entire religious system.
This is the original matter out of which have been constructed those beings of every sort which the religions of all times have consecrated and adored. The spirits, demons, genii and gods of every sort are only the concrete forms taken by this energy, or " potentiality," as Hewitt calls it,2 in individualizing itself, in fixing itself upon a certain determined object or point in space, or in centring around an ideal and legendary being, though one conceived as real by the popular imagination. A Dakota questioned by Miss Fletcher expressed this essential consubstanti-ability of all sacred things in language that is full of relief. " Every thing as it moves, now and then, here and there, makes stops. The bird as it flies stops in one place to make its nest, and in another to rest in its flight. A man when he goes forth stops when he wills. So the god has stopped. The sun, which is so bright and beautiful, is one place where he has stopped. The trees, the animals, are where he has stopped, and the Indian thinks of these places and sends his prayers to reach the place where the god has stopped and to win help and a blessing."3 In other words, the wakan (for this is what he was talking about) comes and goes through the world, and sacred things are the points upon which it alights. Here we are, for once, just as far from naturism as from animism. If the sun, the moon and the stars have been adored, they have not owed this honour to their intrinsic nature or their distinctive properties, but to the fact that they are thought to participate in this force which alone is able to give things a sacred character, and which is also found in a multitude of other beings, even the smallest. If the souls of the dead have been the object of rites, it is not because they are believed to be made out 01 some fluid and impalpable substance, nor is it because they resemble the shadow cast by a body or its
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reflection on a surface of water. Lightness and fluidity are not enough to confer sanctity ; they have been invested with this dignity only in so far as they contained within them something of this same force, the source of all religiosity.
We are now in a better condition to understand why it has been impossible to define religion by the idea of mythical personalities, gods or spirits ; it is because this way of representing religious things is in no way inherent in their nature. What we find at the origin and basis of religious thought are not determined and distinct objects and beings possessing a sacred character of themselves ; they are indefinite powers, anonymous forces, more or less numerous in different societies, and sometimes even reduced to a unity, and whose impersonality is strictly comparable to that of the physical forces whose manifestations the sciences of nature study. As for particular sacred things, they are only individualized forms of this essential principle. So it is not surprising that even in the religions where there are avowed divinities, there are rites having an efficient virtue in themselves, independently of all divine intervention. It is because this force may be attached to words that are pronounced or movements that are made just as well as to corporal substances ; the voice or the movements may serve as its vehicle, and it may produce its effects through their intermediacy, without the aid of any god or spirit. Even should it happen to concentrate itself especially in a rite, this will become a creator of divinities from that very fact.1 This is why there is Scarcely a divine personality who does not retain some impersonality. Those who represent it most clearly in a concrete and visible form, think of it, at the same time, as an abstract power which cannot be defined except by its own efficacy, or as a force spread out in space and which is contained, at least in part, in each of its effects. It is the power of producing rain or wind, crops or the light of day ; Zeus is in each of the raindrops which falls, just as Ceres is in each of the sheaves of the harvest.2 As a general rule, in fact, this efficacy is so imperfectly determined that the believer is able to form only a very vague notion of it. Moreover, it is this indecision which has made possible these
2Loc cit., p. 38.
3Rep. Peabody Museum, III, p. 276, n. (quoted by Dorsey, XIth Rep., p. 435).
1See above, p. 35.
2In the expressions such as Zti'-s vci or Ceres succidiiur, it is shown that this conception survived in Greece as well
as in Rome. In his GStlernamen, Usener has clearly shown that the primi{.ive gods of Greece and Rome were impersonal forces thought of only in terms ol their attributes.
syncretisms and duplications in the course of which gods are broken up, dismembered and confused in every way. Perhaps there is not a single religion in which the original mana, whether unique or multiform, has been
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resolved entirely into a clearly defined number of beings who are distinct and separate from each other ; each of them always retains a touch of impersonality, as it were, which enables it to enter into new combinations, not as the result of a simple survival but because it is the nature of religious forces to be unable to individualize themselves completely.
This conception, to which we have been led by the study of totemism alone, has the additional recommendation that many scholars have recently adopted it quite independently of one another, as a conclusion from very different sorts of studies. There is a tendency towards a spontaneous agreement on this point which should be remarked, for it is a presumption of objectivity.
