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 involvesthreeparties—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 representationsare 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-calledinitiation 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 occursat 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-callednose-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 reasonvegetation cultsdate back to the very beginnings of thetotemic 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 calledIntichiuma 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 fishtotem 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 bytrue cults of the soil. The latter presuppose the preparation of the soil by the efforts of man. This is clear from the fact that theyoccur 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 bythe 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 theprosperity 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 withhoe-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 theother 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 andharvest 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 withsowing, the latter primarily with theharvest. 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 cloudsis 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 andwinter 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 relieffrom 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 insacrifice to the dead. The dead are presented with gifts, which they carry along into a world beyond. Similarly, the magical sacrifice connected with vegetation festivals and their associated cults more and more ceases to be regarded as purely magical in nature and comes to be an offering to the deity whose favour is thereby sought.
Coincident with these changes in sacrificial usages, the cult community which develops in the course of the transitional stages of cult—the best representatives are the semi-cultural peoples of America—undergoes a more thorough organization. Separate associations are formed within the wider circle of cult membership. These severally assume the various functions involved in the cult; as a rule, they are under the guidance of priests. Even apart from their connection with these cult festivals, the priests serve as magic-priests and magic-doctors, and it is they who preserve the traditions of the general cult ceremonies as well as of the means requisite on the part of the individual for the exercise of this twofold profession. This represents the typical figure of themedicine-man. He is to be found even in primitive culture, but his function more and more changes from that of the ordinary magician into that of the priest. As such, he attains to a position of authority that is publicly acknowledged and protected. Associated with him is a restricted group of those cult members who are most familiar with the secrets of the cult, and are his immediate assistants in the festal ceremonies. It is these individuals that compose thesecret societies. These societies occur even among the tribes of the northern parts of America, and have their analogues particularly on the semi-cultural level which forms the threshold of the totemic age. Presumably they derive from the more primitive institution of men's clubs, within which the male members of a clan are united into age-groups. Membership in secret societies also continues to be limited to men, more especially to such as have reached a mature age. As tribal organization developed, and particularly as family bonds became firmer, age associations were dissolved. The association whichoriginally included all men gave way to more restricted societies. Besides this numerical limitation, there was naturally also a qualitative restriction. In the first place, those who thus deliberately segregated themselves from the total body were the privileged members of the tribal community, or at least such as laid claim to special prerogatives; these associations, furthermore, were formed for certain more specialized purposes connected with the particular needs of their members. The first of these considerations accounts for the respect, occasionally mingled with fear or reverence, which was accorded to these societies, a respect which was heightened by the secrecy in which they shrouded themselves. The fact that certain customs and traditions were surrounded with secrecy caused every such association to be organized into various ranks, graded according to the extent with which the individuals were familiar with the secret doctrines. This type of organization occurs as early as the associations of medicine-men among the Africans and the American Indians; later, it is to be found in connection with the Eleusynian and Orphic mysteries; it is represented also by the Christian and Buddhistic orders, and by their various secular counterparts, such as the Rosicrucians and the Freemasons. Not infrequently these societies, in contradiction to their secrecy, have special emblems indicative of membership and of rank. Among the American Indians, this purpose is generally served by special drawings on the body; in other places, by specific tattooings as well as by the wearing of distinctive dress. The second restriction of membership on the part of the secret society is connected with the limited purpose which the society serves. The men's club includes all the interests of the clan or tribal community; the secret society is held together by a specific aim or by a limited circle of related tasks. Here also it is universally true that these tasks are connected withcult, and are thus of a religious nature. Even the Greek phratries underwent a change of purpose analogous to that which occurred in the transition from the age-group to the secret society, for, afterlosing their earlier political significance, they continued to exist as cultural associations.
