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    The Mental Condition Of Savages--Confusion With Nature--Totemism

    The mental condition of savages the basis of the irrational element
    in myth--Characteristics of that condition: (1) Confusion of all
    things in an equality of presumed animation and intelligence;
    (2) Belief in sorcery; (3) Spiritualism; (4) Curiosity; (5) Easy
    credulity and mental indolence--The curiosity is satisfied, thanks
    to the credulity, by myths in answer to all inquiries--Evidence for
    this--Mr. Tylor's opinion--Mr. Im Thurn--Jesuit missionaries'
    Relations--Examples of confusion between men, plants, beasts and
    other natural objects--Reports of travellers--Evidence from
    institution of totemism--Definition of totemism--Totemism in
    Australia, Africa, America, the Oceanic Islands, India, North Asia--
    Conclusions: Totemism being found so widely distributed, is a proof
    of the existence of that savage mental condition in which no line
    is drawn between men and the other things in the world. This
    confusion is one of the characteristics of myth in all races.


    We set out to discover a stage of human intellectual development
    which would necessarily produce the essential elements of myth. We
    think we have found that stage in the condition of savagery. We
    now proceed to array the evidence for the mental processes of
    savages. We intend to demonstrate the existence in practical
    savage life of the ideas which most surprise us when we find them
    in civilised sacred legends.

    For the purposes of this inquiry, it is enough to select a few
    special peculiarities of savage thought.

    1. First we have that nebulous and confused frame of mind to which
    all things, animate or inanimate, human, animal, vegetable, or
    inorganic, seem on the same level of life, passion and reason. The
    savage, at all events when myth-making, draws no hard and fast line
    between himself and the things in the world. He regards himself as
    literally akin to animals and plants and heavenly bodies; he
    attributes sex and procreative powers even to stones and rocks, and
    he assigns human speech and human feelings to sun and moon and
    stars and wind, no less than to beasts, birds and fishes.[1]


    [1] "So fasst auch das Alterthum ihren Unterschied von den Menschen
    ganz anders als die spatere Zeit."--Grimm, quoted by Liebrecht, Zur
    Volkskunde, p. 17.


    2. The second point to note in savage opinion is the belief in
    magic and sorcery. The world and all the things in it being
    vaguely conceived of as sensible and rational, obey the commands of
    certain members of the tribe, chiefs, jugglers, conjurors, or what
    you will. Rocks open at their order, rivers dry up, animals are
    their servants and hold converse with them. These magicians cause
    or heal diseases, and can command even the weather, bringing rain
    or thunder or sunshine at their will.[1] There are few
    supernatural attributes of "cloud-compelling Zeus" or of Apollo
    that are not freely assigned to the tribal conjuror. By virtue,
    doubtless, of the community of nature between man and the things in
    the world, the conjuror (like Zeus or Indra) can assume at will the
    shape of any animal, or can metamorphose his neighbours or enemies
    into animal forms.


    [1] See Roth in North-West Central Queensland Aborigines, chapter
    xii., 1897.


    3. Another peculiarity of savage belief naturally connects itself
    with that which has just been described. The savage has very
    strong ideas about the persistent existence of the souls of the
    dead. They retain much of their old nature, but are often more
    malignant after death than they had been during life. They are
    frequently at the beck and call of the conjuror, whom they aid with
    their advice and with their magical power. By virtue of the close
    connection already spoken of between man and the animals, the souls
    of the dead are not rarely supposed to migrate into the bodies of
    beasts, or to revert to the condition of that species of creatures
    with which each tribe supposes itself to be related by ties of
    kinship or friendship. With the usual inconsistency of mythical
    belief, the souls of the dead are spoken of, at other times, as if
    they inhabited a spiritual world, sometimes a paradise of flowers,
    sometimes a gloomy place, which mortal men may visit, but whence no
    one can escape who has tasted of the food of the ghosts.

    4. In connection with spirits a far-reaching savage philosophy
    prevails. It is not unusual to assign a ghost to all objects,
    animate or inanimate, and the spirit or strength of a man is
    frequently regarded as something separable, capable of being
    located in an external object, or something with a definite
    locality in the body. A man's strength and spirit may reside in
    his kidney fat, in his heart, in a lock of his hair, or may even be
    stored by him in some separate receptacle. Very frequently a man
    is held capable of detaching his soul from his body, and letting it
    roam about on his business, sometimes in the form of a bird or
    other animal.

    5. Many minor savage beliefs might be named, such as the common
    faith in friendly or protecting animals, and the notion that
    "natural deaths" (as we call them) are always UNNATURAL, that death
    is always caused by some hostile spirit or conjuror. From this
    opinion comes the myth that man is naturally not subject to death:
    that death was somehow introduced into the world by a mistake or
    misdeed is a corollary. (See "Myths of the Origin of Death" in
    Modern Mythology.)

    6. One more mental peculiarity of the savage mind remains to be
    considered in this brief summary. The savage, like the civilised
    man, is curious. The first faint impulses of the scientific spirit
    are at work in his brain; he is anxious to give himself an account
    of the world in which he finds himself. But he is not more curious
    than he is, on occasion, credulous. His intellect is eager to ask
    questions, as is the habit of children, but his intellect is also
    lazy, and he is content with the first answer that comes to hand.
    "Ils s'arretent aux premieres notions qu'ils en ont," says Pere
    Hierome Lalemant.[1] "Nothing," says Schoolcraft, "is too
    capacious (sic) for Indian belief."[2] The replies to his
    questions he receives from tradition or (when a new problem arises)
    evolves an answer for himself in the shape of STORIES. Just as
    Socrates, in the Platonic dialogues, recalls or invents a myth in
    the despair of reason, so the savage has a story for answer to
    almost every question that he can ask himself. These stories are
    in a sense scientific, because they attempt a solution of the
    riddles of the world. They are in a sense religious, because there
    is usually a supernatural power, a deus ex machina, of some sort to
    cut the knot of the problem. Such stories, then, are the science,
    and to a certain extent the religious tradition, of savages.[3]


    [1] Relations de la Nouvelle France, 1648, p. 70.

    [2] Algic Researches, i. 41.

    [3] "The Indians (Algonkins) conveyed instruction--moral,
    mechanical and religious--through traditionary fictions and
    tales."--Schoolcraft, Algic Researches, i. 12.


    Now these tales are necessarily cast in the mould of the savage
    ideas of which a sketch has been given. The changes of the
    heavenly bodies, the processes of day and night, the existence of
    the stars, the invention of the arts, the origin of the world (as
    far as known to the savage), of the tribe, of the various animals
    and plants, the origin of death itself, the origin of the
    perplexing traditional tribal customs, are all accounted for in
    stories. At the same time, an actual divine Maker is sometimes
    postulated. The stories, again, are fashioned in accordance with
    the beliefs already named: the belief in human connection with and
    kinship with beasts and plants; the belief in magic; the belief in
    the perpetual possibility of metamorphosis or "shape shifting"; the
    belief in the permanence and power of the ghosts of the dead; the
    belief in the personal and animated character of all the things in
    the world, and so forth.

