is to Homer that we owe one of the clearest
-of the older descriptions of the underworld, and it can scarcely be
-doubted that the main outlines of this picture were derived from
-popular conceptions. As a matter of fact, there is another factor,
-purely psychological in character, which is here obviously of greater
-force than are tribal customs. This is the fear of death, and the
-terror of that which awaits man after death. This fear creates the idea
-of a ghostly and terrible region of the dead, cold as the corpse itself
-and dark as the world must appear to its closed eyes. But that which
-is thought of as dark and cold is the interior of the earth, for such
-are the characteristics of mountain caves that harbour uncanny animals.
-The underworld, also, is stocked with creations of fear, particularly
-with subterranean animals, such as toads, salamanders, and snakes of
-monstrous and fantastic forms. Many of the terrible beings which later
-myths represent as living on the earth probably originated as monsters
-of the underworld. Examples of this are the Furies, the Keres, and the
-Harpies of the Greeks. It was only as the result of a later influence,
-not operative at the time of the original conceptions of Hades, that
-myth permitted these beings to wander about the upper world. This
-change was due to the pangs of conscience, which transforms the ghosts
-of the underworld into frightful, avenging beings, and then, as a
-result of the misery visited even upon the living because of the crimes
-which they have committed, transfers them to the mundane world. Here
-they pursue particularly the one who has committed sacrilege against
-the gods, and also him whose sin is regarded as especially grievous,
-such as the parricide or matricide. Thus, with the internalization of
-the fear impulse, the demoniacal forms which the latter creates are
-brought forth from the subterranean darkness and are made to mingle
-with the living. Similarly, the joyous and hope-inspiring ideas of a
-beyond are projected still farther upward, and are elevated beyond
-the regions of this earth into heavenly spaces that seem even more
-inaccessible than the underworld. Prior to the age, however, which
-regards the heaven as the abode of the blessed, many peoples--possibly
-all who advanced to this notion of two worlds--entertained a different
-conception. This conception represents, perhaps, the surviving
-influence of the earlier ideas of spirit-islands. For the underworld
-was itself regarded as including, besides places of horror, brighter
-regions, into which, either through the direct favour of the gods or in
-accordance with a judgment pronounced upon the dead, the souls of the
-pure and righteous are received. As a result of the division which thus
-occurred, and of the antithesis in which these images of the beyond
-came to stand, pain and torment were added to the impressions of horror
-and hopelessness which the original conceptions of the underworld
-aroused. The contrasts that developed, however, did not prevent the
-underworld from being regarded as including both the region of pain
-and that of bliss. This seems to have been the prevalent notion among
-Semitic as well as Indo-Germanic peoples. The Walhalla of the Germans
-was also originally thought to be located in the underworld, and it is
-possible that it was not transferred to the heavens until the advent of
-Christianity. For, indeed, we are not familiar with Germanic mythology
-except as it took form within the period in which Christianity had
-already become widespread among the German tribes.
-
-An important change in the ideas of the beyond now took place. The
-separation of the abodes of spirits gradually led to a distinction
-between the deities who were regarded as the rulers of the two regions.
-Originally, so long as only the fear of death found expression in the
-unvarying gloom of the underworld, these deities were but vaguely
-defined. The conceptions formed of them seem to have reflected the
-ideas of rulership derived from real life, just as was true in the
-case of the supermundane gods. Indeed, the origin of the more definite
-conception that the underworld is a separate region ruled by its
-own gods, must probably be traced to the influence of the ideas of
-celestial gods. But there is a still more primitive feature of myths
-of the beyond, one that goes back to their very beginnings, and that
-long survives in saga and maerchen. This is the preference shown by
-myths of the nether world for _female_ beings, whether as subordinate
-personifications of fear or as deities. Not only is the ideal of beauty
-and grace thought of as a female deity, an Aphrodite perhaps, but
-the psychological law of the intensification of contrasts causes also
-the fearful and terrifying sorts of deities to assume the feminine
-form. Such a gruesome and terrible goddess is exemplified by the Norse
-Hel, or, widely remote from her in time and space, by the Babylonian
-Ereksigal. In the Greek underworld also, it is Persephone who rules,
-and not Pluto, her consort. The latter seems to have been introduced
-merely in order that the underworld might have a counterpart to
-the celestial pair of rulers, Zeus and Hera. If the fear-inspiring
-attributes are not so pronounced in the Greek Persephone, this is due
-to the fact that in this case agricultural myths have combined with the
-underworld myths. To this combination we must later recur, inasmuch
-as it is of great significance for cult. The dominant place given
-to the female deity in the underworld myth, again brings the nether
-world into a noteworthy contrast with the supermundane realm of gods.
-In the latter, male gods, as the direct embodiments of a superhuman
-hero-ideal, are always predominant.
-
-It is not alone the inner forces of fear and horror that cause the
-realm of the dead to be thought of as located in the interior of the
-earth. There is operative also an external influence imparted by
-Nature herself, namely, the perception of the setting sun. Wherever
-particular attention is called to some one entrance to the underworld,
-or where a distant region of the earth is regarded as the abode of the
-dead, this is located in the west, in the direction of the setting
-sun. We have here a striking example of that form of mythological
-association and assimilation in which the phenomena of external nature,
-and particularly those of the heavens, exert an influence upon myth
-development. It would, of course, be incorrect to assert that the
-setting sun alone suggested the idea of an underworld. We must rather
-say that this phenomenon was obviously a subordinate and secondary
-factor. Its influence was not clearly and consciously apprehended even
-as affecting the location of the underworld, though this location was
-determined solely by it. Because of its connection with approaching
-night, the setting sun came to be associated with all those feelings
-that caused the underworld to be regarded as a realm of shadows and of
-terrifying darkness. It was the combination of all these factors, and
-not any single one of them--least of all, a relatively secondary one,
-such as the sunset--that created and so long maintained the potency of
-this most permanent of all the ideas of a beyond.
-
-Mention should also be made of the influence exerted, even at an early
-time, by soul-ideas. At the beginning of the heroic age, it was almost
-universally believed that after death _all_ human beings lead a dull,
-monotonous life under the earth, or, as Homer portrayed it, heightening
-the uniformity, that all lapse into an unconscious existence. Obviously
-these ideas were determined, in part, by the phenomena of sleep and
-dreams. Just as death seemed a protracted sleep, so did the dream
-come to foreshadow the life after death. The characteristics of
-dream images, therefore, came to be attributed to the souls of the
-underworld. The latter, it was thought, are visible, but, like shadows,
-they elude the hand that grasps them and move about fleetly from place
-to place. This shadow-existence is a fate that is common to all. It
-is only exceptionally flagrant transgressions against the gods that
-call forth punishments which not merely overtake the guilty in this
-world but may also continue in the next. Such figures, therefore, as
-are described in connection with Odysseus' journey to Hades--Sisyphus,
-who must unceasingly roll uphill a stone that is constantly rolling
-back, and Tantalus, who languishes with hopeless desire for the fruits
-suspended above his head--are not as yet to be regarded as expressing
-ideas of retribution, even though they may be anticipatory of them.
-Perhaps, also, it is not without significance that these accounts
-are probably later accretions, of which the Homeric poems contain a
-considerable number, particularly the Odyssey, which is so rich in
-maerchen elements.
-
-Gradually, however, that which at first occurs only in occasional
-instances becomes more universal; the distinction in destinies comes to
-be regarded as applying generally. The earlier and exceptional cases of
-entrance into a world of the blessed or of particular punishments in
-Hades were connected with the favour or anger of the gods. Similarly,
-that which finally makes the distinction a universal one is religious
-cult. The object of cult is to propitiate the gods; their favour is to
-be won through petitions and magical acts. The gods are to grant not
-merely a happy lot in this world but also the assurance of permanent
-happiness in the next. Before this striving the shadows of the
-underworld give way. Though the underworld continues, on the whole, to
-remain a place of sorrow, it nevertheless comes to include a number of
-brighter regions in which the righteous may enjoy such happiness as
-they experienced in this world, without suffering its distresses and
-evil. It was this that early led to the formation of cult associations.
-Even during the transition of totemic tribal organization into States
-and deity cults, such religious associations sprang up out of the
-older totemic groups. During this period, the conditions of descent
-and of tribal segregation still imposed limitations upon the religious
-associations. These limitations, however, were transcended on the stage
-of deity cults, as appears primarily in the case of the Greek mysteries
-and of other secret cults of the Graeco-Roman period, such as the
-mysteries of Mithra, Attis, Osiris, and Serapis. No doubt, the extreme
-forms of the cults prevalent in an age thoroughly conscious of a deep
-need for salvation were bound up with the specific cultural conditions
-of that age. And yet these cults but bring out in particularly sharp
-relief certain traits which, though they are not clearly apparent until
-later, are quite universally characteristic of the deity-worship of
-the heroic era. These cults arise only when the early heroic ideal,
-embodying certain external characteristics, has disappeared, having
-given way more and more to inner ideals, connected with religion
-and morality. This, however, occurs at the very time when minds are
-beginning to be more deeply troubled by the terrors of the underworld,
-and when, in contrast with this, the imagination creates glowing
-pictures of the future, for whose realization it turns to the gods.
-Thus arises the idea of a special region of the underworld, allotted
-to those cult-associates who have been particularly meritorious in
-the performance of religious duties. These will enter into Elysium, a
-vale of joy and splendour which, though a part of the underworld, is
-nevertheless remote from the regions of sorrow. Here the blessed will
-abide after death. This Elysium is no longer a distant island intended
-as a refuge for occasional individuals, but belongs to the established
-order of the underworld itself. In the sixth book of the Aeneid,
-Virgil has sketched, with poetic embellishments, a graphic picture of
-this abode of the blessed as it was conceived, in his day, under the
-confluence of ancient mythical traditions and new religious impulses--a
-portrayal which forms perhaps the most valuable part of the whole poem.
-For, in it, the poet presents a living picture of what was believed and
-was striven for by many of his contemporaries.
-
-In closest connection with this separation of realms in the underworld,
-is the introduction of judgeship. It devolves upon the judge of the
-underworld to determine whether the soul is to be admitted to the vale
-of joy or is to be banished into Orcus. It is significant that, in
-his picture of the underworld, Virgil entrusts this judgeship to the
-same Rhadamanthus with whom we are familiar from the Odyssey as the
-ruler of the distant island of the blessed. Obviously the poet himself
-recognized that these later conceptions developed from the earlier idea
-that salvation comes as a result of divine favour. After the separation
-of the region of the blessed from that of the outcasts, a further
-division is made; the two regions of the underworld are partitioned
-into subregions according to degrees of terror and torment, on the one
-hand, and of joy and blessedness, on the other. Gradations of terror
-are first instituted, those of blessedness following only later and in
-an incomplete form. The subjective factor, which precludes differences
-in degree when joy is at the maximum, is in constant rivalry with the
-objective consideration that the merits of the righteous may differ,
-and, therefore, also their worthiness to enjoy the presence of the
-deity. In contrast with this, is the much stronger influence exerted
-by the factor of punishment. The shadowy existence of souls in Homer's
-Hades is not regarded as a penalty, but merely as the inevitable
-result of departure from the circle of the living. Only when the hope
-of Elysium has become just as universal as the fear of Hades, does
-the latter become a place of punishment, and the former a region of
-rewards. Just as language itself is very much richer in words denoting
-forms of suffering than in those for joy, so also does the mythological
-imagination exhibit much greater fertility in the portrayal of the
-pains of the underworld than in the glorification of the Elysian
-fields. All the horrors that human cruelty can invent are carried
-over from the judicial administration of this world into that of the
-beyond. Gradations in the magnitude of punishments are reflected in the
-location of the regions appointed for them. The deepest region of the
-underworld is the most terrible. Above this, is the place where those
-sojourn who may enter Elysium at some future time, after successfully
-completing a period of probation.
-
-The contrast which first appears in the form of a separation of the
-realms of torment and blessedness, of punishment and reward, is then
-carried to a further stage, again by the aid of ideas of a spacial
-gradation. No longer are all mortals compelled to enter the underworld;
-this not only loses its terrors for the blessed, but the righteous and
-beloved of the gods are not required to descend into it at all. Their
-souls ascend to heaven--a lot reserved in olden times exclusively for
-heroes who were exalted into gods. With this, the separation becomes
-complete: the souls of the righteous rise to the bright realms of
-heaven, those of the godless are cast into the depths. Among both the
-Semitic and the Indo-Germanic peoples, the antithesis of heaven and
-hell was established at a relatively late period. Its first clear
-development is probably to be found among the ancient Iranians, in
-connection with the early cosmogonic myths. Here the battle which the
-creation-myths of other cultural peoples represent as being fought
-between gods and demons is portrayed as the struggle of _two_ divine
-beings. One of these is thought to rule over the regions of light above
-the earth and the other over the subterranean darkness. True, this
-contrast is also brought out in the battles described by other peoples
-as between gods and demons, and this surely has been a factor leading
-to the incorporation of the Iranian myth into the ideas of the beyond
-elsewhere entertained. The distinctive feature of Iranian cosmogony
-and that which gave its dualism an unusual influence upon religion
-and cult is the fact that the original cosmic war was restricted
-to a single hostile pair of gods, Ormuzd (Ahuramazda) and Ahriman
-(Angramainju). Here also, however, Ahriman is the leader of a host of
-demons--a clear indication that the myth is based on the universal
-conception of a battle with demons. This similarity was doubtless
-all the more favourable to the influence of the Iranian dualism upon
-other religions, inasmuch as the separation of ideas of the beyond
-had obviously already quite generally taken place independently of
-such influence, having resulted from universal motives of cult. The
-fact, however, that the battle was not waged, as in other mythologies,
-between gods and demons, but between two divine personalities, led to
-a further essential change. The battle no longer takes place on the
-earth, as did that of Zeus and the Titans, but between a god of light,
-enthroned on high, and a dark god of the underworld. This spacial
-antithesis was probably connected by the ancient Iranians with that of
-the two ideas of the soul, the corporeal soul, fettered to earth, and
-the spiritual soul, the psyche, soaring on high. Herein may possibly
-lie the explanation of a curious custom which markedly distinguished
-the Iranians from other Indo-Germanic peoples. The former neither
-buried nor burned their dead, but exposed them on high scaffolds, as
-food for the birds. It almost seems as though the 'platform-disposal,'
-commonly practised in totemic times and mentioned above (p. 216),
-had here been taken over into later culture; the only change would
-appear to be that, in place of the low mound of earth upon which the
-corpse was left to decompose, there is substituted a high scaffolding,
-doubtless designed to facilitate the ascent of the soul to heaven.
-Furthermore, many passages in the older Avesta point out that the
-exposure of the corpse destroys the corporeal soul, rendering the
-spiritual soul all the freer to ascend to heaven. This is the same
-antithesis between corporeal soul and psyche that long continues to
-assert itself in later conceptions. Indeed, it also occurs, interwoven
-with specifically Christian conceptions, in many passages of the
-Epistles of the Apostle Paul, where the corporeal soul survives in the
-idea of the sinfulness of the flesh, and where, in the mortification of
-the flesh, we still have a faint echo of the Iranian customs connected
-with the dead.
-
-Thus, the ideas of a twofold beyond and of a twofold soul mutually
-reinforce each other. Henceforth the heavenly realm is the abode of
-the pure and blessed spirits; the underworld, that of the wicked,
-who retain their sensuous natures even in the beyond, and who must,
-therefore, suffer physical pain and torment in a heightened degree. The
-thought of a spacial gradation corresponding with degrees of merit,
-though first developed in connection with the pains and punishments
-of the underworld, then comes to be applied also to the heavenly
-world. In this case, however, the power of the imagination seems
-scarcely adequate to the task of sufficiently magnifying the degrees of
-blessedness. Hence the imagination is forced; it becomes subservient
-to reflection, which engenders an accumulation of apocalyptic imagery
-that completely defies envisagement. In Jewish literature, one of the
-earliest examples of such apocalyptic accounts of the beyond is to be
-found in the Book of Enoch. The idea of a journey to the underworld,
-developed in ancient history, here apparently suggested a journey to
-heaven; as a result, the celestial realm was divided into various
-regions, graded according to height, as were those of the underworld
-according to depth, and leading to places of greater blessedness, as
-did those of the latter to increasing torment. We here have one of
-those dream-journeys to which dream association readily gives rise in
-the expectant and excited consciousness of the sleeper. Indeed, it is
-not improbable that the narrative is based on actual dream images. Had
-not the appearance of the dead in dreams already led to the belief in a
-shadow-soul, which now journeys to this distant world? The division of
-the celestial realms, in these mythical works, fluctuates between the
-numbers three and seven--the two numbers held sacred _par excellence_.
-In the Second Epistle to the Corinthians, the Apostle Paul tells of a
-dream-vision in which, years before, he was caught up to the 'third
-heaven' of paradise.
-
-Under the influence of expiatory rites, which were zealously
-practised even by the ancient mystery cults, these two worlds, the
-subterranean hell and the celestial paradise, were supplemented by
-a _third_ region. This development was also apparently of Iranian
-origin. The region was held to be a place of purification, where the
-soul of the sinner might be prepared, through transitory punishments
-and primarily through lustrations, for entrance into the heavenly
-realm. Purgatorial lustration, after the pattern of terrestrial cult
-ceremonies, was believed to be effected by means of fire, this being
-regarded as the most potent lustrical agency, and as combining the
-function of punishment with that of purification. Dante's "Divine
-Comedy" presents a faithful portrayal of these conceptions as they were
-finally developed by the religious imagination of mediaeval Christianity
-out of a mass of ideas which go back, in their beginnings, to a very
-ancient past, but which continually grew through immanent psychological
-necessity. Dante's account of the world beyond incorporates a further
-element. It tells of a _guide_, by whom those exceptional individuals
-who are privileged to visit these realms are led, and by whom the
-various souls are assigned to their future dwelling-places. The first
-of the visitors to Hades, Hercules, was accompanied by deities, by
-Athena and Hermes. Later it was one of the departed who served as
-guide. Thus, Virgil was conducted by his father, and Dante, in turn,
-was led by Virgil, though into the realms of blessedness, closed
-to the heathen poet, he was guided by the transfigured spirit of
-Beatrice. The role of general conductor of souls to the realms of
-the underworld, however, came to be given to Hermes, the psychopomp.
-Such is the capacity in which this deity appears in the Odyssey,
-in an exceedingly charming combination of later with very ancient
-soul-conceptions. After Odysseus has slain the suitors, Hermes, with
-staff in hand, leads the way to the underworld, followed by the souls
-of the suitors in the form of twittering birds.
-
-These external changes in the ideas of the beyond, leading to the
-separation of the two realms, heaven and hell, and finally to the
-conception of purgatory, an intermediate realm, are dependent also
-on the gradual development of the _idea of retribution_. This is not
-a primitive idea. It arises only in the course of the heroic age, as
-supplementary to the very ancient experiences associated with the fear
-of death and to the notions concerning the breath and shadow souls.
-Moreover, it is especially important to notice that at the outset
-the idea was not ethical in character, but _purely religious_--a
-striking proof that morality and religion were originally distinct.
-The transference of the idea from religion to morals represents the
-final stage of the development, and occurred long after other-world
-mythology had reached its zenith. The first traces of the retributive
-idea are to be found in connection with those unusual dispensations of
-favour by which a hero who has won the favour of the gods is either
-taken up into their midst or is granted admittance to some other region
-of blessedness; the conception may, however, also take the form of
-punishments attached to certain particular offences directed against
-the gods. These latter exceptions already form a prelude to the more
-general application of the retributive idea in later times. But, even
-at this stage, the idea did not at once include _all_ men within its
-scope, but found expression only in the desire to gain some exceptional
-escape from future suffering or some peculiar claim to eternal joy
-in the future. True, the natural impulse toward association, and the
-hope that united conjurations would force their way to the ears of
-the gods more surely than individual prayers could do, early led to
-cult alliances, whose object it was to minister to these other-worldly
-hopes. None of these alliances, however, was concerned with obtaining
-salvation for all; on the contrary, all of them sought to limit this
-salvation to a few, in the belief that by such limitation their aim
-would be more certain of realization. These cults, therefore, were
-shrouded in secrecy. This had a twofold purpose. On the one hand, it
-increased the assurance of the members in the success of their magical
-incantations--a natural result of the fact that these rites were
-unavailable to the masses; on the other hand, it augmented the magical
-power of the incantations, inasmuch as, according to an associative
-reaction widely prevalent in the field of magical ideas, the mysterious
-potency of magic led to a belief in the magical effect of secrecy.
-The influence of these ideas had manifested itself in much earlier
-times, giving rise, on the transitional stage between totemism and the
-deity cults, to the very numerous secret societies of cultural and
-semi-cultural peoples. At this period, these societies were probably
-always the outgrowth of the associations of medicine-men, but later
-they sometimes included larger circles of tribal members. As is
-evident particularly in the case of the North American Indians, such
-societies frequently constituted restricted religious groups within
-the clans--groups which appear to have taken the place of the earlier
-totemic associations. In harmony with this, and, perhaps, under the
-influence of the age-groups in the men's clubs, there was originally a
-gradation of the members, based on the degree of their sanctification
-and on the extent of their participation in the mystic ceremonies. In
-peculiar contradiction to the secrecy of such associations, membership
-in one of its classes was betrayed, during the festivals of the cult
-groups, by the most striking external signs possible, such as by the
-painting of the body or by other forms of decoration. Moreover, on the
-earlier stages of culture, the interest of all these secret societies
-was still centred mainly on things connected with this world, such as
-prosperity of crops, protection from sickness, and success in the
-chase. Nevertheless, there was also manifest a concern regarding a
-future life, especially wherever a pronounced ancestor worship or an
-incipient deity cult had been developed.
-
-It is the idea of the beyond, however, that gradually crowds out all
-secondary motives and that gives to the mystery cults proper their
-characteristic stamp, bringing them into sharp contrast with the
-dominant ideas of the early heroic age. In the earlier period, the
-idea of the beyond had been enveloped in hopeless gloom; now, it fills
-the mystic with premonitions of eternal happiness. In striving for
-this experience, the mystic wishes for a bliss that is not granted to
-the majority of mortals. Once more all the magic arts of the past are
-called into play in order that the initiate may secure entrance into
-the portals of the yonder world; it is thither that he is transported
-in the ecstasy induced by these magical means. No longer is admiration
-bestowed upon the heroes of the mythical past, upon a Hercules and a
-Theseus, as it was in ancient times. The change came about slowly,
-and yet at the great turning-point of human history, marked by the
-Hellenistic age, it spread throughout the entire cultural world.
-Radiating far beyond the Eleusinian and Orphic mysteries, which
-these hopes of a yonder-world raised to new life, the same idea was
-appropriated by the cults of Osiris, Serapis, Attis, and Mithra. The
-_idea of redemption_, born of the longing to exchange this world, with
-its sufferings and wants, for a world of happiness in the beyond, took
-possession of the age. It is the negation of the heroic age, of the
-heroes which it prized, and of the gods which it revered. Along with
-this world, these cults of the beyond repudiate also the previously
-existent values of this world. The ideals of power and of property
-fade. Succeeding the hero ideal, as its abrogation and at the same time
-its consummation, is the ideal of humanity.
-
-At first it is only _religious_ ideals that manifest this shift in
-values. The enjoyment of the present gives way to hopes for the
-future, the portrayal of which welds religious feelings into a
-power that proves supreme over all other impulses. It is for this
-very reason that the future, which the mystic already enjoys in
-anticipation, comes to be exclusively the reward of the _devout_. It
-is not vouchsafed to the moral man who stands outside the pale of
-these religious associations, for his activity centres about this
-world. At a much earlier period, however, these ideas became combined
-with ethical motives of retribution. If, accordingly, the two motives
-again become entirely distinct at this decisive turning-point of
-religious development, this only signifies that, in themselves, they
-are of different origin, and not that from early times forward there
-were no forces making for their union. These forces, however, were
-not so much internal as external in character. They did not spring
-from the religious experiences themselves, nor, least of all, from
-the ideas of the beyond. Their source is to be found primarily in
-a transference of the relations of the earthly State to the divine
-State, as a result of which the ruler of the latter was exalted to
-the position of lawgiver in the kingdom of men no less than in that
-of the gods. Proofs of this transference are to be found in the most
-ancient customs and legal enactments of all regions. Either the ethical
-and religious commandments are, both alike, supposed to be the very
-utterances of the deity, as in the case of the Mosaic decalogue, or, as
-is illustrated by the Babylonian code of Hammurabi, an earthly ruler
-expressly promulgates his law in the name of the deity, even though
-this law is essentially restricted to legal and ethical norms. Thus it
-came about that every ethical transgression acquired also a religious
-significance. The ethical norm was not, at the outset, religious
-in sanction, as is usually believed; it acquired this character
-only through the medium of the world-ruling divine personality.
-Nevertheless, the union of the ethical and the religious gradually
-caused the idea of retribution, which originally had no ethical
-significance whatsoever, to force its way into the conceptions of the
-beyond. It was essentially in this way that ethical transgressions came
-to be also religious offences, whereas, on the other hand, the rewards
-of the other-world continued to be restricted to the devout, or were
-granted to the moral man only on condition that he be devout as well as
-moral.
-
-In conclusion, we must consider an offshoot of other-world ideas--the
-belief in the _transmigration of souls_. This belief is ultimately
-grounded in the more general ideas of soul-belief, even though its
-developed form appears only as a product of philosophical speculation,
-and has, therefore, found only a limited acceptance. In its motives,
-the belief most closely resembles the conception of purgatory, in so
-far as the latter involves the notion that the occupation of animal
-bodies is a means, partly of transitory punishment, and partly of
-purification. The idea of lustration, however, is not involved in that
-of metempsychosis. In its place, there is a new and unique element.
-It consists in the thought, expressed in Plato's "Republic," that it
-is proper that man should retain after death the character manifested
-during life, and that he should therefore assume the form of the animal
-which exhibits this character. There is thus manifested the idea of
-a relationship between man and the animal. In the distant past this
-idea gave rise to the animal totem; in this last form of the animal
-myth, it leads to the conception of the transmigration of souls. Thus,
-a complete inversion of values has here taken place. The significance
-of the totem as an ancestral animal and as an object of cult caused
-it to be regarded as superior to man. The animal myth, on the other
-hand, represents transformation into an animal as degrading, even as
-a severe punishment. It is precisely this difference which makes it
-probable that the idea of transmigration was not a free creation of
-Hindoo philosophers--for it was they who apparently first developed it,
-and from whom it passed over to the Pythagorean school and thence to
-Plato--but that it, also, was connected with the general development of
-totemic conceptions. Of course, it is not possible to trace a direct
-transition of the totem animal into the animal which receives the soul
-of a human being who is expiating sins that he has committed. It is
-not probable, moreover, that such a transition occurred. Doubtless,
-however, the idea of transmigration is connected with the fact that,
-beginning with the totemic age and extending far down into the period
-of deity beliefs, the value placed on animals underwent a change. For
-the Australian, the animal is an object of cult, and the totem animal
-is frequently also regarded as the incarnation of an ancestor or of
-some magical being of antiquity; the American Indian calls the animals
-his elder brothers; Hercules, the hero of the heroic age, is honoured
-because, among other things, he was instrumental in exterminating wild
-animals. This change, moreover, is reflected in animal myths even more
-than in these general evaluations. Indeed, transformation into animals
-is a dominant characteristic of these myths. Tracing the conception of
-this magical process, however, we find, step by step, a progressive
-degradation of the animal. In Australian legends, animal and man are
-either absolute equals or the animal is the superior, being endowed
-with special magical powers. In American maerchen-myths also, we still
-frequently find the same conception, although transformation into an
-animal is here sometimes regarded as a disgrace. Finally, in many
-African myths, and, particularly, in those of the cultural peoples
-of the ancient world, such a transformation is regarded either as a
-serious injury resulting from evil magic or as a punishment for some
-crime. We may well suppose, therefore, that the Brahmans, who first
-incorporated this idea into the religious conceptions of retribution,
-were influenced by the ideas current in popular belief, which, on their
-part, represented the last development of earlier totem conceptions.
-These ideas may also have been reinforced by the belief (not even yet
-entirely extinct) in soul animals, into which the psyche disappears
-at the moment of death. Whether the Brahmans had as yet come to the
-notion that transformation into an animal is a simpler and more natural
-way of conceiving the future of the soul than ideas of a supermundane
-and a subterranean beyond, need not concern us. In any event, it is
-noteworthy that, after science had closed the path to heaven as well as
-that to Hades, Lessing and, in a broader sense, taking into account
-nature as a whole, Goethe himself, regarded metempsychosis as the most
-probable hypothesis concerning the way in which the desire for an
-endless survival of the soul will be satisfied.
-
-
-
-15. THE ORIGIN OF DEITY CULTS.
-
-
-Psychologically, myth and cult are closely interrelated. The _myth_
-is a species of _idea_. It consists of ideas of an imaginary and an
-essentially supersensuous world that constitutes a background for the
-phenomena of sensuous reality. This supersensuous world is created
-by the imagination exclusively from sensuous materials. It finds
-portrayal throughout the various stages of myth development, first
-in the maerchen-myth, then in the heroic saga, and finally in the
-deity saga. In the latter, there are interwoven ideas of the origin
-and destruction of things, and of the life of the soul after death.
-_Cult_, on the other hand, comprises only _actions_. These relate to
-the demons or the gods whose lives and deeds are depicted by mythology,
-at first only in fragmentary sketches, but later, especially in the
-deity saga, after the pattern of human life. Now, inasmuch as action
-is always the result of feeling and emotion, it is these subjective
-elements of consciousness that are dominant in cult, whereas cognition
-plays its role in connection with myth. This contrast is important
-because of its close bearing on the development of myth as well as
-on that of religion, and on the essential differentiae of the two.
-Not every myth has a religious content. In fact, the majority of the
-myths prevalent, or once prevalent, in the world, have absolutely no
-connection with religion, if we give to the latter any sharply defined
-meaning at all. At the setting of the sun, a flaming hero is swallowed
-by a dusky demon--this conception of nature mythology may possibly be
-incorporated in religious conceptions, but, in itself, it possesses no
-religious significance whatsoever, any more than does the idea that the
-clouds are demons who send rain to the fields, or that a cord wound
-about a tree may magically transfer a sickness to it. These are all
-mythological ideas, yet to call them religious would obviously leave
-one with a most vague conception of religion. Similarly, moreover, not
-every cult relating to things beyond immediate reality is a religious
-cult. Winding a cord about a tree, for example, might constitute
-part of a magic cult which aims at certain beneficent or pernicious
-results through the aid of demons of some sort. There is no ground,
-however, for identifying these cult activities with deity cult. From
-the very beginning, of course, every cult is magical. But there are
-important differences with respect to the objects upon which the
-magic is exercised. The same is true with respect to the significance
-of the cult action within the circle of possible magic actions and
-of the derivatives which gradually displace the latter. In view of
-this, it is undeniable that, in _deity cult_, the cult activity,
-in part, assumes new forms, and, in part, and primarily, gains a
-new content. Prior to the belief in gods, there were numerous demon
-cults, as well, particularly, as single, fragmentary cult practices
-presupposing demoniacal powers. Moreover, these demon cults and the
-various activities to which they gave rise, passed down into the very
-heart of deity cult. The question therefore arises, What marks shall
-determine whether a deity cult is _religious_ in character? These
-marks, of course, may be ascertained only by reference to that which
-the general consensus of opinion unites in calling religious from
-the standpoint of the forms of religious belief prevalent to-day.
