SPIRITS AND GODS AS IDEAS

Chapter 9

SPIRITS AND GODS AS IDEAS

34 min

When we come to the idea of the soul, we have left the circle of purely impersonal forces. But above the soul the Australian religions already recognize mythical personalities of a superior order: spirits, civilizing heroes and even gods who are properly so-called. While it will be unnecessary to enter into the detail of the mythologies, we must at least seek the form in which these three categories of spiritual beings are presented in Australia, and the way in which they are connected with the whole religious system.

When we come to the idea of the soul, we move beyond purely impersonal forces. But Australian religions also recognize mythical beings above the soul: spirits, civilizing heroes, and even gods in the true sense. We do not need to examine these mythologies in detail. But we must at least ask how these three categories of spiritual beings appear in Australia. We must also ask how they are connected to the religious system as a whole.

I

I

A soul is not a spirit. In fact, it is shut up in a determined organism; though it may leave it at certain moments, it is ordinarily a prisoner there. It definitely escapes only at death, and we have already seen the difficulties under which the separation is accomplished. A spirit, on the contrary, though often tied by the closest bonds to some particular object, such as a spring, a rock, a tree, a star, etc., and though residing there by preference, may go away at will and lead an independent existence in free space. So it has a more extended circle of action. It can act upon the individuals who approach it or whom it approaches. The soul, on the contrary, has almost no influence except over the body it animates; it is very exceptional that it succeeds in influencing outside objects during the course of its terrestrial life.

A soul is not a spirit. A soul is confined to a particular organism. Though it may leave the organism at certain moments, it is usually a prisoner there. It escapes for good only at death, and we have already seen how difficult that separation is. A spirit, by contrast, may be closely bound to a particular object, such as a spring, a rock, a tree, or a star. Although it prefers to live there, it can leave at will and exist independently in open space. So a spirit has a wider range of action. It can act on individuals who approach it or whom it approaches. A soul, by contrast, has almost no influence except over the body it gives life to. During its life on earth, it only very rarely manages to influence outside objects.

But if the soul does not have the distinctive characteristics of the spirit, it acquires them, at least in part, at death. In fact, when it has been disincarnated, so long as it does not descend into a body again, it has the same liberty of movement as a spirit. Of course, after the rites of mourning have been accomplished, it is thought to go to the land of souls, but before this it remains about the tomb for a rather long time. Also, even after it has definitely departed, it is believed to prowl about in the brush near the camp. It is generally represented as a rather beneficent being, especially for the surviving members of its family; we have seen that the soul of the father comes to aid the growth of his children or his grandchildren. But it also happens sometimes that it shows signs of a veritable cruelty; everything depends upon its humour and the manner in which it is treated by the living. So it is recommended, especially to women and children, not to venture outside of the camp during the night so as not to expose oneself to dangerous encounters.

But if the soul does not have the distinctive traits of a spirit, it acquires some of them at death. Once it has left the body, it can move as freely as a spirit, as long as it does not enter another body. Of course, after the mourning rites are complete, the soul is thought to go to the land of souls. But before that, it remains near the tomb for quite a long time. Even after it has left for good, it is believed to prowl in the brush near the camp. The soul is generally portrayed as a fairly helpful being, especially to surviving family members. We have seen that a father's soul helps his children or grandchildren grow. But a soul can also sometimes show real cruelty. Everything depends on its mood and how the living treat it. So people, especially women and children, are advised not to venture outside the camp at night, to avoid dangerous encounters.

Roth, Superstition, Magic, etc., §§ 65, 68. Spencer and Gillen, Nat. Tr., pp. 514, 516.

Spencer and Gillen, Nat. Tr., pp. 521, 515. Dawson, Austral. Aborig., p. 58. Roth, op. cit., § 67.

Spencer and Gillen, Nat. Tr., p. 517.

However, a ghost is not a real spirit. In the first place, it generally has only a limited power of action; also, it does not have a definite province. It is a vagabond, upon whom no determined task is incumbent, for the effect of death has been to put it outside of all regular forms; as regards the living, it is a sort of a exile. A spirit, on the other hand, always has a power of a certain sort and it is by this that it is defined; it is set over a certain order of cosmic or social phenomena; it has a more or less precise function to fulfil in the system of the universe.

However, a ghost is not a true spirit. First, a ghost generally has only limited power to act. It also has no defined domain. It is a wanderer with no assigned task, because death has placed it outside all regular structures. Among the living, it is a kind of exile. A spirit, on the other hand, always has a particular kind of power that defines it. It has authority over a particular set of cosmic or social phenomena. It has a more or less precise function to fulfill in the system of the universe.

But there are some souls which satisfy this double condition and which are consequently spirits, in the proper sense of the word. These are the souls of the mythical personages whom popular imagination has placed at the beginning of time, the Altjirangamitjina or the men of the Alcheringa among the Arunta; the Mura-mura among the tribes of Lake Eyre; the Muk-Kurnai among the Kurnai, etc. In one sense, they are still souls, for they are believed to have formerly animated bodies from which they separated themselves at a certain moment. But even when they led a terrestrial life, they already had, as we have seen, exceptional powers; they had a mana superior to that of ordinary men, and they have kept it. Also, they are charged with definite functions.

But some souls meet both conditions and are therefore spirits in the proper sense of the word. These are the souls of mythical figures whom popular imagination has placed at the beginning of time. They include the Altjirangamitjina, or men of the Alcheringa, among the Arunta, the Mura-mura among the tribes of Lake Eyre, and the Muk-Kurnai among the Kurnai. In one sense, they are still souls. They are believed to have once inhabited bodies, from which they separated at a certain moment. But even during their lives on earth, they already had exceptional powers, as we have seen. They had more mana than ordinary people, and they have kept it. They also have specific functions.

In the first place, whether we accept the version of Spencer and Gillen or that of Strehlow, it is to them that the care of assuring the periodical recruiting of the clan falls. They have charge of the phenomena of conception.

First, whether we accept Spencer and Gillen's version or Strehlow's, they are responsible for regularly replenishing the clan. They are in charge of conception.

