Chapter II · (continued 3)

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.