Owing to its nature, our study will include two parts.
Since every religion is made up of intellectual conceptions
and ritual practices, we must deal successively with the beliefs
and rites which compose the totemic religion. These two elements
of the religious life are too closely connected with each other
to allow of any radical separation. In principle, the cult is
derived from the beliefs, yet it reacts upon them; the myth
is frequently modelled after the rite in order to account for it,
especially when its sense is no longer apparent. On the other
hand, there are beliefs which are clearly manifested only through
the rites which express them. So these two parts of our analysis
cannot fail to overlap. However, these two orders of facts are
so different that it is indispensable to study them separately.
And since it is impossible to understand anything about a
religion while unacquainted with the ideas upon which it rests,
we must seek to become acquainted with these latter first
of all.
But it is not our intention to retrace all the speculations into
which the religious thought, even of the Australians alone, has
run. The things we wish to reach are the elementary notions
at the basis of the religion, but there is no need of following them
through all the development, sometimes very confused, which
the mythological imagination of these peoples has given them.
We shall make use of myths when they enable us to understand
these fundamental ideas better, but we shall not make mythology
itself the subject of our studies. In so far as this is a work of art,
it does not fall within the jurisdiction of the simple science of
religions. Also, the intellectual evolution from which it results
is of too great a complexity to be studied indirectly and from a
foreign point of view. It constitutes a very difficult problem
which must be treated by itself, for itself and with a method
peculiar to itself.
Among the beliefs upon which totemism rests, the most important
are naturally those concerning the totem; it is with
these that we must begin.
At the basis of nearly all the Australian tribes we find a group
which holds a preponderating place in the collective life: this is
the clan. Two essential traits characterize it.
In the first place, the individuals who compose it consider
themselves united by a bond of kinship, but one which is of a
very special nature. This relationship does not come from the
fact that they have definite blood connections with one another;
they are relatives from the mere fact that they have the same
name. They are not fathers and mothers, sons or daughters,
uncles or nephews of one another in the sense which we now give
these words; yet they think of themselves as forming a single
family, which is large or small according to the dimensions of
the clan, merely because they are collectively designated by the
same word. When we say that they regard themselves as a
single family, we do so because they recognize duties towards
each other which are identical with those which have always
been incumbent upon kindred: such duties as aid, vengeance,
mourning, the obligation not to marry among themselves, etc.
By this first characteristic, the clan does not differ from the
Roman gens or the Greek γένος; for this relationship also came
merely from the fact that all the members of the gens had the
same name,[215] the nomen gentilicium. And in one sense, the gens
is a clan; but it is a variety which should not be confounded
with the Australian clan.[216] This latter is distinguished by the
fact that its name is also the name of a determined species of
material things with which it believes that it has very particular
relations, the nature of which we shall presently describe; they
are especially relations of kinship. The species of things which
serves to designate the clan collectively is called its totem. The
totem of the clan is also that of each of its members.
Each clan has its totem, which belongs to it alone; two different
clans of the same tribe cannot have the same. In fact, one is a
member of a clan merely because he has a certain name. All
who bear this name are members of it for that very reason; in
whatever manner they may be spread over the tribal territory,
they all have the same relations of kinship with one another.[217]
Consequently, two groups having the same totem can only be
two sections of the same clan. Undoubtedly, it frequently
happens that all of a clan does not reside in the same locality,
but has representatives in several different places. However,
this lack of a geographical basis does not cause its unity to be
the less keenly felt.
In regard to the word totem, we may say that it is the one
employed by the Ojibway, an Algonquin tribe, to designate the
sort of thing whose name the clan bears.[218] Although this expression
is not at all Australian,[219] and is found only in one single society in
America, ethnographers have definitely adopted it, and use it
to denote, in a general way, the system which we are describing.
Schoolcraft was the first to extend the meaning of the word thus
and to speak of a "totemic system."[220] This extension, of which
there are examples enough in ethnography, is not without inconveniences.
It is not normal for an institution of this importance
to bear a chance name, taken from a strictly local dialect,
and bringing to mind none of the distinctive characteristics of
the thing it designates. But to-day this way of employing the
word is so universally accepted that it would be an excess of
purism to rise against this usage.[221]
In a very large proportion of the cases, the objects which
serve as totems belong either to the animal or the vegetable
kingdom, but especially to the former. Inanimate things are
much more rarely employed. Out of more than 500 totemic
names collected by Howitt among the tribes of south-eastern
Australia, there are scarcely forty which are not the names of
plants or animals; these are the clouds, rain, hail, frost, the
moon, the sun, the wind, the autumn, the summer, the winter,
certain stars, thunder, fire, smoke, water or the sea. It is noticeable
how small a place is given to celestial bodies and, more
generally, to the great cosmic phenomena, which were destined
to so great a fortune in later religious development. Among all
the clans of which Howitt speaks, there were only two which
had the moon as totem,[222] two the sun,[223] three a star,[224] three the
thunder,[225] two the lightning.[226] The rain is a single exception; it,
on the contrary, is very frequent.[227]
These are the totems which can be spoken of as normal. But
totemism has its abnormalities as well. It sometimes happens
that the totem is not a whole object, but the part of an object.
This fact appears rather rarely in Australia;[228] Howitt cites only
one example.[229] However, it may well be that this is found with
a certain frequency in the tribes where the totemic groups are
excessively subdivided; it might be said that the totems had to
break themselves up in order to be able to furnish names to these
numerous divisions. This is what seems to have taken place
among the Arunta and the Loritja. Strehlow has collected 442
totems in these two societies, of which many are not an animal
species, but some particular organ of the animal of the species,
such as the tail or stomach of an opossum, the fat of the kangaroo,
etc.[230]
We have seen that normally the totem is not an individual,
but a species or a variety: it is not such and such a kangaroo or
crow, but the kangaroo or crow in general. Sometimes, however,
it is a particular object. First of all, this is necessarily the case
when the thing serving as totem is unique in its class, as the sun,
the moon, such or such a constellation, etc. It also happens that
clans take their names from certain geographical irregularities or
depressions of the land, from a certain ant-hill, etc. It is true
that we have only a small number of examples of this in Australia;
but Strehlow does mention some.[231] But the very causes which
have given rise to these abnormal totems show that they are of a
relatively recent origin. In fact, what has made certain geographical
features of the land become totems is that a mythical
ancestor is supposed to have stopped there or to have performed
some act of his legendary life there.[232] But at the same time, these
ancestors are represented in the myths as themselves belonging
to clans which had perfectly regular totems, that is to say, ones
taken from the animal or vegetable kingdoms. Therefore, the
totemic names thus commemorating the acts and performances
of these heroes cannot be primitive; they belong to a form of
totemism that is already derived and deviated. It is even
permissible to ask if the meteorological totems have not
a similar origin; for the sun, the moon and the stars are
frequently identified with the ancestors of the mythological
epoch.[233]
Sometimes, but no less exceptionally, it is an ancestor or a group
of ancestors which serves as totem directly. In this case, the clan
takes its name, not from a thing or a species of real things, but
from a purely mythical being. Spencer and Gillen had already
mentioned two or three totems of this sort. Among the Warramunga
and among the Tjingilli there are clans which bear the name
of an ancestor named Thaballa who seems to be gaiety incarnate.[234]
Another Warramunga clan bears the name of a huge fabulous
serpent named Wollunqua, from which the clan considers itself
descended.[235] We owe other similar facts to Strehlow.[236] In any
case, it is easy enough to see what probably took place. Under
the influence of diverse causes and by the very development of
mythological thought, the collective and impersonal totem
became effaced before certain mythical personages who advanced
to the first rank and became totems themselves.
Howsoever interesting these different irregularities may be,
they contain nothing which forces us to modify our definition
of a totem. They are not, as has sometimes been believed,[237]
different varieties of totems which are more or less irreducible
into each other or into the normal totem, such as we have defined
it. They are merely secondary and sometimes even aberrant
forms of a single notion which is much more general, and there is
every ground for believing it the more primitive.
The manner in which the name is acquired is more important
for the organization and recruiting of the clan than for religion;
it belongs to the sociology of the family rather than to religious
sociology.[238] So we shall confine ourselves to indicating summarily
the most essential principles which regulate the matter.
In the different tribes, three different systems are in use.
In a great number, or it might even be said, in the greater
number of the societies, the child takes the totem of its mother,
by right of birth: this is what happens among the Dieri and the
Urabunna of the centre of Southern Australia; the Wotjobaluk
and the Gournditch-Mara of Victoria; the Kamilaroi, the Wiradjuri,
the Wonghibon and the Euahlayi of New South Wales; and
the Wakelbura, the Pitta-Pitta and the Kurnandaburi of Queensland,
to mention only the most important names. In this case,
owing to a law of exogamy, the mother is necessarily of a different
totem from her husband, and on the other hand, as she lives in
his community, the members of a single totem are necessarily
dispersed in different localities according to the chances of their
marriages. As a result, the totemic group lacks a territorial
base.
Elsewhere the totem is transmitted in the paternal line. In
this case, if the child remains with his father, the local group is
largely made up of people belonging to a single totem; only the
married women there represent foreign totems. In other words,
each locality has its particular totem. Up until recent times,
this scheme of organization was found in Australia only among
the tribes where totemism was in decadence, such as the Narrinyeri,
where the totem has almost no religious character at all
any more.[239] It was therefore possible to believe that there was
a close connection between the totemic system and descent in
the uterine line. But Spencer and Gillen have observed, in the
northern part of central Australia, a whole group of tribes where
the totemic religion is still practised but where the transmission
of the totem is in the paternal line: these are the Warramunga,
the Quanji, the Umbia, the Binbinga, the Mara and the Anula.[240]
Finally, a third combination is the one observed among the
Arunta and Loritja. Here the totem of the child is not necessarily
either that of the mother or that of the father; it is that of a
mythical ancestor who came, by processes which the observers
recount in different ways,[241] and mysteriously fecundated the
mother at the moment of conception. A special process makes
it possible to learn which ancestor it was and to which totemic
group he belonged.[242] But since it was only chance which determined
that this ancestor happened to be near the mother,
rather than another, the totem of the child is thus found to
depend finally upon fortuitous circumstances.[243]
Outside of and above the totems of clans there are totems of
phratries which, though not differing from the former in nature,
must none the less be distinguished from them.
A phratry is a group of clans which are united to each other
by particular bonds of fraternity. Ordinarily the Australian
tribe is divided into two phratries between which the different
clans are distributed. Of course there are some tribes where this
organization has disappeared, but everything leads us to believe
that it was once general. In any case, there are no tribes in
Australia where the number of phratries is greater than two.
Now in nearly all the cases where the phratries have a name
whose meaning has been established, this name is that of an
animal; it would therefore seem that it is a totem. This has
been well demonstrated in a recent work by A. Lang.[244] Thus,
among the Gournditch (Victoria), the phratries are called
Krokitch and Kaputch; the former of the words designates the
white cockatoo and the latter the black cockatoo.[245] The same
expressions are found again among the Buandik and the Wotjobaluk.[246]
Among the Wurunjerri, the names employed are Bunjil
and Waang, which designate the eagle-hawk and the crow.[247]
The words Mukwara and Kilpara are used for the same purpose
in a large number of tribes of New South Wales;[248] they designate
the same birds.[249] It is also the eagle-hawk and the crow which
have given their names to the two phratries of the Ngarigo and
the Wolgal.[250] Among the Kuinmurbura, it is the white cockatoo
and the crow.[251] Many other examples might be cited. Thus we
are led to regard the phratry as an ancient clan which has been
dismembered; the actual clans are the product of this dismemberment,
and the solidarity which unites them is a souvenir of their
primitive unity.[252] It is true that in certain tribes, the phratries
no longer have special names, as it seems; in others where these
names exist, their meaning is no longer known, even to the
members. But there is nothing surprising in this. The phratries
are certainly a primitive institution, for they are everywhere in a
state of regression; their descendants the clans have passed to
the first rank. So it is but natural that the names which they
bore should have been effaced from memory little by little,
when they were no longer understood; for they must belong
to a very archaic language no longer in use. This is proved by
the fact that in many cases where we know the animal whose
name the phratry bears, the word designating this animal in the
current language is very different from the one employed here.[253]
Between the totem of the phratry and the totems of the clans
there exists a sort of relation of subordination. In fact, in
principle each clan belongs to one and only one phratry; it is
very exceptional that it has representatives in the other phratry.
This is not met with at all except among certain central tribes,
notably the Arunta;[254] also even where, owing to disturbing
influences, overlappings of this sort have taken place, the great
part of the clan is included entirely within one or the other of the
two groups of the tribe; only a small minority is to be found in
the other one.[255] As a rule then, the two phratries do not overlap
each other; consequently, the list of totems which an individual
may have is predetermined by the phratry to which he belongs.
In other words, the phratry is like a species of which the clans
are varieties. We shall presently see that this comparison is not
purely metaphorical.
In addition to the phratries and clans, another secondary group
is frequently met with in Australian societies, which is not without
a certain individuality: these are the matrimonial classes.
By this name they designate certain subdivisions of the
phratry, whose number varies with the tribe: there are sometimes
two and sometimes four per phratry.[256] Their recruiting and
operation are regulated by the two following principles. In the
first place, each generation in a phratry belongs to different
clans from the immediately preceding one. Thus, when there
are only two classes per phratry, they necessarily alternate
with each other every generation. The children make up the
class of which their parents are not members; but grandchildren
are of the same class as their grandparents. Thus, among the
Kamilaroi, the Kupathin phratry has two classes, Ippai and
Kumbo; the Dilby phratry, two others which are called Murri
and Kubbi. As descent is in the uterine line, the child is in the
phratry of its mother; if she is a Kupathin, the child will be
one also. But if she is of the Ippai class, he will be a Kumbo;
if the child is a girl, her children will again be in the Ippai class.
Likewise, the children of the women of the Murri class will be
in the Kubbi class, and the children of the Kubbi women will be
Murri again. When there are four classes per phratry, instead of
two, the system is naturally more complex, but the principle is
the same. The four classes form two couples of two classes each,
and these two classes alternate with each other every generation
in the manner just indicated. Secondly, the members of one
class can in principle[257] marry into only one of the classes of the
other phratry. The Ippai must marry into the Kubbi class and
the Murri into the Kumbo class. It is because this organization
profoundly affects matrimonial relations that we give the group
the name of matrimonial class.
Now it may be asked whether these classes do not sometimes
have totems like the phratries and clans.
This question is raised by the fact that in certain tribes of
Queensland, each matrimonial class has dietetic restrictions that
are peculiar to it. The individuals who compose it must abstain
from eating the flesh of certain animals which the others may
consume freely.[258] Are these animals not totems?
But dietetic restrictions are not the characteristic marks of
totemism. The totem is a name first of all, and then, as we shall
see, an emblem. Now in the societies of which we just spoke,
there are no matrimonial classes which bear the name of an
animal or plant, or which have an emblem.[259] Of course it is
possible that these restrictions are indirectly derived from
totemism. It might be supposed that the animals which these
interdictions protect were once the totems of clans which have
since disappeared, while the matrimonial classes remained. It
is certain that they have a force of endurance which the clans
do not have. Then these interdictions, deprived of their original
field, may have spread themselves out over the entire class,
since there were no other groups to which they could be attached.
But it is clear that if this regulation was born of totemism, it
represents only an enfeebled and denatured form of it.[260]
All that has been said of the totem in Australian societies is
equally applicable to the Indian tribes of North America. The
only difference is that among these latter, the totemic organization
has a strictness of outline and a stability which are not found in
Australia. The Australian clans are not only very numerous,
but in a single tribe their number is almost unlimited. Observers
cite some of them as examples, but without ever succeeding in
giving us a complete list. This is because the list is never definitely
terminated. The same process of dismemberment which broke
up the original phratries and give birth to clans properly so-called
still continues within these latter; as a result of this progressive
crumbling, a clan frequently has only a very small effective
force.[261] In America, on the contrary, the totemic system has
better defined forms. Although the tribes there are considerably
larger on the average, the clans are less numerous. A single
tribe rarely has more than a dozen of them,[262] and frequently less;
each of them is therefore a much more important group. But
above all, their number is fixed; they know their exact number,
and they it tell to us.[263]
This difference is due to the superiority of their social economy.
From the moment when these tribes were observed for the first
time, the social groups were strongly attached to the soil, and
consequently better able to resist the decentralizing forces which
assailed them. At the same time, the society had too keen a
sentiment of its unity to remain unconscious of itself and of the
parts out of which it was composed. The example of America
thus enables us to explain even better the organization at the
base of the clans. We would take a mistaken view, if we judged
this only on the present conditions in Australia. In fact, it is in
a state of change and dissolution there, which is not at all normal;
it is much rather the product of a degeneration which we see,
due both to the natural decay of time and the disorganizing effect
of the whites. To be sure, it is hardly probable that the Australian
clans ever had the dimensions and solid structure of the American
ones. But there must have been a time when the distance between
them was less considerable than it is to-day, for the American
societies would never have succeeded in making so solid a
structure if the clans had always been of so fluid and inconsistent
a nature.
This greater stability has even enabled the archaic system of
phratries to maintain itself in America with a clearness and a
relief no longer to be found in Australia. We have just seen that
in the latter continent the phratry is everywhere in a state of
decadence; very frequently it is nothing more than an anonymous
group; when it has a name, this is either no longer understood,
or in any case, it cannot mean a great deal to the native,
since it is borrowed from a foreign language, or from one no
longer spoken. Thus we have been able to infer the existence of
totems for phratries only from a few survivals, which, for the
most part, are so slightly marked that they have escaped the
attention of many observers. In certain parts of America, on
the contrary, this institution has retained its primitive importance.
The tribes of the North-west coast, the Tlinkit and the Haida
especially, have now attained a relatively advanced civilization;
yet they are divided into two phratries which are subdivided into
a certain number of clans: the phratries of the Crow and the
Wolf among the Tlinkit,[264] of the Eagle and the Crow among the
Haida.[265] And this division is not merely nominal; it corresponds
to an ever-existing state of tribal customs and is deeply marked
with the tribal life. The moral distance separating the clans is
very slight in comparison with that separating the phratries.[266]
The name of each is not a word whose sense is forgotten or only
vaguely known; it is a totem in the full sense of the term; they
have all its essential attributes, such as will be described below.[267]
Consequently, upon this point also, American tribes must not be
neglected, for we can study the totems of phratries directly there,
while Australia offers only obscure vestiges of them.
But the totem is not merely a name; it is an emblem, a
veritable coat-of-arms whose analogies with the arms of heraldry
have often been remarked. In speaking of the Australians, Grey
says, "each family adopt an animal or vegetable as their crest
and sign,"[268] and what Grey calls a family is incontestably a
clan. Also Fison and Howitt say, "the Australian divisions
show that the totem is, in the first place, the badge of a group."[269]
Schoolcraft says the same thing about the totems of the Indians
of North America. "The totem is in fact a design which corresponds
to the heraldic emblems of civilized nations, and
each person is authorized to bear it as a proof of the identity
of the family to which it belongs. This is proved by the real
etymology of the word, which is derived from dodaim, which
means village or the residence of a family group."[270] Thus when
the Indians entered into relations with the Europeans and contracts
were formed between them, it was with its totem that
each clan sealed the treaties thus concluded.[271]
The nobles of the feudal period carved, engraved and designed
in every way their coats-of-arms upon the walls of their castles,
their arms, and every sort of object that belonged to them; the
blacks of Australia and the Indians of North America do the
same thing with their totems. The Indians who accompanied
Samuel Hearne painted their totems on their shields before going
into battle.[272] According to Charlevoix, in time of war, certain
tribes of Indians had veritable ensigns, made of bits of bark
fastened to the end of a pole, upon which the totems were represented.[273]
Among the Tlinkit, when a conflict breaks out between
two clans, the champions of the two hostile groups wear helmets
over their heads, upon which are painted their respective totems.[274]
Among the Iroquois, they put the skin of the animal which
serves as totem upon each wigwam, as a mark of the clan.[275]
According to another observer, the animal was stuffed and set
up before the door.[276] Among the Wyandot, each clan has its
own ornaments and its distinctive paintings.[277] Among the
Omaha, and among the Sioux generally, the totem is painted
on the tent.[278]
Wherever the society has become sedentary, where the tent is
replaced by the house, and where the plastic arts are more
fully developed, the totem is engraved upon the woodwork
and upon the walls. This is what happens, for example, among
the Haida, the Tsimshian, the Salish and the Tlinkit. "A
very particular ornament of the house, among the Tlinkit,"
says Krause, "is the totemic coat-of-arms." Animal forms,
sometimes combined with human forms, are engraved upon
the posts at the sides of the door of entry, which are as high
as 15 yards; they are generally painted with very bright colours.[279]
However, these totemic decorations are not very numerous
in the Tlinkit village; they are found almost solely before the
houses of the chiefs and rich men. They are much more frequent
in the neighbouring tribe of the Haida; here there are always
several for each house.[280] With its many sculptured posts arising
on every hand, sometimes to a great height, a Haida village
gives the impression of a sacred city, all bristling with belfries
or little minarets.[281] Among the Salish, the totem is frequently
represented upon the interior walls of the house.[282] Elsewhere, it
is found upon the canoes, the utensils of every sort and the
funeral piles.[283]
The preceding examples are taken exclusively from the Indians
of North America. This is because sculpture, engravings and
permanent figurations are not possible except where the technique
of the plastic arts has reached a degree of perfection to which
the Australian tribes have not yet attained. Consequently the
totemic representations of the sort which we just mentioned are
rarer and less apparent in Australia than in America. However,
cases of them are cited. Among the Warramunga, at the end of
the burial ceremonies, the bones of the dead man are interred,
after they have been dried and reduced to powder; beside the
place where they are deposited, a figure representing the
totem is traced upon the ground.[284] Among the Mara and the
Anula, the body is placed in a piece of hollow wood decorated
with designs characteristic of the totem.[285] In New South Wales,
Oxley found engravings upon the trees near the tomb where a
native was buried[286] to which Brough Smyth attributes a totemic
character. The natives of the Upper Darling carve totemic
images upon their shields.[287] According to Collins, nearly all the
utensils are covered with ornaments which probably have the
same significance; figures of the same sort are found upon the
rocks.[288] These totemic designs may even be more frequent than
it seems, for, owing to reasons which will be discussed below, it
is not always easy to see what their real meaning is.
These different facts give us an idea of the considerable place
held by the totem in the social life of the primitives. However,
up to the present, it has appeared to us as something relatively
outside of the man, for it is only upon external things that we
have seen it represented. But totemic images are not placed
only upon the walls of their houses, the sides of their canoes,
their arms, their utensils and their tombs; they are also found
on the bodies of the men. They do not put their coat-of-arms
merely upon the things which they possess, but they put it upon
their persons; they imprint it upon their flesh, it becomes a
part of them, and this world of representations is even by far
the more important one.
In fact, it is a very general rule that the members of each
clan seek to give themselves the external aspect of their totem.
At certain religious festivals among the Tlinkit, the person who
is to direct the ceremonies wears a garment which represents,
either wholly or in part, the body of the animal whose name he
bears.[289] These same usages are also found in all the North-West
of America.[290] They are found again among the Minnitaree, when
they go into combat,[291] and among the Indians of the Pueblos.[292]
Elsewhere, when the totem is a bird, men wear the feathers of this
bird on their heads.[293] Among the Iowa, each clan has a special
fashion of cutting the hair. In the Eagle clan, two large tufts
are arranged on the front of the head, while there is another
one behind; in the Buffalo clan, they are arranged in the form
of horns.[294] Among the Omaha, analogous arrangements are
found: each clan has its own head-dress. In the Turtle clan, for
example, the hair is all shaved off, except six bunches, two on
each side of the head, one in front, and one behind, in such a
way as to imitate the legs, the head and the tail of the animal.[295]
But it is more frequently upon the body itself that the totemic
mark is stamped: for this is a way of representation within the
capacity of even the least advanced societies. It has sometimes
been asked whether the common rite of knocking out a young
man's two upper teeth at the age of puberty does not have the
object of reproducing the form of the totem. The fact is not
established, but it is worth mentioning that the natives themselves
sometimes explain the custom thus. For example, among the
Arunta, the extraction of teeth is practised only in the clans of
the rain and of water; now according to tradition, the object
of this operation is to make their faces look like certain black
clouds with light borders which are believed to announce the
speedy arrival of rain, and which are therefore considered things
of the same family.[296] This is a proof that the native himself is
conscious that the object of these deformations is to give him,
at least conventionally, the aspect of his totem. Among these
same Arunta, in the course of the rites of sub-incision, certain
gashes are cut upon the sisters and the future wife of the novice;
scars result from these, whose form is also represented upon a
certain sacred object of which we shall speak presently and which
is called the churinga; as we shall see, the lines thus drawn
upon the churinga are emblematic of the totem.[297] Among the
Kaitish, the euro is believed to be closely connected with the
rain;[298] the men of the rain clan wear little ear-rings made of
euro teeth.[299] Among the Yerkla, during the initiation the young
man is given a certain number of slashes which leave scars; the
number and form of these varies with the totems.[300] An informer
of Fison mentions the same fact in the tribes observed by him.[301]
According to Howitt, a relationship of the same sort exists
among the Dieri between certain arrangements of scars and the
water totem.[302] Among the Indians of the North-West, it is a
very general custom for them to tattoo themselves with the
totem.[303]
But even if the tattooings which are made by mutilations or
scars do not always have a totemic significance,[304] it is different
with simple designs drawn upon the body: they are generally
representations of the totem. It is true that the native does not
carry them every day. When he is occupied with purely economic
occupations, or when the small family groups scatter to hunt or
fish, he does not bother with all this paraphernalia, which is
quite complicated. But when the clans unite to live a common
life and to assist at the religious ceremonies together, then he
must adorn himself. As we shall see, each of the ceremonies
concerns a particular totem, and in theory the rites which are
connected with a totem can be performed only by the men of
that totem. Now those who perform,[305] who take the part of
officiants, and sometimes even those who assist as spectators,
always have designs representing the totem on their bodies.[306]
One of the principal rites of initiation, by which a young man
enters into the religious life of the tribe, consists in painting the
totemic symbol on his body.[307] It is true that among the Arunta
the design thus traced does not always and necessarily represent
the totem of the initiated;[308] but these are exceptions, due,
undoubtedly, to the disturbed state of the totemic organization
of this tribe.[309] Also, even among the Arunta, at the most solemn
moment of the initiation, which is its crown and consecration,
when the neophyte is allowed to enter the sanctuary where all
the sacred objects belonging to the clan are preserved, an
emblematic painting is placed upon him; this time, it is the
totem of the young man which is thus represented.[310] The bonds
which unite the individual to his totem are even so strong that
in the tribes on the North-west coast of North America, the
emblem of the clan is painted not only upon the living but also
upon the dead: before a corpse is interred, they put the totemic
mark upon it.[311]
These totemic decorations enable us to see that the totem is
not merely a name and an emblem. It is in the course of the
religious ceremonies that they are employed; they are a part
of the liturgy; so while the totem is a collective label, it also
has a religious character. In fact, it is in connection with it,
that things are classified as sacred or profane. It is the very
type of sacred thing.
The tribes of Central Australia, especially the Arunta, the
Loritja, the Kaitish, the Unmatjera, and the Ilpirra,[312] make constant
use of certain instruments in their rites which are called the
churinga by the Arunta, according to Spencer and Gillen, or the
tjurunga, according to Strehlow.[313] They are pieces of wood or
bits of polished stone, of a great variety of forms, but generally
oval or oblong.[314] Each totemic group has a more or less important
collection of these. Upon each of these is engraved a design
representing the totem of this same group.[315] A certain number of
the churinga have a hole at one end, through which goes a thread
made of human hair or that of an opossum. Those which are
made of wood and are pierced in this way serve for exactly the
same purposes as those instruments of the cult to which English
ethnographers have given the name of "bull-roarers." By
means of the thread by which they are suspended, they are
whirled rapidly in the air in such a way as to produce a sort of
humming identical with that made by the toys of this name
still used by our children; this deafening noise has a ritual
significance and accompanies all ceremonies of any importance.
These sorts of churinga are real bull-roarers. But there are
others which are not made of wood and are not pierced; consequently
they cannot be employed in this way. Nevertheless,
they inspire the same religious sentiments.
In fact, every churinga, for whatever purpose it may be
employed, is counted among the eminently sacred things; there
are none which surpass it in religious dignity. This is indicated
even by the word which is used to designate them. It is not
only a substantive but also an adjective meaning sacred. Also,
among the several names which each Arunta has, there is one so
sacred that it must not be revealed to a stranger; it is pronounced
but rarely, and then in a low voice and a sort of mysterious
murmur. Now this name is called the aritna churinga (aritna
means name).[316] In general, the word churinga is used to designate
all ritual acts; for example, ilia churinga signifies the cult of the
emu.[317] Churinga, when used substantively, therefore designates
the thing whose essential characteristic is sacredness. Profane
persons, that is to say, women and young men not yet initiated
into the religious life, may not touch or even see the churinga;
they are only allowed to look at it from a distance, and even
this is only on rare occasions.[318]
The churinga are piously kept in a special place, which the
Arunta call the ertnatulunga.[319] This is a cave or a sort of cavern
hidden in a deserted place. The entrance is carefully closed by
means of stones so cleverly placed that a stranger going past
it could not suspect that the religious treasury of the clan was
so near to him. The sacred character of the churinga is so great
that it communicates itself to the locality where they are stored:
the women and the uninitiated cannot approach it. It is only
after their initiation is completely finished that the young men
have access to it: there are some who are not esteemed worthy
of this favour except after years of trial.[320] The religious nature
radiates to a distance and communicates itself to all the surroundings:
everything near by participates in this same nature
and is therefore withdrawn from profane touch. Is one man
pursued by another? If he succeeds in reaching the ertnatulunga,
he is saved; he cannot be seized there.[321] Even a wounded animal
which takes refuge there must be respected.[322] Quarrels are forbidden
there. It is a place of peace, as is said in the Germanic
societies; it is a sanctuary of the totemic group, it is a veritable
place of asylum.
But the virtues of the churinga are not manifested merely
by the way in which it keeps the profane at a distance. If it is
thus isolated, it is because it is something of a high religious
value whose loss would injure the group and the individuals
severely. It has all sorts of marvellous properties: by contact
it heals wounds, especially those resulting from circumcision;[323]
it has the same power over sickness;[324] it is useful for making
the beard grow;[325] it confers important powers over the totemic
species, whose normal reproduction it ensures;[326] it gives men
force, courage and perseverance, while, on the other hand, it
depresses and weakens their enemies. This latter belief is so
firmly rooted that when two combatants stand pitted against
one another, if one sees that the other has brought churinga
against him, he loses confidence and his defeat is certain.[327] Thus
there is no ritual instrument which has a more important place
in the religious ceremonies.[328] By means of various sorts of anointings,
their powers are communicated either to the officiants or
to the assistants; to bring this about, they are rubbed over the
members and stomach of the faithful after being covered with
grease;[329] or sometimes they are covered with a down which
flies away and scatters itself in every direction when they are
whirled; this a way of disseminating the virtues which are in
them.[330]
But they are not useful merely to individuals; the fate of the
clan as a whole is bound up with theirs. Their loss is a disaster;
it is the greatest misfortune which can happen to the group.[331]
Sometimes they leave the ertnatulunga, for example when they
are loaned to other groups.[332] Then follows a veritable public
mourning. For two weeks, the people of the totem weep and
lament, covering their bodies with white clay just as they do
when they have lost a relative.[333] And the churinga are not left
at the free disposition of everybody; the ertnatulunga where
they are kept is placed under the control of the chief of the
group. It is true that each individual has special rights to some
of them;[334] yet, though he is their proprietor in a sense, he
cannot make use of them except with the consent and under
the direction of the chief. It is a collective treasury; it is the
sacred ark of the clan.[335] The devotion of which they are the
object shows the high price that is attached to them. The
respect with which they are handled is shown by the solemnity
of the movements.[336] They are taken care of, they are greased,
rubbed, polished, and when they are moved from one locality to
another, it is in the midst of ceremonies which bear witness to
the fact that this displacement is regarded as an act of the highest
importance.[337]
Now in themselves, the churinga are objects of wood and
stone like all others; they are distinguished from profane
things of the same sort by only one particularity: this is that
the totemic mark is drawn or engraved upon them. So it is
this mark and this alone which gives them their sacred character.
It is true that according to Spencer and Gillen, the churinga
serve as the residence of an ancestor's soul and that it is the
presence of this soul which confers these properties.[338] While
declaring this interpretation inexact, Strehlow, in his turn,
proposes another which does not differ materially from the other:
he claims that the churinga are considered the image of the
ancestor's body, or the body itself.[339] So, in any case, it would be
sentiments inspired by the ancestor which fix themselves upon
the material object, and convert it into a sort of fetish. But in the
first place, both conceptions,—which, by the way, scarcely differ
except in the letter of the myth,—have obviously been made up
afterwards, to account for the sacred character of the churinga.
In the constitution of these pieces of wood and bits of stone,
and in their external appearance, there is nothing which predestines
them to be considered the seat of an ancestral soul, or
the image of his body. So if men have imagined this myth, it
was in order to explain the religious respect which these things
inspired in them, and the respect was not determined by the
myth. This explanation, like so many mythological explanations,
resolves the question only by repeating it in slightly different
terms; for saying that the churinga is sacred and saying that it
has such and such a relation with a sacred being, is merely to
proclaim the same fact in two different ways; it is not accounting
for them. Moreover, according to the avowal of Spencer and
Gillen, there are some churinga among the Arunta which are made
by the old men of the group, to the knowledge of and before the
eyes of all;[340] these obviously do not come from the great ancestors.
However, except for certain differences of degree, they have the
same power as the others and are preserved in the same manner.
Finally, there are whole tribes where the churinga is never
associated with a spirit.[341] Its religious nature comes to it, then,
from some other source, and whence could it come, if not from
the totemic stamp which it bears? It is to this image, therefore,
that the demonstrations of the rite are really addressed; it is
this which sanctifies the object upon which it is carved.
Among the Arunta and the neighbouring tribes, there are two
other liturgical instruments closely connected with the totem
and the churinga itself, which ordinarily enters into their composition:
they are the nurtunja and the waninga.
The nurtunja,[342] which is found among the northern Arunta
and their immediate neighbours,[343] is made up principally of a
vertical support which is either a single lance, or several lances
united into a bundle, or of a simple pole.[344] Bunches of grass are
fastened all around it by means of belts or little cords made of
hair. Above this, down is placed, arranged either in circles or in
parallel lines which run from the top to the bottom of the support.
The top is decorated with the plumes of an eagle-hawk. This is
only the most general and typical form; in particular cases, it
has all sorts of variations.[345]
The waninga, which is found only among the southern Arunta,
the Urabunna and the Loritja, has no one unique model either.
Reduced to its most essential elements, it too consists in a vertical
support, formed by a long stick or by a lance several yards high,
with sometimes one and sometimes two cross-pieces.[346] In the
former case, it has the appearance of a cross. Cords made either
of human hair or opossum or bandicoot fur diagonally cross the
space included between the arms of the cross and the extremities
of the central axis; as they are quite close to each other, they
form a network in the form of a lozenge. When there are two
cross-bars, these cords go from one to the other and from these
to the top and bottom of the support. They are sometimes
covered with a layer of down, thick enough to conceal the foundation.
Thus the waninga has the appearance of a veritable flag.[347]
Now the nurtunja and the waninga, which figure in a multitude
of important rites, are the object of a religious respect quite like
that inspired by the churinga. The process of their manufacture
and erection is conducted with the greatest solemnity. Fixed in
the earth, or carried by an officiant, they mark the central point
of the ceremony: it is about them that the dances take place
and the rites are performed. In the course of the initiation, the
novice is led to the foot of a nurtunja erected for the occasion.
Someone says to him, "There is the nurtunja of your father;
many young men have already been made by it." After that,
the initiate must kiss the nurtunja.[348] By this kiss, he enters
into relations with the religious principle which resides there;
it is a veritable communion which should give the young man
the force required to support the terrible operation of sub-incision.[349]
The nurtunja also plays a considerable rôle in the mythology of
these societies. The myths relate that in the fabulous times of
the great ancestors, the territory of the tribe was overrun in
every direction by companies composed exclusively of individuals
of the same totem.[350] Each of these troops had a nurtunja with
it. When it stopped to camp, before scattering to hunt, the
members fixed their nurtunja in the ground, from the top of
which their churinga was suspended.[351] That is equivalent to
saying that they confided the most precious things they had to
it. It was at the same time a sort of standard which served as a
rallying-centre for the group. One cannot fail to be struck by
the analogies between the nurtunja and the sacred post of the
Omaha.[352]
Now its sacred character can come from only one cause: that
is that it represents the totem materially. The vertical lines or
rings of down which cover it, and even the cords of different
colours which fasten the arms of the waninga to the central
axis, are not arranged arbitrarily, according to the taste of the
makers; they must conform to a type strictly determined by
tradition which, in the minds of the natives, represents the
totem.[353] Here we cannot ask, as we did in the case of the churinga,
whether the veneration accorded to this instrument of the cult
is not merely the reflex of that inspired by the ancestors; for it
is a rule that each nurtunja and each waninga last only during
the ceremony where they are used. They are made all over
again every time that it is necessary, and when the rite is once
accomplished, they are stripped of their ornaments and the
elements out of which they are made are scattered.[354] They are
nothing more than images—and temporary images at that—of
the totem, and consequently it is on this ground, and on this
ground alone, that they play a religious rôle.
So the churinga, the nurtunja and the waninga owe their
religious nature solely to the fact that they bear the totemic
emblem. It is the emblem that is sacred. It keeps this character,
no matter where it may be represented. Sometimes it is painted
upon rocks; these paintings are called churinga ilkinia, sacred
drawings.[355] The decorations with which the officiants and
assistants at the religious ceremonies adorn themselves have
the same name: women and children may not see them.[356] In the
course of certain rites, the totem is drawn upon the ground.
The way in which this is done bears witness to the sentiments
inspired by this design, and the high value attributed to it; it
is traced upon a place that has been previously sprinkled, and
saturated with human blood,[357] and we shall presently see that
the blood is in itself a sacred liquid, serving for pious uses only.
When the design has been made, the faithful remain seated on
the ground before it, in an attitude of the purest devotion.[358] If
we give the word a sense corresponding to the mentality of the
primitive, we may say that they adore it. This enables us to
understand how the totemic blazon has remained something very
precious for the Indians of North America: it is always surrounded
with a sort of religious halo.
But if we are seeking to understand how it comes that these
totemic representations are so sacred, it is not without interest
to see what they consist in.
Among the Indians of North America, they are painted,
engraved or carved images which attempt to reproduce as faithfully
as possible the external aspect of the totemic animal. The
means employed are those which we use to-day in similar circumstances,
except that they are generally cruder. But it is not the
same in Australia, and it is in the Australian societies that
we must seek the origin of these representations. Although the
Australian may show himself sufficiently capable of imitating
the forms of things in a rudimentary way,[359] sacred representations
generally seem to show no ambitions in this line: they consist
essentially in geometrical designs drawn upon the churinga, the
nurtunga, rocks, the ground, or the human body. They are
either straight or curved lines, painted in different ways,[360] and
the whole having only a conventional meaning. The connection
between the figure and the thing represented is so remote and
indirect that it cannot be seen, except when it is pointed out.
Only the members of the clan can say what meaning is attached
to such and such combinations of lines.[361] Men and women are
generally represented by semicircles, and animals by whole
circles or spirals,[362] the tracks of men or animals by lines of points,
etc. The meaning of the figures thus obtained is so arbitrary
that a single design may have two different meanings for the
men of two different totems, representing one animal here, and
another animal or plant there. This is perhaps still more apparent
with the nurtunja and waninga. Each of them represents a
different totem. But the few and simple elements which enter
into their composition do not allow a great variety of combinations.
The result is that two nurtunja may have exactly the
same appearance, and yet express two things as different as a
gum tree and an emu.[363] When a nurtunja is made, it is given a
meaning which it keeps during the whole ceremony, but which,
in the last resort, is fixed by convention.