Even when the conception has been accomplished, the task of the ancestor is not yet completed. It is his duty to guard over the new-born child. Later, when the child has become a man, he accompanies him in the hunt, brings game to him, warns him by dreams of the dangers he may run, protects him against his enemies, etc. On this point, Strehlow is entirely in accord with Spencer and Gillen. It is true that someone may ask how it is possible, according to the version of these latter, for the ancestor to fulfil this function; for, since he reincarnates himself at the moment of conception, it seems as though he should be confounded with the soul of the child and should therefore be unable to protect it from without. But the fact is that he does not reincarnate himself entirely; he merely duplicates himself. One part of him enters the body of the woman and fertilizes her; another part continues to exist outside and, under the special name of Arumburinga, fulfils the office of guardian genius.

Even after conception, the ancestor’s task is not complete. He must watch over the newborn child. Later, when the child becomes a man, the ancestor accompanies him on hunts and brings him game. He warns him of possible dangers through dreams, protects him from enemies, and so on. On this point, Strehlow agrees entirely with Spencer and Gillen. Someone may ask, however, how the ancestor can do this according to Spencer and Gillen’s account. Since the ancestor reincarnates himself at conception, he seems to become one with the child’s soul. He would therefore be unable to protect the child from outside. But the ancestor does not reincarnate himself entirely. He merely duplicates himself. One part enters the woman’s body and fertilizes her. Another part continues to exist outside and serves as a guardian spirit, under the special name Arumburinga.

Strehlow, II, p. 76 and n. 1; Spencer and Gillen, Nat. Tr., pp. 514, 516.

Spencer and Gillen, Nat. Tr., p. 513.

Thus we see how great a kinship there is between this ancestral spirit and the genius of the Latins or the δαίμων of the Greeks. The identification of function is complete. In fact, at first the genius is the one who begets, qui gignit; he expresses and personifies the powers of generation. But at the same time, he is the protector and director of the particular individual to whose person he is attached. He is finally confused with the personality itself of this individual; he represents the totality of the proclivities and tendencies which characterize him and give him a distinctive appearance among other men. Hence come the well-known expressions indulgere genio, defraudere genium with the sense of to follow one's natural temperament. At bottom, the genius is another form or double of the soul of the individual. This is proved by the partial synonomy of genius and manes. The manes is the genius after death; but it is also all that survives of the dead man, that is to say, his soul. In the same way, the soul of the Arunta and the ancestral spirit which serves as his genius are only two different aspects of one and the same being.

We can see how closely this ancestral spirit resembles the Latin genius and the Greek δαίμων. Their functions are identical. At first, the genius is the one who begets, qui gignit. He expresses and personifies the powers of generation. But he is also the protector and guide of the individual to whom he is attached. Eventually, he becomes indistinguishable from that individual’s personality. He represents all the inclinations and tendencies that characterize the individual and distinguish him from other people. This is the source of the well-known expressions indulgere genio and defraudere genium, meaning to follow one's natural temperament. At its core, the genius is another form, or double, of the individual’s soul. This is shown by the partial overlap in meaning between genius and manes. The manes is the genius after death. But it is also all that survives of the dead man, that is, his soul. In the same way, the soul of the Arunta and the ancestral spirit serving as his genius are two different aspects of one and the same being.

On this question, see Negrioli, Dei Genii presso i Romani. See also the articles Daimon and Genius in the Dict. of Antiq., and Preller, Romische Mythologie, II, pp. 195 ff.

Negrioli, ibid., p. 4.

Ibid., p. 8.

Ibid., p. 7.

Ibid., p. 11. Compare Samter, Der Ursprung der Larencultus, in Archiv f. Religions-wissenschaft, 1907, pp. 368-393.

But it is not only in relation to persons that the ancestor has a definite situation; he also has one in relation to things. Though he is believed to have his real residence under the ground, they think that he is always haunting the place where his nanja-tree or rock is, or the water-hole which was spontaneously formed at the exact spot where he disappeared into the ground, having terminated his first existence. As this tree or rock is believed to represent the body of the hero, they imagine that the soul itself is constantly coming back there, and lives there more or less permanently; it is by the presence of this soul that they explain the religious respect inspired by these localities. No one can break the branch of a nanja-tree without a risk of falling sick. "Formerly the act of breaking it down or injuring it was punished with death. An animal or bird taking refuge there could not be killed. Even the surrounding bushes had to be respected: the grass could not be burned, the rocks also had to be treated with respect. It was forbidden to remove them or break them." As this sacred character is attributed to the ancestor, he appears as the spirit of this tree or rock, of this water-hole or spring. If the spring is thought of as having some connection with rain, he will become a spirit of rain. Thus, the same souls which serve as protecting geniuses for men also fulfil cosmic functions at the same time. It is undoubtedly in this sense that we must understand the text of Roth where he says that in northern Queensland, the spirits of nature are the souls of the dead who have chosen to live in the forests or caves.

But the ancestor has a definite place not only in relation to people, but also in relation to things. He is believed to live underground. Yet people also believe he always haunts the place where his nanja-tree or rock stands. Or he haunts the water-hole that formed spontaneously at the exact spot where he disappeared underground, ending his first existence. The tree or rock is believed to represent the hero’s body. So people imagine that his soul constantly returns there and lives there more or less permanently. They explain the religious respect these places inspire by the presence of his soul. No one can break a branch of a nanja-tree without risking illness. “In the past, breaking it down or damaging it was punishable by death. An animal or bird that took refuge there could not be killed. Even the surrounding bushes had to be respected. The grass could not be burned, and the rocks also had to be treated with respect. It was forbidden to remove or break them.” Because this sacred character is attributed to the ancestor, he appears as the spirit of the tree or rock, or of the water-hole or spring. If the spring is thought to have some connection with rain, he becomes a spirit of rain. Thus, the same souls that serve as guardian spirits for people also perform cosmic functions. This is undoubtedly how we must understand Roth’s statement about northern Queensland. He says that the spirits of nature there are the souls of the dead who have chosen to live in forests or caves.

Schulze, loc. cit., p. 237.

