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THE 

MAKING 

OF 

MAN 

An  Outline  of  Anthrvfjohgy 

EDITED  BY 

V.  F.  CALVERTON 


THE 

MODERN  LIBRARY 

NEW  YORK 


COPYRIGHT,    1931,   BY    THB    MODERN    LIBRARY,  INC. 


RdJldom  HoilSC  is  THE  PUBLISHER  OK 

THE    MODERN    LIBRARY 

BKNNETT  A.  CBRF  •  DONALD  S.  KLOPFER  •  ROBERT  K.  HAAS 

Manufactured  in  the  United  States  of  America 
Printed  by  Parkway  Printing  Company        Bound  by  H.  Wolff 


To 
ROBERT  BRIFFAULT 

warm  friend, 

and  one  of  the  most  amazing  and  original 
minds  of  our  generation* 


PREFACE 

A  WELL-KNOWN  anthropologist  described  this  volume, 
upon  surveying  its  contents,  as  a  "Golden  Treasury  of  An^ 
thropology."  For  my  part,  I  should  hesitate  to  call  it  that. 
Knowing  the  difficulties  in  its  composition,  I  doubt  whether 
it  is  even  a  bronze  treasury.  But  some  kind  of  treasury  it 
aims  to  be,  at  least  in  the  absence  of  any  other  book  of  this 
type. 

The  materials  in  this  book  have  not  been  gathered  to- 
gether for  the  professional  anthropologist  or  the  professional 
research-worker.  Any  student  of  the  subject  already  knows 
them.  They  have  been  collected,  on  the  other  ha»d,  for 
social  scientists  in  general,  whose  knowledge  of  anthropology 
on  the  whole  is  often  very  limited  and  is  too  seldom  used  for 
correct  correlations,  and  for  that  vast  army  of  readers  who 
are  interested  in  the  development  of  the  social  sciences  but 
are  unable  to  pursue  their  interest  through  many  of  the 
ramifications  of  the  materials. 

With  that  end  in  mind  this  volume  might  have  been 
edited  in  a  number  of  ways.  I  chose  the  one  that  seemed  to 
me  at  once  the  most  economical  and  fruitful.  As  it  is  I  have 
been  forced  to  leave  out  much  material  that  I  originally 
planned  to  include.  My  particular  regret  in  this  respect  is 
that  I  had  to  exclude,  for  lack  of  space,  a  whole  section  on 
primitive  art.  The  only  selection  dealing  with  primitive  art 
in  this  volume  is  that  of  Dechelette  on  the  Art  of  the  Rein- 
deer Epoch.  I  had  wanted  especially  to  use  a  chapter  from 
Boas'  valuable  work:  Primitive  Art,  but  that  too  had  to  be 
sacrificed  along  with  the  other  articles  in  that  section.  Sacri- 
fices of  a  different  variety  often  had  to  be  made  in  order  to 
preserve  something  of  the  unity  of  the  volume. 

I  have  not  aimed  to  use  selections  from  anthropologists, 
which  are  representative  of  their  work  as  a  whole— or  which 

vii 


Viii  PREFACE 

even  stand  forth  as  their  best-known  or  their  highest-valued 
contributions  to  their  subject.  My  purpose  was  not  of  that 
character.  I  have  thought  of  the  book  as  a  unit,  and  have 
selected  those  contributions  which  have  helped  preserve  that 
unity.  Wherever  possible,  of  course,  I  have  tried  to  use 
articles  or  chapters  from  an  author's  work  which  do  repre- 
sent his  stand  or  position  in  the  theoretical  field.  In  many 
cases,  to  be  sure,  that  was  impossible.  In  a  few  cases  I 
have  had  to  use  articles  from  various  authors  that  are  not 
representative  of  their  work  in  general.  Exigencies  in  the 
organization  of  the  book  made  such  choices  in  places  un- 
avoidable.1 A  chapter  from  Wissler's  American  Indian  or 
Man  and  Culture,  for  example,  would  have  been  better, 
no  doubt,  than  the  chapter  on  Technology  which  I  chose 
from  his  recent  book,  An  Introduction  to  Social  Anthro- 
pology'. Chapters  from  the  earlier  books,  however,  did  not 
fit  as  well  into  the  plan  of  organization,  or  fulfill  as  specific 
a  need,  as  the  chapter  on  Technology.  Similar  considerations 
motivated  a  number  of  the  other  choices — especially  those 
from  Lowie  and  Kroeber.  In  the  case  of  Boas  in  particular 
I  should  have  liked  to  have  had  the  selections  more  ade- 
quate and  representative.  Boas'  main  work,  however,  has 
appeared  in  monographic  form.  It  covers  a  vast  area  of 
material,  and  in  extensity  of  detail  and  excellence  of  analysis 
is  unsurpassed  by  that  of  any  other  worker  in  the  field.  Un- 
fortunately, though,  most  of  these  monographs  are  con- 
cerned with  materials  and  problems  that  are  too  technical 
for  use  in  this  volume.  I  used  Goldenweiser's  monograph  on 
Totemism  only  because  it  served  a  very  definite  purpose  in 
the  volume.  Goldenweiser  has  contributed  so  many  other 
important  essays  in  the  general  field  that  I  only  wish  it  had 
been  possible  to  have  included  more  of  his  work — for  sheer 
critical  analysis  Goldenweiser,  in  my  opinion,  is  scarcely 
surpassed  by  any  other  American  anthropologist.  As  a  con- 
sequence of  these  necessities  of  choice  and  exclusion,  the 
book  undoubtedly  has  lost  in  individual  representativeness, 
although  it  has  gained  in  conceptual  unity. 


PREFACE  Uf 

I  am  glad  that  the  organization  of  the  book  made  it  pos- 
sible for  me  to  include  representatives  of  four  main  schools 
of  anthropology:  the  French,  the  English,  the  German,  and 
the  American.  In  a  book  of  this  kind,  where  theory  is  of 
more  interest  and  importance  than  the  pure  depiction  of 
fact,  the  divergent  attitudes  and  positions  of  the  various 
schools  should  be  represented,  since,  as  Rivers  says,  "there 
is  so  great  a  degree  of  divergence  between  the  methods  of 
work  of  the  leading  schools  of  different  countries,  that  any 
common  scheme  is  impossible,  and  the  members  of  one 
school  wholly  distrust  the  work  of  the  others  whose  con- 
clusions they  believe  to  be  founded  on  a  radically  unsound 
basis."  While  the  theoretic  differences  of  the  several  schools 
may  not  be  fully  elaborated  in  the  respective  essays — the 
evolutionary  and  institutional  emphasis  of  the  English  school 
(Rivers,  Perry,  Briffault,  etc.),  the  collectivistic  emphasis  of 
the  French  (Levy-Bruhl),  the  non-theoretical  and  somewhat 
psychological  emphasis  of  the  American  (Boas,  Lowie, 
Kroeber),  and  the  environmental  emphasis  of  the  German 
(Graebner) — the  work  of  their  several  representatives  that 
are  included  here  testify  to  their  differences  of  approach. 

A  word  of  explanation  is  also  needed  to  show  why  I  have 
included  the  work  of  various  writers  whose  theories  have 
already  been  outmoded.  In  most  cases  such  choices  have 
been  made  because  the  work  of  these  writers  was  at  one 
time  important,  and  because  it  exerted  such  a  wide  in* 
fluence  in  its  heyday,  and  in  the  history  of  the  subject 
cannot  be  neglected.  The  work  of  Bachofen,  for  example, 
is  a  good  illustration  of  this.  No  one  to-day  would  take 
Bachofen's  arguments  and  evidence  seriously,  and  yet  no 
one  can  deny  that  they  were  influential  in  their  day.  Yet  no 
one  interested  in  the  development  of  anthropological 
thought,  at  least  from  a  historical  point  of  view,  can  neglect 
Bachofen,  however  untenable  they  may  view  his  conclusions. 
The  inclusion  of  this  chapter  from  Das  Mutterrecht  marks 
the  first  time,  as  far  as  I  know,  that  Bachofen  has  been 
translated  into  English.  The  same  can  be  said  to  be  true, 


X  PREFACE 

I  believe,  of  Graebner.  In  addition  to  Bachofen  and  Graeb- 
ncr,  I  also  have  had  a  chapter  from  Dechelette's  Manuel 
d'archeologie  prehistorique ,  celtiquc  et  gallo-romaine ,  trans- 
lated and  included  in  this  anthology.  Although  Tylor's  work 
on  animism  has  dated  somewhat,  no  anthology  of  anthro- 
pological work  would  be  complete  without  it. 

Although  I  have  not  included  any  discussion  of  the  theory 
of  cultural  origins,  involving  the  whole  problem  of  inven- 
tion and  diffusion  or  what  has  been  called  by  Spinden  the 
prosaic  school  versus  the  romantic,  the  general  aspects  of 
the  controversy  emerge  from  the  essays  of  the  various  ex- 
ponents of  the  different  schools  that  are  included.  W.  J. 
Perry  and  G.  Elliot  Smith  are  certainly  typical  enough  of 
the  romantics;  and  Malinowski,  Goldenweiser  and  a  num- 
ber of  others  are  representative  enough  of  the  prosaics.  I 
included  Freud  and  Roheim  because  I  think  the  psycho- 
analytic approach — which,  by  the  way,  early  influenced 
Rivers,  Goldenweiser,  and  Malinowski,  although  Malinow- 
ski has  lately  repudiated  much  of  its  logic — should  be  rep- 
resented, however  far-fetched  and  unscientific  may  be  its 
contentions  and  conclusions.  The  chapter  from  Carpenter 
was  included,  dubious  though  certain  of  its  materials  may 
be,  because  it  represents  a  unique  approach  to  the  problem  of 
homosexuality  in  primitive  culture. 

The  only  essay  that  was  written  especially  for  this  volume 
is  the  one  on  Law  and  Anthropology  which  was  done  by 
Mr.  Huntington  Cairns.  In  the  absence  of  any  good  material 
in  this  field,  I  asked  Mr.  Cairns,  who  has  already  done  a 
great  deal  of  work  in  the  way  of  synthesizing  law  and  the 
social  sciences,  to  make  a  special  study  of  the  theme,  and 
Jie  happy  result  of  my  request  is  to  be  discovered  in  his 
essay  in  Part  III. 

I  want  to  express  here  my  particular  thanks  to  Frida  Ilmer 
for  her  translations  of  the  selections  from  Bachofen,  Graeb- 
ner, and  Dechelette.  I  owe  a  deep  debt  of  gratitude  also  to 
Charles  Smith  who  generously  helped  prepare  the  manu- 
script for  the  printer.  In  addition  I  want  to  thank  Bcrnhard 


PREFACE  XI 

J.  Stern  for  several  valuable  suggestions  which  he  made 
about  the  volume  as  a  whole,  and  Ruth  Benedict  for  her 
kind  answers  to  my  several  letters  about  problems  that 
concerned  me  in  this  book. 

In  conclusion  let  me  add  that  if  this  book  helps  social 
scientists  and  the  general  reader  get  a  better  and  more  in- 
formed and  various  idea  of  the  nature  of  primitive  man  and 
the  theories  concerning  him,  it  will  have  served  its  purpose. 
We  are  in  more  need  of  syntheses  in  the  social  sciences  to-day 
than  ever  before.  Anthropology  in  general  is  neglected  by 
the  social  sciences — or  when  it  is  utilized  it  is  usually  anthro- 
pological doctrine  that  is  behind  the  times,  or  doctrine  that 
is  especially  peculiar  to  a  specific  school.  At  least  most  of  the 
prevailing  schools  are  represented  in  these  pages.  Most  of 
the  doctrines  represented  here  also  are  modern — with  the 
exception  of  those  of  the  classical  school  which  have  been 
included  mainly  for  historical  reference. 

I  also  want  to  guard  the  reader  against  viewing  my  Intro- 
duction as  representative  of  the  spirit  of  the  volume  as  a 
whole.  I  have  expressed  in  the  Introduction  a  point  of  view 
that  is  specifically  my  own,  and  which  should  be  considered 
as  such,  and  not  looked  upon  as  representing  that  of  the 
other  contributors  to  the  book. 

I  want  to  thank  the  following  publishers  for  permission 
to  use  certain  of  the  chapters  included  in  this  book :  George 
Allen  &  Unwin;  American  Anthropological  Association; 
American  Journal  of  Sociology;  D.  Appleton  &  Co.;  The 
Century  Magazine;  Chapman  &  Hall;  Columbia  Law  Re- 
view; Dodd,  Mead  &  Co.;  Harcourt,  Brace  &  Co.;  Harper  & 
Brothers;  Henry  Holt  &  Co.;  Alfred  A.  Knopf,  Inc.;  Hor- 
ace L  iveright,  Inc.;  The  Macmillan  Company;  Macmillan  & 
Company;  Methuen  &  Co.;  William  Morrow  &  Co.;  The 
New  Republic;  W.  W.  Norton  &  Co.;  David  Nutt;  Oliver  & 
Boyd;  Kegan  Paul;  Alphonse  Picard  et  Fils;  Psyche;  Carl 
Winter;  Scientia.  y  R  QALVERTON. 

NEW  YORK, 
September  10,  1930. 


Xg  PREFACE 

NOTES 

1  For  those  who  wish  to  pursue  the  subject  at  greater  length,  however, 
the  bibliography  will  provide  material  for  further  guidance.  I  have  been 
particularly  careful  in  the  bibliography  to  avoid  selections  that  would  be  of 
only  technical  interest  to  the  reader.  In  certain  cases  I  have  noted  tech- 
nical articles,  but  only  because  I  think  the  reader  might  find  them  of 
value.  In  general,  however,  I  have  confined  the  bibliography  to  materials 
of  more  theoretic  character. 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

PREFACE vii 

INTRODUCTION:  Modern  An- 
thropology and  the 
Theory  of  Cultural 
Compulsives  .  .  .  V.  F.  Calverton  I 

I.  FOSSIL  AND  PREHISTORIC  MAN 

1.  Fossil  Men  .     .          Marcelin  Boule  41 

2.  The     Structure    of 

Prehistoric  Man     .  Wilson  D.  Wallis  64 

3.  The  Tasmanians    .  W.  J.  Sollas  77 

4.  The  Art  of  the  Rein- 
deer Epoch  .     .      .  Joseph  DSchelette  9^ 

5.  The  Peking  Man    .  /.  H.  McGregor  104 

II.  RACE  AND  LANGUAGE 

1.  The  Problem  of  Race  Franz  Boas  113 

2.  Language,  Race,  and 

Culture   ....     Edward  Sapir  142 

III.  SOCIAL  ORGANIZATION 

1.  Das  Mutterrecht     .     /.  Bachofen  157 

2.  Organization  of  So- 
ciety upon  the  Basis 

1  of  Sex     ....     Lewis  H.  Morgan  168 

3.  Motherright       .      .     E.  S.  Hartland  182 

4.  Group-Marriqge  and 

Sexual  Communism    Robert  Briffault  203 

5.  Property       .     .     .     W.  H.  R.  Rivers  234 

6.  The    Solidarity    of 
the  Individual  with 

His  Group  .     .     .    Lucicn  Ltvy-Bruhl  249 

ziii 


XIV  CONTENTS 

PACK 

7.  Initiation     Ceremo- 
nies     Baldwin  S fencer  and  F.  /. 

Gillen  281 

8.  The  Coming  of  the 

Warriors       .      .      .     W.  J.  Perry  306 

9.  Law  and  Anthropol- 
ogy     Huntington  Cairns  331 

10.  Totemism     .      .  Alexander  Goldenweiser       363 

11.  The     Influence     ot 
Ancient      Egyptian 
Civilization   in    the 
East  and  in  Amer- 
ica      G.  Elliot  Smith  393 

12.  Causality   and  Cul- 
ture     F.  Gracbner  421 

13.  Banaro  Society        .     Richard  Thurnwald  429 

14.  Technology        .      .     Clar\  Wissler  446 

15.  Cannibalism  .     William  Graham  Sumner    466 

IV.  SEXUAL  CUSTOMS  AND  SOCIAL  PRACTICE 

1.  The  Origin  of  Love    Robert  Briffault  485 

2.  Homosexual  Love        Edward  WestermarcJ^  529 

3.  The    Relations    Be- 
tween the  Sexes  in 

Tribal  Life  .     .     .     Bronislaw  Malinows1(i  565 

4.  Formal    Sex    Rela- 
tions in  Samoa  .      .     Margaret  Mead  586 

5.  The  Savage's  Dread 

of  Incest  Sigmund  Freud  603 

6.  The      Intermediate 
Type  as  Prophet  or 

Priest      ....     Edward  Carpenter  619 

V.  RELIGION 

1.  Animism      .     .     .     Sir  Edward  B.  Tylor  635 

2.  The  Conception  of 

Mana      .     .     .     .     R.  R.  Marett  660 

3.  Animism    and    the 

Other  World     .     .     Geza  Roheim  676 


CONTENTS  XV 

PACK 

4.  Magic  and  Religion    Sir  James  Frazer  693 

5.  The   Growth   of  a 

Primitive  Religion  .     A.  L.  Kroeber  714 

6.  Woman     and     Re- 
ligion     ....     Robert  H.  Lowie  744 

VI.  EVOLUTION  OF  ATTITUDES 

1.  Evolution    of    Hu- 
man Species      .     .     Robert  Briffault  761 

2.  Collective       Repre- 
sentation in  Primi- 
tives'      Perceptions 
and     the     Mystical 

Character  of  Such       Lucien  Ltvy-Bruhl  771 

3.  The  Science  of  Cus- 
tom   ...  .     Ruth  Benedict  805 

4.  Concept    of    Right 

and  Wrong  .     .     .     Paul  Radin  818 

5.  Class  Relations  .      .     L.  T.  Hobhouse  828 

• 
BIOGRAPHIES 865 

BIBLIOGRAPHY 875 


INTRODUCTION* 

MODERN  ANTHROPOLOGY  AND  THE  THEORY  OF  CULTURAL 
COMPULSIVES 

By  V.  F.  CALVERTON 

THE  growth  of  the  science  of  anthropology  is  closely 
bound  up  with  the  development  of  the  doctrine  of  evolution. 
Neither  could  have  advanced  very  far,  however,  without  the 
aid  of  the  other.  Both  were,  and  still  are,  part  of  a  complete 
cycle  of  intellectual  change.  Curiously  enough  the  rise  of 
both  illuminates  a  tendency  in  nineteenth  century  thought 
that  we  have  no  more  than  begun  to  escape  to-day — a 
tendency  to  see  the  past  in  terms  of  the  present,  or,  what  is 
worse,  in  terms  of  what  is  thought  to  be  the  present.  In  differ- 
ent words,  it  is  to  view  others,  to  interpret  their  ideas,  to  ad- 
judge their  institutions,  in  terms  of  ourselves,  setting  forth 
our  own  ideas  and  institutions  as  an  absolute  criterion.  This 
whole  tendency  was  an  inevitable  outgrowth  of  nineteenth 
century  logic  with  its  evolutionary  emphasis. 

Now  the  doctrine  of  evolution  and  the  science  of  an- 
thropology did  not  spring  upon  the  nineteenth  century 
mind  full-blown,  like  a  dazzling  intuition,  shattering  all  the 
previous  fictions  about  man  in  a  sudden  intellectual  sword- 
thrust.  On  the  contrary,  they  were  a  result  of  a  cumulative 
process  which  derived  its  momentum  from  the  vast  move- 
ments of  men  and  materials  that  had  been  set  agog  in  that 
century.  While  theories  of  evolution,  as  we  know,  arose  first 
with  the  Greeks,  it  was  not  until  the  eighteenth  century  that 
*hey  made  any  headway  in  the  western  world.  Prior  to 

*This  introduction  had  an  English  publication  in  Psyche,  October,  1930, 
and  an  American  publication  in  the  American  Journal  of  Sociology,  March. 


a  THEMAKINGOFMAN 

Charles  Darwin,  in  the  works  of  such  men  as  Buffon,  Eras- 
mus  Darwin,  Goethe,  Sa.nt-HiLiire  and  Lamarck,  evolu- 
tionary hypotheses  had  been  advanced  in  rapid  succession. 
The  whole  doctrine  of  evolution  was  the  consuming  topic 
of  the  day.  The  very  simultaneity  with  which  Darwin  and 
Wallace  struck  upon  the  theory  of  natural  selection  and  the 
survival  of  the  fittest  was  magnificent  proof  of  the  intense 
activity  of  the  idea  at  the  time.  Every  force  in  the  environ- 
ment, economic  and  social,  conspired  to  the  success  of  the 
doctrine. 

We  should  really  wonder  little  at  this  when  we  realize  that 
the  outstanding  characteristic  of  western  Europe  in  the 
nineteenth  century  was  change.  Never  before  had  man  wit- 
nessed, in  so  brief  a  time,  such  vast  revolutions  in  phenom- 
ena. The  Industrial  Revolution  was  the  cause  of  these  rapid 
transformations  in  western  life.  It  was  the  dynamo  that  shot 
the  age  agog  with  new  desires  and  fresh  vision.  Life  became 
afire  with  activity  and  creation.  Newness  almost  lost  its 
novelty.  New  aspirations  multiplied  with  every  dawn.  In- 
vention succeeded  invention  until  the  genius  of  the  age 
became  a  miracle  in  mechanics.  Tiny  wires  became  the  con- 
ductors of  great  energy;  inert  metals  became  moving 
machines;  water,  air,  and  earth  became  the  source  of  new 
discovery  and  power.  Fantastic  fictions  became  pragmatic 
achievements.  Leonardo  da  Vinci's  futile  experimentations 
became  realized  science.  Jules  Verne  became  a  clairvoyant 
prophet.  New  conceptions  burst  pcllmell  upon  the  old, 
burying  them  in  the  debris  of  discarded  superstition.  Men 
became  interested  not  in  the  wherefore  of  existence,  but  in 
its  mastery.  The  machine  promised  a  new  world  at  human 
command.  Men  came  to  look  upon  the  earth  with  new 
eyes.  Unknown  sources  of  energy  were  tapped  on  every  side. 
Nothing  was  left  unexplored.  New  truths  were  derived  from 
old  materials.  The  search  for  one  reality  led  to  the  unex- 
pected discovery  of  ten  more. 

As  a  result  of  this  vast  release  of  energy,  set  thus  in  motion 
by  the  machinery  of  the  new  age,  science  became—at  least 


INTRODUCTION  3 

for  the  new  intellectuals — the  new  philosophy  of  life.  Once 
an  adventure  into  the  strange  and  mysterious,  it  now  be- 
came an  open  sesame  to  the  control  of  the  universe.  In- 
vestigation succeeded  analysis,  and  nothing  was  any  longei 
safe  from  the  invader's  hands.  Even  the  Bible,  which  had 
provided  the  mystic  centerhood  of  western  civilization,  was 
no  longer  withheld  from  scientific  scrutiny.  The  ancient 
aeons  of  the  earth's  past  soon  disclosed  themselves  in  geo- 
logical formation  and  structure.  The  rapid  mutations  of 
the  modern  world  revealed  themselves  in  social  science  and 
historical  theory.  The  idea  of  movement  and  change  became 
an  obsession.  It  was  thus  that  the  way  was  prepared  for  the 
acceptance  of  evolution  not  merely  as  a  scientific  formula 
but  as  a  living  addition  to  our  culture. 

If,  before  1859,  western  civilization  found  its  intellectual 
continuity  in  Biblical  doctrine,  after  1859  it  found  its  new 
continuity  in  the  doctrine  of  evolution.  A  Doctrine  is  only 
seized  upon  in  that  fashion  when  it  supplies  some  great 
need,  emotional  as  well  as  intellectual,  in  the  life  of  man, 
Darwin's  theory  of  evolution  supplied  the  need  for  a  new 
philosophy  of  life.  It  not  only  afforded  a  new  vista  of  human 
development,  but  it  also  provided  a  new  justification  of 
world-progress  in  terms  of  western  civilization.  The  evolu- 
tion of  man  was  seen  as  a  form  of  infinite  progression,  from 
lower  forms  to  higher,  with  modern  civilization  as  repre- 
sentative of  the  highest  form  in  the  evolutionary  scale.  But 
more  than  that,  the  Darwinian  theory  of  natural  selection 
made  survival  synonymous  with  advance.  Since  all  life  was 
a  struggle  for  the  survival  of  the  fittest,  that  which  survived 
was  superior.  And  since  western  civilization  had  survived 
the  most  successfully  in  the  struggle  of  civilizations,  it  must 
of  necessity  represent  the  highest  point  in  human  evolution. 
In  keeping  with  this  logic,  the  principles  and  institutions  of 
western  civilization  were  inevitably  viewed  as  typical  of 
the  most  advanced  in  the  history  of  human  mores.  Private 
property,  the  monogamous  family,  the  democratic  political 
state,  were  all  looked  upon  as  exemplifying  the  great  moral- 


4  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

progress  of  man.  Individualism  was  envisioned  as  marking 
the  great  advance  of  civilized  man  over  the  savage — the 
supremacy  of  the  differentiated  over  the  undifferentiated. 
In  other  words,  the  Darwinian  doctrine  of  evolution  and 
the  consequences  of  its  logic  proffered  the  best  justification 
of  the  status  quo  of  nineteenth  century  Europe  that  had  ap- 
peared in  generations.  It  harmonized  perfectly  with  the 
philosophy  of  the  ruling  class  of  that  day.  Modern  commerce 
and  industry  had  broken  down  the  ideological  defenses  of 
the  old  order  which  had  grown  up  with  feudalism  and  the 
agrarian  tradition;  new  defenses  were  necessary  for  the 
new  ideological  front.  The  Darwinian  doctrine  supplied  that 
defense.  It  rooted  laissez-faire  economics  with  its  competitive 
logic  in  the  very  scheme  of  nature  itself.  It  sanctioned  in- 
dividualism and  the  division  of  classes  on  the  basis  of  the 
necessary  struggle  for  the  survival  of  the  fittest.  It  even 
served  as  a  prop  for  nationalism  and  the  expanding  im- 
perialisms of  the  time.  Whatever  was,  was,  because  it  had 
to  be — because  it  ought  to  be. 

It  was  in  this  cultural  milieu  that  anthropology  had  its 
origins.  The  same  economic  and  social  factors  that  made 
the  doctrine  of  evolution  into  a  new  intellectual  force  caused 
anthropology  to  spring  up  as  an  immediate  adjunct  of 
evolutionary  cause.  The  doctrine  of  evolution  became  the 
basic  structure  of  their  whole  approach.  Beginning  with 
E.  B.  Tylor's  Primitive  Culture  in  1872,  the  main  history  of 
anthropological  thought  in  the  nineteenth  century  is  con- 
cerned with  the  application  of  the  doctrine  of  evolution  to  the 
interpretation  of  man's  past.  The  application,  however,  was 
invariably  made  in  relationship  with  nineteenth  century 
values,  values  that  are  most  often  alluded  to  as  Victorian.  In 
other  words,  those  early  anthropologists  studied  primitive 
man  not  to  find  out  what  he  was  like,  but  what  they  thought 
he  ought  to  be  like.  Blinded  by  the  erroneous  implications 
of  the  doctrine  of  evolution,  namely  that  the  values  of  nine- 
teenth century  civilization,  having  survived  all  other  values, 
must  exemplify  the  highest  point  in  moral  progress,  these 


INTRODUCTION  5 

anthropologists  sought  to  find  in  primitive  life  the  traces  of 
those  forms  of  behavior  that  were  the  lowest  in  the  evolu- 
tionary scale.  They  were  determined,  however  unconsciously, 
to  superimpose  their  own  rationality  upon  that  of  the  primi- 
tive. A  whole  state  of  mind  was  at  work  here — and  not 
merely  an  error  in  scientific  approach.  A  state  of  mind  fos- 
tered by  the  enormous  material  advance  of  nineteenth  cen- 
tury civilization  and  the  new  ideological  armament  which 
it  had  already  begun  to  perfect!  This  state  of  mind  made  it 
impossible  for  the  anthropologists  of  that  day  to  use  the 
facts  as  they  really  were,  or  to  interpret  them  except  in  the 
caricatured  forms  of  current  prejudices.  They  studied  primi- 
tive man  as  one  would  a  puzzle,  shifting  facts  in  every 
which  way,  out  of  all  sequence  and  context,  in  order  to  find 
solutions.  They  were  too  anxious  to  find  universal  evolu< 
tionary  Jaws  which  would  explain  the  rise  of  man  from  the 
crudities  of  primitivism  to  the  refinements  of  nineteenth  cen- 
tury civilization.  Influenced  particularly  by  Morgan,  these 
anthropologists  of  the  evolutionary  school  soon  concluded 
that  society  had  passed  through  certain  definite  stages,  a 
constant  progression  from  the  lower  to  the  higher,  in  which 
modern  civilization  stood  as  an  apex  toward  which  all  the 
past  had  converged.  Not  content,  for  instance,  with  tracing 
the  development  of  marriage  through  its  various  forms, 
these"  men  were  equally  concerned  with  proving  that 
monogamy  was  the  ultimate  stage  in  marital  evolution.  At 
first  it  was  postulated  that  man  had  originally  lived  in  a 
state  of  primitive  promiscuity  or  sexual  communism;  then 
he  had  advanced  to  the  stage  of  group  marriage,  a  stage 
still  found  among  lingering  primitive  groups  to-day;  and 
finally,  after  years  of  change  and  crisis,  he  had  progressed 
to  the  stage  of  monogamy  in  which  he  is  at  the  present  time. 
More  than  that,  Morgan  in  particular  stressed  the  determin- 
ing part  that  property  played  in  the  history  of  primitive  re- 
lations, and  it  was  not  very  long  before  Morgan's  doctrine, 
tail,  kite,  and  all,  was  seized  upon  by  the  radicals  and 
adopted  as  proof  of,  if  not  part  of,  Marxian  philosophy. 


5  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

Almost  every  radical  thinker  in  the  nineteenth  century  cited 
Morgan  as  a  final  authority.  Friedrich  Engels  built  his  whole 
book,  The  Origin  of  the  Family,  on  Morgan's  thesis.  Kautsky 
used  Morgan's  evidence  in  his  Entstehung  Der  Ehe  und 
Familie,  and  Plechanov  made  frequent  reference  to  Morgan 
in  his  various  studies  of  primitive  art  and  culture.  Even  to- 
day many  radicals  still  continue  to  refer  to  Morgan's  work 
as  if  it  had  never  been  outmoded. 

Despite  McLennan's  attacks  on  Morgan's  theory  of 
nomenclature,  and  the  assaults  of  many  other  thinkers  upon 
Morgan's  contentions,  Morgan's  doctrine  made  marked 
headway  in  nineteenth  century  anthropology.  At  first  the 
hostility  it  aroused  was  mainly  intellectual,  for,  when  all  is 
said,  there  was  nothing  in  it  to  offend  the  Victorian  con- 
ception of  life.  Rivers,  I  think,  was  strong  when  he  claimed 
that  the  chief  reason  why  Morgan's  work  was  fought  was 
that  it  pictured  man's  past  in  terms  "bitterly  repugnant 
to  the  sentiments  of  most  civilized  persons."  After  all,  one 
should  not  expect  savages  to  be  elevated  in  morality,  and  if 
they  practiced  promiscuity  that  was  all  the  more  reason  why 
civilized  man  should  practice  monogamy,  for  civilization 
must  mark  an  evolutionary  advance  over  primitivism.  The 
progression,  indeed,  was  perfect.  Morgan's  doctrine  fitted 
in  so  precisely  with  evolution  as  an  absolutistic  concept. 
It  was  not  the  doctrine  itself,  then,  but  its  widespread  ac- 
ceptance by  the  radicals,  and  the  uses  it  was  put  to  by  divers 
revolutionary  thinkers  of  the  period,  that  made  it  suddenly 
become  "bitterly  repugnant"  to  the  nineteenth  century  mind. 
It  was  not  "bitterly  repugnant"  to  the  radical  mind;  it  was 
only  "bitterly  repugnant"  to  the  conservative,  bourgeois  mind 
which  was  concerned  above  all  with  the  protection  of  the 
middle-class  values  that  had  been  exalted  by  nineteenth  cen- 
tury civilization.  As  long  as  Morgan's  doctrine  was  con- 
cerned only  with  the  past,  and  in  its  evolutionary  emphases 
pointed  to  the  present  as  something  of  an  ultimate  in  the 
moral  process — as  in  the  case  of  monogamy — there  was  no 
terror  in  its  proposition.  The  moment,  however,  that  the 


INTRODUCTION  7 

radicals  insisted  upon  interpreting  evolution  as  a  relative 
instead  of  an  absolutistic  concept,  the  danger  began.  No 
longer  could  the  institutions  of  nineteenth  century  civiliza- 
tion be  looked  upon  as  a  culmination  in  evolutionary  ad- 
vance. No  longer  could  private  property  and  the  family,  for 
example,  which  were  inalienable  parts  of  that  civilization, 
be  considered  as  indestructible.  Private  property  and  the 
family,  therefore,  were  but  part  of  a  process  and  not  a  ful- 
fillment of  it.  In  fact,  in  accordance  with  the  evolutionary 
progression  postulated  by  the  radicals,  these  institutions 
were  destined  to  disappear  with  the  next  advance  in  the 
social  process. 

Once  the  doctrine  of  evolution  was  seen  to  carry  in  its 
wake  the  possibilities  of  destruction  as  well  as  construction, 
a  new  set  of  justifications  was  needed  to  defend  the  perma- 
nency of  the  prevailing  values.  Only  in  this  way  could  the 
radical  interpretations  of  the  evolutionary  process  be  an- 
swered. And  thus  began  the  search  for  absolutes — absolutes 
that  would  satisfy  the  nineteenth  century  mind.  The  ex- 
istence of  primitive  communism  was  fought  tooth  and  nail. 
Private  property  was  declared  an  instinct,  fundamental  to 
all  social  life.  Religion  was  defined  as  an  impulse  common 
to  all  men,  savage  as  well  as  civilized,  and  not  an  outgrowth 
of  environment.  The  family  was  defended  as  the  corner  stone 
of  culture,  the  sine  qua  non  of  social  existence.  But  more 
than  that,  monogamy,  the  specific  form  of  the  family 
dominant  at  the  time,  was  declared  the  basic  form  of  mar- 
riage of  the  human  species.  Even  the  animals  were  used 
to  prove  this  thesis.  No  evidence,  however  dubious,  was  un- 
exploited  in  this  connection.  Monogamy  thus  became  not  a 
form  of  marriage  that  had  developed  out  of  certain  condi- 
tions of  economic  life,  but  a  form  of  marriage  that  was 
fundamental  to  the  human  species,  and  those  mammalian 
types  that  were  closest  to  the  human.  In  these  ways,  nine- 
teenth century  institutions  were  saved  from  the  danger  of 
change  and  decay.  No  matter  in  what  direction  evolution 
occurred,  private  property  and  the  family  were  inviolable. 


8  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

They  were  the  absolutes,  the  invariables,  as  it  were,  in  social 
organization,  which  no  radical  evolution — or  revolution — 
could  shake  or  shatter. 

The  class-logic  at  work  here  is  obvious.  Anthropology 
was  thus  made  to  serve  as  an  excellent  prop  for  the  support 
of  middle-class  ethics.  It  defended  the  status  quo  by  giving 
'0-called  final  scientific  sanction  to  its  essential  doctrines. 
The  famous  allusion  in  economic  theory  to  the  monkey 
with  a  stick  as  a  capitalist — thereby  proving  to  the  satisfac- 
tion of  every  sophomore  that  whoever  owns  anything,  how- 
ever small,  which  can  produce  wealth  is  a  capitalist — was 
not  less  absurd  than  the  rationalization  of  monogamy  as  the 
natural  form  of  human  marriage  which  was  foisted  upon 
the  nineteenth  century  world  by  anthropological  dialectic. 

The  most  amazing  illustration  of  the  truth  of  this  con- 
tention is  to  be  found  in  the  history  of  the  work  and  in- 
fluence of  Edward  Westermarck.  When  his  History  of 
Human  Marriage  appeared  in  1891  Westermarck  was  prac- 
tically unknown  to  the  scientific  public.  In  fact,  Alfred  R. 
Wallace  in  his  Introductory  note  to  the  original  volume 
comments  upon  Westermarck  as  a  "hitherto  unknown 
student"  and  a  "new  comer."  In  less  than  ten  years,  how- 
ever, this  "new  comer"  becomes  the  leading  authority  on 
morality  and  marriage,  sweeping  aside  the  influence  of  his 
predecessors  by  virtue  of  his  new  logic.  The  appearance  of 
his  Origin  and  Development  of  the  Moral  Ideas  only 
strengthened  his  influence.  If  his  authority  had  been  con- 
fined to  his  special  science  the  achievement  would  have  been 
significant  enough;  but  the  fact  that  it  became  extended 
to  the  other  sciences  as  well  and  to  the  lay  world  in  general 
makes  its  success  even  more  of  an  event.  Since  the  eighteen- 
nineties  no  other  person  in  this  field  has  exerted  anything 
like  the  enormous  influence  of  Westermarck.  In  almost 
every  text,  lecture,  or  article,  verging  on  the  theme  of 
morality  or  marriage  he  was,  and  in  many  instances  still  is, 
the  standard  reference.  The  universities  in  particular 
adopted  him  at  once  as  their  guide.  Few  minds  dared  to 


INTRODUCTION  9 

defy  his  authority.  The  History  of  Human  Marriage,  in- 
deed, became  the  new  bible  of  the  social  sciences.  And  it 
remained  so  until  the  twenties  of  this  century  when  its 
conclusions  were  assailed  and  annihilated  by  Robert  Briffault 
in  his  work:  The  Mothers. 

But  Westermarck's  former  supremacy  is  of  more  im- 
portance than  his  present  loss  of  it.  In  the  light  of  Briff  ault's 
thoroughly  valid  and  devastating  criticisms  of  Westermarck's 
thesis,  the  sway  that  the  latter  exercised  over  the  minds 
of  his  contemporaries  for  almost  forty  years  becomes  all 
the  more  revealing.  The  fact  that  his  ascendancy  went  prac- 
tically unchallenged  during  that  entire  period  is  even  more 
of  a  revelation.  Why  should  a  man's  doctrine  become  so 
widely  accepted  when  his  evidences  were  so  flimsy  and 
fallacious?  Why  should  his  conclusions  be  accepted  so  read- 
ily and  completely  when  the  problems  involved  were  so 
controversial?  Why  should  he  suddenly  become  an  au- 
thority when  the  evidence  at  hand  was  so  unauthoritative? 
One  answer  might  be  that  he  argued  his  point  with  such 
adroitness  that  even  the  dubious  became  plausible.  But 
granted  that  to  be  the  case,  the  difficulty  still  remains  of 
explaining  why  his  evidence  was  seldom  examined  in  a 
critical  vein,  and  why  such  critical  examinations  as  were 
undertaken  were  never  able  to  win  any  considerable  respect 
or  authority. 

The  answer  is  to  be  found  in  another  field  of  logic — or 
sociologic.  Westermarck's  doctrines  did  more  than  confute 
the  doctrines  of  Morgan,  McLennan,  and  Lubbock;  they 
fulfilled  a  great  socio-intellectual  need  of  the  day.  In  attack- 
ing the  ideas  of  Morgan,  for  example,  he  was  able  to  destroy 
the  logic  of  the  radicals  who  had  based  their  anthropological 
conclusions  upon  Morgan's  work.  And  in  attempting  to 
prove  that  in  all  likelihood  "monogamy  prevailed  almost 
exclusively  among  our  earliest  human  ancestors,"  that  the 
family  existed  anterior  to  man,  and  that  "human  marriage, 
in  all  probability,  is  an  inheritance  from  some  apelike 
p-o~cnitor,"  he  was  able  to  provide  nineteenth  century 


10  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN- 

civilization  with  an  absolute  that  justified  in  perpetuity  one 
of  its  main  institutions.  The  family  thus  became  an  institu- 
tion that  radicals  could  no  longer  assail.  No  evolution  in 
society  could  eradicate  it.  Nor  could  monogamy  be  attacked 
either,  since  it  was  rooted  in  man's  primeval  past,  and  was 
part  of  what  Westermarck  calls  the  "monogamous  instinct." 

It  is  no  wonder,  then,  that  Westermarck's  doctrines  were 
seized  upon  with  such  eagerness,  and  adhered  to  with  such 
tenacity,  by  nineteenth  century  intellectuals  of  middle-class 
character  and  conviction.  The  only  intellectuals  who  did 
not  accept  them  were  the  radical  minds  of  the  time.  College 
professors  no  longer  had  to  rely  upon  Herbert  Spencer's 
contention  that  "the  monogamic  form  of  the  sexual  relation 
is  manifestly  the  ultimate  form"  in  order  to  exalt  nineteenth 
century  institutions  over  those  of  other  periods — and  other 
civilizations.  Anthropology  now,  through  the  work  of 
Westermarck,  had  given  scientific  sanction  to  the  conclusion 
of  Spencer.  "The  laws  of  monogamy  can  never  be  changed," 
wrote  Westermarck,  "but  must  be  followed  much  more 
strictly  than  they  are  now." 

But  all -this  discussion  would  be  of  little  importance  if  it 
were  not  for  the  fact  that  Westermarck's  conclusions  to-day 
cannot  be  viewed  as  anything  else  than  absurd.  Let  us  take 
up  certain  of  Westermarck's  arguments  in  more  careful  and 
specific  detail.  Suppose  we  begin  with  his  defense  of  mo- 
nogamy. In  order  to  root  the  tendency  to  monogamy  deep 
in  nature  itself,  in  other  words  to  give  it  something  of  an 
instinctive  cast,  he  tries  to  trace  its  origins  to  the  higher 
animals.  If  the  higher  animals  are  monogamous,  then  cer- 
tainly man  who  is  descended  from  them  must  carry  within 
him  the  same  instinct.  Utilizing  evidence  often  insufficient 
and  untrustworthy,  Westermarck,  in  his  ardor  to  build 
up  his  case,  claims  that  monogamy  prevailed  among  the 
manlike  apes.  He  cites  the  gorilla  and  chimpanzee  as  par- 
ticular illustrations.  Now  let  us  see  what  kind  of  evidence 
he  used  to  prove  his  thesis.  Briffault's  discussion  of  his  evi- 
dence is  very  much  to  the  point: 


INTRODUCTION  II 

"Dr.  Hartmann,  relying  exclusively  on  an  article  by  Hen 
von  Koppenfels  in  a  German  popular  magazine,  asserted  that 
'the  gorilla  is  monogamous*  (H.  Hartmann,  The  Anthropoid 
Apes,  p.  229),  and  the  statement  was  used  by  Dr.  Westermarc\ 
as  a  foundation  for  his  theory  of  'human  marriage.'  None  of 
even  the  older  information  affords  any  ground  for  the  supposi- 
tion, and  no  other  writer  who  has  given  attention  to  the  subject 
makes  such  a  statement.  The  oldest  extant  account  of  the 
gorilla,  that  of  the  sailor  Andrew  Bartell,  who  spent  eighteen 
years  in  Angola,  states  that  gorillas  *goe  many  together*  ("The 
Strange  Adventures  of  Andrew  Bartell,"  etc.,  in  Hatyuytus 
Posthumus,  or  Purchas  His  Pilgrimes,  vol.  vi,  p.  398).  Dar- 
win's conclusion  was  that  'the  gorilla  is  polygamous'  (C.  Darwin, 
The  Descent  of  Man,  vol.  i,  p.  266;  vol.  ii,  p.  361).  Brehm  con- 
cluded that  the  gorilla  is  polygamous  (A.  E.  Brehm,  Tierleben, 
vol.  i,  p.  65).  He  regarded  the  evidence  collected  from  native 
hunters  by  Win  wood  Reade  as  the  most  reliable  which  was 
available  at  the  time  he  wrote.  Reade  says:  'The  gorilla  is 
polygamous,  and  the  male  frequently  solitary;  in  fact  I  never 
saw  more  than  one  track  at  a  time,  but  there  is  no  doubt  thai 
both  gorillas  and  chimpanzees  are  found  in  bands'  (W.  Win- 
wood  Reade,  "The  Habits  of  the  Gorilla,"  The  American  Nat- 
uralist, vol.  i,  p.  179;  cf.  Idem,  Savage  Africa,  p.  214).  Dr.  R.  L. 
Garner  says,  'It  is  certain  that  the  gorilla  is  polygamous*  (R.  L. 
Garner,  Gorillas  and  Chimpanzees,  p.  224).  The  air  of  mys- 
tery formerly  surrounding  the  gorilla  and  the  uncertainty  of 
our  information  concerning  the  animal  have  now  been  dissi- 
pated, and  we  know  that,  as  Winwood  Reade  observes,  'there 
is  nothing  remarkable  in  the  habits  of  the  gorilla,  nothing  which 
broadly  distinguishes  it  from  other  African  apes*  (W.  Winwood 
Reade,  "The  Habits  of  the  Gorilla,"  The  American  Naturalist, 
vol.  i,  p.  1 80).  Mr.  F.  Guthrie,  a  gentleman  who  resided  for 
many  years  in  the  Cameroons,  and  who  was  on  intimate  terms 
with  native  hunters,  collected  their  evidence  in  a  very  careful 
manner,  and  checked  it  by  the  testimonies  of  various  tribes. 
The  gorilla  of  the  Cameroons,*  he  states,  'live  in  small  com- 
panies, scarcely  to  be  called  families.  The  smaller  companies 
consist  of  one  male  with  his  one,  two  or  three  wives,  and  some 
small  children*  (A.  E.  Jenks,  "Bulu  Knowledge  of  the  Gorilla 
and  Chimpanzee/*  The  American  Anthropologist,  N.  S.  xii% 


1*  THEMAKINGOFMAN 

pp.  52  seq.).  Herr  G.  Zenker  saw  one  male  accompanied  by 
several  females  and  young.  Von  Gertzen  describes  the  traces  of 
a  troop  which,  he  says,  must  have  consisted  of  about  ten  in- 
dividuals (Brehm-Strassen,  Tierleben,  1920,  vol.  xiii,  pp.  684 
seq.).  Grenfell  found  gorillas  in  parties  (H.  H.  Johnson,  George 
Grenfell  and  the  Congo,  p.  344).  Captain  Dominick  found  the 
gorilla  in  the  Cameroons  in  much  larger  troops;  according  to 
him,  *the  gorilla  in  the  Cameroons  is  a  thoroughly  gregarious 
animal,  and,  as  with  the  baboon,  several  adult  males  are  found 
in  each  troop'  (T.  Zell,  "Das  Einfangen  ausgewachsener  Goril- 
las," Die  Gartenlaube,  1907,  p.  880).  Mr.  T.  A.  Barns  has  also 
found  the  gorillas  in  the  eastern  Congo  living  in  large  troops 
consisting  of  'quite  a  number  of  gorillas,'  each  troop  including 
at  least  two  females  with  several  young  of  varying  ages  (T.  A. 
Barns,  The  Wonderland  of  the  Eastern  Congo,  pp.  84  seq.). 
Mr.  Akeley  found  gorillas  in  polygamous  bands  (C.  E.  Akeley, 
Jn  Brightest  Africa,  p.  247). 

"As  will  be  seen,  our  present  information  entirely  disposes  of 
any  supposition  as  to  monogamous  habits  among  gorillas.  Other 
stories  concerning  the  animal  have  likewise  become  relegated 
lo  their  proper  sphere.  No  instance  has  been  reported  of  a  male 
gorilla  defending  his  'family.'  The  animal  is  most  fierce  and 
'Jangerous  not  when  in  the  company  of  females  and  young,  but 
when  solitary;  old,  solitary  gorillas  are  the  only  ones  that  have 
been  known  to  attack  man  unprovoked"  (Duke  A.  F.  von 
Mecklenburg-Strelitz,  From  the  Congo  to  the  Niger  and  the 
Nile,  vol.  ii,  p.  106). 

I  have  quoted  from  Briffault  at  such  great  length  here 
btcause  the  argument  is  so  important  and  pertinent,  since 
the  apelike  animals,  in  particular  the  gorilla,  have  been  used 
by  every  variety  of  scholar  following  Westermarck  to  illus- 
trate the  monogamous  instincts  of  our  simian  progenitors. 
But  we  know,  for  instance,  that  T.  S.  Savage  and  J.  Wyman, 
A.  E.  Brehm,  and  Duke  A.  F.  von  Mecklenburg-Strelitz, 
have  all  attested  to  the  chimpanzee's  non-monogamous  hab- 
its. The  same  abundance  of  evidence  is  present  in  reference 
to  the  absence  of  monogamy  among  the  gibbons  and  orang- 
utangs.  In  other  words,  the  manlike  apes  are  not  monoga- 


INTRODUCTION  1 3 

mous.  Why  did  Westermarck,  then,  claim  that  the  gorilla 
was  monogamous,  and  that  monogamy  prevailed  almost  ex- 
clusively "among  the  menlike  apes"?  Because  certain  of 
the  evidence  that  we  possess  to-day  was  lacking  when  he 
originally  wrote  his  History  of  Human  Marriage?  Not  at 
all.  At  the  very  time  that  he  was  at  work  on  his  thesis  evi- 
dence existed  to  prove  that  the  gorilla  was  polygamous — or 
promiscuous — rather  than  monogamous.  It  is  true  that  still 
more  evidence  has  been  collected  since  then,  which  has  made 
Westermarck  effect  certain  modifications  in  his  statements 
about  gorillas  in  later  editions  of  his  work.  But  why  should 
he  originally  have  argued  for  the  monogamous  habits  of 
the  gorilla — and  for  the  anthropoid  apes  in  general — when 
the  evidence  leaned  in  the  opposite  direction,  or  at  best  was 
highly  uncertain  ?  *  The  only  answer  is  the  one  which  we 
have  given.  Influenced  by  the  middle-class  culture  of  his 
day,  and  the  necessity  of  defending  its  institutions  by  every 
device  of  logic,  his  mind  reverted  to  that  evidence  which 
tended  to  justify  those  institutions,  and  endow  them  with 
a  natural  origin  and  continuity.  Morgan  and  his  followers, 
equally  a  part  of  that  culture,  did  not  seek  such  defenses, 
as  we  pointed  out  before,  for  their  doctrines  in  themselves 
did  not  assail  the  institutions  of  their  day.  On  the  contrary, 
the  so-called  evolutionary  anthropologists,  like  Spencer,  were 
convinced  that  monogamy  was  the  ultimate  in  ethical 
progress,  and,  therefore,  needed  no  defense  or  protection. 
It  was  the  rising  influence  of  the  radical  critics,  who  used 
Morgan's  doctrine  as  a  revolutionary  weapon,  as  we  noted 
earlier  in  this  analysis,  that  had  to  be  rebutted.  The  History 
of  Human  Marriage  provided  just  this  rebuttal.  If  it  could 
prove,  as  it  essayed  to  do,  that  the  "apelike  animals"  were 
monogamous,  then  it  had  already  established  its  case,  namely, 
that  of  the  existence  of  a  "monogamous  instinct"  and,  there- 
fore, a  natural  tendency  to  monogamy  in  all  the  higher 
species.  It  was  thus  that  the  prevailing  institutions^  could 
be  protected  and  the  enemies  of  civilization,  that  is  ot 
nineteenth  century  civilization,  confuted  and  destroyed 


£4  THEMAKINGOFMAN 

It  is  not  surprising,  therefore,  that  Westermarck,  in  his 
zeal,  distorted  evidence  out  of  all  proportion,  and  threw  his 
whole  emphasis,  to  the  exclusion  of  all  contradictions,  upon 
those  materials  which  tended  to  prove  his  case.  In  trying 
to  show  that  even  among  the  lower  animals  sexual  unions 
assume  "a  more  durable  character,"  resembling  that  of 
marriage,  and  foreshadowing  the  later  development  of  the 
family,  he  makes  actual  citations  from  Brehm  which  seem  to 
illustrate  his  contention.  He  notes,  among  the  animals  evinc- 
ing this  tendency,  the  whale,  the  seal,  the  hippopotamus, 
the  reindeer,  "a  few  cats  and  martens,"  and  "possibly  the 
wolf."  Upon  careful  examination  of  his  material,2  however, 
it  becomes  clear  at  once  that  he  has  again  garbled  facts  and 
exaggerated  evidences.  Whales,  as  Brehm  himself  stated, 
and  Westermarck  used  Brehm  as  his  main  support,  do  not 
reveal  monogamous  tendencies — nor,  as  far  as  present  evi- 
dence shows,  do  seals,  reindeer,  cats,  or  wolves.  Brehm's 
evidence  as  to  the  tendency  toward  monogamy  among  hip- 
popotami is  contradicted  by  that  of  every  other  observer. 
Despite  these  facts,  Westermarck's  statement  about  these 
animals  was  uncritically  accepted  by  most  of  his  contem- 
poraries during  the  generation  that  followed. 

Again  we  are  driven  to  the  conclusion  that  it  was  because 
his  doctrines  supplied  a  need  of  the  time,  a  protection  against 
those  doctrines  that  threatened  middle-class  supremacy  in 
the  field  of  ethics  and  economics,  that  they  became  at  once 
part  of  the  cultural  defense  of  the  era. 

Let  us  turn  for  a  moment  to  another  aspect  of  his  thesis, 
wherein  he  states  that  "the  family,  not  the  tribe,  formed  the 
nucleus  of  every  social  group,  and,  in  many  cases,  was  itself 
perhaps  the  only  social  group."  Here  Westermarck  has 
trimmed  down  his  thesis  to  its  fundamental  point.  The 
family,  and  not  the  group,  or  the  tribe,  is  the  basic  unit 
of  primitive  society.  As  in  the  case  of  the  animals,  the  same 
justificatory  mechanisms  are  operative  here.  If  the  family 
and  not  the  group  provides  the  unit  structure  of  social 
organization,  then  it  follows  that  the  family  is  an  inde- 


INTRODUCTION  IJ 

structible  part  of  social  life.  Destroy  the  family  and  social 
life  is  ended.  Or,  expressed  in  an  antipodal  vein,  since 
social  life  cannot  be  destroyed,  the  family  must  always  re- 
main. And  again,  in  order  to  fortify  his  case,  Westermarck 
has  abused  both  evidence  and  observation.  Among  the 
Yakut,  for  example,  there  is  no  word  for  the  concept  of 
family,  the  clan  having  so  absorbed  all  forms  of  relationship, 
Moreover,  it  is  a  well-known  fact  that  among  many  primitive 
groups,  the  so-called  husband  and  wife  are  not  allowed  to 
live  together,  and  hence  the  development  of  the  family, 
as  Westermarck  envisions,  could  only  follow  and  not  pre- 
cede such  a  custom.  Among  the  peoples  of  the  Banks  Islands, 
the  New  Hebrides,  in  Northern  Papua,  New  Caledonia,  to 
cite  instances,  family-organization  does  not  exist.  Kindred 
relationships  obtain,  but  they  cannot  be  described  in  the 
same  terms  as  we  describe  the  family,  or  as  Westermaick 
describes  it,  in  which  a  male  and  female  and  their  progeny 
act  as  the  center  of  social  organization.  In  fact  among  almost 
all  early  primitive  groups  it  is  "love  of  the  clan  [which]  is 
greater  than  love  between  husband  and  wife."  Indeed,  the 
very  submergence  of  the  individual  within  the  group  made 
the  dominance  of  the  family  impossible  in  primitive  times. 
More  than  that,  the  absence  of  the  knowledge  of  paternity 
certainly  did  not  strengthen  family-organization  at  the  ex- 
pense of  social.  In  addition,  the  superiority  of  sister-brother 
love  over  wife-husband  love,  evidenced  in  many  tribes  and 
among  many  peoples,  finding  a  striking  illustration  as  late 
as  in  Sophocles*  play  Antigone,  is  but  further  proof  of  the 
fallacy  of  the  Westermarckian  thesis.  In  fact,  as  Briflault  has 
pointed  out  in  great  detail,  the  organization  of  the  family- 
group  is  "found  to  stand  in  direct  conflict  with  the  primal 
social  impulses  of  humanity  in  its  simpler  stages,  and  to 
be  in  sharp  opposition  to  the  primitive  organization  which 
it  has  tended  to  break  up."  Family-organization  is  by  it? 
very  nature,  when  it  assumes  a  patriarchal  form,  individual 
istic  instead  of  social  in  character.  Consequently,  it  is  highly 
unlikely  that  primitive  man  could  ever  have  effected  his 


l6  THEMAKINGOFMAN 

early  social  organization  upon  a  familial  basis.  At  all  events, 
whatever  information  we  have  to-day  concerning  the  origins 
of  social  organization  does  not  confirm  Westermarck's  thesis. 
On  the  contrary,  it  tends  to  weaken  it,  and,  on  the  whole, 
to  destroy  it. 

Nevertheless,  Westermarck's  theory  has  been  swallowed 
in  toto  by  our  social  scientists.  What  does  this  illustrate,  then, 
we  ask  once  more?  Simply  the  fact  that  our  social  scientists 
are  not  interested  in  objective  facts,  but  in  theses  that  will 
justify  existing  attitudes  and  institutions. 

Nor  do  we  find  an  exception  in  Westermarck's  attempt 
to  carry  the  family-thesis  further,  and  show  that  its  origins 
among  humans  were  monogamic.  The  social  scientists  have 
been  just  as  gullible  here  as  before.  In  the  light  of  what  is 
known  to-day,  I  am  guilty  of  no  hyperbole  when  I  say  that 
few  more  inaccurate  conclusion^  in  the  social  sciences  have 
ever  been  drawn  than  that  which  is  to  be  found  in  Wester- 
marck's contention  that  it  is  probable  "that  monogamy  pre- 
vailed almost  exclusively  among  our  earliest  ancestors."  We 
have  already  seen  how  inaccurate  Westermarck's  conclusions 
were  about  the  monogamous  habits  of  higher  animals.  And 
when  we  turn  to  his  third  proposition — of  monogamy  among 
our  earliest  ancestors — we  are  confronted  again  with  the 
same  kind  of  inaccuracies  and  misinterpretations.8  (Cf.  the 
long  analysis  from  Briffault's  The  Mothers  in  this  footnote.) 
In  many  cases  Westermarck  used  evidence  that  was  con- 
tradicted by  other  evidences,  more  numerous  and  more 
authentic  than  his  own,  without  ever  mentioning  the  con- 
troversial nature  of  the  material.  His  frequent  recourse  to 
the  observations  and  comments  of  Jesuit  fathers  and  mis- 
sionaries instead  of  to  other  sources  when  other  sources 
were  available  is  but  another  index  to  the  nature  of  his 
outlook  and  method.  Wherever  Christian  influences  crept 
primitive  customs  changed,  especially  where  conversions 
were  frequent,  and  even  where  the  Christian  influence  made 
little  advance,  the  observations  of  the  Christian  missionaries 
were  usually  of  a  kind  that  tended  to  interpret  primitive 


INTRODUCTION  IJ 

culture  in  terms  of  Christian  morality  rather  than  in  term? 
of  the  mores  of  the  tribe  itself.  Even  where  Westermarck 
actually  discovered  tribal  monogamy,  he  refused  to  see  it  in 
relationship  with  poverty  as  a  cause,  a  connection  that  was 
obvious  to  almost  all  other  observers,  but  insisted  upon  in- 
terpreting it  as  an  evidence  of  the  "monogamous  instinct." 
His  contention,  for  instance,  that  polygamy  and  polyandry 
tend  to  revert  to  monogamy,  loses  all  its  meaning  when  we 
realize  that  in  the  history  of  most  primitive  groups  th^ 
tendency  to  monogamy  invariably  sets  in  whenever  economic 
conditions  are  on  the  decline.  In  other  words,  the  so-called 
reversion  to  monogamy  does  not  arise  out  of  a  "monogamous 
instinct"  but  out  of  an  economic  condition.  The  very  fact 
that  Westermarck  neglects  almost  entirely  the  latter  factor, 
and  Its  importance  as  a  basic  causation,  reveals  the  weakness 
in  his  analysis.  And  furthermore,  the  fact  that  for  every 
monogamous  tribe  that  he  could  adduce  there  were  many 
more  examples  of  non-monogamous,  illustrated  the  un- 
tenableness  and  absurdity  of  his  thesis.  Marriage  in  many 
primitive  communities,  we  should  remember,  resembles  so 
little  marriage  'as  we  with  our  modern  categories  of  con* 
sciousness  conceive  it  that  it  is  practically  a  misnomer  to 
use  the  same  word  to  describe  both  conditions.  Among  the 
aboriginal  tribes  of  Malaya,  for  example,  individuals  often 
marry  forty  or  fifty  times;  the  Cherokee-Iroquois  "commonly 
changed  wives  three  or  four  times  a  year";  among  the 
Hurons,  "women  (were)  purchased  by  the  night,  week, 
month  or  winter."  Now,  while  in  a  certain  loose  sense  you 
may  describe  all  these  relationships  as  marital,  there  is  a 
great  danger  of  misapprehension  in  this  type  of  nomencla- 
ture. It  would  be  a  highly  intelligent  procedure  if  we  coined 
a  new  word  for  our  anthropological  vocabulary  so  that  this 
kind  of  confusion  could  not  occur.  Especially  is  this  con- 
fusion pronounced  in  the  case  of  monogamy.  And  Wester- 
marck, by  way  of  his  loose  definition,  confuses  rather  than 
clarifies  the  nature  of  these  relationships  by  applying  our 


l8  THEMAKINGOFMAN 

concept  to  practices  that  have  very  faint  resemblances  in 
our  culture  at  all.  There  is  certainly  a  distinct  difference  be- 
tween the  attitude  of  a  primitive  people  who  has  been 
forced  to  monogamy  by  economic  pressure,  and  as  soon  as 
prosperity  sets  in,  as  in  the  case  of  its  kings  and  chiefs,  will 
revert  to  polygyny,  and  that  of  a  civilized  community  which 
has  adopted  monogamy  as  an  institution,  and  has  set  up  a 
score  of  psychological  devices  to  justify  it  as  an  evidence 
of  progress.  In  the  case  of  the  primitive  people  the  condition 
obviously  is  one  of  necessity  and  not  of  choice;  in  the  case 
of  the  civilized  community  the  condition  assumes  the  aspect 
of  choice  and  not  of  necessity.  Even  though  we  know  that 
monogamy  among  civilized  communities  had  its  main 
origins  likewise  in  economics,  strengthened  by  a  religion 
closely  conjoined  with  economic  tendency,  the  cultural  de- 
fenses erected  in  recent  centuries  have  successfully  obscured 
that  origin  and  made  the  institution  seem  to  be  the  result 
of  cultural  choice,  a  testimony  to  advance  in  civilized  be- 
havior and  cultural  wisdom.  This  "seeming  to  be,"  this  cul- 
tural camouflage,  has  been  so  effective,  however,  that  until 
recent  days  this  attitude  toward  monogamy  was  viewed  as 
fundamental  and  not  derivative.  Westermarck  nowhere 
notes  these  differences  in  attitude  between  monogamy  as 
practiced  by  a  primitive  and  by  a  civilized  group,  nor  does 
lie  anywhere  interpret  monogamy  in  the  Christian  world  as 
the  result  of  an  environmental  rather  than  an  innate 
spiritual  fact. 

The  wholesale  manner  in  which  the  altogether  inexten- 
sive  and  dubious  evidence  of  Westermarck  was  adopted  by 
scientists  in  every  field:  biological,  psychological,  sociologi- 
cal, was  the  best  proof  of  the  fact  that  the  evidence  was  of 
more  than  purely  theoretic  value.  Even  to-day  this  manner 
of  adoption  has  not  entirely  ceased.  No  less  distinguished 
a  biologist  than  Herbert  Spencer  Jennings,  for  example,  in 
his  essay  on  The  Biological  Basis  of  The  Family,  writes  as 
follows: 


INTRODUCTION  ig 

"The  tendency  toward  a  permanent  cooperative  life  career  on 
the  part  of  two  parents  is  powerfully  reenforced  by  the  long 
period  of  dependence  of  the  young.  .  .  . 

"There  is  no  time  when  the  two  parents  can  separate  with- 
out breaking  in  upon  the  functions  they  have  undertaken  in 
relation  to  the  young.  Such  is  the  situation  we  find  in  the 
higher  anthropoids,  the  orang,  and  the  gorilla;  such  is  the 
situation  found  at  its  highest  development  in  man.  .  .  .  Mar- 
riage is  life-long,  even  though  the  care  of  the  offspring  is  not. 
Permanent  monogamous  marriage  has  arisen  independently 
through  similar  functional  requirements,  in  the  mammals  and 
the  birds;  the  biological  needs  giving  origin  to  it  being  much 
the  more  numerous  and  powerful  in  the  higher  mammals." 

But  the  citations  do  not  stop  here.  Jennings  is  quoted  in  this 
reference  by  a  score  of  other  authorities,  anxious  to  prove  the 
same  point,  and  as  always  Westermarck  is  brought  in  to 
give  the  touch  of  final  authority.  The  late  Thomas  Walton 
Galloway,  another  well-known  biologist,  in  an  article  on 
Monogamic  Marriage  and  Mating,  points  out  that  "the 
trends  in  both  (men  and  animals)  have  been  toward  per- 
manent as  against  temporary  relations  of  the  mates  and 
toward  monogamous  as  against  promiscuous  or  polvgamous 
unions."  In  a  recent  study  entitled  Twenty-jour  Views  of 
Marriage,  for  example,  both  Jennings  and  Westermarck  are 
alluded  to  upon  frequent  occasions.  In  the  concluding  pages 
of  the  study  such  passages  as  these  appear: 

"That  monogamy  is  the  basic  form  of  human  marriage  is 
recognized  by  most  anthropologists.  As  Professor  Jennings 
said  before  the  Conference  on  Family  Life  in  America  To-day  at 
Buffalo  in  1927,  'the  monogamous  family,  with  life-long  union 
of  the  mates,  appears  as  the  final  term  in  a  long  evolutionary 
series!' " 

"Westermarck  in  his  Short  History  of  Marriage  says  that 
monogamy  is  the  only  form  of  marriage  that  is  permitted  among 
every  people." 

Similar  quotations  can  be  found  in  almost  any  social 
science  text  that  one  opens  to-day.  Our  whole  intellectual 


20  THEMAKINGOFMAN 

culture  in  fact  is  permeated  with  the  same  attitude,  the  same 
conviction.  It  is  part  of  the  prevailing  ideology. 

Now  if  this  attitude  were  the  product  alone  of  some  myth, 
some  religious  belief  harking  back  into  an  antediluvian  past, 
one  might  interpret  it  as  an  illustration  of  a  cultural  lag, 
and  classify  it  with  such  phenomena.  But  such  is  not  the  case, 
for  science  rather  than  religion,  as  we  have  seen,  has  been 
its  main  support  in  recent  generations.  And  not  only  Wester- 
marck  and  Jennings  have  been  conspicuous  in  its  defense. 
Almost  every  modern  anthropologist — the  exceptions  have 
been  very  few  and  without  influence — has  rallied  to  its  sup- 
port. Malinowski,  Thomas,  Lowie,  for  instance,  have  all 
lent  their  aid  to  the  cause. 

If  we  look  a  little  more  closely  at  the  arguments  of  these 
men,  we  shall  be  able  to  discern,  in  a  more  definite  way,  the 
nature  of  the  defense-mechanism  at  work  in  their  logic. 
Malinowski  is  not  less  guilty  than  Westermarck  or  Jen- 
nings in  his  conclusions  about  the  sexual  life  of  the  primates 
and  primitive  man.  In  his  volume  on  Sex  and  Repression  in 
Savage  Society,  he  states  that  the  family  is  the  only  type  of 
grouping  that  man  has  carried  over  from  the  animal  stage. 
Not  only  docs  he  thus  assume  that  the  family  existed  among 
the  primates,  but  continuing  this  logic,  he  goes  further  and, 
in  line  with  Westermarck,  denies  the  possible  existence 
of  a  period  of  sexual  promiscuity,  in  which  gregariousness 
antedated  the  familial  state.  Indeed  he  goes  so  far  as  to  say 
that  "no  type  of  human  organization  can  be  traced  back  to 
gregarious  tendencies."  It  was  the  family,  then,  in  his 
opinion,  and  not  the  group,  which  served  as  the  creative 
continuum  of  culture.  In  keeping  with  this  contention,  one 
of  his  main  suppositions  is  that  man  thus  could  have  in- 
herited from  his  ancestors  among  the  primates  the  tendency 
lo  live  in  families  but  not  in  the  form  of  the  promiscuous 
Horde.  All  this,  as  is  obvious,  is  in  agreement  with  the 
Westermarckian  contentions  which  we  have  discussed  and 
only  adds  further  strength  to  the  arguments  of  Jennings  and 
the  social  scientists  in  general. 


INTRODUCTION  21 

An  examination  of  Malinowski's  position,  however,  re- 
veals the  same  weakness  that  we  found  before  in  that  of 
Westermarck.  While  Malinowski  does  not  stumble  into  the 
same  specific  errors  as  did  his  teacher,  his  general  conclu- 
sions fall  into  the  same  category.  In  his  study:  Some  Ele- 
ments of  Sexual  Behavior  in  Primates  and  Their  Possible 
Influence  on  the  Beginnings  of  Human  Social  Develop- 
ment* Gerrit  S.  Miller,  Jr.,  has  shown  conclusively  that 
"Malinowski's  work  is  all  based  on  widespread  popular  mis- 
conceptions about  the  primates  with  which  man  is  com- 
pared; misconceptions  which  arise  from  wrongly  attributing 
to  these  animals  patterns  of  sexual  behavior  which  are  fa- 
miliar from  observation  of  domestic  ungulates  and  carni- 
vores." Dr.  Miller,  whose  work  in  the.field  of  mammalogy  is 
inexhaustibly  exacting  and  thorough,  then  goes  on  to  show 
by  consideration  of  all  the  known  fncu  about  the  behavior 
of  primates  the  absurdity  of  the  statements  of  this  whole 
school  of  thought.  Instead  of  our  primate  precursors  being 
monogamous,  and  living  in  family  groups,  as  Westermarck, 
Lowie,  and  Jennings  maintained,  Dr.  Miller  points  out  that 
the  exact  opposite  is  the  case.  "The  young  monkey  clings 
to  the  female,"  Dr.  Miller  writes,  "and  can  be  adequate!) 
reared  by  her  sole  administrations;  the  help  of  the  male  is 
not  required,  and  I  have  not  been  able  to  find  convincing 
evidence  that  a  true  family  bond  is  established."  But  mam- 
malogists,  who  are  certainly  in  a  better  position  to  observe 
the  sexual  behavior  of  mammals  than  are  anthropologists 
or  social  scientists,  not  only  deny  the  existence  of  monogamy 
among  the  apes;  they  even  go  so  far  as  to  show  the  presence 
of  promiscuous  horde  tendencies  among  them  instead  of  the 
familial  ones  referred  to  by  Westermarck  and  his  followers. 
Dr.  Miller's  words  in  reference  to  this  point  are  very  im- 
portant: 

"When  we  look  into  the  life  histories  of  the  Old  World 
monkeys  and  apes  as  revealed  by  field  studies  we  find  that 
existence  in  loosely  organized  bands  is  the  general  rule.  This 


12  THEMAKINGOFMAN 

type  of  association  is  well  known  to  occur  in  gibbons,  baboons, 
macaques,  langurs,  proboscis,  monkeys,  gnemons,  and  guerezas. 
Apparently  the  same  is  true  of  the  great  apes,  and  though  the 
difficulty  of  making  exact  observations  on  these  animals  in  their 
nature  haunts  has  interfered  with  the  collecting  of  reliable  evi- 
dence, nothing  that  I  have  been  able  to  find  in  print  concerning 
the  behavior  of  any  non-human  primate,  cither  monkey  or  great 
ape,  would  justify  the  assumption  that  the  sexual  tendencies  of 
the  members  of  a  free  band  in  the  forest  differ  essentially  from 
those  which  Dr.  Hamilton  observed  in  his  macaques  roving  at 
large  among  the  live  oaks  at  Montecito  (i.e.,  promiscuity). 
Life  in  sexually  promiscuous  bands  can,  therefore,  not  be  dis- 
missed from  the  possibilities  of  ancestral  human  conditions  as 
the  basis  of  f^nown  evidence  derived  from  the  habits  of  pri- 
mates in  general.  On  the  contrary  the  common  possession  by 
men  and  monkeys  of  a  type  of  sexual  behavior  which  perfectly 
harmonizes  with  the  need  of  promiscuous  life  throws  a  heavy 
burden  of  proof  on  those  who  insist  that  the  forerunners  of 
existing  men  lived  under  a  group  formation  totally  different 
from  that  which  appears  to  be  the  prevalent  one  among  non- 
human  primates.  Furthermore,  when  human  sexual  behavior  is 
looked  at  as  it  is  and  not  as  it  is  conventionally  supposed  to  be, 
We  have  little  difficulty  in  detecting  beneath  the  surface  of  the 
cultural  structure  unmistakable  traces  of  the  framework  of  the 
promiscuous  horde." 

We  are  now  in  a  position  to  see  the  necessity  for  an  entire 
revaluation  of  the  old  point  of  view  concerning  the  origin 
of  human  tendencies  and  institutions.  Man  is  not  as  radi- 
cally different  from  the  animals 5  as  we  have  been  all  too 
prone  to  conclude.  Human  tendencies  not  only  go  bacl{  far 
beyond  the  family;  they  extend  to  the  simian  horde.  As  Dr. 
Gerrit  Miller  declares  in  another  part  of  his  study,  "it  seems 
reasonable  to  believe  that  a  state  of  simian  horde  life  with 
its  attendant  sexual  promiscuity  lies  somewhere  in  the  an- 
cestry of  the  human  social  systems  which  exist  to-day."  To 
understand  man,  therefore,  which  is  the  obvious  task  of 
anthropology,  we  need  to  consider,  without  evasion  or 
euphemism,  the  ante-human  and  primitive  impulses  and 


INTRODUCTION  23 

motivations  which  governed  his  behavior.  We  can  never  do 
that  if  we  insist  upon  trying  to  make  him  behave  as  we 
think  a  primitive  gentleman  should. 

Now,  what  is  apparent  from  these  criticisms,  and  those 
that  preceded,  is  that  the  whole  Westermarckian  superstruc- 
ture of  moral  ideas  has  no  foundation  in  fact  at  all.  It  is 
wish-fulfillment  thought,  superimposed  upon  an  anthropo- 
logical edifice.  It  was  so  widely  accepted  for  just  that  reason. 
The  social  sciences  have  always  been  prone  to  accept  such 
protective  logic.  In  the  days  when  laissez-faire  was  orthodox 
theory,  economists  and  sociologists  were  its  uncritical  ad- 
vocates; only  to-day,  when  laissez-faire  has  lost  its  influence, 
do  economists  and  sociologists  criticize  and  at  times  cease 
to  defend  it.  Only  the  breakdown  of  a  principle  or  an  insti- 
tution maf(es  it  possible  for  its  former  advocates  to  view  it 
objectively.  For  that  reason,  and  that  reason  mainly,  it  has 
been  possible  for  the  reaction  against  Westermarck  to  gain 
force  and  momentum  to-day.  The  complete  breakdown  of 
nineteenth  century  ethics  and  economics,  hastened  as  it  was 
by  the  World  War,  shattered  the  middle-class  myth  of  per- 
fection. The  absolutistic  concept  of  evolution  had  to  be 
abandoned.  And,  as  a  consequence,  the  relativistic  concept 
has  steadily  gained  in  power.  The  development  of  the  rela- 
tivity concept  in  the  physical  sciences  no  doubt  has  con- 
tributed to  this  change  in  emphasis  also  in  the  social  sciences. 

But  this  does  not  mean  that  anthropologists  and  social 
scientists  will  have  to  go  back  to  Morgan  now  for  their 
materials  and  interpretations.  Just  the  contrary!  Morgan's 
evolutionary  theories,  as  we  indicated  in  an  earlier  section 
cf  this  essay,  can  no  longer  be  defended  either.  Not  that 
Morgan  was  not  much  closer  to  the  truth  than  Westermarck 
in  his  conclusions  about  the  nature  of  morality  and  marriage 
in  primitive  society.  He  was.  But  we  cannot  say,  as  he  did. 
that  the  marital  institution  passed  through  certain  stages 
definitely  evolved  out  of  certain  others  in  the  history  of 
every  tribe.  The  existence  of  sexual  communism  among  a 
certain  number  of  tribes  does  not  furnish  us  with  sufficient 


24  THEMAKINGOFMAN 

evidence  to  make  a  sweeping  deduction  about  the  entire 
history  of  early  mankind.  No  more  than  the  existence  of 
monogamy  among  certain  primitive  tribes  provided  Wester- 
marck  with  enough  material  to  draw  the  illation  that  our 
early  ancestors  were  almost  universally  inclined  to  monoga- 
mous habits.  If  we  have  enough  evidence  to  show  that  the 
family,  as  we  think  of  it,  could  not  possibly  have  functioned 
in  the  early  stages  of  social  organization,  or  even  have 
developed  in  such  stages,  we  do  not  have  enough  evidence 
to  trace  adequately  the  development  of  sexual  relations 
through  any  precise  evolutionary  stages,  common  to  al! 
primitive  groups.  In  other  words,  there  are  more  things 
that  can  be  said  not  to  be  true  about  primitive  life  as  a  whole 
than  there  are  things  that  can  be  said  to  be  true.  Morgan's 
error  lay  in  not  recognizing  that  fact.  He  found  many  things 
that  were  true  in  particular  but  not  true  in  general.  His 
weakness,  intensified  by  the  dogmas  of  the  evolutionary 
school,  grew  out  of  his  attempt  to  make  the  two  synonymous. 
Now,  what  conclusions  can  be  drawn  from  this  analysis 
of  anthropological  doctrine?  It  is  at  this  point  that  I  want 
to  advance  a  theory  that  will  explain,  I  believe,  what  has 
happened  in  terms  of  sociological  fact.  This  theory,  in  brief, 
endeavors  to  elucidate  the  conflict  that  has  been  described 
(between  Wcstermarck  and  Morgan)  as  an  expression  of 
those  social  forces  which  tend  to  develop  what  I  shall  call 
cultural  compulsives — or  a  vested  interest  in  a  cultural  com- 
plex. The  influence  of  the  milieu  is  at  work  in  the  formu- 
lation of  all  doctrines  and  interpretations,  but  its  presence 
can  be  seen  more  easily  and  obviously  in  the  nature  of  the 
response  to  these  doctrines  and  interpretations  than  in  the 
nature  of  their  origin.  In  other  words  it  is  the  response  to 
Westermarck's  doctrine  that  is  more  important  from  a  so- 
ciological point  of  view  than  their  origin.  The  same  is  true 
of  the  doctrines  of  Morgan.  The  response  to  the  doctrines 
of  both  of  these  men  became  a  living,  dynamic  thing,  as 
much  a  part  of  the  prevailing  culture  as  a  political  election 
or  a  scientific  invention.  The  accuracy  or  inaccuracy  of  their 


INTRODUCTION  25 

theories  was  unimportant  beside  the  influence  they  exerted 
over  their  own  field  and  the  field  of  the  social  sciences  in 
general.  This  influence  was  a  direct  result  of  this  response — 
a  response  that  revealed  the  social  meaning  implicit  in  the 
doctrines  as  a  whole. 

The  radicals  had  not  seized  upon  the  doctrines  of  Morgan 
because  they  represented  the  final  word  in  anthropological 
science.  They  adopted  them  because  they  fitted  in  so  well 
with  their  own  doctrine  of  social  evolution,  with  the  triadic 
theory  of  thesis,  antithesis,  and  synthesis,  and  lent  themselves 
so  excellently  to  the  Marxian  interpretation  of  culture  as  an 
economic  unit.  They  supplied  a  historic  illustration  of  the 
Marxian  dialectic.  They  gave  new  historic  meaning  to  ihe 
cause  of  the  proletariat.  Westermarck's  doctrines,  on  the  other 
hand,  were  adopted  in  the  same  way  by  the  intellectuals 
of  middle-class  conviction.  Westermarck's  doctrines  fitted  in 
so  well  with  the  moral  ideals  of  the  middle  class.  They  af- 
forded a  so-called  scientific  justification  of  middle-class 
mores.  Hence  their  adoption  by  middle-class  intellectuals, 
and  their  rejection  by  radical  intellectuals,  and  hence  their 
popularity  in  universities  and  with  university  professors  and 
Aheir  lack  of  popularity  in  radical  centers. 

In  both  cases  we  have  a  clear  illustration  of  a  cultural 
compulsive.  Class  factors  were  at  work  as  an  obvious  de- 
terminant. Westermarck  was  so  uncritically  accepted  by  the 
middle-class  intellectuals  because  his  work  provided  a  de- 
fense of  middle-class  ethics.  Morgan  was  so  uncritically 
accepted  by  the  radical  intellectuals,  Engels,  Kautsky,  Ple- 
chanov,  because  his  work  supplied  the  dynamite  for  the 
fortification  of  the  proletarian  position.  Once  accepted  thus, 
Westermarck  and  Morgan  became  immediate  authorities  for 
the  classes  whose  logic  their  doctrines  defended.  The  work 
of  each  man  became  a  cultural  compulsive — the  cultural 
compulsive  being  determined  by  the  class  factors  involved. 
The  work  of  neither  man,  as  a  result,  could  be  viewed  ob- 
jectively. As  in  the  case  of  all  cultural  drives,  the  emotive 
aspect  overrode' the  intellectual.  Criticism  of  either  man  wa* 


26  THEMAKINGOFMAN 

reserved  for  his  enemies  and  not  his  followers.  The  presence 
of  the  vested  interest  factor  blinded  both  sides  to  the  weak- 
nesses in  their  authority.  The  motive  element  involved  pre- 
cluded the  kind  of  scientific  analysis  which  was  needed  for 
the  classes  whose  logic  their  doctrines  defended.  The  work 
of  each  man  thus  became  a  rallying  point  for  a  cultural 
Compulsive,  and  not  an  objective  contribution  to  social 
science.  It  was  removed  from  the  sphere  of  abstract  science 
into  the  field  of  living  culture.  Westermarck's  superior  in- 
fluence was  not  due  to  any  intrinsic  superiority  of  logic,  but 
to  the  fact  that  the  middle-class  advocates  he  immediately 
won  were  connected  mainly  with  universities  and  other  in- 
stitutions of  learning,  while  those  who  upheld  Morgan, 
being  radicals,  had  no  such  connections.  Westermarck  domi- 
nated the  scene  because  all  the  educators,  being  middle-class, 
supported  his  doctrine.  In  this  way,  his  work  became  a 
cultural  compulsive — a  cultural  compulsive  of  the  middle 
class. 

But  it  should  not  be  thought  that  the  radicals  did  not  let 
their  thought  be  equally  bound  by  the  vested  interest  factor 
only  in  the  direction  of  an  opposite  cultural  compulsive. 
Morgan  became  as  inviolable  with  them  as  Westermarck 
with  the  middle  class.  Any  one  who  criticized  Morgan  was 
denounced  as  "bourgeois."  Blinded  by  the  vested  interest 
motivation,  the  radicals  were — and  to  an  extent  still  are — 
as  uncritical  of  Morgan  as  the  middle-class  intellectuals 
were  of  Westermarck.  Here  again  we  have  a  cultural  com- 
pulsive at  work,  exacting  affirmation  at  the  expense  of 
criticism. 

As  we  stated  before,  such  affirmation  is  weakened  only 
when  the  principles  and  institutions  affirmed  have  begun 
to  break  down  and  decay.  If  middle-class  morals  had  not 
started  to  disintegrate  with  marked  rapidity  after  the  World 
War,  and  the  family  gone  through  a  process  of  unprece- 
dented change,  equivalent  almost  to  a  revolution,  Wester- 
marck's ideas  would  never  have  been  challenged  in  recent 
years.  Briff auk's  criticisms  of  Westermarck's  doctrines  might 


INTRODUCTION  2J 

have  been  appreciated  by  a  few,  that  is,  if  they  had  been 
written  at  all — but  they  would  never  have  gained  any  vogue. 
Only  the  general  decay  of  middle-class  moral  doctrine  and 
economic  theory  could  have  prepared  the  way  for  the  weak- 
ening and  passing  of  Westermarck's  influence  in  the  social 
sciences  in  general,  and  in  anthropology  in  particular. 

In  conclusion,  I  should  like  to  add,  that  there  is  no  other 
way,  as  far  as  I  know,  of  explaining  idea-sets  or  fixations  of 
a  social  character  such  as  are  represented  in  the  influence  of 
Westermarck  and  Morgan,  than  by  resort  to  what  I  have 
called  the  theory  of  cultural  compulsives.  By  use  of  thi* 
theory  we  are  better  able,  I  believe,  to  understand  something 
of  the  social  mechanism  at  work  in  the  rise  and  fall  of  ideas 
and  their  authors.  It  is  not  what  has  usually  been  called  the 
truth  of  their  doctrine  which  maizes  them  so  powerful,  bul 
their  adaptability  to  other  interests,  class  interests  in  the 
main,  which  they  subserve.  It  is  these  other,  these  more  basic, 
interests  that  turn  these  ideas  into  cultural  compulsives,  in- 
vest them  with  social  meanings  which  are  more  important 
than  their  intrinsic  content. 

Social  history  is  full  of  such  cultural  compulsives.  The- in- 
fluence of  Rousseau  is  just  as  excellent  an  illustration  as  that 
of  Westermarck  or  Morgan.  The  cultural  compulsive  repre- 
sents the  group  interest  in  its  psychological  form.  It  is  a  com- 
pulsive because  the  ideas  it  represents  are  dependent  for 
their  influence  upon  the  strength  of  the  interests  they  repre- 
sent, and  not  upon  the  abstract  accuracy  or  inaccuracy  of 
their  sequence  or  structure.  Its  content,  as  we  stated  before, 
is  more  emotive  than  intellectual.  It  can  be  destroyed  only 
by  the  removal  of  the  interests  which  constitute  its  origin. 
But  since  those  interests  will  be  with  us  until  we  organize 
a  new  kind  of  society  in  which  they  can  no  longer  function, 
and  since  we  are  all  affected  by  those  interests,  however 
objective  we  may  try  to  be,  the  task  that  confronts  us  is  not 
to  deny  the  presence  of  such  cultural  compulsives,  but  to 
attempt  to  keep  them  from  blinding  us  to  facts  that  are  of 
importance  to  our  intellectual  heritage. 


28  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

The  cultural  compulsive  has  had  many  antecedents  in  the 
field  of  social  theory.  The  Marxians  have  been  the  most 
expert  in  this  analysis.  By  use  of  their  radical  dialectic,  they 
were  early  able  to  show  just  how  classes  utilized  ideas  and 
doctrines  for  their  own  protection  and  perpetuation.  In  re- 
cent years,  in  addition  to  the  work  of  the  radicals,  a  number 
of  liberal  sociologists  have  gone  so  far  as  to  argue  for  the 
presence  of  class-factors  in  certain  ideological  mechanisms 
pertaining  to  such  problems  as  race,  neo-malthusianism  and 
eugenics.  They  have  seen  such  mechanisms  as  part  of  a 
rationalization-process.  What  they  have  not  seen — nor  many 
of  the  radicals  either — and  what  is  important,  I  believe, 
to  an  understanding  of  the  nature  of  social  thought,  is  that 
their  own  thought,  as  well  as  the  thought  they  have  analyzed, 
is  governed  just  as  distinctly  by  the  presence  and  pressure 
of  cultural  compulsives.  What  I  am  trying  to  stress,  then, 
by  the  theory  of  cultural  compulsives,  is  that  all  social 
thought  is  colored  by  such  compulsives,  reactionary  as  well 
as  radical,  and  that  those  who  think  they  can  escape  them 
are  merely  deceiving  themselves  by  pursuing  a  path  of 
thought  that  is  socially  fallacious.  The  radical  is  just  as 
caught  by  such  cultural  compulsives  as  the  reactionary.  The 
radical  will  point  out  the  compulsive  thought  on  the  part  of 
the  reactionary  but  will  never  discern  the  same  compulsive 
mechanism,  only  directed  toward  a  different  end,  active  in 
his  own  thought.  The  liberal  sociologist  will  write  about 
ideological  mechanism,  the  influence  of  classes  upon  thought, 
but  always  as  if  he  himself  were  free  of  such  mechanisms 
and  influences.  The  purpose  of  this  analysis  is  to  show  that 
that  is  not  the  case.  The  liberal  sociologist  has  merely  been 
deceived  by  the  myth  of  neutrality — the  belief  that  he  can 
be  above  the  battle,  as  it  were,  aloof  from  the  criss-cross  of 
conflicting  interests.  The  very  fact  that  the  liberal  sociologist 
in  most  instances  is  connected  with  a  university,  and  is  de- 
pendent upon  a  middle-class  environment  for  his  survival, 
is  a  sufficient  reason  why  such  aloofness  in  the  social  sci- 
ences must  of  necessity  rest  upon  false  premise. 


INTRODUCTION  2$ 

The  existence  of  cultural  compulsives,  then,  makes  objec- 
tivity in  the  social  sciences  impossible.  Indeed,  the  actual 
claim  to  objectivity  in  the  social  sciences  has  been  largely 
a  defense-mechanism,  an  attempt  unconsciously  to  cover  up 
the  presence  of  compulsive  factors  and  convictions.  No  mind 
can  be  objective  in  its  interpretation  and  evaluation  of  social 
phenomena.  One  can  be  objective  only  in  the  observation  of 
detail  or  the  collection  of  facts — but  one  cannot  be  objective 
in  their  interpretation.  Interpretation  necessitates  a  mind- 
set, a  purpose,  an  end.  Such  mind-sets,  such  purposes,  such 
ends,  are  controlled  by  cultural  compulsives.  Any  man  living 
in  any  society  imbibes  his  very  consciousness  from  that  so- 
ciety, his  way  of  thought,  his  prejudice  of  vision.  The  class 
he  belongs  to  in  that  society  in  turn  gives  direction  to  his 
thought  and  vision.  It  is  only  in  the  physical  sciences,  where 
his  method  is  quantitative  and  not  comparative,  and  where 
the  issues  do  not  strike  at  the  essential  structure  of  social  life, 
that  he  can  escape  something  of  that  dilemma. 

Cultural  compulsives  are  necessary  to  social  thought. 
Without  them  social  thought  would  lack  unity  and  integra- 
tion, and  become  as  meaningless  as  doctorate  theses  in  the 
weak  "e's"  in  Chaucer.  Anthropology  becomes  of  value 
not  because  it  collects  facts  about  primitive  peoples,  but  be- 
cause those  facts  have  meaning  to  our  civilization.  Anthro- 
pology for  anthropology's  sal(e  is  even  more  absurd  than  art 
for  art's  sake.  And  anthropological  doctrine,  as  we  have  seen, 
is  as  full  of  cultural  compulsives  as  any  other  social  science, 
By  being  aware  of  the  presence  of  cultural  compulsives  we 
are  not  able  to  free  ourselves  from  them — to  do  that  would 
be  to  say  that  the  individual  mind  is  greater  than  the  social 
mind  from  which  it  has  originated  and  by  which  it  is  con- 
trolled— but  we  are  better  able  to  protect  ourselves  from  the 
more  absurd,  because  too  uncritical,  extremes,  that  such 
compulsives  may  drive  us  to.  Those  of  us  who  are  radical 
cannot  expect  to  view  society  from  an  objective  point  of 
view — our  very  objective  makes  such  objectivity  impossible. 
Nor,  for  the  same  reason  can  those  who  are  middle-class 


30  THEMAKINGOFMAN 

view  society  with  any  more  objectivity.  One  can  be  objective 
only  about  those  matters  which  do  not  involve  the  crucial 
issues  of  society,  and  those  are  the  matters  that  are  not  im- 
portant to  social  thought.  At  the  same  time,  however,  the 
radical  can  be  on  his  guard  against  accepting  Morgan,  or  any 
future  Morgan,  unquestioningly  simply  because  he  has  be- 
come part  of  his  cultural  compulsive,  and  the  middle-class 
sociologist  can  be  on  his  guard  against  accepting  Wester- 
marck,  or  any  future  Westermarck,  because  he  has  become 
part  of  his  cultural  compulsive.  In  other  words,  the  aware- 
ness of  the  compulsive  nature  of  social  thought  should  make 
it  possible  for  the  development  of  a  little  more  flexibility  and 
a  little  more  criticism  within  the  radius  of  the  cultural  com- 
pulsive itself. 

After  all,  knowledge  has  come  in  the  social  sciences 
through  the  very  process  of  social  conflict,  and  the  task  that 
faces  us  is  that  of  realizing  the  conflict,  and  the  compulsives 
that  it  creates,  but  at  the  same  time  of  gaining  as  much 
flexibility  as  possible  within  its  limits.  In  this,  as  in  other 
fields,  the  radical  should  take  the  lead. 

NOTES 

1  The  observations  of  H.  von  Koppenfels  were  ridiculed  with  finality  by 
Hurton  (Two  Trips  to  Gorilla  Land  and  The  Cataracts  of  the  Congo)  and 
Du  Chaillu's  even  more  dubious  testimony  as  to  the  monogamousness  of 
the  gorilla  was  shattered  by  Winwood  Rcade  who  "showed  conclusively 
>hat  Du  Ch ail lu  has  never  set  eyes  on  a  gorilla." 

2  "Among  these  animals  (whales,  seals,  hippopotamus,  etc.)»"  Wester- 
narck  states,  "the  sexes  are  said  to  remain  together  even  after  the  birth  of 

the  young,  the  male  being  the  protector  of  the  family."  The  latter  statement 
is  certainly  untrue  for  every  one  of  the  animals  mentioned,  and  there  is 
not,  except  as  regards  the  hippopotamus,  a  word  to  suggest  it  in  the  author- 
ity whom  he  cites.  Of  whales,  Brehm  says  (vol.  iii,  pp.  677  seq.)  that  they 
live  in  large  flocks  and  that  very  little  is  known  concerning  their  breeding 
habits.  At  breeding  time  "it  would  appear,"  he  says,  "that  the  herds 
break  up  into  single  pairs,  which  remain  longer  together."  In  the  new 
edition  that  vaguely  worded  statement  is  withdrawn  and  a  less  ambiguous 
one  substituted  from  the  observations  of  Guldberg,  to  the  effect  that  after 
sexual  congress  the  sexes  "separate  entirely"  (vol.  xii,  p.  502).  This  is  in 
accordance  with  the  experience  of  whalers,  who  know  that  only  cowwhales 
are  found  with  schools  of  young,  and  that  they  retire  with  these  to  the 
shallower  waters,  where  the  males  are  never  seen  (see  A.  W.  Scott,  Seals, 


INTRODUCTION  3! 

Dugongs,  Whales,  pp.  132  seq.).  Seals,  whose  reproductive  habits  are  better 
known  than  those  of  most  mammals,  certainly  do  not  "remain  together 
even  after  the  birth  of  the  young,"  nor  docs  Brehm  make  any  such  state- 
ment. They  are  among  the  most  typically  polygamous  of  animals,  and  the 
females  pass  from  one  male  to  another  as  the  first  males  become  spen*. 
The  young  which  are  born  just  before  the  rut  are  those  of  the  previous 
season,  and  the  sexes  separate  as  soon  as  those  young  are  able  to  take  to 
the  waters.  Of  the  hippopotami,  which  always  live  in  considerable  herds, 
Brehm  says  that  he  "thinks  he  may  venture  to  assume"  that  the  father 
protects  the  young.  No  other  observer,  as  far  as  I  know,  has  received  that 
impression;  on  the  contrary,  according  to  the  best  accounts,  "the  mother 
...  is  sedulous  in  her  attention  to  her  offspring,  but  the  male  is  apt  to  be 
evilly  disposed  towards  it"  (R.  Lyddcker,  Toyal  Natural  History,  1894, 
vol.  li,  p.  450).  The  hippopotamus  is  a  herding,  promiscuous,  and  not  a 
pairing  animal  (cf.  J.  A.  Nichols  and  W.  Eglington,  The  Sportsman  in 
South  Ajrica,  p.  65;  F.  V.  Kirby,  In  Haunts  of  Wild  Game,  p.  538;  Brchm- 
Strassen,  Tierlebcn,  vol.  xm,  p.  41;  D.  Livingstone,  Missionary  Travels, 
pp.  241  seq.;  E.  Pechuel-Loesrhe,  in  Die  Loango-Expedition,  part  111,  p.  213). 
The  reindeer  of  which  Brehm  speaks  in  the  passage  refcncd  to  by  Profes- 
sor Westcrmarck  is  the  semi-domesticated  Norwegian  animal.  "The  life 
of  the  domesticated  reindeer  differs,"  he  &a>s,  "in  almost  every  respect 
from  that  of  the  wild  reindeer."  At  rutting  time,  "the  Lapps  allow  their 
reindeer  to  enjoy  their  freedom,  provided  no  wolves  are  about,  and  the 
domesticated  animals  mix  with  the  wild  herds,  much  to  the  joy  of  the 
owner,  whose  stock  is  thereby  improved"  (Brehm-Strassen,  Tierlebcn, 
vol.  xni,  p.  115). 

3  In  the  recent  remodeled  edition  of  his  work,  Dr.  Westermarck  has 
considerably  modified  his  former  statements  and  has  eliminated  several 
examples  which  he  formerly  adduced  as  evidence  of  "primitive  monog- 
amy." Thus,  for  example,  the  Iroquois  were  formerly  represented  by  Dr. 
Wcstermarck  as  "monogamous";  the  impression  was  indeed  conveyed  that 
they  were  so  strictly  and  rigorously;  they  were  said  to  be  "purely  monog- 
amous," and  were  repeatedly  appealed  to  as  a  favorite  and  conspicuous 
instance  (E.  Wcstermarck,  The  History  of  Human  Marriage,  1901,  pp. 
435>  5°°»  5°6).  Those  statements  have  now  been  entirely  withdrawn  and 
Dr.  Wcstermarck  acknowledges  that  they  are  opposed  to  our  information 
(E.  Westermarck,  The  History  of  Human  Marriage,  1921,  vol.  iii,  p.  4). 
Of  the  Apaches  it  is  asserted  by  Dr.  Wcstermarck  that  "formerly"  only 
one  woman  was  deemed  the  proper  share  of  one  man  (E.  Westermarck, 
The  History  of  Human  Marriage,  vol.  iii,  p.  5).  His  authority  is  Major 
Cremony  who  says  that  an  Apache  once  told  him  so  and  descanted  upoi 
the  evils  of  polygamy.  "These  recitals,"  comments  Major  Cremony,  "will 
serve  to  show  that  the  Apaches  have  pondered  over  some  of  the  most 
abstruse  and  perplexing  social  problems"  (J.  C.  Cremony,  Life  Among 
the  Apaches,  pp.  249  sq.).  Tlie  sociological  speculations  of  the  Apaches, 
"the  most  barbarous  people  thus  far  discovered  in  these  parts,'*  (P.  de  Cas- 
tancda  dc  Nacera,  "Rclacion  de  la  Jornada  de  Cibola,"  in  Fourteenth  An- 
nual Report  of  the  Bureau  of  Ethnology,  part  i,  p.  448)  did  not  prevent 
them  from  showing  honor  and  respect  to  a  man  in  proportion  to  the  mag- 
nitude  of  his  matrimonial  establishment;  and  the  women  were  "by  no 
means  averse  to  sharing  the  affection  of  their  lords  with  other  wives**  (J. 


32  THEMAKINGOFMAN 

C.  Cremony,  op.  cit.,  p.  249).  Among  the  Apaches  "a  man  will  marry 
Ws  wife's  younger  sisters  as  fast  as  they  grow  to  maturity.  Polygamy  is 
'die  nuptial  law"  (J.  C.  Bourge,  "Notes  on  the  Gentile  Organization  of  the 
Apaches  of  Arizona,"  Journal  of  American  Foll^  Lore,  in,  p.  118;  cf.  H.  H. 
Bancroft,  Native  Races  of  the  Pacific  States,  vol.  v,  p.  641;  E.  Domensch« 
journal  d'une  mission  an  Texas  at  an  Mexiqtte,  p.  135).  Dr.  Morse  re- 
ported polygamy  to  be  general  among  all  the  eastern  tribes  of  North 
America  which  he  knew  (J.  Morse,  A  Report  to  the  Secretary  of  War  of 
the  United  States  on  Indian  Affairs,  p.  349);  and  Catim  reports  the  same 
thing  of  the  more  southern  tribes.  "Polygamy,"  he  says,  "is  countenanced 
amongst  all  of  the  North  American  Indians,  so  far  as  I  have  visited  them" 
(G.  Catlin,  Illustrations  of  the  Manners,  Customs  and  Conditions  of  the 
North  American  Indians,  vol.  i).  Among  the  Guaranti  tribes,  according  to 
Dr.  Westermarck,  "chiefs  alone  are  allowed  to  have  more  than  one  wife" 
(E.  Westermarck,  The  History  of  Human  Marriage,  vol.  in,  p.  2).  The 
statement  is  given  on  the  authority  ot  Father  Charlcvoix,  whose  remark 
refers  to  Christian  Indians  (P.  F.  X.  de  Charlcvoix,  The  History  oj 
Paraguay,  vol.  i,  p.  202):  "T*he  men  among  them  who  have  embraced  the 
Christian  religion  never  marrv  among  their  relations,  even  within  the 
degree  which  the  Church  readily  dispenses.  But  Caciques  have  more  wives 
than  one,"  but  it  is  quite  unnecessary  to  have  recourse  to  his  casual  and 
second-hand  remark  for  information  concerning  the  Guaranis.  Dr.  Wester- 
marck adds  a  reference  to  Father  Hernandez.  What  Father  Hernandez  has 
to  say  concerning  the  monogamy  of  the  Guaram  is  as  follows:  "The 
Guarani  family,  in  their  state  of  heathenism,  suffered  from  a  fundamental 
defect,  for  polygyny  reigned  amongst  them,  and  they  thus  violated  the 
natural  law  which  is  the  basis  of  marriage*'  (P.  Hernandez,  Misiones  del 
Paraguay,  Organization  social  de  las  doctrinas  Guaranies  de  la  Compama 
•de  Jesus,  vol.  i,  p.  84;  cf.  p.  85).  Father  Ruiz  de  Montoya  loudly  laments 
the  unrestricted  and  ineradicable  polygamy  of  the  Guaranis;  some  of 
them  had  as  many  as  twenty  and  even  thirty  wives  (A.  Ruiz  de  Montoya, 
Conqtdsta  espiritual  hecha  por  los  religiosos  de  la  Compania  de  Jesus  en 
las  Provincias  del  Paraguay,  Prana,  Uruguay,  y  Tape,  p.  14).  D'Orbigny, 
summing  up  our  information  on  the  subject,  says:  "The  customs  of  the 
Guaranis  are  almost  identical  in  all  sectims  of  the  race.  . . .  All  of  them 
practice  polygamy"  (A.  Dessahncs  d'Orbigny,  L'homme  americain,  vol. 
M»  PP»  3°6>  3°7)«  The  Chinguanos,  another  Canb  race  of  the  eastern  in- 
tenor,  are  also  referred  to  by  Dr.  Westermarck  as  "allowing"  chiefs  only 
to  have  more  than  one  wife  (E.  Westermarck,  The  History  of  Human 
Marriage).  Colonel  Church  says  that  among  the  Chiriguanos,  "polygamy 
was  customarv,"  though  at  the  present  day,  they  being  mostly  Catholics, 
it  is  "not  often  met  with";  "bigamy  is  more  common"  (G.  E.  Church, 
Aborigines  of  South  America,  p.  238).  Mr.  Whiffen,  to  whom  Dr.  Wester- 
marck refers,  and  who  in  truth  refers  to  Dr.  Westcrmarck  for  theories  of 
primitive  monogamy,  says  that  in  some  tribelcts  south  of  the  Tikic,  chiefs 
have  not  more  than  one  wife,  but  makes  the  curious  statement  that  "it 
is  extremely  hard  to  distinguish  at  first  between  wives,  concubines,  and 
'attached  wives'"  (T.  Whiffen,  The  North  West  Amazons,  p.  159;  cf. 
V/.  E,  Hardenburg,  "The  Indians  of  the  Putumayo,"  Man,  x,  p.  135). 

The  eastern  Sahara  derives  considerable  wealth  from  the  salt  trade  and 
f<om  traffic  with  caravans;  the  western,  or  Moroccan,  region  is.  with  the 


INTRODUCTION  33 

exception  of  a  few  of  the  lower  valleys  of  the  Atlas  and  some  patches  oi 
oasis,  a  land  of  such  poverty  and  desolation  that  the  inhabitants  have 
difficulty  in  keeping  body  and  soul  together.  So  precarious  are  the  means 
of  existence  that  most  of  the  natives  live  from  year's  end  to  year's  end  on 
dates  alone;  the  men  are  haggard  with  hunger,  and  whole  populations  are 
decimated  by  famine  (S.  Nouve,  Nomads  ct  Sodcntaires  an  Maroc,  i,  p. 
107).  In  those  conditions  it  would  not  be  surprising  if  large  households 
were  not  common.  Nevertheless,  there  is  little  definite  evidence  of  general 
monogamy,  with  the  exception  of  a  few  communities,  such  as  Dr.  Dads' 
of  the  lower  Atlas,  and  pol>gamy  is  found  in  every  district.  Dr.  Wester- 
marck  cites  Chavanne,  who  refers  to  Vincent  as  stating  that  he  "did  not 
meet  a  single  man  who  had  a  plurality  of  wives"  (E.  Westermarck,  op. 
cit.,  vol.  in,  p.  25).  Dr.  Rohlfs  met  one  at  Tafilet,  in  the  heart  of  the  same 
region,  who  had  three  hundred  (G.  Rohlfs,  op.  cit,,  p.  65);  and  Mr.  W. 
B.  Harris,  who  perhaps  knows  that  region  better  than  any  other  English- 
man, speaks  of  the  harems  and  of  the  large  polygamous  households  and 
slavcgirls  of  the  ShanHan  families. 

Fiom  India,  Dr.  Westermarck  has  not  succeeded  in  culling  a  dozen 
instances  of  tribes  concerning  which  monogyny  has  been  predicated. 
Among  these  arc  the  Khasis.  "The  practice  of  polygamy,"  says  Mr.  Gait, 
"is  usually  said  to  be  uncommon  among  them";  but  he  adds:  "an  edu' 
catcd  Khasi  whom  I  consulted  assures  me  tnat  polygamy  is  by  no  means 
unknown.  It  was  formerly  considered  meritorious  for  a  Khasi  to  beget 
offspring  by  diifcrcnt  wives"  (E.  A.  Gait,  Census  of  India,  1901,  vol.  i,  p. 
199).  Among  the  Nagas,  who  are  also  adduced  as  an  example  of  Indian 
monogamy,  "pohgamy  is  very  common,  and  is  limited  only  by  the  mcn'a 
resources"  (J.  McSwiney,  "Assam,"  Census  of  India,  1911,  vol.  in,  p.  79). 
Concerning  the  Mcchcs,  the  Rev.  S.  Endle,  who  gives  a  somewhat  idealized 
account  of  his  parishioners,  docs  not  claim  that  they  are  monogamous,  bu\ 
merely  makes  the  usual  statement  that  polygyny  is  not  common  except 
among  the  well-to-do  (S.  Endlc,  The  Kachans,  p.  30).  A  less  tender  ac- 
count states  that  they  "place  few  restrictions  upon  their  natural  appetites" 
(The  Imperial  Gazetter  of  India,  vol.  iv,  p.  44).  The  Mikirs,  who  are 
cited  by  Dr.  Westermarck  as  monogamous,  are  expressly  stated  by  Mr. 
Stack  in  his  monograph  of  them  to  be  polygamous  (E.  Stack,  The  Af/7</r.?, 
p.  19).  The  Kukis  are  first  stated  to  be  "strictly  monogamous"  on  the 
authority  of  an  account  which  is  then  admitted  to  be  m  contradiction  with 
all  others,  the  claim  that  "polygyny  and  concubinage  are  strictly  forbidden," 
being  next  restricted  to  the  Old  Kukis,  and  finally  to  "some  of  them." 
That  residue  consists,  in  fact,  according  to  Colonel  Shakcspcar,  of  the 
Kohlen  clan,  whose  sexual  laxity  strongly  savors  of  promiscuity  (J.  Shake- 
spear,  The  Lnshei  Kuly  Clans,  pp.  155,  166).  Colonel  Cole,  the  late 
superintendent  of  the  Lushai  Hills,  says  that  among  them  polygamy  is 
merely  "uncommon,"  and  that  chiefs  usually  have  two  or  three  concubines 
in  addition  to  their  principal  wife  (H.  W.  G.  Cole,  "The  Lushais,"  in 
Census  of  India,  1911,  vol.  hi,  p.  139).  The  Nayadis  and  the  Kavaras  oi 
Southern  Malabar,  whom  Dr.  Westermarck  states  to  be  "strictly  monog- 
amous," have,  according  to  Mr.  Stuart,  barely  emerged  from  a  condition 
difficult  to  dktinguish  from  promiscuity;  they  are  "monandrous  with 
great  freedom  of  divorce"  (H.  A.  Stuart,  in  Census  of  India,  1891,  vol.  xiii, 
p.  151). 


34  THEMAKINGOFMAN 

"Tlie  curly  discoverers  of  the  Philippines,"  says  Dr.  Westermarck,  "found 
legal  monogamy  combined  with  concubinage"  (H.  Westermarck,  op.  at., 
vol.  iii,  p.  15,  after  S.  de  Mas,  In  for  me  sobre  el  estado  de  las  Islas  Filipino f 
en  1842,  vol.  i,  p.  20).  What  the  early  discoverers  of  the  Philippines  found 
was,  according  to  one  of  the  oldest  account,  that  the  natives  "marry  as 
many  wives  as  they  can  afford  to  keep"  (De  Moluccis  Insuhs,  Rome,  1523); 
translation  in  £.  H.  Blair  and  K.  A.  Robertson,  The  Philippine  Islands, 
1493-1808,  vol.  i,  p.  330);  what  Magellan  found  was  that  "they  have  as. 
many  wives  as  they  wish"  (A.  Pigafette,  Primo  Viaggio  intorno  al  Mondo, 
1525,  vol.  xxxiu,  p.  173);  what  de  Lcgazpi  found  was  that  "the  men  are 
permitted  to  have  two  or  three  wives  if  they  have  money  enough  to  buy 
and  support  them"  (Miguel  Lopez  de  Legazpi,  Relation  of  the  Philipmat 
Islands  and  of  the  Character  and  Conditions  of  Their  Inhabitants,  1569). 
What  the  discoverers  found  in  the  Bisayan,  or  Middle  Islands,  was  that 
"all  the  men  are  accustomed  to  have  as  many  wives  as  they  can  support. 
The  women  are  extremely  lewd,  and  they  even  encourage  their  own  daugh- 
ters to  live  a  life  of  unchastity"  (Miguel  de  Loarca,  Tracado  de  las  ysla* 
Philipinas,  1582,  vol.  v,  p.  119;  cf.  F.  Cartelli,  Viaggi  racontati  in  dodici 
jagionamenti,  p.  145).  The  greatest  difficulty  encountered  by  the  Friars  and 
/esuits  in  converting  the  natives  was  that  of  inducing  them  to  part  with 
iheir  wives  (Father  Pedro  Chirino,  Relacion  de  las  Islas  Filipmas  i  de  h 
que  en  ellas  an  trabaiado  los  padres  dae  la  Compania  de  Jesus,  Rome, 
1604;  translation  in  op.  at.,  vol.  xii,  pp.  291,  317  seq.;  vol.  xi,  p.  52),  and 
4  special  council  was  even  held  with  the  express  object  of  suppressing  polyg- 
amy among  the  natives  (Juan  de  la  Concepcion,  Histona  general  de  Phili- 
pinast  vol.  i,  pp.  409,  sq.).  Mention  is  made  of  one  valuable  convert  who 
had  three  wives,  all  noble  and  of  equal  rank — and  therefore  not  "con- 
cubines" (P.  Chirino,  op.  at.,  vol.  xii,  p.  291);  and  of  many  more  men 
who  "encountered  great  difficulty  in  putting  away  their  many  wives" 
(Ibid.,  vol.  xiii,  p.  162).  Father  Chirino  assures  us  that  "we  are  gradually- 
uprooting  that  hindrance  to  conversion  so  common  among  these  people 
and  so  difficult  to  remove  the  practice  of  having  several  wives"  (Ibid.,  vol. 
*iii,  p.  98).  "Among  the  Bagobo  and  some  other  tribes  of  Southern  Min- 
danao," says  Dr.  Wcstermarck,  "a  man  may  not  take  a  second  mate  until 
a  child  has  been  born  to  the  first  union."  Since  pregnancy  usually  precedes 
marriage,  there  is  nothing  very  remarkable  about  the  rule;  and  it  can  only 
be  for  the  sake  of  rhetorical  effect  that  Dr.  Westermarck  refrains  from 
quoting  the  first  part  of  the  sentence  from  his  authority,  namely,  that  "a 
man  may  have  as  many  wives  as  he  desires  and  can  afford"  (F.  C.  Cole. 
The  Wild  Tribes  of  Davao  District,  Mindanao,  p.  103).  "Among  the 
Subanu,"  he  proceeds  to  tell  us,  "a  plurality  of  wives  is  permissible  but 
not  'common.' "  Velarde  found  the  Subanu  "worse  than  Noors,"  and 
"married  to  several  wives"  (Pedro  Murillo  Velarde,  "Historia  de  la  Pro- 
vincia  de  Philipinas,"  in  E.  H.  Blair  and  J.  A.  Robertson,  op.  cit.,  vol.  xliv, 
p.  91),  and  Combes  informs  us  that  they  were  in  the  habit  of  exchanging 
wives  (Francisco  Comes,  S.J.,  "Historia  de  las  islas  de  Mindanao,  etc.," 
in  vol.  xl,  p.  164).  They  were  moreover  much  addicted  to  homosexual 
practices.  Concerning  the  Italons,  Dr.  Westermarck  cites  a  highly  edifying 
passage  from  Father  Arzaga,  who  gives  us  much  more  incredible  informa- 
tion concerning  them  (cited  by  Mozo,  "Noticia  de  los  gloriosos  triumphos, 
ttc.,"  p.  19);  but  Father  Diaz,  on  the  contrary,  complained  that  they  were 


INTRODUCTION  35 

polygamous  (Casimiro  Diaz,  "Conquest  of  the  Filipinas  Islands  and  Chron- 
icles of  the  Religious  of  our  Father  St.  Augustine,"  in  Blair  and  Robertson, 
vol.  xlii,  p.  255).  The  Tinguianes,  we  are  informed,  "are  monogamists" 
(on  the  authority  of  J.  Foreman,  Philippine  Islands,  p.  216).  Mr.  Fore- 
man's is  a  most  charming  book  on  the  Philippines,  but  on  matters  of  eth- 
nology, except  as  regards  the  writer's  personal  observations  of  the  Tagalog, 
entirely  worthless  and  unreliable.  They  are  most  certainly  nothing  of  the 
kind.  Mr.  Cole,  the  only  authority  concerning  the  tribe  who  need  be  taken 
into  account,  tells  us,  on  the  contrary,  that  there  is  amongst  them  no 
objection  to  a  man  having  two  wives,  and  that  "from  the  first  time"  to 
the  present  a  man  might  have  as  many  concubines  as  he  could  secure. 
Prc-nuptial  cohabitation  is,  as  with  all  other  tribes,  the  rule  and  a  man  is 
not  bound  to  marry  a  girl  even  if  he  has  had  several  children  from  her, 
and  can  leave  her  without  incurring  any  reproach  (F.  C.  Cole,  "Tradition? 
of  the  Tinguian,  a  Study  of  Philippine  Folk-lore,"  Field  Museum  of 
Natural  History,  Anthropological  Series,  vol.  xiv,  no.  i,  pp.  12,  54,  59, 
in,  120).  "Generally  the  Negritos  of  the  Philippines  are  strictly  monog- 
amists." Among  the  Negritos  "a  man  may  marry  as  many  wives  as  he 
can  buy. . . .  Polygamy  is  allowed  throughout  the  Negrito  territory,  and 
it  is  not  uncommon  for  a  man  to  marry  several  sisters"  (W.  A.  Reed, 
Negritos  of  Zambales,  Ethnological  Survey  Publications,  vol.  ii,  part  ii,  p. 
61).  Finally,  we  are  told  by  Dr.  Westermarck  that  "the  wild  Tagbanuas  of 
Palawan  do  not  allow  polygyny"  (on  the  very  doubtful  authority  of  Dean 
Worcester,  The  Philippine  Islands,  p.  108).  But  we  are  informed  by  the 
official  authority  on  the  region  that  both  polygyny  and  polyandry  are 
permitted  by  their  customs,  although  not  much  practiced  at  the  present 
day  (E.  Y.  Mil,  The  Batakjs  of  Alawan,  Ethnological  Survey  Publications, 
vol.  ii,  p.  184). 

Among  the  Mantras,  a  tribe  of  the  Jakuns,  polygyny,  Dr.  Westermarck 
tells  us,  "is  said  to  be  forbidden"  (E.  Westermarck,  op.  cit.,  vol.  iii,  p. 
n).  But  he  omits  to  give  the  context  of  the  statement,  which  is  anything 
but  edifying.  "It  is  nothing  rare,"  says  Father  Bourien,  "to  meet  individ- 
uals who  have  been  married  fifty  times";  and,  in  spite  of  the  alleged  pro- 
hibition, some  nevertheless  live  in  simultaneous  polygamy  (M.  Bouricn, 
"On  the  Wild  Tribes  of  the  Interior  of  the  Malay  Peninsula,"  Transaction* 
of  the  Ethnological  Society,  n.s.  iii,  p.  80).  "Most  of  the  Binua,  according 
to  Logan,"  says  Dr.  Westermarck,  "have  only  one  wife,  whilst  other 
authorities  inform  us  that  polygyny  is  not  permitted  among  them";  Favre 
met  one  who  had  two  wives,  but  "he  was  censured  and  despised  by  the 
whole  tribe."  But  what  is  actually  stated  by  Logan  is:  "Most  of  the  Biniias 
have  one  wife,  but  some  have  two,  and  there  does  not  appear  to  be  anv 
rule  on  the  subject";  and  he  adds  that  separation  is  most  easy,  that  hus- 
bands commonly  exchange  wives,  and  that  adultery  is  frequent  and  un- 
resented  (J.  R.  Logan,  "The  Orang  Binua  of  Johorc,"  Journal  of  the  Indian 
Archipelago,  i,  pp.  20,  268).  The  opinion  of  the  "other  authorities,"  namely. 
Father  Favre,  that  the  tribes  of  Malaya  "have  kept  marriage  in  the  purity 
and  unity  of  its  first  institution,"  does  not,  therefore,  appear  to  be  borne 
out. 

"The  Central  African  Pygmies,"  says  Dr.  Westermarck,  "seem  to  be 
mostly  monogamous,  in  spite  of  Sir  Johnston's  statement  that  polygarm 
among  them  "depends  on  the  extent  of  their  barter  goods"  (E.  Wester 


36  THEMAKINGOFMAN 

marck,  op.  cit.,  vol.  iii,  p.  22;  H.  H.  Johnston,  The  Uganda  Protectorate, 
P-  539)-  The  statement  made  twenty  years  ago  by  Sir  Harry  Johnston  is 
almost  literally  repeated  by  the  Gaboon  Pygmies  themselves,  when  ques- 
tioned on  the  subject.  They  say  that  a  Pygmy  "may  have  as  many  as  two 
or  three  wives;  it  depends  on  the  man's  being  able  to  pay  the  head-money" 
(F.  W.  H.  Migeod,  "A  Talk  with  Some  Gaboon  Pygmies,"  Man,  xxii, 
p.  18). 

Dr.  Westermarck  has  not  been  able  to  discover  any  suggestion  of  monog- 
amy in  Polynesia  or  in  Melanesia.  There  is  no  trustworthy  evidence  of  any 
native  monogamous  institution  in  New  Guinea.  Polygamy,  commonly 
very  considerable  in  extent,  is  reported  from  every  part  of  the  country  (D. 
L.  White,  in  Annual  Report  on  British  New  Guinea,  1893-4,  p.  75).  Dr. 
Westermarck  reproduces  the  statement  of  Dr.  Finsch  that  in  the  Gcelvink 
Bay  district,  the  oldest  missionary  settlement  in  Dutch  New  Guinea,  "not 
only  is  polygamy  torbiddcn,  but  concubinage  and  adultery  arc  unknown" 
(E.  Westermarck,  op.  cit.,  vol.  in,  p.  16;  O.  Finsch,  Neti-Gmnca  nnd 
seine  Bewohner,  p.  101).  Other  and  more  authoritative  reports  give  no 
countenance  to  such  a  statement.  An  account  drawn  up  by  a  commission 
of  Dutch  investigators  states  that  "a  man  is  permitted  to  marry  two 
ivomen;  although  this  happens  but  seldom"  (Nieuw  Guinea  ethnographisch 
?n  natural ;idig  onderzocht  en  beschreven  in  1858  door  een  Nederlandsch 
Indtsche  Commissie,  p.  161).  Heeren  Von  der  Lith  and  Snellman  say 
that  in  the  Doreh  districts,  the  chief  missionary  center,  "if  they  are  able 
to  pay  for  them,  they  can  marry  several  wives,"  and  in  other  parts  of 
Geelvmk  Bay,  "each  man  is  permitted  to  take  as  many  wives  as  he  can 
pay  for,  and  the  majority  have  more  than  one  wife"  (P.  A.  Von  dcr  Lith 
ind  J.  F.  Snellman,  in  Encyclopaedic  van  Nederlandsch-Indie,  vol.  iii,  p. 

712). 

Dr.  Westermarck  says  that  Mr.  Curr  "has  discovered  some  truly  monog- 
jimous  tribes"  (E.  Westermarck,  op.  cit.,  vol.  in,  p.  20).  But  nobody  else 
has;  and  Dr.  Malinowski,  Dr.  Westermarck's  disciple,  is  compelled  to 
contradict  him,  and  to  admit  that  "polygyny  seems  to  be  found  in  all  the 
tribes"  (B.  Malinowski,  The  Family  Among  the  Australian  Aborigines, 
f>.  387). 

4  Journal  of  Mammalogy,  vol.  ix. 

6  Another  interesting  instance  of  this  same  type  of  rationalization,  in  an 
endeavor  to  differentiate  man  from  the  animals,  exalting  the  former,  as  it 
were,  at  the  expense  of  the  latter,  is  Malinowski's  argument  as  to  the  presence 
of  the  rutting  season  among  primates  and  the  absence  of  it  among  men. 
All  evidence  to-day  shows  the  fallacy  of  this  distinction.  The  evidence  which 
Malinowski  used  as  his  main  support  is  refuted  to-day  by  laboratory  in- 
vestigations. Hamilton  in  his  "Sexual  Tendencies  of  Monkeys  and  Baboons" 
(Journal  of  American  Animal  Behavior,  vol.  iv,  October,  1914)  shows  that 
"females  do  not  have  rutting  seasons  but  accept  males  at  all  times.  Males 
are  sexually  attracted  by  any  adult  or  adolescent  female  at  any  time.  Also 
interested  in  females  of  other  species,  snake,  puppy,  human  infant,  etc." 
E.  Kempf  in  his  study  of  "Social  and  Sexual  Behavior  Infra-Human 
Primates"  (Psychoanalytic  Review,  vol.  iv,  April,  1917)  observed  "no  period 
of  heat  was  observed  in  female  .  .  .  healthy  male  monkey  ready  to  respond 
to  sexual  attraction  at  any  time."  Sokolowsky  in  his  study  of  "The  Sexual 
Life  of  Anthropoid  Apes"  (Urologtc  and  Cutaneous  Review,  October,  1923) 


INTRODUCTION  37 

reported  that  he  discovered  no  period  of  rut;  male  practices  repeated  inter- 
course every  day  with  his  females.  Yerkes  (Genetic  Psychology  Monograph, 
November,  1927),  Bingham  (Comparative  Psychological  Monograph,  May, 
1927),  Hartman  (Journal  of  Mammalogy,  August,  1928);  all  corroborate 
these  same  observations  (for  more  detail  and  further  reference  see  Gerrit 
Miller's  article,  "Some  Elements  of  Sexual  Behavior  in  Primates  and  Their 
Possible  Influence  on  the  Beginnings  of  Human  Social  Development"). 


I 

FOSSIL  AND   PREHISTORIC  MAN 


FOSSIL  MEN* 

By  MARCEUN  BOULE 

BY  virtue  of  a  supreme  law  of  life,  Mankind  as  a  whole 
has  had  to  pass  through  the  phases  of  intellectual  and  physi- 
cal evolution  which  to-day  characterize  the  development  of 
each  individual  in  the  human  mass.  In  the  beginning,  the 
child  is  lulled  by  tales  or  songs  of  marvels:  poetry  is  his 
first  instructress.  Later,  his  faculties  of  observation  and  rea- 
son awaken :  truth  compels  him,  and  poetry  is  superseded  by 
science. 

So,  regarding  the  "supreme  question"  of  its  origin,  Man- 
kind in  its  infancy  had  at  first  no  source  of  information  other 
than  fairy  tales,  legends  and  stories  of  the  miraculous.  Then 
human  intelligence  developed;  in  certain  bright  spirits 
genius'  was  made  manifest;  next  calm  observation,  freed 
from  all  preconceptions,  played  its  part;  and  finally,  but 
only  in  later  centuries  when  the  reign  of  science  began, 
there  dawned  some  rays  of  Truth. 

Our  knowledge  of  Man's  existence  on  the  earth  in  pre- 
historic times  is  a  conquest  of  modern  science. 

Neither  in  ancient  times  nor  in  the  Middle  Ages  does 
there  seem  to  have  been  expressed  any  but  imaginary  con- 
ceptions of  the  origin  of  Mankind.  In  the  Greek  poets  and 
philosophers  of  the  pre-Christian  era,  vague  references  oc- 
cur bearing  on  the  low  estate  of  the  first  Men.  And  so  also 
in  the  Latin  poets;  every  one  is  familiar  with  the  oft-quoted 
verses  of  Lucretius: 

"Anna  antique  manus,  ungues  dcntesquc  fuerunt, 
Et  lapides,  et  item  sylvarum  fragmina  rami, 
Et  flammae  atque  ignis  postquam  sunt  cognita  primum 
Posterius  ferri  vis  cst,  serisque  reperta. 
Sed  prior  aeris  erat,  quam  ferri,  cognitus  usus."1 

*  Historical  Summary.  Edinburgh:  Oliver  and  Boyd. 


4±  THEMAKINGOFMAN 

Similar  views  were  expressed  by  Horace,  Pliny,  Strabo, 
Diodorus  and  others.  Probably  all  these  notions  were  purely 
intuitive,  but  it  may  be  that  they  owed  something  to  the 
persistence  of  ancient  traditions.  In  any  case  they  do.  not 
seem  to  have  been  based  on  true  interpretations  of  relics  of 
former  days,  for  even  though  stone  axes  and  weapons, 
called  ceraunia  (Greek, — thunder),  were  already  well 
known,  their  origin  or  real  significance  was  unrecognized. 
They  were  regarded  as  produced  or  launched  by  lightning, 
and  extraordinary  powers  were  attributed  to  them. 

Such  primitive  ideas  became  widespread:  with  slight 
variations  they  have  persisted  to  our  own  day  in  the  popular 
superstitions  of  almost  every  country.2 

And  yet  it  is  to  a  considered  study  of  these  ancient  objects, 
it  is  to  archaeology,  that  we  owe  the  first  positive  concrete 
facts  of  the  great  antiquity  of  Mankind.3 

In  regaining  contact  with  Nature,  lost  since  the  time  of 
the  ancient  Greeks,  the  scientific  spirit  reawoke  with  the 
Renaissance.  Two  great  artists,  Leonardo  da  Vinci  and  Ber- 
nard Palissy,  propounded  correct  views  regarding  the  na- 
ture of  fossils.  Yet  although  various  authors,  Agricola 
(1558),  Gesner  (1565)  and  others,  described  or  figured 
polished  stone  axes  and  stone  arrow-heads,  they  regarded 
them  simply  as  curiosities.  They  still  considered  these  ob- 
iects,  together  with  so  many  other  "fossils,"  as  sports  of 
Nature,  of  which  they  gave  more  or  less  quaint  explanations. 

At  the  end  of  the  sixteenth  century,  Michael  Mercati» 
whose  writings  were  not  published  till  1717,  more  than  a 
century  after  his  death  (1593),  discovered  the  true  nature 
of  the  so-called  thunder-bolts  or  ceraunia.  "Most  men,"  he 
says,  "believe  that  ceraunia  are  produced  by  lightning. 
Those  who  study  history  consider  that  they  have  been 
broken  off  from  very  hard  flints  by  a  violent  blow,  in  the 
days  before  iron  was  employed  for  the  follies  of  war;  for 
the  earliest  men  had  only  splinters  of  flint  for  knives."  And 
in  this  connection  he  quotes  the  verses  of  Lucretius.4 

In  1636  Boetius  de  Boot,  regardless  of  being  "dubbed  a 


FOSSIL    AND    PREHISTORIC    MAN  43 

fool,"  rejected  the  commonly  accepted  ideas;  but  he  be- 
lieved that  he  was  dealing  with  implements  of  iron  trans- 
formed into  stone  through  process  of  time. 

Various  writers,  however,  Aldrovandus  in  1648,  Hassus 
in  1714,  A.  de  Jussieu  in  1723,  Lafitau  the  Jesuit  in  1724, 
and  Mahudel  in  1730,  compared  the  old  stone  weapons  of 
our  countries  with  the  stone  weapons  of  living  native  tribes, 
notably  the  American  Indians,  and  so  initiated  an  excellent 
working  method  based  on  comparative  ethnography,  giving 
at  the  same  time  "the  finishing  blow  to  the  erroneous  be- 
liefs regarding  ceraunia." 

In  1750,  Eccard,  after  investigating  old  German  burials, 
established  a  succession  of  different  prehistoric  ages;  and  in 
1758,  a  learned  magistrate,  Goguet,  published  a  remarkable 
work  on  the  "Origin  of  Laws,"  in  which  he  declared  that  a 
Stone  Age  had  been  followed  by  an  Age  of  Copper  and  of. 
Bronze,  and  then  by  an  Iron  Age.  Later  this  classification 
was  firmly  established  and  developed  by  the  Danish  archaeol 
ogists  Thomsen  and  Worsaac. 

Thus  the  hesitating  science  of  the  eighteenth  century  ar- 
rived at  the  same  ideas  as  the  ancient  poets  or  philosophers; 
but  these  ideas  were  now  based  on  the  observation  of  ma* 
terial  evidences.  Nevertheless,  although  it  was  recognized 
that  the  historic  civilization  had  been  preceded  by  an  uncivi- 
lized or  crudely  barbarous  period,  the  great  antiquity  oi 
these  primitive  times  was  not  suspected.  The  theories  had 
first  of  all  to  be  accommodated  to  the  demands  of  biblical 
chronology.  The  new  idea  of  Mankind  beginning  in  a  state 
of  primitive  destitution  seemed  incompatible  with  the  idea 
of  the  physical  and  moral  perfection  of  the  terrestrial  para- 
dise. Hence  arose  these  heated  discussions,  fierce  battles  of 
words,  which  to-day  seem  so  naive  and  ridiculous,  specially 
when  we  consider,  as  M.  Cartailhac  has  pointed  out,  that 
the  most  widely  differing  opinions  regarding  the  date  of  the 
creation  of  Man  did  not  diverge  by  more  than  1500  years. 

Buffon,  who  first  suspected  the  immense  duration  of 
geological  time,  although  he  sought  to  interpret  the  Scrip* 


44  THEMAKINGO*MAN 

tures  "soundly,"  was  familiar  with  the  stones  which  "were 
believed  to  have  fallen  from  the  clouds  and  to  have  been 
formed  by  thunder,  but  which  nevertheless  are  really  the 
first  relics  of  the  art  of  Man  in  a  state  of  nature."  Yet,  to 
his  mind,  the  epoch  of  Man  was  only  the  seventh  and  last 
of  his  "Epochs  of  Nature,"  much  later  than  the  fifth  epoch, 
characterized  by  the  remains  of  the  Elephant,  the  Rhinoc- 
eros and  the  Hippopotamus,  which  he  found  in  the  super- 
ficial soil.6 

With  the  nineteenth  century  Natural  History  sprang  into 
suJden  life  and  vigor.  To  the  new  sciences  of  Geology  and 
Palaeontology  it  fell  to  throw  light  on  the  great  antiquity 
of  Man.  Up  to  that  time  it  had  been  a  question  only  of 
objects  dating  no  further  back  than  modern  geological 
times,  objects  which  to-day  are  known  as  Neolithic.  But 
now  attention  had  to  be  turned  to  stone  implements  much 
more  ancient  found  in  the  very  heart  of  deposits  which 
dated  from  a  geological  period  preceding  our  modern  period, 
and  which  were  distinguished  by  the  presence  of  remains 
of  animals  no  longer  existing  to-day. 

As  early  as  1715,  Conyers,  a  pharmacist  and  antiquary  of 
London,  had  found  near  that  city,  in  the  gravels  of  a  for- 
mer river  and  near  the  skeleton  of  an  elephant,  a  flint 
worked  after  the  manner  now  known  as  Achculean.  Bag- 
ford,  a  friend  of  Conyers,  made  the  suggestion  that  the  flint 
was  a  weapon  used  by  a  Briton  to  kill  the  elephant,  brought 
over  by  the  Romans  in  the  reign  of  the  Emperor  Claudius! 

In  1797,  another  Englishman,  John  Frere,  made  a  similar 
discovery  at  Hoxne  in  Suffolk.  He  collected  some  dressed 
flints  at  a  depth  of  four  meters  in  a  deposit  containing  bones 
of  large  extinct  animals.  He  was  able  to  give  his  find  a  much 
more  correct  interpretation  than  Bagford,  stating  that  it 
must  certainly  belong  to  a  "very  distant  period,  much  more 
remote  in  time  than  the  modern  world."  This  observation, 
so  full  of  judgment,  almost  of  genius,  passed  unnoticed.  It 
was  brought  to  light  again  by  John  Evans  only  after  the 


FOSSIL    AND    PREHISTORIC    MAN  45 

memorable  conflicts  of  Boucher  cle  Perthes,  of  whom  John 
Frere  must  be  considered  the  forerunner.6 

In  1823,  a  French  geologist,  Ami  Boue,  presented  Cuvier 
with  a  human  skeleton,  exhumed  near  Lahr  on  the  banks  of 
the  Rhine,  from  an  ancient  mud  or  loess  containing  also 
remains  of  extinct  animals.  This  discovery  was  set  aside 
by  the  famous  palaeontologist.  "All  the  evidence  leads  us 
to  believe,"  he  said,7  "that  the  human  species  did  not  exist 
at  all  in  the  countries  where  the  fossil  bones  were  found, 
at  the  period  of  the  upheavals  which  buried  them." 

For  these  words  the  great  naturalist  has  often  been  re- 
proached; but  it  is  easy  to  excuse  him.8  Cuvier  had,  as  a 
matter  of  fact,  examined  all  the  evidences  sent  from  various 
parts  as  remains  of  "antediluvian  Man."  Some  were  really 
human  bones,  such  as  those  from  Canstadt,  from  different 
German  caves,  from  Lahr  and  from  Guadeloupe;  but  no 
accurate  observation,  no  delusive  geological  evidence  justified 
the  assertion  of  their  high  antiquity. 

As  for  the  other  remains,  Cuvier  had  recognized  that  thr 
bones  from  Belgium  were  those  of  elephants;  from  Cerigo, 
fragments  of  a  cetacean;  from  Aix,  remains  of  a  chelonian; 
from  CEningen,  the  skeleton  of  a  salamander  (the  famous 
Homo  diliwii  testis  of  Scheuchzer).  Such  statements  were 
well  calculated  to  arouse  skepticism,  the  more  so  as  not  the 
least  trace  of  any  fossil  Ape  had  yet  been  discovered.  Cuvier 
prudently  added:  "But  I  do  not  wish  to  conclude  that  Man 
did  not  exist  at  all  before  this  period  (that  of  the  'last  up- 
heavals of  the  globe').  He  might  have  inhabited  certain 
circumscribed  regions  whence  he  repeopled  the  earth  after 
these  terrible  events;  perhaps  even  the  places  he  inhabited 
had  been  entirely  swallowed  up  and  his  bones  buried  in  the 
depths  of  the  present  seas,  except  for  a  small  number  o£ 
individuals  who  carried  on  the  race." 

Cuvier  died  in  1832,  just  at  the  time  when  discoveries 
were  imminent.  "Perchance  had  he  lived,"  wrote  de  Quatre- 
fages,  "he  would  have  repeated  the  words  he  addressed  one 


46  THEMAKINGOFMAN 

day  to  his  fellow-worker  Dumeril:  "My  dear  friend,  we  have 
been  mistaken." 

About  the  year  1830,  several  naturalists  in  the  Midi  of 
France,  Tournal  in  the  Department  of  Aude,  Emilien 
Dumas,  de  Christol  and  Marcel  de  Serres  in  the  Depart- 
ments of  the  Card  and  of  Herault,  continued  in  France 
such  researches  as  Buckland  had  begun  in  England  in  1820, 
by  excavating  the  deposits  accumulated  in  grottos  and  caves 
in  their  respective  regions.  There  they  found  human  bones, 
associated  with  numerous  remains  of  animals  belonging  to 
species  which  had  migrated  or  become  extinct,  bears, 
hyaenas,  reindeer,  and  others,  the  bones  of  which  sometimes 
showed  traces  of  cutting  instruments.  So  clearly  did  Tournal 
recognize  the  importance  of  these  observations  that  in  1829 
he  had  no  hesitation  in  writing:  ".  .  .  Geology,  in  supple- 
menting our  brief  history,  will  at  length  awaken  the  pride 
of  Man  by  revealing  to  him  the  antiquity  of  his  race;  for 
henceforth  it  lies  in  the  power  of  geology  alone  to  help  us 
to  some  knowledge  of  the  period  when  man  first  made 
his  appearance  on  the  globe."  °  These  words  assuredly  mark 
a  very  great  step  in  advance. 

Again  the  Belgian  author  Schmerling  published  in  1833 
an  important  work  entitled  Recherches  sur  les  ossements  fos~ 
files  des  cavernes  de  la  province  de  Liege.  In  this  he  not 
only  demonstrated  the  co-existence  of  Man  with  the  rhinoc- 
eros, bear,  hyaena,  and  other  animals,  but  further,  he  entitled 
his  concluding  chapter:  "Relics  worked  by  the  hand  of 
Man."  These  relics  consisted  of  shaped  bones,  and  in  par- 
ticular of  an  arrow-head  and  some  flints.  "Everything  con- 
sidered," he  says,  "it  must  be  admitted  that  these  flints  have 
been  cut  by  the  hand  of  Man,  and  that  they  may  have  been 

used  to  make  arrows  or  knives Even  if  we  had  not  found 

human  bones  in  circumstances  strongly  supporting  the  as- 
sumption that  they  belonged  to  the  antediluvian  period, 
proof  would  have  been  furnished  by  the  worked  bones  and 
the  shaped  flints." 
Some  years  later,  in  1840,  Godwon-Austen,  continuing 


FOSSIL    AND    PREHISTORIC    MAN  47 

McEnery's  studies  of  Kent's  Cavern  in  England,  arrived  at 
the  same  conclusions. 

Proof  of  the  geological  antiquity  of  Man  was  thus  firmly 
established  by  these  pioneers;  but  that  is  not  to  say  that  it 
was  accepted  by  professional  scientists,  save  perhaps  by  Con- 
stant Prevost.10  To  Boucher  de  Perthes  belongs  the  merit 
of  impressing  it  upon  the  learned  world,  of  giving  it  com- 
mon currency  as  well. 

Boucher  de  Perthes  (1788-1868)  was  Controller  of  Cus- 
toms at  Abbeville.11  He  was  a  learned  and  prolific  writer 
in  diverse  fields,  a  great  lover  of  antiquities,  "accustomed 
from  childhood  to  listen  to  talk  of  fossils."  Having  devoted 
himself  to  the  collecting  of  all  sorts  of  ancient  human  re- 
mains, he  had,  towards  the  end  of  1838,  the  good  fortune 
to  find  "in  diluvial  beds"  the  "first  diluvial  axes,"  which  he 
submitted  to  his  fellow-members  of  the  "Societe  d'emula- 
tion  d' Abbeville."  In  1846  he  published  the  first  volume  of 
his  Antiquites  celtiques  et  antediluviennes  entitled  Dt 
Vindustrie  primitive  on  des  arts  h  leitr  origine.  In  this  work, 
Boucher  de  Perthes  declared  that  the  ancient  alluvial  soils, 
diluvial  as  he  called  them,  in  the  suburbs  of  Abbeville,  con- 
tained many  stones  worked  by  "antediluvian"  Man  buried 
at  various  depths  along  with  bones  of  large  animals  be- 
longing to  extinct  species.  "In  spite  of  all  their  imperfection," 
he  says,  "these  rude  stones  prove  the  existence  of  Man  as 
surely  as  a  whole  Louvre  would  have  done." 

This  assertion,  although  founded  on  minute  observations 
and  on  excellent  evidence,  at  first  met  with  the  utmost  dis- 
favor. "Contradictions,  jeers,  scorn,  were  unsparingly 
heaped  upon  the  author,"  wrote  M.  de  Saulcy.  He  was  re- 
garded as  a  dreamer,  as  a  kind  of  visionary,  and  the  scien- 
tific world,  priding  itself  on  its  detachment,  allowed  him 
"to  talk  without  further  concerning  itself  with  facts  which, 
he  maintained,  he  had  forcefully  introduced  into  the  domain 
of  practical  science.12 

Far  from  being  discouraged,  Boucher  de  Perthes  con- 
L  vaed,  with  fine  perseverance  and  good  nature,  to  combat 


48  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

this  systematic  and  often  sarcastic  opposition.  Soon  two 
camps  were  formed  in  the  learned  world.  The  first  included 
several  naturalists  of  independent  spirit,  among  them  A. 
Brcngniart  and  Constant  Prevost,  who,  while  maintaining 
a  certain  caution,  supported  Boucher  de  Perthes.  In  the  sec- 
ond and  by  far  the  largest  camp,  that  of  the  extremists,  with 
Elie  de  Beaumont  at  their  head,  were  to  be  found  the  more 
academic  scientists,  the  disciples  and  successors  of  Cuvier, 
who,  while  repudiating  any  suggestion  of  prejudice,  never- 
theless exaggerated  their  master's  scruples.  "Before  the  in- 
tervention of  English  geologists  and  archaeologists  had  de- 
prived this  great  question  raised  and  solved  by  a  Frenchman, 
of  its  wholly  French  bearing,  for  so  long  the  entire  French 
Academy  followed  the  lead  of  its  Permanent  Secretary, 
like  a  flock  of  sheep  on  the  heels  of  the  shepherd."  13 

In  1854,  Dr.  Rigollot  of  Amiens,  having  found  in  the  sand- 
pits at  Saint-Acheul  "axes"  similar  to  those  from  the  gravels 
of  Abbeville,  was  the  first  to  associate  himself  wholeheartedly 
with  the  views  of  Boucher  de  Perthes,  which  till  then  he 
had  strenuously  opposed.  Further,  a  distinguished  naturalist 
of  the  Midi,  Dr.  Noulet,  brought  forward  favorable  evidence 
when  he  announced  the  occurrence  at  Clermont,  near 
Toulouse,  of  an  "alluvial  deposit  containing  remains  of 
extinct  animals,  mingled  with  stones  shaped  by  human 
hands." 

In  1859,  after  repeated  study  of  the  facts  on  the  spot,  several 
distinguished  English  scientists,  the  palaeontologist  Falconer, 
the  stratigrapher  Prestwich,  the  archaeologist  John  Evans, 
the  anatomist  Flower,  and  the  famous  geologist  Lyell,  who 
soon  afterwards  published  his  celebrated  work,  The  An- 
tiquity of  Man  Proved  by  Geology,  all  clearly  and  decidedly 
declared  their  adherence  to  the  theory.11 

In  the  same  year  Albert  Gaundry,  a  palaeontologist  then 
at  the  outset  of  a  brilliant  career,  went  to  Amiens  to  study 
the  deposits  and  to  carry  out  excavations.  Having  made  up 
his  mind  never  to  leave  his  workmen,  he  himself  succeeded 
in  extracting,  along  with  teeth  of  a  large  ox,  "nine  axes" 


FOSSIL    AND    PREHISTORIC    MAN  49 

from  the  "diluvium"  at  a  depth  of  4%  meters,  and  at  a 
level  from  which,  a  short  distance  off,  had  been  obtained 
bones  of  the  Rhinoceros,  Elephant  and  Hippopotamus.15 
Gaundry's  evidence  made  a  deep  impression  upon  the  minds 
of  several  independent  scholars,  but  opposition  continued  in 
the  Institute,  which  held  to  the  old  conception  of  the  deluge, 
and  had  absolute  faith  in  the  chronology  of  the  Bible,  ac- 
coiding  to  which  the  creation  of  the  world  dated  no  further 
back  than  4,000  years  before  Christ.  This  opposition  was 
carried  to  such  a  point  that,  on  i8th  May,  1863,  a  geologist 
in  the  highest  official  position,  Member  and  Permanent 
Secretary  of  the  Academy,  Elie  de  Beaumont,  went  so  far 
as  to  say:  "I  do  not  believe  that  the  human  race  was  con- 
temporary with  Elephas  primi genius.  M.  Cuvier's  theory 
is  born  of  genius;  it  is  still  undemolished."  '°  He  even  won- 
dered if  the  dressed  flints  were  not  of  Roman  origin.  .  .  ,17 

Academic  immortality  is  but  a  senile  illusion.  Permanent 
Secretaries  pass  away  and  their  names  fall  into  oblivion;  but 
the  name  of  Boucher  de  Perthes  will  shine  forever  in  the 
firmament  of  Science. 

A  very  great  advance  in  Science  had  been  made  by  the 
discovery  that  beyond  the  limits  of  History  stretched  a  vast 
Prehistory,  which  is  finally  lost  in  the  obscurity  of  geo- 
logical time.  Henceforth  the  origin  of  Man  became  a  prob- 
lem for  paleontology,  on  a  par  with  the  problems  of  the 
origins  of  the  animals.  The  impulse  was  given;  everywhere 
zealous  workers  devoted  themselves  to  investigations,  with 
good  results.  A  new  science,  that  of  "Human  Palaeontol 
ogy,"  18  was  on  the  point  of  being  definitely  established. 

Edouard  Lartet,  who  was  born  and  died  in  Gers  (1801- 
1871),  was  the  chief  founder  of  this  new  science.  At  first 
a  lawyer  by  profession,  he  awoke  to  his  true  calling  on  seeing 
a  molar  tooth  of  a  Mastodon,  found  by  a  peasant  in  his  vil- 
lage. Deeply  interested,  he  read  Cuvier's  works,  studied 
osteology,  and  devoted  himself  to  the  investigation  of  fossil 
bone-remains,  which  abounded  in  the  ground  about  his 
family  estate.  From  1836  onwards,  he  explored  and  made 


50  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

famous  the  rich  beds  of  Sansan,  which  date  from  Mid 
Tertiary  times.  There  he  discovered,  among  other  strange 
forms  entirely  new  to  science,  remains  of  an  anthropoid 
ape,  an  ancestor  of  the  modern  Gibbons,  and  this  he  named 
Pliopithccus. 

P.  Fischer,  author  of  one  of  the  biographies  of  E.  Lartet, 
points  out  the  importance  of  this  discovery  from  the  point 
of  view  of  the  question  of  fossil  Man:  "Cuvier,  in  an  en- 
lightened and  needful  criticism  of  the  so-called  bone-remains 
of  man  and  of  contemporary  monkeys  of  extinct  species, 
exposed  their  lack  of  authenticity.  He  accordingly  inferred 
that  monkey  and  man  were  late  in  appearing.  'What  aston- 
ishes me,'  said  he,  'is  that,  amongst  all  these  mammals,  the 
majority  of  which  have  at  the  present  day  congeners  in  warm 
regions,  there  is  not  a  single  Quadrumana;  and  also  that 
there  has  been  found  not  a  single  bone,  not  a  single  tooth,  of 
a  Monkey,  even  of  any  extinct  species.  Neither  is  there 
any  Man:  all  the  bones  of  our  species  which  have  been  col- 
lected along  with  those  I  have  referred  to  were  present  by 
accident.' " 

"In  thus  associating  the  date  of  Man's  appearance  with 
chat  of  monkeys,"  Fischer  continues,  "Cuvier  prepared  the 
way  for  the  great  reception  accorded  to  the  discovery  of  the 
Sansan  Ape,  and  it  could  be  foreseen  that  the  discovery  of 
a  fossil  Ape  would  be  followed  by  that  of  fossil  Man."19 

The  insight  of  Etienne  Geoff roy  Saint-Hilaire  did  not  err. 
Cuvier's  distinguished  adversary  had  pointed  out  "the  im- 
portant bearing  on  natural  philosophy"  of  Lartet's  discovery, 
destined  "to  inaugurate  a  new  era  of  knowledge  relating 
to  human  life."  But  he  added,  "the  time  for  philosophical 
research  is  not  yet." 

Even  in  1845,  Lartet  boldly  admitted  the  possibility  of 
Tertiary  Man.  "This  corner  of  ground,"  he  said,  speaking 
of  Sansan,  "once  supported  a  population  of  mammals  of 
much  higher  degree  than  those  here  to-day.  .  .  .  Here  arc 
represented  various  degrees  in-  the  scale  of  animal  life,  up 
to  and  including  the  ane.  A  higher  type,  that -of  the  human 


FOSSIL    AND    PREHISTORIC    MAN  5! 

kind,  has  not  been  found  here,  but  we  must  not  hastily  con< 
elude  from  its  absence  in  these  ancient  deposits  that  it  did 
not  exist.  .  .  ."  These  were  prophetic  words.  It  seems  as  if 
Lartet  had  "a  presentiment  of  the  important  part  he  was  to 
play  later,  in  the  scientific  discussion  regarding  the  co- 
existence of  Man  with  the  large  Quaternary  mammals." 

About  the  year  1850,  E.  Lartet  went  to  Paris  to  continue 
his  researches.  He  settled  near  the  Museum,  the  scientific 
treasures  of  which  attracted  him,  and  where  he  found  none 
but  friends.  In  1856,  he  described  the  jaw  of  a  new  anthropoid 
ape,  Dryopithecus.  Three  years  later  he  published  a  com- 
prehensive monograph  on  the  fossil  Proboscidians.  But  his 
writings  on  the  animals  of  former  times  constantly  led  him 
back  to  the  great  problem  of  fossil  Man.  With  great  sym- 
pathy and  interest  he  followed  the  efforts  of  Boucher  de 
Perthes. 

On  the  iQth  of  March,  1860,  E.  Lartet  sent  to  the  Academic 
des  Sciences  a  note  on  the  occurrence  of  Man  in  Western 
Europe  in  geological  times,  entitled,  "Sur  Panciennete  geo- 
logique  de  Pespece  humaine  dans  PEurope  occidentale."  The 
Academic  has  been  accused  of  refusing  to  print  this  memoir, 
and  the  fact  is  that  only  the  title  appears  on  p.  599  of  Vol- 
ume L  of  the  Comptes  rendus.  For  the  text,  reference  must 
be  made  to  the  Archives  des  Sciences  de  la  Bibliotheque 
universelle  de  Geneve,  or  to  the  Quarterly  Journal  of  the 
Geological  Society  of  London,  which  received  it  with  en- 
thusiasm." 20 

Now,  this  memoir  was  of  prime  importance.  Along  with 
a  description  of  the  celebrated  cave  of  Aurignac,  which  the 
author  had  just  explored,  it  contained  certain  suggestions  of 
great  significance,  which  were  renewed  and  developed  the 
following  year  (1861)  in  the  Annales  des  Sciences  na- 
turelles  under  the  title:  "New  researches  on  the  coexistence 
of  Man  and  of  the  large  fossil  Mammals  regarded  as  char- 
acteristic of  the  last  geological  period."  21 

It  would  seem  that  even  from  the  time  of  his  first  purely 
geological  writings,  E.  Lartet  had  been  an  opponent  of  the 


52  THEMAKINGOFMAN 

•cataclysmic  theory  of  the  world's  development.  It  required  a 
great  deal  of  independence  and  true  courage  to  challenge 
a  theory  held  by  the  scientific  pundits.  This  courage  he 
showed,  a  fact  which  sufficiently  explains  the  hostile  atti- 
tude of  Elie  de  Beaumont. 

In  1858,  in  his  note  "On  the  Ancient  Migrations  of  Mam- 
mals of  the  Present  Period,"  22  he  had  already  assailed  the 
idea  of  deluges  or  other  catastrophes.  "The  day  is  perhaps 
not  far  distant,"  he  said,  "when  the  erasure  of  the  word 
cataclysm  from  the  vocabulary  of  practical  geology  will  be 
proposed."  Or  again:  "It  is  an  abuse  of  the  technical  language 
of  science  to  use  such  high-sounding  expressions  as  up- 
heavals of  the  globe,  cataclysms,  universal  disturbances,  gen- 
eral catastrophes,  and  so  on,  for  they  immediately  give  an 
exaggerated  significance  to  phenomena  geographically  very 
limited.  .  .  .  The  great  harmony  of  physical  and  organic 
evolution  on  the  surface  of  the  globe  has  in  no  case  been 
affected.  Aristotle  perfectly  understood  these  alternating 
movements  of  the  earth,  which  have  at  different  times 
changed  the  relations  of  continents  and  seas;  he  knew 
equally  well  how  to  reduce  to  its  proper  regional  proportions 
the  Deucalian  Deluge,  exaggerated  and  embellished  by 
poetic  fiction.  Apparently  this  great  naturalist  also  had  to 
combat  the  fantastic  ideas  of  the  cataclysmic  philosophers 
of  his  time,  and  the  severe  reproach  he  flung  at  them,  might 
just  as  well,  after  2,000  years,  be  applied  to  certain  of  our 
geologists  or  palaeontologists  of  the  present  day:  'It  is  absurd, 
on  account  of  small  and  transitory  changes,  to  invoke  the 
upheaval  of  the  whole  universe.' " 23 

The  memoir  contains  another  new  and  suggestive  idea. 
The  history  of  Man,  like  that  of  animals  or  like  any  geo- 
logical history,  is  indeed  a  continuous  story,  and  demands 
-a  chronological  method.  "Were  it  possible  to  establish  that 
the  disappearance  of  the  animal  species  characteristic  of  the 
last  geological  period  was  successive  and  not  simultaneous, 
a  means  would  be  discovered  of  establishing,  at  one  and  the 
same  time,  the  relative  chronology  of  the  unstratified  fossil 


FOSSIL    AND    PREHISTORIC    MAN  53 

deposits  and  their  time  relations  with  these  diluvial  beds 
whose  geognostic  bearings  are  well  defined."  Accordingly, 
Lartet  proposed  a  "palaeontological  chronology,"  which  for 
the  first  time  allowed  a  classification  to  be  made  of  the  beds 
in  which  traces  of  fossil  man  had  been  found  up  to  that 
time.  "Thus,  in  the  period  of  Primitive  Man  there  would 
be  the  Age  of  the  Great  Cave  Bear,  the  Age  of  the  Elephant 
and  of  the  Rhinoceros,  the  Age  of  the  Reindeer  and  the 
Age  of  the  Aurochs;  much  after  the  manner  recently  adopted 
by  archaeologists  in  their  divisions  of  Stone  Age,  Bronze 
Age,  and  Iron  Age." 

This  classification  could  not  be  perfect,  but  its  actual  ex- 
istence was  of  great  value,  in  that  it  asserted  the  geological 
nature  of  the  problem  of  Man's  existence,  showed  how  the 
history  of  our  ancestors  must  be  sought  for  in  bygone  ages, 
and  fixed  some  milestones  on  the  long  journey.  So  a  broacl 
path  was  thrown  open  to  investigators.  In  his  eulogy  of 
Lartet,  Hamy  has  well  said:  "To  the  doctrine  of  the  an- 
tiquity of  Mankind,  Aurignac  converted  a  number  of  dis- 
ciples, who  were  the  more  valuable  in  that  they  translated 
enthusiasm  into  productive  activity." 

Soon  after,  in  1864,  E.  Lartet  discovered  the  famous  en- 
graved mammoth  from  La  Madeleine,  where,  in  delightful 
fashion,  one  of  our  distant  forebears  had  himself  inscribed 
decisive  proof  of  his  geological  antiquity.  Along  with  Christy, 
an  Englishman,  he  undertook  the  investigation  of  the  de- 
posits of  the  Vezere  Valley,  the  fame  of  which  is  now  world 
wide.  Thus  he  succeeded  in  revealing  the  astonishing  artistic 
culture  of  the  men  of  the  Reindeer  Age.  The  work  in  which 
so  many  fine  discoveries  were  to  have  been  described  and 
expounded  has  unfortunately  never  been  completed.24 

In  1869  Lartet  was  chosen  to  succeed  d'Archiac  in  the 
Chair  of  Palaeontology  in  the  French  National  Museum  of 
Natural  History.  He  was  then  sixty-eight  years  of  age,,  and 
he  died  some  months  later,  without  having  delivered  his 
first  lecture. 


54  THEMAKINGOFMAN 

If  I  have  spoken  at  length  of  Edouard  Lartet,  it  is,  first, 
from  admiration  for  so  independent  and  disinterested  a  man 
of  science;  secondly,  to  show  the  outstanding  part  which, 
through  him,  France  played  in  the  creation  of  the  science 
of  Human  Palaeontology;  and,  finally,  because  the  achieve- 
ment of  our  illustrious  countryman  has  not  always  been 
sufficiently  understood.  To  the  public  at  large  it  is  unknown, 
and  the  scientist  has  not  appraised  it  at  its  true  value.  And 
yet  the  passing  of  the  years  only  adds  to  the  fame  of  Edouard 
Lartet. 

Lartet's  example  was  followed  in  France  by  numerous 
scholars  and  investigators,  P.  Gervais,  de  Vibraye,  A.  Milne- 
Edwards,  Louis  Lartet,  Piette  and  others;  whilst,  in  Belgium, 
Dupont  took  up  and  completed  the  work  of  Schmerling;  and 
in  England,  where  a  good  fight  had  also  been  waged,  Lub- 
bock,  John  Evans,  and  Boyd  Dawkins  published  very  valu- 
able works  on  Prehistory.25 

In  1864,  in  order  that  the  progress  of  the  science  might  be 
recorded,  Gabriel  de  Mortillet  founded  a  special  Review, 
Matiriaux  four  I'histoire  naturclle  et  primitive  de  I'Homme, 
which  he  soon  placed  under  the  able  and  liberal  editorship 
of  Emile  Cartailhac.  Keeping  the  archaeological  standpoint 
especially  in  view,  G.  de  Mortillet  revised  Lartet's  classifica- 
tion. With  a  lucidity  that  appealed  to  the  comprehension  of 
every  investigator,  he  grouped  systematically  the  innu- 
merable facts  of  a  science  whose  birth  he  had  seen,  and  to 
the  development  of  which  he  had  largely  contributed. 

It  was  not  long  before  prehistorians  began  to  hold  in- 
ternational congresses,  where  results  in  one  country  were 
compared  with  those  in  others,  where  general  questions  were 
discussed,  and  where  interdependent  labors  were  planned, 
for  discoveries  had  meantime  spread  to  every  continent. 
So,  step  by  step,  we  reach  the  present  day,  when  researches  in 
prehistoric  archaeology  have  become  the  fashion,  when  every 
one  grubs  in  the  most  ancient  of  our  archives,  too  often, 
alas,  with  an  utterly  inadequate  scientific  training. 

Thus  arose   the   science   of   Prehistory   or   Prehistoric 


FOSSIL    AND    PREHISTORIC    MAN  55 

Archaeology,  founded  on  facts  which,  although  supplied  by 
all  kinds  of  material  things,  nevertheless  throw  a  tolerably 
clear  light  on  the  intellectual  and  moral  character  of  the 
Men  regarding  whom  History  is  silent. 

In  the  meantime  what  progress  had  been  made  in  research 
regarding  the  physical  and  zoological  characters  of  Man 
himself?  What  steps  had  marked  the  progress  of  Human 
Palaeontology  in  the  strict  sense  of  the  words,  the  sense  it: 
which  they  are  mainly  used  in  this  work? 

After  the  discovery  by  Ami  Boue,  in  1823,  of  a  human 
skeleton  in  the  loess  of  the  Rhine  Valley,  a  discovery  the 
significance  of  which  Cuvier  utterly  repudiated,  there  fol- 
lowed a  barren  period.  Every  find  of  human  bones  was  now 
regarded  a  priori  with  suspicion.  But  when  the  great  an- 
tiquity of  Man  was  demonstrated  by  means  of  dressed  flints 
and  proved  by  geology,  discoveries  of  human  bones  seemed 
more  natural:  they  increased  in  number.20  No  fewer  than 
eighty  have  been  recorded  from  the  beginning  of  the  nine- 
teenth century  to  our  own  day.  Palaeontology  would  thus 
seem  to  have  been  provided  with  material  sufficient  to 
enable  it  to  attain  to  great  results  and  to  frame  important 
conclusions. 

Unfortunately  these  discoveries  are  far  from  being  of  equal 
value  because  of  uncertainty  regarding  the  age  or  even  the 
authenticity  of  many  of  them.  It  is  very  easy  to  fall  into 
error  in  dealing  with  such  material.  In  many  a  place  the 
earth  is  but  human  dust.  Nothing,  alas!  is  more  common 
in  superficial  soils  than  the  skeletons  of  our  fellows.  Of 
course,  the  physical  characters  of  the  bones  vary  according 
to  the  date  of  their  burial;  and  the  burials  of  historic  times 
present  features  which  would  hardly  deceive  a  practiced  eye. 
In  the  case  of  prehistoric  burials  or  of  bone-remains  of  the 
Quaternary  Period,  one  important  character  must  be  taken 
into  account,  that  of  fossilization,  by  which  is  meant 
physical  and  chemical  transformation  of  a  bone,  whict 
ing  lost  its  organic  substance  has  become  pervade 
eral  matter  and  so  more  dense.  But  this  cha 


56  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

sufficient;  the  degree  of  fossilization  may  vary  according  to 
certain  conditions  of  the  environment,  independent  of  age. 
Appeal  must  then  be  made  to  the  conditions  of  the  soil 
deposit,  to  geological  and  palaeontological  criteria.  When  a 
discovery  is  made,  however,  a  competent  observer  is  rarely 
on  the  spot,  ready  to  make  the  necessary  investigation.  At 
the  present  day,  now  that  the  attention  of  an  enlightened 
public  has  been  directed  to  such  events  and  their  importance 
is  understood,  the  assistance  of  professional  scientists  is 
usually  invited;  and  several  recent  discoveries  have  also  been 
made  following  upon  systematic  excavation  conducted  by 
experts.  Formerly  this  was  not  the  case,  for  then  the  geology 
and  the  palaeontology  of  the  Quaternary  formations  had 
barely  been  outlined.  Many  human  skulls  and  skeletons, 
carelessly  exhumed  without  scientific  investigation,  have 
been  placed  in  museums,  where  anthropologists  study  them 
without  sufficiently  inquiring  into  the  record  of  remains 
the  origin  and  exact  bearings  of  which  cannot  now  be  ac- 
curately determined. 

As  the  question  of  age  is  a  factor  of  prime  importance  in 
palaeontology,  scientific  accuracy  demands  a  courageous 
elimination  of  all  those  osteological  evidences  the  high  an- 
tiquity of  which  is  not  assured.  After  close  scrutiny  of  all 
the  discoveries  recorded  up  to  the  present  day,  I  retain  for 
consideration  in  this  book  only  those  whose  authenticity  and 
age  are  beyond  dispute.  Here  it  is  better  to  err  through  ex- 
cess rather  than  through  lack  of  prudence. 

The  first  and  one  of  the  most  important  stages  centered 
in  the  discovery,  in  1856,  of  the  famous  brainpan  or  cranium 
at  Neanderthal  in  Rhenish  Prussia.  This  object  was  ex- 
amined in  succeeding  years  by  various  naturalists.  With  its 
considerable  dimensions,  its  receding  forehead,  its  enormous 
orbital  ridges  and  its  flattened  brainbox,  the  skull  presented 
fro  extraordinary  appearance.  Schaaffhausen  in  Germany, 
aiicf*Huxley  in  England,  declared  it  "the  most  bestial  of  all 
known  ^Iniman  skulls,"  and  emphasized  its  simian  or 
thqjikey-li£e<  Characters. 


FOSSIL    AND    PREHISTORIC    MAN  57 

This  happened  at  a  time  when  the  scientific  world  was 
in  a  state  of  effervescence.  Evolutionist  ideas  had  begun  to 
spread.  Lamarck,  who,  long  before  Darwin,  had  not  hesi- 
tated to  attack  the  formidable  problem  of  the  origin  of  Man, 
and  who  conceived  it  as  occurring  through  the  modification 
of  a  Quadrumane,  had  been  forgotten  before  he  had  even 
been  understood  or  appreciated.  But  now  Darwin  published 
The  Origin  of  Species,  Boucher  de  Perthes  began  to  gain 
ground,  and  Albert  Gaundry  made  public  the  results  of  his 
first  researches  on  the  transformations  of  fossil  mammals; 
Broca  founded  the  Societe  d'Anthropologie  de  Paris,  and 
Huxley  wrote  his  celebrated  memoir  on  the  Evidence  as  to 
Man's  Place  in  Nature  (1863),  which  was  followed  soon  after 
by  Carl  Vogt's  excellent  Vorlesungen  ilber  den  Menschen 


The  Neanderthal  skull,  by  reason  of  characters  obviously 
of  low  type,  and  a  conformation  resembling  that  of  the  skulls 
of  certain  large  Apes,  supported  the  evolutionist  theory;  in 
the  eyes  of  philosophic  naturalists  it  appeared  to  be  a  sort 
of  primitive  form  lessening  the  depth  of  the  gulf  which  now 
separates  the  Apes  from  Men. 

But  this  interpretation  was  not  to  the  liking  of  anti- 
evolutionists  of  the  old  school.  The  scientific  value  of  the 
skull  was  disputed  and  denied.  As  it  had  been  found  by 
workmen,  geologists  and  palaeontologists  took  exception  to 
the  obscurity  of  its  origin.  Eminent  anthropologists,  among 
them  Virchow,  regarded  it  as  a  pathological  specimen  of 
the  skull  of  an  idiot.  I  shall  say  nothing  of  the  zealous  and 
often  foolish  intervention  of  the  defenders  of  religion,  in  a 
debate  to  which  religion  could  only  contribute  arguments 
animated  by  sentiment,  by  tradition  or  by  prejudice.  It  was 
an  intervention  of  this  kind  which  provoked  the  famous 
epigram  of  Huxley,  that  it  was  better  to  be  a  perfect  Ape 
than  a  degenerate  Adam. 

Just  at  this  time  there  occurred  the  notorious  episode  of 
the  jawbone  of  Moulin-Quignon.  In  1863,  Boucher  dc 


58  THE    MAKIN'G    OF    MAN 

Perthes,  desirous  at  all  costs  of  discovering  the  fossil  bones 
of  the  Man  who  had  dressed  the  flints  of  Amiens  and  of 
Abbeville,  found  a  human  jawbone  in  conditions  which 
stirred  up  lengthy  polemics  and  caused  floods  of  ink  to  flow. 
It  would  indeed  seem  as  if  on  this  occasion  the  famous  and 
worthy  archaeologist  had  been  the  victim  of  a  fraud.  The 
English  scientists  who  had  so  emphatically  supported  his 
views  regarding  the  dressed  flints,  refused  to  believe  in  the 
authenticity  of  the  jawbone;  and  one  of  them,  John  Evans, 
pronounced  upon  it  a  Rcquiescat  in  pace,  of  which  the  echoes 
have  not  yet  died  away.  This,  clearly,  was  not  calculated  to 
add  to  the  credit  of  the  new  theory. 

But  in  1865,  Ed.  Dupont,  in  the  course  of  scientific  ex- 
plorations organized  by  the  Belgian  Government  in  the 
caves  of  that  country,  found  a  human  lower  jaw  in  one  of 
the  excavations  on  the  left  bank  of  the  Lesse,  the  Naulctte 
pit.  The  circumstances  of  its  deposit  left  no  loophole  for 
criticism.  Now,  this  jaw,  taken  from  a  deep  bed,  where  it 
lay  along  with  bones  of  the  Mammoth,  Rhinoceros,  Rein- 
deer, etc.,  differed  from  the  jaws  of  ?J  modern  Men  in  one 
important  character  which  struck  the  observer  at  first 
glance,  the  absence  of  a  chin.  Here  again  was  the  stamp 
of  the  ape,  associated  none  the  less  with  other  characters 
which  were  purely  human.  One  was  tempted  to  associate 
the  jaw  from  La  Naulette  with  the  Neanderthal  skull,  as 
belonging  to  a  similar  lowly  type. 

In  1868,  Louis  Lartet,  following  with  distinccion  in  his 
father's  footsteps,  described  the  rock-shelter  of  Cro-Magnon 
on  the  banks  of  La  Vezere,  in  the  Dordogne,  from  which 
several  human  skeletons  had  already  been  obtained.  On 
this  occasion  the  skeletons  presented  all  the  features  of 
modern  Man;  so  much  so  indeed,  that  their  great  antiquity 
was  not  acknowledged  by  most  anthropologists,  who  could 
not  bring  themselves  to  abandon  their  preconceived  notions 
and  to  throw  so  far  back  into  the  past  the  physical  type  of 
Homo  sapiens.  So  it  was  also  With  the  skeleton  found  in 
1872  by  M.  Riviere  in  one  of  thfe  caves  of  Grimaldi.  The 


FOSSIL    AND    PREHISTORIC    MAN  59 

"Mentone  Man,"  closely  resembling  the  Cro-Magnon  type 
was  considered  to  be  Neolithic.  The  geological  bearings 
were,  however,  perfectly  definite. 

On  the  other  hand,  far  too  much  importance  was  laid  on 
some  skeletons  obtained,  about  the  same  time,  from  more 
or  less  ancient  and  more  or  less  disturbed  river  deposits  of 
the  Seine,  at  Clichy,  Crenelle,  and  elsewhere. 

In  1870,  Hamy 27  published  a  summary  of  the  state  of  the 
science  at  this  time,  in  a  book  which  may  still  be  consulted 
with  profit.  In  the  following  year,  Darwin,28  tackling  the 
great  problem  of  the  descent  of  Man,  published  a  work  in 
which  palaeontological  facts  do  not  and  could  not  as  yet  play 
any  but  a  secondary  part,  but  in  which  the  famous  naturalist 
expounded  in  all  its  bearings  the  theory  of  the  animal  origin 
of  Man,  formerly  precisely  stated  by  the  great  Lamarck.29 
To  this  theory  the  German  naturalist  Haeckel  had  just  given 
his  strong  support  in  his  Generelle  Morphologic  der  Or* 
gamsmen  (Berlin,  1866)  .30 

About  the  same  time,  Broca 31  published  some  excellent 
studies  on  the  comparative  morphology  of  Apes  and  Man, 
and  thus  placed  his  great  craniological  knowledge  at  the 
service  of  human  palaeontology.  During  the  years  1873  to 
1882,  de  Quatrefages  and  Hamy  contributed  to  this  branch 
of  science  a  great  work,82  in  which  descriptions  of  the 
principal  cranial  types  of  modern  Man  were  preceded  by 
long  systematic  discussions  on  all  the  fossil  or  pseudo-fossil 
evidences  then  known. 

The  year  1887  was  marked  by  an  interesting  discovery 
of  two  human  skeletons  in  a  cave  at  Spy  in  the  province 
of  Namur.  This  was  an  event  of  considerable  scientific  im- 
portance, fortunate  in  two  respects:  first,  in  that  the  Quater- 
nary Age  of  the  deposit,  investigated  by  geologists,  was  not 
open  to  question;  secondly  and  especially,  because  the  Spy 
skulls  resembled  in  every  way  the  Neanderthal  skull.  The 
hypothesis  of  the  pathological  nature  of  the  latter  was  defi- 
nitely destroyed  by  the  fine  report  of  Fraipont  and  Lohest, 
which  helped  to  confirm  the  opinior^pjLthose  who  believed 


60  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

in  the  actual  existence  of  an  ancient  human  type  very  differ- 
ent from,  and  of  lower  nature  than,  modern  types. 

This  opinion  was  notably  strengthened  some  years  later, 
in  1894,  by  the  work  of  Dubois  on  the  remains  of  Pithe- 
canthropus, discovered  in  Java  in  1891.  It  is  sufficient  at 
present  to  state  the  indisputable  fact  that  the  skull-cap  of 
Pithecanthropus  really  embodies  a  morphological  type 
ideally  intermediate  between  the  skulls  of  anthropoid  apes, 
such  as  the  Chimpanzee  or  the  Gibbon,  and  a  human  skull. 

These  fine  discoveries  instigated  others.  A  positive  fever 
took  hold  of  investigators;  and  excavations  carried  out  in 
almost  every  part  yielded  many  evidences,  but  of  very  un- 
equal value. 

Amongst  the  most  important  of  the  later  discoveries,  first 
in  order  of  time  must  be  mentioned  that  at  Krapina  in 
Croatia,  which  brought  to  light  many  human  remains  of 
Neanderthal  type. 

Next  come  the  results  of  the  important  explorations  under- 
taken by  the  Prince  of  Monaco,  Albert  I,  in  the  Grimaldi 
Caves.  Several  human  skeletons  were  exhumed  in  the 
Grotte  des  Enfants:  some  belonged  to  the  Cro-Magnon 
type,  the  Palaeolithic  Age  of  which  was  here  definitely  estab- 
lished; while  another,  the  most  ancient,  revealed  to  Profes- 
sor Verneau  the  existence  of  a  different  type,  of  negroid 
character,  the  "Grimaldi  type." 

In  1907,  a  new  fact  of  prime  importance  was  brought  for- 
ward. Up  to  that  date,  the  Man  of  the  oldest  dressed  flints 
was  known  only  by  the  products  of  his  handiwork — no  au- 
thentic relic  of  his  skeleton  had  been  obtained.  Then  Schoe- 
tensack  described  a  jawbone  found  in  the  ancient  gravels 
of  Mauer  near  Heidelberg.  And  this  jawbone,  very  much 
older  than  those  from  La  Naulette,  from  Spy,  or  from 
Krapina,  presented  a  still  more  primitive  appearance. 

By  systematic  excavations  carried  out  in  Francfe,  the  Abbes 
Bouyssonie  and  Bardon,  Capitan  and  Peyrony,  and  Henri 
Martin,  discovered  in  human  settlements,  deep  in  the  caves 
or  shelters  of  La  Chapelle-aux-Saints  in  the  Department  of 


FOSSIL    AND    PREHISTORIC    MAN  6l 

Correze,  of  La  Ferrassie  in  the  Dordogne,  and  of  La  Quina 
in  Charente,  several  skeletons  and  portions  of  skeletons  of 
men  of  Neanderthal  type. 

Human  palaeontology  has  thus  been  furnished  with  records 
of  exceptional  value,  which  have  enabled  us  to  gain  a  fuller 
knowledge  of  this  ancient  type  than  we  possess  of  many 
modern  savages.33 

After  a  considerable  period  of  relative  inactivity  in  the 
sphere  of  human  palaeontology,  England,  which  claims 
a  most  honorable  part  in  the  foundation  and  development 
of  the  science,  was  seized  with  new  enthusiasm  for  it.  In 
addition  to  some  recent  discoveries,  the  importance  of  which 
was  overestimated,  such  as  that  of  the  Ipswich  skeleton,  con- 
sidered to  belong  to  a  period  more  remote  than  the  Quater- 
nary, but  in  reality  barely  prehistoric,  there  occurred  the 
Piltdown  find,  studied  from  the  anatomical  point  of  view 
by  the  palaeontologist  Smith  Woodward.  Although  its  par- 
ticular and  general  significance  are  still  disputed,  it  is  cer- 
tainly a  most  important  discovery,  as  we  shall  see  later. 

So  far,  I  have  spoken  only  of  Europe,  a  very  small  part 
of  the  globe,  yet  the  rest  is  almost  unknown  from  the  point 
of  view  which  interests  us  here.  Researches  carried  out  in 
the  two  Americas,  especially  noteworthy  being  those  o£ 
Ameghino  in  South  America,  have  not  yet  produced  any 
conclusive  discovery.  Asia,  the  outstanding  importance  of 
which  will  one  day  become  apparent,  has  yielded  no  results 
to  speak  of,  except  of  an  archaeological  nature.  Quite  recent 
discoveries  at  Boskop  in  South  Africa 34  as  well  as  at  Talgai 
in  Australia  show  that,  whenever  investigations  are  under- 
taken with  sufficient  resources  in  these  different  parts  of 
Che  globe,  great  results  will  be  forthcoming. 

NOTES 
1Thc  passage  is  thus  rendered  in  English  by  Creech  (1714). 

"And  Rage  and  furnish'd  yet  with  Sword  nor  Dart; 
With  Fists,  or  Boughs,  or  Stones  the  Warriours  fought; 
These  were  the  only  Weapons  Nature  taught: 


62  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

But  when  Flames  burnt  the  Trees,  and  scorch'd  the  Ground, 
Then  Brass  appeared,  and  Iron  fit  to  wound. 
Brass  first  was  us'd." 

2  Car  tail  hac,   E.,   L'dgc   de   pierre   dans  les  souvenirs   et  superstitions 
populaires  (Paris,  1878). 

3  See  for  the  whole  of  the  first  part  of  this  history:  Hamy,  E.  T., 
PrScis   de   Paleontologie    humaine    (Paris,    1870).    Id.,    "Materiaux    pour 
tervir  a  1'Histoire  de  I'archeologie  prehistorique"   (Revue  archeologique, 
1906).  Evans,  Sir  John,  Ancient  Stone  Implements,   2nd  ed.   (London, 
1897).  Cartailhac,  E.,  La  France  prehistorique  (Paris,  1889).  Reinach,  S., 
Description  raisonee  du  Musee  de  Saint-Germaine-en  Laye,  I  (Paris,  1889). 
Macalister,  R.  A.  S.,  A  Text-book  of  European  Archeology,  vol.  i.  The 
Palaeolithic  Period  (Cambridge,  1921). 

4Mercati,  M.,  Mctallotheca,  opus  posthumum,  Rome,  1717,  p.  243.  Sec 
on  this  subject,  Vayson,  "Les  precurseurs  de  la  prchistoire"  (L'Anthropo- 
logie,  xxxi,  p.  357). 

5  Buff  on,  Epoques  de  la  "Nature  (Paris,  1778). 

9  Evans,  Sir  John,  loc.  cit.f  p.  573.  John  Frcre's  account  is  to  be  found 
in  Archtcologia,  vol.  xiii,  1800,  p.  204. 

7  "Discours  sur  les  revolutions  dc  la  surface  du  globe"  (in  Recherches 
•ur  les  ossements  fossiles,  4th  ed.,  vol.  i.,  p.  217). 

8  Cartailhac,  E.,  "Georges  Cuvier  et  i'ancienncte*   dc  rHommc"   (Afa- 
teriaux  pour  I'Hist.  nat.  et  primitive  de  I'Homme,  1884,  p.  27). 

9  Annales  des  sciences  naturelles,  vol.  xviii,  9829,  p.  258. 
10Gossclet,  J.,  Constant  Prevost,  Lille,  1896,  p.  165. 

11  See  Ledieu,  A.,  Boucher  de  Perthes,  sa  vie,  ses  ocuvres,  Abbeville, 
1885. 

12  See  Meunier,  Victor,  Les  Ancetres  d'Adam,  Thieullen  Ed.,  Paris,  1900. 
This  failure  was  probably  due  in  part  to  the  fact  that  Boucher  de  Perthes 
associated  with  true  primitive  instruments,  as  if  they  were  of  the  same 
significance,   other    stone   figures   or   symbolic   stones   which   were   only 
"sports  of  Nature,"  and  which  are  now  recognized  as  of  no  account.  But 
how  was  it  possible  at  that  time  to  separate  the  tares  from  the  wheat? 

13  Meunier,  V.,  loc.  cit.,  p.  Ix. 

14  For  an  account  of  this  intervention,  see  Falconer,  H.,  Palteontological 
Memoirs,  vol.  ii,  p.  596;  Prcstwich,  "On  the  Occurrence  of  Flint  Imple* 
ments,  Associated  with  the  Remains  of  Extinct  Mammalia"   (Proc.  Roy. 
Soc.,  1859). 

15  Gaundry,  A.,  "Contemporane'ite'  de  I'espece  humaine  et  de  diverses 
especes  animal es  aujourd'hui  e*teintes"  (Comptes  rendus  de  I' Academic  des 
Sciences,  3rd  October,   1859). 

16  Comptes  rendus  de  I' Academic  des  Sciences,  i8th  May,  1863. 

17  The  persistence  of  this  injurious  influence,  which  continues  even  to 
our  own  day  in  a  more  or  less  feeble  or  unconscious  form,  is  shown  by  the 
following  facts:  At  the  death  of  Boucher  de  Perthes,  his  works  were  with- 
drawn from  sale  by  decision  of  his  family  and  sold  for  waste  paper.  Some 
years  afterwards  Victor  Meunier  wrote  his  book,  Les  Ancetres  d'Adam, 
Histoire  de  I'Homme  fossile.  The  book  was  .printed  in   1875,  but  was 
never  published.  It  gave  an  account  of  the  "martyrdom"  of  Boucher  de 
Perthes,  and  the  publisher,   afraid  of  incurring  the  displeasure  of  the 


FOSSIL    AND    PREHISTORIC    MAN  63 

Academy,  suppressed  the  whole  issue.  In  1900  the  firm  of  Fischbacher 
published  a  new  edition  edited  by  A.  Thieullen,  a  warm  admirer  «£ 
Boucher  de  Perthes.  It  is  a  work  of  great  interest. 

18  The  expression  is  due  to  Serres — "Notes  sur  la  Paleontologic  humaine" 
(C.  R.  Ac.  Set.,  xxxvii,  1853,  p.  518). 

19  Fischer,  P.,  "Note  sur  les   travaux  scientifiques  d'Edouard  Lartet" 
(Bull,  de  la  Soc.  geocog.  de  France,  2nd  ser.,  xxix,  p.  246). 

20  "It  was  too  soon  to  announce  these  truths  to  the  Academic  des  Sci- 
ences; it  did  not  understand  that,  in  refusing  to  publish  the  forecast  of 
£.  Lartet,  it  was  placing  itself  in  the  backwash  of  geological  and  anthro- 
pological progress,  and  that  a  day  would  come  when  it  would  be  a  cause 
for  deep  regret  to  find  in  a  foreign  publication  seven  pages  so  creditable 
to  French  science,  rejected  by  the  Institute  of  France." — E.   Cartailhac, 
in  lift. 

21  "Nouvelles  recherchcs  sur  la  co-existence  de  I'Homme  et  des  grands 
Mammifercs  toss  lies  reputes  caractefistiques  dc  la  dermere  epoque  geolo* 
gique." 

22  "Sur  les  migrations  anciennes  des  Mammiferes  de  1'epoquc  actuclle." 

23  "Ridiculum  enim  est,  propter  parvas  et  momentaneas  permutationes, 
movere  ipsum  totum"  (yc\oidov  yap,  etc.,  Aristotle,  Meteorol.,  i,  I,  c.  2). 

24  Lartct,  E.,  and  Christy,  H.,  Reliquiae  aquitamcce:  being  contributions 
to  the  archeology  and  paleontology  of  Pcrigord  (Paris,  1866-1875,  v°l-  i» 
in  410,  with  102  plates). 

25  Lubbock,  John,  Prehistoric  Times   (London,   1867,   7th  cd.,   1913); 
French  translation  by  Barbier,  under  the  title  L'Homme  avant  I'Histoire 
(Paris,   1867,   2nd  ed.,    1871).  Evans,    John,   Ancient  Stone  Implements 
(London,  1872,  2nd  cd.,  1897).  Dawkins,  W.  Boyd,  Cave  Hunting  (Lon- 
don, 1874);  Early  Man  in  Britain  (London,  1880). 

20  See  Quatrefagcs,  A.  dc,  and  Hamy,  E.  T.,  Crania  ethnical  Les  Crane* 
des  races  htimames  (Paris,  1882).  Premiere  partie.  Races  humaines  fossiles. 

27  Hamy,  E.  T.,  Precis  de  Palcontologie  humaine   (Paris,  1870). 

28  Darwin,  C.,   The   Descent  of  Man    (London,   1871). 

29  Lamarck,  Philosophic  Zoologique,  1809,  i,  p.  337. 

30  Sec  afso  Haeckel,  E.,  Histoire  de  la  Creation  (Fr.  trans.,  Paris,  1874). 
Anthropogenic  ou  histoire  de  Devolution  humaine  (Fr.  trans.,  Paris,  1877). 
Etat  actuel  de  nos  connaissances  sur  I'origine  de  I'Homme  (Paris,  1900). 
(English  editions  of  these  works  appeared  as  follows:  The  History  of 
Creation  (ist  Eng.  ed.,  London,  1875;  3rd,  1883);  The  Evolution  of  Man 
(Eng.  ed.,  London,  1879);  Our  Present  Knowledge  of  the  Descent  of  Mar* 
(1898). 

31Broca,  P.,  "L'ordrc  des  Primates"  (Bull,  de  la  Soc.  d'Anthrop.  de 
Paris,  2nd  series,  vol.  iv,  1869). 

32  Quatrefages,  A.  de,  and  Hamy,  E.  T.,  Crania  ethnica. 

88  Boule,  M.,  "L'Homme  fossile  de  La  Chapclle-aux-Saints"  (Annalc* 
dc  Palcontologie,  1911-1913). 

3*  And  at  Broken  Hill  Mine,  Rhodesia. 


THE  STRUCTURE  OF  PREHISTORIC  MAN* 

By  WILSON  D.  WALLIS 

A  NUMBER  of  human  skeletons,  or  parts  of  skeletons,  have 
been  found  which  undoubtedly  are  of  great  age.  Their  an- 
tiquity is  attested  by  the  geological  evidence  of  undisturbed 
superimposed  strata  beneath  which  these  skeletal  parts  re- 
posed, or  by  association  with  remains  of  animals  now  ex- 
tinct— incontrovertible  evidence  of  great  age.  The  oldest  of 
these  remains  is  that  of  a  skeleton  found  in  Java,  called 
Pithecanthropus  erectus,  or  "ape-man  erect,"  indicating  that 
irwas  believed  to  be  a  type  intermediate  between  man  and 
ape,  and  a  creature  who  walked  erect.  It  belonged  to  the 
last  part  of  the  pliocene  period,  or,  more  probably,  to  the 
early  pleistocene  and  is  probably  half  a  million  years  old. 

Only  portions  of  a  skeleton  were  found,  these  being  in 
separate  places,  though  within  the  radius  of  a  few  feet  and 
at  the  same  geological  horizon.  The  bones  generally  are  as- 
sumed to  belong  to  the  same  skeleton,  although  this  view 
may  be  challenged.  They  consist  of  a  calvarium,  or  skull 
cap,  with  prominent  brow  ridges  and  low  frontal  region, 
suggesting  small  brain  capacity,  a  capacity  estimated  as  850- 
900  cubic  centimeters,  some  200-300  c.c.  more  than  the  brain 
capacity  of  the  gorilla;  a  femur,  undoubtedly  human  but 
with  anthropoid  characteristics  and  possessing  a  large  third 
trochanter  (a  protuberance  below  the  great  trochanter  on 
the  upper  part  of  the  shaft),  a  femur  indicating  that  its 
possessor  walked  with  knees  flexed;  three  molar  teeth  of  a 
type  bordering  on  that  of  the  apes.  The  find  was  made  by 
Dubois  in  1891  and  was  exhibited  to  scientists  in  1894.  It 
was  not  until  1923  that  fellow-scientists  were  again  allowed 
to  examine  the  remains.  Hrdlicka  reports  them  more'human- 

*  An  Introduction  to  Anthropology.  New  York:  Harper  fc  Brothers. 

64 


FOSSIL    AND    PREHISTORIC    MAN  65 

like  than  the  casts  had  indicated.  This  is  in  accordance  with 
the  recent  description  which  Dubois  has  given  of  the  brain 
cast.  The  dentition,  likewise,  is  human  in  type.  The  pulp 
cavity  is  not  large  and  the  roots  of  the  teeth  are  fairly  long- 
in  contrast  with  the  teeth  of  the  Heidelberg  man.  As  in 
the  apes  and  in  the  more  primitive  races  of  man,  however, 
the  roots  are  widely  separated.  Though  the  crowns  of  the 
teeth  are  large,  they  have  a  transverse  diameter  in  excess 
of  their  sagittal  diameter,  which  is  a  trait  of  human  teeth 
in  distinction  from  those  of  the  apes,  in  whom  the  width 
of  the  molar  is  less  than  the  anteroposterior  length.  Al- 
though the  upper  wisdom  tooth  is  large,  it  is  smaller  than 
the  other  molars,  as  in  the  orang  and  in  contemporary  man. 

The  frontal  fissure,  associated  in  modern  man  with  the 
function  of  speech,  is  developed  more  than  in  the  apes, 
though  not  so  extensively  as  in  modern  man  from  which 
fact  Dubois  draws  the  conclusion  that  Pithecanthropus  was 
in  possession  of  speech.  But  it  is  very  doubtful  that  such  an 
inference  can  be  made  from  a  study  of  the  skull  cap.  All 
that  one  can  say,  at  most,  is  that  the  potentiality  for  speech 
was  there  so  far  as  brain  development  is  concerned.  The 
anatomist  cannot  tell  from  an  examination  of  the  skull  of 
modern  man  whether  or  not  the  possessor  had  speech,  much 
less  from  fossil  skulls. 

In  1890  Dubois  had  discovered  in  another  part  of  the 
island  of  Java  remains  of  a  large-brained  early  man  of 
pleistocene  date,  represented  by  portions  of  two  individuals. 
One  of  these  men,  known  as  Wadjak  II,  had  a  brain  volume 
estimated  at  1,650  c.c.,  which  is  very  large.  The  brain  size 
of  the  other  individual,  Wadjak  I,  is  estimated  at  1,550  c.c, 
(The  average  for  European  males  is  about  1,450  c.c.) 

These,  like  the  Talgai  remains  found  in  Queensland, 
Australia,  suggest  a  type  ancestral  to  the  modern  aborigines 
of  that  continent.  The  proportions  are  similar,  the  charac- 
teristics are  much  the  same,  but  they  are  present  in  tHesc 
fossils  in  more  pronounced  form.  The  estimated  cranial 
capacity  of  the  Talgai  skull  is  1,300  c.c.,  which  is  probably 


66  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

less  than  the  average  for  adults  of  the  type,  for  the  individual 
who  left  us  his  brain  case  on  the  Darling  Downs  was  a  lad 
some  fourteen  to  sixteen  years  of  age  and  had  not  attained 
full  development. 

The  Rhodesian  skull,  found  in  a  quarry  in  South  Africa 
in  1921,  has  been  the  subject  of  much  interest  among  anato- 
mists. Unfortunately,  all  geological  evidence  of  age  is  lacking, 
though  the  circumstances  of  the  find  do  not  preclude  the 
possibility  of  great  age.  It  is  one  of  the  most  primitive  of 
fossil  human  remains,  with  large  facial  area,  large  beetling 
brow  ridges,  and  large  teeth.  The  form  of  the  palate  is 
human,  for  it  has  the  horseshoe  shape  found  only  in  man. 
The  skull  resembles  that  of  Neanderthal  man,  but  in  some 
respects  is  more  primitive. 

Next  in  age,  perhaps,  is  the  Piltdown  skull,  found  in  1912 
in  the  county  of  Essex,  southern  England.  The  mandible 
is  of  primitive  form,  so  primitive  that  more  than  one 
anatomist  has  pronounced  it  that  of  a  chimpanzee,  though 
now  it  is  generally  accepted  as  human  and  as  belonging  to 
the  Piltdown  skull.  Cranial  capacity  has  been  variously  esti- 
mated at  from  1,170  c.c.  to  1,400  c.c.  The  skull  is  that  of  a 
woman  and,  if  we  accept  the  estimate  of  1,400  c.c.,  is  large 
for  a  female. 

The  Heidelberg  mandible,  found  in  1907  in  gravel  pits 
at  Mauer,  near  Heidelberg,  Germany,  is  admittedly  human.1 
The  jaw  is  massive,  containing  large  teeth  of  primitive 
form,  with  molars  ranging  in  size  as  in  the  gorilla,  rather 
than  as  in  contemporary  man;  the  chin  region  is  little  de- 
veloped and  is  receding.  The  ascending  ramus  is  of  the 
type  found  in  the  apes — broad,  thick,  with  shallow  sigmoid 
notch. 

Remains  of  Neanderthal  man  have  been  found  many 
times  in  western  and  southwestern  Europe,  in  some  cases 
nearly  complete  skeletal  remains.  The  skulls  are  character- 
ized by  heaviness,  roughness  of  outline,  large  occipital  pro- 
tuberance, heavy  eyebrow  ridges,  large  jaw  and  teeth. 

Among  English  finds  of  Neanderthal  age,  at  least  25,000 


FOSSIL    AND    PREHISTORIC    MAN  67 

to  30,000  years  ago,  may  be  mentioned  the  Dartford  skele- 
ton, found  in  the  third  river  terrace  of  the  Thames,  a  ter- 
race which  lies  from  forty  to  sixty  feet  above  the  level  of  the 
river.  If  a  thousand  years  be  allowed  for  the  wearing  down 
of  one  foot  of  terrace,  the  deposits  are  from  forty  thousand 
to  sixty  thousand  years  of  age.  In  the  sixty-foot  terrace  were 
found  remains  of  three  species  of  rhinoceros,  two  species  of 
elephant,  one  of  lion,  one  of  reindeer;  the  associated  animal 
remains  corroborating  the  geological  testimony  of  great  age. 
The  skeleton  is  that  of  a  male,  the  cranial  capacity  being 
about  1,750  c.c.  The  skull  is  long;  glabella  and  superciliary 
ridges  are  prominent.  The  chin  is  feebly  developed.  The  last 
molar  is  as  large  as  or  larger  than  the  first.  The  head  of  the 
femur  is  large.  All  of  these  characteristics  are  primitive  and 
suggest  membership  with  the  continental  Neanderthal  type. 

Neanderthal  man  was  followed,  probably  dispossessed,  by 
Cro-Magnon  man,  whose  type  is  more  like  that  of  modern 
man.  He  was  of  tall  stature,  erect,  and  had  a  large  cranial 
capacity,  his  brain  being  larger  than  that  of  the  average 
modern  European.  The  vault  of  the  skull  is  high — hypsice- 
phalic.  The  face  is  broad,  the  orbits  large,  square,  and  angu- 
lar. The  nose  is  narrow,  long  and  pointed.  The  upper 
alveolar  border,  containing  the  teeth,  projects.  The  lowei 
jaw  is  large,  but  there  is  a  well-developed  chin. 

Not  so  old  as  the  Dartford  skeleton  is  the  Tilbury  skele- 
ton, found  at  the  Tilbury  Docks,  on  the  north  bank  of  the 
Thames,  about  halfway  between  London  and  the  mouth  of 
that  river,  on  flat  marshy  land.  Its  date  is  late  paleolithic  or 
early  neolithic.  This  skull  is  more  like  that  of  modern  man 
The  chin  is  projecting;  the  capacity  of  the  skull  is  about  that 
of  the  average  Englishman,  1,500  c.c.  The  tibia  is  flattened 
from  side  to  side,  having  an  index  of  55,  whereas  that  of  the 
average  Englishman  is  62.  Otherwise  there  are  no  important 
differences  between  these  remains  and  those  of  contem- 
porary man. 

Last  may  be  mentioned  the  Essex  skeleton,  found  along 
the  coast  line  of  Essex  in  1910.  It  was  uncovered  below  a 


68  THEMAKINGOFMAN 

prehistoric  floor  which  was  under  eight  to  ten  feet  o£  clay, 
lying  amid  a  mass  of  neolithic  stone  implements  and  pot- 
tery. The  period  of  the  deposits  is  neolithic,  and  has  been 
estimated  as  about  2000  B.C.  The  skeleton  is  that  of  a  woman, 
about  five  feet  four  inches  in  height.  The  capacity  of  the 
skull  is  1,260  c.c.,  almost  the  average  for  London  women 
(1,300  c.c.),  and  the  length,  width,  and  height  of  the  skull 
are  each  about  the  average  of  London  women.  The  teeth 
are  regular  and  well  formed,  the  incisors  meet,  instead  of 
the  lower  passing  behind  the  upper,  as  in  contemporary  man, 
thus  permitting  a  side-to-side  grinding  which  our  incisors 
seldom  allow.  The  humerus  and  the  bones  of  the  forearm 
indicate  that  the  lady  was  right-handed.  The  remains  show 
a  close  approximation  to  modern  type. 

Many  anatomists  have  attributed  man's  evolution  to  the 
increase  in  the  size  and  convolutions  of  his  brain.  But,  as 
the  above  examples  have  frequently  indicated,  many  of 
these  early  men  had  larger  brains  than  the  average  con- 
temporary European.  The  average  of  Neanderthal  and  more 
particularly  that  of  Cro-Magnon  exceeded  the  average  of 
the  present-day  European.  Taking  into  account  all  of  the 
evidence,  it  can  scarcely  be  said  that  man's  brain  has  in- 
creased in  size  throughout  the  period  of  prehistoric  times, 
nor  is  there  evidence  that  his  brain  is  likely  to  increase  in 


size.2 


The  gradation  in  type  from  the  oldest  to  the  most  recent 
finds  is  by  no  means  complete  and  continuous,  yet  if  all 
the  skulls  and  skeletal  portions  of  prehistoric  times  are  ar- 
ranged in  order  of  age,  they  represent,  with  exceptions,  a 
transition  in  type,  a  series  in  which  the  oldest  is  most  like 
the  apes,  tapering  down  with  modernity  into  greater  simi- 
larity to  civilized  man.  The  evidence  of  geology  and  of 
palaeontology  is  to  the  effect  that  our  ancestors  resembled 
the  apes  more  than  do  our  contemporaries,  and  that  there 
has  been  through  the  millennia  a  gradual  but  undoubted 
transition  from  more  to  less  apelike  human  type.  The  im- 
port of  these  changes  is,  however,  not  so  clear. 


FOSSIL    AND    PREHISTORIC    MAN  6j 

Do  the  Characteristics  of  Prehistoric  Human  Remains  Im- 
ply A  Common  Ancestry  for  Man  and  Apes? 

Resemblance  to  the  apes  increases  as  we  trace  back  man's 
ancestry  into  neolithic  times,  the  later  paleolithic,  the 
earlier  paleolithic,  and  those  still  earlier  stages  represented 
by  the  remains  from  Heidelberg,  Piltdown,  and  Java.  This 
increasing  resemblance  has  been  accepted  as  demonstrating 
a  common  ancestry  for  man  and  apes.  Other  abundant  evi- 
dence indicates  a  common  ancestry,  but  the  evidence  of 
prehistoric  human  remains  does  not  in  itself  justify  the  in- 
ference, though,  of  course,  it  does  not  discountenance  it.  We 
base  this  conclusion  on  the  fact,  if  fact  it  be,  that  practically 
all  of  the  changes  in  man's  structure  traceable  through  pre- 
historic remains  are  the  result  of  changes  in  food  and  habits. 
Let  us  see  what  these  changes  are  and  what  shifts  in  man's 
diet  and  habits  would  account  for  them. 

The  most  notable  changes  are  found  in  the  skull.  Briefly, 
the  story  of  change  is  to:  a  higher  frontal  region;  increased 
bregmatic  height;  smaller  superciliary  ridges;  increased 
head  width;  less  facial  projection;  decreased  height  of  orbits 
and  a  shifting  of  the  transverse  diameter  downward  later- 
ally; a  more  ovoid  palate;  smaller  teeth;  diminished  rela- 
tive size  of  third  molar;  shorter,  wider,  and  more  ovoid 
mandible;  decrease  in  size  of  condyles;  decrease  in  distance 
between  condylar  and  coronoid  process;  in  general,  greater 
imoothness,  less  prominent  bony  protuberances,  less  of  the 
Angularity  and  "savageness"  of  appearance  which  charac- 
terize apes.  There  is  evolution  in  type,  but  the  evolution  is 
result  rather  than  cause.  The  change  in  type  is  notable,  but 
there  is  reason  to  assign  it  to  change  in  function,  to  use  and 
disuse. 

Practically  all  of  the  above-mentioned  features  of  the  skuU 
are  intimately  linked  together,  so  that  scarcely  can  one 
change  without  the  change  being  reflected  in  the  others, 
some  features,  of  course,  reflecting  the  change  more  im- 
mediately and  more  markedly  than  do  others.  If  we  sup. 
pose  that  man's  diet  and  his  manner  of  preparing  food  havi 


7O  THE    MAKING    OF 

changed,  we  have  an  index  to  most  of  the  skull  changes,  pro- 
vided the  dietary  change  has  been  from  uncooked  or  poorly 
cooked  to  better  cooked  food,  from  more  stringent  to  less 
stringent  diet.  Development  of  stronger  muscles  concerned 
with  chewing  will  bring  about  the  type  of  changes  which 
we  find  as  we  push  human  history  further  back  into  the 
remote  past. 

Change  is  most  marked  in  the  region  in  which  the  chew- 
ing muscles  function.  With  tough  food  and  large  chewing 
muscles  is  associated  a  large  mandible  with  broad  ramus, 
large  condyles,  heavy  bony  tissue.  The  larger  teeth  are  ac- 
commodated to  the  tougher  food  and  their  greater  specializa- 
tion  is   an   adaptation   to    the   needs  of   the   masticator. 
Larger   teeth   demand    more   alveolar    space,    and   there 
results  an  elongated  alveolar  region  with  greater  sagittal 
diameter,   and   a    more   prognathous   and   more   angular 
mandible.  The  increased  width  of  ramus  has  a  mechanical 
advantage  in  the  leverage  given  the  coronoid  process.  Thcf 
larger  condyle  affords  a  better  resisting  fulcrum  and  is  as- 
sociated with  the  greater  side-to-side  play  correlated  with 
longer  mandible  and  with  the  chewing  of  tougher  food.  The 
more  forward  projection  of  teeth  in  both  upper  and  lower 
alveolar  region  is  in  accordance  with  the  characteristics  of 
animals  which  use  the  teeth  for  the  mastication  of  tough 
food  and  no  doubt  is  a  function  of  vigorous  mastication. 
The  palate  conforms  to  the  mandible,  with  which  it  forms 
a  physiological  unit,  however  separate  morphologically  the 
two  may  be,  hence  is  long  and  less  arched.  Zygomatic  arches 
stand  out  for  the  accommodation  of  the  large  chewing 
muscles  which  pass  beneath  them.  The  adjacent  walls  of 
the  skull  are  flattened  and  forced  inward  by  the  pull  of 
muscles  which  of  necessity  is  inward  as  well  as  downward, 
producing  elongation  of  the  skull.  The  temporal  muscles 
i-each  far  up  on  the  skull,  giving  rise  to  a  high  temporal 
"idge;  they  extend  forward  as  well  as  backward,  giving  a 
more  prominent  occipital  region  and  a  more  constricted 
forward  region,  resulting,  on  the  forehead  region  of  the 


FOSSIL    AND    PREHISTORIC    MAN  Jl 

skull,  in  the  elevation  of  the  superciliary  ridges  and  inter- 
vening glabellar  region.  Projecting  brow  ridges  are  asso- 
ciated with  stout  temporal  and  masseter  muscles  and  large 
canines. 

The  facial  region  is  constricted  laterally  and  responds  in 
a  greater  forward  projection,  one  result  being  that  the 
transverse  diameter  of  the  orbits  is  thrust  upward  out- 
wardly, giving  the  horizontal  transverse  diameter  which 
characterizes  the  apes  and  which  is  approximated  in  pre- 
historic man  and  some  contemporary  dolichocephalic 
peoples.  In  young  .anthropoid  apes,  when  chewing  muscles 
are  little  developed  and  there  is  little  constriction  in  the 
lateral  region  posterior  and  inferior  to  the  orbits,  the  trans- 
verse diameter  of  orbits  is  oblique,  as  in  man,  being  elevated 
to  the  horizontal  when  temporal  muscles  develop  and  func- 
tion more  vigorously,  thrusting  in  and  upward  the  outer 
margins  of  the  orbits.  Construction  of  outer  margins  of 
orbits  produces  the  high  orbits  which  we  find  in  apes,  and 
to  a  less  marked  degree,  in  prehistoric  human  remains. 

Elongation  of  the  skull  increases  the  distance  between 
bregma  and  nasion,  producing  a  low  retreating  forehead  and 
a  low  head  height-breadth  index. 

That  muscular  pull  has  this  result  is  suggested  by  the 
laboratory  experiments  of  Arthur  Thomson  conducted  on 
inflated  canvas  bags  the  shape  of  a  skull  with  attachments 
corresponding  to  the  chewing  muscles  and  with  variations 
in  the  pressures  and  pulls  applied.  It  is  further  indicated 
by  the  fact  that  the  Eskimos,  a  people  living  on  raw  food, 
have  almost  all  of  the  "primitive"  characteristics  in  a  more 
pronounced  degree  than  do  other  contemporary  peoples. 
Again,  in  the  Australians,  a  people  whose  cooking  of  ani- 
mals has  attained  little  development— they  cook  the  animals 
whole  over  an  open  fire — there  are  these  "primitive"  fea- 
tures. On  the  other  hand,  similar  food  conditions  do  not  pre- 
vail among  the  negroes,  who  constitute  a  third  group  exem- 
plifying these  "primitive"  traits. 

As  to  other  skeletal  characters,  we  have  no  evidence  lor 


72  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

the  earliest  remains,  excepting  only  the  femur  of  Java  man, 
though  there  is  abundant  material  from  the  much  later, 
though  still  early,  Neanderthal  and  Cro-Magnon  types. 
Here  the  most  notable  differences  have  to  do  with  the 
flexure  of  the  knees  and  the  larger  posterior  diameters  of 
the  lumbar  vertebrae,  both  apelike  characteristics.  A  stoop- 
ing posture  can  be  inferred  from  the  shift  in  plane  of  ar- 
ticular surfaces  at  the  head  and  on  the  lower  surface  of  the 
femur,  the  upper  surface  of  the  tibia,  and  the  articulation 
of  the  tibia  with  the  subjacent  astragalus.  That  these  differ- 
ences exist  is  clear,  but  that  they  have  evolutionary  signifi- 
cance beyond  reflecting  change  in  form  associated  with 
change  in  function  is  not  clear.  They  are  common  in  con- 
temporary peoples  of  the  lower  cultures,  such  as  Africans, 
Australians,  and  others.  The  explanation  of  these  traits  is 
the  absence  of  chairs.  The  position  of  rest  is  that  of  squatting 
on  the  heels,  or  of  sitting  on  the  haunches  with  knees  flexed, 
or  other  similar  pose,  different  from  that  which  Europeans 
assume  when  they  sit.  This  throws  the  articular  surface  of 
the  head  of  the  femur  further  forward,  throws  back  the 
articular  surfaces  of  the  lower  end  of  the  femur  and  the 
upper  end  of  the  tibia,  and  throws  forward  the  articular 
surface  at  the  inferior  end  of  the  tibia  and  gives  rise  to  a 
forward  articular  surface  on  the  subjacent  astragalus.  The 
greater  posterior  diameter  and  lessened  anterior  diameter 
of  the  vertebrae  of  the  lumbar  region  are  a  function  of  the 
more  frequent  and  forcible  bend  forward  of  the  vertebral 
column.  Similar  differences  are  found  in  savage  tribes  whose 
culture  lacks  chairs. 

If  the  above  interpretations  are  correct,  it  follows  that  a 
return  to  the  conditions  of  diet  and  of  life  which  character- 
ized prehistoric  man  would  be  followed  by  a  return  to  his 
physical  type.  Yet  if  there  were  this  transition  to  a  type  more 
simian,  one  could  not  say  we  were  approaching  a  common 
ancestor,  for,  if  we  have  one,  we  would  of  necessity  be 
getting  farther  away,  no  matter  how  similar  the  types  might 
become. 


FOSSIL    AND    PREHISTORIC    MAN  %) 

The  similarity  would  not  be  due  to  the  transmission  of 
qualities  from  a  common  ancestor  of  a  remote  past.  If  this 
be  true,  it  is  equally  true  that  an  increase  in  similarities  as 
we  push  back  the  time  period  does  not  imply  common  an- 
cestry if  the  changes  arc  due  to  changes  in  function,  follow- 
ing changes  in  diet  and  posture.  Since,  in  a  given  group,  the 
male  of  the  human  species  resembles  the  anthropoid  ape  in 
nearly  all  of  these  characteristics  more  than  does  the  female, 
though  of  necessity  both  sexes  must  be  equally  remote  from 
simian-like  ancestry,  it  seems  clear  that  mere  resemblance 
cannot  constitute  an  argument  for  phylogenetic  descent. 
These  sex  differences,  moreover,  are  in  support  of  the  above 
implications,  seeing  that  the  more  muscular  male  has  the 
same  simian  attributes,  though  in  modified  form,  which  are 
characteristic  of  early  man.  If  he  is  more  conservative  of  the 
type — though  this  attribute  usually  is  assigned  to  the  female 
— this  is  because  his  bodily  activity  is  more  nearly  that  of 
prehistoric  man  and  that  of  his  supposedly  near  relations, 
the  anthropoid  apes. 

Though  this  is  not  a  critique  of  the  theory  of  evolution, 
but  merely  of  the  argument  that  change  of  type  shows  com- 
mon ancestry  with  a  zoologically  similar  species,  we  would 
point  out  that  man,  if  descended  from  an  ancestor  common 
to  him  and  the  apes,  should  in  type  more  nearly  approach 
that  remote  ancestor  as  we  go  back  to  earlier  simian  types, 
whereas  commonly  we  are  content  to  insist  that  the  earlier 
human  types  approximate  contemporary  anthropoid  apes. 
It  is  essential  to  the  theory  of  common  ancestry  that  earlier 
simian  types  approach  the  types  of  earlier  human  forms. 

Yet  they  do  not  approach  the  types  of  earlier  human 
forms.  The  resemblances  of  prehistoric  man  hark  forward 
to  modern  apes  rather  than  back  to  prehistoric  anthropoid 
ancestry.  Prehistoric  anthropoid  forms  help  us  as  little  in 
supplying  the  missing  link  as  do  those  prehistoric  human 
forms  on  which  we  have  placed  too  much  reliance,  because 
an  age  with  its  mind  made  up  to  evolution  of  a  unilinear 
type  has  seen  what  it  has  looked  for.  In  unraveling  the  pas* 


74  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN          , 

we  cannot  do  better  than  follow  the  methods  of  the  geolo- 
gist, who  infers  past  changes  from  a  study  of  existing  forces 
and  infers  the  existence  of  no  force  with  which  he  is  unac- 
quainted. In  so  far  as  prehistoric  human  remains  are  con- 
cerned, it  is  not  so  much  evolution  which  has  given  us 
modern  man,  as  man  who  has  given  us  his  type  by  evolving 
it  through  physiological  or  functional  changes  growing  out 
of  changes  in  culture,  an  evolution  which  he  is  still  con- 
tinuing. If  the  cause  lies  within  the  species,  the  changes  do 
not  imply  common  ancestry  with  a  morphologically  and 
anatomically  similar  species,  even  as  they  are  not  an  argu- 
ment against  such  ancestry. 

What,  then,  shall  we  conclude  with  regard  to  the  rela- 
tionship between  men  and  apes?  Briefly  this:  A  review  of 
the  similarities  in  structure,  in  blood,  in  use  of  limbs,  points 
to  the  apes  as  man's  nearest  relations  in  the  animal  kingdom, 
his  first  cousins,  if  he  has  any.  That  some  creature  is  his 
nearest  relation  is  a  conclusion  to  which  we  are  driven  by 
a  consideration  of  animal  life.  As  regards  prehistoric  human 
remains  we  cannot  conclude  that  the  increasing  resemblance 
to  apes  as  we  go  back  in  time  implies  simian  ancestry,  see- 
ing that  these  changes  may  be  due  to  changes  in  food  and 
posture,  representing  the  acquisition  of  form  growing  out 
of  function,  or  closely  correlated  with  function.  In  that  case, 
prehistoric  man's  increasing  resemblance  to  apes  has  other 
explanation  than  descent  from  a  common  ancestor,  being, 
if  our  interpretation  is  correct,  a  case  of  convergence,  the 
response  of  similar  form  to  similar  function. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  change  from  long-headedness  to 
short-headedness  from  earliest  man  to  more  recent  man  of 
the  prehistoric  past,  is  a  change  to  greater  resemblance  with 
the  apes,  Round-headedness  is  a  characteristic  of  apes  much 
more  than  of  modern  man.  Here  the  resemblance  is  due  to 
different  factors:  in  the  case  of  round-headed  man  to  the 
decrease  in  chewing  muscles;  in  the  case  of  the  apes  the 
occiput  is  flattened  to  provide  attachment  for  strong  muscles 
reaching  up  from  the  neck  to  support  the  head.  Man's  up- 


FOSSIL    AND    PREHISTORIC    MAN  75 

right  posture  obviates  the  need  for  such  marked  occipital 
support;  the  ensuing  posterior  projection  of  the  occiput  ac- 
counts largely  for  the  greater  length  of  his  head  in  com' 
parison  with  that  of  the  apes.  But  this  is  only  to  repeat  thai 
mere  resemblances  do  not  count  for  much;  they  must  be 
interpreted  in  the  light  of  the  causes  and  occasions  which 
give  rise  to  them. 

This  is  not  the  place  to  discuss  the  relative  merits  of 
Darwinism,  Weissmannism,  or  Lamarckianism;  but  there 
is  nothing  in  the  above  view  which  would  not  fit  into  any 
one  of  those  schemes.  The  modification  of  form  through 
function  can  proceed  from  generation  to  generation  by  the 
principles  of  Darwinian  selection,  if  that  is  the  doctrine  of 
evolution  to  which  one  is  committed.  It  can  proceed,  of 
course,  with  the  mechanism  represented  by  Weissmann. 
Likewise  it  is  susceptible  of  Lamarckian  interpretation  if 
one  be  a  Lamarckian.  But  in  any  case  we  cannot  afford  to 
close  our  eyes  to  facts,  because  we  may  shy  from  their  im- 
plications. A  good  case  is  not  strengthened  by  adducing  poor 
reasons  in  support  of  it,  and  no  fear  of  giving  comfort  to 
the  enemy  should  lead  us  to  suppose  that  a  partial  conceal- 
ment of  truth,  which  arises  from  a  concealment  of  part  of 
the  truth,  can  compensate  for  the  loss  of  unprejudiced  con- 
sideration of  the  facts  of  life,  whether  they  seem  to  fit  into 
our  schemes  of  evolution  or  fail  to  fit.  Since  the  day  of  Dar- 
win the  evolutionary  idea  has  largely  dominated  the  ambi- 
tions and  determined  the  findings  of  physical  anthropology, 
sometimes  to  the  detriment  of  the  truth.  The  duty  of  the 
anatomist,  however,  is  not  to  plead  a  cause,  but  to  play 
judicial  advocate,  willing  to  hear  and  consider  all  evidence 
bearing  on  the  case. 

The  human  has  been  differentiated  from  the  simian  type 
for  a  much  longer  period  than  we  have  been  accustomed 
to  suppose.  We  are  constantly  lengthening  the  vistas  of  the 
past,  and  it  may  be  that  we  must  extend  them  beyond  our 
present  wont  in  order  to  find  the  point  where  human  and 
simian  forms  have  diverged  into  their  present  types.  Cer- 


76  THEMAKINGOFMAN 

tainly  one  can  no  longer  accept  Java  man  as  common  an- 
cestor, nor  do  any  of  the  Tertiary  remains  of  fossil  apes 
suggest  common  ancestry.  Our  present  evidence  is  insuffi- 
cient. We  must  not  convict  the  prisoner  at  the  bar  simply 
because  we  do  not  know  who  else  committed  the  crime. 
The  issue  is,  Can  we  prove  him  guilty  ?  And  so  with  regard 
to  a  common  ancestor.  "Positive  facts,"  as  Lamarck  finely 
says,  "are  the  only  solid  ground  for  man;  the  deductions 
he  draws  from  them  are  a  very  different  matter.  Outside  the 
facts  of  nature  all  is  a  question  of  probabilities,  and  the  most 
that  can  be  said  is  that  some  conclusions  are  more  probable 
than  others." 

NOTES 

1  G.  Elliot  Smith  suggests,  however,  that  the  time  may  come  when  we 
shall  have  to  classify  it  as  outside  the  human  species. 

-  If  we  take  the  weight  of  the  brain  as  equal  to  i,  the  weight  of  the  body 
•unong  fishes  averages  about  5,688.  Among  reptiles  it  is  about  1,321; 
'imong  bird*  about  212;  for  anthropoids  60  to  100;  and  for  mankind  22 
036. 


THE  TASMANIANS* 

By  W.  ].  SOLLAS 

THE  Tasmanians,  though  recent,  were  at  the  same  time  a 
Palaeolithic  or  even,  it  has  been  rashly  asserted,  an  Eolithic 
race;  and  they  thus  afford  us  an  opportunity  of  interpreting 
the  past  by  the  present — a  saving  procedure  in  a  subject 
where  fantasy  is  only  too  likely  to  play  a  leading  part.  We 
will,  therefore,  first  direct  our  attention  to  the  habits  and 
mode  of  life  of  this  isolated  people,  the  most  unprogressive 
in  the  world,  which  in  the  middle  of  the  nineteenth  century 
was  still  living  in  the  Palaeolithic  epoch. 

As  regards  clothing,  the  Tasmanians  dispensed  with  it. 
They  habitually  went  about  in  a  state  of  nakedness,  except 
in  winter,  when  the  skins  of  kangaroos  were  sometimes 
worn.  To  protect  themselves  from  rain  they  daubed  them- 
selves over  with  a  mixture  of  grease  and  ochre.  Yet  they 
were  not  without  their  refinements;  the  women  adorned 
themselves  with  chaplets  of  flowers  or  bright  berries,  and 
with  fillets  of  wallaby  or  kangaroo  skin,  worn  sometimes 
under  the  knee,  sometimes  around  the  wrist  or  ankle;  the 
men,  especially  when  young,  were  also  careful  of  their  per- 
sonal appearance — a  fully  dressed  young  man  wore  a  neck- 
lace of  spiral  shells  and  a  number  of  kangaroos'  teeth  fastened 
in  his  woolly  hair. 

They  paid  great  attention  to  their  hair;  it  was  cut  a  lock 
at  a  time  with  the  aid  of  two  stones,  one  placed  underneath 
as  a  chopping-block,  the  other  used  as  a  chopper.  A  sort  of 
pomatum  made  of  fat  and  ochre  was  used  as  a  dressing. 
Tattooing  was  not  practiced,  but  a  more  barbarous  kind  of 
decoration,  produced  by  gashing  the  arm  so  as  to  give  rise 
to  cicatrices,  was  not  uncommon. 

*  Ancient  Hunters.  New  York:  The  Macmillan  Company. 

77 


78  THEMAKINGOFMAN 

The  Tasmanians  had  no  houses,  nor  any  fixed  abode;  they 
wandered  perpetually  from  place  to  place  in  search  of  food, 
and  their  only  protection  from  wind  and  weather,  in  a 
climate  sometimes  bitingly  cold,  was  a  rude  screen  made  by 
fixing  up  strips  of  bark  against  wooden  stakes.1 

Their  implements  were  few  and  simple,  made  of  wood  or 
stone;  their  weapons,  whether  for  the  chase  or  war,  were  of 
wood.  Of  these  the  spear  was  the  most  important;  it  was 
fashioned  out  of  the  shoots  of  the  "ti"  tree,  which  are  dis- 
tinguished for  their  straightness.  To  convert  one  of  these 
into  a  spear  was  an  operation  demanding  considerable  skill 
tind  care:  the  stick  was  first  warmed  over  a  fire  to  render  it 
limber,  and  if  not  quite  straight  was  corrected  by  bending 
with  both  hands  while  held  firmly  between  the  teeth.  Thus 
the  human  jaw  was  the  earliest  "arrow-straightener."  The 
end  was  hardened  by  charring  in  the  fire,  and  sharpened  by 
scraping  with  a  notched  flake  of  stone.  With  a  similar  im- 
plement the  bark  was  removed  and  the  surface  rendered 
round  and  smooth.  When  finished  it  was  a  formidable 
weapon;  a  good  spear  balanced  in  the  hand  as  nicely  as  a 
fishing-rod;  it  could  be  hurled  for  a  distance  of  sixty  yards 
with  sufficient  force  to  pass  through  the  body  of  a  man. 
The  aim  of  the  Tasmanian  was  good  up  to  forty  yards.  To 
keep  spears  in  good  condition,  when  not  in  use,  they  were 
tied  up  against  the  trunk  of  a  tree,  selected  for  its  straightness. 

The  only  other  weapon  was  the  club  or  waddy,  about 
two  feet  in  length,  notched  or  roughened  at  one  end  to  give 
a  grip,  and  sometimes  knobbed  at  the  other;  the  shaft  was 
scraped  smooth  in  the  same  manner  as  the  spear.  Its  range 
was  over  forty  yards. 

The  stone  implements,  which  served  a  variety  of  pur- 
poses, were  made  by  striking  off  chips  from  one  flake  with 
another;  in  this  occupation  a  man  would  sit  absorbed  for 
hours  at  a  time.  Flint  is  not  known  in  Tasmania,  and  a  fine- 
grained sandstone  or  "phthanite"  served  as  a  substitute;  it 
is  not  so  tractable  as  flint,  however,  and  this  may  partly  ac- 


FOSSIL    AND    PREHISTORIC    MAN  79 

count  for  the  inferior  finish  of  much  of  the  Tasmanian 
workmanship. 

A  double  interest  attaches  to  the  notched  stone  or  "spoke- 
shave,"  used  for  scraping  the  spear.  The  spear  itself  is  perish- 
able, for  wood  soon  decays,  and  until  quite  recently  no 
wooden  implements  were  known  to  have  survived  the 
Palaeolithic  period;  but  the  stone  spokeshave,  which  implies 
the  spear,  and  in  its  smaller  forms  the  arrow,  may  endure 
for  an  indefinite  time.  Many  excellent  examples  of  such 
implements  are  known  under  the  name  of  hollow  scrapers 
or  "racloirs  en  coches,"  both  from  Palaeolithic  and  Neolithic 
deposits. 

A  large,  rough  tool,  delusively  similar  to  the  head  of  an 
axe,  was  made  by  striking  off  with  a  single  blow  a  thick 
flake  from  a  larger  block  of  stone,  and  dressing  the  side  op- 
posite the  surface  of  fracture  by  several  blows  directed  more 
or  less  parallel  to  its  length.  This  is  not  altogether  unlike  the 
ancient  Palaeolithic  implement  which  the  French  call  a  "coup 
de  poing"  and  the  Germans  a  "Beil"  (axe)  or  "Faust  Keil" 
(fist  wedge).  In  English  it  has  no  name,  though  it  was  at 
one  time  inappropriately  spoken  of  as  a  celt,  a  term  nevei 
used  now  in  this  sense.  Many  anthropologists  are  of  opinion 
that  the  Palaeolithic  "coup  de  poing"  was  not  provided  with 
a  haft,  but  was  held  directly  in  the  hand;  and  that  it  was 
not  used  simply  as  a  "chopper":  some  support  for  this  view 
is  afforded  by  the  fact  that  the  Tasmanians  had  no  notion 
of  hafting2  their  homologue,  Or  rather  analogue,  of  the 
"coup  de  poing,"  and  that  it  served  a  variety  of  purposes, 
among  others  as  an  aid  in  climbing  trees.  It  was  the  women 
who  were  the  great  climbers:  provided  with  a  grass  rope 
which  was  looped  round  the  tree  and  held  firmly  in  the 
left  hand,  they  would  cut  a  notch  with  the  chipped  stone  * 
and  hitch  the  great  toe  into  it;  then  adjusting  the  rope  they 
would  cut  another  notch  as  high,  it  is  said,  as  they  could 
reach;  again  hitch  themselves  up,  and  so  on  till  they  at- 
tained the  requisite  height — sometimes  as  much  as  200  feet. 
In, this  way  they  pursued  the  "opossum"  up  the  smooth 


So  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

trunk  of  the  gum-tree.  Many  stories  are  told  of  their  expert- 
aess :  on  one  occasion  a  party  of  lively  girls  chased  by  sailors 
made  a  sudden  and  mysterious  disappearance;  on  looking 
round  a  number  of  laughing  faces  were  descried  among  the 
branches  of  the  trees,  into  which  the  girls  had  swarmed  in 
the  twinkling  of  an  eye. 

There  is  a  great  inconvenience  in  having  no  special  name 
for  the  "coup  de  poing" — greater  perhaps  than  attaches  to 
the  introduction  of  a  new  word;  I  propose,  therefore,  to 
call  it  a  "boucher,"  thus  honoring  the  memory  of  Boucher 
de  Perthcs,  who  was  the  first  to  compel  the  attention  of  the 
scientific  world  to  these  relics  of  the  past.  This  kind  of 
nomenclature  has  already  been  introduced  by  physicists,  as, 
for  instance,  in  the  terms  volt,  joule,  watt,  and  others.  Its 
great  recommendation  lies  in  its  complete  independence  of 
all  hypothesis.4 

Another  implement  was  an  anvil,  formed  of  a  plate  of 
stone  chipped  all  round  into  a  circle,  about  7  in.  in  diameter, 
1.5  in.  thick  in  the  middle,  and  i  in.  thick  at  the  edge.  On 
this  the  women  broke  the  bones  left  after  a  meal  to  extract 
the  marrow,  using  another  stone  about  6  in.  in  diameter,  as 
.1-  hammer.  M.  Rutot  has  described  several  such  anvils 
(enclumes),  but  of  a  ruder  make,  from  early  Palaeolithic 
deposits. 

One  of  the  commonest  tools  was  the  scraper,  a  flake  of 
about  2  in.  in  diameter,  carefully  dressed  by  chipping  on  one 
side  only  to  a  somewhat  blunt  edge.  The  edge  was  ^ot 
serrated,  and  great  skill  was  required  to  keep  the  line*  of 
flaking  even :  it  was  used  for  flaying  animals  caught  in  the 
chase,  and  as  well,  no  doubt,  for  other  purposes.  To  test  its 
powers  Sir  Edward  Tylor  sent  a  specimen  to  the  slaughter 
house  requesting  the  butcher  to  try  his  skill  in  flaying  with 
it.  The  notion  was  rather  scornfully  received,  but  on  trial 
the  flake  was  found  to  be  admirably  adapted  to  the  task, 
removing  the  skin  without  damaging  it  by  accidental  cuts. 

The  country  seems  to  have  afforded  the  Tasmanians  a 
fair  amount  of  game.  Kangaroos,  wallaby,  opossums,  bandi- 


FOSSIL    AND    P'R*E  HISTORIC     MAN  8l 

coots,  the  kangaroo  rat,  and  the  wombat  were  all  excellent 
eating,  especially  as  cooked  by  the  natives.  The  animals  were 
roasted  whole  in  the  skin  and  cut  up  with  stone  knives;  the 
ashes  of  the  wood  fire  were  sometimes  used  as  a  seasoning 
in  default  of  salt.  Cooking  by  boiling  was  unknown  to  this 
primitive  people,  and  when  introduced  by  us  they  expressed 
their  disapproval  of  it  as  an  inferior  method. 

They  hunted  several  kinds  of  birds,  such  as  the  emu,  now 
extinct  in  Tasmania,  black  swans,  mutton  birds,  and  pen- 
guins. The  eggs  of  birds  were  collected  by  the  women  and 
children.  Snakes  and  lizards  were  put  under  contribution 
as  well  as  grubs  extracted  from  hollow  trees,  and  said  by 
Europeans  to  be  dainty  morsels,  with  a  nutty  flavor 
reminiscent  of  almonds. 

Fish  the  Tasmanians  did  not  eat,  simply  because  they  were 
ignorant  of  the  art  of  fishing,  nets  and  fishhooks  being 
unknown  to  them;  but  cray-fish  and  shell-fish  were  an 
important  article  of  diet.  The  women  obtained  the  shell- 
fish by  diving,  using  a  wooden  chisel,  made  smooth  by 
scraping  with  a  shell,  to  displace  those,  such  as  the  limpets, 
which  live  adherent  to  the  rocks. 

The  shell-fish  were  roasted;  and  the  empty  shells,  thrown 
away  near  the  hearths,  grew  into  enormous  mounds  01 
kitchen  middens,  which  still  afford  interesting  material  to 
the  anthropologist.  Most  of  the  shells  found  in  them  belong 
to  genera  which  are  universally  eaten  by  mankind,  such  as 
oysters,  mussels,  cockles,  limpets,  periwinkles  (Turbo  and 
Purpura),  and  earshells  (Haliotis).  The  periwinkles  were 
broken  by  a  stone  hammer  on  a  stone  anvil,  and  these  imple- 
ments, as  well  as  stone  knives,  are  also  found  in  the  kitchen 
middens. 

Several  kinds  of  plants  furnished  the  natives  with  vege- 
table food — the  young  roots  of  ferns,  roots  of  bulrush,  the 
ripe  fruit  of  the  kangaroo  apple  (Solatium  laciniatum),  a 
fungus  with  a  truffle-like  growth,  and  sea-wrack.  These  were 
cooked  by  broiling. 

Water  was  their  usual  but  not  their  only  drink,  for  they 


$2  THEMAKINGOFMAN 

well  understood  the  virtues  of  fermented  liquor.  A  species 
of  gum-tree  (Eucalyptus  resinifera)  yields  when  tapped  a 
slightly  sweet  juice,  resembling  treacle;  this  they  allowed 
to  collect  in  a  hole  at  the  bottom  of  the  trunk,  where  it 
underwent  a  natural  fermentation  and  furnished  a  kind 
of  coarse  wine. 

Fire  was  obtainec1  either  by  the  simple  plan  of  rubbing 
the  pointed  end  of  a  stick  to  and  fro  in  a  groove  cut  in 
another  piece  of  wood,  or  by  the  drill  method,  i.e.,  by  rotat- 
ing one  stick  in  a  hole  sunk  in  another.  Each  family  kindled 
its  own  fire  at  its  own  hearth,  the  hearths  being  separated 
by  intervals  of  fourteen  to  twenty  yards.5 

The  following  statement  of  Backhouse 6  is  of  interest  in 
connection  with  the  discovery  of  marked  stones  in  some 
European  caves.  He  writes:  "One  day  we  noticed  a  woman 
arranging  stones;  they  were  flat,  oval,  about  two  inches  wide, 
and  marked  in  various  directions  with  black  and  red  lines. 
These  we  learned  represent  absent  friends  ('plenty  long 
way  off'),  and  one  larger  than  the  rest  a  corpulent  woman 
on  Flinders  Island,  known  as  Mother  Brown."  This  descrip- 
tion recalls  the  painted  stones  found  by  E.  Piette 7  in  the 
cave  of  Mas  d'Azil,  Ariege,  on  an  horizon  (Azilian)  which 
marks  the  conclusion  of  the  Palaeolithic  age.  These  also  are 
""flat,  oval  and  about  two  inches  wide,"  and  "they  are 
marked  in  various  directions  with  red  and  black  lines,"  or 
other  bands,  but  on  not  a  few  of  them  more  complex  char- 
acters occur  which  in  a  few  instances  simulate  some  of  the 
capital  letters  of  the  Roman  alphabet-  The  resemblance  is 
indeed  so  startling  that,  on  the  one  hand,  doubts,  certainly 
illfounded,  have  been  expressed  of  their  genuineness,  and 
on  the  other,  theories  have  been  propounded  attributing  to 
them  some  connection  with  the  Phoenician  script.  There  can 
be  no  doubt  as  to  their  genuineness.  M.  Cartailhac8  has 
confirmed  the  original  observations  of  Piette,  and  M.  Boule 
has  found  additional  examples  in  another  locality;  but  their 
meaning  remains  obscure.  M.  Hoerncs  remarks  that  they 
offer  one  of  the  darkest  problems  of  prehistoric  times.  I 


FOSSIL    AND    PREHISTORIC    MAN  83 

am  tempted  to  think  that  some  light  is  thrown  on  this 
problem  by  the  Tasmanian  stones,9  but  here  we  have  to 
lament  one  of  our  many  lost  opportunities;  the  Tasmanians 
have  disappeared,  and  these  stones  with  them;  not  a  single 
specimen,  not  even  a  drawing,  is  preserved  in  any  of  our 
museums. 

It  is  said  that  rude  attempts  were  sometimes  made  to 
represent  natural  objects  by  drawings.  Very  poor  sketches 
of  cattle,  kangaroo,  and  dogs  done  in  charcoal  are  mentioned; 
but  cattle  and  dogs  suggest  the  possibility  of  European  in- 
fluence. The  fact  that  large  pieces  of  bark  have  been  found 
with  rudely  marked  characters  like  the  gashes  the  native* 
cut  in  their  arms  is  of  more  importance.  These  are  not  un< 
like  some  of  the  marks  incised  on  Palaeolithic  implements. 

The  Tasmanians  are  said  to  have  been  unacquainted  with 
boats  or  canoes,  but  they  possessed  a  useful  substitute,  half- 
float,  half-boat,  which  recalls  in  a  striking  manner  the 
"balsa"  of  California  or  the  rafts  made  of  papyrus  or  of  the 
leaf  stalks  of  the  ambatch  tree,  which  are  still  to  be  met 
with  on  the  N;le  and  Lake  Nyanza.  Similar  rafts  are  said 
to  have  been  used  by  some  Melanesian  islanders. 

The  Tasmanian  raft  was  made  of  the  bark  of  more  than 
one  kind  of  tree,  but  usually  it  would  seem  some  species 
of  Eucalyptus.  The  bark  having  been  removed  was  rolled 
up  into  something  like  a  colossal  cigar,  pointed  at  each  end. 
Three  such  rolls  were  required,  a  larger  one  to  form  the 
bottom  and  two  smaller  ones  to  form  the  sides  of  the  raft. 
They  were  firmly  lashed  together,  side  by  side;  a  tough 
coarse  grass  serving  for  cord.  The  completed  raft  was  not 
unlike  in  general  form  a  shallow  boat,  being  broadest  in 
the  middle  and  tapering  away  to  a  pointed  extremity  at  each 
end.  It  was  of  considerable  size,  attaining  sometimes  a  length 
of  between  9  and  10  ft.,  with  a  breadth  of  about  3  ft.,  a 
height  of  I1/*  ft.,  and  a  depth  inside  of  8  to  9  ins.  It  would 
carry  comfortably  three  or  four  persons,  and  at  a  pinch  as 
many  as  five  or  six.  In  shallow  water  it  was  punted  with 
poles,  and  the  same  poles,  devoid  of  any  blade-like  expansion 


84  THEMAKINGOFMAN 

at  the  end,  were  used  as  paddles  on  the  open  sea.  Neverthe- 
less the  Tasmanians  were  able  to  make  their  rafts  travel  at 
a  fair  pace  through  the  water — "as  fast  as  an  ordinary  Eng- 
lish whale-boat";  it  must  have  been  hard  work,  and  they 
seem  to  have  thought  so:  "after  every  stroke  they  uttered  a 
deep  'u^h'  like  a  London  pavior."  A  fire,  carried  on  a  hearth 
of  earth  or  ashes,  was  kept  burning  at  one  end  of  the  raft. 

How  far  the  Tasmanians  ventured  rut  to  sea  in  these 
frail  craft  is  unknown;  they  certainly  visited  Maatsuyker 
island,  "which  lies  three  miles  from  the  mainland  in  the 
stormy  waters  of  llic  South  Sea,"  and  they  were  observed 
to  make  frequent  crossings  to  Maria  Island  ofl  the  east 
coast  during  calm  weather.  The  rafts  have  been  known  to 
live  in  very  rou^h  seas,  and  an  old  whaler  asserted  that  he 
had  seen  one  of  them  go  across  to  Witch  Island,  near  Port 
Davey,  in  the  midst  of  a  storm.  The  natives  on  the  north 
coast  of  Tasmania  are  said  not  to  have  made  use  of  rafts.10 

The  "balsa"  of  the  Scri  Indians  in  Sonora  (California) 
closely  resembles  the  Tasmanian  raft,  differing  mainly  in 
the  substitution  of  bundles  of  rccds  for  rolls  of  bark;  but  it 
attained  a  much  greater  size,  being  sometimes  as  much  as 
30  ft.  in  length.11  With  only  one  passenger  aboard  it  rose 
too  high  out  of  the  water,  "rode  better  with  two,  carried 
three  without  difficulty,  even  in  a  fairly  heavy  sea,  and  would 
safely  bear  four  adults  ...  in  moderate  water."  European 
observers  who  have  seen  this  craft  afloat  have  admired  "its 
graceful  movements  and  its  perfect  adaptation  to  variable 
seas  and  loads,"  curving  "to  fit  the  weight  .  .  .  and  to  meet 
the  impact  of  swells  and  breakers." 

The  Seri  Indians  are  in  the  habit  of  crossing  in  their 
balsas  from  the  mainland  to  the  outlying  island,  and  occa- 
sionally even  complete  the  passage  across  the  gulf  to  the 
opposite  shore  of  Lower  California.12 

The  facts  we  have  thus  briefly  summarized  include  almost 
all  that  I  can  discover  bearirig  directly  on  our  subject.  For 
the  sake  of  completeness  it  may  be  as  well  to  give  some 


FOSSIL    AND    PREHISTORIC    MAN  85 

account  of  the  bodily  characters  of  this  interesting  people, 
and  a  few  words  as  to  their  history. 

The  Tasmanians  were  of  medium  stature,  the  average 
height  of  the  men  being  1,661  mm.,  with  a  range  of  from 
1,584  to  1,732  mm.  the  average  height  of  the  women  was  1,503 
mm.,  with  a  range  of  from  1,295  to  1,630  mm.  The  color 
of  the  skin  was  almost  black,  inclining  to  brown.  The  eyes 
were  small  and  deep-set  beneath  strong  overhanging  brows; 
the  nose  short  and  broad,  with  widely  distended  nostrils;  the 
mouth  big;  and  the  teeth  large,  disproportionately  large 
indeed  for  the  size  of  the  jaw. 

The  hair  was  black  and  grew  in  close  corkscrew  ringlets. 
The  men  had  hair  on  their  faces — whiskers,  mustache,  and 
beard — and  on  the  borders  of  the  whiskers  it  assumed  the 
form  of  tuficd  pellets  like  pepper- corns. 

It  is  a  commonplace  amongst  biologists  that  characters 
of  apparently  the  most  trivial  significance  are  precisely  those 
which  are  of  the  greatest  value  as  a  means  to  classification, 
and  it  is  on  the  degree  of  curliness  or  twist  in  the  hair  that 
the  most  fundamental  subdivision  of  the  human  race  is 
based.  We  thus  recognize  three  groups;  one  in  which  the 
hair  is  without  any  twist — that  is,  perfectly  straight — the 
Lissotrichi;  another  in  which  it  is  twisted  to  an  extreme,  as 
in  the  Nc^ro  or  Bushman — the  Ulotrichi;  and  a  third  in 
which  the  hair  is  only  twisted  enough  to  be  wavy,  as  in  many 
Europeans — the  Cvmotrichi.  The  Tasmanian  is  ulotrichous, 
like  the  Negro  and  most  other  races  with  very  dark  skins. 

The  bony  framework,  being  more  resistant  to  decay  than 
the  rest  of  the  body,  is  more  likely  to  be  preserved  in  the 
fossil  state,  and  has  therefore  a  certain  amount  of  im- 
portance in  our  study.  We  shall  restrict  our  description, 
however,  to  the  skull,  as  more  is  to  be  learnt  from  this  than 
from  any  other  portion  of  the  skeleton. 

The  skull  of  the  Tasmanian  is  of  a  characteristic  form,  so 
that  a  practiced  eye  can  readily  distinguish  it  from  that  of 
other  races.  Looked  upon  directly  from  above  its  outline  is 
oval  or  more  or  less  pentagonal;  its  greatest  breadth  lies. 


86  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

considerably  behind  the  middle  line.  The  crown  rises  into 
a  low  keel,  bordered  by  a  groove-like  depression  on  each 
side;  the  sides  of  the  skull  are  wall-like,  but  swell  out  into 
large  parietal  bosses. 

It  is  long  (dolichocephalic),  and  the  ratio  of  its  breadth 
to  its  length  (cephalic  index)  is  74.9,  as  determined  from 
measurement  of  eighty-six  examples.13  Its  height  is  abouc 
5  mm.  less  than  its  breadth;  the  Tasmanians  may  there- 
fore be  called  flat-headed  (platycephalic).  The  cranial 
capacity  is  the  lowest  yet  met  with  among  recent  races, 
measuring  on  the  average  1,199  c»c*>  or>  m  round  numbers, 
1,200  c.c.;  in  the  men  the  average  rises  to  1,306  c.c.,  in  the 
women  it  falls  to  1,093  c-c«14 

The  face  is  remarkably  short,  and  presents  a  peculiarly 
brutal  appearance;  the  brow-ridges  and  glabella  are  strongly 
marked,  and  there  is  a  deep  notch  at  the  root  of  the  nose. 
The  jaws  project,  but  not  to  the  extreme  degree  which  is 
characteristic  of  the  Negro,  nor  even  so  much  as  in  some 
Australians.  The  lower  jaw  is  small,  disproportionately  so 
when  compared  with  the  teeth,  which,  as  already  observed, 
are  comparatively  large.  In  consequence  of  this  misfit  the 
natives  suffered  grievously  from  abnormalities  of  dentition. 

In  endeavoring  to  discover  the  people  to  whom  the  Tas- 
manians were  most  closely  related,  we  shall  naturally 
restrict  our  inquiries  to  the  Ulotrichi,  for,  as  we  have  seen, 
the  Tasmanians  belonged  to  this  group.  Huxley  thought 
they  showed  some  resemblance  to  the  inhabitants  of  New 
Caledonia  and  the  Andaman  Islands,  but  Flower  was  dis- 
posed to  bring  them  into  closer  connection  with  the  Papuans 
or  Melanesians.  The  leading  anthropologists  in  France  do 
not  accept  either  of  these  views.  Topinard  states  that  there 
is  no  close  alliance  between  the  New  Caledonians  and  the 
Tasmanians,  while  Quatrefagcs  and  Hamy  remark  that 
"from  whatever  point  of  view  we  look  at  it,  the  Tasmanian 
race  presents  special  characters,  so  that  it  is  quite  impossible 
to  discover  any  well-defined  affinities  with  any  other  exist- 


FOSSIL    AND    PREHISTORIC    MAN  87 

ing  race,"  and  this  probably  represents  the  prevailing  opinion 
of  the  present  day.15 

The  Tasmanians  appear  to  have  been  an  autochthonous 
people,  native  to  the  soil,  the  surviving  descendants  of  a 
primitive  race,  elsewhere  extinct  or  merged  into  a  pre- 
ponderant alien  population.  Frequenting  the  coast,  and  yet 
destitute  of  sea-going  craft  capable  of  making  long  voyages 
it  is  scarcely  likely  that  they  reached  Tasmania  from  any 
of  the  remote  Pacific  islands;  and  it  is  far  more  probable, 
as  our  foremost  authorities  now  maintain,  that  they  crossed 
over  from  Australia. 

The  primitive  ancestors  of  the  race  may  have  been  widely 
distributed  over  the  Old  World:  displaced  almost  every- 
where by  superior  races,  they  at  length  became  confined  tc 
Australia  and  Tasmania,  and  from  Australia  they  were 
finally  driven  and  partly  perhaps  absorbed  or  exterminated 
by  the  existing  aborigines  of  that  continent,  who  were  pre- 
vented from  following  them  into  Tasmania,  because  by  that 
time  Bass  Strait  was  wide  enough  to  offer  an  insuperable 
barrier  to  their  advance. 

A  notion  exists  that  the  natives  entered  Australia  and 
Tasmania  by  dry  land,  at  a  time  antecedent  to  the  forma- 
tion of  Torres  Strait  and  Bass  Strait,  but  the  well-known 
distinction  between  the  Australian  and  Oriental  faunas 
present  some  difficulty  to  this  view.  It  would  appear  that 
man  must  have  possessed  some  special  means  by  which  he 
could  enter  Australia  unaccompanied  by  other  animals.  Trr. 
rafts  of  the  Tasmanians  thus  acquire  an  unexpected  im- 
portance; they  were  capable,  as  we  have  seen,  of  making 
voyages  across  channels  at  least  three  miles  in  width.  It  is 
true  that  much  wider  channels  than  this  now  break  up  the 
road  from  New  Guinea  to  Tasmania;  but  there  seems  to 
have  been  a  time,  probably  geologically  recent,  when  these 
channels  did  not  exist  and  the  Australian  cordillera 
stretched  as  a  continuous  mountain  chain  from  the  one  great 
island  to  the  other.  It  was  only  by  repeated  subsidence  thar 
it  became  broken  down,  in  the  region  of  Torres  Strait  on 


88  THEMAKINGOFMAN 

the  north  and  Bass  Strait  on  the  south.  Subsidence  has  also 
probably  enlarged  the  seas  between  the  islands  of  the  East 
Indies.  Thus  at  some  past  epoch  the  channels  which  after- 
wards confined  the  Australians  and  the  Tasmanians  to  their 
respective  lands  may  have  been  sufficiently  narrow  to  have 
been  crossed  by  rafts  and  yet  wide  enough  to  have  barred 
the  way  to  the  rest  of  the  Oriental  fauna. 

When  the  more  civilized  nations  of  the  north  had  suc- 
ceeded in  subjugating  the  sea  to  their  enterprise,  even  the 
ocean  itself  failed  in  its  protection  to  the  unfortunate  Tas- 
manians, and  with  the  arrival  of  English  colonists  their 
doom  was  scaled.  Only  in  rare  instances  can  a  race  of  hunters 
contrive  to  coexist  with  an  agricultural  people.  When  the 
hunting  ground  of  a  tribe  is  restricted,  owing  to  its  partial 
occupation  by  the  new  arrivals,  the  tribe  affected  is  compelled 
to  infringe  on  the  boundaries  of  its  neighbors:  this  is  to 
break  the  most  sacred  "law  of  the  Jungle,"  and  inevitably 
leads  to  war:  the  pressure  on  one  boundary  is  propagated  to 
the  next,  the  ancient  state  of 'equilibrium  is  profoundly  dis- 
turbed, and  intertribal  feuds  become  increasingly  frequent. 
A  bitter  feeling  is  naturally  aroused  against  the  original 
offenders,  the  alien  colonists:  misunderstandings  of  all  kinds 
inevitably  arise,  leading  too  often  to  bloodshed,  and  ending 
in  a  general  conflict  between  natives  and  colonists,  in  which 
the  former,  already  weakened  by  disagreements  among 
<hemselves,  must  soon  succumb.  So  it  was  in  Tasmania. 

The  estimates  which  have  been  given  of  the  number  of 
the  population  at  the  time  Europeans  first  became  ac- 
quainted with  the  country  differ  widely:  the  highest  is  20,000, 
but  this  is  probably  far  in  excess  of  the  truth.  After  the  war 
of  1825  to  1 831  there  remained  scarcely  200.  These  wretched 
survivors  were  gathered  together  into  a  settlement,  and  from 
1834  onwards  every  effort  was  made  for  their  welfare  but 
"the  white  man's  civilization  proved  scarcely  less  fatal  than 
<he  white  man's  bullet,"  and  in  1877,  with  the  death  of 
Truganini,  the  last  survivor,  the  race  became  extinct. 

It  is  a  sad  story,  and  we  can  only  hope  that  the  replacement 


FOSSIL    AND    PREHISTORIC    MAN  8l» 

of  a  people  with  a  cranial  capacity  of  only  about  1,200  c.c. 
by  one  with  a  capacity  nearly  one-third  greater  may  prove 
ultimately  of  advantage  in  the  evolution  of  mankind. 

The  world  certainly  needs  all  the  brains  it  can  get:  at  the 
same  time  it  is  not  very  flattering  to  our  own  power  of  in- 
telligence to  find  that  we  allowed  this  supremely  interesting 
people,  the  last  representatives  of  one  of  the  earliest  stages 
of  human  culture,  to  perish,  without  having  made  any 
serious  elTort  to  ascertain  all  that  could  be  known  about  it, 
What  we  do  know  is  very  little  indeed:  a  book  of  about 
three  hundred  pages  contains  almost  every  scrap  of  trust 
worthy  information.10 

If  any  other  nation  than  our  own  had  shown  the  same 
disregard  for  a  human  document  of  such  priceless  value,  we 
should  be  very  outspoken  in  our  censure.  Even  now,  in  this 
twentieth  century,  it  cannot  be  said  that  the  British  Govern- 
ment takes  such  an  intelligent  interest  in  the  numerous' 
primitive  peoples  which  it  has  taken  into  its  charge  as  we 
have  a  right  to  expect,  at  least  from  a  state  having  any 
regard  for  the  advancement  of  learning. 

The  first  to  call  attention  to  the  resemblance  between  the 
stone  implements  of  the  Tasmanians  and  those  of  Palaeo- 
lithic man  was  Sir  Edward  Tylor.17  Subsequently  Mr.  R.  M. 
Johnston18  compared  them  with  the  "eoliths"  figured  b) 
Ribiero  already  alluded  to.  Sir  Edward  Tylor19  has  re- 
peatedly returned  to  the  subject;  and  in  1905  when  he  ex- 
hibited specimens  before  the  Archaeological  Institute,  he 
made  the  following  statement:  "I  am  now  able  to  select  qind 
exhibit  to  the  Institute  from  among  the  flint  implements 
and  flakes  from  the  cave  of  Le  Moustier,  in  Dordo^nc,  speci- 
mens corresponding  in  make  with  such  curious  exactness 
to  those  of  the  Tasmanian  natives,  that  were  it  not  for  the 
different  stone  they  are  chipped  from,  it  would  be  hardly 
possible  to  distinguish  them."  20 

Subsequently  Sir  Edward  Tylor  was  led  to  believe  that 
an  even  closer  resemblance  could  be  traced  between  the  $o* 
called  plateau  implements  and  the  Tasmanian.  A  similai 


90  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

view  has  also  commended  itself  to  M.  Rutot  and  Dr.  H. 
Klaatsch.21  If  this  could  be  established  it  would  invest  the 
Tasmanian  implements  with  peculiar  interest. 

The  plateau  "implements"  are  so  called  because  they  are 
found  in  gravels  capping  the  high  plateaux  of  Kent  and 
elsewhere.  They  were  first  discovered  by  Mr.  B.  Harrison, 
of  Ightham,  who  Lrought  them  before  the  notice  of  Sir 
Joseph  Prestwich;  and  this  observer,  famous  for  the  caution 
and  sagacity  of  his  judgment,  expressed  in  unqualified  terms 
his  conviction  that  they  showed  signs  of  the  handiwork  of 
man.22  Sir  John  Evans,  a  fellow-worker  with  Prestwich,  and 
equally  distinguished  for  his  acumen,  and  insight,  was  un- 
able, however,  to  share  this  opinion,  and  the  question  is  still 
involved  in  controversy. 

The  plateau  gravels  are  no  doubt  very  ancient.  Prestwich 
spoke  of  them  as  glacial  or  pre-glacial;  M.  Rutot  assigns 
them  to  the  Pliocene. 

The  problem  presented  by  the  supposed  implements  is  no 
doubt  a  difficult  one.  Some  of  the  Tasmanian  forms  are  so 
rude  and  uncouth  that,  taken  alone,  we  might  have  little 
reason  to  suspect  that  they  had  been  chipped  by  man;  a 
great  number,  on  the  other  hand,  show  signs  of  very  skillful 
working,  and  leave  us  in  no  doubt.  It  is  on  these  last  that 
our  judgment  should  be  based  in  a  study  of  the  Tasmanian 
art.  As  to  the  rest,  "noscitur  a  sociis."  They  are  distinguished 
by  two  very  definite  characters.  In  the  first  place  their  funda- 
mental form  is  that  of  a  flake  which  has  been  split  off  from 
a  larger  fragment.  They  never  commence  their  existence 
as  fragments  already  existing  in  a  natural  state.  And  next, 
the  finer  dressing  of  the  stone  is  always  confined  to  one  face; 
if  a  boucher,  there  is  one  face  obtained  by  a  single  blow 
which  detached  it  from  the  parent  mass,  and  an  opposite 
face  with  secondary  flaking;  if  a  scraper,  the  marginal  dress- 
ing is  produced  by  the  removal  of  chips  always  struck  off  in 
the  same  direction,  and  in  a  manner  not  greatly  differing 
from  that  of  characteristic  Moustcrian  scrapers. 

If  we  judge  the  Tasmanian  implements  by  the  best 


FOSSIL    AND    PREHISTORIC    MAN  <)I 

examples,  we  should  in  fairness  extend  the  same  treatment 
to  the  plateau  "implements."  Some  of  the  best  of  these  show 
some  superficial  resemblance  to  the  Tasmanian,  but  only 
in  general  form:  this  is  particularly  true  of  the  hollow 
scrapers.  In  connection  with  these  we  may  cite  the  following 
statement  made  by  Prestwich  when  speaking  of  the  plateau 
implements.  He  says:  "A  very  common  form  is  a  scraper 
in  the  shape  of  a  crook,  sometimes  single,  sometimes 
double,  such  as  might  have  been  used  for  scraping  round 
surfaces  life  bones  or  sticks."  The  part  we  have  pkced  in 
italics  shows  remarkable  insight,  but  unfortunately  these 
supposed  scrapers  will  not  scrape  and,  if  artefacts,  had  pre- 
sumably some  other  function. 

Again,  the  comparison  is  scarcely  sustained  when  we 
enter  into  a  minute  investigation.  To  begin  with,  the  funda- 
mental form  of  the  plateau  "implement"  is  rjrely — so  far 
as  I  know,  never — artificial.  On  the  hypothesis  that  these 
fragments  were  used  by  man,  we  must  suppose  that,  to 
begin  with,  he  simply  selected  such  bits  of  flints,  lying 
scattered  about,  as  he  thought  would  serve  his  ends,  and 
then  merely  improved  their  existing  edges  by  additional 
chipping.  This  supposed  chipping,  though  often  confined 
to  one  side  of  the  fragment,  has  not  the  closeness  or  regu- 
larity that  distinguishes  Tasmanian  scrapers.  The  confused 
and  clumsy  chipping  of  the  plateau  "hollow-scraper"  does 
not  produce  an  efficient  edge,  and  it  seems  hard  to  believe 
that  a  being  with  sufficient  intelligence  to  conceive  the  idea 
of  a  spokeshave  should  not  have  succeeded  in  making  a 
better  one.23 

Mr.  Henry  Balfour,  one  of  the  first  to  study  Tasmanian 
implements  and  to  recognize  their  Palaeolithic  affinities,  re- 
gards them  as  representing  a  separate  industry.  While  agree- 
ing with  Mr.  Balfour  on  the  existence  of  special  features 
characteristic  of  the  Tasmanian  implements — possibly  due 
to  the  peculiar  character  of  the  stone24  from  which  they 
were  made — I  am  still  inclined  to  think  that  Sir  Edward 
Tylor  made  a  closer  approach  to  the  truth  in  his  earlier  than 


92  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

in  his  later  comparisons.  Some  resemblance  to  Mousterian 
implements  may  indeed  be  recognized,  but  scarcely  any  to 
the  problematical  flints  of  the  Kent  plateau.  This  is  also 
the  opinion  of  Professor  Paul  Sarasin  25  and  of  the  Abbe 
Breuil,  who  considers  that  the  Tasrnanian  implements  find 
their  closest  alliance  with  the  quartzite  implements  of 
Mousterian  age  which  occur  in  the  north  of  Spain. 

The  Tasmanians  may  therefore  be  regarded  with  great 
probability  as  representing  an  ancient  race,  which,  cut  of? 
from  free  communication  with  the  surrounding  world,  had 
preserved  almost  unchanged  the  habits  and  industrial  arts 
which  existed  in  Europe  during  the  later  days  of  the  Lower 
Mousterian  age. 

Though  in  its  bodily  characters  this  race  differed  consider- 
ably from  the  Mousterian  Europeans — they  are  of  different 
species — yet  it  retained  so  much  that  is  primitive  and  was 
at  the  same  time  so  pure  or  homogeneous  that  we  may 
fairly  include  it  among  those  interesting  relics  known  to 
biologists  as  surviving  archaic  types.  Our  knowledge  of  the 
Tasmanians  is  but  small,  yet  the  little  we  possess  is  of 
fundamental  importance,  providing  analogies  for  our 
guidance  in  the  study  of  Palaeolithic  man. 

NOTES 

1  There  is  reason  to  suppose  that  they  sometimes  made  use  of  cave 
shelters.  See  H.  Ling  Roth,  "Cave  Shelters  and  the  Aborigines  of  Tas- 
mania," Nature,  1899,  Ix,  p.  545.  Backhouse  states  that  on  the  west  coast 
they  made  huts  for  their  winter  quarters.  The  construction  of  these  was 
simple  and  ingenious.  A  circular  space  was  cleared  in  a  thicket  of  young 
and  slender  Ti  trees   and   the  tops   of  the   encircling  bushes    (?    trees) 
were  drawn  together  and  thatched  with  leaves  and  grass   (James  Back- 
house, Narrative  of  a  Visit  to  the  Australian  Colonies,  1843,  p.  104). 

2  R.  M.  Johnston   (Systematic  Account  of  the  Geology  of  Tasmania, 
1888,  p.  334)  asserts  that  a  heavy  stone  used  as  a  tomahawk  was  provided 
with  a  handle:  "being   fastened   to  it  in  the  same  way  as  a  blacksmith 
fastens  a  rod  to  a  chisel,  and  afterwards  well  secured  by  the  sinews  of 
some  animal."  This  is  denied  by  those  best  acquainted  with  the  Tasmanians. 

8  Sir  Edward  Tylor  describes  this  as  a  quoit-like  stone,  4  to  6  in. 
across,  and  chipped  about  two-thirds  round  the  edge  (Journ.  Anthr.  lnst.t 
1893,  xxiii,  p.  142). 

4  The  name  "hand-axe,"  which  has  been  suggested,  is  a  question -begging 
term,  involving  two  assumptions,  each  of  which  is  open  to  discussion, 


FOSSIL  AND  PREHISTORIC  MAN  93 

Boucher  de  Perthcs  thought  that  some  were  hafted  and  some  not  (B.  dc 
Perthcs,  Antiqmtes  cettiqnes  et  antediluviennes,  ii,  1857,  P«  I7I5  in»  1864, 
p.  74).  G.  de  Mortillct  (Le  Prehistonque,  1885,  P«  *42)»  that  none  were 
hafted,  and  D'Acy  (Bull.  Soc.  d'Anthr.,  1887),  that  all  were  hafted.  There 
is  much  to  be  said  for  D'Acy 's  view,  and  respect  for  the  opinion  of  those 
that  agree  with  him  leads  me  to  think  that  an  indifferent  name  has  its 
advantages.  M.  Comment  docs  not  admit  that  these  implements,  "dcnomme 
improprtmcnt  coup  dc  poing,"  were  axes  at  all,  whether  hafted  or  not. 

5  That  the  Tasmamans  were  acquainted  with  the  fire-drill  is  open  to 
doubt. — H.  Ling  Roth,  "Tasmanian  Firesticks,"  'Nature,  1899,  ^x»  P»  696, 
and  "The  Aborigines  of  Tasmania,  Halifax,  1899. 

0  James  Backhouse,  op.  at.,  p.   104. 

7  E.  Pictte,   "Lcs  Galcts  colorics  du  Mas  d'Azil,"  L'Anthr.,   1895,  vi, 
p.  276,  and  1897,  vii,  p.  385. 

8  E.  Cartailhac,  L'Anthr.,  1891,  ii,  p.  147. 

0  "Paleolithic  Races,"  Science  Progress,  1909,  p.  504.  M.  Salomon  Rci- 

nach  has  since  made  a  similar  suggestion,  L'Anthr.,  1909,  xx,  p.  605.  Mi. 

A.  B.   Cook    has  compared   the  painted   pebbles  of  Mas   d'Azil    with   the 

Australian  "enuring.!,"  //  Infhr.,  1905,  xiv,  p.  655,  and  Prof.  F.  Sarasin  has 

expressed   his   approval    of  this   view,   "Dos   Galcls   colorics   de   la   Grotte 

dc  Birscck  prcs  Bale,"  C.  R.  de  la  XI Ve  Session,  Congies  International 

d'Anthropologic,  Geneva,   1912,  p.  569.  The  Tasmaman  stones  may  also 

have  been  "churinga,"  but  this  is  very  doubtful  and  difficult  to  reconcile 

with  the  fact  that  in  Australia  such  ohiccts  are  "taboo"  to  the  women. 

-"II.  Ling  Roth,  The  Abongines  of  Tasmania,  Halifax,  England,  1899. 

11  A  similar  craft,  but  provided  with  sails,  is  used  in  Pciu.  Mr.  II.  Bal- 

four  informs  me  that  balsas  are  used  all  along  the  West  Coast  of  America. 

12W.  J.  McGce,  The  Sen  Indians,  pp.  215-221. 

13  R.  J.  A.  Berry,  A.  W.  D.  Robertson,  and  K.  S.  Cross,  "A  Biomctrical 
Study  of  the  Tasmaman,  Australian  and  Papuan,"  P)oc.  Roy.  Soc.  Edin., 
1910,  xxxi,  pp.  ^0-3 1.  The  mean  length  obtained  is  180.30  dt  0.51,  and 
the  mean  breadth  I3S-M  —  <M5  mm. 

1  *  In  computing  thoe  numbers  I  made  use  of  all  the  observations 
accessible  up  to  1910.  Sir  W.  Turner  obtains  a  mean  capacity  of  between 
1,200  and  1,300  c.c.  for  Tasmaman  men.  "The  Aborigines  of  Tasmania," 
pt.  2,  Trans.  Roy.  Soc.  Edin.,  1910,  xhii,  p.  451 

15  Sir  W.  Turner,  "The  Aborigines  of  Tasmania,"  Trans.  Poy.  Soc. 
Edin.,  1908,  xlvi,  pt.  2,  p.  365,  in  particular  pp.  385-394;  1910,  xl'-u,  pt. 
3,  p.  411.  Sec  also  R.  J.  A.  Bciry,  A.  W.  D.  Robertson,  and  K.  S.  Cross, 
"A  Biomctrical  Study  of  the  Relative  Degree  of  Purity  of  Race  of  the 
Tasmanian,  Australian  and  Papuan,"  Proc.  Roy.  Soc.  Edin.,  1910,  xxxi, 
pp.  17-40.  R.  J.  A.  Kerry  and  A.  W.  D.  Robertson,  "The  Place  in  Nature 
of  the  Tasmanian  Aborigine,"  pp.  41-69;  and  H.  Basedow,  "Dcr  Tas- 
manirr  Schadcl  cin  Inmlartypus,"  Zcits.  f.  Ethn.,  1910,  xhi,  pp.  175-227. 
/\  different  view  is  held  by  H.  von  Luschan,  "Zur  Stcllung  der  Tasmanier, 
ein  anthropologic  die  System,"  Zeits.  f.  Ethn.,  1910,  xlu,  p.  287. 

10  1 1.  Ling  Roth,  The  Aborigines  of  Tasmania,  Halifax,  England,  1899. 
1TE.  B.  Tvlor,  The  Early  History  of  Mankind,  London,  1865,  p.  195. 

18  R.  M.  Johnston,  Systematic  Account  of  the  Geology  of  Tasmania,  1888, 

P.  334- 

19  E.  B.  Tylor,  in  Preface  to  H.  Ling  Roth,  The  Aborigines  of  Tasmania, 


94  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

ist  cd.,  1890;  2nd  cd.,  1899.  "On  the  Tasmanians  as  Representatives  of 
Palaeolithic  Man,"  Journ.  Anthr.  Inst.,  1893,  xxiii,  pp.  141-152,  2  pis.  "On 
the  Survival  of  Palaeolithic  Conditions  in  Australia  and  Tasmania,"  Journ. 
Anthr.  Inst.,  1898,  xxviii,  p.  199.  "On  Stone  Implements  from  Tasmania," 
Journ.  Anthr.  Inst.,  1900,  xxx,  p.  257. 

20/o«r».  Anthr.  Inst.,  1895,  xxiv,  p.  336. 

21  A.  Rutot,  "La  Fin  de  la  Question  des  Eolithes,"  Bull.  Soc.  GeoL  Bflg., 
1907,  xxi,  p.  21 1 ;  H.  Klaatsch,  Zeits.  f.  Ethn.,  1907. 

22  J.  Prestwich,  Quart.  Jottrn.  Geol.  Soc.,  1889,  xlv,  pp.  270-294,  pis.; 
1890,  xlvi,  p.  1 66;  1891,  xlvii,  pp.  126-160,  pis.;  Journ.  Anthr.  Inst.,  1889, 
xxi,  pp.  246-270,  pi.;  sec  also  W.  J.  Lewis  Abbott,  Nat.  Sci.,  1894,  iv, 
pp.  256-266,  and  T.  Rupert  Jones,  Nat.  Set.,  1894,  v,  pp.  269-275. 

28  Through  the  kindness  of  Mr.  Harrison  I  have  now  examined  a  large 
number  of  his  best  specimens:  several  of  them  have  a  remarkably  artificial 
look  and  may  possibly  have  been  shaped  by  man. 

24  It  has  a  marked  tendency  to  split  in  one  direction. 

25  P.  Sarasin,  Vh.  d.  Nf.  Gts.  Basel,  Bd.  xxiii,  and  Zeits.  /.  Ethn.,  Bd. 
<1,  1908,  p.  248. 


THE  ART  OF  THE  REINDEER  EPOCH* 

By  JOSEPH  DECHELETTE 

§  I.  HISTORY  OF  THE  DISCOVERIES. 

MOVABLE  objects  carved  of  stone,  ivory,  bone,  and  horn 
by  Magdalenian  artists  had  been  known  for  a  number  of 
years  when  unexpected  discoveries  brought  to  light  new 
revelations  concerning  the  art  of  the  primitive  reindeer 
hunters.  In  some  of  the  deep  caves  at  the  entrance  of  which 
these  primitive  men  had  installed  their  hearths,  there  were 
discovered  drawings,  often  very  numerous,  of  animals  and 
several  faces  carved  or  painted  upon  walls  and  ceilings.  The 
question  arose  at  once  as  to  whether  these  unusual  designs 
were  contemporary  to  the  quaternary  inhabitants  of  the 
caves.  A  Spaniard,  Don  Marcelino  de  Sautuola,  the  first  to 
call  the  attention  of  investigators  to  these  discoveries,  did 
not  hesitate  to  affirm  this  hypothesis,  without,  however, 
succeeding  in  dissipating  the  doubts  which  the  novelty  and 
strangeness  of  his  discoveries  had  rightly  evoked.  In  1880, 
he  published  a  summary  description  of  the  paintings  of 
animals  which  he  had  recognized  the  year  before  on  the 
ceiling  of  the  cave  of  Altamira  (township  of  Santillana  del 
Mar,  province  of  Santander).  An  engineer,  M.  Edouard 
Harle,  however,  after  studying  these  paintings,  denied  their 
antiquity.  Later,  even  though  Vilanova  Y  Piera,  professor 
of  paleontology  in  Madrid,  took  the  same  position  as  did 
his  compatriot,  and  maintained  firmly  that  these  paintings 
were  contemporary  to  the  fireplaces  of  the  later  quarter- 
nary  age,  numerous  circumstances  seemed  to  favor  the  in- 
credulity of  the  others.  How  could  one  explain  the  remark- 

*  Chapter  x  of  part  i  of  volume  i  of  Manuel  d'arc heologie  Prthistoriquc, 
Ccltique  et  Gallo-romatnc.  Published  by  Libraire  Alphonse  Picard  ct  Fife. 
Paris.  The  material  here  reproduced  was  translated  by  Frida  Ilmcr. 

osi 


96  THEMAKINGOFMAN 

ably  fine  state  of  preservation  of  these  frescoes,  supposed  to 
be  many  thousands  of  years  old,  if  the  walls  were  con- 
stantly moist  and  in  places  even  covered  by  stalagmitic  for- 
mations? Besides,  what  could  be  the  meaning  of  these 
animal  figures  occupying  completely  obscure  points  of  the 
cave  that  were,  moreover,  difficult  of  access?  Objections 
were  also  raised  against  the  complete  absence  of  any  trace 
of  smoke  on  the  walls.  This  circumstance  seemed  to  exclude 
the  hypothesis  of  a  prolonged  habitat  in  these  dark  sub- 
terranean passages.  Nonetheless,  certain  of  the  facts  which 
M.  Harle  himself  had  observed  were  irreconcilable  with 
the  supposition  that  these  designs  had  been  faked  and  also 
made  it  difficult  to  attribute  a  recent  date  to  them.  Several 
figures  were  covered  by  a  stalagmitic  layer.  Furthermore, 
the  entrance  to  the  grotto  had  remained  obstructed  and  un- 
known until  1868.  It  was  therefore  impossible  to  consider 
all  of  these  designs  as  recent  works,  without  encountering 
serious  difficulties. 

Nevertheless,  MM.  de  Sautuola  and  Vilanova  did  not 
succeed  in  dissipating  the  doubts,  and  the  discoveries  at 
Altamira  fell  into  oblivion  until,  in  1895,  M.  Emile  Riviere, 
the  successful  explorer  of  the  grottoes  of  Mentonc,  in  his 
turn,  came  across  designs  engraved  upon  the  walls  of  the 
grotto  de  la  Mouthe,  in  the  commune  of  Tayac  (Dordogne). 
Prior  to  M.  Riviere's  excavations  paleolithic  and  neolithic 
deposits  had  completely  obstructed  the  entrance  to  this  cave. 
A  bit  of  clay  of  unknown  date  revealed  certain  lines  of 
the  lower  part  of  designs,  whose  authenticity  was  by  no 
means  incontestable.  In  the  grotto  of  Pair-non-Pair,  town- 
ship of  Marcamps  (Gironde),  M.  Daleau  had  begun  excava- 
tions in  1883.  In  1897,  stimulated  by  the  discoveries  of  La 
Mouthe,  he  published  the  valuable  wall  paintings  of  that 
grotto,  which  he  had  known  for  several  years  previous. 
There  the  designs  were  completely  uncovered.  The  last 
doubts  were  thus  dissipated  and,  since  then,  the  attention 
of  archeologists  has  been  focussed  upon  the  walls  of  the 
caves.  They  ceased  denying  the  authenticity  and  importance 


FOSSIL     AND    PREHISTORIC    MAN  9? 

of  the  discoveries  of  Sautuola.  Finally  the  engravings  of  the 
grotto  of  Charbot,  at  Aigueze  (Card)  announced  by  M. 
Chiron,  instructor  since  1889,  could  be  classed  as  belonging 
to  the  quaternary  and  not  to  a  later,  and  relatively  recent 
period,  as  had  at  first  been  supposed. 

§  IV.  ROCK  ENGRAVINGS  AND  PAINTINGS  OF  AUSTRALIA  AND 
CALIFORNIA,  AND  INSCRIBED  STONES  OF  NORTH  AFRICA. 