    No more need be said to explain the wild and (as it seems to us
    moderns) the irrational character of savage myth. It is a jungle
    of foolish fancies, a walpurgis nacht of gods and beasts and men
    and stars and ghosts, all moving madly on a level of common
    personality and animation, and all changing shapes at random, as
    partners are changed in some fantastic witches' revel. Such is
    savage mythology, and how could it be otherwise when we consider
    the elements of thought and belief out of which it is mainly
    composed? We shall see that part of the mythology of the Greeks or
    the Aryans of India is but a similar walpurgis nacht, in which an
    incestuous or amorous god may become a beast, and the object of his
    pursuit, once a woman, may also become a beast, and then shift
    shapes to a tree or a bird or a star. But in the civilised races
    the genius of the people tends to suppress, exclude and refine away
    the wild element, which, however, is never wholly eliminated. The
    Erinyes soon stop the mouth of the horse of Achilles when he
    begins, like the horse in Grimm's Goose Girl, to hold a sustained
    conversation.[1] But the ancient, cruel, and grotesque savage
    element, nearly overcome by Homer and greatly reduced by the Vedic
    poets, breaks out again in Hesiod, in temple legends and Brahmanic
    glosses, and finally proves so strong that it can only be subdued
    by Christianity, or rather by that break between the educated
    classes and the traditional past of religion which has resulted
    from Christianity. Even so, myth lingers in the folk-lore of the
    non-progressive classes of Europe, and, as in Roumania, invades
    religion.


    [1] Iliad, xix. 418.


    We have now to demonstrate the existence in the savage intellect of
    the various ideas and habits which we have described, and out of
    which mythology springs. First, we have to show that "a nebulous
    and confused state of mind, to which all things, animate or
    inanimate, human, animal, vegetable or inorganic, seem on the same
    level of life, passion and reason," does really exist.[1] The
    existence of this condition of the intellect will be demonstrated
    first on the evidence of the statements of civilised observers,
    next on the evidence of the savage institutions in which it is
    embodied.


    [1] Creuzer and Guigniaut, vol. i. p. 111.


    The opinion of Mr. Tylor is naturally of great value, as it is
    formed on as wide an acquaintance with the views of the lower races
    as any inquirers can hope to possess. Mr. Tylor observes: "We have
    to inform ourselves of the savage man's idea, which is very different
    from the civilised man's, of the nature of the lower animals. . . .
    The sense of an absolute psychical distinction between man and
    beast, so prevalent in the civilised world, is hardly to be found
    among the lower races."[1] The universal attribution of "souls" to
    all things--the theory known as "Animism"--is another proof that the
    savage draws no hard and fast line between man and the other things
    in the world. The notion of the Italian country-people, that
    cruelty to an animal does not matter because it is not a "Christian,"
    has no parallel in the philosophy of the savage, to whom all objects
    seem to have souls, just as men have. Mr. Im Thurn found the
    absence of any sense of a difference between man and nature a
    characteristic of his native companions in Guiana. "The very
    phrase, 'Men and other animals,' or even, as it is often expressed,
    'Men and animals,' based as it is on the superiority which civilised
    man feels over other animals, expresses a dichotomy which is in no
    way recognised by the Indian. . . . It is therefore most important
    to realise how comparatively small really is the difference between
    men in a state of savagery and other animals, and how completely
    even such difference as exists escapes the notice of savage men. . .
    It is not, therefore, too much to say that, according to the view
    of the Indians, other animals differ from men only in bodily form
    and in their various degrees of strength; in spirit they do not
    differ at all."[2] The Indian's notion of the life of plants and
    stones is on the same level of unreason, as we moderns reckon
    reason. He believes in the spirits of rocks and stones, undeterred
    by the absence of motion in these objects. "Not only many rocks,
    but also many waterfalls, streams, and indeed material objects of
    every sort, are supposed each to consist of a body and a spirit, as
    does man."[3] It is not our business to ask here how men came by
    the belief in universal animation. That belief is gradually
    withdrawn, distinctions are gradually introduced, as civilisation
    and knowledge advance. It is enough for us if the failure to draw a
    hard and fast line between man and beasts, stones and plants, be
    practically universal among savages, and if it gradually disappears
    before the fuller knowledge of civilisation. The report which Mr.
    Im Thurn brings from the Indians of Guiana is confirmed by what
    Schoolcraft says of the Algonkin races of the northern part of the
    continent. "The belief of the narrators and listeners in every wild
    and improbable thing told helps wonderfully in the original stories,
    in joining all parts together. The Indian believes that the whole
    visible and invisible creation is animated. . . . To make the
    matter worse, these tribes believe that animals of the lowest as
    well as highest class in the chain of creation are alike endowed
    with reasoning powers and faculties. As a natural conclusion they
    endow birds, beasts and all other animals with souls."[4] As an
    example of the ease with which the savage recognises consciousness
    and voluntary motion even in stones, may be cited Kohl's account of
    the beliefs of the Objibeways.[5] Nearly every Indian has
    discovered, he says, an object in which he places special
    confidence, and to which he sacrifices more zealously than to the
    Great Spirit. The "hope" of Otamigan (a companion of the traveller)
    was a rock, which once advanced to meet him, swayed, bowed and went
    back again. Another Indian revered a Canadian larch, "because he
    once heard a very remarkable rustling in its branches". It thus
    appears that while the savage has a general kind of sense that
    inanimate things are animated, he is a good deal impressed by their
    conduct when he thinks that they actually display their animation.
    In the same way a devout modern spiritualist probably regards with
    more reverence a table which he has seen dancing and heard rapping
    than a table at which he has only dined. Another general statement
    of failure to draw the line between men and the irrational creation
    is found in the old Jesuit missionary Le Jeune's Relations de la
    Nouvelle France.[6] "Les sauvages se persuadent que non seulement
    les hommes et les autres animaux, mais aussi que toutes les autres
    choses sont animees." Again: "Ils tiennent les poissons
    raisonnables, comme aussi les cerfs". In the Solomon Islands, Mr.
    Romilly sailed with an old chief who used violent language to the
    waves when they threatened to dash over the boat, and "old Takki's
    exhortations were successful".[7] Waitz[8] discovers the same
    attitude towards the animals among the negroes. Man, in their
    opinion, is by no means a separate sort of person on the summit of
    nature and high above the beasts; these he rather regards as dark
    and enigmatic beings, whose life is full of mystery, and which he
    therefore considers now as his inferiors, now as his superiors. A
    collection of evidence as to the savage failure to discriminate
    between human and non-human, animate and inanimate, has been brought
    together by Sir John Lubbock.[9]


    [1] Primitive Culture, i. 167-169.