-From this point of view, a religious significance may be conceded to
-a deity conception if, in the first place, it possesses by its very
-nature--that is, objectively--an _ideal_ worth, and, since the ideal
-transcends reality, a _supersensuous_ character; in the second place,
-it must satisfy the subjective need of man for an ideal purpose of
-life. To one outside of the particular cult community, the value of
-this ideal may be but slight; to the community, however, at the time
-when it is engaged in the cult practices, the ideal is of highest
-worth. As the embodiments of the ideals just mentioned, the gods are
-always pictured by the mythological imagination in human form, since it
-is only his own characteristics that man can conceive as magnified into
-the highest values in so absolute a sense. Where the deity does not
-reach this stage, or where, at the very least, he does not possess this
-ideal value during the progress of the cult activities, the cult is not
-religious in nature, but prereligious or subreligious. Thus, while myth
-and cult date back to the beginnings of human development, they acquire
-a religious character only at a specific time, which comes earlier in
-the case of cult than in that of the myth. The gods are created by the
-religious emotion which finds expression in cult, and myth gives them
-the character of ideal personalities, after the pattern of the heroic
-figures of actual life. The entire life of man, with all its changes of
-destiny, is placed in their hands. Their cult, therefore, is no longer
-associated merely with special circumstances or various recurrent
-events, as were primitive magic and the conjuration of demons, but
-is concerned with the whole of life, which is now subordinated to a
-divine legal order fashioned after the political government. Thus, the
-god is soon succeeded by the _divine State_, and by the cult festivals
-dedicated to the latter. As an idealized counterpart of the human
-institution peculiarly characteristic of the heroic era, religious cult
-appears, from this point of view also, as the most distinctive creation
-of the age of heroes and gods.
-
-If a conception proves to be too narrow to cover all the phenomena
-which fall within its sphere, it is legitimate, of course, to broaden
-it, to a certain extent, to suit our needs. Nevertheless, once we
-admit that not every mythological conception or magical practice is
-religious in character, we can no longer doubt that there was never
-a more significant change in the development of these phenomena than
-occurred in the case of the myths and cults directly connected with the
-heroic age. Primarily, therefore, it was the cults of the Babylonians,
-Egyptians, Israelites, and also those of the Greeks, Romans, Aryans,
-and Germans, that were religious in the full sense of the word. In the
-Old World, the Semitic and Indo-Germanic peoples must be regarded,
-to say the least, as the most important representatives of religious
-ideals; in the New World, prior to the coming of the Europeans, this
-distinction belongs to the cultural peoples of the Andes, the Mexicans
-and the Peruvians. Though the religion of these latter races, no less
-than the other phases of their culture, was of a cruder sort than that
-of the former peoples, it frequently throws a remarkable light upon
-the initial stages of many forms of cult. Of course, there is never
-a sharp separation of periods; intermediate stages are always to be
-found. The latter result, particularly, from two conditions. On the one
-hand, a deity cult may be inaugurated by the introduction of elements
-of a celestial mythology into the still dominant magical cults. In this
-case, it is important to note, deity myth is usually far in advance
-of deity cult. This is exemplified in Polynesia, where we find a rich
-theogony alongside of cults that have not advanced essentially beyond
-the stage of totemic magic beliefs. On the other hand, however, a
-people whose civilization is still, on the whole, totemic, may be
-influenced by the deity cults of neighbouring cultural peoples, and, as
-a result, fusions of various sorts may occur. Of this, also, the New
-World affords instructive examples, namely, the Pueblo peoples of New
-Mexico and Arizona, who were influenced by Mexican culture.
-
-In the soul-life of the individual, _action_, together with the
-feelings and emotions fundamental to it, have the primacy over
-ideation. The same psychological fact universally accounts for the
-superior importance of deity cult over deity myth. It is action that
-constantly influences ideas, changing and strengthening them, and
-thus arousing new emotions which stimulate to further activities.
-Thus, the elevation of the gods into ideal beings must be ascribed,
-in great part, to religious cult, for it came about as a result of
-the influence which the emotions associated with cult exercised upon
-the ideas of the gods. Even less than the mythological thought from
-which it develops does religious reflection consist simply of ideas.
-The mythical tales and legends into which ideas are woven excite
-primarily the feelings and emotions. These it is that cause the
-exaltation of the religious consciousness, giving rise to action,
-which, in turn, enhances the emotions. If anywhere, therefore, it is in
-the psychology of religion that intellectualism is doomed to failure.
-The intellectualist is unable to explain even the fact of cult, to say
-nothing of those effects upon religion by virtue of which cult becomes
-religion's creative force. While, therefore, there are cults--namely,
-those of magic and demons--which, for specific reasons, we may call
-prereligious, there is no religion without some form of cult, even
-though, in the course of religious development, the external phases of
-cult may diminish in significance. In so far, cult is to be regarded as
-_moulding_, rather than as permanently expressing religious emotions;
-and it is not merely an effect, but also a source of religious ideas.
-It is in cult that deity ideas first attain their full significance. By
-giving expression to his desires in prayer and sacrifice, man enjoys a
-foretaste of their satisfaction, and this, in reaction, enhances not
-only the desires but also the mythological conceptions fundamental to
-them. It is precisely this relationship of myth to cult that extends
-far back into the totemic age and that causes the dominant magic cults
-of this period to be displaced by deity cults as soon as gods have
-arisen through a synthesis of heroes and demons. This accounts for the
-fact that, in the beginnings of religion, the worship of gods always
-contained elements that derived from the age of demons. But even
-the demon cults frequently exhibit one feature, particularly, that
-remains characteristic also of religion: in the cult the individual
-feels himself one with the object of worship. This is clearly shown
-in the case of primitive vegetation festivals. Those who execute the
-orgiastic cult dances regard themselves as one with the spirits of
-vegetation, whom they wish to assist, by their actions, in increasing
-the productive forces of nature. Such vegetation festivals have already
-been described in our account of totemic cults. Inasmuch, however, as
-they represent not only the highest of the totemic cults but even
-partake, in part, of the character of deity cults, it was necessary to
-refer to them again at this point. Vegetation festivals still prevail
-in richly developed forms among some of the tribes of North and Central
-America. It is clear that they represent primarily a transitional
-stage, for, in addition to totemic ideas, demon and ancestor beliefs
-are everywhere mingled with elements of a celestial mythology. Spirits
-of ancestors are thought to be seated behind the clouds, urging the
-rain demons to activity. Above them, however, are celestial deities,
-whose abode is in the heavens, and to whom is attributed the supreme
-control over destiny.
-
-Even these relatively primitive vegetation cults manifest still
-another trait, which later comes more and more to characterize all
-cult, namely, the _union of many cult motives_. The great vegetation
-festivals of Central America attract not only those in health but also
-the sick. The latter are in search of healing. Hence there come to
-be special cults alongside of those that serve more universal needs.
-Moreover, the initiation of youths into manhood is also celebrated
-during these great festivals. Finally, the individual seeks to
-expiate some sin which he has committed in the past. Thus, numerous
-supplementary and subsidiary cults cluster about the great cult
-festivals. This was true even of the cults that reach far back into
-the age of magic and demon beliefs, when gods still played a secondary
-role, and conditions remained the same up to the time of the highest
-forms of deity cult. Furthermore, the incentive, or impelling motive,
-which originally brought cult members together for these comprehensive
-festivals seems everywhere to have been the same. The aim in view
-was to secure the prosperity of the crops, for, on the threshold of
-this higher civilization, these formed man's chief food-supply. The
-prominence of this motive in the earliest deity cults, moreover,
-indicates that the latter were genuine products of the general culture
-of this period. The roving hunter and nomad were giving place to the
-settled tiller of the soil, who utilized the animal for the services of
-man, and thus engaged more systematically in the breeding of domestic
-animals, though also perfecting, in addition to the arts of peace,
-the agencies of war. The motives that gradually elevated vegetation
-cults to a higher plane consisted in every case of those that at the
-outset found expression in the subsidiary cults. The concern for
-the _spiritual welfare_ of mankind finally supplanted materialistic
-purposes. This is clearly shown by the history of the Greek mystery
-cults. These, however, were obviously influenced, particularly at a
-later time, by the similar cults of the Egyptians, as well as by the
-Babylonians and other peoples of western Asia. Among all these peoples,
-the chief cults were vegetation cults, and, as such, they occurred
-at stated seasons. In the Orient, particularly, the festivals were
-held at the solstices. Surviving remnants of seedtime and harvest
-festivals--which were solstice festivals and were prevalent throughout
-the entire Oriental world--allow us to conclude, even with respect
-to many regions in which a complete historical tradition is lacking,
-that agricultural festivals probably represent the earliest deity
-cults. Hence it is that these remnants still contain so many elements
-characteristic of demon beliefs.
-
-It is the contrast of spring, of newly awakened Nature and its
-sprouting and growing crops, with winter and its dying vegetation,
-that first finds expression in the deity myths which inspire the
-vegetation festivals. The more permanent significance of these cults,
-however, is due to the fact that the gods of vegetation gain an
-increasing sphere of influence. The reason for this is obviously to
-be found in the fact that subsidiary motives come to be incorporated
-into the main cults of the earliest cultural peoples. _One_ factor
-is of particular importance. Though inconspicuous in the earliest of
-these cults, it becomes increasingly prominent as the cults become
-more highly developed. I refer to _hopes of a beyond_. Of course, many
-phases of the cult remain hidden to us. Due to the combinations already
-mentioned and to the incorporation, in this case, of magical and
-mystical elements, these cults acquired a secret nature in proportion
-as they concerned themselves with the riddle of the beyond. The more
-carefully the individual cult member guarded the secrets of the group,
-the richer the blessings that he might hope to receive. Nevertheless,
-the general psychological motives underlying this development enable
-us to supplement the historical tradition. In this way it is possible
-to gain a fairly positive knowledge of the process by which, with
-an apparently almost universal uniformity, vegetation cults came to
-combine with soul cults. The ideas of changing seasons, of summer
-and winter, of the budding and the withering of grain, are naturally
-associated with those of life and death. Winter and bleak nature
-resemble death; and, just as lifeless nature is again resuscitated
-in the spring, so also will the soul awaken to a bright and joyous
-existence in the future. The connection is so obvious that poetry and
-even myth itself everywhere refer to it. Hence also it could not have
-been overlooked by the mythologists. Generally, however, this has
-been regarded as an ingenious allegory by means of which man sought
-to gain a vivid realization of the resurrection of the soul. In fact,
-such allegorical reinterpretations occur in later cult legend itself.
-Particularly characteristic of this is the legend of the Eleusinian
-mysteries. Persephone, the daughter of Demeter, goddess of the crops,
-is stolen by Pluto, ruler of the underworld, and the goddess-mother
-wanders about on the earth seeking her child. Resentfully she withdraws
-from the heavens and avoids the assemblages of the gods. During this
-period of mourning, however, she devotes all of her care to mankind.
-She protects not only the vegetation but also the germinating human
-life, the child. Thus she becomes a benefactress upon earth. The gods,
-however, mourn her absence, and Zeus makes a compact with the lord of
-the underworld. Persephone is to remain in the underworld with her
-husband, Pluto, during only one-half of the year; during the other
-half she is to return to her mother. Appeased, Demeter herself returns
-to the heavens. The allegorical significance of this legend cannot
-fail to be recognized, nor the fact that it was probably only as a
-result of a poetical elaboration of the mythological material that
-this allegorical character was acquired. The same is true of all other
-similar cult legends, from the descent into hell of the Babylonian
-Ishtar down to the legends of Dionysos and Osiris, and other vegetation
-legends of the Hellenistic period. In the form in which these have come
-down to us, they are all products of priestly invention, replete with a
-conscious symbolism such as cannot be ascribed to the original mythical
-material upon which they were based. Nevertheless, it is customary not
-only to regard all of this original content as allegorical, but also to
-surpass even the traditional legend itself, if possible, in allegorical
-interpretation. In the legend of Demeter, for example, Demeter is
-supposed to be the mother earth, and Persephone the seed that is
-thrown into the earth to grow up and blossom. Analogously, he who
-participates in the cult hopes that, while his soul, similarly, is at
-first buried in the earth with his body, it will later ascend to heaven
-as did Demeter. Back of the myth, therefore, there is supposed to be a
-symbolical allegory, and to this is attributed the original union of
-the soul cult with the vegetation festival. When, then, the former lost
-its influence, the symbolism it thought to have remained as the chief
-content of the mystery. No original cult, however, shows the least sign
-of connection with such subtle allegories. On the other hand, there
-are many indications that the vegetation cults developed into these
-higher forms of soul cults in an entirely different way. Soul cults
-of a lower order had, of course, long been prevalent. But these were
-absolutely distinct from any vegetation myths that may have existed.
-They pictured souls as demons, against whom it was necessary to be on
-one's guard, or, at a later stage, as beings whom one might conciliate
-and win over as helpful spirits. Now, the cults of Demeter practised in
-Eleusis had as their aim, not only an increased productiveness of the
-soil, but also success in the interests and activities of this world.
-Since they related to happiness in general, it was but natural that, as
-soon as the ideas of a beyond reached a point of development at which
-the yonder-world became the focus of desires and hopes, the cults also
-should necessarily concern themselves with happiness in a life after
-death. Thus, interest in the beyond came to be one of the further cult
-motives that linked themselves to the dominant vegetation cults. The
-latter, however, held the primacy, as is still clearly apparent by
-reference to the vegetation festivals of the semi-cultural peoples of
-America. It is only natural that this should have been the case. When
-agriculture was in its beginnings, the most pressing need of life was
-that of daily bread. For the tiller of the soil, moreover, the changes
-of seasons marked by seedtime and harvest, represent sharply defined
-periods, suitable above all others for the festivals to which tribal
-associates assemble from near and far. The later allegories connected
-with these cults had nothing to do with their transition into soul
-cults, but, as their whole character indicates, were creations of the
-priestly imagination. As a result of the reaction of cult activities
-upon the emotions, however, concern for the future happiness of the
-soul finally came more and more to overshadow the desires connected
-with this world. Thus, the cults of Demeter eventually passed over,
-in all essentials, into cults of the beyond. The same is true of the
-Dionysos cults of the Greeks, of the Egyptian worship of Isis and
-Osiris, of the Persian Mithra cult, and of many other mystery cults
-of Oriental origin. All of these express the same passion for a
-future bliss that shall begin at the close of earthly life and endure
-endlessly.
-
-The character of these cults is shaped, in a decisive measure, by other
-influences, whose source is to be found in the hopes of a beyond. Even
-in the vegetation festivals of the semi-cultural peoples of America,
-with their elements of totemism and ancestor worship, an important
-place is occupied by _ecstatic_ features--by the orgiastic dance, and
-by the ecstasy that results from sexual excitement and from narcotic
-poisons, such as tobacco. Conjurations, prayer, sacrifice, and other
-cult ceremonies aid in stirring the emotions. Doubtless it was due to
-these ecstatic elements that the cult of Dionysos gained supremacy over
-the older cults of Demeter in the Greek mysteries, and that Dionysos
-himself was eventually given a place in the Demeter cult. For is he
-not the god of wine, the most potent of all the means for creating
-a condition of bliss that elevates above all earthly cares? In the
-mystery cults, however, the central feature of the cult activity was
-the vision experienced in the ecstasy. The mysterious equipment of the
-place, the preliminary ascetic practices, the liturgic conjurations
-and sacrifices, the wine, which originally took the place of the
-blood sacrifice, and, among the Hindoos, the soma, which was itself
-deified--all of these served to transport consciousness to another
-world, so that the cult became increasingly concerned with the world
-beyond, and finally devoted itself exclusively to this interest. As a
-result of this change, the hopes centring about the beyond forced their
-way overpoweringly into cult, whereas the cult, in turn, reacted in an
-important measure to enhance these hopes.
-
-Over against the tendency toward unification inherent in vegetation
-cults and in the other-world cults which sprang from them, the
-increasing diversity of needs and interests now introduces influences
-toward a progressive differentiation of cults. Separate deity cults
-come to be fostered by the various social groups and classes, just as
-had occurred in the case of the totem cults of the preceding age, which
-differed according as they were practised by the tribe, the sex, or the
-individual. The desire for protection against dangers and for security
-in undertakings gives rise to guardian gods no less than it did to
-guardian demons. Since, however, this more general desire branches
-out into a considerable number of special desires, advancing culture
-results in a progressive differentiation of cults. The foundation
-of cities and the separation into classes and occupations lead to
-special cults for each of these divisions of society. The personal
-characteristics of the gods and the purposes of the cult come to be
-affected, each by the other. Each specific cult chooses from among the
-members of the pantheon that god who best suits its purpose, and it
-then modifies his character according to its needs. The characteristics
-of the gods thus undergo a change of significance analogous to that of
-the forms of speech and custom. This change, however, is due mainly to
-cult, and to the fact that the human beings who practise the cult have
-need of protection and aid. The influence of saga and poetry is only
-secondary, being, at best, mediated through cult.
-
-In addition to the increasing diversity of human interests, and
-interplaying with it in various ways, are two further factors that
-tend toward the differentiation of cult. In the first place, divine
-personality as such awakens man to the necessity of establishing
-a cult. As a personal being who transcends human stature, the god
-calls for adoration by his very nature, even apart from the special
-motives which are involved in the specific deity cults and which, in
-the further course of development, give to the latter their dominant
-tone. Pure deity cults, thus, are the highest forms of cult, and give
-best expression to ideal needs. Outstanding examples of this are the
-Jahve cult of the Israelites, and the cults of Christ and Buddha. The
-latter, in particular, show the great assimilative power of cults
-that centre about an objective ideal, in contrast with those that are
-subjective in nature, springing entirely from human desires and hopes,
-and especially with that most subjective of all cults, the cult of the
-beyond. Moreover, this idealizing impulse may also create new cults,
-by deifying heroes who were originally conceived as human. Besides the
-ancient hero cults, the most prominent examples of such cults are again
-those of Christ and of Buddha. For there can be no doubt that Christ
-and Buddha alike existed as human beings and that originally they were
-also regarded as such. The fact that their heroic character consists
-entirely in the spiritual qualities of their personalities does not
-preclude them from consideration in this connection. These qualities
-proved all the more effective in bringing about the exaltation of
-the human into the divine. Thus, they enable us to understand how it
-was possible for the cult of the original deities to be crowded into
-the background by that of those who later came to be gods. This is
-emphatically brought out in the Buddha legends, many of which represent
-the ancient Hindoo gods of the Veda as the servants of the divine
-Buddha.
-
-In addition to the fact that divine personalities call forth homage
-by their very nature, the multiplication of cults results also from
-the fusion of the gods of various peoples. This is the most external
-factor, and yet it is by no means the least potent one. It not
-infrequently happens that cults gain their supreme importance only in
-the territory into which they have been transplanted. Dionysos, for
-example, was a god introduced from elsewhere into Greece. Through his
-connection with the mystery cults, however, he later came to surpass
-all other Greek gods in religious significance. The original cults
-of the native Italian deities, with their numerous elements carried
-over from the age of demoniacal and ancestral spirits, were but few
-in number. Through the assimilation of Greek deities, however, and
-later, at the time of the empire, of Oriental gods, differing widely
-in character, Rome acquired a multiplicity of cults to which history
-doubtless affords no parallel. Yet we must not overlook the fact that
-in certain other cases--such, for example, as the Babylonian-Assyrian
-and the Egyptian cults--the fusions may perhaps have become more
-complete at an early period, and thus have precluded the juxtaposition
-of the many separate cults that existed in the Rome of the Empire.
-
-
-
-16. THE FORMS OF CULT PRACTICES.
-
-
-This multiplicity of cults, increasing with the advance of civilization
-both as regards the ends that are desired and the gods who are
-worshipped, is by no means paralleled by the number of _cult agencies_.
-The only possible exception might be in the case of the means which
-the cults of the beyond employed for arousing ecstasy. Even here the
-difference lies not so much in the means themselves as in the extent
-to which they were used. Moreover, the secrecy surrounding these cults
-is itself an external indication of the fact that they differed from
-the cults concerned with the things of this world, for the latter
-generally sought publicity. And yet there was no form of cult in which
-ecstatic features were altogether lacking; such features are inherent,
-to a certain extent, in cult practices as such and, in so far, are
-absolutely universal. Differences in the specific purposes of the cults
-and in the deities to whom the acts were dedicated did indeed cause
-certain variations. These, however, we may here neglect, inasmuch
-as they do not affect the essential nature of cult itself. From
-early times on, there were certain activities that were universally
-characteristic of deity cults, and their fundamental purposes remained
-the same, namely, to gain the favour of the deity and thereby to
-obtain the fulfilment of personal wishes. As regards this motive, the
-_three_ cult agencies--_prayer, sacrifice_, and _sanctification_--are
-absolutely at one. In this order of sequence, moreover, these agencies
-represent a progressive intensification of the religious activity of
-cult.
-
-In the records of ancient civilized peoples we meet with a great number
-of _prayers_, representing all the forms developed by this simplest
-and most common of the means of cult. The most primitive form of
-prayer is _conjuration_. Conjuration passed over from demon cult into
-the beginnings of deity cult, and is intermediate between a means of
-magic and a petition. This also indicates the direction of the further
-development of the prayer. Conjuration is succeeded by the _prayer
-of petition_, whose essential differentia consists in the fact that,
-however earnestly the suppliant may strive for the fulfilment of his
-desires, he nevertheless ultimately commits them to the will of the
-deity. The development of the prayer of petition out of conjuration
-becomes possible only because gods possess a characteristic which
-demons lack--namely, personality. Once this personality attains to its
-ideal sublimity, the exercise of magical power over the deity ceases
-to be possible, or is so only under the presupposition that the will
-of the deity is in itself favourably inclined toward the suppliant.
-The idea underlying conjuration nevertheless continues for a time to
-remain a supplementary factor in the prayer of petition; even where
-no clearly conscious trace of it appears, it survives in the depth of
-emotion that reinforces the petition. That conjuration blends with
-petition is particularly evident in the case of _one_ characteristic,
-whose origin must be traced to magical conjuration. I refer to the
-fact that the _words of the petition_ are _repeated_ in the same or in
-a slightly changed form, and that, at a later stage of development,
-there is a constant recurrence of the same content, even though this
-is variously expressed. This is a derivative characteristic of the
-prayer of petition. Originally, it was thought that repetition brought
-about an intensification of the magical effect, particularly in the
-case of word-magic. We are already familiar with conjurations of
-this sort as elements of totemic cults. With but few changes, they
-recur in the older songs of the Avesta and Veda, as well as in some
-of the Biblical Psalms. In these cases, however, the repetitions are
-somewhat more extensive, for there is a more detailed statement of
-that which is desired. And yet the Biblical Psalms, particularly, are
-an illustration of the fact that, with submission to the will of the
-deity, the petition becomes less urgent in tone. Even when the petition
-is repeated the expression more and more assumes a somewhat altered
-form. It is probably this enhancement through repetition--itself, in
-turn, due to the dynamic character of the emotions of desire--that
-accounts for the so-called 'parallelism of members,' characteristic
-especially of Hebrew poetry. The view, once entertained, that this
-is a sort of substitute for the rhythm arising from emphasis and
-sentence arrangement is doubtless incorrect, for recent investigations
-demonstrate the ingenious rhythm of Hebrew poetry. We would not, of
-course, deny that the repetition of the thought in a changed form
-intensifies the rhythmic expression. The real basis of the repetition,
-however, lies not in this fact but in the motive underlying petition.
-This is clear, above all, from the fact that repetition is most
-pronounced particularly in those psalms and prophetic songs which are
-of the nature of a prayer of petition and of the praises closely
-connected with it. Later, repetition was also employed in other
-forms of religious expression. In the case of the hymn of praise,
-particularly, the tendency to repetition is augmented, by virtue of the
-enthusiastic exaltation of the divine personality whom the hymn extols.
-
-Besides the prayer of petition we find the _prayer of thanksgiving_.
-Petition and thanksgiving are properly correlative, the one expressing
-a wish to the deity and the other acknowledging its fulfilment. Not
-infrequently, therefore, they are combined, particularly in the more
-advanced forms of the prayer cult, into a single prayer of thanksgiving
-and petition. He who prays returns thanks for the blessings which
-he has received and adds a request for further divine aid. This
-combination occurs very frequently in the Psalms, but it is to be
-found also in other hymnodies. The extent to which the request for
-further favours is subordinated to the thanksgiving for past aid, is
-a measure of the humility involved, and represents a fair criterion
-of the maturity of the religious feeling underlying the prayer.
-Nevertheless, it may also be noticed that he who prays always aims
-first to gain the divine favour through his thanksgiving, in the hope
-that the gods may thereby be rendered more disposed to grant his
-request. Typical examples of this are to be found, not only in the
-Biblical Psalms, but also in the ancient Babylonian texts which recent
-discoveries have brought to light. That the prayer of thanksgiving is
-a higher form of prayer than is petition, is shown by the very fact
-that it occurs in deity cult alone. More clearly even than petition
-does thanksgiving presuppose a personal being, capable of appreciating
-the feeling of gratitude. It is at most in the fact that the prayer
-of thanksgiving still seeks to obligate the deity to future favours,
-that demon-conjuration has left its traces upon it. And yet deity cult
-is characterized precisely by the fact that the compulsion of magical
-conjuration has entirely disappeared in favour of the free volition
-of the deity. That prayer is regarded as imposing an obligation upon
-the god no less than upon man, is extremely well brought out in the
-conception that the relation of the two is that of a contract, or of
-a covenant sealed in the cult. This idea, reinforced by the national
-significance of the deity, is fundamental in the Jahve cult of the
-Israelites.
-
-_Praise_, or, as it is called in its poetic forms, the _hymn_, is
-an even more pronounced feature of deity cult than is the prayer of
-thanksgiving. The hymn is not usually classified as a form of prayer
-because, when externally regarded, it may entirely lack the motive of
-petition, and it is from the latter that the prayer has derived its
-name. In view, however, of the continuity of the development of the
-cult forms which find expression in speech, we cannot escape including
-also the song of praise. Indeed, it generally adduces the blessings
-conferred by the god as an evidence of his glory; not infrequently,
-moreover, it concludes with a hope for the future favour of the deity.
-Artistically perfect examples of such prayers are the compositions
-known as the Homeric Hymns, which, of course, belong to a much later
-age than the Homeric epics. They are paeans in praise of Demeter,
-Apollo, Dionysos, and Hermes, in which the laudation of the beneficent
-activity of these deities takes the form of a recital of some incident
-in their lives, followed by a prospective glance at the favour which
-they may be expected to bestow in the future.
-
-In these cases, the song of praise clearly represents a development of
-the prayer of thanksgiving. The final and most mature form of prayer,
-however, the _penitential prayer_, or, as it is usually called, the
-_penitential psalm_, may in a certain sense be called a subform of the
-petitional prayer. In it, either external need or the consciousness
-of personal guilt leads the individual to call upon the gods for
-mercy and for forgiveness of the committed sin. Typical examples are
-again available in the Hebraic and Babylonian psalms. These psalms
-contain, in the first instance, prayers of cult, which were offered
-on the occasion of national disasters and needs, such as crop failure
-or drought, or, as in the case particularly of the Israelites, were
-repeated at stated times in penitence for the sins of the community.
-Such being the motives, the most universal form of prayer, that of
-petition, may here also be discerned in the background. Not only is
-the penitential psalm in and for itself a particular form of petition,
-containing as it does a plea for the forgiveness of committed sins, but
-it is frequently combined with a direct prayer for the favour of the
-deity and for renewed manifestations of grace through a fortunate turn
-of destiny. In spite of this egoistic strain, however, which, just as
-in the case of the song of praise, is seldom absent, the penitential
-prayer is, religiously speaking, the highest form of prayer, and may be
-found only at an advanced stage of deity cult. Above all other forms
-of prayer, its emphasis falls on the inner life; where it comes to
-expression in its purity, it seeks not external goods, but only peace
-of conscience. Moreover, more than anywhere else, we find in it a
-resignation to the will of the deity. This resignation, in turn, draws
-its strength from the belief that human destiny is in the absolute
-control of the gods, everything experienced by the individual or by
-the cult community being interpreted as a divine punishment or reward.
-Thus, the penitential prayer is closely bound up, on the one hand,
-with the idea of a divine providence and, on the other, with ideas of
-retribution. Neither the idea of providence nor that of retribution is
-to be found in early deity cult; both are products of the subsequent
-religious development. Moreover, the issue is not changed by raising
-the question whether the retribution is regarded as occurring here or
-in the beyond. As a matter of fact, the retributive idea is far from
-being implicated with other-world hopes. The conviction that punishment
-will overtake the guilty man even in this world, because of the direct
-connection between present fortune and misfortune and the worship of
-the gods, is itself the immediate source of the idea of a divine power
-ever controlling the destinies of mankind.
-
-In addition to prayer, however, and usually bound up with it, there
-is a second important form of cult practice, namely, _sacrifice_. The
-usual conception of sacrifice is altogether too narrow--just as is
-the case with prayer. Hence the origin and significance of sacrifice
-have been misunderstood. In view of one of its prominent features in
-the more highly developed cults, sacrifice is usually regarded as a
-gift to the deity, and the various meanings that a gift may have are
-then simply held to apply to sacrifice itself. Accordingly, the purpose
-of sacrifice is limited either to disposing the god favourably toward
-the sacrificing individual or community, or to obtaining forgiveness
-for committed sins. In the Priests' Code of the Israelites, this
-second form of sacrifice--the trespass or sin-offering--also served
-the former purpose, thus acquiring the significance of an act of
-reconciliation which at the same time blotted out any transgressions
-of the past. The sin-offering, on the other hand, was concerned with
-purification from a single, definite sin for which the forgiveness of
-the deity had to be obtained. The peace-offering, therefore, was a
-cult that was celebrated in common and on a specific day, whereas the
-sin-offering was brought only on special occasions, when an individual
-or a restricted group felt the burdens of conscience because of a
-committed sin. Corresponding to the different purposes indicated by
-the words 'reconciliation' and 'forgiveness' was the manner in which
-the sacrifice was brought. The peace-offering was taken to definitely
-established centres of cult, primarily to the temple at Jerusalem.
-Those bringing the sacrifice shared its enjoyment with the deity in the
-sacrificial meal, which was an expression of the covenant concluded
-with the deity for the future. The sin-offering was made whenever
-occasion demanded, and the sacrifice was designed for the deity alone.