Building  upon  erroneous  information,  investigators  gen- 
erally held  modern  primitives  to  be  incapable  of  producing 
any  works  of  painting  and  sculpture  other  than  timid  and 
malformed  essays.  The  earliest  accounts  of  travelers  who 
described  the  designs  found  on  rocks  in  Australia  met  with 
the  same  incredulous  audience  which  later  rejected  M.  de 
Sautuola's  reports  concerning  the  paintings  in  the  caves  oi 
Altamira.  About  1840,  George  Grey  had  discovered  in  the 
northwest  of  the  Australian  continent  several  caves  adorned 
with  colored  designs.1  It  was  contested  at  first  whether  these 
finds  really  represented  the  work  of  natives.  But  the  obser- 
vations multiplied  and  it  appeared  that  the  designs  on 
rocks,  sculptured  bas-reliefs,  and  paintings  were,  to  the  con- 
trary, very  frequently  to  be  met  with  in  the  North  of  Aus- 
tralia. Stokes  has  published  some  reproductions  of  them.2 
Since  then,  scientists  have  been  busy  classifying  and  inter- 
preting these  interesting  data  which,  as  we  shall  see,  bear  an 
interesting  relationship  to  primitive  totem  cults.  It  was  by 
a  fortunate  coincidence  that,  at  the  precise  moment  when 
sociology  turned  its  attention  to  the  written  documents  of 
these  uncivilized  regions,  prehistoric  archeology  rediscov- 
ered the  ornamented  grottoes  of  Perigourdia  and  the 
Pyrenees.  The  comparative  study  of  these  two  groups  of 
documents  throws  their  close  analogy  into  strong  relief. 
From  time  to  time  there  were  discovered  new  and  strange 
images  of  hands,  reproduced  in  series  upon  the  walls  of  caves 
or  (in  one  part  of  Australia)  upon  huge  rocks.  They  not  only 
bore  a  great  resemblance  to  each  other,  but  also  appeared 
to  be  executed  by  the  same  processes.  Occasionally  a  realistic 


98  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

art  was  found,  often  advanced  enough  to  reproduce  faith- 
fully both  form  and  movement,  and  bringing  preferably 
drawings  of  animals — although  with  modern  savages  scenes 
of  hunting  and  of  combat  with  human  beings  or  of  human 
beings  either  alone  or  in  company  of  animals  are  by  no 
means  absent.  In  the  Clacks  (northwest  coast  of  Australia) 
there  is  a  rock  bearing  upon  a  background  of  red  ochre  more 
than  150  figures  painted  in  white:  sharks,  turtles,  sea  stars, 
clubs,  canoes,  kangaroos,  dogs,  etc.  On  the  island  of  Cape 
York,  among  numerous  paintings  applied  upon  a  back- 
ground of  red  ochre,  there  was  found  upon  the  wall  of  a 
rock,  the  image  of  a  man  covered  with  yellow  patches  that 
were  reminiscent  of  the  spotted  animals  found  at  Mar- 
soulas  and  Altamira.3  Among  the  most  curious  paintings 
of  Australia  are  those  published  by  M.  Mathews.  They 
represent  hands,  tools,  human  beings,  and  animals  painted 
in  different  colors  upon  rocks  forming  a  natural  shelter. 
Thus  an  excavation  at  the  township  of  Coolcalwin  in  Philip 
County,  yielded  64  hands  painted  in  red,  clearly  visible, 
as  well  as  more  or  less  distinct  traces  of  a  number  of  others. 
One  large  rock  of  sandstone  alone,  found  in  the  township 
of  Coonbaralbe  in  Hunter  County,  bears  38  drawings  of 
hands  executed  in  white,  red,  or  yellow.4  As  was  the  case 
with  certain  designs  of  the  quaternary  period,  the  arms  of 
these  drawings  are  always  depicted  to  the  elbows.  Other 
English  travelers  discovered  in  the  island  of  Chasm  (Gulf 
of  Carpentaria)  a  grotto  ornamented  with  designs  painted 
in  red  and  black  and  representing  kangaroos,  turtles,  one 
hand,  a  kangaroo  followed  by  32  men,  one  of  whom  is 
holding  a  kind  of  sword.5 

The  rock  engravings  of  lower  California,  as  well  as  those 
of  the  Australian  continent,  point  to  the  same  conclusions. 
One  of  their  discoverers,  M.  Leon  Diguet,  found  drawings 
of  hands,  of  suns,  of  various  symbols,  of  animals,  etc., 
painted  in  red  upon  large  bowlders.  Drawings  of  human 
figures  pierced  by  spears,  which  were  found  in  the  grotto 
of  San  Borgita,  are  reminiscent  of  the  buffaloes  pierced  by 


FOSSIL    AND    PREHISTORIC    MAN  <ft 

harpoons,  found  in  the  cave  of  Niaux,  A  profound  study 
of  these  relics  would,  no  doubt,  enable  us  to  note  other 
points  of  comparison.  However,  attention  must  be  called 
to  the  fact  that  the  paintings  in  the  Californian  grottoes 
generally  occupy  an  open  place  near  the  entrance  to  the 
cave.6 

Various  explorers  have  discovered  petroglyphs,  both  en- 
graved and  painted,  in  other  sections  of  North  America,7 
employing  similar  motifs.  And  these  examples  can  easily 
be  multiplied. 

Similarly,  stone  engravings,  some  of  which  resemble  out 
wall  paintings,  have  been  discovered  in  Northern  Africa, 
particularly  in  South  Orange.  Their  discovery  dates  back  as 
far  as  1847,*  but  they  owe  the  publicity  which  they  received 
chiefly  to  Flammand.9  These  objects,  designated  as  "In- 
scribed  Stones,"  Hadjrat  mefyoubat,  by  the  Arabs,  appeal 
to  differ  from  each  other  at  various  periods.  M.  Flammand 
distinguishes  between  prehistoric  and  Libyco-Berberian 
stone  engravings.  The  former,  which  are  carved  more 
deeply,  chiefly  represent  the  elephant,  the  rhinoceros,  and 
the  big-horned  buffalo  (bubalus  antiquus),  in  other  words, 
animals  that  are  to-day  extinct  in  the  Sahara.  Upon  Libyco- 
Berberian  stone  carvings,  which  are  executed  by  means  of 
simple  pointillage,  there  appear  alphabetic  inscriptions  and 
animals  still  to  be  found  in  those  regions.  .  .  .  Although  the 
date  at  which  the  bnbalus  antiquus  disappeared  is  uncertain, 
his  fossil  remains  have  been  found  in  the  upper  deposits  of 
the  recent  quaternary  on  the  high  plateaux  of  Algiers.10  At 
Keragda  (district  of  Geryville)  a  human  figure,  holding  a 
neolithic  hatchet  with  a  handle,  was  found.  This  figure  is 
placed  among  these  rock  designs  where,  among  other 
things,  polished  hatchets,  arrows,  javelins,  and  shields11 
were  found. 

§   V.  TOTEMISM  AND  MAGIC. 

The  resemblance  which  exists  between  the  wall  paintings 
of  Australia  and  of  North  America  and  those  of  Gaul  of 


ZOO  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

the  quaternary  period  is  one  of  the  most  striking  illustra- 
tions of  the  lessons  which  prehistoric  archeology  may  draw 
from  a  judicious  study  of  ethnography.  Since  modern  so- 
ciology has  shed  light  upon  the  origin  and  true  character 
of  the  first  artistic  attempts  of  primitives,  we  can  now  recog- 
nize without  difficulty  that  all  of  these  drawings  may  be 
explained  in  one  and  the  same  manner,  that  is,  as  belong- 
ing to  a  group  of  primitive  beliefs,  known  to  scientists  as 
"totemism." 

The  word,  totem,  signifying  "sign,"  "marking,"  "family," 
was  borrowed  from  the  North  American  Indians.  The  con- 
cepts, however,  which  are  attached  to  this  term  are  singu- 
larly universal,  as  has  been  attested  by  many  observers.  In 
Australia  as  well  as  in  America,  the  clans  believe  that  they 
are  under  the  protection  of  a  guardian  being,  ordinarily  an 
Animal,  which  they  must  persuade  by  means  of  favors  to 
shield  the  interests  of  the  clan.  This  totem  animal  becomes 
in  the  course  of  time  the  object  of  a  constant  cult,  in  which 
may  be  found  the  roots  to  a  large  number  of  the  ancestral 
superstitions  of  primitives,  and  even  of  civilized  peoples. 
The  clan  affix  the  image  of  their  totem  upon  their  weapons 
of  offense  and  defense.  Multiplication  of  the  tribe  can  also 
7>e  obtained  from  the  totem  animal  through  t^c  intervention 
of  magic.  Spencer,  Gillcn,  and  Frazer  have  described 
die  curious  ceremonies  which  the  Australians  perform  to- 
ward that  end,  at  the  foot  of  cliffs,  ornamented  with  zoomor- 
phic  designs.  Many  deta'ls  of  these  ma^ic  rites  recall  some 
of  the  observations  made  in  the  grottoes  of  Pcrigourdia  and 
the  Pyrenees.  Salomon  Rcinach,  who  is  equally  well  versed 
in  the  literature  of  the  totem  as  in  the  sc:ence  of  prehistory, 
was  the  first  to  disclose  very  remarkable  facts  that  have 
direct  bearing  upon  this  question.12 

As  we  have  seen,  the  paintings  of  our  caves  are  usually 
re-' note  from  the  entrance.  At  Niaux  the  visitor  must  pass 
Virough  a  subterranean  gallery,  800  meters  long,  in  order 
40  find  them.  At  Combarelles,  the  first  figures  are  at  least 
t20  meters  from  the  entrance.  Furthermore,  Spencer  and 


I  O  S  S  I  L     AND     PREHISTORIC     MAN  10  * 

Gillen  state  that  in  a  great  number  of  cases  the  Aus- 
tralian paintings  which  they  have  considered  to  be  ol 
totemistic  origin  ''arc  traced  upon  rocky  walls  in  localities 
that  are  strictly  ta'wo  to  women,  children,  and  uninitiated 
youths." lt<  Certain  designs  found  in  our  ornamented 
grottoes  also  occupy  hidden  recesses  in  the  walls  and  inac- 
cessible, bulging  surfaces  which  it  must  have  cost  the  artist 
great  difficulty  to  reach.  It  would,  therefore,  be  impossible  to 
view  these  designs,  which  are  so  well  hidden  from  the  sighr 
of  the  uninitiated,  as  mere  ornamental  decorations  or  as 
the  products  of  a  pastime  occupation  of  idle  Troglodytes. 

The  devotees  of  the  cult  of  the  emou  in  Australia  paint 
the  image  of  this  totem  upon  the  earth,  to  the  accompani- 
ment of  intricate  rites.  Around  it  the  men  of  the  clan  dance 
and  sing.  Now,  in  the  Pyrenean  grotto  of  Niaux,  MM. 
Cartailhac  and  Brctiil  discovered  animal  designs  not  only 
upon  the  walls,  but  to  their  great  surprise,  also  upon  the 
clayey  ground  of  the  gallery.  Various  symbols,  painted  or 
scratched  upon  the  figures,  conform  to  these  findings.  The 
tectiform  sign  of  the  hut  is  the  symbol  of  ownership  affixed 
by  the  hunter  upon  the  animal  which  he  should  bring  back 
with  him  to  the  camp;  but  its  success  is  assured  by  special 
rites.  The  magic  value  of  arrow-heads  is  emphasized  even 
better.  "The  clan  lived  on  meat,"  wrote  S.  Reinach.  "In  re- 
producing the  likeness  of  the  animals  which  furnished  their 
food,  they  believed  they  increase  their  number  and  stimu- 
late their  multiplication,  just  as  the  Australian  savages  be- 
lieve they  stimulate  the  multiplication  of  the  kangaroos 
by  performing  the  dance  of  the  kangaroo.  The  practice  of 
bewitching  a  living  person  by  inflicting  injury  or  destruc- 
tion upon  his  image  with  the  intent  of  harming  the  living 
is  a  phenomenon  of  the  same  kind,  only  inspired  by  an  op- 
posite sentiment.  The  notion  that  art  is  a  form  of  play  is 
perhaps  nothing  but  a  modern  prejudice;  art  began  as  a 
ritual  or  act  of  magic.  And  when  we  speak  to-day  of  the 
'magic  of  art/  we  do  not  know  how  truly  right  we  are.". 14 

The  same  author  has  also  called  attention  to  the  fact  that 


102  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

the  most  useful  animals  are  found  most  abundantly  de- 
picted in  these  wall  paintings  and  the  recent  discovery  of 
rare  images  of  carnivorous  animals  has  in  no  way  weakened 
the  value  of  his  observation. 

It  would  doubtless  be  stretching  the  facts  too  far  to  at- 
tempt to  attribute  a  religious  or  symbolic  significance  to 
every  quaternary  design.  The  various  instincts  of  human 
nature,  as  well  as  the  love  of  ornamentation,  have,  most 
likely,  rivaled  religious  beliefs  in  stimulating  art  among 
primitives.  It  must  be  recognized,  however,  that  the  totem- 
istic  interpretation,  based  upon  solidly  established  facts,  ex- 
plains better  than  any  other  hypothesis  the  origin  of  the  art 
of  the  reindeer  epoch.  Furthermore,  it  accounts  also  for  its 
sudden  disappearance,  which  is  no  less  surprising  than  its 
brilliant  flourish,  since  the  primitive  concepts  from  which 
these  paintings  have  sprung  have  been  at  home  among  the 
hunting  nomads.  During  the  neolithic  period  the  totemistic 
superstitions  no  longer  exercised  the  same  hold  upon  the 
inhabitants  of  Gaul,  henceforth  tillers  of  the  soil  and  shep- 
herds, and  it  never  again  .gave  rise  to  the  same  plastic  arts.15 

If  we  turn  our  attention  again  to  the  engravings  and  sculp- 
tures carried  out  upon  small  objects  of  durable  material, 
recalling  at  the  same  time  the  resemblance  of  their  numer- 
ous animal  drawings  to  the  wall  paintings,  it  will  appear 
logical  to  assume  that  one  part  at  least  of  these  objects  owes 
its  origin  to  concepts  of  the  same  nature.  The  toothed  arrow- 
heads which  the  bisons  of  the  grotto  of  Niaux  bear  on  their 
flanks  explain  to  us  the  similar  arrow-heads  engraved  upon 
the  prairie  dogs  of  Sorde,  and  the  interpretation  of  the 
batons  as  magic  wands  seems  to  us  more  acceptable  than 
any  other  conjecture. 

1  he  progress  of  science  has  gravely  undermined  the  an- 
cient theory  of  prehistorians,  who,  in  accordance  with  the 
doctrine  of  G.  de  Mortillet,  refused  to  concede  any  religious 
concept  to  quaternary  man.  For,  as  we  have  seen,  the  rein- 
deer hunters  did  have  their  sanctuaries  and  the  discovery 
of  these  mysterious  galleries,  revealing  the  vast  distribution, 


FOSSIL    AND    PREHISTORIC    MAN  103 

if  not  the  universality,  of  certain  beliefs  of  primitive  man, 
will  count  among  the  greatest  prehistoric  discoveries. 

NOTES 

1  George  Grey,  Journals  of  Two  Expeditions  of  Discovery  in  the  North- 
West  and  Western  Australia,  1841,  i,  p.  203;  cf.  Grosse,  Debuts  de  Clack 
1902,  p.  128. 

2  Stokes,  Discoveries  in  Australia. 
8  Cf.  Grosse,  ibid.,  p.  131. 

4  R.  H.  Mathcws,  Gravures  et  paintures  sur  rockers  (Rock  engravings 
and  paintings),  BSA,  1898,  p.  429;  also  Journal  of  the  Anthropological 
Institute,  London,  xxv,  p.  147. 

5  Grosse,  ibid.,  p.  131. 

6  Leon  Diguet,  Note  sur  la  pictographie  de  la  Basse-California,  Anthro* 
pologie,  1895,  P-  J6o. 

7  Cf.  the  recent  work  of  M.  Dellenbaugh,   The  North  Americans  o\ 
Yesterday,  1901,  pp.  42-43,  in  which  petroglyphs  depicting  hands,  feet; 
animals,    etc.,    are    reproduced.    One    quadruped    unearthed    in    Brown's 
Cave,  Wisconsin,  bears  a  tcctiform  sign  engraved  upon  its  flanks  (p.  41). 

8  This  discovery  was  made  by  Captain  Koch  and  Dr.  Jacquot  who  ac- 
companied Cavaignac  on  his  South  Orangian  expeditions   (L' Illustration, 
July  3,   1847).  Since  that  date  many  explorers  have   followed   in   their 
tracks  (cf.  Hamy,  R.  E.,  March-April  1882,  and  Flammand,  Anthropologief 
1892,  p.  145). 

9  Flammand,  Notes  sur  les  status  nouvelles  de  pierres  ecrites  du  Sud- 
Oranais,  Anthropologie,  1892,  p.  145;  ibid.,  Anthropologie,  1897,  p.  284; 
ibid.,  Les  pierre  ecrites  (Hadjrat  mef(toubat)  du  nord  de  L'Ajnque  et  spe~ 
cialement  de  la  region  d'In-Salah,  CIA,  Paris,  1900,  p.  265;  ibid.,  R.  C. 
Acad.  Inscr.,  July  12,  1899,  P*  437*  ar*d  Bull.  Soc.  Anthrop.,  Lyon,  1901, 
p.  181;  cf.  also  a  summary  by  Capitan,  REA,  1902,  p.  168. 

10  Flammand,  A  fas,  Pans,  1900,  i,  p.  211. 

11  Flammand,  ibid.,  p.  210. 

12"L'Art  et  la  Magie,"  Anthropologie,  1903,  p.  257.  This  article  has 
been  employed  in  the  account  quoted  in  the  following  note. 

18  S.  Reinach,  Cultes,  mythes,  et  religions,  vol.  i,  p.  131,  Paris,  1905. 
Cf.  in  this  important  collection  of  35  memoirs  and  articles  a  synthetic 
description  of  the  general  phenomena  of  animal  totemism  (Phenomenes 
generaux  du  totemisme  animal) ,  pp.  9-29.  Our  readers  may  refer  to  this 
work  for  sources. 

14  Salomon  Reinach,  Chroniquc  des  arts,  Feb.  7,  1903 

15  The  date  o£  certain  paintings,  traces  of  which  have  been  discovered 
upon  the  walls  of  Portuguese  dolmens  (Leite  de  Vascoucelles,  HP,  1907, 
P-  33)»  cannot  be  easily  established.  It  is  difficult  to  align  them  with  the 
works  of  the  quaternary  age. 


THE  PEKING  MAN* 
By  j.  H.  MCGREGOR 

NEW  discoveries  of  prehistoric  man  always  have  popular 
hews  interest.  Reports  of  them  are  often  distorted  or  exag- 
gerated, but  occasionally  they  are  based  upon  finds  of  im- 
portance and  permanent  scientific  value.  The  latest  case, 
the  discovery  last  December  [1929]  of  an  ancient  human 
skull  near  Peking,  has  been  widely  heralded  as  marking  a 
notable  advance  in  our  knowledge  of  early  humanity.  When 
Professor  G.  Elliot  Smith  of  London  acclaims  this  fossil  as 
"certainly  the  most  illuminating  fragment  of  early  man  ever 
found,"  it  may  be  assumed  that  it  is  something  more  than 
merely  "another  prehistoric  skull,"  even  though  it  should 
fall  short  of  meriting  this  superlative  characterization. 

I  shall  attempt  here  to  present  briefly  the  more  notable 
features  of  this  discovery  with  a  minimum  of  technical  de- 
tail, to  evaluate  it  in  relation  to  present  knowledge,  and  to 
answer  some  of  the  questions  people  are  asking  about  it. 

Some  two  years  ago  Dr.  Davidson  Black,  professor  of 
anatomy  in  the  Peking  Union  Medical  College,  had  the 
temerity,  or  the  foresight,  to  establish  a  new  genus  and 
species  of  early  man  upon  the  meager  basis  of  a  lower  molar 
tooth,  found  in  1927  in  a  cave  deposit  of  the  early  Pleisto- 
cene age,  at  Chou  Kou  Tien,  thirty-seven  miles  southwest 
of  Peking.  He  called  it  Sinanthroptts  pe^inensis — Chinese 
man  of  Peking.  (Time  will  show  whether  the  creation  of 
a  new  genus  was  justified;  at  present  there  is  difference  of 
opinion  on  this  point.)  Some  other  human  teeth  had  been 
found  previously  in  the  same  deposit,  and  further  excava- 
tions in  1928  and  1929  yielded  additional  ones  as  well  as 
I  wo  fragments  of  lower  jaws  and  a  few  small  pieces  of  other 

*This  article  was  published  in  The  New  Republic,  August  13,  1930. 

104 


FOSSIL    AND    PREHISTORIC    MAN  105 

skull  bones,  all  showing  certain  primitive  features.  On 
December  2,  1929,  Mr.  W.  C.  Pei,  a  young  Chinese  paleon- 
tologist, on  the  staff  of  the  Cenozoic  Laboratory  of  the  Geo- 
logical Survey  of  China,  found  in  this  Chou  Kou  Tien 
deposit  a  human  skull  which  unquestionably  belongs  to  the 
same  type.  The  skull  is  incomplete,  lacking  the  facial  region, 
but  the  brain  case  is  uncrushcd  and  almost  intact. 

One  especially  gratifying  feature  of  the  discovery  is  the 
completeness  of  its  geological  and  paleontological  docu- 
mentation. In  a  preliminary  report  on  the  geology  and  pale- 
ontology of  the  Chou  Kou  Tien  deposit,  the  authors,  Pere 
Teilhard  dc  Chardin  and  Dr.  C.  C.  Young,  present  abundant 
evidence  for  regarding  it  as  belonging  to  very  early  Pleisto- 
cene (Basal  Lower  Quaternary),  a  period  comparable  to 
the  very  beginning  of  the  Ice  Age  of  Europe.  The  finding 
of  human  bones  in  a  deposit  proved  to  be  so  old  as  this  is 
a  discovery  of  the  first  magnitude  in  human  paleontology. 
As  the  beginning  of  the  Pleistocene  period  is  variously 
estimated  at  from  500,000  to  1,200,000  years  ago,  a  fair 
guess  as  to  the  age  of  the  Peking  man  nvght  be  perhaps 
upwards  of  a  million  years!  Associated  with  the  human 
fossils  are  numerous  mammalian  bones  of  various  species, 
which  establish  the  geologic  age,  as  they  arc  clearly  distin- 
guishable from  the  species  of  the  preceding  Late  Pliocene 
period  (Tertiary),  and  also  from  those  of  the  subsequent 
loess,  which  is  of  Middle  and  Later  Pleistocene  age. 

The  fossilized  bones  are  found  in  certain  fissures  at  the 
base  of  low  hills  formed  largely  of  limestone.  In  the  days  of 
Sinanthropus  these  were  open  clefts  or  caves,  but  during 
the  course  of  ages  they  became  gradually  filled  with  de- 
posits of  red  clay,  limestone  and  bones,  which  finally  became 
cemented  together  by  secondary  limestone  infiltration. 
Some  of  the  bones,  even  the  human  remains,  may  have  been 
brought  into  these  rock  clefts  by  animals.  As  remarked  by 
the  authors  of  the  report,  "Sinanthropus  itself  may  once 
have  sheltered  within  the  Chou  Kou  Tien  cave";  but  it  if 
impossible  to  say  definitely  whether  or  not  the  Peking  mar 


106  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

was  a  cave  dweller,  and  as  there  is  complete  absence  of 
worked  flints  or  other  implements  nothing  whatsoever  is 
yet  known  of  his  cultural  status.  The  definite  olacing  of 
Sinanthropus  in  the  very  early  Pleistocene  has  important 
bearing  on  its  possible  relationship  to  other  ancient  types, 
for  this  skull  may  well  be  the  oldest  human  fossil  thus  far 
found.  It  clearly  antedates  the  Neanderthal  race,  and  is 
apparently  somewhat  older  than  the  Heidelberg  man. 

The  Java  "ape-man,"  Pithecanthropus,  which  was  for- 
merly believed  by  Dr.  E.  Dubois,  who  discovered  it,  to  be 
of  Late  Tertiary  age,  is  now  rather  generally  regarded,  upon 
strong  evidence,  as  a  fairly  early  Pleistocene  form,  which 
implies  that  it  is  no  more  ancient  than  the  Peking  man  and 
perhaps  not  so  old.  The  remains  of  the  Piltdown  "dawn 
man,"  Eoanthropus,  found  in  England  in  1911-13,  are  poorly 
documented  as  to  geologic  age,  but  are  commonly  held  to 
be  also  Early  or  Middle  Pleistocene;  though  Professor  H. 
F.  Osborn  has  recently  advanced  the  opinion  that  this 
type  lived  as  early  as  Late  Pliocene  time,  which  would  make 
him  an  example  of  the  long  sought,  but  hitherto  more  or 
less  hypothetical,  Tertiary  man.  But  whether  older  or 
more  recent,  the  Piltdown  type  with  its  apelike  teeth  and 
jaws,  rounded  cranium  and  absence  of  brow  ridges,  is  not, 
in  my  opinion,  so  nearly  related  to  Peking  man  as  are 
Pithecanthropus  and  especially  the  Neanderthal  species,  but 
belongs  to  another  and  widely  divergent  branch  of  our 
family  tree. 

The  discovery  of  human  remains  of  such  great  antiquity 
in  China,  while  highly  important,  is  not  in  itself  very  sur- 
prising. Central  Asia  has  long  been  regarded  as  the  pre- 
sumptive "cradle  of  humanity,"  as  also  of  humanity's  nearest 
relatives.  Paleontology  affords  cogent  evidence  for  this  view 
which  need  not  be  reveiwed  here.  Expeditions  from  the 
American  Museum  of  Natural  History  have  been  diligently 
seeking  man's  ancestors  in  China  and  Mongolia  for  several 
years.  The  Neanderthal  species,  widely  distributed  through 


FOSSIL    AND    PREHISTORIC    MAN  107 

Europe,  has  recently  (1925)  been  found  as  far  eastward  as 
Palestine.  Flint  implements,  similar  to  those  of  the  Mous- 
terian  (Neanderthal)  culture  of  Europe,  have  been  found 
in  Shensi  province  in  China  near  the  upper  Yellow  River 
and  also  in  the  Ordos  desert  in  Mongolia.  Thus  it  appears 
probable  that  Neanderthal  man  may  have  been  a  widespread 
Eurasian  race  rather  than  limited  to  the  western  or  Euro- 
pean portion  of  that  vast  continent.  For  some  years  past  I 
have  frequently  expressed  the  opinion  that  the  discovery 
in  Asia  of  Neanderthal  man,  or  a  pre-neanderthaloid  such 
as  the  Heidelberg  race,  would  not  be  surprising.  Therefore, 
the  finding  of  Sinanthropus,  which,  as  Professor  Black  truly 
says,  "might  well  be  regarded  as  pre-neanderthaloid  in  type," 
although  a  discovery  of  outstanding  importance,  can  hardly 
be  said  to  revolutionize  our  ideas  regarding  early  man,  but 
rather  to  confirm  previous  theories.  The  proving  of  a 
theory  by  new  evidence  is  quite  as  important,  and  scientifi- 
cally more  constructive,  than  overturning  it  by  similar 
means. 

Fortunately,  Professor  Black  and  his  colleagues,  instead 
of  withholding  the  details  of  their  discovery  until  they  could 
publish  a  complete  description,  have  generally  presented  the 
facts  in  well-illustrated  preliminary  reports.  The  skull,  which 
was  partly  embedded  in  hard  travertine,  has  been  carefully 
freed  from  this  matrix,  and  its  main  features  are  clearly 
exhibited  in  a  series  of  life-sized  photographs  recently  sent 
to  this  country.  In  size  it  somewhat  exceeds  the  cranium  of 
Pithecanthropus,  but  is  not  quite  so  large  as  the  female 
Neanderthal  from  Gibraltar.  In  profile  view  it  is  almost 
exactly  like  the  skulls  of  the  well-known  Neanderthal 
species,  with  the  heavy  brow  ridge  overhanging  the  eyes,  so 
strikingly  characteristic  of  that  race,  but  the  crown  is  even 
a  trifle  lower.  Seen  in  top  view  also  the  outline  is  completely 
neanderthaloid,  but  when  examined  from  the  rear  a  marked 
difference  is  apparent  in  that  the  broadest  part  of  this  skull 
is  very  low,  only  slightly  above  the  ear  openings,  the  skull 


I08  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

becoming  narrower  above  this  region.  This  relative  narrow- 
ing of  the  upper  part  of  the  skull,  which  is  found  also  in 
Pithecanthropus  (and  in  the  Eoanthropus  skull  as  restored), 
must  be  regarded  as  an  extremely  primitive  feature,  which 
in  correlation  with  the  very  flat  low  crown  proves  that  the 
brain  was  less  voluminous  than  in  a  typical  Neanderthal 
skull  of  equal  length  and  width.  As  the  cranial  capacities  of 
Pithecanthropus  and  the  Gibraltar  skull  arc  respectively 
about  940  and  1,280  cubic  centimeters,  one  might  tentatively 
estimate  that  of  the  new  skull  as  somewhere  between  1,100 
and  1,200  cubic  centimeters,  which  is  well  above  the  mini- 
mum capacity  of  modern  normal  crania.  The  capacity  will 
eventually  be  determined  with  approximate  accuracy,  as  a 
cast  of  the  interior  will  surely  be  made,  and  as  the  brain  case 
is  so  nearly  complete,  only  a  small  portion  of  the  base  will 
require  restoration. 

It  is  regrettable  that  nothing  is  positively  known  regard- 
ing th^  cranium  of  Homo  (Paleoanthropus)  heidelbergensis 
(of  which  a  lower  jaw  only  was  found  in  Germany  in 
1907),  as  the  new  Peking  skull  realizes  so  admirably  the 
Ejuess  one  might  make  as  to  what  the  Heidelberg  cranium 
would  probably  be  like.  Though  the  Sinanthroptts  skull 
lacks  the  facial  bones,  the  numerous  teeth  and  two  jaw 
fragments  give  us  some  idea  of  this  region.  Thus  one  piece, 
the  anterior  part  of  a  jaw  containing  several  teeth,  demon- 
strates the  complete  absence  of  any  chin  prominence.  This, 
together  with  the  dental  features,  marks  additional  resem- 
blance to  the  Neanderthal  and  Heidelberg  types,  except  that 
the  molars  do  not  show  a  certain  specialized  condition 
known  as  "taurodonty,"  which  is  observable  in  some,  though 
not  in  all,  Neanderthal  teeth.  The  canines  are  not  enlarged, 
nor  in  any  sense  apelike,  as  are  those  of  the  Piltdown  "dawn- 
man,"  and  in  general  the  teeth,  though  primitive  and  gen- 
eralized, are  completely  human.  The  skull  is  that  of  an 
individual  of  early  adult  or  adolescent  age,  and  from  its 
general  shape  and  modeling  Professor  Black  considers  it  to 


FOSSIL    AND    PREHISTORIC    MAN  lOp 

be  that  of  a  female,  but  in  the  absence  of  other  skulls  for 
comparison  it  is  impossible  to  be  certain  of  the  sex.  The 
great  development  of  the  brow  ridge  would  rather  indicate 
that  it  is  a  male. 

In  brief,  Sinanthropiis  is  an  extremely  early  human  type, 
apparently  at  least  as  old  as  any  other  hominid  thus  far 
known,  and  probably  the  oldest.  Belonging  at  the  beginning 
of  the  Pleistocene,  its  age,  as  I  have  said,  may  be  a  million 
years!  Its  closest  anatomical  affinities  arc  with  the  some- 
what later  Neanderthal  race,  and  it  seems  well  qualified  to 
be  regarded  as  a  prc-neanderthaloid  and  probably  ancestral 
to  the  true  Neanderthals.  Complete  knowledge  of  the  more 
nearly  contemporary  Heidelberg  species  might  reveal  a  still 
closer  relationship  to  that  type,  but  any  kinship  to  the  Pilt- 
down  man  must  be  quite  remote.  As  for  the  cultural  status 
of  Sinanthropiis,  there  is  thus  far  no  evidence  whatsoever. 
This  new  discovery  does  not  overthrow  previous  theories, 
but  rather  confirms  them,  as  there  has  been  ample  reason  to 
anticipate  the  finding  of  very  early  man  in  Asia,  and  espe- 
cially man  of  neamlcrthaloid  affinities.  The  possible  relation 
of  Sinanthropiis  to  our  own  species  is  far  more  doubtful. 
We  know  nothing  about  it,  but  regarding  this  point  we  may 
quote  with  approval  Professor  Black's  cautious  statement 
that  "Its  dental  characters  certainly  would  seem  to  indicate 
that  Sinanthropiis  could  not  have  been  far  removed  from 
the  type  of  hominid  from  which  evolved  both  the  extinct 
Neander thaler  and  the  modern  Homo  sapiens."  This  is  far 
from  being  a  definite  assertion  that  Peking  man  was  out 
ancestor. 

The  fact  that  Sinanthropiis  lived  in  China  carries  no  pos- 
sible implication  that  he  was  a  prc-mongoloid.  A  type  so 
ancient  that  it  antedates  the  emergence  of  Homo  sapiens 
by  hundreds  of  millenniums  can  have  no  special  relationship 
to  any  particular  racial  subdivision  of  "Wise  Man,"  so  we 
may  be  sure  that  this  venerable  fossil  is  no  more  eligible  to 
ancestor  worship  by  the  yellow  race  than  by  the  white  or 
black. 


110  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

Fortunately,  the  Chou  Kou  Tien  cave  deposits  are  not 
yet  depleted.  An  additional  skeletal  discovery  has  already 
been  reported,  and  we  have  the  right  to  hope  that  there  will 
be  cultural  ones  as  well. 


II 

RACE  AND  LANGUAGE 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  RACE* 

By  FRANZ  BOAS 

IN  the  present  cultural  conditions  of  mankind  we  observe, 
or  observed  at  least  until  very  recent  time,  a  cleavage  of  cul- 
tural forms  according  to  racial  types.  The  contrast  between 
European  and  Japanese  began  to  introduce  European  pat- 
terns. Still  greater  appeared  the  contrasts  between  Europeans, 
native  Australians,  African  Negroes  and  American  Indians. 
It  is,  therefore,  but  natural  that  much  thought  has  been  given 
to  the  problem  of  the  interrelation  between  race  and  culture 
Even  in  Europe  cultural  differences  between  North  Euro 
f>eans  and  people  of  the  Mediterranean,  between  West  ana 
Eat  Europeans,  are  striking  and  are  correlated  with  dif- 
ferences in  physical  appearance.  This  explains  why  number- 
less books  and  essays  have  been  and  are  being  written  based 
on  the  assumption  that  each  race  has  its  own  mental  cha* 
acter  determining  its  cultural  or  social  behavior.  In  America 
particularly  fears  are  being  expressed  of  the  effects  of  inter- 
mixture of  races,  of  a  modification  or  deterioration  of  na- 
tional character  on  account  of  the  influx  of  new  types  into 
the  population  of  our  country,  and  policies  of  controlling 
the  growth  of  the  population  are  being  proposed  and  laws 
based  on  these  assumptions  have  been  passed. 

The  differences  of  cultural  outlook  and  of  bodily  ap- 
pearance have  given  rise  to  antagonisms  that  are  rationalized 
as  due  to  instinctive  racial  antipathies. 

There  is  little  clarity  in  regard  to  the  term  "race."  When 
we  speak  of  racial  characteristics  we  mean  those  traits  that 
are  determined  by  heredity  in  each  race  and  in  which  all 
members  of  the  race  participate.  Comparing  Swedes  and 
Negroes,  lack  of  pigmentation  of  skin,  eye  and  hair  are 

*  Anthropology.  New  York:  W.  W.  Norton  &  Co. 

113 


114  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

hereditary  racial  characteristics;  or  the  straight  or  wavy  hair 
of  the  Swede,  the  frizzly  hair  of  the  Negro,  the  narrowness 
and  elevation  of  the  nose  among  the  Swedes,  its  width  and 
flatness  among  the  Negroes,  all  these  are  hereditary  racial 
traits  because  practically  all  the  Swedes  and  Negroes  partici- 
pate in  them. 

In  other  respects  it  is  not  so  easy  to  define  racial  traits. 
Anatomists  cannot  with  certainty  differentiate  between  the 
orain  of  a  Swede  and  of  a  Negro.  The  brains  of  each  group 
vary  so  much  in  form  that  it  is  often  difficult  to  say,  if  we 
have  no  other  criteria,  whether  a  certain  brain  belongs  to  a 
Swede  or  to  a  Negro. 

The  nearer  two  races  are  related  the  more  traits  they 
will  have  in  common.  A  knowledge  of  all  the  bodily  traits 
of  a  particular  individual  from  Denmark  does  not  enable 
us  to  identify  him  as  a  Dane.  If  he  is  tall,  blond,  blue-eyed, 
long-headed  and  so  on  he  might  as  well  be  a  Swede.  We 
also  find  individuals  of  the  same  bodily  form  in  Germany, 
in  France  and  we  may  even  find  them  in  Italy.  Identification 
of  an  individual  as  a  member  of  a  definite,  local  race  is 
not  possible. 

Whenever  these  conditions  prevail,  we  cannot  speak  of 
racial  heredity.  In  a  strict  sense  racial  heredity  means  that 
all  the  members  of  the  race  partake  of  certain  traits, — such 
as  the  hair,  pigmentation  and  nose  form  of  the  Negro,  as 
compared  to  the  corresponding  features  among  the  North 
European.  All  those  forms  that  are  peculiar  to  some  mem- 
bers of  the  race,  not  to  all,  are  in  no  sense  true  hereditary 
racial  characteristics.  The  greater  the  number  of  individuals 
exhibiting  these  traits  the  less  is  their  racial  significance. 
North  Italians  are  round-headed,  Scandinavians  long- 
headed. Still,  so  many  different  forms  are  represented  in 
cither  series,  and  other  bodily  forms  are  so  much  alike  that  it 
would  be  impossible  to  claim  that  an  individual  selected  at 
random  must  be  a  North  Italian  or  a  Scandinavian.  Extreme 
Jorms  in  which  the  local  characteristics  are  most  pronounced 
might  be  identified  with  a  fair  degree  of  probability,  but  in- 


RACE    AND    LANGUAGE  115 

tennediate  forms  might  belong  to  either  group.  The  bodily 
traits  of  the  two  groups  are  not  racial  characteristics  in  the 
strict  sense  of  the  term.  Although  it  is  possible  to  describe 
the  most  common  types  of  these  groups  by  certain  metric  and 
descriptive  traits,  not  all  the  members  of  the  groups  conform 
tc  them. 

We  are  easily  misled  by  general  impressions.  Most  of  the 
Swedes  are  blond,  blue-eyed,  tall  and  long-headed.  This 
causes  us  co  formulate  in  our  min<ds  the  ideal  of  a  Swede 
and  we  forget  the  variations  that  occur  in  Scandinavia.  If 
we  talk  of  a  Sicilian  we  think  of  a  swarthy,  short  person, 
with  dark  eye.  2nd  dark  hair.  Individuals  differing  from 
this  type  are  not  m  our  mind  when  we  think  of  a  "typical" 
Sicilian.  The  more  uniform  a  people  the  more  strongly  are 
we  impressed  by  the  'type."  Every  country  impresses  us  a* 
inhabited  by  a  certain  type  the  traits  of  which  are  determined 
by  the  most  frequently  occurring  forms.  This,  however,  doe* 
not  tell  us  anything  in  regard  to  its  hereditary  composition 
and  the  range  of  its  variations.  The  "type"  is  formed  quite 
subjectively  on  the  basis  of  our  everyday  experience. 

Suppose  a  Swede,  from  a  region  in  which  blondness,  blue 
eyes,  tall  stature  prevail  in  almost  the  whole  population, 
should  visit  Scotland  and  express  his  experiences  naively. 
He  would  say  that  there  are  many  individuals  of  Swedish 
type,  but  that  besides  this  another  type  inhabits  the  country, 
of  dark  complexion,  dark  hair,  and  eyes,  but  tall  and  long- 
headed. The  population  would  seem  to  represent  two 
types,  not  that  biologically  the  proof  would  have  been  given 
of  race  mixture;  it  would  merely  be  an  expression  due  tf» 
earlier  experiences.  The  unfamiliar  type  stands  out  as  some- 
thing new  and  the  inclination  prevails  to  consider  the  new 
type  as  racially  distinct.  Conversely,  a  Scotchman  who  visits 
Sweden  would  be  struck  by  the  similarity  between  most 
Swedes  and  the  blond  Scotch,  and  he  would  say  that  there 
is  a  very  large  number  of  the  blond  Scotch  with  whom  he 
is  familiar,  without  reaching  the  conclusion  that  his  own 
type  is  mixed. 


THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

We  speak  of  racial  types  in  a  similar  way.  When  we  See 
American  Indians  we  recognize  some  as  looking  like 
Asiatics,  others  like  East  Europeans,  still  others  are  said 
to  br  of  a  Jewish  cast.  We  classify  the  variety  of  forms  ac- 
cording to  our  previous  experience  and  we  are  inclined  to 
consider  the  divergent  forms  that  are  well  established  in  our 
consciousness  as  pure  types,  particularly  if  they  appear  as 
extreme  forms. 

Thus  the  North  European  blond  and  the  Armenian  with 
his  high  nose  and  his  remarkably  high  head,  which  is  flat 
behind,  appear  as  pure  types. 

Biologically  speaking,  this  is  an  unjustifiable  assumption. 
Extreme  forms  are  not  pure  racial  types.  We  do  not  know 
how  much  their  descendants  may  vary  among  themselves 
and  what  their  ancestry  may  have  been.  Even  if  it  were 
shown  that  the  extreme  types  were  of  homogeneous  descent, 
this  would  not  prove  that  the  intermediate  types  might  not 
be  equally  homogeneous. 

It  is  well  to  remember  that  heredity  means  the  transmis- 
sion of  anatomical  and  functional  characteristics  from  an- 
cestors to  offspring.  What  we  call  nowadays  a  race  of  man 
consists  of  groups  of  individuals  in  which  descent  from 
common  ancestors  cannot  be  proved. 

All  we  know  is  that  the  children  of  a  given  family  rep- 
resent the  hereditarily  transmitted  qualities  of  their  an- 
cestors. Such  a  group  of  brothers  and  sisters  is  called  a 
fraternity. 

Not  all  the  members  of  a  fraternity  are  alike.  They  scat- 
ter around  a  certain  middle  value.  If  the  typical  distribution 
of  forms  in  all  the  groups  of  brothers  and  sisters  that  con- 
stitute the  race  were  alike,  then  we  could  talk  of  racial 
heredity,  for  each  fraternity  would  represent  the  racial 
characteristics.  We  cannot  speak  of  racial  heredity  if  the 
fraternities  are  different,  so  that  the  distribution  of  forms 
in  one  family  is  different  from  that  found  in  another  one. 
In  this  case  the  fraternities  represent  distinctive  hereditary 
fam.ly  lines.  Actually  in  all  the  known  races  the  single 


RACE    AND    LANGUAGE  117 

family  lines  as  represented  by  fraternities  show  ?  con- 
siderable amount  of  variation  which  indicates  that  the 
hereditary  characteristics  of  the  families  are  not  the  same, 
a  result  that  may  be  expected  whenever  the  ancestors  have 
distinct  heritable  characteristics.  In  addition  to  this  we  may 
observe  that  a  fraternity  found  in  one  race  may  be  dupli- 
cated by  another  one  in  another  race;  in  other  words,  that 
the  hereditary  characteristics  found  in  one  race  may  not 
belong  to  it  exclusively,  but  may  belong  also  to  other  races. 

This  may  be  illustrated  by  an  extreme  case.  If  I  wish  to 
know  "the  type"  of  the  New  Yorker,  I  may  not  pick  out 
any  one  particular  family  and  claim  that  it  is  a  good  rep- 
"esentative  of  the  type.  I  might  happen  to  select  a  family 
of  pure  English  descent;  and  I  might  happen  to  strike  an 
Irish,  Italian,  Jewish,  German,  Armenian  or  Negro  family. 
All  these  types  are  so  different  and,  if  inbred,  continue  their 
types  so  consistently  that  none  of  them  can  possibly  be 
taken  as  a  representative  New  Yorker.  Conditions  in  France 
are  similar.  I  cannot  select  at  random  a  French  family  and 
consider  its  members  as  typical  of  Prance.  They  may  be 
blond  Northwest  Europeans,  darker  Central  Europeans  or 
of  Mediterranean  type.  In  New  York  as  well  as  in  France 
the  family  lines  are  so  diverse  that  there  is  no  racial  unity 
and  no  racial  heredity. 

Matters  are  different  in  old,  inbred 'communities.  If  a 
number  of  families  have  intermarried  for  centuries  without 
appreciable  addition  of  foreign  blood  they  will  all  be  closely 
related  and  the  same  ancestral  traits  will  appear  in  all  the 
families.  Brothers  and  sisters  in  any  one  family  may  be 
quite  unlike  among  themselves,  but  all  the  family  lines  will 
have  considerable  likeness.  It  is  much  more  feasible  to  obtain 
an  impression  of  the  general  character  of  the  population  by 
examining  a  single  family  than  in  the  preceding  cases,  and 
a  few  families  would  give  us  a  good  picture  of  the  whole 
race.  Conditions  of  this  type  prevail  among  the  landowners 
in  small  European  villages.  They  are  found  in  the  "high 
,  nobility  of  Europe  and  also  among  some  isolated  tribes, 


tl8  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

The  Eskimos  of  North  Greenland,  for  instance,  have  been 
isolated  for  centuries.  Their  number  can  never  have  ex- 
ceeded a  few  hundred.  There  are  no  rigid  rules  proscribing 
marriages  between  relatives,  so  that  we  may  expect  that 
unions  were  largely  dictated  by  chance.  The  ancestors  of 
the  tribe  were  presumably  a  small  number  of  Eskimos  who 
happened  to  settle  there  and  whose  blood  flows  in  the  veins 
of  all  the  members  of  the  present  generation.  The  people 
all  bear  a  considerable  likeness,  but  unfortunately  we  do  not 
know  in  how  far  the  family  lines  are  alike. 

We  have  information  of  this  kind  from  one  of  the  isolated 
Tennessee  valleys  in  which  people  have  intermarried  among 
themselves  for  a  century.  The  family  lines  in  this  community 
are  very  much  alike. 

In  cases  of  this  kind  it  does  not  matter  whether  the  an- 
cestry is  homogeneous  or  belongs  to  quite  distinct  races. 
As  long  as  there  is  continued  inbreeding  the  family  lines 
will  become  alike.  The  differences  of  racial  descent  will 
rather  appear  in  the  differences  between  brothers  and  sisters, 
some  of  whom  will  lean  towards  one  of  the  ancestral  strains, 
others  to  the  other.  The  distribution  of  different  racial  forms 
in  all  the  various  families  will  be  the  more  the  same,  the 
longer  the  inbreeding  without  selection  continues.  We  have 
a  few  examples  of  this  kind.  The  Bastaards  of  South  Africa, 
largely  an  old  mixture  of  Dutch  and  Hottentot,  and  the 
Chippewa  of  eastern  Canada,  descendants  of  French  and 
Indians,  are  inbred  communities.  Accordingly,  the  family 
lines  among  them  are  quite  similar,  while  the  brothers  and 
sisters  in  each  family  differ  strongly  among  themselves. 

In  modern  society,  particularly  in  cities,  conditions  are  not 
favorable  to  inbreeding.  The  larger  the  area  inhabited  by  a 
people,  the  denser  and  the  more  mobile  the  population,  the 
less  are  the  families  inbred  and  the  more  may  we  expect 
very  diverse  types  of  family  lines. 

The  truth  of  this  statement  may  readily  be  demonstrated. 
Notwithstanding  the  apparent  homogeneity  of  the  Swedish 
nation,  there  are  many  different  family  lines  represented. 


RACE    AND    LANGUAGE     '  119 

Many  are  "typical"  blond  Swedes  but  in  other  families  dark 
hair  and  brown  eyes  are  hereditary.  The  range  of  hereditary 
forms  is  considerable. 

It  has  been  stated  before  that  many  individuals  of  Swedish 
types  may  be  duplicated  in  neighboring  countries.  The  same 
is  true  of  family  lines.  It  would  not  be  difficult  to  find  in 
Denmark,  Germany,  Holland  or  northern  France  families 
that  might  apparently  just  as  well  be  Swedes;  or  in  Sweden 
families  that  might  as  well  be  French  or  German. 

In  these  cases  hereditary  characteristics  are  not  "racially" 
determined,  but  belong  to  family  lines  that  occur  in  many 
"racial"  groups.  Just  as  soon  as  family  lines  of  the  same  form 
are  found  in  a  number  of  racial  groups  the  term  "racial 
heredity"  loses  its  meaning.  We  can  speak  solely  of  "heredity 
in  family  lines."  The  term  "racial  heredity"  presupposes  a 
homogeneity  of  lines  of  descent  in  different  races,  that  do 
not  exist. 

In  short,  if  we  wish  to  discuss  racial  traits  we  have  to 
recognize  that  a  great  diversity  of  these  occurs  in  every  race 
and  that  they  are  inherited  not  racially,  but  in  family  lines. 
Characteristics  of  this  type  do  not  belong  to  the  race  as  ,i 
whole. 

Another  important  problem  confronts  us.  We  have  seen 
that  our  concept  of  types  is  based  on  subjective  experience. 
On  account  of  the  preponderance  of  "typical"  Swedes  we 
are  inclined  to  consider  all  those  of  different  type  as  not 
belonging  to  the  racial  type,  as  foreign  admixtures.  There 
is  a  somewhat  distinct  type  in  Sweden  in  the  old  mining 
districts  which  were  first  worked  by  Walloons  and  it  is 
more  than  probable  that  the  great  darkness  of  complexion 
in  this  region  is  due  to  the  influence  of  Walloon  blood. 
We  are  very  ready  to  explain  every  deviation  from  a  type 
in  this  way.  In  many  cases  this  is  undoubtedly  correct,  for 
intermingling  of  distinct  types  of  people  has  been  going 
on  for  thousands  of  years;  but  we  do  not  know  to  what 
extent  a  type  may  vary  when  no  admixture  of  foreign  blood 
has  occurred.  The  experience  of  animal  br^ders  proves  that 


120  'THE    MAKING    Or    MAN 

even  with  intensive  inbreeding  of  pure  stock  there  always 
remains  a  considerable  amount  of  variation  between  in- 
dividuals. We  have  no  evidence  to  show  to  what  extent 
variations  of  this  kind  might  develop  in  a  pure  human 
race  and  it  is  not  probable  that  satisfactory  evidence  will 
ever  be  forthcoming,  because  we  have  no  pure  races.  The 
history  of  the  whole  world  shows  us  mankind  constantly 
on  the  move;  people  from  eastern  Asia  coming  to  Europe; 
those  of  western  and  central  Asia  invading  southern  Asia; 
North  Europeans  sweeping  over  Mediterranean  countries; 
Central  Africans  extending  their  territories  over  almost  the 
whole  of  South  Africa;  people  from  Alaska  spreading  to 
northern  Mexico  or  vice  versa;  South  Americans  settling 
almost  over  the  whole  eastern  part  of  the  continent  here 
and  there, — in  short,  from  earliest  times  on  we  have  *  pic- 
ture of  continued  movements,  and  with  it  of  mixtures  of 
diverse  people. 

It  may  well  be  that  the  lack  of  clean-cut  geographical  and 
biological  lines  between  the  races  of  man  is  entirely  due  to 
these  circumstances.  The  conditions  are  quite  like  those 
found  in  the  animal  world.  Local  races  of  remote  districts 
may  readily  be  recognized,  but  in  many  cases  they  are  united 
by  intermediate  forms. 

We  have  seen  that  on  account  of  the  lack  of  sharp  dis- 
tinctions between  neighboring  populations  it  happens  that 
apparently  identical  family  lines  occur  in  both,  and  that 
an  individual  in  one  may  resemble  in  bodily  form  an 
individual  in  another.  Notwithstanding  their  resemblances 
it  can  be  demonstrated  that  they  are  functionally  not  by 
any  means  equivalent,  for  when  we  compare  their  children 
they  will  be  found  to  revert  more  or  less  to  the  type  of 
the  population  to  which  the  parents  belong.  To  give  an 
example:  the  Bohemians  have,  on  the  average,  round  heads, 
the  Swedes  long  heads.  Nevertheless  it  is  possible  to  find 
among  both  populations  parents  that  have  the  same  head 
forms.  The  selected  group  among  the  Swedes  will  naturally 
be  more  round-headed  than  the  average  Swede,  and  the 


RACE    AND    LANGUAGE  121 

Delected  Bohemians  will  be  more  long-headed  than  the  aver- 
age Bohemians.  The  children  of  the  selected  group  of 
Swedes  are  found  to  be  more  long-headed  than  their  parents, 
those  of  the  selected  group  of  Bohemians  more  short-headed 
than  their  parents. 

The  cause  of  this  is  not  difficult  to  understand.  If  we  pick 
out  short-headed  individuals  among  the  Swedes,  short* 
headedncss  may  be  an  individual  nonhereditary  trait.  Fur- 
thermore the  general  run  of  their  relatives  will  be  similar 
to  the  long-headed  Swedish  type  and  since  the  form  of  the 
offspring  depends  not  only  upon  the  parent,  but  also  upon 
the  characteristics  of  his  whole  family  line,  at  least  of  his  foui 
grandparents,  a  reversion  to  the  general  population  may  be 
expected.  The  same  is  true  among  the  Bohemians. 

We  must  conclude  that  individuals  of  the  same  bodily 
appearance,  if  sprung  from  populations  of  distinct  type,  are 
functionally  not  the  same.  For  this  reason  it  is  quite  un- 
justifiable to  select  from  a  population  a  certain  type  and 
claim  that  it  is  identical  with  the  corresponding  type  of 
another  population.  Each  individual  must  be  studied  as  a 
member  of  the  group  from  which  he  has  sprung.  We  may 
not  assume  that  the  round-headed  or  brunette  individuals 
in  Denmark  are  identical  with  the  corresponding  forms 
from  Switzerland.  Even  if  no  anatomical  differences  be- 
tween two  series  of  such  individuals  arc  discernible  they 
represent  genetically  distinctive  strains.  Identity  can  occur 
in  exceptional  individuals  only. 

If  we  were  to  select  a  group  of  tall,  blond  Sicilians,  men 
and  women,  who  marry  among  themselves,  we  must  expect 
that  their  offspring  in  later  generations  will  revert  more  or 
less  to  the  Sicilian  type,  and,  conversely,  if  we  select  a  group 
of  brunette,  brown-eyed  Swedes,  their  offspring  will  revert 
more  or  less  to  the  blond,  blue-eyed  Swedish  type. 

We  have  spoken  so  far  only  of  the  hereditary  conditions 
of  stable  races.  We  imply  by  the  term  racial  heredity  that 
the  composition  of  succeeding  generations  is  identical.  When 
one  generation  dies,  the  next  one  is  assumed  to  represent 


122  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

the  same  type  of  population.  This  can  be  true  only  if  random 
matings  occur  in  each  generation.  If  in  the  first  generation 
there  was  a  random  selection  of  mates,  due  to  chance  only, 
the  same  condition  must  prevail  in  the  following  genera- 
tions. Any  preferential  mating,  any  selective  change  in 
group  mortality  or  fertility,  or  brought  about  by  migration, 
must  modify  the  genetic  composition  of  the  group. 

For  these  reasons  none  of  our  modern  populations  is 
stable  from  a  hereditary  point  of  view.  The  heterogeneous 
family  lines  in  a  population  that  has  originated  through 
migration  will  gradually  become  more  homogeneous,  if 
the  descendants  continue  to  reside  in  the  same  spot.  In  our 
cities  and  mixed  farming  communities,  on  account  of 
changes  in  selective  mating,  constant  changes  in  the  heredi- 
tary composition  are  going  on,  even  after  immigration  has 
ceased.  Local  inbreeding  produces  local  types;  avoidance  of 
marriages  between  near  relatives  favors  increasing  likeness 
of  all  the  family  lines  constituting  the  population;  favored 
or  proscribed  cousin  marriages  which  are  customary  among 
many  tribes  establish  separate  family  types  and  increase  in 
this  sense  the  heterogeneity  of  the  population. 

Another  question  presents  itself.  We  have  considered  only 
the  hereditary  stability  of  genetic  lines.  We  must  ask  our- 
selves also  whether  environmental  conditions  exert  an  in- 
fluence over  races. 

It  is  quite  obvious  that  the  forms  of  lower  organisms  arc 
subject  to  environmental  influepces.  Plants  taken  from  low 
altitudes  to  high  mountains  develop  short  stems;  leaves  of 
semi-aquatic  plants  growing  under  water  have  a  form  dif- 
fering from  the  subaerial  leaves.  Cultivated  plants  transform 
their  stamens  into  petals.  Plants  may  be  dwarfed  or  stimu- 
lated in  their  growth  by  appropriate  treatment.  Each  plant 
is  so  organized  that  it  develops  a  certain  form  under  given 
environmental  conditions.  Microorganisms  differ  so  much  in 
different  environmental  settings  that  it  is  often  difficult 
to  establish  their  specific  identity. 

The  question  arises  whether  the  same  kind  of  variability 


RACE    AND    LANGUAGE  123 

occurs  in  higher  organisms.  The  general  impression  is  thai 
their  forms  are  determined  by  heredity,  not  by  environment. 
The  young  of  a  greyhound  is  a  greyhound,  that  of  a  short- 
horn a  shorthorn;  that  of  a  Norway  rat  a  Norway  rat.  The 
child  of  a  European  is  European  in  type,  that  of  a  Chinaman 
of  Mongolic  type,  that  of  an  African  Negro  a  Negro. 

Nevertheless  detailed  study  shows  that  the  form  and  size 
of  the  body  are  not  entirely  shaped  by  heredity.  Records  of 
the  stature  of  European  men  that  date  back  to  the  middle 
of  the  past  century  show  that  in  almost  all  countries  the 
average  statures  have  increased  by  mo-  -  than  an  inch.  It  is 
true,  this  is  not  a  satisfactory  proof  of  an  actual  change,  be- 
cause improvement  in  public  health  has  changed  the  com- 
position of  the  populations,  and  although  it  is  not  likely  that 
this  should  be  the  cause  of  an  increase  in  stature,  it  is  con- 
ceivable. A  better  proof  is  found  in  the  change  of  stature 
among  descendants  of  Europeans  w1  o  settle  in  America. 
In  this  case  it  has  been  shown  that  in  many  nationalities  the 
children  are  taller  than  their  own  parents,  presumably  on 
account  of  more  favorable  conditions  of  life. 

It  has  also  been  observed  that  the  forms  of  Lie  body  are 
influenced  by  occupation.  The  hand  of  a  person  who  has  to 
do  heavy  manual  labor  differs  from  that  of  a  musician  who 
develops  the  independence  of  all  the  muscles  of  his  hand. 
The  proportions  and  form  of  the  limb  are  influenced  by 
habitual  posture  and  use.  The  legs  of  the  oriental  who  squats 
flat  on  the  ground  are  somewhat  modified  by  this  habit. 

Other  modifications  cannot  be  explained  by  better  nutri- 
tion or  by  the  use  of  the  muscles.  Forms  of  the  head  and 
face  arc  not  quite  stable,  but  are  in  some  way  influenced  by 
the  environment  in  which  the  people  live,  so  that  after  a 
migration  into  a  new  environment  the  child  will  not  be 
quite  like  the  parent. 

All  the  observed  changes  are  slight  and  do  not  modify 
the  essential  character  of  the  hereditary  forms.  Still  they  are 
not  negligible.  We  do  not  know  how  great  the  modifications 
may  be  that  ultimately  result  from  such  changes,  nor  have 


124  TIIE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

we  any  evidence  that  the  changes  would  persist  if  the  people 
were  taken  back  to  their  old  environment.  Although  a 
Negro  will  never  become  a  European,  it  is  not  impossible 
that  some  of  the  minor  differences  between  European  popu- 
lations may  be  due  to  environment  rather  than  to  heredity. 

So  far  we  have  discussed  solely  the  anatomical  forms  of 
races  with  a  view  of  gaining  a  clearer  understanding  of 
what  we  mean  by  the  term  race.  It  may  be  well  to  repeat 
the  principal  result  of  our  discussion. 

We  have  found  that  the  term  "racial  heredity"  is  strictly 
applicable  only  when  all  the  individuals  of  a  race  pa  rticipate 
in  certain  anatomical  features.  In  each  race  taken  as  a  whole 
the  family  lines  differ  considerably  in  their  hereditary  traits. 
The  distribution  of  family  lines  is  such  that  a  considerable 
number  of  lines  similar  or  even  identical  in  one  or  many 
respects  occur  in  contiguous  territories.  The  vague  impres- 
sion of  "types,"  abstracted  from  our  everyday  experience, 
does  not  prove  that  these  are  biologically  distinct  races,  and 
the  inference  that  various  populations  are  composed  of  in- 
dividuals belonging  to  various  races  is  subjectively  intelligi- 
ble, objectively  unproved.  It  is  particularly  not  admissible 
to  identify  types  apparently  identical  that  occur  in  popula- 
tions of  different  composition.  Each  individual  can  be  under- 
stood only  as  a  member  of  his  group. 

These  considerations  seem  necessary,  because  they  clear 
up  the  vagueness  of  the  term  "race"  as  usually  applied. 
When  we  speak  of  heredity  we  are  ordinarily  concerned 
with  family  lines,  not  with  races.  The  hereditary  qualities  of 
families  constituting  the  most  homogeneous  populations  dif- 
fer very  much  among  themselves  and  there  is  very  little, 
if  anything,  that  these  family  lines  have  in  common  and 
they  are  not  sharply  set  off  from  neighboring  populations 
that  may  give  a  quite  distinctive  impression. 

The  relation  of  racial  types  may  be  looked  at  in  another 
way.  It  may  be  granted  that  in  closely  related  types  the 
identification  of  an  individual  as  a  member  of  each  type 
cannot  be  made  with  any  degree  of  certainty.  Nevertheless 


RACE    AND    LANGUAGE  125 

the  distribution  of  individuals  and  of  family  lines  in  the 
various  races  differs.  When  we  select  among  the  Europeans 
a  group  with  large  brains,  their  frequency  will  be  relatively 
high,  while  among  the  Negroes  the  frequency  of  occurrence 
of  the  corresponding  group  will  be  low.  If,  for  instance, 
there  are  50  per  cent  of  an  European  population  who  have 
a  brain  weight  of  more  than,  let  us  say,  1,500  grams,  there 
may  be  only  20  per  cent  of  Negroes  of  the  same  class, 
Therefore  30  per  cent  of  the  large-brained  Europeans  can- 
not be  matched  by  any  corresponding  group  of  Negroes. 

It  is  justifiable  to  compare  races  from  this  point  of  view, 
as  long  as  we  avoid  an  application  of  our  results  to  in- 
dividuals. 

On  general  biological  grounds  it  is  important  to  know 
whether  any  one  of  the  human  races  is,  in  regard  to  form 
or  function,  further  removed  from  the  ancestral  animal 
form  than  another,  whether  the  races  can  be  arranged  in 
an  ascending  series.  Although  we  do  not  know  the  ancestral 
form  with  any  degree  of  certainty,  some  of  its  characteristics 
can  be  inferred  by  a  comparison  of  the  anatomical  forms 
of  man  and  of  the  apes.  Single  traits  can  be  brought  into 
ascending  series  in  which  the  racial  forms  differ  more  and 
more  from  animal  forms,  but  the  arrangement  is  a  different 
one  for  each  independent  trait. 

The  ancestral  form  had  a  flat  nose.  Bushmen,  Negroes 
and  Australians  have  flat,  broad  noses.  Mongoloids,  Euro- 
peans and  particularly  Armenians  have  narrow,  prominent 
noses.  They  arc  in  this  sense  farthest  removed  from  the  ani- 
mal forms. 

Apes  have  narrow  lips.  The  lips  of  the  Whites  are  thin, 
those  of  many  Mongoloid  types  are  fuller.  The  Negroes 
have  the  thickest,  most  excessively  "human"  lips. 

The  hair  coat  of  apes  is  moderately  strong.  Among  human 
races  the  Australians,  Europeans  and  a  few  scattered  tribes 
among  other  races  have  the  amplest  body  hairs;  Mongols 
have  the  least. 

Similar  remarks  may  be  made  in  regard  to  the  forms  of 


126  THEMAKINGOFMAN 

the  foot,  of  the  spinal  column,  of  the  proportions  of  the 
limbs.  The  order  of  the  degree  to  which  human  races  differ 
from  animals  is  not  the  same  in  regard  to  these  traits. 

Particular  stress  has  been  laid  on  the  brain,  which  also 
differs  in  various  races.  Setting  aside  the  pygmy  Bushmen 
and  other  very  small  races,  the  negroid  races  have  smaller 
brains  than  the  Mongoloids,  and  these  in  general  smaller 
ones  than  the  Europeans,  although  some  Mongoloid  types, 
like  the  Eskimo,  exceed  in  size  of  the  brain  many  European 
groups. 

The  brain  in  each  race  is  very  variable  in  size  and  the 
"overlapping"  of  individuals  in  the  races  is  marked.  It  is  not 
possible  to  identify  an  individual  as  a  Ne^ro  or  White 
according  to  the  size  and  form  of  the  brain,  but  serially  the 
Negro  brain  is  less  extremely  human  than  that  of  the  White. 

We  are  apt  to  identify  the  size  of  the  brain  with  its  func- 
tioning. This  is  true  to  a  limited  extent  only.  Among  the 
higher  mammals  the  proportionate  size  of  the  brain  is  larger 
in  animals  that  have  greater  intelligence;  but  size  alone  is 
not  an  adequate  criterion.  Complexity  of  structure  is  much 
more  important  than  mere  size.  Some  birds  have  brains 
much  larger  proportionately  than  those  of  the  higher  mam- 
mals without  evidencing  superior  intelligence. 

The  size  of  the  brain  is  measured  by  its  weight  which 
does  not  depend  upon  the  nerve  cells  and  fibers  alone,  but 
includes  a  large  amount  of  material  that  is  not  directly 
relevant  for  the  functioning  of  the  central  nervous  system. 

Superior  intelligence  in  man  is  in  a  way  related  to  size 
of  the  brain.  Microcephalic  individuals  whose  brains  remain 
considerably  under  normal  size  are  mentally  defective,  but 
an  individual  with  an  exceptionally  large  brain  is  not  neces- 
sarily a  genius.  There  are  many  causes  that  affect  the  size 
of  the  brain.  The  larger  the  body,  the  larger  the  brain. 
Therefore  well-nourished  people  who  have  a  larger  bulk  of 
body  than  those  poorly  nourished  have  larger  brains,  not 
because  their  brains  are  structurally  more  highly  developed, 
but  because  the  larger  bulk  is  a  characteristic  feature  of  the 


K  A  C  E    AND    LANGUAGE  127 

~nr:re  bodily  form.  Eminent  people  belong  generally  to  the 
tetter  nourished  class  and  the  cause  of  the  greater  brain  is, 
therefore,  uncertain.  The  variation  in  the  size  of  the  brain 
of  eminent  men  is  also  very  considerable,  some  falling  way 
beneath  the  norm. 

The  real  problem  to  be  solved  is  the  relation  between  the 
structure  of  the  brain  and  its  function.  The  correlation  be- 
tween gross  structure  in  the  races  of  man  and  function  is 
so  slight  that  no  safe  inferences  may  be  drawn  on  the  basis 
of  the  slight  differences  between  races  which  are  of  such 
character  that  up  to  this  time  the  racial  identification  of  a 
brain  is  impossible,  except  in  so  far  as  elongated  and  rounded 
heads,  high  and  low  heads  and  similar  gross  forms  may  be 
distinguished  which  do  not  seem  to  have  any  relation  to 
minute  structure  or  function.  At  least  it  has  never  been 
proved  to  exist  and  it  does  not  seem  likely  that  there  is  any 
kind  of  intimate  relation. 

The  differences  between  races  are  so  small  that  they  lie 
within  the  narrow  range  in  the  limits  of  which  all  forms 
may  function  equally  well.  We  cannot  say  that  the  ratio 
of  inadequate  brains  and  nervous  systems,  that  function 
noticeably  worse  than  the  norm,  is  the  same  in  every  race, 
nor  that  those  of  rare  excellence  are  equally  frequent.  It  it 
not  improbable  that  such  differences  may  exist  in  the  samj 
way  as  we  find  different  ranges  of  adjustability  in  othei 
organs. 

Without  further  proof  the  serial  arrangement  in  brain 
size  cannot  be  identified  with  a  higher  racial  intelligence. 
If  the  anatomical  structure  of  the  brain  is  a  doubtful  in- 
dication of  mental  excellence,  this  is  still  more  the  case 
with  differences  in  other  parts  of  the  body.  So  far  as  we  can 
judge  the  form  of  the  foot  and  the  slight  development  of 
the  calve-  of  the  Negro;  the  prominence  of  his  teeth  and 
the  size  of  his  lips;  the  heaviness  of  the  face  of  the  Mongol; 
or  the  difference  in  degree  of  pigmentation  of  the  races 
Aave  no  relation  to  mentality.  At  least  every  attempt  to 
prove  such  relation  has  failed. 


128  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

In  any  attempt  to  place  the  human  races  u:  *n  evolu- 
tionary series  we  must  also  remember  that  modern  races 
are  not  wild  but  domesticated  forms.  In  regard  to  nutrition 
and  artificial  protection  the  mode  of  life  of  man  is  like  that 
of  domesticated  animals.  The  artificial  modification  of  food 
by  the  use  of  fire  and  the  invention  of  tools  were  the  steps 
that  brought  about  the  self-domestication  of  man.  Both  be- 
long to  a  very  early  period,  to  a  time  before  the  last  ex- 
tensive glaciation  of  Europe.  Man  must  be  considered  the 
oldest  domesticated  form.  The  most  characteristic  features 
of  human  races  bear  evidence  of  this.  The  loss  of  pigmen- 
tation in  the  blond,  blue-eyed  races;  the  blackness  of  the 
hair  of  the  Negro  are  traits  that  do  not  occur  in  any  wild 
mammal  form.  Exceptions  are  the  blackness  of  the  hair 
coat  of  the  black  panther,  of  the  black  bear  and  of  the  sub- 
terranean mole.  The  frizzliness  of  the  Negro  hair  and  the 
curliness  of  the  hair  of  the  other  races,  the  long  hair  of  the 
head  do  not  occur  in  wild  mammals.  The  permanence 
rather  than  periodicity  of  the  sexual  functions  and  of  the 
female  breasts;  the  anomalies  of  sexual  behavior  are  also 
characteristics  of  domesticated  animals.  The  kind  of  domes- 
tication of  man  is  like  that  of  the  animals  raised  by  primitive 
tribes  that  do  not  breed  certain  strains  by  selection.  Never- 
theless, forms  differing  from  the  wild  forms  develop  in 
their  herds. 

Some  of  the  traits  of  man  that  might  be  considered  as 
indicating  a  lower  evolutionary  stage  may  as  well  be  due 
to  domestication.  Reduction  or  unusual  lengthening  of  the 
face  occurs.  The  excessive  reduction  of  the  face  in  some 
White  types  and  the  elongation  of  the  mouth  parts  of  the 
Negro  may  be  due  to  this  cause.  It  may  be  a  secondary 
development  from  an  intermediate  form.  The  brain  of 
domesticated  forms  is  generally  smaller  than  that  of  wild 
iorms.  In  exceptional  cases  it  may  be  larger.  Pygmy  forms 
and  giants  develop  in  domestication.  In  short,  the  ''primitive 
traits"  of  races  are  not  necessarily  indications  of  an  early 


RACE    AND    LANGUAGE  I2O 

arrest.  They  may  be  later  acquisitions  stabilized  in  domes' 
tication. 

All  this,  however,  has  little  to  do  with  the  biologically 
determined  mentality  of  races,  which  is  often  assumed  to 
be  the  basis  of  social  behavior.  Mental  behavior  is  closely 
related  to  the  physiological  functioning  of  the  body  and  the 
problem  may  be  formulated  as  an  investigation  of  the  func- 
tioning of  the  body,  in  the  widest  sense  of  the  term  "func- 
tioning." 

We  have  seen  that  the  description  of  the  anatomical  traits 
of  a  race  in  general  terms  involves  a  faulty  generalization 
based  on  the  impression  made  by  the  majority  of  individuals, 
This  is  no  less  true  in  regard  to  the  functions  of  a  popula- 
tion. Our  characterization  of  the  mentality  of  a  people  is 
merely  a  conceptionalization  of  those  traits  that  are  found 
in  a  large  number  of  individuals  and  that  are,  for  this  rea< 
son,  impressive.  In  another  population  other  traits  impress 
themselves  upon  the  mind  and  are  conceptionalized.  This 
docs  not  prove  that,  if  in  a  third  population  both  types  arc 
found,  it  is  mixed  in  its  functional  behavior.  The  objective 
value  of  generalizations  of  this  type  is  not  self-evident,  be- 
cause they  are  merely  the  result  of  the  subjective  construc- 
tion of  types,  the  wide  variability  of  which  is  disregarded. 

Actually  the  functions  exhibited  by  a  whole  race  can  be 
defined  as  hereditary  even  less  than  its  anatomical  traits, 
because  individually  and  in  family  lines  the  variations  are 
so  great  that  not  all  the  members  of  the  race  react  alike. 

When  the  body  has  completed  its  growth  its  features 
remain  the  same  for  a  considerable  length  of  time, — until 
the  changes  due  to  old  age  set  in.  It  does  not  matter  at  what 
time  we  examine  the  body,  the  results  will  always  be  nearly 
the  same.  Fluctuations  of  weight,  of  the  amount  of  fat,  of 
muscle  do  occur,  but  these  are  comparatively  slight,  and 
under  normal  conditions  of  health,  nutrition  and  exercise 
insignificant  until  senility  sets  in. 

It  is  different  "with  the  functions  of  the  body.  The  heart 
beat  depends  upon  transient  conditions.  In  sleep  it  is  slow; 


130  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

in  waking,  during  meals,  during  exercise  more  rapid.  The 
range  of  the  number  of  heart  beats  for  the  individual  is 
very  wide.  The  condition  of  our  digestive  tract  depends 
upon  the  amount  and  kind  of  food  present;  our  eyes  act 
differently  in  intense  light  and  in  darkness.  The  variation 
in  the  functions  of  an  individual  is  considerable.  Further- 
more, the  individuals  constituting  a  population  do  not  all 
function  in  the  same  way.  Variability,  which  in  regard  to 
anatomical  traits  has  only  one  source,  namely,  the  differences 
between  individuals,  has  in  physiological  functions  an 
added  source}  the  different  behavior  of  the  individual  at 
different  times.  It  is,  therefore,  not  surprising  that  func- 
tionally the  individuals  composing  a  population  exhibit  a 
considerable  variability. 

The  average  values  expressing  the  functioning  of  various 
races  living  under  the  same  conditions  are  not  the  same, 
but  the  differences  are  not  great  as  compared  to  the  varia- 
tions that  occur  in  each  racial  group.  Investigations  of  the 
functioning  of  the  same  sense  organs  of  various  races,  such 
as  Whites,  Indians,  Filipinos  and  people  of  New  Guinea, 
indicate  that  their  sensitiveness  is  very  much  the  same.  The 
popular  belief  in  an  unusual  keenness  of  eyesight  or  hearing 
of  primitive  people  is  not  corroborated  by  careful  observa- 
tions. The  impression  is  due  to  the  training  of  their  power 
of  observation  which  is  directed  to  phenomena  with  which 
we  are  not  familiar.  Differences  have  been  found  in  the 
basal  metabolism  of  Mongols  and  Whites  and  there  are 
probably  differences  in  the  functioning  of  the  digestive  tract 
and  of  the  skin  between  Whites  and  Negroes.  Much  remains 
to  be  done  in  the  study  of  physiological  functions  of  different 
races  before  we  can  determine  the  quantitative  differences 
between  them. 

The  variability  of  many  functions  is  well  known.  We 
referred  before  to  the  heart  beat.  Let  us  imagine  an  in- 
dividual who  lives  in  New  York  and  leads  a  sedentary  life 
without  bodily  exercise.  Transport  this  person  to  the  high 
glateaus  of  the  Bolivian  Andes  where  he  has  to  do  physical 


RACE    AND    LANGUAGE  13! 

work.  He  will  find  difficulties  for  a  while,  but,  if  he  is 
healthy,  he  will  finally  become  adjusted  to  the  new  condi- 
tions.  His  normal  heart  beat,  however,  will  have  changed. 
His  lungs  also  will  act  differently  in  the  rarefied  air.  It  is 
the  same  individual  who  in  the  new  environment  will  ex- 
hibit a  quantitatively  different  functioning  of  the  body. 

We  pointed  out  before  that  environmental  conditions  cause 
in  general  but  slight  modification  of  anatomical  form.  Their 
effect  upon  most  functions  of  the  body  is  intense,  as  is  the 
case  in  lower  organisms  which  are  in  bodily  form  subject 
to  important  modifications  brought  about  by  the  environ- 
ment. The  functions  of  the  organs  are  adjustable  to  different 
requirements.  Every  organ  has — to  use  Dr.  Meltzer's  term — 
a  margin  of  safety.  Within  limits  it  can  function  normally 
according  to  environmental  requirements.  Even  a  partly 
disabled  organ  can  be  sufficient  for  the  needs  of  the  body. 
Inadequacy  develops  only  when  these  limits  are  exceeded. 
There  are  certain  conditions  that  are  most  favorable,  but 
the  loss  of  adequacy  is  very  slight  when  the  conditions 
change  within  the  margins  of  safety. 

In  most  cases  of  the  kind  here  referred  to  the  environ- 
mental influence  acts  upon  different  individuals  in  the  same 
direction.  If  we  bring  two  organically  different  individual? 
into  the  same  environment  they  may,  therefore,  become 
alike  in  their  functional  responses  and  we  may  gain  the 
impression  of  a  functional  likeness  of  distinct  anatomical 
forms  that  is  due  to  environment,  not  to  their  internal  struc- 
ture. Only  in  those  cases  in  which  the  environment  acts 
with  different  intensity  or  perhaps  even  in  different  direc- 
tions upon  the  organism  may  we  expect  increased  unlike- 
ness  under  the  same  environmental  conditions.  When,  for 
instance,  for  one  individual  the  margin  of  safety  is  so  narrow 
that  the  environmental  conditions  are  excessive,  for  another 
one  so  wide  that  adequate  adjustment  is  possible,  the  forme? 
will  become  sick,  while  the  other  will  remain  healthy. 

What  is  true  of  the  physiological  functioning  of  the  bod\ 
is  still  more  true  of  mental  reactions.  A  simple  example  may 


132  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

illustrate  this.  When  we  are  asked  to  react  to  a  stimulus, 
for  instance  by  tapping  in  response  to  a  signal  given  by  a 
bell,  we  can  establish  a  certain  basal  or  minimum  time  in- 
terval between  signal  and  tapping  which  is  found  when 
we  are  rested  and  concentrate  our  attention  upon  the  signal. 
As  soon  as  we  are  tired  and  when  our  attention  is  distracted 
the  time  increases.  We  may  even  become  so  much  absorbed 
in  other  matters  that  the  signal  will  go  unnoticed.  Environ- 
mental conditions  determine  the  reaction  time.  The  basal 
time  for  two  individuals  may  differ  quite  considerably,  still 
under  varying  environmental  conditions  they  will  react  in 
the  same  way.  If  the  conditions  of  life  compel  the  one  to 
concentrate  his  attention  while  the  other  has  never  been  re- 
quired to  do  so,  they  may  react  in  the  same  way,  although 
structurally  they  represent  different  types. 

In  more  complex  mental  and  social  phenomena  this  ad- 
justment of  different  types  to  a  common  standard  is  of  fre- 
quent occurrence.  The  pronunciation  of  individuals  in  a 
small  community  is  so  uniform  that  an  expert  ear  can  iden- 
tify the  home  of  a  person  by  his  articulation.  Anatomically 
the  forms  of  the  mouth,  inner  nose  and  larynx  of  all  the 
individuals  participating  in  this  pronunciation  vary  con- 
siderably. The  mouth  may  be  large  or  small,  the  tongue 
thin  or  thick,  the  palate  arched  or  flat.  There  are  differences 
in  the  pitch  of  the  voice  and  in  timbre.  Still  the  dialect  will 
be  the  same  for  all.  The  articulation  does  not  depend  to  any 
considerable  extent  upon  the  form  of  the  mouth,  but  upon 
its  use. 

In  all  our  everyday  habits  imitation  of  habits  of  the  society 
to  which  we  belong  exerts  its  influence  over  the  functioning 
of  our  minds  and  bodies  and  a  degree  of  uniformity  of 
thought  and  action  is  brought  about  among  individuals  who 
differ  considerably  in  structure. 

It  would  not  be  justifiable  to  claim  that  bodily  form  has 
no  relation  whatever  to  physiological  or  mental  functioning. 
I  do  not  believe  that  Watson  is  right  when  he  claims  that 
"he  whole  mental  activities  of  man  are  due  to  his  individual 


11ACE    AND    LANGUAGE  13? 

experiences  and  that  what  is  called  character  or  ability  is 
due  to  outer  conditions,  not  to  organic  structure.  It  seems 
to  me  that  this  goes  counter  to  the  observation  of  mental 
activities  in  the  animal  world  as  well  as  among  men.  The 
mental  activities  of  a  family  of  idiots  will  not,  even  under 
the  most  favorable  conditions,  equal  those  of  a  highly  in- 
telligent family,  and  what  is  true  in  this  extreme  case  must 
be  true  also  when  the  differences  are  less  pronounced.  Al- 
though it  is  never  possible  to  eliminate  environmental  in- 
fluences that  bring  about  similarity  or  dissimilarity,  it  seems 
unreasonable  to  assume  that  in  the  mental  domain 
organically  determined  sameness  of  all  individuals  should 
exist  while  in  all  other  traits  we  do  find  differences;  but  we 
must  admit  that  the  organic  differences  are  liable  to  be  over* 
laid  and  overshadowed  by  environmental  influences. 

Under  these  conditions  it  is  well-nigh  impossible  to  de- 
termine with  certainty  the  hereditary  traits  in  mental  be- 
havior. In  a  well-integrated  society  we  find  people  of  most 
diverse  descent  who  all  react  so  much  in  the  same  way  thai 
it  is  impossible  to  tell  from  their  reactions  alone  to  what 
race  they  belong.  Individual  differences  and  those  belonging 
to  family  lines  occur  in  such  a  society,  but  among  healthy 
individuals  these  are  so  slightly  correlated  to  bodily  form 
that  an  identification  of  an  individual  on  the  basis  of  his 
functions  as  belonging  to  a  family  or  race  of  definite  heredi- 
tary functional  qualities  is  also  impossible. 

In  this  case,  even  more  than  in  that  of  anatomical  form, 
the  range  of  variation  of  hereditary  lines  constituting  a 
"race"  is  so  wide  that  the  same  types  of  lines  may  be  found 
in  different  races.  While  so  far  as  anatomical  form  is  con- 
cerned Negroes  and  Whites  have  racially  hereditary  traits, 
this  is  not  true  of  function.  The  mental  life  of  each  of  the 
individuals  constituting  these  races  is  so  varied  that  from 
its  expression  alone  an  individual  cannot  be  assigned  to  the 
one  or  the  other.  It  is  true  that  in  regard  to  a  few  races, 
like  the  Bushmen  of  South  Africa,  we  have  no  evidence 
in  regard  to  this  point,  and  we  may  suspend  judgment,  al- 


134  THE    MAKING    OF 

though  I  do  not  anticipate  that  any  fundamental  difference^ 
will  be  found. 

So  far  as  our  experience  goes  we  may  safely  say  that  in 
any  given  race  the  differences  between  family  lines  are  much 
greater  than  the  differences  between  races.  It  may  happen 
that  members  of  one  family  line,  extreme  in  form  and  func- 
tion, are  quite  different  from  those  of  a  family  line  of  the 
opposite  extreme,  although  both  belong  to  the  same  race; 
while  it  may  be  very  difficult  to  find  individuals  or  family 
lines  in  one  racial  type  that  may  not  be  duplicated  in  a 
neighboring  type. 

The  assumption  of  fundamental,  hereditary  mental  char- 
acteristics of  races  is  often  based  on  an  analogy  with  the 
mental  traits  of  races  of  domesticated  animals.  Certainly 
the  mentality  of  the  poodle  dog  is  quite  different  from 
that  of  the  bulldog,  or  that  of  a  race  horse  from  that  of  a 
dray  horse. 

This  analogy  is  not  well  founded,  because  the  races  of 
domesticated  animals  are  comparable  to  family  lines,  not 
to  human  races.  They  are  developed  by  carefully  controlled 
inbreeding.  Their  family  lines  are  uniform,  those  of  man 
diverse.  They  are  parallel  to  the  family  lines  that  occur  in 
all  human  races,  which,  however,  do  not  become  stabilized 
on  account  of  the  lack  of  rigid  inbreeding.  In  this  respect 
human  races  must  be  compared  to  wild  animals,  not  to 
selected,  domesticated  breeds. 

All  these  considerations  are  apparently  contradicted  by 
the  results  of  so-called  intelligence  tests  which  are  intended 
to  determine  innate  intellectuality.  Actually  these  tests  show 
considerable  differences  not  only  between  individuals  but 
also  between  racial  and  social  groups.  The  test  is  an  ex- 
pression of  mental  function.  Like  other  functions  the  re- 
sponses to  mental  tests  show  overlapping  of  individuals 
belonging  to  different  groups  and  ordinarily  it  is  not  pos- 
sible to  assign  an  individual  to  his  proper  group  according  to 
his  response. 

The  test  itself  shows  only  that  a  task  set  to  a  person  can 


RACE    AND    LANGUAGE  135 

>e  performed  by  him  more  or  less  satisfactorily.  That  the 
result  is  solely  or  primarily  a  result  of  organically  determined 
intelligence  is  an  assumption  that  has  to  be  proved.  De- 
fective individuals  cannot  perform  certain  acts  required  in 
the  tests.  Within  narrower  limits  of  performance  we  must 
ask  in  how  far  the  structure  of  the  organism,  in  how  far 
outer,  environmental  conditions  may  determine  the  result 
of  the  test.  Since  all  functions  are  strongly  influenced  by 
environment  it  is  likely  that  here  also  environmental  in- 
fluences may  prevail  and  obscure  the  structurally  determined 
part  of  the  reaction. 

Let  us  illustrate  this  by  an  example.  One  of  the  simplest 
tests  consists  in  the  task  of  fitting  blocks  of  various  forms 
into  holes  of  corresponding  forms.  There  are  primitive  peo- 
ple who  devote  much  time  to  decorative  work  in  which 
fitting  of  forms  plays  an  important  part.  It  may  be  applique 
work,  mosaic,  or  stencil  work.  Others  have  no  experience 
whatever  in  the  use  of  forms.  We  have  no  observations  on 
these  people,  but  it  seems  more  than  likely  that  those  who 
are  accustomed  to  handling  varied  forms  and  to  recognize 
them,  will  respond  to  the  test  with  much  greater  ease  than 
those  who  have  no  such  experience. 

Dr.  Klineberg  has  investigated  the  reactions  to  simple 
tests  of  various  races  living  under  very  different  conditions. 
He  found  that  all  races  investigated  by  him  respond  under 
city  conditions  quickly  and  inaccurately,  that  the  same  races 
in  remote  country  districts  react  slowly  and  more  accurately. 
The  hurry  and  pressure  for  efficiency  of  city  life  result  in 
a  different  attitude  that  has  nothing  to  do  with  innate  in- 
telligence, but  is  an  effect  of  a  cultural  condition. 

An  experiment  made  in  Germany,  but  based  on  entirely 
different  sets  of  tests,  has  had  a  similar  result.  Children  be- 
longing to  different  types  of  schools  were  tested.  The  social 
groups  attending  elementary  schools  and  higher  schools  of 
various  types  differ  in  their  cultural  attitudes.  It  is  unlikely 
that  they  belong  by  descent  to  different  racial  groups.  Oh 
the  contrary,  the  population  as  a  whole  is  -uniform.  The 


136  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

responses  in  various  schools  were  quite  different.  There  It 
no  particular  reason  why  we  should  assume  a  difference 
in  organic  structure  between  the  groups  and  it  seems  more 
likely  that  we  are  dealing  with  the  effects  of  cultural  dif- 
ferentiation. 

In  all  tests  based  on  language  the  effect  of  the  linguistic 
experience  of  the  subject  plays  an  important  part.  Our  whole 
sense  experience  is  classified  according  to  linguistic  prin- 
ciples and  our  thought  is  deeply  influenced  by  the  classifi- 
cation of  our  experience.  Often  the  scope  of  a  concept 
expressed  by  a  word  determines  the  current  of  our  thought 
and  the  categories  which  the  grammatical  form  of  the 
language  compels  us  to  express  keep  certain  types  of 
modality  or  connection  before  our  minds.  When  langua^ 
compels  me  to  differentiate  sharply  between  elder  a*vJ 
younger  brother,  between  father's  brother  and  mother's 
brother,  directions  of  thought  that  our  vaguer  terms  permit 
will  be  excluded.  When  the  terms  for  son  and  brother's 
son  are  not  distinguished  the  flow  of  thought  may  run  in 
currents  unexpected  to  us  who  differentiate  clearly  between 
these  terms.  When  a  language  states  clearly  in  every  case 
the  forms  of  objects,  as  round,  long  or  flat;  or  the  instru- 
mentality with  which  an  action  is  done,  as  with  the  hand, 
with  a  knife,  with  a  point;  or  the  source  of  knowledge  of 
a  statement,  as  observed,  known  by  evidence  or  by  hearsay, 
these  forms  may  establish  lines  of  association.  Comparison 
of  reactions  of  individuals  that  speak  fundamentally  distinct 
languages  may,  therefore,  express  the  influence  of  language 
upon  the  current  of  thought,  not  any  innate  difference  in 
the  form  of  thought. 

All  these  considerations  cause  us  to  doubt  whether  it  is 
possible  to  differentiate  between  environmental  and  organic 
determination  of  responses,  as  soon  as  the  environment  of 
two  individuals  is  different. 

It  is  exceedingly  difficult  to  secure  an  identical  environ- 
ment even  in  our  own  culture.  Every  home,  every  street, 
every  family  group  and  school  has  its  own  character  which 


RACE    AND    LANGUAGE  137 

!s  difficult  to  evaluate.  In  large  masses  of  individuals  we  may 
assume  a  somewhat  equal  environmental  setting  for  a  group 
in  similar  economic  and  social  position,  and  it  is  justifiable 
to  assume  in  this  case  that  the  variability  of  environmental 
influence  is  much  restricted  ai«*i  that  organically  determined 
differences  between  individuals  appear  more  clearly. 

Just  as  soon  as  we  compare  different  social  groups  the 
relative  uniformity  of  social  background  disappears  and, 
if  we  are  dealing  with  populations  of  the  same  descent,  there 
is  a  strong  probability  that  differences  in  the  type  of  re- 
sponse are  primarily  due  to  the  effect  of  environment  rather 
than  to  organic  differences  between  the  groups. 

The  responses  to  tests  may  be  based  on  recognition  of 
sensory  impressions,  on  motor  experience,  such  as  the  results 
of  complex  movements;  or  on  the  use  of  acquired  knowl- 
edge. All  of  these  contain  experience.  A  city  boy  who  has 
been  brought  up  by  reading,  familiar  with  the  conveniences 
of  city  life,  accustomed  to  the  rush  of  traffic  and  the  watch- 
fulness demanded  on  the  streets  has  a  general  setting  entirely 
different  from  that  of  a  boy  brought  up  on  a  lonely  farm, 
who  has  had  no  contact  with  the  machinery  of  modern  city 
life.  His  sense  experience,  motor  habits  and  the  currents  of 
his  thoughts  differ  from  those  of  the  city  boy. 

Certainly  in  none  of  the  tests  that  have  ever  been  applied 
is  individual  experience  eliminated  and  I  doubt  that  it  can 
be  done. 

We  must  remember  how  we  acquire  the  manner  of  acting 
and  thinking.  From  our  earliest  days  we  imitate  the  be- 
havior of  our  environment  and  our  behavior  in  later  years 
is  determined  by  what  we  learn  as  infants  and  children. 
The  responses  to  any  stimulus  depend  upon  these  early 
habits.  Individually  it  may  be  influenced  by  organic,  heredi- 
tary conditions.  In  the  large  mass  of  a  population  these 
vary.  In  a  homogeneous  social  group  the  experience  gained 
in  childhood  is  fairly  uniform,  so  that  its  influence  will  bo 
more  marked  than  that  of  organic  structure. 

The  dilemma  of  the  investigator  appears  clearly  in  the 


138  THE    MAKING    OF    M  \N 

results  or  mental  tests  taken  on  Negroes  of  Louisiana  and 
Chicago.  During  the  World  War  the  enlist^/  men  belong- 
ing to  the  two  groups  were  tested  and  showed  quite  distinct 
responses.  There  is  no  very  great  differencr  «"n  the  pigmenta- 
tion of  the  two  groups.  Both  are  largely  .nulattoes.  The 
Northern  Negroes  passed  the  tests  much  more  successfully 
than  those  from  the  South.  Chicago  Negroes  are  accustomed 
to  city  surroundings.  They  work  with  Whites  and  are  ac- 
customed to  a  certain  degree  of  equality,  owing  to  similarity 
of  occupation  and  constant  contact.  All  these  are  lacking 
among  the  Louisiana  rural  Negroes  It  is  gratuitous  to 
claim  that  a  more  energetic  and  intelligent  group  of  Negroes 
has  migrated  to  the  city  and  that  the  weak  and  unintelligent 
stay  behind,  and  to  disregard  the  effect  of  social  environ- 
ment. We  know  that  the  environment  is  distinct  and  that 
human  behavior  is  strikingly  modified  by  it.  We  do  not 
know  that  selection  plays  an  important  part  in  the  migra- 
tion of  the  Southern  Negro  to  Northern  cities.  It  is  quits 
arbitrary  to  ascribe  the  difference  in  mental  behavior  solely 
to  the  latter,  doubtful  cause  and  to  disregard  the  former 
entirely.  Those  who  claim  that  there  is  an  organic  difference 
must  prove  it  by  showing  the  difference  between  the  two 
groups  before  their  migration. 

Even  if  it  were  true  that  selection  accounts  for  the  dif- 
ferences in  the  responses  to  tests  among  these  two  groups, 
it  would  not  have  any  bearing  upon  the  problem  of  racial 
characteristics,  for  we  should  have  here  merely  a  selection 
of  better  endowed  individuals  or  family  lines,  all  belonging 
to  the  same  race,  a  condition  similar  to  the  often  quoted, 
but  never  proved,  result  of  the  emigration  from  New  Eng- 
land to  the  West.  The  question  would  still  remain,  whether 
there  is  any  difference  in  racial  composition  in  the  two 
groups.  So  far  as  we  know  the  amount  of  Negro  and  White 
blood  in  the  two  groups  is  about  the  same. 

Other  tests  intended  to  investigate  differences  between  the 
mental  reactions  of  Negroes,  Mulattoes,  and  Whites  due  to 
the  racial  composition  of  the  groups  are  not  convincing, 


RACE    AND    LANGUAGE  139 

because  due  caution  has  not  been  taken  to  insure  an  equal 
social  background.  The  study  of  mental  achievement  of 
a  socially  uniform  group  undertaken  by  Dr.  Herskovit* 
does  not  show  any  relation  between  the  intensity  of  negroid 
features  and  mental  attainment.  Up  to  this  time  none  of 
the  mental  tests  gives  us  any  insight  into  significant  racial 
differences  that  might  not  be  adequately  explained  by  the 
effect  of  social  experience.  Even  Dr.  Woodworth's  observa- 
tions on  the  Filipino  pygmies  are  not  convincing,  because 
the  cultural  background  of  the  groups  tested  is  unknown 

A  critical  examination  of  all  studies  of  this  type  in  which 
differences  between  racial  groups  in  regard  to  mental  reac- 
tions are  demonstrated,  leaves  us  in  doubt  whether  the 
determining  factor  is  cultural  experience  or  racial  descent. 
We  must  emphasize  again  that  differences  between  selected 
groups  of  the  same  descent,  such  as  between  poor  orphan 
children  often  of  defective  parentage,  and  of  normal  chil- 
dren; and  those  between  unselected  groups  of  individuals 
representing  various  races  are  phenomena  quite  distinct 
in  character.  In  the  former  case  the  results  of  tests  may 
express  differences  in  family  lines.  Similar  peculiarities 
might  be  found,  although  with  much  greater  difficulty, 
when  comparing  small  inbred  communities,  for  inbred  com- 
munities are  liable  to  differ  in  social  behavior.  For  large 
racial  groups  acceptable  proof  of  marked  mental  differences 
due  to  organic,  not  social,  causes  has  never  been  given. 

Students  of  ethnology  have  always  been  so  much  im- 
pressed by  the  general  similarity  of  fundamental  traits  of 
human  culture  that  they  have  never  found  it  necessary  to 
take  into  account  the  racial  descent  of  a  people  when  dis- 
cussing its  culture.  This  is  true  of  all  schools  of  modern 
ethnology.  Edward  B.  Tylor  and  Herbert  Spencer  in  their 
studies  of  the  evolution  of  culture,  Adolf  Bastian  in  his 
insistence  on  the  sameness  of  the  fundamental  forms  of 
thought  among  all  races,  Friedrich  Ratzel,  who  followed 
the  historical  dissemination  of  cultural  forms — they  all  have 
carried  on  their  work  without  any  regard  to  race.  The 


140  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

general  experience  of  ethnology  indicates  that  whatever  dif- 
ferences there  may  be  between  the  great  races  are  insig- 
nificant when  considered  in  their  effect  upon  cultural  life. 

It  does  not  matter  from  which  point  of  view  we  consider 
culture,  its  forms  are  not  dependent  upon  race.  In  economic 
life  and  in  regard  to  the  extent  of  their  inventions  the 
Eskimos,  the  Bushmen  and  the  Australians  may  well  be 
compared.  The  position  of  the  Magdalenian  race,  which 
lived  at  the  end  of  the  ice  age,  is  quite  similar  to  that  of 
the  Eskimo.  On  the  other  hand,  the  complexities  of  inven- 
tions and  of  economic  life  of  the  Negroes  of  the  Sudan, 
of  the  ancient  Pueblos,  of  our  early  European  ancestors  who 
used  stone  tools,  and  of  the  early  Chinese  are  comparable. 

In  the  study  of  material  culture  we  are  constantly  com- 
pelled to  compare  similar  inventions  used  by  people  of  the 
most  diverse  descent.  Devices  for  throwing  spears  from 
Australia  and  America;  armor  from  the  Pacific  Islands  and 
America;  games  of  Africa  and  Asia;  blowguns  of  Malaysia 
and  South  America;  decorative  designs  from  almost  every 
continent;  musical  instruments  from  Asia,  the  Pacific 
islands  and  America;  head  rests  from  Africa  and  Melanesia; 
the  beginning  of  the  art  of  writing  in  America  and  in  the 
Old  World;  the  use  of  the  zero  in  America,  Asia  and 
Europe;  the  use  of  bronze,  of  methods  of  firemaking,  from 
all  parts  of  the  world  cannot  be  studied  on  the  basis  of  their 
distribution  by  races,  but  only  by  their  geographical  and 
historical  distribution,  or  as  independent  achievements,  with- 
out any  reference  to  the  bodily  forms  of  the  races  using 
these  inventions. 

Other  aspects  of  cultural  life  are  perhaps  still  more  im- 
pressive, because  they  characterize  the  general  cultural  life 
more  deeply  than  inventions:  the  use  of  standards  of  value 
in  Africa,  America,  Asia,  Europe  and  on  the  islands  of  the 
Pacific  Ocean;  analogous  types  of  family  organization,  such 
as  small  families,  or  extended  sibs  with  maternal  or  paternal 
succession;  totemic  ideas;  avoidance  of  close  relatives;  the 
exclusion  of  women  from  sacred  ceremonials;  the  forma- 


RACE    AND    LANGUAGE  141 

tion  of  age  societies;  all  these  are  found  in  fundamentally 
similar  forms  among  all  races.  In  their  study  we  are  com- 
pelled to  disregard  the  racial  position  of  the  people  we 
study,  for  similarities  and  dissimilarities  have  no  relation 
whatever  to  racial  types. 

It  does  not  matter  how  the  similar  traits  in  diverse  races 
may  have  originated,  by  diffusion  or  independent  origin. 
They  convince  us  of  the  independence  of  race  and  culture 
because  their  distribution  does  not  follow  racial  lines. 


1ANGUAGE,  RACE,  AND  CULTURE* 

By  EDWARD  SAPIR 

LANGUAGE  has  a  setting.  The  people  that  speak  it  belong  to 
*t  race  (or  a  number  of  races),  that  is,  to  a  group  which  is 
set  off  by  physical  characteristics  from  other  groups.  Again, 
language  does  not  exist  apart  from  culture,  that  is,  from  the 
socially  inherited  assemblage  of  practices  and  beliefs  that 
determines  the  texture  of  our  lives.  Anthropologists  have 
been  in  the  habit  of  studying  man  under  the  three  rubrics 
of  race,  language,  and  culture.  One  of  the  first  things  they 
do  with  a  natural  area  like  Africa  or  the  South  Seas  is  to 
map  it  out  from  this  threefold  point  of  view.  These  maps 
answer  the  questions:  What  and  where  ire  the  major  divi- 
sions of  the  human  animal,  biologically  considered  (e.g., 
Congo  Negro,  Egyptian  White;  Australian  Black,  Poly- 
nesian) ?  What  are  the  most  inclusive  linguistic  groupings 
the  "linguistic  stocks,"  and  what  is  the  distribution  of  each 
(e.g.,  the  Hamitic  language  of  northern  Africa,  the  Bantu 
languages  of  the  south;  the  Malayo-Polynesian  languages  of 
Indonesia,  Melanesia,  Micronesia,  and  Polynesia)  ?  How  do 
the  peoples  of  the  given  area  divide  themselves  as  cultural 
beings?  what  are  the  outstanding  "cultural  areas"  and  what 
are  the  dominant  ideas  in  each  (e.g.,  the  Mohammedan 
north  of  Africa;  the  primitive  hunting,  non-agricultural  cul- 
ture of  the  Bushmen  in  the  south;  the  culture  of  the  Aus- 
tralian natives,  poor  in  physical  respects  but  richly  developed 
in  ceremonialism;  the  more  advanced  and  highly  specialized 
culture  of  Polynesia)  ? 

The  man  in  the  street  does  not  stop  to  analyze  his  position 
in  the  general  scheme  of  humanity.  He  feels  that  he  is  the 

*  Language.  New  York:  Harcourt,  Brace  &  Co. 

142 


RACE    AND    LANGUAGE  143 

representative  of  some  strongly  integrated  portion  of  hu- 
manity-—now  thought  of  as  a  "nationality,"  now  as  a  "race" 
— and  that  everything  that  pertains  to  him  as  a  typical 
representative  of  this  large  group  somehow  belongs  together. 
If  he  is  an  Englishman,  he  feels  himself  to  be  a  member  of 
the  "Anglo-Saxon"  race,  the  "genius"  of  which  race  has 
fashioned  the  English  language  and  the  "Anglo-Saxon" 
culture  of  which  the  language  is  the  expression.  Science  is 
colder.  It  inquires  if  these  three  types  of  classification — 
racial,  linguistic,  and  cultural — arc  congruent,  if  their  as- 
sociation is  an  inherently  necessary  one  or  is  merely  a  master 
of  external  history.  The  answer  to  toe  inquiry  is  not  en- 
couraging to  "race"  sentimentalists.  Historians  and  anthro- 
pologists find  that  races,  languages,  and  cultures  are  not 
distributed  in  parallel  fashion,  that  their  areas  of  distribu- 
tion intercross  in  the  most  bewildering  fashion,  and  that  the 
history  of  each  is  apt  to  follow  a  distinctive  course.  Races 
intermingle  in  a  way  that  languages  do  not.  On  the  other 
hand,  languages  may  spread  far  beyond  their  original  home, 
invading  the  territory  of  new  races  and  of  new  culture 
spheres.  A  language  may  even  die  out  in  its  primary  area 
and  live  on  among  peoples  violently  hostile  to  the  persons 
of  its  original  speakers.  Further,  the  accidents  of  history  arc 
constantly  rearranging  the  borders  of  culture  areas  without 
necessarily  effacing  the  existing  linguistic  cleavages.  If  wd 
can  once  thoroughly  convince  ourselves  that  race,  in  its  only 
intelligible,  that  is,  biological,  sense,  is  supremely  indif* 
ferent  to  the  history  of  languages  and  cultures,  that  these 
are  no  more  directly  explainable  on  the  score  of  race  than 
on  that  of  the  laws  of  physics  and  chemistry,  we  shall  have 
gained  a  viewpoint  that  allows  a  certain  interest  to  such  mys- 
tic slogans  as  Slavophilism,  Anglo-Saxondom,  Teutonism, 
and  the  Latin  genius  but  that  quite  refuses  to  be  taken  in  by 
any  of  them.  A  careful  study  of  linguistic  distributions  and 
of  the  history  of  such  distributions  is  one  of  the  driest  ol 
commentaries  on  these  sentimental  creeds. 
That  a  group  of  languages  need  not  in  the  least  cor 


144  THEMAKINGOFMAN 

respond  to  a  racial  group  or  a  culture  area  is  easily 
demonstrated.  We  may  even  show  how  a  single  language  ifr 
tercrosses  with  race  and  culture  lines.  The  English  language 
is  not  spoken  by  a  unified  race.  In  the  United  States  there  are 
several  millions  of  Negroes  who  know  no  other  language. 
It  is  their  mother-tongue,  the  formal  vesture  of  their  inmost 
thoughts  and  sentiments.  It  is  as  much  their  property,  as  in- 
alienably "theirs,"  as  the  King  of  England's.  Nor  do  the 
English-speaking  whites  of  America  constitute  a  definite 
race  except  by  way  of  contrast  to  the  Negroes.  Of  the  three 
fundamental  white  races  in  Europe  generally  recognized 
by  physical  anthropologists — the  Baltic  or  North  European, 
tke  Alpine,  and  the  Mediterranean — each  has  numerous 
English-speaking  representatives  in  America.  But  does  not 
the  historical  core  of  English-speaking  peoples,  those  rela- 
tively "unmixed"  populations  that  still  reside  in  England 
and  its  colonies,  represent  a  race,  pure  and  single?  I  can- 
not see  that  the  evidence  points  that  way.  The  English  people 
ire  an  amalgam  of  many  distinct  strains.  Besides  the  old 
"Anglo-Saxon,"  in  other  words  North  German,  element 
which  is  conventionally  represented  as  the  basic  strain,  the 
English  blood  comprises  Norman  French,1  Scandinavian, 
"Celtic,"2  and  pre-Celtic  elements.  If  by  "English"  we 
mean  also  Scotch  and  Irish,8  then  the  term  "Celtic"  is  loosely 
used  for  at  least  two  quite  distinct  racial  elements — the 
short,  dark-complexioned  type  of  Wales  and  the  taller, 
lighter,  often  ruddy-haired  type  of  the  Highlands  and  parts 
cf  Ireland.  Even  if  we  confine  ourselves  to  the  Saxon  ele- 
ment, which,  needless  to  say,  nowhere  appears  "pure,"  we 
are  not  at  the  end  of  our  troubles.  We  may  roughly  identify 
this  strain  with  the  racial  type  now  predominant  in  southern 
Denmark  and  adjoining  parts  of  northern  Germany.  If 
so,  we  must  content  ourselves  with  the  reflection  that  while 
the  English  language  is  historically  most  closely  affiliated 
with  Frisian,  in  second  degree  with  the  other  West  Germanic 
dialects  (Low  Saxon  or  "Plattdeutsch,"  Dutch,  High  Ger- 
man), only  in  third  degree  with  Scandinavian,  the  specific 


RACE    AND    LANGUAGE  145 

"Saxon"  racial  type  that  overran  England  in  the  fifth  and 
sixth  centuries  was  largely  the  same  as  that  now  represented 
by  the  Danes,  who  speak  a  Scandinavian  language,  while  the 
High  German-speaking  population  of  central  and  southern 
Germany 4  is  markedly  distinct. 

But  what  if  we  ignore  these  finer  distinctions  and  simply 
assume  that  the  "Teutonic"  or  Baltic  or  North  European 
racial  type  coincided  in  its  distribution  with  that  of  the 
Germanic  languages?  Are  we  not  on  safe  ground  then? 
No,  we  are  now  in  hotter  water  than  ever.  First  of  all,  the 
mass  of  the  German-speaking  population  (central  and 
southern  Germany,  German  Switzerland,  German  Austria) 
do  not  belong  to  the  tall,  blond-haired,  long-headed 5  "Teu- 
tonic" race  at  all,  but  to  the  shorter,  darker-complexioned. 
short-headed 6  Alpine  race,  of  which  the  central  population 
of  France,  the  French  Swiss,  and  many  of  the  western  and 
northern  Slavs  (e.g.,  Bohemians  and  Poles)  are  equally  good 
representatives.  The  distribution  of  these  "Alpine"  popula- 
tions corresponds  in  part  to  that  of  the  old  continental 
"Celts,"  whose  language  has  everywhere  given  way  to 
Italic,  Germanic,  and  Slavic  pressure.  We  shall  do  well 
to  avoid  speaking  of  a  "Celtic  race,"  but  if  we  were  driven  to 
give  the  term  a  content,  it  would  probably  be  more  appro- 
priate to  apply  it  to,  roughly,  the  western  portion  of  the 
Alpine  peoples  than  to  the  two  island  types  that  I  referred 
to  before.  These  latter  were  certainly  "Celticized,"  in  speech 
and,  partly,  in  blood,  precisely  as,  centuries  later,  most  of 
England  and  part  of  Scotland  was  "Teutonized"  by  the 
Angles  and  Saxons.  Linguistically  speaking,  the  "Celts"  of 
to-day  (Irish  Gaelic,  Manx,  Scotch  Gaelic,  Welsh,  Breton) 
are  Celtic  and  most  of  the  Germans  of  to-day  are  Germanic 
precisely  as  the  American  Negro,  Americanized  Jew,  Min- 
nesota Swede,  and  German-American  are  ^'English."  But, 
secondly,  the  Baltic  race  was,  and  is,  by  no  means  an  exclu- 
sively Germanic-speaking  people.  The  northernmost  "Celtc," 
such  as  the  Highland  Scotch,  are  in  all  probability  a  spe- 
cialized offshoot  of  this  race.  What  these  people  spoke  before 


146  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

they  were  Celticized  nobody  knows,  but  there  is  nothing 
whatever  to  indicate  that  they  spoke  a  Germanic  language. 
Their  language  may  quite  well  have  been  as  remote  from 
any  known  Indo-European  idiom  as  are  Basque  and  Turkish 
to-day.  Again,  to  the  east  of  the  Scandinavians  are  non- 
Germanic  members  of  the  race — the  Finns  and  related  peo- 
ples, speaking  languages  that  are  not  definitely  known  to  be 
related  to  Indo-European  at  all. 

We  cannot  stop  here.  The  geographical  position  of  the 
Germanic  languages  is  such 7  as  to  make  it  highly  probable 
that  they  represent  but  an  outlying  transfer  of  an  Indo- 
European  dialect  (possibly  a  Celto-Italic  prototype)  to  a 
Baltic  people  speaking  a  language  or  a  group  of  languages 
that  was  alien  to  Indo-European.8  Not  only,  then,  is  English 
not  spoken  by  a  unified  race  at  present  but  its  prototype, 
more  likelv  than  not,  was  originally  a  foreign  language  to 
the  race  with  which  English  is  more  particularly  associated. 
We  need  not  seriously  entertain  the  idea  that  English  or  the 
group  of  languages  to  which  it  belongs  is  in  any  intelligible 
sense  the  expression  of  race,  that  there  are  embedded  in  it 
qualities  that  reflect  the  temperament  or  "genius"  of  a  par- 
ticular breed  of  human  beings. 

Many  other,  and  more  striking,  examples  of  the  lack  of 
correspondence  between  race  and  language  could  be  given 
if  space  permitted.  One  instance  will  do  for  many.  The 
Malayo-Polynesian  languages  form  a  well-defined  group 
that  takes  in  the  southern  end  of  the  Malay  Peninsula  and 
the  tremendous  island  world  to  the  south  and  east  (except 
Australia  and  the  greater  part  of  New  Guinea).  In  this  vast 
region  we  find  represented  no  less  than  three  distinct  races 
— the  Negro-like  Papuans  of  New  Guinea' and  Melanesia^ 
the  Malay  race  of  Indonesia,  and  the  Polynesians  of  the  outei 
islands.  The  Polynesians  and  Malays  all  speak  languages 
of  the  Malayo-Polynesian  group,  while  the  languages  of 
the  Papuans  belong  partly  to  this  group  (Melanesian),  partly 
to  the  unrelated  languages  ("Papuan")  of  New  Guinea.* 
In  spite  of  the  fact  that  the  greatest  race  cleavage  in  thb 


RACE    AND    LANGUAGE  147 

region  lies  between  the  Papuans  and  the  Polynesians,  the 
major  linguistic  division  is  of  Malayan  on  the  one  side, 
Melanesian  and  Polynesian  on  the  other. 

As  with  race,  so  with  culture.  Particularly  in  more  primi- 
tive levels,  where  the  secondarily  unifying  power  of  the 
"national" 10  ideal  does  not  arise  to  disturb  the  flow  of  what 
we  might  call  natural  distributions,  is  it  easy  to  show  that 
language  and  culture  are  not  intrinsically  associated.  Totally 
unrelated  languages  share  in  one  culture,  closely  related 
languages — even  a  single  language — belong  to  distinct  cul- 
ture spheres.  There  are  many  excellent  examples  in  aboriginal 
America.  The  Athabaskan  languages  form  as  clearly  unified, 
as  structurally  specialized,  a  group  as  any  that  I  know  of.11 
The  speakers  of  these  languages  belong  to  four  distinct  cul- 
ture areas — the  simple  hunting  culture  of  western  Canada 
and  the  interior  of  Alaska  (Loucheux,  Chipewyan),  the 
buffalo  culture  of  the  Plains  (Sarcee),  the  highly  ritualized 
culture  of  the  southwest  (Navaho),  and  the  peculiarly  spe- 
cialized culture  of  northwestern  California  (Hupa).  The 
cultural  adaptability  of  the  Athabaskan-speaking  peoples  is 
in  the  strangest  contrast  to  the  inaccessibility  to  foreign  in> 
fluences  of  the  languages  themselves.  The  Hupa  Indians 
are  very  typical  of  the  culture  area  to  which  they  belong. 
Culturally  identical  with  them  are  the  neighboring  Yurok 
and  Karok.  There  is  the  liveliest  intertribal  intercourse  be- 
tween the  Hupa,  Yurok,  and  Karok,  so  much  so  that  all 
three  generally  attend  an  important  religious  ceremony  given 
by  any  one  of  them.  It  is  difficult  to  say  what  elements  in 
their  combined  culture  belong  in  origin  to  this  tribe  or 
that,  ro  much  at  one  are  they  in  communal  action,  feeling, 
and  thought.  But  their  languages  are  not  merely  alien  tc 
each  other;  they  belong  to  three  of  the  ma:or  American 
linguistic  groups,  each  with  an  immense  distribution  on  the 
northern  continent.  Hupa,  as  we  have  seen,  is  Athabaskan 
and,  as  such,  is  also  distantly  related  to  Haida  (Queen  Char- 
lotte Islands)  and  Tlingit  (southern  Alaska);  Yurok  is 
one  of  the  two  isolated  Californian  languages  of  the  Algon- 


148  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

kin  stock,  the  center  of  gravity  of  which  lies  in  the  region 
of  the  Great  Lakes;  Karok  is  the  northernmost  member  of 
the  Hokan  group,  which  stretches  far  to  the  south  beyond 
the  confines  of  California  and  has  remoter  relatives  along  the 
Gulf  of  Mexico. 

Returning  to  English,  most  of  us  would  readily  admit, 
I  believe,  that  the  community  of  language  between  Great 
Britain  and  the  United  States  is  far  from  arguing  a  like 
community  of  culture.  It  is  customary  to  say  that  they 
possess  a  common  "Anglo-Saxon"  cultural  heritage,  but  are 
not  many  significant  differences  in  life  and  feeling  obscured 
by  the  tendency  of  the  "cultured"  to  take  this  common 
heritage  too  much  for  granted?  In  so  far  as  America  is  still 
specifically  "English,"  it  is  only  colonially  or  vestigially  so; 
its  prevailing  cultural  drift  is  partly  towards  autonomous 
and  distinctive  developments,  partly  towards  immersion  in 
the  larger  European  culture  of  which  that  of  England  is 
only  a  particular  facet.  We  cannot  deny  that  the  possession 
of  a  common  language  is  still  and  will  long  continue  to  be 
a  smoother  of  the  way  to  a  mutual  cultural  understanding  be- 
tween England  and  America,  but  it  is  very  clear  that  other 
factors,  some  of  them  rapidly  cumulative,  are  working  pow- 
erfully to  counteract  this  leveling  influence.  A  common 
language  cannot  indefinitely  set  the  seal  on  a  common  cul- 
ture when  geographical,  political,  and  economic  determi- 
nants of  the  culture  are  no  longer  the  same  throughout  its 
area. 

Language,  race,  and  culture  are  not  necessarily  correlated. 
This  does  not  mean  that  they  never  are.  There  is  one 
tendency,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  for  racial  and  cultural  lines 
of  cleavage  to  correspond  to  linguistic  ones,  though  in  any 
given  case  the  latter  may  not  be  of  the  same  degree  of  im- 
portance as  the  others.  Thus,  there  is  a  fairly  definite  line 
of  cleavage  between  the  Polynesian  languages,  race,  and 
culture  on  the  one  hand  and  those  of  the  Melanesians  on  the 
other,  in  spite  of  a  considerable  amount  of  overlapping.12 
The  racial  and  cultural  divisions,  however,  particularly  the 


RACE    AND    LANGUAGE  145 

former,  are  of  major  importance,  while  the  linguistic  division 
is  of  quite  minor  significance,  the  Polynesian  languages  con- 
stituting hardly  more  than  a  special  dialectic  subdivision 
of  the  combined  Melanesian-Polynesian  group.  Still  clearer- 
cut  coincidences  of  cleavage  may  be  found.  The  language, 
race,  and  culture  of  the  Eskimo  are  markedly  distinct  from 
those  of  their  neighbors; 13  in  southern  Africa  the  language, 
race,  and  culture  of  the  Bushmen  offer  an  even  stronger 
contrast  to  those  of  their  Bantu  neighbors.  Coincidences  or 
this  sort  are  of  the  greatest  significance,  of  course,  but  this 
significance  is  not  one  of  inherent  psychological  relation  be- 
tween the  three  factors  of  race,  language,  and  culture.  The 
coincidences  of  cleavage  point  merely  to  a  readily  intelligible 
historical  association.  If  the  Bantu  and  Bushmen  are  so 
sharply  differentiated  in  all  respects,  the  reason  is  simply 
that  the  former  are  relatively  recent  arrivals  in  southern 
Africa.  The  two  peoples  developed  in  complete  isolation 
from  each  other;  their  present  propinquity  is  too  recent  for 
the  slow  process  of  cultural  and  racial  assimilation  to  have 
set  in  very  powerfully.  As  we  go  back  in  time,  we  shall  have 
to  assume  that  relatively  scanty  populations  occupied  large 
territories  for  untold  generations  and  that  contact  with 
other  masses  of  population  was  not  as  insistent  and  pro- 
longed as  it  later  became.  The  geographical  and  historical 
isolation  that  brought  about  race  differentiations  was  nat- 
urally favorable  also  to  far-reaching  variations  in  language 
and  culture.  The  very  fact  that  races  and  cultures  which 
are  brought  into  historical  contact  tend  to  assimilate  in  the 
long  run,  while  neighboring  languages  assimilate  each  other 
only  casually  and  in  superficial  respects,14  indicates  that 
there  is  no  profound  causal  relation  between  the  develop- 
ment of  language  and  the  specific  development  of  race 
and  of  culture. 

But  surely,  the  wary  reader  will  object,  there  must  be  some 
relation  between  language  and  culture,  and  between  lan- 
guage and  at  least  that  intangible  aspect* of  race  that  we  "call 
'temperament "  Is  it  not  inconceivable  that  the  particulal 


150  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

collective  qualities  of  mind  that  have  fashioned  a  culture 
are  not  precisely  the  same  as  were  responsible  for  the  growth 
of  a  particular  linguistic  morphology  ?  This  question  takes 
us  into  the  heart  of  the  most  difficult  problems  of  social 
psychology.  It  is  doubtful  if  any  one  has  yet  attained  to  suffi- 
cient clarity  on  the  nature  of  the  historical  process  and  on 
the  ultimate  psychological  factors  involved  in  linguistic  and 
cultural  drifts  to  answer  :"  intelligently.  I  can  only  very 
briefly  set  forth  my  own  views,  or  rather  my  general  atti- 
tude* It  would  be  very  difficult  to  prove  that  "temperament," 
the  general  emotional  disposition  of  a  people,15  is  basically 
responsible  foi  the  slant  and  drift  of  a  culture,  however 
much  it  may  manifest  itself  In  an  individual's  handling  of 
the  elements  of  that  culture.  But  granted  that  temperament 
has  a  certain  value  for  the  shaping  of  culture,  difficult 
though  it  be  to  say  just  ho;v,  it  does  not  follow  that  it  has 
the  same  value  for  the  shaping  of  language.  It  is  impossible 
to  show  that  the  form  of  a  language  has  the  slightest  con- 
nection with  national  temperament.  Its  line  of  variation,  its 
drift,  runs  inexorably  in  the  channel  ordained  for  it  by  its 
historic  antecedents;  it  is  as  regardless  of  the  feelings  and 
sentiments  of  its  speakers  as  is  the  course  of  a  river  of  the 
atmospheric  humors  of  the  landscape.  I  am  convinced  that 
it  is  futile  to  look  in  linguistic  structure  for  differences  cor- 
responding to  the  temperamental  variations  which  are  sup- 
posed to  be  correlated  with  race.  In  this  connection  it  is 
well  to  remember  that  the  emotional  aspect  of  our  psychic 
life  is  but  meagerly  expressed  in  the  build  of  language. 

Language  and  our  thought-grooves  are  inextricably  inter- 
woven, are,  in  a  sense,  one  and  the  same.  As  there  is  nothing 
to  show  that  there  are  significant  racial  differences  in  the 
fundamental  conformation  of  thought,  it  follows  that  the 
infinite  variability  of  linguistic  form,  another  name  for  the 
infinite  variability  of  the  actual  process  of  thought,  cannot 
be  an  index  of  such  significant  racial  differences.  This  is 
only  apparently  a  paradox.  The  latent  content  of  all  lan- 
guages is  the  same — the  intuitive  science  of  experience.  It  is 


RACE    AND    LANGUAGE  15! 

the  manifest  form  that  is  never  twice  the  same,  for  this 
form,  which  we  call  linguistic  morphology,  is  nothing  more 
or  less  than  a  collective  art  of  thought,  an  art  denuded  of  the 
irrelevancies  of  individual  sentiment.  At  last  analysis,  then, 
language  can  no  more  flow  from  race  as  such  than  can  the 
sonnet  form. 

Nor  can  I  believe  that  culture  and  language  are  in  any 
true  sense  causally  related.  Culture  may  be  defined  as  what 
a  society  does  and  thinks.  Language  is  a  particular  how  of 
thought.  It  is  difficult  to  see  what  particular  causal  relations 
may  be  expected  to  subsist  between  a  selected  inventory  of 
experience  (culture,  a  significant  selection  made  by  society) 
and  the  particular  manner  in  which  the  society  expresses  all 
experience.  The  drift  of  culture,  another  way  of  saying 
history,  is  a  complex  series  of  changes  in  society's  selected 
inventory — additions,  losses,  changes  of  emphasis  and  rela- 
tion. The  drift  of  language  is  not  properly  concerned  with 
changes  of  content  at  all,  merely  with  changes  in  formal 
expression.  It  is  possible,  in  thought,  to  change  every  sound, 
word,  and  concrete  concept  of  a  language  without  changing 
its  inner  actuality  in  the  least,  just  as  one  can  pour  into 
a  fixed  mold  water  or  plaster  or  molten  gold.  If  it  can  be 
shown  that  culture  has  an  innate  form,  a  series  of  contours,, 
quite  apart  from  subject-matter  of  any  description  whatso- 
ever, we  have  a  something  in  culture  that  may  serve  as  a 
term  of  comparison  with  and  possibly  a  means  of  relating 
it  to  language.  But  until  such  purely  formal  patterns  of 
culture  are  discovered  and  laid  bare,  we  shall  do  well  to 
hold  the  drifts  of  language  and  of  culture  to  be  non-com- 
parable and  unrelated  processes.  From  this  it  follows  that 
all  attempts  to  connect  particular  types  of  linguistic  mor- 
phology with  certain  correlated  stages  of  cultural  develop- 
ment are  vain.  Rightly  understood,  such  correlations  are 
rubbish.  The  merest  coup  d'oeil  verifies  our  theoretical 
argument  on  this  point.  Both  simple  and  complex  types  of 
language  of  an  indefinite  number  of  varieties  may  be  found 
spoken  at  any  desired  level  of  cultural  advance.  When  it 


152  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

comes  to  linguistic  form,  Plato  walks  with  the  Macedonian 
swineherd,  Confucius  with  the  head-hunting  savage  of 
Assam. 

It  goes  without  saying  that  the  mere  content  of  language 
is  intimately  related  to  culture.  A  society  that  has  no  knowl- 
edge of  theosophy  need  have  no  name  for  it;  aborigines  that 
had  never  seen  or  heard  of  a  horse  were  compelled  to  invent 
or  borrow  a  word  for  the  animal  when  they  made  his  ac- 
quaintance. In  the  sense  that  the  vocabulary  of  a  language 
more  or  less  faithfully  reflects  the  culture  whose  purposes 
it  serves  it  is  perfectly  true  that  the  history  of  language  and 
the  history  of  culture  move  along  parallel  lines.  But  this 
superficial  and  extraneous  kind  of  parallelism  is  of  no  real 
interest  to  the  linguist  except  in  so  far  as  the  growth  or 
borrowing  of  new  words  incidentally  throws  light  on  the 
formal  trends  of  the  language.  The  linguistic  student  should 
never  make  the  mistake  of  identifying  a  language  with  it': 
dictionary. 

There  is  perhaps  no  better  way  to  learn  the  essential  nature 
of  speech  than  to  realize  what  it  is  not  and  what  it  does 
not  do.  Its  superficial  connections  with  other  historic 
processes  are  so  close  that  it  needs  to  be  shaken  free  of 
them  if  we  are  to  see  it  in  its  own  right.  Everything  that 
we  have  so  far  seen  to  be  true  of  language  points  to  the 
fact  that  it  is  the  most  significant  and  colossal  work  that  the 
human  spirit  has  evolved — nothing  short  of  a  finished  form 
of  expression  for  all  communicable  experience.  This  form 
may  be  endlessly  varied  by  the  individual  without  thereby 
losing  its  distinctive  contours;  and  it  is  constantly  reshaping 
itself  as  is  all  art.  Language  is  the  most  massive  and  in- 
clusive art  we  know,  a  mountainous  and  anonymous  work 
of  unconscious  generations. 

NOTES 

1  Itself  an  amalgam  of  North  "French"  and  Scandinavian  elements. 

2  The  "Celtic1*  blood  of  what  is  now  England  and  Wales  is  by  no  means 
confined  to  the  Celtic-speaking  regions — Wales  and,  until  recently,  Corn- 
wall. There  is  every  reason  to  believe  that  the  invading  Germanic  tribes 


RACE    AND    LANGUAGE  153 

(Angles,  Saxons,  Jutes)  did  not  exterminate  the  Brythonic  Celts  of  Eng 
land  nor  yet  drive  them  altogether  into  Wales  and  Cornwall  (there  has 
been  far  too  much  "driving"  of  conquered  peoples  into  mountain  fast- 
nesses and  land's  ends  in  our  histories),  but  simply  intermingled  with 
them  and  imposed  their  rule  and  language  upon  them. 

3  In  practice  these  three  peoples  can  hardly  be  kept  altogether  distinct. 
The  terms  have  rather  a  local -sentimental  than  a  clearly  racial  value.  In- 
termarriage has  gone  on  steadily  for  centuries  and  it  is  only  in  certain 
outlying  regions  that  we  get  relatively  pure  types,  e.g.,  the  Highland  Scotch 
of  the   Hebrides.   In   America,   English,   Scotch,   and   Irish   strands    have 
become  inextricably  interwoven. 

4  The  High  German  now  spoken  in  northern  Germany  is  not  of  great 
age,  but  is  due   to  the  spread  of  standardized  German,  based  on  Upper 
Saxon,  a  High  German  dialect,  at  the  expense  of  "Plattdeutsch." 

5  "Dolichocephalic." 

6  "Brachycephahc." 

7  By  working  back  from  such  data  as  we  possess  we  can  make  it  prob- 
able  that   these    languages   were   originally   confined    to    a  comparatively 
small   area  in   northern  Germany  and   Scandinavia.  This   area   is  clearly 
marginal  to  the  total  area  of  distribution  of  the  Indo-European-speaking 
peoples.  Their  center  of  gravity,  say   1000  B.C.,  seems  to  have  lain  in 
southern  Russia. 

8  While  this  is  only  a  theory,  the  technical  evidence   for  it  is  stronger 
than  one  might  suppose.  There  are  a  surprising  number  of  common  and 
characteristic   Germanic  words  which  cannot  be  connected   with   known 
Indo-European  radical  elements  and  which  may  well  be  survivals  of  the 
hypothetical    pre -Germanic   language;    such    are    house,   stone,   sea,    wiJ6 
(German  liaus,  Stein,  See,  Weib). 

9  Only  the  easternmost  part  of  this  island  is  occupied  by  Melanesian- 
speaking  Papuans. 

10  A  "nationality"  is  a  major,  sentimentally  unified,  group.  The  his- 
torical  factors  that  lead   to  the  feeling  of  national  unity  are   various- 
political,   cultural,   linguistic,   geographic,   sometimes   specifically   religious. 
True  racial  factors  also  may  enter  in,  though  the  accent  on  "race"  has 
generally  a  psychological   rather  than  a  strictly  biological   value.   In   an 
area  dominated   by  the  national  sentiment  there  is  a  tendency  for  lan- 
guage and  culture  to  become  uniform  and  specific,  so  that  linguistic  and 
cultural  boundaries  at  least  tend  to  coincide.  Even  at  best,  however,  the 
linguistic  unification  is  never  absolute,  while  the  cultural  unity  is  apt  to 
be  superficial,  of  a  quasi-political  nature,  rather  than  deep  and  far-reaching* 

11  The  Semitic  languages,  idiosyncratic  as  they  are,  are  no  more  defr 
nitely  ear-marked. 

12  Tlic  Fijians,  for  instance,  while  of  Papuan  (negroid)  race,  are  Poly- 
nesian rather  than  Melanesian  in  their  cultural   and  linguistic   affinities. 

18  Though  even  here  there  is  some  significant  overlapping.  The  south- 
ernmost Eskimo  of  Alaska  were  assimilated  in  culture  to  their  Tlingit 
neighbors.  In  northeastern  Siberia,  too,  there  is  no  sharp  cultural  line 
between  the  Eskimo  and  the  Chukchi. 

14  The  supersession  of  one  language  by  another  is  of  course  not  truly 
a  matter  of  linguistic  assimilation. 

18  "Temperament"  is  a  rliflf^nlt  term  to  work  with.  A  great  deal  of 


154  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

what  is  loosely  charged  to  national  "temperament"  is  really  nothing  but 
customary  behavior,  the  effect  of  traditional  ideals  of  conduct.  In  a  cul- 
ture, for  instance,  that  does  not  look  kindly  upon  demonstrativcncss,  the 
natural  tendency  to  the  display  of  emotion  becomes  more  than  normally 
inhibited.  It  would  be  quite  misleading  to  argue  from  the  customary 
inhibition,  a  cultural  fact,  to  the  native  temperament.  But  ordinarily  we 
can  get  at  human  conduct  only  as  it  is  culturally  modified.  Temperament 
in  the  raw  is  a  highly  elusive  thing. 


Ill 

SOCIAL  ORGANIZATION 


DAS  MUTTERRECHT* 

By  ].  BACHOFEN 
INTRODUCTION 

THE  purpose  of  the  present  work  is  to  discuss  a  histori- 
cal phenomenon  that  has  hitherto  been  regarded  by  few 
and  which  no  one  has  as  yet  fully  examined.  Students  of 
antiquity  fail  to  mention  the  matriarchy.  The  very  word  is 
new,  as  is  the  type  of  family  life  to  which  it  refers.  We  not 
only  lack  extensive  preparatory  work,  but  to  date  no  in- 
vestigator has  made  any  effort  to  interpret  that  stage  of 
civilization  to  which  the  matriarchy  belongs.  In  discussing 
it,  we  are,  therefore,  entering  upon  entirely  unexplored 
ground.  This  study  will  lead  us  from  the  known  ages  of 
antiquity  into  earlier  periods  and  from  the  world  of  ideas 
that  has  been  so  familiar  to  us  in  the  past  into  an  older 
milieu,  wholly  unknown.  Those  peoples  with  whose  names 
the  greatness  of  antiquity  is  almost  exclusively  associated 
must  recede  into  the  background,  while  others,  who  nevei 
attained  the  heights  of  classical  culture,  occupy  their  places. 
An  unknown  world  is  suddenly  revealed  to  us.  And,  the 
farther  we  penetrate  into  this  world,  the  more  strange  does 
everything  about  us  become.  Everywhere  we  meet  antitheses 
to  the  ideas  of  an  advanced  civilization,  everywhere  older 
views,  for  we  are  entering  into  an  era  with  a  character  of 
its  own  and  a  morality  that  can  be  judged  only  on  the  basis 
of  its  own  principles.  The  gynaecocratic  law  of  the  family 
is  strange  not  only  when  we  view  it.  The  Ancients  already 
looked  upon  it  as  peculiar.  Beside  the  Hellenic  form  of  life 
that  older  law  to  which  the  matriarchy  belongs,  from  which 
it  has  proceeded,  and  by  which  alone  it  can  be  explained, 

*  Das  Muttcrrccht.  The   material  here   reproduced   was  translated  by 
Frida  Ilmer. 

157 


158  -  THEMAKINGOFMAN 

seems  strange,  indeed.  It  will  be  the  aim  of  the  following 
investigation  to  present  the  vital  principle  underlying  this 
gynaecocratic  epoch.  I  wish  to  show  it  in  its  true  relation- 
ships with  the  lower  stages  of  culture  on  the  one  hand,  and 
the  more  advanced  on  the  other.  I  fully  realize  that  I  have 
set  myself  a  task  that  is  more  inclusive  than  the  title  I  have 
chosen  would  indicate.  It  will  extend  to  all  phases  of  gynae- 
cocratic  ethics,  illuminating  both  its  individual  traits  and 
the  fundamental  principle  uniting  them.  Thus  I  hope  to 
reconstruct  the  picture  of  a  stage  of  culture  that  has  been 
arrested,  and  in  places  even  completley  halted,  by  the  ad- 
vance of  the  classical  era.  My  aim  may  seem  too  ambitious. 
But  only  by  thus  expanding  our  vision  to  its  widest  limits 
is  it  possible  to  gain  true  understanding  and  to  extend  the 
scientific  idea  with  that  clarity  and  precision  which  consti- 
tute the  essence  of  knowledge. 

Of  all  reports  that  testify  to  the  existence  of  the  matriarchy 
in  its  intrinsic  form,  those  concerning  the  Lykians  are  the 
clearest  and  most  valuable.  The  Lykians,  so  reports  Herod- 
otus, named  their  children  not  after  their  fathers,  as  did 
the  Hellenes,  but  after  their  mothers.  In  all  genealogical  re- 
ports they  stressed  only  the  maternal  line  of  descent  and 
determined  the  rank  of  the  child  solely  by  that  of  its  mother. 
Nicholas  of  Damascus  strengthened  this  statement  by  call- 
ing attention  to  the  exclusive  inheritance  rights  of  daugh- 
ters. These  rights  he  traced  back  to  a  traditional  law  of  the 
Lykians,  that  is,  an  unwritten  law,  which,  according  to 
Socrates'  definition  must  be  regarded  as  given  by  the  gods 
themselves.  Although  Herodotus  sees  in  them  nothing  more 
than  a  strange  deviation  from  Hellenic  custom,  the  observa- 
tion of  their  inner  unity  must  lead  us  to  a  profounder  inter- 
pretation. What  we  meet  is  not  incoherent,  but  systematic; 
it  is  not  arbitrary,  but  seems  to  have  arisen  from  necessity. 
Since,  in  addition,  any  influence  of  a  written  law-code  is 
emphatically  denied,  the  assumption  that  these  customs  rep- 
resent but  an  insignificant  anomaly,  loses  its  last  semblance 
of  justification.  The  Hellenic-Roman  father  principle  is 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  159 

hereby  contrasted  with  a  code  of  family  ethics  that  is  its 
direct  opposite  both  in  its  fundamental  principles  and  in 
their  resultant  development.  This  concept  is  further  affirmed 
by  the  discovery  of  similar  codes  among  other  races.  Ac- 
cording to  an  Egyptian  custom,  testified  to  by  Diodorus,. 
daughters  alone  are  responsible  for  the  support  of  their  aged 
parents.  This  corresponds  well  to  the  exclusive  inheritance 
rights  of  the  Lykians.  But  even  though  this  practice  seems 
to  complete  the  Lykian  system,  a  report  of  Strabo's  concern- 
ing the  Cantabrians  leads  us  to  still  further  variants  of  the 
same  principle.  Among  the  Cantabrians,  so  Strabo  reports,, 
brothers  are  elocated  and  equipped  with  dowries  by  their 
sisters.  In  addition  to  presenting  a  remarkably  complete 
picture,  these  facts  also  justify  the  assumption  that  the 
matriarchy  is  not  merely  an  unusual  development  peculiar 
to  one  nation,  but  is  characteristic  of  an  entire  cultural  stage. 
Granted  the  uniformity  of  human  nature,  we  must  conclude 
that  the  matriarchy  is  not  conditioned  nor  limited  by  racial 
lines.  Finally,  we  must  turn  our  attention  not  so  much  to 
the  internal  harmony  prevailing  in  the  various  forms  dis- 
covered, as  to  the  identity  of  the  fundamental  idea  govern- 
ing the  entire  system. 

To  this  series  of  general  facts  the  Polybrian  reports  con- 
cerning the  100  aristocratic  Locrian  families  which  are 
characterized  by  maternal  genealogy  adds  even  more  intrin- 
sically related  material,  the  correctness  and  significance  of 
which  will  be  proven  in  the  course  of  this  investigation. 
The  matriarchy  belongs  to  an  earlier  stage  of  civilization 
than  the  patriarchal  system  and  its  full  and  unlimited 
strength  crumbled  before  victorious  paternity.  That  this  was 
so  is  corroborated  by  the  fact  that  the  gynsecocratic  forms 
of  society  are  found  principally  among  those  nations  that 
are  older  than  the  Hellenic  peoples.  They  are  an  essential 
part  of  that  original  culture  whose  peculiarities  are-  as 
closely  linked  up  with  the  predominance  of  the  matriarchy 
as  Hellenism  is  with  the  rule  of  the  father. 


ifo  THEMAKINGOFMAN 

The  marked  coherence  evidenced  by  gynaecocratic  culture 
points  clearly  to  the  existence  of  one  governing  principle, 
whose  every  outward  expression  is  of  the  same  substance. 
They  suggest  a  self-sufficient  stage  in  the  development  of 
the  human  mind.  The  dominance  of  the  maternal  element 
cannot  be  conceived  of  as  an  individual  phenomenon.  Such 
a  morality,  for  instance,  as  that  displayed  by  the  Hellenic 
civilization  at  its  height,  cannot  be  associated  with  it.  The 
same  contrast  that  governs  the  patriarchal  and  matriarchal 
principles  must  of  necessity  permeate  every  phase  of  life  in 
tnese  two  cultures. 

The  consistency  of  the  gynaecocratic  principle  is  borne 
out  in  the  preference  of  the  left  over  the  right,  commonly 
found  among  matriarchic  peoples.  The  left  direction  belongs 
to  the  passive  nature  of  woman,  while  the  right  is  charac- 
teristic of  the  active  male.  To  clarify  this  point,  we  need  but 
recall  the  part  which  the  left  hand  of  Isis  plays  in  the  Nile 
region,  one  of  the  strongholds  of  matriarchy.  Once  we  have 
become  aware  of  this  tendency,  other  facts  soon  appear  in 
great  numbers,  testifying  to  its  significance  and  universality, 
and  assuring  its  freedom  from  philosophic  speculation.  In 
manners  and  usages  of  civil  life  as  well  as  of  ritual,  in 
peculiarities  of  garment  as  well  as  of  hairdress,  no  less  than 
in  the  meaning  of  certain  idiomatic  turns  of  speech,  the 
same  fundamental  principle  finds  repeated  expression.  It  is 
the  principle  of  the  major  honos  Ice v arum  partium,  closely 
associated  with  the  matriarchy. 

By  no  means  less  significant  is  a  second  expression  of 
the  same  fundamental  law,  that  of  the  predominance  of 
night  over  the  day  born  of  her  maternal  womb.  An  oppo- 
site conception  would  be  decidedly  in  conflict  with  the 
gynaecocratic  point  of  view.  In  antiquity  already  has  the 
preference  of  night  been  associated  with  that  of  the  left, 
and  both  have  been  placed  in  line  with  a  dominant  ma- 
ternal influence.  In  this  instance,  too,  hoary  customs  and 
usages,  such  as  the  reckoning  of  time  by  nights,  the  selec- 
tion of  the  night  for  battles,  council  and  court  assemblies, 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  l6l 

that  is,  the  preference  of  darkness  for  the  exercise  of  social 
functions,  show  that  we  are  not  dealing  with  a  philosophic 
theory  of  a  later  origin,  but  with  an  actual,  primary  mode 
of  life.  Pursuing  this  line  of  reasoning,  we  shall  easily  recog- 
nize the  preference  of  the  moon  over  the  sun  and  of  the 
receptive  earth  over  the  fertilizing  ocean  as  the  integral 
characteristics  of  an  epoch  that  was  primarily  matriarchic. 
Added  to  these  observations  comes  the  preference  of  the 
sinister  aspect  of  life,  death,  over  its  bright  aspect  of  crea- 
tion, the  predominance  of  the  dead  over  the  living  and  of 
sorrow  over  joy.  In  the  course  of  this  investigation  they 
will  receive  a  deeper  affirmation  and  significance.  At  this 
point  we  find  ourselves  involved  in  an  ideology  to  which 
the  matriarchy  appears  no  longer  as  a  strange  and  incompre- 
hensible phenomenon,  but  as  a  homogeneous  entity.  Never- 
theless, our  picture  still  shows  many  gaps  and  vague  patches. 
But  every  discovery  that  rests  upon  a  solid  foundation  pos- 
sesses the  unusual  power  of  rapidly  attracting  everything* 
related  to  it  into  its  own  sphere,  thus  pointing  readily  the 
way  from  the  obvious  to  hidden  facts. 

A  faint  hint  made  by  an  author  of  antiquity  often  suffices, 
then,  to  disclose  new  vistas.  Such  an  example  is  offered  by 
the  distinction  of  the  sister  and  of  the  youngest-born  chikL 
Both  of  these  usages  belong  to  the  maternal  principle,  dis- 
playing its  fundamental  law  in  a  new  guise.  The  signifi- 
cance of  the  sister  relationship  is  hinted  at  by  a  remark 
which  Tacitus  makes  concerning  the  corresponding  Ger, 
man  practice.  A  similar  report  of  Plutarch's  concerning 
Roman  usages  reveals  the  fact  that  here,  too,  we  are  not 
confronted  by  an  accidental,  localized  custom,  but  by  the 
effects  of  a  universal  principle.  The  preference  for  the 
youngest  child  is  fully  recognized  by  Philostrates  in  his 
Heroic  Tales.  And  even  though  this  work  falls  into  a  some- 
what later  period,  it  is  nonetheless  of  the  greatest  signifi- 
cance in  the  interpretation  of  the  oldest  ideas.  A  great 
number  of  disconnected  examples,  gleaned  in  part  from 
mythical  traditions  and  in  part  from  historical  reports,  soon 


l62  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

gather  about  these  two  practices,  proving  their  universal  ap- 
plication as  well  as  their  originality.  It  is  not  difficult  to  see 
with  which  phase  of  the  gynaecocratic  idea  each  of  these  phe- 
nomena is  associated.  The  preference  of  the  sister  over  the 
brother  merely  lends  a  new  expression  to  that  of  the  daugh- 
ter over  the  son.  The  preference  of  the  youngest-born  child 
attaches  the  prolongation  of  life  to  that  offspring  of  the 
maternal  stem,  which,  because  it  was  the  last  to  spring  into 
being,  will  also  be  the  last  to  be  reached  by  death. 

The  family  that  is  based  upon  patriarchic  law  soon  solidi- 
fies into  one  individual  organism,  while  the  matriarchic 
family  bears  that  typically  collective  character  which  stands 
at  the  commencement  of  all  civilization.  It  is  this  collective 
character  which  distinguishes  the  material  aspects  of  life  from 
the  higher,  spiritual  ones.  Herself  the  mortal  image  of  the 
Mother  of  Earth,  Demeter,  every  woman  gives  birth  to  chil- 
dren who  are  the  brothers  and  sisters  of  every  other  woman's 
child.  The  native  country  under  matriarchy  will  know  only 
brothers  and  sisters,  and  this  will  last  until  an  exclusively 
patriarchal  era  will  have  superseded  it,  dissolving  the  unity 
of  the  mass  and  supplanting  all  with  the  smaller  units  of  the 
family.  In  matriarchic  communities  this  phase  of  the  ma- 
ternal principle  frequently  finds  legal  expression;  indeed  it 
is  often  affirmed  by  law.  Upon  it  rests  that  principle  of 
liberty  and  equality  which  we  shall  often  meet  as  a  funda- 
mental trait  in  the  life  of  gynoecocracics.  It  is  also  the  source 
of  opposition  to  limiting  barriers  of  any  kind.  It  is  the  cause 
of  the  far-reaching  significance  of  certain  concepts,  which, 
not  unlike  the  Roman  paricidium,  were  slow  to  exchange 
their  natural  and  general  meaning  with  their  individual,  i.e., 
limited  application.  Finally  it  is  the  source  of  the  special 
praise  bestowed  upon  a  sense  of  closeness  and  ovpnd6sia9 
which  knows  no  bounds  and  includes  all  members  of  the 
race  without  distinction.  The  absence  of  strife  and  aversion 
to  warfare  are  characteristics  that  are  repeatedly  lauded  in 
accounts  of  matriarchic  states. 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  I&3 

The  elevation  of  the  human  race  and  the  progress  of 
ethics  are  closely  linked  up  with  the  rule  of  woman.  In  like 
manner  the  introduction  of  regularity  and  the  cultivation 
of  the  religious  sense.  The  enjoyment  of  every  higher 
pleasure  must  be  closely  associated  with  the  matriarchy.  The 
longing  for  a  purification  of  life  arises  earlier  in  woman  than 
in  man,  and  she  also  possesses  to  a  higher  degree  the  natural 
faculty  of  effecting  it.  The  entire  ethic  code  that  follows 
upon  barbarism  is  the  work  of  woman.  Her  contribution  to 
society  is  not  only  the  power  to  give  life,  but  also  the  ability 
to  bestow  all  that  which  makes  life  beautiful.  Hers  is  the 
earliest  knowledge  of  the  forces  of  nature,  hers  is  also  the 
presentiment  and  the  hope  that  conquers  the  pain  of  death. 
Viewed  from  this  angle,  the  gynarcocracy  appears  as  a  testi- 
mony to  the  progress  of  civilization.  It  is  the  source  and 
guarantee  of  its  benefits,  as  well  as  a  necessary  educational 
period  in  the  history  of  man.  It  is  therefore  in  itself  the 
realization  of  natural  law  whose  patterns  must  be  observed 
by  entire  races  as  well  as  by  individual  beings. 

The  circle  in  which  my  ideas  have  developed  has  now 
been  completed.  I  began  by  stressing  the  independence  of 
matriarchy  from  all  written  laws  and  deduced  from  this  its 
universal  nature.  I  am  now  able  to  affirm  its  genuine  posi- 
tion among  family  ethics  and  to  complete  its  description. 

Originating  with  the  life-giving  power  of  maternity, 
whose  physical  image  it  reflects,  the  gynaccocracy  is  com- 
pletely under  the  influence  of  matter  and  of  the  natural 
phenomena  from  which  it  has  derived  its  laws.  Woman  is 
more  keenly  aware  of  the  unity  pervading  all  life.  She  is 
more  closely  linked  to  the  harmony  of  the  universe,  of  which 
she  still  is  a  part.  She  is  more  sensitive  to  the  pain  of  man's 
mortal  fate  and  to  that  frailty  of  the  earthly  existence  to 
which  woman,  and  especially  the  mother,  devotes  her  sor- 
row. She  seeks  with  greater  longing  a  higher  consolation 
and  finds  it  in  the  phenomena  of  nature.  But  these,  too,  she 
links  up  closely  with  the  life-giving  womb,  the  receptive, 
protecting,  and  nourishing  mother's  love.  Obedient  in  every 


164  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

respect  to  the  laws  of  material  existence,  she  prefers  to 
direct  her  glances  down  to  the  ground,  placing  the  #Toric 
powers  above  those  of  the  Uranic  light.  She  identifies  male 
potency  preferably  with  inland  water,  subordinating  the 
procreative  fluidum  to  the  grcmium  matris,  the  dnedvoe 
to  the  earth.  Her  own  existence  being  grounded  in  the  soil, 
she  bestows  all  her  care  and  labor  upon  the  beautification 
of  the  material  life,  the  npaxTlX*1  «PfiT*/.  In  agriculture, 
which  woman  was  the  first  to  develop,  and  in  the  construc- 
tion of  walls,  which  the  Ancients  very  closely  associated 
with  the  cult  of  the  chthonic,  she  achieves  a  perfection  that 
has  often  been  admired  by  later  generations.  In  no  other 
period  than  during  the  matriarchy  has  there  been  such  an 
emphatic  stress  placed  upon  the  external  appearance  and 
the  protection  of  the  body,  while  spiritual  beauty  was 
scarcely  emphasized.  Nor  has  there  ever  been  another  era 
that  carried  out  so  consistently  the  maternal  dualism  and  a 
de  facto  realistic  spirit.  No  other  period  has  been  equally 
concerned  to  further  lyric  enthusiasm,  that  primarily  femi- 
nine mood,  rooted  in  the  love  of  nature.  In  other  words, 
the  gynaecocratic  form  of  life  is  a  well-ordered  naturalism, 
its  laws  of  thought  are  materialistic,  its  development  is 
chiefly  physical.  It  is  a  stage  of  culture  that  is  just  as  neces- 
sary in  matriarchy  as  it  is  strange  and  incomprehensible  in 
a  patriarchic  age. 


Those  who  believe  in  the  necessary  primacy  of  permanent 
sexual  unions  cannot  be  spared  a  humiliating  surprise.  The 
ruling  thought  of  antiquity  is  not  only  different  from  theirs; 
it  is  its  perfect  antithesis.  The  Demetrian  principle  [of  mar- 
riage] appears  at  first  as  the  limitation  of  a  more  original 
principle  that  was  directly  opposed  to  it.  Marriage  itself 
seems  as  the  violation  of  a  religious  commandment.  This 
condition,  incomprehensible  as  it  may  appear  to  our 
ideology,  is  nevertheless  supported  by  historical  testimony. 
It  alone  is  able  to  explain  to  our  satisfaction  a  series  of 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  165 

most  peculiar  phenomena  that  have  never  been  appreciated 
in  their  true  light.  It  alone  can  account  for  the  belief  that 
marriage  requires  the  propitiation  of  the  godhead  whose 
law  it  violates  by  its  exclusive  character.  Nature  has  not 
endowed  woman  with  all  her  charms  merely  to  let  her  fade 
in  the  arms  of  one  man.  The  law  of  materialism  abhors  all 
limitations;  it  hates  all  bonds,  and  considers  exclusiveness 
of  any  kind  as  a  sin  against  its  divine  power.  This  fact,  then, 
explains  all  usages  that  cause  marriage  itself  to  appear  in 
association  with  rites  of  religious  prostitution.  Though 
varied  in  form,  they  are  nevertheless  similar  in  their 
fundamental  idea.  The  deviation  from  natural  law  which  is 
implied  in  marriage  must  be  expiated  by  temporary  prostitu- 
tion, thus  winning  anew  the  favor  of  the  god.  The  two 
institutions  that  appear  to  be  mutually  exclusive,  prostitu- 
tion and  rigid  marriage  laws,  now  appear  to  be  linked  by 
the  closest  bonds:  prostitution  itself  becomes  a  security  for 
marital  chastity,  and  the  worship  of  this  chastity  becomes 
a  condition  to  which  woman's  calling  as  wife  is  bound. 
It  is  obvious  that  the  progress  toward  a  higher  morality 
could  at  best  be  very  slow  during  the  struggle  against  this 
attitude  which,  moreover,  was  shielded  by  religious  sanction. 
The  variety  of  intermediate  stages  which  we  discover  prove, 
indeed,  how  fluctuating  were  the  fortunes  of  the  struggle 
that  was  waged  on  this  behalf  for  thousands  of  years.  The 
Demetrian  principle  advances  but  slowly  toward  victory. 
In  the  course  of  the  ages  the  expiation  which  the  married 
woman  must  pay  was  reduced  to  a  smaller  amount  and  to 
an  easier  service.  The  gradual  emergence  of  these  individual 
stages  deserves  our  most  careful  understanding.  At  first  the 
annual  payment  gives  place  to  one  single  tribute.  Instead 
of  the  matron  it  is  the  unmarried  girl  who  serves  as  hetaera; 
prostitution,  instead  of  being  practiced  after  marriage,  is 
now  practiced  before.  Instead  of  unquestioning  surrender 
to  any  male,  only  a  certain  few  men  are  now  selected.  In 
connection  with  these  limitations  there  appears  the  conse- 
cration of  hierordulas.  This  step  has  become  of  special 


|66  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

significance,  since  it  places  the  payment  of  the  expiation 
upon  the  shoulders  of  one  particular  class,  thereby  freeing 
the  matron  entirely  from  her  duty  and  contributing  toward 
the  elevation  of  society.  The  lightest  form  of  individual 
expiation  is  found  in  the  sacrifice  of  the  woman's  hair  at 
marriage.  Hair  has  in  many  instances  been  named  as  the 
equivalent  of  the  body  in  the  prime  of  life.  The  Ancients, 
especially,  have  associated  it  closely  with  the  irregularity 
of  hetaeric  procreation,  particularly  with  the  vegetation  of 
the  morast,  its  prototype  in  nature.  All  of  these  phases  have 
left  numerous  traces  in  their  wake,  not  only  in  mythology, 
but  also  in  the  history  of  different  peoples;  they  have  found 
verbal  expression  even  in  the  names  of  places,  gods,  and 
tribes. 

It  seems  strange  to  us,  who  are  accustomed  to  different 
modes  of  thought,  to  see  conditions  and  events  which  we 
are  wont  to  relegate  to  the  intimacy  of  the  family  circle 
exerting  such  a  far-reaching  influence  upon  the  entire  state, 
its  rise  and  its  decline.  That  aspect  of  the  internal  develop- 
ment of  Ancient  man  with  which  we  are  now  concerned  has 
not  been  given  the  slightest  attention  by  past  investigators. 
Still,  it  is  precisely  this  connection  which  exists  between 
the  attitude  toward  the  relationship  of  the  sexes  and  the 
entire  lives  and  destinies  of  nations  that  brings  the  following 
study  into  immediate  contact  with  the  primary  questions 
of  history.  The  encounter  of  the  Asiatic  world  with  that  o£ 
the  Greek  is  represented  as  a  struggle  between  the  Aphro- 
ditic-Hetaeric  and  the  Hereic-monogamous  principles.  Like- 
wise, the  cause  of  the  Trojan  War  is  led  back  to  the  viola- 
tion of  the  marital  couch.  In  continuation  of  the  same  idea, 
the  finally  complete  conquest  of  Aphrodite,  the  mother  of 
the  ^Eneads,  by  the  matronal  Juno,  is  placed  in  the  era 
of  the  second  Punic  War,  that  is,  that  period  in  which  the 
inner  strength  of  the  Roman  people  had  attained  its  apex. 

The  connection  that  exists  between  all  these  phenomena 
cannot  be  overlooked.  History  has  imposed  the  task  upon 
the  Occident  to  lead  the  higher,  Demetrian  principle  to  vie 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  167 

tory  because  of  the  purer  and  chaster  nature  of  its  peoples, 
thus  freeing  mankind  from  the  bondage  of  the  lowest 
telluricism  in  which  the  magic  power  of  the  Oriental  culture 
has  held  it  captive.  It  is  to  the  political  idea  of  the  imperium 
with  which  it  entered  into  the  arena  of  world  history  that 
Rome  owes  the  power  which  enabled  it  to  end  forever  A 
complete  culture  that  had  once  been  prevalent  in  antiquity 


ORGANIZATION  OF  SOCIETY  UPON  THE  BASIS 

OF  SEX  * 

By  LEWIS  H.  MORGAN 

IN  treating  the  subject  of  the  growth  of  the  idea  of  govern- 
ment, the  organization  into  gentes  on  the  basis  of  kin  nat- 
urally suggests  itself  as  the  archaic  framework  of  ancient 
society;  but  there  is  a  still  older  and  more  archaic  organiza- 
tion, that  into  classes  on  the  basis  of  sex,  which  first  de- 
mands attention.  It  will  not  be  taken  up  because  of  its 
novelty  in  human  experience,  but  for  the  higher  reason  that 
it  seems  to  contain  the  germinal  principle  of  the  gens.  If 
this  inference  is  warranted  by  the  facts  it  will  give  to  this 
organization  into  male  and  female  classes,  now  found  in 
full  vitality  among  the  Australian  aborigines,  an  ancient 
prevalence  as  widespread  in  the  tribes  of  mankind  as  the 
original  organization  into  gentes. 

It  will  soon  be  perceived  that  low  down  in  savagery  com- 
munity of  husbands  and  wives,  within  prescribed  limits,  was 
the  central  principle  of  the  social  system.  The  marital  rights 
and  privileges  (jura  conjugalia),1  established  in  the  group, 
grew  into  a  stupendous  scheme,  which  became  the  organic 
principle  on  which  society  was  constituted.  From  the  nature 
of  the  case  these  rights  and  privileges  rooted  themselves  so 
firmly  that  emancipation  from  them  was  slowly  accom- 
plished through  movements  which  resulted  in  unconscious 
reformations.  Accordingly  it  will  be  found  that  the  family 
has  advanced  from  a  lower  to  a  higher  form  as  the  range  of 
this  conjugal  system  was  gradually  reduced.  The  family, 
commencing  in  the  consanguine,  founded  upon  the  inter- 
marriage of  brothers  and  sisters  in  a  group,  passed  into  the 

*  Ancient  Society.  New  York:  Henry  Holt  &  Co. 

1 68 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  169 

second  form,  the  punaluan,  under  a  social  system  akin  to 
the  Australian  classes,  which  broke  up  the  first  species  of 
marriage  by  substituting  groups  of  brothers  who  shared 
their  wives  in  common,  and  groups  of  sisters  who  shared 
their  husbands  in  common, — marriage  in  both  cases  being 
in  the  group.  The  organization  into  classes  upon  sex,  and 
the  subsequent  higher  organization  into  gentes  upon  kinr 
must  be  regarded  as  the  results  of  great  social  movement? 
worked  out  unconsciously  through  natural  selection.  Fof 
these  reasons  the  Australian  system,  about  to  be  presented, 
deserves  attentive  consideration,  although  it  carries  us  into 
a  low  grade  of  human  life.  It  represents  a  striking  phase 
of  the  ancient  social  history  of  our  race. 

The  organization  into  classes  on  the  basis  of  kin  now  pre- 
vails among  that  portion  of  the  Australian  aborigines  who 
speak  the  Kamilaroi  language.  They  inhabit  the  Darling 
River  district  north  of  Sydney.  Both  organizations  are  alsc 
found  in  other  Australian  tribes,  and  so  widespread  as  to 
render  probable  their  ancient  universal  prevalence  among 
them.  It  is  evident  from  internal  considerations  that  the 
male  and  female  classes  are  older  than  the  gentes:  firstly, 
because  the  gentile  organization  is  higher  than  that  into 
classes;  and  secondly,  because  the  former,  among  the 
Kamilaroi,  are  in  process  of  overthrowing  the  latter.  The 
class  in  its  male  and  female  branches  is  the  unit  of  their 
social  system,  which  place  rightfully  belongs  to  the  gens 
when  in  full  development.  A  remarkable  combination  of 
facts  is  thus  presented;  namely,  a  sexual  and  a  gentile  or- 
ganization, both  in  existence  at  the  same  time,  the  former 
holding  the  central  position,  and  the  latter  inchoate  but 
advancing  to  completeness  through  encroachments  upon 
the  former. 

This  organization  upon  sex  has  not  been  found,  as  yet,  in 
any  tribes  of  savages  out  of  Australia,  but  the  slow  de- 
velopment of  these  islanders  in  their  secluded  habitat,  and 
the  more  archaic  character  of  the  organization  upon  sex 
than  that  into  gentes,  suggests  the  conjecture,  that  the  former 


*70  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

may  have  been  universal  in  such  branches  of  the  human 
family  as  afterwards  possessed  the  gentile  organization.  Al- 
though the  class  system,  when  traced  out  fully,  involves 
some  bewildering  complications,  it  will  reward  the  attention 
necessary  for  its  mastery.  As  a  curious  social  organization 
among  savages  it  possesses  but  little  interest;  but  as  the 
most  primitive  form  of  society  hitherto  discovered,  and  more 
especially  with  the  contingent  probability  that  the  remote 
progenitors  of  our  own  Aryan  family  were  once  similarly 
organized,  it  becomes  important,  and  may  prove  instructive. 

The  Australians  rank  below  the  Polynesians,  and  far  below 
the  American  aborigines.  They  stand  below  the  African 
Negro  and  near  the  bottom  of  the  scale.  Their  social  in- 
stitutions, therefore,  must  approach  the  primitive  type  as 
nearly  as  those  of  any  existing  people.2 

The  Kamilaroi  are  divided  into  six  gentes,  standing  with 
reference  to  the  right  of  marriage,  in  two  divisions,  as 
follows: 

I.  i.  Iguana,  (Duli).  2.  Kangaroo,  (Murriira).3  3.  Opos- 
sum, (Mute). 

II.  4.  Emu,  (Dinoun).  5.  Bandicoot,  (Bilba).  6.  Black- 
snake,  (Nurai). 

Originally  the  first  three  gentes  were  not  allowed  to  in- 
termarry with  each  other,  because  they  were  subdivisions  of 
an  original  gens;  but  they  were  permitted  to  marry  into 
either  of  the  other  gentes,  and  vice  versa.  This  ancient  rule 
is  now  modified,  among  the  Kamilaroi,  in  certain  definite 
particulars,  but  not  carried  to  the  full  extent  of  permitting 
marriage  into  any  gens  but  that  of  the  individual.  Neither 
males  nor  females  can  marry  into  their  own  gens,  the  pro- 
hibition being  absolute.  Descent  is  in  the  female  line,  which 
assigns  the  children  to  the  gens  of  their  mother.  These  are 
among  the  essential  characteristics  of  the  gens,  wherever  this 
institution  is  found  in  its  archaic  form.  In  its  external 
features,  therefore,  it  is  perfect  and  complete  among  the 
Kamilaroi. 

But  there  is  a  further  and  older  division  of  the  people 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  iy\ 

into  eight  classes,  four  of  which  are  composed  exclusively 
of  males,  and  four  exclusively  of  females.  It  is  accompanied 
with  a  regulation  in  respect  to  marriage  and  descent  which 
obstructs  the  gens,  and  demonstrates  that  the  latter  organiza- 
tion is  in  process  of  development  into  its  true  logical  form. 
One  only  of  the  four  classes  of  males  can  marry  into  one  only 
of  the  four  classes  of  females.  In  the  sequel  it  will  be  found 
that  all  the  males  of  one  class  are,  theoretically,  the  hus- 
bands of  all  the  females  of  the  class  into  which  they  are  al- 
lowed to  marry.  Moreover,  if  the  male  belongs  to  one  of 
the  first  three  gentes  the  female  must  belong  to  one  of 
the  opposite  three.  Marriage  is  thus  restricted  to  a  portion 
of  the  males  of  one  gens,  with  a  portion  of  the  females  of 
another  gens,  which  is  opposed  to  the  true  theory  of  the 
gentile  institution,  for  all  the  members  of  each  gens  should 
be  allowed  to  marry  persons  of  the  opposite  sex  in  all  the 
gentes  except  their  own, 
The  classes  are  the  following: 

Male  Female 

1.  Tppai.  i.  Ippata. 

2.  Kumbo.  2.  Buta. 

3.  Mi.rri.  3.  Mata. 

4.  Kubbi.  4.  Kapota. 

All  the  Ippais,  of  whatever  gens,  are  brothers  to  each 
other.  Theoretically,  they  are  descended  from  a  supposed 
common  female  ancestor.  All  the  Kumbos  are  the  same;  and 
so  are  all  the  Murris  and  Kubbis,  respectively,  and  for  the 
same  reason.  In  like  manner,  all  the  Ippatas,  of  whatever 
gens,  are  sisters  to  each  other,  and  for  the  same  reason;  all 
the  Butas  are  the  same,  and  so  are  all  the  Matas  and  Kapotas, 
respectively.  In  the  next  place,  all  the  Ippais  and  Ippatas  are 
brothers  and  sisters  to  each  other,  whether  children  of  the 
same  mother  or  collateral  consanguinei,  and  in  whatever 
gens  they  are  found.  The  Kumbos  and  Butas  are  brothers 
and  sisters;  and  so  are  the  Murris  and  Matas,  and.  the 
Kubbis  and  Kapotas  respectively.  If  an  Ippai  and  Ippata 
meet,  who  have  never  seen  each  other  before,  they  address 


172  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

each  other  as  brother  and  sister.  The  Kamilaroi,  therefore, 
are  organized  into  four  great  primary  groups  of  brothers 
and  sisters,  each  group  being  composed  of  a  male  and  a 
female  branch;  but  intermingled  over  the  areas  of  their 
occupation.  Founded  upon  sex,  instead  of  kin,  it  is  older 
than  the  gentes,  and  more  archaic,  it  may  be  repeated,  than 
any  form  of  society  hitherto  known. 

The  classes  embody  the  germ  of  the  gens,  but  fall  short 
of  its  realization.  In  reality  the  Ippais  and  Ippatas  form  a 
single  class  in  two  branches,  and  since  they  cannot  inter- 
marry they  would  form  the  basis  of  a  gens  but  for  the  reason 
that  they  fall  under  two  names,  each  of  which  is  integral 
for  certain  purposes,  and  for  the  further  reason  that  their 
children  take  different  names  from  their  own.  The  division 
into  classes  is  upon  sex  instead  of  kin,  and  has  its  primary 
relation  to  a  rule  of  marriage  as  remarkable  as  it  is  original. 

Since  brothers  and  sisters  are  not  allowed  to  intermarry, 
the  classes  stand  to  each  other  in  a  different  order  with 
respect  to  the  right  of  marriage,  or  rather,  of  cohabitation, 
which  better  expresses  the  relation.  Such  was  the  original 
law,  thus: 

Ippai  can  marry  Kapota,  and  no  other. 
Kumbo  can  marry  Mata,  and  no  other. 
Murri  can  marry  Buta,  and  no  other. 
Kubbi  can  marry  Ippata,  and  no  other. 

This  exclusive  scheme  has  been  modified  in  one  particular, 
as  will  hereafter  be  shown:  namely,  in  giving  to  each  class 
of  males  the  right  of  intermarriage  with  one  additional  class 
of  females.  In  this  fact,  evidence  of  the  encroachment  of  the 
gens  upon  the  class  is  furnished,  tending  to  the  overthrow 
of  the  latter. 

It  is  thus  seen  that  each  male  in  the  selection  of  a  wife  is 
limited  to  one-fourth  part  of  all  the  Kamilaroi  females. 
This,  however,  is  not  the  remarkable  part  of  the  system. 
Theoretically  every  Kapota  is  the  wife  of  every  Ippai;  every 
Mata  is  the  wife  of  every  Kumbo;  every  Buta  is  the  wife  of 
every  Murri;  and  every  Ippata  of  every  Kubbi.  Upon  this 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  173 

material  point  the  information  is  specific.  Mr.  Fison,  before 
mentioned,  after  observing  that  Mr.  Lance  had  "had  much 
intercourse  with  the  natives,  having  lived  among  them  many 
years  on  frontier  cattle-stations  on  the  Darling  River,  and 
in  the  trans-Darling  country,"  quotes  from  his  letter  as  fol- 
lows: "If  a  Kubbi  meets  a  stranger  Ippata,  they  address 
each  other  as  Goleer — Spouse.  ...  A  Kubbi  thus  meeting 
an  Ippata,  even  though  she  were  of  another  tribe,  would 
treat  her  as  his  wife,  and  his  right  to  do  so  would  be  recog- 
nized by  her  tribe."  Every  Ippata  within  the  immediate 
circle  of  his  acquaintance  would  consequently  be  his  wife 
as  well. 

Here  we  find,  in  a  direct  and  definite  form,  punaluan 
marriage  in  a  group  of  unusual  extent;  but  broken  up  into 
lesser  groups,  each  a  miniature  representation  of  the  whole, 
united  for  habitation  and  subsistence.  Under  the  conjugal 
system  thus  brought  to  light,  one-quarter  of  all  the  males 
are  united  in  marriage  with  one-quarter  of  all  the  fe- 
males of  the  Kamilaroi  tribes.  This  picture  of  savage  life 
need  not  revolt  the  mind  because  to  them  it  was  a  form 
of  the  marriage  relation,  and  therefore  devoid  of  im- 
propriety. It  is  but  an  extended  form  of  polygyny  and 
polyandry,  which,  within  narrower  limits,  have  prevailed 
universally  among  savage  tribes.  The  evidence  of  the  fact  still 
exists,  in  unmistakable  form,  in  their  systems  of  con- 
sanguinity and  affinity,  which  have  outlived  the  customs 
and  usages  in  which  they  originated.  It  will  be  noticed  that 
this  scheme  of  intermarriage  is  but  a  step  from  promiscuity, 
because  it  is  tantamount  to  that  with  the  addition  of  a 
method.  Still,  as  it  is  made  a  subject  of  organic  regulation, 
it  is  far  removed  from  general  promiscuity.  Moreover,  it 
reveals  an  existing  state  of  marriage  and  of  the  family  of 
which  no  adequate  conception  could  have  been  formed  apart 
from  the  facts.  It  affords  the  first  direct  evidence  of  a  state 
of  society  which  had  previously  been  deduced,  as  extremely 
probable,  from  systems  of  consanguinity  and  affinity.4 

Whilst  the  children  remained  in  the  gens  of  their  mother, 


174  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

they  passed  into  another  class,  in  the  same  gens,  different 
from  that  of  either  parent.  This  will  be  made  apparent  by 
the  following  table: 

Male  Female  Male  Female 

Ippai  marries  Kapota.  Their  children  are  Murri  and  Mata. 
Kumbo  marries  Mata.  Their  children  are  Kubbi  and  Kapota. 
Murri  marries  Buta.  Their  children  are  Ippai  and  Ippata. 
Kubbi  marries  Ippata.  Their  children  are  Kumbo  and  Buta. 

If  these  descents  are  followed  out  it  will  be  found  that,  in 
the  female  line,  Kapota  is  the  mother  of  Mata,  and  Mata  in 
turn  is  the  mother  of  Kapota;  so  Ippata  is  the  mother  of 
Buta,  and  the  latter  in  turn  is  the  mother  of  Ippata.  It  is 
the  same  with  the  male  classes;  but  since  descent  is  in  the 
female  line,  the  Kamilaroi  tribes  derive  themselves  from  two 
supposed  female  ancestors,  which  laid  the  foundation  for  two 
original  gentes.  By  tracing  these  descents  still  further  it  will 
be  found  that  the  blood  of  each  class  passes  through  all  the 
classes. 

Although  each  individual  bears  one  of  the  class  names 
above  given,  it  will  be  understood  that  each  has  in  addition 
the  single  personal  name,  which  is  common  among  savage 
as  well  as  barbarous  tribes.  The  more  closely  this  organiza- 
tion upon  sex  is  scrutinized,  the  more  remarkable  it  seems 
as  the  work  of  savages.  When  once  established,  and  after 
that  transmitted  through  a  few  generations,  it  would  hold 
society  with  such  power  as  to  become  difficult  of  displace, 
/nent.  It  would  require  a  similar  and  higher  system,  and 
centuries  of  time,  to  accomplish  this  result;  particularly  if 
the  range  of  the  conjugal  system  would  thereby  be  abridged. 

The  gentile  organization  supervened  naturally  upon  the 
classes  as  a  higher  organization,  by  simply  enfolding  them 
unchanged.  That  it  was  subsequent  in  point  of  time,  is 
shown  by  the  relations  of  the  two  systems,  by  the  inchoate 
condition  of  the  gentes,  by  the  impaired  condition  of  the 
classes  through  encroachments  by  the  gens,  and  by  the  fact 
that  the  class  is  still  the  unit  of  organization.  These  conclu- 
sions will  be  made  apparent  in  the  sequel. 

From  the  preceding  statements  the  composition  of  the 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  175 

gentes  will  be  understood  when  placed  in  their  relations  to 
the  classes.  The  latter  are  in  pairs  of  brothers  and  sisters 
derived  from  each  other;  and  the  gentes  themselves,  through 
the  classes,  are  in  pairs,  as  follows: 

Gentes  Male          Female          Male  Female 

1.  Iguana.  All  are  Murri  and  Mata,  or  Kubbi  and  Kapota. 

2.  Emu.  All  arc  Kumbo  and  Buta,  or  Ippai  and  Ippata. 

3.  Kangaroo.  All  arc  Murri  and  Mata,  or  Kubbi  and  Kapota. 

4.  Bandicoot.  All  arc  Kumbo  and  Buta,  or  Ippai  and  Ippata. 

5.  Opossum.  All  arc  Murri  and  Mata,  or  Kubbi  and  Kapota. 

6.  Blacksnakc.  All  arc  Kumbj  and  Buta,  or  Ippai  and  Ippata. 

The  connection  of  children  with  a  particular  gens  is 
proven  by  the  law  of  marriage.  Thus,  Iguana-Mata  must 
marry  Kumbo;  her  children  are  Kubbi  and  Kapota,  and 
necessarily  Iguana  in  gens,  because  descent  is  in  the  female 
line.  Iguana-Kapota  must  marry  Ippai;  her  children  are 
Murri  and  Mata,  and  also  Iguana  in  gens,  for  the  same 
reason.  In  like  manner  Emu-Buta  must  marry  Murri;  her 
children  are  Ippai  and  Ippata,  and  of  the  Emu  gens.  So 
Emu-Ippata  must  marry  Kubbi;  her  children  are  Kumbo 
and  Buta,  and  also  of  the  Emu  gens.  In  this  manner  the 
gens  is  maintained  by  keeping  in  its  membership  the  chil- 
dren of  all  ;ts  female  members.  The  same  is  true  in  aH 
respects  of  each  of  the  remaining  gentes.  It  will  be  noticed 
that  each  gens  is  made  up,  theoretically,  of  the  descendants 
of  two  supposed  female  ancestors,  and  contains  four  of  the 
eight  classes.  It  seems  probable  that  originally  there  were 
but  two  male,  and  two  female,  classes,  which  were  .set 
opposite  to  each  other  in  respect  to  the  right  of  marriage; 
and  that  the  foui  afterward  subdivided  into  eight.  The 
classes  as  an  anterior  organization  were  evidently  arranged 
within  the  gentes,  and  not  formed  by  the  subdivision  of  the 
latter. 

Moreover,  since  the  Iguana,  Kangaroo  and  Opossum 
gentes  are  found  to  be  counterparts  of  each  other,  in  the 
classes  they  contain,  it  follows  that  they  are  subdivisions  of 
an  original  gens.  Precisely  the  same  is  true  of  Emu,  Bancli- 
coot  and  Blacksnake,  in  both  particulars;  thus  reducing  tin 


176  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

six  to  two  original  gentes,  with  the  right  in  each  to  marry 
into  the  other,  but  not  into  itself.  It  is  confirmed  by  the  fact 
that  the  members  of  the  first  three  gentes  could  not  originally 
intermarry;  neither  could  the  members  of  the  last  three. 
The  reason  which  prevented  intermarriage  in  the  gens, 
when  the  three  were  one,  would  follow  the  subdivisions' 
because  they  were  of  the  same  descent  although  under  dif- 
ferent gentile  names.  Exactly  the  same  thing  is  found  among 
the  Seneca-Iroquois. 

Since  marriage  is  restricted  to  particular  classes,  when  there 
were  but  two  gentes,  one-half  of  all  the  females  of  one  were, 
theoretically,  the  wives  of  one-half  of  all  the  males  of  the 
other.  After  their  subdivision  into  six  the  benefit  of  marry- 
ing out  of  the  gens,  which  was  the  chief  advantage  of  the 
institution,  was  arrested,  if  not  neutralized,  by  the  presence 
of  the  classes  together  with  the  restrictions  mentioned.  It 
resulted  in  continuous  in-and-in  marriages  beyond  the  im- 
mediate degree  of  brother  and  sister.  If  the  gens  could  have 
eradicated  the  classes  this  evil  would,  in  a  great  measure, 
have  been  removed.5  The  organization  into  classes  seems 
to  have  been  directed  to  the  single  object  of  breaking  up 
the  intermarriage  of  brothers  and  sisters,  which  affords  a 
probable  explanation  of  the  origin  of  the  system.  But  since 
it  did  not  look  beyond  this  special  abomination  it  retained 
a  conjugal  system  nearly  as  objectionable,  as  well  as  cast 
it  in  a  permanent  form. 

It  remains  to  notice  an  innovation  upon  the  original  con- 
stitution of  the  classes,  and  in  favor  of  the  gens,  which  re- 
veals a  movement,  still  pending,  in  the  direction  of  the  true 
ideal  of  the  gens.  It  is  shown  in  two  particulars:  firstly, 
in  allowing  each  triad  of  gentes  to  intermarry  with  each 
other,  to  a  limited  extent;  and  secondly,  to  marry  into  classes 
not  before  permitted.  Thus,  Iguana-Murri  can  now  marry 
Mata  in  the  Kangaroo  gens,  his  collateral  sister,  whereas 
originally  he  was  restricted  to  Buta  in  the  opposite  three. 
So  Iguana-Kubbi  can  now  marry  Kapota,  his  collateral 
sister.  Emu-Kumbo  can  now  marry  Buta,  and  Emu-Ippai 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  177 

can  marry  Ippata  in  the  Blacksnakc  gens,  contrary  to  original 
limitations.  Each  class  of  males  in  each  triad  of  gentes 
<?eems  now  to  be  allowed  one  additional  class  of  females 
in  the  two  remaining  gentes  of  the  same  triad,  from  which 
they  were  before  excluded.  The  memoranda  sent  by  Mr. 
Fison,  however,  do  not  show  a  change  to  the  full  extent 
here  indicated.6 

This  innovation  would  plainly  have  been  a  retrograde 
movement  but  that  it  tended  to  break  down  the  classes.  The 
line  of  progress  among  the  Kamilaroi,  so  far  as  any  is  ob- 
servable, was  from  classes  into  gentes,  followed  by  a 
tendency  to  make  the  gens  instead  of  the  class  the  unit  of 
the  social  organism.  In  this  movement  the  overshadowing 
system  of  cohabitation  was  the  resisting  element.  Social  ad- 
vancement was  impossible  without  diminishing  its  extent, 
which  was  equally  impossible  so  long  as  the  classes  with  the 
privileges  they  conferred  remained  in  full  vitality.  The  jura 
conjugalia,  which  appertained  to  these  classes,  were  the  dead 
weight  upon  the  Kamilaroi,  without  emancipation  from 
which  they  would  have  remained  for  additional  thousands 
of  years  in  the  same  condition,  substantially,  in  which  they 
were  found. 

An  organization  somewhat  similar  is  indicated  by  the 
punalua  of  the  Hawaiians.  Wherever  the  middle  or  lower 
stratum  of  savagery  is  uncovered,  marriages  of  entire  groups 
under  usages  defining  the  groups  have  been  discovered 
either  in  absolute  form  or  such  traces  as  to  leave  little  doubt 
that  such  marriages  were  normal  throughout  this  period  of 
man's  history.  It  is  immaterial  whether  the  group,  theoreti- 
cally, was  large  or  small,  the  necessities  of  their  condition 
would  set  a  practical  limit  to  the  size  of  the  group  living 
together  under  this  custom.  If  then  community  of  husbands 
and  wives  is  found  to  have  been  a  law  of  the  savage  state, 
and,  therefore,  the  essential  condition  of  society  in  savagery, 
the  inference  would  be  conclusive  that  our  own  savage 
ancestors  shared  in  this  common  experience  of  the  hurtian 
nee. 


178  THEMAKINGOFMAN 

In  such  usages  and  customs  an  explanation  of  the  low 
condition  oi'  savages  is  found.  If  men  in  savagery  had  not 
been  left  behind,  in  isolated  portions  of  the  earth,  to  testify 
concerning  the  early  condition  of  mankind  in  general,  it 
would  have  been  impossible  to  form  any  definite  concep- 
tion of  what  it  must  have  been.  An  important  inference  at 
once  arises,  namely,  that  the  institutions  of  mankind  have 
sprung  up  in  a  progressive  connected  series^  each  of  which 
represents  the  result  of  unconscious  reformatory  movements 
to  extricate  society  from  existing  evils.  The  wear  of  ages  is 
upon  these  institutions  for  the  proper  understanding  of 
which  they  must  be  studied  hi  this  light.  It  cannot  be  as- 
sumed that  the  Australian  savages  are  now  at  the  bottom 
of  the  scale,  for  their  arts  and  institutions,  humble  as  they 
are,  show  the  contrary;  neither  is  there  any  ground  for 
assuming  their  degradation  from  a  higher  condition,  because 
the  facts  of  human  experience  afford  no  sound  basis  for 
such  an  hypothesis.  Cases  of  physical  and  mental  deteriora- 
tion in  tribes  and  nations  may  be  admitted,  for  reasons  which 
are  known,  but  they  never  interrupted  the  general  progress 
of  mankind.  All  the  facts  of  human  knowledge  and  ex- 
perience tend  to  show  that  the  human  race,  as  a  whole,  have 
steadily  progressed  from  a  lower  to  a  higher  condition. 
The  arts  by  which  savages  maintain  their  lives  are  remark- 
ably persistent.  They  are  never  lost  until  superseded  by 
others  higher  in  degree.  By  the  practice  of  these  arts,  and 
by  the  experience  gained  through  social  organizations, 
mankind  have  advanced  under  a  necessary  law  of  develop- 
ment, although  their  progress  may  have  been  substantially 
imperceptible  for  centuries. 

The  Australian  classes  afford  the  first,  and,  so  far  as  the 
writer  is  aware,  the  only  case  in  which  we  are  able  to  look 
down  into  the  incipient  stages  of  the  organization  into  gentes, 
and  even  through  it  upon  an  anterior  organization  so  archaic 
as  that  upon  sex.  It  seems  to  afford  a  glimpse  at  society 
when  it  verged  upon  the  primitive.  Among  other  tribes 
the  gens  seems  to  have  advanced  in  proportion  to  the  curtail- 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  179 

merit  of  the  conjugal  system.  Mankind  rise  in  the  scale  and 
the  family  advances  through  its  successive  forms,  as  these 
rights  sink  down  before  the  efforts  of  society  to  improve  its 
internal  organization. 

The  Australians  might  npt  have  effected  the  overthrow 
of  the  classes  in  thousands  of  years  if  they  had  remained  un- 
discovered; while  more  favored  continental  tribes  had  long 
before  perfected  the  gens,  then  advanced  it  through  its  suc- 
cessive phases,  and  at  last  laid  it  aside  after  entering  upon 
civilization.  Facts  illustrating  the  rise  of  successive  social 
organizations,  such  as  that  upon  sex,  and  that  upon  kin,  are 
of  the  highest  ethnological  value.  A  knowledge  of  what 
they  indicate  is  eminently  desirable,  if  the  early  history  of 
mankind  is  to  be  measurably  recovered. 

Among  the  Polynesian  tribes  the  gens  was  unknown;  but 
traces  of  a  system  analogous  to  the  Australian  classes  appeal 
in  the  Hawaiian  custom  of  punalua.  Original  ideas,  abso 
lutely  independent  of  previous  knowledge  and  experience 
are  necessarily  few  in  number.  Were  it  possible  to  reduce 
the  sum  of  human  ideas  to  under ived  originals,  the  small 
numerical  result  would  be  startling.  Development  is  the 
method  of  human  progress. 

In  the  light  of  these  facts  some  of  the  excrescences  of 
modern  civilization,  such  as  Mormonism,  are  seen  to  be 
relics  of  the  old  savagism  not  yet  eradicated  from  the  human 
brain.  We  have  the  same  brain,  perpetuated  by  reproduction, 
which  worked  in  the  skulls  of  barbarians  and  savages  in  by- 
gone ages;  and  it  has  come  down  to  us  laden  and  sat- 
urated with  the  thoughts,  aspirations  and  passions,  with 
which  it  was  busied  through  the  intermediate  periods.  It  is 
the  same  brain  grown  older  and  larger  with  the  experience 
of  the  ages.  These  outcrops  of  barbarism  are  so  many  revela- 
tions of  its  ancient  proclivities.  They  are  explainable  as  a 
species  of  mental  atavism. 

Out  of  a  few  germs  of  thought,  conceived  in  the  early 
ages,  have  been  evolved  all  the  principal  institutions  of  man- 
kind. Beginning  their  growth  in  the  period  of  savagery. 


l8<)  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

fermenting  through  the  period  of  barbarism,  they  have  con* 
tinued  their  advancement  through  the  period  of  civiliza- 
tion. The  evolution  of  these  germs  of  thought  has  been 
guided  by  a  natural  logic  which  formed  an  essential  at- 
tribute of  the  brain  itself.  So  unerringly  has  this  principle 
performed  its  functions  in  all  conditions  of  experience,  and 
in  all  periods  of  time,  that  its  results  are  uniform,  coherent 
and  traceable  in  their  courses.  These  results  alone  will  in 
time  yield  convincing  proofs  of  the  unity  of  origin  of 
mankind.  The  mental  history  of  the  human  race,  which  is 
revealed  in  institutions,  inventions  and  discoveries,  is  pre- 
sumptively the  history  of  a  single  species,  perpetuated 
through  individuals,  and  developed  through  experience. 
Among  the  original  germs  of  thought,  which  have  exer- 
cised the  most  powerful  influence  upon  the  human  mind, 
and  upon  human  destiny,  are  these  which  relate  to  govern- 
ment, to  the  family,  to  language,  to  religion,  and  to  property. 
They  had  a  definite  beginning  far  back  in  savagery,  and  a 
logical  progress,  but  can  have  no  final  consummation,  be- 
cause they  are  still  progressing,  and  must  ever  continue 
to  progress. 

NOTES 

1  The  Romans  made  a  distinction  between  connubium    which  related 
10  marriage  considered  as  a  civil  institution,  and  conjugmm,  which  was 
a  mere  physical  union. 

2  For  the  detailed  facts  of  the  Australian  system  I  am  indebted  to  the 
Rev.  Lorimer  Fison,  an  English  missionary  in  Australia,  who  received  2 
portion  of  them  from  the  Rev.  W.  Ridley,  and  another  portion  from  T.  E. 
Lance,  Esq.,  both  of  whom  had  spent  many  years  among  the  Australian 
aborigines,  and  enjoyed  excellent  opportunities  for  observation.  Tlie  facts 
were  sent  by  Mr.  Fison  with  a  critical  analysis  and  discussion  of  the  system, 
which,  with  observations  of  the  writer,  were  published  in  the  Proceedings 
of  the  Am.  Ac  ad.  of  Arts  and  Sciences  for  1872.  See  vol.  viii,  p.  412.  A 
brief  notice  of  the  Kamilaroi  classes  is  given  in  McLennan's  Primitive 
Marriage,  p.  118;  and  in  Tylor's  Early  History  of  Mankind,  p.  288. 

•Padymelon:  a  species  of  kangaroo. 

4  "Systems  of  Consanguinity  and  Affinity  of  the  Human  Family,"  Smith- 
sonian Contributions  to  Knowledge,  vol.  xvii,  pp.  420,  et  seq. 

6  If  a  diagram  of  descents  is  made,  for  example,  of  Ippai  and  Kapota, 
*nd  carried  to  the  fourth  generation,  giving  to  each  intermediate  pair 
two  children,  a  male  and  a  female,  the  following  results  will  appear.  The 
rhildrcn  of  Ippai  and  Kapota  are  Murri  and  Mata.  As  brothers  and  sis- 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  l8l 

ters  the  latter  cannot  marry.  As  the  second  degree,  the  children  of  Murri, 
married  to  Buta,  are  Ippai  and  Ippata,  and  of  Mata  married  to  Kumbo, 
are  Kubbi  and  Kapota.  Of  these,  Ippai  marries  his  cousin  Kapota,  and  Kubbi 
marries  his  cousin  Ippata.  It  will  be  noticed  that  the  eight  classes  arc 
reproduced  from  two  in  the  second  and  third  generations,  with  the 
exception  of  Kumbo  and  Buta.  At  the  next  or  third  degree,  there  are  two 
Murris,  two  Kumbos,  and  two  Butas;  of  whom  the  Murris  marry  the 
Butas,  their  second  cousins,  and  the  Kubbis  the  Matas,  their  second  cousins. 
At  the  fourth  generation  there  are  four  each  of  Ippais,  Kapotas,  Kubbis, 
and  Ippatas,  who  arc  third  cousins.  Of  these,  the  Ippais  marry  the  Kapotas, 
and  the  Kubbis  the  Ippatas;  and  thus  it  runs  from  generation  to  generation. 
A  similar  chart  of  the  remaining  marriageable  classes  will  produce  like 
results.  These  details  are  tedious,  but  they  make  the  fact  apparent  that  in 
this  condition  of  ancient  society  they  not  only  intermarry  constantly,  but 
are  compelled  to  do  so  through  this  organization  upon  sex.  Cohabitation 
would  not  follow  this  invariable  course  because  an  entire  male  and  female 
class  were  married  in  a  group;  but  its  occurrence  must  have  been  constant 
under  the  system.  One  of  the  primary  objects  secured  by  the  gens,  when 
fully  matured,  was  thus  defeated:  namely,  the  segregation  of  a  moiety  of 
the  descendants  of  a  supposed  common  ancestor  under  a  prohibition  of 
intermarriage,  followed  by  a  right  of  marrying  into  any  other  gens. 
6  Proc.  Am.  Acad.  Arts  and  Scicncts,  viii,  436. 


MOTHERRIGHT* 

By  E.  S.  HARTLAND 

IN  the  contemplation  of  peoples  in  the  lower  culture  birth 
is  a  phenomenon  independent  of  the  union  of  the  sexes. 
By  this  it  is  not  meant  that  at  the  present  time  everywhere 
among  such  peoples  physiological  knowledge  is  still  in  so 
backward  a  condition  that  the  cooperation  of  the  sexes  is 
regarded  as  a  matter  of  indifference  in  the  production  of 
children.  That  would  be  to  contradict  the  facts.  To-day  the 
vast  majority  of  savage  and  barbarous  nations  are  aware  that 
sexual  union  is  ordinarily  a  condition  precedent  to  birth. 
Even  among  such  peoples,  however,  exceptions  are  admitted 
without  difficulty;  and  there  are  peoples  like  certain  Aus- 
tralian tribes  who  do  not  yet  understand  it.  Their  stage  of 
ignorance  was  probably  once  the  state  of  other  races  and 
indeed  of  all  humanity.  The  history  of  mankind  so  far  as 
we  can  trace  it,  whether  in  written  records  or  by  the  less 
direct  but  not  less  certain  methods  of  scientific  investiga- 
tion, exhibits  the  slow  and  gradual  encroachments  of  knowl- 
edge on  the  confines  of  almost  boundless  ignorance.  That 
such  ignorance  should  once  have  touched  the  hidden  springs 
of  life  itself  is  no  more  incredible  than  that  it  should  have 
extended  to  the  cause  of  death.  There  are  plenty  of  races  who 
even  yet  attribute  a  death  by  anything  else  than  violence  to 
the  machinations  of  an  evil-disposed  person  or  spirit,  no 
matter  how  old  or  enfeebled  by  privation  or  hardship  the 
deceased  may  have  been.  Nor  do  they  omit  anything  which 
may  render  their  ignorance  on  this  point  unambiguous;  they 
proceed  to  discover  and  punish  the  sorcerer;  they  expel  the 
malicious  spirit;  they  appease  the  enraged  or  arbitrary  di- 
vinity. 

*  Primitive  Paternity.  London:  David  Nutt. 

182 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  183 

Death  has  a  character  mysterious  and  awful,  of  which 
no  familiarity  has  been  able  to  divest  it,  and  which  not 
even  the  latest  researches  of  physiologists  have  been  able 
to  dispel.  Ignorance  of  the  real  cause  of  birth,  it  might  be 
thought,  on  the  other  hand  would  not  long  survive  the 
habitual  commerce  of  men  and  women  and  the  continual 
reproduction  of  the  species.  It  would  not,  in  our  stage  of 
civilization  and  with  our  social  regulations.  But  the  theory 
of  the  evolution  of  civilization  postulates  the  evolution  of 
man,  mentally  and  morally  as  well  as  physically.  At  the 
moment  when  the  anthropoid  became  entitled  to  be  prop- 
erly denominated  man  his  intellectual  capacity  was  not  that 
of  a  Shakespeare,  a  Newton,  a  Darwin,  or  even  of  an  av- 
erage Englishman  of  the  twentieth  century.  He  was  only 
endowed  with  potentialities  which,  after  an  unknown  series 
of  generations  and  thanks  to  what  we  in  our  nescience 
variously  dub  a  fortunate  combination  of  circumstances  or 
an  overruling  Providence,  issued  in  that  supreme  result. 
The  savage  who  has  not  been  thus  favored  is  still  by  com- 
parison undeveloped.  His  intellectual  faculties  are  chiefly 
employed  in  winning  material  subsistence,  in  gratifying  his 
passions,  in  fighting  with  his  fellow-man  and  with  the  wild 
beasts,  often  in  maintaining  a  doubtful  conflict  against  in- 
clement skies,  unfruitful  earth  or  tempestuous  seas.  Many  of 
them,  therefore,  are  dormant,  like  a  bud  before  it  has  un- 
folded. His  attention,  not  habitually  directed  to  the  prob- 
lems of  the  universe,  is  easily  tired.  His  knowledge  is  severely 
limited;  his  range  of  ideas  is  small.  Credulous  as  a  child, 
he  is  put  off  from  the  solution  of  a  merely  speculative 
question  by  a  tale  that  chimes  with  his  previous  ideas, 
though  it  may  transcend  his  actual  experience.  Hence  many 
a  deduction,  many  an  induction,  to  us  plain  and  obvious, 
has  been  retarded,  or  never  reached  at  all:  he  is  still  a 
savage. 

During  many  ages  the  social  organization  of  mankind 
would  not  have  necessitated  the  concentration  of  thought 
on  the  problem  of  paternity.  Descent  is  still  reckoned  ex- 


184  THE    MAKING    O*    MAN 

clusivcly  through  the  mother  by  a  number  of  savage  and 
barbarous  peoples.  This  mode  of  reckoning  descent  is  called 
by  a  useful  term  of  German  origin — Motherright.  It  would 
be  impossible  to  undertake  an  exhaustive  enumeration  of 
the  peoples  among  which  motherright  prevails.  The  civilized 
nations  of  Europe  and  European  origin  reckon  descent  and 
consequently  kinship  through  both  parents.  A  few  others, 
chiefly  more  civilized  nations  like  the  Chinese  and  the 
Arabs,,  agree  with  them.  Apart  from  these  it  may  be 
roughly  said  that  motherright  is  found  in  every  quarter  of 
the  globe.  Not  that  every  people  is  in  the  stage  of  mother- 
right:  on  the  contrary,  many  reckon  through  the  father. 
But  even  where  the  latter  is  the  case  vestiges  of  the  former 
are  commonly  to  be  traced.  And  the  result  of  anthropological 
investigations  during  the  past  half-century  has  been  to  show 
that  motherright  everywhere  preceded  fatherright  and  the 
reckoning  of  descent  in  the  modern  civilized  fashion  through 
both  parents. 

This  past  universality  of  motherright  points  to  a  very 
early  origin.  It  must  have  taken  its  rise  in  a  condition  of 
society  ruder  than  any  of  which  we  have  cognizance.  Let 
us  consider  what  social  organization  it  implies.  Kinship  is 
a  sociological  term.  It  is  not  synonymous  with  blood-rela- 
tionship: it  does  not  express  a  physiological  fact.  Many 
savage  peoples  are  organized  in  totemic  clans,  each  clan 
bearing  usually  the  name  of  an  animal  or  plant  often  sup- 
posed to  be  akin  to  the  human  members  of  the  clan.  Every 
member  of  the  clan  recognizes  every  other  member  as  of 
the  kin.  Inasmuch  as  these  clans  extend  frequently  through 
whole  tribes  and  even  to  distant  parts  of  a  vast  continent 
like  North  America  or  Australia,  it  is  practically  impossible 
that  the  members  can  be  in  a  physiological  sense  blood-rela- 
tions. Notwithstanding  this,  every  member  of  the  totem- 
clan,  wherever  he  may  be  found,  is  entitled  to  all  the 
privileges  and  subject  to  all  the  disabilities  incident  to  his 
status.  He  is  entitled  to  protection  at  the  hands  of  his  fellow- 
clansmen.  He  is  liable  to  be  called  on  to  take  part  in  the 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  l8$ 

blood-feud  of  the  clan,  and  to  suffer  by  an  act  of  vengeance 
for  a  wrong  committed  by  some  other  member  of  the  clan. 
Foremost  among  his  disabilities  is  the  prohibition  to  marry 
or  have  sexual  relations  with  any  woman  within  the  kin* 
Consequently  his  children  must  all  be  children  of  women 
belonging  to  a  different  kin  from  his  own. 

Though  kinship,  however,  is  not  equivalent  to  blood- 
relationship  in  our  sense  of  the  term,  it  is  founded  on  the 
idea  of  common  blood  which  all  within  the  kin  possess  and 
to  which  all  outside  the  kin  are  strangers.  A  feeling  of 
solidarity  runs  through  the  entire  kin,  so  that  it  may  be 
said  without  hyperbole  that  the  kin  is  regarded  as  one  entire 
life,  one  body,  whereof  each  unit  is  more  than  metaphori- 
cally a  member,  a  limb.  The  same  blood  runs  through  them 
all,  and  "the  blood  is  the  life."  Literally  they  may  not  all 
be  descended  from  a  common  ancestry.  Descent  is  the  nor- 
mal, the  typical,  cause  of  kinship  and  a  common  blood.  It 
is  the  legal  presupposition:  by  birth  a  child  enters  a  kin 
for  good  and  ill.  But  kinship  may  also  be  acquired;  and 
when  once  it  is  acquired  by  a  stranger  he  ranks  thenceforth 
for  all  purposes  as  one  descended  from  the  common  an- 
cestor. To  acquire  kinship  a  ceremony  must  be  undergone: 
the  blood  of  the  candidate  for  admission  into  the  kin  must 
be  mingled  with  that  of  the  kin.  This  ceremony,  no  less 
than  the  words  made  use  of  in  various  languages  to  de- 
scribe the  members  of  the  kin  and  their  common  bond, 
renders  it  clear  that  the  bond  is  the  bond  of  blood. 

The  mingling  of  blood — the  Blood-covenant  as  it  is  called 
— is  a  simple  though  repulsive  rite.  It  is  sufficient  that  an 
incision  be  made  in  the  neophyte's  arm  and  the  flowing 
blood  sucked  from  it  by  one  of  the  clansmen,  upon  whom 
the  operation  is  repeated  in  turn  by  the  neophyte.  Origi- 
nally, perhaps,  all  the  clansmen,  assembled  as  witnesses  if 
not  as  actual  participants  of  the  rite;  and  even  yet  partici- 
pation by  more  than  one  representative  is  frequently  re- 
quired. The  exact  form  is  not  always  the  same.  Sometimes 
the  blood  is  dropped  into  a  cup  and  diluted  with  some 


l86  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

other  drink.  Sometimes  food  eaten  together  is  impregnated 
with  the  blood.  Sometimes  a  species  of  inoculation  is  prac- 
ticed or  it  is  enough  to  rub  the  bleeding  wounds  together, 
so  that  the  blood  of  both  parties  is  mixed  and  smeared  upon 
them  both.  Among  certain  tribes  of  Borneo  the  drops  are 
allowed  to  fall  upon  a  leaf,  which  is  then  made  up  into  a 
cigar  with  tobacco  and  lighted  and  smoked  alternately  by 
both  parties.1  But  whatever  may  be  the  exact  form  adopted 
the  essence  of  the  rite  is  the  same,  and  its  range  is  extraordi- 
narily wide.  It  is  mentioned  by  classical  writers  as  practiced 
by  the  Arabs,  the  Scythians,  the  Lydians  and  Iberians  of  Asia 
Minor  and  apparently  the  Medes.  Many  passages  of  the 
Bible,  many  of  the  Egyptian  Boof^  of  the  Dead,  are  inex- 
plicable apart  from  it.  Odin  and  Loki  entered  into  the  bond, 
which  means  that  it  was  customary  among  the  Norsemen — 
as  we  know  in  fact  from  other  sources.  It  is  recorded  by 
Giraldus  of  the  Irish  of  his  day;  and  it  still  lingered  as  lately 
as  two  hundred  years  ago  among  the  western  islanders  of 
Scotland.  It  is  related  of  the  Huns  or  Magyars  and  of  the 
mediaeval  Roumanians.  Joinville  ascribes  it  to  one  of  the 
tribes  of  the  Caucasus;  and  the  Rabbi  Petachia  of  Ratisbon, 
who  traveled  in  Ukrainia  in  the  twelfth  century,  found  it 
there.  In  modern  times  every  African  traveler  mentions  it; 
many  of  them  have  had  to  undergo  the  ceremony.  In  the 
neighboring  island  of  Madagascar  it  is  well  known.  All  over 
the  eastern  Archipelago,  in  the  Malay  peninsula,  among  the 
Karens,  the  Siamese,  the  Dards  on  the  northern  border  of 
our  Indian  empire  and  many  of  the  aboriginal  tribes  of 
Bengal  and  Central  India,  the  wild  tribes  of  China,  the 
Syrians  of  Lebanon  and  the  Bedouins,  and  among  various 
autochthonous  peoples  of  North  and  South  America,  the 
rite  is  or  has  been  within  recent  times  in  use.2  Nor  has  it 
ceased  to  be  practiced  in  Europe  by  the  Gypsies  and  the 
Southern  Slavs.  In  the  French  department  of  Aube,  when  a 
child  bleeds  he  puts  a  little  of  his  blood  on  the  face  or 
hands  of  one  of  his  playfellows  and  says  to  him:  "Thou 
shah  be  my  cousin."  In  like  manner  in  New  England,  when 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  187 

a  school-girl  not  many  years  since  pricked  her  finger  so 
that  the  blood  came,  one  of  her  companions  would  say: 
"Oh!  let  me  suck  the  blood;  then  we  shall  be  friends/1 
Something  more  than  vestiges  of  the  rite  remains  among 
the  Italians  of  the  Abruzzi.  And  the  band  of  the  Mala  Vita, 
a  society  for  criminal  purposes  in  Southern  Italy  only 
broken  up  a  few  years  ago,  was  a  brotherhood  formed  by 
the  blood-covenant.  Indeed  many  secret  societies  both  civi- 
lized and  uncivilized  have  adopted  an  initiation-rite  of 
which  the  blood-covenant  forms  part,  either  actually  or  by 
symbol  representing  an  act  once  literally  performed. 

That  the  blood-covenant,  whereby  blood-brotherhood  is 
assumed,  is  not  a  primeval  rite  is  obvious  from  its  artificial 
character.  At  the  same  time  its  barbarism  and  the  wide  area 
over  which  it  is  spread  point  with  certainty  to  its  early 
evolution,  and  the  fact  that  it  is  in  union  with  conceptions 
essentially  and  universally  human.  It  has  its  basis  in  ideas 
which  must  have  been  pre-existent.  Even  among  races  like 
the  Polynesians,  and  the  Turanian  inhabitants  of  Northern 
Europe  and  Asia,  where  the  rite  itself  may  not  be  recorded, 
there  are  unmistakable  traces  of  the  influence  of  those  ideas. 
On  the  other  hand  where,  as  among  some  of  the  peoples 
included  above,  it  has  ceased  to  be  used  for  the  purpose  of 
admission  to  a  clan,  the  rite  or  some  transparent  modifica- 
tion of  it,  has  continued  in  use  for  the  reconciliation  of  an- 
cient foes  or  the  solemnization  of  a  specially  binding 
league.3 

In  a  society  organized  by  the  bond  of  blood,  and  where 
descent  is  reckoned  through  females  only,  the  father  is  not 
recognized  as  belonging  to  the  kin  of  the  children.  Among 
matrilineal  peoples  exogamy,  or  marriage  outside  the  kin, 
is  usually  if  not  always  compulsory.  So  far  is  this  carried 
that  the  artificial  tie  of  the  blood-covenant  is  a  barrier  to 
marriage.  When  Cuchulainn  in  the  Irish  saga  of  The 
Wooing  of  Emer  wounded  his  love,  Dervorgil,  in  the  form 
of  a  sea-bird  with  a  stone  from  his  sling,  he  became  her 
blood-brother  by  sucking  from  the  wound  the  stone  with 


l88  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

a  clot  of  blood  round  it.  "I  cannot  wed  thcc  now,"  he  said, 
"for  I  have  drunk  thy  blood.  But  I  will  give  thee  to  my 
companion  here,  Lugaid  of  the  Red  Stripes."  And  so  it  was 
done.4  This  tale  beyond  doubt  reflects  the  custom  among 
the  ancient  Irish.  The  islanders  of  Webar  in  the  East  Indies, 
to  select  only  one  other  example,  represent  even  an  earlier 
stage  in  the  development  of  the  custom.  They  live  in  ham- 
lets the  inhabitants  of  which  are  usually  related  to  one  an- 
other, and  often  at  odds  with  the  inhabitants  of  adjacent 
hamlets.  But  sometimes  these  quarrels  are  made  up  and  a 
blood-covenant  is  entered  into,  after  which  no  intermarriage 
can  take  place.5 

The  alien  position  of  the  father  with  regard  to  his  chil- 
dren, and  consequently  the  small  account  taken  of  him,  has 
never  been  more  vividly  illustrated  than  by  Miss  Kingsley. 
She  relates  that  on  landing  in  French  Congo  she  went  to 
comply  with  the  tiresome  administrative  regulations  by 
reporting  herself  and  obtaining  a  permit  to  reside  in  the 
colony.  While  she  was  waiting  in  the  office  of  the  Directeur 
del  Administration  a  black  man  was  shown  in.  "He  is  clad 
in  a  blue  serge  coat,  from  underneath  which  float  over  a 
pair  of  blue  canvas  trousers  the  tails  of  a  flannel  shirt,  and 
on  his  feet  are  a  pair  of  ammunition  boots  that  fairly  hobble 
him.  His  name,  the  interpreter  says,  is  Joseph.  'Who  is  your 
father?'  says  the  official.  Clerk  interprets  into  trade  English. 
'Fader?'  says  Joseph.  'Yes,  fader,'  says  the  interpreter.  'My 
fader/  says  Joseph.  'Yes,'  says  the  interpreter,  'who's  your 
fader?'  'Who  my  fader?'  says  Joseph.  'Take  him  away  and 
let  him  think  about  it,'  says  the  officer  with  a  sad  sardonic 
smile.  Joseph  is  alarmed  and  volunteers  name  of  mother; 
this  is  no  good;  this  sort  of  information  any  fool  can  give; 
Government  is  collecting  information  of  a  more  recondite 
and  interesting  character.  Joseph  is  removed  by  Senegal 
soldiers,  boots  and  all."6  Nobo'dy  on  the  west  coast  of 
Africa  reckons  descent  through  his  father.  Whether  he 
knows  who  is  his  father  or  not  is  very  often  of  no  conse- 
quence to  his  social  or  legal  position.  The  native  law  of  the 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  189 

Bavili  (and  the  same  is  true  of  other  tribes)  draws  no  dis- 
tinction between  legitimate  and  illegitimate  children. 
"Birth,"  we  are  told  by  a  keen  observer  who  has  lived  for 
many  years  in  intimate  converse  with  the  natives,  "sancti- 
fies the  child"; 7  birth  alone  gives  him  status  as  a  member 
of  his  mother's  family.  The  French  cast-iron  regulations, 
made  for  a  different  race  and  a  different  latitude,  puzzled 
and  confounded  poor  Joseph  by  the  unexpected  and  absurd 
questions  they  required  to  be  put  to  him.  Miss  Kingsley 
sarcastically  observes :  "As  he's  going  to  Boma,  in  the  Congo 
Free  State,  it  can  only  be  for  ethnological  purposes  that  the 
French  government  are  taking  this  trouble  to  get  up  his 
genealogy."  Joseph  does  not  understand  the  French  govern- 
ment any  more  than  the  French  government  understands 
him;  and  he  has  never  traced  his  genealogy  along  those 
lines  before. 

Joseph  was  a  member  of  a  Bantu  tribe;  but  the  case  i< 
the  same  among  the  Negroes.  The  Fanti  of  the  Gold  Coast 
may  be  taken  as  typical.  Among  them,  while  an  intensity  of 
affection,  accounted  for  partly  by  the  fact  that  the  mothers 
have  the  exclusive  care  of  the  children,  is  felt  for  the 
mother,  "the  father  is  hardly  known  or  fisj  disregarded," 
notwithstanding  he  may  be  a  wealthy  and  powerful  man 
and  the  legal  husband  of  the  mother.8  In  North  America 
Charlevoix  says  that  among  the  Algonkin  nations  the 
children  belonged  to  and  only  recognized  their  mother. 
The  father  was  always  a  stranger,  "so  nevertheless  that  if 
he  is  not  regarded  as  father  he  is  always  respected  as  the 
master  of  the  cabin." 9  In  Europe  among  the  Transylvanian 
Gypsies  "a  man  enters  the  clan  of  his  wife,  but  does  not 
really  belong  to  it  until  she  has  borne  a  child.  He  never 
during  his  life  shows  the  slightest  concern  for  the  welfare 
of  his  children,  and  the  mother  has  to  bear  the  whole  bur- 
den of  their  maintenance.  Even  if  the  father  is  living,  the 
son  often  never  knows  him,  nor  even  has  seen  him."13 
Among  the  Orang  Mamaq  of  Sumatra  the  members  of  a 
s:tkj4,  or  clan,  live  together,  and  the  feeling  of  kinship  is 


190  THEMAKINGOFMAN 

very  strong.  As  marriage  within  the  clan  is  forbidden,  hus- 
band and  wife  rarely  dwell  under  one  roof;  when  they  do, 
it  is  because  the  husband  goes  to  the  wife's  home.  But  he 
does  not  become  a  member  of  the  family,  which  consists 
merely  of  the  mother  and  her  children.  The  latter  belong 
solely  to  their  mother's  clan;  the  father  has  no  rights  over 
them;  and  there  is  no  kinship  between  him  and  them.  In 
consequence  of  the  spread  of  foreign  influences  the  true 
family  has  begun  to  develop  in  a  section  of  these  people 
inhabiting  the  district  of  Tiga  Loeroeng.  The  husband  and 
wife  usually  live  together,  but  the  home  is  with  the  wife's 
clan.  Though  the  husband  is  considered  a  member  of  the 
family  he  exercises  little  power  over  the  children.  They 
belong  to  their  mother's  su\u,  and  the  potestas,  as  usual 
in  such  cases,  is  in  the  hands  of  her  eldest  brother.11 

A  corollary  of  the  principle  that  the  father  is  not  akin  to 
his  children  is  that  children  of  the  same  father  by  different 
mothers  are  not  reckoned  as  brothers  and  sisters.  This  is 
the  rule  of  the  Papuan  tribe  settled  about  Mowat  on  the 
Daudai  coast  of  British  New  Guinea,12  and  indeed  wher- 
ever motherright  is  pure  and  uncomplicated  by  rules  which 
prescribe  or  presume  the  marriage  of  two  or  more  sisters 
respectively  to  two  or  more  brothers.  Such  children  may 
accordingly  intermarry.  This  permission  however  some- 
times tends  to  be  restricted,  as  among  the  Bayaka,  of  whom 
we  are  told  that  "marriage  between  children  of  the  same 
mother  is  prohibited;  between  children  of  the  same  father 
it  occurs,  but  is  considered  unseemly." 13  On  the  other  hand 
it  sometimes  persists  for  a  time,  even  a  considerable  time, 
among  patrilineal  peoples.  By  the  laws  of  Athens  children  of 
the  same  father,  but  apparently  not  of  the  same  mother, 
were  allowed  to  intermarry.  The  same  rule  prevailed  in 
Japan.14  According  to  Hebrew  legend  Sarah  was  the  daugh- 
ter of  Abraham's  father,  but  not  of  his  mother.  And  when 
Amnon,  King  David's  son,  sought  to  ravish  his  half-sister 
Tamar,  in  the  course  of  her  protest  and  struggles  she  said: 
"Now  therefore  I  pray  thee,  speak  unto  the  king;  for  he 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  I$I 

will  not  withhold  me  from  thee." 16  That  is:  while  she  re- 
sented the  indignity  offered  by  her  brother  out  of  mere  pass- 
ing lust,  marriage  with  him  would  have  been  legitimate  and 
honorable.  It  is  not  necessary  to  contend  that  these  stories 
are  narratives  of  literal  fact.  There  is  no  trustworthy  evidence 
that  they  are.  At  the  same  time  they  are  of  high  antiquity, 
and  must  have  originated  in  a  social  condition  where  the 
incidents  were  not  so  far  removed  from  daily  life  as  to  be 
incredible  or  even  surprising.  In  that  social  condition  kin- 
ship must  have  been  counted  only  through  the  mother,  or 
matrilineal  having  passed  into  patrilineal  descent  certain 
vestigial  customs  must  have  remained  over  from  the  prior 
stage.  The  incidents  cited  are  therefore  justly  regarded  as 
among  the  witnesses  preserved  to  us  that  before  the  dawn  of 
history  the  ancient  Hebrews  had  traversed  the  stage  of 
motherright. 

Enough  has  now  been  said  to  exhibit  the  alien  position  oc- 
cupied among  matrilineal  peoples  by  the  father  in  regard  to 
his  children.  It  remains  to  complete  the  picture  by  showing 
how  the  duties  of  head  of  the  family  are  fulfilled,  and  in 
whom  the  authority — or,  according  to  the  technical  term, 
the  potestas — is  vested.  Among  many  of  the  African  peo- 
.pies  the  mother's  brother  has  greater  rights  over  a  child 
than  the  father,  and  the  duty  of  blood-revenge  falls  to  him, 
even  against  the  father.  Wherever  progress  has  been  made 
in  the  organization  of  the  family,  and  motherright  is  still 
the  basis  of  organization,  as  over  perhaps  the  greater  part 
of  the  African  continent,  the  supreme  power  is  vested  in 
the  mother's  brother  or  maternal  uncle.  In  Loango  the 
uncle  is  addressed  as  Tate  (father).  He  exercises  paternal 
authority  over  his  nephew,  whom  he  can  even  sell.  The 
father  has  no  power;  and  if  the  husband  and  wife  separate 
the  children  follow  the  mother  as  belonging  to  her  brother. 
They  inherit  from  their  mother;  the  father's  property  on  the 
other  hand  goes  at  his  death  to  his  brother  (by  the  same 
mother)  or  to  his  sister's  sons.16 

The  customs  of  the  peoples  of  the  Lower  Congo  are 


192  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

the  same.  Around  the  missionary  settlement  of  Wathen 
a  woman  is  married  by  means  of  a  bride-price,  the  bulk 
of  which  is  paid  to  her  mother's  family,  though  the  father 
receives  a  portion.  But  the  wife  is  not  bought  as  a  slave 
is  bought.  The  husband  acquires  merely  the  right  to  her 
companionship,  and  in  case  of  her  death  to  another  wife 
in  her  place.  He  has  no  control  over  his  children  by  her. 
They  belong  to  their  mother's  family;  and  as  they  grow 
up  they  go  to'  live  with  their  uncles.17  Among  the  Igalwas 
the  father's  authority  over  his  children  is  very  slight. 
"The  really  responsible  male  relative,"  says  Miss  Kings- 
ley,  "is  the  mother's  eldest  brother.  From  him  must  leave 
to  marry  be  obtained  for  either  girl  or  boy;  to  him  and 
the  mother  must  the  present  be  taken  which  is  exacted 
on  the  marriage  of  a  girl;  and  should  the  mother  die,  on 
him  and  not  on  the  father,  lies  the  responsibility  of  rear- 
ing the  children;  they  go  to  his  house,  and  he  treats  them 
as  nearer  and  dearer  to  himself  than  his  own  children, 
and  at  his  death  after  his  own  brothers  by  the  same 
mother,  they  become  his  heirs."18  Two  kinds  of  mar- 
riage are  known  among  the  Bambala.  The  first  is  child- 
marriage.  "A  little  boy  of  his  own  free  will  may  declare 
that  a  certain  little  girl  is  his  wife;  by  this  simple  act  he 
acquires  a  prescriptive  right  to  her.  He  visits  his  future 
parents-in-law  and  takes  them  insignificant  presents. 
When  he  is  of  mature  age  he  gives  a  larger  present,  of 
the  value  of  about  2000  djimbu  (a  small  shell  of  the 
species  Olivella  Nana),  and  then  he  is  allowed  to  cohabit 
with  her.  Their  children  belong  to  the  eldest  maternal 
uncle.  This  form  of  marriage  is  attended  by  no  special 
ceremony.  If  the  girl,  when  of  age,  is  unwilling,  he  cannot 
coerce  her;  but  if  she  marries  another  man,  the  latter 
must  make  him  a  present  of  several  thousand  djimbu!9 
The  other  form  of  marriage  is  contracted  between  adults. 
The  man  pays  a  bride-price  from  10,000  to  15,000  djimbu 
to  the  father  or  maternal  uncle  of  the  bride.  In  this  case 
the  children  belong  to  the  father;  but  "parents  have  little 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  193 

authority  over  their  children,  who  leave  them  at  a  very 
early  age."  "A  man's  property  is  inherited  by  the  ddest 
son  of  his  eldest  sister,  or  in  default  by  his  eldest  brother." 
The  mother's  brother  is  the  guardian  of  his  sister's  chil- 
dren. Here,  as  we  have  already  seen  reason  to  think, 
fatherright  is  beginning  to  make  inroads  on  the  original 
organization.  This  is  confirmed  by  the  further  statement 
that  "kinship  is  reckoned  very  far  on  the  female  side," 
but  "in  the  male  line  not  beyond  the  uncle  and  grand- 
father,"19 indicating  that  some  kinship  is  now  reckoned 
on  the  paternal  side.  The  Bayaka,  neighbors  of  the 
Bambala,  and  like  them  a  Bantu  people,  dwell  in  small 
villages,  often  consisting  of  not  more  than  two  or  three 
huts,  presided  over  by  a  chief.  "Each  married  woman 
has  a  separate  hut  where  she  lives  with  her  children,  and 
the  husband  moves  from  one  to  the  other;  unmarried 
men  live  together,  several  in  a  hut."  "A  child  belongs  to 
the  village  of  his  maternal  uncle."  The  inhabitants  of  a 
village  regard  themselves  as  akin.  It  is  added  that  "re- 
lationship on  the  female  side  is  considered  closer  than 
that  on  the  male  side." 20  Among  the  Bangala  of  the 
Cassange  Valley  the  chieftainship  is  elective.  This  is  not 
unusual  where  female  kinship  prevails,  for  primogeniture 
has  not  yet  developed,  and  among  a  band  of  equal 
brothers  he  who  has  proved  himself  the  most  capable  is 
often  preferred.  Our  information  as  to  the  Bangala  is 
very  defective.  We  are  told:  "The  chief  is  chosen  from 
three  families  in  rotation.  A  chief's  brother  inherits  in 
preference  to  his  son.  The  sons  of  a  sister  belong  to  her 
brother;  and  he  often  sells  his  nephews  to  pay  his  debts." 21 
It  may  be  said  generally  that  motherright  prevails 
throughout  Angola.  "The  closest  relation  is  that  of 
mother  and  child,  the  next  that  of  nephew  or  niece  and 
uncle  or  aunt.  The  uncle  owns  his  nephews  and  nieces; 
he  can  sell  them,  and  they  are  his  heirs,  not  only  in 
private  property,  but  also  in  the  chief  ship,  if  he  be"  a 
chief." 22  The  father  has,  among  the  Kimbunda,  no  power 


194  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

over  his  children,  even  when  they  are  young.  Only  his 
children  by  slaves  are  considered  his  property  and  can 
inherit  from  him.23 

To  avoid  further  repetition  we  may  leave  the  foregoing 
to  stand  as  examples  of  the  organization  of  the  western 
Bantu.  They  exhibit  the  mother's  brother  or  maternal 
uncle  as  the  head  of  the  family  with  almost  absolute 
power  over  his  sister's  children,  in  which  authority  of  the 
father  is  however  beginning  to  make  breaches.  Among 
the  Negroes  I  have  already  referred  to  the  Alladians.  It 
may  be  added  that  the  eldest  of  the  etiocos,  whether  man 
or  woman,  is  the  head  of  the  family.  Although  during 
the  father's  lifetime  the  children  reside  with  their  mother 
in  his  house,  on  his  death  the  sons  go  to  live  with  their 
mother's  brother,  unless  he  consent  to  her  retaining  them 
while  very  young;  the  daughters  remain  with  her,  but 
under  their  uncle's  tutelage.  Polygamy  prevails,  but  the 
children  of  the  same  father  by  different  mothers  scarcely 
consider  that  there  is  any  tie  between  them.  Marriages 
are  arranged  by  the  etiocos  in  council;  and  apparently  un- 
less the  bride  be  a  mere  child  the  bride-price  is  paid  to 
them.24  The  Ewhe-speaking  peoples  also  trace  kinship 
through  females,  except  the  upper  classes  of  Dahomey, 
among  which  male  kinship  is  the  rule.  "The  eldest  brother 
is  the  head  of  the  family,  and  his  heir  the  brother  next  in 
age  to  himself;  if  he  has  no  brother  his  heir  is  the  eldest 
son  of  his  eldest  sister. . . .  Members  of  a  family  have  a  right 
to  be  fed  and  clothed  by  the  family  head;  and  the  latter 
has  in  his  turn  a  right  to  pawn  and  in  some  cases  to  sell 
them.  The  family  collectively  is  responsible  for  all  crimes 
and  injuries  to  person  or  property  committed  by  any  one 
of  its  members,  and  each  member  is  assessable  for  a  share 
of  the  compensation  to  be  paid.  On  the  other  hand,  each 
member  of  the  family  receives  a  share  of  the  compensation 
paid  to  it  for  any  crime  or  injury  committed  against  the 
person  or  property  of  any  of  its  members.  Compensation  is 
always  demanded  from  the  family  instead  of  from  the  in* 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  195 

dividual  wrong-doer,  and  is  paid  to  the  family  instead  of 
to  the  individual  wronged." 26 

Among  the  Ewhe  of  Anglo  in  Upper  Guinea  the  maternal 
uncle  has  more  authority  over  his  sister's  sons  than  their 
father.  Since  they  succeed  to  him  at  his  death  he  requires 
from  them  labor  and  support  in  his  lifetime.  The  nephew 
accompanies  his  uncle  on  trading  journeys,  carrying  pro- 
visions, cowries,  and  merchandise.  Under  his  uncle's  tuition 
he  thus  gradually  learns  to  trade,  besides  other  useful  work 
such  as  weaving  and  so  forth.  By-and-by  he  begins  to  trade 
on  behalf  of  his  father  or  uncle,  accounts  to  him  for  the 
proceeds  and  receives  a  share  of  the  profit.  And  at  length 
his  father  and  uncle  together  negotiate  a  bride  for  him. 
The  mother  has  naturally  the  charge  and  teaching  of  her 
daughter;  but  the  father  is  consulted  as  to  her  marriage  and 
cheerfully  takes  his  share  of  the  brandy  and  other  gifts 
furnished  by  the  bridegroom.26  The  Fanti  Customary  Laws 
have  been  expounded  by  Mr.  Sarbab,  a  native  barrister,  in 
an  elaborate  treatise  which  throws  much  light  on  the  pres 
ent  condition  of  the  Fanti  family.  Without  discussing  de- 
tails, many  of  which  are  foreign  to  our  present  purpose, 
it  may  be  stated  generally  that  the  Fanti  are  matrilineaL 
The  head  of  the  family  is  usually  (but  not  always)  the  eldest 
male  member  in  the  line  of  descent.  He  has  control  over  all 
the  members;  he  is  their  natural  guardian;  he  alone  can 
sue  or  be  sued,  as  the  representative  of  the  family,  respect- 
ing claims  on  the  family  possessions.  Within  his  compound 
the  head  of  a  family  reigns  supreme  not  only  over  his 
younger  brothers  and  sisters  and  the  children  of  the  latter 
but  also  over  his  own  wives  and  children.  But  he  cannot 
pawn  his  child  without  the  concurrence  of  the  mother's 
relations;  and  children  who  have  left  his  compound  to 
reside  with  their  maternal  uncle  are  no  longer  under  his 
power:  they  are  wholly  subject  to  their  uncle.27  The  Negro 
has  carried  these  customs  in  even  a  more  archaic  form  to 
South  America.  The  Bush  Negro  husband  in  Surinam 
does  not  live  with  his  wife  and  often  has  wives  in  several 


196  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

different  places.  The  maternal  uncle  supplies  his  place  in 
the  family.28 

Turning  now  to  the  true  Negroes  we  find  in  Buna  on 
the  Ivory  Coast  a  social  condition  in  which  fatherright  is 
predominant,  but  has  not  yet  succeeded  in  stamping  out  all 
vestiges  of  the  more  archaic  stage.  The  family  is  strongly 
organized,  its  head  being  the  eldest  male,  who  is  absolute 
master.  All  the  children  born  during  a  marriage  are  the 
husband's  property,  even  those  who  are  the  fruit  of  adultery. 
In  case  of  divorce  where  the  wife  is  known  to  be  pregnant 
the  child  subsequently  born  belongs  to  the  husband;  if, 
however,  her  pregnancy  be  not  then  known  she  retains  the 
child.29  In  Seguela  parentage  runs  in  the  paternal  line  by 
preference,  and  the  family  is  similarly  organized.  Every 
child  born  during  the  marriage  belongs  to  the  husband. 
In  case  of  lengthened  absence  of  the  husband  the  wife  is 
authorized  to  live  in  concubinage  with  another  man,  pref- 
erably a  member  of  the  family.  At  his  return  the  husband 
takes  her  back,  together  with  any  children  born  during  his 
absence.30  The  Krumen  of  Sassandra  reckon  descent  on  both 
sides,  but  we  are  told  that  the  female  side  is  of  little  im- 
portance. The  descendants  of  a  common  ancestor  in  the  male 
line  dwell  together  in  the  same  village  and  form  a  clan.  Since 
polygamy  is  here  as  elsewhere  among  the  Negroes  prac- 
tically unlimited,  infidelity  to  one  wife  leads  to  no  more 
serious  consequence  than  little  tiffs.  Adultery  by  the  wife 
herself  is  hardly  graver,  the  French  official  report  tells  us; 
and  everything  is  comfortably  arranged,  if  she  only  share 
with  her  husband  the  presents  she  has  received  from  her 
lover.  Some  husbands,  indeed,  especially  old  chiefs  who  are 
inclined  to  violence,  revenge  themselves;  but  it  is  rare  to 
find  a  really  jealous  husband.  Sometimes,  but  very  seldom, 
the  husband  demands  a  divorce  when  the  wife  is  thoroughly 
abandoned.  Conformably  with  these  easy-going  morals  the 
law  declares  no  distinction  between  legitimate,  illegitimate, 
and  adulterine  children.  Is  pater  quern  nuptiee  demonstrate 
admits  of  no  exception.  The  husband  is  considered  the 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  197 

father,  even  though  he  has  been  absent  for  ten  years,  of  any 
children  his  wife  may  have  borne  in  the  meantime.81  The 
Krumen  of  Cavally  reckon  descent  only  on  the  male  side. 
There  is  no  distinction  between  legitimate  and  illegitimate 
children.  The  children  are  the  wealth  of  the  family  and 
they  are  always  welcome,  even  when  the  husband  knows 
he  is  not  the  real  father.  They  belong  to  him  in  all  cases. 
He  may  however  inflict  corporal  punishment  on  his  adulter- 
ous wife,  or  even  send  her  back  to  her  family  and  obtain 
repayment  of  the  bride-price.  He  may  also  institute  a  palaver 
against  the  adulterer  for  damages,  which  may  be  settled  if 
he  so  please  by  an  exchange  of  wives.  The  patria  potestas 
vests  in  the  eldest  male  of  the  highest  generation  living,  and 
devolves  with  the  property  on  his  next  brother  at  his  death. 
When  there  are  no  brothers  the  eldest  son  inherits.82  In 
the  foregoing  cases  the  marriage  rites  are  of  the  most  re- 
stricted character.  On  the  other  hand,  among  the  Andoiv 
of  Southern  Nigeria  (if  I  am  right  in  thinking  them 
patrilineal)  an  elaborate  ceremony  is  performed.  Two  stout 
sticks  of  a  certain  wood  called  odiri,  about  four  feet  long, 
are  supplied  by  the  Juju  priests  from  the  sacred  grove.  They 
are  sharpened  at  the  end  and  first  laid  on  the  ground  in  a 
corner  of  the  bridegroom's  house  by  the  priests.  The  bride 
and  bridegroom  are  then  made  to  place  their  feet  on  them. 
The  priest  kills  a  goat  and  sprinkles  its  blood  on  their  feet 
and  on  the  sticks.  The  stakes  are  then  driven  by  their 
sharpened  ends  into  the  ground  in  the  corner  of  the  house, 
and  there  they  remain  until  they  fall  to  pieces.  From  that 
moment  the  wife  and  all  the  children  she  may  bear,  by 
whomsoever  begotten,  are  the  husband's  property.  The  mar- 
riage is  indissoluble.  Even  if  she  leave  her  husband  and 
have  children  by  chiefs  or  kings  they  must  be  delivered  up 
to  him  on  his  demand.  When  she  dies  she  cannot  be  buried 
save  by  him;  any  other  person  undertaking  this  important 
function  would  incur  heavy  punishment;  before  the  days 
of  British  rule  it  was  death.88 
Islam  is  not  necessarily  a  religion  of  high  civilization.  It 


198  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

has  made  extensive  conquests  in  Africa  by  reason  of  its 
power  of  adaptation  to  lower  stages  of  culture.  By  Moham- 
medan law  kinship  is  reckoned  through  both  lines;  but 
such  preponderant  importance  is  attached  to  the  paternal 
side  that  semicivilized  African  populations  professing  Islam 
may  for  our  purpose  be  regarded  as  patrilineal.  Just  as 
among  patrilineal  peoples  where  fatherright  is  carried  out 
to  its  logical  term,  great  importance  is  attributed  to  the 
purity  of  Mohammedan  women.  On  the  other  hand  the 
law,  by  the  aid  of  the  physiological  ignorance  of  the  early 
doctors  who  framed  it,  stretches  beyond  all  probability  the 
presumption  of  legitimacy  in  its  doctrine  of  the  possibility 
of  very  lengthened  gestations.  A  famous  Maghribin  saint 
named  Sidi  Nail  left,  his  home  and  went  on  pilgrimage  to 
Mecca  where  he  abode  for  two  years  and  a  half.  At  length 
he  returned  to  find  that  his  wife  Cheliha  had  only  a  short 
time  before  given  birth  to  a  son.  Even  the  credulity  of  the 
faithful,  supported  by  the  law,  has  had  the  greatest  difficulty 
in  digesting  the  legitimacy  of  this  child.  Yet  the  saint  him- 
self seems  to  have  accepted  him,  and  his  sonship  has  been 
duly  attested  by  heaven;  for  it  is  especially  among  his  de- 
scendants that  the  gift  of  miracles  possessed  by  Sidi  Nail 
has  been  perpetuated.34  In  the  same  way  the  Bayazi,  an 
heretical  sect  of  which  the  bulk  of  the  Arab  population  of 
Zanzibar  consists,  allow  legitimacy  to  children  born  within 
(wo  years  after  the  husband's  death.  The  Shafei,  another  sect, 
extend  the  period  to  four  years.35  Mohammedan  law,  ex- 
aggerated by  these  heretical  sects,  seems  indeed  a  device  for 
gathering  into  the  husband's  kin  all  the  children  of  his  wives 
to  whom  any  semblance  of  a  claim  can  be  made.  Among 
the  Galla  of  northeastern  Africa,  who  are  Moslem,  the 
illegitimate  children  of  a  woman  married  by  the  solemn  rite 
of  the  ralfa  are  legally  descendants  of  the  husband.30 

Customs  similar  to  those  prescribed  in  the  ancient  Indian 
law-books  have  even  been  in  use  in  Europe.  A  Spartan  law 
attributed  to  Lycurgus  required  an  old  man  who  had  a 
young  wife  to  introduce  to  her  a  young  man  whose  bodily 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  199 

and  mental  qualities  he  approved,  that  he  might  beget  chil- 
dren on  her.37  The  primary  object  indeed  of  this  law  of 
others  fathered  on  the  same  law-giver  was  said  to  be  what 
is  called  in  modern  scientific  jargon  Eugenics.  However 
that  may  have  been  as  regards  the  form  in  which  they  are 
reported  to  us,  there  can  be  little  doubt  that  they  are  formu- 
lations of  preexisting  custom  which  enabled  the  continuance 
of  the  husband's  family  by  another  man.  At  all  events  at 
Athens  a  law  ascribed  to  Solon  was  in  force  which  provided 
that  if  the  next-of-kin  who  had  in  accordance  with  law  suc- 
cessfully claimed  an  heiress  for  himself  were  impotent,  his 
place  should  be  supplied  by  some  of  his  ••elatives  (cum 
mariti  adgnatis  concubito).  This  as  McLennan  points  out 
is  identical  with  the  law  of  Manu  cited  above.  In  both  cases 
the  object  was  to  provide  heirs;  and  the  children  took  the 
estate  as  soon  as  they  were  able  to  perform  the  duties  to 
their  legal  ancestors.38  The  old  peasant  custumals  of  Ger- 
many, especially  of  Westphalia,  lay  it  down  that  an  impotent 
husband  shall  perform  the  ceremony  of  taking  his  wife 
on  his  back  over  nine  fences  and  then  calling  a  neighbor 
to  act  as  his  substitute.  If  he  cannot  find  one  who  is  able 
and  willing,  he  is  to  adorn  her  with  new  clothes,  hang  n 
purse  at  her  side  with  money  to  spend  and  send  her  to  a 
fertness,  in  the  hope  of  finding  some  one  there  to  help 
her.39  Grimm,  commenting  on  these  curious  prescriptions, 
admits  that  there  is  no  historical  record  of  any  such  actual 
transaction,  but  observes  that  they  are  plainly  and  seriously 
prescribed  and  that  their  memory  lingers  in  tradition,  in- 
stancing an  old  poem  of  Saint  Elizabeth.  He  suggests  that 
in  the  custumals  all  the  details  are  not  mentioned,  that 
probably  the  rite  was  only  performed  where  serious  detri- 
ment would  result  from  the  want  of  an  heir,  and  that  the 
husband's  choice  of  a  substitute  was  not  unlimited.  In  any 
case  he  holds  the  custom  to  be  very  archaic,  though  in  the 
records  it  appears  adapted  to  the  circumstances  of  mediaeval 
peasant-proprietors. 
The  foregoing  examples  are  all  chosen  from  peoples 


200  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

among  whom  fatherright  is  the  rule,  or  who  deduce  kinship 
through  both  parents  with  preference  for  the  father,  as  in 
the  highest  civilization.  Where  these  customs  are  in  vogue 
the  husband  cannot  be  sure  of  the  paternity  of  the  children 
born  of  his  wife.  On  the  contrary  he  is  often  sure  that  the 
children  belonging  to  him,  reckoned  of  his  kin  and  inherit- 
ing his  property,  are  not  in  fact  heirs  of  his  body.  They  may 
even  be  born  long  after  his  death  as  the  result  of  intercourse 
between  his  wives  and  other  men.  The  list  might  be  in- 
definitely lengthened  if  the  customs  of  peoples  among  whom 
fatherright  though  predominant  is  imperfectly  developed 
were  considered.  Thus  in  Madagascar  motherright  has  left 
much  more  than  traces.  The  hindrances  on  marriage  of 
relatives  are  greater  on  the  mother's  side  than  on  the  father's. 
Children  of  two  sisters  by  the  same  mother  cannot  inter- 
marry, nor  can  their  descendants.  On  the  other  hand  chil- 
dren and  grandchildren  of  a  brother  and  sister  by  the  same 
mother  may  intermarry  on  the  performance  of  a  slight  cere- 
mony prescribed  to  remove  the  disqualification  of  con- 
sanguinity. The  royal  family  and  nobles  trace  their  lineage, 
contrary  to  the  general  practice,  through  the  mother  and 
not  through  the  father.  Yet  so  great  a  calamity  is  it  counted 
that  a  man  should  die  without  posterity  that  if  an  elder 
brother  die  childless  his  next  brother  must  take  the  widow 
and  raise  up  seed  to  the  deceased.40  This  involves  sexual 
relations  only  after  the  husband's  death  between  the  widow 
and  his  brother.  But  the  Malagasy  customs  are  further- 
reaching  still;  for  all  the  children  of  a  married  woman  be- 
long to  her  husband,  whoever  may  beget  them.  Divorce  is 
a  frequent  occurrence  and  for  trivial  causes.  When  it  takes 
place,  not  only  are  the  children  previously  born  retained 
by  the  husband,  but  any  whom  the  wife  may  afterwards 
bear  to  another  man  belong  to  the  husband  who  has  divorced 
her.  And  he  hastens  to  secure  them  by  taking  a  present  to 
each  one  as  it  is  born;  a  ceremony  which  appears  to  con- 
stitute a  formal  claim  to  them.  In  the  ceremony  of  divorce 
.the  husband's  final  word  to  his  wife  is  an  injunction  to 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  201 

remember  that  though  she  is  now  at  liberty  to  marry  any 
one  else,  all  her  future  children  will  belong  to  him,  the 
husband  divorcing  her.41 

Motherright  then  is  found  not  merely  where  paternity  is 
uncertain,  but  also  where  it  is  practically  certain.  Father* 
right  on  the  other  hand  is  found  not  merely  where  paternity 
is  certain,  but  also  where  it  is  uncertain  and  even  where  the 
legal  father  is  known  not  to  have  begotten  the  children. 
Nay,  the  institutions  of  fatherright  often  require  provision 
for,  and  very  generally  permit,  the  procreation  by  other  men 
of  children  for  the  nominal  father.  It  follows  therefore  thaf 
the  uncertainty  of  paternity  cannot  be  historically  the  reason 
for  the  reckoning  of  descent  exclusively  through  the  mother. 
Some  other  reason  must  be  discovered. 

NOTES 

1  Rotji,  Sarawak,  ii,  206. 

2  So  far  as  I  am  aware  it  is  expressly  recorded  only  of  the  Seminoles 
in  North  America  (Feathcrman,  Aoneo-Mar.,  172),  a  tribe  in  Yucatan  and 
a  tribe  in  Brazil   (Frumbull,  54,  55,  citing  authorities);  but  practices  in 
other  tribes  point  to  the  underlying  idea. 

8  There  is  one  doubtful  account  of  its  use  among  the  descendants  of 
Genghis  Khan  for  this  purpose  (sec  the  passage  quoted  and  commented 
on  by  M.  Rene  Basset,  Rev.  Trad.  Prop.,  x,  176).  As  to  the  subject  gen- 
erally, sec  Robertson  Smith  (Kinship;  and  Rel.  Sent.);  Trumbull,  The 
Blood  Covenant  (London,  1887);  Strack,  Das  Blut  (Munchcn,  1900). 

4  Eleanor  Hull,  The  Cuchullin  Saga,  82. 

8  Riedel,  446. 

6  Kingsley,  Trav.,  109. 

7  Dennett,  Journ.  Afr.  Soc.,  i,  265. 

8  J.  A.  I.,  xxvi,  145. 

9  Charlevoix,  Histoire  de  la  Nouvclle  France,  v,  424. 

10  Potter,  1 1 6,  citing  von  Wlislocki,  Vom  wandernde  Zigeunervolfa. 

11  Bijdragen,  xxxix,  43,  44. 

12  Haddon,  /.  A.  L,  xix,  467.  The  Yorubas  of  the  Slave  Coast  of  West 
Africa  now  reckon  descent  through  the  father.  They  perhaps  owe  the 
change  to  intercourse  with  the  Mohammedan  tribes  of  the  interior.  Be  this 
as  it  may,  so  strong  even  yet  is  the  influence  of  uterine  kinship  that 
children  of  the  same  father  by  different  mothers  are  by  many  natives  hardly 
considered  true  blood -relations  (Ellis,  Yoruba,  176). 

18 /.  A.  L,  xxxvi,  45;  14.  McLennan,  Studies,  i,  223,  quoting  the  Leges 
Attica. 

14  Rev.  Hist.  Rel,  i,  328,  note;  Aston,  Shinto,  249.  Traces  arc  also 
found  among  the  Slavs  (Kovalevsky,  13). 

10  Gen.  xx,  12;  2  Sam.,  xiii,  13. 


202  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

16Bastian,  Loango-Kuste,  i,   166. 

17  Bentley,  li,  333. 

18  Kingslcy,  Trav.,  224. 

19 /.  A.  /.,  xxxv,  410,  411. 

20  Ibid.,  xxxvi,  43,  45. 

21  Livingstone,  Miss.  Trav.,  434. 
22Chatelain,  8. 

23  Post,  Ajr.  Jur.,  i,  23,  citing  Magyar. 

24  Clozcl,  391,  392,  393,  394,  397.  As  to  the  Yoruba  and  the  Egbas  see 
Allis,  Yornha,  176;  Journ.  A/r.  Soc.,  i,  88. 

28  Ellis,  Ewhc,  207,  208,  209. 
™Zeits.  f.  EthnoL,  xxxviii,  43. 

27  Sarbab,  5,  9,  31,  39,  50,  86. 

28  Potter,   115,  citing  Zeits.  vergl.  Rechtsw.,  xi,  420. 
29Clo7cl,  308-312. 

30M/V/.,  330,  331.  Women  may  inherit  in  certain  cases  (Id.,  335). 

31  Ibid.,  495,  497,  498. 

82  Ibid.,  507,  511,  512,  515. 

33  Jotirn.  A/r.  Soc.,  iv,  414;  Leonard,  414. 

**Rev.  Hist.  Pel.,  xh,  315. 

35  Burton,  Zanzibar,  i,  403. 

36  Paulitschke,  ii,  142.  As  to  the  ra^k°  see  Ibid.,  47.  .  am  not  aware 
<  vhether  the  Boni,  a  subject  people  among  the  Galla   and   Somali,  are 
Mohammedans,  or  whether  they  arc,  as  has  been  suggested,  of  Galla  origin. 
1  'There  is  no  divorce  among  these  people,  all  the  children  of  one  woman, 
l»y  whatever  father,  are  the  property  of  the  woman's  original  husband,  if 
Jive;  if  dead,  of  her  brother"  (Capt.  Salkeld,  Man,  1905,  169,  par.  94). 

37Xcnophon,  Rep.  Laced.,  i,  9;   Plutarch,  Lycttrgus. 

38  Plutarch,  Solon;  McLennan,  Studies,  i,  223;  Seebohm,  Gree\  Tribal 
"Soc.,  23. 

39  Grimm,  Rechtsall,  443.  The  details  of  the  ceremony  vary  in  different 
places. 

40  Ellis,  i,  164;  Sibree,  246. 

41  Verbal  information  to  me  by  Rev.  T.  Rowlands,  L.M.S.,  Missionary 
|o  the  Betsileo.  The  information  does  not  agree  with  that  in  Ellis,  Hist. 
\Aad.t  i,  173.  Possibly  the  latter  refers  to  (or  includes)  children  of  tender 
•»  ge  who  are  necessarily  left  with  their  mother  for  the  time. 


GROUP-MARRIAGE 
AND  SEXUAL  COMMUNISM* 

By  ROBERT  BRIFFAULT 

IT  is  a  widespread  principle  in  uncultured  societies  thai 
when  a  man  marries  a  woman  he  thereby  acquires  marital 
rights  over  all  her  sisters.  Thus  in  Australia,  on  the  Penne- 
feather  and  Tully  Rivers  in  Queensland,  a  man  is  under 
stood  to  have  the  same  sexual  rights  over  all  his  wife's 
sisters  as  over  his  wife,  whether  they  happen  to  be  married 
to  other  men  or  not.  Among  the  Kurnai  of  South-East 
Australia,  when  a  man  obtains  a  wife  from  another  tribe 
by  eloping  with  her,  her  parents,  after  their  anger  has 
blown  over  and  the  matter  has  been  amicably  settled,  hand 
over  her  sister  also  to  their  son-in-law.  Among  the  tribes 
of  Gippsland,  the  men  cannot  be  made  to  understand  the 
distinction  between  a  wife  and  a  sister-in-law — the  latter, 
they  insist,  are  just  as  much  their  wives  as  the  former.  In 
Western  Australia,  "where  there  are  several  sisters  of  a 
family,  they  are  all  regarded  as  the  wives  of  the  man  who 
marries  the  eldest  of  them."  In  Melanesia,  it  is  likewise  a 
general  usage  that  when  a  man  takes  one  woman  as  his 
individual  partner,  he  thereby  becomes  the  husband  of  all 
her  actual  sisters.  So  also  in  the  western  islands  of  Torres 
Straits,  before  the  conversion  of  the  natives  to  Christianity, 
a  man's  wives  were  all  sisters  or  cousins,  and  even  at  the 
present  day  a  man,  there  is  little  doubt,  normally  has  marital 
relations  with  all  his  wife's  sisters.  The  traditional  tales  ol' 
the  natives  of  northern  New  Guinea  represent  a  man  as 

*  The  Mothers.  New  York:  Tlie  Macmillan  Co.  Because  of  pressu'r* 
for  space,  it  was  necessary  to  omit  the  voluminous  references  with  which 
Briffault  documents  his  work.  The  references  can  all  be  secured  in  thi| 
chapter  in  BrifTault's  three- volume  study.  [Editor.] 

203 


204  THEMAKINGOFMAN 

being  married  as  a  matter  of  course  to  all  the  sisters  of  his 
wife.  Like  the  rule  of  cross-cousin  marriage,  the  principle 
is  a  translation  in  terms  of  family-relationship  of  the  sexual 
claim  of  a  man  to  all  the  women  of  the  group  with  which 
his  own  group  has  entered  into  a  marriage  agreement. 

Among  the  North  American  tribes  it  was  an  almost  uni- 
versal rule  that  when  a  man  married  a  woman  he  thereby 
acquired  marital  rights  over  her  sisters.  For  example,  among 
the  Ojibwa  "it  was  usual  for  them,  when  an  Indian  married 
one  of  several  sisters,  to  consider  himself  as  wedded  to  all; 
and  it  became  incumbent  upon  him  to  take  them  all  as 
wives."  Among  the  Pawnees  "a  man,"  says  Murray,  "having 
married  the  elder  sister  has  a  right  to  marry  all  the  younger 
ones  as  they  successively  attain  puberty.  Nor  is  this  at  all 
unusual;  on  the  contrary  it  is  a  common  practice."  "It  is 
a  custom,"  says  a  missionary,  "that  when  a  savage  asks  ,1 
girl  in  marriage  and  gets  her  to  wife,  not  only  she,  but  all 
her  sisters  belong  to  him  and  are  regarded  as  his  wives." 
Among  the  Natchez,  when  a  man  marries  a  woman,  "if 
she  has  many  sisters  he  marries  them  all,  so  that  nothing 
is  more  common  than  to  see  four  or  five  sisters,  the  wives 
of  a  single  husband."  Similarly,  among  the  tribes  of  Cali- 
fornia "the  common  custom  is  when  a  man  marries  that 
he  takes  the  whole  of  the  sisters  for  wives."  The  custom 
"prevailed  from  the  earliest  ages  among  all  the  Dacota 
family  as  well  as  among  the  Algonkin  and  other  tribes  of 
the  Great  Lakes."  Morgan  found  it  in  operation  in  forty 
different  tribes,  and  it  has  been  reported  of  practically  every 
tribe  of  the  North  American  continent. 

The  usage  appears  to  have  been  equally  general  in  Central 
and  South  America.  Thus  among  the  natives  of  New 
Granada  it  was  customary  for  a  man  to  marry  all  his  wife's 
sisters.  Among  the  Caribs,  "very  often  the  same  man  will 
take  to  wife  three  or  four  sisters,  who  will  be  his  cousins- 
german  or  his  nieces."  In  British  Guiana  and  among  the 
tribes  of  the  Orinoco  a  man  commonly  had  three  sisters 
living  with  him  as  his  wives.  Among  the  Araucanians, 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  205 

"when  an  -ndian  is  able  to  obtain  several  sisters  together 
as  wives,  they  prefer  it  to  marrying  women  who  are  not 
related  to  one  another,  because  this  accords  with  their 
laws."  Among  the  tribes  of  the  Amazon  and  Rio  Negro  a 
man  commonly  married  all  the  sisters  of  a  family.  Among 
the  Canebo  of  the  Upper  Amazon  "a  man  must  marry  all 
the  sisters  of  the  family  as  soon  as  they  are  old  enough"; 
and  the  same  obligation  is  imposed  upon  the  Jivaros.  Among 
the  Guaranis,  the  men  "often  marry  several  sisters."  So 
also  among  all  the  tribes  of  the  Gran  Chaco  "a  man  has 
frequently  two  or  more  sisters  as  wives  at  the  same  time." 
The  Chriguanos  commonly  marry  two  sisters.  Among  the 
Fuegians  it  was  customary  for  a  man  to  marry  several 
sisters. 

Among  the  Guanches  of  the  Canary  Islands  it  was  cus- 
tomary for  a  man  to  marry  several  sisters.  The  practice  is 
very  common  in  Africa,  more  especially  among  the  more 
primitive  races  and  in  those  whose  social  organization  has 
undergone  least  modification.  Among  the  Bushmen  of  the 
Kalahari  a  man  usually  marries  several  sisters  or  female 
cousins,  that  is,  tribal  sisters.  The  custom  is  an  old  established 
principle  among  all  the  Kaffirs  of  South  Africa  and  is  very 
regularly  observed  by  the  Zulus.  Among  the  eastern  South 
African  tribes  of  Mozambique  a  man  has  a  claim  to  his 
wife's  sisters  as  they  reach  maturity;  and  among  the  natives 
of  Portuguese  East  Africa  a  man  has  a  recognized  right 
over  all  his  wife's  sisters,  though  the  practice  is  said  to  be 
falling  into  disuse  at  the  present  day.  Similarly,  among  the 
Herero  of  western  South'  Africa  a  man  cannot  marry  a 
younger  sister  without  marrying  her  elder  sister  also.  Sororal 
polygyny  is  observed  as  a  matter  of  course  by  the  tribes  of 
the  Upper  Congo.  Among  the  Ba-Congo  "a  man  who  has 
bought  a  woman  has  thereby  a  right  to  all  her  marriageable 
sisters  in  turn.  To  what  extent  a  man  would  exercise  the 
right  it  is  difficult  to  say,  but  in  theory  he  could  go  on  "as 
long  as  there  remained  an  eligible  girl  in  the  family."  Sororal 
polygyny  has  been  reported  among  the  Bangala,  and  the 


'^0  J  THE    MAKING     OF    MAN 

Wabemba.  In  East  Africa,  among  the  Basoga,  the  bride 
is  accompanied  to  .her  husband's  home  by  a  sister,  who 
joins  the  household  as  a  secondary  wife.  Among  the  Bagesu 
of  Uganda  it  is  usual  for  a  man  to  marry  all  his  wife's 
sisters,  and  the  same  is  the  practice  of  the  Banyoro.  Among 
the  tribes  of  Kavirondo  the  younger  sisters  of  a  man's  wife 
join  her  as  they  become  of  age.  The  same  usages  are  ob- 
served by  the  tribes  df  northern  Nigeria,  and  of  the  French 
Sudan. 

The  practice  of  sororal  polygyny  is  usual  among  the  more 
primitive  races  of  Siberia,  such  as  the  Chukchi,  the  Kam- 
chadals,  the  Ostyak.  It  is  an  old-fashioned  custom  among 
both  the  eastern  Mongols  and  the  western  Mongols,  or  Kal- 
muks.  Jinghis  Khan  married  two  sisters,  and  the  practice  was 
taken  for  granted  among  his  warriors  and  khans.  The  same 
usage  was  observed  in  ancient  times  by  the  Chinese.  We  read 
of  the  famous  emperor  Yao  bestowing  both  his  daughters  on 
the  Chinese  prince  Shuenn,  and  accompanying  them  him- 
self with  great  formality  on  their  journey  to  their  appointed 
bridegroom,  bidding  them  to  "fulfill  all  their  duties  with 
respect  and  diligence  in  the  home  of  their  husband."  In 
a  Chinese  novel  the  hero  is  rewarded  for  his  exemplary 
virtue  by  his  protector  bestowing  upon  him  the  hands  of 
both  his  daughters.  The  same  usage  obtained  among  the 
ancient  Japanese:  "to  wed  two  or  more  sisters  at  the  same 
time  was  a  recognized  practice."  We  find  the  same  practice 
in  Tibet.  Among  the  primitive  Moi  of  Indo-China  it  is 
usual  to  take  the  first  wife's  sisters  as  co-wives;  and  the 
same  usage  is  observed  in  Cambodia.  It  is  likewise  the 
custom  in  Siam.  Among  the  Malays  of  the  Patani  States  the 
most  common  form  of  polygny  is  the  simultaneous  marriage 
of  several  sisters.  The  custom  prevails  among  the  tribes  of 
Upper  Burma  and  of  Manipur.  It  is  observed  by  the  Garos 
of  Assam.  Sororal  polygyny  was  in  vogue  among  the  an- 
cient Indo-Aryans;  one  of  the  most  illustrious  of  the  Rishis 
is  reported  to  have  married  no  less  than  ten  sisters  at  the 
«ame  time.  The  practice  is  common  in  the  Panjab.  We  find 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  20J 

it  among  the  tribes  of  the  Rajmahal  Hills,  and  among  the 
Gonds,  and  it  prevails  among  several  other  native  tribes  of 
Central  India.  It  is  likewise  prevalent  in  Mysore  and  South- 
ern India.  We  know  from  the  account  of  the  marriage  of 
Jacob  that  it  was  a  recognized  usage  among  the  ancient 
Jews. 

In  Ceram  in  a  polygynous  family  the  wives  are  almost 
invariably  sisters;  and  in  Central  Celebes  a  man  cannot 
marry  a  younger  sister  unless  he  first  marries  the  elder. 
In  the  Philippine  Islands  a  man  usually  took  as  wives  all 
the  sisters  of  a  family.  The  same  practice  is  common  among 
the  Negritos  of  Zambales.  In  the  Marshall  Islands  "when 
a  man  marries  a  woman  he  is  regarded  as  married  to  all 
her  sisters."  The  same  view  obtains  in  the  Gilbert  Islands, 
and  among  the  Mortlock  Islanders.  In  the  Kingsmill  or 
Line  Islands,  "if  a  woman  has  sisters,  then  the  sisters  become 
the  wives  of  her  husband  on  her  own  marriage,  and  no 
other  man  can  ever  take  them  as  wives."  According  to  the 
same  authority,  if  the  husband  does  not  find  it  convenient 
to  take  charge  of  all  the  sisters,  there  is  no  alternative  for 
the  latter  than  to  contract  casual  alliances;  they  become, 
in  fact,  what  we  should  call  prostitutes. 

In  New  Zealand  it  was  common  for  a  man  when  he 
married  a  woman  to  take  her  sisters  also.  When  the  sailor 
Rutherford,  who  was  adopted  into  a  Maori  tribe,  was  re- 
quested to  select  a  wife,  the  father  of  the  young  woman 
called  her  sister,  and  he  "advised  me,"  says  Rutherford, 
"to  take  them  both."  In  Samoa  "it  was  a  common  practice 
in  the  old  days  for  a  woman  to  take  her  sister  or  sisters  with 
her,  and  these  became  practically  the  concubines  of  her  hus- 
band." It  does  not  appear,  however,  to  be  quite  correct  to 
call  them  "concubines"  for  each  younger  sister  brought  her 
dowry  with  her  in  the  same  manner  as  her  elder  sister. 
If  a  sister  was  not  available,  the  wife  brought  with  her  a 
cousin  or  some  other  near  relative.  Even  long  after  the 
conversion  of  the  natives  to  Christianity  it  was  considered 
that  the  husband  of  the  elder  sister  had  the  (disposal  of  the 


208  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

younger  sisters,  and  intending  suitors  applied  to  him  and 
not  to  her  parents.  Similarly,  in  the  Hervey  Islands  a  bride 
was  followed  to  her  husband's  home  by  all  her  sisters,  who 
became  his  co-wives.  In  the  Marquesas  a  man  had  marital 
rights  over  all  his  wife's  sisters,  whether  these  married  other 
men  or  not. 

The  same  causes  which  tend  to  limit  every  kind  of 
polygamy  restrict  sororal  polygyny  in  practice;  it  is  some- 
times a  severe  strain  on  a  man's  resources  to  marry  a  whole 
family.  That  difficulty  is,  however,  often  relieved  by  the 
fact  that,  since  in  primitive  society  girls  usually  marry  at 
puberty,  the  younger  sisters  are  not  marriageable  at  the  time 
of  their  elder  sisters'  marriage;  and  by  that  time  the  man's 
circumstances  may  have  improved  so  as  to  enable  him  to 
maintain  a  larger  family.  From  those  usages  follows  the 
rule  which  is  observed  in  most  parts  of  the  world,  that  it 
is  unlawful  for  a  younger  sister  to  be  married  before  her 
elder  sister.  That  rule,  on  which  Laban  insisted  when  he 
gave  his  daughters  to  Jacob,  namely  that  "it  must  not  be 
done  so  in  our  country  to  give  the  younger  sister  before  the 
first-born,"  is  a  matter  of  fundamental  morality,  not  only  in 
most  of  the  lower  phases  of  culture,  but  in  societies  so 
highly  civilized  as  that  of  China,  and  it  has  left  traces  at  the 
present  day  even  in  England  and  in  Scotland. 

If  the  husband  does  not  wish,  or  cannot  afford,  to  exercise 
his  claim  on  his  wife's  sisters,  he  allows  them  to  marry  other 
men,  but  in  order  to  do  so  his  consent  is  necessary;  when  a 
bride-price  is  due  it  is  sometimes  to  him  and,  not  to  the 
girl's  relatives  that  it  is  paid.  An  additional  sister  is  given  as 
a  matter  of  course  if  the  first  sister  proves  barren;  the 
younger  sister  either  replacing  her,  or  joining  her  in  her 
husband's  household.  The  woman  whom  a  man  has  mar- 
ried may  be  exchanged  for  another  sister  for  no  other  reason 
than  incompatibility  of  temper,  or  simply  because  the  man 
wishes  it.  Of  the  Indians  of  the  Oregon,  for  example,  it  is 
remarked  that  "the  parents  do  not  seem  to  object  to  a 
man's  turning  off  one  sister  and  taking  a  younger  one/' 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  20g 

that  prerogative  being  "a  custom  handed  down  from  time 
immemorial."  In  Australia,  however,  among  the  Gourn- 
ditch-mara,  if  a  man  has  repudiated  his  wife  he  loses  his 
claim  to  her  sisters,  being  regarded  as  having  divorced  the 
whole  family.  Among  the  Tartars,  if  the  wife  dies  before 
the  payment  of  the  bride-price  is  completed,  the  sum  already 
paid  goes  toward  the  acquisition  of  her  sister;  but  if  there 
is  no  sister  to  take  the  wife's  place  the  whole  of  the  deposit 
is  lost.  In  other  instances  the  husband  or  bridegroom  may 
demand  a  refund  of  the  bride-price,  should  the  family  refuse 
to  supply  the  widower  with  another  wife.  A  deceased  wife's 
sister  is  supplied  to  the  widower  without  extra  payment,  or 
at  a  reduced  rate.  Among  the  Kalmuks  the  right  to  marry 
a  deceased  wife's  sister  is  regarded  as  a  claim  which  a  man 
is  entitlecLto  enforce.  Should  the  father  be  unwilling  to 
yield  the  younger  sister  to  the  widower,  the  latter  calls  on. 
him,  places  bread  and  salt  on  the  table,  whereupon  the 
father  is  held  bound  to  give  up  the  younger  sister.  Among 
the  Kirghis  failure  to  hand  over  the  deceased  wife's  si.stei 
is  an  offense  punishable  by  law.  So  strong  is  the  claim  that 
among  the  Flat-heads  and  other  Oregon  tribes,  if  the  de- 
ceased wife's  sister  is  already  married  to  another  man,  she. 
is  obliged  to  leave  him  and  marry  the  widower.  Among  the 
Wabemba  of  the  Congo,  if  a  man's  wife  dies,  and  all  her 
sisters  are  married,  the  husband  of  one  of  them  must  allow 
his  wife  to  cohabit  for  one  or  two  nights  with  the  widower, 
Unless  this  is  done  the  latter  cannot  marry  another  woman, 
The  same  rule  is  observed  by  the  Baholoholo;  so  essential 
is  the  observance  accounted  that  if  the  surviving  sister  be  a 
mere  infant,  the  widower  goes  through  the  form  of  imitat- 
ing the  sexual  act  and  pretending  to  have  connection  with 
the  infant,  although  he  does  not  marry  her.  In  the  last  in- 
stances the  usage  of  sororal  succession  has  become  a  mere 
ritual.  We  shall  see  that  similar  ritual  survivals  abound  in 
relation  to  the  corresponding  custom  of  fraternal  succession,, 
or  the  levirate.  The  observance  of  the  ritual  derives  its  obliga« 
tory  or  beneficial  character  from  its  formal  conformity  with 


1 .  )  T  H  E    M  A  K  I  N  G    O  F    M  A  X 

established  custom;  for  to  comply  with  an  established  cus- 
tom is  always  lucky,  and  to  omit  its  observance  unlucky. 
With  the  Wabemba,  when  the  sister  happens  to  be  an  in- 
fant she  is  nevertheless  handed  over  to  the  widower,  but 
a  slave-girl  is  sent  with  her  to  act  as  a  substitute  until  the 
girl  grows  to  nubile  age.  Similarly  among  the  Assiniboins 
if,  when  a  man's  wife  dies,  her  sister  is  still  immature,  she 
is  kept  for  him  until  she  attains  puberty.  The  same  rule 
as  to  age  must,  however,  be  observed  in  marrying  a  de- 
ceased wife's  sister  as  when  marrying  her  during  the  wife's 
lifetime.  Thus  among  the  Kaikari  of  central  India,  a  man 
may  marry  his  deceased  wife's  younger  sister,  but  may  not 
njarry  her  elder  sister. 

Marriage  with  a  deceased  wife's  sister  is  sometimes  re- 
garded in  the  light  of  a  moral  obligation  rather  than  as  a 
claim  or  privilege.  Thus  the  Iroquois  widower  who  failed 
to  do  so  was  subjected  to  such  abuse  on  the  part  of  the 
insulted  lady  that  he  seldom  failed  to  comply.  Among  the 
Shuswap  of  British  Columbia  the  widower  was  actually 
kept  a  prisoner  by  the  deceased  wife's  family  until  the  period 
of  mourning  was  over,  and  was  released  from  his  imprison- 
ment on  condition  only  that  he  married  the  deceased  lady's 
sister.  On  the  island  of  Engano  the  widower  who  failed  to 
marry  his  deceased  wife's  sister  was  punished  with  a  heavy 
fine.  The  abnormal  notion  that  it  is  reprehensible  to  marry 
one's  deceased  wife's  sister  is  a  rare  anthropological  curiosity 
which  appears  to  be  found  only  among  the  natives  of  New 
Britain,  some  Chinese  tribes,  and  some  natives  of  Ashanti. 

The  rule  that  when  a  man's  wife  dies  he  marries  her  sister, 
which  is  often  the  only  survival  of  sororal  polygyny,  is  thus 
clearly  an  attenuated  relic  of  the  widespread  claim  of  a 
man  to  all  the  sisters  of  a  family  when  he  marries  one  of 
them,  and  it  would  be  difficult  to  find  any  two  social  facts 
the  connection  between  which  is  so  manifest  and  so  fully 
exhibited  by  every  possible  transition  and  similarity  in  the 
mode  of  their  observance.  Nevertheless,  in  accordance  with 
an  even  more  general  rule,  those  people  who  observe  the 


SOCIAL    ORGANi::,.'*     ')?.  21\ 

rule  of  marrying  their  deceased  wife's  sisK-r,  but  who  have 
given  up  simultaneous  sororal  polygyny,  do  not  admit  that 
they  at  present  practice  the  former  custom  because  they 
once  practiced  the  latter,  and  that  their  present  usage  is 
derived  from  one  which  they  now  condemn,  but  justify 
their  practice  by  independent  considerations  of  sentiment  or 
expediency.  Thus  the  natives  of  the  Hervey  Islands,  who 
until  quite  lately  practiced  as  a  matter  of  course  sororal 
polygyny,  are  all  at  the  present  day  good  Christians  and 
their  heathen  customs  have  entirely  ceased;  but  "a  woman 
feels  herself  to  be  deeply  injured  if  her  brother-in-law  does 
not,  on  the  death  of  his  wife,  ask  her  to  become  a  mother 
to  his  children."  Similarly,  some  Omaha  Indians,  among 
whom  sororal  polygyny  was  a  time-honored  practice,  but 
who  now  conform  to  Christian  usages,  are  reported  to  sub- 
mit that  marriage  of  a  deceased  wife's  sister  is  expedient 
because  "the  children  bereft  of  their  own  mother . .  .would 
come  under  the  care  of  her  close  kindred,  ?nd  not  (all  into 
the  hands  of  a  stranger,"  or  that  the  usage  "shows  a  respect 
for  the  dead."  In  like  manner  writers  on  anthropological 
subjects  to  whom  the  application  of  the  theory  of  evolution 
to  the  human  race  is  repugnant,  have  no  hesitation  in  de- 
claring that  they  cannot  "find  any  reason  for  the  assumption 
that  the  custom  of  marrying  a  deceased  wife's  sister  is  de- 
rived from  the  custom  of  marrying  her  other  sister  in  her 
lifetime." 

The  peoples  who  practice  sororal  polygyny  and  the  mis- 
sionaries and  other  writers  who  interpret  their  customs  have 
likewise  good  reasons  to  offer  for  the  origin  and  observance 
of  the  usage.  The  favorite  explanation  given  by  travelers 
and  missionaries  who  report  the  custom  as  a  peculiarity  of 
the  peoples  they  are  describing  is  that  it  is  desirable  in  a 
polygynous  family  that  the  wives  should  be  sisters,  because 
sisters  are  more  likely  to  live  together  in  harmony.  The 
wives  of  an  American  Indian  are  said  to  live  together  "in 
the  greatest  harmony."  If,  however,  a  man  marries  into 
two  different  families,  "the  wives,"  it  is  alleged,  "do  not 


212  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

harmonize  well  together,  and  give  the  husband  much  in- 
quietude." But  there  is  an  overwhelming  mass  of  testimony 
to  the  perfect  harmony  obtaining  between  wives  in  polyg- 
ynous  families,  whether  the  wives  be  sisters  or  not.  Where 
polygyny  obtains,  the  women  are  the  most  persistent  ad- 
vocates of  the  practice,  and  additional  wives  are  in  most 
instances  acquired  at  the  'desire  of  a  man's  wife  or  wives, 
and  are  very  commonly  selected  by  them.  There  is  nothing 
to  indicate  that  the  wives  in  a  polygynous  family  arc  more 
prone  to  quarrel  among  themselves  than  other  persons  who 
live  together,  or  that  wives  who  arc  sisters  are  less  liable 
to  disagree  than  those  who  are  not.  In  contradiction  to  the 
assumption  of  several  writers,  La  Potherie  asserts  that  sisters 
among  the  North  American  Indians  arc  often  particularly 
quarrelsome,  and  that  their  disputes  are  sometimes  so  lively 
that  they  attack  one  another  with  knives.  The  value  of  the 
psychological  suppositions  as  to  the  greater  harmony  be- 
tween wives  who  are  sisters  offered  by  uncultured  peoples 
when  pressed  to  account  for  their  customs,  is  pointedly 
illustrated  by  the  opinion  of  the  Ostyak  on  the  subject.  Al- 
though it  is  their  immemorial  custom  to  marry  several  sis- 
ters, and  they  say  that  the  observance  of  the  usage  brings 
luck,  they  nevertheless  state  that  the  arrangement  is  un- 
satisfactory and  that  they  would  prefer  to  marry  women 
who  are  unrelated,  "because  experience  shows  that  sisters 
are  particularly  liable  to  disagree  in  such  marriage." 

The  practice  of  sororal  polygyny,  like  every  other  ti'^Ji- 
tional  custom,  presents,  there  can  be  no  doubt,  many  ad- 
vantages that  could  be  adduced  in  its  defense  or  serve  as  an 
inducement  for  its  observance;  but  usages  and  customs  do 
not  generally  owe  their  origin  to  the  careful  a  priori  weigh- 
ing of  fine  points  of  psychology.  It  may  be  doubted  whether 
Melanesian  savages  are  much  concerned  about  the  amicable 
nature  of  the  relation  between  their  wives,  about  respect 
for  their  deceased  wives,  or  proper  qualifications  in  the 
nurses  of  their  children.  None  of  those  alleged  beneficial 
effects  of  the  practice  is  applicable  to  ethnological  facts  as 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  21  J 

we  find  them;  they  do  not  account  for  a  man  naving  to 
marry  his  wife's  sisters  against  his  will  or  for  his  collecting 
the  bride-price  when  they  marry  other  men,  or  for  his 
having  to  wait,  with  a  slave-girl  as  a  substitute,  when  thosr 
sisters  are  still  infants  in  arms,  or  for  his  having  a  recog. 
nized  right  of  access  to  them  whether  he  marries  them  o* 
not.  With  peoples  in  the  lowest  stage  of  social  organization 
the  practice  of  sororal  polygyny  and  of  sororal  succession 
is,  like  that  of  cross-cousin  marriage,  the  automatic  effect 
of  the  principles  which  constitute  the  foundation  of  their 
social  organization,  namely,  the  rule  of  marriagex  between 
intermarrying  groups.  Like  the  principle  of  cross-cousin 
marriage,  that  of  sororal  polygyny  in  its  narrower  sense  is  a 
translation  in  terms  of  family  relationship  of  the  wider 
conceptions  of  clan  relationship.  In  the  one  case  the  cross- 
cousins  and  the  sisters  are  what  we,  in  accordance  with  the 
family  system,  call  "actual,"  or  "own"  cousins,  and  "own" 
sisters;  in  the  other  they  are  cousins  and  sisters  in  the  tribal 
sense,  and  according  to  the  system  of  relationship  obtaining 
in  more  primitive  societies.  If  relationship  be  reckoned  from 
the  point  of  view  of  the  clan-group,  the  term  "wife"  includes 
all  the  women  of  the  corresponding  marriage-group,  and 
all  those  women  are  "sisters";  that  a  man's  wives  should 
be  sisters  is  not  a  right  or  claim,  or  a  matter  of  policy,  but 
a  consequence  of  primitive  organization  to  which  there 

otOT 


exists  no  alternative.  According  to  the  clear  and 
description  of  Dr.  Codrington,  "speaking  generally,  it  may 
be  said  that  to  a  Melanesia!!  man  all  women,  of  his  own 
generation  at  least,  are  either  sisters  or  wives;  to  the  Melane- 
sian  woman  all  men  are  either  brothers  or  husbands.  ...  It 
must  not  be  understood  that  a  Melanesian  regards  all  women 
who  are  not  of  his  own  division  as  in  fact  his  wives,  or 
conceives  himself  to  have  rights  which  he  may  exercise  in 
regard  to  those  women  of  them  who  are  unmarried;  but 
the  women  may  be  his  wives  by  marriage,  and  those  who 
cannot  be  so  stand  in  a  widely  different  relation  to  him; 
and  it  may  be  added  that  all  women  who  may  become  wives 


214  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

by  marriage  and  are  not  yet  appropriated,  are  to  a  certain 
extent  looked  upon  by  those  who  may  be  their  husbands 
as  open  to  more  or  less  legitimate  intercourse.  In  fact,  ap- 
propriation of  particular  women  to  their  husbands,  though 
established  by  every  sanction  of  native  custom,  has  by  no 
means  so  strong  a  hold  in  native  society,  nor  in  all  probabil- 
ity so  deep  a  foundation  in  the  history  of  the  people,  as 
the  severance  of  either  sex  by  divisions  which  most  strictly 
limit  the  intercourse  of  men  and  women  to  those  of  the 
section  or  sections  to  which  they  do  not  themselves  belong.'" 
Translated  into  terms  of  the  relationship  set  up  by  the 
smaller  family-group,  those  principles  imply  that  a  man  has 
a  right  to  all  the  women  of  the  group  into  which  he  marries. 
The  true  reason  for  the  principle  of  sororal  polygyny  in  its 
various  forms  is  very  clearly  stated  by  the  Omaha  woman 
who,  according  to  the  Rev.  }.  Owen  Dorsey,  says  to  her 
husband:  "I  wish  you  to  marry  my  brother's  daughter,  as 
she  and  I  are  one  flesh."  Instead  of  "brother's  daughter," 
she  may  say  her  sister  or  her  aunt. 

