[1]transcribers' note: "causal" is probably meant here.
[1]transcribers' note: "causal" is probably meant here.
Soul ideas, as we have already noted, constitute the basis of totem belief, and may thus be said to date back into the pretotemic age, even though it is obviously only within the totemic period that they attain to their more complete development. If we include the whole of the broad domain of soul belief under the termanimism, the latter, in its many diverse forms, may be said to extend from the most primitive to the highest levels of culture. It is fitting, however, to enter upon a connected account of animism at this point, because the development of the main forms of soul belief and of their transformations takes place within the totemic age. Moreover, not only is totemismclosely dependent from the very beginning upon soul conceptions, but the development of soul conceptions is to an equal degree affected by totemism.
Soul belief, thus, constitutes an imperishable factor in all mythology and religion. This accounts for the fact that there are some mythologists as well as certain psychologists of religion who actually trace all mythology and religion to animism, believing that soul ideas first gave rise to demon and ancestor cults, and then to the worship of the gods. This view is maintained by Edward Tylor, Herbert Spencer, Julius Lippert, and a number of others. Undeniable as it is that soul belief has exerted an important influence upon mythological and religious thought, it nevertheless represents but one factor among others. For this very reason, however, we must consider separately its own peculiar conditions, since it is thus alone that we can gain an understanding of its relation to the other factors of mythological thought. The fittest place for examining this general interconnection is just at this point, where we are in the very midst of totemic ideas, and where we encounter the transformations of soul ideas in a specially pronounced form. Everything goes to show that the most important change in the history of the development of soul belief falls within the totemic period. This change consists in the distinction between a soul that is bound to the body, and which, because of this permanent attachment, we will briefly call thecorporeal soul, and a soul which may leave the body and continue its existence independently of it. Moreover, according to an idea particularly peculiar to the totemic age, this latter soul may become embodied in other living beings, especially in animals, but also in plants, and even in inanimate objects. We will call this soulpsyche, the breath or shadow soul. It is a breath soul because it was the exhalation of the breath, perhaps, that first suggested these ideas; it is a shadow soul since it was the dream image, in particular, that gave to this soul the form of a shadowy, visible but intangible, counterpart of man. As a fleeting form, rapidly appearing and again disappearing, the shadowsoul is a variety of breath soul. The two readily pass over into each other, and are therefore regarded as one and the same psyche.
There is ground for the conjecture that the distinction between these two main forms of the soul, the corporeal and the breath or shadow soul, is closely bound up with the changed culture of the totemic age. Primitive man flees from the corpse—indeed, even from those who are sick, if he sees that death is approaching. The corpse is left where it lies, and even the mortally ill are abandoned in their helpless condition. The living avoid the places where death has entered. All this changes in an age that has become familiar with struggle and death, and particularly with the sudden death which follows upon the use of weapons. This is exemplified even by the natives of Australia, who are armed with spear and shield. The warrior who falls before the deadly weapon, whose blood flows forth, and who expires in the midst of his fellow-combatants, arouses an entirely different impression from the man of the most primitive times who dies in solitude, and from whose presence the living flee. In addition to the original ideas of a soul that is harboured in the body, and that after death wanders about the neighbourhood as an invisible demon, we now have a further set of ideas. The soul is believed to leave the body in the form of the blood. But it may take an even more sudden departure, being sometimes supposed to leave in the last breath. In this case, it is held to be directly perceptible as a small cloud or a vapour, or as passing over into some animal that is swift of movement or possesses such characteristics as arouse an uncanny feeling. This idea of a breath soul readily leads to the belief that the psyche, after its separation from the body, appears in the dream image, again temporarily assuming, in shadowy form, the outlines of its original body.