Strehlow, I, p. 5. Compare Spencer and Gillen, Nat. Tr., p. 133, and Gason, in Curr, II, p. 69.

See Howitt, Nat. Tr., p. 482, for the case of a Mura-mura considered the spirit of certain hot springs.

Nor. Tr., pp. 313 f. Mathews, Journ. of the Roy. Soc. of N.S. Wales, XXXVIII, p. 351. Among the Dieri, there is also a Mura-mura whose function is to produce rain (Howitt, Nat. Tr., pp. 798 f.).

Roth, Superstition, etc., § 67. See also Dawson, p. 59.

So we have here some spiritual beings that are different from the wandering souls with no definite powers. Strehlow calls them gods; but this expression is inexact, at least in the great majority of cases. If it were true, then in a society like the Arunta where each one has his protecting ancestor, there would be as many or more gods than there are individuals. It would merely introduce confusion into our terminology to give the name of god to a sacred being with only one worshipper. It may be, of course, that the figure of the ancestor grows to a point where it resembles a real divinity. Among the Warramunga, as we have already pointed out, the clan as a whole is thought to be descended from one sole and unique ancestor. It is easily seen how this collective ancestor might, under certain circumstances, become the object of a collective devotion. To choose a notable example, this is what has happened to the snake Wollunqua. This mythical beast, from whom the clan of the same name is held to be descended, continues to live, they believe, in water-holes which are therefore surrounded with a religious respect. Thus it becomes the object of a cult which the clan celebrates collectively: through determined rites, they attempt to please him and to win his favours, and they address to him all sorts of prayers, etc. So we may say that he is like a god of the clan. But this is a very exceptional case, or even, according to Spencer and Gillen, a unique one. Normally, the word "spirits" is the only one suitable for designating these ancestral personages.

So here we have spiritual beings that differ from wandering souls with no definite powers. Strehlow calls them gods. But this term is inaccurate, at least in the great majority of cases. If it were accurate, a society like the Arunta would have at least as many gods as individuals, since each person has a protecting ancestor. Calling a sacred being with only one worshipper a god would merely confuse our terminology. Of course, an ancestor figure may grow until it resembles a true deity. Among the Warramunga, as we have already noted, the whole clan is believed to descend from a single ancestor. It is easy to see how this shared ancestor might, under certain circumstances, become the object of collective devotion. A notable example is the snake Wollunqua. The clan of the same name is believed to descend from this mythical creature. Its members believe that it still lives in water holes, which they therefore treat with religious respect. So the clan collectively celebrates a cult devoted to Wollunqua. Through specific rites, clan members try to please him and win his favor, and they offer him all kinds of prayers, and so on. We may therefore say that he is like a god of the clan. But this is a very exceptional case, or even, according to Spencer and Gillen, a unique one. Normally, "spirits" is the only suitable word for these ancestral figures.

Strehlow, I, pp. 2 ff.

See above, p. 249.

Nor. Tr., ch. vii.

As to the manner in which this conception has been formed, we may say that it is evident from what has preceded.

We can say that how this conception formed is clear from what has already been said.

As we have already shown, the existence of individual souls, when once admitted, cannot be understood unless one imagines an original supply of fundamental souls at the origin of things, from which all the others were derived. Now these architype souls had to be conceived as containing within them the source of all religious efficacy; for, since the imagination does not go beyond them, it is from them and only from them that all sacred things are believed to come, both the instruments of the cult, the members of the clan and the animals of the totemic species. They incarnate all the sacredness diffused in the whole tribe and the whole world, and so they are attributed powers noticeably superior to those enjoyed by the simple souls of men. Moreover, time by itself increases and reinforces the sacred character of things. A very ancient churinga inspires much more respect than a new one, and is supposed to have more virtues. The sentiments of veneration of which it has been the object during the series of successive generations who have handled it are, as it were, accumulated in it. For the same reason, the personages who for centuries have been the subject of myths respectfully passed on from mouth to mouth, and periodically put into action by the rites, could not fail to take a very especial place in the popular imagination.

As we have already shown, once we accept that individual souls exist, we must imagine an original supply of fundamental souls. These souls existed at the beginning of things, and all other souls came from them. These archetypal souls had to be imagined as containing the source of all religious power. The imagination goes no further back than these souls. So all sacred things are believed to come from them alone. These include the objects used in worship, the members of the clan, and the animals of the totemic species. The archetypal souls embody all the sacredness spread throughout the tribe and the world. They are therefore believed to have noticeably greater powers than ordinary human souls. Moreover, time alone increases and strengthens the sacred character of things. A very old churinga inspires much more respect than a new one. It is also thought to have more powers. Successive generations have handled and revered the churinga. Their feelings of reverence seem to have accumulated in it. For the same reason, certain figures had to take a very special place in the popular imagination. For centuries, myths about these figures were passed on respectfully by word of mouth and regularly acted out in rites.

Spencer and Gillen, Nor. Tr., p. 277.

But how does it happen that, instead of remaining outside of the organized society, they have become regular members of it?

But how did they become regular members of organized society instead of remaining outside it?

This is because each individual is the double of an ancestor. Now when two beings are related as closely as this, they are naturally conceived as incorporated together; since they participate in the same nature, it seems as though that which affects one ought to affect the other as well. Thus the group of mythical ancestors became attached to the society of the living; the same interests and the same passions were attributed to each; they were regarded as associates. However, as the former had a higher dignity than the latter, this association takes, in the public mind, the form of an agreement between superiors and inferiors, between patrons and clients, benefactors and recipients. Thus comes this curious idea of a protecting genius who is attached to each individual.

This is because each individual is the double of an ancestor. When two beings are so closely related, people naturally think of them as joined together. Because they share the same nature, it seems that whatever affects one should also affect the other. In this way, the group of mythical ancestors became attached to the society of the living. People attributed the same interests and passions to both groups and regarded them as associates. But the ancestors had a higher dignity than the living. So people saw this association as an agreement between superiors and inferiors, patrons and clients, benefactors and recipients. From this comes the curious idea of a protecting genius attached to each individual.