The  converse  or  complementary  aspect  of  the  rule  that 
when  a  man  contracts  a  marriage  with  a  family  he  marries 
all  the  marriageable  females  of  that  family  is  the  principle 
that  when  a  woman  contracts  a  marriage  with  another 
family  she  marries  all  the  marriageable  males  of  that  family. 
The  simultaneous  observance  of  the  two  rules  constitutes  a 
marriage  between  the  several  individuals  composing  them. 
The  one-sided  observance  of  sororal  polygyny  and  perhaps 
also  of  fraternal  polyandry  are,  however,  at  the  present  day 
much  more  common  than  the  combination  of  the  two  prac- 
liced  as  complete  group-marriage.  The  reason  of  this  is,  on 
consideration,  plain.  The  combination  of  the  two  practices  is, 
as  we  have  already  noted,  an  unstable  arrangement;  tor 
unless  the  groups  to  which  the  men  and  the  women  re- 
spectively belong  be  supposed  to  be  broken  up  and  a  new 
grouping  of  men  and  women  substituted  for  the  original 
groups,  the  arrangement  can  only  operate  in  an  unmodified 
form  where  sexual  relations  do  not  entail  permanent  cohabi- 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  2If 

tation.  As  soon  as  marriage  involves  not  only  sexual  rela- 
tions, but  also  economic  interdependence  and  association, 
such  an  arrangement  becomes  almost  impracticable  in  an 
unmodified  form;  for  no  economic  association  can  take 
place  between  a  man  and  a  woman  or  group  of  women 
unless  the  labor  of  those  women  is  in  some  degree  specially 
allotted  to  the  man,  unless,  therefore,  he  has  an  individual 
right  to  their  labor.  Unmodified  group-marriage  is,  thus,  a 
practicable  arrangement  so  long  only  as  sexual  relations 
remain  completely  independent  of  economic  relations  be- 
tween the  associates;  and  directly  such  economic  factors 
enter  into  that  relation  the  organization  must  of  necessity 
break  up  into  one  or  the  other  of  its  constituent  aspects, 
into  sororal  polygyny  or  fraternal  polyandry.  But  the  whole 
development  of  individualism,  of  individual  property,  and 
of  personal  economic  interests  has  taken  place  mainly  in 
the  hands  of  the  men  and  not  of  the  women,  and  in  human 
societies  as  they  exist  at  the  present  day  the  economic  ad- 
vantages are  generally  in  favor  of  the  men.  Since  it  is  those 
very  factors  which  constitute  the  chief  difficulty  in  the 
practical  operation  of  unmodified  group-marriage,  it  is 
naturally  to  be  expected  that  when  that  organization  breaks 
up,  it  will  do  so  in  the  form  of  sororal  polygyny  rather  than 
in  that  of  fraternal  polyandry.  And  in  fact  fraternal  poly- 
andry, although  scarcely  less  widespread  in  its  distribution 
than  sororal  polygyny,  is  found  to  be  considerably  less 
common. 

Not  only  is  it  less  common,  but  pure  fraternal  polyandry 
is,  in  point  of  fact,  even  more  rare  than  it  is  generally  sup- 
posed and  currently  stated  to  be.  For  if  those  customs  which 
are  usually  described  as  fraternal  polyandry  be  more  closely 
inquired  into,  it  will  be  found  in  a  large  proportion  of  in- 
stances that,  in  addition  to  the  rule  of  fraternal  polyandry, 
that  of  sororal  polygyny  is  either  actually  observed  also  or 
that  there  are  strong  indications  that  it  was  until  lately 
observed.  In  other  words,  although  primitive  group-marriage 
customs  frequently  assume  the  modified  form  of  sororal 


2l6  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

polygny  without  polyandry,*  when  fraternal  polyandry  sur- 
vives, the  converse  aspect  of  the  collective  relation  survives 
also;  and  most  instances  of  fraternal  polygamous  marriage 
are  in  reality  examples  of  complete  group-marriage  and 
not  of  its  decay  in  the  form  of  fraternal  polyandry.  Accord- 
ingly, instead  of  reviewing  separately  reported  instances  of 
fraternal  polyandry  and  of  group-marriage,  we  shall  consider 
together  those  survivals  of  primitive  marriage  institutions. 

Collective  Marriage  Among  the  Peoples  of  Northern  Asia 

We  will  begin  our  survey  in  that  region  which  includes 
the  northeastern  portion  of  Asia  and  the  adjoining  northern 
portion  of  the  American  continent,  and  which  constitutes 
a  cultural  and  ethnical  link  between  the  old  world  and  its 
civilizations  and  the  new  world  of  America  which  has 
remained  comparatively  isolated  in  its  development. 

The  Gilyak  are  a  pakeo-Asiatic  race  inhabiting  the  region 
of  the  lower  Amur  River,  immediately  north  of  Manchuria, 
•and  the  northern  parts  of  the  adjacent  island  of  Sakhalin. 
Our  information  concerning  their  customs  illustrates  the 
confusion  to  which  I  have  just  referred.  An  old  Japanese 
traveler  mentions  incidentally  that  Gilyak  women  have  sev- 
eral husbands.  The  more  recent  account  of  an  able  French 
traveler  gives  us  more  specific  details.  Brothers  have  their 
wives  to  some  extent  in  common;  when  an  elder  brother  is 
absent  on  a  journey  his  younger  brother  enjoys  marital 
rights  over  his  wife,  although  the  converse  does  not  hold. 
"Villages  are  inhabited  as  a  rule  by  members  of  the  same 
family;  every  Gilyak  comes  into  the  world  with  so  many 
fathers  and  so  many  mothers  that  it  is  somewhat  difficult 
to  understand  their  system  of  relationship."  Another  traveler 
reports  that  their  sexual  relations  are  indiscriminate,  and 
that  the  circumstance  is  accounted  for  by  the  tradition  that 
"in  earlier  times  cousins  ('rus-er')  had  the  juridic  right 
of  collective  use  of  cousins  and  even  of  the  sisters  of  cousins." 
Such  information  has,  however,  been  greatly  amplified  by 
the  extensive  investigations,  including  a  census,  conducted 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  21^- 

among  the  Gilyak  by  Dr.  Leo  Y.  Sternberg,  the  distinguished 
director  of  the  Peter  the  Great  Museum  of  Anthropology 
of  the  former  Imperial  Russian  Academy  of  Science.  The 
Gilyak  are  strictly  organized  into  exogamic  intermarrying 
classes,  and  every  member,  male  and  female,  of  one  class 
marries  into  the  corresponding  marriage  class  to  which  he 
or  she  is  allotted  from  birth.  Those  classes  correspond  exactly 
to  the  degree  of  relationship,  and  the  terms  used  to  denote 
these  indicate  at  the  same  time  the  norms  of  their  marriage 
regulations.  Thus  the  woman  whom  a  man  is  bound  to 
marry  is  his  cross-cousin;  on  the  other  hand  all  other  cousins, 
the  daughters  of  a  father's  brother  or  a  mother's  sister,  are 
strictly  barred  even  in  the  remotest  degree,  and  are  called 
"yoch,"  which  implies  that  they  are  absolutely  tabu  and 
inviolable.  The  name  given  by  a  man  to  the  women  whom 
he  may  marry  is  "angej,"  and  the  name  given  by  a  woman 
to  the  men  whom  she  may  marry  is  "pu."  Individual  mar- 
riage takes  place,  that  is,  a  woman  becomes  the  particulai 
economic  associate  of  a  man.  But  the  economic  husband  pos* 
sesses  no  exclusive  sexual  rights  over  the  woman:  "all  peo- 
ple who  are  in  the  relation  of  'angej'  and  'pu'  have  really 
the  right  of  sexual  intercourse,  not  only  before,  but  also 
after,  individual  marriage."  When  her  husband  is  absent 
a  wife  is  free  to  receive  any  man  who  is  "pu"  to  her;  his 
brothers  (actual  and  tribal)  living  in  the  same  village  or 
neighborhood  do  customarily  use  that  right,  and  every  man 
who  is  "pu"  to  a  woman  has  the  right  to  claim  his  privilege. 
Sometimes  a  man  from  a  distant  part,  hearing  that  an 
"angej"  of  his  is  living  in  a  certain  village  will  come  to 
claim  the  right.  In  one  respect  the  rules  of  group-marriage 
are  different  in  the  two  principal  divisions  of  the  Gilyak 
nation;  for  among  the  western  Gilyak  of  the  interior  all 
tribal  brothers  have  marital  rights  over  the  wives  of  each 
other  indifferently.  Among  the  eastern  Gilyak,  on  the  other 
hand,  the  younger  brothers  have  a  claim  to  the  wives  of 
all  their  elder  brothers,  but  the  elder  brothers  have  no  right 
to  the  wives  of  the  younger  brothers.  The  terms  of  relation- 


2l3  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

ship  arc  modified  in  accordance  with  those  distinctions  in 
the  two  divisions,  the  wives  of  younger  brothers  being 
"yoch,"  that  is,  forbidden,  to  the  elder  brothers.  Dr.  Stern- 
berg  sees  in  that  rule  of  the  eastern  Gilyak,  the  significance 
of  which  will  be  perceived  later  on,  a  step  from  unmodified 
group-marriage  towards  the  establishment  of  patriarchal 
rights. 

The  Yakut,  the  great  Turki  nation  of  which  the  Manchus 
are  a  branch,  are  divided  into  totemic  clans.  When  the 
Russians  first  came  upon  them  polygyny  was  general;  the 
nature  of  that  polygyny  is  clearly  indicated  by  the  fact  that 
at  the  pTseit  day  the  sisters  of  the  bride,  as  well  as  the 
bride  herself,  must  carefully  abstain  from  ever  showing  their 
faces,  or  even  their  hair  to  the  bridegroom  or  any  of  his 
brothers  or  cousins.  They  have  been  for  the  last  hundred 
years  members  of  the  Orthodox  Russian  Church,  but  their 
former  organization  still  survives  in  a  curiously  modified 
form,  for  it  is  the  established  custom  "that  two  brothers  of 
one  side  marry  two  sisters  of  another."  The  same  terms 
are  employed  to  denote  a  man's  own  children  or  his 
brother's.  Betrothals  take  place  in  infancy. 

Among  the  Kamchadals  it  appears  that  the  favorite  mar- 
-iage  is  between  cousins,  that  is,  presumably  cross-cousins. 
Sororal  polygyny  was  the  recognized  usage;  when  a  man 
took  a  second  wife  she  was  his  first  wife's  sister,  or  failing 
a  sister  her  first-cousin,  or  tribal  sister.  A  man  frequently 
had  two  or  three  wives,  either  living  in  the  same  household 
t>r  in  separate  dwellings.  We  are  further  told  that  it  was 
customary  between  "friends,"  which  expression  usually 
means  tribal  brothers,  to  exchange  wives,  and  the  levirate 
rule  was  observed.  In  spite,  therefore,  of  the  imperfect  and 
fragmentary  character  of  our  information,  it  seems  fairly 
clear  that  their  marital  relations  conformed  to  the  principles 
of  sororal  and  fraternal  group-marriage. 

The  Tungus  are,  numerically,  by  far  the  most  important 
race  in  northern  Asia,  extending  from  the  borders  of  China 
in  the  east  over  the  whole  northern  portion  of  the  continent 


SOCIAL    ORGAN  1Z  AT  I  ON  £19 

to  the  Ob  River  in  the  northwest.  The  organization  of  the 
Ochi  tribe  has  been  carefully  investigated  by  Dr.  Sternberg. 
Among  them  marriage  is  regulated  by  a  classificatory  sys- 
tem of  relationship  with  wide  age-grades,  so  that  not  only 
do  those  who  stand  in  the  relation  of  cross-cousins  belong 
to  reciprocal  marrying  classes,  but  also  those  who  stand  in 
the  relation  of  uncle  and  niece,  the  daughter  of  a  man's 
sister  belonging  to  the  class  into  which  he  b  by  birth  mar- 
ried. Among  the  Tungus  complete  group-rnarriage  rela- 
tions obtain,  for  not  only  is  sororal  polygyny  observed,  but 
every  man  has  marital  rights  over  the  wives  of  his  elder 
brothers.  Further,  owing  to  the  inclusiveness  of  their  classi- 
ficatory system,  he  has  also  marital  rights  over  the  wives 
of  the  younger  brothers  of  his  father. 

A  Russian  traveler  among  the  natives  of  the  extreme 
northeast  of  the  Asiatic  continent,  the  Chukchi,  mentions 
that,  "among  other  customs,  they  have  the  usage  of  con- 
tracting so-called  'exchange-marriages.'  Two  or  more  men 
enter  into  an  agreement  whereby  they  have  mutual  rights 
to  each  other's  wives.  The  right  is  exercised  whenever  the 
contracting  parties  come  together,  as  for  instance  on  the 
occasion  of  a  visit.  Even  unmarried  men  or  widowers  can 
enter  into  an  'exchange-marriage,'  which  thus  assumes  the 
form  of  a  veritable  polyandry."  We  have,  concerning  the 
Chukchi,  the  elaborate  monograph  of  Mr.  Wlademar 
Bogoras,  sumptuously  published  in  the  series  of  publication* 
of  the  "Jesup  North  Pacific  Expedition."  The  Chukchi  arc 
commonly  betrothed  in  infancy  to  their  first-cousins,  that 
being  the  prescriptive  marriage  alliance.  They  moreover 
observe  sororal  polygyny;  if  a  man  desires  or  can  afford 
to  maintain  several  wives  he  has  a  right  during  her  life-time 
as  well  as  after  her  death  to  the  sisters  of  his  first  wife. 
Further,  not  only  have  the  Chukchi  the  common  custom 
of  exchanging  wives,  but  Mr.  Bogoras  describes  a  regular 
system  by  which  a  number  of  men  will  solemnly  bind 
themselves  to  mutual  rights  over  their  respective  wives. 
Practically  every  Chukcha,  we  are  told,  belongs  to  sucn 


220  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

a  marrying  group.  At  first  sight  it  would  appear  as  if  this 
group-marriage  organization  were  an  artificial  one,  that  is 
to  say,  one  formed  by  a  pact  into  which  the  members  de- 
liberately enter  by  an  individual  contract,  and  not  group- 
marriage  in  what  we  are  led  to  regard  as  its  typical  and 
original  form  as  a  mutual  relation  arising  from  an  estab- 
lished collective  contract  between  the  two  groups.  But 
the  matter  wears  a  different  complexion  when  we  are  in- 
formed that  "second  and  third  cousins  are  almost  invariably 
united  by  ties  of  group-marriage,"  and  that  it  is  indeed  ex- 
ceptional for  any  but  cousins  to  belong  to  a  group  exercis- 
ing those  reciprocal  marital  rights.  It  is  well  to  note,  as  a 
corrective  to  the  ideas  by  which  it  is  customary  to  judge 
those  marriage  organizations,  that  in  this  instance  we  have 
clear  testimony  that  licentiousness  has  nothing  to  do  with 
the  institution.  The  Chukchi  arc  indeed  described  as  a 
sensual  race,  but  their  group-marriage  organization  is  not 
taken  advantage  of  for  licentious  purposes.  In  fact,  they 
are  careful  not  to  form  such  an  alliance  if  possible  with 
dwellers  in  the  same  village,  and  they  in  general  avoid 
exercising  the  rights  conferred  on  them  by  the  compact. 
It  is,  as  in  all  instances  where  deliberate  exchange  of  wives 
takes  place  with  a  friend  or  a  guest,  as  a  bond  of  brother- 
hood that  the  relation  is  regarded.  A  man  will  thus  seek  to 
bind  himself  to  those  of  his  relatives  who  dwell  in  other 
villages,  and  when  he  visits  those  villages  his  tribal  cousin 
will  yield  to  him  his  bed,  presently  returning  the  visit  in 
order  to  make  the  obligation  mutual;  sometimes  cousins  will 
exchange  wives  for  several  months,  for  years,  or  perma- 
nently. So  seriously  is  the  arrangement  regarded  that  chil- 
dren of  the  same  marriage  group  are  regarded  as  brothers 
and  sisters:  they  are  not  allowed  to  marry  among  themselves, 
such  a  union  being  looked  upon  as  incestuous.  It  appears, 
then,  that  although  the  group-marriage  of  the  Chukchi  is 
to  a  certain  extent  artificial  and  depends  upon  an  individual 
compact,  it  nevertheless  corresponds  to,  and  is  a  direct 
derivative  of,  established  marriage  rights  between  two 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  221 

marrying  classes  or  groups,  modified  by  the  necessities  im- 
posed by  the  isolated  and  scattered  condition  of  those  groups, 
who  live  in  small  communities  ranging  over  wide  areas. 

That  conclusion  is  confirmed  the  more  we  inquire  into 
such  reported  instances  of  polyandrous  arrangements.  Pass- 
ing to  the  bridge  of  islands  which  connects  the  Asiatic  with 
the  American  continent  across  the  Bering  Sea,  the  majority 
of  the  reports  which  we  have  concerning  the  Aleuts  are 
of  the  same  character  as  those  which  are  current  concerning 
the  Chukchi  or  the  Gilyak,  and  represent  them  as  given 
to  loose  polyandrous  unions  by  "agreement"  or  from  ex- 
pediency. Thus  Count  Langsdorf  says  that  a  woman 
sometimes  "lives  with  two  husbands,  who  agree  among 
themselves  upon  the  conditions  on  which  they  are  to  share 
her."  Father  VeniaminofT,  after  stating  that  polygyny  was 
usual  among  the  Aleuts,  adds  that  "in  addition  the  custom 
of  polyandry  is  practiced,  a  woman  having  the  right  to  take, 
besides  her  principal  husband,  one  who  has  the  title  of 
'helper,'  or  'partner'  (in  Russian,  'polovinschtchik').  Those 
supplementary  husbands  enjoyed  all  marital  rights,  and 
were  under  obligation  of  contributing  towards  the  upkeep 
of  the  household.  The  women  living  in  such  double  mar- 
riages were  in  no  wise  regarded  as  immoral,  but  on  the 
contrary  were  rather  honored  for  their  industry  in  caring 
for  two  men  besides  their  children."  Three  men  sometimes 
lived  together  in  one  household  with  one  woman  "without 
suspicion  of  jealousy."  Those  multiple  marriage  arrange* 
ments  were  sometimes  extended  so  as  to  include  Russian 
settlers  as  accepted  members  in  the  partnership.  All  this 
might  easily  appear  mere  licentious  depravity  and  laxity 
on  the  part  of  those  savages,  who  were  in  the  Stone  Age 
when  first  visited  by  Europeans.  Admiral  Wrangell  remarks 
that  only  a  few  years  after  the  arrival  of  the  Russians  they 
had  become  Russianized,  and  had  so  entirely  lost  their 
native  traditional  customs,  that  it  was  quite  useless  to  in* 
quire  what  they  really  were.  At  the  present  day  they  have 
become  as  completely  Americanized,  and  the  appearance 


222  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

of  many  Aleutian  villages  and  of  their  inhabitants  differs 
little  from  that  of  a  western  township  in  the  United  States. 
To  see  the  natives  sitting  on  the  verandas  of  their  wooden 
cottages,  the  mother,  maybe  with  her  blouse-sleeves  tucked 
up  doing  the  week's  washing,  or  putting  the  finishing 
touches  to  their  children's  toilet  before  they  go  to  Sunday- 
school,  one  would  consider  those  people  to  be  no  nearer  to 
a  primitive  social  state  than  the  European  immigrants  in 
the  little  colonies.  In  those  circumstances  we  should  scarcely 
be  entitled  to  hope  that  any  investigation  could  bring  to 
light  more  definite  particulars  concerning  their  social  organ- 
ization. Yet  such  an  investigation  has  been  successfully 
carried  out  under  the  auspices  of  the  Russian  Geographical 
Society  by  the  well-known  ethnologist,  Mr.  Wladcmar 
Jochelson.  To  his  intense  surprise  he  found  not  only  that 
in  former  times  it  was  an  established  rule  for  younger 
brothers  to  have  access  to  the  wives  of  their  elder  brothers, 
but  that  even  at  the  present  day  among  these  Europeanized 
natives  "the  institution  is  preserved  among  cousins,  and — 
what  is  most  remarkable — not  as  a  facultative  institution, 
but  as  an  obligatory  one.  To  participate  in  group  marriage 
is  the  duty  of  cousins." 

Sexual  Hospitality 

It  will  be  well  to  pause  here  for  a  moment  and  consider 
how  it  is  that  participation  in  group-marriage,  which  we 
are  in  the  habit  of  regarding  as  a  form  of  licentious  disorder, 
should  be  regarded  not  only  in  the  light  of  a  right  and  a 
privilege,  but  actually  as  a  moral  obligation.  The  reason  is 
in  reality  quite  clear  and  simple.  Community  of  wives  being 
originally  part  of  the  relation  of  tribal  brotherhood,  it  was 
naturally  regarded  as  an  essential  token  of  that  relation — 
that  is,  a  man  could  not  be  truly  a  tribal  brother  unless  that 
reciprocal  access  to  wives  existed.  To  primitive  man  all  men 
are  either  tribal  brothers  or  strangers,  and  the  latter  term 
is  equivalent  in  primitive  society  to  "enemy";  there  is  no 
middle  status  between  those  two  opposite  relations.  If  a 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  22J 

man,  not  being  by  birth  a  tribal  brother,  is  admitted  into 
the  community,  if  he  is  found  to  be  well-disposed,  if  he  is 
regarded  with  good  will  or  affection  or  admiration — if, 
in  short,  he  is  not  an  enemy — he  must  needs  be  a  tribal 
brother.  Hence  the  sacredness  of  hospitality  in  all  primitive 
sentiment;  a  man  who  has  been  admitted  to  the  relation  of 
guest  is  necessarily  to  be  regarded  and  treated  as  a  tribal 
brother.  If  a  man  has  touched  the  tent-rope  of  an  Arab's 
tent  his  life  must  be  defended  against  all  enemies,  and  to 
tell  an  Arab  that  he  has  neglected  his  guest  is  the  greatest 
of  insults.  The  hospitality  of  savages  knows  no  bounds;  if 
they  are  on  the  verge  of  starvation  they  will  give  the  little 
that  they  have  to  the  stranger  who  has  been  admitted  to 
their  midst.  The  guest  who  is  not  by  birth  a  tribal  brother 
must  be  made  one,  since  he  is  not  an  enemy.  The  first 
thought  of  the  savage  when  a  stranger  to  whom  he  feels 
himself  attracted  is  in  his  company,  is  to  take  the  necessary 
steps  to  make  him  a  tribal  brother.  When  a  young  American 
naval  officer  won  the  good  graces  of  Seri  women,  their  first 
anxiety  was  to  paint  on  his  face  the  tribal  marks.  The  blood- 
bond  is  insisted  on  whenever  a  traveler  makes  a  stay  in  an 
African,  American  or  Polynesian  tribe;  an  exchange  o{ 
blood  must  be  cfTcctctl  so  as  to  make  the  man  who  is  not 
treated  as  a  stranger  or  enemy  a  tribal  brother.  In  Australia, 
if  a  member  of  a  strange  tribe  refuses  to  drink  the  blood 
of  his  hosts,  it  is  forcibly  poured  down  his  throat.  Among 
the  Koryak  the  guest  is  obliged  to  undergo  a  somewhat 
strange  rite  of  brotherhood  with  his  host's  wife  before  he 
can  avail  himself  of  her  hospitality.  It  follows  that  the 
participation  of  the  guest  in  his  host's  wife  is  a  necessary 
token  of  his  friendship,  a  "friend"  being  necessarily  a  tribal 
brother.  The  practice,  very  inaptly  called  "hospitality  prosti- 
tution," is  not  a  matter  of  misguided  benevolence,  but  a 
necessary  pledge  that  the  guest  is  a  friend  and  not  an  enemy. 
For  the  guest  to  refuse  is  equivalent  to  repudiating  the 
assumed  brotherhood,  and  is  thus  tantamount  to  a  declara- 
tion of  war.  The  sedentary  Koryak,  for  example,  "look  upon 


224  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

it  as  the  truest  mark  of  friendship,  when  they  entertain  a 
friend,  to  put  him  to  bed  with  their  wife  or  daughter;  and 
a  refusal  of  this  civility  they  consider  as  the  greatest  affront, 
and  are  capable  of  even  murdering  a  man  for  such  con- 
tempt. That  happened  to  several  Cossacks,  before  they  were 
acquainted  with  the  customs  of  the  people/*  The  same  thing 
is  reported  of  the  Chukchi.  In  Madagascar  a  missionary 
closely  escaped  being  murdered  because  he  refused  the 
proffered  hospitality.  I  have  heard  of  similar  perils  incurred 
by  missionaries  in  New  Zealand,  in  the  early  days,  from 
the  same  cause.  Even  the  very  free  sexual  hospitality  of  the 
natives  of  Tahiti  was,  M.  Lesson  remarks,  regarded  in  the 
light  of  a  ceremony  partaking  of  a  religious  character.  The 
custom  is  very  general  in  all  primitive  societies.  From  the 
manner  in  which  it  is  regarded  we  may  be  as  certain  as 
we  can  be  of  any  inference  in  social  anthropology  that 
wherever  it  is  observed  clan-brotherhood  is,  or  was  formerly, 
considered  to  imply  sexual  communism,  for  it  is  by  assimila- 
tion to  a  clan-brother  that  the  guest  is  treated  as  he  is.  All 
hospitality,  which  among  primitive  peoples  organized  in 
clans  is  so  liberal  and  ungrudging  as  to  excite  the  admira- 
tion of  Europeans,  has  its  foundation  in  the  assimilation  of 
the  guest  to  a  clan-brother.  The  practice  of  sexual  hospitality 
has  naturally  tended  to  become  modified  and  limited,  in 
the  same  way  as  sexual  communism  has  become  modified 
and  limited,  with  the  development  of  individual  marriage 
and  its  growing  claims.  All  manner  of  transitional  and  at- 
tenuated modifications  of  the  custom  are  accordingly  found. 
Thus,  the  Missouri  Indians  were,  like  many  North  Ameri- 
can tribes,  so  averse  to  any  intercourse  with  members  of 
another  tribe,  that  they  never  offered  their  wives  or  daugh- 
ters to  strangers,  not  even  to  their  close  neighbors,  the 
Mandans.  Nevertheless,  they  regarded  themselves  as  being 
under  the  obligation  of  offering  sexual  hospitality  to  a  guest, 
and  accordingly  provided  him  with  a  captive  from  some 
other  tribe.  It  may  safely  be  concluded  that  this  practice  was 
a  compromise  between  their  strongly  endogamic  tribal  prin- 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  225 

ciples  and  their  equally  strong  conviction  that  a  clan-brother 
was  entitled  to  access  to  his  fellow-clansman's  or  host's 
women.  Among  the  Krumir  Berbers  a  stranger  visiting  the 
tribe  is  received  and  lodged  by  one  of  the  tribesmen,  and 
is  invited  to  spend  th<*  night  in  his  tent  in  the  company 
of  his  host's  wife.  The  host  leaves  the  tent,  but  he  mounts 
guard  outside  it,  armed  with  his  gun,  and  should  he  hear 
the  slightest  suspicious  movement  on  the  part  of  his  guest, 
he  would  have  no  hesitation  in  instantly  shooting  him.  So- 
called  "hospitality  prostitution"  has  here  dwindled  down 
to  an  empty  ceremonial  which  preserves  the  form  of  the  so- 
cial tradition,  while  safeguarding  more  advanced  sentiment? 
by  abolishing  the  reality  of  the  usage.  Among  the  Arabs  the 
cult  of  hospitality  amounts  to  an  article  of  religious  faith, 
and,  as  is  usually  the  case,  is  associated  with  an  equally 
fervent  devotion  to  the  sentiment  of  clan-brotherhood  and 
solidarity,  which  may  be  said  to  be  the  dominating  passion 
of  the  Arab.  At  the  same  time  the  Arabs  are  at  the  present 
day,  and  have  long  been,  intensely  patriarchal  in  their 
conceptions,  while  passionately  devoted  to  their  women, 
and  in  the  fullest  sense  of  the  term  jealous  of  them  and  ot 
their  honor.  From  the  importance  of  the  conceptions  of 
hospitality  and  clan-brotherhood  among  them  we  should, 
however,  be  disposed  to  infer,  on  comparative  grounds,  that 
at  some  former  time  hospitality  amongst  them  included 
sexual  hospitality,  and  that  therefore  sexual  communism 
among  clan-brothers  was  also  at  some  former  period  a 
custom  of  their  forefathers.  In  this  instance  we  are  able  to 
check  the  inference,  and  we  have  evidence  that  it  is,  in 
fact,  entirely  justified.  The  learned  Arab  jurist,  'Ata  ibn- 
Abi  Rabah,  states  that  the  custom  of  offering  one's  wife 
to  a  guest  was  of  old  a  universally  sanctioned  and  recog- 
nized custom  survived  in  historical  times,  and  indeed,  ha* 
survived  amongst  some  down  to  the  present,  or  quite  recent, 
times.  The  Asir  tribe,  up  to  the  time  of  the  Wahhabites, 
lent  their  wives  to  their  guest/ and  so  also  did  the  Dhahaban 
Amon<j  the  Merekedes,  a  tribe  of  the  Yemen,  "custom  rf  • 


226  THEMAKINGOFMAN 

quires  that  the  stranger  should  pass  the  night  with  his 
host's  wife,  whatever  may  be  her  a^e  or  condition.  Should 
he  render  himself  agreeable  to  tlu  lady,  he  is  honorably 
and  hospitably  treated;  if  not,  the  lower  part  of  his  'abba/ 
or  cloak  is  cut  off  and  he  is  driven  away  in  disgrace."  Thus 
among  a  people  whose  notions  of  the  exclusive  nature  of 
individual  marriage  are  in  general  at  the  present  day  even 
more  severe  and  more  strict  than  our  own,  whose  more 
civilized  representatives  veil  their  women  and  confine  them 
to  the  sacred  privacy  of  the  harem,  clan-organization  en- 
tailed the  same  conceptions  and  usages  as  among  the  primi- 
tive savages  of  North  America  or  of  Australia. 

It  will,  I  think,  be  apparent  from  the  above  facts  why  i: 
is  that  the  Aleuts  regard  the  ancient  observance  of  com- 
munity of  wives  between  cousins  as  a  moral  duty  and 
obligation.  Neglect  of  it  would  be  a  dissolution  and  repudia- 
tion of  the  sacred  bonds  of  clan-kinship.  When  a  Chukcha 
claims  his  privilege  from  a  tribal  cousin,  the  latter  makes 
a  point  of  ceremoniously  returning  the  visit,  not  on  the 
principle  that  he  is  entitled  to  reciprocity,  but  because  it 
would  be  as  offensive  not  to  return  the  token  of  brother- 
hood as  to  withhold  his  hand  when  another  proffered  his  in 
friendship.  When  a  Nayar  of  Travancorc  became  converted 
to  Christianity  he  refused  to  cohabit  any  longer  with  his 
brother's  wife;  the  brother  was  mortally  offended,  and  ex- 
pressed his  indignation  at  the  unbrotherly  conduct  of  the 
convert.  Among  the  Eskimo  of  Davis  Strait  and  Cumber- 
land Sound  the  rite  of  reciprocal  exchange  of  wives  between 
tribal  brothers  is,  as  with  the  Aleuts,  "commanded  by  re- 
ligious law." 

Collective  Sexual  Relations  in  America 

There  can  be  little  doubt  that  the  practice  of  exchanging 
wives  temporarily,  which  is  universal  with  all  sections  of 
the  Eskimo  race,  is  the  survival  of  an  organization  of  tribal 
sexual  communism  which,  together  with  all  clan  and  tribal 
organization,  has  become  disintegrated  through  the  dis- 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION 

persion  of  small  communities  in  the  icy  habitat  to  which 
the  race  has  been  driven.  Among  the  Eskimo  o[  the  Kacliak 
tribe  the  rules  which  were  found  by  Mr.  JochcLscm  among 
the  Aleuts  have  been  observed  by  M.  Dawydoff.  Among  the 
Eskimo  of  Bering  Straits  "it  is  a  custom,"  says  Mr.  E.  W. 
Nelson,  "for  two  men  living  in  different  villages  to  agree 
to  become  bond-fellows,  or  brothers  by  adoption.  Having 
made  the  arrangement,  when  one  of  them  goes  to  the  other's 
village  he  is  received  as  the  bond-brother's  guest,  and  is 
given  the  use  of  his  host's  bed  with  his  wife  during  his 
stay.  When  the  visit  is  returned  the  same  favor  is  extencle  1 
to  the  other,  consequently  neither  family  knows  who  is  ttr 
father  of  the  children."  The  children  of  each  family  cail 
one  another  brother.  Among  the  Eskimo  of  Baffin  Lair1 
and  Hudson  Bay  polygyny  is  combined  with  polyandry.  In 
Repulse  Bay  "it  is  a  usual  thing  among  friends  to  exchang 
wives  for  a  week  or  two  about  every  two  months,"  am! 
Dr.  Murdoch  was  informed  that  "at  certain  times  there  i' 
a  general  exchange  of  wives  throughout  the  village,  each 
woman  passing  from  man  to  man  till  she  has  been  through 
the  hands  of  all."  In  northern  Greenland,  as  Dr.  Bessels 
delicately  puts  it,  "somewhat  communistic  tendencies  seri- 
ously interfere  with  the  sanctity  of  marriage." 

The  most  important  race  of  the  extreme  northwestern 
region  of  the  American  continent  is  the  nation  of  the 
Tlinkit,  or  as  the  Russians  called  them,  the  Kolosh.  They 
are  divided  into  a  number  of  totemic  clans,  which  are 
grouped  into  two  large  divisions  or  exogamic  marriage 
classes,  and  a  man  is  strictly  forbidden  to  marry  in  his  own 
division,  and  must  take  his  wives  from  the-  opposite  mar- 
riage class.  It  would  appear  further  that  it  is  most  usual  for 
members  of  one  clan  to  draw  their  wives  from  one  particu- 
lar clan  only,  for  we  are  told  that  as  a  rule  the  wives  arc 
cousins  of  their  husbands,  which  means  that  a  man  marriej 
into  the  same  clan  or  family  from  which  his  father,  hi* 
grandfather,  and  all  his  forebears  have  been  in  the  habit 
of  taking  their  wives.  Polygamy  is  very  general  and  exten- 


228  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

sive,  and  a  man  of  distinction  may  have  as  many  as  forty 
wives.  In  addition  the  Tlinkit  are  polyandrous.  Their 
usages  in  this  respect  are  interesting  as  illustrating  once 
more  the  deceptive  manner  in  which  such  an  organization 
is  apt  to  be  reported.  Some  writers  state  that  their  customs 
allow  "great  looseness  in  sexual  relations."  Count  Langs- 
dorf,  on  the  contrary,  says  that  their  decent  and  orderly  be- 
havior in  this  respect  and  the  modesty  of  their  women 
stand  in  striking  contrast  with  the  manners  of  neighboring 
races.  The  reason  of  this  is,  as  usual,  that  the  men  are  "very 
jealous" — that  is  to  say,  they  are  not  disposed  to  allow  the 
women  any  liberties.  Girls  are  given  in  marriage  as  soon 
as  they  attain  puberty.  Adultery  is  very  severely  punished, 
the  guilty  parties,  if  discovered,  being,  we  are  told,  usually 
killed  on  the  spot,  unless,  indeed,  the  man  is  able  to  soothe 
the  husband's  feelings  by  the  offer  of  an  adequate  monetary 
compensation.  But  the  notable  feature  in  the  organization 
of  the  Tlinkit  lies  in  what  constitutes  "adultery."  It  is  a 
serious  offense  only  if  the  seducer  belongs  to  a  clan  other 
than  the  husband's;  if  he  be  a  "relative"  (by  which  term  we 
are  presumably  to  understand  a  "clan-brother")  there  is  no 
offense  and  no  punishment.  The  lover  is,  on  the  contrary, 
invited  to  continue  his  relations  with  the  woman  quite 
freely,  subject  to  the  reasonable  proviso  that  he  shall  con- 
tribute his  share  towards  the  maintenance  of  the  household. 
It  is,  in  fact,  customary  for  a  woman  to  have  several  co- 
husbands,  who  exercise  their  rights  during  one  another's 
frequent  absences,  and  cooperate  in  the  upkeep  of  the  com- 
mon home.  The  "secondary  husbands,"  as  they  have  been 
called,  "are  invariably  either  brothers  or  cousins  of  the  prin- 
cipal husband."  The  rules  governing  the  sexual  organiza- 
tions of  the  Tlinkit  would  seem,  from  those  facts,  to  be 
fairly  clear.  The  Russian  bishop,  Father  Veniaminoff,  to 
whom  we  owe  our  most  valuable  information  concerning 
the  populations  of  that  region  in  their  original  state,  thinks 
it,  however,  necessary  to  go  to  Sicily  for  a  parallel  to  the 
customs  of  the  natives,  and  many  ethnological  writers  havs 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  22p 

used  the  hint,  and  affect  to  term  these  arrangements 
"cicisbeism."  It  does  not  appear  that  the  customs  of  the 
Tlinkit  bear  any  resemblance  to  the  practices  of  the 
eighteenth-century  Italian  society,  of  which  the  relations 
between  Nelson  and  Sir  William  and  Lady  Hamilton  are 
a  famous  instance.  Putting  our  information  together  it 
would  seem  that  among  the  Tlinkit  sexual  relations  with 
the  wife  of  a  clan-brother,  or,  what  is  the  same  thing,  with 
a  woman  of  the  clan  with  which  his  was  intermarried,  did 
not  constitute  adultery,  but  that  a  man  might  always  share 
such  a  woman  with  her  individual  husband;  in  other  words, 
a  man  had  the  right  of  access  to  any  woman  of  the  corre- 
sponding marriage  class,  independently  of  any  individual 
economic  tics  which  she  might  have  contracted,  and  could, 
in  fact,  become  a  co-partner  in  that  economic  marriage.  Such 
rules  resemble  far  more  closely  the  scheme  of  what  Mr, 
Fison  described  as  group-marriage  than  any  dissolute  habits 
of  eighteenth-century  society  in  Sicily  or  elsewhere.  It  is 
to  be  noted  that  the  marriages  of  the  Tlinkit  were  com- 
monly matrilocal;  the  households  to  which  the  various  hus 
bands  contributed  were  therefore  those  of  the  women. 

Still  farther  south,  among  the  Salish  Indians  of  British 
Columbia,  "it  was  customary  for  a  man  to  marry  all  his 
wife's  sisters."  As  among  most  other  American  tribes,  "the 
levirate  prevailed  among  them,  a  man's  widow  or  widow? 
going  to  his  surviving  brother."  Further,  we  are  told  that 
during  the  lifetime  of  the  older  brother  his  wives  and  his 
younger  brothers  "stood  in  the  relation  of  'skalpa'  and 
'kalapa'  to  one  another.  There  is  no  equivalent  in  English  for 
these  terms."  From  what  we  have  already  seen  of  the  rela- 
tions between  a  man's  wives  and  his  brothers  among  kindred 
tribes,  we  rnay,  I  think,  form  a  fairly  accurate  idea  of  the 
meaning  of  those  special  terms  applied  to  that  relationship. 

Making  due  allowance  for  variations  of  statement  and  the 
great  difficulty  attending  such  observations,  it  would  appear 
that  from  Manchuria  on  the  Asiatic  side  to  British  Columbia 
on  the  American  side  the  principles  which  govern  collective 


l'50  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

sexual  relations  are  substantially  identical  among  all  tribes, 
and  that  with  the  large  majority  reciprocal  sexual  rights 
between  all  the  males  and  all  the  females  of  two  intermarry- 
ing groups  are  recognized  and  used  at  the  present  day,  or 
Were  so  until  quite  recent  times. 

The  general  prevalence  of  those  customs  among  the  peo- 
ples of  the  ruder  northern  regions  of  eastern  Asia  and 
Western  America  suggests  that  they  may  also  have  obtained 
among  the  American  tribes,  who,  there  is  every  reason  to 
believe,  originally  passed  over  from  Asia  and  southward 
from  those  northern  regionc.  That  presumption  is  strongly 
confirmed  by  several  social  characteristics  common  to  all 
North  American  peoples.  In  the  first  place,  the  nomenclature 
of  clan-relationship  amongst  them  is  that  which  is  called 
"classificatory,"  and  which  corresponds  to  the  relations  es- 
tablished by  such  a  sexual  organization.  The  principles  and 
practice  of  sororal  polygyny  is,  as  we  have  seen,  universally 
observed  among  North  American  Indians.  In  conjunction 
with  it  levirate  marriage  is,  as  with  the  Alaskan  and  other 
tribes,  a  right  and  an  obligation.  Taken  together,  those  facts 
are,  to  any  one  who  admits  the  principle  of  evolution  in 
social  phenomena,  in  themselves  conclusive  evidence  of  a 
former  sexual  organization  in  groups.  Not  only  did  the 
wives  pass,  after  the  death  of  their  economic  associate,  to 
his  brother,  but  the  practice  of  exchange  of  wives  between 
clan-brothers  was  so  general  that  sexual  communism  may  be 
said  to  have,  in  fact,  existed  between  the  brothers  of  one 
group  and  the  sisters  of  another.  Among  the  Menomini 
Indians,  between  sisters-in-law  and  brothers-in-law  on  both 
sides  sexual  relations  were  permissible  and  lawful.  Indeed, 
in  many  tribes  even  at  the  present  day,  according  to  a 
medical  man  thoroughly  familiar  with  their  conduct,  "com- 
munism as  to  sexual  relations  seems  to  prevail."  Among  the 
Natchez,  when  a  man  married  a  woman,  "if  she  has  many 
sisters  he  marries  them  all,  so  that  nothing  is  more  common 
than  to  see  four  or  five  sisters  the  wives  of  a  single  husband." 
It  appears,  on  the  other  hand,  that  they  were  not,  after  all, 


S  O  C  I  A  L    O  R  G  A  N  I  X  A  T  I  O  N  23! 

:onfined  in  their  sexual  relations  to  a  single  husband,  foi 
we  are  further  informed  that  "jealousy  has  so  little  place  in 
their  hearts  that  many  find  no  difficulty  in  lending  their 
wives  to  their  friends."  As  "their  friends"  obviously  includes 
their  brothers,  the  marriage  arrangements  of  the  Natchez 
must  have  been   scarcely   distinguishable   from   fraternal- 
sororal  group-marriages.  Among  the  more  secluded  tribes 
of  the  Dene,  the  northern  branch  of  the  great  Athapascan 
group,  which  includes  the  Navahos  and  the  Apaches,  those 
collective  relations  were  even  more  definite.  As  of  other 
American  tribes,  we  are  told  that  sororal  polygyny,  the 
levirate,  and  the  exchange  of  wives  were  usual;  but  among 
the   Sekanais  "polyandry   was   in   honor  conjointly   with 
polygyny."  "Brothers,"  in  fact,  "cohabit  with  one  another's 
women  openly."  Among  the  Beaver  Indians,  "one  woman 
is  common  to  two  brothers,  and  often  to  three."  Among  the 
most  primitive  representatives  of  the  American  race,  the 
Seri    Indians,   it   is   practically   certain   that  both   sororal 
polygyny  and  fraternal  polyandry  are,  or  were  till  recent 
times,  in  force.  Marriage  with  a  woman  gives  a  husband 
marital  rights  over  all  her  sisters.  At  the  present  time  the 
number  of  the  women  greatly  exceeds  that  of  the  men, 
owing  to  the  constant  losses  from  warfare;  but  Dr.  McGee 
is  of  opinion  that  when  the  tribe  was  more  flourishing  the 
right  of  blood-relatives  to  one  another's  sexual  mates  was 
mutual,  if,  indeed,  it  is  not  FO  at  the  present  day.  At  any 
rate,  "among  other  privileges  bestowed  on  the  bride  during 
the  probationary  period  are  those  of  receiving  the  most  inti* 
mate  attentions  from  the  clan-fellows  of  the  bridegroom." 
Zuiii  traditions  make  distinct  reference  to  fraternal  polyandry 
as  an  accepted  custom;  and  from  the  traditional  tales  of 
the  Fox  Indians  we  learn  that  among  them  also  it  was  cus- 
tomary for  brothers  to  share  their  elder  brother's  wives. 
Those  customs  obtained  among  the  Iroquois  themselves. 
After  referring  to  the  practice  of  sororal  polygyny  amongst 
them,  Father  Charlevoix  adds  that  among  the  Tsonnon- 
touan — that  is  to  say,  the  Senecas,  the  most  important  and 


232  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

by  far  the  most  numerous  of  the  confederated  Iroquois  na- 
tions— "there  was  a  far  greater  disorder,  namely,  plurality 
of  husbands."  The  information  is  confirmed  by  Father 
Lafitau,  who  adds  that  this  "disorder"  was  regarded  as  a 
perfectly  regular  form  of  marriage,  and  was,  in  fact,  quite 
"in  order."  There  is  thus  ample  evidence  to  confirm  the 
presumption  that  the  marriage  customs  of  the  North  Ameri- 
can Indians  at  the  time  when  they  first  became  known  to  us, 
were,  like  the  breaking  down  of  their  clan  exogamy,  the 
result  of  the  decay  of  clan  organization  under  the  influence 
of  individual  economic  marriage;  and  that  the  rules  of 
sororal  polygyny  and  of  the  levirate  were,  like  the  terms  of 
kinship  nomenclature,  survivals  of  a  collective  sexual  or- 
ganization. 

Similar  principles  would  appear  to  have  been  widely  cur- 
rent in  South  America.  Thus  of  the  natives  of  New  Granada 
or  Colombia  we  are  told  that  "brothers-in-law  may  marry 
sisters-in-law,  and  two  or  three,  brothers  will  marry  two  or 
three  sisters  jointly,  and  they  regard  this  manner  of  con- 
tracting marriages  as  lawful."  Of  the  tribes  of  Brazil  with 
which  the  Spaniards  first  came  in  contact,  Herrera  gives 
the  following  account:  "They  observed  no  law  or  rule  in 
matrimony,  but  took  as  many  wives  as  they  would  and 
they  as  many  husbands,  quitting  one  another  at  pleasure 
without  reckoning  any  wrong  done  to  either  part.  There  was 
no  such  thing  as  jealousy  among  them,  all  living  as  best 
pleased  them  without  taking  offense  at  one  another."  Con- 
trary to  generally  accepted  notions  of  the  evils  inseparable 
from  a  departure  from  European  standards  of  morality,  those 
Indians,  he  says,  "multiplied  very  much,"  and  Herrera  adds 
the  even  more  remarkable  information  that  the  men  "were 
very  modest  in  conversing  with  the  women."  Of  the  Moxos 
Indians  it  is  reported  that,  "according  to  the  ancient  custom 
of  their  nation,  the  women  belong  without  distinction  to  all 
their  relatives."  Among  their  neighbors,  the  Itonamas,  the 
men  willingly  lend  their  wives  to  one  another,  and  the 
women  abandon  themselves  to  all  their  relatives.  The  parents 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  233 

designate  at  birth  the  children  who  shall  intermarry.  Poly- 
androus  marriages  are  reported  from  the  Paraguayan  Chaco; 
and  among  the  Zaparos  of  Ecuador  polyandry  is  usual,  and 
two  men  may  have  five  wives  between  them.  Baron  von 
Humboldt  found  that  among  the  Avanos  and  among  the 
Maypures  of  the  Orinoco  brothers  had  often  but  one  wife 
between  them.  In  Guiana  at  the  present  day  polyandry  is 
common,  and  is  practiced  openly.  A  missionary  endeavoring 
to  persuade  a  Guiana  Indian  to  give  up  polygny,  tried  to 
convince  him  of  the  wickedness  of  the  practice  by  asking 
him  what  he  would  think  of  a  woman  having  several  hus- 
bands. But  the  force  of  the  argument  was  entirely  lost  upon 
the  Indian,  who  replied  that  both  customs  were  equally  hon- 
ored in  his  tribe,  and  that  both  were  practiced.  Among  the 
western  Fuegians,  according  to  the  testimony  of  the  mis- 
sionaries who  are  settled  amongst  them,  polyandry  is  very 
prevalent;  it  is  quite  common  for  several  husbands  to  share 
the  same  wife. 


PROPERTY* 

By  W.  H.  R.  RIVERS 

THE  main  problem  with  which  I  shall  deal  is  how  far  in 
different  human  societies  property  is  held  by  social  groups, 
and  how  far  it  belongs  to  the  individual.  I  shall  also  inquire 
into  the  nature  of  the  group  in  which  common  ownership 
is  vested  when  it  is  present. 

We  shall  find  that  the  matter  is  far  from  simple,  and  that 
in  many  societies  where  the  institution  of  individual  prop- 
erty is  definite,  there  are,  nevertheless,  customs  which  show 
the  existence  of  a  group-interest  in  property  at  variance  with 
individual  rights.  I  may  begin  by  going  briefly  through  the 
different  kinds  of  social  groups  that  have  been  considered, 
and  state  briefly  how  they  stand  in  relation  to  individualism 
and  communism  in  respect  of  property. 

We  may  lay  it  down  as  a  definite  proposition,  that 
wherever  we  find  the  family  (in  the  narrow  sense)  as  the 
dominant  feature  of  the  social  organization  it  is  combined 
with  the  institution  of  individual  property.  The  exact  nature 
of  ownership  may  differ,  and  variations  such  as  those  char- 
acterizing Primogeniture,  Junior  Right,  or  Borough  English, 
and  other  forms  of  inheritance  may  be  found,  but  in  all 
cases  in  which  society  is  founded  mainly  or  altogether  on 
the  family,  property  is  owned  by  individuals.  The  com- 
munity has  certain  claims  on  these  individual  rights  in  the 
form  of  taxation,  etc.,  but  the  prominent  feature  from  the 
broad  comparative  point  of  view  is  the  individual  character 
of  ownership. 

Taking  the  various  Indian  forms  of  the  joint  family  as 
instances  of  this  form  of  social  grouping,  we  find  in  most 
cases  common  ownership  is  a  prominent  feature.  Thus,  in 

*  Social  Organization.  New  York:  Alfred  A.  Knopf,  Inc. 

234 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  ?.^ 

the  joint  family  of  Bengal,  property  is  altogether  in  com- 
mon, while  in  the  mital^shara  system  of  other  parts  of  India 
only  ancestral  property  is  thus  held  in  common,  every  mem- 
ber of  the  group  having  full  rights  over  property  acquired 
by  his  own  exertions.  Property  is  regarded  as  ancestral  when 
it  has  been  transmitted  for  two  generations,  and  it  is  then 
regarded  as  inalienable.  In  the  matrilineal  joint  family  of 
Malabar  property  is  held  in  common,  being  controlled  by 
the  senior  male  member  of  the  group.  In  all  these  forms 
of  the  joint  family  we  have  a  definite  departure  from  in- 
dividual ownership  in  the  direction  of  communal  owner- 
ship, the  special  feature  of  the  communism  being  that 
common  ownership  is  limited  to  a  relatively  small  group 
bound  together  by  close  ties  of  genealogical  relationship  or 
kinship. 

If  now  we  pass  to  the  bilateral  group  of  the  kindred,  we 
find  again  this  feature  of  communal  ownership.  There  is 
evidence  that  in  the  kindreds  of  Northern  Europe  property 
was  to  a  large  extent  in  common,1  and  this  is  certainly  the 
case  in  the  modern  example  I  have  already  cited  more 
than  once,  the  tavhi  of  Eddystone  bland  in  the  Solomons. 
In  this  mode  of  social  grouping  land  and  other  forms  of 
property  are  held  in  common  by  the  taviti,  and  where  a 
person  has  individual  rights  in  his  land  or  other  property 
these  are  subject  to  many  claims  on  the  part  of  other  mem- 
bers of  this  taviti.  I  will  not  describe  the  nature  of  these 
claims  here,  because  they  are  essentially  of  the  same  kind 
as  those  found  in  association  with  the  clan-organization, 
and  can  best  be  exemplified  in  connection  with  that  form 
of  social  organization,  to  which  I  can  now  pass. 

The  study  of  the  relation  of  the  clan  to  property  is  com- 
plicated by  the  feature,  which  we  have  seen  to  produce 
complications  of  the  other  kinds,  that  the  clan-grouping  is 
always,  so  far  as  we  know,  complicated  by  the  co-existence 
of  a  family  grouping  of  some  kind.  Thus,  in  Melanesia  where 
our  information  is  more  exact  than  in  other  parts  of  the 
world,  not  only  is  the  family  in  the  limited  sense  recognized, 


236  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

but  there  are  still  more  definitely  present  examples,  in  one 
form  or  another,  of  the  joint-family.  Thus,  in  the  island  of 
Ambrim,  where  I  was  able  to  obtain  a  detailed  account  of  the 
regulations  concerning  ownership,  it  was  clear  that  the  most 
important  social  group  in  relation  to  property  was  one  called 
vantinbiil.  There  was  some  doubt  about  the  exact  limits 
of  this  group,  but  it  was  certainly  a  kinship  group  consisting 
in  the  main  of  persons  genealogically  related  in  the  male 
line,  though  it  also  included  the  daughters  of  members  and 
their  children,  membership  of  the  vantinbiil  in  the  female 
line  then  lapsing.  In  other  parts  of  Melanesia  the  groups  in 
which  ownership  is  vested  are  kinship  groups  of  this  kind 
rather  than  moieties  or  clans.  Thus,  in  Pentecost  Island> 
which  is  the  seat  of  the  dual  organization,  the  group  which 
held  property  in  common  was  the  one  called  verana,  which, 
so  far  as  I  could  discover  in  a  far  too  brief  investigation,  was 
a  kinship  group  similar  to  the  vantinbiil  of  Ambrim. 

I  have  given  an  account  of  the  Ambrim  mode  of  grouping 
because  I  do  not  think  I  can  better  illustrate  the  nature  of 
the  subject  than  by  taking  this  island  as  an  example  of  the 
ownership  of  a  simple  society.  I  will  begin  with  the  owner- 
ship of  land.  Here  land  was  in  one  sense  held  to  be 
the  property  of  the  clan.  People  of  any  vantinbiil  might 
clear  patches  in  the  uncultivated  land,  which  would  in  time 
become  the  property  of  the  vantinbiil  of  the  clearer.  If  a 
vantinbiil  died  out,  its  land  became  the  property  of  the  vil- 
lage as  a  whole;  it  went  out  of  cultivation  and  then  shared 
the  complete  indifference  of  the  people  to  the  ownership  of 
uncultivated  land. 

It  was  evident  that  in  Ambrim  there  was  no  appearance 
even  of  the  individual  ownership  of  land.  It  was  the  custom 
in  this  island  to  indicate  the  nature  of  the  ownership  of  an 
object  by  means  of  the  possessive  pronoun.  Where  there  was 
individual  ownership  a  man  would  indicate  the  fact  by 
the  use  of  the  personal  pronoun,  and  would  speak  of  "my 
bow  and  arrow"  or  "my  armlet,"  but,  with  one  unimportant 
exception,  he  would  never  speak  of  "my  land,"  and  would 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  237 

always  say  "our  land."  Moreover,  this  mode  of  speech  was 
no  empty  form.  A  man  might  clear  a  piece  of  ground  en- 
tirely by  his  own  labor,  and  might  plant  and  tend  it  without 
help  from  any  one,  but  any  member  of  his  vantinbul  could 
nevertheless  help  himself  to  any  of  its  produce  without  ask- 
ing leave  or  informing  the  cultivator.  Inhabitants  of  the 
village  belonging  to  a  vantinbul  other  than  that  of  the  culti- 
vator might  also  take  produce,  but  had  to  ask  leave.  Since 
such  permission,  however,  was  never  refused,  the  com- 
munism extended  in  practice  to  the  whole  clan.  For  prop- 
erty of  other  kinds  the  case  differed  with  the  kind  of  object. 
The  most  frequent  and  important  fact  determining  the 
nature  of  ownership  in  Ambrim  is  whether  the  object  is 
indigenous  or  introduced,  indigenous  objects  being  owned 
by  the  vantinbul  or  other  larger  group,  while  introduced 
objects  may  be  owned  by  individuals.  A  good  example  ol 
the  chiTcrcnce  is  presented  by  the  weapons  of  Ambrim.  of 
which  there  arc  four:  the  spear,  club,  bow  and  arrow,  and 
sling.  The  first  two  are  common  property,  and  a  man  will 
always  say  "our  spear"  and  "our  club,"  but  on  the  other 
hand,  the  bow  and  arrow  and  sling  are  individually-owned 
objects  and  people  said  "my  bow  and  arrow"  and  "my 
sling."  Associated  with  this  usage  was  a  definite  tiadition 
that  the  people  had  always  had  the  spear  and  club,  while 
the  sling  and  bow  and  arrow  had  been  introduced  from  a 
neighboring  island. 

There  was  some  reason  to  suppose  that  another  factor 
which  had  influenced  ownership  was  whether  an  object  had 
been  made  by  individual  or  common  labor.  Thus,  one  of 
the  objects  of  Melanesian  culture  which  is  usually,  if  not 
always,  the  subject  of  common  ownership  is  the  canoe,  and 
at  one  time  I  had  the  impression  that  this  was  because  it 
was  made  by  common  labor  of  the  community.  It  is  highly 
doubtful  whether  this  is  the  real  explanation,  whether  it  is 
not  rather  the  result  of  rationalization  of  tradition,  which 
must  always  be  borne  in  mind  as  a  possibility  in  the  case  of 
rude,  or  indeed  of  any  explanation  of  social  customs  or  in* 


238  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

stitutions.  For  one  of  the  objects  most  constantly  made  by 
communal  effort  in  Melanesia  is  the  house,  and  yet  this  is 
usually  certainly  in  Ambrim  an  individual  possession,,  or 
at  least  the  possession  of  the  family  in  the  limited  sense. 

Such  facts  as  those,  however,  fail  to  reveal  the  great  extent 
to  which  communistic  sentiments  concerning  property 
dominate  the  people  of  Melanesia.  One  who  lives  among 
Melanesians  is  continually  impressed  by  little  occurrences 
which  indicate  the  strength  and  pervasiveness  of  these  senti- 
ments. I  must  be  content  with  one  example.  When  in  the 
Banks  Islands,  a  small  group  north  of  the  New  Hebrides, 
I  worked  out  the  history  of  a  plot  of  land  which  was  cleared 
about  four  generations  ago.  The  greater  part  of  the  plot 
had  been  divided  up  between  the  children  of  the  clearer, 
and  had  since  been  regarded  as  the  individual  property  of 
their  descendants,  but  part  of  the  original  plot  hjd  been  left 
for  the  common  use  of  all  the  descendants  of  the  original 
clearers.  I  was  told  that  disputes  were  frequent  concerning 
the  portions  of  the  land  which  were  owned  individually, 
while  there  were  never  any  quarrels  concerning  the  part 
which  had  been  left  for  the  common  use  of  all. 

In  one  part  of  Melanesia,  in  Fiji,  which  differs  from  the 
rest  in  the  greater  defmiteness  of  its  chieftainship,  and  in 
several  other  respects,  probably  as  the  result  of  Polynesian 
influence,  the  communism  is  still  more  definite.  Thus,  there 
is  a  custom  called  kcret{ere,  whereby  persons  may  take  the 
property  of  others,  to  such  an  extent  that  it  has  served  as  an 
effectual  bar  to  the  adoption  of  European  methods  of  trad- 
ing. A  Fijian  who  sets  up  as  a  trader  is  liable  to  have  his 
goods  appropriated  by  any  one  who  comes  into  his  store, 
to  such  an  extent  as  to  make  his  success  impossible. 

About  the  Polynesian  Islands  of  the  Pacific  our  informa- 
tion is  less  definite,  but  here  again  it  would  seem  that  com- 
munism exists  in  a  pronounced  form.  I  must  be  content  to 
give  you  an  example  from  my  own  experience.  I  was  travel- 
ing on  a  boat  with  four  inhabitants  of  Niue  or  Savage 
Island,  and  took  the  opportunity  of  inquiring  into  their 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  239 

social  organization.  At  the  end  of  the  sitting  they  said  they 
would  like  now  to  examine  me  about  my  customs,  and,  using 
my  own  concrete  methods,  one  of  the  first  questions  was 
directed  to  discover  what  I  should  do  with  a  sovereign  if 
I  earned  one.  In  response  to  my  somewhat  lame  answers, 
they  asked  me  point-blank  whether  I  should  share  it  with 
my  parents  and  brothers  and  sisters.  When  I  replied  that 
I  would  not  usually,  and  certainly  not  necessarily  do  so,  and 
that  it  was  not  our  general  custom,  they  found  my  reply  so 
amusing  that  it  was  long  before  they  left  off  laughing.  Theii 
attitude  towards  my  individualism  was  o(  exactly  the  same 
order  as  that  which  we  adopt  towards  such  a  custom  as  the 
couvade,  in  which  the  man  goes  to  beJ  when  his  wife  ha> 
a  child,  and  revealed  the  presence  of  a  communistic  senti- 
ment of  a  deeply  seated  kind. 

The  ownership  of  property  in  Oceania  has  other  points  of 
interest,  to  which  I  shall  return  after  sketching  very  briefly 
the  state  of  affairs  in  other  parts  of  the  world. 

The  land-tenure  of  Africa  differs  from  that  of  Melanesia 
in  a  very  striking  respect.  In  Melanesia  chiefs  have  no  func- 
tions in  relation  to  land.  If  they  possess  land  they  own  it 
in  the  same  way,  and  subject  to  the  same  communal  usages 
as  other  persons,  and,  in  one  case  at  least,  they  are  not  even 
landowners,  and  only  obtain  land  tor  their  gardens  by  the 
grace  of  their  subjects.  Among  the  Bantu  of  Africa,  on  the 
other  hand,  the  position  of  chiefs  in  this  respect  is  very  dif- 
ferent. They  hold  the  land  and  distribute  it  among  their 
subjects,  but  they  probably  only  act  in  this  respect  as  the 
representatives  of  the  people  as  a  whole;  for  the  Ba-Ila  have 
a  rule  that  the  chief  may  only  sell  land  after  obtaining  the 
permission  of  his  people.  In  this  case,  and  probably  else- 
where among  the  Bantu,  the  chief  seems  to  be  the  distributor 
of  individual  rights  to  the  use  of  land  rather  than  its  owner. 

According  to  the  available  accounts,  land  assigned  by  a 
Ba-Ila  chief  to  one  of  his  subjects  i ,  regarded  as  the  as- 
signee's individual  property,  but  this  individual  ownership 
is  subject  to  the  restriction  that  any  of  his  elder  relatives  on 


240  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

both  sides  have  the  right  to  take  what  they  want.  We  have 
thus  a  form  of  common  ownership,  or  rather  common 
usufruct,  which  is  similar  to  that  of  Melanesia  in  that  the 
group  concerned  is  a  kinship-group,  but  there  is  the  im- 
portant difference  that  the  right  is  limited  to  the  members 
of  the  group  senior  to  the  owner.  This  rule  also  applies  to 
other  kinds  of  property,  and  Smith  and  Dale  record  how  a 
Ba-Ila  who  has  gained  large  sums  by  his  industry  in  working 
for  European  settlers  may  be  deprived  of  them  all  by  his 
elder  relatives. 

As  in  Melanesia  it  would  seem  that  the  right  of  the  elders, 
which  is  perhaps  derived  from  a  more  extensive  communism, 
is  a  privilege  belonging  to  a  kinship-group  rather  than  to 
the  clan. 

In  a  recent  paper  Dundas  gives  an  instructive  case  of  pure 
individual  ownership  among  a  Bantu  people.  This  occurs 
among  the  Wakarra,  a  tribe  living  on  an  island  every  acre 
of  which  is  cultivated.  Every  piece  of  land  is  privately 
,>wned,  and  Dundas  supposes  that  individual  tenure  has 
evolved  owing  to  the  high  value  which  land  possesses.  This 
'.ribe  is  also  exceptional  in  Africa,  in  that  an  owner  may 
sell  his  land,  but  only  after  consulting  his  kinsmen  in  order 
to  give  them  the  first  option.  This  right  of  the  kin  is  of 
interest  in  relation  to  the  common  rights  of  kinship-groups 
elsewhere  among  the  Bantu. 

Dundas  also  records  an  interesting  case  among  the  Aki- 
kuyu.  They  have  acquired  their  land  from  the  earlier  in- 
habitants. All  the  land  thus  bought  by  a  man  is  held  as  the 
common  property  of  his  descendants.  The  senior  member  of 
the  existing  group  of  descendants  is  regarded  as  the  owner, 
but  only  as  representative  of  the  group.  Land  is  never  sold, 
and  Dundas  says  that  the  Akikuyu  cannot  comprehend  the 
sale  of  land,  by  which  I  suppose  he  means  that  the  sale  of 
land  is  so  foreign  to  their  sentiments  that  they  can  hardly 
ronceive  what  is  meant  when  the  idea  of  a  sale  is  broached. 

In  West  Africa  there  appear  to  be  variations  in  different 
regions,  the  difference  probably  depending  on  the  degree 


SOCIAL    ORGANISATION  24! 

of  influence  of  the  peoples  of  higher  culture  who  have  for 
a  long  time  been  passing  into  the  country  from  the  north, 
Thus,  in  the  northern  parts  of  the  region  of  the  Gold  Coast, 
individual  property  is,  according  to  Cardinall,  as  definite 
an  institution  as  among  ourselves.  On  the  coast  itself,  on 
the  other  hand,  the  land  is  regarded  as  the  property  of  the 
tribe,  but  any  member  of  the  community  is  at  liberty  to 
clear  and  farm  any  portion  of  the  untilled  bush.  The  cleared 
part  is  regarded  as  his  property  so  long  as  he  cultivates  it, 
and  his  right  to  it  is  still  recognized  if  he  should  leave  it 
untilled  for  a  time  in  order  that  it  may  recover  its  fertility. 
In  the  intermediate  region,  farther  inland,  the  individual 
retains  rights  in  the  trees  growing  on  land  which  he  has 
cleared  but  has  then  again  allowed  to  fall  into  disuse,  thus 
presenting  a  further  step  towards  individual  ownership. 

Here,  as  in  Melanesia,  the  chief  has  no  special  powers  in 
connection  with  the  land.  As  he  has  command  over  a  larger 
number  of  laborers,  he  is  able  to  cultivate  more  land  than 
the  rest,  but  otherwise  he  is  no  better  off  than  any  of  his 
subjects.  There  is  a  native  saying,  "Chiefs  command  people, 
not  the  land."  While  the  chiefs  are  thus  devoid  of  special 
privileges  in  relation  to  the  land,  there  is  an  official  called  the 
tindana,  who  has  powers  resting  upon  the  tradition  that  he 
is  the  representative  of  the  original  owners  of  the  soil,  whose 
powers  have  persisted  when  people  from  elsewhere  became 
the  chiefs.  The  tindana  assigns  land  to  new  settlers,  and  he 
is  called  upon  to  intercede  with  the  local  deity  if,  for  any 
reason,  such  as  the  spilling  of  blood  or  other  crime,  the  land 
has  been  polluted  and  there  is  the  danger  of  its  ceasing  to 
yield  its  fruits.  The  tindana  is,  in  fact,  a  priest,  and  receives 
for  his  services  a  basket  of  corn  or  other  payment,  which 
seems  to  correspond  closely  with  the  tithe  of  our  own  culture. 

In  North  America  there  are  many  intermediate  states  be- 
tween individual  and  communal  ownership,  but,  as  in 
Melanesia,  where  there  is  common  ownership  this  seems  to 
be  vested  in  some  form  of  the  joint  family,  i.e.,  in  a  kinship- 
group  rather  than  in  the  clan. 


242  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

The  case  which  has  been  supposed  to  point  most  definitely 
to  ownership  by  the  clan  is  that  of  the  Aztecs  of  Mexico, 
where,  according  tcr  some  authorities,  the  group  called  cat- 
pulli,  which  is  usually  supposed  to  have  been  a  clan,  though 
its  exact  nature  is  doubtful,  seems  to  have  held  land  in 
common.  But  the  constitution  of  the  calpulli  is  doubtful, 
and  there  is  reason  to  believe  that  it  was  a  kinship-group 
of  some  kind  rather  than  a  clan.  Whatever  the  exact  nature 
of  the  tenure  may  have  been,  however,  it  seems  certain  that 
it  had  one  feature  which  distinguished  it  markedly  from 
the  land-tenure  of  Melanesia  and,  at  the  same  time,  caused 
it  to  resemble  the  early  tenures  of  Europe.  The  land  of  the 
calpulli  was  parceled  out  among  the  male  members  of  the 
group,  each  of  whom  had  to  cultivate  his  allotment,  and 
if  any  one  failed  in  this  duty  the  land  was  reallotted  at  the 
end  of  two  years  and  assigned  to  other  members  of  the 
calpulli.  We  have  here  a  state  intermediate  between  com- 
munal property  and  individual  possession  closely  comparable 
with  that  of  our  own  history. 

The  ownership  of  other  kinds  of  property  in  North  Amer- 
ica seems  to  have  been  individual  rather  than  communal, 
although  we  have  singularly  little  information  on  the  point. 
Superficially  there  is  little  question  that  individual  owner- 
ship is  definite,  but  it  is  a  question  whether  here,  as  in 
other  parts  of  the  world,  more  detailed  investigation  would 
not  show  the  existence  of  rights  of  other  members  of  the 
group  to  objects  which  are  said  to  be  the  individual  property 
of  some  members  of  the  group.  Dr.  Paul  Radin  has  given 
me  an  interesting  example  pointing  in  this  direction.  When 
buying  an  ancient  pipe  from  a  member  of  the  Winnebago 
tribe  he  found  that  a  reluctance  to  sell  was  due  to  the  senti- 
ment of  the  rest  of  the  group,  in  this  case  the  joint-family. 
It  was  acknowledged  by  all  that  the  pipe  was  the  property 
of  the  vendor,  and  that  he  had  a  complete  right  to  sell  it, 
but  the  whole  group  was  animated  by  a  sentiment  towards 
the  object  which,  was  acting  as  a  definite  bar  to  alienation.  It 
is  possible  that  in  this  case  the  sentiment  was  no  more  than 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  243 

would  exist  in  such  a  case  among  ourselves.  Thus,  to  take 
a  recent  instance,  the  intention  of  the  Duke  of  Westminster 
to  sell  Gainsborough's  "Blue  Boy"  might  be  hindered  by 
the  existence  among  the  Grosvenor  family  of  a  sentiment 
against  the  sale,  and  in  some  cases  the  sentiment  might  prove 
an  effectual  bar  to  alienation.  In  the  case  of  our  own  society 
such  rights  have  become  the  subject  of  definite  social  regula- 
tions, which  make  up  what  we  call  law.  Where  law  is  only 
customary,  and  has  not  been  fixed  in  definite  form  by  means 
of  writing,  there  must  always  be  an  element  of  doubt  as  to 
whether  a  given  act  is  definitely  illegal  or  only  an  offense 
against  a  sentiment  of  the  society,  and  Dr.  Radin's  case 
seems  to  be  open  to  doubt  of  this  kind. 

I  should  like  here  to  consider  briefly  a  widespread  case 
of  ownership  which  has  aroused  much  interest.  I  refer  to 
the  custom  by  which  a  person  may  own  trees  growing  on 
land  which  belongs  to  another.  This  custom  is  frequent,  for 
instance,  in  Melanesia.  Thus,  in  Ecldystone  Island  a  person 
is  allowed  to  plant  a  tree  on  the  land  of  another,  and  this  is 
regarded  as  the  property  of  himself  and  his  descendants.  In 
other  cases  the  separate  ownership  depends  upon  different 
laws  of  inheritance:  while  land  on  which  trees  are  planted 
passes,  according  to  ancient  custom,  to  the  children  of  the 
sister,  the  trees  which  a  man  has  planted  on  this  land  may  be 
inherited  by  his  own  children;  and  it  seems  clear  that  this 
forms  a  social  mechanism  by  which  the  separate  ownership 
of  trees  and  land  has  come  about.  I  believe  that  these  customs 
in  general  are  the  result  of  the  blending  of  peoples,  patri- 
lineal  immigrants  having  succeeded  in  transmitting  their 
trees  to  their  children,  while  the  land  itself  has  to  follow  the 
laws  of  matrilineal  inheritance  of  the  indigenous  in- 
habitants. 

According  to  another  Melanesian  custom,  an  individual 
may  obtain  the  sole  right  to  use  the  fruit  of  certain  trees  by 
means  of  religious  ceremonial.  Thus,  in  the  island  of 
Ambrim  in  the  New  Hebrides,  certain  trees  are  assigned 
to  individuals  as  part  of  the  rites  by  which  men  rise  from 


244  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

rank  to  rank  of  a  graded  organization  called  the  Mangge, 
which  plays  a  great  part  in  the  social  organization  of  the 
people,  and  trees  may  also  be  appropriated  to  individual  use 
by  means  of  taboo  marks,  theft  of  the  protected  fruit  being 
believed  to  bring  sickness  on  the  offender  through  the 
action  of  ancestral  ghosts.  Similarly,  in  Eddystone  Island 
in  the  Solomons,  the  fruit  of  certain  trees  may  only  be  used 
by  an  individual  who  pays  one  with  the  necessary  powers 
to  impose  a  taboo,  infringement  of  the  taboo  being  believed, 
as  in  Ambrim,  to  bring  disease  upon  the  thief.  The  nature 
•of  the  trees  thus  protected  suggests  that  they  may  have  been 
introduced  by  immigrants  who  utilized  religious  beliefs,  also 
introduced  by  them,  to  confine  usufruct  and  ownership  to 
themselves  and  their  descendants.  When  I  suggested  this 
mode  of  origin  of  the  practice  at  a  meeting  at  which  several 
African  ethnographers  were  present,  it  was  objected  that 
such  a  mechanism  could  not  apply  to  the  separate  owner- 
ship of  trees  in  Africa,  but  I  note  a  significant  passage  in 
Cardinall's  account  of  the  Gold  Coast,  which  suggests  that 
my  explanation  may  also  hold  good  there,  at  any  rate 
in  some  cases.  Cardinall  notes  that  in  one  district  certain 
trees,  including  the  locust-bean,  are  owned  by  the  chiefs. 
There  is  clear  evidence  that  the  chiefs  are  descendants  of 
immigrants,  and  Cardinall  expressly  notes  that  the  locust- 
bean  is  not  indigenous  to  the  country.  He  believes  that  the 
right  of  the  chiefs  was  obtained  from  the  tindana,  but  the 
foreign  origin  of  the  locust-bean  suggests  that  its  ownership 
by  the  chiefs  may  have  had  an  origin  similar  to  that  to  which 
I  have  referred  the  similar  custom  of  Melanesia. 

The  general  conclusion  which  can  be  drawn  from  the 
foregoing  account  is  that  both  in  Melanesia  and  Africa  there 
is  much  evidence  for  an  early  state  of  communal  ownership 
of  land  and  of  certain  kinds  of  property,  while  in  Melanesia 
there  is  reason  to  believe  that  individual  ownership  has  come 
about  as  the  result  of  influence  from  without.  On  the  other 
hand,  in  those  cases  in  which  we  have  the  most  definite 
evidence  of  communal  ownership,  the  group  concerned  is 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  245 

not  the  clan  but  a  group  within  the  clan  or  moiety,  which 
consists  of  kin,  o£  persons  related  to  one  another  by  kinship 
and  not  by  sibship.  Behind  the  definite  regulations  concern- 
ing ownership  by  these  smaller  groups  there  is  often  the 
tradition  of  ownership  by  the  clan,  and  it  seems  probable 
that  there  was  at  one  time  common  ownership  by  the  clan 
or  moiety  which  has  been  replaced,  at  any  rate  in  practice, 
by  ownership  in  which  the  common  rights  rest  on  kinship. 
I  have  dealt  in  this  chapter  especially  with  the  topics  of 
communal  and  individual  ownership,  and  I  may  now  con- 
sider briefly  whether  the  distinction  between  the  two  kinds 
of  ownership  can  be  correlated  with  different  modes  of  in- 
heritance. The  problem  is  important,  because  if  communal 
ownership  was  associated  with  the  clan-organization,  and  if, 
as  we  have  reason  to  believe,  there  is  an  association  between 
this  form  of  organization  and  motherright,  we  should  ex- 
pect to  find  a  correlation  between  communal  ownership  and 
inheritance  by  the  sister's  children,  rather  than  by  the  own 
children.  Here,  as  in  general,  we  are  hampered  by  the 
paucity  of  evidence.  In  Melanesia  the  information  given  by 
Codrington  would  lead  us  definitely  to  the  view  that  com- 
munal ownership  and  inheritance  by  the  sister's  children  run 
together.  On  the  other  hand,  Codrington's  work  was  almost 
entirely  confined  to  the  matrilineal  regions  of  Melanesia, 
and  my  own  work  has  shown  the  existence  of  communal 
ownership  of  the  most  definite  kind  in  two  purely  patrilineal 
societies.  Nevertheless,  there  are  facts  pointing  definitely  to 
the  close  connection  between  communal  ownership  and 
fatherright  on  the  other  hand.  Thus,  it  is  significant  that 
trees  which,  a«s  we  have  seen,  are  owned  individually,  are 
in  general  inherited  by  the  children,  while  the  land  on  which 
they  grow  passes  to  the  sister's  children.  Again,  such  organi- 
zations as  the  Mangge  of  Ambrim,  through  the  agency  of 
which  men  attain  the  individual  ownership  of  trees,  are 
certainly  due  to  a  patrilineal  society  which  has  been  imposed* 
upon  an  older  matrilineaJ  basis,  While  the  evidence  cannot 


246  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

be  regarded  as  conclusive,  there  is  much  evidence  from 
Melanesia  of  the  association  of  communal  ownership  with 
motherright. 

When  we  turn  to  Africa,  on  the  other  hand,  evidence  bear- 
ing on  this  problem  is  almost  wholly  lacking.  Thus,  Car- 
dinall,  who  has  given  us  the  most  explicit  and  complete 
account  of  land-tenure  which  we  possess  from  any  African 
Society,  gives  us  no  information  whatever  of  the  nature 
of  descent,  and  none  of  those  details  of  inheritance  and 
ownership  which  so  often  enable  us  to  infer  the  nature  of 
earlier  forms  of  social  organization.  His  evidence  makes  it 
clear  that  communal  ownership  goes  back  to  an  early  state 
of  society  of  which  the  tindana  is  a  survival,  but  we  have 
no  evidence  by  which  we  can  infer  of  what  kind  this  early 
society  was. 

I  cannot  leave  the  subject  of  communal  ownership  with- 
out a  brief  reference  to  its  association  with  sexual  com- 
munism. Here  again  our  most  satisfactory  evidence  comes 
from  Melanesia,  where  there  is  a  fairly  definite  association 
of  the  two  kinds  of  communism.  In  several  parts  of 
Melanesia  there  is  definite  evidence  for  the  association  of 
communal  ownership  with  customs  which  point  to  the 
existence  in  the  past  of  organized  sexual  communism,  whicu 
is  still  present  here  and  there  in  Melanesia.  The  association 
is  not,  however,  invariable.  In  Eddystone  Island,  which 
presents  one  of  the  most  definite  examples  of  communal 
ownership,  the  practice  of  monogamy  exists  in  a  degree 
which  puts  it  far  above  that  of  our  own  society,  but  it  may 
be  noted  that  the  very  strict  limitation  of  sexual  relations  only 
occurs  after  marriage,  and  that  before  marriage  there  is  a 
state  of  organized  communism  which  may  be  the  survival 
of  an  earlier  state  in  which  this  communism  also  existed 
after  marriage. 

,  I  have  confined  my  attention  here  almost  exclusively  to 
the  topics  of  individual  and  communal  ownership  and  the 
influence  upon  inheritance  of  the  states  of  father-  and 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  247 

motherright.  I  may  conclude  by  giving  a  few  examples  from 
rude  peoples  of  customs  which  exist  or  have  existed  among 
ourselves.  Thus,  in  Melanesia  there  are  customs  which  re- 
semble that  known  among  ourselves  as  heriot.  When,  in 
some  parts  of  Melanesia,  the  owner  of  a  tree  growing  upon 
the  land  of  another  dies,  the  heir  has  to  make  a  payment 
to  the  owner  of  the  land,  or,  when  property  passes  to  the 
son  of  an  owner,  a  similar  payment  is  made  by  the  heir  to 
the  sister's  children  of  the  deceased. 

Again,  the  custom  of  junior  right,  in  which  the  youngest 
son  is  the  chiefs  heir,  of  which  our  own  custom  of  Borough 
English  is  an  example,  exists  in  many  rude  societies.  In 
some  cases  it  has  a  feature  which  suggests  the  origin  of 
the  practice.  It  is  sometimes  the  rule  that  the  youngest  son 
inherits  the  house,  while  the  oiher  kinds  of  property  pass 
to  his  eldest  brothers,  or  are  shared  by  all.  This  practice 
seems  to  be  the  result  of  the  custom  by  which  the  sons, 
as  they  marry,  set  up  establishments  of  their  own,  so  that, 
when  the  father  dies,  only  the  youngest  son  is  still  living  at 
home. 

Problems  of  especial  interest  arise  again  in  connection 
with  primogeniture.  In  Melanesia  certainly,  and  probably 
in  other  parts  of  the  world,  while  the  eldest  son  has  no 
special  rights  in  relation  to  inheritance,  he  is  the  subject 
of  special  ceremonial  which  does  not  take  place  in  the  case 
of  later  children.  There  is  reason  to  believe  that  in  some 
parts  of  the  world  these  customs  may  be  connected  with  the 
belief  in  reincarnation — the  belief  that  the  ghost  of  the 
father,  or  more  frequently  of  the  father's  father,  is  rein- 
carnated in  the  eldest  child — and  that  this  belief  accounts 
for  the  special  treatment.  The  belief  in  such  reincarnation 
has  a  wide  distribution  and  it  therefore  becomes  possible 
that  the  privileged  position  of  the  eldest  child  in  other 
societies,  possibly  even  in  our  own,  in  relation  to  property 
may  be  connected  with  a  similar  belief.  In  India,  however 
the  evidence  is  against  any  connection  between  primogeni 


248  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

ture  and  reincarnation;  it  is  not  necessarily  the  eldest  son 
whom  the  ghost  of  the  grandfather  inhabits,  but  any  son 
who  is  born  soon  after  the  death  of  the  grandfather. 


NOTE 

1  Philpotts,  Kindred  and  Clan. 


THE  SOLIDARITY  OF  THE  INDIVIDUAL  WITH 
HIS  GROUP  * 

By  LUCIEN  LEVY-BRUHL 

AFTER  having  studied  the  instances  given  in  the  Introduc- 
tion we  are,  I  consider,  authorized  in  presuming  that  the 
primitive  does  not  conceive  the  connection  between  a  living 
being  and  its  species  quite  as  we  do.  When  a  leopard,  or  a 
mouse,  for  instance,  is  actually  present  to  his  sight  or  is 
imagined  by  him,  the  representation  of  it  is  not  differentiated 
in  his  mind  from  another,  a  more  general  image  which, 
though  not  a  concept,  comprises  all  similar  beings.  This 
grasps  them  in  their  ensemble,  dominates  them  and  fre- 
quently, if  his  mind  dwells  upon  them,  seems  to  engender 
them.  The  representation  of  it  is  characterized  both  by  the 
objective  qualities  which  the  primitive  perceives  in  beings 
of  this  kind,  and  by  the  emotions  they  arouse  in  him.  It 
is  somewhat  analogous  to  the  way  in  which,  during  the 
Great  War,  many  people  would  talk  of  "the  Boche,"  and  as 
many  colonists  in  Algeria  talk  of  "the  Arab,"  or  many 
Americans  of  "the  black  man."  It  denotes  a  kind  of  essence 
or  type,  too  general  to  be  an  image,  and  too  emotional  to  be 
a  concept.  Nevertheless  it  seems  to  be  clearly  defined,  above 
all  by  the  sentiments  which  the  sight  of  an  individual  of 
the  species  evokes,  and  the  reactions  it  sets  up. 

Similarly,  the  idea  which  primitives  have  of  plants  and 
animals  is  both  positive  and  also  mystic.  They  are  able  to 
select  the  edible  fruits  and  nearly  always,  when  their  condi- 
tion is  a  sufficiently  settled  one,  they  know  how  to  cultivate 
certain  plants  and  how  to  treat  those  which,  like  the  manioc, 
are  originally  noxious;  they  can  hunt  or  lay  traps  for  the 

*  The  Soul  of  the  Primitive.  New  York:  The  Macmillan  Co. 

249 


r;0  .         THEMAKINGOFMAN 

hrger  animals,  birds,  fishes,  etc.  But  on  the  other  hand,  *as 
Gutmann  has  clearly  shown,  they  have  a  great  respect  for 
the  outstanding  faculties  of  plants  and  animals,  which  so 
marvelously  suffice  unto  themselves,  and  which  therefore 
possess  an  ability,  or  rather,  a  power  that  man  would  gladly 
share  with  them.  Hence  their  attitude  with  regard  to  them, 
not  in  any  way  like  ours,  that  of  a  superior  being,  an  ir- 
responsible master.  Hence,  too,  the  complex  sentiments  of 
astonishment  and  admiration  and  sometimes  even  of  ven- 
eration, and  the  need,  as  it  were,  of  assimilating  themselves 
to  them,  which  lend  the  primitives'  images  of  these  beings 
a  semi-religious  character. 

Such  an  aspect  of  them  necessarily  escapes  our  conscious- 
ness. It  contains  affective  elements  which  we  do  not  ex- 
perience, and,  on  the  other  hand,  we  are  not  able  to  think 
unless  definite  concepts  of  plants  and  animals  occupy  our 
thoughts.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  primitive's  mind  does 
not  picture  either  the  individual  or  the  species  exactly,  but 
both  at  the  same  time,  one  within  the  other.  As  I  have 
already  recalled  above,  and  as  many  observers  have  noted— 
A.  R.  Brown  in  the  Andaman  Islands,  Junod  and  others 
among  the  Bantus — we  can  get  some  idea  of  what  is  in  their 
minds  through  the  personages  of  our  old  fairy  stories  of 
childhood.  The  bear,  the  hare,  the  fox,  tortoise,  and  so  on 
— and  the  personification  of  their  species.  Thus,  whatever 
may  happen  to  an  animal  in  the  story,  if  he  is  killed,  for 
instance,  it  does  not  prevent  him  from  reappearing  alive, 
often  in  the  same  story.  As  far  as  the  individual  is  con- 
cerned, he  undergoes  all  possible  catastrophes,  and  even 
death,  but  in  so  far  as  he  is  a  type,  he  is  imperishable,  in- 
destructible, comprising  in  himself  the  infinite  multiplicity 
of  the  individuals  of  his  species.  Smith  and  Dale  have  noted 
this  trait  in  the  folk-lore  of  the  Ba-ila.  "To  us  there  is  a 
lack  of  coherence  in  many  of  the  details,  and  explicit  con- 
tadictions  pull  us  up  and  spoil  our  pleasure;  as  when 
Fulwe,  after  being  cooked  and  eaten,  gives  Sulwe  his  doom. 
But  such  things  do  not  worry  the  Ba-ila  or  detract  from  their 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION1  251 

enjoyment.  For  one  thing,  Fulwe,  though  dead,  lives  in  his 
face;  it  is  a  mere  accident  that  one  individual  dies;  it  is  the 
ideal  Fulwe,  not  the  Fulwe  who  merely  breathes,  but  the 
Fulwe  in  the  narrator's  mind,  and  he  is  immortal."1  Tc 
use  the  terms  of  Plato,  the  Ba-ila  represent  to  themselves  the 
"idea"  of  him. 

It  is  not  in  stories  alone,  but  also  in  everyday  life  that  the 
primitive  mind  tends  to  confuse  the  individual  and  the 
species.  As  Miss  Benedict  remarks  of  the  Bagobo:  "The 
killing  of  a  snake,  though  perhaps  not  carrying  a  direct 
prohibition,  is  regarded  as  unwise,  in  view  of  the  atti- 
tude which  the  snake  community  might  assume  toward  the 
offender.  .  .  .  They  told  me  that  if  the  snake  had  been  put 
to  death  all  its  relatives  and  friends  might  have  come  to 
bite  us."  2  (In  this  case  a  snake,  encountered  upon  the  road, 
had  been  carefully  removed  but  not  killed.)  This  solidarity 
among  snakes  implies  that  they  are  imagined,  or  rather, 
\clt,  to  be  all  participating  in  the  same  essence. 

Instead  of  snakes,  it  may  be  animals,  of  such  a  kind 
that  man  can  hardly  choose  whether  he  is  to  spare  or  to 
kill  them;  he  may  be  obliged  to  pursue  them  and  take  their 
lives  that  he  may  feed  upon  them.  He  will  then  take 
the  greatest  precautions  not  to  offend  his  game,  and,  so  that 
he  may  be  forgiven  the  necessary  slaughter,  he  will  re- 
pudiate it.  The  invocations  and  charms  before  the  departure 
and  during  the  expedition  (hunting  or  fishing),  the  excuses 
and  supplications  after  the  death  of  the  animal,  are  not 
addressed  solely  to  the  one  about  to  be  pursued,  or  the 
one  killed,  but,  through  it,  to  all  its  species,  and  the  species 
in  its  very  essence  or,  as  Smith  and  Dale  express  it,  in  the 
"idea"  of  it.  The  real  individual  is  not  such  and  such  a 
stag  or  such  and  such  a  whale,  but  the  Stag,  the  Whale. 

This  leads  at  once  to  two  results.  In  the  first  place,  a  very 
close  connectioA  unites  animals  of  the  same  species.  Their 
individuality  is  but  relative,  and  they  are  actually  only 
multiple  and  transient  expressions  of  a  single  and  imper- 
ishable homogeneous  essence.  Offend  one,  and  you  incense 


252  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

them  all.  Should  you  be  so  unwise  as  to  speak  ill  of  one 
of  them  and  irritate  it,  it  is  not  that  one  alone  of  which 
you  must  beware,  for  all  will  avenge  the  insult.  Or  again, 
all  will  escape  you.  It  is  not  one  certain  stag  which  will  not 
let  you  perceive  or  approach  him;  the  unlucky  hunter  will 
see  none  of  them.  So,  too,  if  a  forbidden  word  has  been 
uttered,  all  the  trees  of  a  certain  species  become  invisible 
to  the  eye.  When  at  last  the  game  has  been  captured  he  is 
entreated  thus:  "Do  not  tell  your  companions  or  your 
fellow-creatures  that  we  have  injured  you,  for  it  is  not  we 
who  have  taken  your  life.  On  the  contrary,  we  are  offering 
you  food,  fresh  water,  weapons,  everything  that  can  please 
you.  Tell  the  rest  how  well  we  have  treated  you,"  etc. 

The  hunter's  concern  in  this  particular  is  particularly 
well-depicted  in  the  Relations  de  la  Nouv die-France.  "The 
savages,"  says  the  missionary  Le  Jeune,  "do  not  throw  to  the 
dogs  the  bones  of  beavers  or  female  porcupines — at  any 
rate,  only  certain  specified  bones;  in  short,  they  take  very 
good  care  that  the  dogs  do  not  eat  the  bones  of  the  birds  or 
any  animals  caught  in  the  nets,  for  otherwise  they  would 
have  immense  difficulty  in  catching  others  of  the  species. 
Again,  there  are  countless  regulations  to  be  observed  in  this 
respect,  for  it  does  not  matter  if  the  vertebrae  and  the  rump 
are  given  to  the  dogs,  but  the  rest  must  be  thrown  into  the 
fire.  In  any  case,  for  the  beaver  which  is  ensnared  it  is  best 
to  throw  its  bones  into  a  river.  It  is  remarkable  that  they 
collect  these  bones  and  preserve  them  so  carefully,  that  you 
would  think  their  hunt  would  be  useless  if  they  had  con- 
travened their  superstitions. 

"Whenever  I  laughed  at  them  and  told  them  that  the 
beavers  did  not  know  what  happened  to  their  bones,  they 
used  to  say:  'You  don't  know  how  to  trap  beavers,  and  yet 
you  want  to  tell  us  about  them.'  Before  the  beaver  is  actually 
dead,  they  told  me,  his  spirit  would  come  and  look  round  the 
hut  of  the  man  who  had  taken  him  and  he  would  notice 
very  carefully  what  had  been  done  with  his  bones.  If  they 
had  been  given  to  thr  dogs,  the  other  beavers  would  have 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  253 

been  warned,  and  that  would  make  it  very  difficult  to  snar< 
them,  but  they  are  quite  content  to  have  their  bones  thrown 
into  the  fire  or  into  the  river,  and  the  net  which  has  ensnared 
them  is  especially  pleased  about  it.  I  told  them  that  the 
Iroquois,  according  to  the  report  given  by  the  one  who  was 
with  us,  threw  the  bones  of  the  beavers  to  the  dogs,  and  yet 
they  caught  a  good  many,  and  that  our  French  hunters  took 
incomparably  more  than  they  did,  nevertheless  our  dogj 
ate  the  bones.  'There  is  no  sense  in  what  you  say/  was  their 
reply;  'don't  you  see  that  both  you  and  the  Iroquois  cultivate 
the  soil  and  reap  the  harvest,  and  we  do  not;  therefore  it  is 
not  the  same  thing  at  all.'  When  I  heard  this  irrelevant  reply, 
I  began  to  laugh." 3 

No  doubt  the  Indians  wished  the  missionary  to  under- 
stand that  the  Iroquois  and  the  French  alike  did  not  depend, 
as  they  did,  on  living  by  the  good  will  of  the  animals  they 
were  hunting,  and  thus  had  not  the  same  urgent  need  to 
conciliate  the  species  to  which  their  victims  belonged.  In  the 
lines  which  follow  the  passage  just  quoted,  Father  Le  Jeune 
is  deploring  the  fact  that  he  knows  so  little  of  the  Indians' 
language.  We  may  well  ask  ourselves,  therefore,  if  the  ex- 
pression he  uses  really  renders  their  thought  when  he  is 
speaking  of  the  "spirit"  of  the  beaver  coming  into  the  hut 
to  see  what  has  become  of  its  bones.  What  is  certain  is  that 
the  other  beavers,  according  to  the  Indians,  have  been  told 
about  it.  The  treatment  meted  out  to  one  animal  is  im- 
mediately known  and  resented  by  its  companions.  The 
Indian  is  fully  persuaded  of  this,  and  his  actions  bear  it  out. 

As  to  the  sum-total  of  plants  or  animals  of  a  certain 
species  living  at  present,  the  primitive  does  not  even  attempt 
to  imagine  it.  To  him  it  represents  an  indefinite  multiplicity, 
which  he  regards  collectively  as  he  would  his  own  hair,  or 
the  stars  in  the  sky.  He  does  not  think  of  this  as  an  abstract 
idea,  yet  he  needs  to  represent  it  in  some  form  or  other 
to  himself,  since  he  feels  it  to  be  more  real  than  the  indi- 
viduals composing  it.  His  representation  is  reported  to'us 
in  varied  forms,  although  these  are  all  somewhat  related  to 


254  fHE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

each  other.  It  is  probable  that  their  diversity  depends,  at 
any  rate  partially,  on  the  greater  or  lesser  degree  of  exact- 
ness in  the  observations  made,  according  to  whether  the 
observers  understand  much  or  little  of  the  language  and 
the  mentality  of  the  natives  studied,  and  whether  these  are 
more  or  less  disposed  to  reveal  what  they  really  think,  as 
•well  as  the  degree  of  capability  they  possess  in  doing  so  when 
their  consent  is  obtained.  For  it  often  happens  that  the 
white  man  is  asking  them  to  define  for  him  something  that 
they  have  never  yet  formulated  to  themselves.  We  can  there- 
fore guess  at  the  value  of  the  reply  he  is  likely  to  get. 

It  is  once  again  Father  Le  Jeune,  one  of  the  best  of  the 
Jesuit  observers  of  New  France,  from  whom  we  borrow  a 
fairly  precise  description  of  the  idea  we  are  now  following 
up.  "They  say  that  all  animals  of  every  kind  have  an  elder 
brother  who  is  as  it  were  the  source  and  origin  of  all  in- 
dividuals, and  that  this  elder  brother  is  wondrously  great 
and  powerful.  The  beavers'  elder  brother,  one  of  them  told 
me,  is  about  as  big  as  our  hut,  whilst  the  young  ones  (by 
which  I  understand  the  ordinary  beavers)  are  not  quite  as 
big  as  our  sheep.  It  appears  that  the  elders  of  all  animals 
are  the  juniors  of  the  Messou  (the  Manitou?).  He  is,  there- 
fore, well-connected,  the  worthy  restorer  of  the  universe  is 
the  elder  brother  of  all  the  animals.  If  during  sleep  this  eldest 
animal  or  principle  of  animal  life  is  seen,  the  hunting  will 
be  successful;  if  the  dreamer  sees  the  senior  of  the  beavers, 
he  will  trap  beavers;  if  it  be  the  senior  moose-deer,  he  will 
catch  them,  and  revel  in  the  possession  of  the  juniors  by 
favor  of  the  senior  he  has  seen  in  his  dreams.  I  asked  them 
where  these  elder  brothers  were.  'We  are  not  quite  certain,' 
they  said,  'but  we  believe  that  the  senior  birds  are  in  the 
sky  and  the  other  seniors  in  the  seal!' " 

This  principle,  this  "elder  brother,"  then,  is  a  kind  of  per- 
sonified genius  of  the  species,  in  whom  individuals  of  the 
species,  the  younger  brothers,  participate,  and  which  makes 
them  what  they  are.  Here  it  seems  as  if  we  can  understand 
the  primitive's  thought  without  difficulty.  The  idea  of  genius 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  2^ 

of  a  species  is  familiar  to  us,  and  even  natural.  It  has  some 
affinity  with  the  "archetypes"  of  the  philosophers.  Let  ur 
be  cautious,  however,  lest  we  be  deceived  by  words.  When 
we  speak  of  the  genius  of  a  species  we  have  first  represented 
to  ourselves  collectively  the  animals  or  plants  which  compose 
it,  we  have  framed  a  general  abstract  idea  of  it.  Later  we 
interpret  this  concept  of  ours  by  a  concrete,  perceptible  form, 
and  thus  the  genius  of  the  species  is  a  more  or  less  expres- 
sive and  living  symbol,  according  to  the  imaginations  en- 
gaged upon  it.  In  all  cases,  however,  for  us  this  personifica- 
tion of  the  species  comes  after  the  concept  and  presupposes 
it.  The  very  language  we  speak  would  itself  be  enough  to 
impose  this  order  on  us. 

The  process  through  which  the  primitive  mind  works 
is  quite  different,  however.  To  it  the  genius  of  a  species  is 
not  a  more  or  less  concrete  symbol  which  follows  after  the 
concept,  for  primitive  mentality  has  no  abstract  general 
ideas,  or  at  any  rate,  if  it  possesses  any,  they  are  vague  and 
indefinite.  The  representation  of  the  genius  takes  their 
place.  Since  it  is  veritably  the  source,  as  Father  Le  Jeune 
puts  it,  and  the  substance  of  the  individuals  which  par- 
ticipate in  it,  it  is  this  which  constitutes  the  element  of  gen- 
erality, and  this  which  is  at  the  very  center  of  the  particular 
representation  of  each  individual  of  the  species. 

It  now  becomes  very  difficult  to  locate  ourselves  at  the 
point  of  view  of  primitive  mentality.  To  tell  the  truth,  we 
can  hardly  flatter  ourselves  that  we  ever  really  arrive  there. 
We  cannot  expunge  from  our  minds  concepts  which  they 
have  possessed  from  infancy,  or  suddenly  do  away  with 
the  use  and  the  memory  of  words  that  we  have  always 
employed.  How  can  we  feel,  as  primitives  do,  that  when 
an  animal  has  been  wounded  or  killed,  not  only  are  all  the 
others  of  his  species  immediately  warned,  but  that  in  reality 
it  is  not  a  particular  individual  but  the  very  species  per- 
sonified in  its  essence  and  in  its  genius  that  has  been  struck 
down?  If  it  were  merely  the  case  of  a  certain  lion  or  a 
certain  stag  the  hunter  would  not  trouble  any  more  about 


256  THEMAKINGOFMAN 

it.  He  would  leave  the  wild  beast  there,  he  would  eat  the 
game,  and  there  would  be  an  end  of  the  matter.  But  it  is 
not  solely  a  certain  particular  animal  that  he  has  killed; 
he  has  attacked  the  mystic  essence  of  all  lions  or  all  stags, 
and  this,  as  Father  Le  Jeune  says,  is  "wondrously  great  and 
powerful,"  and  hence  indestructible.  A  mortal  man's  blows 
cannot  endanger  it.  The  Eskimo  who  slays  an  immense 
number  of  caribou  does  not  imagine  that  these  animals  will 
ever  disappear.  If  they  become  scarce  and  he  finally  sees 
none  at  all,  he  will  account  for  the  fact  by  some  mystic 
reason.  The  caribou  continue  to  exist  and  are  no  less  nu- 
merous, even  if  they  have  been  slain  in  thousands,  but  now 
they  are  refusing  themselves,  that  is  to  say,  the  genius  of 
their  species  has  withdrawn  his  favor  from  the  men  whom 
he  formerly  permitted  to  track  and  slay  them. 

It  is  thus  essential  to  retain  his  good  graces  at  any  price. 
If  through  some  fault,  such  as  the  violation  of  a  taboo, 
neglect  of  a  rite  or  ceremony  or  incantation,  a  man  has  been 
unfortunate  enough  to  lose  them,  it  is  absolutely  necessary 
to  regain  them.  The  safety  and  well-being  of  the  group 
depend  upon  its  relations  with  these  "genii,"  with  the 
mystic  principles  of  certain  vegetable  or  animal  species. 
If  these  relations  are  strained,  he  is  in  danger,  and  if  they 
break,  life  is  no  longer  possible  for  him.  The  hunter  may 
then  spend  days  and  nights  in  the  forest  and  the  fisherman 
in  his  canoe;  neither  will  catch  anything.  His  wives,  chil- 
dren, and  he  himself  will  die — unless  the  tribe  is  no  longer 
nomadic,  at  any  rate  at  certain  seasons,  or  unless  his  wives 
know  how  to  cultivate  plantations  and  fields.  It  is  thus  easy 
to  account  for  the  unusual  honors  rendered  by  the  hunter 
and  his  family  to  the  animal  slain — that  is,  in  reality  to  the 
genius  of  its  species.  Since  the  rites  have  both  a  persuasive 
and  a  constraining  influence,  the  primitive  is  sure  that,  if 
everything  has  been  carried  out  as  it  should  be,  the  relations 
between  himself  and  this  genius  will  remain  satisfactory. 
Future  hunting  and  fishing  expeditions  will  once  more 
turn  out  well. 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  257 

In  other  regions,  it  is  not  of  the  genius  of  a  species  of 
plants  or  animals  that  a  man  talks,  but  of  its  ancestor,  its 
chief,  master,  or  king.  He  personifies  the  "mother  of  the 
rice"  which  bears  it  and  makes  it  grow,  and  allows  it  to  be 
gathered.  Upon  the  subject  of  the  "paddy  spirit"  Leslie  Milne 
says:  "His  home  is  wherever  the  paddy  is  growing.  He 
travels  with  the  paddy  as  its  bodyguard,  and  he  is  able  to 
be  in  more  than  one  place  at  the  same  time/* 4  Kruijt  relates 
that  he  was  shown  a  "king  of  trees."  On  the  east  coast  of 
Sumatra,  the  Bataks  have  planted  large  india-rubber  trees. 
"At  a  place  called  Pematang  Bandur,  I  found  an  enormous 
specimen  of  this  kind  of  tree.  They  told  me  that  this  was 
the  king  of  the  heveas,  and  that  it  was  forbidden  to  tap 
it  except  in  times  of  the  greatest  need,  for  if  this  giant  were 
ill-treated,  the  other  trees  would  yield  less  latex."  5  This 
tree  is  to  its  congeners  what  the  "mother  of  rice"  is  to  the 
paddy. 

Representations  of  the  same  kind  are  frequently  en- 
countered in  the  case  of  animal  species.  "Among  the  Atjeh 
natives,  and  in  Macassar,  Boegin,  and  with  the  Dayaks," 
says  Kruijt  too,  "there  is  in  each  herd  of  buffaloes  or  cows 
one  called  'the  captain.'  Most  frequently  it  is  an  animal  of 
a  special  form  or  color.  It  keeps  the  troop  together,  that  is, 
it  holds  fast  the  principle  (zielstof)  of  the  others,  so  thai 
they  remain  with  one  another  and  keep  healthy.  If  this 
captain  buffalo  were  to  be  slain,  the  others  would  certainly 
die  or  run  away,  and  in  any  case  the  herd  would  be  broken 
up." 

It  is  the  same  with  wild  animals.  In  Southern  Nigeria, 
for  instance,  "among  every  thousand  or  so  of  bush-pig,  one 
is  to  be  found,  of  great  size  and  very  splendid,  with  a  skin 
marked  like  that  of  a  leopard. ...  Such  animals  are  the 
kings  of  the  bush-pig.  They  are  never  allowed  to  walk 
at  all,  but  are  carried  everywhere  by  those  of  the  common 
sort. ...  Never  do  they  seek  for  their  own  chop.  This  is 
brought  by  the  lesser  pigs,  at  dawn  and  evening  time...". 
Each  year  the  King  Boar  is  carried  away  to  a  new  place 


258  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

amid  very  thick  bush,  so  that  the  hunters  should  never  find 
him."  7  This  king-boar,  like  the  buffalo-captain,  the  giant 
hevea-tree,  the  "mother  of  the  rice,"  the  elder  brother  of 
the  beavers,  like  all  the  "genii"  of  this  kind,  is  a  personifica- 
tion, if  we  may  put  it  thus,  of  the  mystic  essence  of  which 
all  the  individuals  of  the  species  partake.  He  is  the  true 
"unit"  of  them  all. 

With  the  Dschagga  the  word  used  to  designate  the  bees 
of  a  hive  is  the  singular,  and  perhaps  we  have  here  a 
linguistic  trace  of  an  idea  akin  to  the  foregouig.  What  in- 
terests the  Dschagga  especially  is  not  any  particular  speci- 
men of  these  insects,  or  their  number:  it  is  the  Bee,  the 
wonderful  race  that  can  produce  wax  and  honey.  It  is 
certainly  seen  in  a  mass,  but  it  is  essentially  a  principle,  genius 
mystic  power  of  which  it  is  natural  to  speak  in  the  singular. 

II 

Does  a  man's  representation  of  himself  in  his  relations 
with  his  group  differ  considerably  from  that  he  pictures  of 
the  plant  or  animal  with  respect  to  its  species?  It  is  hardly 
possible  that  such  should  be  the  case  if  it  be  true  that  the 
difference  between  men,  animals,  plants,  and  even  inani- 
mate objects,  is  not  one  of  nature  but  merely  of  degree,  and 
that  the  faculties  possessed  by  animals  are  in  no  whit  in' 
ferior  to  those  of  men.  Moreover,  as  we  have  already  seen,* 
the  idea  that  an  individual  has  of  himself,  in  primitive 
communities  as  in  our  own,  must  be  differentiated  from 
the  subjective  feeling  he  possesses  of  his  states  of  conscious- 
ness, emotions,  thoughts,  actions  and  reactions,  etc.,  in  so 
far  as  he  refers  them  to  himself.  From  this  latter  point  of 
view  his  personality  is  for  him  an  individual  clearly  distinct 
from  all  the  rest,  opposed  to  them,  and  apprehended  by 
him  in  a  way  that  is  unique  and  very  different  from  that  in 
which  he  perceives  individuals  and  objects  around  him. 
But  this  direct  apprehension,  vivid  and  constant  as  it  may 
be,  forms  only  a  small  part  of  the  idea  he  has  of  his  own 
personality.  The  predominating  elements  of  it  are  collective 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  259 

in  origin,  and  the  individual  hardly  grasps  himself  save  as 
a  member  of  his  social  group.  There  are  very  many  facts 
which  prove  this,  and  I  shall  cite  but  a  small  number  only, 
choosing  those  which  most  clearly  demonstrate  it. 

"A  man,"  says  Elsdon  Best,  "thought  and  acted  in  terms 
of  family  group,  clan  or  tribe,  according  to  the  nature  or 
gravity  of  the  subject,  and  not  of  the  individual  himself. 
The  welfare  of  the  tribe  was  ever  uppermost  in  his  mind; 
he  might  quarrel  with  a  clansman,  but  let  that  clansman 
be  assailed  in  any  way  by  an  extra-tribal  individual,  or 
combination  of  such,  and  he  at  once  put  aside  animosity 
and  took  his  stand  by  his  side." 9  Again:  "A  native  so  thor- 
oughly identifies  himself  with  his  tribe  that  he  is  ever  em- 
ploying the  first  personal  pronoun.  In  mentioning  a  fight 
that  occurred  possibly  ten  generations  ago  he  will  say:  *I 
defeated  the  enemy  there/  mentioning  the  name  of  the 
tribe.  In  like  manner  he  will  carelessly  indicate  10,000  acres 
of  land  with  a  wave  of  his  hand,  and  remark:  'This  is  my 
land.'  He  would  never  suspect  that  any  person  would  take 
it  that  he  was  the  sole  owner  of  such  land,  nor  would  any 
one  but  a  European  make  such  an  error.  When  Europeans 
arrived  on  these  shores  many  troubles  arose  owing  to  the 
inability  of  the  Maori  to  understand  individual  possession 
of  land,  and  land  selling." 10 

It  is  the  same  in  French  West  Africa.  "The  individual," 
says  Monteil,  "whatever  he  or  his  position  may  be,  is  of  no 
importance  save  as  a  member  of  the  community;  the  com 
munity  exists  and  progresses,  he  only  exists  and  progresses 
by  it  and,  to  a  great  extent,  for  it."  ll  In  the  Belgian  Congo, 
"at  the  same  age,  every  free  Azanda  seems  to  know  just  as 
much  as  his  fellows;  they  give  the  same  replies  and  manifest 
the  same  psychology.  Thus  it  is  an  excessively  stable  and 
conservative  psychology.  The  value  of  the  social  group  seems 
to  them  to  be  inviolably  fixed Therefore  any  revolution- 
ary, any  man  who  on  account  of  personal  experiences,  wa? 
differentiated  from  the  collective  thought,  was  at  once  piti- 
lessly destroyed.  Sasa  had  one  of  his  own  sons  execute*! 


260  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

for  having  changed  a  legal  decision  which  was  the  cus- 
tomary one.  The  Azanda  who  has  been  in  contact  with 
us,  or  who  has  acquired  a  different  mental  outlook,  no 
longer  has  a  place  in  the  social  group. ...  As  a  rule,  what 
strikes  one  most  in  the  answers  given  by  the  semicivilized 
with  regard  to  their  customs  is  the  very  slight  importance 
attaching  to  individual  opinion  compared  with  the  col- 
lective thought  of  the  group.  They  do  this  or  that,  not  be- 
cause T  want  it,  but  because  'we'  desire  it.  Here,  more 
than  among  Western  peoples,  whose  individualization  often 
masks  a  profound  participation  in  the  life  of  the  community, 
we  realize  how  intensely  social  the  life  of  the  Azanda  is. 
All  its  rites,  all  its  education  tends  to  make  the  individual 
one  with  the  community,  to  develop  in  him  qualities  ex- 
actly like  those  of  the  other  individuals  of  his  group." 12 

De  Calonne-Beaufaict  lays  special  stress  upon  the  obliga- 
tory conformity  which  tends  to  make  all  the  individuals 
of  the  same  group  alike.  His  testimony  is  supported  by 
other  witnesses,  who  show  the  subordination  of  the  in- 
dividual to  his  group,  among  the  Bantus.  For  instance,  a 
missionary  tells  us:  "In  studying  Bantu  institutions,  it  is 
necessary  at  the  outset  to  eliminate  our  idea  of  the  individ- 
ual. ...  A  man's  rights  and  duties  are  born  with  him,  being 
conditioned  by  his  precedence  in  the  family  and  the  pre- 
cedence of  the  family  in  the  tribe.  Nothing  is  further  from 
Bantu  thought  than  the  doctrine  that  all  men  are  endowed 
by  nature  with  fundamental  equality  and  an  inalienable 

right  to  liberty  (whatever  the  definition  of  the  term) 

They  cannot  admit  for  a  moment  that  any  man  but  a  chief 
is  born  free,  and  they  cannot  conceive  how  any  two  men 
can  be  born  equal.  Everything  in  their  political  system  is 
built  on  status,  and  status  is  a  matter  of  birth.  Well,  all  this 
means  that  the  individual  does  not  exist  in  Bantu  society. 
The  unit  is  the  family." 13 

Smith  and  Dale  say  the  same  thing:  "The  clan  is  a  natural 
mutual  aid  society,  the  members  being  bound  to  render  their 
fellows  all  the  help  they  can  in  life.  Members  of  one  clan 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  26l 

are,  if  we  may  use  the  Biblical  language,  members  also  one 
of  another.  A  member  belongs  to  the  clan;  he  is  not  his 
own;  if  he  is  wronged  they  will  right  him;  if  he  does  wrong 
the  responsibility  is  shared  by  them.  If  he  is  killed  the  clan 
takes  up  the  feud,  for  he  belongs  to  them.  If  a  daughter 
of  the  clan  is  to  be  married  they  have  to  give  their  consent 
first,  Ba-ila  who  have  ever  met  before  will  at  once  be  friends 
if  it  turns  out  that  they  are  of  the  same  mii\oa.  If  one  has 
the  misfortune  to  become  a  slave,  his  clansmen  will  con- 
tribute his  redemption  price,"  etc,14 

Such  a  social  organization  at  once  involves  a  great  dif- 
ference between  the  idea  of  the  individual  animal  and  the 
human  individual.  Each  animal  is  directly  and  immediately 
a  participant  in  the  mystic  principle  which  is  the  essence  of 
its  species,  and  all  have  the  same  claim  to  it.  Save  for  those 
which  have  something  unusual  about  them,  in  which  the 
primitive's  mind  suspects  witchcraft,  they  all  are,  so  to  speak, 
similar  and  equivalent  expressions  of  this  "principle"  01 
"genius."  The  human  individual  himself  also  exists  by  virtue 
of  his  participation  in  the  essential  principle  of  his  group, 
but  a  community  of  human  beings  does  not  correspond  at 
all  points  with  an  animal  or  vegetable  species.  First  of  all, 
it  is  not  of  an  indefinite  number  in  the  same  way  as  they 
are.  Above  all,  it  is  articulated  into  sections  and  subsections. 
The  individual  occupies  in  turn  several  positions  in  his 
group.  He  attains  them  more  or  less  quickly  according  to 
his  birth  and  to  his  social  importance  during  the  course  of 
his  life.  In  short,  in  every  human  society  there  are  ranks 
and  a  hierarchy,  even  if  one  of  seniority  only.  The  individ- 
ual, whoever  he  may  be,  is  dependent  upon  the  group  (ex- 
cept in  the  case  of  a  chief  where  his  absolute  power  has  been 
accepted),  but  not  in  a  way  that  is  uniform. 

The  more  deeply  observers  penetrate  the  minds  of  "primi- 
tive" or  semicivilized  peoples,  the  more  important  does  the 
role  of  this  hierarchy  appear  to  be.  Spencer  and  Gilleo  have 
demonstrated  it  in  the  Central  Australian  tribes,  Dr.  Thurn- 
wald  in  the  Banaro  of  New  Guinea,  and  Holmes  in  other 


262  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

Papuans  of  British  New  Guinea.  The  last-named  relates  the 
story  of  a  man  who  kills  his  younger  brother  for  having 
taken  a  place  which  belonged  to  the  elder  without  asking 
permission. — Among  the  Bantus,  the  individual  is  both 
strictly  subordinated  to  the  social  group  and  rigidly  estab- 
lished in  his  own  rank.  The  group,  as  we  know,  is  com- 
posed of  the  living  and  of  their  dead,  and  the  first  place 
belongs  to  the  latter.  These  must  therefore  be  served  first. 
It  is  to  them  that  the  first-fruits  are  offered,  and  none  would 
fail  in  this  obligation.  "Bantus,"  as  Junod  observes,  "do 
not  think  they  dare  enjoy  the  products  of  the  soil  if  they 
have  not  first  given  a  portion  of  them  to  their  gods.  Are 
these  gods  not  those  who  make  cereals  grow?  Have  they 
not  the  power  even  of  controlling  the  wizards  who  bewitch 
the  fields?  These  rites  arc  also  evidently  dictated  by  the 
sense  of  hierarchy." 1C —  Among  the  Hereros,  no  one  dare 
drink  of  the  morning's  milk  just  drawn  from  the  cows 
until  the  ritual  libations  have  been  performed.  The  an- 
cestors must  drink  first. 

The  "village,"  that  is,  the  familial  group,  among  the 
Thonga  people  studied  by  Junod,  "is  a  little  organized  com- 
munity having  its  own  laws,  amongst  which  the  most  im- 
portant seems  the  law  of  hierarchy.  The  elder  brother  is 
the  uncontested  master,  and  no  one  can  supersede  him.  He 
is  the  owner  of  the  village. . . .  No  one  must  'steal  it'  from 
him.  Should  any  one  do  so,  the  whole  community  would 
suffer  and  no  children  would  be  born;  the  life  of  the  organ- 
ism would  be  deeply  affected;  this  is  the  reason  why  the 
headman  must  go  first  with  his  principal  wife  to  have  re- 
lations with  her  in  the  new  village,  and  thus  to  ta\e  pos- 
session of  it  or  tie  it.  For  this  same  reason,  when  the  head- 
man dies,  the  village  must  move.  As  long  as  the  inheritance 
has  not  yet  been  distributed,  it  is  still  his  home;  but  as  soon 
as  the  ceremony  has  taken  place,  the  villagers  must  go  away, 
and  close  the  door  with  a  thorny  branch." 1G  As  Junod  says 
elsewhere:  "There  is  a  mystic  tie  between  this  man  and  the 
social  organism  which  is  under  him."17  Should  he  die, 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  263 

the  village  dies  also.  This  intimate  dependence  on  him  is 
expressed  by  the  Thonga,  not  in  abstract  terms,  but  in  strik- 
ing images.  "The  chief  is  the  Earth.  He  is  the  cock  ...  he  is 
the  bull;  without  him  the  cows  cannot  bring  forth.  He  is 
the  husband;  the  country  without  him  is  like  a  woman 
without  husband.  He  is  the  man  of  the  village. ...  A  clan 
without  chief  has  lost  its  reason.  It  is  dead...  The  chief 
is  our  great  warrior;  he  is  our  forest  where  we  hide  our- 
selves, and  from  whom  we  ask  for  laws. . . .  The  chief  is  a 
magical  being.  He  possesses  special  medicines  with  which 
he  rubs  himself  or  which  he  swallows,  so  that  his  body 
is  taboo,"  etc.18  Does  not  such  a  social  organism  recall— 
mutatis  mutandis — a  hive  of  bees?  Is  not  the  chief  in  certain 
respects  to  be  compared  with  the  captain  buffalo  that  "keeps 
the  herd  together,"  and  by  its  own  power  so  assures  its 
well-being  and  cohesion,  that  when  it  is  slain  the  herd 
perishes  or  is  broken  up? 

Moreover,  and  here  again  is  another  aspect  of  the  inti- 
mate and  almost  organic  solidarity  uniting  members  of  the 
same  social  group,  the  individual  which  does  not  belong 
to  it  counts  for  nothing.  We  know  how  much  attention  the 
group  shows  to  its  dead,  and  how  it  hastens  to  render  them 
all  the  honors  that  arc  their  due.  But  "when  a  stranger  dies 
in  a  Thonga  village,  when  no  one  knows  him,  'he  does  not 
matter' "  (says  Junod's  informant).  "The  grown-up  men  will 
bury  him.  They  dig  a  hole  and  drag  the  corpse  into  it  with 
a  rope.  They  do  not  touch  it.  There  is  no  contagion,  there- 
fore no  ceremony  of  purification.  Among  the  Malukele  and 
the  Hlengwe  such  a  corpse  is  burnt."  19 

III 

Melanesian  and  Micronesian  languages  nearly  all  present 
a  icmarkable  peculiarity,  which  Codrington  sums  up  as 
follows:  "It 4s  most  important  to  understand  that  all  nouns 
in  Melanesian  languages  are  divided  in  native  use-  into 
two  classes;  those  that  take  the  personal  pronoun  suffixed, 
and  those  that  do  not. ...  In  Melanesian  languages,  except- 


£64  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

ing  Savo,  the  distinction  is  based  upon  the  notion  of 
closeness  or  remoteness  of  connection  between  the  object  pos- 
sessed and  the  possessor,  but  the  carrying  out  of  this  prin- 
ciple in  detail  is  by  no  means  easy  to  follow. ...  In  some 
cases  no  doubt  the  same  word  may  be  used  with  or  without 
the  suffix;  but  never  when  the  word  is  used  in  precisely  the 
same  meaning."  20 

The  nouns  which  take  this  suffix,  "according  to  a  strict 
native  use,"  are  "nouns  which  generally  signify  members 
of  the  body,  parts  of  a  thing,  equipments  of  a  man,  or  family 
relationship." 21  In  the  Tami  language  of  German  New 
Guinea,  for  instance,  "an  important  class  of  nouns  is  com- 
posed of  those  which  take  a  possessive  suffix;  they  are  nouns 
denoting  degrees  of  relationship  and  parts  of  the  body."  22 
In  Neu  Pommern,  on  the  north  coast  of  the  Gazelle  Penin- 
sula, Father  Bley  remarks:  "The  possessive  pronouns  are  also 
used  to  denote  relationship,  the  connection  (Zugehdrigbeit) 
of  the  parts  of  the  body  itself,  and  they  are  placed  after 
the  noun,  partly  as  suffixes."  23  At  the  same  time,  Father 
Bley  points  out  some  exceptions  to  this  rule. —  In  the  Roro, 
a  Melanesian  language  or  British  New  Guinea,  "the  pos- 
sessive suffixes  may  be  used  with  or  without  the  personal 
pronoun  preceding  the  thing  possessed.  The  suffixes  are 
used  only  with  special  nouns  such  as  parts  of  the  body  and 
relations." —  In  the  Mekeo  language  of  a  neighboring  tribe 
"the  possessive  suffix  is  used  in  the  case  of  parts  of  the  body, 
relations,  and  a  few  other  words."  24  We  might  cite  other 
examples,  but  these  will  doubtless  suffice  to  decide,  as  Cod- 
rington  does,  that  this  is  an  invariable  rule  in  Melanesian 
languages. 

Very  often  what  seems  to  be  an  irregularity  or  an  excep- 
tion proceeds  on  the  contrary  from  a  very  strict  and  precise 
application  of  the  rule.  This  is  so  with  the  following  irregu- 
larities, noted  by  Peekel:25 

anugu  tunan,  my  man  (husband),  instead  of  tananagu; 
anugu  hahin,  my  wife,  instead  of  hahinagu; 
a  manuagu,  my  wouncj,  instead  of  anagu  manua; 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  265 

a  subanagu,  the  remains  of  my  meal,  instead  ot  anagu 
subana  (gu  being  the  personal  pronoun  suffix  of  the  first 
person). 

From  the  natives'  point  of  view,  these  are  perfectly  regular 
forms,  and  indeed  the  only  correct  ones.  In  fact,  since 
exogamy  is  strictly  observed  in  these  tribes,  husband  and 
wife  belong  to  different  clans.  Accordingly  the  husband  is 
not  and  cannot  be  related  to  his  wife,  nor  she  to  him,  and 
it  is  quite  natural  that  the  possessive  pronoun  should  not 
be  suffixed  after  the  nouns  "husband"  and  "wife."  These 
nouns  are  not  among  the  class  of  substantives  taking  the 
pronominal  suffix.  Conversely  the  wound  which  involve! 
a  part  of  my  body,  and  the  skin  of  the  banana  that  I  have 
eaten  are,  to  the  primitive's  way  of  thinking,  things  which 
"belong"  to  me  in  the  strictest  sense  of  the  word.  They  are 
literally  parts  of  myself;  therefore  the  nouns  "wound"  arid 
"remains  of  the  meal"  must  be  followed  by  the  suffix.-— 
By  virtue  of  the  same  principle  we  can  understand  why  the 
native  says  anugu  hahin  (my  wife)  without  the  suffix,  when 
speaking  of  the  woman  he  has  married,  for  she  is  not  of  his 
family.  But  he  will  say:  hahin  i  gu  (my  sister)  with  the 
suffix,  for  his  sister  is  of  the  same  clan  as  himself;  she 
"belongs"  to  him,  in  the  sense  that  she  makes,  with  him, 
part  of  the  same  whole,  like  two  limbs  belonging  to  the  same 
body. 

In  Micronesian  languages  we  find,  too,  a  class  of  nouns 
taking  the  personal  pronoun  as  a  suffix.  According  to  Thal- 
heimer,  who  has  made  a  special  study  of  the  subject,  these 
are  nouns  denoting:  (i)  the  parts  of  the  body  and  the 
divers  functions  of  man's  mental  activity;  (2)  relationship; 
(3)  relation  of  a  position  in  space  and  time;  (4)  the  de- 
pendent parts  of  an  independent  whole;  (5)  personal  adorn- 
ments, weapons  and  instruments,  the  house,  the  garden; 
(6)  possessive  nouns,  i.e.,  nouns  provided  with  possessive 
suffixes,  which  serve  in  certain  cases  as  possessive  pronoun* 
in  a  special  sense  (Pronomina  ediva  et  potativd).™ 


?66  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

This  instructive  list  helps  us  to  comprehend  how  the 
Melanesians  picture  the  relations  of  kinship  to  themselves. 
Thalheimer  himself  remarks  on  this:  "The  solidarity  of 
relatives  among  themselves  is  denoted  in  the  same  way  as 
that  of  the  various  parts  of  an  individual,"  and  he  accounts 
for  this  fact  by  the  construction  of  the  Melanesian  gens, 
saying:  "The  individual  is  to  the  family  what  the  limb — 
head,  arm,  leg — is  to  the  living  body." 

Thus  the  fact  to  be  found  in  their  languages  throws  light 
upon  ideas  of  which  we  can  hardly  suppose  that  Melanesians 
have  a  clear  consciousness.  They  do  not  think  in  abstract 
terms,  nor  reflect  upon  concepts.  They  have  never  fiad  any 
notion  of  the  organic  finality  manifested  by  the  structure 
and  functions  of  a  living  body,  nor  of  the  special  way  in 
which  the  parts  are  subordinated  to  the  whole,  and  the 
whole  in  its  turp  depends  upon  its  parts.  Neither  have  thev 
e^er  analyzed  the  solidarity  uniting  the  individuals  of  the 
same  family  with  one  another.  Nevertheless  their  languages 
testify  that  they  do  compare  these.  To  them  the  familial 
group  is  a  being  which,  by  its  unity,  is  like  a  living  body. 
We  too  say:  the  "members"  of  a  family,  but  to  us  it  is  a 
mere  metaphor,  though  not  an  inapt  one.  To  them,  al- 
though they  do  not  think  about  it,  it  is  the  literal  expression 
of  a  fact.  In  their  imaginings  the  individual  does  not  depend 
less  closely  upon  his  familial  group  than  the  hand  or  foot 
depends  upon  the  body  of  which  it  is  part. 

As  Codrington  has  noted,  the  division  of  substantives  into 
two  classes  one  of  which  takes  the  possessive  pronominal 
suffix,  and  the  other  not,  is  a  feature  peculiar  to  the  languages 
of  Melanesia  and  Micronesia.  But  in  this  very  district,  by 
way  of  exception,  and  in  a  good  many  others  all  over  the 
world,  one  unvarying  fact  has  been  remarked.  Certain  sub- 
stantives— usually  the  names  of  the  parts  of  the  body  and 
the  different  relationships — are  never  used  without  a  per- 
sonal pronoun,  whether  it  be  prefixed  or  affixed  or  sepa- 
rated from  the  noun.  Thus,  in  the  Baining  language,  "there 
are  words  which  are  never  used  except  conjoined  with  a 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  267 

personal  pronoun.  They  are  those  which  denote  the  parts 
of  the  body  or  the  degrees  of  relationship.  They  are  never 
10  be  met  with  standing  alone . . .  the  possessive  pronoun 
is  placed  before  the  noun. . . ." 27  In  the  other  Melanesian 
and  Polynesian  languages  known  up  to  the  present,  he  says, 
one  is  struck  by  finding  a  special  possessive  pronoun  for  a 
certain  group  of  words  denoting  parts  of  the  body  and 
relationships.  This  kind  of  pronoun  is  used  as  a  suffix  for 
the  nouns  to  which  it  refers.  There  is  nothing  like  this  in 
the  Baining  tongue.  It  knows  no  distinction  between  the 
possessive  pronouns.  It  does  not  append  a  personal  pronoun 
to  any  kind  of  substantive;  the  possessive  pronoun  is  al- 
ways placed  before  the  substantive.  Moreover,  the  Baining 
recognizes  also  certain  substantives  (precisely  those  denot- 
ing parts  of  the  body  and  relationships),  which  he  never 
uses  without  a  possessive  pronoun.  Thus  we  see  that  Bai- 
ning thought  coincides  on  this  point  with  that  of  the  sur 
rounding  peoples,  but  the  way  in  which  it  is  expressed  is 
different.28 

This  remark  holds  good  for  hundreds,  perhaps  thousands, 
of  languages:  Oceanic,  American,  African,  Asiatic,  Euro- 
pean, in  which  one  cannot,  according  to  Powell's  way  of 
putting  it,  say  simply  "hand"  or  "head,"  but  must  always 
indicate  at  the  same  time  whose  hand  or  head  it  is;  lan- 
guages in  which  one  cannot  say  "father,"  "mother,"  "son," 
"brother,"  etc.  without  mentioning  whose  father,  mother, 
son,  or  brother  is  in  question.  The  fact  is  universal,  as  it 
were,  and  it  has  been  noted  scores  of  times.  Everywhere 
the  rule  applies  equally  to  the  nouns  denoting  degrees  of 
relationship  and  parts  of  the  body,  and  usually  to  these  two 
categories  only.  This,  it  appears,  allows  us  to  conclude, 
especially  after  analyzing  the  more  peculiar  facts  ascertained 
in  Melanesian  and  Micronesian  languages,  and  without 
being  too  bold  in  concluding,  that  in  all  parts  of  the  world 
these  two  categories  of  nouns — names  of  relationships  and 
names  of  parts  of  the  body — make  but  one  in  reality.  All 
proceeds  as  if,  to  those  who  speak  these  languages,  the  two 


268  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

relations  are  exactly  alike.  Not  that  they  have  ever  taken  this 
into  account  themselves.  They  apply  this  grammatical  rule 
of  theirs,  of  a  grammar  which  is  frequently  so  complex  and 
so  meticulous,  with  the  same  unreflecting  rigidity  and  the 
same  spontaneity  as  others.  Yet  the  fact  that  the  rule  exists 
is  only  the  more  significant. 

IV 

How  are  we  to  understand  the  term  "family  relationship" 
in  societies  either  "primitive"  or  "semicivilized"  ?  It  is  not 
very  long  since  ethnologists  first  thought  of  putting  this 
question  to  themselves,  yet  as  long  as  it  had  not  been  con- 
sidered, dire  confusion  was  inevitable  in  the  matter.  Up  to 
a  fairly  recent  period  it  has  been  accepted,  as  if  it  were 
a  self-evident  fact,  that  all  existing  human  families  were 
of  essentially  the  same  type  as  our  own.  Both  history  and 
observation  seemed  to  agree  with  this  instinctive  conviction. 
What  we  knew  of  the  Roman,  Greek,  Slav,  Semitic,  Chinese 
and  other  families  seemed  to  confirm  the  idea  that  the 
fundamental  structure  of  the  family  is  everywhere  the  same. 

Now  to-day  we  know  that  in  a  great  many  of  the  social 
communities  which  are  more  or  less  "primitive,"  what  we 
call  the  family,  in  the  traditional  and  current  sense  of  the 
word,  does  not  exist.  In  its  place  ethnologists  have  found 
an  institution  that  we  can  designate  by  the  same  name,  but 
only  on  condition  that  we  remember  that  it  is  radically  dif- 
ferent. A  careful  study  of  the  vocabularies  of  these  societies 
will  suffice  to  establish  this  fact.  Among  the  Banaro,  as  Dr. 
Thurnwald  rightly  remarks,  "the  absence  of  the  family 
(in  our  sense  of  the  word)  is  accompanied  by  the  absence 
of  the  expressions  which  correspond  with  this  idea." 29 

The  family  which  is  noted  in  these  societies  is  of  the 
type  called  "classificatory."  We  fincj  it  of  the  same  kind  in 
all  its  essential  features  in  all  latitudes,  and  in  districts  most 
remote  from  each  other.  It  has  been  described  in  North 
America,  where  Morgan  discovered  it;  in  South  America 
(among  the  Araucans,  for  instance) ;  in  Australia,  Melanesia, 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  271 

affection  that  children  nearly  always  feel  permanently  for 
their  real  mother,  and  frequently,  too,  for  their  father,  it 
remains  a  fact  that  it  is  by  no  means  from  mere  politeness, 
or  in  a  purely  conventional  manner,  that  the  primitive  calls 
the  brothers  of  his  father  "fathers,"  the  sisters  of  his  mother 
"mothers,"  and  the  children  of  his  father's  brothers  and 
of  his  mother's  sisters  "brothers  and  sisters,"  and  "wives" 
(at  any  rate  potential  ones),  the  women  that  he  can  lawfully 
marry,  and  so  on.  It  is  in  this  manner  that  family  relations 
impose  themselves  on  him,  and  his  language  testifies  to  the 
fact.  In  all  the  tribes  of  Queensland  studied  by  Dr.  Roth, 
for  instance,  "son,  daughter,  brother's  son,  brother's  daugh- 
ter, have  no  distinctive  terms:  every  language  has  but  one 
word  to  denote  them  all.  Similarly,  the  sister's  son  and  the 
sister's  daughter  are  described  by  the  same  word."  In  these 
tribes,  too,  Roth  shows  that  the  father's  father  is  denoted 
by  the  same  word  as  the  son's  son,  the  mother's  mother  by 
the  same  word  as  the  son's  daughter.  These  extraordinary 
circumstances  are  explained  when  we  study  the  classes  and 
subclasses  between  which  alone  marriage  is  permitted.  We 
cannot  enter  into  details  about  these  classes,  but  the  nomen- 
clature set  forth  by  Roth  suffices  to  show  how  greatly  the 
group-relationship  of  the  Australian  aborigines  differs  from 
our  own  ideas  of  kindred. 

Codrington  lays  considerable  stress  upon  this  difference. 
In  a  passage  where  it  is  so  marked  as  to  be  difficult  to  fol- 
low, he  notes  that  in  certain  Melanesian  languages  the 
words  "mother,"  "husband,"  "wife"  are  plural  in  form.  "In 
the  Mota  language  the  form  is  very  clear;  ra  is  the  plural 
prefix;  the  division,  side,  or  kin,  is  the  vcve;  and  mother 
is  ra  veve  i  soai  is  a  member,  as  of  a  body,  or  a  component 
part  of  a  house  or  of  a  tree,  and  ra  soai  is  either  husband  or 
wife.  To  interpret  ra  as  a  prefix  of  dignity  is  forbidden  bv 
the  full  consciousness  of  the  natives  themselves  that  it 
expresses  plurality.-  The  kin  is  the  veve,  a  child's  mother 
is  'they  of  the  kin/  his  kindred.  A  man's  kindred  are  not 
called  his  veve  because  they  are  his  mother's  people;  she 


270  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

at  least,  are  either  sisters  or  wives — to  the  Melanesian 
women,  that  all  men  are  brothers  or  husbands."  32  In  other 
words,  all  with  whom  marriage  is  forbidden  her  are 
her  brothers;  all  the  rest  are  her  potential  husbands. 

Elsewhere  Codrington  has  given  a  detailed  description 
of  this  family  constitution.  Its  fundamental  feature  is  the 
following:  "All  of  one  generation,  within  the  family  con- 
nection, are  called  fathers  and  mothers  of  all  who  form 
the  generation  below  them;  a  man's  brothers  are  called 
fathers  of  his  children,  a  woman's  sisters  are  called  mothers 
of  her  children. . . .  This  wide  use  of  the  terms  father  and 
mother  does  not  at  all  signify  any  looseness  in  the  actual 
view  of  proper  paternity  and  maternity ...  the  one  who 
speaks  has  no  confusion  in  his  mind,  and  will  correct  a 
misconception  with  the  explanation:  'my  own  child*  tnr 
natul{;  tur  iasina,  his  brother,  not  his  cousin." 33 — A.  R. 
Brown  notes  the  same  thing.  "Although  a  given  person 
applies  the  name  mama  (father)  to  a  large  number  of  in- 
dividuals, if  he  is  asked  'Who  is  your  mama?'  he  imme- 
diately replies  by  giving  the  name  of  his  actual  father, 
unless  his  father  died  during  his  infancy,  in  which  case  he 
gives  the  name  of  his  foster-father. . . .  Each  term,  therefore, 
has  what  we  may  call  a  primary  or  specific  meaning.  The 
primary  meaning  of  mama  is  father  and  that  of  maeli  is 

father's  father Just  as  we  use  the  word  'cousin,'  so  the 

Kariera  native  uses  his  word  mama,  speaking  of  a  large 
number  of  different  related  persons  by  the  one  name,  but 
distinguishing  in  thought,  though  not  in  words,  those  of 
his  'fathers,'  who  are  more  nearly  related  to  him  from 
those  who  are  more  distantly  related. ...  This  distinction 
between  nearer  and  more  distant  relatives  of  the  same  kind 
(that  is,  denoted  by  the  same  term)  is  of  the  greatest  im- 
portance in  the  social  life  of  the  Kariera  tribe.  It  seems 
probable  that  it  is  equally  important  in  other  tribes  of  Aus- 
tralia, though  I  do  not  know  that  it  has  been  specifically 
pointed  out  by  previous  writers." 84 

With  this  reservation,  and  taking  into  account  the  special 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  271 

affection  that  children  nearly  always  feel  permanently  for 
their  real  mother,  and  frequently,  too,  for  their  father,  it 
remains  a  fact  that  it  is  by  no  means  from  mere  politeness, 
or  in  a  purely  conventional  manner,  that  the  primitive  calls 
the  brothers  of  his  father  "fathers,"  the  sisters  of  his  mother 
"mothers,"  and  the  children  of  his  father's  brothers  and 
of  his  mother's  sisters  "brothers  and  sisters,"  and  "wives" 
(at  any  rate  potential  ones),  the  women  that  he  can  lawfully 
marry,  and  so  on.  It  is  in  this  manner  that  family  relations 
impose  themselves  on  him,  and  his  language  testifies  to  the 
fact.  In  all  the  tribes  of  Queensland  studied  by  Dr.  Roth, 
for  instance,  "son,  daughter,  brother's  son,  brother's  daugh- 
ter, have  no  distinctive  terms:  every  language  has  but  one 
word  to  denote  them  all.  Similarly,  the  sister's  son  and  the 
sister's  daughter  are  described  by  the  same  word."  In  these 
tribes,  too,  Roth  shows  that  the  father's  father  is  denoted 
by  the  same  word  as  the  son's  son,  the  mother's  mother  by 
the  same  word  as  the  son's  daughter.  These  extraordinary 
circumstances  are  explained  when  we  study  the  classes  and 
subclasses  between  which  alone  marriage  is  permitted.  We 
cannot  enter  into  details  about  these  classes,  but  the  nomen- 
clature set  forth  by  Roth  suffices  to  show  how  greatly  the 
group-relationship  of  the  Australian  aborigines  differs  from 
our  own  ideas  of  kindred. 

Codrington  lays  considerable  stress  upon  this  difference. 
In  a  passage  where  it  is  so  marked  as  to  be  difficult  to  fol- 
low, he  notes  that  in  certain  Melanesian  languages  the 
words  "mother,"  "husband,"  "wife"  are  plural  in  form.  "In 
the  Mota  language  the  form  is  very  clear;  ra  is  the  plural 
prefix;  the  division,  side,  or  kin,  is  the  vcve;  and  mother 
is  ra  veve  i  soai  is  a  member,  as  of  a  body,  or  a  component 
part  of  a  house  or  of  a  tree,  and  ra  soai  is  either  husband  or 
wife.  To  interpret  ra  as  a  prefix  of  dignity  is  forbidden  bv 
the  full  consciousness  of  the  natives  themselves  that  it 
expresses  plurality.-  The  kin  is  the  veve,  a  child's  mother 
is  'they  of  the  kin/  his  kindred.  A  man's  kindred  are  not 
called  his  veve  because  they  are  his  mother's  people;  she 


272  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

is  called  his  vcvc,  in  the  plural,  his  kindred,  as  if  she  were 
the  representative  of  the  kin;  as  if  he  were  not  the  child 
of  the  particular  woman  who  bore  him,  but  of  the  whole 
kindred  for  whom  she  brought  him  into  the  world.  By  a 
parallel  use  to  this  a  plural  form  is  given  to  the  Mota  word 
for  child,  reremera,  with  a  doubled  plural  sign;  a.single  boy 
is  called  not  child,  but  children,  as  if  his  individuality  were 
not  distinguished  from  the  common  offspring  of  his  veve. 
The  same  plural  prefix  is  found  in  other  Banks'  Island  words 
meaning  mother :  rave  in  Santa  Maria,  retve  in  Vanua  Lava, 
reme  in  Torres  Islands.  The  mother  is  called  ratahi  in 
Whitsuntide,  and  ratahigi  in  Lepers'  Island,  i.e.,  the  sisters, 
the  sisterhood,  because  she  represents  the  sister  members  of 
the  social  group  who  are  the  mothers  generally  of  the  chil- 
dren. Similarly  the  one  word  used  for  husband  or  wife  has 
the  plural  form.  In  Mota  a  man  does  not  call  his  wife  a 
member  of  him,  a  component  part  of  him,  but  his  members, 
his  component  parts;  and  so  a  wife  speaks  of  her  husband. 
It  is  not  that  the  man  and  his  wife  make  up  a  composite 
body  between  them,  but  that  the  men  on  the  one  side  and 
the  women  on  the  other  make  up  a  composite  married 
body.  The  Mota  people  know  that  the  word  they  use  means 
this;  it  was  owned  to  myself  with  a  blush  that  it  was  so, 
with  a  Melanesian  blush!  and  a  protestation  that  the  word 
did  not  represent  a  fact." 85  This  is  quite  true.  But  it  is  not 
less  so  that  it  was  the  missionary  who  had  taught  them  to 
blush  about  it.  The  existence  of  plural  words  to  express 
"husband,"  "wife,"  etc.,  would  not  be  accounted  for  if  they 
had  never  corresponded  with  a  reality  to  which  we  have 
other  testimony  moreover.  That  there  should  be  no  word 
of  singular  form  in  these  languages  to  express  mother,  child, 
husband,  or  wife,  etc.,  is  a  feature  (quite  compatible,  as  we 
have  seen,  with  the  natural  feelings  of  maternal  or  filial 
love)  that  of  itself  throws  strong  light  upon  the  constitution 
of  the  Melanesian  family. 

After  this  the  facts  related  by  Thurnwald  in  his  study  of 
the  Banaro  of  New  Guinea  will  seem  less  singular.  "Chil- 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  273 

dren,"  says  he,  "except  the  one  who  is  called  the  child  o£ 
the  'spirit*  (Geistkind)  give  each  other  names  according  to 
their  respective  ages,  and  their  sex,  and  the  sex  of  the 
speaker  is  also  taken  into  account. ...  As  aia  and  ncin  mean 
merely  'older*  and  'younger,'  special  expressions  to  express 
fraternal  relationship  properly  so  called  are  altogether  lack- 
ing. The  entire  generation  of  children  regards  itself  as  a  unit 
for  the  two  halves  of  the  clan,  and  the  only  distinction  be 
tween  them  is  their  relative  age.  The  feeling  of  belonging 
to  some  kind  of  paternal  or  maternal  family  is  not  contained 
in  it."30  As  a  matter  of  fact,  among  the  Banaro,  lineage 
does  not  call  for  the  conception  of  the  fixed  relation  which 
two  complementary  terms,  like  father  and  son,  would  arouse 
in  us.  The  charge  of  caring  for  the  generation  which  is  grow- 
ing up  is  the  concern  of  the  familial  group  (Sippe)  and  of 
the  clan.  The  absence  of  a  family  in  our  sense  of  the  word 
is  on  all  fours  with  the  absence  of  the  words  corresponding 
with  these  ideas  (of  father  and  son).87 

A  study  of  the  words  denoting  family  relationships  would 
lead  to  similar  results.38  Paternity  is  conceived  in  a  very 
different  fashion  from  ours,  and  one  which,  in  certain  cases, 
has  nothing  to  do  with  the  act  of  procreation.  Just  as  in  the 
Australian  and  Melanesian  tribes  of  which  we  have  already 
spoken,  among  the  Banaro  there  are  no  clearly  definite 
words  to  denote  married  pairs,  that  is,  words  which  do  not 
at  the  same  time  serve  to  denote  other  persons.  The  word 
for  woman  (wife)  properly  signifies  "mother."  The  word 
tnu-mona  (husband)  is  also  used  for  oilier  quasi-marital 
relations.  In  all  that  relates  to  the  etymology  of  this  word, 
we  should  hardly  be  in  error  in  assimilating  it  to  nram  or 
nam:  the  other,  the  stranger,  i.e.,  the  man  who  comes  from 
the  other  clan.  (The  Banaro  practice  exogamy.) 

Among  them,  as  in  all  regions  where  the  classificatory 
system  is  in  existence,  "we  do  not  find  any  sharp  boundary 
between  relatives  in  the  direct  line  and  the  collateral 
branches.  No  doubt  this  confusion  of  the  two  lines  arises 
out  of  the  circumstance  that  all  social  ties  are  conceived, 


274  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

not  according  to  the  relation  of  one  individual  to  another, 
but  according  to  totals,  relations  of  groups  and  subgroups 
of  individuals.  Thus  it  is  not  a  consequence  of  the  principle 
of  exogamy  in  itself,  but  indeed  of  the  idea  they  hold  of 
society.  Yet  this  must  not  be  interpreted  to  mean  that  the 
individual  is  wholly  left  out  of  account.  Closely  connected 
individuals  who  stand  in  a  definite  relation  to  one  another 
are  comprised  in  the  same  term"  39 — "The  principle  accord- 
ing to  which  these  groups  and  subgroups  are  formed  is 
moreover  not  unique.  There  is  no  characteristic  which  of 
itself  determines  it  in  a  definite  way.  The  predominating 
factor  is  the  social  relations  between  one  person  and  an- 
other, for  in  the  construction  of  the  Banaro  system  these 
have  had  preponderating  influence.  Persons  are  afterwards 
grouped  according  to  consanguinity  and  to  age." 40  The 
young  people  who  are  growing  up  are  ranked  primarily 
and  principally  according  to  their  age,  and  only  afterwards 
according  to  their  sex.  "For  adults,  it  is  the  sexual  relations 
which  are  of  the  most  importance.  It  is  their  position  from 
the  sexual  point  of  view  that  determines  the  relation  be- 
tween two  persons;  it  is  decided  according  to  whether 
sexual  relations  are  allowed  or  prohibited  between  them, 
or  with  a  certain  third  person.  It  is  on  these  grounds  that 
each  individual  is  classed  in  a  group  relationship  bearing 
a  certain  name."  41 

Before  we  leave  the  study  of  the  Banaro  I  shall  quote  one 
more  reflection  of  Dr.  Thurnwald's  which  strikingly  bears 
out  what  I  have  been  trying  to  show  here:  "This  method 
of  grouping  is  closely  bound  up  with  the  whole  way  of 
thinking  of  primitive  peoples,  and  the  latter  is  manifested 
in  their  general  method  of  reckoning.  In  forming  their 
groups  the  Banaro  do  not  make  use  of  general  number- 
concepts  as  we  do  when  we  wish  to  distinguish  the  mem- 
bers of  a  family  according  to  the  universally  applicable 
scheme  of  finding  the  distance  between  the  degrees  of  re- 
lationship calculated  from  the  precise  number  of  births  sepa- 
rating one  person  from  another  of  the  same  blood.  The 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  275 

number-concepts  of  the  primitive  are  mere  aids  to  memory^ 
or  else  they  are  the  image  of  a  mass,  as  for  instance  a  basket 
full  of  things,  a  bearer's  load,  a  pack  of  wolves,  a  band  of 
men,  and  these  images  arc  formed  according  to  the  impres- 
sion made  upon  the  imagination  by  external  objects. ...  In 
their  method  of  classing  and  grouping,  the  classificatory 
systems  of  relationship  reflect  the  characteristic  of  primitive 
mentality,  which  at  once  seizes  upon  the  concrete  and  is 
quite  aloof  from  any  theoretical  abstraction."  And  finally, 
this  concise  summing-up:  "Relationship  is  not  a  matter  of 
calculation,  but  of  grouping."  42 

Thurnwald  knows  and  discusses  the  works  of  Codrington, 
of  Rivers  and  others  who  have  recently  studied  the  classi- 
ficatory system.  It  may  perhaps  be  interesting  to  recall,  after 
this  description  of  his,  one  which  was  given  more  than 
twenty-five  years  ago  by  a  Russian  savant,  Sieroshevski.43 
It  shows  that  the  earlier  Yakuts  possessed  a  familial  con- 
stitution strikingly  similar  to  that  just  related,  without  the 
author's  having  had,  apparently,  the  slightest  suspicion  of 
the  resemblance,  or  even  of  the  existence  of  the  classificatory 
system  in  general.  "The  ancient  words  for  family  relation- 
ships had  different  senses  from  what  the  same  words  have 
now.  For  instance,  the  Yakuts  have  no  word  for  the  general 
sense  of  brother  or  sister.  .  .  .  They  have  special  names  for 
older  brothers,  younger  brothers,  older  sisters.  These  wordst 
with  some  attributives  which  are  generally  omitted  in 
vituperative  speech,  are  used  to  address  uncles,  nephews, 
aunts,  grandchildren  of  different  grades,  and  even  step- 
fathers and  stepmothers,  although  the  two  latter  are  com- 
monly called  father  and  mother.  It  follows  from  this  that  the 
family  falls  into  two  groups — those  who  were  born  earlier 
and  those  who  were  born  later.  These  groups  form  the  back- 
ground of  the  terminology  for  family  relationship.  .  .  .  The 
author  thinks  that  in  the  beginning  the  Yakuts  had  no'words 
at  all  for  brother  or  sister,  and  that  the  words  used  now  for 
younger  brother,  younger  sister,  etc.,  were  terms,  not  so 


276  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

much  for  family  relationships,  as  for  sib  relationships,  and 
meant  simply  older  or  younger  sib  comrades."  Here  we 
recognize  the  "group  relationship"  characteristic  of  the  clas- 
sificatory  system. 

"The  Yakuts  employ  the  term  child  or  my  child" 
(probably  "child"  is  always  accompanied  by  a  possessive 
pronoun)  "not  only  to  their  own  proper  children,  but  also 
to  the  children  of  brothers  or  of  sisters,  or  even  to  brothers 
and  sisters  themselves,  if  they  are  very  much  younger.  They 
have  not,  therefore,  in  their  genealogical  terminology,  any 
words  for  son  and  daughter  which  testify  directly  to  a  blood 
relationship  between  specific  persons.  The  word  which  we 
translate  'son*  strictly  means  boy,  youth,  young  person.  It 
was  formerly  used  as  a  collective  for  the  body  of  warriors, 
or  the  young  men  of  the  tribe  or  sib.  .  .  . 

"This  lack  of  words  to  distinguish  between  son  and  boy, 
daughter  and  girl,  is  not  due  to  the  poverty  of  the  language; 
on  the  contrary,  their  genealogical  terms  astonish  us  by 
their  abundance  and  variety."  The  same  remark  has  often 
been  made  about  Melanesia,  Australia,  and  it  applies  almost 
everywhere  where  the  existence  of  the  classificatory  system 
has  been  ascertained.44  Not  only  do  they  distinguish  those 
of  earlier  and  later  birth,  but  they  have  a  special  denomina- 
tion for  younger  brothers  which  is  only  used  by  women. 
They  have  a  special  name  for  the  wife  of  a  husband's  older 
brother,  and  other  similar  peculiarities,  which  seem  incom- 
prehensible not  only  to  us,  but  also  to  the  Yakuts  of  to-day. 

"Accordingly  ...  we  infer  beyond  a  doubt  that,  at  the 
rime  when  the  present  system  of  genealogical  relationships 
took  its  origin  amongst  the  Yakuts,  the  precise  genetic  con- 
nection of  any  given  boy  with  his  parents  had  no  especial 
denomination.  All  the  old  people  in  the  sib  called  all  the 
young  people  in  the  sib,  up  to  a  certain  point  of  growth,  by 
the  same  denominatives." 

So,  too:  "There  is  no  word  for  father  which  admits  of  a 
natural  and  simple  explanation,  like  the  word  for  mother 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  277 

(procreatress) — the  word  for  father  should  be  translated 
'old  man.1  This  vagueness  in  regard  to  the  male  blood  tie, 
side  by  side  with  the  defmiteness  of  the  female  connection 
with  the  offspring,  is  very  significant. 

"Unions  between  them,  inside  of  the  sib,  were  exceedingly 
free  and  non-permanent.  The  children  could  know  only 
their  mothers,  and  they  could  know  them  only  up  to  a 
certain  point  of  their  age;  after  that  they  forgot  this  rela- 
tionship. It  was  supplanted  by  a  feeling  of  belonging  to  a 
certain  group.  Within  that  group  there  were  only  'men'  and 
'women,'  older  or  younger  than  the  person  in  question.  There 
are  out-of-the-way  places  amongst  them  now  where  the 
current  word  of  the  language  for  'wife'  is  unknown;  they 
meet  it  with  laughter.  A  word  for  'husband'  exists  nowhere 
amongst  the  Yakuts.  The  current  word  means  properly 
'man.' " 

To  sum  up  on  this  point,  in  places  where  the  classificatory 
system  exists,  relationship  is  "of  the  group"  only.  It  is  not 
individuals,  but  groups  that  are  interrelated;  individuals 
are  related  only  because  they  belong  to  related  groups.  Thus 
the  relationship  is  social  rather  than  familial,  in  our  sense 
of  the  word.  In  Western  Australia,  "When  a  stranger  comes 
to  a  camp  that  he  has  never  visited  before,  he  does  not  enter 
the  camp,  but  remains  at  some  distance.  A  few  of  the  older 
men,  after  a  while,  approach  him,  and  the  first  thing  they 
proceed  to  do  is  to  find  out  who  the  stranger  is.  The  com- 
monest question  that  is  put  to  him  is:  'Who  is  your  maeli?' 
(father's  father).  The  discussion  proceeds  on  genealogical 
lines  until  all  parties  are  satisfied  of  the  exact  relation  of 
the  stranger  to  each  of  the  natives  present  in  the  camp. 
When  this  point  is  reached,  the  stranger  can  be  admitted  to 
the  camp,  and  the  different  men  and  women  are  pointed  out 
to  him,  and  their  relation  to  him  defined: ...  I  took  with 
me  on  my  journey  a  native  of  the  Talainji  tribe,  and  at  each 
native  camp  we  came  to  the  same  process  had  to  be  gone 
through.  In  one  case,  after  a  long  discussion,  they  were  still 


Vfi  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

unable  to  discover  any  traceable  relationship  between  m^ 
servant  and  the  men  of  the  camp.  That  night  my  'boy'  re- 
fused to  sleep  in  the  native  camp,  as  was  his  usual  custom, 
and  on  talking  to  him  I  found  that  he  was  frightened.  These 
men  were  not  his  relatives,  and  they  were  therefore  his 
enemies." 45  The  relationship  in  question  here  is  evidently 
a  social  relationship  and  not,  like  our  own,  based  mainly 
upon  ties  of  blood. 

The  classificatory  system  also  constitutes  indeed,  as  Junod 
has  pointed  out,  a  hierarchy.  No  doubt  natural  sentiments 
are  not  stifled  beneath  this  social  structure,  for  all  observers 
agree  in  telling  us  that  "primitives"  adore  their  children, 
":hat  they  indulge  them  and  love  to  play  with  them.  Filial, 
fraternal  and  conjugal  affection  exists  among  them  as  with 
us,  though  pqrhaps  somewhat  differently  and  with  fine 
distinctions  that  it  is  often  difficult  to  define  precisely.  But 
it  is  above  all  the  implicit  "idea"  of  the  individual  in  his 
relations  with  his  social  group  that  differs  from  ours.  To 
convince  ourselves  of  this,  we  have  only  to  remember  the 
difficulty  we  experience  in  entering  into  the  sentiments  and 
ideas  Codrington  described  for  us,  which  appear  so  natural 
to  the  Melanesians. 

NOTES 

1  Smith  and  Dale,  The  lla-Spcal(ing  Peoples  of  Northern  Rhodesia,  ii, 

P-  344- 

2  L.  W.  Benedict,  Bagobo  Ceremonial,  Magic  and  Myth,  pp.  238-9. 

3  Relations  de  la  Nouvelle-Prance  (1634),  pp.  87-9. 

4  Leslie  Milne,  The  Home  of  an  Eastern  Clan,  p.  2. 

5  A.  C.  Kruijt,  Het  Ammisme  in  den  Indischen  Archipel,  p.  155. 
*lbid.,  p.  133. 

*  P.  A.  Talbot,  Life  in  Southern  Nigeria,  pp.  92-3. 

8  F.  A.  Talbot,  Life  in  Southern  Nigeria,  Introduction,  pp.   1-2. 

9  Elsdon  Best,  The  Maori,  i,  p.  342. 

10  Ibid.,  pp.  397-8. 

11  Ch.  Montcil,  Les  Eambara  du  Segott  et  du  Kaarta,  p.  220. 

12  A.  de  Calonne-Brfiufaict,  Azande,  pp.  20-4. 

13  Rev.  W.  C.  Willoughby,  Race  Problems  in  the  New  Africa,  pp.  82-3. 

14  Smith  and  Dale,  The  Ila~Speat(ing  Peoples  of  Northern  Rhodesia,  i, 
>\  296. 

15  H.  A.  Junod,  The  Life  of  a  South  African  Tribe,  i,  p.  376. 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  279 

pp.  296-7. 
"  Ibid.,  p.  289. 
18  Ibid.,  i,  pp.  356-7. 
^Ibid..  i,  p.  1 66. 

20  R.   H.  Coclrington,  Melanesian  Languages,  pp.   142-3. 

21  Ibid.,  p.  128. 

22  Bamlcr,  "Bemerkungen  zur  Grammatik  dcr  Tamisprache,"  Zeitschrijt 
fur  ajnkamsche  tmd  ozeanische  Sprachen  (1900),  v,  p.  198. 

23  B.  Blcy,  "Grund/uge  der  Gramnwtik  dcr  Ncu-Pommcrschcn  Sprache 
an  dcr  Nord-Kuste  dcr  Gazelle  Halbinsel,"  Zeitschrijt  fur  afn^amschc  und 
ozeanische  Spiachen  (1897),  111,  pp.  101-2. 

24  Strong,  "The  Roro  and  Mckco  Languages  of  British  New  Guinea," 
Zeitschrift  jur  Kolomalsprachen,  iv,  4,  p.  304. 

25  Peekel,     Vet  such     einer     Grammati^     der    Neu-Mecf(femburgischen 
Sprache,  pp.  68-9. 

26  A.  Thalhcimcr,  Beittag  stir  Kenntniss  der  Pronomina  personalia  und 
posse ssiva  dcr  Sprue  hen  Mchincsiens,  pp.  52-7. 

~7  Roschcr,  "Grundrcgcln  dcr  Baining  Sprache,"  Mitteilttngen  des  Semi- 
nars jnr  onentahsche  Sprachen,  vii,  p.  38. 

28  Ibid.,  p.  33. 

29  Dr.  R.  Thurnwald,  Die  Gemeinde  der  Eanaro,  pp.  133-4. 

30  A.  W.  Howitt,  The  Native  Tribes  of  South-East  Australia,  p.  157. 

31  Spencer  and  Gillcn,  The  Northern  Tribes  of  Central  Australia,  p.  95. 

32  R.  H.  Codnngton,  "On  Social  Regulations  in  Melanesia,"  /.  A.  1., 
xvni,  4,  pp.  306-7. 

33  Ibid.,  The  Melanesians,  pp.  36-7. 

34  A.  R.  Brown,  "Three  Tribes  of  Western  Australia,"  /.  A.  I.,  xliii 
(1913),  p.  150. 

35  R.  H.  Codrington,  op.  cit.,  pp.  28-9. 

30  R.  Thurnwald,  Die  Gemeinde  der  Eanaro,  pp.  iii,  115. 

37  Ibid.,  p.  133. 

88/foV/.,  pp.  136,  145,  148. 

**lbid.,  p.  149. 

*Qlbid.,  p.  154. 

41//W.,  p.  158. 

42  Ibid.,  pp.  123-4. 

43  W.  G.  Sumncr,  The  Yakuts.  Abridged  from  the  Russian  of  Sieroshevski. 
/.  A.  I.  (1901),  p.  89. 

44  With    the   Ba-Ila,   for   instance.    "The   secret   of   understanding   the 
system  is  first  of  all  to  rid  one's  mind  of  the  terms  one  is  used  to,  and  to 
grasp  firmly  the  principle  that  the  words  fata  and  bama  do  not  mean  what 
father  and  mother  mean  to  us,  but  rather  indicate  certain  positions  in  a 
table  of  genealogy;  and  the  same  with  regard  to  mwanangu,  mufaesu, 
etc. 

"The  terms  applied  vary  as — 

"(i)  whether  I  am  the  person  speaking,  or  spoken  to,  or  spoken  of; 

"(2)  whether  I  am  directly  addressing  my  relation,  or  referring  to  him 
or  her: 

"(3)  whether  I  am  speaking  of  myself  as  one  person  or  including  others 
with  me; 


280  THEMAKINGOFMAN 

"(4)  whether  the  speaker  is  older  or  younger  than  the  person  spoken  to; 
or  of 

"(5)  whether  the  person  speaking,  or  the  person  spoken  to,  is  male 
or  female. 

"The  vocabulary  is  equally  extensive  on  the  other  points."  Smith  and 
Dale,  The  lla-Spcaking  Peoples  of  Northern  Rhodesia,  i,  pp.  316-7. 

45  A.  R.  Brown,  "Three  Tribes  of  Western  Australia,"  /.  A.  L,  xliii 
(1913),  p.  151. 


INITIATION  CEREMONIES* 

By  BALDWIN  SPENCER  and  F.  J.  GILLEN 

IN  every  tribe  there  are  certain  ceremonies  through  which 
all  of  the  youths  must  pass  before  they  arc  admitted  to  the 
ranks  of  the  men  and  allowed  to  see  or  take  part  in  any  of  the 
performances  which  are  regarded  as  sacred.  The  more  im- 
portant of  these  ceremonies  are  two  in  number,  and  are 
fundamentally  similar  in  all  of  the  tribes.  They  are  those  of 
circumcision  and  subincision.  In  this  respect  the  central 
tribes  differ  markedly  from  those  of  the  eastern  and  south- 
eastern coastal  districts,  amongst  whom  the  initiation  cere 
monies  are,  or  rather  were,  of  a  very  different  nature. 

Amongst  these  coastal  tribes  a  very  characteristic  ceremony 
consisted  in  the  knocking  out  of  one  or  more  of  the  upper 
incisor  teeth.  It  is  a  curious  fact  that  the  central  tribes  very 
often  performed  this  ceremony,  but  in  this  instance  it  has 
nothing  whatever  to  do  with  initiation,  and  is  not  restricted 
to  the  men  as  of  course  it  is  amongst  the  tribes  in  which  it 
is  associated  with  initiation.  It  appears  to  be  very  probable 
that  this  was  the  older  form  of  initiation  common  to  the 
ancestors  of  the  central,  eastern,  and  southeastern  tribes, 
and  that  in  course  of  time  it  was,  for  some  reason  or  another, 
superseded  in  the  case  of  the  central  tribes  by  the  ceremonies 
now  in  vogue.  When  once  the  latter  became  established, 
then  the  older  ceremony  lost  all  sacred  significance,  and 
came  to  be  practiced  indiscriminately  by  men  and  women 
alike.  It  is  at  all  events  a  very  suggestive  fact  that  whilst 
amongst  the  central  tribes  we  find  traces  of  the  customs  as- 
sociated with  initiation  in  the  eastern  and  southeastern 
coastal  tribes,  we  do  not,  on  the  other  hand,  find  amongst  the 
latter  even  the  slightest  trace  of  the  characteristic  and  im- 

•  Northern  Tribes  of  Central  Australia.  London:  Macmillan  &  Co. 

281 


282  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

portant  ceremonies  o£  the  central  and  western  natives. 
In  addition  to  the  rites  of  circumcision  and  subincision, 
there  are  other  ceremonies  associated  with  initiation  through 
tvhich  in  some  cases  the  youths  and  in  others  the  adult  men 
must  pass.  These  are,  however,  really  of  secondary  im- 
portance. One  of  them  is  associated  with  boys  at  an  early 
age  and  the  other  with  men  of  mature  age,  while  the  two 
impprttnt  ones  are  always  performed  when  the  youth  ar- 
rives at  puberty.  We  tried  in  vain  to  find  any  satisfactory 
explanation  of  the  ceremonies  of  circumcision  and  subin- 
cision,  but  so  far  as  we  could  discover  the  native  has  no  idea 
whatever  of  what  these  ceremonies  mean.  One  thing  is  quite 
clear,  and  that  is,  they  have  not  the  slightest  reference  to 
keeping  down  the  numbers  of  the  tribe.1  It  must  always, 
in  regard  to  this  matter,  be  borne  in  mind  that  in  all  of  these 
tribes  no  one  is  allowed  to  have  a  wife  until  he  has  passed 
through  the  rites  of  subincision  and  circumcision,  and  that 
indeed  the  women  look  with  contempt  upon  those  who  have 
not  done  so.  Further  still,  if  the  natives  do  not  wish  a  child 
to  live,  they  adopt  the  very  simple  expedient  of  killing  it  as 
soon  as  ever  if  is  born.  This  plan  is  by  no  means  seldom 
adopted,  and  with  this  easy  and  well-recognized  means  of 
keeping  down  the  population  always  to  hand,  it  is  scarcely 
likely  that  the  men  will  submit  to  what  is,  after  all,  a  very 
painful  operation,  for  the  purpose  of  achieving  a  result  which 
Hot  only  can  be,  but  normally  is  gained  by  that  of  infanti- 
cide. These  initiations  are  of  very  ancient  date,  and  their 
true  meaning  remains  yet  to  be  discovered.  We  tried  hard 
to  find  among  the  traditions  of  the  various  tribes  anything 
which  might  afford  a  clue  to  their  meaning,  but  without 
success,  and  we  know  as  little  now  as  we  did  at  the  begin- 
ning of  our  work.  The  natives  themselves  have  no  idea  in 
regard  to  their  significance,  and  it  is  a  rather  curious  fact 
that  they  have  not  invented  some  tradition  to  explain  their 
meaning.  All  that  they  can  tell  you  is  that,  in  the  Alcheringa, 
or  the  equivalent  of  the  same  in  the  different  tribes,  there  was 
some  ancestor  or  other  who  first  of  all  performed  one  or 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  283 

both  of  the  operations,  usually  upon  himself  first  and  later 
upon  other  individuals.  Since  that  time  the  natives  have  con- 
tinued to  follow  his  example,  but  why  their  ancestor  first  of 
all  performed  the  ceremony  they  have  not  the  vaguest  idea. 

The  ceremonies  can  never  have  had  any  reference  directly 
to  procreation,  for  the  simple  reason  that  the  natives,  one  and 
all  in  these  tribes,  believe  that  the  child  is  the  direct  result 
of  the  entrance  into  the  mother  of  an  ancestral  spirit  in- 
dividual. They  have  no  idea  of  procreation  as  being  directly 
associated  with  sexual  intercourse,  and  firmly  believe  that 
children  can  be  born  without  this  taking  place.  There  are, 
for  example,  in  the  Arunta  country  certain  stones  which  are 
supposed  to  be  charged  with  spirit  children  who  can,  by 
magic,  be  made  to  enter  the  bodies  of  women,  or  will  do  so 
of  their  own  accord.  Again,  in  the  Warramunga  tribe,  the 
women  are  very  careful  not  to  strike  the  trunks  of  certain 
trees  with  an  ax,  because  the  blow  might  cause  spirit  chil- 
dren to  emanate  from  them  and  enter  their  bodies.  They 
imagine  that  the  spirit  is  very  minute, — about  the  size  of 
a  small  grain  of  sand, — and  it  enters  the  woman  through 
the  naveb  and  grows  within  her  into  the  child.  It  will  thus 
be  seen  that,  unless  the  natives  have  once  possessed,  but  have 
since  lost,  all  idea  of  the  association  between  procreation 
and  the  intercourse  of  the  sexes,  which  is  extremely  im- 
probable, the  elaborate  and  painful  ceremonies  of  initia- 
tion cannot  in  their  origin  have  had  any  direct  relation  to 
procreation. 

There  is  one  curious  fact  in  regard  to  the  distribution  ot 
the  initiation  ceremonies  amongst  the  tribes  in  the  northern 
part  of  the  continent.  Occupying  the  country  in  the  Port 
Darwin  district  is  a  tribe  called  the  Larakia,  which  ap« 
parently  differs  from  all  others  in  this  part  of  the  continent 
in  regard  to  initiation.  In  connection  with  the  latter  this 
tribe  practices  neither  the  rite  of  knocking  out  of  teeth  nor 
that  of  circumcision  and  subincision.  Unfortunately  we 
could  not  work  amongst  them,  and  were  only  able  to  gather 
a  little  information  from  a  member  of  the  tribe — an  elderly 


284  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

man — who  happened  to  come  down  to  the  Macarthur  River 
when  we  were  there.  The  tribe  has  for  long  been  under  the 
influence  of  the  white  man,  but  the  absence  of  ceremonies, 
so  characteristic  of  the  surrounding  tribes,  has  nothing  to 
do  with  this  fact.  The  initiation  of  the  Larakia  youths  takes 
*he  form  of  a  series  of  more  or  less  disagreeable  tests,  which 
are  evidently  designed  to  try  the  strength  and  endurance  of 
those  passing  through  them.  A  number  of  youths  who  have 
arrived  at  the  age  of  puberty  are  taken  to  a  retired  spot 
under  charge  of  certain  old  men,  whose  orders  they  have  to 
obey  implicitly.  Here,  as  our  informant  told  us,  the  old  men 
do  not  give  them  too  much  to  eat.  A  younger  brother  is  pro- 
vided by  an  elder  brother  with  such  food  as  he  is  allowed 
to  have.  Every  now  and  again  an  old  man,  without  any 
warning  or  reason,  will  bestow  a  hard  blow  or  a  kick  upon 
one  of  the  youths.  The  latter  must  neither  resent  nor  show 
any  sign  of  being  hurt,  which  would  only  result  in  his  re- 
ceiving worse  treatment.  The  old  men  also  make  the  youths 
undergo  severe  manual  labor,  such  as  that  of  cutting  down 
and  rolling  over  heavy  logs,  and  a  favorite  test  is  to  order  a 
tew  of  them  to  go  into  the  water  and  bring  a  crocodile  to 
land.  Finally,  when  the  old  men  are  satisfied  with  the  con- 
duct of  the  youths,  they  show  them  the  sacred  bull-roarer, 
which  is  called  Biddi-biduba,  telling  them  on  no  account 
to  allow  their  younger  brothers  or  any  women  to  see  it.  The 
youths  are  each  provided  with  one  of  these,  which  they  take 
out  into  the  bush  and  secrete  in  a  safe  place.  Unlike  what 
happens  in  most  of  the  other  tribes,  the  sacred  stick  is  not 
kept,  but  at  the  end  of  two  or  three  weeks  it  is  broken  and 
buried  in  the  ground.  The  women  call  the  stick,  or  rather 
the  noise  associated  with  it,  Eruba,  and  believe  that  this 
is  the  voice  of  a  spirit  who  has  come  down  from  the  sky  and 
is  carrying  the  youths  away  into  the  bush  from  which  they 
will  return  initiated  men.  With  the  exception  of  this  tribe  all 
of  those  occupying  the  central  and  northern  central  area  of 
the  continent  practice  the  two  important  rites  of  circum- 
cision and  subincision.2 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  285 

In  the  Urabunna  tribes  a  man  who  stands  in  the  relation- 
ship of  kadnini  (paternal  grandfather)  to  the  boy  seizes 
hold  of  him  and  puts  his  hand  over  the  boy's  mouth  telling 
him  to  remain  silent.  Placing  string  round  the  boy's  neck, 
the  old  man  takes  him  away  to  the  camp.  Here  he  is  made 
to  lie  down,  and  is  covered  up  while  the  lubras  dance  in 
front  of  the  men.  All  night  long  the  old  man  keeps  watch 
over  the  boy,  and  at  daylight,  after  the  women  have  once 
more  danced,  he  ties  the  boy's  hair  up  with  string  which 
has  been  provided  for  the  purpose  by  the  fatherl  Then  the 
boy  is  formally  shown  to  the  lubras,  the  old  man  with  the 
boy  running  round  and  round  them  shouting,  "Wol  Wo!" 
Suddenly  they  dart  off  into  the  scrub.  That  day  the  two 
start  away  to  visit  distant  groups  and  invite  them  to  come  in 
to  the  ceremony.  Each  time  they  approach  a  camp3  the 
old  man  takes  the  boy  by  the  arm  and  leads  him  up,  while 
the  strangers,  understanding  exactly  what  is  taking  place, 
shout  out,  "Paul  Pan!"  On  the  way  back  they  gather  to- 
gether the  various  groups,  and  for  a  time  the  lubras  accom- 
pany them,  but  are  left  behind  at  a  place  some  distance  from 
the  main  camp.  On  the  way  back  the  men,  after  the  women 
have  been  left  behind,  perform  a  few  sacred  ceremonies  in 
the  camp  at  night-time.  For  the  first  time  the  boy  sees  one  of 
these  and  learns  anything  about  the  secret  matters  of  the 
tribe  concerned  with  the  totemic  ancestors.  Some  miles  away 
from  the  home  camp  the  old  man  tells  the  boy  to  make  a 
big  smoke  so  as  to  let  his  father  and  the  other  men  know 
that  he  is  returning.  At  the  camp  the  women  sit  a  little 
distance  behind  the  men,  and  the  boy,  approaching,  walks 
past  the  men  and  sits  down  close  to  the  women.  Then  two 
old  men  who  are  \adnini  (grandfather)  to  the  boy  come  up, 
take  the  string  from  his  head,  and  lead  him  off  by  a  round- 
about way  to  the  men's  camp.  That  night  and  the  suc- 
ceeding one  singing  goes  on  without  ceasing,  and  totemic 
ceremonies  are  performed,  some  associated  with  local  groups 
and  others  with  those  to  which  some  of  the  strangers  belong. 
Then  the  boy  is  taken  a  little  distance  away  while  the  stone 


286  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

knife4  is  made  ready  by  the  J(awl(ii1(a  (mother's  brother) 
and  nuthi  (elder  brother).  After  this  the  boy  is  brought 
back,  the  singing  is  continued,  and  he  is  given  a  little  food 
to  eat. 

After  sunset  three  men,  who  stand  in  the  relationship  of 
otyiia  (father)  to  the  boy,  crouch  down  so  as  to  form  a  kind 
of  table  on  to  which  the  boy  is  lifted  by  his  \aw\u\a 
(mother's  brother)  and  \adnini  (grandfather).  Fur-string  is 
put  into  his  mouth,  and  a  witiwa  (wife's  brother)  sits  astride 
of  his  stor&ach.  The  foreskin  is  pulled  up,  the  l^adnini  man 
makes  the  first  cut,  and  this  is  rapidly  completed  by  the 
\aw\u\a.  Both  the  foreskin  and  the  stone  knife  are  handed 
over  to  the  elder  brother,  who  provided  the  knife,  and  he 
goes  round  and  touches  the  stomach  of  every  nuthi  with 
the  foreskin.  The  latter  is  then  placed  on  a  fire-stick  and 
buried  in  the  ground  without  any  special  ceremony,  no 
further  notice  being  taken  of  it. 

An  elder  brother  now  takes  the  initiated  youth  away  into 
the  bush  and  makes  a  small  plain  wooden  Churinga,  which 
he  gives  the  boy  to  carry  about,  telling  him  that  it  belonged 
co  the  Umbumbuninia  (the  equivalent  of  Alcheringa),  and 
that  he  must  keep  swinging  it.  On  no  account  is  he  to  allow 
any  lubra  or  child  to  see  it.  At  times  the  elder  brother 
watches  over  him  and  at  others  the  witiwa  (wife's  brother). 
He  is  not  allowed  to  eat  \adni,  the  jew  lizard  (a  favorite 
and  fairly  abundant  food  of  the  natives),  or  else  it  would 
make  him  sore  and  prevent  his  wound  from  healing.  On 
the  other  hand  he  is  supposed  to  make  presents  of  it  to  the 
old  men. 

When  he  has  recovered  from  the  operation  of  circum- 
cision he  is  brought  into  the  men's  camp,  no  women  being 
allowed  to  see  him.  Early  in  the  morning  he  is  painted  with 
red  ochre,  and  later  on  a  \aw\u\a  (mother's  brother)  takes 
the  string  off  his  head.  Then  three  men  who  stand  to  him 
in  the  relationship  of  o\nia  (father)  crouch  down  so  as  to 
form  a  kind  of  table  on  which  he  is  at  once  placed,  another 
vfaia  performing  the  operation  of  subincision.  A  small  piece 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  287 

of  bark  is  inserted  so  as  to  keep  the  wound  open,  but  is 
removed  after  a  few  hours,  the  blood  being  allowed  to 
trickle  down  into  a  hole  in  the  ground  which  is  afterwards 
filled  in  with  earth.  That  night  he  is  shown  more  sacred 
totemic  ceremonies,  and  men  who  are  witiwa  (wife's 
brother)  and  kadnini  (grandfather)  to  him  come  up  and 
tell  him  that  he  is  now  a  man  and  not  a  boy.  He  must  not 
attempt  to  have  intercourse  with  lubras  other  than  his  nupa 
and  piraungaru  (lawful  wives).  If  he  does  so  then  he  will 
fall  down  dead  like  the  stones.  He  is  not  on  any  account  to 
interfere  with  other  men's  lubras. 

In  the  morning  the  lubras  light  a  fire  and  place  green 
boughs  upon  it  so  as  to  make  a  smoke,  in  the  midst  of 
which  the  youth  kneels  down  while  his  J(tipu\a  and  %a](ua 
(younger  and  elder  sisters)  hit  him  on  the  back,  the  women 
who  stand  to  him  in  the  relationship  of  mother  being  close 
at  hand  to  prevent,  so  they  say,  the  sisters  from  hitting  him 
too  hard.  After  this  he  may  have  a  wife  and  takes  his  place 
among  the  initiated  men  at  the  urathilpi  or  men's  camp 
After  a  short  time  he  must  give  a  present  of  food,  which 
is  called  by  the  special  name  of  \atu,  to  the  men  who  as- 
sisted in  the  operation.  These  men  put  a  little  bit  of  meat 
up  to  his  mouth,  and  in  that  way  release  him  from  the  ban 
of  silence. 

The  final  ceremony  of  initiation  in  the  Urabunna  tribe 
is  called  Wilyaru,  and  is  common  to  this,  the  WonkgongarUj 
Dieri,  and  probably  several  other  closely  allied  tribes.  It  does 
not  occupy  a  great  length  of  time,  not  being,  in  this  respect, 
at  all  comparable  to  the  Engwura  or  final  initiation  ceremony 
of  the  Arunta,  but  in  both  we  meet  with  the  placing  of  the 
men  on  the  fire.  In  the  Wilyaru  an  important  part — in  fact, 
the  important  part — consists  in  laying  the  man  down  on  the 
ground  with  his  back  uppermost.  All  of  the  men  present 
strike  him  hard  (they  must,  of  course,  themselves  be 
Wilyaru).  Finally  two  men,  one  a  }^aw\u\a  (rriother's 
brother)  and  the  other  a  witiwa  (wife's  brother),  make  a 
series  of  cuts,  from  four  to  eight  in  number,  down  each  side 


288  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

of  the  spine  and  one  median  one  in  the  nape  of  the  neck. 
The  scars  left  behind  when  the  wounds  heal  up  enable  a 
man  who  has  passed  through  the  ceremony  to  be  dis- 
tinguished at  a  glance.  No  Wilyaru  5  man  will,  if  he  can 
avoid  it,  stand  or  sit  with  his  back  turned  towards  women 
and  children.  The  cuts,  according  to  tradition,  are  supposed 
to  represent  marks  on  the  bell  bird,  and  are  made  in  com- 
memoration of  the  time  when,  in  the  Alcheringa,  the  bell 
bird  was  instrumental  in  causing  the  death  of  a  great  hawk 
ancestor  who  used  to  kill  and  eat  the  natives.  At  the  present 
day  the  natives  will  not  eat  that  hawk  in  consequence  of  his 
cannibalistic  habits  in  the  Alcheringa.  In  connection  with 
this  it  is  not  without  interest  to  notice  that  in  the  Arunta 
the  wild  cat  (achilpa)  is  not  eaten,  and  that  in  the  Alcheringa 
it  also  was  especially  associated  with  cannibalism.  One 
ceremony  jn  connection  with  the  Engwura  represented  an 
attack  by  wild-cat  ancestors  on  a  native  camp  with  the  idea 
of  getting  human  bodies  to  eat.  Following  closely  on  this 
was  another  ceremony  representing  the  taming  of  the  wild- 
cat men.  In  the  one  tribe  the  cannibal  eagle-hawk  is  rep- 
resented as  being  killed,  and  in  the  other  the  cannibal  wild 
cats  as  being  tamed.  Neither  animal  is  eaten  by  any  one. 
The  Arunta  nowadays  do  not  know  why,  though  we  may 
conjecture  that  originally  the  reason  given  was  the  same  as 
that  now  given  by  the  Urabunna  people  in  regard  to  the 
hawk.  Ceremonies  associated  with  the  cessation  of  canni- 
balism are  represented  during  the  final  initiation  ceremonies 
of  both  tribes,  though  in  most  other  respects  they  are  very 
different  from  one  another.  In  the  case  of  one  of  these  cere- 
monies, they  may  perhaps  be  explained  as  commemorative 
of  a  reformatory  movement  which  probably  took  place  at 
some  early  time  in  regard  to  cannibalism. 

In  the  Unmatjera  tribe,  as  amongst  the  Arunta,  the  first 
ceremony,  known  as  alfyra-tyuma,  consists  in  throwing  a 
boy  up  in  the  air.  When  about  twelve  years  of  age,  he  is 
simply  taken  out  into  the  bush  by  men  of  various  relation- 
ships, and,  without  being  painted  or  decorated  in  any  way, 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION 

is  thrown  up  into  the  air  and  caught  in  the  arms  of  the  men* 
The  ifantera,  his  future  wife's  father,  carries  with  him  a 
stick,  and  if  the  boy  has  not  been  in  the  habit  of  presenting 
him  with  what  he  pleases  to  think  a  sufficient  amount  of 
food,  in  the  form  of  small  wallabies,  etc.,  when  he  catches 
any,  then  it  is  so  much  the  worse  for  the  boy.  As  he  rises 
and  falls  in  the  air  the  ifantera  strikes  him  repeatedly, 
emphasizing  each  stroke  with  the  remark,  "I  will  teach  you 
to  give  me  some  meat."  The  warning  is  not  lost  upon  the 
boy,  and  the  unpleasant  experience  serves  forcibly  to  remind 
him  that  he  must  very  carefully  regulate  his  conduct  in 
respect  to  his  ifymtera,  for  the  latter,  if  dissatisfied  with  his 
behavior,  has  the  power  of  taking  away  his  wife  and  of 
bestowing  her  upon  some  other  man.  After  having  been 
thrown  up,  the  boy  is  told  that  he  must  no  longer  go  to  the 
lubras'  camp,  but  must  stay  with  the  men  at  the  ungunja  or 
men's  camp,  and  during  the  day  go  out  with  them  hunting, 
and  not  play  about  with  the  boys  and  girls. 

The  ceremony  of  circumcision,  here  spoken  of  as  pulla, 
is  very  closely  similar  to  that  amongst  the  Arunta,  so  that  we 
will  only  "describe  it  very  briefly.  The  boy  who,  after  having 
been  thrown  up  in  the  air,  spends  his  time  with  the  men  at 
their  camp  and  hunting  with  them  out  in  the  bush,  is 
seized  one  night  by  men  who  stand  in  the  relationship  to  him 
of  elder  brother,  wife's  brother,  father's  sister's  son,  and 
taken  to  the  ceremonial  ground,  where  all  of  the  men  and 
women  are  assembled.  The  women  perform  a  dance,  after 
which  the  boy's  hair  is  tied  up  and  a  human  hair-girdle 
wound  round  his  waist.  He  is  told  that  during  the  cere- 
monies about  to  be  performed  he  must  stay  where  he  is 
placed,  and  remain  covered  up,  so  as  not  to  see  anything 
unless  he  is  told  to  watch.  Should  he  ever  reveal  any  of  the 
secrets  which  will  soon  be  told  to  him,  then  the  spirit 
Twanyirika  will  carry  him  away.  His  mother  then  presents 
him  with  a  fire-stick,  which  he  is  told  he  must  on  no  account 
lose,  nor  must  he  allow  it  to  go  out,  or  else  he  and  his  mother 
will  be  killed.  After  this  is  over  he  goes  out  into  the  bush 


2QO  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

for  some  days,  accompanied  by  an  elder  brother,  and  on  re- 
turning  is  brought  on  to  the  ceremonial  ground,  where 
meanwhile  the  men  have  been  performing  sacred  cere- 
monies. Exactly  as  in  the  Arunta  tribe,  some  of  these  are 
shown  to  him,  and  for  the  first  time  he  learns  the  secrets  of 
the  totems  and  the  history  of  his  totemic  ancestors.  The 
exact  nature  of  these  ceremonies  varies  according  to  the  men 
who  are  taking  part  in  the  performance.  Each  of  the  elder 
men  has  the  right  to  perform  certain  of  them  which  belong 
to  his  own  totem,  or  to  those  of  his  father  or  elder  brother,, 
which  he  has  inherited  from  them.  In  the  Arunta  tribe  it 
is  customary  to  perform  one  or  more  in  which  a  sacred 
pole,  called  a  nitrttinja  or  a  waninga,  is  used,  but  amongst 
the  Unmatjera  and  Kaitish  tribes  the  waninga  is  never  and 
the  nurtunja  but  seldom  used.  It  is  only  very  rarely  that  the 
tatter  is  met  with  north  of  the  Macdonnell  Ranges,  and 
its  use  appears  to  die  out  completely  a  little  to  the  north  of 
Barrow  Creek.  Amongst  the  Kaitish  tribe  we  have  only  seen 
it  used  once,  and  that  in  the  case  of  a  ceremony  of  the 
water  totem. 

The  actual  operation  of  circumcision  is  conducted  by  the 
boy's  father-in-law  (i\unterd)^  and  as  soon  as  it  is  over  he 
is  presented  by  his  elder  brother  with  a  Churinga  belonging 
to  his  father.  He  is  told  that  it  is  good,  and  will  assist  him 
to  recover,  and  that  on  no  account  must  he  lose  sight  of  it 
or  leave  it  anywhere  about  in  the  bush,  because  if  by  any 
chance  he  should  lose  it  then  some  one  would  kill  both  him 
and  his  mother.  It  must  also  on  no  account  be  shown  to  boys, 
or  else  they  will  have  their  eyes  put  out.  He  must  hide  him- 
self away  in  the  bush,  and  if  by  any  chance  he  should  see  a 
lubra's  track,  he  must  be  very  careful  to  jump  over  it.  If 
his  foot  should  touch  it,  then  the  spirit  of  the  louse  which 
lives  in  the  lubra's  hair  would  go  on  to  him,  and  his  head 
would  get  full  of  lice.  Not  only  this;  but  if  he  were  to  touch 
the  track  he  would  be  sure  sooner  or  later  to  follow  up  the 
lubra,  who  would  ask  him,  "Why  do  you  come  and  try  to 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  2Q1 

catch  me?"  and  she  would  go  back  to  the  camp  and  telj 
her  brother,  who  would  come  and  kill  him. 

The  foreskin  is  preserved  for  some  time  after  the  opera- 
tion by  the  ifymtera,  who,  when  it  begins  to  smell  offen- 
sively, gives  it  to  the  boy,  along  with  some  hair-string,  saying, 
"This  is  your  foreskin."  Then  the  ifantera  goes  back  to  his 
own  camp,  and  a  man  who  is  gammona  (mother's  brother) 
to  the  boy  comes  up  and  ties  the  string  round  the  latter's 
waist.  The  boy  puts  the  foreskin  on  a  shield,  covers  it  up 
with  a  broad  spear-thrower,  and  then,  under  cover  of  dark- 
ness, so  that  the  lubras  cannot  by  any  chance  see  what  he  is 
doing,  takes  it  away  and  puts  it  in  a  hollow  tree,  telling  no 
one  except  an  unl{idla  (father's  sister's  son)  man  where  he 
has  hidden  it.  There  is  no  special  relationship  between  the 
boy  and  the  tree,  though  in  times  past  there  possibly  may 
have  been,  for  according  to  tradition  the  early  Alcheringa 
ancestors  always  placed  theirs  in  their  nanja  trees — that  is, 
the  trees  specially  associated  with  their  spirits. 

At  an  earlier  stage  than  this,  while  the  boy  is  out  in  the 
bush,  he  is  visited  by  the  men,  and  on  one  or  more  occasions 
he  has  to  undergo  the  painful  operation  of  \oferta  falfywi, 
which  consists  in  the  biting  of  his  scalp  by  a  man  who  K  his 
gammona.  Though  a  comparatively  unimportant  ceremony, 
yet  it  is  a  very  painful  one,  as  the  biter,  urged  to  do  his  best 
by  the  men  who  are  sitting  around  watching  him,  does  not 
spare  the  boy,  who  often  howls  aloud  with  pain.  .  .  . 
Amongst  these  tribes  it  is  only  men  who  themselves  have 
very  good  heads  of  hair  who  are  allowed  to  bite  the  boys, 
their  bite  being  supposed  to  be  of  especial  efficacy  in  making 
the  hair  grow.  ' 

When  the  boy  has  recovered  from  the  operation  of  pulla, 
the  o\ilia  (elder  brother)  tells  the  other  men  that  it  is  now 
time  to  perform  the  operation  of  ariltha — that  is,  subincision, 
or  otherwise  he  will  grow  too  big  and  it  will  be  too  hard  to 
cut  him.  He  is  brought  up  by  the  ofylia  and  ttmbirna,  the 
latter  being  the  brother  of  his  future  wife.  These  men  have 
had  charge  of  him  out  in  the  bush.  The  men  are  all  gathered 


2$l  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

together  &  a  spot  some  distance  from  the  main  camp,  so 
as  to  be  out  of  the  way  of  the  women.  Here  all  night  long 
they  sit  around  small  fires,  while  the  father's  elder  brother 
and  the  boy's  own  elder  brothers  prepare  and  perform  sacred 
ceremonies  associated  with  their  own  totems,  showing  and 
explaining  them  to  the  boy.  The  latter  sleeps  with  the  men 
who  are  in  charge  of  him  a  little  way  off  from  the  rest,  so 
that  he  does  not  see  the  preparations  for  the  ceremonies,  but 
when  all  is  ready  and  the  performers  in  position  he  is 
brought  up  to  watch.  Then,  just  before  dawn — a  very  fa- 
vorite time  for  the  performance  of  many  of  their  rites — the 
father  himself  prepares  a  ceremony — always,  if  possible, 
using  a  sacred  pole  or  nurtunja.  When  it  is  over  the  elder 
brother  leads  the  boy  by  the  arm  up  to  the  pole,  telling  him 
that  it  is  his  own  father's  mtrtunja,  that  it  has  made  many 
young  men,  and  that  he  must  catch  plenty  of  kangaroo  and 
wallaby  for  his  father.  He  is  then  told  to  embrace  the 
nurtunja.  Green  boughs  are  now  strewn  upon  the  ground, 
»\  shield  is  placed  on  them,  and  the  nurtunja  on  the  top  again 
of  this;  finally  the  boy's  umbirna  man  lies  down  on  the 
nurtunja.  The  boy  himself  is  now  seized  and  placed  upon  his 
back  above  the  umbirna;  fur-string  is  thrust  into  his  mouth, 
one  man  sits  astride  his  body  while  others  hold  his  legs  in 
case  he  should  struggle.  The  man  sitting  upon  him  lifts  up 
/md  stretches  the  penis,  which  is  at  once  slit  along  its  length 
with  a  stone-knife.  In  the  Unmatjera  tribe  the  actual  opera- 
tion is  performed  by  an  ifyuntera  of  the  boy,  and  in  the 
Kaitish  by  an  otylia.  When  all  is  over — and  the  operation 
Seldom  occupies  more  than  a  few  seconds,  though  it  must 
»t>e  an  extremely  painful  one — the  boy,  who  is  usually  more 
or  less  dazed,  partly  with  pain  and  partly  with  fear  and  ex- 
citement, is  raised  to  his  feet,  and  his  father  gives  him  a 
Churinga,  saying,  "This  is  your  churinga  alcheri  which  had 
Vour  fytrnah  in  the  Alcheringa," — that  is,  it  is  the  sacred 
stick  with  which  his  spirit  was  associated.  "You  must  not 
jjo  about  the  lubras*  camp  when  you  carry  it;  if  you  do,  then 
will  lose  your  Churinga  and  your  brother  will  kill 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  293 

you."  His  i\untera  and  o\ilia  then  come  up  and  repeat  the 
same  thing,  telling  him  also  that  he  must  keep  to  the  lubra 
whom  his  ifanlera  gives  him,  and  must  not  interfere  with 
other  men's  lubras  or  go  to  another  camp  and  steal  one. 
If  he  were  to  do  the  latter,  then  sooner  or  later  other  black- 
fellows  would  come  up  from  that  camp  and  kill  both  him 
and  his  friends.  He  must  be  very  careful  always  to  pay  at- 
tention to  his  ifytntcra,  and  provide  him  with  plenty  of 
food.  While  out  in  the  bush  he  must  be  sure  to  make  the 
bull-roarer  swing,  or  else  another  arafytrta?  who  lives  up 
in  the  sky,  will  come  down  and  carry  him  away.  If  this  ara- 
f(urfa  hears  the  luringa — that  is,  the  noise  of  the  bull-roarer 
— he  says,  "That  is  all  right,"  and  will  not  harm  him. 

The  lubras  and  boys  are  taught  to  believe  that  the  luringa 
is  the  voice  of  Twanyirika,  who  is  supposed  by  the  Kaitisb 
to  live  in  a  particular  rock,  and  that  when  a  youth  is  initiated 
he  comes  forth  in  the  form  of  a  spirit  and  takes  the  boy 
away  into  the  bush.  He  is  further  supposed  to  hobble  along 
carrying  one  leg  over  his  shoulder.  Both  women  and  children 
believe  that  in  some  way  Twanyirika  kills  the  youth  and 
later  on  brings  him  to  life  again  during  the  period  of 
initiation. 

The  novice  meanwhile  gathers  together  a  large  amount  of 
a  grass  seed  called  idnimita,  and  gives  it  to  one  of  the  men  ii 
charge  of  him,  who  takes  it  into  the  men's  camp.  It  if, 
finally  handed  over  to  the  boy's  mother,  and  at  the  same 
time  the  lubras  are  told  that  Twanyirika  has  been  giving 
the  boy  alpha? 

When  the  wound  is  healed  the  fact  is  notified  to  the 
women,  who  make  a  fire  close  to  their  own  camp.  Then  the 
youth  is  brought  up  by  his  umbirna  itnjipinna — that  is,  the  ac- 
tual man  to  whom  his  sister  is  either  betrothed  or  mar- 
ried. He  brings  with  him  a  supply  of  kangaroo  flesh  which 
he  has  himself  secured.  At  the  same  time  the  mothers  and 
elder  sisters  bring  with  them  yams,  which  they  place  beside 
the  fire  on  which  green  bushes  are  piled  so  as  to  give  out 
great  volumes  of  smoke.  The  youth  kneels  down  on  the. 


294  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

bushes  in  the  midst  of  the  smoke.  One  or  more  of  his  mias 
(mothers)  holds  his  arms  while  his  sisters  rub  him  all  over 
and  then  touch  his  mouth  with  a  yam,  thereby  releasing 
him  from  the  ban  of  silence.  At  the  same  time  the  mother 
takes  the  forehead-band  from  his  head  and  keeps  it.  Then 
the  women  return  to  their  camp  with  the  offering  of  meat 
which  the  boy  has  made  to  them,  and  he,  together  with  his 
umbirna,  goes  to  the  ungunja,  carrying  the  yams  which  are 
efeferinja  (tabooed)  to  him  and  must  be  handed  over  to 
the  old  men. 

While  the  boy  is  out  in  the  bush  the  mother  wears  alpha 
in  her  hair  on  the  back  of  her  head,  and  is  careful  also  never 
to  let  her  fire  go  out.  The  object  of  the  former  is  to  assist 
the  boy  to  be  watchful  at  night-time,  so  that  no  harm,  such 
as  damage  from  snake  bite,  shall  come  near  to  him.  The 
ilplta  is  the  tail-tip  of  the  rabbit-bandicoot,  a  small  animal 
which  is  very  lively  during  the  night,  so  that,  of  course, 
according  to  native  logic,  the  wearing  of  the  alpita  is  a  sure 
stimulus  to  wakefulness.  Not  only  is  it  efficacious  in  the  case 
of  the  actual  wearer,  but  it  is  effectual  when  worn  by  some 
one  closely  related  to  the  individual  whom  it  is  desired  to 
influence  in  this  particular  way. 

The  actual  operation  of  circumcision  is  performed  by  one 
or  other  of  those  men  who  stand  to  the  boy  in  the  relation- 
ship respectively  of  auiniari  (wife's  father),  turtitndi  (wife's 
mother's  father),  or  tjurtalia  (wife's  mother's  brother).  The 
foreskin,  called  gnuru,  wrapped  up  in  string,  together  with 
the  stone  knife  by  means  of  which  the  operation  was  per- 
formed, is  taken  by  a  tjurtalia  man  to  the  naminni  (mother's 
brother)  of  the  boy,  who  in  return  presents  the  tjurtalia 
with  food.  The  foreskin  is  then  placed  in  the  hole  by  a 
witchetty  grub  in  a  tree,  and  served  the  purpose  of  causing 
a  plentiful  supply  of  the  grub;  or  it  may  be  put  in  the  burrow 
of  a  ground  spider,  in  which  case  it  is  supposed  in  some 
way  to  cause  the  penis  to  grow.  The  boy  himself  never  sees 
the  gnuru  and  is  not  aware  of  where  it  is  placed. 

When  he  has  recovered  from  the  operation  it  is  customary 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  295 

to  perform  that  of  subincision  or  parra  within  the  course  of 
the  next  month  or  two.  Amongst  the  Warramunga  this 
second  operation  is  always  carried  out  at  a  time  when  a 
large  number  of  men  are  gathered  together  in  camp  per- 
forming a  series  of  cacred  ceremonies.  Unlike  what  obtains 
in  the  Arunta  tribe,  it  is  the  custom  amongst  the  Warra- 
munga not  to  perform  odd  ceremonies  at  different  times, 
but  to  perform  a  long  series,  passing  in  review,  as  it  were, 
the  whole  Alcheringa  history  of  one  totemic  ancestor.  At 
this  particular  time,  for  example,  the  men  were  gathered 
together,  and  more  than  a  month  had  been  spent  in  per- 
forming ceremonies  relating  to  the  Wollunqua,  an  im- 
portant snake  totem.  It  was  decided  by  the  old  men  that, 
towards  the  close  of  these,  three  young  men  should  be  sub- 
incised.  Nothing,  of  course,  was  said  to  them,  but  one  day, 
when  a  special  and  very  elaborately  decorated  mound  had 
been  built  representing  the  old  Wollunqua,  the  three  youths 
were  suddenly  seized  and  told  that  the  time  had  come  when 
they  must  be  finally  admitted  to  the  ranks  of  the  men.  One 
of  them  was  a  Thakomara  and  the  other  two  were  Thungal- 
las.  The  former  was  under  the  charge  of  a  Thapungarti 
man  who  was  his  naminni — that  is,  his  mother's  brother— 
and  the  two  latter  under  that  of  Thapanunga  men  who  stood 
in  the  same  relationship  to  them.  Late  at  night,  when  all  of 
the  men  in  camp  were  gathered  together  singing  and  danc- 
ing round  the  mound,  the  three  youths  were  brought  up 
with  their  heads  covered  and  told  to  sit  down  quietly  and 
watch  the  proceedings.  Their  guardians  explained  to  them 
what  the  mound  meant;  they  were  told  that  they  must  not 
quarrel  with  the  men  to  whom  it  belonged,  and  especially 
must  not  throw  boomerangs  at  them. 

After  the  whole  night,  during  the  course  of  which  the 
mound  was  destroyed,  had  been  spent  in  singing  and  dano 
ing,  so  that  every  one  was  more  or  less  tired  out,  the 
guardians  of  the  boys  told  them  to  get  up,  and  they  were 
taken  to  a  spot  right  in  the  middle  of  the  main  camp.  Here, 
just  at  sunrise,  the  older  men  sat  down  quietly  in  a  group 


2p6  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

close  to  some  bushes,  behind  which  the  three  boys  were 
crouching.  Their  guardians  still  kept  careful  watch  over 
them  to  prevent  any  attempt  to  escape  from  the  painful 
ordeal  which  they  now  knew  that  they  had  to  pass  through 
in  a  short  time.  The  women  had  meanwhile  been  informed 
of  what  was  about  to  take  place,  and  ranged  themselves 
in  two  groups  about  thirty  or  forty  yards  in  front  of  the 
seated  men,  one  to  the  right  and  the  other  to  the  left  side. 
The  Uluuru  women  were  in  one  group  and  the  Kingilli 
in  another,  and  in  turn  each  of  them  danced,  jumping 
towards  the  men  as  if  their  ankles  were  tied  together.  At 
the  same  time  they  extended  their  arms  and  flexed  their 
hands,  with  palms  uppermost,  up  and  down  on  their  wrists. 
This  curious  hand  movement  is  very  characteristic  of  the 
women  when  they  are  taking  part  in  ceremonies.  Then, 
with  the  women  standing  only  a  short  distance  away,  three 
Tjapeltjeri  men,  brothers  of  the  future  wife  of  one  of  the 
novices,  came  forward  and  extended  themselves  at  full 
length  on  the  ground  immediately  in  front  of  the  seated 
men.  Two  Thapungarti  men  led  the  Thakomara  youth  out 
from  behind  the  bushes  and  placed  him  on  the  top  of  the 
Tjapeltjeri  men.  One  Thapungarti  man  sat  on  his  stomach, 
a  pubic  tassel  belonging  to  his  father  was  pressed  down  into 
his  mouth,  and  while  other  men  held  his  legs  and  arms 
the  operation  of  subincision  was  performed  by  a  Thapun- 
garti man.  As  soon  as  it  was  over  he  was  lifted  up  and, 
supported  in  the  arms  of  the  Thapungarti  men,  was  placed 
between  the  knees  of  the  old  Tjupila  man,  his  father,  who 
tied  a  hair  girdle  round  his  waist.  Then  in  turn  he  stroked 
the  heads  of  Tjupila  and  Thapanunga  men,  his  tribal 
fathers'  and  mothers'  brothers,  with  the  tassel  used  during 
the  ceremony,  and  was  led  to  one  side,  where  he  sat  down  on 
a  pitchi  into  which  the  blood  from  the  wound  was  allowed 
to  flow.  This  blood  was  afterwards  taken  by  a  Thapungarti 
man  to  the  camp  of  the  youth's  father  and  mother,  and  was 
drunk  by  them. 
During  the  next  few  weeks  sacred  totemic  ceremonies  were 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  297 

enacted  daily,  and  the  youths  were  always  called  up  from 
their  camp  to  watch  them,  each  of  them  under  the  charge 
of  a  guardian,  who  stood  with  his  arm  round  the  boy, 
carefully  telling  him  what  everything  meant.  At  the  close 
of  a  special  series  of  ceremonies  connected  with  the  Tha- 
laualla  (black-snake)  totem,  the  two  Thungall  boys  were 
brought  up  and  placed  in  the  midst  of  the  group  of  decorated 
men,  who  were  seated  on  the  top  of  a  drawing  made  on  the 
ground,  representing  the  snake;  the  headdresses  of  the  per- 
formers were  taken  off,  and  the  stomachs  of  the  boys  re- 
peatedly struck  hard  with  them. 

Ten  days  after  the  operation  the  Thakomara  youth  was 
presented  with  a  boomerang,  armlets,  and  forehead-band  by 
a  Tjunguri  man,  who  was  his  tribal  sister's  son.  He  came 
onto  the  corrobboree  ground  wearing  the  armlets  and  fore- 
head-band, and  carrying  the  boomerang  in  his  hand.  Four 
men,  who  were  respectively  Tjapeltjeri,  Thapanunga,  Tha- 
pungarti,  and  Tjunguri, — that  is,  representative  of  all  the 
groups  in  the  moiety  of  the  tribe  to  which  he  did  not  belong, 
— came  up  to  him,  and,  in  turn,  he  passed  the  boomerang 
through  their  waist-girdles.  Each  man  then  passed  it  in  the 
same  way  through  the  novice's,  the  last  man  allowing  \t  to 
remain  in  the  position  in  which  it  is  normally  carried.  This 
is  emblematic  of  the  fact  that  he  has  now  entered  the  ranks 
of  the  men,  and  can  take  part  in  their  occupations  of  hunt- 
ing and  fighting. 

Towards  the  close  of  the  series  of  ceremonies,  some  weeks 
after  the  operation  of  parra,  a  further  little  ceremony  was 
enacted,  the  object  of  which  was  evidently  to  show  that  the 
boys  had  passed  completely  out  of  the  hands  of  the  lubras. 
At  the  same  time  it  was  possibly  meant  as  a  warning  to  the 
boys  of  what  would  happen  if  they  disregarded  the  in- 
structions which  had  been  given  to  them  and  went  near 
to  the  lubras'  camp. 

The  natives  had  been  busy  all  of  the  preceding  day  in 
getting  ready  for  a  special  ceremony,  the  preparations  for 
which  were  made  by  the  men  of  one-half  of  the  tribe,  while 


298  THEMAKINGOFMAN 

the  other  men  carefully  kept  away  from  the  corrobboree 
ground  until  all  was  ready.  The  whole  night  long  the  former 
were  singing  and  dancing  on  the  ground,  while  the  men  of 
the  other  moiety  came  trom  their  camps  and  slept,  not  far 
away,  in  the  bed  of  the  creek,  from  which  they  were  sum- 
moned just  at  daylight.  Meanwhile,  acting  under  the  in- 
structions of  the  men  in  charge  of  them,  the  newly  initiated 
youths  had  spent  the  night  close  by  the  lubras'  camp,  and 
as  soon  as  ever  the  ceremony  was  over,  which  was  just  at 
sunrise,  the  guardians  of  the  boys  left  the  other  men  on 
the  corrobboree  grc'/nd  and  made  a  wide  circuit  so  as  to 
pass  round  behind  the  women's  camp.  The  women  mean- 
while had  deserted  the  latter,  and  had  taken  refuge  on  the 
far  side  of  the  creek.  The  guardians  of  the  boys,  who  were 
lying  concealed  on  the  ground,  came  along  rushing  and 
yelling,  in  the  direction  of  the  lubras'  camp.  When  they  were 
about  a  hundred  yards  off,  the  boys  sprang  to  their  feet 
and  raced  along,  as  hard  as  ever  their  legs  could  carry  them, 
towards  the  corrobboree  ground.  They  were  evidently 
anxious  to  lose  no  time,  and  were  urged  to  do  their  best  by 
the  yells  of  the  men,  and  still  more  by  the  boomerangs, 
which,  thrown  by  the  pursuers  with  all  their  might,  came 
bounding  after  them.  Once  on  the  corrobboree  ground  they 
were  safe,  and  here  they  joined  the  group  of  men  who  had 
been  watching  their  headlong  flight  with  amusement. 

The  only  thing  now  remaining  to  be  done  was  to  release 
the  boys  from  the  ban  of  silence.  This,  of  course,  meant 
presents  of  food.  In  the  first  place  the  boys  were  decorated — 
the  Thakomara  by  a  Tjunguri  man,  and  the  Thungallas  by 
Thapungarti  men.  Each  of  them  was  elaborately  painted 
both  back  and  front  with  designs  in  charcoal  and  red  ochre. 
Bringing  up  the  food  in  a  pitchi,  they  knelt  down  on  a  few 
boughs  which  had  been  spread  out  for  the  purpose  not  far 
from  the  main  camp.  The  Thakomara  was  in  one  place,  and 
the  two  Thungallas  side  by  side  not  far  away  from  him. 
The  women,  decorated  with  red  ochre  and  lines  of  yellow, 
approached  them  from  behind,  so  as  not  to  see  their  faces. 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  299 

Those  amongst  them  who  were  tribal  mothers  and  sisters 
stroked  and  patted  them  with  their  hands,  and  then,  still 
keeping  their  backs  turned  towards  the  lubras,  the  youths 
got  up  and  walked  away  to  join  the  men,  who  were  seated 
some  little  distance  off  watching  the  ceremony.  To  this 
little  ceremony,  the  performance  of  which  enables  the  boys 
to  speak  once  more  to  the  women,  the  name  of  barl^amunda 
is  given.  Later  on  still  an  offering  of  food  must  be  made 
to  the  men.  The  Thakomara  has  to  present  this  to  Thapun- 
garti  and  Tjapeltjeri,  and  the  Thungallas  to  Thapanunga 
and  Tjunguri  men.  Each  of  the  men  who  receives  food  holds 
up  his  finger  for  the  initiate  to  bite,  and  the  ban  of  silence 
is  thereby  broken.  This  ceremony  is  called  thallateilbunthan. 

In  the  Mara  tribe  the  operation  of  circumcision  is  called 
gniarti,  that  of  subincision  martinet;  in  the  Anula  tribe 
the  equivalent  terms  are  iaru  and  tal\ui.  The  actual  cere- 
monies are  very  closely  similar  in  both  tribes,  and  the  fol 
lowing  is  an  account  of  what  took  place  in  connection  with 
the  initiation  of  a  Roumburia  boy  in  the  Anula  tribe,  the 
equivalent  of  a  Tjulantjuka  in  the  Binbinga. 

The  boy  was  caught  by  a  Tjurulum  man  who  stood  to 
him  in  the  relationship  of  meimi  or  mother's  brother's  son. 
He  was  told  not  to  cry  out  or  make  any  noise,  for  the  time 
had  come  when  he  must  no  longer  walk  about  a  mere  boy 
but  become  a  young  man.  The  father  brought  up  a  hair 
girdle  (wuthari),  tied  it  around  his  waist,  and  sent  him 
to  his  mother,  who  tolci  him  not  to  cry  out  or  run  away, 
but  go  and  bring  in  a  big  number  of  black-fellows,  because 
they  wanted  to  make  him  into  a  young  man.  Then,  under 
the  charge  of  the  Tjurulum,  he  went  out  and  visited  dis- 
tant camps  in  turn,  the  men  being  asked  to  come  up  and 
take  part  in  the  ceremonies.  They  said,  "All  right,  we  will 
come."  From  the  different  camps  other  men  went  on  with 
them,  but  the  boy  was  allowed  to  speak  only  to  his  guardian. 
For  two  moons  they  wandered  about,  the  Tjurulum,  Pun- 
garinji  and  Yakomari  men  carrying  him  on  their  shoulders 
when  he  got  tired.  Meanwhile  his  father  and  mother,  the 


300  THEMAKINGOFMAN 

latter  assisted  by  other  women,  had  been  busy  out  in  the 
bush  collecting  food  supplies.  The  Tjuruluni  man  and  the 
boy  traveled  as  far  inland  as  a  place  now  called  Anthony's 
Lagoon,  more  than  200  miles  away  on  the  tableland  country* 
On  the  return  journey  they  lighted  big  fires  as  soon  as  they 
came  within  a  day  or  two's  march  of  the  home  camp,  so 
as  to  let  the  father  know  that  they  were  close  at  hand. 
These  fires  were  made  as  usual  by  the  boy  himself,  and  the 
Tjurulum  man  left  the  others  behind  and  went  on  ahead 
alone  and  said  to  the  father,  "I  have  left  your  son  at  my 
camp;  to-morrow  I  will  bring  him  in;  are  all  of  the  men 
here?"  The  father  told  him  that  all  was  ready  and  he  re- 
turned to  his  camp,  carrying  with  him  food  sent  to  the  boy 
by  the  father.  That  night  the  lubras  danced  in  the  male 
camp,  in  front  of  the  men,  who  sang,  and  in  the  morning 
the  boy,  accompanied  by  the  strangers,  started  for  the  home 
camp,  the  Tjurulum  man  again  coming  on  by  himself.  All 
of  the  men  and  women  had  painted  their  bodies  with  red, 
white,  and  black,  and  were  assembled  on  the  ceremonial 
ground  called  thamunty.  Seeing  that  all  was  ready,  the 
Tjurulum  man  went  back  to  bring  the  boy  in.  The  father 
sat  in  the  middle  of  the  front  row  of  men,  and  the  women 
stood  in  a  group  behind.  Then  the  strangers  approached, 
shouting  "Ka!  fo!  ya-a!"  those  from  the  hill  country  far 
away  inland  singing  out  also  "srrl  srr!"  At  first  they  held 
the  boy  by  the  hand,  but  on  approaching  close  he  was 
hoisted  onto  the  shoulders  of  a  Pungarinji  man,  who  ran 
with  him  round  and  round  the  local  mob,  so  that  his  father 
and  mother  could  see  him  clearly.  After  this  the  Pungarinji, 
Tjuanaku,  and  Tjurulum  men  amongst  the  visitors  came 
and  placed  spears,  hair  girdles,  and  other  articles  on  a  paper- 
J>ark  dish  at  the  feet  of  the  father  as  a  gift  to  him.  The  boy, 
who  had  been  decorated  with  fur-string  by  his  meimi,  was 
brought  up  to  his  father,  and  the  strangers  leaving  him  there 
retired.  After  sitting  for  a  short  time  by  his  father,  he  was 
sent  to  his  mother,  who  embraced  him  and  wept  over  him. 
The  mother  had  brought  up  a  supply  of  food  which  she  had 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  301 

placed  on  the  ground  at  the  father's  feet,  and  after  a  time 
this  was  handed  over  to  the  meimi  man,  who  took  it,  ac- 
companied by  the  boy,  to  the  strangers.  The  meimi  then 
painted  a  straight  line  across  the  backs  of  the  Pungarinji, 
Tjuanaku,  Tjurulum,  Thungallum,  and  Yakomari  men, 
and  acting  under  his  instructions  the  boy  added  three 
vertical  lines  below.  The  food  was  placed  by  the  boy  op- 
posite to  the  Thungallum  men,  who  were  his  future  wife's 
brother,  and  when  he  had  given  it  to  them  he  went  back 
to  his  father's  camp.  After  the  women  had  left  the  ground 
the  men  performed  a  sacred  ceremony,  and  early  the  fol- 
lowing morning  the  strangers  returned  and  remained  on 
the  ground  all  day,  a  number  of  ceremonies  being  per- 
formed one  after  the  other.  The  boy  meanwhile  had  been 
sent  to  the  meimi  woman's  camp,  and  told  that  he  must  not 
walk  about,  but  lie  down  quietly  and  go  to  sleep.  Later  on 
in  the  afternoon  the  strangers  painted  themselves  and  at 
sundown  came  on  to  the  ceremonial  ground,  where  the 
local  men  stood  in  a  single  line  with  the  women  behind 
them.  The  meimi  woman  brought  up  the  boy  covered  in 
paper  bark,  telling  him  not  to  look  about  but  to  keep  his 
eyes  fixed  on  the  ground.  He  was  handed  over  to  the  meimi 
man,  who  made  two  small  fires,  between  which  the  boy  had 
to  lie  down,  covered  over  completely  with  sheets  of  paper 
bark.  Then,  standing  on  one  side,  the  meimi  struck  his  two 
nulla  nullas  (clubs)  together,  shouting  out  as  he  did  so  the 
names  of  the  different  countries  from  which  the  various 
parties  had  come.  This  over,  he  led  up  the  painted  men, 
who  marched  round  and  round,  each  of  them  waving  a 
burning  torch  of  paper  bark,  after  which  they  returned  to 
their  camps  and  the  lubras  went  away.  Late  at  night  the 
men  were  all  recalled  by  whistling,  and  came  onto  the 
ground,  each  man  having  his  legs  decorated  with  bunches 
of  twigs.  Clanging  boomerangs  and  waving  paper-bark 
torches,  the  men  marched  round  and  round  the  boy,  who 
was  still  hidden  from  view.  Time  after  time  they  advanced 
and  retired,  singing  loudly,  until  at  length  they  all  stood  to 


302  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

one  side.  After  a  pause  the  meimi  man,  covering  his  eyes 
with  his  hands,  brought  up  the  Pungarinji  man  who  had 
first  of  all  carried  the  boy  into  camp  on  his  shoulders,  and 
at  the  same  time  the  painted  men  came  and  placed  them- 
selves in  front  of  the  boy.  The  Pungarinji  man  stood  behind 
the  latter  so  that  his  face  could  not  be  seen,  and  then  the 
boy,  instructed  as  to  what  to  do  by  the  meimi,  lifted  up 
the  bark  under  which  he  had  lain  concealed  and  gazed  at 
the  men.  After  a  few  minutes  they  ran  away  and  the  boy 
was  told  that  what  he  had  seen,  and  was  about  to  see,  was 
tyirta-kurta  (tabooed),  and  must  on  no  account  be  spoken 
of  to  women  or  children.  Sacred  totcmic  ceremonies  were 
then  performed  by  Pungarinji,  Tjuanaku,  Thungallum, 
Tjurulum,  and  Yakomari  men  in  turn,  each  of  them  being 
explained  to  the  boy.  At  the  same  time  songs  referring  to 
his  own  totem  were  sung.  Just  before  dawn  all  of  the  men 
took  their  boomerangs  and  clashed  them  together;  the 
meimi  handed  a  knife  to  a  Pungarinji  man,  asking  him  at 
the  same  time  to  perform  the  ceremony,  and  then,  warming 
his  hands  at  a  fire,  placed  them  on  the  thigh,  leg,  private 
parts,  and  head  of  the  boy.  Two  Thungallum  men  who 
were  napi-napi — that  is,  wife's  brother  to  the  boy — lay  down 
full  length  on  the  ground.  The  meimi  placed  the  boy  on 
top  of  them,  putting  fur-string  in  his  mouth,  and  telling  him 
not  to  cry  out  or  else  the  strangers  would  think  that  he 
was  a  coward.  Then  he  seated  himself  astride  the  boy, 
pulled  up  the  foreskin,  and  the  Pungarinji  man  at  once  cut 
it  off,  laid  the  knife  down  on  the  ground,  and  retired  to 
one  side.  The  boy  was  lifted  up,  and  standing  above  the 
two  Thungallum  men,  allowed  some  of  the  blood  to  drip 
down  on  to  their  backs,  thus  establishing  a  special  friendly 
relationship  between  himself  and  them.  After  this  they 
brought  up  spears  and  boomerangs  and  presented  them  to 
the  boy.  Some  of  the  blood  was,  as  usual,  placed  in  a  paper- 
bark  dish  and,  together  with  the  spears  and  boomerangs, 
handed  over  by  the  father  to  one  of  the  boys  tja\a\a 
(mother's  eldest  brother),  whom  he  told  to  go  and  bury 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  303 

the  blood  in  the  bank  of  a  water-hole  where  lilies  grew. 
The  foreskin,  tied  up  in  bark,  was  at  first  taken  possession 
of  by  the  tja\a^a  man,  who  subsequently  handed  it  over 
to  the  meimi,  his  son,  telling  him  to  send  it  on  to  a  tribal 
father  of  the  boy  living  in  a  distant  group.  This  man 
finally  brought  it  back  to  the  boy's  father  with  a  present 
of  spears,  and  it  was  then  handed  once  more  to  the  tja^a^a 
man,  who,  after  cutting  it  in  pieces,  buried  the  remains  in 
the  ground  by  the  side  of  a  water-hole. 

As  amongst  the  Binbinga  the  ceremony  of  subincision 
was  performed  some  time  afterwards,  when  the  final  burial 
rites  in  connection  with  the  bones  of  a  dead  man  were 
carried  out.  After  being  shown  the  ceremonies  connected 
with  the  totem  of  the  dead  man,  the  Tjulantjuka  boy  was 
subincised  by  a  Yakomari  man,  the  details  of  the  ceremony 
being  closely  similar  to  those  of  the  Binbinga  tribe.  When 
all  was  over  the  boy  was  presented  with  a  sacred  stick  (bull- 
roarer)  called  miira-mura  and  told  that  it  was  made,  in  the 
first  instance,  by  the  whirlwind;  that  it  was  \nrta\urta 
(tabooed),  and  must  on  no  account  be  shown  to  women  or 
children,  who  think  that  its  roaring  is  the  voice  of  a  great 
spirit  called  Gnabaia,  who  has  come  to  swallow  up  the  boy. 
He  was  then  taken  away  into  the  bush  by  an  elder  brother, 
and  kept  there  until  the  rain  had  fallen  and  the  cool 
weather  came,  when  he  was  brought  back  again  to  the 
camp,  accompanied  by  men  from  other  localities.  Meanwhile 
the  elder  men  in  camp  had  been  making  preparations  for 
the  performance  of  certain  special  ceremonies  concerned 
with  the  whirlwind  totem.  A  hole  had  been  dug  in  the 
ground  large  enough  to  hold  two  men  easily,  and  into  this 
a  Paliarinji  and  a  Tjulantjuka  man  went.  Food  was  placed 
by  the  side  of  it,  and  then  the  older  Tjurulum,  Tjamerum, 
Yakomari,  and  Thungallum  men  came  up  and  sang  around 
it,  after  which  they  retired,  taking  the  food  with  them. 
Later  on  the  younger  men  were  brought  up  and  shown  the 
hole,  which  they  were  told  represented  one  of  the  mungal 
spots  of  the  whirlwind  when  first  he  came  out  of  the  earth 


304  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

and  wandered  about  over  the  country.  Another  and  still 
larger  pit  was  then  dug  some  distance  away,  and  in  this 
whirlwind  ceremonies  were  enacted.  On  a  cleared  space 
by  its  side  a  pole  about  fifteen  feet  high,  made  by  lashing 
two  long  sticks  together,  was  fixed  upright  in  the  ground. 
The  whole  pole  was  tied  round  and  round  with  string,  a 
bunch  of  white  feathers  ornamented  the  top,  and  beneath 
this  a  nose-bone  was  inserted.  On  the  ground  at  its  base 
whirlwind  ceremonies  were  performed  at  night-time,  and 
the  young  men  were  told  that  it  represented  the  totem. 
Finally  the  recently  initiated  boy  was  hit  on  the  back  with 
the  sacred  mura-mura  which  he  had  carried  about  with  him 
in  the  bush;  the  stick  was  then  placed  in  the  hole,  the  soil 
heaped  over  it,  and  there  it  was  left.  After  having  witnessed 
this  ceremony  the  young  men  receive  the  special  name  of 
wanjilliri,  and  it  may  be  noted  that  there  is  a  curious  re- 
semblance in  certain  points  between  this  final  ceremony 
and  that  of  the  Engwura  in  the  Arunta  tribe.  In  each  in- 
stance the  ceremony  includes  the  erection  of  a  pole  the 
decorations  of  which  seem  to  indicate  that  it  has  some 
relation  to  a  human  being.8  It  is  placed  on  a  special  cere- 
monial ground,  and  around  it  ceremonies  connected  with 
totems  are  performed  in  the  presence  of  men,  all  of  whom 
are  already  fully  initiated,  so  far  as  the  ordinary  rites  are 
concerned.  Further  still,  in  both  cases  the  men,  after  having 
passed  through  the  ceremony,  receive  a  special  designation, 
ulittra  in  the  Arunta  tribe  and  wanjilliri  in  the  Anula  tribe. 

NOTES 

1  This  has  been  pointed  out  previously  by  Roth,  Ethnological  Studies 
Among  the  Northwest-Central  Queensland  Aborigines,  p.  179,  and  also  by 
ourselves,  N.  T.,  p.  264. 

2  Curiously  the  Arunta  tribe  has  a  tradition  relating  to  a  number  of 
individuals  who  were  taken  away  to  the  north  under  the  leadership  of  an 
Alcheringa  ancestor  named  Kukaitcha.  They  traveled  on  until  they  came 
into  the  country  of  the  salt  water,  and  there  they  stayed  and  remained 
always  u^circumciscd. 

*  Traveling  on  an  errand  such  as  this  the  man  and  boy  are  perfectly 
safe.  In  regard  to  this  immunity  from  attack,  even  in  a  strange  country, 
there  are  certain  fixed  rules  amongst  the  natives.  Any  one  carrying  a  sacred 


SOCIAL    ORCA.NlZATl^..  305 

stick  or  Churinga  is  for  the  time  being  sacred  and  must  on  no  pretense 
be  injured.  When  an  old  man  is  seen  with  a  youth  traveling  from  place 
to  place,  the  natives  at  once  understand  what  is  happening,  and  would  not 
:hmk  of  molesting  them.  Since  the  advent  of  the  white  man  a  letter,  or, 
as  the  natives  call  it,  a  "paper  yabber,"  carried  in  a  forked  stick  is  as  safe 
a  passport  as  a  Churinga. 

4  This  is  often  only  a  sharp  chip  of  quartzite,  or,  when  procurable,  the 
natives  prefer  a  splinter  of  glass. 

5  The  term  is  applied  both  to  the  ceremony  and  to  the  men  who  have 
passed  through  it. 

6  Arakiwta  is  the  status  term  applied  to  a  youth  who  has  passed  through 
the  ceremony  of  circumcision,  but  not  through  that  of  submcision. 

7  Tail-tips  of  the  rabbit-kangaroo,  Perameles  lagotis,  used  as  an  orna- 
ment by  the  natives. 

8  For  a  full  description  of  the  sacred  pole  called  Kauatia,  used  by  tU 
Arunta,  see  N.  T.,  p.  370. 


THE  COMING  OF  THE  WARRIORS* 

By  W.  ].  PERRY 

THE  Children  of  the  Sun  were  closely  connected  with  the 
archaic  civilization.  Their  disappearance  from  the  scene, 
which  has  so  often  happened,  was  accompanied  by  certain 
cultural  transformations  which  will  have  to  be  discussed. 
In  this  chapter  it  will  be  shown  that  the  sun-cult  was  a 
constant  feature  of  the  archaic  civilization,  and  that  it  dis- 
appeared, the  sun-god  being  replaced  usually  by  a  war-god. 
It  will  also  be  shown  that  this  change  in  deities  was  accom- 
panied by  a  change  in  the  habits  of  such  communities,  by  the 
adoption  of  a  more  warlike  behavior. 

Once  established  the  sun-cult  was  always  prominent  in 
Egyptian  religion.  But  later  on,  under  the  rule  of  Thebes, 
the  sun-god  became  more  definitely  warlike  than  in  the 
earlier  stage. 

In  Babylonia  and  Assyria  a  definite  transition  to  a  war- 
god  can  be  observed.  Tammuz,  the  god  of  the  Sumerians, 
was  first  connected  with  vegetation  and  fertility,  and  kings 
were  identified  with  him.  Very  soon,  however,  in  Sumerian 
history,  he  is  associated  with  the  sun-god  Shamash,  who  is 
an  important  Babylonian  god.1  Although  the  religion  of  the 
Babylonians  shows  many  signs  of  continuity  with  that  of 
Sumeria,  the  religion  of  Assyria,  a  Babylonian  colony,  re- 
veals traces  of  profound  political  changes.  Ashur,  the  great 
god  of  the  Assyrians,  was  a  war-god.2  He  evidently  was  the 
product  of  a  process  of  development  such  as  produced  Ram- 
man  or  Rimmon,  the  Assyrian  god  of  thunder,  lightning, 
wind  and  storm,  who  was  originally  identified  with 
Shamash,  the  Babylonian  sun-god.  The  culture-sequences 
in  the  case  of  the  Sumerians,  Babylonians  and  Assyrians 

•  The  Children  of  the  Sun.  London:  Methuen  &  Co.,  Ltd. 

306 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  307 

show  that  the  chief  gods  are  first  vegetation  and  fertility 
deities,  then  sun-gods,  and  then  war-gods. 

In  India  the  transformation  is  from  sun-god  to  war-god,8 
for  there  are  no  signs  of  the  Tammuz-Osiris  stage.  The 
culture-sequences  that  can  be  observed  are  those  between 
the  Aryans  and  Asuras,  and  between  the  early  and  late  stages 
of  the  Aryans  themselves.4  The  sun  was  a  great  god  of 
the  Asuras,  and  has  continued  so  in  those  parts  of  India 
under  Dravidian  influence.  Peoples  such  as  the  Mundas  of 
Chota  Nagpur,  who  speak  an  Austronesian  language,  the 
Gonds,  Khonds  and  other  Dravidian  tribes,  have  the  sun-god 
as  their  chief  deity.  The  sun  is  an  important  god  among 
many  of  the  Hindu  sects  of  Southern  India,  the  region 
where  Dravidian  influence  is  so  powerful.  The  Aryan- 
speaking  peoples,  on  the  other  hand,  had  Indra,  a  war-god, 
as  their  chief  deity.5  So,  in  the  culture-sequence  between 
Aryans  and  Dravidians,  the  sun-god  is  followed  by  a  war- 
god.  But  it  is  possible  to  go  farther,  and  to  establish  a 
culture-sequence  among  the  Aryans  themselves.  It  is  known 
that  Indra  had,  some  time  before  the  compilation  of  the  Rig 
Veda,  supplanted  a  group  of  sun-gods,  headed  by  Varuna, 
who  were  the  children  of  Aditi,  the  great  mother  of  god* 
and  men.fl  These  sun-gods  are  common  to  the  Aryans  of 
India  and  those  of  Persia  before  the  Zoroastrian  reform,  and 
among  them  is  Mithra.  So,  among  the  Aryans  themselves, 
a  war-god  had  come  to  the  front.  Varuna  himself  lost  his 
solar  character,  and  became  a  creator  god  and  god  of  waters. 
In  Vedic  India,  as  in  Assyria,  the  sun-gods  are  transforming 
themselves,  and  also  being  supplanted  by  war-gods. 

A  culture-sequence  can  be  established  in  Indonesia.  For 
in  Borneo,  the  Kayan,  who  have  immigrated  later  than  the 
Hindus,  have  no  sun-god,  and  no  ruling  class  of  Children 
of  the  Sun.  Their  supreme  god  is  Laki  Tenganan,  who  is  not 
endowed  with  special  functions,7  but  is  looked  upon  as  a 
fatherly  being  who  watches  over  their  interests.  He  is 
identical  with  the  supreme  being  of  the  Kenyan  ancl 
Klemantan,  tribes  whom  the  Kayan  have  civilized.  He  ii 


308  THEMAKINGOFMAN 

apparently  not  the  creator,  but  the  Kayan  are  not  clear  on 
tnis  point;  at  any  rate  he  does  not  figure  in  the  creation 
myth.8  The  most  important  of  their  ordinary  gods  is  Toh 
Bulu,  the  war-god.9  The  Kayan — this  obviously  means  the 
chiefs — claim  descent  from  gods,  especially  Oding  Lahang, 
who  acts  as  intermediary  between  men  and  Laki  Ten- 
ganan.10  Oding  Lahang,  they  say,  was  a  chief  who  lived 
long  ago.  It  is  interesting  to  note  his  ancestry.  "In  the  be- 
ginning there  was  a  barren  rock.  On  this  the  rains  fell  and 
gave  rise  to  moss,  and  the  worms,  aided  by  the  dung-beetles, 
made  soil  by  their  castings.  Then  a  sword  handle  (haup 
malat)  came  down  from  the  sun  and  became  a  large  tree.11 
From  the  moon  came  down  a  creeper,  which,  hanging  from 
the  tree,  became  mated  with  it  through  the  action  of  the 
wind.  From  this  union  were  born  Kaluban  Gai  and  Kalubi 
Angai,  lacking  the  legs  and  lower  half  of  their  trunks,  so 
that  their  entrails  hung  loose  and  exposed.  Leaves  falling 
from  the  tree  became  the  various  species  of  birds  and  winged 
insects,  and  from  the  fallen  fruits  sprang  the  four-footed 
beasts.  Resin,  oozing  from  the  trunk  of  the  tree,  gave  rise 
to  the  domestic  pig  and  fowl,  two  species  which  are  dis- 
tinguished by  their  understanding  of  matters  that  remain 
hidden  from  all  others,  even  from  human  beings.  The  first 
incomplete  human  beings  produced  Pengok  Ngai  and  Katira 
Murei;  the  latter  bore  a  son,  Batang  Uta  Tatai,  who  married 
Ajai  Avai  and  begot  Sijau  Laho,  Oding  Lahang,  Pabalan, 
Pliban,  and  Tokong,  who  became  the  progenitors  of  the 
various  existing  peoples.  Oding  Lahang  is  claimed  by  the 
Kayans  as  their  ancestor,  and  also  by  some  of  the  Klemantan 
tribes."12 

This  story  raises  an  important  point  in  mythology.  The 
history  of  the  Kayan  tends  to  connect  them  with  the  Hindus 
of  Java.13  Their  chiefs  claim  descent  from  the  sky,  and  in- 
directly, from  the  sun.  Their  most  prominent  deity  is  a  war- 
god.  But  what  is  the  function  of  Laki  Tenganan,  their 
supreme  being?  What  does  he  mean  in  their  history?  He  is 
identical  with  the  supreme  being  of  the  Kenyah  and  Kleman- 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  309 

tan  tribes,  whom  the  Kayan  probably  have  civilized.  This 
god  means  something  in  the  past  history  of  the  Kayan,  and 
possibly  he  was  connected  originally  with  the  sun,  from 
which  the  ancestors  of  Kayan  chiefs  seem  originally  to  claim 
descent.  If  Oding  Lahang,  their  great  ancestor,  were  one 
of  the  Children  of  the  Sun — he  certainly  is  in  the  line  o£ 
descent — and  if  he  usurped  the  place  of  Laki  Tenganan, 
then  it  is  possible  that  the  creation  story  presents  history 
through  a  refracting  medium  that  has  distorted  the  original 
nature  of  Laki  Tenganan. 

The  process  may  have  been  similar  to  that  of  India,  where 
Varuna,  originally  a  sun-god,  has  been  pushed  into  the 
background  by  a  war-god,  and  has  lost  his  solar  character. 
Were  it  not  that  other  information  exists  about  Varuna,  it 
would  not  be  possible  to  know  that  he  was  originally  a  sun- 
god.  The  case  may  be  the  same  with  Laki  Tenganan.  An- 
other important  tribe  of  Borneo,  the  Iban  or  Sea  Dyak. 
have  war-gods  as  their  chief  deities.14  Borneo  tribes  thus 
show  signs  of  contact,  in  the  past,  with  the  Hindu  caste 
of  the  Children  of  the  Sun;  their  chiefs  seem  originally  to 
have  claimed  descent  from  the  sun;  their  chief  deity  possibly 
changed  from  a  sun-god  into  a  vague  supreme  being  with 
no  cult;  and  war-gods  have  come  into  prominence.  x 

The  culture-sequence  of  sun-god  and  war-god  can  be 
established  in  the  Pacific.  The  Carolines,  or  at  least  Ponape, 
formerly  had  the  Children  of  the  Sun  as  rulers.  Then  came 
invasions,  and  in  Ponape  the  chief  god  is  Tokata  or  Tau- 
katau,  which  name  is  that  of  the  king  of  Kusaie-Tokasa — 
whence  came  invaders  who  broke  up  the  former  civiliza- 
tion.15 Another  account,  that  of  Christian,  says  that  the 
Children  of  the  Sun  were  wiped  out  by  warlike  peoples  from 
the  south,  led  by  Icho-Kalakai,  who  became  their  war-god.16 

With  the  exception  of  San  Cristoval,  New  Britain,  New 
Ireland,  the  Bismarck  Archipelago  and  New  Caledonia,  the 
sun-cult  is  a  thing  of  the  past  in  Melanesia.  It  is  said  for- 
merly to  have  existed  in  the  southern  part  of  the  New 
Hebrides,  representations  of  the  sun  having  been  found  on 


310  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

rocks  in  Anaitcum.17  In  New  Zealand,  along  with  traces  of 
the  Children  of  the  Sun,  go  certain  indications  of  the  former 
existence  of  a  sun-cult  among  the  ancestors  of  the  Maori, 
who  mention  a  sacred  mountain  in  their  homeland,  which 
is  the  abode  of  the  Bird  of  the  Sun,  so  well-known  in  con- 
nection with  the  sun-cult  from  Egypt  to  America.18 

Although  Melanesia  and  Polynesia  possess  traces  of  a 
former  sun-cult,  yet  most  of  the  important  Polynesian  gods 
are  war-gods,  who  often  have  demonstrably  displaced  solar 
gods.19  The  original  rulers  of  Tau,  that  part  of  Manu'a 
Vvhere  originated  the  first  ruling  families  of  Samoa,  were 
Children  of  the  Sun.  Tagaloa  Ui,  the  son  of  the  Sun  and 
af  Ui,  a  woman  who  came  from  a  country  that  possessed 
4  sun-cult,  had  a  son  Taeotagaloa,  whose  sister  was  the  wife 
of  the  Tuafiti,  that  is,  the  ruler  of  Fiji.20  Taeotagaloa  mar- 
ried two  girls.  Each  bore  a  son  on  the  same  day,  and  the 
ruling  power  of  the  two  parts  of  the  island  was  divided 
between  them.  When  the  sons  had  been  instituted  by  Tae- 
otagaloa in  their  offices,  he  said  to  his  brother  Le  Fanonga, 
"You  stop  here  in  the  east  and  be  the  war-god  of  Fitiuta,  but 
I  will  go  and  be  the  war-god  of  Le-fale-tolu/' 21  Taeotagaloa 
was  a  son  of  the  Sun :  he  changed  himself  deliberately  into 
a  war-god.  Henceforth  the  sun-god  disappeared  from  the 
active  cult,  and  persists  only  in  tradition  and  myth.  Tae- 
otagaloa was  the  last  god  of  the  sky-world  who  had  inter- 
course with  the  Samoans:  one  authority  claims  that  he  was 
the  first  man,  and  his  son  the  first  human  king.  It  is  sig- 
nificant that,  at  the  moment  when  human  dynasties  are 
inaugurated,  the  beings  who  previously  had  been  Children 
of  the  Sun  became  war-gods.  It  would  be  worth  much  to 
know  exactly  what  happened  at  this  moment;  some  im- 
portant historical  event  must  have  occurred  to  cause  this 
profound  change.  For  Taeotagaloa  evidently  was  a  real 
being,  in  that  he  is  the  traditional  representative  of  the 
Children  of  the  Sun,  who  came  to  Tau  of  Manu'a  in 
Samoa  to  live.  These  Children  of  the  Sun  went  back  to 
the  sky,  that  is,  back  home,  and  left  the  ruling  power  in 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  3!! 

the  hands  of  the  Ali'a  family,  members  of  which  spread  to 
Tahiti,  Rarotonga  and  elsewhere.22 

Oro,  the  god  of  the  marae  of  Opoa  in  Raiatea,  was  the 
chief  god  of  Tahiti  and  the  Leeward  Islands,  and  the  kings 
of  Tahiti  in  their  coronation  ceremony  became  his  sons. 
The  Tahitians  claimed  that  Oro  originated  at  Opoa,  whence 
his  worship  spread  to  the  neighboring  islands,  and  through- 
out the  Paumotu  group.  He  was  the  great  god  of  war  in 
Eastern  Polynesia,23  and  is  equated  to  Rongo,  the  great  god 
of  Mangaia  in  the  Hervey  Group.24  Rongo  was  the  twin 
brother  of  Tangaroa  in  Mangaia.25  Tangaroa  was  the  elder 
and  was  connected  with  the  sky.  He  is  identical  with  Tan- 
galoa  of  Samoa,  and  thus  is  really  a  sun-god.  Rongo,  on  the 
other  hand,  is  connected  with  the  underworld,  where  lives 
the  great  mother  of  gods  and  men.  On  account  of  the 
favoritism  shown  for  Rongo  by  his  mother,  Tangaroa  went 
to  Rarotonga  and  settled  there,  leaving  Rongo  in  possession 
in  Mangaia.  So  the  sky-god  has  retired,  leaving  the  war-god 
in  possession. 

The  first  king  of  Mangaia,  where  Rongo  dispossessed 
Tangaroa,  was  Rangi,  who  is  said  to  have  come  from 
Savai'i,  a  name  of  one  of  the  islands  of  the  Samoan  group. 
Since  Savai'i  occurs  so  often  in  Polynesian  tradition,  and  in 
connection  with  widely  separated  places,  it  is  well  not  to 
rely  on  this.  But  Savai'i  in  Samoa  is  so  closely  connected 
with  the  underworld  that  Rongo,  the  god  of  war,  whose  son 
Rangi  was  the  first  king  of  Mangaia,  might  well,  together 
with  his  son  Rangi,  be  connected  with  it.  The  picture  is 
completed  by  finding  that,  in  Rarotonga,  the  island  to  which 
went  Tangaroa,  when  disgusted  with  the  favoritism  shown 
to  Rongo,  the  ruling  family  was  founded  by  Kariki  from 
Manu'a  in  Samoa,  who  was  descended  from  the  sky-gods. 
Thus  the  place  with  sky-gods  is  ruled  over  by  people  claim- 
ing descent  from  a  sky-god,  in  fact,  from  the  sun;  while  a 
place  with  a  war-god,  who  rules  in  the  underworld,  has  a 
king  who  comes  from  a  place  closely  connected  with  the 
underworld,  which  in  the  case  of  the  Samoan  Savai'i,  was 


312  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

ruled  by  families  claiming  descent  from  Manu'a,  where  the 
sun-god  had  changed  into  a  war-god. 

Behind  all  this  mythology,  therefore,  a  political  revolu- 
tion is  being  accomplished.  The  Children  of  the  Sun  have 
vanished,  and  their  place  is  taken  by  other  rulers;  and  the 
sun-gods  give  way  to  war-gods.28  Thus  it  is  natural  to  find 
that,  as  in  New  Zealand,  all  male  children  are  dedicated  to 
the  war-god.27 

The  earliest  great  god  of  North  America  was  the  sun-god, 
who,  in  certain  parts,  reigned  supreme  to  the  end.  But  in 
Mexico  he  became  partly  superseded,  but  not  so  much  as  in 
Polynesia.  Just  before  the  arrival  of  Europeans,  the  Aztecs 
came  from  the  north  and  seized  power  in  Mexico.  They 
differed  in  culture  from  the  sedentary  agriculturists  whom 
they  conquered,  and  this  difference  is  shown  in  their 
pantheon.  They  had  a  war-god,  the  protector  and  leader  of 
the  tribe,  who  had  come  with  them  on  their  wanderings, 
named  Huitzilopochtli.  According  to  one  account  Huitzi- 
lopochtli  was  a  deified  man.  It  is  said  that  when  pushing 
their  way  to  Mexico,  the  Aztecs  had  a  leader  named  Huit- 
ziton,  who,  one  night,  was  translated  to  the  sky  and  presented 
to  the  god  Tezauhteotl,  the  frightful  god,  who  had  the 
form  of  a  horrible  dragon.  The  god  welcomed  him,  and 
thanked  him  for  governing  his  people;  and,  saying  that  it 
was  high  time  he  was  deified,  told  him  to  go  to  earth  and 
tell  the  people  of  his  impending  departure,  and  to  say  that 
his  skull  and  bones  would  be  left  with  them  for  protection 
and  consultation.  This  new  deity  was  called  Huitzilopochtli, 
for  the  Aztec  thought  that  he  was  seated  on  the  left  hand 
of  Tezcatlipoca.  They  took  his  relics  with  them  to  Mexico, 
whither  he  is  said  to  have  guided  them.  He  directed  the 
manner  of  sacrifice  that  he  wished;  for,  some  priests  who 
had  offended  him  having  been  found  one  morning  with 
their  breasts  cut  open  and  their  hearts  pulled  out,  this  was 
idopted  as  the  common  mode  of  sacrifice.  Thus  in  yet 
mother  culture-sequence  does  a  war-god  supersede  a  sun- 
god. 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  313 

The  Zuni  Indians  of  the  Pueblo  region  afford  a  remark- 
able instance  of  the  transition  from  a  sun-god  to  a  war-god. 
They  are  formed  of  the  amalgamation  of  two  peoples:  a 
branch  that  probably  descended  from  the  old  cliff  dwellers, 
the  people  of  the  archaic  civilization;  and  a  branch  from 
the  west  or  southwest,  less  advanced  in  culture,  who  did 
not  cultivate  the  soil  to  any  extent  before  their  arrival  in 
Zuni-land,  who  became  the  dominant  branch  of  the  tribe.28 

The  Zuni  have  a  long  creation  myth,  which,  according 
to  Gushing,  is  that  of  the  later  and  less  civilized  part  of  the 
nation.  It  is  to  the  effect  *hat  the  All-Father  Father  created 
himself  as  the  Sun,  "whom  we  hold  to  be  our  father."  With 
his  appearance  came  the  water  and  the  sea.  With  his  sub- 
stance of  flesh  outdrawn  from  the  surface  of  his  person, 
the  sun-father  formed  the  seed-stuff  of  twain  worlds,  im- 
pregnating therewith  the  great  waters,  and  lo!  in  the  heat  of 
his  light  those  waters  of  the  sea  grew  green  and  scums  rose 
upon  them,  waxing  wide  and  weighty  until,  behold,  they 
became  Awitelin  Teita,  the  "Four-fold  containing  Mother 
Earth,"  and  Apoyan  Tachu,  the  "All-covering  Father  Sky.v 
These  produced  all  life  in  the  four-fold  womb  of  the  Earth 
The  earth-mother  pushed  apart  from  the  sun-father,  and 
man  took  form  in  the  lowest  cave-womb.  Then  a  being  called 
"the  all-sacred  master"  appeared  in  the  waters  and  arose 
to  ask  the  All-Father  for  deliverance.  The  sun-father  im- 
pregnated a  foam-cap  with  his  rays  and  incubated  it,  so 
that  it  finally  gave  birth  to  twins,  the  Beloved  Preceder  and 
the  Beloved  Follower,  to  whom  the  sun-father  gave  knowl- 
edge and  leadership  over  men.29 

With  their  magic  knives  the  twins  cleft  asunder  the  Moun- 
tain of  Generation,  and  went  beneath  into  the  underworld, 
to  their  subjects.30  When  they  got  on  the  earth  they  at 
once  set  out  to  find  the  "middle,"  the  navel  of  the  earth, 
where  they  should  make  their  permanent  settlement.  It  was 
in  those  days  that  war  began.  "At  times  they  met  people 
who  had  gone  before,  thus  learning  much  of  ways  of  war, 
for  in  the  fierceness  that  had  entered  their  hearts  with  fear. 


314  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

they  deemed  it  not  well,  neither  liked  they  to  look  upon 
strangers  peacefully."31  Finally,  they  met  the  dew-people, 
who  claimed  to  be  their  elder  brothers,  and  the  two  groups 
joined  company.82  After  several  stays  in  different  places, 
"they  sought  more  often  than  ever  to  war  with  all  strangers 
(whereby  they  became  still  more  changed  in  spirit)." 

The  twin  Children  of  the  Sun,  well  aware  of  the  temper 
of  the  people,  changed  also  in  spirit.  They  founded  the 
Society  of  the  Knife,  "the  stout  warriors  of  the  Twain." 

"Of  blood  we  have  tasted  the  hunger, 
Henceforth  by  the  power  of  war, 
And  the  hazard  of  omens  and  dance, 
Shall  we  open  the  ways  for  our  people 
And  guide  them  in  search  of  the  middle. 
And  our  names  shall  be  known  is  the  Twain 
Who  hold  the  high  places  of  Earth. 

•  ••••• 
Come  forth,  ye  war-men  of  the  knife, 

•  ••••• 
Our  chosen,  the  priests  of  the  bow. 

•  .  •  .  •  • 
Ye  shall  changed  be  forever, 

The  foot-rests  of  eagles 
And  signs  of  our  order."  33 

The  twins  were  "strong  now  with  the  full  strength  of 
evil.  .  .  .  Twain  children  of  terror  and  magic  were  they."  34 
Finally,  their  wanderings  ended,  and  they  met  the  black 
people  of  the  high  buildings,  their  elder  brethren,  and 
amalgamated  with  them.35 

This  story,  to  my  mind,  is  one  of  the  most  remarkable 
ever  recorded.  It  is  a  piece  of  social  psychology  beyond  price, 
showing,  as  it  does,  the  change  of  behavior  in  a  people  as 
the  result  of  warfare,  and  the  consequent  change  in  their 
gods.  It  is  remarkable  that  the  Zuni  priests  should  so  ac- 
curately have  analyzed  the  causes  of  this  change  of  temper, 
and  have  recorded  them  so  faithfully.  It  has  already  been 
claimed  that  a  continuity  exists  between  the  archaic  civiliza- 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  3I»j 

tion  and  those  that  followed.  In  this  case  the  signs  of  such 
a  continuity  are  clear.  A  people  begins  with  the  Children 
of  the  Sun  as  their  culture-heroes,  the  twain  beloved,  and 
ends  with  them  in  the  guise  of  war-gods. 

In  the  Mound  area  the  sun-cult  existed  universally,  and, 
as  has  been  seen,  the  Children  of  the  Sun  were  ruling  over 
some  tribes  in  post-Columbian  times.  But  those  tribes  who 
gqf  horses  from  the  Spaniards,  and  went  across  the  Mis- 
sissippi after  the  buffalo,  suffered  many  transformations  in 
their  material  culture.  Their  religious  and  social  organiza- 
tion also  was  much  altered.  The  process  varied  with  the 
tribes,  so,  in  comparing  the  Plains  Indians  with  those  of 
the  Mound  area,  it  will  be  well  to  begin  with  the  most 
extreme  example.  The  great  Siouan  family  of  the  Plains  was 
split  into  several  divisions.  One  of  them,  the  Omaha,  which 
possesses  traditions  of  movement  across  the  Mississippi  from 
the  eastern  States,  has  lost  much  of  its  old  culture.  The  tribe 
has  two  divisions,  each  of  which  plays  an  important  part 
in  the  communal  life.  One  half  possesses  the  rites  that  ap- 
pertain to  the  relationship  between  the  individual  and  the 
cosmic  powers,  while  the  other  has  those  that  are  more  utili- 
tarian, and  those  that  pertain  to  war.  In  the  course  of  the 
wanderings  of  the  tribe,  most  of  the  first  set  of  rites  have 
disappeared,  while  the  practical  ones  are  retained.  They 
now  have  no  sacred  chiefs,  and  the  only  approach  to  a  god 
is  the  thunder  being,  so  closely  connected  with  war,  who  is 
in  the  sky,  and  is  sometimes  addressed  as  Grandfather. 
Certain  ceremonies  are  performed  for  each  individual,  such 
as  the  Introduction  of  the  Child  to  the  Cosmos;  Turning 
the  Child;  and  the  Consecration  of  the  Boy  to  the  Thunder, 
that  is,  to  the  war-god,  who  was  invoked  by  the  warriors.30 
No  trace  exists  of  the  sun-cult  among  the  Omaha,  and  no 
Children  of  the  Sun  rule  over  them.37 

Evidence  that  the  Siouan  family  once  had  the  sun-cult  is 
afforded  by  the  fact  that  the  chief  deity  of  the  Mandan,  "The 
Lord  of  Life,"  is  said  to  live  in  the  sun.38  It  is  important  to 
note  that  the  Mandan  approximate  closest  in  culture  to  the 


316  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

people  of  the  eastern  States,  for  they  have  retained  maize 
cultivation  to  a  considerable  degree,  and  have  not  neglected 
it  like  the  Omaha  and  others.  Certain  other  cultural  features 
also  show  them  to  be  nearer  to  the  archaic  civilization  than 
the  Omaha,  who  have  lost  so  much  while  wandering  across 
the  Mississippi.  The  old  sun-cult  has  also  not  entirely  died 
out  among  the  Hidatsa,  Tciwere,  Winnebago  and  other 
Siouan  tribes.  , 

In  North  America,  therefore,  historical  events  have  caused 
certain  tribes  to  lose  the  sun-cult  that  their  ancestors  pos- 
sessed. Thus  the  culture-sequence  of  the  Indian  tribes  is 
similar  to  that  of  the  rest  of  the  region,  namely,  from  sun- 
god  to  war-god. 

This  survey  shows  that  the  peoples  who  followed  the 
archaic  civilization,  or  were  derived  from  it,  in  any  spot, 
•differ  considerably  from  those  of  the  archaic  civilization, 
not  only  in  material  culture,  in  the  absence  of  stone- working, 
irrigation  and  so  forth,  but  in  other  ways;  for  they  have  often 
-•eplaced  sun-gods  by  war-gods;  and  also  lack  a  ruling  class 
of  Children  of  the  Sun. 

The  widespread  existence  of  remains  of  the  archaic  civ- 
ilization in  places  occupied  by  communities  not  capable  of 
their  construction  shows  that  there  must  be  a  profound  dif- 
ference between  the  two  cultural  phases.  There  is  every 
reason  to  believe  that  the  later  comers  were  intellectually 
equal  to  the  peoples  of  the  archaic  civilization :  they  simply 
lacked  the  necessary  organization.  Why  was  that? 

The  answer  to  this  question  apparently  lies  partly  in  the 
fact  that  the  later  comers  were  more  warlike  than  the  peo- 
ples of  the  archaic  civilization.  In  the  days  of  the  archaic 
civilization  wars  were  not  frequent,  and  time  and  energy 
were  available  for  great  works.  But  the  later  communities 
became  educated  in  war,  and  gave  up  constructive  work  in 
favor  of  domination. 

It  is  an  error,  as  profound  as  it  is  universal,  to  think  that 
men  in  the  food-gathering  stage  were  given  to  fighting.  All 
the  available  facts  go  to  show  that  the  food-gathering  stage 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  317 

of  history  must  have  been  one  of  perfect  peace.  The  study 
of  the  artifacts  of  the  Palaeolithic  age  fails  to  reveal  any 
definite  signs  of  human  warfare.  A  critical  analysis  of  the 
industry  of  this  age  in  its  various  phases  shows  that  the 
minds  of  the  people  were  intent  on  their  food  supply  and 
on  art,  which,  itself,  was  probably  connected  with  the  food 
supply;  and  that  the  various  inventions  made  in  their  flint 
industry  were  improvements  in  implements  for  preparing 
food,  and  in  modeling  tools  and  other  means  of  exercising 
their  artistic  capacities,  which  were  considerable.  Such  mat- 
ters are,  however,  outside  the  scope  of  this  book,  for  the 
great  bulk  of  these  remains  are  in  Europe.  Some  are  in 
India  and  Tasmania,  and  none  of  them  indicate  warlike 
activities. 

The  best  evidence  of  the  peaceful  tendencies  of  early  man 
is  provided  by  existing  food  gathering  communities  in 
various  parts  of  the  region.  In  another  place  I  have  col- 
lected the  descriptions  of  the  early  food-gathering  communi- 
ties in  all  parts  of  the  world,  and  the  unanimous  testimony 
of  the  authorities  leaves  no  room  to  doubt  that  these  peo- 
ples are  peaceful,  and  entirely  lacking  in  any  cruel  mode  of 
behavior.39 

The  coming  of  the  archaic  civilization  into  the  outlying 
regions  of  the  earth  therefore  meant  the  beginning  of  war. 
But  only  in  the  later  phases  did  war  become  serious.  The 
people  of  the  archaic  civilization  were  comparatively  peace- 
ful, as  the  following  accounts  show. 

Professor  Breasted  describes  the  Egyptians  as  "usually  un- 
warlike  ,  .  .  naturally  peaceful." 40  They  became  warlike 
as  a  consequence  of  the  invasion,  about  1688  B.C.,  of  the 
Hyksos,  who  dominated  the  country  for  some  time,  but  were 
ultimately  driven  out.  "It  was  under  the  Hyksos  that  the 
conservatism  of  millennia  was  broken  up  in  the  Nile  Valley. 
The  Egyptians  learned  aggressive  war  for  the  first  time,  and 
introduced  a  well-organized  military  system,  including  the 
chariotry,  which  the  importation  of  the  horse  by  the  Hyksos 
now  enabled  them  to  do.  Egypt  was  transformed  into  a 


318  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

military  empire.  In  the  struggle  with  the  Hyksos  and  with 
each  other,  the  old  feudal  families  perished,  or  were  absorbed 
among  the  partisans  of  the  dominant  Theban  family,  from 
which  the  imperial  line  sprang.  The  great  Pharaohs  of  the 
Eighteenth  Dynasty  thus  became  Emperors,  conquering 
and  ruling  from  Northern  Syria  and  the  upper  Euphrates, 
to  the  fourth  cataract  of  the  Nile  on  the  south."  In  the  earliest 
phases  of  Egyptian  history,  the  king  had  no  regular  army: 
each  nome  had  its  militia,  commanded  by  civilians.  There 
was  no  caste  of  officers.  In  case  of  serious  war  the  militias 
were  grouped  together  as  well  as  possible  and  put  under 
a  leader  chosen  from  the  officials.  "As  the  local  governors 
commanded  the  militia  of  the  nomes,  they  held  the  sources 
of  the  Pharaohs'  dubious  military  strength  in  their  own 
hands."41 

In  Babylonia  the  sequence  in  deities  is  that  of  Tammuz- 
Shamash-Ashur.  No  signs  exist  of  warfare  in  connection 
with  Tammuz;  his  attributes  are  the  reverse  of  pugnacious 
or  cruel.  In  connection  with  the  sky-gods  signs  exist  of  war. 
But  the  Assyrians  were  extremely  warlike,  as  is  shown  by 
the  following  statement :  "The  Assyrian  was  even  more  than 
most  of  the  empires  of  antiquity  a  well-organized  fighting 
machine,  and,  as  all  the  statements  about  Ashur  occur  in  in- 
scriptions written  after  the  era  of  conquest  began,  they 
necessarily  represent  Ashur  as  a  god  of  war."  42  They  thus 
differed  entirely  from  the  Sumerians  and  Egyptians.  The 
story  of  Egypt,  Babylonia  and  Assyria  is  thus  one  of  educa- 
tion in  warfare,  and  in  Mesopotamia,  along  with  this  change 
in  behavior,  went  a  change  in  the  ruling  families,  and  in  the 
gods  connected  with  those  families. 

In  India,  as  elsewhere,  the  old  civilization  succumbed  to 
the  onslaughts  of  conquerors  who  added  but  little  to  the 
cultural  heritage  of  the  country.  India  owes  most  of  its 
civilization  to  people  who  were  more  peaceful  than  their 
conquerors.  The  Dravidian  peoples  were  not  warlike  in  the 
same  way  as  the  Aryans:  they  were  agricultural,  and  lacked 
that  element  of  mobility  so  characteristic  of  the  great  war 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  319 

rior  peoples  of  history.  Beyond  doubt  the  break-up  of  civili- 
zation in  India  was  due  to  the  incursions  of  warlike  peoples. 
Otherwise  there  appears  to  be  no  reason  why  this  civiliza- 
tion should  not  have  persisted  indefinitely. 

In  Cambodia  the  downfall  of  the  great  Khmer  civilization, 
of  Dravidian  origin,  was  due  to  the  irruption  of  the  Tai- 
Shan  peoples  from  Yunnan,  with  a  much  inferior  civiliza- 
tion but  a  more  warlike  behavior.43 

Although  the  States  of  Southern  Celebes  have  always  pos- 
sessed a  military  organization,  the  heads  of  which  were 
princes  of  the  royal  blood,  yet  the  warfare  seems  to  have 
been  of  a  half-hearted  sort.  These  States  had  no  real  armies, 
which  seems  to  suggest  that  only  officers  existed.  "It  is  evi- 
dent from  this  that  the  warfare  must  have  been  of  a  very 
different  type  from  that  of  Europe."44  The  military  or- 
ganization is  thus  directly  similar  to  that  of  ancient  Egypt, 
being  of  the  nature  of  a  militia,  and  not  a  professional  army, 
such  as  exist  in  later  civilizations  in  Indonesia  and  elsewhere. 

The  great  civilization  in  the  Carolines  owes  its  downfall 
to  warlike  invasions.  It  is  said,  in  one  set  of  traditions,  that 
Yap  was  invaded  by  warriors,  so  that  the  people  fled  to 
Ponape.  Then  came  a  great  fleet  from  Koto  (PKusaie) 
under  a  certain  Ijokalakal,  which  captured  Ponape;  after 
this  the  old  customs  began  to  die  out.  Another  tradition 
shows  how  the  break-up  of  a  community  can  be  due  to  in- 
ternal causes.  Formerly,  it  is  said,  a  single  king  ruled  over 
Ponape.  He  lived  at  Metalanim  at  a  place  called  Pankatara. 
This  king  sent  his  nobles  to  rule  the  provinces,  and  in  time 
they  became  independent,  his  power  was  undermined,  and 
probably  wars  between  the  different  governors  became 
frequent.45 

If  culture-heroes,  who  visit  food-gatherers  and  civilize 
them,  are  representatives  of  the  archaic  civilization,  and  if 
the  food-gatherers  were  peaceful  before  their  arrival,  it  fol- 
lows that  peoples  with  culture-hero  traditions  Would 
probably  state  that  they  got  their  warlike  habits  from  these 
strangers.  This  is  expressly  so  claimed  in  British  New 


320  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

Guinea.  Oa  Rove  Marai,  the  culture-hero  of  the  Mekeo 
people,  having  quarreled  with  the  people  of  some  other 
village,  sent  for  the  Mekeo  people,  gave  them  spears  and 
black  palmwood  clubs,  and  sent  battle,  theft  arid  adultery 
among  them,  and  sorcerers  to  kill  people.  Thus  death  came 
among  them.46 

Similar  traditions  exist  in  Australia.  For  example,  the 
great  being  of  the  Kurnai,  Mungan-ngaua,  is  said  to  have 
given  the  people  their  weapons:  "They  are  told  that  long 
ago  he  lived  on  the  earth,  and  taught  the  Kurnai  of  that  time 
to  make  implements,  nets,  canoes,  weapons — in  fact,  every- 
thing that  they  know."  47 

Evidence  exists  with  regard  to  the  former  peaceful  nature 
of  Oceania.  With  regard  to  the  general  question,  I  venture 
to  quote  the  words  of  Mr.  A.  N.  Hocart.  He  says:  "My 
belief  is  that  a  highly  civilized  people  with  a  theory  of  king- 
ship akin  to  the  Egyptians  and  of  a  peaceable  nature  occu- 
pied the  South  Sea  Islands  (with  the  possible  exception  of 
peaceful  aborigines  in  the  interior  of  the  larger  islands).48 
They  were  gradually  pushed  back  towards  the  East  by  va- 
rious peoples  with  whom  warfare  was  a  religious  function; 
and  who  consequently  were  constantly  fighting  and  killing. 
I  should  not  like  to  say  that  the  original  civilized  inhabitants 
never  did  fight,  but  they  certainly  did  not  make  fighting  a 
regular  practice."  He  refers  to  the  fact  that  the  Tongans  have 
traditions  of  the  time  when  wars  were  not,  and  goes  on  to  say, 
"Wars,  or  at  least  frequent  wars,  were  certainly  imported 
into  Tonga  from  Fiji.  In  Fiji  one  can  almost  see  the  war- 
gods  moving  East." 

The  Tongan  tradition  is  recorded  by  Mariner.  "At  the 
time  when  Captain  Cook  was  at  these  islands  the  habits 
of  war  were  little  known  to  the  natives;  the  only  quarrels  in 
which  they  had  at  that  time  been  engaged  were  among  the 
inhabitants  of  the  Fiji  Islands.  .  .  .  The  bows  and  arrows 
which  before  that  period  had  been  in  use  among  the  people 
of  Tonga  were  of  a  weaker  kind,  and  fitted  rather  for 
sport  than  war— -for  the  pffrpose  of  shooting  rats,  birds, 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  p\ 

etc.  From  the  fierce  and  warlike  people  of  (Fiji)  .  .  .  how 
ever,  they  speedily  learned  to  construct  bows  and  arrows  of 
a  much  more  martial  and  formidable  nature;  and  soon  be- 
came acquainted  with  a  better  form  of  the  spear,  and  a 
superior  method  of  holding  and  throwing  that  weapon.  They 
also  initiated  them  by  degrees  in  the  practice  of  painting  theii 
faces,  and  the  use  of  a  peculiar  head-dress  in  time  of  war, 
giving  them  a  fierce  appearance,  calculated  to  strike  terror 
into  the  minds  of  their  enemies.  These  martial  improvements 
were  in  their  progress  at  the  time  of  Captain  Cook's  arrival, 
but  not  in  general  practice,  for  having  few  or  no  civil  dis- 
sensions among  themselves,  the  knowledge  of  these  things 
was  confined  principally  to  certain  young  chiefs  and  their 
adherents,  who  had  been  to  the  Fiji  Islands."  49 

The  Fijians  themselves  seem  originally  to  have  been  peace- 
ful. "The  ancient  legends  describe  a  peaceful  immigration 
of  a  few  half-shipwrecked  and  forlorn  people.  .  .  .  And  so 
far  from  being  an  entrance  at  that  early  period  of  a  vic- 
torious host,  it  is  not  till  long  after  that  any  serious  war  is 
even  hinted  at;  not,  indeed,  till  several  tribes  had  broken 
away  from  the  original  stock  and  become  independent." 
The  author  quoted  is  confident  that  war  on  a  considerable 
scale  is  comparatively  recent  in  Fiji,  and  that  the -introduc- 
tion of  firearms  has  had  much  to  do  with  it.60 

Manu'a,  the  earliest  settlement  of  Samoa,  was  a  land  of 
peace,  and  was  neutral  in  intertribal  wars.51 

In  Eastern  Polynesia  former  times  seem  to  have  been 
peaceful,  and  chiefs  and  their  followers  from  all  directions 
assembled  at  Raiatea  in  Tahiti  for  certain  ceremonies.  This 
delightful  condition  of  affairs  broke  up  because  of  quarrels 
among  the  priests  in  charge  of  the  ceremonies,  and  wars, 
murders  and  strife  ensued.62  This  is  substantiated  by  th? 
traditions  of  the  people  of  Hawaii,  which  state  that  the 
Children  of  the  Sun  formerly  lived  in  Tahiti  and  Hawaii, 
In  those  days  life  was  more  peaceful,  and  a  race  of  heroes, 
probably  such  as  the  Eyeball  of  the  Sun,  the  children  of  the 
£ods,  ruled  by  subtlety  and  skill,  and  went  to  other  islands 


322  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

for  courtship  and  barter.  Then  came  a  time  when  these 
chiefs,  having  to  protect  their  property  against  their  fellow- 
chiefs,  gave  up  these  long  voyages:  "Thus  constantly  in 
jeopardy  from  each  other,  sharpening,  too,  their  observation 
of  what  lay  directly  about  them  and  of  the  rational  way 
to  get  on  in  life,  they  accepted  the  limits  of  a  man's  power 
and  prayed  to  the  gods,  who  were  their  great  ancestors, 
for  gifts  beyond  their  reach." 63 

In  later  times  warfare  was  not  universal  in  Polynesia.  For 
example,  the  people  of  Bowditch  Island,  who  seem  to  have 
preserved  much  of  the  archaic  civilization,  were  quiet  and 
rarely  fought.54  Similarly  the  people  of  Funafiti  in  the  Gil- 
berts and  those  of  Tikopia  are  described  as  peaceful.  On  the 
other  hand,  in  Penrhyn  Island,  where  are  ruins  of  the  archaic 
civilization  far  beyond  the  capacity  of  the  present  popula- 
tion, fighting  is  incessant.  The  ancestors  of  the  people  came 
from  Rarotonga,  like  those  of  the  Maori.55 

Peace  reigned  in  Mangaia  in  the  days  of  Rangi,  the  son 
of  Rongo,  the  war-god.  The  art  of  war  is  said  to  have  been 
taught  the  people  by  denizens  of  the  underworld,50  that 
is,  by  followers  of  Rongo.  It  is  also  said  that  the  Mangaians 
owe  the  development  of  their  warfare  to  Tongans,  who 
brought  ironwood  with  them — so  useful  for  weapons.57  So 
the  Tongans  handed  on  what  they  had  learned  from  Fiji. 

The  Maori  found,  in  New  Zealand,  peoples  with  a  civiliza- 
tion that  seems  to  have  been,  in  some  respects,  superior  to 
theirs  in  material  culture.  These  people  were  peaceful.68  The 
cultural  decadence  of  the  Maori  themselves  is  ascribed  to 
their  fighting  habits.  "In  the  centuries  immediately  after 
the  first  immigration  all  evidence  points  to  the  existence  of 
large  States,  which  occasionally  were  subject  to  one  common 
head.  There  seems  also  to  have  been  a  religious  center.  This 
was  the  period  of  the  national  prosperity  of  the  Maoris,  when 
their  workmanship  also  attained  its  highest  perfection.  Tas- 
man  alone  saw  in  1642  large  and  splendid  double  canoes  in 
use  among  them;  such  canoes  the  Maori  of  the  eighteenth 
century  were  no  longer  able  to  build.  The  decadence  was 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  323 

universal.  The  ancient  kingdoms  broke  up  into  small  com- 
munities of  bold  incendiaries  and  robbers,  who  recognized 
no  political  center,  but  were  engaged  in  fierce  feud,  one 
against  another.  .  .  .  The  national  character,  always  in- 
clined to  pride  and  tyranny,  ended  by  becoming  more  and 
more  bloodthirsty,  revengeful  and  cruel."  G9  The  Moriori 
of  the  Chatham  Islands,  the  descendants  of  those  driven  out 
of  New  Zealand  by  the  Maori,  were  peaceful.  Their  laws 
forbade  killing,  and  they  said  that  all  fighting  had  been  pro- 
hibited in  the  days  of  their  ancestor  Nunuku.  They  formerly 
used  stone  axes  as  weapons,  but  latterly  had  only  a  pole, 
8  to  10  ft.  long,  fo/  fighting.60 

The  evidence  from  the  Pacific  thus  entirely  bears  out  the 
contention  of  Mr.  Hocart.  Where  culture-sequences  can  be 
established,  it  is  found  that  the  earlier  phase  was  the  more 
peaceful.  The  break-up  of  Polynesian  society  can  now  readily 
be  understood.  When  communities  give  up  their  peaceful 
habits  and  take  to  fighting  on  a  large  scale,  attention  is 
diverted  from  one  occupation  to  another.  In  the  Pacific,  the 
rise  of  warfare  coincides  with  the  degeneration  of  culture  in 
the  arts  and  crafts.  It  is  thus  legitimate  to  look  upon  warfare 
not,  as  many  do,  as  a  sign  of  strength,  but  of  decay,  from 
the  standpoint  of  material  culture. 

