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Read Ebook: Elements of Folk Psychology Outline of a Psychological History of the Development of Mankind by Wundt Wilhelm Max Schaub Edward L Edward Leroy Translator

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TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE

PREFACE

INTRODUCTION History and task of folk psychology--Its relation to ethnology--Analytic and synthetic methods of exposition--Folk psychology as a psychological history of the development of mankind--Division into four main periods.

INDEX

ELEMENTS OF FOLK PSYCHOLOGY

INTRODUCTION

When this point of view is taken, the question, of course, arises whether the problem thus assigned to folk psychology is not already being solved by ethnology, the science of peoples, or whether it ought not to be so solved. But it must be borne in mind that the greatly enlarged scope of modern ethnology, together with the increased number and the deepened character of its problems, necessarily precludes such a psychological investigation as falls to the task of folk psychology. I may here be allowed to refer to one who, perhaps more than any other recent geographer, has called attention to this extension of ethnological problems--Friedrich Ratzel. In his treatise on anthropography and in a number of scattered essays on the cultural creations of peoples, Ratzel has shown that ethnology must not only account for the characteristics and the habitats of peoples, but must also investigate how peoples originated and how they attained their present physical and mental status. Ethnology is the science of the origin of peoples, of their characteristics, and of their distribution over the earth. In this set of problems, psychological traits receive a relatively subordinate place. Apparently insignificant art products and their modifications may be of high importance in the determination of former migrations, fusions, or transferences. It is in this way that ethnology has been of valuable service to history, particularly in connection with prehistoric man. The central problem of ethnology concerns not only the present condition of peoples, but the way in which they originated, changed, and became differentiated. Folk psychology must be based on the results of ethnology; its own psychological interest, however, inclines it to the problem of mental development. Though of diverse origins, peoples may nevertheless belong to the same group as regards the mental level to which they have attained. Conversely, peoples who are ethnologically related may, psychologically speaking, represent very different stages of mental culture. The ethnologist, for example, regards the Magyars and the Ostiaks of Obi as peoples of like origin. Psychologically, they belong to different groups: the one is a cultural people, the other is still relatively primitive. To the folk psychologist, however, 'primitive' always means the psychologically primitive--not that which the ethnologist regards as original from the point of view of the genealogy of peoples. Thus, folk psychology draws upon ethnology, while the latter, in turn, must invoke the aid of the former in investigating mental characteristics. The problems of the two sciences, however, are fundamentally different.

In fulfilling its task, folk psychology may pursue different methods. The course that first suggests itself is to single out one important phenomenon of community life after another, and to trace its development after the usual pattern of general psychology in its analysis of individual consciousness. For example, an attempt is made to trace the psychological development of language by the aid of the facts of linguistic history. This psychology of language is then followed by a study of the development of art, from its beginnings among primitive races down to its early manifestations among cultural peoples, at which point its description is taken up by the history of art. Myth and religion are similarly investigated as regards the development of their characteristics, their reciprocal relations, etc. This is a method which considers in longitudinal sections, as it were, the total course of the development described by folk psychology. For a somewhat intensive analysis this is the most direct mode of procedure. But it has the objection of severing mental development into a number of separate phases, whereas in reality these are in constant interrelation. Indeed, the various mental expressions, particularly in their earlier stages, are so intertwined that they are scarcely separable from one another. Language is influenced by myth, art is a factor in myth development, and customs and usages are everywhere sustained by mythological conceptions.

PRIMITIVE MAN

But this antithesis between the concepts of culture and of nature, as objectively considered, is not the only factor here operative; even more influential is the contrast between the subjective moods aroused by the actual world and by the realm disclosed by imagination or reason. Hence it is that the repelling picture of primitive man is modified as soon as the mood changes. To an age that is satiated with culture and feels the traditional forms of life to be a burdensome constraint, the state of nature becomes an ideal once realized in a bygone world. In contrast to the wild creature of Thomas Hobbes and his contemporaries, we have the natural man of Jean Jacques Rousseau. The state of nature is a state of peace, where men, united in love, lead a life that is unfettered and free from want.

Alongside of these constructions of the character of natural man, however, there early appeared a different method of investigation, whose aim it was to adhere more closely to empirical facts. Why should we not regard those of our human institutions which still appear to be a direct result of natural conditions as having existed in the earliest period of our race? Marriage and the family, for example, are among such permanent cultural institutions, the one as the natural union of the sexes, the other as its necessary result. If marriage and family existed from the beginning, then all culture has grown out of the extension of these primitive associations. The family first developed into the patriarchal joint family; from this the village community arose, and then, through the union of several village communities, the State. The theory of a natural development of society from the family was first elaborated by Aristotle, but it goes back in its fundamental idea to legend and myth. Peoples frequently trace their origin to an original pair of ancestors. From a single marriage union is derived the single tribe, and then, through a further extension of this idea, the whole of mankind. The legend of an original ancestral pair, however, is not to be found beyond the limits of the monogamous family. Thus, it is apparently a projection of monogamous marriage into the past, into the beginnings of a race, a tribe, or of mankind. Wherever, therefore, monogamous marriage is not firmly established, legend accounts for the origin of men and peoples in various other ways. It thinks of them as coming forth from stones, from the earth, or from caverns; it regards animals as their ancestors, etc. Even the Greek legend of Deukalion and Pyrrha contains a survival of such an earlier view, combined with the legend of an original ancestral pair. Deukalion and Pyrrha throw stones behind them, from which there springs a new race of men.

The thought of an original family, thus, represents simply a projection of the present-day family into an inaccessible past. Clearly, therefore, it is to be regarded as only an hypothesis or, rather, a fiction. Without the support which it received from the Biblical legend, it could scarcely have maintained itself almost down to the present, as it did in the patriarchal theory of the original state of man to which it gave rise. The Aristotelian theory of the gradual origin of more comprehensive organizations, terminating in the State, is no less a fiction; the social communities existing side by side in the period of Greece were arbitrarily represented as having emerged successively in the course of history. Quite naturally, therefore, this philosophical hypothesis, in common with the corresponding legend of the original family, presupposes primitive man to have possessed the same characteristics as the man of to-day. Thus, it gives no answer at all to the question concerning the nature of this primitive man.