The men's group belongs exclusively to the totemic age. Secret societies, however, are organizations which, together with the cults that they maintain, belong to a stage transitional between totemic and deity cults. The emblems worn by the cult members are for the most part totemic; totemic also are the cult usages, and likewise, particularly among the American Indians, the name which the group adopts. The feathers of birds and the hides of other totem animals—the same as those which also adorn the festival altars—constitute a chief part of the dress. In addition to the general tribal festival in which they co-operate, these societies also maintain their special cults. It is particularly in these latter cults that ancient totemic survivals are in evidence. A remarkable example of such a totem group is the snake society of the Hopi Indians, who dwell, as do the Zuni and Navajos, in the regions of New Mexico. The totem animal of this society is the rattlesnake. In the snake festival, a procession is formed in which every member participates; each carries a rattlesnake in his mouth, holding it in his teeth directly back of its head. It is firmly believed that no snake will kill a member of the society which holds it sacred. Of course, as observers of the festival have noticed, an ingenious expedient is employed to avert the danger. Each snake-bearer is followed by an associate who diverts the attention of the snake by continually tickling its tail with a small stick. If a snake-bearer is bitten, as rarely occurs, his companion always sucks out the wound, by which act, as is well known, the snake-bite is rendered relatively innocuous.
The most prominent of the artistic activities of the totemic age isformative art. In this field, the lowest stages of totemic development show little advance beyond the achievements of primitive man. True, even Australia possessescave drawings which, perhaps have some sort of cult significance. As yet, however, we have not succeeded in interpreting these drawings. With this exception, the formative art of the totemic period is limited to carvings upon weapons or other implements—obviously thought, just as in primitive times, to possess magical potencies—and to the painting of the face on the occasion of cult festivals.
In the regions of Oceania, particularly the Polynesian Islands, we find a far richer development of that form of pictorial art which aims at the adornment of the body, or, as we ought rather to say with reference to the beginnings of this artistic practice, at the exercise on the part of the body of a magical influence upon external things. Polynesia is the chief centre ofartistic tattooing. Throughout these regions this practice has universally taken the form of prick tattooing. By means of separate, close-lying prick points filled with colour, various symmetrical designs are formed. This tattooing is the only art whose highest perfection is reached at the beginning of culture. As soon as clothing appears, the decoration of the body itself gives way to that of dress. On particular occasions, as, for example, in connection with certain cult practices of the American Indians, custom may continue to demand entire nakedness. Under these circumstances, there is a sort of retrogressive development in which the painting necessitated by the festivals takes the place of tattooing. This occurs even among the Australians. Moreover, even after clothing has appeared, it long remains a favourite custom to tattoo certain exposed parts of the skin, particularly the face and the arms and hands. Even to-day, indeed, the arms are sometimes tattooed. The fact that tattooing is now practised almost exclusively by criminals and prostitutes, and, occasionally, by sailors, finds its explanation in a circumstance which was also of influence at the time when tattooing was in its first flower, namely, in the interruption of occupational activity by long periods of leisure.
There is an additional factor which obviously favours the development of the art of tattooing, particularly in theterritory of the Polynesian Islands. I refer to the combination of totemism with celestial mythology, which is peculiar to these peoples, and to the consequent recedence of totemism. Particularly illuminative as regards this point is the tattooing of the Maoris. The mythology of this people gives an important place to the sun, and their bodily decorations frequently include pictures of this celestial body, in the form of spiral ornamentations. Some two years ago travelling investigators brought back copies of the tattooing of other islanders, particularly those of the Marquesas group. These tattoo-patterns contain many significant elements of a celestial mythology; those of to-day, however, in so far as the custom has not been entirely effaced by the Europeans, consist almost entirely of simple geometrical ornamentations. The tattooings of early times frequently included also representations of animals. Plants were less common, as might be expected from the fact that it was only later that they acquired importance for totemic cults. At the same time, it is evident that a sort of reversal took place as regards the pictorial representation of objects. This is even more striking in the tattooing of the American Indians, a tattooing restricted to certain parts of the body. In the preceding chapter the fact has already been noted that, among the primitive peoples of the pretotemic age, as, for example, the Semangs and Senoi of Malacca, the multiplication of simple parallel lines, triangles, arcs, etc., gives rise to plant-like and animal-like forms. Doubtless the primitive artist himself discovers such figures in his drawings and then sometimes consciously sets about to imitate more closely the actual forms of the natural objects. At the stage of development now under discussion, we find, conversely, that animal forms, particularly, are retranslated into geometrical objects in that they become, as we would to-day express it, more and more conventionalized. Since only the simplest outlines of the objects are retained, it may eventually become a matter of doubt whether these really are schematic representations of natural objects, and whether they are not, even from the very beginning, geometricalornamentations. Nevertheless the fact that there are continuous transitions from the developed animal form to the geometrical ornament, as occurs particularly in America, is incontrovertible proof that such a conventionalization took place, though in many cases, doubtless, very slowly. This process of conventionalization, however, may be more clearly traced in connection with a different art, one that is related to tattooing but whose development is not limited, as is that of the latter, and destined from the very outset to become obsolete. I refer toceramics, the art of decorating the vessels which were at first intended for the preservation, and later for the preparation, of food.