The question of how this ancestor came to have relations not only with men, but also with things, may appear more embarrassing; for, at the first glance, we do not see what connection there can be between a personage of this sort and a rock or tree. But a fact which we owe to Strehlow furnishes us with a solution of this problem, which is at least probable.

The question of how this ancestor came to be connected not only with people but also with things may seem more puzzling. At first glance, we see no connection between such a figure and a rock or tree. But a fact reported by Strehlow offers a solution to this problem that is at least plausible.

These trees and rocks are not situated at any point in the tribal territory, but, for the most part, they are grouped around the sanctuaries, called ertnatulunga by Spencer and Gillen and arknanaua by Strehlow, where the churinga of the clan is kept. We know the respect with which these localities are enhaloed from the mere fact that the most precious instruments of the cult are there. Each of these spreads sanctity all about it. It is for this reason that the neighbouring trees and rocks appear sacred, that it is forbidden to destroy or harm them, and that all violence used against them is a sacrilege. This sacred character is really due to a simple phenomenon of psychic contagiousness; but in order to explain it, the native must admit that these different objects have relations with the different beings in whom he sees the source of all religious power, that is to say, with the ancestors of the Alcheringa. Hence comes the system of myths of which we have spoken. They imagined that each ertnatulunga marked the spot where a group of ancestors entered into the ground. The mounds or trees which covered the ground were believed to represent their bodies. But as the soul retains, in a general way, a sort of affinity for the body in which it dwelt, they were naturally led to believe that these ancestral souls continued to frequent these places where their material envelope remained. So they were located in the rocks, the trees or the water-holes. Thus each of them, though remaining attached to some determined individual, became transformed into a sort of genius loci and fulfilled its functions.

These trees and rocks are not found just anywhere in the tribal territory. For the most part, they are grouped around sanctuaries where the clan’s churinga is kept. Spencer and Gillen call these sanctuaries ertnatulunga, and Strehlow calls them arknanaua. We know that these places are surrounded by reverence simply because they hold the most precious instruments of the cult. Each instrument spreads sanctity all around it. For this reason, the nearby trees and rocks seem sacred. It is forbidden to destroy or harm them, and any violence against them is sacrilege. This sacred character is really due to a simple process of psychic contagion. But to explain it, the native must assume that these objects are connected with the beings he sees as the source of all religious power: the ancestors of the Alcheringa. This gives rise to the system of myths we have discussed. People imagined that each ertnatulunga marked the spot where a group of ancestors entered the ground. They believed that the mounds or trees covering the ground represented the ancestors’ bodies. But a soul generally retains a kind of affinity with the body it once inhabited. So people were naturally led to believe that the ancestral souls continued to visit the places where their material bodies remained. The souls were therefore located in the rocks, trees, or water-holes. Thus each soul, though still attached to a particular individual, became a kind of genius loci and performed its functions.

Strehlow, I, p. 5.

Some nanja-trees and rocks, however, are not near the ertnatulunga. They are scattered across different parts of the tribal territory. These are said to be places where an isolated ancestor disappeared into the ground, lost a limb, shed blood, or lost a churinga that became a tree or rock. But these totemic sites are only of secondary importance. Strehlow calls them kleinere Totemplätze (I, pp. 4-5). They may have acquired this character only by analogy with the main totemic centres. For one reason or another, some trees and rocks resemble those near an ertnatulunga and inspire similar feelings. So the myth formed about the trees and rocks near an ertnatulunga was extended to these other trees and rocks.

The conceptions thus elucidated enable us to understand a form of totemism which we have left unexplained up to the present: this is individual totemism.

The ideas we have clarified help us understand a form of totemism we have not yet explained: individual totemism.

An individual totem is defined, in its essence, by the two following characteristics: (1) it is a being in an animal or vegetable form whose function is to protect an individual; (2) the fate of this individual and that of his patron are closely united: all that touches the latter is sympathetically communicated to the former. Now the ancestral spirits of which we have just been speaking answer to this same definition. They also belong, at least in part, to the animal or vegetable kingdoms. They, too, are protecting geniuses. Finally, a sympathetic bond unites each individual to his protecting ancestor. In fact, the nanja-tree, representing the mystical body of this ancestor, cannot be destroyed without the man's feeling himself menaced. It is true that this belief is losing its force to-day, but Spencer and Gillen have observed it, and in any case, they are of the opinion that formerly it was quite general.

An individual totem has two essential characteristics: (1) it is a being in animal or plant form that protects an individual; (2) the fate of the individual and that of the protector are closely linked. Everything that happens to the protector is sympathetically communicated to the individual. The ancestral spirits just discussed fit the same definition. They, too, belong at least partly to the animal or plant kingdoms. They, too, are protective spirits. Finally, a sympathetic bond unites each individual with his protective ancestor. The nanja-tree represents the mystical body of this ancestor. The tree cannot be destroyed without the man feeling threatened. It is true that this belief is losing its force today, but Spencer and Gillen have observed it. In any case, they believe that the belief was once quite general.

Nat. Tr., p. 139.

The identity of these two conceptions is found even in their details.

These two conceptions are identical even in their details.

The ancestral souls reside in trees or rocks which are considered sacred. Likewise, among the Euahlayi, the spirit of the animal serving as individual totem is believed to inhabit a tree or stone. This tree or stone is sacred; no one may touch it except the proprietor of the totem; when it is a stone or rock, this interdiction is still absolute. The result is that they are veritable places of refuge.

Ancestral souls live in trees or rocks that are considered sacred. Similarly, among the Euahlayi, the spirit of the animal that serves as an individual’s totem is believed to live in a tree or stone. This tree or stone is sacred. No one may touch it except the owner of the totem. When it is a stone or rock, this prohibition remains absolute. As a result, these places are true places of refuge.

Parker, The Euahlayi, p. 21. The tree used for this purpose is generally one of the individual's sub-totems. They say they choose it because it belongs to the same family as the individual and should therefore be more willing to help him (ibid., p. 29).

Ibid., p. 36.