The  same  story  is  told  in  America.  The  earliest  known 
civilization,  that  of  the  Maya,  shows  signs  of  being  compara- 
tively peaceful.01  The  early  beliefs  of  the  Maya  depict  as 
the  principal  subject,  a  human  figure,  the  divine  ruler  or 
priest,  splendidly  clad  with  the  emblems  of  civil  and  re- 
ligious authority.  At  Palenque,  and  elsewhere,  religious 
ceremonies,  sacrifices,  self-torture,  are  depicted.  Curiously 
enough,  the  more  northerly  Maya  cities,  which  arc  of  later 
date,  contain  traces  of  war.  "At  some  of  the  northern  cities 
the  principal  figures  stand  on  the  backs  of  crouched  human 
beings  who  have  been  identified  as  captives,  and  at  Piedras 
Negras  captives,  bound  with  ropes  and  stripped  of  all  cloth- 
ing and  ornaments,  appear  huddled  together  before  a  ruler 
seated  upon  a  throne,  with  attendants  standing  on  either 


324  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

side;  or,  again,  an  elaborately  dressed  ruler  with  spear  in 
hand  and  an  attendant  standing  behind  him  faces  kneel- 
ing captives  or  warriors,  also  armed  with  spears.  These  two 
monuments  .  .  .  have  been  interpreted,  and  probably  cor- 
rectly, as  records  of  specific  conquests,  the  captives  represent- 
ing the  alien  rulers,  cities  or  tribes  with  their  corresponding 
nemaglyphs  on  their  shoulders  or  thighs.  But  at  best  these 
are  only  sporadic  cases,  and  an  overwhelming  majority  of 
the  Old  Empire  sculptures  portray  religious  ceremonies, 
deities,  rulers  and  priests."  62  While  the  Maya  in  the  center 
were  living  in  a  profound  peace,  those  on  the  outskirts  evi- 
dently fought  with  the  surrounding  tribes,  which,  on  the 
hypothesis  based  on  the  study  of  the  distribution  of  civiliza- 
tion of  various  stages,  have  been  derived  from  them.  That 
is  to  say,  if  it  be  granted  that  the  Maya  first  settled  peace- 
fully among  unwarlike  food-gatherers,  they  brought  with 
them  something  in  their  social  and  political  organization  that 
proved  their  ruin;  that  is  to  say,  they  ultimately  produced 
warfare.  This  hardening  process  is  at  work  in  the  later 
Maya  settlements  of  Yucatan,  where  a  certain  ruling  family, 
descended  from  the  sacred  priest-king  of  the  early  period, 
the  Cocomes,  evidently  went  the  way  of  other  ruling 
families.  They  ruled  at  Mayapan  in  Yucatan;  and  at  the 
time  when  certain  convulsions  were  taking  place,  "it  would 
appear  that  they  had  begun  to  exercise  a  closer  control  over 
their  vassals.  To  support  the  harsher  methods  which  they 
introduced  they  commenced  to  employ  the  services  of  mer- 
cenaries, 'Mexicans,'  recruited  in  Tabasco  and  Xilxicalance, 
and  by  their  aid  levied  tribute  upon  the  other  members  of 
the  league  to  an  extent  which  the  latter  were  not  prepared 
to  suffer."  °3  Thus  a  family,  claiming  descent  from  Kukul- 
can,  a  Son  of  the  Sun,  began  to  take  on  the  aspect  of  a 
typical  warrior  aristocracy.  The  ruling  class  of  Chichen-Itza, 
another  Maya  settlement  in  Yucatan,  also  constituted  a 
warrior  caste.64 

So,  in  the  case  of  the  Maya,  the  story  is  one  of  education 
in  warfare.  The  earliest  cities  show  no  trace  of  fighting; 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  325 

then,  on  the  outskirts,  the  later  cities  were  engaged  in  war. 
The  ruling  class  of  the  later  cities  probably  were  Children 
of  the  Sun.  When  the  Maya  left  Guatemala  and  went  to 
Yucatan,  their  rulers  tended  to  become'  definitely  warlike 
and  to  behave  cruelly.  Presumably,  like  the  ancient  Egyp- 
tians, they  were  educated  in  war.  The  growing  aggression 
of  the  rulers  of  Mayapan  seems  itself  to  have  caused  much 
turmoil  in  Yucatan.  Thus  the  phenomenon  of  the  increasing 
warfare  will  probably  find  its  explanation  in  that  of  the 
change  of  behavior  of  the  ruling  classes. 

The  warlike  activities  of  Mexico  in  the  time  of  the  Aztecs 
are  well  known.  According  to  Bandelier,  speaking  of  the 
Aztecs:  "War,  at  first  defensive,  afterwards  offensive,  be- 
came the  life  of  the  tribe." 63  The  later  civilizations  certainly 
far  surpassed,  in  this  respect,  the  early  civilization  of  the 
Maya.  So,  not  only  did  the  Maya  become  more  warlike,  but 
their  successors,  who  surpassed  them,  went  through  the  same 
process  of  education. 

The  hypothesis  adopted  with  regard  to  North  America 
was  that  the  civilization  of  that  region  can  be  regarded  as  a 
unity,  derived  ultimately  from  Mexico  and  the  south.  The 
cultivation  of  maize,  pottery  making,  the  working  of  metals, 
the  use  of  pearls  and  manufacture  of  polished  stone  imple- 
ments, and  the  tales  of  culture-heroes,  have  been  adduced 
as  evidence  of  this  unity.  If  it  be  true  that  the  practice  of 
warfare  has  been  derived  from  the  archaic  civilization,  that 
the  people  who  brought  in  maize-cultivation  to  the  food- 
gatherers  also  turned  them  into  fighters,  it  will  not  be  sur- 
prising to  find  further  evidence  of  unity  of  culture.  This 
evidence  is  forthcoming. 

In  North  America  in  post-Columbian  times  the  military 
organizations  of  the  various  tribes  were  similar.  According 
to  the  Huguenot  narratives,  the  tribes  of  North  Florida  and 
the  adjacent  region  had  a  military  system  and  marching  order 
almost  as  exact  as  that  of  a  modern  civilized  nation-,  the 
various  grades  of  rank  being  distinguished  by  specific  titles 
The  Indians  who  went  into  the  Plains  after  the  buffalo  had 


326  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

military  organizations  so  similar  as  to  suggest  a  common 
origin.60  Thus  once  again  signs  of  unity  run  through  the 
civilization  of  North  America. 

The  post-Columbian  Indians  seem  to  have  been  more  war- 
like than  their  predecessors  for:  "From  what  we  know  of 
the  Indian  character,  there  is  every  reason  to  believe  that 
the  non-sanguinary  sun-worshiping  tribes  were  conquered 
and  rudely  driven  off" 6T  by  the  ancestors  of  the  post- 
Columbian  Indians.  In  their  place  are  warlike  tribes  such 
as  the  Iroquois,  with  war-gods  as  their  chief  deities.08  This 
agrees  with  the  Huron  and  Wyandot  tradition  that  the  sky- 
world,  the  place  associated  with  the  people  of  the  archaic 
civilization,  was  peaceful.09  Several  of  the  Plains  tribes  were 
very  warlike,  especially  the  Pawnee,  for  whom  war  was 
business  and  pleasure.  By  it  they  amassed  wealth,  and  gained 
credit  and  renown.  They  captured  all  the  surrounding  tribes, 
and  claimed  to  hold  the  country  from  the  Missouri  to  the 
Rockies,  and  from  the  Nebraska  southwards  to  the  Arkansas 
or  the  Canadian  River.70  They  had  given  up  the  sun-god, 
which  is  shown  by  the  fact  that  they  came  out  of  the  south- 
west, where  the  sun-cult  was  universal;  and  also  by  the  fact 
that  the  Skidi,  a  branch  of  the  tribe,  still  retain  some  sort 
of  sun-cult,  although,  even  in  this  case,  the  sun  is  unim- 
portant.71 

The  study  of  culture-sequences  has  led  to  the  generaliza- 
tion that,  in  all  parts  of  the  region,  the  earlier  civilization 
seems  to  be  the  more  peaceful.  The  archaic  civilization  has 
spread  out  into  countries  inhabited  by  peaceful  food- 
gatherers,  and  the  earliest  settlements  were  probably  also 
peaceful,  which  accords  with  their  apparent  industrial  na- 
ture. Men  engaged  in  mining  for  gold  would  be  more  in- 
terested in  that  than  in  fighting.  Moreover,  such  settlements 
would  be  sparse;  India,  for  example,  with  the  exception  of 
Bellary,  and  one  or  two  other  places,  does  not  seem  to  have 
possessed  any  great  concentration  of  population  in  those 
early  days,  so  that  a  pretext  for  warfare  would  hardly  exist. 

One  fact  points  to  warfare  in  this  period — the  building  of 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  327 

fortifications.  What,  it  may  be  asked,  would  be  the  aim  of 
such  fortifications  if  no  warlike  peoples  were  feared?  This 
difficulty  tends  to  ignore  the  probable  nature  of  these  settle- 
ments. They  were,  according  to  the  hypothesis,  those  of 
peoples  with  a  fairly  high  degree  of  civilization,  of  whose 
provenance  it  will  be  necessary  later  to  inquire.  If  it  be 
assumed  that  they  came  from  some  country  where  war  had 
already  begun,  where  the  building  of  fortresses  was  a  habit, 
then,  to  account  for  the  fortifications,  it  is  only  necessary  to 
invoke  the  innate  tendency  for  settlers  to  reproduce  the 
culture  of  their  homeland.  Perhaps  an  instance  from  outside 
the  region  will  help.  The  great  ruins  of  Zimbabwe,  south 
of  the  Zambesi,  built  by  men  working  the  goldfields,  are 
fortresses.  Yet,  beyond  doubt,  they  were  built  without  reason. 
The  warlike  Bantu  had  not  yet  swarmed  down  from  the 
north:  the  only  possible  inhabitants  of  the  country  were  the 
peaceful  Bushmen  and  Hottentots.  This  makes  these  great 
fortresses  simply  ridiculous.  So,  in  places  such  as  India,  the 
habit  of  living  on  hilltops  may  have  been  brought  by  the 
people  of  the  archaic  civilization  from  their  homes,  and  thus 
would  have  no  reference  to  the  conditions  of  the  countries 
where  they  lived.  It  is  further  necessary  to  add  that  the 
more  warlike  peoples  of  the  earth  have  not  usually  been 
given  to  the  making  of  fortifications,  and  this  makes  the 
peaceful  nature  of  the  people  of  the  archaic  civilization  more 
probable.  At  the  same  time  these  people  must  have  had  some 
warfare,  and  the  habit  of  fighting  must  have  developed.  It 
must  be  remembered  that  the  archaic  civilization  was  based 
on  agriculture,  which  implies  a  steady  increase  of  popula- 
tion. A  new  world  was  created  wherever  these  people  set- 
tled; food-gathering  gave  place  to  food-producing,  and  new 
peoples  came  into  being.  In  this  way  the  chances  of  wair 
must  have  increased  in  several  ways. 

The  surveys  of  this  chapter  have  shown  that  the  loss 
of  the  sun-cult  and  of  the  Children  of  the  Sun  and  the  ap- 
pearance in  their  place  of  warrior  chiefs  and  war-gods,  has 
been  accompanied  by  an  actual  change  in  the  behavior  of 


^28  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

peoples.  This  is  the  first  example  yet  adduced  of  the  rela- 
tionship between  various  elements  of  civilization:  a  change 
in  the  ruling  class  is  accompanied  by  a  change  in  the  deities 
of  the  community,  and  also  by  a  change  in  the  behavior  ot 
the  community.  Evidently  one  change  caused  the  others. 
This  raises  one  of  the  ultimate  problems  of  social  psychology, 
that  of  the  interrelationship  of  institution  and  behavior  in 
society.  As  the  general  argument  proceeds,  it  will  repeatedly 
be  seen  how  close  is  this  interrelationship.  Once  it  is  realized, 
it  is  obvious  that  the  ultimate  problem  of  all  is  that  of  ex- 
plaining, in  psychological  terms,  the  process  of  all  that  is 
now  being  described  in  historical  terms.  Such  a  problem 
must  be  left  on  one  side  until  the  historical  process  is  itself 
clear  enough  to  make  it  possible  to  attempt  its  solution. 

The  aboriginal  inhabitants  of  the  region  were  peaceful 
food-gatherers  with  no  social  organization,  wandering  about 
in  family  groups.  Then  there  came  into  existence  at  various 
points,  India,  Cambodia,  Indonesia,  the  Carolines,  Poly- 
nesia, Mexico  and  elsewhere,  an  advanced  civilization  based 
on  irrigation,  located  near  sources  of  wealth  of  various  sorts, 
and  characterized  by  stone-working  and  other  arts  and 
crafts.  Some  of  these  early  settlements  were  obviously  only 
there  for  the  purpose  of  mining,  and  no  attempt  was  made 
to  colonize  the  country.  But,  in  others,  great  cities  sprang 
up,  that  must  have  numbered  their  populations  by  tens  of 
thousands.  These  early  civilizations  were  ruled  over  by 
divine  kings,  usually  claiming  descent  from  the  sun.  This 
archaic  civilization  gave  rise  to  others,  less  advanced  in  the 
arts  and  crafts,  but  more  warlike,  with  war-gods,  which  ulti- 
mately destroyed  it.  The  rulers  of  these  later  communities 
were  not  divine  beings. 

The  next  task  is  that  of  determining  what  other  circum- 
stances attended  this  remarkable  transformation.  The 
archaic  civilization  contained  some  element  destined  to 
destroy  it,  in  spite  of  its  achievements  in  all  parts  of  the 
world;  it  was  rotten  somewhere.  This  archaic  civilization 
has  exercised  a  tremendous  influence  upon  all  that  followed; 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  329 

even  that  of  Western  Europe  is  deeply  rooted  in  it.  Maybe 
that  some  of  the  problems  that  face  us  at  the  present  day 
will  find  their  solution  in  the  determination  of  the  reasons 
that  brought  to  ruins  this  civilization  that  was  so  rich  in 
material  culture. 

NOTES 

1  Langdon,  i,  p.  31. 

2  Barton,  p.  221;  Jastrow. 

3  Ibid.,  p.  224  e.s. 

4  By  "Aryans"  is  meant  "peoples  speaking  Aryan  languages."  Similarly 
»vith  "Dravidians"  and  "Austronesians." 

5  Barnett,  p.  22. 

*lbid.,  p.  1 8;  Barth,  p.  18. 

7  Hose  and  MiDougall,  ii,  p.  5. 

8  Ibid.,  ii,  pp.  6-7. 

9  Ibid.,  ii,  p.  5.  Toh  Bulu  means  "feather-spirit"  or  "spirit  of  feathers1* 
(»i,  p.  18). 

10  Ibid.,  ii,  p.  10. 

11  Ibid.,  ii,  p.  137. 
12 /&</.,  ii,  p.  138. 
19  IM..  h,  p.  85. 

1 1  Ibid.,  ii,  p.  85. 
ir'Hahl,  i. 

|(t  Christian,  iv,  p.  84. 
1  r  Rivers,  x,  xn. 
lsBcst,  x. 

1  n  Formandcr  mentions  a  former  sun-cult  in  Tupai  of  the  Society  Group 
(44.  n.  2). 

->0  Pratt,  ii,  p.  25. 

21  Ibid.,  ii,  pp.  294-5.  Lc  Fanonga  and  his  brothers  went  to  Upolu  and 
became  presiding  deities  (Stair,  n,  p.  49). 

22  From  the  time  of  disappearance  of  the  Tagaloa  family,  Samoan  chiefs 
are  called  Tui,  a  title  similar  to  that  found  in  Fiji  and  Tonga.  These  Tui 
chiefs  are  really  war  chiefs,  for  they  take  no  part  in  the  administration  of 
the  state. 

28  Gill,  i,  p.  14. 
24  Ibid.,  ii,  p.  635. 
28  Ibid.,  iv,  pp.  xo-n. 

26  In  Mangaia  a  king,  Tiaio,  became  a  war-god.  The  Mautara,  a  priestly 
tribe,  gave  up  their  ancient  divinity,  Tane,  in  favor  of  this  new  god.  The 
greatness  of  Tiaio  marks   the  political  supremacy  of  that  warlike  clan, 
which  is  of  recent  origin  (Gill,  i,  p.  30). 

27  Btst,  vi,  p.  456;  xi,  p.  128. 

28  Gushing,  ii,  pp.  342-3* 
29 /&//.,  pp.  379,  381-2. 

80  lbid.t  pp.  382-3. 

81  lbid.t  ii,  p.  390, 


THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

bid.,  pp.  397-8. 

bid.,  pp.  4I7'9- 
**lbid.,  ii,  pp.  422-3. 
"/#</.,  p.  426. 

w  Fletcher  and  La  Flesche,  pp.  I95»  *99»  200,  382. 
87  J.  O.  Dorsey,  ii,  p.  43<>  *•*• 
**lbid.t  pp.  506,  507. 
89  Perry,  vi. 

40  Breasted,  iii,  pp.  i93»  3J9- 
^Ibid.,  iii,  pp.  19.  82. 
42  Barton,  p.  221. 
48  Haddon,  ii,  pp.  3°-2. 
44  Bakkcrs,  iv,  p.  80. 
48  Hahl,  i. 

46  Sehgman,  i,  p.  308. 

47  Howitt,  p.  493.  .  t. 

48  Cf.  F.  Kramer,  i,  p.  394,  who  says  that  doubtless  in  the  earliest  tima 
peace  reigned  over  Fiji,  Samoa  and  Tonga  and  Western  Polynesia  in  gen- 
rral.  The  quotation  from  Mr.  Hocart  is  from  a  letter. 

49  Mariner,  p.  67. 

50  Deane,  p.  229. 

51  Ella,  iii,  p.  155. 
82  P.  Smith,  v. 

53  Beckwith,  p.  303. 

54  Turner,  p.  268. 

85  P.  Smith,  i,  p.  96. 

86  Gill,  i,  p.  130. 
wibtd.,  p.  288. 

58  Gudgeon,  p.  209. 
8»  Weule.  p.  333- 
60  Shand,  p.  76  e.s. 
81  Joyce,  ii,  pp.  364-5. 

62  Morley,  ii,  pp.  443'4« 

63  Joyce,  ii,  p.  205. 
64Spence,  p.  155. 
65  Bandelier,  p.  98. 

88  Hand-Book:  Art,  Military  Organization. 

67  Schoolcraft,  v,  p.  203. 

88  Tylor,  ii,  p.  308. 

«»Barbeau,  i,  p.  289;  see  Chapter  13  for  sky-world. 

^o  Grinnell,  pp.  3°3»  3<>6. 

d.,  p.  224;  Wisslcr,  iii,  pp.  335»  337« 


LAW  AND  ANTHROPOLOGY  * 

By  HUNT1NGTON  CAIRNS 

IT  is  the  object  of  this  essay  to  examine  the  relationship 
between  anthropology  and  law  and  to  show  the  importance 
of  this  relationship.  Within  the  past  few  years  there  has 
been  in  the  social  sciences  a  marked  trend  towards  synthesis, 
and  the  idea  of  the  social  philosophers  of  the  latter  part 
of  the  nineteenth  century  that  the  social  studies  were  divided 
by  firm  boundaries  is  regarded  now  as  untrue.  Formerly,  and 
to  a  considerable  extent  to-day,  the  efforts  of  social  scientists 
have  been  directed  towards  the  discovery  of  a  method  of 
investigation  whose  employment  in  the  field  of  the  social 
sciences  would  lead  to  advances,  such  as  have  followed  the 
use  of  the  inductive  method  in  the  field  of  the  natural 
sciences.  Attempts  so  far  to  apply  the  inductive  method  to 
research  in  the  social  sciences  have  not  been  marked  by  suc- 
cess; in  addition,  the  question  of  the  employment  of  the 
inductive  method  has  been  complicated  by  the  fact  that  in- 
vestigators working  in  the  field  of  the  natural  sciences  havf 
awakened  to  the  validity  of  Hume's  criticism  of  this  method 
of  research.1  Thus,  Mr.  Bertrand  Russell  has  recently 
declared  that  the  inductive  method  "is  as  indefensible  in- 
tellectually as  the  purely  deductive  method  of  the  Middle 
Ages."  2  This  raises  the  problem,  the  solution  of  which  is 
far  from  settled,  of  whether  the  inductive  method  should 
continue  to  be  employed  even  in  the  natural  sciences.  Thus 
the  social  scientists  in  facing  the  problem  of  method  have 
been  confronted  with  a  task  of  the  greatest  complexity;  no 
Bacon,  nor  even  an  Aristotle,  has  yet  appeared  to  contribute 

*  This  article  was  first  published  with  some  minor  changes  in  the 
Columbia  Law  Review,  January,  1931.  Thanks  are  due  to  the  Board  of 
Editors  of  thie  journal  for  their  courteous  permission  to  reprint. 


32  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

his  energy  and  vision  to  the  solution  of  this  problem.  No 
method  comparable  to  either  the  deductive  or  the  inductive 
method  has  been  developed  for  research  in  this  field.  A 
resulting  stagnation  of  the  social  sciences  has  been  averted 
by  the  realization  at  this  stage  of  the  need  for  coordination 
and  synthesis  of  the  data  they  have  to  offer;  for  not  only 
have  the  natural  sciences,  as  they  have  extended  their  fron- 
tiers, been  found  to  overlap  one  another's  territory,  but  the 
social  sciences  also  have  been  found  to  be  closely  related 
and  interdependent. 

Attempts  at  synthesis  in  the  past  have  revealed  that  it  is 
an  approach  which  must  be  handled  with  the  utmost  cau- 
tion. Too  often  it  leads  to  facile  generalizations  which  have 
no  scientific  validity  and  to  analogies  which  retard  rather 
than  advance  the  development  of  thought.  Biology,  for 
example,  has  been  levied  upon  by  political  scientists  for  nu- 
merous analogies  and  concepts,  and  the  foremost  generaliza- 
tion born  of  the  synthesis  of  these  departments  was  the  idea 
that  the  state  was  an  organism.  In  the  hands  of  Spencer  this 
metaphor  received  its  most  complete  expression  and  the 
analogies  he  drew,  such  as  that  of  nerves  paralleling  arteries 
as  telegraph  wires  parallel  railroad  tracks,  were  numerous 
and  bizarre.3  Nevertheless,  for  all  the  thought  which  has  been 
lavished  upon  it,  the  metaphor  has  contributed  nothing  to 
our  knowledge  of  the  nature  of  the  state  but  has  instead  led 
thinkers  to  false  conceptions  which  have  vitiated  large  por- 
tions of  their  work.  Social  scientists  are  apt  to  find  in  related 
fields  resemblances  which  interpret  without  clarifying,  and 
methods  which  work  swiftly  but  only  as  a  substitute  for 
thought.  Thus  psychoanalysis,  the  most  valuable  instrument 
of  psychological  research  yet  devised,  in  the  hands  of  skillful 
biographers  and  historians  has  revealed  new  depths  of  per- 
sonality in  such  difficult  figures,  for  instance,  as  Luther  and 
Leonardo  da  Vinci,4  but  its  uncritical  use  by  psychologists 
and  sociologists  has  produced  sonorous  and  flexible  explana- 
tions of  social  phenomena  which,  if  examined,  are  meaning- 
Jess-  When  there  are  discoveries  in  one  field  of  science  an 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  333 

effort  is  at  once  made  to  apply  these  discoveries  to  other 
fields  without  inquiring  in  what  manner  the  application 
will  lead  to  fruitful  ends  or  wherein  lies  their  real  ap- 
plicability. Evolution  after  1859  became  the  shibboleth  by 
which  practically  all  problems  were  resolved;  to-day  it  is 
the  concepts  of  the  new  physics  which,  although  of  the 
greatest  importance  to  scientists  in  every  field,  are  likewise 
the  subject,  of  much  unsound  thinking.  Subjects,  however, 
such  as  sociology  and  history,  anthropology  and  religion, 
political  science  and  law  so  often  meet  on  common  ground 
that  their  synthesis  along  certain  lines  is  natural  and 
valuable. 

Cultural  anthropology  was  born  in  the  latter  half  of  the 
nineteenth  century  and  to  a  few  jurists  of  that  time  it  was 
at  once  clear  that  a  profitable  field  of  research  for  the  law 
had  been  opened.  Sir  Henry  Maine  in  England,5  and  A.  H. 
Post0  and  Josef  Kohler7  in  Germany  were  the  leaders  in 
explorations  into  this  new  territory.  Post  and  Kohler  in  par- 
ticular were  indefatigable  workers  in  the  field  of  anthro- 
pology and  even  to-day  such  essays  as  Kohler's  Zur 
Urgeschichte  dcr  E/ie 8  possess  considerable  anthropological 
importance.  Maine,  it  must  be  remembered,  published  his 
Ancient  Law  in  1861  when  there  were  only  a  few  anthropo- 
logical works  in  print  which  could  be  of  assistance  to  him, 
and  he  seems  at  that  time  to  have  been  unaware  even  of 
such  works  as  Morgan's  League  of  the  Ho-de-no-san-nee? 
It  is  thus  greatly  to  his  credit  that  he  should  have  turned  for 
light  upon  juridical  problems  to  early  systems  of  law  before 
the  fever  for  anthropological  research  had  really  set  in.  But 
after  the  movement  was  under  way  he  did  not  keep  pace 
with  it;  the  torch  passed  into  the  hands  of  Post  and  Kohler 
and  the  other  writers  whose  chief  medium  of  expression  was 
the  Zeitschrift  fur  vergkkhende  Rcchtswisscnschajt.  More- 
over, J.  F.  McLennan,10  a  Scottish  lawyer  and  a  keen  student 
of  anthropology,  soon  placed  his  finger  on  Maine's  weakest 
poirit — ia  view  of  our  present  knowledge — his  patriarchal 
theory.  Nor  were  Post  and  Kohler  exempt  from  mistake^ 


334  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

which  arose  chiefly  from  the  dearth  of  anthropological 
knowledge  at  that  time.  But  what  is  more  important  than 
the  errors  of  these  early  workers  is  the  fact  that  the  field 
of  inquiry  which  they  uncovered  soon  ceased  to  attract  the 
attention  of  either  jurists  or  anthropologists.11 

For  more  than  a  quarter  of  a  century  research  in  anthropo- 
logical jurisprudence,  save  for  a  few  scattered  and  unrelated 
inquiries,  has  been  at  a  standstill.  To-day  a  recrudescence  of 
interest  in  this  field  for  the  sociologist  and  the  anthropologist 
— if  not  for  the  lawyer — appears  to  be  taking  place.12  In  a 
slim  but  admirable  volume,  Malinowski 13  has  indicated 
the  importance  of  primitive  law  for  the  anthropologist,  and 
Lowie  has  similarly  attempted  in  two  brilliant  papers 14  to 
attract  the  attention  of  the  lawyer.  Primitive  law  ceased  to 
interest  anthropologists,  Malinowski  has  pointed  out,  because 
they  had  an  exaggerated  idea  of  its  perfection;  it  also  ceased 
to  attract  attention  because — and  mistakenly,  as  Malinowski 
has  likewise  shown — it  was  apparently  easily  explained.15 
Recent  legal  thinkers  have  neglected  the  study  of  the  rela- 
tionship of  law  and  anthropology  because  in  the  hands  of 
their  nineteenth  century  predecessors  it  led  to  sterile  con- 
ceptions and  a  false  philosophy  of  law;  the  study  has  also 
been  neglected  because  of  the  constant  disinclination  of 
jurists  to  seek  help  in  adjoining  fields.  Law  has  been  re- 
garded as  a  subject  which  contains  within  itself  the  seeds 
of  its  own  growth;  but  with  the  movement  towards  syn- 
thesis and  the  development  of  a  functional  attitude  in  juris- 
prudence and  in  anthropology  it  may  well  be  that  these 
departments  by  again  combining  will  contribute  to  each 
other's  advancement. 

To-day  in  both  jurisprudence  and  anthropology  there  has 
developed  what  is  termed  the  functional  attitude.  This  atti- 
tude, for  jurisprudence  at  any  rate,  is  closely  related  in  con- 
temporary thought  to  the  instrumentalist  or  pragmatist 
movement.  In  jurisprudence  it  means  simply  that  the  jurist 
takes  account,  in  Pound's  phrase,  of  law  in  action  as  well  as 
of  law  in  books.  No  longer  does  the  jurist  regard  law  solely 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  333 

as  a  self-contained  system  of  thought,  comparable  to  mathe* 
matics  or  logic,  which  can  be  developed  on  paper  from  a 
few  premises  to  meet  all  exigencies,  as  Whitehead  and  Rus- 
sell in  Principia  Mathematica1*  developed  symbolic  logic. 
In  the  past  the  jurist  has  been  content  to  frame  his  rules  and 
test  them  by  abstract  principles  of  justice  without  concerning 
himself  with  the  test  of  their  applicability.  Frequently  the 
rules  were  unenforceable,  absurd,  and  in  practice  unjust. 
From  the  functional  point  of  view  the  attempt  to  frame  legal 
precepts  with  respect  to  social  interests  and  needs  is  more 
important  than  their  logical  or  historical  coherence  on  paper. 
The  functional  movement  has  given  great  vitality  to  legal 
thinking  and  has  raised  law  to  the  status  of  social  science.17 
In  anthropology,  Malinowski,  who  is  responsible  for  the 
label  "functional"  in  this  field,  has  best  stated  the  aims  and 
principles  of  the  functional  method:  "This  type  of  theory," 
he  writes,  "aims  at  the  explanation  of  anthropological  facts 
at  all  levels  of  development  by  their  function,  by  the  part 
which  they  play  within  the  integral  part  of  culture,  by  the 
manner  in  which  they  are  related  to  each  other  within  the 
system,  and  by  the  way  in  which  this  system  is  related  to 
the  physical  surroundings.  It  aims  at  the  understanding  of 
the  nature  of  culture,  rather  than  at  conjectural  reconstruc- 
tions of  its  evolution  or  of  past  historical  events." 18  Culture 
from  the  functional  standpoint  is  regarded  not  only  as 
dynamic  but  as  an  organic  whole.  Modern  anthropology  en- 
deavors to  study  exogamy,  totemism  and  other  manifestations 
of  primitive  culture  not  solely  with  regard  to  the  narrow 
field  which  these  phases  occupy  but  also  to  study  them  in 
relation  to  the  entire  field  of  social  organization.  Primitive 
culture  is  studied  in  action,  and  preconceived  assumptions 
and  paper  schemes  are  banished.  To-day  law  and  anthro- 
pology are  in  their  program  one. 

In  marking  out  the  boundaries  of  a  new  subject  we  arc 
at  once  perplexed  by  the  multitude  of  problems  which  im- 
mediately  arise.  So  many  questions  press  for  an  answer,  so 
many  lines  of  inquiry  appear  fruitful,  that  the  risk  of  wan- 


33^  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

dering  is  great.  This  risk  is  no  less  real  even  when  we  are 
dealing  with  a  subject,  such  as  the  relationship  of  law  and 
anthropology,  whose  development  must  proceed  along  re- 
stricted lines.  Anthropology,  for  all  the  achievements  to  its 
credit,  has  in  the  hierarchy  of  thought  only  recently  cast  aside 
its  swaddling  clothes  and  at  present  it  is  impossible  to  dis- 
cern its  ultimate  contribution.  The  simplest  criterion  by 
which  to  mark  the  present  limits  of  the  subject  appears  to  be: 
What  discoveries  and  conclusions  of  the  anthropologist  are 
of  value  to  the  jurist?  With  the  assistance  of  this  criterion 
three  lines  of  contact  suggest  themselves: 

(a)  The  nature  of  law; 

(b)  Legal  history  and  anthropology; 

(c)  Law  and  anthropology  in  action. 

In  attempting  to  arrive  at  an  understanding  of  the  nature 
of  law  we  may  first  consider  what  is  meant  by  the  term 
"law"  and  whether  "law"  exists  in  primitive  cultures  in  the 
-sense  that  it  is  supposed  to  exist  in  advanced  cultures.  Jurists 
from  the  Ancient  Greeks  to  the  present  day  have  found  it 
a  notoriously  difficult  task  to  define  the  term  "law"  and  there 
exists  no  definition  which  is  satisfactory  to  all  inquirers.  Con- 
ceptions of  the  nature  of  the  state  have  determined  the  view 
jurists  have  taken  of  law  and  as  these  conceptions  have 
changed  from  time  to  time  the  definitions  have  been  modi- 
fied to  meet  current  theories.  It  is  the  sociological  theory 
of  the  nature  of  the  state,  advanced  by  Small,10  Maclver,20 
Oppenheimer 21  and  others,  which  is  to-day  one  of  the  cor- 
ner stones  of  modern  political  theory.  No  longer  is  political 
science  under  bondage  to  the  lawyers,  as  Beard 22  once  com- 
plained, and  definitions  of  law  in  terms  of  supreme  authority 
have  been  abandoned.  The  state,  from  the  sociological  stand- 
point, is  viewed  as  a  specific  association,  a  product  of  social 
growth  and  "perhaps  the  most  important  of  several  funda- 
mental types  of  organs  or  agencies  utilized  by  society  to 
insure  that  collective  life  shall  be  more  safe,  efficient  and 
progressive." 28  Judge  Cardozo,  in  accord  with  general  so- 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  337* 

ciological  thought,  has  advanced  what  may  be  termed  a 
sociological,  or  functional,  definition  of  law.  "A  principle 
or  rule  of  conduct  so  established  as  to  justify  a  prediction 
with  reasonable  certainty  that  it  will  be  enforced  by  the 
courts  if  its  authority  is  challenged,  is,"  he  holds,  "a  principle 
or  rule  of  law." 24  This  statement  is,  of  course,  not  strictly 
a  definition  of  law.  But  it  suggests  a  real  criterion,  as  will 
presently  be  seen,  by  which  to  recognize  law  in  advanced 
cultures. 

It  can  be  laid  down,  as  a  beginning,  that  principles  or  rules 
of  conduct  obtain  in  both  primitive  and  advanced  cultures. 
In  all  cultures  we  are  confronted  with  the  task  of  dis- 
tinguishing rules  of  law  from  other  rules  of  conduct,  such 
as,  for  example,  the  rules  of  conduct  regulating  the  behavior 
of  communicants  of  the  Roman  Catholic  Church  or  the 
rule  that  a  man  shall  pay  a  debt  incurred  at  cards.  By  Car- 
dozo's  criterion  we  are  able  to  distinguish  rules  of  law  from 
other  rules  of  conduct:  rules  of  law  are  those  rules  of  conduct 
which  we  are  able  to  predict  will  be  enforced  by  the  courts. 
All  other  rules  of  conduct  in  legal  theory  are  simply  rules 
of  conduct  and  nothing  more.  It  is  thus  apparent  that  the 
essential  element  of  the  criterion  is  the  element  represented 
by  the  idea  of  "a  court."  Without  this  element  Cardozo's 
criterion  would  be  of  no  value,  as  it  would  not  enable  us  to 
distinguish  law  from  other  rules  of  conduct.  There  is  im- 
plied in  this  definition,  it  is  necessary  to  add,  the  concept  of 
the  state,  or,  by  its  criterion,  the  decrees  of  the  Rota  would 
be  law.  Within  the  closed  system  of  the  Catholic  hierarchy 
the  decrees  of  the  Rota  may  well  be  law;  but  they  are  not  law 
in  the  sense  we  are  considering  it  and  it  is  the  addition  of 
the  element  of  the  state  as  the  authority  creating  courts  which 
excludes  them.  For  advanced  cultures  Cardozo's  definition 
is  sufficient:  we  are  able,  by  the  criterion  it  postulates,  to  dis- 
tinguish law  from  other  rules  of  conduct. 

When  we  attempt  to  apply  this  definition  in  certain  primi* 
tive  communities  we  discover  that  it  will  not  work.  In  many 
primitive  communities  throughout  the  world  we  find  no 


338  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

courts  and  no  agencies  for  the  administration  of  justice  in 
any  way  comparable  to  courts.  Justice  in  a  case  of  violation  of 
criminal  rules  of  conduct  is  a  private  matter;  redress  is 
obtained  by  the  individual  affected,  either  unaided  or  with 
the  assistance  of  his  friends  or  kinsmen.  Punishment  may 
take  form  similar  to  the  injury,  or  the  offender  may  be  killed 
or  beaten,  or  the  crime  may  be  absolved  by  the  payment  of 
a  fine.25  This  form  of  administration  of  justice  is  so  wide- 
spread that  two  examples  will  suffice.  Among  the  natives  of 
Eddystone  Island  strict  monogamy  prevails  and  lapses  on 
the  part  of  the  man,  contrary  to  the  custom  in  more  civilized 
parts  of  the  world,  are  regarded  with  an  opprobrium  equal 
to  that  with  which  lapses  on  the  part  of  the  woman  are  re- 
garded. During  a  visit  of  Rivers  to  the  Island,  a  wife  dis- 
covered that  her  husband  had  been  guilty  of  adultery.  At 
once  she  put  a  knife  into  him,  inflicting  a  severe  but  not  a 
fatal  wound.  This  procedure  was  regarded  as  orthodox  and 
natural.26  Again,  the  penalty  for  incest  among  these  natives 
is  death  and,  the  event  occurring,  any  machinery  for  the 
determination  of  guilt  or  punishment  is  held  to  be  unneces- 
sary. As  soon  as  the  crime  is  discovered  the  punishment  fol- 
lows automatically  and  the  kinsmen  of  the  offender  take  the 
leading  part  in  its  infliction.27  In  the  field  of  primitive  civil 
law,  which  Malinowski  has  been  the  first  to  discuss  ade- 
quately, we  also  find  Cardozo's  definition  to  be  of  little 
assistance.28  There  exists  in  the  Melanesian  community  in- 
habiting the  Trobriand  Archipelago  a  system  of  exchange 
whereby  the  villagers  on  the  edge  of  the  lagoon  barter  their 
catches  of  fish  for  vegetables  from  inland  communities.  This 
system,  primarily  economic,  is  conducted  with  great  cere- 
mony. In  addition,  as  Malinowski  has  been  able  to  show,  a 
definite  legal  element  enters  into  the  arrangement.  Fisher- 
men must  promptly  and  in  full  repay  inland  traders  for  the 
vegetables  they  receive,  and  so  must  the  traders  pay  the 
fishermen.  The  dependence  of  the  two  communities  upon 
each  other  for  the  exchange  of  food  gives  to  each  the  weapon 
£or  the  enforcement  of  the  contract— reciprocity;  although, 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  339 

as  in  civilized  communities,  the  natives  attempt,  when  there 
is  no  danger  of  loss  of  prestige,  to  evade  their  obligations. 
This  system  of  mutualities,  illustrated  by  the  exchange  of 
fish  for  vegetables,  is  an  integral  part  of  the  Melanesian  social 
organization.  But  it  is  the  ceremonial  manner  in  which  cer- 
tain of  these  transactions  are  carried  out,  and  the  feeling 
that  the  rules  of  conduct  regulating  the  transactions  arc. 
binding,  that  differentiate  law  in  Melanesia  from  the  re- 
maining body  of  custom.  Malinowski,  upon  these  facts,  has 
framed  an  anthropological  definition  of  law:  "Civil  law,  the 
positive  law  governing  all  the  phases  of  tribal  life,  consists 
...  of  a  body  of  binding  obligations,  regarded  as  a  right 
by  one  party  and  acknowledged  as  a  duty  by  the  other,  kept 
in  force  by  a  specific  mechanism  of  a  reciprocity  and  pub- 
licity inherent  in  the  structure  of  their  society."  29 

Dr.  Malinowski's  definition,  if  applied  to  Melanesian  rules 
of  conduct,  distinguishes  "legal"  rules  of  conduct  from 
"non-legal"  rules  of  conduct.  But  it  is  at  once  apparent  that 
if  the  definition  is  applied  in  advanced  cultures  it  fails  to 
accomplish  this  purpose.  Are  we  then  to  conclude  that 
"law"  in  advanced  cultures  is  something  different  from 
"law"  in  primitive  cultures,  since  neither  Cardozo's  nor 
Malinowski's  definition,  both  admirably  satisfactory  from 
the  point  of  view  of  the  cultures  for  which  they  were  framed, 
is  applicable  to  other  and  opposed  civilizations?  Assuming 
that  Melanesian  rules  of  conduct  may  be  divided  into  two 
classes,  and  that  Dr.  Malinowski  is  justified  from  the 
Melanesian  point  of  view  (and  it  appears  that  he  is)  in 
terming  one  of  those  classes  "law,"  then  common  sense  sug- 
gests that  as  "law"  in  primitive  communities  apparently  ful- 
fills the  same  social  needs  that  "law"  fulfills  in  advanced 
cultures,  the  "law"  of  both  cultures,  from  a  societal  stand- 
point, is  functionally  identical.  But  from  the  point  of  view 
of  definition  this  conclusion  does  not  follow.  Logically,  the 
element  of  "the  courts"  in  Cardozo's  definition  indicates  a 
real  and  not  a  verbal  distinction;  he  has,  to  employ  OgHen 
and  Richards'  conception,  indicated  a  distinguishing  attri- 


340  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

bute  and  has  not  proposed  a  symbol  substitution.30  If  we 
substitute  the  "state"  for  the  criterion  the  "court"  our  diffi- 
culty is  not  overcome  although  the  definition  is  broadened 
without  any  corresponding  loss  of  definiteness.  For  anthro- 
pologists and  political  scientists  are  by  no  means  agreed  as 
to  the  omnipresence  of  the  state  in  society.  Maclver,  who  as 
a  political  scientist  is  far  removed  from  the  strictly  legal 
approach  characteristic  of  the  work  of,  say,  W.  W.  Wil- 
loughby,31  denies  emphatically  and  with  great  cogency  that 
the  state  exists  in  very  rude  cultures.32  Lowie,  with  equal 
perspicacity,  maintains  a  contrary  position.33  Unfortunately 
Lowie  nowhere  in  his  study  defines  exactly  what  he  means 
by  the  state;  but  by  implication  it  is  apparent  that  he  has 
in  mind  in  discussing  the  state  in  advanced  cultures  a 
conception  which  would  be  correctly  stated  in  the  follow- 
ing definition  of  Maclver's:  "The  state  is  an  association 
which,  acting  through  law  as  promulgated  by  a  govern- 
ment endowed  to  this  end  with  coercive  power,  maintains 
within  a  community  territorially  demarcated  the  universal 
external  conditions  of  social  order." 34  This  state,  Lowie 
is  quite  prepared  to  demonstrate,  has  no  existence  in  many 
primitive  communities.  What  he  does  seek  to  prove  is  "that 
the  germs  of  all  possible  political  development  are  latent  but 
demonstrable  in  the  ruder  cultures"  and  that  a  state  of  some 
type  is  everywhere  a  feature  of  human  society. 

The  temptation  to  solve  this  perplexing  problem  upon 
the  basis  of  some  alluring  hypothesis  is  almost  irresistible. 
But  the  history  of  social  theory  is  too  largely  a  record  of 
generalizations  wrung  from  insufficient  facts  for  us  to-day 
to  make  similar  errors.  Anthropology  has  warned  the  jurist 
that  his  conception  of  law  is  perhaps  egocentric  but  it  has 
shown  him  that  with  its  aid  he  may  be  able  to  work  out 
a  conception  of  law  that  will  be  adequate  for  all  social 
requirements.  Two  obstacles  stand  at  present  in  the  way  of 
the  realization  of  this  task :  there  is,  first,  a  paucity  of  known 
facts  concerning  the  simpler  Cultures  and  a  lack  of  agree- 
ment among  anthropologists  with  respect  to  the  interpreta^ 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  34) 

tion  of  such  material  as  does  exist;  this  is  an  obstacle  which, 
as  anthropological  methods  are  refined,  will  disappear. 
There  prevails,  secondly,  confusion  with  respect  to  the  in- 
strument— linguistics —with  which  the  anthropologist,  the 
jurist  or  the  social  scientist  must  pursue  his  investigations 
and  through  whose  medium  he  must  state  his  conclusions. 
Superficially,  linguistics  presents  no  difficulties;  the  anthro- 
pologist is  able  to  describe  what  he  sees  in  a  primitive  com- 
munity in  words  that  convey  meaning,  and  the  judge  on  the 
bench  is  able  to  sentence  a  housebreaker  to  jail  without  in- 
quiring in  any  ultimate  sense,  except  from  the  house- 
breaker's standpoint,  whether  he  is  following  a  rule  of  law. 
But  once  the  social  scientist  passes  from  these  simple  aspects 
to  the  realm  of  theory,  linguistics  becomes  a  problem  and 
it  is  in  his  struggle  with  this  problem  that  he  is  most  envious 
of  the  symbolism  of  the  mathematician.  Euclid  may  assume 
that  through  a  point  in  a  plane  it  is  always  possible  to  trace 
one  and  only  one  straight  line  parallel  to  a  given  straight 
line  lying  in  the  plane.  Lobatchewski  may  deny  this  and 
assume  that  an  indefinite  number  of  non-intersecting  straight 
lines  can  be  drawn;  and  Riemann  may  deny  both  assump- 
tions and  assume  that  none  can  be  drawn.35  From  these 
assumptions  three  geometries  can  be  developed  and  the 
conclusions  of  all  three  are  true  within  themselves  although 
in  conflict  with  one  another.  It  is  not  possible  to  deny,  for 
example,  admitting  the  primary  postulates,  that;  in  Euclid's 
geometry  the  sum  of  angles  of  any  triangle  is  always  equal 
to  two  right  angles  and  that  in  Lobatchewski's  and  Rie- 
mann's  geometries  the  value  of  this  sum  varies  with  the 
size  of  the  triangles.  Linguistics,  which  occupies  in  the  social 
sciences  a  position  analogous  to  mathematical  symbolization 
in  mathematics,  is  not  remotely  comparable  in  definiteness 
and  utility  to  mathematical  symbolization.  Aristotle's  postu- 
late that  man  is  a  social  animal  is  the  oldest  postulate  known 
to  the  social  sciences,  but  there  is  not  one  word  in  it  upon 
the  meaning  of  which  social  scientists  can  universally  agree. 
It  is  this  basic  difficulty  and  nothing  else  which  led  F.  H, 


34^  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

Bradley,  perhaps  the  greatest  of  English  philosophers,  to 
remark,  "on  all  questions,  if  you  push  me  far  enough,  at 
present  I  end  in  doubts  and  perplexities." 86  Anthropology 
as  k  advances  may  throw  light  upon  certain  basic  jural 
concepts,  such  as  the  nature  of  law,  and  by  enlarging  these 
concepts  ana  giving  to  them  a  universal  social  significance  it 
may  also  clarify  the  nature  of  some  of  the  linguistic  diffi- 
culties which  at  present  are  a  barrier  to  any  real  advance- 
ment in  the  realm  of  theory. 

When  we  pass  to  the  question  of  the  bearing  of  anthropo- 
logical investigations  upon  certain  aspects  of  legal  history 
we  see  at  once  that  in  this  field  a  connection  between  law 
and  anthropology  exists.  Maitland  long  ago  in  a  penetrating 
essay  pointed  out  "that  by  and  by  anthropology  will  have 
the  choice  between  being  history  and  being  nothing."" 
Prehistory,  in  its  investigation  of  many  manifestations  of 
human  culture,  has  accomplished  much  toward  bridging  the 
chasm  between  anthropology  and  history  but  in  the  field  of 
social  organization  this  chasm  still  exists.  The  origins  of 
customs  and  institutions  are  irretrievably  lost,  even  beyond 
the  possibility  of  discovery  by  the  prehistorian.  We  may 
know  that  Neolithic  man  domesticated  sheep,  cultivated 
various  farinaceous  crops  and  wore  clothing  made  from  the 
skin  of  animals,  but  it  is  extremely  unlikely  that  we  will 
ever  be  able  to  ascertain,  except  in  the  most  fragmentary 
fashion — and  from  the  standpoint  of  theory,  valueless — the 
nature  of  Neolithic  social  organization.  But  anthropology 
can  exhibit  to  us,  in  studies  of  ruder  cultures,  other  forms 
of  the  customs  and  institutions  which  constitute  the  social 
organization  of  our  particular  civilization.  When  the  facts 
of  primitive  social  organization  have  been  collected  and 
compared  on  a  more  extensive  scale  than  that  with  which 
the  anthropologist  at  present  works  it  may  be  possible  to 
construct  a  scheme  of  social  evolution  which  will  be,  if  not 
history,  at  least  the  best  available  substitute  for  history.  If 
to-day  we  are  not  warranted  even  in  saying  that  the  primi- 
tive customs  and  institutions  which  research  discloses  may 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  343 

be  the  early  forms  of  Western  customs  and  institutions  we 
can  at  least  recognize  the  value  of  the  study  of  social  mani- 
festations in  early  societies  similar  to  those  which  exist  in 
advanced  cultures.  Upon  at  least  two  of  the  main  problems 
of  legal  history— property  and  the  family— research  in  primi- 
tive societies  may  ultimately  shed  considerable  light.  It  will 
be  unnecessary  here  to  indicate  in  detail  the  findings  of 
anthropologists  with  respect  to  these  two  phases  of  social 
life.  Lowie,88  Goldenweiser,39  Rivers,40  Malinowski,41  Brif- 
fault42  and  others  have  summarized  all  that  is  at  present 
known  about  these  particular  manifestations  of  culture.  It 
will  be  sufficient  for  the  purposes  of  this  essay  to  point  out 
the  bearing  upon  law  and  legal  history  of  the  result  of  some 
investigations  into  the  primitive  nature  of  property  and  the 
family. 

When  we  try  to  understand  the  basic  ideas  underlying 
property  and  the  family  we  find  that  no  other  subject  can 
compete  with  anthropology  as  an  aid  to  their  clarification. 
The  wealth  and  variety  of  forms  anthropology  exhibits  com- 
pel us  to  define  our  concepts,  if  they  are  to  possess  validity, 
from  the  standpoint  of  all  cultures.  Either  the  definition  must 
work  in  every  community  or  it  is  insufficient.  To  base  the 
definition  of  a  concept  upon  the  necessities  and  peculiarities 
of  each  community,  and  thus  to  have  many  definitions  of 
the  same  concept,  is,  in  effect,  to  deny  the  existence  of  the 
concept.  Furthermore,  if  concepts  are  defined  from  the 
standpoint  of  all  cultures  social  inquiry  will  be  greatly  as- 
sisted in  its  efforts  towards  the  realization  of  an  adequate 
social  theory.  Holdsworth,  for  example,  states  that,  "Early 
law  does  not  trouble  itself  with  complicated  theories  as  to 
the  nature  and  meaning  of  ownership  and  possession.  .  .  . 
In  fact,  the  earliest  known  use  of  the  word  'owner'  comes 
from  the  year  1340;  the  earliest  known  use  of  the  word 
'ownership*  from  the  year  1583." 4S  But  he  then  shows  that 
"the  smallest  degree  of  civilization  will  produce  the  phenom- 
ena of  ownership  divorced  from  possession.  Owners  will 
lend  or  deposit  or  lose  their  property.  The  law  must  lay 


344  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

down  some  rules  as  to  the  rights  of  owners  on  the  one  side, 
and  as  to  the  rights  of  the  bailee  or  the  finder  on  the 
other." 44  Anthropologists  have  shown  that  some  notion  of 
property — whether  certain  forms  are  privately  or  com- 
munally owned  is  a  moot  question — is  everywhere  a  feature 
of  human  culture.  The  question  at  once  arises  how  the 
word  "ownership"  shall  be  defined.  Malinowski  insists  that 
it  is  "a  grave  error  to  use  the  word  ownership  with  the  very 
definite  connotation  given  to  it  in  our  society  .  .  .  the  term 
own  as  we  use  it  is  meaningless,  when  applied  to  a  native 
society." 45  Lowie  rightfully  points  out,  however,  that  if  we 
are  to  determine  at  what  level  of  social  development  law 
distinguishes  ownership  and  possession,  "we  cannot  coin  a 
special  word  for  every  shade  of  possessory  right  as  locally 
defined  in  the  far  quarters  of  the  globe.  It  is  far  more  im- 
portant to  define  all  such  rights  conceptually  than  to  devise 
an  infinite  series  of  labels  for  them."40  In  addition,  new 
meaning  will  be  added  to  many  legal  concepts  if  they  are 
compared  with  the  similar  concepts  held  by  the  simpler 
peoples.  Seisin,  for  example,  in  law  means  possession.  The 
transference  of  a  freehold  interest  in  land  was  accompanied 
by  livery  of  seisin,  that  is,  the  donee  was  put  "into  possession 
of  the  land,  but  the  fact  that  it  had  thus  been  given  was 
evidenced  by  handing  over  a  stick,  a  hasp,  a  ring,  a  cross, 
or  a  knife."47  This  symbolic  delivery  of  the  land,  known 
as  livery  of  seisin,  was  an  essential  part  of  the  conveyance. 
Livery  of  seisin  is  accounted  for  by  the  publicity  attendant 
upon  the  act  which  prevented  the  perpetration  of  frauds  by 
secret  conveyances.48  Etymologically  "being  seized"  is  con- 
nected with  "seizing,"  that  is,  to  grasp  at,  or  to  take; 4* 
but  Pollock  and  Maitland  are  inclined  also  to  connect  it 
\vith  "to  sit"  and  "to  set"  and  thus  it  would  seem  to  have  the 
uame  root  as  the  German  Besitz  and  the  Latin  possession 
"The  man  who  is  seized  is  the  man  who  is  sitting  on  the 
land;  when  he  was  put  in  seisin  he  was  set  there  and  made 
to  sit  there." 51  Anthropology  tends  to  support  the  view  of 
Pollock  and  Maitland  that  the  idea  of  seisin  has  more  con- 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  345 

nection  with  the  idea  of  "set"  or  "sit"  than  with  the  ety- 
mological idea  of  taking  by  violence.  Basically  property 
is  conceived  of  as  a  part  of  the  personality  or  self;  it  is  a 
relation  between  the  person  and  the  thing.  Something  that 
the  individual  has  touched  or  handled  becomes  imbued  with 
a  portion  of  his  personality.  "That  which  I  have  touched 
belongs  to  me;  I  put  hand  to  it;  it  is  mine.  The  property 
I  hold  is  the  expansion  of  my  own  person." 52  In  early  Ger- 
man law  it  was  necessary,  in  order  to  reclaim  cattle  found 
in  the  possession  of  another,  to  place  the  right  hand  above 
a  relic,  a  fetish,  and  the  left  hand  on  the  left  ear  of  the 
animal.  The  South  African  who  touched  a  drinking  cup 
thereafter  regarded  it  as  his.  The  native  of  Baffin  Bay  and 
the  Eastern  Eskimo  pass  the  tongue  over  objects  as  they 
are  acquired.63  It  is  an  easy  step  from  the  idea  that  the  thing 
possessed  is  connected  with  the  body  to  the  idea  that  it  is 
necessary  that  there  should  be  a  physical  contact  of  the 
donee  with  the  thing  transferred  before  the  transfer  is  ac- 
tually complete.  Sociologically,  this  concept  seems  to  be 
related  to  the  idea  of  seisin,  to  the  setting  of  the  donee  upon 
the  land.  A  justification  of  the  practice  is  found  in  the  pub- 
licity which  accompanies  it,  but  at  bottom  it  appears  to  be 
a  development  of  the  animistic  conception  of  the  relation 
between  the  personality  and  the  thing. 

Long  before  Spencer  had  made  fashionable  the  idea  that 
social  development  proceeded  from  "an  indefinite,  incoher- 
ent homogeneity  to  a  definite,  coherent  heterogeneity,"54 
or,  in  other  words,  from  simplicity  to  complexity,  Blackstonc 
had  attempted,  by  relying  upon  anthropological  evidence,  to 
account  for  the  rise  of  the  idea  of  private  property  upon 
the  same  principle.  Originally  mankind  derived  authority 
over  the  things  of  the  earth  from  the  Creator.55  "This," 
Blackstone  held,  "is  the  only  true  and  solid  foundation  of 
man's  dominion  over  external  things,  whatever  airy  meta- 
physical notions  may  have  been  stated  by  fanciful  writers 
upon  this  subject." 50  In  the  early  stages  of  society,  accord- 
ing to  Blackstone,  property  was  held  in  common: 


346  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

"And,  while  the  earth  continued  bare  of  inhabitants,  it  is 
reasonable  to  suppose  that  all  was  in  common  among  them,  and 
that  every  one  took  from  the  public  stock  to  his  own  use  such 
things  as  his  immediate  necessities  required. 

"These  general  notions  of  property  were  then  sufficient  to 
answer  all  the  purposes  of  human  life;  and  might  perhaps 
still  have  answered  them  had  it  been  possible  for  mankind  to 
have  remained  in  a  state  of  primeval  simplicity:  as  may  be 
collected  from  the  manners  of  many  American  nations  when 
first  discovered  by  the  Europeans;  and  from  the  ancient  method 
of  living  among  the  first  Europeans  themselves,  if  we  may  credit 
either  the  memorials  of  them  preserved  in  the  golden  age  of 
the  poets,  or  the  uniform  accounts  given  by  historians  of  those 
times."  °7 

But  the  notion  that  people  of  ruder  cultures  had  unde- 
veloped ideas  of  property  was  not  confined  to  legal  theory; 
it  was  a  hypothesis  that  was  also  advanced  by  the  earlier 
anthropologists.  Morgan,  for  example,  in  his  Ancient  Society, 
distinguished  three  levels  of  social  development:  savagery, 
barbarism  and  civilization.  Savages,  he  believed,  had  feeble 
ideas  of  property.  "The  property  of  savages  ^was  incon- 
siderable. Their  ideas  concerning  its  value,  its  desirability 
and  its  inheritance  were  feeble.  Rude  weapons,  fabrics, 
utensils,  apparel,  implements  of  flint,  stone  and  bone,  and 
personal  ornaments  represent  the  chief  items  of  property  in 
savage  life.  A  passion  for  its  possession  had  scarcely  been 
formed  in  their  minds,  because  the  thing  itself  scarcely  ex- 
isted."58 But  as  Lowie  has  shown,  even  among  the  most 
"savage"  societies  in  Morgan's  sense — the  Yamana,  the  most 
southerly  of  South  American  tribes,  and  the  Seman,  a 
negrito  people  of  the  Malay  Peninsula— personal  property  is 
extensively  held.59  Though  ownership  of  a  particular  piece 
of  property  does  not  in  all  cases  vest  the  exclusive  use  in  the 
owner,  the  line  is,  as  Lowie  shows,  clearly  drawn  between 
what  is  one's  actual  due,  and  what  is  merely  an  ethical 
claim. 

To-day  the  conception  of  primitive  communism  has  been 
abandoned  by  legal  historians  and  it  has  been  found  that 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  347 

real  progress  in  the  law  lies  in  patiently  working  backward 
towards  the  source  of  legal  rules  instead  of  beginning  with 
a  hypothesis  and  working  forward,  attempting  at  the  same 
time  to  make  each  apparent  advance  conform  with  the 
hypothesis.  Here,  again,  anthropological  evidence  aids  in 
the  undertaking,  not  only  by  assisting  in  the  clarification  of 
the  legal  rules  but  by  serving  as  a  check  on  such  generaliza- 
tions as  may  be  advanced  as  historical  work  progresses. 
Thus,  Holdsworth  regards  the  distinction  between  corporeal 
and  incorporeal  property  as  a  characteristic  of  an  advanced 
system  of  law:  "The  seignory  of  the  feudal  lord,  rents,  an- 
nuities, corodies,  franchises,  offices,  advowsons,  rights  of 
common  and  other  profits  a  prendre,  easements,  all  are  in- 
corporeal things.  What  we  must  chiefly  note  is  that  all  are 
treated  (in  medieval  law)  in  many  ways  like  corporeal 
things.  The  law  can  understand  a  corporeal  tangible  thing: 
it  has  hardly  as  yet  arrived  at  a  clear  conception  of  an  in- 
tangible right.  The  distinction  between  corporeal  and  in- 
corporeal is  not  ready  made.  It  is  the  mark  of  a  mature 
system  of  law."80  Maitland  is  even  more  positive  in  hi? 
opinion  that  the  distinction  between  corporeal  and  incor- 
poreal property  is  due  to  the  genius  of  the  law. 

"The  realm  of  medieval  law  is  rich  with  incorporeal  things. 
Any  permanent  right  which  is  of  a  transferable  nature,  at  all 
events  if  it  has  what  we  may  call  a  territorial  ambit,  is  thought 
of  as  a  thing  that  is  very  like  a  piece  of  land.  Just  because  it  is 
a  thing,  it  is  transferable.  This  is  no  fiction  invented  by  specula- 
tive jurists.  For  the  popular  mind  these  things  are  things.  The 
lawyer's  business  is  not  to  make  them  things  but  to  point  out 
that  they  are  incorporeal.  The  layman  who  wishes  to  convej 
the  advowson  of  a  church  will  say  that  he  conveys  the  church; 
it  is  for  Bracton  to  explain  to  him  that  what  he  means  to  transfei 
is  not  that  structure  of  wood  and  stone  which  belongs  to  God 
and  the  saints,  but  a  thing  incorporeal,  as  incorporeal  as  his  own 
soul  or  the  anima  mundi  .  . .  but  we  cannot  leave  behind  us  the 
law  of  incorporeal  things,  the  most  medieval  pan  of  medieval 


348  THEMAKINGOFMAN 

law,  without  a  word  of  admiration  for  the  daring  fancy  that 
created  it,  a  fancy  that  was  not  afraid  of  the  grotesque."  C1 

But  both  the  idea  that  the  popular  mind  regards  rights  as 
things  and  the  idea  that  the  distinction  between  them  is  the 
mark  of  a  mature  system  of  law  are  open  to  doubt.  The  first 
belief  was  due  probably  to  the  once  widespread  notion  that 
there  is  a  strong  tendency  on  the  part  of  individuals  to 
personify  all  objects  and  phenomena  and  that  this  tendency 
was  particularly  strong  among  primitive  people.  The  child 
who  turns  and  strikes  the  chair  against  which  he  has  stum- 
bled has  been  an  often  cited  example.  This  hypothesis  we 
know  to-day  is  no  longer  tenable.  Even  Levy-Bruhl,  who 
has  argued  brilliantly,  if  unpersuasively,  for  the  theory  that 
primitive  man  possesses  a  type  of  mind  different  from  that 
of  the  mind  of  civilized  man,  admits  that  primitive  man 
employs  concepts.62  Primitive  man  does  not  always  give  con- 
crete form  to  qualities  or  actions,  or  endow  them  with  an- 
thropomorphic characters;  he  conceives  and  recognizes  the 
intangible  as  well  as  the  tangible,  though  whether  his  con- 
ception of  the  distinction  is  as  sharply  verbalized  as  that  of 
civilized  man  is,  of  course,  another  question.  It  is  therefore 
of  the  highest  interest  to  us  when  we  learn  that  individuals 
in  primitive  communities  own,  sell  and  devise  incorporeal 
property.03  Examples  of  this  form  of  ownership  are  nu- 
merous and  are  not  confined  to  a  particular  geographical 
area  but  are  well-developed  among  many  primitive  com- 
munities. A  few  instances  of  this  form  of  ownership  in  the 
primitive  social  organization  will  illustrate  its  nature.  Among 
the  Central  Eskimo  the  magical  formulae  which  the  hunter 
sings  to  secure  success  in  the  chase  are  not  communally 
owned  but  are  the  private  property  of  the  particular  hunts- 
man. Among  the  Greenland  Eskimo  the  right  to  use  spells 
is  emphatically  private  property.  There  is,  however,  a  limita- 
tion on  the  degree  of  ownership  of  this  right.  The  owner 
D£  the  right  is  not  the  absolute  owner  in  the  sense  that  the 
light  is  at  his  complete  disposition:  he  cannot  give  it  away. 
Only  if  the  right  is  transferred  for  a  consideration  will  it 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  349 

retain  its  effectiveness — a  rationalization  which  Lowie  be- 
lieves is  transparent.  The  sale  involves  a  rough  equivalent 
of  the  modern  purchase  of  "good- will."  "When  a  woman 
sells  an  incantation,  she  must  promise  that  she  gives  it  up 
entirely,  and  that  the  buyer  will  become  the  only  possessor- 
of  its  mysterious  power."  G4  Among  the  Andaman  Islanders 
the  right  to  sing  certain  songs,  among  the  North  American 
Indians  and  the  natives  of  the  Eastern  Torres  Straits  Islands 
the  right  to  recount  legends,  and  among  the  natives  o£ 
British  Columbia  the  right  to  use  certain  names  and  magical 
formulae  are  all  regarded  as  private  property  which  cannot 
be  appropriated  or  used  by  others.  It  thus  appears  that  the 
existence  of  incorporeal  property  is  a  widespread  feature 
of  human  culture.  The  recognition  of  the  distinction  between 
corporeal  and  incorporeal  property  by  systems  of  law  ap- 
pears ultimately  to  be  no  more  than  a  matter  of  form,  though 
it  is  important  to  recognize  that  for  a  particular  system 
of  law  the  recognition  may  for  certain  periods  of  time  have 
a  profound  effect  upon  its  administration.  In  addition  there 
is  no  reason,  so  far  as  is  disclosed  by  present  studies  of 
primitive  mentality,  why  primitive  peoples  should  not 
recognize  the  distinction,  though  the  present  evidence  is  not 
clear  on  the  point  whether  or  not  in  fact  they  do  so.  Even 
if  we  should  learn  that  the  distinction  between  corporeal 
and  incorporeal  property  is  not  recognized  by  primitive 
peoples,  anthropology  at  least  warns  the  legal  historian  that 
incorporeal  property  is  not  a  development  of  advanced 
cultures  but  is  a  characteristic  of  all  cultures. 

When  we  consider  another  aspect  of  the  problem  of  prop- 
erty— that  of  inheritance — we  find  that  here  also  anthro- 
pology can  be  of  material  assistance.  Maitland  clearly 
recognized  the  importance  of  an  adequate  understanding 
of  the  rudiments  of  family  law  in  connection  with  the  un- 
raveling of  the  mystery  of  the  rules  governing  inheritance. 
"So  long  as  it  is  doubtful  whether  the  prehistoric  time  should 
be  filled,  for  example,  with  agnatic  gcntcs  or  with  hordes 
which  reckon  by  'motherright,'  the  interpretation  of  many 


350  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

a  historic  text  must  be  uncertain." 65  At  the  time  he  wrote, 
the  concept  of  "motherright,"  particularly  in  Germany  from 
whose  scholars  he  derived  much  of  his  inspiration,  exercised 
a  powerful  influence,  and  though  he  did  not  accept  the  con- 
cept, it  had  an  appreciable  influence  on  his  thought.  His 
consideration  of  this  concept  led  him  to  the  penetrating  con- 
clusion that  "family-ownership"  was  really  not  the  origin 
but  the  outcome  of  intestate  succession.66  This  conclusion, 
with  the  modification  that  intestate  succession  is  but  one  of 
the  contributing  factors,  is  accepted  by  anthropologists  to- 
day. From  this  point  Maitland,  however,  proceeded  further 
and  evolved  a  theory  to  account  for  the  origin  of  the  testa- 
ment. He  began  by  imagining  "a  time  when  testamentary 
dispositions  are  unknown  and  land  is  rarely  given  away." 6T 
A  law  of  intestate  succession  becomes  fixed  and  immutable. 
Each  heir  knows  exactly  what  share  of  his  ancestor's  estate 
he  will  receive;  the  ancestor  knows  to  whom  the  proper 
share  of  his  possessions  will  pass.  "What  else  should  happen 
to  it?  He  does  not  want  to  sell  it,  for  there  is  no  one  to 
buy  it;  and  whither  could  he  go  and  what  could  he  do  if 
he  sold  his  land?  Perhaps  the  very  idea  of  a  sale  of  land 
has  not  yet  been  conceived."  68  But  in  course  of  time  wealth 
is  amassed,  purchasers  are  desirous  of  acquiring  the  land, 
bishops  will  confer  spiritual  benefits  for  a  gift,  there  is  a 
struggle  and  law  must  decide  whether  or  not  the  claims  of 
expectant  heirs  can  be  defeated.  There  will  be  a  compromise, 
a  series  of  compromises,  and  then  there  will  be  a  recognition 
of  testamentary  dispositions.  This,  in  brief,  is  Maitland's 
theory  which  has  also  been  adopted  by  Holdsworth  who 
states  it  perhaps  more  explicitly.69  Both  Holdsworth  and 
Maitland  recognize  the  theory  as  a  product  of  "bookland" 
and  not  of  "folkland."  What  went  on  beneath  the  surface 
of  the  books  in  the  world  of  actuality  is  hazy  but  the  written 
records,  in  part  at  least,  support  the  hypothesis.  When  we 
turn  to  anthropological  evidence  we  find  that  the  forms  of 
inheritance  are  protean.  First  of  all  the  practice  of  testation 
is  not  infrequent,  though,  as  in  modern  times,  there  may  be 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  35! 

limitations  upon  it.  Among  the  Fantis  of  West  Africa  the 
customary  law  does  not  permit  any  person  to  bequeath  to 
an  outsider  a  greater  portion  of  his  property  than  is  left  for 
his  family.  Among  the  Maoris  land  obtained  by  purchase  or 
conquest  may  be  given  away  or  willed  by  the  owner  to  any- 
body he  thinks  fit,  but  the  case  is  different  with  patrimony.70 
A  Plains  Indian  cannot  transmit  the  rights  acquired  through 
fasting  for  a  vision  because  of  the  principle  that  such  rights 
can  only  be  acquired  by  like  visions  or  by  purchase.71  Among 
some  tribes,  such  as  the  Maidu,  the  Assiniboin  and  the  Pima, 
all  of  the  decedent's  effects  are  destroyed,  thus  greatly  sim- 
plifying the  rules  of  inheritance.  Again,  there  is  a  principle 
that  articles  peculiarly  applicable  to  a  particular  sex  shall 
pass  to  that  sex.  Women's  clothing,  for  example,  passes  to 
the  female  kin  and  a  man's  weapons  pass  to  the  male  kin. 
Primogeniture,  though  rare,  also  occurs  as  does  "borough- 
english"  or  "junior-right"  as  it  is  known  ethnologically.72 
In  short,  the  forms  of  inheritance  are  multitudinous  and  do 
not  appear  to  follow  a  particular  law  of  development.  Many 
factors — religious,  psychological,  economic,  historical, — all, 
briefly,  but  that  of  logic — contribute  to  the  establishment  of 
the  particular  form  which  obtains.  It  certainly  does  not  seem 
to  be  satisfactory  to  account  for  the  origin  of  inheritance  and 
testamentary  disposition  by  imagining  "a  time  when  testa- 
mentary dispositions  are  unknown  and  land  is  rarely  sold 
or  given  away."  From  the  anthropological  facts  now  avail- 
able it  does  not  appear  possible  to  account  for  either  the 
various  forms  of  inheritance  or  for  the  fact  of  inheritance 
itself.  Westermarck  has  suggested  that  inheritance  may  have 
a  psychological  origin,  and,  though  the  theory  he  has  de- 
veloped to  support  the  idea  is  not  satisfactory,  it  is  possible 
that  we  may  ultimately  recognize  this  as  the  true  basis  of 
the  practice.78 

In  turning  to  the  problems  of  family  law  we  pass  to  a 
consideration  of  the  most  fundamental  and  universal  of  all 
societal  institutions  and  one  which  occupies  a  central  position 
in  all  legal  systems.  What  form  the  earliest  human  groups 


352  THEMAKINGOFMAN 

assumed  is  one  of  the  most  difficult  of  anthropological  prob- 
lems. Briffault,  who  in  recent  times  has  most  thoroughly 
investigated  the  problem,  believes  that  the  human  group 
did  not  develop  out  of  the  animal  herd  and  did  not  consist, 
in  the  first  stages  of  its  development,  of  small  isolated  groups 
corresponding  to  what  we  understand  by  families.  His 
opinion  is  that  the  earliest  human  societies  developed  out  of 
some  form  of  animal  assemblage  and  that  they  were,  like 
all  animal  groups,  primarily  reproductive  in  function,  and 
not,  like  existing  human  groups,  cooperative  organizations.74 
The  most  primitive  form  of  marriage  he  believes  to  be  group 
marriage  which  is  exclusively  sexual  in  its  object.76  Indi- 
vidual marriage,  on  the  other  hand,  had  its  foundation  in 
economic  needs. 

"What,  in  uncultured  societies  we  call  marriage,  far  from 
being  a  means  of  satisfying  the  sexual  instincts,  is  one  of  the 
chief  restrictions  which  have  become  imposed  upon  their  op- 
eration. Those  restrictions,  being  the  effect  of  marriage,  are 
necessarily  non-existent  before  it;  unmarried  females,  outside 
the  prohibited  classes  or  degrees,  are  accessible  to  all  males.  In 
all  uncultured  societies,  where  advanced  retrospective  claims 
have  not  become  developed,  and  the  females  are  not  regularly 
betrothed  or  actually  married  before  they  have  reached  the  age 
of  puberty,  girls  and  women  who  are  not  married  are  under 
no  restrictions  as  to  their  sexual  relations,  and  are  held  to  be 
entirely  free  to  dispose  of  themselves  as  they  please  in  that 
respect.  To  that  rule  there  does  not  exist  any  known  excep- 
tion." 76 

Primitive  man's  motive  in  entering  into  individual  mar- 
riage is  to  obtain  the  economic  advantage  of  personal  service 
which  a  wife  bestows  upon  him;  the  marriage  is  not  entered 
into  with  a  sexual  object  in  view.  With  the  development  of 
agriculture  in  its  higher  forms,  the  accumulation  of  wealth 
became  possible-,  women  accordingly  lost  their  economic 
value  as  workers  and  the  economic  need  out  of  which  in- 
dividual marriage  had  grown  ceased  to  exist.77  Woman  lost 
her  status  as  chief  producer,  and  became  economically  un- 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  353 

productive,  destitute  and  dependent.  Thus  she  turned  to 
the  cultivation  of  charm,  and  in  the  course  of  time,  the 
sexual  element  again  became  the  chief  factor  of  marriage.78 
This,  in  brief,  is  Briffault's  statement  of  social  development. 
It  is  opposed  in  many  vital  points  to  the  theory  first  ad- 
vanced almost  forty  years  ago  by  Westermarck,  whose 
History  of  Human  Marriage  has  ever  since  been  generally 
accepted  as  the  authoritative  statement  of  the  subject. 
Westermarck  maintained  that  marriage  had  a  biological, 
origin,  i.e.,  that  it  was  an  outgrowth  of  marriage  habit? 
which  prevailed  among  animals.79  Westermarck  is  an  an- 
thropologist of  immense  learning  and  the  material  which 
he  collected  to  support  his  theory  was  overwhelming.  His 
influence  in  the  field  of  family  research  has  been  extensive 
and  certain  hypotheses  which  he  endeavored  to  establish 
have  been  generally  regarded  as  irrefutable.  So  great  an 
authority  as  Havelock  Ellis  has  stated  that  "a  completely 
adequate  history  of  marriage  we  can  hardly  expect  to  see. 
No  one  person  could  master  all  the  disciplines  of  study  that 
must  go  to  the  making  of  it,  and  the  separate  work  of  a 
group  of  experts,  each  in  his  own  field  competent,  could 
not  be  fused  into  any  living  and  harmonious  whole," 80  and 
he  believes  that  to-day  the  nearest  approximation  to  such  a 
completely  adequate  history  is  the  work  of  Professor 
Westermarck.  The  fact  that  the  field  is  too  vast  for  any  one 
single-handed  to  master  accounts  in  large  measure  for  the 
circumstance  that  Westermarck's  supremacy  has  for  so  long 
remained  unchallenged.  A  reexamination  of  his  material 
has  appeared  to  be  an  undertaking  which  not  only  would 
occupy  the  major  portion  of  a  lifetime  but  would,  in  view 
•of  the  great  authority  accorded  his  conclusions,  perhaps  lead 
to  no  advance.  It  is  to  the  great  credit  of  Briflault  that  he 
undertook  such  a  reexamination  and  brought  it  to  a  sue 
cessful  conclusion,  with  the  result  that  the  general  concep 
tion  of  the  development  of  the  family  and  marriage  ha? 
•been  modified  in  many  important  respects.  In  the  works  of 
BriflEault  and  Westermarck  we  have  the  most  complete  and 


354  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

scientific  studies,  from  the  societal  standpoint,  of  a  subject 
which  is  of  the  most  universal  and  fundamental  importance. 

It  is  important  first  to  recognize  that,  historically,  mar- 
riage is  primarily  a  social  or  juridic  institution.81  Various 
definitions  of  marriage  have  been  offered  from  time  to  time, 
but  no  definition  yet  proposed  has  been  at  the  same  time  so 
flexible  and  yet  so  definite  that  it  covers  all  forms.  The  task 
confronting  the  anthropologist  is  to  understand  what  is 
meant  by  marriage,  as  distinguished  from  other  sex  relations, 
by  the  people  who  draw  such  a  distinction.82  In  primitive 
communities  the  distinction  appears  to  rest  mainly  upon 
the  fact,  whether  or  not  children  are  born  of  the  union.83 
The  question  of  the  degree  of  permanency  of  the  union  does 
not  enter  into  the  matter.  With  the  passage  of  time  other 
conditions  were  imposed  until  we  reach  the  stage  where  it  is 
held  that  a  ceremony  is  necessary  to  establish  the  relationship. 
At  first  the  relationships  which  are  not  juridic  are  not  re- 
garded as  irregular  nor  subject  to  censure;  but  there  is  an 
inevitable  tendency,  as  Briffault  points  out,  apart  from  all 
other  factors  and  considerations,  "in  a  juridically  established 
relation  to  cause  a  depreciation  in  the  esteem  in  which 
relations  not  so  established  are  held."84  But  the  point  of 
paramount  importance  which  we  must  recognize  is  that 
there  is  in  most  communities  a  form  of  sexual  relationship  as 
distinguished  from  other  forms  which  is  invested  with 
juridic  attributes. 

It  is  this  form  of  sexual  relationship  which  lies  near  the 
core  of  all  legal  systems.  An  adequate  history  of  law  and  a 
sound  philosophy  of  law  cannot  be  written  without  an  un- 
derstanding of  the  social  history  of  the  institution  and  it  is 
almost  entirely  upon  anthropology  that  we  must  depend  for 
this  understanding.  No  one  was  more  keenly  aware  than 
Maitland  of  the  desperate  need  for  sound  anthropological 
evidence  to  complete  the  gaps  in  legal  history  which  ordinary 
methods  of  research  could  not  fill.85  Marriage  among  the 
Anglo-Saxons  appeared  to  consist  of  a  sale  of  "mund"  by 
the  parents  or  guardians  of  a  woman  to  the  husband.84 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  35> 

Maitland's  opinion  was  that  the  sale  of  the  "mund"  was 
not  the  sale  of  the  woman  as  a  chattel,  but  it  was  the  sale 
of  the  protectorship  over  the  woman.  She  assumed  an  hon- 
orable position  as  her  husband's  consort.87  It  is  highly  im- 
portant historically  to  know  whether  a  legal  distinction 
existed  between  the  purchase  of  property  in  the  wife  and  the 
acquirement  of  authority  over  her.  For  many  years  it  was 
disputed  among  anthropologists  whether  or  not  the  sale 
of  the  "mund"  was  really  "wife-purchase"  or  a  sale  of  a 
protectorship.  To-day  the  general  view  is  that  it  was  the 
sale  of  a  protectorship.88  But  wife-purchase  was  not  a  prac- 
tice peculiar  to  the  Anglo-Saxons  or  the  Teutons  but  was 
widespread  among  primitive  tribes  and  even  among  peoples 
who  have  reached  a  high  degree  of  culture  such  as  the 
Chinese,  the  Semites,  the  ancient  Arabs  and  Greeks,  and 
the  Hindus.  Out  of  the  practice  of  wife-purchase  arose,  by 
gradual  steps,  the  practice  which  obtained  in  many  com- 
munities of  providing  the  wife  with  a  dowry.  It  is  of  great 
value  to  us  to  understand  a  peculiar  marriage  practice  in 
one  legal  system  in  relation  to  similar  practices  in  other 
legal  systems.  And  it  is  only  by  attaining  universal  perspec- 
tive that  we  shall  be  able  to  understand  the  phenomena  of 
social  development  in  any  adequate  sense. 

It  is  important  to  note  that  while  anthropology  may  be  of 
great  assistance  in  expanding  and  clarifying  legal  concepts 
and  practices  it  may  also  show  that  these  concepts  and  prac- 
tices have  their  origin  in  superstition,  fear,  vanity  or  some 
other  ignoble  source.  This,  however,  as  Sumner  and  Keller 
point  out,89  is  no  sufficient  reason  for  condemning  a  concept 
or  a  practice.  Astronomy  grew  out  of  astrology  and  medicine 
began  with  the  exorcising  of  evil  spirits.  The  test  to  apply 
is  whether  the  concept  or  practice  in  its  historical  setting 
possesses  social  worth.  And  anthropology  can  aid  not  only 
in  the  enlargement  of  our  comprehension  of  the  legal  con- 
cepts associated  with  property  and  the  family,  but  it  can 
also  assist  materially  in  determining  the  present  value  of 
those  concepts. 


556  THEMAKINGOFMAN 

When  we  turn  from  the  historical  and  conceptual  relation 
•of  law  and  anthropology  to  the  problem  of  law  and  anthro- 
pology in  action  we  pass  to  a  question  which  may  seem 
remote  from  problems  of  jurisprudence.  Nevertheless,  it 
is  one  of  the  gravest  problems  of  world  politics.  It  is  the 
problem  of  the  system  of  justice  to  be  adopted  by  the 
dominating  power  in  colonies  populated  by  people  of  sim- 
pler culture.  Lord  Lugard's  admirable  volume,  The  Dual 
Mandate  in  British  Tropical  Africa™  well  illustrates  the 
difficulties  accompanying  this  task  and  is  the  best  text  for 
this  discussion.  In  the  British  African  Tropical  Dependencies 
the  fundamental  law,  applicable  alike  to  Europeans  and 
natives,  is  the  English  common  law  and  principles  of 
equity,  administered  concurrently,  and  the  statutes  of  gen- 
eral application  which  were  in  force  in  England  at  the  time 
the  administration  was  created.  This  body  of  law  may  be 
modified  by  Acts  of  the  Imperial  Parliament,  by  orders  of 
His  Majesty  in  Council,  and  by  local  ordinances.  To  apply 
this  law  to  the  exclusion  of  all  other  law  would,  it  was 
found,  result  in  inequities  and  hardships,  and  accordingly 
it  was  provided  that  the  British  Courts  in  civil  cases  affect- 
ing natives  (and  non-natives  in  their  contractual  relations 
with  natives)  should  be  guided  by  native  law,  religion  and 
custom.  This  is  contrary  to  the  system  prevailing  in  French 
Tropical  Africa  where  if  either  party  is  a  European  French 
law  is  always  applied  to  the  exclusion  of  native  law.  It  was 
found  in  practice  that  many  native  rules  of  law  or  custom 
were  repugnant  to  European  ideas  of  propriety  and  the 
further  proviso  was  made  that  the  rules  would  not  be  en- 
forced if  they  were  contrary  to  "natural  justice  and  hu- 
manity." Thus  a  native  law  which  compelled  the  destruction 
of  twins  would  not  be  enforceable;  indeed,  if  it  were  en- 
forced the  act  of  destruction  would  be  regarded  as  an  of- 
fense. In  addition  it  was  found  necessary  to  change  many 
procedural  rules.  Thus  a  Chief  Justice,  lately  arrived  from 
England  to  assume  his  duties,  was  greatly  surprised  when  an 
accused  man  pleaded  guilty  of  having  turned  himself  into- 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  357 

a  hyena  at  night  and  devoured  children,  because  there  was  a 
consensus  of  village  opinion  that  he  had  done  so.  At  present 
a  plea  of  not  guilty  is  entered  on  behalf  of  an  illiterate  ac- 
cused, and  in  capital  cases  the  evidence  must,  generally 
speaking,  be  sufficient  for  conviction  irrespective  of  the  as- 
sertions of  the  accused.  Equally  difficult  of  solution  is  the 
problem  of  punishment.  The  Koran  prescribes  death  by  ston- 
ing for  the  oflfense  of  adultery.  This  manifestly  could  not  be 
enforced  by  a  British  court  and  as  the  Moslem  judges  in- 
sisted that,  at  least  for  the  moral  effect,  there  should  be 
administered  a  light  birching  on  the  shoulders,  a  com- 
promise was  reached  by  which  the  person  who  inflicted  the 
chastisement  kept  some  cowrie  shells  under  his  armpit  so 
as  to  prevent  the  raising  of  the  arm  to  strike  with  force. 
If  the  cowries  dropped  the  culprit  was  reprieved.  This  brief 
summary  indicates  the  nature  and  extent  of  the  problems 
confronting  a  nation  assuming  control  of  a  native  de- 
pendency. 

But  to  leave  the  reconciliation  of  native  and  foreign  law 
to  the  standard  of  "natural  justice  and  humanity"  is  plainly 
inadequate  for  the  simple  reason  that  "natural  justice  and 
humanity"  is  a  concept  totally  devoid  of  definite  meaning. 
Even  Lord  Lugard  admits,  in  connection  with  the  question 
of  infliction  of  corporal  punishment  upon  a  woman,  that  "it 
is  questionable  whether  in  the  circumstances  it  could  be 
said  to  be  'repugnant  to  natural  justice  and  humanity.'" 
And  when  we  approach  the  delicate  problem  of  slavery  we 
find,  particularly  in  other  parts  of  Africa,  that  as  a  criterion 
it  is  of  no  value  at  all.  It  is  here  that  anthropology  can 
render  assistance  of  immediate  and  practical  benefit.  For 
administrators  to  enter  territories  with  whose  custom  and 
law  they  are  totally  unfamiliar  and  to  set  up  systems  of 
justice  which  are  expected  to  function  equitably  is  absurd. 
It  is  to  the  anthropologist  who  is  intimately  acquainted  not 
only  with  the  peculiarities  of  the  particular  territory  but 
with  the  principles  of  social  organization  which  obtain  in 
other  primitive  communities  as  well  that  the  administrator 


35**  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

must  turn  for  help.  With  such  assistance  a  system  of  justice 
adapted  to  the  specific  territory  can  be  erected  which  will 
function  with  a  minimum  of  friction. 

We  thus  see,  to  return  to  our  original  problem,  that  al- 
though specialized,  there  is,  along  certain  lines,  a  real  rela- 
tionship between  law  and  anthropology  and  that  anthro- 
pology can  be  of  assistance  in  the  solution  of  many  legal 
problems.  There  is,  though,  one  final  warning  which  must 
be  heeded  if  there  is  to  be  a  genuine  advance  in  the  apprecia- 
tion of  the  relationship  of  these  two  subjects.  Anthropology 
has  always  been  a  fascinating  subject  from  which  to  draw 
for  many  social  theories.  Hobbes' 91  idea  of  a  state  of  nature 
was  influenced  by  the  contemporary  knowledge  of  primitive 
life;  Locke's 92  principal  example  in  support  of  his  conten- 
tions was  the  "Indian";  and  Rousseau's93  "Noble  Savage" 
has  become  legendary.  But  as  Professor  Myers  pointed  out 
more  than  twenty  years  ago,  "the  very  questions  which 
philosophers  have  asked,  the  very  questions  which  perplexed 
them,  no  less  than  the  solutions  which  they  proposed,  melt 
away  and  vanish,  as  problems,  when  the  perspective  of 
anthropology  shifted  and  the  standpoint  of  observation  ad- 
vanced." **  Not  only  is  it  important  to  ask  the  right  question, 
as  Bacon  showed,  but  it  is  equally  important  to  test  conclu- 
sions based  upon  anthropological  observation  with  all  the 
available  evidence  and  not  merely  to  support  them  by  facts 
selected  to  fit  the  problem. 

NOTES 

1  Treatise  of  Human  Nature  (1817),  pt.  iii;  An  Enquiry  Concerning 
Human  Understanding  (1750),  sec.  vi. 

2  Art.  Science  in  Whither  Mankind  (1928),  p.  65.  The  present  posi- 
tion of  induction  is  set  forth,  in  addition  to  the  above  reference,  in  the 
following  books  and  articles:  Keynes,  A  Treatise  on  Probability   (1921); 
Nicod,  Foundations  of  Geometry  and  Induction   (1930);   Book  Review 
(1925),  34  Mind  483;  Nisbet,  The  Foundations  of  Probability  (1926),  35 
Mind  i;  Russell,  The  Analysis  of  Matter  (1927),  PP-  167,  I94J  Philosophy 
(1927),  chap.  xxv. 

8  Principles  of  Sociology  (1879),  i.  pt.  ii;  Principles  of  Ethics  (1879), 
pt.  iv. 
*  Preserved  Smith,  "Luther's  Early  Development  in  the  Light  of  Psycho- 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  359 

analysis"  (1913),  Am.  Jr.  Psych.,  xxiv,  p.  360;  Freud,  Leonardo  da  Vinci 
(1916). 

5  Ancient  Law   (1861);   Lectures  on  the  Early  History  of  Institution* 
0875);  Village  Communities  in  the  East  and  West  (1871);  Dissertations 
on  Early  Law  and  Custom  (1883). 

6  Die  GeschlechtSKenossen  der  Urzect  und  die  Entstehung  der  Eke  (1875); 
Der  Ur 'sprung  des  Rechts  (1876);  Die  Anfange  des  Staats-  und  Rechtslebens 
(1878);  Bausteine  jur  eine  allegmeine  Rechtswissenschajt  auf  vergleichend- 
fthnologischer  Basis  (1880-81);  Die  Grundlagen  des  Rechts  (1884);  Afri- 
kanisch   Jurisprudenz    (1887);   Studien   zur  Entwickfungsgeschichte  det 
Familiensrecht  (1890). 

7  Zeitschrift  fur  vergleichende  Rcchtswisscnschajt,  passim. 
*lbid.  (1897),  xii,  pp.  187-353. 

9  (1851). 

™The  Patriarchal  Theory  (1885),  passim;  cf.  Spencer,  Principles  oj 
Sociology,  i,  pt.  iii,  chap.  ix. 

11  Pound  thus  well  summarizes  the  achievements  in  this  field:  "Theses 
interpretations  have  done  something  for  the  science  of  law  as  it  is  to-day, 
They  have  led  us  to  a  wider  basis  for  philosophy  of  law.  They  have  in* 
troduced  thorough  study  of  primitive  social  and  legal  institutions  and  thus 
have  exploded  many  traditional  false  ideas  that  had  come  down  from  the 
days  of  the  statc-of-nature  theory.  They  have  given  added  impetus  to  the 
movement  for  unification  of  the  social  sciences  by  establishing  connections 
with  ethnology  and  anthropology  and  social  psychology.  Most  of  all  they 
have  suggested  lines  of  preparatory  work  that  must  be  carried  on  before 
we  may  achieve  an  adequate  social  theory  and  hence  an  adequate  theory 
of  law  as  a  social  phenomenon"  (Interpretations  of  Legal  History  (1923). 
p.  91). 

12  Cf.  Frank,  "An  Institutional  Analysis  of  the  Law"   (1924),  Col.  L. 
Rev.,  xxiv,  p.  480;  Cantor,  "Law  and  the  Social  Sciences"  (1930),  A.  B. 
A.  ].,  xvi,  p.  385. 

13  Crime  and  Custom  in  Savage  Society  (1926). 

14  "Anthropology  and  Law,"  in  The  Social  Sciences  (1927),  p.  50;  "In- 
corporeal  Property  in  Primitive  Society"  (1928),  Yale  L.  ].,  xxxvii,  p.  551, 

15  Malinowski,  op.  cit.,  supra,  note  13,  at  5. 
10(1912-13). 

17Cf.  Pound,  art.  "Jurisprudence,"  in  The  History  and  Prospects  of  th* 
Social  Sciences  (1925),  pp.  463-4,  and  the  same  author's  "Law  in  Books 
and  Law  in  Action"  (1910),  Am.  L.  Rev.,  xl,  p.  12. 

18  Art.  "Social   Anthropology,"   in   Encyclopedia  Britannica   (i4th  ed., 
1929);  cf.  his  article,  Parenthood — The  Basis  of  Social  Structure  in  the  New 
Generation  (1930). 

19  General  Sociology  (1905). 

20  Community  (a  sociological  study,  1924);  The  Modern  State  (1926). 
^The  State  (1914). 

22  New  Republic,  xiii,  Nov.  17,  1917,  supp.  3. 

28  Barnes,  Sociology  and  Political  Theory  (1924),  p.  43. 

24  The  Growth  of  the  Law  (1924),  p.  52.  Cf.  p.  44.  For  a  similar  defini- 
tion cf.  John  C.  H.  Wu,  Juridical  Essays  and  Studies  (1928),  p.  108.  Dr. 
Wu  adds,  "Psychologically,  law  is  a  science  of  prediction  par  excellence." 


360  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

Cf.  Mcyerson,  Identity  and  Reality  (1930),  p.  25.  "Science,  we  have  just 
seen,  has  an  end,  prevision.  Its  domain  will  thus  include  all  that  is  capable 
of  being  foreseen,  all  of  the  facts  subject  to  rules.  Where  there  is  no  law, 
there  is  no  science." 

23  Hobhouse,  Wheeler,  and  Ginsberg,  The  Material  Culture  and  Social 
Institutions  of  the  Simpler  Peoples  (1915),  p.  50  et  seq.;  Rivers,  Social 
Organization  (1924),  p.  159  et  seq.;  Malmowski,  op.  cit.,  supra,  note  13, 
passim. 

26  Rivers,  ibid.,  pp.  168-9. 

27  Ibid. 

28  Although  published  as  late  as  1924  E.  Sidney  Hartland's  Primitive 
Law,  while  in  many  respects  a  valuable  work,  is  based  to  a  considerable 
degree  upon  older  anthropological  concepts. 

29  Malmowski,  op.  cit.,  supra,  note  13,  at  58.  There  is  an  ellipsis  in  this 
definition  though  the  meaning  is  clear.  A  body  of  binding  obligations  cannot 
be  regarded  as  a  right  or  acknowledged  as  a  duty.  Perhaps  the  definition 
should  be  worded:  "Civil  law  .  . .  consists ...  of  a  body  of  binding  obliga- 
tions which  is  recognized  as  specifying  rights  of  one  party  and  duties  of  the 
other " 

*°The  Meaning  of  Meaning  (1923),  chap.  vi. 

31  An  Examination  of  the  Nature  of  the  State  (1896);  The  Fundamental 
Concepts  of  Public  Law  (1924). 

32  Maclver,  The  Modern  State,  pp.  40-42. 
88  The  Origin  of  the  State  (1927),  chap.  vi. 
34  Maclver,  The  Modern  State,  p.  22. 

85  A.  d'Abro,  The  Evolution  of  Scientific  Thought  (1927),  p.  35.  Cf. 
Edwin  W.  Patterson,  "Can  Law  15c  Scientific?"  (1930),  ///.  L.  Rev.,  xxv, 
p.  121. 

36  Principles  of  Logic  (1920),  p.  vii. 

37  Three  Collected  Papers  (1911),  p.  295. 

88  Culture  and  Ethnology  (1917);  Primitive  Society  (1920);  Primitive 
Religion  (1924). 

89  Early  Civilization   (1922). 

40  The  Todas  (1906);  History  of  Melancsian  Society  (1914);  Kinship 
and  Social  Organization   (1914);  Social  Organization   (1924). 

41  The  Family  Among  the  Australian  Aborigines  (1913);  Argonauts  of 
the  Western  Pacific  (1922);  "The  Natives  of  Mailu"  (Trans,  of  the  R.  Soc. 
of  S.  Australia,  Adc'aide,  1915);  Myth  in  Primitive  Psychology   (1926); 
Crime  and   Ctis'vm   in   Savage  Society,   supra,   note    13;   The   Father  in 
Primitive  Psychology  (1927);  Sex  and  Repression  in  Savage  Society  (1927); 
The  Sexual  Life  of  Savages  (1929). 

**The  Mothers  (1927). 

48  Hist.  E.  L.  (3rd  ed.,  1923),  ii,  p.  78. 

44  Ibid. 

45  Argonauts  of  the  Western  Pacific,  p.  117. 

46  Y-'/r  L.  ].,  xxxvii,  p.  55,  supra,  note  14. 

47  Holdsworth,  Hist.  E.  L.,  iii,  p.  222. 

48  Ibid.,  p.  224. 

4*Skcat,  Concise  Etymological  Dictionary  (1911),  word  "seize." 
10  Pollock  and  Mai tl and,  Hist.  E.  L.  (1895),  ii,  pp.  29-30.  Skeat  it  also 
:  authority  for  this  view. 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  361 

61  Ibid.  Cf.  Joiin  des  Longrais,  La  conception  anglaise  de  la  saisine  du 
Xll*  au  X/V«  siecle  (1925),  pp.  166-7. 

52Sumner  and  Keller,  Science  of  Society  (1927),  i,  §  108. 

ca  ibid. 

64  First  Principles  (1862),  chap.  xvii.  Cf.  Principles  of  Sociology,  ii.  p.  229. 

55  "And  God  blessed  them,  and  God  said  unto  them  . . .  have  dominion 
over  the  fish  of  the  sea,  and  over  the  fowl  of  the  air,  and  over  every  living 
thing  that  moveth  upon  the  earth"  (Gen.  1:28). 

50  Bl.  Comm.,  n,  *  3.  "The  airy  metaphysical  notions  of  fanciful  writers'* 
is  perhaps  a  shatt  aimed  at  Locke's  theory  of  property.  Cf.  Treatises  of 
Government  (1690),  n,  chap.  v.  Previously  Blackstone  had  pointed  out 
(though  without  naming  him)  that  Locke's  theory  of  the  origin  of  political 
societies  through  a  social  contract  was  "too  wild  to  be  seriously  admitted." 
Bl.  Comm.,  i,  *  47. 

57  Bl.  Comm.,  n,  *  3.  Even  at  this  stage  Blackstone  was  careful  to  point 
out  that  community  of  ownership  applied  only  to  the  substance  and  not 
to  the  "use."  A  man  who  lay  in  the  shade  of  a  tree  could  not  be  forcibly 
ejected,  but  having  once  abandoned  the  spot,  another  could  occupy  it 
unmolested  by  the  oiigmai  occupier  or  any  one  else.  Ibid. 

68  Op.  cit.  (1877),  p.  527. 

™  Incorporeal  Property  in  Pnmitive  Society,  supra,  note  14. 

60  Holdsworth,  Hist.  E.  L.,  ii,  p.  355. 

61  Pollock  and  Maitland,  Hist.  E.  L.,  n,  pp.  123,  147-8. 

62  How  Natives  Thinly  (1926),  p.  116. 

63  Lowic,  who  has  been  especially  interested  in  this  point,  has  collected 
many  examples.  Incorporeal  Property  in  Primitive  Society,  supra,  note  14, 
and  Primitive  Society,  pp.  235-43;  cf-  Wisslcr,  The  American  Indian  (1917), 
pp.  174-5;  Introduction  to  Social  Anthropology  (1929),  p.  77. 

04  Jodiclson,  "Material  Culture  and  Social  Organisation  of  the  Koryak'" 
(Mem.  Amer.  Mus.  Nat.  Hist.,  1908,  x,  p.  59).  Quoted,  Lowic,  art.,  supra. 
note  14,  at  555. 

05  Pollock  and  Maitland,  Hist.  E.  L.,  ii,  p.  237. 
00  Ibid.,  ii,  p.  247. 

67  Ibid. 
«s  Ibid. 

09  Holdsworth,  Hist.  E.  L.,  ii,  p.  92  et  seq. 

7r  Wcstermarck,  Origin  and  Development  of  the  Moral  Ideas  (1917)1 
ii,  p.  43. 

71  Lowie,  Primitive  Society,  pp.  243-4. 

72  Ibid.,  pp.  24  5-55. 

73  Wcstcrmarck,  op.  cit.,  ii,  supra,  note  70,  at  53. 

74  The  Mothers,  i,  p.  194  et  seq. 

75  Ibid.,  chaps,  xi-xii. 

78  BrifTault,  The  Mothers,  ii,  p.  2  et  seq. 

77  Ibid.,  p.  251. 

78  Ibid.,  p.  254. 

79  History  of  Human  Marriage  (5th  ed.  1922),  Ii,  chap.  i. 

80  Studies  in  the  Psychology  of  Sex  (1928),  vii,  p.  492. 

81  Maclvcr  has  been  one  of  the  few  sociologists  to  inquire  the  meaning 
of  "institution."     He  defines  it  as  "a  form  of  order  established  withta 
social  life  by  some  common  will."  Community,  bk.  ii,  ch.  iv. 


362  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

82  Briffault,  The  Mothers,  ii,  p.  93. 
88  Ibid.,  pp.  69-88. 

84  Ibid.,  p.  96. 

85  Cf.  Pollock  and  Maitland,  Hist.  E.  L.,  ii,  p.  237. 
**lbid.t  pp.  362-3;  Holdsworth,  Hist.  E.  L.,  ii,  p.  87. 

87  Ibid. 

88  Wcstermarck,  History  of  Human  Marriage,  ii,  p.  412;  Howard,  His* 
iory  of  Matrimonial  Institutions  (1904),  i,  p.  260. 

89  Science  of  Society,  §  113. 

90  (1922),  chaps,  xxvii-xxviii;  cf.  Maine,   Village  Communities  in  the 
East  and  West,  chap.  "The  Theory  of  Evidence." 

81  Leviathan  (1651),  chaps,  xiii  and  xx. 

98  Essay  Concerning  Human  Understanding  (1690),  bk.  i,  chaps,  iii-iv; 
Two  Treatises  of  Civil  Government  (1690),  passim. 

98  Discours  sur  I'lnegalite  (1754),  pt.  i. 

94  "The  Influence  of  Anthropology  on  the  Course  of  Political  Science'* 
(Univ.  Col.  Pub.  Hist.f  1916,  iv,  p.  75). 


TOTEMISM 
AN  ESSAY  ON  RELIGION  AND  SOCIETY 

By  ALEXANDER  GOLDENWEISER 
I.  DEFINITION  AND  GEOGRAPHICAL  DISTRIBUTION  OF  TOTEMISM 

IN  the  cultures  of  many  primitive  tribes,  features  of  religion 
and  social  organization  are  combined  in  a  peculiar  way 
Anthropologists  call  such  tribes  totemic,  while  designating  as 
a  totemic  complex  the  sum-total  of  features,  whether  re 
ligious,  ritualistic,  social  or  artistic,  which  make  up  totcmism. 

Totemism  is  one  of  the  most  widespread  institutions  of 
primitive  society.  It  is  found  in  North  America  in  several 
wide-flung  areas;  as  our  knowledge  of  South  America  in- 
creases, totemism  there  seems  to  be  almost  equally  common; 
it  is  encountered  in  Africa  throughout  the  enormous  area 
south  of  the  Sahara  and  north  of  the  desert  of  Kalahari;  in 
India  we  again  discover  it  in  numerous  tribes,  here  in  a 
crude,  or  perhaps,  moribund  form;  in  Australia  totemism  is 
practically  universal,  and  it  is  found,  in  function  or  at  least 
in  traces,  in  several  of  the  island  clusters  of  Melanesia. 

An  institution  so  general  in  primitive  society,  and  in  it 
alone,  is  evidently  tied  to  it  by  bonds  far  from  casual.  An 
understanding  of  totemism  seems  imperative  if  primitive  life 
and  thought  are  to  be  understood. 

In  his  presidential  address  before  Section  H,  Anthro- 
pology, of  the  British  Association  for  the  Advancement  of 
Science,  A.  C.  Haddon  referred  to  totemism  in  the  following 
terms:  "Totemism,  as  Dr.  Frazer  and  I  understand  it  in  its 
fully  developed  condition,  implies  the  division  of  a  people 
into  several  totem  kins  (or,  as  they  are  usually  termed,  totem 
clans),  *ach  of  which  has  one  or  sometimes  more  than  one 

3*3 


364  THEMAKINGOFMAN 

totem.  The  totem  is  usually  a  species  of  animal,  sometimes 
a  species  of  plant,  occasionally  a  natural  object  or  phe- 
nomenon, very  rarely  a  manufactured  object.  Totemism  also 
involves  the  rules  of  exogamy,  forbidding  marriage  between 
the  kins.  It  is  essentially  connected  with  the  matriarchal 
stage  of  culture  (mother-right),  though  it  passes  over  into 
the  patriarchal  stage  (father-right) .  The  totems  are  regarded 
as  kinsfolk  and  protectors  of  the  kinsmen,  who  respect  them 
and  abstain  from  killing  and  eating  them.  There  is  thus  a 
recognition  of  mutual  rights  and  obligations  between  the 
members  of  the  kin  and  their  totem.  The  totem  is  the  crest 
or  symbol  of  the  kin." 

Without  endorsing  this  now  somewhat  antiquated  state- 
ment, we  may  let  it  stand  as  a  fairly  accurate  description  of 
a  common  enough  content  of  a  totemic  complex. 

II.  THEORIES  OF  TOTEMISM 

In  the  Fortnightly  Review  for  1869-70,  John  Ferguson  Mc- 
Lennan published  two  articles  on  "The  Worship  of  Animals 
and  Plants";  the  first  he  called  "Totems  and  Totemism,"  the 
second,  "Totem-Gods  Among  the  Ancients."  Ever  since,  and 
especially  after  the  appearance  of  J.  G.  (now  Sir  John) 
Frazer's  initial  study,  Totemism  (1887),  this  subject  has  per- 
sistently evoked  theories  not  from  anthropologists  alone  but 
from  sociologists,  psychologists,  psychoanalysts  and  others. 
Some  of  these  may  now  be  passed  in  brief  review. 

In  speculating  about  totemism  some  authors  were  pri- 
marily concerned  with  its  origin  while  others  attempted  to 
place  totemism  against  the  background  of  primitive  men- 
tality or  to  indicate  its  place  in  the  evolution  of  religion. 
Totemism  was  conceived  as  a  "system  of  naming"  by  Major 
Powell,1  a  theory  partially  maintained  also  by  Pikler  and 
Somlo 2  and  by  Herbert  Spencer.  In  the  form  given  to  it  by 
die  latter  author  the  theory  became  known  as  the  "misrepre- 
sentation of  nicknames"  theory.  Spencer  assumed  that  ani- 
tnal  names  were  once  given  to  individuals,  that  these  names 
were  subsequently  confused  with  the  animals  themselves, 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  365 

owing  to  the  vagueness  of  primitive  languages,  and  that 
ultimately  such  animals  came  to  be  worshiped  as  ancestors. 
Andrew  Lang  in  his  Secret  of  the  Totem  (1905),  prrtially 
subscribed  to  the  naming  theory  with  two  important  modi- 
fications. He  held  that,  for  one  reason  or  another,  the  animal 
names  were  first  applied  to  social  groups,  not  to  individuals, 
that  later  the  origin  of  these  names  was  forgotten,  and  specu- 
lative guesses  were  made  by  the  primitives  as  to  the  pro- 
venience of  the  names.  Thus  the  stage  was  set  for  a  totemic 
origin.  "No  more  than  these  three  things — argued  Lang — 
a  group  animal  name  of  unknown  origin;  belief  in  a  trans- 
cendental connection  between  all  bearers,  human  and  bestial, 
of  the  same  name;  and  belief  in  the  blood  superstitions — 
were  needed  to  give  rise  to  all  the  totemic  creeds  or  practices, 
including  exogamy." 

Frazer,  who  launched  totemism  upon  its  busy  career  and 
years  later  contributed  to  the  subject  his  massive  four- 
volume  work,  Totemism  and  Exogamy  (1910),  entertained 
at  different  times  three  different  theories  of  totemic  origin. 
The  first  became  known  as  the  "outward  soul"  or  "bush 
soul"  theory,  the  second  as  the  "cooperative  magic"  theory, 
and  the  third  as  the  "conceptional"  theory.  Initially,  Frazer 
held  that  totemism  developed  out  of  the  practice  of  tucking 
away  human  souls  in  animals,  for  preservation  or  safety.8 
This  enhanced  the  religious  status  of  the  animals.  As  it  was 
not  known,  moreover,  in  which  particular  animal  of  a 
species  the  "bush  soul"  had  its  abode,  the  custom  in  time 
led  to  the  veneration  of  the  entire  species.  Frazer's  second 
hypothesis  was  suggeted  by  the  intichiuma  ceremonies  de- 
scribed by  Spencer  and  Gillen  (1899)  in  their  work  on  the 
Central  Australians.  These  ceremonies,  which  have  since 
been  described  and  discussed  so  much,  consist  in  somewhat 
dramatic  rituals  in  which  the  natives  dance  and  sing  their 
magical  rites  for  the  multiplication  of  the  totem  animals. 
Each  gens  has  the  exclusive  right  to  perform  the  intichiuma 
for  its  own  totem  animal.  From  the  resulting  enhancement 
of  the  species  the  gens  itself  does  not,  to  be  sure,  derive  any 


366  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

benefit,  for  the  totem  is  taboo  to  its  members,  but  the  other 
gentes  do  benefit.  "In  short,"  writes  Frazer,4  "totemism 
among  the  Central  Australian  tribes  appears,  if  we  may 
judge  from  the  intichiuma  ceremonies,  to  be  an  organized 
system  of  magic  intended  to  procure  for  savage  man  a 
plentiful  supply  of  all  the  natural  objects  whereof  he  stands 
in  need."  Then,  waxing  enthusiastic,  the  author  adds:  "The 
thought  naturally  presents  itself  to  us:  'Have  we  not  in  these 
ceremonies  the  key  to  the  original  meaning  and  purpose  of 
totemism  among  the  Central  Australian  tribes,  perhaps  even 
of  totemism  in  general?'"  Further  pondering  of  the  Aus- 
tralian material,  meanwhile  amplified  by  Spencer  and  Gil- 
len's  second  study  (1904),  then  led  to  the  formulation  of  the 
third  and  final  theory,  the  "conceptional"  one  (1905).  It 
appeared  that  these  natives  ascribed  conception,  the  physi- 
blogy  of  which  was  obscure  to  them,  to  the  impregnation  of 
Ivomen  by  spirits  or  spirit  carriers  which  they  encountered, 
or  thought  they  did,  at  the  sacred  totem  spots  (o^nani- 
tylla)  haunted  by  the  spirits.  "If  we  use  what  in  particular 
may  have  suggested  the  theory  of  conception  which  appears 
to  be  the  tap-root  of  totemism,"  says  Frazer,  "it  seems 
probable  that,  as  I  have  already  indicated,  a  preponderant 
influence  is  to  be  ascribed  to  the  sick  fancies  of  pregnant 
women,  and  that  so  far,  totemism  may  be  described  as  a 
creadon  of  the  feminine  rather  than  of  the  masculine  mind.'* 
With  this  contribution  to  the  psychology  of  the  sexes, 
Frazer's  speculations  about  totemism  come  to  an  end. 

Pater  Schmidt,  the  then  editor  of  the  Anthropos,  saw  the 
origin  of  totemism,  at  least  in  Australia  and  certain  parts 
of  the  South  Seas  region,  in  primitive  trade.  He  observed 
first  that  in  Mabuiag  the  two  totems  used  in  the  magical 
fertilization  ceremonies  are  also  the  principal,  or  perhaps 
only,  articles  employed  in  inter-tribal  trade.  Reflection  over 
this  fact  led  to  a  theory  which  deduced  totemism  "seem- 
ingly so  mysterious"  from  a  "relatively  prosaic  and  simple 
source." 5  Here  it  is!  Who  does  not  know  the  familiar  fact, 
writes  the  author  in  substance,  that  our  peasants  often 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  36,* 

abstain  from  using  in  their  own  households  the  food  prod- 
ucts they  cultivate,  but  export  them  mostly  to  the  neighbor- 
ing town?  What  we  find  here  in  rudimentary  form  may 
develop  everywhere  under  analogous  conditions.  Such  con- 
ditions we  find  wherever  the  production  and  consumption 
of  food-articles  are  locally  distinct,  calling  for  supplementary 
inter-tribal  exchange  of  food-products.  Local  products  in- 
tended for  trade,  are  tabooed  to  the  inhabitants  of  the  dis- 
trict. The  food  interdict,  an  economic  custom  in  origin, 
becomes  in  time  a  moral  law,  and  after  a  while  the  original 
motive  of  the  interdict  is  forgotten  (it  is  to  be  noted  how 
Schmidt,  and  before  him  Lang,  exploits  the  speculative  pos- 
sibilities of  such  an  hypothesized  amnesia) .  "There  followed 
a  time  of  doubt  and  uncertainty,"  quoth  the  author,  "condi- 
tions pregnant  with  metaphysical  associations."  In  recogni' 
tion  of  its  importance  in  the  life  of  the  tribe,  the  animal  of 
plant  becomes  the  mythical  source  of  the  life  of  the  tribe, 
its  ancestor.  And  what  could  be  more  natural  than  that  the 
group  should  assume  or  be  called  by  the  name  of  the  animal 
or  plant  so  plentiful  in  its  district! 

After  advancing  a  further  argument  in  favor  of  the  pri- 
ority of  plant-magic  over  animal-magic,  Schmidt  concludes 
that  garden-culture  was  the  cradle  of  the  magical  multi- 
plication rites:  "I  believe  that  these  things  develop  quite 
naturally  out  of  plant-cultivation  followed  by  trade;  starting 
from  this  base,  the  subsequent  developments  in  the  sphere 
of  mythology  explain  equally  naturally  all  the  details  of 
the  fertilization  rites  and  of  the  peculiar  totemism  of  the 
Northern  Australians,"  This  theory,  extravagant  though  it 
might  seem,  does  not  stand  alone,  for  it  was  anticipated  by 
A.  C.  Haddon,  who  in  1902  advanced  a  very  similar  theory, 
even  though  less  elaborately  argued.6 

There  were  other  theories.  Hill-Tout,  basing  his  conclu- 
sions mainly  on  data  from  the  Salish  tribes  of  British  Co- 
lumbia, held  that  totemism  grew  out  of  the  worship  of 
individual  guardian  spirits.7  Ankermann,  who  worked 
largely  with  African  material,  saw  the  basis  of  totemism  iu 


368  THEMAKINGOFMAN 

a  sort  of  compensation  for  the  drabness  o£  primitive  life, 
accompanied  by  an  urge  to  play  with  the  man-animal  rela- 
tionship, to  dramatize  it.8  Graebner,  faithful  to  his  diffu- 
sionistic  principles,  identified  totemism  with  localization  and 
paternal  descent,  forming  a  culture  area;  9  and  so  on  and  on. 
For  the  sake  of  brevity  I  shall  not  consider  these  theories, 
turning  instead  to  the  more  ambitious  contributions  of 
Emile  Durkheim,  Wilhelm  Wundt  and  Sigmund  Freud. 

No  adequate  analysis  of  Durkheim's  theory  contained  in 
his  Elementary  Forms  of  the  Religious  Life,  The  Totemic 
System  in  Australia,  1915  (French  original,  1912),  can  be 
given  here;  a  brief  summary  attempted  elsewhere  will  have 
to  suffice.10  Religion  is  a  complex  of  beliefs  and  activities 
referring  to  sacred  things,  and  the  characteristic  fact  in  all 
religions  is  the  division  of  beings,  things  and  activities  into 
sacred  and  profane.  If  Australian  totemism  is  a  genuine 
religion,  it  must  be  the  most  primitive  type  of  religion,  for 
the  social  organization  of  the  Australians  is  the  most  primi- 
tive known  to  us,  being  based  on  the  clan. 

The  totcmic  symbol  or  emblem  is  the  expression  of  the 
social  solidarity  of  the  clanmates.  The  symbol  as  well  as  the 
name  of  the  clan  are  derived  from  the  animal  or  plant  which 
happens  to  be  most  common  in  the  locality  where  the  clan 
congregates.  Totemic  rituals  arise  spontaneously,  as  a  direct 
expression  of  certain  wishes  regarding  the  food  supply,  and, 
whether  imitative  or  representative,  these  rituals  arouse 
pleasurable  sensations  in  the  participants  by  raising  their 
social  consciousness.  These  feelings  r r  satisfaction  are  pro- 
jected into  the  realm  of  physical  nature,  giving  rise  to  the 
belief  in  the  efficacy  of  the  ritual. 

The  unusual  experiences  accompanying  the  periodic  cere- 
monial gatherings,  when  contrasted  with  the  routine  hap- 
penings of  daily  life,  awaken  in  the  mind  of  the  totemite 
a  sense  of  the  sacred.  Not  being  aware  of  the  source  of  their 
exaltation,  the  individuals  of  the  clan -identify  the  sacred 
with  the  totemic  symbols  by  which  they  find  themselves 
surrounded  on  these  ritualistic  occasions.  The  true  content 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  369 

of  their  beliefs,  however,  consists  of  a  vague  undifferentiated 
sense  of  an  impersonal  totemic  principle,  prototype  of  mana; 
but,  unlike  mana,  the  totemic  principle,  instead  of  becoming 
generalized,  remains  associated  with  the  specific  characteris' 
tics  of  the  clans. 

The  totem  represented  in  the  symbol  partakes  of  its 
nature  and  sacred  character.  The  totemites  having  become 
identified  with  the  totem  the  name  of  which  they  bear,  are, 
as  such,  also  sacred.  The  entire  physical  universe  is  classi- 
fied in  accordance  with  the  phratries  and  clans,  and  the 
beings  and  objects  thus  classified  with  a  certain  totem  share 
its  sacred  character. 

Thus  totemism  must  be  regarded  as  a  religion  not  of  the 
clan  but  of  the  tribe,  each  clan  being  sympathetically  aware 
of  the  beliefs  and  practices  of  the  other  clans  which,  more- 
over, strictly  correspond  to  its  own. 

Individual  totemism  is  a  derivative  of  clan  totemism,  and 
sex  totemism  partakes  of  the  nature  of  both. 

The  individual  soul  is  an  incarnation  of  the  spiritual 
essence  of  a  totemic  ancestor.  The  souls  of  these  mythical 
totemic  personages  live  on  as  spirits,  the  more  prominent 
among  them  developing  into  tribal  gods. 

Thus  totemism  is  revealed  as  a  genuine  religion.  It  com- 
prises a  division  of  beings,  things  and  activities  into  sacred 
and  profane;  it  engenders  the  belief  in  souls,  spirits  and  gods; 
it  has  its  cosmology ;  and  its  elaborate  rituals  embrace  a  form 
of  sacrifice  and  ascetic  practices.  At  the  root  of  this  religion 
lies  the  belief  in  a  totemic  principle,  a  belief  which  expresses 
the  reaction  of  an  individual  psyche  to  its  experience  of  the 
social  control  exercised  by  the  clan.  Indeed,  the  totemic  prin- 
ciple is  the  clan.  Society  is  God.11 

To  Wundt  totemism  appears  of  interest  from  two  angles. 
He  places  the  origin  of  the  institution  in  the  period  when 
the  belief  in  a  breath  or  shadow  soul  became  differentiated 
from  the  earlier  belief  in  a  body  soul.  The  first  totem  ani- 
mals, therefore,  were  the  soul-animals, — hawk,  crow  and 
lizard  in  Australia;  «agle,  falcon  and  snake  in  America— in 


370  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

which  human  souls  were  deposited.12  As  a  culture  historian, 
on  the  other  hand,  Wundt  conceives  of  totemism  as  provid- 
ing the  sociopsychological  and  ideological  background  of 
nothing  less  than  a  "totemic  era,"  one  of  the  four  or  five 
great  culture  eras  into  which  the  history  of  mankind  can 
be  divided.18  With  the  totemic  era  Wundt  identifies  clan 
organization,  exogamy,  chieftainship,  animal  and  plant  cul- 
ture, nature  myths,  zoomorphic  and  phytomorphic  cults  and 
a  number  of  other  cultural  features.14 

And,  finally,  Freud's  theory  expounded  in  his  book, 
Totem  and  Taboo.  The  theory  runs,  in  brief,  as  follows: 
In  very  early  times,  before  there  was  any  definite  social 
organization  or  religion,  man  1  ved  in  so-called  Cyclopean 
families  in  which  all  the  sex  rights  were  monopolized  by 
the  dominant  old  man,  while  the  younger  men,  his  sons,  had 
to  submit  to  the  restrictions  imposed  by  him  or  be  killed 
or  expelled  from  the  group.  The  great  dominant  male,  the 
father,  was  revered  by  the  others  for  his  power  and  wisdom, 
but  he  was  also  hated  on  account  of  his  monopolistic  pre- 
rogatives. One  day  a  great  tragedy  was  enacted  in  such  a 
primitive  community.  The  brothers  banded  together — 
encouraged  perhaps,  adds  Freud,  by  the  invention  of  a 
new  weapon — and  dared  to  do  openly  together  what  each 
one  had  long  secretly  desired.  They  murdered  the  father. 
Then  they  consumed  his  body  in  the  assurance  of  thus 
acquiring  his  prowess. 

The  patricidal  act  having  been  committed,  the  sons,  tor- 
tured by  remorse,  reverted  to  a  positive  attitude  toward  the 
father.  Obsessed  by  a  belated  desire  to  be  obedient  to  him — 
"nachtraglicher  Gehorsam"— they  decided  to  continue  the 
taboo  the  oppressive  character  of  which  had  led  to  the  mur- 
der, arid  to  abstain  from  sex  contact  with  the  women  of  the 
group.  The  consciousness  of  common  guilt  became  the  root 
of  the  new  social  bond.  Thus  arose  the  clan,  protected  and  re- 
inforced by  the  taboo  on  killing  a  clanmate,  in  order  that 
the  fate  of  the  father  might  not  befall  any  of  the  brothers. 
The  totem  of  the  clan  is  therefore  but  a  transfigured  image 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  371 

of  the  father,  and  the  totemic  sacrifice,  an  occasion  for  both 
joy  and  sorrow,  but  a  dramatization  of  the  remote  tragedy  in 
which  the  jubiliant  brothers  murdered  their  despot  father, 
then,  conscience-stricken,  reimposed  upon  themselves  the 
oppressive  taboo  in  the  name  of  which  the  murder  had 
been  committed. 

Freud  goes  still  further.  In  the  central  setting  of  Greek 
tragedies  he  discovers  another  cultural  symbolization  of  the 
gruesome  event  of  earliest  antiquity.  The  hero's  part  is  to 
suffer,  for  he  is  but  the  dramatized  memory  of  the  murdered 
father,  whereas  the  responsive  chorus  stands  for  the  patri- 
cidal brothers.  In  this  new  setting,  however,  their  part  in 
the  original  tragedy  is  disguised  under  the  cloak  of  a  positive- 
attitude  toward  the  hero,  a  psychological  subterfuge  with 
which,  in  the  domain  of  the  individual  psyche,  psychoanaL 
ysis  has  made  us  familiar. 

Thus,  four  great  institutions  of  mankind  are  ultimate!) 
reducible  to  one  basic  and  pregnant  event,  a  common 
psycho-sociological  source.  Common  guilt  lay  at  the  root  of 
the  new  social  system,  the  clan,  primitive  Society.  The  con- 
sciousness of  guilt  expressed  itself  in  a  regard  for  the  totem- 
father,  the  earliest  Religion.  In  expiation  of  the  crime  came 
the  self-imposed  rule  of  exogamy,  primal  sex  taboo  and  the 
earliest  embodiment  of  Morality.  In  the  domain  of  Art, 
finally,  Greek  tragedy  reenacted  the  ancient  deed  in  an 
expiatory  disguise. 

Details  apart,  a  review  of  these  theories  leaves  one  with 
the  impression  that  when  we  say  "totemism"  we  have  said 
all  there  is  to  be  said  about  the  history  of  human  civilization. 
Give  the  speculator  a  thread  and  he  will  enmesh  the  world! 

No  systematic  analysis  of  totemic  theories  can  be  under- 
taken here.18  But  a  few  remarks  will  be  in  order  for  the 
sake  of  orientation. 

The  totemic  origin  theories  which  seek  the  first  origin 
of  totemism  in  some  one  of  its  features — name,  descent, 
zoolatry,  trade,  taboo,  magic  cooperation,  ideas  of  conception 
—all  suffer  from  dogmatic  one-sidedness.  With  reference  tt> 


THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 


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IN  SOCIAL  UNI 

374  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

a  particular  place  one  or  another  of  these  theories  may  prove 
correct,  but  no  ground  is  forthcoming  why  almost  any  of 
the  others  might  not  apply  at  sbme  other  place.  It  must  be 
granted,  however,  that  the  theories  stressing  the  totemic 
clan  name  come  nearer  to  the  essence  of  the  problem  than 
do  the  others.  Even  though  this  feature  is  not  universal 
in  totemic  complexes,  it  is  exceedingly  common  and  must 
have  provided  in  many,  if  not  most,  instances  the  link  be- 
tween the  mystical  and  the  social  elements  in  totemism. 
Through  the  name,  the  locus  and  limits  of  each  particular 
totemic  connection— a  particular  clan  with  a  particular 
totem — must  have  been  established,  in  numerous  cases. 

The  theories  stressing  the  role  of  totemism  in  religious 
evolution  are  in  the  wrong  in  so  far  as  they  overemphasize 
the  religious  aspect  of  totemism  and  assume  its  universality. 
This  stricture  applies  particularly  to  F.  B.  Jevons'  Introduc- 
tion to  the  History  of  Religion,  as  has  been  pointed  out  by 
L.  Marillier  in  his  brilliant  essay,  "La  place  du  totemisme 
dans  revolution  religieuse." 16  In  Durkheim's  sense,  totem- 
ism certainly  qualifies  as  a  religion,  a  tribal  not  a  clan 
religion,  for  it  belongs  to  the  domain  of  the  sacred,  not  the 
profane,  in  primitive  life.  But  it  must  never  be  forgotten  that 
the  intensity  of  the  religious  attitude  toward  the  totem  is 
scarcely  ever  pronounced;  also,  that  totemism,  in  no  instance, 
constitutes  the  whole  or  even  the  center  of  the  religious 
aspect  of  a  tribal  culture.  Animism,  ancestor  or  nature  wor- 
ship, fetichism,  idolatry,  or  even  animal  or  plant  worship, 
may  each  and  all  be  present  in  a  totemic  tribe,  side  by  side 
with  totemism.  Again,  any  of  these  features  may  become 
assimilated  with  a  totemic  complex  in  a  particular  place, 
so  as  to  form  an  integral  part  of  it,  or  they  may  not. 

There  is  even  something  contradictory  in  the  notion  of 
a  true  religious  regard  and  worship  in  connection  with 
totemism.  Primitives,  it  is  true,  have  not  as  yet  developed 
those  extreme  forms  of  religious  partisanship  and  pugnacity 
so  characteristic  of  later  historic  periods,  but  it  may  well  be 
doubted  whether  totemic  complexes  could  have  sailed  along 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  375' 

as  smoothly  as  they  have  if  each  family  were  divided  against 
itself  in  point  of  its  deepest  religious  attitudes.  Equivalence 
of  faith  and  practice  in  totemic  clans  and  relative  mildness 
?f  the  specifically  religious  attitude  seem  equally  important 
here. 

Writers  like  Wundt,  finally,  and  Lawrence  Gomme  in 
his  Folklore  as  a  Historical  Science,  who  speak  of  a  "totemic 
era"  and  the  like,  err  in  two  important  respects.  On  the  one 
hand,  they  once  more  assume  the  universality  of  totemism 
of  which,  to  say  the  least,  there  is  no  evidence.  On  the 
other,  they  identify  with  totemism,  genetically  or  as  historic 
coexistences,  a  variety  of  cultural  features  and  tendencies 1T 
which  have  nothing  whatsoever  to  do  with  totemism, 
either  psychologically  or  culturally  or  historically,  even 
though  they  will  occur  in  totemic  tribes  and  cultures. 

III.  TOTEMISM    AS   A  CONVERGENT  HISTORIC-PSYCHOLOGICAL 
COMPLEX 

By  contrast  with  the  older  theorists  of  totemism  who 
were,  as  a  rule,  concerned  with  the  similarity  and  unity  of 
totemic  phenomena,  my  own  preoccupation  in  Totemism, 
An  Analytical  Study  (1910)  was  with  the  diversity  of 
totemic  complexes  and  the  psychological  and  historical 
heterogeneity  of  the  features  entering  into  these  complexes. 

The  classified  features  of  four  totemic  complexes  (see 
Table,  pp.  372-3)  may  serve  as  an  example. 

Exogamy  among  the  Tlingit  and  Haida  is  a  phratry  af- 
fair: one  may  not  marry  in  one's  own  phratry  but  must 
marry  into  the  opposite  phratry.  The  clans  here  are  also 
exogamous  but  only  in  so  far  as,  being  subdivisions  of  a 
phratry,  they  partake  of  its  exogamic  nature.  In  Central 
Australia  the  exogamous  situation  is  much  more  complex. 
The  two  phratries  are  here  also  exogamous,  but  so  are  their 
subdivisions,  the  classes  (or,  in  the  more  northern  tribes, 
sub-classes  and  classes),  where  the  rule  is  that  a  class  (or  sub- 
class) of  one  phratry  must  intermarry  with  another  specific 
class  (or  sub-class)  of  the  other  phratry.  The  gentes  are, 


376  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

in  a  derivative  way,  also  exogamous,  although  exceptions 
occur  on  account  of  the  havoc  wrought  with  gentile  descent 
by  the  peculiar  local  theory  of  conception.  Over  and  above 
all  this,  certain  groupt  of  blood  relatives  are  taboo  to  each 
other  matrimonially  and  certain  others  must  intermarry. 
Such,  at  least,  is  the  orthodox  way.  Among  the  Baganda  the 
gentes  are  exogamous,  and  so  are  the  clans  at  Mabuiag, 
where  the  phratries  seem  to  have  been  exogamous  in  the 
past. 

In  re  group  names  the  phratries  of  the  Tlingit  and  Haida 
have  eponymous  crests,  not  so  the  component  clans  which 
are  known  by  local  names.  In  Central  Australia  where 
the  meaning  of  the  phratry  and  class  names  is  unknown — 
although  some  of  these  names  seem  to  have  been  those 
of  animals  or  birds — the  gentes  invariably  bear  the  name  of 
their  totem.  This  is  not  the  case  among  the  Baganda,  whereas 
at  Mabuiag  the  phratry  names  refer  in  one  or  another  way 
to  the  totem,  whereas  the  clans  bear  district  names. 

As  to  totemic  taboos,  these  are  absent  in  the  Indian  tribes 
— no  eating  or  killing  prohibitions  prevail — but  present  in 
the  three  other  groups.  Among  the  Baganda,  in  fact,  the 
totemic  taboo  is  preeminent  in  the  totemic  complex,  as 
among  many  other  Bantu  speaking  Negro  tribes  where 
the  native  term  for  "totem"  often  means  "that  which  is 
forbidden." 

The  idea  of  totemic  descent  prevails  in  Central  Australia, 
but  does  not  occur  either  in  the  Indian  tribes  or  in  Mabuiag. 
The  Baganda  gentes  trace  their  descent  from  a  common 
human  ancestor. 

The  Central  Australians  perform  magical  totemic  fer- 
tilization or  multiplication  rites  and  so  do  the  natives  of 
Mabuiag,  both  groups  falling  within  a  larger  area  where 
this  practice  is  common.  On  the  other  hand,  such  rites 
(with  reference  to  the  totems)  are  unknown  among  the 
Baganda  or  the  Tlingit  and  Haida. 

The  Central  Australians  regard  themselves  as  reincar- 
nations, after  a  fashion,  of  their  semi-human,  semi-animal 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  377 

totemic  ancestors.  In  ancient  alcheringa  times,  so  the  myths 
tell,  these  entered  the  ground  leaving  behind  their  spiritual 
descendants,  the  ratapa,  which  ever  since  hover  about  the 
sacred  spots.  It  is  the  ratapa  which  enter  the  bodies  of 
women  to  be  reborn  as  human  totemites.  In  the  other  three 
groups  no  such  totemic  beliefs  are  known  to  occur. 

Totemic  art  in  Mabuiag  takes  the  form  of  small  orna- 
ments or  scarifications  on  the  body;  the  Baganda  seems 
to  have  none ;  whereas  among  the  Indians,  on  the  one  hand, 
and  the  Central  Australians,  on  the  other,  totemic  art 
appears  in  two  strikingly  diverse  forms.  The  Tlingit  and 
Haida  paint  and  carve  their  totem  animals  and  birds  pretty 
much  all  over  the  landscape.  These  paintings  and  carv- 
ings, moreover,  are  so  specific  for  each  animal  or  bird 
that  no  doubt  can  be  entertained  as  to  the  identity  of  the 
representation.  In  Central  Australia,  on  the  contrary,  the 
totemic  designs — whether  on  the  churinga  or  on  the  ground 
— are  identical  for  all  gentes  (with  a  few  exceptions),  the 
specific  totemic  reference  of  the  designs  being  read  into 
them  by  the  gentile  mates  whenever  they  make  use  of 
them. 

In  Mabuiag  the  totemite  and  his  totem  are  of  a  kind: 
a  "mystic  affinity"  obtains  between  them,  which  expresses 
itself  in  physical  and  psychic  resemblance.  Thus  the  men 
of  the  Kassowary,  Crocodile,  Snake  and  Shark  clans — pug- 
nacious animals  all — are  known  as  fighters,  whereas  the 
Skate,  Ray  and  Sucker — fish  people,  are  peaceable;  and  so 
on  with  the  rest.  In  the  other  three  groups  the  totem  and 
totemite  are  not  thus  attuned  to  each  other. 

The  rank  grading  of  totem  crests  and,  with  them,  of  the 
clans  that  own  them,  occurs  only  among  the  Tlingit  and 
Haida  and  the  royal  gentes  of  the  Baganda,  not  in  the 
other  groups.  The  number  of  crests  or  totems  allowed  each 
clan  or  gens,  as  will  be  seen  from  the  Table,  also  varies 
in  the  four  groups. 

There  is  thus  considerable  variability  in  content  in 
totemic  complexes.  And  if  instead  of  taking  four  groups, 


378  THEMAKINGOFMAN 

we  examined  forty  or  four  hundred,  the  range  of  variability 
would  increase.  The  particular  features  entering  a  totemic 
complex  are  not  always  the  same,  nor  is  the  part  they  play 
in  the  ideology  or  practice  of  the  totemites. 

It  is  equally  apparent  that  the  individual  features  figur- 
ing in  totemic  complexes  are  not  inherently  and  necessarily 
totemic.  This  applies  to  all  the  features.  We  know  of 
totemic  exogamy,  but  it  also  occurs  in  clans,  gentes  or 
phratries  that  are  not  totemic,  as  well  as  in  families,  local 
groups  and  elsewhere.  Similarly  with  taboos.  Killing  and 
eating  taboos  may  or  may  not  refer  to  totemic  animals,  in 
one  or  another  group,  but  they  also  occur  with  reference 
to  creatures  other  than  totems.  Killing  and  eating  taboos, 
moreover,  constitute  only  one  aspect  of  the  phenomenon 
of  taboo  which  is  world-wide.  As  cultural  traits,  taboo  and 
totemism  merely  overlap.  The  same  applies  to  the  other 
features. 

What  we  mean,  therefore,  when  we  say  that  totemism 
is  historically  and  psychologically  complex  is  this.  The 
features  entering  a  totemic  complex  are  not  inherently 
totemic  but  become  such  in  the  particular  context.  As  be- 
tween complex  and  complex,  the  particular  features  com- 
posing one,  vary.  Also,  the  emphasis,  the  cultural  or  totemic 
status  of  a  feature,  varies  as  one  passes  from  complex  to 
complex. 

This  does  not  mean  that  all  totemic  features  are  equally 
rare,  or  common,  in  their  occurrence.  Far  from  it.  An  ex- 
amination of  a  sufficient  number  of  totemic  complexes 
will  show  that  exogamy,  in  one  form  or  another,  is  almost 
always  present.  Also,  that  a  relation  between  humans  and 
the  rest  of  nature,  especially  animals  and  plants,  is  involved 
here.  It  may  take  the  form  of  a  "mystic  affinity,"  or  a  belief 
in  descent,  or  a  taboo  on  the  totem,  or  a  mere  eponymous 
function  of  the  latter  without  any  associated  beliefs  or 
practices  with  reference  to  it.  It  must  be  remembered, 
however,  that  the  very  assumption  of  an  animal  or  other 
such  name  by  a  group  or  its  acceptance  of  one  given  it  by 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  379 

others,  implies  a  certain  ideological,  if  not  emotional,  rela- 
tionship between  humans  and  the  rest  of  nature.  This  is  a 
phenomenon  not  unknown  in  modern  days  but  incom- 
parably more  common,  and  therefore,  more  characteristic, 
in  primitive  society.  As  a  background  we  discover  a  Denl^ 
art,™  a  certain  way  of  looking  at  things  which  makes  such 
developments  as  totemism  possible. 

In  addition  to  exogamy  and  a  certain  relationship  be- 
tween man  and  nature,  the  latter  usually  taking  a  mystical 
form,  there  is  still  another  aspect  of  totemic  complexes 
which,  in  this  case,  is  universal.  In  every  totemic  com- 
munity the  tribal  group  is  divided  into  a  set  of  social  units 
which  are  equivalent.  The  totemic  functions  of  these  social 
units,  while  different  specifically,  are  also  equivalent  or 
homologous,  as  between  upit  and  unit.  It  seems  obvious  that 
any  attempt  to  find  a  general  formula  for  totemism  must 
rest  on  these  three  features. 

Before  we  venture  on  such  a  final  formulation,  a  word 
must  be  said  about  totemism  as  a  convergent  phenomenon. 
The  "origins"  of  historical  facts  of  totemic  complexes,  as 
must  have  appeared  from  the  preceding,  must  be  assumed 
to  have  been  varied.  Nevertheless,  totemic  complexes  reveal 
sufficient  similarities  in  their  structure,  contents,  and  what 
might  be  called  their  psycho-sociological  flavor,  to  justify 
the  designation  of  such  complexes  by  one  descriptive  term. 
The  hypothesis  of  convergence  reconciles  this  present  sim- 
ilarity with  genetic  divinity.  The  theory  of  convergence 
may,  in  fact,  be  utilized  to  account  for  the  distinct  aspects 
of  totemic  complexes;  the  separate  features  in  two  or  more 
complexes,  in  so  far  as  they  are  comparable,  must  have  often 
been  due  to  convergence,  for  the  objective  and  psychological 
history  of  such  features  must,  in  many  instances,  have  been 
quite  different.  Again  the  totemic  social  structures  with 
their  features,  which  as  a  rule  are  strictly  comparable,  must 
be  ascribed  to  convergence,  for  the  order  and  specific  mode 
of  absorption  of  the  features  by  the  system,  or  their  origin 
within  the  system,  must  also  have  been  vastly  different  in 


380  THfc    MAKING    OF    MAN 

the  several  instances;  the  totemic  association  in  a  con- 
vergent process.  And,  finally,  the  totemization  of  the  com- 
plexes, the  translation  of  the  features  of  whatever  derivation 
into  totemic  terms,  must  be  regarded  as  a  convergent 
process,  which  operates  in  the  core  of  each  complex  with 
a  psychologically  lactogeneous  aggregate  of  cultural  fea- 
tures, and  through  a  process  of  assimilation  mold  them 
into  a  totemic  atmosphere  providing  all  totemic  complexes 
and  constituting,  perhaps,  the  prime  basis  of  their  com- 
parability: the  totemic  assimilation  is  a  convergent  process. 

IV.   FINAL   SYNTHESIS 

Exogamy,  a  mystical  man-nature  relationship,  and  the 
splitting  up  of  a  tribe  into  a  set  of  equivalent  and  func- 
tionally homologous  social  unit*  are,  one  and  all,  traits 
appearing  in  totemism  but  also  outside  of  it:  they  are  not 
inherently  totemic  features.  Also,  these  features  cannot  be 
brought  into  genetic  relationship  to  each  other,  nor  are 
they  in  any  other  way  akin,  socio-psychologically  or  other- 
wise. But  these  are  the  features  which  we  find  associated 
in  totemism  and  about  them  grow  up  the  other  varying 
features. 

How  can  this  be  accounted  for? 

The  solution  of  the  problem  apparently  lies  in  the  fact 
that  the  three  features  become  connected  with  the  social 
structures  underlying  totemic  complexes:  with  sib  systems. 
For,  once  and  for  all,  it  must  bj  understood  that  totemism 
or  likenesses  of  it  are  so  rare  outside  sib  systems  and  that 
sib  systems  are  so  frequently  totemic  that  the  two  institu- 
tions, sib  system  on  totemism,  must  be  regarded  as  ad- 
hesive phenomena,  in  Tylor's  sense. 

Is  there  then  anything  about  a  sib  system  that  would 
attend  exogamy,  a  mystical  man-nature  relationship  and 
an  emphatic  functional  homology  of  equivalent  social  units? 
I  think  there  is. 

That  exogamy  and  functional  homology  of  social  units 
are  prone  to  prosper  in  a  sib  system  of  hereditary  unilateral 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  381 

social  units  seems  fairly  clear.  If  exogamous  tendencies  are 
taken  for  granted — as  this  anthropological  experience  jus- 
tifies us  in  doing — clans  or  gentes  appear  as  its  ideal 
carriers.  Once  on  the  go,  it  persists  and  crystallizes  auto- 
matically. As  to  homologous  functions  these  always  tend 
to  develop  in  equivalent  social  units,  and  when  these  social 
units  are  as  clean  cut  and  stable  as  they  are  in  hereditary 
unilateral  sibs,  the  homologous  functions  are  invited  and 
spurred  to  multiply. 

The  problem  is  more  complex  in  the  case  of  the  mystical 
man-nature  relationship.  Why  should  this  be  attracted  to 
sib  systems?  The  reason,  I  believe,  can  be  discovered. 

In  a  community  subdivided  into  social  units,  such  as 
clans,  the  first  demand  is  for  some  kind  of  classifiers,  pref- 
erably names,  which  would  identify  the  separate  units  and 
yet  signify  their  equivalence  by  belonging  to  one  category. 
Again,  hereditary  kinship  groups,  such  as  clans,  with  a 
strong  feeling  of  common  interest  and  solidarity  tend,  so 
socio-psychological  experience  shows,  to  project  their  com- 
munity spirit  into  some  concrete  thing  which  henceforth 
stands  for  the  unity  of  the  group  and  readily  acquires  a  cer- 
tain halo  of  sanctity.  It  often  happens  with  such  objects 
that  certain  rules  of  behavior  develop  with  reference  to 
them,  both  positive  and  negative  rules,  prescriptions  and 
restrictions.  Such  objects  thus  become  symbols  of  the  social 
values  of  the  groups.  Their  very  objectivity  as  well  as  emo- 
tional significance  lend  themselves  readily  to  artistic  elab- 
oration. All  along  the  classificatory  aspects  remains  a  fixed 
requirement,  so  that  whatever  traits  may  develop  in  the 
social  crucible  appear  as  homologous  traits.  Then  again, 
the  sense  of  kinship  between  members  of  the  individual 
clans,  especially  in  view  of  the  absence  of  precise  degrees 
of  relationship  and  sometimes  supported  by  the  genealogi- 
cal tendency,  will  often  express  itself  in  hypothetical  descent 
from  a  common  ancestor.  Also,  it  would  obviously  fit  "the 
needs  of  the  situation  if  the  above  objectivations  of  the 
social  values  consisted  of  things  congenial  to  man,  the 


382  THEMAKINGOFMAN 

properties  of  which  were  near  and  dear  to  him,  of  things^ 
however,  that  would  not  lie  too  closely  within  the  realm 
of  specifically  human  activities,  as,  in  such  a  case,  con- 
fusion might  result,  the  sense  of  property  might  interfere 
with  the  smooth  running  of  the  system.  Again,  it  would 
seem  eminently  desirable  that  the  things  should  belong  to 
classes,  each  one  representing  a  homogeneous  group,  as 
:his  condition  would  ideally  satisfy  the  requirement  that 
they  figure  as  symbols  and  objectivations  of  groups  of 
individuals  who,  within  each  group,  profess  intense  feelings 
of  solidarity  and  homogeneity. 

Such,  in  rough  outline,  would  be  the  tendencies  of  a 
community  subdivided  into  clans. 

Now,  if  the  individuals  who  are  the  psychic  foci  of 
these  tendencies  had  nothing  in  their  experience  or  psychic 
content  to  draw  upon  to  satisfy  the  demands  of  the  situ- 
ation, some  new  creations  might  be  expected  to  appear 
which  would  to  some  extent  satisfy  the  demands  of  these 
social  tendencies.  But  our  hypothesis  is  contrary  to  fact. 
For  there  exists  in  all  primitive  communities  a  complex 
of  experiences  and  attitudes  which  has  produced  values  nf 
just  the  sort  needed  in  the  above  social  situation,  has  pro- 
duced them  long  before  any  totemic  complex  or  any  clan 
system  has  made  its  appearance  among  men.  That  com- 
plex comprises  the  experiences  resulting  from  man's  con- 
tact with  nature  and  the  attitudes  flowing  therefrom. 
Among  these  the  experiences  with  and  the  attitudes  toward 
.animals  occupy  the  foremost  place,  although  those  referring 
to  plants  and  inanimate  objects  are  of  almost  equal  signifi- 
cance. Things  in  nature  have  at  all  times  exercised  multi- 
tudinous functions  in  human  society,  and  the  attitudes 
they  have  aroused,  matter-of-fact  as  well  as  supernatural 
attitudes,  range  as  far  as  does  man  himself.  These  things, 
animals  in  particular,  are  constantly  used  for  naming  pur- 
poses, for  naming  individuals;  groups  of  all  varieties,  such 
as  families,  societies,  clubs,  game  teams,  political  parties, 
houses,  constellations.  They  are  beautifully  adjusted  to  the 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  383 

function  of  classifiers,  as  names  or  otherwise,  for  they  con- 
tain many  individuals  belonging  to  the  same  or  to  several 
wide  categories,  they  are  familiar  and  congenial  to  man, 
yet  lie  outside  the  circle  of  specifically  human  things  and 
activities,  thus  not  being  subject  to  the  action  of  those 
disturbing  agencies  which  abound  within  that  realm.  Again, 
animals,  as  well  as  other  things  in  nature,  are  early  drawn 
into  the  domain  of  art,  they  are  painted,  tattooed,  carved, 
woven,  embroidered,  dramatized  in  dances;  they  figure  in 
realistic  as  well  as  geometric  representations,  thus  also  ris- 
ing into  prominence  as  badges,  signs  and  symbols.  Primitive 
man  almost  everywhere  regards  himself  as  somewhat  akin 
to  the  animal,  and  many  mythologies  abound  in  animals 
that  were  men  and  in  men  who  are  metamorphosed  ani- 
mals. Often  descent  is  traced  from  animals.  Again,  it  is 
hard  to  find  a  tribe  where  some  sort  of  prescriptive  or 
prescriptive  rules  do  not  exist  referring  to  animals,  or  also 
plants  or  other  things.  Religious  attitudes  toward  things  in 
nature  are  as  universal  as  religion  itself.  Moreover,  to  the 
eyes  of  men  organized  into  mutually  disparate  and  in- 
ternally homogeneous  units,  the  kingdom  of  animals  and 
only  to  a  less  degree  that  of  plants  present  a  spectacle  oi 
strange  congeniality:  for  just  as  in  their  own  social  system, 
these  kingdoms  embrace  beings  or  things  that  belong  to 
the  same  general  kind,  but  are  subdivided  into  categories 
that  are  disparate  while  internally  homogeneous. 

Now,  it  must  be  remembered  that  all  of  these  experi- 
ences, relations  and  attitudes  belong  to  the  range  of  the 
common  human:  they  are  found  in  most  primitive  com- 
munities and  many  of  them  reach  far  into  the  historic 
period  including  modern  life  itself.  Hence  a  community 
organized  into  definite  hereditary  social  units,  say,  clans, 
finds  itself  already  in  possession  of  most  or  all  of  these 
experiences  and  attitudes.  But  we  have  seen  how  in  such 
a  community,  on  account  of  its  sociological  make-up,  cer- 
tain tendencies  must  and,  as  experience  shows,  almost  in- 
variably do  arise.  These  tendencies  point  toward  just  such 


THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

relations,  attitudes,  functions,  as  we  have  seen  have  every- 
where arisen  out  of  man's  experience  with  nature,  par- 
ticularly with  animals  and  only  to  a  less  degree  with  plants. 
If  these  cultural  features — for  such  they  are — were  not 
there,  the  social  situation  might  have  created  them,  or 
something  like  them.  But  they  are  there.  Hence,  the  de- 
mands of  the  social  situation  are  readily  satisfied  out  of 
this  rich  store  of  preexisting  psychological  material.  The 
precise  how  and  when  of  the  process  is  another  story,  nor 
does  it  particularly  matter.  The  crucial  and  significant  point 
is  this:  a  group  divided  into  hereditary  clans  spontaneously 
develops  tendencies  the  limiting  value  of  which  is  a  totemic 
complex.  For  the  realization  of  these  tendencies  certain 
psychological  or  cultural  data  are  required.  These  are  found 
available.  In  a  situation  which,  were  they  absent,  might 
have  itself  created  them,  they  are  utilized  promptly  and 
effectively.  Thus  a  totemic  complex  arises. 

It  will  thus  be  seen  that  there  exists  an  inherent  and 
most  deep-rooted  fitness  between  the  supernaturalism  re- 
ferred to  before,  the  mystical  man-nature  relationship,  and 
the  social  system  which  absorbs  it.  It  is,  then,  to  be  expected 
that  the  vast  majority  of  groups  divided  into  hereditary 
social  units  will  develop  some  sort  of  totemic  complexes. 
And  such  is  found  to  be  the  case.19 

To  summarize:  Exogamy,  a  mystical  man-nature  rela- 
tionship and  functional  homology  of  equivalent  social  units 
become  associated  in  totemism  by  adopting  a  sib  system  as 
their  carrier.  And  they  adopt  a  sib  system  as  their  carrier 
because  such  a  system  is  admirably  fitted  to  become  a 
vehicle  for  the  crystallization  and  enhancement  of  these 
Jeatures. 

V.  TOTEMIC  COMPLEXES   AND  RELIGIOUS   SOCIETIES 

Totemic  communities,  as  complexes  of  historically  and 
psychologically  heterogeneous  features,  display  certain  strik- 
ing similarities  to  another  form  of  socio-religious  associa- 
tion fairly  common  in  primitive  groups,  namely,  religious 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  385 

societies.  A  religious  society  is  a  group  of  individuals  who 
have  a  common  name  (often  derived  from  an  animal,  bird, 
or  thing),  share  a  set  of  religious  and  mythological  beliefs, 
and  perform  together  certain  ceremonies.  Where  the  socie- 
ties occur,  there  are  always  more  than  one  society  in  the 
tribe,  while  often  a  large  part  of  the  tribesmen  may  be 
grouped  in  societies  either  permanently  or,  as  among  the 
Kwakiutl,  periodically.  While  male  societies  are  more  com- 
mon, female  societies  also  occur,  but  the  membership  of  a 
society  is  almost  invariably  restricted  to  either  one  or  the 
other  sex.  The  geographical  distribution  of  religious  so- 
cieties suggests  some  relation  to  totemism.  In  a  large  number 
of  totemic  areas  religious  societies  also  occur;  for  example, 
in  several  large  areas  in  North  America,  in  at  least  one 
area  in  South  America,  in  West  Africa  and  Northern 
Melanesia. 

On  the  basis  of  his  Melanesian  studies  W.  H.  R.  Rivers 
came  to  the  conclusion  that  in  Mota  (one  of  the  Banks 
Islands),  the  religious  societies  developed  out  of  a  pre- 
existing totemism  which  was,  as  it  were,  sucked  up  into 
these  societies.20  Hutton  Webster 21  went  further,  repre- 
senting secret  societies,  in  all  areas,  as  totemism  in  decay.  In 
this  version  the  societies  appear  as  a  normal  stage  of  evolu- 
tion from  totemism  to  other  forms  of  socio-religious  or- 
ganization. 

In  this  sweeping  form  the  theory  must  certainly  be  re- 
jected but  it  may  nevertheless  contain  a  germ  of  truth. 
In  individual  instances — in  Mota,  for  example,  or,  perhaps, 
in  the  American  Southwest — religious  societies  may  actu- 
ally have  developed  in  this  way.  Also,  the  two  institutions, 
resting  against  a  similar  socio-psychological  and  ideological 
background,  must  certainly  be  regarded  as  compatible,  even 
though  not  genetically  linked,  except  incidentally.  The  case 
of  the  Southern  Kwakiutl  is  instructive  here,  among  whom 
societies  or  totemic  clans  alternate:  in  the  summer  (the 
profane  season)  the  clans  constitute  the  social  organization; 
whereas  in  the  winter  (the  season  of  the  secrets)  these  are 


;8o  THE  MAKING  OF  MAN 

replaced  or,  more  accurately,  overshadowed  by  a  system  ot 

religious  societies.  One  would  not  expect  such   periodic 

fluctuation  between  a  system  of  clans,  and,  say,  one  of 

castes. 

Of  even  greater  interest  than  the  geographical  and  the 
possible  genetic  relations  of  totemism  and  societies,  are 
the  similarities  and  contrasts  between  the  two  institutions 
from  a  theoretical  standpoint.  In  both  cases  the  tribe  com- 
prises a  set  of  homologous  social  units;  these  unit^  exer- 
cise functions — ceremonial,  religious,  artistic — similar  in 
kind  but  differing  specifically  in  each  clan  or  society.  These 
functions,  finally,  cluster  about  or  grow  out  of  certain 
mystical  attitudes  towards  creatures  or  objects  in  nature, 
the  latter  feature,  however,  being  more  nearly  characteristic 
of  totemism  than  it  is  of  societies.  In  both  cases,  moreover, 
the  institution — a  totemic  complex  or  a  cluster  of  societies 
—must  be  regarded  as  an  alloy  of  historically  and  psycho- 
logically disparate  traits. 

The  similarity,  from  a  theoretical  angle,  thus  seems  to 
be  so  close  as  almost  to  approach  identity.  But  the  con- 
trasts are  equally  significant.  While  a  society,  like  a  clan, 
is  a  social  unit,  it  is  one  solely  by  dint  of  the  common 
functions  of  its  members.  Take  away  the  functions  and 
nothing  remains  but  an  aggregate  of  wholly  disparate 
individuals.  Not  so  in  the  clan.  Here  also  the  functions 
give  the  true  cultural  orientation  of  the  social  unit,  but 
should  the  functions  lapse,  the  unit  remains;  for  a  clan 
consists  of  related  individuals  (de  facto  or  de  jure) — it 
is  a  group  of  status,  whereas  a  society  is  a  purely  functional 
group.  While  this  contrast  is,  perhaps,  most  important, 
other  differences  are  not  lacking.  The  religious  aspect  is 
almost  invariably  more  pronounced  in  a  society  than  in  a 
totemic  clan.  Societies,  as  we  saw,  are  largely  unisexual,  but 
not  clans:  a  totemic  complex  with  its  supporting  skeleton 
of  clans  necessarily  comprises  all  the  individuals  of  the 
tribe,  whereas  a  tribal  cluster  of  societies  at  best  includes 
some  of  the  women  and  never  more  than  a  majority  of 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  387 

the  men.  This,  of  course,  flows  from  the  fact  that  a  clan  ij 
a  hereditary  unit,  part  of  the  tribal  social  system,  whereas 
a  society  is  merely  a  part  of  a  social  system  within  the 
tribe,  even  though  some  societies  may  tend  to  become 
hereditary  or  comprise  hereditary  officials. 

While  the  two  institutions — totemism  and  religious  so- 
cieties— present,  from  a  theoretical  standpoint,  a  set  ot 
similar  problems,  it  seems  imperative  to  keep  them  apart 
conceptually  as  well  as  for  purposes  of  investigation.22 

VI.  THE  PATTERN  THEORY  OF  TOTEMIC  ORIGIN 

It  will  be  seen  that  any  attempt  to  derive  totemism  from 
any  one  of  its  features  is  doomed  to  failure.  If  the  his- 
toric facts  were  known  in  a  particular  instance,  one  of  the 
theories  might  prove  to  be  correct.  But  so  might  any  of 
several  others,  in  other  particular  instances.  Generalization 
here  would  be  vain  and  futile.  It  may,  on  the  other  hand, 
be  of  interest  to  inquire  whether  we  could  not  go  a  step 
further  in  attempting  to  visualize  the  process  through  which 
any  totemic  complex  might  have  come  into  being. 

Let  us  remember,  then,  that  in  all  totemic  communities 
we  find  a  group  differentiated  into  clans  which  display 
sets  of  totemic  features  different  in  specific  content  but 
homologous  in  form  and  function.  Can  it  be  conceived 
that  these  features  developed  in  the  different  clans  inde- 
pendently? When  one  considers  that  the  clans  of  a  totemic 
organization  are  so  interwoven  as  to  constitute,  to  all  ap- 
pearance, an  integral  system;  and  that  the  homology  of 
the  clans  is  objectively,  for  the  observer,  as  well  as  sub- 
jectively, for  the  totemite,  the  most  patent  fact  about  a 
totemic  organization,  one  cannot  but  realize  that  any  such 
series  of  independent  developments  lies  entirely  beyond 
the  range  of  probability.  But  if  the  assumption  of  the  in- 
dependent development  of  totemic  clan  features  is  rejected, 
we  must  accept  the  only  alternative  assumption  of  a  process 
of  diffusion.  On  the  other  hand,  the  totemic  features  can- 
not be  regarded  as  a  contemporaneous  growth;  as  regards 


388  THEMAKINGOFMAN 

the  order  of  their  appearance  in  a  totemic  complex,  the 
features  must  be  conceived  of  as  a  temporal  series.  Guided 
by  these  two  assumptions,  we  may  now  visualize  the  totemic 
process  at  an  extremely  early  stage  of  its  growth.  The 
tribe  is  differentiated  into  a  number  of  social  units  or 
clans.  The  psychic  atmosphere  (Thurnwald's  Denfari)  is 
saturated  with  totemic  possibilities.  The  stage  is  set  for  a 
first  origin  of  totemism.  Most  totemic  origin  theories  may 
claim  the  right  of  supplying  one,  but  it  is  not  with  them 
we  are  here  concerned.  The  first  origin — animal  name, 
taboo,  sacred  animal,  myth  of  descent — is  assumed  to  have 
occurred  in  one,  or  in  a  few,  of  the  clans.  Still  there  is  no 
totemism.  But  presently,  with  the  psychological  conditions 
remaining  favorable,  another  clan  adopts  the  feature.  Then 
another,  and  another.  Finally,  all  the  clans  have  it.  The 
features  in  the  various  clans  are  not  identical  but  they 
are  equivalent,  and  they  become  specific  clan  character- 
istics— become  socialized.  The  totemic  process  has  begun.28 
In  the  same  way  other  features  begin  to  develop.  They 
may  arise  in  one  or  another  clan  through  "inner"  growth, 
or  they  may  come  from  the  outside,  through  contact  with 
other  tribes.  No  sooner  is  a  new  feature  evolved  or  adopted 
by  a  clan  than  it  starts  on  its  round  of  diffusion  until  all 
the  clans  have  incorporated  it.  Thus  the  totemic  organi- 
zation grows  and  increases  in  complexity.  Meanwhile,  each 
feature  in  a  clan  stands  for  functional  solidarity,  and  as 
the  number  of  features  multiplies,  the  solidarity  increases. 
On  the  other  hand,  the  homology  of  the  clans  also  gains 
in  complexity  and  completeness,  and  the  realization  of  such 
homology,"  at  first  no  doubt  unconscious,  may  tend  to  rise 
into  the  consciousness  of  the  totemites.  It  need  not  be 
assumed  that  a  new  feature  always  appears  in  the  same 
clan,  but  it  does  not  seem  improbable  that  such  a  tendency 
should  develop.  One  or  a  few  clans  may  thus  assume  the 
function  of  setting  totemic  fashion. 

In  the  early  days  of  a  totemic  complex  the  diffusion 
of  a  new  feature  throughout  the  clan  system  must  be  a 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  389 

slow  process.  Biu  as  each  clan  consolidates  tnrough  the 
continuous  superposition  of  common  functions,  and  as  the 
equivalence  of  the  clans  progresses  with  the  addition  of 
every  new  feature  with  reference  to  which  the  clans  become 
homologous,  this  process  of  diffusion  must  become  in- 
creasingly rapid  and  smooth.  As  feature  upon  feature 
spring  up  in  one  or  another  clan,  their  spread  to  other 
clans  becomes  a  traditionally  approved  procedure,  and  the 
course  and  direction  of  the  diffusion  may  also  become  fixed 
and  stereotyped. 

The  central  point  of  the  above  theory  of  the  origin  of 
totemism  lies  in  the  conception  that  the  building  up  of  a 
totemic  complex  consists  of  a  series  of  totemic  features 
which  appear  one  by  one  (or  possibly  in  small  groups), 
spread  from  clan  to  clan,  become  socialized  in  the  clans 
and  absorbed  in  the  complex.  Each  new  feature,  on  its  ap- 
pearance in  a  clan,  becomes  a  pattern  presently  followed 
by  other  clans  until  the  wave  of  diffusion  has  swept  over 
them  all.  The  theory  may  thus  be  fitly  called  the  pattern 
theory  of  the  origin  of  totemism.  It  may  be  regarded  as  a 
compromise  between  the  views  of  those  whose  thirst  for 
interpretations  cannot  be  quenched  by  anything  save  a 
first  origin,  and  the  views  of  those  who  do  not  believe  in 
any  hypothetical  reconstructions.  Attempts  at  reconciliation 
by  compromise  are  seldom  successful  in  science,  and  the 
theory  seems  to  be  doomed  to  rejection  by  both  camps. 
I  may  therefore  be  permitted  to  emphasize  the  two  aspects 
of  the  theory  which,  to  my  mind,  should  commend  it  to 
the  attention  of  totemizing  ethnologists.  Being  convinced 
that  the  search  for  first  origins  is  a  vain  pursuit,  I  eliminate 
from  my  theory  all  assumption  as  to  the  specific  character 
of  the  first  origin  of  a  totemic  complex.  I  simplv  assume 
one.  The  second  important  aspect  of  the  theory  is  the  con- 
ception of  the  waves  of  diffusion  through  which  each  new 
feature  is  assimilated  by  the  complex.  This  conception  is 
purely  hypothetical,  that  is,  it  cannot  be  substantiated  by 
anything  we  know  as  actually  occurring  in  totemic  corn 


390  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

plexes,  but  it  is  supported  by  what  we  know  of  the  psy- 
chology of  social  processes.  It  seems,  in  fact,  to  formulate 
the  only  way  in  which  a  totemic  complex  can  come  into 
being. 

The  theory  offers  a  ready  explanation  of  various  totemic 
'''anomalies."  When  one  finds  thak  one  totemic  community 
has  only  animal  totems  and  another  only  bird  totems,  the 
tendency  is  to  look  for  deep-rooted  causes.  It  cannot,  of 
course,  be  denied  that  some  peculiarity  in  the  environment 
or  beliefs  of  the  group  may  lead  to  such  special  develop- 
ments. The  explanation,  however,  may  also  lie  in  the  fact 
that  in  one  community  a  few  animal  names,  adopted  by 
several  clans,  fixed  the  pattern,  which  was  followed  by  the 
other  clans;  while  in  another  instance,  the  same  occurred 
with  bird  names.  In  still  other  numerous  instances  the 
character  of  the  names  did  not  become  stereotyped  until 
some  animal,  bird,  and  plant  names  were  taken,  resulting 
in  the  distribution  of  names  most  frequently  found  in 
:otemic  communities.  Double  totems,  as  among  the  Baganda, 
or  linked  quadruple  totems,  as  among  the  Massim  of  New 
Guinea,  can  be  accounted  for  along  the  same  lines.  Not 
that  the  double  or  quadruple  totems  need  be  assumed  to 
have  constituted  the  primary  conditions  in  these  commu- 
nities. In  the  early  stages  of  their  development  these  totemic 
complexes  may  have  had  the  normal  one-clan  one-totem 
aspect.  But  presently  some  unconventional  "cause"  doubled 
the  totems  in  one  or  a  few  clans;  other  clans  followed 
suit;  and  so  on.24 

VII.  TOTEMIC  ANALOGUES  IN   MODERN  SOCIETY 

Evidence  is  not  lacking  that  mystical  and  social  features, 
once  components  of  totemism,  persist  in  modern  society, 
if  in  less  integrated  form. 

Of  all  things  in  nature,  animals,  both  wild  and  tame, 
stand  closest  to  us,  and  we  find  it  difficult  not  to  think  of 
them  in  anthropomorphic  terms.  Similarities  of  physical 
and  psychic  traits  in  man  and  animal  are  stressed  in  verbal 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  3QI 

usage.  We  speak  of  the  eagle  eye,  the  leonine  heart,  the 
bull's  neck,  dogged  perseverance.  The  fox  and  beaver,  bear 
and  rabbit,  cat  and  cow,  hog  and  ass,  ape  and  shark,  all 
figure  in  our  scene  in  human  disguise.  The  layman  and  the 
amateur  naturalist  as  well  find  it  difficult  not  to  ascribe 
to  animals  qualities  of  intellect,  affection,  understanding, 
sensitiveness,  vastly  in  excess  of  what  sober  judgment  would 
allow. 

While  our  attitude  here  is  not  strictly  mystical,  it  leans 
dangerously  in  that  direction. 

Similarly  with  social  tendencies.  In  modern  as  in  primi- 
tive, society,  equivalent  social  units  are  known  to  adopt 
as  classifiers  names,  badges,  pins,  flags,  tattoo  marks,  colors. 
One  thinks  of  high-school  and  college  classes,  baseball  and 
football  teams,  political  parties,  the  degrees  of  Elks  and 
Masons,  and  the  regiments  of  our  armies. 

The  names  and  things  thus  used  as  classifiers  rest  against 
a  background  charged  with  potential  emotion.  In  the  case 
of  regimental  banners  the  emotional  heat  can,  on  occasion 
become  intense.  Even  the  animal  or  bird  mascots  cultivated 
by  military  units  become,  under  appropriate  conditions, 
such  as  war,  immersed  in  a  complex  of  attitudes  and 
rites  so  exotic  as  to  suggest  an  exaggerated  analogy  with 
totemism. 

In  one  form  or  another  the  mystic  and  social  tendencies 
of  totemic  days  linger  on  in  modern  society.  But  we  miss 
them  on  its  highways.  Here  and  there,  under  specially 
favorable  conditions,  these  tendencies  may  flare  up  in  a  sort 
of  totemic  glow,  presently  to  go  out  again,  for  lack  of  fuel. 
In  primitive  society  the  same  tendencies,  quickened  and 
integrated  by  their  association  with  sib  systems,  reach  great 
heights  of  complexity  and  elaboration. 

NOTES 

1  Man,  1902. 

2 The  Origin  of  Totemism,  1901. 

8  Golden  Bough,  vol.  ii. 

*  Totemism  and  Exogamy,  vol.  L 


392  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

*Zeitschrift  fiir  Ethnologic,  vol.  xli,  1909. 

6  Presidential  Address  to  the  Anthropological  Section,  British  Association 
lor  'he  Advancement  of  Science. 

7  "The  Origin   of  the   Totemism   Among   the   Aborigines   of   British 
Columbia,"  Transactions  of  the  Royal  Society  of  Canada,  Second  Series, 
Vol.  vn,  1901-2. 

8"Ausdrucks-  und  Spiel  tatigkeit  als  Grundlagc  des  Totemismus," 
Anthropos,  vols.  x-xi,  1915-16. 

0  In  the  sense  of  the  "Culture  Historical  School";  cf.  his  "Totemismus 
als  Kulturgeschichtliches  Problem,"  ibid. 

10  Sec  Anthropos,  vols.  x-xi,  pp.  9669-70. 

11  For  a  more  extended  exposition  and  criticism  of  Durkheim's  extraordi- 
nary book,  see  my  "Religion  and  Society:  A  Critique  of  Ennle  Durkheim's 
Theory  of  the  Origin  and  Nature  of  Religion,"  Journal  of  Philosophy,  Psy- 
chology and  Scientific  Methods,  vol.  xiv,  1917. 

12  Cf.  Frazer's  "bush-soul"  theory. 

13  Elements  of  Folk-Psychology,  and  Voider  psychologic,  vol.  ii. 

14  Cf.  the  somewhat  similar  approach  of  Lawrence  Gomme  in  his  Folf^- 
lore  as  a  Historical  Science. 

15  Cf.,  in  this  connection,  my  "Totemism,  an  Analytical  Study,"  Journal 
jf  American  Folklore,  1910;  also  the  section  "Early  Life  and  Thought"  in 
my  Early  Civilization,  1922;  and  "The  Views  of  Andrew  Lang  and  J.  G. 
Frazer  and  E.  Durkhcim  on  Totemism,"  Anthropos,  vols.  x  and  xi,  1915-16. 

16  Revue  de  I'Histoire  des  Religions,  vols.  xxxvi  and  xxxvii,  1897-98. 

17  Vide  Wundt. 

18  Thurnwald. 

10  This  section  is  reproduced  from  my  article,  "Form  and  Content  in 
Totemism,"  American  Anthropologist,  N.S.,  vol.  xx,  1918. 

20  History  of  Melanesian  Society,  vol.  ii,  and  "Totemism  in  Polynesia 
ind  Melanesia,"  Journal  of  the  Royal  Anthropological  Institute,  vol.  xxxix, 
1909. 

21  In  his  Primitive  Secret  Societies,  1908,  and  "Totem  Clans  and  Secret 
Associations  in  Australia  and  Melanesia,"  Journal  of  the  Anthropological 
Institute,  vol.  xli,  1911. 

22  This  section  is  reproduced,  with  some  omissions  and  additions,  from 
my  article,  Totemism,  in  the  New  International  Encyclopaedia,  Second 
Edition,  vol.  xxii. 

23  It  must  further  be  noted  that 'the  diffusion  of  the  feature  does  not 
here  proceed  from  individual  to  individual  merely,  which  is,  indeed,  the 
way  in  which  any  custom  spreads  through  a  community.    The  indi- 
viduals, to  be  sure,  are  the  ultimate  units  to  whom  refer  the  functions 
for  which  the  totemic  features  stand.  But  the  diffusion  of  totcmic  features 
proceeds  trom  clan  to  clan;  and  the  individuals  of  each  clan,  when  their 
turn  arrives,  do  not  adopt  the  feature  itself  but  its  homologue. 

24  The  section  on  "The  Pattern  Theory"  is  reproduced  in  somewhat 
abbreviated  form,  from  my  "Tlie  Origin  of  Totemism1'  (American  Anthro- 
polo  gist,  N.S.,  vol.  xiv,  1912,  pp.  603-607). 


THE  INFLUENCE  OF  ANCIENT  EGYPTIAN 

CIVILIZATION  IN  THE  EAST  AND  IN 

AMERICA 

By  G.  ELLIOT  SMITH 

IN  the  lectures  which  in  former  years  I  have  delivered  at 
the  John  Rylands  Library  I  discussed  the  problems  of  the 
gradual  diffusion  of  Egypt's  influence  to  the  neighboring 
parts  of  Africa,  Asia,  and  the  Eastern  Mediterranean  Islands 
and  Coasts,  which  began  at  a  very  early  historical  period, 
On  the  present  occasion  I  am  calling  attention  to  a  mass 
of  evidence  which  seems  to  prove  that,  towards  the  close 
of  the  period  of  the  New  Empire,  or  perhaps  even  a  little 
later,  a  great  many  of  the  most  distinctive  practices  of 
Egyptian  civilization  suddenly  appeared  in  more  distant 
parts  of  the  coastlines  of  Africa,  Europe,  and  Asia,  and 
also  in  course  of  time  in  Oceania  and  America;  and  to  sug- 
gest that  the  Phoenicians  must  have  been  the  chief  agents 
in  initiating  the  wholesale  distribution  of  this  culture  abroad. 

The  Mediterranean  has  been  the  scene  of  so  many  con* 
flicts  between  rival  cultures  that  it  is  a  problem  of  enormous 
complexity  and  difficulty  to  decipher  the  story  of  Egyptian 
influence  in  its  much-scored  palimpsest.  For  the  purposes  of 
my  exposition  it  is  easier  to  study  its  easterly  spread,  where 
among  less  cultured  peoples  it  blazed  its  track  and  left  a 
record  less  disturbed  by  subsequent  developments  than  in 
the  West.  Mr.  W.  J.  Perry  has  shown  that  once  the  easterly 
cultural  migration  has  been  studied  the  more  complicated 
events  in  the  West  can  be  deciphered  also. 

The  thesis  I  propose  to  submit  for  consideration,  then,  is 
(a)  that  the  essential  elements  of  the  ancient  civilizations 

393 


394  TIIE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

of  India,  Further  Asia,  the  Malay  Archipelago,  Oceania,  and 
America  were  brought  in  succession  to  each  of  these  places 
by  mariners,  whose  oriental  migrations  (on  an  extensive 
scale)  began  as  trading  intercourse  between  the  Eastern 
Mediterranean  and  India  some  time  after  800  B.C.  (and  con- 
linued  for  many  centuries);  (b)  that  the  highly  complex 
and  artificial  culture  which  they  spread  abroad  was  derived 
largely  from  Egypt  (not  earlier  than  the  xxi  Dynasty),  but 
also  included  many  important  accretions  and  modifications 
from  the  Phoenician  world  around  the  Eastern  Mediter- 
ranean, from  East  Africa  (and  the  Soudan),  Arabia,  and 
Babylonia;  (c)  that,  in  addition  to  providing  the  leaven 
which  stimulated  the  development  of  the  pre-Aryan  civ- 
ilization of  India,  the  cultural  stream  to  Burma,  Indonesia, 
the  eastern  littoral  of  Asia  and  Oceania  was  in  turn  modified 
by  Indian  influences;  and  (d)  that  finally  the  stream,  with 
many  additions  from  Indonesia,  Melanesia,  and  Polynesia, 
as  well  as  from  China  and  Japan,  continued  for  many  cen- 
turies to  play  upon  the  Pacific  littoral  of  America,  where 
it  was  responsible  for  planting  the  germs  of  the  remarkable 
Pre-Columbian  civilization.  The  reality  of  these  migrations 
and  this  spread  of  culture  is  substantiated  (and  dated)  by  the 
remarkable  collection  of  extraordinary  practices  and  fantastic 
beliefs  which  these  ancient  mariners  distributed  along  a  well- 
defined  route  from  the  Eastern  Mediterranean  to  America. 
They  were  responsible  for  stimulating  the  inhabitants  of  the 
coasts  along  a  great  part  of  their  extensive  itinerary  (a) 
to  adopt  the  practice  of  mummification,  characterized  by  a 
variety  of  methods,  but  in  every  place  with  remarkable 
identities  of  technique  and  associated  ritual,  including  the 
use  of  incense  and  libations,  a  funerary  bier  and  boat,  and 
certain  peculiar  views  regarding  the  treatment  of  the  head, 
the  practice  of  remodeling  the  features  and  the  use  of 
statues,  the  possibility  of  bringing  the  dead  to  life,  and  the 
wanderings  of  the  dead  and  its  adventures  in  the  under- 
world; (b)  to  build  a  great  variety  of  megalithic  monu- 
ments, conforming  to  certain  well-defined  types  which 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  39^ 

present  essentially  identical  features  throughout  a  consider 
able  extent,  or  even  the  whole,  of  the  long  itinerary,  and  in 
association  with  these  monuments  identical  traditions,  be- 
liefs, and  customs;  (c)  to  make  idols  in  connection  with 
which  were  associated  ideas  concerning  the  possibility  of 
human  beings  or  animals  living  in  stones,  and  of  the  petri- 
faction of  men  and  women,  the  story  of  the  deluge,  of  the 
divine  origin  of  kings,  who  are  generally  the  children  of 
the  sun  or  of  the  sky,  and  of  the  origin  of  the  chosen  people 
from  incestuous  unions;  (d)  to  worship  the  sun  and  adopt 
in  reference  to  this  deity  a  complex  and  arbitrary  symbolism 
representing  an  incongruous  grouping  of  a  serpent  in  con- 
junction with  the  sun's  disc  equipped  with  a  hawk's  wings, 
often  associated  also  with  serpent-worship  or  in  other  case? 
the  belief  in  a  relationship  with  or  descent  from  serpents; 
(e)  to  adopt  the  practices  of  circumcision,  tattooing,  mas- 
sage, piercing  and  distending  the  ear-lobules,  artificial 
deformation  of  the  skull,  and  perhaps  trephining,  dental 
mutilations,  and  perforating  the  lips  and  nose;  (/)  to  practice 
weaving  linen,  and  in  some  cases  to  make  use  of  Tyrian 
purple,  pearls,  precious  stones,  and  metals,  and  conch-shell 
trumpets,  as  well  as  the  curious  beliefs  and  superstitions  at- 
tached to  the  latter;  (g)  to  adopt  certain  definite  metal- 
lurgical methods,  as  well  as  mining;  (h)  to  use  methods 
of  intensive  agriculture,  associated  with  the  use  of  terraced 
irrigation,  the  artificial  terraces  being  retained  with  stone 
walls;  (/)  to  adopt  certain  phallic  ideas  and  practices;  (/) 
to  make  use  of  the  swastika  symbol,  and  to  adopt  the  idea 
that  stone  implements  are  thunder-teeth  or  thunderbolts  and 
the  beliefs  associated  with  this  conception;  (^)  to  use  the 
boomerang;  (/)  to  hold  certain  beliefs  regarding  "the 
heavenly  twins";  (m)  to  practice  couvade;  (n)  to  adopt  the 
same  games;  and  (o)  to  display  a  special  aptitude  for,  and 
skill  and  daring  in,  maritime  adventures,  as  well  as  tc 
adopt  a  number  of  curiously  arbitrary  features  of  boat- 
building. 
Many  of  the  items  in  this  list  I  owe  to  Mr.  W.  J.  Perry, 


396  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

to  whose  cooperation  and  independent  researches  the  con- 
clusiveness  of  the  case  I  am  putting  before  you  is  due.  But 
above  all  the  credit  is  due  to  him  of  having  so  clearly  eluci- 
dated the  motives  for  the  migrations  and  explained  why  the 
new  learning  took  root  in  some  places  and  not  in  others. 

That  this  remarkable  cargo  of  fantastic  customs  and  beliefs 
was  really  spread  abroad,  and  most  of  them  at  one  and  the 
same  time,  is  shown  by  the  fact  that  in  places  as  far  apart 
as  the  Mediterranean  and  Peru,  as  well  as  in  many  inter- 
mediate localities,  these  cultural  ingredients  were  linked 
together  in  an  arbitrary  and  highly  artificial  manner,  to 
form  a  structure  which  it  is  utterly  impossible  to  conceive 
as  having  been  built  up  independently  in  different  places. 

The  fact  that  some  of  the  practices  which  were  thus  spread 
abroad  were  not  invented  in  Egypt  and  Phoenicia  until  the 
eighth  century  B.C.  makes  this  the  earliest  possible  date  for 
the  commencement  of  the  great  wandering. 

In  some  of  the  earliest  Egyptian  graves,  which  cannot  be 
much  less  than  sixty  centuries  old,  pottery  has  been  found 
decorated  with  paintings  representing  boats  of  considerable 
size  and  pretensions.  The  making  of  crude  types  of  boats 
was  perhaps  one  of  the  first,  if  not  actually  the  earliest,  mani- 
festations of  human  inventiveness:  for  primitive  men  in  the 
very  childhood  of  the  species  were  able  to  use  rough  craft 
made  of  logs,  reeds,  or  inflated  skins,  to  ferry  themselves 
across  sheets  of  water  which  otherwise  would  have  proved 
insuperable  hindrances  to  their  wanderings.  But  the  Egyp- 
tian boats  of  4000  B.C.  probably  represented  a  considerable 
advance  in  the  art  of  naval  construction;  and  before  the 
Predynastic  period  had  come  to  a  close  the  invention  of 
metal  tools  gave  a  great  impetus  to  the  carpenter's  craft, 
and  thus  opened  the  way  for  the  construction  of  more  am- 
bitious ships. 

Whether  or  not  the  Predynastic  boatmen  ventured  beyond 
the  Nile  into  the  open  sea  is  not  known  for  certain,  although 
the  balance  of  probability  inclines  strongly  to  the  conclusion 
that  they  did  so. 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  397 

But  there  is  positive  evidence  to  prove  that  as  early  as 
2800  B.C.  maritime  intercourse  was  definitely  established 
along  the  coasts  of  the  Eastern  Mediterranean,  bringing  into 
contact  the  various  peoples,  at  any  rate  those  of  Egypt  and 
Syria,  scattered  along  the  littoral.  Egyptian  seamen  were 
also  trafficking  along  the  shores  of  the  Red  Sea;  and  there 
are  reasons  for  believing  that  in  Protodynastic  times  such 
intercourse  may  have  extended  around  the  coast  of  Arabia, 
as  far  as  the  Sumerian  settlement  at  the  head  of  the  Persian 
Gulf,  thus  bringing  into  contact  the  homes  of  the  world's 
most  ancient  civilizations. 

More  daring  seamen  were  venturing  out  into  the  open 
sea,  and  extending  their  voyages  at  least  as  far  as  Crete: 
for  the  geographical  circumstances  at  the  time  in  question 
make  it  certain  that  Neolithic  culture  could  not  have  reached 
that  island  in  any  other  way  than  by  maritime  intercourse. 

The  Early  Minoan  Civilization,  as  well  as  the  later  modi- 
fications of  Cretan  burial  customs,  such  as  the  making  of 
rock-cut  tombs  and  the  use  of  stone  for  building,  were 
certainly  inspired  in  large  measure  by  ideas  brought  from 
Egypt. 

Long  before  the  beginning  of  the  second  millennium  B.C. 
the  germs  of  the  Egyptian  megalithic  culture  had  taken  deep 
root,  not  only  in  Crete  itself,  but  also  throughout  the  ^Egean 
and  the  coasts  of  Asia  Minor  and  Palestine. 

In  course  of  time,  as  the  art  of  ship-building  advanced  and 
the  mariners'  skill  and  experience  increased,  no  doubt  more 
extensive  and  better-equipped  enterprises  were  undertaken.1 
Instances  of  this  are  provided  by  the  famous  expedition  to 
the  land  of  Punt  in  Queen  Hatshepsut's  reign  and  the  ex- 
ploits of  the  Minoan  seamen  of  Crete. 

Such  commercial  intercourse  cannot  fail  to  have  produced 
a  slow  diffusion  of  culture  from  one  people  to  another, 
even  if  it  was  primarily  of  the  nature  of  a  mere  exchange 
of  commodities.  But  as  the  various  civilizations  gradually 
assumed  their  characteristic  forms  a  certain  conventionalism 
and  a  national  pride  grew  up,  which  protected  each  of  these 


THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

more  cultured  communities  from  being  so  readily  influenced 
by  contact  with  aliens  as  it  was  in  the  days  of  its  uncultured 
simplicity.  Each  tended  to  become  more  and  more  conscious 
of  its  national  peculiarities,  and  immune  against  alien  in- 
fluences that  threatened  to  break  down  the  rigid  walls  of 
its  proud  conservatism. 

It  was  not  until  the  Minoan  state  had  fallen  and  Egypt's 
dominion  had  begun  to  crumble  that  a  people  free  from  such 
prejudices  began  to  adopt  all  that  it  wanted  from  these  hide- 
bound civilizations.  To  its  own  exceptional  aptitude  for 
and  experience  in  maritime  exploits  it  added  all  the  knowl- 
edge acquired  by  the  Egyptians,  Minoans,  and  the  peoples 
of  Levant.  It  thus  took  upon  itself  to  become  the  great  in- 
termediary between  the  nations  of  antiquity;  and  in  the 
course  of  its  trafficking  with  them,  it  did  not  scruple  to  adopt 
their  arts  and  crafts,  their  burial  customs,  and  even  their 
gods.  In  this  way  was  inaugurated  the  first  era  of  really  great 
sea-voyages  in  the  world's  history.  For  the  trafficking  with 
these  great  proud  empires  proved  so  profitable  that  the 
enterprising  intermediaries  who  assumed  the  control  of  it, 
not  only  of  bartering  their  merchandise  one  with  the  other, 
but  also  of  supplying  their  wants  from  elsewhere,  soon 
began  to  exploit  the  whole  world  for  the  things  which  the 
wealthy  citizens  of  the  imperial  states  desired. 

There  can  be  no  doubt  that  it  was  the  Phoenicians,  lured 
forth  into  the  unknown  oceans  in  search  of  gold,  who  first 
broke  through  the  bounds  of  the  Ancient  East  and  whose 
ships  embarked  upon  these  earliest  maritime  adventures  on 
the  grand  scale.  Their  achievements  and  their  motives 
present  some  analogies  to  those  of  the  great  European  sea- 
men of  the  fifteenth  and  sixteenth  centuries  who  raided  the 
East  Indies  and  the  Spanish  Main  for  loot.  But  the  exploits 
of  the  Phoenicians  must  be  regarded  as  even  greater  events, 
not  only  by  reason  of  the  earlier  period  in  which  they  were 
accomplished,  but  also  from  their  vast  influence  upon  the 
history  of  civilization  in  outlying  parts  of  the  world,  as 
well  as  for  inaugurating  new  methods  of  commerce  and  ex- 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  399 

tending  the  use  of  its  indispensable  instrument,  gold  cur- 
rency. 

Their  doings  are  concisely  set  forth  in  the  twenty-seventh 
chapter  of  the  Book  of  Ezekiel,  where  Tyre  is  addressed  in 
these  words:  "Who  is  there  like  Tyre,  like  her  that  is  brought 
to  silence  in  the  midst  of  the  sea?  When  thy  wares  went 
forth  out  of  the  seas,  thou  filledst  many  peoples:  thou 
didst  enrich  the  kings  of  the  earth  with  the  multitude  of 
thy  riches,  and  of  thy  merchandise." 

Many  circumstances  were  responsible  for  extending  these 
wider  ramifications  of  maritime  trade,  so  graphically  de- 
scribed in  the  rest  of  the  same  chapter  of  Ezekiel.  As  I  have 
already  explained,  it  was  not  merely  the  desire  to  acquire 
wealth,  but  also  the  appreciation  of  the  possibilities  of  doing 
so  that  prompted  the  Phoenicians'  exploits.  Not  being  ham- 
pered by  any  undue  respect  for  customs  and  conventions, 
they  readily  acquired  and  assimilated  to  themselves  all  the 
practical  knowledge  of  the  civilized  world,  whether  it  came 
from  Egypt,  Mesopotamia,  Asia  Minor,  or  the  ^Egean.  They 
were  sprung  from  a  preeminently  maritime  stock  and 
probably  had  gained  experience  in  seamanship  in  the  Persian 
Gulf:  and  when  they  settled  on  the  Syrian  Coast  they  were 
also  able  to  add  to  their  knowledge  of  such  things  all  that 
the  Egyptians  and  the  population  of  the  Levant  and  ^Egean 
had  acquired  for  themselves  after  centuries  of  maritime  ad- 
venture. But  one  of  the  great  factors  in  explanation  of  the 
naval  supremacy  of  the  Phoenicians  was  their  acquaintance 
with  the  facts  of  astronomy.  The  other  peoples  of  the  Ancient 
East  had  acquired  a  considerable  knowledge  of  the  stars,  the 
usefulness  of  which,  however,  was  probably  restricted  by 
religious  considerations.  Whether  this  be  so  or  not,  there 
can  be  no  doubt  that  the  Phoenicians  were  not  restrained 
by  any  such  ideas  from  putting  to  its  utmost  practical  ap- 
plication the  valuable  guide  to  navigation  in  the  open  sea 
which  this  astronomical  learning  supplied. 

They  were  only  able  to  embark  upon  their  great  mari- 
time  enterprises  in  virtue  of  the  use  they  made  of  the  pole< 


<fOO  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

star  for  steering.  This  theme  has  been  discussed  in  great 
detail  by  Mrs.  Zelia  Nuttall;  and  although  I  am  unable 
to  accept  a  great  part  of  her  argument  from  astronomy,  the 
evidence  in  substantiation  of  the  use  made  of  the  pole-star 
for  navigation,  not  only  in  the  Mediterranean,  but  also  by 
seamen  navigating  along  the  coasts  of  Asia  and  America, 
cannot  be  questioned. 

Within  recent  years  there  has  been  a  remarkable  reaction 
against  the  attitude  of  a  former  generation,  which  perhaps 
unduly  exaggerated  certain  phases  of  the  achievements  of 
the  Phoenicians. 

But  the  modern  pose  of  minimizing  their  influence  surely 
errs  too  much  in  the  other  direction,  and  is  in  more  flagrant 
conflict  with  the  facts  of  history  and  archaeology  than  the 
former  doctrine,  which  its  sponsors  criticize  so  emphatically. 
Due  credit  can  be  accorded  to  the  Egyptians,  Minoans,  and 
other  ancient  mariners,  without  in  any  way  detracting  from 
the  record  of  the  Phoenicians,  whose  exploits  could  hardly 
have  attained  such  great  and  widespread  notoriety  among 
the  ancients  without  very  real  and  substantial  grounds  for 
their  reputation.  The  recent  memoirs  of  Siret,  Dahse,  Nut- 
tall,  and  the  writer  have  adduced  abundant  evidence  in 
justification  of  the  greatness  of  their  exploits.  Professor 
Sayce  says:  "They  were  the  intermediaries  of  the  ancient 
civilizations";  and  that  by  600  B.C.  they  had  "penetrated  to 
the  northwest  coast  of  India  and  probably  to  the  island  of 
Britain."  "Phoenician  art  was  essentially  catholic  ...  it  as- 
similated the  art  of  Babylonia,  Egypt,  and  Assyria,  super- 
adding  something  of  its  own.  .  .  .  The  cities  of  the  Phoeni- 
cians were  the  first  trading  communities  the  world  has  seen. 
Their  colonies  were  originally  mere  marts  and  their  voyages 
of  discovery  were  taken  in  the  interests  of  trade.  The  tin  of 
Britain,  the  silver  of  Spain,  the  birds  of  the  Canaries,  the 
frankincense  of  Arabia,  the  pearls  and  ivory  of  India  all 
flowed  into  their  harbors." 

These  were  the  distinctive  features  of  the  Phoenicians'  ac- 
tivities, of  which  Mr.  Hogarth  2  gives  a  concise  and  graphic 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  401 

summary.  But,  as  Mr.  Perry  has  pointed  out,  they  were  led 
forth  above  all  in  search  for  gold.  As  he  suggests,  the 
Phoenicians  seem  to  have  been  one  of  the  first  peoples  to 
have  assigned  to  gold  the  kind  of  importance  and  value  that 
civilized  people  have  ever  since  attached  to  it.  It  was  no 
longer  merely  material  for  making  jewelry:  "it  became  a 
currency,  which  made  the  foundation  of  civilization  not  only 
possible  but  inevitable,  once  such  a  currency  came  into 
being." 

The  remarks  addressed  to  Tyre  in  the  Book  of  Ezekiel 3 
give  expression  to  these  ideas:  "All  the  ships  of  the  sea  with 
their  mariners  were  in  thee  to  occupy  thy  merchandise.  .  .  . 
Tarshish  was  thy  merchant  by  reason  of  the  multitude  of 
all  kinds  of  riches;  with  silver,  iron,  tin,  and  lead,  they 
traded  for  thy  wares.  .  .  .  Syria  was  thy  merchant  by  reason 
of  the  multitude  of  thy  handy-works:  they  traded  for  thy 
wares  with  emeralds,  purple,  and  broidered  work,  and  fine 
linen,  and  coral  [probably  pearls],  and  rubies;  they  traded 
for  thy  merchandise  wheat  of  Minnith,  and  Pannag,  ani 
honey,  and  oil,  and  balm.  .  ,  .  The  traffickers  of  Sheba  and 
Raamah,  they  were  thy  traffickers:  they  traded  for  thy  wares 
with  chief  of  all  spices,  and  with  all  precious  stones,  and  gold, 
.  .  .  The  ships  of  Tarshish  were  thy  caravans  for  thy  mer 
chandise;  and  thou  wast  replenished,  and  made  very  glorious 
in  the  heart  of  the  seas.  Thy  rowers  have  brought  thee  into 
great  waters:  the  east  wind  has  broken  thee  in  the  heart  of 
the  seas." 

The  Phoenicians  in  fact  controlled  the  commerce  of  most 
of  the  civilized  world  of  that  time;  and  they  did  so  mainly 
because  of  their  superior  skill  and  daring  in  seamanship, 
their  newly  realized  appreciation  of  the  value  of  gold,  and 
their  desire  for  precious  stones  and  pearls,  for  which  they 
began  to  ransack  every  country  near  and  far.  So  thoroughly 
did  they,  and  their  pupils  and  imitators,  accomplish  their 
mission  that  only  one  pearl-field  in  the  whole  world  (the 
West  Australian  site  at  Broome)  escaped  their  exploitation. 

Many  of  their  great  maritime  adventures  have  been  re- 


402  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

corded  by  the  ancient  classical  writers.  The  reality  or  others, 
for  example,  to  India,  which  have  not  been  specifically 
described,  are  none  the  less  certain :  not  only  was  there  most 
intimate  intercourse  between  the  Red  Sea  and  India  at  the 
very  time  when  the  Phoenicians  were  displaying  great  ac- 
tivity in  the  Indian  Ocean,  but  the  methods  and  the  motives, 
no  less  than  the  cargoes,  of  these  energetic  and  skillful 
mariners,  whose  exploits  are  celebrated  in  the  Mahdbhdrata, 
and  whose  achievements  are  indelibly  impressed  upon  Indian 
culture,  proclaim  them  unmistakably  to  be  Phoenicians. 

In  the  course  of  this  trading  there  was  not  only  an  in- 
terchange of  the  articles  of  commerce  provided  by  the 
Mediterranean  countries  and  India,  as  well  as  by  all  the  inter- 
mediate ports  of  call,  but  also  there  is  the  most  positive 
evidence,  in  the  multiude  of  western  practices  which  sud- 
denly made  their  appearance  in  India,  at  the  very  time  when 
this  free  trafficking  became  definitely  established,  in  demon- 
stration of  the  fact  that  the  civilizations  of  the  West  were 
exerting  a  very  potent  cultural  influence  upon  the  Dravidian 
population  of  India.  Many  of  the  customs  which  made  their 
first  appearance  in  India  at  that  epoch,  such  as  mummifica- 
tion, the  making  of  rock-cut  temples,  and  stone  tombs  (and 
many  others  of  the  long  list  of  practices  enumerated  earlier 
in  the  present  discourse)  were  definitely  Egyptian  in  origin. 

One  of  the  most  significant  and  striking  of  the  effects  of 
this  maritime  intercourse  with  Egypt  was  the  influence  ex- 
erted by  the  latter  in  the  matter  of  ship-building. 

The  fact  that  such  distinctively  Egyptian  practices  were 
spread  abroad  at  the  same  time  as,  and  in  close  association 
with,  many  others  equally  definitely  Mediterranean  in  origin 
(such  as  the  use  of  Tyrian  purple  and  of  the  conch-shell 
trumpet  in  temple  services)  is  further  corroboration  of  the 
fact  that  the  Phoenicians,  who  are  known  to  have  adopted 
the  same  mixture  of  customs,  were  the  distributors  of  so 
remarkable  a  cultural  cargo. 

This  identification  is  further  confirmed  by  the  fact  that 
Additions  were  made  to  this  curious  repertoire  from  precisely 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  403 

those  regions  where  the  Phoenicians  are  known  vigorously  to 
have  carried  on  their  trafficking,  such  as  many  places  in  the 
Mediterranean,  on  the  Red  Sea  littoral,  Ethiopia,  and 
Southern  Arabia. 

In  this  way  alone  can  be  explained  how  there  came  to  be 
associated  with  the  mcgalithic  culture  such  practices  as  the 
Sudanese  Negro  custom  of  piercing  and  distending  the  ear- 
lobules,  the  Armenian  (or  Central  Asiatic)  procedure  for 
artificial  deformation  of  the  head,  the  method  of  terraced 
cultivation,  which  was  probably  a  Southern  Arabian  modifi- 
cation of  Egyptian  cultivation  and  irrigation  on  a  level 
surface;  certain  beliefs  regarding  the  "heavenly  twins";  and 
perhaps  such  institutions  as  "men's  houses"  and  secret  so- 
cieties, and  the  building  of  pile-dwellings,  and  customs  such 
as  trephining,  dental  mutilations,  and  perforating  the  lips 
and  nose,  which  were  collected  by  the  wanderers  from  a 
variety  of  scattered  peoples  in  the  Ancient  East. 

Mrs.  Nuttall  has  made  a  vast  collection  of  other  evidence 
relating  mainly  to  astronomy,  calendars,  the  methods  of  sub- 
dividing time,  and  questions  of  political  and  social  organiza- 
tion, upon  the  basis  of  which  she  independently  arrived  at 
essentially  the  same  conclusions  as  I  have  formulated,  not 
only  as  regards  the  reality  and  the  time  of  the  great  migra- 
tion of  culture,  but  also  as  to  the  identification  of  the 
Phoenicians  as  the  people  mainly  responsible  for  its  dif- 
fusion abroad.  She  failed  to  realize,  however,  that  this 
easterly  diffusion  of  knowledge  and  customs  was  merely 
incidental  to  commercial  intercourse  and  a  result  of  the 
trafficking. 

In  addition  to  all  these  considerations  I  should  like  once 
more  to  emphasize  the  fact  that  it  was  the  study  of  the 
physical  characteristics  of  the  people  scattered  along  the 
great  megalithic  track — and  more  especially  those  of  Poly- 
nesia and  the  Eastern  Mediterranean— that  first  led  me  to 
investigate  these  problems  of  the  migrations  of  culture  and 
its  bearers  to  the  Far  East.  For  one  cannot  fail  to  be  struck 
with  the  many  features  of  resemblance  between  the  ancient 


404  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

seamen  who  were  mainly  responsible  for  the  earliest  great 
maritime  exploits  in  the  Mediterranean  and  Erythrean  seas 
and  the  Pacific  Ocean  respectively. 

The  remarkable  evidence  brought  forward  at  the  recent 
meeting  of  the  British  Association  by  Mr.  W.  J.  Perry  seems 
to  me  finally  to  decide  the  question  of  the  identity  of  the 
wanderers  who  distributed  early  Mediterranean  culture  in 
the  East. 

His  investigations  also  explain  the  motives  for  the  journey- 
ings  and  the  reasons  why  the  western  culture  took  root  in 
some  places  and  not  in  others. 

Throughout  the  world  the  localized  areas  where  the  dis- 
tinctive features  of  this  characteristic  civilization  occur — 
and  especially  such  elements  as  megalithic  structures,  ter- 
raced irrigation,  sun-worship,  and  practices  of  mummifica- 
tion— are  precisely  those  places  where  ancient  mine- 
workings,  and  especially  gold-mines,  or  pearl-fisheries,  are 
also  found,  and  where  presumably  Phoenician  settlements 
were  established  to  exploit  these  sources  of  wealth.  "But 
not  only  is  a  general  agreement  found  between  the  distribu- 
tions of  megalithic  influence  and  ancient  mine-workings, 
but  the  technique  of  mining,  smelting,  and  refining  opera- 
tions is  identical  in  all  places  where  the  earliest  remains 
have  been  found.  .  .  .  The  form  of  the  furnaces  used;  the 
introduction  of  the  blast  over  the  mouth  of  the  furnace; 
the  process  of  refining  whereby  the  metal  is  first  roughly 
smelted  in  an  open  furnace  and  afterwards*  refined  in  cruci- 
bles; as  well  as  the  forms  of  the  crucibles  and  the  substances 
of  which  they  were  made,  are  the  same  in  all  places  where 
traces  of  ancient  smelting  operations  have  been  discovered. 
. . .  The  conclusion  to  which  all  these  facts  point  is  that  the 
search  for  certain  forms  of  material  wealth  led  the  carriers 
of  the  megalithic  culture  to  those  places  where  the  things 
they  desired  were  to  be  found." 

The  distribution  of  pearl-shell  explains  how  their  course 
was  directed  along  certain  routes:  the  situations  of  ancient 
mines  provide  the  reason  for  the  settlement  of  the  wanderers 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  405 

and  the  adoption  of  the  whole  of  the  megalithic  culture- 
complex  in  definite  localities. 

From  the  consideration  of  all  of  these  factors  it  is  clear 
that  the  great  easterly  migration  of  megalithic  culture  was 
the  outcome  of  the  traffic  carried  on  between  the  Eastern 
Mediterranean  and  India  during  the  three  or  four  centuries 
from  about  800  B.C.  onward,  and  that  the  Phoenicians  were 
mainly  responsible  for  these  enterprises.  The  littoral  popu- 
lations of  Egypt,  Ethiopia,  Arabia,  the  Persian  Gulf,  and 
India  itself  no  doubt  took  a  considerable  part  in  this  inter- 
course, for  they  all  provided  hardy  mariners  inured  by 
long  experience  to  such  pursuits;  but  for  the  reasons  already 
suggested  (their  wider  knowledge  of  the  science  and  practice 
of  seamanship)  the  Phoenicians  seem  to  have  directed  and 
controlled  these  expeditions,  even  if  they  exploited  the  shore? 
of  the  Mediterranean,  Red  Sea,  Arabia,  and  farther  East 
for  skilled  sailors  to  man  their  ships.  That  such  recruits 
played  a  definite  part  in  the  Phoenician  expeditions  is  shown 
by  the  transmission  to  the  East  of  customs  and  practices 
found  in  localized  areas  of  the  coasts  of  the  Mediterranean 
and  Black  Seas,  and  especially  of  Ethiopia,  Arabia,  and  the 
Persian  Gulf.  It  is  probable  that  expert  pearl-fishers  were 
recruited  on  the  shores  of  the  Red  Sea  and  gold-miners  in 
Nubia  and  the  Black  Sea  littoral. 

The  easterly  migration  of  culture  rolled  like  a  great  flood 
along  the  Asiatic  littoral  between  the  end  of  the  eighth  and 
the  beginning  of  the  fifth  century  B.C.;  and  there  can  be  no 
doubt  that  the  leaven  of  western  culture  was  distributed  to 
India,  China,  Japan,  Indonesia,  and  possibly  even  further, 
mainly  by  that  great  wave.  But  for  long  ages  before  that 
time,  no  doubt  a  slow  diffusion  of  culture  had  been  taking- 
place  along  the  same  coastlines;  and  ever  since  the  first 
great  stream  brought  the  flood  of  western  learning  to  the 
East  a  similar  influence  has  been  working  along  the  same 
route,  carrying  to  and  fro  new  elements  of  cultural  ex- 
change  between  the  East  and  West. 

The  "Periplus  of  the  Erythrean  Sea"  reveals  to  us  how 


406  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

closely  the  old  routes  were  being  followed  and  the  same  kino 
of  traffic  was  going  on  in  the  first  century  of  the  Christian 
era;  the  exploits  of  other  mariners,  Egyptian,  Greek,  Arabic, 
Indian,  and  Chinese,  show  how  continuously  such  inter- 
course was  maintained  right  up  to  the  time  when  Western 
European  adventurers  first  intruded  into  the  Indian  Ocean. 
The  spread  of  Brahmanism,  Buddhism,  and  Islam  are  fur- 
ther illustrations  of  the  way  in  which  such  migrations  of  new 
cults  followed  the  old  routes. 

In  the  light  of  such  knowledge  it  would  be  altogether  un- 
justifiable to  assume  that  the  geographical  distribution  of 
similar  customs  and  beliefs  along  this  great  highway  of  an  • 
cient  commerce  was  due  exclusively  to  the  great  wave  of 
megalithic  culture  before  the  sixth  century  B.C.  There  is 
evidence  of  the  most  definite  kind  that  many  of  the  elements 
of  western  culture — such,  for  example,  as  Ptolemaic  and 
Christian  methods  of  embalming — were  spread  abroad  at 
later  times. 

Nevertheless  there  is  amply  sufficient  information  to  justify 
the  conclusion  that  many  of  the  fundamental  conceptions 
of  Indian,  Chinese,  Japanese,  and  American  civilization  were 
planted  in  their  respective  countries  by  the  great  cultural 
wave  which  set  out  from  the  African  coast  not  long  before 
the  sixth  century  B.C. 

One  of  the  objections  raised  even  by  the  most  competent 
ethnologists  against  the  adoption  of  this  view  is  the  assump- 
tion involved  in  such  a  hypothesis  that  one  and  the  same 
wave  carried  to  the  East  a  jumble  of  practices  ranging  in 
dates  from  that  of  Predynastic  Egypt  to  the  seventh  century 
B.C. — that  at,  or  about,  the  same  time  the  inspiration  to  build 
megalithic  monuments  fashioned  on  the  models  of  the 
Pyramid  Age  and  others  imitating  New  Empire  temples 
reached  India. 

But  the  difficulties  created  by  this  line  of  argument  are 
largely  illusory,  especially  when  it  is  recalled  that  the  sailors 
manning  the  Phoenician  ships  were  recruited  from  so  many 
localities.  It  is  known  that  even  within  a  few  miles  of  the 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  407 

Egyptian  frontiers — Nubia,  for  instance — many  customs  and 
practices  which  disappeared  in  Egypt  itself  in  the  times  of 
the  New,  Middle,  or  Old  Empires,  or  even  in  Predynastic 
times,  persist  until  the  present  day.  The  earliest  Egyptian 
method  of  circumcision  (which  Dr.  Rivers  calls  "incision") 
disappeared  in  Egypt  probably  in  the  Pyramid  Age,  but  it 
is  still  practiced  in  East  Africa;  and  no  doubt  it  was  the 
sailors  recruited  from  that  coast  who  were  responsible  for 
transmitting  this  practice  to  the  East.  When  the  first  British 
settlement  was  made  in  America  it  introduced  not  only  the 
civilization  of  the  Elizabethan  era,  but  also  practices  and 
customs  that  had  been  in  vogue  in  England  for  many  cen- 
turies; and  no  doubt  every  emigrant  carried  with  him  the 
traditions  and  beliefs  that  may  have  survived  from  very 
remote  times  in  his  own  village.  So  the  Phoenician  expedi- 
tions spread  abroad  not  only  the  Egyptian  civilization  of  the 
seventh  cenutry  B.C.,  but  also  the  customs,  beliefs,  and  prac- 
tices of  every  sailor  and  passenger  who  traveled  in  their 
ships,  whether  he  came  from  Syria,  or  the  ^Egean,  from 
Egypt  or  Ethiopia,  Arabia  or  the  Persian  Gulf.  The  fact  that 
many  extremely  old  Egyptian  practices,  which  had  been 
given  up  for  centuries  in  Egypt  itself,  had  survived  else- 
where in  the  Mediterranean  area  and  in  Ethiopia  explains 
how  a  mixture  of  Egyptian  customs,  distinctive  of  a  great 
variety  of  different  ages  in  Egypt  itself,  may  have  been  dis- 
tributed abroad  at  one  and  the  same  time  by  such  mixed 
crews. 

In  her  great  monograph  Mrs.  Nuttall  refers  to  "the  great 
intellectual  movement  that  swept  at  one  time,  like  a  wave, 
over  the  ancient  centers  of  civilization";  anc]  she  quotes 
Huxley's  essay  on  "Evolution  and  Ethics1*  with  reference 
to  the  growth  of  Ionian  philosophy  during  "the  eighth, 
seventh,  and  sixth  centuries  before  our  era"  as  "one  of  the 
many  results  of  the  stirring  of  the  moral  and  intellectual 
life  of  the  Aryan-Semitic  population  of  Western  Asia",- but 
Huxley  was  careful  to  add  that  "the  Ionian  intellectual 
movement  is  only  one  of  the  several  sporadic  indications  of 


4<>8  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

some  powerful  mental  ferment  over  the  whole  of  the  area 
comprised  between  the  ^Egean  and  Northern  Hindustan." 
She  cites  other  evidence  that  points  to  the  seventh  century 
B.C.  as  about  the  time  of  the  extension  of  Mediterranean  in- 
fluence to  India  [and  Indian  influence  to  the  west]  through 
the  intermediation  of  the  Phoenicians. 

It  was  not,  however,  merely  to  India  that  this  diffusion  ex- 
tended, but  also  to  China  and  Mexico.  In  the  light  of  my  own 
investigations  I  am  inclined  to  reecho  the  words  of  Mrs. 
Nuttall:  "As  far  as  I  can  judge,  the  great  antiquity  at- 
tributed, by  Chinese  historians,  to  the  establishment  of  the 
governmental  and  cyclical  schemes,  still  in  use,  appears 
extremely  doubtful.  Referring  the  question  to  Sinologists,  I 
venture  to  ask  whether  it  does  not  seem  probable  that  the 
present  Chinese  scheme  dates  from  the  lifetime  of  Lao-tze, 
in  the  sixth  century  B.C.,  a  period  marked  by  the  growth  of 
Ionian  philosophy,  one  feature  of  which  was  the  invention  of 
numerical  schemes  applied  to  'divine  polities'  and  ideal  forms 
of  government." 

To  this  I  should  like  to  add  the  query,  whether  there  is  any 
real  evidence  that  the  art  of  writing  was  known  in  China 
before  that  time?  The  researches  of  Dr.  Alan  Gardiner 
make  it  abundantly  clear  that  the  art  of  writing  was  in- 
vented in  Egypt;  and  further  suggest  that  the  idea  must  have 
spread  from  Egypt  at  an  early  date  to  Western  Asia  and  the 
Mediterranean,  where  many  diversely  specialized  kinds  of 
script  developed.  Discussing  the  cultural  connection  between 
India  and  the  Persian  Gulf  "at  the  beginning  of  the  seventh 
(and  perhaps  at  the  end  of  the  eighth)  century  B.C.,"  my 
colleague  Professor  Rhys  Davids  adduces  evidence  in  demon- 
stration of  the  fact  that  the  written  scripts  of  India,  Ceylon, 
and  Burma  were  derived  from  that  of  "the  pre-Semitic  race 
now  called  Akkadians."  * 

Dr.  Schoff,  however,  in  his  remarkable  commentary  on 
the  "Periplus  of  the  Erythrean  Sea,"  claims  a  Phoenician 
origin  for  the  Dravidian  alphabet. 

If  then  the  knowledge  of  the  art  of  writing  reached  India 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  409 

with  the  great  wave  of  megalithic  culture,  it  might  be 
profitable  to  inquire  whether  the  development  of  Chinese 
writing  was  really  as  ancient  as  most  Sinologists  assume  it 
to  be,  or,  on  the  other  hand,  may  not  its  growth  also  have 
been  stimulated  by  the  same  "great  intellectual  ferment" 
which  is  recognized  as  having  brought  about  the  new  de- 
velopment in  India  ?  There  is,  of  course,  the  possibility  that 
the  knowledge  of  writing  may  have  reached  China  over- 
land even  before  it  is  known  to  have  reached  India. 

Professor  Rhys  Davids  also  calls  attention  to  "the  great 
and  essential  similarity"  between  the  "details  of  the  lower 
phases  of  religion  in  India  in  the  sixth  century  B.C.,  with 
the  beliefs  held,  not  only  at  the  same  time  in  the  other  cen- 
ters of  civilization — in  China,  Persia,  and  Egypt,  in  Italy 
and  Greece — but  also  among  the  savages  of  then  and  now"; 
with  reference  to  "a  further  and  more  striking  resemblance," 
he  quotes  Sir  Henry  Maine's  observation  that  "Nothing  is 
more  remarkable  than  the  extreme  fewness  of  progressive 
societies — the  difference  between  them  and  the  stationary 
races  is  one  of  the  greatest  secrets  inquiry  has  yet  to  pene- 
trate." 5 

But  is  it  not  patent  that  what  we  who  have  been  brought 
up  in  the  atmosphere  of  modern  civilization  call  "progress," 
is  the  striving  after  an  artificial  state  of  affairs,  like  all  the 
arts  and  crafts  of  civilization  itself,  created  by  a  special  set 
of  circumstances  in  one  spot,  the  Ancient  East?  There  is  no 
inborn  impulse  to  impel  other  people  to  become  "progres- 
sive societies"  in  our  acceptation  of  that  term:  in  the  past 
history  of  the  world  these  other  communities  only  began  to 
"progress"  when  they  had  been  inoculated  with  the  germs 
of  this  artificial  civilization  by  contact  with  the  peoples  o£ 
the  Eastern  Mediterranean  area. 

My  colleague  does  not  view  the  problem  in  this  light. 
For  him  it  is  the  most  "stupendous  marvel  in  the  whole 
history  of  mankind"  that  the  four  great  civilizations  which 
grew  up  in  the  river  basins  of  the  Nile  and  the  Euphrates, 
the  Ganges  and  the  Yellow  River — through  real  and  pro- 


410  THEMAKINGOFMAN 

gressive  civilizations,  whose  ideas  and  customs  were  no 
doubt  constantly  changing  and  growing — maintained  merely 
"a  certain  dead  level,  if  not  a  complete  absence  of  what  we 
should  call  philosophic  thought,"  and  "did  not  build  up 
any  large  and  general  views,  either  of  ethics,  or  of  philosophy, 
or  of  religion";  but  then  "suddenly,  and  almost  simul- 
taneously, and  almost  certainly  independently,  there  is  evi- 
dence, about  the  sixth  century  B.C.,  in  each  of  these  widely 
separated  centers  of  civilization,  of  a  leap  forward  in  specula- 
tive thought,  of  a  new  birth  in  ethics,  of  a  religion  of  con- 
science threatening  to  take  the  place  of  the  old  religion  of 
custom  and  magic." 

But  Professor  Rhys  Davids'  opinion  that  this  profound 
transformation  occurred  "almost  certainly  independently" 
is  hard  to  reconcile  with  the  fact,  which  he  clearly  explained 
earlier  in  the  same  book,  that  for  more  than  a  century  before 
the  time  of  this  "stupendous  marvel"  India  had  been  in 
touch  with  the  older  civilizations  of  the  West.8  All  of  the 
difficulties  of  this,  the  most  "suggestive  problem  awaiting 
the  solution  of  the  historian  of  human  thought,"  7  disappear 
once  the  extent  of  this  cultural  contact  with  the  West  is 
fully  realized. 

The  evidence  to  which  I  have  called  attention  here,  and 
elsewhere,  makes  it  appear  unlikely  that  these  momentous 
events  in  the  history  of  civilization  were  independent  one  of 
the  other;  to  me  it  seems  to  prove  definitely  and  most  con- 
clusively that  they  were  parts  of  one  connected  movement. 
The  "powerful  ferment"  of  which  Huxley  speaks  was  due 
to  the  action  upon  the  uncultured  population  of  India  (and 
in  turn  also  those  of  China,  Japan,  and  America)  of  the 
new  knowledge  brought  from  the  Eastern  Mediterranean 
by  the  Phoenician  mariners,  or  the  passengers  who  traveled 
with  them  in  their  trading  expeditions. 

To  quote  Mrs.  Nuttall  again:  "Just  as  the  older  Andean  art 
closely  resembles  that  of  the  early  Mediterranean,  an  ob- 
servation made  by  Professor  F.  W.  Putnam  (1899),  so  the 
fundamental  principles,  numerical  scheme,  and  plan  of  the 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  41! 

state  founded  by  the  foreign  Incas  in  Peru,  resembled  those 
formulated  by  Plato  in  his  description  of  an  ideal  state."  8 
As  one  of  the  results  of  their  intimate  intercourse  with  Egypt 
the  Phoenicians  had  adopted  many  of  the  Egyptian  customs 
and  beliefs,  as  well  as  becoming  proficient  in  its  arts  and 
crafts.  Perhaps  also  they  recruited  some  of  their  seamen 
from  the  Egyptians  who  had  been  accustomed  for  long  ages 
to  maritime  pursuits.  In  this  way  it  may  have  come  to  pass 
that,  when  the  Phoenicians  embarked  on  their  great  over- 
sea expeditions,  they  became  the  distributors  of  Egyptian 
practices.  They  did  not,  of  course,  spread  abroad  Egyptian 
culture  in  its  purest  form:  for  as  middlemen  they  selected 
for  adoption,  consciously  as  well  as  unconsciously,  certain 
of  its  constituent  elements  and  left  others.  Moreover,  they 
had  customs  of  their  own  and  practices  which  they  had 
borrowed  from  the  whole  Eastern  Mediterranean  world  as 
well  as  from  Mesopotamia. 

The  first  stage  of  the  oriental  extension  of  their  trafficking 
was  concerned  with  the  Red  Sea  and  immediately  beyond  the 
Straits  of  the  Bab-el-Mandeb.9  In  the  course  of  their  trading 
in  these  regions  the  travelers  freely  adopted  the  practices 
of  the  inhabitants  of  the  Ethiopian  coast  and  southern  Arabia 
— customs  which  in  many  cases  had  been  derived  originally 
from  Egypt  and  had  slowly  percolated  up  the  Nile,  and 
eventually,  with  many  modifications  and  additions,  reached 
the  region  of  the  Somali  coast.  Whether  this  adoption  oi 
Ethiopian  customs  was  the  result  merely  of  intercourse  with 
the  natives  in  the  Sabacan  and  East  African  ports,  or  was 
to  be  attributed  to  the  actual  recruiting  of  seamen  for  the 
oriental  expeditions  from  those  regions,  there  is  no  evidence 
to  permit  us  to  say:  but  judging  from  the  analogies  of 
what  is  known  to  have  happened  elsewhere,  it  is  practically 
certain  that  the  latter  suggestion  alone  affords  an  adequate 
explanation  of  the  potent  influence  exerted  by  these 
Ethiopian  practices  in  the  Far  East.  For  such  a  complete 
transference  of  customs  and  beliefs  from  one  country  to 
another  can  occur  only  when  the  people  who  practice  them 


412  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

migrate  from  their  homeland  and  settle  in  the  new  country. 
It  is,  of  course,  well  recognized  that  from  the  eighth  century 
onward,  if  not  before  then,  there  has  been  some  intercourse 
between  East  Africa  and  India,  and  the  whole  of  the  inter- 
vening littoral  of  Southern  Asia.10 

For  reasons  that  I  have  explained  elsewhere  it  is  probable 
that,  even  as  early  as  the  time  of  the  First  Egyptian  Dynasty, 
maritime  intercourse  was  already  taking  place  along  the 
whole  Arabian  coast,  and  even  linking  up  in  cultural  contact 
the  nascent  civilizations  developing  in  the  Nile  Valley  and 
near  the  head  of  the  Persian  Gulf.  No  doubt  the  following 
twenty-five  centuries  witnessed  a  gradual  development  and 
oriental  extension  of  this  littoral  intercommunication:  but 
from  the  eighth  century  onward  the  current  flowed  more 
strongly  and  in  immeasurably  greater  volume.  The  western 
coast  of  India  was  subjected  to  the  full  force  of  a  cultural 
stream  in  which  the  influences  of  Egypt  and  the  Eastern 
Mediterranean  world,  Ethiopia,  Arabia,  and  Babylonia  were 
blended  by  the  Phoenicians,  who  no  doubt  were  mainly  re- 
sponsible for  controlling  and  directing  the  current  for  their 
own  pecuniary  benefit. 

This  easterly  stream,  as  I  have  already  explained  above, 
was  responsible  for  originating  in  India  and  Ceylon,  at  about 
the  same  time,  temples  of  New  Empire  Egyptian  type, 
dolmens  which  represent  the  Old  Empire  type,  rounded 
tumuli  which  might  be  regarded  as  Mycenean,  and  seven- 
stepped  stone  Pyramids  as  Chaldean,  modifications  of 
Egyptian  Pyramids;  and  if  the  monuments  farther  east 
are  taken  into  consideration,  the  blended  influences  of  Egypt, 
Babylonia,  and  India  become  even  more  definitely  mani- 
fested. In  studying  the  oriental  spread  of  Egyptian  ideas  and 
practices  it  must  constantly  be  borne  in  mind  that  it  was 
the  rare  exception  rather  than  the  rule  for  the  influence  of 
such  things  to  be  exerted  directly,  as  for  example  when 
Cyrus  definitely  adopted  Egyptian  funerary  customs  and 
methods  of  tomb-construction.  His  successors  even  em- 
ployed Egyptian  craftsmen  to  carry  out  the  work.  In  most 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  413* 

cases  an  alien  people,  the  Phoenicians,  were  responsible  for 
transmitting  these  customs  to  India  and  the  Further  East, 
and  not  only  did  they  modify  them  themselves,  but  in  addi- 
tion they,  or  the  crews  of  their  ships,  carried  to  the  East  the 
influence  of  Egyptian  practices  which  had  been  adopted  by 
various  other  alien  peoples  and  had  suffered  more  or  less 
transformation.  In  this  way  alone  is  it  possible  to  explain 
how  large  a  part  was  played  in  this  easterly  migration  of 
culture  by  the  customs  of  Ethiopia.  For  many  centuries  the 
effects  of  Egyptian  civilization  had  been  slowly  percolating 
up  the  Nile  amongst  a  variety  of  people,  and  ultimately, 
with  many  additions  and  modifications,  made  themselves  ap- 
parent among  the  littoral  population  of  East  Africa.  Such 
Ethiopian  transformations  of  Egyptian  ideas  and  customs 
form  a  very  obtrusive  element  in  the  cultural  wave  which 
flowed  to  India,  Indonesia,  and  Oceania. 

It  is  instructive  to  compare  the  outstanding  features  of 
tomb  and  temple-construction  in  Egypt  with  those  of  the 
Asiatic  and  American  civilization.  In  Egypt  it  is  possible 
to  study  the  gradual  evolution  of  the  temple  and  to  realize 
in  some  measure  the  circumstances  and  ideas  which 
prompted  the  development  and  the  accentuation  of  certain 
features  at  the  expense  of  others. 

For  example,  the  conception  of  the  door  of  a  tomb  or 
temple  as  symbolizing  the  means  of  communication  be- 
tween the  living  and  the  dead  was  apparent  even  in  Proto- 
dynastic  times,  and  gradually  became  so  insistent  that  by 
the  time  of  the  New  Empire  the  Egyptian  temple  has  been 
converted  into  a  series  of  monstrously  overgrown  gateways 
or  pylons,  which  dwarfed  all  the  other  features  into  in- 
significance. The  same  feature  revealed  itself  in  the  Dravidian 
temples  of  Southern  India;  and  the  obtrusive  gateways  of 
Further  Asiatic  temples,  no  less  than  the  symbolic  wooden 
structures  found  in  China  and  Japan  (Torii),  are  certainly 
manifestations  of  the  same  conception. 

Among  less  cultured  people,  such  as  the  Fijians,  who  were 
unable  to  reproduce  this  feature  of  the  Egyptian  and  Indian 


414  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

temples,  the  general  plan,  without  the  great  pylons  or 
gopurams,  was  imitated.  The  Fijians  have  a  tradition  that 
the  people  who  built  these  great  stone  enclosures  came  across 
the  sea  from  the  West. 

Other  features  of  the  Egyptian  temples  of  the  New  Empire 
period,  which  were  widely  adopted  in  other  lands,  were  the 
placing  of  colossal  statues  alongside  the  doorway,  as  in  the 
Ramesseum  at  Thebes,  the  construction  of  a  causeway  lead- 
ing up  to  the  temple,  flanked  with  stones,  carved  or  un- 
carved,  such  as  the  avenue  of  sphinxes  at  Karnak,  and  the 
excavation  of  elaborate  rock-cut  temples  such  as  that  at  Abu- 
Simbel.  In  the  temples  of  India,  Cambodia,  China,  and 
America  such  features  repeatedly  occur. 

A  whole  volume  might  be  written  on  the  evidence  sup- 
plied by  Oriental  and  American  Pyramids  of  the  precise  way 
in  which  the  influences  of  Egypt,  Babylonia,  and  the  ^Egean 
were  blended  in  these  monuments. 

In  the  Far  East  and  America  the  Chaldean  custom 
obtained  of  erecting  the  temple  upon  the  summit  of  a  trun- 
cated Pyramid.  In  Palenque  and  Chiapas,  as  well  as  else- 
where in  the  Isthmus  region  of  America,  many  temples  are 
found  thus  perched  upon  the  tops  of  Pyramids.  In  design 
they  are  essentially  Egyptian,  not  only  as  regards  their  plan, 
but  also  in  the  details  of  their  decoration,  from  the  winged 
disc  upon  the  lintel,  to  the  reliefs  within  the  sanctuary.  For 
in  the  Palenque  temples  are  depicted  scenes  strictly  com- 
parable to  those  found  in  the  New  Empire  Thcban  temples. 

I  need  not  enter  into  the  discussion  of  mummification  and 
the  very  precise  evidence  it  affords  of  the  easterly  spread  of 
Egyptian  influence,  for  I  have  devoted  a  special  memoir  to 
the  consideration  of  its  significance.  I  should  like  to  make 
it  plain,  however,  that  it  was  the  data  afforded  by  the 
technique  of  the  earliest  method  of  embalming  that  is  known 
to  have  been  adopted  in  the  Far  East  which  led  me  to  assign 
the  age  of  the  commencement  of  its  migration  to  a  time 
probably  not  earlier  than  the  eighth  century  B.C.;  and  that 
this  conclusion  was  reached  long  before  I  was  aware  of  all 


SOCIA^    ORGANIZATION  f^ 

the  other  evidence  of  most  varied  nature J1  which  points 
to  the  same  general  conclusion.  As  several  different  methods 
of  embalming,  Late  New  Empire,  Graeco-Roman,  and 
Coptic,  are  known  to  have  reached  India  it  is  quite  clear 
that  at  least  three  distinct  cultural  waves  proceeded  to  the 
East:  but  the  first,  which  planted  the  germs  of  the  new 
culture  on  the  practically  virgin  soil  of  the  untutored  East, 
exerted  an  infinitely  profounder  influence  than  all  that  came 
after. 

In  fact  most  of  the  obtrusive  elements  of  the  megalithic 
culture,  with  its  strange  jumble  of  associated  practices,  beliefs, 
and  traditions,  certainly  traveled  in  the  first  great  wavey 
somewhere  about  the  time  of,  perhaps  a  little  earlier  or 
later  than,  the  seventh  century  B.C. 

Although  in  this  lecture  I  am  primarily  concerned  with  the 
demonstration  of  the  influence  exerted,  directly  or  indirectly, 
by  Egyptian  culture  in  the  East,  it  is  important  to  obtain  con- 
firmation from  other  evidence  of  the  date  which  the  former 
led  me  to  assign  to  the  great  migration.  I  have  already  re- 
ferred to  the  facts  cited  by  Mrs.  Nuttall  in  proof  of  her 
contention  that  Ionian  ideas  spread  East  and  ultimately 
reached  America.  Since  her  great  monograph  was  written  she 
has  given  an  even  more  precise  and  convincing  proof  of  the 
influence  of  the  Phoenician  world  on  America  by  describing 
how  the  use  of  Tyrian  purple  extended  as  far  as  Mexico  in 
Pre-Columbian  times.  The  associated  use  of  conch-shell 
trumpets  and  pearls  is  peculiarly  instructive:  the  geo- 
graphical distribution  of  the  former  enables  one  to  chart 
the  route  taken  by  this  spread  of  culture,  while  the  latter 
(the  pearl-fisheries)  supply  one  of  the  motives  which  at- 
tracted the  wanderers  and  led  them  on  until  eventually 
they  reached  the  New  World. 

Professor  Bosanquet  has  adduced  evidence  suggesting  that 
Purpura  was  first  used  by  the  Minoans:  in  Crete  also  the 
conch-shell  trumpet  was  employed  in  the  temple  services. 
No  doubt  the  Phoenicians  acquired  these  customs  from  the 
Mycenean  peoples. 


416  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

In  his  monograph  on  "The  Sacred  Chank  o£  India*' 
(1914)  Mr.  James  Hornell  has  filled  in  an  important  gap 
in  the  chain  of  distribution  given  by  Mrs.  Nuttall.  He  has 
not  only  confirmed  her  opinion  as  to  the  close  association  of 
the  conch-shell  trumpet  and  pearls,  but  also  has  shown  what 
an  important  role  these  shells  have  played  in  India  from 
Dravidian  times  onward.  His  evidence  is  doubly  welcome, 
not  only  because  it  links  up  the  use  of  the  Chank  with  so 
many  elements  of  the  megalithic  culture  and  of  the  temple 
ritual  in  India,  but  also  because  it  affords  additional  con- 
firmation of  the  date  which  I  have  assigned  for  the  intro- 
duction of  the  former  into  India. 

In  India  these  new  elements  of  culture  took  deep  root  and 
developed  into  the  luxurious  growth  of  so-called  Dravidian 
civilization,  which  played  a  great  part  in  shaping  the  cus- 
toms and  practices  of  the  later  Brahmanical  and  Buddhist 
cults.  From  India  a  series  of  migrations  carried  the  mega- 
lithic customs  and  beliefs,  and  their  distinctively  Indian  de- 
velopments, farther  east  to  Burma,  Indonesia,  China,  and 
Japan;  and,  with  many  additions  from  these  countries, 
streams  of  wanderers  for  many  centuries  carried  them  out 
into  the  islands  of  the  Pacific  and  eventually  to  the  shores 
of  America,  where  there  grew  up  a  highly  organized  but 
exotic  civilization  compounded  of  the  elements  of  the  Old 
World's  ancient  culture,  the  most  outstanding  and  dis- 
tinctive ingredients  of  which  came  originally  from  Ancient 
Egypt. 

I  do  not  possess  the  special  knowledge  to  estimate  the 
reliability  of  M.  Terrien  de  Lacouperie's  remarkable  views 
on  the  origin  of  Chinese  civilization,  some  of  which  seem 
to  be  highly  speculative.  But  there  is  a  sufficient  mass  of 
precise  information,  based  upon  the  writings  of  creditable 
authorities,  to  discount  in  large  measure  the  wholesale 
condemnation  of  his  opinions  in  recent  years.  Whatever 
justification,  or  lack  of  it,  there  may  be  for  his  statements 
as  to  the  early  overland  connection  between  Mesopotamia 
and  China,  his  views  concerning  the  later  maritime  inter- 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  417 

course  between  the  Red  Sea,  Persian  Gulf,  India  and  Indo- 
China,  and  China  are  in  remarkable  accordance  with  the 
opinions  which,  in  the  absence  of  any  previous  acquaintance 
with  his  writings,  I  have  set  forth  here,  not  only  as  regards 
the  nature  of  the  migration  and  the  sources  of  the  elements 
of  culture,  but  also  the  date  of  its  arrival  in  the  far  east 
and  the  motives  which  induced  traders  to  go  there. 

There  can  be  no  reasonable  doubt  that  Asiatic  civiliza- 
tion reached  America  partly  by  way  of  Polynesia,  as  well 
as  directly  from  Japan,  and  also  by  the  Aleutian  route. 

The  immensely  formidable  task  of  spanning  the  broac! 
Pacific  to  reach  the  coasts  of  America  presents  no  difficulty 
to  the  student  of  early  migrations.  "The  islands  of  the 
Pacific  were  practically  all  inhabited  long  before  Tasman 
and  Cook  made  their  appearance  in  Pacific  waters.  Intrepid 
navigators  had  sailed  their  canoes  north  and  south,  east 
and  west,  until  their  language  and  their  customs  had  been 
carried  into  every  corner  of  the  ocean.  These  Polynesian 
sailors  had  extended  their  voyages  from  Hawaii  in  the 
North  to  the  fringe  of  the  ice-fields  in  the  Far  South,  and 
from  the  coast  of  South  America  on  the  East  to  the  Philip- 
pine Islands  on  the  West.  No  voyage  seems  to  have  been  too 
extended  for  them,  no  peril  too  great  for  them  to  brave." 

Mr.  Elsdon  Best,  from  whose  writings  I  have  taken  the 
above  quotation,  answers  the  common  objection  that  the 
frailness  of  the  early  canoes  was  incompatible  with  such 
journeys.  "As  a  matter  of  fact  the  sea-going  canoe  of  the 
ancient  Maori  was  by  no  means  frail :  it  was  a  much  stronger 
vessel  than  the  eighteen-foot  boat  in  which  Bligh  and  his 
companions  navigated  3,600  miles  of  the  Pacific  after  the 
mutiny  of  the  'Bounty.' " 

Thirty  generations  ago  Toi,  when  leaving  Raratonga  to 
seek  the  islands  of  New  Zealand,  said,  "I  will  range  the  wide 
seas  until  I  reach  the  land-head  at  Aotearoa,  the  moisture- 
laden  land  discovered  by  Kupe,  or  be  engulfed  forever  in 
the  depths  of  Hine-moana." 


<fl8  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

It  was  in  this  spirit  that  the  broad  Pacific  was  bridged  and 
the  civilization  of  the  Old  World  carried  to  America. 

When  one  considers  the  enormous  extent  of  the  journey, 
and  the  multitude  and  variety  of  the  vicissitudes  encountered 
upon  the  way,  it  is  a  most  remarkable  circumstance  that 
practically  the  whole  of  the  complex  structure  of  the 
megalithic  culture  should  have  reached  the  shores  of  Amer- 
ica. Hardly  any  of  the  items  in  the  large  series  of  customs  and 
beliefs  enumerated  at  the  commencement  of  this  lecture 
failed  to  get  to  America  in  pre-Columbian  times.  The  practice 
of  mummification,  with  modifications  due  to  Polynesian 
and  other  oriental  influences;  the  characteristically  Egyptian 
elements  of  its  associated  ritual,  such  as  the  use  of  incense 
and  libations;  and  beliefs  concerning  the  soul's  wanderings 
in  the  underworld,  where  it  undergoes  the  same  vicissitudes 
as  it  was  supposed  to  encounter  in  Pharaonic  times  [New 
Empire] — all  were  found  in  Mexico  and  elsewhere  in  Amer- 
ica, with  a  multitude  of  corroborative  detail  to  indicate  the 
influence  exerted  by  Ethiopia,  Babylonia,  India,  Indonesia, 
China,  Japan,  and  Oceania,  during  the  progress  of  their 
oriental  migration.  The  general  conception,  no  less  than 
the  details  of  their  construction  and  the  associated  beliefs, 
make  it  equally  certain  that  the  megalithic  monuments  of 
America  were  inspired  by  those  of  the  ancient  East;  and 
while  the  influences  which  are  most  obtrusively  displayed  in 
them  are  clearly  Egyptian  and  Babylonian,  the  effects  of  the 
accretions  from  the  ^Egean,  India,  Cambodia,  and  Eastern 
Asia  are  equally  unmistakable.  The  use  of  idols  and  stone 
seats,  beliefs  in  the  possibility  of  men  or  animals  dwelling 
in  stones,  and  the  complementary  supposition  that  men  and 
animals  may  become  petrified,  the  story  of  the  deluge,  of 
the  divine  origin  of  kings,  who  are  regarded  as  the  children 
of  the  sun  or  the  sky,  and  the  incestuous  origin  of  'the 
chosen  people — the  whole  of  this  complexly  interwoven  series 
of  characteristically  Egypto-Babylonian  practices  and  beliefs 
reappeared  in  America  in  pre-Columbian  times,  as  also  did 
the  worship  of  the  sun  and  the  beliefs  regarding  serpents, 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  41$ 

including  a  great  part  of  the  remarkably  complex  and  wholl) 
artificial  symbolism  associated  with  this  sun  and  serpent- 
worship.  Circumcision,  tattooing,  piercing  and  distending  the 
ear-lobules,  artificial  deformation  of  the  head,  trephining, 
weaving  linen,  the  use  of  Tyrian  purple,  conch-shell  trum- 
pets, a  special  appreciation  of  pearls,  precious  stones,  and 
metals,  certain  definite  methods  of  mining  and  extraction 
of  metals,  terraced  irrigation,  the  use  of  the  swastika-symbol, 
beliefs  regarding  thunder-bolts  and  thunder-teeth,  certain 
phallic  practices,  the  boomerang,  the  beliefs  regarding  the 
"heavenly  twins,"  the  practice  of  couvade,  the  custom  of 
building  special  "men's  houses"  and  the  institution  of  secret 
societies,  the  art  of  writing,  certain  astronomical  ideas,  and 
entirely  arbitrary  notions  concerning  a  calendrical  system, 
the  subdivisions  of  time,  and  the  constitution  of  the  state- 
all  of  these  and  many  other  features  of  pre-Columbian  civ- 
ilization are  each  and  all  distinctive  tokens  of  influence  of 
the  culture  of  the  Old  World  upon  that  of  the  New.  Not 
the  least  striking  demonstration  of  this  borrowing  from 
the  old  world  is  afforded  by  games. 

When  in  addition  it  is  considered  that  most,  if  not  all,  of 
this  variegated  assortment  of  customs  and  beliefs  are  linked 
one  to  the  other  in  a  definite  and  artificial  system,  which 
agrees  with  that  which  is  known  to  have  grown  up  some- 
where in  the  neighborhood  of  the  Eastern  Mediterranean, 
there  can  no  longer  be  any  reasonable  doubt  as  to  the  deriva- 
tion of  the  early  American  civilization  from  the  latter  source. 

All  the  stories  of  culture-heroes  which  the  natives  tell 
corroborate  the  inferences  which  I  have  drawn  from  ethno- 
logical data. 

When  to  this  positive  demonstration  is  added  the  evidence 
of  the  exact  relationship  of  the  localities  where  this  exotic 
Old  World  culture  took  root  in  America  to  the  occurrence 
of  pearl-shell  and  precious  metals,  the  proof  is  clinched  by 
these  unmistakable  tokens  that  the  same  Phoenician  methods 
which  led  to  the  diffusion  of  this  culture-complex  in  the 
Old  World  also  were  responsible  for  planting  it  in  the 


42C.)  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

New  some  centuries  after  the  Phoenicians  themselves  had 
zeased  to  be. 

In  these  remarks  I  have  been  dealing  primarily  with  the 
influence  of  Ancient  Egyptian  civilization;  but  in  concen- 
trating attention  upon  this  one  source  of  American  culture 
it  must  not  be  supposed  that  I  am  attempting  to  minimize 
the  extent  of  the  contributions  from  Asia.  From  India  Amer- 
ica took  over  the  major  part  of  her  remarkable  pantheon, 
including  practically  the  whole  of  the  beliefs  associated  with 
the  worship  of  Indra. 

NOTES 

1  For  a  concise  summary  of  the  evidence  see  pp.  120,  et  seq. 
*  Ancient  East,  pp.  154-159. 

8  Xxvii:  9  et  seq. 

4  "Buddhist  India,  p.  116. 
6  Ancient  Law,  p.  22. 

0  Buddhist  India,  pp.  70  and  113  et  seq. 

1  Ibid.,  p.  239. 
s  Pp.  545-6. 

9  In  his  scholarly  commentary  on  The  Periplus  of  the  Erythrean  Sea, 
Dr.  SchofT  gives,  in  a  series  of  explanatory  notes,  a  most  illuminating  sum- 
mary of  the  literature 'relating  to  all  these  early  trading  expeditions.  The 
reader  who  questions  my  remarks  on  these  matters  should  consult  his  lucid 
digest  of  an  immense  mass  of  historical  documents. 

10  See  Schorl's  commentaries  on  the  Periplus. 

11  Mentioned  in  the  writings  of  Vincent  Smith,  Rhys-Davids,  Crooke, 
Nuttall,  Oldham,  and  many  others. 


CAUSALITY  AND  CULTURE* 

By  F.  GRAEBNER 

§  i.  IN  his  Volkerkunde l  Ratzel  demands  of  the  ethnolo- 
gist that  he  observe  various  cultures  not  merely  as  local 
phenomena,  but  that 'he  go  beyond  that  and  establish  the 
temporal  and  causal  relationships  existing  between  them.  In 
application  of  this  principle  I  have  shown  that  the  origin  of 
numerous  cultural  forms  is  conditioned  by  the  meeting  and 
interaction  of  various  cultural  phenomena.  I  demonstrated 
furthermore  that  this  meeting  of  cultures,  as  well  as  the 
emergence  of  the  individual  elements  of  culture  and  entire 
cultural  complexes  is  the  result  of  migration,  and  that  the 
course  pursued  by  such  migrations  can  be  clearly  traced. 
We  meet  with  difficulty,  however,  when  we  attempt  to 
establish  the  nature  of  these  migratory  movements.  Were 
they  large-scale  migrations  or  merely  the  result  of  inter- 
course between  tribes,  accompanied  by  gradual  intermar- 
riage? Unfortunately  the  existing  elements  within  a  given 
culture  fail  to  provide  us  with  irrefutable  criteria  toward  the 
solution  of  this  question.  It  is  only  in  the  case  of  the  feeble 
contemporary  offshoots  of  these  movements  that  we  can 
observe  the  process  at  work.  In  problems  such  as  this, 
anthropology  can  be  of  great  aid  to  the  ethnologist.  Ob- 
viously enough,  the  reverse  does  not  follow,  since,  aside  from 
the  possibility  of  a  secondary  absorption  of  the  original 
traits,  a  strong  indication  of  migratory  movements  is  a 
definite  linguistic  relationship.  Indeed,  we  know  of  not  one 
instance  in  which  a  language  has  been  transmitted  over  lonj 
distances  without  live  personal  contact  between  the  people 
who  spoke  it. 

*Mcthode  der  Ethnologic,  appearing  in  Kulturgeschichthche  Bibtiothek 
edited  by  W.  Foy.  First  scries,  fyhnologische  Bibliothck*  published  by  Carl 
Winter's  Universitatsbuchhandlung,  Heidelberg. 

421 


422  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

An  attempt  has  been  made  to  distinguish  between  cul- 
tural elements  that  are  easily  transferable  and  those  that  are 
not.  However,  the  supposition  that  mental  culture  is  less 
freely  transferable  than  material  culture,2  because  the  latter 
may  be  spread  through  commerce,  is  decidedly  fallacious. 
To  mention  but  one  contradictory  evidence,  I  need  only  cite 
the  well-known  spread  of  legends  and  adoption  of  foreign 
religious  ceremonies,  which  has  been  proved  to  exist  in 
Australia.  A  more  appropriate  method  of  establishing  the 
transferability  of  a  given  cultural  trait  is  Vierkandt's  classi- 
fication of  cultural  elements  according  to  the  amount  of 
training  required  for  their  reception  and  to  the  degree  of 
their  attractiveness.3  But,  above  all,  let  us  beware  of  a  priori 
judgments  when  we  decide  which  cultural  phenomena  fall 
into  any  given  category.  We  must  draw  individual  infer- 
ences from  the  conditions  surrounding  each  single  case.  The 
importance  to  us  of  this  consideration  lies  therein  that  the 
lower  the  receptivity  of  a  given  cultural  element  the  less 
probable — though  not  impossible — is  its  external  dissemina- 
tion without  the  aid  of  migration.  As  a  final  criterion  we 
must  bear  in  mind  that  the  complete  or  nearly  complete 
appearance  of  identical  cultures  in  widely  separated  localities 
is  hardly  thinkable  without  the  aid  of  migrations,  for  an 
external  dissemination  from  tribe  to  tribe  over  long  dis- 
tances must  result  in  the  diversification  and  weakening  of 
the  complex,  so  that,  near  the  outskirts  of  the  movement, 
we  may  perhaps  discern  a  few  disconnected  elements  or 
weakened  forms  of  the  whole  complex,  but  never  the  com- 
plex itself  as  a  complete  unit.  The  shorter  the  distance  sepa- 
rating the  two  cultures  in  question,  the  less  weight  does  this 
argument  naturally  carry.  Nevertheless,  we  may  safely  as- 
sume that  the  more  complete  the  reappearance  of  a  cultural 
complex  in  another  locality,  the  less  credible  appears  its 
transfer  without  migration. 

§  2.  It  would  be  folly  to  deny  the  relative  meagerness  of 
information  concerning  external  causality  in  ethnology,  as 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  423 

compared  with  the  varied  sources  open  to  the  student  of  the 
strictly  historical  periods  of  mankind.  Indeed,  we  lack  bare 
records  of  the  events  themselves,  not  to  mention  a  political 
history  of  the  period  into  which  they  fall.  Consequently,  we 
can  never  expect  to  advance  beyond  a  rough  outline  of  such 
movements.  Their  individual  traits  must,  perhaps,  be  for- 
ever lost  to  us.  Their  causes — overpopulation,  the  pressure 
of  other  races,  and,  in  the  case  of  the  earliest  history,  per- 
haps the  coming  and  disappearing  of  the  diluvial  ice  age-  - 
we  can  only  divine,  but  never  prove.  Nevertheless,  so  long 
as  we  are  only  concerned  with  external  causation,  we  may 
quite  objectively  derive  certain  important  causal  relation- 
ships from  the  given  facts. 

The  danger  of  fanciful  interpretation  is  far  greater  in  the 
problem  of  internal  causation,  that  is,  the  question  of 
what  causes  any  cultural  phenomenon  to  arise  or  undergo 
changes.  In  no  historical  criticism  is  a  real  understanding 
of  causation  and  origins  thinkable,  without  psychologic  re' 
experience  of  the  events  depicted.  There  is  a  vast  difference, 
however,  between  the  position  of  the  historian  and  ours.  In 
the  description  of  historic  events  in  Europe  we  can  not  only 
see  the  events  and  their  effects  directly  before  us  at  the  mo- 
ment of  occurrence,  that  is,  in  their  immediate  psychic 
reality,  but,  in  addition,  we  can  also  meet  the  people  who 
are  their  objects  and  subjects.  In  the  observation  of  pre- 
historic migratory  movements,  on  the  other  hand,  we  can 
perceive  their  effects  alone.  And  the  causes  of  these  effects, 
moreover,  date  back  to  the  remotest  ages,  while  the  people 
subjected  to  them  can  be  nothing  more  to  us  than  mere  ab- 
stractions of  man,  conceived  after  the  image  of  living  races, 
and,  at  best,  perhaps  slightly  modified  by  our  vague  concept 
of  what  constitutes  primitive  life.  The  only  modification 
permissible,  however,  in  view  of  the  evidence  at  hand, 
would  be  an  explanation  growing  directly  out  of  the  land 
and  people  who  are  the  setting  of  these  events.  Such  an 
explanation,  the  very  supposition,  if  not  actual  proof,  of 
widespread  migrations  of  culture,  renders  impossible.  This 


*P4  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

difficulty  is  yet  complicated  by  our  habit  of  viewing  all  cul- 
tural phenomena  in  the  light  of  their  present-day  setting. 
But  such  an  interpretation  is  permissible  only  in  the  case  of 
those  traits  which  can,  according  to  culture-historical  stand- 
ards, be  viewed  as  local  phenomena.  Thus,  for  instance,  it 
is  not  improbable  that  the  pronounced  Central  Australian 
form  of  magic  totemism  is  conditioned  in  part  at  least  by 
the  climatic  peculiarities  of  its  place  of  occurrence.4  It  must 
be  noted,  however,  that  this  limitation  applies  only  to  the 
origin  of  these  phenomena  and  subphenomena.  And  even  in 
the  case  of  those  elements  which  are  local,  we  cannot  al- 
ways treat  the  natural  environment  as  causal.  For,  in  the 
first  place,  a  phenomenon  of  culture — and  this  is  particularly 
true  of  economic  factors — can  persist  unaltered  only  under 
unaltered  geographic  conditions.6  Furthermore,  it  can  be 
safely  assumed  that  a  spreading  culture  will  invade  at  first 
and  most  intensely  those  regions  whose  geographic  condi- 
tions are  most  favorable  to  it.  In  both  of  these  instances  the 
geographic  environment  is  but  a  factor  and  not  a  cause. 
Wherever  it  is  not — or  at  least  only  partially — feasible  to  ex- 
plain a  cultural  phenomenon  from  the  geographic  setting 
of  its  present  place  of  occurrence,  the  paths  of  distribution  of 
the  individual  complexes  at  least  permit  of  fairly  safe  con- 
clusions concerning  the  approximate  place  of  origin  of  the 
entire  complex-group.  Sometimes  one  group,  taken  as  a 
whole,  may  even  point  definitely  to  one  land  of  origin. 
This,  at  least,  was  Frobenius'  contention  about  the  Malayo- 
Negritic  culture.6  I  feel,  however,  that  he  was  only  partially 
justified.  With  conclusions  of  this  nature,  extreme  caution 
is  always  in  place.  Indeed  it  is  highly  probable  that  we  may 
never  advance  beyond  the  hypothesis  stage  in  this  subject, 
a  circumstance  which  students  of  ethnology  should  never 

lose  sight  of. 

•  ••••• 

§  4.  The  question  of  cultural  determinants  fortunately  per- 
mits more  substantial  conclusions  that  the  above.  To  be 
sure,  in  this  case,  too,  the  knowledge  of  historic  relationships 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  425 

derived  by  our  method  is  not  able  to  give  us  a  vivid  picture 
of  the  entire  culture  at  the  time  when  a  new  complex  was 
created  or  an  old  one  changed,  not  to  mention  the  individual 
processes  that  led  up  to  it.  Thanks  to  our  method,  however, 
we  can  at  least  determine  the  complex  or  group  of  which 
the  element  in  question  is  a  part.  This  factor  is  capable  of 
so  far  narrowing  down  the  number  of  possible  explana- 
tions that  it  will  in  many  instances  actually  permit  of  only 
one  interpretation.  As  an  illustration  of  this  we  might  con- 
sider the  origin  of  burial  in  squatting  position.  It  has  fre- 
quently been  asked  whether  this  form  of  burial  is  supposed 
to  be  an  imitation  of  the  foetus  stage  or  whether  it  was  em- 
ployed to  shackle  the  dead.7  The  only  acceptable  reply  in 
this  case  is  governed  by  the  simple  fact  that  the  cultural 
group  in  which  this  form  of  burial  has  been  proved  to  have 
appeared  at  first  is  not  afraid  of  its  dead.  Similarly  Pater  W. 
Schmidt  contends  that  the  chief  gods  of  South-East  Aus- 
tralia owe  their  origin  neither  to  mythologic  concepts,  nor 
to  magic  or  animism.8  He  would  no  doubt  be  justified  in 
this  contention,  if  he  could  prove  the  absence— or  at  least 
very  feeble  development — of  these  three  elements  in  the 
cultural  group  in  question.  His  proof  fails,  because  these 
suppositions  are  most  likely  unfounded.  The  principle  in 
question,  briefly  stated,  is:  A  cultural  phenomenon  can  be 
interpreted  only  through  the  ideologies  of  those  cultural 
groups  of  which  they  are  part.  This  principle  will  allow 
a  certain  flexibility,  to  be  sure,  but  this  flexibility  can  at  best 
be  only  very  slight;  namely,  the  elements  in  question  may 
have  been  derived  from  an  older  culture.  To  be  precise,  the 
origin  of  a  phenomenon  or  form  of  culture  can  always  be 
assumed  to  fall  into  a  period  that  is  ended  when  the  new 
phenomenon  or  form  is  complete,  but  which  begins  when 
the  mother  complex  undergoes  its  first  modification.  The 
roots,  therefore,  of  the  earliest  manifestations  of  the  daughter 
complex  must  be  sought  in  the  conditions  surrounding  the 
mother  complex.  Thus  it  appears  that  even  seemingly  new 
phenomena  do  not  spring  full-clad  from  the  head  of  a 


426  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

Jupiter  in  imitation  of  Pallas  Athena.  They  evolve  gradually 
from  earlier  phenomena  and  ideas  and  must  be  viewed  in 
the  widest  sense  as  nothing  more  than  mutations  and  con- 
tinuations of  the  older  cultures.9  It  was  in  application  of 
this  point  of  view  that  M.  Schmidt  sought  to  interpret  the 
highly  developed  forms  of  meander  and  spiral  ornaments 
as  results  of  the  weaving  technic  practiced  in  a  certain  cul- 
tural region  of  America.10  There  no  doubt  exists  the  rela- 
tionship between  these  forms  which  he  mentions.  Indeed 
the  spiral  ornaments  actually  belong  to  the  same  group  in 
which  the  particular  type  of  weaving  technic  is  employed.11 
In  so  far  his  proof  would  appear  to  be  incontestable.  It  falls 
down,  nevertheless,  because  the  more  developed  types  of 
weaving,  from  which  alone  the  later  ornaments  could  have 
been  derived,  are  younger  than  the  spiral  ornaments,  not  to 
mention  the  meander.  On  the  other  hand,  we  can  conclude 
with  certainty  that  the  institution  of  head  hunting  is  de- 
rived from  s^ull-worship.  Both  practices  belong  to  the  same 
cultural  group.  Skull-worship,  moreover,  is  also  represented 
in  an  older  sister  group,  thus  also  being  chronologically  the 
older  of  the  two  elements. 

These  last  few  cases  ofTer  a  significant  illustration  of  the 
general  rule  that  no  phenomenon  of  culture  can  be  derived 
from  a  group  or  complex  which  is  culture-historically 
younger  than  it.  In  particular,  an  explanation  based  upon 
local  cultural  conditions  is  admissible  only  in  the  case  of 
those  elements  and  forms  which,  from  the  culture-historical 
point  of  view,  may  be  characterized  as  local  peculiarities. 
It  must  be  borne  in  mind,  however,  that  their  local  character 
must  be  established  beyond  doubt.  Thus,  for  instance,  it  had 
until  recently  seemed  justified  to  look  for  the  strange  motif 
of  subincisio  in  the  sexual  attitudes  of  those  Australian 
tribes  who  alone  were  known  to  practice  it.12  This  explana- 
tion was  completely  overthown  by  the  discovery  that  the 
same  operation  is  practiced  by  the  Fiji  Islanders,  who  moti- 
vate it  quite  differently.18 

When  we  are  dealing  with  the  products  of  mixed  culture^ 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  427 

this  general  principle,  naturally  applies  likewise,  with  the 
only  distinction  that,  instead  of  one  single  complex,  the 
several  composing  elements  of  the  mixture  must  be  taken 
into  account. 

§  5.  Since  the  far  greater  number  of  historic  causalities 
are  of  a  psychic  nature,  a  thorough  knowledge  of  humair 
psychology  is  essential  to  the  ethnologist.  Psychology,  indi- 
vidual as  well  as  racial,  must  be  one  of  the  most  prominent 
aids  to  ethnology.  Obviously,  the  psychic  determinants  of  a 
cultural  phenomenon  or  culture-historical  process  can  never 
fall  outside  general  psychologic  possibility.  On  the  other 
hand,  it  is  not  necessary  for  the  historian  to  wait  until  a 
certain  problem  has  been  solved  by  the  psychologists  before 
he  can  study  it  in  the  light  of  his  own  field.  Nor  is  it  im- 
probable that  the  results  of  psychologic  investigation,  with 
its  main  emphasis  upon  the  average,  the  typical,  may  in 
certain  instances  be  inapplicable  to  the  individual  histori'-.il 
processes.  What  the  ethnologist  needs  most  of  all,  in  view 
of  these  circumstances,  is  a  thorough  practical  acquaintance 
with  tl.c  human  soul,  an  understanding  of  human  nature  in 
all  of  its  most  subtle  ramifications.  This  ability  cannot  be 
acquired  as  can  the  knowledge  of  scientific  data.  It  is  a 
native  gift,  developed  through  careful  cultivation.  Those 
who  possess  it,  however,  will  be  capable  of  a  highly  versatile 
understanding.  They  will  not  be  the  slaves  of  their  own  in- 
tellectual environment.  Able  to  grasp  the  great  number  of 
possibilities,  they  will  not  be  very  likely  to  draw  one-sided 
conclusions.1  * 

Such  a  versatility  has,  in  addition,  the  power  to  make  us 
feel  and  think  as  though  we  were  part  of  the  culture  we  are 
studying,  no  matter  how  foreign  its  terms  may  be  to  our 
own  environment. 

This  gift  is  an  indispensable  prerequisite  of  all  those  who 
attempt  to  solve  the  problem  of  causality  and  to  understand 
a  phenomenon  as  part  of  its  cultural  background.  It  is  most 
important,  however,  in  all  those  cases  in  which  the  evidence 


4^8  THEMAKINGOFMAN 

at  hand  fails  to  point  to  unquestionable  conclusions,  that 
is,  wherever  we  must  resort  to  hypothesis  in  the  absence  of 
proof.  Wherever  the  order  of  development  of  several  forms 
or  the  cultural  group  to  which  a  given  phenomenon  belongs 
cannot  be  objectively  established,  our  problem  becomes  one 
of  psychic  causality.  Our  main  task  is  to  avoid  one-sidedness. 
Wherever  none  of  the  given  possibilities  of  solution  is  ob- 
viously dominant,  we  must  apply  the  ceterum  censeo  of  all 
unprejudiced  science;  we  must  by  no  means  "force"  a  solu- 
tion, but — while  not  relinquishing  our  personal  opinion — 
we  must  dispassionately  weigh  all  possibilities,  and  admit  it 
honestly,  if  the  present  state  of  the  science  precludes  a  posi- 
tive answer  to  our  question. 

NOTES 

1  Ratzel,  Gcschichte,  Vol^er^unde  tind  historische  Perspective,  1904,  pp. 

jff- 

2  This  attitude  has  been  particularly  stressed  by  Pater  W.  Schmidt  in 
Globns,  xcvii,  pp.  174,  176,  189. 

8  Vierkandt,  Die  Stetig^eit  im  Kultttrwandcl,  pp.  Ii8#. 
4  Cf.  Spencer  and  Gillen,  The  Northern  Tribes  of  Central  Australia,  pp. 
283  ff. 

6  Leo  Frobenius,  Naturwissenschajthchc  Kulturlehre,  pp.  15/7. 

tf  Leo  Frobenius,  Der  Ursprung  der  Ajnkjnnischcn  Kulturen,  pp.  245  ff.; 
Das  Zeitalter  des  Sonnengotts,  pp.  37  ff. 

7  Cf.  Andree,  Ethnographische  Betrachtungen  uber  Hockerbestattung,  Z. 
fur  Anthropologiet  Neue  Folge,  vi,  pp.  262  ff. 

8  Pater  W.  Schmidt,  L'Origine  de  I'idee  de  Dieu,  in  Anthropos,  iii,  pp. 
125  ff>,  336  ff.,  559  ff->  801  ff.,  1081  ff.;  iv,  pp.  207  ff.,  505  ff.,  1075  ff.;  v, 
pp.  231  ff. 

9  Cf.  Vierkandt,  Die  Stetigkcit  im  Kulturwandel,  pp.  5  ff. 

10  M.  Schmidt,  Indianersiudien  in  Zentralbrasilien,  pp.  330^.;  Peruan- 
'•schc  Ornamenttk,  Z.  fur  Anthropologie,  Neue  Folge,  vii,  pp.  22  ff. 

13  Graebner,  Anthropos,  iv,  pp.  769$.,  1004,  1017,  io2o/.,  1024,  I027/. 
12  Cf.  Klaatsch,  referred  to  by  Pater  W.  Schmidt  in  Z.  fiir  Ethnologic, 

di,  p.  373.  Incidentally,  the  attitude  found  there  is  not  a  sufficient  motiva- 
tion for  this  operation,  because,  as  is  well  known,  the  subincisio  is  not  in- 
dispensable in  the  carrying  out  of  homosexual  acts. 
18  Marzan,  Anthropos,  v,  pp.  808  /. 

14  A  good  illustration  of  such  a  versatile  treatment  of  a  subject,  a  sys- 
lem?tic  sensing  and  analysis  of  all  possibilities,  can  be  found  in  Ehrenreich's 
Tcc.it  work,  Allgftneine  Mythohgie. 


BANARO  SOCIETY  * 

SOCIAL  ORGANIZATION  AND  KINSHIP  SYSTEM  OF  A  TRIBE 
IN  THE  INTERIOR  OF  NEW  GUINEA 

By  RICHARD  THURNWALD 
LOCATION 

IN  the  following  pages  I  shall  endeavor  to  give  an  accourtf 
of  the  social  institutions  of  the  Banaro  tribe  in  New  Guinea 
which  seems  to  provide  the  clue  to  several  problems  con- 
nected with  primitive  social  organization. 

The  tribe  concerned  lives  along  the  middle  course  af  the 
Keram,  the  lowest  tributary  of  the  Sepik  or  Kaiserin  Au- 
gusta river  in  the  northern  part  of  New  Guinea.  During  the 
dry  season,  when  the  current  is  not  too  strong,  the  trip  up  the 
Keram,  with  its  endless  meanderings,  to  the  region  of  the 
native  settlements  can  be  made  by  a  good  motor  launch  in 
three  days,  provided  that  no  stops  are  made  on  the  way.  As 
the  crow  flies,  the  distance  from  the  junction  of  the  Keram 
and  the  Sepik  to  the  native  settlements  is  certainly  not  less 
than  fifty  kilometers. 

The  first  village  encountered  as  one  goes  up  the  Keram 
still  belongs  to  the  linguistic  and  cultural  area  of  the  lower 
Sepik  tribes.  The  second  village,  Kambot,  a  rather  large 
one,  belongs  to  a  different  culture  area.  This  area  is  sub- 
divided into  two  districts;  the  one  includes  Tjambio  (Kam- 
bot) (Kamboa),Engaleb  (lerambo)  (Gorogopa),  and  Ka- 

*  The  present  paper  is  based  on  material  obtained  in  1912-15  in  New 
Guinea,  as  part  of  the  work  of  an  expedition  to  the  region  of  the  Kaiscrin 
Augusta  river,  otherwise  called  the  Sepik.  The  expedition  was  sustained 
jointly  by  the  German  Colonial  Office  and  the  Berlin  Ethnographical  Mu- 
seum. The  outbreak  of  the  war  brought  the  work  to  a  sudden  close*,  and 
forced  me  to  leave  New  Guinea.  Memoirs  of  the  American  Anthropok  gicaf- 
Association. 

429 


43°  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

men  (Kumbragumbra) ;  the  other,  the  following  tribes  met 
with  in  traveling  up  the  Keram:  Buegendum  (Kauguia- 
aum),  Ramunga  and  Bunaram,  and  finally  Banaro.  The 
culture  of  this  area  is  distinguished  by  the  possession  of  bow 
and  arrow,  whereas  the  adjoining  tribes  of  the  lower  Sepik 
use  the  dart,  Wurfpjeil.  The  people  of  this  region  also  prac- 
tice the  art  of  pottery,  unknown  on  the  lower  Sepik.  As  the 
pottery  of  the  lower  Sepik  is  imported  from  the  Keram,  this 
river  is  commonly  known  in  New  Guinea  as  "Potters' 
river,"  or  Toepferfluss.  Feuds  are  constantly  in  progress 
among  the  different  tribes,  including,  of  course,  the  Banaro. 

TRIBE-NAME,  VILLAGE-NAME  AND  SOCIAL  CROUPS 

Each  of  the  villages  has  a  name  of  its  town.  Different 
localities  such  as  parts  of  the  forest,  of  the  grassland,  big 
trees,  creeks,  hunting  grounds,  fishing  pools,  sago  swamps, 
etc.,  are  provided  with  special  designations  or  proper  names. 
These  appellations  are  used  as  village-names.  However,  the 
name  of  the  "settlement  must  be  carefully  distinguished  from 
that  of  the  tribe.  The  tribe-name  is  the  designation  given  to  a 
tribe  by  its  neighbors. 

The  difference  between  village-name  and  tribe-name  is 
especially  marked  in  cases  where  we  can  observe  the  migra- 
tion of  a  tribe  that  occupies  but  a  single  village.  This  may 
perhaps  be  made  more  clear  by  the  example  of  the  Tjimundo- 
tribe,  inhabiting  the  first  settlement  met  with  on  the  Keram, 
which  has  changed  its  dwelling  place  several  times  in  the 
last  twenty  years.  This  tribe,  consisting  of  one  village,  is 
called  Tjimundo  by  the  surrounding  tribes,  but  the  village 
the  tribe  inhabits  at  present  is  called,  from  its  location,  Bo- 
bonarum.  It  removed  to  this  place  about  four  years  ago  from 
Oromanum,  where  many  deaths  occurred,  resulting  prob' 
ably  from  unhealthy  conditions.  The  stay  of  these  people  at 
Oromanum  was  very  short,  lasting  only  for  two  or  three 
years.  They  had  there  built  up  a  new  village  on  coming  from 
Maienum,  a  place  that  they  left  because  of  attacks  by  their 
old  enemies,  the  Moagem  people.  On  account  of  these  at- 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  43! 

tacks  they  had  already  changed  their  former  dwelling  place 
on  the  mouth  of  the  Keram,  called  Yanumbui.  Prior  to  that 
they  had  inhabited  Amebonum  (Param,  to-day  the  Mission 
station  Marienberg)  on  the  left  bank  of  the  Sepik  river.  They 
quit  this  location  on  account  of  hostilities  with  their  neigh- 
bors in  the  hinterland.  The  tribe-name,  however,  remained 
Tjimundo.  , 

EXCHANGE  SYSTEM 

In  the  South  Seas  in  general,  two  forms  of  arranging  mar- 
riage prevail:  (i)  the  exchange  of  woman  for  woman; 
(2)  tht  buying  of  women,  with  objects  of  value. 

Mutual  exchange  of  women  probably  originated  as  a 
pledge  of  good  will  in  the  establishment  of  friendly  relations 
between  two  communities.  This  form  seems  to  me  the  origi- 
nal one  from  which  the  second  form  has  been  derived.  In 
cases  where  mutual  exchange  became  impossible,  return  was 
made  by  objects  of  value. 

Among  the  Banaro  we  find  the  exchange  system  in  full 
operation,  elaborately  worked  out  in  every  detail.  When  a 
girl  has  reached  the  age  of  puberty  and  gone  through  the 
initiation  ceremonies,  she  consults  with  her  mother  as  to 
which  of  the  marriageable  youths  suits  her  best.  Of  course, 
she  often  has  an  understanding  with  the  boy  beforehand. 
She  may  choose  from  among  the  boys  of  the  several  genter, 
of  which  her  tribe  is  composed.  Marriage  within  the  gens  is 
not  permitted.  It  is  only  in  exceptional  cases  that  marriage 
into  another  tribe  takes  place,  as  an  examination  of  native 
pedigree  proves.  For  this  reason  we  may  call  the  gens  ex- 
ogamic,  the  tribe  endogamic. 

The  girl's  mother  discusses  the  matter  with  her  husband 
and  if  they  agree,  she  prepares  a  pot  of  boiled  sago,  which 
they  then  carry  in  a  basket  to  the  parents  of  the  chosen 
bridegroom.  The  families  concerned  confer  with  each  other 
and  come  to  a  formal  agreement.  As  compensation  for-  the 
girl  the  sister  of  the  bridegroom  must  be  married  to  ths 
bride's  brother.  But  the  sago  is  offered  under  the  pretexi 


432  THEMAKINGOFMAN 

of  asking  the  bridegroom's  sister  in  marriage  for  the  bride's 
brother.  If  the  other  parents  accept  the  sago,  the  case  is 
settled,  as  far  as  the  two  sets  of  parents  are  concerned. 

But  the  situation  is  now  complicated  further.  Each  gens 
is  divided  into  two  sibs.  These  two  sibs  are  united  by  a  bond 
of  friendship  for  mutual  protection  and  pleasure,  as  well 
as  for  purposes  of  revenge  against  outsiders.  The  two  sibs 
are  considered  to  be  the  best  of  friends.  They  "can  never 
fight"  against  each  other.  It  seems  required,  therefore,  by  a 
kind  of  active  sympathy,  that  if  one  sib  is  going  to  celebrate 
a  marriage,  the  other  sib  shall  also  have  an  opportunity  for 
a  feast.  Moreover,  the  principle  of  requital  implies  tkat  the 
other  sib  shall  participate.  Accordingly  a  bridegroom  of 
the  right  side  (tan)  of  the  sib  must  take  his  bride  from  the 
same  side  of  the  other  gens;  a  bridegroom  of  the  left  side 
(bon)  takes  his  bride  from  a  left  sib. 

After  the  parties  have  mutually  agreed,  each  pair  of 
parents  confers  with  the  paternal  grandfather  of  each  bride- 
groom. Each  grandfather  consults  with  his  mundu,  his 
special  friend  in  the  corresponding  sib.  If  the  grandfather 
is  dead,  his  brother  takes  his  place. 

The  tnundus  of  the  grandfathers  now  confer  with  their 
sons,  and  the  sons  with  their  children,  in  order  to  arrange 
for  two  corresponding  marriages  further  in  the  parallel  sib. 
Thus  we  may  count  four  pairs  to  be  united  by  marriage. 
Two  gentes  each  exchange  one  girl  for  a  girl  of  the  other 
gens,  and  this  pair  of  girls  is  doubled  by  the  parallel  ex- 
change in  the  corresponding  sib  of  each  gens. 

This  is  the  ideal  system,  but  in  reality  it  cannot  always 
be  carried  out  to  its  fullest  extent.  Defective  cases  will  be 
dealt  with  later. 

GIRLS'  INITIATION 

The  marriage  ceremony  is  connected  with  the  initiation 
certmony  of  the  girls.  Girls  are  provided  with  husbands  on 
reaching  the  age  of  puberty.  It  would  lead  us  too  far  to  give 
a  detailed  account  of  the  rather  complicated  festivities  here. 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  433 

The  following,  however,  are  some  of  their  principal  features, 

Wild  pigs  are  hunted,  and  domestic  pigs  slaughtered  on 
different  occasions,  once  by  the  fathers  of  the  girls,  once 
by  their  mothers'  brothers.  During  a  lapse  of  altogether 
nine  months,  the  girls  are  confined  to  a  cell  in  the  family 
house,  getting  sago  soup  instead  of  water  throughout  that 
time.  For  the  whole  period  their  fathers  are  obliged  to  sleep 
in  the  goblin-house.  At  last  their  cell  is  broken  up  by  the 
women,  the  girls  released  and  allowed  to  leave  the  house. 
The  women  get  cocoanuts  laid  ready  beforehand,  and 
throw  them  at  the  girls,  whom  they  finally  push  into  the 
water,  again  pelting  them  with  cocoanuts.  The  girls  crawl 
out  of  the  water  on  to  the  bank,  receive  portions  of  sago 
and  pork,  and  are  now  dressed,  and  adorned  with  earringsl 
nose-sticks,  necklaces,  bracelets,  and  aromatic  herbs.  After 
this  a  dance  of  the  women  takes  place. 

That  same  evening  the  orgies  begin.  When  dusk  breaks 
in,  the  men  assemble  on  the  streets  of  the  village.  The  old 
men  consult  with  each  other,  agreeing  to  distribute  the  girls 
according  to  their  custom.  This  custom  was  explained  to  me 
in  the  following  way :  The  father  of  the  chosen  bridegroom 
really  ought  to  take  possession  of  the  girl,  but  he  is 
"ashamed'*  and  asks  his  sib  friend,  his  mundii,  to  initiate 
her  into  the  mysteries  of  married  life  in  his  place.  This  man 
agrees  to  do  so.  The  mother  of  the  girl  hands  her  over  to 
the  bridegroom's  father,  telling  her  that  he  will  lead  her 
to  meet  the  goblin. 

The  bridegroom's  father  takes  her  to  the  goblin-hall  and 
bids  her  enter.  His  mundii  has  already  gone  into  the  goblin- 
hall,  and  awaits  her  within.  When  she  comes  in,  he,  in  the 
role  of  the  goblin,  takes  her  by  the  hand  and  leads  her  to 
the  place  where  the  big  bamboo  pipes  (three  to  six  meters 
long)  are  hidden. 

These  musical  pipes,  by  the  way,  play  a  most  important 
part  in  many  ceremonies,  and  their  voice  is  supposed  to  be 
that  of  the  goblin  himself.  Sight  of  them  is  forbidden  to 
women,  on  pain  of  death. 


434  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

Before  these  hidden  gods  the  couple  unite.  Afterwards  the 
girl  is  led  out  of  the  goblin-hall,  where  her  bridegroom's 
father  awaits  her  and  brings  her  back  to  her  mother.  The 
mundii  returns  home  in  a  roundabout  way,  for  he  is 
"ashamed"  to  meet  anybody  on  his  way  back. 

The  bridegroom's  father  goes  back  to  the  goblin-hall,  and 
it  is  now  his  turn  to  perform  the  role  of  goblin,  his  mundu 
bringing  him  his  son's  bride. 

After  that,  the  same  rite  is  performed  with  the  other 
two  girls. 

The  bridegrooms  and  the  other  two  boys,  in  the  mean- 
time, are  confined  in  a  house,  set  apart  for  this  purpose, 
and  watched  by  their  mothers'  brothers. 

The  fathers  in  their  capacity  of  goblins  are  allowed  to 
have  intercourse  with  the  brides  on  several  subsequent  occa- 
sions, but  only  in  the  goblin-hall. 

The  bridegroom  is  not  allowed  to  touch  her  until  she 
gives  birth  to  a  child.  This  child  is  called  the  goblin's  child. 
When  the  goblin-child  is  born,  the  mother  says,  "Where  is 
thy  father?  Who  had  to  do  with  me?"  The  bridegroom  re- 
sponds, "I  am  not  his  father:  he  is  a  goblin-child";  and  she 
replies,  "I  did  not  see  that  I  had  intercourse  with  a  goblin." 