Even though the art of making pottery is not to be found in primitive culture proper, it nevertheless dates back to a very early age. It is not impossible that this age coincides approximately with the beginning of the totemic period. At any rate, it was totemic cult which, from earliest times on, furnished the motives for the decoration or—as is here also doubtless generally true of the early beginnings—for the magical protection of the vessels, or for the imparting of magical potencies to their contents. Doubtless the clay vessel was originally modelled partly after the natural objects that were used for storing food, and partly after the woven basket. The latter, in turn, may, in its beginnings, have been copied from the bird's nest. When it was discovered, probably accidentally, that clay is hardened by fire, the clay vessel came to be used not merely for the preservation of food but also for its preparation by means of fire. Or, perhaps it would be truer to say that the attempt to accomplish this latter purpose with the unhardened clay vessel led to the art of baking clay. Now, even before the art of making pottery was known, implements, weapons, women's combs, and even the body itself were marked with simple and regular linear drawings to which a magical significance was attached. These geometrical forms, which arose semi-accidentally, were, even from very early times, apperceived as the outlines of animal or plant forms, and it was under the influenceof these ideas that they attained a further development. Precisely the same process was repeated in the case of ceramics, only, as it were, upon a broader scale, challenging a richer play of imagination. It is precisely here, however, particularly in the ceramics of the American Indians, that we can trace the ascending and the descending developments of primitive linear drawings, first into completely developed animal designs with meagre suggestions of attempts at plant ornamentation, and then regressively, through a continued conventionalization, into purely geometrical figures. At the same time, it was ceramics, especially, that developed a combination of these two designs, the systematic arrangement of which marks the perfection of this art. Thus arose representations of natural objects framed in by geometrical ornamentations. In this respect also, tattooing furnished a preparation, even though imperfectly, for ceramics. In inner significance, moreover, the latter was a direct outgrowth of the former. By tattooing, man originally guarded his own person with protective magic; in ceramics, this magic was brought into connection with man's utensils, with the food necessary for his life, and with its preparation. In ceramics, therefore, just as in tattooing, the animals represented were at first primarilytotem animals. Among them we find particularly snakes, fish, and birds, and, in America, the alligator. Especially characteristic of the totemic age is the fact that the decorations scarcely ever include the representation of thehuman figure. It is by this mark that the art products, even of the earliest age of Greece, may be distinguished at first glance from those of totemic culture. In the former case, the human figure is introduced, either along with that of the animal or even alone; in the latter case, only animal representations occur. Strange to say, it is in onlyonerespect that the ceramics, more particularly of the American Indians, copy man—the vessel as a whole represents a head or a skull. Doubtless this is connected with the obnoxious custom of head-hunting. Just as the Indian adorns the roof of his hut with the heads of his conquered foes, so he perpetuatesthe memory of his feats of war in his ceramic objects. No portrayal of activities in which human beings participate, is to be found in the totemic age.