Considerably more light is thrown on this question when we examine the products of human activity, such as implements, weapons, and works of art. Traces of man, in the form of objects hammered out of flint and shaped into clubs, chisels, knives, and daggers, capable of serving as implements of daily use no less than as weapons, are to be found as far back as the first diluvian epoch, and, in their crudest forms, perhaps even as early as the tertiary period. The more polished objects of similar form belong to a later age. Still more remarkable are the works of art--in particular, the cave pictures of prehistoric animals, such as the cave bear and the mammoth. Nevertheless, none of these achievements is of such a nature as to afford positive evidence of a culture essentially different from, or lower than, that of the primitive man of to-day. Two outstanding facts, especially, make a comparison difficult. On the one hand, wood plays an important r?le in the life of modern primitive man, being used for the construction of tools, weapons, and, in part, also of baskets and vessels. But the utensils of wood that may have existed in prehistoric times could not have withstood the destructive forces of decomposition and decay. All such utensils, therefore, that prehistoric man may have possessed have been lost. Thus, for example, it will be difficult ever to ascertain whether or not he was familiar with the bow and arrow, since the arrow, as well as the bow, was originally made of wood. Secondly, there is at the present time no primitive tribe, however much shut off from its more remote environment, into which barter, which is nowhere entirely absent, may not introduce some objects representing a higher form of civilization, particularly metals and metal implements. If, however, we bear in mind that, in the one case, products have suffered destruction and that, in the other, articles have been introduced from without, the impression made by prehistoric utensils and products of art--aside from certain doubtful remains dating back beyond the diluvial epoch--is not essentially different from that made by the analogous products of the Negritos of the Philippines or the inland tribes of Ceylon. Though the material of which the implements are constructed differs, the knives, hammers, and axes in both instances possess the usual form. Thus, the wooden knife which the Veddah of Ceylon still carves out of bamboo is formed precisely like some of the stone knives of the diluvial period. We find a similar correspondence when we examine the traces of dwellings and decorations that have been preserved, as well as certain remains that throw light upon customs. The oldest prehistoric people of Europe dwelt in caves, just as the primitive man of the tropics does to-day in the rainy season. In a rock cavern near Le Moustier, in France, there was discovered a skeleton whose crouching position points to a mode of burial still prevalent among primitive peoples, and one which is doubtless always a fairly positive indication of a belief in demons such as arises in connection with the impression made by death. The dead person is bound in the position that will best prevent his return. Thus, all these prehistoric remains suggest a culture similar to that of primitive tribes of to-day. But, just because they reveal conditions not essentially different from those of the present, these remains make another important contribution to our knowledge of primitive man. They indicate the great stability of primitive culture in general, and render it probable that, unless there are special conditions making for change, such as migrations and racial fusions, the stability increases in proportion to the antiquity. Though this may at first glance seem surprising, it becomes intelligible when we consider that isolation from his surroundings is an important characteristic of primitive man. Having very little contact with other peoples, he is in no wise impelled to change the modes of action to which his environment has led him from immemorial times.

Although the races of Australia are unquestionably not primitive, as was formerly believed and is still held in certain quarters, there are other parts of the earth which, in all probability, really harbour men who are primitive in that relative sense of the term which alone, of course, we are justified in using. If one were to connect the discovery of this primitive man with any single name, the honour would belong to a German traveller and investigator, George Schweinfurth. He was the first to discover a really primitive tribe--that is, one which remained practically untouched by external cultural influences. When Schweinfurth, sailing up the Upper Nile in 1870, listened to the narratives of the Nubian sailors in charge of his boat, he repeatedly heard accounts of a nation of dwarfs, of people two feet tall , living in the impenetrable forests beyond the great lakes which constitute the source of the Nile. Schweinfurth was at once reminded of the old legends regarding pygmies. Such legends are mentioned even by Homer and are introduced also into the writings of Herodotus and of Aristotle. Aristotle, indeed, expressly says that these dwarf peoples of Central Africa exist in reality, and not merely in tales. When Schweinfurth arrived in the country of the Monbuttus, he was actually fortunate enough to gain sight of these pygmies. It is true, they did not exactly correspond to the fantastic descriptions of the sailors--descriptions such as are current here and there even to-day. The sailors represented the pygmies as having long beards, reaching to the earth, and gigantic heads; in short, they imputed to them the characteristics of the dwarf gnome, who appears also in German folk-lore. In reality, it was found that the pygmies are, indeed, small--far below the average normal size of man--but that they are of excellent proportions, have small heads, and almost beardless faces.

Subsequent to Schweinfurth's discovery, similar tribes were found in various parts of the earth. Emin Pasha, together with his companion Stuhlmann, had the good fortune to be able to observe the pygmies of the Congo more closely even than had been possible for Schweinfurth. In the Negritos of the Philippines a similar dwarf people was discovered. They also are of small stature, and, according to their own belief and that of the neighbouring Malays, are the original inhabitants of their forests. Besides these, there are the inland tribes of the Malay Peninsula, the Semangs and Senoi, and, finally, the Veddahs of Ceylon, studied particularly by the cousins Paul and Fritz Sarasin. All of the peoples just mentioned live in forests and have probably been isolated from civilization for thousands of years. The Bushmen of South Africa, of whom we have long known, also belong to this group, although they have not to the same extent been free from the influence of surrounding peoples. In all these cases we have to do with tribes which at one time probably occupied wider territories, but which have now been crowded back into the forest or wilderness. In addition to these tribes, furthermore, there are remnants of peoples in Hindustan, in Celebes, Sumatra, the Sunda Islands, etc. Concerning these, however, we as yet have little knowledge. In some respects, doubtless, the inhabitants of the Andaman Islands should also be here included, although they cannot, on the whole, be regarded as primitive in the strict sense of the word. This is precluded by their external culture, and especially by their legends, the latter of which point to the influence of Asiatic culture.

Following the above-mentioned criteria as to what may be regarded as primitive, the question concerning the external culture of primitive man may, in general, be briefly answered. Of dress there are only meagre beginnings: about the loins a cord of bast, to which twigs of trees are attached to cover the genitals--that is generally all, unless, through secret barter with neighbouring peoples, cotton goods, leather, and the like, have been imported. As regards personal decoration, conditions are much the same. On the next stage of development, the totemic, there is, as we shall later see, a desire for lavish decoration, especially as regards the adornment of the body by painting and tatooing. Little of this, however, is to be found among primitive tribes, and that which exists has probably been introduced from without. Some examples of such decoration are the scanty tatooing in single lines, the painting of the face with several red and white dots, and the wooden plug bored through the bridge of the nose. The Negritos of the Philippines bore holes through their lips for the insertion of a row of blades of grass. Other decorations found are necklaces and bracelets, fillets, combs, hair ornaments made of twigs and flowers, and the like.

What is true of his dress holds also of the dwelling of primitive man. Everything indicates that the first permanent dwelling was the cave. Natural caves in the hillsides, or, less frequently, artificially constructed hollows in the sand, are the places of refuge that primitive man seeks when the rainy season of the tropics drives him to shelter. During the dry season, no shelter at all is necessary; he makes his bed under a tree, or climbs the tree to gain protection from wild animals. Only in the open country, under the compulsion of wind and rain, does he construct a wind-break of branches and leaves after the pattern supplied by nature in the leafy shelter of the forest. When the supports of this screen are inclined toward one another and set up in a circle, the result is the original hut.

Connected with the removal of poison, by means of water and fire, from parts of plants that are otherwise edible, is still another primitive discovery--the utilization of the poisons themselves. Only when the arrow is smeared with plant poisons does the bow become a real weapon. In itself the arrow wound is not sufficient to kill either game or enemy; the arrow must be poisoned if the wound is to cause death or even temporary disability. The Veddahs and the inland tribes of Malacca therefore use the juice of the upas-tree mixed with that of strychnos-trees. The best known of these arrow poisons, curare, used in South America and especially in Guiana, is likewise prepared from the juice of strychnos-trees.

In conclusion, we may supplement these sketches of external culture by mention of a feature that is particularly characteristic of the relation of primitive man to his environment. Primitive man lives in close association with his fellow-tribesmen, but he secludes himself from other tribes of the neighbourhood. He is led to do so because they threaten his means of subsistence; indeed, he himself may fall a prey to them, as do the Pygmies of Central Africa to the anthropophagic customs of the Monbuttus. And yet, primitive man early feels the need of such useful articles as he cannot himself produce but with which he has, in some accidental manner, become acquainted. This gives rise to what is generally called 'secret barter.' An illuminating example of this occurs in the records of the Sarasin cousins as relating to the Veddahs. The Veddah goes by night to the house of a neighbouring Singhalese smith and there deposits what he has to offer in barter, such as captured game, ivory, etc. With this he places a representation of an arrow-head, made of palm-leaves. The next night he returns and finds real arrows of iron which the smith has laid out in exchange for the proffered goods. It might be thought that such a system of barter would imply an excessive measure of confidence. The smith, however, knows that, should he take away that which was brought to him without delivering the arrows, he would himself be struck by an arrow shot from some sheltered ambush. Thus, many things, especially iron, materials for clothing, and articles of adornment, come into the possession of primitive man through secret barter, raising his external culture to a somewhat higher level.