These facts prove that if the Australian is so strongly inclined
to represent his totem, it is in order not to have a portrait of it
before his eyes which would constantly renew the sensation of
it; it is merely because he feels the need of representing the
idea which he forms of it by means of material and external
signs, no matter what these signs may be. We are not yet ready
to attempt to understand what has thus caused the primitive
to write his idea of his totem upon his person and upon different
objects, but it is important to state at once the nature of the
need which has given rise to these numerous representations.[364]
But totemic images are not the only sacred things. There
are real things which are also the object of rites, because
of the relations which they have with the totem: before all
others, are the beings of the totemic species and the members
of the clan.
First of all, since the designs which represent the totem arouse
religious sentiments, it is natural that the things whose aspect
these designs reproduce should have this same property, at least
to a certain degree.
For the most part, these are animals or plants. The profane
function of vegetables and even of animals is ordinarily to serve
as food; then the sacred character of the totemic animal or plant
is shown by the fact that it is forbidden to eat them. It is true
that since they are sacred things, they can enter into the composition
of certain mystical repasts, and we shall see, in fact,
that they sometimes serve as veritable sacraments; yet normally
they cannot be used for everyday consumption. Whoever
oversteps this rule, exposes himself to grave dangers. It is not
that the group always intervenes to punish this infraction
artificially; it is believed that the sacrilege produces death
automatically. A redoubtable principle is held to reside in the
totemic plant or animal, which cannot enter into the profane
organism without disorganizing it or destroying it.[365] In certain
tribes at least, only the old men are free from this prohibition;[366]
we shall see the reason for this later.
However, if this prohibition is formal in a large number of
tribes[367]—with certain exceptions which will be mentioned later—it
is incontestable that it tends to weaken as the old totemic
organization is disturbed. But the restrictions which remain
even then prove that these attenuations are not admitted without
difficulty. For example, when it is permitted to eat the plant
or animal that serves as totem, it is not possible to do so freely;
only a little bit may be taken at a time. To go beyond this
amount is a ritual fault that has grave consequences.[368] Elsewhere,
the prohibition remains intact for the parts that are regarded
as the most precious, that is to say, as the most sacred; for
example, the eggs or the fat.[369] In still other parts, consumption
is not allowed except when the animal in question has not yet
reached full maturity.[370] In this case, they undoubtedly think
that its sacred character is not yet complete. So the barrier
which isolates and protects the totemic being yields but slowly
and with active resistance, which bears witness to what it must
have been at first.
It is true that according to Spencer and Gillen these restrictions
are not the remnants of what was once a rigorous prohibition
now losing hold, but the beginnings of an interdiction which is
only commencing to establish itself. These writers hold[371] that
at first there was a complete liberty of consumption and that
the limitations which were presently brought are relatively
recent. They think they find the proof of their theory in the two
following facts. In the first place, as we just said, there are
solemn occasions when the members of the clan or their chief
not only may, but must eat the totemic animal or plant. Moreover,
the myths relate that the great ancestors, the founders
of the clans, ate their totems regularly: now, it is said, these
stories cannot be understood except as an echo of a time when
the present prohibitions did not exist.
But the fact that in the course of certain solemn ceremonies
a consumption of the totem, and a moderate one at that, is
ritually required in no way implies that it was once an ordinary
article of food. Quite on the contrary, the food that one eats at
a mystical repast is essentially sacred, and consequently forbidden
to the profane. As for the myths, a somewhat summary
critical method is employed, if they are so readily given the
value of historical documents. In general, their object is to
interpret existing rites rather than to commemorate past events;
they are an explanation of the present much more than a history.
In this case, the traditions according to which the ancestors
of the fabulous epoch ate their totem are in perfect accord with
the beliefs and rites which are always in force. The old men and
those who have attained a high religious dignity are freed from
the restrictions under which ordinary men are placed:[372] they
can eat the sacred thing because they are sacred themselves;
this rule is in no way peculiar to totemism, but it is found in all
the most diverse religions. Now the ancestral heroes were nearly
gods. It is therefore still more natural that they should eat the
sacred food;[373] but that is no reason why the same privilege
should be awarded to the simple profane.[374]
However, it is neither certain nor even probable that the
prohibition was ever absolute. It seems to have always been
suspended in case of necessity, as, for example, when a man
is famished and has nothing else with which to nourish himself.[375]
A stronger reason for this is found when the totem is a form of
nourishment which a man cannot do without. Thus there are a
great many tribes where water is a totem; a strict prohibition
is manifestly impossible in this case. However, even here, the
privilege granted is submitted to certain restrictions which
greatly limit its use and which show clearly that it goes against
a recognized principle. Among the Kaitish and the Warramunga,
a man of this totem is not allowed to drink water freely; he may
not take it up himself; he may receive it only from the hands of
a third party who must belong to the phratry of which he is not
a member.[376] The complexity of this procedure and the embarrassment
which results from it are still another proof that access to
the sacred thing is not free. This same rule is applied in certain
central tribes every time that the totem is eaten, whether from
necessity or any other cause. It should also be added that
when this formality is not possible, that is, when a man is alone
or with members of his own phratry only, he may, on necessity,
do without an intermediary. It is clear that the prohibition is
susceptible of various moderations.
Nevertheless, it rests upon ideas so strongly ingrained in the
mind that it frequently survives its original cause for being.
We have seen that in all probability, the different clans of a
phratry are only subdivisions of one original clan which has
been dismembered. So there was a time when all the clans,
being welded together, had the same totem; consequently,
wherever the souvenir of this common origin is not completely
effaced, each clan continues to feel itself united to the others and
to consider that their totems are not completely foreign to it.
For this reason an individual may not eat freely of the totems
held by the different clans of the phratry of which he is a member;
he may touch them only if the forbidden plant or animal is given
him by a member of the other phratry.[377]
Another survival of the same sort is the one concerning the
maternal totem. There are strong reasons for believing that at
first, the totem was transmitted in the uterine line. Therefore,
wherever descent in the paternal line has been introduced, this
probably took place only after a long period, during which the
opposite principle was applied and the child had the totem of his
mother along with all the restrictions attached to it. Now in
certain tribes where the child inherits the paternal totem to-day,
some of the interdictions which originally protected the totem of
his mother still survive: he cannot eat it freely.[378] In the present
state of affairs, however, there is no longer anything corresponding
to this prohibition.
To this prohibition of eating is frequently added that of
killing the totem, or picking it, when it is a plant.[379] However,
here also there are exceptions and tolerations. These are especially
in the case of necessity, when the totem is a dangerous animal,[380]
for example, or when the man has nothing to eat. There are even
tribes where men are forbidden to hunt the animals whose
names they bear, on their own accounts, but where they may kill
them for others.[381] But the way in which this act is generally
accomplished clearly indicates that it is something illicit. One
excuses himself as though for a fault, and bears witness to the
chagrin which he suffers and the repugnance which he feels,[382]
while precautions are taken that the animal may suffer as little
as possible.[383]
In addition to these fundamental interdictions, certain cases
of a prohibition of contact between a man and his totem are
cited. Thus among the Omaha, in the clan of the Elk, no one
may touch any part of the body of a male elk; in the sub-clan of
the Buffalo, no one is allowed to touch the head of this animal.[384]
Among the Bechuana, no man dares to clothe himself in the skin
of his totem.[385] But these cases are rare; and it is natural that
they should be exceptional, for normally a man must wear the
image of his totem or something which brings it to mind. The
tattooings and the totemic costumes would not be possible if all
contact were forbidden. It has also been remarked that this
prohibition has not been found in Australia, but only in those
societies where totemism has advanced far from its original
form; it is therefore probably of late origin and due perhaps to
the influence of ideas that are really not totemic at all.[386]
If we now compare these various interdictions with those
whose object is the totemic emblem, contrarily to all that could
be foreseen, it appears that these latter are more numerous,
stricter, and more severely enforced than the former. The figures
of all sorts which represent the totem are surrounded with a
respect sensibly superior to that inspired by the very being
whose form these figures reproduce. The churinga, the nurtunja
and the waninga can never be handled by the women or the
uninitiated, who are even allowed to catch glimpses of it only
very exceptionally, and from a respectful distance. On the other
hand, the plant or animal whose name the clan bears may be
seen and touched by everybody. The churinga are preserved
in a sort of temple, upon whose threshold all noises from the
profane life must cease; it is the domain of sacred things. On
the contrary, the totemic animals and plants live in the profane
world and are mixed up with the common everyday life. Since
the number and importance of the interdictions which isolate
a sacred thing, and keep it apart, correspond to the degree of
sacredness with which it is invested, we arrive at the remarkable
conclusion that the images of totemic beings are more sacred than
the beings themselves. Also, in the ceremonies of the cult, it is
the churinga and the nurtunja which have the most important
place; the animal appears there only very exceptionally. In a
certain rite, of which we shall have occasion to speak,[387] it serves
as the substance for a religious repast, but it plays no active
rôle. The Arunta dance around the nurtunja, and assemble
before the image of their totem to adore it, but a similar demonstration
is never made before the totemic being itself. If this
latter were the primarily sacred object, it would be with it,
the sacred animal or plant, that the young initiate would communicate
when he is introduced into the religious life; but we
have seen that on the contrary, the most solemn moment of the
initiation is the one when the novice enters into the sanctuary
of the churinga. It is with them and the nurtunja that he communicates.
The representations of the totem are therefore more
actively powerful than the totem itself.
We must now determine the place of man in the scheme of
religious things.
By the force of a whole group of acquired habits and of language
itself, we are inclined to consider the common man, the simple
believer, as an essentially profane being. It may well happen
that this conception is not literally true for any religion;[388] in
any case, it is not applicable to totemism. Every member of
the clan is invested with a sacred character which is not materially
inferior to that which we just observed in the animal. This
personal sacredness is due to the fact that the man believes that
while he is a man in the usual sense of the word, he is also an
animal or plant of the totemic species.
In fact, he bears its name; this identity of name is therefore
supposed to imply an identity of nature. The first is not merely
considered as an outward sign of the second; it supposes it
logically. This is because the name, for a primitive, is not merely
a word or a combination of sounds; it is a part of the being, and
even something essential to it. A member of the Kangaroo clan
calls himself a kangaroo; he is therefore, in one sense, an animal
of this species. "The totem of any man," say Spencer and
Gillen, "is regarded as the same thing as himself; a native once
said to us when we were discussing the matter with him, 'That
one,' pointing to his photograph which we had taken, 'is the
same thing as me: so is a kangaroo' (his totem)."[389] So each
individual has a double nature: two beings coexist within him,
a man and an animal.
In order to give a semblance of intelligibility to this duality,
so strange for us, the primitive has invented myths which, it is
true, explain nothing and only shift the difficulty, but which,
by shifting it, seem at least to lessen the logical scandal. With
slight variations of detail, all are constructed on the same plan:
their object is to establish genealogical connections between the
man and the totemic animal, making the one a relative of the
other. By this common origin, which, by the way, is represented
in various manners, they believe that they account for their
common nature. The Narrinyeri, for example, have imagined
that certain of the first men had the power of transforming
themselves into beasts.[390] Other Australian societies place at the
beginning of humanity either strange animals from which the
men were descended in some unknown way,[391] or mixed beings,
half-way between the two kingdoms,[392] or else unformed creatures,
hardly representable, deprived of all determined organs, and
even of all definite members, and the different parts of whose
bodies were hardly outlined.[393] Mythical powers, sometimes
conceived under the form of animals, then intervened and made
men out of these ambiguous and innumerable beings which
Spencer and Gillen say represent "stages in the transformation
of animals and plants into human beings."[394] These transformations
are represented to us under the form of violent and, as it
were, surgical operations. It is under the blows of an axe or, if
the operator is a bird, blows of the beak, that the human individual
was carved out of this shapeless mass, his members
separated from each other, his mouth opened and his nostrils
pierced.[395] Analogous legends are found in America, except that
owing to the more highly developed mentality of these peoples,
the representations which they employ do not contain confusions
so troublesome for the mind. Sometimes it is a legendary
personage who, by an act of his power, metamorphosed the
animal who gives its name to the clan into a man.[396] Sometimes
the myth attempts to explain how, by a series of nearly natural
events and a sort of spontaneous evolution, the animal transformed
himself little by little, and finally took a human form.[397]
It is true that there are societies (the Haida, Tlinkit, Tsimshian)
where it is no longer admitted that man was born of an
animal or plant; but the idea of an affinity between the animals
of the totemic species and the members of the clan has survived
there nevertheless, and expresses itself in myths which, though
differing from the preceding, still retain all that is essential in
them. Here is one of the fundamental themes. The ancestor
who gives his name to the clan is here represented as a human
being, but who, in the course of various wanderings, has been
led to live for a while among the fabulous animals of the very
species which gave the clan its name. As the result of this intimate
and prolonged connection, he became so like his new
companions that when he returned to men, they no longer
recognized him. He was therefore given the name of the animal
which he resembled. It is from his stay in this mythical land
that he brought back the totemic emblem, together with the
powers and virtues believed to be attached to it.[398] Thus in this
case, as in the others, men are believed to participate in the
nature of the animal, though this participation may be conceived
in slightly different forms.[399]
So man also has something sacred about him. Though diffused
into the whole organism, this characteristic is especially apparent
in certain privileged places. There are organs and tissues that
are specially marked out: these are particularly the blood and
the hair.
In the first place, human blood is so holy a thing that in the
tribes of Central Australia, it frequently serves to consecrate
the most respected instruments of the cult. For example, in
certain cases, the nurtunja is regularly anointed from top to
bottom with the blood of a man.[400] It is upon ground all saturated
with blood that the men of the Emu, among the Arunta, trace
their sacred images.[401] We shall presently see that streams of
blood are poured upon the rocks which represent the totemic
animals and plants.[402] There is no religious ceremony where blood
does not have some part to play.[403] During the initiation, the
adults open their veins and sprinkle the novice with their blood;
and this blood is so sacred a thing that women may not be
present while it is flowing; the sight of it is forbidden them,
just as the sight of a churinga is.[404] The blood lost by a young
initiate during the very violent operations he must undergo
has very particular virtues: it is used in various ceremonies.[405]
That which flows during the sub-incision is piously kept by the
Arunta and buried in a place upon which they put a piece of
wood warning passers-by of the sacredness of the spot; no
woman should approach it.[406] The religious nature of blood also
explains the equal importance, religiously, of the red ochre,
which is very frequently employed in ceremonies; they rub the
churinga with it and use it in ritual decorations.[407] This is due to
the fact that because of its colour, it is regarded as something
kindred to blood. Many deposits of red ochre which are found
in the Arunta territory are even supposed to be the coagulated
blood which certain heroines of the mythical period shed on to
the soil.[408]
Hair has similar properties. The natives of the centre wear
belts made of human hair, whose religious functions we have
already pointed out: they are also used to wrap up certain
instruments of the cult.[409] Does one man loan another one of his
churinga? As a sign of acknowledgment, the second makes
a present of hair to the first; these two sorts of things are therefore
thought to be of the same order and of equivalent value.[410]
So the operation of cutting the hair is a ritual act, accompanied
by definite ceremonies: the individual operated upon must
squat on the ground, with his face turned in the direction of the
place where the fabulous ancestors from which the clan of his
mother is believed to be descended, are thought to have camped.[411]
For the same reason, as soon as a man is dead, they cut his hair
off and put it away in some distant place, for neither women
nor the non-initiated have the right of seeing it: it is here, far
from profane eyes, that the belts are made.[412]
Other organic tissues might be mentioned which have similar
properties, in varying degrees: such are the whiskers, the foreskin,
the fat of the liver, etc.[413] But it is useless to multiply
examples. Those already given are enough to prove that there
is something in man which holds profane things at a distance
and which possesses a religious power; in other words, the
human organism conceals within its depths a sacred principle,
which visibly comes to the surface in certain determined cases.
This principle does not differ materially from that which causes
the religious character of the totem. In fact, we have just seen
that the different substances in which it incarnates itself especially
enter into the ritual composition of the objects of the cult
(nurtunja, totemic designs), or else are used in the anointings
whose object is to renew the virtues either of the churinga or of
the sacred rocks; they are things of the same species.
Sometimes the religious dignity which is inherent in each
member of the clan on this account is not equal for all. Men
possess it to a higher degree than women; in relation to them,
women are like profane beings.[414] Thus, every time that there is
an assembly, either of the totemic group or of the tribe, the
men have a separate camp, distinct from that of the women,
and into which these latter may not enter: they are separated
off.[415] But there are also differences in the way in which men
are marked with a religious character. The young men not yet
initiated are wholly deprived of it, since they are not admitted
to the ceremonies. It is among the old men that it reaches its
greatest intensity. They are so very sacred that certain things
forbidden to ordinary people are permissible for them: they may
eat the totemic animal more freely and, as we have seen, there
are even some tribes where they are freed from all dietetic restrictions.
So we must be careful not to consider totemism a sort of
animal worship. The attitude of a man towards the animals or
plants whose name he bears is not at all that of a believer towards
his god, for he belongs to the sacred world himself. Their
relations are rather those of two beings who are on the same
level and of equal value. The most that can be said is that
in certain cases, at least, the animal seems to occupy a slightly
more elevated place in the hierarchy of sacred things. It is
because of this that it is sometimes called the father or the
grandfather of the men of the clan, which seems to show that
they feel themselves in a state of moral dependence in regard
to it.[416] But in other, and perhaps even more frequent cases, it
happens that the expressions used denote rather a sentiment
of equality. The totemic animal is called the friend or the
elder brother of its human fellows.[417] Finally, the bonds which
exist between them and it are much more like those which unite
the members of a single family; the animals and the men are
made of the same flesh, as the Buandik say.[418] On account of this
kinship, men regard the animals of the totemic species as kindly
associates upon whose aid they think they can rely. They
call them to their aid[419] and they come, to direct their blows in
the hunt and to give warning of whatever dangers there may be.[420]
In return for this, men treat them with regard and are never
cruel to them;[421] but these attentions in no way resemble a cult.
Men sometimes even appear to have a mysterious sort of
property-right over their totems. The prohibition against
killing and eating them is applied only to members of the clan,
of course; it could not be extended to other persons without
making life practically impossible. If, in a tribe like the Arunta,
where there is such a host of different totems, it were forbidden
to eat, not only the animal or plant whose name one bears, but
also all the animals and all the plants which serve as totems
to other clans, the sources of food would be reduced to nothing.
Yet there are tribes where the consumption of the totemic plant
or animal is not allowed without restrictions, even to foreigners.
Among the Wakelbura, it must not take place in the presence of
men of this totem.[422] In other places, their permission must be
given. For example, among the Kaitish and the Unmatjera,
whenever a man of the Emu totem happens to be in a place
occupied by a grass-seed clan, and gathers some of these seed,
before eating them he must go to the chief and say to him,
"I have gathered these seeds in your country." To this the
chief replies, "All right; you may eat them." But if the Emu
man ate them before demanding permission, it is believed that
he would fall sick and run the risk of dying.[423] There are even
cases where the chief of the group must take a little of the food
and eat it himself: it is a sort of payment which must be made.[424]
For the same reason, the churinga gives the hunter a certain
power over the corresponding animal: by rubbing his body
with a Euro churinga, for example, a man acquires a greater
chance of catching euros.[425] This is the proof that the fact of
participating in the nature of a totemic being confers a sort of
eminent right over this latter. Finally, there is one tribe in
northern Queensland, the Karingbool, where the men of the
totem are the only ones who have a right to kill the animal or,
if the totem is a tree, to peel off its bark. Their aid is indispensable
to all others who want to use the flesh of this animal or the wood
of this tree for their own personal ends.[426] So they appear as
proprietors, though it is quite evidently over a special sort of
property, of which we find it hard to form an idea.
We are beginning to see that totemism is a much more
complex religion than it first appeared to be. We have
already distinguished three classes of things which it recognizes
as sacred, in varying degrees: the totemic emblem, the animal
or plant whose appearance this emblem reproduces, and the
members of the clan. However, this list is not yet complete.
In fact, a religion is not merely a collection of fragmentary
beliefs in regard to special objects like those we have just been
discussing. To a greater or less extent, all known religions have
been systems of ideas which tend to embrace the universality of
things, and to give us a complete representation of the world.
If totemism is to be considered as a religion comparable to the
others, it too should offer us a conception of the universe. As
a matter of fact, it does satisfy this condition.
The fact that this aspect of totemism has generally been
neglected is due to the too narrow notion of the clan which has
been prevalent. Ordinarily it is regarded as a mere group of
human beings. Being a simple subdivision of the tribe, it seems
that like this, it is made up of nothing but men. But in reasoning
thus, we substitute our European ideas for those which
the primitive has of man and of society. For the Australian,
things themselves, everything which is in the universe, are a
part of the tribe; they are constituent elements of it and, so
to speak, regular members of it; just like men, they have
a determined place in the general scheme of organization of the
society. "The South Australian savage," says Fison, "looks
upon the universe as the Great Tribe, to one of whose divisions
he himself belongs; and all things, animate and inanimate,
which belong to his class are parts of the body corporate whereof
he himself is a part."[427] As a consequence of this principle,
whenever the tribe is divided into two phratries, all known
things are distributed between them. "All nature," says
Palmer, in speaking of the Bellinger River tribe, "is also divided
into class [phratry] names.... The sun and moon and stars
are said ... to belong to classes [phratries] just as the blacks
themselves."[428] The Port Mackay tribe in Queensland has two
phratries with the names Yungaroo and Wootaroo, as do the
neighbouring tribes. Now as Bridgmann says, "all things,
animate and inanimate, are divided by these tribes into two
classes, named Yungaroo and Wootaroo."[429] Nor does the classification
stop here. The men of each phratry are distributed
among a certain number of clans; likewise, the things attributed
to each phratry are in their turn distributed among the clans
of which the phratry is composed. A certain tree, for example,
will be assigned to the Kangaroo clan, and to it alone; then,
just like the human members of the clan, it will have the Kangaroo
as totem; another will belong to the Snake clan; clouds will
be placed under one totem, the sun under another, etc. All
known things will thus be arranged in a sort of tableau or systematic
classification embracing the whole of nature.
We have given a certain number of these classifications elsewhere;[430]
at present we shall confine ourselves to repeating a few
of these as examples. One of the best known of these is the one
found in the Mount Gambier tribe. This tribe includes two
phratries, named respectively the Kumite and the Kroki; each
of these, in its turn, is subdivided into five clans. Now "everything
in nature belongs to one or another of these ten clans";[431]
Fison and Howitt say that they are all "included" within it.
In fact, they are classified under these ten totems just like
species in their respective classes. This is well shown by the
following table based on information gathered by Curr and by
Fison and Howitt.[432]
| Phratries. |
|
Clans. |
|
Things classed in each clan. |
|
| Kumite |
|
Fish-hawk
Pelican
Crow
Black cockatoo
A non-poisonous snake |
|
Smoke, honeysuckle, certain trees, etc.
Blackwood-trees, dogs, fire, frost, etc.
Rain, thunder, lightning, clouds, hail, winter, etc.
The stars, the moon, etc.
Fish, seal, eel, the stringybark-tree, etc. |
|
| Kroki |
|
Tea-tree
An edible root
A white crestless cockatoo
Details are lacking for the fourth and fifth Kroki clans. |
|
Duck, crayfish, owls, etc.
Bustard, quail, a small kangaroo, etc.
Kangaroo, the summer, the sun, wind, the autumn, etc.
|
The list of things attached to each clan is quite incomplete;
Curr himself warns us that he has limited himself to enumerating
some of them. But through the work of Mathews and of Howitt[433]
we have more extended information to-day on the classification
adopted by the Wotjobaluk tribe, which enables us to understand
better how a system of this kind is able to include the whole
universe, as known to the natives. The Wotjobaluk also are
divided into two phratries called Gurogity and Gumaty (Krokitch
and Gamutch according to Howitt[434]); not to prolong this
enumeration, we shall content ourselves with indicating, after
Mathews, the things classed in some of the clans of the Gurogity
phratry.
In the clan of the Yam are classified the plain-turkey, the
native cat, the mopoke, the dyim-dyim owl, the mallee hen, the
rosella parrot, the peewee.
In the Mussel[435] clan are the grey emu, the porcupine, the curlew,
the white cockatoo, the wood-duck, the mallee lizard, the
stinking turtle, the flying squirrel, the ring-tail opossum, the
bronze-wing pigeon, the wijuggla.
In the Sun clan are the bandicoot, the moon, the kangaroo-rat,
the black and white magpies, the opossum, the ngŭrt hawk, the
gum-tree grub, the wattle-tree grub, the planet Venus.
In the clan of the Warm Wind[436] are the grey-headed eagle-hawk,
the carpet snake, the smoker parrot, the shell parrot, the
murrakan hawk, the dikkomur snake, the ring-neck parrot, the
mirudai snake, the shingle-back lizard.
If we remember that there are many other clans (Howitt
names twelve and Mathews fourteen and adds that his list is
incomplete[437]), we will understand how all the things in which the
native takes an interest find a natural place in these classifications.
Similar arrangements have been observed in the most diverse
parts of the Australian continent; in South Australia, in Victoria,
and in New South Wales (among the Euahlayi[438]); very
clear traces of it are found in the central tribes.[439] In Queensland,
where the clans seem to have disappeared and where the matrimonial
classes are the only subdivisions of the phratry, things
are divided up among these classes. Thus, the Wakelbura are
divided into two phratries, Mallera and Wutaru; the classes
of the first are called Kurgilla and Banbe, those of the second,
Wungo and Obu. Now to the Banbe belong the opossum, the
kangaroo, the dog, honey of little bees, etc.; to the Wungo are
attributed the emu, the bandicoot, the black duck, the black
snake, the brown snake; to the Obu, the carpet snake, the
honey of stinging bees, etc.; to the Kurgilla, the porcupine, the
turkey of the plains, water, rain, fire, thunder, etc.[440]
This same organization is found among the Indians of North
America. The Zuñi have a system of classification which, in its
essential lines, is in all points comparable to the one we have
just described. That of the Omaha rests on the same principles
as that of the Wotjobaluk.[441] An echo of these same ideas survives
even into the more advanced societies. Among the Haida,
all the gods and mythical beings who are placed in charge of
the different phenomena of nature are classified in one or the
other of the two phratries which make up the tribe just like men;
some are Eagles, the others, Crows.[442] Now the gods of things are
only another aspect of the things which they govern.[443] This
mythological classification is therefore merely another form of
the preceding one. So we may rest assured that this way of
conceiving the world is independent of all ethnic or geographic
particularities; and at the same time it is clearly seen to be
closely united to the whole system of totemic beliefs.
In the paper to which we have already made allusion several
times, we have shown what light these facts throw upon the
way in which the idea of kind or class was formed in humanity.
In fact, these systematic classifications are the first we meet with
in history, and we have just seen that they are modelled upon
the social organization, or rather that they have taken the forms
of society as their framework. It is the phratries which have
served as classes, and the clans as species. It is because men
were organized that they have been able to organize things, for
in classifying these latter, they limited themselves to giving them
places in the groups they formed themselves. And if these
different classes of things are not merely put next to each other,
but are arranged according to a unified plan, it is because the
social groups with which they commingle themselves are unified
and, through their union, form an organic whole, the tribe.
The unity of these first logical systems merely reproduces the
unity of the society. Thus we have an occasion for verifying the
proposition which we laid down at the commencement of this
work, and for assuring ourselves that the fundamental notions of
the intellect, the essential categories of thought, may be the
product of social factors. The above-mentioned facts show
clearly that this is the case with the very notion of category itself.
However, it is not our intention to deny that the individual
intellect has of itself the power of perceiving resemblances
between the different objects of which it is conscious. Quite on
the contrary, it is clear that even the most primitive and simple
classifications presuppose this faculty. The Australian does not
place things in the same clan or in different clans at random.
For him as for us, similar images attract one another, while
opposed ones repel one another, and it is on the basis of these
feelings of affinity or of repulsion that he classifies the corresponding
things in one place or another.
There are also cases where we are able to perceive the reasons
which inspired this. The two phratries were very probably the
original and fundamental bases for these classifications, which
were consequently bifurcate at first. Now, when a classification
is reduced to two classes, these are almost necessarily conceived
as antitheses; they are used primarily as a means of clearly
separating things between which there is a very marked contrast.
Some are set at the right, the others at the left. As a matter
of fact this is the character of the Australian classifications. If
the white cockatoo is in one phratry, the black one is in the
other; if the sun is on one side, the moon and the stars of night
are on the opposite side.[444] Very frequently the beings which
serve as the totems of the two phratries have contrary colours.[445]
These oppositions are even met with outside of Australia. Where
one of the phratries is disposed to peace, the other is disposed to
war;[446] if one has water as its totem, the other has earth.[447] This
is undoubtedly the explanation of why the two phratries have
frequently been thought of as naturally antagonistic to one
another. They say that there is a sort of rivalry or even a constitutional
hostility between them.[448] This opposition of things
has extended itself to persons; the logical contrast has begotten
a sort of social conflict.[449]
It is also to be observed that within each phratry, those things
have been placed in a single clan which seem to have the greatest
affinity with that serving as totem. For example, the moon has
been placed with the black cockatoo, but the sun, together with
the atmosphere and the wind, with the white cockatoo. Or again,
to a totemic animal has been united all that serves him as food,[450]
as well as the animals with which he has the closest connection.[451]
Of course, we cannot always understand the obscure psychology
which has caused many of these connections and distinctions,
but the preceding examples are enough to show that a certain
intuition of the resemblances and differences presented by things
has played an important part in the genesis of these classifications.
But the feeling of resemblances is one thing and the idea of
class is another. The class is the external framework of which
objects perceived to be similar form, in part, the contents. Now
the contents cannot furnish the frame into which they fit. They
are made up of vague and fluctuating images, due to the super-imposition
and partial fusion of a determined number of individual
images, which are found to have common elements; the framework,
on the contrary, is a definite form, with fixed outlines, but
which may be applied to an undetermined number of things, perceived
or not, actual or possible. In fact, every class has possibilities
of extension which go far beyond the circle of objects
which we know, either from direct experience or from resemblance.
This is why every school of thinkers has refused, and not with
good reason, to identify the idea of class with that of a generic
image. The generic image is only the indistinctly-bounded
residual representation left in us by similar representations, when
they are present in consciousness simultaneously; the class is
a logical symbol by means of which we think distinctly of these
similarities and of other analogous ones. Moreover, the best
proof of the distance separating these two notions is that an
animal is able to form generic images though ignorant of the
art of thinking in classes and species.
The idea of class is an instrument of thought which has obviously
been constructed by men. But in constructing it, we
have at least had need of a model; for how could this idea ever
have been born, if there had been nothing either in us or around
us which was capable of suggesting it to us? To reply that it
was given to us a priori is not to reply at all; this lazy man's
solution is, as has been said, the death of analysis. But it is hard
to see where we could have found this indispensable model except
in the spectacle of the collective life. In fact, a class is not an
ideal, but a clearly defined group of things between which internal
relationships exist, similar to those of kindred. Now the
only groups of this sort known from experience are those formed
by men in associating themselves. Material things may be able
to form collections of units, or heaps, or mechanical assemblages
with no internal unity, but not groups in the sense we have
given the word. A heap of sand or a pile of rock is in no way
comparable to that variety of definite and organized society
which forms a class. In all probability, we would never have
thought of uniting the beings of the universe into homogeneous
groups, called classes, if we had not had the example of human
societies before our eyes, if we had not even commenced by making
things themselves members of men's society, and also if human
groups and logical groups had not been confused at first.[452]
It is also to be borne in mind that a classification is a system
whose parts are arranged according to a hierarchy. There are
dominating members and others which are subordinate to the
first; species and their distinctive properties depend upon
classes and the attributes which characterize them; again, the
different species of a single class are conceived as all placed on
the same level in regard to each other. Does someone prefer
to regard them from the point of view of the understanding?
Then he represents things to himself in an inverse order: he
puts at the top the species that are the most particularized and
the richest in reality, while the types that are most general and
the poorest in qualities are at the bottom. Nevertheless, all are
represented in a hierarchic form. And we must be careful not
to believe that the expression has only a metaphorical sense here:
there are really relations of subordination and co-ordination, the
establishment of which is the object of all classification, and men
would never have thought of arranging their knowledge in this
way if they had not known beforehand what a hierarchy was.
But neither the spectacle of physical nature nor the mechanism
of mental associations could furnish them with this knowledge.
The hierarchy is exclusively a social affair. It is only in society
that there are superiors, inferiors and equals. Consequently,
even if the facts were not enough to prove it, the mere analysis
of these ideas would reveal their origin. We have taken them
from society, and projected them into our conceptions of the
world. It is society that has furnished the outlines which logical
thought has filled in.
But these primitive classifications have a no less direct interest
for the origins of religious thought.
They imply that all the things thus classed in a single clan or
a single phratry are closely related both to each other and to the
thing serving as the totem of this clan or phratry. When an Australian
of the Port Mackay tribe says that the sun, snakes, etc., are of
the Yungaroo phratry, he does not mean merely to apply a common,
but none the less a purely conventional, nomenclature to
these different things; the word has an objective signification for
him. He believes that "alligators really are Yungaroo and that
kangaroos are Wootaroo. The sun is Yungaroo, the moon Wootaroo,
and so on for the constellations, trees, plants, etc."[453] An
internal bond attaches them to the group in which they are placed;
they are regular members of it. It is said that they belong to the
group,[454] just exactly as the individual men make a part of it;
consequently, the same sort of a relation unites them to these
latter. Men regard the things in their clan as their relatives or
associates; they call them their friends and think that they are
made out of the same flesh as themselves.[455] Therefore, between
the two there are elective affinities and quite special relations of
agreement. Things and people have a common name, and in
a certain way they naturally understand each other and harmonize
with one another. For example, when a Wakelbura of
the Mallera phratry is buried, the scaffold upon which the body
is exposed "must be made of the wood of some tree belonging
to the Mallera phratry."[456] The same is true for the branches that
cover the corpse. If the deceased is of the Banbe class, a Banbe
tree must be used. In this same tribe, a magician can use in his
art only those things which belong to his own phratry;[457] since
the others are strangers to him, he does not know how to make
them obey him. Thus a bond of mystic sympathy unites each
individual to those beings, whether living or not, which are associated
with him; the result of this is a belief in the possibility
of deducing what he will do or what he has done from what they
are doing. Among these same Wakelbura, when a man dreams
that he has killed an animal belonging to a certain social division,
he expects to meet a man of this same division the next day.[458]
Inversely, the things attributed to a clan or phratry cannot be
used against the members of this clan or phratry. Among the
Wotjobaluk, each phratry has its own special trees. Now in
hunting an animal of the Gurogity phratry, only arms whose
wood is taken from trees of the other phratry may be used, and
vice versa; otherwise the hunter is sure to miss his aim.[459] The
native is convinced that the arrow would turn of itself and refuse,
so to speak, to hit a kindred and friendly animal.
Thus the men of the clan and the things which are classified
in it form by their union a solid system, all of whose parts are
united and vibrate sympathetically. This organization, which at
first may have appeared to us as purely logical, is at the same
time moral. A single principle animates it and makes its unity:
this is the totem. Just as a man who belongs to the Crow clan
has within him something of this animal, so the rain, since it is
of the same clan and belongs to the same totem, is also necessarily
considered as being "the same thing as a crow"; for the same
reason, the moon is a black cockatoo, the sun a white cockatoo,
every black-nut tree a pelican, etc. All the beings arranged in
a single clan, whether men, animals, plants or inanimate objects,
are merely forms of the totemic being. This is the meaning of the
formula which we have just cited and this is what makes the two
really of the same species: all are really of the same flesh in the
sense that all partake of the nature of the totemic animal. Also,
the qualifiers given them are those given to the totem.[460] The
Wotjobaluk give the name Mir both to the totem and to the
things classed with it.[461] It is true that among the Arunta, where
visible traces of classification still exist, as we shall see, different
words designate the totem and the other beings placed with it;
however, the name given to these latter bears witness to the close
relations which unite them to the totemic animal. It is said that
they are its intimates, its associates, its friends; it is believed that
they are inseparable from it.[462] So there is a feeling that these are
very closely related things.
But we also know that the totemic animal is a sacred being.
All the things that are classified in the clan of which it is the
emblem have this same character, because in one sense, they are
animals of the same species, just as the man is. They, too, are
sacred, and the classifications which locate them in relation to
the other things of the universe, by that very act give them a
place in the religious world. For this reason, the animals or
plants among these may not be eaten freely by the human
members of the clan. Thus in the Mount Gambier tribe, the men
whose totem is a certain non-poisonous snake must not merely
refrain from eating the flesh of this snake; that of seals, eels, etc.,
is also forbidden to them.[463] If, driven by necessity, they do eat
some of it, they must at least attenuate the sacrilege by expiatory
rites, just as if they had eaten the totem itself.[464] Among the
Euahlayi, where it is permitted to use the totem, but not to
abuse it, the same rule is applied to the other members of the
clan.[465] Among the Arunta, the interdictions protecting the
totemic animal extend over the associated animals;[466] and in any
case, particular attention must be given to these latter.[467] The
sentiments inspired by the two are identical.[468]
But the fact that the things thus attached to the totem are
not of a different nature from it, and consequently have a religious
character, is best proved by the fact that on certain
occasions they fulfil the same functions. They are accessory or
secondary totems, or, according to an expression now consecrated
by usage, they are sub-totems.[469] It is constantly happening
in the clans that under the influence of various sympathies, particular
affinities are forming, smaller groups and more limited
associations arise, which tend to lead a relatively autonomous
life and to form a new subdivision like a sub-clan within the
larger one. In order to distinguish and individualize itself, this
sub-clan needs a special totem or, consequently, a sub-totem.[470]
Now the totems of these secondary groups are chosen from
among the things classified under the principal totem. So they
are always almost totems and the slightest circumstance is
enough to make them actually so. There is a latent totemic
nature in them, which shows itself as soon as conditions permit
it or demand it. It thus happens that a single individual has two
totems, a principal totem common to the whole clan and a sub-totem
which is special to the sub-clan of which he is a member.
This is something analogous to the nomen and cognomen of the
Romans.[471]
Sometimes we see a sub-clan emancipate itself completely and
become an autonomous group and an independent clan; then,
the sub-totem, on its side, becomes a regular totem. One tribe
where this process of segmentation has been pushed to the limit,
so to speak, is the Arunta. The information contained in the
first book of Spencer and Gillen showed that there were some
sixty totems among the Arunta;[472] but the recent researches of
Strehlow have shown the number to be much larger. He counted
no less than 442.[473] Spencer and Gillen did not exaggerate at all
when they said, "In fact, there is scarcely an object, animate
or inanimate, to be found in the country occupied by the natives
which does not give its name to some totemic group."[474] Now
this multitude of totems, whose number is prodigious when compared
to the population, is due to the fact that under special
circumstances, the original clans have divided and sub-divided
infinitely; consequently nearly all the sub-totems have passed
to the stage of totems.
This has been definitely proved by the observations of Strehlow.
Spencer and Gillen cited only certain isolated cases of
associated totems.[475] Strehlow has shown that this is in reality
an absolutely general organization. He has been able to draw
up a table where nearly all the totems of the Arunta are classified
according to this principle: all are attached, either as associates
or as auxiliaries, to some sixty principal totems.[476] The first
are believed to be in the service of the second.[477] This state of
dependence is very probably the echo of a time when the "allies"
of to-day were only sub-totems, and consequently when the tribe
contained only a small number of clans subdivided into sub-clans.
Numerous survivals confirm this hypothesis. It frequently
happens that two groups thus associated have the same
totemic emblem: now this unity of emblem is explicable only
if the two groups were at first only one.[478] The relation of the
two clans is also shown by the part and the interest that each
one takes in the rites of the other. The two cults are still only
imperfectly separated; this is very probably because they were
at first completely intermingled.[479] Tradition explains the bonds
which unite them by imagining that formerly the two clans
occupied neighbouring places.[480] In other cases, the myth says
expressly that one of them was derived from the other. It is
related that at first the associated animal belonged to the species
still serving as principal totem; it differentiated itself at a later
period. Thus the chantunga birds, which are associated with
the witchetly grub to-day, were witchetly grubs in fabulous
times, who later transformed themselves into birds. Two
species which are now attached to the honey-ant were formerly
honey-ants, etc.[481] This transformation of a sub-totem into a
totem goes on by imperceptible degrees, so that in certain cases
the situation is undecided, and it is hard to say whether one is
dealing with a principal totem or a secondary one.[482] As Howitt
says in regard to the Wotjobaluk, there are sub-totems which are
totems in formation.[483] Thus the different things classified in a
clan constitute, as it were, so many nuclei around which new
totemic cults are able to form. This is the best proof of the
religious sentiments which they inspire. If they did not have a
sacred character, they could not be promoted so easily to the
same dignity as the things which are sacred before all others, the
regular totems.