-After the removal of the portion reserved for the priesthood, the
-remainder was burned--those making the sacrifice could enjoy none
-of it. If we regard both kinds of sacrifice as forms of gift, the
-peace-offering would correspond more closely to an actual gift with
-a certain tinge of bribery, though this conception is rendered less
-crude by the fact that the sacrifice represents also a covenant which
-receives expression in the sacrificial meal. The sin-offering, on the
-other hand, is more of the nature of a penalty, similar to that which a
-judge imposes in satisfaction of a crime.
-
-It must be granted that there is a stage in the development of
-sacrificial cult in which the gift motive is dominant. Nevertheless,
-even here there are concomitant phenomena which clearly indicate
-that the sacrifice cannot originally have had the significance of a
-gift. On the contrary, there has been, in part, a change in meaning
-and, in part, an arbitrary reinterpretation of phenomena. The Jewish
-peace-offering was not a true gift. This is evidenced by the fact
-alone that one of its chief features was the sacrificial feast,
-which involved the idea of the deity's participation in the meal. In
-connection with this idea of communion with the deity, the offering of
-parts of the consumed sacrifice was manifestly only a secondary motive.
-Nor was the renunciation required of the sacrificer in connection with
-the Jewish sin-offering a feature which had anything in common with a
-gift. It was similar rather to punishment. Moreover, all resemblance
-whatsoever to a gift disappears when we call to mind the earliest forms
-of sacrifice, as well as the objects that were offered. One of the
-oldest sacrifices, found even within totemic culture, was that offered
-to the dead. In its broadest sense, this comprehends everything that
-was given over to the deceased, or that was burned with him, in case
-cremation was practised. Such objects originally included some of the
-belongings of the deceased, particularly his weapons and personal
-decorations. After despotic forms of government arose, the death of a
-chief or of a person of influence demanded also the sacrifice of his
-animals, slaves, and wives. We are already familiar with the change of
-motives that here occurred. At first, the aim was to keep the deceased
-from approaching the living; later, it was to equip him with whatever
-might be of service in his future life. The sacrifice then became an
-offering to the demon of the deceased, designed to win his aid for
-the living. Finally, it was devoted to the gods, whose favour was
-sought both for the deceased and for the survivors. A survey of the
-development as a whole shows that the gift motive was at first entirely
-lacking, and that even later it was of relatively little importance.
-The idea of magic was predominant. The aim was to bring the power of
-magic to bear upon the deceased and his demon, and finally upon the
-gods. The demon was to be kept at a distance, just as in the case of
-burial and of the binding of the corpse, and the gods were to be won
-over to a friendly attitude. This appears even more clearly when we
-consider the objects that were sacrificed. In this respect, there was
-an important change, first mediated, probably, by the cult of the dead,
-and thence carried over to sacrifice in general. The sacrificer offered
-such parts of his own body as were held to be the specific vehicles
-of the soul. Homer tells us that Achilles deposited the two locks of
-hair, which he had once promised to his native river god, upon the
-dead body of Patroclus. The use as a sacrifice to the dead of a gift
-dedicated to a god, clearly indicates that the two forms of sacrifice
-possessed an identical significance. The deceased takes with him into
-the underworld part of the person of the sacrificer. Similarly, it
-was believed that the psychical powers of the deity are, on the one
-hand, strengthened through the soul which he receives in sacrifice,
-and are, on the other hand, inclined toward the one who brings the
-offering. In animal sacrifice, the blood was poured out beside the
-sacrificial stone for the enjoyment of the god. Of the inner parts of
-the bloody sacrifice, it was again those that were in ancient times
-regarded as the chief vehicles of the soul, the kidneys with the
-surrounding fat, that were particularly set aside for the god. Closely
-connected with this is the sacrifice which, through self-mutilation,
-the priests and temple servants offered in the case of ecstatic cults
-(pp. 294 f.). In all of these instances the ideas of magic and of gift
-intermingle. The soul-vehicles which are offered are also gifts to the
-deity, intended for his enjoyment. In partaking of them, however, a
-magical influence is released by means of which the will of the deity
-is controlled, or, in the view of a more advanced age, is favourably
-inclined toward the sacrificer. The same idea prevails when public
-sacrifice demands a human being, instead of an animal, as a vicarious
-offering for the sacrificing community. Indeed, human sacrifice also
-has its prototype in the sacrifice to the dead, though the sacrificial
-idea is in this case kept in the background, inasmuch as the dominant
-purpose is to equip the deceased with that which he requires for
-his further life. Human sacrifice proper, therefore, is at most
-connected with faint survivals of this older practice. In contrast
-with the latter custom, the individual sacrificed to the deity serves
-as a _substitute_ for the community. In this form, however, human
-sacrifice does not antedate animal sacrifice, as has been believed,
-but follows upon it. Still later, of course, it was again displaced
-by the latter, as is graphically portrayed in the Biblical legend of
-Abraham and Isaac. The priority of animal sacrifice is attested, first
-of all, by its incomparably wider distribution. Human sacrifice, and
-traditions indicative of it, appear to be altogether restricted to
-the great agricultural festivals and solstice-cults in which the one
-who is sacrificed serves, on the one hand, as a substitute for the
-sacrificing community which offers itself to the deity in his person,
-and, on the other hand, as the representative of the god himself.
-Convincing proof of this is furnished by the traditions regarding the
-seasonal cults of the ancient Mexicans, as these have been reported by
-K. Th. Preusz. Prior to the sacred festival at which an individual was
-offered in sacrifice, he was himself reverenced as a god. The twofold
-significance of the human sacrifice becomes perfectly intelligible in
-the light of the above-mentioned fusion of the ideas of gift and of
-magic. Dedication to the deity and union with him merge so completely
-that they become a single conception. Even the blood poured out upon
-the sacrificial altar was not merely an offering, but, as a vehicle of
-the soul, was supposed to transfer to the deity who received it the
-desires of the offerer. What was true of the blood was quite naturally
-pre-eminently true when the object of sacrifice was the person
-himself. In this case, all the organs were offered, and, therefore,
-the entire soul. This is the most extreme form of the sacrificial idea,
-and occurs only in the sacrificial cult of fairly large political and
-religious communities. As is characteristic of legend, the 'Abraham
-and Isaac' story individualizes the ancient tradition, construing
-the latter as an account of a test of obedience to the god--an
-interpretation very obviously to be regarded as an invention of later
-priestly wisdom. On the other hand, the Roman Saturnalia, the Persian
-festival of Sacaea, and other agricultural cults of the ancient world,
-exhibit traces of the sacrifice of a human being who represents the
-deity himself. Along with these we might probably mention also the
-Babylonian festival of Tammuz and the Jewish feast of Purim. Finally,
-the Christian conception of the sacrificial death of Jesus combines
-the same ideas, though their religious significance is transformed and
-reinforced by the thought of redemption, which has displaced the older
-protective and fortune-bringing magic. The sacrificial community has
-here become the whole of mankind, and the one who by his death brings
-about a reconciliation with the deity is himself the god. For this
-reason dogma insists--with a logic that is perhaps unconscious and
-mystical in nature, yet all the more compelling--on the unity of the
-divine personality with that of the redeemer who died the sacrificial
-death. This fusion of sacrificial conceptions thus gave rise to the
-most impressive and effective story that the human mind ever conceived.
-
-Herewith we reach the culminating point in the development of the
-idea of a gift offered to the deity, and here also the sacrificial
-object attains its highest _worth_. That the sacrificer, however, is
-little concerned with the value of the objects which he brings, is
-obvious from the fact that these are frequently without any objective
-value whatsoever. Such, for example, are the small pictures offered
-in Chinese ancestor cult, and also the miniature representations of
-desired objects which are placed on votive altars--instances in which,
-of the two ideas combined in sacrifice, that of the gift again entirely
-vanishes, leaving as the sole motive the more primitive idea of magic,
-which never completely disappears. Wherever sacrifice is dominated
-by the idea of a gift offered to the deity, the sacrificer, in turn,
-seeks to gain certain ends in return for the value of his gifts. The
-scale of values may be either quantitative or qualitative, or both
-combined. Even in the case of the bloody sacrifice both criteria are,
-as a rule, involved. At the great festivals of Athens and other Greek
-cities, one hundred steers were sacrificed to the gods, the greater
-part of the sacrifice, of course, serving as food for the people. In
-Israel, the rich man sacrificed his bullock, the poor man, his young
-goat. It was the conception of value that caused especially the fruits
-of the field, as well as the products of the cattle industry, milk and
-butter, to become objects of sacrifice. Later, sacrificial offerings
-were also made in terms of jewels and money. These were brought to the
-temple for the decoration of the house of the god and for the support
-of the cult or the relief of the poor. This development was influenced
-by another change, connected with the transition from the earlier
-bloody sacrifice to the bloodless sacrifice. Prior to the influence of
-the sacrificial customs, the bloody sacrifice involved the loss of the
-sacrificial animals. These were either entirely burned and thus given
-to the gods, or their flesh was consumed by the cult members at the
-sacrificial feast, the god receiving only those parts that were prized
-as the vehicles of the soul. Now, bloodless sacrifice belongs to a
-higher stage both of culture and of cult. In general, it presupposes an
-advanced agricultural and cattle industry, as well as the existence of
-more extensive cult-needs whose satisfaction the sacrifice is designed
-to secure. Thus, the two conditions mutually reinforce each other. The
-products of agriculture cannot be directly offered to the deity as
-can the burnt offering, which ascends to heaven in the smoke. On the
-other hand, the cult cannot dispense with certain means, and these are
-obtained by utilizing in its interests the economic foresight which
-has been acquired by the agriculturist and the cattle-raiser in the
-course of their work. In place of the direct products of husbandry,
-the succeeding age more and more substitutes costly jewels and money.
-Thus, the development which began with the burnt offering concludes
-with the money offering. This later offering is no longer made directly
-to the deity, or, at most, this occurs in the accompanying prayer; the
-offerer bestows his gifts upon the temple, the priests, or the poor.
-By so doing he hopes to win the divine favour indirectly, through the
-merit which such gifts possess or through the cult activities which are
-purchased by means of them.
-
-The earliest forms of sacrifice are thus more and more displaced by
-cult agencies which, to a certain extent, themselves approximate to
-purification ceremonies. This transformation, however, cannot suppress
-the original sacrificial purpose, which was solely that of exercising a
-direct magical influence upon the deity. We now meet with phenomena in
-which this purpose asserts itself all the more potently, because of the
-above development--phenomena from which the idea of a gift possessing
-objective value is entirely absent. We refer particularly to votive
-and consecration gifts. These very names, indeed, are evidence of the
-confusion which a one-sided emphasis of the gift-idea has introduced
-into the interpretation of sacrifice. For votive and consecration gifts
-generally consist of artificial objects which are ordinarily devoid of
-any artistic or other value. They are deposited on the altars of the
-gods, or, in the Catholic cult, on those of the saints, either to make
-known a wish, as does the 'gift of consecration,' or, less frequently,
-to render thanks for the fulfilment of a desire, as in the case of the
-'votive offering.' Although these offerings, even in their beginnings,
-are inseparable from a fairly developed deity cult--since they
-presuppose altars upon which they are placed, and, therefore, temples
-consecrated to the gods--it is practically the amulet alone that may
-be said to rival them in extent of distribution. They occur in ancient
-Egypt, as well as in Greece and Rome. They were known also to Germanic
-antiquity, from whence they probably found their way into the Catholic
-cults of Mary and the saints. The consecration gift corresponds to the
-prayer of petition, the votive offering to the prayer of thanksgiving;
-these prayers, accordingly, are spoken when the object is placed upon
-the altar. The gift of consecration is the earlier and more common,
-just as the prayer of petition precedes that of thanksgiving. The
-peculiarity of this cult, however, consists in the fact that the
-object offered as a sacrifice is an artificially fashioned image,
-usually reduced in size, of the object in connection with which aid
-is sought. This obviously gives it a certain relationship with the
-fetish, on the one hand, and with the amulet, on the other. As a matter
-of fact, the so-called 'consecration gifts' are not in the least
-real gifts. The sick man presents a figure of the diseased part of
-his body, fashioned of clay, bronze, or wax, and the peasant who has
-suffered a loss of cattle brings a representation of the animal. In
-themselves, these objects are valueless; nor can they be of service to
-the deity to whom they are brought, as was doubtless believed by the
-sacrificers to be true in the case of the animal that was slaughtered,
-as well as of the blood, and doubtless also of the fruits which were
-offered. The significance of such a gift of consecration lies solely
-in its subjective value, just as does that of the primitive amulet,
-which is likewise an article without any objective worth. To believe,
-however, that this value consists in the fact that the consecration
-gift symbolizes the submissive reverence of the offerer would be to
-read back a later stage of religious thought into an age to which
-such symbols are entirely foreign. Moreover, the purposes of this
-sacrifice make such an interpretation impossible. The vast majority of
-consecration sacrifices have another similarity to amulets, in addition
-to that just mentioned; those who bring them seek healing from disease.
-Hence, in ancient times, such offerings were brought chiefly to the
-temple of Aesculapius. Just as the amulet, in its most common forms,
-is designed as a protection against dreaded sicknesses, so also does
-the consecration gift aim at relief from actual suffering. The amulet,
-however, may be traced far back into the period of demon-cult, and its
-characteristic types, therefore, are patterned on the more prevalent
-expressions of demon-belief, such as cord magic. The consecration
-gift, on the other hand, is associated with deity cult, and takes the
-form of sacrifice. Moreover, it reverts to the most primitive kind of
-sacrifice, to the purely magical offering. The leg of wax offered by
-the lame is simply a means of magic. Since it possesses no objective
-value, it is worthless as a gift, and, as a means of magic, it is
-again of the most primitive sort. The sacrificial object is regarded
-as having a soul, quite in the sense of early animism. Through its
-immanent psychical power it is to exercise magical coercion over the
-soul of the god or the saint. Its potency is precisely the same as that
-which the soul of the sacrificial animal or human being is supposed to
-possess. The only difference is that the external characteristics of
-animistically conceived objects ordinarily force into the background
-the idea that the sacrifice magically becomes identical with the deity
-who receives it, whereas this conception comes out with especial
-clearness when the offering consists of an animal or of a human being.
-This is strikingly shown by the above-mentioned sacrificial festivals,
-in which, prior to being offered as a sacrifice, the individual was
-himself reverenced as the god to whom he was to be offered. True,
-the fact that the human individual, as well as the animal, possesses
-a value for those who bring the sacrifice, also introduces the idea
-of a gift; added to this, moreover, in the case of human sacrifice,
-is the further thought that the sacrifice is a substitution for the
-sacrificial community.
-
-Thus, the idea of a magical effect upon the deity is combined with
-that of a gift designed to gain his favour. This appears also in
-connection with the sacrifice of the _first-fruits of the harvest_ or,
-with what is only a transference from the fruits of the field to the
-animal used in its cultivation, that of the first-born of the cattle.
-From the standpoint of the gift theory, such an offering is regarded
-as a particularly valuable gift. But this greater value is again
-exclusively of a subjective nature. Objectively speaking, the mere
-fact that it is the first of the fruits or the first-born of the cattle
-that is offered, does not give the sacrifice any additional value.
-Very probably the decisive factor is the preference which man gives
-the gods in the enjoyment of the fruits of the field. It certainly
-cannot be denied that this motive is operative, particularly in later
-development. That it was the original notion, however, is improbable.
-Obviously, this offering is closely related to the custom, common
-even to-day, of leaving the last sheaf in the harvest-field. This
-custom, which W. Mannhardt was able to trace from ancient times down to
-rural festivals that are still prevalent, is also of the nature of a
-sacrifice. On such occasions, an egg, a piece of bread, or the picture
-of a human being or of an animal, is sometimes tied to the first or to
-the last sheaf of the harvest and left upon the field. Such acts are
-obviously due to the need of attributing to the garnered grain life and
-a soul, as well as the ability to influence by its soul the vegetation
-demons of the field, and, in later times, the gods who protect the
-cultivated soil. The custom could scarcely have originated except
-for the presence, from the very outset, of the idea of a psychical
-power resident in the sprouting seed. Later, the idea of a gift here
-also forced the magical motive into the background. Indeed, it may
-well be that this caused the sacrificial usages which originally, as
-it appears, marked the end of the harvest, to be put forward to its
-beginning.
-
-It is only ideas of magic, furthermore, that can account for the
-practice of _divination_. Connected with sacrifice are various
-phenomena that are accidental in nature and unforeseeable on the part
-of the sacrificer. These phenomena are such as to be sometimes regarded
-as indications of the acceptance or the rejection of the sacrifice
-on the part of the deity, while at other times they are interpreted
-from a different point of view, as general prophetic signs. In the
-case of the burnt offering, for example, the direct ascent of the
-smoke to the heavens was regarded as a sign that the deity graciously
-accepted the offering. Similarly, the examination of entrails, common
-among Oriental as well as Occidental peoples, originally, doubtless,
-had the purpose of discovering whether the animal possessed a nature
-pleasing to the gods. Later, however, it became one of a large class
-of general prophetic signs (_prodigia_), such as the flight of
-birds, lightning, clouds, and other incalculable phenomena of nature
-by which the future was predicted, particularly in respect to the
-success or failure of enterprises about to be undertaken. Because of
-the general relationship of magic and divination, the sacrificial
-cult borders upon the _oracle_. In the oracle, man wishes to read the
-future; in the sacrifice, he wishes to influence it by his action.
-This of itself implies that sacrifice occupies the higher plane.
-The belief in prophetic signs passed over from demon cult to deity
-worship with relatively little change, except that it became connected
-with particular gods or priesthoods and was therefore more strictly
-regulated. The hopes of a beyond, which were involved in the ecstatic
-practices of the orgiastic cults, opened up a new field to prophecy,
-and supplied divination with additional methods--the dream and the
-vision. Though connected in various ways with sacrificial cult, these
-phenomena are far from containing the wealth of religious motives
-involved in the former. Nor do they develop any common cult. This is
-due particularly to the fact that ecstatic visions are dependent upon a
-certain psychological predisposition, a fact which also enables us to
-understand the influence exercised by the individual seer and prophet
-upon religion and cult.
-
-A third, and the highest, form of cult practice consists in
-_sanctification ceremonies_. Just as sacrifice is bound up with
-the various forms of prayer--conjuration, petition, thanksgiving,
-and penitence--so, in turn, is the sanctification ceremony closely
-connected with both sacrifice and prayer. On the one hand, it is
-reinforced by accompanying prayers; on the other, it results directly
-from sacrifice, particularly whenever the latter takes the form of a
-cult practice that brings mankind into association with the deity.
-In this event, the ceremony of sanctification represents an activity
-supplementary to sacrifice. The impulse to sanctification gains the
-dominance over the sacrificial idea as soon as the desires relating to
-the personal worth of the sacrificer himself gain ascendancy over the
-external motives which at first prevailed. This subjective interest,
-of course, appears only after the religious life has become relatively
-mature; at the outset, moreover, it is still everywhere combined with
-sacrificial practices that centre about external possessions. Once it
-has finally freed itself, and has become purely a sacrifice designed to
-enhance personal worth, it becomes a _means of sanctification_. When
-sacrifice has reached this highest stage, however, the idea of a gift
-presented to the deity by the sacrificer completely disappears--in so
-far, there is a resemblance to the very earliest sacrifices, which were
-of a purely magical nature and were in no sense intended as gifts. If,
-therefore, the sacrifice of self-sanctification retains any connection
-at all with the conception of a gift, the sacrificer must not only
-be said to offer himself to the deity but the deity must likewise be
-regarded as giving himself to the sacrificer.
-
-Nevertheless, the origins of sanctification ceremonies and of sacrifice
-are essentially diverse. At the outset, moreover, these cult practices
-adopt different paths, meeting only at the height of their development.
-True, the sanctification ceremony is rooted in magic belief, just as
-is sacrifice. In primitive sacrifice, however, the magic is directed
-externally; in the case of sanctification, on the other hand, the
-object of the magic is the human being himself who performs the cult
-action or who permits it to be performed upon him. Even in the earliest
-stages of these practices, therefore, the sanctification ceremony
-occupies the higher level; hence, also, this ceremony is subsequent in
-origin to sacrifice. And yet practices presaging sanctification may be
-found in much more primitive cults, in the _purification ceremonies_,
-whose beginnings may be traced far back into the totemic age. We have
-already mentioned the fact that water and fire were used as means of
-magical purification even in the period of demon-belief (pp. 201 ff).
-So long as they retain this significance, they may both be classed
-as agencies of counter-magic. Their function is to counteract the
-evil spells that result from contact with a corpse or with some other
-object that is regarded as taboo. Purification by fire has the same
-significance. Because of the more elaborate preparations which it
-requires, however, such purification tends, from the very beginning,
-to take the form of a public cult celebration. As a result, it passes
-over directly from the field of counter-magic into that of magic
-proper--a reversal common in the field of magical usage. At this point,
-purification becomes sanctification. For, the original purpose of the
-means which the latter employs is always that of affording protection
-against _future_ attacks on the part of the demoniacal powers that
-threaten man from without, or, in a later and a religiously purified
-interpretation, against personal transgressions resulting from man's
-inner nature. Herewith the development reaches the stage of the
-sanctification ceremony proper. The belief that sanctification is
-necessary for the individual can arise only in connection with deity
-beliefs, for it is bound up with ideas of retribution. The latter, in
-turn, depend upon the feeling of the personal guilt of the individual
-no less than upon the belief in the existence of personal gods who
-avenge the sins that are committed. Precisely the same change that
-takes place in the development of purification by fire transpires also
-in the case of water, the second and more common means of lustration.
-Here this transition is most clearly evident in connection with
-_baptism_. True, even Christian baptism still partly retains the
-idea of lustration. For, though the newborn child who is baptized is
-not himself conscious of any wrongdoing, he is nevertheless tainted,
-according to the doctrine of inherited guilt, by the original sin from
-which he must be cleansed. Baptism thus incorporates the meaning both
-of purification and of sanctification. The latter conception, however,
-asserts its dominance. And yet the Anabaptists, though insisting that
-man is unworthy of the sacred act unless he submits to it of his
-own free will, have also wished to preserve, along with the idea of
-sanctification, the idea of purification, which is both more original
-and, for sense perception, more real. Moreover, baptism also occurs
-with this twofold meaning outside the pale of Christianity, not only
-among the Hebrews, to whom the Christian religion is indebted for
-the cult, but even elsewhere, particularly among Semitic and African
-peoples. Sometimes it occurs alongside of another very common custom,
-that of _circumcision_; sometimes, as in Christendom, it is found
-where the latter is lacking; in still other regions, circumcision is
-practised, whereas there is no real baptism aside from the ordinary
-rites of lustration. This diversity itself testifies to the essential
-difference between the two cult practices--for that circumcision also
-must be classed as such there cannot be any doubt. Circumcision,
-however, is not a means either of purification or of sanctification,
-but is of the nature of a _sacrifice_. Along with the offering of hair
-in the cult of the dead and with the pouring out of blood in connection
-with deity worship, it belongs to that form of sacrifice in which
-the sacrificial object gains its unique value by virtue of its being
-the vehicle of the soul. Thus, the object of sacrifice, in the case
-of circumcision, may perhaps be interpreted as a substitute for such
-internal organs as the kidneys or testicles, which are particularly
-prized as vehicles of the soul but which can either not be offered at
-all, on the part of the living, or whose sacrifice involves serious
-difficulties.
-
-Originally, sanctification and lustration not only employed the same
-means but also followed identical methods. The need frequently came to
-be felt, however, of an external distinction between these two cult
-practices. Ablution thus came to be regarded as the proper method of
-actual purification, whereas _sprinkling_ was adopted in connection
-with sanctification. This also indicates the antithetical positions
-which the two hold with respect to magic and counter-magic. Lustration
-aims to remove moral, or, in the last analysis, demoniacal impurity;
-sanctification furnishes him who seeks its blessings with water
-possessed of magical powers. For this reason purification water fell
-into disuse with the disappearance of belief in demoniacal impurity.
-On the other hand, it was believed that sanctification water must
-remain as available as possible to him who stands in need of its
-virtues. Just as baptism is a cult agency whose purpose is intermediate
-between purification and sanctification, so also does the priest
-who conducts it lay emphasis, now on the one, and now on the other
-of these phases. When sprinkling comes to be employed as a means of
-sanctification, the magical significance of the act leads to a further
-change. Ordinary water, such as is generally used in lustration,
-no longer suffices--the water itself needs sanctification if it is
-to serve the purpose for which it is designed. Even in the ancient
-mystery cults, therefore, one of the chief elements in the ceremonies
-of sanctification consisted in sprinkling the members with water from
-sacred springs. The Jordan festival of the Greek Catholic Church still
-employs water from the river after which it is named, or ordinary water
-that has magically been converted into Jordan water. The relation of
-the burning of incense to lustration by fire is the same as that of
-sprinkling to lustration by water. And yet, in the case of incense,
-the idea of sanctification has almost entirely suppressed the earlier
-aim of purification. The purpose of sanctification finds its specific
-expression in the belief that the smoke cannot have a sanctifying
-effect without the addition of certain other elements. Balsamic
-substances were therefore used. First and foremost among these, even
-in ancient times, was incense resin, whose exciting and narcotic odour
-enhances the magical effect. The herbs and resins that were thrown
-into the flames, however, were also generally regarded as sacrificial
-gifts to the gods, whose delight in the ascending odours would, it was
-thought, render them favourably disposed toward the offerer.
-
-Thus, sanctification ceremony and sacrifice become merged. The highest
-form of sanctification, moreover, originates in sacrifice itself. It
-appears as soon as the idea of intercourse with the deity becomes
-elevated to that of communion with him. This occurs especially in
-the _sacrificial feast_. When the sacrificial food is sanctified by
-virtue of the fact that the deity partakes of it, this sanctification
-is imparted to those human individuals who receive a share of the
-sacrifice. In proportion as the worth of the sacrifice increases,
-so does also the degree of sanctification. The latter reaches its
-culmination in _human sacrifice_, where the person sacrificed is the
-representative both of the sacrificial community and of the deity
-himself. Sanctification here becomes deification for every participant
-in the sacrifice. Following the disappearance of human sacrifice,
-this idea was maintained in connection with the sacred animal that
-was substituted for man, and finally, after bloody sacrifice was
-entirely abandoned, in connection with the bread which constituted
-the sacrificial food. In the most diverse cults of the Old and of
-the New World, this bread was moulded into the form, sometimes of
-a human being and sometimes of an animal. In this case again, the
-sacrificial cult of Christianity unites the various elements. When
-taken as a whole, the different interpretations that have been given
-to sacrifice in the Christian world include conceptions representing
-all the various stages of development. The bread and wine of the
-sacrament perpetuate the memory of the most exalted human sacrifice
-known to religious tradition, since, in this case, the idea of the
-unity of the sacrificial person with the deity continues to survive in
-the cult of the redeeming deity. In this sacrificial meal, moreover,
-elements of related sacrificial cults survive--the idea of the paschal
-lamb, borrowed from the Jewish Passover, and the substitution of wine,
-as in the Dionysian mysteries, for the blood of the sacrificed god.
-To the Christian, moreover, this sacrificial sanctification has had
-_three_ distinct meanings, though these, of course, have frequently
-been intermingled. There have been magical, mystical, and symbolical
-interpretations--a series of stages through which all sanctification
-ceremonies pass. To the uncritical mind, he who receives the bread of
-the sacrament partakes of the actual body of Christ. Following upon
-this stage of miracle and magic, is the idea that the cult act effects
-a mystical union with the Redeemer, a union that is not corporeal
-but spiritual. At the third stage, the cult action finally becomes
-the symbol of a religious exaltation of spirit. This exaltation is
-regarded as possible in itself without the external manifestation;
-nevertheless, it is reinforced by the latter, in accordance with the
-general relationship that obtains between inner needs and external
-actions. Moreover, in each of these three cases, participation
-in the common sacrificial meal is evidence of membership in the
-religious society--a feature common to all firmly organized religious
-associations. Such membership must be attested by participation in the
-cult celebrations. Of the ceremonies in which expression is given to
-one's religious affiliations, the sacrificial meal has been regarded,
-from early times on, as the most important. The end of the development
-thus returns to its beginning. The meal, enjoyed in common at fixed
-times, differentiates cultural man from the man of nature. Among all
-meals in which a relatively large community unites, however, the
-sacrificial feast is probably the earliest, just as the cult festival
-is the earliest festival celebration.
-
-
-
-17. THE ART OF THE HEROIC AGE.
-
-
-A survey of the various phases of human interest will show that they
-are all present from the very beginning in the mental organization
-of man. Moreover, they are throughout so interconnected that an
-advance in one field of interest will lead to progress in general.
-Nevertheless, we are unable to escape the further observation that,
-in the life of the individual, certain capacities develop earlier
-than others. Precisely the same is true of the life of humanity. The
-phenomena in which the character of ages and peoples receives its chief
-expression differ in each of the periods through which the development
-of mankind passes. The secondary phenomena, in each case, either occur
-only in their beginnings or, where we are dealing with later stages
-of culture, are being perfected along lines already established. In
-this relative sense, we may doubtless say of the three eras following
-that of primitive man, that totemism is the age of the _satisfaction
-of wants_, the heroic age, that of _art_, and the succeeding period
-of the development to humanity, that of _science_. Of course, there
-were many art productions, some of them admirable, even in the totemic
-age--we need mention only the artistic cult dances, or the high
-perfection to which the semi-cultural peoples of the period attained
-in the decoration of the body and of weapons. It must be admitted
-also that the heroic age already laid imperishable foundations for
-science. Nevertheless, the main achievements of the totemic age relate
-exclusively to the satisfaction of the external needs of life. The
-modes of procuring and preparing food, and the forms of clothing,
-adornment, implements, and weapons--all originated in the totemic
-age, and, however great may have been the advances made by succeeding
-eras along these several lines, the beginnings had nevertheless been
-made. A manner of dress suitable to the climate had been developed.
-The preparation of food by means of fire, the manufacture of the
-fundamental and permanent implements and weapons--the hammer, the axe,
-the saw, the chisel, the knife--and, finally, the differentiation
-between weapons of close and of long range, had all been introduced.