    [2] Among the Indians of Guiana (1883), p. 350.

    [3] Op. Cit., 355.

    [4] Schoolcraft, Algic Researches, i. 41.

    [5] Kohl, Wanderings Round Lake Superior, pp. 58, 59; Muller,
    Amerikan Urrelig., pp. 62-67.

    [6] 1636, p. 109.

    [7] Western Pacific, p. 84.

    [8] Anthropologie der Natur-Volker, ii. 177.

    [9] Origin of Civilisation, p. 33. A number of examples of this
    mental attitude among the Bushmen will be found in chap. v.,
    postea.


    To a race accustomed like ourselves to arrange and classify, to
    people familiar from childhood and its games with "vegetable,
    animal and mineral," a condition of mind in which no such
    distinctions are drawn, any more than they are drawn in Greek or
    Brahmanic myths, must naturally seem like what Mr. Max Muller calls
    "temporary insanity". The imagination of the savage has been
    defined by Mr. Tylor as "midway between the conditions of a
    healthy, prosaic, modern citizen, and of a raving fanatic, or of a
    patient in a fever-ward". If any relics of such imagination
    survive in civilised mythology, they will very closely resemble the
    productions of a once universal "temporary insanity". Let it be
    granted, then, that "to the lower tribes of man, sun and stars,
    trees and rivers, winds and clouds, become personal, animate
    creatures, leading lives conformed to human or animal analogies,
    and performing their special functions in the universe with the aid
    of limbs like beasts, or of artificial instruments like men; or
    that what men's eyes behold is but the instrument to be used or the
    material to be shaped, while behind it there stands some prodigious
    but yet half-human creature, who grasps it with his hands or blows
    it with his breath. The basis on which such ideas as these are
    built is not to be narrowed down to poetic fancy and transformed
    metaphor. They rest upon a broad philosophy of nature; early and
    crude, indeed, but thoughtful, consistent, and quite really and
    seriously meant."[1]


    [1] Primtive Culture, i. 285.


    For the sake of illustration, some minor examples must next be
    given of this confusion between man and other things in the world,
    which will presently be illustrated by the testimony of a powerful
    and long diffused set of institutions.

    The Christian Quiches of Guatemala believe that each of them has a
    beast as his friend and protector, just as in the Highlands "the
    dog is the friend of the Maclaines". When the Finns, in their epic
    poem the Kalewala, have killed a bear, they implore the animal to
    forgive them. "Oh, Ot-so," chant the singers, "be not angry that
    we come near thee. The bear, the honey-footed bear, was born in
    lands between sun and moon, and he died, not by men's hands, but of
    his own will."[1] The Red Men of North America[2] have a tradition
    showing how it is that the bear does not die, but, like Herodotus
    with the sacred stories of the Egyptian priests, Mr. Schoolcraft
    "cannot induce himself to write it out".[3] It is a most curious
    fact that the natives of Australia tell a similar tale of THEIR
    "native bear". "He did not die" when attacked by men.[4] In parts
    of Australia it is a great offence to skin the native bear, just as
    on a part of the west coast of Ireland, where seals are
    superstitiously regarded, the people cannot be bribed to skin them.
    In New Caledonia, when a child tries to kill a lizard, the men warn
    him to "beware of killing his own ancestor".[5] The Zulus spare to
    destroy a certain species of serpents, believed to be the spirits
    of kinsmen, as the great snake which appeared when Aeneas did
    sacrifice was held to be the ghost of Anchises. Mexican women[6]
    believed that children born during an eclipse turn into mice. In
    Australia the natives believe that the wild dog has the power of
    speech; whoever listens to him is petrified; and a certain spot is
    shown where "the wild dog spoke and turned the men into stone";[7]
    and the blacks run for their lives as soon as the dog begins to
    speak. What it said was "Bones".


    [1] Kalewala, in La Finlande, Leouzon Le Duc (1845), vol. ii. p.
    100; cf. also the Introduction.

    [2] Schoolcraft, v. 420.

    [3] See similar ceremonies propitiatory of the bear in Jewett's
    Adventures among the Nootkas, Edinburgh, 1824.

    [4] Brough Smyth, i. 449.

    [5] J. J. Atkinson's MS.

    [6] Sahagun, ii. viii. 250; Bancroft, iii. 111. Compare stories of
    women who give birth to animals in Melusine, 1886, August-November.
    The Batavians believe that women, when delivered of a child, are
    frequently delivered at the same time of a young crocodile as a
    twin. Hawkesworth's Voyages, iii. 756. Liebrecht, Zur Volkskunde,
    p. 17 et seq.

    [7] Brough Smyth, Aborigines of Victoria, i. 497.


    These are minor examples of a form of opinion which is so strong
    that it is actually the chief constituent in savage society. That
    society, whether in Ashantee or Australia, in North America or
    South Africa, or North Asia or India, or among the wilder tribes of
    ancient Peru, is based on an institution generally called
    "totemism". This very extraordinary institution, whatever its
    origin, cannot have arisen except among men capable of conceiving
    kinship and all human relationships as existing between themselves
    and all animate and inanimate things. It is the rule, and not the
    exception, that savage societies are founded upon this belief. The
    political and social conduct of the backward races is regulated in
    such matters as blood-feud and marriage by theories of the actual
    kindred and connection by descent, or by old friendship, which men
    have in common with beasts, plants, the sun and moon, the stars,
    and even the wind and the rain. Now, in whatever way this belief
    in such relations to beasts and plants may have arisen, it
    undoubtedly testifies to a condition of mind in which no hard and
    fast line was drawn between man and animate and inanimate nature.
    The discovery of the wide distribution of the social arrangements
    based on this belief is entirely due to Mr. J. F. M'Lennan, the
    author of Primitive Marriage. Mr. M'Lennan's essays ("The Worship
    of Plants and Animals," "Totems and Totemism") were published in
    the Fortnightly Review, 1869-71. Any follower in the footsteps of
    Mr. M'Lennan has it in his power to add a little evidence to that
    originally set forth, and perhaps to sift the somewhat uncritical
    authorities adduced.[1]


    [1] See also Mr. Frazer's Totemism, and Golden Bough, with chapter
    on Totemism in Modern Mythology.