After  the  birth  of  the  child,  the  bridegroom  is  expected  to 
have  finished  building  a  new  house,  and  the  bride,  the  plait- 
ing of  the  big  sleeping  bag,  used  on  the  banks  of  the  Keram 
river,  as  well  as  on  the  Sepik  river,  as  a  shelter  from  mos- 
quitoes. Then  the  couple  are  finally  permitted  to  begin  mar- 
ried life,  without  any  further  ceremonies,  in  the  new  house. 
On  solemn  occasions  the  goblin-father  continues  to  exer- 
cise his  "spiritual"  function  in  the  goblin-hall. 

The  avoidance  between  bride  and  bridegroom  must  be 
classed  with  a  widely-spread  custom  appearing  in  the  dif- 
ferent forms  of  so-called  "Tobias  nights,"  and  not  unknown 
elsewhere  in  New  Guineas,  as,  for  instance,  among  the 
Vfassim  people,  and  the  Mekeo  tribe. 

When  the  first  child,  say  a  boy,  comes  to  the  age  of 
puberty,  and  becomes  a  guli,  as  a  child  of  about  twelve 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  435 

years  is  called,  he  goes  through  initiation  ceremonies  which 
are  somewhat  similar  to  those  of  the  girls  described  above, 

BOYS'  INITIATION 

These  ceremonies  are  also  connected  with  the  mundu  in- 
stitution. Boys  of  the  two  sibs  are  initiated  together.  First, 
their  fathers  consult  with  each  other.  The  grandfathers,  who 
acted  reciprocally  as  goblin-fathers  of  the  firstborn,  confer 
with  the  brothers  of  the  respective  mothers,  in  order  to 
plan  for  a  hunt  of  wild  pigs  in  the  forest.  The  two  goblin- 
fathers  go  in  one  party,  the  two  mothers'  brothers  in  another. 
After  the  hunt,  the  two  parties  meet  outside  the  village,  and 
now  the  respective  fathers  and  uncles  of  the  boys  return 
home  together  with  the  pigs.  The  goblin-father  cuts  the  pig 
into  two  halves,  giving  one  side  to  the  adopted  father  of 
the  goblin-child,  and  retaining  the  other  for  himself.  The 
mothers  boil  the  pork  and  prepare  sago.  The  next  morning 
the  men  bring  the  head  of  the  pig  to  the  goblin-hall,  and 
deposit  it  before  the  bamboo  pipes.  Later  on,  the  two 
mothers'  brothers  and  the  two  legal  fathers  eat  the  head 
of  the  pig.  The  other  women  of  the  village  bring  baked  sago 
to  the  goblin-hall,  where  the  men  are  assembled.  After  sunset 
a  mundu  festival  takes  place. 

At  this  time  the  goblin-father  ceases  to  exercise  his  right 
as  representative  of  the  goblin,  ceding  his  power  to  his  son,, 
a  man  of  the  same  age  as  the  initiated  woman's  husband. 
The  goblin-father,  however,  is  formally  invited,  but  he 
scratches  his  head  and  refuses.  He  might,  for  example,  say> 
"No,  I  am  too  old  now;  my  son  had  better  take  over  the 
mundu  rights."  These  rights  are,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  usually 
inherited. 

From  this  time  forth  the  husband's  sib-friend,  his  mundu,. 
acts  as  goblin  on  festive  occasions. 

The  initiation  ceremony  coincides  in  time  with  the  refusal 
of  the  goblin-father  to  continue  in  his  goblin  rights  toward 
his  sib-friend's  daughter-in-law.  This  indicates  that  the 
goblin-father  is  entering  into  another  age-class,  paralleled  by 


436  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

the  permission  of  his  son  to  enter  into  the  full  privileges  of 
sex  life,  and  by  the  arrival  of  his  own  goblin-child  at  the 
age  of  puberty.  The  latter  stage  is  used  as  a  means  of  grading 
the  age-class. 

During  these  ceremonies  in  the  goblin-hall,  the  boys  are 
brought  to  another  house,  and  there  watched  over  by  their 
mothers'  brothers.  When  the  father  returns,  he  brings  a 
burning  brand  from  the  goblin-hall  with  him,  goes  to  his 
son  and  describes  a  circle  of  fire  around  the  head  of  the  boy. 

The  fathers'  and  mothers'  brothers  now  pick  up  the  boys 
and  carry  them  on  their  shoulders  to  the  goblin-hall.  Here 
they  wait  outside  on  the  veranda  until  all  the  men  have 
entered.  The  men  form  a  line  across  the  hall  and  begin  to 
dance.  The  other  men  blow  the  pipes  from  behind  the  row 
of  dancers.  The  boys  are  now  brought  inside  the  hall.  At 
this,  the  pipers  break  through  the  line  of  rhythmically  danc- 
ing men,  and  press  the  pipes  upon  the  navels  of  the  boys. 
After  further  ceremonies,  the  boys  are  placed  upon  a  piece 
of  sago  bark,  and  the  fathers  and  mothers'  brothers  now 
take  the  bamboo  pipes  and  blow  upon  them.  Then  they 
hand  over  the  instruments  to  the  boys  and  show  them  how 
to  play  them.  After  this,  the  boys  continually  practice 
playing  the  pipes. 

Thereupon  the  boys  are  confined  in  cage-like  cells  (mo- 
munevem),  built  for  that  purpose  in  the  goblin-hall.  The 
goblin-hall  itself  is  surrounded  during  that  time  with  a  fence 
of  sago  leaves. 

A  good  many  other  ceremonies  are  performed  during  the 
period  the  boys  are  interned,  for  instance,  a  ceremony  con- 
nected with  the  bull-roarer.  They  also  insert  in  the  urinary 
passage  two  or  three  stems  of  Coix  lacrima,  a  barbed  grass. 
These  stems  they  pull  out  suddenly,  so  that  the  walls  of 
the  passage  are  cut.  After  three  months  of  confinement  the 
initiates  are  "shown"  the  phenomena  of  the  world  that 
surrounds  them, — animals,  plants,  high  water,  thunder  and 
lightning,— which  are  presented  as  spirits  in  the  shape  of 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  437 

wooden  idols.  They  are  also  introduced  to  the  goblins  of 
this  world  and  the  spirits  of  their  ancestors. 

Five  months  later,  during  new  moon,  the  father  and  the 
mothers'  brothers  slaughter  domestic  pigs,  as  is  usual  at  the 
conclusion  of  ceremonies.  The  mother  now  roasts  the  pork 
and  cooks  sago.  The  other  women  of  the  gens  also  prepare 
sago.  The  men  of  the  related  gentes  bring  taro,  yams, 
bananas,  sugar  cane,  tobacco,  betel  nut,  and  betel  pepper. 
Then  they  sing  and  dance,  day  and  night. 

Finally  the  boys  are  girded,  clothed  in  a  kind  of  fringed 
sago  leaf  skirt,  belted  with  hoops  of  rattan,  and  adorned  with 
plaited  bracelets,  nose  sticks,  and  ear  ropes.  Their  waists 
are  tightly  bound  with  a  wide  band  of  rattan  wickerwork, 
drawn  so  firmly  together  that  they  can  hardly  eat.  It  is  the 
pride  of  the  boys  to  have  a  slender  waist. 

Their  father  then  offers  them  betel  nut  and  betel  pepper, 
and  washes  them  in  the  water  left  from  the  filtration  of 
the  sago.  The  mothers'  brothers  shave  their  temples  and  the 
back  of  their  heads,  leaving  a  kind  of  crest. 

The  fathers  in  the  meantime  have  carved  small  human 
figures  (butyimorom,  on  the  lower  Sepik  called  lyindim- 
boan)  as  a  gift  of  mutual  friendship  between  the  inter- 
marrying gentes.  With  these  figures  a  particular  charm  is 
performed.  The  father  goes  with  the  boy  into  the  forest  to 
search  for  a  water  liana,  a  particular  species  containing 
water  in  its  stem.  This  liana  is  cut  and  the  water  allowed  to 
flow  over  the  figure,  betel  nut  and  betel  pepper  are  laid  upon 
it,  and  it  is  then  wrapped  up  in  bark.  The  figure  is  used 
as  a  love  charm.  If  the  boy  should  go  into  the  bush  with  this, 
he  would  expect  to  meet  a  woman.  When  the  women  hear 
that  such  a  charm  has  been  executed,  one  of  them,  ordi- 
narily the  wife  of  the  mother's  goblin-initiator,  i.e.f  the  wife 
of  his  grandfather's  sib  friend,  complies  with  the  v/ish  ex- 
pressed in  the  charm.  This  is  the  boy's  initiation  into  sex- 
ual life. 

At  sunset  the  fathers'  and  mothers'  brothers  carry  the  boys 
with  the  pipes  to  the  banks  of  the  river,  where  they  line  up 


438  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

along  the  shore,  the  boys  still  on  their  shoulders.  The  other 
men  stand  in  a  line  behind  them,  dancing  and  singing.  The 
goblin-fathers,  stationed  at  the  two  ends  of  the  line,  hold  a 
rattan  rope  in  their  hands,  with  which  they  finally  force 
the  boys  into  the  water,  so  that  they  may  have  a  bath  with 
the  pipes.  Afterwards  the  boys  return  to  the  goblin-hall. 
Meanwhile  the  women  are  sent  to  the  forest,  lest  they  should 
get  a  glimpse  of  the  pipes. 

The  next  morning  another  bathing  ceremony  takes  place 
among  the  adults  of  the  community.  First  the  men,  singing 
and  dancing,  form  a  line  along  the  bank  of  the  river;  the 
women  line  up  behind  them.  The  mothers  of  the  boys  who 
are  being  initiated  make  a  fire  by  rubbing  a  cord  of  rattan 
on  firewood.  The  women  begin  to  dance,  the  mothers  draw- 
ing taut  a  long  rope  of  rattan  behind  the  men,  by  means  of 
which  they  finally  push  them  into  the  water.  After  this  the 
women  throw  at  the  men  cocoanuts  previously  laid  ready. 
The  men,  in  return,  shoot  back  with  bow  and  arrow,  each 
man  trying  to  hit  his  mundus  wife.  The  men  now  climb  out 
of  the  water,  and  the  reverse  of  the  above  ceremony  takes 
place,  the  men  pushing  the  women  into  the  water  with  the 
rattan  rope.  This  time  the  women  shoot  back  from  the  water 
with  arrows,  aiming  at  their  goblins. 

While  the  bathing  ceremony  is  going  on,  the  boys  are 
kept  apart  and  watched  over  by  their  mothers'  brothers. 

On  the  same  evening  the  festival  in  the  goblin-hall  is  re- 
peated, but  this  time  is  extended  to  the  mothers'  brothers 
and  their  mundus.  The  latter  also  meet  in  the  goblin-hall 
of  the  initiated  boys. 

After  this  the  boys  are  brought  home  to  their  mothers. 
Here  their  hands  are  extended  over  a  fire,  and  the  joints 
of  their  fingers  cracked  over  the  flames. 

These  ceremonies  conclude  the  festivities,  and  the  boy 
is  finally  allowed  to  associate  with  women. 

The  initiation  ceremonies,  as  we  have  seen,  introduce  the 
marriage  rites  and  are  intimately  connected  with  them. 

I  should  like  to  call  attention  to  the  fact  that  marriage 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  439 

ceremonies  are  not  differentiated  from  the  ceremonies  asso- 
ciated with  puberty.  The  maturing  of  sex  is  ritually  identi- 
fied with  the  functioning  of  sex,  and  the  possibility  of  the 
function  with  its  practical  employment.  This  employment, 
however,  is  restricted  to  a  definite  group  of  persons  and  to 
certain  fixed  occasions,  in  the  manner  shown  above. 

THE  SYSTEM  AT  WORK 

If  we  try  to  sum  up  the  system  that  results  from  these 
various  customs,  we  come  to  the  following  conclusions: 

Each  woman,  as  time  goes  on,  has"  regular  intercourse  with 
three  men:  (i)  With  the  sib-friend  of  her  bridegroom's 
father,  (2)  with  her  husband;  (3)  with  her  husband's  sib- 
friend.  And  each  man  also  has  legal  intercourse  with  three 
women:  (i)  With  his  wife;  (2)  with  his  sib-friend's  wife; 
(3)  with  the  bride  of  his  sib-friend's  son.  This  holds  true  if 
we  leave  out  of  consideration  the  old  woman  who  initiates 
the  boy. 

There  is  no  doubt  that  this  results  in  greater  probability 
of  conception,  and  that  sterile  marriages  are  prevented  in  a 
higher  degree.  But  I  doubt  whether  this  eugenic  reason  had 
any  influence  in  establishing  these  customs.  However,  in 
case  a  marriage  should  prove  to  be  sterile,  the  man  is  allowed 
to  take  another  wife;  but  then  there  are  no  ceremonies. 

It  must  be  borne  in  mind  that  if  a  child's  extramarital 
father  is  its  mother's  sib-friend,  this  man  is  the  son  of  its 
mother's  goblin  initiator.  Thus  the  three  men  of  the  other 
sib  with  whom  the  woman  has  to  deal,  besides  her  husband, 
are  a  father  and  his  son,  and  eventually  this  latter  person's 
grandson.  A  man,  however,  has  to  do  first  with  a  woman  of 
his  grandmother's  generation,  hereafter  with  his  female  sib- 
friend  of  his  wife's  age-class,  later  with  this  woman's  son's 
wife.  A  woman  has  intercourse  with  males  who  are  lineal 
descendants,  a  man  with  females  who  are  not  direct  off- 
springs in  successive  generations.  A  male  will  have  union — 
besides  his  initiation — with  two  persons  of  his  age-class  and 
one  of  the  following  one,  a  female  with  one  of  the  pre- 


440  THEMAKINGOFMAN 

ceding  age-class  and  two  of  her  own,  and  eventually  with 
her  grandchildren's  generation.  It  will  be  noticed  that  inter- 
course is  avoided  on  the  female  side  with  the  son's  generation 
and  correspondingly  on  the  male  side  with  the  mother's 
age-class. 

The  offspring  of  the  union  with  the  goblin  is  called  the 
goblin's  child,  moro-me-m' 'an.  Although  the  child  remains 
with  the  mother,  we  cannot  speak  of  a  female  line  of  de- 
scent, for  the  child  is  adopted  by  his  mother's  husband,  who 
cares  for  his  further  education,  and  practically  acts  as  his 
foster  father. 

That  the  first  child  is  known  as  the  "goblin's  child,"  might 
be  associated  with  a  religious  usage  which  we  find  widely 
spread  in  some  form  or  other  in  the  custom  of  offering 
the  first-born,  the  firstling,  or  first  fruits,  to  the  gods. 

The  psychological  association  of  the  "first"  with  the 
first  cause  and  whatever  is  felt  superior  to  man,  is,  of  course, 
striking  and  suggestive,  and  explains  the  wide  distribution 
of  this  custom. 

Whether  the  husband  happens  to  be  the  children's  father 
or  not,  is  of  no  importance  in  this  scheme;  he  is  the  foster 
father  of  his  wife's  goblin-child,  and  of  any  children  his 
wife  might  have  with  his  own  mundu,  as  well.  These  chil- 
dren of  his  wife  may,  perhaps,  originate  entirely  from  fathers 
of  the  other  sib  of  the  gens.  But  the  man  is  the  head  of  his 
wife's  family.  The  family  relation  and  the  sexual  relation 
rest  each  upon  a  different  basis,  as  has  been  shown  above. 

SOCIALIZING   INFLUENCE  OF  THE  SYSTEM 

The  exchange  system  maintains  a  great  socializing  influ- 
ence, for  by  its  means  all  members  of  the  tribe  are  connected 
with,  and  dependent  on,  each  other.  This  appears  in  the 
different  ceremonials  where  persons  are  assigned  special 
functions,  as  well  as  in  the  marriage  system,  which  has 
spread  a  network  of  all  kinds  of  relationships,  not  only  over 
the  gens,  but  over  the  tribe  itself. 

The  working  of  this  system  of  ties  could  well  be  felt  when 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  44! 

I  tried  to  recruit  a  boy  from  the  Banaro  tribe  for  service  with 
the  expedition.  Of  the  boys  who  served  me  as  informants, 
one  (Yomba)  was  a  single  man  from  a  gens  of  the  Banaro 
tribe,  the  other  (Manape)  from  the  Ramunga  tribe.  It  was 
impossible,  however,  to  get  another  boy,  in  spite  of  friendly 
relations,  for  there  was  no  one  to  spare,  each  man  having  his 
special  part  to  play  in  the  social  system. 

PSYCHOLOGICAL  BASIS 

The  marriage  regulations  exist  as  a  means  of  insurance 
against  the  disturbing  influence  of  the  emotions  upon  social 
life;  for  social  life  depends  upon  a  certain  established  har 
mony  between  emotion  and  intellect.  If  the  intellect  en- 
counters emotions  with  which  it  cannot  successfully  cope, 
social  life  is  disturbed  by  internal  friction,  because  of 
blunders  committed  by  members  of  the  social  group.  Now, 
whether  this  is  because,  in  a  particular  case,  the  emotions 
are  relatively  too  strong,  or  the  intellect  too  weak,  and  there- 
fore the  presence  of  mind  needed  in  adapting  itself  to  un- 
expected situations  is  insufficient,  the  establishment  of 
regulating  forms,  laws,  and  ceremonies  is  required.  The 
more  formulae  of  the  kind  pervade  life,  the  more  we  may 
expect  to  find  a  relative  insufficiency  of  intellect  in  dealing 
with  the  emotions.  The  social  group  erects  rigid  barriers 
in  order  to  lead  emotional  life  into  well-defined  channels. 
This  applies  especially  to  all  phenomena  connected  with 
sexual  life,  and  with  the  reproduction  of  the  race. 

For  this  reason  no  external  pressure  is  needed  to  enforce 
such  customs;  they  are  considered  quite  a  matter  of  course, 
and  not  to  be  criticized. 

COUNTING  OF  DESCENT  AND  THE  ORIGIN  OF   EXOGAMY 

Now,  if  we  inquire  how  descent  is  counted,  we  notice 
a  queer  combination  of  both  female  and  male  influence. 
Practically  the  children  are  their  mother's,  and  her  husband 
seems  to  be  selected  only  in  order  to  protect  her  and  her 
children.  He  is  merely  the  protector  of  his  wife's  family. 


44^  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

Thus,  the  sibs  and  the  gentes  are  organized  upon  the  men, 
and  it  is  through  them  that  exogamic  marriages  are  reckoned. 
This  leads  us  to  the  theory  already  mentioned,  that  the  ex- 
ogamic regulations  may  have  originated  from  an  under- 
standing between  gentes,  formerly  hostile,  but  afterwards 
agreeing  to  peaceful  relations.  These  were  sealed  by  the 
exchange  of  women,  and  might  thus  be  said  to  have  had  a 
political  origin. 

It  seems  to  me,  however,  as  if  the  much-discussed  ques- 
tion regarding  the  origin  of  exogamy  should  be  stated  some- 
what differently. 

It  has  often  been  emphasized,  and  seems  to  be  proved  by 
psychological  research,  that  a  certain  strangeness  works  as  a 
sexual  stimulus.  The  contempt  visited  upon  incestuous 
unions  is  mostly  based  upon  this  fact.  On  the  other  hand, 
an  exogamy  in  the  form  of  an  unlimited  liberty  of  choosing 
the  mate  is  never  really  found.  What  is  particularly  striking 
to  us  is  the  sharply  restricted  limitation  in  the  number  of 
groups  united  by  a  connubium. 

As  we  have  certain  limitations  to  deal  with  here,  it  would 
seem  preferable  to  speak  of  a  "marriage  regulation,"  rather 
than  of  an  "exogamy."  This  "exogamy,"  regarded  from  the 
point  of  view  of  such  limitations,  would  often  be  better 
classified  as  an  "endogamy."  We  ought,  therefore,  to  con- 
sider rather  the  origin  of  the  marriage  regulations.  My  solu- 
tion of  the  problem  has  been  suggested  above. 

There  is  no  doubt  that  the  regulation  of  marriage  in  the 
form  of  the  so-called  "exogamy"  has  important  biological 
consequences.  It  gives  us  a  hint  as  to  how  we  may  account 
for  the  many  distinct  types  of  man  we  encounter  in  rela- 
tively small  areas.  Whereas  the  physical  types  are  condi- 
tioned by  the  intermarrying  of  a  very  limited  number  of 
small  exogamic  units,  the  various  linguistic  and  cultured 
types  find  their  explanation  in  the  isolation  of  the  groups 
practicing  the  exogamy.  This  "exogamy,"  within  a  very 
restricted  number  of  small  groups,  is  practically  an  "en- 
dogamy," resulting  in  inbreeding  on  account  of  an  inter- 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  443 

mingling  of  a  restricted  set  of  persons  throughout  many 
generations. 

ECONOMIC  INFLUENCES 

The  grouping  of  kinship  depends  upon  the  complex  living 
conditions  of  the  tribe.  These  conditions  are  again  depend- 
ent upon  the  method  of  getting  the  food  supply,  and  the 
perfection  of  the  particular  tools,  i.e.,  the  economic  status. 
In  this  way  the  whole  system  of  relationship  comes  to  be 
influenced  by  economic  principles,  based  upon  the  posses- 
sion of  property. 

Among  the  Banaro  the  economic  unit  is  the  sib.  It  is  the 
sib  that  has  definite  claims  to  the  sago  places,  hunting  dis- 
tricts and  plantation  grounds.  These  localities  are  identified 
by  certain  names  and  the  boundaries  marked  by  creeks, 
swamps,  big  trees,  grass  limits,  ravines,  bends  of  the  river, 
etc.  The  owners  as  well  as  the  other  members  of  the  tribe 
know  these  localities  and  are  aware  of  the  traditional  rights 
to  them. 

The  ties  of  kinship  are  associated  with  the  common  hold- 
ing of  the  land.  The  connubium  tends  to  preserve  the  claims 
on  a  certain  territory  within  a  restricted  number  of  people. 
In  consequence  of  the  marriage  prescriptions  the  origin  of 
the  persons  entitled  to  exploit  the  land  is  limited,  so  that  the 
offspring  derives  its  rights  through  kinship  to  members  of 
the  community.  Individuals  have  no  claim  of  ownership 
or  rights  of  disposal  over  the  ground.  Therefore  we  cannot 
speak  of  a  transmission  by  inheritance,  as  the  sib  is  not,  like 
a  person,  capable  of  death.  The  right  of  a  person  depends 
on  his  situation  in  the  social  complex.  Hence  the  importance 
of  stating  the  relationship. 

Even  the  earnings  of  a  boy  recruited  for  service  with  the 
white  man  fall  to  his  sib  as  a  requital  for  the  absence  of  his 
working  power  claimed  by  his  sib.  Whatever  he  brings  home 
is  distributed  among  his  kinsfolk. 

Individual  property  is  confined  to  the  products  of  the 
labor  of  the  individual.  The  tree,  for  instance,  that  a  man 


444  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

plants,  or  the  fish  that  a  man  catches,  or  the  weir  that  a  man 
weaves,  or  the  stone  ax  he  puts  together,  belong  to  him 
as  the  fruit  of  his  labor.  This  individual  property  is  of 
a  very  temporary  character,  for  the  crops  of  the  plantation 
are  consumed  when  they  are  ripe,  and  the  few  tools  are  used 
up  after  a  relatively  short  time.  If  a  man  should  die,  they  are 
burned,  and  buried  with  him,  for  they  are  considered  as 
a  sort  of  personal  appurtenance. 

Under  primitive  conditions  as  dealt  with  here  individual 
property  is  generally  too  transient  to  be  transmitted.  It  is 
only  on  higher  stages  when  the  accumulation  of  property 
becomes  important,  that  conditions  change. 

Especially  if  the  population  becomes  dense  in  compari- 
son with  the  area  providing  food,  and  a  more  intense  ex- 
ploitation of  the  soil  becomes  necessary,  does  the  value  of 
the  land  rise.  Its  possession  then  becomes  an  important 
factor,  so  that  the  transmission  of  inheritance  rights  is 
carefully  watched  and  calculated. 

If  it  is  a  question  of  valuables  to  be  inherited,  an  exact 
.reckoning,  in  either  the  male  or  the  female  line,  must  be 
considered,  and  one  or  the  other  system  adopted. 

If  a  mundu  system  were  confronted  with  a  development 
in  the  suggested  direction,  it  is  just  as  probable  to  suppose 
that  the  result  would  turn  out  patriarchy  as  mother-right, 
for  the  husband  in  the  Banaro  organization  is,  as  we  have 
seen,  "the  head  of  his  wife's  family."  Certain  modifying 
ideas  or  other  influences  might  then  tip  the  balance  towards 
the  establishment  of  the  one  or  the  other  institution. 

Real  and  efficient  economic  exploitation  of  resources  can- 
not of  course  be  carried  through  with  primitive  or  even 
refined  tools  by  any  people.  For  civilized  man,  as  well  as 
the  savage,  is  never  an  economic  being  alone,  but  in  his 
desires  and  aims  is  "disturbed"  by  a  great  many  other 
factors  that  have  nothing  to  do  with  economics  proper. 
Among  these  disturbing  factors  are  many  which  we  are 
inclined  to  call  prejudices  if  we  find  them  among  other 
peoples,  but  which  are  generally  clad  in  high-sounding 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  445 

names  if  we  ourselves  are  concerned.  However  it  may  be 
that  these  spiritual  motives,  magic,  ceremonies,  customs 
(e.g.,  exogamy),  laws  and  so  on,  these  systems  growing  out 
of  simplifications,  abstractions,  and  associations  of  phe- 
nomena nevertheless  exercise  their  influence  upon  an  effi- 
cient economic  exploitation  through  the  technical  means 
of  a  given  people. 

I  think,  however,  we  ought  not  to  forget  the  importance 
of  the  economic  factor  in  considering  primitive  social  sys- 
tems. The  individualization  of  an  originally  supposed 
group  marriage  has  possibly  been  brought  about  by  the 
importance  of  the  labor  of  the  women  claimed  by  certain 
men,  though,  of  course,  I  should  not  reject  the  influence 
of  ideas,  as  introduced  by  migrating  people.  But  I  hold  that 
such  ideas,  even  if  they  do  survive  to  some  extent,  may  in 
the  lapse  of  time  be  absorbed  because  of  the  necessity  im- 
posed by  the  conditions  of  life. 


TECHNOLOGY* 

By  CLARK  WISSLER 

IF  the  reader  visits  a  museum  dealing  with  a  living  race,  he 
finds  exhibits  of  clothing,  baskets,  weapons,  tools,  foods, 
charms,  etc.,  usually  grouped  according  to  the  tribe  from 
which  they  were  obtained  and  intended  to  show  its  material 
culture.  By  comparing  the  exhibit  for  one  tribe  with  that 
of  another,  individualities  may  be  observed  and  regional 
similarities  discovered.  One  advantage  in  having  a  museum 
collection  is  that  the  objects  speak  for  themselves;  all  we 
need  is  accurate  information  ?s  to  the  tribe  producing  them 
and  a  minimum  of  knowledge  as  to  how  they  were  used. 
Even  the  last  can  be  dispensed  with,  for  important  con- 
clusions can  be  drawn  by  comparing  the  objects  as  they 
stand.  The  archaeologist,  for  example,  cannot  be  sure  of  the 
uses  of  stone  artifacts,  but  nevertheless,  he  determines  their 
types  and  distributions.  However,  in  securing  collections 
from  living  peoples,  the  collector  seeks  the  important  data 
concerning  the  manufacture  and  use  of  the  objects,  or,  to 
put  the  matter  fairly,  his  purpose  is  to  learn  all  he  can  about 
each  phase  of  material  culture,  choosing  such  objects  as  will 
illustrate,  or  demonstrate,  the  subject.  Thus,  if  he  finds  the 
women  making  baskets,  he  learns  all  he  can  about  this:  the 
types  of  baskets  made  and  their  uses;  how  the  materials  are 
gathered  and  prepared;  the  different  weaves  employed;  and 
the  decorations.  To  illustrate  these  points,  a  type  series  of 
baskets,  materials,  unfinished  baskets  to  show  the  techniques 
of  weaving,  and  a  series  of  decorated  baskets  are  collected. 
The  museum  ideal  is  to  exhibit  this  material  with  explana- 
tory labels  and  the  whole  is  regarded  as  data  on  the  basketry 
of  tribe  concerned.1  In  a  similar  manner,  the  field  collector 

•  An  Introduction  to  Social  Anthropology.  New  York:  Henry  Holt  &  Co. 

446 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  447 

may  undertake  the  study  of  hunting,  fishing,  agriculture, 
cooking,  house  building,  etc.,  eventually  covering  all  the 
tribal  activities.  The  basic  feature  that  makes  such  a  study 
feasible  is  that  in  all  such  matters  the  tribe  has  a  prevailing 
style  for  each  type  of  object  and  process,  and  when  once 
these  styles  have  been  determined  for  a  large  number  of 
tribes,  they  can  be  classified,  compared,  and  utilized  like 
other  scientific  data.  Such  subjects  as  social  organization, 
totemism,  and  animism  are  not  easily  represented  in  a  mu- 
seum collection,  but  the  presentation  of  data  on  magic  may 
be  advantageously  supplemented  by  an  exhibit  of  charms 
and  other  accessories  to  magical  procedures.  But  aside  from 
the  advantage  of  having  before  one  authenticated  objects 
for  study,  museum  collections  when  well  made  serve  as  a 
partial  substitute  for  a  visit  to  the  living  tribes.  If,  for  ex- 
ample, one  walked  through  a  large  museum  hall  for  the 
tribes  of  Africa,  he  might  in  this  way  realize  something  of 
what  would  appear  if  the  villages  of  the  tribes  themselves 
were  passed  in  review.  Automatically,  also  the  collections 
fall  into  certain  classes,  as  those  showing  agriculture  by 
the  presence  of  hoes  and  other  implements,  those  showing 
milking  stools  and  pails  in  areas  where  cattle  were  raised, 
etc.  All  this  could  be  quickly  observed  as  one  passed  through 
the  exhibit  and  would  serve  as  a  perspective  outline  to  be 
carried  in  the  mind  and  into  which  additional  information 
can  be  incorporated. 

HISTORY  OF  MUSEUMS 

The  collecting  of  curious  objects  from  strange  lands  is  an 
old,  old  weakness  of  mankind,  which  was  greatly  stimulated 
by  the  discovery  of  the  New  World,  and  so  objects  made 
by  Indians,  Eskimo,  Polynesians,  etc.,  found  their  way  into 
collector's  cabinets,  and  it  is  in  these  cabinets  that  the 
modern  museum  had  its  beginning.  We  cannot  go  into  the 
history  of  the  development  of  museums  in  general,  for  we 
are  concerned  chiefly  with  the  part  museum  collections 
have  played  in  the  development  of  anthropology.  For  a  long 


448  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

time,  as  we  have  said,  the  objects  made  by  living  primitive 
men  were  regarded  as  curios  embodying  no  important 
problem.  Eventually,  it  was  shown  that  they  could  lend 
themselves  to  scientific  treatment.  This  elevation  of  curios 
to  the  research  level  and  the  dignification  of  technology  as 
a  branch  of  anthropology  should  be  credited  to  A.  H.  Pitt- 
Rivers  (1827-1900).  He  entered  upon  the  collection  and  the 
study  of  the  objects  made  by  living  man  on  the  theory  that 
their  genesis,  or  development,  would  be  revealed  in  the 
objects  themselves,  just  as  structure  in  the  bodies  of  animals 
and  plants  is  taken  as  the  evidence  for  their  evolution. 
Before  the  time  of  Pitt-Rivers,  as  we  have  said,  the  objects 
made  by  savages  and  other  peoples  were  collected  as  curios, 
but  no  one  conceived  that  in  them  was  to  be  found  an 
empirical  lead  to  a  problem.  If,  as  Pitt-Rivers  assumed,  the 
story  can  be  read  in  the  objects  themselves,  then  a  new 
world  of  inquiry  is  opened  up  to  us.  First,  however,  the  col- 
lecting must  be  accurate  as  to  the  location  and  character 
of  the  tribe,  and  the  use  to  which  the  objects  were  put. 
This  done,  it  was  conceived  that  then  one  might  soon  dis- 
cover how  each  object  came  to  have  its  present  form. 

In  his  History  of  Mankind,  Tylor  used  the  available  ma- 
terial in  the  collections  of  Pitt-Rivers  and  others;  one  of 
his  classical  studies  was  that  of  fire-making,  in  which  he 
defended  the  thesis  that  man  first  kindled  fire  by  simple 
wood  friction,  passed  through  several  successive  steps  in 
elaborating  the  fire  drill,  later  discovered  the  use  of  flint 
and  iron  pyrites,  and  finally  ending  with  the  friction  match. 

A  contemporary  of  Pitt-Rivers  was  the  distinguished 
American  anthropologist,  O.  T.  Mason  (1838-1908),  who, 
though  influenced  by  Tylor  more  than  by  Pitt-Rivers, 
showed  great  originality  in  the  study  of  technology,  placing 
greater  stress  upon  geographical  distribution  than  did  either 
Tylor  or  Pitt-Rivers.  His  methods  were  of  the  laboratory 
tyf>e  and,  in  large  measure,  laid  the  foundation  for  the 
study  of  material  culture,  a  subject  now  occupying  an  im- 
portant place  in  anthropology.  Mason  is  best  known  for  his 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION 

studies  of  the  American  Indian  collections  in  the  United 
States  National  Museum  at  Washington,  especially  for  his 
exhaustive  work  on  basketry.  He  also  gave  attention  to 
museum  methods,  using  a  tribal  and  geographical  arrange- 
ment for  his  museum  collections,  but  in  addition  sought  to 
discover  in  these  collections  the  origins  of  technological 
process. 

At  this  point  we  may  note  an  important  matter.  Pitt- 
Rivers,  while  the  leader  in  this  significant  development, 
did  not  treat  his  museum  collections  tribally  and  geograph- 
ically but  arranged  the  objects  in  assumed  chronological 
sequences.  This  is  quite  opposed  to  the  usual  point  of  view, 
We  have  gone  to  some  length  to  emphasize  that  the  com- 
munity or  the  tribe  is  the  recognized  unit  in  anthropology, 
and  consequently,  when  one  visits  a  museum  presenting 
collections  from  living  peoples,  he  finds  them  arranged  by 
tribes  and  not  according  to  the  form  and  structure  of  the 
objects  themselves.  Classification  by  tribes  is  considered 
scientific,  because  one  can  ordinarily  be  sure  that  the  objects 
listed  did  come  from  the  tribe  to  which  they  are  attributed; 
at  least  such  information  is  usually  verifiable.  On  the  other 
hand,  when  one  arranges  the  fire-making  appliances  of  the 
world  in  a  series  such  as  we  have  noted  above,  he  is  resorting 
to  interpretation  and  drawing  a  conclusion,  which,  in  the 
nature  of  the  case,  cannot  be  objectively  verified.  The  tribal 
arrangement  is  now  regarded  as  the  proper  one  in  a  museum, 
since  it  records  the  association  of  the  objects,  as  observed  and 
observable;  the  student  can  then  compare  them  at  will,  and 
draw  his  conclusions  accordingly. 

For  the  sake  of  completeness  we  should  not  close  this  his- 
torical sketch  without  noting  the  work  of  the  great  builder 
of  anthropological  museums,  F.  W.  Putnam  (1839-1915)4 
He  seems  to  have  been  a  many-sided  man,  with  a  genius  for 
leadership  and  a  belief  in  the  study  of  objects  rather  than 
books;  he  stood  for  true  field  work  in  anthropology"  as 
opposed  to  mere  collecting,  insisting  that  museums  should 
become  research  institutions  and  not  purchasers  of  the  curios 


450  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

offered  them  by  unscientific  collectors.  It  was  under  his 
leadership  that  the  Peabody  Museum  at  Harvard  University, 
the  anthropological  section  of  the  American  Museum  of 
Natural  History  in  New  York,  the  Field  Museum  of  Natu- 
ral History  in  Chicago,  and  the  anthropological  section  of 
the  University  of  California,  were  established.  In  general, 
the  rise  of  anthropological  museums  as  research  institutions, 
in  Europe  as  well  as  in  America,  may  be  said  to  have  come 
strongly  to  the  fore  by  1870  and  these  institutions  continue 
to  be  productive  of  research. 

TECHNOLOGICAL  PROGRESS 

A  number  of  technological  processes  have  wide  distribu- 
tions and  have  persisted  over  great  periods  of  time.  Flaking, 
or  chipping  stone  is  one  of  these;  it  is  the  oldest  technique  of 
which  we  have  archaeological  record.  Naturally,  this  does  not 
mean  that  it  is  the  first  technological  process  devised  by  man, 
but  merely  that  it  is  the  first  handicraft  using  materials  suffi- 
ciently resistant  to  have  survived.  Whether  work  in  wood  or 
something  equally  perishable  preceded  work  in  stone,  we 
may  never  know,  but  it  can  be  demonstrated  that,  in  so  far 
as  Palaeolithic  Europe  is  concerned,  the  working  of  bone 
came  in  long  after  work  in  stone.  Wood  is,  therefore,  about 
ihe  only  known  material  that  might  have  preceded  stone. 
Further,  we  find  in  the  stone  work  of  Palaeolithic  Europe, 
first,  crude,  simple  forms,  and  later,  much  more  elaborate 
implements.  In  fact,  the  early  forms  are  so  simple  that  the 
experts  are  not  agreed  as  to  where  the  line  may  be  safely 
drawn  between  fractures  of  stone  due  to  natural  phenomena 
and  those  purposefully  executed  by  man.  However,  as  soon 
as  the  working  of  stone  reaches  a  stage  where  the  primitive 
technician  has  in  mind  a  definite  form  of  implement  and 
a  fixed  procedure  in  striking  off  chips,  then  the  close  simi- 
larity of  the  artifacts  found  in  a  campsite  and  the  wide  dis- 
tribution of  the  same  form  will  reveal  the  character  of  the 
technique  employed  by  the  makers. 

Thus,  the  distinction  between  true  eoliths  and  accidental 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  453 

fractures  hinges  upon  the  minimum  human  design,  or  pat 
tern.  Fractured  flint,  or  similar  stone,  is  not  proof  of  human 
agency,  because  flints  may  be  broken  from  pressure  in  the 
original  bed.  On  the  other  hand,  if  broken  by  design  to  serve 
some  purpose,  the  flints  should  closely  follow  a  pattern,  or 
type.  The  earliest  forms  of  flints  certainly  the  work  of  man 
are  all  made  after  one  basic  pattern :  a  pebble  is  selected  and 
shaped  by  striking  off  flakes.  The  following  is  a  rough  out- 
line of  the  development  of  their  technique: 

1.  Eoliths — doubtful  forms  because  not  distinguished  from 
pebbles  fractured  by  other  than  human  agencies,  miocene, 
and  pliocene  finds. 

2.  Rostro-cari nates — a  series  of  large  flints  from  pliocene 
beds  in  England.  These  are  regarded  as  presenting  the  mini- 
mum of  pattern  and  as  an  advance  over  eoliths.  These  rostro- 
carinates  have  a  ridge  extending  their  entire  length  and  end 
in  a  kind  of  beak. 

3.  Coup-de-poing — large  pebbles  shaped  by  striking  oil 
large  flakes  from  one  end;  age,  pre-Chellean,  of  the  pleisto- 
cene. In  later  divisions  of  the  Chellean  the  butt  of  the  origi- 
nal surface  disappears. 

4.  Acheulcan — the  simplest  forms  follow  the  above  lines 
but  become  thinner  and  the  flakes  smaller. 

The  preceding  are  made  by  trimming  down  a  pebble,  or 
by  shaping  what  is  technically  known  as  the  core.  Yet,  the 
occasional  use  of  flakes  begins  to  make  its  appearance  in 
Chellean  times  and  increases  gradually  to  the  end  of  the 
Acheulean  period.  The  Mousterian  horizon,  however,  comes 
in  with  a  dominance  of  the  use  of  flakes,  the  cores  being  dis- 
carded. The  Aurignacian  period  shows  flakes  of  greater 
length  and  delicacy  and  then  comes  the  Solutrean  with  its 
fine  "laurel-leaf"  blades  with  surface  chipping. 

We  note  that  these  slow,  simple  developments  extend  oyer 
two  geological  periods  variously  estimated  as  many  thou- 
sand years.  We  cannot  help  being  impressed  by  the  impor- 
tance of  the  least  possible  technological  step,  and  how  great 


452  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

an  achievement  even  the  absolute  minimum  in  pattern  may 
represent. 

It  is  easy  for  us  to  sense  how  a  precise  way  of  making  a 
basket  may  be  spread  from  tribe  to  tribe,  but  when  we  are 
confronted  with  a  museum  collection  of  artifacts  from  Chel- 
lean  stone  age  horizons,  in  which  occur  such  simple  forms  as 
the  grattoir,  or  planing  tool,  it  is  difficult  to  see  that  here  also 
the  worker  had  a  pattern  in  mind  and  attained  it  by  a  fixed 
chipping  technique;  yet,  this  will  be  clearly  realized  after 
careful  study  of  many  such  specimens.  Further,  when  we 
consider  the  long  periods  of  time  in  Palaeolithic  Europe  be- 
fore anything  more  elaborate  appears  and  begin  to  realize 
that  these  simple,  and,  to  us,  crude  forms,  represented  the 
maximum  achievements  in  stone,  we  see  the  problem  of 
technology  in  a  new  light. 

We  sometimes  hear  that  the  art  of  working  stone  began  to 
decline  in  the  Bronze  Age  and  disappeared  altogether  in  the 
Iron  Age,  but  primitive  peoples  were  making  stone  points 
and  knives  when  discovered  in  the  fifteenth  and  sixteenth 
centuries  and  some  of  them  are  still  doing  it.  And,  of  course, 
broadly  viewed,  the  use  of  stone  in  some  form,  with  many 
special  techniques,  survives  in  the  most  civilized  countries. 
It  is  true,  however,  that  the  introduction  of  metal  soon  causes 
stone  tools  to  disappear. 

Students  of  stone  tools  have  pointed  out  that  they  fall  into 
a  few  classes,  according  to  use,  as  striking,  rubbing,  scraping, 
cutting,  sawing,  piercing,  and  boring,  and  that  these  func- 
tions may  be  served,  as  in  early  Palaeolithic  times,  by  two  or 
three  simple  forms,  and  that  the  development  of  stone  tool 
technique  has  been  in  the  direction  of  specialized  forms.  If, 
however,  we  turn  to  the  processes  used  in  making  these 
tools,  these  are,  in  the  main,  flaking,  pecking  and  grinding, 
and  all  the  many  special  techniques  used  by  living  and  ex- 
tinct races  fall,  for  the  most  part,  under  these  heads.  To  come 
to  a  better  understanding  of  what  is  meant,  the  reader 
should  examine  a  well-ordered  exhibit  in  a  museum,  but. 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  453 < 

if  this  is  not  feasible,  read  some  of  the  special  treatises  on 
the  subject.2 

Ceramics,  or  pottery,  is  another  important  subject.  Pottery 
does  not  appear  in  Europe  until  the  Neolithic  period  and  is 
not  found  among  many  primitive  peoples.  To  the  archaeolo- 
gist, however,  as  we  have  stated,  it  is  as  useful  in  establishing 
chronological  and  regional  differences  as  are  fossils  in  the 
work  of  the  geologist,  but  the  distinctions  upon  which  the 
archaeologist  bases  his  chronology  are  the  secondary  details 
of  surface  finish  and  design,  rather  than  gross  structure. 

In  outline,  the  making  of  pottery  includes  the  follow* 
ing  steps: 

1.  The  mixing  of  the  clays  and  the  introduction  of  granu- 
lar tempering  material,  sand,  crushed  rock,  etc. 

2.  Shaping  the  vessel.  This  may  be  done  by  squeezing 
masses  of  clay  into  the  required  shape;  by  coiling  rolls  of 
clay  spirally;  or  by  shaping  on  a  wheel,  and  by  molding. 

3.  Smoothing  off  the  surface. 

4.  Drying. 

5.  If  an  ornamental  surface  is  desired,  an  earthen  slip  i? 
prepared  and  spread  thinly  over  the  surface;  when  glaze  is 
desired,  the  necessary  slip  is  added. 

6.  If  designs  are  to  be  in  color,  these  are  painted  on  the 
surface;  if  they  are  incised  or  stamped  into  the  surface,  they 
are  executed  after  the  pot  is  shaped,  but  before  it  dries. 

7.  Firing.8 

Shaping  and  decorating  pottery  being  a  plastic  art,  it  has 
offered  an  easy  road  to  expression  and  to  tribal  individuality, 
and  so  the  study  of  tribal  styles  and  regional  patterns  in  the 
ceramic  art  has  been  carried  to  great  detail. 

Another  technological  process,  as  old  or  older  than  pottery, 
is  weaving.  The  basic  processes  are  found  in  such  crude,  bur 
useful,  forms  as  wattling,  but  are  more  clearly  seen  in  bas» 
ketry.  Reference  to  any  treatise  on  basketry  will  give  illus- 
trations of  the  important  weaves  as,  plain,  checker,  twilled, 
twined,  and  coiled.  Matting  tends  to  follow  the  methods  of 
basketry.  Cloth  is  usually  either  plain  or  twill,  differing  from 


454  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

basketry  only  in  that  the  materials  are  of  cord,  the  production 
of  which  calls  for  a  spinning  technique.4 

Another  important  aspect  of  technological  research  is  that 
through  it  stand  revealed  the  basic  factors  in  industrial  proc- 
esses. The  weaving  of  a  carpet  on  a  modern  loom  impresses 
one  as  an  intricate  procedure  and  it  takes  the  uninitiated  per- 
son a  long  time  to  comprehend  it  all,  but  a  study  of  textile 
processes  as  a  whole,  primitive  and  civilized,  makes  it  plain 
that  the  weaving  of  such  a  fabric  is  resolvable  into  a  few 
simple  processes  known  to  primitive  peoples.  For  example,  in 
the  matter  of  materials,  the  textile  industry  makes  use  of  four 
types  of  fiber:  wool,  bast,  cotton,  and  silk.  Hair  was  used  by 
the  primitive  Australians  for  twisting  into  string;  many 
other  peoples  used  the  bark  of  plants  for  the  same  purpose. 
Cotton  appears  in  aboriginal  America  at  an  early  date.  Silk, 
on  the  other  hand,  seems  to  possess  a  reasonable  antiquity  in 
the  old  civilization  of  eastern  Asia.  Naturally,  the  making  of 
string  is  the  foundation  of  cloth  and,  for  materials,  man  has 
been  limited  to  the  animal  and  vegetable  fibers  that  pos- 
sessed the  clinging  properties  necessary  for  spinning.  Now,  so 
far  as  the  data  in  anthropology  go,  every  people,  however 
simple  their  culture,  understand  the  principle  of  twisting 
string  from  animal  or  vegetable  fiber;  spinning  may  be 
accomplished  with  the  fingers  and  thumb,  unaided,  by 
rolling  the  fiber  on  the  skin  of  the  leg  under  the  palm  of  the 
hand,  by  twisting  with  a  spindle  whorl,  by  a  spring  wheel, 
etc.  The  more  complicated  appliances  may  increase  the 
output,  but  really  do  nothing  that  cannot  be  turned  out 
by  the  hands  alone.  The  basic  process  thus  underlies  the 
production  of  cord  from  the  beginning  to  the  present  and 
the  mechanization  of  the  process  is  seen  to  have  begun  in 
very  early  times. 

When  weaving  is  analyzed  it  is  found  to  consist  of  little 
more  than  one  concept,  the  most  natural  form  being  that 
of  interlacing  rods  or  cords  at  right  angles  to  each  other. 
This  process  is  also  known  to  most  every  people,  though 
«ome  may  never  use  it  except  in  interlacing  a  few  sticks; 


SOCIAL    ORGANISATION  455 

yet,  again  the  process  is  always  the  same,  the  crossing  rod 
or  cord  alternately  passing  over  and  under.  Also,  so  far  as» 
the  data  go,  matting  and  basketry  tend  to  appear  before 
cloth,  using  these  terms  in  the  modern  sense;  but  the  dis- 
tinction here  is  chiefly  in  the  materials  used  for  weaving: 
coarse  materials  resulting  in  mats  and  baskets,  fine  materials 
in  bags  and  cloth.  Like  the  spinning  process,  weaving  pre- 
sents several  types  of  mechanization,  a  simple  frame,  the 
addition  of  a  beater  to  force  the  weft  down  on  the  woof, 
the  heddle  to  give  the  pattern,  the  development  of  the 
shuttle,  and  finally,  the  use  of  foot  and  then  of  machine 
power  to  operate  the  loom. 

In  this  same  way  we  might  analyze  pottery,  agriculture, 
stonework,  metal  work,  woodwork,  fire-making,  etc.,  find- 
ing one  or  more  simple  fundamental  process  used  throughout 
each  cycle,  some,  which  seem  to  have  begun  with  man  and 
to  have  been  in  continuous  use  to  the  present;  others  appear 
at  various  periods  in  human  history.  It  was  the  discovery  of 
this  characteristic  of  civilized  industry  that  inspired  the 
leaders  of  research  in  technology  and  which,  in  large 
measure,  led  to  the  establishing  of  anthropological  museums. 

THE  EVOLUTION   OF   TECHNOLOGICAL   PROCESSES 

Even  brief  sketches  of  a  few  widely  distributed  industrial 
processes,  such  as  have  been  cited,  and  a  cursor/  glance  at 
a  museum  collection,  suggest  that  there  has  been  a  more 
or  less  gradual  evolution  of  these  processes.  Our  experience 
in  life  and  our  traditions  commit  us  to  the  belief  that  all 
our  productive  techniques  have  developed  by  accretions  from 
very  simple  beginnings.  This  was  fully  recognized  in  the 
time  of  Tylor  and  Pitt-Rivers,  but  when  collections  of 
handwork  from  primitive  peoples  became  available,  thi? 
sequence  at  once  assumed  a  worldwide  and  all-embracing 
character.  Stone  was  not  only  worked  by  primitive  peoples,, 
but  archaeological  researches  in  Europe  made  it  clear  that 
the  earliest  steps  in  the  development  of  this  art  wete  simple 
and  crude.  As  this  idea  seemed  to  be  in  agreement' with 


456  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

the  experience  of  civilized  man,  it  was  natural  to  assume 
that  by  arranging  objects  made  by  primitive  and  civilized 
men,  according  to  their  apparent  logical  sequences,  the  steps 
in  the  evolution  of  these  processes  would  be  revealed.  In 
discussing  the  history  of  technology,  we  noted  the  formula- 
tion ot  this  method  of  interpretation  by  which  it  was 
proposed  to  recover  the  whole  story  of  man's  culture  achieve- 
ments. Recalling  our  studies  of  animism  and  of  social 
organization,  we  see  that  the  development  of  these  insights 
is  parallel  to  that  for  technology.  Further,  as  the  study  of 
technological  collections  continued,  difficulties  were  en- 
countered, similar  to  those  noted  for  animism  and  social 
organization.  It  is  often  possible  to  arrange  the  objects  in 
a  collection  in  a  sequence,  or  in  steps,  presenting  what 
seems  to  be  a  plausible  order  of  evolution,  but,  for  one  thing, 
one  cannot  be  sure  that  he  has  a  complete  series  of  objects; 
in  any  case,  a  check  is  needed  in  the  form  of  historical, 
geographical,  or  chronological  data.  Thus,  the  reason  we 
can  speak  definitely  of  successive  steps  in  chipping  stone  in 
early  Europe  is  that  by  the  method  of  stratification  we  can 
give  the  time  order  in  which  the  various  forms  of  chipping 
appear.  Nevertheless,  the  pioneer  studies  of  Pitt-Rivers  and 
Mason  led  the  way  to  the  development  of  museum  collec- 
tions and  the  study  of  material  culture,  now  an  important 
line  of  anthropological  research. 

As  the  matter  stands,  then,  the  general  problem  as  to  the 
chronological  steps  in  the  history  of  weaving,  pottery,  etc., 
is  still  an  objective  and  in  the  minds  of  many  investigators 
the  primary  objective.  The  immediate  problems  are  to  an- 
alyze the  regional  data  for  these  technologies,  tribe  by  tribe. 
A  good  example  of  such  studies  is  seen  in  the  researches 
among  the  Indians  of  California  conducted  by  the  Uni- 
versity of  California.5 

THE  PROBLEM  OF  INVENTION 

One  of  the  important  questions  arising  out  of  technologi- 
cal studies  is  whether  the  improvements  in  technological 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  457 

processes  originate  after  the  manner  of  modern  inventions, 
or  whether  they  are  arrived  at  in  a  different  way.  In 
archaeology  this  question  can  only  be  approached  by  a  study 
of  the  specimens  themselves;  among  living  peoples,  it  is  theo* 
retically  possible  that  the  histories  of  changes  in  technique 
can  be  recovered,  but  in  practice  this  is  rarely  attained.  So, 
for  the  most  part,  this  history  must  be  read,  if  read  at  all, 
in  the  specimens  themselves.  Invention,  as  we  generally  con- 
ceive it,  is  a  cumulative  process,  one  step  succeeding  another. 
For  example,  we  know  how  the  steam  engine  was  developed 
by  many  successive  improvements  and  is  still  being  changed. 
Watt,  after  all,  did  little  more  than  start  on  the  right  track. 
So,  seeing  a  series  of  stone  tools  from  Palaeolithic  Europe, 
and  noting  that  the  early  forms  are  nothing  more  than 
stones  of  convenient  size,  the  ends  of  which  have  been 
rudely  pointed  by  knocking  off  chips,  and  later  examples  in 
which  slender  long  chips  are  struck  off  and  these  worked 
down  to  symmetrical  forms  by  skillful,  detailed  chipping, 
we  find  little  difficulty  in  seeing  parallelism.  Cave  man  after 
cave  man,  we  think,  improved  the  method  and  discovered 
better  stone;  finally,  some  one  proved  it  better  to  use  the 
chip  than  the  original  core  and  so  on.  This  seems,  on  the  face 
of  it,  the  expected  human  way  in  which  all  that  we  see  cam? 
about,  and,  if  we  stop  there,  it  may  appear  that  all  men,  sav* 
age  or  civilized,  progress  by  invention,  just  as  they  all 
breathe,  sleep,  and  eat. 

And  this  is  so  matter  of  course  that  there  would  be  no 
reason  for  questioning  it  were  it  not  for  the  time  element. 
A  change  of  the  simplest  kind,  extending  over  a  period  of 
seemingly  thousands  of  years,  is  quite  a  different  matter 
from  the  story  of  the  steam  engine.  When  an  object  like  an 
arrow  point  reaches  a  high  state  of  perfection,  then  one  can 
understand  its  stability,  but  why,  if  invention  is  the  order 
of  the  day,  should  stone  technique  have  lagged  so  long  in 
the  beginning? 

Our  conception  of  invention  assumes  some  previous 
knowledge  of  techniques  and  materials  and  the  recognition 


45^  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

of  a  desired  objective.  We  are  told  that  the  whole  matter 
may  be  accidental  and  unconscious,  but  it  is  difficult  to 
account  for  the  survival  of  a  trick,  unless  the  observer  had 
a  much-desired  objective  in  mind  and  saw  in  the  new 
method  a  suggestion  of  accelerating  its  attainment.  We  are 
also  forced  to  concede  that  if  invention  among  cave  men 
proceeded  as  it  does  among  ourselves,  then  a  great  deal 
of  thought  must  have  been  given  at  one  time  and  another 
to  the  nature  of  stone  materials,  the  specific  objectives,  etc.; 
otherwise  we  could  not  account  for  what  occurred;  but  we 
are  told  that  we  are  assuming  too  much  on  the  part  of  primi' 
tive  man,  or  becoming  too  rationalistic.  At  the  same  time, 
it  is  claimed  that  the  mind  of  primitive  man  works  just 
like  that  of  a  Darwin  or  a  Newton.  What  these  confusing 
statements  imply  is  that  the  last  word  has  not  been  said  re- 
specting the  primitive  mind;  those  who  insist  that  in  the 
earliest  stone  age  man  had  a  mind  capable  of  anything  man 
does  to-day,  are  asking  us  to  believe  that  he  not  only  came 
on  the  scene  with  an  equipment  equal  to  something  a  mil- 
lion years  off,  but  that  this  equipment  lay  relatively  idle 
for  a  long  time.  Yet,  we  are  told  that  even  if  our  Chellean 
predecessors  possessed  the  minds  of  Edison  and  the  like, 
there  was  no  chance  for  them  to  function,  and  so  nothing 
happened.  While  there  is  some  sense  to  this  argument,  it 
does  not  satisfy,  and  so  it  seems  wiser  to  leave  the  question 
open.  But*  to  return  to  the  nature  of  the  process  itself;  we 
might  agree  to  the  probability  that  stone  tools  began  with 
taking  a  stone  in  the  hand  for  pounding,  scraping,  etc.  Then 
may  have  come  the  idea  of  selecting  a  stone  of  better  shape, 
the  idea  of  re-shaping,  etc.;  but  we  are  merely  reading  our 
own  experience  and  belief  into  the  phenomena,  just  as  is 
frequently  done  in  explaining  the  acts  of  animals.  How- 
ever, to  explain  a  technique  or  an  invention  we  must  assume 
existing  experience  and  knowledge  as  the  starting  point. 

The  problem  then  resolves  itself  into  an  objective  exami- 
nation of  stone-working  technique  and  a  comparison  of  the 
established  sequences  with  those  in  the  technological  proc- 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  459 

esses  of  modern  times,  which  we  know  can  be  safely  inter- 
preted in  the  light  of  our  experience.  If  the  parallel  seems 
close,  then  we  have  a  strong  case.  The  doubtful  point  is,  as 
we  have  stated,  that  the  time  element  in  the  cave  period 
seems  extraordinarily  long,  raising  the  question  as  to 
whether  the  changes  in  early  stone  technique  came  about  as 
mere  drifts,  or  by  sudden  insights  after  the  mode  of  the 
present.  No  satisfactory  answer  to  these  questions  can  be 
given  now.  Penetrating  research  is  necessary  along  this  line, 

POTTERY   AND  AGRICULTURE 

We  turn  now  to  some  of  the  problems  that  have  arisen 
in  the  study  of  museum  collections  and  technological  data. 
In  the  New  World  it  was  observed  that  the  geographical 
distributions  of  agriculture  and  pottery  were  fairly  coinci- 
dent; in  the  Old  World,  also,  the  two  arts  seem  to  coincide. 
This  raises  the  question  asvto  the  nature  of  this  linkage. 
First,  let  us  appraise  the  data.  In  America  we  do  find  some 
small  exceptions,  for  pottery  seems  to  have  been  known  to 
a  few  tribes  just  beyond  the  margin  of  the  agricultural 
area.  These  exceptions,  however,  do  not  negate  the  over- 
lapping of  agriculture  and  pottery  in  the  great  central  area 
of  the  New  World.  However,  we  have  an  important  ex- 
ception, since  the  Eskimo  west  of  Hudson  Bay,  and  some 
of  the  non-agricultural  Siberians,  make  a  little  pottery. 
Turning  to  archa:ology,  we  find  the  time  of  appearance  for 
pottery  tending  to  follow  closely  the  appearance  of  agricul" 
ture;  yet,  there  are  but  three  areas  in  the  world  for  which 
we  have  good  working  chronological  outlines:  south 
western  United  States,  western  Europe,  Egypt  and  Mesopo- 
tamia. 

In  southwestern  United  States  the  earliest  well-known 
culture  is  that  of  the  Basket  Makers  who,  as  the  term  im- 
plies, made  baskets,  but  no  pots;  yet,  they  possessed  a  simple 
form  of  agriculture.  Following  the  Basket  Makers,  how< 
ever,  or  in  their  later  career,  pottery  appears,  and  from 
that  time  on,  develops  hand  in  hand  with  agriculture.8  The 


.\6o  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

minute  chronologies  for  other  areas  in  North  and  South 
America  have  not  been  worked  out  in  sufficient  detail  to 
say  more  than  that  agriculture  and  pottery  seem  to  appear 
synchronously. 

Turning  to  the  Old  World,  we  find  in  Egypt  and  Mesopo- 
tamia again  a  close  association  between  the  two  arts. 

The  problem  here  is  similar  to  that  raised  by  Hobhouse T 
and  earlier  by  Tylor.  Simply  stated,  it  is  whether  certain  arts 
and  customs  occur  together  more  often  than  separately.  So 
stated,  the  preliminary  inquiry  becomes  statistical,  or  a 
matter  of  listing  tribe  after  tribe  until  all  the  available  data 
have  been  used.  This  was  the  method  employed  by  Hob- 
house,  but  he  confined  his  inquiry  to  social  and  economic 
traits  of  culture,  rather  than  to  technology.  Thus,  he  observed 
that  polygamous  marriages  were  far  less  frequent  among 
hunters  than  among  pastoral  and  agricultural  tribes;  also, 
that  the  frequency  of  wife  purchase  increased  greatly  as  one 
passed  from  hunters  to  the  more  intense  pastoral  and  agri- 
cultural cultures.  These  findings  tend  to  support  the  state- 
ment frequently  made  that  the  more  advanced  cultures  are 
responsible  for  the  larger  polygamous  families  and  for  the 
extreme  commercialism  of  marriage.  Or,  to  put  the  matter 
in  another  way,  the  organization  and  increased  efficiency 
of  agriculture  went  hand  in  hand  with  the  development  of 
marriage  systems.  This  result  does  not  throw  light  upon 
which  appeared  first,  agriculture  or  polygamy,  it  merely 
links  them  or  reveals  a  tendency  to  associate.  In  the  case  of 
pottery  and  agriculture  we  can  approach  the  question  of 
origin  by  direct  archaeological  methods  and  speak  definitely 
of  the  relative  sequence  in  which  agriculture  and  pottery 
appear;  the  only  difficulty  lies  in  the  incompleteness  of 
data,  a  defect  which  future  archaeological  research  may  be 
expected  to  remedy. 

However,  the  fundamental  question  involved  here  is 
whether  culture  traits  are  associated  in  this  way  because 
they  are  related  or  dependent  in  function,^  or  whether  they 
"just  happen  to  occur  together.  This  is  a  problem  we  can 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  4l 

best  discuss  when  we  come  to  a  consideration  of  the  dis- 
tribution of  cultures  and  their  relations  to  each  other. 

INFLUENCE  OF  MATERIALS   UPON   FORM 

While  it  is  true  that  the  first  great  impetus  to  the  study 
of  technology  came  in  the  attempt  to  solve  one  all- 
embracing  problem,  or  to  discuss  the  principle  according  to 
which  technology  as  a  whole  evolved,  there  have  arisen  from 
time  to  time  a  number  of  special  problems.  One  of  these  is 
the  influence  of  the  original  form  of  the  materials  used  in 
determining  shape  and  design.  For  example,  in  weaving 
with  coarse  materials,  as  in  matting  and  basketry,  the  sur- 
face takes  on  a  checker  appearance  due  to  the  crossing  of  the 
weaving  elements.  A  splint  basket  will  show  this  clearly 
and  it  is  likely  that  when  weaving  is  regular,  all  peoples, 
primitive  or  otherwise,  find  the  symmetry  pleasing.  But  color 
may  be  used  to  complicate  the  surface  pattern,  by  using 
splints  of  cwo  colors,  and  in  the  more  complicated  schemes, 
several  colors.  Yet,  the  result  is  a  series  of  angular  geometric 
figures  and  not  curved  and  realistic  designs.  In  short,  the 
weaving  process  tends  to  commit  one  to  geometric  design 
and  this  is  why  it  is  frequently  assumed  that  the  one  is  an 
outgrowth  of  the  other  and  that  whenever  we  meet  with 
geometric  designs  upon  pottery  it  is  because  basketry  pre- 
ceded pottery.  There  is  some  truth  in  this,  but  that  geometric 
art  never  arose  in  any  other  way  is,  in  the  present  state  of 
our  knowledge,  an  unjustifiable  assumption. 

On  the  other  hand,  a  good  case  can  be  made  for  con- 
vergence in  development,  since  in  different  parts  of  the 
world  similar  basketry  materials,  worked  by  similar  weaves, 
do  result  in  similar  decorative  patterns.  In  this  case,  it  is 
safe  to  say  that  the  materials  and  the  processes  determined 
the  decorative  forms  evolved. 

Pottery  is  often  considered  free  from  such  determining 
factors  because  of  the  plasticity  of  its  materials,  ,and  it  is 
difficult  to  think  of  anything  much  more  plastic  than  soft 
wet  clay;  yet  time  and  again,  attention  has  been  called  to 


462  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

the  similarity  in  form  between  certain  pottery  vessels  and 
gourds,  shells,  and  baskets.  If,  as  appears  to  be  the  usual 
sequence,  basketry  and  the  use  of  gourds,  etc.,  precede  pot- 
tery, then  we  can  safely  say  that  the  pottery  shapes  observed 
were  influenced  by  the  forms  of  the  containers  displaced  by 
pots.  Further,  as  intimated  above,  we  do  often  find  painted 
designs  upon  pots,  closely  resembling  those  upon  baskets  and 
other  textiles;  this,  however,  might  occur  at  any  time,  inde- 
pendent of  sequence  or  use  of  the  objects  to  be  decorated,  and 
so  is  not  clearly  an  evidence  of  the  direct  influence  of  textile 
art  upon  that  of  pottery.8 

The  detailed  study  of  moccasins  is  another  interesting 
chapter  in  technology.9  The  simplest  and  probably  the  oldest 
form  is  that  in  which  a  single  piece  of  skin  is  shaped  over 
the  foot,  like  a  stocking.  It  is  true  this  piece  of  skin  is  first 
cut  according  to  a  pattern,  so  that  when  the  edges  of  the 
piece  are  sewed  up,  the  resulting  moccasin  fits  the  foot. 
Certain  moccasins  from  the  peat  bogs  of  Europe  have  come 
to  light,  dating  back  to  the  Bronze  Age  and  beyond;  some 
of  these  seem  to  have  been  formed  from  pieces  of  skin  from 
the  head  of  a  deer,  the  shape  of  which  was  such  as  to  require 
little  trimming,  offering  the  tantalizing  suggestion  that  the 
peculiar  pattern  for  the  North  American  soft-soled  moccasin 
was  also  derived  from  the  natural  shape  of  a  head  skin.  This, 
however,  cannot  be  proved;  but  when  we  turn  to  the  decora- 
tions upon  Indian  moccasins  we  see  every  indication  that  the 
moccasin  pattern  employed  by  the  tribe  set  the  styles  of 
decoration.  For  example,  one  pattern  for  a  soft-soled  mocca- 
sin requires  a  U-shaped  insert  over  the  instep  and  it  is  the 
practice  of  the  tribes  using  this  pattern  to  decorate  this  insert. 
Yet,  a  number  of  tribes  use  this  same  U-shaped  decoration 
upon  moccasins  of  a  different  pattern  requiring  no  insert; 
in  other  words,  to  keep  the  same  appearance  of  the  mocca- 
sin as  comes  naturally  in  the  old  pattern,  a  fake  insert  is 
laid  over  the  surface.  If  this  were  the  only  instance  of  such 
Similarity  it  could  be  treated  lightly,  but  parallel  occurrences 
in  other  parts  of  moccasin  patterns  and  decorative  fields 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  463 

have  been  noted;  also,  we  find  similar  correspondence  in 
decoration  and  pattern  in  certain  types  of  skin  clothing. 
We  may  safely  generalize,  then,  with  the  statement  that  the 
pattern,  or  the  shape,  of  the  material  in  shoe  and  garment, 
often  exerts  a  determining  influence  upon  the  decoration, 
occasionally  originating  specified  designs. 

To  show  how  the  natural  shape  of  skins  may  determine 
the  style  of  a  garment,  one  needs  but  study  men's  and 
women's  shirts  in  a  museum  collection  from  the  Indians 
of  the  Plains.10  The  older  shirts  for  men  in  such  collections 
are  made  of  two  mountain  sheepskins,  or  from  the  skins  of 
a  small  deer.  These  are  placed  back  to  back,  with  scarcely 
any  trimming  or  cutting,  thus  making  a  shirt  of  peculiar 
pattern.  The  later  shirts  are  made  of  large  skins,  and  some- 
times from  cloth,  but  the  material  is  now  cut  to  simulate 
the  original  pattern.  Thus,  the  peculiar  sleeves  and  side 
pendants  to  the  garment  did  not  originate  in  the  imagination 
of  the  designer,  but  were  determined  by  the  original  mate- 
rials. In  these  same  collections  the  garments  for  women  are 
of  a  different  pattern,  but  were  originally  fashioned  of  two 
complete  skins  and  so  their  peculiar  pattern  was  also  deter- 
mined by  the  material  itself. 

Turning  to  woven  garments  we  often  find  the  same  prin- 
ciple in  operation.  Ordinary  hand-loom  weaving  gives  a 
fabric  that  cannot  be  cut  but  must  be  used  in  "the  square," 
as  it  were;  so  if  a  shirt  is  made,  its  body  must  be  plainly 
rectangular,  and  if  sleeves  are  added  they  must  be  uniformly 
rectangular;  hence,  the  simple  rigid  lines  of  woven  garments 
among  the  more  primitive  tribes  are  also  largely  determined 
by  the  material  itself.  Naturally,  these  limitations  can  be 
overcome,  but  such  studies  should  warn  us  not  to  assume  that 
styles  and  designs  are  pure  fictions  of  the  imagination,  until 
there  is  good  evidence  upon  which  to  base  a  judgment. 

SUMMARY 

Technology  is  a  general  term  covering  all  mechanical 
processes  involving  the  use  of  tools  and  the  shaping  of 


464  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

materials.  Objects  illustrating  technology  make  up  the  col- 
lections in  an  anthropological  museum.  Material  culture  is 
the  term  frequently  used  to  cover  technology  and  economics 
among  primitive  tribes.  Many  studies  are  based  exclusively 
upon  museum  collections.  Also  the  history  of  museums  is  in 
part  the  history  of  anthropology.  The  evolution  of  techno- 
logical processes  and  forms  is  one  of  the  most  interesting 
human  problems  in  social  science,  involving  the  whole  proc- 
tss  of  invention.  One  of  the  great  leads  in  anthropological 
research  was  the  idea  that  by  the  objective  comparative  study 
of  museum  collections,  an  objective  procedure,  one  could 
arrive  at  conclusions  as  to  how  technological  processes  and 
objects  evolved.  This  is  a  genetic  point  of  view,  though  the 
order  of  progression  is  quite  different  from  that  in  biological 
evolution. 

NOTES 

1  Otis  T.  Mason,  Aboriginal  American  Baskjctry:  Studies  in  a  Textile 
Art  Without  Machinery  (United  States  National  Museum  Report  for  1902, 
Washington,  1904). 

2  Otis  T.  Mason,  The  Origins  of  Invention   (London,   1895);   George 
Grant  MacCurdy,  Human  Origins:  A  Manual  of  Prehistory,  2  vols.  (New 
Vork  and  London,  1924);  Henry  Fairfield  Osborn,  Men  of  the  Old  Stone 
Age,  Their  Environment,  Life  and  Art  (New  York,  1915). 

3  Otis  1*.  Mason,  The  Origins  of  Invention  (London,  1895);  A.  C.  Parker, 
The  Indian  How  Book.  (New  York,  1927);  C.  E.  Guthe,  Pueblo  Pottery 
Making:  A  Study  of  the  Village  of  San  lldefonso  (New  Haven,  1925). 

4  Mary  Lois  Kisscll,  Yarn  and  Cloth  Making:  An  Economic  Study  (New 
York,  1918). 

5  A.  L.  Kroeber,  Handbook  of  the  Indians  of  California  (Bulletin  78, 
Bureau  of  American  Ethnology,  Washington,  1925). 

a  A.  V.  Kidder,  An  Introduction  to  the  Study  of  Southwestern  Archccology, 
with  a  Preliminary  Account  of  the  Excavations  at  Pecos  (New  Haven,  1924). 

7  L.  T.  Hobhouse,  G.  C.  Wheeler,  and  M.  Ginsberg,  The  Material  Cul- 
ture and  Social  Institutions  of  the  Simpler  Peoples,  an  Essay  in  Correlation 
(London,  1915). 

8  William  H.  Holmes,  Origin  and  Development  of  Form  and  Orna* 
ment  in  Ceramic  Art  (Fourth  Annual  Report,  Bureau  of  American  Eth- 
nology, Washington,  1886).  Max  Schmidt,  The  Primitive  Races  of  Man* 
kind.  A  Study  in  Ethnology  (Boston,  1926). 

9O.  T.  Mason,  Primitive  Travel  and  Transportation  (Report,  United 
States  National  Museum  for  1894,  Washington,  1896);  Gudmund  Hatt, 
Moccasins  and  Their  Relation  to  Arctic  Footwear  (Memoirs,  American 
Anthropological  Association,  vol.  iii,  pp.  251-250,  1916);  Clark  Wisslci/ 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  465 

Structural  Basis  to  the  Decoration  of  Costumes  Among  the  Plains  Indians. 
(Anthropological  Papers,  American  Museum  of  Natural  History,  vol.  xvii. 
part  iii,  1917). 

10  Clark  Wissler,  Costumes  of  the  Plains  Indians  (Anthropological  Papeis 
American  Museum  of  Natural  History,  vol.  xvii,  part  ii,  1915). 


CANNIBALISM* 

By  WILLIAM  GRAHAM  SUMNER 

Cannibalism.  Cannibalism  is  one  o£  the  primordial  mores. 
It  dates  from  the  earliest  known  existence  of  man  on 
earth.  It  may  reasonably  be  believed  to  be  a  custom  which 
all  peoples  have  practiced.1  Only  on  the  pastoral  stage  has 
it  ceased,  where  the  flesh  of  beasts  was  common  and 
abundant.2  It  is  indeed  noticeable  that  the  pygmies  of 
Africa  and  the  Kubus  of  Sumatra,  two  of  the  lowest  out- 
cast races,  do  not  practice  cannibalism,8  although  their 
superior  neighbors  do.  Our  intense  abomination  for  can- 
nibalism is  a  food  taboo,  and  is  perhaps  the  strongest  taboo 
which  we  have  inherited. 

Origin  in  food  supply.  It  is  the  best  opinion  that  can- 
nibalism originated  in  the  defects  of  the  food  supply,  more 
specifically  in  the  lack  of  meat  food.  The  often  repeated 
objection  that  New  Zealanders  and  others  have  practiced 
cannibalism  when  they  had  an  abundant  supply  of  meat 
food  is  not  to  the  point.  The  passion  for  meat  food,  espe- 
cially among  people  who  have  to  live  on  heavy  starch  food, 
is  very  strong.  Hence,  they  eat  worms,  insects,  and  offal. 
It  is  also  asserted  that  the  appetite  for  human  flesh,  when 
eating  it  has  become  habitual,  becomes  a  passion.  When 
salt  is  not  to  be  had  the  passion  for  meat  reaches  its  highest 
intensity.  "When  tribes  [of  Australians]  assembled  to  eat 
the  fruit  of  the  bunya-bunya  they  were  not  permitted  to 
kill  any  game  [in  the  district  where  the  trees  grow],  and 
at  length  the  craving  for  flesh  was  so  intense  that  they 
were  impelled  to  kill  one  of  their  number,  in  order  that 
their  appetites  might  be  satisfied."4  It  follows  that  when 
this  custom  has  become  traditional  the  present  food  supply 

*  Folkways,  New  York:  Ginn  &  Company. 

466 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  467 

may  have  little  effect  on  it.  There  are  cases  at  the  present 
time  in  which  the  practice  of  using  human  flesh  for  food 
is  customary  on  a  large  and  systematic  scale.  On  the  island 
of  New  Britain  human  flesh  is  sold  in  shops  as  butcher's 
meat  is  sold  amongst  us.5  In  at  least  some  of  the  Solomon 
Islands  human  victims  (preferably  women)  are  fattened 
for  a  feast,  like  pigs.0  Lloyd 7  describes  the  cannibalism  of 
the  Bangwa  as  an  everyday  affair  although  they  eat  chiefly 
enemies,  and  rarely  a  woman.  The  women  share  the  feast, 
sitting  by  themselves.  He  says  that  it  is,  no  doubt,  "a 
depraved  appetite."  They  are  not  at  all  ashamed  of  it. 
Physically  the  men  are  very  fine.  "The  cannibalism  of  the 
Monbutto  is  unsurpassed  by  any  nation  in  the  world."8 
Amongst  them  human  flesh  is  sold  as  if  it  were  a  staple 
article  of  food.  They  are  "a  noble  race."  They  have  national 
pride,  intellectual  power,  and  good  judgment.  They  are 
orderly,  friendly,  and  have  a  stable  national  life.0  Ward10 
describes  the  cannibalism  on  the  great  bend  of  the  Congo 
as  due  to  a  relish  for  the  kind  of  food.  "Originating,  ap- 
parently, from  stress  of  adverse  circumstances,  it  has  be- 
come an  acquired  taste,  the  indulgence  of  which  has  created 
a  peculiar  form  of  mental  disorder,  with  lack  of  feeling, 
love  of  fighting,  cruelty,  and  general  human  degeneracy, 
as  prominent  attributes."  An  organized  traffic  in  human 
beings  for  food  exists  on  the  upper  waters  of  the  Congo. 
It  is  thought  that  the  pygmy  tribe  of  the  Wambutti  are 
not  cannibals  because  they  are  too  "low,"  and  because  they 
do  not  file  the  lower  incisors.  The  latter  custom  goes  with 
cannibalism  in  the  Congo  region,  and  is  also  character- 
istic of  the  more  gifted,  beautiful,  and  alert  tribes.11  None 
of  the  coast  tribes  of  West  Africa  ea4-  human  flesh,  but 
the  interior  tribes  eat  any  corpse  regardless  of  the  cause 
of  death.  Families  hesitate  to  eat  their  own  dead,  but  they 
sell  or  exchange  them  for  the  dead  of  other  families,12  In 
the  whole  Congo  region  the  custom  exists,  especially 
amongst  the  warlike  tribes,  who  eat  not  only  war  captives 
but  slaves.1* 


468  THEMAKINGOFMAN 

It  is  noteworthy  that  a  fork 14  was  invented  in  Polynesia 
for  this  kind  of  food,  long  before  the  fork  was  used  for  any 
other. 

Cannibalism  not  abominable.  Spix  and  Martius  asked  a 
chief  of  the  Miranhas  why  his  people  practiced  cannibalism. 
The  chief  showed  that  it  was  entirely  a  new  fact  to  him 
that  some  people  thought  it  an  abominable  custom.  "You 
whites,"  said  he,  "will  not  eat  crocodiles  or  apes,  although 
they  taste  well.  If  you  did  not  have  so  many  pigs  and  crabs 
you  would  cat  crocodiles  and  apes,  for  hunger  hurts.  It  is 
all  a  matter  of  habit.  When  I  have  killed  an  enemy  it  is 
better  to  eat  him  than  to  let  him  go  to  waste.  Big  game  is 
rare  because  it  does  not  lay  eggs  like  turtles.  The  bad  thing 
is  not  being  eaten,  but  death,  if  I  am  slain,  whether  our  tribal 
enemy  eats  me  or  not.  I  know  of  no  game  which  tastes 
better  than  men.  You  whites  are  really  too  dainty." ir> 

In-grotip  cannibalism.  Cannibalism  was  so  primordial  in 
the  mores  that  it  has  two  forms,  one  for  the  in-group,  the 
other  for  tUc  out-group.  It  had  a  theory  of  affection  in 
the  former  case  and  of  enmity  in  the  latter.  In  the  in- 
group  it  was  so  far  from  being  an  act  of  hostility,  or 
veiled  impiopriety,  that  it  was  applied  to  the  closest  kin. 
Mothers  ale  their  babies,  if  the  latter  died,  in  order  to 
get  back  the  strength  which  they  had  lost  in  bearing  them. 
Herodotus  says  that  the  Massagetse  sacrificed  the  old  of 
their  tribe,  boiling  the  flesh  of  the  men  with  that  of  cattle 
and  eating  the  whole.  Those  who  died  of  disease  before 
attaining  old  age  were  buried,  but  that  they  thought  a 
less  happy  fate.  He  says  that  the  Padeans,  men  in  the 
far  east  of  India,  put  a  sick  man  of  their  tribe  to  death 
and  ate  him,  lest  his  flesh  should  be  wasted  by  disease. 
The  women  did  the  same  by  a  sick  woman.  If  any  reach 
old  age  without  falling  victims  to  this  custom,  they  too 
are  then  killed  and  eaten.  He  mentions  also  the  Issidones, 
in  southeastern  Russia,  who  cut  up  their  dead  fathers, 
mingle  the  flesh  with  that  of  sacrificed  animals,  and  make 
a  feast  of  the  whole.  The  skull  is  cleaned,  gilded,  and 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  469 

kept  as  an  emblem,  to  which  they  make  annual  sacrifices. 
They  are  accounted  a  righteous  people.  Amongst  them 
women  are  esteemed  equal  with  men.16  Strabo17  says  that 
the  Irish  thought  it  praiseworthy  to  eat  their  deceased 
parents.  The  Birhors  of  Hazaribag,  Hind  us. .ai,  formerly 
ate  their  parents,  but  "they  repudiate  the  suggestion  that 
they  ate  any  but  their  own  relations"  [i.e.,  each  one  ate 
his  own  relatives  and  no  others?].18  Reclus19  says  that  in 
that  tribe  "the  parents  beg  that  their  corpses  may  find  a 
refuge  in  the  stomachs  of  their  children  rather  than  be  left 
on  the  road  or  in  the  forest.  The  Tibetans,  in  ancient  times, 
ate  their  parents,"  out  of  piety,  in  order  to  give  them 
no  other  sepulcher  than  their  own  bowels.  This  custom 
ceased  before  1250  A.D.,  but  the  cups  made  of  the  skulls 
of  relatives  were  used  as  memorials.  Tartars  and  some 
"bad  Christians"  killed  their  fathers  when  old,  burned 
the  corpses,  and  mingled  the  ashes  with  their  daily  food.20 
In  the  gulf  country  of  Australia  only  near  relatives  par- 
take of  the  dead,  unless  the  corpse  is  that  of  an  enemy. 
A  very  small  bit  only  is  eaten  by  each.  In  the  case  of  an 
enemy  the  purpose  is  to  win  his  strength.  In  the  case  of  a 
relative  the  motive  is  that  the  survivors  may  not,  by  lam- 
entations, become  a  nuisance  in  the  camp.21  The  Dieyerie 
have  the  father  family.  The  father  may  not  eat  his  own 
child,  but  the  mother  and  female  relatives  must  do  so, 
in  order  to  have  the  dead  in  their  liver,  the  seat  of  feeling.22 
The  Tuare  of  Brazil  (2  S.  67  W.)  burn  their  dead.  They 
preserve  the  ashes  in  reeds  and  mix  them  with  their  daily 
meals.23  The  Jumanas,  on  the  head  waters  of  the  Amazon, 
regard  the  bones  as  the  seat  of  the  soul.  They  burn  the 
bones  of  their  dead,  grind  them  to  powder,  mix  the  powder 
with  intoxicating  liquor,  and  drink  it,  uthat  the  dead  may 
live  again  in  them."  24  All  branches  of  the  Tupis  are  can- 
nibals. They  brought  the  custom  from  the  interior.25  The 
Kobena  drink  in  their  cachiri  the  powdered  bones  of  their 
dead  relatives.23  The  Chavantes,  on  the  Uruguay,  eat  their 
dead  children  to  get  back  the  souls.  Especially  young 


47°  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

mothers  do  this,  as  they  are  thought  to  have  given  a  part 
of  their  own  souls  to  their  children  too  soon.27  In  West 
Victoria  "the  bodies  of  relatives  who  have  lost  their  lives 
by  violence  are  alone  partaken  of."  Each  eats  only  a  bit, 
and  it  is  eaten  "with  no  desire  to  gratify  or  appease  the 
appetite,  but  only  as  a  symbol  of  respect  and  regret  for 
the  dead." 28  In  Australian  cannibalism  the  eating  of  rela- 
tives has  behind  it  the  idea  of  saving  the  strength  which 
would  be  lost,  or  of  acquiring  the  dexterity  or  wisdom, 
etc.,  of  the  dead.  Enemies  are  eaten  to  win  their  strength, 
dexterity,  etc.  Only  a  bit  is  eaten.  There  are  no  great  feasts. 
The  fat  and  soft  parts  are  eaten  because  they  are  the  resi- 
dence of  th^  soul.  In  eating  enemies  there  appears  to  be 
ritual  significance.29  It  may  be  the  ritual  purpose  to  get 
rid  of  the  soul  of  the  slain  man  for  fear  that  it  might  seek 
revenge  for  his  death. 

Some  inhabitants  of  West  Australia  explained  cannibal- 
ism (they  ate  every  tenth  child  born)  as  "necessary  to  keep 
the  tribe  from  increasing  beyond  the  carrying  capacity  of 
the  territory."80  Infanticide  is  a  part  of  population  policy. 
Cannibalism  may  be  added  to  it  either  for  food  supply  or 
goblinism.  When  children  were  sacrificed  in  Mexico  their 
hearts  were  cooked  and  eaten,  for  sorcery.81 

Judicial  cannibalism.  Another  use  of  cannibalism  in  the 
in-group  is  to  annihilate  one  who  has  broken  an  important 
taboo.  The  notion  is  frequently  met  with,  amongst  nature 
peoples,  that  a  ghost  can  be  got  rid  of  by  utterly  anni- 
hilating the  corpse,  e.g.,  by  fire.  Judicial  cannibalism  de- 
stroys it,  and  the  members  of  the  group  by  this  act  partici- 
pate in  a  ritual,  or  sacramental  ceremony,  by  which  a 
criminal  is  completely  annihilated.  Perhaps  there  may  also 
be  the  idea  of  collective  responsibility  for  his  annihilation. 
To  take  the  life  of  a  tribe  comrade  was  for  a  long  time  an 
act  which  needed  high  motive  and  authority  and  required 
expiation.  The  ritual  of  execution  was  like  the  ritual  of 
sacrifice.  In  the  Hebrew  law  some  culprits  were  to  be 
stoned  by  the  whole  congregation.  Every  one  must  take 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  47! 

a  share  in  the  great  act.  The  blood  guilt,  if  there  was  any, 
must  be  incurred  by  all.32  Primitive  taboos  are  put  on  acts 
which  offend  the  ghosts  and  many,  therefore,  bring  woe  on 
the  whole  group.  Any  one  who  breaks  a  taboo  comrr.its 
a  sin  and  a  crime,  and  excites  the  wrath  of  the  superior 
powers.  Therefore  he  draws  on  himself  the  fear  and  horror 
of  his  comrades.  They  must  extrude  him  by  banishment 
or  death.  They  want  to  dissociate  themselves  from  him. 
They  sacrifice  him  to  the  powers  which  he  has  offeaded. 
When  his  comrades  eat  his  corpse  they  perform  a  duty. 
They  annihilate  him  and  his  soul  completely. 

Judicial  cannibalism  in  ethnography.  "A  man  found  in 
the  harem  of  Muatojamvos  was  cut  in  pieces  and  given, 
raw  and  warm,  to  the  people  to  be  eaten." 83  The  Bataks 
employ  judicial  cannibalism  as  a  regulated  system.  They 
have  no  other  cannibalism.  Adulterers,  persons  guilty  of 
incest,  men  who  have  had  sex  intercourse  wiih  the  widow 
of  a  younger  brother,  traitors,  spies,  and  war  captives  taken 
with  arms  in  their  hands,  are  killed  and  eaten.  The  last- 
mentioned  are  cut  in  pieces  alive  and  eaten  bit  by  bit  in 
order  to  annihilate  them  in  the  most  shameful  manner.84 
The  Tibetans  and  Chinese  formerly  ate  a1!  who  were 
executed  by  civil  authority.  An  Arab  traveler  of  the  ninth 
century  mentions  a  Chinese  governor  who  rebelled,  and  who 
was  killed  and  eaten.  Modern  cases  of  cannibalism  are 
reported  from  China.  Pith  balls  stained  with  the  blood  of 
decapitated  criminals  are  used  as  medicine  for  consumption. 
Cases  are  also  mentioned  of  Tartar  rulers  who  ordered  the 
flesh  of  traitors  to  be  mixed  with  the  ruler's  own  food  and 
that  of  their  barons.  Tartar  women  begged  for  the  pos- 
session of  a  culprit,  boiled  him  alive,  cut  the  corpse  into 
mince-meat,  and  distributed  it  to  the  whole  army  to  be 
eaten.35 

Out-group  cannibalism.  Against  members  of  an  out- 
group,  e.g.,  amongst  the  Maori,  cannibalism  "was  due  to  a 
desire  for  revenge;  cooking  and  eating  being  the  greatest 
of  insults." 8e  On  Tanna  (New  Hebrides)  to  eat  an  enemy 


THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

was  the  greatest  indignity  to  him,  worse  than  giving  up 
his  corpse  to  dogs  or  swine,  or  mutilating  it.  It  was  believed 
that  strength  was  obtained  by  eating  a  corpse.37  A  negro 
chief  in  Yabunda,  French  Congo,  told  Brunache 38  that  "it 
was  a  very  fine  thing  to  enjoy  the  flesh  of  a  man  whom 
one  has  killed  in  a  battle  or  a  duel."  Martius  attributes  the 
cannibalism  of  the  Miranhas  to  the  enjoyment  of  a  "rare, 
dainty  meal,  which  will  satisfy  their  rude  vanity,  in  some 
cases,  also,  blood  revenge  and  superstition." 3y  Cannibalism 
is  one  in  the  chain  of  causes  which  keeps  this  people  more 
savage  than  their  neighbors,  most  of  whom  have  now 
abandoned  it.  "It  is  one  of  the  most  beastly  of  all  the  beast- 
like  traits  in  the  moral  physiognomy  of  man."  It  is  asserted 
that  cannibalism  has  been  recently  introduced  in  some 
places,  e.g.,  Florida  (Solomon  Islands).  It  is  also  said  that 
on  those  islands  the  coast  people  give  it  up  [they  have  fish], 
but  those  inland  retain  it.  The  notion  probably  prevails 
amongst  all  that  population  that,  by  this  kind  of  food,  mana 
is  obtained,  mana  being  the  name  for  all  power,  talent,  and 
capacity  by  which  success  is  won.40  The  Melanesians  took 
advantage  of  a  crime,  or  alleged  crime,  to  offer  the  culprit 
to  a  spirit,  and  so  get  fighting  mana  for  the  warriors.41  The 
Chames  of  Cochin  China  think  that  the  gall  of  slain  ene- 
mies, mixed  with  brandy,  is  an  excellent  means  to  produce 
war  courage  and  skill.42  The  Chinese  believe  that  the  liver 
is  the  seat  of  life  and  courage.  The  gall  is  the  manifestation 
of  the  soul.  Soldiers  drink  the  gall  of  slain  enemies  to  in- 
crease their  own  vigor  and  courage.43  The  mountain  tribes 
of  Natal  make  a  paste  from  powder  formed  from  parts  of 
ihe  body,  which  the  priests  administer  to  the  youth.41  Some 
South  African  tribes  make  a  broth  of  the  same  kind  of 
powder,  which  must  be  swallowed  only  in  the  prescribed 
manner.  It  "must  be  lapped  up  with  the  hand  and  thrown 
into  the  mouth  .  . .  to  give  the  soldiers  courage,  persever- 
ance, fortitude,  strategy,  patience,  and  wisdom." 45 

Cannibalism  to  cure  disease.  Notions  that  the  parts  of  the 
human  body  will  cure  different  diseases  are  only  variants  of 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  473 

the  notion  of  getting  courage  and  skill  by  eating  the  same. 
Cases  are  recorded  in  which  a  man  gave  parts  of  his  body 
to  be  eaten  by  the  sick  out  of  love  and  devotion.43 

Reversions  to  cannibalism.  When  savage  and  brutal  emo- 
tions are  stirred,  in  higher  civilization,  by  war  and  quarrels^ 
the  cannibalistic  disposition  is  developed  again.  Achilles  told 
Hector  that  he  wished  he  could  eat  him.  Hekuba  expressed 
a  wish  that  she  could  devour  the  liver  of  Achilles.47  In 
1564  the  Turks  executed  Vishnevitzky,  a  brave  Polish  soldier 
who  had  made  them  much  trouble.  They  ate  his  heart.48 
Dozy 49  mentions  a  case  at  Elvira,  in  890,  in  which  women 
cast  themselves  on  the  corpse  of  a  chief  who  had  caused  the 
death  of  their  relatives,  cut  it  in  pieces,  and  ate  it.  The  same 
author  relates80  that  Hind,  the  mother  of  Moavia,  made 
for  herself  a  necklace  and  bracelets  of  the  noses  and  ears 
of  Moslems  killed  at  Ohod,  and  also  that  she  cut  open 
the  corpse  of  an  uncle  of  Mohammed,  tore  out  the  liver,  and 
ate  a  piece  of  it.  It  is  related  of  an  Irish  chief,  of  the  twelfth 
century,  that  when  his  soldiers  brought  to  him  the  head 
of  a  man  he  hated  "he  tore  the  nostrils  and  lips  with  his 
teeth,  in  a  most  savage  and  inhuman  manner."  51 

In  famine.  Reversion  to  cannibalism  under  a  total  lack  of 
other  food  ought  not  to  be  noted.  We  have  some  historical 
cases,  however,  in  which  during  famine  people  became  so 
familiarized  with  cannibalism  that  their  horror  of  it  was 
overcome.  Abdallatif 52  mentions  a  great  famine  in  Egypt  in 
the  year  1200,  due  to  a  failure  of  the  inundation  of  the  Nile. 
Resort  was  had  to  cannibalism  to  escape  death.  At  first  the 
civil  authorities  burned  alive  those  who  were  detected,  being 
moved  by  astonishment  and  horror.  Later  those  sentiments 
were  not  aroused.  "Men  were  seen  to  make  ordinary  meals 
of  human  flesh,  to  use  it  as  a  dainty,  and  to  lay  up  provision 
of  it.  ...  The  usage,  having  been  introduced,  spread  to  all 
the  provinces.  Then  it  ceased  to  cause  surprise.  .  .  .  People 
talked  of  it  as  an  ordinary  and  indifferent  thing.  This  in- 
difference was  due  to  habit  and  familiarity."  This  case 
shows  that  the  horror  of  cannibalism  is  due  to  tradition  ir 


474  TH2    MAKING    OF    MAN 

the  mores.  Diodorus  says  that  the  ancient  Egyptians,  during 
a  famine,  ate  each  other  rather  than  any  animals  which  they 
considered  sacred.63 

Cannibalism  and  ghost  fear.  Human  sacrifice  and  canni- 
balism are  not  necessarily  conjoined.  Often  it  seems  as  if 
they  once  were  so,  but  have  been  separated.64  Whatever  men 
want  ghosts  want.  If  the  former  are  cannibals,  the  latter 
will  be  the  same.  Often  the  notion  is  that  the  gods  eat  the 
souls.  In  this  view,  the  men  eat  the  flesh  of  sacrificed  beasts 
and  sacrifice  the  blood,  in  which  is  the  life  or  soul,  to  the 
gods.  This  the  Jews  did.  They  also  burned  the  kidneys,  the 
fat  of  the  kidneys,  and  the  liver,  which  they  thought  to  be 
the  seat  of  life.  These  they  might  not  eat.56  When  men 
change,  the  gods  do  not.  Hence  the  rites  of  human  sacrifice 
and  cannibalism  continue  in  religion  long  after  they  dis- 
appear from  the  mores,  in  spite  of  loathing.  Loathing  is  a 
part  of  the  sacrifice.63  The  self-control  and  self-subjugation 
enter  into  the  sacrament.  All  who  participate,  in  religion,  in 
an  act  which  gravely  affects  the  imagination  as  horrible  and 
revolting  enter  into  a  communion  with  each  other.  Every 
one  who  desires  to  participate  in  the  good  to  be  obtained 
must  share  in  the  act.  As  we  have  seen  above,  all  must  par- 
ticipate that  none  may  be  in  a  position  to  reproach  the  rest. 
Under  this  view,  the  cannibal  food  is  reduced  to  a  crumb, 
or  to  a  drop  of  blood,  which  may  be  mixed  with  other  food. 
Still  later,  the  cannibal  food  is  only  represented,  e.g.,  by 
cakes  in  the  human  form,  etc.  In  the  Middle  Ages  the 
popular  imagination  saw  a  human  body  in  the  host,  and 
conjured  up  operations  on  the  host  which  were  attributed 
to  sorcerers  and  Jews,  which  would  only  be  applicable  to  a 
human  body.  Then  the  New  Testament  language  about 
the  body  and  blood  of  Christ  took  on  a  realistic  sense  which 
was  cannibalistic. 

Cannibalism,  sorcery,  and  human  sacrifice.  Among  the 
West  African  tribes  sacrificial  and  ceremonial  cannibalism 
in  fetich  affairs  is  almost  universal.57  Serpa  Pinto68  men- 
tions a  frequent  feast  of  the  chiefs  of  the  Bihe,  for  which 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  475 

a  man  and  four  women  of  specified  occupations  are  re- 
quired. The  corpses  are  both  washed  and  boiled  with  the 
flesh  of  an  ox.  Everything  at  the  feast  must  be  marked 
with  human  blood.  Cannibalism,  in  connection  with  re- 
ligious festivals  and  human   sacrifice,  was  extravagantly 
developed  in  Mexico,  Central  America,  and  British  Colum- 
bia. The  rites  show  that  the  human  sacrifice  was  sacra- 
mental and  vicarious.  In  one  case  the  prayer  of  the  person 
who  owned  the  sacrifice  is  given.  It  is  a  prayer  for  success 
and  prosperity.  Flesh  was  also  bitten  from  the  arm  of  a 
living  person  and  eaten.  A  religious  idea  was  cultivated 
into  a  mania  and  the  taste  for  human  flesh  was  developed.59 
Here  also  we  find  the  usage  that  shamans  ate  the  flesh  of 
corpses,  in  connection  with  fasting  and  solitude,  as  means 
of  professional  stimulation.60  Preuss  emphasizes  the  large 
element  of  sorcery  in  the  eating  of  parts  of  a  human  sac- 
rifice, as  practiced  in  Mexico.61  The  combination  of  sorcery, 
religious  ritual,  and  cannibalism  deserves  very  careful  atten- 
tion. The  rites  of  the  festival  were  cases  of  dramatic  sorcery. 
At  the  annual  festival  of  the  god  of  war  an  image  of  the 
god  was  made  of  grain,  seeds,  and  vegetables,  kneaded  with 
the  blood  of  boys  sacrificed  for  the  purpose.  This  image 
was  broken  into  crumbs  and  eaten  by  males  only,  "after 
the  manner  of  our  communion." 62  The  Peruvians  ate  sac- 
rificial cakes  kneaded  with  the  blood  of  human  victims,  "as 
a  mark  of  alliance  with  the  Inca." C3  In  Guatemala  organs 
of  a  slain  war  captive  were  given  to  an  old  prophetess  to 
be  eaten.  She  was  then  asked  to  pray  to  the  idol  which  she 
served  to  give  them  many  captives.*4  Human  sacrifices  and 
sacramental  cannibalism  exist  amongst  the  Bella-coola  In- 
dians in  northwestern  British  America.  Children  of  the  poor 
are  bought  from  their  parents  to  be  made  sacrifices.  The 
blood  is  drunk  and  the  flesh  is  eaten  raw.  The  souls  of  the 
sacrificed  go  to  live  in  the  sun  and  become  birds.  When  the 
English  government  tried  to  stop  these  sacrifices  the  priests 
dug  up  corpses  and  ate  them.  Several  were  thus  poisoned.35 
Cult  and  cannibalism.  The  cases  which  have  been  cited 


476  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

show  how  cult  kept  up  cannibalism,  if  no  beast  was  sub- 
stituted. Also,  a  great  number  of  uses  of  blood  and  super- 
stitions about  blood  appear  to  be  survivals  of  cannibalism 
or  deductions  from  it.  The  same  may  be  said  of  holiday 
cakes  of  special  shapes,  made  by  peasants,  which  have  long 
lost  all  known  sense.  In  one  part  of  France  the  last  of  the 
harvest  which  is  brought  in  is  made  into  a  loaf  in  human 
shape,  supposed  to  represent  the  spirit  of  corn  or  of  fertility. 
It  is  broken  up  and  distributed  amongst  all  the  villagers, 
who  eat  it.30 

A  Mongolian  lama  reported  of  a  tribe,  the  Lhopa  of 
Sikkim  or  Bhutan,  that  they  kill  and  eat  the  bride's  mother 
at  a  wedding,  if  they  can  catch  no  wild  man.57 

A  burglar  in  West  Prussia,  in  1865,  killed  a  maid-servant 
and  cut  flesh  from  her  body  out  of  which  to  make  a  candle 
for  use  in  later  acts  of  theft.  He  was  caught  while  commit- 
ting another  burglary.  He  confessed  that  he  ate  a  part  of  the 
corpse  of  his  first-mentioned  victim  "in  order  to  appease 
his  conscience."  °'8 

Food  taboos.  It  is  most  probable  that  dislike  to  eat  the 
human  body  was  a  product  of  custom,  and  grew  in  the 
mores  after  other  foods  became  available  in  abundance.  Un- 
usual foods  now  cost  us  an  effort.  Frogs'  legs,  for  instance, 
repel  most  people  at  first.  We  eat  what  we  learned  from 
our  parents  to  eat,  and  other  foods  are  adopted  by  "acquired 
taste."  Light  is  thrown  on  the  degree  to  which  all  food 
preferences  and  taboos  are  a  part  of  the  mores  by  a  com- 
parison of  some  cases  of  food  taboos.  Porphyrius,  a  Christian 
of  Tyre,  who  lived  in  the  second  half  of  the  second  century 
of  the  Christian  era,  says  that  a  Phoenician  or  an  Egyptian 
would  sooner  eat  man's  flesh  than  cow's  flesh.™  A  Jew 
would  not  eat  swine's  flesh.  A  Zoroastrian  could  not  con- 
ceive it  possible  that  any  one  could  eat  dog's  flesh.  We  do 
not  cat  dog's  flesh,  probably  for  the  same  reason  that  we 
do  not  eat  cat's  or  horse's,  because  the  flesh  is  tough  or 
insipid  and  we  can  get  better,  but  some  North  American 
Indians  thought  dog's  flesh  the  very  best  food.  The  Ban- 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  477 

ziris,  in  the  French  Congo,  reserved  dog's  flesh  for  men, 
and  they  surround  meals  of  it  with  a  solemn  ritual.  A  man 
must  not  touch  his  wife  with  his  finger  for  a  day  after 
such  a  feast.70  The  inhabitants  of  Ponape  will  eat  no  eels, 
which  "they  hold  in  the  greatest  horror."  The  word  used 
by  them  for  eel  means  "the  dreadful  one."  71  Dyaks  eat 
snakes,  but  reject  eels.72  Some  Melanesians  will  not  eat  eels 
because  they  think  that  there  are  ghosts  in  them.73  South 
African  Bantus  abominate  fish.74  Some  Canary  Islanders 
eat  no  fish.70  Tasmanians  would  rather  starve  than  eat 
fish.70  The  Somali  will  eat  no  fish,  considering  it  disgraceful 
to  do  so.77  They  also  reject  game  and  birds.78  These  people 
who  reject  eels  and  fish  renounce  a  food  supply  which  ia 
abundant  in  their  habitat. 

Food  taboos  in  ethnography.  Some  Micronesians  eat  no 
fowl.79  Wild  Veddahs  reject  fowl.80  Tuaregs  eat  no  fish, 
birds,  or  eggs.81  In  eastern  Africa  many  tribes  loathe  eggs 
and  fowl  as  food.  They  are  as  much  disgusted  to  see  a  white 
man  eat  eggs  as  a  white  man  is  to  see  savages  eat  offal82 
Some  Australians  will  not  eat  pork.83  Nagas  and  their  neigh- 
bors think  roast  dog  a  great  delicacy.  They  will  eat  anything, 
even  an  elephant  which  has  been  three  days  buried,  but 
they  abominate  milk,  and  find  the  smell  of  tinned  lobster 
too  strong.84  Negroes  in  the  French  Congo  have  a  "per- 
fect horror  of  the  idea  of  drinking  milk." 85 

Expiation  for  taking  life.  The  most  primitive  notion  we 
can  find  as  to  taking  life  is  that  it  is  wrong  to  kill  any 
living  thing  except  as  a  sacrifice  to  some  superior  power. 
This  dread  of  destroying  life,  as  if  it  was  the  assumption 
of  a  divine  prerogative  to  do  so,  gives  a  background  for  all 
the  usages  with  regard  to  sacrifice  and  food.  "In  old  Israel 
all  slaughter  was  sacrifice,  and  a  man  could  never  eat  beef 
or  mutton  except  as  a  religious  act."  Amongst  the  Arabs, 
"even  in  modern  times,  when  a  sheep  or  camel  is  slain  in 
honor  of  a  guest,  the  good  old  custom  is  that  the  host  keeps 
open  house  for  all  his  neighbors." 80  In  modern  Hindustan 
food  which  is  ordinarily  tabooed  may  be  eaten  if  it  has  been 


47^  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

killed  in  offering  to  a  god.  Therefore  an  image  of  the  god 
is  set  up  in  the  butcher's  shop.  All  the  animals  are  slaugh- 
tered nominally  as  an  offering  to  it.  This  raises  the  taboo, 
and  the  meat  is  bought  and  eaten  without  scruple.87  Thus 
it  is  that  the  taboo  on  cannibalism  may  be  raised  by  religion 
or  that  cannibalism  may  be  made  a  duty  by  religion. 
Amongst  the  ancient  Semites  some  animals  were  under  a 
food  taboo  for  a  reason  which  has  two  aspects  at  the  same 
time:  they  were  both  offensive  (ritually  unclean)  and  sacred. 
What  is  holy  and  what  is  loathsome  are  in  like  manner 
set  aside.  The  Jews  said  that  the  Holy  Scriptures  rendered 
him  who  handled  them  unclean.  Holy  and  unclean  have  a 
common  element  opposed  to  profane.  In  the  case  of  both 
there  is  devotion  or  consecration  to  a  higher  power.  If  it 
is  a  good  power,  the  thing  is  holy;  if  a  bad  power,  it  is  un- 
clean. He  who  touches  either  falls  under  a  taboo,  and  needs 
purification.88  The  tabooed  things  could  only  be  eaten  sac- 
rificially  and  sacramentally,  i.e.,  as  disgusting  and  unusual 
they  had  greater  sacrificial  force.89  This  idea  is  to  be  traced 
in  all  ascetic  usages,  and  in  many  medieval  developments 
of  religious  usages  which  introduced  repulsive  elements,  to 
heighten  the  self-discipline  of  conformity.  In  the  Caroline 
Islands  turtles  are  sacred  to  the  gods  and  are  eaten  only 
in  illness  or  as  sacrifices.90 

Philosophy  of  cannibalism.  If  cannibalism  began  in  the 
interest  of  the  food  supply,  especially  of  meat,  the  wide  rami- 
fications of  its  relations  are  easily  understood.  While  men 
were  unable  to  cope  with  the  great  beasts  cannibalism  was 
a  leading  feature  of  social  life,  around  which  a  great  cluster 
of  interests  centered.  Ideas  were  cultivated  by  it,  and  it 
became  regulative  and  directive  as  to  what  ought  to  be 
done.  The  sentiments  of  kinship  made  it  seem  right  and 
true  that  the  nearest  relatives  should  be  eaten.  Further  de- 
ductions followed,  of  which  the  cases  given  are  illustrations. 
As  to  enemies,  the  contrary  sentiments  found  place  in  con- 
nection with  it.  It  combined  directly  with  ghost  fear.  The 
sacramental  notion  seems  born  of  it.  When  the  chase  was 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  479 

sufficiently  developed  to  give  better  food  the  taboo  on 
human  flesh  seemed  no  more  irrational  than  the  other  food 
taboos  above  mentioned.  Swans  and  peacocks  were  regarded 
as  great  dainties  in  the  Middle  Ages.  We  no  longer  eat 
them.  Snakes  are  said  to  be  good  eating,  but  most  of  us 
would  find  it  hard  to  eat  them.  Yet  why  should  they  be 
more  loathsome  than  frogs  or  eels?  Shipwrecked  people, 
or  besieged  and  famine-stricken  people,  have  overcome  the 
loathing  for  human  flesh  rather  than  die.  Others  have 
died  because  they  could  not  overcome  it  and  have  thus  ren* 
dered  the  strongest  testimony  to  the  power  of  the  mores. 
In  general,  the  cases  show  that  if  men  are  hungry  enough, 
or  angry  enough,  they  may  return  to  cannibalism  now.  Our 
horror  of  cannibalism  is  due  to  a  long  and  broad  tradition, 
broken  only  by  hearsay  of  some  far-distant  and  extremely 
savage  people  who  now  practice  it.  Probably  the  popular 
opinion  about  it  is  that  it  is  wicked.  It  is  not  forbidden  by 
the  rules  of  any  religion,  because  it  had  been  thrown  out 
of  the  mores  before  any  "religion"  was  founded. 

NOTES 

1  See  Andrce,  Anthropophagie;  Steinmctz,  Endo^annibalism,  Mitt.  An* 
throp.  Ges.  in  Wien,  xxvi;  Schatfhausen  in  Archw  fur  Anthrop.,  iv,  p.  245. 
Steinmctz  gives  in  tabular  form  known  cases  of  cannibalism  with  the  mo- 
tives for  it,  p.  25. 

2  Lippcrt,  Kulturgesch.,  ii.  p.  275. 

8  Globus,  xxvi,  p.  45;  Stuhlmann,  Mit  Emin  Pascha,  p.  457;  /.  A.  /.,  xxviii 

P.  39- 

4  Smyth,  Victoria,  i,  p.  xxxviii. 

5  Anst.  Ass.  Adv.  Sci.,  1892,  p.  618. 
8  /.  A.  /.,  xvii,  p.  99. 

7  D war j -land,  p.  345. 

8  Schwcinfurth,  Heart  of  Africa,  ii,  p.  94. 

9  Kcanc,  Ethnology,  p.  265. 
1°  /.  A.  1.,  xxiv,  p.  298. 

11  Globus,  Ixxxv,  p.  229. 

12  Nassau,  Fetishism  in  West  Africa. 
18  Globus,  Ixxii,  p.  120;  Ixxxvii,  p.  237. 

14  Specimen  in  the  Dresden  Museum. 

15  Brasilien,  p.  1249. 

18  Herod.,  i,  p.  216;  iii,  p.  99;  iv,  p.  2* 

17  Ibid.,  iv,  pp.  5,  298. 

18  /.  A.  S.  B.,  ii,  p.  571 


430  THEMAKINGOFMAN 

*9  Prim.  Folk,  P-  249- 

20Rubruck,  Eastern  Parts,  pp.  81,  151. 

21 /.  A.  L,  xxw,  p.  171. 

22  Ibid.,  xvii,  p.  1 86. 

28  Globus,  Ixxxiii,  p.  137. 

24  Martius,  Ethnog.  Bras.,  p.  485. 

25  Southey,  Brazil,  i,  p.  233. 

26  Z////.  /«r  EthnoL,  xxxvi,  p.  293. 

27  Andrcc,  Anthropophagie,  p.  50. 

28  Dawson,  West  Victoria,  p.  67. 

29  Smyth,  Victoria,  i,  p.  245. 

80  Whitmarsh,  The  World's  Rough  Hand,  p.  178. 

81  Globus,  Ixxxvi,  p.  112. 

82  W.  R.  Smith,  Religion  of  the  Semites,  p.  284. 
33  Oliveira  Martins,  Racas  Humanas,  ii,  p.  67. 
84  Wilkcn,  V olkjenktmde ,  pp.  23,  27. 

35  Marco  Polo,  i,  p.  266,  and  Yule's  note,  p.  275. 
86 /.  A.  L,  xix,  p.  1 08. 

37  Austral.  Ass.  Adv.  Set.,  1892,  pp.  649-663. 

38  Cent.  Afr.,p.  108. 

89  Ethnog.  Bras.,  p.  538. 
4%  A.  1.,*,  p.  305. 

41  Codrington,  Melanesians,  p.  134. 

42  Bijdragen  tot.  T.  L.  en  Velyinde,  1895,  p.  342. 

43  Globus,  Ixxxi,  p.  96. 
44 /.  A.  1.,  XX,  p.  1 1 6. 

45  Ibid.,  xxii,  p.  in:  cf.  Isaiah  Ixv.  4. 

46  Intern.  Arch.  f.  EthnoL,  ix,  supp.  37. 
47 Iliad,  xxii,  p.  346;  xxiv,  p.   212. 

48  Evarmtzky,  Zaporoge  Kossac^s  (russ.)>  i»  p.  269. 

49  Mussulm.  d'Espagne,  ii,  p.  226. 

80  Ibid.,  i,  p.  47. 

81  Gomme,  Ethnol.  in  Folklore,  p.  149. 
*2  Relation  de  I'Egyptc,  p.  360. 

83  Diodorus,  i,  p.  84. 

54  Ratzel,  V o\ker\(tinde ,  ii,  p.  124.  Martius,  Ethnog.  Bras.,  p.  129;  Globus, 
Jxxv,  p.  260. 

88  W.  R.  Smith,  Religion  of  the  Semites,  p.  379. 

86  Lippert,  Kulturgesch.,  ii,  p.  292. 

57  Kingsley,  Travels  in  W.  Ajr.,  p.  287. 

88  Como  Eu  Atravassei  Ajr.,  i,  p.  148. 

89  Bancroft,  Native  Races  of  the  Pacific  Coast,  i,  p.  170  (iii,  p.  150);  ii, 
pp.  176,  395,  689,  708;  iii,  p.  413. 

60  Ibid.,  iii,  p.  152. 

61  Globus,  Ixxxvi,  pp.  109,  112. 

62  Bur.  Ethnol.,  ix,  p.  523. 
fl3  Ibid.,  p.  527. 

64  Brinton,  Nagualism,  p.  34. 

66  Mitt.  Berl.  Mus.,  1885,  p.  184, 

•6P.  S.  U.,  xlviii,  p.  411. 

17  Rockhill,  Mongolia  and  Thibet*  p.  144. 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION  4& 

«»P.  5.  M.,  liv,  p.  217. 
59D^  Abstinentia,  ii,  p.  n. 
TO  Brunache,  Cent.  Afr.,  p.  69. 

71  Christian,  Caroline  hi.,  p.  73- 

72  Perelacr,  Dyak,  p.  27. 

73  Codrington,  Uelanesians,  p.  177. 
7*Fntsch,  Etngeb.  Sudafr.,  p.  107. 
75  N.  S.  Amer.  Anthrop.,  ii,  p.  454- 
70  Ling  Roth,  Tasmantans,  p.  101. 

77  Paulitschke,  Ethnog.  N.  O.  Afr.,  i,  p.  155. 

78  Hid.,  ii,  p.  27. 

70  Finsch,  Ethnol.  Erjahr.,  iii,  p.  53- 

80  N.  S.  Ethnol.  Soc.,  ii,  p.  3°4- 

81  Duvcyricr,  Totiaregs  de  Nord,  p.  401. 

82  Volkcns,  Ktlunandscharo,  p.  244. 

83  Smyth,  Victoria,  i,  p.  237. 

8*  /.  A.  /.,  xi,  p.  63;  xxii,  p.  245. 

85  Kingslcy,  West.  Afr.  Studies,  p.  451. 

86  W.  R.  Smith,  Religion  of  the  Semites,  pp.  1421  283. 

87  Wilkins,  Mod.  Hinduism,  p.  168. 

88Boussct,  Rchg.  des  Judenthttms,  p.  124.  . 

so  W.  R.  Smith,  Religion  of  the  Semites,  p.  290.  Isaiah  Ixv.  4;  Ixvi.  3, 
swine,  dog,  and  mouse. 

90  Kubary,  Karolinen  ArchifeL.  n.  /68, 


IV 
SEXUAL  CUSTOMS  AND  SOCIAL  PRACTICE 


THE  ORIGIN  OF  LOVE* 

By  ROBERT  BRIFFAULT 
SEXUAL  HUNGER   AND  CRUELTY 

IT  has  been  almost  universally  assumed  that  feelings  of 
tenderness  and  affection  are  part  and  parcel  of  the  attraction 
between  the  sexes.  That  attraction  is  commonly  spoken  of 
as  "love,"  and  the  "sentiment  is^Jdentitied  with  the  sexual 
impulse.  Sexual  attraction ,  throughout  jhe  animal  kingdom, 
and  even  in  the  vegetable  kij^dom^isjopsely.  sp_okcrLJ>f 
a"s  a  maliiTestaiio'n  of__lo.YCj  and  love  comes  hence  to  be 
regarded  asTalmost  a  "primordial  quality  of  protoplasm." 
We  say,  quoting  Schiller,  that  life  is  ruled  Jjy.Jiungcr  and 
Love.  Scientific  writers  vie  with  the  poets  in  describing 
Nature  as  pervaded  with  a  hymn  of  love.  The  term  is  even 
extended  to  include  molecular  attractions.  The  apostle  of 
materialism,  Biichner,  adopts  the  language  of  Empedocles, 
who  described  atoms  as  actuated  in  their  attractions  and 
repulsions  by  love  and  hate.  "Just  as  man  and^vvoman  attract 
one  another,"  says  the  German  philosophical  writer,  so 
uxygca  alUacTr"hy'Jfogien,  anJ  iri  loving" ^unioli^'witK'  jt 
forms  jsvater.  Potassium  and  phosphorus  entertain  such  a 
vioIentj>Bl si _o >njfo r^xy gerf tha tfe :  veh  under  water  they  burn, 
tHaTTspunite  themselves  with  the  belovedobject.^  ^It^Js 
love,"  he  says  agam,  "in  theform^orattractjon  wEIch  chajns 
stone  to  stone,  ear  A  to  eartETstartostar,  and  jvhich  hoMs. 
togcttier  the  rpi^hty  edifice  on__which  we^^tand."  Robert^ 
jBurton,  insginng  himscH-froni  Leo  the  Jew,  jisccj  similaT 
language.  *^How  comes^ j_Jodestone^"_  he  says,  "to  draw 
iron.^  the  ^nounTto  covet  showers,  but  for  love?  No~stqckj 

*The  Mothers.  New  York:  The  Macmillan  Co.  Because  of  pressure  for 
space,  it  was  necessary  to  omit  the  voluminous  references*  with  which 
Briffault  documents  his  work.  [Editor.] 

485 


486  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

no  stone  that  has  not  some  feeling  of  love."  The  "primordial 
quality  ofprotoplalrn^  is  thus  extended  tojhe  entire_lli£ 
verse,  and  weTpeak :  of  it  as  moved  by  Jove,  "the  most_ancient 
of  the  j^ds*— T,*amor  chemuove  il  sole  eTaltre  stelle." 

Those  widely  current  modes  of  speech  and  of  thought  are 
founded  on  a  profound  misconception  of  biological  facts. 
The  attraction  between  the  sexes  is  not  primarily  or  gen- 
crally  a^oatc3jwi3rtKc  order  of  feelings  which  we^ denote 
as  "tender  teeling,"  affection,  love.  These  hayejdeveloped 
comparatively  "late  in  the  course  oForganic  evolution,  and 
have  ariscn'in  relation  to  entirely  different  functions.  The 
primitive,  ancTEy  Tar  the  most  prevalent,  association  of  the 
sexual  impulse  is  not  with  love,  but  with  _the  opposite  feel- 
mgiTof  callous  cruelty  and  delight  m  the  infliction  ancLthe 
spectacle~of  pain. 

Neither  love  nor  hatred,  kindness  nor  cruelty  is  connected 
with  the  fundamental  impulses  that  move  living  things  any 
more  than  with  chemical  reactions.  The  pain  and  suffering 
of  another  individual  is  primordially  neither  pleasant  nor 
unpleasant  but  indifferent.  The  trend  of  animal  evolution 
has,  however,  been  to  make  the  spectacle  of  suffering  an 
object  of  pleasant  and  gratifying  feeling.  Animals  are  prey- 
ing beings;  the  perception  of  a  mangled,  bleeding,  or  of  a 
suffering,  weak,  and  helpless  creature  means  to  the  universal 
disposition  of  animal  life  a  prey,  food.  That  the  suffering 
animal  belongs  to  the  same  species,  or  is  a  close  associate, 
makes  no  difference.  All  carnivorous  animals  and  rodents 
arc  cannibalistic^  Lionsjmdjiigers,  wtiTch  furnisR  favorite 
example^  of  mating  among  carnivora,  commonlykjll  an<J 
jcvour  their  mates^Andcrsson^rcscfibcs  how  a  lion,  having 
quarrcIcd^wjtH  a  lioness  over  the  "carcass  ]pF"a  springbok, 
"after  killing  his  wife,  had  coolly  eatenTieT  also,"  and  the 
same  thing  has  been  reported  by  other  observers.  A  female 
leopard  which  had  been  wounded,  but  had  got  away,  was 
found  a  few  days  later  with  her  hind-quarters  half  eaten  by 
her  mate.  Half -grown  tiger  cubst  orphaned  bytheir  mother 
being  killed,  arc jtt^cdjndjgatgn^ 


SEXUAL    CUSTOMS    AND    SOCIAL    PRACTICE      48? 

in  the  Zoological  Gardens  at  New  York,  to  whom  it  was 
desired  to  give  a  temalg^companion,  showed  every  sign  of 
delight  anSextreme  fondness  for  her  while  she  was  safely 
kept  in  an  adjacent  cage  in  order  to  habituate  the  animals 
to  one  another's  company;  the  male  jaguar  purred,  licked 
the  female's  paws,  and  behaved  like  the  most  love-sick  ad 
mirer.  When  at  last  the  partition  between  the  cages  was 
removed  and  the  male  was  united  with  the  object  of  his 
affection,  his  first  act  was  to  seize  her  by  the  throat  and 
kill  her.  The  same  thing  happened  when  a  female  was 
introduced  to  a  grizzly  bear.  The  danger  of  allowing  the 
sexes  to  associate  is  a  commonplace  in  menageries.  Wolves 
commonly  kill  and  eat  their  mates.  Male  mice  have  been 
observed  to  kill  their  females  and  eat  them  for  no  apparent 
reason.  It  is  a  rule  with  herding  animals  that  any  sick  or 
wounded  individual  is  driven  from  the  herd,  or  gored  and 
worried  to  death. 

Sexual  attraction,  sexual  "hunger,"  as  it  has  been  aptly 
called,  is  a  form  of  voracity.  The  object  of  the  male  cell  in 
seeking  conjunction  with  the  female  cell  is  primarily  to 
improve  its  nutrition,  in  the  same  manner,  and  by  virtue 
of  the  same  fundamental  impulse,  as  it  seeks  food.  The 
female  does  not  in  the  primitive  forms  of  life  seek  or  desire 
the  male;  but  with  the  establishment  of  sexual  reproduction 
she  also  required  the  male  as  a  substance  necessary  to  her 
reproductive  growth  and  nutrition,  as  an  object  of  assimi 
lation.  And  in  the  same  manner  as  the  ovum  cell  assimilates 
the  sperm-cell,  so  in  some  forms  of  life,  such  as  the  rotifer* 
and  spiders,  the  female  devours  and  assimilates  the  male. 

With  both  the  male  and  the  female,  "love,"  or  sexual 
attraction,  is  originally  and  preeminently  "sadic";  it  is 
positively  gratified  by  the  infliction  of  pain;  it  is  as  cruel  as 
hunger.  That  is  the  direct,  fundamental,  and  longest  estab- 
lished sentiment  connected  with  the  sexual  impulse.  The 
male  animal  captures,  mauls  and  bites  the  female,  who  in 
turn  uses  her  teeth  and  claws  freely,  and  the  "levers"  issue 
from  the  sexual  combat  bleeding  and  mangled.  Crustaceans 


488  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

usually  lose  a  limb  or  two  in  the  encounter.  All  mammals 
without  exception  use  their  teeth  on  these  occasions.  Pallas 
describes  the  mating  of  camels:  as  soon  as  impregnation  has 
taken  place,  the  female,  with  a  vicious  snarl,  turns  round 
and  attacks  the  male  with  her  teeth,  and  the  latter  is  driven 
away  in  terror.  Renegger  remarks  that  the  sexual  union  of 
a  pair  of  jaguars  must  be  a  formidable  conflict,  for  he 
Eound  the  forest  devastated  and  strewn  with  broken  branches 
over  an  area  of  a  hundred  feet  where  the  fierce  "love- 
making"  had  taken  place.  The  congress  of  the  sexes  is 
assimilated  by  the  impulse  to  hurt,  to  shed  blood,  to  kill, 
to  the  encounter  between  a  beast  of  prey  and  its  victim, 
and  all  distinction  between  the  two  is  not  infrequently  lost. 
It  would  be  more  accurate  to  speak  of  the  sexual  impulse 
as  pervading  nature  with  a  yell  of  cruelty  than  with  a  hymn 
of  love.  The  circumspection  which  is  exhibited  by  many 
animal  females  in  yielding  to  the  male,  the  haste  which  is 
shown  by  most  to  separate  as  soon  as  impregnation  has 
taken  place,  would  appear  to  be  due  in  a  large  measure 
to  the  danger  attending  such  relations  rather  than  to 
"coyness." 

So  fundamental  and  firmly  established  is  the  association 
between  the  sexual  impulse  and  cruelty  that,  as  is  well 
known,  manifestations  of  it  frequently  break  out,  and  are 
perhaps  never  wholly  absent,  in  humanity  itself.  According 
to  M.  d'Enjoy,  the  kiss  has  developed  out  of  the  love-bite. 
In  many  parts  of  Europe  women  are  not  convinced  of  their 
lover's  or  husband's  affection  unless  their  own  bodies  bear 
the  visible  marks  of  it  in  the  form  of  impressions  from 
their  teeth.  Mr.  Savage  Landor  relates  a  little  love-affair 
he  had  with  a  young  Ainu  woman.  As  is  the  custom  with 
those  primitive  peoples  xhe  young  lady  did  most  of  the 
wooing.  "I  would  not  have  mentioned  the  small  episode," 
says  Mr.  Landor,  "if  her  ways  of  flirting  had  not  been  so 
extraordinary  and  funny.  Loving  and  biting  went  together 
with  her.  She  could  not  do  the  one  without  doing  the  other. 
As  we  sat  on  a  stone  in  the  semi-darkness  she  began  by 


SEXUAL    CUSTOMS    AND    SOCIAL    PRACTICE      489 

gently  biting  my  fingers,  without  hurting  me,  as  affectionate 
dogs  often  do  to  their  masters;  she  then  bit  my  arm,  then 
my  shoulder,  and  when  she  had  worked  herself  up  into  a 
passion  she  put  her  arms  round  my  neck  and  bit  my  cheek.'" 
The  young  traveler  had  to  cut  the  affair  short;  he  war. 
bitten  all  over.  Among  the  Migrelians  of  Transcaucasia  tha 
betrothal  of  a  girl  is  sealed  by  her  lover  firmly  biting  her 
breast.  Among  the  ancient  Egyptians  the  word  which  is 
translated  by  Egyptologists  as  "to  kill"  meant  "to  eat."  The 
desire  expressed  by  lovers  to  "eat"  the  object  of  their  affec- 
tion probably  contains  more  sinister  biological  reminiscences 
than  they  are  aware. 

THE   MATING   INSTINCT 

Sentiments  of  tenderness  and  affection  between  the  sexes 
are  not  originally  connected  with  the  sexual  impulse,  but 
with  an  entirely  different  instinct,  the  mating  instinct.  The 
utmost  confusion  has  resulted  from  failing  to  draw  any 
distinction  between  the  two.  They  have  different  origins 
and  fulfill  different  functions.  The  operation  of  the  sexual 
impulse  does  not  demand  anything  beyond  the  performance 
of  the  sexual  act;  mating,  or  association  between  the  sexes, 
is  a  special  adaptation  to  the  reproductive  functions  of  the 
female.  With  the  extension  of  maternal  care  the  female  is 
placed  in  a  position  of  disadvantage  as  regards  self-protec- 
tion, and  the  procuring  of  food.  When  thus  handicapped  it 
becomes  desirable,  and  even  necessary,  that  she  should  ob- 
tain the  cooperation  and  assistance  of  the  male.  The  mating 
instinct,  where  the  female  is  thus  handicapped,  comes  into 
operation  in  both  sexes  during  the  period  that  maternal 
care  is  beneficial.  The  merely  physical,  and  even  cruel,  im- 
pulse leading  to  impregnation  has  received,  in  exact  correla- 
tion to  the  prolongation  of  care  for  the  eggs  and  offspring, 
the  superadded  element  of  a  transferred  maternal  tenderness 
leading  to  the  association  of  the  sexes  during  3.  longer  or 
shorter  period,  to  mating,  instead  of  momentary  congress 
ending  in  impregnation.  That  is  more  particularly  the  case 


490  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

where  the  eggs  are  hatched  by  brooding.  The  cooperation 
of  the  male  while  the  female  is  sitting  on  the  eggs  is  almost 
a  necessity  to  provide  for  her  sustenance  and  protection. 
Among  the  majority  of  nidicolous  birds  the  mating  instinct 
has  accordingly  attained  to  a  degree  of  development  un- 
paralleled in  any  other  class  of  the  animal  kingdom.  The 
mating  instinct  of  birds  is  strictly  confined  to  those  species 
which  hatch  their  eggs  by  prolonged  brooding;  where  no 
brooding  takes  place  there  is  no  mating.  "There  is  no 
necessity  for  birds  to  pair,  in  the  usual  sense  of  the  word, 
when  they  do  not  tend  their  young." 

Among  mammals  the  conditions  are  different.  Although 
the  pregnant  and  suckling  female  is  at  a  certain  disadvan- 
tage in  the  material  struggle,  she  is  able  to  fulfill  her  func- 
tions unaided.  That  cooperation  which  has  led  to  the  marked 
development  of  the  mating  instinct  among  nidicolous  birds 
is  accordingly  not  conspicuous  among  mammals. 

With  a  large  proportion  of  mammalian  species  the  asso- 
ciation between  the  male  and  the  female  does  not  extend 
beyond  the  primary  purpose  for  which  the  sexes  come 
together — the  fecundation  of  the  female.  After  that  func- 
tion is  fulfilled  there  appears  to  be,  as  a  general  rule,  an 
actual  repulsion  between  the  sexes.  "As  soon  as  pairing  is 
over,"  says  Brehm,  speaking  of  mammals  generally,  "great 
indifference  is  shown  towards  one  another  by  the  sexes." 
Of  antelopes  Mr.  Seton  says:  "The  separation  of  the  sexes 
seems  to  be  due  to  an  instinctive  dislike  of  each  other  as  the 
time  approaches  for  the  young  to  be  born.  It  becomes  yet 
stronger  as  the  hour  draws  near.  At  that  time  each  female 
strives  to  be  utterly  alone."  This  applies  almost  universally 
to  herbivora.  Among  reindeer  "the  prospective  mother  goes 
entirely  alone,  avoiding  her  own  kind  even  as  she  avoids 
man."  During  their  migration  the  cows  and  the  bulls  of 
the  American  reindeer  keep  in  separate  herds.  With  the 
elk,  and  in  fact  all  the  deer  and  antelope  tribe,  the  same 
rule  obtains.  Among  buffaloes  as  September  wanes  the 
males  lose  interest  in  their  partners,  the  clan  becomes  divided. 


SEXUAL    CUSTOMS    AND    SOCIAL    PRACTICE      49! 

the  males  in  one  herd  and  the  females  in  another.  Their 
lives  go  on  as  before,  but  they  meet  and  pass  without  mix- 
ing. Among  bats  the  sexes  live  entirely  separate;  the  males 
are  driven  off  after  sexual  congress,  and  no  male  is  ever 
found  in  a  band  of  females.  Elephant  cows,  after  they  have 
been  impregnated,  likewise  form  bands  from  which  males 
are  driven  off;  the  cow,  which  carries  for  nearly  two  years, 
does  not  receive  the  male  until  eight  or  twelve  months 
after  calving.  "The  male  and  female  elephants,"  observes 
Livingstone,  "are  never  seen  in  one  herd.  The  young  males 
remain  with  their  dams  only  until  they  are  full-grown,  and 
so  constantly  is  the  separation  maintained  that  any  one 
familiar  with  them,  on  seeing  a  picture  with  the  sexes  mixed, 
would  immediately  conclude  that  the  artist  had  made  it 
from  his  imagination  and  not  from  sight."  Seals  and  wal- 
ruses separate  into  male  and  female  herds  after  the  breeding 
season.  The  moose  bull  associates  with  cows  during  two 
months  of  the  year.  The  wild  boar  consorts  with  the  female 
at  the  breeding  season  only.  Among  squirrels  the  sexes 
often  live  separate.  The  same  thing  has  been  reported  of 
the  monkey,  Prcsbytis  cntellus,  "the  males  live  apart  from 
the  females."  Blyth  noticed  that  in  one  locality  males  only 
were  to  be  found,  in  another  chiefly  females.  With  the 
orang-utan  the  sexes  never  live  together.  In  bands  of  gorillas 
the  sexes  keep  separate,  the  females  and  young  forming  one 
group,  the  males  keeping  to  themselves. 

Among  most  carnivora  cohabitation  of  the  male  with  the 
female  takes  place  for  a  short  time  only  during  the  rutting 
season,  and  in  many  species  there  is  no  cohabitation  at  all. 
Weasels  "continue  together  during  the  mating  season  for  a 
week  or  more,  then  separate  completely."  Bears  do  not  co- 
habit after  sexual  congress;  "no  one  yet  has  found  two 
adult  black  bears  in  one  den;  mother  and  half-grown  cubs 
have  been  taken  together  in  the  same  winter-quarters,  but 
never  two  old  ones."  "I  have  never  seen  the  two. (male  and 
female)  together  at  any  time  of  the  year,"  says  an  experi- 
enced observer  of  the  species;  "they  meet  by  chance  and 


492  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

again  separate."  The  same  is  reported  of  the  Indian,  and  of 
the  polar  bear.  The  jaguar  cohabits  with  the  female  during 
one  month  of  the  year  only;  and  the  cougar  during  a  few 
weeks.  The  leopard  male  and  female  live  entirely  separate. 
The  male  takes  no  share  in  rearing  the  young.  The  pa- 
rental relation  is,  amongst  mammals,  confined  to  that  be- 
tween the  mother  and  her  offspring;  fatherhood  does  not 
exist,  and  no  mammalian  young  looks  to  a  male  for  protec- 
tion or  assistance.  Among  herbivorous  animals  the  male  sees 
the  young  for  the  first  time  when  they  have  reached  a  state  of 
independence.  Among  carnivora  the  female  generally  takes 
great  pains  to  conceal  herself  and  her  brood  from  the  male, 
and  drives  him  off  lest  he  should  eat  the  cubs.  "Some  fathers 
are  considered  models  when  they  refrain  from  doing  bodily 
harm  to  their  offspring,  and  are  especially  admired  if  they 
keep  away  altogether  while  the  young  are  helpless."  The 
lioness,  like  all  other  mammals,  withdraws  from  the  male 
when  she  is  about  to  give  birth.  The  beaver  also  is  said 
to  "drive  away  the  male  from  the  'lodge/  who  would  other- 
wise destroy  the  young."  Even  where  a  fairly  close  associa- 
tion exists  between  the  parents,  the  feeding  of  the  young 
after  they  are  weaned  is  attended  to  entirely  by  the  female. 
The  male  lion  is  not  infrequently  represented  as  bringing 
bis  "kill"  to  the  female  while  she  remains  with  her  cubs. 
But  the  lion  drags  his  kill,  often  for  long  distances,  to  his 
lair,  whether  there  are  cubs  or  not.  The  leopard,  which 
does  not  cohabit  with  the  female,  invariably  does  the  same. 
The  lioness  forages  for  herself  and  for  her  young.  The  male 
does  not  exercise  any  protective  function  either  towards  the 
female  or  towards  the  young.  Some  members  of  the  ox  tribe 
are  said  to  take  an  interest  in  the  young  and  have  been 
known  to  defend  them;  but  this,  if  correct,  is  a  collective, 
not  an  individual  act.  The  almost  universal  rule  among 
animals,  birds  and  mammals,  is  that  the  female  alone  pro- 
tects her  offspring.  In  a  number  of  instances  she  is  the  pro- 
tector not  only  of  her  offspring,  but  also  of  the  male.  Among 
deer  and  antelopes  the  does  watch  over  the  safety  of  the 


SEXUAL    CUSTOMS    AND    SOCIAL    PRACTICE      493 

bucks  and  interpose  themselves  between  them  and  any 
source  of  danger.  This  has  also  been  observed  of  elephants. 
"Many  hunters,  when  they  come  across  a  lion  and  a  lioness 
together,  shoot  the  lioness  first,  on  the  assumption  that  if 
you  kill  the  lion  the  lioness  will  charge  at  once,  whereas 
if  you  shoot  the  lioness  the  lion  will  probably  stand  by,  and, 
before  making  off,  stop  to  smell  the  lioness,  and,  when  he 
has  satisfied  himself  that  there  is  not  much  use  in  staying 
any  longer,  he  may  clear." 

SEXUAL   AND   MATERNAL   LOVE    IN    PRIMITIVE    HUMANITY 

The  mating  instinct  appears  to  play  in  primitive  humanity 
a  scarcely  more  important  part  than  among  mammals  gen- 
erally. Cohabitation  is,  as  will  later  be  shown,  very  transient 
in  the  lower  phases  of  human  culture,  and  the  sexes,  as  a 
rule,  associate  little  with  one  another.  The  bulk  of  testimony 
concerning  the  sentiments  which  obtain  in  those  relation;, 
among  uncultured  peoples  is  decidedly  unfavorable.  For 
example,  it  is  said  of  the  Eskim  >,  that,  "like  all  other  men  in 
the  savage  state,  they  treat  theii  wives  with  great  coolness 
and  nccYxi."1  Love,  in  our  sense  of  the  word,  is  said  to  be 
"•inknown  to  the  North  American  Indians."  "If  you  wish 
to  excite  laughter,"  says  Father  Petitot,  "speak  to  the  Dene 
of  conjugal  affection.  We  have  been  obliged  to  create  the 
sentiment,  and  we  are  now  beginning  to  see  it  appear  little 
by  little."  South  American  Indians  are  said  to  have  no  love 
for  their  wives.  The  Papuans  are  said  to  be  entirely  in- 
different to  their  women's  charms.  In  West  Africa,  it  is 
reported,  "love,  as  understood  by  the  people  of  Europe,  has 
no  existence."  "Not  even  the  appearance  of  affection  exists 
between  husband  and  wife."  "I  have  never  witnessed  any 
display  of  tenderness  betwixt  man  and  wife,"  says  Mr.  Ward 
of  the  Congo  tribes.  In  East  Africa  the  natives  show  "scant 
appearance  of  affection."  "In  all  the  long  years  I  have  been 
in  Africa,"  says  Monteiro,  "I  have  never  seen  a  negro  mani- 
fest  tenderness  to  a  negress.  I  have  never  seen  a*  negro  put 
his  arm  round  a  woman's  waist,  or  give  or  receive  any 


494  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

caress  whatever  that  could  indicate  the  slightest  loving 
regard  or  affection  on  either  side."  In  New  Zealand  the 
Maori  "in  general  appear  to  care  little  for  their  wives.  In 
my  own  experience,"  says  Mr.  Brown,  "I  have  only  seen 
one  instance  where  there  was  any  perceptible  attachment 
between  husband  and  wife.  To  all  appearance  they  behave 
as  if  they  were  not  at  all  related,  and  it  not  infrequently 
happens  they  sleep  in  different  places  before  the  termination 
of  the  first  week  of  marriage." 

Statements  like  the  above  have  been  the  subject  of  a  good 
deal  of  somewhat  futile  controversy,  and  there  are  more 
favorable  reports  of  affection  between  married  people,  par- 
ticularly in  reference  to  societies  where  the  conditions  of  life 
are  easy  a.nd  culture  somewhat  advanced.  But  the  real 
evidence,  which  we  shall  have  an  opportunity  of  viewing, 
that,  namely,  which  is  afforded  by  the  whole  sexual  life  of 
uncultured  peoples  and  the  principles  which  govern  their 
sexual  associations,  makes  it  clear  that  sexual  love  as  we 
conceive  it  is  at  best  rudimentary  in  primitive  humanity. 

While  there  may  be  room  for  ambiguity  or  misunder- 
standing in  regard  to  affection  between  the  sexes  among 
savages,  there  is  none  in  respect  of  the  love  of  primitive 
mothers  for  their  offspring.  With  exceedingly  few  excep- 
tions the  testimonies  on  the  point  are  uniform  and  emphatic. 
In  reference  to  the  same  peoples  who  are  described  as  being 
devoid  of  love  between  man  and  woman,  the  liveliness  of 
maternal  affection  is  constantly  noted.  Thus  among  the 
Eskimo,  the  coldness  of  whose  sex  relations  is  conspicuous, 
maternal  love  is  said  to  be  "lively  and  tender."  "We  are  in- 
ferior to  the  savages,"  remarks  Father  Petitot  in  speaking 
of  them,  "as  regards  the  sentiment  of  maternity."  Reports 
are  very  unfavorable  as  regards  affection  between  the  sexes 
amongst  the  Dene;  but  "maternal  love  is  developed  among 
these  peoples  to  the  point  of  obliterating  every  suggestion 
of  prudence  and  even  every  reasoned  act  of  intelligence." 
Among  the  Ojibwa,  says  the  Ojibwa  Peter  Jones,  "I  have 
scarcely  ever  seen  anything  like  social  intercourse  between 


SEXUAL    CUSTOMS    AND    SOCIAL    PRACTICE      495 

husband  and  wife";  but  the  same  witness  bears  testimony 
to  the  fact  that  "no  mother  can  be  fonder  of  her  children." 
"They  love  their  children,"  says  Father  Theodat,  speaking 
of  the  North  American  Indians  generally,  "more  than  we 
do  ours."  Among  the  Indians  of  Guiana  the  extreme  love 
of  the  mothers  for  their  children  has  been  noted,  while  the 
father  is  said  to  take  little  notice  of  them.  Similar  mani- 
festations of  maternal  tenderness  are  reported  of  the  wild 
tribes  of  Brazil,  among  whom  conjugal  affection  is  not 
apparent.  Among  the  Patagonians  a  child  "is  the  object  of 
the  whole  love  of  its  parents,  who,  if  necessary,  will  submit 
themselves  to  the  greatest  privations  to  satisfy  its  least 
wants  or  exactions."  Their  love  for  their  children  "is  quite 
extravagant;  they  show  such  extreme  compliance  with  re- 
gard to  them  that  whole  tribes  have  been  known  to  leave  a 
district  or  to  remain  there  longer  than  was  advisable  simply 
to  gratify  the  whim  of  a  child."  Among  the  Fuegians  "con 
jugal  affection,"  we  are  told,  "does  not  exist";  but  maternal 
love  is  conspicuously  tender  and  lively. 

The  women  of  the  Orinoco,  when  their  children  are  ail- 
ing, perforate  their  own  tongue  with  a  skewer  and  cover 
the  child's  body  with  their  blood,  believing  that  this  will 
promote  its  recovery.  They  repeat  the  process  daily  until 
the  child  has  recovered  or  is  dead.  Similarly  among  the 
aborigines  of  New  South  Wales  the  mothers  give  their 
blood  to  bring  about  the  recovery  of  t':cir  children  when 
they  are  sick.  Among  the  Omahas  it  was  the  practice  in  war- 
time, when  they  were  overtaken  by  foes,  for  the  women  to 
dig  a  hole  in  the  ground,  and  to  conceal  themselves  there 
with  their  children,  covering  up  the  opening.  It  is  related 
that  a  mother  was  overtaken  by  the  enemy  after  she  had 
placed  her  children  in  the  "cache,"  but  before  she  had  had 
time  to  cover  the  opening;  this  she  did  with  her  body,  pre- 
tending to  be  dead,  and  allowed  herself  to  be  scalped  with- 
out stirring.  During  a  tribal  war  in  Samoa  "a  woman 
allowed  herself  to  be  hacked  from  head  to  foot  bending  over 
her  son  to  save  his  life.  It  is  considered  cowardly  to  kill 


49^  THE    MAKING    OF    MA.N 

a  woman,  or  they  would  have  despatched  her  at  once.  It 
was  the  head  of  her  little  boy  they  wanted,  but  they  did 
not  get  it."  Among  the  Wagogo  of  East  Africa,  mothers 
besought  the  slave  raiders  to  allow  them  to  take  the  place 
of  their  sons.  Bushmen  women  gave  themselves  up  in  like 
manner  to  redeem  their  children.  The  lack  of  affection 
between  men  and  women  among  the  Hottentots  has  fre- 
quently been  referred  to;  but  it  is  related  that  during  a 
famine,  when  food  was  brought  to  them,  the  women  would 
not  touch  it  until  their  children  had  been  fed.  The  same 
thing  has  been  reported  of  the  Aleuts,  of  the  Indians  of  the 
Red  River  Colony,  of  the  Tasmanians.  With  the  natives  of 
Madagascar  "the  idea  of  love  between  husband  and  wife 
is  hardly  thought  of";  accounts  agree  in  representing  the 
relations  between  men  and  women  as  utterly  destitute  of 
sentiment  or  affection.  But  we  are  told  at  the  same  time 
that  "the  love  of  the  parents  for  their  children  is  intense"; 
that  "nothing  can  exceed  the  affection  with  which  the  infant 
is  treated;  the  indulgence  is  more  frequently  carried  to 
excess  than  otherwise."  So  again  among  the  Dayaks  of 
Borneo  the  children  are  spoilt;  their  slightest  whim  is  in- 
dulged in.  The  intensity  of  maternal  affection  in  the  savage 
is  noted  of  the  lowest  races  which  we  know,  such  as  the 
Bushmen,  Fuegians,  the  Seri  Indians,  the  Andaman  negri- 
tos,  the  Veddahs  of  Ceylon,  the  Sakai  of  the  Malaccan 
forests,  the  Ainu,  the  New  Hebrides  Islanders.  To  an  Aus- 
tralian woman  her  child  is  the  object  of  the  most  devoted 
affection;  "There  is  no  bounds  to  the  fondness  and  in- 
dulgence with  which  it  is  treated." 

The  practice  of  infanticide,  which  is  very  widespread 
among  uncultured  races,  appears  to  us  irreconcilable  with 
the  manifestations  of  maternal  instincts  in  primitive  women. 
The  apparent  inconsistency  applies  equally  to  the  maternal 
instincts  of  most  animals;  and  from  what  has  been  already 
noted  it  has  little,  if  any,  significance  as  an  index  of  the 
power  and  reality  of  maternal  affection.  Infanticide  takes 
place,  as  a  rule,  with  the  human  as  with  the  animal  motha, 


SEXUAL    CUSTOMS    AND    SOCIAL    PRACTICE      497 

directly  after  the  birth  of  the  child.  Thus  in  the  Society 
Islands  infanticide,  "if  not  committed  at  the  time  the  in- 
fant enters  the  world,  was  not  perpetrated  at  any  subsequent 
period.  If  the  little  stranger  was,  from  irresolution,  the 
mingled  emotions  that  struggled  for  mastery  in  the  mother's 
bosom,  or  any  other  cause,  suffered  to  live  ten  minutes  or 
half  an  hour,  it  was  safe;  instead  of  a  monster's  grasp  it 
received  a  mother's  caress  and  a  mother's  smile,  and  was 
nursed  with  solicitude  and  tenderness."  The  missionary's 
language  imports,  as  usual,  the  notions  and  sentiments  of 
European  tradition  into  primitive  psychology.  Infanticide 
is  committed  by  primitive  women  without  any  compunc- 
tion or  "struggle"  or  feelings;  but  with  them,  as  with  animal 
mothers,  it  is  the  adoption  of  the  offspring  and  not  the  re- 
lationship, intellectually  viewed,  which  constitutes  mater- 
nity. Death  and  the  sacredness  of  life  are  not  conceived  in 
the  same  manner  in  primitive  as  in  civilized  societies.  The 
killing  of  children,  like  the  killing  of  aged  people,  may 
often  be  done  with  the  most  tender  feelings  and  sentiments 
towards  them.  It  is  certain,  in  any  case,  that  the  practice 
of  infanticide  is  no  indication  of  deficient  maternal  tender- 
ness. Among  the  Patagonians,  whose  extravagant  affection 
for  their  ^children  has  attracted  the  attention  of  every  trav- 
eler, infanticide  is  habitual.  Directly  after  its  birth,  the  fate 
of  each  child  is  considered  and  decided;  if  allowed  to  live, 
it  becomes  at  once  the  object  of  its  parents'  unbounded 
solicitude.  American  squaws  are  said  to  destroy  their  female 
children  in  order  to  spare  them  the  arduous  life  which  their 
mothers  have  to  lead.  The  Arabs  represent  the  extensive 
practice  of  female  infanticide  which  obtained  amongst  them 
as  arising  from  their  love  for  their  daughters,  "the  flesh 
of  their  flesh  and  blood  of  their  blood,"  in  order  to  shield 
them  from  poverty  or  dishonor.  In  the  Cameroons,  during 
the  German  invasion,  the  natives,  who  are  noted  as  devoted 
parents,  killed  most  of  the  new-born,  "in  pity  for  their  suffer- 
ings and  in  the  firm  belief  that  their  spirits  would  return 

tn  »ortV\  oc  csvtn  oe  all  woe  ni*o refill  r>nr<*  mnr<*  "  Australian 


498  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

mothers,  if  one  of  their  children  is  weak  and  sickly,  some- 
times kill  its  infant  brother  or  sister  and  feed  the  survivor 
with  its  flesh  in  order  to  make  it  strong. 

The  maternal  love  of  primitive  women  is  much  fiercer 
and  more  unreasoning  than  that  of  civilized  mothers.  "Their 
affection  is  not  rational,"  observes  Dr.  Todd.  Corporal  pun- 
ishment of  children  is  unthought  of  in  primitive  society. 
"All  the  savage  tribes  of  these  parts,  and  those  of  Brazil, 
as  we  are  assured,"  remarks  Father  La  Jeune,  "cannot  chas- 
tise a  child  or  bear  to  see  one  chastised.  What  trouble  this 
will  cause  us  in  carrying  out  our  intention  of  instructing 
their  young!"  The  Eskimo  do  not  consider  that  white 
people  deserve  to  have  children,  since  they  are  so  heartless 
as  to  strike  them.  Missionaries  are  constantly  in  trouble  on 
that  score.  "It  would  be  well,"  says  one  of  them,  "if  the 
parents  did  not  grow  so  angry  when  their  children  are  now 
and  then  slightly  chastised  for  gross  misdemeanor  by  order 
of  the  missionary;  but  instead  of  bearing  with  patience  such 
wholesome  correction  of  their  sons  and  daughters,  they  take 
great  offense  and  become  enraged,  especially  the  mothers, 
who  will  scream  like  furies;  tear  out  their  hair,  beat  their 
naked  breasts  with  a  stone,  and  lacerate  their  heads  with 
a  piece  of  wood  or  bone  till  the  blood  flows,  as  I  have  fre- 
quently witnessed  on  such  occasions." 

The  maternal  sentiment  is,  then,  very  much  more  primi- 
tive, fundamental  and  stronger  than  the  mating  instinct, 
the  love,  as  we  term  it,  in  the  relations  between  the  sexes. 
The  latter  is  primarily  an  extension  of  the  maternal  instinct. 
The  feelings  of  tenderness  and  affection  of  which  the  off- 
spring is  the  direct  object  have  become  extended  to  the  male 
associate  for  the  biological  utilitarian  purpose  of  enlisting 
his  cooperation  in  the  discharge  of  maternal  functions.  Ma- 
ternal affection  and  not  sexual  attraction  is  the  original 
source  of  love. 

In  mammals  that  extension  of  the  maternal  sentiment 
generally  consists  rather  in  a  tolerance  which  overcomes  the 
primary  self-protective  distrust  and  hostility  of  the  female 


SEXUAL    CUSTOMS    AND    SOCIAL    PRACTICE      499 

towards  the  male  than  in  active  affection.  After  the  birth 
of  the  offspring  that  solicitude  for  a  vicarious  object  reverts 
to  its  natural  channel,  and  the  male  tends  to  become  an 
object  of  repulsion.  In  primitive  woman  the  mating  instinct 
does  not  differ  greatly  from  that  observed  in  mammals. 
The  primitive  mother  is,  apart  from  her  fierce  maternal 
tenderness,  a  wild  enough  creature  with  little  about  her 
of  what  we  reckon  as  feminine  gentleness.  Primitive  women 
commonly  exceed  the  men  in  cruelty.  Their  attitude  towards 
their  mate,  which  at  its  worst  is  what  we  should  term  cynical, 
is  at 'its  best  a  loyalty  such  as  binds  the  members  of  all 
primitive  groups.  It  is  invariably  utilitarian,  and  has  in 
view  those  functions  of  assistance,  protection,  economic 
cooperation  which  are  expected  of  him  in  regard  to  her- 
self and  her  offspring.  The  qualities  which  she  looks  for 
are  those  which  will  render  him  efficient  in  the  discharge 
of  those  functions:  strength,  courage,  endurance,  ability,  in 
short,  the  qualities  that  command  success.  A  contemporary 
authoress,  in  emphasizing  that  character  of  the  mating  in- 
stinct in  modern  woman,  goes  so  far  as  to  defend  the  primi- 
tive practice  of  leaving  the  choice  of  a  husband  entirely  to 
parents,  on  the  ground  that  their  experience  and  judgment 
will  enable  them  to  leave  the  choice  of  their  mate  to  rela- 
tives. These,  brothers,  uncles,  fathers,  and  mothers,  apply 
the  severest  tests  to  prove  the  qualities  of  the  aspirants;  the 
woman  sets  the  highest  store  on  those  tests  of  the  intended 
mate's  economic  value.  That  mercenary  attitude  is  not,  as 
is  commonly  supposed,  a  corruption  of  civilization,  a  prof- 
anation of  love;  it  is,  on  the  contrary,  the  primal  form,  the 
source  of  the  mating  instinct  in  the  female.  The  loyalty  and 
devotion  of  primitive  woman  is  no  less  real  because  her 
choice  has  been  determined  by  deliberate  utilitarian  motives. 
It  is  subservient  to  the  maternal  instinct,  and  eventually 
uses  in  its  interest  the  most  powerful  attraction,  by  trans- 
ferring to  the  male  associate  some  of  the  mothering  tender- 
ness which  becomes  the  tender  constituent  of  her  relation 
to  him.  In  certain  conditions  where  the  pressure  of  life's 


50C  THEMAKINGOFMAN 

necessities  is  less  acute,  and  the  female's  need  for  pro- 
tection less  pressing,  that  mothering  character  of  femi- 
nine tenderness  may  go  so  far  as  to  respond  to  the  appeal  of 
the  weak,  the  suffering,  the  vanquished,  of  the  gentle  and 
effeminate.  But  the  male's  appeal  to  the  female  lies  normally 
and  overwhelmingly  in  his  utilitarian  worth,  a  value  which 
has  reference  not  to  the  sexual  relation,  but  to  economic 
cooperation,  and  grows  therefore  with  the  closeness  and 
stability  of  that  relation. 

The  gradual  admixture  of  tenderness  with  the  mating 
instinct,  its  transformation  into  love,  is  a  process  which  has 
taken  place  in  the  psychological  evolution  of  the  female,  and 
it  appears  probable  that  in  the  human  species  love  was  at 
first  confined  to  woman.  What  sexual  selection  exists  among 
the  lower  races  is  predominantly  exercised  by  the  women. 
In  those  races  where  the  attitude  of  the  men  towards  the 
women  is  one  of  indifference  and  even  brutality,  manifesta- 
tions of  strong  and  genuine  attachment  are  shown  by  the 
women  towards  their  tyrannous  mates.  North  American 
squaws,  notwithstanding  the  coldness  with  which  they  are 
treated,  "are  remarkable  for  their  care  and  attachment  to 
the  men,  continually  watching  over  them  with  utmost  so- 
licitude and  anxiety."  Chippeway  widows  are  truly  incon- 
solable and  pine  with  grief  over  the  loss  of  their  husbands. 
Aleut  women  often  commit  suicide  on  that  account.  Fijian 
women,  who  are  among  the  most  brutally  treated,  insist 
upon  being  killed  on  the  graves  of  their  husbands.  It  is 
highly  probable  that  the  widespread  custom  of  "suttee"  was 
originally  voluntary.  The  numerous  wives  of  an  African 
chief,  whom  he  uses  as  pillows  and  footstools,  vie  for  the 
honor  of  being  so  employed,  and  genuinely  worship  their 
lord.  The  unmistakable  gleam  of  devotion  is  seen  in  their 
eyes  as  they  watch  their  master  and  seek  to  forestall  his 
wishes. 


SEXUAL    CUSTOMS    AND    SOCIAL    PRACTICE      501 
TRANSFERENCE  OF  CHARACTERS  FROM  ONE  SEX  TO  THE  OTHER 

Tender  feelings  are  one  and  all  derivatives  of  the  mater- 
nal instincts  and  products  of  feminine  evolution;  they  have 
developed,  that  is,  in  relation  to  the  reactions  of  the  female 
organism,  and  are  feminine  secondary  characters.  But  char- 
acters developed  in  relation  to  the  functions  of  one  sex  are, 
nevertheless,  transmitted  in  some  form  to  both.  The  cell 
produced  by  the  fusion  of  a  male  and  of  a  female  cell  in- 
herits the  characters  and  dispositions  of  both  parents.  This 
does  not  necessarily  mean  that  those  characters  are  blended 
in  the  corresponding  character  of  the  offspring,  or  even  that 
they  are  reproduced  at  all;  for  a  given  hereditary  disposi- 
tion may  result  in  a  variety  of  structural  reactions,  any  one 
of  which  may  be  incompatible  with  others.  Where  charac- 
ters are  mutually  incompatible,  or  the  disposition  towards 
the  one  is  more  firmly  fixed  in  heredity  than  the  disposi- 
tion towards  the  other,  either  the  character  of  the  male 
parent  or  that  of  the  female  parent  will  result,  the  one  being 
prepotent  over  the  other;  thus  will  be  produced  the  appear- 
ance of  "unit  characters"  which  has  been  interpreted  in 
terms  of  the  speculations  of  Weissmann  on  the  basis  of  the 
conception  of  a  complex  structure  of  "determinants.'*  Simi- 
larly one  character  may  manifest  itself  at  one  period  of  life, 
and  another,  derived  from  the  other  parent,  at  another 
period.  But  the  organism,  whether  male  or  female,  inherits 
equally  dispositions  corresponding  to  all  the  characters, 
physical  and  psychical,  of  both  parents  and  of  their  an- 
cestry. Every  disposition  developed  in  the  race  by  the  males 
is  thus  transmitted  to  the  females,  and  every  disposition  de- 
veloped by  the  females  is  transmitted  to  the  males.  Even  the 
primary  reproductive  organs  of  each  sex  are  in  all  their 
parts  represented  in  the  opposite  sex;  a  rudimentary  uterus 
and  vagina  in  the  male,  a  rudimentary  penis  in  the  female. 
The  males  of  mammalian  species  possess  mammary  glands, 
which* may  even  be  functional;  the  pouches  in  which  mar- 
supial females  carry  their  young  after  birth  are  found,  in  a 


502  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

rudimentary  condition,  in  the  males  also.  By  merely  trans- 
planting some  ovarian  tissue  into  young  castrated  rats 
Steinach  caused  them  to  develop  all  the  characters,  psy- 
chical as  well  as  physical,  of  the  females.  They  developed 
mammae  and  nipples,  their  bones  assumed  the  lighter  struc- 
ture characteristic  of  the  females,  and  their  hair  the  finer 
and  softer  quality  of  the  opposite  sex.  They  developed  "the 
tail  up  reflex"  peculiar  to  the  females,  and  warded  off  the 
males  by  kicking.  "These  feminized  rats  were  followed  by 
males  as  if  they  were  females." 

Thus  it  is  that  in  every  race,  although  the  two  sexes  may 
lead  different  lives  and  both  their  environments  and  their 
reactions  to  those  environments  may  differ  widely,  different 
structures  and  reactions  resulting  in  each  sex,  yet  the  race 
will  combine  the  results  of  evolutions  which  have  taken 
place  in  the  males  and  in  the  females.  "In  vast  numbers  of 
species  the  individuals  of  opposite  sex  are  so  much  alike 
that  it  is  difficult  to  distinguish  them  without  examination 
of  their  genital  organs."  The  two  sexes  differ  in  so  far  only 
as  the  common  racial  characters  are  held  in  abeyance  or 
modified  by  the  functional  characters  of  each  sex.  "The 
secondary  characters  of  each  sex,"  as  Darwin  says,  "lie 
dormant  or  latent  in  the  opposite  sex,  ready  to  be  evolved 
under  peculiar  circumstances."  When  females  cease  to  be 
reproductive  male  characters  usually  make  their  appearance. 
Thus  hens  that  have  ceased  laying  crow  like  a  cock,  develop 
a  comb,  hackles,  spurs,  and  tail-feathers;  pheasants,  par- 
tridges, pea-hens,  and  many  other  female  birds  assume  the 
secondary  male  plumage  of  the  species,  and  a  duck  ten 
years  old  has  been  known  to  put  on  the  perfect  winter  and 
summer  plumage  of  the  drake.  Old  ewes  and  does  grow 
horns  and  antlers,  old  lionesses  manes.  Mares  that  are  old 
or  sterile  frequently  develop  canine  teeth,  which  normally 
are  rudimentary  in  the  female.  Cow  giraffes,  when  old, 
assume  the  darker  coat  which  is  characteristic  of  the  bulls. 
Female  salmon  develop  the  peculiar  hook  or  knob  on  the 
lower  jaw  which  is  distinctive  of  males  at  the  breeding 


SEXUAL    CUSTOMS    AND    SOCIAL    PRACTICE      503 

season.  Women  who  have  passed  the  climacteric,  or  suffer 
from  ovarian  atrophies,  assume  male  characters,  such  as 
changes  in  the  larynx  giving  rise  to  a  deeper  voice,  hair  on 
the  upper  lip  and  chin.  Similar  symptoms  and  often  the 
growth  of  a  dense  beard,  are  produced  by  disease  of  the 
adrenal  glands  in  women,  and  the  development  of  male 
characters  is  arrested  by  administration  of  the  glandular 
substance. 

Many  characters  which  in  some  species  are  sexual  sec- 
ondary characters  are  in  other  species  normal  specific  char- 
acters common  to  both  sexes.  Thus  many  of  the  markings 
and  bright  colors  distinctive  of  male  birds  appear  in  the 
female,  usually  in  a  somewhat  duller  form,  but  sometimes> 
as  in  the  guinea-fowl,  in  identical  form.  The  larynx  has 
probably  developed  as  a  male  sexual  character,  but  it  is 
common  to  both  sexes,  and  has  become  used  by  the  female 
for  the  purpose  of  calling  the  young.  Horns  are  grown  by 
the  females  of  goats,  some  breeds  of  sheep,  and  cattle,  and 
by  the  female  of  the  reindeer,  though  not  usually  by  deer 
and  antelopes. 

So  likewise  many  purely  female  characters  manifest  them- 
selves in  the  males  of  animals.  Darwin  states  that  "with 
the  bees,  the  pollen-collecting  apparatus  is  used  by  the  female 
for  gathering  pollen  for  the  larvae,  yet  in  most  species  it  is 
partially  developed  in  the  males  to  whom  it  is  quite  useless, 
and  it  is  perfectly  developed  in  the  male  of  Bombus,  the 
humble-bee."  The  most  conspicuous  example  is  the  appear- 
ance of  mammary  glands  and  nipples  in  the  male,  which 
in  early  mammalia  are  thought  to  have  been  functional, 
and  which  are  functional  at  birth  even  in  the  human  infant, 
and  are  sometimes  developed  in  the  adult  to  the  extent  of 
being  used  for  suckling.  Steers,  and  even  bulls,  sometimes 
secrete  milk.  In  pigeons  a  peculiar  secretion  developed  from 
fatty  degeneration  of  the  lining  of  the  crop  a  few  weeks 
after  the  hatching  of  the  young  is  used  by  both  sexes  to 
feed  them. 
The  like  holds  true  of  psychical  characters,  the  distinction 


904  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

between  the  two  being  but  a  concession  to  our  forms  of 
thought.  Psychical  reactions  necessarily  differ  in  the  two 
sexes.  The  relations  of  life  present  themselves  in  the  form 
of  entirely  different  values,  and  their  effect  upon  the  com- 
plex of  existing  impulses  and  instincts  varies  according  as 
they  act  upon  the  dispositions  of  the  male  or  upon  those  of 
the  female.  The  former  is  primarily  concerned  with  activi- 
ties directed  to  obtaining  for  the  individual  greater  control 
over  the  conditions  of  active  life  and  with  securing  the  best 
advantages  in  the  competition  for  food  and  favorable  con- 
ditions. The  female's  organism  is  specialized  for  the  pro- 
duction of  offspring,  and  the  impulses  which  are  related  to 
those  racial  interests  predominate  in  her  over  those  which 
have  regard  to  the  securing  of  the  most  advantageous  present 
conditions.  The  forms  which  the  reproductive  impulse  itself 
takes  in  the  two  sexes  are  dissimilar,  and  reactions  and 
feelings  are  differentiated  according  to  the  divergent  func- 
tions and  dispositions  of  the  two  sexes. 

The  psychical  development  of  the  race  thus  takes  place 
along  two  separate  lines.  Two  psychical  evolutions  proceed 
side  by  side,  a  masculine  and  feminine  evolution,  each  giving 
rise  to  different  products,  modifications  of  impulses,  general 
and  specialized  instincts,  affective  values,  and  powers  of 
cognition,  control,  and  action.  Some  of  those  psychical 
products  have  come  into  existence  as  a  result  of  the  reactions 
of  masculine  impulses  and  instincts,  others  as  a  result  of 
the  reactions  of  the  instincts  and  impulses  of  the  female. 
But  here  also,  as  in  the  development  and  transmission  of 
visible  organic  characters,  the  results  of  evolution  in  the 
one  sex  are  transmitted  to  the  other. 

Darwin  mentions  the  instance  of  a  hen  which  had  ceased 
laying  and  had  assumed  the  plumage,  voice,  and  warlike 
disposition  of  the  cock.  When  opposed  to  an  enemy  she 
would  erect  her  hackles  and  show  fight.  "Thus  every  char- 
acter, even  to  the  instinct  and  manner  of  fighting,  must 
have  lain  dormant  in  the  hen  as  long  as  her  ovaria  continued 
to  act."  Capons  take  up  the  brooding  and  nursing  functions 


bEXUAL    CUSTOMS    AND    SOCIAL    PRACTICE      505 

of  the  female.  A  cock  by  being  kept  for  a  time  in  enforced 
solitude  and  darkness  could  be  taught  to  take  charge  of 
chickens.  He  uttered  the  peculiar  cry  and  retained  during 
his  whole  life  the  newly  acquired  (or  rather,  elicited) 
maternal  instinct.  The  sterile  male  hybrids  from  pheasants 
and  fowl  take  delight  in  sitting  on  ejgs,  and  watch  for  the 
hens  to  leave  their  nests  that  they  may  have  an  opportunity 
of  taking  their  place. 

The  development  in  the  male  of  instincts  and  psychical 
modifications  of  female  origin  is  widespread  in  the  animal 
kingdom.  Examples  of  maternal  instincts  in  the  male  are 
found  among  reptiles  and  fishes  whose  parental  instincts 
are  not  in  general  highly  developed.  It  is,  indeed,  a  some- 
what startling  fact  that  the  earliest  manifestations  of  parental 
instincts  and  care,  as  distinguished  from  purely  physio- 
logical provisions,  appear  in  the  lowest  vertebrates,  the  fishes, 
not  in  the  female  but  in  the  male.  "As  a  rule  it  is  the 
male  who  acts  as  guardian  nurse,  the  female  troubling  her- 
self but  little  about  the  fate  of  her  eggs  or  her  offspring." 
Several  male  fishes  carry  the  eggs  in  their  mouth  or  pharynx 
until  they  hatch.  In  a  species  of  sea-horse,  Hippocampus 
guttulatus,  the  male  develops  a  regular  marsupial  pouch  in 
which  it  carries  the  eggs.  In  a  number  of  species  the  male 
fish  builds  a  more  or  less  elaborate  nest  in  which  the 
female  deposits  her  ova.  The  male  stickleback  uses  for  the 
purpose  a  mucous  secretion  which  is  specially  produced  by 
the  kidneys  at  the  rutting  season.  The  Butter-fish,  or 
Gunnel,  rolls  the  mass  of  eggs  into  a  ball  and  coils  himself 
round  them,  the  female  in  this  instance  also  taking  a  share 
in  the  process  of  brooding.  The  male  Lump-sucker  (Cyclop- 
terus  lumpus)  sedulously  guards  the  eggs,  which  are  affixed 
to  rocks  or  piles,  and  the  young  fry,  when  hatched,  attach 
themselves  by  their  suckers  to  the  body  of  their  paternal 
nurse.  The  North  American  Catfish  (Amciurus  nebulosus) 
also  mounts  guard  with  great  solicitude  over  the  eggs,  and 
when  they  are  hatched  "leads  the  young  in  great  schools 
near  the  shore,  seemingly  caring  for  them  as  the  hen  for 


506  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

her  chicks."  It  might  thus  be  said  that  maternal  instincts 
have,  in  the  first  instance,  originated  in  the  male!  The  para- 
dox is  readily  intelligible  when  it  is  borne  in  mind  that  with 
fishes,  except  the  elasmo-branchs  and  teleosteans,  there 
is  no  copulation,  spawn  and  milt  being  shed  in  the  water 
without  sexual  congress.  The  sexual  instincts  of  the  male 
are  accordingly  directed  not  so  much  towards  the  female 
as  towards  the  eggs;  these,  and  not  the  female,  are  the 
excitant  to  their  operation.  It  follows  that  the  male  is  even 
more  disposed  than  the  female  to  take  an  interest  in  the 
eggs,  to  segregate  them  in  his  own  person,  parental  care 
being  here  indistinguishable  from  the  sexual  impulse. 

It  appears  not  improbable  that  those  dispositions  in  primi- 
tive vertebrate  males  have  largely  contributed  to  the  de- 
velopment of  parental  instinct-interest  in  the  care  of  eggs, 
and  consequently  in  the  development  of  the  mating  instinct 
in  the  immediate  successors  of  the  fishes  in  the  vertebrate 
scale.  And,  in  fact,  the  males  of  some  reptiles  and  batra- 
chians  show  the  same  solicitude  directed  towards  the  eggs 
rather  than  towards  the  females.  Thus  the  male  obstetric 
frog  (Alytes  obstetricans)  helps  the  female  to  discharge 
her  eggs,  pushes  its  hind-limbs  in  the  convoluted  mass,  thus 
winding  it  round  its  legs,  and,  after  tending  them  carefully 
for  three  weeks,  betakes  itself  to  the  water  to  hatch  the 
eggs.  In  Rhinoderma  Darwinii,  a  small  Chilian  frog,  a 
purely  male  organ,  the  croaking-ratchet,  is  temporarily  con- 
verted into  a  brood-pouch  in  which  the  eggs  are  carried 
till  hatched. 

In  the  class  of  birds  which  presents  the  most  conspicuous 
development  of  the  mating  instinct  in  the  male,  those 
instincts  are  connected  with  the  eggs  almost  as  much  as  with 
the  female.  The  male,  as  with  fishes,  is  interested  in  the 
protection  of  the  eggs  and  in  their  hatching,  and  the  repro- 
ductive impulse  continues  to  operate  in  relation  to  that  func- 
tion, apart  from  the  purely  sexual  impulse  that  leads  to  con- 
gress; while  on  the  other  hand,  that  mating  instinct  ceases, 


SEXUAL    CUSTOMS    AND    SOCIAL    PRACTICE      gojl 

in  general,  to  operate  as  soon  as  the  brood  has  left  the  nest. 
The  male  bird  often  relieves  the  female  in  brooding.  This 
is  the  rule  among  all  Rasores,  in  several  other  birds,  such 
as  godwits,  the  dotterel,  and  phalaropes.  The  psychology 
of  mating  birds  has  in  all  probability  been  entirely  mis- 
conceived by  interpreting  it  in  terms  of  our  own  sentiments; 
it  is  not  so  much  the  female  which  is  the  object  of  interest 
to  the  male  as  the  eggs.  It  is  noteworthy  that  in  those 
species  in  which  the  male  assumes  female  functions,  the 
female  is  considerably  larger  than  the  male  and  has  a 
brighter  and  handsomer  plumage.  The  most  curious  instance 
is  presented  by  an  Indian  gallinaceous  species,  Turnix  tai- 
goor.  In  this  bird  the  usual  respective  characters  of  male  and 
female  are  almost  completely  reversed;  "the  males  only 
sit  on  eggs,  the  females  meanwhile  calling  and  fighting, 
without  any  care  for  their  obedient  mates.  The  males  and 
the  males  only  tend  their  brood."  While  the  males  are  of 
a  tame  and  mild  disposition,  the  females  are  most  pugna- 
cious, and  it  is  indeed  those  females  and  not  the  males  which 
are  kept  by  the  natives  as  "fighting  cocks."  The  famous 
habit  of  the  cuckoo  which,  as  Gilbert  White  remarked,  "is 
such  a  monstrous  outrage  on  maternal  affection,  one  of  the 
first  dictates  of  nature,  and  such  violence  on  instinct  that, 
had  it  only  been  related  of  a  bird  in  the  Brazils,  or  Peru,  it 
would  never  have  merited  belief,"  illustrates  the  manner  in 
which  the  correlated  instincts  of  each  sex  are  dependent 
upon  combined  inheritance  from  both  sexes.  For  "the  species 
consists  predominantly  of  males.  The  preponderance  is 
probably  as  five  to  one,  though  one  observer  makes  it  five 
times  greater."  So  entirely  identical  are  the  males  and  the 
females  that  they  are  not  to  be  distinguished  by  external 
appearance.  With  such  a  preponderatingly  male  heredity 
it  is  not  surprising  to  find  the  maternal  instincts  atrophied  in 
the  female.  There  is  no  mating;  sexual  relations  are 
"promiscuous,  that  is,  both  polyandrous  and  polygynous." 
As  with  physical  characters,  the  dispositions  inherited  by 
one  sex  from  the  other  can  become  manifested  and  active 


508  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

only  when  not  conflicting  with  the  functional  characteristics 
of  the  sex  which  inherits  them,  and  when  they  perform  a 
useful  function  in  regard  to  the  reproductive  interests  of 
the  race. 

Not  only  does  each  sex  benefit  by  the  products  of  the 
evolution  which  has  taken  place  in  the  opposite  sex — a  uni- 
form level  of  development  being  maintained  in  the  race — 
but  a  further  important  consequence  follows.  Since  in  each 
sex  the  characters  of  the  opposite  sex  are  only  held  in 
abeyance  by  the  functions  peculiar  to  the  sex  of  the  indi- 
vidual, a  mutual  adjustment  takes  place  between  the  sexual 
characters  of  the  two  sexes.  These  characters,  both  physical 
and  psychological,  are  balanced  within  every  organism  of 
cither  sex — organization,  functions,  and  instincts  being  ad- 
justed and  adapted  in  each  to  the  corresponding  characters 
of  the  other  sex.  The  development  of  special  impulses  and 
instincts  in  the  one  sex,  being  transmitted  by  heredity  to 
the  other,  calls  forth  a  corresponding  and  complementary 
adaptation,  in  the  same  manner  as  correlation  of  physio- 
logical functions  takes  place  in  the  individual.  Mutual  ad- 
justment between  the  sexes  in  respect  of  the  common  racial 
interests  is  thus  automatically  established. 

ANTAGONISM  BETWEEN  THE  MATING  AND  THE  SEXUAL  INSTINCT 

No  greater  inducement  could  be  offered  to  the  male  to 
modify  his  sexual  instincts  in  adaption  to  the  mating  instinct 
of  the  female  than  the  latter's  transferred  affection,  for  it  is 
the  equivalent  of  the  maternal  tenderness  and  devotion 
under  the  aegis  of  which  his  development  has  taken  place. 
The  mating  instinct  leading  to  prolonged  association  is 
nevertheless  entirely  foreign  to  his  sexual  instincts.  The  sole 
function  of  the  male  in  regard  to  reproduction  is  primarily 
the  impregnation  of  the  ova,  and  the  instincts  are  limited 
to  fulfilling  that  function.  In  most  teleostean  fishes,  im- 
pregnation does  not  even  necessitate  the  coming  together  of 
the  sexes.  In  the  majority  of  animals  the  contribution  of  the 
male  to  the  reproductive  process  does  not  extend  beyond 


SEXUAL    CUSTOMS    AND    SOCIAL    PRACTICE      50$ 

the  sexual  act.  The  further  functions  of  providing  physio- 
logically and  psychologically  for  the  development  of  the 
offspring  devolve  upon  the  female  alone.  Not  only  is  the 
mating  instinct,  leading  to  prolonged  association  with  the 
female  and  manifesting  itself  in  tender  sentiments  and 
affection,  unrelated  to  any  function  and  instinct  of  the 
male,  but  that  sentiment  is  in  direct  contrast  and  antagonism 
to  the  character  of  his  sexual  impulse.  So  much  so  that  the 
two  orders  of  impulses  remain  even  in  the  higher  forms 
of  their  development  essentially  distinct.  The  sadic  hunger 
of  the  masculine  impulse  can  never  become  entirely  blended 
with  the  mating  affection.  Love  and  lust  must  remain 
antagonistic.  "II  n'y  a  rien  de  si  loin  de  la  volupte  que 
rattendrissement,"  observes  Lamartine.  Although  they  may 
be  directed  towards  the  same  object,  the  two  forms  of 
sexual  attraction  in  the  male,  distinct  as  they  are  in  function 
and  origin,  are  not  only  opposed,  but  essentially  incom- 
patible; they  may  alternate,  but  can  never  completely  blend. 
Love,  tender  feeling,  is  a  common  cause  of  "psychical" 
impotence.  The  high  developments  of  the  transferred  ma- 
ternal instinct  in  the  male,  the  "sublimations"  of  the  sexual 
impulse,  tend  to  obliterate  the  impulse  itself.  It  has  been 
suggested  that  such  transformations  of  the  male  instincts 
are  in  reality  a  manifestation,  or  an  index,  of  diminished 
reproductive  power,  and  that  the  high  development  of 
romantic  love  would  tend  ultimately  towards  the  extinction 
of  the  race.  The  two  instincts,  the  sexual  and  the  mating  . 
instinct,  may  exist  in  the  male  quite  independently  of  one 
another;  and  this,  as  we  shall  have  occasion  to  note,  is 
commonly  the  case  in  primitive  humanity.  The  sexual  im- 
pulse may  have  no  trace  of  affection,  while  on  the  other 
hand,  genuine  and  strong  attachment,  which  quite  com- 
monly results  from  prolonged  association,  may  be  un- 
attended with  any  manifestation  of  sexual  instincts,  such, 
for  instance,  as  jealousy.  It  is  not  uncommon  among  savages 
for  an  old  and  decrepit  wife  to  be  tenderly  loved  and 
treated  with  gentle  affection,  whilst  her  place  ij  taken, 


510  THEMAKINGOFMAN 

sexually,  by  younger  wives.  Throughout  primitive  societies 
the  distinction  between  the  two  functions  and  instincts  is, 
indeed,  much  more  definitely  and  consciously  recognized 
than  in  our  own,  where  sentiments  and  institutions  have 
deliberately  tended  to  obliterate  and  ignore  the  distinction. 
Sexual  relations  do  not,  in  primitive  society,  imply  sexual 
association,  and  sexual  association  is  not  primarily  regarded 
as  a  sexual  relation. 

Those  utilitarian  considerations  which  are  paramount 
with  the  female  have  no  place  in  the  functional  purpose  of 
the  male's  sexual  instincts.  It  is,  of  course,  the  interest  of 
the  male  to  obtain  a  capable  mate;  and  in  primitive  mar- 
riage, as  we  shall  see,  the  capacity  and  ability  of  the 
woman  as  a  worker  even  is  the  chief,  and  often  the  sole, 
consideration  in  determining  the  economic  association.  But 
that  order  of  considerations  is,  with  the  male,  distinct  from 
the  sexual  instinct,  and  not,  as  with  the  female,  an  intrinsic 
part  of  it.  The  economic  motives  of  the  male  have  regard  to 
his  individual  interests,  not  to  those  of  the  offspring;  they 
are  conscious,  not  instinctive  and  subconscious;  they  are 
unconnected  with  the  sexual  impulse,  and  they  do  not  imply, 
or  even  lead  up  to,  tenderness  and  affection  towards  the 
woman.  In  the  latter  those  economic  values  are  the  cause 
and  standard  of  attraction;  in  man  they  are  even  antago- 
nistic to  that  sexual  attraction.  In  the  sexual  relations  of 
man  the  sexual  instinct  itself  is  supreme;  and  when  that 
instinct  becomes  discriminating,  the  discrimination  has 
reference  chiefly  or  solely  to  sexual  values.  These  are  physi- 
cal qualities  of  youth  and  beauty,  which  are,  ultimately, 
expressions  of  the  suitability  of  the  female  for  rearing  off- 
spring of  the  best  type.  Those  moral  qualities,  such  as 
courage,  ability,  character,  which  are  supreme  in  the 
woman's  sexual  choice,  have  no  place  in  the  man's  in  so  far 
as  that  choice  is  purely  sexual.  Hence  the  feminine  taunt 
that  a  man  may  be  attracted  by  a  woman  whom  he  neither 
esteems  nor  respects. 

Since  the  mating  instinct,  or  love,  is  in  the  female 


SEXUAL    CUSTOMS    AND    SOCIAL    PRACTICE      5!! 

founded  on  much  more  direct  biological  needs,  and  is 
much  older  in  the  order  of  development  than  with  the 
male,  it  tends  to  retain  even  in  advanced  stages  of  culture 
its  primitive  character.  That  primitive  character  completely 
fulfills  the  purpose  and  function  of  the  instinct,  and  does 
not  require  to  be  reinforced  and  sustained  by  adventitious 
motives.  In  the  male,  on  the  contrary,  that  transferred 
feminine  instinct,  destitute  of  my  relation  to  purely  mascu- 
line instincts,  is  to  a  very  much  greater  extent  apt  to 
become  an  artificial  product  of  cultural  and  social  devel- 
opment. Hence,  one  of  the  most  important  grounds  for 
the  differences  in  the  sentiment  in  man  and  in  woman;  it 
is  deeper  in  the  latter,  without  being  so  exalted  and  subject 
to  cultural  transfigurations  as  in  man. 

That  cultural  and  social  evolution  is  the  all-important 
factor  in  the  development  of  the  sentiment  in  the  male. 
So  little  does  the  emotional  complex  which  we  speak  of 
as  love  bear  any  resemblance  to  a  primary  and  universal 
impulse  of  life  that  even  a  cursory  consideration  suffices 
to  show  the  greatest  diversities  in  the  forms  of  those 
sentiments  within  the  range  of  familiar  historical  experi- 
ence. It  has  frequently  been  remarked  that  "romantic  love" 
is  profoundly  influenced  by  literature  and  tradition,  an( 
that  no  one  would  be  subject  to  it  in  the  same  form  had 
he  never  read  a  novel  or  seen  a  play.  That  social  and 
cultural  tradition  varies  so  much  that  the  contrast  between 
its  forms  among  the  Greeks,  the  Romans,  or  the  Arabs, 
the  Hindus,  and  the  modern  European  has  thrust  itself 
upon  the  notice  of  the  least  analytical  psychology.  Romantic 
love  is  by  many  regarded  as  a  product  of  the  Middle  Ages 
and  Renaissance,  and  as  having  been  previously  unknown. 
Early  Victorian  love  is  noticed  to  be  not  the  same  thing 
as  twentieth-century  love.  The  Italian's  or  the  Spaniard's 
notions  and  sentiments  of  sexual  love  differ  considerably 
from  those  of  the  Russian,  the  Norwegian,  or  the  English- 
man. If,  then,  the  sentiment  can  assume  so  many  different 
forms  and  variations  within  that  narrow  range  of  human 


512  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

observation,  and  if  so  many  of  its  features  are  manifestly 
social  products  of  different  types  of  culture,  it  may  be 
gauged  how  uncritical  is  the  proceeding  which  treats  all 
sexual  impulses  and  sentiments,  in  primitive  man,  in  ani- 
mals, as  though  they  were  even  roughly  and  substantially 
identical  with  those  of  cultured  humanity. 

Yet  that  is  what  is  constantly  and  gravely  done.  Sexual 
love  is  spoken  of  as  if  it  were  a  simple  and  irreducible 
emotion  or  impulse,  whereas  it  is  in  reality  the  most 
composite  and  complex  of  sentiments.  As  Herbert  Spencer 
pointed  out,  in  addition  to  the  sexual  impulse  and  mating 
affection,  which  are  quite  distinct,  it  is  made  up  of  an 
almost  boundless  aggregate  of  feelings  and  sentiments. 
Love  of  approbation  and  self-esteem  receive  their  most 
vivid  gratification  in  the  exclusive  choice,  the  "blind"  ad- 
miration and  idealization  of  the  male  by  the  female,  and 
her  devotion  to  his  chosen  person;  hence  love  is  irresistibly 
bred  by  love — "amor  a  nullo  amato  amar  perdona."  To 
those  sentiments  are  added  the  aesthetic  feelings  which 
are  themselves  highly  complex  products  of  culture,  and 
which  not  only  imply  an  "ideal  of  feminine  beauty,"  but 
also  of  charm,  of  character,  of  elegance  and  taste.  Few 
men,  for  instance,  would  have  enough  discrimination  to 
detect,  and  be  attracted  by,  physical  beauty  in  a  woman 
who  was  an  habitual  frump,  or  grotesque,  sluttish,  and 
disgusting  or  ridiculous  in  her  attire.  Admiration  for  the 
imaginative  objectivation  of  all  ideals  of  what  is  deemed 
desirable  is  incorporated,  no  less  than  aesthetic  ideals,  in 
romantic  affection,  the  cultural  results  of  mental  and  moral 
development  thus  forming  part  of  the  sentiment.  Sym- 
pathetic participation,  mostly  imaginary,  in  common  tastes; 
the  release  of  conventions  in  the  freedom  of  intimacy,  the 
gratifications  of  proprietary  feelings  and  of  vanity  must  be 
added.  The  conception  of  some  ideal  of  future  happiness 
thought  of,  perhaps,  as  shaping  the  whole  of  life  is  blended 
with  the  sentiments  that  are  regarded  as  holding  out  the 
promise  of  its  realization.  These  all  enter  into  the  compo- 


SEXUAL    CUSTOMS    AND    SOCIAL    PRACTICE      513 

fition  of  what  we  speak  of  as  "love,"  which,  as  Spencer 
says,  "fuses  into  one  immense  aggregate  most  of  the  ele- 
mentary excitations  of  which  we  are  capable."  So  complex 
and  comprehensive  a  sentiment  may  well  become  a  dominant 
inspiration  of  emotional  life  and  of  art.  The  exaltation 
and  intensity  which  are  imparted  to  its  varied  com- 
ponents are  derived  from  the  strongest  impulse  of  living 
organization.  But  such  a  complexity  is  not  a  biological  char- 
acter of  the  sexual  impulse  in  the  male.  Nothing  could 
be  simpler  than  its  simplicity.  Complexity  results  from 
the  permeation  of  all  other  activities  by  that  impulse.  Every 
aspect  and  product  of  human  cultural  and  mental  evolu- 
tion can  be  directly  or  indirectly  brought  into  relation  with 
the  reproductive  impulse  when  its  operation  is  diverted. 
Social  restrictions  and  cultural  associations  have  diverted 
the  operation  and  diffused  the  energy  of  the  sexual  impulse, 
thus  giving  rise  to  highly  complex  emotional  states;  these 
are,  in  that  form,  the  culmination  of  the  long  evolution 
which  has  brought  about  those  associations. 

While  the  sentiments  which,  deriving  originally  from 
the  maternal  instinct,  have  become  associated  with  the 
sexual  impulse  owe  much  to  cultural  and  social  develop- 
ment, modifying  influences  even  more  important  have 
taken  place  in  the  opposite  direction.  Just  as  the  trans- 
ferred affection  of  the  female  for  the  male  is  a  direct 
derivative  of  maternal  love,  so  likewise  all  feelings  of  a 
tender,  compassionate,  altruistic  character,  which  are  in 
direct  contrast  to  primitive  biological  impulses,  and  while 
almost  entirely  absent  in  animals,  have  become  distinctive 
of  human  psychology,  are  extensions  and  transformations 
of  the  maternal  instinct  and  are  directly  derived  from  it. 
Apart  from  the  relation  between  mother  and  offspring 
there  is  in  competitive  animality  no  germ  of  that  order 
of  feelings,  and  every  form  which  they  have  assumed  is 
a  derivative  product  of  maternal  love.  Sympathy  for  suf- 
fering, compassion,  the  placating  of  anger  and  hostility, 
benevolence,  generosity,  all  those  sentiments  which  are 


514  THE    MAKING    J>  F    MAN 

termed  "altruistic,"  up  to  their  most  abstract  and  generalized 
developments,  owe  the  mere  possibility  of  their  existence 
to  the  growth  of  mother-love,  and  have  arisen  through  the 
transference  of  those  maternal  instincts  to  the  male.  That 
order  of  sentiments,  being  of  female  origin,  is  developed 
more  spontaneously  and  more  strongly  in  the  female.  The 
sympathetic,  protective,  compassionate,  affectionate  atti- 
tude, transferred  by  the  female  from  the  offspring  to  its 
father,  tends  to  become  still  further  extended.  Woman 
becomes  in  general  tender-hearted,  merciful,  compassionate 
towards  all  males,  towards  females  also  provided  they  are 
not  possible  rivals,  towards  animals  and  all  living  things, 
and  even  towards  plants,  flowers,  inanimate  things,  pos- 
sessions, which  are  handled  gently,  tenderly;  whereas  the 
male  is  disposed  to  be  rough,  to  destroy  and  break.  The 
development  and  extension  of  sentiments  of  that  order 
are  much  more  difficult,  more  unnatural  in  the  male.  They 
are  too  radically  opposed  to  the  character  of  his  instincts 
and  impulses.  In  spite  of  the  accumulated  force  of  heredity 
the  male  child  is  born  cruel;  to  inflict  suffering  on  other 
children,  on  his  brothers  and  sisters,  on  animals,  and  to 
elicit  the  signs  of  pain,  is  his  natural  propensity.  He  is 
destructive,  and  to  destroy  even  his  own  most  valued  pos- 
sessions affords  him  pleasure.  The  operation  of  social  and 
traditional  education  is  required  to  enable  the  dispositions 
to  tenderness  inherited  through  the  female  line  of  evolu- 
tion to  attain  a  high  degree  of  development  in  the  male. 

THE  FILIAL  INSTINCT 

Those  higher  developments  of  maternal  tenderness  are 
for  the  most  part  phenomena  of  advanced  culture,  and 
have  been  comparatively  late  in  making  their  appearance. 
But  the  maternal  instincts  have  from  the  outset  given  rise 
to  even  more  momentous  derivative  products.  The  sexual 
associate  is  not  the  first  in  whom  the  sentiment  of  affection 
is  reflected.  Long  before  the  sexual  impulse  of  the  male 
becomes  transformed  by  such  a  sentiment,  maternal  in- 


SEXUAL    CUSTOMS    AND    SOCIAL    PRACTICE      515 

stincts  produce  an  even  stronger  bond  of  attachment  in 
their  direct  object,  the  offspring  itself.  The  strong  feeling 
of  the  child  for  the  mother,  his  dependence  and  reliance 
on  her  affection,  her  help,  her  protection,  founded  upon 
fundamental  experience  during  the  first  years  of  life,  is  in 
highly  developed  societies  weakened  by  a  number  of  causes 
which  do  not  operate  so  strongly  in  the  primitive  grades 
of  society.  The  primitive  natural  sentiment  remains  much 
stronger  than  the  counteracting  traditional  sentiments  of 
"manliness"  and  independence,  and  the  "mauvaise  honte"  at- 
taching to  the  notion  of  being  tied  to  a  woman's  apron 
strings.  Savages  remain  children.  In  this  they  closely  re- 
semble animals.  "Among  human  beings,"  remarks  Mr. 
Seton,  "the  maternal  feeling  continues  longer  than  the  filial; 
but  in  most  (possibly  all)  of  the  lower  animals  it  is  the  other 
way.  The  young  could  keep  on  indefinitely  deriving  sus- 
tenance and  comfort  from  the  mother,  if  allowed."  That 
continued  dependence  upon  the  mother's  affection  is  a  fea- 
ture of  primitive  psychology. 

"In  the  very  lowest  human  society,"  remarks  Schwein- 
furth,  "there  is  a  bond  which  lasts  for  life  between  mother 
and  child,  although  the  father  may  be  a  stranger  to  it." 
The  Indians  of  California  "scarcely  acknowledge  their 
father,  but  they  preserve  a  longer  attachment  for  their 
mother,  who  has  brought  them  up  with  extreme  tender- 
ness." Filial  and  parental  love  is  "the  strongest  affection 
that  an  Indian  can  experience."  Among  the  Iroquois,  "the 
crime  which  is  regarded  as  most  horrible  and  which  is 
without  example  is  that  a  son  should  be  rebellious  towards 
his  mother.  When  she  becomes  old  he  provides  for  her." 
When  the  Russians  first  settled  in  the  Aleutian  Islands, 
two  of  the  most  intelligent  natives  were  sent  to  St.  Peters* 
burg  and  earned  a  good  deal  of  money  by  exhibiting  on 
the  Neva  their  skill  in  plying  their  canoes.  They  made 
many  friends  and  were  pressed  to  remain;  but  they  an- 
swered that  they  could  not  think  of  staying  longer  away 
from  tMr  old  and  decrepit  mother,  and  must  return  to 


516  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

look  after  her  in  her  old  age.  In  Melanesia,  when  engaging 
a  boat's  crew  for  a  week  or  two,  one  comes  upon  grown 
men  of  forty  who  say  that  they  are  willing  to  join,  but 
must  first  obtain  the  consent  of  their  mother.  One  of  the 
most  conspicuous  traits  of  the  Dayaks  of  northern  Borneo 
is  said  to  be  "their  devotion  to  their  mothers  and  the 
honor  they  pay  them  all  their  lives  from  the  first  moment 
they  can  understand.  Their  father  they  may  like,  or  they 
may  not;  they  recognize  no  duty  towards  him;  but  their 
mother  is  something  holy  to  them,  whatever  she  is  like, 
and  no  one  is  ever  allowed  to  breathe  a  word  against  her." 
The  Japanese  believe  that  the  spirits  of  mothers  look,  from 
the  other  world,  after  the  welfare  of  their  children.  "I 
have  noticed,"  says  M.  Giraud  in  speaking  of  the  natives 
of  the  Ivory  Coast,  "that  children,  even  when  grown 
up  to  manhood,  retain  their  affection  for  their  mothers. 
Their  filial  sentiments  towards  her  are  very  much  more 
developed  than  towards  their  father."  The  same  thing  is 
reported  of  the  Ewe  of  Togoland  and  of  the  Bangala. 
Among  the  Mandingo,  says  Mungo  Park,  "the  maternal 
affection,  neither  suppressed  nor  diverted  by  the  solicitude 
of  civilized  life,  is  everywhere  conspicuous,  and  creates  a 
corresponding  return  of  tenderness.  The  same  sentiment 
I  found  universally  to  prevail,  and  observed  in  all  parts 
of  Africa  that  the  greatest  affront  which  could  be  offered 
to  a  negro  was  to  reflect  on  her  who  gave  him  birth." 
"Strike  me>  but  do  not  curse  my  mother,"  is  a  common 
saying  among  the  Mandingo,  and  also  among  the  Fanti 
and  in  the  Congo.  Lieut.  Costermanns  is  doubtless  right 
in  remarking  that  with  the  Congo  native's  respect  for 
his  mother  is  mixed  up-  a  superstitious  sentiment.  In  most 
countries  the  imprecations  intended  to  be  most  offensive  are 
directed  against  a  man's  mother.  Quarrels  between  children 
among  the  Kru  and  among  the  Kaffirs  are  said  to  arise 
mostly  from  some  child  having  insulted  another's  mother. 
The  most  solemn  oath  among  the  Damaras  and  among 
the  Herero  is  "by  the  tears  of  their  mother."  In  Loango 


SEXUAL    CUSTOMS    AND    SOCIAL    PRACTICE      517 

grown-up  persons  invariably  call,  when  in  pain  or  in  diffi- 
culty, upon  the  name  of  their  mother,  and  the  mother 
always  addresses  her  offspring,  no  matter  how  old,  as 
"my  children."  They  believe  that  even-  after  death  the 
mother  watches  over  her  children  and  protects  them  not 
only  from  evil  men,  but  also  against  the  influences  of 
spirits  and  natural  forces.  "The  strongest  of  all  natural 
ties,"  says  Wilson  of  the  West  African  negroes,  "are  those 
between  the  mother  and  her  children.  Whatever  other 
estimate  we  may  form  of  the  African,  we  may  not  doubt 
his  love  for  his  mother.  Her  name,  whether  dead  or  alive, 
is  always  on  his  lips  and  in  his  heart.  To  her  he  confides 
secrets  which  he  would  reveal  to  no  other  being  on  the 
face  of  the  earth.  He  cares  for  no  one  else  in  time  of 
sickness.  She  alone  must  prepare  his  food,  administer  his 
medicine,  prepare  his  ablutions,  and  spread  his  mat  for 
him.  He  flies  to  her  in  the  hour  of  distress,  for  he  well 
knows,  if  all  the  rest  of  the  world  turn  against  him,  she 
will  be  steadfast  in  her  love,  whether  he  is  right  or  wrong." 
Among  the  Ibo  of  Nigeria,  "the  mother's  love  for  the  child, 
and  vice  versa,  are  perhaps  the  most  remarkable  elements 
in  the  family  relationships.  The  son  may  not  always  treat  his 
mother  kindly — although  not  to  do  so  is  abhorrent  to  the 
Ibo  mind,  and  very  seldom  indeed  is  a  mother  neglected 
or  treated  disrespectfully — but  the  son  never  forgets  his 
mother.  Invariably  she  is  the  first  in  his  affections,  and 
she  is  his  confidante  in  all  serious  affairs  of  life.  In  times 
of  danger  his  mother  is  thought  of  before  even  wife  and 
children.  Wives  are  always  to  be  had;  he  cannot  get  a 
second  mother."  "Throughout  all  the  bush-tribes  in  West 
Africa,"  says  Miss  Kingsley,  "this  deep  affection  is  the 
same;  next  to  the  mother  comes  the  sister."  The  same  deep 
affection  of  children  for  their  mother  is  noted  in  Central 
Africa.  Cameron  in  his  travels  across  Africa  was  once  led 
a  very  considerable  distance  out  of  his  way  by  one  of 
his  guides;  it  turned  out  that  he  had  led  the  expedition 
astray  for  hundreds  of  miles  in  order  to  meet  his  mother 


J>'l8  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

A  negro  guide  of  Mr.  Felkin  resisted  the  temptation  to  do 
the  same;  "I  feared  if  I  saw  my  mother,"  he  said,  "I  should 
want  to  stay  with  her,  and  I  must  not  leave  you."  In  the 
polygamous  African  home  the  husband's  mother  is  gen- 
erally the  first  person  whom  the  traveler  meets;  she  is  the 
real  head  of  the  female  part  of  the  household,  and  the 
"family,"  so  far  as  regards  the  bonds  of  affection,  con- 
sists rather  of  mother  and  son  than  of  husband  and  wives. 
The  women,  on  the  other  hand,  are  more  closely  bound 
to  their  mother  than  to  their  husband;  in  Togoland  "the 
bond  between  mother  and  daughter  is  so  strong  that  both 
remain  bound  to  one  another  until  one  dies.  Never  can 
love  towards  the  husband  displace  in  the  heart  of  a  daugh- 
ter the  love  towards  her  mother.  In  Oriental  as  in 
African  harems  the  mother,  and  not  the  chief  wife,  is 
usually  the  head  of  the  household.  Lord  Cromer,  who 
speaks  rather  severely  of  the  Egyptians,  remarks  upon 
their  affection  towards  their  jnothers;  they  often  repeat 
the  saying  of  the  Kuran;  "Paradise  lies  at  the  feet  of  the 
mother." 

THE  SOCIAL   INSTINCTS 

The  attachment  of  the  young  to  the  mother  differs  con- 
siderably in  its  character  from  maternal  love;  it  consists 
not  so  much  in  a  sentiment  of  tenderness  as  in  a  sense 
•nf  dependence  which  gives  rise  to  panic  fear  when  that 
protection  is  withdrawn  and  to  a  dread  of  solitude.  The 
young  of  carnivorous  animals,  even  when  not  hungry, 
invariably  shriek  and  howl  when  left  alone.  Since  it  thus 
consists  primarily  of  a  sense  of  dependence  the  filial  senti- 
ment is  particularly  ready  to  accept  a  substitute.  It  is  not 
primarily  the  mother  as  such  that  it  requires—it  is  a  pro- 
tector, a  guide,  an  individual  upon  whom  it  can  lean.  All 
young  animals  will  attach  themselves  to  the  first  creature, 
animal  or  human,  that  will  look  after  them.  New-born 
chickens  will  follow  any  moving  object.  When  guided  by 
the  sense  of  sight  alone  "they  seem  to  have  no  more  dis- 


SEXUAL    CUSTOMS    AND    SOCIAL    PRACTICE      519 

position  to  follow  a  hen  than  to  follow  a  duck  or  a  humar, 
being."  By  attending  to  his  chickens  from  birth,  Mr, 
Spalding  completely  ousted  their  mother,  and  the  chickens 
would,  without  any  encouragement,  follow  him  everywhere 
without  taking  the  slightest  notice  of  their  own  bereaved 
parent.  "When  Indians  have  killed  a  cow  buffalo,"  says 
Hennepin,  "the  calf  follows  them  and  licks  their  hands." 
Mr.  Selous  mentions  that  having  shot  a  female  rhinoceros 
which  had  just  dropped  a  calf,  the  latter  at  once  trotted 
behind  its  mother's  slayer  and  quietly  followed  him  to  his 
camp.  The  manner  in  which  the  domestication  of  animals 
first  took  place  will  be  apparent  from  such  instances.  The 
reliance  upon  the  mother  extends  to  all  companions,  to 
all  individuals  who  are  recognized  as  not  being  hostile  or 
dangerous,  and  results  in  a  general  disposition  to  friendli- 
ness and  affection.  "When  wild  animals  become  tame," 
says  Dr.  Chalmers  Mitchell,  "they  are  really  extending  or 
transferring  to  human  beings  the  confidence  and  affection 
they  naturally  give  to  their  mothers,  and  this  view  will 
be  found  to  explain  more  facts  about  tameness  than  any 
other.  Every  creature  that  would  naturally  enjoy  maternal 
care  is  ready  to  transfer  its  devotion  to  other  animals  or  to 
human  beings.  The  capacity  to  be  tamed  is  greatest  in 
those  animals  that  remain  longest  with  their  parents  and 
that  are  most  intimately  associated  with  them." 

Herbivorous  animals  show  scarcely  any  attachment  or 
affection  towards  human  beings.  The  carnivores  become 
extremely  attached  to  their  keepers;  lions  and  tigers  brought 
up  by  Herr  Hagenbcck  showed  excitement  and  joy  when 
seeing  him  again  after  an  interval  of  two  or  three  years. 
Monkeys  are  the  most  affectionate  of  the  lower  animals 
towards  those  who  have  brought  them  up,  and  the  anthro- 
poids most  of  all.  Mr.  R.  B.  Walker,  who  had  a  large  experi- 
ence in  bringing  up  young  gorillas,  states  that  they  "become 
so  much  attached  to  their  keeper  or  attendant  that  a  sepa- 
ration from  him  almost  invariably  causes  these  affectionate 
apes  to  pine  away  and  die." 


J20  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

Members  of  the  same  group,  brothers  and  sisters,  are  natu- 
rally the  first  substitutes  adopted  in  satisfying  the  sentiment 
of  dependence,  and  in  appeasing  the  fear  of  solitude 
created  by  maternal  care.  Those  feelings  are  even  more 
prone  to  assume  the  character  of  sympathy  and  tender  af- 
fection when  directed  towards  companions  of  the  same  age 
than  in  relation  to  the  mother.  An  instinct  of  clannishness 
which  draws  a  sharp  distinction  between  members  of  the 
group,  known  and  familiar  individuals,  and  strangers,  be- 
comes a  marked  feature  of  such  a  group.  Thus  among 
American  bison  "each  small  group  is  of  the  same  strain 
of  blood.  There  is  no  animal  more  'clannish*  than  the  bison. 
The  male  calf  follows  the  mother  until  two  years  old, 
when  he  is  driven  out  of  the  herd,  and  the  parental  tie  is 
entirely  broken.  The  female  calf  fares  better,  as  she  is  per- 
mitted to  stay  with  her  mother's  family  for  life.  In  a  broad 
sense  it  will  be  seen  that  the  small  local  herd  is  a  family,  or 
rather  a  clan.  Their  leader  is  always  an  old  cow,  doubtless 
she  is  the  grandmother  of  many  of  them.  A  pathetic  sight 
was  sometimes  witnessed  when  the  mother  of  one  of  these 
families  was  killed  at  the  first  shot.  They  were  so  devoted 
to  her  they  would  linger  and  wait  until  the  last  one  could 
be  easily  slain."  The  same  group  sentiment  has  been  ob- 
served by  many  as  being  very  marked  in  the  elephant.  "If  by 
any  accident,"  says  Sir  E.  Tennant,  "an  elephant  becomes 
hopelessly  separated  from  his  herd,  he  is  not  permitted  to 
attach  himself  to  any  other.  No  familiarity  or  intimate  asso- 
ciation is  under  any  circumstances  permitted.  To  such  height 
is  this  exclusiveness  carried  that  even  amidst  the  terror  of 
an  elephant  corral,  when  an  individual,  detached  from  his 
own  party  in  the  melee  and  confusion,  has  been  driven 
into  the  enclosure  with  an  unbroken  herd,  I  have  seen  him 
repulsed  in  every  attempt  to  take  refuge  among  them."  In 
those  animals  which  have  in  numbers  been  together  under 
the  influence  of  prolonged  maternal  care,  a  tendency  is  ob- 
servable among  the  young  to  continue  together  after  they 
have  left,  or  been  expelled  from,  the  maternal  group.  This 


SEXUAL    CUSTOMS    AND    SOCIAL    PRACTICE      521, 

is  observed  among  crows,  jackdaws,  starlings,  and  other 
birds,  and  in  some  members  of  the  deer  tribe.  Among  pri* 
mates  the  tendency  is  conspicuous.  Monkeys  are  the  only 
mammals  in  which  a  true  social  instinct  may  be  said  to 
be  developed.  Until  sexual  causes  come  into  operation  all 
young  monkeys  tend  to  remain  associated  in  troops  with  the 
members  of  the  same  brood,  and  in  that  association  arc 
developed  for  the  first  time  in  the  animal  kingdom  senti- 
ments of  sympathy.  Sympathy  is,  as  Romanes  remarked, 
"more  strongly  marked  in  monkeys  than  in  any  other  ani- 
mal, not  even  excepting  the  dog."  He  mentions  striking 
instances  of  that  mutual  interest  which  is  a  conspicuous 
feature  of  all  associations  of  monkeys.  A  sick  monkey  is 
waited  on  with  the  utmost  solicitude  and  anxiety  by  his 
companions,  who  even  forgo  dainties  in  order  to  offer  them 
to  him.  A  monkey  on  board  a  ship  is  said  to  have  extended 
a  rope  overboard  in  order  to  save  a  drowning  companion. 
Those  social  impulses  are  correlated  with  the  prolonged 
association  of  infancy  under  maternal  care. 

The  so-called  instinct  of  sociability  or  of  gregariousness 
is  in  reality  the  effect  of  the  offspring's  dependence  upon 
maternal  protection,  and  consequent  dread  or  dislike  of 
solitude  on  the  part  of  the  dependent  young.  It  has  been 
repeated  since  the  time  of  Aristotle  that  "man  is  a  social 
animal,"  and  the  origin  of  human  society  has  been  set 
down  to  the  operation  of  such  a  supposed  innate  disposi- 
tion to  association.  Modern  psychologists  have  continued 
to  refer  to  such  a  supposed  primary  Instinct,  and  to  regard 
it  as  an  ultimate  fact  of  paramount  importance  in  deter- 
mining human  social  organization.  But  in  doing  so  they 
appear  to  have  merely  taken  for  granted  a  time-honored  as- 
sumption. When  any  attempt  is  made  to  justify  such  an 
estimate,  and  to  describe  the  manifestations  of  the  supposed 
instinct,  it  is  invariably  found  that  other  powerful  motives 
are  at  work.  Mr.  Marshall  is  almost  singular  in  judiciously 
maintaining  that  all  social  instincts  appertain  to  a  much 
more  recent  stratum  than  other  mental  tendencies.  Dr. 


^22  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

Drever  cautiously  observes  that  "it  is  perhaps  a  matter  for 
the  biologist  rather  than  for  the  psychologist  to  decide." 

Biological  facts  give  no  support  to  the  conception.  The 
supposed  "gregarious  instinct"  has,  indeed,  commonly  been 
referred  to  as  the  cause  of  the  associations  or  congregations 
of  animals  in  much  the  same  manner  as  the  properties  of 
opium  are  explained  by  Moliere's  physician  by  a  reference 
to  its  "dormitive  virtue."  It  has  been  supposed  that  such  an 
instinct  is  one  of  the  primary  and  fundamental  impulses  of 
life,  and  the  theory  formulated  by  Buff  on  in  the  eighteenth 
century,  that  the  "forms  of  the  social  instinct"  are  the  chief 
determining  factor  of  the  habits  and  groupings  of  animals, 
persists  in  ir»any  later  biological  writings.  It  is  constantly 
suggested  or  assumed  that  an  instinct  of  sociability  is  an 
innate  impulse  of  all  living  protoplasm,  and  that  living 
organisms  are  naturally  attracted  towards  other  living 
organisms.  But  those  prevalent  assumptions  will  not  stand 
the  test  of  critical  examination.  Primitive  plasmophagous 
organisms  are  attracted  towards  others  by  hunger,  or  by 
the  need  for  conjugation,  which  is  a  form  of  the  same  im- 
pulse. The  congregation  of  microorganisms  is  determined, 
as  is  easily  demonstrated  by  experiment,  not  by  the  presence 
or  absence  of  other  organisms,  but  by  the  most  favorable 
conditions  of  nutrition  and  temperature.  The  broods  of  all 
organisms  naturally  accumulate  in  one  spot  and  are  there- 
fore commonly  found  in  groups.  But  far  from  there  being 
any  indication  of  a  natural  tendency  to  congregate  together, 
the  impulses  of  living  organisms  show,  on  the  contrary,  the 
opposite  tendency.  The  broods  which  are  accumulated  by 
the  reproductive  process  in  the  neighborhood  of  one  spot 
tend  invariably  to  scatter  and  spread  abroad.  The  uniquity 
of  life  is  the  result  of  that  tendency  to  dispersion.  It  is  the 
natural  consequence  of  the  need  for  food  which  is  liable 
to  become  exhausted  where  many  claimants  to  it  congregate, 
and  must  be  sought  farther  afield.  It  is  an  advantage  to 
organisms  to  wander  away  from  the  pressure  of  competition 
to  fresh  fields  and  pastures  new. 


SEXUAL    CUSTOMS    AND    SOCIAL    PRACTICE      523 

That  impulse  of  the  individual  to  wander  is  far  more 
conspicuously  manifested  among  animals,  from  the  lowest  to 
the  highest,  than  any  "gregarious  instinct."  In  the  lower 
animals  the  tendency  is  almost  invariably  to  wander  as 
far  afield  as  possible.  Insects,  among  which  the  most  perfect 
examples,  outside  humanity,  of  social  communities  are 
found,  are  nevertheless  eminently  solitary.  "The  majority 
of  insects,"  says  Mr.  C.  A.  Ealand,  "are  solitary  in  their 
habits;  each  individual,  or  at  most  a  pair  of  individuals,  lives 
its  life  irrespectively  of  the  activities  of  others  of  its  kind." 
If  a  "socal  instinct"  were  an  original,  or  even  a  common 
and  deep-seated,  impulse  of  life,  we  should  expect  to  find 
the  majority  of  animals,  especially  the  higher  and  more 
intelligent,  aggregated  in  communities.  But  that  is  very  far 
from  being  the  case.  On  the  contrary,  the  lower  and  least 
intelligent  birds  and  the  ruminants  are  found  herding  in 
large  numbers,  while  the  more  highly  developed  nesting- 
birds,  the  birds  of  prey,  and  the  carnivores  are  eminently 
solitary.  Even  the  most  typically  herding  animals  have  a 
tendency  to  segregate  thenuelves  and  to  disperse.  Large 
herds  are  in  reality  subdivided  into  smaller  groups  of  closely 
related  animals,  and  it  is  the  familial  instinct,  and  not  an 
undifferentiated  gregarious  instinct,  which  causes  GaltonV 
Damaraox  to  feel  uneasy  when  separated  from  his  group. 
Cattle,  sheep,  horses,  when  promiscuously  herded  together, 
sort  themselves  out  into  separate  groups  according  to  color 
and  varieties,  and  such  groups  will  hold  no  communication 
with  one  another,  and  will  often  segregate  themselves  in 
different  territories.  All  animal  groups,  in  the  natural  state, 
break  up  through  the  operation  of  the  reproductive  in- 
stincts. The  females  of  nearly  all  animals  seek  solitude  after 
impregnation,  and  in  every  species,  even  the  most  gregarious, 
the  males  have  a  tendency  to  wander  in  solitude.  Of  ele- 
phants, Mr.  Sanderson  remarks:  "Much  misconception  exists 
on  the  subject  of  'rogues'  or  solitary  elephants.  The  usually 
accepted  belief  is  that  these  elephants  are  turned  out  of  the 
herds  by  their  companions  at  times  to  roam  by  themselves 


524  THEMAKINGOFMAN 

Sometimes  they  make  those  expeditions  merely  for  the  sake 
of  solitude."  The  same  remark  doubtless  applies  to  many 
of  the  males,  which  in  all  species  are  seen  roaming  by  them- 
selves, or  in  small  groups  of  two  or  three.  In  old  males, 
when  both  the  infantile  and  the  sexual  instincts  have  ceased 
to  operate,  instinctive  tendencies  revert  to  the  more  primi- 
tive impulse  towards  dispersal  and  independence.  Of  bats  it 
is  noted  that,  "though  most  bats  are  gregarious  in  the  sum- 
mer, in  the  winter  they  prefer  solitude  and  quiet.  They  go 
off  singly,  or  at  most  in  twos  or  threes."  Those  animals  which 
mate  in  pairs  separate  after  the  functions  of  reproduction 
are  discharged  as  commonly  as  do  herding  animals;  and  of 
the  animals  nearest  to  man  the  gorilla  has  been  found  alone 
most  as  frequently  as  in  herds,  and  the  orang-utan  has 
scarcely  ever  been  seen  except  alone  or  with  young.  All  mon- 
keys strongly  resent  the  intrusion  of  a  stranger  in  their 
troops,  which  are  close  corporations.  Their  gregarious  in- 
itincts  are  towards  the  groups,  not  towards  the  species. 

The  truth  is  that  there  is  neither  an  intrinsic  social 
instinct  nor  any  instinct  of  solitude;  animal  life  does  not, 
as  an  inherent  impulse,  love  either  society  or  solitude  for  its 
own  sake.  Such  abstract  predilections  may  operate  in  the 
realms  of  culture  and  conceptual  thought,  but  they  have  no 
bearing  on  the  behavior  of  unsophisticated  life.  Other  im- 
pulses, such  as  the  sexual  impulse,  or  the  infantile  depend- 
ence of  offspring,  may  keep  or  bring  animals  together;  or 
they  may,  as  does  the  competition  for  food,  drive  them 
apart;  but  whether  they  come  together  or  seek  segregation 
their  behavior  is  not  the  effect  of  any  "gregarious"  or  "anti- 
gregarious"  disposition,  but  of  a  need  for  the  satisfaction 
of  which  either  aggregation  or  solitude  is  favorable. 

The  social  instinct,  the  love  of  company  which  has  de- 
veloped in  the  very  highest  forms  of  life,  is  a  special  and 
specifically  developed  instinct.  All  familial  feeling,  all 
group-sympathy,  the  essential  foundation,  therefore,  of  a 
social  organization,  is  the  direct  product  of  prolonged  ma- 
ternal care,  and  does  not  exist  apart  from  it.  The  deep,  self- 


SEXUAL    CUSTOMS    AND    SOCIAL    PRACTICE      525 

protective  instincts  of  timidity  and  distrust  forbid,  especially 
in  the  male,  the  extension  of  those  sentiments  beyond  the 
group  of  companions.  In  regard  to  individuals  that  are  not 
members  of  the  family  group,  the  original  instincts  of 
the  cautious,  competitive  animal  retain  their  full  force;  the 
stranger  is  regarded  with  spontaneous  hostility  and  hatred. 

To  man  absolute  solitude  is  abhorrent;  it  is  not  good  for 
man  to  be  alone.  But  that  is  a  very  different  matter  from 
a  "social  instinct."  The  distress  caused  by  solitude  can  usually 
be  remedied  by  the  company  of  an  individual  of  the  opposite 
sex.  The  "social  instinct"  is  here  no  other  than  the  sexual 
instinct.  As  in  animals  that  need  may,  and  commonly  does, 
admit  of  all  sorts  of  substitutes  and  extensions.  In  the  ab- 
sence of  a  congenial  companion  of  the  opposite  sex,  man, 
rather  than  suffer  absolute  isolation,  will  draw  up  even  to 
uncongenial  companions,  or  he  will  value  the  companion* 
ship  of  an  animal,  of  a  dog,  of  a  horse,  or  even,  as  in  the 
legend  of  Bruce,  of  a  spider.  A  stranger  in  an  unknown 
land  will  find  comfort  in  the  silent  companionship  of 
other  human  beings,  though  they  may  take  no  notice  of  him. 
In  all  circumstances  he  will  desire,  above  all,  the  compan- 
ionship, not  only  of  a  mate,  but  of  his  family,  his  children 
friends,  of  all  who  are  dear  to  him. 

Those  feelings  are  the  expression  of  the  familial  sentiment 
arising  out  of  the  operation  of  the  maternal  instincts,  no(: 
of  a  generalized,  indiscriminate  "social  instinct."  Far  from 
there  existing  any  indication  of  such  a  general  social  in- 
stinct in  primitive  humanity,  the  attitude  of  an  uncultured 
human  being  towards  any  individual  who  is  not  a  member 
of  their  own  restricted  social  group  is  one  of  profound  dis- 
trust and  generally  of  active  hostility.  "In  primitive  culture," 
observes  Dr.  Brinton,  "there  is  a  dual  system  of  morals: 
the  one  of  kindness,  love,  help,  and  peace,  applicable  to  the 
members  of  our  own  clan,  tribe,  or  community;  the  other 
of  robbery,  hatred,  enmity,  and  murder,  to  be  practiced 
against  all  the  rest  of  the  world;  and  the  latter  is  regarded 
as  quite  as  much  a  sacred  duty  as  the  former."  Among  all 


526  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

primitive  peoples  small  groups  show  the  strongest  indis- 
position to  fuse  into  larger  ones,  and  the  intrusion  of 
strangers  is  resented.  In  the  Andaman  Islands,  before  the 
arrival  of  Europeans,  the  inhabitants  of  the  small  area  of 
those  islands  were  divided  into  a  number  of  tribelets  which 
had  never  held  any  intercourse  with  one  another.  When  first 
brought  together  they  were  unable  to  converse,  their  lan- 
guages having  during  centuries  of  segregation  diverged 
completely,  although  they  were  members  of  the  same  race. 
The  island  of  Raratonga  was  in  like  manner  inhabited,  be- 
fore the  advent  of  Europeans,  by  tribes  which  had  no  knowl- 
edge of  one  another.  When  the  Veddahs  of  Ceylon  are 
brought  into  contact  with  individuals  belonging  to  another 
tribelet,  which,  maybe,  dwells  only  a  few  miles  away,  they 
stand  in  silent  embarrassment,  refuse  to  speak,  and  scowl 
at  the  strangers  with  a  manifest  disinclination  to  associate 
with  them.  The  attitude  of  the  Fuegians,  who  live  in  small, 
scattered  communities,  towards  members  of  all  other  groups 
is  said  to  be  one  of  strong  hostility.  Between  the  North 
American  tribes  "there  was  no  intermarriage,  no  social 
intercourse,  no  intermingling  of  any  kind,  except  that  of 
mortal  strife."  The  most  salient  trait  of  the  Seri  Indians  is 
their  implacable  hostility  towards  every  human  being, 
Indian  or  white,  who  is  not  a  member  of  their  tribe,  and 
even  each  clan  views  all  others  with  suspicion.  South  Ameri- 
can natives  are  divided  into  innumerable  small  groups  and 
tribelets  who  hate  one  another  mortally.  "The  savages  de- 
test all  who  are  not  of  their  tribe,  and  hunt  the  Indians  of 
a  neighboring  tribe  who  are  at  war  with  their  own,  as  we 
hunt  game."  The  rough  huts  of  the  wild  Cashibo  of  southern 
Peru  are  surrounded  with  pitfalls  and  concealed  spikes.  In 
Australia  it  is  a  rule  that  no  black  fellow  from  one  camp 
may  visit  another  camp  without  being  invited;  a  messenger 
or  visitor  from  one  clan  to  another  must  sit  down  at  some 
distance  from  the  strange  camp  and  wait  until  he  has  been 
examined  by  some  of  the  elders  before  he  is  asked  to  ap- 


SEXUAL    CUSTOMS    AND    SOCIAL    PRACTICE      527 

preach.  "Every  stranger  who  presents  himself  uninvited 
amongst  them  incurs  the  penalty  of  death."  Among  the 
ancient  Britons  no  man  could  approach  or  pass  a  village 
without  giving  warning  of  his  presence  by  blowing  a  horn, 
The  same  precaution  was  observed  by  the  Guatos  of  South 
America,  and  by  the  Maori  of  New  Zealand. 

It  is  not  in  obedience  to  any  generalized  mutual  attraction,, 
to  any  "gregarious"  or  "social   instinct,  that  groups,  whethei 
of  human  beings  or  of  animals,  are  formed  or  maintained. 
Wherever  such  a  group  exists  it  is  the  result  of  specific  needs 
and  instincts,  and  not  of  any  attraction  that  impels  indi- 
viduals to  association  for  its  own  sake.  In  the  higher  forms 
of  animal  life,  what  has  commonly  been  called  the  "social 
instinct"  is  the  direct  outcome  of  the   relation  between 
mother  and  offspring,  and  of  the  reflection  of  the  maternal 
instincts  in  the  relations  of  mutual  dependence  and  sym- 
pathy, between  members  of  the  same  brood  or  brotherhood, 
Darwin,  although  he  appeared  to  share  some  of  the  current 
misconceptions  concerning  so-called  social  instincts,  per 
ceived  that  "the  feeling  of  pleasure  from  society  is  probably 
an  extension  of  the  parental  or  filial  affection,"  and  that 
those  latter  feelings  and  instincts  "lie  at  the  basis  of  social 
affections."  The  material  out  of  which  all  human  society 
had  been  constructed  is  the  bond  of  those  sentiments.  These 
have  undergone  many  extensions  and  transformations,  sen 
timents  of  brotherhood  towards  all  members  of  the  same 
clan,  and,  in  higher  forms  of  culture,  ideal  loyalties,  patriotic 
devotion,  and  religious  altruisms.  Those  sentiments  and 
social  virtues  which  are  necessary  to  the  existence  of  any 
form  of  human  society  have  their  original  root  in  the  feeling 
which  characterizes  the  relation  betweeen  mother  and  off- 
spring.   Dr.   Ferriani,    in   discussing   the   education    and 
reformation  of  youthful  delinquents,  that  is,  of  youths  who 
are  deficient  in  social  sentiment  and  virtues,  remarks  that 
the  most  numerous  and  most  hopeless  cases  are  those  .where 
no  opportunity  has  been  afforded  for  the  development  o' 


528  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

filial  sentiments.  On  the  other  hand,  "I  never  despair,"  he 
says,  "of  youths  who  honor  their  mother."  The  original  of 
all  social  bonds,  the  only  one  which  exists  among  the  higher 
animals  and  in  the  most  primitive  human  groups,  is  that 
created  by  mother  Jove. 


HOMOSEXUAL  LOVE* 

By  EDWARD  WESTERMARCK 

OUR  review  of  the  moral  ideas  concerning  sexual  relations 
has  not  yet  come  to  an  end.  The  gratification  of  the  sexual 
instinct  assumes  forms  which  fall  outside  the  ordinary  pale 
of  nature.  Of  these  there  is  one  which,  on  account  of  the 
r6le  which  it  has  played  in  the  moral  history  of  mankind, 
cannot  be  passed  over  in  silence,  namely,  intercourse  between 
individuals  of  the  same  sex,  what  is  nowadays  commonly 
called  homosexual  love. 

It  is  frequently  met  with  among  the  lower  animals.1  It 
probably  occurs,  at  least  sporadically,  among  every  race  of 
mankind.2  And  among  some  peoples  it  has  assumed  such 
proportions  as  to  form  a  true  national  habit. 

In  America  homosexual  customs  have  been  observed 
among  a  great  number  of  native  tribes.  In  nearly  every  part 
of  the  continent  there  seem  to  have  been,  since  ancient  times, 
men  dressing  themselves  in  the  clothes  and  performing  the 
functions  of  women,  and  living  with  other  men  as  their 
concubines  or  wives.3  Moreover,  between  young  men  who 
are  comrades  in  arms  there  are  liaisons  d'amitie,  which,  ac- 
cording to  Lafitau,  "ne  lassent  aucun  soup^on  de  vice  appa- 
rent, quoiqu'il  y  ait,  ou  qu'il  puisse  y  avoir,  beaucoup  de 
vice  reel."  4 

Homosexual  practices  are,  or  have  been,  very  prominent 
among  the  peoples  in  the  neighborhood  of  Behring  Sea.6 
In  Kadiak  it  was  the  custom  of  the  parent  who  had  a  girl- 
like  son  to  try  to  dress  and  rear  him  as  a  girl,  teaching  him 
only  domestic  duties,  keeping 'him  at  woman's  work,  and 
letting  him  associate  only  with  women  and  girls.  Arriving  at 
the  age  of  ten  or  fifteen  years,  he  was  married  to  some 

*  The  Origin  and  Development  of  the  Moral  Ideas.  London:  Macmilltn 
and  Co. 


53°  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

wealthy  man  and  was  then  called  an  achnuchi^  or  shoopan* 
Dr.  Bogoras  gives  the  following  account  of  a  similar  prac- 
tice prevalent  among  the  Chukchi:  "It  happens  frequently 
that,  under  the  supernatural  influence  of  one  of  their  sha- 
mans, or  priests,  a  Chukchi  lad  at  sixteen  years  of  age  wil! 
suddenly  relinquish  his  sex  and  imagine  himself  to  be  a 
woman.  He  adopts  a  woman's  attire,  lets  his  hair  grow,  and 
devotes  himself  altogether  to  female  occupation.  Further- 
more, this  disowner  of  his  sex  takes  a  husband  into  the  Yurt 
and  does  all  the  work  which  is  usually  incumbent  on  the 
wife  in  most  unnatural  and  voluntary  subjection.  Thus  it 
frequently  happens  in  a  Yurt  that  the  husband  is  a  woman, 
while  the  wife  is  a  man!  These  abnormal  changes  of  sex 
imply  the  most  abject  immorality  in  the  community,  and 
appear  to  be  strongly  encouraged  by  the  shamans  who 
interpret  such  cases  as  an  injunction  of  their  individual 
deity." 

The  change  of  sex  was  usually  accompanied  by  future 
uhamanship;  indeed,  nearly  all  the  shamans  were  former 
delinquents  of  their  sex.7  Among  the  Chukchi  male  sha- 
mans who  are  clothed  in  woman's  attire  and  are  believed 
to  be  transformed  physically  into  women  are  still  quite 
common;  and  traces  of  the  change  of  a  shaman's  sex  into 
that  of  a  woman  may  be  found  among  many  other  Siberian 
tribes.8  In  some  cases  at  least  there  can  be  no  doubt  that 
these  transformations  were  connected  with  homosexual 
practices.  In  his  description  of  the  Koriaks,  Krasheninnikoff 
makes  mention  of  the  fe'yev,  that  is,  men  occupying  the  po- 
sition of  concubines;  and  he  compares  them  with  the  Kam- 
chadale  fye^cuc,  as  he  calls  them,  that  is,  men  transformed 
into  women.  Every  foe'l^cuc,  he  says,  is  regarded  as  a 
magician  and  interpreter  of  dreams;  but  from  his  con- 
fused description  Mr.  Jochelson  thinks  it  may  be  inferred 
that  the  most  important  feature  of  the  institution  of  the 
tye'Itfuc  lay,  not  in  their  shamanistic  power,  but  in  their 
position  with  regard  to  the  satisfaction  of  the  unnatural 
inclinations  of  the  Kamchadales.  The  Itpc'kfuc  wore 


SEXUAL    CUSTOMS    AND    SOCIAL    PRACTICE      531 

women's  clothes,  did  women's  work,  and  were  in  the  posi- 
tion of  wives  or  concubine:,.9 

In  the  Malay  Archipelago  homosexual  love  is  common,10 
though  not  in  all  of  the  islands.11  It  is  widely  spread  among 
the  Bataks  of  Sumatra.12  In  Bali  it  is  practiced  openly,  and 
there  are  persons  who  make  it  a  profession.  The  basir  of 
the  Dyaks  are  men  who  make  their  living  by  witchcraft  and 
debauchery.  They  "are  dressed  as  women,  they  are  made 
use  of  at  idolatrous  feasts  and  for  sodomitic  abominations, 
and  many  of  them  are  formally  married  to  other  men."  13 
Dr.  Haddon  says  that  he  never  heard  of  any  unnatural 
offenses  in  Torres  Straits; 14  but  in  the  Rigo  district  of 
British  New  Guinea  several  instances  of  pederasty  have 
been  met  with,15  and  at  Mowat  in  Daudai  it  is  regularly 
indulged  in.10  Homosexual  love  is  reported  as  common 
among  the  Marshall  Islanders 1T  and  in  Hawaii.18  From 
Tahiti  we  hear  of  a  set  of  men  called  by  the  natives  mahoos, 
who  "assume  the  dress,  attitude,  and  manners,  of  women, 
and  affect  all  the  fantastic  oddities  and  coquetries  of  the 
vainest  of  females.  They  mostly  associate  with  the  women, 
who  court  their  acquaintance.  With  the  manners  of  the 
women,  they  adopt  their  peculiar  employments.  .  .  .  The 
encouragement  of  this  abomination  is  almost  solely  con- 
fined to  the  chiefs." 19  Of  the  New  Caledonians,  M.  Foley 
writes:  "La  plus  grande  fraternite  n'est  pas  chez  eux  la 
fraternite  uterine,  mais  la  fraternite  des  armes.  II  en  est  ainsi 
surtout  au  village  de  poepo.  II  est  vrai  que  cette  fraternite  des 
armes  est  compliquee  de  pcdcrastie."  20 

Among  the  natives  of  the  Kimberley  District  in  West 
Australia,  if  a  young  man  on  reaching  a  marriageable  age 
can  find  no  wife,  he  is  presented  with  a  boy-wife,  known 
as  choofodoo.  In  this  case,  also,  the  ordinary  exogamic  rules 
are  observed,  and  the  "husband"  has  to  avoid  his  "mother- 
in-law"  just  as  if  he  were  married  to  a  woman.  The  choofo- 
doo  is  a  boy  of  five  years  to  about  ten,  when  he  is  initiated. 
"The  relations  which  exist  between  him  and  his  protecting 
billalu"  says  Mr.  Hardman,  "are  somewhat  doubtful.  There 


532  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

is  no  doubt  they  have  connection,  but  the  natives  repudiate 
with  horror  and  disgust  the  idea  of  sodomy." 21  Such  mar- 
riages are  evidently  exceedingly  common.  As  the  women  are 
generally  monopolized  by  the  older  and  more  influential 
men  of  the  tribe,  it  is  rare  to  find  a  man  under  thirty  or  forty 
who  has  a  wife:  hence  it  is  the  rule  that,  when  a  boy 
becomes  five  years  old,  he  is  given  as  a  boy-wife  to  one  of 
the  young  men.22  According  to  Mr.  PurcelPs  description 
of  the  natives  of  the  same  district,  "every  useless  member  of 
the  tribe"  gets  a  boy,  about  five  or  seven  years  old;  and 
these  boys,  who  are  called  mullawongahs ',  are  used  for  sexual 
purposes.23  Among  the  Chingalee  of  South  Australia,  North- 
ern Territory,  old  men  are  often  noticed  with  no  wives  but 
accompanied  by  one  or  two  boys,  whom  they  jealously 
guard  and  with  whom  they  have  sodomitic  intercourse.24 

That  homosexual  practices  are  not  unknown  among  other 
Australian  tribes  may  be  inferred  from  Mr.  Howitt's  state- 
ment relating  to  South-Eastern  natives,  that  unnatural  of- 
fenses are  forbidden  to  the  novices  by  the  old  men  and 
guardians  after  leaving  the  initiation  camp.25 

In  Madagascar  there  are  certain  boys  who  live  like  women 
and  have  intercourse  with  men,  paying  those  men  who 
please  them.20  In  an  old  account  of  that  island,  dating  from 
the  seventeenth  century,  it  is  said:  "II  y  a  quelques 
hommes  qu'ils  appellent  Tsecats,  qui  sont  hommes  efltemi- 
nez  et  impuissans,  qui  recherchent  les  gardens,  et  font  mine 
d'en  estre  amoureux,  en  contrefaisons  les  filles  et  se  vestans 
ainsi  qu'elles  leurs  font  des  presents  pour  dormir  avec  eux, 
et  mesmes  se  donnent  des  noms  de  filles,  en  faisant  les  hon- 
teuses  et  les  modestes.  ...  Us  Ha'issent  les  femmes  et  ne  les 
veulent  point  hanter."27  Men  behaving  like  women  have 
also  been  observed  among  the  Ondonga  in  German  South- 
west Africa28  and  the  Diakite-Sarracolese  in  the  French 
Soudan,29  but  as  regards  their  sexual  habits  details  are 
wanting.  Homosexual  practices  are  common  among  the 
Banaka  and  Bapuku  in  the  Cameroons.80  But  among  the 
natives  of  Africa  generally  such  practices  seem  to  be  com* 


SEXUAL    CUSTOMS    AND    SOCIAL    PRACTICE      533 

paratively  rare,81  except  among  Arabic-speaking  peoples  and 
in  countries  like  Zanzibar,82  where  there  has  been  a  strong 
Arab  influence. 

In  North  Africa  they  are  not  restricted  to  the  inhabitants 
of  towns;  they  are  frequently  among  the  peasants  of  Egypt 33 
and  universal  among  the  Jbala  inhabiting  the  Northern 
mountains  of  Morocco.  On  the  other  hand,  they  are  much 
less  common  or  even  rare  among  the  Berbers  and  the 
nomadic  Bedouins,84  and  it  is  reported  that  the  Bedouins 
of  Arabia  are  quite  exempt  from  them.35 

Homosexual  love  is  spread  over  Asia  Minor  and  Mesopo- 
tamia.30 It  is  very  prevalent  among  the  Tartars  and  Ka- 
ratchai  of  the  Caucasus,37  the  Persians,88  Sikhs,89  and 
Afghans;  in  Kaubul  a  bazaar  or  street  is  set  apart  for  it.40 
Old  travelers  make  reference  to  its  enormous  frequency 
among  the  Muhammedans  of  India,41  and  in  this  respect 
time  seems  to  have  produced  no  change.42  In  China,  where 
it  is  also  extremely  common,  there  are  special  houses  devoted 
to  male  prostitution,  and  boys  are  sold  by  their  parents 
about  the  age  of  four,  to  be  trained  for  this  occupation.48 
In  Japan  pederasty  is  said  by  some  to  have  prevailed  from 
the  most  ancient  times,  whereas  others  are  of  opinion  that 
it  was  introduced  by  Buddhism  about  the  sixth  century  of 
our  era.  The  monks  used  to  live  with  handsome  youths,  to 
whom  they  were  often  passionately  devoted;  and  in  feudal 
times  nearly  every  knight  had  as  his  favorite  a  young  man 
with  whom  he  entertained  relations  of  the  most  intimate 
kind,  and  on  behalf  of  whom  he  was  always  ready  to  fight  a 
duel  when  occasion  occurred.  Tea-houses  with  male  ghcishas 
were  found  in  Japan  till  the  middle  of  the  nineteenth  cen- 
tury. Nowadays  pederasty  seems  to  be  more  prevalent  in  the 
Southern  than  in  the  Northern  provinces  of  the  country,  but 
there  are  also  districts  where  it  is  hardly  known.44 

No  reference  is  made  to  pederasty  either  in  the  Homeric 
poems  or  by  Hesiod,  but  later  on  we  meet  with  it  almost 
as  a  national  institution  in  Greece.  It  was  known  in  Rome 
and  other  parts  of  Italy  at  an  early  period; i5  but  here  also 


534  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

it  became  much  more  frequent  in  the  course  of  time.  At  the 
close  of  the  sixth  century,  Polybius  tells  us,  many  Romans 
paid  a  talent  for  the  possession  of  a  beautiful  youth.40  During 
the  Empire  "il  etait  d'usage,  dans  les  families  patriciennes, 
de  donner  au  jeune  homme  pubere  un  esclave  du  meme 
age  comme  compagnon  de  lit,  afin  qu'il  put  satisfaire  .  .  . 
'ses  premiers  elans'  genesiques";  4T  and  formal  marriages 
between  men  were  introduced  with  all  the  solemnities  of 
ordinary  nuptials.48  Homosexual  practices  occurred  among 
the  Celts,49  and  were  by  no  means  unknown  to  the  ancient 
Scandinavians,  who  had  a  whole  nomenclature  on  the 
subject.50 

Of  late  years  a  voluminous  and  constantly  increasing 
literature  on  homosexuality  has  revealed  its  frequency  in 
modern  Europe.  No  country  and  no  class  of  society  is  free 
from  it.  In  certain  parts  of  Albania  it  even  exists  as  a  popular 
custom,  the  young  men  from  the  age  of  sixteen  upwards 
regularly  having  boy  favorites  of  between  twelve  and 
.seventeen.51 

The  above  statements  chiefly  refer  to  homosexual  prac- 
tices between  men,  but  similar  practices  also  occur  between 
women.52  Among  the  American  aborigines  there  are  not 
only  men  who  behave  like  women,  but  women  who  behave 
like  men.  Thus  in  certain  Brazilian  tribes  women  are  found 
who  abstain  from  every  womanly  occupation  and  imitate 
the  men  in  everything,  who  wear  their  hair  in  masculine 
fashion,  who  go  to  war  with  a  bow  and  arrows,  who  hunt 
together  with  the  men,  and  who  would  rather  allow  them- 
selves to  be  killed  than  have  sexual  intercourse  with  a  man. 
"Each  of  these  women  has  a  woman  who  serves  her  and 
with  whom  she  says  she  is  married;  they  live  together  as 
husband  and  wife."  53  So  also  there  are  among  the  Eastern 
Eskimo  some  women  who  refuse  to  accept  husbands,  pre- 
ferring to  adopt  masculine  manners,  following  the  deer 
on  the  mountains,  trapping  and  fishing  for  themselves.54 
Homosexual  practices  are  said  to  be  common  among  Hot- 
tentot 55  and  Herero 56  women.  In  Zanzibar  there  are  women 


SEXUAL    CUSTOMS    AND    SOCIAL    PRACTICE      535 

who  wear  men's  clothes  in  private,  show  a  preference  for 
masculine  occupations,  and  seek  sexual  satisfaction  among 
women  who  have  the  same  inclination,  or  else  among  nor- 
mal women  who  are  won  over  by  presents  or  other  means.51 
In  Egyptian  harems  every  woman  is  said  to  have  a 
"friend." 58  In  Bali  homosexuality  is  almost  as  common 
among  women  as  among  men,  though  it  is  exercised  more 
secretly;89  and  the  same  seems  to  be  the  case  in  India.80 
From  Greek  antiquity  we  hear  of  "Lesbian"  love.  The  fact 
that  homosexuality  has  been  much  more  frequently  noticed 
in  men  than  in  women  does  not  imply  that  the  latter  are 
less  addicted  to  it.  For  various  reasons  the  sexual  abnormali- 
ties of  women  have  attracted  much  less  attention,61  and 
moral  opinion  has  generally  taken  little  notice  of  them. 

Homosexual  practices  are  due  sometimes  to  instinctive 
preference,  sometimes  to  external  conditions  unfavorable  to 
normal  intercourse.62  A  frequent  cause  is  congenital  sexual 
inversion,  that  is,  "sexual  instinct  turned  by  inborn  consti' 
tutional  abnormality  toward  persons  of  the  same  sex." 6S  L 
seems  likely  that  the  feminine  men  and  the  masculine 
women  referred  to  above  are,  at  least  in  many  instances, 
sexual  inverts;  though,  in  the  case  of  shamans,  the  change 
of  sex  may  also  result  from  the  belief  that  such  trans- 
formed shamans,  like  their  female  colleagues,  are  par- 
ticularly powerful.64  Dr.  Holder  affirms  the  existence  of 
congenital  inversion  among  the  Northwestern  tribes  of  the 
United  States,05  Dr.  Baumann  among  the  people  of  Zan- 
zibar; °°  and  in  Morocco,  also,  I  believe  it  is  common  enough. 
But  as  regards  its  prevalence  among  non-European  peoples 
we  have  mostly  to  resort  to  mere  conjectures;  our  real 
knowledge  of  congenital  inversion  is  derived  from  the  vol- 
untary confessions  of  inverts.  The  large  majority  of  traveler* 
are  totally  ignorant  of  the  psychological  side  of  the  subject, 
and  even  to  an  expert  it  must  very  often  be  impossible  to 
decide  whether  a  certain  case  of  inversion  is  congenital  or 
acquired.  Indeed,  acquired  inversion  itself  presupposes  ait 
innate  disposition  which  under  certain  circumstances  de- 


530  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

vclops  into  actual  inversion.07  Even  between  inversion  and 
normal  sexuality  there  seems  to  be  all  shades  of  variation. 
Professor  James  thinks  that  inversion  is  "a  kind  of  sexual 
appetite,  of  which  very  likely  most  men  possess  the  germinal 
possibility."  °8  This  is  certainly  the  case  in  early  puberty.69 
A  very  important  cause  of  homosexual  practices  is  absence 
of  the  other  sex.  There  are  many  instances  of  this  among 
the  lower  animals.70  Buffon  long  ago  observed  that,  if  male 
or  female  birds  of  various  species  were  shut  up  together, 
they  would  soon  begin  to  have  sexual  relations  among  them- 
selves, the  males  sooner  than  the  females.71  The  West 
Australian  boy-marriage  is  a  substitute  for  ordinary  marriage 
in  cases  when  women  are  not  obtainable.  Among  the  Bororo 
of  Brazil  homosexual  intercourse  is  said  to  occur  in  their 
men-houses  only  when  the  scarcity  of  accessible  girls  is 
unusually  great.72  Its  prevalence  in  Tahiti  may  perhaps 
be  connected  with  the  fact  that  there  was  only  one  woman  to 
four  or  five  men,  owing  to  the  habit  of  female  infanticide.79 
Among  the  Chinese  in  certain  regions,  for  instance  Java, 
the  lack  of  accessible  women  is  the  principal  cause  of  homo- 
sexual practices.74  According  to  some  writers  such  practices 
are  the  results  of  polygamy.75  In  Muhammedan  countries 
they  are  no  doubt  largely  due  to  the  seclusion  of  women, 
preventing  free  intercourse  between  the  sexes  and  com- 
pelling the  unmarried  people  to  associate  almost  exclusively 
with  members  of  their  own  sex.  Among  the  mountaineers 
of  northern  Morocco  the  excessive  indulgence  in  pederasty 
thus  goes  hand  in  hand  with  great  isolation  of  the  women 
and  a  very  high  standard  of  female  chastity,  whereas 
among  the  Arabs  of  the  plains,  who  are  little  addicted  to 
boy-love,  the  unmarried  girls  enjoy  considerable  freedom. 
Both  in  Asia 7fl  and  Europe 77  the  obligatory  celibacy  of  the 
monks  and  priests  has  been  a  cause  of  homosexual  practices, 
though  it  must  not  be  forgotten  that  a  profession  which 
imposes  abstinence  from  marriage  is  likely  to  attract  a 
comparatively  large  number  of  congenital  inverts.  The  tem- 
porary separation  of  the  sexes  involved  in  a  military  mode 


SEXUAL    CUSTOMS    AND    SOCIAL    PRACTICE      537 

of  life  no  doubt  accounts  for  the  extreme  prevalence  of 
homosexual  love  among  warlike  races,78  like  the  Sikhs, 
Afghans,  Dorians,  and  Normans.70  In  Persia 80  and  Morocco 
it  is  particularly  common  among  soldiers.  In  Japan  it  was 
an  incident  of  knighthood,  in  New  Caledonia  and  North 
America  of  brotherhood*  in  arms.  At  least  in  some  of  the 
North  American  tribes  men  who  were  dressed  as  women 
accompanied  the  other  men  as  servants  in  war  and  the 
chase.81  Among  the  Banaka  and  Bapuku  in  the  Cameroons 
pederasty  is  practiced  especially  by  men  who  are  long  ab- 
sent from  their  wives.82  In  Morocco  I  have  heard  it  advocated 
on  account  of  the  convenience  it  affords  to  persons  who  are 
traveling. 

Dr.  Havelock  Ellis  justly  observes  that  when  homosexual 
attraction  is  due  simply  to  the  absence  of  the  other  sex  we 
are  not  concerned  with  sexual  inversion,  but  merely  with 
the  accidental  turning  of  the  sexual  instinct  into  an  abnormal 
channel,  the  instinct  being  called  out  by  an  approximate  sub- 
stitute, or  even  by  diffused  emotional  excitement,  in  the 
absence  of  the  normal  object.83  But  it  seems  to  me  probable 
that  in  such  cases  the  homosexual  attraction  in  the  course 
of  time  quite  easily  develops  into  genuine  inversion.  I 
cannot  but  think  that  our  chief  authorities  on  homosexuality 
have  underestimated  the  modifying  influence  which  habit 
may  exercise  on  the  sexual  instinct.  Professor  Krafft- 
Ebing84  and  Dr.  Moll85  deny  the  existence  of  acquired 
inversion  except  in  occasional  instances;  and  Dr.  Havelock 
Ellis  takes  a  similar  view,  if  putting  aside  those  cases  of 
a  more  or  less  morbid  character  in  which  old  men  with 
failing  sexual  powers,  or  younger  men  exhausted  by  hetero- 
sexual debauchery,  are  attracted  to  members  of-their  own 
sex.86  But  how  is  it  that  in  some  parts  of  Morocco  such  a 
very  large  proportion  of  the  men  are  distinctly  sexual 
inverts,  in  the  sense  in  which  this  word  is  used  by  Dr. 
Havelock  Ellis,87  that  is,  persons  who  for  the  gratification 
of  their  sexual  desire  prefer  their  own  sex  to  the  opposite 
one?  It  may  be  that  in  Morocco  and  in  Oriental  countries 


538  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

generally,  where  almost  every  individual  marries,  congenital 
inversion,  through  the  influence  of  heredity,  is  more  frequent 
than  in  Europe,  where  inverts  so  commonly  abstain  from 
marrying.  But  that  this  could  not  be  an  adequate  explana- 
tion of  the  fact  in  question  becomes  at  once  apparent  when 
we  consider  the  extremely  unequal  distribution  of  in- 
verts among  different  neighboring  tribes  of  the  same  stock, 
some  of  which  are  very  little  or  hardly  at  all  addicted  to 
pederasty.  I  take  the  case  to  be,  that  homosexual  practices 
in  early  youth  have  had  a  lasting  effect  on  the  sexual  instinct, 
which  at  its  first  appearance,  being  somewhat  indefinite, 
is  easily  turned  into  a  homosexual  direction.88  In  Morocco 
inversion  is  most  prevalent  among  the  scribes,  who  from 
childhood  have  lived  in  very  close  association  with  their 
fellow-students.  Of  course,  influences  of  this  kind  "require 
a  favorable  organic  predisposition  to  act  on"; 80  but  this 
predisposition  is  probably  no  abnormality  at  all,  only  a 
feature  in  the  ordinary  sexual  constitution  of  man.00  It 
should  be  noticed  that  the  most  common  form  of  inversion, 
at  least  in  Muhammedan  countries,  is  love  of  boys  or  youths 
not  yet  in  the  age  of  puberty,  that  is,  of  male  individuals 
who  are  physically  very  like  girls.  Voltaire  observes:  "Sou- 
vent  un  jeune  gar$on,  par  la  fraicheur  de  son  teint,  par 
1'eclat  de  ses  couleurs,  et  par  la  douceur  de  ses  yeux,  res- 
semble  pendant  deux  ou  trois  ans  a  une  belle  fille;  si  on 
Paime  c'est  parce  que  la  nature  se  meprend."01  Moreover, 
in  normal  cases  sexual  attraction  depends  not  only  on  sex, 
but  on  a  youthful  appearance  as  well;  and  there  are  persons 
so  constituted  that  to  them  the  latter  factor  is  of  chief 
importance,  whilst  the  question  of  sex  is  almost  a  matter  of 
indifference. 

In  ancient  Greece,  also,  not  only  homosexual  intercourse, 
but  actual  inversion,  seems  to  have  been  very  common;  and 
although  this,  like  every  form  of  love,  must  have  contained 
a  congenital  element,  there  can  be  little  doubt,  I  think,  that 
it  was  largely  due  to  external  circumstances  of  a  social  char- 
acter.  It  may,  in  the  first  place,  be  traced  to  the  methods 


SEXUAL    CUSTOMS    AND    SOCIAL    PRACTICE      539^ 

of  training  the  youth.  In  Sparta  it  seems  to  have  been  the 
practice  for  every  youth  of  good  character  to  have  his  lover$ 
or  "inspirator,"  °2  and  for  every  well-educated  man  to  be  the 
lover  of  some  youth.93  The  relations  between  the  "inspirator" 
and  the  "listener"  were  extremely  intimate:  at  home  the 
youth  was  constantly  under  the  eyes  of  his  lover,  who  was 
supposed  to  be  to  him  a  model  and  pattern  of  life;94  in 
battle  they  stood  near  one  another  and  their  fidelity  and 
affection  were  often  shown  till  death; 95  if  his  relatives  were 
absent,  the  youth  might  be  represented  in  the  public  as- 
sembly by  his  lover;  °°  and  for  many  faults,  particularly  want 
of  ambition,  the  lover  could  be  punished  instead  of  the 
"listener."  °7  This  ancient  custom  prevailed  with  still  greater 
force  in  Crete,  which  island  was  hence  by  many  persons 
considered  to  be  the  place  of  its  birth.98  Whatever  may 
have  been  the  case  originally,  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  in 
later  times  the  relations  between  the  youth  and  his  lover 
implied  unchaste  intercourse.90  And  in  other  Greek  states 
the  education  of  the  youth  was  accompanied  by  similar 
consequences.  At  an  early  age  the  boy  was  taken  away  from 
his  mother,  and  spent  thenceforth  all  his  time  in  the  com- 
pany of  men,  until  he  reached  the  age  when  marriage  be- 
came for  him  a  civic  duty.100  According  to  Plato,  the  gym- 
nasia and  common  meals  among  the  youth  "seem  always 
to  have  had  a  tendency  to  degrade  the  ancient  and  natural 
custom  of  love  below  the  level,  not  only  of  man,  but  of 
the  beasts."101  Plato  also  mentions  the  effect  which  these 
habits  had  on  the  sexual  instincts  of  the  men:  "When  they 
reached  manhood  they  were  lovers  of  youths  and  not  natu- 
rally inclined  to  marry  or  beget  children,  but,  if  at  all,  they 
did  so  only  in  obedience  to  the  law." 102  Is  not  this,  in  all 
probability,  an  instance  of  acquired  inversion?  But  besides 
the  influence  of  education  there  was  another  factor  which, 
cooperating  with  it,  favored  the  development  of  homo- 
sexual tendencies,  namely,  the  great  gulf  which  mentally 
separated  the  sexes.  Nowhere  else  has  the  difference  in 
culture  between  men  and  women  been  «?o  immense  as  in  the 


THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

fully  developed  Greek  civilization.  The  lot  of  a  wife  in 
Greece  was  retirement  and  ignorance.  She  lived  in  almost 
absolute  seclusion,  in  a  separate  part  of  the  house,  together 
with  her  female  slaves,  deprived  of  all  the  educating  influ- 
ence of  male  society,  and  having  no  place  at  those  public 
spectacles  which  were  the  chief  means  of  culture.103  In  such 
circumstances  it  is  not  difficult  to  understand  that  men  so 
highly  intellectual  as  those  of  Athens  regarded  the  love  of 
women  as  the  offspring  of  the  common  Aphrodite,  who  "is 
c  f  the  body  rather  than  of  the  soul." 104  They  had  reached  a 
stage  of  mental  culture  at  which  the  sexual  instinct  normally 
has  a  craving  for  refinement,  at  which  the  gratification  of 
mere  physical  lust  appears  brutal.  In  the  eyes  of  the  most 
refined  among  them  those  who  were  inspired  by  the 
heavenly  Aphrodite  loved  neither  women  nor  boys,  but 
intelligent  beings  whose  reason  was  beginning  to  be  de- 
veloped, much  about  the  time  at  which  the  beards  began  to 
grow.106  In  present  China  we  meet  with  a  parallel  case.  Dr. 
Matignon  observes:  "II  y  a  tout  lieu  de  supposer  que  ce  tains 
Chinois,  raffines  au  point  de  vue  intellectuel,  recherchent 
dans  le  pederastie  la  satisfaction  des  sens  et  de  1'esprit.  La 
femme  chinoise  est  peu  cultivee,  ignorante  mcme,  quelle  soit 
sa  condition,  honnete  femme  ou  prostituee.  Or  le  Chinois  a 
souvent  Tame  poetique:  il  aime  les  vers,  la  musique,  les  belles 
sentences  des  philosophes,  autant  de  choses  qu'il  ne  peut 
trouver  chez  le  beau  sexe  de  1'Empire  du  Milieu." 106  So  also 
it  seems  that  the  ignorance  and  dullness  of  Muhammedan 
women,  which  is  a  result  of  their  total  lack  of  education  and 
their  secluded  life,  is  a  cause  of  homosexual  practices;  Moors 
are  sometimes  heard  to  defend  pederasty  on  the  plea  that  the 
company  of  boys,  who  have  always  nev/s  to  tell,  is  so  much 
ncore  entertaining  than  the  company  of  women. 

We  have  hitherto  dealt  with  homosexual  love  as  a  fact; 
we  shall  now  pass  to  the  moral  valuation  to  which  it  is 
subject.  Where  it  occurs  as  a  national  habit  we  may  assume 
that  no  censure,  or  no  severe  censure,  is  passed  on  it.  Among 
the  Bataks  of  Sumatra  there  is  no  punishment  for  it.107  Of 


SEXUAL    CUSTOMS    AND    SOCIAL    PRACTICE      54! 

the  bazirs  among  the  Ngajus  of  Pula  Patak,  in  Borneo,  Dr. 
Schwaner  says  that  "in  spite  of  their  loathsome  calling  they 
escape  well-merited  contempt." 108  The  Society  Islanders  had 
for  their  homosexual  practices  "not  only  the  sanction  of  their 
priests,  but  direct  example  of  their  respective  deities."109 
The  tsefyts  of  Madagascar  maintained  that  they  were  serv- 
ing the  deity  by  leading  a  feminine  life; 110  but  we  are  told 
that  at  Ankisimane  and  in  Nossi-Be,  opposite  to  it,  pederasts 
are  objects  of  public  contempt.111  Father  Veniaminof  says 
of  the  Atkha  Aleuts  that  "sodomy  and  too  early  cohabitation 
with  a  betrothed  or  intended  wife  are  called  among  them 
grave  sins"; 112  but  apart  from  the  fact  that  his  account  of 
these  natives  in   general   gives  the   impression   of  being 
somewhat  eulogistic,  the  details  stated  by  him  only  show 
that  the  acts  in  question  were  considered  to  require  a  simple 
ceremony  of  purification.113  There  is  no  indication  that  the 
North  American  aborigines  attached  any  opprobrium  to 
men  who  had  intercourse  with  those  members  of  their  own 
sex  who  had  assumed  the  dress  and  habits  of  women.  In 
Kadiak  such  a  companion  was  on  the  contrary  regarded  as 
a  great  acquisition;  and  the  effeminate  men  themselves,  far 
from  being  despised,  were  held  in  repute  by  the  people,  most 
of  them  being  wizards.114  We  have  previously  noticed  the 
connection  between  homosexual  practices  and  shamanism 
among  the  various  Siberian  peoples;  and  it  is  said  that 
such  shamans  as  had  changed  their  sex  were  greatly  feared 
by  the  people,  being  regarded  as  very  powerful.115  Among 
the  Illinois  and  Naudowessies  the  effeminate  men  assist  in 
all  the  Juggleries  and  the  solemn  dance  in  honor  of  the  calu- 
met, or  sacred  tobacco  pipe,  for  which  the  Indians  have 
such  a  deference  that  one  may  call  it  "the  god  of  peace  and 
war,  and  the  arbiter  of  life  and  death";  but  they  are  not 
permitted  either  to  dance  or  sing.  They  are  called  into  the 
councils  of  the  Indians,  and  nothing  can  be  decided  upon 
without  their  advice;  for  because  of  their  extraordinary  man- 
ner of  living  they  are  looked  upon  as  manitous,  or  super- 
natural beings,  and  persons  of  consequence.116  The  Sioux, 


542  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

Sacs,  and  Fox  Indians  give  once  a  year,  or  oftener  if  they 
choose,  a  feast  to  the  Berdashe,  or  l-coo-coo-a,  who  is  a  man 
dressed  in  woman's  clothes,  as  he  has  been  all  his  life.  "For 
extraordinary  privileges  which  he  is  known  to  possess,  he  is 
driven  to  the  most  servile  and  degrading  duties,  which  he  is 
not  allowed  to  escape;  and  he  being  the  only  one  of  the  tribe 
submitting  to  this  disgraceful  degradation,  is  looked  upon  as 
'medicine'  and  sacred,  and  a  feast  is  given  to  him  annually; 
and  initiatory  to  it,  a  dance  by  those  few  young  men  of  the 
tribe  who  can . . .  dance  forward  and  publicly  make  their 
boast  (without  the  denial  of  the  Berdashe).... Such,  and 
such  only,  are  allowed  to  enter  the  dance  and  partake  of  the 
feast."117  Among  some  American  tribes,  however,  these 
effeminate  men  are  said  to  be  despised,  especially  by  the 
women.118  In  ancient  Peru,  also,  homosexual  practices  seem 
to  have  entered  in  the  religious  cult.  In  some  particular 
places,  says  Cieza  de  Leon,  boys  were  kept  as  priests  in  the 
temples,  with  whom  it  was  rumored  that  the  lords  joined 
in  company  on  days  of  festivity.  They  did  not  meditate,  he 
adds,  the  committing  of  such  sin,  but  only  the  offering  of 
sacrifice  to  the  demon.  If  the  Incas  by  chance  had  some 
knowledge  of  such  proceedings  in  the  temple,  they  might 
have  ignored  them  out  of  religious  tolerance.119  But  the 
Incas  themselves  were  not  only  free  from  such  practices 
in  their  own  persons,  they  would  not  even  permit  any  one 
who  was  guilty  of  them  to  remain  in  the  royal  houses  or 
palaces.  And  Cieza  heard  it  related  that,  if  it  came  to  their 
knowledge  that  somebody  had  committed  an  offense  of  that 
kind,  they  punished  it  with  such  a  severity  that  it  was  known 
to  all.120  Las  Casas  tells  us  that  in  several  of  the  more  re- 
mote provinces  of  Mexico  sodomy  was  tolerated,  if  not 
actually  permitted,  because  the  people  believed  that  their 
gods  were  addicted  to  it;  and  it  is  not  improbable  that  in 
earlier  times  the  same  was  the  case  in  the  entire  empire.121 
But  in  a  later  age  severe  measures  were  adopted  by  legisla- 
lators  in  order  to  suppress  the  practice.  In  Mexico  people 
/found  guilty  of  it  were  killed.122  In  Nicaragua  it  was  pun- 


SEXUAL    CUSTOMS    AND    SOCIAL    PRACTICE      543 

ished  capitally  by  stoning/23  and  none  of  the  Maya  nations 
was  without  strict  laws  against  it.124  Among  the  Chibchas 
of  Bogota  the  punishment  for  it  was  the  infliction  of  a  pain- 
ful death.125  However,  it  should  be  remembered  that  the 
ancient  culture  nations  of  America  were  generally  extrava- 
gant in  their  punishments,  and  that  their  penal  codes  in  the 
first  place  expressed  rather  the  will  of  their  rulers  than  the 
feelings  of  the  people  at  large.128 

Homosexual  practices  are  said  to  be  taken  little  notice  of 
even  by  some  uncivilized  peoples  who  are  not  addicted  to 
them.  In  the  Pelew  Islands,  where  such  practices  occur  only 
sporadically,  they  are  not  punished,  although,  if  I  understand 
Herr  Kubary  rightly,  the  persons  committing  them  may  be 
put  to  shame.127  The  Ossetes  of  the  Caucasus,  among  whom 
pederasty  is  very  rare,  do  not  generally  prosecute  persons 
for  committing  it,  but  ignore  the  act.128  The  East  African 
Masai  do  not  punish  sodomy.129  But  we  also  meet  with 
statements  of  a  contrary  nature.  In  a  Kafir  tribe  Mr.  Warner 
heard  of  a  case  of  it — the  only  one  during  a  residence  of 
twenty-five  years — which  was  punished  with  a  fine  of  some 
cattle  claimed  by  the  chief.130  Among  the  Ondonga  pederasts 
are  hated,  and  the  men  who  behave  like  women  are  detested, 
most  of  them  being  wizards.131  The  Washambala  consider 
pederasty  a  grave  moral  aberration  and  subject  it  to  severe 
punishment.132  Among  the  Waganda  homosexual  practices, 
which  have  been  introduced  by  the  Arabs  and  are  of  rare 
occurrence,  "are  intensely  abhorred,"  the  stake  being  the  pun- 
ishment.133 The  Negroes  of  Accra,  who  are  not  addicted  to 
such  practices,  are  said  to  detest  them.134  In  Nubia  pederasty 
is  held  in  abhorrence,  except  by  the  Kashefs  and  their  rela- 
tions, who  endeavor  to  imitate  the  Mamelukes  in  every- 
thing.135 

Muhammed  forbade  sodomy,130  and  the  general  opinion 
of  his  followers  is  that  it  should  be  punished  like  fornica- 
tion— for  which  the  punishment  is,  theoretically,  severe 
enough187 — unless  the  offenders  make  a  public  act -of  peni- 
tence. In  order  to  convict,  however,  the  law  requires  than 


544  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

four  reliable  persons  shall  swear  to  have  been  eye-wit- 
nesses,188 and  this  alone  would  make  the  law  a  dead  letter, 
even  if  it  had  the  support  of  popular  feelings;  but  such  sup- 
port is  certainly  wanting.  In  Morocco  active  pederasty  is 
regarded  with  almost  complete  indifference,  whilst  the 
passive  sodomite,  if  a  grown-up  individual,  is  spoken  of 
with  scorn.  Dr.  Polak  says  the  same  of  the  Persians.139  In 
Zanzibar  a  clear  distinction  is  made  between  male  congenital 
inverts  and  male  prostitutes;  the  latter  are  looked  upon  with 
contempt,  whereas  the  former,  as  being  what  they  are  "by 
the  will  of  God,"  are  tolerated.140  The  Muhammedans  of 
India  and  other  Asiatic  countries  regard  pederasty,  at  most, 
as  a  mere  peccadillo.141  Among  the  Hindus  it  is  said  to  be 
held  in  abhorrence,142  but  their  sacred  books  deal  with  it 
leniently.  According  to  the  "Laws  of  Manu,"  "a  twice-born 
man  who  commits  an  unnatural  offense  with  a  male,  or  has 
intercourse  with  a  female  in  a  cart  drawn  by  oxen,  in  water, 
or  in  the  day-time  shall  bathe,  dressed  in  his  clothes";  and 
all  these  are  reckbned  as  minor  offenses.143 

Chinese  law  makes  little  distinction  between  unnatural 
and  other  sexual  offenses.  An  unnatural  offense  is  variously 
considered  according  to  the  age  of  the  patient,  and  whether 
or  not  consent  was  given.  If  the  patient  be  an  adult,  or  a  boy 
over  the  age  of  twelve,  and  consent,  the  case  is  treated  as 
a  slightly  aggravated  form  of  fornication,  both  parties  being 
punished  with  a  hundred  blows  and  one  month's  cangue, 
whilst  ordinary  fornication  is  punished  with  eighty  blows.  If 
the  adult  or  boy  over  twelve  resist,  the  offense  is  considered 
as  rape;  and  if  the  boy  be  under  twelve,  the  offense  is  rape 
irrespective  of  consent  or  resistance,  unless  the  boy  has  pre- 
viously gone  astray.144  But,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  unnatural 
offenses  are  regarded  as  less  hurtful  to  the  community  than 
ordinary  immorality,145  and  pederasty  is  not  looked  down4 
upon.  "L'opinion  publique  reste  tout  a  fait  indifferente  &  cc 
genre  de  distraction  et  la  morale  ne  s'en  emeut  en  rien: 
puisque  cela  plait  &  Toperateur  et  que  Popere  est  consentant, 
tout  est  pour  le  mieux;  la  loi  chinoise  n'aime  gu&re  &  s'occu- 


SEXUAL    CUSTOMS     AND    SOCIAL    PRACTICE      54$ 

per  des  affaires  trop  intimes.  La  pederastie  est  meme 
considered  comme  une  chose  de  bon  ton,  une  fantaisie  dis- 
pendieuse  et  partout  un  plaisir  elegant. ...  La  pederastie  a 
une  consecration  officielle  en  Chine.  II  existe,  en  effet,  des 
pederes  pour  1'Empereur." 146  Indeed,  the  only  objection 
which  Dr.  Matignon  has  heard  to  be  raised  to  pederasty  by 
public  opinion  in  China  is  that  it  has  a  bad  influence  on 
the  eyesight.147  In  Japan  there  was  no  law  against  homo- 
sexual intercourse  till  the  revolution  of  i868.148  In  the 
period  of  Japanese  chivalry  it  was  considered  more  heroic 
if  a  man  loved  a  person  of  his  own  sex  than  if  he  loved  a 
woman ;  and  nowadays  people  are  heard  to  say  that  in  those 
provinces  of  the  country  where  pederasty  is  widely  spread 
the  men  are  more  manly  and  robust  than  in  those  where  it 
does  not  prevail.149 

The  laws  of  the  ancient  Scandinavians  ignore  homosexual 
practices;  but  passive  pederasts  were  much  despised  by  them. 
They  were  identified  with  cowards  and  regarded  as  sor- 
cerers. The  epithets  applied  to  them — argr,  ragr,  blandr, 
and  others — assumed  the  meaning  of  "poltroon"  in  general, 
and  there  are  instances  of  the  word  arg  being  used  in  the 
sense  of  "practicing  withcraft."  This  connection  between 
pederasty  and  sorcery,  as  a  Norwegian  scholar  justly  points 
out,  helps  us  to  understand  Tacitus'  statement  that  among 
the  ancient  Teutons  individuals  whom  he  describes  as  cor~ 
pore  infames  were  buried  alive  in  a  morass.180  Considering 
that  drowning  was  a  common  penalty  for  sorcery,  it  seems 
probable  that  this  punishment  'was  inflicted  upon  them  not, 
in  the  first  place,  on  account  of  their  sexual  practices,  but  in 
their  capacity  of  wizards.  It  is  certain  that  the  opprobrium 
which  the  pagan  Scandinavians  attached  to  homosexual  love 
was  chiefly  restricted  to  him  who  played  the  woman's  part. 
In  one  of  the  poems  the  hero  even  boasts  of  being  the 
father  of  offspring  borne  by  another  man.151 

In  Greece  pederasty  in  its  baser  forms  was  censured, 
though  generally,  it  seems,  with  not  any  great  severity,  and 
in  some  states  it  was  legally  prohibited.162  According  to  an 


546  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

Athenian  law,  a  youth  who  prostituted  himself  for  money 
tost  his  rights  as  a  free  citizen  and  was  liable  to  the  punish* 
ment  of  death  if  he  took  part  in  a  public  feast  or  entered  the 
agora.163  In  Sparta  it  was  necessary  that  the  "listener" 
should  accept  the  "inspirator"  from  real  affection;  he  who 
d'.d  so  out  of  pecuniary  consideration  was  punished  by  the 
ephors.154  We  are  even  told  that  among  the  Spartans  the 
relations  between  the  lover  and  his  friend  were  truly  inno- 
cent, and  that  if  anything  unlawful  happened  both  must 
forsake  either  their  country  or  their  lives.165  But  the  uni- 
versal rule  in  Greece  seems  to  have  been  that  when  decorum 
was  observed  in  the  friendship  between  a  man  and  a  youth, 
no  inquiries  were  made  into  the  details  of  the  relation- 
ship.166 And  this  attachment  was  not  only  regarded  as  per- 
missible, but  was  praised  as  the  highest  and  purest  form  of 
love,  as  the  offspring  of  the  heavenly  Aphrodite,  as  a  path 
leading  to  virtue,  as  a  weapon  against  tyranny,  as  a  safe- 
guard of  civic  liberty,  as  a  source  of  national  greatness  and 
glory.  Phaedrus  said  that  he  knew  no  greater  blessing  to  a 
young  man  who  is  beginning  life  than  a  virtuous  lover, 
or  to  the  lover  than  a  beloved  youth;  for  the  principle  which 
ought  to  be  the  guide  of  men  who  would  lead  a  noble  life 
cannot  be  implanted  by  any  other  motive  so  well  as  by 
love.167  The  Platonic  Pausanias  argued  that  if  love  of  youths 
is  held  in  ill  repute  it  is  so  only  because  it  is  inimical  to 
lyranny;  "the  interests  of  rulers  require  that  their  subjects 
should  be  poor  in  spirit,  and  that  there  should  be  no  strong 
bond  of  friendship  or  society  among  them,  which  love, 
above  all  other  motives,  is  likely  to  inspire." 158  The  power 
of  the  Athenian  tyrants  was  broken  by  the  love  of  Aristogei- 
ton  and  the  constancy  of  Harmodius;  at  Agrigentum  in 
Sicily  the  mutual  love  of  Chariton  and  Melanippus  pro- 
duced a  similar  result;  and  the  greatness  of  Thebes  was  due 
to  the  Sacred  Band  established  by  Epaminondas.  For  "in 
ihe  presence  of  his  favorite,  a  man  would  choose  to  do  any- 
thing rather  than  to  get  the  character  of  a  coward.'* l59  It 
Yras  pointed  out  that  the  greatest  heroes  and  the  most  war 


SEXUAL    CUSTOMS    AND    SOCIAL    PRACTICE      547 

]ike  nations  were  those  who  were  most  addicted  to  the 
love  of  youths;  16°  and  it  was  said  that  an  army  consisting 
of  lovers  and  their  beloved  ones,  fighting  at  each  other's 
side,  although  a  mere  handful,  would  overcome  the  whole 
world.161 

Herodotus  asserts  that  the  love  of  boys  was  introduced 
from  Greece  into  Persia.182  Whether  his  statement  be  cor- 
rect or  not,  such  love  could  certainly  not  have  been  a  habit 
of  the  Mazda  worshipers.163  In  the  Zoroastrian  books  "un- 
natural sin"  is  treated  with  a  severity  to  which  there  is  a 
parallel  only  in  Hebrewism  and  Christianity.  According  to 
the  Vendidad,  there  is  no  atonement  for  it.164  It  is  punished 
with  torments  in  the  other  world,  and  is  capital  here 
below.160  Even  he  who  committed  it  involuntarily,  by  force, 
is  subject  to  corporal  punishment.106  Indeed,  it  is  a  more 
heinous  sin  than  the  slaying  of  a  righteous  man.167  "There 
is  no  worse  sin  than  this  in  the  good  religion,  and  it  k 
proper  to  call  those  who  commit  it  worthy  of  death  in 
reality.  If  any  one  comes  forth  to  them,  and  shall  see  them 
in  the  act,  and  is  working  with  an  ax,  it  is  requisite  for 
him  to  cut  off  the  heads  or  to  rip  up  the  bellies  of  both, 
and  it  is  no  sin  for  him.  But  it  is  not  proper  to  kill  any 
person  without  the  authority  of  high-priests  and  kings, 
except  on  account  of  committing  or  permitting  unnatural 
intercourse."108 

Nor  are  unnatural  sins  allowed  to  defile  the  land  of  the 
Lord.  Whosoever  shall  commit  such  abominations,  be  he 
Israelite  or  stranger  dwelling  among  the  Israelites,  shall  be 
put  to  death,  the  souls  that  do  them  shall  be  cut  off  from 
their  people.  By  unnatural  sins  of  lust  the  Canaanites  pol- 
luted their  land,  so  that  God  visited  their  guilt,  and  the  land 
spued  out  its  inhabitants.169 

This  horror  of  homosexual  practices  was  shared  by  Chris- 
tianity. According  to  St.  Paul,  they  form  the  climax  of  th« 
moral  corruption  to  which  God  gave  over  the  heathen  be 
cause  of  their  apostasy  from  him.170  Tertullian  says  that  they 
are  banished  "not  only  from  the  threshold,  but  from  aQ 


548  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

shelter  of  the  church,  because  they  are  not  sins,  but  mon- 
strosities." in  St.  Basil  maintains  that  they  deserve  the  same 
punishment  as  murder,  idolatry,  and  witchcraft.172  Accord- 
ing to  a  decree  of  the  Council  of  Elvira,  those  who  abuse 
boys  to  satisfy  their  lusts  are  denied  communion  even  at 
their  last  hour.173  In  no  other  point  of  morals  was  the 
contrast  between  the  teachings  of  Christianity  and  the  habits 
and  opinions  of  the  world  over  which  it  spread  more  radical 
than  in  this.  In  Rome  there  was  an  old  law  of  unknown 
date,  called  Lex  Scantinia  (or  Scatinia),  which  imposed 
a  mulct  on  him  who  committed  pederasty  with  a  free  per- 
ron;174 but  this  law,  of  which  very  little  is  known,  had 
lain  dormant  for  ages,  and  the  subject  of  ordinary  homo- 
sexual intercourse  had  never  afterwards  attracted  the 
attention  of  the  pagan  legislators.175  But  when  Christianity 
became  the  religion  of  the  Roman  Empire,  a  veritable  cru- 
sade was  opened  against  it.  Constantius  and  Constans  made 
it  a  capital  crime,  punishable  with  the  sword.176  Valentinian 
went  further  still  and  ordered  that  those  who  were  found 
guilty  of  it  should  be  burned  alive  in  the  presence  of  all  the 
people.177  Justinian,  terrified  by  certain  famines,  earth- 
quakes, and  pestilences,  issued  an  edict  which  again  con- 
demned persons  guilty  of  unnatural  offenses  to  the  sword, 
"lest,  as  the  result  of  these  impious  acts,  whole  cities  should 
perish  together  with  their  inhabitants,"  as  we  are  taught 
by  Holy  Scripture  that  through  such  acts  cities  have  per- 
ished with  the  men  in  them.178  "A  sentence  of  death  and 
infamy ,"  says  Gibbon,  "was  often  founded  on  the  slight  and 
suspicious  evidence  of  a  child  or  a  servant, . . .  and  pederasty 
became  the  crime  of  those  to  whom  no  crime  could  be 
imputed."179 

This  attitude  towards  homosexual  practices  had  a  pro- 
found and  lasting  influence  on  European  legislation. 
Throughout  the  Middle  Ages  and  later,  Christian  law- 
givers thought  that  nothing  but  a  painful  death  in  the 
flames  could  atone  for  the  sinful  act.180  In  England  Fleta 
speaks  of  the  offender  being  buried  alive;181  but  we  are 


SEXUAL    CUSTOMS    AND    SOCIAL    PRACTICE      540 

elsewhere  told  that  burning  was  the  due  punishment.182 
As  unnatural  intercourse,  however,  was  a  subject  for  eccle- 
siastical cognizance,  capital  punishment  could  not  be  in- 
flicted on  the  criminal  unless  the  Church  relinquished  him 
to  the  secular  arm;  and  it  seems  very  doubtful  whether  sh<: 
did  relinquish  him.  Sir  Frederick  Pollack  and  Professoi 
Maitland  consider  that  the  statute  of  1533,  which  makes  sod- 
omy a  felony,  affords  an  almost  sufficient  proof  that  the 
temporal  courts  had  not  punished  it,  and  that  no  one  had 
been  put  to  death  for  it  for  a  very  long  time  past.183  It  was 
said  that  the  punishment  for  this  crime — which  the  English 
law,  in  its  very  indictments,  treats  as  a  crime  not  fit  to  br 
named 184 — was  determined  to  be  capital  by  "the  voice  ol 
nature  and  of  reason,  and  the  express  law  of  God"; 185  and 
it  remained  so  till  i86i,18G  although  in  practice  the  extreme 
punishment  was  not  inflicted.187  In  France  persons  were 
actually  burned  for  this  crime  in  the  middle  and  latter  part 
of  the  eighteenth  century.188  But  in  this,  as  in  so  many  other 
respects,  the  rationalistic  movement  of  that  age  brought 
about  a  change.189  To  punish  sodomy  with  death,  it  was 
said,  is  atrocious;  when  unconnected  with  violence,  the  law 
ought  to  take  no  notice  of  it  at  all.  It  does  not  violate  an) 
other  person's  right,  its  influence  on  society  is  merely  in 
direct,  like  that  of  drunkenness  and  free  love;  it  is  a  dis 
gusting  vice,  but  its  only  proper  punishment  is  contempt.19* 
This  view  was  adopted  by  the  French  "Code  penal,"  ac> 
cording  to  which  homosexual  practices  in  private,  between 
two  consenting  adult  parties,  whether  men  or  women,  arc 
absolutely  unpunished.  The  homosexual  act  is  treated  as  a 
crime  only  when  it  implies  an  outrage  on  public  decency,  or 
when  there  is  violence  or  absence  of  consent,  or  when  one 
of  the  parties  is  under  age  or  unable  to  give  valid  consent.191 
This  method  of  dealing  with  homosexuality  has  been  fol- 
lowed by  the  legislators  of  various  European  countries,1*2 
and  in  those  where  the  law  still  treats  the  act  in  question 
per  se  as  a  penal  offense,  notably  in  Germany,  a  propaganda 
in  favor  of  its  alteration  is  carried  on  with  the  support  of 


550  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

many  men  of  scientific  eminence.  This  changed  attitude  of 
the  law  towards  homosexual  intercourse  undoubtedly  in- 
dicates a  change  of  moral  opinions.  Though  it  is  impossible 
to  measure  exactly  the  degree  of  moral  condemnation,  I 
suppose  that  few  persons  nowadays  attach  to  it  the  same 
enormity  of  guilt  as  did  our  forefathers.  And  the  question 
has  even  been  put  whether  morality  has  anything  at  all  to 
do  with  a  sexual  act,  committed  by  the  mutual  consent  of 
two  adult  individuals,  which  is  productive  of  no  offspring, 
and  which  on  the  whole  concerns  the  welfare  of  nobody  but 
the  parties  themselves.193 

From  this  review  of  the  moral  ideas  on  the  subject,  in- 
complete though  it  be,  it  appears  that  homosexual  practices 
are  very  frequently  subject  to  some  degree  of  censure,  though 
the  degree  varies  extremely.  This  censure  is  no  doubt,  in 
the  first  place,  due  to  that  feeling  of  aversion  or  disgust 
which  the  idea  of  homosexual  intercourse  tends  to  call  forth 
ui  normally  constituted  adult  individuals  whose  sexual  in- 
stincts have  developed  under  normal  conditions.  I  presume 
that  nobody  will  deny  the  general  prevalence  of  such  a 
tendency.  It  corresponds  to  that  instinctive  repugnance  to 
sexual  connections  with  women  which  is  so  frequently 
found  in  congenital  inverts;  whilst  that  particular  form  of 
it  with  which  legislators  have  chiefly  busied  themselves 
evokes,  in  addition,  a  physical  disgust  of  its  own.  And  in  a 
society  where  the  large  majority  of  people  are  endowed  with 
normal  sexual  desires  their  aversion  to  homosexuality  easily 
develops  into  moral  censure  and  finds  a  lasting  expression 
in  custom,  law,  or  religious  tenets.  On  the  other  hand, 
where  special  circumstances  have  given  rise  to  widely  spread 
homosexual  practices,  there  will  be  no  general  feeling  of 
disgust  even  in  the  adults,  and  the  moral  opinion  of  the 
society  will  be  modified  accordingly.  The  act  may  still  be 
condemned,  in  consequence  of  a  moral  doctrine  formed 
under  different  conditions,  or  of  the  vain  attempts  of  legis- 
lators to  check  sexual  irregularities,  or  out  of  utilitarian 
considerations;  but  such  a  condemnation  would  in  most 


SEXUAL    CUSTOMS    AND    SOCIAL    PRACTICE      551 

people  be  rather  theoretical  than  genuine.  At  the  same  time 
the  baser  forms  of  homosexual  love  may  be  strongly  disap- 
proved of  for  the  same  reasons  as  the  baser  forms  of  inter- 
course between  men  and  women;  and  the  passive  pederast 
may  be  an  object  of  contempt  on  account  of  the  feminine 
practices  to  which  he  lends  himself,  as  also  an  object  of 
hatred  on  account  of  his  reputation  for  sorcery.  We  have 
seen  that  the  effeminate  men  are  frequently  believed  to  br 
versed  in  magic; 194  their  abnormalities  readily  suggest  tha* 
they  are  endowed  with  supernatural  power,  and  they  may 
resort  to  witchcraft  as  a  substitute  for  their  lack  of  manliness 
and  physical  strength.  But  the  supernatural  qualities  or  skill 
in  magic  ascribed  to  men  who  behave  like  women  may  also, 
instead  of  causing  hatred,  make  them  honored  or  reverenced. 
It  has  been  suggested  that  the  popular  attitude  towards 
homosexuality  was  originally  an  aspect  of  economics,  a  ques- 
tion of  under-  or  over-population,  and  that  it  was  forbidden 
or  allowed  accordingly.  Dr.  Havelock  Ellis  thinks  it  probable 
that  there  is  a  certain  relationship  between  the  social  reac- 
tion against  homosexuality  and  against  infanticide:  "Where 
the  one  is  regarded  leniently  and  favorably,  there  generally 
the  other  is  also;  where  the  one  is  stamped  out,  the  other  is 
usually  stamped  out."  li)0  But  our  defective  knowledge  of  the 
opinions  of  the  various  savage  races  concerning  homo- 
sexuality hardly  warrants  such  a  conclusion;  and  if  a  con- 
nection really  does  exist  between  homosexual  practices  and 
infanticide  it  may  be  simply  due  to  the  numerical  dispro- 
portion between  the  sexes  resulting  from  the  destruction  of 
a  multitude  of  female  infants.100  On  the  other  hand,  we  are 
acquainted  with  several  facts  which  are  quite  at  variance 
with  Dr.  Ellis's  suggestion.  Among  many  Hindu  castes 
female  infanticide  has  for  ages  been  a  genuine  custom,197 
and  yet  pederasty  is  remarkably  rare  among  the  Hindus 
The  ancient  Arabs  were  addicted  to  infanticide,108  but  not 
to  homosexual  love,190  whereas  among  modern  Arabs  the 
case  is  exactly  the  reverse.  And  if  the  early  Christians 
deemed  infanticide  and  pederasty  equally  heinous  sifts,  they 


55*  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

did  so  certainly  not  because  they  were  anxious  that  the  popu- 
lation should  increase;  if  this  had  been  their  motive  they 
would  hardly  have  glorified  celibacy.  It  is  true  that  in  a  few 
£ases  the  unproductiveness  of  homosexual  love  has  been 
given  by  indigenous  writers  as  a  reason  for  its  encourage- 
ment or  condemnation.  It  was  said  that  the  Cretan  law  on 
the  subject  had  in  view  to  check  the  growth  of  population; 
but,  like  Dollinger,200  I  do  not  believe  that  this  assertion 
touches  the  real  root  of  the  matter.  More  importance  may 
be  attached  to  the  following  passage  in  Pahlavi  texts:  "He 
'.vho  is  wasting  seed  makes  a  practice  of  causing  the  death 
of  progeny;  when  the  custom  is  completely  continuous, 
which  produces  an  evil  stoppage  of  the  progress  of  the  race, 
the  creatures  have  become  annihilated;  and  certainly,  that 
action,  from  which,  when  it  is  universally  proceeding,  the 
depopulation  of  the  world  must  arise,  has  become  and  fur- 
thered the  greatest  wish  of  Aharman."  20i  I  am,  however,  of 
opinion  that  considerations  of  this  kind  have  generally 
played  only  a  subordinate,  if  any,  part  in  the  formation  of 
che  moral  opinions  concerning  homosexual  practices.  And 
it  can  certainly  not  be  admitted  that  the  severe  Jewish  law 
against  sodomy  was  simply  due  to  the  fact  that  the  en- 
largement of  the  population  was  a  strongly  felt  social  need 
among  the  Jews.202  However  much  they  condemned  celi- 
bacy, they  did  not  put  it  on  a  par  with  the  abominations  of 
Sodom.  The  excessive  sinfulness  which  was  attached  to 
homosexual  love  by  Zoroastrianism,  Hebrewism,  and  Chris- 
tianity, had  quite  a  special  foundation.  It  cannot  be  suffi- 
ciently accounted  for  either  by  utilitarian  considerations  or 
instinctive  disgust.  The  abhorrence  of  incest  is  generally  a 
much  stronger  feeling  than  the  aversion  to  homosexuality. 
Yet  in  the  very  same  chapter  of  Genesis  which  describes 
the  destruction  of  Sodom  and  Gomorrah  we  read  of  the 
incest  committed  by  the  daughters  of  Lot  with  their 
father; 208  and  according  to  the  Roman  Catholic  doctrine, 
unnatural  intercourse  is  an  even  more  heinous  sin  than 
incest  and  adultery.20*  The  fact  is  that  homosexual  prac- 


SEXUAL    CUSTOMS    AND    SOCIAL    PRACTICE      55J 

ticcs  were  intimately  associated  with  the  gravest  of  all  sins: 
unbelief,  idolatry,  or  heresy. 