Connected with this, no doubt, is the lack of any realsculpture, with the exception of crude idols representing animal or human forms. These idols, on the whole, are of the nature of fetishes, and as such may, of course, be regarded as the precursors of the divine images of a later period. As there is no sculpture, so also is there, strictly speaking, noarchitecture. In this respect, again, there is a wide difference between this age and the succeeding one. In its higher forms, architecture presupposes gods who are worshipped in a temple. In the totemic period, however, there are no temples. True, the Australian preserves his magic wands and pieces of wood, the churingas, in caves or huts, but the latter differ in no wise from other huts. In the totemic age, therefore, man alone has a dwelling-place. Of such structures there are, in general,twotypes, theconicaland thespherical. The conical hut apparently had its origin in the tent. The rounded or beehive hut, as it has been called in Africa, may originally have been copied from a natural cave built in the sand. The two forms, moreover, are not always mutually exclusive. In winter, for example, the Esquimo of Behring Strait lives in a round hut made of snow; in summer, he pitches a tent. In Melanesia, Polynesia, and other regions, the erection of dwelling-places on the seashore or on the shores of large rivers led to thepole-hut, a modification which came to resemble the houses of later times. This hut, which is generally occupied jointly by several families, is erected on poles that are firmly driven into the ground and reach far up into the air. Such a pole-hut, even at this early age, develops the typical form of a commodious dwelling. One of the factors here operative is the institution of men's clubs, which is prevalent in these regions: the necessity that many individuals live together leads to the erection of buildings of considerable size. In this connection, we note a characteristic difference between the beginnings of architectonic art and that of theother arts. The latter, whether in the case of tattooing, ceramics, or the fetishistic precursors of sculpture, always originate in mythological and, primarily, in magical motives; the sole impetus to architecture is furnished by the immediate needs of practical life. Thus, then, it is not to religious impulses but to the social conditions which require that many individuals shall live together, that we must trace a more perfected technique of building than that of primitive times.
Much more nearly parallel to the development of the other forms of art is that of themusical arts, meaning by this all those arts which consist in the direct activity of man himself. The musical arts include the dance, poetry, and music, as well as the various combinations into which these enter with one another. Since it is the third of these arts, music, that manifests a particular tendency to combine with and to supplement the other two, all three may be comprehended under its name. This will also serve to suggest the fact that, just as the formative arts are closely related in that they give objective embodiment to the creations of the imagination, so also are the musical arts allied by virtue of their reliance on subjective expression. Of all these various arts, thedancepreserves the closest connection with the more primitive age. In the cult dance of the totemic period, however, the dance receives an extraordinarily rich development, reaching a stage of perfection comparable to that to which formative art attains in the external adornment of the body—that is, in tattooing. The dance and tattooing, indeed, are closely related, since nowhere else is thepersonal bodyso directly the object and the means of artistic activity. To the dances of the primitive period, however, the totemic dance addsoneexternal feature—themask—whose origin is directly due to totem belief. Even the Australians, of course, are not familiar with the mask-dance. They sometimes paint the face or mark it with single lines, and this may be regarded as the precursor of the mask; the mask itself however appears only in the later development of totemism, and continues farinto the succeeding age. Moreover, as regards its distribution, there are considerable differences. It plays its most important rôle in American and Polynesian regions, a less prominent one in Africa. In America, the mask-dance and the elevation of masks into cult objects, to which the mask-dance occasionally gives rise, extend from the Esquimos of the north far down to the south. Koch-Grünberg has given a clear picture of the mask-dances and the mask-cult of the natives of the Brazilian forests. Here the masks are not a secondary means of magic, as it were—much less an occasional object of adornment. Every mask is a sort of sacred object. When the youth attains to manhood, he receives a mask, which is sacred to him throughout his entire life. After the great cult festivals, which are celebrated with mask-dances, the masks are carefully preserved. In the mask there is supposed to reside the demon who is represented by it, and the fear of the demon is transferred to the mask. The dancing of this period consists primarily of the animal dance, which is a rhythmic imitation, often wonderfully skilful, of the movements of an animal. The mask also, therefore, always represents, in a more or less altered or grotesquely exaggerated form, an animal's head, or a being intermediate between animal and man, thus vividly calling to mind certain totemic legends whose heroes are sometimes animals and sometimes human beings. On the more advanced stages of totemic culture, there are also masks representing objects of external nature. Mention has already been made of the cloud masks used in the vegetation festivals of the Hopi and Zuni. The rain-priests of these tribes, with these masks on their heads and with pictures of zigzag lightning on their garments, are the living representatives of storm demons. Thus, the mask imparts to its wearer the character of the demon represented by it. The characteristics of face-masks, such as enormous beards and teeth, huge eyes, noses, etc., cause them, particularly, to be the living embodiments of the fear of demons, and thus to be themselves regarded as demoniacal beings. Whatever may be their more specific nature, whether, for example,they represent demons of sickness or of fertility, they always present the same fear-inspiring features. A certain diversity of expression is much more likely to come as a result of the external character of the dance in which the masks are used. This may give rise to expressions portraying surprise and astonishment, or the more lively emotions of fear, terror, or exalted joy. In the latter case, we must bear in mind that representations of grinning laughter differ in but a few characteristic marks from those of violent weeping.