These hypotheses of Bachofen created much dispute in succeeding years. Some of the facts could not be denied from the standpoint of the antiquarian. Nevertheless, the supposition of the universality of an early mother-right was quite rightly questioned, and its origin out of the completely unrestrained condition of the horde was even more vigorously contested. And so the theory of the Swiss jurist, which was based essentially on philologic-antiquarian arguments, gradually fell into the background, until, in the seventies of the nineteenth century, it suddenly seemed to find important corroboration and a new basis from an entirely different quarter. It was ethnology that supplied the new facts, and these were again derived from a study of Australia, that field of ethnological observation which was generally regarded as more particularly exemplifying primitive culture. Bachofen believed to have demonstrated that maternal descent was originally a universal custom, even in the case of those who are now cultural peoples. Ethnology revealed the fact that this system of kinship is still very prevalent in Australia. Indeed, it is so prevalent that even to-day about three-fifths of the tribes trace descent through the mother and only two-fifths through the father. In some of the cases in which the system of paternal descent is now established, moreover, it is probable that the mother once determined the kinship of the children. It was on the basis of these facts that, in his volume on the natives of south-eastern Australia, Howitt, the most thorough investigator of the social conditions of the Australians, came to a conclusion similar to that previously reached by Bachofen on the basis of his antiquarian investigations. In Howitt's view, all family relations were originally based on the system of maternal descent. This system, though generally restricted to narrower bounds than in Australia, is likewise to be found in America, Melanesia, Polynesia, and in several parts of the Old World, especially among the peoples of northern Siberia and among the Dravidian tribes in the southern part of Hindustan. These facts have more and more led present-day ethnologists to a view that is in essential agreement with Bachofen's theory. Again the question was raised how such a system of maternal descent was possible. The answer was that it could be possible only if the mother, but not the father, was known to son and daughter--again an analogical conclusion from conditions prevailing in present-day society outside the marriage tie. Accordingly, the idea was again adopted that, anteceding marriage, there was an original state of promiscuity. It was believed that there was originally neither marriage nor family, but merely a condition in which there were sexual relations of all with all--a picture of the relations between man and woman suggested by the idea of an original state of natural rights and of freedom from political restraints, and forming, as it were, the counterpart of the latter.

But had not a further argument been added, perhaps neither female descent alone nor group marriage would have attracted to this theory so many prominent ethnologists, including, besides Howitt, the two able investigators of Australia, Spencer and Gillen, the learned exponent of comparative ethnology, J. G. Frazer, and a number of others. This further argument was presented with particular thoroughness by the American ethnologist Lewes Morgan, in his history of primitive man, "Ancient Humanity" . It is based upon what Morgan has termed the 'Malayan system of relationship.' We are not, of course, familiar with this as a system of actual relationship; it occurs only in the languages of certain peoples, as a system of names--in short, as a nomenclature--referring in part to relations of kinship, but chiefly to age-relations within one and the same kinship group. The name 'Malayan' is not entirely appropriate as applied to this system. The nomenclature is found particularly on the island of Hawaii, though it also occurs in Micronesian territory. Its essential characteristic may be very simply described. It consists, or consisted, in the fact that a native of Hawaii, for example, calls by the name of 'father,' not only his actual father but also every man of an age such that he could be his father--that is, every man in the kinship group of the next older generation. Similarly, he calls by the name 'mother,' not only his own mother but every woman who might possibly, as regards age, be his mother. He calls brother and sister the men and women of his own generation, son and daughter those of the next younger generation, and so on up to grandfather and grandmother, grandson and grand-daughter. The Hawaiian native does not concern himself about more distant generations; great-grandfather is for him the same as grandfather, and great-grandchild the same as grandchild. The terms, thus, are of the simplest sort. The brothers and sisters of a man, whom we designate in the accompanying diagram by M, are placed alongside of him in the same generation; above, as an older generation, are fathers and mothers; still

higher, are grandfathers and grandmothers; below, are sons and daughters and the grandsons and granddaughters. The same, of course, holds also for women. Thus, the system as a whole comprises five generations.

Now, it was maintained that this system could have arisen only out of a previous condition of general promiscuity. For, unless the actual father were universally unknown, how could it be possible that a person would call by the name of father every man within the same kinship group who might, as regards age, be his father? If, however, we propose this argument, we immediately strike a weak point in the hypothesis, since all women of the older generation are called mother just as its men are called father. We should certainly expect that the real mother would be known, because the child derives its nourishment from her during a period which is especially long among primitive peoples, and because it grows up close to her. And, furthermore, the hypothesis is hardly reconcilable with the fact that, for the most part, Malayo-Polynesian languages differentiate relations by marriage even more sharply than do our own. An Hawaiian man, for example, calls the brother of his wife by a different name than does a woman the brother of her husband. Thus, in place of our word 'brother-in-law' they have two expressions. In any event, the term 'brother-in-law' is applied to an individual, and therefore implies marriage. To meet this point, we would be obliged to fall back on the supposition that these terms represent later additions to the original nomenclature of relationship. But even then the fact would remain that, in their direct reference, these terms are merely names for differences in age. It therefore remains an open question whether the terms also designate relationship; to the extent of our observation, this is certainly not the case. The native of Hawaii, so far as we know anything about him, knew his father and mother: what he lacked was merely a specific name for them. Whenever he did not call his father by his given name, he evidently called him by the same name that he applied to the older men of his immediate group. Among European peoples also, the terms 'father' and 'mother' are sometimes used in connection with men and women outside this relationship. For example, the Russians, particularly, have a custom of addressing as 'little father' and 'little mother' persons who are not in the least related to them. That which makes it highly probable that in the so-called Malayan system of relationship we are dealing not with degrees of relationship but with age-periods, is, in the last event, a different phenomenon--one that has hitherto been overlooked in connection with these discussions. In the very regions whose languages employ this nomenclature, custom prescribes that the youths and men live in separation from the women and children from their earliest years on. This is the institution of the men's club with its age-groups. Its social r?le is an important one, crowding even the family association into the background. Under such circumstances, the individual is naturally interested first of all in his companions of the same age-group, for each of these usually occupies a separate apartment in the men's house. Thus, the so-called Malayan system of relationship is really not a system of relationship at all, but a nomenclature of age-groups based on social conditions. These conditions bring it about that companions of the same sex are more closely associated than are men and women. In the men's houses a companion of the same group is a brother, one of the next older group, a father. Together with these men the individual goes to war and to the hunt. Thus, these phenomena cannot be said to belong to the lowest stage of culture. Nor, obviously, does this terminology, which has reference to differences of age, exclude any particular form of marriage. In this case it is a mistake to associate the names 'father,' 'mother,' 'brother,' etc., with the concepts that we attach to these words.

With polyandry the case is essentially otherwise. In it, entirely different motives are operative; it might, indeed, be said that they are the exact opposite of those that bring about polygyny. It is particularly significant that polyandry is found in regions where there is a scarcity of women. This scarcity, however, is, in turn, generally due to an evil custom of barbaric culture, namely, infanticide. In Polynesia, where polyandry was very prevalent, this custom was at one time fairly rampant. Even to-day infanticide still appears to be practised by some of the Dravidian tribes of Hindustan. Similar conditions prevail among the Australians. In Polynesia, however, and probably in other localities as well, it was chiefly the female children who were the victims of infanticide. The natural result was a decrease in women and a striking numerical disproportion between the sexes. Thus, Ellis, one of the older English investigators of conditions in these territories, estimated the relation of men to women as about six to one. Under such circumstances the custom of polyandry is intelligible without further explanation. It was not possible for every one to possess a wife of his own, and so several men united to win one wife in common.