So the field of religious things extends well beyond the limits
within which it seemed to be confined at first. It embraces not
only the totemic animals and the human members of the clan; but
since no known thing exists that is not classified in a clan and
under a totem, there is likewise nothing which does not receive
to some degree something of a religious character. When, in the
religions which later come into being, the gods properly so-called
appear, each of them will be set over a special category of
natural phenomena, this one over the sea, that one over the air,
another over the harvest or over fruits, etc., and each of these
provinces of nature will be believed to draw what life there is in it
from the god upon whom it depends. This division of nature
among the different divinities constitutes the conception which
these religions give us of the universe. Now so long as humanity
has not passed the phase of totemism, the different totems of
the tribe fulfil exactly the same functions that will later fall upon
the divine personalities. In the Mount Gambier tribe, which we
have taken as our principal example, there are ten clans; consequently
the entire world is divided into ten classes, or rather
into ten families, each of which has a special totem as its basis.
It is from this basis that the things classed in the clan get all
their reality, for they are thought of as variant forms of the
totemic being; to return to our example, the rain, thunder,
lightning, clouds, hail and winter are regarded as different sorts
of crows. When brought together, these ten families of things
make up a complete and systematic representation of the world;
and this representation is religious, for religious notions furnish
its basis. Far from being limited to one or two categories of
beings, the domain of totemic religion extends to the final limits
of the known universe. Just like the Greek religion, it puts the
divine everywhere; the celebrated formula
παντὰ πλήρη θεῶν
(everything is full of the gods), might equally well serve it as
motto.
However, if totemism is to be represented thus, the notion of
it which has long been held must be modified on one essential
point. Until the discoveries of recent years, it was made to
consist entirely in the cult of one particular totem, and it was
defined as the religion of the clan. From this point of view,
each tribe seemed to have as many totemic religions, each independent
of the others, as it had different clans. This conception
was also in harmony with the idea currently held of the clan; in
fact, this was regarded as an autonomous society,[484] more or less
closed to other similar societies, or having only external and
superficial relations with these latter. But the reality is more
complex. Undoubtedly, the cult of each totem has its home
in the corresponding clan; it is there, and only there, that it is
celebrated; it is members of the clan who have charge of it;
it is through them that it is transmitted from one generation
to another, along with the beliefs which are its basis. But it is
also true that the different totemic cults thus practised within
a single tribe do not have a parallel development, though remaining
ignorant of each other, as if each of them constituted
a complete and self-sufficing religion. On the contrary, they
mutually imply each other; they are only the parts of a single
whole, the elements of a single religion. The men of one clan
never regard the beliefs of neighbouring clans with that indifference,
scepticism or hostility which one religion ordinarily
inspires for another which is foreign to it; they partake of these
beliefs themselves. The Crow people are also convinced that
the Snake people have a mythical serpent as ancestor, and that
they owe special virtues and marvellous powers to this origin.
And have we not seen that at least in certain conditions, a man
may eat a totem that is not his own only after he has observed
certain ritual formalities? Especially, he must demand the
permission of the men of this totem, if any are present. So for
him also, this food is not entirely profane; he also admits that
there are intimate affinities between the members of a clan of
which he is not a member and the animal whose name they bear.
Also, this community of belief is sometimes shown in the cult.
If in theory the rites concerning a totem can be performed only
by the men of this totem, nevertheless representatives of different
clans frequently assist at them. It sometimes happens that
their part is not simply that of spectators; it is true that they
do not officiate, but they decorate the officiants and prepare
the service. They themselves have an interest in its being
celebrated; therefore, in certain tribes, it is they who invite the
qualified clan to proceed with the ceremonies.[485] There is even a
whole cycle of rites which must take place in the presence of the
assembled tribe: these are the totemic ceremonies of initiation.[486]
Finally, the totemic organization, such as we have just
described it, must obviously be the result of some sort of an
indistinct understanding between all the members of the tribe.
It is impossible that each clan should have made its beliefs in
an absolutely independent manner; it is absolutely necessary
that the cults of the different totems should be in some way
adjusted to each other, since they complete one another exactly.
In fact, we have seen that normally a single totem is not repeated
twice in the same tribe, and that the whole universe is divided
up among the totems thus constituted in such a way that the
same object is not found in two different clans. So methodical
a division could never have been made without an agreement,
tacit or planned, in which the whole tribe participated. So the
group of beliefs which thus arise are partially (but only partially)
a tribal affair.[487]
To sum up, then, in order to form an adequate idea of totemism,
we must not confine ourselves within the limits of the clan, but
must consider the tribe as a whole. It is true that the particular
cult of each clan enjoys a very great autonomy; we can now see
that it is within the clan that the active ferment of the religious life
takes place. But it is also true that these cults fit into each other
and the totemic religion is a complex system formed by their union,
just as Greek polytheism was made by the union of all the particular
cults addressed to the different divinities. We have just shown
that, thus understood, totemism also has it cosmology.
Up to the present, we have studied totemism only as a
public institution: the only totems of which we have
spoken are common to a clan, a phratry or, in a sense, to a tribe;[488]
an individual has a part in them only as a member of a group.
But we know that there is no religion which does not have an
individual aspect. This general observation is applicable to
totemism. In addition to the impersonal and collective totems
which hold the first place, there are others which are peculiar
to each individual, which express his personality, and whose cult
he celebrates in private.
In certain Australian tribes, and in the majority of the Indian
tribes of North America,[489] each individual personally sustains
relations with some determined object, which are comparable
to those which each clan sustains with its totem. This is sometimes
an inanimate being or an artificial object; but it is generally
an animal. In certain cases, a special part of the organism, such
as the head, the feet or the liver, fulfils this office.[490]
The name of the thing also serves as the name of the individual.
It is his personal name, his forename, which is added to that of
the collective totem, as the praenomen of the Romans was to the
nomen gentilicium. It is true that this fact is not reported except
in a certain number of societies,[491] but it is probably general. In
fact, we shall presently show that there is an identity of nature
between the individual and the thing; now an identity of nature
implies one of name. Being given in the course of especially
important religious ceremonies, this forename has a sacred
character. It is not pronounced in the ordinary circumstances
of profane life. It even happens that the word designating this
object in the ordinary language must be modified to a greater
or less extent if it is to serve in this particular case.[492] This is
because the terms of the usual language are excluded from the
religious life.
In certain American tribes, at least, this name is reinforced
by an emblem belonging to each individual and representing,
under various forms, the thing designated by the name. For
example, each Mandan wears the skin of the animal of which he
is the namesake.[493] If it is a bird, he decorates himself with its
feathers.[494] The Hurons and Algonquins tattoo their bodies with
its image.[495] It is represented on their arms.[496] Among the north-western
tribes, the individual emblem, just like the collective
emblem of the clan, is carved or engraved on the utensils, houses,[497]
etc.; it serves as a mark of ownership.[498] Frequently the two
coats-of-arms are combined together, which partially explains the
great diversity of aspects presented by the totemic escutcheons
among these peoples.[499]
Between the individual and his animal namesake there exist
the very closest bonds. The man participates in the nature of
the animal; he has its good qualities as well as its faults. For
example, a man having the eagle as his coat-of-arms is believed
to possess the gift of seeing into the future; if he is named after
a bear, they say that he is apt to be wounded in combat, for the
bear is heavy and slow and easily caught;[500] if the animal is
despised, the man is the object of the same sentiment.[501] The
relationship of the two is even so close that it is believed that
in certain circumstances, especially in case of danger, the man
can take the form of the animal.[502] Inversely, the animal is
regarded as a double of the man, as his alter ego.[503] The association
of the two is so close that their destinies are frequently thought
to be bound up together: nothing can happen to one without the
other's feeling a reaction.[504] If the animal dies, the life of the man
is menaced. Thus it comes to be a very general rule that one
should not kill the animal, nor eat its flesh. This interdiction,
which, when concerning the totem of the clan, allows of all sorts
of attenuations and modifications, is now much more formal
and absolute.[505]
On its side, the animal protects the man and serves him as
a sort of patron. It informs him of possible dangers and of the
way of escaping them;[506] they say that it is his friend.[507] Since it
frequently happens to possess marvellous powers, it communicates
them to its human associate, who believes in them, even under
the proof of bullets, arrows, and blows of every sort.[508] This
confidence of an individual in the efficacy of his protector is so
great that he braves the greatest dangers and accomplishes the
most disconcerting feats with an intrepid serenity: faith gives
him the necessary courage and strength.[509] However, the relations
of a man with his patron are not purely and simply those of
dependence. He, on his side, is able to act upon the animal.
He gives it orders; he has influence over it. A Kurnai having
the shark as ally and friend believes that he can disperse the
sharks who menace a boat, by means of a charm.[510] In other cases,
the relations thus contracted are believed to confer upon the man
a special aptitude for hunting the animal with success.[511]
The very nature of these relations seems clearly to imply
that the being to which each individual is thus associated is
only an individual itself, and not a species. A man does not
have a species as his alter ego. In fact, there are cases where it
is certainly a certain determined tree, rock or stone that fulfils
this function.[512] It must be thus every time that it is an animal,
and that the existences of the animal and the man are believed
to be connected. A man could not be united so closely to a
whole species, for there is not a day nor, so to speak, an instant
when the species does not lose some one of its members. Yet
the primitive has a certain incapacity for thinking of the individual
apart from the species; the bonds uniting him to the
one readily extend to the other; he confounds the two in the
same sentiment. Thus the entire species becomes sacred for
him.[513]
This protector is naturally given different names in different
societies: nagual among the Indians of Mexico,[514] manitou among
the Algonquins and okki among the Hurons,[515] snam among certain
Salish,[516] sulia among others,[517] budjan among the Yuin,[518] yunbeai
among the Euahlayi,[519] etc. Owing to the importance of these
beliefs and practices among the Indians of North America, some
have proposed creating a word nagualism or manitouism to
designate them.[520] But in giving them a special and distinctive
name, we run the risk of misunderstanding their relations with
the rest of totemism. In fact, the same principle is applied in
the one case to the clan and in the other to the individual. In
both cases we find the same belief that there are vital connections
between the things and the men, and that the former are endowed
with special powers, of which their human allies may also enjoy
the advantage. We also find the same custom of giving the man
the name of the thing with which he is associated and of adding
an emblem to this name. The totem is the patron of the clan, just
as the patron of the individual is his personal totem. So it is
important that our terminology should make the relationship
of the two systems apparent; that is why we, with Frazer,
shall give the name individual totemism to the cult rendered by
each individual to his patron. A further justification of this
expression is found in the fact that in certain cases the primitive
himself uses the same word to designate the totem of the clan
and the animal protector of the individual.[521] If Tylor and Powell
have rejected this term and demanded different ones for these
two sorts of religious institutions, it is because the collective totem
is, in their opinion, only a name or label, having no religious
character.[522] But we, on the contrary, know that it is a sacred
thing, and even more so than the protecting animal. Moreover,
the continuation of our study will show how these two varieties
of totemism are inseparable from each other.[523]
Yet, howsoever close the kinship between these two institutions
may be, there are important differences between them. While
the clan believes that it is the offspring of the animal or plant
serving it as totem, the individual does not believe that he has
any relationship of descent with his personal totem. It is a
friend, an associate, a protector; but it is not a relative. He
takes advantage of the virtues it is believed to possess; but he
is not of the same blood. In the second place, the members of
a clan allow neighbouring clans to eat of the animal whose
name they bear collectively, under the simple condition that
the necessary formalities shall be observed. But, on the contrary,
the individual respects the species to which his personal totem
belongs and also protects it against strangers, at least in those
parts where the destiny of the man is held to be bound up with
that of the animal.
But the chief difference between these two sorts of totems
is in the manner in which they are acquired.
The collective totem is a part of the civil status of each individual:
it is generally hereditary; in any case, it is birth
which designates it, and the wish of men counts for nothing.
Sometimes the child has the totem of his mother (Kamilaroi,
Dieri, Urabunna, etc.); sometimes that of his father (Narrinyeri,
Warramunga, etc.); sometimes the one predominating in the
locality where his mother conceived (Arunta, Loritja). But, on
the contrary, the individual totem is acquired by a deliberate
act:[524] a whole series of ritual operations are necessary to determine
it. The method generally employed by the Indians of
North America is as follows. About the time of puberty, as the
time for initiation approaches, the young man withdraws into
a distant place, for example, into a forest. There, during a
period varying from a few days to several years, he submits
himself to all sorts of exhausting and unnatural exercises. He
fasts, mortifies himself and inflicts various mutilations upon
himself. Now he wanders about, uttering violent cries and
veritable howls; now he lies extended, motionless and lamenting,
upon the ground. Sometimes he dances, prays and invokes his
ordinary divinities. At last, he thus gets himself into an extreme
state of super-excitation, verging on delirium. When he has
reached this paroxysm, his representations readily take on the
character of hallucinations. "When," says Heckewelder, "a
boy is on the eve of being initiated, he is submitted to an alternating
régime of fasts and medical treatment; he abstains
from all food and takes the most powerful and repugnant drugs:
at times, he drinks intoxicating concoctions until his mind
really wanders. Then he has, or thinks he has, visions and extraordinary
dreams to which he was of course predisposed by all
this training. He imagines himself flying through the air, advancing
under the ground, jumping from one mountain-top to
another across the valleys, and fighting and conquering giants
and monsters."[525] If in these circumstances he sees, or, as amounts
to the same thing, he thinks he sees, while dreaming or while
awake, an animal appearing to him in an attitude seeming to
show friendly intentions, then he imagines that he has discovered
the patron he awaited.[526]
Yet this procedure is rarely employed in Australia.[527] On this
continent, the personal totem seems to be imposed by a third
party, either at birth[528] or at the moment of initiation.[529] Generally
it is a relative who takes this part, or else a personage invested
with special powers, such as an old man or a magician. Sometimes
divination is used for this purpose. For example, on Charlotte
Bay, Cape Bedford or the Proserpine River, the grandmother or
some other old woman takes a little piece of umbilical cord to
which the placenta is still attached and whirls it about quite
violently. Meanwhile the other old women propose different
names. That one is adopted which happens to be pronounced
just at the moment when the cord breaks.[530] Among the Yarrai-kanna
of Cape York, after a tooth has been knocked out of the
young initiate, they give him a little water to rinse his mouth
and ask him to spit in a bucket full of water. The old men carefully
examine the clot formed by the blood and saliva thus spit
out, and the natural object whose shape it resembles becomes
the personal totem of the young man.[531] In other cases, the totem
is transmitted from one individual to another, for example from
father to son, or uncle to nephew.[532] This method is also used in
America. In a case reported by Hill Tout, the operator was
a shaman,[533] who wished to transmit his totem to his nephew.
"The uncle took the symbol of his snam (his personal totem),
which in this case was a dried bird's skin, and bade his nephew
breathe upon it. He then blew upon it also himself, uttered some
mystic words and the dried skin seemed to Paul (the nephew) to
become a living bird, which flew about them a moment or two
and then finally disappeared. Paul was then instructed by his
uncle to procure that day a bird's skin of the same kind as his
uncle's and wear it on his person. This he did, and that night
he had a dream, in which the snam appeared to him in the shape
of a human being, disclosed to him its mystic name by which it
might be summoned, and promised him protection."[534]
Not only is the individual totem acquired and not given, but
ordinarily the acquisition of one is not obligatory. In the first
place, there are a multitude of tribes in Australia where the custom
seems to be absolutely unknown.[535] Also, even where it does
exist, it is frequently optional. Thus among the Euahlayi,
while all the magicians have individual totems from which they
get their powers, there are a great number of laymen who have
none at all. It is a favour given by the magician, but which he
reserves for his friends, his favourites and those who aspire to
becoming his colleagues.[536] Likewise, among certain Salish, persons
desiring to excel especially either in fighting or in hunting, or
aspirants to the position of shaman, are the only ones who
provide themselves with protectors of this sort.[537] So among
certain peoples, at least, the individual totem seems to be considered
an advantage and convenient thing rather than a necessity.
It is a good thing to have, but a man can do without one. Inversely,
a man need not limit himself to a single totem; if he
wishes to be more fully protected, nothing hinders his seeking
and acquiring several,[538] and if the one he has fulfils its part badly,
he can change it.[539]
But while it is more optional and free, individual totemism
contains within it a force of resistance never attained by the
totemism of the clan. One of the chief informers of Hill Tout
was a baptized Salish; however, though he had sincerely
abandoned the faith of his fathers, and though he had become
a model catechist, still his faith in the efficacy of the personal
totems remained unshaken.[540] Similarly, though no visible traces
of collective totemism remain in civilized countries, the idea
that there is a connection between each individual and some
animal, plant or other object, is at the bottom of many customs
still observable in many European countries.[541]
Between collective totemism and individual totemism there is
an intermediate form partaking of the characteristics of each:
this is sexual totemism. It is found only in Australia and in a
small number of tribes. It is mentioned especially in Victoria
and New South Wales.[542] Mathews, it is true, claims to have
observed it in all the parts of Australia that he has visited, but
he gives no precise facts to support this affirmation.[543]
Among these different peoples, all the men of the tribe on the
one hand, and all the women on the other, to whatever special
clan they may belong, form, as it were, two distinct and even
antagonistic societies. Now each of these two sexual corporations
believes that it is united by mystical bonds to a determined
animal. Among the Kurnai, all the men think they are brothers,
as it were, of the emu-wren (Yeerŭng), all the women, that they
are as sisters of the linnet (Djeetgŭn); all the men are Yeerŭng
and all the women are Djeetgŭn. Among the Wotjobaluk and the
Wurunjerri, it is the bat and the nightjar (a species of screech-owl)
respectively who take this rôle. In other tribes, the woodpecker
is substituted for the nightjar. Each sex regards the animal to
which it is thus related as a sort of protector which must be treated
with the greatest regard; it is also forbidden to kill and eat it.[544]
Thus this protecting animal plays the same part in relation
to the sexual society that the totem of the clan plays to this
latter group. So the expression sexual totemism, which we
borrow from Frazer,[545] is justified. This new sort of totem
resembles that of the clan particularly in that it, too, is
collective; it belongs to all the people of one sex indiscriminately.
It also resembles this form in that it implies a relationship of
descent and consanguinity between the animal patron and the
corresponding sex: among the Kurnai, all the men are believed to
be descended from Yeerŭng and all the women from Djeetgŭn.[546]
The first observer to point out this curious institution described
it, in 1834, in the following terms: "Tilmun, a little bird the
size of a thrush (it is a sort of woodpecker), is supposed by the
women to be the first maker of women. These birds are held in
veneration by the women only."[547] So it was a great ancestor.
But in other ways, this same totem resembles the individual
totem. In fact, it is believed that each member of a sexual
group is personally united to a determined individual of the
corresponding animal species. The two lives are so closely
associated that the death of the animal brings about that of the
man. "The life of a bat," say the Wotjobaluk, "is the life of a
man."[548] That is why each sex not only respects its own totem,
but forces the members of the other to do so as well. Every
violation of this interdiction gives rise to actual bloody battles
between the men and the women.[549]
Finally, the really original feature of these totems is that they
are, in a sense, a sort of tribal totems. In fact, they result from
men's representing the tribe as descended as a whole from one
couple of mythical beings. Such a belief seems to demonstrate
clearly that the tribal sentiment has acquired sufficient force
to resist, at least to a considerable extent, the particularism of
the clans. In regard to the distinct origins assigned to men
and to women, it must be said that its cause is to be sought in
the separate conditions in which the men and the women live.[550]
It would be interesting to know how the sexual totems are
related to the totems of the clans, according to the theory of the
Australians, what relations there were between the two ancestors
thus placed at the commencement of the tribe, and from which
one each special clan is believed to be descended. But the ethnographical
data at our present disposal do not allow us to resolve
these questions. Moreover, however natural and even necessary
it may appear to us, it is very possible that the natives never
raised it. They do not feel the need of co-ordinating and systematizing
their beliefs as strongly as we do.[551]
The beliefs which we have just summarized are manifestly
of a religious nature, since they imply a division of things
into sacred and profane. It is certain that there is no thought
of spiritual beings, and in the course of our exposition we have
not even had occasion to pronounce the words, spirits, genii or
divine personalities. But if certain writers, of whom we shall
have something more to say presently, have, for this reason,
refused to regard totemism as a religion, it is because they have
an inexact notion of what religious phenomena are.
On the other hand, we are assured that this religion is the
most primitive one that is now observable and even, in all
probability, that has ever existed. In fact, it is inseparable from
a social organization on a clan basis. Not only is it impossible,
as we have already pointed out, to define it except in connection
with the clan, but it even seems as though the clan could not
exist, in the form it has taken in a great number of Australian
societies, without the totem. For the members of a single clan
are not united to each other either by a common habitat or
by common blood, as they are not necessarily consanguineous
and are frequently scattered over different parts of the tribal
territory. Their unity comes solely from their having the same
name and the same emblem, their believing that they have the
same relations with the same categories of things, their practising
the same rites, or, in a word, from their participating in the
same totemic cult. Thus totemism and the clan mutually imply
each other, in so far, at least, as the latter is not confounded with
the local group. Now the social organization on a clan basis is
the simplest which we know. In fact, it exists in all its essential
elements from the moment when the society includes two primary
clans; consequently, we may say that there are none more
rudimentary, as long as societies reduced to a single clan have
not been discovered, and we believe that up to the present no
traces of such have been found. A religion so closely connected
to a social system surpassing all others in simplicity may well
be regarded as the most elementary religion we can possibly
know. If we succeed in discovering the origins of the beliefs
which we have just analysed, we shall very probably discover
at the same time the causes leading to the rise of the religious
sentiment in humanity.
But before treating this question for ourselves, we must examine
the most authorized solutions of it which have already been
proposed.
In the first place, we find a group of scholars who believe
that they can account for totemism by deriving it from some
previous religion.
For Tylor[552] and Wilken,[553] totemism is a special form of the
cult of the ancestors; it was the widespread doctrine of the
transmigration of souls that served as a bridge between these
two religious systems. A large number of peoples believe that
after death, the soul does not remain disincarnate for ever, but
presently animates another living body; on the other hand,
"the lower psychology, drawing no definite line of demarcation
between the souls of men and of beasts, can at least admit without
difficulty the transmigration of human souls into the bodies
of the lower animals."[554] Tylor cites a certain number of cases.[555]
Under these circumstances, the religious respect inspired by the
ancestor is quite naturally attached to the animal or plant
with which he is presently confounded. The animal thus serving
as a receptacle for a venerated being becomes a holy thing, the
object of a cult, that is, a totem, for all the descendants of the
ancestor, who form the clan descended from him.
Facts pointed out by Wilken among the societies of the Malay
Archipelago would tend to prove that it really was in this manner
that the totemic beliefs originated. In Java and Sumatra,
crocodiles are especially honoured; they are regarded as benevolent
protectors who must not be killed; offerings are made to
them. Now the cult thus rendered to them is due to their being
supposed to incarnate the souls of ancestors. The Malays of
the Philippines consider the crocodile their grandfather; the
tiger is treated in the same way for the same reasons. Similar
beliefs have been observed among the Bantous.[556] In Melanesia
it sometimes happens that an influential man, at the moment of
death, announces his desire to reincarnate himself in a certain
animal or plant; it is easily understood how the object thus
chosen as his posthumous residence becomes sacred for his whole
family.[557] So, far from being a primitive fact, totemism would
seem to be the product of a more complex religion which preceded
it.[558]
But the societies from which these facts were taken had
already arrived at a rather advanced stage of culture; in any
case, they had passed the stage of pure totemism. They have
families and not totemic clans.[559] Even the majority of the animals
to which religious honours are thus rendered are venerated, not
by special groups of families, but by the tribes as a whole. So
if these beliefs and practices do have some connection with
ancient totemic cults, they now represent only altered forms of
them[560] and are consequently not very well fitted for showing
us their origins. It is not by studying an institution at the
moment when it is in full decadence that we can learn how it
was formed. If we want to know how totemism originated,
it is neither in Java nor Sumatra nor Melanesia that we must
study it, but in Australia. Here we find neither a cult of the
dead[561] nor the doctrine of transmigration. Of course they believe
that the mythical heroes, the founders of the clan, reincarnate
themselves periodically; but this is in human bodies only; each
birth, as we shall see, is the product of one of these reincarnations.
So if the animals of the totemic species are the object of rites, it
is not because the ancestral souls are believed to reside in them.
It is true that the first ancestors are frequently represented
under the form of an animal, and this very common representation
is an important fact for which we must account; but it was
not the belief in metempsychosis which gave it birth, for this
belief is unknown among Australian societies.
Moreover, far from being able to explain totemism, this
belief takes for granted one of the fundamental principles upon
which this rests; that is to say, it begs the question to be explained.
It, just as much as totemism, implies that man is
considered a close relative of the animal; for if these two kingdoms
were clearly distinguished in the mind, men would never
believe that a human soul could pass so easily from one into
the other. It is even necessary that the body of the animal be
considered its true home, for it is believed to go there as soon as
it regains its liberty. Now while the doctrine of transmigration
postulates this singular affinity, it offers no explanation of it.
The only explanation offered by Tylor is that men sometimes
resemble in certain traits the anatomy and physiology of the
animal. "The half-human features and actions and characters
of animals are watched with wondering sympathy by the savage,
as by the child. The beast is the very incarnation of familiar
qualities of man: and such names as lion, bear, fox, owl, parrot,
viper, worm, when we apply them as epithets to men, condense
into a word some leading features of a human life."[562] But even
if these resemblances are met with, they are uncertain and
exceptional; before all else, men resemble their relatives and
companions, and not plants and animals. Such rare and
questionable analogies could not overcome such unanimous
proofs, nor could they lead a man to think of himself and his
forefathers in forms contradicted by daily experience. So this
question remains untouched, and as long as it is not answered,
we cannot say that totemism is explained.[563]
Finally, this whole theory rests upon a fundamental misunderstanding.
For Tylor as for Wundt, totemism is only a particular
case of the cult of animals.[564] But we, on the contrary, know that
it is something very different from a sort of animal-worship.[565]
The animal is never adored; the man is nearly its equal and
sometimes even treats it as his possession, so far is he from being
subordinate to it like a believer before his god. If the animals
of the totemic species are really believed to incarnate the ancestors,
the members of foreign clans would not be allowed to eat their
flesh freely. In reality, it is not to the animal as such that the
cult is addressed, but to the emblem and the image of the totem.
Now between this religion of the emblem and the ancestor-cult,
there is no connection whatsoever.
While Tylor derives totemism from the ancestor-cult, Jevons
derives it from the nature-cult,[566] and here is how he does so.
When, under the impulse of the surprise occasioned by the
irregularities observed in the course of phenomena, men had
once peopled the world with supernatural beings,[567] they felt the
need of making agreements with these redoubtable forces with
which they had surrounded themselves. They understood that
the best way to escape being overwhelmed by them was to ally
themselves to some of them, and thus make sure of their aid. But
at this period of history men knew no other form of alliance
and association than the one resulting from kinship. All the
members of a single clan aid each other mutually because they
are kindred or, as amounts to the same thing, because they think
they are; on the other hand, different clans treat each other
as enemies because they are of different blood. So the only way
of assuring themselves of the support of these supernatural
beings was to adopt them as kindred and to be adopted by them
in the same quality: the well-known processes of the blood-covenant
permitted them to attain this result quite easily.
But since at this period, the individual did not yet have a real
personality, and was regarded only as a part of his group, or
clan, it was the clan as a whole, and not the individual, which
collectively contracted this relationship. For the same reason,
it was contracted, not with a particular object, but with the
natural group or species of which this object was a part; for
men think of the world as they think of themselves, and just
as they could not conceive themselves apart from their clans, so
they were unable to conceive of anything else as distinct from
the species to which it belonged. Now a species of things united
to a clan by a bond of kinship is, says Jevons, a totem.
In fact, it is certain that totemism implies the close association
of a clan to a determined category of objects. But that this
association was contracted with a deliberate design and in the
full consciousness of an end sought after, as Jevons would have
us believe, is a statement having but little harmony with what
history teaches. Religions are too complex, and answer to needs
that are too many and too obscure, to have their origin in a
premeditated act of the will. And while it sins through over-simplicity,
this hypothesis is also highly improbable. It says
that men sought to assure themselves of the aid of the supernatural
beings upon which things depend. Then they should
preferably have addressed themselves to the most powerful
of these, and to those whose protection promised to be the most
beneficial.[568] But quite on the contrary, the beings with whom
they have formed this mystic kinship are often among the most
humble which exist. Also, if it were only a question of making
allies and defenders, they would have tried to make as many as
possible; for one cannot be defended too well. Yet as a matter
of fact, each clan systematically contents itself with a single
totem, that is to say, with one single protector, leaving the
other clans to enjoy their own in perfect liberty. Each group
confines itself within its own religious domain, never seeking to
trespass upon that of its neighbours. This reserve and moderation
are inexplicable according to the hypothesis under consideration.
Moreover, all these theories are wrong in omitting one question
which dominates the whole subject. We have seen that there
are two sorts of totemism: that of the individual and that of the
clan. There is too evident a kinship between the two for them
not to have some connection with each other. So we may well
ask if one is not derived from the other, and, in the case of an
affirmative answer, which is the more primitive; according to
the solution accepted, the problem of the origins of totemism
will be posed in different terms. This question becomes all the
more necessary because of its general interest. Individual
totemism is an individual aspect of the totemic cult. Then if it
was the primitive fact, we must say that religion is born in the
consciousness of the individual, that before all else, it answers to
individual aspirations, and that its collective form is merely
secondary.
The desire for an undue simplicity, with which ethnologists
and sociologists are too frequently inspired, has naturally led
many scholars to explain, here as elsewhere, the complex by the
simple, the totem of the group by that of the individual. Such,
in fact, is the theory sustained by Frazer in his Golden Bough,[569]
by Hill Tout,[570] by Miss Fletcher,[571] by Boas[572] and by Swanton.[573]
It has the additional advantage of being in harmony with the
conception of religion which is currently held; this is quite
generally regarded as something intimate and personal. From
this point of view, the totem of the clan can only be an individual
totem which has become generalized. Some eminent man,
having found from experience the value of a totem he chose for
himself by his own free will, transmitted it to his descendants;
these latter, multiplying as time went on, finally formed the
extended family known as a clan, and thus the totem became
collective.
Hill Tout believes that he has found a proof supporting this
theory in the way totemism has spread among certain societies
of North-western America, especially among the Salish and
certain Indians on the Thompson River. Individual totemism
and the clan totemism are both found among these peoples;
but they either do not co-exist in the same tribe, or else, when
they do co-exist, they are not equally developed. They vary
in an inverse proportion to each other; where the clan totem
tends to become the general rule, the individual totem tends to
disappear, and vice versa. Is that not as much as to say that the
first is a more recent form of the second, which excludes it by
replacing it?[574] Mythology seems to confirm this interpretation.
In these same societies, in fact, the ancestor of the clan is not a
totemic animal; the founder of the group is generally represented
in the form of a human being who, at a certain time,
had entered into familiar relations with a fabulous animal from
whom he received his totemic emblem. This emblem, together
with the special powers which are attached to it, was then passed
on to the descendants of this mythical hero by right of heritage.
So these people themselves seem to consider the collective
totem as an individual one, perpetuated in the same family.[575]
Moreover, it still happens to-day that a father transmits his own
totem to his children. So if we imagine that the collective totem
had, in a general way, this same origin, we are assuming that the
same thing took place in the past which is still observable to-day.[576]
It is still to be explained whence the individual totem comes.
The reply given to this question varies with different authors.
Hill Tout considers it a particular case of fetishism. Feeling
himself surrounded on all sides by dreaded spirits, the individual
experienced that sentiment which we have just seen Jevons
attribute to the clan: in order that he might continue to exist,
he sought some powerful protector in this mysterious world.
Thus the use of a personal totem became established.[577] For
Frazer, this same institution was rather a subterfuge or trick of
war, invented by men that they might escape from certain dangers.
It is known that according to a belief which is very widespread
in a large number of inferior societies, the human soul is able,
without great inconvenience, to quit the body it inhabits for a
while; howsoever far away it may be, it continues to animate
this body by a sort of detached control. Then, in certain critical
moments, when life is supposed to be particularly menaced, it
may be desirable to withdraw the soul from the body and lead
it to some place or into some object where it will be in greater
security. In fact, there are a certain number of practices whose
object is to withdraw the soul in order to protect it from some
danger, either real or imaginary. For example, at the moment
when men are going to enter a newly-built house, a magician
removes their souls and puts them in a sack, to be saved and
returned to their proprietors after the door-sill has been crossed.
This is because the moment when one enters a new house is
exceptionally critical; one may have disturbed, and consequently
offended, the spirits who reside in the ground and especially
under the sill, and if precautions are not taken, these could make
a man pay dearly for his audacity. But when this danger is
once passed, and one has been able to anticipate their anger
and even to make sure of their favour through the accomplishment
of certain rites, the souls may safely retake their accustomed
place.[578] It is this same belief which gave birth to the personal
totem. To protect themselves from sorcery, men thought it
wise to hide their souls in the anonymous crowd of some species
of animal or vegetable. But after these relations had once been
established, each individual found himself closely united to the
animal or plant where his own vital principle was believed to
reside. Two beings so closely united were finally thought to be
practically indistinguishable: men believed that each participated
in the nature of the other. When this belief had once
been accepted, it facilitated and hastened the transformation
of the personal totem into an hereditary, and consequently a
collective, totem; for it seemed quite evident that this kinship of
nature should be transmitted hereditarily from father to child.
We shall not stop to discuss these two explanations of the
individual totem at length: they are ingenious fabrications of
the mind, but they completely lack all positive proof. If we are
going to reduce totemism to fetishism, we must first establish
that the latter is prior to the former; now, not merely is no fact
brought forward to support this hypothesis, but it is even contradicted
by everything that we know. The ill-determined group
of rites going under the name of fetishism seem to appear only
among peoples who have already attained to a certain degree of
civilization; but it is a species of cult unknown in Australia. It
is true that some have described the churinga as a fetish;[579] but
even supposing that this qualification were justified, it would
not prove the priority which is postulated. Quite on the contrary,
the churinga presupposes totemism, since it is essentially an
instrument of the totemic cult and owes the virtues attributed
to it to totemic beliefs alone.
As for the theory of Frazer, it presupposes a thoroughgoing
idiocy on the part of the primitive which known facts do not
allow us to attribute to him. He does have a logic, however
strange this may at times appear; now unless he were completely
deprived of it, he could never be guilty of the reasoning imputed
to him. Nothing could be more natural than that he should
believe it possible to assure the survival of his soul by hiding it
in a secret and inaccessible place, as so many heroes of myths
and legends are said to have done. But why should he think it
safer in the body of an animal than in his own? Of course, if it
were thus lost in space, it might have a chance to escape the
spells of a magician more readily, but at the same time it would
be prepared for the blows of hunters. It is a strange way of
sheltering it to place it in a material form exposing it to risks at
every instant.[580] But above all, it is inconceivable that a whole
people should allow themselves to be carried into such an
aberration.[581] Finally, in a very large number of cases, the function
of the individual totem is very different from that assigned it by
Frazer; before all else, it is a means of conferring extraordinary
powers upon magicians, hunters or warriors.[582] As to the kinship
of the man and the thing, with all the inconveniences it implies,
it is accepted as a consequence of the rite; but it is not desired
in its and for itself.
There is still less occasion for delaying over this controversy
since it concerns no real problem. What we must know before
everything else is whether or not the individual totem is really
a primitive fact, from which the collective totem was derived;
for, according to the reply given to this question, we must seek
the home of the religious life in one or the other of two opposite
directions.
Against the hypothesis of Hill Tout, Miss Fletcher, Boas and
Frazer there is such an array of decisive facts that one is surprised
that it has been so readily and so generally accepted.
In the first place, we know that a man frequently has the
greatest interest not only in respecting, but also in making his
companions respect the species serving him as personal totem;
his own life is connected with it. Then if collective totemism
were only a generalized form of individual totemism, it too
should repose upon this same principle. Not only should the
men of a clan abstain from killing and eating their totem-animal
themselves, but they should also do all in their power to force
this same abstention upon others. But as a matter of fact, far
from imposing such a renunciation upon the whole tribe, each
clan, by rites which we shall describe below, takes care that the
plant or animal whose name it bears shall increase and prosper,
so as to assure an abundant supply of food for the other clans.
So we must at least admit that in becoming collective, individual
totemism was transformed profoundly, and we must therefore
account for this transformation.
In the second place, how is it possible to explain, from this
point of view, the fact that except where totemism is in full
decay, two clans of a single tribe always have different totems?
It seems that nothing prevents two or several members of a
single tribe, even when there is no kinship between them, from
choosing their personal totem in the same animal species and
passing it on to their descendants. Does it not happen to-day
that two distinct families have the same name? The carefully
regulated way in which the totems and sub-totems are divided
up, first between the two phratries and then among the various
clans of the phratry, obviously presupposes a social agreement
and a collective organization. This is as much as to say that
totemism is something more than an individual practice spontaneously
generalized.
Moreover, collective totemism cannot be deduced from individual
totemism except by a misunderstanding of the differences
separating the two. The one is acquired by the child at birth;
it is a part of his civil status. The other is acquired during the
course of his life; it presupposes the accomplishment of a
determined rite and a change of condition. Some seek to diminish
this distance by inserting between the two, as a sort of middle
term, the right of each possessor of a totem to transmit it to
whomsoever he pleases. But wherever these transfers do take
place, they are rare and relatively exceptional acts; they cannot
be performed except by magicians or other personages invested
with special powers;[583] in any case, they are possible only through
ritual ceremonies which bring about the change. So it is necessary
to explain how this prerogative of a few became the right of all;
how that which at first implied a profound change in the religious
and moral constitution of the individual, was able to become an
element of this constitution; and finally, how a transmission
which at first was the consequence of a rite was later believed to
operate automatically from the nature of things and without the
intervention of any human will.
In support of his interpretation, Hill Tout claims that certain
myths give the totem of the clan an individual origin: they
tell how the totemic emblem was acquired by some special
individual, who then transmitted it to his descendants. But in
the first place, it is to be remarked that these myths are all taken
from the Indian tribes of North America, which are societies
arrived at a rather high degree of culture. How could a
mythology so far removed from the origins of things aid in
reconstituting the primitive form of an institution with any
degree of certainty? There are many chances for intermediate
causes to have gravely disfigured the recollection which these
people have been able to retain. Moreover, it is very easy to
answer these myths with others, which seem much more primitive
and whose signification is quite different. The totem is there
represented as the very being from whom the clan is descended.
So it must be that it constitutes the substance of the clan; men
have it within them from their birth; it is a part of their very
flesh and blood, so far are they from having received it from
without.[584] More than that, the very myths upon which Hill
Tout relies contain an echo of this ancient conception. The
founder who gave his name to the clan certainly had a human
form; but he was a man who, after living among animals of a certain
species, finally came to resemble them. This is undoubtedly
because a time came when the mind was too cultivated to admit
any longer, as it had formerly done, that men might have been
born of animals; so the animal ancestor, now become inconceivable,
is replaced by a human being; but the idea persists
that this man had acquired certain characteristics of the animal
either by imitation or by some other process. Thus even this late
mythology bears the mark of a more remote epoch when the totem
of the clan was never regarded as a sort of individual creation.
But this hypothesis does not merely raise grave logical difficulties;
it is contradicted directly by the following facts.