Corresponding to these differences in the character of the masks that are worn, aretwomain forms of the dance, particularly of the cult dance. The first of these is theceremonial dance, which moves in slow and solemn rhythm. This is the dance that generally inaugurates the great cult festivals of the semi-cultural peoples of totemism or that accompanies certain of the chief features of the festival—such, for example, as the entrance and procession of the cloud-masked ancestral spirits in the vegetation festivals of New Mexico. Contrasting with the ceremonial dance are theecstatic dances, which for the most part form the climax of the festival. Only the men are allowed to take part in the ceremonial dances, and the same is generally true also of the ecstatic dances. The women, if not altogether excluded from the ceremonies, are either silent witnesses or accompany the dance with songs or screams. It is only in the more extreme form of the ecstatic-orgiastic dance that both sexes participate. The mixed dances probably arose in connection with the vegetation festivals, as a result of the relation which was thought to exist between the sexual emotions and the creative forces of nature. It was doubtless because of this late origin that the Greeks long continued to regard the dances of the Dionysian festivals, which were borrowed from Oriental cults and executed by women alone or by women and men together, as in part a degeneration of good custom. In the drama, whose origin was the mimetic dance, the rôle of women was taken by men.
Closely connected with the dance ismusic, the preparatory stage of which is constituted by the participationof the voice in the rhythm of the external movements of the body. These articulatory movements, which form a part of the mimicking activity of the face, supplement the dynamic rhythm of the dance with the melodic rise and fall of tones. The emotion which finds its outlet in the dance itself, then seeks a further enhancement through objective means. These means also involve the activity of the bodily organs; noises are produced by clapping the hands, by stamping on the ground, or by the rhythmic clash of sticks. In the latter case, the transition from instruments of noise to those of tone is easily made. The earliest forms of tone instruments are of two sorts, according as they copy the production of sound by external means, on the one hand, or by the vocal organs, in the accompanying tones, on the other. Thus, the two original forms of musical instruments areinstruments of concussionandwind instruments. In origin, these are directly connected with the dance. They are natural means of intensification created directly by the emotion, though later modified by systematic invention. The later development of musical art continues to remain in close relation to the two main forms of the dance, the solemn ceremonial and the ecstatic dance, between which there come to be numerous transitions. From the most primitive to the highest stages of music, we continually find two sorts of musical expression, thesustainedand theanimated. These correspond to the contrasting feelings of rest and excitement, which are experienced even by animals, and which man therefore doubtless carried with him from his natural state into his cultural life. With the progress of culture, these feelings constantly become more richly differentiated.
The totemic age may be said to include only the first few advances beyond the simple emotions already expressed in the dance. Nevertheless, there are ethnological differences that register in a very characteristic way those specific musical talents of the various races which are obscured on higher levels of culture because of the increasing complexity of international relations. Thus,Africa is apparently the chief centre, if not the original home, of instruments of concussion and of the great variety of stringed instruments that develop from them. America, on the other hand, is the region in which wind instruments, in particular their original form, the flute, have attained their chief development. The flute of the American Indians is not, of course, like our own; it is blown, not with the lips, but with the mouth. It therefore resembles a shawm or a clarinet. As regards production of tone, however, it is a flute, for the tone is produced by the extension of one lip over the other in a manner similar to that of the flute-pipes of our organs. That which distinguishes the sound of the flute and of its shorter form, the fife, from that of stringed instruments is primarily the greater intensity and the longer duration of the tone. Corresponding to the difference in musical instruments is that of the noise instruments which characterize the two regions. Africa possesses the drum. This it employs not only for purposes of accompaniment in cult ceremonies, but also as a means of signalling, since it renders distant communication possible by use of the so-called drum-language. In America, we find the rattle. Though this, of course, is not entirely lacking in Africa, it nevertheless occurs primarily within the cultural realm of the North American Indians. Here it is employed as an instrument of noise and magic, similarly to the bull-roarer of the Australians. As between the rattle and the drum, the difference is again one of the longer duration of sound in the case of the American instrument.