Thus, all these phenomena, belonging in part to the transitional stage between monogamy and polygamy and in part to a combination of the two forms of polygamy, namely, polygyny and polyandry, point to monogamy as the basal form of marriage, and that form from which, under the influence of particular conditions, all others have developed. Whether or not we regard it as probable that the system of maternal descent was at one time universal, no argument for the existence of an original promiscuity can be based upon it. If we call to mind the close association of the youths and men of the kinship group in the men's house, it will be apparent that such conditions of social intercourse make for a particularly intimate bond between mother and children. Before his entrance into the community of men, the boy lives in the company of the women. This close association between mother and children is sufficient to account for the origin of maternal descent. But, owing to the gradual change of cultural conditions, it is to be expected that maternal descent should pass over into paternal descent as soon as more positive conceptions of authority and property are formed. Moreover, the possibility also remains that among some tribes paternal descent prevailed from the very outset; positive proof is here not available. We cannot, of course, deny the possibility that under certain cultural conditions man exercised the decisive influence from the very beginning, as early, indeed, as one may speak of clan membership and hereditary succession. The most primitive stage of culture, as we shall see in the following discussion, lacks the conditions for either maternal or paternal descent, inasmuch as it possesses neither clearly defined clans nor any personal property worth mention.

Meanwhile, primitive man, in so far as we may speak of him in the relative sense already indicated, has really been discovered. But the Australian does not belong to this class, nor, even less, can many of the peoples of Oceania be counted within it. It includes only those tribes which, having probably been isolated for many centuries and cut off from the culture of the rest of the world, have remained on the same primitive level. We have become familiar with them in the preceding account of the external culture of primitive man. We find them to be forest peoples who have, for the most part, been crowded back into inaccessible territory and who have entered but slightly into intercourse with the outside world, inasmuch as their needs are limited. They generally call themselves, whether rightly or wrongly we need not inquire, the original inhabitants of these regions, and they are regarded as such by their neighbours. They include, in addition to several tribes of Hindustan , particularly the Semangs and Senoi of the interior of the Malay Peninsula, the Veddahs of Ceylon, the Negritos of the Philippines and Central Africa, and, finally, to some extent, also the Bushmen. This is certainly a considerable number of peoples, some of whom live at great distances from the others. In spite of this, however, even their external culture is largely the same. Considering the primitive character of their social institutions and customs, it would seem safe to say that without doubt they approach the lowest possible level of human culture. Besides bow and arrow they have scarcely a weapon, no vessels of clay, and practically only such implements as are presented directly by nature herself. At this stage there is scarcely anything to distinguish man from the animal except the early discovered art of kindling fire, with its influence on the utilization of the food that is gathered. Briefly summarized, these are the main traits of primitive culture that are known to us.

What, now, is the status of marriage and the family at this period? The answer to this question will come as a surprise to those who are imbued with the widespread hypotheses that presuppose the primitive state to be that of the horde. And yet, if these hypotheses be regarded in the proper light, our answer might almost be expected. Among the primitive tribes that we have mentioned, monogamy is everywhere found to be not only the exclusive mode of marriage, but that which is always, so to speak, taken for granted; and this monogamy, indeed, takes the form of single marriage. It is but rarely that related families live together more or less permanently, forming the beginning of the joint family. The Bushmen alone offer something of an exception to this rule. Among them, polygyny, together with other practices, has been introduced. This is probably due to the influence of neighbouring African peoples, such as the Hottentots and the Bantus. Elsewhere conditions are different. This is true especially of the Semangs and Senoi, whose isolation has remained more complete, and of the Veddahs of nature, as the Sarasin cousins call them in distinction from the surrounding Veddahs of culture. Among these peoples, monogamy--indeed, lifelong monogamy--has remained the prevailing form of marriage. Connected with it is found the original division of labour, which is based on sex. Man provides the animal food by hunting; woman gathers the vegetable food--fruits, tubers, and seeds--and, by the employment of fire, if necessary, renders both it and the game edible. This basis of division of labour, which appears natural and in harmony with the endowment of the sexes, contrasts with the conditions of later culture in that it indicates an approximate equality of the sexes. Furthermore, Rudolf Martin and the two Sarasins, investigators of the primitive Asiatic tribes of Malacca and Ceylon, commend the marriage of these peoples as being a union of husband and wife strictly guarded by custom. In forming a moral estimate of these conditions, it should not be overlooked that the exclusive possession of the wife is probably due to jealousy as much as it is to mutual faithfulness. Among the Veddahs, the intruder who threatens this possession is struck to earth by a well-aimed arrow shot from behind ambush, and custom approves this act of vengeance as a justifiable measure on the part of the injured man. Therefore, even though a French traveller and investigator may, to a certain extent, have confused cause and effect when he stated that the monogamy of these tribes had its origin in jealousy, the exercise of the right of revenge may, nevertheless, have helped to strengthen the custom. But, of course, in view of the primitive state of culture that here prevails, this custom of revenge is itself merely an indication of the undisputed supremacy of monogamy. Even as the individual, and not the clan, exercises this vengeance, so also does marriage continue to be restricted to single marriage. Of the formation of joint families, which arise out of the union of immediate blood relations, we find at most, as has been remarked, only the beginnings.

The more extensive social groups generally result from the fact that during the rainy season families withdraw into caves among the hills. The larger caves are frequently occupied in common by a number of families, particularly by such as are most closely related. Yet the groups of co-dwellers are not so much determined by considerations of kinship as by the size of the places of refuge; a single family occasionally occupies a small cave by itself. Nevertheless, this community life plainly furnishes the incentive to a gradual formation of wider social groups. This, no doubt, accounts for the fact that during the favourable season of the year several families of the Veddahs claim for themselves a specific plot of ground, whose supply of game, as well as of the products of the soil, which the women gather, belongs exclusively to them. Thus, there is a division of the people into districts, and these are determined geographically rather than ethnologically. Every one is entitled to obtain his food, whether game or products of the soil, from a specified territory. Custom strictly guards this communal property, just as it protects the single marriage. The Veddah, for example, who encroaches upon the territory belonging to a group other than his own, is in no less danger of falling a victim to an arrow shot from an ambush than is the one who trespasses on marriage ties.

These various institutions form the beginnings of social organization, but as yet they do not represent developed clan groups or established joint families of the patriarchal type. On the contrary, as they arise through the free association of individuals, so also may they be freely dissolved. Each man has exclusive possession of his wife. Without interference on the part of his clan, moreover, he exercises absolute control over his children, who remain with the individual family just as in the case of a developed monogamy. There is no trace of sex-groups, such as are later to be found in the case of the men's houses and the age-groups. Only temporarily, on the occasion of common undertakings, such as the hunting of large animals, which requires a considerable measure of strength, or when new hunting-grounds are being sought, is a leader appointed from among the older men. His leadership, however, ceases with the completion of the undertaking. There are no permanent chiefs, any more than there are clans or tribal organizations.

Our knowledge of those peoples whom we, avoiding the errors of the past, may now regard as primitive, led to the conviction that the Asiatic and African tribes described above were actually primitive, in the above-mentioned relative sense of the word. Naturally the question concerning the language of these peoples then began to arouse considerable attention, on the part, not only of ethnologists, but also of those interested in philology. The question is of equal importance, to say the least, for the psychologist. For language is bound up with thought. From the phenomena of language, therefore, we may draw inferences concerning the most general characteristics of thought. Such fundamental differences of language as exist, for example, between the Chinese and the Indo-Germanic tongues do not, of course, allow the direct conclusion that there are quantitative differences in mental culture. They do imply, however, that there are divergent directions and forms of thought. In their ceaseless change, the latter react upon language, and this, in turn, again influences mental characteristics. We cannot suppose that, in the period of Old High German, much less in that of the original German, our ancestors employed the same forms of thought with which we of to-day are familiar. To a lesser degree, similar changes have undoubtedly transpired within much shorter spaces of time.