Finally, we have seen that the individual soul is only another aspect of the ancestral spirit, according to Strehlow, this serves after a fashion, as a second self. Likewise, following an expression of Mrs. Parker, the individual totem of the Euahlayi, called Yunbeai, is the alter ego of the individual: "The soul of a man is in his Yunbeai and the soul of his Yunbeai is in him." So at bottom, it is one soul in two bodies. The kinship of these two notions is so close that they are sometimes expressed by one and the same word. This is the case in Melanesia and in Polynesia: atai in the island Mota, tamaniu in the island Aurora, and talegia in Motlaw all designate both the soul of the individual and his personal totem. It is the same with aitu in Samoa. This is because the individual totem is merely the outward and visible form of the ego or the personality, of which the soul is the inward and invisible form.

Finally, we have seen that the individual soul is only another aspect of the ancestral spirit. According to Strehlow, the ancestral spirit serves, in a way, as a second self. Similarly, Mrs. Parker describes the individual totem of the Euahlayi, called Yunbeai, as the individual’s alter ego: "The soul of a man is in his Yunbeai and the soul of his Yunbeai is in him." So, at bottom, there is one soul in two bodies. These two ideas are so closely related that they are sometimes expressed by the same word. This is the case in Melanesia and Polynesia. atai on the island of Mota, tamaniu on the island of Aurora, and talegia in Motlaw all mean both the individual’s soul and personal totem. The same is true of aitu in Samoa. This is because the individual totem is simply the outward and visible form of the ego or personality. The soul is its inward and invisible form.

Strehlow, II, p. 81.

Parker, op. cit., p. 21.

Codrington, The Melanesians, pp. 249-253.

Turner, Samoa, p. 17.

These are Codrington's exact words (p. 251).

Thus the individual totem has all the essential characteristics of the protecting ancestor and fills the same rôle: this is because it has the same origin and proceeds from the same idea.

The individual totem has all the essential characteristics of the protective ancestor and plays the same role. This is because the individual totem has the same origin and comes from the same idea.

Each of them, in fact, consists in a duplication of the soul. The totem, as the ancestor, is the soul of the individual, but externalized and invested with powers superior to those it is believed to possess while within the organism. Now this duplication is the result of a psychological necessity; for it only expresses the nature of the soul which, as we have seen, is double. In one sense, it is ours: it expresses our personality. But at the same time, it is outside of us, for it is only the reaching into us of a religious force which is outside of us. We cannot confound ourselves with it completely, for we attribute to it an excellence and a dignity by which it rises far above us and our empirical individuality. So there is a whole part of ourselves which we tend to project into the outside. This way of thinking of ourselves is so well established in our nature that we cannot escape it, even when we attempt to regard ourselves without having recourse to any religious symbols. Our moral consciousness is like a nucleus about which the idea of the soul forms itself; yet when it speaks to us, it gives the effect of an outside power, superior to us, which gives us our law and judges us, but which also aids and sustains us. When we have it on our side, we feel ourselves to be stronger against the trials of life, and better assured of triumphing over them, just as the Australian who, when trusting in his ancestor or his personal totem, feels himself more valiant against his enemies. So there is something objective at the basis of these conceptions, whether we have in mind the Roman genius, the individual totem, or the Alcheringa ancestor; and this is why they have survived, in various forms, up to the present day. Everything goes just as if we really had two souls; one which is within us, or rather, which is us; the other which is above us, and whose function it is to control and assist the first one. Frazer thought that the individual totem was an external soul; but he believed that this exteriority was the result of an artifice and a magic ruse. In reality, it is implied in the very constitution of the idea of the soul.

Each of them, in fact, consists of a doubling of the soul. The totem, as the ancestor, is the individual’s soul placed outside the individual. It is given greater powers than it is believed to possess within the body. This doubling results from a psychological necessity. It simply expresses the nature of the soul, which, as we have seen, is dual. In one sense, the soul is ours: it expresses our personality. But at the same time, it is outside us. It is a religious force outside us that reaches into us. We cannot identify ourselves completely with the soul. We attribute to it an excellence and dignity that raise it far above us and our individual selves as we experience them. So there is a whole part of ourselves that we tend to project into the outside world. This way of thinking about ourselves is so firmly rooted in our nature that we cannot escape it. We cannot escape it even when we try to think about ourselves without using religious symbols. Our moral consciousness is like a core around which the idea of the soul takes shape. Yet when our moral consciousness speaks to us, it feels like an outside power, superior to us. This power gives us our law and judges us, but it also helps and supports us. When our moral consciousness is on our side, we feel stronger against the trials of life. We also feel more certain that we will overcome them. In the same way, an Australian who trusts in his ancestor or his personal totem feels braver against his enemies. So there is something objective at the basis of these ideas. This is true whether we are thinking of the Roman genius, the individual totem, or the Alcheringa ancestor. This is why these ideas have survived in various forms up to the present day. Everything happens as if we really had two souls. One is within us, or rather, is us. The other is above us, and its function is to control and help the first. Frazer thought that the individual totem was an external soul. But he believed that its location outside the person resulted from a contrivance and a magical trick. In reality, the idea of the soul itself implies that the soul is outside the person.

The close connection between the soul, the guardian genius, and a person's moral conscience is especially clear among certain peoples of Indonesia. "One of the seven souls of the Tobabatak is buried with the placenta; though preferring to live in this place, it may leave it to warn the individual or to manifest its approbation when he does well. So in one sense, it plays the rôle of a moral conscience. However, its communications are not confined to the domain of moral facts. It is called the younger brother of the soul, as the placenta is called the younger brother of the child.... In war, it inspires the man with courage to march against the enemy" (Warneck, Der bataksche Ahnen und Geistercult, in Allg. Missionszeitschrift, Berlin, 1904. p. 10. Cf. Kruijt, Het Animisme in den indischen Archipel, p. 25).

We still need to investigate why, after a certain point in evolution, the soul was duplicated as an individual totem rather than a protecting ancestor. Perhaps this question is of ethnological rather than sociological interest. However, we can suggest how this substitution probably took place.

II

II

The spirits of which we have just been speaking are essentially benefactors. Of course they punish a man if he does not treat them in a fitting manner; but it is not their function to work evil.