The tones produced by these early musical instruments, however, even those of the stringed instruments and their vocal accompaniment, by no means, of course, form harmonic music. On the contrary, harmony is an achievement of the succeeding age; it is here foreshadowed in only imperfect beginnings. Such beginnings, however, may everywhere be discerned in the records that we have of the melodies of the Soudan negroes and the American races. Nevertheless, most of the records that are as yet available are still of doubtful value. The auditor is too prone tofind in them his own musical experiences. For reliable data we must wait until, following the beginnings that have already been made, a greater number of such natural songs will have been objectively recorded by the aid of the phonograph. As yet we can only say that, if we may judge from their musical instruments, the Africans surpass all other natural peoples in musical talent. Their melodies ordinarily move within the range of about an octave, whereas those of the North American Indians seldom pass beyond a sixth. The fact of this small tonal compass will itself indicate that the melody of all natural peoples tends to very constant rhythms and intervals. The latter, moreover, show some similarity to those with which we are familiar. The chief characteristic of these songs, however, is their tendency toward repetition. One and the same motive frequently recurs with tiresome monotony. The melodies thus reflect certain universal characteristics of primitive poetry as they appear in the songs of the Veddahs and of other pretotemic tribes.
Nevertheless, the forms ofpoetryexhibit an important advance over those of the more primitive peoples just mentioned. Particularly in the case of thesong, we find that the simple expression of the moods directly aroused by nature is supplemented by a further important feature. This feature is closely bound up with that more lively bodily and mental activity of totemic culture which is reflected likewise in its use of implements and weapons. Karl Bücher was the first to point out that common labour gives rise to common songs, whose rhythm and melody are determined by the labour. The increasing diversity of the work results in a wider range of content and also in a richer differentiation of forms. Suchwork-songsare to be found throughout the entire totemic era, whereas, of course, they are lacking in the preceding age, in which common labour scarcely exists. Contemporaneously with the work-song, thecult-songmakes its appearance. The latter is essentially conditioned by the development of totemic ceremonies. As these become more numerous, the cult-song likewise gradually grows richer and more manifold, in close reciprocal relations with the danceand music. In the case of the cult-song, as well as of the work-song, the above-mentioned repetition of motives comes to exercise an important influence on the accompanying activity. Though different causes are operative in the two cases, these causes nevertheless ultimately spring from asinglesource—namely, the heightening of emotions. In the cult-song, man aims to bring his petitions and, as we may say for the earlier age, the magic which his words exercise, as forcibly as possible to the notice of the demons or, at a later period, of the gods whom he addresses. For this reason the same wish is repeated again and again. The most primitive form of cult-song generally consists of but a single wish repeated in rhythmic form. In the work-song, on the other hand, it is the constantly recurring rhythm of the work that leads directly to the repetition of the accompanying rhythmic and melodic motives. When one and the same external task becomes associated time and again with these accompanying songs, the two mutually reinforce each other. The song is a stimulus to the work, and the work heightens the emotion expressed in the song. Both results vary with the degree in which the song is adapted to the work and thus itself becomes a poetic representation of it. Here again neither plan nor purpose originally played the least part; the development was determined by the rhythmic and melodic motives immanent in the work.
Several brief illustrations may serve to give us a clear picture of what has been said. The first is a cult-song of American origin. Again we turn to the cult usages of one of the tribes of New Mexico, the Sia. The motif of the song, which is rain-magic, furnishes the material for very many of the ceremonies of these regions. The song of the rain-priests is as follows:—
All ye fluttering clouds,All ye clouds, cherish the fields,All ye lightnings and thunders, rainbows andcloud-peoples,Come and labour for us.
This song is repeated again and again without change of motif—it is a conjuration in the form of a song.
The snake society of the Hopi, to which we have already referred, has a similar song, which it sings with musical accompaniment. It runs as follows:—
Oh, snake society of the North, come and labour for us,Snake society of the South, of the West, snake society of theZenith and of the Nadir,Come hither and labour for us.