These considerations make the question concerning the language of primitive man of the utmost psychological importance. Linguistic investigations, however, so far as they, in their early attempts, had been able to survey the field, had brought to light a fact which discouraged all efforts to discover an original language. Indeed, it was inevitable that at first glance this discovered fact should have appeared exceedingly strange, particularly when viewed in connection with the life of primitive man. It appeared that, for the most part, the original languages of primitive tribes no longer exist. It is true that in the vocabularies of the Semangs and Senoi of Malacca, of the Veddahs of Ceylon, of the Negritos of the Philippines, and in other vocabularies that have been collected, single words may be found which do not occur in the languages of the neighbouring tribes; and it is noteworthy that the bow and arrow are the objects most frequently designated by such words, a proof of the fact that these are really relatively primitive inventions. On the whole, however, the Veddahs speak the language of the Singhalese and Tamils; the Semangs and Senoi, as well as the Negritos of the Philippines, that of their neighbours, the Malays; similarly, among the African tribes, the Pygmies of Central Africa have apparently appropriated the language of the Monbuttus and other negro races, and the Bushmen that of the Hottentots.

How may this remarkable fact be explained? That these tribes formerly possessed languages of their own can scarcely be doubted. For, as respects physical characteristics, they are absolutely distinct races. Considering their characteristics as a whole, moreover, it is utterly impossible that they could have lacked language before coming into contact with the peoples who entered the country at a later period. How, then, did these people come apparently to lose their original language? To this we may briefly reply that there here transpired what always occurs when the well-known principle of the struggle for existence is applied to the field of mental phenomena. The stronger race crowded out the most important mental creation of the weaker, its language. The language of the weaker race, which was probably very meagre, succumbed to a language that was more highly developed. At first glance, this explanation would appear to contradict what we know concerning the life of these primitive tribes. With what anxiety they isolate themselves from their neighbours! A striking proof of this is offered by the practice of secret barter, in which primitive man sets out from the forest, if possible by night, and deposits his captured game at a place which custom has set apart for this purpose, returning the next night to take whatever the more civilized neighbouring tribes have left in exchange--iron implements and weapons, material for clothing, and especially articles of adornment. The participants in this barter do not see each other, much less speak with each other. But where such seclusion exists, how is it possible for a strange language to penetrate? This problem appears almost insoluble. Nevertheless, a solution that appears at least probable was suggested by the investigations of Kern, an able Dutch scholar. His studies were based mainly on the development of the various Malayan idioms. A remarkable exception to the rule that primitive tribes have adopted the language of their more civilized neighbours came to light in the case of the Negritos of the Philippines. Their neighbours, as well as those of the tribes of the interior of Malacca, belong to that much-migrating race, the Malayans. If we compare the Negrito word-formations that have been collected during the past forty years with the vocabulary of the neighbouring Malayans, it is evident that all the words are entirely different, or at least seem to be so with few exceptions. When, however, Kern traced the probable development of these words, and compared them, not with the present-day usage of the Malays but with older stages of their language, he found that the latter invariably contained the counterparts of the Negrito words. Thus, while these Negritos have remained untouched by the present-day Malays, who probably entered the country at least several centuries ago, they have evidently derived their language from a Malayan influx that occurred much earlier still. To this may be added the demonstrable fact, gleaned from another source, that from very early times the Malayan tribes undertook migrations at widely separated intervals. Traversing the seas in their unsteady boats, they at various times peopled such islands, in particular, as were not too remote from the mainland. Now the testimony of language, to which we have referred, demonstrates that there were at least two such migrations to the Philippines, and that they occurred at widely different times. The original Malayan dialect, which has now become extinct or unknown to the modern Malays, was assimilated by the Negrito peoples, who probably occupied this territory before the arrival of any of the Malays. But this leads to a further inference. If the language was appropriated in prehistoric times and if the conditions of the present are such as would make this scarcely possible, we must conclude that the interrelations of the immigrants and the original inhabitants were formerly not the same as those that now prevail. And, as a matter of fact, this seems altogether probable, if we call to mind the descriptions which modern travellers give of their experiences among these primitive peoples. The traits of character that particularly distinguish them are fear and hatred of their more civilized neighbours; corresponding to this, is the contempt felt by the latter, because of their higher culture, for the more primitive peoples. The only thing that restrains the immigrant people from waging a war of extermination against the original inhabitants is the fear of the poisoned arrow which the Negrito directs against his enemy from behind an ambush. In view of these facts it is not difficult to understand the almost universal isolation of primitive man at the present time. On the other hand, travellers who have been admitted into the lives of the primitive tribes of Malacca and Ceylon and have sought to gain their friendship, unanimously assure us that, whenever a person has once succeeded in coming close to these people and in overcoming their distrust, he finds their outstanding characteristics to be good nature and readiness to render assistance. We may, therefore, be justified in assuming that the seclusion of primitive man was not an original condition, but that it grew up, here and elsewhere, as a result of the war of extermination to which he was exposed on the part of the races attempting to crowd him out of a large part of his territory. Before this state of affairs arose, barter also could scarcely have possessed that character of secrecy which only fear and hatred could give it. In all probability the intercourse which necessarily took place in early times between the older inhabitants and the newer peoples, led to a competition of languages in which the poorer and less developed language of primitive man inevitably succumbed. Nevertheless, the primitive language may also have quietly exercised a reciprocal influence upon the more advanced language. An observation that we cannot escape, even on far higher stages of linguistic development, is the fact that, in such a struggle between a superior minority and a less civilized majority, the former determines the main stock of words, and even, under favourable conditions, the grammatical form, whereas the latter exercises a decisive influence on pronunciation. That a similar process occurred in connection with the displacement of primitive languages, the language of the Bushmen offers proof. This is essentially a Hottentot dialect, even though it is characterized by certain traits of primitive thought. The Hottentots, however, have derived their well-known clacking sounds from the Bushmen, who also gave these sounds to the languages of the Bantu peoples.

The question still remains how the other characteristics of gesture-language, particularly the absence of grammatical categories and a syntax which follows the principle of immediate and perceptual intelligibility, compare with the corresponding characteristics of the relatively primitive spoken languages. These characteristics, indeed, are of incomparably greater importance than the relations of sound and meaning. The latter are more strongly exposed to external, transforming influences. Word-formations, however, and the position of the words within the sentence, mirror the forms of thought itself; whenever the thought undergoes vital changes, the latter inevitably find expression in the grammatical categories of the language, and in the laws of syntax which it follows.

But ideas of such acts and conditions as are in themselves of a perceptual nature are also occasionally expressed by combining several elements which are obtained by discriminating the separate parts of a perceptual image. The idea to bring, for example, is expressed by the Togo negro as 'take, go, give.' In bringing something to some one, one must first take it, then go to him and give it to him. It therefore happens that the word 'go,' in particular, is frequently added even where we find no necessity for especially emphasizing the act of going. Thus, the Togo negro would very probably express the sentence, 'The angry teacher strikes the child,' in the following way: 'Man-school-angry-go-strike-child.' This is the succession that directly presents itself to one who thinks in pictures, and it therefore finds expression in language. Whenever conceptions require a considerable number of images in order to be made picturable, combinations that are equivalent to entire sentences may result in a similar manner. Thus, the Togo negro expresses the concept 'west' by the words 'sun-sit-place'--that is, the place where the sun sits down. He thinks of the sun as a personal being who, after completing his journey, here takes a seat.