-Moreover--and this is perhaps most significant of all--art itself was
-governed absolutely by the motive of satisfying needs. Articles of
-adornment, tattooing, the dance, song, and music, were first of all
-means of magic, and as such they served the most urgent needs, such
-as man by himself was unable to satisfy. These needs were protection
-against sickness and success in the chase and in war. Only gradually,
-through a most remarkable heterogeny of ends, were many of these
-agencies of magic transformed into _pure means of adornment_. Such
-transformations, of course, occurred also in the heroic age. But by
-this time the necessities of life had in part changed and, of the new
-interests, those connected with cult and with political organization
-gained an increasing importance. Aesthetic value came to be more and
-more appreciated as an independent feature of objects. As a result,
-articles were produced of a nature such as to minister both to the
-needs of life and to aesthetic enjoyment. But, again, this occurs
-pre-eminently within the field of spiritual needs, particularly in
-connection with deity cult, on the one hand, and in the glorification
-of human heroes, on the other. The construction of the temple, the
-plastic reproduction of the human form and its idealization into
-the divine image, and, finally, the forms of literature--the epic,
-the hymn, and the beginnings of the religious drama, with their
-accompanying music--all of these spring from the spiritual needs of
-this age, among which needs cult is the foremost. With these various
-activities, art begins an independent development, gaining a value
-of its own, and conquering fields that had previously been untouched
-by aesthetic influences. This conquest of new fields by the higher
-forms of art is indicative also of an increasing appreciation of the
-aesthetic, and, along with this, of a spiritualization of life as a
-whole, such as results, in a particular measure, from art, and only
-partly, and at a much later period, from science. The first subjects
-of this art are heroes and gods--that is, those figures which the
-imagination creates at the threshold of the heroic age, under the
-influence of the new conditions of life. Gradually art then concerns
-itself with the human personality and with the objects of man's
-environment. In correspondence with a change which transpired in the
-totemic age, in which means of magic were transformed into articles
-of adornment, the objects of nature and culture are now more and
-more stripped of their mythological significance and elevated into
-pure objects of aesthetic appreciation. Thus, the heroic age includes
-the two most important epochs in the entire history of art. These
-are the origin of a true religious art, and the attainment of an
-aesthetic independence which allows art to extend its influence to all
-departments of human life. Religious art made its appearance with the
-beginning of the heroic age; aesthetic independence represents a later
-achievement. This explains why the totemic age seems to us a vanished
-world, no less with regard to its art than in other respects. It can
-arouse our aesthetic interest only if we attribute the final product
-of this period--namely, decoration freed from its original magical
-significance--to the motives that really underlie artistic activity.
-The art with which we are still familiar and whose motives we can all
-still appreciate, begins only with the heroic age. The tattooing of
-the man of nature and the amulet about his neck are to us adornments
-of low aesthetic value. A Greek temple, however, may even to-day
-arouse the mood of worship, and the battles of the Homeric heroes and
-the tragedy of a Prometheus overtaken by the wrath of the gods may
-still impress us as real. However remote the age may be which these
-products of art represent, the general spirit which animated it has not
-vanished. The greatest turning-point in the spiritual history of man
-consists in the stupendous achievement which inaugurates the heroic
-age. I refer to the creation of the ideal man, the hero, and of the
-god in whom heroic characteristics are magnified into the superhuman
-and demoniacal. Here lies the beginning of a real history of art;
-everything earlier is prehistoric, however important it may be for
-a psychological understanding of art--an importance greater than is
-generally supposed, since it is only these earliest phenomena that can
-disclose the conditions underlying the first manifestations of the
-artistic imagination. Since we may assume that the facts of the history
-of art are generally familiar, it may here suffice to consider these
-originating factors and their relation to the general character of the
-heroic age.
-
-The first and most striking characteristic of the new era is the
-development of _architecture_. This is a new art, not to be found in
-the preceding age, or at most only in very meagre beginnings. The
-gabled and the conical hut, as well as the tent and the wind-break from
-which they developed, are not artistic creations, but are products of
-the most urgent needs of life. The impulse to erect a building for
-any higher purpose than this, manifested itself first of all when,
-here and there, the need of the living was attributed also to the
-dead. For the shelter of the dead, soul and ancestor cults demanded
-the erection of more permanent structures. Hence there appeared the
-burial chamber, built of solid stone. Its walls, designed to afford
-protection from without, were likewise constructed of stone, and
-constantly became more massive. This stimulated a sense of the sublime
-and eternal, which reacted on the construction of the monuments and
-gave them a character far transcending the need that called them into
-being. The development of the gigantic Egyptian pyramids out of the
-simple walled tomb, the mastaba, tells us this significant story in
-pictures that impress the imagination more vividly than words. But the
-cult of the dead, which this history records, was itself intimately
-connected with deity cult. The preservation of the mummy involved
-every possible protection of the corpse from the destructive agencies
-of time. This fact reveals a concern relating to incalculable ages,
-and thus gives evidence of an idea of a beyond into which the deceased
-is supposed to enter. Besides the house of the dead, therefore, there
-is the house belonging to the deity, and this is even more directly
-and universally characteristic of the age. This edifice, into which
-man may enter and come into the presence of the deity, stimulates the
-incomparably deeper impulse to build a structure worthy of the deity
-for whom it is erected. Thus, then, we have the _temple_, designed
-at the outset for the protection of the sacrificial altar, which had
-originally been erected in the open, upon consecrated ground. Since it
-is located at the seat of government, at the place where the citizens
-assemble for the conduct of political affairs and for purposes of
-trade, the temple is indicative also of the city and of the State.
-Secular interests likewise begin to assert themselves. Hence there
-appears a second mark of the city, the _castle_, which is the seat of
-the ruler and of the governing power, and is generally also the final
-defence, when hostile attacks threaten the city and State. Closely
-connected with the castle, in all regions in which the ruler lays
-claim to being a terrestrial deity--as he did, for example, in the
-ancient realms of the Orient--is the _royal palace_. In harmony with
-the twofold position of the ruler, his dwelling is architecturally
-intermediate between the castle and the temple. Thus, it is the temple,
-the castle, and the palace, whose development not only awakens the
-aesthetic sense for architectural forms, but also gives impetus to the
-other arts, especially to sculpture and to ornamentation. The latter
-had previously found material for its expression in the utensils of
-daily use. Enriched through its connection with architectural forms,
-it now recurs to the miniature work of utensils and implements, where
-it more and more serves a purely aesthetic need. Of the works of
-architecture belonging to the early part of this period, it is the
-temple which proves the greatest aesthetic stimulus. This is due not
-only to its more exalted purpose, but also to the impetus derived from
-the fact of the multiplicity of gods. The castle represents the unity
-of the State. Hence the State contains but one such structure, erected,
-whenever possible, upon a hill overlooking the city. The temple,
-from early times on, is the exclusive possession of a single deity.
-The idea of harbouring several deities in a single structure could
-arise only later, as a result of special cult conditions and of the
-increasing size of the sacred edifices. Even then, however, the need
-for unity in the cult generally caused each temple to be dedicated to
-a specific deity, the chief god of the temple. Hand in hand with this
-went a striving for richness and diversity in architecture. The temple,
-therefore, expresses in a pre-eminent degree not only the character of
-the religious cult, but also the mental individuality of the people to
-whom the gods and their cult owe their origin.
-
-Closely connected with temple construction is _sculpture_, for, in it,
-the importance which the human personality receives in this age finds
-its most direct expression. Sculpture, moreover, clearly exhibits
-the gradual advance from the generic to the individual, from a value
-originally placed on man as such to absorption in the particular
-characteristics of the individual. The early, 'generic' figure is
-generally a representation of the divine personality who has inspired
-the artist to create an image for the sacred shrine. Art does not aim
-at the outset to copy man himself; it transfers his characteristics to
-the deity, and only thus, and after laborious efforts, does it attain
-its mastery over the human form. True, the gods are conceived as
-human from the very beginning. So long, however, as the sacrificial
-stone and the altar stand in the open field, this humanization leads
-but to inartistic images, similar to fetishes. While these images
-indicate the presence of the gods at the sacred places, they are not
-intended as likenesses of the deities themselves. In their external
-appearance, therefore, the fetishes of early deity cult still impress
-one as survivals of the totemic age, even though the gods are no
-longer represented after the fashion of demons, namely, as subhuman,
-possessing animal or grotesque human forms. The conditions obtaining in
-life generally were repeated in the realm of art. For the transference
-of purely human characteristics to the image took place in the case
-of the hero--or, what amounts to the same thing in the great Oriental
-civilizations of antiquity, in that of the ruler--earlier than in
-the case of the deity. The ruler is glorified by means of drawings
-which represent processions of the hunt and of war, and which are
-executed on the walls of his palaces. Similarly, the religious impulse
-expresses itself in the erection of an anthropomorphic image of the
-deity. This image is placed either in the temple, which is regarded
-as the dwelling-place of the deity, or in some commanding part of the
-city which reverences the god as its protector. Here, however, we come
-upon a noteworthy proof of the fusion of the hero with the demon as
-described above. From Babylonian and Egyptian monuments we learn that
-the ruler and his retinue were already represented in human form at a
-period when deity cult still retained hybrid forms of men and animals,
-sometimes of the nature of animal demons with human faces, or again
-as human figures with animal heads. Thus, art strikingly confirms
-the view that the gods arose from a fusion of the hero personality
-with the demon. When these external characteristics, due to the past
-history of gods and their connection with demon beliefs, came to be
-superseded, the divine image at first reproduced only the typical
-features of man. In addition to overtowering size, external marks,
-such as dress, weapons, and sacred animals, were the only evidences
-of deity. The first step in the transition from the generic figure
-to the gradual individualization of personality occurs in connection
-with the facial expression. It is surprising to note the uniformity
-with which, in all the civilizations of the Old World, the images
-of the gods, as well as those of the heroes and rulers, acquire an
-expression of kindliness and gentleness. This trait, however, is
-again of a generic nature. The stiff, expressionless form has indeed
-disappeared, but the expression that supervenes is uniform. Though we
-have referred to this transition as universal, this is true at most
-as regards the fact that, on the one hand, the expression of complete
-indifference gives way to one manifesting emotion, and that, on the
-other, this emotion, though pronounced, again exhibits uniformity.
-In the quality of this feeling, differences in the character of
-peoples may come to light, just as they do in myth and religion, with
-which sculpture in its first stages is closely connected. In the two
-great cultural regions of the New World, Mexico and Peru, there is a
-similar transition. The cults of these peoples, however, emphasize
-the fear-inspiring character of the gods. Hence, in their art, the
-terrifying grimace of the earliest divine images becomes moderated
-into an expression of gloomy, melancholy seriousness--a change such as
-the art of the Old World approximates only in occasional productions
-that fall rather within the province of the demoniacal, such as the
-image of the Egyptian sphinx or the gorgon's head of the Greeks. Thus,
-the transition from features that are entirely expressionless to such
-as are generic, and then to those that characterize the individual
-personality, occurs in connection with a change in the quality of the
-emotions. To illustrate the relative uniformity of this development
-we might likewise refer to the early Renaissance. Here again it was
-necessary to seek a path to the concrete wealth of personality that
-had been lost. Art reached this goal by way of the pathetic expression
-of humble submission. As soon as plastic art departs from the typical
-form, we find not only that a change occurs in the expressions of the
-face, but also that the entire body becomes more lifelike. Along with
-this, the themes of plastic art pass from the gods, rulers, and heroes
-to the lower levels of everyday life. Even here art at first continues
-to be fascinated by the great and conspicuous, though it later gains
-more and more interest in the _significant_. This striving for reality
-in its wealth of individual phenomena is characteristic not only of
-sculpture, however, but also of painting. Disregarding the bodily
-form in favour of the portrait, painting first acquires new means of
-characterization in colour and shading; then, passing from man to his
-natural environment, it wins from nature the secrets of perspective,
-and thus gains a far greater mastery over the depths of space than was
-possible to sculpture. _Landscape painting_, moreover, unlocks for art
-that rich world of emotions and moods which man may create from the
-impressions of nature, and which attain to purity of expression in
-proportion as man himself disappears from the artistic reproduction of
-his environment. Thus, the final product of pictorial art, together
-with such paintings as those of still life and the interior, all of
-which are psychologically related inasmuch as they express moods,
-represent the most subjective stage of art, for they dispense with the
-subject himself whose emotions they portray. All the more, therefore,
-are these emotions read into nature, whose processes and activities now
-constitute the content of personal experience. Once it attains to this
-development, however, landscape art is already far beyond the borders
-of the heroic age. Indeed, the Renaissance itself advanced no farther
-than to the threshold of this most subjective form of pictorial art.
-This art represents the hero--however broad a conception of him we may
-form--as in all respects a human individual. Thus, art again returns to
-the being whose ideal enhancement originally gave rise to the hero.
-
-The changes which the forms of aesthetic expression undergo within the
-field of formative art, are paralleled, on the whole, by those of the
-_musical_ arts. By this term, as above remarked, we wish to designate
-all those arts which depend from the outset upon the _external_
-factors of tone and rhythm ultimately employed most freely in music
-(cf. p. 262). In the preceding age, only _one_ of these arts, the
-_dance_, really reached any considerable development. Of the two
-elements of the musical arts, rhythm was as yet predominant. The dance
-received but little melodic support from the voice; noise instruments
-had the ascendancy over musical instruments. The further development
-of these arts leads to continued progress, particularly with respect
-to the melodic forms of expression. These begin with the language of
-speech, and gradually pass on to the pure clang formations produced
-solely by manufactured instruments. Corresponding with this external
-change is an inner change of motives, influenced, of course, by the
-varying materials which enter into the creations of the musical arts.
-From the very beginning, the character of this material is involved in
-constant change, as is also language, which is the basis of all these
-arts, and whose rhythmical-melodic forms cannot be arrested at any
-moment of its living development. The attempt to render permanent some
-of the movements of this flowing process, by means of literary records
-or definite symbols, is but an inadequate substitute for the enduring
-power with which the mute creations of sculpture and of architecture
-withstand the destructive influences of time. Just because of this
-plasticity of their working material, however, the musical arts are
-enabled all the more faithfully to portray the thoughts and feelings
-that move the artist and his age. Particularly where these thoughts and
-feelings are directly reproduced in language, the work, even though
-coming down from a long-departed past, has an incomparably greater
-power to transport us to its world than is ever possible to plastic
-art. How much more vividly do we not experience the life of the Homeric
-heroes while reading the Iliad than when viewing the Mycenian art of
-that period!
-
-Of all the products of the verbal arts, it is the epic that most
-faithfully mirrors the character of the heroic age as a whole. The
-human hero here stands in the forefront of action. His battles and
-fortunes and a laudatory description of his qualities constitute the
-main themes of the poem. In the background, appears the world of gods.
-It receives no attention apart from its relation to the action. The
-gods, it is true, take a hand in the destinies of the heroes--they
-quarrel about them, or, when the need is greatest, descend to the earth
-and, though unrecognized, assist them in battles. As for the rest,
-however, their life lies outside the sphere of the epic narrative;
-it appears to be an even and undisturbed course of existence into
-which change enters only in so far as there is a participation in the
-affairs of the terrestrial world. Such is the epic at the zenith of
-its development and as it receives expression in the Homeric poems.
-Though such poetry be traced back to its beginnings, the gods will not
-be found to play any greater role, as we should be led to expect were
-the theory of many mythologists true that the hero saga developed out
-of the deity saga and, correspondingly, the heroic epic out of the
-deity epic. In confirmation of our assertion, we might point to the
-Russian and Servian romances, and also to the songs of the Kara-Kirghiz
-and to the Finnish Kalewala, though the Kalewala has not come down
-to us in quite its original form. The Norse Edda, which has been at
-the basis of certain misconceptions regarding this question, should
-not here be drawn into consideration, though, were it examined, it
-would substantiate, if anything, the opposite of what is supposed. It
-dates from a later period, which no longer believed, as we may assume
-that the Homeric rhapsodists did, in the gods and heroes of which it
-sang. The Norse skalds dealt, in their songs, with a departed world,
-whose memory they endeavoured to renew; they drew their material from
-maerchen-myths and from folk-sagas. If, now, we turn to that poetry
-of the Slavic and Turkish tribes which is really preparatory to epic
-poetry, we find certain radical differences. Here also, of course,
-there are imaginary beings who either take a hand in the battles and
-destinies of the heroes or, through the magic over which the human hero
-as yet still frequently disposes, come to identify themselves with
-heroes. These beings, however, are not gods, but demons. They possess
-no personal traits whatsoever. Such traits are lacking also to the
-hero in proportion as he makes use of magical powers rather than of an
-enhanced measure of human ability. Thus, it is the _world of demons_,
-not that of gods, which forms the background of the early epic. As
-regards the hero himself, it is apparent from his characteristics that
-he is on the border-line between the hero of maerchen and the epic hero.
-This development of the epic again mirrors the development of the hero
-saga described above. But, since epic poetry gives permanence to the
-unstable characters of the folk-saga, and thus, in turn, reacts upon
-the saga itself, its development is all the more capable of presenting
-a clear picture of that fusion of demon with human hero which gave rise
-to the god. It is by virtue of his human characteristics that the hero
-of the early epic is distinguished from the demons whose world as yet
-always forms his scene of action. These human characteristics are then
-more and more transferred to the demons. Throughout all these changes
-of environment, the hero remains the central figure of epic poetry, and
-continues to develop purely human characteristics. Hence it is that, at
-a later period, the gods again completely disappear from the action,
-and the destinies of human heroes come to be the exclusive concern
-of the epic. At this stage, it is no longer external factors that
-determine the destiny of the hero, as they did when demons and, later,
-gods were supreme; inner motives, whose source lies within the hero
-himself, are of paramount importance. When this occurs, however, epic
-poetry, has already passed beyond the boundaries of the heroic age.
-
-At one time it was held that the Homeric epic, so far from marking the
-climax of a development in which the world of heroes was brought into
-relation with that of the gods, really inaugurated epic poetry. During
-this period, the rhythmic-melodic form of Homer was regarded as the
-beginning of all narrative. Indeed, at times it has been thought to
-represent the beginning of language. Following the view of Jacob Grimm,
-it was maintained that poetry was the earliest form of speech, and
-that prose came through a process of deterioration analogous to that by
-which prehistoric deity and hero sagas passed into the maerchen. This
-theory, of course, is just as untenable for the history of language and
-poetry as it is for that of the saga. The original narrative is the
-maerchen-myth that passes artlessly from mouth to mouth. The transition
-to a form which is at first loosely constructed and then more strictly
-metrical, is clearly bound up with the transition from the hero of
-the maerchen to the hero of the saga. Coincident with this, gods also
-gradually gain a place in epic poetry. This development is accompanied
-by _two_ important external changes. The first of these involves the
-transformation of the everyday prose, in which the maerchen-myth had
-been expressed, into rhythmic-melodic forms. These are reinforced by
-a simple musical accompaniment that gives to the diction itself the
-character of a recitative melody. The second change consists in the
-fact that separate narratives are joined into a series, the basis of
-connection being, in part, the heroes who participate in the action
-and, in part, the content of the action itself. Thus, a romance-cycle
-arises, which, when supplemented by connecting narratives, finally
-develops into a great epic. As might be supposed, it is primarily
-the first and the last stage of this development that are accessible
-to direct observation--the romances of the early epic, preserved in
-folk-poetry, and the perfected poems, such as the Homeric epics and
-the _Niebelungenlied_. As regards the formation of these epics out of
-their separate elements, we can do no more than to frame hypotheses on
-the basis of somewhat uncertain inferences relating to differences in
-style and composition. There can be no doubt, however, that the more
-important step as regards the form of the epic, namely, the development
-of rhythmic-melodic expression, was directly bound up with its very
-first stage, namely, with the appearance of the earliest form of the
-heroic narrative--a form resembling the romance.
-
-But how may we account for this origin? Does the narrative of itself
-rise to song because of the more exalted character of its content?
-Or, is the rhythmic-melodic form imposed upon it from other previously
-existing types of poetry? Such poetry exists. The simple songs of
-primitive man we have already come to know; besides these, there
-are the cult-song, whose conjurations and petitions were addressed
-to demons prior to the advent of gods and heroes, and, finally, the
-work-song. This at once indicates that we must postulate a transference
-from the lyric type of song, taken in its broadest sense, to the
-narrative. Nevertheless, the first of the above-mentioned factors must
-not be disregarded. The heroic hero, of course, arouses far greater
-admiration and enthusiasm than did the maerchen-hero. Here, as in the
-case of the song, the intensification of mental excitement causes its
-verbal expression to assume rhythmic forms, precisely as the dominance
-of festive and joyous emotion in the dance transforms the external
-movements of the body into rhythmical pantomime. Doubtless, therefore,
-it was primarily from the cult-song, and under the influence of a
-related poetic ecstasy, that a sustained rhythmical form was carried
-over to the portrayal of the hero personality and his deeds. And so, as
-is clearly shown by the romance-like beginnings of epic composition,
-the metrical form of the epic first follows current song-forms, and
-then gradually adapts these to the specific needs of the narrative.
-Now, the earliest characteristic of the song, and that which at a
-primitive stage constitutes almost its only difference from ordinary
-speech, is the refrain. In the epic, the rhythm becomes smoother. The
-refrain disappears entirely, or occurs at most in the case of regularly
-recurring connective phrases or of stereotyped expressions relating
-to the attributes of the gods and heroes. These aid the rhapsodist
-in maintaining an uninterrupted, rhythmic flow of speech, and also
-continue to be used as means for intensifying the rhythmic impression.
-
-Epic poetry thus develops out of the earlier forms of lyric
-composition, through a process by which the exalted mood of the song
-is transferred to the portrayal of the hero personality. Finally,
-however, the epic itself reacts upon the lyric. Here again the
-cult-song occupies the foreground. When it reaches the stage of the
-hymn, its most effective content is found in narratives that centre
-about divine deeds which far transcend human capacities, or about
-the beneficent activity of the deity toward man. The tendency to
-incorporate such narratives is particularly marked in the song of
-praise and thanksgiving, which comes to occupy the dominant place in
-religious cult for the very reason that the mood which it expresses is
-at the basis of the common cult. At this point, cult acquires a further
-feature, the preconditions of which, however, date back to the age of
-demon cults. Even in the case of demons, aid was sought not merely by
-means of conjurations but also by means of _actions_ that imitated,
-in dances and solemn mask processions, the activities of demons. In
-the great vegetation festivals of New Mexico and Arizona, which are
-intermediate between demon and deity cults, there were imitative
-magical rites connected with the subterranean demons of the sprouting
-grain, with the rain-giving cloud demons above the earth, and also with
-the bright celestial gods who dwell beyond the clouds. After having
-originated in this sequence, these elements became united into a cult
-dance whose combination of motives resulted in the mimetic play, the
-imitative and pantomimic representation of a series of actions. Thus,
-the mime itself is the original form of the _drama_, which now takes
-its place beside the epic as a new form of poetry. What the epic
-portrays, the drama sets forth in living action. This accounts for
-the fact that, even in its later independent development, dramatic
-literature draws its material principally from the epic, or from the
-saga which circulates in folk-tradition as an epic narrative. Moreover,
-as may be noticed particularly in the history of the Greek drama, the
-transition was made but slowly from the individual rhapsodist, who
-sufficed for the rendering of the epic song, to the additional players
-necessary for setting forth the narrative in action.
-
-How essentially uniform this transition is, in spite of widely
-divergent conditions, is illustrated by the origin of the religious
-plays which grew out of the Christian cult. In reading the gospel, the
-priest assigned certain passages, originally spoken by participants
-in the particular event, to sacristans or priests associated in
-the ceremony, and the chorus of worshippers represented the people
-present at the event. In spite of, or, we might better say, because of
-their more recent origin, these Easter, Passion, and Christmas plays
-represent an early stage of development. In them, we can still follow,
-step by step, the growth of dramatic art out of church liturgy, and
-the resultant secularization of the religious play. Heightened emotion
-results in an impulse to translate the inner experience into action,
-and thus dramatic expression is given to certain incidents of the
-sacred narrative that are particularly suited for it. This tendency
-grows, and finally the entire scene is acted out, the congregational
-responses of the liturgy passing over into the chorus of the drama.
-Common to the responses of the congregation and the chorus of the
-dramatic play, is the fact of an active participation in that which
-is transpiring. Though this participation is inner and subjective,
-in the one case, and objective, in the other, the response of the
-congregation to the priest in the liturgy is nevertheless preparatory
-to the chorus of the drama. It is inevitable, however, that this change
-should gradually lead to a break with liturgy. The portrayal of the
-sacred action is transferred from the church to the street; the clergy
-are supplanted by secular players from among the people. Even within
-the sacred walls folk-humour had inserted burlesque episodes--such,
-for example, as the mimic portrayal of Peter's violence to the servant
-Malchus, or the running of the Apostles to the grave of Christ. These
-now gained the upper hand, and finally formed independent mimetic
-comedies. The serious plays, on their part, also drew material, even at
-this time, from sources other than sacred history. The newly awakened
-dramatic impulse received further stimulus from various directions.
-The old travelling comedy, wandering from market to market with its
-exhibitions, now of gruesomely serious, now of keenly humorous,
-action, was a factor in the creation of the modern drama, no less than
-were the amusing performances of the accompanying puppet-show. Added
-to these, as a new factor, was the short novel, a prose narrative
-cultivated with partiality particularly since the Renaissance; there
-was also its elder sister, the imaginary maerchen, as well as the epic
-of chivalry in its popular prose versions, and, finally, that which
-more clearly approximates to the religious starting-point, the saint
-legend--all of these united in giving impetus to the modern drama.
-
-Now, the similarity of this development to that of the ancient drama
-is so marked that, even where details are lacking, we may regard the
-nature of the transitions as identical so far as their general features
-are concerned. Indeed, we should doubtless be justified in assuming
-that in whatever other localities a dramatic art was perfected, as, for
-example, in India, the course of development was essentially the same
-as that which has been described. True, the development cannot proceed
-to its termination apart from an advance in cult and poetry such as
-was attained but rarely. Its sources, however, are always to be found
-in universal human characteristics which were operative in the very
-beginnings of art and cult. The two factors upon which the later drama
-depends may be detected even in the corroboree of the Australians.
-The corroboree is a cult dance whose central feature is a regulated
-imitation of the actions of totem animals, accompanied by song and
-noisy music. This imitation of animals also leads to the insertion of
-humorous episodes. Indeed, even in the corroboree, these episodes are
-frequently so numerous as to crowd out completely the cult purpose--an
-early anticipation of the secularization which everywhere took place in
-the art that originated in cult. In numerous other details as well, the
-continuity of development is apparent. Suggestions of the animal dance
-occur in the satyric plays of the Greeks. This same satyric drama took
-over the phallus-bearing choral dancers from the vegetation festival.
-In striking correspondence, as K. Th. Preusz has pointed out, and
-indicative of analogous customs, are the phallephoric representations
-found in ancient Mexican cult pictures. The puppet-show, which was
-perhaps not the least among the factors leading to the secularization
-of the drama, was not only universally to be found during the Middle
-Ages, but in India it made its appearance at an early period. It occurs
-even among peoples of nature, as, for example, among the Esquimos.
-Among these peoples, the doll and its movements always represent
-an imitation of man himself and of his pantomimes. But, though the
-tendencies to dramatic representation and, in part, even the beginnings
-of the drama, reach back to the early stages of art, the developed
-drama was the product of a later period, and was dependent for its rise
-upon almost all the other verbal and mimetic arts. The drama, however,
-may always be traced back to deity cult. The religious hymn which
-extols the deeds of the gods is a direct incentive to the translation
-of these deeds into personal action. The motives for the dramatic
-elaboration of liturgy were present particularly in those deity cults
-which combined soul cults with ideas of a beyond, and which centred
-about the life, the sufferings, and the final salvation of the gods,
-and the transference of these experiences to the human soul. The
-development of the mediaeval Easter and Passion plays may be traced,
-step by step, from their origin. It is this development, particularly,
-that throws clear light upon early Greek and Indian drama, whose
-beginnings in the mystery cults are rendered obscure by the secrecy
-of the cults. These latter dramas, in turn, clearly indicate that the
-original source of dramatic representations is to be found in the very
-ancient vegetation ceremonies, which, in part, were transmitted to
-the heroic age from a period as early as that of demon cults. After
-the dramatic performance has been transferred from the temple to the
-market-place and the drama has become secularized, the further course
-of development naturally differs both with the conditions of the age
-and with the character of the culture. Nevertheless, however, the epic
-narrative, the mimetic representation, and the older forms of the song
-may have co-operated in the development of the drama, the latter, like
-the epic, steadily descends from the lofty realms of the heroes and
-gods, down to the dwellings of men. In the portrayal of human strivings
-and sufferings, moreover, the centre of interest shifts from the
-mysterious course of external events to the secrets of the human soul.
-But herewith again the drama transcends the boundaries of the heroic
-age. Its beginnings grow out of early deity cult. In its final stages,
-dramatic art, with its insight into human life as it is directly lived,
-becomes the vehicle of the idea of humanity in the entire scope of its
-meaning, comprehending both the heights and the depths of human life.
-
-Closely bound up with the psychological motives underlying the
-development of the drama is the last of the musical arts--namely,
-_music_. We may refer to it as the last of these arts for the reason
-that it attained to independence later than any of the others. As a
-dependent art, however, accompanying the dance, the song, or the epic
-recital, it dates back to the age of primitive man. Musical art, also,
-received its first noteworthy stimulus from cult, as an accompaniment
-of the cult dance and the cult song. The strong emotions aroused by
-the cult activity caused a constantly increasing emphasis to be placed
-on the musical part of the ceremony, leading particularly to the
-development of melody. The polyphonic song of the many-voiced chorus
-of the cult members, and the music of the accompanying instruments
-which gradually assumed the same character, eventually developed
-into harmonic modulation. This introduced musical effects of a novel
-sort, such as were not possible for the accompaniment of the reciting
-rhapsodist and were attained only imperfectly by the common song.
-Thus, dramatic and musical art both sprang from the same religious
-root, the liturgic ceremonial, thence to pursue different directions
-of development. Later they again united in the case of certain
-particularly emotional parts of the dramatic action, first of all in
-the choral song, which is thus reminiscent of their common origin in
-liturgy. With this exception, however, the emancipation of dramatic
-and of musical art from their common cult origin was succeeded by a
-long period in which they remained distinct. Hence it is certainly not
-without significance that the creator of the modern art-synthesis,
-the music drama, himself felt his achievement to be religious in
-character. Whether or not this may be affirmed as regards the content
-of the music drama, it is true so far as the fact of combining the two
-arts is concerned. But it is no less noteworthy that in this case also
-the separation of itself engenders the motives for the reunion. When
-the drama was transferred from the temple to the public market-place
-and then descended from the sphere of gods and heroes to the reality
-of everyday life, it lost, first its musical-melodic form, and then
-its elevated rhythm, thus giving way to prose. The liturgic song that
-survived in the cult, however, entered into reciprocal relations with
-the secular forms of the song, and a copious interchange of melodic
-motives ensued. With the same justification, perhaps, as in the case
-of the origin of the dramatic play in general, we may interpret the
-older developments by reference to the interchange between sacred and
-secular songs that took place in Christendom during the Middle Ages.
-The endeavour to combine dramatic with lyric and musical enjoyment gave
-rise to hybrid forms of art, to the musical play and the opera. This
-prepared the way for the further attempt to transcend these composite
-forms of art by creating a new unity of drama and music. Thus, the aim
-was to restore the original synthesis on a higher plane, not limited
-to particular religious cults but taking into account universal human
-emotions. Yet the entire development of this later art, as well as that
-of its component elements, the drama and the song, again carries us far
-beyond the limits of the heroic age. It extends over into a period in
-which, on the one hand, man supplants the hero and, on the other, the
-religious advance to a superpersonal god displaces those deities who
-suffer from the defects which they have inherited from their human
-prototypes and their demon ancestors--namely, the personal gods.