    The name "Totemism" or "Totamism" was first applied at the end of
    the last century by Long[1] to the Red Indian custom which
    acknowledges human kinship with animals. This institution had
    already been recognised among the Iroquois by Lafitau,[2] and by
    other observers. As to the word "totem," Mr. Max Muller[3] quotes
    an opinion that the interpreters, missionaries, Government
    inspectors, and others who apply the name totem to the Indian
    "family mark" must have been ignorant of the Indian languages, for
    there is in them no such word as totem. The right word, it
    appears, is otem; but as "totemism" has the advantage of possessing
    the ground, we prefer to say "totemism" rather than "otemism". The
    facts are the same, whatever name we give them. As Mr. Muller says
    himself,[4] "every warrior has his crest, which is called his
    totem";[5] and he goes on to describe a totem of an Indian who died
    about 1793. We may now return to the consideration of "otemism" or
    totemism. We approach it rather as a fact in the science of
    mythology than as a stage in the evolution of the modern family
    system. For us totemism is interesting because it proves the
    existence of that savage mental attitude which assumes kindred and
    alliance between man and the things in the world. As will
    afterwards be seen, totemism has also left its mark on the
    mythologies of the civilised races. We shall examine the
    institution first as it is found in Australia, because the
    Australian form of totemism shows in the highest known degree the
    savage habit of confusing in a community of kinship men, stars,
    plants, beasts, the heavenly bodies, and the forces of Nature. When
    this has once been elucidated, a shorter notice of other totemistic
    races will serve our purpose.


    [1] Voyages and Travels, 1791.

    [2] Moeurs des Sauvages (1724), p. 461.

    [3] Academy, December 15, 1883.

    [4] Selected Essays (1881), ii. 376.

    [5] Compare Mr. Max Muller's Contributions to the Science of
    Mythology.


    The society of the Murri or black fellows of Australia is divided
    into local tribes, each of which possesses, or used to possess, and
    hunt over a considerable tract of country. These local tribes are
    united by contiguity, and by common local interests, but not
    necessarily by blood kinship. For example, the Port Mackay tribe,
    the Mount Gambier tribe, the Ballarat tribe, all take their names
    from their district. In the same way we might speak of the people
    of Strathclyde or of Northumbria in early English history. Now,
    all these local tribes contain an indefinite number of stocks of
    kindred, of men believing themselves to be related by the ties of
    blood and common descent. That descent the groups agree in
    tracing, not from some real or idealised human parent, but from
    some animal, plant, or other natural object, as the kangaroo, the
    emu, the iguana, the pelican, and so forth. Persons of the pelican
    stock in the north of Queensland regard themselves as relations of
    people of the same stock in the most southern parts of Australia.
    The creature from which each tribe claims descent is called "of the
    same flesh," while persons of another stock are "fresh flesh". A
    native may not marry a woman of "his own flesh"; it is only a woman
    of "fresh" or "strange" flesh he may marry. A man may not eat an
    animal of "his own flesh"; he may only eat "strange flesh". Only
    under great stress of need will an Australian eat the animal which
    is the flesh-and-blood cousin and protector of his stock.[1]
    (These rules of marriage and blood, however, do not apply among the
    Arunta of Central Australia, whose Totems (if Totems they should be
    called) have been developed on very different lines.[2]) Clearer
    evidence of the confusion between man and beast, of the claiming of
    kin between man and beast, could hardly be.


    [1] Dawson, Aborigines, pp. 26, 27; Howitt and Fison, Kamilaroi and
    Kurnai, p. 169.

    [2] Spencer and Gillen, Native Tribes of Central Australia.


    But the Australian philosophy of the intercommunion of Nature goes
    still farther than this. Besides the local divisions and the
    kindred stocks which trace their descent from animals, there exist
    among many Australian tribes divisions of a kind still unexplained.
    For example, every man of the Mount Gambier local tribe is by birth
    either a Kumite or a Kroki. This classification applies to the
    whole of the sensible universe. Thus smoke and honeysuckle trees
    belong to the division Kumite, and are akin to the fishhawk stock
    of men. On the other hand, the kangaroo, summer, autumn, the wind
    and the shevak tree belong to the division Kroki, and are akin to
    the black cockatoo stock of men. Any human member of the Kroki
    division has thus for his brothers the sun, the wind, the kangaroo,
    and the rest; while any man of the Kumite division and the crow
    surname is the brother of the rain, the thunder, and the winter.
    This extraordinary belief is not a mere idle fancy--it influences
    conduct. "A man does not kill or use as food any of the animals of
    the same subdivision (Kroki or Kumite) with himself, excepting when
    hunger compels, and then they express sorrow for having to eat
    their wingong (friends) or tumanang (their flesh). When using the
    last word they touch their breasts, to indicate the close
    relationship, meaning almost a portion of themselves. To
    illustrate: One day one of the blacks killed a crow. Three or four
    days afterwards a Boortwa (a man of the crow surname and stock),
    named Larry, died. He had been ailing for some days, but the
    killing of his wingong (totem) hastened his death."[1] Commenting
    on this statement, Mr. Fison observes: "The South Australian savage
    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 part". This account of the
    Australian beliefs and customs is borne out, to a certain extent,
    by the evidence of Sir George Grey,[2] and of the late Mr. Gideon
    Scott Lang.[3] These two writers take no account of the singular
    "dichotomous" divisions, as of Kumite and Kroki, but they draw
    attention to the groups of kindred which derive their surnames from
    animals, plants, and the like. "The origin of these family names,"
    says Sir George Grey, "is attributed by the natives to different
    causes. . . . One origin frequently assigned by the natives is,
    that they were derived from some vegetable or animal being very
    common in the district which the family inhabited." We have seen
    from the evidence of Messrs. Fison and Howitt that a more common
    native explanation is based on kinship with the vegetable or plant
    which bestows the family surname. Sir George Gray mentions that
    the families use their plant or animal as a crest or kobong
    (totem), and he adds that natives never willingly kill animals of
    their kobong, holding that some one of that species is their
    nearest friend. The consequences of eating forbidden animals vary
    considerably. Sometimes the Boyl-yas (that is, ghosts) avenge the
    crime. Thus when Sir George Grey ate some mussels (which, after
    all, are not the crest of the Greys), a storm followed, and one of
    his black fellow improvised this stave:--


    Oh, wherefore did he eat the mussels?
    Now the Boyl-yas storms and thunders make;
    Oh, wherefore would he eat the mussels?


    [1] Kamilaroi and Kurnai, p. 169.

    [2] Travels, ii. 225.

    [3] Lang, Lecture on Natives of Australia, p. 10.


    There are two points in the arrangements of these stocks of kindred
    named from plants and animals which we shall find to possess a high
    importance. No member of any such kindred may marry a woman of the
    same name and descended from the same object.[1] Thus no man of
    the Emu stock may marry an Emu woman; no Blacksnake may marry a
    Blacksnake woman, and so forth. This point is very strongly put by
    Mr. Dawson, who has had much experience of the blacks. "So
    strictly are the laws of marriage carried out, that, should any
    sign of courtship or affection be observed between those 'of one
    flesh,' the brothers or male relatives of the woman beat her
    severely." If the incestuous pair (though not in the least related
    according to our ideas) run away together, they are "half-killed";
    and if the woman dies in consequence of her punishment, her partner
    in iniquity is beaten again. No "eric" or blood-fine of any kind
    is paid for her death, which carries no blood-feud. "Her
    punishment is legal."[2] This account fully corroborates that of
    Sir George Grey.[3]


    [1] Taplin, The Nerrinyeri. p. 2. "Every tribe, regarded by them
    as a family, has its ngaitge, or tutelary genius or tribal symbol,
    in the shape of some bird, beast, fish, reptile, insect, or
    substance. Between individuals of the same tribe no marriage can
    take place." Among the Narrinyeri kindred is reckoned (p. 10) on
    the father's side. See also (p. 46) ngaitge = Samoan aitu. "No
    man or woman will kill their ngaitge," except with precautions, for
    food.