The fact that the snake societies of the Zenith and Nadir are invoked makes it clear that this song is not, as it were, an appeal addressed to other societies of human beings. There are, of course, none such at the Zenith or the Nadir. The song is obviously directed to a demon society conceived as similar to human cult associations. It petitions for assistance in the preparation of the field and for a successful harvest.
The repetitions in such cases as these are always due to the fact that the songs are conjurations. Not so with the work-song. This is generally the expression of a greater diversity of motives, as is shown by the following lines taken from a song of the Maoris of New Zealand. The song is one which they sing while transporting trunks of trees to the coast:—
Give more room,Joyous folk, give room for the totara,Joyous folk,Give me the maro.*****************************Slide on, slide on!Slip along, slip along!Joyous folk! etc.
'Totara' and 'maro' are the names of trees that they have felled. In its rhythm and its repetitions, the song gives us a direct portrayal of the work itself.
These song-forms are still entirely the product of external motives and never arise under the independent and immediate influence of subjective moods. Far superiorto them is another field of literary composition, thenarrative. The totemic age, particularly, has produced a great variety of forms of narrative. Predominant among these is themärchen-myth, a narrative which resembles the fairy-tale and which, as a rule, continues during this period to be of the nature of a credited myth. It is a prose narrative circulated by word of mouth, in which manner it sometimes traverses wide regions. With occasional changes or in connection with different mythical ideas it may survive many generations. So far as these general characteristics are concerned, the märchen, indeed, is the most permanent of all forms of literary composition. It extends from the most primitive levels of culture down to the present. In the form of the märchen-myth, however, it is especially characteristic of the totemic age. We now possess numerous collections of such tales from the most diverse regions of totemic as well as of later civilizations. An Englishwoman, Mrs. Parker, has brought together a number of Australian tales, and these have been augmented in more recent times, particularly through the labours of the German missionary Strehlow. Strehlow has a great advantage over most of the other Australian investigators in being familiar with the languages of the tribes among whom he lives. Valuable material regarding America and Africa has been gathered particularly by American and English travellers; data, furthermore, are not lacking concerning the natural and cultural peoples of other parts of the earth. Moreover, comparative research has for some time past studied the märchen with the primary purpose of determining to what localities the materials of the märchen and the fable have spread, and thus, in turn, of learning the early cultural relations of peoples. This investigation of the märchen, however, has, for the most part, suffered from a false preconception. The criterion by which we judge present-day tales of this sort was applied to märchen-fiction in general. The märchen-myths of primitive peoples, therefore, were regarded either as creations of individuals and as never having been credited, or, at best, as retrogressive forms of higher types of myth—particularly of nature myths—adaptedto the needs of childlike comprehension. A closer investigation of the märchen-myths of relatively primitive peoples has rendered this theory absolutely untenable. True, retrogressive forms occasionally occur in this as well as in most other sorts of myth and of literary composition. Nevertheless, there is no longer any room for doubt that, on the one hand, the earliest products of narrative composition were all of the nature of the märchen, and that, on the other hand, most primitive märchen-fictions werecredited myths. An attempt to arrive at the sources of the most common motifs of the märchen of different peoples and ages will reveal the fact that the majority of them must undoubtedly be traced to the totemic age. Such was the environment, certainly, in which the earliest narrative had its setting, particularly in so far as it was believed to report truths of history.
The early myth narrative was of the general character of the märchen primarily in that it was not, as a rule, restricted to a specific time or place. This also differentiates the folk märchen of to-day from the saga. An occasional exception is offered by the anthropogenic legends of peoples of nature, although these also are in other respects of the nature of the märchen. A second essential characteristic of the märchen is the fact that magical agencies play a rôle in the determination of events. This is true even of present-day folk märchen, and is due to the circumstance that the primitive märchen arose in an age which was still entirely under the dominance of magical beliefs. These beliefs, which influenced all phases of the activity of primitive man, also caused the magical märchen to be credited either in their entirety or at least in great part. All the narratives of this age, however, bear the characteristics of the märchen, as these have just been indicated, or, at any rate, it is at most only occasionally, in the primitive legend, that they approximate to the saga. It follows, therefore, that the development of the myth in general begins with the märchen-myth. Here also the development proceeds from below upwards, and not the reverse.