-
-Along with the above-mentioned development of musical art there is
-also a second change, which appears on the surface to be antithetical
-to the former, but which in reality supplements it. This change
-consists in the separation of musical expression from the various
-elements with which it was originally connected, and in its entrance
-upon a free and independent development. In the recitative of the
-rhapsodist, in the liturgy of the temple service, in dance and song,
-the rhythmic-melodic elements are, to a certain extent, limited by
-the rhythmic-melodic possibilities of language. In part, it is true,
-they have freed themselves from this limitation--namely, in the
-instrumental accompaniment--and yet they fail to attain to independence
-so long as they are but means for intensifying the expression which
-emotion receives in language and mimicry. From this double bondage to
-the rhythmic-melodic powers of human expressive movements and to the
-thought content of language, musical art finally frees itself. While
-the musical instrument was at first a means designed to assist man in
-his endeavour to give direct expression to his emotions, man's activity
-in the case of 'absolute music' becomes limited to the mastery of
-the instrument itself. This renders available a wealth of new tonal
-possibilities, and adds an inexhaustible supply of new motifs for the
-expression of feelings and emotions. Musical art thus becomes purely
-a language of emotions. Free from connection with specific ideas, it
-in no wise restricts the experiences which the hearer may enjoy. It
-affects these experiences only in so far as the musical production is
-itself a portrayal of pure emotions. Inasmuch as music is not bound by
-concepts or ideas, its effect upon the hearer will be the purer and the
-more intense according as he is the more receptive to the particular
-emotions in question. In the form of the instrumental composition,
-therefore, music is the most subjective of the musical arts, as are
-landscape-painting and its related forms, though not in so pronounced
-a degree, of the plastic arts. Like these arts, and even more so,
-music is the expression of purely subjective feelings. Hence, it, as
-well as they, far transcends the boundaries of the heroic age, whose
-fundamental characteristic is attachment to the objective world. In
-the heroic age, the individual may indeed transfuse the outer world
-with his emotions, but he is never able to isolate his emotions from
-objects. Consequently, though art places its media at his disposal, he
-is unable to utilize them in giving expression, in its independence, to
-the inner life of personality.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER IV
-
-THE DEVELOPMENT TO HUMANITY
-
-
-
-1. THE CONCEPT 'HUMANITY.'
-
-
-The question, Do we live in an enlightened age? was answered by Kant,
-with reference to his own time--which, as is well known, laid claim to
-the distinction--flatly in the negative. He added, however, that the
-age was doubtless one of increasing enlightenment. One might, perhaps,
-be even more justified in raising a similar question with reference
-to the relation of our own and of preceding ages to a universally
-human culture, and in answering: We are on the way to this goal, but
-are still far from having actually reached it. Indeed, in view of
-human imperfection, it may be doubted whether we will ever be able to
-reach it, unless the imperfection itself be included as an element
-in such a culture. The ambiguity of the word 'humanity' is such that
-it may signify human weaknesses as well as human sympathy and other
-virtues. It was in the latter, the more favourable, sense of the term
-that Herder, even in his day, attempted, in his "Ideas," to portray
-the history of mankind as an "education to humanity." This expression
-suggests that history manifests only a ceaseless striving toward true
-humanity; the goal itself lies beyond the reach of possible experience.
-
-Now, a survey of the course of progress described in the preceding
-chapters may well cause us to doubt whether the presupposition
-from which Herder set out in his reflections on the philosophy of
-history is correct. The assumption that factors preparatory to the
-development to humanity are already to be found in the original nature
-of man--indeed, even earlier than this, in the general conditions of
-his natural environment--is not beyond question. Neither primitive
-nor totemic man shows the faintest trace of what we should, strictly
-speaking, call humanity. He gives evidence merely of an attachment to
-the nearest associates of horde or tribe, such as is foreshadowed even
-among animals of social habits. In addition, he exhibits but occasional
-manifestations of a friendly readiness to render assistance when danger
-threatens at the hands of strangers.
-
-It is not until the heroic age that we encounter phenomena such as
-might properly be interpreted to indicate the gradual rise of feelings
-of humanity. But if we take into account the entire character of this
-age, we are more inclined to contrast it, precisely when it reaches its
-zenith, with all that we to-day understand by humanity. Consider, for
-example, the sharply demarcated State organizations of the heroic era,
-its depreciation of strange peoples, and its repudiation of universal
-human ties, brusquely expressed during times of war in its treatment
-of the enemy and, during times of peace, in slavery. The question as
-to whether and in how far the beginnings of our ideas of humanity
-reach back into the past and prevail at lower levels of culture, is
-confronted with a serious difficulty. Conceptions such as these are
-obviously themselves products of a long development and have been
-in constant flux. The concept 'humanity' suffers from an ambiguity
-which has attached to it ever since the time of its origin, and which
-has in no wise diminished as the word has acquired broader meanings.
-The word _humanitas_, which in later classical Latin was practically
-equivalent to our concept 'human nature,' in both its good and its
-bad connotations, acquired an additional meaning in the language of
-mediaeval scholars. During this period of strong partiality for abstract
-word formations, the term came to be used also for the collective
-concept 'mankind,' that is, the Roman _genus hominum_--a concept
-independent of value judgments of any sort. Thus, the word passed
-over into our more modern languages with a twofold significance.
-Although the German language developed the two words _Menschlichkeit_
-and _Menschheit_, corresponding to the conceptual distinction just
-indicated, the two meanings were again combined in the foreign word
-_Humanitaet_. This is exemplified by Herder's phrase, _Erziehung zur
-Humanitaet_ (education to humanity). For, in using this phrase to sum up
-the meaning of history, Herder meant that the striving which underlies
-all history was not merely for the development of the qualities of
-humanity (_Menschlichkeit_), in the highest sense of the term, but
-also essentially for their gradual extension to the whole of mankind
-(_Menschheit_).
-
-But, whatever our opinion concerning the possible success of such
-striving and concerning the relation of its two phases, there can be
-no doubt that the concept 'humanity,' which has become common property
-among civilized peoples, combines an objective with a subjective
-aspect. On the one hand, 'humanity' means the _whole_ of mankind,
-or, at any rate, a preponderant part of it, such as may be regarded
-as representative of the whole. On the other hand, 'humanity' is a
-value-attribute. It has reference to the complete development of the
-ethical characteristics which differentiate man from the animal, and to
-their expression in the intercourse of individuals and of peoples. This
-latter thought incorporates in the term 'humanity' the meaning both
-of 'mankind' and of 'human nature,' although it ignores the secondary
-implication of human imperfection which 'human nature' involves and
-takes into account only its laudable characteristics. Humanity, when
-predicated of an individual, means that he transcends the limits of
-all more restricted associations, such as family, tribe, or State,
-and possesses an appreciation of human personality as such; in its
-application to human society, it represents a demand for an ideal
-condition in which this appreciation of human worth shall have become
-a universal norm. This ideal, however, is subject to growth, and,
-like all ideals, is never completely realizable. Hence the following
-sketch of the conditions which succeed the age of heroes and gods
-cannot undertake to do more than point to the phenomena that give
-expression to the new motives that dominate this later period. Sharp
-demarcations are in this instance even less possible than in the case
-of the earlier stages of human development. The more comprehensive
-the range of human strivings and activities, the more gradual are the
-transitions and the more fully are the underlying motives--precisely
-because they involve the universally human--foreshadowed in the natural
-predispositions and impulses of man. Tendencies to esteem man as man,
-and a willingness to render him assistance, are not foreign even to
-the primitive mind. Even at the beginnings of human culture there are
-present, dimly conscious, those tendencies out of which the idea of
-humanity may finally develop. Moreover, every later advance seems to
-lead in the direction of this conception. The transition from tribe
-into State, the changing intercourse of peoples, and the spread over
-wide regions of the mental creations of a single people, of language,
-religion, and customs--all these phenomena are obviously steps on the
-way to the idea of humanity and to its permanent incorporation into
-all departments of human endeavour. Neither in its rise nor in its
-further changes, moreover, does this new idea entail the disappearance
-of previous conditions or of the psychical factors involved in their
-development. On the contrary, humanitarian culture takes up into itself
-the creations of preceding eras, und allows them to take firmer root.
-Thus, the idea of a cultural community of peoples has not weakened,
-but, so far as we may conclude from the past course of history, has
-strengthened and enriched, the self-consciousness of separate peoples
-and the significance of the individual State. The dissemination
-of cultural products has not resulted in their decrease. National
-differences have led rather to the increase of these products, and have
-thus enhanced the value attaching to the spiritual distinctiveness of a
-people and of the individual personality. That we may here, even more
-than in the case of the earlier periods of cultural history, speak
-only of _relative_ values, needs scarcely be remarked. Humanitarian
-development includes a vast number of new conditions, in addition to
-those that underlie the preceding stages of culture. Since, moreover,
-the synthesis at which this development aims is everywhere still in
-the process of becoming, the way itself is for the time being the
-attainable goal. We may neither be said to be on the way _to_ humanity,
-if we mean by this a condition in which none but humanitarian interests
-prevail, nor does a humanitarian age, in the sense of the exclusion
-of more restricted human relations, appear at all within the field of
-vision disclosed to us as a result of past history. As a legacy from
-the primitive era, man has permanently retained not only the general
-needs of individual life but also the most restricted forms of family
-and tribal organization. In like manner, it will be impossible for an
-age of humanity ever to dispense with the more limited articulations
-of State and society that have arisen in the course of cultural
-development. Scarcely any general result stands out as more certain, in
-a retrospective survey of our investigations, than the fact that, while
-every period discards as worthless a vast number of products, some of
-which were valuable to an earlier age, there are other products which
-prove to be imperishable. From this point of view, that which precedes
-is not merely preparatory to the further course of development but
-is itself the beginning of the development. The immediate beginning,
-however, is veiled in obscurity. The earlier age is ever unconsciously
-preparing the way for one that is to come. The clan of primitive tribal
-organization had no idea of a coming State, nor had the ancient demon
-worshipper any notion of a cult of rewarding and punishing celestial
-deities, yet State and deity cult could not have arisen except for
-clan and demon-belief. Similarly, the earlier modes of collective life
-possessed the idea of humanity only in the form of a hidden germ. Hence
-we may not properly describe these preparatory stages, which exhibit
-phenomena of a different and, in part, an entirely dissimilar sort, as
-a development to humanity. The term applies rather to an age in which
-the idea of humanity, having come to clear consciousness, exercises
-an influence upon the various phases of culture, and is entertained
-by a sufficiently large portion of mankind to insure its permanent
-effectiveness. But even with this limitation the development may not be
-regarded as one of uninterrupted progress. However widely disseminated
-the humanitarian idea may come to be, there will remain localities and
-levels of culture to which it has not penetrated. But, inasmuch as
-peoples of very different cultural stages enter into relations with
-one another, the possibility is open for such a turn of events as will
-obscure the idea of the development to humanity for long periods. That
-such deviations from the path of progress have frequently occurred in
-the past is certain; that they are never to occur in the future is
-scarcely probable. For this reason one can scarcely hope to do more
-than to show that, in spite of such retrogressions, the development
-to humanity forms a generally connected whole, and that here also
-psychological law is regnant.
-
-That such law prevails is at once evident from the fact that of the two
-conceptions which we have found to be involved in the idea of humanity,
-the _external_ and objective concept expressed by the collective
-term 'mankind' is historically the earlier; the concept referring to
-_inner_ characteristics, and associated in the consciousness of the
-individual with clearly defined value-feelings, follows only gradually.
-We might express this relationship by the phrase, Mankind must
-prepare the way for human nature. This does not imply that isolated
-manifestations of the latter might not long precede the rise of the
-idea of mankind--indeed, must necessarily have preceded it, in so far
-as a predisposition is concerned. It means merely that human nature
-did not, as a matter of fact, attain to its complete development, nor
-was it able to do so, until after the idea of the unity of mankind had
-progressed beyond the stage of vague impulses or of recognition on the
-part of but a few individuals in advance of their age. In other words:
-The collective concept 'mankind,' as representing, not merely a generic
-term created by the intellect, but a real totality ultimately uniting
-all its members in a social whole, preceded the concept 'human nature,'
-as connoting a recognition of universal human rights to which each of
-the members of the human race may lay claim, and of duties which he, in
-turn, owes to human society. The case could not be otherwise. Unless
-the idea of mankind were already present in some form, even though
-this be at the outset inadequate, the requirement that an individual
-give expression to humanitarian sentiments would be impossible, since
-there would be no object of the activity. If we consider the sequence
-of the various phenomena involved in the development to humanity, we
-find a striking agreement between history and the results to which
-our analysis of the concept 'humanity' has led us. The earliest of
-the phenomena here in question dates far back to the beginnings of
-the events known to us through historical monuments, and consists
-in the rise of _world empires_. Though the term 'world empire' is
-sometimes used to refer merely to a great kingdom that results from
-the absorption of a number of separate States, such a use of the word
-does not do justice to its meaning. The idea of world empire really
-comes into existence only at the moment when such a kingdom lays claim
-to embracing the terrestrial part of the universe, and therefore the
-whole of mankind, however much this claim may represent a mere demand
-which has never, of course, actually been realized. The very fact of
-the demand, however, itself involves the conscious idea of a unity
-embracing the whole of mankind. Moreover, the endeavour to realize this
-ambition follows with inner necessity in the case of all political
-organizations that call themselves world empires, particularly at the
-period of their zenith and of an increasing consciousness of power.
-This leads to further important results, which, though at first
-doubtless not consciously sought, nevertheless later increasingly
-become the object of voluntary endeavour. Though externally retaining
-the traditional political organization, the world empire required
-an extension of the institutions of law and of administration that
-had thus far prevailed in the more limited State. A similar change
-gradually took place in connection with intercourse and its fostering
-agencies, and subsequently in connection with language, customs, and
-religious beliefs. Thus, it was the world empire that first prepared
-the way for _world culture_, only meagre beginnings of which existed
-in the period of a more restricted political life. The extension of
-wants and of the means of their satisfaction was first evident in
-the field of commerce, though a similar tendency came more and more
-to prevail in the various departments of mental life. Pre-eminent
-among these interests was the one which is the most universal and
-is based on the most common needs, such as are experienced by all
-members of human society, namely, _religion_. Thus, as one of the
-last of the creations possessing universal human significance, _world
-religion_ makes its appearance. The preceding age did not progress
-beyond national religions. However much the mythological elements of
-cult, in particular, may have travelled from one people to another,
-these elements were assimilated by the national religions. Inasmuch
-as these religions continued, on the whole, to preserve their own
-identities, the fact that any elements were of foreign origin very soon
-disappeared from the folk-consciousness. Not until the period which
-we are now discussing do we find religions that lay claim to being
-universal. Even though this claim may remain a mere demand, just as
-in the case of the world empire, it is precisely as such that every
-historical world religion has asserted its influence. This striving
-for universality is far keener in connection with world religion than
-it is in the case of world empire and world culture. In comparison
-with this endeavour to become universal, the fact that no period ever
-witnessed merely a single world religion is relatively unimportant,
-though not to be overlooked in considering the spiritual needs of
-mankind. Disregarding subordinate religions and such as are of less
-significance for culture as a whole, there are at least _two_ great
-world religions, Christianity and Buddhism. These have asserted
-themselves side by side, and will presumably continue further to
-maintain themselves, inasmuch as they correspond to sharply defined
-characteristics of universal world culture. Finally, world culture and
-the world religions form the basis of _world history_, a third element
-in the collective consciousness of mankind. If we understand by 'world
-history,' not the political or cultural events that simultaneously run
-their independent courses, but the historic consciousness of mankind
-itself, combining the idea of mankind as a unity with that of the
-development of this unity in accordance with law, then world history,
-in this, the only accurate meaning of the term, is the last of all the
-factors involved in the idea of humanity. Since the individual who is
-developing in the direction of the ideal of humanity mirrors all other
-aspects of human nature, world history ultimately becomes for him the
-gradual realization of the idea of humanity. Thus, world empires, world
-culture, world religions, and world history represent the four main
-steps in the development to humanity.
-
-
-
-2. WORLD EMPIRES.
-
-
-Even in the midst of the spiritual forces dominating the heroic age
-there are phenomena that foreshadow a development transcending the
-limits of this period. Of these phenomena, none is more prominent
-than the striving for world dominion. The first battles of early
-political organizations, and the victories over conquered peoples, led
-to an enhanced consciousness of power on the part of the individual
-State. This consciousness found expression, first in strife between
-neighbouring dominions, and later, as soon as one of these had
-gained the supremacy, in the establishment of an empire including
-many separate States. Such an impulse to transcend the limits of the
-single State is so natural and so directly prefigured in the motives
-to individual action that we come upon it wherever any historically
-active political organizations have arisen. In the realms of western
-Asia, such attempts are to be found from the time of the Sumerian and
-Accadian States down to the struggle of Babylon and Assyria for the
-rulership of the world. Egypt had a succession of dynasties which at
-first glance might seem to simulate a unified history, but which in
-reality represents the transference of supreme power from one State or
-city to another, and along with this the growing ambition for a single
-all-embracing dominion. The same phenomenon appears in the struggle of
-the Greek and Latin tribes for hegemony, and also in the foundation of
-the great Persian kingdom of the Achaemenidae; the latter gave way to the
-world empire of Alexander, which, though of short duration, was never
-again equalled in magnitude; succeeding it, came the world empire of
-the Romans, the last that could properly lay claim to the name.
-
-It is in Egypt, on the one hand, and in the succession of West-Asiatic
-kingdoms, on the other, that the first stages of this development of a
-world kingdom out of the dominance of one powerful State over a number
-of vassal States are clearly exhibited. The struggle for supremacy, in
-which vassal might elevate himself to the position of ruler and lord be
-reduced to vassal, and in which newly immigrant peoples often took a
-decisive part, immeasurably enhanced the striving to extend the sphere
-of dominion. This development reached its culmination when the supreme
-ruler of a power that dominated a very considerable number of vassal
-States expressly asserted the claim of being _ruler of the world_. The
-fact that such a claim was made wherever a supremacy of this sort came
-into existence under conditions of relatively limited intercourse,
-testifies to the immanent necessity of the development. Wherever the
-domain of such an empire approximated the limits of the known world,
-the universal State was conceived as including also the rest of the
-inhabited earth. This conception came to expression in the title which
-the ruler regularly assumed. He laid claim to being the king of kings,
-the overlord of the world, the ruler of the 'four quarters of the
-earth.' Through a reversal of that process of transference by which
-the characteristics of the terrestrial State were carried over, in
-deity cult, to the divine State, the ruler of the terrestrial State now
-himself became a god. This accounts for the surprising uniformity with
-which the idea of a god-monarch arose wherever that of a world monarch
-was developed. In the pre-Babylonian realms of the Euphrates and Tigris
-valleys, the ruler erected his own image, as an object of worship, in
-the temple; in the land of the Pharaohs, the heads of the sphinxes
-placed in front of the temples bore the features of the monarch. Even
-Alexander the Great commanded that the Egyptian priests greet him as
-a son of the god Amon Re; after acquiring the authority of the great
-Persian kings, he demanded from those about him the external signs of
-divine adoration. Similarly, the Roman emperors of the period from
-Diocletian down to Constantine. In spite of their inclination toward
-republican offices and customs, which by their very nature militated
-against such ceremonial, these emperors accepted the idea that the
-world ruler should be worshipped in cult. As the god-idea gained
-increasing power, however, deity cult itself presented a counteracting
-influence to the fusion of the ideas of world ruler and deity. A
-rivalry arose between god and ruler. The king whose omnipotence led
-to his deification repelled the ruler of heaven, and the ruler of
-heaven and earth, on his part, refused to tolerate any rival of earthly
-origin. This led to a temporary compromise in which the ruler, though
-not himself regarded as a deity, was nevertheless held to be the son
-of a god, as well as the agent who executed the divine will. Or, after
-the pattern of hero myths, and in remote resemblance to ancestor
-cult, the ruler was believed to enter into the heaven of gods upon
-his death, so that it came to be only the deceased ruler who received
-divine adoration. The later rulers of Babylon, for example, called
-themselves the sons of Marduk, who was the chief god of Babylonia,
-and the features of this deity were given to the image of Hammurabi.
-The Roman emperors, on the other hand, from the time of Augustus on,
-were accorded divine reverence after death. When the king, realizing
-the exalted character of divine majesty, finally came to feel himself
-entirely human, these practices vanished. The emperor now became either
-the mere representative of the deity or one who was divinely favoured
-above other men. Hence the development terminates in a formula of
-royalty which has even yet not disappeared--the formula, "by the grace
-of God."
-
-The development which we have described progressed continuously
-from beginnings that were almost contemporary with those of States
-until it eventuated in the world State. What, we must now ask, were
-its motivating forces? We cannot ascribe it to a craving for power
-which overmasters the ruler of the single State as soon as he has
-successfully conquered a foreign territory and a foreign people.
-Doubtless this factor was operative, yet it was obviously an effect
-rather than a cause, although an effect which, in the reciprocal
-relations of impulses, itself forthwith became a cause. But the
-immediate and decisive factors that led to the idea of establishing
-a world State, are to be found only partly in the motives underlying
-the extension of the single State into a world State, and in the
-results connected with the attainment of this ambition. These motives
-and results were, in the first instance, of an external nature. They
-consisted in the fact that the world State enjoyed increased means
-of subsistence and power by reason of the tribute which it received
-from subjugated provinces or from vassal States. Tributes of grain
-and cattle, of precious stones and metals, and especially of valuable
-human material, were placed at the command of the Pharaoh, or of the
-Babylonian or Persian monarch, for the building of his canals, his
-temples, and his palaces, for military services, and for an officialdom
-more directly subject to his will than were free-born natives.
-Everything which the single State required for its maintenance was
-demanded in a heightened degree by the world empire. Thus, it was
-the concentration of the means of subsistence and power that led to
-the displacement of the single State by the world empire, just as it
-was the same influence, on a smaller scale, that gave to the State
-its ascendancy over the earlier tribal organization. In extending
-its authority over wider and wider territory, the world empire
-itself finally perished as a result of the increasing difficulty in
-unifying its forces. It either broke up into separate States or a
-similar process of expansion started anew within the same boundaries,
-beginning now with one of the erstwhile vassal States and now with a
-new tribe that migrated into the territory. The first of these changes
-is illustrated by the Babylonian-Assyrian empires; the other, by the
-catastrophes suffered almost contemporaneously by the realm of the
-Pharaohs, through the influx of the Hyksos, and by Babylon, at the
-hands of the conquering hordes of the Hittites. The same phenomena
-recur in the partition of the empire of Alexander the Great and in the
-downfall of the Roman world empire. Unless world empires degenerate
-into a mere semblance of universal dominion, as did the Holy Roman
-Empire, they obviously become the more short-lived in proportion as
-history comes to move the more rapidly. Hence the Napoleonic attempt
-to revive the old idea in a new form became a mere episode. The single
-State finally triumphed over the world empire, and everything goes to
-show that the idea of an all-embracing world empire is little likely to
-recur unless the continuity of history is to be seriously interrupted.
-
-It thus appears that the idea of establishing a world empire is
-not to be accounted for solely in terms of a constant striving to
-augment the means of power. Such endeavour prevails now, no less than
-formerly, in every State that has in any way attained to an independent
-development of its power. At the present time, however, none but at
-most an occasional Utopian dreamer adheres to the idea of creating
-an all-inclusive world State. Even where this occurs the idea is
-completely antithetical to that of earlier times. The ideal which is
-at present proposed for the distant future involves, not the extension
-of any single State into a world State, but rather the dissolution
-of existing States and the establishment of a society of universal
-peace among nations, such as would render entirely superfluous any
-instruments of power on the part of the State itself. But we have
-further evidence that the impulse to increase the means of power
-could not have been the only, nor even the decisive, factor in the
-development of the idea of a world empire. This evidence is to be found
-in the fact that, while a world empire never existed except as an
-idea, the age in which this idea dominated history regarded the world
-empire as a reality. Hence there must have been other motives, of an
-ideal nature, to bridge over the chasm between idea and reality in such
-wise as to identify the former with the latter. Though it is possible
-to urge, in explanation, that the knowledge of the real world was at
-that time limited, this does not solve the problem. Even though the
-Babylonian king might have felt satisfied to call himself the ruler
-over the four quarters of the earth because practically all countries
-of which he had knowledge in the four directions of the wind paid
-tribute to him, this of itself is not adequate to account for the fact
-that he regarded the universality as absolute and not relative. Over
-and above the fact of a limitation of knowledge, there was requisite
-particularly the idea of the _unity of the world_, and the application
-of this idea to the reality given in perception. This idea of unity is
-similar to that of the absolute unity of the world-order whose centre
-is the earth, an idea that dominated the astronomical conceptions of
-antiquity. Both ideas, that of a world empire embracing the whole of
-mankind and that of a universe whose centre is the earth and whose
-boundary is the crystal sphere of the heaven of fixed stars, sprang
-from the same mythological world-view that also found expression in
-the conception of a divine State projected from earth into heaven. To
-these gods, with a supreme deity at their head, belonged the rulership
-of the world. Whenever a change in the city that formed the centre
-of the terrestrial world empire resulted in a new supreme deity,
-the conditions of the earthly kingdom were all the more faithfully
-mirrored in the divine kingdom, for the other gods became, as it
-were, the vassals of this supreme deity. This mythological picture,
-projected from the earth to heaven, was necessarily reflected back
-again to earth. Herein lies the deeper significance of the idea that
-the ruler of the world empire is himself a god, or, at the least, a
-person of divine lineage and the representative of the supreme guardian
-deity of the kingdom. It is precisely because of this connection with
-mythological conceptions that world empires were but transitory. The
-period of their zenith and, more particularly, the period in which
-they possessed a fair degree of stability, coincided absolutely with
-the time at which deity myth was at its height. In the age of a waning
-deity belief, it was only the influence of numerous elements of secular
-culture, combined with a high degree of adaptability to the conditions
-of individual States, such as the Roman mind acquired under the
-conjunction of unusual circumstances, that enabled the idea of a world
-empire to be again carried into realization, within the limits which we
-have set to the term. Proof of the inner connection between the idea
-of a world empire and a mythological conception of the world, is to be
-found even in the case of Diocletian, the last powerful representative
-of the idea of a world kingdom. Diocletian not only invested the Roman
-emperor with the attributes of the Oriental world ruler of ancient
-times, but also claimed for himself the worship due to an earthly
-Jupiter.
-
-
-
-3. WORLD CULTURE.
-
-
-Inasmuch as the world empire belongs essentially to the age of deity
-cults, it is not so much a realization of the idea of humanity as a
-preparation for it, presaging a development beyond that of the single
-State. That this is the case manifests itself even in the temporal
-sequence of the phenomena. For it is at most anticipatory elements of
-the idea of humanity that are embodied in the world empire. With the
-disintegration of world empires, however, partly as their after-effect
-and partly as the result of their dissolution, we find phenomena of
-a new sort--those comprehended under the term _world culture_. In
-so far as the rise of world empire involves factors that lead to
-world culture, these affect primarily the material aspect of the
-life of peoples--world intercourse, the resulting multiplication of
-needs on the part of peoples, and the exchange of the means for the
-satisfaction of these needs. The spiritual phases of culture, which
-outlast these external and material phases, make their appearance
-more particularly at the time when the world empire is approaching
-its end. Since, however, it is these spiritual phases that are of
-predominant significance, world culture as a whole is to be regarded as
-an after-effect of world empire rather than as a direct result toward
-which the latter has contributed. The reason for this is not far to
-seek. It lies in the one-sided striving for the acquisition of external
-means of power, and in the consequent despotic pressure which the
-world empire, particularly in ancient times, brought to bear upon its
-separate members. It is also connected, however, with the fact that the
-dissolution of world empires usually brings in its wake migrations and
-a shifting of peoples. Even within the culture of the ancient Orient,
-the spread of the elements of myth and saga, as well as of the products
-of art and science, came especially with the destruction of earlier
-world empires and the reconstruction of others. The empire of Alexander
-the Great led to what was perhaps the greatest epoch of world culture
-in the history of civilization, yet the latter was conditioned, not so
-much directly by this empire, as by its disintegration at the time of
-the Diadochi. Similarly, the downfall of the last world empire that
-may properly lay claim to the name--the Graeco-Roman kingdom--likewise
-resulted in a great cultural movement, due in part to the shifting of
-peoples which took place at this time, though more especially to the
-spread of Christianity. Here, again, the fact that the world empire
-was preparatory to world culture is substantiated. For the dying world
-empire employed even the last powers over which, in its final agony,
-it still had control, to pave the way for the world religion that was
-taking its rise.
-
-Nevertheless, as a result of the tremendous resources which, in the
-beginnings of a higher civilization, were possessed by the world empire
-alone, there was _one_ field in which the period of such empires was
-directly creative and in which it set an example to future ages. I
-refer to the technique of mass and to the monumental art connected
-with it. The streets, viaducts, and magnificent edifices of the period
-of the Roman emperors have long aroused the wonder and admiration of
-later generations, as monuments of a power that had unlimited means at
-its command. The constructions of the Egyptian, Babylonian-Assyrian,
-and Persian world empires lacked the artistic execution which the
-influence of Greek art made possible to the constructions of the
-Romans. We have now come to know, however, that the former were not
-surpassed by the latter in the immensity which resulted from the
-consciousness, on the part of the builders, that they had countless
-human forces at their disposal. The canals and roadways of the Egyptian
-and Babylonian monarchs, moreover, also give clear evidence that the
-needs of agriculture and commerce were provided for in a way that would
-have been impossible, in these early stages of world culture, except
-through the resources at the command of a world State. The extension
-of intercourse resulting from world empire is to be regarded as at
-least a partial factor in the transition to the institution of money.
-It exercised an influence also toward the development of a system of
-writing, whose purpose it was to communicate the decrees of government
-to officials and vassals, and to preserve a record of the deeds of
-rulers and of the laws enacted by them. In this wise, the material
-aspects of world culture exerted an influence upon the mental aspects,
-whose direct expressions are speech and writing.
-
-As regards the relation of speech and writing, the two fundamental
-elements of all culture, the culture of individuals and world culture
-show an important difference. In the culture of individuals, of course,
-speech long precedes writing, verbal expression being crystallized
-into writing only after a relatively high level of culture has been
-attained. In world culture, on the other hand, writing paved the way
-for verbal intercourse. The reason for this difference lies in the
-fact that speech is a natural product of the direct intercourse of
-individuals who are sharing a common life. Writing, however, is an
-invention by which individuals seek to disseminate and to preserve the
-ideas embodied in speech far beyond the spacial and temporal bounds
-that limit oral communication. Hence, communication in writing is
-the first step from folk culture to world culture. The simplicity of
-the characters which it employs enables it to pass from one people
-to another and from one generation to the next even more readily
-than does the speech of commerce. For though the latter is of a more
-universal character than the many separate mother tongues, it asserts
-itself only with difficulty in competition with them. The history of
-cuneiform writing is especially instructive as regards the point under
-present discussion. The Semitic people, whose migration to Babylonia
-succeeded that of the Sumerians, lost all knowledge of the Sumerian
-language, but they preserved the written texts as sacred. In the course
-of folk migrations, cuneiform writing likewise penetrated to the coast
-regions of Asia Minor, although in this instance it was continually
-used to express new idioms not to be found in the land of its origin.