The spirits we have just discussed are essentially benefactors. Of course, they punish a man if he does not treat them properly. But their role is not to cause harm.

For example, see Strehlow, II, p. 82.

However, a spirit is in itself just as capable of doing evil as good. This is why we find a class of evil geniuses forming itself naturally, in opposition to these auxiliary and protecting spirits, which enables men to explain the permanent evils that they have to suffer, their nightmares and illnesses, whirlwinds and tempests, etc. Of course this is not saying that all these human miseries have appeared as things too abnormal to be explained in any way except by supernatural forces; but it is saying that these forces are thought of under a religious form. As it is a religious principle which is considered the source of life, so, all the events which disturb or destroy life ought logically to be traced to a principle of the same sort.

However, a spirit is just as capable of doing evil as good. That is why a class of evil spirits naturally arises in opposition to these helpful and protective spirits. These evil spirits allow people to explain the lasting evils they suffer, their nightmares and illnesses, whirlwinds and storms, and so on. Of course, this does not mean that all these human miseries seemed too abnormal to explain except through supernatural forces. Rather, it means that people think of these forces in religious terms. A religious principle is considered the source of life. So, logically, all events that disturb or destroy life must be traced to a principle of the same kind.

Wyatt, Adelaide and Encounter Bay Tribes, in Woods, p. 168.

Taplin, The Narrinyeri, pp. 62 f. Roth, Superstition, etc., § 116. Howitt, Nat. Tr., pp. 356, 358. Strehlow, pp. 11-12.

Strehlow, I, pp. 13-14. Dawson, p. 49.

These harmful spirits seem to have been conceived on the same model as the good spirits of which we have just been speaking. They are represented in an animal form, or one that is half-animal, half-man; but men are naturally inclined to give them enormous dimensions and a repulsive aspect. Like the souls of the ancestors, they are believed to inhabit trees, rocks, water-holes and subterranean caverns. Taking the Arunta as a particular example, Spencer and Gillen say expressly that these evil geniuses, known under the name of Oruncha, are beings of the Alcheringa. Many are represented as the souls of persons who had led a terrestrial life. Among the personages of the fabulous epoch, there were, in fact, many different temperaments: some had cruel and evil instincts which they retained; others were naturally of a bad constitution; they were thin and emaciated; so after they had entered into the ground, the nanja rocks to which they gave birth were considered the homes of dangerous influences.

These harmful spirits seem to have been imagined on the same model as the good spirits we have just discussed. They are depicted as animals, or as half animal and half human. But people naturally tend to give them enormous size and a repulsive appearance. Like the souls of the ancestors, they are believed to live in trees, rocks, water-holes, and underground caves. Taking the Arunta as an example, Spencer and Gillen state explicitly that these evil spirits, called Oruncha, are beings of the Alcheringa. Many are depicted as the souls of people who had lived on earth. In fact, the figures of the legendary age had many different temperaments. Some had cruel and evil instincts that they retained. Others were naturally in poor physical condition. They were thin and emaciated, so after they entered the ground, the nanja rocks they gave rise to were considered homes of dangerous influences.

Strehlow, I, pp. 11-14. Eylmann, pp. 182, 185. Spencer and Gillen, Nor. Tr., p. 211. Schürmann, The Aborig. Tr. of Port Lincoln, in Woods, p. 239.

Eylmann, p. 182.

Mathews, Journ. of the Roy. Soc. of N.S. Wales, XXXVIII, p. 345; Fison and Howitt, Kamilaroi and Kurnai, p. 467; Strehlow, I, p. 11.

Nat. Tr., pp. 390-391. Strehlow calls these evil spirits Erintja, but this word is evidently equivalent to Oruncha. Yet the two accounts present them differently. According to Spencer and Gillen, the Oruncha are malicious rather than evil. They even say (p. 328) that the Arunta know no necessarily evil spirits. In contrast, Strehlow’s Erintja regularly do evil. Judging from certain myths given by Spencer and Gillen (Nat. Tr., p. 390), they seem to have softened the portrayal of the Oruncha a little: the Oruncha were originally ogres (ibid., p. 331).

Roth, Superstition, etc., § 115; Eylmann, p. 190.

Nat. Tr., pp. 390 f.

Ibid., p. 551.

Yet they are distinguished by special characteristics from their confrères, the heroes of the Alcheringa. They do not reincarnate themselves; among living men, there is no one who represents them; they are without human posterity. When, judging from certain signs, they believe that a child is the result of their work, it is put to death as soon as born. Also, these belong to no determined totemic group; they are outside the social organization. By all these traits, they are recognized as magic powers rather than religious ones. And in fact, it is especially with the magician that they have relations; very frequently it is from them that he gets his powers. So we have now arrived at the point where the world of religion stops and that of magic commences; and as this latter is outside the field of our research, we need not push our researches further.

Yet they differ in certain ways from their counterparts, the heroes of the Alcheringa. They do not reincarnate, and no living person represents them. They have no human descendants. When people believe, from certain signs, that a child is the result of their work, the child is killed at birth. They also belong to no particular totemic group. They are outside the social organization. All these traits show that they are magical rather than religious powers. In fact, they have a special relationship with the magician. Very often he gets his powers from them. So we have reached the point where the world of religion ends and the world of magic begins. Since magic is outside the scope of our research, we need go no further.

Ibid., pp. 326 f.

Strehlow, I, p. 14. When twins are born, the first is believed to have been conceived this way.

Spencer and Gillen, Nat. Tr., p. 327.

Howitt, Nat. Tr., pp. 358, 381, 385. Spencer and Gillen, Nat. Tr., p. 334, Nor. Tr., pp. 501, 530.

Because a magician can cause or cure sickness, we sometimes find spirits that prevent or counteract the harmful influence of evil magical spirits. Cases of this sort can be found in Nor. Tr., pp. 501-502. Among the Arunta, both kinds of spirits have the same name. This clearly shows that the protective spirits are just as magical as the evil ones. So they are different aspects of a single magical power.

III

III

The appearance of the notion of spirits marks an important step in advance in the individualization of religious forces.

The idea of spirits marks an important step toward treating religious forces as individual beings.