    [2] Op. cit., p. 28.

    [3] Ibid., ii. 220.


    Our conclusion is that the belief in "one flesh" (a kinship shared
    with the animals) must be a thoroughly binding idea, as the notion
    is sanctioned by capital punishment.

    Another important feature in Australian totemism strengthens our
    position. The idea of the animal kinship must be an ancient one in
    the race, because the family surname, Emu, Bandicoot, or what not,
    and the crest, kobong, or protecting and kindred animal, are
    inherited through the mother's side in the majority of stocks.
    This custom, therefore, belongs to that early period of human
    society in which the woman is the permanent and recognised factor
    in the family while male parentage is uncertain.[1] One other
    feature of Australian totemism must be mentioned before we leave
    the subject. There is some evidence that in certain tribes the
    wingong or totem of each man is indicated by a tattooed
    representation of it upon his flesh. The natives are very
    licentious, but men would shrink from an amour with a woman who
    neither belonged to their own district nor spoke their language,
    but who, in spite of that, was of their totem. To avoid mistakes,
    it seems that some tribes mark the totem on the flesh with incised
    lines.[2] The natives frequently design figures of some kind on
    the trees growing near the graves of deceased warriors. Some
    observers have fancied that in these designs they recognised the
    totem of the dead men; but on this subject evidence is by no means
    clear. We shall see that this primitive sort of heraldry, this
    carving or painting of hereditary blazons, is common among the Red
    Men of America.[3]


    [1] Cf. Bachofen, Das Mutterrecht; M'Lennan, Primitive Marriage,
    passim; Encycl. Brit. s. v. Family.

    [2] Fison, op. cit., p. 66.

    [3] Among other recent sources see Howitt in "Organisation of
    Australian Tribes" (Transactions of Royal Society of Victoria,
    1889), and Spencer and Gillen, Natives of Central Australia. In
    Central Australia there is a marked difference in the form of
    Totemism.


    Though a large amount of evidence might be added to that already
    put forward, we may now sum up the inferences to be drawn from the
    study of totemism in Australia. It has been shown (1) that the
    natives think themselves actually akin to animals, plants, the sun,
    and the wind, and things in general; (2) that those ideas influence
    their conduct, and even regulate their social arrangements, because
    (3) men and women of the kinship of the same animal or plant may
    not intermarry, while men are obliged to defend, and in case of
    murder to avenge, persons of the stock of the family or plant from
    which they themselves derive their family name. Thus, on the
    evidence of institutions, it is plain that the Australians are (or
    before the influence of the Europeans became prevalent were) in a
    state of mind which draws no hard and fast line between man and the
    things in the world. If, therefore, we find that in Australian
    myth, men, gods, beasts, and things all shift shapes incessantly,
    and figure in a coroboree dance of confusion, there will be nothing
    to astonish us in the discovery. The myths of men in the Australian
    intellectual condition, of men who hold long conversations with the
    little "native bear," and ask him for oracles, will naturally and
    inevitably be grotesque and confused.[1]


    [1] Brough Smyth, i. 447, on MS. authority of W. Thomas.


    It is "a far cry" from Australia to the West Coast of Africa, and
    it is scarcely to be supposed that the Australians have borrowed
    ideas and institutions from Ashantee, or that the people of
    Ashantee have derived their conceptions of the universe from the
    Murri of Australia. We find, however, on the West African Coast,
    just as we do in Australia, that there exist large local divisions
    of the natives. These divisions are spoken of by Mr. Bowditch (who
    visited the country on a mission in 1817) as nations, and they are
    much more populous and powerful (as the people are more civilised)
    than the local tribes of Australia. Yet, just as among the local
    tribes of Australia, the nations of the West African Coast are
    divided into stocks of kindred, each STOCK having its representatives
    in each NATION. Thus an Ashantee or a Fantee may belong to the same
    stock of kindred as a member of the Assin or Akini nation. When an
    Ashantee of the Annona stock of kindred meets a Warsaw man of the
    same stock they salute and acknowledge each other as brothers. In
    the same way a Ballarat man of the Kangaroo stock in Australia
    recognises a relative in a Mount Gambier man who is also a Kangaroo.
    Now, with one exception, all the names of the twelve stocks of West
    African kindreds, or at least all of them which Mr. Bowditch could
    get the native interpreters to translate, are derived from animals,
    plants and other natural objects, just as in Australia.[1] Thus
    Quonna is a buffalo, Abrootoo is a cornstalk, Abbradi a plantain.
    Other names are, in English, the parrot, the wild cat, red earth,
    panther and dog. Thus all the natives of this part of Africa are
    parrots, dogs, buffaloes, panthers, and so forth, just as the
    Australians are emus, iguanas, black cockatoos, kangaroos, and the
    rest. It is remarkable that there is an Incra stock, or clan of
    ants, in Ashantee, just as there was a race of Myrmidons, believed
    to be descended from or otherwise connected with ants, in ancient
    Greece. Though Bowditch's account of these West African family
    divisions is brief, the arrangement tallies closely with that of
    Australia. It is no great stretch of imagination to infer that the
    African tribes do, or once did, believe themselves to be of the
    kindred of the animals whose names they bear.[2] It is more or less
    confirmatory of this hypothesis that no family is permitted to use
    as food the animal from which it derives its name. We have seen
    that a similar rule prevails, as far as hunger and scarcity of
    victuals permit it to be obeyed, among the natives of Australia.
    The Intchwa stock in Ashantee and Fantee is particularly unlucky,
    because its members may not eat the dog, "much relished by native
    epicures, and therefore a serious privation". Equally to be pitied
    were the ancient Egyptians, who, if they belonged to the district of
    the sheep, might not eat mutton, which their neighbours, the
    Lycopolitae, devoured at pleasure. These restrictions appear to be
    connected with the almost universal dislike of cannibals to eat
    persons of their own kindred except as a pious duty. This law of
    the game in cannibalism has not yet been thoroughly examined, though
    we often hear of wars waged expressly for the purpose of securing
    food (human meat), while some South American tribes actually bred
    from captive women by way of securing constant supplies of permitted
    flesh.[3] When we find stocks, then, which derive their names from
    animals and decline to eat these animals, we may at least SUSPECT
    that they once claimed kinship with the name-giving beasts. The
    refusal to eat them raises a presumption of such faith. Old
    Bosman[4] had noticed the same practices. "One eats no mutton,
    another no goat's flesh, another no beef, swine's flesh, wild fowl,
    cocks with white feathers, and they say their ancestors did so from
    the beginning of the world."