-Letters have been found representing a correspondence between certain
-Babylonian kings and Egyptian Pharaohs, and dating from the fifteenth
-century before Christ. These letters, called Tel-el-Amarna letters
-after the place of their discovery, are a remarkable testimony to the
-fact that the demands of commerce gradually cause speech to follow in
-the wake of writing, even though the means which the Babylonian employs
-to make his cuneiform writing intelligible indicates that his Egyptian
-correspondent possessed only a slight acquaintance with the Babylonian
-language.
-
-It was not until a much later time that any language of intercourse
-and literature became sufficiently widespread to be called a world
-language, even in that relative sense which attaches to all universal
-terms of this sort. This occurred, in the case of the _Greek_
-language, under the rule of the Diadochi. In this instance, again,
-the first advance in the direction of world culture followed, in the
-main, upon world empire. For, though we must admit that the empire of
-Alexander was of altogether too brief a duration for such a purpose, it
-is nevertheless true that it witnessed only the beginnings of a world
-dominance of Greek language and culture. Taking into account the narrow
-limits of the cultural world of that period of history, there has been
-no age since that of the Diadochi concerning which we would be prepared
-to say that it attained to so widespread a dissemination of a uniform
-culture. The striving beyond a national to a world culture which
-took place at that time was, of course, the fruition of far earlier
-tendencies. The fact that the Greek colonies retained the language and
-customs of the mother country was itself a preparatory step. Following
-the train of colonists were individual travellers, whose desire for
-knowledge led them beyond the regions where the Greek language was
-known. Even in that early day, Pythagoras and Xenophanes, Herodotus and
-Xenophon, Democritus and Plato made extensive travels throughout the
-lands bordering on the Mediterranean. Alexander's expedition to India,
-a country which had up to that time been regarded as a marvellous
-fairyland, marked the culmination of the journeys to remote regions
-which had, at the outset, been undertaken by individuals. Nevertheless,
-the spread of the impulse to wander remains of primary significance for
-the Hellenistic period. The warrior, the tradesman, and the physician
-share this impulse with the scholar and the artist. In the age of
-tribal organization, it was the tribe or clan that travelled to distant
-places, its object being to escape the pressure of want and the need
-threatened by the exhaustion of the hunting-grounds or the soil; in the
-heroic age, it was the people as a whole who left their homes, either
-because they were crowded out by enemies or because they were eager to
-assert their power by establishing cities and States; in the age under
-present consideration, it is the individual who is seized with the
-longing for travel, his purpose being to find elsewhere more favourable
-opportunities for the exercise of his vocation, or, perhaps, to see the
-world, and thus to enlarge his field of experience and his knowledge.
-The large and rapidly growing cities that spring up into centres of
-the new world culture attract the people of all lands, as do also the
-ancient and far-famed seats of intellectual culture. In Alexandria,
-Pergamus, Athens, and, finally, in Rome, there mingle representatives
-of all races--of the Greek, Egyptian, Syrian, Persian, and Italic
-peoples. Greek is the language of common intercourse. Alexandria,
-however, gradually displaces Athens as the chief seat of science. The
-latter comes to be fostered, not by Greeks, but, in large part, by
-individuals of other nationalities, particularly those of the Orient.
-
-This new world culture possesses two distinctive characteristics.
-The first of these consists in a growing indifference to the State
-as such. The second, antithetical to the former and yet most closely
-related to it, is a high appreciation of the individual personality,
-connected with which is a tendency on the part of the individual to
-develop his own personality and to assert his rights. That which the
-public values undergoes a change. The emphasis shifts, on the one
-hand, from the State to a culture which is universally human, and
-thus independent of State boundaries; it passes, on the other hand,
-from political interests, in part, to the individual personality and,
-in part, to universal spiritual development. Thus, world culture is
-at once cosmopolitan and individualistic. As respects both these
-characteristics, however, the interest in humanity finds expression
-in a transcendence of the limits of a single people. Here, again,
-preparatory stages will be found far back in Greek culture. As early
-as the time of the Sophists, individuals, wandering from city to
-city as travelling teachers, proclaim the spirit of personal freedom
-and the dependence of all social institutions and ties upon the will
-of the individual. When we come to the Epicurean and Stoic schools,
-which reach over into the period of early world culture, the idea of
-humanity in both its aspects receives its classic expression, though
-with differing emphases, conditioned by the ethical and religious
-needs as a whole. Similar conditions prevail in the positive sciences.
-In natural science, which reached its first classical development in
-the Alexandrian period, an interest in universal natural laws, as
-discovered in astronomy and mechanics, occurs side by side with an
-absorption in descriptive observations of the most detailed sort.
-History fluctuates between attempts at an abstract schematization
-of the epochs of political development, after the pattern of the
-Aristotelian classification of the forms of the State, and biographical
-accounts of dominating personalities and their deeds. Similarly,
-philology combines the grammatical disputes of the Peripatetic
-and Stoic schools--disputes as yet unfruitful in their abstract
-generalities--with that minute pursuit of literary studies which has
-since given the period the discreditable name of 'Alexandrianism.'
-Art also manifests this _coincidentia oppositorum_. The monumental
-edifices of this epoch exhibit a tendency toward the colossal, whereas
-sculpture is characterized by a painstaking and individualizing art
-of portraiture; the drama portraying the pompous action of ruler and
-State, appears alongside of the play of civic intrigue and the mime.
-
-As the result both of inner dissolution and of the aggression of new
-peoples who were just entering upon their political development,
-Hellenistic world culture underwent disintegration. It first split up
-into Greek and Roman divisions, in correspondence with the partition
-of the Roman world empire and that of the Christian Church connected
-with it. Except the fact of the separation itself, nothing shows more
-significantly how far both divisions were from possessing a world
-culture than does the decline of that indispensable means of common
-culture, language. The West preserved meagre remnants of the Latin
-civilization, the East, fragments of the Greek civilization. In the
-course of the centuries, the clergy of the West developed a class
-of scholars who were out of sympathy with the prevailing tendencies
-toward national culture. In the East, the barbarian nations, which
-the Church barely succeeded in holding together, exercised a benumbing
-influence upon culture; cultural activity, therefore, sank into
-a dull lethargy. The ancient world empires, whose last brilliant
-example, the monarchy of Alexander, had formed the transition to the
-first great world culture, gave place, at this later time, to _world
-religion_. As the result of struggles which, though long, were assured
-of ultimate success, world religion subjected the political powers to
-its authority. Destined, in the belief of peoples, to be imperishable,
-this religion outlived the changing forms of the secular State, and
-was the only remaining vehicle of world culture, fragmentary as this
-may have been. But the inner dissolution to which the last of the
-great world empires, that of Rome, succumbed, overpowered also the
-Church as soon as the latter endeavoured to become a new world State
-and insisted on the duty of believers to render obedience to it. When
-this occurred, the world culture fostered by it necessarily proved too
-weak to assimilate the new tendencies which were beginning to manifest
-themselves. Conditions were ripe for the striving to achieve a new
-culture. In contrast with the ideal of the Church, this culture was
-concerned with the actual world, and therefore felt itself related
-to the cultural idea of antiquity. Thus arose the culture of the
-Renaissance. In it, we again have a world culture in the true sense
-of the word, even though it was shared, at the outset, only by the
-ambitious and the educated, as had, indeed, also essentially been the
-case with its prototype.
-
-The culture of the Renaissance formulated its ideal by reference both
-to the past and to the future. It sought to revive the world culture of
-the Graeco-Roman period, but yet to give to the latter a content suited
-to the spirit of the new age and to the tasks awaiting it. Hence the
-Renaissance was not merely a rebirth, as its name might suggest, but
-a new world culture. Though possessing many traits in common with the
-older culture of Hellenism, it bore, in an even greater measure, its
-own peculiar stamp. The most noteworthy feature common to the two was
-their combination of universalism and individualism--a feature that
-is, perhaps, characteristic of world culture as such. Apparently both
-universalism and individualism become more prominent with the course of
-time. During the period of the Renaissance, the cultivation--one might
-almost say the cult--of the individual personality probably reached
-the highest point that it had as yet attained. The human monster, who
-violated without compunction all laws of propriety and custom, and
-the ascetic zealot, who sacrificed himself for a visionary ideal,
-could both alike arouse admiration because of the uniqueness of their
-characters. Along with this emphasis of individual personality, there
-flourished social ideals of a religious and a political nature. It was
-under this influence that the reformation of the church began its work
-and that new political theories and Utopian accounts of a happy future
-for the human race made their appearance. In still another respect
-does the age of the Renaissance appear to be a genuine revival, in an
-enlarged world, of the Hellenistic period. Again the individual is
-overpowered by the impulse to travel, and, as a consequence, the age of
-great geographical discoveries is inaugurated. The voyages of the great
-discoverers--of Columbus, Vasco da Gama, and Magellan--were the result,
-for the most part, of personal initiative. And, though other motives
-may have lurked in the background, the discoverers themselves were
-chiefly inspired by that desire to wander which, more than a century
-earlier, had led the Venetian Marco Polo to travel alone in the distant
-lands of eastern Asia.
-
-But, in certain essential particulars, the later period of world
-culture possessed a character all its own. The basis of culture was
-no longer a world State, but a world Church. No longer, moreover, was
-there an indifference to the State, as had been so generally the case
-in Hellenistic times. A heightened political interest was everywhere
-beginning to be manifest. That which long continued to give this period
-its unique stamp was the struggle between State and Church. The social
-impulses tended in the direction of a new political order, and to a
-certain extent, even at this time, toward a social reconstruction.
-The world culture of this period, moreover, sustained a completely
-altered relation to language, that universal vehicle both of mental
-life and of the material culture which grows up out of the intercourse
-of peoples. It was not a world language, such as results naturally
-from the authority of a world empire, that constituted the basis of
-the new cultural unity. On the contrary, the latter was dependent
-upon a multiplicity of languages, which gave expression to the mental
-individuality of peoples just as did the national States to the
-diversity of particular political and social interests. The influence
-of more extensive educational activities made itself felt. The forms of
-commerce and of the interchange of the mental products of nations were
-manifold, yet education rendered the means of material and intellectual
-intercourse common property so far as this was possible and necessary.
-Thus, world culture itself acquired a new foundation. A world language
-must of necessity be an active and a living language, and, in view of
-the fact that all social institutions are historically conditioned,
-it can attain its supremacy only through the influence of a world
-empire. Hence every world culture whose basis is a unity of language,
-in the sense of a world language, is doomed to be transitory. Fragments
-of such a culture may survive, but it itself must perish along with
-the language by which it is sustained and, more remotely, with the
-political power by which the language is upheld. All this is changed
-as soon as world culture is established on the basis of a multiplicity
-of national tongues as well as of national States. Then, for the first
-time, may world culture become more than merely an occasional epoch
-of history; thenceforth it may enjoy a permanent development. With
-this in mind, one may say that the period of the Renaissance laid
-the foundation for a new form of world culture, whose characteristic
-feature is that combination of humanistic and national endeavour which
-is still prevalent throughout the civilized world.
-
-
-
-4. WORLD RELIGIONS.
-
-
-One of the most significant marks of the heroic age is the existence of
-national religions. Just as each race possesses its own heroes, so also
-does it have its own gods, who are reverenced as its protectors in wars
-with foreign peoples. True, gods and their cults may occasionally pass
-over from one people to another. Wherever there is an assimilation of
-foreign cults, however, all traces of origin disappear; the gods who
-are taken over from other peoples are added to the company of native
-gods, and enrich the national pantheon. So far as these conditions are
-concerned, world empires bring few changes. At most, they expressly
-subordinate the gods of conquered lands to the god of the ruling city,
-and thus prepare for the idea of an all-comprehensive divine State
-corresponding to the universal terrestrial State. The decisive step in
-the completion of this development is taken only under the influence of
-the world culture that grows up out of the world empire. The special
-national deities that represent the particular interests of individual
-peoples then inevitably recede in favour of gods and cults sustained
-by universal human needs, in which case the cults are, on the whole,
-identical, even though the deities bear different names.
-
-It is of importance to note the motives that led to the first steps
-toward the realization of a universal human religion. They were
-identical with the very earliest incentives to religion, such as
-prevailed among all peoples on the very threshold of the belief in
-demons and gods. For, after the disappearance of political interests,
-to which the national gods owed their supremacy, it was again _two_
-experiences that occupied the foreground--_sickness_ and _death_.
-During the period of Hellenistic world culture, the occupation of the
-physician was held in especial esteem. Connected with this was the
-fact that the cult of Aesculapius, the god of healing, grew from small
-beginnings into a cult whose influence extended over distant lands.
-Even more marked was the increase in the influence of those cults that
-centred about a world after death and the individual's preparation
-for it. The origin of these cults was connected both with the needs of
-this life and with the desire for endless joy in the beyond. In view
-of their identical development, how could it have escaped notice that,
-whatever formal differences there might be, the Grecian Demeter, the
-Phrygian Cybele, and the Phoenician Astarte were alike in nature? Even
-more than was the case with the Greek mysteries, these Oriental cults
-carried over into the cults of the beyond, into which they developed,
-certain ecstatic and orgiastic elements of ancient vegetation cults.
-All the more readily, therefore, were the latter cults incorporated
-into the deity cults, inasmuch as these had as their concern the
-satisfaction of human needs generally. But conditions were ripe for a
-still further advance. As has been suggested, the national and State
-interests which fettered man to the actual world of his environment
-gave way to interests transcending this world. In proportion as this
-occurred, however, did the life of the present, deprived of its former
-values, relinquish all cherished desires in favour of that heavenly
-world possible to all men regardless of class, calling, or nationality.
-This change was antithetical to the innate fear of death, and yet
-was its own final product. All these cults thus became _redemption
-cults_. To be redeemed from the evil of the world--the desire of
-deeper religious minds--or, after the enjoyment of the good things
-of this life, to receive still greater happiness after death--a hope
-doubtless entertained by the majority then as now--such was the primary
-object of the cults of these supranational gods. National cults had
-fashioned the gods in the image of man, even though exalting them with
-all the power of the mythological imagination into the superhuman and
-the unapproachable. At this later period, all efforts were directed
-toward bringing these anthropomorphic gods nearer to man as regards
-the activities in which they engaged, and particularly as regards the
-experiences which they underwent. No figure in the later Greek pantheon
-better lent itself to such a purpose than did Dionysos. Like the female
-deities representing Mother Earth, this male deity originated in the
-ancient field and fertility cults. Later, however, he became more and
-more transformed by legend into the ideal of a striving and suffering
-deity, who, after a horrible death, arose to new glory. Related
-to Dionysos were other deities who likewise became supreme in the
-Hellenistic age--Mithra, Attis, Osiris, and Serapis. All of these were
-gods who had been redeemed from pain and anguish, and were therefore
-capable, in their sympathy, of redeeming man.
-
-In its beginnings, Christianity also was one of these religions of
-redemption. Over five hundred years before its rise, moreover, there
-had already appeared in the Far East a religion in which the same
-thought occupied the foreground. I refer to Buddhism. With reference
-to the steps by which Buddhism attained its supremacy, our only data
-are the controversies of the philosophical schools that participated in
-the development. These controversies make it probable that the basal
-motives involved were similar to those that were later operative in the
-cultural world of the Occident. There were also essential differences,
-however, traceable to the fact that the various Brahmanic systems had
-a common religious substratum, and that Hindoo thought had attained
-to a fairly advanced stage of philosophical development. One fact is
-doubtless universal--the appearance of a redemptive religion marks the
-decadence of an old and the rise of a new period of culture. Beginning
-with the Hellenistic period, therefore, and continuing with increased
-strength during the Roman world empire, there was a transition from a
-national to a humanistic culture. World religion was a more decisive
-indication of this crisis than were any of the other elements of
-world culture, or than was even world empire, which prepared the way
-for world culture. The old gods could no longer satisfy the new age,
-unless, at any rate, they underwent marked transformations. The age
-required new gods, in whom national traits were secondary, as they were
-in life itself, and universal human characteristics were supreme. It
-was particularly the unique worth of the individual human personality,
-without regard to birth, class, and occupation, which this period
-of transition from the national to the humanistic ideal emphasized.
-Hence the obstacles which the surrounding world placed in the way of
-personal endeavour were inevitably felt the more deeply in proportion
-as the values of the narrower community life disappeared. A change in
-mood took place within the consciousness of the age, as it so often
-does within that of the individual, and this change was enhanced by
-the contrast of emotions. The world lost the values which it had thus
-far held, and became a place of evil and suffering. In contrast with
-it, there loomed up a yonder world in which the desired ideals were
-believed to meet fulfilment. This mood, of course, did not continue
-permanently. World religion was of inner necessity forced to adapt
-itself to the earthly life in proportion as State and society again
-acquired a more fixed organization. But, just as the strata of the
-earth's crust retain the effects of a geological catastrophe long after
-it has passed, so spiritual life continues to exhibit the influence of
-upheavals that have occurred in the transitions from age to age, even
-though the spiritual values themselves have undergone many changes. In
-this respect, world religion manifests a conserving power greater than
-that of any other product of mental life.
-
-There are only _two_ world religions, in the strictest sense of the
-term, _Buddhism_ and _Christianity_. Confucianism, which might perhaps
-be included so far as the number of its adherents is concerned, is a
-system of ethical teachings rather than a religion. Hence, when we take
-into account the vast number of Chinese peoples, Confucianism will be
-found to embody a great number of different religious developments,
-the most important of which are the ancient ancestor cult and
-Buddhism, the latter of which penetrated into China from elsewhere.
-The faith of Islam is a combination of Jewish and Christian ideas with
-ancient Arabian and Turanian traditions. As such, it has brilliantly
-fulfilled the mission of bringing a cultural religion to barbarian
-or semi-barbarian peoples, but it cannot be credited with being an
-original religious creation. Judaism finally formed a supremely
-important element of Christianity, one whose influence would appear
-to have been absolutely indispensable. In itself, however, it is not a
-world religion, but is one of those vanquished cults which struggled
-for supremacy in the pre-Constantinian period of the Roman world empire.
-
-But what, let us ask, were the powerful forces that gave these two
-great world religions their supremacy? Surely it was not merely their
-inner superiority, though this be in no way disputed. Nor was it simply
-propitious external circumstances, such, for example, as the fact that
-Constantine made Christianity the State religion. Doubtless there were
-a great number of co-operating factors, foremost among them being the
-desire for a purely humanistic religion, independent of nationality
-or external position in life. And yet this also could not have been
-of decisive significance--precisely such a longing was more or less
-characteristic of all the religious tendencies of this transitional
-period. Moreover, this leaves unexplained the peculiarities of each
-of the two great world religions. These are in complete accord as
-regards their universal, humanistic tendency, but are just as different
-in content as is a Buddhistic pagoda from a Gothic cathedral. As a
-matter of fact, these world religions are also cultural religions.
-Back of each of them is a rich culture, with characteristics peculiar
-to itself, even though its basal elements are universally human. Hence
-it is that these two world religions are not merely expressions of a
-striving for a universally valid religious and moral ideal, in the
-sense in which such a striving is common to mankind as a whole; it
-should rather be emphasized that they reflect the essentially different
-forms which this striving has assumed within humanity. Buddhism, in
-its fundamental views, represents the highest expression to which the
-religious feeling of the Orient has attained, while Christianity, as
-a result of the conditions which determined its spread, has become
-the embodiment of the religious thought of the Occidental world. To
-appreciate this fact we must not allow our minds to be diverted to
-the tangled profusion of beliefs in magic and demons which Buddhism
-exhibits, nor to the traditional and, in part, ambiguous sayings of
-the great ascetic himself. If we would discover the parallels between
-Buddhism and Christianity, we must hold ourselves primarily to the
-ideas that have remained potent within the religion of Buddha. True,
-the worlds which these religions disclose to our view differ, yet in
-neither case had religious feeling up to that time received so exalted
-an expression. In Buddhism, as in original Christianity, human life
-is regarded as a suffering, and this underlies both the irresistible
-impulse to asceticism and repentance, and the hope for unclouded bliss
-in the future. The Christian of the primitive church looks forward to
-the speedy return of Christ, and to His inauguration of an eternal,
-heavenly kingdom. In contrast with this, it is as a prolonged migration
-through animal bodies, alternating with rebirth in human form, that the
-Hindoo thinker conceives that great process of purification by means of
-which sense is finally to be entirely overcome and man is to partake
-of an undimmed knowledge of the truth, and, with this, of supreme and
-never-ending bliss. This is the true Nirvana of Buddha. Nirvana does
-not represent the nothingness of eternal oblivion, but an eternal
-rest of the soul in pure knowledge, a peace which puts an end to all
-striving, just as does the heaven for which the Christian hopes. The
-difference between Nirvana and the Christian heaven is merely that, in
-the one case, the emphasis falls on knowledge, whereas, in the other,
-it is placed on feeling. This distinction, however, is not absolute.
-Buddha, also, preaches love of one's neighbour--indeed, sympathy
-with every suffering creature; and the Christian, as well as the
-Buddhist, seeks the knowledge of God. Moreover, ideas of purification
-are necessarily involved in redemptive religions, and hence are to be
-found in Christianity no less than in the world religion of the Orient,
-though in a different form. The Occidental Christian, swayed by his
-prompter emotions, images in the most vivid colours the agonies of
-the damned and the purification of the sinners in need of redemption.
-The patient and peace-seeking Oriental entertains the conception of
-a prolonged suffering that leads gradually, through the light of
-knowledge, from the debasement of animal existence to a state of
-redemption.
-
-A further feature which differentiates these kindred religious
-developments is their relation to the contemporary philosophy which
-affected them. Buddhism grew out of philosophy, and then became a folk
-religion. In its spread, it became transformed from an esoteric into
-an exoteric teaching, continually absorbing older elements of folk
-belief. Its ethical basis never entirely disappeared, yet it became
-more and more obscured by a multitude of miracle-legends and magical
-ideas. Christianity, on the other hand, began as a folk religion and,
-in so far, as an exoteric teaching. But, in entering into the strife
-of religions and into the controversies of the thought-systems of the
-Hellenistic-Roman period, Christianity passed under the control of
-philosophy. Precisely because it lay outside the realm of philosophy,
-it was subjected to the influence of the various schools, though it
-was most decisively affected by Platonism and Stoicism. Inasmuch as
-philosophy itself had its setting in a superstitious age, it was the
-less able to purify Christianity from the belief in demons, miracles,
-and magic which the latter, as a folk religion, embodied from the very
-outset. Nevertheless, philosophical thought supplemented the real
-meaning of religious statements with an idealized interpretation.
-This gave birth to dogma, which consisted of a peculiar combination
-of esoteric and exoteric elements, and for this very reason assumed
-a mystical character. Hence it is that Buddhism, which sprang from
-philosophy, never possessed any real dogmas in the sense of binding
-norms of faith, whereas Christianity, which originated as a folk
-religion, fell a prey in its dogmatization to a theology which
-prescribed the content of belief.
-
-These two world religions, which dominate the main centres of spiritual
-culture, do not, surely, owe their supremacy over other religious cults
-to the external conditions of their origin. Indeed, these conditions
-differ in the two cases. To account for the pre-eminence of the two
-religions we must look to the religious and moral nucleus which they
-possess in the sayings and teachings as well, also, as in the ideal
-lives of their founders. In spite of all differences, there is a
-similarity of character between the prince who wandered about as a
-beggar, preaching to the peoples the salvation which pure knowledge
-brings to him who renounces all external goods of life, and the man
-of the common people who pronounced blessings on the poor and the
-suffering because they are prepared above others to find the way to
-heaven. Another remarkable coincidence is the fact that the religious
-communities which they inspired sought to deprive them of the very
-characteristic which opens human hearts to them; they were real persons
-who lived and to whose deeds and sufferings their contemporaries bore
-testimony. What, as compared with them, are the redeeming gods in the
-pantheon of the various nations--Dionysos, Mithra, Osiris, or even
-Serapis, whose worship was established by the Ptolemies under the
-driving power of ideas of extensive political authority? The need of a
-living god whose existence was historically attested led irresistibly
-to the elevation of the man into a god. Thus, though in an entirely
-different world-setting and with a completely changed hero-personality,
-the process through which deities were created at the beginning of
-the heroic age was repeated. At this later period, however, it was
-not the universal type of idealized manhood that was regarded as the
-incarnate deity, but a single ideal personality. This purely human
-deity was no longer bound by national ties; he was not a guardian of
-the State and a helper in strife with other peoples, but a god of
-mankind. For every individual he was both an ideal and a helper, a
-saviour from the imperfections and limitations of earthly life. With
-this process of deification, the religions whose central object of cult
-was the suffering individual who secures for himself and for mankind
-redemption from suffering, opened their doors also to the gods and
-demons of earlier ages. Thus, there penetrated into Buddhism the Hindoo
-pantheon, together with the beliefs in magic and spirits which were
-entertained by the peoples converted to Buddhism. The Christian Church
-did not finally supersede the earlier heathen folk belief until it had
-assimilated the latter in the conceptions of demons and the devil, in
-the cult of saints, and in the worship of relics, the last-mentioned of
-which also constituted an important element of Buddhism.
-
-In the case of Christianity, there was still another factor which
-prepared the soil for the new religion. This factor was due either to
-a direct transference or, as is probable so far as the main outlines
-of the history of the passion are concerned, to the real similarity
-of this event with the legends, prevalent in all parts of the earth,
-of the death and resurrection of a deity. Such legends everywhere
-grew up out of vegetation cults, which date back to the beginnings
-of agriculture. The hopes centred about a world beyond caused the
-cults based on these ideas to incorporate the soul cults. The latter
-then displaced the original motives of vegetation cults. In this
-way, higher forms of soul cult were developed, as exemplified by the
-ancient mysteries and by the related secret cults of other peoples.
-The exclusive aim now came to be the attainment of salvation from the
-earthly into a heavenly world. It was thought that this goal would be
-the more certain of attainment if, yielding to the old association of
-the mystical and secret with the magical and miraculous, the circle of
-initiated cult companions were narrowly limited. But how different is
-the form which this very ancient legend of a god who suffers, dies, and
-rises again assumes in the suffering and death of Christ! Jesus was
-a real person, whose death on the cross many had witnessed and whose
-resurrection his disciples had reported. Moreover, the cult of this
-crucified Saviour was not enveloped in a veil of secrecy. The redeeming
-god did not wish to win heaven merely for a few who had gained the
-privilege through magical ceremonies. The Christian heaven was open
-to all, to rich and poor, though especially to the poor, who were to
-receive in the beyond a rich compensation for the good things denied
-them upon earth. It is but natural that this new cult, with its vastly
-deeper and more vital significance, and with the strength which it
-nevertheless continued to draw from the old traditional legends, won
-for itself the allegiance of the new world with its strivings for a
-greater security in life as in death. Even some of the Roman soldiers,
-coming from their Saturnalian or Sacaean festivals, may, perhaps, have
-felt strangely moved upon seeing re-enacted, as a terrible reality,
-that which in their country was a playful custom, representing a
-survival of a once serious cult and ending in the mimic death of the
-carnival king. It was obviously in recollection of these very prevalent
-festivals that the coarser members of the crowd gave to him who was
-crucified the name "King of the Jews." The appellation was exactly
-suited to heighten the contrast between the joyous tumult of such mimic
-cults and this murderous reality.
-
-The above scene was prophetic of the entire subsequent development of
-the new religion. That Christianity became a world religion was not
-due merely to the depth and sublimity of its spirit--these were hidden
-under a cover of mythological elements, from which Christianity was
-not free any more than were other religions. Christianity gained its
-supremacy, just as did Buddhism, in its own way, through a capacity to
-assimilate auxiliary mythological conceptions to an extent scarcely
-equalled by any of the previous religions. The very fact that the
-latter were national religions precluded them, to a certain extent,
-from incorporating alien ideas. It was not only mediaeval Christianity
-that took over a large part of the earlier belief of heathen peoples.
-Even present-day Christianity might doubtless be called a world
-religion in this sense, among others, that, in the various forms of
-its beliefs and professions, it includes within itself, side by side,
-the most diverse stages of religious development, from a monotheism
-free from all mythological elements down to a motley collection of
-polytheistic beliefs, including survivals of primitive ideas of magic
-and demons.
-
-But there is another phenomenon in which the spirit of Christianity
-comes to expression even more significantly than in its capacity to
-adapt itself to the most diverse stages of religious development. Here,
-again, there is a similarity between Christianity and the other great
-world religion, Buddhism. The belief of Hindoo antiquity in a populous
-heaven of gods was very early displaced, in the priestly wisdom of
-India, by the idea of "the eternal, unchangeable" Brahma. We here
-have an abstract deity-idea from which every trace of personality has
-disappeared. It was under the influence of this priestly philosophy
-that Buddha grew up, and his esoteric teaching, therefore, did not
-include a belief in a personal deity. Meanwhile, the ancient gods had
-continued to maintain their place in popular belief, though their
-original character was obscured by rankly flourishing ideas of magic
-and demons. This state of affairs was due to the fact that there was
-no longer a supreme deity who could give to mythology a religious
-basis. In the religious movement which began with Buddha, however, the
-latter himself came to be a supreme deity of this sort, the old nature
-gods and magic demons becoming subservient to him. The god-idea had
-been etherealized into the abstract idea of a superpersonal being,
-but its place was taken by the human individual exalted into a deity.
-Christianity underwent the same crucial changes, though in a different
-manner. In the philosophy of the Greeks, the personal deity of popular
-belief had been displaced by a superpersonal being. Plato's "idea
-of the good," the Aristotelian _Nous_, which, as pure form, holds
-sway beyond the boundaries of the world, even the Stoic Zeus as the
-representative of the teleological character of the world order, and,
-finally, the gods of Epicurus, conceived as indefinite forms dwelling
-in nebulous regions and unconcerned with the world--all manifest the
-same tendency either to elevate the personal deities of the heroic age
-into superpersonal beings, or, as was essentially done by Epicurus, to
-retransform them into subpersonal, demon-like beings. In contrast with
-this tendency, Jesus, as the representative of a religious folk belief,
-holds fast to the god of ancient tradition, as developed in the Jahve
-religion of the Israelites. Indeed, it is in the conception of Jesus
-that this god receives his deepest and most personal expression,
-inasmuch as he is conceived as a god of love, to whom man stands in the
-relation of son to father. This conception of the relation of God to
-man Christianity sought to retain. But history is not in accord with
-this traditional view. Cult and dogma alike testify that in this case
-also the deity came to be superpersonal from an early period on. To
-cult, which is always concerned with personal gods, Christ became the
-supreme deity; in the Catholic Church, there came to be also a large
-number of secondary and subsidiary gods, who sometimes even crowded the
-Christ into the background, as is exemplified particularly by the cult
-of the Virgin Mary. Dogma, on its part, cannot conceal the fact that
-it originated in philosophy, which is destructive of personal gods.