If individual totemism were the initial fact, it should be more
developed and apparent, the more primitive the societies are,
and inversely, it should lose ground and disappear before the
other among the more advanced peoples. Now it is the contrary
which is true. The Australian tribes are far behind those of
North America; yet Australia is the classic land of collective
totemism. In the great majority of the tribes, it alone is found,
while we do not know a single one where individual totemism alone
is practised.[585] This latter is found in a characteristic form only
in an infinitesimal number of tribes.[586] Even where it is met with
it is generally in a rudimentary form. It is made up of individual
and optional practices having no generality. Only magicians
are acquainted with the art of creating mysterious relationships
with species of animals to which they are not related by nature.
Ordinary people do not enjoy this privilege.[587] In America, on
the contrary, the collective totem is in full decadence; in the
societies of the North-west especially, its religious character is
almost gone. Inversely, the individual totem plays a considerable
rôle among these same peoples. A very great efficacy is attributed
to it; it has become a real public institution. This is because
it is the sign of a higher civilization. This is undoubtedly the
explanation of the inversion of these two forms of totemism,
which Hill Tout believes he has observed among the Salish.
If in those parts where collective totemism is the most fully
developed the other form is almost lacking, it is not because the
second has disappeared before the first, but rather, because the
conditions necessary for its existence have not yet been fully
realized.
But a fact which is still more conclusive is that individual
totemism, far from having given birth to the totemism of the
clan, presupposes this latter. It is within the frame of collective
totemism that it is born and lives: it is an integral part of it.
In fact, in those very societies where it is preponderating, the
novices do not have the right of taking any animal as their
individual totem; to each clan a certain definite number of
species are assigned, outside of which it may not choose. In
return, those belonging to it thus are its exclusive property;
members of other clans may not usurp them.[588] They are thought
to have relations of close dependence upon the one serving as
totem to the clan as a whole. There are even cases where it is
quite possible to observe these relations: the individual aspect
represents a part or a particular aspect of the collective totem.[589]
Among the Wotjobaluk, each member of the clan considers the
personal totems of his companions as being his own after a fashion;[590]
so they are probably sub-totems. Now the sub-totem supposes
the totem, as the species supposes the class. Thus the first form
of individual religion met with in history appears, not as the
active principle of all public religion, but, on the contrary,
as a simple aspect of this latter. The cult which the individual
organizes for himself in his own inner conscience, far from being
the germ of the collective cult, is only this latter adapted to the
personal needs of the individual.
In a more recent study,[591] which the works of Spencer and
Gillen suggested to him, Frazer has attempted to substitute a
new explanation of totemism for the one he first proposed,
and which we have just been discussing. It rests on the postulate
that the totemism of the Arunta is the most primitive which we
know; Frazer even goes so far as to say that it scarcely differs
from the really and absolutely original type.[592]
The singular thing about it is that the totems are attached
neither to persons nor to determined groups of persons, but to
localities. In fact, each totem has its centre at some definite
spot. It is there that the souls of the first ancestors, who founded
the totemic group at the beginning of time, are believed to have
their preferred residence. It is there that the sanctuary is located
where the churinga are kept; there the cult is celebrated. It is
also this geographical distribution of totems which determines
the manner in which the clans are recruited. The child has
neither the totem of his father nor that of his mother, but the
one whose centre is at the spot where the mother believes that
she felt the first symptoms of approaching maternity. For it is
said that the Arunta is ignorant of the exact relation existing
between generation and the sexual act;[593] he thinks that every
conception is due to a sort of mystic fecundation. According
to him, it is due to the entrance of the soul of an ancestor into
the body of a woman and its becoming the principle of a new
life there. So at the moment when a woman feels the first
tremblings of the child, she imagines that one of the souls whose
principal residence is at the place where she happens to be, has
just entered into her. As the child who is presently born is merely
the reincarnation of this ancestor, he necessarily has the same
totem; thus his totem is determined by the locality where he is
believed to have been mysteriously conceived.
Now, it is this local totemism which represents the original
form of totemism; at most, it is separated from this by a very
short step. This is how Frazer explains its genesis.
At the exact moment when the woman realizes that she is
pregnant, she must think that the spirit by which she feels
herself possessed has come to her from the objects about her,
and especially from one of those which attract her attention at
the moment. So if she is engaged in plucking a plant, or watching
an animal, she believes that the soul of this plant or animal has
passed into her. Among the things to which she will be particularly
inclined to attribute her condition are, in the first place, the
things she has just eaten. If she has recently eaten emu or yam,
she will not doubt that an emu or yam has been born in her and
is developing. Under these conditions, it is evident how the
child, in his turn, will be considered a sort of yam or emu, how
he regards himself as a relative of the plant or animal of the
same species, how he has sympathy and regard for them, how he
refuses to eat them, etc.[594] From this moment, totemism exists
in its essential traits: it is the native's theory of conception
that gave rise to it, so Frazer calls this primitive totemism
conceptional.
It is from this original type that all the other forms of totemism
are derived. "When several women had, one after the other,
felt the first premonitions of maternity at the same spot and
under the same circumstances, the place would come to be regarded
as haunted by spirits of a peculiar sort; and so the
whole country might in time be dotted over with totem centres
and distributed into totem districts."[595] This is how the local
totemism of the Arunta originated. In order that the totems
may subsequently be detached from their territorial base, it is
sufficient to think that the ancestral souls, instead of remaining
immutably fixed to a determined spot, are able to move freely
over the surface of the territory and that in their voyages they
follow the men and women of the same totem as themselves.
In this way, a woman may be impregnated by her own totem
or that of her husband, though residing in a different totemic
district. According to whether it is believed that it is the ancestor
of the husband or of the wife who thus follow the family about,
seeking occasions to reincarnate themselves, the totem of the
child will be that of his father or mother. In fact, it is in just
this way that the Guanji and Umbaia on the one hand, and the
Urabunna on the other, explain their systems of filiation.
But this theory, like that of Tylor, rests upon a begging of the
question. If he is to imagine that human souls are the souls of
animals or plants, one must believe beforehand that men take
either from the animal or vegetable world whatever is most
essential in them. Now this belief is one of those at the foundation
of totemism. To state it as something evident is therefore
to take for granted that which is to be explained.
Moreover, from this point of view, the religious character of
the totem is entirely inexplicable, for the vague belief in an
obscure kinship between the man and the animal is not enough
to found a cult. This confusion of distinct kingdoms could never
result in dividing the world into sacred and profane. It is true
that, being consistent with himself, Frazer refuses to admit that
totemism is a religion, under the pretext that he finds in it neither
spiritual beings, nor prayers, nor invocations, nor offerings, etc.
According to him, it is only a system of magic, by which he means
a sort of crude and erroneous science, a first effort to discover the
laws of things.[596] But we know how inexact this conception,
both of magic and of religion, is. We have a religion as soon
as the sacred is distinguished from the profane, and we have
seen that totemism is a vast system of sacred things. If we are
to explain it, we must therefore show how it happened that these
things were stamped with this character.[597] But he does not
even raise this problem.
But this system is completely overthrown by the fact that
the postulate upon which it rests can no longer be sustained.
The whole argument of Frazer supposes that the local totemism
of the Arunta is the most primitive we know, and especially
that it is clearly prior to hereditary totemism, either in the
paternal or the maternal line. Now as soon as the facts contained
in the first volume of Spencer and Gillen were at our disposal,
we were able to conjecture that there had been a time in the
history of the Arunta people when the totems, instead of being
attached to localities, were transmitted hereditarily from mother
to child.[598] This conjecture is definitely proved by the new
facts discovered by Strehlow,[599] which only confirm the previous
observations of Schulze.[600] In fact, both of these authors tell us
that even now, in addition to his local totem, each Arunta has
another which is completely independent of all geographical
conditions, and which belongs to him as a birthright: it is his
mother's. This second totem, just like the first, is considered
a powerful friend and protector by the natives, which looks
after their food, warns them of possible dangers, etc. They
have the right of taking part in its cult. When they are buried,
the corpse is laid so that the face is turned towards the region
of the maternal totemic centre. So after a fashion this centre
is also that of the deceased. In fact it is given the name tmara
altjira, which is translated: camp of the totem which is associated
with me. So it is certain that among the Arunta, hereditary
totemism in the uterine line is not later than local totemism,
but, on the contrary, must have preceded it. For to-day, the
maternal totem has only an accessory and supplementary rôle;
it is a second totem, which explains how it was able to escape
observation as attentive and careful as that of Spencer and
Gillen. But in order that it should be able to retain this secondary
place, being employed along with the local totem, there must
have been a time when it held the primary place in the religious
life. It is, in part, a fallen totem, but one recalling an epoch when
the totemic organization of the Arunta was very different from
what it is to-day. So the whole superstructure of Frazer's system
is undermined at its foundation.[601]
Although Andrew Lang has actively contested this theory
of Frazer's, the one he proposes himself in his later works,[602]
resembles it on more than one point. Like Frazer, he makes
totemism consist in the belief in a sort of consubstantiality of
the man and the animal. But he explains it differently.
He derives it entirely from the fact that the totem is a name.
As soon as human groups were founded,[603] each one felt the need
of distinguishing between the neighbouring groups with which it
came into contact and, with this end in view, it gave them different
names. The names were preferably chosen from the surrounding
flora and fauna because animals and plants can easily be designated
by movements or represented by drawings.[604] The more
or less precise resemblances which men may have with such and
such objects determined the way in which these collective
denominations were distributed among the groups.[605]
Now, it is a well-known fact that "to the early mind names,
and the things known by names, are in a mystic and transcendental
connection of rapport."[606] For example, the name of an individual
is not considered as a simple word or conventional sign, but as
an essential part of the individual himself. So if it were the
name of an animal, the man would have to believe that he
himself had the most characteristic attributes of this same animal.
This theory would become better and better accredited as the
historic origins of these denominations became more remote
and were effaced from the memory. Myths arose to make this
strange ambiguity of human nature more easily representable
in the mind. To explain this, they imagined that the animal
was the ancestor of the men, or else that the two were descended
from a common ancestor. Thus came the conception of bonds
of kinship uniting each clan to the animal species whose name
it bore. With the origins of this fabulous kinship once explained,
it seems to our author that totemism no longer contains a
mystery.
But whence comes the religious character of the totemic
beliefs and practices? For the fact that a man considers himself
an animal of a certain species does not explain why he attributes
marvellous powers to this species, and especially why he renders
a cult to the images symbolizing it.—To this question Lang gives
the same response as Frazer: he denies that totemism is a religion.
"I find in Australia," he says, "no example of religious practices
such as praying to, nourishing or burying the totem."[607] It was
only at a later epoch, when it was already established, that
totemism was drawn into and surrounded by a system of conceptions
properly called religious. According to a remark of
Howitt,[608] when the natives undertake the explanation of the
totemic institutions, they do not attribute them to the totems
themselves nor to a man, but to some supernatural being such
as Bunjil or Baiame. "Accepting this evidence," says Lang,
"one source of the 'religious' character of totemism is at once
revealed. The totemist obeys the decree of Bunjil, or Baiame, as
the Cretans obeyed the divine decrees given by Zeus to Minos."
Now according to Lang the idea of these great divinities arose
outside of the totemic system; so this is not a religion in itself;
it has merely been given a religious colouring by contact with a
genuine religion.
But these very myths contradict Lang's conception of totemism.
If the Australians had regarded totemism as something human
and profane, it would never have occurred to them to make a
divine institution out of it. If, on the other hand, they have
felt the need of connecting it with a divinity, it is because they
have seen a sacred character in it. So these mythological interpretations
prove the religious nature of totemism, but do not
explain it.
Moreover, Lang himself recognizes that this solution is not
sufficient. He realizes that totemic things are treated with a
religious respect;[609] that especially the blood of an animal, as
well as that of a man, is the object of numerous interdictions, or,
as he says, taboos which this comparatively late mythology
cannot explain.[610] Then where do they come from? Here are
the words with which Lang answers this question: "As soon as
the animal-named groups evolved the universally diffused
beliefs about the wakan or mana, or mystically sacred quality
of the blood as the life, they would also develop the various
taboos."[611] The words wakan and mana, as we shall see in the
following chapter, involve the very idea of sacredness itself; the
one is taken from the language of the Sioux, the other from that
of the Melanesian peoples. To explain the sacred character of
totemic things by postulating this characteristic, is to answer the
question by the question. What we must find out is whence this
idea of wakan comes and how it comes to be applied to the totem
and all that is derived from it. As long as these two questions
remain unanswered, nothing is explained.
We have now passed in review all the principal explanations
which have been given for totemic beliefs,[612] leaving to each of
them its own individuality. But now that this examination is
finished, we may state one criticism which addresses itself to all
these systems alike.
If we stick to the letter of the formulæ, it seems that these
may be arranged in two groups. Some (Frazer, Lang) deny the
religious character of totemism; in reality, that amounts to
denying the facts. Others recognize this, but think that they
can explain it by deriving it from an anterior religion out of
which totemism developed. But as a matter of fact, this distinction
is only apparent: the first group is contained within the
second. Neither Frazer nor Lang have been able to maintain
their principle systematically and explain totemism as if it were
not a religion. By the very force of facts, they have been compelled
to slip ideas of a religious nature into their explanations.
We have just seen how Lang calls in the idea of sacredness, which
is the cardinal idea of all religion. Frazer, on his side, in each of
the theories which he has successively proposed, appeals openly
to the idea of souls or spirits; for according to him, totemism
came from the fact that men thought they could deposit their
souls in safety in some external object, or else that they attributed
conception to a sort of spiritual fecundation of which a spirit
was the agent. Now a soul, and still more, a spirit, are sacred
things and the object of rites; so the ideas expressing them are
essentially religious and it is therefore in vain that Frazer makes
totemism a mere system of magic, for he succeeds in explaining
it only in the terms of another religion.
We have already pointed out the insufficiencies of animism
and naturism; so one may not have recourse to them, as Tylor
and Jevons do, without exposing himself to these same objections.
Yet neither Frazer nor Lang seems to dream of the possibility
of another hypothesis.[613] On the other hand, we know that totemism
is tightly bound up with the most primitive social system which
we know, and in all probability, of which we can conceive. To
suppose that it has developed out of another religion, differing
from it only in degree, is to leave the data of observation and
enter into the domain of arbitrary and unverifiable conjectures.
If we wish to remain in harmony with the results we have already
obtained, it is necessary that while affirming the religious nature
of totemism, we abstain from deriving it from another different
religion. There can be no hope of assigning it non-religious ideas
as its cause. But among the representations entering into the
conditions from which it results, there may be some which directly
suggest a religious nature of themselves. These are the ones we
must look for.
Since individual totemism is later than the totemism of the
clan, and even seems to be derived from it, it is to this
latter form that we must turn first of all. But as the analysis
which we have just made of it has resolved it into a multiplicity
of beliefs which may appear quite heterogeneous, before going
farther, we must seek to learn what makes its unity.
We have seen that totemism places the figured representations
of the totem in the first rank of the things it considers sacred;
next come the animals or vegetables whose name the clan bears,
and finally the members of the clan. Since all these things are
sacred in the same way, though to different degrees, their religious
character can be due to none of the special attributes
distinguishing them from each other. If a certain species of
animal or vegetable is the object of a reverential fear, this is not
because of its special properties, for the human members of the
clan enjoy this same privilege, though to a slightly inferior
degree, while the mere image of this same plant or animal inspires
an even more pronounced respect. The similar sentiments
inspired by these different sorts of things in the mind of the
believer, which give them their sacred character, can evidently
come only from some common principle partaken of alike by the
totemic emblems, the men of the clan and the individuals of the
species serving as totem. In reality, it is to this common principle
that the cult is addressed. In other words totemism is the religion,
not of such and such animals or men or images, but of an anonymous
and impersonal force, found in each of these beings but
not to be confounded with any of them. No one possesses it
entirely and all participate in it. It is so completely independent
of the particular subjects in whom it incarnates itself, that it
precedes them and survives them. Individuals die, generations
pass and are replaced by others; but this force always remains
actual, living and the same. It animates the generations of to-day
as it animated those of yesterday and as it will animate
those of to-morrow. Taking the words in a large sense, we may
say that it is the god adored by each totemic cult. Yet it is an
impersonal god, without name or history, immanent in the world
and diffused in an innumerable multitude of things.
But even now we have only an imperfect idea of the real
ubiquity of this quasi-divine entity. It is not merely found in
the whole totemic species, the whole clan and all the objects
symbolizing the totem: the circle of its action extends beyond
that. In fact, we have seen that in addition to the eminently
holy things, all those attributed to the clan as dependencies of
the principal totem have this same character to a certain degree.
They also have something religious about them, for some are
protected by interdictions, while others have determined functions
in the ceremonies of the cult. Their religiousness does not differ
in kind from that of the totem under which they are classified;
it must therefore be derived from the same source. So it is
because the totemic god—to use again the metaphorical expression
which we have just employed—is in them, just as it is in the
species serving as totem and in the men of the clan. We may
see how much it differs from the beings in which it resides from
the fact that it is the soul of so many different beings.
But the Australian does not represent this impersonal force
in an abstract form. Under the influence of causes which we
must seek, he has been led to conceive it under the form of an
animal or vegetable species, or, in a word, of a visible object
This is what the totem really consists in: it is only the material
form under which the imagination represents this immaterial
substance, this energy diffused through all sorts of heterogeneous
things, which alone is the real object of the cult. We are now
in a better condition for understanding what the native means
when he says that the men of the Crow phratry, for example, are
crows. He does not exactly mean to say that they are crows in
the vulgar and empiric sense of the term, but that the same
principle is found in all of them, which is their most essential
characteristic, which they have in common with the animals of
the same name and which is thought of under the external form of
a crow. Thus the universe, as totemism conceives it, is filled and
animated by a certain number of forces which the imagination
represents in forms taken, with only a few exceptions, from the
animal or vegetable kingdoms: there are as many of them as there
are clans in the tribe, and each of them is also found in certain
categories of things, of which it is the essence and vital principle.
When we say that these principles are forces, we do not take
the word in a metaphorical sense; they act just like veritable
forces. In one sense, they are even material forces which mechanically
engender physical effects. Does an individual come in contact
with them without having taken proper precautions? He
receives a shock which might be compared to the effect of an
electric discharge. Sometimes they seem to conceive of these
as a sort of fluid escaping by points.[614] If they are introduced
into an organism not made to receive them, they produce sickness
and death by a wholly automatic action.[615] Outside of men,
they play the rôle of vital principle; it is by acting on them,
we shall see,[616] that the reproduction of the species is assured. It
is upon them that the universal life reposes.
But in addition to this physical aspect, they also have a moral
character. When someone asks a native why he observes his
rites, he replies that his ancestors always have observed them,
and he ought to follow their example.[617] So if he acts in a certain
way towards the totemic beings, it is not only because the forces
resident in them are physically redoubtable, but because he feels
himself morally obliged to act thus; he has the feeling that he
is obeying an imperative, that he is fulfilling a duty. For these
sacred beings, he has not merely fear, but also respect. Moreover,
the totem is the source of the moral life of the clan. All the
beings partaking of the same totemic principle consider that
owing to this very fact, they are morally bound to one another;
they have definite duties of assistance, vendetta, etc., towards
each other; and it is these duties which constitute kinship.
So while the totemic principle is a totemic force, it is also a moral
power; so we shall see how it easily transforms itself into a
divinity properly so-called.
Moreover, there is nothing here which is special to totemism.
Even in the most advanced religions, there is scarcely a god who
has not kept something of this ambiguity and whose functions
are not at once cosmic and moral. At the same time that it is
a spiritual discipline, every religion is also a means enabling
men to face the world with greater confidence. Even for the
Christian, is not God the Father the guardian of the physical
order as well as the legislator and the judge of human conduct?
Perhaps someone will ask whether, in interpreting totemism
thus, we do not endow the native with ideas surpassing the
limits of his intellect. Of course we are not prepared to affirm
that he represents these forces with the relative clarity which we
have been able to give to them in our analysis. We are able
to show quite clearly that this notion is implied by the whole
system of beliefs which it dominates; but we are unable to say
how far it is conscious and how far, on the contrary, it is only
implicit and confusedly felt. There is no way of determining just
what degree of clarity an idea like this may have in obscure
minds. But it is well shown, in any case, that this in no way
surpasses the capacities of the primitive mind, and on the contrary,
the results at which we have just arrived are confirmed
by the fact that either in the societies closely related to these
Australian tribes, or even in these tribes themselves, we find, in
an explicit form, conceptions which differ from the preceding
only by shades and degrees.
The native religions of Samoa have certainly passed the
totemic phase. Real gods are found there, who have their own
names, and, to a certain degree, their own personal physiognomy.
Yet the traces of totemism are hardly contestable. In fact, each
god is attached to a group, either local or domestic, just as the
totem is to its clan.[618] Then, each of these gods is thought of as
immanent in a special species of animal. But this does not mean
that he resides in one subject in particular: he is immanent in
all at once; he is diffused in the species as a whole. When an
animal dies, the men of the group who venerate it weep for it
and render pious duties to it, because a god inhabits it; but the
god is not dead. He is eternal, like the species. He is not even
confused with the present generation; he has already been the
soul of the preceding one, as he will be the soul of the one which
is to follow.[619] So he has all the characteristics of the totemic
principle. He is the totemic principle, re-clothed in a slightly
personal form by the imagination. But still, we must not
exaggerate a personality which is hardly reconcilable with this
diffusion and ubiquity. If its contours were clearly defined, it
could never spread out thus and enter into such a multitude of
things.
However, it is incontestable that in this case the idea of an
impersonal religious force is beginning to change; but there
are other cases where it is affirmed in all its abstract purity and
even reaches a higher degree of generality than in Australia.
If the different totemic principles to which the various clans of
a single tribe address themselves are distinct from each other,
they are, none the less, comparable to each other at bottom;
for all play the same rôle in their respective spheres. There are
societies which have had the feeling of this unity with nature
and have consequently advanced to the idea of a unique religious
force of which all other sacred principles are only expressions and
which makes the unity of the universe. As these societies are
still thoroughly impregnated with totemism, and as they remain
entangled in a social organization identical with that of the
Australians, we may say that totemism contained this idea in
potentiality.
This can be observed in a large number of American tribes,
especially those belonging to the great Sioux family: the Omaha,
Ponka, Kansas, Osage, Assiniboin, Dakota, Iowa, Winnebago,
Mandan, Hidatsa, etc. Many of these are still organized in clans,
as the Omaha[620] and the Iowa;[621] others were so not long since,
and, says Dorsey, it is still possible to find among them "all the
foundations of the totemic system, just as in the other societies
of the Sioux."[622] Now among these peoples, above all the particular
deities to whom men render a cult, there is a pre-eminent
power to which all the others have the relation of derived forms,
and which is called wakan.[623] Owing to the preponderating place
thus assigned to this principle in the Siouan pantheon, it is sometimes
regarded as a sort of sovereign god, or a Jupiter or Jahveh,
and travellers have frequently translated wakan by "great
spirit." This is misrepresenting its real nature gravely. The
wakan is in no way a personal being; the natives do not represent
it in a determined form. According to an observer cited by
Dorsey, "they say that they have never seen the wakanda, so
they cannot pretend to personify it."[624] It is not even possible
to define it by determined attributes and characteristics. "No
word," says Riggs, "can explain the meaning of this term among
the Dakota. It embraces all mystery, all secret power, all
divinity."[625] All the beings which the Dakota reveres, "the earth,
the four winds, the sun, the moon and the stars, are manifestations
of this mysterious life and power" which enters into all.
Sometimes it is represented in the form of a wind, as a breath
having its seat in the four cardinal points and moving everything:[626]
sometimes it is a voice heard in the crashing of the
thunder;[627] the sun, moon and stars are wakan.[628] But no enumeration
could exhaust this infinitely complex idea. It is not a definite
and definable power, the power of doing this or that; it is Power
in an absolute sense, with no epithet or determination of any
sort. The various divine powers are only particular manifestations
and personifications of it; each of them is this power seen
under one of its numerous aspects.[629] It is this which made one
observer say, "He is a protean god; he is supposed to appear
to different persons in different forms."[630] Nor are the gods the
only beings animated by it: it is the principle of all that lives or
acts or moves. "All life is wakan. So also is everything which
exhibits power, whether in action, as the winds and drifting
clouds, or in passive endurance, as the boulder by the wayside."[631]
Among the Iroquois, whose social organization has an even
more pronouncedly totemic character, this, same idea is found
again; the word orenda which expresses it is the exact equivalent
of the wakan of the Sioux. "The savage man," says Hewitt,
"conceived the diverse bodies collectively constituting his environment
to possess inherently mystic potence ... (whether
they be) the rocks, the waters, the tides, the plants and the trees,
the animals and man, the wind and the storms, the clouds and
the thunders and the lightnings,"[632] etc. "This potence is held
to be the property of all things ... and by the inchoate mentation
of man is regarded as the efficient cause of all phenomena, all
the activities of his environment."[633] A sorcerer or shaman has
orenda, but as much would be said of a man succeeding in his
enterprises. At bottom, there is nothing in the world which does
not have its quota of orenda; but the quantities vary. There are
some beings, either men or things, which are favoured; there are
others which are relatively disinherited, and the universal life
consists in the struggles of these orenda of unequal intensity.
The more intense conquer the weaker. Is one man more successful
than his companions in the hunt or at war? It is because he
has more orenda. If an animal escapes from a hunter who is
pursuing it, it is because the orenda of the former was the more
powerful.
This same idea is found among the Shoshone under the name
of pokunt, among the Algonquin under the name of manitou,[634] of
nauala among the Kwakiutl,[635] of yek among the Tlinkit[636] and of
sgâna among the Haida.[637] But it is not peculiar to the Indians
of North America; it is in Melanesia that it was studied for the
first time. It is true that in certain of the islands of Melanesia,
social organization is no longer on a totemic basis; but in all,
totemism is still visible,[638] in spite of what Codrington has said
about it. Now among these peoples, we find, under the name of
mana, an idea which is the exact equivalent of the wakan of the
Sioux and the orenda of the Iroquois. The definition given by
Codrington is as follows: "There is a belief in a force altogether
distinct from physical power, which acts in all ways for good and
evil; and which it is of the greatest advantage to possess or control.
This is Mana. I think I know what our people mean by it.
... It is a power or influence, not physical and in a way supernatural;
but it shows itself in physical force, or in any kind of
power or excellence which a man possesses. This mana is not
fixed in anything, and can be conveyed in almost anything.
... All Melanesian religion consists, in fact, in getting this
mana for one's self, or getting it used for one's benefit."[639] Is this
not the same notion of an anonymous and diffused force, the
germs of which we recently found in the totemism of Australia?
Here is the same impersonality; for, as Codrington says, we must
be careful not to regard it as a sort of supreme being; any such
idea is "absolutely foreign" to Melanesian thought. Here is
the same ubiquity; the mana is located nowhere definitely and
it is everywhere. All forms of life and all the effects of the action,
either of men or of living beings or of simple minerals, are attributed
to its influence.[640]
Therefore there is no undue temerity in attributing to the
Australians an idea such as the one we have discovered in our
analysis of totemic beliefs, for we find it again, but abstracted
and generalized to a higher degree, at the basis of other religions
whose roots go back into a system like the Australian one and
which visibly bear the mark of this. The two conceptions
are obviously related; they differ only in degree, while the
mana is diffused into the whole universe, what we call the god
or, to speak more precisely, the totemic principle, is localized in
the more limited circle of the beings and things of certain species.
It is mana, but a little more specialized; yet as a matter of fact,
this specialization is quite relative.
Moreover, there is one case where this connection is made
especially apparent. Among the Omaha, there are totems of
all sorts, both individual and collective;[641] but both are only
particular forms of wakan. "The foundation of the Indian's
faith in the efficacy of the totem," says Miss Fletcher, "rested
upon his belief concerning nature and life. This conception was
complex and involved two prominent ideas: First, that all
things, animate and inanimate, were permeated by a common
life; and second, that this life could not be broken, but was
continuous."[642] Now this common principle of life is the wakan.
The totem is the means by which an individual is put into relations
with this source of energy; if the totem has any powers, it is
because it incarnates the wakan. If a man who has violated the
interdictions protecting his totem is struck by sickness or death,
it is because this mysterious force against which he has thus
set himself, that is, the wakan, reacts against him with a force
proportionate to the shock received.[643] Also, just as the totem is
wakan, so the wakan, in its turn, sometimes shows its totemic
origin by the way in which it is conceived. In fact, Say says that
among the Dakota the "wahconda" is manifested sometimes
in the form of a grey bear, sometimes of a bison, a beaver or
some other animal.[644] Undoubtedly, this formula cannot be
accepted without reserve. The wakan repels all personification
and consequently it is hardly probable that it has ever been
thought of in its abstract generality with the aid of such definite
symbols. But Say's remark is probably applicable to the
particular forms which it takes in specializing itself in the concrete
reality of life. Now if there is a possibility that there was a time
when these specializations of the wakan bore witness to such
an affinity for an animal form, that would be one more proof
of the close bonds uniting this conception to the totemic beliefs.[645]
It is possible to explain why this idea has been unable to reach
the same degree of abstraction in Australia as in the more advanced
societies. This is not merely due to the insufficient
aptitude of the Australian for abstracting and generalizing:
before all, it is the nature of the social environment which has
imposed this particularism. In fact, as long as totemism remains
at the basis of the cultural organization, the clan keeps an
autonomy in the religious society which, though not absolute,
is always very marked. Of course we can say that in one sense
each totemic group is only a chapel of the tribal Church;
but it is a chapel enjoying a large independence. The cult celebrated
there, though not a self-sufficing whole, has only external
relations with the others; they interchange without intermingling;
the totem of the clan is fully sacred only for this clan. Consequently
the groups of things attributed to each clan, which are
a part of it in the same way the men are, have the same individuality
and autonomy. Each of them is represented as irreducible
into similar groups, as separated from them by a
break of continuity, and as constituting a distinct realm. Under
these circumstances, it would occur to no one that these heterogeneous
worlds were different manifestations of one and the same
fundamental force; on the contrary, one might suppose that
each of them corresponded to an organically different mana
whose action could not extend beyond the clan and the circle
of things attributed to it. The idea of a single and universal
mana could be born only at the moment when the tribal religion
developed above that of the clans and absorbed them more or
less completely. It is along with the feeling of the tribal unity
that the feeling of the substantial unity of the world awakens.
As we shall presently show,[646] it is true that the Australian societies
are already acquainted with a cult that is common to the tribe
as a whole. But if this cult represents the highest form of the
Australian religions, it has not succeeded in touching and modifying
the principles upon which they repose: totemism is essentially
a federative religion which cannot go beyond a certain degree of
centralization without ceasing to be itself.
One characteristic fact clearly shows the fundamental reason
which has kept the idea of the mana so specialized in Australia.
The real religious forces, those thought of in the form of totems,
are not the only ones with which the Australian feels himself
obliged to reckon. There are also some over which magicians
have particular control. While the former are theoretically
considered healthful and beneficent, the second have it as their
especial function to cause sickness and death. And at the same
time that they differ so greatly in the nature of their effects,
they are contrasted also by the relations which they sustain
with the social organization. A totem is always a matter of
the clan; but on the contrary, magic is a tribal and even an
intertribal institution. Magic forces do not belong to any
special portion of the tribe in particular. All that is needed to
make use of them is the possession of efficient recipes. Likewise,
everybody is liable to feel their effects and consequently should
try to protect himself against them. These are vague forces,
specially attached to no determined social division, and even
able to spread their action beyond the tribe. Now it is a remarkable
fact that among the Arunta and Loritja, they are conceived
as simple aspects and particular forms of a unique force,
called in Arunta Arungquiltha or Arúnkulta.[647] "This is a term,"
say Spencer and Gillen, "of somewhat vague import, but always
associated at bottom with the possession of supernatural evil
power.... The name is applied indiscriminately to the evil
influence or to the object in which it is, for the time being, or
permanently, resident."[648] "By arúnkulta," says Strehlow,
"the native signifies a force which suddenly stops life and
brings death to all who come in contact with it."[649] This name
is given to the bones and pieces of wood from which evil-working
charms are derived, and also to poisonous animals and vegetables.
So it may accurately be called a harmful mana. Grey mentions
an absolutely identical notion among the tribes he observed.[650]
Thus among these different peoples, while the properly religious
forces do not succeed in avoiding a certain heterogeneity, magic
forces are thought of as being all of the same nature; the mind
represents them in their generic unity. This is because they
rise above the social organization and its divisions and subdivisions,
and move in a homogeneous and continuous space
where they meet with nothing to differentiate them. The others,
on the contrary, being localized in definite and distinct social
forms, are diversified and particularized in the image of the
environment in which they are situated.
From this we can see how thoroughly the idea of an impersonal
religious force enters into the meaning and spirit of Australian
totemism, for it disengages itself with clarity as soon as no
contrary cause opposes it. It is true that the arungquiltha is
purely a magic force. But between religious forces and magic
forces there is no difference of kind:[651] sometimes they are even
designated by the same name: in Melanesia, the magicians
and charms have mana just like the agents and rites of the regular
cult;[652] the word oranda is employed in the same way by the
Iroquois.[653] So we can legitimately infer the nature of the one
from that of the other.[654]
The results to which the above analysis has led us do not
concern the history of totemism only, but also the genesis of
religious thought in general.
Under the pretext that in early times men were dominated
by their senses and the representations of their senses, it has
frequently been held that they commenced by representing the
divine in the concrete form of definite and personal beings.
The facts do not confirm this presumption. We have just
described a systematically united scheme of religious beliefs
which we have good reason to regard as very primitive, yet we
have met with no personalities of this sort. The real totemic
cult is addressed neither to certain determined animals nor to
certain vegetables nor even to an animal or vegetable species,
but to a vague power spread through these things.[655] Even in the
most advanced religions which have developed out of totemism,
such as those which we find among the North American Indians,
this idea, instead of being effaced, becomes more conscious of
itself; it is declared with a clarity it did not have before, while
at the same time, it attains a higher generality. It is this which
dominates the entire religious system.
This is the original matter out of which have been constructed
those beings of every sort which the religions of all times have
consecrated and adored. The spirits, demons, genii and gods
of every sort are only the concrete forms taken by this energy,
or "potentiality," as Hewitt calls it,[656] in individualizing itself,
in fixing itself upon a certain determined object or point in space,
or in centring around an ideal and legendary being, though one
conceived as real by the popular imagination. A Dakota questioned
by Miss Fletcher expressed this essential consubstantiability
of all sacred things in language that is full of relief. "Every
thing as it moves, now and then, here and there, makes stops.
The bird as it flies stops in one place to make its nest, and in
another to rest in its flight. A man when he goes forth stops
when he wills. So the god has stopped. The sun, which is so
bright and beautiful, is one place where he has stopped. The
trees, the animals, are where he has stopped, and the Indian
thinks of these places and sends his prayers to reach the place
where the god has stopped and to win help and a blessing."[657]
In other words, the wakan (for this is what he was talking about)
comes and goes through the world, and sacred things are the
points upon which it alights. Here we are, for once, just as far
from naturism as from animism. If the sun, the moon and the
stars have been adored, they have not owed this honour to their
intrinsic nature or their distinctive properties, but to the fact
that they are thought to participate in this force which alone is
able to give things a sacred character, and which is also found
in a multitude of other beings, even the smallest. If the souls of
the dead have been the object of rites, it is not because they are
believed to be made out of some fluid and impalpable substance,
nor is it because they resemble the shadow cast by a body or its
reflection on a surface of water. Lightness and fluidity are not
enough to confer sanctity; they have been invested with this
dignity only in so far as they contained within them something
of this same force, the source of all religiosity.
We are now in a better condition to understand why it has
been impossible to define religion by the idea of mythical personalities,
gods or spirits; it is because this way of representing
religious things is in no way inherent in their nature. What
we find at the origin and basis of religious thought are not
determined and distinct objects and beings possessing a sacred
character of themselves; they are indefinite powers, anonymous
forces, more or less numerous in different societies, and sometimes
even reduced to a unity, and whose impersonality is strictly
comparable to that of the physical forces whose manifestations
the sciences of nature study. As for particular sacred things,
they are only individualized forms of this essential principle.
So it is not surprising that even in the religions where there are
avowed divinities, there are rites having an efficient virtue in
themselves, independently of all divine intervention. It is
because this force may be attached to words that are pronounced
or movements that are made just as well as to corporal substances;
the voice or the movements may serve as its vehicle, and it may
produce its effects through their intermediacy, without the aid of
any god or spirit. Even should it happen to concentrate itself
especially in a rite, this will become a creator of divinities from
that very fact.[658] This is why there is scarcely a divine personality
who does not retain some impersonality. Those who represent
it most clearly in a concrete and visible form, think of it, at the
same time, as an abstract power which cannot be defined except
by its own efficacy, or as a force spread out in space and which is
contained, at least in part, in each of its effects. It is the power
of producing rain or wind, crops or the light of day; Zeus is in
each of the raindrops which falls, just as Ceres is in each of the
sheaves of the harvest.[659] As a general rule, in fact, this efficacy
is so imperfectly determined that the believer is able to form
only a very vague notion of it. Moreover, it is this indecision
which has made possible these syncretisms and duplications in
the course of which gods are broken up, dismembered and confused
in every way. Perhaps there is not a single religion in
which the original mana, whether unique or multiform, has been
resolved entirely into a clearly defined number of beings who
are distinct and separate from each other; each of them always
retains a touch of impersonality, as it were, which enables it to
enter into new combinations, not as the result of a simple survival
but because it is the nature of religious forces to be unable to
individualize themselves completely.
This conception, to which we have been led by the study of
totemism alone, has the additional recommendation that many
scholars have recently adopted it quite independently of one
another, as a conclusion from very different sorts of studies.
There is a tendency towards a spontaneous agreement on this
point which should be remarked, for it is a presumption of
objectivity.
As early as 1899, we pointed out the impossibility of making
the idea of a mythical personality enter into the definition of
religious phenomena.[660] In 1900, Marrett showed the existence
of a religious phase which he called preanimistic, in which the
rites are addressed to impersonal forces like the Melanesian
mana and the wakan of the Omaha and Dakota.[661] However,
Marrett did not go so far as to maintain that always and in
every case the idea of a spirit is logically and chronologically
posterior to that of mana and is derived from it; he even seemed
disposed to admit that it has sometimes appeared independently
and consequently, that religious thought flows from a double
source.[662] On the other hand, he conceived the mana as an
inherent property of things, as an element of their appearance;
for, according to him, this is simply the character which we
attribute to everything out of the ordinary, and which inspires
a sentiment of fear or admiration.[663] This practically amounts to
a return to the naturist theory.[664]
A little later, MM. Hubert and Mauss, while attempting to
formulate a general theory of magic, established the fact that
magic as a whole reposes on the notion of mana.[665] The close
kinship of the magic rite and the religious rite being known, it
was even possible to foresee that the same theory should be
applied to religion. This was sustained by Preuss in a series of
articles in the Globus[666] that same year. Relying chiefly upon
facts taken from American civilizations, Preuss set out to prove
that the ideas of the soul and spirit were not developed until
after those of power and impersonal force, that the former are
only a transformation of the latter, and that up to a relatively
late date they retain the marks of their original impersonality.
In fact, he shows that even in the advanced religions, they are
represented in the form of vague emanations disengaging themselves
automatically from the things in which they reside, and
even tending to escape by all the ways that are open to them:
the mouth, the nose and all the other openings of the body, the
breath, the look, the word, etc. At the same time, Preuss pointed
out their Protean forms and their extreme plasticity which
permits them to give themselves successively and almost concurrently
to the most varied uses.[667] It is true that if we stick to
the letter of the terminology employed by this author, we may
believe that for him the forces have a magic, not a religious
nature: he calls them charms (Zauber, Zauberkräfte). But it is
evident that in expressing himself thus, he does not intend to
put them outside of religion; for it is in the essentially religious
rites that he shows their action, for example, in the great Mexican
ceremonies.[668] If he uses these expressions, it is undoubtedly
because he knows no others which mark better the impersonality
of these forces and the sort of mechanism with which they operate.
Thus this same idea tends to come to light on every side.[669]
The impression becomes more and more prevalent that even
the most elementary mythological constructions are secondary
products[670] which cover over a system of beliefs, at once simpler
and more obscure, vaguer and more essential, which form the
solid foundations upon which the religious systems are built.