As early as 1899, we pointed out the impossibility of making the idea of a mythical personality enter into the definition of religious phenomena.1 In 1900, Marrett showed the existence of a religious phase which he called preanimistic, in which the rites are addressed to impersonal forces like the Melanesian mana and the wakan of the Omaha and Dakota.2 However, Marrett did not go so far as to maintain that always and in every case the idea of a spirit is logically and chronologically posterior to that of mana and is derived from it; he even seemed disposed to admit that it has sometimes appeared independently and consequently, that religious thought flows from a double source.3 On the other hand, he conceived the mana as an inherent property of things, as an element of their appearance ;
for, according to him, this is simply the character which we attribute to everything out of the ordinary, and which inspires a sentiment of fear or admiration.4 This practically amounts to a return to the naturist theory.5
A little later, MM. Hubert and Mauss, while attempting to formulate a general theory of magic, established the fact that magic as a whole reposes on the notion of mana.6 The close kinship of the magic rite and the religious rite being known, it was even possible to foresee that the same theory should be applied to religion. This was sustained by Preuss in a series of
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articles in the Globus1 that same year. Relying chiefly upon facts taken from American civilizations, Preuss set out to prove that the ideas of the soul and spirit were not developed until after those of power and impersonal force, that the former are only a transformation of the latter, and that up to a relatively late date they retain the marks of their original impersonality. In fact, he shows that even in the advanced religions, they are represented in the form of vague emanations disengaging themselves automatically from the things in which they reside, and even tending to escape by all the ways that are open to them : the mouth, the nose and all the other openings of the body, the breath, the look, the word, etc. At the same time, Preuss pointed out their Protean forms and their extreme plasticity which permits them to give themselves successively and almost concurrently to the most varied uses.2 It is true that if we stick to the letter of the terminology employed
1Definition du pb.inom.ine rel-igieux, in Annie Social., II, pp. 14-16.
2Preanimistic Religion, in Folk-Lore, 1900, pp. 162—182.
3Ibid., p. 179. In a more recent work, The Conception of Mana (in Transactions of the Third International Congress for the History of Religions, II, pp. 54 ff.), Marrett tends to subordinate still further the animistic conception of mana, but his thought on this point remains hesitating and very reserved.
4Ibid., p. 168.
5This return of preanimisrn to naturism is still more marked in Clodd, Preanimistic Stages of Religion (Trans. Third Inter. Congress for the H. of Rel., J' P- 33).
6Theorie generate de la Magie, in Annee Social., VII, pp. 108 в.
1Der Ursprung der Religion und Kunst, in Globus. 1904, Vol. LXXXVI, pp. 321, 355. 37б, 3^ : i9°5, Vol. LXXXVII, pp. 333, 347. 380. 394, 413.
2Globus. LXXXVII, p. з81.
by this author, we may believe that for him the forces have a magic, not a religious nature : he calls them charms (Zauber, Zauberkrafte). But it is evident that in expressing himself thus, he does not intend to put them outside of religion ; for it is in the essentially religious rites that he shows their action, for example, in the great Mexican ceremonies.3 If he uses these expressions, it is undoubtedly because he knows no others which mark better the impersonality of these forces and the sort of mechanism with which they operate.
Thus this same idea tends to come to light on every side.4 The impression becomes more and more prevalent that even the most elementary mythological constructions are secondary products5 which cover over a system of beliefs, at once simpler and more obscure, vaguer and more essential, which form the solid foundations upon which the religious systems are built. It is this primitive foundation which our analysis of totemism has enabled us to reach. The various writers whose studies we have just mentioned arrived at this conclusion only through
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facts taken from very diverse religions, some of which even correspond to a civilization that is already far advanced : such is the case, for example, with the Mexican religions, of which Preuss makes great use. So it might be asked if this theory is equally applicable to the most simple religions. But since it is impossible to go lower than totemism, we are not exposed to this risk of error, and at the same time, we have an opportunity of finding the initial notion from which the ideas of wakan and mana are derived : this is the notion of the totemic principle.1
IV
But this notion is not only of primary importance because of the role it has played in the development of religious ideas ; it also has a lay aspect in which it is of interest for the history of scientific thought. It is the first form of the idea of force.