    [1] The evidence of native interpreters may be viewed with
    suspicion. It is improbable, however, that in 1817 the
    interpreters were acquainted with the totemistic theory of
    mythologists, and deliberately mistranslated the names of the
    stocks, so as to make them harmonise with Indian, Australian, and
    Red Indian totem kindreds. This, indeed, is an example where the
    criterion of "recurrence" or "coincidence" seems to be valuable.
    Bowditch's Mission to Ashantee (1873), p. 181.

    [2] This view, however, does not prevail among the totemistic
    tribes of British Columbia, for example.

    [3] Cieza de Leon (Hakluyt Society), p. 50. This amazing tale is
    supported by the statement that kinship went by the female side (p.
    49); the father was thus not of the kin of his child by the alien
    woman. Cieza was with Validillo in 1538.

    [4] In Pinkerton, xvi. 400.


    While in the case of the Ashantee tribes, we can only infer the
    existence of a belief in kinship with the animals from the presence
    of the other features of fully developed totemism (especially from
    the refusal to eat the name-giving animal), we have direct evidence
    for the opinion in another part of Africa, among the Bechuanas.[1]
    Casalis, who passed twenty-three years as a missionary in South
    Africa, thus describes the institution: "While the united
    communities usually bear the name of their chief or of the district
    which they inhabit" (local tribes, as in Australia), "each stock
    (tribu) derives its title from an animal or a vegetable. All the
    Bechuanas are subdivided thus into Bakuenas (crocodile-men),
    Batlapis (men of the fish), Banarer (of the buffalo), Banukus
    (porcupines), Bamoraras (wild vines), and so forth. The Bakuenas
    call the crocodile their father, sing about him in their feasts,
    swear by him, and mark the ears of their cattle with an incision
    which resembles the open jaws of the creature." This custom of
    marking the cattle with the crest, as it were, of the stock, takes
    among some races the shape of deforming themselves, so as the more
    to resemble the animal from which they claim descent. "The chief
    of the family which holds the chief rank in the stock is called
    'The Great Man of the Crocodile'. Precisely in the same way the
    Duchess of Sutherland is styled in Gaelic 'The Great Lady of the
    Cat,'" though totemism is probably not the origin of this title.


    [1] E. Casalis, Les Bassoutos, 1859.


    Casalis proceeds: "No one would dare to eat the flesh or wear the
    skin of the animal whose name he bears. If the animal be
    dangerous--the lion, for example--people only kill him after
    offering every apology and asking his pardon. Purification must
    follow such a sacrifice." Casalis was much struck with the
    resemblance between these practices and the similar customs of
    North American races. Livingstone's account[1] on the whole
    corroborates that of Casalis, though he says the Batau (tribe of
    the lion) no longer exists. "They use the word bina 'to dance,' in
    reference to the custom of thus naming themselves, so that when you
    wish to ascertain what tribe they belong to, you say, 'What do you
    dance?' It would seem as if this had been part of the worship of
    old." The mythological and religious knowledge of the Bushmen is
    still imparted in dances; and when a man is ignorant of some myth
    he will say, "I do not dance that dance," meaning that he does not
    belong to the guild which preserves that particular "sacred
    chapter".[2]


    [1] Missionary Travels (1857), p. 13.

    [2] Orpen, Cape Monthly Magazine, 1872.


    Casalis noticed the similarity between South African and Red Indian
    opinion about kinship with vegetables and beasts. The difficulty
    in treating the Red Indian belief is chiefly found in the abundance
    of the evidence. Perhaps the first person who ever used the word
    "totemism," or, as he spells it, "totamism," was (as we said) Mr.
    Long, an interpreter among the Chippeways, who published his
    Voyages in 1791. Long was not wholly ignorant of the languages, as
    it was his business to speak them, and he was an adopted Indian.
    The ceremony of adoption was painful, beginning with a feast of
    dog's flesh, followed by a Turkish bath and a prolonged process of
    tattooing.[1] According to Long,[2] "The totam, they conceive,
    assumes the form of some beast or other, and therefore they never
    kill, hurt, or eat the animal whose form they think this totam
    bears". One man was filled with religious apprehensions, and gave
    himself up to the gloomy belief of Bunyan and Cowper, that he had
    committed the unpardonable sin, because he dreamed he had killed
    his totem, a bear.[3] This is only one example, like the refusal
    of the Osages to kill the beavers, with which they count cousins,[4]
    that the Red Man's belief is an actual creed, and does influence
    his conduct.


    [1] Long, pp. 46-49.

    [2] Ibid., p. 86.

    [3] Ibid., p. 87.

    [4] Schoolcraft, i. 319.


    As in Australia, the belief in common kin with beasts is most
    clearly proved by the construction of Red Indian society. The
    "totemistic" stage of thought and manners prevails. Thus
    Charlevoix says,[1] "Plusieurs nations ont chacune trois familles
    ou tribus principales, AUSSI ANCIENNES, A CE QU'IL PAROIT, QUE LEUR
    ORIGINE. Chaque tribu porte le nom d'un animal, et la nation
    entiere a aussi le sien, dont elle prend le nom, et dont la figure
    est sa marque, ou, se l'on veut, ses armoiries, on ne signe point
    autrement les traites qu'en traceant ces figures." Among the
    animal totems Charlevoix notices porcupine, bear, wolf and turtle.
    The armoiries, the totemistic heraldry of the peoples of Virginia,
    greatly interested a heraldic ancestor of Gibbon the historian,[2]
    who settled in the colony. According to Schoolcraft,[3] the totem
    or family badge, of a dead warrior is drawn in a reverse position
    on his grave-post. In the same way the leopards of England are
    drawn reversed on the shield of an English king opposite the
    mention of his death in old monkish chronicles. As a general
    rule,[4] persons bearing the same totem in America cannot
    intermarry. "The union must be between various totems." Moreover,
    as in the case of the Australians, "the descent of the chief is in
    the female line". We thus find among the Red Men precisely the
    same totemistic regulations as among the Aborigines of Australia.
    Like the Australians, the Red Men "never" (perhaps we should read
    "hardly ever") eat their totems. Totemists, in short, spare the
    beasts that are their own kith and kin. To avoid multiplying
    details which all corroborate each other, it may suffice to refer
    to Schoolcraft for totemism among the Iowas[5] and the Pueblos;[6]
    for the Iroquois, to Lafitau, a missionary of the early part of the
    eighteenth century. Lafitau was perhaps the first writer who ever
    explained certain features in Greek and other ancient myths and
    practices as survivals from totemism. The Chimera, a composite
    creature, lion, goat and serpent, might represent, Lafitau thought,
    a league of three totem tribes, just as wolf, bear and turtle
    represented the Iroquois League.