It is this primitive foundation which our analysis of totemism
has enabled us to reach. The various writers whose studies we
have just mentioned arrived at this conclusion only through
facts taken from very diverse religions, some of which even
correspond to a civilization that is already far advanced: such
is the case, for example, with the Mexican religions, of which
Preuss makes great use. So it might be asked if this theory is
equally applicable to the most simple religions. But since it is
impossible to go lower than totemism, we are not exposed to this
risk of error, and at the same time, we have an opportunity of
finding the initial notion from which the ideas of wakan and
mana are derived: this is the notion of the totemic principle.[671]
But this notion is not only of primary importance because of
the rôle it has played in the development of religious ideas; it
also has a lay aspect in which it is of interest for the history of
scientific thought. It is the first form of the idea of force.
In fact, the wakan plays the same rôle in the world, as the
Sioux conceives it, as the one played by the forces with which
science explains the diverse phenomena of nature. This, however,
does not mean that it is thought of as an exclusively physical
energy; on the contrary, in the next chapter we shall see that
the elements going to make up this idea are taken from the most
diverse realms. But this very compositeness of its nature enables
it to be utilized as a universal principle of explanation. It is
from it that all life comes;[672] "all life is wakan"; and by this
word life, we must understand everything that acts and reacts,
that moves and is moved, in both the mineral and biological
kingdoms. The wakan is the cause of all the movements which
take place in the universe. We have even seen that the orenda
of the Iroquois is "the efficient cause of all the phenomena
and all the activities which are manifested around men." It is a
power "inherent in all bodies and all things."[673] It is the orenda
which makes the wind blow, the sun lighten and heat the earth,
or animals reproduce and which makes men strong, clever and
intelligent. When the Iroquois says that the life of all nature
is the product of the conflicts aroused between the unequally
intense orenda of the different beings, he only expresses, in his
own language, this modern idea that the world is a system
of forces limiting and containing each other and making an
equilibrium.
The Melanesian attributes this same general efficacy to his
mana. It is owing to his mana that a man succeeds in hunting
or fighting, that gardens give a good return or that flocks prosper.
If an arrow strikes its mark, it is because it is charged with mana;
it is the same cause which makes a net catch fish well, or a canoe
ride well on the sea,[674] etc. It is true that if certain phrases of
Codrington are taken literally, mana should be the cause to
which is attributed "everything which is beyond the ordinary
power of men, outside the common processes of nature."[675] But
from the very examples which he cites, it is quite evident that
the sphere of the mana is really much more extended. In reality,
it serves to explain usual and everyday phenomena; there is
nothing superhuman or supernatural in the fact that a ship
sails or a hunter catches game, etc. However, among these
events of daily life, there are some so insignificant and familiar
that they pass unperceived: they are not noticed and consequently
no need is felt of explaining them. The concept of mana
is applied only to those that are important enough to cause
reflection, and to awaken a minimum of interest and curiosity;
but they are not marvellous for all that. And what is true of
the mana as well as the orenda and wakan, may be said equally
well of the totemic principle. It is through this that the life of the
men of the clan and the animals or plants of the totemic species,
as well as all the things which are classified under the totem and
partake of its nature, is manifested.
So the idea of force is of religious origin. It is from religion
that it has been borrowed, first by philosophy, then by the
sciences. This has already been foreseen by Comte and this
is why he made metaphysics the heir of "theology." But he
concluded from this that the idea of force is destined to disappear
from science; for, owing to its mystic origins, he refused it all
objective value. But we are going to show that, on the contrary,
religious forces are real, howsoever imperfect the symbols may
be, by the aid of which they are thought of. From this it will
follow that the same is true of the concept of force in general.
The proposition established in the preceding chapter
determines the terms in which the problem of the origins
of totemism should be posed. Since totemism is everywhere
dominated by the idea of a quasi-divine principle, imminent
in certain categories of men and things and thought of under
the form of an animal or vegetable, the explanation of this
religion is essentially the explanation of this belief; to arrive at
this, we must seek to learn how men have been led to construct
this idea and out of what materials they have constructed it.
It is obviously not out of the sensations which the things
serving as totems are able to arouse in the mind; we have shown
that these things are frequently insignificant. The lizard, the
caterpillar, the rat, the ant, the frog, the turkey, the bream-fish,
the plum-tree, the cockatoo, etc., to cite only those names which
appear frequently in the lists of Australian totems, are not of a
nature to produce upon men these great and strong impressions
which in a way resemble religious emotions and which impress
a sacred character upon the objects they create. It is true that
this is not the case with the stars and the great atmospheric
phenomena, which have, on the contrary, all that is necessary
to strike the imagination forcibly; but as a matter of fact,
these serve only very exceptionally as totems. It is even probable
that they were very slow in taking this office.[676] So it is not the
intrinsic nature of the thing whose name the clan bears that
marked it out to become the object of a cult. Also, if the sentiments
which it inspired were really the determining cause of the
totemic rites and beliefs, it would be the pre-eminently sacred
thing; the animals or plants employed as totems would play
an eminent part in the religious life. But we know that the
centre of the cult is actually elsewhere. It is the figurative
representations of this plant or animal and the totemic emblems
and symbols of every sort, which have the greatest sanctity;
so it is in them that is found the source of that religious nature,
of which the real objects represented by these emblems receive
only a reflection.
Thus the totem is before all a symbol, a material expression of
something else.[677] But of what?
From the analysis to which we have been giving our attention,
it is evident that it expresses and symbolizes two different sorts
of things. In the first place, it is the outward and visible form of
what we have called the totemic principle or god. But it is also
the symbol of the determined society called the clan. It is its
flag; it is the sign by which each clan distinguishes itself from
the others, the visible mark of its personality, a mark borne by
everything which is a part of the clan under any title whatsoever,
men, beasts or things. So if it is at once the symbol of the god
and of the society, is that not because the god and the society
are only one? How could the emblem of the group have been
able to become the figure of this quasi-divinity, if the group and
the divinity were two distinct realities? The god of the clan,
the totemic principle, can therefore be nothing else than the
clan itself, personified and represented to the imagination under
the visible form of the animal or vegetable which serves as totem.
But how has this apotheosis been possible, and how did it
happen to take place in this fashion?
In a general way, it is unquestionable that a society has all
that is necessary to arouse the sensation of the divine in
minds, merely by the power that it has over them; for to its
members it is what a god is to his worshippers. In fact, a god
is, first of all, a being whom men think of as superior to themselves,
and upon whom they feel that they depend. Whether
it be a conscious personality, such as Zeus or Jahveh, or merely
abstract forces such as those in play in totemism, the worshipper,
in the one case as in the other, believes himself held to certain
manners of acting which are imposed upon him by the nature
of the sacred principle with which he feels that he is in communion.
Now society also gives us the sensation of a perpetual
dependence. Since it has a nature which is peculiar to itself
and different from our individual nature, it pursues ends which
are likewise special to it; but, as it cannot attain them except
through our intermediacy, it imperiously demands our aid. It
requires that, forgetful of our own interests, we make ourselves
its servitors, and it submits us to every sort of inconvenience,
privation and sacrifice, without which social life would be impossible.
It is because of this that at every instant we are obliged
to submit ourselves to rules of conduct and of thought which we
have neither made nor desired, and which are sometimes even
contrary to our most fundamental inclinations and instincts.
Even if society were unable to obtain these concessions and
sacrifices from us except by a material constraint, it might
awaken in us only the idea of a physical force to which we must
give way of necessity, instead of that of a moral power such as
religions adore. But as a matter of fact, the empire which it
holds over consciences is due much less to the physical supremacy
of which it has the privilege than to the moral authority with
which it is invested. If we yield to its orders, it is not merely
because it is strong enough to triumph over our resistance; it is
primarily because it is the object of a venerable respect.
We say that an object, whether individual or collective, inspires
respect when the representation expressing it in the mind is
gifted with such a force that it automatically causes or inhibits
actions, without regard for any consideration relative to their useful
or injurious effects. When we obey somebody because of the
moral authority which we recognize in him, we follow out his
opinions, not because they seem wise, but because a certain
sort of physical energy is imminent in the idea that we form of
this person, which conquers our will and inclines it in the indicated
direction. Respect is the emotion which we experience when we
feel this interior and wholly spiritual pressure operating upon
us. Then we are not determined by the advantages or inconveniences
of the attitude which is prescribed or recommended to
us; it is by the way in which we represent to ourselves the person
recommending or prescribing it. This is why commands generally
take a short, peremptory form leaving no place for hesitation; it
is because, in so far as it is a command and goes by its own force,
it excludes all idea of deliberation or calculation; it gets its
efficacy from the intensity of the mental state in which it is placed.
It is this intensity which creates what is called a moral ascendancy.
Now the ways of action to which society is strongly enough
attached to impose them upon its members, are, by that very
fact, marked with a distinctive sign provocative of respect.
Since they are elaborated in common, the vigour with which
they have been thought of by each particular mind is retained
in all the other minds, and reciprocally. The representations
which express them within each of us have an intensity which
no purely private states of consciousness could ever attain;
for they have the strength of the innumerable individual representations
which have served to form each of them. It is society
who speaks through the mouths of those who affirm them in our
presence; it is society whom we hear in hearing them; and the
voice of all has an accent which that of one alone could never
have.[678] The very violence with which society reacts, by way of
blame or material suppression, against every attempted dissidence,
contributes to strengthening its empire by manifesting the
common conviction through this burst of ardour.[679] In a word,
when something is the object of such a state of opinion, the
representation which each individual has of it gains a power
of action from its origins and the conditions in which it was born,
which even those feel who do not submit themselves to it. It
tends to repel the representations which contradict it, and it
keeps them at a distance; on the other hand, it commands those
acts which will realize it, and it does so, not by a material coercion
or by the perspective of something of this sort, but by the simple
radiation of the mental energy which it contains. It has an
efficacy coming solely from its psychical properties, and it is by
just this sign that moral authority is recognized. So opinion,
primarily a social thing, is a source of authority, and it might
even be asked whether all authority is not the daughter of
opinion.[680] It may be objected that science is often the antagonist
of opinion, whose errors it combats and rectifies. But it cannot
succeed in this task if it does not have sufficient authority, and
it can obtain this authority only from opinion itself. If a people
did not have faith in science, all the scientific demonstrations in
the world would be without any influence whatsoever over their
minds. Even to-day, if science happened to resist a very strong
current of public opinion, it would risk losing its credit there.[681]
Since it is in spiritual ways that social pressure exercises
itself, it could not fail to give men the idea that outside themselves
there exist one or several powers, both moral and, at the
same time, efficacious, upon which they depend. They must
think of these powers, at least in part, as outside themselves,
for these address them in a tone of command and sometimes
even order them to do violence to their most natural inclinations.
It is undoubtedly true that if they were able to see that these
influences which they feel emanate from society, then the mythological
system of interpretations would never be born. But
social action follows ways that are too circuitous and obscure,
and employs psychical mechanisms that are too complex to allow
the ordinary observer to see whence it comes. As long as scientific
analysis does not come to teach it to them, men know well that
they are acted upon, but they do not know by whom. So they
must invent by themselves the idea of these powers with which
they feel themselves in connection, and from that, we are able
to catch a glimpse of the way by which they were led to represent
them under forms that are really foreign to their nature and to
transfigure them by thought.
But a god is not merely an authority upon whom we depend;
it is a force upon which our strength relies. The man who has
obeyed his god and who, for this reason, believes the god is with
him, approaches the world with confidence and with the feeling
of an increased energy. Likewise, social action does not confine
itself to demanding sacrifices, privations and efforts from us. For
the collective force is not entirely outside of us; it does not act
upon us wholly from without; but rather, since society cannot
exist except in and through individual consciousnesses,[682] this
force must also penetrate us and organize itself within us; it
thus becomes an integral part of our being and by that very
fact this is elevated and magnified.
There are occasions when this strengthening and vivifying
action of society is especially apparent. In the midst of an
assembly animated by a common passion, we become susceptible
of acts and sentiments of which we are incapable when reduced
to our own forces; and when the assembly is dissolved and when,
finding ourselves alone again, we fall back to our ordinary level,
we are then able to measure the height to which we have been
raised above ourselves. History abounds in examples of this
sort. It is enough to think of the night of the Fourth of August,
1789, when an assembly was suddenly led to an act of sacrifice
and abnegation which each of its members had refused the day
before, and at which they were all surprised the day after.[683] This
is why all parties, political, economic or confessional, are careful
to have periodical reunions where their members may revivify
their common faith by manifesting it in common. To strengthen
those sentiments which, if left to themselves, would soon weaken,
it is sufficient to bring those who hold them together and to put
them into closer and more active relations with one another.
This is the explanation of the particular attitude of a man speaking
to a crowd, at least if he has succeeded in entering into communion
with it. His language has a grandiloquence that would
be ridiculous in ordinary circumstances; his gestures show a
certain domination; his very thought is impatient of all rules,
and easily falls into all sorts of excesses. It is because he feels
within him an abnormal over-supply of force which overflows
and tries to burst out from him; sometimes he even has the
feeling that he is dominated by a moral force which is greater
than he and of which he is only the interpreter. It is by this trait
that we are able to recognize what has often been called the
demon of oratorical inspiration. Now this exceptional increase
of force is something very real; it comes to him from the very
group which he addresses. The sentiments provoked by his words
come back to him, but enlarged and amplified, and to this degree
they strengthen his own sentiment. The passionate energies
he arouses re-echo within him and quicken his vital tone. It is
no longer a simple individual who speaks; it is a group incarnate
and personified.
Beside these passing and intermittent states, there are other
more durable ones, where this strengthening influence of society
makes itself felt with greater consequences and frequently even
with greater brilliancy. There are periods in history when,
under the influence of some great collective shock, social interactions
have become much more frequent and active. Men look
for each other and assemble together more than ever. That
general effervescence results which is characteristic of revolutionary
or creative epochs. Now this greater activity results
in a general stimulation of individual forces. Men see more and
differently now than in normal times. Changes are not merely
of shades and degrees; men become different. The passions
moving them are of such an intensity that they cannot be satisfied
except by violent and unrestrained actions, actions of superhuman
heroism or of bloody barbarism. This is what explains
the Crusades,[684] for example, or many of the scenes, either sublime
or savage, of the French Revolution.[685] Under the influence of
the general exaltation, we see the most mediocre and inoffensive
bourgeois become either a hero or a butcher.[686] And so clearly
are all these mental processes the ones that are also at the root
of religion that the individuals themselves have often pictured the
pressure before which they thus gave way in a distinctly religious
form. The Crusaders believed that they felt God present in the
midst of them, enjoining them to go to the conquest of the
Holy Land; Joan of Arc believed that she obeyed celestial
voices.[687]
But it is not only in exceptional circumstances that this
stimulating action of society makes itself felt; there is not, so
to speak, a moment in our lives when some current of energy
does not come to us from without. The man who has done his
duty finds, in the manifestations of every sort expressing the
sympathy, esteem or affection which his fellows have for him,
a feeling of comfort, of which he does not ordinarily take account,
but which sustains him, none the less. The sentiments which
society has for him raise the sentiments which he has for himself.
Because he is in moral harmony with his comrades, he has more
confidence, courage and boldness in action, just like the believer
who thinks that he feels the regard of his god turned graciously
towards him. It thus produces, as it were, a perpetual sustenance
for our moral nature. Since this varies with a multitude of
external circumstances, as our relations with the groups about
us are more or less active and as these groups themselves vary,
we cannot fail to feel that this moral support depends upon an
external cause; but we do not perceive where this cause is nor
what it is. So we ordinarily think of it under the form of a moral
power which, though immanent in us, represents within us
something not ourselves: this is the moral conscience, of which,
by the way, men have never made even a slightly distinct representation
except by the aid of religious symbols.
In addition to these free forces which are constantly coming
to renew our own, there are others which are fixed in the methods
and traditions which we employ. We speak a language that we
did not make; we use instruments that we did not invent; we
invoke rights that we did not found; a treasury of knowledge
is transmitted to each generation that it did not gather itself,
etc. It is to society that we owe these varied benefits of civilization,
and if we do not ordinarily see the source from which we
get them, we at least know that they are not our own work.
Now it is these things that give man his own place among things;
a man is a man only because he is civilized. So he could not
escape the feeling that outside of him there are active causes
from which he gets the characteristic attributes of his nature
and which, as benevolent powers, assist him, protect him and
assure him of a privileged fate. And of course he must attribute
to these powers a dignity corresponding to the great value of the
good things he attributes to them.[688]
Thus the environment in which we live seems to us to be
peopled with forces that are at once imperious and helpful,
august and gracious, and with which we have relations. Since
they exercise over us a pressure of which we are conscious, we
are forced to localize them outside ourselves, just as we do for
the objective causes of our sensations. But the sentiments
which they inspire in us differ in nature from those which we
have for simple visible objects. As long as these latter are reduced
to their empirical characteristics as shown in ordinary
experience, and as long as the religious imagination has not
metamorphosed them, we entertain for them no feeling which
resembles respect, and they contain within them nothing that
is able to raise us outside ourselves. Therefore, the representations
which express them appear to us to be very different from those
aroused in us by collective influences. The two form two distinct
and separate mental states in our consciousness, just as do the
two forms of life to which they correspond. Consequently, we
get the impression that we are in relations with two distinct
sorts of reality and that a sharply drawn line of demarcation
separates them from each other: on the one hand is the world
of profane things, on the other, that of sacred things.
Also, in the present day just as much as in the past, we see society
constantly creating sacred things out of ordinary ones. If it
happens to fall in love with a man and if it thinks it has found
in him the principal aspirations that move it, as well as the means
of satisfying them, this man will be raised above the others and,
as it were, deified. Opinion will invest him with a majesty
exactly analogous to that protecting the gods. This is what
has happened to so many sovereigns in whom their age had
faith: if they were not made gods, they were at least regarded
as direct representatives of the deity. And the fact that it is
society alone which is the author of these varieties of apotheosis,
is evident since it frequently chances to consecrate men thus
who have no right to it from their own merit. The simple
deference inspired by men invested with high social functions
is not different in nature from religious respect. It is expressed
by the same movements: a man keeps at a distance from a
high personage; he approaches him only with precautions;
in conversing with him, he uses other gestures and language
than those used with ordinary mortals. The sentiment felt
on these occasions is so closely related to the religious sentiment
that many peoples have confounded the two. In order to explain
the consideration accorded to princes, nobles and political
chiefs, a sacred character has been attributed to them. In
Melanesia and Polynesia, for example, it is said that an influential
man has mana, and that his influence is due to this
mana.[689] However, it is evident that his situation is due solely
to the importance attributed to him by public opinion. Thus
the moral power conferred by opinion and that with which sacred
beings are invested are at bottom of a single origin and made up
of the same elements. That is why a single word is able to
designate the two.
In addition to men, society also consecrates things, especially
ideas. If a belief is unanimously shared by a people, then, for
the reason which we pointed out above, it is forbidden to touch
it, that is to say, to deny it or to contest it. Now the prohibition
of criticism is an interdiction like the others and proves the
presence of something sacred. Even to-day, howsoever great
may be the liberty which we accord to others, a man who should
totally deny progress or ridicule the human ideal to which
modern societies are attached, would produce the effect of a
sacrilege. There is at least one principle which those the most
devoted to the free examination of everything tend to place
above discussion and to regard as untouchable, that is to say, as
sacred: this is the very principle of free examination.
This aptitude of society for setting itself up as a god or for
creating gods was never more apparent than during the first
years of the French Revolution. At this time, in fact, under
the influence of the general enthusiasm, things purely laïcal
by nature were transformed by public opinion into sacred things:
these were the Fatherland, Liberty, Reason.[690] A religion tended
to become established which had its dogmas,[691] symbols,[692] altars[693]
and feasts.[694] It was to these spontaneous aspirations that the
cult of Reason and the Supreme Being attempted to give a sort
of official satisfaction. It is true that this religious renovation
had only an ephemeral duration. But that was because the
patriotic enthusiasm which at first transported the masses soon
relaxed.[695] The cause being gone, the effect could not remain.
But this experiment, though short-lived, keeps all its sociological
interest. It remains true that in one determined case we have
seen society and its essential ideas become, directly and with no
transfiguration of any sort, the object of a veritable cult.
All these facts allow us to catch glimpses of how the clan
was able to awaken within its members the idea that outside
of them there exist forces which dominate them and at the
same time sustain them, that is to say in fine, religious forces:
it is because there is no society with which the primitive is more
directly and closely connected. The bonds uniting him to the
tribe are much more lax and more feebly felt. Although this is
not at all strange or foreign to him, it is with the people of his
own clan that he has the greatest number of things in common;
it is the action of this group that he feels the most directly; so
it is this also which, in preference to all others, should express
itself in religious symbols.
But this first explanation has been too general, for it is applicable
to every sort of society indifferently, and consequently
to every sort of religion. Let us attempt to determine exactly
what form this collective action takes in the clan and how it
arouses the sensation of sacredness there. For there is no place
where it is more easily observable or more apparent in its results.
The life of the Australian societies passes alternately through
two distinct phases.[696] Sometimes the population is broken up
into little groups who wander about independently of one another,
in their various occupations; each family lives by itself, hunting
and fishing, and in a word, trying to procure its indispensable
food by all the means in its power. Sometimes, on the contrary,
the population concentrates and gathers at determined points
for a length of time varying from several days to several months.
This concentration takes place when a clan or a part of the tribe[697]
is summoned to the gathering, and on this occasion they celebrate
a religious ceremony, or else hold what is called a corrobbori[698]
in the usual ethnological language.
These two phases are contrasted with each other in the sharpest
way. In the first, economic activity is the preponderating one,
and it is generally of a very mediocre intensity. Gathering the
grains or herbs that are necessary for food, or hunting and fishing
are not occupations to awaken very lively passions.[699] The dispersed
condition in which the society finds itself results in making
its life uniform, languishing and dull.[700] But when a corrobbori
takes place, everything changes. Since the emotional and passional
faculties of the primitive are only imperfectly placed under
the control of his reason and will, he easily loses control of
himself. Any event of some importance puts him quite outside
himself. Does he receive good news? There are at once transports
of enthusiasm. In the contrary conditions, he is to be seen
running here and there like a madman, giving himself up to all
sorts of immoderate movements, crying, shrieking, rolling in
the dust, throwing it in every direction, biting himself, brandishing
his arms in a furious manner, etc.[701] The very fact of the
concentration acts as an exceptionally powerful stimulant.
When they are once come together, a sort of electricity is formed
by their collecting which quickly transports them to an extraordinary
degree of exaltation. Every sentiment expressed finds
a place without resistance in all the minds, which are very open
to outside impressions; each re-echoes the others, and is re-echoed
by the others. The initial impulse thus proceeds, growing as it
goes, as an avalanche grows in its advance. And as such active
passions so free from all control could not fail to burst out, on
every side one sees nothing but violent gestures, cries, veritable
howls, and deafening noises of every sort, which aid in intensifying
still more the state of mind which they manifest. And since a
collective sentiment cannot express itself collectively except on
the condition of observing a certain order permitting co-operation
and movements in unison, these gestures and cries naturally
tend to become rhythmic and regular; hence come songs and
dances. But in taking a more regular form, they lose nothing
of their natural violence; a regulated tumult remains tumult.
The human voice is not sufficient for the task; it is reinforced
by means of artificial processes: boomerangs are beaten against
each other; bull-roarers are whirled. It is probable that these
instruments, the use of which is so general in the Australian
religious ceremonies, are used primarily to express in a more
adequate fashion the agitation felt. But while they express it,
they also strengthen it. This effervescence often reaches such a
point that it causes unheard-of actions. The passions released
are of such an impetuosity that they can be restrained by nothing.
They are so far removed from their ordinary conditions of life,
and they are so thoroughly conscious of it, that they feel that
they must set themselves outside of and above their ordinary
morals. The sexes unite contrarily to the rules governing sexual
relations. Men exchange wives with each other. Sometimes
even incestuous unions, which in normal times are thought
abominable and are severely punished, are now contracted
openly and with impunity.[702] If we add to all this that the ceremonies
generally take place at night in a darkness pierced here
and there by the light of fires, we can easily imagine what effect
such scenes ought to produce on the minds of those who participate.
They produce such a violent super-excitation of the
whole physical and mental life that it cannot be supported very
long: the actor taking the principal part finally falls exhausted
on the ground.[703]
To illustrate and make specific this necessarily schematic
picture, let us describe certain scenes taken from Spencer and
Gillen.
One of the most important religious ceremonies among the
Warramunga is the one concerning the snake Wollunqua. It
consists in a series of ceremonies lasting through several days.
On the fourth day comes the following scene.
According to the ceremonial used among the Warramunga,
representatives of the two phratries take part, one as officiants,
the other as preparers and assistants. Only the members of the
Uluuru phratry are qualified to celebrate the rite, but the members
of the Kingilli phratry must decorate the actors, make ready
the place and the instruments, and play the part of an audience.
In this capacity, they were charged with making a sort of mound
in advance out of wet sand, upon which a design is marked
with red down which represents the snake Wollunqua. The
real ceremony only commenced after nightfall. Towards ten or
eleven o'clock, the Uluuru and Kingilli men arrived on the ground,
sat down on the mound and commenced to sing. Everyone was
evidently very excited. A little later in the evening, the Uluuru
brought up their wives and gave them over to the Kingilli,[704]
who had intercourse with them. Then the recently initiated
young men were brought in and the whole ceremony was explained
to them in detail, and until three o'clock in the morning singing
went on without a pause. Then followed a scene of the wildest
excitement. While fires were lighted on all sides, making the
whiteness of the gum-trees stand out sharply against the surrounding
darkness, the Uluuru knelt down one behind another
beside the mound, then rising from the ground they went around
it, with a movement in unison, their two hands resting upon
their thighs, then a little farther on they knelt down again, and
so on. At the same time they swayed their bodies, now to the
right and now to the left, while uttering at each movement a
piercing cry, a veritable yell, "Yrrsh! Yrrsh! Yrrsh!" In
the meantime the Kingilli, in a state of great excitement, clanged
their boomerangs and their chief was even more agitated than
his companions. When the procession of the Uluuru had twice
gone around the mound, quitting the kneeling position, they
sat down and commenced to sing again; at moments the singing
died away, then suddenly took up again. When day commenced
to dawn, all leaped to their feet; the fires that had gone out
were relighted and the Uluuru, urged on by the Kingilli, attacked
the mound furiously with boomerangs, lances and clubs; in a
few minutes it was torn to pieces. The fires died away and profound
silence reigned again.[705]
A still more violent scene at which these same observers
assisted was in connection with the fire ceremonies among the
Warramunga.
Commencing at nightfall, all sorts of processions, dances and
songs had taken place by torchlight; the general effervescence
was constantly increasing. At a given moment, twelve assistants
each took a great lighted torch in their hands, and one of them
holding his like a bayonet, charged into a group of natives.
Blows were warded off with clubs and spears. A general mêlée
followed. The men leaped and pranced about, uttering savage
yells all the time; the burning torches continually came crashing
down on the heads and bodies of the men, scattering lighted
sparks in every direction. "The smoke, the blazing torches,
the showers of sparks falling in all directions and the masses
of dancing, yelling men," say Spencer and Gillen, "formed
altogether a genuinely wild and savage scene of which it is impossible
to convey any adequate idea in words."[706]
One can readily conceive how, when arrived at this state of
exaltation, a man does not recognize himself any longer. Feeling
himself dominated and carried away by some sort of an external
power which makes him think and act differently than in normal
times, he naturally has the impression of being himself no longer.
It seems to him that he has become a new being: the decorations
he puts on and the masks that cover his face figure materially
in this interior transformation, and to a still greater extent,
they aid in determining its nature. And as at the same time all
his companions feel themselves transformed in the same way
and express this sentiment by their cries, their gestures and their
general attitude, everything is just as though he really were
transported into a special world, entirely different from the
one where he ordinarily lives, and into an environment filled
with exceptionally intense forces that take hold of him and
metamorphose him. How could such experiences as these,
especially when they are repeated every day. for weeks, fail to
leave in him the conviction that there really exist two heterogeneous
and mutually incomparable worlds? One is that where
his daily life drags wearily along; but he cannot penetrate into
the other without at once entering into relations with extraordinary
powers that excite him to the point of frenzy. The first
is the profane world, the second, that of sacred things.
So it is in the midst of these effervescent social environments
and out of this effervescence itself that the religious idea seems
to be born. The theory that this is really its origin is confirmed
by the fact that in Australia the really religious activity is almost
entirely confined to the moments when these assemblies are
held. To be sure, there is no people among whom the great
solemnities of the cult are not more or less periodic; but in the
more advanced societies, there is not, so to speak, a day when
some prayer or offering is not addressed to the gods and some
ritual act is not performed. But in Australia, on the contrary,
apart from the celebrations of the clan and tribe, the time is
nearly all filled with lay and profane occupations. Of course
there are prohibitions that should be and are preserved even
during these periods of temporal activity; it is never permissible
to kill or eat freely of the totemic animal, at least in those parts
where the interdiction has retained its original vigour; but
almost no positive rites are then celebrated, and there are no
ceremonies of any importance. These take place only in the
midst of assembled groups. The religious life of the Australian
passes through successive phases of complete lull and of super-excitation,
and social life oscillates in the same rhythm. This
puts clearly into evidence the bond uniting them to one another,
but among the peoples called civilized, the relative continuity
of the two blurs their relations. It might even be asked whether
the violence of this contrast was not necessary to disengage the
feeling of sacredness in its first form. By concentrating itself
almost entirely in certain determined moments, the collective
life has been able to attain its greatest intensity and efficacy,
and consequently to give men a more active sentiment of the
double existence they lead and of the double nature in which
they participate.
But this explanation is still incomplete. We have shown
how the clan, by the manner in which it acts upon its members,
awakens within them the idea of external forces which dominate
them and exalt them; but we must still demand how it happens
that these forces are thought of under the form of totems, that
is to say, in the shape of an animal or plant.
It is because this animal or plant has given its name to the
clan and serves it as emblem. In fact, it is a well-known law
that the sentiments aroused in us by something spontaneously
attach themselves to the symbol which represents them. For
us, black is a sign of mourning; it also suggests sad impressions
and ideas. This transference of sentiments comes simply from
the fact that the idea of a thing and the idea of its symbol are
closely united in our minds; the result is that the emotions provoked
by the one extend contagiously to the other. But this
contagion, which takes place in every case to a certain degree,
is much more complete and more marked when the symbol is
something simple, definite and easily representable, while the
thing itself, owing to its dimensions, the number of its parts and
the complexity of their arrangement, is difficult to hold in the
mind. For we are unable to consider an abstract entity, which
we can represent only laboriously and confusedly, the source
of the strong sentiments which we feel. We cannot explain
them to ourselves except by connecting them to some concrete
object of whose reality we are vividly aware. Then if the thing
itself does not fulfil this condition, it cannot serve as the accepted
basis of the sentiments felt, even though it may be what really
aroused them. Then some sign takes its place; it is to this that
we connect the emotions it excites. It is this which is loved,
feared, respected; it is to this that we are grateful; it is for
this that we sacrifice ourselves. The soldier who dies for his flag,
dies for his country; but as a matter of fact, in his own consciousness,
it is the flag that has the first place. It sometimes
happens that this even directly determines action. Whether
one isolated standard remains in the hands of the enemy or not
does not determine the fate of the country, yet the soldier allows
himself to be killed to regain it. He loses sight of the fact that
the flag is only a sign, and that it has no value in itself, but only
brings to mind the reality that it represents; it is treated as if
it were this reality itself.
Now the totem is the flag of the clan. It is therefore natural
that the impressions aroused by the clan in individual minds—impressions
of dependence and of increased vitality—should
fix themselves to the idea of the totem rather than that of the
clan: for the clan is too complex a reality to be represented
clearly in all its complex unity by such rudimentary intelligences.
More than that, the primitive does not even see that these
impressions come to him from the group. He does not know
that the coming together of a number of men associated in the
same life results in disengaging new energies, which transform
each of them. All that he knows is that he is raised above
himself and that he sees a different life from the one he ordinarily
leads. However, he must connect these sensations to some
external object as their cause. Now what does he see about
him? On every side those things which appeal to his senses
and strike his imagination are the numerous images of the totem.
They are the waninga and the nurtunja, which are symbols of
the sacred being. They are churinga and bull-roarers, upon which
are generally carved combinations of lines having the same
significance. They are the decorations covering the different
parts of his body, which are totemic marks. How could this
image, repeated everywhere and in all sorts of forms, fail to
stand out with exceptional relief in his mind? Placed thus
in the centre of the scene, it becomes representative. The sentiments
experienced fix themselves upon it, for it is the only
concrete object upon which they can fix themselves. It continues
to bring them to mind and to evoke them even after the assembly
has dissolved, for it survives the assembly, being carved upon the
instruments of the cult, upon the sides of rocks, upon bucklers,
etc. By it, the emotions experienced are perpetually sustained
and revived. Everything happens just as if they inspired them
directly. It is still more natural to attribute them to it for,
since they are common to the group, they can be associated only
with something that is equally common to all. Now the totemic
emblem is the only thing satisfying this condition. By definition,
it is common to all. During the ceremony, it is the centre of all
regards. While generations change, it remains the same; it is
the permanent element of the social life. So it is from it that
those mysterious forces seem to emanate with which men feel
that they are related, and thus they have been led to represent
these forces under the form of the animate or inanimate being
whose name the clan bears.
When this point is once established, we are in a position to
understand all that is essential in the totemic beliefs.
Since religious force is nothing other than the collective and
anonymous force of the clan, and since this can be represented
in the mind only in the form of the totem, the totemic emblem
is like the visible body of the god. Therefore, it is from it that
those kindly or dreadful actions seem to emanate, which the
cult seeks to provoke or prevent; consequently, it is to it that
the cult is addressed. This is the explanation of why it holds
the first place in the series of sacred things.
But the clan, like every other sort of society, can live only in
and through the individual consciousnesses that compose it.
So if religious force, in so far as it is conceived as incorporated
in the totemic emblem, appears to be outside of the individuals
and to be endowed with a sort of transcendence over them,
it, like the clan of which it is the symbol, can be realized only in
and through them; in this sense, it is imminent in them and
they necessarily represent it as such. They feel it present and
active within them, for, it is this which raises them to a superior
life. This is why men have believed that they contain within
them a principle comparable to the one residing in the totem,
and consequently, why they have attributed a sacred character to
themselves, but one less marked than that of the emblem. It is
because the emblem is the pre-eminent source of the religious
life; the man participates in it only indirectly, as he is well
aware; he takes into account the fact that the force that transports
him into the world of sacred things is not inherent in him,
but comes to him from the outside.
But for still another reason, the animals or vegetables of the
totemic species should have the same character, and even to a
higher degree. If the totemic principle is nothing else than the
clan, it is the clan thought of under the material form of the
totemic emblem; now this form is also that of the concrete
beings whose name the clan bears. Owing to this resemblance,
they could not fail to evoke sentiments analogous to those aroused
by the emblem itself. Since the latter is the object of a religious
respect, they too should inspire respect of the same sort and
appear to be sacred. Having external forms so nearly identical,
it would be impossible for the native not to attribute to them
forces of the same nature. It is therefore forbidden to kill or
eat the totemic animal, since its flesh is believed to have the
positive virtues resulting from the rites; it is because it resembles
the emblem of the clan, that is to say, it is in its own image.
And since the animal naturally resembles the emblem more
than the man does, it is placed on a superior rank in the hierarchy
of sacred things. Between these two beings there is undoubtedly
a close relationship, for they both partake of the same essence:
both incarnate something of the totemic principle. However,
since the principle itself is conceived under an animal form, the
animal seems to incarnate it more fully than the man. Therefore,
if men consider it and treat it as a brother, it is at least
as an elder brother.[707]
But even if the totemic principle has its preferred seat in a
determined species of animal or vegetable, it cannot remain
localized there. A sacred character is to a high degree contagious;[708]
it therefore spreads out from the totemic being to everything that
is closely or remotely connected with it. The religious sentiments
inspired by the animal are communicated to the substances
upon which it is nourished and which serve to make or remake
its flesh and blood, to the things that resemble it, and to the
different beings with which it has constant relations. Thus,
little by little, sub-totems are attached to the totems and from
the cosmological systems expressed by the primitive classifications.
At last, the whole world is divided up among the totemic
principles of each tribe.
We are now able to explain the origin of the ambiguity of
religious forces as they appear in history, and how they are
physical as well as human, moral as well as material. They are
moral powers because they are made up entirely of the impressions
this moral being, the group, arouses in those other moral beings,
its individual members; they do not translate the manner in
which physical things affect our senses, but the way in which
the collective consciousness acts upon individual consciousnesses.
Their authority is only one form of the moral ascendancy of
society over its members. But, on the other hand, since they
are conceived of under material forms, they could not fail to be
regarded as closely related to material things.[709] Therefore they
dominate the two worlds. Their residence is in men, but at the
same time they are the vital principles of things. They animate
minds and discipline them, but it is also they who make plants
grow and animals reproduce. It is this double nature which
has enabled religion to be like the womb from which come all
the leading germs of human civilization. Since it has been made
to embrace all of reality, the physical world as well as the moral
one, the forces that move bodies as well as those that move
minds have been conceived in a religious form. That is how
the most diverse methods and practices, both those that make
possible the continuation of the moral life (law, morals, beaux-arts)
and those serving the material life (the natural, technical
and practical sciences), are either directly or indirectly derived
from religion.[710]
The first religious conceptions have often been attributed
to feelings of weakness and dependence, of fear and anguish
which seized men when they came into contact with the world.
Being the victims of nightmares of which they were themselves
the creators, they believed themselves surrounded by hostile
and redoubtable powers which their rites sought to appease.
We have now shown that the first religions were of a wholly
different origin. The famous formula Primus in orbe deos fecit
timor is in no way justified by the facts. The primitive does not
regard his gods as foreigners, enemies or thoroughly and necessarily
malevolent beings whose favours he must acquire at any
price; quite on the contrary, they are rather friends, kindred or
natural protectors for him. Are these not the names he gives to
the beings of the totemic species? The power to which the cult
is addressed is not represented as soaring high above him and
overwhelming him by its superiority; on the contrary, it is
very near to him and confers upon him very useful powers which
he could never acquire by himself. Perhaps the deity has never
been nearer to men than at this period of history, when it is
present in the things filling their immediate environment and is,
in part, imminent in himself. In fine, the sentiments at the root
of totemism are those of happy confidence rather than of terror
and compression. If we set aside the funeral rites—the sober
side of every religion—we find the totemic cult celebrated in
the midst of songs, dances and dramatic representations. As we
shall see, cruel expiations are relatively rare; even the painful
and obligatory mutilations of the initiations are not of this
character. The terrible and jealous gods appear but slowly in
the religious evolution. This is because primitive societies are
not those huge Leviathans which overwhelm a man by the
enormity of their power and place him under a severe discipline;[711]
he gives himself up to them spontaneously and without resistance.
As the social soul is then made up of only a small number of
ideas and sentiments, it easily becomes wholly incarnate in each
individual consciousness. The individual carries it all inside of
him; it is a part of him and consequently, when he gives himself
up to the impulses inspired by it, he does not feel that he is giving
way before compulsion, but that he is going where his nature calls
him.[712]
This way of understanding the origins of religious thought
escapes the objections raised against the most accredited classical
theories.
We have seen how the naturists and animists pretend to construct
the idea of sacred beings out of the sensations evoked in
us by different phenomena of the physical or biological order,
and we have shown how this enterprise is impossible and even
self-contradictory. Nothing is worth nothing. The impressions
produced in us by the physical world can, by definition, contain
nothing that surpasses this world. Out of the visible, only the
visible can be made; out of that which is heard, we cannot
make something not heard. Then to explain how the idea of
sacredness has been able to take form under these conditions,
the majority of the theorists have been obliged to admit that
men have superimposed upon reality, such as it is given by
observation, an unreal world, constructed entirely out of the
fantastic images which agitate his mind during a dream, or else
out of the frequently monstrous aberrations produced by the
mythological imagination under the bewitching but deceiving
influence of language. But it remained incomprehensible that
humanity should have remained obstinate in these errors through
the ages, for experience should have very quickly proven them
false.