According  to  Zoroastrianism,  unnatural  sin  had  been 
created  by  Angra  Mainyu.205  "Aharman,  the  wicked,  mis- 
created the  demons  and  fiends,  and  also  the  remaining  cor. 
rupted  ones,  by  his  own  unnatural  intercourse."  20°  Such 
intercourse  is  on  a  par  with  Afrasiyab,  a  Turanian  king  who 
conquered  the  Iranians  for  twelve  years; 207  with  Dahak,  a 
king  or  dynasty  who  is  said  to  have  conquered  Yim  and 
reigned  for  a  thousand  years; 208  with  Tur-i  Bradar-vakhsh, 
a  heterodox  v/izard  by  whom  the  best  men  were  put  to 
death.209  He  who  commits  unnatural  sin  is  "in  his  whole 
being  a  Daeva";  21°  and  a  Daeva-worshiper  is  not  a  bad 
Zoroastrian,  but  a  man  who  does  not  belong  to  the  Zoroas- 
trian  system,  a  foreigner,  a  non-Aryan.211  In  the  Vendidad, 
after  the  statement  that  the  voluntary  commission  of  un- 
natural sin  is  a  trespass  for  which  there  is  no  atonement 
for  ever  and  ever,  the  question  is  put,  When  is  it  so?  And 
the  answer  given  is:  If  the  sinner  be  a  professor  of  the  re- 
ligion of  Mazda,  or  one  who  has  been  taught  in  it.  If  not,  hw 
sin  is  taken  from  him,  in  case  he  makes  confession  of  the 
religion  of  Mazda  and  resolves  never  to  commit  again  such 
forbidden  deeds.212  This  is  to  say,  the  sin  is  inexpiable  if  it 
involves  a  downright  defiance  of  the  true  religion,  it  is  for 
given  if  it  is  committed  in  ignorance  of  it  and  is  followed 
by  submission.  From  all  this  it  appears  that  Zoroastrianism 
stigmatized  unnatural  intercourse  as  a  practice  of  infidels, 
as  a  sign  of  unbelief.  And  I  think  that  certain  facts  referred 
to  above  help  us  to  understand  why  it  did  so.  Not  only  have 
homosexual  practices  been  commonly  associated  with  sor- 
cery, but  such  an  association  has  formed,  and  partly  still 
forms,  an  incident  of  the  shamanistic  system  prevalent 
among  the  Asiatic  peoples  of  Turanian  stock,  and  that  it  did 
so  already  in  remote  antiquity  is  made  extremely  probable 
by  statements  which  I  have  just  quoted  from  Iforoastrian 
texts.  To  this  system  Zoroastrianism  was  naturally  furiously 


554  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

opposed,  and  the  "change  of  sex"  therefore  appeared  to  the 
Mazda  worshiper  as  a  devilish  abomination. 

So  also  the  Hebrews'  abhorrence  of  sodomy  was  largely 
due  to  their  hatred  of  a  foreign  cult.  According  to  Genesis, 
unnatural  vice  was  the  sin  of  a  people  who  were  not  the 
Lord's  people,  and  the  Levitical  legislation  represents  Ca- 
naanitish  abominations  as  the  chief  reason  v.hy  the  Canaan- 
ites  were  exterminated.213  Now  we  know  that  sodomy 
entered  as  an  clement  in  their  religion.  Besides  fydeshoth, 
or  female  prostitutes,  there  were  l^edeshim,  or  male  prosti- 
tutes, attached  to  their  temples.214  The  word  tydesh,  trans- 
lated "sodomite,"  properly  denotes  a  man  dedicated  to  a 
deity; 2l5  and  it  appears  that  such  men  were  consecrated  to 
the  mother  of  the  gods,  the  famous  Dea  Syria,  whose  priests 
or  devotees  they  were  considered  to  be.210  The  male  dev- 
otees of  this  and  other  goddesses  were  probably  in  a  posi- 
tion analogous  to  that  occupied  by  the  female  devotees  of 
certain  gods,  who  also,  as  we  have  seen,  have  developed  into 
libertines; 21T  and  the  sodomitic  acts  committed  with  these 
temple  prostitutes  may,  like  the  connections  with  priestesses, 
have  had  in  view  to  transfer  blessings  to  the  worshipers.218 
{n  Morocco  supernatural  benefits  are  expected  not  only  from 
heterosexual,  but  also  from  homosexual  intercourse  with  a 
holy  person.  The  \edeshim  arc  frequently  alluded  to  in  the 
Old  Testament,  especially  in  the  period  of  the  monarchy, 
when  rites  of  foreign  origin  made  their  way  into  both 
Israel  and  Judah.219  And  it  is  natural  that  the  Yahveh  wor- 
shiper should  regard  their  practices  with  the  utmost  horror 
as  forming  part  of  an  idolatrous  cult. 

The  Hebrew  conception  of  homosexual  love  to  some  ex- 
tent affected  Muhammedanism,  and  passed  into  Chris- 
tianity. The  notion  that  it  is  a  form  of  sacrilege  was  here 
strengthened  by  the  habits  of  the  gentiles.  St.  Paul  found 
the  abominations  of  Sodom  prevalent  among  nations  who 
had  "changed  the  truth  of  God  into  a  lie,  and  worshiped 
and  served  the  creature  more  than  the  Creator."  22°  During 
die  Middle  Ages  heretics  were  accused  of  unnatural  vice  as 


SEXUAL    CUSTOMS    AND    SOCIAL    PRACTICE      555 

a  matter  of  course.221  Indeed,  so  closely  was  sodomy  asso- 
ciated with  heresy  that  the  same  name  was  applied  to  both. 
In  "La  Coutume  de  Touraine-Anjou"  the  word  hente, 
which  is  the  ancient  form  of  heretiquc,222  seems  to  be  used 
in  the  sense  of  "sodomite"; 228  and  the  French  bougrc  (from 
the  Latin  Bulgams,  Bulgarian),  as  also  its  English  synonym, 
was  originally  a  name  given  to  a  sect  of  heretics  who  came 
from  Bulgaria  in  the  eleventh  century  and  was  afterwards 
applied  to  other  heretics,  but  at  the  same  time  it  became  the 
regular  expression  for  a  person  guilty  of  unnatural  inter- 
course.224 In  mediaeval  laws  sodomy  was  also  repeatedly 
mentioned  together  with  heresy,  and  the  punishment  was 
the  same  for  both.225  It  thus  remained  a  religious  offense 
of  the  first  order.  It  was  not  only  a  "victim  ncfandum  et 
super  omnia  detestandum,"  22G  but  it  was  one  of  the  four 
"clamantia  peccata,"  or  "crying  sins,"  227  a  "crime  dc  Majes- 
tic, vers  le  Roy  celestre." 228  Very  naturally,  therefore,  it  has 
come  to  be  regarded  with  somewhat  greater  leniency  by  law 
and  public  opinion  in  proportion  as  they  have  emancipated 
themselves  from  theological  doctrines.  And  the  fresh  light 
which  the  scientific  study  of  the  sexual  impulse  has  lately 
thrown  upon  the  subject  of  homosexuality  must  also  neces- 
sarily influence  the  moral  ideas  relating  to  it,  in  so  far  as  no 
scrutinizing  judge  can  fail  to  take  into  account  the  pressure 
which  a  power ful  non- volitional  desire  exercises  upon  an. 
agent's  will. 

NOTES 

1  Karsch,  "Padcrastie  und  Tribadic  bci  den  Ticren,"  in  Jahrbut  h  jut 
sexuellc  Zwischensttifcn,  ii,  p.  126  sq.  Havclock  Ellis,  Studies  in  the 
Psychology  of  Sex,  "Sexual  Inversion,"  p.  2  sqq. 

2Cf.  Ives,  Classification  of  Climes,  p.  49.  The  statement  that  it  is  un* 
known  among  a  certain  people  cannot  reasonably  mean  that  it  may  not 
be  practiced  in  scciet. 

8  Von  Spix  and  von  Martius,  Travels  in  Brazil,  ii,  p.  246;  von  Martius, 
Von  drm  Rechtszustande  unter  den  Uremwohnern  Brasihcns,  p.  27  sq.; 
Lomohaco,  "Suite  razze  indigene  del  Brasilc,"  in  Archivio  per  I'antropologU 
€  la  etnologia,  xix,  p.  46;  Burton,  Arabian  Nights,  x,  p.  246  (Brazilian  In- 
dians); Garcilasso  de  la  Vega,  First  Part  of  the  Royal  Commentaries  o* 
the  Yncas,  ii,  p.  441  sqq.;  Cicza  de  Leon,  "La  cronica  del  Peru  (primer* 
parte),"  cb.  49,  in  Bibliotcca  de  autores  espanoles,  xxvi,  p.  403  (Peruvian 


356  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

Indians  at  the  time  of  the  Spanish  conquest).  Ovicdo  y  Valdes,  "Sumario  dc 
la  natural  historia  de  las  Indias,"  ch.  81,  in  Biblioteca  de  autores  cspaiioles* 
xxii,  p.  508  (Isthmians).  Bancroft,  Native  Races  of  the  Pacific  States,  i,  p. 
585  (Indians  of  New  Mexico);  11,  p.  467  sq.  (Ancient  Mexicans).  Diaz  del 
Castillo,  "Conquista  de  Nueva-Espana,"  ch.  208,  in  Biblwteca  de  autores 
espanoles,  xxvi,  p.  309  (Ancient  Mexicans).  Landa,  Relacion  de  las  cosat 
de  Yucatan,  p.  178  (Ancient  Yucatans).  Nunez  Cabcza  dc  Vaca,  "Nau- 
fragios  y  relacion  de  la  jornada  que  hizo  a  la  Florida,"  ch.  26,  in  Biblwteca 
de  autores  espanoles,  xxn,  p.  538;  Coreal,  Voyages  aux  1  tides  Occidentals, 
'i  P-  33  scl-  (Indians  of  Florida).  Pcrrm  du  Lac,  Voyage  dans  les  deux 
Louisianes  et  chez  les  nations  sauvages  du  Missouri,  p.  352;  Bossu,  Travels 
Through  Louisiana,  i,  p.  303.  Hennepin,  Nouvelle  Decouvcrte  d'un  trcf 
Grand  Pays  Situe  dans  L'Amerique,  p.  219  sq.;  "La  Salle's  Last  Expedition 
and  Discoveries  in  North  America,"  in  Collections  of  the  New  York  His- 
torical Society,  ii,  p.  237  sq.;  dc  Lahontan,  Memoires  de  I'Amerique  septen- 
trionale,  p.  142  (Illinois).  Marquctte,  Recit  des  Voyages,  p.  52  sq.  (Illinois 
and  Naudowessics).  Wied-Neuwied,  Travels  in  the  Intenor  of  North  Amer- 
ica, p.  351  (Manitanes,  Mandans,  etc.).  McCoy,  History  of  Baptist  Indian 
Missions,  p.  360  sq.  (Osages).  Heriot,  Travels  Through  the  Canadas,  p. 
278;  Catlin,  North  American  Indians,  ii,  p.  214  sq.  (Sioux).  Dorsey,  "Omaha 
Sociology,"  in  Ann.  Rep.  Bur.  Ethn.,  iii,  p.  365;  James,  Expedition  from 
Pittsburgh  to  the  Roc^y  Mountains,  i.  p.  267  (Omahas).  Loskiel,  History 
of  the  Mission  of  the  United  Brethren  Among  the  Indians,  i.  p.  14  (Iroquois). 
Richardson,  Arctic  Searching  Expedition,  ii,  p.  42  (Cretcs).  Oswald,  quoted 
by  Bastian,  Der  Mensch  in  der  Geschichte,  iii,  p.  314  (Indians  of  Califor- 
nia). Holder,  in  New  Yor%  Medical  Journal,  December  7,  1889,  quoted  by 
Havelock  Ellis,  op.  tit.,  p.  9  sq.  (Indians  of  Washington  and  other  tribes 
in  the  Northwestern  United  States).  See  also  Karsch,  "Uranismus  oder 
Paderastie  und  Tnbadic  bei  den  Naturvolkcrn,"  in  Jahrbuch  jiir  sexuelle 
Iwischenstujen,  iii,  p.  122  sqq. 

4  Lafiiau,  Mcers  des  sauvages  amenquams ,  i,  pp.  603,  697,  sqq. 

5  Dall,  Alaska,  p.  402;  Bancroft,  op.  cit.,  i,  p.  92;  Waltz,  Anthropologie 
der  NaturvoU{er,  iii,  p.  314  (Aleuts);  von  Langsdorf,  Voyages  and  Travels, 
ri,  p.  48  (Natives  of  Oonalaska);  Stcllcr,  Kamtschatl^a,  p.  289,  n.a.;  Gcorgi, 
Russia,  hi,  p.  132  sq.  (Kamchadalcs). 

6Davydow,  quoted  by  Ilolmberg,  "Ethnographische  Skizzen  iibcr  die 
volker  des  russischen  Amerika,"  in  Acta  Soc.  Scientiarttm  Fennicee,  iv,  p. 
400  sq.  Lisiansky,  Voyage  Round  the  World,  p.  109.  Von  Langsdorf,  op. 
cit.,  ii.  p.  64.  Sauer,  Billing's  Expedition  to  the  Northern  Parts  of  Russia, 
p.  176.  Sarytschcw,  "Voyage  of  Discovery  to  the  North-East  of  Siberia,"  in 
Collection  of  Modern  and  Contemporary  Voyages,  vi,  p.  16. 

7  Bogoras,  quoted  by  DemidofT,  Shooting  Trip  to  Kamchatka,  p.  74  sq. 

8  Jochelson,  Koryak  Religion  and  Myth,  pp.  52,  53,  n.  3. 

9  Ibid.,  op.  cit.,  p.  52  sq. 

10  Wilken,  "Plechtigheden  en  gcbruiken  bij  vcrlovingen  en  hawclijkea 
bij  de  volken  van  den  Indischen  Archipel,"  in  Bijdragen  tot  de  taalland-  en 
volfantynde  van  Ncderlandsch-lndie,  xxxiii  (ser.  v,  vol.  iv),  p.  457  tq* 

11  Crawford,  History  of  the  Indian  Archipelago,  iii,  p.   139.  Marsdcn,. 
History  of  Sumatra,  p.  261. 

12  Junghuhn,  Die  Battalander  auf  Sumatra,  ii,  p.  157,  n. 


SEXUAL    CUSTOMS    AND    SOCIAL    PRACTICE      557 

13  Hardeland,  Dajackjsch-deutschcs  Wortcrbuch,  p.  53  sq.  Schwancr, 
"Borneo,  i,  p.  186.  Pcrclaer,  Ethnographischc  beschnjving  dcr  Dajat^s,  p. 
32. 

14Haddon,  "Ethnography  of  the  Western  Tribe  of  Torres  Straits,"  in 
Jour.  Anthr.  Inst.,  xix,  p.  315. 

15  Seligmann,  "Sexual  Inversion  Among  Primitive  Races,"  in  The  Alien" 
tst  and  Neurologist,  xxni,  p.  3  sqq. 

10  Bcardmorc,  "Natives  of  Mowat,  Daudai,  New  Guinea,"  in  Jour.  Anthr. 
Inst.,  MX,  p.  464.  Iladdon,  ibid.,  xix,  p.  315. 

17  Hcrnsheim,  Bcttrag  zur  Sprache  der  Mar  shall -Inseln,  p.  40.  A  different 
opinion  is  expressed  by  Senft,  in  Stcmmetz,  Rechtsverhaltmsse  von  ftnge- 
botenen  V oilman  in  Africa  und  Ozeamen,  p.  437. 

18Rcmy,  Ka  Moolch  Hawaii,  p.  xlni. 

10Turnbull,  Vcvagc  Round  the  WoilJ,  p.  382.  Sec:  Wilson,  Misvonar) 
Voyage  to  the  S.  Pacific,  pp.  333,  361;  Ellis,  Polynesian  Researches,  i,  pp. 
246,  258. 

20Folcy,  "Sur  Ics  habitations  et  Ics  mocurs  des  Nco-Cnlcdonicns,"  in 
Bull.  Soc.  d' An/hi  op.  Pans,  scr.  iii,  vol.  ii,  p.  606.  See:  de  Rochas,  Nouvcllf 
Calcdvnie,  p.  .235. 

21  Hardman,  "Notes  on  Some  Habits  and  Customs  of  the  Natives  of 
the  Kimbcrley  District,"  in  Proceed.  Roy.  Irish  Academy,  ser.  iii,  vol.  L 
p.  74. 

22 /£/</.,  pp.  7i»73. 

23  Purccll,  "Rues  and  Customs  of  Australian  Aborigines,"  in  Verhandl. 
Berliner  Gcsclhth.  Anthrop.,  1893,  p.  287. 

24  Ravcnscroft,  "Some  Habits  and  Customs  of  the  Chingalce  Tribe,"  in 
Ttans.  Roy.  Soc.  South  Aushalia,  xv,  p.  122.  I  am  indebted  to  Mr.  N.  W. 
Thomas  for  drawing  my  attention  to  these  statements. 

25  Howitt,  "Some  Australian  Ceremonies  of  Initiation,"  in  Jour.  Anthr. 
Inst.,  xm,  p.  450. 

-°  Lasnct,  in  Annales  d' hygiene  et  de  medicine  coloniales,  1899,  p.  494, 
quoted  by  Havclock  Ellis,  op.  cit.,  p.  10.  Cf.  Rencurcl,  in  Annales  d'hygienc, 
1900,  p.  562,  quoted  ibid.,  p.  u  sq.  See:  Leguevcl  dc  Lacombe,  Voyage 
&  Madagascar,  i,  p.  97  sq.  Pederasty  prevails  to  some  extent  in  the  island 
of  Nossi-Be,  close  to  Madagascar,  and  is  very  common  at  Ankisimane,  op- 
posite to  it,  on  Jassandava  Bay  (Walter,  in  Stcmmetz,  Rechtsvcthdltnisse, 
P-  376). 

27  De  Flacourt,  Histoire  de  la  grande  isle  Madagascar,  p.  86. 

28  Rautancn,  in  Sicmmctz,  Rechtsverhaltmsse,  p.  333. 
20  Nicole,  ibid.,  p.  in. 

™lbid.,  p.  38. 

81Munzmger,  Ostafnlytnische  Studicn,  p.  525  (Barea  and  Kunima). 
Baumann,  "Contrarc  Sexual -Erschemungen  bei  der  Negcr-Bcvolkerung 
Zanzibars,"  in  Vcrhandl.  der  Berliner  Gesellsch.  fur  Ant hro polo gie,  1899, 
p.  668.  Felkm,  "Notes  on  the  Waganda  Tribe  of  Central  Atrica,"  in 
Proceed.  Roy.  Soc.  Edinburgh,  xiii,  p.  723.  Johnston,  British  Central  Africa, 
p.  404  (Bakongo).  Monrad,  Skildring  of  Guinea-Kystcn,  p.  57  (Negroes 
of  Accra).  Torday  and  Joyce,  "Ethnography  of  the  Ba-Mbala,"  in  lour 
Anthr.  lnst.f  xxxv,  p.  410.  Nicole,  in  Stcinmctz,  Rechtsvcrhaltnisx,  p.  in 
(Muhammcdan  Negroes).  Tcllicr,  ibid.,  p.  159  (Kreis  Kita  in  the  French 


558  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

Soudan).  Bcverlcy,  ibid.,  p.  210  (Wagogo).  Kraft,  ibid.,  p.  288   (Wapo-' 
komo). 

82  Baumann,  in  Verhandl.  Berliner  Gesellsch.  Anthrop.,  1899,  P-  668,  sq. 

83  Burckhardt,  Travels  in  Nubia,  p.  135. 
34D'Escayrac  de  Lautre,  Afrif^amsche  Witste,  p.  93. 

86  Burckhardt,  Travels  in  Arabia,  i,  p.  364.  Sec  also  Von  Krcmcr,  Cul* 
ttirgeschichte  des  Orients,  ii,  p.  269. 

36  Burton,  Arabian  Nights,  x,  p.  232. 

87  Kovalcwsky,  Coutume  contcmporaine,  p.  340. 

38  Polak,  "Die  Prostitution  in  Persien,"  in  Wiener  Medizinische  Wochcn- 
schnft,  xi,  p.  627  sqq.  Idem,  Persien,  i,  p.  237.  Burton,  Arabian  Nights, 
x,  p.  233  sq.  Wilson,  Persian  Life  and  Customs,  p.  229. 

89  Malcolm,  Sketch  of  the  Si^hs,  p.  140.  Havelock  Ellis,  op.  cit.,  p.  5, 
n.  2.  Burton,  Arabian  Nights,  x,  p.  236. 

40  Wilson,  Abode  of  Snow,  p.  420.  Burton,  Arabian  Nights,  x,  p.  236. 

41  Stavonnus,  Voyages  to  the  East-Indies,  i,  p.  456.  Fryer,  New  Account 
of  East-India,  p.  97.  Chevers,  Manual  of  Medical  Jurisprudence  for  India, 
p.  705. 

42  Chevers,  op.  cit.,  p.  708. 

43  Indo-Chinese  Gleaner,  hi,  p.  193.  Wells  Williams,  The  Middle  King- 
Horn,  i,  p.  836.  Matignon,  "Deux  mots  sur  la  pederastie  en  Chine,"  in 
Archives  d'anthropologie  cnminelle,  xiv,  p.  38  sqq.  Karsch,  Das  gleich- 
qeschlechtliche  Lcben  der  Ostasiaten,  p.  6  sqq. 

44  Jways,  "Nan  sho  k,"  in  Jahrbiich  fur  sexuelle  Zwischenstufen,  iv,  pp.. 
266,  268,  270.  Karsch,  op.  cit.,  p.  71  sqq. 

45  Dionysius  of  Hahcarnassus,  Antiquitates  Romane,  vii.,  p.  2.  Atheneeus, 
Deipnosophistce,  xii,  p.  518   (Etruscans).  Rein,  Criminalrccht  der  Romer, 
0.  863. 

46  Polybius,  Histories,  xxxii,  n,  p.  5. 

47  Buret,  La  syphilis  aujoitrd'hui  et  chez  les  anciens,  p.  1 97  sqq.  Catullus,. 
Carmina,  Ixi  ("In  Nuptias  Julia?  et  Mania"),  p.  128  sqq.  Cf.  Martial,  Epi- 
grammata,  viii,  44,  p.  16  sq. 

48  Juvenal,  Satiret,  h,  p.  117  sqq.  Martial,  op.  cit.,  xii,  p.  42. 

49  Oiodorus   Siculus,   Bibliotheca   histonca,   vol.   xxxn,   p.   7.   Aristotle* 
folifca,  ii,  9,  p.  1269  b. 

00  "Spuren  von  Kontrarsexualitat  bei  den  alien  Skandinaviern,"  in  ]ahr- 
ou<h  fur  sexuelle  Zwischenstufen,  iv,  p.  244  sqq. 

*x  Hahn,  Albanesische,  Studien,  i,  p.  168. 

152  Karsch,  in  Jahrbuch  fur  sexuelle  Zwtschenstufen,  in,  p.  85  sqq.  Ploss- 
Uirtels,  Das  Weib,  i,  p.  517  sqq.  Von  KrafTt-Ebing,  Psychopathia  scxualis* 
T.  278  sqq.  Moll,  Die  Contrdre  Sexualempfindung,  p.  247  sqq.  Havelock 
"His,  op.  cit.,  p.  118  sqq. 

53  Magalhanes  de  Gandavo,  Hisfoire  de  la  Province  de  Sancta-Cruz,  p. 
,u6  sq. 

54Dall,  op.  cit.,  p.  139. 

B5Fritsch,  quoted  by  Karsch,  m  Jahrbuch  fur  sexuelle  Zwischenstufcn, 
iii,  p.  87  sq. 

58  Fritsch,  Die  Eingeborenen  Siid- Africa's,  p.  227.  Cf.  Schinz,  Deutsch* 
Sudwest- Africa,  pp.  173,  177. 

87  Baumann,  in  Verhandl.  Berliner  Gesellsch.  Anthrop.,  1889,  p.  66S 


SEXUAL    CUSTOMS    AND    SOCIAL    PRACTICE      ^5$ 

B8Havelock  Ellis,  op.  ctt.,  p.  123. 

69  Jacobs,  Ecnigen  ttjd  onder  de  Baliers,  p.  134  sq. 
60Havelock  Ellis,  op.  tit.,  p.  124  sq. 

61  Sec  ibid.,  p.  121  sq. 

62  Another  icason  for  such  practices  is  given  by  Mr.  Beardmore  (in  Jour. 
Anthrop.  ln*t.,  xix,  p.  464),  with  reference  to  the  Papuans  of  Mowat.  He 
says  that  they  indulge  in  sodomy  because  too  great  increase  of  population 
is  undesircd  amongst  the  younger  portion  of  the  married  people.  Cf.  infra. 
p.  484  sqq. 

03  Havclock  Ellis,  op.  at.,  p.  I. 

04  Jochclson,  op.  cit.,  p.  52  sq. 

65  Holder,  quoted  by  Havclock  Ellis,  op.  cit.,  p.  9  sq. 

66  Baumann,  in  Vcrhandl.  Bet  liner  Gesellsch.  Anthrop.,  1899,  P-  668  sq. 

07  Cf.  Fere,  L'tnstinct  scxucl,  quoted  by  Havclock  Ellis,  op.  cit.,  p.  41. 

08  James,  V)  maples  of  Psychology,  11,  p.  439.  See  also  Ivcs,  op.  cit.,  p. 
56  sqq. 

00  Dr  Dcssoir  ("Zur  Psychologic  der  Vita  sexualis,"  in  Allgemeine  Zcit- 
schnft  fur  Psychuttne,  i,  p.  942)  even  goes  so  far  as  to  conclude  that  "an 
undilTciciiliaiul  M  \iul  icehng  is  normal,  on  the  average,  during  the  first 
years  of  puberty."  But  this  is  certainly  an  exaggeration  (cf.  Havclock  Ellis. 
op.  cit.,  p.  47  sq.}. 

70  Karsch,  in  /<//;;  bitch  ftir  scxuelle  Zwischenstufen,  li,  p.  126  sqq.  Have- 
lock  Ellis,  op.  cit.,  p   2  sq. 

71  Ha\  clock  Ellis,  op.  cit.,  p.  2. 

72  Von  den  Stcinen,  Unter  den  NaturvolJ^etn  Zential-Biasilicns,  p.  502 
78  Ellis,  Polynesian  Reseat ches,  i,  p.  257  sq. 

74  Matignon,  in  Archives  d'anthropologie  cnminelle,  xiv,  p.  42.  Karsch, 
op.^ut.,  p.  32  sqq. 

75  Waitz,    Anthiopologie    der   N  at  ui  voider,   ni,    p.    113.    Bastian,    Der 
Mensch  in  der  Gcschichte,  iii,  p.  305   (Dohomans). 

70  Supra,  n,  p.  462.  Karsch,  op.  cit.,  pp.  6  (China),  76  sqq.  (Japan),  132 
(Corca). 

77  Sec     Voltaire,     Dictionnairc     philosophique,     "Amour     Socratique" 
(CEuvrcs,  vn,  p.  82);  Burct,  Syphilis  in  the  Middle  Ages  and  in  Modern 
Times,  p.  88  sq. 

78  Cf.  Havclock  Ellis,  op.  cit.,  p.  5. 

70  Freeman,  Reign  of  William  Rufits,  i,  p.  1 59. 

80Polak,  in  Wiener  Mcdizinische  Wochenschnft,  xi,  p.  628. 

81  Marquctte,  op.  cit.,  p.  53   (Illinois).  Pcrnn  du  Lac,  Voyage  dans  lef 
deux  Louisianes  et  chez  les  nations  sauvages  du  Missouri,  p.  352.  Cf.  Nunc/ 
Cabeza  dc  Vaca,  /or.  cit.,  p.  538   (concerning  the  Indians  of  Florida):— 
", . .  tiran  arco  y  llcvan  muv  gran  carga." 

82  Stein mctz,  Rcchtsverhdltnissc,  p.  38. 

83  Havclock  Ellis,  op.  cit.,  p.  3. 

84  KrafTt-Ebing,  op.  cit.,  p.  211  sq. 

85  Moll,  op.  tit.,  p.  157  sqq. 

80  Havclock  Ellis,  op.  cit.,  p.  50  sq.  Cf.  ibid.,  p.  181  sqq. 

87  Ibid.,  p.  3. 

88  Cf.  Norman,  "Sexual  Perversion,"  in  Tuke'<  Dictionary  of  Psychohgi. 
cal  Medicine,  ii,  p.  1156. 

89Havelock  Ellis,  op.  tit.,  p.  191. 


560  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

90  Dr.  Havelock  Ellis  also  admits  (op.  cit.,  p.  190)  that  if  in  ea*ly  life 
the  sexual  instincts  are  less  definitely  determined  than  when  adolescence 
is  complete)  "it  is  conceivable,  though  unproved,  that  a  very  strong  im- 
pression, acting  even  on  a  normal  organism,  may  cause  arrest  of  sexual 
development  on  the  psychic  side.  It  is  a  question,"  he  adds,  "I  am  not  in 
a  position  to  settle." 

91  Voltaire,     Dictionnairc    Philosophique,     art.     "Amour     Socratique," 
(CEuvres,  vii,  p.  81).  Cf.  Ovid,  Metamorphoses,  x,  p.  84  seq. 

92  Scrvius,  In    Vergilti  SEneidos,  x,  p.  325.  For  the  whole  subject  of 
pederasty  among  the  Dorians  see  Mueller,  History  and  Antiquities  of  the 
Doric  Race,  ii,  p.  307  sq. 

08  &lian,  Vana  historia,  iii,  p.  10. 

94  Mueller,  op.  cit.,  ii,  p.  308. 

95  Xenophon,  Historia  Graca,  iv,  p.  8. 

96  Plutarch,  Lycurgus,  xxv,  p.  i. 

97  Ibid.,  xviii,  p.  8.  /Elian,  op.  cit.,  iii,  p.  10. 

08 -Lilian,  op.  cit.t  iii,  p.  9.  Athenzus,  Dcipnosophistx,  xiii,  77,  p.  60 1. 
99  Cf.  Symonds,   "Die  Homosexualitat  in  Griechenland,"  in  Havelock 
Ellis  and  Symonds,  Das  Kontrare  Geschlechtsgejuhl,  p.  55. 
100 /£«</.,  p.  1 1 6.  Dollmger,  The  Gentile  and  the  ]ew,  ii,  p.  244. 

101  Plato,  Leges,  i,  p.  636.  Cf.  Plutarch,  Atnatonus,  v,  p.  9. 

102  Plato,  Symposium,  p.  192. 

103  "State  of  Female  Society  in  Greece,"  in  Quarterly  Review,  xxii,  p. 
172  sqq.  Lecky,  History  of  European  Morals,  ii,  p.  287.  Dolhnger,  op.  cit., 
ii,  p.  234. 

104  Plato,  Symposium,  p.  181.  That  the  low  state  of  the  Greek  women 
was  instrumental  to  pederasty  has  been  pointed  out  by  Dollmger  (op.  cit., 
j,  p.  244)  and  Symonds  (he.  cit.,  pp.  77,  100,  101,  116  sqq.). 

105  Plato,  Symposium,  p.  181. 

106  Matignon,  in  Archives  d'anthropologie  criminelle,  xiv,  p.  41. 

107  Junghuhn,  op.  cit.,  ii,  p.  157,  n. 
108Schwaner,  op.  cit.,  i,  p.  186. 

109  Ellis,  Polynesian  Researches,  i,  p.  258.  Cf.  Moerenhout,  Voyages  aux 
?tt  du  Grand  Ocean,  ii,  p.  167  sq. 

110  De  Flacourt,  op.  cit.,  p.  86. 

111  Walter,  in  Steinmetz,  Rechtsverhaltnisse,  p.  376. 

112  Veniaminof,  quoted  by  Petroff,  Report  on  Alaska,  p.  158. 

118  Ibid.,  p.  158: — "The  offender  desirous  of  unburdening  himself  selected 
a  time  when  the  sun  was  clear  and  unobscured;  he  picked  up  certain  weeds 
and  carried  them  about  his  person;  then  deposited  them  and  threw  his  sin 
upon  them,  calling  the  sun  as  a  witness,  and,  when  he  had  eased  his  heart 
of  all  that  had  weighed  upon  it,  he  threw  the  grass  or  weeds  into  the  fire, 
And  after  that  considered  himself  cleansed  of  his  sin.*' 

114Davydow,  quoted  by  Holmbcrg,  loc.  cit.,  p.  400  sq.  Lisianski,  op. 
cit.,  p.  199. 

115  Bogoras,  quoted  by  Demidoff,  op.  cit.,  p.  75.  Jochclson,  op.  cit.,  p. 
52  sq. 

"*ie  Marquette,  op.  cit.,  p.  53  sq. 

117  Catlin,  North  American  Indians,  ii,  p.  214  sq. 

118  "La  Salle's  Last  Expedition  in  North  America,"  in  Collections  of  the 
YorJ(  Historical  Society,  ii,  p.  238  (Illinois).  Porrin  du  Lac,  Voytge 


SEXUAL    CUSTOMS    AND    SOCIAL    PRACTICE      jfal 

dans  les  devx  Louisiana  ct  chez  les  nations  sauvages  du  Missouri,  p.  352. 
Bossu,  op.  cit.,  i,  p.  303  (Choctaws).  Ovicdo  y  Valdes,  he.  ctt.,  p.  508  (Isth- 
mians/. Von  Martius,  Von  dem  Rechtszustande  unter  d.  Urein-wohnern 
Brasiliens,  p.  28  (Guaycurius). 

110Cieza  de  Leon,  Scgunda  pane  de  la  Cronica  del  Peru,  ch.  25,  p.  99. 
See  also  idem,  Cronica  del  Peru  (primera  partc),  ch.  64.  Biblioteca  de 
ait  feres  espanoles,  xxvi,  p.  416  sq.). 

120  Idem,  Segnnda  pane  de  la  Cronica  del  Peni,  ch.  25,  p.  98.  See  also 
Garcilasso  dc  la  Vega,  op.  cit.,  ii,  p.  132. 

1 21  Las  Casas,  quoted  by  Bancroft,  op.  ctt.,  ii,  p.  467  sq.  Cf.  ibid.,  ii,  p. 

677- 

122Clavigero,  History  of  Mexico,  i,  p.  3*57. 

123  Squicr,  "Archaeology  and  Ethnology  of  Nicaragua,"  in  Trans.  Ameri- 
can Ethn.  Soc.,  in,  pt.  i,  p.  128. 

124  Bancroft,  op.  ctt.,  ii,  p.  677. 

120  Piedrahita,  Histona  general  de  las  conquistas  del  nuevo  reyno  dt 
Granada,  p.  46. 

120  See  supra,  i,  pp.  186,  195. 

127Kubary,  "Die  Vcrbrcchcn  und  das  Strafverfahren  auf  den  Pelau- 
Jnseln,"  in  Origtnal-Mitthctlttngen  aus  der  ethnologischen  Abthetlung  dtr 
l(pnighchen  Museen  zu  Berlin,  i,  p.  84. 

128  Kovalewsky,  Coutume  contemporaine,  p.  340. 

129Merker,  Die  Masai,  p.  208.  The  Masai,  however,  slaughter  at  oner 
any  bullock  or  he-goat  which  is  noticed  to  practice  unnatural  intercourse 
for  fear  lest  otherwise  their  herds  should  be  visited  by  a  plague  as  a  divine 
punishment  (ibid.,  p.  159). 

iso  Warner,  in  Maclean,  Compendium  of  Kafir  Laws,  p.  62. 

181  Rautancn,  in  Stcmmetz,  Rechsverhdltnisse ;  p.   333  sq. 

132  Lang,  ibid.,  p.  232. 

IBS  Felkin,  in  Proceed.  Roy.  Soc.  Edinburgh,  xiii,  p.  723. 

134  Monrad,  op.  cit.,  p.  57. 

188  Burckhardt,  Travels  in  Nubia,  p.  135. 
t36  Koran,  iv,  p.  20. 

187  Sachau,  Muhammedanisches  Recht  nach  Schafitischer  Lehrc,  pp.  809, 
818: — "Sodomita  si  rnuhsan  (that  is,  a  married  person  in  possession  of  full 
civic  rights)  est  punitur  lapidatione,  si  non  est  muhsan  punitur  et  flagel- 
latione  ct  cxsilio." 

138  Burton,  Arabian  Nights,  x,  p.  224. 

189  Polak,  in  Wiener  Medizinische  Wochenschrift,  xi,  p.  628  sq. 

140  Baumann,  in  Verhandl.  Berliner  Gesellsch.  Anthrop.,  1899,  p.  669. 

141  Chevers,  op.  cit.,  p.  708.  Burton,  Arabian  Nights,  x,  p.  237. 

142  Burton,  Arabian  Nights,  x,  p.  222  sq. 

143  Laws  of  Manu,  xi,  p.  175.  Cf.  Institutes  of  Vishnu,  liii,  p.  4;  Apas- 
tamba,  i,  9,  26,  p.  7;  Gautama,  xxv,  p.  7. 

144  Alabaster,  Notes  and  Commentaries  on  Chinese  Criminal  Lawt  p.  367 
$qq.  Ta  Tsmg  Leu  Lee,  Appendix,  no.  xxxii,  p.  570. 

145  Alabaster,  op.  cit.,  p.  369. 

148  Matignon,  in  Archives  d'anthropologie  criminelle,  xiv,  pp.  42,  43,  52. 

147  Ibid.,  p.  44. 

148  Karsch,  op.  cit.,  p.  99. 

148  Jwaya,  in  Jahrbuch  fur  sexueUe  Zwischenstujen,  iv,  pp.  266,  279  if 


562  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

150  Tacitus,  Germania,  p.  12. 

i3i  "Spuren  von  Kontrarscxualitat,  bci  den  alten  Skandinavicrn — Mitteil* 
ungen  cincs  norwcgischcn  Gclchrtcn,"  in  Jahrbuch  fur  sexuelle  Zwischen- 
stufcn,  iv,  pp.  245,  256  sqq. 

152  Xenophon,  Laced eemoniorum  respublica,  ii,  p.  13.  Maximus  Tyrius, 
Dissertationes,  xxv,  p.  4;  xxvi,  p.  9. 

158  yEschines,  Contra  Timarchum,  p.  21. 

15*>Elian,  Vana  histona,  lii,  p.  10.  Cf.  Plato,  Leges,  viii,  p.  910. 

155  ./Elian,  op.  cit.,  hi,  p.  12.  Cf.  Maximus  Tyrius,  op.  cit.,  xxvi,  p.  8. 

15dCf.  Symonds,  loc.  cit.,  p.  92  sqq. 

167  Plato,  Symposium,  p.  178. 

™*lbid.,  p.  182. 

158  Hicronymus,  the  Peripatetic,  referred  to  by  Athenzus,  op.  cit.,  xiii* 
78,  p.  602.  See  also  Maximus  Tyrius,  op.  cit.,  xxiv,  p.  2. 

160  Plutarch,  Amatoritts,  xvii,  p.  14. 

161  Plato,  Symposium,  p.  178. 

162  Herodotus,  i,  p.  135. 

103  Ammamanus  Marccllinus  says  (xxiii,  p.  76)  that  the  inhabitants  of 
Persia  were  free  from  pederasty.  But  see  also  Scxtus  Empincus,  Pyrrhoniee 
hypotyposes,  i,  p.  152. 

164  Vendiddd,  i,  p.  12;  vii,  p.  27. 

165  Darmesteter,  in  Sacred  Bool(S  of  the  East,  Iv,  p.  Ixxxvi. 

166  Vendiddd,  viii,  p.  26. 

167  Dind-i  Mainog-i  Khirad,  xxxvi,  p.  i  sqq. 

168  Sad  Dar,  ix,  p.  2  sqq. 

109  Leviticus,  xvm:  22,  24  sqq.;  xx:  13. 

170  Romans,  i:  26  sq. 

171  Tertulhan,  DC  pudicitia,  p.  4  (Migne,  Patrologiee  cursus,  ii,  p.  987). 

172  St.  Basil,  quoted  by  Bingham,  Worlds,  vi,  p.  432  sq. 

173  Concilium  Elibettianutn,  ch.  71  (Labbe-Mansi,  Sacrorum  Conciliotum 
collcctio,  ii,  p.  17). 

174  Juvenal,  Satirte,  ii,  p.  43  sq.  Valerius  Maximus,  Facta  dictaque  me- 
morabilia, vi,  i,  p.  7.  Qumtilian,  Instiiutio  oratoria,  iv,  2,  p.  69: — "Dcccm 
milia,  quae  poena  stupratori  constituta  est,  dabit."  Christ,  Hist.  Legis  Sea- 
finite,  quoted  by  Dollingcr,  op.  cit.,  ii,  p.  274.  Rein,  Criminalrecht  der 
Romer,  p.  865  sq.  Bingham,  op.  cit.,  vi,  p.  433  sqq.  Mommscn,  Romisches 
Strafrccht,  p.  703  sq. 

175Mommsen,  op.  cit.,  p.  704.  Rein,  op.  cit.,  p.  866.  The  passage  in 
Digesta,  xlvni,  5,  35,  p.  r,  refers  to  stuprum  independently  of  the  sex  of 
the  victim. 

176  Codex  Theodosiantis,  ix,  pp.  7,  3.  Codex  Justinianus,  ix,  pp.  9,  30. 

3  7"  Codex  Theodosianus,  ix,  pp.  7,  6. 

178  Novellee,  p.  TJ.  Sec  also  //>///.,  p.  141,  and  Institutiones,  iv,  pp.  18,  4. 

170  Gibbon,  History  of  the  Decline  and  Fall  of  the  Roman  Empire, 
v,  p.  3^3- 

180  Du  Boys,  Histoire  du  droit  criminel  de  I'Espagne,  pp.  93,  403. 
Let  Estabhssements  de  Saint  Louis,  i,  p.  90;  ii,  p.  147.  Bcaumanoir,  Cou- 
tumes  du  beauvoisis,  xxx,  II;  vol.  i,  p.  413.  Montesquieu,  De  I' esprit  des 
foif,  xii,  p.  6  ((Euvrcs,  p.  283).  Hume,  Commentaries  on  the  Law  of 
Scotland,  ii,  p.  335;  Pitcairn,  Criminal  Trials  in  Scotland,  ii,  p.  491,  n.  2. 
Clarus,  Practica  criminalis,  book  v.  ...  In  the  beginning  of  the  nineteenth 


SEXUAL    CUSTOMS    AND    SOCIAL    PRACTICE      563 

century  sodomy  was  still  nominally  subject  to  capital  punishment  by 
burning  in  Bavaria  (von  Feuerbach,  Kritik  dcs  Kleinschrodischen  £»/- 
wurj's  zn  cinem  peinlichen  Gcsctzbuchc  fur  die  Chur-Pfalz-Baynschen 
Staaten,  ii,  p.  13),  and  in  Spain  as  late  as  1843  (Du  Boys,  op.  cit.,  p.  721). 

181  Fleta,  i,  37*  3,  P-  84- 

182  Britton,  i,  p.  10;  vol.  i,  p.  42. 

183  Pollock  and  Maitland,  History  of  English  Law  Before  the  Time  of 
Edward  1,  ii,  p.  556  sq. 

184  Coke,  T hit  el  Pan  of  the  Institutes  of  the  Laws  of  England,  p.  58 
et  seq.  Blackstone,   Commentaries  on  the  Laws  of  England,  iv,  p.  218. 

185  Blackstone,  op.  at.,  iv,  p.  218. 

186  Stephen,  History  of  the  Criminal  Law  of  England,  i,  p.  475. 

187  Blackstone,  op.  at.,  iv,  p.  218. 

188  Dcsmazc,  Penalties  anciennes,  p.  211.  Havclock  Ellis,  op,  cit.,  p.  207. 

189  Numd  Prartonus,   he.  cit.,  p.    121    sqq. 

190  Note  of  the  editors  of  Kehl's  edition  of  Voltaire's  Pnx  de  la  justice 
et  de  I'humanitc,  in  (Euvrcs  completes,  v.  437,  n.  2. 

101  Code  Penal,  330  sqq.  Cf.  Chevalier,  L 'inversion  sexuelle,  p.  431  sqq* 
Havelock  Lllis,  op.  cit.,  p.  207  sq. 

19- Numa  Prxtonus,  he.  cit.,  pp.  131-133,  143  sqq. 

103  See,  e.g.  Bax,  Ethics  of  Socialism,  p.  126. 

1  °4  Sec  also  Bastian,  in  Zeitschr.  f.  Ethnol.  i,  88  sq.  Speaking  o£  the 
witches  of  Fez,  Leo  Afncanus  says  (History  and  Description  of  Ajricat 
ii,  p.  458)  that  "they  haue  a  damnable  custome  to  commit  vulawfui* 
Vencrie  among  themselves."  Among  the  Patagonians,  according  to  Falk- 
ner  (Description  of  Patagonia,  p.  117),  the  male  wizards  arc  chosen  for 
their  office  when  they  arc  children,  and  "a  preference  is  always  shown  to 
those  who  at  that  early  time  of  life  discover  an  effeminate  disposition." 
They  are  obliged,  as  it  were,  to  leave  their  sex,  and  to  dress  themselves 
in  female  apparel. 

IDS  Havclock  Ellis,  op.  cit.t  p.  206. 

100  Cf.  supra,  ii,  p.  466   (Society  Islanders). 

107  Supra,  i,  p.  407. 

198  Supra,  i,  p.  406  sq. 

ieo  Von  Kremcr,  Culturgeschichte  des  Orients,  ii,  p.  129. 

200  D61  linger,  op.  cit.,  ii,  p.  239. 

201  Dadistan-i  Dinil{,  Ixxvii,  II. 

202  Havelock  Ellis,  op.  cit.,  p.  206. 

203  Genesis,  xix,  p.  31  sqq. 

204  Thomas  Aquinas,  Summa  theologica,  ii,  iii.  154,  12.  Katz,  Grundri** 
des  kanonischcn  Strafrechts,  pp.  104,  118,  120.  Clarus,  Practica  criminalis. 
book  v.  #Sodomia,  Additioncs,  i  (Opera  omnia,  ii,  p.  152):  "Hoc  vitium 
cst  majus,  quam  si  quis  propriam  matrem  cognosceret." 

205  Vendidad,  i,  p.   12. 

206  DfaeM  Mainog-i  Khirad,  viii,  p.  10. 

207  Sad  Dar,  ix,  p.  «>.  West's  note  to  Dind-i  Mainog-i  Khirad ',  viii,  p. 
29  (Sacred  Books  of  the  East,  xxiv,  p.  35,  n.  4). 

208  Sad  Dar,  ix,  p.  5.  West's  note  to  Dind-i  Mainog-i  Khirad,  viii,  p.  29 
(Sacred  Books  of  the  East,  xxiv,  p.  35,  n.  3). 

™*Sad  Dar,  ix,  p.  5.  West's  note  to  Dadistan-i  Dinik,.  Ixxii,  p.  8 
(Sacred  Books  of  the  East,  xviii,  p.  218). 


564  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

210  Vendidad,  viii,  p.  32. 

211  Darmcstetcr,  in  Sacred  Boof(S  of  the  East,  iv,  p.  ii. 

212  Vendidad,  viii,  p.  27  sq. 
218  Leviticus,  xx,  23. 

214  Deuteronomy,    xxiii,    17.    Driver,    Commentary    on    Deuteronomy, 
K  264. 

215  Driver,  op.  «'/.,  p.  264  sq.   Selbie,  "Sodomite,"   in  Hastings,  Dic- 
tionary of  the  Bible,  iv,  p.  559. 

216  St.  Jerome,  In  Osee,  i,  pp.  4,  14  (Migne,  op.  cit.,  xxv,  851).  Cook'* 
note  to  I  Kings,  xiv,  24,  in  his  edition  of  The  Holy  Bible,  ii,  p.  571. 

217  Supra,  ii,  p.  444. 

218  Rosenbaum  suggests  (Geschichte  der  Lnstseuchc  im  Alterthume,  p. 
120)   that  the  eunuch  priests  connected  with  the  cult  of  the  Ephesian 
Artemis   and   the   Phrygian   worship   of   Cybele   likewise   were   sodomites. 

219  I  Kings,  xiv,  24;  xv,  12;  xxn,  46.  II  Kings,  xxiii,  7.  Job,  xxxvi,  14. 
Driver,  op.  cit.,  p.  265. 

220  Romans,  i,  25  sqq. 

221  Littre,   Dictionnaire  de  la   langue   franfaise,   i,   p.    386.    "Bougre." 
Hayncs,  Religious  Persecution,  p.  54. 

222  Littre,  op.  cit.,  i,  p.  2010,  "Hcretique." 

223  Les  Estabhssements  de  Saint  Louts,  i,  p.  90;  ii,  p.  147.     Viollet,  in 
his  Introduction  to  the  same  work,  i,  p.  254. 

224  Littre,   op.   cit.,   i,  p.   386,    "Bougre."   Murray,  New  English   Dic- 
tionary,  i,  p.    1 1 60,    "Bugger."    Lea,   History  of   the  Inquisition   of  the 
Middle  Ages,  i,  p.  115,  note. 

225  Beaumanoir,  Coutumes  du  Beauvoisis,  xxx,  II,  vol.  i,  p.  413:  "Qui 
crre  contre  le  foi,  comme  en  mescreancc,  de  le  qucle  il  ne  veut  venir  a 
voie  de  verite,  ou  qui  fet  sodomirerie,  il  droit  estre  ars,  et  forfet  tout  le 
sien  en  le  manierc  dessus."  Britton,  i,  p.  10,  vol.  i,  p.  42.  Montesquieu, 
De  I 'esprit  des  lot's,  xii,  6  (CEuvres,  p.  283).  Du  Boys,  Histoire  du  droit 
criminel  de  I'Espagne,  pp.  486,  721. 

226Clarus,  Practica  criminalis,  book  v.  #Sodomia,  I  (Opera  omnia,  ii. 
p.  I5O. 

227  Coke,  Thirl  Part  of  the  Institutes  of  the  Laws  of  England,  p.  59. 

228  Mirror,  quoted  ibid.,  p.  58. 


THE  RELATIONS  BETWEEN  THE  SEXES  IN 
TRIBAL  LIFE* 

By  BRON1SLAW  MALINOWSKI 

MAN  and  woman  in  the  Trobriand  Islands — their  relations 
in  love,  in  marriage,  and  in  tribal  life — this  will  be  the 
subject  of  the  present  study. 

The  most  dramatic  and  intense  stage  in  the  intercourse 
between  man  and  woman,  that  in  which  they  love,  mate,  and 
produce  children,  must  occupy  the  dominant  place  in  any 
consideration  of  the  sexual  problem.  To  the  average  normal 
person,  in  whatever  type  of  society  we  find  him,  attraction 
by  the  other  sex  and  the  passionate  and  sentimental  episodes 
which  follow  are  the  most  significant  events  in  his  existence, 
those  most  deeply  associated  with  his  intimate  happiness  and 
with  the  zest  and  meaning  of  life.  To  the  sociologist,  there- 
fore, who  studies  a  particular  type  of  society,  those  of  its 
customs,  ideas,  and  institutions  which  center  round  the 
erotic  life  of  the  individual  should  be  of  primary  impor- 
tance. For  if  he  wants  to  be  in  tune  with  his  subject  and 
to  place  it  in  a  natural,  correct  perspective,  the  sociologist 
must,  in  his  research,  follow  the  trend  of  personal  values 
and  interests.  That  which  means  supreme  happiness  to  the 
individual  must  be  made  a  fundamental  factor  in  the  scien- 
tific treatment  of  human  society. 

But  the  erotic  phase,  although  the  most  important,  is 
only  one  among  many  in  which  the  sexes  meet  and  enter 
into  relations  with  each  other.  It  cannot  be  studied  outside 
its  proper  context,  without,  that  is,  being  linked  up  with 
the  legal  status  of  man  and  woman;  with  their  domestic 
relations;  and  with  the  distribution  of  their  economic 
functions.  Courtship,  love,  and  mating  in  a  given  society 

*The  Sexual  Life  of  Savages.  New  York:  Horace  Liveright. 

565 


566  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

are  influenced  in  every  detail  by  the  way  in  which  the 
sexes  face  one  another  in  public  and  in  private,  by  their 
position  in  tribal  law  and  custom,  by  the  manner  in  which 
they  participate  in  games  and  amusements,  by  the  share  each 
takes  in  ordinary  daily  toil. 

The  story  of  a  people's  love-making  necessarily  has  to 
begin  with  an  account  of  youthful  and  infantile  associa- 
tions, and  it  leads  inevitably  forward  to  the  later  stage  of 
permanent  union  and  marriage.  Nor  can  the  narrative  break 
off  at  this  point,  since  science  cannot  claim  the  privilege  of 
fiction.  The  way  in  which  men  and  women  arrange  their 
common  life  and  that  of  their  children  reacts  upon  their 
love-making,  and  the  one  stage  cannot  be  properly  under- 
stood without  a  knowledge  of  the  other. 

This  book  deals  with  sexual  relations  among  the  natives 
of  the  Trobriand  Islands,  a  coral  archipelago  lying  to  the 
northeast  of  New  Guinea.  These  natives  belong  to  the 
Papuo-Melanesian  race,  and  in  their  physical  appearance, 
mental  equipment,  and  social  organization  combine  a  ma- 
jority of  Oceanic  characteristics  with  certain  features  of 
the  more  backward  Papuan  population  from  the  mainland 
of  New  Guinea.1 


THE    PRINCIPLES    OF    MOTHER-RIGHT 

We  find  in  the  Trobriands  a  matrilineal  society,  in  which 
descent,  kinship,  and  every  social  relationship  are  legally 
reckoned  through  the  mother  only,  and  in  which  women 
have  a  considerable  share  in  tribal  life,  even  to  the  taking 
of  a  leading  part  in  economic,  ceremonial,  and  magical 
activities— a  fact  which  very  deeply  influences  all  the  cus- 
toms of  erotic  life  as  well  as  the  institution  of  marriage. 
It  will  be  well,  therefore,  first  to  consider  the  sexual  rela- 
tion in  its  widest  aspect,  beginning  with  some  account  of 
those  features  of  custom  and  tribal  law  which  underlie  the 
institution  of  mother-right,  and  the  various  views  an:l  con- 


SEXUAL    CUSTOMS    AND    SOCIAL    PRACTICE      567 

ceptions,  which  throw  light  upon  it;  after  this,  a  short 
sketch  of  each  of  the  chief  domains  of  tribal  life— domestic, 
economic,  legal,  ceremonial,  and  magical — will  combine 
to  show  the  respective  spheres  of  male  and  female  activity 
among  these  natives. 

The  idea  that  it  is  solely  and  exclusively  the  mother  who 
builds  up  the  child's  body,  the  man  in  no  way  contributing 
to  its  formation,  is  the  most  important  factor  in  the  legal 
system  of  the  Trobrianders.  Their  views  on  the  process  of 
procreation,  coupled  with  certain  mythological  and  animistic 
beliefs,  affirm,  without  doubt  or  reserve,  that  the  child  is 
of  the  same  substance  as  its  mother,  and  that  between  the 
father  and  the  child  there  is  no  bond  of  physical  union 
whatsoever. 

That  the  mother  contributes  everything  to  the  new  being 
to  be  born  of  her  is  taken  for  granted  by  the  natives,  and 
forcibly  expressed  by  them.  "The  mother  feeds  the  infant 
in  her  body.  Then,  when  it  comes  out,  she  feeds  it  with  hei 
milk."  "The  mother  makes  the  child  out  of  her  blood.H 
"Brothers  and  sisters  are  of  the  same  flesh,  because  they 
come  of  the  same  mother."  These  and  similar  expressions 
describe  their  attitude  towards  this,  their  fundamental  prin- 
ciple of  kinship. 

This  attitude  is  also  to  be  found  embodied,  in  an  even 
more  telling  manner,  in  the  rules  governing  descent,  inherit- 
ance, succession  in  rank,  chieftainship,  hereditary  offices,  and 
magic — in  every  regulation,  in  fact,  concerning  transmission 
by  kinship.  Social  position  is  handed  on  in  the  mother-line 
from  a  man  to  his  sister's  children,  and  this  exclusively  matr.- 
lineal  conception  of  kinship  is  of  paramount  importance  in 
the  restrictions  and  regulations  of  marriage,  and  in  the  taboos 
on  sexual  intercourse.  The  working  of  these  ideas  of  kinship 
can  be  observed,  breaking  out  with  a  dramatic  intensity, 
at  death.  For  the  social  rules  underlying  burial,  lamentation, 
and  mourning,  together  with  certain  very  elaborate  cere- 
monies of  food  distribution,  are  based  on  the  principle  that 
people  joined  by  the  tie  of  maternal  kinship  form  a  closely 


568  THE    MAKING    O  I-     MAN 

knit  group,  bound  by  an  identity  of  feelings,  of  interests, 
and  of  flesh.  And  from  this  group  even  those  united  to  it  by 
marriage  and  by  the  father-to-child  relation  are  sharply 
excluded,  as  having  no  natural  share  in  the  bereavement. 

These  natives  have  a  well-established  institution  of  mar- 
riage, and  yet  are  quite  ignorant  of  the  man's  share  in  the 
begetting  of  children.  At  the  same  time,  the  term  "father" 
has,  for  the  Trobriander,  a  clear,  though  exclusively  social, 
definition:  it  signifies  the  man  married  to  the  mother,  who 
lives  in  the  same  house  with  her,  and  forms  part  of  the 
household.  The  father,  in  all  discussions  about  relationship, 
was  pointedly  described  to  me  as  tomafyva,  a  "stranger,"  or, 
even  more  correctly,  an  "outsider."  This  expression  would 
also  frequently  be  used  by  natives  in  conversation,  when  they 
were  arguing  some  point  of  inheritance  or  trying  to  justify 
some  line  of  behavior,  or  again  when  the  position  of  the 
father  was  to  be  belittled  in  some  quarrel. 

It  will  be  clear  to  the  reader,  therefore,  that  the  term 
"father,"  as  I  use  it  here,  must  be  taken,  not  as  having 
the  various  legal,  moral,  and  biological  implications  that 
it  holds  for  us,  but  in  a  sense  entirely  specific  to  the  society 
with  which  we  are  dealing.  It  might  seem  better,  in  order 
to  avoid  any  chance  of  such  misconception,  not  to  have 
used  our  word  "father"  at  all,  but  rather  the  native  one 
tama,  and  to  have  spoken  of  the  "tama  relationship"  instead 
of  "fatherhood";  but,  in  practice,  this  would  have  proved 
too  unwieldy.  The  reader,  therefore,  when  he  meets  the 
word  "father"  in  these  pages,  should  never  forget  that  it 
must  be  defined,  not  as  in  the  English  dictionary,  but  in 
accordance  with  the  facts  of  native  life.  I  may  add  that  this 
rule  applies  to  all  terms  which  carry  special  sociological 
implication,  that  is  to  all  terms  of  relationship,  and  such 
words  as  "marriage,"  "divorce,"  "betrothal,"  "love,"  "court- 
ship," and  the  like. 

What  does  the  word  tama  (father)  express  to  the  native? 
"Husband  of  my  mother"  would  be  the  answer  first  given 
by  an  intelligent  informant.  He  would  go  on  to  say  that  his 


SEXUAL    CUSTOMS    AND    SOCIAL    PRACTICE      569 

tama  is  the  man  in  whose  loving  and  protecting  company 
he  has  grown  up.  For,  since  marriage  is  patrilocal  in  the 
Trobriands,  since  the  woman,  that  is  to  say,  moves  to  her 
husband's  village  community  and  lives  in  his  house,  the 
father  is  a  close  companion  to  his  children;  he  takes  an 
active  part  in  the  cares  which  are  lavished  upon  them,  in* 
variably  feels  and  shows  a  deep  affection  for  them,  and 
later  has  a  share  in  their  education.  The  word  tama  (father) 
condenses,  therefore,  in  its  emotional  meaning,  a  host  of 
experiences  by  early  childhood,  and  expresses  the  typical 
sentiment  existing  between  a  boy  or  girl  and  a  mature 
affectionate  man  of  the  same  household;  while  socially  it 
denotes  the  male  person  who  stands  in  an  intimate  relation 
to  the  mother,  and  who  is  master  of  the  household. 

So  far  tama  does  not  differ  essentially  from  "father"  in 
our  sense.  But  as  soon  as  the  child  begins  to  grow  up  and 
take  an  interest  in  things  outside  the  affairs  of  the  house- 
hold and  its  own  immediate  needs,  certain  complications 
arise,  and  change  the  meaning  of  tama  for  him.  He  learns 
that  he  is  not  of  the  same  clan  as  his  tama,  that  his  totemic 
appellation  is  different,  and  that  it  is  identical  with  that 
of  his  mother.  At  the  same  time  he  learns  that  all  sorts 
of  duties,  restrictions,  and  concerns  for  personal  pride  unite 
him  to  his  mother  and  separate  him  from  his  father.  An- 
other man  appears  on  the  horizon,  and  is  called  by  the  child 
^adagu  ("my  mother's  brother").  This  man  lives  in  the  same 
locality,  but  he  is  just  as  likely  to  reside  in  another  village. 
The  child  also  learns  that  the  place  where  his  l(ada  (mother's 
brother)  resides  is  also  his,  the  child's,  "own  village";  that 
there  he  has  property  and  his  other  rights  of  citizenship; 
that  there  his  future  career  awaits  him;  that  there  his  natural 
allies  and  associates  are  to  be  found.  He  may  even  be  taunted 
in  the  village  of  his  birth  with  being  an  "outsider"  (toma* 
tyva),  while  in  the  village  he  has  to  call  "his  own,"  in 
which  his  mother's  brother  lives,  his  father  is  a  .stranger 
and  he  a  natural  citizen.  He  also  sees,  as  he  grows  up,  that 
the  mother's  brother  assumes  a  gradually  increasing  au- 


570  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

thority  over  him,  requiring  his  services,  helping  him  in  some 
things,  granting  or  withholding  his  permission  to  carry  out 
certain  actions;  while  the  father's  authority  and  counsel 
become  less  and  less  important. 

Thus  the  life  of  a  Trobriander  runs  under  a  two-fold 
influence — a  duality  which  must  not  be  imagined  as  a  mere 
surface  play  of  custom.  It  enters  deeply  into  the  existence  of 
every  individual,  it  produces  strange  complications  of  usage, 
it  creates  frequent  tensions  and  difficulties,  and  not  seldom 
gives  rise  to  violent  breaks  in  the  continuity  of  tribal  life. 
For  this  dual  influence  of  paternal  love  and  the  matrilineal 
principle  which  penetrates  so  far  into  the  framework  of  in- 
stitutions and  into  the  social  ideas  and  sentiments  of  the 
native,  is  not,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  quite  well  adjusted  in  its 
working.2 

It  has  been  necessary  to  emphasize  the  relationship  be- 
tween a  Trobriander  and  his  father,  his  mother,  and  his 
mother's  brother,  for  this  is  the  nucleus  of  the  complex 
system  of  mother-right  or  matriliny,  and  this  system  governs 
the  whole  social  life  of  these  natives.  The  question  is,  more- 
over, especially  related  to  the  main  theme  of  this  book: 
love-making,  marriage,  and  kinship  are  three  aspects  of  the 
same  subject;  they  are  the  three  facets  which  it  presents  in 
turn  to  sociological  analysis. 

n 

A  TROBRIAND  VILLAGE 

We  have  so  far  given  the  sociological  definition  of  father- 
hood, of  the  mother's  brother's  relation,  and  of  the  nature 
of  the  bond  between  mother  and  child;  a  bond  founded  on 
the  biological  facts  of  gestation  and  the  extreme  close  psy- 
chological attachment  which  results  from  these.  The  best 
way  to  make  this  abstract  statement  clear  will  be  to  display 
the  inter-working  of  the  three  relationships  in  an  actual 
community  in  the  Trobriands.  Thus  we  can  make  our  ex- 
planations concrete  and  get  into  touch  with  actual  life 


SEXUAL    CUSTOMS    AND    SOCIAL    PRACTICE      57! 

instead  of  moving  among  abstractions;  and,  incidentally, 
too,  we  can  introduce  some  personalities  who  will  appear 
in  the  later  parts  of  our  narrative. 

The  village  of  Omarakana  is,  in  a  sense,  the  capital  of 
Kiriwina,  the  main  district  of  these  islands.  It  is  the  residence 
of  the  principal  chief,  whose  name,  prestige,  and  renown 
are  carried  far  and  wide  over  the  Archipelagoes,  though 
his  power  does  not  reach  beyond  the  province  of  Kiriwina.3 
The  village  lies  on  a  fertile,  level  plain  in  the  northern  part 
of  the  large,  flat  coral  island  of  Boyowa.  As  we  walk  to- 
wards it,  from  the  lagoon  anchorages  on  the  western  shore, 
xhe  level  road  leads  across  monotonous  stretches  covered 
with  low  scrub,  here  and  there  broken  by  a  tabooed  grove, 
or  by  a  large  garden,  holding  vines  trained  on  long  poles 
and  looking,  in  its  developed  form,  like  an  exuberant  hop- 
yard.  We  pass  several  villages  on  our  way;  the  soil  becomes 
more  fertile  and  the  settlement  denser  as  we  approach  the 
long  ridge  of  raised  coral  outcrop  which  runs  along  the 
eastern  shore  and  shuts  off  the  open  sea  from  the  inland 
plains  of  the  island. 

A  large  clump  of  trees  appears  at  a  distance — these  are  the 
fruit  trees,  the  palms  and  the  piece  of  uncut  virgin  jungle 
which  together  surround  the  village  of  Omarakana.  We 
pass  the  grove  and  find  ourselves  between  two  rows  of 
houses,  built  in  concentric  rings  round  a  large  open  space. 
Between  the  outer  ring  and  the  inner  one  a  circular  street 
runs  round  the  whole  of  the  village,  and  in  it,  as  we  pass, 
we  see  groups  of  people  sitting  in  front  of  their  huts.  The 
outer  ring  consists  of  dwelling-houses,  the  inner  of  store- 
huts  in  which  the  taytu,  a  variety  of  yam,  which  forms  the 
staple  food  of  the  natives,  is  kept  from  one  harvest  to  the 
next.  We  are  struck  at  once  by  the  better  finish,  the  greater 
constructive  elaboration,  and  the  superior  embelKshment  and 
decoration  which  distinguish  the  yam-houses  from  the 
dwellings.  As  we  stand  on  the  wide  central  space  we  can 
admire  the  circular  row  of  storehouses  in  front  of  us,  for 
both  these  and  the  dwellings  always  face  the  center.  In 


572  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

Omarakana  a  big  yam-house  belonging  to  the  chief  stands 
in  the  middle  of  this  space.  Somewhat  nearer  the  ring,  but 
still  well  in  the  center  stands  another  large  building,  the 
chief's  living  hut. 

This  singularly  symmetrical  arrangement  of  the  village 
is  of  importance,  for  it  represents  a  definite  sociological 
scheme.  The  inner  place  is  the  scene  of  the  public  and  festive 
life.  A  part  of  it  is  the  old-time  burial  ground  of  the  vil- 
lagers, and  at  one  end  is  the  dancing  ground,  the  scene  of 
all  ceremonial  and  festive  celebrations.  The  houses  which 
surround  it,  the  inner  ring  of  store-huts  that  is,  share  its 
quasi-sacred  character,  a  number  of  taboos  being  placed  upon 
them.  The  street  between  the  two  rows  is  the  theater  of 
domestic  life  and  everyday  occurrence.  Without  overlabor- 
ing the  point,  the  central  place  might  be  called  the  male 
portion  of  the  village  and  the  street  that  of  the  women. 

Let  us  now  make  preliminary  acquaintance  with  some  of 
the  more  important  inhabitants  of  Omarakana,  beginning 
With  the  present  chief,  To'uluwa.  Not  only  arc  he  and  his 
family  the  most  prominent  members  of  the  community, 
but  they  occupy  more  than  half  of  the  village.  As  we  shall 
see,  the  chiefs  in  the  Trobriands  have  the  privilege  of 
polygamy.  To'uluwa,  who  lives  in  the  large  house  in  the 
middle  of  the  village,  has  a  number  of  wives  who  occupy 
a  whole  row  of  huts.  Also  his  maternal  kinsmen,  who  be- 
long to  his  family  and  sub-clan  called  Tabalu,  have  a  sepa- 
rate space  in  the  village  for  themselves.  The  third  section  is 
inhabited  by  commoners  who  are  not  related  to  the  chief 
either  as  kinsmen  or  as  children. 

The  community  is  thus  divided  into  three  parts.  The  first 
consists  of  the  chief  and  his  maternal  kinsmen,  the  Tabalu, 
all  of  whom  claim  the  village  as  their  own,  and  consider 
themselves  masters  of  >its  soil  with  all  attendant  privileges. 
The  second  consists  of  the  commoners,  who  are  themselves 
divided  into  two  groups:  those  claiming  the  rights  of  citizen- 
ship on  mythological  grounds  (these  rights  are  distinctly 
inferior  to  those  of  the  chiefs  sub-clan,  and  the  claimants 


SEXUAL    CUSTOMS    AND    SOCIAL    PRACTICE       573 

remain  in  the  village  only  as  the  chiefs  vassals  or  servants) ; 
and  strangers  in  the  hereditary  service  of  the  chief,  who 
live  in  the  village  by  that  right  and  title.  The  third  part 
consists  of  the  chiefs  wives  and  their  offspring. 

These  wives,  by  reason  of  patrilocal  marriage,  have  to 
settle  in  their  husband's  village,  and  with  them,  of  course, 
remain  their  younger  children.  But  the  grown-up  sons  are 
allowed  to  stay  in  the  village  only  through  the  personal  in- 
fluence of  their  father.  This  influence  overrules  the  tribal 
law  that  every  man  ought  to  live  in  his  own — that  is  hi? 
mother's — village.  The  chief  is  always  much  more  attached 
to  his  children  than  to  his  maternal  kinsmen.  He  prefers 
their  company;  like  every  typical  Trobriand  father,  he  takes, 
sentimentally  at  least,  their  side  in  any  dispute;  and  he  in- 
variably tries  to  grant  them  as  many  privileges  and  benefits 
as  possible.  This  state  of  affairs  is  naturally  not  altogether 
appreciated  by  the  chiefs  legal  successors,  his  maternal  kins- 
men, the  children  of  his  sister;  and  frequently  considerable 
tension  and  sharp  friction  arise  between  the  two  section"? 
in  consequence. 

Such  a  state  of  tension  revealed  itself  recently  in  an  acute 
upheaval  which  shook  the  quiet  tribal  life  of  Omarakana 
and  for  years  undermined  its  internal  harmony.4  There 
was  a  feud  of  long  standing  between  Namwana  Guya'u, 
the  chiefs  favorite  son,  and  Mitakata,  his  nephew  and  third 
in  succession  to  the  rule.  Namwana  Guya'u  was  the  most 
influential  man  in  the  village,  after  the  chief,  his  father: 
To'uluwa  allowed  him  to  wield  a  great  deal  of  power,  and 
gave  him  more  than  his  share  of  wealth  and  privilege. 

One  day,  about  six  months  after  my  arrival  in  Omarakana, 
the  quarrel  came  acutely  to  a  head.  Namwana  Guya'u,  the 
chiefs  son,  accused  his  enemy,  Mitakata,  the  nephew  and 
one  of  the  heirs,  of  committing  adultery  with  his  wife, 
brought  him  before  the  White  Resident  Magistrate,  and 
thereby  caused  him  to  be  imprisoned  for  a  month  or  so. 
The  news  of  this  imprisonment  reached  the  village  from 
the  Government  compound,  a  few  miles  distant,  at  sunset, 


574  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

and  created  a  panic.  The  chief  shut  himself  up  in  his  personal 
hut,  full  of  evil  forebodings  for  his  favorite,  who  had  thus 
rashly  outraged  tribal  law  and  feeling.  The  kinsmen  of  the 
imprisoned  heir  to  chieftainship  were  boiling  with  sup- 
pressed anger  and  indignation.  As  night  fell,  the  subdued 
villagers  settled  down  to  a  silent  supper,  each  family  over 
its  solitary  meal.  There  was  nobody  on  the  central  place. 
Namwana  Guya'u  was  not  to  be  seen,  the  chief  To'uluwa 
remained  secluded  in  his  hut,  most  of  his  wives  and  their 
children  staying  indoors  also.  Suddenly  a  loud  voice  rang 
out  across  the  village.  Bagido'u,  the  heir  apparent  and  eldest 
brother  of  the  imprisoned  man,  standing  before  his  hut, 
cried  out,  addressing  the  offender  of  his  family: 

"Namwana  Guya'u,  you  are  a  cause  of  trouble.  We,  the 
Tabalu  of  Omarakana,  allowed  you  to  stay  here,  to  live 
among  us.  You  had  plenty  of  food  in  Omarakana.  You  ate 
of  our  food.  You  partook  of  the  pigs  brought  to  us  as  a 
tribute,  and  of  the  flesh.  You  sailed  in  our  carioe.  You  built 
a  hut  on  our  soil.  Now  you  have  done  us  harm.  You  have 
told  lies.  Mitakata  is  in  prison.  We  do  not  want  you  to  stay 
here.  This  is  our  village!  You  are  a  stranger  here.  Go  away! 
We  drive  you  away!  We  drive  you  out  of  Omarakana." 

These  words  were  uttered  in  a  loud,  piercing  voice,  which 
trembled  with  stronge  emotion:  each  short  sentence  was 
spoken  after  a  pause;  each,  like  an  individual  missile,  was 
hurled  across  the  empty  space  to  the  hut  where  Namwana 
Guya'u  sat  brooding.  Next,  the  younger  sister  of  Mitakata 
rose  and  spoke,  and  then  a  young  man,  one  of  their  ma- 
ternal nephews.  Their  words  were  in  each  case  almost  the 
same  as  Bagido'u's,  the  burden  being  the  formula  of  dis- 
missal or  driving  away,  the  yoba.  These  speeches  were  re- 
ceived in  deep  silence.  Nothing  stirred  in  the  village.  But, 
before  the  night  was  over,  Namwana  Guya'u  had  left 
Omarakana  for  ever.  He  had  gone  over  and  settled  a  few 
miles  away,  in  Osapola,  his  "own"  village,  whence  his 
mother  came.  For  weeks  she  and  his  sister  wailed  for  him 
with  loud  lamentations  as  for  the  dead.  The  chief  remained 


SEXUAL    CUSTOMS    AND    SOCIAL    PRACTICE      575 

for  three  days  in  his  hut,  and  when  he  came  out  he  looked 
aged  and  broken  by  grief.  All  his  personal  interest  and  af- 
fection were  on  the  side  of  his  favorite  son,  yet  he  could 
do  nothing  to  help  him.  His  kinsmen  had  acted  strictly 
within  their  rights,  and,  according  to  tribal  law,  he  could 
not  possibly  dissociate  himself  from  them.  No  power  could 
change  the  decree  of  exile.  Once  the  words  "Go  away" — 
butyla,  "we  drive  thee  away" — \ayabaim,  had  been  pro- 
nounced, the  man  had  to  go.  These  words,  very  rarely 
uttered  in  earnest,  have  a  binding  force  and  an  almost  ritual 
power  when  pronounced  by  citizens  against  a  resident  out- 
sider. A  man  who  would  try  to  brave  the  dreadful  insult 
involved  in  them  and  remain  in  spite  of  them,  would  be 
dishonored  forever.  In  fact,  anything  but  immediate  com- 
pliance with  a  ritual  request  is  unthinkable  for  a  Trobriand 
Islander. 

The  chiefs  resentment  against  his  kinsmen  was  deep  and 
lasting.  At  first  he  would  not  even  speak  to  them.  For  a  year 
or  so,  not  one  of  them  dared  to  ask  to  be  taken  on  overseas 
expeditions  by  him,  although  they  were  fully  entitled  to 
this  privilege.  Two  years  later,  in  1917,  when  I  returned 
to  the  Trobriancls,  Namwana  Guya'u  was  still  resident  in  the 
other  village  and  keeping  aloof  from  his  father's  kinsmen, 
though  he  frequently  visited  Omaraknna  in  order  to  be  in 
attendance  on  his  father,  especially  when  To'uluwa  went 
abroad.  His  mother  had  died  within  a  year  after  his  ex- 
pulsion. As  the  natives  described  it:  "She  wailed  and  wailed, 
refused  to  cat,  and  died."  The  relations  between  the  two 
main  enemies  were  completely  broken,  and  Mitakata,  the 
young  chieftain  who  had  been  imprisoned,  had  repudiated 
his  wife,  who  belonged  to  the  same  sub-clan  as  Namwana 
Guya'u.  There  was  a  deep  rift  in  the  whole  social  life  at 
Kiriwina. 

This  incident  was  one  of  the  most  dramatic  which  I  have 
ever  witnessed  in  the  Trobriands.  I  have  described  it  at 
length,  as  it  contains  a  striking  illustration  of  the  nature  of 
mother-right,  of  the  power  of  tribal  law,  and  of  the  passions 


57^  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

which  work  against  and  in  spite  of  these.  It  shows  also  the 
deep,  personal  attachment  which  a  father  feels  for  his  chil- 
dren, the  tendency  which  he  has  to  use  all  his  personal 
influence  to  give  them  a  strong  position  in  the  village,  the 
.opposition  which  this  always  evokes  among  his  maternal 
kinsmen,  and  the  tension  and  rifts  thus  brought  about. 
Under  normal  conditions,  in  a  smaller  community  where  the 
contending  powers  are  humbler  and  less  important,  such 
tension  would  merely  mean  that,  after  the  father's  death,  the 
children  would  have  to  return  to  his  maternal  kinsmen 
practically  all  the  material  benefits  they  had  received  from 
him  during  his  lifetime.  In  any  case  a  good  deal  of  dis- 
content and  friction  and  many  roundabout  methods  of 
settlement  are  involved  in  this  dual  play  of  paternal  affec- 
tion and  matrilineal  authority:  the  chiefs  son  and  his 
maternal  nephew  can  be  described  as  predestined  enemies. 

This  theme  will  recur  in  the  progress  of  the  following 
'narrative.  In  discussing  consent  to  marriage,  we  shall  see 
rhe  importance  of  paternal  authority  and  the  functions  of 
the  matrilineal  kinsmen.  The  custom  of  cross-cousin  mar- 
riage is  a  traditional  reconciliation  of  the  two  opposing 
principles.  The  sexual  taboos  and  prohibitions  of  incest  also 
cannot  be  understood  without  a  clear  grasp  of  the  principles 
discussed  in  this  section. 

So  far  we  have  met  To'uluwa,  his  favorite  wife  Kadam- 
wasila,  whose  death  followed  on  the  village  tragedy,  their 
son  Namwana  Guya'u,  and  his  enemy  Mitakata,  son  of  the 
chiefs  sister,  and  these  we  shall  meet  again,  for  they  were 
among  my  best  informants.  We  shall  also  become  acquainted 
with  the  other  sons  of  the  chief,  and  of  his  favorite  wife,  and 
with  some  of  his  maternal  kinsmen  and  kinswontien.  We 
shall  follow  several  of  them  in  their  love  affairs,  and  in  their 
marriage  arrangements;  we  shall  have  to  pry  into  their  do- 
mestic scandals,  and  to  take  an  indiscreet  interest  in  their 
intimate  life.  For  all  of  them  were,  during  a  long  period, 
under  ethnographic  observation,  and  I  obtained  much  of 


SEXUAL    CUSTOMS    AND    SOCIAL    PRACTICE      577 

my  material  through  their  confidences,  and  especially  from 
their  mutual  scandal-mongering. 

Many  examples  will  also  be  given  from  other  communi- 
ties, and  we  shall  make  frequent  visits  to  the  lagoon  villages 
of  the  western  shore,  to  places  on  the  south  of  the  island, 
and  to  some  of  the  neighboring  smaller  islands  of  the  Archi- 
pelago. In  all  these  other  communities  more  uniform  and 
democratic  conditions  prevail,  and  this  makes  some  differ- 
ence in  the  character  of  their  sexual  life. 

in 

FAMILY  LIFE 

In  entering  the  village  we  had  to  pass  across  the  street 
between  the  two  concentric  rows  of  houses.  This  is  the  nor- 
mal setting  of  the  everyday  life  of  the  community,  and 
thither  we  must  return  in  order  to  make  a  closer  survey 
of  the  groups  of  people  sitting  in  front  of  their  dwellings. 
As  a  rule  we  find  that  each  group  consists  of  one  family 
only — man,  wife,  and  children — taking  their  leisure,  or  en- 
gaged in  some  domestic  activity  which  varies  with  the  time 
of  day.  On  a  fine  morning  we  would  see  them  hastily  eating 
a  scanty  breakfast,  and  then  the  man  and  woman  preparing 
the  implements  for  the  day's  work,  with  the  help  of  the 
bigger  children,  while  the  baby  is  laid  out  of  the  way  on  a 
mat.  Afterwards,  during  the  cool  hours  of  the  forenoon, 
each  family  would  probably  set  off  to  their  work,  leaving 
the  village  almost  deserted.  The  man,  in  company  with 
others,  may  be  fishing  or  hunting  or  building  a  canoe  or 
looking  for  timber.  The  woman  may  have  gone  collecting 
shell-fish  or  wild  fruits.  Or  else  both  may  be  working  in 
the  gardens  or  paying  a  visit.  The  man  often  does  harder 
work  than  the  woman,  but  when  they  return  in  the  hot 
hours  of  the  afternoon  he  will  rest,  while  the  woman  busies 
herself  with  household  affairs.  Towards  evening,  when  the 
descending  sun  casts  longer,  cooler  shadows,  the  social  life 
of  the  village  begins.  At  this  time  we  would  see  our  family 


578  THEMAKINGOFMAN 

group  in  front  of  their  hut,  the  wife  preparing  food,  the  chil- 
dren playing,  the  husband,  perhaps,  seated  amusing  the 
smallest  baby.  This  is  the  time  when  neighbors  call  on 
one  another,  and  conversation  may  be  exchanged  from 
group  to  group. 

The  frank  and  friendly  tone  of  intercourse,  the  obvious 
feeling  of  equality,  the  father's  domestic  helpfulness,  espe- 
cially with  the  children,  would  at  once  strike  any  observant 
visitor.  The  wife  joins  freely  in  the  jokes  and  conversation; 
she  does  her  work  independently,  not  with  the  air  of  a  slave 
or  a  servant,  but  as  one  who  manages  her  own  department. 
She  will  order  the  husband  about  if  she  needs  his  help. 
Close  observation,  day  after  day,  confirms  this  first  im- 
pression. The  typical  Trobriand  household  is  founded  on 
the  principles  of  equality  and  independence  of  function:  the 
man  is  considered  to  be  the  master,  for  he  is  in  his  own 
village  and  the  house  belongs  to  him,  but  the  woman  has, 
in  other  respects,  a  considerable  influence;  she  and  her 
family  have  a  great  deal  to  do  with  the  food  supply  of  the 
household;  she  is  the  owner  of  separate  possessions  in  the 
house;  and  she  is — next  to  her  brother — the  legal  head  of 
her  family. 

The  division  of  functions  within  the  household  is,  in  cer- 
tain matters,  quite  definite.  The  woman  has  to  cook  the  food, 
which  is  simple,  and  does  not  require  much  preparation. 
The  main  meal  is  taken  at  sunset,  and  consists  of  yams,  taro, 
or  other  tubers,  roasted  in  the  open  fire — or,  less  frequently, 
boiled  in  a  small  pot,  or  baked  in  the  ground — with  the 
occasional  addition  of  fish  or  meat.  Next  morning  the  re- 
mains are  eaten  cold,  and  sometimes,  though  not  regularly, 
fruit,  shell-fish,  or  some  other  light  snack  may  be  taken 
at  mid-day. 

In  some  circumstances,  men  can  and  do  prepare  and  cook 
the  food:  on  journeys,  oversea  voyages;  fishing  or  hunting 
expeditions,  when  they  are  without  their  women  folk.  Also, 
on  certain  occasions,  when  taro  or  sago  dumplings  are 
cooked  in  the  large  clay  pots,  men  are  required  by  tradi- 


SEXUAL    CUSTOMS    AND    SOCIAL    PRACTICE      579 

tion  to  assist  their  wives.  But  within  the  village  and  in 
normal  daily  life  the  man  never  cooks.  It  would  be  con- 
sidered shameful  for  him  to  do  so.  "You  are  a  he-cook"  (to* 
tyfybwasi  yol(u)  would  be  said  tauntingly.  The  fear  of  de- 
serving such  an  epithet,  of  being  laughed  at  or  shamed 
0(a\ayuwa))  is  extreme.  It  arises  from  the  characteristic 
dread  and  shame,  found  among  savages,  of  not  doing  the 
proper  thing,  or,  worse  still,  of  doing  something  which  is 
intrinsically  the  attribute  of  another  sex  or  social  class. 

There  are  a  number  of  occupations  strictly  assigned  by 
tribal  custom  to  one  sex  only.  The  manner  of  carrying  loads 
is  a  very  noteworthy  example.  Women  have  to  carry  the 
special  feminine  receptacle,  the  bell-shaped  basket,  or  any 
other  kind  of  load  upon  their  heads;  men  must  carry  only 
on  the  shoulder.  It  would  be  with  a  real  shudder,  and  a  pro- 
found feeling  of  shame,  that  an  individual  would  regard 
carrying  anything  in  the  manner  proper  to  the  opposite 
sex  and  nothing  would  induce  a  man  to  put  any  load  on  his 
head,  even  in  fun. 

An  exclusive  feminine  department  is  the  water  supply. 
The  woman  has  the  water  bottles  of  the  household  in  her 
charge.  These  arc  made  out  of  the  woody  shell  of  a  mature 
cocoanut,  with  a  stopper  of  twisted  palm  leaf.  In  the  morn- 
ing or  near  sunset  she  goes,  sometimes  a  full  half-mile,  to 
fill  them  at  the  water-hole:  here  the  women  forgather,  rest- 
ing and  chatting,  while  one  after  another  fills  her  water- 
vessels,  cleans  them,  arranges  them  in  baskets  or  on  large 
wooden  platters  and  just  before  leaving,  gives  the  clustet 
a  final  sprinkling  of  water  to  cover  it  with  a  suggestive 
gloss  of  freshness.  The  water-hole  is  the  woman's  club  and 
center  of  gossip,  and  as  such  is  important,  for  there  is  a 
distinct  woman's  public  opinion  and  point  of  view  in  a 
Trobriand  village,  and  they  have  their  secrets  from  the 
male,  just  as  the  male  has  from  the  female. 

We  have  already  seen  that  the  husband  fully  shares,  in  the 
care  of  the  children.  He  will  fondle  and  carry  a  baby,  clean 
and  wash  it,  and  give  it  the  ma*hed  vegetable  food  which 


580  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

it  receives  in  addition  to  the  mother's  milk  almost  from 
birth.  In  fact,  nursing  the  baby  in  the  arms  or  holding  it  on 
the  knees,  which  is  described  by  the  native  word  tytpo'i, 
is  the  special  role  and  duty  of  the  father  (tamo) .  It  is  said 
of  the  children  of  unmarried  women  who,  according  to  the 
native  expression,  are  "without  a  tama"  (that  is,  it  must  be 
remembered,  without  a  husband  to  their  mother),  that  they 
are  "unfortunate"  or  "bad"  because  "there  is  no  one  to  nurse 
and  hug  them  (gala  taytala  bi%ppo'i)."  Again,  if  any  one 
inquires  why  children  should  have  duties  towards  their 
father,  who  is  a  "stranger"  to  them,  the  answer  is  invariably: 
"because  of  the  nursing  (pela  fopo'i)?  "because  his  hands 
have  been  soiled  with  the  child's  excrement  and  urine." 

The  father  performs  his  duties  with  genuine  natural 
fondness:  he  will  carry  an  infant  about  for  hours,  looking 
at  it  with  eyes  full  of  such  love  and  pride  as  are  seldom  seen 
in  those  of  a  European  father.  Any  praise  of  the  baby  goes 
directly  to  his  heart,  and  he  will  never  tire  of  talking  about 
and  exhibiting  the  virtues  and  achievements  of  his  wife's 
offspring.  Indeed,  watching  a  native  family  at  home  or 
meeting  them  on  the  road,  one  receives  a  strong  impression 
of  close  union  and  intimacy  between  its  members.  Nor, 
•AS  we  have  seen,  does  this  mutual  affection  abate  in  later 
years.  Thus,  in  the  intimacy  of  domestic  life,  we  discover 
another  aspect  of  the  interesting  and  complicated  struggle 
between  social  and  emotional  paternity,  on  the  one  hand, 
and  the  explicitly  acknowledged  legal  mother-right  on  the 
other. 

It  will  be  noticed  that  we  have  not  yet  penetrated  into 
the  interior  of  a  house,  for  in  fine  weather  the  scene  of 
family  life  is  always  laid  in  front  of  the  dwelling.  Only  when 
it  is  cold  and  raining,  at  night,  or  for  intimate  uses,  do  the 
natives  retire  into  the  interior.  On  a  wet  or  windy  evening 
in  the  cooler  season  we  should  find  the  village  streets  de- 
serted, dim  lights  flickering  through  small  interstices  in  the 
hut  walls,  and  voices  sounding  from  within  in  animated 
conversation.  Inside  in  a  small  space  heavy  with  dense 


SEXUAL    CUSTOMS    AND    SOCIAL    PRACTICE      581 

smoke  and  human  exhalation,  the  people  sit  on  the  floor 
round  the  fire  or  recline  on  bedsteads  covered  with  mats. 

The  houses  are  built  directly  on  the  ground  and  their 
floors  are  o£  beaten  earth.  The  main  items  of  their  very  sim- 
ple furniture  are:  the  fireplace,  which  is  simply  a  ring  of 
small  stones  with  three  large  ones  to  support  a  pot;  wooden 
sleeping  bunks,  placed  one  over  another  against  the  back  and 
side  walls  opposite  the  fireplace  and  one  or  two  shelves  for 
nets,  cooking  pots,  women's  grass  petticoats,  and  other  house- 
hold objects.  The  chief's  personal  dwelling  is  built  like  an 
ordinary  house,  but  is  larger.  The  yam  houses  are  of  some- 
what different  and  more  complicated  construction,  and  are 
slightly  raised  above  the  ground. 

A  normal  day  in  a  typical  household  forces  the  family 
to  live  in  close  intimacy — they  sleep  in  the  same  hut,  they 
eat  in  common  and  spend  the  best  part  both  of  their  working 
and  leisure  hours  together. 

IV 

THE  DIVISION  OF  PROPERTY  AND  DUTIES   ACCORDING  TO  SEX 

Members  of  the  household  are  also  bound  together  by 
community  of  economic  interest.  On  this  point,  howevert 
a  more  detailed  statement  is  necessary,  as  the  subject  is  im- 
portant and  complicated.  To  begin  with  the  right  of  owner 
ship,  it  must  be  realized  that  personal  possession  is  a  mattel 
of  great  importance  to  the  native.  The  title  toll  ("owner"  01 
"master,"  used  as  a  prefix  to  the  object  possessed)  has  a  con- 
siderable value  in  itself  as  conferring  a  sort  of  distinction, 
even  when  it  does  not  give  a  claim  to  rights  of  exclusive  use. 
This  term  and  the  conception  of  ownership  are,  in  every 
particular  case,  very  well  defined,  but  the  relationship  varies 
with  different  objects,  and  it  is  impossible  to  summarize  it 
in  one  formula  covering  all  cases.5 

It  is  remarkable  that  in  spite  of  the  close  union  within  the 
household,  domestic  utensils  and  the  many  objects  littering 
the  hut  are  not  owned  in  common.  Husband  and  wife  ha\£ 


382  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

each  his  or  her  own  possessions.  The  wife  owns  her  grass 
petticoats,  of  which  there  are  usually  some  twelve  or  twenty 
in  her  wardrobe,  for  use  on  various  occasions.  Also  she  relies 
on  her  own  skill  and  industry  to  procure  them.  So  that  in  the 
question  of  toilet,  a  Kirwinian  lady  depends  solely  upon  her- 
self. The  water  vessels,  the  implements  for  dressmaking,  a 
number  of  articles  of  personal  adornment,  are  also  her  own 
property.  The  man  owns  his  tools,  ax  and  adze,  the  nets, 
the  spears,  the  dancing  ornaments,  and  the  drum,  and  also 
those  objects  of  high  value,  called  by  the  natives  vaygu'a, 
vsrhich  consist  of  necklaces,  belts,  armshells,  and  large  pol- 
ished ax-blades. 

Nor  is  private  ownership  in  this  case  a  mere  word  without 
practical  significance.  The  husband  and  the  wife  can  and 
do  dispose  of  any  article  of  their  own  property,  and  after 
the  death  of  one  of  them  the  objects  are  not  inherited  by  the 
partner,  but  distributed  among  a  special  class  of  heirs.  When 
there  is  a  domestic  quarrel  a  man  may  destroy  some  of  his 
wife's  property — he  may  wreak  his  vengeance  on  the  water 
bottles  or  on  the  grass  petticoats— and  she  may  smash  his 
drum  or  break  his  dancing  shield.  A  man  also  has  to  repair 
and  keep  his  own  things  in  order,  so  that  the  woman  is 
not  the  housekeeper  in  the  general  European  sense. 

Immovable  goods,  such  as  garden-land,  crecs,  houses,  as 
well  as  sailing-vessels,  are  owned  almost  exclusively  by  men, 
as  is  also  the  live  stock,  which  consists  mainly  of  pigs.  We 
shall  have  to  touch  on  this  subject  again,  when  we  speak  of 
the  social  position  of  women,  for  ownership  of  such  things 
goes  with  power. 

Passing  now  from  economic  rights  to  duties,  let  us  con- 
sider the  partition  of  work  according  to  sex.  In  the  heavier 
type  of  labor,  such  as  gardening,  fishing,  and  carrying  of 
considerable  loads,  there  is  a  definite  division  between  man 
and  woman.  Fishing  and  hunting,  the  latter  of  very  slight 
importance  in  the  Trobriands,  are  done  by  men,  while  only 
women  engage  in  the  search  for  marine  shell-fish.  In 
gardening,  the  heaviest  work,  such  as  cutting  the  scrub, 


SEXUAL    CUSTOMS    AND    SOCIAL    PRACTICE      583 

making  fences,  fetching  the  heavy  yam  supports,  and  plant- 
ing the  tuber,  is  done  exclusively  by  men.  Weeding  is  the 
women's  special  duty,  while  some  of  the  intermediate  stages, 
in  which  the  plants  have  to  be  looked  after,  are  performed 
by  mixed  male  and  female  labor.  Men  do  such  tending  as 
there  is  to  be  done  of  the  coco-  and  areca-nut  palms  and  of 
the  fruit  trees,  while  it  is  chiefly  the  women  who  look  after 
the  pigs. 

All  overseas  expeditions  are  made  by  men,  and  the  builo« 
ing  of  canoes  is  entirely  their  business.  Men  have  to  do  mosn 
of  the  trading,  especially  the  important  exchange  of  vege- 
table food  for  fish  which  takes  place  between  the  inland  and 
coastal  villagers.  In  the  building  of  houses,  the  framework 
is  made  by  men,  and  the  women  help  with  the  thatching. 
Both  sexes  share  in  the  carrying  of  burdens;  the  men 
shoulder  the  heavier  ones,  while  the  women  make  up  by 
carrying  more  frequently.  And,  as  we  have  seen,  there  is 
a  characteristic  sexual  distinction  in  the  mode  of  placing 
the  burden. 

As  regards  the  minor  work  of  manufacturing  small 
objects,  the  women  have  to  make  the  mats  and  plait  the 
armlets  and  belts.  Of  course,  they  alone  fashion  their  per- 
sonal dress,  just  as  men  have  to  tailor  their  own  not  very 
extensive  but  very  carefully  finished  garment,  the  pubic  leaf. 
Men  do  the  wood  carving,  even  in  the  case  of  objects  used 
exclusively  by  women;  they  manufacture  lime  gourds  for 
betel  chewing  and,  in  the  old  days,  they  used  to  polish  and 
sharpen  all  stone  implements. 

This  specialization  of  work  according  to  sex  gives,  at  cer- 
tain seasons,  a  characteristic  and  picturesque  touch  to  village 
life.  When  harvest  approaches  new  skirts  of  the  colored 
variety  have  to  be  made,  ready  to  wear  when  the  crops  are 
brought  in  and  at  the  subsequent  festivities.  Quantities  of 
banana  and  pandanus  leaf  are  brought  to  the  villages,  and 
are  there  bleached  and  toughened  at  the  fire.  At  night  the 
whole  village  is  bright  with  shining  of  these  fires,  at  each 
of  which  a  couple  of  women  sit  opposite  each  other  and 


584  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

pass  the  leaf  to  and  fro  in  front  of  the  flame.  Loud  chatter 
and  song  enlivens  the  work,  gay  with  anticipation  of  the 
coming  entertainments.  When  the  material  is  ready,  it  has 
still  to  be  cut,  trimmed,  and  dyed.  Two  kinds  of  roots  are 
brought  from  the  bush  for  the  dyeing,  one  giving  a  deep 
purple,  and  the  other  a  bright  crimson.  The  dye  is  mixed  in 
large  bowls  made  of  giant  clam  shells;  in  these  the  leaf  strips 
are  steeped,  and  then  they  are  hung  up  in  thick  bunches 
to  dry  in  the  central  place,  enlivening  the  whole  village 
with  their  gay  color.  After  a  very  complex  process  of  piecing 
together,  a  resplendent  "creation"  results;  the  golden  yel- 
low of  the  pandanus,  the  soft  hay-green  or  dun  of  the  banana 
leaf,  the  crimson  and  purple  of  the  dyed  layers  form  a  really 
beautiful  harmony  of  color  against  the  smooth,  brown  skin 
of  the  woman. 

Some  manufactures  are  carried  out  by  men  and  women 
together.  Both  sexes,  for  example,  take  part  in  the  elaborate 
process  which  is  necessary  in  preparing  certain  shell  orna- 
ments,6 while  nets  and  water-vessels  may  be  made  by 
either  sex. 

It  will  have  been  seen,  then,  that  women  do  not  bear  the 
brunt  of  all  the  drudgery  and  hard  work.  Indeed,  the 
heaviest  tasks  in  the  gardens  and  the  most  monotonous  ones 
are  performed  by  men.  On  the  other  hand,  women  have  their 
own  province  in  economic  activity;  it  is  a  conspicuous  one, 
and  through  it  they  assert  their  status  and  importance. 

NOTES 

1  For  a  full  general  recount  of  the  Northern  Massim,  of  whom  the 
Trobriandcrs  form  a  section,  cf.  the  classical  treatise  of  Professor  C.  G. 
Seligman,  Melanesians  of  British  New  Guinea,  Cambridge,  1910,  which 
also  shows  the  relation  of  the  Trobrianders  to  the  other  races  and  cultures 
on  and  around  New  Guinea.  A  short  account  of  Trobriand  culture  will  also 
be  found  in  my  Argonauts  of  the  Western  Pacific  (E.  P.  Dutton  and  Co., 
1922). 

2Cf.  my  Crime  and  Custom  in  Savage  Society  (Harcourt,  Brace,  1926). 

8  For  further  references  to  this  eminent  personage  and  for  an  account 
of  chieftainship,  see  C.  G.  Seligman,  op.  tit.,  chapters  xlix  and  )i;  also 
my  Argonauts  of  the  Western  Pacific,  passim,  and  "Baloma,  Spirits  of  thd 
Dead,"  Journ.  R.  Anthrop.  lust..  1916. 


SEXUAL    CUSTOMS    AND    SOCIAL    PRACTICE      585 

4  The  following  account  has  been  already  published  (in  Crime  ai.d  Cus- 
tom, pp.  i or  sq.).  Since  it  is  an  almost  exact  reproduction  of  the  original 
entry  in  my  field-notes,  I  prefer  to  give  it  here  once  more  in  the  same 
form,  with  a  few  verbal  alterations  only. 

5  Cf.  Argonauts  of  the  Western  Pacific,  ch.  vi,  and  passim. 

6  Cf.  ch.  xv  «f  Argonauts  of  the  Western  Pacific. 


FORMAL  SEX  RELATIONS  IN  SAMOA* 

By  MARGARET  MEAD 

THE  first  attitude  which  a  little  girl  learns  towards  boys 
is  one  of  avoidance  and  antagonism.  She  learns  to  observe 
the  brother  and  sister  taboo  towards  the  boys  of  her  relation- 
ship group  and  household,  and  together  with  the  other  small 
girls  of  her  age  group  she  treats  all  other  small  boys  as 
enemies  elect.  After  a  little  girl  is  eight  or  nine  years  of  age 
she  has  learned  never  to  approach  a  group  of  older  boys. 
This  feeling  of  antagonism  towards  younger  boys  and 
shamed  avoidance  of  older  ones  continues  up  to  the  age  of 
thirteen  or  fourteen,  to  the  group  of  girls  who  are  just  reach- 
ing puberty  and  the  group  of  boys  who  have  just  been 
circumcised.  These  children  are  growing  away  from  the  age- 
group  life  and  the  age-group  antagonisms.  They  are  not  yet 
actively  sex-conscious.  And  it  is  at  this  time  that  relationships 
between  the  sexes  are  least  emotionally  charged.  Not  until 
she  is  an  old  married  woman  with  several  children  will  the 
Samoan  girl  again  regard  the  opposite  sex  so  quietly. 
When  these  adolescent  children  gather  together  there  is 
a  good-natured  banter,  a  minimum  of  embarrassment,  a 
great  deal  of  random  teasing  which  usually  takes  the  form 
of  accusing  some  little  girl  of  a  consuming  passion  for  a 
decrepit  old  man  of  eighty,  or  some  small  boy  of  being  the 
father  of  a  buxom  matron's  eighth  child.  Occasionally  the 
banter  takes  the  form  of  attributing  affection  between  two 
age-mates  and  is  gayly  and  indignantly  repudiated  by 
both.  Children  at  this  age  meet  at  informal  siva  parties,  on 
the  outskirts  of  more  formal  occasions,  at  community  reef 
fishings  (when  many  yards  of  reef  have  been  enclosed  to 
make  a  great  fish  trap)  and  on  torch-fishing  excursions. 

*  Coming  of  Age  in  Samoa.  New  York:  William  Morrow  &  Co. 


SEXUAL    CUSTOMS    AND    SOCIAL    PRACTICE      58^ 

Good-natured  tussling  and  banter  and  cooperation  in  com- 
mon activities  are  the  keynotes  of  these  occasions.  But  un- 
fortunately these  contacts  are  neither  frequent  nor  sufficiently 
prolonged  to  teach  the  girls  cooperation  or  to  give  either 
boys  or  girls  any  real  appreciation  of  personality  in  members 
of  the  opposite  sex. 

Two  or  three  years  later  this  will  all  be  changed.  The  fact 
that  little  girls  no  longer  belong  to  age  groups  makes  the 
individual's  affection  less  noticeable.  The  boy  who  begins 
to  take  an  active  interest  in  girls  is  also  seen  less  in  a  gang 
and  spends  more  time  with  one  close  companion.  Girls  have 
lost  all  of  their  nonchalance.  They  giggle,  blush,  bridle,  run 
away.  Boys  become  shy,  embarrassed,  taciturn,  and  avoid 
the  society  of  girls  in  the  daytime  and  on  the  brilliant  moon- 
lit nights  for  which  they  accuse  the  girls  of  having  an 
exhibitionistic  preference.  Friendships  fall  more  strictly 
within  the  relationship  group.  The  boy's  need  for  a  trusted 
confidant  is  stronger  than  that  of  the  girl,  for  only  the 
most  adroit  and  hardened  Don  Juans  do  their  own  courting. 
7'here  are  occasions,  of  course,  when  two  youngsters  just 
past  adolescence,  fearful  of  ridicule,  even  from  their  nearest 
friends  and  relatives,  will  slip  away  alone  into  the  bush. 
More  frequently  still  an  older  man,  a  widower  or  a  divorced 
man  will  be  a  girl's  first  lover.  And  here  there  is  no  need 
for  an  ambassador.  The  older  man  is  neither  shy  nor 
frightened,  and  futhcrmore  there  is  no  one  whom  he  can 
trust  as  an  intermediary;  a  younger  man  would  betray  him, 
an  older  man  would  not  take  his  amours  seriously.  But 
the  first  spontaneous  experiment  of  adolescent  children  and 
the  amorous  excursions  of  the  older  men  among  the  young 
girls  of  the  village  are  variants  on  the  edge  of  the  recognized 
types  of  relationships;  so  also  is  the  first  experience  of  a 
young  boy  with  an  older  woman.  But  both  of  these  are 
exceedingly  frequent  occurrences,  so  that  the  success  of 
an  amatory  experience  is  seldom  jeopardized  by  double 
ignorance.  Nevertheless,  all  of  these  occasions  are  outside 
the  recognized  forms  into  which  sex  relations  fall.  The  little 


'So  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

)oy  arid  girl  are  branded  by  their  companions  as  guilty  of 
\autala  lai  titi  (presuming  above  their  ages)  as  is  the  boy 
who  loves  or  aspires  to  love  an  older  woman,  while  the 
idea  of  an  older  man  pursuing  a  young  girl  appeals  strongly 
lo  their  sense  ^o£  humor;  or  if  the  girl  is  very  young  and 
naiVe,  to  their  sense  of  unfitness.  "She  is  too  young,  too 
j  oung  yet.  He  is  too  old,"  they  will  say,  and  the  whole  weight 
tff  vigorous  disapproval  fell  upon  a  matai  who  was  known 
to  be  the  father  of  the  child  of  Lotu,  the  sixteen-year-old 
feeble-minded  girl  on  Olesega.  Discrepancy  in  age  or  experi- 
ence always  strikes  .them  as  comic  or  pathetic  according  to 
the  degree.  The  theoretical  punishment  which  is  meted  out 
to  a  disobedient  and  runaway  daughter  is  to  marry  her  to 
U)  very  old  man,  and  I  have  heard  a  nine-year-old  giggle 
contemptuously  over  her  mother's  preference  for  a  seven- 
veen-year-old  boy.  Worst  among  these  unpatterned  devia- 
uons  is  that  of  the  man  who  makes  love  to  some  young 
und  dependent  woman  of  his  household,  his  adopted  child 
or  his  wife's  younger  sister.  The  cry  of  incest  is  raised  against 
him  and  sometimes  feeling  runs  so  high  that  he  has  to 
leave  the  group. 

Besides  formal  marriage  there  are  only  two  types  of  sex 
relations  which  receive  any  formal  recognition  from  the 
community — love  affairs  between  unmarried  young  people 
{this  includes  the  widowed)  who  are  very  nearly  of  the  same 
age,  whether  leading  to  marriage  or  merely  a  passing  di- 
version; and  adultery. 

Between  the  unmarried  there  are  three  forms  of  relation- 
ship:  the  clandestine  encounter,  "under  the  palm  trees,"  the 
published  elopement,  Avaga,  and  the  ceremonious  courtship 
in  which  the  boy  "sits  before  the  girl";  and  on  the  edge 
of  these,  the  curious  form  of  surreptitious  rape,  called  moe- 
totolo,  crawling,  resorted  to  by  youths  who  find  favor  in  no 
maiden's  eyes. 

In  these  three  relationships,  the  boy  requires  a  confidant 
and  ambassador  whom  he  calls  a  soa.  Where  boys  are  close 
Companions,  this  relationship  may  extend  over  many  love 


SEXUAL    CUSTOMS    AND    SOCIAL    PRACTICE      58) 

affairs,  or  it  may  be  a  temporary  one,  terminating  with  th°. 
particular  love  affair.  The  soa  follows  the  pattern  of  th^ 
talking  chief  who  makes  material  demands  upon  his  chief 
in  return  for  the  immaterial  services  which  he  renders  hirv 
If  marriage  results  from  his  ambassadorship,  he  receive  -\ 
specially  fine  present  from  the  bridegroom.  The  choir/;  of 
a  soa  presents  many  difficulties.  If  the  lover  chooses  a  y/^adj , 
reliable  boy,  some  slightly  younger  relative  devoted  to  his 
interests,  a  boy  unambitious  in  affairs  of  the  hrurt,  ven 
likely  the  ambassador  will  bungle  the  whole  affair  through 
inexperience  and  lack  of  tact.  But  if  he  chooses  a  hand- 
some and  expert  wooer  who  knows  just  how  "to  speah 
softly  and  walk  gently,"  then  as  likely  as  not  the  girl  will 
prefer  the  second  to  the  principal.  This  difficulty  is  occa- 
sionally anticipated  by  employing  two  or  three  soas  antl 
setting  them  to  spy  on  each  other.  But  such  a  lack  of  trust 
is  likely  to  inspire  a  similar  attitude  in  the  agents,  and  as 
one  overcautious  and  disappointed  lover  told  me  ruefully,  "  I 
had  five  soas,  one  was  true  and  four  were  false." 

Among  possible  soas  there  are  two  preferences,  a  brothe* 
or  a  girl.  A  brother  is  by  definition  loyal,  while  a  girl  is 
far  more  skillful  for  "a  boy  can  only  approach  a  girl  in  tho 
evening,  or  when  no  one  is  by,  but  a  girl  can  go  with  her 
all  day  long,  walk  with  her  and  lie  on  the  mat  by  her,  eat  oft 
the  same  platter,  and  whisper  between  mouthfuls  the  name 
of  the  boy,  speaking  ever  of  him,  how  good  he  is,  how  gentle 
and  how  true,  how  worthy  of  love.  Yes,  best  of  all  is  the 
soafafine,  the  woman  ambassador."  But  the  difficulties  of 
obtaining  a  soafafine  are  great.  A  boy  may  not  choose  from 
his  own  female  relatives.  The  taboo  forbids  him  ever  to 
mention  such  matters  in  their  presence.  It  is  only  by  good 
chance  that  his  brother's  sweetheart  may  be  a  relative  of  the 
girl  upon  whom  he  has  set  his  heart;  or  some  other  piece 
of  good  fortune  may  throw  him  into  contact  with  a  girl 
or  woman  who  will  act  in  his  interests.  The  most  violent 
antagonisms  in  the  young  people's  groups  are  not  between 
ex-lovers,  arise  not  from  the  venom  of  the  deserted  nor  the 


590  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

smarting  pride  of  the  jilted,  but  occur  between  the  boy  and 
the  soa  who  has  betrayed  him,  or  a  lover  and  the  friend  of 
his  beloved  who  has  in  ar/  way  blocked  his  suit. 

In  the  strictly  clandestine  love  affair  the  lover  never  pre- 
sents himself  at  the  house  of  his  beloved.  His  soa  may  go 
there  in  a  group  or  upon  some  trumped-up  errand,  or  he 
also  may  avoid  the  house  and  find  opportunities  to  speak 
to  the  girl  while  she  is  fishing  or  going  to  and  from  the 
plantation.  It  is  his  task  to  sing  his  friend's  praise,  counter- 
act the  girl's  fears  and  objections,  and  finally  appoint  a  ren- 
dezvous. These  affairs  are  usually  of  short  duration  and  both 
boy  *nd  girl  may  be  carrying  on  several  at  once.  One  of  the 
recognized  causes  of  a  quarrel  is  the  resentment  of  the  first 
lover  against  his  successor  of  the  same  night,  "for  the  boy 
who  came  later  will  mock  him."  These  clandestine  lovers 
make  their  rendezvous  on  the  outskirts  of  the  village. 
"Under  the  palm  trees"  is  the  conventionalized  designation 
of  this  type  of  intrigue.  Very  often  three  or  four  couples  will 
have  a  common  rendezvous,  when  either  the  boys  or  the 
girls  are  relatives  who  are  friends.  Should  the  girl  ever 
grow  faint  or  dizzy,  it  is  the  boy's  part  to  climb  the  nearest 
palm  and  fetch  down  a  fresh  cocoanut  to  pour  on  her  face 
in  lieu  of  can  de  cologne.  In  native  theory,  barrenness  is  the 
punishment  of  promiscuity;  and,  vice  versa,  only  persistent 
monogamy  is  rewarded  by  conception.  When  a  pair  of  clan- 
destine experimenters,  whose  rank  is  so  low  that  their 
marriages  are  not  of  any  great  economic  importance,  become 
genuinely  attached  to  each  other  and  maintain  the  relation- 
ship over  several  months,  marriage  often  follows.  And  native 
sophistication  distinguishes  between  the  adept  lover  whose 
adventures  are  many  and  of  short  duration  and  the  less- 
skilled  man  who  can  find  no  better  proof  of  his  virility  than 
a  long  affair  ending  in  conception. 

Often  the  girl  is  afraid  to  venture  out  into  the  night, 
infested  with  ghosts  and  devils,  ghosts  that  strangle  one, 
ghosts  from  far-away  villages  who  come  in  canoes  to  kidnap 
the  girls  of  the  village,  ghosts  who  leap  upon  the  back  and 


SEXUAL    CUSTOMS    AND    SOCIAL    PRACTICE      59! 

may  not  be  shaken  off.  Or  she  may  feel  that  it  is  wiser  to 
remain  at  home,  and  if  necessary,  attest  her  presence  vocally. 
In  this  case  the  lover  braves  the  house;  taking  off  his  lava- 
lava,  he  greases  his  body  thoroughly  with  cocoanut  oil  so 
that  he  can  slip  through  the  fingers  of  pursuers  and  leave 
no  trace,  and  stealthily  raises  the  blinds  and  slips  into  the 
house.  The  prevalence  of  this  practice  gives  point  to  the 
familiar  incident  in  Polynesian  folk  tales  of  the  ill  fortune 
that  falls  the  luckless  hero  who  "sleeps  until  morning,  until 
the  rising  sun  reveals  his  presence  to  the  other  inmates  of 
the  house."  As  perhaps  a  dozen  or  more  people  and  several 
dogs  are  sleeping  in  the  house,  a  due  regard  for  silence  is 
sufficient  precaution.  But  it  is  this  habit  of  domestic  ren- 
dezvous which  lends  itself  to  the  peculiar  abuse  of  the 
moetotolo  t  or  sleep  crawler. 

The  moetotolo  is  the  only  sex  activity  which  presents  a 
definitely  abnormal  picture.  Ever  since  the  first  contact  with 
white  civilization,  rape,  in  the  form  of  violent  assault,  has 
occurred  occasionally  in  Samoa.  It  is  far  less  congenial,  how- 
ever, to  the  Samoan  attitude  than  moetotolo,  in  which  a  man 
stealthily  appropriates  the  favors  which  are  meant  for  an- 
other. The  need  for  guarding  against  'discovery  makes  con- 
versation impossible,  and  the  sleep  crawler  relies  upon  the 
girl's  expecting  a  lover  or  the  chance  that  she  will  indis- 
criminately accept  any  comer.  If  the  girl  suspects  and  re- 
sents him,  she  raises  a  great  outcry  and  the  whole  household 
gives  chase.  Catching  a  moetotolo  is  counted  great  sport,  and 
the  women,  who  feel  their  safety  endangered,  are  even  more 
active  in  pursuit  than  the  men.  One  luckless  youth  in  Luma 
neglected  to  remove  his  lavalava.  The  girl  discovered  him 
and  her  sister  succeeded  in  biting  a  piece  out  of  his  lavalava 
before  he  escaped.  This  she  proudly  exhibited  the  next  day. 
As  the  boy  had  been  too  dull  to  destroy  his  lavalava,  the  evi- 
dence against  him  was  circumstantial  and  he  was  the  laugh- 
ing stock  of  the  village;  the  children  wrote  a  dance  song 
about  it  and  sang  it  after  him  wherever  he  went.  The  moe- 
totolo problem  is  complicated  by  the  possibility  that  a  boy 


592  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

of  the  household  may  be  the  offender  and  may  take  refuge 
in  the  hue  and  cry  following  the  discovery.  It  also  provides 
the  girl  with  an  excellent  alibi,  since  she  has  only  to  call 
out  "moetotolo"  in  case  her  lover  is  discovered.  "To  the  fam- 
ily and  the  village  that  may  be  a  moetotolo,  but  it  is  not  so  in 
the  hearts  of  the  girl  and  the  boy." 

Two  motives  are  given  for  this  unsavory  activity,  anger 
and  failure  in  love.  The  Samoan  girl  who  plays  the  coquette 
does  so  at  her  peril.  "She  will  say,  'Yes,  I  will  meet  you  to- 
night by  that  old  cocoanut  tree  just  beside  the  devilfish  stone 
when  the  moon  goes  down.'  And  the  boy  will  wait  and  wait 
and  wait  all  night  long.  It  will  grow  very  dark;  lizards  will 
drop  on  his  head;  the  ghost  boats  will  come  into  the  channel. 
He  will  be  very  much  afraid.  But  he  will  wait  there  until 
dawn,  until  his  hair  is  wet  with  dew  and  his  heart  is  very 
angry  and  still  she  does  not  come.  Then  in  revenge  he  will 
attempt  a  moetotolo.  Especially  will  he  do  so  if  he  hears 
that  she  has  met  another  that  night."  The  other  set  explana- 
tion is  that  a  particular  boy  cannot  win  a  sweetheart  by  any 
legitimate  means,  and  there  is  no  form  of  prostitution,  ex- 
cept guest  prostitution,  in  Samoa.  As  some  of  the  boys  who 
were  notorious  moetotolos  were  among  the  most  charming 
and  good-looking  youths  of  the  village,  this  is  a  little  hard 
to  understand.  Apparently,  these  youths,  frowned  upon  in 
one  or  two  tentative  courtships,  inflamed  by  the  loudly 
proclaimed  success  of  their  fellows  and  the  taunts  against 
their  own  inexperience,  cast  established  wooing  procedure 
to  the  winds  and  attempt  a  moetotolo.  And  once  caught, 
once  branded,  no  girl  will  ever  pay  any  attention  to  them 
again.  They  must  wait  until  as  older  men,  with  position  and 
title  to  offer,  they  can  choose  between  some  weary  and 
bedraggled  wanton  or  the  unwilling  young  daughter  of 
ambitious  and  selfish  parents.  But  years  will  intervene  be- 
fore this  is  possible,  and  shut  out  from  the  amours  in  which 
his  companions  are  engaging,  a  boy  makes  one  attempt  after 
another,  sometimes  successfully,  sometimes  only  to  be 
taught  and  beaten  and  mocked  by  the  village,  and  always 


SEXUAL    CUSTOMS    AND    SOCIAL    PRACTICE      59  •* 

digging  the  pit  deeper  under  his  feet.  Often  partially  satis- 
factory solutions  are  relationships  with  men.  There  was  one 
such  pair  in  the  village,  a  notorious  moetotolo,  and  a  serious- 
minded  youth  who  wished  to  keep  his  heart  free  for  political 
intrigue.  The  moetotolo,  therefore,  complicates  and  adds  zest 
to  the  surreptitious  love-making  which  is  conducted  at  home, 
while  the  danger  of  being  missed,  the  undesirability  of 
chance  encounters  abroad,  rain  and  the  fear  of  ghosts,  com- 
plicate "love  under  the  palm  trees." 

Between  these  strictly  sub-rosa  affairs  and  a  final  offer 
of  marriage  there  is  an  intermediate  form  of  courtship  in 
which  the  girl  is  called  upon  by  the  boy.  As  this  is  regarded 
as  a  tentative  move  towards  matrimony,  both  relationship 
groups  must  be  more  or  less  favorably  inclined  towards  the 
union.  With  his  sou  at  his  side  and  provided  with  a  basket 
of  fish,  an  octopus  ;ir  so,  or  a  chicken,  the  suitor  presents 
himself  at  the  girl's  home  before  the  late  evening  meal.  If 
his  girt  is  accepted,  it  is  a  sign  that  the  family  of  the  girl  are 
willing  for  him  to  pay  his  addresses  to  her.  He  is  formally 
welcomed  by  the  matai,  sits  with  reverently  bowed  head 
throughout  the  evening  prayer,  and  then  he  and  his  soa 
stay  for  supper.  But  the  suitor  does  not  approach  his 
beloved.  They  say:  "If  you  wish  to  know  who  is  really  the 
lo\er,  look  then  not  at  the  boy  who  sits  by  her  side,  looks 
boldly  into  her  eyes  and  twists  the  flowers  in  her  necklace 
around  his  fingers  or  steals  the  hibiscus  flower  from  her 
hair  that  he  may  wear  it  behind  his  ear.  Do  not  think  it  is 
he  who  whispers  softly  in  her  ear,  or  says  to  her,  'Sweet* 
heart,  wait  for  me  to-night.  After  the  moon  has  set,  I  will 
come  to  you/  or  who  teases  her  by  saying  she  has  many 
lovers.  Look  instead  at  the  boy  who  sits  afar  off,  who  sits 
with  bent  head  and  takes  no  part  in  the  joking.  And  you 
will  see  that  his  eyes  are  always  turned  softly  on  the  girl. 
Always  he  watches  her  and  never  does  he  miss  a  movement 
of  her  lips.  Perhaps  she  will  wink  at  him,  perhaps  she  will 
raise  her  eyebrows,  perhaps  she  will  make  a  sign  with  her 
band.  He  must  always  be  wakeful  and  watching  or  he  will 


594  TKE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

miss  it."  The  soa  meanwhile  pays  the  girl  elaborate  and  osten- 
tatious court  and  in  undertones  pleads  the  cause  of  his 
friend.  After  dinner,  the  center  of  the  house  is  accorded  the 
young  people  to  play  cards,  sing  or  merely  sit  about,  exchang- 
ing a  series  of  broad  pleasantries.  This  type  of  courtship 
varies  from  occasional  calls  to  daily  attendance.  The  food 
gift  need  not  accompany  each  visit,  but  is  as  essential  at  the 
initial  call  as  is  an  introduction  in  the  West.  The  way  of 
such  declared  lovers  is  hard.  The  girl  does  not  wish  to  marry, 
nor  to  curtail  her  amours  in  deference  to  a  definite  betrothal. 
Possibly  she  may  also  dislike  her  suitor,  while  he  in  turn 
may  be  the  victim  of  family  ambition.  Now  that  the  whole 
village  knows  him  for  her  suitor,  the  girl  gratifies  her  vanity 
by  avoidance,  by  perverseness.  He  comes  in  the  evening,  she 
has  gone  to  another  house;  he  follows  her  there,  she  im- 
mediately returns  home.  When  such  courtship  ripens  into  an 
Accepted  proposal  of  marriage,  the  boy  often  goes  to  sleep 
in  the  house  of  his  intended  bride  and  often  the  union  is 
surreptitiously  consummated.  Ceremonial  marriage  is  de- 
ferred until  such  time  as  the  boy's  family  have  planted  or 
collected  enough  food  and  other  property  and  the  girl's 
family  have  gotten  together  a  suitable  dowry  of  tapa 
md  mats. 

In  such  manner  are  conducted  the  love  affairs  of  the 
average  young  people  of  the  same  village,  and  of  the  plebeian 
young  people  of  neighboring  villages.  From  this  free  and 
easy  experimentation,  the  taupo  is  excepted.  Virginity  is  a 
legal  requirement  for  her.  At  her  marriage,  in  front  of 
all  the  people,  in  a  house  brilliantly  lit,  the  talking  chief 
of  the  bridegroom  will  take  the  tokens  of  her  virginity.1  In 
former  days  should  she  prove  not  to  be  a  virgin,  her  female 
relatives  fell  upon  and  beat  her  with  stones,  disfiguring  and 
sometimes  fatally  injuring  the  girl  who  had  shamed  their 
house.  The  public  ordeal  sometimes  prostrated  the  girl  as 
much  as  a  week,  although  ordinarily  a  girl  recovers  from 
first  intercourse  in  two  or  three  hours,  and  women  seldom 
lie  abed  more  than  a  few  hours  after  childbirth.  Although 


SEXUAL    CUSTOMS    AND    SOCIAL    PRACTICE      593 

this  virginity-testing  ceremony  was  theoretically  observed  at 
wedding  of  people  of  all  ranks,  it  was  simply  ignored  it 
the  boy  knew  that  it  was  an  idle  form,  and  "a  wise  girl  who 
is  not  a  virgin  will  tell  all  to  the  talking  chiefs  of  her  hus- 
band, so  that  she  be  not  ashamed  before  all  the  people." 

The  attitude  towards  virginity  is  a  curious  one.  Chris- 
tianity has,  of  course,  introduced  a  moral  premium  on 
chastity.  The  Samoans  regard  this  attitude  with  reverent  but 
complete  skepticism  and  the  concept  of  celibacy  is  absolutely 
meaningless  to  them.  But  virginity  definitely  adds  to  a  girl's 
attractiveness,  the  wooing  of  a  virgin  is  considered  far  more 
of  a  feat  than  the  conquest  of  a  more  experienced  heart,  and 
a  really  successful  Don  Juan  turns  most  of  his  attention  to 
their  seduction.  One  youth  who  at  twenty-four  married 
a  girl  who  was  still  a  virgin  was  the  laughing  stock  of  the 
village  over  his  freely  related  trepidation  which  revealed  the 
fact  that  at  twenty-four,  although  he  had  had  many  love 
affairs,  he  had  never  before  won  the  favors  of  a  virgin. 

The  bridegroom,  his  relatives  and  the  bride  and  her 
relatives  all  receive  prestige,  if  she  proves  to  be  a  virgin,  so 
that  the  girl  of  rank  who  might  wish  to  forestall  this  pain- 
ful public  ceremony  is  thwarted  not  only  by  the  anxious 
chaperonage  of  the  relatives  but  by  the  boy's  eagerness  for 
prestige.  One  young  Lothario  eloped  to  his  father's  house 
with  a  girl  of  high  rank  from  another  village  and  refused  tq 
live  with  her  because,  said  he,  "I  thought  maybe  I  woulcj 
marry  that  girl  and  there  would  be  a  big  malaga  and  a  big 
ceremony  and  I  would  wait  and  get  the  credit  for  marrying 
a  virgin.  But  the  next  day  her  father  came  and  said  that  she 
could  not  marry  me,  and  she  cried  very  much.  So  I  said  te 
her,  'Well,  there  is  no  use  now  to  wait  any  longer.  Now  we. 
will  run  away  into  the  bush.' "  It  is  conceivable  that  the  girl 
would  often  trade  the  temporary  prestige  for  an  escape  from 
the  public  ordeal,  but  in  proportion  as  his  ambitions  were 
honorable,  the  boy  would  frustrate  her  efforts. 

Just  as  the  clandestine  and  casual  "love  under  the  palm 
trees"  is  the  pattern  irregularity  for  those  of  humble  birth, 


5^6  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

so  the  elopement  has  its  archetype  in  the  love  affairs  of  the 
tnupo,  and  the  other  chiefs'  daughters.  These  girls  of  noble 
birth  are  carefully  guarded;  not  for  them  are  secret  trysts 
at  night  or  stolen  meetings  in  the  daytime.  Where  parents 
of  lower  rank  complacently  ignore  their  daughters'  experi- 
ments, the  high  chief  guards  his  daughters'  virginity  as  he 
guards  the  honor  of  his  name,  his  precedence  in  the  kava 
ceremony  or  any  other  prerogative  of  his  high  degree.  Some 
old  woman  of  the  household  is  told  off  to  be  the  girl's  con- 
stant companion  and  duenna.  The  taupo  may  not  visit  in 
other  houses  in  the  village,  or  leave  the  house  alone  at  night. 
When  she  sleeps,  an  older  woman  sleeps  by  her  side.  Never 
may  she  go  to  another  village  unchaperoned.  In  her  own 
village  she  goes  soberly  about  her  tasks,  bathing  in  the  sea, 
working  in  the  plantation,  safe  under  the  jealous  guardian- 
ship of  the  women  of  her  own  village.  She  runs  little  risk 
from  the  moetotolo,  for  one  who  outraged  the  taupo  of  his 
tillage  would  formerly  have  been  beaten  to  death,  and 
now  would  have  to  flee  from  the  village.  The  prestige  of  the 
village  is  inextricably  bound  up  with  the  high  repute  of  the 
taupo  and  few  young  men  in  the  village  would  dare  to  be 
her  lovers.  Marriage  to  them  is  out  of  the  question,  and 
iheir  companions  would  revile  them  as  traitors  rather  than 
envy  them  such  doubtful  distinction.  Occasionally  a  youth 
of  very  high  rank  in  the  same  village  will  risk  an  elopement, 
but  even  this  is  a  rare  occurrence.  For  tradition  says  that 
the  taupo  must  marry  outside  her  village,  marry  a  high  chief 
or  a  manaia  of  another  village.  Such  a  marriage  is  an  occa- 
sion for  great  festivities  and  solemn  ceremony.  The  chief 
and  all  of  his  talking  chiefs  must  come  to  propose  for  her 
hand,  come  in  person  bringing  gifts  for  her  talking  chiefs. 
If  the  talking  chiefs  of  the  girl  are  satisfied  that  this  is  a 
lucrative  and  desirable  match,  and  the  family  are  satisfied 
with  the  rank  and  appearance  of  the  suitor,  the  marriage 
is  agreed  upon.  Little  attention  is  paid  to  the  opinion  of 
the  girl.  So  fixed  is  the  idea  that  the  marriage  of  the  taupo 
is  the  affair  of  the  talking  chiefs  that  Europeanized  natives 


SEXUAL    CUSTOMS    AND    SOCIAL    PRACTICE      59? 

on  the  main  island  refuse  to  make  their  daughters  taufos 
because  the  missionaries  say  a  girl  should  make  her  own 
choice,  and  once  she  is  a  tatipo,  they  regard  the  matter  as 
inevitably  taken  out  of  their  hands.  After  the  betrothal  is 
agreed  upon  the  bridegroom  returns  to  his  village  to  collect 
food  and  property  for  the  wedding.  His  village  sets  aside 
a  piece  of  land  which  is  called  the  "Place  of  the  Lady"  and 
is  her  property  and  the  property  of  her  children  forever,  and 
on  this  land  they  build  a  house  for  the  bride.  Meanwhile, 
the  bridegroom  has  left  behind  him  in  the  house  of  the  bride, 
a  talking  chief,  the  counterpart  of  the  humbler  soa.  This  is 
one  of  the  talking  chiefs  best  opportunities  to  acquire 
wealth.  He  stays  as  the  emissary  of  his  chief,  to  watch  over 
his  future  bride.  He  works  for  the  bride's  family  and  each 
week  the  matai  of  the  bride  must  reward  him  with  a  hand- 
some present.  As  an  affianced  wife  of  a  chief,  more  and  more 
circumspect  conduct  is  enjoined  upon  the  girl.  Did  she 
formerly  joke  with  the  boys  of  the  village,  she  must  joke  no 
longer,  or  the  talking  chief,  on  the  watch  for  any  lapse  from 
high  decorum,  will  go  home  to  his  chief  and  report  that  his 
bride  is  unworthy  of  such  honor.  This  custom  is  particularly 
susceptible  to  second  thought  on  the  part  of  either  side.  Does 
the  bridegroom  repent  of  the  bargain,  he  bribes  his  talking 
chief  (who  is  usually  a  young  man,  not  one  of  the  important 
talking  chiefs  who  will  benefit  greatly  by  the  marriage  it* 
self)  to  be  oversensitive  to  the  behavior  of  the  bride  or  the 
treatment  he  receives  in  the  bride's  family.  And  this  is  the 
time  in  which  the  bride  will  elope,  if  her  affianced  husband 
is  too  unacceptable.  For  while  no  boy  of  her  own  village  will 
risk  her  dangerous  favors,  a  boy  from  another  village  will 
enormously  enhance  his  prestige  if  he  elopes  with  the  tatipo 
of  a  rival  community.  Once  she  has  eloped,  the  projected 
alliance  is,  of  course,  broken  off,  although  her  angry  parents 
may  refuse  to  sanction  her  marriage  with  her  lover  and 
marry  her  for  punishment  to  some  old  man. 

So  great  is  the  prestige  won  by  the  village,  one  of  whose 
young  men  succeeds  in  eloping  with  a  taupo,  that  often  the 


598  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

whole  effort  of  a  malaga  is  concentrated  upon  abducting  the 
taupo,  whose  virginity  will  be  respected  in  direct  relation 
to  the  chances  of  her  family  and  village  consenting  to 
ratify  the  marriage.  As  the  abductor  is  often  of  high  rank, 
the  village  often  ruefully  accepts  the  compromise. 

This  elopement  pattern,  given  meaning  by  the  restrictions 
under  which  the  taupo  lives  and  this  intervillage  rivalry, 
is  carried  down  to  the  lower  ranks  where  indeed  it  is  prac- 
tically meaningless.  Seldom  is  the  chaperonage  exercised 
over  the  girl  of  average  family  severe  enough  to  make  elope- 
ment the  only  way  of  consummating  a  love  affair.  But  the 
elopement  is  spectacular;  the  boy  wishes  to  increase  his 
reputation  as  a  successful  Don  Juan,  and  the  girl  wishes 
to  proclaim  her  conquest  and  also  often  hopes  that  the  elope- 
ment will  end  in  marriage.  The  eloping  pair  run  away  to  the 
parents  of  the  boy  or  to  some  of  his  relatives  and  wait  for 
the  girl's  relatives  to  pursue  her.  As  one  boy  related  the  tale 
of  such  an  adventure:  "We  ran  away  in  the  rain,  nine  miles 
to  Leone,  in  the  pouring  rain,  to  my  father's  house.  The  next 
day  her  family  came  to  get  her,  and  my  father  said  to  me, 
'How  is  it,  do  you  wish  to  marry  this  girl,  shall  I  ask  her 
father  to  leave  her  here?'  And  I  said,  'Oh,  no.  I  just  eloped 
with  her  for  public  information.'"  Elopements  are  much 
less  frequent  than  the  clandestine  love  affairs  because  the 
girl  takes  far  more  risk.  She  publicly  renounces  her  often 
nominal  claims  to  virginity;  she  embroils  herself  with  her 
family,  who  in  former  times,  and  occasionally  even  to-day, 
would  beat  her  soundly  and  shave  off  her  hair.  Nine  times 
out  of  ten,  her  lover's  only  motive  is  vanity  and  display,  for 
the  boys  say,  "The  girls  hate  a  moetotolo,  but  they  all  love 
an  avaga  (eloping)  man." 

The  elopement  also  occurs  as  a  practical  measure  when 
one  family  is  opposed  to  a  marriage  upon  which  a  pair  of 
young  people  have  determined.  The  young  people  take 
refuge  with  the  friendly  side  of  the  family.  But  unless  the 
recalcitrant  family  softens  and  consents  to  legalize  the 
marriage  by  a  formal  exchange  of  property,  the  principals 


SEXUAL    CUSTOMS    AND    SOCIAL    PRACTICE      599 

can  do  nothing  to  establish  their  status.  A  young  couple  may 
have  had  several  children  and  still  be  classed  as  "elopers," 
and  if  the  marriage  is  finally  legalized  after  long  delay, 
this  stigma  will  always  cling  to  them.  It  is  far  more  serious 
a  one  than  a  mere  accusation  of  sexual  irregularity,  for  there 
is  a  definite  feeling  that  the  whole  community  procedure  has 
been  outraged  by  a  pair  of  young  upstarts. 

Reciprocal  gift-giving  relations  are  maintained  between 
the  two  families  as  long  as  the  marriage  lasts,  and  even  after- 
wards if  there  are  children.  The  birth  of  each  child,  the 
death  of  a  member  of  either  household,  a  visit  of  the  wife 
to  her  family,  or  if  he  lives  with  her  people,  of  the  husband 
to  his,  is  marked  by  the  presentation  of  gifts. 

In  premarital  relationships,  a  convention  of  love-making 
is  strictly  adhered  to.  True,  this  is  a  convention  of  speech, 
rather  than  of  action.  A  boy  declares  that  he  will  die  if  a  girl 
refuses  him  her  favors  but  Samoans  laugh  at  stories  of 
romantic  love,  scoff  at  fidelity  to  a  long-absent  wife  or  mis- 
tress, believe  explicitly  that  one  love  will  quickly  cure  an- 
other. The  fidelity  which  is  followed  by  pregnancy  is  taken 
as  proof  positive  of  a  real  attachment,  although  having  many 
mistresses  is  never  out  of  harmony  with  a  declaration  of 
affection  of  each.  The  composition  of  ardent  love  songs,  the 
fashioning  of  long  and  flowery  love  letters,  the  invocation 
of  the  moon,  the  stars  and  the  sea  in  verbal  courtship,  all 
serve  to  give  Samoan  love-making  a  close  superficial  re- 
semblance to  our  own,  yet  the  attitude  is  far  closer  to  that 
of  Schnitzler's  hero  in  The  Affairs  of  AnatoL  Romantic  love 
as  it  occurs  in  our  civilization,  inextricably  bound  up  with 
ideas  of  monogamy,  exclusiveness,  jealousy  and  undeviating 
fidelity  does  not  occur  in  Samoa.  Our  attitude  is  a  compound, 
the  final  result  of  many  converging  lines  of  development  in 
Western  civilization,  of  the  institution  of  monogamy,  of  the 
ideas  of  the  age  of  chivalry,  of  the  ethics  of  Christianity. 
Even  a  passionate  attachment  to  one  person  which  lasts  for 
a  long  period  and  persists  in  the  face  of  discouragement  but 
does  not  bar  out  other  relationships,  is  rare  among  the 


fX)0  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

Samoans.  Marriage,  on  the  other  hand,  is  regarded  as  a 
social  and  economic  arrangement,  in  which  relative  wealth, 
rank,  and  skill  of  husband  and  wife,  all  must  be  taken  into 
consideration.  There  are  many  marriages  in  which  both  indi- 
viduals, especially  if  they  are  over  thirty,  are  completely 
faithful.  But  this  must  be  attributed  to  the  ease  of  sexual 
adjustment  on  the  one  hand,  and  to  the  ascendancy  of  other 
interests,  social  organization  for  the  men,  children  for  the 
women,  over  sex  interests,  rather  than  to  a  passionate  fixation 
upon  the  partner  in  the  marriage.  As  the  Samoans  lack  the 
inhibitions  and  the  intricate  specialization  of  sex  feeling 
which  makes  marriages  of  convenience  unsatisfactory,  it  is 
possible  to  bulwark  marital  happiness  with  other  props  than 
temporary  passionate  devotion.  Suitability  and  expediency 
become  the  deciding  factors. 

Adultery  does  not  necessarily  mean  a  broken  marriage. 
A  chiefs  wife  who  commits  adultery  is  deemed  to  have 
dishonored  her  high  position,  and  is  usually  discarded,  al- 
though the  chief  will  openly  resent  her  remarriage  to  any 
one  of  lower  rank.  If  the  lover  is  considered  the  more 
culpable,  the  village  will  take  public  vengeance  upon  him. 
In  less  conspicuous  cases  the  amount  of  fuss  which  is  made 
over  adultery  is  dependent  upon  the  relative  rank  of  the 
offender  and  offended,  or  the  personal  jealousy  which  is 
only  occasionally  aroused.  If  either  the  injured  husband  or 
the  injured  wife  is  sufficiently  incensed  to  threaten  physical 
violence,  the  trespasser  may  have  to  resort  to  a  public  ifoga% 
the  ceremonial  humiliation  before  some  one  whose  pardon 
is  asked.  He  goes  to  the  house  of  the  man  he  has  injured, 
accorrpanied  by  all  the  men  of  his  household,  each  one 
wrapped  in  a  fine  mat,  the  currency  of  the  country;  the 
suppliants  seat  themselves  outside  the  house,  fine  mats  spread 
over  their  heads,  hands  folded  on  their  breasts,  heads  bent  in 
Httitude  of  the  deepest  dejection  and  humiliation.  "And  if 
the  man  is  very  angry  he  will  say  no  word.  All  day  he  will 
go  about  his  business;  he  will  braid  cinet  with  a  quick  hand, 
he  will  talk  loudly  to  his  wife,  and  call  out  greetings  to 


SEXUAL    CUSTOMS    AND    SOCIAL    PRACTICE      Coi 

those  who  pass  in  the  roadway,  but  he  will  take  no  notice 
of  those  who  sit  on  his  own  terrace,  who  dare  not  raise 
their  eyes  or  make  any  movement  to  go  away.  In  olden  days, 
if  his  heart  was  not  softened,  he  might  take  a  club  and 
together  with  his  relatives  go  out  and  kill  those  who  sit 
without.  But  now  he  only  keeps  them  waiting,  waiting  all 
day  long.  The  sun  will  beat  down  upon  them,  the  rain  will 
come  and  beat  on  their  heads  and  still  he  will  say  no  word. 
Then  towards  evening  he  will  say  at  last:  'Come,  it  is 
enough.  Enter  the  house  and  drink  the  kava.  Eat  the  food 
which  I  will  set  before  you  and  we  will  cast  our  trouble  into 
the  sea.' "  Then  the  fine  mats  are  accepted  as  payment  for 
the  injury,  the  ifvga  becomes  a  matter  of  village  history 
and  old  gossips  will  say,  "Oh,  yes,  Lua!  no,  she's  not  lona's 
child.  Her  father  is  that  chief  over  in  the  next  village.  He 
ifod  to  lona  before  she  was  born."  If  the  offender  is  of 
much  lower  rank  than  the  injured  husband,  his  chief,  or 
his  father  (if  he  is  only  a  young  boy)  will  have  to  humiliate 
himself  in  his  place.  Where  the  offender  is  a  woman,  she 
and  her  female  relatives  will  make  similar  amends.  But 
they  will  run  far  greater  danger  of  being  roundly  beaten 
and  berated;  the  peaceful  teachings  of  Christianity — perhaps 
because  they  were  directed  against  actual  killing,  rather  thati 
the  slightly  less  fatal  encounters  of  women — have  made  fai 
less  change  in  the  belligerent  activities  of  the  women  than 
in  those  of  the  men. 

If,  on  the  other  hand,  a  wife  really  tires  of  her  husband, 
or  a  husband  of  his  wife,  divorce  is  a  simple  and  informal 
matter,  the  non-resident  simply  going  home  to  his  or  her 
family,  and  the  relationship  is  said  to  have  "passed  away/* 
It  is  a  very  brittle  monogamy,  often  trespassed  and  more 
often  broken  entirely.  But  many  adulteries  occur — between, 
a  young,  shy  bachelor  and  a  married  woman,  or  a  temporary 
widower  and  some  young  girl — which  hardly  threaten  th« 
continuity  of  established  relationships.  The  claim  that  a 
woman  has  on  her  family's  land  renders  her  as  independent 
as  her  husband,  and  so  there  are  no  marriages  of  any  dura- 


602  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

tion  in  which  either  person  is  actively  unhappy.  A  tiny 
flare-up  and  a  woman  goes  home  to  her  own  people;  if  her 
husband  does  not  care  to  conciliate  her,  each  seeks  an- 
other mate. 

Within  the  family,  the  wife  obeys  and  serves  her  husband, 
in  theory,  though,  of  course,  the  hen-pecked  husband  is  a 
frequent  phenomenon.  In  families  of  high  rank,  her  personal 
service  to  her  husband  is  taken  over  by  the  taupo  and  the 
talking  chief  but  the  wife  always  retains  the  right  to  render 
a  high  chief  sacred  personal  services,  such  as  cutting  his 
hair.  A  wife's  rank  can  never  exceed  her  husband's  because 
it  is  always  directly  dependent  upon  it.  Her  family  may  be 
richer  and  more  illustrious  than  his,  and  she  may  actually 
exercise  more  influence  over  the  village  affairs  through  her 
blood  relatives  than  he,  but  within  the  life  of  the  household 
and  the  village,  she  is  a  tausi,  wife  of  a  talking  chief,  or  a 
falettta,  wife  of  a  chief.  This  sometimes  results  in  conflict, 
as  in  the  case  of  Pusa  who  was  the  sister  of  the  last  holder  of 
the  highest  title  on  the  island.  This  title  was  temporarily 
extinct.  She  was  also  the  wife  of  the  highest  chief  in  the 
village.  Should  her  brother,  the  heir,  resume  the  higher  title, 
her  husband's  rank  and  her  rank  as  his  wife  would  suffer. 
Helping  her  brother  meant  lowering  the  prestige  of  her  hus- 
band. As  she  was  the  type  of  woman  who  cared  a  great  deal 
more  for  wire  pulling  than  for  public  recognition,  she  threw 
her  influence  in  for  her  brother.  Such  conflicts  are  not  un- 
common, but  they  present  a  clear-cut  choice,  usually  re- 
inforced by  considerations  of  residence.  If  a  woman  lives  in 
her  husband's  household,  and  if,  furthermore,  that  house- 
hold is  in  another  village,  her  interest  is  mainly  enlisted  in 
her  husband's  cause;  but  if  she  lives  with  her  own  family,  in 
her  own  village,  her  allegiance  is  likely  to  cling  to  the  blood 
relatives  from  whom  she  receives  reflected  glory  and  in- 
formal privilege,  although  no  status. 

NOTE 
1  This  custom  is  now  forbidden  by  law,  but  is  only  gradually  dying  out 


THE  SAVAGE'S  DREAD  OF  INCEST* 

By  S1GMUND  FREUD 

PRIMITIVE  man  is  known  to  us  by  the  stages  of  devel- 
opment through  which  he  has  passed:  that  is,  through  the 
inanimate  monuments  and  implements  which  he  has  left 
behind  for  us,  through  our  knowledge  of  his  art,  his  re- 
ligion and  his  attitude  towards  life,  which  we  have  re- 
ceived either  directly  or  through  the  medium  of  legends, 
myths  and  fairy  tales;  and  through  the  remnants  of  his 
ways  of  thinking  that  survive  in  our  own  manners  and 
customs.  Moreover,  in  a  certain  sense  he  is  still  our  con- 
temporary: there  are  people  whom  we  still  consider  more 
closely  related  to  primitive  man  than  to  ourselves,  in  whom 
we  therefore  recognize  the  direct  descendants  and  repre- 
sentatives of  earlier  man.  We  can  thus  judge  the  so-called 
savage  and  semisavage  races;  their  psychic  life  assumes 
a  peculiar  interest  for  us,  for  we  can  recognize  in  their 
psychic  life  a  well-preserved,  early  stage  of  our  own  deveL 
opment. 

If  this  assumption  is  correct,  a  comparison  of  the  "Psy- 
chology of  Primitive  Races"  as  taught  by  folklore,  with 
the  psychology  of  the  neurotic  as  it  has  become  known 
through  psychoanalysis,  will  reveal  numerous  points  of 
correspondence  and  throw  new  light  on  subjects  that  are 
more  or  less  familiar  to  us. 

For  outer  as  well  as  for  inner  reasons,  I  am  choosing  for 
this  comparison  those  tribes  which  have  been  described 
by  ethnographists  as  being  most  backward  and  wretched: 
the  aborigines  of  the  youngest  continent,  namely,  Aus- 
tralia, whose  fauna  has  also  preserved  for  us  so  much  that 
is  archaic  and  no  longer  to  be  found  elsewhere. 

*  Totem  and  Taboo.    New  York:  Dodd,  Mead  &  Co. 

603 


604  THE    MAKING     OF     MAN 

The  aborigines  of  Australia  are  looked  upon  as  a  peculiai 
race  which  shows  neither  physical  nor  linguistic  relation- 
ship with  its  nearest  neighbors,  the  Melanesian,  Polynesian 
and  Malayan  races.  They  do  not  build  houses  or  permanent 
huts;  they  do  not  cultivate  the  soil  or  keep  any  domestic 
animals  except  dogs;  and  they  do  not  even  know  the  art 
of  pottery.  They  live  exclusively  on  the  flesh  of  all  sorts 
of  animals  which  they  kill  in  the  chase,  and  on  the  roots 
which  they  dig.  Kings  or  chieftains  are  unknown  among 
;hem,  and  all  communal  affairs  are  decided  by  the  elders 
in  assembly.  It  is  quite  doubtful  whether  they  evince  any 
:races  of  religion  in  the  form  of  worship  of  higher  beings. 
The  tribes  living  in  the  interior  who  have  to  contend  with 
the  greatest  vicissitudes  of  life  owing  to  a  scarcity  of  water, 
seem  in  every  way  mere  primitive  than  those  who  live 
near  the  coast. 

We  surely  would  not  expect  that  these  poor  naked  can- 
nibals should  be  moral  in  their  sex  life  according  to  our 
ideas,  or  that  they  should  have  imposed  a  high  degree  of 
restriction  upon  their  sexual  impulses.  And  yet  we  learn 
that  they  have  considered  it  their  duty  to  exercise  the 
most  searching  care  and  the  most  painful  rigor  in  guard- 
ing against  incestuous  sexual  relations.  In  fact,  their  whole 
social  organization  seems  to  serve  this  object  or  to  have 
been  brought  into  relation  with  its  attainment. 

Among  the  Australians  the  system  of  Totemism  takes 
the  place  of  all  religious  and  social  institutions.  Australian 
tribes  are  divided  into  smaller  septs  or  clans  each  taking 
rhe  name  of  its  totem.  Now  what  is  a  totem?  As  a  rule  it 
is  an  animal,  either  edible  and  harmless,  or  dangerous  and 
feared;  more  rarely  the  totem  is  a  plant  or  a  force  of 
nature  (rain,  water),  which  stands  in  a  peculiar  relation 
to  the  whole  clan.  The  totem  is  first  of  all  the  tribal  an- 
cestor of  the  clan,  as  well  as  its  tutelary  spirit  and  pro- 
tector; it  sends  oracles  and,  though  otherwise  dangerous, 
the  totem  knows  and  spares  its  children.  The  members 
of  a  totem  are  therefore  under  a  sacred  obligation-  not  to 


SEXUAL    CUSTOMS    AND    SOCIAL    PRACTICE       605 

kill  (destroy)  their  totem,  to  abstain  from  eating  its  meat 
or  from  any  other  enjoyment  of  it.  Any  violation  of  these 
prohibitions  is  automatically  punished.  The  character  of  a 
totem  is  inherent  not  only  in  a  single  animal  or  a  single 
being  but  in  all  the  members  of  the  species.  From  time 
to  time  festivals  are  held  at  which  the  members  of  a  totem 
represent  or  imitate,  in  ceremonial  dances,  the  movements 
and  characteristics  of  their  totems. 

The  totem  is  hereditary  either  through  the  maternal  or 
the  paternal  line  (maternal  transmission  probably  always 
preceded  and  was  only  later  supplanted  by  the  paternal). 
The  attachment  to  a  totem  is  the  foundation  of  all  the 
social  obligations  of  an  Australian:  it  extends  on  the  one 
hand  beyond  the  tribal  relationship,  and  on  the  other  hand 
it  supersedes  consanguineous  relationship.1 

The  totem  is  not  limited  to  district  or  to  locality;  the 
members  of  a  totem  may  live  separated  from  one  another 
and  on  friendly  terms  with  idherents  of  other  totems. 

And  now,  finally,  we  must  consider  that  peculiarity  of 
the  totemic  system  which  attracts  the  interest  of  the  psy- 
choanalyst. Almost  everywhere  the  totem  prevails  there 
also  exists  the  law  that  the  members  of  the  same  totem 
are  not  allowed  to  enter  into  sexual  relations  with  each 
other;  that  is,  that  they  cannot  marry  each  other.  This  rep 
resents  the  exogamy  which  is  associated  with  the  totem. 

This  sternly  maintained  prohibiton  is  very  remarkable. 
There  is  nothing  to  account  for  it  in  anything  that  we 
have  hitherto  learned  from  the  conception  of  the  totem 
or  from  any  of  its  attributes;  that  is,  we  do  not  under- 
stand how  it  happened  to  enter  the  system  of  totemism. 
We  are  therefore  not  astonished  if  some  investigators  sim- 
ply assume  that  at  first  exogamy — both  as  to  its  origin 
and  to  its  meaning — had  nothing  to  do  with  totemism, 
but  that  it  was  added  to  it  at  some  time  without  any  deeper 
association,  when  marriage  restrictions  proved  necessary. 
However  that  may  be,  the  association  of  totemism  and 
exogamy  exists,  and  proves  to  be  very  strong. 


606  THEMAKINGOFMAN 

Let  us  elucidate  the  meaning  of  this  prohibition  through 
further  discussion. 

(a)  The  violation  of  the  prohibition  is  not  left  to  what 
is,  so  to  speak,  an  automatic  punishment,  as  is  the  case 
with  other  violations  of  the  prohibitions  of  the  totem  (e.g., 
not  to  kill  the  totem  animal),  but  is  most  energetically 
avenged  by  the  whole  tribe  as  if  it  were  a  question  of 
warding  off  a  danger  that  threatens  the  community  as  a 
whole  or  a  guilt  that  weighs  upon  all.  A  few  sentences 
from  Frazer's  book  2  will  show  how  seriously  such  trespasses 
are  treated  by  these  savages  who,  according  to  our  stand- 
ard, are  otherwise  very  immoral. 

"In  Australia  the  regular  penalty  for  sexual  intercourse 
with  a  person  of  a  forbidden  clan  is  death.  It  matters  not 
whether  the  woman  is  of  the  same  local  group  or  has 
been  captured  in  war  from  another  tribe;  a  man  of  the 
wrong  clan  who  uses  her  as  his  wife  is  hunted  down  and 
killed  by  his  clansmen,  and  so  is  the  woman;  though  in 
some  cases,  if  they  succeed  in  eluding  capture  for  a  cer- 
tain time,  the  offense  may  be  condoned.  In  the  Ta-Ta-thi 
tribe,  New  South  Wales,  in  the  rare  cases  which  occur, 
the  man  is  killed,  but  the  woman  is  only  beaten  or  speared, 
or  both,  till  she  is  nearly  dead;  the  reason  given  for  not 
actually  killing  her  being  that  she  was  probably  coerced. 
Even  in  casual  amours  the  clan  prohibitions  are  strictly 
observed;  any  violations  of  these  prohibitions  'are  regarded 
with  the  utmost  abhorrence  and  are  punished  by  death ' " 
(Howitt). 

(b)  As  the  same  severe  punishment  is  also  meted  out  for 
temporary  love  affairs  which  have  not  resulted  in  child- 
birth, the  assumption  of  other  motives,  perhaps  of  a  prac- 
tical nature,  becomes  improbable. 

(c)  As  the  totem  is  hereditary  and  is  not  changed  by 
marriage,  the  results  of  the  prohibition,  for  instance  in  the 
case  of  maternal  heredity,  are  easily  perceived.  If,  for  ex- 
ample, the  man  belongs  to  a  clan  with  the  totem  of  the 
.Kangaroo  and  marries  a  woman  of  the  Emu  totem,  the 


SEXUAL    CUSTOMS    AND    SOCIAL    PRACTICE      607 

children,  both  boys  and  girls,  are  all  Emu.  According  to 
the  totem  law  incestuous  relations  with  his  mother  and 
his  sister,  who  are  Emu  like  himself,  are  therefore  made 
impossible  for  a  son  of  this  marriage.8 

(d)  But  we  need  only  a  reminder  to  realize  that  the 
exogamy  connected  with  the  totem  accomplishes  more; 
that  is,  aims  at  more  than  the  prevention  of  incest  with 
the  mother  or  the  sisters.  It  also  makes  it  impossible  for 
the  man  to  have  sexual  union  with  all  the  women  of  his 
own  group,  with  a  number  of  females,  therefore,  who  are 
not  consanguineously  related  to  him,  by  treating  all  these 
women  like  blood  relations.  The  psychological  justification 
for  this  extraordinary  restriction,  which  far  exceeds  any- 
thing comparable  to  it  among  civilized  races,  is  not,  at 
first,  evident.  All  we  seem  to  understand  is  that  the  role 
of  the  totem  (the  animal)  as  ancestor  is  taken  very  seri- 
ously. Everybody  descended  from  the  same  totem  is  con- 
sanguineous; that  is,  of  one  family;  and  in  this  family 
the  most  distant  grades  of  relationship  are  recognized  as 
an  absolute  obstacle  to  sexual  union. 

Thus  these  savages  reveal  to  us  an  unusually  high  grade 
of  incest  dread  or  incest  sensitiveness,  combined  with  the 
peculiarity,  which  we  do  not  very  well  understand,  of 
substituting  the  totem  relationship  for  the  real  blood  re- 
lationship. But  we  must  not  exaggerate  this  contradiction 
too  much,  and  let  us  bear  in  mind  that  the  totem  prohi- 
bitions include  real  incest  as  a  special  case. 

In  what  manner  the  substitution  of  the  totem  group 
for  the  actual  family  has  come  about  remains  a  riddle, 
the  solution  of  which  is  perhaps  bound  up  with  the  ex- 
planation of  the  totem  itself.  Of  course  it  must  be  remem- 
bered that  with  a  certain  freedom  of  sexual  intercourse, 
extending  beyond  the  limitations  of  matrimony,  the  blood 
relationship,  and  with  it  also  the  prevention  of  incest, 
becomes  so  uncertain  that  we  cannot  dispense  with  some 
other  basis  for  the  prohibition.  It  is  therefore  not  superflu- 
ous to  note  that  the  customs  of  Australians  recognize  social 


608  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

conditions  and  festive  occasions  at  which  the  exclusive 
conjugal  right  of  a  man  to  a  woman  is  violated. 

The  linguistic  customs  of  these  tribes,  as  well  as  of  most 
totem  races,  reveals  a  peculiarity  which  undoubtedly  is 
pertinent  in  this  connection.  For  the  designations  of  re- 
lationship of  which  they  make  use  do  not  take  into  con- 
sideration the  relationship  between  two  individuals,  but 
between  an  individual  and  his  group;  they  belong,  accord- 
ing to  the  expression  of  L.  H.  Morgan,  to  the  "classifying* 
system.  That  means  that  a  man  calls  not  only  his  begetter 
"father"  but  also  every  other  man  who,  according  to  the 
tribal  regulations,  might  have  married  his  mother  and 
thus  become  his  father;  he  calls  "mother"  not  only  the 
woman  who  bore  him  but  also  every  other  woman  who 
might  have  become  his  mother  without  violation  of  the 
tribal  laws;  he  calls  "brothers"  and  "sisters"  not  only  the 
children  of  his  real  parents,  but  also  the  children  of  all 
the  persons  named  who  stand  in  the  parental  group  rela- 
tion with  him,  and  so  on.  The  kinship  names  which  two 
Australians  give  each  other  do  not,  therefore,  necessarily 
point  to  a  blood  relationship  between  them,  as  they  would 
have  to  according  to  the  custom  of  our  language;  they 
signify  much  more  the  social  than  the  physical  relations. 
An  approach  to  this  classifying  system  is  perhaps  to  be 
found  in  our  nursery,  when  the  child  is  induced  to  greet 
every  male  and  female  friend  of  the  parents  as  "uncle" 
and  "aunt,"  or  it  may  be  found  in  a  transferred  sense  when 
we  speak  of  "Brothers  in  Apollo,"  or  "Sisters  in  Christ." 

The  explanation  of  this  linguistic  custom,  which  seems 
so  strange  to  us,  is  simple  if  looked  upon  as  a  remnant 
and  indication  of  those  marriage  institutions  which  the 
Rev.  L.  Fison  has  called  "group  marriage,"  characterized 
by  a  number  of  men  exercising  conjugal  rights  over  a 
number  of  women.  The  children  of  this  group  marriage 
would  then  rightly  look  upon  each  other  as  brothers  and 
sisters  although  not  born  of  the  same  mother,  and  would 
take  all  the  men  of  the  group  for  their  fathers. 


SEXUAL    CUSTOMS    AND    SOCIAL    PRACTICE      6()£ 

Although  a  number  of  authors,  as,  for  instance,  E.  Wester 
marck  in  his  History  of  Human  Marriage,4  oppose  the  con- 
clusions which  others  have  drawn  from  the  existence  of 
group-relationship  names,  the  best  authorities  on  the  Aus- 
tralian savages  are  agreed  that  the  classificatory  relation- 
ship names  must  be  considered  as  survivals  from  the  period 
of  group  marriages.  And,  according  to  Spencer  and  Gillen,0 
a  certain  form  of  group  marriage  can  be  established  as  still 
existing  to-day  among  the  tribes  of  the  Urabunna  and  the 
Dieri.  Group  marriage  therefore  preceded  individual  mar- 
riage among  these  races,  and  did  not  disappear  without 
leaving  distinct  traces  in  language  and  custom. 

But  if  we  replace  individual  marriage,  we  can  then  grasp 
the  apparent  excess  of  cases  of  incest-shunning  which  we 
have  met  among  these  same  races.  The  totem  exogamy, 
or  prohibition  of  sexual  intercourse  between  members  of 
the  same  clan,  seemed  the  most  appropriate  means  for  the 
prevention  of  group  incest;  and  this  totem  exogamy  then 
became  fixed  and  long  survived  its  original  motivation. 

Although  we  believe  we  understand  the  motives  of  the 
marriage  restrictions  among  the  Australian  savages,  we 
have  still  to  learn  that  the  actual  conditions  reveal  a  still 
more  bewildering  complication.  For  there  are  only  a  few 
tribes  in  Australia  which  show  no  other  prohibition  be- 
sides the  totem  barrier.  Most  of  them  are  so  organized 
that  they  fall  into  two  divisions  which  have  been  called 
marriage  classes,  or  phratries.  Each  of  these  marriage  groups 
is  exogamous  and  includes  a  majority  of  totem  groups 
Usually  each  marriage  group  is  again  divided  into  twc 
subclasses  (subphratries),  and  the  whole  tribe  is  therefore 
divided  into  four  classes;  the  subclasses  thus  standing  be- 
tween the  phratries  and  the  totem  groups. 

It  would  hardly  serve  our  purpose  to  go  into  the  ex 
traordinarily  intricate  and  unsettled  discussion  concerning 
the  origin  and  significance  of  the  marriage  classes,  or  tc 
go  more  deeply  into  their  relation  to  totemism.  It  is  suf 
ficient  for  our  purposes  to  point  out  the  great  care  ci 


6IO  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

pended  by  the  Australians  as  well  as  by  other  savage  people 
to  prevent  incest.6  We  must  say  that  these  savages  are 
even  more  sensitive  to  incest  than  we,  perhaps  because  they 
are  more  subject  to  temptations  than  we  are,  and  hence 
-require  more  extensive  protection  against  it. 

But  the  incest  dread  of  these  races  does  not  content 
itself  with  the  creation  of  the  institutions  described,  which, 
in  the  main,  seem  to  be  directed  against  group  incest.  We 
must  add  a  series  of  "customs"  which  watch  over  the  in- 
dividual behavior  to  near  relatives  in  our  sense,  which  are 
maintained  with  almost  religious  severity  and  of  whose 
object  there  can  hardly  be  any  doubt.  These  customs  or 
custom  prohibitions  may  be  called  "avoidances."  They 
spread  far  beyond  the  Australian  totem  races.  But  here 
again  I  must  ask  the  reader  to  be  content  with  a  frag- 
mentary excerpt  from  the  abundant  material. 

Such  restrictive  prohibitions  are  directed  in  Melanesia 
against  the  relations  of  boys  with  their  mothers  and  sisters. 
Thus,  for  instance,  on  Lepers  Island,  one  of  the  New 
Hebrides,  the  boy  leaves  his  maternal  home  at  a  fixed  age 
and  moves  to  the  "clubhouse,"  where  he  there  regularly 
sleeps  and  takes  his  meals.  He  may  still  visit  his  home  to 
ask  for  food,  but  if  his  sister  is  at  home  he  must  go  away 
before  he  has  eaten;  if  no  sister  is  about  he  may  sit  down 
to  eat  near  the  door.  If  brother  and  sister  meet  by  chance 
in  the  open,  she  must  run  away  or  turn  aside  and  conceal 
herself.  If  the  boy  recognizes  certain  footprints  in  the  sand 
as  his  sister's  he  is  not  to  follow  them,  nor  is  she  to 
follow  his.  He  will  not  even  mention  her  name  and  will 
guard  against  using  any  current  word  if  it  forms  part  of 
her  name.  This  avoidance,  which  begins  with  the  cere- 
mony of  puberty,  is  strictly  observed  for  life.  The  reserve 
between  mother  and  son  increases  with  age  and  generally 
is  more  obligatory  on  the  mother's  side.  If  she  brings  him 
something  to  eat  she  does  not  give  it  to  him  herself  but 
puts  it  down  before  him,  nor  does  she  address  him  in  the 
familiar  manner  of  mother  and  son,  but  uses  the  formal 


SEXUAL    CUSTOMS    AND    SOCIAL    PRACTICE      6l* 

address.  Similar  customs  obtain  in  New  Caledonia.  If 
brother  and  sister  meet,  she  flees  into  the  bush  and  he 
passes  by  without  turning  his  head  toward  her.7 

On  the  Gazelle  Peninsula  in  New  Britain  a  sister,  begin- 
ning with  her  marriage,  may  no  longer  speak  with  he* 
brother,  nor  does  she  utter  his  name  but  designates  him 
by  means  of  a  circumlocution.8 

In  New  Mecklenburg  some  cousins  are  subject  to  such 
restrictions,  which  also  apply  to  brothers  and  sisters.  They 
may  neither  approach  each  other,  shake  hands,  nor  give 
each  other  presents,  though  they  may  talk  to  each  other 
at  a  distance  of  several  paces.  The  penalty  for  incest  with 
a  sister  is  death  through  hanging.9 

These  rules  of  avoidance  are  especially  servere  in  the  Fiji 
Islands  where  they  concern  not  only  consanguineous  sister? 
but  group  sisters  as  well. 

To  hear  that  these  savages  hold  sacred  orgies  in  which 
persons  of  just  these  forbidden  degrees  of  kinship  seek 
sexual  union  would  seem  still  more  peculiar  to  us,  if  we 
did  not  prefer  to  make  use  of  this  contradiction  to  explain 
the  prohibition  instead  of  being  astonished  at  it.10 

Among  the  Battas  of  Sumatra  these  laws  of  avoidance 
affect  all  near  relationships.  For  instance,  it  would  be  most 
offensive  for  a  Battam  to  accompany  his  own  sister  to 
an  evening  party.  A  brother  will  feel  most  uncomfortable 
in  the  company  of  his  sister  even  when  other  persons  are 
also  present.  If  either  comes  into  the  house,  the  other  pre- 
fers to  leave.  Nor  will  a  father  remain  alone  in  the  house 
with  his  daughter  any  more  than  the  mother  with  her 
son.  The  Dutch  missionary  who  reported  these  customs 
added  that  unfortunately  he  had  to  consider  them  well 
founded.  It  is  assumed  without  question  by  these  races 
that  a  man  and  a  woman  left  alone  together  will  indulge 
in  the  most  extreme  intimacy,  and  as  they  expect  all  kinds 
of  punishments  and  evil  consequences  from  consanguine- 
ous intercourse  they  do  quite  right  to  avoid  all  temptations 
by  means  of  such  prohibitions.11 


SlJ  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

Among  the  Barongos  in  Delagoa  Bay,  in  Africa,  the 
most  rigorous  precautions  are  directed,  curiously  enough, 
against  the  sister-in-law,  the  wife  of  the  brother  of  one's 
DWII  wife.  If  a  man  meets  this  person  who  is  so  dangerous 
to  him,  he  carefully  avoids  her.  He  does  not  dare  to  eat 
out  of  the  same  dish  with  her;  he  speaks  only  timidly  to 
her.  does  not  dare  to  enter  her  hut,  and  greets  her  only 
with  a  trembling  voice.12 

Among  the  Akamba  (or  Wakamba)  in  British  East 
Africa,  a  law  of  avoidance  is  in  force  which  one  would 
have  expected  to  encounter  more  frequently.  A  girl  must 
carefully  avoid  her  own  father  between  the  time  of  her 
puberty  and  her  marriage.  She  hides  herself  if  she  meets 
him  on  the  street  and  never  attempts  to  sit  down  next  to 
him,  behaving  in  this  way  right  up  to  her  agreement.  But 
after  her  marriage  no  further  obstacle  is  put  in  the  way 
of  her  social  intercourse  with  her  father.13 

The  most  widespread  and  strictest  avoidance,  which  is 
perhaps  the  most  interesting  one  for  civilized  races,  is  that 
which  restricts  the  social  relations  between  a  man  and  his 
oiother-in-law.  It  is  quite  general  in  Australia,  but  it  is  also 
in  force  among  the  Melanesian,  Polynesian  and  Negro  races 
of  Africa  as  far  as  the  traces  of  totemism  and  group  rela- 
tionship reach,  and  probably  further  still.  Among  some  of 
these  races  similar  prohibitions  exist  against  the  harmless 
social  intercourse  of  a  wife  with  her  father-in-law,  but  these 
are  by  far  not  so  constant  or  so  serious.  In  a  few  cases 
both  parents-in-law  become  objects  of  avoidance. 

As  we  are  less  interested  in  the  ethnographic  dissemina- 
aon  than  in  the  substance  and  the  purpose  of  the  mother- 
in-law  avoidance,  I  will  here  also  limit  myself  to  a  few 
examples. 

On  the  Banks  Island  these  prohibitions  are  very  severe 

and  painfully  exact.  A  man  will  avoid  the  proximity  of  his 

mother-in-law  as  she  avoids  his.  If  they  meet  by  chance 

on  a  path,  the  woman  steps  aside  and  turns  her  back  until 

Jie  has  passed,  or  he  does  the  same. 


SEXUAL    CUSTOMS    AND    SOCIAL    PRACTICE      613 

In  Vanna  Lava  (Port  Patterson),  a  man  will  not  even 
walk  behind  his  mother-in-law  along  the  beach  until  the 
rising  tide  has  washed  away  the  trace  of  her  footsteps.  But 
they  may  talk  to  each  other  at  a  certain  distance.  It  is  quite 
out  of  the  question  that  he  should  ever  pronounce  the  name 
of  his  mother-in-law,  or  she  his.14 

On  the  Solomon  Islands,  beginning  with  his  marriaget 
a  man  must  neither  see  nor  speak  with  his  mother-in-law. 
If  he  meets  her  he  acts  as  if  he  did  not  know  her  and  runs 
away  as  fast  as  he  can  in  order  to  hide  himself.16 

Among  the  Zulu  Kaffirs  custom  demands  that  a  man 
should  be  ashamed  of  his  mother-in-law  and  that  he  should 
do  everything  to  avoid  her  company.  He  docs  not  enrer  a 
hut  in  which  she  is,  and  when  they  meet  he  or  she  goes 
aside,  she  perhaps  hiding  behind  a  bush  while  he  hold* 
his  shield  before  his  face.  If  they  cannot  avoid  each  othei 
and  the  woman  has  nothing  with  which  to  cover  herself 
she  at  least  binds  a  bunch  of  grass  around  her  head  in  order 
to  satisfy  the  ceremonial  requirements.  Communication 
between  them  must  cither  be  made  through  a  third  person 
or  else  they  may  shout  at  each  other  a  considerable  distance 
if  they  have  some  barrier  between  them  as,  for  instance, 
the  enclosure  of  a  kraal.  Neither  may  utter  the  other's 
name.10 

Among  the  Basogas,  a  Negro  tribe  living  in  the  region 
of  the  Nile  sources,  a  man  may  talk  to  his  mother-in-law 
only  if  she  is  in  another  room  of  the  house  and  is  not 
visible  to  him.  Moreover,  this  race  abominates  incest  to 
such  an  extent  as  not  to  let  it  go  unpunished  even  among 
domestic  animals.17 

Whereas  all  observers  have  interpreted  the  purpose  and 
meaning  of  the  avoidances  between  near  relatives  as  pro- 
tective measures  against  incest,  different  interpretations  have 
been  given  for  those  prohibitions  which  concern  the  rela- 
tionship with  the  mother-in-law.  It  was  quite  incompre- 
hensible why  all  these  races  should  manifest  such  great  fear 


614  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

of  temptation  on  the  part  of  the  man  for  an  elderly  woman, 
old  enough  to  be  his  mother.18 

The  same  objection  was  also  raised  against  the  concep- 
tion of  Fison  who  called  attention  to  the  fact  that  certain 
marriage  class  systems  show  a  gap  in  that  they  make 
marriage  between  a  man  and  his  mother-in-law  theoretically 
not  impossible  and  that  a  special  guarantee  was  therefore 
necessary  to  guard  against  this  possibility. 

Sir  J.  Lubbock,  in  his  book  The  Origin  of  Civilization, 
traces  back  the  behavior  of  the  mother-in-law  toward  the 
son-in-law  to  the  former  "marriage  by  capture."  "As  long 
as  the  capture  of  women  actually  took  place,  the  indig- 
nation of  the  parents  was  probably  serious  enough.  When 
nothing  but  symbols  of  this  form  of  marriage  survived, 
the  indignation  of  the  parents  was  also  symbolized  and 
this  custom  continued  after  its  origin  had  been  forgotten." 
Crawley  has  found  it  easy  to  show  how  little  this  tentative 
explanation  agrees  with  the  details  of  actual  observation. 

E.  B.  Tylor  thinks  that  the  treatment  of  the  son-in-law 
on  the  part  of  the  mother-in-law  is  nothing  more  than  a 
form  of  "cutting"  or^  the  part  of  the  woman's  family.  The 
man  counts  as  a  stranger,  and  this  continues  until  the  first 
child  is  born.  But  even  if  no  account  is  taken  of  cases 
in  which  this  last  condition  does  not  remove  the  prohibition, 
this  explanation  is  subject  to  the  objection  that  it  does  not 
throw  any  light  on  the  custom  dealing  with  the  relation 
between  mother-in-law  and  son-in-law,  thus  overlooking 
the  sexual  factor,  and  that  it  does  not  take  into  account  the 
almost  sacred  loathing  which  finds  expression  in  the  laws 
of  avoidance.19 

A  Zulu  woman  who  was  asked  about  the  basis  for  this 
prohibition  showed  great  delicacy  of  feeling  in  her  answer: 
*It  is  not  right  that  he  should  see  the  breasts  which  nursed 
his  wife."20 

The  knowledge  of  hidden  psychic  feelings  which  psycho- 
analytic investigation  of  individuals  has  given  us,  makes  it 
possible  to  add  other  motives  to  the  above.  Where  the  psycho- 


SEXUAL    CUSTOMS    AND    SOCIAL    PRACTICE      615 

sexual  needs  of  the  woman  are  to  be  satisfied  in  marriage 
and  family  life,  there  is  always  the  danger  of  dissatisfaction 
through  the  premature  termination  of  the  conjugal  relation, 
and  the  monotony  in  the  wife's  emotional  life.  The  ageing 
mother  protects  herself  against  this  by  living  through  the 
lives  of  her  children,  by  identifying  herself  with  them  and 
making  their  emotional  experiences  her  own.  Parents  are 
said  to  remain  young  with  their  children,  and  this  is,  in  fact 
one  of  the  most  valuable  psychic  benefits  which  parents 
derive  from  their  children.  Childlessness  thus  eliminates  one 
of  the  best  means  to  endure  the  necessary  resignation  im- 
posed upon  the  individual  through  marriage.  This  emotional 
identification  with  the  daughter  may  easily  go  so  far  with 
the  mother  that  she  also  falls  in  love  with  the  man  her  daugh- 
ter loves,  which  leads,  in  extreme  cases,  to  severe  forms  of 
neurotic  ailments  on  account  of  the  violent  psychic  resistance 
against  this  emotional  predisposition.  At  all  events  the  tend 
ency  to  such  infatuation  »s  very  frequent  with  the  mother-in- 
law,  and  either  this  infatuation  itself  or  the  tendency  opposed 
to  it  joins  the  conflict  of  contending  forces  in  the  psyche  of 
the  mother-in-law.  Very  often  it  is  just  this  harsh  and  sadistic 
component  of  the  love  emotion  which  is  turned  against  the 
son-in-law  in  order  better  to  suppress  the  forbidden  tender 
feelings. 

The  relation  of  the  husband  to  his  mother-in-law  is 
complicated  through  similar  feelings  which,  however,  spring 
from  other  sources.  The  path  of  object  selection  has  normally 
led  him  to  his  love  object  through  the  image  of  his  mothef 
and  perhaps  of  his  sister;  in  consequence  of  the  incest  bar 
riers  his  preference  for  these  two  beloved  persons  of  his 
childhood  has  been  deflected  and  he  is  then  able  to  find  their 
image  in  strange  objects.  He  now  sees  the  mother-in-law 
taking  the  place  of  his  own  mother  and  of  his  sister's  mother, 
and  there  develops  a  tendency  to  return  to  the  primitive 
selection,  against  which  everything  in  him  resists.  His  incest 
dread  demands  that  he  should  not  be  reminded  of  the 
genealogy  of  his  love  selection;  the  actuality  of  his  mother 


6l6  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

in-law,  whom  he  had  not  known  all  his  life  like  his  mother 
so  that  her  picture  can  be  preserved  unchanged  in  his  un- 
conscious, facilitates  this  rejection.  An  added  mixture  of 
irritability  and  animosity  in  his  feelings  leads  us  to  suspect 
chat  the  mother-in-law  actually  represents  an  incest  temp- 
tation for  the  son-in-law,  just  as  it  not  infrequently  happens 
that  a  man  falls  in  love  with  his  subsequent  mother-in-law 
before  his  inclination  is  transferred  to  her  daughter. 

I  see  no  objection  to  the  assumption  that  it  is  just  this 
incestuous  factor  of  the  relationship  which  motivates  the 
avoidance  between  son  and  mother-in-law  among  savages. 
Among  the  explanations  for  the  "avoidances"  which  these 
primitive  races  observe  so  strictly,  we  would  therefore  give 
preference  to  the  opinion  originally  expressed  by  Fison,  who 
sees  nothing  in  these  regulations  but  a  protection  against 
possible  incest.  This  would  also  hold  good  for  all  the  other 
avoidances  between  those  related  by  blood  or  by  marriage. 
There  is  only  one  difference,  namely,  in  the  first  case  the 
incest  is  direct,  so  that  the  purpose  of  the  prevention  might 
be  conscious;  in  the  other  case,  which  includes  the  mother- 
in-law  relation,  the  incest  would  be  a  phantasy  temptation 
brought  about  by  unconscious  intermediary  links. 

We  have  had  little  opportunity  in  this  exposition  to  show 
that  the  facts  of  folk-psychology  can  be  seen  in  a  new  light 
through  the  application  of  the  psychoanalytic  point  of  view, 
for  rhe  incest  dread  of  savages  has  long  been  known  as  such, 
anc*.  is  in  need  of  no  further 'interpretation.  What  we  can 
ndJ  to  the  further  appreciation  of  incest  dread  is  the  state- 
tnf/tt  that  it  is  a  subtle  infantile  trait  and  is  in  striking 
Agreement  with  the  psychic  life  of  the  neurotic.  Psycho- 
analysis has  taught  us  that  the  first  object  selection  of  the 
boy  is  of  an  incestuous  nature  and  that  it  is  directed  to  the 
forbidden  objects,  the  mother  and  sister;  psychoanalysis  has 
taught  us  also  the  methods  through  which  the  maturing 
individual  frees  himself  from  these  incestuous  attractions. 
The  neurotic,  however,  regularly  presents  to  us  a  piece  of 
psychic  infantilism;  he  has  either  not  been  able  to  free  him- 


SEXUAL    CUSTOMS    AND    SOCIAL    PRACTICE       bl\ 

self  from  the  childlike  conditions  of  psychosexuality,  or 
else  he  has  returned  to  them  (inhibited  development  and 
regression) .  Hence  the  incestuous  fixations  of  the  libido  still 
play  or  again  are  playing  the  main  role  in  his  unconscious 
psychic  life.  We  have  gone  so  far  as  to  declare  that  the  rela- 
tion of  the  parents  instigated  by  incestuous  longings  is  the 
central  complex  of  the  neurosis.  This  discovery  of  the  sig- 
nificance of  incest  for  the  neurosis  naturally  meets  with  the 
most  general  incredulity  on  the  part  of  the  grown-up,  nor- 
mal man;  a  similar  rejection  will  also  meet  the  researches 
of  Otto  Rank,  which  show  in  even  larger  scope  to  what 
extent  the  incest  theme  stands  in  the  center  of  poetical 
interest  and  how  it  forms  the  material  of  poetry  in  count- 
less variations  and  distortions.  We  are  forced  to  believe  that 
such  a  rejection  is  above  all  the  product  of  man's  deep  aver- 
sion to  his  former  incest  wishes  which  have  since  succumbed 
to  repression.  It  is,  therefore,  of  importance  to  us  to  be  able 
to  show  that  man's  incest  wishes,  which  later  are  destined  to 
become  unconscious,  are  still  felt  to  be  dangerous  by  savage 
races  who  consider  them  worthy  of  the  most  severe  defensive 
measures. 

NOTES 

1  Frazer,  Totemism  and  Exogamy,  vol.  i,  p.  53.  "The  totem  bond  is 
stronger  fhan  the  bond  of  blood  or  family  in  the  modern  sense-" 

2  Frazer,  he.  at.,  p.  54, 

3  But  the  fathu,  \vho  is  a  Kangaroo,  is  free — at  least  under  this  prohibi- 
tion— to  commit  incest  with  his  daughters,  who  arc  Emu.  In  the  case  of 
paternal  inheritance  of   the  totem  the  father  would  be  Kangaroo  as  well 
as  the  children;  then  incest  with  the  daughters  would  be  forbidden  to  the 
father  and  incest  with  the  mother  would  be  left  open  to  the  son.  These 
consequences  of  the  totem  prohibition  seem  to  indicate  that  the  maternal 
inheritance  is  older  than  the  paternal  one,  for  there  arc  grounds  for  assum- 
ing that  the  totem  prohibitions  are  directed  first  of  all  against  the  incestuous 
desires  of  the  son. 

4  Second  edition,  1902. 

5  The  Native  Tribes  of  Central  Australia  (London,  1899). 

6  Storfcr  has  recently  drawn  special  attention  to  this  point  in  his  mono- 
graph: Parricide  as  a  Special  Case.  Papers  on  Applied  Psychic  Investiga- 
tion, No.  12  (Vienna,  1911). 

7  R.  H.  Codrington,  The  Melanesianf  also  Frazer,  Totemism  and 
*my,  vol.  i,  p.  77. 


6l8  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

8Frazer,  he.  cit.,  h,  p.  124,  according  to  Klcintischen:  The  Inhabitant* 
of  the  Coast  of  the  Gazelle  Peninsula. 

9Frazcr,  loc.  cit.,  ii,  p.  131,  according  to  P.  G.  Pcckel  in  Anthropos, 
1908. 

10  Frazer,  loc.  cit.,  ii,  p.  147,  according  to  the  Rev.  L.  Fison. 

11  Frazcr,  loc.  cit.,  ii,  p.  189. 

12  Frazcr,  he.  cit.,  ii,  p.  388,  according  to  Junod. 
18  Frazer,  loc.  cit.,  ii,  p.  424. 

14  Frazer,  he.  cit.,  ii,  p.  76. 

16  Frazcr,  he.  cit.,  ii,  p.  113,  according  to  C.  Ribbe:  Two  Years  Among 
\he  Cannibals  of  the  Solomon  Islands,  1905. 

16  Frazcr,  he.  cit.,  ii,  p.  385. 

17  Frazer,  he.  cit.,  ii,  p.  461. 

18  Cf.  Crawley:  The  Mystic  Rose  (London,  1902),  p.  405. 

19  Crawley,  he.  cit.,  p.  407. 

20  Crawley,  he.  cit.,  p.  401,  according  to  Leslie:  Among  the  Zulus  and 
fimatongas,  1875. 


THE  INTERMEDIATE  TYPE  AS  PROPHET 
OR  PRIEST* 

By  EDWARD  CARPENTER 

A  CURIOUS  and  interesting  subject  is  the  connection  of  the 
Uranian  temperament  with  prophetic  gifts  and  divination, 
It  is  a  subject  which,  as  far  as  I  know,  has  not  been  very 
seriously  considered — though  it  has  been  touched  upon  by 
Elie  Reclus,  Westermarck,  Bastian,  Iwan  Bloch,  and 
others.  The  fact  is  well  known,  of  course,  that  in  the  temples 
and  cults  of  antiquity  and  of  primitive  races  it  has  been 
a  widespread  practice  to  educate  and  cultivate  certain 
youths  in  an  effeminate  manner,  and  that  these  youths  in 
general  become  the  priests  or  medicine-men  of  the  tribe;  but 
this  fact  has  hardly  been  taken  seriously,  as  indicating  an} 
necessary  connection  between  the  two  functions,  or  any  rela« 
tion  in  general  between  homosexuality  and  psychic  powers 
Some  such  relation  or  connection,  however,  I  think  we 
must  admit  as  being  obviously  indicated  by  the  following 
facts;  and  the  admission  leads  us  on  to  the  further  inquiry 
of  what  the  relation  may  exactly  be,  and  what  its  rationale 
and  explanation. 

Among  the  tribes,  for  instance,  in  the  neighborhood  o\ 
Behring's  Straits — the  Kamchadales,  the  Chukchi,  the  Al- 
euts, Inoits,  Kadiak  Islanders,  and  so  forth — homosexuality 
is  common,  and  its  relation  to  shamanship  or  priesthood 
most  marked  and  curious.  Westermarck,  in  his  well-known 
book,  The  Origin  and  Development  of  the  Moral  Ideas,1 
quoting  from  Dr.  Bogoraz,  says:  "It  frequently  happens 
that,  under  the  supernatural  influence  of  one  of  their  sha- 
mans, or  priests,  a  Chukchi  lad  at  sixteen  years  of  age  will 

•Intermediate  Types  Among  Primitive  Fo/$.  London:  George  Allen 
&  Unwin. 


620  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

suddenly  relinquish  his  sex  and  imagine  himself  to  be  a 
woman.  He  adopts  a  woman's  attire,  lets  his  hair  grow,  and 
devotes  himself  altogether  to  female  occupations.  Further- 
more, this  disclaimer  of  his  sex  takes  a  husband  into  the  yurt 
(hut)  and  does  all  the  work  which  is  usually  incumbent  on 

the  wife,  in  most  unnatural  and  voluntary  subjection 

These  abnormal  changes  of  sex  imply  the  most  abject  immo- 
rality in  the  community,  and  appear  to  be  strongly  encour- 
aged by  the  shamans,  who  interpret  such  cases  as  an 
injunction  of  their  individual  deity."  Further,  Westermarck 
says,  "the  change  of  sex  was  usually  accompanied  by  future 
shamanship;  indeed  nearly  all  the  shamans  were  former  de- 
linquents of  their  sex."  Again  he  says,  "In  describing  the  Ko- 
riaks,  Krasheninnikoff  makes  mention  of  the  Kcycv,  that  is,, 
men  occupying  the  position  of  concubines,  and  he  compares 
them  with  the  Kamchadale  Koe'fcuc,  as  he  calls  them,  that 
is,  men  transformed  into  women.  Every  Koe'l^cuc,  he  says,  'is 

regarded  as  a  magician  and  interpreter  of  dreams The 

Koe'fcuc  wore  women's  clothes,  did  women's  work,  and 
were  in  the  position  of  wives  or  concubines.' "  And  (on  p. 
472) :  "There  is  no  indication  that  the  North  American  abo- 
rigines attached  any  opprobrium  to  men  who  had  intercourse 
with  those  members  of  their  own  sex  who  had  assumed  the 
dress  and  habits  of  women.  In  Kadiak  such  a  companion 
was,  on  the  contrary,  regarded  as  a  great  acquisition;  and 
the  effeminate  men,  far  from  being  despised,  were  held  in 
repute  by  the  people,  most  of  them  being  wizards." 

The  connection  with  wizardry  and  religious  divination 
is  particularly  insisted  upon  by  Elie  Reclus,  in  his  Primitive 
FolJ{  (Contemporary  Science  Series).  Speaking  of  the  Inoits 
(p.  68),  he  says: — "has  a  boy  with  a  pretty  face  also  a  grace- 
ful demeanor?  The  mother  no  longer  permits  him  to  asso- 
ciate with  companions  of  his  own  age,  but  clothes  him  and 
brings  him  up  as  a  girl.  Any  stranger  would  be  deceived 
as  to  his  sex,  and  when  he  is  about  fifteen  he  is  sold  for 
a  good  round  sum  to  a  wealthy  personage.2  'Choupans,'  or 
youths  of  this  kind  are  highly  prized  by  the  Konyagas.  On 


SEXUAL    CUSTOMS    AND    SOCIAL    PRACTICE      621 

the  othei  hand,  there  are  to  be  met  with  here  and  there 
among  the  Esquimaux,  or  kindred  populations,  especially 
in  Youkon,  girls  who  decline  marriage  and  maternity 
Changing  their  sex,  so  to  speak,  they  live  as  boys,  adopting 
masculine  manners  and  customs,  they  hunt  the  stag,  and 
in  the  chase  they  shrink  from  no  danger;  in  fishing,  from  no 
fatigue." 

Reclus  then  says  that  the  Choupans  commonly  dedicate 
themselves  to  the  priesthood;  but  all  are  not  qualified  for 
this.  "To  become  an  angaJ<o1{  it  is  needful  to  have  a  very 
marked  vocation,  and  furthermore  a  character  and  tempera- 
ment which  every  one  has  not.  The  priests  in  office  do  not 
leave  the  recruiting  of  their  pupils  to  chance;  they  make 
choice  at  an  early  age  of  boys  or  girls,  not  limiting  them- 
selves to  one  sex — a  mark  of  greater  intelligence  than  is 
exhibited  by  most  other  priesthoods"  (p.  71).  The  pupil  has 
to  go  through  considerable  ordeals: — "Discipline  by  absti- 
nence and  prolonged  vigils,  by  hardship  and  constraint,  he 
must  learn  to  endure  pain  stoically  and  to  subdue  his  bodily 
desires,  to  make  the  body  obey  unmurmuringly  the  com- 
mands of  the  spirit.  Others  may  be  chatterers;  he  will  be 
silent,  as  becomes  the  prophet  and  soothsayer.  At  an  early 
age  the  novice  courts  solitude.  He  wanders  throughout  the 
long  nights  across  silent  plains  filled  with  the  chilly  white- 
ness of  the  moon;  he  listens  to  the  wind  moaning  over  the 
desolate  floes; — and  then  the  aurora  borealis,  that  ardently 
sought  occasion  for  'drinking  in  the  light,'  the  angaf(ol(  must 
absorb  all  its  brilliancies  and  splendors. . . .  And  now  the 
future  sorcerer  is  no  longer  a  child.  Many  a  time  he  has 
felt  himself  in  the  presence  of  Sidne,  the  Esquimaux  Deme- 
ter,  he  has  divined  it  by  the  shiver  which  ran  through  his 
veins,  by  the  tingling  of  his  flesh  and  the  bristling  of  his 
hair. . . .  He  sees  stars  unknown  to  the  profane;  he  asks  the 
secrets  of  destiny  from  Sirius,  Algol,  and  Altair;  he  passes 
through  a  series  of  initiations,  knowing  well  that  his  spirit 
will  not  be  loosed  from  the  burden  of  dense  matter  and  crass 
ignorance,  until  the  moon  has  looked  him  in  the  face5 


622  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

darted  a  certain  ray  into  his  eyes.  At  last  his  own  Genius, 
evoked  from  the  bottomless  depths  of  existence,  appears  to 
him,  having  scaled  the  immensity  of  the  heavens,  and 
climbed  across  the  abysses  of  the  ocean.  White,  wan,  and 
solemn,  the  phantom  will  say  to  him:  'Behold  me,  what 
dost  thou  desire?'  Uniting  himself  with  the  Double  from 
beyond  the  grave,  the  soul  of  the  anga\o\  flies  upon  the 
wings  of  the  wind,  and  quitting  the  body  at  will,  sails  swift 
and  light  through  the  universe.  It  is  permitted  to  probe  all 
hidden  things,  to  seek  the  knowledge  of  all  mysteries,  in 
order  that  they  may  be  revealed  to  those  who  have  remained 
mortal  with  spirit  unrefined"  (p.  73) . 

Allowing  something  for  poetic  and  imaginative  expres- 
sion, the  above  statement  of  the  ordeals  and  initiations  of 
the  angakol^,  and  their  connection  with  the  previous  career 
of  the  Choupan  are  well  based  on  the  observations  of  many 
authorities,  as  well  as  on  their  general  agreement  with 
similar  facts  all  over  the  world.  There  is  also  another  pas- 
sage of  Reclus  (p.  70)  on  the  duties  of  the  angal(pf^t  which 
seems  to  throw  considerable  light  on  certain  passages  in 
the  Bible  referring  to  the  kedeshim  and  l^edcshoth  of  the 
Syrian  cults,  also  on  the  fosto  of  the  Slave  Coast  and  the 
early  functions  of  the  priesthood  in  general: — "As  soon  as 
the  Choupan  has  moulted  into  the  angaJ^o^  the  tribe  con- 
fides to  him  girls  most  suitable  in  bodily  grace  and  dis- 
position; he  has  to  complete  their  education — he  will  perfect 
them  in  dancing  and  other  accomplishments,  and  finally  will 
initiate  them  into  the  pleasures  of  love.  If  they  display  intel- 
ligence, they  will  become  seers  and  medicine-women,  priest- 
esses and  prophetesses.  The  summer  tychims  (assemblies) 
which  are  closed  to  the  women  of  the  community,  will  open 
wide  before  these.  It  is  believed  that  these  girls  would  be 
unwholesome  company  if  they  had  not  been  purified  by  com- 
merce with  a  man  of  God." 

Catlin,  in  his  North  American  Indians  (vol.  i,  pp.  112- 
114),  describes  how  on  one  occasion  he  was  in  a  large 
tent  occupied  in  painting  portraits  of  some  of  the  chiefs 


SEXUAL    CUSTOMS    AND    SOCIAL    PRACTICE      623 

of  the  tribe  (the  Mandans),  among  whom  he  was  staying, 
when  he  noticed  at  the  door  of  the  tent,  but  not  venturing 
to  come,  in,  three  or  four  young  men  of  handsome  presence 
and  rather  elegantly  dressed,  but  not  wearing  the  eagle's 
feathers  of  warriors.  He  mentally  decided  to  paint  the  por- 
trait of  one  of  these  also;  and  on  a  later  day  when  he  had 
nearly  done  with  the  chiefs,  he  invited  one  of  these  othen 
to  come  in  and  stand  for  him.  The  youth  was  overjoyed  at 
the  compliment,  and  smiled  all  over  his  face.  He  was  clad 
from  head  to  foot  in  the  skin  of  the  mountain  goat,  which 
for  softness  and  whiteness  is  almost  like  Chinese  crepe, 
embroidered  with  ermine  and  porcupine  quills;  and  with  his 
pipe  and  his  whip  in  his  hand,  made  a  striking  and  hand- 
some figure,  which  showed,  too,  a  certain  grace  and  gentle- 
ness as  of  good  breeding.  "There  was  nought  about  him 
of  the  terrible,"  says  Catlin,  "and  nought  to  shock  the  finest^ 
chastest  intellect."  But  to  Catlin's  surprise,  no  sooner  had  he 
begun  to  sketch  his  new  subject,  than  the  chiefs  rose  up, 
flung  their  buffalo  robes  around  them,  and  stalked  out  of 
the  tent. 

Catlin's  interpreter  afterwards  explained  to  him  the  posi- 
tion of  these  men  and  the  part  they  played  in  the  tribal 
life;  and  how  the  chiefs  were  offended  at  the  idea  of  their 
being  placed  on  an  equality  with  themselves.  But  the  of- 
fense, it  seemed,  was  not  on  any  ground  of  immorality;  but 
— and  this  is  corroborated  by  the  customs  of  scores  of  other 
tribes — arose  simply  from  the  fact  that  the  young  men 
were  associated  with  the  women,  and  shared  their  modes  of 
life,  and  were  not  worthy  therefore  to  rank  among  the 
warriors.  In  their  own  special  way  they  held  a  position  of 
some  honor. 

"Among  the  Illinois  Indians,"  says  Westermarck  (vol. 
ii,  p.  473),  "the  effeminate  men  assist  in  (i.e.,  are  present 
at)  all  the  juggleries  and  the  solemn  dance  in  honor  of  the 
calumet,  or  sacred  tobacco-pipe,  for  which  the  Indians  have 
such  a  deference ...  but  they  are  not  permitted  either  to 
dance  or  to  sing.  They  are  called  into  the  councils  of  the 


624  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

Indians,  and  nothing  can  be  decided  without  their  advice; 
for  because  of  their  extraordinary  manner  of  living  they 
ire  looked  upon  as  manitous,  or  supernatural  beings,  and 
persons  of  consequence."  "The  Sioux,  Sacs,  and  Fox  Indians," 
he  continues,  "give  once  a  year,  or  oftener,  a  feast  to  the 
Berdashe,  or  I-coo-coo-a,  who  is  a  man  dressed  in  women's 
clothes  as  he  has  been  all  his  life."  And  Catlin  (North  Ameri- 
can Indians,  vol.  ii,  p.  214)  says  of  this  Berdashe:  "For  ex- 
traordinary privileges  which  he  is  known  to  possess,  he  is 
driven  to  the  most  servile  and  degrading  duties,  which  he 
is  not  allowed  to  escape;  and  he  being  the  only  one  of  the 
tribe  submitting  to  this  disgraceful  degradation  is  looked 
upon  as  medicine  and  sacred,  and  a  feast  is  given  to  him 
annually;  and  initiatory  to  it  a  dance  by  those  few  young 
men  of  the  tribe  who  can  dance  forward  and  publicly  make 
heir  boast  (without  the  denial  of  the  Berdashe)  that"  (then 
follow  three  or  four  unintelligible  lines  of  some  native 
dialect;  and  then)  "such  and  such  only  are  allowed  to  enter 
the  dance  and  partake  of  the  feast." 

In  this  connection  it  may  not  be  out  of  place  to  quote 
Joaquin  Miller  (who  spent  his  early  life  as  a  member  of 
an  Indian  tribe)  on  the  prophetic  powers  of  these  people. 
He  says  (Life  Among  the  Modocs,  p.  360),  "If  there  is  a 
race  of  men  that  has  the  gift  of  prophecy  or  prescience  I 
think  it  is  the  Indian.  It  may  be  a  keen  instinct  sharpened 
by  meditation  that  makes  them  foretell  many  things  with 
such  precision,  but  I  have  seen  some  things  that  looked  much 
like  the  fulfillment  of  prophecies.  They  believe  in  the  gift  of 
prophecy  thoroughly,  and  are  never  without  their  seers." 

In  this  connection  we  may  quote  the  curious  remark  of 
Herodotus,  who  after  mentioning  (i,  105)  that  some  of  the 
Scythians  suffered  from  a  disease  of  effeminacy  (Oyieia 
v66oq),  and  were  called  Enarees,  says  (iv,  67)  that  "these 
Enarees,  or  Androgyni,  were  endowed  by  Venus  with  the 
power  of  divination"  and  were  consulted  by  the  King  of 
the  Scythians  when  the  latter  was  ill. 

The  Jesuit  father  Lafitau,  who  published  in  1724,  at  Paris, 


SEXUAL    CUSTOMS    AND    SOCIAL    PRACVlCE      625 

an  extremely  interesting  book  on  the  manners  and  customs 
of  the  North  American  tribes  among  whom  he  had  been 
a  missionary,3  after  speaking  of  warlike  women  and  Ama- 
zons, says  (vol.  i,  p.  53) :  "If  some  women  are  found  pos- 
sessing virile  courage,  and  glorying  in  the  profession  of  war, 
which  seems  only  suitable  to  men;  there  exist  also  men  so 
cowardly  as  to  live  like  women.  Among  the  Illinois,  among 
the  Sioux,  in  Louisiana,  in  Florida,  and  in  Yucatan,  there 
are  found  youths  who  adopt  the  garb  of  women  and  preserve 
it  all  their  lives,  and  who  think  themselves  honored  in 
stooping  to  all  their  occupations;  they  never  marry;  they  take 
part  in  all  ceremonies  in  which  religion  seems  to  be  con- 
cerned; and  this  profession  of  an  extraordinary  life  causes 
them  to  pass  for  beings  of  a  superior  order,  and  above  the 
common  run  of  mankind.  Would  not  these  be  the  same 
kind  of  folk  as  the  Asiatic  worshipers  of  Cybele,  or  those 
Easterns  of  whom  Julius  Firmicus  speaks  (Lib.  de  Errore 
prof.  Relig.),  who  consecrated  to  the  Goddess  of  Phrygia, 
or  to  Venus  Urania,  certain  priests,  who  dressed  as  women, 
who  affected  an  effeminate  countenance,  who  painted  their 
faces  and  disguised  their  true  sex  under  garments  borrowed 
from  the  sex  which  they  wished  to  counterfeit." 

The  instance,  just  quoted,  of  the  Enarees  among  the 
Scythians,  who  by  excessive  riding  were  often  rendered 
impotent  and  effeminate,  is  very  curiously  paralleled  in 
quite  another  part  of  the  world  by  the  so-called  mujerados 
(or  feminized  men)  among  the  Pueblo  Indians  of  Mexico 
Dr.  W.  A.  Hammond,  who  was  stationed,  in  1850,  as  mili 
tary  doctor,  in  New  Mexico,  reported  4  that  in  each  village 
one  of  the  strongest  men,  being  chosen,  was  compelled  by 
unintermitted  riding  to  pass  through  this  kind  of  meta 
morphosis.  "He  then  became  indispensable  for  the  religious 
orgies  which  were  celebrated  among  the  Pueblo  Indians  in 
the  same  way  as  they  once  were  among  the  old  Greeks, 
Egyptians,  and  other  people. . . .  These  Saturnalia  take 
place  among  the  Pueblos  in  the  Spring  of  every  year,  and 
are  kept  with  the  greatest  secrecy  from  the  observation  of 


626  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN   " 

non-Indians."5  And  again  "To  be  a  rnujcrado  is  no  dis- 
grace to  a  Pueblo  Indian.  On  the  contrary,  he  enjoys  the 
protection  of  his  tribespeople,  and  is  accorded  a  certain 
amount  of  honor." 

Similar  customs  to  those  of  the  American  Indians  were 
found  among  the  Pacific  Islanders.  Captain  James  Wilson,* 
in  visiting  the  South  Sea  Islands  in  1796-8,  found  there 
men  who  were  dressed  like  women  and  enjoyed  a  certain 
honor;  and  expresses  his  surprise  at  finding  that  "even  their 
women  do  not  despise  these  fellows,  but  form  friend- 
ships with  them."  While  William  Ellis,  also  a  missionary, 
in  his  Polynesian  Researches 7  (vol.  i,  p.  340),  says  that  they 
not  only  enjoy  the  sanction  of  the  priests,  but  even  the  direct 
example  of  one  of  their  divinities.  He  goes  on  to  say  that 
when  he  asked  the  natives  why  they  made  away  with  so 
many  more  female  than  male  children,  "they  generally  an- 
swered that  the  fisheries,  the  service  of  the  temple  and 
especially  war  were  the  only  purposes  for  which  they  thought 
it  desirable  to  rear  children!" 

But  one  of  the  most  interesting  examples  of  the  connection 
we  are  studying  is  that  of  Apollo  with  the  temple  at  Delphi. 
Delphi,  of  course,  was  one  of  the  chief  seats  of  prophecy 
and  divination  in  the  old  world,  and  Apollo,  who  presided 
at  this  shrine,  was  a  strange  blend  of  masculine  and  feminine 
attributes.  It  will  be  remembered  that  he  was  frequently 
represented  as  being  very  feminine  in  form — especially  in  the 
more  archaic  statues.  He  was  the  patron  of  song  and  music. 
He  was  also,  in  some  ways,  the  representative  divinity  of  the 
Uranian  love,  for  he  was  the  special  god  of  the  Dorian 
Greeks,  among  whom  comradeship  became  an  institution.8 
It  was  said  of  him  that  to  expiate  his  pollution  by  the  blood 
of  the  Python  (whom  he  slew),  he  became  the  slave  and 
devoted  favorite  of  Admetus;  and  Muller9  describes  a 
Dorian  religious  festival,  in  which  a  boy,  taking  the  part 
\>f  Apollo,  "probably  imitated  the  manner  in  which  the  god, 
is  herdsman  and  slave  of  Alcestis,  submitted  to  the  most 
degrading  service/'  Alcestis,  in  fact,  the  wife  of  Admetu% 


SEXUAL    CUSTOMS    AND    SOCIAL    PRACTICE      627 

said  of  Apollo  (in  a  verse  of  Sophocles  cited  by  Plutarch) : 
ovjiids  $dA&cia>£  aviov  ijye  TIQ&S  "fjtittrjv"  When  we  consider 
that  Apollo,  as  Sun  god,  corresponds  in  some  points  to  the 
Syrian  Baal  (masculine),  and  that  in  this  epithet  Karneios, 
used  among  the  Dorians,10  he  corresponds  to  the  Syrian 
Ashtaroth  Karnaim  (feminine),  we  seem  to  see  a  possible 
clue  connecting  certain  passages  in  the  Bible — which  refer 
to  the  rites  of  the  Syrian  tribes  and  their  occasional  adoption 
in  the  Jewish  Temple — with  some  phases  of  the  Dorian  re- 
ligious ritual. 

"The  Hebrews  entering  Syria,"  says  Richard  Burton,11 
"found  it  religionized  by  Assyria  and  Babylonia,  when  the 
Accadian  Ishtar  had  passed  West,  and  had  become  Ashto. 
reth,  Ashtaroth,  or  Ashirah,  the  Anaitis  of  Armenia,  the 
Phoenician  Astarte,  and  the  Greek  Aphrodite,  the  great 

Moon-goddess  who  is  queen  of  Heaven  and  Love She 

was  worshiped  by  men  habited  as  women,  and  vice  versa; 
for  which  reason,  in  the  Torah  (Deut.  xxii,  5),  the  sexes 
are  forbidden  to  change  dress." 

In  the  account  of  the  reforming  zeal  of  King  Josiah 
(2  Kings  xxiii)  we  are  told  (v.  4)  that  "the  King  commanded 
Hilkiah,  the  high  priest,  and  the  priests  of  the  second  order, 
and  the  keepers  of  the  door,  to  bring  forth  out  of  the  temple 
of  the  Lord  all  the  vessels  that  were  made  for  Baal,  and  for 
the  grove,  and  for  all  the  host  of  heaven;  and  he  burned 
them  without  Jerusalem  in  the  fields  of  Kidron. . . .  And 
he  brake  down  the  houses  of  the  sodomites,  that  were  by 
the  house  of  the  Lord,  where  the  women  wove  hangings 
for  the  grove." 

The  word  here  translated  "sodomites"  is  the  Hebrew 
word  Kedeshim,  meaning  the  "consecrated  ones"  (males), 
and  it  occurs  again  in  i  Kings  xiv,  24;  xv,  12;  and  xxii,  46. 
And  the  word  translated  "grove"  is  Asherah.  There  is  some 
doubt,  I  believe,  as  to  the  exact  function  of  these  Kedeshim 
in  the  temple  ritual,  and  some  doubt  as  to  whether  the 
translation  of  the  word  given  in  our  Authorized  Version  is 
justified.12  It  is  clear,  however,  that  these  men  corresponded 


628  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

in  some  way  to  the  Kedeshoth  or  sacred  women,  who  were 
— like  the  Dsvadasis  of  the  Hindu  temples — a  kind  of  courte- 
san or  prostitute  dedicated  to  the  god,  and  strange  as  it  may 
seem  to  the  modern  mind,  it  is  probable  that  they  united 
some  kind  of  sexual  service  with  prophetic  functions.  Dr. 
Frazer,  speaking 13  of  the  sacred  slaves  or  Kedeshim  in 
various  parts  of  Syria,  concludes  that  "originally  no  sharp 
line  of  distinction  existed  between  the  prophets  and  the 
Kedeshim;  both  were  'men  of  God/  as  the  prophets  were 
constantly  called;  in  other  words  they  were  inspired  me- 
diums, men  in  whom  the  god  manifested  himself  from  time 
to  time  by  word  and  deed,  in  short  temporary  incarnations 
of  the  deity.  But  while  the  prophets  roved  freely  about 
the  country,  the  Kedeshim  appear  to  have  been  regularly 
attached  to  a  sanctuary,  and  among  the  duties  which  they 
performed  at  the  shrines  there  were  clearly  some  which 
revolted  the  conscience  of  men  imbued  with  a  purer 
morality." 

As  to  the  Asherah,  or  sometimes  plural  Asherim,  trans- 
lated "grove" — for  which  the  women  wove  hangings — the 
most  generally  accepted  opinion  is  that  it  was  a  wooden 
post  or  tree  stripped  of  its  branches  and  planted  in  the 
ground  beside  an  altar,  whether  of  Jehovah  or  other  gods.14 
Several  biblical  passages,  like  Jeremiah  ii,  27,  suggest  that 
it  was  an  emblem  of  Baal  or  of  the  male  organ,  and  others 
(e.g.,  Judges  ii,  13,  and  iii,  7)  connect  it  with  Ashtoreth,  the 
female  partner  of  Baal;  while  the  weaving  of  hangings  or 
garments  for  the  "grove"  suggests  the  combination  of  female 
with  male  in  one  effigy.15  At  any  rate  we  may  conclude 
pretty  safely  that  the  thing  or  things  had  a  strongly  sexual 
signification. 

Thus  it  would  seem  that  in  the  religious  worship  of  the 
Canaanites  there  were  male  courtesans  attached  to  the 
temples  and  inhabiting  their  precincts,  as  well  as  consecrated 
females,  and  that  the  ceremonies  connected  with  these 
cults  were  of  a  markedly  sexual  character.  These  ceremonies 
had  probably  originated  in  an  ancient  worship  of  sexual 


SEXUAL    CUSTOMS    AND    SOCIAL    PRACTICE      629 

acts  as  being  symbolical  of,  and  therefore  favorable  to,  the 
fertility  of  Nature  and  the  crops.  But  though  they  had  pene- 
trated into  the  Jewish  temple  they  were  detested  by  the  more 
zealous  adherents  of  Jehovah,  because — for  one  reason  at 
any  rate — they  belonged  to  the  rival  cult  of  the  Syrian  Baal 
and  Ashtoreth,  the  Kedes/nm  in  fact  being  "consecrated  to 
the  Mother  of  the  Gods,  the  famous  Dea  Syria."  10  And  they 
were  detestable,  too,  because  they  went  hand  in  hand  with 
the  cultivation  of  "familiar  spirits"  and  "wizards" — who  of 
course  knew  nothing  of  Jehovah!  Thus  we  see  (2  Kings  xxi) 
that  Manassch  followed  the  abominations  of  the  heathen, 
building  up  the  high  places  and  the  "groves"  and  the  altars 
for  Baal.  "And  he  made  his  son  pass  through  the  fire,  and 
observed  times,  and  used  enchantments,17  and  dealt  with 
familiar  spirits  and  wizards,  and  wrought  much  wickedness 
...and  he  set  a  graven  image  of  the  'grove'  in  the  house 
of  the  Lord."  But  Josiah,  his  grandson,  reversed  all  this, 
and  drove  the  familiar  spirits  and  the  wizards  out  of  the 
land,  together  with  the  Kedeshim. 

So  far  with  regard  to  Syria  and  the  Bible.  But  Dr, 
Frazer  points  out  the  curious  likeness  here  to  customs  exist- 
ing to-day  among  the  Negroes  of  the  Slave  Coast  of  West 
Africa.  In  that  region,  women,  called  Kosio,  are  attached  to 
the  temples  as  wives,  priestesses  and  temple  prostitutes  of  the 
python-god.  But  besides  these  "there  are  male  Kosio  as  well 
as  female  Kosio,  that  is  there  are  dedicated  men  as  well  as 
dedicated  women,  priests  as  well  as  priestesses,  and  the  ideas 
and  customs  in  regard  to  them  seem  to  be  similar."  18  <kln- 
deed,"  he  says,  "the  points  of  resemblance  between  the 
prophets  of  Israel  and  of  West  Africa  are  close  and  curi- 
ous." 10  It  must  be  said,  however,  that  Dr.  Frazer  does  not  in 
either  case  insist  on  the  inference  of  homosexuality.  On  the 
contrary,  he  rather  endeavors  to  avoid  it,  and  of  course  it 
would  be  unreasonable  to  suppose  any  invariable  connection 
of  these  "sacred  men"  with  this  peculiarity.  At  the  same  time 
the  general  inference  in  that  direction  is  strong  and  difficult 
to  evade. 


630  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

Throughout  China  and  Japan  and  much  of  Malaysia,  the 
so-called  Bonzes,  or  Buddhist  priests,  have  youths  or  boys 
attached  to  the  service  of  the  temples.  Each  priest  educates 
a  novice  to  follow  him  in  the  ritual,  and  it  is  said  that  the 
relations  between  the  two  are  often  physically  intimate. 
Francis  Xavier,  in  his  letters  from  Japan  (in  1549),  mentions 
this.  He  says  that  the  Bonzes  themselves  allowed  that  this 
was  so,  but  maintained  that  it  was  no  sin.  They  said  that 
intercourse  with  woman  was  for  them  a  deadly  sin,  or  even 
punishable  with  death;  but  that  the  other  relation  was, 
in  their  eyes,  by  no  means  execrable,  but  harmless  and  even 
commendable.20  And,  as  it  was  then,  so  on  the  whole  it 
appears  to  be  now,  or  to  have  been  till  very  lately.  In  all 
the  Buddhist  sects  in  Japan  (except  Shinto)  celibacy  is  im- 
posed on  the  priests,  but  homosexual  relations  are  not 
forbidden. 

And  to  return  to  the  New  World,  we  find  Cieza  de  Leon 
—who  is  generally  considered  a  trustworthy  authority — de- 
scribing practices  and  ceremonials  in  the  temples  of  New 
Granada  in  his  time  (1550)  strangely  similar  to  those  re- 
ferred to  in  the  Hebrew  Bible:  "Every  temple  or  chief 
house  of  worship  keeps  one  or  two  men,  or  more,  according 
to  the  idol — who  go  about  attired  like  women,  even  from 
their  childhood,  and  talk  like  women,  and  imitate  them  in 
their  manner,  carriage,  and  all  else." 2l  These  served  in  the 
temples,  and  were  made  use  of  "almost  as  if  by  way  of 
sanctity  and  religion"  (cast  come  for  via  de  santidad  y 
religion)}  and  he  concludes  that  "the  Devil  had  gained 
such  mastery  in  that  land  that,  not  content  with  causing 
the  people  to  fall  into  mortal  sin,  he  had  actually  persuaded 
them  that  the  same  was  a  species  of  holiness  and  religion, 
in  order  that  by  so  doing  he  might  render  them  all  the  more 
subject  to  him.  And  this  (he  says)  Fray  Domingo  told 
me  in  his  own  writing— a  man  of  whom  every  one  knows 
what  a  lover  of  truth  he  is." 

Thus,  as  Richard  Burton  remarks,22  these  same  usages  in 
connection  with  religion  have  spread  nearly  all  over  the 


SEXUAL    CUSTOMS    AND    SOCIAL    PRACTICE      6jl 

world  and  "been  adopted  by  the  priestly  castes  from  Mesopo- 
tamia to  Peru." 

It  is  all  very  strange  and  difficult  to  understand.  Indeed,  if 
the  facts  were  not  so  well-established  and  so  overwhelmingly 
numerous,  it  would  appear  incredible  to  most  of  us  nowa- 
days that  the  conception  of  "sacredness"  or  "consecration" 
could  be  honestly  connected,  in  the  mind  of  any  people,  with 
the  above  things  and  persons.  And  yet  it  is  obvious,  when 
one  sums  up  the  whole  matter,  that  though  in  cases  Cieza 
de  Leon  may  have  been  right  in  suggesting  that  religion  was 
only  brought  in  as  a  cloak  and  excuse  for  licentiousness,  yet 
in  the  main  this  explanation  does  not  suffice.  There  must 
have  been  considerably  more  at  the  back  of  it  all  than  that: 
a  strange  conviction  apparently,  or  superstition,  if  one  likes 
to  call  it  so,  that  unusual  powers  of  divination  and  prophecy 
were  to  be  found  in  homosexual  folk,  and  those  who  adopted 
the  said  hybrid  kind  of  life — a  conviction,  moreover  (or 
superstition),  so  rooted  and  persistent  that  it  spread  over  the 
greater  part  of  the  world. 

NOTES 

1  2  vols.  (Macmillan,  1908),  vol.  ii,  p.  458. 

2  Sec  also  Bancroft's  Native  Racts  of  the  Pacific  States,  vol.  i,  p.  82. 

8  Mccttrs  des  Sauvages  Amcnquains,  comparees  aux  marurf  des  pre- 
miers temps,  par  le  P.  Lafitau. 

4  Wm.  A.  Hammond  in  American  Journal  of  Neurology  and  Psychiatry, 
August,  1882,  p.  339. 

5  Sec  Dr.  Karsch,  \ahrbuch  der  Sex.  Zwisch.,  vol.  lii,  p.   142. 

6  First  Missionary   Voyage  to  the  South  Sea  Islands   (London,   1799)' 
p.  200. 

7  2  vols.  (London,  1829). 

8  Sec  chapters  v,  vi,  and  vii  in  Intermediate  Types  Among  Primitive 
Foli(  by  author. 

9  History  and  Antiquities  of  the  Doric  Race,  vol.  i,  p.  338. 

10  Sec  infra,  ch.  viii,  p.  12. 

11  The  Thousand  Nights  and  a  Night  (1886),  vol.  x,  p.  229. 

12  Sec  Frazer's  Adonis,  Attis  and  Osiris  (2nd  edition,  1907),  pp.  14,  64 
note,  etc. 

«/*«/.,  p.  67. 

14  Sec  Frazcr's  Adonis,  p.  14,  note.  etc. 

10  See  a  full  consideration  of  this  subject  in  Ancient  Pagan  and  Modern 
Christian  Symbolism,  by  Thomas  Inman  (2nd  edition,  1874),  p.  120  et  seq. 
Also  a  long  article  by  A.  £.  Whatham  in  The  American  Journal  of  Religious 


632  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

Psychology  and  Education,  for  July,  1911,  on  "The  Sign  of  the  Mother- 
goddess." 

16  See  Westcrmarck's  Origin  and  Development  of  the  Moral  Ideas,  vol. 
ii,  p.  488. 

17  All  this  suggests  the  practice  of  some  early  and  primitive  science,  and 
much  resembles  the  accusations  made  in  the  thirteenth  century  against  our 
Roger  Bacon,  pioneer  of  modern  science. 

18  Adonis,  etc.,  p.  60. 

19  Ibid.,  p.  66. 

20  See  T.  Karsch-Haack,  Forschungcn  iiber  gleichgeschlechtliche  ticbc 
(Munich),  Die  Japaner,  p.  77.  Also  The  Letters  of  Fr.  Xavier,  translated 
into  German  by  Joseph  Burg  (3  vols.,  1836-40). 

21  See  La  Cronica  del  Peru,  by  Cieza  de  Leon  (Antwerp,  1554)1  ch.  64. 

22  Op.  cit.t  p.  243. 


V 
RELIGION 


ANIMISM* 

By  SIR  EDWARD  B.  TYLOR 

I  PROPOSE  here,  under  the  name  of  Animism,  to  investi* 
gate  the  deep-lying  doctrine  of  Spiritual  Beings,  which 
embodies  the  very  essence  of  Spiritualistic  as  opposed  to 
Materialistic  philosophy.  Animism  is  not  a  new  technical 
term,  though  now  seldom  used.  From  its  special  relation 
to  the  doctrine  of  the  soul,  it  will  be  seen  to  have  a  peculiar 
appropriateness  to  the  view  here  taken  of  the  mode  in  which 
theological  ideas  have  been  developed  among  mankind. 
The  word  Spiritualism,  though  it  may  be,  and  sometimes 
is,  used  in  a  general  sense,  has  this  obvious  defect  to  us, 
that  it  has  become  the  designation  of  a  particular  modern 
sect,  who  indeed  hold  extreme  spiritualistic  views,  but 
cannot  be  taken  as  typical  representatives  of  these  views  in 
the  world  at  large.  The  sense  of  Spiritualism  in  its  wider 
acceptation,  the  general  belief  in  spiritual  beings,  is  her* 
given  to  Animism. 

Animism  characterizes  tribes  very  low  in  the  scale  oi 
humanity,  and  thence  ascends,  deeply  modified  in  its  trans- 
mission, but  from  first  to  last  preserving  an  unbroken  con- 
tinuity, into  the  midst  of  high  modern  culture.  Doctrines 
adverse  to  it,  so  largely  held  by  individuals  or  schools 
are  usually  due  not  to  early  lowness  of  civilization,  but  tc 
later  changes  in  the  intellectual  course,  to  divergence  from, 
or  rejection  of,  ancestral  faiths;  and  such  newer  develop- 
ments do  not  affect  the  present  enquiry  as  to  the  funda- 
mental religious  condition  of  mankind.  Animism  is,  in 
fact,  the  groundwork  of  the  Philosophy  of  Religion,  from 

*  Primitive  Culture.  London:  Murray,  1873. 

635 


636  iHE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

that  of  savages  up  to  that  of  civilized  men.  And  although 
it  may  at  first  sight  seem  to  afford  but  a  bare  and  meager 
definition  of  a  minimum  of  religion,  it  will  be  found  practi- 
cally sufficient;  for  where  the  root  is,  the  branches  will  gener- 
ally be  produced.  It  is  habitually  found  that  the  theory  oi 
Animism  divides  into  two  great  dogmas,  forming  parts 
of  one  consistent  doctrine;  first  concerning  souls  of  indi- 
vidual creatures,  capable  of  continued  existence  after  the 
death  or  destruction  of  the  body;  second,  concerning  other 
spirits,  upward  to  the  rank  of  powerful  deities.  Spiritual 
beings  are  held  to  affect  or  control  the  events  of  the  mate- 
rial world,  and  man's  life  here  and  hereafter;  and  it  being 
considered  that  they  hold  intercourse  with  men,  and  re- 
ceive pleasure  or  displeasure  from  human  actions,  the 
belief  in  their  existence  leads  naturally,  and  it  might  al- 
most be  said  inevitably,  sooner  or  later  to  active  reverence 
and  propitiation.  Thus  Animism,  in  its  full  development, 
includes  the  belief  in  souls  and  in  a  future  state,  in  con- 
trolling deities  and  subordinate  spirits,  these  doctrines  prac- 
tically resulting  in  some  kind  of  active  worship.  One  great 
element  of  religion,  that  moral  element  which  among  the 
higher  nations  forms  its  most  vital  part,  is  indeed  little 
represented  in  the  religion  of  the  lower  races.  It  is  not  that 
these  races  have  no  moral  sense  or  no  moral  standard,  for 
both  are  strongly  marked  among  them,  if  not  in  formal 
precept,  at  least  in  that  traditional  consensus  of  society 
which  we  call  public  opinion,  according  to  which  certain 
actions  are  held  to  be  good  or  bad,  right  or  wrong.  It  is 
that  the  conjunction  of  ethics  and  Animistic  philosophy, 
so  intimate  and  powerful  in  the  higher  culture,  seems 
scarcely  yet  to  have  begun  in  the  lower.  I  propose  here 
hardly  to  touch  upon  the  purely  moral  aspects  of  religion, 
but  rather  to  study  "he  animism  of  the  world  so  far  as 
it  constitutes,  as  unquestionably  it  does  constitute,  an  an- 
cient  and  world-wide  philosophy,  of  which  belief  is  the 
theory  and  worship  is  the  practice.  Endeavoring  to  shape 
\he  materials  for  an  enquiry  hitherto  strangely  under- 


RELIGION  637 

valued  and  neglected  it  will  now  be  my  task  to  bring  as 
clearly  as  may  be  into  view  the  fundamental  animism  of 
the  lower  races,  and  in  some  slight  and  broken  outline 
to  trace  its  course  intd  higher  regions  of  civilization.  Here 
let  me  state  once  for  all  two  principal  conditions  under 
which  the  present  research  is  carried  on.  First,  as  to  the 
religious  doctrines  and  practices  examined,  these  are  treated 
as  belonging  to  theological  systems  devised  by  human 
reason,  without  supernatural  aid  or  revelation;  in  other 
words,  as  being  developments  of  Natural  Religion.  Second, 
as  to  the  connection  between  similar  ideas  and  rites  in 
the  religions  of  the  savage  and  the  civilized  world.  While 
dwelling  at  some  length  on  doctrines  and  ceremonies  of 
the  lower  races,  and  sometimes  particularizing  for  special 
reasons  the  related  doctrines  and  ceremonies  of  the  higher 
nations,  it  has  not  seemed  my  proper  task  to  work  out 
in  detail  the  problems  thus  suggested  among  the  philoso- 
phies and  creeds  of  Christendom.  Such  applications,  ex- 
tending farthest  from  the  direct  scope  of  a  work  on  primi- 
tive culture,  are  briefly  stated  in  general  terms,  or  touched 
in  slight  allusion,  or  taken  for  granted  without  remark. 
Educated  readers  possess  the  information  required  to  work 
out  their  general  bearing  on  theology,  while  more  technical 
discussion  is  left  to  philosophers  and  theologians  specially 
occupied  with  such  arguments. 

The  first  branch  of  the  subject  to  be  considered  is  the 
doctrine  of  human  and  other  souls,  an  examination  of 
which  will  occupy  the  rest  of  the  present  theory  of  its 
development.  It  seems  as  though  thinking  men,  as  yet  at 
a  low  level  of  culture,  were  deeply  impressed  by  two  groups 
of  biological  problems.  In  the  first  place,  what  is  it  that 
makes  the  difference  between  a  living  body  and  a  dead 
one;  what  causes  waking,  sleep,  trance,  disease,  death?  In 
the  second  place,  what  are  those  human  shapes  which  ap- 
pear in  dreams  and  visions?  Looking  at  these  two  groups 
of  phenomena,  the  ancient  savage  philosophers  probably 
made  their  first  step  by  the  obvious  inference  that  every 


538  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

man  has  two  things  belonging  to  him,  namely,  a  life  and 
a  phantom.  These  two  are  evidently  in  close  connection  with 
the  body,  the  life  as  enabling  it  to  feel  and  think  and  act, 
the  phantom  as  being  its  image  or  second  self;  both,  also, 
are  perceived  to  be  things  separable  from  the  body,  the  life 
as  able  to  go  away  and  leave  it  insensible  or  dead,  the 
phantom  as  appearing  to  people  at  a  distance  from  it.  The 
second  step  would  seem  also  easy  for  savages  to  make, 
seeing  how  extremely  difficult  civilized  men  have  found  it 
to  unmake.  It  is  merely  to  combine  the  life  and  the  phan- 
tom. As  both  belong  to  the  body,  why  should  they  not 
also  belong  to  one  another,  and  be  manifestations  of  one 
and  the  same  soul  ?  Let  them  then  be  considered  as  united, 
and  the  result  is  that  well-known  conception  which  may 
be  described  as  an  apparitional-soul,  a  ghost-soul.  This,  at 
any  rate,  corresponds  with  the  actual  conception  of  the 
personal  soul  or  spirit  among  the  lower  races,  which  may 
be  defined  as  follows:  It  is  a  thin  unsubstantial  human 
image,  in  its  nature  a  sort  of  vapor,  film,  or  shadow;  the 
cause  of  life  and  thought  in  the  individual  it  animates; 
independently  possessing  the  personal  consciousness  and 
volition  of  its  corporeal  owner,  past  or  present;  capable 
of  leaving  the  body  far  behind,  to  flash  swiftly  from  place 
to  place;  mostly  impalpable  and  invisible,  yet  also  mani- 
festing physical  power,  and  especially  appearing  to  men 
waking  or  asleep  as  a  phantasm  separate  from  the  body 
of  which  it  bears  the  likeness;  continuing  to  exist  and 
appear  to  men  after  the  death  of  that  body;  able  to  enter 
into,  possess,  and  act  in  the  bodies  of  other  men,  of  ani- 
mals, and  even  of  things.  Though  this  definition  is  by  no 
means  of  universal  application,  it  has  sufficient  generality 
to  be  taken  as  a  standard,  modified  by  more  or  less  di- 
vergence among  any  particular  people.  Far  from  these 
world-wide  opinions  being  arbitrary  or  conventional  prod- 
ucts, it  is  seldom  even  justifiable  to  consider  their  uniformity 
among  distant  races  as  proving  communication  of  any 
sort.  They  are  doctrines  answering  in  the  most  forcible 


RELIGION  639' 

way  to  the  plain  evidence  of  men's  senses,  as  interpreted 
by  a  fairly  consistent  and  rational  primitive  philosophy. 
So  well,  indeed,  does  primitive  animism  account  for  the 
facts  of  nature,  that  it  has  held  its  place  into  the  higher 
levels  of  education.  Though  classic  and  mediaeval  philoso- 
phy modified  it  much,  and  modern  philosophy  has  handled 
it  yet  more  unsparingly,  it  has  so  far  retained  the  traces 
of  its  original  character,  that  heirlooms  of  primitive  ages 
may  be  claimed  in  the  existing  psychology  of  the  civilized 
world.  Out  of  the  vast  mass  of  evidence,  collected  among 
the  most  various  and  distant  races  of  mankind,  typical 
details  may  now  be  selected  to  display  the  earlier  theory 
of  the  soul,  the  relation  of  the  parts  of  this  theory,  and 
the  manner  in  which  these  parts  have  been  abandoned,  mod- 
ified, or  kept  up,  along  the  course  of  culture. 

To  understand  the  popular  conceptions  of  the  human 
soul  or  spirit,  it  is  instructive  to  notice  the  words  which 
have  been  found  suitable  to  express  it.  The  ghost  or  phan- 
tasm seen  by  the  dreamer  or  the  visionary  is  an  unsub- 
stantial form,  like  a  shadow,  and  thus  the  familiar  term 
of  the  shade  comes  in  to  express  the  soul.  Thus  the  Tas- 
manian  word  for  the  shadow  is  also  that  for  the  spirit; 
the  Algonquin  Indians  describe  a  man's  soul  as  otahchu^ 
"his  shadow,"  the  Quiche  language  uses  natub  for  "shadow, 
soul";  the  Arawac  ueja  means  "shadow,  soul,  image";  the 
Abipones  made  the  one  word  loakal  serve  for  "shadow, 
soul,  echo,  image."  The  Zulus  not  only  use  the  word  tunzi 
for  "shadow,  spirit,  ghost,"  but  they  consider  that  at  death 
the  shadow  of  a  man  will  in  some  way  depart  from  the 
corpse,  to  become  an  ancestral  spirit.  The  Basutos  not  only 
call  the  spirit  remaining  after  death  the  seriti  or  "shadow," 
but  they  think  that  if  a  man  walks  on  the  river  bank,  a 
crocodile  may  seize  his  shadow  in  the  water  and  draw 
him  in;  while  in  Old  Calabar  there  is  found  the  same 
identification  of  the  spirit  with  the  ukjpon  or  "shadow," 
for  a  man  to  lose  which  is  fatal.  There  are  thus  found 
among  the  lower  races  not  only  the  types  of  those  familiar 


640  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

classic  terms,  the  stya  and  umbra,  but  also  what  seems  the 
fundamental  thought  of  the  stories  of  shadowless  men 
still  current  in  the  folklore  of  Europe,  and  familiar  to 
modern  readers  in.  Chamisso's  tale  of  Peter  Schlemihl. 
Thus  the  dead  in  Purgatory  knew  that  Dante  was  alive 
when  they  saw  that,  unlike  theirs,  his  fingers  cast  a  shadow 
on  the  ground.  Other  tributes  are  taken  into  the  notion 
of  soul  or  spirit,  with  especial  regard  to  its  being  the  cause 
of  life.  Thus  the  Caribs,  connecting  the  pulses  with  spiritual 
beings,  and  especially  considering  that  in  the  heart  dwells 
man's  chief  soul,  destined  to  a  future  heavenly  life,  could 
reasonably  use  the  one  word  iottanni  for  "soul,  life,  heart." 
The  Tongans  supposed  the  soul  to  exist  throughout  the 
whole  extension  of  the  body,  but  particularly  in  the  heart. 
On  one  occasion,  the  natives  were  declaring  to  a  European 
that  a  man  buried  months  ago  was  nevertheless  still  alive. 
"And  one,  endeavoring  to  make  me  understand  what  he 
meant,  took  hold  of  my  hand,  and  squeezing  it,  said,  'This 
will  die,  but  the  life  that  is  within  you  will  never  die'; 
with  his  other  hand  pointing  to  my  heart."  So  the  Basutos 
say  of  a  dead  man  that  his  heart  is  gone,  and  of  one  re- 
covering from  sickness  that  his  heart  is  coming  back.  This 
corresponds  to  the  familiar  Old  World  view  of  the  heart 
as  the  prime  mover  in  life,  thought,  and  passion.  The  con- 
nection of  soul  and  blood,  familiar  to  the  Karens  and 
Papuas,  appears  prominently  in  Jewish  and  Arabic  philoso- 
phy. To  educated  moderns  the  idea  of  the  Macusi  Indians 
of  Guiana  may  seem  quaint,  that  although  the  body  will 
decay,  "the  man  in  our  eyes"  will  not  die,  but  wander 
about.  Yet  the  association  of  personal  animation  with  the 
pupil  of  the  eye  is  familiar  to  European  folklore,  which 
not  unreasonably  discerned  a  sign  of  bewitchment  or  ap- 
proaching death  in  the  disappearance  of  the  image,  pupil, 
or  baby,  from  the  dim  eyeballs  of  the  sick  man. 

The  act  of  breathing,  so  characteristic  of  the  higher  ani- 
mals during  life,  and  coinciding  so  closely  with  life  in  its 
departure,  has  been  repeatedly  and  naturally  identified 


RELIGION  641 

with  the  life  or  soul  itself.  Laura  Bridgman  showed  in 
her  instructive  way   the  analogy  between  the  effects  of 
restricted  sense  and  restricted  civilization  when  one  day 
she  made  the  gesture  of  taking  something  away  from  her 
mouth:  "I  dreamed,"  she  explained  in  words,  "that  God 
took  away  my  breath  to  heaven."  It  is  thus  that  West 
Australians  used  one  word  waug  for  "breath,  spirit,  soul"; 
that  in  the  Netela  language  of  California,  pints  means 
"life,  breath,  soul";  that  certain  Greenlanders  reckoned  two 
souls  to  man,  namely,  his  shadow  and  his  breath;  that  the 
Malays  say  the  soul  of  the  dying  man  escapes  through 
his   nostrils,   and  in   Java   use  the   same  word    nawa  for 
"breath,  life,  soul."  How  the  notions  of  life,  heart,  breath, 
and  phantom   unite  in  the  one  conception  of  a  soul  or 
spirit,  and  at  the  same  time  how  loose  and  vague  such 
ideas  are  among  barbaric  races,  is  well  brought  into  view 
in  the  answers  to  a  religious  inquest  held  in  1528  among 
the  natives  of  Nicaragua.  "When  they  die,  there  comes 
out  of  their  mouth  something  that  resembles  a  person, 
and  is  called  jttlio  (Aztec  yuli,  i.e.t  to  live).  This  being 
goes  to  the  place  where  the  man  and  woman  arc.  It  is 
like  a  person,  but  does  not  die,  and   the  body  remains 
here."  Question.  "Do  those  who  go  up  on  high  keep  the 
same  body,  the  same  face,  and  the  same  limbs,  as  here 
below?"  Answer.  "No;  there  is  only  the  heart."  Question. 
"But  since  they  tear  out  their  hearts  (i.e:,  when  a  captive 
was  sacrificed),  what  happens  then?"  Answer.  "It  is  not 
precisely  the  heart,  but  that  in  them  which  makes  them 
live,  and  that  quits  the  body  when  they  die."  Or,  as  stated 
in  another  interrogatory,  "It  is  not  their  heart  that  goes 
up  above,  but  what  makes  them  live,  that  is  to  say,  the 
breath  that  issues  from  their  mouth  and  is  called  julio" 
The  conception  of  the  soul  as  breath  may  be  followed 
up  through  Semitic  and  Aryan  etymology,  and  thus  into 
the  main  streams  of  the  philosophy  of  the  world.  Hebrew 
shows  nephesh,  "breath,"  passing  into  all  the  meanings  of 
"life,  soul,  mind,  animal,"  while  ruach  and  neshamah  make 


642  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

the  like  transition  from  "breath"  to  "spirit";  and  to  these 
the  Arabic  nefs  and  ruh  correspond.  The  same  is  the  his- 
tory of  Sanskrit  atman  and  prana,  of  Greek  psyche  and 
pneuma,  of  Latin  animus,  anima,  spiritus.  So  Slavonic  duch 
has  developed  the  meaning  of  "breath"  into  that  of  soul 
or  spirit;  and  the  dialects  of  the  Gypsies  have  this  word 
du\  with  the  meanings  of  "breath,  spirit,  ghost,"  whether 
these  pariahs  brought  the  word  from  India  as  part  of 
their  inheritance  of  Aryan  speech,  or  whether  they  adopted 
it  in  their  migration  across  Slavonic  lands.  German  geist 
and  English  ghost,  too,  may  possibly  have  the  same  original 
sense  of  breath.  And  if  any  should  think  such  expressions 
due  to  mere  metaphor,  they  may  judge  the  strength  of 
the  implied  connection  between  breath  and  spirit  by  cases 
of  most  unequivocal  significance.  Among  the  Seminoles  of 
Florida,  when  a  woman  died  in  childbirth,  the  infant  was 
-held  over  her  face  to  receive  her  parting  spirit,  and  thus 
acquire  strength  and  knowledge  for  its  future  use.  These 
Indians  could  have  well  understood  why  at  the  death- 
bed of  an  ancient  Roman,  the  nearest  kinsman  leant  over 
jo  inhale  the  last  breath  of  the  departing  (ct  excipies  hanc 
animam  ore  pio).  Their  state  of  mind  is  kept  up  to  this 
day  among  Tyrolese  peasants,  who  can  still  fancy  a  good 
man's  soul  to  issue  from  his  mouth  at  death  like  a  little 
white  cloud. 

Among  rude  races,  the  original  conception  of  the  human 
soul  seems  to  have  been  that  of  ethereality,  or  vaporous  ma- 
teriality, which  has  held  so  large  a  place  in  human  thought 
ever  since.  In  fact,  the  later  metaphysical  notion  of  imma- 
teriality could  scarcely  have  conveyed  any  meaning  to  a 
savage.  It  is  moreover  to  be  noticed  that,  as  to  the  whole 
nature  and  action  of  apparitional  souls,  the  lower  philosophy 
escapes  various  difficulties  which  down  to  modern  times 
have  perplexed  metaphysicians  and  theologians  of  the  civ- 
ilized world.  Considering  the  thin  ethereal  body  of  the 
soul  to  be  itself  sufficient  and  suitable  for  visibility,  move- 
ment, and  speech,  the  primitive  animists  had  no  need  of 


RELIGION  643 

additional  hypotheses  to  account  for  these  manifestations, 
theological  theories  such  as  we  may  find  detailed  by  Calmet, 
as  that  immaterial  souls  have  their  own  vaporous  bodies, 
or  occasionally  have  such  vaporous  bodies  provided  for 
them  by  supernatural  means  to  enable  them  to  appear  as 
specters,  or  that  they  possess  the  power  of  condensing  the 
circumambient  air  into  phantom-like  bodies  to  invest  them- 
selves in,  or  of  forming  from  it  vocal  instruments.  It 
appears  to  have  been  within  systematic  schools  of  civilized 
philosophy  that  the  transcendental  definitions  of  the  im- 
material soul  were  obtained,  by  abstraction  from  the  primi- 
tive conception  of  the  ethereal-material  soul,  so  as  to  reduce 
it  from  a  physical  to  a  metaphysical  entity. 

Departing  from  the  body  at  the  time  of  death,  the  soul 
or  spirit  is  considered  set  free  to  linger  near  the  tomb, 
to  wander  on  earth  or  flit  in  the  air,  or  to  travel  to  the 
proper  region  of  spirits — the  world  beyond  the  grave.  The 
principal  conceptions  of  the  lower  psychology  as  to  a 
Future  Life  will  be  considered  in  the  following  chapters, 
but  for  the  present  purpose  of  investigating  the  theory  of 
souls  in  general,  it  will  be  well  to  enter  here  upon  one 
department  of  the  subject.  Men  do  not  stop  short  at  the 
persuasion  that  death  releases  the  soul  to  a  free  and  active 
existence,  but  they  quite  logically  proceed  to  assist  naturep 
by  slaying  men  in  order  to  liberate  their  souls  for  ghostly 
uses.  Thus  there  arises  one  of  the  most  widespread,  dis- 
tinct, and  intelligible  rites  of  animistic  religion — that  of 
funeral  human  sacrifice  for  the  service  of  the  dead.  When 
a  man  of  rank  dies  and  his  soul  departs  to  its  own  place, 
wherever  and  whatever  that  place  may  be,  it  is  a  rational 
inference  of  early  philosophy  that  the  souls  of  attendants, 
slaves,  and  wives,  put  to  death  at  his  funeral,  will  make 
the  same  journey  and  continue  their  service  in  the  next 
life,  and  the  argument  is  frequently  stretched  further,  to 
include  the  souls  of  new  victims  sacrificed  in  order^that 
they  may  enter  upon  the  same  ghostly  servitude.  It  will 
appear  from  the  ethnography  of  this  rite  that  it  is  not 


644  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

strongly  marked  in  the  very  lowest  levels  of  culture,  but 
that,  arising  in  the  higher  savagery,  it  develops  itself  in 
the  barbaric  stage,  and  thenceforth  continues  or  dwindles 
in  survival. 

Of  the  murderous  practices  to  which  this  opinion  leads, 
remarkably  distinct  accounts  may  be  cited  from  among 
tribes  of  the  Indian  Archipelago.  The  following  account 
is  given  of  the  funerals  of  great  men  among  the  savage 
Kayans  of  Borneo:  "Slaves  are  killed  in  order  that  they 
'may  follow  the  deceased  and  attend  upon  him.  Before 
they  are  killed  the  relations  who  surround  them  enjoin 
them  to  take  great  care  of  their  master  when  they  join 
him,  to  watch  and  shampoo  him  when  he  is  indisposed, 
to  be  always  near  him,  and  to  obey  all  his  behests.  The 
female  relatives  of  the  deceased  then  take  a  spear  and 
slightly  wound  the  victims,  after  which  the  males  spear 
them  to  death."  Again,  the  opinion  of  the  Idaan  is  "that 
all  whom  they  kill  in  this  world  shall  attend  them  as 
slaves  after  death.  This  notion  of  future  interest  in  the 
destruction  of  the  human  species  is  a  great  impediment 
t<r  an  intercourse  with  them,  as  murder  goes  further  than 
present  advantage  or  resentment.  From  the  same  principle 
they  will  purchase  a  slave,  guilty  of  any  capital  crime,  at 
fourfold  his  value,  that  they  may  be  his  executioners." 
With  the  same  idea  is  connected  the  ferocious  custom 
of  "head-hunting,"  so  prevalent  among  the  Dayaks  before 
Rajah  Brooke's  time.  They  considered  that  the  owner  of 
i/very  human  head  they  could  procure  would  serve  them 
n  the  next  world,  where,  indeed,  a  man's  rank  would  be 
according  to  his  number  of  heads  in  this.  They  would 
continue  the  mourning  for  a  dead  man  till  a  head  was 
brought  in,  to  provide  him  with  a  slave  to  accompany  him 
to  the  "habitation  of  souls";  a  father  whc  lost  his  child 
would  go  out  and  kill  the  first  man  he  met,  as  a  funeral 
ceremony;  a  young  man  might  not  marry  till  he  had 
procured  a  head,  and  some  tribes  would  bury  with  a 
dead  man  the  first  head  he  had  taken,  together  with 


RELIGION  645 

spears,  cloth,  rice,  and  betel.  Waylaying  and  murdering 
men  for  their  heads  became,  in  fact,  the  Dayaks'  national 
sport,  and  they  remarked  "the  white  men  read  books,  we 
hunt  heads  instead."  Of  such  rites  in  the  Pacific  islands, 
the  most  hideously  purposeful  accounts  reach  us  from  the 
Fiji  group.  Till  lately,  a  main  part  of  the  ceremony  of  a 
great  man's  funeral  was  the  strangling  of  wives,  friends, 
and  slaves,  for  the  distinct  purpose  of  attending  him  into 
the  world  of  spirits.  Ordinarily  the  first  victim  was  th<: 
wife  of  the  deceased,  and  more  than  one  if  he  had  sev 
cral,  and  their  corpses,  oiled  as  for  a  feast,  clothed  with 
new  fringed  girdle,  with  heads  dressed  and  ornamented, 
and  vermilion  and  turmeric  powder  spread  on  their  faces 
and  bosoms,  were  laid  by  the  side  oC  the  dead  warrior. 
Associates  and  inferior  attendants  were  likewise  slain,  and 
these  bodies  were  spoken  of  as  "grass  for  bedding  the 
grave."  When  Ra  Mbithi,  the  pride  of  Somosomo,  was 
lost  at  sea,  seventeen  of  his  wives  were  killed;  and  after 
the  news  of  the  massacre  of  the  Namcna  people,  in  1839, 
eighty  women  were  strangled  to  accompany  the  spirits  of 
their  murdered  husbands.  Such  sacrifices  took  place  under 
the  same  pressure  of  public  opinion  which  kept  up  the 
widow-burning  in  modern  India.  The  Fijian  widow  was 
worked  upon  by  her  relatives  with  all  the  pressure  of  per- 
suasion and  of  menace;  she  understood  well  that  life  to 
her  henceforth  would  mean  a  wretched  existence  of  neglect, 
disgrace,  and  destitution;  and  tyrannous  custom,  as  hard 
to  struggle  against  in  the  savage  as  in  the  civilized  world, 
drove  her  to  the  grave.  Thus,  far  from  resisting,  she  be- 
came importunate  for  death  and  the  new  life  to  come, 
and  till  public  opinion  reached  a  more  enlightened  state, 
the  missionaries  often  used  their  influence  in  vain  to  save 
from  the  strangling  cord  some  wife  whom  they  could 
have  rescued,  but  who  herself  refused  to  live.  So  repug- 
nant to  the  native  mind  was  the  idea  of  a  chieftain  goi% 
unattended  into  the  other  world,  that  the  missionaries'  pro- 
hibition of  the  cherished  custom  was  one  reason  of  theif 


fy6  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

dislike  to  Christianity.  Many  of  the  nominal  Christians, 
when  once  a  chief  of  theirs  was  shot  from  an  ambush, 
esteemed  it  most  fortunate  that  a  stray  shot  at  the  same 
time  killed  a  young  man  at  a  distance  from  him,  and  thus 
provided  a  companion  for  the  spirit  of  the  slain  chief. 

In  now  passing  from  the  consideration  of  the  souls  of 
men  to  that  of  the  souls  of  the  lower  animals,  we  have 
first  to  inform  ourselves  as  to  the  savage  man's  idea, 
which  is  very  different  from  the  civilized  man's,  of  the 
nature  of  these  lower  animals.  A  remarkable  group  of 
observances  customary  among  rude  tribes  will  bring  this 
distinction  sharply  into  view.  Savages  talk  quite  seriously 
to  beasts  alive  or  dead  as  they  would  to  men  alive  or  dead, 
offer  them  homage,  ask  pardon  when  it  is  their  painful 
duty  to  hunt  and  kill  them.  A  North  American  Indian 
Will  reason  with  a  horse  as  if  rational.  Some  will  spare 
the  rattlesnake,  fearing  the  vengeance  of  its  spirit  if  slain; 
others  will  salute  the  creature  reverently,  bid  it  welcome 
as  a  friend  from  the  land  of  spirits,  sprinkle  a  pinch  of 
tobacco  on  its  head  for  an  offering,  catch  it  by  the  tail  and 
dispatch  it  with  extreme  dexterity,  and  carry  off  its  skin 
as  a  trophy.  If  an  Indian  is  attacked  and  torn  by  a  bear, 
it  is  that  the  beast  fell  upon  him  intentionally  in  anger, 
perhaps  to  revenge  the  hurt  done  to  another  bear.  When 
a  bear  is  killed,  they  will  beg  pardon  of  him,  or  even  make 
him  condone  the  offense  by  smoking  the  peace-pipe  with 
his  murderers,  who  put  the  pipe  in  his  mouth  and  blow 
down  it,  begging  his  spirit  not  to  take  revenge.  So  in 
Africa,  the  Kafirs  will  hunt  the  elephant,  begging  him 
not  to  tread  on  them  and  kill  them,  and  when  he  is  dead 
they  will  assure  him  that  they  did  not  kill  him  on  pur- 
pose, and  they  will  bury  his  trunk,  for  the  elephant  is 
a  mighty  chief,  and  his  trunk  is  his  hand  that  he  may 
hurt  withal.  The  Congo  people  will  even  avenge  such  a 
murder  by  a  pretended  attack  on  the  hunters  who  did  the 
deed.  Such  customs  are  common  among  the  lower  Asiatic 
tribes.  The  Stiens  of  Kambodia  ask  pardon  of  the  beast 


RELIGION  647 

they  have  killed;  the  Ainos  of  Yesso  kill  the  bear,  offer 
obeisance  and  salutation  to  him,  and  cut  up  his  carcase. 
The  Koriaks,  if  they  have  slain  a  bear  or  wolf,  will  flay 
him,  dress  one  of  their  people  in  the  skin,  and  dance  round 
him,  chanting  excuses  that  they  did  not  do  it,  and  espe- 
cially laying  the  blame  on  a  Russian.  But  if  it  is  a  fox^ 
they  take  his  skin,  wrap  his  dead  body  in  hay,  and  sneer- 
ing tell  him  to  go  to  his  own  people  and  say  what  famous 
hospitality  he  has  had,  and  how  they  gave  him  a  new 
coat  instead  of  his  old  one.  The  Samoyeds  excuse  them- 
selves to  the  slain  bear,  telling  him  it  was  the  Russians 
who  did  it,  and  that  a  Russian  knife  will  cut  him  up. 
The  Goldi  will  set  up  the  slain  bear,  call  him  "my  lord" 
and  do  ironical  homage  to  him,  or  taking  him  alive  will 
fatten  him  in  a  cage,  call  him  "son"  and  "brother,"  and 
kill  and  eat  him  as  a  sacrifice  at  a  solemn  festival.  In 
Borneo,  the  Dayaks,  when  they  have  caught  an  alligator 
with  a  baited  hook  and  rope,  address  him  with  respect 
and  soothing  till  they  have  his  legs  fast,  and  then  mocking 
call  him  "rajah"  and  "grandfather."  Thus  when  the  savage 
gets  over  his  fears,  he  still  keeps  up  in  ironical  merriment 
the  reverence  which  had  its  origin  in  trembling  sincerity. 
Even  now  the  Norse  hunter  will  say  with  horror  of  a 
bear  that  will  attack  man,  that  he  can  be  "no  Christian 
bear." 

The  sense  of  an  absolute  psychical  distinction  between 
man  and  beast,  so  prevalent  in  the  civilized  world,  is 
hardly  to  be  found  among  the  lower  races.  Men  to  whom 
the  cries  of  beasts  and  birds  seem  like  human  language, 
and  their  actions  guided  as  it  were  by  human  thought, 
logically  rnough  allow  the  existence  of  souls  to  beasts, 
birds,  and  reptiles,  as  to  men.  The  lower  psychology  cannot 
but  recognize  in  beasts  the  very  characteristic  which  it 
attributes  to  the  human  soul,  namely,  the  phenomena  of 
life  and  death,  will  and  judgment,  and  the  phantom  seer 
in  vision  or  in.dream.  As  for  believers,  savage  or  civilized, 
in  the  great  doctrine  of  metempsychosis,  these  not  only 


648  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

consider  that  an  animal  may  have  a  soul,  but  that  this 
soul  may  have  inhabited  a  human  being,  and  thus  the 
creature  may  be  in  fact  their  own  ancestor  or  once  familiar 
friend.  A  line  of  facts,  arranged  as  waymarks  along  the 
course  of  civilization,  will  serve  to  indicate  the  history 
of  opinion  from  savagery  onward,  as  to  the  souls  of  animals 
during  life  and  after  death.  North  American  Indians  held 
every  animal  to  have  its  spirit,  and  these  spirits  their  future 
life;  the  soul  of  the  Canadian  dog  went  to  serve  his 
master  in  the  other  world;  among  the  Sioux,  the  preroga- 
tive of  having  four  souls  was  not  confined  to  man,  but 
belonged  also  to  the  bear,  the  most  human  of  animals. 
The  Greenlandcrs  considered  that  a  sick  human  soul  might 
be  replaced  by  the  sorcerer  with  a  fresh  healthy  soul  of 
a  hare,  reindeer,  or  a  young  child.  Maori  tale-tellers  have 
heard  of  the  road  by  which  the  spirits  of  dogs  descend 
to  Reinga,  the  Hades  of  the  departed;  the  Hovas  of  Mada- 
gascar know  that  the  ghosts  of  beasts  and  men.  dwelling  in 
a  great  mountain  in  the  south  called  Ambondromble, 
come  out  occasionally  to  walk  among  the  tombs  or  execu- 
tion-places of  criminals.  The  Kamchadals  held  that  every 
creature,  even  the  smallest  fry,  would  live  again  in  the 
under  world.  The  Kukis  of  Assam  think  that  the  ghost 
of  every  animal  a  kuki  kills  in  the  chase  or  for  the  feast 
will  belong  to  him  in  the  next  life,  even  as  the  enemy 
he  slays  in  the  field  will  then  become  his  slave.  The 
Karens  apply  the  doctrine  of  the  spirit  or  personal  life- 
phantom,  which  is  apt  to  wander  from  the  body  and  thus 
suffer  injury,  equally  to  men  and  to  animals.  The  Zulus 
say  the  cattle  they  kill  come  to  life  again,  and  become  the 
property  of  the  dwellers  in  the  world  beneath.  The  Siamese 
butcher,  when  in  defiance  of  the  very  principles  of  hisf 
Buddhism  he  slaughters  an  ox,  before  he  kills  the  creature 
has  at  least  the  grace  to  beseech  its  spirit  to  seek  a  happier 
abode.  In  connection  with  such  transmigration,  Pythagorean 
and  Platonic  philosophy  gives  to  the  lower  animals  undy- 
ing souls,  while  other  classic  opinion  may  recognize  in 


RELIGION  649 

beasts  only  an  inferior  order  of  soul,  only  the  "anima" 
but  not  the  human  "animus"  besides.  Thus  Juvenal: 

"Principio   indulsit  communis  conditor   illis 
Tantum  animas;  nobis  animum  quoque  .  .  ." 

Through  the  middle  ages,  controversy  as  to  the  psychology 
of  brutes  has  lasted  on  into  our  own  times,  ranging  be- 
tween two  extremes;  on  the  one  the  theory  of  Descartes 
which  reduced  animals  to  mere  machines,  on  the  other 
what  Mr.  Alger  defines  as  "the  faith  that  animals  have 
immaterial  and  deathless  souls."  Among  modern  specu- 
lations may  be  instanced  that  of  Wesley,  who  thought 
that  in  the  next  life  animals  will  be  raised  even  above 
their  bodily  and  mental  state  at  the  creation,  "the  horrid- 
ness  of  their  appearance  will  be  exchanged  for  their 
primeval  beauty,"  and  it  even  may  be  that  they  will  be 
made  what  men  are  now,  creatures  capable  of  religion. 
Adam  Clarke's  argument  for  the  future  life  of  animals 
rests  on  abstract  justice:  whereas  they  did  not  sin,  but 
yet  are  involved  in  the  sufferings  of  sinful  man,  and  cannot 
have  in  the  present  state  the  happiness  designed  for  them, 
it  is  reasonable  that  they  must  have  it  in  another.  Although, 
however,  the  primitive  belief  in  the  souls  of  animals  still 
survives  to  some  extent  in  serious  philosophy,  it  is  obvious 
that  the  tendency  of  educated  opinion  on  the  question 
whether  brutes  have  soul,  as  distinguished  from  life  and 
mind,  has  for  ages  been  in  a  negative  and  skeptical  direc- 
tion. The  doctrine  has  fallen  from  its  once  high  estate. 
It  belonged  originally  to  real,  though  rude  science.  It  has 
now  sunk  to  become  a  favorite  topic  in  the  mild  specu- 
lative talk  which  still  does  duty  so  largely  as  intellectual 
conversation,  and  even  then  its  propounders  defend  it  with 
a  lurking  consciousness  of  its  being  after  all  a  piece  oi 
sentimental  nonsense. 