In entering upon a consideration of the development of primitive myths, we are at once confronted by the old question disputed by mythologists, ethnologists, and students of religion, Where and when did religion originate? For is not religion always concerned with the supernatural? Now, in certain cases, even primitive man supplements the sensuous world in which he lives and whose impressions he has not so much as elaborated into abstract concepts, with supersensuous elements, though he himself, of course, is unaware of their supersensuous character. The question, therefore, lies near at hand: Is religion already present at this stage, or is there at most a potentiality of religion, the germ of its future development? If the latter should be true, where, then, does religion begin? Now, our interest in the history of myth-formation derives largely from the very fact that the problem is intimately bound up with that of the origin of religion. Merely in itself the origin of the myth might have relatively little interest for us. The question, however, as to how religion arose acquires its great importance through its connection with the two further questions as to whether or not religion is a necessary constituent of human consciousness and whether it is an original possession or is the result of certain preconditions of mythological thought.

Closely connected with the magic of sickness is counter-magic, an agency by which disease is removed or the attack of sickness-demons warded off. Even primitive man seeks for such modes of relief. Hence, probably, the original formation of a special group of men, which, though not, of course, at the very first a fixed professional class, was nevertheless the precursor of the latter. Among the American Indians, these were the 'medicine-men'; the peoples of northern Asia called them 'shamans'--more generally expressed, they were magicians. The name 'medicine-man,' indeed, is not inappropriate. The medicine-man of the savages is, in truth, the predecessor of the modern physician, and also, in a certain sense, of the modern priest. He not only ministers to the individual whom he restores to health by means of his counter-magic, but he can himself directly practise magic. Since he has power over demons, he can exorcise them from the body; but he can also magically cause them to enter it. Thus, the medicine-man has a twofold calling. He is feared, but he is also valued as a helper in need. His position differs according as the one or the other emotion predominates. He was the first to investigate the effect of herbs on man. He probably discovered the poisons, and, by rendering the arrow poisonous, gained a still higher authority in the eyes of the savage. For the arrow, too, is a means of magic. But he also discovered methods of removing poisons, and thereby transformed poisonous plants into articles of food. His calling, then, is a supremely important one, though also at all times dangerous for the one who practises it. He is not only exposed to persecution if he fails to accomplish what is expected of him, or if he is suspected of evil magic, but the magician, when pressed by need, also becomes a deceiver. The deception of the medicine-man, indeed, apparently dates back to the very earliest times. Koch-Gr?nberg tells us that among the Central Brazilians the medicine-men expel disease by carrying about with them a piece of wood, which they bring forth, after various manipulations, as the alleged seat of the demon. If the suggestion thus given is effective, the patient may, of course, feel himself improved. At any rate, we must not think that the mass of the people is led to lose belief in magic; in most cases, perhaps, the medicine-man himself remains a deceived deceiver.

The assumption that the present purpose of clothing is also the end that it originally served led naturally to the theory that when the loin-cord alone is worn--as a mere indication, seemingly, of the absence of clothing--this is to be regarded not as an original custom but as the remnant of an earlier dress now serving solely as an adornment. But this supposition is contradicted, in the first place, by the fact that the loin-cord occasionally occurs by itself precisely amidst the most primitive conditions, and, in the second place, by the general development not only of clothing as such but also of certain means of adorning the surface of the body, particularly painting and tattooing. Now, there is a general rule that development proceeds not from the composite to the simple, but, conversely, from the simple to the complex. Moreover, indications of the influence of magical ideas are generally the more marked according as the stages on which the phenomenal occur are the earlier. The loin-cord, particularly, is occasionally put to certain magical uses which are scarcely intelligible without reference to the widely prevalent cord-magic. If the binding of a cord of bast of his own weaving about the hips of his prospective wife signifies a sort of marriage ceremony for the Veddah, as it undoubtedly does, this must imply that the cord is a means of magic that binds her for life. Instances have been found of another remarkable and complex custom that substantiates this 'magical' interpretation. A man binds a loin-cord of his own weaving about the woman and she does the same to him--an exchange of magic-working fetters which is a striking anticipation of the exchange of rings still customary with us upon betrothal or marriage. For the exchange of rings, to a certain extent, represents in miniature the exchange of cords practised by primitive man, though there is, of course, this enormous difference that, in the primitive ceremony the binding has a purely magical significance, whereas the later act is merely symbolical. All these phenomena indicate that even the beginnings of clothing involve ideas of magic. Later, of course, a number of other motives also enter in, gradually leading to a change in meaning and to a wide departure from the idea originally entertained. Owing to the influence of climatic changes, there arises, in the first place, the need of protection; and the greater this becomes, the more does magic recede. And so, even among primitive tribes, the loin-cord is gradually replaced by the apron proper, which no longer requires a special cord for its support. In the course of this transition into a means of protection, the feeling of modesty more and more enters into the development as a contributing factor. According to a law operative everywhere, even under very different conditions, modesty is always connected with such parts of the body as are required by custom to be kept covered. To do what custom forbids arouses the feeling of shame, particularly in such cases as this, where the violation is so direct and apparent. It is for this reason that the feeling of shame may be aroused by the exposure of very different parts of the body. Thus, the Hottentot woman wears an apron in front and also one behind. The latter covers a cushion of fat over the seat, which is greatly developed in the case of the Hottentot woman and is regarded by these tribes as a particular mark of beauty. To a Hottentot woman it is no worse to have the front apron removed than for some one to take away the rear apron. In the latter case, she seats herself on the ground and cannot be made to get up until the apron has been restored to her. When Leonard Schultze was travelling in the Hottentot country of Namaqua Land, he noticed a certain Hottentot custom which strictly prescribes that the legs must be stretched out when one sits down upon the ground--they are not to be bent at the knees. When one of his companions, unfamiliar with the custom, sat differently, a Hottentot struck him on the knees so that they straightened out; when the reason was asked, the answer was that "this manner of sitting brings misfortune." The reply is significant, particularly because it shows how the feeling of shame, which arises at a later period in the development of the original idea of magic and is due to the influence of custom, itself, in turn, reacts associatively on the older magical ideas. The violation of custom is regarded as dangerous, and as a matter requiring, wherever possible, the employment of protective magic. The reasons for guarding against a violation of custom are not merely subjective, but also objective, for guilt is followed by punishment. Thus, there is here an intertwining of motives.

The necklace, bracelet, finger-ring, and sometimes the head-fillet, occur as specific means of magic, in addition to, and in substitution for, the loin-cord. In more restricted localities we find also earrings and nose-rings, the boring through of the lips, and combs to which twigs and leaves are attached. Of these, the necklace has maintained itself far down into later culture, for it is the necklace that gives support to the amulet. The latter is supposed to afford protective magic against all possible dangers; the finger-ring, on the other hand, is the favourite vehicle of an active magic, changing things in accordance with the wishes of the owner--that is to say, it is a talisman. Similar in its powers to the necklace, furthermore, is the bracelet--found even in primitive culture--and also the head-fillet, which encircles the forehead and the back part of the head. The Semangs and Senoi of the Malaccan forests are invested with the head-fillet by the medicine-man, who exchanges it for another at particularly important turning-points of life, such, for example, as the entrance of the youth into manhood, or of the woman upon marriage. The head-fillets that have been removed are preserved in the house of the medicine-man. If the woman is widowed, her former fillet is placed on her head. This signifies the annulment of the magical union that existed throughout the period of marriage. Evidently this magic custom is closely connected with the strict observance of monogamy. These ceremonial changes in dress are accompanied by a similar change in name. On entering the married state a woman changes her name, as does also the youth who passes into manhood. Moreover, this change is not in the least a mere symbol, but represents a magical act. With the change in name, the individual himself becomes another person. The name is so closely connected with the person that even the speaking of it may exercise a magical influence upon him.