But from our point of view, these difficulties disappear.
Religion ceases to be an inexplicable hallucination and takes a
foothold in reality. In fact, we can say that the believer is not
deceived when he believes in the existence of a moral power
upon which he depends and from which he receives all that
is best in himself: this power exists, it is society. When the
Australian is carried outside himself and feels a new life flowing
within him whose intensity surprises him, he is not the dupe of
an illusion; this exaltation is real and is really the effect of forces
outside of and superior to the individual. It is true that he is
wrong in thinking that this increase of vitality is the work of a
power in the form of some animal or plant. But this error is
merely in regard to the letter of the symbol by which this being
is represented to the mind and the external appearance which
the imagination has given it, and not in regard to the fact of its
existence. Behind these figures and metaphors, be they gross or
refined, there is a concrete and living reality. Thus religion
acquires a meaning and a reasonableness that the most intransigent
rationalist cannot misunderstand. Its primary object is not to
give men a representation of the physical world; for if that were
its essential task, we could not understand how it has been able
to survive, for, on this side, it is scarcely more than a fabric of
errors. Before all, it is a system of ideas with which the individuals
represent to themselves the society of which they are members,
and the obscure but intimate relations which they have with it.
This is its primary function; and though metaphorical and
symbolic, this representation is not unfaithful. Quite on the
contrary, it translates everything essential in the relations which
are to be explained: for it is an eternal truth that outside of us
there exists something greater than us, with which we enter into
communion.
That is why we can rest assured in advance that the practices
of the cult, whatever they may be, are something more than
movements without importance and gestures without efficacy.
By the mere fact that their apparent function is to strengthen
the bonds attaching the believer to his god, they at the same
time really strengthen the bonds attaching the individual to
the society of which he is a member, since the god is only a
figurative expression of the society. We are even able to understand
how the fundamental truth thus contained in religion has
been able to compensate for the secondary errors which it almost
necessarily implies, and how believers have consequently been
restrained from tearing themselves off from it, in spite of the
misunderstandings which must result from these errors. It is
undeniably true that the recipes which it recommends that men
use to act upon things are generally found to be ineffective.
But these checks can have no profound influence, for they do
not touch religion in its fundamentals.[713]
However, it may be objected that even according to this
hypothesis, religion remains the object of a certain delirium.
What other name can we give to that state when, after a collective
effervescence, men believe themselves transported into an entirely
different world from the one they have before their eyes?
It is certainly true that religious life cannot attain a certain
degree of intensity without implying a psychical exaltation not
far removed from delirium. That is why the prophets, the
founders of religions, the great saints, in a word, the men whose
religious consciousness is exceptionally sensitive, very frequently
give signs of an excessive nervousness that is even pathological:
these physiological defects predestined them to great religious
rôles. The ritual use of intoxicating liquors is to be explained
in the same way.[714] Of course this does not mean that an ardent
religious faith is necessarily the fruit of the drunkenness and
mental derangement which accompany it; but as experience
soon informed people of the similarities between the mentality
of a delirious person and that of a seer, they sought to open a
way to the second by artificially exciting the first. But if, for
this reason, it may be said that religion is not without a certain
delirium, it must be added that this delirium, if it has the causes
which we have attributed to it, is well-founded. The images out
of which it is made are not pure illusions like those the naturists
and animists put at the basis of religion; they correspond to
something in reality. Of course it is only natural that the moral
forces they express should be unable to affect the human mind
powerfully without pulling it outside itself and without plunging
it into a state that may be called ecstatic, provided that the word
be taken in its etymological sense (ἔκστασις); but it does not
follow that they are imaginary. Quite on the contrary, the mental
agitation they cause bears witness to their reality. It is merely
one more proof that a very intense social life always does a sort
of violence to the organism, as well as to the individual consciousness,
which interferes with its normal functioning. Therefore it
can last only a limited length of time.[715]
Moreover, if we give the name delirious to every state in which
the mind adds to the immediate data given by the senses and
projects its own sentiments and feelings into things, then nearly
every collective representation is in a sense delirious; religious
beliefs are only one particular case of a very general law. Our
whole social environment seems to us to be filled with forces
which really exist only in our own minds. We know what the
flag is for the soldier; in itself, it is only a piece of cloth. Human
blood is only an organic liquid, but even to-day we cannot see it
flowing without feeling a violent emotion which its physico-chemical
properties cannot explain. From the physical point of
view, a man is nothing more than a system of cells, or from the
mental point of view, than a system of representations; in
either case, he differs only in degree from animals. Yet society
conceives him, and obliges us to conceive him, as invested with
a character sui generis that isolates him, holds at a distance
all rash encroachments and, in a word, imposes respect. This
dignity which puts him into a class by himself appears to us as
one of his distinctive attributes, although we can find nothing
in the empirical nature of man which justifies it. A cancelled
postage stamp may be worth a fortune; but surely this value
is in no way implied in its natural properties. In a sense, our
representation of the external world is undoubtedly a mere
fabric of hallucinations, for the odours, tastes and colours that
we put into bodies are not really there, or at least, they are
not such as we perceive them. However, our olfactory, gustatory
and visual sensations continue to correspond to certain objective
states of the things represented; they express in their way
the properties, either of material particles or of ether waves,
which certainly have their origin in the bodies which we perceive
as fragrant, sapid or coloured. But collective representations very
frequently attribute to the things to which they are attached qualities
which do not exist under any form or to any degree. Out of the
commonest object, they can make a most powerful sacred being.
Yet the powers which are thus conferred, though purely
ideal, act as though they were real; they determine the conduct
of men with the same degree of necessity as physical forces.
The Arunta who has been rubbed with his churinga feels himself
stronger; he is stronger. If he has eaten the flesh of an animal
which, though perfectly healthy, is forbidden to him, he will
feel himself sick, and may die of it. Surely the soldier who falls
while defending his flag does not believe that he sacrifices himself
for a bit of cloth. This is all because social thought, owing to the
imperative authority that is in it, has an efficacy that individual
thought could never have; by the power which it has over our
minds, it can make us see things in whatever light it pleases;
it adds to reality or deducts from it according to the circumstances.
Thus there is one division of nature where the formula
of idealism is applicable almost to the letter: this is the social
kingdom. Here more than anywhere else, the idea is the reality.
Even in this case, of course, idealism is not true without modification.
We can never escape the duality of our nature and free
ourselves completely from physical necessities: in order to express
our own ideas to ourselves, it is necessary, as has been shown
above, that we fix them upon material things which symbolize
them. But here the part of matter is reduced to a minimum.
The object serving as support for the idea is not much in
comparison with the ideal superstructure, beneath which it
disappears, and also, it counts for nothing in the superstructure.
This is what that pseudo-delirium consists in, which we find at
the bottom of so many collective representations: it is only a
form of this essential idealism.[716] So it is not properly called a
delirium, for the ideas thus objectified are well founded, not in
the nature of the material things upon which they settle themselves,
but in the nature of society.
We are now able to understand how the totemic principle,
and in general, every religious force, comes to be outside of the
object in which it resides.[717] It is because the idea of it is in no
way made up of the impressions directly produced by this thing
upon our senses or minds. Religious force is only the sentiment
inspired by the group in its members, but projected outside of
the consciousnesses that experience them, and objectified. To
be objectified, they are fixed upon some object which thus becomes
sacred; but any object might fulfil this function. In principle,
there are none whose nature predestines them to it to the exclusion
of all others; but also there are none that are necessarily
impossible.[718] Everything depends upon the circumstances which
lead the sentiment creating religious ideas to establish itself
here or there, upon this point or upon that one. Therefore, the
sacred character assumed by an object is not implied in the
intrinsic properties of this latter: it is added to them. The world
of religious things is not one particular aspect of empirical nature;
it is superimposed upon it.
This conception of the religious, finally, allows us to explain
an important principle found at the bottom of a multitude of
myths and rites, and which may be stated thus: when a sacred
thing is subdivided, each of its parts remains equal to the thing
itself. In other words, as far as religious thought is concerned,
the part is equal to the whole; it has the same powers, the same
efficacy. The debris of a relic has the same virtue as a relic in
good condition. The smallest drop of blood contains the same
active principle as the whole thing. The soul, as we shall see,
may be broken up into nearly as many pieces as there are organs
or tissues in the organism; each of these partial souls is worth
a whole soul. This conception would be inexplicable if the
sacredness of something were due to the constituent properties
of the thing itself; for in that case, it should vary with this thing,
increasing and decreasing with it. But if the virtues it is believed
to possess are not intrinsic in it, and if they come from certain
sentiments which it brings to mind and symbolizes, though these
originate outside of it, then, since it has no need of determined
dimensions to play this rôle of reminder, it will have the same
value whether it is entire or not. Since the part makes us think
of the whole, it evokes the same sentiments as the whole. A mere
fragment of the flag represents the fatherland just as well as the
flag itself: so it is sacred in the same way and to the same degree.[719]
But if this theory of totemism has enabled us to explain
the most characteristic beliefs of this religion, it rests upon a
fact not yet explained. When the idea of the totem, the emblem
of the clan, is given, all the rest follows; but we must still investigate
how this idea has been formed. This is a double question
and may be subdivided as follows: What has led the clan to
choose an emblem? and why have these emblems been borrowed
from the animal and vegetable worlds, and particularly from the
former?
That an emblem is useful as a rallying-centre for any sort of
a group it is superfluous to point out. By expressing the social
unity in a material form, it makes this more obvious to all, and
for that very reason the use of emblematic symbols must have
spread quickly when once thought of. But more than that,
this idea should spontaneously arise out of the conditions of
common life; for the emblem is not merely a convenient process
for clarifying the sentiment society has of itself: it also serves to
create this sentiment; it is one of its constituent elements.
In fact, if left to themselves, individual consciousnesses are
closed to each other; they can communicate only by means of
signs which express their internal states. If the communication
established between them is to become a real communion, that
is to say, a fusion of all particular sentiments into one common
sentiment, the signs expressing them must themselves be fused
into one single and unique resultant. It is the appearance of
this that informs individuals that they are in harmony and makes
them conscious of their moral unity. It is by uttering the same
cry, pronouncing the same word, or performing the same gesture
in regard to some object that they become and feel themselves
to be in unison. It is true that individual representations also
cause reactions in the organism that are not without importance;
however, they can be thought of apart from these physical
reactions which accompany them or follow them, but which do
not constitute them. But it is quite another matter with collective
representations. They presuppose that minds act and react
upon one another; they are the product of these actions and
reactions which are themselves possible only through material
intermediaries. These latter do not confine themselves to revealing
the mental state with which they are associated; they aid in
creating it. Individual minds cannot come in contact and communicate
with each other except by coming out of themselves;
but they cannot do this except by movements. So it is the homogeneity
of these movements that gives the group consciousness
of itself and consequently makes it exist. When this homogeneity
is once established and these movements have once taken
a stereotyped form, they serve to symbolize the corresponding
representations. But they symbolize them only because they
have aided in forming them.
Moreover, without symbols, social sentiments could have only
a precarious existence. Though very strong as long as men are
together and influence each other reciprocally, they exist only
in the form of recollections after the assembly has ended, and
when left to themselves, these become feebler and feebler; for
since the group is now no longer present and active, individual
temperaments easily regain the upper hand. The violent passions
which may have been released in the heart of a crowd fall away
and are extinguished when this is dissolved, and men ask themselves
with astonishment how they could ever have been so
carried away from their normal character. But if the movements
by which these sentiments are expressed are connected with
something that endures, the sentiments themselves become more
durable. These other things are constantly bringing them to
mind and arousing them; it is as though the cause which excited
them in the first place continued to act. Thus these systems
of emblems, which are necessary if society is to become conscious
of itself, are no less indispensable for assuring the continuation
of this consciousness.
So we must refrain from regarding these symbols as simple
artifices, as sorts of labels attached to representations already
made, in order to make them more manageable: they are an
integral part of them. Even the fact that collective sentiments
are thus attached to things completely foreign to them is not
purely conventional: it illustrates under a conventional form
a real characteristic of social facts, that is, their transcendence
over individual minds. In fact, it is known that social phenomena
are born, not in individuals, but in the group. Whatever part we
may take in their origin, each of us receives them from without.[720]
So when we represent them to ourselves as emanating from a
material object, we do not completely misunderstand their
nature. Of course they do not come from the specific thing
to which we connect them, but nevertheless, it is true that their
origin is outside of us. If the moral force sustaining the believer
does not come from the idol he adores or the emblem he venerates,
still it is from outside of him, as he is well aware. The objectivity
of its symbol only translates its externalness.
Thus social life, in all its aspects and in every period of its
history, is made possible only by a vast symbolism. The material
emblems and figurative representations with which we are more
especially concerned in our present study, are one form of this;
but there are many others. Collective sentiments can just
as well become incarnate in persons or formulæ: some formulæ
are flags, while there are persons, either real or mythical, who
are symbols. But there is one sort of emblem which should
make an early appearance without reflection or calculation:
this is tattooing. Indeed, well-known facts demonstrate that it
is produced almost automatically in certain conditions. When
men of an inferior culture are associated in a common life, they
are frequently led, by an instinctive tendency, as it were, to
paint or cut upon the body, images that bear witness to their
common existence. According to a text of Procopius, the early
Christians printed on their skin the name of Christ or the sign
of the cross;[721] for a long time, the groups of pilgrims going to
Palestine were also tattooed on the arm or wrist with designs
representing the cross or the monogram of Christ.[722] This same
usage is also reported among the pilgrims going to certain holy
places in Italy.[723] A curious case of spontaneous tattooing is
given by Lombroso: twenty young men in an Italian college,
when on the point of separating, decorated themselves with
tattoos recording, in various ways, the years they had spent
together.[724] The same fact has frequently been observed among
the soldiers in the same barracks, the sailors in the same boat,
or the prisoners in the same jail.[725] It will be understood that
especially where methods are still rudimentary, tattooing should
be the most direct and expressive means by which the communion
of minds can be affirmed. The best way of proving to one's
self and to others that one is a member of a certain group is to
place a distinctive mark on the body. The proof that this is the
reason for the existence of the totemic image is the fact, which
we have already mentioned, that it does not seek to reproduce
the aspect of the thing it is supposed to represent. It is made
up of lines and points to which a wholly conventional significance
is attributed.[726] Its object is not to represent or bring to mind
a determined object, but to bear witness to the fact that a certain
number of individuals participate in the same moral life.
Moreover, the clan is a society which is less able than any
other to do without an emblem or symbol, for there is almost
no other so lacking in consistency. The clan cannot be defined
by its chief, for if central authority is not lacking, it is at least
uncertain and unstable.[727] Nor can it be defined by the territory
it occupies, for the population, being nomad,[728] is not closely
attached to any special locality. Also, owing to the exogamic
law, husband and wife must be of different totems; so wherever
the totem is transmitted in the maternal line—and this system
of filiation is still the most general one[729]—the children are of a
different clan from their father, though living near to him.
Therefore we find representatives of a number of different
clans in each family, and still more in each locality. The unity
of the group is visible, therefore, only in the collective name
borne by all the members, and in the equally collective emblem
reproducing the object designated by this name. A clan is
essentially a reunion of individuals who bear the same name
and rally around the same sign. Take away the name and the
sign which materializes it, and the clan is no longer representable.
Since the group is possible only on this condition, both the
institution of the emblem and the part it takes in the life of the
group are thus explained.
It remains to ask why these names and emblems were taken
almost exclusively from the animal and vegetable kingdoms,
but especially from the former.
It seems probable to us that the emblem has played a more
important part than the name. In any case, the written sign
still holds a more central place in the life of the clan to-day
than does the spoken sign. Now the basis of an emblematic
image can be found only in something susceptible of being
represented by a design. On the other hand, these things had
to be those with which the men of the clan were the most immediately
and habitually coming in contact. Animals fulfilled
this condition to a pre-eminent degree. For these nations of
hunters and fishers, the animal constituted an essential element
of the economic environment. In this connection plants had
only a secondary place for they can hold only a secondary place
as food as long as they are not cultivated. Moreover, the animal
is more closely associated with the life of men than the plant is,
if only because of the natural kinship uniting these two to each
other. On the other hand, the sun, moon and stars are too far
away, they give the effect of belonging to another world.[730] Also,
as long as the constellations were not distinguished and classified,
the starry vault did not offer a sufficient diversity of clearly
differentiated things to be able to mark all the clans and sub-clans
of a tribe; but, on the contrary, the variety of the flora,
and especially of the fauna, was almost inexhaustible. Therefore
celestial bodies, in spite of their brilliancy and the sharp impression
they make upon the senses, were unfitted for the rôle of totems,
while animals and plants seemed predestined to it.
Ah observation of Strehlow even allows us to state precisely
the way in which these emblems were probably chosen. He says
that he has noticed that the totemic centres are generally situated
near a mountain, spring or gorge where the animals serving as
totems to the group gather in abundance, and he cites a certain
number of examples of this fact.[731] Now these totemic centres
are surely the consecrated places where the meetings of the clan
are held. So it seems as though each group had taken as its
insignia the animal or plant that was the commonest in the
vicinity of the place where it had the habit of meeting.[732]
This conception of totemism will give us the explanation
of a very curious trait of human mentality which, even though
more marked formerly than to-day, has not yet disappeared and
which, in any case, has been of considerable importance in the
history of human thought. It will furnish still another occasion
for showing how logical evolution is closely connected with
religious evolution and how it, like this latter, depends upon
social conditions.[733]
If there is one truth which appears to be absolutely certain
to-day, it is that beings differing not only in their outward appearance
but also in their most essential properties, such as minerals,
plants, animals and men, cannot be considered equivalent and
interchangeable. Long usage, which scientific culture has still
more firmly embedded in our minds, has taught us to establish
barriers between the kingdoms, whose existence transformism
itself does not deny; for though this admits that life may have
arisen from non-living matter and men from animals, still, it
does not fail to recognize the fact that living beings, once formed,
are different from minerals, and men different from animals.
Within each kingdom the same barriers separate the different
classes: we cannot conceive of one mineral having the same
distinctive characteristics as another, or of one animal species
having those of another species. But these distinctions, which
seem so natural to us, are in no way primitive. In the beginning,
all the kingdoms are confounded with each other. Rocks have
a sex; they have the power of begetting; the sun, moon and
stars are men or women who feel and express human sentiments,
while men, on the contrary, are thought of as animals or
plants. This state of confusion is found at the basis of all
mythologies. Hence comes the ambiguous character of the beings
portrayed in the mythologies; they can be classified in no
definite group, for they participate at the same time in the
most opposed groups. It is also readily admitted that they
can go from one into another; and for a long time men believed
that they were able to explain the origin of things by these
transmutations.
That the anthropomorphic instinct, with which the animists
have endowed primitive men, cannot explain their mental
condition is shown by the nature of the confusions of which they
are guilty. In fact, these do not come from the fact that men
have immoderately extended the human kingdom to the point
of making all the others enter into it, but from the fact that they
confound the most disparate kingdoms. They have not conceived
the world in their own image any more than they have conceived
themselves in the world's image: they have done both at the
same time. Into the idea they have formed of things, they have
undoubtedly made human elements enter; but into the idea
they have formed of themselves, they have made enter elements
coming from things.
Yet there is nothing in experience which could suggest these
connections and confusions. As far as the observation of the
senses is able to go, everything is different and disconnected.
Nowhere do we really see beings mixing their natures and
metamorphosing themselves into each other. It is therefore
necessary that some exceptionally powerful cause should have
intervened to transfigure reality in such a way as to make it
appear under an aspect that is not really its own.
It is religion that was the agent of this transfiguration; it is
religious beliefs that have substituted for the world, as it is perceived
by the senses, another different one. This is well shown
by the case of totemism. The fundamental thing in this religion
is that the men of the clan and the different beings whose form
the totemic emblems reproduce pass as being made of the same
essence. Now when this belief was once admitted, the bridge
between the different kingdoms was already built. The man was
represented as a sort of animal or plant; the plants and animals
were thought of as the relatives of men, or rather, all these
beings, so different for the senses, were thought of as participating
in a single nature. So this remarkable aptitude for confusing
things that seem to be obviously distinct comes from the
fact that the first forces with which the human intellect has
peopled the world were elaborated by religion. Since these
were made up of elements taken from the different kingdoms,
men conceived a principle common to the most heterogeneous
things, which thus became endowed with a sole and single
essence.
But we also know that these religious conceptions are the
result of determined social causes. Since the clan cannot exist
without a name and an emblem, and since this emblem is always
before the eyes of men, it is upon this, and the objects whose
image it is, that the sentiments which society arouses in its
members are fixed. Men were thus compelled to represent
the collective force, whose action they felt, in the form of the
thing serving as flag to the group. Therefore, in the idea of this
force were mixed up the most different kingdoms; in one sense,
it was essentially human, since it was made up of human ideas
and sentiments; but at the same time, it could not fail to appear
as closely related to the animate or inanimate beings who gave
it its outward form. Moreover, the cause whose action we observe
here is not peculiar to totemism; there is no society where it
is not active. In a general way, a collective sentiment can become
conscious of itself only by being fixed upon some material
object;[734] but by this very fact, it participates in the nature
of this object, and reciprocally, the object participates in its
nature. So it was social necessity which brought about the
fusion of notions appearing distinct at first, and social life
has facilitated this fusion by the great mental effervescences it
determines.[735] This is one more proof that logical understanding
is a function of society, for it takes the forms and attitudes
that this latter presses upon it.
It is true that this logic is disconcerting for us. Yet we must
be careful not to depreciate it: howsoever crude it may appear
to us, it has been an aid of the greatest importance in the intellectual
evolution of humanity. In fact, it is through it that
the first explanation of the world has been made possible. Of
course the mental habits it implies prevented men from seeing
reality as their senses show it to them; but as they show it,
it has the grave inconvenience of allowing of no explanation.
For to explain is to attach things to each other and to establish
relations between them which make them appear to us as functions
of each other and as vibrating sympathetically according
to an internal law founded in their nature. But sensations,
which see nothing except from the outside, could never make
them disclose these relations and internal bonds; the intellect
alone can create the notion of them. When I learn that A regularly
precedes B, my knowledge is increased by a new fact;
but my intelligence is not at all satisfied with a statement which
does not show its reason. I commence to understand only if
it is possible for me to conceive B in a way that makes it appear
to me as something that is not foreign to A, and as united to A
by some relation of kinship. The great service that religions have
rendered to thought is that they have constructed a first representation
of what these relations of kinship between things
may be. In the circumstances under which it was attempted,
the enterprise could obviously attain only precarious results.
But then, does it ever attain any that are definite, and is it not
always necessary to reconsider them? And also, it is less important
to succeed than to try. The essential thing was not to
leave the mind enslaved to visible appearances, but to teach it
to dominate them and to connect what the senses separated;
for from the moment when men have an idea that there are
internal connections between things, science and philosophy
become possible. Religion opened up the way for them. But if
it has been able to play this part, it is only because it is a social
affair. In order to make a law for the impressions of the senses
and to substitute a new way of representing reality for them,
thought of a new sort had to be founded: this is collective
thought. If this alone has had this efficacy, it is because of the
fact that to create a world of ideals through which the world of
experienced realities would appear transfigured, a super-excitation
of the intellectual forces was necessary, which is possible only in
and through society.
So it is far from true that this mentality has no connection
with ours. Our logic was born of this logic. The explanations
of contemporary science are surer of being objective because
they are more methodical and because they rest on more carefully
controlled observations, but they do not differ in nature from
those which satisfy primitive thought. To-day, as formerly, to
explain is to show how one thing participates in one or several
others. It has been said that the participations of this sort
implied by the mythologies violate the principle of contradiction
and that they are by that opposed to those implied by scientific
explanations.[736] Is not the statement that a man is a kangaroo
or the sun a bird, equal to identifying the two with each other?
But our manner of thought is not different when we say of heat
that it is a movement, or of light that it is a vibration of the ether,
etc. Every time that we unite heterogeneous terms by an internal
bond, we forcibly identify contraries. Of course the terms we
unite are not those which the Australian brings together; we
choose them according to different criteria and for different
reasons; but the processes by which the mind puts them in
connection do not differ essentially.
It is true that if primitive thought had that sort of general
and systematic indifference to contradictions which has been
attributed to it,[737] it would be in open contradiction on this
point with modern thought, which is always careful to remain
consistent with itself. But we do not believe that it is possible
to characterize the mentality of inferior societies by a single
and exclusive inclination for indistinction. If the primitive
confounds things which we distinguish, he also distinguishes
things which we connect together, and he even conceives these
distinctions in the form of sharp and clear-cut oppositions. Between
two things which are classified in two different phratries,
there is not only separation, but even antagonism.[738] For this
reason, the same Australian who confounds the sun and the
white cockatoo, opposes this latter to the black cockatoo as to its
contrary. The two seem to him to belong to two separate
classes between which there is nothing in common. A still
more marked opposition is that existing between sacred things
and profane things. They repel and contradict each other with
so much force that the mind refuses to think of them at the same
time. They mutually expel each other from the consciousness.
Thus between the logic of religious thought and that of scientific
thought there is no abyss. The two are made up of the same
elements, though inequally and differently developed. The
special characteristic of the former seems to be its natural
taste for immoderate confusions as well as sharp contrasts. It
is voluntarily excessive in each direction. When it connects,
it confounds; when it distinguishes, it opposes. It knows no
shades and measures, it seeks extremes; it consequently employs
logical mechanisms with a certain awkwardness, but it ignores
none of them.
In the preceding chapters we have been studying the fundamental
principles of the totemic religion. We have seen
that no idea of soul or spirit or mythical personality is to be
found among these. Yet, even if the idea of spiritual beings is
not at the foundation of totemism or, consequently, of religious
thought in general, still, there is no religion where this notion
is not met with. So it is important to see how it is formed. To
make sure that it is the product of a secondary formation, we
must discover the way in which it is derived from the more
essential conceptions which we have just described and explained.
Among the various spiritual beings, there is one which should
receive our attention first of all because it is the prototype
after which the others have been constructed: this is the soul.
Just as there is no known society without a religion, so there
exist none, howsoever crudely organized they may be, where
we do not find a whole system of collective representations
concerning the soul, its origin and its destiny. So far as we
are able to judge from the data of ethnology, the idea of the
soul seems to have been contemporaneous with humanity
itself, and it seems to have had all of its essential characteristics
so well formulated at the very outset that the work of the more
advanced religions and philosophy has been practically confined
to refining it, while adding nothing that is really fundamental.
In fact, all the Australian societies admit that every human
body shelters an interior being, the principle of the life which
animates it: this is the soul. It sometimes happens, it is true,
that women form an exception to this general rule: there are
tribes where they are believed to have no souls.[739] If Dawson
is to be believed, it is the same with young children in the
tribes that he has observed.[740] But these are exceptional and
probably late cases;[741] the last one even seems to be suspect
and may well be due to an erroneous interpretation of the
facts.[742]
It is not easy to determine the idea which the Australian makes
of the soul, because it is so obscure and floating; but we should
not be surprised at this. If someone asked our own contemporaries,
or even those of them who believe most firmly in the
existence of the soul, how they represented it, the replies that
he would receive would not have much more coherence and
precision. This is because we are dealing with a very complex
notion, into which a multitude of badly analysed impressions
enter, whose elaboration has been carried on for centuries,
though men have had no clear consciousness of it. Yet from this
come the most essential, though frequently contradictory,
characteristics by which it is defined.
In some cases they tell us that it has the external appearance
of the body.[743] But sometimes it is also represented as having
the size of a grain of sand; its dimensions are so reduced that it
can pass through the smallest crevices or the finest tissues.[744] We
shall also see that it is represented in the appearance of animals.
This shows that its form is essentially inconsistent and undetermined;[745]
it varies from one moment to another with the
demands of circumstances or according to the exigencies of the
myth and the rite. The substance out of which it is made is no
less indefinable. It is not without matter, for it has a form,
howsoever vague this may be. And in fact, even during this
life, it has physical needs: it eats, and inversely, it may be
eaten. Sometimes it leaves the body, and in the course of its
travels it occasionally nourishes itself on foreign souls.[746] After
it has once been completely freed from the organism, it is thought
to lead a life absolutely analogous to the one it led in this world;
it eats, drinks, hunts, etc.[747] When it flutters among the branches
of trees, it causes rustlings and crackings which even profane
ears hear.[748] But at the same time, it is believed to be invisible
to the vulgar.[749] It is true that magicians or old men have the
faculty of seeing souls; but it is in virtue of special powers
which they owe either to age or to a special training that they
perceive things which escape our senses. According to Dawson,
ordinary individuals enjoy the same privilege at only one moment
of their existence: when they are on the eve of a premature
death. Therefore this quasi-miraculous vision is considered a
sinister omen. Now, invisibility is generally considered one of
the signs of spirituality. So the soul is conceived as being
immaterial to a certain degree, for it does not affect the senses
in the way bodies do: it has no bones, as the tribes of the Tully
River say.[750] In order to conciliate all these opposed characteristics,
they represent it as made of some infinitely rare and subtle
matter, like something ethereal,[751] and comparable to a shadow
or breath.[752]
It is distinct and independent of the body, for during this
life it can leave it at any moment. It does leave it during sleep,
fainting spells, etc.[753] It may even remain absent for some time
without entailing death; however, during these absences life
is weakened and even stops if the soul does not return home.[754]
But it is especially at death that this distinction and independence
manifest themselves with the greatest clarity. While the body
no longer exists and no visible traces of it remain, the soul
continues to live: it leads an autonomous existence in another
world.
But howsoever real this duality may be, it is in no way absolute.
It would show a grave misunderstanding to represent the body
as a sort of habitat in which the soul resides, but with which it
has only external relations. Quite on the contrary, it is united
to it by the closest bonds; it is separable from it only imperfectly
and with difficulty. We have already seen that it has, or at least
is able to have, its external aspect. Consequently, everything
that hurts the one hurts the other; every wound of the body
spreads to the soul.[755] It is so intimately associated with the life
of the organism that it grows with it and decays with it. This
is why a man who has attained a certain age enjoys privileges
refused to young men; it is because the religious principle
within him has acquired greater force and efficacy as he has
advanced in life. But when senility sets in, and the old man
is no longer able to take a useful part in the great religious
ceremonies in which the vital interests of the tribe are concerned,
this respect is no longer accorded to him. It is thought that
weakness of the body is communicated to the soul. Having
the same powers no longer, he no longer has a right to the same
prestige.[756]
There is not only a close union of soul and body, but there is
also a partial confusion of the two. Just as there is something
of the body in the soul, since it sometimes reproduces its form,
so there is something of the soul in the body. Certain regions
and certain products of the organism are believed to have a
special affinity with it: such is the case with the heart, the
breath, the placenta,[757] the blood,[758] the shadow,[759] the liver, the fat
of the liver, the kidneys,[760] etc. These various material substrata
are not mere habitations of the soul; they are the soul itself
seen from without. When blood flows, the soul escapes with
it. The soul is not in the breath; it is the breath. It and the
part of the body where it resides are only one. Hence comes
the conception according to which a man has a number of souls.
Being dispersed in various parts of the organism, the soul is
differentiated and broken up into fragments. Each organ has
individualized, as it were, the portion of the soul which it contains,
and which has thus become a distinct entity. The soul of
the heart could not be that of the breath or the shadow or the
placenta. While they are all related, still they are to be distinguished,
and even have different names.[761]
Moreover, even if the soul is localized especially in certain
parts of the organism, it is not absent from the others. In varying
degrees, it is diffused through the whole body, as is well shown
by the funeral rites. After the last breath has been expired and
the soul is believed to be gone, it seems as though it should profit
by the liberty thus regained, to move about at will and to return
as quickly as possible to its real home, which is elsewhere. Nevertheless,
it remains near to the corpse; the bond uniting them
has been loosened, but not broken. A whole series of special
rites are necessary to induce it to depart definitely. It is invited
to go by gestures and significant movements.[762] The way is laid
open for it, and outlets are arranged so that it can go more easily.[763]
This is because it has not left the body entirely; it was too
closely united to it to break away all at once. Hence comes
the very frequent rite of funeral anthropophagy; the flesh of
the dead is eaten because it is thought to contain a sacred principle,
which is really nothing more than the soul.[764] In order to drive it
out definitely, the flesh is melted, either by submitting it to the
heat of the sun,[765] or to that of an artificial fire.[766] The soul departs
with the liquids which result. But even the dry bones still retain
some part of it. Therefore they can be used as sacred objects
or instruments of magic;[767] or if someone wishes to give complete
liberty to the principle which they contain, he breaks these.[768]
But a moment does arrive when the final separation is accomplished;
the liberated soul takes flight. But by nature it is so
intimately associated with the body that this removal cannot take
place without a profound change in its condition. So it takes
a new name also.[769] Although keeping all the distinctive traits
of the individual whom it animated, his humours and his good
and bad qualities,[770] still it has become a new being. From that
moment a new existence commences for it.
It goes to the land of souls. This land is conceived differently
by different tribes; sometimes different conceptions are found
existing side by side in the same society. For some, it is situated
under the earth, where each totemic group has its part. This is
at the spot where the first ancestors, the founders of the clan,
entered the ground at a certain time, and where they live since
their death. In the subterranean world there is a geographical
disposition of the dead corresponding to that of the living.
There, the sun always shines and rivers flow which never run
dry. Such is the conception which Spencer and Gillen attribute
to the central tribes, Arunta,[771] Warramunga,[772] etc. It is found
again among the Wotjobaluk.[773] In other places, all the dead,
no matter what their totems may have been, are believed to live
together in the same place, which is more or less vaguely localized
as beyond the sea, in an island,[774] or on the shores of a lake.[775]
Sometimes, finally, it is into the sky, beyond the clouds, that the
souls are thought to go. "There," says Dawson, "there is a
delectable land, abounding in kangaroos and game of every sort,
where men lead a happy life. Souls meet again there and recognize
one another."[776] It is probable that certain of the features
of this picture have been taken from the paradise of the Christian
missionaries;[777] but the idea that souls, or at least some souls,
enter the skies after death appears to be quite indigenous; for
it is found again in other parts of the continent.[778]
In general, all the souls meet the same fate and lead the same
life. However, a different treatment is sometimes accorded
them based on the way they have conducted themselves upon
earth, and we can see the first outlines of these two distinct
and even opposed compartments into which the world to come
will later be divided. The souls of those who have excelled,
during life, as hunters, warriors, dancers, etc., are not confounded
with the common horde of the others; a special place is granted
to them.[779] Sometimes, this is the sky.[780] Strehlow even says that
according to one myth, the souls of the wicked are devoured by
dreadful spirits, and destroyed.[781] Nevertheless, these conceptions
always remain very vague in Australia;[782] they begin to have
a clarity and determination only in the more advanced societies,
such as those of America.[783]
Such are the beliefs relative to the soul and its destiny, in
their most primitive form, and reduced to their most essential
traits. We must now attempt to explain them. What is it that
has been able to lead men into thinking that there are two beings
in them, one of which possesses these very special characteristics
which we have just enumerated? To find the reply to this
question, let us begin by seeking the origin attributed to this
spiritual principle by the primitive himself: if it is well analysed,
his own conception will put us on the way towards the solution.
Following out the method which we have set before ourselves,
we shall study these ideas in a determined group of societies
where they have been observed with an especial precision; these
are the tribes of Central Australia. Though not narrow, the area
of our observations will be limited. But there is good reason
for believing that these same ideas are quite generally held, in
various forms, even outside of Australia. It is also to be noted
that the idea of the soul, as it is found among these central
tribes, does not differ specifically from the one found in other
tribes; it has the same essential characteristics everywhere.
As one effect always has the same cause, we may well think
that this idea, which is everywhere the same, does not result
from one cause here and another there. So the origin which
we shall be led to attribute to it as a result of our study of these
particular tribes with which we are going to deal, ought to be
equally true for the others. These tribes will give us a chance
to make an experiment, as it were, whose results, like those of
every well-made experiment, are susceptible of generalization.
The homogeneity of the Australian civilization would of itself
be enough to justify this generalization; but we shall be careful
to verify it afterwards with facts taken from other peoples, both
in Australia and America.
As the conceptions which are going to furnish us with the
basis of our demonstration have been reported in different
terms by Spencer and Gillen on the one hand and Strehlow on the
other, we must give these two versions one after the other.
We shall see that when they are well understood, they differ in
form more than in matter, and that they both have the same
sociological significance.
According to Spencer and Gillen, the souls which, in each
generation, come to animate the bodies of newly-born children,
are not special and original creations; all these tribes hold that
there is a definite stock of souls, whose number cannot be augmented
at all,[784] and which reincarnate themselves periodically.
When an individual dies, his soul quits the body in which it dwelt,
and after the mourning is accomplished, it goes to the land of the
souls; but after a certain length of time, it returns to incarnate
itself again, and these reincarnations are the cause of conception
and birth. At the beginning of things, it was these fundamental
souls which animated the first ancestors, the founders of the clan.
At an epoch, beyond which the imagination does not go and which
is considered the very beginning of time, there were certain
beings who were not derived from any others. For this reason,
the Arunta call them the Altjirangamitjina,[785] the uncreated ones,
those who exist from all eternity, and, according to Spencer
and Gillen, they give the name Alcheringa[786] to the period when
these fabulous beings are thought to have lived. Being organized
in totemic clans just as the men of to-day are, they passed their
time in travels, in the course of which they accomplished all sorts
of prodigious actions, the memory of which is preserved in the
myths. But a moment arrived when this terrestrial life came to
a close; singly or in groups, they entered into the earth. But
their souls live for ever; they are immortal. They even continue
to frequent the places where the existence of their former hosts
came to an end. Moreover, owing to the memories attached to
them, these places have a sacred character; it is here that the
oknanikilla are located, the sorts of sanctuaries where the churinga
of the clan is kept, and the centres of the different totemic cults.
When one of the souls which wander about these sanctuaries
enters into the body of a woman, the result is a conception and
later a birth.[787] So each individual is considered as a new appearance
of a determined ancestor: it is this ancestor himself, come
back in a new body and with new features. Now, what were
these ancestors?
In the first place, they were endowed with powers infinitely
superior to those possessed by men to-day, even the most respected
old men and the most celebrated magicians. They are
attributed virtues which we may speak of as miraculous: "They
could travel on, or above, or beneath the ground; by opening a
vein in the arm, each of them could flood whole tracts of country
or cause level plains to arise; in rocky ranges they could make
pools of water spring into existence, or could make deep gorges
and gaps through which to traverse the ranges, and where they
planted their sacred poles (nurtunja), there rocks or trees arose
to mark the spot."[788] It is they who gave the earth the form it
has at present. They created all sorts of beings, both men and
animals. They are nearly gods. So their souls also have a
divine character. And since the souls of men are these ancestral
souls reincarnated in the human body, these are sacred beings too.
In the second place, these ancestors were not men in the proper
sense of the word, but animals or vegetables, or perhaps mixed
beings in which the animal or vegetable element predominated:
"In the Alcheringa," say Spencer and Gillen, "lived ancestors
who, in the native mind, are so intimately associated with the
animals or plants the name of which they bear that an Alcheringa
man of, say, the kangaroo totem may sometimes be spoken of
either as a man-kangaroo or a kangaroo-man. The identity of
the human individual is often sunk in that of the animal or plant
from which he is supposed to have originated."[789] Their immortal
souls necessarily have the same nature; in them, also, the
human element is wedded to the animal element, with a certain
tendency for the latter to predominate over the former. So they
are made of the same substance as the totemic principle, for
we know that the special characteristic of this is to present this
double nature, and to synthesize and confound the two realms
in itself.