Animals  being  thus  considered  in  the  primitive  psy- 
chology to  have  souls  like  human  beings,  it  follows  as  the 
simplest  matter  of  course  that  tribes  who  kill  wives  anc> 


650  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

slaves,  to  dispatch  their  souls  on  errands  of  duty  with 
their  departed  lords,  may  also  kill  animals  in  order  that 
their  spirits  may  do  such  service  as  is  proper  to  them.  The 
Pawnee  warrior's  horse  is  slain  on  his  grave  to  be  ready 
for  him  to  mount  again,  and  the  Comanche's  best  horses 
are  buried  with  his  favorite  weapons  and  his  pipe,  all  alike 
to  be  used  in  the  distant  happy  hunting-grounds.  In  South 
America  not  only  do  such  rites  occur,  but  they  reach  a  prac* 
tically  disastrous  extreme.  Patagonian  tribes,  says  D'Orbigny, 
believe  in  another  life,  where  they  are  to  enjoy  perfect 
happiness,  therefore  they  bury  with  the  deceased  his  arms 
and  ornaments,  and  even  kill  on  his  tomb  all  the  animals 
which  belonged  to  him,  that  he  may  find  them  in  the 
abode  of  bliss;  and  this  opposes  an  insurmountable  bar- 
rier to  all  civilization,  by  preventing  them  from  accumu- 
lating property  and  fixing  their  habitations.  Not  only  do 
Pope's  now  hackneyed  lines  express  a  real  motive  with 
which  the  Indian's  dog  is  buried  with  him,  but  in  the 
North  American  continent  the  spirit  of  the  dog  has  an- 
other remarkable  office  to  perform.  Certain  Esquimaux, 
as  Cranz  relates,  would  lay  a  dog's  head  in  a  child's  grave, 
that  the  soul  of  the  dog,  who  ever  finds  his  home,  may 
guide  the  helpless  infant  to  the  land  of  souls.  In  accordance 
with  this,  Captain  Scoresby  in  Jameson's  Land  found  a 
dog's  skull  in  a  small  grave,  probably  a  child's.  Again, 
in  the  distant  region  of  the  Aztecs,  one  of  the  principal 
ceremonies  was  to  slaughter  a  techichi,  or  native  dog;  it 
was  burnt  or  buried  with  the  corpse,  with  a  cotton  thread 
fastened  to  its  neck,  and  its  office  was  to  convey  the  de- 
ceased across  the  deep  waters  of  Chiuhnahuapan,  on  the 
way  to  the  Land  of  the  Dead.  The  dead  Buraet's  favorite 
horse,  led  saddled  to  the  grave,  killed,  and  flung  in,  may 
serve  for  a  Tartar  example.  In  Tonquin,  even  wild  animals 
have  been  customarily  drowned  at  funeral  ceremonies  of 
princes,  to  be  at  the  service  of  the  departed  in  the  next  world. 
Among  Semitic  tribes,  an  instance  of  the  custom  may  be 
found  in  the  Arab  sacrifice  of  a  camel  on  the  grave,  for 


RELIGION  65} 

the  dead  man's  spirit  to  ride  upon.  Among  the  nations 
of  the  Aryan  race  in  Europe,  the  prevalence  of  such  rites 
is  deep,  wide,  and  full  of  purpose.  Thus,  warriors  were 
provided  in  death  with  horses  and  housings,  with  hounds 
and  falcons.  Customs  thus  described  in  chronicle  and  legend, 
are  vouched  for  in  our  own  time  by  the  opening  of  old 
barbaric  burial-places.  How  clear  a  relic  of  savage  mean- 
ing lies  here  may  be  judged  from  a  Livonian  account 
as  late  as  the  fourteenth  century,  which  relates  how  men 
and  women,  slaves,  sheep,  and  oxen,  with  other  things, 
were  burnt  with  the  dead,  who,  it  was  believed,  would 
reach  some  region  of  the  living,  and  find  there,  with  the 
multitude  of  cattle  and  slaves,  a  country  of  life  and  happi- 
ness. As  usual,  these  rites  may  be  traced  onward  in  sur- 
vival. The  Mongols,  who  formerly  slaughtered  camels  and 
horses  at  their  owner's  burial,  have  been  induced  to  re- 
place the  actual  sacrifice  by  a  gift  of  the  cattle  to  the 
Lamas.  The  Hindus  offer  a  black  cow  to  the  Brahmans, 
in  order  to  secure  their  passage  across  the  Vaitarani,  the 
river  of  death,  and  will  often  die  grasping  the  cow's  tail 
as  if  to  swim  across  in  herdsman's  fashion,  holding  on  to 
the  cow.  It  is  mentioned  as  a  belief  in  Northern  Europe 
that  he  who  has  given  a  cow  to  the  poor  will  find  a  cow 
to  take  him  over  the  bridge  of  the  dead,  and  a  custom 
of  leading  a  cow  in  the  funeral  procession  is  said  to  have 
been  kept  up  to  modern  times.  All  these  rites  probably 
belong  together  as  connected  with  ancient  funeral  sacri- 
fice, and  the  survival  of  the  custom  of  sacrificing  the  war- 
rior's horse  at  his  tomb  is  yet  more  striking.  Saint-Foix 
long  ago  put  the  French  evidence  very  forcibly.  Mention- 
ing the  horse  led  at  the  funeral  of  Charles  VI,  with  the  four 
valets-de-pied  in  black,  and  bareheaded,  holding  the  corners 
of  its  caparison,  he  recalls  the  horses  and  servants  killed 
and  buried  with  pre-Christian  kings.  And  that  his  readers 
may  not  think  this  an  extraordinary  idea,  he  brings  for- 
ward the  records  of  property  and  horses  being  presented 
at  the  offertory  in  Paris,  1329,  of  Edward  III,  presenting 


652  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

horses  at  King  John's  funeral  in  London,  and  of  the  funeral 
service  for  Bertrand  Duguesclin,  at  St.  Denis,  in  1389, 
when  horses  were  offered,  the  Bishop  of  Auxerre  laid 
his  hand  on  their  heads,  and  they  were  afterwards  com- 
pounded for.  Germany  retained  the  actual  sacrifice  within 
the  memory  of  living  men.  A  cavalry  general  named  Fred- 
erick Kasimir  was  buried  at  Treves  in  1781  according  to 
the  forms  of  the  Teutonic  Order;  his  horse  was  led  in 
the  procession,  and  the  coffin  having  been  lowered  into 
the  grave,  the  horse  was  killed  and  thrown  in  upon  it. 
This  was,  perhaps,  the  last  occasion  when  such  a  sacrifice 
was  consummated  in  solemn  form  in  Europe.  But  that 
pathetic  incident  of  a  soldier's  funeral,  the  leading  of  the 
saddled  and  bridled  charger  in  the  mournful  procession, 
keeps  up  to  this  day  a  lingering  reminiscence  of  the  grim 
religious  rite  now  passed  away. 

Plants,  partaking  with  animals  the  phenomena  of  life 
and  death,  health  and  sickness,  not  unnaturally  have  some 
kind  of  soul  ascribed  to  them.  In  fact,  the  notion  of  a 
vegetable  soul,  common  to  plants  and  to  the  higher  or- 
ganisms possessing  an  animal  soul  in  addition,  was  familiar 
to  mediaeval  philosophy,  and  is  not  yet  forgotten  by  nat- 
uralists. But  in  the  lower  ranges  of  culture,  at  least  within 
one  wide  district  of  the  world,  the  souls  of  plants  are 
much  more  fully  identified  with  the  souls  of  animals.  The 
Society  Islanders  seem  to  have  attributed  "varua,"  i.e.,  sur- 
viving soul  or  spirit,  not  to  men  only  but  to  animals  and 
plants.  The  Dayaks  of  Borneo  not  only  consider  men  and 
animals  to  have  a  spirit  or  living  principle,  whose  departure 
from  the  body  causes  sickness  and  eventually  death,  but 
they  also  give  to  the  rice  its  "samangat  padi,"  or  "spirit 
of  the  paddy,"  and  they  hold  feasts  to  retain  this  soul 
securely,  lest  the  crop  should  decay.  The  Karens  say  that 
plants  as  well  as  men  and  animals  have  their  "la"  ("kelah"), 
and  the  spirit  of  sickly  rice  is  here  also  called  back  like 
a  human  spirit  considered  to  have  left  the  body.  Their 
formulas  for  the  purpose  have  even  been  written  down, 


RELIGION  653 

and  this  is  part  of  one:  UO  come,  rice  kelah,  come.  Come 
to  the  field.  Come  to  the  rice. ...Come  from  the  West 
Come  from  the  East.  From  the  throat  of  the  bird,  from 
the  maw  of  the  ape,  from  the  throat  of  the  elephant.... 
From  all  granaries,  come.  O  rice  kelah,  come  to  the  rice." 
There  is  reason  to  think  that  the  doctrine,  of  the  spirits 
of  plants  lay  deep  in  the  intellectual  history  of  South-East 
Asia,  but  was  in  great  measure  superseded  under  Buddhist 
influence.  The  Buddhist  books  show  that  in  the  early  days 
of  their  religion  it  was  matter  of  controversy  whether  trees 
had  souls,  and  therefore  whether  they  might  lawfully  be 
injured.  Orthodox  Buddhism  decided  against  the  tree- 
souls,  and  consequently  against  the  scruple  to  harm  them, 
declaring  trees  to  have  no  mind  nor  sentient  principle, 
though  admitting  that  certain  dewas  or  spirits  do  reside 
in  the  body  of  trees,  and  speak  from  within  them.  Buddhists 
also  relate  that  a  heterodox  sect  kept  up  the  early  doctrine 
of  the  actual  animate  life  of  trees,  in  connection  with  which 
may  be  remembered  Marco  Polo's  somewhat  doubtful  state- 
ment as  to  certain  austere  Indians  objecting  to  green  herbs 
for  such  a  reason,  and  some  other  passages  from  later 
writers.  Generally  speaking,  the  subject  of  the  spirits  of 
plants  is  an  obscure  one,  whether  from  the  lower  races 
not  having  definite  opinions,  or  from  our  not  finding  it 
easy  to  trace  them.  The  evidence  from  funeral  sacrifices, 
so  valuable  as  to  most  departments  of  early  psychology, 
fails  us  here,  from  plants  not  being  thought  suitable  to 
send  for  the  service  of  the  dead.  Yet,  as  we  shall  see  more 
(ully  elsewhere,  there  are  two  topics  which  bear  closely 
on  the  matter.  On  the  one  hand,  the  doctrine  of  trans- 
migration widely  and  clearly  recognizes  the  idea  of  trees 
or  smaller  plants  being  animated  by  human  souls;  on  the 
other  the  belief  in  tree-spirits  and  the  practice  of  tree-worship 
involve  notions  more  or  less  closely  coinciding  with  that 
of  tree-souls,  as  when  the  classic  hamadryad  dies  with  her 
tree,  or  when  the  Talein  of  South-East  Asia,  considering 


654  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

every  tree  to  have  a  demon  or  spirit,  offers  prayers  before 
he  cuts  one  down. 

Thus  far  the  details  of  the  lower  animistic  philosophy 
are  not  very  unfamiliar  to  modern  students.  The  primitive 
view  of  the  souls  of  men  and  beasts  as  asserted  or  acted 
on  in  the  lowej:  and  middle  levels  of  culture,  so  far  belongs 
to  current  civilized  thought,  that  those  who  hold  the  doc- 
trine to  be  false,  and  the  practices  based  upon  it  futile, 
can  nevertheless  understand  and  sympathize  with  the  lower 
nations  to  whom  they  are  matters  of  the  most  sober  and 
serious  conviction.  Nor  is  even  the  notion  of  a  separable 
spirit  or  soul  as  the  cause  of  life  in  plants  too  incongruous 
with  ordinary  ideas  to  be  readily  appreciable.  But  the 
theory  of  souls  in  the  lower  culture  stretches  beyond  this 
limit,  to  take  in  a  conception  much  stranger  to  modern 
thought.  Certain  high  savage  races  distinctly  hold,  and  a 
large  proportion  of  other  savage  and  barbarian  races  make 
a  more  or  less  close  approach  to,  a  theory  of  separable  and 
surviving  souls  or  spirits  belonging  to  stocks  and  stones, 
weapons,  boats,  food,  clothes,  ornaments,  and  other  objects 
which  to  us  are  not  merely  soulless  but  lifeless. 

Yet,  strange  as  such  a  notion  may  seem  to  us  at  first 
if  we  place  ourselves  by  an  effort  in  the  intellectual  posi- 
tion of  an  uncultured  tribe,  and  examine  the  theory  of 
object  souls,  from  their  point  of  view,  we  shall  hardly 
pronounce  it  irrational.  In  discussing  the  origin  of  myth, 
some  account  has  been  already  given  of  the  primitive  stage 
of  thought  in  which  personality  and  life  are  ascribed  not 
to  men  and  beasts  only,  but  to  things.  It  has  been  shown 
how  what  we  call  inanimate  objects — rivers,  stones,  trees, 
weapons,  and  so  forth— are  treated  as  living  intelligent 
beings,  talked  to,  propitiated,  punished  for  the  harm  they 
do.  Hume,  whose  "Natural  History  of  Religion"  is  per- 
haps more  than  any  other  work  the  source  of  modern 
opinions  as  to  the  development  of  religion,  comments  on 
the  influence  of  this  personifying  stage  of  thought.  "There 
U  an  universal  tendency  among  mankind  to  conceive  all 


RELIGION  655 

beings  like  themselves,  and  to  transfer  to  every  object  those 
qualities  with  which  they  are  familiarly  acquainted,  and 
of  which  they  are  intimately  conscious. ...  The  unknown 
causes,  which  continually  employ  their  thought,  appearing 
always  in  the  same  aspect,  are  all  apprehended  to  be  of 
the  same  kind  or  species.  Nor  is  it  long  before  we  ascribe 
to  them  thought  and  reason,  and  passion,  and  sometimes 
even  the  limbs  and  figures  of  men,  in  order  to  bring  them 
nearer  to  a  resemblance  with  ourselves."  August  Comte 
has  ventured  to  bring  such  a  state  of  thought  under  terms 
of  strict  definition  in  his  conception  of  the  primary  mental 
condition  of  mankind — a  state  of  "pure  fetishism,  constantly 
characterized  by  the  free  and  direct  exercise  of  our  primi- 
tive tendency  to  conceive  all  external  bodies  soever,  natural 
or  artificial,  as  animated  by  a  life  essentially  analogous 
to  our  own,  with  mere  differences  of  intensity."  Our  com- 
prehension of  the  lower  stages  of  mental  culture  depends 
much  on  the  thoroughness  with  which  we  can  appreciate 
this  primitive,  childlike  conception,  and  in  this  our  best 
guide  may  be  the  memory  of  our  own  childish  days.  He 
who  recollects  when  there  was  still  personality  to  him  in 
posts  and  sticks,  chairs  and  toys,  may  well  understand 
how  the  infant  philosophy  of  mankind  could  extend  the 
notion  of  vitality  to  what  modern  science  only  recognizes 
as  .lifeless  things;  thus  one  main  part  of  the  lower  animistic 
doctrine  as  to  souls  of  objects  is  accounted  for.  The  doctrine 
requires  for  its  full  conception  of  a  soul  not  only  life,  but 
also  a  phantom  or  apparitional  spirit;  this  development, 
however,  follows  without  difficulty,  for  the  evidence  of 
dreams  and  visions  applies  to  the  spirits  of  objects  in  much 
the  same  manner  as  to  human  ghosts.  Everyone  who  has 
seen  visions  while  light-headed  in  fever,  everyone  who 
has  ever  dreamt  a  dream,  has  seen  the  phantoms  of  objects 
as  well  as  of  persons.  How  then  can  we  charge  the  savage 
with  far-fetched  absurdity  for  taking  into  his  philosophy 
and  religion  an  opinion  which  rests  on  the  very  evidence 
of  his  senses?  The  notion  is  implicitly  recognized  in  his 


656  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

accounts  of  ghosts,  which  do  not  come  naked,  but  clothed, 
and  even  armed;  of  course  there  must  be  spirits  of  garments 
and  weapons,  seeing  *that  the  spirits  of  men  come  bearing 
them.  It  will  indeed  place  savage  philosophy  in  no  un- 
favorable light,  if  we  compare  this  extreme  animistic  de- 
velopment of  it  with  the  popular  opinion  still  surviving 
in  civilized  countries,  as  to  ghosts  and  the  nature  of  the 
human  soul  as  connected  with  them.  When  the  ghost  of 
Hamlet's  father  appeared  armed  cap-a-pie, 

"Such  was  the  very  armour  he  had  on, 
When  he  the  ambitious  Norway  combated." 

And  thus  it  is  a  habitual  feature  of  the  ghost-stories  of 
the  civilized,  as  of  the  savage  world,  that  the  ghost  comes 
dressed,  and  even  dressed  in  well-known  clothing  worn 
in  life.  Hearing  as  well  as  sight  testifies  to  the  phantoms 
of  objects:  the  clanking  of  ghostly  chains  and  the  rustling 
of  ghostly  dresses  are  described  in  the  literature  of  appari- 
tions. Now  by  the  savage  theory,  according  to  which  the 
ghost  and  his  clothes  arc  alike  imaginary  and  subjective, 
the  facts  of  apparitions  are  rationally  met.  But  the  modern 
vulgar  who  ignore  or  repudiate  the  notion  of  ghosts  of 
things,  while  retaining  the  notion  of  ghosts  of  persons,  have 
fallen  into  a  hybrid  state  of  opinion  which  has  neither  the 
logic  of  the  savage  nor  of  the  civilized  philosopher.  . 

It  remains  to  sum  up  in  a  few  words  the  doctrine  of 
souls,  in  the  various  phases  it  has  assumed  from  first  to 
last  among  mankind.  In  the  attempt  to  trace  its  main  course 
through  the  successive  grades  of  man's  intellectual  history, 
the  evidence  seems  to  accord  best  with  a  theory  of  its  de- 
velopment, somewhat  to  the  following  effect.  At  the  lowest 
levels  of  culture  of  which  we  have  clear  knowledge,  the 
notion  of  a  ghost-soul  animating  man  while  in  the  body, 
is  found  deeply  ingrained.  There  is  no  reason  to  think 
that  this  belief  was  learnt  by  savage  tribes  from  contact 
with  higher  races,  nor  that  it  is  a  relic  of  higher  culture 
from  which  the  savage  tribes  have  degenerated;  for  what 


RELIGION  057 

is  here  treated  as  the  primitive  animistic  doctrine  is  thor- 
oughly at  home  among  savages,  who  appear  to  hold  if 
on  the  very  evidence  of  their  senses,  interpreted  on  the 
biological  principle  which  seems  to  them  most  reasonable* 
We  may  now  and  then  hear  the  savage  doctrines  and 
practices  concerning  souls  chimed  as  relics  of  a  high  re- 
ligious culture  pervading  the  primeval  race  of  man.  They 
are  said  to  be  traces  of  remote  ancestral  religion,  kept  up 
in  scanty  and  perverted  memory  by  tribes  degraded  from 
a  nobler  state.  It  is  easy  to  see  that  such  an  explanation 
of  some  few  facts,  sundered  from  their  connection  with 
the  general  array,  may  seem  plausible  to  certain  minds 
But  a  large  view  of  the   subject  can  hardly  leave  such 
argument  in  possession.  The  animism  of  savages  stands  for 
and  by  itself;  it  explains  its  own  origin.  The  animism  of 
civilized  men,  while  more  appropriate  to  advanced  knowl- 
edge, is  in  great  measure  only  explicable  as  a  developed 
product  of  the  older  and  ruder  system.  It  is  the  doctrines 
and  rites  of  the  lower  races  which  are,  according  to  their 
philosophy,   results  of  point-blank   natural   evidence  and 
acts  of  straightforward  practical  purpose.  It  is  the  doctrine? 
and  rites  of  the  higher  races  which  show  survival  of  tht 
old  in  the  midst  of  the  new,  modification  of  the  old  to 
bring  it  into  conformity  with  the  new,  abandonment  of 
the  old  because  it  is  no  longer  compatible  with  the  new. 
Let  us  see  at  a  glance  in  what  general  relation  the  doctrine 
of  souls  among  savage  tribes  stands  to  the  doctrine  of  souls 
among  barbaric  and  cultured  nations.  Among  races  within 
the  limits  of  savagery,  the  general  doctrine  of  souls  is  found 
worked  out  with  remarkable  breadth  and  consistency.  The 
souls  of  animals  are  recognized  by  a  natural  extension  from 
the  theory  of  human  souls;  the  souls  of  trees  and  plants 
fellow  in  some  vague  partial  way;  and  the  souls  of  inani- 
mate objects  expand  the  general  category  to  its  extremest 
boundary.  Thenceforth,  as  we  explore  human  thought  on« 
ward  from  savage  into  barbarian  and  civilized  life,  w< 
find  a  state  of  theory  more  conformed  to  positive  science; 


658  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

but  in  itself  less  complete  and  consistent.  Far  on  into  civili- 
zation, men  still  act  as  though  in  some  half-meant  way 
they  believed  in  souls  or  ghosts  of  objects,  while  never- 
theless their  knowledge  of  physical  science  is  beyond  so 
crude  a  philosophy.  As  to  the  doctrine  of  souls  of  plants, 
fragmentary  evidence  of  the  history  of  its  breaking  down 
in  Asia  has  reached  us.  In  our  own  day  and  country,  the 
notion  of  souls  of  beasts  is  to  be  seen  dying  out.  Animism, 
indeed,  seems  to  be  drawing  in  its  outposts,  and  concen- 
trating itself  on  its  first  and  main  position,  the  doctrine 
of  the  human  soul.  This  doctrine  has  undergone  extreme 
modification  in  the  course  of  culture.  It  has  outlived  the 
almost  total  loss  of  one  great  argument  attached  to  it— 
the  objective  reality  of  apparitional  souls  or  ghosts  seen  in 
dreams  and  visions.  The  soul  has  given  up  its  ethereal 
substance,  and  become  an  immaterial  entity,  "the  shadow 
of  a  shade."  Its  theory  is  becoming  separated  from  the  in- 
vestigations of  biology   and   mental  science,  which   now 
discuss  the  phenomena  of  life  and  thought,  the  sense  and 
the  intellect,  the  emotions  and  the  will,  on  a  groundwork 
of  pure  experience.  There  has  arisen  an  intellectual  product 
whose  very  existence  is  of  the  deepest  significance,  a  "psy- 
chology" which  has  no  longer  anything  to  do  with  "soul." 
The  soul's  place  in  modern  thought  is  in  the  metaphysics 
of  religion,  and  its  especial  office  there  is  that  of  furnishing 
an  intellectual  side  to  the  religious  doctrine  of  the  future 
life.  Such  are  the  alterations  which  have  differenced  the 
fundamental  animistic  belief  in   its  course  through  suc- 
cessive periods  of  the  world's  culture.  Yet  it  is  evidence 
that,  notwithstanding  all  this  profound  change,  the  con- 
ception of  the  human  soul  is,  as  to  its  most  essential  nature, 
continuous  from  the  philosophy  of  the  savage  thinker  to 
that  of  the  modern  professor  of  theology.  Its  definition  has 
remained  from  the  first  that  of  an  animating,  separable, 
surviving  entity,  the  vehicle  of  individual  personal  existence. 
The  theory  of  the  soul  is  one  principal  part  of  a  system 
of  religious  philosophy,  which  unites,  in  an  unbroken  line 


RELIGION  659 

of  mental  connection,  the  savage  fetish-worshiper  and 
the  civilized  Christian.  The  divisions  which  have  separated 
the  great  religions  of  the  world  into  intolerant  and  hostile 
sects  are  for  the  most  part  superficial  in  comparison  with 
the  deepest  of  all  religious  schisms,  that  which  divides 
Animism  from  Materialism, 


THE  CONCEPTION  OF  MANA  * 

By  R.  R.  MARETT 

IT  is  no  part  of  my  present  design  to  determine  by  an 
exhaustive  analysis  of  the  existing  evidence,  how  the  con- 
ception of  tnana  is  understood  and  applied  within  its  special 
area  of  distribution,  namely,  the  Pacific  region.  Such  a  task 
pertains  to  Descriptive  Ethnology;  and  it  is  rather  a  problem 
of  Comparative  Ethnology  that  I  would  venture  to  call  at- 
tention to.  I  propose  to  discuss  the  value,  that  is  to  say,  the 
appropriateness  and  the  fruitfulness — of  either  this  con- 
ception  of  mana  or  some  nearly  equivalent  notion,  such 
as  the  Huron  orenda,  when  selected  by  the  science  of 
Comparative  Religion  to  serve  as  one  of  its  categories,  or 
classificatory  terms  of  the  widest  extension. 

Now  any  historical  science  that  adopts  the  comparative 
methods  stands  committed  to  the  postulate  that  human 
nature  is  sufficiently  homogeneous  and  uniform  to  war- 
rant us  in  classifying  its  tendencies  under  formulae  co- 
extensive with  the  whole  broad  field  of  anthropological 
research.  Though  the  conditions  of  their  occurrence  cause 
our  data  to  appear  highly  disconnected,  we  claim,  even  if 
we  cannot  yet  wholly  make  good,  the  right  to  bind  them 
together  into  a  single  system  of  reference  by  means  of  cer- 
tain general  principles.  By  duly  constructing  such  theoret- 
ical bridges,  as  Dr.  Frazer  is  fond  of  calling  them,  we 
hope  eventually  to  transform,  as  it  were,  a  medley  of  inse- 
cure, insignificant  sandbanks  into  one  stable  and  glorious 
Venice. 

So  much,  then,  for  our  scientific  idea.  But  some  skeptical 
champion  of  the  actual  may  be  inclined  to  ask:  "Are  ex- 
amples as  a  matter  of  fact  forthcoming,  at  any  rate  from 

»  The  Threshold  of  Religion.  New  York:  The  Macmillaa  Co. 

660 


RELIGION  66l 

within  the  particular  department  of  Comparative  Religion, 
of  categories  or  general  principles  that,  when  tested  by 
use,  prove  reasonably  steadfast?"  To  this  challenge  it  may 
be  replied  that,  even  when  we  limit  ourselves  to  the  cause 
of  what  may  be  described  as  "rudimentary"  religion — in 
regard  to  which  our  terminology  finds  itself  in  the  para- 
doxical position  of  having  to  grapple  with  states  of  mind 
themselves  hardly  subject  to  fixed  terms  at  all — there  are 
at  all  events  distinguishable  degrees  of  value  to  be  rec- 
ognized amongst  the  categories  in  current  employment, 
Thus  most  of  us  will  be  agreed  that,  considered  as  a  head 
of  general  classification,  "tabu"  works  well  enough, -but 
"totem"  scarcely  so  well,  whilst  "fetish"  is  perhaps  alto- 
gether unsatisfactory.  Besides,  there  is  at  least  one  supreme 
principle  that  has  for  many  years  stood  firm  in  the  midst 
of  these  psychological  quicksands.  Dr.  Tylor's  conception 
of  "animism"  is  the  crucial  instance  of  a  category  that 
successfully  applies  to  rudimentary  religion  taken  at  its 
widest.  If  our  science  is  to  be  compared  to  a  Venice  held 
together  by  bridges,  then  "animism"  must  be  likened  to  its 
Rialto. 

At  the  same  time,  "lest  one  good  custom  should  corrupt 
the  world,"  we  need  plenty  of  customs;  and  the  like  holds 
true  of  categories.  In  what  follows  I  may  seem  to  be  at- 
tacking "animism,"  in  so  far  as  I  shall  attempt  to  endow 
"mana"  with  classificatory  authority  to  some  extent  at  the 
expense  of  the  older  notion.  Let  me,  therefore,  declare  at 
the  outset  that  I  should  be  the  last  to  wish  our  time- 
honored  Rialto  to  be  treated  as  an  obsolete  or  obsolescent 
structure.  If  I  seek  to  divert  from  it  some  of  the  traffic  it 
is  not  naturally  suited  to  bear,  I  am  surely  offering  it  no 
injury,  but  a  service. 

One  word  more  by  way  of  preface.  There  are  those  whc 
dislike  the  introduction  of  native  terms  into  our  scientific 
nomenclature.  The  local  and  general  usages,  they  .object, 
tend  to  become  confused.  This  may,  indeed,  be  a  real 
danger.  On  the  other  hand,  are  we  not  more  likely  to  keep 


662  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

in  touch  with  the  obscure  forces  at  work  in  rudimentary 
religion  if  we  make  what  use  we  can  of  the  clues  lying 
ready  to  hand  in  the  recorded  efforts  of  rudimentary  re- 
flection upon  religion?  The  mana  of  the  Pacific  may  be 
said,  I  think,  without  exaggeration  to  embody  rudimentary 
reflection — to  form  a  piece  of  subsconscious  philosophy. 
To  begin  with,  the  religious  eye  perceives  the  presence  of 
mana  here,  there,  and  everywhere.  In  the  next  place,  mana 
has  worked  its  way  into  the  very  heart  of  the  native  lan- 
guages, where  it  figures  as  more  than  one  part  of  speech, 
and  abounds  in  secondary  meanings  of  all  kinds.  Lastly, 
whatever  the  word  may  originally  have  signified  (as  far 
as  I  know,  an  unsettled  question),  it  stands  in  its  actual 
use  for  something  lying  more  or  less  beyond  the  reach 
of  the  senses — something  verging  on  what  we  are  wont 
to  describe  as  the  immaterial  or  unseen.  All  this,  however, 
hardly  amounts  to  proof  that  mana  has  acquired  in  the 
aboriginal  mind  the  full  status  of  an  abstract  idea.  For 
instance,  whereas  a  Codrington  might  decide  in  compre- 
hensive fashion  that  all  Melanesian  religion  consists  in  get- 
ting mana  for  oneself,1  it  is  at  least  open  to  doubt  whether 
a  Melanesian  sage  could  have  arrived,  unassisted,  at  a 
generalization  so  abstract — a  "bird's-eye  view"  so  detached 
from  confusing  detail.  Nevertheless,  we  may  well  suspect 
some  such  truth  as  this  to  have  long  been  more  or  less 
inarticulately  felt  by  the  Melanesian  mind.  In  fact,  I  take 
it,  there  would  have  been  small  difficulty  on  Bishop  Cod- 
rington's  part  in  making  an  intelligent  native  realize  the 
force  of  his  universal  proposition.  What  is  the  moral  of 
this?  Surely,  that  the  science  of  Comparative  Religion 
should  strive  to  explicate  the  meaning  inherent  in  any 
given  phase  of  the  world's  religious  experience  in  just 
those  terms  that  would  naturally  suggest  themselves,  sup- 
pose the  phase  in  question  to  be  somehow  quickened  into 
self-consciousness  and  self-expression.  Such  terms  I  would 
denominate  "sympathetic";  and  would,  further,  hazard  the 
judgment  that,  m  the  case  of  all  science  of  the  kind,  its 


RELIGION  663 

use  of  sympathetic  terms  is  the  measure  of  its  sympathetic 
insight.  Mana,  then,  I  contend,  has,  despite  its  exotic  ap> 
pearance,  a  perfect  right  to  figure  as  a  scientific  category 
by  the  side  of  tabu — a  term  hailing  from  the  same  geo- 
graphical area — so  long  as  a  classificatory  function  of  like 
importance  can  he  found  for  it.  That  function  let  us  now 
proceed,  if  so  may  be,  to  discover. 

Codrington  defines  mana,  in  its  Melanesian  use,  as  fol- 
lows: "a  force  altogether  distinct  from  physical  power, 
which  acts  in  all  kinds  of  ways  for  good  and  evil,  and  which 
it  is  of  the  greatest  advantage  to  possess  or  control";  or  again 
he  says:  "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." 
It  is  supernatural  just  in  this  way,  namely,  that  it  is  "what 
works  to  effect  everything  which  is  beyond  the  ordinary 
power  of  men,  outside  the  common  processes  of  nature." 
He  illustrates  his  point  by  examples:  "If  a  man  has  been 
successful  in  fighting,  it  has  not  been  his  natural  strength 
of  arm,  quickness  of  eye,  or  readiness  of  resource  that  has 
won  success;  he  has  certainly  got  the  mana  of  a  spirit  or  of 
some  deceased  warrior  to  empower  him,  conveyed  in  an 
amulet  of  a  stone  round  his  neck  or  a  tuft  of  leaves  in  his 
belt,  in  a  tooth  hung  upon  a  finger  of  his  bow  hand,  or  in 
the  form  of  words  with  which  he  brings  supernatural  assist- 
ance to  his  side.  If  a  man's  pigs  multiply,  and  his  gardens  are 
productive,  it  is  not  because  he  is  industrious  and  looks  after 
his  property,  but  because  of  the  stones  full  of  mana  for  pigs 
and  yams  that  he  possesses.  Of  course  a  yam  naturally  grows 
when  planted,  that  is  well  known,  but  it  will  not  be  very 
large  unless  mana  comes  into  play;  a  canoe  will  not  be  swiff, 
unless  mana  be  brought  to  bear  upon  it,  a  net  will  not  catch 
many  fish,  nor  an  arrow  inflict  a  mortal  wound." 2 

From  Polynesia  comes  much  the  same  story.  Tregear  in  his 
admirable  comparative  dictionary  of  the  Polynesian  dialects 
renders  the  word  which  may  be  either  noun  or  adjective, 
thus:  "supernatural  power;  divine  authority;  having  quali- 


664  THE    MAKIN  ,    OF    MAN 

tics  which  ordinary  persons  or  things  do  not  possess."  He 
seems  to  distinguish,  however,  what  might  be  called  a 
'"secular"  sense,  in  which  the  term  stands  generally  for 
"authority,"  or  as  an  adjective,  for  "effectual,  effective."  He 
cites  copious  instances  from  the  various  dialects  to  exemplify 
'he  supernatural  mode  of  mana.  Thus  the  word  is  applied,  in 
Maori,  to  a  wooden  sword  that  has  done  deeds  so  wonderful 
as  to  possess  a  sanctity  and  power  of  its  own;  in  Samoan,  to 
a  parent  who  brings  a  curse  on  a  disobedient  child;  in 
Hawaiian,  to  the  gods,  or  to  a  man  who  by  his  death  gives 
efficacy  to  an  idol;  in  Tongan,  to  whoever  performs  miracles, 
or  bewitches;  in  Mangarevan,  to  a  magic  stuff  given  to  a 
man  by  his  grandfather,  or,  again,  to  divination  in  general; 
and  so  forth.  In  short,  its  range  is  as  wide  as  those  of  divinity 
and  witchcraft  taken  together.  If,  on  the  other  hand,  we 
turn  to  what  I  have  called  the  secular  sense  attributed  to 
mana,  as,  for  example,  when  it  is  used  of  a  chief,  a  healer 
of  maladies,  a  successful  pleader,  or  the  winner  of  a  race,  we 
perceive  at  once  that  the  distinction  of  meaning  holds  good 
for  the  civilized  lexicographer  rather  than  for  the  unsophisti- 
cated native.  The  chief  who  can  impose  tabu,  the  caster-out 
of  disease-devils,  and,  in  hardly  less  a  degree,  the  man  who 
can  exercise  the  magic  of  persuasion,  or  who  can  command 
the  luck  which  the  most  skilled  athlete  does  not  despise,  is 
for  the  Polynesian  mind  not  metaphorically  "gifted"  or 
"inspired,"  but  literally.  Of  course,  as  in  Europe,  so  in  Poly- 
nesia, the  coin  of  current  usage  may  have  become  clipped 
with  lapse  of  time.  Thus  Plato  tells  us  that  both  the  Spartans 
and  the  Athenian  ladies  of  his  day  used  to  exclaim  of  any 
male  person  they  happened  to  admire,  "what  a  divine  man!" 
It  need  not  surprise  us,  therefore,  that  in  Mangarevan  you 
may  say  of  any  number  over  forty  manamanana — an  "awful" 
lot,  in  fact.  Such  an  exception,  however,  can  scarcely  be 
allowed  to  count  against  the  generalization  that,  throughout 
the  Pacific  region,  mana  in  its  essential  meaning  connotes 
what  both  Codrington  and  Tregear  describe  as  the  super- 
natural. 


RELIGION  665 

Now  mark  the  importance  of  this  in  view  of  the  possible 
use  of  mana  as  a  category  of  Comparative  Religion.  Com- 
parative Religion,  I  would  maintain,  at  all  events  so  long  as 
it  is  seeking  to  grapple  with  rudimentary  or  protoplasmic 
types  of  religious  experience,  must  cast  its  net  somewhat 
widely.  Its  interest  trust  embrace  the  whole  of  one,  and, 
perhaps,  for  savagery  the  more  considerable,  of  the  two 
fundamental  aspects  under  which  his  experience  or  his 
universe  (we  may  express  it  either  way)  reveals  itself  to 
the  rudimentary  intelligence  of  man.  What  to  call  this  as- 
pect, so  as  to  preserve  the  flavor  of  the  aboriginal  notion,  is 
a  difficulty,  but  a  difficulty  of  detail.  The  all-important  mat- 
ter is  to  establish  by  induction  that  such  an  aspect  is  actually 
perceived  at  the  level  of  experience  I  have  called  "rudimen- 
tary." This,  I  believe,  can  be  done.  I  have,  for  instance,  shown 
elsewhere  that  even  the  Pygmy,  a  person  perhaps  not  over- 
burdened with  ideas,  possesses  in  his  notion  of  ottdah  an 
inkling  of  the  difference  that  marks  off  the  one  province 
of  experience  from  the  other.  Of  course  he  cannot  deal  with 
oudah  abstractly;  provinces  of  experience  and  the  like  are 
not  for  him.  But  I  found  that,  when  confronted  with  par- 
ticular cases,  or  rather  types  of  case,  my  Pygmy  friend  could 
determine  with  great  precision  whether  oudah  was  there 
or  not.  What  practical  results,  if  any,  would  be  likely  to 
flow  from  this  effort  of  discernment  my  knowledge  of 
Pygmy  customs,  unfortunately,  does  not  enable  me  to  say; 
but  I  take  it  that  the  conception  is  not  there  for  nothing. 
I  shall  assume,  then,  that  an  inductive  study  of  the  ideas 
and  customs  of  savagery  will  show,  firstly,  that  an  aware- 
ness of  a  fundamental  aspect  of  life  and  of  the  world, 
which  aspect  I  shall  provisionally  term  "supernatural,"  is 
so  general  as  to  be  typical,  and,  secondly,  that  such  an  aware- 
ness is  no  less  generally  bound  up  with  a  specific  group  of 
vital  reactions. 

As  to  the  question  of  a  name  for  this  aspect  different  views 
may  be  held.  The  term  our  science  needs  ought  to  express 
the  bare  minimum  of  generic  being  required  to  constitute 


666  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

matter  for  the  experience  which,  taken  at  its  highest,  though 
by  no  means  at  its  widest,  we  call  "religious."  "Raw  material 
for  good  religion  and  bad  religion,  as  well  as  for  magic 
white  or  black" — how  are  we  going  to  designate  that  in 
a  phrase?  It  will  not  help  us  here,  I  am  afraid,  to  cast 
about  amongst  native  words.  Putting  aside  oudah  as  too  in- 
significant and  too  little  understood  to  be  pressed  into  this 
high  service,  I  can  find  nothing  more  nearly  adapted  to  the 
purpose  than  the  Siouan  wal^an  or  wa^anda;  of  which 
M'Gee  writes:  "the  term  may  be  translated  into  'mystery' 
perhaps  more  satisfactory  than  in  (sic)  any  other  single  Eng- 
lish word,  yet  this  rendering  is  at  the  same  time  too  limited, 
as  wa^anda  vaguely  denotes  also  power,  sacred,  ancient, 
grandeur,  animate,  immortal."  But  when  vagueness  reaches 
this  pitch,  it  is  time,  I  think,  to  resort  to  one  of  our  own 
more  clear-cut  notions.  Amongst  such  notions  that  of  "the 
supernatural"  stands  out,  in  my  opinion,  as  the  least  ob- 
jectionable. Of  course  it  is  our  term;  that  must  be  clearly 
understood.  The  savage  has  no  word  for  "nature."  He  does 
not  abstractly  distinguish  between  an  order  of  uniform  hap- 
penings and  a  higher  order  of  miraculous  happenings.  He  is 
merely  concerned  to  mark  and  exploit  the  di (Terence  when 
presented  in  the  concrete.  As  Codrington  says:  "A  man 
comes  by  chance  upon  a  stone  which  takes  his  fancy;  its 
shape  is  singular,  it  is  like  something,  it  is  certainly  not  a 
common  stone,  there  must  be  mana  in  it.  So  he  argues 
with  himself,  and  he  puts  it  to  the  proof;  he  lays  it  at  the 
root  of  a  tree  to  the  fruit  of  which  it  has  a  certain  resem- 
blance, or  he  buries  it  in  the  ground  when  he  plants  his 
garden;  an  abundant  crop  on  the  tree  or  in  the  garden 
shows  that  he  is  right,  the  stone  is  mana,  has  that  power 
in  it."  Here,  however,  we  have  at  all  events  the  germs  of 
our  formal  antithesis  between  the  natural  and  the  super- 
natural; which,  by  the  way,  is  perhaps  not  so  nicely  suited 
to  the  taste  of  the  advanced  theology  of  our  day  that  it 
would  have  much  scruple  about  dedicating  the  expression 
to  the  service  of  rudimentary  religion.  I  should  like  to  add 


RELIGION  667 

that  in  any  case  the  English  word  "supernatural"  seems  to 
suit  this  context  better  than  the  word  "sacred."  Uidee  du 
sacre  may  be  apposite  enough  in  French,  since  sacre  can 
stand  either  for  "holy"  or  for  "damned";  but  it  is  an  abuse 
of  the  English  language  to  speak  of  the  "sacredness"  of 
some  acdursed  wizard.  Hence,  if  our  science  were  to  take 
over  the  phrase,  it  must  turn  its  back  on  usage  in  favor  of 
etymology;  and  then,  I  think,  it  would  be  found  that  the 
Latin  sacer  merely  amounts  to  tabu,  the  negative  mode  of 
the  supernatural — a  point  to  which  I  now  proceed. 

Tabu,  as  I  have  tried  to  prove  elsewhere,  is  the  negative 
mode  of  the  supernatural,  to  which  mana  corresponds  as 
the  positive  mode.  I  am  not  confining  my  attention  to  the  use 
of  these  terms  in  the  Pacific  region,  but  am  considering  them 
as  transformed,  on  the  strength  of  their  local  use,  into  cate- 
gories, of  worldwide  application.  Given  the  supernatural  in 
any  form  there  are  always  two  things  to  note  about  it: 
firstly,  that  you  are  to  be  heedful  in  regard  to  it;  secondly, 
that  it  has  power.  The  first  may  be  called  its  negative  char- 
acter, the  second  its  positive.  Perhaps  stronger  expressions 
might  seem  to  be  required.  Tabu,  it  might  be  argued,  is  not 
so  much  negative  as  prohibitive,  or  even  minatory;  whilst 
mana  is  not  merely  positive  but  operative  and  thaumaturgic. 
The  more  colorless  terms,  however,  are  safer  when  it  is  a 
question  of  characterizing  universal  modes  of  the  super- 
natural. Given  this  wide  sense  tabu  simply  implies  that  you 
must  be  heedful  in  regard  to  the  supernatural,  not  that  you 
must  be  on  your  guard  against  it.  The  prohibition  to  have 
dealings  with  it  is  not  absolute;  otherwise  practical  religion 
would  be  impossible.  The  warning  is  against  casual,  incau- 
tious, profane  dealings.  "Not  to  be  lightly  approached"  is 
Codrington's  translation  for  the  corresponding  term  used 
in  the  New  Hebrides.  Under  certain  conditions  man  may 
draw  nigh,  but  it  is  well  for  him  to  respect  those  conditions, 
Thus  "prohibitive"  and  "minatory"  are  too  strong.  Tabut 
as  popularly  used,  may  in  a  given  context  connote  some- 
thing like  absolute  prohibition,  but  in  the  universal  appli- 


668  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

cation  I  have  given  to  it  can  only  represent  the  supernaturai 
in  its  negative  character — the  supernatural,  so  to  speak,  on 
the  defensive. 

We  come  now  to  mana.  Here,  again,  we  must  shun  de- 
scriptions that  are  too  specific.  Mana  is  often  operative  and 
thaumaturgic,  but  not  always.  Like  energy,  mand  may  be 
dormant  or  potential.  Mana,  let  us  remember,  is  an  adjec- 
tive as  well  as  a  noun,  expressing  a  possession  which  is  like- 
wise a  permanent  quality.  The  stone  that  looks  like  a  banana 
is  and  has  mana,  whether  you  set  it  working  by  planting  it 
at  the  foot  of  your  tree  or  not.  Hence  it  seems  enough  to  say 
that  mana  exhibits  the  supernatural  in  its  positive  capacity 
— ready,  but  not  necessarily  in  act,  to  strike. 

At  this  point  an  important  consideration  calls  for  notice. 
Tabu  and  mana  apply  to  the  supernatural  solely  as  viewed 
in  what  I  should  like  to  call  its  first,  or  existential,  dimen- 
sion. With  its  second,  or  moral,  dimension  they  have  nothing 
to  do  whatever.  They  register  judgments  of  fact,  as  philoso- 
phers would  say,  not  judgments  of  value;  they  are  constitu- 
tive categories,  not  normative.  Thus,  whatever  is  supernatural 
is  indifferently  tabu — perilous  to  the  unwary;  but  as  such  it 
may  equally  well  be  holy  or  unclean,  set  apart  for  God  or 
abandoned  to  devil,  sainted  or  sinful,  cloistered  or  quaran- 
tined. There  is  plenty  of  linguistic  evidence  to  show  that 
such  distinctions  of  value  are  familiar  to  the  savage  mind. 
Nor  is  it  hard  to  see  how  they  arise  naturally  out  of  the 
tabu  idea.  Thus  in  Melanesia  everything  supernatural  is  at 
once  tambu  and  rongo,  words  implying  that  it  is  fenced 
round  by  sanctions  human  and  divine;  but  there  is  a 
stronger  term  buto,  meaning  that  the  sanctions  are  specially 
dreadful  and  thereupon  becoming  equivalent  to  "abomi- 
n? ble,"  where  we  seem  to  pass  without  a  break  from  degree 
oi  intensity  to  degree  of  worth.  Passing  on  to  manat  we  find 
exactly  the  same  absence  of  moral  significance.  The  mystic 
potentiality  is  alike  for  good  and  evil.  Take,  for  example, 
two  Samoan  phrases  found  side  by  side  in  Tregear's  diction- 
ary: fa'a-mana,  to  show  extraordinary  power  or  energy,  as 


RELIGION  665 

in  healing;  Jar  a-mana-mana  to  attribute  an  accident  or  mis- 
fortune to  supernatural  powers.  Or  again,  in  Melanesia  Euro- 
pean medicine  is  called  pel  mana,  but,  on  the  other  hand, 
there  is  likewise  mana  in  the  poisoned  arrow.  Similarly, 
orenda  is  power  to  bless  or  to  curse;  and  the  same  holds 
good  of  a  host  of  similar  native  expressions,  for  instance, 
tva\an,  qube,  manitu,  ofy,  not  to  go  outside  North  America. 
Meanwhile,  in  this  direction  also  moral  valuations  soon  make 
themselves  felt.  Thus  in  the  Pacific  region  we  have  plenty 
of  special  words  for  witchcraft;  and  in  Maori  mythology  we 
even  hear  of  a  personified  witchcraft  Malyitu  dwelling  with 
the  wicked  goddess  Mini,  of  whom  Tregear  writes:  "the 
unclean  tapu  was  her  power  (mana)."  Or  again,  in  Huron, 
there  is  a  word  otgon,  denoting  specifically  the  malign  and 
destructive  exercise  of  orenda;  and  Hewitt  notes  the  curious 
fact  that  the  former  term  is  gradually  displacing  the  latter — 
as  if,  he  observes,  the  bad  rather  than  the  good  manifestations 
of  supernatural  power  produced  a  lasting  impression  on  the 
native  mind.  Elsewhere  I  have  given  Australian  examples 
of  a  similar  distinction  drawn  between  wonder-working 
power  in  general,  and  a  specifically  noxious 'variety  of  the 
same,  such  as,  for  instance,  the  well-known  arungquiltha  of 
the  Arunta. 

I  have  said  enough,  I  trust,  to  show  that  there  exists,  deep 
ingrained  in  the  rudimentary  thought  of  the  world,  a  con- 
ception of  a  specific  aspect  common  to  all  sorts  of  things  and 
living  beings,  under  which  they  appear  at  once  as  needing 
insulation  and  as  endowed  with  an  energy  of  high,  since 
extraordinary,  potential — all  this  without  any  reference  to 
the  bearing  of  these  facts  on  human  welfare.  In  this  con- 
nection I  would  merely  add  that  our  stock  antithesis  be- 
tween magic  and  religion  becomes  applicable  only  when 
we  pass  from  this  to  the  second  or  moral  dimension  of  the 
supernatural.  Presented  in  its  double  character  of  tabu  and 
mana  the  supernatural  is  not  moral  or  immoral,  but  simply 
unmoral.  It  is  convenient  to  describe  its  sphere  as  that  of  the 
magico-religious;  but  strictly  speaking  it  is  that  which  is 


670  THE    MAKING    QF    MAN 

neither  magical  nor  religious,  since  these  terms  of  valuation 
have  yet  to  be  superinduced.  I  am  aware  that  the  normative 
function  of  these  expressions  is  not  always  manifest,  that  it 
is  permissible  to  speak  of  false  religion,  white  magic,  and 
so  on.  But,  for  scientific  purposes,  at  any  rate,  an  evaluatory 
use  ought,  I  think,  to  be  assigned  to  this  historic  disjunction, 
not  merely  in  view  of  the  usage  of  civilized  society,  but  as 
a  consequence  of  that  tendency  to  mark  off  by  discriminative 
epithets  the  good  and  the  bad  supernaturalisms,  the  king- 
doms of  God  and  of  the  Devil,  which  runs  right  through  the 
hierological  language  of  the  world. 

The  rest  of  this  paper  will  be  concerned  with  a  more 
perplexing  and  hence,  probably,  more  controversial,  side 
of  the  subject.  Put  in  a  nutshell  the  problem  is  the  following: 
How  does  "animism"  fit  into  the  scheme?  Is  the  super- 
natural identical  with  the  spiritual,  and  is  mana  nothing 
more  or  less  than  spiritual  power?  Or,  on  the  contrary,  are 
mana  and  "soul"  or  "spirit"  categories  that  belong  to  rela- 
tively distinct  systems  of  ideas — do  the  two  refuse  to 
combine? 

As  regards  t'his  latter  question,  our  minds  may  quickly  be 
set  at  rest.  Somehow  these  categories  do  manage  to  combine 
freely,  and  notably  in  that  very  Pacific  region  where  mana  is 
at  home.  The  Melanesia!!  evidence  collected  by  Codrington 
is  decisive.  Wherever  mana  is  found — and  that  is  to  say 
wherever  the  supernatural  reveals  itself — this  mana  is  re- 
ferred to  one  of  three  originating  sources,  namely,  a  living 
man,  a  dead  man's  ghost,  or  a  "spirit";  spirits  displaying 
one  of  two  forms,  that  of  a  ghostlike  appearance — as  a  native 
put  it,  "something  indistinct,  with  no  definite  outline,  gray 
like  dust,  vanishing  as  soon  as  looked  at" — or  that  of  the 
ordinary  corporeal  figure  of  a  man.  Other  manifestations  of 
the  supernatural  are  explained  in  terms  of  these  three,  or 
rather  the  last  two,  agencies.  A  sacred  animal,  or  again, 
a  sacred  stone,  is  one  which  belongs  to  a  ghost  or  spirit, 
or  in  which  a  ghost  or  spirit  resides.  Can  we  say,  then,  that 
"animism"  is  in  complete  possession  of  the  field?  With  a 


RELIGION  671 

little  stretching  of  the  term,  I  think,  we  can.  Ghosts  and 
spirits  of  ghostlike  form  are  obviously  animistic  to  the  core. 
Supernatural  beings  of  human  and  corporeal  form  may  per- 
haps be  reckoned  by  courtesy  as  spirits;  though  really  we  have 
here  the  rudiments  of  a  distinct  and  alternative  develop- 
ment, namely,  anthropomorphic  theism,  a  mode  of  con- 
ception that  especially  appeals  to  the  mythological  fancy. 
Finally,  animism  can  be  made  without  much  trouble  to  cover 
the  case  of  the  living  man  with  mana.  If  a  man  has  mana, 
it  resides  in  his  "spiritual  part"  or  "soul,"  which  after  his 
death  becomes  a  ghost.  Besides,  it  appears,  no  man  has  this: 
power  of  himself;  you  can  say  that  he  has  mana  with  the  use 
of  the  substantive,  not  that  he  is  mana,  as  you  can  say  of 
a  ghost  or  spirit.  This  latter  "puts  the  mana  into  the  man" 
(mana — a  causative  verb)  or  "inspires"  him;  and  an  in- 
spired man  will  even,  in  speaking  of  himself,  say  not  "I"" 
but  "we  two."  There  seems,  however,  to  be  a  certain  flaw- 
in  the  native  logic,  involving  what  comes  perilously  near 
to  argument  in  a  circle.  Not  every  man  has  mana,  not  every 
ghost;  but  the  soul  of  man  of  power  becomes  as  such  a 
ghost  of  power,  though  in  his  capacity  of  ghost  he  has  it  in 
greater  force  than  when  alive.  On  the  ground  of  this  ca- 
pacity for  earning,  if  not  enjoying,  during  life  the  right  to  be 
manar  I  have  ventured  provisionally  to  class  the  living  man 
with  the  ghost  and  with  the  spirit  as  an  independent  owner 
of  mana;  but  it  is  clear  that,  in  defiance  of  logic,  animism 
has  contrived  to  "jump  the  claim." 

Having  thus  shown  in  the  briefest  way  that  mana  and 
"animism"  can  occur  in  combination,  I  proceed  to  the  awk- 
ward task  of  determining  how,  if  treated  as  categories  appli- 
cable to  rudimentary  religion  in  general,  they  are  to  be 
provided  each  with  a  classificatory  function  ot  its  own.  Per- 
haps ihe  simplest  way  ot  meeting,  or  rather  avoiding,  the 
difficulty  is  to  deny  that  "animism"  is  a  category  that  be- 
longs intrinsically  10  our  science  at  all  Certainly  it  might 
be  said  to  pertain  more  properly  to  some  interest  wider  than 
the  magico-religious,  call  it  rudimentary  philosophy  or  what 


672  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

we  will.  It  makes  no  difference  whether  we  take  animism  in 
the  vaguer  Spencerian  sense  of  the  attribution  of  life  and 
animation — an  attitude  of  mind  to  which  I  prefer  to  give  the 
distinguishing  name  of  "animatism"— or  in  the  more  exact 
Tylorian  sense  of  the  attribution  of  soul,  ghost,  or  ghost-like 
spirit.  In  either  case  we  are  carried  far  beyond  the  bounds 
of  rudimentary  religion,  even  when  magic  is  made  co- 
partner in  the  system.  There  is  obviously  nothing  in  the 
least  supernatural  in  being  merely  alive.  On  the  other  hand, 
to  have  soul  is,  as  we  have  seen,  not  necessarily  to  have  mana 
here  or  hereafter.  The  rudimentary  philosophy  of  Melanesia 
bounds  in  nice  distinctions  of  an  animistic  kind  as  follows: 
A  yam  lives  without  intelligence,  and  therefore  has  no 
tarunga  or  "soul."  A  pig  has  a  tarunga  and  so  likewise  has 
a  man,  but  with  this  difference  that  when  a  pig  dies  he  has 
no  tindalo  or  "ghost,"  but  a  man's  tarunga  at  his  death  be- 
comes a  tindalo.  Even  so,  however,  only  a  great  man's  ta- 
runga becomes  a  tindalo  with  mana,  a  "ghost  of  worship," 
as  Codrington  renders  it.  Meanwhile,  as  regards  a  vui  or 
"spirit,"  its  nature  is  apparently  the  same  as  that  ot  a  soul, 
or  at  any  rate  a  human  soul,  but  it  is  never  without  mana. 
Thus  only  the  higher  grades  ot  this  animistic  hierarchy  rank 
as  supernatural  beings;  and  you  know  them  for  what  they 
are  not  by  their  soul-like  nature,  but  by  the  mana  that  is  in 
them. 

It  remains  to  add  that  mana  can  come  very  near  to  mean- 
ing "soul"  or  "spirit,"  though  without  the  connotation  of 
wraith-like  appearance.  Tregear  supplies  abundant  evi- 
dence from  Polynesia.  Mana  from  meaning  indwelling 
power  naturally  passes  into  the  sense  of  "intelligence," 
energy  of  character,"  "spirit";  and  the  kindred  term  man- 
awa  (manava)  expresses  "heart."  "the  interior  man"  "con- 
science," "soul";  whilst  various  other  compounds  of  mana 
between  them  yield  a  most  complete  psychological  vocabu- 
lary—words for  thought,  memory,  belief,  approval,  affection, 
desire  «md  so  forth.  Meanwhile,  mana  always,  I  think,  falls 
short  of  expressing  "individuality."  Though  immaterial  it  is 


RELIGION  673 

perfectly  transmissible.  Thus  only  last  week  a  correspondent 
wrote  to  me  from  Simbo  in  the  Solomon  Islands  to  say 
that  a  native  has  no  objection  to  imparting  to  you  the  words 
of  a  mana  song.  The  mere  knowledge  will  not  enable  you 
to  perform  miracles.  You  must  pay  him  money,  and  then 
ipso  facto  he  will  transmit  the  mana  to  you — as  we  should 
say,  the  "good-will"  of  the  concern.  On  the  other  hand,  anim- 
ism lends  itself  naturally  to  this  purpose.  It  is  true  that  there 
is  often  very  little  individuality  attaching  to  the  nameless 
spirit  (vui)  that  may  enter  into  a  man.  But  the  ghost  (tin- 
dale)  that  inspires  you  is  apt  to  retain  its  full  selfhood,  so 
that  the  possessed  one  speaks  of  "we  two — So-and-so  and  I." 

I  conclude,  then,  that  mana,  or  rather  the  tabu-mana 
formula,  has  solid  advantages  over  animism,  when  the 
avowed  object  is  to  find  what  Dr.  Tylor  calls  "a  mini- 
mum definition  of  religion."  Mana  is  coextensive  with  the 
supernatural;  animism  is  far  too  wide.  Mana  is  always  mana, 
supernatural  power,  differing  in  intensity — in  voltage,  so  to 
speak — but  never  in  essence;  animism  splits  up  into  more  or 
less  irreducible  kinds,  notably  "soul,"  "spirit,"  and  "ghost." 
Finally,  mana,  whilst  fully  adapted  to  express  the  immaterial 
— the  unseen  force  at  work  behind  the  seen — yet,  conform- 
ably with  the  incoherent  state  of  rudimentary  reflection, 
leaves  in  solution  the  distinction  between  personal  and  im- 
personal, and  in  particular  does  not  allow  any  notion  of 
a  high  individuality  to  be  precipitated.  Animism,  on  the 
other  hand,  tends  to  lose  touch  with  the  supernatural  in 
its  more  impersonal  forms,  and  is  not  well  suited  to  express 
its  transmissibility  nor  indeed  its  immateriality;  but,  by  way 
of  compensation,  it  can,  in  a  specialized  form,  become  a 
means  of  representing  supernatural  agents  of  high  indi- 
viduality, whenever  the  social  condition  of  mankind  is  ad- 
vanced enough  to  foster  such  a  conception. 

The  last  consideration  paves  the  way  for  a  concluding 
observation.  Throughout  I  have  been  in  search  of  classifi- 
catory  categories  applicable  to  rudimentary  religion  as  a 
whole.  In  other  words,  I  have  assumed  that  the  subject  is  to 


674  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

be  treated  as  if  it  represented  a  single  level  of  experience,  and, 
moreover,  that  the  treatment  is  to  limit  itself  to  the  work  of 
classifying — that  is,  arranging  the  facts  under  synoptic  head- 
lines. Now  such,  I  think,  must  be  the  prime  object  of  our 
science  at  its  present  stage  of  development.  We  must  not 
try  to  move  too  fast.  Some  day,  however,  when  our  knowl- 
edge is  fuller  and  better  organized,  we  may  hope  to  be  able 
to  deal  with  the  history  of  religion  genetically — to  exhibit 
the  successive  stages  of  a  continuous  process  of  orthogenic 
or  central  evolution,  whilst  making,  at  the  same  time,  full 
allowance  for  the  thousand  and  one  sideshoots  of  the  wide- 
spreading  family  tree  of  human  culture.  Now  when  it  comes 
to  exhibiting  genesis,  it  may  well  be,  I  think,  that,  along 
certain  lines  of  growth,  and  perhaps  along  the  central  line 
itself,  mana  will  at  a  certain  point  have  to  give  way  to  one 
or  another  type  of  animistic  conception.  Where  marked  in- 
dividualities tend  to  be  lacking  in  society,  as  in  Australia, 
there  it  will  be  found  that  the  supernatural  tends  normally 
to  be  apprehended  under  more  or  less  impersonal  forms. 
This  holds  true  even  within  the  strict  habitat  of  the  mana 
doctrine.  Thus  in  the  New  Hebrides,  where  the  culture  is 
relatively  backward,  the  prevailing  animistic  conception  is 
that  of  the  vui,  or  "spirit,"  a  being  often  nameless,  and,  at 
the  best,  of  vague  personality.  On  the  other  hand,  in  the 
Solomon  Islands,  where  the  culture  is  more  advanced,  the 
religious  interest  centers  in  the  tindalo  mana  or  ghost  of 
power — the  departed  soul  of  some  well-known  individual. 
In  effect,  hero-worship  has,  with  the  evolution  of  the  hero, 
superinduced  itself  upon  some  sort  of  polydarmonism  redo- 
lent of  democracy.  But  I  refrain  from  further  speculation , 
about  religious  evolution.  They  are  tempting,  but,  in  the 
present  state  of  our  knowledge,  hardly  edifying.  I  wouLl 
merely  add,  glancing  forwards  for  a  moment  from  rudimen 
tary  religion  to  what  we  call  "advanced,"  that  to  the  end 
animism  never  manages  to  drive  the  more  impersonal  con- 
ceptions of  the  supernatural  clean  out  of  the  field.  The 
"ghost,"  clearly,  does  not  hold  its  own  for  long.  Anthropo- 


RELIGION  675 

morphic  theism,  on  the  other  hand,  a  view  that  is  bred 
from  animatism  rather  than  from  animism  proper,  domi- 
nates many  of  the  higher  creeds,  but  not  all.  Buddhism  is 
.1  standing  example  of  an  advanced  type  of  religion  that 
exalts  the  impersonal  aspect  of  the  divine.  It  is,  again,  espe- 
cially noticeable  how  a  thinker,  such  as  Plato,  with  all  hi? 
interest  in  soul,  human  personality,  and  the  subjective  in 
general,  hesitates  between  a  personal  and  an  impersonal 
rendering  of  the  idea  of  God.  Thus  the  ambiguity  that  lies 
sleeping  in  mana  would  seem  to  persist  to  some  extent  even 
when  religious  experience  is  at  its  most  self-conscious.  In 
the  meantime  all  religions,  low  and  high,  rudimentary  ancf 
advanced,  can  join  in  saying  with  the  psalmist  that  "powei 
belongeth  unto  God." 

NOTES 

1  R.  II.  Codrington,  Thr  Melancstans  (Oxford,  1891),  p.  119  ». 

2  Codnngton,  op.  cit.,  pp.  118-120. 


ANIMISM  AND  THE  OTHER  WORLD* 

By  GEZA  ROHEIM 
SYMPATHETIC   MAGIC 

AMONG  the  Tharumba  and  neighboring  tribes,  if  a  sorcerer 
obtains  some  of  the  excreta,  hair,  nails,  or  other  parts  of 
the  enemy's  body, 'he  takes  it  to  a  "squeaking  tree"  and 
places  it  between  the  touching  surfaces  of  the  two  branches 
causing  the  "squeak."  When  the  wind  blows,  this  fragment 
is  squeezed  and  ground  to  atoms,  and  the  owner  is  believed 
to  suffer  in  the  same  way.1  The  Koko-minni  blacks  of  the 
Palmer  River  employ  an  instrument  known  as  Ti  or  Eti 
for  injuring  one  another  at  a  distance.  It  is  formed  of  a  piece 
of  human  shinbone  or  a  slip  of  bamboo,  the  free  end  being 
covered  with  cement,  and  the  whole  is  enclosed  in  a  bark 
covering.  When  the  magician  has  put  some  of  the  intended 
victim's  hair,  urine,  or  excrement  into  the  bone  or  bamboo, 
he  burns  it  and  so  makes  his  victim  sick.  A  cure  can  be 
effected  by  taking  the  patient's  spear  and  dilly-bag  to  the 
waterside.  A  supernatural  serpent,  visible  only  to  the  medi- 
cine man,  devours  these  objects,  and  the  patient  is  saved. 
The  Proserpine  River  black  makes  an  enemy  sick  by  sticking 
a  bone  pin  into  the  place  where  he  has  been  defecating  01 
micturating.2  Among  the  Kabi  and  Wakka,  to  obtain  pos* 
session  of  a  man's  hair  or  ordure  was  to  ensure  his  death. 
He  declined  as  these  decayed.  It  was  dangerous  to  pass 
under  a  leaning  tree  or  fence.  The  reason  alleged  for  caution 
in  this  respect  was  that  a  woman  might  have  been  under  the 
tree  or  fence  and  that  blood  from  her  might  have  fallen 
upon  it. 

Akin  to  this  dread  of  passing  under  an  elevated  object, 

*  Animism,  Magic  and  the  Divine  King.  New  York:  Alfred  A, 
Knopf,  Inc. 

676 


RELIGION  677 

and  due  no  doubt  to  the  same  cause,  is  that  fear  of  another 
person's  stepping  over  one's  body.8 

This  kind  of  sorcery  is  called  ngadhungi  by  the  NarrinyerL 
It  is  practiced  in  the  following  manner:  every  adult  black- 
fellow  is  constantly  on  the  lookout  for  bones  of  ducks, 
swans,  or  other  birds,  or  of  the  fish  called  ponde,  the  flesh 
of  which  has  been  eaten  by  a  human  being.  Of  these  he 
constructs  his  charms.  All  the  natives,  therefore,  are  careful 
to  burn  the  bones  of  the  animals  which  they  eat,  so  as  to 
prevent  their  enemies  from  getting  hold  of  them;  but  in 
spite  of  this  precaution,  such  bones  are  commonly  obtained 
by  disease-makers  who  want  them.  When  a  man  has  ob- 
tained a  bone — for  instance,  the  leg  bone  of  a  duck — he 
imagines  that  he  possesses  the  power  of  life  and  death  over 
the  man,  woman,  or  child  who  ate  its  flesh.  The  bone  is 
prepared  by  being  scraped  into  something  like  a  skewer; 
a  small  round  lump  is  then  made  by  mixing  a  little  fish 
oil  and  red  ochre  into  a  paste,  and  enclosing  in  it  the  eye  of 
a  Murray  cod  and  a  small  piece  of  the  flesh  of  a  dead  human 
body.  This  lump  is  stuck  on  the  top  of  the  bone  and  a 
covering  tied  over  it,  and  it  is  put  in  the  bosom  of  a  corpse 
in  order  that  it  may  derive  deadly  potency  by  contact  with 
corruption.  After  it  has  remained  there  for  some  time  it  is 
considered  fit  for  use,  and  is  put  away  until  its  assistance  is 
required.  Should  circumstances  arise  calculated  to  excite  the 
resentment  of  the  disease-maker  towards  the  person  who 
ate  the  flesh  of  the  animal  from  which  the  bone  was  taken, 
he  immediately  sticks  the  bone  in  the  ground  near  the  fire  so 
that  the  lump  aforesaid  may  melt  away  gradually,  firmly 
believing  that  as  it  dissolves  it  will  produce  disease  in  the 
person  for  whom  it  was  designed,  however  distant  he  may 
be.  The  entire  melting  and  dropping  off  of  the  lump  is  sup- 
posed to  cause  death.4 

This  form  of  magic  is  well  known  to  anthropologists, 
and  is  usually,  but  loosely,  called  sympathetic  magic,  on  ac- 
count of  the  sympathy  which  is  still  supposed  to  connect  the 
original  owner  with  the  severec  part  of  his  body.  Sir  James 


678  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

Frazer  mys  stress  on  the  former  connection  of  the  severed 
part  with  the  whole  and  speaks  therefore  of  contagious 
magic.5  It  is  remarkable  that  this  well-nigh  universal  form 
of  magic  is  conspicuous  by  its  absence  in  Central  Australia. 
We  quote  Spencer  and  Gillen: 

"In  connection  with  the  question  of  magic,  it  may  be  noticed, 
in  conclusion,  that  a  special  form  which  is  widely  met  with  in 
other  Australian  tribes  is  not  practiced  amongst  these.  We  refer 
to  the  attempt  to  injure  an  enemy  by  means  of  securing  and 
then  practicing  some  form  of  charm  upon  some  part  of  his 
person  such  as  hair  or  nail  clippings."  6 

We  can  guess  the  reason  of  this  difference.  The  Central 
Australian  native  dreads  something  else;  the  loss  of  his 
churinga.  If  this  is  the  real  reason,  we  should  say  that  the 
displacement  of  a  phobia  has  taken  place  and  then  there  must 
be  an  identical  meaning  underlying  these  two  losses.  Be 
that  as  it  may,  at  any  rate,  we  find  sympathetic  magic  again 
among  the  Kakadu  who  have  only  the  rudiments  of  the 
churinga  concept.7  On  account  of  this  magic,  called  I(prno 
(excrement),  they  are  very  careful  to  hide  from  view  all 
excremental  matter,  so  that  their  camps  are  more  cleanly 
than  those  of  other  tribes.  But  a  medicine  man,  of  course, 
can  find  the  desired  \orno.  They  put  it  in  little  wax  spheres, 
dig  a  pit,  and  when  the  fire  is  hot  enough  the  real  perform- 
ance begins.  The  men  bend  forward  each  of  them  with 
his  hand  between  his  legs,'  and  the  women  do  the  same, 
because  the  spirit  must  not,  on  any  account,  see  their 
private  parts.  If  it  were  to  do  so  they  would  swell  enormously. 

Now  some  feathers  that  have  been  prepared  are  knocked 
into  the  sphere,  one  by  one,  the  natives  saying:  "Keep  quiet, 
keep  quiet,"  the  idea  being  that  the  birds  they  represent  will 
thereby  be  persuaded  not  to  give  notice  to  the  victim  that 
any  danger  such  as  a  snake  or  crocodile  threatens  him. 
Then  the  men  sway  about,  looking  as  fierce  as  they  possibly 
can,  while  they  place  the  wax  spheres  in  the  peindi.  Away 
in  the  distance  they  can  hear  the  spirit  cursing  and  swearing, 


RELIGION  679 

saying:  "Mulyarinyu  foiyu"8  and  using  other  opprobrious 
expressions.  The  men  say:  "Nert(,  ner\,  ner{,"  and  beckon 
it  onwards.  It  is  under  a  spell  and  comes  on  cursing  more 
and  more  loudly.  When  it  is  near,  the  natives  crouch  down 
silently,  the  front  man  ready  for  action.  On  it  comes  like 
a  whirlwind,  rushes  along  the  trench,  scraping  against  the 
sharp  Pandanus  leaves.  Suddenly,  when  it  reaches  the 
brink  of  the  peindi,  the  front  man  knocks  the  stick  repre' 
senting  it  into  the  fire  on  the  top  of  the  \orno.  All  of  them 
shout:  "Ah,  Ah,  Ah,  Ach,  Ach,  Brng,  Brng!"  at  the  top  of 
their  voices.  Without  a  moment's  pause,  stones  and  earth 
are  piled  on  the  Yalmum  (soul),  one  specially  large  stone 
being  placed  on  top,  the  men  pressing  down  hard  with  all 
their  might  to  keep  it  in.  The  spirit  underneath  can  be 
heard  sizzling  and  swearing.  It  tries  to  lift  the  stone,  but 
cannot.  At  length  it  is  heard  to  say:  "Grr,  Grr,  u-u."  Then 
it  is  quiet  and  all  is  over.  The  Pandanus  leaves  are  rubbed 
on  the  top  stone,  while  the  names  of  different  snakes,  Ngaba- 
daua,  Yidaburabara,  and  Numberanerji,  are  hissed  out.  One 
or  other  of  them  is  supposed  to  be  sure  to  bite  the  victim 
before  long.  Finally  a  log  of  wood  that  is  supposed  to  repre- 1 
sent  a  crocodile,  which  it  is  hoped  will  seize  him  some  day 
when  he  is  bathing,  is  placed  on  top,  and  then,  when  the 
performers  have  smeared  their  bodies  over  with  burnt  cork- 
wood and  grass,  the  ceremony  is  at  an  end,  and  they  go  back 
to  camp.  Any  one  coming  across  the  remains  of  the  trench, 
and  seeing  the  stones  and  log  piled  up  above  the  small 
mound,  knows  that  evil  magic  has  been  performed.  It  is 
supposed  that,  by  the  capture  of  the  Yalmuru,  the  man  is  left 
without  his  protector.  If,  for  example,  he  be  out  in  the  bush, 
there  will  be  no  spirit  to  warn  him  of  approaching  danger, 
or  guide  him  to  where  he  can  secure  his  food.9 

After  having  thus  given  a  few  facts  from  the  Australian 
continent,  we  must  call  the  reader's  attention  to  some  promi- 
nent features  of  this  form  of  magic.  It  seems  that  the  funda- 
mental feafr  of  savages  is  connected  with  the  idea  of  a  part 
being  separated  from  the  whole.  This  part  is  inserted  be 


680  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

twcen  two  branches,  put  into  a  bamboo,  or  burnt.  From  the 
case  of  the  Kakadu  we  gather  the  idea  that  the  whole  cere- 
mony must  have  something  to  do  with  the  genital  act; 
otherwise  why  do  they  cover  the  private  parts  and  why 
does  the  bad  language  used  by  the  spirit  refer  to  the 
mother  ? 

If  we  make  use  of  explanations  arrived  at  elsewhere  our 
work  will  be  made  easy  indeed.  We  have  shown  frequent 
use  of  the  tree  as  a  mother-symbol  in  Australia;  between  the 
two  branches  would  therefore  mean  between  the  two  legs, 
in  the  vagina.  Thexhuringa  is  a  penis-symbol,  and  therefore 
the  loss  of  the  churinga  would  be  castration.  This  is  curi- 
ously confirmed  by  the  fact  that  Mathew,  after  describing 
sympathetic  magic,  passes  on  to  the  phobia  of  the  aboriginals 
with  regard  to  women's  blood,  a  phobia  that  develops  into 
&  dread  of  passing  under  a  tree,  thus  confirming  our 
view  of  the  symbolic  equation  woman  (mother)=  tree,  and 
at  the  same  time  revealing  the  real  dread  as  that  of  passing 
under  a  woman,  /.£.,  into  her  vagina.  The  next  analogy  again 
confirms  this;  they  are  afraid  of  somebody  stepping  over 
them.  We  have  already  found  sufficient  reason  for  explain- 
ing "stepping  over"  as  a  symbol  of  coitus™  and  in  point  of 
fact,  it  is  in  coitus  that  a  fart  is  separated  from  the  whole* 
This  is  what  the  whole  body  feels  in  a  hallucinatory  fashion, 
the  penis  itself  gets  nearer  to  this  danger  and  finally  the 
seminal  fluid  really  suffers  this  separation.11  From  the  wish- 
fulfillment  point  of  view,  all  this  refers  to  uterine  regression, 
and  it  is  also  from  this  point  of  view  that  we  may,  following 
Ferenczi,  call  the  penis  the  wish-object  or  ego-ideal  of  the 
body  and  the  seminal  fluid  a  still  more  "ideal"  representative 
of  the  same  tendency.  The  fundamental  dread  of  primitive 
man,  therefore,  seems  to  be  the  dread  of  castration,  or,  what 
amounts  to  the  same  thing  from  the  unconscious  point  of 
view,  the  dreaded  expenditure  of  the  semen. 

It  is  very  probable  that  the  peculiar  Australian  punish- 
ment for  breaking  certain  taboos,  the  abnormal  swelling 
of  the  genitalia,  is  only  a  cover  for  the  opposite  dread 


RELIGION  68l 

(castration)  and  that  those  who  are  castrating  their  enemy 
in  the  Kakadu  ceremony  dread  the  talion  punishment  of 
their  nefarious  wishes. 

The  Kai,  in  New  Guinea,  have  this  phobia  in  a  very 
prominent  degree.  They  believe  that  anything  done  to  their 
"soul-substance"  is  done  to  their  whole  person.  As  the 
"soul-substance"  is  believed  to  be  present  in  every  particle 
of  his  body,  and  in  anything  that  may  come  into  contact 
with  his  body,  a  member  of  these  tribes  is  in  perpetual 
danger  of  being  killed  by  means  of  any  careless  deed  of 
his  own.  Hence  the  great  anxiety  in  the  behavior  of  these 
tribes.  If  a  thread  of  his  girdle  or  a  lock  of  his  hair  gets 
entangled  in  the  bush  and  torn  off,  he  does  not  pass  on 
before  having  annihilated  every  trace  of  its  presence.  He 
does  not  throw  anything  away,  and  the  leavings  of  his 
meals  he  carefully  hides  or  throws  into  the  fire.  Soul-sub* 
stance  also  remains  where  he  sat;  therefore,  when  he  rises 
he  makes  it  disappear  by  stamping  with  his  leg  or  poking 
the  place  with  a  stick.  Or  he  may  sprinkle  water  on  the 
place,  or  use  "cool"  leaves  to  cool  it  down,  i.e.t  to  drive  the 
soul-substance  away.12  The  black  art  itself  is  called  hajc^ 
/>.,  to  bind.  The  first  thing  is  to  procure  a  gat  a  medium 
containing  the  soul-substance  of  the  victim.  As  the  soul- 
substance  is  contained  in  the  smallest  particle  of  the  body, 
and  in  anything  that  comes  into  contact  with  a  person, 
some  hair,  a  drop  of  perspiration,  the  excrements,  or  any- 
thing else  can  be  used.  But  it  must  be  quite  fresh,  other- 
wise it  is  possible  that  the  soul-substance  has  already 
evaporated.  As  the  chief  thing  seems  to  be  not  to  let  it  cool 
down,  it  is  therefore  quickly  put  into  a  little  tube  of 
bamboo  and  this  is  hidden  under  the  arm-pit.  The  object 
must  not  come  into  contact  with  water  or  fire.  Sharp  or 
pointed  objects  are  also  prohibited  as  they  might  frighten 
the  soul  out  of  the  parcel.  Trees  from  a  "ghost-place"  must 
be  used  for  making  the  parcel.  The  first  bamboo  tube  is 
put  into  a  second,  and  this  again  into  a  third  of  "corre- 
spondingly larger  size.  During  the  preparation  they  sing: 


1)82  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

"Cockatoo,  cockatoo,  come  and  tear  his  body  open,  and 
hack  his  bowels  into  pieces  till  he  dies."  The  spirits  are 
expected  to  come  from  a  mythical  cave  and  take  the  victim's 
soul  with  them  into  the  other  world.  After  various  other 
incantations  the  magician  finishes  with  the  following  spell: 

"Fall  off  and  rot  like  cucumbers. 
X.  wind  himself  in  pain. 

His  arms  and  legs  shall  wind  themselves  in  pain. 
His  whole  body  shall  wind  itself  in  pain. 
His  head  shall  wind  itself  in  pain. 
His  bowels  shall  wind  themselves  in  pain. 
His  genital  organ  shall  wind  itself  in  pain." 

Now  comes  the  application  of  fire  to  the  parcel.  The 
medicine-man  is  identified  with  the  man  whose  soul  is  in 
the  parcel  and  he  strictly  avoids  water  or  anything  that 
has  come  into  contact  with  water.  Water  would  cool  him, 
and  hence  cool  the  soul  he  has  caught.  By  cooling  it,  it 
would  stop  the  "roasting,"  and  hence  the  burning  pain 
the  patient  suffers  from  the  fire  would  be  alleviated.  The 
other  great  taboo  of  our  practitioner  in  the  black  arts  is 
woman,  presumably  for  the  same  reason.  Intercourse  would 
rertainly  cool  him,  by  relieving  him  of  sexual  tension,  and 
it  seems  that  his  tension  is  somehow  identical  with  the 
feverish  state  of  disease.  The  whole  thing  comes  to  an  end 
at  a  village  festival  where  all  the  parcels  are  finally  burnt. 
At  the  moment  when  the  bark  envelope  is  cut  through 
the  little  tubes  fall  to  the  ground,  and  the  magicians  "act" 
the  agony  of  their  victims.18  At  the  King  William  Cape  they 
call  this  "binding  the  soul."  The  chief  thing  is  that  the 
parcel  containing  the  hair  or  nail-parings  should  not  come 
into  contact  with  water.14 

A  Bukaua  lives  in  perpetual  fear  of  these  devices,  and 
it  is  therefore  very  difficult  to  get  the  substance  needed. 
But  they  have  their  cunning  methods.  The  magician  offers 
some  betel-fruit  to  the  intended  victim  in  a  friendly  man- 
ner. Before  doing  so,  however,  he  pinches  a  small  piece 


RELIGION  683 

off  the  fruit  and  this  is  sufficient  for  magic  to  work  on. 
When  they  have  made  the  victim  ill  there  are  two  possi- 
bilities. Either  "he  comes  back  to  himself"  (eng  fyng  tan), 
that  is,  gets  better,  or  the  reverse  takes  place.  What  is  meant 
by  coming  back  to  himself?  The  Bukaua  tell  us  that  a 
slimy  excretion  proceeds  from  people  who  are  dangerously 
ill.  This  slime  is  a  continuous  sticky  sort  of  jelly:  it  hangs 
down  through  the  clefts  of  the  floor  and  sparkles  at  night, 
If  the  victim  gets  better  the  slimy  mass  returns  into  his 
body,  that  is,  "he  comes  to  himself."  But  if  the  "unde- 
finable  mass"  is  torn  off,  loses  connection  with  the  body, 
then  "eng  fyng  tan  torn"  ("he  does  not  come  to  himself1), 
and  the  victim  dies.15 

Among  the  Mafulu  the  use  of  the  inedible  remnants 
of  recently  consumed  vegetable  food  as  a  medium  for  caus- 
ing illness  and  death  is  confined  to  the  case  of  a  victim 
who  has  passed  the  stage  of  very  young  childhood.  A  man 
or  woman  never  carelessly  throws  aside  his  own  food  rem- 
nants of  this  character;  and  his  reason  for  this  is  fear  of 
sorcery.  He  carefully  keeps  them  under  his  control  until 
he  can  take  them  to  a  river,  into  which  he  throws  them, 
after  which  they  are  harmless  as  a  medium  against  him. 
The  fear  concerning  these  remains  is  that  a  sorcerer  will 
use  them  for  a  ceremony  somewhat  similar  to  that  de- 
scribed in  connection  with  the  death  of  a  chief,  but  in  a 
hostile  way.  No  such  precautions  are  taken  with  reference 
to  similar  food  eaten  by  very  young  children. 

Secondly,  there  are  the  discharged  excrements  and  urine. 
This,  for  some  reason,  only  applies  to  the  case  of  an  infant 
or  quite  young  child.  Here  again  it  is  not  possible  to  learn 
the  reason  for  the  limitation;  but  it  is  confirmed  by  the 
fact  that  grown-up  persons  take  no  pains  whatever  to  pre- 
vent the  passing  of  these  things  into  the  possession  of 
other  people,  whereas,  as  regards  little  children,  the  mothers 
or  other  persons  having  charge  of  them  always  take  careful 
precautions.  The  mother  picks  up  her  little  child's  ex- 
crement and  wraps  it  in  a  leaf,  and  then  either  carefully 


THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

hides  it  in  a  hole  in  the  ground,  or  throws  it  into  the 
river,  or  places  it  in  a  little  raised-up,  nest-like  receptacle, 
which  is  sometimes  erected  near  the  house  for  this  pur- 
pose, and  where  also  it  is  regarded  as  being  safe.  As  regards 
the  urine,  she  pours  upon  it,  as  it  lies  on  the  ground  or 
on  the  house  floor  or  platform,  a  little  clean  water,  which 
she  obtains  from  any  handy  source,  or  sometimes  from  a 
little  store  which,  when  away  from  other  water  supply, 
she  often  carries  about  with  her  for  the  purpose.16 

According  to  Romilly  the  hair-cutting  and  the  refuse  of 
a  man's  meals  are  the  chief  objects  for  a  sorcerer  to  work 
on.17  The  Marindanim  call  the  particle  of  the  body  they 
obtain  for  a  sorcery  a  papahi.  Hair,  excrement,  the  remains 
of  food,  may  all  serve  as  a  papahi,  as  they  all  contain  the 
soul-substance  of  their  owner.  If  they  put  this  papahi  into 
a  bamboo  and  then,  throw  the  bamboo  into  a  swamp  the 
person  concerned  will  become  ill,  and  if  the  papahi  is  burnt 
the  victim  will  die.  The  idea  is  that  while  the  patient  is 
f;>eing  tortured  by  the  disease,  it  is  really  the  papahi-nakari 
who  are  playing  with  the  papahi  and  throwing  it  about. 
By  nal(ari  the  Marind  mean  certain  mythical  girls  who> 
according  to  their  ideas,  are  connected  with  nearly  every- 
thing in  nature.18 

In  reconsidering  this  small  collection  of  facts  from  New 
Guinea,  the  point  we  must  lay  stress  on  seems  first  to  be 
that  the  body  particle  operated  on  seems  to  be  identified 
with  the  soul.  True,  this  was  the  case  among  the  mos: 
northern  of  the  Australian  tribes  we  took  into  consideration, 
the  Kakadu,  but  it  was  certainly  not  so  prominent  in  Aus- 
tralia as  in  New  Guinea.  What  the  soul  really  is  seem^ 
evident  enough  if  we  consider  the  belief  of  the  Bukaua 
that  a  slimy  jelly  proceeds  from  the  patient  and  when  it 
falls  off,  he  dies.  The  jelly  is, the  seminal  fluid  and  its  loss 
in  the  act  of  cohabitation  seems  to  be  an  experience  fraught 
with  such  anxiety  that  the  idea  of  death  is  modeled  on  it. 
If  this  explanation  is  valid,  we  can  also  understand  why 
the  spell  of  the  Kai  lead  up  to  the  pains  in  the  genitalia 


RELIGION  685 

*!.,  lo  a  sort  of  climax,  the  other  pains  serving  merely  as 
an  introduction  to  this  one.  Water  being  a  very  frequent 
symbol  of  woman,  the  two  taboos  of  our  sorcerer  seem 
to  mean  the  same  thing;  and  as  he  identifies  himself  with 
his  victim  who  is  to  be  castrated,  it  is  both  easy  to  see  why 
woman  should  be  taboo  to  him  and  why  with  the  Marind 
the  disease  arises  from  the  circumstance  that  mythical 
females  are  trifling  with  the  tiny  part  that  has  been  segre- 
gated from  the  whole. 

In  Melanesia  the  wizards  who  cure  the  diseases  are  very 
often  the  same  men  who  cause  them,  the  mana  derived 
from  spirits  and  ghosts  being  in  both  cases  the  agent  em- 
ployed; but  it  often  happens  that  the  darker  secrets  of 
the  magic  art  are  possessed  and  practiced  only  by  those 
whose  power  lies  in  doing  harm,  and  who  are  resorted 
to  when  it  is  desired  to  bring  evil  upon  an  enemy.  Their 
secrets,  like  others  connected  with  mana,  are  passed  down 
from  one  generation  to  another,  and  may  be  bought.  The. 
most  common  working  of  this  malignant  witchcraft  is 
that,  so  common  among  savages,  in  which  a  fragment 
of  food,  bit  of  hair  or  nail,  or  anything  closely  connected 
with  the  person  to  be  injured,  is  the  medium  through 
which  the  power  of  the  ghost  or  spirit  is  brought  to  bear. 
Some  relic  such  as  a  bone  of  the  dead  person  whose  ghost 
is  set  to  work  is,  if  not  necessary,  very  desirable  for  bring- 
ing his  power  into  the  charm;  and  a  stone  may  have  its 
mana  for  doing  mischief.  What  is  needed  is  the  bringing 
together  of  the  man  who  is  to  be  injured  and  the  spirit  of 
the  ghost  that  is  to  injure  him;  this  can  be  done  when 
something  which  pertains  to  the  man's  person  can  b< 
used,  such  as  a  hair,  a  nail,,  a  leaf  with  which  he  has  wiped 
the  perspiration  from  his  face,  and  with  equal  effect  when 
a  fragment  of  the  food  which  has  passed  into  the  maf; 
forms  the  link  of  union.  Hence  in  Florida  when  a  scrap 
from  a  man's  meal  could  be  secreted  and  thrown  into 
the  vunuha  haunted  by  the  tindalo  ghost,  the  man  would 
certainly  be  ill;  and  in  the  New  Hebrides,  when  the  male 


686  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

snake  carried  away  a  fragment  of  food  into  the  place  sacred 
to  spirits,  the  man  who  had  eaten  of  the  food  would  sicken 
as  the  fragment  decayed.  It  was  for  this  reason  that  a 
constant  care  was  exercised  to  prevent  anything  that  might 
be  used  in  witchcraft  from  falling  into  the  hands  of  ill- 
wishers;  it  was  the  regular  practice  to  hide  hair  and  nail- 
parings  and  to  give  the  remains  of  food  most  carefully 
to  the  pigs.  There  is  little  doubt  that  the  common  practice 
of  retiring  into  the  sea  or  a  river  has  its  origin  in  the  belief 
that  water  is  a  bar  to  the  use  of  excrement  in  charms.  It 
is  remarkable  that  at  Mota  where  clefts  in  rocks  are  used 
(no  doubt  also  for  security)  the  word  used  is  tas,  which 
means  sea.  In  the  Banks*  Islands  the  fragment  of  food,  or 
whatever  it  may  be,  by  which  a  man  is  charmed  is  called 
garata;  this  is  made  up  by  the  wizard  with  a  bit  of  human 
bone,  and  smeared  with  a  magic  decoction  in  which  it 
would  rot  away.  Or  the  garata  would  be  burnt,  and  while 
it  was  burning  the  wizard  sang  his  charm;  as  the  garata 
was  consumed,  the  wizard  burning  it  by  degrees  day  after 
day,  the  man  from  whom  it  came  sickened,  and  would 
die,  and  the  ghost  of  the  man  whose  bone  was  burning 
would  take  away  his  life.  In  Aurora  the  fragment  of  food 
is  made  up  with  certain  leaves;  as  these  rot  and  stink 
the  man  dies.  In  Lepers'  Island  the  garata  is  boiled  to- 
gether with  certain  magical  substances  in  a  clam  shell  with 
charms  which  call  on  Tagaro.  It  is  evident  that  no  one 
who  intends  to  bring  mischief  to  a  man  by  means  of  a 
fragment  of  his  food  will  partake  of  that  food  himself, 
because  by  doing  so  he  would  bring  the  mischief  on  him- 
self also.  Hence  a  native  offering  even  a  single  banana  to 
a  visitor  will  bite  the  end  of  it  before  he  gives  it,  and  a 
European  giving  medicine  to  a  sick  native  gives  confidence 
by  himself  taking  a  little  first.10 

It  is  interesting  to  note  the  ambivalency  underlying 
these  customs,  for,  whereas  in  New  Guinea  this  pinching 
off  is  a  dark  practice  of  the  magician,  in  fact,  castration 
itself,  here  it  occurs  as  the  indication  of  a  sort  of  covenant 


RELIGION  687 

between  the  two  parties.  On  the  Gazelle  Peninsula  black 
magic  will  only  take  effect  if  the  medium  contains  a  particle 
of  the  intended  victim;  for  instance,  his  hair,  a  shred  of 
his  clothes,  his  saliva  or  footprints.20  The  central  tribe  of 
New  Ireland  call  this  method  mumiit.  Here  the  magician 
makes  two  little  parcels;  one  of  them  he  puts  near  the  fire 
and  the  other  he  dangles  over  a  swamp  by  means  of  a  rod 
and  a  string.  Now  he  goes  to  the  swamp,  and  lo  there  the 
poor  soul  is  sitting  staring  into  the  water;  now  to  the  fire, 
there  again  he  sees  the  soul  warming  itself.21 

At  Limbo,  Vellalavella,  and  Rubiana  all  personal  refuse 
is  usually  burnt  from  fear  of  wizards.  Their  method  here 
is  to  make  a  parcel  of  leaves  and  dig  the  object  into  the 
earth.  Then  they  tread  on  it  and  put  three  hot  stones  above 
— this  kills  the  victim.22 

In  Fiji  if  a  man  desired  the  death  of  a  rival  he  procured 
something  that  had  belonged  to  this  person — a  lock  of 
hair,  the  parings  of  his  nails,  a  scrap  of  food,  or,  best  of 
all,  his  excreta,  for  witchcraft  produced  incurable  dysentery 
through  these.  The  wizard  then  prepared  the  charm  by 
wrapping  the  object  in  certain  leaves  of  magical  properties 
and  burying  the  parcel  in  a  bamboo  case  either  in  the 
victim's  plantation  or  in  the  thatch  of  his  house.23  A  man 
will  take  the  remains  of  the  food,  clothing  or  tobacco 
left  by  his  enemy.  With  these  he  mixes  certain  leaves  and 
slugs  from  the  sea.  He  carries  the  mixture  into  the  woods, 
puts  it  in  empty  coconuts,  pieces  of  bamboo,  or  native 
jars.  Then  he  buries  the  vessel  and  believes  that  his  enemy 
sickens  as  the  mixture  ferments.24 

One  mode  of  operating  is  to  bury  a  coconut,  with  the  eye 
upward,  beneath  the  temple-hearth,  on  which  a  fire  is  kep'.' 
constantly  burning;  and  as  the  life  of  the  nut  is  destroyed 
so  the  health  of  the  person  it  represents  will  fail,  till  death 
ensues.  At  Matuku  there  is  a  grove  sacred  to  the  god 
Tokalau — the  wind.  The  priest  promises  the  destruction 
of  any  hated  person  in  four  days  if  those  who  wish  his 
death  bring  a  portion  of  his  hair,  dress,  or  food  which  be 


688  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

has  left.  This  priest  keeps  a  fire  burning,  and  approaches 
the  place  on  his  hands  and  knees.  If  the  victim  bathe  before 
the  fourth  day,  the  spell  is  broken.  The  most  common 
method,  however,  is  the  Vaf^adrani^au,  or  compounding 
of  certain  leaves  supposed  to  possess  a  magical  power,  and 
which  are  wrapped  in  other  leaves,  or  put  into  a  small 
bamboo  case,  and  buried  in  the  garden  of  the  person  to 
be  bewitched,  or  hidden  in  the  thatch  of  his  house.  Proc- 
esses of  this  kind  are  the  most  dreaded,  and  the  people 
about  Mbua  are  reputed  to  prepare  the  most  potent  com- 
pounds. The  native  imagination  is  so  absolutely  under  the 
control  of  fear  of  these  charms  that  persons,  hearing  that 
they  were  the  objects  of  such  spells,  have  lain  down  on 
their  mats  and  died  through  fear. 

Those  who  have  reason  to  suspect  others  of  plotting 
against  them  avoid  eating  in  their  presence,  or  are  careful 
to  leave  no  fragment  of  food  behind;  they  also  dispose 
their  garment  so  that  no  part  can  be  removed.  Most  natives, 
on  cutting  their  hair,  hide  what  is  cut  off  in  the  thatch  of 
their  homes.  Some  build  themselves  a  small  house  and 
surround  it  with  a  moat,  believing  that  a  little  water  will 
neutralize  the  charms  which  are  directed  against  them.25 

We  have  hitherto  found  reason  to  assume  that  the  one 
great  terror  in  the  life  of  primitive  mankind  is  the  same 
that  plays  such  a  fundamental  part  in  individual  neurosis: 
the  dread  of  castration.  This  complex  rooted  in  the  re- 
sistance offered  by  the  narcissistic  libido  of  the  cell  to 
fission  as  the  fundamental  feature  of  archaic  life  is  never 
absent  in  coitus  where  there  is  always  a  reluctance  of  the 
male  towards  the  expenditure  of  semen.  The  ideas  of  primi- 
tive man  on  death  are  modeled  by  the  pleasure  principle, 
being  based  on  the  unconscious  view  of  coitus.  The  soul 
separated  from  the  body  is  either  the  seminal  fluid  ejacu- 
lated in  the  act,  or  what  amounts  to  the  same  thing,  the 
phallus  cut  off.  This  interpretation  of  the  soul  is  fully 
borne  out  by  experience  derived  from  the  study  of  psychotic 
and  neurotic  patients.  Dr.  Almasy  tells  me  of  a  case  of  shell- 


RELIGION  689 

shock  treated  by  him  in  a  lunatic  asylum.  The  soldier  was 
a  Hungarian  lad  from  Transylvania.  He  declared  in  the 
asylum  that  the  shell  in  question  had  robbed  him  of  his 
"double,"  and  added  that  the  "double"  was  the  Szekely2' 
word  for  the  penis.  A  patient  of  mine  (character  analysis, 
ejaculatio  prcecox  in  a  moderate  degree)  has  the  phantasy 
that  the  analyst's  easy  chairs  are  transformed  at  night-fall 
into  stallions  and  on  these  stallions  the  analysts  fly  through 
the  air  and  appear  as  nightmares  in  the  patients'  dreams. 
The  couch  on  which  he  lies  is  not  a  stallion  but  a  hippo- 
potamus (called  water-horse  in  Hungarian),  and  it  goes 
and  wallows  in  the  mud  at  night.  What  a  fine  thing  it 
would  be  to  have  a  penis  as  big  as  a  hippopotamus;  he 
could  go  and  knock  the  policeman  down  with  such  a  club. 
At  night  his  penis  would  leave  his  body,  assume  the  shape 
of  a  hippopotamus  and  roam  about.  It  is  hardly  necessary 
to  tell  the  anthropologist  that  we  here  have  the  explana- 
tion of  the  savage  dream-soul  leaving  the  body  at  night 
and  roaming  in  search  of  desirable  things.  "King  Gunthram 
lay  in  the  wood  asleep  with  his  head  in  his  faithful  hench- 
man's lap;  the  servant  saw  as  it  were  a  snake  issue  from 
his  lord's  mouth  and  run  to  the  brook,  but  it  could  not 
pass,  so  the  servant  laid  his  sword  across  the  water  and 
the  creature  ran  along  it  and  up  into  a  mountain,  after  a 
while  came  back  and  returned  into  the  mouth  of  the  sleep- 
ing king,  who  waking  told  him  how  he  went  over  an 
iron  bridge  into  a  mountain  full  of  gold."27  King  Gun- 
thram's  serpent  and  the  penis-hippopotamus  of  my  patient 
mean  one  and  the  same  thing. 

From  the 'starting-point  the  work  of  repression  sets  in. 
The  first  consolation  offered  to  mortal  man  is  the  same 
as  the  temptation  of  coitus;  the  valuable  part  of  his  per- 
sonality is  not  lost  but  given  into  the  custody  of  a  being 
with  whom  he  has  successfully  identified  himself  in  the 
sexual  act.  There  is  another  world  for  the  soul  after  this 
one  and  this  other  world  is  simply  a  posthumous  projeo 
tion  of  the  womb.  The  passage  itself  is  the  passage  of  the 


690  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

penis  or  the  sperm  into  the  vagina.  While  at  a  lower  level 
the  castration  aspect  of  this  passage  is  emphasized,  the  grim 
features  of  this  last  journey  gradually  become  obscured  by 
the  brilliant  vision  of  everlasting  love-fire.  But  just  as  we 
know  full  well  that  the  gods,  the  "Living  Ones"  of  Irish 
and  other  mythologies,  are  really  the  dead,  we  can  have 
no  doubt  of  the  nature  of  the  wound  that  lies  behind  the 
phantasy  of  an  Isle  of  Women. 

As,  moreover,  the  sexual  act  is  the  portal  of  life,  and 
as  the  act  of  giving  birth  is  the  female  equivalent  of  the 
fission  that  takes  place  in  the  male  in  the  act  of  coitus, 
death  becomes  obscured  under  the  guise  of  birth  and  ap- 
pears as  the  first  step  into  a  new  life.  In  this  concept,  which 
it  is  so  easy  to  find  in  the  phantasies  and  dreams  of  indi- 
vidual neurotics,  the  secondary  elaboration  due  to  the  tend- 
ency to  obscure  the  impending  danger  probably  reached 
its  highest  pilch.  If  we  return  for  a  moment  to  the  story 
of  Little  Dog  our  attention  is  attracted  by  the  series  formed 
of  three  episodes;  first  Little  Dog's  whole  body  in  the 
giant  moose  and  his  exit  from  that  animal,  then  his  being 
in  a  house  inhabited  by  a  woman  (magic  staff  holds  the 
•door  ajar — finger  chopped  off)  and  at  last  his  overcom- 
ing the  danger  of  castration  by  the  magic  staff  in  actual 
coitus.  The  scries  represents  a  gradual  retransformation  of 
the  myth  towards  the  true  situation.  In  the  first  episode 
the  danger  of  fission  (castration)  is  completely  overlaid 
by  the  aid  of  another  phantasy,  this  time  formed  on  the 
basis  of  the  pre-natal  situation  and  of  birth  itself,  by  means 
of  the  idea  of  evading  coitus  by  returning  not  with  a  part 
but  with  the  whole  body  into  the  maternal  womb.  There- 
fore, if  the  recent  experiences  of  Dr.  Ferenczi  and  other 
analysts  show  that  the  ideas  of  birth  and  uterine  regression 
appear  in  analysis  as  a  consolation  to  overlay  the  dread 
of  castration,  we  can  say  that  in  the  history  of  mankind 
the  function  of  animism  offers  a  distinct  parallel  to  these 
tendencies.  The  solace  found  by  the  pious  in  the  visions 
of  a  happy  heaven  is  of  the  same  type  as  that  sought  by 


RELIGION  691 

the  neurotic  in  the  various  symptoms  that  correspond  to 
uterine  regression. 

King  Arthur  feels  his  end  drawing  near.  He  first  com- 
mands his  sword  Excalibur  to  be  cast  back  into  the  lake 
whence  it  came.  We  believe  that  this  sword  is  fundamentally 
identical  with  the  sword  of  the  Grail  romances,  the  mean- 
ing of  which  has  been  described  in  the  language  of  "Life- 
Symbolism"  by  Miss  Jessie  Weston.28 

Like  the  supernatural  branch,  the  silver  bough,  it  belongs 
to  the  king  as  long  as  he  lives  and  returns  to  its  origin  at 
his  death/29  First  this  phallic  symbol  disappears  into  the 
lake,  then  Queen  Morgan  le  Fay  appears  on  the  scene  with 
her  fairies  in  a  barge  to  take  her  beloved  hero  and  brother 
to  her  realm.  And  thus  spake  Sir  Arthur: 

"I  am  going  a  long  way. . . . 

To  the  island-valley  of  Avilion 
Where  falls  not  hail,  or  rain,  or  any  snow, 
Nor  ever  wind  blows  loudly;  but  it  lies 
Deep-meadowed,  happy,  fair  with  orchard  lawns 
And  bowery  hollows  crown'd  with  summer  sea, 
Where  I  will  heal  me  of  my  grievous  wound."  30 

However  fair  the  fairy  queen  may  be,  mortal  man  car, 
scarce  forget  the  wound. 

NOTES 

1  R.  H.  Mathcws,  Ethnological  Notes  on  the  Aboriginal  Tubes  of  New 
South  Wales  and  Victoria,  1905. 

2  W.  E.  Roth,  "Superstition,  Magic,  and  Medicine,"  North  Queensland 
Ethnogtaphy,  Bull.  5,  1920,  pp.  31,  32. 

8  J.  Mathcws,  Eaglchawl^  and  Crow,  1899,  p.  144.  Idem.,  Two  Repre- 
sentative Tiibcs  of  Queensland,  1910,  p.  177. 

*  Taplin,  The  Nantnyeri  Tribe,  1879,  p.  24. 
8  Frazer,  The  Mugic  Ait,  1911,  i,  §  3. 

*  Spencer  and  Gillcn,  Native  Ttibes,  p.  553. 

7  Cf.  Rohcim,  Australian  Totemism,  1925,  pp.  313,  184. 

8  Curse  directed  against  the  mother. 

9  B.  Spencer,  Native  Tribes  of  the  Northern  Territory  of  Australia,  1914. 
pp.  259,  260. 

10  Cf.  Rohcim,  "The  Significance  of  Stepping  Over,"  International  Jour- 


692  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

nal  of  Psychoanalysis,  iii,  p.  370.  See  also  on  the  churinga,  Australian 
Totemism,  1925,  p.  183. 

11  Ferenczi,  Gemtalthcorie ,  1923. 

12Ch.  Keysser,  Aus  dcm  Leben  der  Kaileute,  Neuhauss,  Deutsch  Nfu 
Guinea,  iii,  p.  117. 

13  Keysser,  he.  tit.,  pp.  135-138. 

14  Stolz,  Die  Umgebung  von  Kap  Konig  Wilhclm,  p.  248. 

15  St.  Lehner,  Bul^aua.  Neuhauss,  loc.  at.,  hi,  p.  464. 

10  Williamson,  The  Mafulu,  Mountain  People  of  British  New  Guinea, 
1912,  pp.  280-281. 

17  H.  H.  Romilly,  Ftom  My  Verandah  in  New  Guinea,  1889,  p.  83. 

18  P.  Wirz,  Die  Mannd-anim  von  Hollandtsch-Sud-Neu-Guinca  (Ham- 
Wrgische  Universitat,  1925,  pp.  72-73. 

19  R.  H.  Codrington,  The  Melanesians,  1891,  pp.  202-204. 

20  Parkinson,  Dretssig  Jahre  in  der  Sttdsee,  1907,  p.  118. 

21  Parkinson,  loc.  cit.,  p.  192. 

22  R.  Thurnwald,  Forschungen  auf  den  Salomo  Inseln  und  dem  Bis- 
marck  Archipel,  i,  pp.  443-444. 

23  B.  Thomson,  The  Fijians,  1908,  p.  164. 

24  W.  Deane,  Ft/tan  Society,  1921,  p.  162. 

25  B.  C.  A.  I.  van  Dinter,   "Eemge  geographischc  en  ethnographische 
aantee  keningen  betreffende  het  eiland  Siaoc,"   Tijdschrift  voor  Indische 
Taal,  Land-  en  Vol^enf(unde,  xli,  1899,  p.  381.  Frazer,  Totem  and  Taboo, 
p.  228. 

26  Hungarian  dialect  in  Transylvania. 

27  E.  B.  Tylor,  Primitive  Culture,  i,  p.  442,  quoting  Grimm,  DM.  1036. 

28  J.  L.  Weston,  The  Quest  of  the  Holy  Grail,  1913.  Idem.,  From  Ritual 
TO  Romance,  1920. 

29  A   B.  Cook,  "The  European  Sky  God,"  Folk-Lore,  xvii,  1906,  p.  152. 
80  Tennyson,  Morte  d' Arthur.  Malory,  I*e  Morte  d* Arthur,  bk.  xxi,  ch.  v 


MAGIC  AND  RELIGION* 

By  SIR  JAMES  FRAZER 

WHEREVER  sympathetic  magic  occurs  in  its  pure  unadul- 
terated form,  it  assumes  that  in  nature  one  ever  follows 
another  necessarily  and  invariably  without  the  interven- 
tion of  any  spiritual  or  personal  agency.  Thus  its  funda- 
mental conception  is  identical  with  that  of  modern  sci- 
ence; underlying  the  whole  system  is  a  faith,  implicit  but 
real  and  firm,  in  the  order  and  uniformity  of  nature.  The 
magician  does  not  doubt  that  the  same  causes  will  always 
produce  the  same  effects,  that  the  performance  of  the  proper 
ceremony,  accompanied  by  the  appropriate  spell,  will  in- 
evitably  be  attended  by  the  desired  results,  unless  indeed, 
his  incantations  should  chance  to  be  thwarted  and  foiled 
by  the  more  potent  charms  of  another  sorcerer.  He  suppli- 
cates no  higher  power;  he  sues  the  favor  of  no  fickle  and 
wayward  being;  he  abases  himself  before  no  lawful  deity. 
Yet  his  power,  great  as  he  believes  it  to  be,  is  by  no  means 
arbitrary  and  unlimited.  He  can  wield  it  only  so  long  as 
he  strictly  conforms  to  the  rules  of  his  art,  or  to  what  may 
be  called  the  laws  of  nature  as  conceived  by  him.  To  neglect 
these  rules,  to  break  these  laws  in  the  smallest  particular 
is  to  incur  failure,  and  may  even  expose  the  unskillful 
practitioner  himself  to  the  utmost  peril.  If  he  claims  a 
sovereignty  over  nature,  it  is  a  constitutional  sovereignty 
rigorously  limited  in  its  scope  and  exercised  in  exact  con- 
formity with  ancient  usage.  Thus  the  analogy  between  the 
magical  and  the  scientific  conceptions  of  the  world  is  close. 
In  both  of  them  the  succession  of  events  is  perfectly  regular 
and  certain,  being  determined  by  immutable  laws,  the  op- 
eration of  which  can  be  foreseen  and  calculated  precisely; 

*Tfa  Golden  Bough.    New  York:  The  Macmillan  Co. 

693 


694  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

the  elements  of  caprice,  of  chance,  and  of  accident  are  ban- 
ished from  the  course  of  nature.  Both  of  them  open  up 
a  seemingly  boundless  vista  of  possibilities  to  him  who 
knows  the  causes  of  things  and  can  touch  the  secret  springs 
that  set  in  motion  the  vast  and  intricate  mechanism  of 
the  world.  Hence  the  strong  attraction  which  magic  and 
science  alike  have  exercised  on  the  human  mind;  hence 
the  powerful  stimulus  that  both  have  given  to  the  pursuit 
of  knowledge.  They  lure  the  weary  inquirer,  the  footsore 
seeker,  on  through  the  wilderness  of  disappointment  in  the 
present  by  their  endless  promises  of  the  future;  they  take 
him  up  to  the  top  of  an  exceeding  high  mountain  and 
show  him,  beyond  (he  dark  clouds  and  rolling  mists  at 
his  feet,  a  vision  of  the  celestial  city,  far  off,  it  may  be,  but 
radiant  with  unearthly  splendor,  bathed  in  the  light  of 
dreams. 

The  fatal  flaw  of  magic  lies  not  in  its  general  assumption 
of  a  succession  of  events  determined  by  law,  but  in  its  total 
misconception  of  the  nature  of  the  particular  laws  which 
govern  that  succession.  If  we  analyze  the  various  cases  of 
sympathetic  magic  which  have  been  passed  in  review  in  the 
preceding  pages,  and  which  may  be  taken  as  fair  samples 
of  the  bulk,  we  shall  find  them  to  be  all  mistaken  appli- 
cations of  one  or  other  of  two  great  fundamental  laws  of 
thought,  namely,  the  association  of  ideas  by  similarity  and 
the  association  of  ideas  by  contiguity  in  space  or  time.  A 
mistaken  association  of  similar  ideas  produces  imitative 
or  mimetic  magic;  a  mistaken  association  of  contiguous 
ideas  produces  sympathetic  magic  in  the  narrower  sense 
of  the  word.  The  principles  of  association  are  excellent 
in  themselves,  and  indeed  absolutely  essential  to  the  work- 
ing of  the  human  mind.  Legitimately  applied  they  yield 
science;  illegitimately  applied  they  yield  magic,  the  bastard 
sister  of  science.  It  is  therefore  a  truism,  almost  a  tautology, 
to  say  that  all  magic  is  necessarily  false  and  barren;  for 
were  it  ever  to  become  true  and  fruitful,  it  would  no 
longer  be  magic  but  science.  From  the  earliest  times  man 


RELIGION  695 

has  been  engaged  in  a  search  for  general  rules  whereby 
to  turn  the  order  of  natural  phenomena  to  his  own  advan- 
tage, and  in  the  long  search  he  has  scraped  together  a  great 
hoard  of  such  maxims,  some  of  them  golden  and  some  of 
them  mere  dross.  The  true  or  golden  rules  constitute  the, 
body  of  applied  science  which  we  call  the  arts;  the  false, 
are  magic. 

If  magic  is  thus  next  of  kin  to  science,  we  have  still  to 
inquire  how  it  stands  related  to  religion.  But  the  view 
we  take  of  that  relation  will  necessarily  be  colored  by  the 
idea  which  we  have  formed  of  the  nature  of  religion  itself; 
hence  a  writer  may  reasonably  be  expected  to  define  his 
conception  of  religion  before  he  proceeds  to  investigate 
its  relation  to  magic.  There  is  probably  no  subject  in  the 
world  about  which  opinions  differ  so  much  as  the  nature 
of  religion,  and  to  frame  a  definition  of  it  which  would 
satisfy  every  one  must  obviously  be  impossible.  All  that  a 
writer  can  do  is,  first,  to  say  clearly  what  he  means  by 
religion,  and  afterwards  to  employ  the  word  consistently 
in  that  sense  throughout  his  work.  By  religion,  then,  I  under- 
stand a  propitiation  or  conciliation  of  powers  superior  to 
man  which  are  believed  to  direct  and  control  the  course  of 
nature  and  of  human  life.  In  this  sense  it  will  readily  be 
perceived  that  religion  is  opposed  in  principle  both  to  magic 
and  to  science.  For  all  conciliation  implies  that  the  being 
conciliated  is  a  conscious  or  personal  agent,  that  his  con- 
duct is  in  some  measure  uncertain,  and  that  he  can  be 
prevailed  upon  to  vary  it  in  the  desired  direction  by  a 
judicious  appeal  to  his  interests,  his  appetites,  or  his  emo- 
tions. Conciliation  is  never  employed  towards  things  which 
are  regarded  as  inanimate,  nor  towards  persons  whose 
behavior  in  the  particular  circumstances  is  known  to  be 
determined  with  absolute  certainty.  Thus  in  so  far  as 
religion  assumes  the  world  to  be  directed  by  conscious 
agents  who  may  be  turned  from  their  purpose  by  .persua- 
sion, it  stands  in  fundamental  antagonism  to  magic  as 
well  as  to  science,  both  of  which  take  for  granted  that 


696  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

the  course  of  nature  is  determined,  not  by  the  passions  or 
caprice  of  personal  beings,  but  by  the  operation  of  im- 
mutable laws  acting  mechanically.  In  magic,  indeed,  the 
assumption  is  only  implicit,  but  in  science  it  is  explicit, 
It  is  true  that  magic  often  deals  with  spirits,  which  are 
personal  agents  of  the  kind  assumed  by   religion;   but 
whenever  it  does  so  in  its  proper  form,  it  treats  them 
exactly  in  the  same  fashion  as  it  treats  inanimate  agents — 
that  is,  it  constrains  or  coerces  instead  of  conciliating  or 
propitiating  them  as  religion  would  do.  In  ancient  Egypt, 
for  example,  the  magicians  claimed  the  power  of  com- 
pelling even  the  highest  gods  to  do  their  bidding,  and 
actually  threatened  them  with  destruction  in  case  of  dis- 
obedience. Similarly  in  India  at  the  present  day  the  great 
Hindoo   trinity   itself   of  Brahma,  Vishnu,   and   Siva   is 
subject  to  the  sorcerers,  who,  by  means  of  their  spells, 
exercise  such  an  ascendency  over  the  mightiest  deities,  that 
these  are  bound  submissively  to  execute  on  earth  below, 
or  in  heaven  above,  whatever  commands  their  masters  the 
magicians  may   please  to  issue.  This  radical  conflict  of 
principle  between  magic  and  religion  sufficiently  explains 
the  relentless  hostility  with  which  in  history  the  priest  has 
often  pursued  the  magician.  The  haughty  self-sufficiency 
of  the  magician,  his  arrogant  demeanor  towards  the  higher 
powers,  and  his  unabashed  claim  to  exercise  a  sway  like 
theirs  could  not  but  revolt  the  priest,  to  whom,  with  his 
awful  sense  of  the  divine  majesty,  and  his  humble  prostra- 
tion in  presence  of  it,  such  claims  and  such  a  demeanor  must 
have  appeared  an  impious  and  blasphemous  usurpation  of 
prerogatives  that  belong  to  God  alone.  And  sometimes,  we 
may  suspect,  lower  motives  concurred  to  whet  the  edge 
of  the  priest's  hostility.  He  professed  to  be  the  proper 
medium,  the  true  intercessor  between  God  and  man,  and 
no  doubt  his  interests  as  well  as  his  feelings  were  often 
injured  by  a  rival  practitioner,  who  preached  a  surer  and 
smoother  road  to  fortune  than  the  rugged  and  slippery  path 
of  divine  favor. 


RELIGION  697" 

Yet  this  antagonism,  familiar  as  it  is  to  us,  seems  to 
have  made  its  appearance  comparatively  late  in  the  history 
of  religion.  At  an  earlier  stage  the  functions  of  priest  and 
sorcerer  were  often  combined  or,  to  speak  perhaps  more 
correctly,  were  not  yet  differentiated  from  each  other.  To 
serve  his  purpose  man  wooed  the  good-will  of  gods  or 
spirits  by  prayer  and  sacrifice,  while  at  the  same  time  he 
had  recourse  to  ceremonies  and  forms  of  words  which  he 
hoped  would  of  themselves  bring  about  the  desired  result 
without  the  help  of  god  or  devil.  In  short,  he  performed 
religious  and  magical  rites  simultaneously;  he  uttered 
prayers  and  incantations  almost  in  the  same  breath,  know- 
ing or  reckoning  little  of  the  theoretical  inconsistency  of 
his  behavior,  so  long  as  by  hook  or  crook  he  contrived 
to  get  what  he  wanted.  Instances  of  this  fusion  or  con* 
fusion  of  magic  with  religion  have  already  met  us  in  the 
practices  of  Melanesians  and  of  some  East  Indian  islanders. 
So  far  as  the  Melanesians  are  concerned,  the  general  con- 
fusion cannot  be  better  described  than  in  the  words  of 
Dr.  R.  H.  Codrington:  "That  invisible  power  which  is 
believed  by  the  natives  to  cause  all  such  effects  as  transcend 
their  conception  of  the  regular  course  of  nature,  and  to 
reside  in  spiritual  beings,  whether  in  the  spiritual  part 
of  living  men  or  in  the  ghosts  of  the  dead,  being  imparted 
by  them  to  their  names  and  to.  various  things  that  belong 
to  them,  such  as  stones,  snakes,  and  indeed  objects  of  all 
sorts,  is  that  generally  known  as  mana.  Without  some  un- 
derstanding of  this  it  is  impossible  to  understand  the  re- 
ligious beliefs  and  practices  of  the  Melanesians;  and  this 
again  is  the  active  force  in  all  they  do  and  believe  to  be 
done  in  magic,  white  or  black.  By  means  of  this  men  are 
able  to  control  or  direct  the  forces  of  nature,  to  make  rain 
or  sunshine,  wind  or  calm,  to  cause  sickness  or  remove  it, 
to  know  what  is  far  off  in  time  and  space,  to  bring  good 
luck  and  prosperity,  or  to  blast  and  curse."  "By  whatever 
name  it  is  called,  it  is  the  belief  in  this  supernatural  power, 
and  in  the  efficacy jof  the  various  means  by  which  spiriti 


698  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

and  ghosts  can  be  induced  to  exercise  it  for  the  benefit  of 
men,  that  is  the  foundation  of  the  rites  and  practices  which 
can  be  called  religious;  and  it  is  from  the  same  belief 
that  everything  which  may  be  called  Magic  and  Witch- 
craft draws  its  origin.  Wizards,  doctors,  weather-mongers, 
prophets,  diviners,  dreamers,  all  alike,  everywhere  in  the 
islands,  work  by  this  power.  There  are  many  of  these  who 
may  be  said  to  exercise  their  art  as  a  profession;  they 
get  their  property  and  influence  in  this  way.  Every  con- 
siderable village  or  settlement  is  sure  to  have  some  one 
who  can  control  the  weather  and  the  waves,  some  one 
who  knows  how  to  treat  sickness,  some  one  who  can  work 
mischief  with  various  charms.  There  may  be  one  whose 
skill  extends  to  all  these  branches;  but  generally  one  man 
knows  how  to  do  one  thing,  and  one  another.  This  various 
knowledge  is  handed  down  from  father  to  son,  from 
uncle  to  sister's  son,  in  the  same  way  as  is  the  knowledge 
of  the  rites  and  methods  of  sacrifice  and  prayer;  and  very 
often  the  same  man  who  knows  the  sacrifice  knows  also 
the  making  of  the  weather,  and  of  charms  for  many  pur- 
poses besides.  But  as  there  is  no  order  of  priests,  there 
is  also  no  order  of  magicians  or  medicine-men.  Almost 
every  man  of  consideration  knows  how  to  approach  some 
ghost  or  spirit,  and  has  some  secret  of  occult  practices." 

The  same  confusion  of  ipagic  and  religion  has  survived 
among  peoples  that  have  risen  to  higher  levels  of  culture.  It 
was  rife  in  ancient  India  and  ancient  Egypt;  it  is  by  no 
means  extinct  among  European  peasantry  at  the  present 
day.  With  regard  to  ancient  India  we  are  told  by  an  eminent 
Sanscrit  scholar  that  "the  sacrificial  ritual  at  the  earliest 
period  of  which  we  have  detailed  information  is  pervaded 
with  practices  that  breathe  the  spirit  of  the  most  primitive 
magic."  Again,  the  same  writer  observes  that  "the  ritual  of 
the  very  sacrifice  for  which  the  metrical  prayers  were  com- 
posed is  described  in  the  other  Vedic  texts  as  saturated  from 
beginning  to  end  with  magical  practices  which  were  to  be 
carried  out  by  the  sacrificial  priests."  In  particular  he  tells 


RELIGION  699 

us  that  the  rites  celebrated  on  special  occasions,  such  as 
marriage,  initiation,  and  the  anointment  of  a  king,  "are 
complete  models  of  magic  of  every  kind,  and  in  every  case 
the  forms  of  magic  employed  bear  the  stamp  of  the  highest 
antiquity."  Speaking  pf  the  importance  of  magic  in  the 
East,  and  especially  in  Egypt,  Professor  Maspero  remarks 
that  "we  ought  not  to  attach  to  the  word  magic  the  degrad- 
ing idea  which  it  almost  inevitably  calls  up  in  the  mind 
of  a  modern.  Ancient  magic  was  the  very  foundation  of 
religion.  The  faithful  who  desired  to  obtain  some  favor 
from  a  god  had  no  chance  of  succeeding  except  by  laying 
hands  on  the  deity,  and  this  arrest  could  only  be  effected  by 
means  of  a  certain  number  of  rites,  sacrifices,  prayers,  and 
chants,  which  the  god  himself  had  revealed,  and  which 
obliged  him  to  do  what  was  demanded  of  him."  According 
to  another  distinguished  Egyptologist  "the  belief  that  there 
are  words  and  actions  by  which  man  can  influence  all  the 
powers  of  nature  and  .all  living  things,  from  animals  up 
to  gods,  was  inextricably  interwoven  with  everything  the 
Egyptians  did  and  everything  they  left  undone.  Above  all, 
the  whole  system  of  burial  and  of  the  worship  of  the  dead  is 
completely  dominated  by  it.  The  wooden  puppets  which 
relieved  the  dead  man  from  toil,  the  figures  of  the  maid- 
servants  who  baked  bread  for  him,  the  sacrificial  formulas 
by  the  recitation  of  which  food  was  procured  for  him, 
what  are  these  and  all  the  similar  practices  but  magic?  And 
as  men  cannot  help  themselves  without  magic,  so  neither 
can  the  gods;  the  gods  also  wear  amulets  to  protect  them- 
selves, and  use  magic  spells  to  constrain  each  other."  But 
though  we  can  perceive  the  union  of  discrepant  elements  in 
the  faith  and  practice  of  the  ancient  Egyptians,  it  would  be 
rash  to  assume  that  the  people  themselves  did  so.  "Egyptian 
religion,"   says  Professor  Widemann,  "was  not  one   and 
homogeneous;  it  was  compounded  of  the  most  hetero- 
geneous elements,  which  seemed  to  the  Egyptian  to  be  all 
equally  justified.  He  did  not  care  whether  a  doctrine  01 
a  myth  belonged  to  what,  in  modern  scholastic  phraseology, 


700  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

we  should  call  faith  or  superstition;  it  was  indifferent  to  him 
whether  we  should  rank  it  as  religion  or  magic,  as  worship 
or  sorcery.  All  such  classifications  were  foreign  to  the 
Egyptian.  To  him  no  one  doctrine  seemed  more  or  less  justi- 
<ied  than  another.  Nay,  he  went  so  far  as  to  allow  the  most 
flagrant  contradictions  to  stand  peace'ably  side  by  side." 

Among  the  ignorant  classes  of  modern  Europe  the  same 
confusion  of  ideas,  the  same  mixture  of  religion  and  magic, 
crops  up  in  various  forms.  Thus  we  are  told  that  in  France 
"the  majority  of  the  peasants  still  believe  that  the  priest  pos- 
sesses a  secret  and  irresistible  power  over  the  elements.  By 
reciting  certain  prayers  which  he  alone  knows  and  has  the 
right  to  utter,  yet  for  the  utterance  of  which  he  must  after- 
wards demand  absolution,  he  can,  on  an  occasion  of  pressing 
danger,  arrest  or  reverse  for  a  moment  the  action  of  the 
eternal  laws  of  the- physical  world.  The  winds,  the  storrm, 
the  hail,  and  the  rain  are  at  his  command  and  obey  his  will. 
The  fire  also  is  subject  to  him,  and  the  flames  of  a  conflagra^ 
tion  are  extinguished  at  his  word.**  For  example,  French 
peasants  used  to  be,  perhaps  are  still,  persuaded  that  the 
priests  could  celebrate,  with  certain  special  rites,  a  "Mass 
of  the  Holy  Spirit,"  of  which  the  efficacy  was  so  miraculous 
that  it  never  met  with  any  opposition  from  the  divine  will; 
God  was  forced  to  grant  whatever  was  asked  of  Him  in  this 
form,  however  rash  and  importunate  might  be  the  petition. 
No  idea  of  impiety  or  irreverence  attached  to  the  rite  in 
the  minds  of  those  who,  in  some  of  the  great  extremities 
of  life,  sought  by  this  singular  means  to  take  the  kingdom 
of  heaven  by  storm.  The  secular  priests  generally  refused  to 
say  the  "Mass  of  the  Holy  Spirit";  but  the  monks,  especially 
rhc  Capuchin  friars,  had  the  reputation  of  yielding  with  less 
scruple  to  the  entreaties  of  the  anxious  and  distressed.  In  the 
constraint  thus  supposed  by  Catholic  peasantry  to  be  laid 
by  the  priest  upon  the  deity  we  seem  to  have  an  exact 
counterpart  of  the  power  which,  as  we  saw,  the  ancient 
Egyptians  ascribed  to  their  magicians.  Again,  to  take  an- 
other example,  in  many  villages  of  Provence  the  priest  is 


RELIGION  701 

still  reputed  to  possess  the  faculty  of  averting  storms.  It  is 
not  every  priest  who  enjoys  this  reputation;  and  in  some 
villages  when  a  change  of  pastors  takes  place,  the  parish- 
ioners  are  eager  to  learn  whether  the  new  incumbent  has 
the  power  (pouder),  as  they  call  it.  At  the  first  sign  of  a 
heavy  storm  they  put  him  to  the  proof  by  inviting  him  to 
exorcise  the  threatening  clouds;  and  if  the  result  answers  to 
their  hopes,  the  new  shepherd  is  assured  of  the  sympathy 
and  respect  of  his  flock.  In  some  parishes,  where  the  reputa- 
tion of  the  curate  in  this  respect  stood  higher  than  that  of 
his  rector,  the  relations  between  the  two  have  been  so 
strained  in  consequence,  that  the  bishop  has  had  to  trans- 
late the  rector  to  another  benefice.  Again,  Gascon  peasants 
believe  that  to  revenge  themselves  on  their  enemies  bad 
men  will  sometimes  induce  a  priest  to  say  a  mass  called  the 
Mass  of  Saint  Secaire.  Very  few  priests  know  this  mass,  and 
three-fourths  of  those  who  do  know  it  would  not  say  it  for 
love  or  money.  None  but  wicked  priests  dare  to  perform  the 
gruesome  ceremony,  and  you  may  be  quite  sure  that  they 
will  have  a  very  heavy  account  to  render  for  it  at  the  last 
day.  No  curate  or  bishop,  not  even  the  archbishop  of  Auch, 
can  pardon  them;  that  right  belongs  to  the  pope  of  Rome 
alone.  The  Mass  of  Saint  Secaire  may  be  said  only  in  a 
ruined  or  deserted  church,  where  owls  mope  and  hoot, 
where  bats  flit  in  the  gloaming,  where  gypsies  lodge  of 
nights,  and  where  toads  squat  under  the  desecrated  altar. 
Thither  the  bad  priest  comes  by  night  with  his  light  o' 
love,  and  at  the  first  stroke  of  eleven  he  begins  to  mumble 
the  mass  backwards,  and  ends  just  as  the  clocks  are  knelling 
the  midnight  hour.  His  leman  acts  as  clerk.  The  host  he 
blesses  is  black  and  has  three  points;  he  consecrates  no  wine, 
but  instead  he  drinks  the  water  of  a  well  into  which  the 
body  of  an  unbaptized  infant  has  been  flung.  He  makes  the 
sign  of  the  cross,  but  it  is  on  the  ground  and  with  his  left 
foot.  And  many  other  things  he  does  which  no  good  Chris- 
tian could  look  upon  without  being  struck  blind  and  deaf 
and  dumb  for  the  rest  of  his  life.  But  the  man  for  whom 


JO2  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

the  mass  is  said  withers  away  little  by  little,  and  nobody 
can  say  \\hat  is  the  irane-  with  him;  even  the  doctors 
can  make  nothing  of  it.  They  do  not  know  that  he  is  slowly 
dying  of  the  Mass  of  Saint  Secaire. 

Yet  though  magic  is  thus  found  to  fuse  and  amalgamate 
with  religion  in  many  ages  and  in  many  lands,  there  are 
some  grounds  for  thinking  that  this  fusion  is  not  primitive, 
and  that  there  was  a  time  when  man  trusted  to  magic  alone 
for  the  satisfaction  of  such  wants  as  transcended  his  im- 
mediate animal  cravings.  In  the  first  place  a  consideration 
of  the  fundamental  notions  of  magic  and  religion  may  in- 
cline us  to  surmise  that  magic  is  older  than  religion  in  the 
history  of  humanity.  We  have  seen  that  on  the  one  hand 
magic  is  nothing  but  a  mistaken  application  of  the  very 
simplest  and  most  elementary  processes  of  the  mind,  namely, 
the  association  of  ideas  by  virtue  of  resemblance  or  con- 
tiguity; and  on  the  other  hand  that  religion  assumes  the 
operation  of  conscious  or  personal  agents,  superior  to  man, 
behind  the  visible  screen  of  nature.  Obviously  the  con- 
ception of  personal  agents  is  more  complex  than  a  simple 
recognition  of  the  similarity  or  contiguity  of  ideas;  and  a 
theory  which  assumes  that  the  course  of  nature  is  deter- 
mined by  conscious  agents  is  more  abstruse  and  recondite, 
and  requires  for  its  apprehension  a  far  higher  degree  of 
intelligence  and  reflection  than  the  view  that  things  succeed 
each  other  simply  by  reason  of  their  contiguity  or  resem- 
blance. The  very  beasts  associate  the  ideas  of  things  that  are 
like  each  other  or  that  have  been  found  together  in  theii 
experience;  and  they  could  hardly  survive  for  a  day  if  they 
ceased  to  do  so.  But  who  attributes  to  the  animals  a  belief 
that  the  phenomena  of  nature  are  worked  by  a  multitude 
of  invisible  animals  or  by  one  enormous  and  prodigiously 
strong  animal  behind  the  scenes?  It  is  probably  no  injustice 
to  the  brutes  to  assume  that  the  honor  of  devising  a  theory 
of  this  latter  sort  must  be  reserved  for  human  reason.  Thus, 
if  magic  be  deduced  immediately  from  elementary  processes 
of  reasoning,  and  be,  in  fact,  an  error  into  which  the  mind 


RELIGION  703 

falls  almost  spontaneously,  while  religion  rests  on  concep- 
tions which  the  merely  animal  intelligence  can  hardly  be 
supposed  to  have  yet  attained  to,  it  becomes  probable  that 
magic  arose  before  religion  in  the  evolution  of  our  race, 
and  that  man  essayed  to  bend  nature  to  his  wishes  by  the 
sheer  force  of  spells  and  enchantments  before  he  strove  to 
coax  and  mollify  a  coy,  capricious,  or  irascible  deity  by  the 
soft  insinuation  of  prayer  and  sacrifice. 

The  conclusion  which  we  have  thus  reached  deductively 
from  a  consideration  of  the  fundamental  ideas  of  religion 
and  magic  is  confirmed  inductively  by  what  we  know  of 
the  lowest  existing  race  of  mankind.  To  the  student  who  in  • 
vestigates  the  development  of  vegetable  and  animal  life  on 
our  globe,  Australia  serves  as  a  sort  of  museum  of  the  past, 
a  region  in  which  strange  species  of  plants  and  animals, 
represent  ing  types  that  have  long  been  extinct  elsewhere, 
may  still  be  seen  living  and  thriving,  as  if  on  purpose  to 
satisfy  the  curiosity  of  these  later  ages  as  to  the  fauna  and 
flora  of  the  antique  world.  This  singularity  Australia  owes 
to  the  comparative  smallncss  of  its  area,  the  waterless  an6 
desert  character  of  a  large  part  of  its  surface,  and  its  remote 
situation,  severed  by  wide  oceans  from  the  other  and  greater 
continents.  For  these  causes,  by  concurring  to  restrict  the 
number  of  competitors  in  the  struggle  itself;  and  thus  many 
a  quaint  old-fashioned  creature,  many  an  antediluvian 
oddity,  which  would  long  ago  have  been  rudely  elbowed 
and  hustled  out  of  existence  in  more  progressive  countries, 
has  been  suffered  to  jog  quietly  along  in  this  preserve  of 
Nature's  own,  this  peaceful  garden,  where  the  hand  on  the 
dial  of  time  seems  to  move  more  slowly  than  in  the  noisy 
bustling  world  outside.  And  the  same  causes  which  have 
favored  the  survival  of  antiquated  types  of  plants  and  ani- 
mals in  Australia,  have  conserved  the  aboriginal  race  at  a 
lower  level  of  mental  and  social  develonment  than  is  now 
occupied  by  any  other  ret  of  human  beings  spread  over  an 
equal  area  elsewhere.  Without  metals,  without  houses,  with- 
out agriculture,  the  Australian  savages  represent  the  stage 


704  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

of  material  culture  which  was  reached  by  our  remote  an- 
cestors in  the  Stone  Age;  and  the  rudimentary  state  of  the 
arts  of  life  among  them  reflects  faithfully  the  stunted  condi- 
tion of  their  minds.  Now  in  regard  to  the  question  of  the 
respective  priority  of  magic  or  religion  in  the  evolution  of 
thought,  it  is  very  important  to  observe  that  among  these 
rude  savages,  while  magic  is  universally  practiced,  religion 
in  the  sense  of  a  propitiation  or  conciliation  of  the  higher 
powers  seems  to  be  nearly  unknown.  Roughly  speaking,  all 
men  in  Australia  are  magicians,  but  not  one  is  a  priest; 
everybody  fancies  he  can  influence  his  fellows  or  the  course 
of  nature  by  sympathetic  magic,  but  nobody  dreams  of  pro- 
pitiating gods  or  spirits  by  prayer  and  sacrifice.  "It  may  be 
truly  affirmed,"  says  a  recent  writer  on  the  Australians, 
1  'that  there  was  not  a  solitary  native  who  did  not  believe  as 
firmly  in  the  power  of  sorcery  as  in  his  own  existence;  and 
while  anybody  could  practice  it  to  a  limited  extent,  there 
were  in  every  community  a  few  men  who  excelled  in  pre- 
tension to  skill  in  the  community;  by  unanimous  consent 
the  whites  have  called  them  'doctors,'  and  they  correspond 
to  the  medicine  men  and  rain-makers  of  other  barbarous 
nations.  The  power  of  the  doctor  is  only  circumscribed  by 
the  range  of  his  fancy.  He  communes  with  spirits,  takes 
aerial  flights  at  pleasure,  kills  or  cures,  is  invulnerable  and 
invisible  at  will,  and  controls  the  elements." 

But  if  in  the  most  primitive  state  of  human  society  now 
open  to  observation  on  the  globe  we  find  magic  thus  con- 
spicuously present  and  religion  conspicuously  absent,  may 
we  not  reasonably  conjecture  that  the  civilized  races  of 
the  world  have  also  at  some  period  of  their  history  passed 
through  a  similar  intellectual  phase,  that  they  attempted 
to  force  the  great  powers  of  nature  to  do  their  pleasure  before 
they  thought  of  courting  their  favor  by  offering  and  prayer 
—in  short  that,  just  as  on  the  material  side  of  human  culture 
there  has  everywhere  been  an  Age  of  Stone,  so  on  the  intel- 
lectual side  there  has  everywhere  been  an  Age  of  Magic? 
There  are  reasons  for  answering  this  question  in  the  affirma- 


RELIGION  705 

tive.  When  we  survey  the  existing  races  of  mankind  from 
Greenland  to  Tierra  del  Fuego,  or  from  Scotland  to  Singa- 
pore, we  observe  that  they  are  distinguished  one  from  the 
other  by  a  great  variety  of  religions,  and  that  these  distinc- 
tions are  not,  so  to  speak,  merely  coterminous  with  the  broad 
distinctions  of  race,  but  descend  into  the  minuter  subdivision* 
of  states  and  commonwealth,  nay,  that  they  honeycomb  the 
town,  the  village,  and  even  the  family,  so  that  the  surface  of 
society  all  over  the  world  is  cracked  and  seamed,  wormed 
and  sapped  with  rents  and  fissures  and  yawning  crevasses 
opened  up  by  the  disintegrating  influence  of  religious  dis- 
sension. Yet  when  we  have  penetrated  through  these  differ- 
ences, which  affect  mainly  the  intelligent  and  thoughtful 
part  of  the  community,  we  shall  find  underlying  them  all 
a  solid  stratum  of  intellectual  agreement  among  the  dull, 
the  weak,  the  ignorant,  and  the  superstitious,  who  constitute, 
unfortunately,  the  vast  majority  of  mankind.  One  of  the 
great  achievements  of  the  century  which  is  now  nearing  its 
end  is  to  have  run  shafts  down  into  this  low  mental  stratum 
in  many  parts  of  the  world,  and  thus  to  have  discovered 
its  substantial  identity  everywhere.  It  is  beneath  our  feet — 
and  not  very  far  beneath  them — here  in  Europe  at  the 
present  day,  and  it  crops  up  on  the  surface  in  the  heart  of 
the  Australian  wilderness  and  wherever  the  advent  of  a 
higher  civilization  has  not  crushed  it  underground.  This 
universal  faith,  this  truly  Catholic  creed,  is  a  belief  in  the 
efficacy  of  magic.  While  religious  systems  differ  not  only  in 
different  countries,  but  in  the  same  country  in  different  ages, 
the  system  of  sympathetic  magic  remains  everywhere  and 
at  all  times  substantially  alike  in  its  principles  and  practice. 
Among  the  ignorant  and  superstitious  classes  of  modern 
Europe  it  is  very  much  what  it  was  thousands  of  years  ago 
in  Egypt  and  India,  and  what  it  now  is  among  the  lowest, 
savages  surviving  in  the  remotest  corners  of  the  world.  If 
the  test  of  truth  lay  in  a  show  of  hands  or  a  counting  of 
heads,  the  system  of  magic  might  appeal,  with  far  more 
reason  than  the  Catholic  Church,  to  the  proud  motto, 


/06  THEMAKINGOFMAN 

*Quod  semper,  quod  ubique,  quod  ab  omnibus,"  as  the 
sure  and  certain  credential  of  its  own  infallibility. 

It  is  not  our  business  here  to  consider  what  bearing  the 
permanent  existence  of  such  a  solid  layer  of  savagery  be- 
neath the  surface  of  society,  and  unaffected  by  the  superficial 
changes  of  religion  and  culture,  has  upon  the  future  of 
humanity.  The  dispassionate  observer,  whose  studies  have 
led  him  to  plumb  its  depths,  can  hardly  regard  it  otherwise 
than  as  a  standing  menace  to  civilization.  We  seem  to  move 
on  a  thin  crust  which  may  at  any  moment  be  rent  by  the 
subterranean  forces  slumbering  below.  From  time  to  time 
a  hollow  murmur  underground  or  a  sudden  spit  of  flame 
into  the  air  tells  of  what  is  going  on  beneath  our  feet.  Now 
and  then  the  polite  world  is  startled  by  a  paragraph  in  a 
newspaper  which  tells  how  in  Scotland  an  image  has  been 
found  stuck  full  of  pins  for  the  purpose  of  killing  an  obnox- 
ious laird  or  minister,  how  a  woman  has  been  slowly  roasted 
to  death  as  a  witch  in  Ireland,  or  how  a  girl  has  been  mur- 
dered and  chopped  up  in  Russia  to  make  those  candles  of 
human  tallow  by  whose  light  thieves  hope  to  pursue 
their  midnight  trade  unseen.  But  whether  the  influences  that 
make  for  further  progress,  or  those  that  threaten  to  undo 
what  has  already  been  accomplished,  will  ultimately  pre- 
vail; whether  the  kinetic  energy  of  the  minority  or  the  dead 
weight  of  the  majority  of  mankind  will  prove  the  stronger 
force  to  carry  us  up  to  higher  heights  or  to  sink  us  into  lower 
depths,  are  questions  rather  for  the  sage,  the  moralist,  and 
the  statesman,  whose  eagle  vision  scans  the  future,  than  for 
the  humble  student  of  the  present  and  the  past.  Here  we  are 
only  concerned  to  ask  how  far  the  uniformity,  the  univer- 
sality, and  the  permanence  of  a  belief  in  magic,  compared 
with  the  endless  variety  and  the  shifting  character  of  re- 
ligious creeds,  raises  a  presumption  that  the  former  repre- 
sents a  ruder  and  earlier  phase  of  the  human  mind,  through 
which  all  the  races  of  mankind  have  passed  or  are  passing  on 
their  way  to  religion  and  science. 

If  an  Age  of  Religion  has  thus  everywhere,  as  I  venture 


RELIGION  707 

to  surmise,  been  preceded  by  an  Age  of  Magic,  it  is  natural 
that  we  should  inquire  what  causes  have  led  mankind,  or 
rather  a  portion  of  them,  to  abandon  magic  as  a  principle 
of  faith  and  practice  and  to  betake  themselves  to  religion 
instead.  When  we  reflect  upon  the  multitude,  the  variety,  and 
the  complexity  of  the  facts  to  be  explained,  and  the  scantiness 
of  our  information  regarding  them,  we  shall  be  ready  to 
acknowledge  that  a  full  and  satisfactory  solution  of  so 
profound  a  problem  is  hardly  to  be  hoped  for,  and  that  the 
most  we  can  do  in  the  present  state  of  our  knowledge  is  to 
hazard  a  more  or  less  plausible  conjecture.  With  all  due 
diffidence,  then,  I  would  suggest  that  a  tardy  recognition  of 
the  inherent  falsehood  and  barrenness  of  magic  set  the  more 
thoughtful  part  of  mankind  to  cast  about  for  a  truer  theory 
of  nature  and  a  more  fruitful  method  of  turning  her  re- 
sources to  account.  The  shrewder  intelligences  must  in  time 
have  come  to  perceive  that  magical  ceremonies  and  incan- 
tations did  not  really  effect  the  results  which  they  were 
designed  to  produce,  and  which  the  majority  of  their  simpler 
fellows  still  believed  that  they  did  actually  produce.  This 
great  discovery  of  the  incfficacy  of  magic  must  have  wrought 
a  radical  though  probably  slow  revolution  in  the  minds  ol 
those  who  had  the  sagacity  to  make  it.  The  discovery 
amounted  to  this,  that  men  for  the  first  time  recognized  their 
inability  to  manipulate  at  pleasure  certain  natural  forces 
which  hitherto  they  had  believed  to  be  completely  within 
their  control.  It  was  a  confession  of  human  ignorance  and 
weakness.  Man  saw  that  he  had  taken  for  causes  what  were 
no  causes,  and  that  all  his  efforts  to  work  by  means  of  these 
imaginary  causes  had  been  vain.  His  painful  toil  had  been 
wasted,  his  curious  ingenuity  had  been  squandered  to  no 
purpose.  He  had  been  pulling  at  strings  to  which  nothing 
was  attached;  he  had  been  marching,  as  he  thought,  straight 
to  his  goal,  while  in  reality  he  had  only  been  treading  in  a 
narrow  circle.  Not  that  the  effects  which  he  had  striven  so 
hard  to  produce  did  not  continue  to  manifest  themselves. 
They  were  still  produced,  but  not  by  him.  The  rain  still  fell 


708  THEMAKINGOFMAN 

an  the  thirsty  ground;  the  sun  still  pursued  his  daily,  and 
the  moon  her  nightly  journey  across  the  sky;  the  silent  pro- 
cession of  the  seasons  still  moved  in  light  and  shadow,  in 
cloud  and  sunshine  across  the  earth;  men  were  still  born 
to  labor  and  sorrow,  and  still  after  a  brief  sojourn  here,  were 
gathered  to  their  fathers  in  the  long  home  hereafter.  All 
things  indeed  went  on  as  before,  yet  all  seemed  different  to 
him  from  whose  eyes  the  old  scales  had  fallen.  For  he  could 
no  longer  cherish  the  pleasing  illusion  that  it  was  he  who 
guided  the  earth  and  the  heaven  in  their  courses,  and  that 
they  would  cease  to  perform  their  great  revolutions  were  he 
to  take  his  feeble  hand  from  the  wheel.  In  the  death  of  his 
enemies  and  his  friends  he  no  longer  saw  a  proof  of  the 
resistless  potency  of  his  own  or  of  hostile  enchantments;  he 
now  knew  that  friends  and  foes  alike  had  succumbed  to  a 
force  stronger  than  any  that  he  could  wield,  and  in  obedi- 
ence to  a  destiny  which  he  was  powerless  to  control. 

Thus  cut  adrift  from  his  ancient  moorings  and  left  to  toss 
on  a  troubled  sea  of  doubt  and  uncertainty,  his  old  happy 
confidence  in  himself  and  his  powers  rudely  shaken,  our 
primitive  philosopher  must  have  been  sadly  perplexed  and 
agitated  till  he  came  to  rest,  as  in  a  quiet  haven  after  a 
tempestuous  voyage,  in  a  new  system  of  faith  and  practice, 
which  seemed  to  offer  a  solution  of  his  harassing  doubts  and 
a  substitute,  however  precarious,  for  that  sovereignty  over 
nature  which  he  had  reluctantly  abdicated.  If  the  great  world 
went  on  its  way  without  the  help  of  him  or  his  fellows,  it 
must  surely  be  because  there  were  other  beings,  like  himself 
but  far  stronger,  who,  unseen  themselves,  directed  its  course 
and  brought  about  all  the  varied  series  of  events  which 
he  had  hitherto  believed  to  be  dependent  on  his  own  magic. 
It  was  they,  as  he  now  believed,  and  not  he  himself,  who 
made  the  stormy  wind  to  blow,  the  lightning  to  flash,  and 
the  thunder  to  roll;  who  had  laid  the  foundations  of  the  solid 
earth  and  set  bounds  to  the  restless  sea  that  it  might  not 
pass;  who  caused  all  the  glorious  lights  of  heaven  to  shine; 
who  gave  the  fowls  of  the  air  their  meat  and  the  wild  beasts 


RELIGION  709 

of  the  desert  their  prey;  who  bade  the  fruitful  land  to  bring 
forth  in  abundance,  the  high  hills  to  be  clothed  with  forests, 
the  bubbling  springs  to  rise  under  the  rocks  in  the  valleys, 
and  the  green  pastures  to  grow  by  still  waters;  who  breathed 
into  man's  nostrils  and  made  him  live,  or  turned  him  to 
destruction  by  famine  and  pestilence  and  war.  To  these 
mighty  beings,  whose  handiwork  he  traced  in  all  the  gor- 
geous and  varied  pageantry  of  nature,  man  now  addressed 
himself,  humbly  confessing  his  dependence  on  their  in- 
visible power,  and  beseeching  them  of  their  mercy  to  fur- 
nish him  with  all  good  things,  to  defend  him  from  the  perils 
and  dangers  by  which  our  mortal  life  is  compassed  about  on 
every  hand,  and  finally  to  bring  his  immortal  spirit,  freed 
from  the  burden  of  the  body,  to  some  happier  world  beyond 
the  reach  of  pain  and  sorrow,  where  he  might  rest  with  them 
and  with  the  spirits  of  good  men  in  joy  and  felicity  forever, 
In  this,  or  some  such  way  as  this,  the  deeper  minds  may 
be  conceived  to  have  made  the  great  transition  from  magic 
to  religion.  But  even  in  them  the  change  can  hardly  eve* 
have  been  sudden;  probably  it  proceeded  very  slowly,  and 
required  long  ages  for  its  more  or  less  perfect  accomplish- 
ment. For  the  recognition  of  man's  powerlessness  to  influ 
ence  the  course  of  nature  on  a  grand  scale  must  have  been 
gradual;  he  cannot  have  been  shorn  of  the  whole  of  his 
fancied  dominion  at  a  blow.  Step  by  step  he  must  have 
been  driven  back  from  his  proud  position;  foot  by  foot  he 
must  have  yielded,  with  a  sigh,  the  ground  which  he  had 
once  viewed  as  his  own.  Now  it  would  be  the  wind,  now 
the  rain,  now  the  sunshine,  now  the  thunder,  that  he  con- 
fessed himself  unable  to  wield  at  will;  and  as  province 
after  province  of  nature  thus  fell  from  his  grasp,  till  what 
had  once  seemed  a  kingdom  threatened  to  shrink  into  a 
prison,  man  must  have  been  more  and  more  profoundly 
impressed  with  a  sense  of  his  own  helplessness  and  the 
might  of  the  invisfble  beings  by  whom  he  believed  himself 
to  be  surrounded.  Thus  religion,  beginning  as  a  slight  and 
partial  acknowledgment  of  powers  superior  to  man,  tend* 


/iO  THEMAKINGOFMAN 

with  the  growth  of  knowledge  to  deepen  into  a  confession 
of  man's  entire  and  absolute  dependence  on  the  divine;  his 
old  free  bearing  is  exchanged  for  an  attitude  of  lowliest 
prostration  before  the  mysterious  powers  of  the  unseen. 
But  this  deepening  sense  of  religion,  this  more  perfect 
submission  to  the  divine  will  in  all  things,  affects  only  those 
higher  intelligences  who  have  breadth  of  view  enough  to 
comprehend  the  vastness  of  the  universe  and  the  littleness  of 
men.  Small  minds  cannot  grasp  great  ideas;  to  their  narrow 
comprehension,  their  purblind  vision,  nothing  seems  really 
great  and  important  but  themselves.  Such  minds  hardly  rise 
into  religion  at  all.  They  are,  indeed,  drilled  by  their  betters 
into  an  outward  conformity  with  its  precepts  and  a  verbal 
profession  of  its  tenets;  but  at  heart  they  cling  to  their  old 
magical  superstitions,  which  may  be  discountenanced  and 
forbidden,  but  cannot  be  eradicated  by  religion,  so  long  as 
they  have  their  roots  deep  down  in  the  mental  framework 
and  constitution  of  the  great  majority  of  mankind. 

The  reader  may  well  be  tempted  to  ask,  How  was  it  that 
''ntelligent  men  did  not  sooner  detect  the  fallacy  of  magic? 
How  could  they  continue  to  cherish  expectations  that  were 
invariably  doomed  to  disappointment?  With  what  heart 
persist  in  playing  venerable  antics  that  led  to  nothing,  and 
mumbling  solemn  balderdash  that  remained  without  effect? 
Why  cling  to  beliefs  which  were  so  flatly  contradicted  by 
experience?  How  dare  to  repeat  experiments  that  had 
failed  so  often  ?  The  answer  seems  to  be  that  the  fallacy  was 
far  from  easy  to  detect,  the  failure  by  no  means  obvious, 
since  in  many,  perhaps  in  most  cases,  the  desired  event  did 
actually  follow,  at  a  longer  or  shorter  interval,  the  perform- 
ance of  the  rite  which  was  designed  to  bring  it  about;  and 
a  mind  of  more  than  common  acuteness  was  needed  to 
perceive  that,  even  in  these  cases,  the  rite  was  not  neces- 
sarily the  cause  of  the  event.  A  ceremony  intended  to  make 
the  wind  blow  or  the  rain  fall,  or  to  work  the  death  of  an 
enemy,  will  always  be  followed,  sooner  or  later,  by  the  occur- 
rence it  is  meant  to  bring  to  pass;  and  primitive  man  may 


RELIGION  711 

be  excused  for  regarding  the  occurrence  as  a  direct  result 
of  the  ceremony  and  the  best  possible  proof  of  its  efficacy. 
Similarly,  rites  observed  in  the  morning  to  help  the  sun  to 
rise,  and  in  spring  to  wake  the  dreaming  earth  from  her 
winter  sleep,  will  invariably  appear  to  be  crowned  with 
success,  at  least  within  the  temperate  zones;  for  in  these 
regions  the  sun  lights  his  golden  fire  in  the  east  every 
morning,  and  year  by  year  the  vernal  earth  decks  herself 
afresh  with  a  rich  mantle  of  green.  Hence  the  practical 
savage,  with  his  conservative  instincts,  might  well  turn  a 
deaf  ear  to  the  subtleties  of  the  theoretical  doubter,  the  philo- 
sophic radical,  who  presumed  to  hint  that  sunrise  and  spring 
might  not,  after  all,  be  direct  consequences  of  the  punctual 
performance  of  certain  daily  or  yearly  devotions,  and  that 
the  sun  might  perhaps  continue  to  rise  and  trees  to  blossom 
though  the  devotions  were  occasionally  intermitted,  or  even 
discontinued  altogether.  These  skeptical  doubts  would  natu- 
rally be  repelled  by  the  other  with  scorn  and  indignation 
as  airy  reveries  subversive  of  the  faith,  and  manifestly  con- 
tradicted by  experience.  "Can  anything  be  plainer,"  he  might 
say,  "than  that  I  light  my  two-penny  candle  on  earth  and 
that  the  sun  then  kindles  his  great  fire  in  heaven?  I  should 
be  glad  to  know  whether,  when  I  have  put  on  my  green  robe 
in  spring,  the  trees  do  not  afterwards  do  the  same  ?  These 
are  facts  patent  to  everybody,  and  on  them  I  take  my  stand. 
I  am  a  plain  practical  man,  not  one  of  your  theorists  and 
splitters  of  hairs  and  choppers  of  logic.  Theories  and  specula- 
tion and  all  that  may  be  very  well  in  their  way,  and  I  have 
not  the  least  objection  to  your  indulging  in  them,  provided,  of 
course,  you  do  not  put  them  in  practice.  But  give  me  leave 
to  stick  to  facts;  then  I  know  where  I  am."  The  fallacy  of 
this  reasoning  is  obvious  to  us,  because  it  happens  to  deal 
with  facts  about  which  we  have  long  made  up  our  minds. 
But  let  an  argument  of  precisely  the  same  caliber  be  ap- 
plied to  matters  which  are  still  under  debate,  and  it  may 
be  questioned  whether  a  British  audience  would  not  applaud 
it  as  sound,  and  esteem  the  speaker  who  used  it  a  safe 


712  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

man — not  brilliant  or  showy,  perhaps,  but  thoroughly  sensi- 
ble and  hard-headed.  If  such  reasonings  could  pass  muster 
among  ourselves,  need  we  wonder  that  they  long  escaped 
detection  by  the  savage? 

The  patient  reader  may  remember — and  the  impatient 
reader  who  has  quite  forgotten  is  respectfully  reminded— 
that  we  were  led  to  plunge  into  the  labyrinth  of  magic,  in 
which  we  have  wandered  for  so  many  pages,  by  a  con- 
sideration of  two  different  types  of  man-god.  This  is  the 
clue  which  has  guided  our  devious  steps  through  the  maze, 
and  brought  us  out  at  last  on  higher  ground,  whence,  rest- 
ing a  little  by  the  way,  we  can  look  back  over  the  path  we 
have  already  traversed  and  forward  to  the  longer  and 
steeper  road  we  have  still  to  climb. 

As  a  result  of  the  foregoing  discussion,  the  two  type-, 
of  human  gods  may  conveniently  be  distinguished  as  the 
religious  and  the  magical  man-god  respectively.  In  the 
former,  a  being  of  an  order  different  from  and  superior 
to  man  is  supposed  to  become  incarnate,  for  a  longer  or  a 
shorter  time,  in  a  human  body,  manifesting  his  super- 
human power  and  knowledge  by  miracles  wrought  and 
prophecies  uttered  through  the  medium  of  the  fleshly  taber- 
nacle in  which  he  has  deigned  to  take  up  his  abode. 
This  may  also  appropriately  be  called  the  inspired  or  in- 
carnate type  of  man-god.  In  it  the  human  body  is  merely 
a  frail  earthly  vessel  filled  with  a  divine  and  immortal 
spirit.  On  the  other  hand,  a  man-god  of  the  magical  sort 
is  nothing  but  a  man  who  possesses  in  an  unusually  high 
degree  powers  which  most  of  his  fellows  arrogate  to  them- 
selves on  a  smaller  scale;  for  in  rude  society  there  is  hardly 
a  person  who  does  not  dabble  in  magic.  Thus,  whereas  a 
man-god  of  the  former  or  insipid  type  derives  his  divinity 
from  a  deity  who  has  stooped  to  hide  his  heavenly  radiance 
behind  a  dull  mask  of  earthly  mold,  a  man-god  of  the 
latter  type  draws  his  extraordinary  power  from  a  certain 
physical  sympathy  with  nature.  He  is  not  merely  the  re- 
reptaclc  of  a  divine  spirit.  His  whole  being,  body  and 


RELIGION  713 

soul,  is  so  delicately  attuned  to  the  harmony  of  the  world 
that  a  touch  of  his  hand  or  a  turn  of  his  head  may  send 
a  thrill  vibrating  through  the  universal  framework  of 
things;  and  conversely  his  divine  organism  is  acutely  sensi- 
tive to  such  slight  changes  of  environment  as  would  leave 
ordinary  mortals  wholly  unaffected.  But  the  line  between 
these  two  types  of  man-god,  however  sharply  we  may 
draw  it  in  theory,  is  seldom  to  be  traced  with  precision 
in  practice,  and  in  what  follows  I  shall  not  insist  on  it. 

To  readers  long  familiarized  with  the  conception  of 
natural  law,  the  belief  of  primitive  man  that  he  can  rule 
the  elements  must  be  so  foreign  that  it  may  be  well  to 
illustrate  it  by  examples.  When  we  have  seen  that  in  early 
society  men  who  make  no  pretense  at  all  of  being  gods, 
do  nevertheless  commonly  believe  themselves  to  be  invested 
with  powers  which  to  us  would  seem  supernatural,  we  shall 
have  the  less  difficulty  in  comprehending  the  extraordinary 
range  of  powers  ascribed  to  persons  who  are  actually  re- 
garded as  divine. 

Of  all  natural  phenomena  there  are,  perhaps,  none  which 
civilized  man  feels  himself  more  powerless  to  influence  than 
the  rain,  the  sun,  and  the  wind;  yet  all  these  are  commonly 
supposed  by  savages  to  be  in  some  degree  under  their 
control. 


THE  GROWTH  OF  A  PRIMITIVE 
RELIGION  * 

By  A.  L.  KROEBER 
REGIONAL  VARIATION   OF   CULTURE 

As  one  first  becomes  acquainted  with  a  totally  strange 
people  spread  over  a  large  area,  such  as  the  Indians  of 
North  America,  they  are  likely  to  seem  rather  uniforrr 
The  distinctions  between  individual  and  individual,  aiu! 
even  the  greater  distinctions  between  one  group  and  an 
other,  become  buried  under  the  overwhelming  mass-effect 
of  their  difference  from  ourselves.  Growing  familiarity, 
however,  renders  individual,  local,  and  tribal  peculiarities 
plainer.  The  specialist,  finally,  comes  to  concern  himself 
with  particular  traits  until  the  peculiarities  occupy  more 
of  his  attention  than  the  uniformities.  His  danger  always 
is  to  let  himself  get  into  the  habit  of  taking  sweeping  simi- 
larities so  much  for  granted  that  he  ends  by  underempha- 
sizing  or  forgetting  them.  At  the  same  time  his  business 
is  to  add  something  new  to  human  understanding — facts 
at  any  rate,  interpretation  if  possible.  Generalities  are  likely 
to  be  pretty  widely  known,  and  progress,  new  formulations, 
therefore  depend  ultimately  on  mastery  of  detail.  This 
means  that  if  a  scientist  is  to  contribute  anything  to  the 
world's  comprehension,  is  to  add  a  new  mental  tool  to  its 
chest,  he  must  devote  himself  to  specific  traits,  to  discrimina- 
tions of  fine  detail.  It  is  only  by  finding  new  trees  that  he 
helps  to  make  the  woods  larger. 

If  then  we  approach  a  race  like  the  American  Indians 
with  the  scientist's  or  student's  purpose  of  discovering 
something  more  than  we  already  know,  we  quickly  find 
that  institutions,  customs,  and  utensils,  in  other  words,  the 

*  Anthropology.    New  York:  Harcourt,  Brace  &  Co. 

714 


RELIGION  715 

cultures,  vary  from  tribe  to  tribe.  When  one  compares 
tribes  living  so  far  apart  as  to  be  no  longer  united  in 
intercourse,  nor  even  by  communication  with  common 
intermediaries,  there  is  scarcely  a  trait  in  which  their  cul- 
tures are  wholly  identical.  Within  a  limited  district  a  fair 
degree  of  uniformity  is  found  to  prevail.  Yet  when  the 
boundaries  of  such  an  area  are  crossed,  a  new  type  of 
culture  begins  to  be  encountered,  which  again  holds  with 
local  variations  until  a  third  district  is  entered. 

PLAINS,   SOUTHWEST,  NORTHWEST  AREAS 

For  instance,  the  Indians  of  the  Plains  between  the 
Rocky  mountains  and  the  Mississippi  river  form  a  com- 
parative unit.  They  are  all  warlike,  the  great  aim  in  life 
of  every  man  in  these  tribes  being  attainment  of  military 
glory.  All  the  Plains  tribes  subsisted  to  a  large  extent  on 
buffalo,  lived  in  tipis — tents  made  of  buffalo  skins — and 
boiled  their  food  with  hot  stones  in  buffalo  rawhide.  Nearly 
all  of  them  performed  a  four  days'  religious  ceremony 
known  as  the  Sun  Dance,  of  which  one  of  the  outstanding 
acts  was  fasting  and  sometimes  self-torture  inflicted  with 
skewers  drawn  through  the  skin  and  torn  out.  These  cus- 
toms were  common  to  the  Sioux,  Cheyenne,  Arapaho,  Crow, 
Blackfeet,  Assiniboine,  Omaha,  Kiowa,  Comanche,  and 
other  tribes. 

As  one  passes  from  this  region  to  the  mountainous 
plateau  which  constitutes  the  present  New  Mexico  and 
Arizona — the  Southwest  of  the  United  States — one  en- 
counters a  series  of  tribes  often  inhabiting  stone  houses, 
subsisting  by  agriculture,  cooking  in  earthenware  pots, 
little  given  to  fighting,  according  authority  to  priests  rather 
than  warriors,  erecting  altars,  and  performing  masked 
dances  representing  divinities.  This  Southwestern  culture, 
its  internal  relations,  and  the  tribes  participating  in  it,  have 
already  been  discussed  in  another  connection. 

If,  however,  on  leaving  the  Plains  one  turns  northwest 
to  the  shores  of  British  Columbia  and  southern  Alaska, 


7l6  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

a  third  distinctive  type  of  native  civilization  appears.  Among 
these  Northwestern  or  North  Pacific  Coast  tribes,  such 
as  the  Tlingit,  Haida,  Tsimshian,  Kwakiutl,  Nutka,  and 
Salish,  the  priest  as  well  as  the  warrior  bowed  before  the 
rich  man,  an  elaborate  set  of  rules  and  honors  separating 
the  wealthy  high-born  from  the  poor  and  lowly.  Aristoc- 
racy, commoners,  and  slaves  made  up  distinct  strata  of 
society  in  this  region.  Public  rituals  were  occasions  for 
the  ostentation  of  wealth.  Houses  were  carpentered  of 
wood.  Cooking  was  done  in  boxes.  The  prevalent  food  was 
fish. 

The  significant  thing  is  that  these  are  not  three  tribes, 
but  three  groups  each  consisting  of  a  number  of  politically 
independent  tribes  spread  over  a  considerable  territory 
and  evincing  a  fairly  fundamental  similarity  of  customs 
and  institutions.  We  are  confronting  three  kinds  of  culture, 
each  supertribal  in  range  and  attached  to  a  certain  area. 
These  areas  have  sometimes  been  called  "ethnographic 
provinces";  they  are  generally  known  as  "culture-areas." 
Of  such  areas  ten  are  generally  recognized  on  the  North 
American  continent.  These  are  the  Plains,  Southwest, 
North  Pacific  Coast,  Mackenzie-Yukon,  Arctic,  Plateau, 
California,  Northeast,  Southeast,  and  Mexico. 

Obviously  we  have  here  a  classification  comparable  to 
that  which  the  naturalist  makes  of  animals.  As  the  zool- 
ogist divides  the  vertebrate  animals  into  mammals,  birds, 
reptiles,  amphibians,  and  fishes,  so  the  anthropologist  di- 
vides the  generic  North  American  Indian  culture  into  the 
cultures  of  these  ten  areas.  The  naturalist  however  cannot 
stop  with  a  group  as  inclusive  as  the  mammals,  and  goes 
on  to  subdivide  them  into  orders,  such  as  the  rodents, 
carnivores,  ungulates,  and  the  like.  Each  of  these  again 
he  goes  on  splitting  into  families,  genera,  and  finally  species. 
The  species  correspond  to  the  smallest  groups  in  human 
society,  namely,  the  tribes  or  nations.  Parallel  to  the  family 
or  order  which  the  naturalist  finds  between  a  particular 
species  and  the  great  class  of  mammals,  one  may  therefore 


RELIGION  717 

expect  to  discover  groups  intermediate  between  particular 
tribes  and  the  large  culture-areas.  Such  intermediate  groups 
would  consist  of  clusters  of  tribes  constituting  fractions 
of  a  culture-area:  clearly  pertaining  to  this  area,  but  yet 
somewhat  set  ofl  from  other  clusters  within  the  same 
area — like  the  Pueblos  and  Navaho  within  the  Southwest, 
as  already  described.  We  may  call  such  clusters  or  fractions 
sub-culture-areas,  and  must  concern  ourselves  with  them  if 
we  desire  to  deepen  our  understanding  of  aboriginal  Ameri- 
can civilization. 

For  the  sake  of  simplicity,  it  will  be  well  to  select  a 
limited  portion  of  North  America,  instead  of  wrestling 
with  the  intricacies  of  the  continent  as  a  whole,  in  an 
endeavor  to  see  how  its  culture-areas  and  sub-culture-areas 
reveal  themselves  in  detail  and  help  to  throw  a  light  on 
native  history.  California  will  serve  as  a  type  example. 

CALIFORNIA  AND   ITS   SUB-AREAS 

Modern  state  boundaries  frequently  do  not  coincide  with 
either  ethnic  lines  of  division  or  with  natural  physiographic 
areas,  especially  when  political  units  are  created  by  legisla- 
tive enactment,  as  has  been  the  case  with  most  of  the 
United  States.  This  partial  discrepancy  holds  for  California. 
The  native  culture  most  distinctive  of  California  covered 
only  the  middle  two-thirds  of  the  present  state,  but  took 
in  Nevada  and  much  of  the  Great  Basin. 

Northernmost  California,  especially  along  the  ocean,  was 
inhabited  by  Indians  that  affiliated  with  the  tribes  of  the 
North  Pacific  coast.  One  after  another  their  customs  and 
arts  prove  on  examination  to  be  related  to  the  customs 
and  arts  of  the  coast  of  British  Columbia,  and  to  differ 
more  or  less  from  the  corresponding  practices  of  the  Cen- 
tral California  Indians.  Here  then  we  have  a  second  cul- 
tural type,  that  of  northwestern  California,  which  con- 
stitutes a  subdivision  of  the  North  Pacific  Coast  cultnre-area. 

The  southern  California  Indians  link  with  the  Indian* 
of  the  adjoining*  states  of  Arizona  and  New  Mexico.  In 


^l8  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

short,  this  part  of  California  forms  part  of  the  Southwest 
culture-area.  The  southern  California  tribes  are  however 
not  wholly  uniform  among  themselves,  but  constitute  two 
groups:  those  of  the  islands,  coast,  and  mountains,  and 
those  of  the  Colorado  River.  These  are  distinguished  pri- 
marily by  the  fact  that  only  the  river  tribes  practiced  agri- 
culture. We  may  designate  these  two  divisions  as  "South- 
ern California"  proper  and  "Lower  Colorado  River." 

THE  SHAPING   OF   A   PROBLEM 

So  far  we  have  been  discriminating,  that  is,  looking  for 
characteristic  differences.  On  the  other  hand,  there  has 
always  existed  a  consensus  of  impression,  among  experienced 
as  well  as  hasty  observers,  that  a  certain  likeness  runs 
through  the  culture  of  most  of  the  tribes  of  California, 
northern,  central,  and  southern.  With  scarcely  an  excep- 
tion they  were  un warlike;  nearly  all  of  them  made  ex- 
cellent baskets,  but  were  deficient  in  wood-working.  Ob- 
viously it  is  necessary  to  reconcile  these  uniformities  with 
the  peculiarities  that  distinguish  the  four  regional  types 
or  sub-culture-areas,  as  well  as  to  account  for  the  peculiari- 
ties. 

Let  us  simplify  the  problem  by  considering  only  one 
aspect  of  the  four  native  cultures  instead  of  the  whole 
cultures.  In  this  way  there  will  be  more  likelihood  of  making 
a  substantial  beginning;  any  results  obtained  from  the  ex- 
ample can  be  subsequently  checked  from  other  aspects 
of  the  cultures  to  see  if  the  findings  are  broadly  representa- 
tive. Further,  let  us  arrange  the  items  of  information  that 
are  available  on  this  one  aspect  of  culture,  not  haphazardly, 
nor  mechanically  as  under  an  alphabetic  classification,  nor 
in  the  sequence  in  which  authors  have  published  their 
observations,  but  naturally,  or  according  to  some  principle 
that  is  likely  to  work  out  into  an  interpretation.  Since  part 
of  the  problem  is  the  relation  of  the  uniform  features  to 
<he  peculiar  ones,  a  promising  order  will  be  to  put  at  one 


RELIGION  7lf) 

end  of  the  line  or  series  of  data  the  most  universal  features, 
and  at  the  other  the  most  particular  or  localized  ones. 

Let  us  select  religion  as  that  part  of  native  culture  to  be 
examined,  and  limit  this  still  farther  by  eliminating  from 
consideration,  for  the  time  being,  all  forms  of  religion  ex- 
cept public  rituals,  which  among  Indians  are  frequently 
accompanied  or  signalized  by  sacred  dances.  We  may  for- 
get, for  the  moment,  private  rites,  individual  sacrifices,  super- 
stitions and  taboos,  medicine  men,  myths,  and  the  like,  and 
direct  attention  to  dances  made  by  groups  of  people,  or  the 
obvious  equivalents  of  such  dances,  and  ritual  acts  definitely 
associated  with  the  dances  or  the  common  weal. 

Choice  of  this  phase  of  native  culture  is  not  quite  ran* 
dom;  ritual  ordinarily  is  rather  freer  from  the  complication? 
caused  by  natural  environment  than  most  other  institu- 
tions and  customs.  Had  industrial  arts,  for  instance,  been 
selected  as  the  point  of  attack,  it  might  be  imagined  that 
certain  tribes  made  pottery,  and  others  did  not,  because 
of  the  presence  or  absence  of  suitable  clay  in  their  re- 
spective habitats;  or  perhaps  that  a  particular  weave  of 
basketry  occurred  universally  because  this  weave  followed 
more  or  less  directly  from  the  physical  properties  of  some 
plant  material  that  abounded  everywhere  in  the  state.  On 
the  other  hand,  when  tribes  do  or  do  not  make  dances  in 
honor  of  their  divinities,  or  when  they  do  or  do  not  prac- 
tice an  elaborate  mourning  for  their  dead,  these  are  cus- 
toms into  which  the  influence  of  natural  environment  can 
scarcely  enter,  since  all  peoples  believe  in  spirits  and  suffer 
the  loss  of  relatives. 

GIRLS*  ADOLESCENCE  RITE 

When,  then,  we  review  the  religious  dances  of  the  Cali- 
fornia tribes  en  masse,  we  find  that  there  are  only  two 
which  come  near  to  being  universal.  One  of  these  is  the 
Victory  Dance  held  over  the  head  or  scalp  of  a  slain  enemy; 
the  other  is  an  Adolescence  Rite  performed  for  girls  at 
puberty.  The  latter  is  the  more  profitable  to  consider.  It  is 


720  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

the  mere  widely  spread,  having  been  performed  in  every 
district  of  California,  and  by  almost  every  tribe.  The  Vic- 
tory Dance  was  not  made  by  the  Indians  of  northern 
California,  who  substituted  for  it  a  war  incitement  dance 
of  different  character.  Further,  a  tribe  having  the  tradition 
of  the  Victory  Dance  might  often  be  at  peace  and  go  for 
a  genen^ion  or  two  without  the  celebration.  But  a  ceremony 
which  i.  was  thought  necessary  to  make  for  each  girl  at 
puberty  was  obviously  due  to  be  performed  every  few 
years  e/in  among  a  small  group. 

Thex*  are  many  local  variations  in  the  Calif ornian  Ado- 
lescent Rite,  but  certain  of  its  features  emerge  with  con- 
stancy. These  traits  are  based  on  the  belief  that  the  girl 
who  is  at  this  moment  passing  from  childhood  to  maturity 
must  be  undergoing  a  critical  transition.  The  occasion  was 
considered  critical  not  only  for  her  but  for  the  community, 
and,  since  the  Indians'  outlook  was  limited,  for  the  whole 
of  their  little  world.  A  girl  who  at  this  period  did  not 
show  fortitude  to  hardship  would  be  forever  weak  and 
complaining:  therefore  she  fasted.  If  she  carried  wood  and 
water  industriously,  she  would  remain  a  good  worker  all 
her  life,  whereas  if  she  defaulted,  she  would  grow  up  a 
lazy  woman.  So  crucial,  in  fact,  was  this  moment,  that  she 
was  thought  extremely  potent  upon  her  surroundings,  as 
constituting  a  latent  danger.  If  she  looked  abroad  upon  the 
world,  oak  trees  might  become  barren  and  next  year's  crop 
of  acorns  fail,  or  the  salmon  refuse  to  ascend  the  river. 
Among  many  tribes,  therefore,  the  maturing  girl  was 
covered  with  a  blanket,  set  under  a  large  basket,  or  made 
to  wear  a  visor  of  feathers  over  her  eyes.  Others  had  her 
throw  her  hair  forward  and  keep  her  head  bowed.  She  was 
given  the  benefit  of  having  ancient  religious  songs  sung 
over  her,  and  dances  revolved  around  her.  night  after 
night.  Certain  additional  developments  of  the  ceremony 
were  locally  restricted.  Thus  it  was  only  in  the  south  that 
the  girl  was  put  into  a  pit  and  baked  in  hot  sand.  But  a 
aumber  of  specific  features  occur  from  the  north  to  the 


RELIGION  721 

south  end  of  the  state.  Among  these  are  the  following  rules. 
The  girl  must  not  eat  meal,  fat,  or  salt.  She  must  not 
scratch  her  head  with  her  fingers,  but  use  a  stick  or  bone 
implement  made  for  the  purpose.  She  must  not  look  at 
people;  and  she  should  be  sung  over. 

It  should  be  added  that  most  of  these  traits  of  the  Girls' 
Rite  recur  among  the  tribes  of  a  much  larger  area  than 
California,  including  those  of  Nevada  and  the  Great  Basin 
and  Pacific  coast  for  a  long  distance  north.  This  institution, 
then,  is  remarkably  widespread  and  has  preserved  nearly 
the  same  fundamental  features  wherever  it  is  found. 

THE  FIRST  PERIOD 

What  can  be  inferred  from  this  uniformity  and  broad 
diffusion?  It  seems  fair  to  try  the  presumptive  conclusion  of 
antiquity.  A  continent  is  likely  to  be  older  than  an  island. 
A  family  of  animals  has  probably  existed  longer  than  a 
single  species.  A  world-wide  custom  normally  is  more  an- 
cient than  one  that  is  confined  to  a  narrow  locality.  If  it 
spread  from  one  people  to  another,  this  diffusion  over  the 
whole  earth  would  usually  require  a  long  time.  If  on  the 
other  hand  such  a  custom  had  originated  separately  among 
each  people,  its  very  universality  would  indicate  it  as  the 
response  to  a  deep  and  primary  need,  and  such  a  need 
would  presumably  manifest  itself  early  in  the  history  of  the 
race. 

It  is  true  that  one  may  not  place  too  positive  a  reliance 
on  evidence  of  this  sort.  The  history  of  civilization  furnishes 
some  contrary  examples.  Thus  the  Persian  fire-worshiping 
religion  is  older  than  Christianity,  yet  is  now  confined  to  the 
Parsees  of  Bombay  and  to  one  or  two  small  groups  in 
Persia.  The  use  of  tobacco  has  spread  over  the  eastern 
hemisphere  in  four  centuries.  Still,  such  cases  are  excep- 
tional; and  in  the  absence  of  specific  contrary  considera- 
tions, heavy  weight  must  be  given  to  wideness  of  occurrence 
in  rating  antiquity. 
\lt  the  Girls'  Rite  were  identical  among  all  the  tribes  that 


722  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

practice  it,  there  might  be  warrant  for  the  conclusion  that 
it  had  originated  only  a  few  centuries  ago  but  had  for 
some  reason  been  carried  from  one  tribe  to  another  with 
such  unusual  rapidity  as  not  to  have  been  subjected  to  the 
alterations  of  time.  Yet  the  fact  that  the  essential  uni- 
formity of  the  rite  is  overlaid  by  so  much  local  diversity — 
as  for  instance  the  baking  custom  restricted  to  southern 
California — indicated  the  unlikelihood  of  such  a  rapid  and 
late  diffusion.  The  ceremony  is  much  in  the  status  of  Chris- 
tianity, which,  in  the  course  of  its  long  history,  has  also 
become  broken  into  national  varieties  or  sects,  all  of  which 
however  remain  Christian. 

The  facts  then  warrant  this  tentative  conclusion:  that 
the  Girls'  Rite  is  representative  of  the  oldest  stratum  of 
religion  that  can  be  traced  among  the  Indians  of  California 
—their  "First  Period."  The  Victory  Dance  would  presum- 
ably be  of  nearly  but  not  quite  the  same  antiquity. 

THE   SECOND   PERIOD:   MOURNING   ANNIVERSARY   AND  FIRST- 
SALMON  RITE 

Pursuing  the  same  method  farther,  let  us  look  for  rituals 
that  are  less  widely  spread  than  these  but  yet  not  confined 
to  small  districts.  The  outstanding  one  in  this  class  is  the 
Mourning  Anniversary.  This  is  a  custom  of  bewailing  each 
year,  or  at  intervals  of  a  few  years,  those  members  of  the 
tribe  who  have  died  since  the  last  performance,  and  the 
burning  of  large  quantities  of  wealth — shell  money,  baskets, 
and  the  like— in  their  memory.  Each  family  offers  for  its 
own  dead,  but  people  of  special  consideration  are  honored 
by  having  images  made  of  them  and  consumed  with 
property.  Until  the  anniversary  has  been  performed,  the 
relatives  of  the  dead  remain  mourners.  After  it,  they  are 
free  to  resume  normal  enjoyment  of  life;  and  the  name  of 
the  deceased,  which  until  then  has  been  strictly  taboo,  may 
now  be  bestowed  on  a  baby  in  the  family. 

The  Mourning  Anniversary  as  here  outlined  is  practiced 
with  little  variation,  less  than  the  Girls'  Rite  shows,  through' 


RELIGION  723 

out  southern  California  and  a  great  part  of  central  Cali' 
fornia,  especially  the  Sierra  Nevada  district.  Its  distribution 
thus  covers  more  than  half  of  the  state.  But  it  has  not 
spread  elsewhere  except  to  a  small  area  in  southern  Nevada 
and  western  Arizona. 

In  northern  California  the  Mourning  Anniversary  is  lack- 
ing. It  is  not  that  the  Indians  here  fail  to  mourn  their  dead. 
In  fact,  they  frequently  bewail  them  for  a  longer  time  than 
most  civilized  peoples  think  necessary.  They  may  bury  or 
burn  some  property  with  the  corpse.  But  they  do  not  prac- 
tice the  regular  public  commemoration  of  the  southerly 
tribes.  They  do  not  assiduously  accumulate  wealth  for 
months  or  years  in  order  to  throw  it  into  a  communal  fire 
at  the  end.  And  they  do  not  make  images  of  their  dead 
In  fact,  they  would  be  shocked  at  the  idea  as  indelicate,  il 
not  impious.  Is  there  anything  in  this  northern  part  ol 
California  that  takes  the  place  of  the  anniversary  ? 

Not  as  a  psychological  equivalent;  but  as  regards  dis- 
tribution, there  is.  This  is  the  custom,  established  in  northern 
California  and  parts  of  Oregon,  for  a  leading  shaman  or 
medicine-man  to  conduct  a  ceremony  at  the  beginning  of 
each  year's  salmon  run.  Until  he  had  done  this,  no  one 
fished  (or  salmon  or  ate  them.  If  any  got  caught,  they  were 
carefully  returned  to  the  river.  When  the  medicine-man 
had  gone  through  his  secret  rites,  he  caught  and  ate  the 
first  fish  of  the  year.  After  this,  the  season  was  open.  To 
eat  salmon  no  longer  brought  illness  and  disaster  as  it  was 
thought  that  it  would  a  few  days  earlier.  Moreover,  the 
prayers  or  formulas  recited  by  the  shaman  propitiated  the 
salmon  and  caused  them  to  run  abundantly,  so  that  every 
one  had  plenty.  There  is  clearly  a  communal  motive  in  the 
rite,  even  though  its  performance  was  entrusted  to  an  in- 
dividual. 

The  one  specific  element  common  to  the  Mourning  An- 
niversary and  this  First-salmon  Rite  is  their  connection  with 
the  natural  year,  tne  cycle  of  the  seasons,  a  trait  necessarily 
lacking  in  the  Girls'  Rite  with  its  intimately  personal  char- 


724  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

acter.  Because  of  this  common  feature;  because,  also,  neither 
of  these  two  rituals  is  as  widespread  as  the  Girls'  Rite  and 
yet  between  them  they  cover  the  whole  of  California  with 
substantially  mutual  exclusiveness,  it  seems  fair  to  assume 
that  they  both  originated  at  a  later  time  than  the  Girls' 
Rite,  but  still  in  fairly  remote  antiquity.  They  may  there- 
fore be  provisionally  assigned  to  a  Second  Period  of  the 
prehistory  of  California. 

ERA   OF  REGIONAL  DIFFERENTIATION 

It  is  now  necessary  to  return  to  the  four  regional  divisions 
»r  sub-culture-areas  of  the  modern  tribes  of  California.  Since 
the  Northwestern  one  affiliated  with  extensive  North  Pacific 
culture,  and  those  of  Southern  California  and  the  Colo- 
rado River  with  the  great  culture  of  the  Southwest,  many 
of  their  customs  must  have  originated  in  those  parts  of 
these  two  culture-areas  which  lie  outside  of  California.  Even 
if  the  northern  and  southern  Californians  "lent"  as  well 
as  "borrowed"  inventions  and  institutions,  they  must  on  the 
whole  have  received  or  learned  or  imitated  more  in  the 
interchange  than  they  imparted.  This  is  clear  from  the  fact 
that  the  Indians  of  British  Columbia  are  more  advanced 
in  their  manufacturing  ability,  richer  in  variety  of  tools  and 
utensils,  and  more  elaborate  in  their  organization  of  society, 
than  those  of  Northwestern  California;  and  a  similar  rela- 
tion of  superiority  and  priority  exists  between  the  Pueblos 
T)f  New  Mexico  and  Arizona  and  the  Southern  California 
tribes.  In  other  words,  a  s.ream  of  civilizational  influences 
has  evidently  run  from  southern  Alaska  and  British  Colum- 
bia southward  along  the  coast  as  far  as  Northwestern 
California,  and  another  from  the  town-dwelling  Pueblos 
to  the  village-inhabiting  tribes  of  Southern  California,  in 
much  the  same  way  that  civilization  flowed  from  ancient 
Babylonia  into  Palestine,  from  Egypt  into  Crete,  from 
Greece  to  Rome,  from  Rome  to  Gaul  and  Britain,  from 
western  Europe  to  the  Americas  after  their  discovery,  and 
from  the  Christian  to  the  non-Christian  nations  of  to-day. 


RELIGION  725 

Somewhere  in  the  unraveling  o£  the  prehistory  of  Cali- 
fornia the  first  indications  of  these  streams  from  the  outside 
should  be  encountered. 

They  are  not  manifest  in  the  two  periods  which  have  so 
far  been  established.  The  distribution  of  the  Girls'  Rite 
of  the  First  Period  and  of  the  Mourning  Anniversary  and 
First-salmon  Rite  of  the  Second,  does  not  coincide  with  the 
major  culture-areas  of  the  continent.  The  Southwest,  for 
instance,  from  which  the  modern  southern  Californians 
have  received  so  much,  does  not  possess  any  of  these  cere- 
monies. The  Southwest  culture  therefore  evidently  origi- 
nated, or  began  to  take  on  its  recent  aspect,  or  at  least 
to  influence  Southern  California,  chiefly  after  the  two  periods 
had  passed  by  in  which  these  ceremonies  became  estab- 
lished in  California.  The  Girls'  Rite,  to  be  sure,  extends 
up  the  Pacific  coast  into  Alaska.  Yet  this  is  more  widespread 
than  the  North  Pacific  Coast  culture,  since  this  has  its 
southerly  limit  in  Northwestern  California,  whereas  the 
ceremony  is  universal  as  far  as  to  the  southern  end  of  the 
state,  besides  occurring  inland  throughout  the  Great  Basin 
and  Plateau  regions.  Being  more  widely  spread  than  the 
Coast  culture,  the  Girls'  Rite  is  presumptively  more  ancient. 

The  beginnings  of  the  four  modern  types  of  California 
native  culture  must  thus  evidently  be  looked  for  at  about 
the  point  now  reached  in  our  reconstruction.  At  first  there 
was  a  single  very  widespread  ceremony;  then  two  less 
widely  diffused  ones;  the  next  logical  step  in  development 
would  have  been  the  growth  of  a  still  larger  number  of 
ceremonies  or  ritual  systems.  These,  on  account  of  their 
greater  recency,  and  perhaps  on  account  of  conflicting  with 
one  another,  would  have  spread  only  over  comparatively 
small  areas.  Let  us  therefore  assume  that  to  this  Third 
Period  belonged  the  beginnings  of  the  Wealth-display  dances 
of  the  Northwestern  Indians  which  are  coupled  with 
the  idea  of  world  renovation;  the  so-called  Kuksu  dances 
made  among  the  Central  Californians  *by  members  of  a 
secret  society;  and  the  series  of  long  singings  that  the  Colo- 


726  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

rado  River  tribes  are  addicted  to  and  believe  they  have 
miraculously  dreamed. 

Of  course,  the  idea  could  scarcely  be  entertained  that 
these  four  local  systems  sprang  into  existence  full-fledged. 
They  are  complicated  sets  of  rituals,  quite  different  from 
the  simple  Girls'  Rite  and  Mourning  Anniversary.  They 
must  have  grown  up  gradually  from  more  meager  begin- 
nings and  have  been  a  considerable  time  reaching  their 
present  elaboration.  It  would  thus  seem  justifiable  to  add 
not  only  one  but  two  further  periods  of  religious  growth, 
in  the  earlier  of  which — the  Third — these  ceremonial  sys- 
tems of  the  historic  Indians  began  their  development, 
whereas  in  the  later  or  Fourth  they  achieved  it. 

THIRD  AND  FOURTH  PERIODS  IN  CENTRAL  CALIFORNIA 
KUKSU  AND  HESI 

For  instance,  in  the  Central  California  sub-culture-area  a 
series  of  tribes  possess  a  society  to  which  young  men  are 
admitted  only  after  a  double  initiation  with  formal  teaching 
by  their  elders,  the  first  initiation  coming  in  boyhood,  the 
second  soon  after  puberty.  The  society  holds  great  four-day 
dances  in  large  earth-covered  houses.  Time  is  beaten  to  the 
dance  and  song  with  rattles  of  split  sticks,  and  stamped  with 
the  feet  on  a  great  log  drum.  The  dancers  wear  showy 
feather  costumes  which  disguise  them  to  the  uninitiated 
women,  children,  and  strangers,  who  take  them  to  be  spirits 
of  old  who  have  come  to  exhibit  themselves  for, the  good 
of  the  people.  There  may  be  as  many  as  twelve  divinities 
represented  in  this  way,  each  with  his  distinctive  name 
and  dress.  One  of  the  most  prominent  of  these  is  the  god 
or  "first-man"  Kuksu,  the  founder  of  the  sacred  rites,  after 
whom  the  entire  system  has  been  named  the  "Kuksu  Cult." 

The  tribes  participating  in  the  Kuksu  Cult  are  the  Patwin, 
nearer  Maidu,  Porno,  Yuki,  Miwok,  and  several  others. 
They  occupy  an  are?  which  may  be  described  as  the  heart 
of  California;  namely,  the  districts  adjoining  the  lower  Sac- 
ramento and  San  Joaquin  rivers  and  the  Bay  of  San  Fran* 


RELIGION  727 

Cisco  into  which  the  two  streams  pour  the  drainage  ol 
the  great  interior  valley. 

Beyond  the  Kuksu-dancing  tribes  there  are  others,  like 
the  farther  Maidu,  the  Wailaki,  and  some  of  the  Yokuts, 
among  whom  the  medicine-men  are  wont  to  gather  for 
public  demonstration  of  their  magical  prowess.  Thus,  they 
assemble  for  a  competition  of  "throwing"  sickness  into  one 
another,  or  to  charm  the  rattlesnakes  so  that  they  can  be 
handled  and  that  no  one  in  the  tribe  may  be  bitten  during 
the  ensuing  year.  In  these  gatherings  there  is  the  idea  of 
an  association  of  people  endowed  with  particular  powers 
and  operating  more  or  less  jointly  for  the  benefit  of  the 
community.  In  short,  this  fringe  of  Central  tribes  beyond 
the  border  of  the  Kuksu  Cult  evince  some  of  the  psy- 
chology and  motives  of  the  Cult,  but  without  the  definite 
organization  of  the  latter,  and  also  without  some  of  its 
specific  practices,  such  as  god-impersonation.  These  gather- 
ings of  the  medicine  men  thus  look  as  if  they  might  have 
been  the  simple  and  generalized  substratum  out  of  which 
the  -Kuksu  Cult  grew  by  a  process  of  gradual  formaliza- 
tion  and  ritualistic  elaboration.  This  conclusion  is  corrobo- 
rated by  the  distribution.  It  is  the  tribes  at  the  ends  of  the 
great  interior  valley,  or  in  the  hills  above  it,  whose  rites 
are  of  this  loose  type,  while  in  the  center  are  the  true  Kuksu- 
dancing  groups.  There  is  a  periphery  of  low  organization 
and  a  core  of  high  organization.  According  to  our  previous 
rule,  recency  in  acquisition  but  antiquity  of  stage  pertain 
to  the  marginal  as  the  more  widely  distributed;  the  geo- 
graphically more  compact  nucleus  representing  an  earlier  be- 
ginning but  a  later  stage  of  present  development.  That  is,  it  is 
reasonable  to  believe  that  the  Kuksu  Cult  grew  out  of  semi- 
formal  gatherings  of  medicine-men  such  as  still  survive  in 
the  outlying  districts—the  "backwoods"  of  the  Central  area. 

Evidently  if  a  still  later  religious  movement  developed 
as  an  elaboration  or  addition  of  the  Kuksu  Cult,  it  should 
be  less  widely  diffused  than  this  system,  forming  a  sort  of 
nucleus  within  the  core.  Actually  there  is  such  a  later 


728  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

growth.  This  is  the  Hesi  Dance,  confined  to  the  Patwin 
and  Maidu  of  the  lower  Sacramento  Valley,  and  regarded 
by  them  as  the  most  sacred  portion  of  the  Kuksu  system. 
It  is  the  one  of  all  their  rituals  into  which  the  largest  number 
of  differently  garbed  performers  enter,  and  is  made  twice 
a  year  as  the  spectacular  beginning  and  finale  of  the  series 
of  lesser  Kuksu  dances. 

The  history  of  native  ritual  in  Central  California  thus  is 
fairly  plain.  Early  in  the  Third  Period,  perhaps  already  dur- 
ing the  Second,  the  specialists  in  religion,  the  medicine-men, 
had  acquired  the  habit  of  giving  public  demonstrations. 
This  resulted  in  a  bond  of  fellowship  among  them- 
selves and  a  sense  of  exclusiveness  toward  the  community 
as  a  whole.  Out  of  this  sense  there  was  elaborated  during 
the  Third  Period,  somewhere  about  the  lower  Sacramento 
Valley,  the  idea  of  an  organized  secret  society  with  initiated 
members.  The  performances  became  more  and  more  elabo- 
rate, and  the  production  of  proof  of  supernatural  power 
gradually  crystallized  into  impersonations  of  deities.  By  the 
beginning  of  the  Fourth  Period,  the  Kuksu  Cult  had  been 
established.  During  this  period,  it  was  carried  from  the 
center  of  origin  to  its  farthest  limits,  whereas  at  the  center 
the  Hesi  Dance  was  evolved  as  a  characteristic  addition. 
If  native  development  had  been  able  to  proceed  undis- 
turbed, if,  for  instance,  the  coming  of  the  white  race  had 
been  deferred  a  few  centuries  longer,  the  Hesi  might  have 
followed  the  diffusion  of  the  earlier  Kuksu  Cult;  and  while 
this  new  spread  was  in  progress,  the  Patwin  who  form 
the  central  nucleus  of  the  whole  Kuksu-Hesi  movement 
might  have  been  devising  a  still  newer  increment  to  the 
system. 

THIRD  AND  FOURTH  PERIODS  IN  SOUTHERN  CALIFORNIA 
JIMSONWEED  AND  CHUNGICHNISH 

The  Southern  California  Jimsonweed  Rites  are  quite  dis- 
tinct from  the  Kuksu  Cult  in  their  regalia,  dances,  and 
teachings,  but  are  also  based  on  initiation.  It  may  there- 


RELIGION  729 

fore  be  concluded,  first,  that  they  grew  up  contemporane- 
ously in  the  Third  Period;  and  next,  that  they  sprang  out 
of  the  same  soil,  a  growing  tendency  of  the  medicine-men 
toward  professional  association.  The  selection  of  the  jim- 
sonweed  as  the  distinctive  element  in  the  South  seems  to 
have  been  due  to  influences  from  Mexico  and  the  South- 
west. The  tribes  of  Arizona  and  New  Mexico  use  the 
plant  in  religion,  the  Aztecs  ascribed  supernatural  powers 
to  it,  and  the  modern  Tepecano  of  Mexico  pray  to  it  like 
a  god.  The  Spanish-American  name  for  the  plant,  toloache, 
is  an  Aztec  word.  Because  Mexican  civilization  was  so 
much  the  more  advanced,  it  seems  likely  that  the  use  of 
jimsonweed  originated  in  Mexico,  was  carried  into  the 
Southwest,  and  from  there  spread  into  Southern  California 
—perhaps  at  the  receptive  moment  when  the  medicine- 
men's associations  were  drawing  more  closely  together  and 
feeling  the  need  of  some  powerful  emotional  element  to 
lend  an  impetus  to  their  cults. 

While  the  Jimsonweed  religion  was  followed  by  Cali« 
fornian  tribes  from  the  Yokuts  on  the  north  to  the  Diegueno 
on  the  south,  its  most  elaborate  forms  occur  among  groups 
near  the  center  of  Southern  California,  especially  the  Gabri- 
elino  of  Los  Angeles  and  Catalina  Island.  This  group  asso- 
ciates the  greatest  number  of  rituals  and  dances  with  the 
Jimsonweed  Society,  and  is  therefore  likely  to  have  had 
the  leading  share  in  the  working  out  of  the  religion. 

By  the  opening  of  the  Fourth  Period  the  Gabrielino  must 
have  had  the  Jimsonweed  Rites  pretty  fully  developed,  while 
the  peripheral  tribes  like  the  Yokuts  and  Diegueno  were 
perhaps  only  learning  the  religious  use  of  the  drug.  The 
Gabrielino  however  did  not  stand  still  during  this  Fourth 
Period,  and  while  the  original  rather  simple  Jimsonweed 
Rites  spread  north  and  south,  they  were  adding  a  new 
element.  This  is  the  Chungichnish  Cult,  based  on  belief 
in  a  great,  wise,  powerful  god  of  this  name,  to  whom  are 
due  the  final  ordaining  of  the  world  and  the  institution  of 
the  Jimsonweed  Rites  and  their  correct  performance.  Asso- 


73°  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

elated  with  this  belief  is  the  use  of  the  "ground  painting." 
This  is  a  large  picture,  usually  of  the  world,  drawn  in 
colored  earths,  sands,  seeds,  or  paints,  on  the  floor  of  the 
sacred  enclosure  in  which  the  Jimsonweed  rituals  were 
practiced.  This  ground  painting  served  both  as  an  altar 
for  the  rites  and  as  a  means  of  instructing  the  initiates. 
The  custom  of  this  sacred  painting  became  firmly  estab- 
lished among  the  Gabrielino,  and  is  known  to  have  spread 
from  them  to  other  tribes,  such  as  the  Luiseno.  From  these 
it  has  been  carried,  in  part  during  the  last  century,  after 
the  white  man  was  in  the  land,  to  still  more  remote  tribes 
like  the  Diegueno,  who  recognize  the  Gabrielino  island  of 
Catalina  as  the  source  of  the  Chungichnish  Cult  and  sing 
its  songs  to  Gabrielino  words. 

THIRD  AND  FOURTH  PERIODS  ON  THE  LOWER  COLORADO 
DREAM   SINGING 

In  Southeastern  California,  among  the  tribes  of  the  Lower 
Colorado  River,  the  Third  and  Fourth  Periods  are  less 
easily  distinguished.  The  reason  for  this  seems  to  be  the 
fact  that  religion  developed  among  these  tribes  less  through 
the  invention  or  establishment  of  new  elements,  than  by 
the  lopping  away  of  older  ones,  with  the  result  of  a  rather 
narrow  specialization  on  the  few  elements  that  were  re- 
tained. Tribes  like  the  Yuma  and  Mohave  scarcely  danced 
for  religious  purposes.  The  special  costumes,  showy  feather 
headdresses,  disguises,  musical  instruments,  sand-paintings, 
altars,  and  ritualistic  processions  that  mark  the  Kuksu  and 
Jimsonweed  cults,  were  lacking  among  them.  They  did  ad- 
here to  the  widespread  and  ancient  idea  that  dreams  are 
a  source  of  evidence  of  supernatural  power.  In  short,  their 
religion  turned  inward,  not  outward.  Instead  of  their 
medicine-men  forming  a  society  based  on  initiation,  the 
Colorado  River  tribes  came  to  feel  that  every  one  might  be 
a  medicine-man  according  to  his  dreams.  They  put  em- 
phasis on  these  internal  experiences.  The  result  has  been 
that  they  believe  that  a  legend  can  be  true  and  sacred  only 


RELIGION  73* 

if  it  has  been  dreamed,  and  that  a  man's  songs  should  be 
acquired  in  the  same  way.  Religion,  therefore,  is  an  intensely 
individualistic  affair  among  them.  Since  no  two  men  can 
dream  quite  alike,  no  two  Yumas  or  Mohaves  tell  their 
myths  or  sing  their  song  cycles  identically.  This  cast  to 
their  religion  is  so  strong  that  it  looks  to  be  fairly  ancient. 
The  beginnings  of  this  local  type  of  religion  may  therefore 
be  set  in  the  Third  Period.  As  for  the  Fourth  Period,  it  may 
be  inferred  that  this  chiefly  accentuated  the  tendencies  de- 
veloped in  the  Third,  the  dream  basis  augmenting  as  cere- 
monialism dropped  away. 

NORTHWESTERN   CALIFORNIA!  WORLD-RENEWAL  AND  WEALTH- 
DISPLAY 

The  Third  and  Fourth  Periods  are  also  not  readily  dis- 
tinguishable in  Northwestern  California.  Yet  here  the  root* 
ing  of  these  two  eras  in  the  Second  is  clearer.  We  have  seen 
that  all  through  northern  California  there  exists  the  First- 
salmon  Rite  conducted  by  a  prominent  medicine-man  of 
each  locality;  and  we  have  referred  the  probable  origin  of 
this  rite  to  the  Second  Period.  The  modern  Indians  of 
Northwestern  California  consider  their  great  dances  of  ten 
or  twelve  days'  duration  as  being  essentially  the  showy 
public  accompaniment  of  an  extremely  sacred  and  secret 
act  performed  by  a  single  priest  who  recites  a  magical 
formula.  His  purpose  in  some  instances  is  to  open  the 
salmon  season,  in  others  to  inaugurate  the  corn  crop,  in 
still  others  to  make  new  fire  for  the  community.  But  what- 
ever the  particular  object,  it  is  always  believed  that  he  re- 
news something  important  to  the  world.  He  "makes  the 
world,"  as  the  Indians  call  it,  for  another  year.  These  New- 
year  or  World-renewing  functions  of  the  rites  of  the  modern 
Indians  of  Northwestern  California  thus  appear  to  lead 
back  by  a  natural  transition  to  the  First-salmon  Rite  which 
is  so  widely  spread  in  Northern  California.  Evidently  this 
specific  rite  that  originated  in  the  Second  Period  was  de- 
veloped in  the  Northwest  during  the  Third  and  Fourth 


732  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

eras  by  being  broadened  in  its  objective  and  having  attached 
to  it  certain  characteristic  dances. 

These  dances  are  the  Deerskin  and  Jumping  Dances. 
They  differ  from  those  of  the  Central  and  Southern  tribes 
in  that  every  one  may  participate  in  them.  There  is  no 
idea  of  a  society  with  membership,  and  hence  no  exclusion 
of  the  uninitiated.  In  fact,  the  dances  are  primarily  occa- 
sions for  displays  of  wealth,  which  are  regarded  as  successful 
in  proportion  to  the  size  of  the  audience.  The  albino  deer- 
skins, ornaments  of  woodpecker  scalps,  furs,  and  great 
blades  of  flint  and  obsidian  which  are  carried  in  these 
dances,  constitute  the  treasures  of  these  tribes.  The  dances 
are  the  best  opportunity  of  the  rich  men  to  produce  their 
heirlooms  before  the  public  and  in  that  way  signalize  the 
honor  of  ownership — which  is  one  of  the  things  dearest  in 
life  to  the  Northwest  California!!. 

Another  feature  of  these  Northwestern  dances  which 
marks  them  off  from  the  Central  and  Southern  ones  is  the 
fact  that  they  can  only  be  held  in  certain  spots.  A  Kuksu 
dance  is  rightly  made  indoors,  but  any  properly  built  dance 
house  will  answer  for  its  performance.  \  Yurok  or  Hupa 
however  would  consider  it  fundamentally  wrong  to  make 
a  Deerskin  Dance  other  than  on  the  accepted  spot  where 
his  great-grandfafher  had  always  seen  it.  The  reason  for 
chis  attachment  to  the  spot  seems  to  be  his  conviction  that 
the  most  essential  part  of  the  dance  is  a  secret,  magical  rite 
enacted  only  in  the  specified  place  because  the  formula  re- 
cited as  its  nucleus  mentions  that  spot. 

In  the  Northwest  we  again  seem  to  be  able  to  recognize, 
as  in  the  Central  and  Southern  regions,  an  increasing 
contraction  of  area  for  each  successively  developed  ritual. 
Whereas  the  First-salmon  Rite  of  the  Second  Period  covers 
the  whole  northern  third  of  California  and  parts  of  Oregon, 
the  Wealth-display  dances  and  World-renewing  rites  of 
the  Third  and  Fourth  Periods  occur  only  in  Northwestern 
California.  The  Jumping  Dance  was  performed  at  a  dozen 
or  more  villages,  the  slightly  more  splendid  Deerskin  Dance 


RELIGION  733 

only  in  eight.  This  suggests  that  the  Jumping  Dance  is  the 
earlier,  possibly  going  back  to  the  Third  Period,  whereas 
the  Deerskin  Dance  more  probably  originated  during  the 
Fourth. 

SUMMARY   OF  RELIGIOUS  DEVELOPMENT 

The  history  of  religious  cults  among  the  Indians  of  Cali* 
fornia  seems  thus  to  be  reconstructible,  with  some  prob' 
ability  of  correctness  in  its  essential  outlines,  as  a  progressive 
differentiation  during  four  fairly  distinct  periods.  During 
these  four  eras,  the  most  typical  cults  gradually  changed 
from  a  personal  to  a  communal  aim,  ceremonies  grew  more 
numerous  as  well  as  more  elaborate,  influences  from  the 
outside  affected  the  tribes  within  California,  and  local  dif- 
ferences increased  until  the  original  rather  close  uniformity 
had  been  replaced  by  four  quite  distinct  systems  of  cults, 
separated  in  most  cases  by  transitional  areas  in  which  the 
less  specialized  developments  of  the  earlier  stages  have  been 
preserved. 

OTHER   PHASES   OF   CULTURE 

A  natural  question  arises  here.  Does  this  reconstructed 
history  apply  only  to  ritual  cults,  or  can  a  parallel  develop- 
ment be  traced  for  other  elements  of  religion,  for  industries, 
inventions,  and  economic  relations,  for  social  institutions, 
for  knowledge  and  art?  The  findings  arc  that  this  history 
holds  for  all  phases  of  native  culture.  Material  and  social 
development  progressed  much  as  did  religion.  Each  suc- 
ceeding stage  brought  in  new  implements  and  customs, 
these  became  on  the  whole  more  specialized  as  well  as 
more  numerous,  and  differed  more  and  more  locally  in  the 
four  sub-culture-areas.  Thus  the  plain  or  self  bow  belongs 
demonstrably  to  an  earlier  stratum  than  the  sinew-backed 
one,  basketry  precedes  pottery,  twined  basketry  is  earlier 
than  coiled,  the  stone  mortar  antedates  -the  slab  with  bas- 
ketry mortar  as  the  oval  metate  does  the  squared  one,  earth- 
covered  sweat  houses  are  older  than  plank  roofed  ones, 


734  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

and  totemism  may  have  become  established  before  the  divi- 
sion of  society  into  exogamic  moieties.  It  would  be  a  long 
story  to  adduce  the  evidence  for  each  of  these  determinations 
and  all  others  that  could  be  made.  It  will  perhaps  suffice 
to  say  that  the  principles  by  which  they  are  arrived  at  are  the 
same  as  those  which  have  guided  us  in  the  inquiry  into 
religion. 

OUTLINE  OF   THE  CULTURE  HISTORY  OF  CALIFORNIA 

In  general  terms,  the  net  results  of  our  inquiry  can  be 
stated  thus. 

First  Period:  a  simple,  meager  culture,  nearly  uniform 
throughout  California,  similar  to  the  cultures  of  adjacent 
regions,  and  only  slightly  influenced  by  these. 

Second  Period:  definite  influences  from  the  North  Pacific 
Coast  and  the  Southwest,  affecting  respectively  the  north- 
ern third  and  southern  two-thirds  of  California,  and  thus 
jeading  to  a  first  differentiation  of  consequence. 

Third  Period:  more  specific  influences  from  outside,  re- 
sulting in  the  formation  of  four  local  types:  the  North- 
western, under  North  Pacific  influences;  the  Southern  and 
Lower  Colorado  under  stimulus  of  the  Southwest;  and 
the  Central,  farthest  remote  from  both  &ad  thus  developing 
most  slowly  but  also  most  independently. 

Fourth  Period:  consummation  of  the  four  local  types. 
Influences  from  outside  continue  operative,  but  in  the  main 
the  lines  of  local  development  entered  upon  in  the  previous 
era  are  followed  out,  reaching  their  highest  specialization 
in  limited  tracts  central  to  each  area. 

This  summary  not  only  outlines  the  course  of  culture 
history  in  native  California:  it  also  explains  why  there  are 
both  widely  uniform  and  narrowly  localized  culture  ele- 
ments in  the  region.  It  thus  answers  the  question  why 
from  one  aspect  the  tribes  of  the  state  seem  so  much  alike 
and  from  another  angle  they  appear  endlessly  different. 
They  are  alike  largely  in  so  far  as  they  have  retained  certain 
old  common  traits.  They  are  different  to  the  degree  that 


RELIGION  735 

they  have  severally  added  traits  of  later  and  localized  de- 
velopment. 

THE  QUESTION  OF  DATING 

A  natural  question  is  how  long  these  periods  lasted.  As 
regards  accurate  dating,  there  is  only  one  possible  answer: 
we  do  not  know  nearly  enough.  Moreover  modern  his- 
torians, who  possess  infinitely  fuller  records  on  chronology 
than  anthropologists  can  ever  hope  to  have  on  primitive 
peoples,  tend  more  and  more  to  lay  little  weight  on  specific 
dates.  They  may  set  476  A.D.,  the  so-called  fall  of  Rome, 
as  the  point  of  demarcation  between  ancient  and  medieval 
history  because  it  is  sometimes  useful,  especially  in  ele- 
mentary presentation,  to  speak  definitely.  But  no  historian 
believes  that  any  profound  change  took  place  between  475 
and  477  A.D.  That  is  an  impression  beginners  may  get  from 
the  way  history  is  sometimes  taught.  Yet  it  is  well  recog- 
nized that  certain  slow,  progressive  changes  were  going 
on  uninterruptedly  for  centuries  before  and  after;  and 
that  if  the  date  476  A.D.  is  arbitrarily  inserted  into  the  middle 
of  this  development,  it  is  because  to  do  so  is  conventionally 
convenient  and  with  full  understanding  that  the  event 
marked  was  dramatic  or  symbolic  rather  than  intrinsically 
significant.  In  fact,  the  value  of  a  historian's  work  lies  pre- 
cisely in  his  ability  to  show  that  the  forces  which  shaped 
medieval  history  were  already  at  work  during  the  period 
of  ancient  times  and  that  the  causes  which  had  molded 
the  Roman  empire  continued  to  operate  in  some  degree  for 
many  centuries  after  the  fall  of  Rome. 

Nevertheless,  there  is  no  doubt  that  occasional  dates  have 
the  virtue  of  impressing  the  mind  with  the  vividness  which 
specific  statements  alone  possess.  Also,  if  the  results  of 
anthropological  studies  are  to  be  connected  with  the  written 
records  of  history  proper,  at  least  tentative  dates  must  be 
formulated,  though  of  course  in  a  case  like  this  of  the 
periods  of  native  culture  in  California  it  is  understood  that 
all  chronology  is  subject  to  a  wide  margin  of  error. 


736  THEMAKINGOFMAN 

History  provides  a  start  toward  a  computation,  although 
its  aid  is  a  short  one.  California  began  to  be  settled  about 
1770.  The  last  tribes  were  not  brought  into  contact  with 
the  white  man  until  1850.  As  early,  however,  as  1540 
Alarcon  rowed  and  towed  up  the  lower  Colorado  and  wrote 
an  account  of  the  tribes  he  encountered  there.  Two  years 
later,  Cabrillo  visited  the  coast  and  island  tribes  of  south- 
ern California,  and  wintered  among  them.  In  1579  Drake 
spent  some  weeks  on  shore  among  the  central  Californians 
and  a,  member  of  his  crew  has  left  a  brief  but  spirited 
description  of  them.  In  all  three  instances  these  old  accounts 
of  native  customs  tally  with  remarkable  fidelity  with  all  that 
has  been  ascertained  in  regard  to  the  recent  tribes  of  the 
same  regions.  That  is,  native  culture  has  evidently  changed 
very  little  since  the  sixteenth  century.  The  local  sub-cultures 
already  showed  substantially  their  present  form;  which 
means  that  the  Fourth  Period  must  have  been  well  estab- 
lished three  to  four  centuries  ago.  We  might  then  assign 
to  this  period  about  double  the  time  which  has  elapsed  since 
the  explorers  visited  California;  say,  seven  hundred  years. 
This  seems  a  conservative  figure,  which  would  put  the 
commencement  of  the  Fourth  Period  somewhere  about 
1200  A.D. 

All  the  remainder  must  be  reconstructed  by  projection. 
In  most  parts  of  the  world  for  which  there  are  continuous 
records,  it  is  found  that  civilization  usually  changes  more 
rapidly  as  time  goes  on.  While  this  is  not  a  rigorous  law,  it 
is  a  prevailing  tendency.  However,  let  us  apply  this  prin- 
ciple with  reserve,  and  assume  that  the  Third  ^eriod  was 
no  longer  than  the  Fourth.  Another  seven  hundred  years 
would  carry  back  to  500  A.D. 

Now,  however,  it  seems  reasonable  to  begin  to  lengthen 
our  periods  somewhat.  For  the  Second,  a  thousand  years 
does  not  appear  excessive;  approximately  from  500  B.C.  to 
500  A.D.  By  the  same  logic  the  First  Period  should  be  allowed 
from  a  thousand  to  fifteen  hundred  years.  It  might  be  wisest 
to  set  no  beginning,  at  all,  since  our  "First"  period  is  only 


RELIGION  73^ 

the  first  of  those  which  are  determinable  with  present 
knowledge.  Actually,  it  may  have  been  preceded  by  a  still 
more  primitive  era  on  which  as  yet  no  specific  evidence 
is  available.  It  can  however  be  suggested  that  by  2000  or 
1500  B.C.  the  beginnings  of  native  Californian  culture  as  we 
know  it  had  already  been  made. 

THE  EVIDENCE  OF   ARCHEOLOGY 

There  is  left  as  a  final  check  on  the  problem  of  age  a 
means  of  attack  which  under  favorable  circumstances  is 
sometimes  the  most  fruitful:  archa:ological  excavation,  espe- 
cially when  it  leads  to  stratigraphic  determination,  that  is, 
the  finding  of  different  but  superimposed  layers.  Unfor- 
tunately archeology  affords  only  limited  aid  in  California- 
much  less,  for  instance,  than  in  the  Southwest.  Nothing 
markedly  stratigraphical  has  been  discovered.  Pottery,  which 
has  usually  proved  the  most  serviceable  of  all  classes  of 
prehistoric  remains  for  working  out  sequences  of  culture 
and  chronologies,  is  unrepresented  in  the  greater  part  of 
California,  and  is  sparse  and  rather  recent  in  those  southern 
parts  in  which  it  docs  occur. 

Still,  archxological  excavation  has  brought  to  light  some 
thing.  It  has  shown  that  the  ancient  implements  found  in 
shellmounds  and  village  sites  in  Southern  California,  those 
from  the  shores  of  San  Francisco  Bay  in  Central  California, 
and  those  along  the  coast  of  Northwestern  California,  are 
distinct.  Certain  peculiar  types  of  artifacts  are  found  in 
each  of  these  regions,  are  found  only  there,  and  agree  closely 
with  objects  used  by  the  modern  tribes  of  the  same  districts, 
For  instance,  prehistoric  village  and  burial  sites  in  North- 
western  California  contain  long  blades  of  flaked  obsidian 
like  those  used  until  a  few  years  ago  by  the  Yurok  and 
Hupa.  Sites  in  Southern  California  have  brought  to  light 
soapstone  bowls  or  "ollas"  such  as  the  Spaniards  a  century 
ago  found  the  Gabrielino  and  Luiseno  Employing  in  cook* 
ing  and  in  Jimsonweed  administration.  Both  these  classei 
of  objects  arc  wanting  from  the  San  Francisco  Bay  shell 


738  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

mounds  and  among  the  recent  Central  Californian  tribes. 

It  may  thus  be  inferred  (i)  that  none  of  the  four  local 

cultures  was  ever  spread  much  more  widely  than  at  present; 

(2)  that  each  of  them  originated  mainly  on  the  spot;  and 

(3)  that  because  many  of  the  prehistoric  finds  lie  at  some 
depth,  the  local  cultures  are  of  respectable  antiquity — evi- 
dently at  least  a  thousand  years  old,  probably  more.  This 
fairly  confirms  the  estimate  that  the  differentiation  of  the 
local  cultures  of  the  Third  Period  commenced  not  later 
than  about  500  A.D. 

AGE  OF  THE  SHELLMOUNDS 

Archaeology  also  yields  certain  indications  as  to  the  total 
lapse  of  time  during  the  four  periods.  The  deposits  them- 
selves contribute  the  evidence.  Some  of  the  shellmounds  that 
line  the  ramifying  shores  of  San  Francisco  Bay  to  the  num- 
ber of  over  four  hundred  have  been  carefully  examined. 
These  mounds  are  refuse  accumulations.  They  were  not 
built  up  with  design,  but  grew  gradually  as  people  lived 
on  them  year  after  year,  because  much  of  the  food  of  their 
inhabitants  was  molluscs — chiefly  clams,  oysters,  and  mus- 
sels— whose  shells  were  thrown  outdoors  or  trodden  under 
foot.  Some  of  the  sites  were  camped  on  only  transiently, 
and  the  layers  of  refuse  never  grew  more  than  a  few  inches 
in  thickness.  Other  spots  were  evidently  inhabited  for  many 
centuries,  since  the  masses  of  shell  now  run  more  than 
thirty  feet  deep  and  hundreds  of  feet  long.  The  higher  such 
a  mound  grew,  the  better  it  drained  off.  One  side  of  it 
would  afford  shelter  from  the  prevailing  winds.  The  more 
regularly  it  came  to  be  lived  on,  the  more  often  would  the 
inhabitants  bring  their  daily  catch  home,  and,  without 
knowing  it,  thus  help  to  raise  and  improve  the  site  still 
further. 

Some  of  these  shellmounds  are  now  situated  high  and 
dry,  at  some  distance  above  tide  water.  Others  lie  on  the 
very  edge  of  the  bay,  and  several  of  these,  when  shafts 
were  sunk  into  them,  proved  to  extend  some  distance  below 


RELIGION  73^ 

mean  sea  level.  The  base  of  a  large  deposit  known  as  the 
Ellis  Landing  mound,  near  Richmond,  is  eighteen  feet 
below  high  tide  level;  of  one  on  Brooks  Island  near  by, 
seventeen  feet.  The  conclusion  is  that  the  sites  have  sunk 
at  least  seventeen  or  eighteen  feet  since  they  began  to  be 
inhabited.  The  only  alternative  explanation,  that  the  first 
settlers  put  their  houses  on  piles  over  the  water,  is  opposed 
by  several  facts.  The  shells  and  ashes  and  soil  of  the  Ellis 
Landing  mound  are  stratified  as  they  would  be  deposited 
on  land,  not  as  they  would  arrange  in  water.  There  are 
no  layers  of  mud,  remains  of  inedible  marine  animals,  or 
ripple  marks.  There  is  no  record  of  any  recent  Californian 
tribe  living  in  pile  dwellings;  the  shore  from  which  the 
mound  rises  is  unfavorably  situated  for  such  structures, 
being  open  and  exposed  to  storms.  Suitable  timber  for  piles 
grows  only  at  some  distance.  One  is  therefore  perforce 
driven  to  the  conclusion  that  this  mound  accumulated  on 
a  sinking  shore,  but  that  the  growth  of  the  deposit  was 
more  rapid  than  'the  rise  of  the  sea,  so  that  the  site  always 
remained  habitable. 

How  long  a  time  would  be  required  for  a  coast  to  sub- 
side eighteen  feet  is  a  question  for  geologists,  but  their 
reply  remains  indefinite.  A  single  earthquake  might  cause 
a  sudden  subsidence  of  several  feet,  or  again  the  change 
might  progress  at  the  rate  of  a  foot  or  only  an  inch  a 
century.  All  that  geologists  are  willing  to  state  is  that  the 
probability  is  high  of  the  subsidence  having  been  a  rather 
long  time  taking  place. 

The  archaeologists  have  tried  to  compute  the  age  of  Ellis 
Landing  mound  in  another  way.  When  it  was  first  ex- 
amined there  were  near  its  top  about  fifteen  shallow  de* 
pressions.  These  appear  to  be  the  remains  of  the  pits  over 
which  the  Indians  were  wont  to  build  their  dwellings.  A 
native  household  averages  about  7  inmates.  One  may  thus 
estimate  a  population  of  about  100  souls*  Numerous  quad- 
ruped bones  in  the  mound  prove  that  these  people  hunted: 
net  sinkers,  that  they  fished;  mortars  and  pestles,  that  they 


740  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

consumed  acorns  and  other  seeds.  Accordingly,  only  part 
of  their  subsistence,  and  probably  the  minor  part,  was  de- 
rived from  mollyscs.  Fifty  mussels  a  day  for  man,  woman, 
and  child  seem  a  fair  estimate  of  what  their  shellfish  food 
is  likely  to  have  aggregated.  This  would  mean  that  the 
shells  of  5,000  mussels  would  accumulate  on  the  site  daily. 
Laboratory  experiments  prove  that  5,000  such  shells,  with 
the  addition  of  the  same  percentage  of  ash  and  soil  as  occurs 
in  the  mound,  all  crushed  down  to  the  same  consistency 
of  compactness  as  the  body  of  the  mound  exhibits,  occupy 
a  volume  of  a  cubic  foot.  This  being  the  daily  increment,  die 
growth  of  the  mound  would  be  in  the  neighborhood  of 
365  feet  per  year.  Now  the  deposit  contains  roughly  a  mil- 
lion and  a  quarter  cubic  feet.  Dividing  this  figure  by  365, 
one  obtains  about  3,500  as  the  presumable  number  of  years 
required  to  accumulate  the  mound. 

This  result  may  not  be  accepted  too  literally.  It  is  the 
result  of  a  calculation  with  several  factors,  each  of  which  is 
only  tentative.  Had  the  population  been  260  instead  of  100, 
the  deposit  would,  with  the  other  terms  of  the  computation 
remaining  the  same,  have  built  up  twice  as  fast,  and  the 
3,500  years  would  have  to  be  cut  in  half.  On  the  other  hand, 
it  has  been  assumed  that  occupation  of  the  site  was  con- 
tinuous through  the  year.  Yet  all  that  is  known  of  the  habits 
of  the  Indians  makes  it  probable  that  the  mound  inhabitants 
were  accustomed  to  go  up  into  the  hills  and  camp  about 
half  the  time.  Allowance  for  this  factor  would  double  the 
3,500  years.  All  that  is  maintained  for  the  computed  age  is 
that  it  represents  a  conscientious  and  conservative  endeavor 
to  draw  a  conclusion  from  all  available  sources  of  knowl- 
edge, and  that  it  seems  to  hit  as  near  the  truth  as  a  calcula- 
tion of  this  sort  can. 

One  verification  has  been  attempted.  Samples  of  mound 
material,  taken  randomly  from  different  parts,  indicate  that 
14  per  cent  of  its  weight,  or  about  7,000  tons,  are  ashes. 
If  the  mound  is  3,500  years  old,  the  ashes  were  deposited 
at  the  rate  of  two  tons  a  year,  or  about  eleven  pounds  daily, 


RELIGION  74* 

Experiments  with  the  woods  growing  in  the  neighborhood 
have  shown  that  they  yield  less  than  one  per  cent  of  ash. 
The  eleven  daily  pounds  must  therefore  have  come  from 
1,200  pounds  of  wood.  On  the  assumption,  as  before,  that 
the  population  averaged  fifteen  families,  the  one-fifteenth 
share  of  each  household  would  be  eighty  pounds  daily.  This 
is  a  pretty  good  load  of  firewood  tor  a  woman  to  carry  on 
her  back,  and  with  the  Indians*  habit  of  nursing  their  fires 
economically,  especially  along  a  timbcrless  shore,  eighty 
pounds  seems  a  liberal  allowance  to  satisfy  all  their  require- 
ments for  heating  and  cooking.  If  they  managed  to  get  along 
on  less  than  eighty  pounds  per  hut,  the  mound  age  wouk! 
be  correspondingly  greater. 

This  check  calculation  thus  verifies  the  former  estimate 
rather  reasonably.  It  does  not  seem  rash  to  set  down  three 
to  four  thousand  years  as  the  indicated  age  of  the  mound. 

This  double  archaeological  conclusion  tallies  as  closely  a* 
one  could  wish  with  the  results  derived  from  the  ethnologi- 
cal method  of  estimating  antiquity  from  the  degree  and 
putative  rapidity  of  cultural  change.  Both  methods  carry  the 
First  traceable  period  back  to  about  1500  or  2000  B.C.  After 
all,  exactness  is  of  little  importance  in  matters  such  as  these, 
except  as  an  indication  of  certitude.  If  it  could  be  proved  that 
the  first  mussel  was  eaten  by  a  human  being  on  the  site  of 
Ellis  Landing  in  1724  B.C.,  this  piece  of  knowledge  would 
carry  interest  chiefly  in  proving  that  an  exact  method  of 
chronology  had  been  developed,  and  would  possess  value 
mainly  in  that  the  date  found  might  ultimately  be  con- 
nectible  with  the  dates  of  other  events  in  history  and  so 
lead  to  broader  formulations. 

GENERAL   SERVICEABILITY   OF   THE   METHOD 

The  anthropological  facts  which  have  been  analyzed  and 
then  recombined  in  the  foregoing  pages  are  not  presented 
with  the  idea  that  the  history  of  the  m  lowly  and  fading 
Californians  is  of  particular  intrinsic  moment.  They  have 
been  discussed  chiefly  as  an  illustration  of  method,  as  one 


J42  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

example  out  of  many  that  might  have  been  chosen.  That 
it  was  the  California  Indians  who  were  selected,  is  partly 
an  accident  of  the  writer's  familiarity  with  them.  The  choice 
seems  fair  because  the  problem  here  undertaken  is  rather 
more  difficult  than  many.  The  Californian  cultures  were 
simple.  They  decayed  quickly  on  contact  with  civilization. 
The  bulk  of  historical  records  go  back  barely  a  century  and 
a  half.  Archaeological  exploration  has  been  imperfect  and 
yields  comparatively  meager  results.  Then,  too,  the  whole 
Californian  culture  is  only  a  fragment  of  American  Indian 
culture,  so  that  the  essentially  local  Californian  problems 
would  have  been  further  illuminated  by  being  brought  into 
relation  with  the  facts  available  from  North  America  as  a 
whole — an  aid  which  has  been  foregone  in  favor  of  compact 
presentation.  In  short,  the  problem  was  made  difficult  by  its 
limitations,  and  yet  results  have  been  obtained.  Obviously, 
the  same  method  applied  under  more  favorable  circum- 
stances to  regions  whose  culture  is  richer  and  more  diversi- 
fied, where  documented  history  projects  farther  back  into 
.the  past,  where  excavation  yields  nobler  monuments  and 
provides  them  in  stratigraphic  arrangement,  and  especially 
when  wider  areas  are  brought  into  comparison,  can  result 
in  determinations  that  are  correspondingly  more  exact,  full, 
and  positive. 

It  is  thus  clear  that  cultural  anthropology  possesses  a  tech- 
nique of  operation  which  needs  only  vigorous,  sane,  and 
patient  application  to  be  successful.  This  technique  is  newer 
and  as  yet  less  refined  than  those  of  the  mechanical  sciences. 
It  is  also  under  the  disadvantage  of  having  to  accept  its 
materials  as  they  are  given  in  nature;  it  is  impossible  to  carry 
cultural  facts  into  the  laboratory  and  conduct  experiments 
on  them.  Still,  it  is  a  method;  and  its  results  differ  from 
those  of  the  so-called  exact  sciences  in  degree  of  sharpness 
rather  than  in  other  quality. 

It  will  be  noted  that  throughout  this  analysis  there  has 
been  no  mention  of  laws;  that,  at  most,  principles  of  method 
have  been  recognized— such  as  the  assumption  that  widely 


RELIGION  743 

spread  culture  elements  are  normally  more  ancient  than 
locally  distributed  ones.  In  this  respect  cultural  anthropology 
is  in  a  class  with  political  and  economic  history,  and  with 
all  the  essentially  historical  sciences  such  as  natural  history 
and  geology.  The  historian  rarely  enunciates  laws,  or  if 
he  does,  he  usually  means  only  tendencies.  The  "laws"  oi 
historical  zoology  are  essentially  laws  of  physiology;  those 
of  geology,  laws  of  physics  and  chemistry.  Even  the  "laws" 
of  astronomy,  when  they  are  not  mere  formulations  of 
particular  occurrences  which  our  narrow  outlook  on  time 
causes  to  seem  universal,  are  not  really  astronomical  lawi 
but  mechanical  and  mathematical  ones.  In  other  words,  an- 
thropology belongs  in  the  group  of  the  historical  sciences; 
those  branches  of  knowledge  concerned  with  things  as  and 
how  and  when  they  happen,  with  events  as  they  appear  in 
experience;  whereas  the  group  of  sciences  that  formulates 
laws  devotes  itself  to  the  inherent  and  immutable  properties 
of  things,  irrespective  of  their  place  or  sequence  or  occur 
rence  in  nature. 

Of  course,  there  must  be  laws  underlying  culture  phe 
nomena.  There  is  no  possibility  of  denying  them  unless 
one  is  ready  to  remove  culture  out  of  the  realm  of  science 
and  set  it  into  the  domain  of  the  supernatural.  Where  can 
one  seek  these  laws  that  inhere  in  culture?  Obviously  i» 
that  which  underlies  culture  itself,  namely,  the  human 
mind.  The  laws  of  anthropological  data,  like  those  of  history, 
are  then  laws  of  psychology.  As  regards  ultimate  explana- 
tions for  the  facts  which  it  discovers,  classifies,  analyzes, 
and  recombines  into  orderly  reconstructions  and  significant 
syntheses,  cultural  anthropology  must  look  to  psychology. 
The  one  is  concerned  with  "what"  and  "how";  the  other 
with  "why";  each  depends  on  the  other  and  supplements  it. 


WOMAN  AND  RELIGION* 

By  ROBERT  H.  LOWIE 

IF  we  were  asked  whether  women  or  men  are  the  more 
religious,  most  of  us  should  unhesitatingly  answer  in  favor 
of  women  and  should  presumably  cite  their  proverbially 
greater1  emotionalism  as  an  explanation.  On  the  Continent — 
say,  in  Spain — it  is  a  familiar  enough  thing  to  have  women 
go  to  mass  while  their  free-thinking  brothers  and  husbands 
never  enter  a  church,  and  in  Anglo-Saxon  countries  pietism 
or  any  obtrusively  religious  or  ethical  reform  movement  is 
more  definitely  associated  with  the  feminine  psyche, — and 
this  irrespective  of  the  fact  that  in  most  denominations 
women  are  barred  from  the  positions  of  priest  or  minister. 
But  when  we  survey  the  corresponding  phenomena  of  ruder 
cultures,  the  significant  fact  appears  that  in  various  regions 
women  are  not  only  ineligible  for  office  but  seem  to  be 
shut  out  from  all  religious  activity.  In  most  Australian 
tribes  it  would  be  death  for  a  woman  to  witness  the  initia- 
tion procedures;  corresponding  conditions  have  been  de- 
scribed for  New  Guinea  and  Melanesia  and  have  a  sporadic 
distribution  elsewhere.  Does  this  mean  that  women  in  such 
areas  are  really  debarred  from  religious  manifestations  ?  And 
if  not,  how  do  they  display  the  relevant  sentiments?  To 
what  extent  are  their  disabilities  founded  in  some  innate 
peculiarity,  how  far  are  they  due  to  a  specific  cultural 
environment?  And  how  do  woman's  subjective  reactions 
differ  from  man's? 

At  the  present  stage  of  our  knowledge  some  of  these 
questions  are  more  easily  asked  than  answered.  If  in  spite 
of  our  ignorance  a  special  chapter  is  devoted  to  the  topic, 
it  is  in  order  to  direct  attention  to  an  interesting  but  neg- 

*  Primitive  Religion.    New  York :  Horace  Liveright,  Inc. 

744 


RELIGION  74C 

lectecl  field  of  inquiry.  On  the  last-mentioned  problem  in 
particular  I  have  ransacked  the  literature  in  vain  for  even 
a  shred  of  enlightening  material.  One  turns  naturally  to 
those  regions  in  which  women  are  least  hampered  by  social 
conventions.  Thus,  among  the  Northwestern  Californians 
the  part  of  shaman  is  most  commonly  played  by  the  female 
sex,  and  Professor  Kroeber  has  secured  the  confessions  of 
one  of  these  medicine-women.  Yet  when  one  analyzes  her 
statements,  the  personal  factor  seems  wholly  submerged  in 
the  characteristic  tribal  (Yurok)  trait  of  greed  for  money: 
she  is  obsessed  with  the  desire  of  acquiring  wealth  through 
her  practice,  precisely  as  her  fellows,  male  or  female,  are 
in  the  ordinary  business  of  life:  "So  whatever  I  did  I  spoke 
of  money  constantly.  ...  I  said  to  myself:  'When  people 
are  sick,  I  shall  cure  them  if  they  pay  me  enough/  "  From 
such  stereotyped  longings  of  avarice  it  is  impossible  to  distill 
the  faintest  flavor  of  distinctively  feminine  character. 

Among  the  Crow  there  are  relatively  few  restrictions 
because  of  sex.  Women,  as  well  as  men,  have  the  right  to 
seek  visions  and  if  they  avail  themselves  more  rarely  of 
the  privilege  it  is  because  in  so  intensely  martial  a  culture 
the  craving  for  success  in  war  is  the  most  usual  impetus 
to  a  vision-quest.  In  the  important  ceremonial  society  con- 
cerned with  the  sacred  Tobacco  there  are  no  offices  for  which 
members  are  ineligible  because  of  sex,  and  the  part  played 
by  women  in  the  dances  is  a  conspicuous  one.  Of  the  women 
I  knew,  Muskrat  was  probably  the  most  positive  personality 
that  figured  in  religious  activities.  She  was  very  well  in^ 
formed  and  intelligent,  but  inordinately  vain,  and  hef 
attempts  at  self-aggrandizernent  were  sometimes  ridiculed 
by  her  fellow-tribesmen — in  her  absence.  She  had  been  Mixer 
in  the  Weasel  chapter  of  the  Tobacco  society,  and  to  the 
resentment  of  some  old  people  she  continued  to  exercise 
the  duties  of  the  office  after  having  sold  the  prerogative 
She  herself  explained  that  she  had  enly  sold  part  of  it 
and  at  all  events  remained  a  dominant  figure  in  the  or- 
ganization. I  repeatedly  interviewed  her  and  obtained  much 


746  THE    MAKING    OF    MAM 

interesting  information  but  nothing  that  would  suggest  a 
positive  sex  difference.  Thus,  she  had  a  revelation  of  a 
particular  tobacco-mixing  recipe  such  as  any  man  might  have 
secured;  on  another  occasion  a  weasel  entered  her  body, 
a  not  uncommon  experience  of  either  sex;  precisely  like 
any  other  member  of  the  Tobacco  organization  she  adopted 
new  members;  and  again  like  other  Crow  Indians  with 
corresponding  revelations  she  exercised  specific  functions, 
such  as  charming  an  unfaithful  husband  or  doctoring 
broken  bones.  Her  taboos  also  wholly  resemble  those  of 
other  visionaries  in  principle.1 

It  is  of  course  conceivable — though  hardly  a  priori  prob- 
able— that  no  sex  differences  exist.  On  the  other  hand,  it 
is  possible  that  our  field  methods  have  hitherto  been  too 
gross  to  sense  such  elusive  differences  as  may  occur;  and 
at  all  events  a  resolute  attempt  in  that  direction — if  possible, 
by  a  woman  anthropologist — would  be  eminently  worth 
while. 

If  very  little  can  be  said  on  the  subjective  side,  I  think 
We  can  definitely  dispose  of  a  plausible  misconception  based 
on  objective  observations.  It  does  not  follow  that  women 
are  excluded  from  the  religious  life  of  the  community 
because  their  social  status  is  inferior  or  because  certain  spec- 
tacular features  are  tabooed  to  them.  In  the  striking  Ekoi 
case  we  found  that  women  were  indeed  prohibited  from 
touching  a  strong  njomm  or  seeing  a  bull-roarer  or  a  stilt- 
walking  exhibition  and  from  ever  intruding  into  an  Egbo 
meeting;  but  by  way  of  compensation  they  exclude  men 
from  the  Nimm  sorority  and  through  that  cult  play  no 
mean  part  in  tribal  ritual.  Elsewhere  in  Africa  the  legal 
subordination  of  women  in  no  wise  interferes  with  very 
important  religious  offices.  Among  the  Zulu,  women  no  less 
than  men  detect  sorcerers,  and  the  same  is  reported  for  th*. 
Thonga,  where  Mholombo,  whom  M.  Junod  not  unnatu- 
rally describes  as  "an  extraordinarily  acute  woman,"  would 
confound  evil  magicians,  work  such  miracles  as  walking 
on  the  water,  and  interpret  the  divining-bones  through  the 


RELIGION  747 

agency  of  a  spirit  possessing  her.  Other  women  have  been 
known  to  become  diviners,  though  not  so  often  as  men, 
and  to  be  possessed  by  ancestral  ghosts;  and  though  nor- 
mally the  eldest  brother  acts  as  priest  in  ancestral  worship  the 
duty  may  also  devolve  on  the  eldest  sister.2 

The  condition  characteristic  of  these  African  tribes  is  of 
very  wide  distribution:  that  is  to  say,  women  may  not  par- 
ticipate so  frequently  or  so  fully  as  men,  yet  their  role  ii 
far  from  negligible  in  the  religious  life.  For  instance,  the 
highest  reaches  of  Chukchi  shamanism — those  connected 
with  the  practice  of  ventriloquism — are  inaccessible  to  the 
female  sex,  yet  lesser  forms  of  inspiration  are  more  com- 
monly bestowed  on  women  than  otherwise.  In  the  Anda- 
man Islands  women  do  not  join  in  ordinary  dances,  though 
they  attend  to  form  the  chorus;  but  they  have  a  mourning 
dance  of  their  own  and  act  as  shamans,  though  less  fre- 
quently than  men.  In  Polynesia,  again,  all  kinds  of  taboos 
hedged  in  the  life  of  the  women:  in  Hawaii  they  were 
obliged  to  eat  food  apart  from  the  men  and  were  not  even 
allowed  to  enter  a  man's  eating-house  prior  to  the  abolition 
of  the  old  rule  by  a  decree  of  Kamehameha  II  in  1819; 
they  were  not  admitted  to  the  sacred  college  of  the  Maori  of 
New  Zealand  and  might  not  travel  by  boat  in  the  Marquesas. 
But  in  spite  of  Malo's  statement  that  in  Hawaii  the  majority 
of  them  "had  no  deity  and  just  worshiped  nothing,"  his 
own  description  tells  of  their  worship  of  female  deities; 
and  in  Tonga  inspirational  dreams  of  consequence  were 
not  denied  to  women.8 

It  is,  however,  particularly  noteworthy  that  even  in  regions 
where  some  rigid  penalty  seems  wholly  to  eliminate  women 
from  ceremonial  participation  closer  scrutiny  reveals  a  very 
different  state  of  affairs.  Oceania  and  Australia  furnish  stock 
examples  of  the  former,  but  the  less  obtrusive  assertion  of 
women  in  religious  life  has  not  been  adequately  recognized. 
Thus,  among  the  Tami  of  New  Guinea  we  have  seen  that 
while  the  female  sex  was  excluded  from  the  initiation  cere- 
mony and  terrorized  by  its  performers,  women  normally  call 


748  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

the  spirits  of  recently  deceased  tribesmen.  An  equally  strik- 
ing illustration  is  provided  by  Australia.  Among  the  Euah* 
layi  of  New  South  Wales  the  inner  mysteries  of  the 
initiation  ritual  also  remain  a  sealed  book  to  women,  nay, 
even  the  usual  name,  Byamee,  of  its  divine  inaugurator  is 
concealed  from  them.  But  this  does  not  prevent  them  from 
praying  to  him  under  another  designation,  as  did  that  re- 
markable old  shaman,  Bootha,  whose  portrait  has  been  so 
vividly  painted  by  Mrs.  Parker.  When  probably  well  over 
sixty,  she  absented  herself  from  camp  in  order  to  grieve 
over  the  loss  of  a  favorite  granddaughter.  After  a  long 
seclusion  in  more  or  less  demented  condition  she  returned 
a  full-fledged  medicine-woman.  Henceforth  she  was  able 
to  summon  and  interrogate  the  guardian  spirits  acquired; 
with  their  aid  she  performed  miraculous  cures  and  pro- 
duced rain  at  will,  evidently  exerting  a  considerable  influ- 
ence on  the  aborigines  in  the  vicinity  and  apparently  in  no 
way  inferior  to  her  male  colleagues.4 

An  American  instance  may  be  added  for  good  measure. 
The  Northern  Athabaskans  generally  are  hardly  conspicu- 
ous for  their  chivalrous  attitude  toward  women,  and  the 
Anvik,  who  inhabit  an  Alaskan  village  some  hundred  and 
twenty-five  miles  inland,  form  no  exception.  Even  from 
infancy  a  girl  is  carefully  watched  lest  she  step  on  any- 
thing lying  on  the  floor  that  might  affect  the  welfare  of 
her  family.  "The  spirit  of  the  boy  is  stronger  than  the 
spirit  of  the  girl,  so  b  boy  may  step  where  he  pleases."  As 
the  child  grows  older,  restrictions  multiply,  especially  from 
puberty  on,  nor  has  the  girl  a  will  of  her  own  in  the 
choice  of  a  mate.  Again,  there  is  discrimination  in  the 
ceremonial  use  of  masks:  men  may  wear  female  masks,  but 
no  woman  is  allowed  to  put  on  a  man's  mask.  Yet,  all  these 
taboos  to  the  contrary  notwithstanding,  the  weaker  sex  is 
by  no  means  wholly  debarred  from  participation  in  the 
religious  activities  of  the  community.  Some  women  own 
sacred  songs  and  chant  them  at  the  tribal  festivals.  There 
are  female  shamans  who  treat  sick  members  of  their  sex. 


Rr,i.  ICMOX  749 

and  the  wives  of  shamans  arc  favored  to  the  extent  of 
being  allowed  to  sing  at  the  more  important  dances  and  to 
inherit  something  of  their  deceased  husbands'  supernatural 
gifts.  Individual  cases  are  known  of  women  who  gained 
great  influence. 

Cries-for-salmon's  mother  is  a  woman  with  power.  She  has 
many  strong  songs.  Her  father  had  been  a  great  hunter,  with 
wolverene  and  bear  songs.  She  is  always  consulted  in  the  vil- 
lage, she  knows  her  power,  and  there  is  no  one  to  check  her 
or  to  talk  about  her.5 

This  notable  trio  of  instances  establishes  a  sort  of  a  fortiori 
conclusion.  Evidently  even  marked  sexual  disabilities  do 
not  exclude  women  from  exercising  religious  functions  of 
social  significance,  and  there  is  not  the  slightest  indication 
that  their  limitations  are  the  consequence  of  innate  in- 
capacity or  that  a  lack  of  emotional  interest  in  religion  has 
been  engendered  by  compulsory  disuse.  As  a  matter  of  fact, 
as  soon  as  outward  pressure  is  somewhat  relaxed  the  sexes 
share  quite  equitably  in  ceremonial  duties.  This  is  clear 
even  from  the  African  cases  cited  above,  and  the  case  for 
North  America  could  be  easily  strengthened  by  additional 
instances.  Among  the  Plains  Indians  the  custody  of  sacred 
objects,  such  as  shields,  was  regularly  entrusted  to  a  favorite 
wife;  membership  in  secret  organizations  was  often  open 
to  women  on  equal  terms  with  men;  nay,  they  were  even 
at  times  eligible  to  the  highest  ceremonial  offices.  To  turn 
to  another  area,  nothing  could  be  fairer  than  the  allotment 
of  ritualistic  privileges  among  the  Bagobo  of  Mindanao, 
and  indeed  other  natives  of  the  Philippines.  Old  men  offer 
sacred  food,  recount  their  exploits  while  holding  the  cere* 
monial  bamboo  poles  they  have  cut,  prepare  for  human 
sacrifices,  perform  magical  rites,  while  old  women  conduct 
altar  rites  at  the  harvest,  make  offerings  at  shrines,  and 
recite  the  accompanying  prayers.  If  the- men  direct  the  cere- 
monial as  a  whole,  it  is  virtually  a  feminine  prerogative 
(as  in  New  Guinea)  to  summon  the  spirits  at  a  seance. 


750  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

Indeed,  the  women  "direct  many  ceremonial  details  and 
are  often  called  into  consultation  with  the  old  men;  they 
exercise  a  general  supervision  over  the  religious  behavior 
of  the  young  people."  8 

Where  pronounced  religious  disabilities  occur,  I  am  in- 
clined to  impute  them  predominantly  to  the  savage  man's 
horror  of  menstruation.  Lest  this  seem  a  fanciful  suggestion, 
I  offer  by  way  of  substantiation  a  part  of  the  abundant 
evidence. 

Among  the  Ila,  a  Bantu  tribe  of  Rhodesia,  a  woman 
during  her  periodic  illness  is  dangerous  "and  must  be 
separated  as  far  as  possible  from  contact  with  her  fellows." 
A  man  eating  with  her  would  lose  his  virility,  and  sick 
people  would  be  most  injuriously  affected  by  her.  She  may 
not  use  the  common  fire  or  handle  other  people's  pots  or  drink 
from  their  cups  or  cook  or  draw  water  for  others.  In  Central 
Australia  a  menstruating  woman  is  carefully  avoided,  while 
in  Queensland  she  is  secluded  and  must  not  even  walk  in 
a  man's  tracks.  In  the  Torres  Straits  Islands  investigators 
have  found  an  "intense  fear  of  the  deleterious  and  infective 
powers  of  the  menstrual  fluid,"  and  various  taboos  are 
imposed  on  the  menstruant,  who  must  live  in  seclusion,  shun 
the  daylight,  and  abstain  from  sea-food.  Her  Marshall  Island 
sister  dwells  in  a  special  menstrual  hut,  is  limited  to  a 
prescribed  diet,  and  is  believed  to  exert  an  inauspicious 
influence.7 

However,  for  no  other  region  is  the  evidence  so  convincing 
as  £or  America.  One  of  the  most  illuminating  reports  is 
tb/,t  of  an  eighteenth  century  observer  among  the  Choctaw 
of  Louisiana.  Here  the  women  at  once  left  the  house,  hid 
faom  the  sight  of  men,  were  not  permitted  to  use  the 
family  fire  lest  the  household  be  polluted,  and  under  no 
condition  were  supposed  to  cook  for  other  people.  The 
French  narrator,  having  once  stumbled  upon  a  menstruant, 
prevailed  upon  her  to  make  him  "some  porridge  of  little 
grain,"  and  after  the  arrival  of  the  husband  invited  him 
to  partake  of  the  meal.  At  first  the  Choctaw  unwittingly 


RELIGION  751 

fell  to  eating,  but  suddenly  grew  suspicious  and  inquired 
for  the  cook. 

.  .  .  When  I  replied  that  it  was  his  wife  who  had  been  my 
cook,  he  was  at  once  seized  with  sickness  and  went  to  the  door 
to  vomit.  Then,  reentering  and  looking  into  the  dish,  he  noticed 
some  red  things  in  the  porridge,  which  were  nothing  else  than 
the  skin  of  the  corn,  some  grains  of  which  are  red.  He  said  to 
me:  "How  have  you  the  courage  to  eat  of  this  stew?  Do  you 
not  see  the  blood  in  it?"  Then  he  began  vomiting  again  and 
continued  until  he  had  vomited  up  all  that  he  had  eaten;  and 
his  imagination  was  so  strongly  affected  that  he  was  sick  on 
account  of  it  for  some  days  afterward. 

In  intensity  of  reaction  the  Menomini  of  Wisconsin  rival 
the  Choctaw.  A  woman  must  use  her  own  culinary  utensils 
during  her  illness,  and  she  must  not  touch  a  tree,  a  dog, 
or  a  child  lest  it  die.  She  is  not  supposed  to  scratch  her 
self  with  her  fingers  but  with  a  special  stick.  As  Mr 
Skinner  reports: 

To  this  day  many  pagan  Menomini  positively  refuse  to  eat 
in  Christian  houses  for  fear  of  losing  their  powers  through  par- 
taking of  food  prepared  by  a  woman  undergoing  her  monthly 
terms. 

The  Winnebago  go  so  far  as  to  assert  that  sacred  objects 
lose  their  power  through  contact  with  a  menstruating 
woman. 

If  the  Winnebago  can  te  said  to  be  afraid  of  any  one  thing 
it  may  be  said  it  is  this — the  menstrual  flow  of  women — for  even 
the  spirits  die  of  its  effects.8 

In  the  Far  West  the  same  psychological  attitude  appears 
practically  unchanged.  A  Blackfoot  menstruant  must  keep 
away  from  sacred  articles  and  from  sick  people:  something 
would  strike  the  patient  "like  a  bullet  and  make  him  worse." 
What  is  particularly  noteworthy  is  the  diffusion  of  cor- 
responding beliefs  throughout  the  area  of  rudest  culture 


/52  THEMAKINGOFMAN 

As  late  as  1906  I  myself  was  able  to  observe  the  seclusion 
of  Shoshoni  women  in  Idaho,  where  abstention  from  meat 
Was  likewise  imperative  during  the  period.  The  same  food 
taboo  was  observed  by  their  kinsmen,  the  Paviotso  of 
Nevada,  who  gave  as  a  justification  that  if  the  women  ate 
antelope  flesh  the  game  impounded  in  a  drive  would  break 
through  the  enclosure.  In  north-central  California  the 
Shasta  impose  a  special  hut,  the  scratching-stick,  strict  food 
taboos,  and  the  rule  that  the  woman  must  not  look  at 
people  pr  the  sun  or  the  moon.  Should  a  woman  be  taken 
unexpectedly  ill  while  at  home, 

all  men  leave  at  once,  taking  with  them  their  bows,  spears  and 
nets,  lest  they  become  contaminated  and  thus  all  luck  desert 
them. 

Among  the  Chinook  of  the  lower  Columbia  the  adolescent 
girl  is  under  rigorous  restrictions. 

She  must  not  warm  herself.  She  must  never  look  at  the  people. 
She  must  not  look  at  the  sky,  she  must  not  pick  berries.  It  is 
forbidden.  When  she  looks  at  the  sky  it  becomes  bad  weather. 
When  she  picks  berries  it  will  rain.  She  hangs  up  her  towel  of 
cedar  bark  on  a  certain  spruce  tree.  The  tree  dries  up  at  once. 
After  one  hundred  days  she  may  eat  fresh  food,  she  may  pick 
berries  and  warm  herself. 

In  subsequent  catamenial  periods  she  must  not  be  seen  by 
a  sick  person,  nor  must  berries  picked  by  her  be  eaten  by 
the  sick.  Finally  (though  the  list  could  be  greatly  enlarged), 
there  are  the  Northern  Athabaskans.  According  to  Father 
Morice,  "hardly  any  other  being  was  the  object  of  so  much 
dread  as  a  menstruating  woman,'*  who  ate  only  dried  fish, 
drank  water  through  a  tube,  and  was  not  allowed  to  live 
with  her  male  kin  nor  to  touch  anything  belonging  to  men 
or  related  to  the  chase  "lest  she  would  thereby  pollute  the 
same,  and  condemn  the  hunters  to  failure,  owing  to  the 
anger  of  the  game  thus  slighted."  More  than  a  century 
ago  Samuel  Hearne  made  corresponding  observations  among 
the  related  Chipewyan:  women  in  question  lived  apart 


REL:OION  753 

in  a  hovel  and  were  not  permitted  to  walk  near  a  net  or 
to  eat  the  head  of  an  animal  or  cross  the  track  where  a  deer 
head  had  lately  been  carried, — and  all  this  to  ward  off  bad 
hunting  luck.  Quite  similar  notions  prevail  among  their 
fellow-Athabaskans,  the  Anvik,  of  Alaska.0 

It  is  not  so  easy  to  trace  the  distribution  of  such  a  trait 
in  the  southern  half  of  the  New  World,  yet,  thanks  mainly 
to  Father  Schmidt's  indefatigable  industry,  we  are  in  a 
position  to  state  positively  that  in  one  form  or  another  the 
usage  extends  all  the  way  to  Tierra  del  Fuego,  being  found 
in  southern  Central  America,  Colombia,  Guiana,  Peru, 
Brazil,  Patagonia,  and  around  Cape  Horn.  The  descrip- 
tions are  not  always  so  circumstantial  as  for  North  America. 
Thus,  from  z  Fuegian  report  I  glean  merely  the  imposition 
of  a  puberty  fast  on  girls.  The  Mundrucu  added  exposure 
to  smoke,  the  Paravilhana  corporal  punishment.  Among 
the  Siusi  the  girl  was  under  dietary  restrictions,  her  hair 
was  cut,  and  her  back  was  daubed  with  paint.  The  Arawak 
of  Guiana  present  the  typical  complex  of  seclusion,  fire  and 
food  taboos.10  To  what  extent  fuller  knowledge  of  all  these 
tribes  would  bring  ampler  accounts,  remains  obscure.  We 
should  like  to  know  especially  whether  later  menstruation 
is  likewise  linked  with  definite  regulations.  But  even  in 
our  present  state  of  ignorance  it  is  proper  to  advance  the 
hypothesis  that  some  sort  of  menstrual  taboo  is  a  deep- 
rooted,  an  archaic  element  of  American  culture. 

Let  us  now  survey  the  remainder  of  the  world.  I  have 
already  pointed  out  that  the  sentiment  underlying  menstrual 
prohibitions  exists  in  Oceania,  Australia,  and  Africa.  In 
the  rudest  tribes  for  which  I  can  get  evidence  it  likewise 
occurs,  but  not  in  the  extreme  form  typical  of,  say,  the 
Choctaw.  The  Andamanese  do  not  insist  on  departure 
from  the  camp,  but  proscribe  certain  kinds  of  food  for  their 
alleged  evil  effects  on  the  woman.  Bushman  practice,  at 
least  at  the  time  of  adolescence,  conforms  more  closely  to 
type:  the  adolescent  is  segregated  in  a  tiny  hut  with  a  door 
closed  upon  her  by  her  mother;  she  must  not  walk  about 


754  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

freely  nor  look  at  the  springbok  lest  they  become  wild; 
and  when  going  out  she  must  look  down  at  the  ground. 
On  rules  of  subsequent  periods  I  cannot  find  any  data.  Of 
the  Paleo-Siberians,  the  Maritime  Chukchi  do  not  allow 
a  menstruating  woman  to  approach  her  husband;  even  her 
breath  is  impure  and  might  contaminate  him,  destroying 
his  luck  as  sea-hunter,  nay,  causing  him  to  be  drowned. 
Under  similar  circumstances,  her  Koryak  sister  must  not 
tamper  with  her  husband's  hunting  and  fishing  apparatus 
or  sit  on  his  sledge,  while  among  the  Yukaghir  she  is 
forbidden  to  touch  the  sacred  drum.11 

From  the  occurrence  of  the  custom  among  the  rudest 
peoples  of  the  Old  World — the  Paleo-Siberians,  Andaman- 
ese,  Bushmen — and  the  rudest  peoples  of  America,  and 
its  wide  distribution  on  somewhat  higher  levels,  we  can 
draw  the  conclusion  that  menstrual  restrictions  are  of  great 
antiquity  in  the  history  of  human  culture,  though  prob- 
ably not  in  the  extreme  form  distinctive  of  many  Indian 
tribes  of  Canada  and  the  United  States.  Reverting  now  to 
my  hypothesis  that  disabilities  are  correlated  with  the  awe 
inspired  by  menstruation,  I  should  like  to  cite  several  facts 
by  way  of  corroboration.  Where  the  relevant  taboos  exist 
in  mild  form  or  are  lacking,  sex  discrimination  seems  to  be 
likewise  moderate.  The  Bagobo  let  women  share  in  cere- 
monial life  on  a  footing  of  virtual  equality  and  I  cannot 
find  evidence  of  menstrual  restrictions.  In  the  Andamans 
women  do  not  ordinarily  join  in  the  dancing  but  attend, 
forming  the  chorus;  and  quite  similarly  the  Bushman 
women  beat  the  (Urum  and  clap  their  hands  for  the  male 
dancers.12  Still  more  interesting,  where  the  discrimination 
is  intense,  it  is  relaxed  in  old  age;  old  women  enjoy  privi- 
leges in  Australia  and  New  Guinea  that  are  denied  to  their 
younger  sisters.  The  reason  is  not  difficult  to  divine  and  is 
explicitly  stated  by  a  Winnebago  informant: 

At  a  feast  ...  the  old  women,  who  have  passed  their  cli- 
macteric, sit  right  next  to  the  men,  because  they  are  considered 
the  same  as  men  as  they  have  no  menstrual  flow  any  more. 


RELIGION  755 

That  is  to  say,  before  the  menopause  women  are  weird 
creatures,  after  the  menopause  they  become  ordinary  human 
beings,  though  in  many  cases,  no  doubt,  their  former  un- 
canniness  still  in  some  measure  clings  to  them.  A  fact 
otherwise  obscure  can  be  explained  from  this  angle.  Why 
do  the  Chukchi,  who  close  the  highest  grade  of  shamanism  ta 
women,  fail  to  bar  male  inverts  who  in  every  way  dress  and 
act  as  women  ?  Obviously  because  in  their  case  the  sentiments 
produced  by  the  thought  of  menstruation  are  eliminated. 
In  closing  the  discussion  of  this  topic  I  am  painfully  con- 
scious of  having  contributed  very  little  to  a  highly  im- 
portant subject.  But  I  hope  the  attempt  to  treat  it  as  a  distinct 
set  of  problems  will  lead  to  more  systematic  research, — 
especially  in  the  field. 

This  is  perhaps  as  good  a  place  as  any  to  express  what 
little  I  have  to  say  about  a  theory  broached  rather  vocifer- 
ously in  some  quarters,  to  wit,  the  view  that  religion  is 
at  bottom  nothing  but  misunderstood  erotic  emotion.  It 
must  be  obvious  that  two  phenomena  that  exert  so  pro- 
found an  influence  on  so  many  phases  of  human  conduct 
must  have  certain  points  of  contact.  The  simplest  kind 
of  interrelationship  occurs  where  the  gratification  of  erotic 
desire  is  merely  one  of  the  life-values,  which  accordingly 
like  other  life-values  can  be  secured  by  an  appropriate  in- 
tercourse with  the  extraordinary.  Following  the  traditional 
technique  of  his  tribe,  a  Crow  will  seek  a  vision,  where 
a  Bukaua  mutters  a  'spell  and  uses  some  magical  charm. 
But  these  procedures,  employed  for  a  hundred  other  pur- 
poses, can  obviously  not  be  derived  from  a  single,  arbitrarily 
selected  motive  for  their  application. 

There  are,  however,  a  group  of  other  facts  adduced  by  the 
adherents  of  the  theory  to  prove  the  dependence  of  re- 
ligious feeling  on  the  sex  instinct.  I  will  follow  the  con- 
venient summary  provided  by  Mr.  Thouless.  It  is  asserted 
that  adolescence  is  preeminently  the  period  of  religious 
conversion,  hence  religious  experience  is  functionally  re* 


756  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

lated  with  the  instinct  that  comes  to  maturity  at  this 
period.  Secondly,  religion  employs  the  language  charac- 
teristic of  the  expression  of  erotic  passion.  Finally,  the 
theory  assumes  a  special  concern  of  religion  with  the 
suppression  of  normal  sexual  activity,  and  a  compensatory 
reaction  against  such  asceticism. 

Viewing  the  question  primarily  from  the  ethnological 
angle,  I  find  myself  in  substantial  agreement  with  James 
and  Thouless  in  rejecting  the  evidence  as  ludicrously  incc. in- 
clusive for  the  attempted  demonstration.13  Mystic  experi- 
ences are  indeed  commonly  sought  and  secured  at  the  :ige 
of  puberty  but  by  no  means  exclusively  so.  Indeed,  as 
Dr.  R.  F.  Benedict  has  proved,  several  of  the  Plains  Indian 
tribes  regularly  permitted  the  obtaining  of  a  revelation  in 
mature  middle  age,  sometimes  to  the  exclusion  of  the 
puberty  fast.14  On  the  other  hand,  among  the  tribes  of  the 
Great  Lakes  the  experience  considerably  antedated  what 
could  by  the  wildest  stretch  of  the  imagination  be  called 
adolescence.  Here,  as  everywhere,  the  psychological  prob- 
lem is  complicated  by  the  influence  of  cultural  environment. 
It  is  evidently  a  matter  of  social  tradition  whether  the 
religious  thrill  is  looked  for  and  obtained  at  seven,  at 
fifteen,  or  at  forty.  Hence,  it  might  be  argued  that  these 
conventions  artificially  defer  or  accelerate  the  advent  of 
religious  emotion  that  "naturally"  comes  with  the  ap- 
proach of  adolescence.  But  this  would  be  an  arbitrary  asser- 
tion pending  empirical  confirmation. 

The  argument  from  religious  phraVeology  seems  weaker 
still.  It  is  true  that  a  Crow  visionary  is  greeted  by  his 
patron  with  the  words  "I  adopt  you  as  my  son,"  and  the 
associated  ideas  are  undoubtedly  those  of  the  aid  and  pro- 
tection the  "son"  is  henceforth  to  receive  from  his  "father." 
But  I  am  quite  unable  to  see  in  this  any  adumbration 
of  an  occult  "father-complex."  As  James  wisely  remarks, 
religious  sentiment  simply  utilizes  "such  poor  symbols 
as  our  life  affords,"  and  he  amply  proves  that  digestive 
and  respiratory  concepts  serve  the  same  purpose  of 


RELIGION  757 

vivid  representation  as  directly  or  indirectly  amatory 
ones.  If  we  attach  undue  importance  to  the  words  used 
by  man  in  his  groping  for  an  adequate  expression  of  his 
thoughts  and  feelings,  we  may  be  driven  to  reduce  the  sex 
instinct  to  that  of  nutrition  when  a  lover  "hungers"  for  the 
sight  of  his  sweetheart  and  charge  him  with  a  latent  can- 
nibalistic inclination  which  is  at  least  improbable. 

As  for  the  repression  and  compensatory  overindulgence 
of  the  sex  appetite,  neither  can  be  said  to  be  characteristic 
of  primitive  religion.  Special  phenomena,  appearing  in 
restricted  points  of  space  and  time,  are  here  confounded 
with  the  universal  essence  of  religion.  The  same  applies  to 
the  orgies  that  are  sometimes  spectacular  accompaniments 
of  ceremonialism;  interesting  specimens  of  the  ideas  that 
may  become  associated  with  religious  phenomena,  they  do 
not  as  a  rule  touch  the  core  of  religion.  That  must  be  sought 
where  James  looked  for  it,  in  "the  immediate  content  of 
the  religious  consciousness,"  and  I  quite  agree  that  "few 
conceptions  are  less  instructive  than  this  reinterpretation 
of  religion  as  perverted  sexuality." 

NOTES 

1Lowic,   1919;  p.   119  sq.;  ibid.,   1922,  p.  339  sq. 
2Talbot,  pp.  21,  23,  25,  95,  225,  284.  Shooter,  pp.  174-183.  Junod,  ii, 
PP-  377.  438,  444.  45<>,  466. 

3  Bogoras,  p.  415.  Brown,  pp.   129,   131,   176.  Malo,  pp.   50-53,   112. 
Mariner,  p.  262. 

4  Parker,  pp.  6,  8,  42-49.  59- 

6  Parsons,  1922,  p.  337  sq. 

0  L.  W.  Benedict,  pp.  10,  76  sq.,  193  sq. 

7  Smith  and  Dale,  ii,  p.  26  /.  Spencer  and  Gillen,  1904,  p.  601.  Roth, 
1897,  p.  184.  Reports  of  the  Cambridge  Expedition,  v,  pp.  196,  201  sq. 
Erdland,  p.  i  55. 

8Swanton,   1918,  p.  59.  Skinner,   1913,  p.  52.  Radin,   1923,  p.   136  /. 

9  Wisslcr,  1911,  p.  29.  Dixon,  1907,  p.  457  sq.  Boas,  1894,  p.  246.  Morice. 
p.  218.  Hearne,  p.  313  sq.  Parsons,  1922,  p.  344. 

10  Schmidt,  1913.  Martius,  i.  pp.  390,  631.  Koch-Griinberg,  p.  181.  Roth 
I9I5>  P-  312  /•  Buschan,  pp.  217,  360. 

11  Brown,  p.  94.  Bleck  and  Lloyd,  p.  76  /.  Bogoras,  p.  492.  Jochelsof 
1905-1908,  p.  54;  idem.,  1910,  p.  104. 

12  Brown,  p.  131.  Bleek  and  Lloyd,  p.  355. 

13  James,  p.  n.  Thouless,  p.  130  sq. 

14  R.  F.  Benedict,  p.  49  sq. 


VI 

EVOLUTION  OF  ATTITUDES 


EVOLUTION  OF  HUMAN  SPECIES  * 

By  ROBERT  BR1FFAULT 

IN  the  days  when  the  theory  of  organic  evolution  was 
a  struggling  heresy,  the  chief  weight  of  prejudice  against 
which  it  had  to  contend  had  reference  to  the  origin  of  the 
human  species.  Darwin,  in  his  first  great  exposition  of  the 
theory,  cautiously  abstained  from  discussing  its  manifest 
corollary.  The  co-discoverer  of  the  principle  of  natural  selec- 
tion, Wallace,  refused  to  apply  it  to  the  origin  of  the  human 
mind.  Many  who,  in  those  days,  yielded  to  the  weight  of 
evidence  as  regards  the  continuity  of  living  organization  and 
the  gradual  modification  of  structure,  and  were  even  ready 
to  admit  its  bearing  on  the  origin  of  man's  bodily  structure* 
thought  they  saw  an  unsurmountable  obstacle  in  accounting 
by  the  same  process  for  the  development  of  the  mind  of 
man.  Those  doubts  are  now  no  longer  a  subject  of  dispute 
among  those  whose  judgment  in  the  matter  is  of  account. 
Many  psychologists  would,  at  the  present  day,  claim  that 
the  principle  of  evolution  has  shed  no  less  light  over  the 
field  of  psychology  than  over  that  of  biology,  and  that  a 
scientific  psychology  has,  in  truth,  only  become  possible 
since  the  fact  has  been  apprehended  that  the  human  mind 
is  built  upon  a  foundation  of  primal  impulses  common  to 
all  forms  of  life,  of  instincts  similar  to  those  which  shape 
animal  behavior. 

In  the  complete  and  comparatively  rapid  triumph  of 
evolutionary  science,  the  fact  of  the  origin  of  the  human 
from  the  animal  mind  has,  indeed,  tended  in  general  to  be 
taken  somewhat  too  much  for  granted,  and  the  manner  in 
which  that  momentous  development  has  taken  place  has  not 
perhaps  been  the  object  of  as  much  consideration  and  dis- 

*  Scicntia,  June,  1927. 


762  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

cussion  as  it  deserves.  Darwin's  later  work,  in  which  he 
showed  that  there  are  in  the  mental  constitution  of  man 
scarcely  any  aspects  which  have  not  their  germ  or  analogues 
in  animal  mentality,  is  still  perhaps  the  most  exhaustive 
discussion  of  the  subject.  Beyond  various  suggestions  as  to 
what  may  have  been  the  most  important  factors  in  bring- 
ing about  the  development  of  the  human  brain,  such  as 
the  adoption  of  the  erect  attitude,  the  adaptation  of  the 
hand,  the  change  from  a  frugivorous  to  a  flesh  diet,  with 
the  consequent  growth  of  ingenuity  in  the  devising  of 
weapons  and  in  social  coordination,  little  has  been  added 
by  way  of  elucidating  the  most  remarkable  step  in  organic 
evolution. 

Without  in  any  way  suggesting  a  doubt  as  to  its  reality, 
it  must  be  admitted  to  a  greater  extent  than  is  generally 
done,  that  there  is  considerable  weight  in  the  objections 
which  were  at  one  time  urged  against  it.  Between  the  mental 
constitution  of  the  rudest  savages  and  that  of  any  animal, 
including  the  anthropoids,  there  is  a  wide  gap,  and  that  gap 
consists  of  more  than  a  difference  in  degree;  it  amounts  to 
a  difference  in  kind.  Primarily  that  difference  depends  upon 
the  conceptual  character  of  human  mentality.  Of  conceptual 
thought  and  all  that  it  implies,  there  is,  in  spite  of  the  collec- 
tions of  anecdotes  of  "animal  intelligence,"  no  scrap  of 
evidence  among  animals.  So  competent  and  sympathetic  an 
authority  as  Professor  Lloyd  Morgan  concluded  that  animals 
are  without  any  perception  of  relations,  that  their  memory 
is  entirely  of  the  desultory  type,  and  that  "the  evidence  now 
before  us  is  not  sufficient  to  justify  the  hypothesis  that  any 
animals  have  reached  that  stage  of  mental  evolution  at  which 
they  are  even  incipiently  rational."  Quite  recently  Dr. 
Kohler,  working  with  chimpanzees  in  a  semi  wild  condition 
at  Tenerife,  has  made  what  is  probably  the  most  exhaustive 
and  scientific  study  of  the  behavior  and  mentality  of  anthro- 
poids. His  results  give  a  high  idea  of  the  intelligence  of 
the  chimpanzee,  but  they,  at  the  same  time,  bring  out  the 
entire  absence  of  any  indication  of  conceptual  mentality. 


EVOLUTION    OF    ATTITUDES  763 

The  apes  show  ingenuity  in  solving  practical  problems,  but 
they  "must  have  the  factors  for  the  solution  of  the  problem 
within  visual  range,  for  they  seem  to  have  a  very  limited 
capacity  of  working  with  mental  images."  Upon  that  ca- 
pacity of  working  by  means  of  mental  images,  that  is,  upon 
conceptual  thought,  depends  human  mentality  and  the 
difference  between  it  and  the  psychism  of  animals.  Once 
acquired  it  has  rendered  the  difference  an  abysmal  one.  It 
has  not  merely  furnished  more  efficient  means  of  solving 
practical  problems;  it  has  transplanted  mental  life  from 
the  sensory,  and  subconscious  psychism  of  animals  to  a 
medium  of  symbols,  ideas,  values,  to  a  world  which  is  not. 
the  creation  of  the  individual,  or  inherited  by  him  through 
physiological  processes,  but  is  the  transmitted  legacy  of  a 
social  tradition.  That  mentality  is  dependent  upon  the  per- 
manent and  undying  social  group,  not  upon  the  transitory 
individual.  Let  the  means  of  its  transmission  be  abolished, 
as  in  the  uneducated  deaf-mute,  and  the  human  individual 
is  not  mentally  distinguished  from  the  animal;  not  only 
does  he  lack  the  human  instrument  of  intellect,  but  human 
emotions,  social  sentiments  and  affections  also.  Evolutionary 
development  has,  in  the  human  species,  been  transferred 
from  organic  elements  physiologically  inherited  to  social 
tradition.  It  may  be  doubted  whether  the  modern  civilized 
individual  differs  greatly  as  regards  inherited  capacities  from 
his  ancestors  of  the  Stone  Age;  the  difference  between  sav- 
agedom  and  civilization  is  not  organic,  but  cultural.  The 
increase  in  our  knowledge  of  ancient  types  of  man  has,  in 
some  respects,  accentuated  rather  than  attenuated  the  abrupt- 
ness of  the  transition  from  animality  to  humanity;  the  old- 
est human  remains  and  the  tools  associated  with  them 
indicate  a  brain-capacity  which  is  not  markedly,  if  at  all,  in- 
ferior to  that  of  existing  races. 

The  problem  has,  for  the  most  part,  been  considered  in 
a  false  light;  it  has  been  regarded  from  the  point  of  view 
of  the  individual  organism,  whereas  the  human  mind  is 
from  the  first  essentially  a  social  product.  It  is  not  so  much 


764  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

the  result  of  structural  and  physiological  characters,  as  of 
the  characters  of  social  groups,  of  their  constitution,  of  the 
relations  between  their  component  individuals. 

Conceptual  thought,  the  feature  of  human  mentality 
towards  which  the  bridge  from  animal  psychism  must  of 
necessity  lead,  depends  in  turn  upon  language;  it  is  the 
creation  of  the  word.  And  language  cannot,  even  in  fully 
evolved  humanity,  develop  in  the  isolated  individual;  it  is 
the  product  of  social  relations,  of  particularly  close  and 
extensive  social  relations.  As  Professor  Carveth  Read  re- 
marks, the  development  of  language  would  not  be  possible 
in  a  group  consisting  of  a  few  individuals  only,  such  as  the 
primordial  "family"  has  been  conceived. 