But the magical ideas radiating from death and sickness come to be associated also with other external objects--objects not attached to the individual's person, as are clothing and adornment. Examples of this are implements, and, in particular, the weapon of primitive man, namely, the bow and arrow. The magical significance has, of course, frequently disappeared from the memory of the natives. The Sarasins saw the Veddahs execute dances about an arrow that had been set upright. On inquiring, the reason, they were told: 'This was done even by our fathers and grandfathers; why should we not also do it?' A similar answer could be given in the case of many, indeed, of most of these magical ceremonies. Those ceremonies particularly that are in any way complicated are passed down from generation to generation, being scrupulously guarded and occasionally augmented by additional magical elements. It is for this reason that, in the presence of the extraordinarily complicated dances and magical ceremonies of primitive peoples, we sometimes ask in amazement: How could such a wealth of connected ideas possibly arise and become expressed in action? To this it might briefly be replied that they did not arise at all as creations of a single moment. The meaning of the ceremonies has for the most part long been lost to the participants themselves, and was probably unknown even to their ancestors. The general reason for the various acts that are executed according to ancient usage is that they serve a magical purpose. The performers firmly believe that the acts will secure that which is desired, whether it be good fortune or protection from evil, and that the greater the care and exactitude with which the act is performed, the more certainly will the magical purpose be attained. The conditions here are really not essentially different from those that still prevail everywhere in the cult ceremonies of civilized peoples. It is the very fact that the motives are forgotten that leads to the enormous complexity of the phenomena. Even in the case of the above-mentioned dance about the arrow, there may have entered a considerable number of motives that were later forgotten. Of them all, nothing was eventually remembered except that, to insure the welfare of the individual and that of the group, the act prescribed by custom must be performed at stated times or under particular conditions.

Thus, then, we utterly confuse primitive thinking with our own scientific standpoint when we explain it by the need for the interpretation of phenomena. Causality, in our sense of the word, does not exist for primitive man. If we would speak of causality at all on his level of experience, we may say only that he is governed by the causality of magic. This, however, receives its stamp, not from the laws that regulate the connection of ideas, but from the forces of emotion. The mythological causality of emotional magic is no less spasmodic and irregular than the logical causality arising out of the orderly sequence of perceptions and ideas is constant. That the former preceded the latter is, nevertheless, of great importance. For the causality of natural law, as we know it, would hardly have been possible had not magical causality prepared the way for it. Yet the later arose from the earlier just at that moment in which the attention of men ceased to be held by the unusual, the startling, and the fearful, and occupied itself with the orderly, the regular, and commonplace. For this reason the very greatest advance in the investigation of natural laws was made by Galileo, when he took as the object of his research that which was the most commonplace, the falling of a body to the earth. Primitive man did not reflect about this phenomenon nor, until a long time afterwards, did civilized man. That a body should fall to the earth when thrown upwards 'is self-evident' because it is thus that bodies have always acted. An echo of this primitive view remains even in the older physics, which, following Aristotle, tells us that a body falls because the centre of the earth is its natural point of rest--that is, to put it otherwise, it must behave as it does because it has always done so.

The doves of Taravelzita say kuturung. Where the talagoya is roasted and eaten, there blew a wind, Where the memmina is roasted and eaten, there blew a wind, Where the deer is roasted and eaten, there blew a wind.

On a somewhat higher level stands the following song of the Semangs. It refers to the ring-tailed lemur , a monkey species very common in the forests of Malacca; by the Semangs it is called 'kra':--

He runs along the branches, the kra, He carries the fruit with him, the kra, He runs to and fro, the kra; Over the living bamboo, the kra, Over the dead bamboo, the kra;

He runs along the branches, the kra, He leaps about and screams, the kra, He permits glimpses of himself, the kra, He shows his grinning teeth, the kra.

But the question now arises, Which came first? Did the Bakairi really wish to represent snakes, bees, women's aprons, etc., and reduce these to geometrical schematizations? Or did he, without such intention, first make simple linear decorations, and later read into them, through imaginative association, the memory images of objects? The latter is doubtless the case. For it is much easier first to draw simple lines and then to read complicated objects into them than it is, conversely, to reduce these pictures at the outset to abstract geometrical schemata. Indeed, when the Bakairi wishes to draw real objects, he proceeds just as our children do: he copies them as well as he can. For example, the Bakairi occasionally draws fishes in the sand for the purpose of marking out a path, or he attempts to reproduce men and animals in a way strikingly similar to our children's drawings. Evidently, therefore, it was not inability to draw the objects themselves that gave rise to these primitive geometrical decorations. The decorations came first, and the memory images of the objects of daily perception were then read into them. The answer, however, to the question as to why primitive man produces decorations at all, is easily found by calling to mind the motives discernible in such uniform and simple series of figures as the triangles and arcs which the Senoi and the Semangs cut into bamboo. Because of the character of his locomotor organs, primitive man repeats the movements of the dance at regular intervals, and this rhythm gives him pleasure. Similarly, he derives pleasure even from the regularly repeated movements involved in making the straight lines of his drawings, and this pleasure is enhanced when he sees the symmetrical figures that arise under his hand as a result of his movements. The earliest aesthetic stimuli are symmetry and rhythm. We learn this even from the most primitive of all arts, the dance. Just as one's own movements in the dance are an aesthetic expression of symmetry and rhythm, so also are these same characteristics embodied in the earliest productions of pictorial art--in the beginning indeed, they alone are to be found. The primitive song comes to be a song only as a result of the regular repetition of a refrain that in itself is unimportant. As soon as primitive man produces lines on wood, his pleasure in rhythmic repetition at once leads him to make these symmetrical. It is for this reason that we never find decorations that consist merely of a single figure--a single triangle, for instance--but always find a considerable number of figures together, either above one another, or side by side, or both combined, though the last arrangement occurs only at a somewhat more advanced stage. If, now, these decorations are more and more multiplied by reason of the increasing pleasure in their production, we naturally have figures that actually resemble certain objects. This resemblance is strengthened particularly by the repetition of the figures. A single square with its angles placed vertically and horizontally would scarcely be interpreted as a bee, even by a Bakairi; but in a series of such squares we ourselves could doubtless imagine a swarm of bees. Thus there arise representations resembling animals, plants, and flowers. Because of their symmetrical form, the latter particularly are apt to become associated with geometrical designs. Yet on the whole the animal possesses a greater attraction. The animal that forms the object of the hunt is carved upon the bow or the blow-pipe. This is a means of magic that brings the animal within range of the weapon. It is magic, likewise, that affords the explanation of the statement of the Senoi and the Semangs that the drawings on the combs of their women are a means of protection against diseases. These two sorts of purposes illustrate the two forms of magic that are still exemplified on higher cultural levels by the amulet, on the one hand, and the talisman, on the other--protection from danger, and assistance in one's personal undertakings. Now it is easy to understand how especially the complicated decorations on the combs of the Malaccan tribes may, through the familiar processes of psychical assimilation, come to be regarded as living beings, in the form either of animals or of plants, and how these forms in turn may come to be interpreted as sickness-demons. For, these demons are beings that have never been seen; hence the terrified imagination may all the more readily give them the most fantastic shapes. Indeed, we still find examples of this in the more elaborate pictures of the art of some semi-cultural peoples. Thus also are explained many of the masks used among the most diverse peoples. It is almost always grotesque animal or human masks that are employed to represent fear-demons. The freer the sway of the imagination, the easier it is to see the figure of a demon in any decoration whatsoever. The multiplicity of the ornamental drawings, moreover, meets the need for distinguishing a great number of such demons, so that a woman of the Senoi or the Semangs carries about on her head the demoniacal representation of all known diseases. For, according to an ancient law of magic, the demon himself has a twofold r?le--he both causes the sickness and protects against it. Just as a picture is identified with its object, so also is the drawing that represents or portrays the sickness-demon regarded as the demon itself. Whoever carries it about is secure against its attack. Both magic and counter-magic spring from a common source. The medicine-man who exercises counter-magic must also be familiar with magic. The two are but divergent forms of the same magical potency that has its birth in the emotions of fear and terror.