Now the most remarkable feature of this entire development is the fact that the idea of the corporeal soul in no wise disappears, as one might suppose, with the origin of the breath or shadow soul. On the contrary, both continueto exist without any mutual interference. This is noticeable particularly in the case of death in war. The belief that the soul leaves the body with the blood may here be directly combined with the belief that it departs with the breath, though the two ideas fall under entirely different categories. Even in Homer this combination of ideas is still clearly in evidence. The breath soul is said to descend to Hades, there to continue its unconscious existence as a dreamlike shadow, while at the same time the corporeal soul is thought to inhere not only in the blood but also in other parts of the body. Certain particular organs of the body are held to be vehicles of the soul; among these are the heart, the respiratory organs, and the diaphragm, the latter probably in connection with the immediately adjacent kidneys, which these primitive soul ideas usually represent as an important centre of soul powers. The believer in animism was not in the least aware of any contradiction in holding, as he did for a long time, that these two forms, the corporeal soul and the breath soul, exist side by side. His concern was not with concepts that might be scientifically examined in such a way as to effect a reconciliation of the separate ideas or a resolution of their contradictions. Even the ancient Egyptians, with their high civilization, preserved a firm belief in a corporeal soul, and upon this belief they based their entire practice of preserving bodies by means of embalmment. The reason for leaving the mouth of the mummy open was to enable the deceased person to justify himself before the judge of the dead. That the mummy was very carefully enclosed in its burial chamber and thus removed from the sphere of intercourse of the living, indicates a survival of the fear of demoniacal power which is characteristic of the beginnings of soul belief. The Egyptians, however, also developed the idea of a purely spiritual soul. The latter was held to exist apart from the body in a realm of the dead, from which it was supposed occasionally to return to the mummy. It was by this simple expedient of an intercourse between the various souls that mythological thought here resolved the contradiction between unity and multiplicityas affecting its soul concepts—a contradiction which even later frequently claimed the attention of philosophy.
When, on a more advanced cultural level, the structure of the body came to be more closely observed, a strong impetus was given towards a progressive differentiation of the corporeal soul. Certain parts of the body, in particular, were singled out as vehicles of the soul. Those that are separable from the body, such, for example, as certain secretions and the products of growth, received a sort of intermediate position between the corporeal soul proper and the breath soul. Chief among these was the blood. Among some peoples, particularly the Bantus of South Africa, the saliva rivals the blood in importance, possibly because of the readily suggested association with the soul that departs in the vapour of the breath. The blood soul, however, is by far the most universal and most permanent of these ideas. In its after-effects it has survived even down to the present. For, when we speak of a 'blood relationship' uniting those persons who stand close to one another through ancestry, the word 'blood' doubtless represents a sort of reminiscence of the old idea of a blood soul. To the dispassionate eye of the physiologist, the blood is one of the most unstable elements of the body, so that, so far as the blood is concerned, the father and mother certainly transmit nothing of a permanent nature to their descendants. More stable parts of the organism are much more likely to be inherited. But, in spite of the fact that blood is one of the most transitory of structures, it continues to be regarded as the vehicle of the relationship existing between members of a family, and even between tribally related nations. More striking expressions of the idea of a blood soul are to be found on primitive levels. In concluding the so-called blood brotherhood, the exchange of blood, according to prevalent belief, mediates the establishment of an actual blood relationship. In accordance with a custom which probably sprang up independently in many different parts of the earth, each of the two parties to the compact, upon entering this brotherhood, took a drop of blood from asmall, 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,twoorgan complexes, in addition to theblood, 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 externalsexual organs, and that the latter long continued to retain the dominant importance. Thus, thephallus 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 thepsyche, 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 abreath 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 maypass 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'sÆneidcontains 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 againunited; 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 thefetish. 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 thehuman 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 thedisposition 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 corpsechanges, 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 AmericanIndian 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 isgrounded 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.Cremationwas 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, onthe 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 himselfmight 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.
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.fétichefrom 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 isinseparable fromthe 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, asis 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 weregradually 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 complexityof 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 entirelywithin 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. Italways 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, theamuletand thetalisman. 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-workingsubject, 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 infrequentlyamulets 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 itspassivefunction, 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 anactivemeans 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 theTischlein-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 tosupport 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; theTischlein-deck-dichof 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.
The ideas fundamental to the cult ofhuman 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 purelya prioripsychology of religion still entertained the supposition, rooted in Biblical tradition, of an original state of puremonotheism. 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 ahumanancestor has been formed. This never occurs—a fact of prime importance as concerns its development—until thetotem ancestorhas 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 theindividual; 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 thesame 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 ahumanancestor 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 thanmerely 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 oflivingancestors, 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 natureattributes 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—aregods 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 thedisposition 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 Romandii 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 thefamilycomes 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 tothe 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 ofgod-ideas. One of the essential characteristics of gods is precisely the fact that they arepersonalbeings; 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.
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 asacrifice 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 intendedprimarily 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.