However, the spiritual beings of whom we have been speaking up to the present are as yet only secondary personages. They are either evil-working geniuses who belong to magic rather than religion, or else, being attached to determined individuals or places, they cannot make their influence felt except within a circle of a very limited radius. So they can only be the objects of private and local rites. But after the idea has once been established, it naturally spreads to the higher spheres of the religious life, and thus mythical personalities of a superior order are born.

However, the spiritual beings discussed so far are still only secondary figures. Some are evil spirits who belong to magic rather than religion. Others are tied to particular individuals or places, so their influence extends only over a very limited area. They can therefore be the objects of private and local rites only. But once the idea is established, it naturally spreads to the higher spheres of religious life. In this way, mythical figures of a higher order are born.

Though the ceremonies of the different clans differ from one another, they all belong to the same religion, none the less; also, a certain number of essential similarities exist between them. Since all the clans are only parts of one and the same tribe, the unity of the tribe cannot fail to make itself felt through this diversity of particular cults. In fact, there is no totemic group that does not have churinga and bull-roarers, and these are used everywhere in the same way. The organization of the tribe into phratries, matrimonial classes and clans, and the exogamic interdictions attached to them, are veritable tribal institutions. The initiation celebrations all include certain fundamental practices, the extraction of a tooth, circumcision, subincision, etc., which do not vary with the totems within a single tribe. The uniformity on this point is the more easily established as the initiation always takes place in the presence of the tribe, or at least, before an assembly to which the different clans have been summoned. The reason for this is that the object of the initiation is to introduce the neophyte into the religious life, not merely of the clan into which he was born, but of the tribe as a whole; so it is necessary that the various aspects of the tribal religion be represented before him and take place, in a way, under his very eyes. It is on this occasion that the moral and religious unity of the tribe is affirmed the best.

Although the ceremonies of different clans vary, they all belong to the same religion. They also share a number of essential similarities. All clans are parts of the same tribe, so the tribe’s unity must be felt despite the diversity of its particular cults. In fact, every totemic group has churinga and bull-roarers, and these are used everywhere in the same way. The division of the tribe into phratries, matrimonial classes and clans, and the rules requiring marriage outside these groups, are genuinely tribal institutions. All initiation ceremonies include certain fundamental practices, such as tooth extraction, circumcision and subincision. Within a single tribe, these practices do not vary according to the totems. Their uniformity is easier to establish because initiation always takes place before the tribe, or at least before an assembly to which the different clans have been summoned. The purpose of initiation is to introduce the novice to the religious life of the whole tribe, not just of the clan into which he was born. The various aspects of the tribal religion must therefore be represented before him and, in a way, take place before his eyes. It is on this occasion that the tribe’s moral and religious unity is most clearly affirmed.

Thus, in each society there are a certain number of rites which are distinguished from all the others by their homogeneity and their generality. So noticeably a harmony seemed to be explicable only by a unity of origin. So they imagined that each group of similar rites had been founded by one and the same ancestor, who came to reveal them to the tribe as a whole. Thus, among the Arunta, it was an ancestor of the Wild Cat clan, named Putiaputia, who is thought to have taught men the way of making churinga and using it ritually; among the Warramunga, it was Murtu-murtu; among the Urabunna, Witurna; it was Atnatu among the Kaitish and Tendun among the Kurnai. Likewise, the practice of circumcision is attributed by the eastern Dieri and many other tribes to two special Muramura, and by the Arunta to a hero of the Alcheringa, of the Lizard totem, named Mangarkunjerkunja. To this same personage are ascribed the foundation of the matrimonial institutions and the social organization they imply, the discovery of fire, the invention of the spear, the buckler, the boomerang, etc. It also happens very frequently that the inventor of the bull-roarer is also considered the founder of the rites of initiation.

In every society, certain rites stand apart from all others because they are alike and widespread. This striking similarity seemed possible only if the rites shared an origin. So people imagined that each group of similar rites had been founded by a single ancestor. This ancestor came to reveal the rites to the whole tribe. Among the Arunta, for example, an ancestor of the Wild Cat clan named Putiaputia is believed to have taught people how to make churinga and use it in rituals. Among the Warramunga, this ancestor was Murtu-murtu; among the Urabunna, Witurna; among the Kaitish, Atnatu; and among the Kurnai, Tendun. Similarly, the eastern Dieri and many other tribes attribute the practice of circumcision to two particular Muramura. The Arunta attribute it to Mangarkunjerkunja, a hero of the Alcheringa who belonged to the Lizard totem. They also credit him with founding marriage institutions and the social organization those institutions imply. They credit him with discovering fire and inventing the spear, the buckler, the boomerang, and other things. Very often, the inventor of the bull-roarer is also considered the founder of initiation rites.

Strehlow, I, p. 9. Putiaputia is not the only figure of this kind in Arunta myths. Some parts of the tribe give a different name to the hero credited with the same invention. We must remember that the Arunta occupy a vast territory, so their mythology is not completely uniform.

Spencer and Gillen, Nor. Tr., p. 493.

Ibid., p. 498.

Ibid., pp. 498 f.

Howitt, Nat. Tr., p. 135.

Ibid., pp. 476 ff.

Strehlow, I, pp. 6-8. We must return later to the work of Mangarkunjerkunja alongside that of other heroes. For the Arunta and other peoples believe that a time came when men forgot the teachings of their first initiators and became corrupt.

This is the case, for example, with Atnatu (Spencer and Gillen, Nor. Tr., p. 153) and the Witurna (Nor. Tr., p. 498). If Tendun did not establish these rites, he is responsible for directing their celebration (Howitt, Nat. Tr., p. 670).

These special ancestors cannot be put in the same rank as the others. On the one hand, the sentiments of veneration which they inspire are not limited to one clan, but are common to the whole tribe. On the other hand, it is to them that men ascribe all that is most esteemed in the tribal civilization. For this double reason, they became the object of a special consideration. For example, they say of Atnatu that he was born in heaven at an epoch even prior to the times of the Alcheringa, that he made himself and that he gave himself the name he bears. The stars are his wives and daughters. Beyond the heaven where he lives, there is another one with another sun. His name is sacred, and should never be pronounced before women or non-initiated persons.