But even though the beginnings of the märchen-mythdoubtless date back to primitive man, the flower of the development is undeniably to be found in the totemic age. For it is to this age that all those characteristics point that are still to be found, as survivals of the totemic period, in present-day märchen and children's fairy-tales. Of such characteristics, we might mention primarily the magical causality which the action involves—a point to which we have already referred—and also the rôle assigned to theanimal, which is portrayed either as the helper and benefactor of man or, at the least, as like him in nature. The latter resemblance appears particularly in the fact that marriages are frequently represented as taking place between man and animals; furthermore, transformations of men into animals are said to occur, and retransformations of the latter into men. In these totemic märchen we very seldom find man to the exclusion of animals; just as little, moreover, do animals appear alone. Both the animal fable and the märchen which deals exclusively with human beings, are products of a later development and belong to a period in which the märchen is no longer credited. Even more truly, however, do these primitive märchen lack the moral lessons which are taught by the stories of later times, particularly by the fable. Nevertheless, those fable märchen which are generally called 'explicative' because they explain the traits of certain animals, still generally bear the marks of the totemic age, even though they apparently belong to one of its somewhat later periods. An example of this is the tale of the American Indians of the North-west, according to which the crow became black through being burned by the sun while stealing celestial fire; or the tale of the Bantus, which explains that the rabbit acquired the cleft in his lip as the result of a blow once dealt him by the man in the moon.
The most primitive märchen lacks all such intellectualistic motives. It recounts an event without any discernible purpose or without bringing the action to any natural conclusion. The following Australian märchen may serve as an illustration: 'Several women go out into thefield with their children to gather grass seed. There they meet a magpie. It offers to watch the children while the women are gathering the seeds. They leave the children with the magpie. When they return, however, the children have disappeared. The magpie has hidden them in a hollow tree. The women hear the children crying, but do not know where they are, and return home without them. The magpie has disappeared.' Such a narrative is strikingly similar, in its lack of aim, to the songs of primitive peoples. Markedly superior is the märchen-fiction found among other natural peoples of totemic culture. These tales gradually develop a closer connection between the events. It is now that the märchen hero makes his appearance, and it is with him, particularly, that the events are associated. This hero is not of course, similar to the one of the later hero saga, who gains distinction by his strength, cleverness, and other qualities. He is a magic-hero, in control of magical forces. The latter are frequently represented as communicated to him by an animal which he meets, or by an old woman; more rarely, he is said to receive them from a male magician. A further characteristic of the childhood period of the märchen-fiction is the fact that the hero himself is almost always a child. A youth sets forth on adventure, meets with magical experiences, returns home, and generally benefits his tribe through certain possessions that he has acquired on his journey. Here, again, animals play a supporting rôle. Rich collections of such märchen have been gathered, particularly in America. One of the tales of the Pawnee tribe of prairie Indians runs as follows: 'A young man did not join his companions in their sports, but went alone into the forest. One day he returned with a buffalo cow which had become his wife and had borne him a buffalo calf. But the very moment that the wife and calf entered the hut of the man they were transformed into human beings. Nevertheless, a cloud of magic hung over the man. If the child were to fall to the floor, it would be changed back into a buffalo calf. Now, this misfortune actually came to pass, and the mother was also again changed into a buffalo cow. Sadly the young manthen went with them into the forest, where he himself became a buffalo and for a time lived quietly with the buffalo herd. Suddenly he again returned home, transformed into a man. But he had learned from the buffaloes how one must set about to lure them forth in order to hunt them. This secret he imparted to his fellow-tribesmen, and since that time the tribe has enjoyed plenty of buffalo meat.' This is a buffalo legend which tells of a sort of compact between the tribe and the buffaloes. That the legend, moreover, is not a mere märchen in our sense of the term, has been strikingly shown by Dorsey, to whom we owe the collection of Pawnee tales from which this story is taken. The tale is still recounted by the Pawnees when they wish the buffalo to appear for the hunt. Thus, it is a magical märchen, not only in that it deals with magical events but also in that its narration is supposed to exercise magical powers. This naturally presupposes that it is credited.