    [1] Histoire de la France-Nouvelle, iii. 266.

    [2] Introductio ad Latinam Blasoniam, by John Gibbon, Blue Mantle,
    London, 1682. "The dancers, were painted some party per pale, gul
    and sab, some party per fesse of the same colours;" whence Gibbon
    concluded "that heraldry was ingrafted naturally into the sense of
    the humane race".

    [3] Vol. i. p. 356.

    [4] Schoolcraft, v. 73.

    [5] Ibid., iii. 268.

    [6] Ibid., iv. 86.


    The martyred Pere Rasles, again, writing in 1723,[1] says that one
    stock of the Outaonaks claims descent from a hare ("the great hare
    was a man of prodigious size"), while another stock derive their
    lineage from the carp, and a third descends from a bear; yet they
    do not scruple, after certain expiatory rites, to eat bear's flesh.
    Other North American examples are the Kutchin, who have always
    possessed the system of totems.[2]


    [1] Kip's Jesuits in America i. 33.

    [2] Dall's Alaska, pp. 196-198.


    It is to be noticed, as a peculiarity of Red Indian totemism which
    we have not observed (though it may exist) in Africa, that certain
    stocks claim relations with the sun. Thus Pere Le Petit, writing
    from New Orleans in 1730, mentions the Sun, or great chief of the
    Natchez Indians.[1] The totem of the privileged class among the
    Natchez was the sun, and in all myths the sun is regarded as a
    living being, who can have children, who may be beaten, who bleeds
    when cut, and is simply on the same footing as men and everything
    else in the world. Precisely similar evidence comes from South
    America. In this case our best authority is almost beyond
    suspicion. He knew the native languages well, being himself a
    half-caste. He was learned in the European learning of his time;
    and as a son of the Incas, he had access to all surviving Peruvian
    stores of knowledge, and could collect without difficulty the
    testimonies of his countrymen. It will be seen[2] that Don
    Garcilasso de la Vega could estimate evidence, and ridiculed the
    rough methods and fallacious guesses of Spanish inquirers.
    Garcilasso de la Vega was born about 1540, being the son of an Inca
    princess and of a Spanish conqueror. His book, Commentarias
    Reales,[3] was expressly intended to rectify the errors of such
    Spanish writers as Acosta. In his account of Peruvian religion,
    Garcilasso distinguishes between the beliefs of the tribes previous
    to the rise of the Inca empire and the sun-worship of the Incas.
    But it is plain, from Garcilasso's own account and from other
    evidence, that under the Incas the older faiths and fetichisms
    survived, in subordination to sun-worship, just as Pagan
    superstitions survived in custom and folk-lore after the official
    recognition of Christianity. Sun-worship, in Peru, and the belief
    in a Supreme Creator there, seem even, like Catholicism in Mexico,
    China and elsewhere, to have made a kind of compromise with the
    lower beliefs, and to have been content to allow a certain amount
    of bowing down in the temples of the elder faiths. According,
    then, to Garcilasso's account of Peruvian totemism, "An Indian was
    not looked upon as honourable unless he was descended from a
    fountain, river,[4] or lake, or even from the sea, OR FROM A WILD
    ANIMAL, such as a bear, lion, tiger, eagle, or the bird they call
    cuntur (condor), or some other bird of prey ".[5] A certain amount
    of worship was connected with this belief in kinship with beasts
    and natural objects. Men offered up to their totems "what they
    usually saw them eat".[6] On the seacoasts "they worshipped
    sardines, skates, dog-fish, and, for want of larger gods,
    crabs. . . . There was not an animal, how vile and filthy soever,
    that they did not worship as a god," including "lizards, toads and
    frogs." Garcilasso (who says they ate the fish they worshipped)
    gives his own theory of the origin of totemism. In the beginning
    men had only sought for badges whereby to discriminate one human
    stock from another. "The one desired to have a god different from
    the other. . . . They only thought of making one different from
    another." When the Inca emperors began to civilise the totemistic
    stocks, they pointed out that their own father, the sun, possessed
    "splendour and beauty" as contrasted with "the ugliness and filth of
    the frogs and other vermin they looked upon as gods".[7] Garcilasso,
    of course, does not use the North American word totem (or ote or
    otem) for the family badge which represented the family ancestors.
    He calls these things, as a general rule, pacarissa. The sun was the
    pacarissa of the Incas, as it was of the chief of the Natchez. The
    pacarissa of other stocks was the lion, bear, frog, or what not.
    Garcilasso accounts for the belief accorded to the Incas, when they
    claimed actual descent from the sun, by observing[8] that "there
    were tribes among their subjects who professed similar fabulous
    descents, though they did not comprehend how to select ancestors so
    well as the Incas, but adored animals and other low and earthly
    objects". As to the fact of the Peruvian worship of beasts, if more
    evidence is wanted, it is given, among others, by Cieza de Leon,[9]
    who contrasts the adoration of the Roman gods with that offered in
    Peru to brutes. "In the important temple of Pacha-camac (the
    spiritual deity of Peru) they worshipped a she-fox or vixen and an
    emerald." The devil also "appeared to them and spoke in the form of
    a tiger, very fierce". Other examples of totemism in South America
    may be studied in the tribes on the Amazon.[10] Mr. Wallace found
    the Pineapple stock, the Mosquitoes, Woodpeckers, Herons, and other
    totem kindreds. A curious example of similar ideas is discovered
    among the Bonis of Guiana. These people were originally West Coast
    Africans imported as slaves, who have won their freedom with the
    sword. While they retain a rough belief in Gadou (God) and Didibi
    (the devil), they are divided into totem stocks with animal names.
    The red ape, turtle and cayman are among the chief totems.[11]


    [1] Kip, ii. 288.

    [2] Appendix B.

    [3] See translation in Hakluyt Society's Collection.

    [4] Like many Greek heroes. Odyssey, iii. 489. "Orsilochus, the
    child begotten of Alpheus."

    [5] Comm. Real., i. 75.

    [6] Ibid., 53.

    [7] Ibid., 102.

    [8] Ibid., 83.

    [9] Cieza de Leon (Hakluyt Society), p. 183.

    [10] Acuna, p. 103; Wallace, Travels on Amazon (1853), pp. 481-506.

    [11] Crevaux, Voyages dans l'Amerique du Sud, p. 59.