-For dogma ascribes attributes to the deity that are irreconcilable
-with the concept of personality. The deity is represented as eternal,
-omnipotent, all-good, omnipresent--in short, as infinite in all
-attributes that are held to express his nature. The conception of the
-infinite, however, contradicts that of personality, for the latter
-demands a character that possesses sharply defined attributes. However
-comprehensive our conception of personality may be, limitation is
-necessarily implied; the concept loses its meaning when associated
-with the limitless and the infinite. Even though dogma may continue
-to maintain that belief in a personal God is fundamental to Christian
-faith, such a belief is nevertheless self-contradictory; the union of
-the ideas 'personal' and 'god' must be understood as a survival within
-the era of world religions, where many such survivals occur, of the
-god-idea developed by national religions.
-
-The truth is that the transformation of the personal god into a
-superpersonal deity is probably the most important mark of world
-religion. National religion displaced the subpersonal demon in favour
-of the personal god; in world religion, the personal god is exalted
-into a superpersonal deity. At this point there is a very close
-connection between world religion and world culture. As the idea that
-the universe is bounded by a sphere of fixed stars must give way to
-the conception of the infinitude of the universe, so also does world
-culture transcend the limits imposed upon it by the preparatory world
-empire, whose own origin was the State. World Culture, as we have
-seen, comes to signify a cultural unity of mankind, such as includes
-the national States. Similarly, world religion strives toward the idea
-of a deity who is superpersonal, and who, though only in so far as he
-is superpersonal, transcends the world of experience. The foundations
-of this concluding stage in the development of religion had long been
-laid by philosophy. In religion itself, the culmination was actually
-attained with the recedence of the deity in cult; in theology, it
-came with the ascription to the deity of attributes of absoluteness
-and infinitude, even though the deity-conception did not clearly
-emerge from a mystic incomprehensibility rendered inevitable by the
-combination of contradictory ideas.
-
-Though the transition from a personal god to a superpersonal deity
-is the decisive characteristic that marks a world religion, there
-is closely connected with it a second distinctive feature. In
-Christianity, indeed, it was the latter that prepared the way for the
-idea of the non-personal character of God. The fact to which I refer
-is that, in addition to the non-personal deity, there is believed to
-be a personal god in the form of an exalted human individual. Cult
-continues to require a personal being to whom man may come with his
-needs and desires. And by whom could his trouble be better understood
-than by a deity who himself lived and suffered as a man? In Buddhism,
-therefore, as well as in Christianity, the god-man became the personal
-representative of the non-personal deity, not as the result of any
-external transference, but in consequence of the same inner need. The
-god-man is a representative in more than one respect. Cult honours him
-as the deity who dwelt upon earth in human form, and who represents the
-godhead; it turns to him also as the human individual who represents
-mankind before God. Back of these two ideas of representativeness
-that dominate belief and cult, there is still a further, though an
-unrecognized, need for a representative. The religious nature requires
-that there shall be a personal god as the representative of him who has
-been exalted into a non-personal deity and has become inaccessible. The
-infinite god posited by the religious intellect is unable to satisfy
-the religious nature that is pressed by the cares and sufferings of
-finitude. Herewith the way is opened for a development whose course
-is determined by the changing relations into which the two aspects of
-the concept 'god-man' enter with one another. On the first stage, the
-divine aspect of the god-man overshadows the human character. At this
-period, it might appear as though world religion merely substituted a
-new god for the older gods. Though the superpersonal deity receives
-recognition in dogma, and the development, therefore, marks an
-important religious advance over the age of gods, the cult is directed
-to the person of the god-man. Then comes a second stage, in which
-the human aspect of the concept 'god-man' occupies the foreground.
-The god-man becomes an ideal human being who succours man in the
-afflictions of his soul, but who does so not so much by his divine
-power as by the example of human perfection which he represents. At
-the third stage, the god-man finally comes to be regarded as in every
-respect a man. It is recognized that, through the religious movement
-which bears his name, he indeed prepared the way for the idea that
-the deity is a non-personal source of being, exalted above all that
-is transitory. Nevertheless, the god-man is conceived as an ideal man
-only in the sense in which one may speak of any ideal as actual. Hence,
-the world religion derives its name from him not so much because of
-what he himself was as because of that which he created. From this
-point of view, it is eventually immaterial even whether or not Jesus
-or Buddha ever lived. The question becomes one of historical fact, not
-one of religious necessity. Jesus and Buddha live on in their religious
-creations. That these creations, to say nothing of any other proofs,
-point back to powerful religious personalities, the unbiased will
-regard as certain, though from this third point of view the question is
-of subordinate importance.
-
-A world religion may lay claim to being such not merely on account of
-its wide acceptance, but also because of its ability to incorporate
-the elements of other religions. In a similar manner, and more
-particularly, a world religion is one that includes within itself
-elements representing past stages of its own development. Historically
-considered, religious elements are juxtaposed in such a manner that
-the religious life of the past is mirrored in the present. Hence
-the religion can at no time emancipate itself from its historical
-development. It is just as impossible to return to the religious
-notions of earlier times as it is to transform ourselves into the
-contemporaries of Charlemagne or even of Frederick the Great. The
-past never returns. Nevertheless, it is universally characteristic of
-mental development, particularly within the sphere of religion, that
-the new not only continues to be affected by the old, but that the more
-advanced stages of culture actually embody many elements of the past.
-That these be permitted to exist side by side with higher conceptions,
-and that there be no limiting external barriers in either direction, is
-all the more demanded by world religion inasmuch as the independence of
-State and society, which its very nature implies, presupposes, first of
-all, the freedom of personal belief.
-
-Inasmuch as it possesses a universal human significance, religion
-cannot escape the change to which everything human is subject. This
-appears most strikingly in the undeniable fact that the fundamental
-idea of the two great world religions, Buddhism and Christianity,
-has in both cases changed. I refer to the idea of _salvation_.
-We do not, of course, mean to deny that an individual may either
-permanently or temporarily return to the religious ideas of the past
-with a fervour which again reinstates in him impulses that have long
-since disappeared. Nevertheless, the present-day idea of salvation
-is no longer identical with that which animated the primitive
-Christian Church when it looked forward to the return of its Saviour.
-Christianity is a religion of humanity. Precisely for this reason,
-it, in every age, took up into itself the feelings and aspirations
-representing the ideal spiritual forces of that age. All that was
-permanent in the midst of this change was really the religious impulse
-as such, the feeling that the world of sense belongs to an ideal
-supersensuous order--a feeling for which world religion seeks external
-corroboration in the development of religion itself. In distinction
-from national religions, which sprang from an infinitely large number
-of sources, a world religion requires a personal founder. To this
-personality is due also the direction of the further development of the
-religion. Thus, the final and most important characteristic of world
-religion is the fact that it is pre-eminently an _historical_ religion.
-It is historical both in that it has an historical origin, and in that
-it is constantly subject to the flux of historical development.
-
-
-
-5. WORLD HISTORY.
-
-
-The meaning attached to the term 'world history' clearly shows how
-firmly rooted is the anthropocentric view of the world in connection
-with those matters that are of deepest concern to man. World history
-is regarded as the history of mankind--indeed, in a still narrower
-sense, as, in the last analysis, the mental history of mankind. If
-facts of any other sort are taken into account, this is not because
-they are an essential part of the subject-matter, but because they
-represent external conditions of historical events. The justifiability
-of this point of view may scarcely be disputed. If the purpose of all
-historical knowledge is to understand the present condition of mankind
-in the light of its past, and, in so far as we also attribute to this
-knowledge a practical value, to indicate the probable course of the
-future, then the history of mind is the immediate source of historical
-knowledge. If this be true, it follows that the essential content
-of history consists in those events which spring from the psychical
-motives of human conduct. Moreover, it is the nexus and change of
-motives underlying such conduct that lends to events the inner
-continuity which is universally demanded of history.
-
-But the very meaning which is universally associated with the term
-'world history' itself includes _two_ very different conceptions. For,
-even when the field of history is limited to the events connected
-with mankind, as those which are of greatest importance to us, there
-remains a further question. Is history to deal with the _whole_ of
-mankind, or is it to be restricted merely to those peoples that have
-in any way affected the course of the mental history of humanity? As
-is well known, most of the works on world history have been confined
-to the more restricted field. For them, world history is an account
-of cultural peoples, whose activities are shown by a continuous
-tradition and by existing monuments to form a relatively connected
-whole. But there have also been more comprehensive works, which have
-felt it necessary to include at least those cultural and semi-cultural
-peoples who attained to some independent mental development, as did the
-peoples of the New World prior to the time of Columbus. Back of this
-uncertainty arising from the ambiguity of the concept 'mankind' lies
-a deeper-going confusion due to the no less ambiguous meaning of the
-concept 'history.' However much we may associate the word 'history'
-primarily with the traditional limits of historical science, we may
-not entirely put aside the broader meaning, according to which it
-includes everything which may at all be brought into a connected order
-of events. For we also speak of a history of the earth, of the solar
-system, of an animal or a plant species, etc. Now, with this wider
-connotation of the idea in mind, we cannot fail to recognize that the
-conditions that still prevail among certain races, and that doubtless
-at one time prevailed among all, are such that, while they would not
-concern historical science in its more restricted and familiar sense,
-they would demand consideration if the term were taken in its broader
-meaning. From the latter point of view, the condition of a primitive
-people of nature is no less a product of history than is the political
-and cultural condition of present-day Europe. But there is nevertheless
-a radical difference between the two cases. The historically
-trained European understands, to a fairly great extent, the external
-circumstances that have led to present conditions. He is conscious
-not merely of the present but also of its preceding history, and he
-therefore looks forward to the future with the expectation of further
-historical changes. The man of nature knows only the present. Of the
-past he possesses merely fragmentary elements, legendary in character,
-and much altered by the embellishments of a myth-creating imagination;
-his provision for the future scarcely extends beyond the coming day.
-Hence, we should scarcely be justified in unqualifiedly calling
-peoples of nature 'peoples without a history.' In the broader sense
-of the term, they have a history, as well as have the solar system,
-the earth, the animal, and the plant. But they lack a history in the
-narrower sense, according to which historical science includes among
-'historical' peoples only such as have had some special significance
-in the development of mental culture. That even this limitation is
-variable and uncertain need scarcely be mentioned. The past shows
-us many instances in which hordes that were previously unknown, and
-were thus, in the ordinary meaning of the term, peoples without a
-history, suddenly stepped into the arena of the cultured world and
-its history. The colonial history of the present, moreover, shows
-that the characteristics and the past development of races occupying
-regions of the earth newly opened to cultural peoples, have not been,
-and are not, without influence upon the course of history. It should
-also be remembered that between an historical tradition comprehending
-the entire cultural world and recollection limited to the immediate
-past, there are a great number of intermediate stages. These stages
-are dependent primarily upon the forms of social organization, though
-also upon other cultural factors. Peoples that have failed to advance
-beyond a tribal organization may frequently have traversed wide regions
-of the earth and yet have preserved at most certain legendary elements
-of the history of these migrations, although retaining myths, cults,
-and customs indefinitely. On the other hand, wherever a national State
-has arisen, there has developed also a national tradition, intermingled
-with which, of course, there have long continued to be mythological
-and legendary elements. But the tradition, even in this case, relates
-exclusively to the particular people who entertain it. Strange races
-are as yet touched upon only in so far as they have directly affected
-the interests of those who preserve the tradition. Indeed, such races
-continue to have but an inconspicuous place in tradition until the
-establishment of world empires and of the partly anticipatory colonial
-and trade interrelation of peoples. Hence it is not until the rise of
-world empires that we find the transition to world history in the sense
-in which the term is most commonly employed to-day. In so far as world
-history involves a transcendence of the history of a single people but
-nevertheless a limitation to the circle of cultural peoples who are
-more or less generally interrelated, it is a direct product of world
-culture. Such a history includes all peoples who participate in world
-culture and excludes all those who have no share in it.
-
-Considered from a psychological point of view, the different meanings
-of the concept 'history' in its relation to the various stages of
-mental culture, clearly show a fluctuation between _two_ ideas which,
-though opposite, nevertheless mutually imply each other. On the one
-hand, there is the purely objective conception of history. History, in
-this case, is regarded as a course of events of such a nature that the
-specific occurrences may be brought by an external observer into an
-orderly sequence of conditions and results. On the other hand, history
-has been conceived as a course of events, which not only exhibits an
-orderly sequence from an objective point of view, but which is also
-_subjectively experienced_ as a nexus by the individuals concerned. In
-the one case, history is a reconstruction, on the basis of external
-observation, of the inner connection of phenomena; in the other, it is
-the conscious experience of the latter connection. Mankind exemplifies
-all possible transitional stages between these two extremes--history
-as merely objectively given, and as experienced both objectively and
-subjectively. Indeed, it is even true to say that, as a matter of fact,
-none but such transitional stages actually occur. Even the horizon
-of primitive man includes a narrow circle of consciously experienced
-history. On the other hand, man is ever far from attaining to a
-self-conscious grasp of his own history in its entirety. Thus, that
-which is in a high degree characteristic of world religion is true
-also of world history. Within the conscious horizon of each individual
-very different levels of historical consciousness are represented,
-even in the case of the cultural peoples who participate more or less
-actively in the course of world history. Here, as in world religion, we
-find that what was developed in a sequence during the course of ages
-continues to remain, at any rate roughly speaking, in juxtaposition.
-Moreover, even apart from this, we never survey more than a segment
-of the entire nexus of historical factors. One of the most important
-tasks of the historian consists in tracing the chain of events back to
-motives which are, in part, inaccessible to superficial observation,
-and, in part, indeed, remain of a problematical nature even when we
-believe that, through inference, we have gained an approximately true
-conception of them. Nevertheless, it is not necessary that immediate
-knowledge be complete in order that there may be a consciously
-experienced nexus of events such as is demanded for the content of
-history proper. It is merely necessary that some interconnection be
-actually experienced and that its relations be directly apprehended.
-This knowledge, moreover, must possess sufficient power to influence
-decisively the actual course of events.
-
-This narrower conception of history brings historical events into
-relation with the human _will_. The will is really a phase of
-conscious experience. It is necessary, however, to single it out for
-special discussion, because of the fact that popular opinion either
-regards it as the exclusive factor in history or else stresses it
-so one-sidedly that the causal view, required in principle even
-for individual consciousness, threatens to vanish entirely from
-the conception of historical life. Naturally, the will does not
-become an influence definitely affecting the course of events until
-individuals have become consciously aware of the interconnectedness
-of historical life. Whenever, therefore, an exaggerated importance
-is attached to the function of volition, the conscious intervention
-of individual personalities in the course of events readily comes to
-appear as the decisive feature that distinguishes the historical from
-the prehistorical stages of human development. But this is erroneous
-in both its implications. Even the life of primitive peoples of
-nature is not entirely unaffected by individual personalities, whose
-influence may be more or less permanently operative even after they
-themselves have been forgotten. On the other hand, the will acts of
-individuals constitute but one factor among the many which determine
-historical life. Moreover, inasmuch as every particular volition
-is conditioned by motives inherent in the general constitution of
-individual consciousness, it is subject to the same psychical causality
-that dominates human consciousness in general. The criterion for
-differentiating historic from prehistoric existence, therefore, is
-not the influence of a personal will upon the life of the group, but
-rather the fact that the conscious experience of historical continuity
-includes a recognition of the effect of individual personalities upon
-the destinies of peoples. The advance to such an insight is inaugurated
-by world empires, in which the vicissitudes of peoples first begin to
-form a unified history; it reaches its completion in world culture,
-which creates a common mental heritage for mankind, and thus engenders
-the consciousness of a universal community.
-
-Of the various elements of world culture that give impetus to this
-development, the _world religions_ occupy the foremost place. In extent
-and permanence they surpass not only the world empires but also all
-other forms of material and spiritual interchange between peoples.
-However much the traditions associated with world religions may be
-interwoven with mythological and legendary elements, they nevertheless
-constitute a bond whose primary effect is to arouse among peoples
-who may otherwise be widely different in culture and history, the
-idea of a universal human community. The peoples of Eastern Asia,
-for example, though exhibiting marked political differences, were
-united by Buddhism into a community of religious thought, in which
-they became conscious that, in spite of differences of race and of
-history, they possessed a similar religious and ethical temper. If we
-compare the Brahmanic doctrines with the sayings of such teachers as
-Confucius and Lao-tsze, we are struck particularly by the similarity
-of ethical trend as well as by the divergence of this trend from that
-of Occidental thought. In its idea of a community of faith, Islamism
-likewise brought the consciousness of unity to numerous peoples of
-barbaric culture--to a more limited extent than Buddhism, it is true,
-but for this reason all the more forcefully. Of Christianity, it is
-even more true that, from the very beginning, it took as its guiding
-principle the belief that in the eyes of God there is no distinction
-either of race or of class and occupation. Hence it has regarded
-missionary activity among heathen peoples as a task whose purpose it
-is finally to unite the whole of mankind beneath the cross of Christ.
-Thus, world religion destroyed the barriers erected by the preceding
-national religions, and took as its aim the unification of men and
-races into an all-embracing community. To the adherent of a national
-religion, the race that believed in a different god was strange and
-hostile; both characteristics, strangeness and hostility, were included
-by the Greek in the term 'barbarian.' The Christian speaks of heathen
-who have not as yet beheld the light of pure truth, but for him there
-are no barbarians. The god to whom the Christian prays likewise rules
-the heathen world, and to the heathen, also, the gospel is preached.
-True, we find a recurring limitation in that it is only the Christian
-who is a brother to Christians. Nevertheless, it is prophesied of the
-heathen that they will at one time be received into the brotherhood of
-the disciples of Christ. At the end of time, there is to be but _one_
-shepherd and _one_ flock upon earth. Thus, in the missionary activity
-which the Christian recognizes as his calling, the assertion, All men
-are brothers, is based on the two ideas, All Christians are brothers,
-and All men are destined to become Christians.
-
-It was on the basis of the Christian tradition that science first
-attempted to treat history, not as the history of a single people or,
-at best, as a number of histories of successive or contemporaneous
-races and States, but as true world history. At the outset, world
-history was objective in character. The underlying thought was that the
-whole of mankind was controlled by a single idea which governed all
-events, and that the task of humanity consisted in carrying this idea
-into realization. Augustine's _Civitas Dei_ was the first attempt at a
-world history based on the idea of the religious vocation of mankind.
-That this exposition is limited to the legendary history of the
-Israelitic people, supplemented by the history of Jesus as transmitted
-in the Gospels, and by the Apocalyptic prophecies of a future world,
-should not cause surprise. The limitation is due to the fact that the
-idea of humanity is considered solely from the religious point of
-view. The Church, as the institution about which religion centres, is
-glorified by Augustine's work as the divine State. The adoption of this
-religious viewpoint causes the history of mankind to appear as record,
-not of human experiences that come as a result of human striving and
-activity, but of events that are from the very beginning divinely
-foreordained.
-
-Nevertheless, Augustine's remarkable work long continued to determine
-the general direction of conceptions relating to the history of
-mankind. Up to the eighteenth century, _religious_ development was
-regarded as establishing the only connection between the various
-periods of history. The sole exception to this occurred in the case of
-Giambattista Vico. In his _New Science_ (1725), Vico sought to combine
-the development of language and of jurisprudence with that of religion.
-True, the question regarding the origin of the State and the causes
-of changes in constitutions had concerned men from the time of the
-early Sophists on. Particularly during the Hellenistic period and at
-the time of the Renaissance, such inquiries were of focal interest, as
-a result of the great political changes that were then taking place.
-Yet, whenever the underlying laws of such changes were sought, it was
-the _single_ State that formed the basis of investigation; by comparing
-its vicissitudes with those of other States, the attempt was made
-to arrive at a general law along some such line as the Aristotelian
-classification of States into monarchies, aristocracies, democracies,
-etc. There was hardly ever a suggestion that the historical sequence
-of civilizations and of States was a connected process intelligible
-in causal or teleological terms. Religion alone was conceived as a
-phenomenon which was, on the one hand, independent of the limits of a
-single people, and yet, on the other, subject, in its development, to
-law. The idea that Christianity was destined to be a world religion,
-together with the fact that it had originated historically and had
-spread widely, did not admit of any other interpretation. Within this
-Christian circle of ideas, moreover, the historical development and
-growth of religion were, quite naturally, brought into connection with
-the world beyond, in which the development was thought to await its
-completion. The religious philosophy of history thus terminated in a
-prophecy whose culmination was the final triumph of Christianity. The
-Age of Enlightenment, after effecting a unification of Christianity
-with the religion of reason, again made the world of historical
-experience the scene of triumph. This triumph was held to consist in
-the ultimate development of Christianity into a religion of reason--a
-conception in which the idea of the destiny of Christianity to become
-a world religion undergoes a philosophical transformation which recurs
-even in the writings of Kant.
-
-Apart from this transformation, which was only partially complete
-even in the Age of Enlightenment, the idea of religious development
-that grew up in connection with Christian thought involves _two_
-presuppositions. The first of these is that the pathway of mankind
-was _determined by God_, and not voluntarily chosen by man himself.
-It is not to religious thought that the characteristic features of
-the development must be ascribed. The development, moreover, is not
-immanent in religion; it is the result of external causes. The second
-presupposition is that this development follows a preconceived _plan_;
-it embodies a purpose--indeed, it expresses purpose in the very highest
-degree precisely because it proceeds from the will of God. Even the
-co-operation of individuals in the fulfilment of this plan is but the
-result of divine predetermination, or happens because God has made
-known His purposes to these individuals. Thus, this course of thought
-leads with inner necessity to the conception of _revelation_. This
-conception combines two essentially irreconcilable ideas, offsetting
-each by the other. The religious destiny of man is thought to lie
-outside his own control: it is imposed upon him from without, and is
-communicated to him in the form of an illumination which he receives
-from the supersensuous world. Thus, religious development itself
-becomes a supersensuous process, which falls beyond the possibilities
-of the ordinary means of human knowledge. As its goal lies in the
-supersensuous, so also is the development itself a supersensuous
-process that extends over into the world of sense.
-
-But at this point the religious view of world history necessarily came
-into sharp conflict with the philosophical view, though the latter had
-in certain respects appropriated the idea, developed by the former, of
-a teleological direction of human destinies. The philosopher, always
-trusting the guidance of his own reason, might admit both a goal and
-a plan, but that these should be inaccessible to the _lux naturalis_,
-as the philosophy of the Enlightenment called rational knowledge in
-distinction from _lux supranaturalis_, or revelation, he could not
-concede. The logical outcome of this course of thought was an auxiliary
-concept which appeared to surmount the difficulty, and also possessed
-the happy characteristic of leaving every one free to retain, along
-with the natural light, as much or as little of the supernatural
-thought of an earlier period as he might deem wise. This auxiliary
-concept was that of _education_--a conception that would readily
-suggest itself to an age vitally interested in pedagogical questions.
-The thought here involved represents merely a special application to
-this particular instance of the idea that the world is governed by a
-personal deity. Thus it came about that, from the time of Locke and
-Leibniz down to that of Lessing and Herder, the favourite conception of
-history was that of an education of mankind. But it is significant that
-the very work whose title incorporates this idea, Lessing's _Education
-of the Human Race_, really ends by displacing it. True, as a result
-of Biblical tradition, the idea of education is here brought into
-connection with the thought that the Jewish race is the chosen people
-of God. Freed from this connection, however, and applied to mankind
-in general, the idea of education, in Lessing's work, becomes that of
-_self-education_, or, what is the same thing, that of a _development_
-determined by the general laws of mental life. Hence conditions were
-ripe for the further advance made by Herder, in his _Ideas on the
-Philosophy of the History of Mankind_. Though frequently lapsing,
-in his discussions of details, into the transcendent teleology of
-the preceding period, Herder nevertheless did away in principle with
-the restriction of the history of mankind to religious development,
-substituting for the latter the development to humanity.
-
-Thus was determined the programme which historical science, at about
-the same time, accepted as its own--the programme of a universal
-history, whose task did not consist in presenting a loosely connected
-series of the histories of separate States, but in describing the
-common participation of peoples and States in the development of
-a universal culture. Furthermore, the way was cleared for the
-philosophical position that history is not, as was once thought, the
-expression of a predetermined plan whose purpose is that of a divine
-education, but that it is the result of laws immanent in historical
-life itself. Though variously expressed and partly obscured by
-surviving ideas of the preceding period, this is the fundamental
-conviction common to the nineteenth-century philosophers of history.
-It received its most complete expression in the writings of Hegel,
-not merely in his _Lectures on the Philosophy of History_, but in
-his entire philosophy, which reflects throughout a broad historical
-outlook. History had by this time come to be regarded as a strictly
-self-dependent development of ideas in which each advance proceeds
-with rigid logical necessity from that which went before. In other
-words, it was thought of as a development of reason in time, or, in
-the phraseology of a religious world-view, as the living development
-of God himself. God is no longer conceived as a transmundane being who
-guides the destinies of mankind according to a preconceived plan. On
-the contrary, He is represented as immanent in the world. His innermost
-nature is described as the world-reason, and this is said to be
-unfolded particularly in the history of mankind.
-
-However superior this conception may be to the preceding
-semi-mythological and semi-rationalistic theory of a divine education,
-it is clearly apparent that it was the outcome of a continuous
-development, characterized, we may doubtless say, by strict logical
-necessity. Antecedent to it were, first, the conception that this world
-is a preparation for the kingdom of God, and, later, the thought that
-life is an education in accordance with a predetermined plan. That the
-Hegelian conception is the result of such a development is evident from
-the very fact that it continues to regard the destinies of mankind as
-guided by a plan. This plan has, from stage to stage, merely passed
-from transcendence to immanence, inasmuch as it is finally thought to
-be present to the mind of the philosopher who interprets the meaning
-of history. Hence this later philosophy of history resembles the
-earlier in still another respect. Ultimately, both are more concerned
-with the future than with the past, thus being at once history and
-prophecy. Even at the later period, the central question to whose
-answer everything else is preparatory concerns the final goal toward
-which mankind is striving. Hence it is that the philosophers of this
-age are led time and again to divide the total life of humanity into
-periods inclusive of past, present, and future, precisely as did
-the world-plan of Augustine, whose basal conception was the idea of
-redemption. Since these periods are not derived from the progress of
-events, but are for the most part imposed upon it in conformity to the
-dictates of logic, the course of history is mapped out by reference to
-logical categories. Each of the great cultural peoples is portrayed as
-representing a specific idea, and, disregarding everything that might
-disturb their sequence, these ideas are arranged in a logical series.
-Thus, Hegel begins his reconstruction of history with an account of
-the Chinese as the people who possessed the earliest civilization. He
-does so, however, not because Chinese culture was as a matter of fact
-the earliest, but because it has apparently been more stable than other
-cultures, as well as more closely bound up with rigid external forms.
-Correspondingly, all succeeding stages of history are arranged by
-Hegel according to the principle, on the one hand, of a progress from
-bondage to spiritual freedom, and, on the other, of a transition from
-finite limitation to a striving for the infinite. This philosophy of
-history should not be criticized for its lack of knowledge concerning
-the beginnings of culture. Its fundamental error lies in the fact
-that, in tracing the development of mankind, it is guided, not by the
-rich concrete actuality of events but by a logical schematism which is
-in large measure imposed upon history, and only to a far less degree
-abstracted from it. That which was once a plan prescribed by God for
-mankind here at length becomes a plan elaborated by philosophers.
-
-Without question, therefore, a philosophy of history must henceforth
-adopt a different course. True, it cannot dispense with principles that
-are in a certain sense external to history itself. Yet the function of
-such a philosophy would appear to consist in considering historical
-life from the point of view of the purposes that come to realization
-within it, and of the values that are created on the various levels of
-historical culture. Such a teleology of history--indeed, in the last
-analysis, every teleology--must be preceded by a causal investigation,
-which begins, here as everywhere, by entirely ignoring purposes and
-values. Now, history is really an account of mental life. As such,
-it gives consideration to physical factors only in so far as they
-furnish the indispensable basis of mind. Hence the direct approach to a
-philosophy of history which aims, not to acquire a knowledge of reality
-from _a priori_ concepts but, conversely, to derive ideas from reality,
-is a _psychological account of the development of mankind_. Although
-the concrete significance of the particular, as such, precludes the
-historian from disregarding it, everything that is merely particular
-should be ignored by one who is giving a psychological account of
-events. The aim, in this latter case, should be that of discovering
-the determining motives of historical life and its changes, and
-of interpreting these by reference to the universal laws of mind.
-Supplementing this aim should be the endeavour to gain, so far as
-possible, an insight into the laws that are immanent in history itself.
-Our first three chapters have attempted to give an account of the
-development of folk consciousness during the periods that, for the most
-part, preceded self-conscious historical life. But neither this account
-nor the bare outline which our final chapter gives of the beginnings of
-the development to humanity must pretend to be a substitute for, or in
-any way to represent, a philosophy of history. The difference between
-an investigation such as ours and a philosophy of history is precisely
-the same as that which distinguishes a psychological description of
-mental life in general from a philosophical interpretation. But, if
-anywhere, it is especially in the field of history that a psychological
-analysis, concerned primarily to understand life in its actual
-occurrence, must precede questions regarding the meaning of events and
-the value which individual historical characters possess as respects
-both themselves and their permanent influence. In other words, we
-may henceforth demand that any philosophy of history which seeks to
-contribute to our understanding of the questions just mentioned, should
-be based on a psychological account of the development of mankind.
-
-The point that we would emphasize is not that the philosophy of history
-has failed, in the past centuries, to find a satisfactory solution of
-its problem, and that its failure was inevitable. To the historical
-mind there is a far more important consideration. This consists in the
-fact that, when freed from its original mythological and teleological
-connections, the general conception of a history of mankind developed
-during these centuries has given clear definition to the idea of
-humanity in its most universal form. Humanity, it has been shown,
-includes within itself all antecedent social phenomena--peoples and
-States, religion and culture. This entire social complex has been
-subsumed under the principle that law is immanent in all history.
-
-
-
-
-INDEX
-
-
-_Prepared by Dr. Alma de Vries Schaub on the basis of the German Index
-compiled by Dr. Hans Lindau._
-
-    Abraham, 45, 154, 355, 361, 384, 435;
-      and Isaac, 435
-    Adornment, 21, 86, 100, 105, 110, 120, 131, 449 ff.
-    Adventure, Maerchen of, 279 f., 395
-    Aesculapius, 439
-    Agamy, 36, 169, 181
-    Age,
-      of the development to humanity, 470 ff.;
-      of heroes and gods, 281 ff.;
-      of personalities, 320;
-      of primitive man, 11 ff.;
-      the totemic, 116 ff.
-    Age-groups, 41, 51, 131
-    Agricultural ceremonies, 135
-    Agriculture, 126 f., 140, 486;
-      Animals in, 120 f., 124
-    Alexandrianism, 490
-    Allegories, 421 ff.
-    Amulets, 86, 227 ff., 292, 439, 451
-    Anabaptists, 444
-    Ancestor,
-      Animal, 117, 132 f., 204, 230 ff.;
-      Demon, 467;
-      Human, 204, 214, 230 ff.;
-      Totem, 186
-    Ancestor cults, 205, 230 ff.
-    Ancestor theory, 361 f.