Since no other souls than these exist, we reach the conclusion
that, in a general way, the soul is nothing other than the totemic
principle incarnate in each individual. And there is nothing to
surprise us in this derivation. We already know that this
principle is immanent in each of the members of the clan. But in
penetrating into these individuals, it must inevitably individualize
itself. Because the consciousnesses, of which it becomes thus an
integral part, differ from each other, it differentiates itself according
to their image; since each has its own physiognomy, it takes
a distinct physiognomy in each. Of course it remains something
outside of and foreign to the man, but the portion of it which
each is believed to possess cannot fail to contract close affinities
with the particular subject in which it resides; it becomes his
to a certain extent. Thus it has two contradictory characteristics,
but whose coexistence is one of the distinctive features of
the notion of the soul. To-day, as formerly, the soul is what is
best and most profound in ourselves, and the pre-eminent part of
our being; yet it is also a passing guest which comes from the
outside, which leads in us an existence distinct from that of the
body, and which should one day regain its entire independence.
In a word, just as society exists only in and through individuals,
the totemic principle exists only in and through the individual
consciousnesses whose association forms the clan. If they did
not feel it in them it would not exist; it is they who put it into
things. So it must of necessity be divided and distributed among
them. Each of these fragments is a soul.
A myth which is found in a rather large number of the societies
of the centre, and which, moreover, is only a particular form of
the preceding ones, shows even better that this is really the
matter out of which the idea of the soul is made. In these tribes,
tradition puts the origin of each clan, not in a number of ancestors,
but in only two,[790] or even in one.[791] This unique being, as long as
he remained single, contained the totemic principle within him
integrally, for at this moment there was nothing to which this
principle could be communicated. Now, according to this same
tradition, all the human souls which exist, both those which
now animate the bodies of men and those which are at present
unemployed, being held in reserve for the future, have issued
from this unique personage; they are made of his substance.
While travelling over the surface of the ground, or moving about,
or shaking himself, he made them leave his body and planted
them in the various places he is believed to have passed over.
Is this not merely a symbolic way of saying that they are parts
of the totemic divinity?
But this conclusion presupposes that the tribes of which we
have just been speaking admit the doctrine of reincarnation.
Now according to Strehlow, this doctrine is unknown to the
Arunta, the society which Spencer and Gillen have studied the
longest and the best. If, in this particular case, these two
observers have misunderstood things to such an extent, their
whole testimony would become suspect. So it is important to
determine the actual extent of this divergence.
According to Strehlow, after the soul has once been definitely
freed from the body by the rites of mourning, it never reincarnates
itself again. It goes off to the isles of the dead, where it
passes its days in sleeping and its nights in dancing, until it
returns again to earth. Then it comes back into the midst of
the living and plays the rôle of protecting genius to the young
sons, or if such are lacking, to the grandsons whom the dead
man left behind him; it enters their body and aids their growth.
It remains thus in the midst of its former family for a year or
two, after which it goes back to the land of the souls. But after
a certain length of time it goes away once more to make another
sojourn upon earth, which is to be the last. A time will come
when it must take up again, and with no hope of return this time,
the route to the isles of the dead; then, after various incidents,
the details of which it is useless to relate, a storm will overtake it,
in the course of which it will be struck by a flash of lightning.
Thus its career is definitely terminated.[792]
So it cannot reincarnate itself; nor can conceptions and births
be due to the reincarnation of souls which periodically commence
new existences in new bodies. It is true that Strehlow, as Spencer
and Gillen, declares that for the Arunta commerce of the sexes
is in no way the determining condition of generation,[793] which is
considered the result of mystic operations, but different from the
ones which the other observers told us about. It takes place in
one or the other of the two following ways:
Wherever an ancestor of the Alcheringa[794] times is believed to
have entered into the ground, there is either a stone or a tree
representing his body. The tree or rock which has this mystic
relation with the departed hero is called nanja according to
Spencer and Gillen,[795] or ngarra according to Strehlow.[796] Sometimes
it is a water-hole which is believed to have been formed in
this way. Now, on each of these trees or rocks and in each of
these water-holes, there live embryo children, called ratapa,[797]
which belong to exactly the same totem as the corresponding
ancestor. For example, on a gum-tree representing an ancestor
of the kangaroo totem there are ratapa, all of which have the
kangaroo as their totem. If a woman happens to pass it, and
she is of the matrimonial class to which the mothers of these
ratapa should belong,[798] one of them may enter her through the
hip. The woman learns of this act by the characteristic pains
which are the first symptoms of pregnancy. The child thus
conceived will of course belong to the same totem as the ancestor
upon whose mystical body he resided before becoming incarnate.[799]
In other cases, the process employed is slightly different: the
ancestor himself acts in person. At a given moment he leaves
his subterranean retreat and throws on to the passing woman a
little churinga of a special form, called namatuna.[800] The churinga
enters the body of the woman and takes a human form there,
while the ancestor disappears again into the earth.[801]
These two ways of conception are believed to be equally
frequent. The features of the child will reveal the manner in
which he was conceived; according to whether his face is broad
or long, they say that he is the incarnation of a ratapa or a
namatuna. Beside these two means of fecundation, Strehlow
places a third, which, however, is much more rare. After his
namatuna has penetrated into the body of the woman, the ancestor
himself enters her and voluntarily submits to a new birth.
So in this case, the conception is due to a real reincarnation of
the ancestor. But this is very exceptional, and when a man who
has been conceived thus dies, the ancestral soul which animated
him goes away, just like ordinary souls, to the isles of the dead
where, after the usual delays, it is definitely annihilated. So it
cannot undergo any further reincarnations.[802]
Such is the version of Strehlow.[803] In the opinion of this author
it is radically opposed to that of Spencer and Gillen. But in
reality it differs only in the letter of the formulæ and symbols,
while in both cases we find the same mythical theme in slightly
different forms.
In the first place, all the observers agree that every conception
is the result of an incarnation. Only according to Strehlow, that
which is incarnated is not a soul but a ratapa or a namatuna.
But what is a ratapa? Strehlow says that it is a complete
embryo, made up of a soul and a body. But the soul is always
represented in material forms; it sleeps, dances, hunts, eats, etc.
So it, too, has a corporal element. Inversely, the ratapa is invisible
to ordinary men; no one sees it as it enters the body of
the woman;[804] this is equivalent to saying that it is made of a
matter quite similar to that of the soul. So it hardly seems possible
to differentiate the two clearly in this regard. In reality,
these are mythical beings which are obviously conceived after
the same model. Schulze calls them the souls of children.[805]
Moreover, the ratapa, just like the soul, sustains the closest
relations with the ancestor of which the sacred tree or rock is the
materialized form. It is of the same totem as this ancestor, of
the same phratry and of the same matrimonial class.[806] Its place
in the social organization of the tribe is the very one that its
ancestor is believed to have held before it. It bears the same
name,[807] which is a proof that these two personalities are at least
very closely related to one another.
But there is more than this; this relationship even goes as
far as a complete identification. In fact, it is on the mystic body
of the ancestor that the ratapa is formed; it comes from this;
it is like a detached portion of it. So it really is a part of the
ancestor which penetrates into the womb of the mother and
which becomes the child. Thus we get back to the conception
of Spencer and Gillen: birth is due to the reincarnation of an
ancestral personage. Of course it is not the entire person that
is reincarnated, it is only an emanation from him. But this
difference has only a secondary interest, for when a sacred being
divides and duplicates itself, all of its essential characteristics
are to be found again in each of the fragments into which it is
broken up. So really the Alcheringa ancestor is entire in each
part of himself which becomes a ratapa.[808]
The second mode of conception distinguished by Strehlow has
the same significance. In fact, the churinga, and more especially
the particular churinga that is called the namatuna, is considered
a transformation of the ancestor; according to Strehlow,[809] it is
his body, just as the nanja tree is. In other words, the personality
of the ancestor, his churinga and his nanja tree, are sacred
things, inspiring the same sentiments and to which the same
religious value is attributed. So they transmute themselves into
one another: in the spot where an ancestor lost his churinga, a
sacred tree or rock has come out of the soil, just the same as in
those places where he entered the ground himself.[810] So there is
a mythological equivalence of a person of the Alcheringa and his
churinga; consequently, when the former throws a namatuna
into the body of a woman, it is as if he entered into it himself.
In fact, we have seen that sometimes he does enter in person
after the namatuna; according to other stories he precedes it;
it might be said that he opens up the way for it.[811] The fact that
these two themes exist side by side in the same myth completes
the proof that one is only a doublet of the other.
Moreover, in whatever way the conception may have taken
place, there can be no doubt that each individual is united to
some determined ancestor of the Alcheringa by especially close
bonds. In the first place, each man has his appointed ancestor;
two persons cannot have the same one simultaneously. In other
words, a being of the Alcheringa never has more than one representative
among the living.[812] More than that, the one is only an
aspect of the other. In fact, as we already know, the churinga left
by the ancestor expresses his personality; if we adopt the interpretation
of Strehlow, which, perhaps, is the more satisfactory,
we shall say that it is his body. But this same churinga is related
in the same way to the individual who is believed to have been
conceived under the influence of this ancestor, and who is the
fruit of his mystic works. When the young initiate is introduced
into the sanctuary of the clan, he is shown the churinga of his
ancestor, and someone says to him, "You are this body; you
are the same thing as this."[813] So, in Strehlow's own expression,
the churinga is "the body common to the individual and his
ancestor."[814] Now if they are to have the same body it is necessary
that on one side at least their two personalities be confounded.
Strehlow recognizes this explicitly, moreover, when
he says, "By the tjurunga (churinga) the individual is united to
his personal ancestor."[815]
So for Strehlow as well as for Spencer and Gillen, there is a
mystic, religious principle in each new-born child, which emanates
from an ancestor of the Alcheringa. It is this principle which
forms the essence of each individual, therefore it is his soul, or in
any case the soul is made of the same matter and the same substance.
Now it is only upon this one fundamental fact that we
have relied in determining the nature and origin of the idea of
the soul. The different metaphors by means of which it may
have been expressed have only a secondary interest for us.[816]
Far from contradicting the data upon which our theory rests,
the recent observations of Strehlow bring new proofs confirming
it. Our reasoning consisted in inferring the totemic nature of
the human soul from the totemic nature of the ancestral
soul, of which the former is an emanation and a sort of replica.
Now, some of the new facts which we owe to Strehlow show
this character of both even more categorically than those we
had at our disposal before do. In the first place, Strehlow, like
Spencer and Gillen, insists on "the intimate relations uniting
each ancestor to an animal, to a plant, or to some other natural
object." Some of these Altjirangamitjina (these are Spencer
and Gillen's men of the Alcheringa) "should," he says, "be
manifested directly as animals; others take the animal form in
a way."[817] Even now they are constantly transforming themselves
into animals.[818] In any case, whatever external aspect they may
have, "the special and distinctive qualities of the animal clearly
appear in each of them." For example, the ancestors of the
Kangaroo clan eat grass just like real kangaroos, and flee before
the hunter; those of the Emu clan run and feed like emus,[819] etc.
More than that, those ancestors who had a vegetable as totem
become this vegetable itself on death.[820] Moreover, this close
kinship of the ancestor and the totemic being is so keenly felt
by the natives that it is shown even in their terminology. Among
the Arunta, the child calls the totem of his mother, which serves
him as a secondary totem,[821] altjira. As filiation was at first in the
uterine line, there was once a time when each individual had no
other totem than that of his mother; so it is very probable that
the term altjira then designated the real totem. Now this clearly
enters into the composition of the word which means great
ancestor, altjirangamitjina.[822]
The idea of the totem and that of the ancestor are even so
closely kindred that they sometimes seem to be confounded.
Thus, after speaking of the totem of the mother, or altjira,
Strehlow goes on to say, "This altjira appears to the natives in
dreams and gives them warnings, just as it takes information
concerning them to their sleeping friends."[823] This altjira, which
speaks and which is attached to each individual personally, is
evidently an ancestor; yet it is also an incarnation of the totem.
A certain text in Roth, which speaks of invocations addressed to
the totem, should certainly be interpreted in this sense.[824] So it
appears that the totem is sometimes represented in the mind in
the form of a group of ideal beings or mythical personages who
are more or less indistinct from the ancestors. In a word, the
ancestors are the fragments of the totem.[825]
But if the ancestor is so readily confused with the totemic
being, the individual soul, which is so near the ancestral soul,
cannot do otherwise. Moreover, this is what actually results
from the close union of each man with his churinga. In fact, we
know that the churinga represents the personality of the individual
who is believed to have been born of it;[826] but it also
expresses the totemic animal. When the civilizing hero, Mangarkunjerkunja,
presented each member of the Kangaroo clan
with his personal totem, he spoke as follows: "Here is the body
of a kangaroo."[827] Thus the churinga is at once the body of the
ancestor, of the individual himself and of the totemic animal;
so, according to a strong and very just expression of Strehlow,
these three beings form a "solid unity."[828] They are almost
equivalent and interchangeable terms. This is as much as to
say that they are thought of as different aspects of one and the
same reality, which is also defined by the distinctive attributes
of the totem. Their common essence is the totemic principle.
The language itself expresses this identity. The word ratapa,
and the aratapi of the Loritja language, designate the mythical
embryo which is detached from the ancestor and which becomes
the child; now these same words also designate the totem of
this same child, such as is determined by the spot where the
mother believes that she conceived.[829]
Up to the present we have studied the doctrine of reincarnation
only in the tribes of Central Australia; therefore the bases
upon which our inference rests may be deemed too narrow.
But in the first place, for the reasons which we have pointed out,
the experiment holds good outside of the societies which we have
observed directly. Also, there are abundant facts proving that
the same or analogous conceptions are found in the most diverse
parts of Australia or, at least, have left very evident traces there.
They are found even in America.
Howitt mentions them among the Dieri of South Australia.[830]
The word Mura-mura, which Gason translates with Good Spirit
and which he thinks expresses a belief in a god creator,[831] is really
a collective word designating the group of ancestors placed by
the myth at the beginning of the tribe. They continue to exist
to-day as formerly. "They are believed to live in trees, which
are sacred for this reason." Certain irregularities of the ground,
rocks and springs are identified with these Mura-mura,[832] which
consequently resemble the Altjirangamitjina of the Arunta in a
singular way. The Kurnai of Gippsland, though retaining only
vestiges of totemism, also believe in the existence of ancestors
called Muk-Kurnai, and which they think of as beings intermediate
between men and animals.[833] Among the Nimbaldi,
Taplin has observed a theory of conception similar to that which
Strehlow attributes to the Arunta.[834] We find this belief in reincarnation
held integrally by the Wotjobaluk in Victoria.
"The spirits of the dead," says Mathews, "assemble in the
miyur[835] of their respective clans; they leave these to be born
again in human form when a favourable occasion presents
itself."[836] Mathews even affirms that "the belief in the reincarnation
or transmigration of souls is strongly enrooted in all the
Australian tribes."[837]
If we pass to the northern regions we find the pure doctrine
of the Arunta among the Niol-Niol in the north-west; every
birth is attributed to the incarnation of a pre-existing soul,
which introduces itself into the body of a woman.[838] In northern
Queensland myths, differing from the preceding only in form,
express exactly the same ideas. Among the tribes on the Pennefather
River it is believed that every man has two souls: the
one, called ngai, resides in the heart; the other, called choi,
remains in the placenta. Soon after birth the placenta is buried
in a consecrated place. A particular genius, named Anje-a, who
has charge of the phenomena of procreation, comes to get this
choi and keeps it until the child, being grown up, is married.
When the time comes to give him a son, Anje-a takes a bit of
the choi of this man, places it in the embryo he is making, and
inserts it into the womb of the mother. So it is out of the soul
of the father that that of the child is made. It is true that the
child does not receive the paternal soul integrally at first, for
the ngai remains in the heart of the father as long as he lives.
But when he dies the ngai, being liberated, also incarnates itself
in the bodies of the children; if there are several children it is
divided equally among them. Thus there is a perfect spiritual
continuity between the generations; it is the same soul which is
transmitted from a father to his children and from these to their
children, and this unique soul, always remaining itself in spite
of its successive divisions and subdivisions, is the one which
animated the first ancestor at the beginning of all things.[839]
Between this theory and the one held by the central tribes there
is only one difference of any importance; this is that the reincarnation
is not the work of the ancestors themselves but that of
a special genius who takes charge of this function professionally.
But it seems probable that this genius is the product of a syncretism
which has fused the numerous figures of the first ancestors
into one single being. This hypothesis is at least made probable
by the fact that the words Anje-a and Anjir are evidently very
closely related; now the second designates the first man, the
original ancestor from whom all men are descended.[840]
These same ideas are found again among the Indian tribes
of America. Krauss says that among the Tlinkit, the souls of
the departed are believed to come back to earth and introduce
themselves into the bodies of the pregnant women of their families.
"So when a woman dreams, during pregnancy, of some deceased
relative, she believes that the soul of this latter has penetrated
into her. If the young child has some characteristic mark which
the dead man had before, they believe that it is the dead man
himself come back to earth, and his name is given to the child."[841]
This belief is also general among the Haida. It is the shaman
who reveals which relative it was who reincarnated himself in
the child and what name should consequently be given to him.[842]
Among the Kwakiutl it is believed that the latest member of a
family who died comes back to life in the person of the first child
to be born in that family.[843] It is the same with the Hurons, the
Iroquois, the Tinneh, and many other tribes of the United States.[844]
The universality of these conceptions extends, of course, to
the conclusion which we have deduced from them, that is, to
the explanation of the idea of the soul which we have proposed.
Its general acceptability is also proved by the following facts.
We know[845] that each individual contains within him something
of that anonymous force which is diffused in the sacred species;
he is a member of this species himself. But as an empirical
and visible being, he is not, for, in spite of the symbolic designs
and marks with which he decorates his body, there is nothing
in him to suggest the form of an animal or plant. So it must be
that there is another being in him, in whom he recognizes himself,
but whom he represents in the form of an animal or vegetable
species. Now is it not evident that this double can only be the
soul, since the soul is, of itself, already a double of the subject
whom it animates? The justification of this identification is
completed by the fact that the organs where the fragment of the
totemic principle contained in each individual incarnates itself
the most eminently are also those where the soul resides. This
is the case with the blood. The blood contains something of
the nature of the totem, as is proved by the part it takes in the
totemic ceremonies.[846] But at the same time, the blood is one of
the seats of the soul; or rather, it is the soul itself, seen from
without. When blood flows, life runs out and, in the same process,
the soul escapes. So the soul is confused with the sacred principle
which is imminent in the blood.
Regarding matters from another point of view, if our explanation
is well-founded, the totemic principle, in penetrating into
the individual as we suppose, should retain a certain amount
of autonomy there, since it is quite distinct from the subject in
whom it is incarnated. Now this is just what Howitt claims to
have observed among the Yuin: "That in this tribe the totem
is thought to be in some way part of a man is clearly seen by the
case of Umbara, before mentioned, who told me that, many
years ago, someone of the Lace-lizard totem sent it while he
was asleep, and that it went down his throat and almost ate
his totem, which was in his breast, so that he nearly died."[847]
So it is quite true that the totem is broken up in individualizing
itself and that each of the bits thus detached plays the part of
a spirit or soul residing in the body.[848]
But there are other more clearly demonstrative facts. If the
soul is only the totemic principle individualized, it should have,
in certain cases at least, rather close relations with the animal
or vegetable species whose form is reproduced by the totem.
And, in fact, "the Geawe-Gal (a tribe of New South Wales)
had a superstition that everyone had within himself an affinity
to the spirit of some bird, beast or reptile. Not that he sprung
from the creature in any way, but that the spirit which was in
him was akin to that of the creature."[849]
There are even cases where the soul is believed to emanate
directly from the animal or vegetable serving as totem. Among
the Arunta, according to Strehlow, when a woman has eaten a
great deal of fruit, it is believed that she will give birth to a child
who will have this fruit as totem. If, at the moment when she
felt the first tremblings of the child, she was looking at a
kangaroo, it is believed that the ratapa of the kangaroo has
entered her body and fertilized her.[850] H. Basedow reported the
same fact from the Wogait.[851] We know, also, that the ratapa
and the soul are almost indistinguishable things. Now, such
an origin could never have been attributed to the soul if men did
not think that it was made out of the same substances as the
plants and animals of the totemic species.
Thus the soul is frequently represented in an animal form.
It is known that in inferior societies, death is never considered
a natural event, due to the action of purely physical causes; it
is generally attributed to the evil workings of some sorcerer.
In a large number of Australian societies, in order to determine
who is the responsible author of this murder, they work on the
principle that the soul of the murderer must inevitably come to
visit its victim. Therefore, the body is placed upon a scaffolding;
then, the ground under the corpse and all around it is carefully
smoothed off so that the slightest mark becomes easily perceptible.
They return the next day; if an animal has passed by there
during the interval, its tracks are readily recognizable. Their
form reveals the species to which it belongs, and from that,
they infer the social group of which the guilty man is a member.
They say that it is a man of such a class or such a clan,[852] according
to whether the animal is the totem of this or that class or clan.
So the soul is believed to have come in the form of the totemic
animal.
In other societies where totemism has weakened or disappeared,
the soul still continues to be thought of in an animal form.
The natives of Cape Bedford (North Queensland) believe that
the child, at the moment of entering the body of its mother,
is a curlew if it is a girl, or a snake if it is a boy.[853] It is only later
that it takes a human form. Many of the Indians of North
America, says the Prince of Wied, say that they have an animal
in their bodies.[854] The Bororo of Brazil represent the soul in the
form of a bird, and therefore believe that they are birds of the
same variety.[855] In other places, it is thought of as a snake, a
lizard, a fly, a bee, etc.[856]
But it is especially after death that this animal nature of the
soul is manifested. During life, this characteristic is partially
veiled, as it were, by the very form of the human body. But
when death has once set it free, it becomes itself again. Among
the Omaha, in at least two of the Buffalo clans, it is believed
that the souls of the dead go to rejoin the buffalo, their ancestors.[857]
The Hopi are divided into a certain number of clans, whose
ancestors were animals or beings with animal forms. Now
Schoolcraft tells us that they say that at death, they take their
original form again; each becomes a bear or deer, according to
the clan to which he belongs.[858] Very frequently the soul is
believed to reincarnate itself in the body of an animal.[859] It is
probably from this that the widely-spread doctrine of metempsychosis
was derived. We have already seen how hard pressed
Tylor is to account for it.[860] If the soul is an essentially human
principle, what could be more curious than this marked predilection
which it shows, in so large a number of societies, for
the animal form? On the other hand, everything is explained
if, by its very constitution, the soul is closely related to the
animal, for in that case, when it returns to the animal world
at the close of this life, it is only returning to its real nature.
Thus the generality of the belief in metempsychosis is a new
proof that the constituent elements of the idea of the soul have
been taken largely from the animal kingdom, as is presupposed
by the theory which we have just set forth.
Thus the notion of the soul is a particular application of the
beliefs relative to sacred beings. This is the explanation of the
religious character which this idea has had from the moment
when it first appeared in history, and which it still retains to-day.
In fact, the soul has always been considered a sacred thing; on
this ground, it is opposed to the body which is, in itself, profane.
It is not merely distinguished from its material envelope as the
inside from the outside; it is not merely represented as made
out of a more subtle and fluid matter; but more than this, it
inspires those sentiments which are everywhere reserved for that
which is divine. If it is not made into a god, it is at least regarded
as a spark of the divinity. This essential characteristic would be
inexplicable if the idea of the soul were only a pre-scientific
solution given to the problem of dreams; for there is nothing
in the dream to awaken religious emotions, so the cause by which
these are explained could not have such a character. But if
the soul is a part of the divine substance, it represents something
not ourselves that is within us; if it is made of the same mental
matter as the sacred beings, it is natural that it should become
the object of the same sentiments.
And the sacred character which men thus attribute to themselves
is not the product of a pure illusion either; like the notions
of religious force and of divinity, the notion of the soul is not
without a foundation in reality. It is perfectly true that we are
made up of two distinct parts, which are opposed to one another
as the sacred to the profane, and we may say that, in a certain
sense, there is divinity in us. For society, this unique source of
all that is sacred, does not limit itself to moving us from without
and affecting us for the moment; it establishes itself within us
in a durable manner. It arouses within us a whole world of ideas
and sentiments which express it but which, at the same time,
form an integral and permanent part of ourselves. When the
Australian goes away from a religious ceremony, the representations
which this communal life has aroused or re-aroused within
him are not obliterated in a second. The figures of the great
ancestors, the heroic exploits whose memory these rites perpetuate,
the great deeds of every sort in which he, too, has participated
through the cult, in a word, all these numerous ideals which he
has elaborated with the co-operation of his fellows, continue
to live in his consciousness and, through the emotions which are
attached to them and the ascendancy which they hold over his
entire being, they are sharply distinguished from the vulgar
impressions arising from his daily relations with external things.
Moral ideas have the same character. It is society which forces
them upon us, and as the respect inspired by it is naturally
extended to all that comes from it, its imperative rules of conduct
are invested, by reason of their origin, with an authority and a
dignity which is shared by none of our internal states: therefore,
we assign them a place apart in our psychical life. Although
our moral conscience is a part of our consciousness, we do not
feel ourselves on an equality with it. In this voice which makes
itself heard only to give us orders and establish prohibitions,
we cannot recognize our own voices; the very tone in which it
speaks to us warns us that it expresses something within us
that is not of ourselves. This is the objective foundation of the
idea of the soul: those representations whose flow constitutes
our interior life are of two different species which are irreducible
one into another. Some concern themselves with the external
and material world; others, with an ideal world to which we
attribute a moral superiority over the first. So we are really
made up of two beings facing in different and almost contrary
directions, one of whom exercises a real pre-eminence over the
other. Such is the profound meaning of the antithesis which
all men have more or less clearly conceived between the body
and the soul, the material and the spiritual beings who coexist
within us. Moralists and preachers have often maintained
that no one can deny the reality of duty and its sacred character
without falling into materialism. And it is true that if we
have no idea of moral and religious imperatives, our psychical
life will all be reduced to one level,[861] all our states of consciousness
will be on the same plane, and all feeling of duality will perish.
To make this duality intelligible, it is, of course, in no way
necessary to imagine a mysterious and unrepresentable substance,
under the name of the soul, which is opposed to the body. But
here, as in regard to the idea of sacredness, the error concerns
the letter of the symbol employed, not the reality of the fact
symbolized. It remains true that our nature is double; there
really is a particle of divinity in us because there is within us
us a particle of these great ideas which are the soul of the
group.
So the individual soul is only a portion of the collective soul
of the group; it is the anonymous force at the basis of the
cult, but incarnated in an individual whose personality it
espouses; it is mana individualized. Perhaps dreams aided in
determining certain secondary characteristics of the idea. The
inconsistency and instability of the images which fill our minds
during sleep, and their remarkable aptitude for transforming
themselves into one another, may have furnished the model
for this subtile, transparent and Protean matter out of which
the soul is believed to be made. Also, the facts of swooning,
catalepsy, etc., may have suggested the idea that the soul was
mobile, and quitted the body temporarily during this life; this,
in its turn, has served to explain certain dreams. But all these
experiences and observations could have had only a secondary
and complimentary influence, whose very existence it is difficult
to establish. All that is really essential in the idea comes from
elsewhere.
But does not this genesis of the idea of the soul misunderstand
its essential characteristic? If the soul is a particular
form of the impersonal principle which is diffused in the group,
the totemic species and all the things of every sort which are
attached to these, at bottom it is impersonal itself. So, with
differences only of degree, it should have the same properties
as the force of which it is a special form, and particularly, the
same diffusion, the same aptitude for spreading itself contagiously
and the same ubiquity. But quite on the contrary, the soul is
voluntarily represented as a concrete, definite being, wholly
contained within itself and not communicable to others; it is
made the basis of our personality.
But this way of conceiving the soul is the product of a late and
philosophic elaboration. The popular representation, as it is
spontaneously formed from common experience, is very different,
especially at first. For the Australian, the soul is a very vague
thing, undecided and wavering in form, and spread over the
whole organism. Though it manifests itself especially at certain
points, there are probably none from which it is totally absent.
So it has a diffusion, a contagiousness and an omnipresence
comparable to those of the mana. Like the mana, it is able to
divide and duplicate itself infinitely, though remaining entire
in each of its parts; it is from these divisions and duplications
that the plurality of souls is derived. On the other hand, the
doctrine of reincarnation, whose generality we have established,
shows how many impersonal elements enter into the idea of the
soul and how essential those are. For if the same soul is going
to clothe a new personality in each generation, the individual
forms in which it successively develops itself must all be equally
external to it, and have nothing to do with its true nature. It
is a sort of generic substance which individualizes itself only
secondarily and superficially. Moreover, this conception of the
soul is by no means completely gone. The cult of relics shows
that for a host of believers even to-day, the soul of a saint,
with all its essential powers, continues to adhere to his different
bones; and this implies that he is believed to be able to diffuse
himself, subdivide himself and incorporate himself in all sorts
of different things simultaneously.
Just as the characteristic attributes of the mana are found
in the soul, so secondary and superficial changes are enough to
enable the mana to individualize itself in the form of a soul.
We pass from the first idea to the second with no break of continuity.
Every religious force which is attached in a special
way to a determined being participates in the characteristics
of this being, takes on its appearance and becomes its spiritual
double. Tregear, in his Maori-Polynesian dictionary, has thought
it possible to connect the word mana with another group of words,
such as manawa, manamana, etc., which seem to belong to
the same family, and which signify heart, life, consciousness.[862]
Is this not equivalent to saying that some sort of kinship ought
to exist between the corresponding ideas as well, that is to say,
between the idea of impersonal force and those of internal life,
mental force and, in a word, of the soul? This is why the question
whether the churinga is sacred because it serves as the residence
of a soul, as Spencer and Gillen believe, or because it has impersonal
virtues, as Strehlow thinks, seems to us to have little interest
and to be without sociological importance. Whether the efficacy
of a sacred object is represented in an abstract form in the mind
or is attributed to some personal agent does not really matter.
The psychological roots of both beliefs are identical: an object
is sacred because it inspires, in one way or another, a collective
sentiment of respect which removes it from profane touches.
In order to explain this sentiment, men sometimes fall back on
to a vague and imprecise cause, and sometimes on to a determined
spiritual being endowed with a name and a history; but these
different interpretations are superadded to one fundamental
phenomenon which is the same in both cases.
This, moreover, is what explains the singular confusions,
examples of which we have met with as we have progressed.
The individual, the soul of the ancestor which he reincarnates
or from which his own is an emanation, his churinga and the
animals of the totemic species are, as we have said, partially
equivalent and interchangeable things. This is because in certain
connections, they all affect the collective consciousness in the
same way. If the churinga is sacred, it is because of the collective
sentiments of respect inspired by the totemic emblem carved
upon its surface; now the same sentiment attaches itself to the
animals or plants whose outward form is reproduced by the
totem, to the soul of the individual, for it is thought of in the
form of the totemic being, and finally to the ancestral soul, of
which the preceding one is only a particular aspect. So all these
various objects, whether real or ideal, have one common element
by which they arouse a single affective state in the mind, and
through this, they become confused. In so far as they are
expressed by one and the same representation, they are indistinct.
This is how the Arunta has come to regard the churinga as the
body common to the individual, the ancestor and even the
totemic being. It is his way of expressing the identity of the
sentiments of which these different things are the object.
However, it does not follow from the fact the idea of the soul
is derived from the idea of mana that the first has a relatively
later origin, or that there was a period in history when men
were acquainted with religious forces only in their impersonal
forms. When some wish to designate by the word preanimist
an historical period during which animism was completely unknown,
they build up an arbitrary hypothesis;[863] for there is no
people among whom the ideas of the soul and of mana do not
coexist side by side. So there is no ground for imagining that
they were formed at two distinct times; everything, on the
contrary, goes to show that the two are coeval. Just as there is
no society without individuals, so those impersonal forces which
are disengaged from the group cannot establish themselves
without incarnating themselves in the individual consciousnesses
where they individualize themselves. In reality, we do not
have two different developments, but two different aspects of
one and the same development. It is true that they do not
have an equal importance; one is more essential than the other.
The idea of mana does not presuppose the idea of the soul; for
if the mana is going to individualize itself and break itself up
into the particular souls, it must first of all exist, and what it is
in itself does not depend upon the forms it takes when individualized.
But on the contrary, the idea of the soul cannot be
understood except when taken in connection with the idea of
mana. So on this ground, it is possible to say that it is the result
of a secondary formation; but we are speaking of a secondary
formation in the logical, not the chronological, sense of the
word.
But how does it come that men have believed that the soul
survives the body and is even able to do so for an indefinite
length of time?
From the analysis which we have made, it is evident that
the belief in immortality has not been established under the
influence of moral ideas. Men have not imagined the prolongation
of their existence beyond the tomb in order that a just retribution
for moral acts may be assured in another life, if it fails in this
one; for we have seen that all considerations of this sort are
foreign to the primitive conception of the beyond.
Nor is the other hypothesis any better, according to which
the other life was imagined as a means of escaping the agonizing
prospect of annihilation. In the first place, it is not true that
the need of personal survival was actively felt at the beginning.
The primitive generally accepts the idea of death with a sort of
indifference. Being trained to count his own individuality
for little, and being accustomed to exposing his life constantly,
he gives it up easily enough.[864] More than that, the immortality
promised by the religions he practices is not personal. In a
large number of cases, the soul does not continue the personality
of the dead man, or does not continue it long, for, forgetful
of its previous existence, it goes away, after a while, to animate
another body and thus becomes the vivifying principle of a new
personality. Even among the most advanced peoples, it was
only a pale and sad existence that shades led in Sheol or Erebus,
and could hardly attenuate the regrets occasioned by the
memories of the life lost.
A more satisfactory explanation is the one attaching the
conception of a posthumous life to the experiences of dreams.
Our dead friends and relatives reappear to us in dreams: we see
them act, we hear them speak; it is natural to conclude that
they continue to exist. But if these observations were able to
confirm the idea after it had once been born, they hardly seem
capable of creating it out of nothing. Dreams in which we see
departed persons living again are too rare and too short and
leave only too vague recollections of themselves, to have been
able to suggest so important a system of beliefs to men all by
themselves. There is a remarkable lack of proportion between
the effect and the cause to which it is attributed.
What makes this question embarrassing is the fact that in
itself, the idea of the soul does not imply that of its survival,
but rather seems to exclude it. In fact, we have seen that the
soul, though being distinguished from the body, is believed,
nevertheless, to be closely united to it: it ages along with
the body, it feels a reaction from all the maladies that fall upon
the body; so it would seem natural that it should die with the
body. At least, men ought to have believed that it ceased to
exist from the moment when it definitely lost its original form,
and when it was no longer what it had been. Yet it is at just
this moment that a new life opens out before it.
The myths which we have already described give the only
possible explanation of this belief. We have seen that the
souls of new-born children are either emanations of the ancestral
souls, or these souls themselves reincarnated. But in order that
they may either reincarnate themselves, or periodically give off
new emanations, they must have survived their first holders.
So it seems as though they admitted the survival of the dead in
order to explain the birth of the living. The primitive does not
have the idea of an all-powerful god who creates souls out of
nothing. It seems to him that souls cannot be made except out
of souls. So those who are born can only be new forms of those
who have been; consequently, it is necessary that these latter
continue to exist in order that others may be born. In fine,
the belief in the immortality of the soul is the only way in which
men were able to explain a fact which could not fail to attract
their attention; this fact is the perpetuity of the life of the group.
Individuals die, but the clan survives. So the forces which give
it life must have the same perpetuity. Now these forces are the
souls which animate individual bodies; for it is in them and
through them that the group is realized. For this reason, it is
necessary that they endure. It is even necessary that in enduring,
they remain always the same; for, as the clan always keeps its
characteristic appearance, the spiritual substance out of which
it is made must be thought of as qualitatively invariable. Since
it is always the same clan with the same totemic principle, it is
necessary that the souls be the same, for souls are only the
totemic principle broken up and particularized. Thus there is
something like a germinative plasm, of a mystic order, which is
transmitted from generation to generation and which makes,
or at least is believed to make, the spiritual unity of the clan
through all time. And this belief, in spite of its symbolic character,
is not without a certain objective truth. For though the group
may not be immortal in the absolute sense of the word, still it is
true that it endures longer than the individuals and that it is
born and incarnated afresh in each new generation.
A fact confirms this interpretation. We have seen that
according to the testimony of Strehlow, the Arunta distinguish
two sorts of souls: on the one hand are those of the ancestors
of the Alcheringa, on the other, those of the individuals who
actually compose the active body of the tribe at each moment
in history. The second sort only survive the body for a relatively
short time; they are soon totally annihilated. Only the former
are immortal; as they are uncreated, so they do not perish.
It is also to be noticed that they are the only ones whose immortality
is necessary to explain the permanence of the group;
for it is upon them, and upon them alone, that it is incumbent to
assure the perpetuity of the clan, for every conception is their work.
In this connection, the others have no part to play. So souls are
not said to be immortal except in so far as this immortality is
useful in rendering intelligible the continuity of the collective life.
Thus the causes leading to the first beliefs in a future life had
no connections with the functions to be filled at a later period
by the institutions beyond the tomb. But when that had
once appeared, they were soon utilized for other purposes besides
those which had been their original reasons for existence. Even
in the Australian societies, we see them beginning to organize
themselves for this other purpose. Moreover, there was no need
of any fundamental transformation for this. How true it is
that the same social institution can successively fulfil different
functions without changing its nature!
The idea of the soul was for a long time, and still is in part,
the popular form of the idea of personality.[865] So the genesis
of the former of these ideas should aid us in understanding how
the second one was formed.
From what has already been said, it is clear that the notion
of person is the product of two sorts of factors. One of these is
essentially impersonal: it is the spiritual principle serving as
the soul of the group. In fact, it is this which constitutes the
very substance of individual souls. Now this is not the possession
of any one in particular: it is a part of the collective patrimony;
in it and through it, all consciousnesses communicate. But on
the other hand, in order to have separate personalities, it is
necessary that another factor intervene to break up and differentiate
this principle: in other words, an individualizing factor
is necessary. It is the body that fulfils this function. As bodies
are distinct from each other, and as they occupy different points
of space and time, each of them forms a special centre about
which the collective representations reflect and colour themselves
differently. The result is that even if all the consciousnesses in
these bodies are directed towards the same world, to wit, the
world of the ideas and sentiments which brings about the moral
unity of the group, they do not all see it from the same angle;
each one expresses it in its own fashion.
Of these two equally indispensable factors, the former is
certainly not the less important, for this is the one which furnishes
the original matter for the idea of the soul. Perhaps some will be
surprised to see so considerable a rôle attributed to the impersonal
element in the genesis of the idea of personality. But the philosophical
analysis of the idea of person, which has gone far ahead
of the sociological analysis, has reached analogous results on
this point. Among all the philosophers, Leibniz is one of those
who have felt most vividly what a personality is; for before
all, the nomad is a personal and autonomous being. Yet, for
Leibniz, the contents of all the monads is identical. In fact,
all are consciousnesses which express one and the same object,
the world; and as the world itself is only a system of representations,
each particular consciousness is really only the reflection
of the universal consciousness. However, each one
expresses it from its own point of view, and in its own manner.
We know how this difference of perspectives comes from the
fact that the monads are situated differently in relation to each
other and to the whole system which they constitute.
Kant expresses the same sentiment, though in a different
form. For him, the corner-stone of the personality is the will.
Now the will is the faculty of acting in conformity with reason,
and the reason is that which is most impersonal within us. For
reason is not my reason; it is human reason in general. It is
the power which the mind has of rising above the particular,
the contingent and the individual, to think in universal forms.
So from this point of view, we may say that what makes a man
a personality is that by which he is confounded with other
men, that which makes him a man, not a certain man. The
senses, the body and, in a word, all that individualizes, is, on
the contrary, considered as the antagonist of the personality by
Kant.
This is because individuation is not the essential characteristic
of the personality. A person is not merely a single subject
distinguished from all the others. It is especially a being to
which is attributed a relative autonomy in relation to the environment
with which it is most immediately in contact. It is represented
as capable of moving itself, to a certain degree: this is
what Leibniz expressed in an exaggerated way when he said
that the monad was completely closed to the outside. Now
our analysis permits us to see how this conception was formed
and to what it corresponds.