In fact, the wakan plays the same role in the world, as the Sioux conceives it, as the one played by the forces with which science explains the diverse phenomena of nature. This, however, does not mean that it is thought of as an exclusively physical energy ; on the contrary, in the next chapter we shall see that the elements going to make up this idea are taken from the most diverse realms. But this very compositeness of its nature enables it to be utilized as a universal principle of explanation. It is from it that all life comes ;2 "all life is wakan " ; and by this word life, we must understand everything that acts and reacts, that moves and is moved, in both the mineral and biological kingdoms. The wakan is the cause of all the movements which take place in the universe. We have even seen that the orenda of the Iroquois is " the efficient cause of all the phenomena and all the activities which are manifested around men." It is a power " inherent in all bodies and all things."3 It is the orenda which makes the wind blow, the sun lighten and heat the earth, or animals reproduce and which makes men strong, clever and intelligent. When the Iroquois says that the life of all nature is the product of the conflicts aroused between the unequally intense orenda of the different beings, he only expresses, in his own language, this modern idea that the world is a system
3He clearly opposes them to all influences of a profane nature (Globus, LXXXVI, p. 379a).
4It is found even in the recent theories of Frazer. For if this scholar denies to totemism all religious character, in order to make it a sort of magic, it is just because the forces which the totemic cult puts into play are impersonal like those employed by the magician. So Frazer recognizes the fundamental fact which we have just established. But he draws different conclusions because he recognizes religion only where there are mythical personalities.
5However, we do not take this word in the same sense as Preuss and Marrett. According to them, there was a time in religious evolution when men knew neither souls nor spirits : a preanimistic phase. But this hypothesis is very questionable : we shall discuss this point below (Bk. II, ch. viii and ix).
1On this same question, see an article of Alessandro Bruno, Sui fenomeni Wgico-religiosi delta communilu
primitive, in Rivista italiana di Sociologia, XII Year, Fasc. IV-V, pp. 568 ff., and an unpublished communication made by W. Bogoras to the XIV Congress of the Americanists, held at Stuttgart in 1904. This communication is analysed by Preuss in the Globus, LXXXVI, p. 201.
2" All things," says Miss Fletcher, " are filled with a common principle of life," Smiths. Rep. for 1897, p. 579.
3Hewitt, in American Anthropologist. 1902, p. 36.
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of forces limiting and containing each other and making an equilibrium.
The Melanesian attributes this same general efficacy to his mana. It is owing to his mana that a man succeeds in hunting or fighting, that gardens give a good return or that flocks prosper. If an arrow strikes its mark, it is because it is charged with mana; it is the same cause which makes a net catch fish well, or a canoe ride well on the sea,1 etc. It is true that if certain phrases of Codrington are taken literally, mana should be the cause to which is attributed " everything which is beyond the ordinary power of men, outside the common processes of nature."2 But from the very examples which he cites, it is quite evident that the sphere of the mana is really much more extended. In reality, it serves to explain usual and everyday phenomena; there is nothing superhuman or supernatural in the fact that a ship sails or a hunter catches game, etc. However, among these events of daily life, there are some so insignificant and familiar that they pass unperceived : they are not noticed and consequently no need is felt of explaining them. The concept of mana is applied only to those that are important enough to cause reflection, and to awaken a minimum of interest and curiosity ; but they are not marvellous for all that. And what is true of the mana as well as the orenda and wakan, may be said equally well of the totemic principle. It is through this that the life of the men of the clan and the animals or plants of the totemic species, as well as all the things which are classified under the totem and partake of its nature, is manifested.
So the idea of force is of religious origin. It is from religion that it has been borrowed, first by philosophy, then by the sciences. This has already been foreseen by Comte and this is why he made metaphysics the heir of " theology." But he concluded from this that the idea of force is destined to disappear from science ; for, owing to its mystic origins, he refused it all objective value. But we are going to show that, on the contrary, religious forces are real, howsoever imperfect the symbols may be, by the aid of which they are thought of. From this it will follow that the same is true of the concept of force in general.
CHAPTER VII
ORIGINS OF THESE BELIEFS—end
Origin of the Idea of the Totemic Principle or Mana
THE proposition established in the preceding chapter determines the terms in which the problem of the origins of totemism should be posed. Since totemism is everywhere dominated by the idea of a quasi-divine principle, imminent in certain categories of men and things and thought of under the form of an animal or vegetable, the explanation of this religion is essentially the explanation of this belief ; to arrive at this, we must seek to learn how men have been led to construct this idea and out of what materials they have constructed it.