-    Ancestor worship, 117, 186 f., 204, 214, 410, 480
-    Ancestral spirits, 419
-    Animals,
-      Breeding of, 120, 289 ff., 420;
-      Domestic, 120, 289 ff., 420;
-      Sacred, 121;
-      Soul, 83, 190 ff., 214, 368, 412 f.;
-      Totem, 117 ff., 131 ff., 143, 188 ff., 193, 200, 260, 412 f.;
-      Transformations into, 133, 272 ff., 412 f.
-    Animal cult, 117, 136
-    Animal dance, 464
-    Animal fable, 272
-    Animal mask, 95, 105, 135
-    Animal names, 187 f.
-    Animal sacrifice, 210 f., 433 f.
-    Animal totem, 117, 138 f., 186, 214
-    Animism, 139, 193, 204 f.
-    Anthropology, Prehistoric, 14 f.
-    Anthropophagy, 31, 209 f.
-    Arbitrator, 331
-    Architecture, 261, 451 ff.
-    Art, 94 ff., 104, 256 ff., 322, 448 ff., 490;
-      Formative, 100 ff., 256 f.;
-      Imitative, 107 f.;
-      Memorial, 23 f., 107 f.;
-      Miniature, 453;
-      Musical, 262 ff., 456 ff.
-    Aristotle, 12 f., 19, 350, 504, 517
-    Asceticism, 198
-    Augustine, 516, 521
-    Aversion, 194
-    Awe, 194
-
-    _Bachofen, J.,_, 34 ff.
-    Baptism, 444 f.
-    Barter, 168;
-      Secret, 10, 21, 31 ff., 55, 120;
-      Marriage by, 157
-    Beyond, Belief in a, 394 ff., 412, 420 f., 423 ff., 431, 495, 502
-    Blessedness, 396, 403 f., 406
-    Blood,
-      Relation of soul to, 191, 206 ff., 213;
-      Taboo of, 200, 210
-    Blood-magic, 191
-    Blood-relationship, 208 f.
-    Blood-revenge, 163, 314, 333, 339 ff., 344 ff.
-    Blowpipe, 100 f., 104
-    Boat, 129
-    Boomerang, 27 f., 125, 177
-    Bow and arrow, 16, 26 ff., 33, 49, 112, 124
-    Breath, Relation of soul to, 192 f., 205 ff., 212 f., 242
-    _Buecher, Karl_, 267
-    Buddha, 381 f., 425 f., 498 f., 504, 507
-    Buddhism, 10, 478, 496 ff., 515
-    Bull-roarer, 99 f., 181, 266
-    Burial, 216 ff., 397
-    Bush soul, 232
-
-    Capture, Marriage by, 154 ff., 163, 168
-    Castle, 324 f., 327, 452
-    Castration, 290 f., 294 f.
-    Cattle-raising, 120, 124, 137 f.
-    Causality, 92 f.
-    Cave, 22 ff., 106, 108
-    Celestial cults, 251
-    Celestial maerchen, 275 f.
-    Celestial mythology, 76, 80, 91, 130 f., 134 ff., 140, 189,
-      220, 246, 258, 355 ff., 419
-    Celestial phenomena, 304 ff.
-    Ceramics, 30, 80, 135, 259 f.
-    Ceremonies,
-      Intichiuma, 185 f., 188 f., 244 ff.;
-      Sanctification, 442 ff.;
-      Vegetation, 135 f., 189, 249, 418 ff
-    Chaos, 388, 390, 392
-    Chief wife, 45f., 168 ff., 316
-    Chieftain, 121, 134, 195, 233
-    Chieftainship, 119, 125, 233, 314, 332
-    Christianity, 10, 478, 496 ff., 515 f.
-    Church and State, 491 f.
-    Churingas, 177, 181, 185, 190, 204, 221, 224 ff.
-    Circumcision, 445
-    Cities, Foundation of, 311, 323 f.
-    Clan names, 141 ff.
-    Classes, Differentiation of, 125, 311, 316 ff.
-    Club, Men's, 41, 47, 119, 131, 173 f., 255, 312, 409
-    Coat of arms, 143, 232
-    Colonization, 300 f.
-    Common property, 248, 317 ff.
-    Community labour, 136, 247 f.
-    Compurgator, 335
-    Conception totemism, 176, 180 ff., 189 f., 191, 193
-    Conjuration, 269, 427 f.
-    Conscience, 329, 431
-    Consecration gift, 438 ff.
-    Constitution, 349 ff.
-    Contract, Marriage by, 158 f.
-    Cord magic, 86 f., 202, 415, 440
-    Corporeal soul, 82, 191 f., 205 ff., 211 ff., 216, 221 f., 406
-    Corroboree, 184, 464
-    Cosmogony, 370, 385 ff., 393, 404
-    Cosmopolitanism, 489
-    Counter-gods, 370
-    Counter-magic, 84, 105, 201, 203, 444 f.
-    Counting, Systems of, 304 ff.
-    Couvade, 198
-    Creation-myths, 388 ff.
-    Cremation, 218 ff., 397
-    Crouching graves, 218
-    Cults,
-      Ancestor, 117, 204f., 230 ff.;
-      Celestial, 251 f.;
-      of the dead, 452;
-      Deity, 205, 325, 414 ff., 424 ff.;
-      Demon, 249 ff.;
-      Hero, 204;
-      Magic, 416 f.;
-      Mystery, 420 ff., 502;
-      of saints, 178 f.;
-      of the soil, 245 ff.;
-      Soul, 421 f., 502;
-      Totemic, 236 ff.;
-      Vegetation, 135, 243 ff., 250 f., 294, 418 ff.
-    Cult associations, 119, 136, 143, 161, 179 f., 255
-    Cult ceremonies, 90
-    Cult practices, 426 ff.
-    Cult songs, 96, 267 ff., 461
-    Custom, 350
-
-    Dance, 90, 95 f., 104, 249, 262 ff., 449, 457;
-      Ceremonial, 264;
-      Ecstatic, 249, 264, 418, 423
-    Dance-song, 95 f.
-    Dead,
-      Disposal of the, 81, 215 ff., 234 f., 238 f., 397, 405;
-      Realm of the, 398 ff.;
-      Sacrifice to the, 238 ff., 253 f., 433 f.
-    Deaf and dumb, The, 59 f.
-    Death, 81 f., 494
-    Debt, 343
-    Degeneration theory, 225, 353
-    Deity cult, 205, 325, 414 ff., 424 ff.
-    Deity saga, 384 f.
-    Demon battles, 370, 404 f.
-    Demon cult, 249 ff.
-    Demons, 75 ff., 81 ff., 105, 196, 201, 203, 217 f., 221 f.,
-        224, 236, 263 f., 284 f., 351 ff., 361 ff., 387 ff., 418 ff.;
-      and the epic, 458 f.;
-      and heroes, 283 ff., 369, 372 f., 454;
-      Vegetation, 441
-    Destiny, 366
-    Development, Theory of, 353 ff.
-    Devourment, Maerchen of, 276 ff.
-    Differentiation of classes, 125, 311, 316 ff.;
-      of vocations, 311, 321 ff.
-    Digging-stick, 26, 100, 120, 124, 126 f.
-    Dionysian mysteries, 447
-    Discoveries, Geographical, 492
-    Divination, 441 f.
-    Divine State, 329, 373, 388, 411, 416, 494
-    Dog, 22 f., 124, 290
-    Domestic animals, Breeding of, 120 f., 289 ff.
-    Drama, 9, 462 ff., 490
-    Dreams, 189 f., 193, 205 f., 401, 407
-    Dress, 21;
-      Origin of, 85 ff., 120, 126, 131, 133, 449
-    Duel, 336
-    Dwelling, 21 ff., 106
-    Dwarf peoples, 19, 77 f., 115, 353
-
-    Eclipse of the sun, 81
-    Ecstasy, 249, 397, 423 f., 434
-    Education and history, 519
-    Elysium, 403 f.
-    Emotion, 81, 92 f., 105, 114, 264, 268, 356, 367 ff., 423, 466, 468 f.;
-      as related to magic, 93
-    Endogamy, 118, 149, 151, 166
-    Enlightenment, 11, 470, 517
-    Epic, 9, 280, 450, 457 ff.
-    Ethnology, 5 f., 122
-    Eunuchs, 294
-    Evil magic, 274
-    Exogamy, 46, 118, 144 ff., 163 ff., 183, 196, 289 f.
-
-    Family, 12f., 34 ff., 235, 311 ff.;
-      Joint, 153, 312 ff.;
-      The original, 12;
-      Single, 313, 315
-    Father-right, 36, 314
-    Fear, 81, 92, 194, 200, 224, 370, 400
-    Fetish, 186 f., 214, 220 ff., 352 f., 439, 454
-    Fetishism, 139, 186 f., 204, 352
-    Fire, 30 f., 124;
-      Acquisition of, 30 ff;
-      Kindling of, 49, 292;
-      Lustration by, 201 f., 218 ff., 243, 338, 407, 443 f., 446;
-      Solstice, 202;
-      Trial by, 243, 338
-    First-fruits, Sacrifice of, 440 f.
-    Flood, Universal, 391 ff.
-    Flood saga, 391 ff.
-    Flute, 97, 266
-    Folk psychology,
-      History of, 1 ff.;
-      Methods of, 6 f.;
-      Problem of, 3 f.;
-      relation to ethnology, 5 f.;
-      relation to general psychology, 3;
-      relation to philosophy of history, 522 f.
-    Food,
-      of primitive man, 24 ff.;
-      Prohibitions on, 199 f.
-    Forest-dwellers, 19, 122, 395
-    Formative art, 99 ff., 256 f.
-    Fortitude, 242 f., 247
-    Foundation of cities, 311, 323 ff.
-    _Frazer, J. G.,_, 38, 152, 189 f.
-    Fusion, Racial, 111, 288 f.
-
-    Gathering of food, 24 f., 124, 140, 144
-    Genetic psychology, 4
-    Gesture language, 58 ff., 69
-    Gestures,
-      Graphic, 62 f,;
-      Pointing, 61 f.;
-      Significant, 63
-    Gift, 432ff.;
-      Consecration, 438f.;
-      Marriage by, 158, 163f.;
-      Votive, 438 f.
-    Gift theory of sacrifice, 240, 432 ff.
-    _Gillen, Messrs. Spencer and_, 18, 38, 188
-    Gods,
-      Abode of, 364, 366;
-      Age of heroes and, 8 f., 121, 235 f., 281 ff.;
-      Battles of, 370, 388 f., 404 f.;
-      Belief in, 285 f.;
-      Characteristics of, 282 ff., 362 ff.;
-      Cult of, 205, 325, 414 ff., 424 ff.;
-      Decline of, 365;
-      and demons, 366 f., 369, 459;
-      Development of, 362 ff.;
-      Images of, 223 f., 247, 450, 453f.;
-      Judgment of, 337;
-      of the moment, 362 ff.;
-      Origin of, 350 ff., 364 ff., 369;
-      Particular, 362 ff.;
-      Perfection of, 364 f.;
-      Personality of, 236, 366 ff.;
-      of the present, 234;
-      Saga of, 228, 374 f., 384 f.;
-      Superpersonal, 390, 467, 504 ff.
-    God-man, 506 f.
-    Greek language and culture, 488 ff.
-    _Grimm, Jacob_, 459
-    Graves, Crouching, 218
-    Group-marriage, 38, 41 f., 44 f., 48, 168 ff., 316
-    Guardian animal, 190, 232
-    Guardian deity, 325, 501
-    Guardian spirits, 178, 369
-    Guide, 407 f.
-    Guilt, 203, 253, 430
-    Gynocracy, 35 f.
-
-    Hades, 398, 401, 404
-    Hammurabi, Code of, 330, 338, 343, 347, 411
-    Harvest, Sacrifices in connection with, 440 f.
-    Heart and soul, 207
-    Heaven, 395, 404
-    Heavens,
-      Mythology of the, 76, 80, 91 f., 130 f., 134 f., 140, 189,
-        220, 246, 258, 355 f., 419;
-      Phenomena of the, 304 ff.
-    _Hegel_, 520 f.
-    Helios, 358 f.
-    Hercules, 376 f., 382, 407
-    Herd, 52, 121
-    _Herder_, 52, 470, 472, 519
-    Hermes, 407 f.
-    Hero, 9, 281 ff,;
-      Cult of the, 204;
-      and demon, 283 ff., 369, 372 f., 454;
-      and god, 282 ff., 364, 369 ff., 454
-    Hero saga, 228, 356, 374 ff.
-    Heroic age, 281 ff.
-    Heroic song, 9
-    _Hillebrand, Karl_, 1
-    Historical consciousness, 478
-    Historical religion, 509
-    History, 510 ff.;
-      and saga, 377 ff.
-    _Hobbes, Thomas_, 11 f., 34, 36, 111
-    Hoe, 120, 126 f., 134
-    Hoe-culture, 134, 138, 246, 248, 250, 289
-    Horde, 52, 120, 145, 180, 237, 302, 471, 511
-    Horse, 293
-    Hospitality, 341
-    Hostage, 343
-    _Howitt, A. W._, 18, 37f., 142, 188
-    Human nature, 471 f., 475
-    Humanity, 9, 470 ff.;
-      Ideal of, 410
-    Hunting, 24 f., 140, 144;
-      Use of dog in, 22 f.
-    Hut,
-      Conical, 261, 451;
-      Pole, 261;
-      Spherical, 261
-    Hymns, 385, 393, 430, 461, 465
-
-    Ideals, Religious, 410
-    Ideas,
-      of a beyond, 393 ff., 420, 423 ff., 431, 495;
-      Concrete, 72;
-      Mythological, 74
-    Idols, 131
-    Images, Divine, 223 f., 447, 450, 453 f.
-    Imitation of animals, 95
-    Immortality, Belief in, 233, 394 ff., 412, 420 f., 423 ff.,
-      431, 495, 502
-    Imprisonment, 342 ff.
-    Individual rulership, 287, 313
-    Individualism, 489, 492
-    Infanticide, 43 f., 175, 237
-    Infinitude, 505 f.
-    Instruments,
-      of concussion, 265;
-      Musical, 97 ff., 265 f., 457, 468;
-      Stringed, 97 f., 266;
-      Wind, 265 f.
-    Initiation ceremonies, 202, 241 ff., 247
-    Intelligence of primitive man, 109 ff.
-    Intichiuma ceremonies, 185 f., 188 f., 244 ff.
-    Islamism, 10, 316, 497
-
-    Javelin, 124 f.
-    Joint family, 153, 312 ff.
-    Jordan festival, 203, 446
-    Judaism, 497
-    Judge, 331 ff., 347;
-      Appointed, 331;
-      in the underworld, 403
-    Judgment of the gods, 337
-    Judicial functions, Division of, 348 f.
-    Justice, Administration of, 331 ff.
-    _Jus primae noctis_, 46, 168
-    _Jus talionis_, 345 ff.
-
-    _Kant_, 470, 517
-    _Kern, H._, 55
-    Kidneys, as vehicles of the soul, 209, 211 f., 221, 434 f., 445
-    Kiss, 242
-    _Klaatsch, Hermann_, 15
-    Knife, 131, 449
-    _Kollman, Julius_, 77
-
-    Labour,
-      Community, 136, 247 f.;
-      Degradation of, 321 f.;
-      Division of, 49 f., 300;
-      Equalization of, 322 f.
-    Landscape painting, 456
-    _Lang, Andrew_, 153, 187
-    Language, 53 ff., 137;
-      Gesture, 58 ff., 69
-    Lawgivers, 307 f.
-    _Lazarus and Steinthal, Messrs._, 2
-    Legal system, 327 ff.
-    Legends, 381 ff., 421 f.;
-      Mura-mura, 231;
-      of redemption, 382 f.;
-      Religious, 381;
-      of saints, 381 ff., 464
-    _Lessing_, 414, 519
-    Lie, 63, 114
-    _Lippert, Julius_, 205, 231
-    Liturgy, 463, 465 ff.
-    Loin cord, 85 ff.
-    Lustration, 201 ff., 219 f., 252 f., 338, 407, 412, 443 ff.
-
-    Magic,
-      Belief in, 75 ff., 81, 84 ff., 92, 94 f., 105, 376 f., 434 ff.;
-      Cord, 86 f., 202, 415, 440;
-      Evil, 274;
-      Imitative, 354;
-      Protective, 85, 449
-    Magic staff, 335 f.
-    Magic test, 337 f.
-    Magical offering, 440
-    Magical transference, 201 ff.
-    Magician, 84 f., 330, 378
-    _Man, E.H._, 79
-    Mankind and human nature, 471 f., 475
-    _Mannhardt, W._., 249, 292, 441
-    Maerchen, 270 ff.;
-      of adventure, 279 f., 395;
-      Celestial, 275 f., 395;
-      of devourment, 277 ff.
-    Maerchen-cycle, 380
-    Maerchen-hero, 356, 375 ff., 387, 459
-    Maerchen-myth, 270 ff., 387 ff., 413, 458 f.
-    Mark community, 309 f.
-    Market, 327, 463
-    Marriage, 12, 34 ff., 89;
-      by barter, 157;
-      of brother and sister, 118, 148 ff.;
-      by capture, 153 ff., 163, 167 f.;
-      by contract, 158 f.;
-      by gift, 158 f.;
-      Group, 38, 41 f., 44 f., 48, 168 ff., 316;
-      Modes of contracting, 155 ff., 172 f.;
-      Pirrauru, 168 ff.;
-      by purchase, 158 f.;
-      Single, 51
-    Mask, 95, 105, 135, 262 ff.
-    Maternal descent, 35 ff., 47, 146 ff., 165, 173 f., 196 f., 314
-    Maternal rule, 35, 314
-    _Martin, Rudolf_, 50
-    _McLennan, J. F._, 145, 153
-    Meal-times of primitive man, 24
-    Medicine-men, 83 f., 89, 105, 180, 223, 233, 254 f., 330, 341, 409
-    Memorial art, 24, 107
-    Men's club, 41, 47, 119, 131, 173 f., 255 f., 312, 409
-    Metempsychosis, 412 ff.
-    Migrations, 111, 287 f.;
-      Folk, 126 ff., 164, 288 f.;
-      Tribal, 120, 138, 191, 488
-    Military organization, 310
-    Milk industry, 137 f., 289, 296 f.
-    Mimic play, 459, 462, 490
-    Monogamy, 34, 36, 43, 46 ff., 89, 114, 167, 169 ff., 311 ff.
-    Monotheism, 77, 225, 231, 353 ff.
-    Monumental edifices, 452, 490
-    Morality, Primitive, 114 f.
-    _Morgan, Lewes_, 38, 152
-    Mother-right, 34 ff., 314
-    _Mueller, Max_, 225
-    Mummy, 207
-    Mura-mura legends, 176 f., 231
-    Murder, 339 f., 346
-    Music, 95 ff., 264 ff., 449, 456 f., 464, 466 ff.;
-      Absolute, 468
-    Musical instruments, 97 ff., 265 f., 457, 468
-    Mystery cults, 420 ff., 502
-    Myth, 75 f., 375 f., 384 ff., 413 ff.;
-      Celestial, 76, 80, 91, 130 f., 134 ff., 140, 189, 220, 246,
-        258, 355 ff., 419;
-      Cosmogonic, 385 ff., 404;
-      and cult, 414 ff.;
-      Maerchen-, 270 ff., 387 ff., 413, 458f.;
-      Theogonic, 384 ff.;
-      of the underworld, 397 ff.;
-      of world destruction, 391 f.
-    Mythical hero, 379
-    Mythology, Nature, 76
-
-    Narrative, 270 ff.
-    Nature, Man of, 11 ff.
-    Nature-demons, 370
-    Nature-mythology, 76
-    Neanderthal skull, 14 f.
-    Nirvana, 499
-    Nomads, 120, 138, 419
-    Novel, Short, 464
-    Numbers,
-      Sacred, 305, 407;
-      Social organization and, 304 ff.
-
-    Oath, 335 f.
-    Offering, 432 ff.
-    Oracle, 442
-    Ordeal, 336 f.
-    Orders, 255
-    Organization,
-      Military, 310;
-      Political, 302 ff.;
-      Tribal, 117 ff., 132, 140 ff., 152
-    Ornamentation, 100 ff.
-    Other-world ideas, 394 ff., 410, 420 ff., 431, 495, 502
-
-    Painting, 106 ff., 456, 468
-    Palace, Royal, 452, 454, 481
-    _Pasha, Emin_, 114
-    Passion plays, 463, 465
-    Particular gods, 362 f.
-    Paternal descent, 37, 146 ff., 173 f., 196 f., 314
-    Paternal rule, 35, 314
-    Patriarchal family, 313
-    Patriarchal period, 35 f.
-    Penal law, 338 ff.
-    Penitential psalm, 430 f.
-    Personalities, Age of, 320
-    Personality, 489, 505
-    Phallus cult, 212
-    Philology, 2, 53, 490
-    Philosophy, 354, 496, 504, 518;
-      of history, 519 ff.
-    Pirrauru marriage, 168 ff.
-    Plant totem, 134, 176, 184, 188 ff., 192, 199, 214, 245
-    Platform disposal of the dead, 216, 405
-    Plough, 134, 138, 248, 289 ff., 298
-    Poison,
-      Arrow, 26;
-      Plant, 25 f.
-    Poetry, 267 ff., 457
-    Pole-houses, 261
-    Political organization, 302 ff.
-    Polyandry, 42 ff., 167, 171 f., 313
-    Polygamy, 41 f., 47, 166 ff., 312
-    Polygyny, 42 ff., 139, 167, 170 ff., 312, 315 f.
-    Polytheism, 80, 355, 357, 371
-    Pottery, 30, 80, 135, 259 f.
-    Praise, Hymns of, 430
-    Prayer, 427 ff.;
-      Penitential, 430 f.;
-      of petition, 427 f., 439;
-      of thanksgiving, 429 f., 439
-    Prehistory, 13 f., 451
-    _Preusz, K. Th._, 242, 435, 464
-    Priesthood, 321, 330, 332
-    Priests' Code, 200, 210, 329, 345, 432
-    Primitive man, Discovery of, 11 ff.
-    Property, 47, 114, 120, 138, 173 f., 195 f.;
-      Common, 248, 317 ff.;
-      Private, 298, 300, 317 ff.
-    Prophetic signs, 442
-    Promiscuity, 36, 38, 169, 181
-    Prohibition of certain foods, 199 f.
-    Protection, Right to, 340 ff.
-    Protective magic, 85
-    Psyche, 205 f., 212 ff., 217, 220, 241, 405
-    Punishment, 338, 342, 404, 406 f., 431;
-      and sacrifice, 433
-    Puppet show, 464 f.
-    Purgatory, 407 f., 412
-    Purification, 201 f., 219 f., 499;
-      Rites of, 201, 443 f.
-      _Cf._ Lustration.
-    Pygmies, 19, 77 ff., 115, 353
-
-    Rain-magic, 253, 268
-    Rain priests, 249, 263, 268
-    Rattle, 100, 266
-    _Ratzel, Friedrich_, 5
-    Realm of the dead, 396 f., 400
-    Reconciliation, 432
-    Redemption, 410, 447, 495 f.;
-      Legends of, 381;
-      Religions of, 496
-    Reformation, 492
-    Refrain, 96 f., 104
-    Relationship, Malayan system of, 38 ff.
-    Religion, Origin of, 75 ff., 282 ff.
-    Religious ideals, 410
-    Renaissance, 455 f., 491 f., 517
-    Retribution, Idea of, 401, 408, 411, 413
-    Revelation, 518
-    Rhythm, 103 f., 268 f.
-    Rights, Equality of, 320
-    Rings, Exchange of, 87
-    Root languages, 68 f.
-    _Roskoff, G.G._, 75
-    _Rousseau, J.J._, 12
-    Rulership, Individual, 287, 313
-
-    Sacredness, 195 f., 199
-    Sacrifice, 253 f., 295 f., 427, 431 ff.;
-      Animal, 210 f., 433 f.;
-      to the dead, 238 ff., 253 f., 433 f.;
-      Human, 210, 433 ff., 440, 447;
-      of reconciliation, 432
-    Sacrificial animal, 210 f.
-    Sacrificial feast, 446 f.
-    Saga,
-      Deity, 384 f.;
-      Flood, 391 ff.;
-      Hero, 228, 356, 374 ff.
-    Saints,
-      Legends of, 381 ff., 464;
-      Worship of, 178 f.
-    Sanctification, 427;
-      Ceremonies of, 442
-    Sanctuary, 341 f.
-    _Sarasin, F. and P._, 19, 49, 75, 90
-    Satisfaction of wants, 448 f.
-    Satyric play, 464
-    Scapegoat, 203
-    Scarab, 229
-    _Schmalz, E._, 60
-    _Schmidt, Wilhelm_, 78 f., 114, 353
-    _Schultze, Leonard_, 88
-    _Schweinfurth, Georg_, 18 f., 77
-    Science, 449, 489 f.
-    _Scott, W. R._, 60
-    Sculpture, 261, 453 ff., 490
-    Secret barter, 10, 21, 31 ff., 55, 120
-    Secret societies, 254 ff.
-    Secondary wives, 45, 168 ff., 316
-    Self-education, 519
-    Self-mutilation, 294 f., 434
-    Sex totemism, 119, 176, 182 f., 186 f., 190, 193
-    Sexual organs and the soul, 211, 434, 445
-    Shadow soul, 192 f., 205 f.
-    Shamans, 84
-    Shame, Feeling of, 88
-    Shield, 125, 131
-    Sickness, 81, 83 ff., 90, 494;
-      Demons of, 82 f., 105, 236
-    Sin offering, 432 f.
-    Single marriage, 51
-    Skull, 217;
-      Neanderthal, 14 f.
-    Slave, 154, 156
-    Slavery, 139
-    Smoke, 220
-    Snake society, 256, 269
-    Social psychology, 4
-    Society, Primitive, 50 ff.
-    Soil, Cults of the, 245 ff.
-    Solstice festivals, 420
-    Solstice fire, 202
-    Song, 95 ff., 104, 267 ff., 449, 458, 460 ff.;
-      of praise, 430;
-      Work, 268 f., 461
-    Soul,
-      Breath, 192 f., 205 ff., 212 f., 242 f.;
-      Corporeal, 82, 191 f., 205 ff., 211 ff.; 216, 221 f., 406;
-      Ideas of the, 190 ff., 394 ff.;
-      and kidneys, 209, 211 f.;
-      Shadow, 192 f., 205 f.;
-      Vehicles of the, 207 ff., 211 f., 221, 434 f., 445
-    Soul animals, 83, 190 ff., 214, 368, 412 f.
-    Soul belief, 204 ff.
-    Soul cults, 421 f., 502
-    Souls,
-      Exchange of, 242;
-      Transmigration of, 412 ff.
-    Sound and meaning, 65 ff.
-    Spear, 125
-    Speech, 496 f.
-    _Spencer and Gillen, Messrs._, 18, 38, 188
-    _Spencer, Herbert_, 187, 205, 231
-    Spirit villages, 396
-    Sprinkling, 203, 445 f.
-    State, 8 f., 119, 285 f., 287, 303, 472 ff.;
-      Church and, 491 f.;
-      Divine, 329, 373, 388, 411, 416, 494;
-      Forms of the, 349, 517
-    _Steinen, Karl von den_, 102
-    _Steinthal, H._, 2, 68
-    Stipulation, 334
-    Stringed instruments, 97 f., 266
-    _Stuhlmann, Franz_, 114
-    Substitute, 435
-    Sun, Eclipse of the, 81
-    Sweat-lodges, 252
-    Sword, 131, 299
-    Symbolism, 334, 422, 447
-    Symmetry, 103 f.
-
-    Taboo, 131 f., 193 ff., 203, 219, 341;
-      on foods, 199 f.;
-      on relations by marriage, 196 ff.
-    Talisman, 89, 104, 227 ff.
-    Tattooing, 21, 87, 131, 135, 255, 257 ff., 451
-    Teleology, 522
-    Temple, 195, 324 f., 450, 452 f., 465, 467, 481
-    Theft, 114;
-      of women, 46
-    Theogony, 384 ff., 417
-    Thinking, Primitive, 68 ff.
-    Tippamalku, 168 ff.
-    Torture, 344
-    Totem, 8, 116 ff., 203 f., 412 f.;
-      Inanimate, 177, 185 ff.
-    Totem animal, 117 ff., 131 ff., 143, 188 ff., 193, 200, 260, 412 f.
-    Totem friendships, 162 ff.
-    Totem poles, 143 f., 232 ff.
-    Totemism, 116 ff.;
-      Animal, 117 ff., 131 ff., 138 f., 175 ff., 193, 214, 245, 412 f.;
-      Conception, 176, 180 ff., 189 f., 191, 193;
-      Individual, 119, 175, 178 ff., 187, 189 f.;
-      Plant, 134, 176, 184, 188 ff., 192, 199, 214, 245;
-      Sex, 119, 176, 180, 182 f., 186 f., 190, 193;
-      Tribal, 177 ff., 187
-    Trade, 121, 300 f., 452
-    Transference, Magical, 201 ff.
-    Transformation into animals, 133, 272 ff., 412 f.
-    Transmigration of souls, 412 ff.
-    Tribal division, 117 f., 141, 143, 159 ff.
-    Tribal migrations, 120, 138, 191, 488
-    Tribal organization, 117 ff., 132, 140 ff. 152
-    Tribal warfare, 119 f., 123, 125
-    _Tylor, Edward_, 205
-
-    Underworld, 397 ff., 402 ff.
-    Unity of the world, 483
-    Universalism, 492
-    _Usener, Hermann_, 361 f.
-
-    Vegetation ceremonies, 135 f., 189, 249, 418 ff.
-    Vegetation cults, 135, 243 ft, 250 f., 294, 418 ff.
-    Vegetation demons, 441
-    Vessels, 30, 49
-    _Vico, G._, 516
-    Vision, 407, 442
-    Vocations, Differentiation of, 311, 321 ff.
-    Votive offering, 438
-
-    Wagon, 292 ff.
-    Wants,
-      Freedom from, 110, 114;
-      Satisfaction of, 448 f.
-    Warfare, 33, 111, 209;
-      of the gods, 370, 388 f., 404 f.
-    Water,
-      Lustration by, 201 ff., 219 f., 252 f., 338, 443 ff.;
-      Trial by, 338
-    Weapons, 26 ff., 120, 124 f., 131, 133, 299
-    Week, 305
-    _Wergild_, 163, 339
-    _Westermann, D._, 58, 68
-    Wheel, 291 f.
-    Wife,
-      Chief, 45 f., 168 ff., 316;
-      Secondary, 45, 168 ff., 316
-    Wind instruments, 265 f.
-    Witchcraft, 338
-    Work-songs, 268 f., 461
-    World, Unity of the, 483
-    World culture, 477, 484 ff., 512
-    World destruction, Myths of, 391 f.
-    World empires, 476, 478 ff., 484 ff., 493, 512
-    World history, 474 f., 478, 509 ff.
-    World language, 487, 493
-    World religions, 10, 477, 491, 494 ff.
-    Writing, 486 f.
-
-
-
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