In fact, the soul, a symbolic representation of the personality,
has the same characteristic. Although closely bound to the
body, it is believed to be profoundly distinct from it and to
enjoy, in relation to it, a large degree of independence. During
life, it may leave it temporarily, and it definitely withdraws at
death. Far from being dependent upon the body, it dominates
it from the higher dignity which is in it. It may well take from
the body the outward form in which it individualizes itself, but
it owes nothing essential to it. Nor is the autonomy which all
peoples have attributed to the soul a pure illusion; we know
now what its objective foundation is. It is quite true that the
elements which serve to form the idea of the soul and those
which enter into the representation of the body come from two
different sources that are independent of one another. One sort
are made up of the images and impressions coming from all
parts of the organism; the others consist in the ideas and
sentiments which come from and express society. So the former
are not derived from the latter. There really is a part of ourselves
which is not placed in immediate dependence upon the
organic factor: this is all that which represents society in us.
The general ideas which religion or science fix in our minds,
the mental operations which these ideas suppose, the beliefs
and sentiments which are at the basis of our moral life, and all
these superior forms of psychical activity which society awakens
in us, these do not follow in the trail of our bodily states, as our
sensations and our general bodily consciousness do. As we
have already shown, this is because the world of representations
in which social life passes is superimposed upon its material
substratum, far from arising from it; the determinism which
reigns there is much more supple than the one whose roots
are in the constitution of our tissues and it leaves with the
actor a justified impression of the greatest liberty. The medium
in which we thus move is less opaque and less resistant: we feel
ourselves to be, and we are, more at our ease there. In a word,
the only way we have of freeing ourselves from physical forces
is to oppose them with collective forces.
But whatever we receive from society, we hold in common
with our companions. So it is not at all true that we are more
personal as we are more individualized. The two terms are
in no way synonymous: in one sense, they oppose more than
they imply one another. Passion individualizes, yet it also
enslaves. Our sensations are essentially individual; yet we
are more personal the more we are freed from our senses and
able to think and act with concepts. So those who insist upon all
the social elements of the individual do not mean by that to
deny or debase the personality. They merely refuse to confuse
it with the fact of individuation.[866]
When we come to the idea of the soul, we have left the
circle of purely impersonal forces. But above the soul
the Australian religions already recognize mythical personalities
of a superior order: spirits, civilizing heroes and even gods who
are properly so-called. While it will be unnecessary to enter
into the detail of the mythologies, we must at least seek the form
in which these three categories of spiritual beings are presented
in Australia, and the way in which they are connected with the
whole religious system.
A soul is not a spirit. In fact, it is shut up in a determined
organism; though it may leave it at certain moments, it is
ordinarily a prisoner there. It definitely escapes only at death,
and we have already seen the difficulties under which the separation
is accomplished. A spirit, on the contrary, though often
tied by the closest bonds to some particular object, such as a
spring, a rock, a tree, a star, etc., and though residing there by
preference, may go away at will and lead an independent existence
in free space. So it has a more extended circle of action.
It can act upon the individuals who approach it or whom it
approaches. The soul, on the contrary, has almost no influence
except over the body it animates; it is very exceptional that
it succeeds in influencing outside objects during the course of
its terrestrial life.
But if the soul does not have the distinctive characteristics of
the spirit, it acquires them, at least in part, at death. In fact,
when it has been disincarnated, so long as it does not descend
into a body again, it has the same liberty of movement as a
spirit. Of course, after the rites of mourning have been accomplished,
it is thought to go to the land of souls, but before this
it remains about the tomb for a rather long time. Also, even
after it has definitely departed, it is believed to prowl about in
the brush near the camp.[867] It is generally represented as a
rather beneficent being, especially for the surviving members
of its family; we have seen that the soul of the father comes to
aid the growth of his children or his grandchildren. But it also
happens sometimes that it shows signs of a veritable cruelty;
everything depends upon its humour and the manner in which
it is treated by the living.[868] So it is recommended, especially to
women and children, not to venture outside of the camp during
the night so as not to expose oneself to dangerous encounters.[869]
However, a ghost is not a real spirit. In the first place, it
generally has only a limited power of action; also, it does not
have a definite province. It is a vagabond, upon whom no
determined task is incumbent, for the effect of death has been
to put it outside of all regular forms; as regards the living, it
is a sort of a exile. A spirit, on the other hand, always has a
power of a certain sort and it is by this that it is defined; it is
set over a certain order of cosmic or social phenomena; it has
a more or less precise function to fulfil in the system of the
universe.
But there are some souls which satisfy this double condition
and which are consequently spirits, in the proper sense of the
word. These are the souls of the mythical personages whom
popular imagination has placed at the beginning of time, the
Altjirangamitjina or the men of the Alcheringa among the Arunta;
the Mura-mura among the tribes of Lake Eyre; the Muk-Kurnai
among the Kurnai, etc. In one sense, they are still souls, for
they are believed to have formerly animated bodies from which
they separated themselves at a certain moment. But even when
they led a terrestrial life, they already had, as we have seen,
exceptional powers; they had a mana superior to that of ordinary
men, and they have kept it. Also, they are charged with definite
functions.
In the first place, whether we accept the version of Spencer
and Gillen or that of Strehlow, it is to them that the care of
assuring the periodical recruiting of the clan falls. They have
charge of the phenomena of conception.
Even when the conception has been accomplished, the task
of the ancestor is not yet completed. It is his duty to guard
over the new-born child. Later, when the child has become a
man, he accompanies him in the hunt, brings game to him,
warns him by dreams of the dangers he may run, protects him
against his enemies, etc. On this point, Strehlow is entirely in
accord with Spencer and Gillen.[870] It is true that someone may
ask how it is possible, according to the version of these latter,
for the ancestor to fulfil this function; for, since he reincarnates
himself at the moment of conception, it seems as though he
should be confounded with the soul of the child and should
therefore be unable to protect it from without. But the fact is
that he does not reincarnate himself entirely; he merely duplicates
himself. One part of him enters the body of the woman
and fertilizes her; another part continues to exist outside and,
under the special name of Arumburinga, fulfils the office of
guardian genius.[871]
Thus we see how great a kinship there is between this ancestral
spirit and the genius of the Latins or the
δαίμων of the Greeks.[872]
The identification of function is complete. In fact, at first
the genius is the one who begets, qui gignit; he expresses and
personifies the powers of generation.[873] But at the same time,
he is the protector and director of the particular individual
to whose person he is attached.[874] He is finally confused with
the personality itself of this individual; he represents the totality
of the proclivities and tendencies which characterize him and
give him a distinctive appearance among other men.[875] Hence
come the well-known expressions indulgere genio, defraudere
genium with the sense of to follow one's natural temperament.
At bottom, the genius is another form or double of the soul
of the individual. This is proved by the partial synonomy of
genius and manes.[876] The manes is the genius after death; but
it is also all that survives of the dead man, that is to say, his
soul. In the same way, the soul of the Arunta and the ancestral
spirit which serves as his genius are only two different aspects
of one and the same being.
But it is not only in relation to persons that the ancestor
has a definite situation; he also has one in relation to things.
Though he is believed to have his real residence under the ground,
they think that he is always haunting the place where his nanja-tree
or rock is, or the water-hole which was spontaneously
formed at the exact spot where he disappeared into the ground,
having terminated his first existence. As this tree or rock is
believed to represent the body of the hero, they imagine that
the soul itself is constantly coming back there, and lives there
more or less permanently; it is by the presence of this soul that
they explain the religious respect inspired by these localities.
No one can break the branch of a nanja-tree without a risk of
falling sick.[877] "Formerly the act of breaking it down or injuring
it was punished with death. An animal or bird taking refuge
there could not be killed. Even the surrounding bushes had to
be respected: the grass could not be burned, the rocks also had
to be treated with respect. It was forbidden to remove them
or break them."[878] As this sacred character is attributed to the
ancestor, he appears as the spirit of this tree or rock, of this
water-hole or spring.[879] If the spring is thought of as having some
connection with rain,[880] he will become a spirit of rain. Thus,
the same souls which serve as protecting geniuses for men also
fulfil cosmic functions at the same time. It is undoubtedly in
this sense that we must understand the text of Roth where he
says that in northern Queensland, the spirits of nature are the
souls of the dead who have chosen to live in the forests or caves.[881]
So we have here some spiritual beings that are different from
the wandering souls with no definite powers. Strehlow calls
them gods;[882] but this expression is inexact, at least in the
great majority of cases. If it were true, then in a society like
the Arunta where each one has his protecting ancestor, there
would be as many or more gods than there are individuals.
It would merely introduce confusion into our terminology to
give the name of god to a sacred being with only one worshipper.
It may be, of course, that the figure of the ancestor grows to
a point where it resembles a real divinity. Among the Warramunga,
as we have already pointed out,[883] the clan as a whole
is thought to be descended from one sole and unique ancestor.
It is easily seen how this collective ancestor might, under certain
circumstances, become the object of a collective devotion. To
choose a notable example, this is what has happened to the
snake Wollunqua.[884] This mythical beast, from whom the clan
of the same name is held to be descended, continues to live,
they believe, in water-holes which are therefore surrounded
with a religious respect. Thus it becomes the object of a cult
which the clan celebrates collectively: through determined
rites, they attempt to please him and to win his favours, and
they address to him all sorts of prayers, etc. So we may say
that he is like a god of the clan. But this is a very exceptional
case, or even, according to Spencer and Gillen, a unique one.
Normally, the word "spirits" is the only one suitable for designating
these ancestral personages.
As to the manner in which this conception has been formed,
we may say that it is evident from what has preceded.
As we have already shown, the existence of individual souls,
when once admitted, cannot be understood unless one imagines
an original supply of fundamental souls at the origin of things,
from which all the others were derived. Now these architype
souls had to be conceived as containing within them the source
of all religious efficacy; for, since the imagination does not go
beyond them, it is from them and only from them that all sacred
things are believed to come, both the instruments of the cult,
the members of the clan and the animals of the totemic species.
They incarnate all the sacredness diffused in the whole tribe
and the whole world, and so they are attributed powers noticeably
superior to those enjoyed by the simple souls of men. Moreover,
time by itself increases and reinforces the sacred character of
things. A very ancient churinga inspires much more respect
than a new one, and is supposed to have more virtues.[885] The
sentiments of veneration of which it has been the object during
the series of successive generations who have handled it are,
as it were, accumulated in it. For the same reason, the personages
who for centuries have been the subject of myths respectfully
passed on from mouth to mouth, and periodically put into action
by the rites, could not fail to take a very especial place in the
popular imagination.
But how does it happen that, instead of remaining outside
of the organized society, they have become regular members of
it?
This is because each individual is the double of an ancestor.
Now when two beings are related as closely as this, they are
naturally conceived as incorporated together; since they participate
in the same nature, it seems as though that which affects
one ought to affect the other as well. Thus the group of mythical
ancestors became attached to the society of the living; the same
interests and the same passions were attributed to each; they
were regarded as associates. However, as the former had a
higher dignity than the latter, this association takes, in the
public mind, the form of an agreement between superiors and
inferiors, between patrons and clients, benefactors and recipients.
Thus comes this curious idea of a protecting genius who is
attached to each individual.
The question of how this ancestor came to have relations
not only with men, but also with things, may appear more
embarrassing; for, at the first glance, we do not see what connection
there can be between a personage of this sort and a
rock or tree. But a fact which we owe to Strehlow furnishes us
with a solution of this problem, which is at least probable.
These trees and rocks are not situated at any point in the
tribal territory, but, for the most part, they are grouped around
the sanctuaries, called ertnatulunga by Spencer and Gillen and
arknanaua by Strehlow, where the churinga of the clan is kept.[886]
We know the respect with which these localities are enhaloed
from the mere fact that the most precious instruments of the
cult are there. Each of these spreads sanctity all about it.
It is for this reason that the neighbouring trees and rocks appear
sacred, that it is forbidden to destroy or harm them, and that all
violence used against them is a sacrilege. This sacred character
is really due to a simple phenomenon of psychic contagiousness;
but in order to explain it, the native must admit that these
different objects have relations with the different beings in
whom he sees the source of all religious power, that is to say,
with the ancestors of the Alcheringa. Hence comes the system
of myths of which we have spoken. They imagined that each
ertnatulunga marked the spot where a group of ancestors entered
into the ground. The mounds or trees which covered the ground
were believed to represent their bodies. But as the soul retains,
in a general way, a sort of affinity for the body in which it dwelt,
they were naturally led to believe that these ancestral souls
continued to frequent these places where their material envelope
remained. So they were located in the rocks, the trees or the
water-holes. Thus each of them, though remaining attached to
some determined individual, became transformed into a sort of
genius loci and fulfilled its functions.[887]
The conceptions thus elucidated enable us to understand
a form of totemism which we have left unexplained up to the
present: this is individual totemism.
An individual totem is defined, in its essence, by the two
following characteristics: (1) it is a being in an animal or vegetable
form whose function is to protect an individual; (2) the
fate of this individual and that of his patron are closely united:
all that touches the latter is sympathetically communicated to
the former. Now the ancestral spirits of which we have just
been speaking answer to this same definition. They also belong,
at least in part, to the animal or vegetable kingdoms. They,
too, are protecting geniuses. Finally, a sympathetic bond unites
each individual to his protecting ancestor. In fact, the nanja-tree,
representing the mystical body of this ancestor, cannot be
destroyed without the man's feeling himself menaced. It is
true that this belief is losing its force to-day, but Spencer and
Gillen have observed it, and in any case, they are of the opinion
that formerly it was quite general.[888]
The identity of these two conceptions is found even in their
details.
The ancestral souls reside in trees or rocks which are considered
sacred. Likewise, among the Euahlayi, the spirit of the animal
serving as individual totem is believed to inhabit a tree or stone.[889]
This tree or stone is sacred; no one may touch it except the
proprietor of the totem; when it is a stone or rock, this interdiction
is still absolute.[890] The result is that they are veritable
places of refuge.
Finally, we have seen that the individual soul is only another
aspect of the ancestral spirit, according to Strehlow, this serves
after a fashion, as a second self.[891] Likewise, following an expression
of Mrs. Parker, the individual totem of the Euahlayi, called
Yunbeai, is the alter ego of the individual: "The soul of a man
is in his Yunbeai and the soul of his Yunbeai is in him."[892] So at
bottom, it is one soul in two bodies. The kinship of these two
notions is so close that they are sometimes expressed by one
and the same word. This is the case in Melanesia and in Polynesia:
atai in the island Mota, tamaniu in the island Aurora,
and talegia in Motlaw all designate both the soul of the individual
and his personal totem.[893] It is the same with aitu in Samoa.[894]
This is because the individual totem is merely the outward and
visible form of the ego or the personality, of which the soul is
the inward and invisible form.[895]
Thus the individual totem has all the essential characteristics
of the protecting ancestor and fills the same rôle: this is because
it has the same origin and proceeds from the same idea.
Each of them, in fact, consists in a duplication of the soul.
The totem, as the ancestor, is the soul of the individual, but
externalized and invested with powers superior to those it is
believed to possess while within the organism. Now this duplication
is the result of a psychological necessity; for it only expresses
the nature of the soul which, as we have seen, is double. In one
sense, it is ours: it expresses our personality. But at the same
time, it is outside of us, for it is only the reaching into us of a
religious force which is outside of us. We cannot confound
ourselves with it completely, for we attribute to it an excellence
and a dignity by which it rises far above us and our empirical
individuality. So there is a whole part of ourselves which we
tend to project into the outside. This way of thinking of ourselves
is so well established in our nature that we cannot escape
it, even when we attempt to regard ourselves without having
recourse to any religious symbols. Our moral consciousness is
like a nucleus about which the idea of the soul forms itself; yet
when it speaks to us, it gives the effect of an outside power,
superior to us, which gives us our law and judges us, but which
also aids and sustains us. When we have it on our side, we
feel ourselves to be stronger against the trials of life, and better
assured of triumphing over them, just as the Australian who,
when trusting in his ancestor or his personal totem, feels himself
more valiant against his enemies.[896] So there is something objective
at the basis of these conceptions, whether we have in mind
the Roman genius, the individual totem, or the Alcheringa
ancestor; and this is why they have survived, in various forms,
up to the present day. Everything goes just as if we really had
two souls; one which is within us, or rather, which is us; the
other which is above us, and whose function it is to control and
assist the first one. Frazer thought that the individual totem was
an external soul; but he believed that this exteriority was the
result of an artifice and a magic ruse. In reality, it is implied
in the very constitution of the idea of the soul.[897]
The spirits of which we have just been speaking are essentially
benefactors. Of course they punish a man if he does not treat
them in a fitting manner;[898] but it is not their function to work
evil.
However, a spirit is in itself just as capable of doing evil
as good. This is why we find a class of evil geniuses forming
itself naturally, in opposition to these auxiliary and protecting
spirits, which enables men to explain the permanent evils that
they have to suffer, their nightmares[899] and illnesses,[900] whirlwinds
and tempests,[901] etc. Of course this is not saying that all these
human miseries have appeared as things too abnormal to be
explained in any way except by supernatural forces; but it is
saying that these forces are thought of under a religious form.
As it is a religious principle which is considered the source of
life, so, all the events which disturb or destroy life ought logically
to be traced to a principle of the same sort.
These harmful spirits seem to have been conceived on the
same model as the good spirits of which we have just been
speaking. They are represented in an animal form, or one that
is half-animal, half-man;[902] but men are naturally inclined to
give them enormous dimensions and a repulsive aspect.[903] Like
the souls of the ancestors, they are believed to inhabit trees,
rocks, water-holes and subterranean caverns.[904] Taking the
Arunta as a particular example, Spencer and Gillen say expressly
that these evil geniuses, known under the name of Oruncha,
are beings of the Alcheringa.[905] Many are represented as the
souls of persons who had led a terrestrial life.[906] Among the
personages of the fabulous epoch, there were, in fact, many
different temperaments: some had cruel and evil instincts which
they retained;[907] others were naturally of a bad constitution;
they were thin and emaciated; so after they had entered into
the ground, the nanja rocks to which they gave birth were considered
the homes of dangerous influences.[908]
Yet they are distinguished by special characteristics from
their confrères, the heroes of the Alcheringa. They do not
reincarnate themselves; among living men, there is no one who
represents them; they are without human posterity.[909] When,
judging from certain signs, they believe that a child is the
result of their work, it is put to death as soon as born.[910] Also,
these belong to no determined totemic group; they are outside
the social organization.[911] By all these traits, they are recognized
as magic powers rather than religious ones. And in fact, it is
especially with the magician that they have relations; very
frequently it is from them that he gets his powers.[912] So we
have now arrived at the point where the world of religion
stops and that of magic commences; and as this latter is
outside the field of our research, we need not push our researches
further.[913]
The appearance of the notion of spirits marks an important
step in advance in the individualization of religious forces.
However, the spiritual beings of whom we have been speaking
up to the present are as yet only secondary personages. They
are either evil-working geniuses who belong to magic rather
than religion, or else, being attached to determined individuals
or places, they cannot make their influence felt except within a
circle of a very limited radius. So they can only be the objects
of private and local rites. But after the idea has once been
established, it naturally spreads to the higher spheres of the
religious life, and thus mythical personalities of a superior order
are born.
Though the ceremonies of the different clans differ from one
another, they all belong to the same religion, none the less; also,
a certain number of essential similarities exist between them.
Since all the clans are only parts of one and the same tribe, the
unity of the tribe cannot fail to make itself felt through this
diversity of particular cults. In fact, there is no totemic group
that does not have churinga and bull-roarers, and these are used
everywhere in the same way. The organization of the tribe
into phratries, matrimonial classes and clans, and the exogamic
interdictions attached to them, are veritable tribal institutions.
The initiation celebrations all include certain fundamental
practices, the extraction of a tooth, circumcision, subincision,
etc., which do not vary with the totems within a single tribe.
The uniformity on this point is the more easily established
as the initiation always takes place in the presence of the tribe,
or at least, before an assembly to which the different clans have
been summoned. The reason for this is that the object of the
initiation is to introduce the neophyte into the religious life,
not merely of the clan into which he was born, but of the tribe
as a whole; so it is necessary that the various aspects of the
tribal religion be represented before him and take place, in a
way, under his very eyes. It is on this occasion that the moral
and religious unity of the tribe is affirmed the best.
Thus, in each society there are a certain number of rites
which are distinguished from all the others by their homogeneity
and their generality. So noticeably a harmony seemed to be
explicable only by a unity of origin. So they imagined that
each group of similar rites had been founded by one and the same
ancestor, who came to reveal them to the tribe as a whole. Thus,
among the Arunta, it was an ancestor of the Wild Cat clan,
named Putiaputia,[914] who is thought to have taught men the way
of making churinga and using it ritually; among the Warramunga,
it was Murtu-murtu;[915] among the Urabunna, Witurna;[916]
it was Atnatu among the Kaitish[917] and Tendun among the
Kurnai.[918] Likewise, the practice of circumcision is attributed
by the eastern Dieri and many other tribes[919] to two special
Muramura, and by the Arunta to a hero of the Alcheringa, of
the Lizard totem, named Mangarkunjerkunja.[920] To this same
personage are ascribed the foundation of the matrimonial institutions
and the social organization they imply, the discovery
of fire, the invention of the spear, the buckler, the boomerang,
etc. It also happens very frequently that the inventor of the
bull-roarer is also considered the founder of the rites of initiation.[921]
These special ancestors cannot be put in the same rank as
the others. On the one hand, the sentiments of veneration
which they inspire are not limited to one clan, but are common
to the whole tribe. On the other hand, it is to them that men
ascribe all that is most esteemed in the tribal civilization. For
this double reason, they became the object of a special consideration.
For example, they say of Atnatu that he was born
in heaven at an epoch even prior to the times of the Alcheringa,
that he made himself and that he gave himself the name he
bears. The stars are his wives and daughters. Beyond the
heaven where he lives, there is another one with another sun.
His name is sacred, and should never be pronounced before
women or non-initiated persons.[922]
Yet, howsoever great the prestige enjoyed by these personages
may be, there was no occasion for founding special rites in their
honour; for they themselves are only rites personified. They
have no other reason for existence than to explain existing
practices; they are only another aspect of these. The churinga
and the ancestor who invented it are only one; sometimes,
both have the same name.[923] When someone makes the bull-roarer
resound, they say that it is the voice of the ancestor
making himself heard.[924] But, for the very reason that each
of these heroes is confounded with the cult he is believed to
have founded, they believe that he is attentive to the way in
which it is celebrated. He is not satisfied unless the worshippers
fulfil their duties exactly; he punishes those who are negligent.[925]
So he is thought of as the guardian of the rite, as well as its
founder, and for this reason, he becomes invested with a veritable
moral rôle.[926]
However, this mythological formation is not the highest which
is to be found among the Australians. There are at least a
certain number of tribes who have arrived at a conception
of a god who, if not unique, is at least supreme, and to whom
is attributed a pre-eminent position among all the other religious
entities.
The existence of this belief was pointed out long ago by
different observers;[927] but it is Howitt who has contributed the
most to establishing its relative generality. In fact, he has
verified it over a very extended geographical area embracing
the State of Victoria and New South Wales and even extending
up to Queensland.[928] In all this entire region, a considerable
number of tribes believe in the existence of a veritable tribal
divinity, who has different names, according to the district. The
ones most frequently employed are Bunjil or Punjil,[929] Daramulun[930]
and Baiame.[931] But we also find Nuralie or Nurelle,[932] Kohin[933]
and Mangan-ngaua.[934] The same conception is found again
farther west, among the Narrinyeri, where the great god is called
Nurunderi or Ngurrunderi.[935] Among the Dieri, it is probable
that there is one of the Mura-mura, or ordinary ancestors, who
enjoys a sort of supremacy over the others.[936] Finally, in opposition
to the affirmations of Spencer and Gillen, who declare
that they have observed no belief in a real divinity among the
Arunta,[937] Strehlow assures us that this people, as well as the
Loritja, recognize, under the name Altjira, a veritable "good
god."[938]
The essential characteristics of this personage are the same
everywhere. It is an immortal, and even an eternal being,
for it was not derived from any other. After having lived on
earth for a certain length of time, he ascended to heaven, or
else was taken up there,[939] and continues to live there, surrounded
by his family, for generally he is said to have one or several wives,
children and brothers,[940] who sometimes assist him in his functions.
Under the pretext of a visit he is said to have made to them,
he and his family are frequently identified with certain stars.[941]
Moreover, they attribute to him a power over stars. It is he
who regulates the journey of the sun and moon;[942] he gives them
orders.[943] It is he who makes the lightning leap from the clouds
and who throws the thunder-bolts.[944] Since he is the thunder,
he is also connected with the rain:[945] it is to him that men address
themselves when there is a scarcity of water, or when too much
falls.[946]
They speak of him as a sort of creator: he is called the father
of men and they say that he made them. According to a legend
current around Melbourne, Bunjil made the first man in the
following manner. He made a little statue out of white clay;
then, after he had danced all around it several times and had
breathed into its nostrils, the statue became animated and
commenced to walk about.[947] According to another myth, he
lighted the sun; thus the earth became heated and men came
out of it.[948] At the same time that he made men,[949] this divine
personage made the animals and trees;[950] it is to him that
men owe all the arts of life, arms, language and tribal rites.[951]
He is the benefactor of humanity. Even yet, he plays the rôle
of a sort of providence for them. It is he who supplies his worshippers
with all that is necessary for their existence.[952] He is
in communication with them, either directly or through intermediaries.[953]
But being at the same time guardian of the morals
of the tribe, he treats them severely when these are violated.[954]
If we are to believe certain observers, he will even fulfil the
office of judge, after this life; he will separate the good from
the bad, and will not reward the ones like the others.[955] In any
case, they are often represented as ruling the land of the dead,[956]
and as gathering the souls together when they arrive in the
beyond.[957]
As the initiation is the principal form of the tribal cult, it is
to the rites of initiation that he is attached especially; he is
their centre. He is very frequently represented by an image
cut on a piece of bark or soaked into the ground. They dance
around it; they sing in its honour; they even address real
prayers to it.[958] They explain to the young men who the personage
is whom this image represents; they tell them his secret name,
which the women and the uninitiated cannot know; they relate
to them his history and the part attributed to him in the life of
the tribe. At other times they raise their hands towards the
heaven where he is thought to dwell, or else they point their
arms or the ritual instruments they have in hand in this direction;[959]
this is a way of entering into communication with him. They
feel his presence everywhere. He watches over the neophyte
when he has withdrawn into the forest.[960] He is attentive to the
manner in which the ceremonies are celebrated. The initiation
is his cult. So he gives special attention to seeing that these
are carried out exactly: if there are any faults or negligences,
he punishes them in a terrible manner.[961]
Moreover, the authority of each of these supreme gods is not
limited to a single tribe; it is recognized equally by a number
of neighbouring tribes. Bunjil is adored in nearly all of Victoria,
Baiame in a considerable portion of New South Wales, etc.;
this is why there are so few gods for a relatively extended
geographical area. So the cults of which they are the object have
an international character. It even happens sometimes that
mythologies intermingle, combine and make mutual borrowings.
Thus the majority of the tribes who believe in Baiame also admit
the existence of Daramulun; however, they accord him a slighter
dignity. They make him a son or brother of Baiame, and subordinate
to this latter.[962] Thus the faith in Daramulun has spread
in diverse forms, into all of New South Wales. So it is far from
true that religious internationalism is a peculiarity of the most
recent and advanced religions. From the dawn of history,
religious beliefs have manifested a tendency to overflow out of
one strictly limited political society; it is as though they had
a natural aptitude for crossing frontiers, and for diffusing and
internationalizing themselves. Of course there have been
peoples and times when this spontaneous aptitude has been held
in check by opposed social necessities; but that does not keep
it from being real and, as we see, very primitive.
To Tylor this conception has appeared to be a part of so
elevated a theology that he refuses to see in it anything but the
product of a European importation: he would have it be a more
or less denatured Christian idea.[963] Andrew Lang, on the contrary,
considers them autochthonous;[964] but as he also admits that it
is contrasted with all the other Australian beliefs and rests on
completely different principles, he concludes that the religions
of Australia are made up of two heterogeneous systems, superimposed
one upon the other, and consequently derived from a
double origin. On the one hand, there were ideas relative to
totems and spirits, which had been suggested to men by the
sight of certain natural phenomena. But at the same time, by
a sort of intuition as to the nature of which he refuses to make
himself clear,[965] the human intelligence succeeded at the first
onset in conceiving a unique god, creator of the world and
legislator of the moral order. Lang even estimates that this
idea was purer of foreign elements at the beginning, and especially
in Australia, than in the civilizations which immediately followed.
With time, it was covered over and obscured little by little by the
ever-growing mass of animistic and totemic superstitions. Thus
it underwent a sort of progressive degeneration up to the day
when, as the effect of a privileged culture, it succeeded in coming
into its own and restated itself again with more force and clarity
than it had in the first place.[966]
But the facts allow neither the sceptical hypothesis of Tylor
nor the theological interpretation of Lang.
In the first place, it is certain to-day that the ideas relative
to the great tribal god are of indigenous origin. They were
observed before the influence of the missionaries had as yet
had time to make itself felt.[967] But it does not follow that it is
necessary to attribute them to a mysterious revelation. Far
from being derived from a different source than the regular
totemic beliefs, they are, on the contrary, only the logical working-out
of these beliefs and their highest form.
We have already seen how the notion of mythical ancestors
is implied in the very principles upon which totemism rests,
for each of them is a totemic being. Now, though the great gods
are certainly superior to these, still, there are only differences
of degree between them; we pass from the first to the second
with no break of continuity. In fact, a great god is himself an
ancestor of especial importance. They frequently speak to us
about him as though he were a man, endowed, to be sure, with
more than human powers, but one who lived a human life upon
the earth.[968] He is pictured as a great hunter,[969] a powerful magician,[970]
or the founder of the tribe.[971] He was the first man.[972] One legend
even represents him in the form of a worn-out old man who
could hardly move about.[973] If a supreme god named Mura-mura
has existed among the Dieri, the very word is significant, for it
serves to designate the class of the ancestors. Likewise, Nuralie,
the name of a great god among the tribes on the Murray River,
is sometimes used as a collective expression which is applied to
the group of mythical beings whom tradition places at the origin
of things.[974] They are personages wholly comparable to those
of the Alcheringa.[975] In Queensland, we have already met with
a god Anjea or Anjir, who made men but who seems, nevertheless,
to be only the first man.[976]
A fact that has aided Australian thought to pass from the
numerous ancestral geniuses to the idea of the tribal god is that
between the two extremes a middle term has been inserted,
which has served as a transition: these are the civilizing heroes.
The fabulous beings whom we call by this name are really simple
ancestors to whom mythology has attributed an eminent place
in the history of the tribe, and whom it has, for this reason, set
above the others. We have even seen that they ordinarily form
a part of the totemic organization: Mangarkunjerkunja belongs
to the Lizard totem and Putiaputia to the Wild Cat totem.
But on the other hand, the functions which they are believed
to fulfil, or to have fulfilled, are closely similar to those incumbent
upon a great god. He, too, is believed to have introduced the
arts of civilization among men, to have been the founder of the
principal social institutions and the revealer of the great religious
ceremonies which still remain under his control. If he is the
father of men, it is because he manufactured them rather than
begat them: but Mangarkunjerkunja also made them. Before
his time, there were no men, but only unformed masses of flesh,
in which the different members and even the different individuals
were not yet separated from one another. It was he who cut
up this original matter and made real human beings out of it.[977]
Between this mode of fabrication and the one the myth we
have spoken of attributes to Bunjil, there are only shades of
difference. Moreover, the bonds uniting these two sorts of
figures to each other are well shown by the fact that a relationship
of descent is sometimes established between them. Among
the Kurnai, the hero of the bull-roarer, Tundun, is the son of
the great god Mungan-ngaua.[978] Likewise, among the Euahlayi,
Daramulun, the son or brother of Baiame, is identical with
Gayandi who is the equivalent of the Tundun of the Kurnai.[979]
Of course it is not necessary to conclude from these facts that
the great god is nothing more than a civilizing hero. There are
cases where these two personages are carefully differentiated.
But if they are not confounded, they are at least relatives.
So it sometimes happens that we find it hard to distinguish
them; there are some who could be classified equally well in
one category or the other. Thus, we have spoken of Atnatu
as a civilizing hero; but he comes very near to being a great
god.
The notion of a supreme god even depends so closely upon
the entire system of the totemic beliefs that it still bears their
mark. Tundun is a divine hero, as we have just seen, who is
very close to the tribal divinity; now among the Kurnai, the
same word means totem.[980] Similarly, among the Arunta, Altjira
is the name of a great god; it is also the name of the maternal
totem.[981] But there is more to be said than this; many great
gods have an obviously totemic aspect. Daramulun is an eagle-hawk;[982]
his mother, an emu.[983] It is also under the features of
an emu that Baiame is represented.[984] The Altjira of the Arunta
has the legs of an emu.[985] Before being the name of a great god,
Nuralie designated, as we just saw, the ancestor-founders of
the tribe; now some of these were crows, the others hawks.[986]
According to Howitt,[987] Bunjil is always represented in a human
form; however, the same word serves to designate the totem
of a phratry, the eagle-hawk. At least one of his sons is among
the totems included in the phratry to which he has given, or from
which he has taken his name.[988] His brother is Pallyan, the
bat; now this latter serves as sexual totem for the men in
many tribes in Victoria.[989]
We can even go farther and state more definitely the connection
which these great gods have with the totemic system.
We have just seen that Bunjil is the totem of a phratry. Daramulun,
like Bunjil, is an eagle-hawk, and we know that this bird
is the totem of phratries in a large number of south-eastern
tribes.[990] We have already pointed out that Nuralie seems to
have originally been a collective term designating indistinctly
either eagle-hawks or crows; now in the tribes where this myth
has been observed, the crow is the totem of one of the two phratries,
the eagle-hawk, that of the other.[991] Also, the legendary
history of the great gods resembles that of the totems of the
phratries very closely. The myths, and sometimes the rites,
commemorate the struggles which each of these divinities fought
against a carnivorous bird, over which it triumphed only with
the greatest difficulty. Bunjil, the first man, after making the
second man, Karween, entered into a conflict with him, and in
the course of a sort of duel, he wounded him severely and changed
him into a crow.[992] The two species of Nurtalie are represented
as two hostile groups which were originally in a constant state
of war.[993] Baiame, on his side, had to fight against Mullian, the
cannibal eagle-hawk, who, by the way, is identical with Daramulun.[994]
Now, as we have seen, there is also a sort of constitutional
hostility between the totems of the phratries. This
parallelism completes the proof that the mythology of the great
gods and that of these totems are closely related. This relationship
will appear still more evident if we notice that the rival of
the god is regularly either a crow or an eagle-hawk, and that
these are quite generally the totems of the phratries.[995]
So Baiame, Daramulun, Nuralie and Bunjil seem to be phratry-totems
who have been deified; and we may imagine that this
apotheosis took place as follows. It is obviously in the assemblies
which take place in regard to the initiation that the conception
was elaborated, for the great gods do not play a rôle of any
importance except in these rites, and are strangers to the other
religious ceremonies. Moreover, as the initiation is the principal
form of the tribal cult, it is only on this occasion that a tribal
mythology could arise. We have already seen how the rituals
of circumcision and subincision spontaneously tend to personify
themselves under the form of civilizing heroes. However, these
heroes exercised no supremacy; they were on the same footing
as the other legendary benefactors of society. But wherever
the tribe acquired a livelier sentiment of itself, this sentiment
naturally incarnated itself in some personage, who became
its symbol. In order to account for the bonds uniting them to
one another, no matter what clan they belonged to, men imagined
that they were all descended from the same stock and that they
were all descended from a single father, to whom they owe their
existence, though he owed his to no one. The god of the initiation
was predestined to this rôle, for, according to an expression
frequently coming to the lips of the natives, the object of the
initiation is to make or manufacture men. So they attributed
a creative power to this god, and for all these reasons, he found
himself invested with a prestige setting him well above the
other heroes of the mythology. These others became his auxiliaries,
subordinate to him; they were made his sons or younger
brothers, as was the case with Tundun, Gayandi, Karween,
Pallyan, etc. But other sacred beings already existed, who
occupied an equally eminent place in the religious system of
the clan: these were the totems of the phratries. Wherever
these are maintained, they are believed to keep the totems
of the clans dependent upon them. Thus they had all that was
necessary for becoming tribal divinities themselves. So it was
only natural that a partial confusion should arise between these
two sorts of mythical beings; it is thus that one of the two
fundamental totems of the tribe gave his traits to the great god.
But as it was necessary to explain why only one of them was
called to this dignity and the other excluded, they supposed
that this latter, in the course of a fight against his rival, was
vanquished and that his exclusion was the consequence of his
defeat. This theory was the more readily admitted because it
was in accord with the rest of the mythology, where the totems
of the phratries are generally considered enemies of one another.
A myth observed by Mrs. Parker among the Euahlayi[996] may
serve to confirm this explanation, for it merely translates it
into figurative language. It is related that in this tribe, the
totems were only the names given to the different parts of
Baiame's body at first. So the clans were, in a sense, the fragments
of the divine body. Now is this not just another way of
saying that the great god is the synthesis of all the totems and
consequently the personification of the tribal unity?
But at the same time, it takes an international character.
In fact, the members of the tribe to which the young initiates
belong are not the only ones who assist at the ceremonies of
initiation; representatives from the neighbouring tribes are
specially summoned to these celebrations, which thus become
sorts of international fairs, at once religious and laical.[997] Beliefs
elaborated in social environments thus constituted could not
remain the exclusive patrimony of any special nationality.
The stranger to whom they are revealed carries them back to
his own tribe when he returns home; and as, sooner or later,
he is forced to invite his former hosts, there is a continual exchange
of ideas from tribe to tribe. It is thus that an international
mythology was established, of which the great god was quite
naturally the essential element, for it had its origin in the rites
of initiation which it is his function to personify. So his name
passed from one language to another, along with the representations
which were attached to it. The fact that the names of the
phratries are generally the same in very different tribes could
not fail to facilitate this diffusion. The internationalism of the
totems opened the way for that of the great god.
We thus reach the highest conception to which totemism
has arrived. This is the point where it touches and prepares
the religions which are to follow, and aids us in understanding
them. But at the same time, we are able to see that this culminating
idea is united without any interruption to the crudest
beliefs which we analysed to start with.
In fact, the great tribal god is only an ancestral spirit who
finally won a pre-eminent place. The ancestral spirits are only
entities forged in the image of the individual souls whose origin
they are destined to explain. The souls, in their turn, are only
the form taken by the impersonal forces which we found at the
basis of totemism, as they individualize themselves in the human
body. The unity of the system is as great as its complexity.
In this work of elaboration, the idea of the soul has undoubtedly
played an important part: it is through it that the idea of
personality has been introduced into the domain of religion.
But it is not true that, as the theorists of animism maintain,
it contains the germ of the whole religion. First of all, it presupposes
the notion of mana or the totemic principle of which
it is only a special form. Then, if the spirits and gods could
not be conceived before the soul, they are, nevertheless, more
than mere human souls, liberated by death; else whence would
come their supernatural powers? The idea of the soul has
merely served to direct the mythological imagination in a new
way and to suggest to it constructions of a new sort. But the
matter for these conceptions has been taken, not from the
representation of the soul, but from this reservoir of the anonymous
and diffused forces which constitute the original foundation
of religions. The creation of mythical personalities has only
been another way of thinking of these essential forces.
As for the notion of the great god, it is due entirely to the
sentiment whose action we have already observed in the genesis
of the most specifically totemic beliefs: this is the tribal sentiment.
In fact, we have seen that totemism was not the work of
isolated clans, but that it was always elaborated in the body of
a tribe which was to some degree conscious of its unity. It is
for this reason that the different cults peculiar to each clan
mutually touch and complete each other in such a way as to
form a unified whole.[998] Now it is this same sentiment of a tribal
unity which is expressed in the conception of a supreme god,
common to the tribe as a whole. So they are quite the same
causes which are active at the bottom and at the top of this
religious system.
However, up to the present, we have considered the religious
representations as if they were self-sufficient and could be explained
by themselves. But in reality, they are inseparable
from the rites, not only because they manifest themselves there,
but also because they, in their turn, feel the influence of these.
Of course the cult depends upon the beliefs, but it also reacts
upon them. So in order to understand them better, it is important
to understand it better. The moment has come for
undertaking its study.