    After this hasty examination of the confused belief in kinship with
    animals and other natural objects which underlies institutions in
    Australia, West and South Africa, North and South America, we may
    glance at similar notions among the non-Aryan races of India. In
    Dalton's Ethnology of Bengal,[1] he tells us that the Garo clans
    are divided into maharis or motherhoods. Children belong to the
    mahari of the mother, just as (in general) they derive their stock
    name and totem from the mother's side in Australia and among the
    North American Indians. No man may marry (as among the Red Indians
    and Australians) a woman belonging to his own stock, motherhood or
    mahari. So far the maharis of Bengal exactly correspond to the
    totem kindred. But do the Maharis also take their names from
    plants and animals, and so forth? We know that the Killis, similar
    communities among the Bengal Hos and Mundos, do this.[2] "The
    Mundaris, like the Oraons, adopt as their tribal distinction the
    name of some animal, and the flesh of that animal is tabooed to
    them as food; for example, the eel, the tortoise." This is exactly
    the state of things in Ashanti. Dalton mentions also[3] a princely
    family in Nagpur which claims descent from "a great hooded snake".
    Among the Oraons he found[4] tribes which might not eat young mice
    (considered a dainty) or tortoises, and a stock which might not eat
    the oil of the tree which was their totem, nor even sit in its
    shade. "The family or tribal names" (within which they may not
    marry) "are usually those of animals or plants, and when this is
    the case, the flesh of some part of the animal or the fruit of the
    tree is tabooed to the tribe called after it."


    [1] Dalton, p. 63.

    [2] Ibid., p. 189.

    [3] Ibid., p. 166.

    [4] Ibid., p. 254.


    An excellent sketch of totemism in India is given by Mr. H. H.
    Risley of the Bengal Civil Service:--[1]


    [1] The Asiatic Quarterly, No. 3, Essay on "Primitive Marriage in
    Bengal."


    "At the bottom of the social system, as understood by the average
    Hindu, stands a large body of non-Aryan castes and tribes, each of
    which is broken up into a number of what may be called totemistic
    exogamous septs. Each sept bears the name of an animal, a tree, a
    plant, or of some material object, natural or artificial, which the
    members of that sept are prohibited from killing, eating, cutting,
    burning, carrying, using, etc."[1]


    [1] Here we may note that the origin of exogamy itself is merely
    part of a strict totemistic prohibition. A man may not "use" an
    object within the totem kin, nor a woman of the kin. Compare the
    Greek idiom [Greek text omitted].


    Mr. Risley finds that both Kolarians, as the Sonthals, and
    Dravidians, as the Oraons, are in this state of totemism, like the
    Hos and Mundas. It is most instructive to learn that, as one of
    these tribes rises in the social scale, it sloughs off its totem,
    and, abandoning the common name derived from bird, beast, or plant,
    adopts that of an eponymous ancestor. A tendency in this direction
    has been observed by Messrs. Fison and Howitt even in Australia.
    The Mahilis, Koras and Kurmis, who profess to be members of the
    Hindu community, still retain the totemistic organisation, with
    names derived from birds, beasts and plants. Even the Jagannathi
    Kumhars of Orissa, taking rank immediately below the writer-caste,
    have the totems tiger, snake, weasel, cow, frog, sparrow and
    tortoise. The sub-castes of the Khatlya Kumhars explain away their
    totem-names "as names of certain saints, who, being present at
    Daksha's Horse-sacrifice, transformed themselves into animals to
    escape the wrath of Siva," like the gods of Egypt when they fled in
    bestial form from the wrath of Set.

    Among the non-Aryan tribes the marriage law has the totemistic
    sanction. No man may marry a woman of his totem kin. When the
    totem-name is changed for an eponym, the non-Aryan, rising in the
    social scale, is practically in the same position as the Brahmans,
    "divided into exogamous sections (gotras), the members of which
    profess to be descended from the mythical rishi or inspired saint
    whose name the gotra bears". There is thus nothing to bar the
    conjecture that the exogamous gotras of the whole Brahmans were
    once a form of totem-kindred, which (like aspiring non-Aryan stocks
    at the present day) dropped the totem-name and renamed the septs
    from some eponymous hero, medicine-man, or Rishi.

    Constant repetition of the same set of facts becomes irksome, and
    yet is made necessary by the legitimate demand for trustworthy and
    abundant evidence. As the reader must already have reflected, this
    living mythical belief in the common confused equality of men,
    gods, plants, beasts, rivers, and what not, which still regulates
    savage society,[1] is one of the most prominent features in
    mythology. Porphyry remarked and exactly described it among the
    Egyptians--"common and akin to men and gods they believed the
    beasts to be."[2] The belief in such equality is alien to modern
    civilisation. We have shown that it is common and fundamental in
    savagery. For instance, in the Pacific, we might quote Turner,[3]
    and for Melanesia, Codrington,[4] while for New Zealand we have
    Taylor.[5] For the Jakuts, along the banks of the Lena in Northern
    Asia, we have the evidence of Strahlenberg, who writes: "Each tribe
    of these people look upon some particular creature as sacred, e.g.,
    a swan, goose, raven, etc., and such is not eaten by that tribe"
    though the others may eat it.[6] As the majority of our witnesses
    were quite unaware that the facts they described were common among
    races of whom many of them had never even heard, their evidence may
    surely be accepted as valid, especially as the beliefs testified to
    express themselves in marriage laws, in the blood-feud, in
    abstinence from food, on pillars over graves, in rude heraldry, and
    in other obvious and palpable shapes. If we have not made out, by
    the evidence of institutions, that a confused credulity concerning
    the equality and kinship of man and the objects in nature is
    actually a ruling belief among savages, and even higher races, from
    the Lena to the Amazon, from the Gold Coast to Queensland, we may
    despair of ever convincing an opponent. The survival of the same
    beliefs and institutions among civilised races, Aryan and others,
    will later be demonstrated.[7] If we find that the mythology of
    civilised races here agrees with the actual practical belief of
    savages, and if we also find that civilised races retain survivals
    of the institutions in which the belief is expressed by savages,
    then we may surely infer that the activity of beasts in the myths
    of Greece springs from the same sources as the similar activity of
    beasts in the myths of Iroquois or Kaffirs. That is to say, part
    of the irrational element in Greek myth will be shown to be derived
    (whether by inheritance or borrowing) from an ascertained condition
    of savage fancy.


    [1] See some very curious and disgusting examples of this confusion
    in Liebrecht's Zur Volkskunde, pp. 395, 396 (Heilbronn, 1879).

    [2] De Abst., ii. 26.

    [3] Nineteen Years in Polynesia, p. 238, and Samoa by the same
    author. Complete totemism is not asserted here, and is denied for
    Melanesia.

    [4] Journ. Anthrop. Inst., "Religious Practices in Melanesia".

    [5] New Zealand, "Animal Intermarriage with Men".

    [6] Description of Asia (1783), p. 383.

    [7] Professor Robertson Smith, Kinship in Arabia, attempts to show
    that totemism existed in the Semitic races. The topic must be left
    to Orientalists.

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