These are all signs which certainly suggest a not very distant past. Moreover, art products cannot resemble each other in so many respects without having some connection in origin. Added to this is the fact that the very character of such pictures as are still in existence scarcely allows us to regard them as more than sixty to seventy years old. From all of this we must conclude that this art is not primitive at all, but was imported, resembling in this many other things that gain entrance into the life of a primitive tribe. If the essential elements of the Biblical account of the Creation reached the Andamanese, who in other respects are primitive, why may we not also suppose that a wandering European artist at one time came to the Bushmen, even before any other elements of European culture had become accessible to them? Nevertheless, the fact that this painting exists indicates the presence of a remarkable talent. This brings us to our last problem in the psychology of primitive man, to the question concerning his mental equipment in general.

It is characteristic of primitive culture that it has failed to advance since immemorial times, and this accounts for the uniformity prevalent in widely separated regions of the earth. This, however, does not at all imply that, within the narrow sphere that constitutes his world, the intelligence of primitive man is inferior to that of cultural man. If we call to mind the means which the former employs to seek out, to overtake, and to entrap his game, we have testimony both of reflection and, equally so, of powers of observation. In order to capture the larger game, for example, the Bushman digs large holes in the ground, in the middle of which he constructs partitions which he covers with brush. An animal that falls into such a hole cannot possibly work its way out, since two of its legs will be on one side of the partitional division and two on the other. Smaller animals are captured by traps and snares similar to those familiar to us. The Negritos of the Philippines, furthermore, employ a very clever method for securing wild honey from trees without exposing themselves to injury from the bees. They kindle a fire at the foot of the tree, causing a dense smoke. Enveloped by this, an individual climbs the tree and removes the object of his desire, the smoke rendering the robber invisible to the scattering swarm. It is thus that the Negritos secure honey, their most precious article of food. How great, moreover, is the inventive ability required by the bow and arrow, undoubtedly fashioned even by primitive men! We have seen, of course, that these inventions were not snatched from the blue, but that they were influenced by all sorts of empirical elements and probably also by magical ideas, as in the case of the feathering of the arrow. Nevertheless, the assembling and combining of these elements in the production of a weapon best suited to the conditions of primitive life is a marvellous achievement, scarcely inferior, from an intellectual point of view, to the invention of modern firearms. Supplementing this, we have the testimony of observers concerning the general ability of these races. A missionary teacher in Malacca, whose school included Chinese, Senoi, and Malays, gave first rank to the Chinese as regards capacity, and second place to the Senoi, while the Malays were graded last, though they, as we know, are held to be a relatively talented race. Now, this grading, of course, may have been more or less accidental, yet it allows us to conclude that the intellectual endowment of primitive man is in itself approximately equal to that of civilized man. Primitive man merely exercises his ability in a more restricted field; his horizon is essentially narrower because of his contentment under these limitations. This, of course, does not deny that there may have been a time, and, indeed, doubtless was one, when man occupied a lower intellectual plane and approximated more nearly to the animal state which preceded that of human beings. This earliest and lowest level of human development, however, is not accessible to us.

But what, now, may be said concerning the moral characteristics of primitive man? It is clear that we must here distinguish sharply between those tribes that have hitherto remained essentially unaffected by external influences and those that have for some time past eked out a meagre existence in their struggle with surrounding peoples of a higher culture. The primitive man who still lives uninfluenced by surrounding peoples--typical examples are, in general, the natural Veddahs of Ceylon and the inland tribes of the Malay Peninsula--presents an entirely different picture from that of the man who seeks in the face of difficulties to protect himself against his environment. In the case of the tribes of Ceylon and Malacca, the somewhat civilized mixed peoples constitute a sort of protective zone, in the former case against the Singhalese and Tamils, in the latter, against the Malays. These mixed peoples are despised, and therefore they themselves hesitate to enter into intercourse with the primitive tribes. Thus they offer an outer buttress against inpressing culture. The result is that these primitive peoples continue to live their old life essentially undisturbed. Now, the testimony of unprejudiced observers is unanimous in maintaining that primitive man is frank and honest, that lying is unknown to him, and that theft does not exist. He may, of course, be strongly moved by emotion, so that the man who disturbs the Veddah's marriage relation may be sure of a poisoned arrow, as may also the strange huntsman who encroaches unbidden upon his hunting-grounds. This reprisal is not based upon legal enactments--of such there are none; it is custom that allows this summary procedure. Many investigators have believed that these various characteristics exhibited by unmixed primitive culture indicate a high state of morality. In this they agree with Wilhelm Schmidt, for whom primitive men are the infant peoples of the world, in that they possess the innocence of childhood. It is not only man's moral outlook, however, but also his moral character, as this very illustration shows, that depends upon the environment in which he lives. Since the primitive man who lives undisturbed by external conditions has no occasion to conceal anything, his honesty and frankness ought scarcely to be counted to his particular credit; so far as theft is concerned, how can there be a thief where there is no property? It may, of course, happen that an individual takes the weapon of his companion for a short time and uses it. This action, however, is all the more permissible since each man makes his own bow and arrow. The same is true of clothing and articles of adornment. Thus, the rather negative morality of primitive man also has its origin in his limited wants, in the lack of any incentives to such action as we would call immoral. Such a positive situation, however, is, no doubt, afforded by the strict monogamy, which probably originated in the prehuman natural state and was thenceforth maintained.

Quite different is the moral picture of primitive man wherever he is at strife with surrounding peoples. Here, as was noted particularly by Emin Pasha and Stuhlmann in the case of the Negritos of the Upper Nile, the outstanding characteristics are, in the first place, fear, and then deception and malice. But can we wonder at this when we learn that the flesh of the Pygmies is especially prized by the anthropophagic Monbuttus of that region, and that the pursuit of this human game on the part of the latter is absolutely unrestrained, except by the fear of the arrows which the Pygmies shoot from behind ambush? Here, of course, innocence, frankness, and honesty are not to be expected; under these circumstances, theft also comes to be a justifiable act. Wherever the Negrito finds something to take, he takes it. The same is true of the South African Bushmen, who occupy a similarly precarious position with respect to the Bantus and Hottentots. The Bushmen are the most notorious thieves of South Africa. Of this we have striking evidence in the above-mentioned picture of the Bushman who glorifies and preserves to memory the theft of cattle. The Bushman is crafty and treacherous, and steals whenever there is opportunity. But what else could be expected, when we consider that, by killing off the game with their firearms, the Hottentots and Bantus deprive the Bushman of that which was once his source of food, and that they shoot the Bushman himself if he resists?

To summarize: The intelligence of primitive man is indeed restricted to a narrow sphere of activity. Within this sphere, however, his intelligence is not noticeably inferior to that of civilized man. His morality is dependent upon the environment in which he lives. Where he lives his life of freedom, one might almost call his state ideal, there being few motives to immoral conduct in our sense of the word. On the other hand, whenever primitive man is hunted down and hard pressed, he possesses no moral principles whatsoever. These traits are worth noting, if only because they show the tremendous influence which external life exerts, even under the simplest conditions, upon the development of the moral nature.

THE TOTEMIC AGE

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