It is obviously not out of the sensations which the things serving as totems are able to arouse in the mind ; we have shown that these things are frequently insignificant. The lizard, the caterpillar, the rat, the ant, the frog, the turkey, the bream-fish, the plum-tree, the cockatoo, etc., to cite only those names which appear frequently in the lists of Australian totems, are not of a nature to produce upon men these great and strong impressions which in a way resemble religious emotions and which impress a sacred character upon the objects they create. It is true that this is not the case with the stars and the great atmospheric phenomena, which have, on the contrary, all that is necessary to strike the imagination forcibly ; but as a matter of fact, these serve only very exceptionally as totems. It is even probable that they were very slow in taking this office.1 So it is not the intrinsic nature of the thing whose name the clan bears that marked it out to become the object of a cult. Also, if the sentiments which it inspired were really the determining cause of the
1The Melanssians, pp. 118-120.
2Ibid., p. 119.
1 See above, p.103.
totemic rites and beliefs, it would be the pre-eminently sacred thing ; the animals or plants employed as totems would play an eminent part in the religious life. But we know that the
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centre of the cult is actually elsewhere. It is the figurative representations of this plant or animal and the totemic emblems and symbols of every sort, which have the greatest sanctity ; so it is in them that is found the source of that religious nature, of which the real objects represented by these emblems receive only a reflection.
Thus the totem is before all a symbol, a material expression of something else.1 But of
what?
From the analysis to which we have been giving our attention, it is evident that it expresses and symbolizes two different sorts of things. In the first place, it is tlie outward and visible form of what we have called the totemic principle or god. But it is also the symbol of the determined society called the clan. It is its flag; it is the sign by which each clan distinguishes itself from the others, the visible mark of its personality, a mark borne by everything which is a part of the clan under any title whatsoever, men, beasts or things. So if it is at once the symbol of the god and of the society, is that not because the god and the society are only one ? How could the emblem of the group have been able to become the figure of this quasi-divinity, if the group and the divinity were two distinct realities? The god of the clan, the totemic principle, can therefore be nothing else than the clan itself, personified and represented to the imagination under the visible form of the animal or vegetable which serves as totem.
But how has this apotheosis been possible, and how did it happen to take place in this fashion?
II
In a general way, it is unquestionable that a society has all that is necessary to arouse the sensation of the divine in minds, merely by the power that it has over them; for to its members it is what a god is to his worshippers. In fact, a god is, first of all, a being whom men think of as superior to themselves, and upon whom they feel that they depend. Whether it be a conscious personality, such as Zeus or Jahveh, or merely abstract forces such as those in play in totemism, the worshipper, in the one case as in the other, believes himself held to certain manners of acting which are imposed upon him by the nature of the sacred principle with which he feels that he is in communion. Now society also gives us the sensation of a perpetual dependence. Since it has a nature which is peculiar to itself and different from our individual nature, it pursues ends which are likewise special to it; but, as it cannot attain them except through our intermediacy, it imperiously demands our aid. It requires that, forgetful of our own interests, we make ourselves its servitors, and it submits us to every sort of inconvenience, privation and sacrifice, without which social life would be impossible. It is because of this that at every instant we are obliged to submit ourselves to rules of conduct and of thought which we have neither made nor desired, and which are sometimes even contrary to our most fundamental inclinations and instincts.
Even if society were unable to obtain these concessions and sacrifices from us except by a material constraint, it might awaken in us only the idea of a physical force to which we must give way of necessity, instead of that of a moral power such as religions adore. But as a matter of fact, the empire which it holds over consciences is due much less to the physical supremacy of which it has the privilege than to the moral authority with which it is invested. If we yield to its orders, it is not merely because it is strong enough to triumph over our resistance ; it is primarily because it is the object of a venerable respect.
We say that an object, whether individual or collective, inspires respect when the representation expressing it in the mind is gifted with such a force that it automatically causes or
1 Pickler, in the little work above mentioned, had already expressed, in a slightly dialectical manner, the sentiment that this is what the totem essentially is.