The  association  of  individuals  is  not  a  common  feature 
in  the  animal  world.  As  in  all  else,  the  human  interpreter 
reads  in  his  observations  of  animal  life  the  condition  of  his 
own.  A  great  deal  has  been  said  concerning  animal  socie- 
ties, animal  families,  "gregariousness."  But  apart  from  the 
communities  of  insects,  which  are  elaborately  differentiated 
reproductive  groups  and  lie  quite  outside  the  line  of  evolu- 
tion of  the  higher  vertebrates,  there  is  in  the  animal  world 
very  little  that  is  even  analogous  to  social  relations.  Gregari- 
ousness, the  local  aggregation  of  life,  is  not  necessarily 
association.  Herding  animals  are  of  all  the  higher  animals 
the  most  devoid  of  social  instincts;  maternal  care  is  with 
them  poorly  developed,  they  are  lacking  in  affection  and 
sympathy,  they  are  the  most  stupid  of  quadrupeds,  and  are 
in  every  respect  greatly  inferior  to  the  solitary  carnivores. 
There  is  nowhere  any  evidence  of  concerted  action  and 
social  coordination.  The  romantic  stories  which  were  once 
current  concerning  the  constitution  of  communities  of 
beavers,  of  prairie-dogs,  are  known  to  be  fables  devoid  of 
all  foundation.  The  nearest  apparent  approach  to  concerted 
action  is  to  be  found  in  some  packs  of  the  dog-tribe.  But  it 
is  apparent  only;  there  is  no  subordination  of  individual 
to  social  aims.  The  animals  are  essentially  solitary,  pack- 
formation  being  much  more  rare  and  temporary  than  is 


EVOLUTION    OF     ATTITUDES  765 

commonly  supposed;  and,  as  Dr.  W.  T.  Hornaday  remarks, 
"they  are  the  meanest  brutes  on  earth."  The  only  rudi- 
ments of  social  groups  in  the  animal  kingdom  are,  with- 
out exception,  sexual  and  reproductive  groups.  Among  all 
mammals  sexual  association  is,  notwithstanding  much  sen- 
timental inaccuracy  to  the  contrary,  for  the  most  part  very 
slight  and  transient,  and  commonly  altogether  absent.  Sepa- 
ration and  avoidance  between  the  sexes,  except  during  brief 
pairing  seasons,  is  much  more  conspicuous  than  associa- 
tion. Among  the  apes  social  relations  differ  profoundly 
from  the  anthropomorphic  conceptions  of  them  that  have 
been  current.  The  orang-utan  have  no  sexual  association 
at  all;  males  and  females  do  not  cohabit.  The  only  asso- 
ciation is  that  of  mother  and  offspring  during  the  period 
of  the  latter's  immaturity.  The  gorilla  lives  in  bands,  often 
of  considerable  size,  in  which,  according  to  the  latest  and 
most  detailed  observations,  those  of  Prince  William  of 
Sweden,  sexucl  segregation  seems  to  obtain,  females  and 
young  forming  one  group,  the  males  keeping  apart.  The 
abundance  of  solitary  males  would  seem  to  indicate  that 
the  male  population  is  a  shifting  one,  and  its  aggregation 
with  the  females,  as  with  the  orang,  transient  and  variable. 
There  is  no  more  cooperation  among  the  primates  than 
there  is  among  herding  animals  or  rodents.  Each  indi- 
vidual fends  for  himself.  With  one  exception:  the  young 
are  dependent  upon  their  mother,  who  devotes  herself  to 
providing  for  them  and  defending  them  with  an  instinct 
into  which  the  reckless  passion  of  the  reproductive  instinct 
is  transfused. 

There  is  one  known  factor  which  establishes  a  profound 
distinction  between  the  constitution  of  the  most  rudimen- 
tary human  group  and  all  other  animal  groups;  and  it  has 
reference  precisely  to  that  association  of  mother  and  off- 
spring which  is  the  sole  form  of  true  social  solidarity 
among  animals.  Throughout  the  class  of  mammals  there 
is  a  continuous  increase  in  the  duration  *of  that  association, 
which  is  the  consequence  of  the  prolongation  of  the  period 


766  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

of  infantile  dependence,  and  is  correlated  with  a  con- 
comitant protraction  of  gestation  and  the  advance  in  in- 
telligence and  social  instincts.  Among  the  unintelligent 
herbivora  the  duration  of  gestation,  which  is  always  pro- 
portional to  the  average  weight  of  the  animal,  and  must 
for  purposes  of  comparison  be  reduced  to  a  common  de- 
nominator in  this  respect,  is  relatively  brief.  Infancy  is 
equally  curtailed;  the  young  can  follow  their  mother  a 
few  hours  after  birth,  and  are  independent  in  a  few  weeks. 
Among  carnivora  the  duration  of  both  gestation  and  de- 
pendent infancy  is  greatly  prolonged.  That  prolongation  is 
greater  still  in  the  anthropoids,  and  reaches  its  maximum  in 
the  human  species.  A  young  orang-utan  goes  through  the 
same  process  of  development,  in  a  month,  which  a  lion  cub 
accomplishes  in  a  week,  and  which  takes  the  human  infant 
a  year.  The  lion  cub  is  potentially  independent  when  eight- 
een months  old,  the  anthropoid  at  about  five  years.  At  that 
age  many  savage  babies  are  still  being  suckled  by  their 
mother,  and  puberty  ceremonies  generally  take  place 
towards  the  age  of  twelve  or  thirteen.  The  association  of 
mother  and  offspring  is  among  all  animals,  including  the 
apes,  a  temporary  one,  coming  to  an  end  when  the  young 
reach  sexual  maturity.  In  the  human  group  by  the  time 
that  one  generation  has  become  sexually  mature,  new  gen- 
erations have  been  added  to  the  group.  The  association 
between  the  younger  generations,  pronounced  in  all 
primates,  is  greatly  increased  as  regards  solidarity  in  the 
human  group.  From  being  a  transitory  association,  it  tends 
to  become  a  permanent  one.  The  only  analogue  in  the 
animal  world  of  the  social  relation,  the  association  of 
mother  and  offspring  during  the  latter's  infancy,  becomes, 
owing  to  the  great  prolongation  of  that  infancy  in  the 
human  group,  a  lasting  feature.  The  human  individual 
is  permanently  a  member  of  a  solitary  social  group. 

Correlated  with  that  circumstance  is  another  equally 
momentous,  and  deriving  from  the  same  cause.  Retarded 
development,  prolonged  immaturity  imply  the  completion 


EVOLUTION    OF    ATTITUDES  767' 

of  growth  under  the  influence  not  of  physiological  heredity 
alone,  but  of  experience  derived  from  the  environment, 
natural  and  social.  Hence  the  superior  intelligence,  the  "edu- 
cability"  of  infantile  carnivora  as  compared  with  precocious 
herbivora,  of  the  yet  more  infantile  apes  as  compared  with 
other  mammals.  Infantile  immaturity  is  not  manifested 
in  the  higher  animals  by  any  gross  deficiency  in  organic 
structure.  The  new-born  carnivore,  ape,  human  infant  are 
not,  like  the  young  of  some  lower  vertebrates,  larval  forms; 
they  are  anatomically  and  functionally,  except  in  a  few 
minor  details,  perfect  according  to  the  pattern  of  their 
parents.  Their  various  systems  of  organs  are  complete  as 
in  the  adult,  with  only  two  exceptions:  the  reproductive 
and  the  central  nervous  system.  Reproductive  development 
is  deferred  till  puberty.  The  structural  development  which 
takes  place  during  the  period  of  infancy  has,  in  a  pre- 
ponderant degree,  reference  to  one  organ  only,  the  brain. 
The  precocity  of  the  young  of  herbivores  is  the  result  of 
the  complete  development  of  their  central  nervous  system; 
the  infantility  of  carnivores,  of  apes,  of  the  human  infant 
is  proportionately  correlated  with  the  gradual  development 
of  the  elements  of  that  system.  "I  have  found,"  observes 
Dr.  Below,  "that  among  animals  that  bring  forth  their 
young  in  a  condition  of  helplessness,  such  as  man,  the 
dog,  the  cat,  rat,  mouse,  rabbit,  the  development  of  ganglion- 
cells  is  incomplete  at  the  time  of  birth  and  even  soon 
after;  whereas  the  horse,  calf,  sheep,  guinea-pig  show  com- 
pletely developed  ganglion-cells  in  every  part  of  the  brain 
almost  always  in  the  earlier  periods  of  foetal  life,  invariably 
before  birth."  That  incompleteness  of  development  is  much 
more  pronounced  in  the  human  infant  than  in  any  other 
mammalian  young.  The  processes  of  the  pyramidal  cells  in 
the  frontal  cerebral  Cortex  have,  in  the  sixth  month  of 
intrauterine  life,  only  one-fourth  of  their  full  development; 
at  birth  only  one-half.  The  growth  of  .the  brain  does  not 
consist,  as  does  that  of  other  tissues  and  organs,  in  the  mul- 
tiplication of  its  cells;  these  cease  to  multiply  before  any 


768  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

other  in  the  body,  and  their  number  is  never  added  to. 
The  increase  in  the  brain  is  exclusively  the  result  of  the 
growth  of  processes  and  arborizations  which  are  thrown  out 
by  its  developing  cells,  establishing  various  connections. 
Although  the  brain  is,  relatively  to  the  rest  of  the  body, 
larger  and  heavier  at  birth  than  in  the  adult,  it  grows  after 
birth  more  rapidly  than  any  other  organ.  In  the  first  three 
months  the  body  as  a  whole  adds  20  per  cent  to  its  weight; 
the  brain  adds  nearly  90  per  cent.  In  less  than  nine  months 
the  weight  of  the  brain  is  doubled,  in  three  years  it  is  trebled. 
That  growth  is  not,  as  in  other  tissues,  nutritional  and  due 
to  cell-reproduction;  it  is  entirely  functional.  It  takes  place 
under  the  direct  influence  of  experience,  of  education;  if  the 
sense-organs,  eyes,  ears,  be  destroyed  or  functionless,  the 
corresponding  brain-development  does  not  take  place.  If 
an  infant  be  born  prematurely  the  growth  is  accelerated. 

Brain-development  and  intelligence  are,  then,  dependent 
upon  retarded  growth,  the  protraction  of  infantile  imma- 
turity. These,  far  more  than  the  erect  attitude  or  any  other 
specialized  organic  function,  are  the  fundamental  conditions 
and  determining  factors  of  the  development  of  human  brain- 
power. The  question  is  sometimes  mooted  whether  young 
gorillas  or  chiiruanzees  might  not,  by  careful  training, 
be  taught  to  speak.  The  difficulty  in  the  way  of  such  an 
educational  feat  is  that  there  is  not  sufficient  time;  the 
brain  of  the  young  anthropoid  grows  too  fast;  it  is  formed, 
it  has  lost  its  malleability  before  the  time  required  for 
such  an  education  even  in  the  human  infant.  In  the  human 
species  itself,  the  lower  races  are  precocious  as  compared 
with  the  higher,  their  development  is  completed  and  ar- 
.tested  earlier.  The  superiority  of  the  white  races  is  asso- 
ciated with  their  slow  individual  development,  their  pro- 
longed infantilism. 

Those  conditions  of  the  functional  development  of  the 
brain  are  in  turn  correlated  with,  and  inseparable  from,  the 
increased  permanency  of  the  maternal  group.  With  this 
goes  an  increased  strength  of  the  ties  o£  instinct  that  bind 


EVOLUTION    OF    ATTITUDES  769 

it,  the  maternal  instinct,  the  filial  instincts  of  dependence, 
the  social  instincts  which  unite  the  members  of  the  group. 
It  is  under  the  influence  of  those  instincts  that  the  human 
brain  has  developed.  It  is  highly  improbable  that  lan- 
guage, upon  which  conceptual  intelligence  depends,  has 
developed  in  the  first  instance  to  express  concepts,  as  a 
device  for  the  purpose  of  communicating  ideas,  of  naming 
objects.  There  can  be  little  doubt  that  long  before  it  was 
put  to  such  uses,  language  had  already  arisen  as  an  ex- 
pression of  emotions  and  sentiments.  Its  germ  lies  not  in 
concepts,  which  are  impossible  without  it,  and  are  its 
products,  not  its  cause,  but  in  emotional  sounds.  The  pre- 
cocious herbivores  are  mute  even  under  the  influence  of 
pain;  carnivorous  cubs  yell,  even  when  their  belly  is  full, 
if  left  alone;  the  anthropoid  apes  have  a  varied  range  of 
emotional  sounds.  Language  has  its  root  in  social  senti- 
ments; the  favoring  conditions  for  its  development  are  the 
same  as  those  which  confirm  those  sentiments  and  the  soli- 
darity of  the  group,  and  depend  upon  the  educational  pro- 
traction of  human  development. 

The  transition  from  animality  to  humanity  has,  thus, 
not  solely  consisted  in  structural  changes,  in  the  evolution 
of  an  animal  with  a  large  brain.  A  merely  large  brain  is  not 
necessarily  a  human  brain.  The  differentiation  of  the  human 
species  has  been  the  evolution  of  a  social  group  rendered 
permanent  by  the  prolonged  infantile  development  of  its 
members  under  the  protection  of  the  maternal  and  social 
instincts.  It  has  from  the  first  been  a  social  rather  than  a 
biological  process.  It  has  been  rendered  possible  by  the 
gradual  accentuation  of  given  characters,  by  the  slow  ac- 
cumulation of  favoring  predispositions;  it  has  been,  in  short, 
an  evolution.  But,  like  many  steps  in  organic  evolution,  it 
has  been  the  crossing  of  a  definite  boundary-line.  Once 
beyond  it,  the  course  of  the  evolutionary  process  was  turned 
into  a  new  channel;  the  very  method  of  its  operation  was 
changed.  Its  products  became  the  products  of  a  new  entity, 
the  social  c^oup;  and  a  new  heredity,  the  heredity  of  trans- 


J7<>  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

mittcd  tradition,  came  to  overshadow  organic  heredity.  The 
gulf  between  humanity  and  animality  was  established  as 
soon  as  the  boundary-line  was  crossed.  It  is  not  established 
by  culture,  but  by  the  conditions  of  culture,  by  the  per- 
manency of  the  social  group  and  its  tradition.  In  many 
parts  of  Europe  evidence  is  found  of  primitive  populations 
as  low  in  culture  as  any  known  race,  or  lower.  With  scarcely 
any  fashioned  tools,  they  lived,  as  do  animals,  by  gathering 
available  food,  roots,  shell-fish.  The  Romans  knew  of  such 
populations  of  naked  European  savages.  Some  of  these, 
coming  into  contact  with  Syrian  travelers,  with  Roman 
empire-builders,  acquired  in  a  generation  or  two  a  higher 
culture,  which  became  merged  in  that  of  barbaric  Europe; 
they  are  the  not  very  remote  ancestors  of  civilized  Euro- 
peans of  the  present  day.  Given  the  nexus  of  the  permanent 
social  group,  whose  members  feel  themselves  bound  to- 
gether by  unseverable  ties,  intercommunicate  by  vocal  signs, 
inherit  a  group-tradition,  it  matters  not  that  they  are  naked, 
toolless,  deviceless,  brutal.  They  are  essentially  capable  of 
inheriting  the  elements  of  any  human  tradition,  and  stand 
in  that  respect  separated  by  an  abysmal  gulf  from  the 
anthropoid,  who  is,  maybe,  only  just  on  the  other  side  of 
the  boundary-line.  The  conceptual  tradition  which  every 
individual  acquires  and  which  makes  him  human  is  a  social 
product;  the  essential  conditions  of  the  emergence  of  the 
human  species  from  animality  have  likewsie  been,  not 
purely  organic,  but  social. 


COLLECTIVE  REPRESENTATION  IN  PRIMI- 
TIVES1 PERCEPTIONS  AND  THE  MYSTICAL 
CHARACTER  OF  SUCH* 

By  LUCIEN  LEVY-BRUHL 

BEFORE  undertaking  an  investigation  of  the  most  general 
laws  governing  collective  representations  among  unde- 
veloped peoples,  it  may  be  as  well  to  determine  what  the 
essential  characteristics  of  these  representations  are,  and 
thus  avoid  an  ambiguity  which  is  otherwise  almost  inevitable. 
The  terminology  used  in  the  analysis  of  mental  functions  is 
suited  to  functions,  such  as  the  philosophers,  psychologists, 
and  logicians  of  our  civilization  have  formulated  and 
defined.  If  we  admit  these  functions  to  be  identical  in  all 
human  aggregates,  there  is  no  difficulty  in  the  matter;  the 
same  terminology  can  be  employed  throughout,  with  the 
mental  reservation  that  "savages"  have  minds  more  like 
those  of  children  than  of  adults.  But  if  we  abandon  this 
position — and  we  have  the  strongest  reasons  for  considering 
it  untenable — then  the  terms,  divisions,  classifications  we 
make  use  of  in  analyzing  our  own  mental  functions  are 
not  suitable  for  those  which  differ  from  them;  on  the  con- 
trary, they  prove  a  source  of  confusion  and  error.  In  study- 
ing primitive  mentality,  which  is  a  new  subject,  we  shall 
probably  require  a  fresh  terminology.  At  any  rate  it  will  be 
necessary  to  specify  the  new  meaning  which  some  expres- 
sions already  in  use  should  assume  when  applied  to  an 
object  differing  from  that  they  have  hitherto  betokened. 

This  is  the  case,  for  instance,  with  the  term  "collective 
representations." 

In  the  current  parlance  of  psychology  which  classifies 

*  How  Natives  Thin\.    London:  George  Allen  &  Unwin. 
771 


772  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

phenomena  as  emotional,  motor,  or  intellectual,  "represen- 
tation" is  placed  in  the  last  category.  We  understand  by  it 
a  matter  of  cognizance,  inasmuch  as  the  mind  simply  has 
the  image  or  idea  of  an  object.  We  do  not  deny  that  in  the 
actual  mental  life  every  representation  affects  the  inclinations 
tnore  or  less,  and  tends  to  produce  or  inhibit  some  move- 
ment. But,  by  an  abstraction  which  in  a  great  many  cases 
is  nothing  out  of  the  ordinary,  we  disregard  these  elements 
of  the  representation,  retaining  only  its  essential  relation  to 
the  object  which  it  makes  known  to  us.  The  representation  is, 
par  excellence,  an  intellectual  or  cognitive  phenomenon. 

Tt  is  not  in  this  way,  however,  that  we  must  understand 
the  collective  representations  of  primitives.  Their  mental 
activity  is  too  little  differentiated  for  it  to  be  possible  to 
consider  ideas  or  images  of  objects  by  themselves  apart  from 
the  emotions  and  passions  which  evoke  these  ideas  or  are 
evoked  by  them.  Just  because  our  mental  activity  is  more 
differentiated,  and  we  are  more  accustomed  to  analyzing 
its  functions,  it  is  difficult  for  us  to  realize  by  any  effort  of 
imagination,  more  complex  states  in  which  emotional  or 
motor  elements  are  integral  parts  of  the  representation.  It 
seems  to  us  that  these  aie  not  really  representations,  and  in 
fact  if  we  are  to  retain  the  term  we  must  modify  its  meaning 
in  some  way.  By  this  state  of  mental  activity  in  primitives 
we  must  understand  something  which  is  not  a  purely  or 
almost  purely  intellectual  or  cognitive  phenomenon,  but  a 
more  complex  one,  in  which  what  is  really  "representation ' 
to  us  is  found  blended  with  other  elements  of  an  emotional 
or  motor  character,  colored  and  imbued  by  them,  and  there- 
fore implying  a  different  attitude  with  regard  to  the  objects 
represented. 

Moreover,  these  collective  representations  are  very  often 
acquired  by  the  individual  in  circumstances  likely  to  make 
the  most  profound  impression  upon  his  sensibility.  This  is 
particularly  true  of  those  transmitted  at  the  moment  when 
he  becomes  a  man,  a  conscious  member  of  the  social  group, 
the  moment  when  the  initiation  ceremonies  cause  him  to 


EVOLUTION    OF    ATTITUDES  773 

undergo  new  birth,1  when  the  secrets  upon  which  the  very 
life  of  the  group  depends  are  revealed  to  him,  sometimes 
amid  tortures  which  subject  his  nerves  to  the  most  severe 
tests.  It  would  be  difficult  to  exaggerate  the  intense  emotional 
force  of  such  representations.  The  object  is  not  merely  dis- 
cerned by  the  mind  in  the  form  of  an  idea  or  image;  accord- 
ing to  the  circumstances  of  the  case,  fear,  hope,  religious  awe, 
the  need  and  the  ardent  desire  to  be  merged  in  one  common 
essence,  the  passionate  appeal  to  a  protecting  power — these 
are  the  soul  of  these  representations,  and  make  them  at  once 
cherished,  formidable,  and  really  sacred  to  the  initiated.  We 
must  add,  too,  that  the  ceremonies  in  which  these  represen- 
tations are  translated  into  action,  so  to  speak,  take  place 
periodically;  consider  the  conscious  effect  of  the  emotional 
excitement  of  witnessing  the  movements  which  express 
them,  the  nervous  exaltation  engendered  by  excessive  fa 
tiguc,  the  dances,  the  phenomena  of  ecstasy  and  of  possession 
— in  fact  everything  which  tends  to  revive  and  enhance  the 
emotional  nature  of  these  collective  representations.  At  an\ 
time  during  the  intervals  between  the  occurrences  of  these 
ceremonies,  whenever  the  object  of  one  of  these  representa- 
tions once  more  arises  in  the  consciousness  of  the  "primi- 
tive," even  should  he  be  alone  and  in  a  calm  frame  of  mind 
at  the  moment,  it  can  never  appear  to  him  as  a  colorless  and 
indifferent  image.  A  wave  of  emotion  will  immediately 
surge  over  him,  undoubtedly  less  intense  than  it  was  during 
the  ceremonies,  but  yet  strong  enough  for  its  cognitive  aspect 
to  be  almost  lost  sight  of  in  the  emotions  which  surrouad  it. 
Though  in  a  lesser  degree,  the  same  character  pertains  to 
other  collective  representations — such,  for  instance,  as  those 
transmitted  from  generation  to  generation  by  means  of 
myths  and  legends,  and  those  which  govern  manners  and 
customs  which  apparently  are  quite  unimportant;  for  if 
these  customs  are  respected  and  enforced,  it  is  because  the 
collective  representations  relating  to  them  are  imperative  and 
something  quite  different  from  purely*  intellectual  phe- 
nomena. 


774  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

The  collective  representations  of  primitives,  therefore, 
differ  very  profoundly  f~om  our  ideas  or  concepts,  nor  are 
they  their  equivalent  either.  On  the  one  hand,  as  we  shall 
presently  discover,  they  have  not  their  logical  character.  On 
the  other  hand,  not  being  genuine  representations,  in  the 
strict  sense  of  the  term,  they  express,  or  rather  imply,  not 
only  that  the  primitive  actually  has  an  image  of  the  object 
in  his  mind,  and  thinks  it  real,  but  also  that  he  has  some 
hope  or  fear  connected  with  it,  that  some  definite  influence 
emanates  from  it,  or  is  exercised  upon  it.  This  influence  is 
a  virtue,  an  occult  power  which  varies  with  objects  and 
circumstances,  but  is  always  real  to  the  primitive  and  forms 
an  integral  part  of  his  representation.  If  I  were  to  express 
in  one  word  the  general  peculiarity  of  the  collective  repre- 
sentations which  play  so  important  £  part  in  the  mental 
activity  of  undeveloped  peoples,  I  should  say  that  this  mental 
activity  was  a  mystic  one.  In  default  of  a  better,  I  shall  make 
use  of  this  term — not  referring  thereby  to  the  religious  mys- 
ticism of  our  communities,  which  is  something  entirely  dif- 
ferent, but  employing  the  word  in  the  strictly  defined  sense 
in  which  "mystic"  implies  belief  in  forces  and  influences  and 
actions  which,  though  imperceptible  to  sense,  are  never- 
theless real. 

In  other  words,  the  reality  surrounding  the  primitives  is 
itself  mystical.  Not  a  single  being  or  object  or  natural  phe- 
nomenon in  their  collective  representations  is  what  it  ap- 
pears to  be  to  our  minds.  Almost  everything  that  we  perceive 
therein  either  escapes  their  attention  or  is  a  matter  of  indif- 
ference to  them.  On  the  other  hand,  they  see  many  things 
there  of  which  we  are  unconscious.  For  instance,  to  the 
primitive  who  belongs  to  a  totemic  community,  every  animal, 
every  plant,  indeed  every  object,  such  as  the  sun,  moon,  and 
stars,  forms  part  of  a  totem,  and  has  its  own  class  and  sub- 
class. Consequently,  each  individual  has  his  special  affinities, 
and  possesses  powers  over  the  members  of  his  totem,  class 
and  sub-class;  he  has  obligations  towards  them,  mystic  rela- 
tions with  other  totems,  and  so  forth.  Even  in  communities 


EVOLUTION    OF    ATTITUDES  ?]$ 

where  this  form  does  not  exist,  the  group  idea  of  certain 
animals  (possibly  of  all,  if  our  records  were  complete)  ia 
mystic  in  character.  Thus,  among  the  Huichols,  "the  birds 
that  soar  highest ...  are  thought  to  see  and  hear  everything, 
and  to  possess  mystic  powers,  which  are  inherent  in  their 
wing  and  tail  feathers."  These  feathers,  carried  by  the  sha* 
man,  "enable  him  to  see  and  hear  everything  both  above 
and  below  the  earth ...  to  cure  the  sick,  transform  the  dead, 
call  down  the  sun,  etc." 2  The  Cherokees  believe  that  fishes 
live  in  companies  like  human  beings,  that  they  have  their 
villages,  their  regular  paths  through  the  waters,  and  that 
they  conduct  themselves  like  beings  endowed  with  reason.8 
They  think,  too,  that  illness — rheumatic  affections  in  particu- 
lar— proceed  from  a  mystic  influence  exercised  by  animals 
which  are  angry  with  the  hunters,  and  their  medical  practices 
testify  to  this  belief. 

In  Malaya  and  in  South  Africa  the  crocodile,  and  in  other 
places  the  tiger,  leopard,  elephant,  snake,  are  the  object  of 
similar  beliefs  and  practices,  and  if  we  recall  the  myths  ot 
which  animals  are  the  heroes,  in  both  hemispheres,  there  is 
no  mammal  or  bird  or  fish  or  even  insect  to  which  the  most 
extraordinary  mystic  properties  have  not  been  attributed 
Moreover,  the  magic  practices  and  ceremonies  which, 
among  nearly  all  primitive  peoples,  are  the  necessary  accomi 
paniment  of  hunting  and  fishing,  and  the  sacrificial  rites 
to  be  observed  when  the  quarry  has  been  killed,  are  suffi- 
ciently clear  testimony  to  the  mystic  properties  and  powers 
which  enter  into  the  collective  representation  relating  to 
the  animal  world. 

It  is  the  same  with  plant  life.  It  will  doubtless  suffice  to 
mention  the  intichiuma  ceremonies  described  by  Spencer 
and  Gillen,  designed  to  secure,  in  mystic  fashion,  the  normal 
reproduction  of  plants — the  development  of  agrarian  rites, 
corresponding  with  the  hunting  and  fishing  ceremonial,  in 
all  places  where  primitive  peoples  depend  wholly  or  partly 
on  the  cultivation  of  the  soil  for  their  subsistence — and 
lastly,  the  highly  unusual  mystic  properties  ascribed  to 


77^  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

sacred  plants,  as,  for  instance,  the  soma  in  Vedic  India,  and 
the  hiJ(uli  among  the  Huichols. 

Again,  if  we  consider  the  human  body,  we  shall  find  that 
each  organ  of  it  has  its  own  mystic  significance,  as  the  wide- 
spread practice  of  cannibalism  and  the  rites  connected  with 
human  sacrifices  (in  Mexico,  for  instance)  prove.  The  heart, 
liver,  kidney,  the  eyes,  the  fat,  marrow  and  so  on,  are 
reputed  to  procure  such  and  such  an  attribute  for  those  who 
feed  on  them.  The  orifices  of  the  body,  the  excreta  of  all 
kinds,  the  hair  and  nail-parings,  the  placenta  and  umbilical 
cord,  the  blood,  and  the  various  fluids  of  the  body,  can  all 
exercise  magic  influences.4  Collective  representations  at- 
tribute mystic  power  to  all  these  things,  and  many  wide- 
spread beliefs  and  practices  relate  to  this  power.  So,  too,  cer- 
tain parts  of  plants  and  animals  possess  peculiar  virtues. 
"Badi  is  the  name  given  to  the  evil  principle  which . . . 
attends  (like  an  evil  angel)  everything  in  his  life. . . .  Von  de 
Wall  describes  it  as  the  'enchanting  or  destroying  influence 
Nvhich  issues  from  anything;  for  example,  from  a  tiger  which 
one  sees,  from  a  poisonous  tree  which  one  passes  under, 
from  the  saliva  of  a  mid  dog,  from  an  action  which  one  has 
performed/"5 

Since  everything  that  exists  possesses  mystic  properties, 
and  these  properties,  from  their  very  nature,  are  much  more 
important  than  the  attributes  of  which  our  senses  inform  us, 
the  difference  between  animate  and  inanimate  things  is  not 
of  the  same  interest  to  primitive  mentality  as  it  is  to  our  own. 
As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  primitive's  mind  frequently  dis- 
regards it  altogether.  Thus  rocks,  the  form  or  position  of 
which  strike  the  primitive's  imagination,  readily  assume 
a  sacred  character  in  virtue  of  their  supposed  mystic  power. 
Similar  power  is  ascribed  to  the  rivers,  clouds,  winds. 
Districts  in  space,  direction  (the  points  of  the  compass),  have 
mystic  significance.  When  the  Australian  aborigines  as- 
semble in  large  numbers,  each  tribe,  and  each  totem  of  a 
tribe,  has  its  own  place,  a  place  assigned  to  it  by  virtue  of 
its  mystic  affinity  with  a  particular  spatial  region.  Facts  of 


EVOLUTION    OF    ATTITUDES  777 

a  similar  nature  have  been  noted  in  North  America.  I  shall 
not  lay  any  stress  on  the  rain,  lightning,  or  thunder,  the 
symbols  of  which  play  so  important  a  part  in  the  religious 
ceremonies  of  the  Zuiii,  the  Australian  aborigines,  and  all 
aggregates  where  a  prolonged  drought  is  a  serious  menace 
to  the  very  existence  of  the  group.  Finally,  in  Loango,  the 
soil  "is  something  more  to  the  Bafioti  than  the  scene  upon 
which  their  lives  are  played  out.  There  is  in  the  ground,  and 
there  issues  from  it,  a  vital  influence  which  permeates 
everything,  which  unites  the  present  and  the  past. . . .  All 
things  that  live  owe  their  powers  to  the  soil. . . .  The  people 
regard  their  land  as  a  fief  from  their  god ...  the  ground  i« 
sacred."  °  The  same  belief  obtains  among  the  North  Ameri- 
can Indians,  who  consider  it  sacrilege  to  till  the  ground,  for 
by  so  doing  they  would  run  a  risk  of  offending  the  mystic 
power  and  drawing  down  dire  calamities  upon  themselves. 
Even  things  made,  and  constantly  used,  by  man  have 
their  mystic  properties  and  can  become  beneficent:  or  terrify- 
ing according  to  circumstances.  Gushing,  who  had  lived 
among  the  Zunis,  had  made  them  adopt  him,  and  whose  un- 
usual versatility  of  mind  led  him  finally  to  think  like  them, 
says  that  they,  "no  less  than  primitive  peoples  generally, 
conceive  of  everything  made  . . .  whether  structure  or  uten- 
sil or  weapon, ...  as  living ...  a  still  sort  of  life,  but  as  potent 
and  aware  nevertheless  and  as  capable  as  functioning  not 
only  obdurately  and  resistingly,  but  also  actively  and  power- 
fully in  occult  ways,  either  for  good  or  for  evil.  As  for  living 
things,  they  observe,  every  animal  is  formed,  and  acts  or 
functions  according  to  its  form — the  feathered  and  winged 
bird  flying,  because  of  its  feathered  form,  the  furry  four- 
footed  animal  running  and  leaping,  and  the  scaly  and  finny 
fish  swimming. ...  So  the  things  made  or  born  in  their  spe- 
cial forms  by  the  hands  of  man  also  have  life  and  functions 
variously  according  to  their  various  forms."  Even  the  differ- 
ences in  the  claws  of  beasts,  for  example,  are  supposed  to 
make  the  difference  between  the  hugging  of  the  bear  and  the 
clutching  of  the  panther.  "The  forms  of  these  things  not  only 


J7^  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

give  their  power,  but  also  restrict  their  power,  so  that  if 
properly  made,  that  is  made  and  shaped  strictly  as  other 
things  of  their  kind  have  been  made  and  shaped,  the)  will 
perform  only  such  safe  uses  as  their  prototypes  have  been 
found  to  serve."  It  is  therefore  of  the  utmost  importance 
that  they  shall  be  faithfully  reproduced,  so  that  one  may 
not  have  to  fear  the  unknown  "powers"  which  a  fresh  form 
might  possess.7 

In  this  way,  according  to  Gushing,  we  can  account  for 
the  extraordinary  persistence  of  the  same  forms  among 
primitive  peoples,  including  even  the  most  minute  details 
of  the  ornamentation  with  which  they  decorate  the  prod- 
ucts of  their  industries  and  arts.  The  Indians  of  British 
Guiana,  for  instance,  "show  extraordinary  skill  in  many 
of  the  things  they  manufacture  but  they  never  improve 
upon  them.  They  make  them  exactly  as  their  fathers  did 
before  them."8  This  is  not,  as  we  have  been  told,  merely 
the  result  flf  habit,  and  of  a  spirit  of  conservatism  peculiar 
to  these  peoples.  It  is  the  direct  result  of  active  belief  in  the 
mystic  properties  of  the  things,  properties  connected  with 
their  shape,  and  which  can  be  controlled  through  this,  but 
which  would  be  beyond  the  power  of  man  to  regulate,  if 
there  were  the  slightest  change  of  form.  The  most  apparently 
trifling  innovation  may  lead  to  danger,  liberate  hostile 
forces,  and  finally  bring  about  the  ruin  of  its  instigator  and 
*ll  dependent  upon  him. 

In  the  same  way,  any  change  effected  by  manual  labor 
in  the  state  of  the  soil,  building,  digging,  mining,  the  mak- 
ing of  a  pavement  or  the  demolition  of  a  building,  or  even 
a  slight  modification  in  its  shape  by  the  addition  of  a  wing, 
may  be  the  cause  of  the  greatest  misfortunes. 

"Should  any  one  fall  suddenly  ill  and  die,"  says  De  Groot, 
"his  kindred  arc  immediately  ready  to  impute  the  cause 
to  somebody  who  has  ventured  to  make  a  change  in  the 
established  order  of  things,  or  who  has  made  an  improve- 
ment in  his  own  property. . . .  Instances  are  by  no  means  rare 
of  their  having  stormed  his  house,  demolished  his  furniture, 


t  EVOLUTION    OF    ATTITUDES  fi§ 

assailed  his  person. . . .  No  wonder  Chinamen  do  not  repair 
their  houses  until  they  are  ready  to  fall  and  become  un- 
inhabitable." 9  The  steeple  to  be  placed  on  the  Catholic 
church  in  Pekin  raised  such  a  storm  of  protestation  that  the 
erection  of  it  had  to  be  abandoned.  This  mystic  belief  is 
ultimately  associated  with  that  which  the  Chinese  call  the 
jungshui.  But  we  find  similar  instances  in  other  places. 
Thus,  in  the  Nicobar  Isles,  "some  of  the  chief  men  of  Mus, 
Lapati,  and  Kenmai  came  and  requested  me  to  postpone 
fixing  the  beacon  until  the  arrival  of  their  people  from 
Chowra,  for  they  said  that  in  consequence  of  this  new 
work,  and  of  a  tree  that  had  been  felled  down  by  Mr. 
Dobie  in  their  graveyard,  near  the  object,  the  sea  was  an- 
noyed and  had  caused  high  wind  and  big  surf,  until  they 
supposed  that  their  friends  would  be  drowned  at  sea." 10 

In  Loango,  "the  stranger  who  goes  away  must  not  de- 
molish his  buildings  or  lay  waste  his  plantations,  but  leave 
them  just  as  they  are.  That  is  the  reason  why  the  natives 
protest  when  Europeans  take  down  whole  houses  which 
they  had  built,  to  transport  them  elsewhere.  The  corner- 
stones and  pillars  at  least  should  not  be  taken  out  of  the 
ground — It  is  even  forbidden  to  carry  away  the  trunks 
of  trees,  10  make  excavations  for  mines,  and  so  forth.  A 
contractor  exposes  himself  to  serious  trouble  if,  consulting 
his  own  wishes,  he  is  so  presuming  as  to  make  a  new  path, 
even  if  much  shorter  and  more  convenient  than  the  one  in 
use," xl  This  i&  not  mere  misoneism,  the  dislike  of  any  change 
which  breaks  established  custom.  With  the  old  road,  they 
know  how  matters  stand,  but  they  are  ignorant  of  the  un- 
foreseen consequences,  possibly  calamitous,  which  might 
ensue  upon  the  abandonment  of  it  and  the  opening  up  of 
a  fresh  one.  A  road,  like  everything  else,  has  its  own  peculiar 
mystic  properties.  The  natives  of  Loango  say  of  an  aban- 
doned path  that  it  is  "dead."  To  them,  as  to  us,  such  an 
expression  is  metaphorical,  but  in  their  case  it  is  fraught 
with  meaning.  For  the  path,  "in  active  existence,"  has  its 
secret  powers,  like  houses,  weapons,  stones,  clouds,  plants, 


780  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

animals,  and  men — in  short,  like  everything  of  which  the 
primitive  has  a  group  idea.  "All  things  have  an  invisible  ex- 
istence as  well  as  a  visible  one,"  say  the  Igorots  of  the 
Philippine  Islands.12 

From  these  facts  and  many  similar  ones  which  we  might 
quote,  we  can  draw  one  conclusion:  primitives  perceive 
nothing  in  the  same  way  as  we  do.  The  social  milieu,  which 
surrounds  them,  differs  from  ours,  and  precisely  because 
it  is  different,  the  external  world  they  perceive  differs  from 
that  which  we  apprehend.  Undoubtedly  they  have  the  same 
senses  as  ours — rather  more  acute  than  ours  in  a  general 
way,  in  spite  of  our  persuasion  to  the  contrary — and  their 
cerebral  structure  is  like  our  own.  But  we  have  to  bear  in 
mind  that  which  their  collective  representations  instill  into 
all  their  perceptions.  Whatever  the  object  presented  to  their 
minds,  it  implies  mystic  properties  which  are  inextricably 
bound  up  with  it,  and  the  primitive,  in  perceiving  it,  never 
separates  these  from  it. 

To  him  there  is  no  phenomenon  which  is,  strictly  speak- 
ing, a  physical  one,  in  the  sense  in  which  we  use  the  term. 
The  rippling  water,  the  whistling  wind,  the  falling  rain, 
any  natural  phenomenon  whatever,  a  sound,  a  color — these 
things  are  never  perceived  by  him  as  they  are  by  us,  that  is, 
as  more  or  less  compound  movements  bearing  a  definite 
relation  to  preceding  and  to  subsequent  movements.  His  per- 
ceptive organs  have  indeed  grasped  the  displacement  of  a 
mass  of  material  as  ours  do;  familiar  objects  are  readily 
recognized  according  to  previous  experience;  in  short,  all 
the  physiological  and  psychological  processes  of  perception 
have  actually  taken  place  in  him  as  in  ourselves.  Its  result, 
however,  is  immediately  enveloped  in  a  state  of  complex 
consciousness,  dominated  by  collective  representations. 
Primitives  see  with  eyes  like  ours,  but  they  do  not  perceive 
with  the  same  minds.  We  might  almost  say  that  their  per- 
ceptions are  made  up  of  a  nucleus  surrounded  by  a  layer 
of  varying  density  of  representations  which  are  social  in 
their  origin.  And  yet  such  a  simile  seems  somewat  clumsy 


EVOLUTION    OF    ATTITUDES  78* 

and  inexact,  for  the  primitive  has  not  the  least  feeling  o{ 
such  a  nucleus  and  surrounding  layer;  it  is  we  who  sepa^ 
rate  them;  we,  who  by  virtue  of  our  mental  habits  cannot 
help  distinguishing  them.  To  the  primitive  the  complex 
representation  is  still  undifferentiatcd. 

The  profound  difference  which  exists  between  primitive 
mentality  and  our  own  is  shown  even  in  the  ordinary  per- 
ception or  mere  apprehension  of  the  very  simplest  things. 
Primitive  perception  is  fundamentally  mystic  on  account 
of  the  mystic  nature  of  the  collective  representations  which 
form  an  integral  part  of  every  perception.  Ours  has  ceased  to 
be  so,  at  any  rate  with  regard  to  most  of  the  objects  which 
surround  us.  Nothing  appears  alike  to  them  and  to  us.  For 
people  like  ourselves.,  speaking  the  language  familiar  to  us, 
there  is  insurmountable  difficulty  in  entering  into  their 
way  of  thinking.  The  longer  we  live  among  them,  the  more 
we  approximate  to  their  mental  attitude,  the  more  do  we 
realize  how  impossible  it  is  to  yield  to  it  entirely. 

It  is  not  correct  to  maintain,  as  is  frequently  done,  that 
primitives  associate  occult  powers,  magic  properties,  a  kind 
of  soul  or  vital  principle  with  all  the  objects  which  affect 
their  senses  or  strike  their  imagination,  and  that  their  per- 
ceptions arc  surcharged  with  animistic  beliefs.  It  is  not  a 
question  of  association.  The  mystic  properties  with  which 
things  and  beings  are  imbued  form  an  integral  part  of  the 
idea  to  the  primitive,  who  views  it  as  a  synthetic  whole. 
It  is  at  a  later  stage  of  social  evolution  that  what  we  call 
a  natural  phenomenon  tends  to  become  the  sole  content  of 
perception  to  the  exclusion  of  the  other  elements,  which  thei* 
assume  the  aspect  of  beliefs,  and  finally  appear  superstitions. 
But  as  long  as  this  "dissociation"  does  not  take  place,  per- 
ception remains  an  undifferentiated  whole.  We  might  call 
it  "polysynthetic,"  like  words  in  the  languages  spoken  by 
certain  primitive  peoples. 

In  the  same  way,  we  shall  find  ourselves  in  a  blind 
alley,  whenever  we  propound  a  question  in  such  terms  as: 
How  would  the  primitive's  mind  explain  this  or  that  natural 


/82  THEMAKINGOFMAN 

phenomenon?  The  very  enunciation  of  the  problem  implies 
a  false  hypothesis.  We  are  supposing  that  his  niind  appre- 
hends these  phenomena  like  our  own.  We  imagine  that  he 
simply  perceives  such  facts  as  sleep,  dreaming,  illness,  death, 
the  rise  and  decline  of  the  heavenly  bodies,  rain,  thunder, 
etc.,  and  then,  stimulated  by  the  principle  of  causality,  tries 
to  account  for  them.  But  to  the  mentality  of  undeveloped 
peoples,  there  are  no  natural  phenomena  such  as  we  under- 
stand by  the  term.  Their  mentality  has  no  need  to  seek  an 
explanation  of  them;  for  the  Explanation  is  implied  in  the 
mystic  elements  of  the  collective  representations  of  them. 
Therefore  problems  of  this  nature  must  be  inverted.  What 
we  must  seek  is  not  the  logical  process  which  might  have 
resulted  in  the  interpretation  of  phenomena,  for  this  men- 
tality never  perceives  the  phenomenon  as  distinct  from  the 
interpretation;  we  must  find  out  how  the  phenomenon  be- 
came by  degrees  detached  from  the  complex  in  which  it  first 
found  itself  enveloped,  so  that  it  might  be  apprehended 
separately,  and  how  what  originally  was  an  integral  part 
of  it  should  later  on  have  become  an  "explanation." 

ii 

The  very  considerable  part  played  by  collective  represen- 
tations in  the  primitive's  perceptions  does  not  result  alone 
in  impressing  a  mystic  character  upon  them.  The  same  cause 
leads  to  another  consequence,  and  these  perceptions  are 
accordingly  oriented  differently  from  our  own.  In  that  which 
our  perceptions  retain,  as  well  as  in  that  which  is  disregarded, 
the  chief  determining  factor  is  .the  amount  of  reliance  that 
we  can  place  upon  the  unvarying  reappearance  of  phe- 
nomena in  the  same  given  conditions.  They  conduce  to 
effect  the  maximum  "objective"  validity,  and,  as  a  result,  to 
eliminate  everything  prejudicial  or  merely  unnecessary  to 
this  objectivity.  From  this  standpoint,  too,  primitives  do  not 
perceive  as  we  do.  In  certain  cases  where  direct  practical 
interests  are  at  stake,  we  undoubtedly  find  that  they  pay 
great  attention  to,  and  arejpften  very  skillful  in  detecting 


EVOLUTION    OF    ATTITUDES  783 

differences  in,  impressions  which  are  very  similar,  and  in 
recognizing  external  signs  of  objects  or  phenomena,  upon 
which  their  subsistence,  and  possibly  even  their  lives,  depend. 
(The  shrewdness  of  the  Australian  aborigines  in  finding 
and  profiting  by  the  dew  which  has  fallen  during  the 
night,13  and  other  similar  facts,  are  an  example  of  this.) 
But,  even  setting  aside  that  which  these  fine  perceptions  owe 
to  training  and  memory,  we  still  find  that  in  most  cases 
primitives'  perceptive  powers,  instead  of  tending  to  reject 
whatever  would  lessen  objectivity,  lay  special  stress  upon 
the  mystic  properties,  the  occult  forces  of  beings  and  phe- 
nomena, and  are  thus  oriented  upon  factors  which,  to  us, 
appear  subjective,  although  to  primitives  they  are  at  least 
as  real  as  the  others.  This  characteristic  of  their  perceptions 
enables  them  to  account  for  certain  phenomena,  the  "ex- 
planation" of  which,  when  based  solely  upon  mental  or 
logical  processes  in  the  individual,  does  not  appear  adequate, 
It  is  a  well-known  fact  that  primitives,  even  members  of 
communities  which  are  already  somewhat  advanced,  regard 
artificial  likenesses,  whether  painted,  carved,  or  sculptured, 
as  real,  as  well  as  the  individual  they  depict.  "To  the  Chi- 
nese," says  De  Groot,  "associations  of  images  with  beings 
actually  becomes  identification,  both  materially  and  psy- 
chically. An  image,  especially  if  pictorial  or  sculptured,  and 
thus  approaching  close  to  the  reality,  is  an  alter  ego  of  the 
living  reality,  an  abode  of  the  soul,  nay  it  is  that  reality  itself. 
. . .  Such  intense  association  is,  in  fact,  the  very  backbone  of 
China's  inveterate  idolatry  and  fetish-worship." 14  In  support 
of  this  statement,  De  Groot  gives  a  long  series  of  tales 
which  seem  wholly  incredible,  but  which  Chinese  authors 
find  perfectly  natural.  A  young  widow  has  a  child  by  a 
clay  statue  of  her  husband;  portraits  are  endued  with  life; 
a  wooden  dog  starts  running;  paper  animals,  horses,  for 
instance,  act  exactly  like  living  animals;  an  artist,  meeting 
a  horse  of  a  certain  color  in  the  street,  recognizes  it  as  n 
work  of  his. . . .  From  these  the  transition  to  customs  which 
are  very  general  in  China  is  an  easy  one. . . .  Such  customs  aj 


784  THEMAKINGOFMAN 

placing  upon  the  tombs  of  the  dead  miniature  figures  of 
animals,  burning  paper  money  there,  for  instance. 

In  North  America,  the  Mandans  believe  that  the  portraits 
taken  by  Catlin  are  alive  like  their  subjects,  and  that  they 
rob  these  oi  part  of  their  vitality.  It  is  true  that  Catlin  is 
inclined  to  draw  a  long  bow,  and  his  stories  must  be  taken 
with  a  grain  of  salt.  In  this  respect,  however,  the  beliefs 
and  sentiments  he  attributes  to  the  Mandans  are  exactly  what 
we  find  noted  elsewhere  in  similar  circumstances.  "I  know," 
says  one  man,  "that  this  man  put  many  of  our  buffaloes  in 
his  booJ^,  for  I  was  with  him,  and  we  have  had  no  buffaloes 
since  to  eat,  it  is  true."  ls 

"They  pronounced  me  the  greatest  medicine-man  in  the 
world,"  writes  Catlin,  "for  they  said  I  had  made  living  beings 
— they  said  they  could  see  their  chiefs  alive  in  two  places — 
those  that  I  had  made  were  a  little  alive — they  could  see  their 
eyes  move — could  see  them  smile  and  laugh,  and  that  if  they 
could  laugh,  they  could  certainly  speak,  if  they  should  try, 
and  they  must  therefore  have  some  life  in  them."  16  There- 
fore, most  Indians  refused  him  permission  to  take  their 
likenesses.  It  would  be  parting  with  a  portion  of  their  own 
substance,  and  placing  them  at  the  mercy  of  any  one  who 
might  wish  to  possess  the  picture.  They  are  afraid,  too, 
of  finding  themselves  faced  by  a  portrait  which,  as  a  living 
thing,  may  exercise  a  harmful  influence. 

"We  had  placed,"  say  the  Jesuit  missionaries,  "images 
of  St.  Ignatius  and  St.  Xavier  upon  our  altar.  They  regarded 
them  with  amazement;  they  believed  them  to  be  living 
persons,  and  asked  whether  they  were  ondaqui  (plural  form 
of  wa\an,  supernatural  beings),  in  short,  that  which  they 
recognize  as  superior  to  humanity.  They  inquired  whether 
the  tabernacle  were  their  dwelling,  and  whether  these  on- 
daqui used  the  adornments  which  they  saw  around  the 
altar."17 

In  Central  Africa,  too,  "I  have  known  natives  refuse  to 
enter  a  room  where  portraits  were  hanging  on  the  walls, 
because  of  the  masol(a  souls  which  were  in  them." 18  The 


EVOLUTION    OF    ATTITUDES  785 

<ame  author  tells  the  story  of  a  chief  who  allowed  himself 
to  be  photographed,  and  who,  several  months  later,  fell  ill. 
In  accordance  with  his  request,  the  negative  had  been  sent 
to  England,  and  "his  illness  was  attributed  to  some  accident 
having  befallen  the  photographic  plate." 

Thus  the  similitude  can  take  the  place  of  the  model,  and 
possess  the  same  properties.  In  Loango,  the  followers  of  a 
certain  eminent  wonder-worker  used  to  make  a  wooden 
image  of  their  master,  imbued  it  with  "powers,"  and  gave 
it  the  name  of  the  original.  Possibly  even  they  would  ask 
their  master  to  make  his  own  substitute,  so  that  after  his 
death,  as  well  as  during  his  life,  they  could  use  it  in  perform- 
ing their  miracles.19  On  the  Slave  Coast,  if  one  of  twins  hap- 
pens to  die,  the  mother  ". . .  to  give  the  spirit  of  the  deceased 
child  something  to  enter  without  disturbing  the  survivor,  car- 
ries about,  with  the  latter,  a  little  wooden  figure,  about  seven 
or  eight  inches  long,  roughly  fashioned  in  human  shape,  and 
of  the  sex  of  the  dead  child.  Such  figures  are  nude,  as  an 
infant  would  be,  with  beads  around  the  waist." 20  With 
reference  to  the  Bororo  of  Brazil  we  read  "they  begged 
Wilhelm  most  earnestly  not  to  let  the  women  see  the 
drawings  he  had  made  of  the  bull-roarers;  for  the  sight  of 
the  drawings  would  kill  them  as  the  real  things  would." 21 
Many  similar  instances  had  already  been  collected  b/ 
Tylor.22 

Are  these  to  be  explained  from  a  purely  psychological 
point  of  view,  as  is  so  frequently  the  case,  by  the  associa- 
tion of  ideas?  Must  we  say,  with  De  Groot,  that  it  is  im- 
possible for  them  to  distinguish  a  mere  resemblance  from 
identity,  and  admit  that  primitives  suffer  from  the  same  illu- 
sions as  the  child  who  believes  her  doll  to  be  alive?  First 
of  all,  however,  it  is  difficult  to  decide  whether  the  child 
herself  is  quite  sure  of  it.  Perhaps  her  belief  is  part  of  the 
game  and  at  the  same  time  sincere,  like  the  emotions  of 
grown-up  people  at  the  theater,  shedding  real  tears  about 
misfortunes  which  they  nevertheless  kno^V  to  be  but  feigned, 
On  the  contrary,  it  is  impossible  to  doubt  that  the  primi- 


786  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

fives'  beliefs  which  I  have  just  mentioned  are  serious;  their 
actions  prove  it.  How  then  can  a  portrait  be  "materially 
and  psychically"  identified  with  its  original?  To  my  mind, 
it  is  not  on  account  of  a  childish  trust  in  analogy,  nor  from 
mental  weakness  and  confusion;  it  is  not  due  to  a  nai've 
generalization  of  the  animist  theory,  either.  It  is  because,  in 
perceiving  the  similitude,  as  in  looking  at  the  original,  tradi- 
tional collective  representations  imbue  it  with  the  same 
mystic  elements. 

If  primitives  view  the  pictured  resemblance  differently 
Irom  ourselves,  it  is  because  they  view  the  original  other- 
Wise  also.  In  the  latter  we  note  its  objective  and  actual 
characteristics,  and  those  only:  the  shape,  size,  and  propor- 
tions'of  the  body;  the  color  of  the  eyes;  the  facial  expression, 
and  so  forth;  we  find  these  reproduced  in  the  picture,  and 
there  too,  we  find  these  alone.  But  to  the  primitive,  with 
his  perceptions  differently  oriented,  these  objective  features, 
if  he  apprehends  them  as  we  do,  are  neither  the  only  ones 
nor  the  most  important;  most  frequently,  they  are  but  the 
symbols  or  instruments  of  occult  forces  and  mystic 
powers  such  as  every  being,  especially  a  living  being,  can 
display.  As  a  natural  consequence,  therefore,  the  image  of 
such  a  being  would  also  present  the  mingling  of  character- 
istics which  we  term  objective  and  of  mystic  powers.  It  will 
live  and  prove  beneficial  or  malevolent  like  the  being  it  re- 
produces; it  will  be  its  surrogate.  Accordingly  we  find  that 
the  image  of  an  unknown — and  consequently  dreaded — 
object  often  inspires  extraordinary  dread.  "I  had,"  says 
Father  Hennepin,  "a  pot  about  three  feet  high  shaped  like 
a  lion,  which  we  used  for  cooking  our  food  in  during  the 
voyage. . . .  The  savages  never  ventured  to  touch  it  with  their 
hands  unless  they  had  previously  covered  them  with 
beaver  skins.  They  imparted  such  terror  of  it  to  their  wives 
that  the  latter  had  it  fastened  to  the  branches  of  a  tree,  for 
otherwise  they  would  not  have  dared  to  sleep  or  even  enter 
the  hut  if  it  were  inside.  We  wished  to  make  a  present  of  it 
to  some  of  the  chiefs,  but  they  would  neither  accept  it  nor 


EVOLUTION    OF    ATTITUDES  787 

make  use  of  it,  because  they  feared  that  it  concealed  some  evil 
spirit  which  mignt  have  killed  them." 23  We  know  that 
these  Indians  in  the  valley  of  the  Mississippi  had  never  be- 
fore seen  a  white  man,  or  a  lion,  or  a  cooking  utensil.  The 
likeness  of  an  animal  they  did  not  know  awakened  in 
them  the  same  mystic  fears  that  its  appearance  among 
them  would  have  done. 

This  identification  which  appears  so  strange  to  us  must, 
therefore  occur  naturally.  It  does  not  arise  out  of  gross, 
mental  hallucination  or  childish  confusion  of  ideas.  As  soon 
as  we  realize  how  primitives  view  entities,  we  see  that  they 
view  reproductions  of  them  in  exactly  the  same  way.  If  their 
perceptions  of  the  originals  cearcd  to  be  mystic,  their 
images  would  also  lose  their  mystic  properties.  They  would 
no  longer  appear  to  be  alive,  but  would  be  what  they  are  to 
our  minds — merely  material  reproductions. 

In  the  second  place,  primitives  regard  their  names  as 
something  concrete  and  real,  and  frequently  sacred.  Here 
are  a  few  of  the  many  proofs  of  it. 

"The  Indian  regards  his  name,  not  as  a  mere  label,  but 
as  a  distinct  part  of  his  personality,  just  as  much  as  are 
his  eyes  or  his  teeth,  and  believes  that  injury  will  result  as 
surely  from  the  malicious  handling  of  his  name  as  from  a 
wound  inflicted  on  any  part  of  his  physical  organism.  This 
belief  was  found  among  the  various  tribes  from  the  Atlantic 
to  the  Pacific."  24  On  the  East  African  coast,  "there  is  a 
real  and  material  connection  between  a  man  an^  his  name, 
and,.. by  means  of  the  name  injury  may  be  done  to  the 
man. ...  In  consequence  of  this  belief  the  name  of  the  king 
...  is  always  kept  secret. ...  It  appears  strange  that  the  birth- 
name  only,  and  not  alias,  should  be  believed  capable  ol 
carrying  some  of  the  personality  of  the  bearer  elsewhere  . . , 
but  the  native  view  seems  to  be  that  the  alias  does  not  reall) 
belong  to  the  man." 25 

Accordingly  all  kinds  of  precaution^  become  necessary. 
A  man  will  avoid  uttering  his  own  name 26  and  the  names 
of  others,  while  the  names  of  the  dead,  above  all,  will  never 


788  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

be  pronounced;  very  frequently,  too,  even  ordinary  words 
in  which  the  name  of  a  dead  person  is  implied  will  fall 
into  desuetude.  Alluding  to  a  name  is  the  same  thing  a? 
laying  hands  on  the  very  person  or  being  that  bears  the 
name.  It  is  making  an  attack  upon  him,  outraging  his  in- 
dividuality, or  again,  it  is  invoking  his  presence  and  fon> 
ing  him  to  appear,  a  proceeding  which  may  be  fraught 
with  very  great  danger.  There  are  excellent  reasons,  there- 
fore, for  avoiding  such  a  practice.  "When  they  (the 
Santals)  are  hunting  and  see  a  leopard  or  a  tiger  they  will 
always  call  the  attention  of  their  companions  to  the  fact 
by  calling  out  *a  cat,'  or  some  similar  name."  27  With  the 
Cherokees,  too,  "it  is  never  said  that  a  person  has  been 
bitten  by  a  snake,  but  that  he  has  been  'scratched  by  a 
brier.'  In  the  same  way,  when  an  eagle  has  been  shot  for 
a  ceremonial  dance,  it  is  announced  that  ca  snow-bird  has 
been  killed,'  the  purpose  being  to  deceive  the  rattlesnake 
or  eagle  spirits  which  might  be  listening."28  The  War- 
ramunga,  instead  of  mentioning  the  snake  Wollunqua  by 
its  name  when  speaking  of  it,  call  it  Urfyilu  nappaurima, 
"because,"  say  they,  "if  they  were  to  call  it  too  often  by 
its  right  name,  they  would  lose  their  control  over  it,  and 
it  would  come  out  and  eat  them  all  up." 20 

At  the  beginning  of  a  fresh  epoch  in  his  life — at  his  initi- 
ation, for  instance — an  individual  receives  a  new  name,  and 
it  is  the  same  when  he  is  admitted  to  a  secret  society.  A 
town  changes  its  name  to  indicate  that  it  is  commencing 
a  new  era;  Yedo  becomes  Tokyo.80  A  name  is  never  a 
matter  of  indifference;  it  implies  a  whole  series  of  relation- 
ships between  the  man  who  bears  it  and  the  source  whence 
it  is  derived.  "A  name  implies  relationship,  and  conse- 
quently protection;  favor  and  influence  are  claimed  from 
the  source  of  the  name,  whether  this  be  the  gens  or  the 
vision.  A  name,  therefore,  shows  the  affiliation  of  the  indi- 
vidual; it  grades  him,  so  to  speak."81  In  British  Columbia, 
"names,  apart  from  the  staz  or  nickname,  are  never  used 
as  mere  appellations  to  distinguish  one  person  from  an- 


EVOLUTION    OF    ATTITUDES  789 

other,  as  among  ourselves,  nor  do  they  seem  to  have  been, 
used  ordinarily  as  terms  of  address.  They  are  primarily 
terms  of  relation  or  affiliation,  with  historic  and  mystic 
reference.  They  were  reserved  for  special  and  ceremonial 
occasions.  The  ordinary  terms  of  address  among  the  Salish 
tribes,  as  among  other  primitive  peoples,  were  those  ex- 
pressive of  age."32  With  the  Kwakiutl,  "each  clan  has  4 
certain  limited  number  of  names.  Each  individual  has 
only  one  name  at  a  time.  The  bearers  of  these  names  form 
the  nobility  of  the  tribe.  When  a  man  receives  the  totem 
of  his  father-in-law,  he  at  the  same  time  receives  his  name, 
while  the  father-in-law  gives  up  the  name,  and  takes  what 
is  called  'an  old  man's  name/  which  does  not  belong  to  the 
names  constituting  the  nobility  of  the  tribe." 33  Finally  De 
Groot  notes  that  "the  Chinese  have  a  tendency  to  identify 
names  with  the  persons  who  bear  them,  a  tendency  which 
may  be  classed  on  a  level  with  their  inability,  already  illus- 
trated by  numerous  instances,  of  clearly  discriminating  be- 
tween semblances  or  symbols  and  the  realities  which  these 
tall  to  mind." 34 

This  last  comparison  seems  perfectly  correct,  to  my  mind, 
and  I  think,  as  De  Groot  does,  that  the  same  cause  may 
account  for  both  tendencies.  This  cause  is  not  to  be  found 
in  a  childish  association  of  ideas,  however.  It  is  in  the  col- 
lective representations  which  form  an  integral  part  of 
their  perception  of  the  likeness  and  the  name  which  be- 
tokens them.  The  reality  of  the  similitude  is  of  the  same 
kind  as  that  of  the  original — that  is,  essentially  mystic,  and 
it  is  the  same  with  the  reality  of  the  name.  The  two  cases 
are  alike  except  in  one  point — that  which  appeals  to  the 
sight  in  the  first  case,  appeals  to  the  hearing  in  the  second, 
but  otherwise  the  process  is  identical.  The  mystic  prop- 
erties in  the  name  are  not  separated  from  those  in  the 
being  they  connote.  To  us  the  name  of  a  person,  an  animal, 
a  family,  a  town,  has  the  purely  external  significance  of  a 
label  which  allows  us  to  discern  without  any  possibility 
of  confusion  who  the  person  is,  to  what  species  the  animal 


790  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

belongs,  which  family  and  which  town  it  is.  To  the  primi- 
tive, however,  the  designation  of  the  being  or  object,  which 
seems  to  us  the  sole  function  of  the  name,  appears  a  mere 
accessory  and  of  secondary  importance;  many  observers 
expressly  state  that  that  is  not  the  real  function  of  the 
name.  To  make  up  for  this,  there  are  very  important 
functions  of  which  our  names  are  deprived.  The  name  ex- 
presses and  makes  real  the  relationship  of  the  individual 
with  his  totemic  group;  with  the  ancestor  of  whom  he  is 
frequently  a  reincarnation;  with  the  particular  totem  or 
guardian  angel  who  has  been  revealed  to  him  in  a  dream; 
with  the  invisible  powers  who  protect  the  secret  societies 
'o  which  he  belongs,  etc.  How  does  this  arise?  Evidently 
because  beings  and  objects  do  not  present  themselves  to  the 
primitive's  mind  apart  from  the  mystic  properties  which 
these  relations  involve.  As  a  natural  consequence,  names 
derive  their  characteristic  from  the  characteristics  of  these 
same  beings  and  objects.  The  name  is  mystic,  as  the  repro- 
duction is  mystic,  because  the  perception  of  things,  oriented 
differently  from  our  own,  through  the  collective  represen- 
tations, is  mystic. 

We  can  therefore  extend  also  to  names  Cushing's  acute 
reflections,  already  quoted,  with  regard  to  the  forms  of  ob- 
jects. Names  condition  and  define  the  occult  powers  of  the 
beings  who  participate  in  them.  Hence  are  derived  the 
feelings  and  fears  they  awaken,  and  the  precautions  to  which 
these  fears  lead.  The  problem  is  not  to  discover  how  the 
simple  term  "is  associated"  with  mystic  elements  which  are 
never  separable  from  it  in  the  minds  of  primitives.  What 
is  given  is  the  ensemble  of  collective  representations  of  a 
mystic  nature  expressed  by  the  name.  The  actual  problem  is 
lo  ascertain  how  these  collective  representations  become 
gradually  impaired  and  dissociated,  how  they  have  assumed 
the  form  of  "beliefs"  less  and  less  closely  "attached"  to 
the  name,  until  the  moment  arrives  when,  as  with  us,  it 
serves  but  as  a  distinctive  designation. 

The  primitive  is,  as  we  know,  no  less  careful  about  his 


EVOLUTION    OF    ATTITUDES  7<J/ 

shadow  than  he  is  about  his  name  or  his  counterfeit  present* 
ment.  If  he  were  to  lose  it  he  would  consider  himself 
hopelessly  endangered.  Should  it  come  into  the  power  of 
another,  he  has  everything  to  dread.  Folklore  of  all  coun* 
tries  has  made  us  familiar  with  facts  of  this  kind;  we 
shall  cite  but  a  few  of  them  only.  In  the  Fiji  Islands,  as  in 
many  places  inhabited  by  people  of  a  similar  stage  of 
development,  it  is  a  mortal  insult  to  walk  upon  anybody 
else's  shadow.  In  East  Africa,  murders  are  sometimes  com- 
mitted by  means  of  a  knife  or  nail  thrust  through  the 
shadow  of  a  man;  if  the  guilty  person  is  caught  in  the  act 
he  is  executed  forthwith.  Miss  Kingsley,  in  reporting  this 
fact,  shows  clearly  to  what  extent  the  West  African  negroes 
dread  the  loss  of  their  shadow.  "It  strikes  one  as  strange," 
she  writes,  "to  see  men  who  have  been  walking,  say, 
through  forest  or  grass  land,  on  a  blazing  hot  morning 
quite  happily,  on  arrival  at  a  piece  of  clear  ground  of  a 
village  square,  most  carefully  go  round  it,  not  across,  and 
you  will  soon  notice  that  they  only  do  this  at  noon- 
time, and  learn  that  they  fear  losing  their  shadow.  I  asked 
some  Bakwiri  1  once  came  across  who  were  particularly 
careful  in  this  matter,  why  they  were  not  anxious  about 
losing  their  shadows  when  night  came  down  and  they 
disappeared  in  the  surrounding  darkness,  and  was  told 
that  was  all  right,  because  at  night  all  shadows  lay  down 
in  the  shadow  of  the  Great  God,  and  so  got  stronger. 
Had  I  not  seen  how  strong  and  how  long  a  shadow,  be  it 
of  man  or  tree  or  of  the  great  mountain  itself,  was  in  the 
early  morning  time?"85 

De  Groot  notes  similar  precautions  in  China.  "When 
the  lid  is  about  to  be  placed  on  the  coffin,  most  of  the 
bystanders,  not  belonging  to  the  nearest  kindred,  retire 
a  few  steps,  or  even  make  off  for  the  side  apartments,  as  it 
is  dangerous  to  health  and  detrimental  to  good  luck  to 
have  one's  shadow  enclosed  in  a  coffin." 86  What  then  is 
the  shadow?  It  is  not  the  exact  equivalent  of  what  we 
call  the  soul;  but  it  is  of  the  nature  of  the  soul,  and  where 


792  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

the  soul  is  represented  as  multiple,  the  shadow  (according 
to  Miss  Kingsley)  is  sometimes  one  of  the  souls.  On  his 
side,  De  Groot  says:  "We  find  nothing  in  the  books  of 
China  which  points  positively  to  identification  of  shadows 
and  souls." 37  But,  on  the  other  hand,  ghosts  have  no  shad- 
ows. And  De  Groot  concludes  by  saying  that  "the  shadow 
is  a  part  of  the  personality  which  has  an  immense  influence 
on  his  destiny,"  a  characteristic  which  applies  equally,  as 
we  have  seen,  to  a  person's  picture  or  his  name. 

I  shall  therefore  refer  it  to  the  same  theory.  If  we  ask 
ourselves:  how  has  the  primitive  come  to  associate  with 
the  idea  of  his  shadow  beliefs  which  we  find  to  be  almost 
universal?  we  might  reply  by  an  ingenious  explanation, 
and  one  which  would  be  psychologically  probable,  but  it 
would  be  unsound,  because  the  problem  cannot  be  pro- 
pounded in  such  terms  as  these.  To  enunciate  it  thus  would 
be  to  imply  that  the  idea  of  his  shadow  to  the  primitive 
is  the  same  as  to  us,  and  the  rest  is  superimposed.  Now  it 
really  is  nothing  like  that.  The  perception  of  the  shadow, 
is  of  the  body  itself,  like  that  of  the  image  or  the  name, 
is  a  mystic  perception,  in  which  that  which  we  properly 
call  the  shadow — the  design  upon  the  ground  of  a  figure 
which  recalls  the  form  of  a  being  or  object  lighted  from 
the  opposite  side — is  only  one  element  among  many.  We 
have  not  to  discover  how  the  perception  of  the  shadow  has 
been  placed  in  juxtaposition  or  united  with  such  and  such 
a  representation:  these  indeed  form  an  integral  part  of  the 
perception,  so  far  as  we  can  trace  it  in  past  observations. 
For  this  reason  I  should  be  prepared  to  take  up  a  counter- 
position  to  that  of  De  Groot.  "The  Chinese,"  he  says,  "are 
even  to  these  days  without  ideas  of  the  physical  causation 
of  shadows. . . .  They  must  needs  see  in  a  shadow  something 
more  than  a  negation  of  light." 88 1,  on  the  contrary,  should 
say:  the  Chinese,  having  a  mystic  perception  of  the  shadow, 
as  participating  in  the  life  and  all  the  properties  of  the 
tangible  body,  cannot  represent  it  as  a  mere  "negation  of 
light."  To  be  able  to  see  a  purely  physical  phenomenon 


EVOLUTION    OF    ATTITUDES  793 

in  the  production  of  the  shadow,  it  would  be  necessary  to 
have  an  idea  of  such  a  phenomenon,  and  we  know  that 
such  an  idea  is  lacking  to  the  primitive.  In  undeveloped 
communities,  there  is  no  perception  unaccompanied  by 
mystic  qualities  and  occult  properties,  and  why  should  the 
shadow  be  any  exception? 

Finally,  the  same  considerations  apply  equally  to  an- 
other class  of  phenomena — dreams — which  occupy  an  im- 
portant place  in  the  primitive  mind.  To  primitives  the 
dream  is  not,  as  it  is  to  us,  simply  a  manifestation  of  mental 
activity  which  occurs  during  sleep,  a  more  or  less  orderly 
series  of  representations  to  which,  when  awake,  the  dreamer 
would  give  no  credence,  because  they  lack  the  conditions 
essential  to  objective  validity.  This  last  characteristic, 
though  it  does  not  escape  the  primitives,  seems  to  interest 
them  but  slightly.  On  the  other  hand,  the  dream,  to  them, 
is  of  far  greater  significance  than  to  us.  It  is  first  a  percept 
as  real  as  those  of  the  waking  state,  but  above  all,  it  is  a 
prevision  of  the  future,  a  communication  and  intercourse 
with  spirits,  souls,  divinities,  a  means  of  establishing  a 
relation  with  their  own  special  guardian  angel,  and  even 
of  discovering  who  this  may  be.  Their  confidence  in  the 
reality  of  that  which  the  dream  makes  known  to  them 
is  very  profound.  Tylor,  Frazer,  and  the  representatives 
of  the  English  school  of  anthropology  have  brought  to- 
gether a  vast  number  of  facts  which  bear  witness  to  this, 
collected  by  investigators  of  primitive  peoples  of  the  most 
diverse  types.  Shall  I,  too,  quote  some?  In  Australia  "some- 
times a  man  dreams  that  some  one  has  got  some  of  his 
hair  or  a  piece  of  his  food,  or  of  his  possum  rug,  or  indeed 
anything  almost  that  he  has  used.  If  he  dreams  this  several 
times  he  feels  sure  of  it  and  calls  his  friends  together,  and 
tells  them  of  his  dreaming  too  much  about  'that  man,'  who 
must  have  something  belonging  to  him. . . .  Sometimes  na- 
tives only  know  about  having  their  fat  taken  out  by  remem- 
bering something  of  it  as  in  a  drearn."89 

That  which  to  us  is  perception  is  to  him  mainly  the 


794  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

communication  with  spirits,  souls,  invisible  and  intangible 
mysterious  powers  encompassing  him  on  all  sides,  upon 
which  his  fate  depends,  and  which  loom  larger  in  his 
consciousness  than  the  fixed  and  tangible  and  visible  ele- 
ments of  his  representations.  He  has  therefore  no  reason 
to  depreciate  the  dream,  and  consider  it  as  a  subjective 
and  dubious  representation,  in  which  he  must  place  no 
trust.  The  dream  is  not  a  form  of  inferior  and  illusory 
perception.  On  the  contrary,  it  is  a  highly  favored  form, 
one  in  which,  since  its  material  and  tangible  elements  are 
at  a  minimum,  the  communication  with  invisible  spirits 
and  forces  is  most  direct  and  most  complete. 

This  accounts  for  the  confidence  which  the  primitive  has 
in  his  dreams,  a  confidence  which  is  at  least  as  great  as 
that  he  accords  his  ordinary  perceptions.  It  accounts  also 
for  his  seeking  after  means  of  procuring  dreams  which  shall 
be  revelatory  and,  among  the  North  American  Indians, 
for  instance,  for  the  whole  technique  of  securing  the  sin- 
cerity and  validity  of  dreams.  Thus  the  young  man,  ar- 
rived at  the  age  of  initiation,  who  is  going  to  try  and  see 
in  a  dream  the  animal  which  will  be  his  guardian  angel, 
his  personal  totem,  has  to  prepare  himself  for  this  purpose 
by  carrying  out  a  series  of  observances.  "He  first  purifies 
himself  by  the  impi  or  steam  bath,  and  by  fasting  for  a 
term  of  three  days.  During  the  whole  of  this  time,  he 
avoids  women  and  society,  is  secluded  in  his  habits  and 
endeavors  in  every  way  to  be  pure  enough  to  receive  a 
revelation  from  the  deity  whom  he  invokes" . . .  then  he 
subjects  himself  to  various  tortures  "until  the  deities  have 
vouchsafed  him  a  vision  or  revelation."40 

This,  too,  accounts  for  the  deference  and  respect  shown 
to  dreamers,  seers,  prophets,  sometimes  even  to  lunatics. 
A  special  power  of  communicating  with  invisible  reality, 
that  is,  a  peculiarly  privileged  perception,  is  attributed  to 
them.  All  these  well-known  facts  naturally  result  from  the 
orientation  of  the  collective  representations  which  obtains 
in  primitive  peoples,  and  which  endows  with  mysticism 


EVOLUTION    OF    ATTITUDES  795 

both  the  real  world  in  which  the  "savage"  dwells,  and  his 
perception  of  it. 

in 

Further  differences  between  the  primitives'  perception 
and  our  own  arise  out  of  this  mystic  character.  To  us  one 
of  the  essential  signs  by  which  we  recognize  the  objective 
validity  of  a  perception  is  that  the  being  or  phenomenon 
perceived  appears  to  all  alike  under  the  same  conditions. 
If,  for  instance,  one  person  alone  among  a  number  present 
hears  a  certain  sound  repeatedly,  or  sees  an  object  close 
by,  we  say  that  he  or  she  is  subject  to  delusions,  or  has  a 
hallucination.  Leibniz,  Taine,  and  many  others  have  insisted 
upon  the  agreement  between  the  subjects  who  are  perceiv- 
ing as  a  means  of  distinguishing  between  real  "and  imag- 
inary phenomena."  Current  opinion  on  this  point,  too, 
is  wholly  on  the  side  of  the  philosophers.  With  the  primi- 
tives, on  the  contrary,  it  constantly  happens  that  beings 
or  things  manifest  themselves  to  certain  persons  to  the  ex- 
clusion of  others  who  may  be  present.  No  one  is  aston- 
ished at  this,  for  all  regard  it  as  perfectly  natural.  Howitt 
writes,  for  instance:  "Of  course,  the  Ngarang  was  invisible 
to  all  but  the  wirarap  (medicine-man)."41  A  young  medi- 
cine-man in  training,  who  is  telling  of  his  initiation,  re- 
marks: "After  that  I  used  to  see  things  that  my  mother 
could  not  see.  When  out  with  her  I  would  say,  'Mother, 
what  is  that  out  there  yonder?'  She  used  to  say,  'Child, 
there  is  nothing.'  These  were  the  jir  (or  ghosts)  which  I 
began  to  see."4"  The  aborigines  observed  by  Spencer  and 
Gillen  think  that  during  the  night  the  sun  visits  the  place 
where  it  arises  in  the  morning,  "and  that  it  might  actually 
be  seen  at  night  times  by ...  clever  medicine-men,  and 
the  fact  that  it  cannot  be  seen  by  ordinary  persons  only 
means  that  they  are  not  gifted  with  sufficient  power,  and 
not  that  it  is  not;  there." 43  In  their  case,  qs  with  many  other 
aggregates  of  the  same  stage  of  development,  the  medicine- 
man extracts  from  the  body  of  the  sufferer  a  small  object 


796  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

only  visible  to  the  operator.  "After  much  mysterious  search- 
ing he  finds  and  cuts  the  string  which  is  invisible  to  every 
one  except  himself.  There  is  not  a  doubt  amongst  the 
onlookers  as  to  its  having  been  there."44  In  the  form  of 
witchcraft  which  the  Australian  aborigines  called  "point- 
ing the  death  bone,"  a  complicated  series  of  operations 
Would  be  carried  on  without  any  one's  perceiving  them. 
"The  blood  of  the  victim,  in  some  fashion  which  is  unper- 
ceived,  flows  from  him  to  the  medicine-man,  and  thence 
to  the  receptacle  where  it  is  collected;  at  the  same  time,  by 
a  corresponding  movement  a  bone,  a  magic  stone  proceeds 
from  the  body  of  the  sorcerer  to  the  body  of  his  victim — 
still  invisibly — and,  entering  there,  induces  a  fatal  malady."  45 

We  find  the  same  beliefs  in  Eastern  Siberia.  "In  the 
Alarsk  department  of  the  Government  of  Irkutsk  ...  if  any 
one's  child  becomes  dangerously  ill,  the  Buryats . . .  believe 
that  the  crown  of  his  head  is  being  sucked  by  Onokhoi,  a 
small  beast  in  the  form  of  a  mole  or  cat. . . .  No  one  except 
the  shaman  can  see  this  beast." 4G 

In  North  America,  among  the  Klamaths  of  Oregon,  the 
J(iuJ(s  (medicine-man)  who  is  called  to  treat  a  case  of  dis- 
ease must  consult  the  spirits  of  certain  animals.  "Such 
persons  only  as  have  been  trained  during  five  years  for 
the  profession  of  conjurers  can  see  these  spirits,  but  by  them 
they  are  seen  as  clearly  as  we  see  the  objects  around  us."  4T 
"Dwarfs  can  be  seen  only  by  those  initiated  into  the  mys- 
teries of  witchcraft."48  Among  the  Tarahumares  "large 
serpents,  which  only  the  shaman  can  see,  are  thought  to 
live  in  the  rivers.  They  have  horns  and  very  big  eyes."49 
"The  great  Hikuli"  (a  sacred  plant  personified)  "eats  with 
the  shaman,  who  alone  is  able  to  see  him  and  his  com- 
panions."50 In  one  of  the  Huichol  ceremonies,  the  heads 
of  the  does  are  placed  with  the  heads  of  the  bucks,  because 
they,  too,  have  horns,  "though  only  the  shaman  sees 
them."51 

All  such  phenomena  are  to  be  expected  if  it  be  true  that 
the  perception  of_  primitives  is  oriented  differently  from 


EVOLUTION    OF    ATTITUDES  797 

our  own,  and  not  preeminently  concerned,  as  ours  is,  with 
the  characteristics  of  the  beings  and  manifestations  which 
we  call  objective.  To  them  the  most  important  properties 
of  the  beings  and  objects  they  perceive,  are  their  occult 
powers,  their  mystic  qualities.  Now  one  of  these  powers 
is  that  of  appearing  or  not  appearing  in  given  circum- 
stances. Either  the  power  is  inherent  in  the  subject  who 
perceives,  who  has  been  prepared  for  it  by  initiation,  or 
else  holds  it  by  virtue  of  his  participation  in  some  superior 
being,  and  so  on.  In  short,  mystic  relations  may  be  estab- 
lished between  certain  persons  and  certain  beings,  on  ac- 
count of  which  these  persons  are  exclusively  privileged 
to  perceive  these  beings.  Such  cases  are  analogous  to  the 
dream.  The  primitive,  far  from  regarding  the  mystic  per- 
ception in  which  he  has  no  part,  as  suspect,  sees  in  it,  as 
in  the  dream,  a  more  precious,  and  consequently  more 
significant  communication  with  invisible  spirits  and  forces, 

IV 

Conversely,  when  collective  representations  imply  the 
presence  of  certain  qualities  in  objects,  nothing  will  per- 
suade the  primitives  that  they  do  not  exist.  To  us,  the 
fact  that  we  do  not  perceive  them  there  is  decisive.  It 
does  not  prove  to  them  that  they  are  not  there,  for  possibly 
it  is  their  nature  not  to  reveal  themselves  to  perception,  or 
to  manifest  themselves  in  certain  conditions  only.  Conse- 
quently, that  which  we  call  experience,  and  which  decides, 
as  far  as  we  are  concerned,  what  may  be  admitted  or  not 
admitted  as  real,  has  no  effect  upon  collective  representa- 
tions. Primitives  have  no  need  of  this  experience  to  vouch 
for  the  mystic  properties  of  beings  and  objects:  and  for 
the  same  reason  they  are  quite  indifferent  to  the  disappoint- 
ments it  may  afford.  Since  experience  is  limited  to  what  is 
stable,  tangible,  visible,  and  approachable,  in  physical  reality, 
it  allows  the  most  important  of  all,  the  occult  powers,  to 
escape.  Hence  we  can  find  no  example  of  the  non-success 
of  a  magic  practice  discouraging  those  who  believe  in  it* 


798  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

Livingstone  gives  an  account  of  a  prolonged  discussion 
which  he  had  with  the  rain-makers,  and  ends  by  saying: 
"I  have  never  been  able  to  convince  a  single  one  of  them 
that  their  arguments  are  unsound.  Their  belief  in  these 
'charms'  of  their«  is  unbounded." 62  In  the  Nicobar  Islands, 
"the  people  in  all  the  villages  have  now  performed  the 
ceremony  called  tanangla,  signifying  either  'support'  or  'pre- 
vention.' Its  object  is  to  prevent  illness  caused  by  the  north 
cast  monsoon.  Poor  Nicobarese!  They  do  the  same  thing 
year  after  year,  but  to  no  effect."  °3 

Experience  is  peculiarly  unavailing  against  the  belief  in 
the  virtues  of  "fetishes"  which  secure  invulnerability:  a 
Tnethod  of  interpreting  what  happens  in  a  sense  which 
favors  the  belief  is  never  lacking.  In  one  case  an  Ashanti, 
having  procured  a  fetish  of  this  kind,  hastened  to  put  it 
to  the  proof,  and  received  a  gunshot  wound  which  broke 
his  arm.  The  "fetish  man"  explained  the  matter  to  the 
satisfaction  of  all,  saying  that  the  incensed  fetish  had  that 
moment  revealed  the  reason  to  him.  It  was  because  the 
young  man  had  had  sexual  relations  with  his  wife  on  a 
forbidden  day.  The  wounded  man  confessed  that  this  was 
true,  and  the  Ashantis  retained  their  convictions.64  Du 
Chaillu  tells  us  that  when  a  native  wears  an  iron  chain 
round  his  neck  he  is  proof  against  bullets.  If  the  charm 
is  not  effectual,  his  faith  in  its  remains  unshaken,  for  then 
he  believes  that  some  maleficent  wonder-worker  has  pro- 
duced a  powerful  "counter-spell,"  to  which  he  falls  a  vie 
tim.55  Elsewhere  he  says:  "As  I  came  from  seeing  the 
king,  I  shot  at  a  bird  sitting  upon  a  tree,  and  missed  it.  I 
had  been  taking  quinine,  and  was  nervous.  But  the  negroes 
standing  around  at  once  proclaimed  that  this  was  a  fetish- 
bird,  and  therefore  I  could  not  shoot  it.  I  fired  again,  and 
missed  again.  Hereupon  they  grew  triumphant  in  their 
declarations,  while  I ...  loaded  again,  took  careful  aim,  and 
to  my  own  satisfaction  and  their  dismay,  brought  my  bird 
down.  Immediately  they  explained  that  I  was  a  white  man, 


EVOLUTION    OF    ATTITUDES  799 

and  not  entirely  amenable  to  fetish  laws;  so  that  I  do  not 
suppose  my  shot  proved  anything  to  them  after  all."  6C 

It  is  the  same  in  Loango.  "I  had  been  presented,"  writes 
Pechuel-Loeschc,  "with  a  very  fine  collar,  made  of  hair 
from  the  tail  of  an  elephant . . .  and  adorned  with  teeth 
from  a  sea-fish  and  a  crocodile.  These  teeth  were  to  pre- 
serve me  from  any  danger  connected  with  water. ...  It  fre- 
quently happened  that  my  boat  was  upset  when  I  was 
crossing  the  bar,  and  one  day  I  had  great  difficulty  in 
reaching  the  shore.  I  was  told  quite  seriously  that  it  was  the 
teeth  alone  that  had  saved  me,  for  without  them  my  swim- 
ming powers  would  not  have  sufficed  to  help  me  clear  the 
heavy  breakers.  /  was  not  wearing  the  collar,  but  its  efficacy 
was  in  no  manner  of  doubt  from  that  fact."  67  The  fetish 
and  the  medicine-man  always  have  the  last  word. 

Primitive  man,  therefore,  lives  and  acts  in  an  environ- 
ment of  beings  and  objects,  all  of  which,  in  addition  to 
the  properties  that  we  recognize  them  to  possess,  are  en« 
dued  with  mystic  attributes.  He  perceives  their  objective 
reality  mingled  with  another  reality.  He  feels  himself  sur- 
rounded by  an  infinity  of  imperceptible  entities,  nearly 
always  invisible  to  sight,  and  always  redoubtable:  ofttimes 
the  souls  of  the  dead  are  about  him  and  always  he  is  en- 
compassed by  myriads  of  spirits  of  more  or  less  defined 
personality.  It  is  thus  at  least  that  the  matter  is  explained 
by  a  large  number  of  observers  and  anthropologists,  and 
they  make  use  of  animistic  terms  to  express  this.  Frazer 
has  collected  many  instances  which  tend  to  show  that  this 
phenomenon  obtains  everywhere  among  undeveloped  peo- 
ples.88 Is  it  necessary  to  quote  some  of  them  ?  "The  Oraon's 
imagination  tremblingly  wanders  in  a  world  of  ghosts. 
Every  rock,  road,  river,  and  grove  is  haunted." ...  Some- 
times, too,  there  are  "malignant  spirits." C9  Like  the  Santals, 
Mundas,  and  the  Oraons  of  the  Chota-Nagpur,  "the  Kadars 
believe  themselves  to  be  compassed  about  by  a  host  of 
invisible  powers,  some  of  whom  are  thought  to  be  the  spirits 
of  departed  ancestors,  while  others  seem  to  embody  nothing 


80O  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

more  definite  than  the  vague  sense  of  the  mysterious  and 
uncanny  with  which  hills,  streams,  and  lonely  forests  in- 
spire the  savage  imagination. ...  Their  names  are  legion, 
and  their  attributes  barely  known."80  In  Korea,  "spirits 
occupy  every  quarter  of  heaven  and  every  foot  of  earth. 
They  lie  in  wait  for  a  man  along  the  wayside,  in  the  trees, 
on  the  rocks,  in  the  mountains,  valleys,  and  streams.  They 
keep  him  under  a  constant  espionage  day  and  night.... 
They  are  all  about  him,  they  dance  in  front  of  him,  follow 
him,  fly  over  his  head  and  cry  out  against  him  from  the 
earth.  He  has  no  refuge  from  them  even  in  his  own 
house,  for  there  they  are  plastered  into  or  pinned  on  the 

walls  or  tied  to  the  beams Their  ubiquity  is  an  ugly 

travesty  of  the  omnipresence  of  God." C1  In  China,  accord- 
ing to  the  ancient  doctrine,  "the  universe  is  filled  up  in  all 
its  parts  with  legions  of  shen  and  \ivei. . . .  Every  being  and 
every  thing  that  exists  is  animated  either  by  a  shen,  or  by 
a  J(wcit  or  by  a  shen  and  a  \wei  together."02  With  the 
Fang  of  East  Africa  "spirits  are  everywhere;  in  rocks,  trees, 
forests,  and  streams;  in  fact,  for  the  Fang,  this  life  is  one 
continual  fight  against  spirits  corporal  and  spiritual."63 
"In  every  action  of  his  daily  life,"  writes  Miss  Kingsley, 
"the  African  negro  shows  you  how  he  lives  with  a  great, 
powerful  spirit  world  around  him.  You  will  see  him  before 
starting  out  to  hunt  or  fight  rubbing  medicine  into  his 
weapons  to  strengthen  the  spirits  within  them,  talking 
to  them  the  while;  telling  them  what  care  he  has  taken  of 
them,  reminding  them  of  the  gifts  he  has  given  them, 
though  these  gifts  were  hard  for  him  to  give,  and  begging 
them  in  the  hour  of  his  dire  necessity  not  to  fail  him. 
.You  will  see  him  bending  over  the  face  of  a  river  talking 
to  its  spirit  with  proper  incantations,  asking  it  when  it 
meets  a  man  who  is  an  enemy  of  his  to  upset  his  canoe, 
or  drown  him,  or  asking  it  to  carry  down  with  it  some 
turse  to  the  village  below  which  has  angered  him." 64 

Miss  Kingsley  lays  great  stress  upon  the  homogeneity 
of  the  African  native's  representations  of  everything.  "The 


EVOLUTION    OF    ATTITUDES  8oi 

African  mind  naturally  approaches  all  things  from  a  spiritual 
point  of  view ...  things  happen  because  of  the  action  of 
spirits  upon  spirit."65  When  the  doctor  applies  a  remedy 
"the  spirit  of  the  medicine  works  upon  the  spirit  of  the 
disease."  The  purely  physical  effect  is  beyond  the  power 
of  conception  unless  it  be  allied  with  the  mystic  influence. 
Or  rather,  we  may  say  that  there  is  no  really  physical 
influence,  there  are  only  mystic  ones.  Accordingly  it  h 
almost  impossible  to  get  these  primitives  to  differentiate, 
especially  when  it  is  a  case  of  an  accusation  of  murder 
through  the  practice  of  witchcraft,  for  instance.  Here  is  a 
typical  case.  "I  explain  to  my  native  questioner,"  says 
Nassau,  "that  if  what  the  accused  has  done  in  fetish  rite 
with  intent  to  kill,  had  any  efficiency  in  taking  away  life, 
I  allow  that  he  shall  be  put  to  death;  if  he  made  only 
fetishes,  even  if  they  were  intended  to  kill,  he  is  not  guilty 
of  this  death,  for  a  mere  fetish  cannot  kill.  But  if  he  used 
poison,  with  or  without  fetish,  he  is  guilty. 

"But  even  so,"  adds  Nassau,  "the  distinction  between 
a  fetish  and  a  poison  is  vague  in  the  thought  of  many 
natives.  What  I  call  a  'poison'  is  to  them  only  another 
material  form  of  a  fetish  power,  both  poison  and  fetish 
being  supposed  to  be  made  efficient  by  the  presence  of 
an  adjuvant  spirit."00  This  means  that  to  their  minds  the 
mere  fetish  kills  as  certainly  as  the  poison  does.  More 
certainly  even;  for  the  poison  kills  only  by  virtue  of  a 
mystic  power  of  which,  in  certain  circumstances,  it  may  be 
deprived.  The  idea  of  its  physical  properties,  which  is  so 
clear  to  the  European  mind,  does  not  exist  for  the  African. 

We  thus  have  good  authority  for  saying  that  this  men- 
tality differs  from  our  own  to  a  far  greater  extent  than  the 
language  used  by  those  who  are  partisans  of  animism 
would  lead  us  to  think.  When  they  are  describing  to  us 
a  world  peopled  by  ghosts  and  spirits  and  phantoms  fot 
primitives,  we  at  once  realize  that  beliefs  of  this  kind  have 
not  wholly  disappeared  even  in  civilized  countries.  With- 
out referring  to  spiritualism,  we  recall  the  ghost  stories 


802  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

ivhich  are  so  numerous  in  our  folklore,  and  we  are  tempted 
to  think  that  the  difference  is  one  of  degree  only.  Doubtless 
such  beliefs  may  be  regarded  in  our  communities  as  a  sur- 
vival which  testifies  to  an  older  mental  condition,  formerly 
much  more  general.  But  we  must  be  careful  not  to  see  in 
them  a  faithful,  though  faintly  outlined,  reflection  of  the 
mentality  of  primitives.  Even  the  most  uneducated  mem- 
bers of  our  societies  regard  stories  of  ghosts  and  spirits 
as  belonging  to  the  realm  of  the  supernatural:  between 
such  apparitions  and  magical  influences  and  the  data  fur- 
nished by  ordinary  perception  and  the  experience  of  the 
broad  light  of  day,  the  line  of  demarcation  is  clearly 
defined.  Such  a  line,  however,  does  not  exist  for  the  primi- 
tive. The  one  kind  of  perception  and  influence  is  quite 
as  natural  as  the  other,  or  rather,  we  may  say  that  to  him 
there  are  not  two  kinds.  The  superstitious  man,  and  fre- 
quently also  the  religious  man,  among  us,  believes  in  a 
twofold  order  of  reality,  the  one  visible,  palpable,  and  sub- 
ordinate to  the  essential  laws  of  motion;  the  other  invisible, 
intangible,  "spiritual,"  forming  a  mystic  sphere  which  en- 
compasses the  first.  But  the  primitive's  mentality  does  not 
recognize  two  distinct  worlds  in  contact  with  each  other, 
and  more  or  less  interpenetrating.  To  him  there  is  but 
one.  Every  reality,  like  every  influence,  is  mystic,  and  con- 
sequently every  perception  is  also  mystic. 

NOTES 

1  Vide  ch.  viii,  pp.  352-353,  How  Natives  Thinly,  by  author. 

2  C.  Lumholtz,  Unknown  Mexico,  ii,  pp.  7-8. 

8  J.  Mooncy,  "The  Sacred  Formulas  of  the  Cherokee,*'  E.  B.  Rept.,  vii, 

P-  375- 

4  K.  Th.  Preuss,  "Der  Ursprung  der  Religion  und  Kunst,"  Globus,  Ixxxvi, 
p,  20;  Ixxxvii,  p.  19. 

5  W.  W.  Skcat,  Malay  Magic,  p.  427. 

6  Dr.  Pechuel-Loeschc,  Die  Loango-Expedition,  iii,  2,  pp.  194  et  seq. 
'P.  H.  Gushing,  "Zum  Creation  Myths,"  E.  B.  Rept.,  xiii,  pp.  361-363. 
8Bernau,  Missionary  Labours  in  British  Guiana,  p.  46  (1847). 

9  The  Religious  System  of  China,  i,  p.  1041. 

*°  Solomon,  "Diaries  Kept  in  Cap  Nicobar,"  /.  A.  /.,  xxxii,  p.  230. 

11  Dr.  Pechuel-Loesche,  Die  Loango-Expeditton,  iii,  2,  pp.  209-212. 

12  Jenks,  The  Bontoc  leorot,  p.  196  (Manila,  1905). 


EVOLUTION    OF    ATTITUDES  So;, 

18  Eyre,  Journals  of  Expeditions  of  Discovery  into  Central  Australia,  ii, 
p.  247. 

14  ].  ].  M.  de  Groot,  The  Religious  System  of  China,  ii,  pp.  340-355. 
15Catlin,  The  North  American  Indians,  i,  pp.    122-123    (Edinburgh, 

1903). 
i«  Ibid. 

17  Ed.  Thwaites,  Relations  des  Jesuits,  v,  p.  256  (1633). 

18  Hethcrwick,  "Some  Animistic  Beliefs  of  the  Yaos,"  /.  A.  /.,  xxxii,  pp. 
89-90. 

19  Dr.    Pechuel-Loesche,    Die   Loango-Expedition,    iii,    2,    pp.    378-379 
(1907). 

20  A.  B.  Ellis,  The  Yornba-Spcaking  Peoples,  p.  80. 

21  K.  von  den  Stcinen,  Unter  den  Naturvdlkjern  Zentral-Brasilicns,  p. 
386. 

22  Ptimttit'f  Culture,  ii,  pp.  169  et  seq. 

23  L.  Hennepm,  Nouveau  Voyage  de  I'Amerique  Septentrional e,  pp.  366' 

367- 

24  ].  Mooney,  "The  Sacred  Formulas  of  the  Cherokees,"  E.  B.  Rept.,  vii, 

P.  343- 

25  A.  B.  Ellis,  The  Ewe-Speaking  Peoples,  pp.  98-99. 

26  Rivers,  The  Todas,  p.  627. 

27  Bodding,  "On  Taboo  Customs  Amongst  the  Santals,"  Journal  of  th\ 
Asiatic  Society  of  Bengal,  iii,  p.  20  (1898). 

28  ].  Mooney,  The  Sacred  Formulas  of  the  Cherokees,  p.  352. 

29  Spencer  and  Gillcn,  The  Northern  Tribes  of  Central  Australia,  p.  227. 

30  Chamberlain,  Things  Japanese,  p.  344  (1902). 

31  Dorscy,  "Siouan  Cults,"  E.  B.  Rept.,  xi,  p.  368. 

32  Hill  Tout,  "Ethnology  of  the  Statlum  H  of  British  Columbia,"  /.  A.  /., 
xxxv,  p.  152. 

33  F.  Boas,  "The  Northwestern  Tribes  of  Canada,"  Reports  of  the  Brit- 
ish Association,  p.  675  (1898). 

34  The  Religious  System  of  China,  i,  p.  212. 

35  Mary  Kingsley,  West  African  Studies,  p.  176. 

36  ].  ].  M.  de  Groot,  The  Religious  System  of  China,  i,  pp.  94,  210. 
37 /£/</.,  ii,  p.  83. 

38  Ibid.,  ii,  p.  83. 

39  Howitt,  "On  Australian  Medicine-Men,"  /.  A.  I.,  xvi,  i,  pp.  29-30. 

40  Dorsey,  "Siouan  Cults,"  E.  B.  Rept.,  xi,  pp.  436-437. 

41  Howitt,  "On  Some  Australian  Medicine-Men,"  /.  A.  I.,  xvi.  i,  p.  42, 

42  Ibid.,  p.  50. 

43  The  Native  Tribes  of  Central  Australia,  pp.  561-562. 

44  Ibid.,  p.  532. 

45  W.  E.  Roth,  Ethnological  Studies  Among  the  N.  W.  Central  Queens  > 
land  Aborigines,  No.  264. 

46  V.  Mikhailovski,  Shamanism  in  Siberia  and  European  Russia,  analyzed 
in  /.  A.  /.,  xxiv,  p.  99;  cf.  p.  133. 

47  A.  Gatschct,  The  Klamath  Language,  p.  xcviii. 

48  Ibid.,  p.  xcix. 

49  C.  Lumholtz,  Unknown  Mexico,  i,  p.  340. 
™lbid.,  p.  372. 

61  Idem.,  Symbolism  of  the  Huichol  Indians,  p.  68. 


804  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

02  Missionary  Travels,  pp.  24-25  (1857). 

58  Solomon,  "Diaries  Kept  in  Cap  Nicobar,"  /.  A.  /.,  xxxii,  p.  213. 

54  Bowditch,  Mission  to  Ashanti,  p.  439. 

55  Explorations  and  Adventures  in  Equatorial  Africa,  p.  338. 
**IMd.,  p.  179. 

57  Die  Loan  go-Expedition,  iii,  2,  p.  352. 

08  The  Golden  Bough  (2nd  edit.),  iii,  pp.  41  ct  seq. 

59Riiley,  Tribes  and  Castes  of  Bengal,  ii,  pp.  143-145. 

60  Ibid.,  i,  p.  369. 

61  G.  H.  Jones,  "The  Spirit  Worship  in  Korea,"  Transactions  of  the  Korea 
Branch  of  the  Royal  Asiatic  Society,  ii,  i,  p.  58. 

*2  J.  J.  M.  De  Groot,  The  Religious  System  of  China,  iv,  p.  51. 

/l3  Bennett,  "Ethnographical  Notes  on  the  Fang,"  /.  A.  /.,  xxix,  p.  87. 

84  West  African  Studies,  p.  no. 

**lbid.,  p.  330. 

•6  Fetichism  in  West  Africa,  p.  263. 


THE  SCIENCE  OF  CUSTOM* 

THE  BEARING  OF  ANTHROPOLOGY  ON  CONTEMPORARY  THOUGHT 
By  RUTH  BENEDICT 

ANTHROPOLOGY  is  the  study  of  primitive  peoples — a  state- 
ment which  helps  us  to  understand  its  bearing  on  contem- 
porary thought  as  Uttle  as  if,  in  the  time  of  Copernicus,  we 
had  defined  astronomy  as  the  study  of  the  stars,  or  biology, 
in  the  time  of  Darwin,  as  the  science  of  bugs.  It  was  not 
facts  about  stars  that  made  astronomy  suddenly  of  first- 
class  importance,  but  that — quite  casually,  as  it  were — the 
Copernican  scheme  placed  the  earth,  this  planetary  scene 
of  human  life,  in  a  perspective  of  such  infinitesimal  insig- 
nificance. In  much  the  same  way  the  significance  of  amhro- 
pology  to  modern  thought  does  not  lie  in  any  secrets  that 
the  primitive  has  saved  for  us  from  a  simpler  world,  with 
which  to  solve  the  perplexities  of  this  existence.  Anthro- 
pology is  not  a  search  for  the  philosopher's  stone  in  3 
vanished  and  golden  age.  What  anthropologists  find  in  the 
study  of  primitive  people  is  a  natural  and  well-nigh  inex- 
haustible laboratory  of  custom,  a  great  workshop  in  which 
to  explore  the  major  role  it  has  played  in  the  life-history  of 
the  world. 

Now  custom  has  not  been  commonly  regarded  as  a  sub- 
ject of  any  great  moment.  It  is  not  like  the  inner  workings 
of  our  own  brains,  which  we  feel  to  be  uniquely  worthy 
of  investigation.  Custom,  we  have  a  way  of  thinking,  is 
behavior  at  its  most  commonplace.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  it 
is  the  other  way  around.  Traditional  custom,  taken  the 
world  over,  is  a  mass  of  detailed  behavior  more  astonishing 
than  any  one  person  can  ever  evolve  fn  personal  acts  no 

*  This  article  was  published  in  The  Century  Magazine,  April,  1929. 


So6  THE  MAKING  OF  MAN 

matter  how  aberrant.  Yet  that  is  a  rather  trivial  aspect  of 
die  matter.  The  fact  of  first-rate  importance  is  the  predomi- 
nant role  that  custom  plays  in  experience  and  in  belief.  No 
man  ever  looks  at  the  world  with  pristine  eyes.  He  sees  it 
edited  by  a  definite  set  of  customs  and  institutions  and  ways 
of  thinking.  Even  in  his  philosophical  probings  he  cannot 
go  behind  these  stereotypes;  his  very  concepts  of  the  true 
and  the  false  will  still  have  reference  to  the  structure  of  his 
particular  traditional  customs.  John  Dewey  has  said  in  all 
seriousness  that  the  part  played  by  custom  in  shaping  the 
behavior  of  the  individual  as  over  against  any  way  in  which 
he  can  affect  traditional  custom,  is  as  the  proportion  of  the 
total  vocabulary  of  his  mother  tongue  over  against  those 
words  of  his  own  baby  talk  that  are  taken  up  into  the 
vernacular  of  his  family.  There  is  no  social  problem  it  is 
more  incumbent  upon  us  to  understand  than  that  of  the 
rdle  of  custom  in  our  total  life.  Until  we  arc  intelligent  as 
to  the  laws  and  the  varieties  of  customs,  the  main  complicat- 
ing facts  of  human  life  will  remain  to  us  an  unintelligible 
book. 

The  first  concern  of  the  anthropologist  is  always  for  an 
understanding  of  this  affair  of  custom:  how  each  society 
comes  to  be  possessed  of  whole  systems  of  it,  how  it  is  stabi- 
lized, cross-fertilized,  how  it  is  inculcated  into  all  the  mem- 
bers of  the  group  among  whom  it  flourishes.  In  other  words, 
the  business  of  the  anthropologist  is  with  the  great  idea- 
tional  systems  of  language,  social  organization  and  religion 
of  which  every  people  on  earth  finds  itself  possessed,  and 
which  are  passed  on  to  every  child  as  it  is  born  into  the 
group,  but  of  which  no  child  born  in  any  other  territory 
could  ever  achieve  the  thousandth  part. 

This  matter  of  culture,  to  give  it  its  anthropological  term 
— that  complex  whole  which  includes  all  the  habits  acquired 
by  man  as  a  member  of  society — has  been  late  in  claiming 
scientific  attention.  There  are  excellent  reasons  for  this. 
Any  scientific  study  requires  first  of  all  that  there  be  no 
preferential  weighting  of  one  or  another  of  the  items  in 


EVOLUTION    OF    ATTITUDES  807 

the  series  it  selects  for  its  consideration.  Anthropology  was 
therefore  by  definition  impossible  as  long  as  those  old  distinc- 
tions between  ourselves  and  the  barbarian,  ourselves  and 
the  pagan,  held  sway  over  people's  minds.  It  was  necessary 
first  to  arrive  at  that  degree  of  sophistication  where  one  no 
longer  set  his  belief  over  against  his  neighbor's  superstition, 
and  it  is  worth  considering  that  it  is  barely  one  hundred 
years  ago  that  any  one  took  his  superstitious  neighbors 
seriously  enough  to  include  them  in  any  general  purview 
of  serious  belief. 

In  the  second  place,  custom  did  not  challenge  the  attention 
of  social  theorists,  because  it  was  the  very  stuff  of  their  own 
thinking.  We  do  not  see  the  lens  through  which  we  look, 
Precisely  in  proportion  as  it  was  fundamental,  it  was  auto- 
matic, and  had  its  existence  outside  the  field  of  conscious 
attention.  The  custom  of  greeting  a  guest  by  an  array  of 
weeping  women  who  sit  in  his  lap  and  embrace  him,  may 
not  need  more  or  less  psychological  elucidation  than  the 
handshake,  but  it  communicates  the  necessary  shock,  and 
the  subject  of  the  handshake  will  remain  unexplored  long- 
after  we  have  mustered  our  efforts  toward  the  understand- 
ing of  the  tears-greeting.  We  have  only  to  admit  alien  cus- 
toms to  the  same  rank  in  regulating  human  nature  that 
ours  have  for  us,  and  we  are  perpetually  galvanized  into 
attention. 

It  is  not  fair  to  lay  our  blindness  to  custom  wholly  to  the 
fact  that  it  is  closer  to  us  than  breathing.  Primitive  people 
are  sometimes  far  more  conscious  of  the  role  of  cultural 
traits  than  we  are,  and  for  good  reason.  They  have  had 
intimate  experience  of  different  cultures,  and  we  have  not. 
White  civilization  has  standardized  itself  over  most  of  the 
globe.  We  have  never  seen  an  outsider  unless  he  is  already 
Europeanized.  The  uniformity  of  custom,  of  outlook,  seems 
convincing  enough,  and  conceals  from  us  the  fact  that  it 
is  after  all  an  historical  accident.  All  our  observation  rein- 
forces the  testimony  of  our  easy  assent  to  the  familiar,  and 
we  accept  without  any  ado  the  equivalence  of  human. 


to8  THEMAKINGOFMAN 

nature  and  of  our  own  cultural  standards.  But  many  primi- 
tives have  a  different  experience.  They  have  seen  their 
religion  go  down  before  the  white  man's,  their  economic 
system,  their  marriage  prohibitions.  They  have  laid  down 
the  one  and  taken  up  the  other,  and  are  quite  clear  and 
sophisticated  about  variant  arrangements  of  human  life. 
If  they  talk  about  human  nature,  they  do  it  in  plurals,  not 
in  the  absolute  singular,  and  they  will  derive  dominant 
characteristics  of  the  white  man  from  his  commercial  in- 
stitutions, or  from  his  conventions  of  warfare,  very  much 
after  the  fashion  of  the  anthropologist.  If  civilized  Euro- 
peans have  been  especially  dense  to  the  scientific  implica- 
tions of  custom,  it  has  been  not  only  because  their  own 
customs  were  too  familiar  to  be  discernible,  and  because 
they  resisted  the  implication  that  their  culture  belonged 
to  a  series  that  included  the  customs  of  lesser  people,  but 
also  because  the  standardization  of  their  own  culture  over 
the  globe  has  given  an  illusion  of  a  world-wide  uniform 
human  behavior. 

What  is  it  that  anthropologists  have  to  say  about  this 
matter  of  custom  ?  In  the  first  place,  it  is  man's  distinguish- 
ing mark  in  the  animal  kingdom.  Man  is  the  culture-mak- 
ing animal.  It  is  not  that  insects,  for  instance,  do  not  have 
complex  cultural  traits  like  the  domestication  of  plants  and 
animals,  political  organization,  division  of  labor.  But  the 
mechanism  of  transmission  makes  them  contrast  sharply 
with  man's  particular  contribution  of  traditionally  learned 
behavior.  Insect  society  takes  no  chances;  the  pattern  of 
the  entire  social  structure  is  carried  in  the  cell  structure  of 
each  individual  ant,  so  that  one  isolated  individual  can 
automatically  reproduce  the  entire  social  order  of  its  own 
colony  just  as  it  reproduces  the  shape  of  antennae  or  of 
abdomen.  For  better  or  worse,  man's  solution  has  been  at 
the  opposite  pole.  Not  one  item  of  his  tribal  social  organiza- 
tion, of  language,  of  his  local  religion,  is  carried  in  his  geri|i- 
cell.  His  whole  centuries-evolved  civilization  is  at  the  mercy 
of  any  accident  of  time  and  space.  If  he  is  taken  at  birth  to 


EVOLUTION    OF    ATTITUDES  809 

anoiher  continent,  it  will  be  the  entire  set  of  cultural  traits 
of  the  adoptive  society  that  he  will  learn,  and  the  set  that 
was  his  by  heredity  will  play  no  part.  More  than  this,  whole 
peoples  in  one  generation  have  shaken  off  their  patterns, 
retaining  hardly  a  residual  vestige,  and  have  put  on  the 
customs  of  an  alien  group. 

What  is  lost  in  nature's  guarantee  of  safety,  is  made  up 
in  the  advantage  of  greater  plasticity.  The  human  animal 
does  not,  like  the  bear,  have  to  wait  to  grow  himself  a 
polar  coat  before  he  can  adapt  himself  to  the  arctic;  he 
learns  to  sew  himself  a  coat  and  put  up  a  snow  house.  It 
is  a  direct  corollary  of  this  difference  in  the  mechanism  of 
human  culture  that,  as  Professor  W.  M.  Wheeler  tells  us, 
ant  societies  have  been  stable  for  sixty-five  million  years, 
and  human  societies  are  never  to-morrow  what  they  are 
to-day. 

Anthropology  has  no  encouragement  to  offer  to  those  who 
would  trust  our  spiritual  achievements  to  the  automatic 
perpetuation  of  any  selected  hereditary  germ-plasms.  Cul- 
ture, it  insists,  is  not  carried  in  that  fashion  for  the  human 
race.  We  cannot  trust  any  program  of  racial  purity.  It  is  a 
significant  fact  that  no  anthropologist  has  ever  taught,  along 
with  so  many  popular  theorists,  that  high  civilization  is 
bound  up  with  the  biological  homogeneity  of  its  carriers. 
Race  is  a  classification  based  on  bodily  form,  and  the  par- 
ticular cultural  behavior  of  any  group  is  strikingly  inde- 
pendent of  its  racial  affiliations.  We  must  accept  all  the 
implications  of  our  human  inheritance,  one  of  the  most 
important  of  which  is  the  small  scope  of  biologically  trans- 
mitted behavior,  and  the  enormous  role  of  the  cultural 
process  of  the  transmission  of  tradition. 

There  is  another  analogy  with  the  animal  world  which 
has  to  be  laid  aside  in  the  study  of  culture:  no  less  than  the 
idea  of  evolution.  The  modern  anthropologist  at  this  point 
is  only  throwing  in  his  lot  with  the  psychologist  and  the 
historian,  emphasizing  the  fact  that  the  order  of  events  in 
which  they  all  deal  in  common  is  best  studied  without  the 


8lO  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

complications  of  any  attempted  evolutionary  arrangement. 
The  psychologist  is  not  able  to  demonstrate  any  evolutionary 
series  in  the  sensory  or  emotional  reactions  of  the  individuals 
he  studies,  and  the  historian  is  not  helped  in  the  reconstruc- 
tion of  Plantagenet  England  by  any  concept  of  the  evolution 
of  government;  just  as  superfluous  for  him  also,  the  an- 
thropologist insists,  is  any  scheme  of  cultures  arranged 
according  to  an  ascending  scale  of  evolution. 

Since  the  science  of  anthropology  took  shape  in  the  years 
when  the  "Origin  of  Species"  was  still  new,  it  was  inevitable 
that  there  should  have  been  this  attempt  to  arrange  human 
societies  from  this  point  of  view.  It  was  simplicity  itself. 
At  the  summit  of  the  ascent  was  placed  our  own  culture, 
to  give  meaning  and  plan  to  all  that  had  preceded;  to  the 
lowest  rungs  was  relegated  by  hypothesis  all  that  was  most 
different  from  this  consummation;  and  the  intermediate 
steps  were  arranged  as  these  two  fixed  points  suggested.  It 
is  important  to  insist  that  there  was  never  any  argument 
from  actual  chronology;  even  in  cases  where  it  could  have 
been  ascertained,  it  was  not  considered  of  such  importance 
that  it  could  compete  with  the  a  priori  hypothesis.  In  this 
way  the  development  of  art,  religion  and  marriage  institu- 
tions was  classically  charted.  It  is  a  monument  to  the  force 
of  a  theory  that  asked  no  proof  other  than  its  own  con- 
viction. 

Now  if  there  is  no  positive  correlation  between  culture 
and  an  evolutionary  scheme,  is  there  any  order  and  arrange- 
ment of  any  kind  in  the  diversity  of  human  customs?  To 
answer  this  question  it  is  necessary  to  go  back  to  funda- 
mentals, to  man's  equipment  of  basic  responses  to  environ- 
ment. These  responses,  as  anthropologists  see  them,  are 
mere  rough  sketches,  a  list  of  bare  facts;  but  they  are  hints 
that  may  be  illimitably  fertile.  They  are  focal  centers  which 
any  peoples  may  ignore,  or  which  they  may  make  the 
starting  point  of  their  most  elaborated  concepts.  Let  us 
take,  for  instance,  the  example  of  adolescence.  Adolescence 
is  a  necessary  biological  fact  for  man  and  for  his  animal 


EVOLUTION    OF    ATTITUDES  8ll 

forebears,  but  man  has  used  it  as  a  spring-board.  It  may 
be  made  the  occasion  for  the  major  part  of  the  ritual  the 
group  practices;  it  may  be  ignored  as  completely  as  Mar- 
garet Mead  has  recently  shown  that  it  is  in  Samoa.  It  may 
be  seen,  as  among  the  African  Masai,  as  one  item  of  an 
elaborate  crisis  ceremonialism  that  institutionalizes  not  only 
adolescence  but  provides,  for  instance,  a  ceremony  for  put- 
ting the  father  on  the  shelf  after  his  son  has  attained  young 
manhood.  It  may  be,  on  the  other  hand,  a  magic  occasion 
that  will,  in  after  life,  give  back  as  from  a  mirror  every 
technique  that  is  practiced  at  this  time.  So  a  girl  will  pick 
each  needle  carefully  from  a  pine-tree  that  she  may  be 
industrious,  or  a  boy  will  race  a  stone  down  the  mountain 
that  he  may  be  swift  of  foot.  The  rites  may  be  limited  to 
the  young  girls,  or,  it  may  be,  to  the  boys;  the  period  may 
be  marked  with  horror  and  with  torture,  it  may  be  a 
consecration  to  the  gods.  It  is  obvious  that  the  physical  fact 
of  adolescence  is  only  the  touch  to  the  ball  of  custom,  which 
then  follows  grooves  of  thought  not  implied  in  the  original 
impetus. 

What  these  grooves  are  we  can  sometimes  account  for 
out  of  the  cultural  history  of  a  people;  more  often  we  can 
only  record  the  facts.  We  know  that  traits  that  have  once 
found  themselves  in  company  are  likely  to  maintain  that 
association  quite  apart  from  any  intrinsic  fitness  in  their 
nature.  So  bone  head-scratchers  and  the  pursuit  of  a  super- 
natural vision  may  go  hand  in  hand  over  a  continent,  and 
the  absence  of  foot-gear  may  coincide  with  carved  door- 
posts. 

What  we  do  know  is  that  there  is  no  one  of  the  bare 
reactions  of  the  human  animal  that  may  not  be  selected 
by  some  people  for  a  position  in  the  very  forefront  of  its 
attention  and  be  elaborated  past  belief.  It  may  be  that  the 
economic  facts  of  life,  as  for  instance  the  buffalo  herds  o' 
the  Todas  of  India,  may  be  singled  out;  and  the  whole  life 
of  the  people  may  turn  on  the  ritual,  of  perpetuating  and 
renewing  the  sacred  pep,  the  soured  milk  saved  by  the 


8t2  THEMAKINGOFMAN 

Todas  from  day  to  day  as  the  continuum  of  their  culture, 
and  used  to  hasten  the  next  day's  souring.  The  dairymen  are 
the  priests,  anointed  and  sacrosanct,  the  holy  of  holies  is 
the  sacred  cow  bell.  Most  of  the  taboos  of  the  people  have 
to  do  with  the  infinite  sacredness  of  the  milk. 

Or  a  culture  may,  instead,  elaborate  an  item  of  the  social 
organization.  All  people  over  the  earth  recognize  some  for- 
bidden degrees  within  which  marriage  may  not  take  place. 
These  are  alike  only  in  the  common  idea  of  incest;  the 
degrees  themselves  differ  entirely.  In  a  large  part  of  tfre 
world  you  may  marry  only  one  variety  of  own  cousin,  say 
your  mother's  brother's  daughter,  and  it  is  incest  to  marry 
the  other  variety,  say  your  father's  sister's  daughter.  But 
however  unreasonable  the  distinctions  may  seem  from  our 
point  of  view,  some  concept  of  forbidden  degrees  all  men 
have,  and  animals,  it  seems,  have  not.  Now  this  idea  has 
been  taken  up  by  the  aborigines  of  Australia  and  made  the 
basis  of  a  social  system  that  knows  no  restraint  in  the 
elaboration  of  its  favorite  pattern.  Not  satisfied  with  stipulat- 
ing one  cousin  group  within  which,  and  no  other,  one  must 
find  a  mate,  certain  of  these  tribes  have  heaped  the  incest 
taboos  on  lineages,  on  local  groups,  on  all  who  participate 
with  them  in  certain  ceremonies,  until  even  in  the  specified 
cousin  group  there  is  no  one  who  is  not  touched  by  some 
one  of  the  taboos.  Quite  in  keeping  with  the  violence  of 
their  obsession  with  this  detail  of  social  organization,  they 
are  accustomed  to  visit  death  upon  any  one  who  transgresses 
the  fantastic  rules.  Do  they  pull  themselves  together  before 
they  have  reached  the  point  of  tribal  suicide  and  reject  their 
overgrown  anti-social  rulings?  No,  they  get  by  with  a 
subterfuge.  Young  men  and  women  may  escape  together 
to  an  island  which  is  regarded  as  asylum.  If  they  succeed 
in  remaining  in  seclusion  until  the  birth  of  a  child,  they 
may  return  with  no  more  than  a  formalized  drubbing. 
So  the  tribe  is  enabled  to  maintain  its  ethics  without 
acknowledged  revision,  and  still  avoid  extinction. 

But  it  need  not  be  incest  that  has  run  away  with  itself 


EVOLUTION    OF    ATTITUDES  813 

in  the  culture  of  a  group;  it  may  be  some  trick  of  ritualism, 
or  love  of  display,  or  passion  of  acquisitiveness.  It  may  be 
fish-hooks.  In  a  certain  island  of  Oceania  fish-hooks  are 
currency,  and  to  have  large  fish-hooks  came  gradually  to 
be  the  outward  sign  of  the  possession  of  great  wealth.  Fish- 
hooks therefore  are  made  very  nearly  as  large  as  a  man. 
They  will  no  longer  catch  fish,  of  course.  In  proportion  as 
they  have  lost  their  usefulness  they  are  supremely  coveted. 

After  a  long  experience  of  such  cultural  facts  anthropolo- 
gists have  made  up  their  minds  on  two  points.  In  the  first 
place,  it  is  usually  beside  the  point  to  argue,  from  its  im- 
portant place  in  behavior,  the  social  usefulness  of  a  custom, 
Man  can  get  by  with  a  mammoth  load  of  useless  lumber, 
and  he  has  a  passion  for  extremes.  Once  his  attention  is 
engaged  upon  one  trait  of  behavior,  he  will  juggle  his  cus< 
toms  till  they  perforce  accommodate  themselves  to  the  out- 
ward manifestations  of  his  obsession.  After  all,  man  has  a 
fairly  wide  margin  of  safety,  and  he  will  not  be  forced  tr» 
the  wall  even  with  a  pitiful  handicap.  Our  own  civilization 
carries  its  burden  of  warfare,  of  the  dissatisfaction  and 
frustration  of  wage-earners,  of  the  overdevelopment  of 
acquisitiveness.  It  will  continue  to  bear  them.  The  point  is 
that  it  is  more  in  line  with  the  evidence  to  regard  them 
as  our  equivalents  of  the  fish-hooks  or  of  the  Australian  mar- 
riage rules,  and  to  give  over  the  effort  to  prove  their  natural 
social  utility. 

For  every  people  will  always  justify  their  own  folkways. 
Warfare,  as  long  as  we  have  it,  will  be  for  our  moralists  the 
essential  school  in  which  justice  and  valor  are  to  be  learned: 
the  desire  for  possession  similarly  will  be  the  one  motive 
power  to  which  it  is  safe  to  trust  the  progress  of  the  world. 
In  the  same  way,  China  relied  upon  reverence  for  one's 
ancestors.  There  are  too  many  of  these  folkways.  They  can- 
not all  be  the  sine  qua  non  of  existence,  and  we  shall  dc 
better  to  concentrate  our  attention  upon  an  objective  ap- 
preciation of  different  schemes,  and  to  give  our  enthusiasm! 


814  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

to  those  special  values  we  can  always  discern  in  the  most 
diverse  civilizations. 

The  second  point  on  which  anthropologists  have  made  up 
their  minds  in  this  connection — and  this  holds  true  for  all 
customs  whether  or  not  they  have  been  carried  to  extremes- 
is  that  in  any  study  of  behavior  it  is  these  cultural  pattern- 
ings  that  turn  out  to  be  compulsive,  not  any  original  in- 
stincts with  which  we  are  born  equipped.  Even  the  basic 
emotions  of  fear  and  love  and  rage  by  the  time  they  have 
been  shaped  over  the  different  cultural  lasts  are  well-nigh 
unrecognizable.  Is  there  a  jealousy  of  the  mate  innate  in 
our  sexual  organization?  Perhaps,  but  it  will  not  dictate 
behavior  except  according  to  a  cultural  permit.  Over  a  large 
part  of  the  world,  the  woman  is  aggrieved  if  her  husband 
does  not  take  other  wives — it  may  be  to  aid  her  in  the  duties 
of  the  household,  or  to  relieve  her  of  child-bearing,  or  to 
make  plain  her  husband's  social  importance.  And  in  other 
parts  of  the  world,  the  male's  virtues  of  generosity  and  of 
dignity  are  chiefly  summed  up  in  his  practice  of  sharing  his 
wife,  and  his  calm  acceptance  of  her  desertion.  Is  there  a 
maternal  instinct  ?  It  will  always  be  operative  according  to 
ihe  conventions  of  the  group.  If  there  is  great  emphasis  upon 
rank,  women  may  voluntarily  kill  their  children  to  raise 
their  own  status,  as  among  the  Natchez,  or  the  Polynesian 
Tonga.  If  there  is  a  pattern  of  seemingly  meaningless  adop- 
rion,  most  families  will  place  their  infants  in  other  house- 
holds, sometimes  assigning  them  before  birth.  And  how 
often  have  different  apologists  tried  to  give  reasons  for 
infanticide,  when  all  the  reasons  they  list  are  just  as  opera- 
tive outside  as  within  the  region  where  this  cultural  com- 
pulsion rests  upon  the  women. 

Man  evolves  always  elaborate  traditional  ways  of  doing 
things,  great  superstructures  of  the  most  varying  design, 
and  without  very  striking  correlations  with  the  underpin- 
nings on  which  they  must  each  and  aH  eventually  rest.  It 
is  only  in  a  fundamental  and  non-spectacular  sense  that 
these  superstructures  are  conditioned  by  their  foundation 


EVOLUTION    OF    ATTITUDES  815 

in  man's  original  endowment.  And  it  is  the  superstructure 
in  which  man  lives,  not  the  foundation.  The  compulsion  of 
folkways  in  a  well-knit  culture  is  just  as  strong  as  the 
compulsion  of  a  style  in  architecture,  Gothic,  or  Renaissance, 
or  Egyptian.  It  fashions  as  it  will  the  instincts  of  the  people 
who  live  within  it,  remaking  them  in  conformity  with  its 
own  requirements.  So  it  is  that  the  cultural  patterns  are 
themselves  creative;  they  take  the  raw  material  of  experience 
and  mold  it  into  fifty  different  shapes  among  fifty  different 
peoples.  The  traditional  patterns  of  behavior  set  the  mold 
and  human  nature  flows  into  it. 

It  follows  that  man's  established  folkways  are  also  hi* 
morals.  Judgments  of  right  and  wrong  and  of  the  glory 
of  God  grow  up  within  the  field  of  group  behavior  and 
attach  themselves  to  those  traits  that  have  become  automatic 
in  the  group.  Interference  with  automatic  behavior  is  always 
unpleasant,  and  it  is  rationalized  as  evil.  No  people  have 
any  truly  empirical  ethics;  they  uphold  what  they  find  them- 
selves practicing.  Even  our  own  literature  of  ethics  is  fai 
from  being  a  detached  survey  of  different  possible  solutions; 
it  is  a  system  of  apologetics  for  the  well-known  scheme  of 
our  own  culture.  It  is  not  that  the  anthropologist  would 
subtract  a  jot  or  tittle  from  this  preference  for  one's  own 
customs;  there  are  values  in  any  way  of  living  that  can  be 
plumbed  only  by  those  who  have  been  born  and  bred  in 
them,  and  in  an  ideal  world  every  man  would  love  best  his 
own  culture.  What  the  anthropologist  would  have  us  add 
to  our  understanding  is  that  all  cultures  have  alike  grown 
up  blindly,  the  useful  and  cumbersome  together,  and  not 
one  of  them  is  so  good  that  it  needs  no  revision,  and  not 
one  is  so  bad  that  it  cannot  serve,  just  as  ours  can,  the  ideal 
ends  of  society  and  of  the  individual. 

And  how  is  it  with  regard  to  religion?  All  peoples  have 
been  religious;  it  is  only  what  constituted  religion  that  has 
varied.  There  is  no  item  of  experience,  from  the  orientation 
of  a  house,  to  sleight  of  hand  or  foretelling  the  future,  that 
has  not  been  somewhere,  it  seems,  the  distinguishing  matter 


8l6  THEMAKINGOFMAN 

of  religion.  Surely  it  is  not  this  heterogeneous  content  of 
religion  that  is  its  essence.  The  role  of  religion  is  its  slow  and 
halting  exploration  of  the  spiritual  life.  Often  it  has  wedged 
itself  into  blind  alleys  and  wasted  generations  of  experi- 
ment. It  made  a  mistake  and  included  within  its  scope  not 
only  its  proper  field,  but  also  all  that  area  of  existence  that  is 
better  handled  in  secular  fashion.  Its  special  field  of  the 
spiritual  life  is  still  in  the  process  of  delimitation.  In  that 
field  it  shares  with  art  and  with  abstract  thought  and  with 
all  enthusiastic  dedications  of  the  self,  the  spiritual  rewards 
of  life.  What  the  future  holds  we  do  not  know,  but  it  is 
not  too  much  to  hope  that  it  will  include  a  reinstating  and 
reshaping  of  the  spiritual  values  of  existence  that  will  balance 
the  present  immense  unfolding  of  the  material  values. 

What  is  the  upshot  of  this  analysis  of  custom  for  our 
contemporary  thinking?  Is  it  subversive?  Certainly  not, 
except  in  the  sense  in  which  Copernicus's  demonstration  of 
the  stellar  series  to  which  this  earth  belonged,  was  subversive. 
The  culture  we  are  born  into,  according  to  anthropology, 
is  also — as  the  earth  is  in  the  solar  scheme — one  of  a  series 
of  similar  phenomena  all  driven  by  the  same  compulsions. 
What  we  give  up,  in  accepting  this  view,  is  a  dogged  at- 
tachment to  absolutes;  what  we  gain  is  a  sense  of  the 
intriguing  variety  of  possible  forms  of  behavior,  and  of  the 
social  function  that  is  served  by  these  communal  patternings. 
We  become  culture-conscious. 

We  perceive  with  new  force  the  ties  that  bind  us  to  those 
who  share  our  culture.  Ways  of  thinking,  ways  of  acting, 
goals  of  effort,  that  we  tend  so  easily  to  accept  as  the  order 
of  the  universe,  become  rather  the  precious  and  special 
symbols  we  share  together.  Institutions  that  were  massive 
Juggernauts  demanding  their  toll  become  instead  a  world 
of  the  imagination  to  which  all  those  of  common  culture  have 
common  access.  For  the  social  function  of  custom  is  that  it 
makes  our  acts  intelligible  to  our  neighbors.  It  binds  us 
together  with  a  common  symbolism,  a  common  religion,  a 
common  set  of  values  to  pursue.  In  the  past  these  groups 


EVOLUTION    OF    ATTITUDES  817 

have  been  geographical,  and  there  has  been  little  individual 
difference  of  choice  among  the  members  of  a  group.  In 
the  future  there  will  be  less  geographical  differentiation, 
more  differentiation  perhaps  of  voluntary  groups.  But 
though  it  will  change  the  picture  of  civilization,  it  will  not 
change  the  necessity  in  every  sort  of  complicated  human 
behavior  of  the  cultural  symbol,  the  framework  within 
which  alone  our  acts  have  meaning.  The  most  individualistic 
rebel  of  us  all  would  play  a  foolish  role  stripped  of  the 
conventions  of  his  culture.  Why  should  he  make  wholesale 
attack  upon  its  institutions?  They  are  the  epic  of  his  own 
people,  written  not  in  rime  but  in  stone  and  currency  and 
merchant  marines  and  city  colleges.  They  are  the  massive 
creation  of  the  imaginations  of  generations,  given  a  local 
habitation  and  a  name. 

We  do  not  stand  to  lose  by  this  tolerant  and  objective 
view  of  man's  institutions  and  morals  and  ways  of  thought. 
On  the  one  hand,  we  shall  value  the  bold  imagination 
that  is  written  in  all  great  systems  of  behavior;  on  the 
other,  we  shall  not  fear  for  the  future  of  the  world  because 
some  item  in  that  system  is  undergoing  contemporary 
change.  We  know  all  culture  changes.  It  is  one  of  its  claims 
upon  our  interest.  We  hope,  a  little,  that  whereas  change 
has  hitherto  been  blind,  at  the  mercy  of  unconscious  pattern- 
ings,  it  will  be  possible  gradually,  in  so  far  as  we  become 
genuinely  culture-conscious,  that  it  shall  be  guided  by  in- 
telligence. 

For  what  is  the  meaning  of  life  except  that  by  the  dis- 
cipline of  thought  and  emotion,  by  living  life  to  its  fullest, 
we  shall  make  of  it  always  a  more  flexible  instrument,  ac- 
cepting new  relativities,  divesting  ourselves  of  traditional 
absolutes?  To  this  end  we  need  for  our  scientific  equipment 
something  of  the  anthropologist's  way  of  looking  at  human 
behavior,  something  of  respect  for  the  epic  of  our  own 
culture,  something  of  fine  tolerance  for  the  values  thai 
have  been  elaborated  in  other  cultures  than  our  own. 


CONCEPT  OF  RIGHT  AND  WRONG* 

By  PAUL  RADIN 

ON  no  subject  connected  with  primitive  people  does  so 
much  confusion  exist  in  the  mind  of  the  general  public 
and  have  so  many  ill-considered  statements  been  made  as  on 
the  nature  of  their  behavior  to  one  another.  The  prevalent 
view  to-day  among  laymen  is  that  they  are  at  all  times  the 
plaything  of  their  passions,  and  that  self-control  and  poise 
are  utterly  alien  to  their  character,  if  not,  indeed,  quite 
heyond  their  reach.  Quite  apart  from  the  manifest  absurdity 
involved  in  the  belief  that  any  parent  in  a  primitive  group 
would  wreak  his  rage  at  his  lack  of  success  in  hunting,  in 
this  murderous  fashion  upon  the  first  object  that  came 
within  his  reach,  even  if  it  be  his  innocent  and  beloved 
child,  there  are  a  hundred  and  one  reasons  that  would 
have  deterred  him,  even  had  he  been  the  uncontrolled 
animal  the  illustration  assumes  him  to  have  been.  However, 
let  that  pass.  The  illustration  has  its  uses,  for  it  permits  the 
contrast  between  the  generally  accepted  belief  and  the  true 
nature  of  the  facts  to  emerge  all  the  more  definitely.  Actual!/ 
the  situation  is  quite  different. 

Briefly  stated,  the  underlying  idea  of  conduct  among  mo.'t 
primitive  tribes  is  self-discipline,  self-control  and  a  resolute 
endeavor  to  observe  a  proper  measure  of  proportion  in  dl 
things.  I  am  well  aware  that  in  some  tribes  this  is  more 
definitely  expressed  than  in  others  and  that  not  infrequently 
certain  excrescences  in  their  ceremonial  life  seem  to  con- 
tradict this  assertion.  Yet  I  think  most  field  ethnologists 
would  agree  with  me.  Since  in  the  face  of  so  formidable 
a  body  of  opinion  apparently  to  the  contrary,  incontrovertible 
svidences  will  be  demanded  of  me  to  substantiate  so  broad 

Man  as  Philosopher.    New  York:  D.  Applcton  &  Co. 
Si8 


EVOLUTION    OF    ATTITUDES  819 

and  explicit  a  statement,  I  shall  confine  myself  in  my  pres- 
entation of  the  facts  to  a  tribe  which  I  know  personally 
and  where  the  material  which  I  use  can  be  definitely  con- 
trolled. The  data  upon  which  I  rely  come  from  the  Winne- 
bago  Indians  of  Wisconsin  and  Nebraska  and  are  to  be 
found  in  two  monographs  published  by  me.  Only  state- 
ments made  by  the  Winnebago  themselves  in  accounts  either 
actually  written  by  themselves  or  contained  in  verbatim 
descriptions  of  the  rituals  obtained  in  the  original  Winne- 
bago are  used  in  order  to  obviate  all  inaccuracy. 

I  can  think  of  no  better  method  of  introducing  the  sub- 
ject than  by  quoting  appropriate  passages  from  the  Winne- 
bago texts  secured  and  then  discussing  them  in  the  light 
of  the  knowledge  they  throw  upon  the  system  of  ethics 
enunciated  and,  more  specifically,  upon  the  type  of  self- 
control  implied.  For  facility  of  reference  I  shall  numbei 
these  passages: 

1.  It  is  always  good  to  be  good. 

2.  What  does  life  consist  of  but  love? 

3.  Of  what  value  is  it  to  kill? 

4.  You  ought  to  be  of  some  help  to  your  fellow  men. 

5.  Do  not  abuse  your  wife;  women  are  sacred. 

6.  If  you  cast  ofl  your  dress  for  many  people,  they  will 
be  benefited  by  your  deed. 

7.  For  the  good  you  do  every  one  will  love  you. 

8.  Never  do  any  wrong  to  children. 

9.  It  is  not  good  to  gamble. 

10.  If  you  see  a  helpless  old  man,  help  him  if  you  have 
anything  at  all. 

11.  If  you  have  a  home  of  your  own,  see  to  it  that  who- 
ever enters  it  obtains  something  to  eat.  Such  food  will  be 
a  source  of  death  to  you  if  withheld. 

12.  When  you  are  recounting  your  war  deeds  on  behalf 
of  the  departed  soul,  do  not  try  to  add  to  your  honor  by 
claiming  more  for  yourself  than  you  have  actually  accom- 
plished. If  you  tell  a  falsehood  then  and  exaggerate  your 
achievements  you  will  die  beforehand.  The  telling  of  truth 


820  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

is  sacred.  Tell  less  than  you  did.  The  old  men  say  it  is  wiser. 

13.  Be  on  friendly  terms  with  every  one  and  then  every 
one  will  love  you. 

14.  Marry  only  one  person  at  a  time. 

15.  Do  not  be  haughty  with  your  husband.  Kindness  will 
be  returned  to  you  and  he  will  treat  you  in  the  same  way 
in  which  you  treat  him. 

16.  Do  not  imagine  that  you  are  taking  your  children's 
part  if  you  just  speak  about  loving  them.  Let  them  see  it 
for  themselves. 

17.  Do  not  show  your  love  for  other  people  so  that  people 
notice  it.  Love  them  but  let  your  love  be  different  from  that 
for  your  own. 

1 8.  As  you  travel  along  life's  road,  never  harm  any  one 
or  cause  any  one  to  feel  sad.  On  the  contrary,  if  at  any 
time  you  can  make  a  person  feel  happy,  do  so.  If  at  any  time 
you  meet  a  woman  away  from  your  village  and  you  are 
both  alone  and  no  one  can  see  you,  do  not  frighten  her  or 
harm  her. 

19.  If  you  meet  any  one  on  the  road,  even  if  it  is  only 
a  child,  speak  a  cheering  word  before  you  pass  on. 

20.  If  your  husband's  people  ever  ask  their  own  children 
for  something  when  you  are  present,  assume  that  they  had 
asked  it  of  you.  If  there  is  anything  to  be  done,  do  not  wait 
till  you  are  asked  to  do  it  but  do  it  immediately. 

21.  Never  think  a  home  is  yours  until  you  have  made 
one  for  yourself. 

22.  If  you  have  put  people  in  charge  of  your  household, 
do  not  nevertheless  act  as  though  the  home  were  still  yours. 

23.  When  visiting  your  husband's  people,  do  not  act  as 
if  you  were  far  above  them.1 

Obviously  we  are  here  in  the  presence  of  a  fairly  well 
elaborated  system  of  conduct.  To  those  who  consistently 
deny  to  primitive  man  any  true  capacity  for  abstract  think- 
ing or  objective  formulation  of  an  ethical  code — and  their 
number  is  very  large  both  among  scholars  and  laymen— 
^hc  injunctions  given  above  would  probably  be  interpreted 


EVOLUTION    OF    ATTITUDES  821 

as  having  a  definitely  concrete  significance.  That  is,  they 
are  not  to  be  regarded  as  attempts  at  generalization  in  any 
true  sense  of  the  word  but  merely  as  inherently  wise  saws 
and  precepts  of  a  practical  and  personal  application.  Now 
there  is  sufficient  justification  for  such  a  view  to  warrant 
our  discussing  it  before  we  proceed  any  further. 

A  number  of  the  precepts  given  avowedly  allow  a  con- 
crete practical  and  personal  application.  In  5,  for  example, 
we  are  told,  "If  you  abuse  your  wife  you  will  die  in  a  short 
time.  Our  grandmother  Earth  is  a  woman  and  in  abusing 
*vpur  wife  you  will  be  abusing  her.  Since  it  is  she  who  takes 
Are  of  us,  by  your  actions  you  will  be  practically  killing 
ourself."  To  precept  10  is  added  the  following:  "If  you 
^appen  to  possess  a  home,  take  him  (the  old  man)  there 
And  feed  him  for  he  may  suddenly  make  uncomplimentary 
remarks  about  you.  You  will  be  strengthened  thereby." 

We  thus  do  indeed  seem  to  obtain  the  impression  that  a 
Winnebago  in  being  good  to  a  helpless  old  man  is  guided 
by  motives  secondary  to  those  implied  in  the  precept  as 
quoted.  And  what  follows  would  seem  to  strip  our  ap- 
parently generous  precept  of  whatever  further  altruistic 
value  still  attaches  to  it,  for  there  it  is  stated  that  perhaps 
the  old  man  is  carrying  under  his  arm  a  box  of  medicines 
that  he  cherishes  very  much  and  which  he  will  offer  to 
you.  Similarly  in  precept  n  we  find,  "If  you  are  stingy 
about  giving  food  some  one  may  kill  you."  Indeed,  I  think 
we  shall  have  to  admit  that  in  the  majority  of  cases  none 
of  the  Winnebago  virtues  or  actions  are  extolled  for  their 
own  sake,  and  that  in  every  instance  they  have  reference  to 
and  derive  their  validity  from  whatever  relation  they  pos- 
sess to  the  preponderatingly  practical  needs  of  human  inter- 
course. "Don't  be  a  fool,"  precept  5  seems  to  imply,  "and 
don't  treat  your  wife  badly,  because  if  you  do,  you'll  run 
the  risk  of  having  the  woman's  protecting  deity,  the  Earth, 
punish  you."  I  should  not  even  be  surprised  if,  in  con- 
crete instances,  the  moral  was  further  emphasized  by  giving 
examples  of  how  men  were  punished  who  had  abused 


822  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

their  wives.  We  are  fairly  obviously  told  to  be  guided  by 
the  practical  side  of  the  question,  i.e.,  take  no  risks  and  get 
the  most  out  of  every  good  action  you  perform. 

Now  all  this  sounds  extremely  cynical  and  practical.  But 
we  must  be  fair  and  not  too  hasty  in  drawing  our  inferences. 
First  of  all  it  should  be  asked  if  the  Winnebago  in  actual 
practice  give  the  impression  of  always  being  guided  by  ego- 
tistical and  ulterior  motives,  and  second  it  should  be  borne 
in  mind  that  if  we  can  really  prove  that  the  ideal  of  human 
conduct  is  on  a  high  plane,  we  need  not  concern  ourselves 
needlessly  with  the  apparent  nature  of  the  motives  prom>  ^ 
ing  individual  acts.  As  a  matter  of  fact  primitive  •**  c^ 
are  much  less  guided  by  consciously  selfish  and  ul  y 
motives  than  we  are,  not  because  of  any  innate  superiv  \± 
over  ourselves  in  this  regard  but  because  of  the  conditio  ^ 
under  which  they  live.  But,  quite  apart  from  this  considera- 
tion, ought  we  in  fact  to  lay  undue  stress  on  illustrations 
following  what  is  clearly  a  general  principle?  Are  we  not 
after  all,  in  our  illustrations,  merely  dealing  with  a  state- 
ment of  what  happens  when  some  general  principle  of  the 
ethical  code  is  transgressed,  and  not  primarily  with  an  ex- 
planation of  the  principle  ?  I  do  not  feel,  therefore,  that  even 
those  instances  which  seem  superficially  to  corroborate  the 
prevalent  assumption  of  primitive  man's  inability  to  formu- 
late an  abstract  ethical  creed,  actually  bear  out,  when  more 
carefully  examined,  the  contention  of  its  advocates. 

Now  the  question  of  the  capacity  of  the  Winnebago  to 
formulate  an  ethical  code  in  a  fairly  abstract  fashion  is  of 
fundamental  importance  for  the  thesis  of  this  chapter  and 
that  is  why  I  am  laying  so  much  stress  on  it;  for  if  it  were 
not  true  our  precepts  would  have  to  be  regarded  in  the 
nature  of  mere  proverbs  and  practical  folk  wisdom,  as 
nothing  higher  indeed  than  crystallized  maxims  of  conduct. 

There  are,  however,  in  our  list  certain  precepts  where  the 
abstract  formulation  is  undeniable,  where,  in  fact,  reference 
to  the  particular  context  in  which  the  precepts  occur  not 
only  shows  no  secondary  concrete  significance,  but,  on  the 


EVOLUTION    OF    ATTITUDES  823 

contrary,  a  reinforcement  of  their  abstract  and  general  con- 
notation. In  precept  i  the  full  statement  is  this:  "If  you 
hear  of  a  person  traveling  through  your  country  and  you 
want  to  see  him,  prepare  your  table  and  send  for  him.  In 
this  manner  you  will  do  good  and  it  is  always  good  to  do 
good,  it  is  said."  Similarly  in  precept  2.  Here  it  is  in  the 
course  of  a  speech  delivered  at  a  ceremony  that  the  phrase 
occurs:  "what  does  life  consist  of  but  love?"  "All  the 
members  of  the  clan  have  given  me  counsel,"  the  speaker 
says,  "and  all  the  women  and  children  have  pleaded  in  my 
behalf  with  the  spirits.  What  love  that  wasl  And  of  what 
does  life  consist  but  of  love?" 

Here  we  have  no  concrete  practical  implications.  The 
statements  are  meant  to  be  taken  as  general  propositions. 
They  are  very  remarkable  enunciations  and  we  may  legiti- 
mately draw  from  their  existence  the  inference  that  even  in 
so-called  "primitive"  tribes,  certain  individuals  have  ap- 
parently felt  within  themselves  the  same  moral  truths  that 
are  regarded  as  the  glory  of  our  great  moralists,  and  that 
they  have  formulated  these  truths  in  general  terms. 

So  much  for  the  actual  formulation.  What,  however,  does 
this  Winnebago  creed  tell  us  about  the  idea  of  conduct 
itself?  Does  it  teach  us  that  love  and  forbearance  are  to 
be  practiced  for  their  own  sake  and  is  the  love  of  which 
they  speak  identical  with  or  even  comparable  to  our  idea 
of  love? 

When  a  Western  European  speaks  of  love,  forbearance, 
remorse,  sorrow,  etc.,  he  generally  understands  by  these 
terms  some  quality  belonging  to  an  individual  and  for  the 
possession  of  which  he  is  to  be  honored  and  praised.  We  do 
not  ask  whether  the  love  or  the  virtue  in  question  is  of  an 
intelligent  nature,  whether  it  does  harm  or  good,  or  whether 
we  have  any  right  to  it.  Who  among  us  would  speak  of 
an  individual  not  being  entitled  to  his  remorse  or  sorrow? 
We  assume  that  the  mere  expression  of -remorse  and  sorrow 
is  somehow  ethically  praiseworthy.  If  we  see  a  man  of 
manifestly  weak  character  but  of  a  loving  disposition,  even 


824  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

if  his  actions  are  inconsistent  with  a  true  love  for  his  fellow 
men,  insist  that  he  loves  them,  while  we  may  condemn  him, 
we  are  inclined  to  overlook  much  in  recognition  of  his  enun- 
ciation of  the  principle  that  love  of  mankind  is  the  highest 
ideal  of  life.  In  much  the  same  way  do  we  look  upon 
any  manifestation  of  sincere  remorse  or  sorrow.  We  simply 
regard  love,  remorse,  sorrow,  etc.,  as  inalienable  rights  of 
man,  quite  independent  of  any  right,  as  it  were,  he  may 
possess  to  express  them.  In  other  words,  the  Western  Euro- 
pean ethics  is  frankly  egocentric  and  concerned  primarily 
with  self-expression.  The  object  toward  which  love,  remorse, 
repentance,  sorrow,  is  directed  is  secondary.  Christian  the- 
ology has  elevated  them  all  to  the  rank  of  virtues  as  such, 
and  enjoins  their  observance  upon  us  because  they  are 
manifestations  of  God's  if  not  of  man's  way. 

Among  primitive  people  this  is  emphatically  not  true. 
Ethics  there  is  based  upon  behavior.  No  mere  enunciation 
of  an  ideal  of  love,  no  matter  how  often  and  sincerely  re- 
peated, would  gain  an  individual  either  admiration,  sym- 
pathy, or  respect.  Every  ethical  precept  must  be  submitted 
to  the  touchstone  of  conduct.  The  Winnebago  moralist 
would  insist  that  we  have  no  right  to  preach  an  ideal  of 
love  or  to  claim  that  we  love,  unless  we  have  lived  up  to 
its  practical  implications.  That  is  the  fundamental  basis  of 
all  primitive  education  and  is  unusually  well  expressed 
among  the  Winnebago.  "When  you  are  bringing  up  chil- 
dren," runs  the  injunction  to  a  young  mother,  "do  not 
imagine  that  you  are  taking  their  part  if  you  merely  speak 
of  loving  them.  Let  them  see  it  for  themselves;  let  them 
know  what  love  is  by  seeing  you  give  away  things  to  the 
poor.  Then  they  will  see  your  good  deeds  and  then  they 
will  know  whether  you  have  been  telling  the  truth  or 
not."  An  exactly  similar  attitude  is  taken  toward  remorse. 
"If  you  have  always  loved  a  person,  then  when  he  dies  you 
will  have  the  right  to  feel  sorrow."  No  amount  of  money 
spent  upon  the  funeral  of  a  person  with  whom  you  had 
been  quarreling  will  make  amends. 


EVOLUTION    OF    ATTITUDES  825 

But  it  is  not  merely  love,  remorse,  etc.,  to  which  you  have 
no  right  as  such.  You  have  equally  no  right  to  the  glory 
attendant  upon  joining  a  war  party  unless  it  is  done  in 
the  right  spirit.  In  the  document  from  which  most  of  our 
statements  have  been  taken — the  autobiography  of  a  Winne- 
bago  Indian — a  man  is  represented  as  being  about  to  embark 
on  a  war  party  because  his  wife  has  run  away  from  him. 
"Such  a  man,"  the  author  insists,  "is  simply  throwing  away 
his  life.  If  you  want  to  go  on  the  warpath,  do  not  go 
because  your  wife  has  been  taken  away  from  you  but 
because  you  feel  courageous  enough  to  go." 

In  consonance  with  such  an  attitude  is  the  differentia- 
tion in  the  degree  of  love  insisted  upon.  Love  everybody, 
it  is  demanded,  but  do  not  love  them  all  equally.  Above 
all  do  not  love  your  neighbor  as  you  love  those  of  your 
own  blood.  "Only  if  you  are  wicked,"  the  injunction  says, 
"will  you  love  other  people's  children  more  than  your  own." 
The  injunction  certainly  says  that  we  must  love  everybody, 
but  this  must  be  humanly  understood,  and  humanly  under- 
stood you  cannot,  of  course,  love  every  one  alike.  The 
Winnebago  would  contend  that  such  a  statement  would  be 
untrue  and  that  any  attempt  to  put  it  into  practice  must 
manifestly  lead  to  insincerity.  It  would,  moreover,  be  defi- 
nitely unjust  in  that  it  might  make  for  the  neglect  of  those 
whom  primarily  you  ought  to  love  most.  Here  the  difference 
between  the  attitude  of  primitive  man  and  that  of  Western 
Europe  is  most  clearly  brought  out.  According  to  primitive 
standards  you  deserve  neither  credit  nor  discredit,  neither 
praise  nor  condemnation,  for  giving  expression  to  a  normal 
human  emotion.  It  is  the  manner  in  which,  in  your  rela- 
tions to  the  other  members  of  the  tribe,  you  distribute  this 
emotion  and  the  degree  to  which  it  is  felt  by  others  to  be 
sincere,  that  calls  forth  respect  and  admiration.  It  is  wicked 
to  love  other  people's  children  as  much  as  your  own;  it  is 
wicked  to  love  your  wife  to  the  detriment  of  your  family 
and  yourself;  it  is  wicked  to  love  your  enemy  while  he  is 
your  enemv,  An  excellent  illustration  of  this  conviction— 


826  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

that  it  is  fundamentally  wicked  and  unintelligent  to  make 
the  expression  of  even  a  socially  commendable  emotion 
like  love  an  end  in  itself — is  contained  in  the  following 
passage  taken  from  the  autobiography  quoted  above: 

When  you  get  married  do  not  make  an  idol  of  the  woman 
you  marry;  do  not  worship  her.  If  you  worship  a  woman  she 
will  insist  upon  greater  and  greater  worship  as  time  goes  on.  It 
may  be  that  when  you  get  married  you  will  listen  to  the  voice  of 
your  wife  and  you  will  refuse  to  go  on  the  warpath.  Why  should 
you  thus  run  the  risk  of  being  ridiculed?  After  a  while  you  will 
not  be  allowed  to  go  to  a  feast.  In  time  even  your  sisters  will  not 
think  anything  of  you.  (You  will  become  jealous)  and  after 
your  jealousy  has  developed  to  its  highest  pitch  your  wife  will 
run  away.  You  have  let  her  know  by  your  actions  that  you 
worship  a  woman  and  one  alone.  As  a  result  she  will  run  away 
from  you.  If  you  think  that  a  woman  (your  wife)  is  the  only 
person  you  ought  to  love,  you  have  humbled  yourself.  You  have 
made  the  woman  suffer  and  have  made  her  feel  unhappy.  You 
will  be  known  as  a  bad  man  and  no  one  will  want  to  marry 
you  again.  (Perhaps  afterwards)  when  people  go  on  the  war- 
path you  will  join  them  because  you  feel  unhappy  at  your  wife's 
desertion.  You  will  then,  however,  simply  be  throwing  away 
your  life. 

A  complete  insight  is  afforded  by  this  example  into  every 
phase  of  Winnebago  ethics.  You  are  to  love  your  wife,  for 
instance,  but  it  is  to  be  kept  within  personally  and  socially 
justifiable  limits.  If  not,  the  whole  adjustment  of  an  in- 
dividual to  his  environment  is  disturbed  and  injustice  is 
eventually  done  to  every  one  concerned — to  his  family,  to 
his  wife,  and  to  himself.  Marked  exaggeration  and  dispro- 
portion would,  from  a  practical  point  of  view,  be  unthink- 
able in  a  primitive  community.  The  result,  in  the  hypo- 
thetical case  we  discussed  above,  is  clear;  loss  of  life  and 
suicide,  and  possibly  even  the  dragging  of  innocent  people 
into  your  calamity — those,  for  instance,  who  are  going  on 
a  warpath  properly  prepared  spiritually. 

The  psychology  expressed  here  is  unimpeachable,  To  have 


EVOLUTION    OF    ATTITUDES  827 

analyzed  the  situation  so  completely  and  so  profoundly  and 
to  have  made  this  analysis  the  basis  of  social  behavior  is 
not  a  slight  achievement,  and  this  achievement  is  to  be 
evaluated  all  the  more  highly  because  the  Winnebago  \va\ 
predominantly  a  warrior  culture.  The  objectivity  displayed 
is  altogether  unusual,  the  husband's,  the  wife's,  the  tribal 
viewpoints,  all  are  presented  fairly  and  clearly. 

NOTE 

1  All  these  passages,  with  the  exception  of  3,  18,  19,  and  20,  come  from 
Crashing  Thunder:  The  Autobiography  of  an  American  Indian,  edited  by 
Paul  Ratlin;  3  comes  from  the  myth  given  on  page  79  of  Primitive  Man  fl* 
Philosopher,  and  the  others  from  the  37th  Report  of  the  Bureau  of  Am&v* 
can  Ethnology. 


CLASS  RELATIONS* 

By  L.  T.  HOBHOUSE 

MORALITY  at  its  outset  is  bound  up  with  the  structure  of 
the  social  group.  Between  members  of  any  one  community 
the  obligations  recognized  may  be  many  and  stringent,  while 
in  relation  to  outsiders  no  obligations  are  recognized  at  all. 
The  typical  primitive  community  is,  as  it  were,  a  little  island 
of  friends  amid  a  sea  of  strangers  and  enemies.  The  con- 
sequences of  the  group  principle  we  have  traced  in  the  his- 
tory of  warfare.  We  have  seen  it  applied  in  its  extreme 
form  in  the  treatment  of  conquered  enemies  as  men  desti- 
tute of  any  title  to  consideration;  we  have  seen  that  as  moral 
development  proceeds,  it  is  moderated  and  softened,  but 
that,  except  in  the  highest  ethical  thought,  it  does  not  wholly 
disappear.  Throughout  history  we  have  the  standing  con- 
trast of  the  comparative  peace,  order  and  cooperation  within 
each  organized  society,  and  the  disunion  constantly  tending 
to  hostility  found  in  the  relations  of  different  societies  to 
one  another.  We  have  now  to  trace  the  operation  of  the 
same  principle  upon  the  structure  of  society  itself. 

The  primitive  community  is,  as  a  rule,  small,  but  com- 
pact and  homogeneous.  There  is  always  the  distinction 
between  its  own  members  and  outsiders;  there  is  also  a 
greater  or  less  distinction  in  the  rights  enjoyed  by  the  two 
sexes.  In  other  respects  the  obligations  constituting  its  ethical 
life  are  fairly  uniform.  But  as  society  grows  and  its  indus- 
trial life  develops,  as  primitive  barbarism  gives  way  to  some 
degree  of  culture,  this  simplicity  of  the  early  social  organi- 
zations breaks  up,  and  now  the  group  principle  obtains  a 
fresh  development.  Distinct  groups  arise  within  each  society, 
within  the  limits  of  a  simple  community,  under  one  king 

*  Morals  in  Evolution.    London:  Chapman  and  Hall. 

828 


EVOLUTION    OF    ATTITUDES  829 

or  one  governing  body.  Besides  the  group  of  free  men — to 
use  that  term  provisionally — who  constitute  the  members  of 
the  community  in  the  fullest  sense  of  the  word,  there  arise 
inferior  classes,  slaves  or  serfs  or  low-caste  men  who  are  in 
the  community  and  yet  not  of  it,  who  are  subject  to  its 
laws  and  customs,  but  not  possessed  of  all  the  civil  rights 
which  membership  confers.  These  inferior  groups  within 
the  community  occupy  a  position  which  is  morally  and 
legally  analogous  to  that  of  strangers  and  enemies.  In  ex- 
treme cases  they  are  wholly  devoid  of  rights,  in  other  cases 
their  inferiority  is  marked  by  a  more  or  less  serious  lack 
of  the  civil  rights  enjoyed  by  their  superiors.  Historically, 
in  the  case  of  slaves,  their  position  is,  in  point  of  fact,  very 
largely  that  of  incorporated  enemies,  and  whether  this 
corresponds  to  the  historical  fact  or  not,  ethically  speaking, 
the  denial  of  personal  rights  from  which  they  suffer  is  a 
consequence  of  that  same  group-morality  which  from  the 
first  contrasts  friend  and  neighbor  with  stranger  and  enemy, 
and  denies  to  the  one  the  elementary  rights  of  a  human 
being,  which  are  readily  accorded  to  the  other. 

Not  merely  political  privileges,  but  civil  rights,  the  right 
of  holding  property,  the  right  of  personal  freedom,  the  right 
of  marriage,  even  the  right  of  protection  of  life  or  limb,  are 
wholly  or  in  part  denied  to  classes  excluded  from  full  mem- 
bership of  the  community.  Such  distinctions  of  personal 
status  are  found  in  one  form  or  another  in  the  great  mass 
of  societies,  civilized  or  uncivilized,  which  stand  above  the 
lowest  stages  of  culture.  They  persist  well  into  the  modern 
period,  and  are  but  slowly  modified,  and  partially  abro- 
gated in  proportion  as  the  whole  principle  of  group-morality 
yields  to  ethical  criticism.  Of  these  distinctions  the  com- 
monest is,  of  course,  the  distinction  between  slave  and  free, 
but  slavery  is  in  many  cases  replaced  by  serfdom  and  in 
others  by  caste.  What  is  common  to  all  three  institutions  is 
the  derogation  from  full  rights  which  they  imply.  In  detail, 
they  are  distinct,  though  the  line  of  demarcation  is  not 
always  easy  to  draw.  We  may  say  that  the  slave,  properly 


830  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

regarded,  is  a  man  whom  law  and  custom  regard  as  the 
property  of  another.  In  extreme  cases  he  is  wholly  without 
rights,  a  pure  chattel;  in  other  cases  he  may  be  protected 
in  certain  respects,  but  so  may  an  ox  or  an  ass.  As  long  as 
he  is  for  all  ordinary  purposes  completely  at  his  master's 
disposal,  rendering  to  his  master  the  fruits  of  his  work, 
performing  his  work  under  orders,  rewarded  at  his  master's 
discretion,  and  liable  to  punishment  on  his  master's  judg- 
ment, he  may,  though  protected  in  other  relations,  fairly 
be  called  a  slave.  If,  on  the  other  hand,  he  acquires  a  certain 
position  of  his  own,  obtains  property  from  which  he  cannot 
be  dislodged  except  for  some  default,  enjoys  the  right  of 
marriage  and  protection  for  life  and  limb,  he  becomes, 
though  still  liable  to  labor  under  his  master's  direction,  still 
subject,  perhaps,  to  punishment  and  still  in  an  inferior  legal 
position,  no  longer  a  slave,  strictly  so  called,  but  a  serf. 
Serf  and  slave  alike  belong  as  a  rule  to  private  masters.  A 
servile  caste,  on  the  other  hand,  is  not  necessarily  in  the 
ownership  of  any  man  or  body  of  men.  It  is  distinguished 
by  a  greater  or  less  lack  of  personal  rights,  by  social  in- 
feriority, and  probably  by  a  taboo  cutting  it  off  from  inter- 
course with  others.  And  as  there  may  be  servile  castes  falling 
below  the  normal  level  of  free  men,  so  there  may  be  privi- 
leged castes  of  nobles  possessing,  as  it  were,  an  excess  ot 
rights,  and  these  privileges  may  indirectly  depress  the 
position  of  the  ordinary  member  of  society  and  impair  his 
freedom  by  withholding  protection  from  him  in  relation 
to  one  of  the  nobility.  Finally,  the  whole  community  may 
suffer  a  similar  depression  in  relation  to  the  king,  who,  in 
the  extreme  development  of  the  despotic  principle,  becomes, 
as  we  have  seen,  eminent  owner  of  all  property  and  lord 
of  the  persons  of  his  subjects.  In  such  cases,  though  there 
may  still  be  distinct  grades  in  society,  yet  all  subjects  alike 
are  in  principle  destitute  of  rights. 

Now  all  these  methods  of  the  gradation  of  rights,  if  the 
phrase  be  allowed,  rest  ultimately  on  the  principle  of  group- 
morality — the  principle  that  rights  and  duties  do  not  attach 


EVOLUTION    OF    ATTITUDES  83! 

to  the  human  being  as  such,  but  are  determined  by  ex- 
traneous considerations,  social,  political,  or  religious.  The 
development  which  this  principle  attains  varies  very  greatly 
in  different  societies,  and  depends  upon  economic  and  social, 
as  well  as  on  ethical  and  religious  conditions;  but  its  opera- 
tion in  one  form  or  another  persists  throughout  history, 
and  is  one  of  the  dominant  facts,  if  not  the  dominant  fact, 
ethically  considered,  in  the  evolution  of  human  society.  In 
tracing  its  varied  development,  we  shall  for  the  most  part 
follow  the  history  of  slavery  and  serfdom  as  the  main  line 
along  which  it  runs.  We  shall,  however,  deal  with  other 
forms  which  the  principle  assumes,  as  occasion  requires. 
2.  In  the  primitive  group,  as  has  been  said,  we  find,  as  a 
rule,  no  distinction  of  slave  and  free,  no  serfdom,  no  caste, 
and  little,  if  any,  distinction  between  chief  and  follower.  Tak- 
ing this  statement  alone,  one  might  infer  that  the  primitive 
savage  realizes  the  ideal  of  the  philosopher  of  a  com- 
munity of  free  men  and  equals;  but  the  savage  enjoys  free- 
dom and  equality,  not  because  he  has  realized  the  value  of 
those  conceptions,  but  because  neither  he  nor  his  fellow 
is  strong  enough  to  put  himself  above  his  neighbor.  Two 
conditions  suffice  to  ensure  the  growth  of  slavery  or  of  a 
servile  caste  in  the  savage  world.  The  first  condition  is  a 
certain  development  of  industrialism.  In  a  hunter  tribe, 
which  lives  from  hand  to  mouth,  there  is  little  occasion  for 
the  services  of  a  slave.  The  harder  and  less  interesting  work 
can  be  put  upon  the  women,  and  the  chief  occupation  ef 
the  men  is  to  fight.  This  brings  us  at  once  to  the  second 
condition,  which  is  a  measure  of  warlike  prowess,  giving 
to  a  tribe  the  means  of  supplying  slaves  from  its  captives. 
But  not  only  must  a  tribe  that  is  to  obtain  captive  slave?, 
conquer;  it  must  also  refrain  from  putting  its  captives  to 
death.  The  difficulty  of  exercising  such  restraint  militates 
against  the  rise  of  slavery  in  savage  society,  and  in  con- 
sequence, though  the  idea  of  slavery  is*  widely  diffused  in 
the  uncivilized  world,  the  institution  grows  more  important 
step  by  step  with  the  development  of  civilization.  We  find 


832  XL.  E    MAKING    OF    MAN 

many  civilized  people,  where  slavery  has  attained  a  luxuriant 
growth,  retaining  a  tradition  of  a  time  at  which  there  were 
no  slaves,  and  these  traditions  may  well  preserve  an  his- 
torical truth.  But  the  enslavement  of  the  vanquished  is  not 
the  only  alternative  open  to  a  conquering  people.  Instead 
of  apportioning  the  captives  to  individuals  as  their  booty, 
they  may  reduce  the  conquered  tribe  collectively  to  a  servile 
position.  In  that  case  we  get  from  the  first  a  system  of 
public  serfdom.  In  other  cases,  again,  possibly  as  a  develop- 
ment pf  this  practice,  the  distinction  of  conqueror  and  con- 
quered hardens  into  a  distinction  of  caste  sanctioned  by 
religion.  Finally,  the  development  of  military  organization, 
and  the  consequent  rise  of  the  power  of  the  chief,  are 
responsible  for  that  form  of  "rightlessness"  in  which  all 
members  of  the  tribe  become  slaves  of  the  king.1 

In  one  or  other  of  these  different  forms  we  find  the 
conception  of  a  class  of  men,  wholly  or  partly  destitute  of 
rights,  widely  diffused  throughout  the  uncivilized  world. 
The  special  home  of  slavery  is,  of  course,  Negro  Africa, 
where  the  exceptions  in  which  the  institution  is  not  found 
are  quite  inconsiderable.2  In  Oceania  there  is  more  variety. 
In  some  of  the  islands,  as  has  been  seen,  war  is  but  little 
known,  and  in  these  cases  slavery  is  also  absent; 3  but  there 
are  other  causes  militating  against  its  development.  In 
Melanesia  cannibalism  is  frequent,  and,  in  some  cases,  for 
example,  in  Fiji,  slaves  are  kept  for  cannibal  purposes.4  In 
Micronesia,  again,  a  strongly  marked  caste  division  par- 
tially replaces  slavery,  though  there  may  be  slaves  in  the 
proper  sense  in  addition  to  the  servile  caste.  Throughout 
Polynesia  caste  is  more  prominent  than  slavery.5  It  is  a 
Polynesian  saying,  that  "a  chief  cannot  steal,"  and  in  Tahiti, 
if  a  chief  asks,  "Whose  is  that  tree,  etc.,"  the  owner  answers, 
"Yours  and  mine."  The  killing  of  one  of  the  lower  by  a 
member  of  the  higher  class  is  regarded  as  merely  a  pec- 
cadillo.6 In  Micronesia  the  original  principle  of  the  constitu- 
tion seems  to  have  been  a  division  into  two  castes,  the  one 
god-like,  immortal,  and  possessing  all  the  power;  the  other 


EVOLUTION    OF    ATTITUDES  833 

having  no  souls,  no  property,  no  wives,  and  doing  all  the 
hard  labor;  but  below  these  again  were  the  enslaved  pris- 
oners.7 In  the  Malay  region  slavery  is  widely  diffused,  espe- 
cially in  the  towns,8  though,  as  we  shall  see  later,  its  forms 
differ,  and  in  some  cases,  particularly  under  Mohammedan 
influence,  the  slave  is  by  no  means  rightless.  Among  the  rude 
Indian  hill  tribes  the  institution  is  naturally  less  developed. 
In  some  cases,  as  among  the  Bodos  and  Dhimals,  there  are 
apparently  no  slaves,  and  the  same  is  said  to  be  true  of 
some  of  the  Naga  tribes.  Other  Nagas,  however,  make 
slaves  of  captives  °  and  among  many  other  hill  tribes  slaves 
are  held.10  The  nomad  tribes  of  Central  Asia  do  not  gen- 
erally spare  their  captives,  and  still  practice  human  sacrifice, 
but  the  richer  tribes  are  slave-holders.11  Among  the  North 
American  Indians  slavery  is  but  little  developed  east  of  the 
Rockies,  though  there  were  a  few  tribes  which  occasionally 
practiced12  it  as  an  alternative  to  the  torture  or  adoption 
of  prisoners.  In  the  west  and  north,  however,  it  was  widely 
diffused 3  8  though  here  also,  in  some  cases,  the  indiscrimi« 
nate  massacre  of  prisoners  was  the  common  alternative.  Iiv 
the  tribes  of  tropical  South  America  slavery  appears  to  be 
confined  to  war  captives,  but  prisoners  may  also  be  put  to 
death  or  adopted  as  members  of  the  tribe.14 

Thus  while  avoiding  undue  generalization  we  may  fairly 
say  (i)  that  in  the  rudest  tribes  there  are  no  class  distinc- 
tions, the  harder  and  more  menial  work  falling  often 
(though  not  always)  upon  the  women;  (2)  as  a  tribe  grows 
in  culture,  and  especially  in  military  strength,  the  first 
result  is,  as  a  rule,  that  the  conquered  enemies  are  sacrificed, 
eaten,  tortured,  or  in  any  case  put  to  death.  But  (3)  with  a 
certain  softening  of  manners,  or  at  any  rate  with  a  cooler 
perception  of  permanent  advantage,  prisoners  are  spared  and 
enslaved.  This  grace  is  first  reserved  for  women  and  chil- 
dren, but  is  afterwards  extended  to  male  captives.  A  class  is 
thus  formed  who  are  within  the  jurisdiction  of  the  con- 
quering tribe,  but  from  the  point  of  view  of  law  and  morals 
remain  outside  it.  Either  in  the  form  of  a  class  of  slave* 


834  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

Or  of  a  degraded  quasi-servile  lower  caste,  the  presence  of 
Such  an  element  in  the  population  is  a  general  feature  in 
societies  which  have  emerged  from  the  lower  savagery  and 
the  rawest  militarism.  On  the  strict  principle  of  group- 
morality  this  class  is  destitute  of  rights,  and  only  too  often 
the  principle  is  consistently  carried  out.  The  typical  slave 
can  neither  marry  nor  hold  property  except  on  sufferance. 
His  very  life  is  in  his  master's  hands.  He  may  be  flogged, 
maimed,  sold,  pawned,  given  away,  exchanged,  or  put  to 
death, 

3.  In  many  slave  systems,  however,  this  "rightlessness" 
is  qualified  in  various  ways.  How  this  qualification  arises 
we  shall  best  understand  if  we  take  a  more  complete  view 
of  the  actual  sources  from  which  slaves  arc  recruited. 
Hitherto  we  have  spoken  only  of  captives  in  war.  But  this, 
though  probably  the  original  method  by  which  a  servile 
class  is  formed,  is  not  the  only  method  by  which  it  is  re- 
cruited. Of  other  methods  the  first  and  greatest  is  inheritance 
—for  normally  a  slave's  child  is  also  a  slave.  Secondly,  in 
most  barbaric  and  semi-civilized  societies  the  numbers  of 
the  slave  class  are  swollen  by  other  causes,  principally  by 
debt,  crime,  and  the  slave  trade.  In  some  cases  slavery  is  the 
prescribed  penalty  for  crime.  More  often  the  man  who 
cannot  pay  the  prescribed  composition  either  falls  into 
slavery  himself  as  a  debt-slave  in  order,  as  it  were,  to  work 
out  his  debt,  or  sells,  particularly  under  the  sway  of  the 
fully  developed  patria  potestas,  his  wife  or  child  for  that 
purpose.  "What!  shall  I  starve  as  long  as  my  sister  has 
children  whom  she  can  sell?"  was  the  remark  of  an  African 
negro  to  Burton — a  remark  which  comprises  a  whole  chapter 
upon  primitive  ethics  in  a  few  words. 

The  formation  of  debtor-slaves,  and  even  the  increase  of 
hereditary  slaves,  has,  however,  a  certain  softening  influ- 
ence upon  the  institution  of  slavery  itself,  for  while  the 
captive  slave  remains  as  enemy  in  the  sight  of  law  and  morals 
and  is  therefore  rightless,  the  debtor  or  the  criminal  was 
priginally  a  member  of  the  community,  and  in  relation  to 


EVOLUTION    OF    ATTITUDES  835 

him  there  is  apt  to  arise  some  limitation  of  the  power  of 
the  master.  The  family  of  the  debtor-slave  will  not  see  him 
treated  with  unlimited  cruelty;  they  retain  some  right  of  pro- 
tection over  the  purchased  wife,  however  illogically.  In  fact, 
the  slave  is  no  longer  a  mere  stranger  or  enemy.  He  is  par- 
tially incorporated  in  the  community  and  has  some  recog- 
nized rights,  though  by  no  means  those  of  a  free  man. 
The  improvement  tends  to  extend  itself  to  the  hereditary 
slave  who  also  was  born  in  the  community,  though  within 
the  slave  class.  Thus  there  comes  to  be  a  distinction  between 
the  domestic  slave  and  the  slave  who  is  captured  or  bought 
from  abroad.  The  one  remains  a  chattel-slave,  the  other  is 
becoming  a  serf.  There  are  thus  many  gradations  of  "right 
Icssness"  in  the  servile  status,  and  these  must  very  briefly  be 
passed  in  review. 

Customs  protecting  the  slave  from  undue  tyranny  are 
found  in  the  barbaric  and  semi-civilized  world,  though  in 
many  cases  they  are  not  derived  from  barbaric  ideas,  but 
are  traceable  to  the  influence  of  Mohammedanism.  In  these 
customs  the  distinction  between  the  domestic  and  the  for- 
eign slave  is  generally  well  marked.  Illustrations  of  almost 
every  degree  in  "rightlessness"  may  be  drawn  from  African 
slavery.  Thus,  among  the  Foulah,  house  slaves  are  treated 
as  members  of  the  family,  and  are  sold  only  in  necessity  or 
for  a  punishment,  while  war  captives  and  purchased  foreign 
slaves  are  wholly  without  rights.  In  Bambara  captives  are 
pure  chattels,  but  house  slaves  have  a  good  position  and  in 
some  cases  are  treated  as  members  of  the  family.  Among  the 
Timmanees,  the  Bulloms,  and  the  Beni-amer,  no  one  is 
sold  as  a  slave  who  was  not  bought  as  such.  Among  the 
Mandingoes  native  slaves  are  protected,  while  others  are 
at  the  mercy  of  the  master  to  sell  or  kill.  On  the  Congo  the 
captive  slave  may  be  sold,  but  house  slaves  only  after  a 
palaver,  that  is,  with  the  consent  of  the  community.  Among 
the  Barea  and  Kunama  the  master  has  no  right  of  life  and 
death  over  native  slaves.  At  Timbuctoo  ho  native  can  be 
enslaved  at  all.  Among  the  West  Equatorial  tribes  the  slave 


836  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

may  be  killed  by  his  master,  but  not  sold  abroad  except  for 
some  transgression.  At  Nuffi  a  master  may  strike,  but  not 
mutilate  or  kill  his  slave.  In  Sokoto  and  among  the  Yolofs 
the  captive  slave  may  be  sold  at  will,  the  born  slave  only 
after  repeated  chastisement.  In  Bihe  pawn-slaves  are  pro- 
tected, while  bought  ones  can  be  arbitrarily  punished,  and 
only  in  the  case  of  their  death  is  a  small  fine  due  from  the 
owner  to  the  king.  Among  the  Mpongwe  the  house  slave 
can  only  be  sold  for  some  offense,  and  here  slaves  call  their 
master  "father"  and  are  well  treated.  The  Fantis  recognize 
the  distinction  between  the  slaves  of  their  own  tribe  and 
those  of  other  tribes,  and  among  the  Ibu,  on  the  Niger,  slaves 
can  hold  property,  build  houses  and  marry.15  They  then 
rank  as  free,  owing  only  a  yearly  tax,  and  the  relation,  in 
fact,  passes  into  a  kind  of  light  serfdom.  Similarly  at  Sokoto 
the  slave  is  at  about  the  age  of  twenty  given  a  wife  and  set 
up  in  a  hut  in  the  country.  At  Boussa  they  farm  the  land  on 
the  matayer  principle,  and  though  in* law  the  masters  could 
sell  them  and  take  their  wives,  children  and  goods,  in  prac- 
tice they  enjoy  much  liberty  and  property.16  Various  forms 
of  serfdom,  existing  often  side  by  side  with  slavery,  are 
common  in  Africa,  the  serf  cultivating  the  land  and  owing 
labor  service  or  payment  in  kind,  and  sometimes  holding 
property  of  his  own.ir 

A  right  frequent  in  Mohammedan  countries,  found  also 
in  one  or  two  instances  of  non-Mohammedan  tribes,  is  that 
of  changing  the  master.  This  a  slave  can  effect  by  the  legal 
process  of  noxa  datio,  by  which,  on  inflicting  some  in- 
jury on  some  man  other  than  his  own  master,  he,  if  so  facto, 
becomes  that  man's  slave.  Among  the  Barea  and  Kunama 
a  native  slave  can  simply  leave  for  another  village  and  so 
become  free.  In  Zanzibar  slaves  obtain  this  right  as  the  result 
of  deliberate  ill-treatment,  and  the  same  custom  is  found 
on  the  Congo,  among  the  Apingi,  and  other  West  Equa- 
torial tribes.  In  Ashanti  slaves  can  commend  themselves  to 
a  new  master  by  giving  him  the  right  of  life  and  death  over 
them,  and  in  Timbuctoo,  if  ill-treated,  a  slave  may  appeal 


EVOLUTION    OF    ATTITUDES  837 

to  the  court  in  order  to  be  sold.  Among  the  Beni-amer  the 
distinction  between  the  born  slave  and  the  foreign  slave  is 
well  marked  in  the  case  of  homicide.  For  the  bought  slave 
only  the  "wer"  can  be  demanded,  but  the  born  slave  can 
be  avenged  by  blood.  The  marriage  of  slaves  depends  gen- 
erally upon  the  will  of  the  master.  In  relation  to  property 
their  rights  vary  greatly  and  here  again  the  distinction  of 
origin  of  slaves  makes  itself  felt,  e.g.,  among  the  Bogos  and 
Marea  a  slave  who  is  the  son  of  a  free-born  man  has  the 
right  to  buy  his  freedom,  a  right  which  is  denied  to  the 
slave  by  birth.18 

Of  the  various  tribes  mentioned,  those  in  which  protec- 
tion is  carried  furthest  are  for  the  most  part  either  par- 
tially Mohammedanized  or  partially  Christianized,19  and 
while  some  distinction  between  domestic  and  foreign  slaves 
may  be  attributed  to  Negroland  generally,  such  further 
amelioration  of  the  slave's  position  as  is  to  be  found  in 
barbarous  or  semi-civilized  Africa  is  probably  to  be  attributed 
to  the  higher  ethics  of  a  civilized  religion.20  The  same  in- 
fluence is  found  at  work  among  the  Malays,  where  the 
distinction  of  native  and  foreign  slaves  also  reappears.  Speak- 
ing generally,  the  captive  slaves  are  destitute  of  rights,  and 
the  capture  and  sale  of  slaves  is  a  chief  line  of  business 
among  all  Malays  who  trade  in  ships  of  their  own.  But 
crime  and  debt  are  also  rich  sources  of  slavery,21  and  in 
some  parts  at  least  the  slave  has  a  measure  of  protection.  In 
the  Malacca  Peninsula,  where  the  influence  of  Islam  is 
strong,  the  slave  if  struck  may  bring  his  master  into  court, 
and  the  slave  woman  who  bears  a  child  to  her  master  goes 
free.22  The  Battaks  also,  head-hunters  though  they  are,  pift 
a  limit  on  the  master's  right  of  punishment.23 

Thus  in  the  barbaric  world  we  already  find  degrees  of 
rightlessness,  and  a  measure  of  legal  or  customary  proteo 
tion,  at  least  for  certain  classes  of  slaves.  This  alleviation 
is  often  but  not  always 24  traceable  to  the  influence  of  one: 
of  the  higher  religions.  The  fret  man  who  has  become  a 
slave  is  not  wholly  cut  off  from  membership  of  the  com* 


838  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

tnunity,  but  retains  certain  recognized  rights,  though  by  no 
means  those  which  full  membership  confers.  We  have  now 
to  see  how  the  idea  of  slavery,  and  of  rightlessness  gen- 
erally, fare  in  the  main  forms  of  civilization. 

4.  Slavery,  like  polygamy  and  divorce,  was  an  institu- 
tion which  Mohammed  found  fully  established  among  his 
fellow-countrymen,  which  he  disliked  and  set  himself  to 
mitigate,  but  could  not  attempt  to  abolish.  A  difference, 
however,  is  made  between  Moslem  and  non-Moslem  cap- 
tives. In  a  war  with  Moslems  prisoners  were  not  enslaved. 
If  the  prisoner  on  the  battlefield  became  a  Moslem  he  might 
not  be  killed,  but  according  to  the  traditions  he  ought  even 
to  be  set  free,  though  if  he  became  a  Moslem  subsequently 
he  remained  a  slave.25  The  holding  of  Moslem  .slaves  was 
not,  as  such,  prohibited,  but  their  emancipation  was  re- 
garded as  an  act  of  special  merit.  According  to  the  tradition: 

Whosoever  frees  a  slave  who  is  a  Moslem,  God  will  redeem 
every  member  of  his  body  limb  for  limb  from  hell  fire." 26 
Mohammed  sought  mitigation  of  the  slave's  lot  by  ethical 
rather  than  legal  means.  The  slave  has  no  civil  liberty,  and 
can  only  possess  property  by  the  owner's  permission.  The 
master's  power  is  unlimited,  and  he  is  not  slain  for  the 
murder  of  his  slave.  He  has  unlimited  power  over  his 
female  slaves;  as  a  matter  of  law  he  may  prostitute  them; 
he  may  give  a  slave  in  marriage  to  whom  he  will,  though 
he  may  not  annul  the  marriage  when  once  completed.1'7 
On  the  other  hand,  the  Prophet  enjoins  upon  Moslems  to 
exercise  kindness  to  slaves,  forbids  the  prostitution  of  slave- 
girls  as  a  religious  offense,  and  enjoins  emancipation  when- 
ever a  slave  is  able  to  redeem  himself.  "When  a  slave  of 
yours  has  money  to  redeem  his  bond,  then  you  must  not 
allow  him  to  come  into  your  presence  afterwards."  "Be- 
having well  to  slaves  is  a  means  of  prosperity,  and  behaving 
ill  to  them  is  a  cause  of  loss."  "Whenever  any  one  of  you 
is  about  to  beat  a  slave  and  the  slave  asks  pardon  in  the 
name  of  God,  then  withhold  yourself  from  beating  him. 
Feed  your  slaves  with  food  of  that  which  you  eat  and 


EVOLUTION    OF    ATTITUDES  839 

clothe  them  with  such  clothing  as  you  wear,  and  command 
them  not  to  do  that  which  they  are  unable/'  Wrongful 
punishment,  which,  in  some  institutions,  as  we  have  seen, 
is  a  legal  ground  of  manumission,  was  held  by  Mohammed 
to  be  a  moral  ground.  "He  who  beats  his  slave  without 
fault  or  slaps  him  on  the  face,  his  atonement  for  this  is- 
freeing  him."  As  an  illustration  of  the  spirit  in  which  thi* 
behest  was  conceived,  we  may  quote  the  story  of  the  Caliph 
Othman,  who,  having  twisted  his  memlook's  ear,  bade  the 
slave  twist  his  own.28  A  further  humane  provision  forbade 
the  separation  of  mother  and  child:  "Whoever  is  the  cause 
of  separation  between  mother  and  child  by  selling  and 
giving,  God  will  separate  him  from  his  friends  on  the  day 
of  resurrection."29 

Conversely,  the  Prophet  had  certain  promises  for  the  duti- 
ful slave:  "It  is  well  for  a  slave  who  regularly  worships 
God  and  discharges  his  master's  work  properly";  and  again: 
"When  a  slave  wishes  well  to  his  master  and  worships  God 
well,  for  him  are  double  rewards."  On  the  whole,  the 
authorities  tell  us  that  the  Prophet's  rules  of  good  treat- 
ment are  observed.  Masters  are  bound  to  maintain  their 
slaves  or  emancipate  them.  To  sell  a  slave  of  long  standing 
is  considered  disgraceful,  and  female  slaves  are  seldom 
emancipated  without  being  provided  for.  The  Egyptian 
slaves  in  Lane's  time  were  numerous  but  well  cared  for, 
and  ranked  socially  above  free  servants.  With  all  these 
mitigations  it  must  be  admitted  that  the  recognition  of  the 
slave  traffic  by  Mohammedanism  has  been,  and  is  to  this 
day,  a  curse  to  Africa  and  a  source  of  disturbance  to  the 
world's  politics. 

5.  Greece. — Like  the  Chinese,  the  Greeks  had  a  tradition 
of  a  prehistoric  epoch  in  which  there  were  no  slaves.80  But 
in  the  Homeric  epoch  we  find  slavery  in  full  swing,  and 
the  regular  issue  of  the  capture  of  a  town  is  that  the  men 
should  be  slain  and  the  women  enslaved.  .Hector  knows — 
and  no  thought  is  so  bitter  to  him — that  when  Troy  is  taken 
and  he  himself  is  slain,  it  will  be  Andromache's  fate  to  be 


640  THEMAKINGOFMAN 

£  bondwoman  to  one  of  her  conquerors.  Her  family  had 
already  suffered  the  same  fate.  The  swift-footed,  godlike 
Achilles  had  destroyed  her  father  and  her  seven  brothers, 
and  had  carried  off  her  mother  "with  the  rest  of  the  spoil," 
though  he  afterwards  set  her  free  for  an  immense  ransom. 
Now,  Hector  was  all  these  to  her,  but  the  day  would  come 
when  the  Argives  would  sack  the  sacred  town  of  Ilium 
and  Hector  in  his  turn  be  taken  from  her,  and  it  would 
be  her  lot  to  fall  into  slavery.81  Apart  from  legitimate  war- 
fare, piracy — which  for  that  matter  was  in  the  Homeric 
view  hardly  less  legitimate — was  a  frequent  source  of  slavery. 
Many  children  suffered  the  fate  of  Eumaeus  the  swineherd, 
and  were  carried  off  by  the  pirate  and  sold  across  the  wine- 
dark  sea.  Slavery  was  hereditary,  and  the  slave  might  be 
sold  or  put  to  death,  as  the  faithless  female  slaves  were 
hanged  by  Telemachus.32  On  the  other  hand,  slaves  might 
own  houses  and  property  of  their  own  and  live  in  the  prac- 
tical freedom  in  which  we  find  the  goodly  Eumaeus.  Lastly, 
it  should  be  noted  that  the  slaves  were  not  the  only  right- 
less  class,  for  the  stranger  is  also  outside  the  protection  of 
the  law,  though,  even  if  a  beggar  and  a  fugitive,  he  is  under 
the  shelter  of  Zeus  so  long  as  he  is  a  guest  and  claims  the 
right  of  hospitality. 

In  the  rural  districts  of  Greece  slavery  remained  rare. 
Pericles  lays  stress  on  the  fact  that  the  Peloponnesians  are 
autourgoi — cultivators  of  their  own  lands.33  It  is  even  said 
that  slave-holding  was  forbidden  in  Phocis  and  Lokris  down 
to  the  fourth  century.34  But  in  the  more  developed  states 
the  growth  of  wealth  meant,  as  always  in  the  ancient  world, 
increase  in  the  number  of  slaves  and— what  was  most  fatal— 
the  belief  that  work  was  not  compatible  with  the  dignity 
of  a  free  man.  Slavery  remained  a  recognized  fate  for 
prisoners  of  war  as  an  alternative  to  massacre,  and  even 
Plato  could  only  hope  that  Greeks  would  abandon  the  prac- 
tice of  enslaving  fellow-Greeks,  restricting  themselves  to  the 
barbarian,  who,  as  Aristotle  held,  was  the  only  natural 
slave.  But  through  the  institution  of  debt  slavery  the  poorer 


EVOLUTION    OF    ATTITUDES  84! 

classes  in  each  state  were  frequently  menaced  with  falling 
into  enslavement.  Before  Solon's  time  the  land  was  tilled 
by  poor  cultivators  for  the  rich,  and  on  their  failure  to  pay 
five-sixths  of  their  produce  to  the  landlord,  they  fell  into 
the  position  of  serfs  along  with  their  wives  and  children. 
The  prohibition  of  debt  slavery  and  the  pledging  of  the 
person  by  Solon  was  thus  the  salvation  of  civil  freedom 
for  Athens;  and  with  the  progress  of  Athenian  democracy, 
although  it  was  a  democracy  of  free  men  only,  the  position 
of  the  slaves  was  indirectly  improved.  The  master  had  the 
right  of  corporal  punishment  and  of  branding,  but  could 
not  put  a  slave  to  death  without  a  judicial  decision.35  A 
right  of  action  for  v/3oi$  protected  the  slave  from  ill-treat- 
ment by  strangers,  and  if  maltreated  by  his  master  he  could 
take  refuge  in  the  Theseum  or  some  other  asylum  and 
demand  to  be  sold — a  demand  which  was  investigated  either 
by  the  priests  or  by  a  judicial  process.  On  the  other  hand, 
the  slave  was  not  directly  recognized  as  a  personality  by 
the  law;  he  could  only  be  represented  by  his  master,  who 
could  sue  for  damages  on  his  account.  Except  in  murder 
cases  he  could  only  give  evidence  under  torture,  to  which 
he  might  be  given  up  at  the  will  of  his  master,  the  belief  being 
that  this  was  the  only  way  to  get  truth  from  him.  He  could 
only  give  evidence  against  his  master  upon  a  charge  of 
treason.  At  the  same  time  he  was  often  allowed  to  Jhold 
property  and  found  a  family,  while  he  might  buy  his  free- 
dom by  entrusting  his  earnings  to  a  priest. 

The  development  in  the  Dorian  states  was  somewhat  dif- 
ferent. Here  serfdom  was  more  prominent  than  slavery, 
though  the  two  institutions  existed  sometimes  side  by  side. 
The  Dorian  conquerors  divided  part  of  the  land  among 
themselves,  leaving  it  to  be  tilled  by  the  conquered  people 
as  public  serfs,  while  part  was  left  to  its  original  possessors, 
who  were  personally  free  but  had  no  political  rights.  Hence 
the  two  classes  of  Helots  and  Periocci.  The  conquered  popu- 
lation were  bound  to  the  soil,  but  could  not  be  sold  or 
set  free  except  by  the  State,  though  the  landlord,  for  whooi 


842  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

I  hey  cultivated  the  land  at  a  fixed  rate,  was  their  immediate 
•master.  The  Helots  of  Sparta,  as  is  well  known,  were  sedi- 
tious, and  were  ill-treated  and  frequently  put  to  death  in 
fear,  or  at  least  in  anticipation,  of  some  rising.  The  Penestae 
of  Thessaly,  who  were  otherwise  in  a  closely  analogous 
position  to  the  Helots,  were  better  off  in  this  respect,  as 
they  could  only  be  put  to  death  by  judicial  process.  In  Crete 
there  were  two  classes  of  serfs,  those  on  the  public  land  and 
those  belonging  to  private  owners,  who  might  contract  a 
legal  marriage  and  hold  and  inherit  property,  and,  according 
to  Aristotle,  were  treated  by  masters  on  terms  of  social 
equality.  Besides  these  two  classes  of  serfs  there  were  slaves 
who  might  be  bought  and  sold. 

It  should  be  added  that  the  distinction  between  the  citizen 
and  the  non-citizen  is  strongly  marked  throughout  Greek 
history.  Aliens  were  forbidden  at  Sparta  altogether,  and  at 
Athens,  where  their  numbers  became  great,  they  were  as 
such  destitute  of  rights,  but  in  practice  they  were  required 
to  inscribe  themselves  on  the  list  of  resident  aliens.  They 
then  came  under  special  State  protection,  for  which,  and 
for  the  right  to  exercise  a  trade,  they  paid  a  certain  tribute. 
They  still  required  a  representative  in  a  law  court,  and  had 
neither  the  right  of  marriage  with  citizens  unless  by  treaty 
with  their  own  State,  nor  the  right  of  holding  land.30 

The  organization  of  the  City  State,  in  fact,  led  naturally 
to  a  deeply-marked  distinction  between  the  full  citizen  and 
all  others,  whether  Greek  or  Barbarian,  whether  free  or 
unfree.  And  we  may  take  it  as  a  mark  of  the  ethical  su- 
periority of  the  Greeks  that  the  logical  consequences  were 
so  far  mitigated,  as  we  have  seen  them  to  have  been  in  the 
legislation  for  the  protection  of  slaves. 

6.  Rome. — At  Rome  the  strict  limitation  of  civil  rights  to 
full  citizens,  combined  with  the  peculiar  development  of 
the  powers  of  the  paterfamilias,  had  a  depressing  effect  upon 
the  position  of  slaves.  Not  only  captured  enemies,  but,  even 
down  to  the  time  of  Justinian,  any  unprotected  foreigner 
was  liable  to  enslavement.  A  free  Roman  could  not  become 


EVOLUTION    OF    ATTITUDES  843 

a  slave  within  Rome  itself,  but  deserters,  and  all  those  who 
were  omitted  from  the  census,  could  be  sold  abroad  by  the 
magistrate,  children  by  their  parents,  debtors  by  their  credi- 
tors, the  thief  by  the  injured  party. 

In  practice  the  slave  of  the  earlier  period  was,  as  a  rule, 
fairly  well  treated,  and  there  was  probably  no  great  social 
distinction  between  him  and  his  master;  but  he  was  in  law  a 
chattel.  He  had  no  family  of  his  own;  his  union  (con- 
tubcrnium)  was  no  legal  marriage.  He  had  no  status  in  a 
court  of  justice,  but  if  he  wished  to  sue  for  an  injury,  could 
only  do  so  through  his  master.  Even  if  abandoned  by  hi& 
master  he  did  not  become  free,  but  was  the  lawful  property 
of  the  first  comer.  Not  that  cruel  treatment  passed  without 
condemnation.  Cruelty,  even  to  animals,  was  subject  to 
religious  and  even  legal  penalties.37  Gross  cases  might  in- 
volve the  intervention  of  the  censor.  Though  the  slave 
could  legally  hold  no  property,  custom  secured  him  his  own 
peculium,  and  he  might  even  come  to  purchase  his  freedom. 

Such  was  the  position  of  the  slave  in  early  Rome.  The 
growth  of  the  Roman  dominion,  the  rise  of  the  great  estates,, 
submerging  the  old  freeholder  with  his  small  plot  of  ground, 
and  the  facility  of  obtaining  slaves  from  the  numbers  thrown 
into  the  market  by  capture  in  war  and  by  traffic  with  pirates, 
combined  to  give  Roman  slavery  towards  the  close  of  the 
Republic  a  new  and  dark  character.  The  land  was  cultivated 
in  many  districts  by  slave-gangs,  working  in  chains  and 
confined  by  night  in  prison  workhouses  under  conditions 
described  by  Mommsen  as  such  that  by  comparison  with  their 
sufferings  it  is  probable  that  all  that  was  endured  by  negro 
slaves  was  but  a  drop.  But  some  relief  came  from  the  hu- 
maner  ideas  of  advancing  civilization,  fostered  by  contact 
with  Greek  culture.  In  particular,  the  Stoic  philosophy  was 
the  champion  of  the  slaves.  Seneca  vigorously  pleads  their 
cause,  and  in  particular  reprobates  the  cruelty  of  the  gladia- 
torial games.  The  jurists  of  the  next  century  went  further, 
and  distinctly  laid  down  that  by  natural  law  all  men  -re 
equal  and  that  slavery  is  a  human  institution  contrary  to 


844  THEMAKINGOFMAN 

nature.  "Quod  ad  jus  naturale  attinet,  omnes  homines 
jequales  sunt,"  writes  Ulpian; 88  and  more  distinctly  Floren- 
tinus:  "Servitus  est  constitutio  juris  gentium,  qua  quis 
dominio  alieno  contra  naturam  subjicitur." 30  The  Stoical 
teaching  had  its  effect  on  legislation.  The  practice  of  the 
exposure  and  sale  of  children  and  of  pledging  them  for  debt 
was  forbidden,  while  an  edict  of  Diocletian  forbade  a  free 
man  to  sell  himself.  Man-stealers  were  punished  with  death. 
The  insolvent  debtor  was  no  longer  made  a  slave.  The  right 
of  bequest  was  granted  to  slaves.  Some  approach  was  made 
to  a  recognition  of  their  marriage,  not  only  after  emancipa- 
tion, but  even 40  while  in  slavery,  with  a  view  to  hindering 
the  separation  of  families.  Some  legal  security  had  already 
been  given  to  their  personal  property,  the  peculium,  by  the 
praetorian  edicts.  The  Lex  Petronia  (perhaps  of  A.D.  19)  for- 
bade throwing  a  slave  to  the  wild  beasts  without  a  judicial 
decision.41  Under  Hadrian  the  power  of  life  and  death  was 
taken  from  the  master,  and  under  Antoninus  Pius  the  mas- 
ter who  killed  his  own  slave  sine  causa  was  punished  as  a 
homicide.  An  edict  of  Claudius  had  meanwhile  enfranchised 
the  old  or  sick  slave  who  was  abandoned  by  his  master.42 
Under  Nero  the  slave  had  been  given  the  right  to  complain 
of  ill-treatment  to  the  magistrate.  Under  Pius  the  slave  who 
was  cruelly  treated  could  claim  to  be  sold,  and  by  a  special 
refinement  it  was  held  cruelty  to  employ  an  educated  slave 
on  degrading  or  manual  work.  Constantine  deprived  mas- 
ters who  abandoned  new-born  slaves,  of  their  rights  over 
them.43  Emancipation,  though  restricted  by  Augustus,  was 
again  made  easier,  and  though  the  use  of  torture  at  judicial 
investigation  remained,  it  was  in  some  respects  limited.44 
While  the  legal  position  of  the  slave  was  being  thus  im- 
proved by  the  imperial  legislation,  a  new  form  of  serfdom 
was  growing  up  under  the  name  of  the  Colonate.  Some  of 
the  Coloni  were  probably  foreign  captives  and  immigrants 
xttled  upon  the  soil,  while  others  were  originally  free 
tenants,  who  lapsed  into  a  semi-servile  condition  through 
the  insecurity  of  the  times  and  largely  through  self-commen- 


EVOLUTION    OF    ATTITUDES  845 

dation.  The  status  of  the  Coloni  was  regulated  in  the  fourth 
century  for  fiscal  purposes.  Under  Constantine,  in  332,  the 
Colonus  could  not  quit  his  holding  nor  could  he  marry  off 
the  property  of  his  lord.  On  the  other  hand,  he  could  not 
be  disturbed  or  be  subjected  arbitrarily  to  increased  charges, 
and  as  the  status  was  hereditary,  we  have  here  a  fully- 
developed  predial  serfdom  with  fixed  but  limited  rights  for 
the  serf.45  The  master  might  inflict  moderate  chastisement, 
but  the  Colonus  had  a  legal  remedy  for  injury  or  excessive 
demands.46  While  the  Colonate  was  partly  recruited  from 
the  previously  free  peasantry,  a  compensating  process  was 
going  on  whereby  rural  slaves  obtained  a  settlement  upon 
the  land  as  quasi-Coloni  or  Casati.  They  were  assimilated 
to  the  Coloni  by  the  law  of  Valentinian  I  in  377,  could  not 
be  sold  apart  from  the  land,  and  by  the  end  of  the  seventh 
century  were  merged  in  the  Colonate.47 

We  have  now  reached  a  point  in  the  history  of  slavery 
at  which  two  fresh  influences  have  to  be  considered.  The 
first  of  these  is  the  barbarian  conquests;  the  second  that  of 
the  mediaeval  Church.  The  German  tribes,  generally  speak- 
ing, recognized  chattel  slavery,  and  slaves  were  recruited 
from  the  sources  ordinarily  recognized  among  barbarisms — 
war,  unprotected  strangers,  voluntary  commendation,  and 
in  certain  cases  debt  (i.e.  in  cases  of  incapacity  to  pay  the 
wergild.  This  was  the  only  form  of  debt  slavery  known).48 
Even  in  Merovingian  times  the  slave  was  a  true  chattel, 
whose  life  had  indeed  a  price,  but  a  price  payable,  like  that 
of  the  Babylonian  slave,  to  his  lord,  and  not  a  fixed  wer  like 
a  free  man,  but  a  sum  proportionate  to  his  value.40  But  be- 
sides the  slaves,  who  were  not  numerous,  the  Germans 
recognized  a  class  of  imperfectly  free  men,  the  Liti,  who 
had  land  of  their  own,  without  which  a  German  could  not 
be  a  citizen,  but  were  in  a  dependent  position.  Their  status 
varied  very  much  from  tribe  to  tribe,  and  from  one  period 
to  another.  At  first  tributary  to  the  people,  we  find  them  at 
a  later  stage  in  subjection  to  an  individual  master.  They 
took  no  part  in  the  meetings  of  the  people,  and  while 


846  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

originally  they  could  plead  before  a  court,  their  wergild 
was  ordinarily  half  that  of  a  free  man.  Their  marriage  with 
free  people  was  a  mesalliance,  wherein  the  children  followed 
the  rank  of  the  mother.  As  we  approach  the  "Prankish" 
period  we  find  their  position  more  distinctly  assimilated 
to  that  of  serfs.80 

7.  Thus  the  Middle  Ages  begin  with  two  fairly  distinct 
classes  of  the  unfree;  on  the  one  hand,  the  slaves  proper, 
whose  position  has  been  ameliorated  in  Roman  law,  but 
remains  that  of  pure  chattels  by  the  law  of  the  conquerors; 
on  the  other  hand,  a  class  of  serfs  in  various  degrees  of 
freedom,  which  had  already  grown  up  in  the  later  ages  of 
the  Empire  and  was  reinforced  by  the  corresponding  class 
of  Liti  among  the  conquerors. 

The  history  of  the  decline  of  serfdom  in  the  later  Middle 
Ages,  both  in  France  and  England,  is  not  very  clear.  The 
lawyers  who  had  been  unfavorable  to  freedom  down  to  the 
thirteenth  century  changed  their  attitude  during  that  period 
under  the  influence  of  the  new  ideas  of  the  State  as  a  whole, 
no  longer  broken  up  into  half-independent  feudal  territories, 
but,  as  a  single  authority,  having  equal  claim  upon  all  its 
subjects  alike.51  That  these  more  enlightened  ideas  accom- 
panied the  improvement  of  social  organization  was  an  ex- 
tremely fortunate  circumstance  for  the  English  serf.  In 
England,  as  on  the  Continent,  freedom  might  be  acquired 
by  escaping  from  the  lord's  jurisdiction,  and  the  courts  now 
favored  liberty.  Feudal  barbarism  admitted  this  rough  and 
ready  method  of  emancipation  largely  because  it  lacked  the 
means  of  securing  the  person  of  the  runaway.  With  the 
growth  of  the  kingly  power  and  the  better  settlement  of 
society,  this  primitive  check  upon  oppression  would  naturally 
disappear,  and  thus  where  the  ethical  conception  of  freedom 
was  wanting,  the  growth  of  civilization  meant  the  prolonga- 
tion of  the  bondage  and  even,  as  in  Russia  and  Germany, 
deterioration  in  its  character.  In  England  and  France,  upon 
the  other  hand,  there  was  something  of  the  nature  of  an 
ethical  resistance  to  any  tightening  of  the  bonds,  and  thus 


EVOLUTION    OF    ATTITUDES  847 

the  development  of  order  had  a  beneficial  effect  on  the 
slave  rather  than  the  reverse,  for  it  tended  to  encourage  the 
system  of  money  payments  as  a  substitute  for  labor  service, 
and  though  in  theory  the  serf  remained  the  lord's  man,  yet 
in  practice,  in  proportion  as  labor  services  were  commuted 
for  a  money  rent  his  position  became  scarcely  distinguishable 
from  that  of  a  tenant  farmer.  From  whatever  causes,  servile 
tenure  was  in  fact  rapidly  becoming  obsolete  during  the 
fourteenth  century.  One  of  the  latest  records  we  have  of  the 
existence  of  bondmen  in  England  is  in  a  document  in  which 
Elizabeth  enfranchises  some  remaining  serfs  of  the  Crown 
in  I574,52  but  there  were  Scottish  miners  who  remained 
serfs  down  to  1799  and  were  not  particularly  desirous  of 
having  their  condition  changed. 

Yet  elements  of  servility  remain  in  the  position  of  the 
laborer.  The  Statute  of  Laborers  in  1348  was  passed  in  the 
intention  of  preventing  workmen  from  taking  advantage 
of  the  rise  in  wages  due  to  the  depopulation  of  the  country 
by  the  Black  Death,  and  was  the  beginning  of  a  series  of 
labor  laws  which  brought  the  laborer  into  a  position  which 
as  described  in  Blackstone  stood  as  follows:  (i)  The  law 
first  of  all  compels  all  persons  with  no  visible  effects  to 
work;  (2)  defines  their  hours  in  summer  and  winter; 
(3)  punishes  those  who  desert  their  work;  (4)  empowers 
justices  to  fix  the  rate  of  wage  for  agricultural  labor  and 
punishes  those  who  give  or  exact  more  than  the  wages  so 
settled.03  We  know  that  these  laws  were  largely  a  dead 
letter.  Nevertheless  they  illustrate  the  attitude  of  the  govern- 
ing classes.  What  was  in  practice  more  important  was  the 
Statute  of  Apprentices  (Fifth  of  Elizabeth),  which  restricted 
the  right  to  carry  on  a  trade  to  those  who  had  served  an 
apprenticeship,  while  the  operation  of  the  Poor  Law,  espe- 
cially of  the  Act  of  Settlement,  tended  in  practice  to  restrict 
the  motions  of  the  English  laborer  almost  as  much  as  regular 
serfdom  would  do.04  Indeed  had  this  statute  been  rigidly 
and  universally  carried  out,  it  would  have  had  the  effea 
of  fixing  the  laborer  in  his  parish  like  a  predial  serf  with* 


£48  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

out  the  right  upon  the  land  which  redeems  the  serf's  position. 
To  describe  its  practical  operation  in  these  terms  might 
savor  of  exaggeration,  yet  the  historian  of  the  Poor  Law 
declares  that  with  this  Act  the  "iron  of  slavery  entered  into 
the  soul  of  the  English  laborer,"  and  those  who  know  the 
midland  or  south  country  laborer  of  the  present  day  can  see 
the  scar  still  there.  Again,  Black  June  writes: 

A  master  may  by  law  correct  his  apprentice  or  servant  for 
negligence  or  other  misbehavior,  so  it  be  done  with  modera- 
tion; though  if  the  master's  wife  beats  him,  it  is  good  cause 
of  departure.  But  if  any  servant,  workman  or  laborer  assaults 
his  master  or  dame  he  shall  suffer  one  year's  imprisonment  and 
other  open  corporal  punishment  not  extending  to  life  or  limb. 

Further,  in  Blackstone's  time  a  servant  through  whose 
negligence  a  fire  happens  forfeits  >£ioo,  and  in  default  of 
payment  might  be  committed  to  a  workhouse  with  hard 
labor  for  eighteen  months.  It  is  not  difficult  to  recognize 
in  these  distinctions  between  the  rights  of  master  and  servant 
an  echo  of  the  law  as  to  lord  and  serf. 

Nor  was  the  English  law  altogether  free  from  caste  dis- 
tinctions in  the  earlier  part  of  the  modern  period.  The  bene- 
fit of  clergy,  which  had  originally  been  an  immunity  claimed 
by  ecclesiastics  from  the  secular  courts,  had  been  gradually 
transformed  into  a  mere  class  privilege,  whereby  educated 
persons  could  escape  punishment  for  secondary  offenses. 
Thus  in  the  eighteenth  century  the  question  whether  a  man 
would  be  hanged  for  larceny  or  not  depended  on  whether 
he  could  read,  unless  indeed  he  had  forfeited  the  benefit  of 
clergy  by  contracting  a  second  marriage  or  by  marrying 
a  widow.  In  1705  the  necessity  for  reading  was  abolished^ 
and  benefit  of  clergy  could  thereafter  be  claimed  by  all  per* 
sons  alike  for  a  first  offense  in  the  case  of  secondary  crimes 
But  important  distinctions  were  still  made.  The  offender, 
unless  he  was  a  peer  or  a  clerk  in  orders,  was,  until  1779, 
branded  in  the  hand  and  liable  to  seven  years'  transportation. 
.Clerks  in  orders,  on  the  other  hand,  might  plead  their  clergy 


EVOLUTION    OF    ATTITUDES  849 

for  any  number  of  offenses,  and  peers  had  received  the  same 
privileges  as  clerks  by  the  statute  of  1547.  On  the  other  hand, 
during  the  eighteenth  century  benefit  of  clergy  was  grad- 
ually withdrawn  from  an  increasing  number  of  offenses, 
but  it  was  not  until  1827  that  it  was  finally  abolished,  and 
even  then  it  was  doubtful  whether  the  privilege  of  peers  fell 
with  it.  This  question  was  not  settled  until  1841,  when  the 
statute  of  Edward  VI  was  repealed,  and  peers  accused  of 
felony  became  liable  to  the  same  punishments  as  other 
persons. 

When  it  is  remembered,  further,  that  the  whole  adminis- 
tration of  petty  justice  and  of  the  preliminary  process  in 
graver  crimes  was  in  the  hands  of  the  landed  gentry,  upon 
whose  estates  the  laboring  classes,  rendered  landless  by  eco- 
nomic changes,  were  fixed,  as  has  been  shown,  by  the  Act  of 
Settlement,  when  it  is  further  borne  in  mind  that  the  same 
justices  had  the  power  of  fixing  wages,  and  that  the  whole 
of  the  working  classes  in  the  country  were  always  upon  or 
over  the  verge  of  pauperism  and  dependent  upon  the  sup- 
port of  the  poor  law,  the  control  of  which  was  substantially 
in  the  same  hands,  it  will  be  recognized  that  the  nominal 
freedom  of  the  English  laborer  down  to  the  beginning  of  the 
reform  period  was  a  blessing  very  much  disguised,  and  that 
the  reality  compared  unfavorably  with  the  lighter  forms  of 
serfdom.  The  first  stages  in  the  progress  of  the  factory  system 
made  matters  even  worse.  The  new  demand  for  child  labor 
introduced  for  a  period  what  was  in  essence  if  not  in  name 
a  form  of  child  slavery,  pauper  children  being  regularly 
imported  in  the  manufacturing  districts  as  apprentices  and 
set  to  work  under  conditions  as  to  hours  and  also  as  to 
housing  which  would  have  been  onerous  even  at  less  ten* 
der  years.  But  these  abuses,  when  fully  realized  by  the  public, 
were  met  within  a  period  of  time  which,  in  comparison  with 
the  normal  slowness  of  reform,  may  almost  be  called  brief, 
by  a  series  of  legislative  measures,  overriding  the  so-called 
freedom  of  contracts,  and  protecting  the  children  from  their 
legal  guardians.  The  factory  system,  in  short,  reproduced 


850  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

the  economic  conditions  under  which,  in  other  circum- 
stances, a  form  of  slavery  would  have  arisen.  And  from  this 
result  England  and  the  other  industrial  nations  with  it  have 
been  saved  by  a  distinctively  ethical  movement. 

Upon  the  Continent  the  direct  manumission  of  serfs  was 
perhaps  more  frequent  than  in  England.  Enfranchisements 
en  bloc  were  common.  We  even  hear  of  such  things  being 
done  by  abbeys.  St.  Benedict  of  Aniane  in  the  ninth  century 
emancipates  serfs  on  the  land  which  he  receives.55  Charters 
were  spmetimes  given  upon  payment  to  whole  villages  and 
by  kings  to  whole  counties.  In  1315  Louis  X  invited  all  the 
serfs  on  the  Crown  lands  to  purchase  their  liberty,  but  the 
price  asked  was  too  high.  A  general  abolition  of  personal 
serfdom  was  demanded  by  the  Third  Estate  at  Blois  in  1576, 
and  again  in  Paris  in  1614.  This  was  not  granted,  but  the 
institution  was  quite  unknown  in  many  provinces  in  the 
seventeenth  century.  It  remained  in  Franche-Comte,  Bour- 
goyne,  Alsace-Lorraine,  Trois  Evcches,  Champagne,  Bour- 
bonnais,  La  Marche,  Nivernois,  Berry:  but  the  burden  was 
relatively  light,  and  when  the  Duke  of  Lorraine  proposed 
a  money  commutation  for  their  services  in  1711,  the  serfs 
who  were  to  benefit  by  it  themselves  raised  objections.  The 
question  was  raised  by  Voltaire,  and  by  an  edict  of  1779 
Louis  XVI  enfranchised  the  serfs  of  the  royal  domain  and 
encouraged  general  abolition.  Serfdom  was  finally  abolished 
in  France  without  compensation  on  the  night  of  August  4, 
1789,  along  with  the  other  incidents  of  feudal  tenure.  At  the 
same  time  fell  the  whole  system  of  privileges  which  had 
made  the  nobles  and  the  clergy  castes  set  apart  from  the 
mass  of  the  people. 

In  the  German  Empire  the  progress,  which  we  have  seen 
going  forward  until  the  thirteenth  century,  was  arrested  in 
the  fifteenth,  and  a  reaction  took  place,  leading  to  the  peas- 
ant war  at  the  time  ot  the  Reformation.  Serfdom  lingered 
on,  but  in  1719-20  it  was  abolished  on  the  Crown  lands  of 
East  Prussia  by  Frederick  William  I.  Frederick  the  Great 
attempted  to  forbid  corporal  punishment  and  aimed  at  a 


EVOLUTION    OF    ATTITUDES  851 

general  emancipation,  but  achieved  little  except  in  Prus- 
sian Poland.  The  liberation  of  the  German  serf  was  to  come 
indirectly  from  the  French  Revolution.  Napoleon  carried 
out  emancipation  in  the  conquered  territory,  and  as  part  of 
the  general  preparation  for  resistance  to  France,  the  Prussian 
statesmen  issued  an  edict  in  1807  by  which  the  whole 
population  of  Prussia  was  made  free  by  a  stroke  of  the  pen.59 
Serfdom  admitting  arbitrary  exactions  and  corporal  pun- 
ishment remained,  notwithstanding  the  efforts  of  Maria 
Theresa  and  her  successors,  in  a  great  part  of  the  Austrian 
Empire  down  to  1848.  It  was  abolished  in  Russia  in  1861.  The 
emancipation  of  the  Russian  serf  may  be  taken  as  the  final 
termination  of  the  enslavement  by  law,  whether  complete 
or  partial,  of  white  men.  The  later  stages  of  the  process  in 
the  more  backward  countries  were  thus  clearly  deliberate 
acts  of  government,  based  upon  general  conceptions  either 
of  human  rights  or  of  the  conditions  of  social  well-being. 
And  on  the  whole  the  continental  serf  gained  something 
through  the  delay.  Emancipated  in  England  more  by  eco- 
nomic causes  than  on  ethical  principles,  he  tended  to  become 
a  landless  laborer,  more  abject  in  some  relations  than  a  serf 
with  defined  rights.  On  the  Continent  in  most  countries 
he  retained  his  land,  subject  to  servile  restrictions,  and  when 
the  ethical  movement  struck  off  his  chains,  it  left  him  a  free 
peasant  cultivator.  In  England  his  practical  freedom  was  to 
be  won  at  a  later  date  and  at  the  cost  of  a  depletion  of  the 
rural  districts,  which  is  raising  the  agrarian  problem  in 
a  form  elsewhere  unknown.  So  much  depends  on  the  nature 
of  the  causes  determining  a  change  like  that  from  servitude 
to  freedom,  however  great  the  inherent  importance  of  the 
change  itself. 

8.  The  abolition  of  slavery  and  serfdom  in  the  modern 
world  may,  from  one  point  of  view,  be  described  as  a  process 
whereby  the  obligations  of  group-morality  were  extended  so 
as  to  cover  all  Christians,  or  at  any  rate  all  white  Chris- 
tians. Unfortunately,  this  result  is  not  the  same  thing  as  a 
strictly  universalistic  morality.  As  long  as  the  Christian 


852  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

communities  lived  in  isolation,  and  did  not  come  into  touch 
with  weaker  races  as  their  conquerors,  the  matter  was  not 
one  of  any  very  practical  moment,  but  when,  with  the  dis- 
covery of  a  new  world  and  the  circumnavigation  of  Africa, 
a  fresh  economic  position  arose,  making  slave  labor  indus- 
trially advantageous,  while  at  the  same  time  a  vast  black 
population  was  put  at  the  disposal  of  the  far  stronger  white 
man,  slavery  grew  up  again  in  a  new  and,  in  some  respects, 
a  more  debased  form.  It  is  worth  noting,  as  illustrating  the 
ethical  principle  involved,  that  the  old  Roman  slavery 
had  never  entirely  disappeared.  In  the  eleventh  century  we 
find  Gregory  VII  exacting  from  Demetrius  of  Dalmatia 
a  promise  not  to  s.cll  men.  There  was  a  slave  trade  with 
Mussulmans  in  Venice  and  in  Sicily  right  through  the  me- 
dieval period.  In  the  twelfth  century  slaves  were  sold  at 
fairs  in  Champagne,  and  Saracen  slaves  were  found  in  the 
south  of  France  in  possession  of  a  bishop  at  that  period.67 
Though  the  French  law  in  the  sixteenth  century  recognized 
that  no  slave  could  exist  on  French  soil,  the  maxim,  as  formu- 
lated by  Loisel,  is  applied  to  those  who  enter  France  only 
upon  their  being  baptized.  But  these  smoldering  embers  of 
slavery  were  now  destined  to  burst  out  into  flame.  The  Portu- 
guese began  importing  negro  slaves  in  1442,  and  obtained 
a  bull  sanctioning  the  practice  from  Pope  Nicholas  V  in  1454. 
The  reason  was  characteristic.  A  great  number  of  the  cap- 
tives had  been  converted  to  the  Catholic  faith,  "and  it  is 
hoped  that  by  the  favor  of  the  divine  clemency,  if  this  process 
is  continued,  the  nations  themselves  may  be  converted  to  the 
faith,  or  at  any  rate  the  souls  of  many  from  among  them 
may  be  made  of  profit  to  Christ."58  In  fact,  the  hope — 
probably  the  quite  sincere  hope — of  saving  souls,  paralyzed, 
to  say  the  least,  the  protest  which  would  otherwise  have  been 
made  against  what  was  in  essence  a  revival  of  one  of  the 
worst  features  of  barbarism.  It  was  quite  a  logical  exception 
made  by  Pope  Calixtus  III  in  1456,  when  he  prohibited  the 
enslavement  of  Christians  in  the  East,  and  by  Pius  II  in 
^1462,  when  he  severely  blamed  Christians  who  enslaved 


EVOLUTION    OF    ATTITUDES  853 

negro  neophytes.  When  Columbus  shipped  500  enslaved 
Indian  prisoners  to  Spain  to  sell  as  slaves,  the  law  of  the  case 
was  investigated  by  Isabella,  and,  theologians  differing  in 
their  view,  she  finally  ordered  the  Indians  to  be  sent  back 
to  their  homes.59  Meanwhile,  in  the  New  World  the  Span- 
iards were  making  slaves  freely  of  Indians  and  treating  them 
with  great  cruelty.  Las  Casas,  impressed  with  the  horrors 
which  he  saw,  was  struck  with  the  idea  that  negroes  would 
endure  that  bondage  without  sinking  under  it,  and  with  the 
most  benevolent  intentions  gave  the  most  unfortunate  ad- 
vice that  residents  in  Hispaniola  should  be  allowed  to 
import  negro  slaves.60  Regular  black  traffic  accordingly 
began,  notwithstanding  successive  efforts  made  by  the 
Popes,  when  they  grasped  the  situation,  to  suppress  it.61  All 
the  great  trade  nations  of  Western  Europe  joined  in  the  traf- 
fic, and  must  share  the  blame  alike.  Europe  itself  was  not  pre- 
served whole  from  this  scourge.  In  England,  indeed,  it  was 
held  in  the  case  of  the  negro  Somerset  (1772)  that  English 
soil  emancipated,  but  this  doctrine,  which  had  been  good 
law  in  France  in  1571,  was  suspended  in  1716  and  again  in 
1738.  Slaves  became  common,  and  were  even  sold  at  Paris 
down  to  1762.  From  the  sixteenth  to  the  eighteenth  century 
the  Popes  themselves  had  Turkish  galley-slaves,  and  Louis 
XIV,  besides  these,  had  Jewish  slaves  and  Russian  captives.02 
This  second  slavery  was  put  down  by  a  distinctly  ethical 
movement.  It  began  with  the  Quakers  in  the  seventeenth 
century.  George  Fox  had  already  desired  the  Friends  in 
America  to  treat  their  negroes  well,  and  "that  after  certain 
years  of  servitude  they  should  set  them  free."  In  1727  the  So- 
ciety declared  that  slavery  was  not  an  allowed  practice.  In 
1761  they  excluded  from  membership  all  concerned  in  it, 
and  in  1783  formed  an  association  for  liberating  negroes  and 
discouraging  the  traffic.  The  Pennsylvanian  Quakers  had 
condemned  it  from  1696  onwards.  Many  leading  names  in 
English  thought  are  quoted  in  Dr.  Ingram's  History  as 
opponents  of  the  slave  trade  from  the  end  of  the  seventeenth 
century  to  that  of  the  eighteenth.  Among  them  are  Baxter, 


854  THEMAKINGOFMAN 

Stccle,  Pope,  Cowper,  Day,  Hutcheson,  Wesley,  Whitefield, 
Adam  Smith,  Johnson  and  Paley.  An  English  Committee 
for  the  abolition  of  the  slave  trade  was  formed  in  1787,  and 
the  motion  for  the  abolition,  which  was  defeated  in  the 
House  of  Lords  in  1794,  was  carried  under  Fox's  premier- 
ship in  i8o7.03  The  French  Revolution  had  gone  further. 
In  1791  the  old  principle  that  the  French  soil  emancipates 
was  reasserted  by  the  Convention,  and  in  1794  slavery  in 
the  French  colonies  was  abolished  by  decree.  But  the  mo' 
ment  was  ill-chosen,  as  Hayti  was  in  revolt,  and  Napoleon 
restored  slavery  in  1802.  At  the  Congress  of  Vienna,  British 
influence  was  active  in  obtaining  the  consent  of  other  nations 
for  the  suppression  of  the  slave  trade,  and  France  acquiesced, 
in  the  treaties  of  1814  and  1815.  The  British  and  Foreign 
Anti-Slavery  Society  was  founded  in  1823,  and  secured  Abo- 
lition ten  years  later.  Slavery  was  abolished  by  France  in  1848, 
by  Portugal  in  1858,  by  the  Dutch  in  1863,  and  by  Brazil  in 
1888.  The  founders  of  the  United  States  had  been  opposed 
to  slavery  and  attempted  to  exclude  it  by  the  Constitution, 
but  were  defeated  by  the  opposition  of  South  Carolina  and 
Georgia.  An  Abolition  Society  was  formed  in  1774  and  re- 
constructed by  Franklin  in  1787.  The  Northern  States 
adopted  measures  for  abolition  between  1777  and  1804,  and 
importation  was  prohibited  by  the  United  States  in  1807. 
An  Anti-Slavery  Society  was  founded  in  1833,  and  at  the 
cost  of  civil  war  emancipation  was  proclaimed  in  i863.64 
Unfortunately,  the  legacy  of  slavery  remains  in  the  Southern 
States,  taking,  on  the  one  hand,  the  form  of  the  most  hor- 
rible personal  cruelties  which  disgrace  any  nation  claiming 
to  be  civilized,  and  on  the  other  hand,  the  efforts  to  re- 
introduce  slavery  by  a  side  wind  through  the  corrupt  use  of 
the  criminal  law. 

9.  Slavery  is  no  longer  admittedly65  practiced  by  any 
white  nation.  On  the  other  hand,  the  problem  of  dealing 
with  colored  labor  has  not  been  yet  satisfactorily  solved. 
Here  and  there  "forced  labor"  has  been  allowed,  and  forms 
of  contract  labor  are  common,  which,  to  say  the  least,  are 


EVOLUTION    OF    ATTITUDES  855 

difficult -to  keep  free  from  every  servile  taint.  The  questions 
raised  by  the  various  forms  of  contract  allowed  by  the 
British  and  other  civilized  governments  since  the  abolition 
of  slavery  belong,  however,  rather  to  the  controversies  of 
the  moment  than  to  the  historical  study  which  is  the  object 
of  the  present  work,  and  I  do  not  propose  to  discuss  them 
here.  It  may,  however,  be  allowable  to  say  that  the  modern 
tendency  to  the  concentration  of  wealth,  or  at  least  of 
the  forces  directing  labor  in  a  few  hands,  taken  in  con- 
junction with  the  vast  reserves  of  cheap  labor  to  which 
access  has  been  given  by  the  opening  up  of  China  and  the 
African  continent  reproduce  in  very  essential  features  the 
conditions  out  of  which  great  slave  systems  have  arisen 
in  the  past,  and  the  temptation  to  utilize  the  cheap  and 
relatively  docile  labor  of  a  weaker  and  perhaps  a  subjugated 
race  against  the  well-organized  battalions  of  the  white 
artisans,  is  one  by  which  leaders  of  industry,  being  human, 
cannot  fail  to  be  attracted,  and  therefore  raises  possibilities 
which  no  statesman  can  ignore. 

The  result  of  this  brief  review  is  to  show  that  the  prin- 
ciple of  the  equality  of  all  classes  before  the  law  can  hardly 
be  said  to  have  been  accepted  by  the  Western  world  as  a 
whole  before  the  revolutionary  period.  The  whole  structure 
of  medieval  society  has  been  based  upon  the  principle  of 
subordination  and  was  molded  in  the  spirit  of  caste.  Con* 
fronted  at  all  times  with  the  doctrine  of  Christian  Brother- 
hood, and,  later  on,  with  the  principle  of  natural  equality, 
this  structure  was  also  undermined  by  the  growth  of  in- 
dustry and  the  complex  forces,  ethical,  political,  and  eco- 
nomic, which  transformed  the  feudal  kingdom  into  the 
organized  state.  Under  these  influences  slavery  proper  dis- 
appeared as  we  have  seen  in  the  course  of  the  twelfth  cen- 
tury; and  in  the  most  advanced  nations  serfdom  followed 
it  in  the  period  between  the  thirteenth  century  and  the 
sixteenth.  But  for  the  completion  of  the  work  fully  two 
more  centuries  were  required.  In  the  less  advanced  coun- 
tries serfdom  itself  lingered  on  into  the  nineteenth  cen- 


856  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

tury.  In  France,  though  caste  privileges  grew  more  and 
more  out  of  harmony  with  the  spirit  of  the  time,  they 
could  only  be  destroyed  by  a  revolution.  In  England,  where 
they  were  rather  a  practical  consequence  of  political  su* 
periority  than  the  express  subject  of  legal  enactment,  they 
yielded  later  but  more  peacefully  to  the  influences  of  the 
Reform  period.  So  modern  is  the  change  whereby  law  and 
public  institutions  have  turned  towards  equality  rather 
than  subordination  as  their  ideal.  An  ideal  such  equality 
must  perhaps  always  be.  Wealth  and  influence  will  always 
have  their  weight,  not  only  in  social  life,  but  in  the  business 
of  government  and  even  in  the  administration  of  justice. 
Yet  the  true  spirit  of  caste  is  gradually  being  reduced  to 
a  shadow  of  its  former  self.  Expelled  by  slow  degrees  from 
the  sphere  of  law  and  government,  it  has  been  left  to 
amuse  itself  with  a  mock  kingdom  in  the  region  of  cere- 
monial and  social  intercourse,  in  which  the  ghosts  of  by- 
gone realities  keep  up  a  mock  state  for  the  amusement  of 
the  philosopher. 

As  long  as  class,  racial,  and  national  antagonism  play  a 
part  in  life  we  cannot  say  that  group-morality  has  been 
altogether  overcome.  Nevertheless,  the  evolution  sketched 
in  the  present  and  preceding  chapter  is  of  no  small  signifi- 
cance for  ethics.  At  the  outset  men  are  organized  in  small 
groups  bound  to  mutual  aid  and  forbearance,  while  they 
are  indifferent  or  hostile  to  outsiders.  There  is  no  organic 
bond  uniting  humanity  as  a  whole.  Hence  the  captive  enemy 
and,  in  principle,  unless  there  are  special  reasons  to  the 
contrary,  the  peaceful  stranger  are  "rightless."  But  by  de- 
grees a  wider  conception  of  obligation  arises.  Fellow-Greeks, 
co-religionists,  fellow-white  men,  ultimately  fellow-men, 
enter  the  circle  to  which  obligations  apply,  and  even  the 
violence  of  conquest  is  limited  by  the  rights  attaching  to 
the  conquered  as  human  beings.  The  "group"  is  thus 
widened  till  it  includes  all  humanity,  at  which  point  group- 
morality  disappears,  merged  in  universalism.  But  the  rights 
first  recognized  are  those  of  the  person.  To  take  into  ac- 


EVOLUTION    OF    ATTITUDES  857 

count  the  rights  of  the  organized  community  is  a  further 
step,  following  logically  from  the  first,  no  doubt,  but  fol- 
lowing slowly.  Here  too  we  recognize  a  slow  advance  in 
the  civilized  world,  an  advance  which,  if  unimpeded,  would 
finally  overcome  the  "group-morality"  of  nations  in  favor 
of  a  true  internationalism  of  morals  and  law. 

Turning  next  to  the  internal  composition  of  the  com- 
munity, we  saw  that  the  primitive  group  was  relatively 
small  and  homogeneous.  But  as  society  grows  divisions 
come,  and  a  new  form  of  group-morality  arises — distinc- 
tions, of  high  caste  and  low  caste,  bond  and  free,  and  the 
like.  In  engendering,  accentuating  and  maintaining  these 
distinctions,  military  conquest,  economic  inequalities,  re- 
ligious differences,  race  and  color  antipathies,  have  all  played 
their  part,  and  up  to  the  middle  civilization  social  divisions 
probably  tend  to  increase  rather  than  diminish.  Combated 
by  the  teaching  of  the  higher  ethical  and  religious  systems, 
they  have  been  mitigated  and  in  large  measure  overcome 
in  the  modern  world.  Most  tenaciously  maintained  where 
the  "color  line"  is  the  outward  and  too  visible  symbol  of 
deep-seated  differences  of  race,  culture,  character,  and  tradi- 
tions, they  are  countered  even  here  by  the  fundamental 
doctrine  of  the  modern  state  that  equal  protection  and 
equal  opportunity  are  the  birthright  of  its  subjects.  Thus 
though  the  color  line  is  the  last  ditch  of  group-morality, 
here  too  in  the  modern  period,  taken  as  a  whole,  Universal- 
ism  has  made  great  inroads.  With  the  improvement  of 
communication  and  the  growth  of  commerce,  Humanity 
is  rapidly  becoming,  physically  speaking,  a  single  society — 
single  in  the  sense  that  what  affects  one  part  tends  to  affect 
the  whole.  This  unification  intensifies  the  difficulties  ol 
ethics  because  it  brings  into  closer  juxtaposition  races  and 
classes  who  are  not  prepared  by  their  previous  history  to 
live  harmoniously  together.  Hence  it  is  not  surprising  that 
law  and  morals  do  not  show  a  regular,  parallel  advance. 
Nevertheless  the  upshot  of  the  evidence  here  reviewed  is 
that,  ethically  as  well  as  physically,  humanity  is  becoming 


858  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

one — one,  not  by  the  suppression  of  differences  of  the 
mechanical  arrangement  of  lifeless  parts,  but  by  a  widened 
consciousness  of  obligation,  a  more  sensitive  response  to 
the  claims  of  justice,  a  greater  forbearance  towards  differ- 
ences of  type,  a  more  enlightened  conception  of  human 
purposes. 

NOTES 

1  Post,  Afti^  Jttrisp.,  vol.  i,  p.  115,  seq.,  gives  a  number  of  African  peo- 
ples in  .which  the  king  has  absolute  powers  of  life  and  death  over  his 
people,  and  a  number  in  which   all  subjects  are  regarded  as  his  slaves. 
Among  the  Kaffirs  the  king  could  take  any  man's  cattle  to  replace  his  own. 

2  According  to  Waitz,  vol.  11,  p.  398,  slavery  was  for  the  most  part  un- 
known among  Kaffirs,  and  the  case  ot  a  sale  of  children  recorded  by  MofTat 
is  regarded  as  exceptional.  A  less  favorable  view  of  Kaffir  warfare  is  taken 
by  Letourneau  (Esdavage,  p.  53),  who  says  that  they  took  girl  prisoners 
as  concubines  and  youths  as  slaves,  though  their  manners  were  too  savage 
for  regular  slavery.  Letourneau   also  draws  attention   (pp.   54,   55)   to  a 
servile  class,  called  balala,  among  the  Bcchuanas,  who  had  no  possessions, 
had  to  perform  manual  labor  in  return  for  food,  might  be  slam  for  dis- 
obedience, and  supplied  victims  for  human  sacrifice  upon  occasion.  We  have 
here  something  more  nearly  approaching  a  caste  distinction  than  ordinary 
slavery. 

The  Hottentots,  according  to  Letourneau  (ibid.,  pp.  49-51),  gave  no 
quarter  and  held  no  slaves,  but,  according  to  authorities  cited  by  Kohlcr 
(Z.  /.  V.  R.,  1902,  p.  340),  slavery,  though  it  has  now  disappeared,  existed 
lormerly,  and  the  slaves  were  at  the  masters'  mercy  and  often  ill-treated. 

3  For  example,  in  the  little  island  of  Rotuma  slavery  proper  did   not 
exist  and  casual  strangers  were  usually  married  and  adopted  into  a  clan. 
Some  Fijians  and  Mclanesians,  however,  have  been  treated  as  inferiors,  not 
being  adopted  (J.  S.  Gardiner  in  /.  A.  L,  xxvii,  p.  486).  In  parts  of  New 
Guinea  there  is  no  slavery  (Letourneau,  p.  39):  it  is  the  exception  among 
the  Papuas  (ibid.,  p.  35,  and  Kohler,  Z.  /.  V.  R.,  1900,  p.  364). 

4  Letourneau,  op.  cit.,  p.  41.  Broadly,  Letourneau  concludes  Melancsian 
slavery  originated  for  the  sake  of  cannibalism. 

6  Thus  in  the  Marquesas  Islands  there  were  no  slaves,  but  a  despised 
lower  class  who  furnished  victims  for  human  sacrifice  (Letourncau,  p.  183). 

*lbid.,  p.  1 88. 

7  Waitz,  vol.  ii,  p.  125.  In  the  Carolinas  not  only  was  intermarriage  for- 
bidden, but  the  lower  caste  had  to  avoid  contact  with  the  higher  on  pain 
of  death.  Fishery  and  seafaring  were  forbidden  occupations  to  the  lower 
caste. 

8  Sec  Waitz,  Anthropologie,  vol.  i,  p.  154,  seq.;  Ratzel,  History  of  Man- 
kind, i,  p.  446. 

9  Slavery  is  said  to  be  universal  among  the  Aos  (Goddcn,  /.  A.  I.,  xxvi, 
p.  184),  but  the  Luhupas  and  one  or  two  other  tribes  are  said  to  have 
no  slaves  and  to  be  opposed  to  the  institution.  All  the  Nagas  are  head, 

mnters  (Goddeit,  /.  A.  L,  xxvii,  p.  12). 


EVOLUTION    OF    ATTITUDES  859 

10  E.  Q.  Jukis,  Garos,  Gonds,  and  Khonds,  who  use  slaves  for  sacrifices. 
The  Lakka  Kols  have  serfs  instead  of  slaves  (Lctourneau,  pp.  305-306). 

11  Ratzel,  vol.  iii,  p.  346.  According  to  Letourncau  (p.  223),  a  form  ot 
serf  cultivation  is  more  strongly  developed  than  personal  slavery. 

12  E.g.,  according  to  Waitz,  vol.  iii,  p.  158,  the  tribes  of  North  Carolina, 
the  Navajos,  Iroquois  and  Hurons. 

13  Thus  among  the  Oregons  prisoners  were  enslaved  "from  time  immemor 
rial"  and  sometimes  sacrificed  at  the  death  of  a  master  (Alvord,  in  School* 
crajt,  v,  p.  654).  Slavery  is  said  to  have  extended  over  the  whole  northwest 
coast  (Waitz,  hi,  p.  329).  At  Nootka  Sound  prisoners  when  spared  were 
enslaved.  The  Chinooks  mado  slave  razzias  and  held  the  slave  as  a  chattel 
and  object  of  trade  (ibid.,  pp.  334,  338).  The  Apaches  killed  the  male 
captives,  but  sometimes  held  the  women  as  slaves  (Reclus,  p.  128). 

14  Schmidt,  Z.  f.  V.  R.,  1898,  p.  294.  According  to  Lctourneau  (p.  1^3) 
the  Nomads  of  the  Pampas  rarely  give  quarter  to  males,  but  sometimes  takr 
women  as  slave  concubines  and  bring  up  children  to  be  adopted  into  the 
conquering  tribe. 

15  See  Post,  Afril(.  ]nri$pmdcnz,  i,  pp.  88,  92,  96;  Waitz,  ii,  213-214. 

16  Letourncau,  p.  103.  Yet  at  Sokoto  captive  sjaves,  besides  being  fre- 
quently  sold,   are   treated   as   beasts   of   burden   and   chained    for   trivial 
offenses  (Post,  A.  ].,  i,  p.  96;  Letourncau,  L'Esclavage,  p.   102). 

17  For  instance  see  Post,  Afrtk*  Ittrisp.,  pp.  98,  101,  106.  In  case  of  failure 
to  make  due  payments  the  serf  is  often  reduced  to  the  position  of  a  slave, 
e.g.   among   the  Takue,  Marea,   and  Bogos.   Among  the  Beni-amer  the 
penalty  of  failure  is  death  (Post,  A.  /.,  i,  p.  101). 

18  Instances  are  found  at  Khartoum,  among  the  Usagara,  the  Futatoro, 
and  among  the  Kimbunda'  (Post,  A.  /.,  pp.  103,  105,  112). 

10  Letourneau,  p.  88. 

20  Ibid.,  p.  72,  seq. 

21  Waitz,  vol.  i,  pp.  143,  153. 
22//,iW.,  pp.  153-155. 

28  According  to  Letourneau  (p.  200),  the  master  may  punish,  but  no* 
put  the  slaves  to  death.  According  to  Waitz,  op.  tit.,  p.  188,  punishment 
must  be  inflicted  by  a  magistrate.  The  slave  becomes  a  concubine  by 
prolonged  cohabitation,  and  sometimes  a  legitimate  wife  (Letourneau,  loc^ 
cit.).  Among  the  more  savage  Battaks  slaves  are  used  for  human  sacrifice* 
(Letourneau,  p.  203). 

24  Apart  from  some  of  the  instances  already  given,  in  ancient  Mexico* 
where  captive  slaves  were  taken  principally  for  food,  domestic  slaves  were, 
protected.  They  might  not  be  sold  without  their  consent,  nor  chastised  with- 
out previous  warning.  If  ill-treated  they  might  take  refuge  with  the  king, 
and  to  kill  them  was  a  capital  offense.  They  could  hold  property  and  marry, 
and  their  children  were  free  (Letourncau,  pp.  157,  158;  cf.  also  Payne, 
vol.  ii,  p.  485,  note  3). 

26  But  according  to  Hidayah,  the  conversion  to  Islam  on  the  battlefield 
did  not  necessarily  save  a  man  from  slavery  (Hughes,  Dictionary  of  lslamr 

P-  597). 

2«  Ibid.,  p.  597. 

27  If  a  slave-girl  has  a  child  by  her  master  she  becomes  free  at  his  death, 
while  if  the  child  be  acknowledged  by  the  master,  she  becomes  free  there- 
upon (ibid.,  pp.  597,  598). 


860  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

2i  Hughes,  Dictionary  of  Islam,  p.  599. 

29  Though  this  saying  is  attributed  to  Mohammed,  it  is  said  by  Tabir 
that  "we  used  to  sell  the  mothers  of  children  in  the  time  of  the  Prophets  and 
of  Abu  Bekr,  but  Umar  forbade  it  in  'his  time"  (Hughes,  p.  599). 

30  Herod.,  vi,  p.  137;  Busolt,  Handbuch,  p.  n. 

31  Iliad,  vi,  pp.  414-495. 

32  Odyssey,  xxii.,  trsl.  Butcher  and  Lang,  p.  374. 

33  Thucyd.,  i,  p.  141. 

34  Busolt,  p.  12. 

35  This  held  in  other  states  as  well.  See  Isocrates,  Panath.,  181,  in  Busolt, 
p.  12.  In  the  Laws,  ix,  p.  865,  the  slayer  of  his  own  slave  is  to  undergo  a 
(egal  purification  corresponding  to  that  imposed  on  the  unintentional  homi- 
cide of  a  free  man,  and  incur  no  further  penalty.  For  a  case  in  which  the 
killing  of  a  slave  might  be  treated  as  murder,  cf.  ibid.,  p.  872. 

36  Busolt,  pp.  12-14,  15,  68,  119. 

37  Girard,  Manuel,  pp.  89,  91. 

38  See  Girard,  p.  92. 
39 /&</.,  p.  88,  Note  i. 

40  Assez  timidemcnt,  Qirard,  p.  94. 

41  Girard,  p.  94.  • 
**lbid.,  p.  94- 

43 /&</.,  p.  95. 

44  Ingram,  History  of  Slavery,  pp.  60-64,  etc« 

45  Ibid.,  pp.  78,  79,  etc. 

46  The  Colonus  could  also  contract  a  valid  marriage,  but  he  had  to 
marry  within  the  domain  unless  he  purchased  a  dispensation.  The  right  of 
punishment  was  conceded  to  the  master  for  certain  specified  faults  (Le- 
Vourncau,  L'Esclavagc,  pp.  422,  423). 

47  Ingram,  History  of  Slavery,  p.  80;  cf.  Viollet,  Histoire  du  Detroit 
Civil  Fran  fats,  p.  312.  Valentinian  prohibited  their  sale  apart  from  the 
land. 

48  Schroder,  Lchrbuch,  p.  46. 

49  Ibid.,  p.  346.  The  price  was,  however,  becoming  a  fixed  tariff,  and  so 
gradually  approximating  to  a  true  wergild  (ibid.,  p.  218). 

50  Ibid.,  pp.  50,  51,  221-223.  In  the  latter  period  their  position  still  varied 
very  greatly  as  between  different  peoples. 

51  Vinogradoff,  Villeinage  in  England,  p.  131. 

52  This  is  sometimes  spoken  of  as  the  latest  record,  but  Prof.  Vinogradoff 
informs  me  that  this  is  not  absolutely  correct. 

68 1.,  P.  4M. 

54  In  the  effort  to  deal  with  vagabondage  the  law  has  at  different  times 
fome  perilously  near  to  rcintroducing  slavery.  A  statute  of  Edward  VI  or- 
dained that  all  idle  vagabonds  should  be  made  slaves,  fed  on  bread  and 
water  and  refuse  meat,  wear  iron  rings,  and  be  compelled  by  beating, 
chains,  etc.,  to  do  the  work  assigned  to  them.  This  was  repealed  in  two 
years.  It  is  now  laid  down  that  slaves  acquire  freedom  by  landing  in  Eng- 
land, but  this  does  not  affect  the  right  a  master  may  have  acquired  to  a 
man's  perpetual  service,  and  "the  infamous  and  unchristian  practice  of 
withholding  baptism  from  negro  servants,  lest  they  should  thereby  gain  their 
liberty,  was  totally  without  foundation."  The  Law  of  England  will  not 
dissolve  a  civil  obligation  between  master  and  servant  on  account  of  the 


EVOLUTION    OF    ATTITUDES  86l 

alteration  of  faith  in  either  of  the  parties,  "but  the  slave  is  entitled  to  the 
same  liberty  in  England  before  as  after  baptism;  and,  whatever  service  the 
heathen  negro  owed  to  his  English  master,  the  same  is  bound  to  render 
when  a  Christian"  (Blackstonc,  i,  pp.  412,  413). 

55  Ingram,  op.  cit.,  p.  93. 

**lbid.,  pp.  119-129. 

5T  So  at  Narbonne  and  in  Provence  in  the  thirteenth  century,  and  in 
Roussillon  down  to  its  annexation  by  France.  A  Saracen  was  publicly  sold 
in  1296  (Viollet,  pp.  329,  330). 

58Viollct,  p.  330. 

89  Ingram,  pp.  142,  143. 

60  "Which  advice,"  says  Las  Casas  himself,  "after  he  had  apprehended 
the  nature  of  the  thing,  he  would  not  have  given  for  all  he  had  in  the 
world"  (Ingram,  p.  144). 

01  E.g.  The  Bull  of  Urban  VIII,  1537,  and  of  Benedict  XIV,  1741  (Viollet, 

t>-  330- 

62  Viollet,  p.  332.  The  position-  of  slaves  in  France  and  her  colonies  WAS 
minutely  regulated  by  the  Code  Noir  of  Louis  XIV,  1685. 

68  The  trade  had  been  abolished  by  Denmark  in  1792. 

64  Ingram,  pp.  154-182. 

65  Not  even  by  the  Congo  State. 


BIOGRAPHIES 


BIOGRAPHIES 

Johann  ]a\ob  Bachofen,  1815-1887,  was  professor  of  Roman 
Law  at  Basel.  He  was  one  of  the  earliest  European  writers 
on  anthropological  subjects.  Das  Mutterrecht,  1861,  is  his 
best  work,  and  it  is  to  be  regretted  that  there  exists  no 
English  translation.  Other  publications,  also  untranslated, 
are  Versuch  uber  die  Grdbersymbolil^  der  Alten,  1859,  and 
Antiquarische  Brief e,  1881-1886. 

Ruth  Benedict  was  born  in  1887.  She  is  the  author  of  many 
monographs  on  Folklore  and  has  done  field  work  among 
several  Indian  tribes,  in  particular  the  Pueblos  and  the 
Pimas.  She  has  been  the  editor  of  the  Journal  of  American 
Folklore  and  at  the  present  time  is  associated  with  the 
Anthropology  Department  of  Columbia  University. 

Franz  Boas,  founder  of  the  American  school  of  anthropology, 
was  born  in  Westphalia,  1858.  He  studied  at  Heidelberg, 
Bonn,  and  Kiel.  He  was  one  of  the  first  anthropologists 
to  realize  the  necessity  for  direct  study  of  primitive  people. 
His  investigations  have  carried  him  into  all  parts  of  North 
America  and  Mexico  and  his  monographs  on  phases  of 
Indian  life  are  of  inestimable  value.  Besides  these,  and 
contributions  to  various  scientific  journals,  his  published 
works  are,  The  Growth  of  Children,  Changes  in  Form 
of  Body  of  Descendants  of  Immigrants,  The  Mind  of 
Primitive  Man,  Primitive  Art,  and  Anthropology  and  Mod- 
ern Life. 

Pierre  Marcelin  Boule,  French  scientist,  was  born  in  1861  and 
was  educated  at  Toulouse.  His  interests  are  geology  and 
palaeontology.  He  has  been  president  of  the  French  Gea 
logical  Society  and  of  the  French  Archaeological  Institute, 
and  director  of  the  Institute  of  Human  Palaeontology.  His 
best  known  works  are  Les  grottes  de  Grimaldi  and  Let 
homines  fossiles. 

Robert  Briffault,  philosopher  and  scientist,  was  born  in  London 
in  1876  and  graduated  in  medicine  from  the  University  of 
London.  He  has  studied  in  New  Zealand  and  at  uni* 
865 


£66  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

vcrsitics  in  Italy  and  Germany,  and  has  done  field  work  in 
Melanesia.  He  is  the  author  of  The  Making  of  Humanity, 
Psyche's  Lamp,  and  his  remarkable  contribution  to  an- 
thropology, The  Mothers.  His  most  recent  book  deals  with 
modern  morality,  and  will  appear  in  the  spring  of  1931. 

Huntingdon  Cairns  was  born  in  Baltimore  in  1904.  He  is  a 
member  of  the  Baltimore  bar  and  practices  law,  in  addition 
to  contributing  articles  on  jurisprudence  to  various  jour- 
nals. He  is  at  work  at  present  on  a  life  of  Henry  Adams. 

Edward  Carpenter,  poet  and  socialist,  was  born  in  Brighton, 
1844.  After  relinquishing  orders  and  fellowship  at  Cam- 
bridge he  lectured  on  science  and  music  until  in  1883  he 
settled  on  a  small  farm  where  he  engaged  in  literary  work 
and  gardening.  In  1884  he  came  to  the  United  States  to 
meet  Walt  Whitman,  later  recording  his  experiences  in 
Days  with  Walt  Whitman.  His  most  popular  books  are: 
Towards  Democracy,  Civilisation,  Its  Cause  and  Cure, 
Lome's  Coming  of  Age,  The  Intermediate  Sex,  and  Pagan 
and  Christian  Creeds.  He  died  June  28,  1929. 

\oscph  Dtchelette,  born  in  Roanne,  France,  1862,  was  by  pro- 
fession a  capitalist.  His  interest  in  archaeology  gradually 
absorbed  him,  and  from  an  amateur,  he  became  the  leading 
authority  in  his  field.  His  Manuel  d'archtologie,  prehis- 
torique,  celtique  et  gallo-romaine ,  1908-1914,  is  the  standard 
work  of  French  archaeology.  He  was  killed  in  the  early 
days  of  the  war,  October  4,  1914. 

Sir  James  G.  Frazer  was  born  in  Glasgow,  1854.  His  education 
was  received  at  Cambridge.  He  is  the  recipient  of  hon- 
orary degrees  from  the  Universities  of  Cambridge,  Dur- 
ham, Manchester,  Paris,  and  Strasbourg.  His  literary  and 
anthropological  works  are  numerous  and  well-known.  Most 
significant  perhaps  are  The  Golden  Bough,  Totemism  and 
Exogamy,  Foll^Lore  in  the  Old  Testament,  and  The  Wor- 
ship of  Nature. 

Sigmund  Freud  was  born  in  Moravia,  1856.  He  was  educated 
in  Vienna  and  Paris.  Since  1902  he  has  been  professor  of 
neurology  at  Vienna  University.  As  founder  of  the  school 
of  psycho-analysis,  he  is  universally  known.  He  is  director 
of  the  International  Journal  of  Psycho-Analysis.  His  most 
widely-read  works  are  The  History  of  Psycho- Analysis, 


BIOGRAPHIES  867 

1910;  Totem  and  Taboo,  1903;  General  Introduction  to 
Psycho- Analysis,  1920;  The  Problem  of  Lay- Analyses,  1927; 
Psychopathology  of  Everyday  Life,  1914;  The  Interpretation 
of  Dreams.  His  latest  book  is  Civilization  and  its  Discon 
tents,  1930. 

Alexander  Goldenweiser  is  a  native  of  Russia,  where  he  wai 
born  in  1880.  His  education  was  received  at  the  Kiev 
Gymnasium,  Harvard  University,  and  at  Columbia  Uni- 
versity. From  1910  to  1919  he  lectured  at  Columbia;  from 
1919  to  1926  he  was  associated  with  the  New  School  for 
Social  Research,  and  is  now  Professor  of  Thought  and 
Culture  at  the  University  of  Oregon.  He  is  the  author  of 
Totemism,  an  Analytical  Study,  Early  Civilization,  and  has 
contributed  widely  to  scientific  and  popular  journals  on 
social  theory,  psycho-analysis,  education  and  modern  social 
problems. 

Robert  Fritz  Graebner,  Ph.D.,  was  born  in  1877  *n  Berlin.  He 
is  Director  of  the  Rautenstrauch-Joest  Museum  at  Cologne, 
and  Privat-Dozent  in  Ethnology  at  the  University  of  Bonn. 
He  is  the  author  of  Neu-Mectycnburg;  Die  Kuste  von 
Urnudda  bis  Kap  St.  Georg,  1907;  and  has  been  a  con- 
tributor to  Globus;  Zeitschrift  fur  Ethnologic;  Anthropos; 
Petermanns  Mittheilungen. 

Edwin  Sidney  Hartland  was  born  in  England  in  1848.  He  wa$ 
editor  of  Folfyoi  e  and  author  of  several  books  on  folk  tales, 
He  is  best  known  for  the  following:  The  Science  of  Fait) 
Tales,  1890;  English  Fairy  and  Other  Fol^-Tales,  1890; 
The  Legend  of  Perseus,  1894-1896;  and  Primitive  Paternity. 

Leonard  Trelawney  Hobhouse,  professor  of  sociology  at  Uni- 
versity of  London  since  1907,  was  born  in  1864.  He  was 
on  the  editorial  staff  of  the  Manchester  Guardian,  1897- 
1902  and  of  the  Tribune,  1906-1907.  His  published  works 
are:  The  Labour  Movement,  1893;  The  Theory  of  Knowl- 
edge, 1896;  Mind  in  Evolution,  1901;  Democracy  and 
Reaction,  1904;  Morals  in  Evolution,  1906;  Development 
and  Purpose,  1913. 

Alfred  L.  Kroeber  was  born  in  Hoboken,  N.  J.,  1876.  His  edu- 
cation  was  received  at  Columbia  University.  Since  1900  he 
has  engaged  in  frequent  anthropological  expeditions  to 
South  America,  Mexico,  and  California,  the  results  of  which 


B68  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

arc  recorded  in  his  studies:  The  Youths  Language,  Zuni 
Kin  and  Clan,  The  Arapaho,  and  Handbook  of  the  Indians 
of  California.  His  Anthropology  is  one  of  the  finest  ex- 
positions of  this  comparatively  recent  science.  At  present, 
he  is  Professor  of  Anthropology  at  the  University  of  Cali- 
fornia. 

Lucien  Uvy-Bruhl,  philosopher  and  ethnologist,  was  born  in 
Paris  in  1857.  Since  1899  he  has  been  professor  of  philoso- 
phy at  the  Sorbonne.  He  is  best  known  to  American 
audiences  for  his  work  on  primitive  mentality.  His  chief 
works  are  Les  Fonctions  mentales  dans  les  socittts  in* 
ferieures,  1910;  La  mentalite  primitive,  1922;  and  L'Ame 
primitive,  1927. 

Robert  Heinrich  Lowie  was  born  in  Vienna,  1883.  At  the  age 
of  eight,  he  was  brought  to  America,  where  he  studied  later 
at  the  College  of  the  City  of  New  York  and  at  Columbia 
University.  He  was  Associate  Curator  of  Anthropology  at 
the  American  Museum  of  Natural  History,  but  since  1921 
has  been  associated  with  the  University  of  California.  He 
has  done  extensive  field  work  among  the  American  Indians. 
His  most  important  publications  are:  Culture  and  Ethnol- 
ogy, 1917;  Myths  and  Traditions  of  the  Crow  Indians, 
1918;  Primitive  Society,  1920;  Primitive  Religion,  1924; 
The  Origin  of  the  State,  and  Are  We  Civilized? 

$ronislaw  MalinowsJ(i,  professor  of  anthropology  in  the  Uni- 
versity of  London,  is  the  son  of  Polish  parents.  He  was 
educated  at  the  Polish  University  of  Cracow.  The  results 
of  his  field  work  in  New  Guinea  and  Melanesia  are  re- 
corded in  his  contributions  to  numerous  scientific  publica- 
tions and  notably  in  his  works:  The  Family  Among  the 
Australian  Aborigines,  1913;  Argonauts  of  the  Western 
Pacific,  1922;  Crime  and  Custom  in  Savage  Society,  1926; 
The  Father  in  Primitive  Psychology,  1927;  Sex  and  Rf- 
pression  in  Savage  Society,  1927,  and  The  Sexual  Life  of 
Savages,  1929. 

Itobert  Ranulph  Marett  was  born  in  the  island  of  Jersey  in 
1866.  Since  1891  he  has  been  lecturer  in  philosophy  at  Ox- 
ford. Besides  various  papers  in  philosophic  and  scientific 
periodicals,  he  is  the  author  of  several  books.  His  best 


BIOGRAPHIES  869 

known  works  are:  The  Threshold  of  Religion,  1909; 
Anthropology,  1912;  and  Psychology  and  Folklore,  1930. 

James  Howard  McGregor  was  born  in  Bellairc,  Ohio,  in  1872. 
A  graduate  of  Columbia,  he  has  been  connected  with  the 
zoological  staff  at  Columbia  since  1897.  He  has  contributed 
numerous  papers  on  zoological  topics  to  the  scientific  maga- 
zines. Reptilian  and  primate  paleontology  have  been  his 
specialties.  He  has  also  done  a  great  deal  of  study  on  the 
fossil  races  of  man.  - 

Margaret  Mead  was  born  in  Philadelphia  in  1901.  She  studied 
anthropology  at  Columbia  University  and  has  done  field 
work  in  Samoa  and  in  the  Admiralty  Islands.  Her  Com- 
ing of  Age  in  Samoa  is  a  study  of  the  adolescent  girl  in 
the  primitive  community.  Miss  Mead  is  at  present  on  the 
staff  of  the  American  Museum  of  Natural  History.  Her 
latest  book  is  Growing  Up  in  New  Guinea. 

Lewis  Henry  Morgan,  "father  of  American  anthropology,"  was 
born  in  Aurora,  New  York,  1818.  He  was  a  lawyer  by 
profession  and  his  interest  in  anthropology  was  at  first 
only  a  hobby.  Later,  in  order  to  further  his  researches 
among  American  Indians,  he  lived  among  them,  recording 
his  discoveries  in  pamphlets  issued  by  the  Smithsonian 
Institution.  His  books,  Systems  of  Consanguinity  and  Af- 
finity of  the  Human  Family,  1869,  and  Ancient  Society  > 
1877,  were  of  revolutionary  importance  to  nineteenth  cen- 
tury thought.  Morgan  died  in  1881. 

William  James  Perry  has  been  reader  in  Cultural  Anthropology 
at  the  University  of  London,  and  lecturer  in  the  History  of 
Religions  at  Oxford  and  at  the  University  of  Manchester. 
His  chief  works  are:  The  Children  of  the  Sun,  1923; 
Megalithic  Culture  of  Indonesia,  1918;  The  Origin  of 
Magic  and  Religion,  1923;  and  The  Growth  of  Civiliza- 
tion, 1924. 

Paul  Radin,  born  in  Poland  in  1883,  was  brought  to  America 
in  infancy.  He  was  educated  at  the  College  of  the  City  of 
New  York,  at  Columbia  University  and  at  the  universities 
of  Berlin  and  Munich.  His  interest  is  absorbed  by  the 
American  Indian.  Besides  various  articles:  in  scientific  maga* 
zincs,  he  is  the  author  of  numerous  studies  of  the  American 
Indian.  Chief  among  these  are:  Literary  Aspects  of  North 


870  THE    MAKING    OF 

American  Mythology,  1915;  Primitive  Man  as  Philosopher, 
1921;  and  The  Story  of  the  American  Indian,  1927. 

William  Halse  Rivers,  one  of  England's  most  distinguished  an- 
thropologists, was  born  in  1864.  He  was  educated  at  Ton- 
bridge  and  at  St.  Bartholomew's  Hospital.  At  one  time  he 
was  lecturer  at  the  Royal  College  of  Physicians.  His  best 
known  work  is  his  History  of  Melanesian  Society.  His  other 
publications  are:  Kinship  and  Social  Organization,  The 
Todas,  Influence  of  Alcohol  and  other  Drugs  on  Fatigue, 
and  Instinct  and  the  Unconscious.  During  his  later  years 
he  Was  strongly  influenced  by  the  theories  of  Freud.  He 
died  in  1922. 

Geza  R6heim  is  the  author  of  a  number  of  books  and  papers  on 
anthropology,  ethnology,  and  psycho-analysis — some  of 
these  have  originally  appeared  in  Hungarian,  although 
most  of  them  originally  appeared  in  German.  He  is  the 
first  psycho-analyst  to  do  field  work  in  anthropology.  He  is 
the  author  of  Social  Anthropology,  1926;  and  Animism, 
Magic,  and  the  Divine  King,  1930.  His  papers  have  ap- 
peared in  numerous  psycho-analytical  and  anthropological 
journals. 

Edward  Sapir  was  born  in  Pomerania,  1884,  but  was  brought 
to  America  when  five  years  old.  His  education  was  re- 
ceived at  Columbia  University.  He  has  taught  at  the  Uni- 
versity of  California,  the  University  of  Pennsylvania,  and 
is  now  professor  of  anthropology  and  general  linguistics 
at  the  University  of  Chicago.  Besides  his  studies  of  Ameri- 
can Indians,  and  his  remarkable  monographic  studies  in 
linguistics,  American  and  comparative,  he  is  the  author  of 
Language,  an  Introduction  to  the  Study  of  Speech,  1921. 

(r.  Elliot  Smith  is  a  native  of  New  South  Wales,  where  he  was 
born  in  1871.  He  was  educated  at  the  University  of  Sydney 
and  at  Cambridge.  For  several  years  he  was  professor  of 
anatomy  at  the  University  of  Manchester.  He  was  the 
President  of  the  Anatomical  Society  of  Great  Britain  and 
Ireland,  and  in  1912  was  elected  President  of  the  Anthro- 
pological Section  of  the  British  Association.  He  has  lectured 
on  scientific  subjects  in  the  universities  of  England  and 
Scotland,  and  was  one  time  Herter  Lecturer  at  New  York 
University.  In  1924  he  published  the  Evolution  of  Man. 


BIOGRAPHIES  87! 

His  chief  contribution  to  the  study  of  anthropology  is  con- 
cerned with  the  history  of  Egypt  and  early  history  of 
civilization.  He  is  the  chief  exponent  of  modern  "dif- 
fusionism." 

William  Johnson  Sollas  was  born  in  Birmingham,  England,  in 
1849.  His  education  was  acquired  at  the  Royal  School  of 
Mines,  London,  and  at  St.  John's  College,  Cambridge.  He 
has  written  extensively  on  geological  subjects.  His  besf 
known  works  are:  The  Age  of  the  Earth,  1905,  and  An* 
dent  Hunters,  1911.  He  is  at  present  associated  with  Ox* 
ford  University. 

Sir  Walter  Baldwin  Spencer  was  born  in  Lancashire  in  1860, 
After  finishing  his  education  at  Oxford,  he  went  to  Aus- 
tralia where  he  became  professor  of  biology  at  the  Uni- 
versity of  Melbourne.  He  is  now  Emeritus  Professor.  His 
greatest  contributions  to  knowledge  are  his  scientific  studies 
of  primitive  people,  notably  The  Native  Tribes  of  Central 
Australia  and  the  Northern  Tribes  of  Central  Australia, 
Both  these  works  were  written  in  collaboration  with  F.  }, 
Gillen. 

William  Graham  Sumner  was  born  in  Paterson,  New  Jersey, 
1840.  After  graduation  from  Yale,  he  studied  in  Geneva 
and  at  the  University  at  Gottingen.  From  1872  to  1909  htf 
was  professor  of  political  and  social  science  at  Yale.  His 
well-known  Folkways  is  a  classic.  His  death  occurred  in 
1910. 

Richard  Thurnwald  was  born  in  Vienna  in  1869.  He  was 
professor  of  ethnology  and  sociology  at  the  University  of 
Berlin.  He  traveled  in  the  South  Seas  and  New  Guinea. 
During  the  war  he  was  in  Berkeley,  California.  From  1919 
to  1923  he  was  instructor  in  ethnology  and  psychology  of 
races  at  Halle.  He  has  written  extensively  about  the  peo- 
ples of  the  South  Seas,  and  is  also  the  author  of  Psychol- 
ogy of  Primitive  Peoples  and  Psychology  of  Totemism, 
in  addition  to  many  ethnological  monographs. 

Sir  Edward  Burnett  Tylor  was  born  in  London,  1832.  He  trav* 
eled  in  the  United  States  and  Mexico,  and  wrote  about 
Mexico  in  his  first  work,  Anahuac;  or  Mexico  and  the 
Mexicans,  Ancient  and  Modern.  In  1865  his  reputation 
as  a  scientist  was  made  on  the  publication  of  Researches 


872  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

into  the  Early  History  of  Mankind.  A  few  years  later  his 
Primitive  Culture  appeared.  It  was  for  years  the  standard 
treatise  on  anthropology.  Tylor  was  lecturer  in  anthropol- 
ogy at  Oxford  and  at  Aberdeen  University.  In  1896,  he 
became  the  first  professor  of  anthropology  at  Oxford.  He 
died  in  1917. 

Wilson  Dallam  Wallis  was  born  in  Maryland  in  1886.  After 
graduation  from  Dickinson  College,  he  studied  as  a  Rhodes 
Scholar  at  Oxford.  He  has  been  instructor  in  anthropology 
at  the  University  of  Pennsylvania  and  at  the  University  of 
California,  and  is  now  Professor  of  Anthropology  at  the 
University  of  Minnesota.  He  is  author  of  An  Introduction 
to  Anthropology. 

Edward  Alexander  Westermarc\  was  born  in  Helsingfors, 
1862.  He  was  graduated  from  the  University  of  Helsing- 
fors, where  his  dissertation  was  his  well-known  Origin  of 
Human  Marriage,  1889.  The  History  of  Human  Marriage 
appeared  in  1891,  and  the  Origin  and  Development  of 
the  Moral  Ideas  in  1906.  He  is  the  author  of  numerous  an- 
thropological studies,  dealing  particularly  with  Morocco, 
where  he  has  engaged  in  field  work.  Since  1907  he  has 
been  professor  of  sociology  at  the  University  of  London. 

Clar\  Wisder  was  born  in  Indiana,  1870.  He  studied  at  the 
University  of  Indiana  and  at  Columbia  University.  He  is 
Curator  of  Anthropology  in  the  American  Museum  of 
Natural  History  and  consulting  anthropologist  of  the 
Bishop  Museum  in  Honolulu.  Since  1924,  he  has  been  pro- 
fessor of  anthropology  at  Yale.  His  published  works  are: 
North  American  Indians  of  the  Plains,  1912;  The  American 
Indian,  1917;  Man  and  Culture,  1922,  and  other  anthropo- 
logical monographs. 


BIBLIOGRAPHY 


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ALLEN,  Grant,  The  Evolution  of  the  Idea  of  God,  1897.  * 

ALLIER,  Raoul,  The  Mind  of  the  Savage.  ^ 

ARMITAGE,  F.  P.,  Diet  and  Race,  1922.  a^ 

ASTLEY,  H.  J.  D.,  Biblical  Anthropology,  1929.  ^ 

AULT,  Harman,  Life  in  Ancient  Britain,  1920.  * 

AVEBURY,  John  Lubbock,  Lord,  The  Origin  of  Civilization  and 

the  Primitive  Condition  of  Man;  Mental  and  Social  Condi* 

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BACHOFEN,  J.  J.,  Das  Mutterrecht. 

BALFOUR,  Henry,  The  Evolution  of  Decorative  Art,  1893. 

BASTIAN,  Adolph,  Der  Mensch  in  der  Geschichte,  1860. 

BAUDIN,  P.,  Fetishism,  1850. 

BOAS,  Franz,  Anthropology  and  Modern  Life,  1928;  Primitives 
Art,  1927;  Handbook  of  American  Indian  Languages,  1910.1, 

BOULE,  Marcelin,  Fossil  Men,  Elements  of  Human  Pelccontol- 
ogy,  1923;  Les  Grottes  de  Grimaldi.  ^~~ 

BOYLE,  Mary  E.,  Man  Before  History,  1924. 

BRIFFAULT,  Robert,  The  Mothers,  1927;  The  Maty/ig  of  Hu- 
manity, 1919;  Psyche's  Lamp,  1921. 

BURKITT,  M.  C.,  Our  Early  Ancestors,  1926;  Prehistory,  1921. 

BUXTON,  L.  H.  Dudley,  Primitive  Labour,  1924. 

CALVERTON,  V.  F.,  The  Bankruptcy  of  Marriage,  1927.-^ 
CARRIER,  Lyman,  The  Beginnings  of  Art  Culture  in  America, 

1923. 

CHAPIN,  F.  Stuart,  Social  Evolution,  1919. 
CLELAND,  Herdman  Fitzgerald,  Our  Prehistoric  Ancestors,  1928. 
CODRINGTON,  Robert  H.,  The  Melanesians,  1891. 
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876  THE    MAKING    OF    MAN 

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DBMORGAN,  Jacques,  Prehistoric  Man,  A  General  Outline  of 

Prehistory,  1925. 

DENISON,  J.  H.,  Emotion  as  the  Basis  of  Civilization,  1928. 
DIXON,  Roland  B.,  The  Racial  History  of  Mankind,  1922;  The 

Building  of  Cultures,  1928. 
DUCKWORTH,  W.  H.,  Prehistoric  Man,  1912;  Morphology  and 

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DURKHEIM,  Emile,  The  Elementary  Forms  of  the  Religious  Life. 

ELLIOT,  G.  F.  Scott,  Prehistoric  Man  and  History,  1925. 
ENGELS,  F.,  The  Evolution  of  the  Family. 

FEATHERMAN,  A.,  Social  History  of  the  Races  of  Mankind,  7 
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FEBVRE,  Lucien,  A  Geographical  Introduction  to  History,  1925. 

FERRI,  Enrico,  Criminal  Sociology,  1895. 

FINOT,  J.,  Race  Prejudice,  1906. 

FLEURE,  Herbert  J.,  The  Peoples  of  Europe,  1922. 

FRAZER,  James  G.,  Folklore  in  the  Old  Testament,  1919;  Psy- 
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FREUD,  Sigmund,  Totem  and  Taboo,  The  Future  of  an  Illu- 
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FRICHE,  V.,  Art  and  Social  Life,  Moscow,  1929. 

FROBENIUS,  Leo,  Der  Ur sprung  der  Afrifonischen  Kulturen, 
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GINSBURG,  M.,  The  Psychology  of  Society,  1922. 

GOMME,  George  Laurence,  Mythology  as  a  Historical  Science, 

1908. 

GRAEBNER,  F.,  Methods  of  Ethnology. 
GROSSE,  Ernst,  The  Beginnings  of  Art,  1897. 

HAODON,  Alfred  C.,  Evolution  in  Art,  1897;  The  Races  of 
Manr  1925;  The  Wanderings  of  People,  1912. 

HALL,  S.  S.,  Adolescence;  its  Psychology  and  its  Relation  to 
Physiology,  Anthropology,  Sociology,  Sex,  Crime,  Religion, 
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HARTLAND,  E.  Sidney,  The  Evolution  of  Kingship,  An  African 

Study,    1922;    Primitive   Society,    1921;    Mythology  and 

Folktales. 

HARTLEY,  C.  Gascoigne,  The  Age  of  Mother  Power,  1914. 
HEARD,  Gerald,  The  Ascent  of  Humanity,  1929. 
HENDERSON,  Keith,  Prehistoric  Man,  1927. 
HERSKOVITZ,  M.,  The  American  Negro,  1928. 
HOBHOUSE,  Leonard  T.,  WHEELER,  and  GINSBURG,  The  Material 

Culture  and  Social  Institutions  of  Primitive  Peoples,  1914. 
HOBHOUSE,  L.  T.,  Morals  in  Evolution,  2  vols.,  1906. 
HRDLICKA,  Alex  F.,  Skeletal  Remains  of  Man,  1912. 
HUNTINGTON,  Ellsworth,  Civilization  and  Climate,  1915;  The 

Pulse  of  Asia,  1907. 

JUDD,  Charles  H.,  Psychology  of  Social  Institutions,  1926. 

KAUTSKY,  Karl,  Are  the  Jews  a  Race?  1926. 

KEANE,  August  H.,  Ethnology,  1909. 

KEITH,  Arthur,  Man:  A  History  of  the  Human  Body,  1913; 

Ancient  Types  of  Man,  1911;  Antiquity  of  Man,  1925. 
KLAATSCH,  Hermann,  Evolution  and  Progress  of  Mankind,  1923, 
KROEBER,  A.  L.,  Anthropology,  1923. 
KROPOTKIN,   P.    (Prince),   Ethics,   Origin   and  Development, 

1924;  Mutual  Aid,  1902. 

LANG,  Andrew,  Magic  and  Religion,  1901;  The  Making  of 

Religion,  1898;  Social  Origins,  1903. 
LECKY,  W.  E.  H.,  History  of  European  Morals,  1911. 
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Ethnology,  1917;  Primitive  Religion,  1924. 
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MACCURDY,  George  Grant,  Human  Origins,  1924. 
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