These special ancestors cannot be placed on the same level as the others. For one thing, the respect they inspire is not limited to one clan. The whole tribe shares it. For another, people credit them with everything most valued in the tribe’s civilization. For both reasons, these ancestors came to be regarded with special respect. For example, people say that Atnatu was born in heaven, even before the time of the Alcheringa. They say he made himself and gave himself his own name. The stars are his wives and daughters. Beyond the heaven where he lives, there is another heaven with another sun. His name is sacred and should never be spoken in the presence of women or uninitiated people.

Nor. Tr., p. 499.

Yet, howsoever great the prestige enjoyed by these personages may be, there was no occasion for founding special rites in their honour; for they themselves are only rites personified. They have no other reason for existence than to explain existing practices; they are only another aspect of these. The churinga and the ancestor who invented it are only one; sometimes, both have the same name. When someone makes the bull-roarer resound, they say that it is the voice of the ancestor making himself heard. But, for the very reason that each of these heroes is confounded with the cult he is believed to have founded, they believe that he is attentive to the way in which it is celebrated. He is not satisfied unless the worshippers fulfil their duties exactly; he punishes those who are negligent. So he is thought of as the guardian of the rite, as well as its founder, and for this reason, he becomes invested with a veritable moral rôle.

Yet, however great the prestige of these figures may be, there was no reason to establish special rites in their honor. They are simply rites personified. They exist only to explain existing practices. They are only another aspect of those practices. The churinga and the ancestor who invented it are one and the same. Sometimes, both have the same name. When someone sounds the bull-roarer, people say that the ancestor’s voice is being heard. But each of these heroes is identified with the cult he is believed to have founded. For that very reason, people believe he pays attention to how its rites are performed. He is satisfied only if the worshippers fulfill their duties exactly. He punishes those who are negligent. So he is thought of as the guardian of the rite, as well as its founder. For this reason, he comes to have a genuine moral role.

Howitt, Nat. Tr., p. 493. Kamilaroi and Kurnai, pp. 197 and 247. Spencer and Gillen, Nor. Tr., p. 492.

For example, see Nor. Tr., p. 499.

Nor. Tr., pp. 338, 347, 499.

Spencer and Gillen do maintain that these mythical beings play no moral role (Nor. Tr., p. 493). But this is because they define morality too narrowly. Religious duties are duties, so overseeing how they are observed is a moral concern. This is especially true because all morality has a religious character at this stage.

IV

IV

However, this mythological formation is not the highest which is to be found among the Australians. There are at least a certain number of tribes who have arrived at a conception of a god who, if not unique, is at least supreme, and to whom is attributed a pre-eminent position among all the other religious entities.

However, this mythological form is not the highest found among the Australians. At least some tribes have developed the idea of a god who, if not the only god, is at least supreme. They give this god the highest position among all other religious beings.

The existence of this belief was pointed out long ago by different observers; but it is Howitt who has contributed the most to establishing its relative generality. In fact, he has verified it over a very extended geographical area embracing the State of Victoria and New South Wales and even extending up to Queensland. In all this entire region, a considerable number of tribes believe in the existence of a veritable tribal divinity, who has different names, according to the district. The ones most frequently employed are Bunjil or Punjil, Daramulun and Baiame. But we also find Nuralie or Nurelle, Kohin and Mangan-ngaua. The same conception is found again farther west, among the Narrinyeri, where the great god is called Nurunderi or Ngurrunderi. Among the Dieri, it is probable that there is one of the Mura-mura, or ordinary ancestors, who enjoys a sort of supremacy over the others. Finally, in opposition to the affirmations of Spencer and Gillen, who declare that they have observed no belief in a real divinity among the Arunta, Strehlow assures us that this people, as well as the Loritja, recognize, under the name Altjira, a veritable "good god."

Different observers noted this belief long ago, but Howitt has done the most to establish how widespread it is. He confirmed the belief across a very large area, covering the State of Victoria and New South Wales and reaching into Queensland. Throughout this region, a considerable number of tribes believe in a true tribal divinity, known by different names in different districts. The most common names are Bunjil or Punjil, Daramulun and Baiame. Other names include Nuralie or Nurelle, Kohin and Mangan-ngaua. The same belief is found farther west among the Narrinyeri, who call the great god Nurunderi or Ngurrunderi. Among the Dieri, one of the Mura-mura, or ordinary ancestors, probably holds a kind of supremacy over the others. Finally, Spencer and Gillen say they observed no belief in a real divinity among the Arunta. But Strehlow says that both the Arunta and the Loritja recognize a true "good god" called Altjira.

Eyre observed this fact as early as 1845, Journals, etc., II, p. 362. Henderson observed it before Eyre, Observations on the Colonies of N.S. Wales and Van Diemen's Land, p. 147.

Nat. Tr., pp. 488-508.

Among the Kulin, Wotjobaluk and Woëworung (Victoria).

Among the Yuin, Ngarrigo, and Wolgal (New South Wales).

Among the Kamilaroi and Euahlayi in northern New South Wales, and among the Wonghibon and Wiradjuri in the central part of the same province.

Among the Wiimbaio and the tribes along the lower Murray (Ridley, Kamilaroi, p. 137; Brough Smyth, I, pp. 423, n., 431).

Among the tribes on the Herbert River (Howitt, Nat. Tr., p. 498).

Among the Kurnai.

Taplin, p. 55; Eylmann, p. 182.

Gason undoubtedly refers to this supreme Mura-mura in the passage cited earlier (Curr, II, p. 55).

Nat. Tr., p. 246.

Unlike Baiame, Bunjil, and Daramulun, Altjira is completely unconcerned with human affairs. He did not make humans and takes no interest in what they do. The Arunta feel neither love nor fear for him. But a careful examination of this idea makes it hard to accept as primitive. If Altjira plays no role, explains nothing, and serves no purpose, why did the Arunta imagine him? Perhaps he should be seen as a kind of Baiame who has lost his former prestige, an ancient god whose memory is fading. Perhaps Strehlow also misinterpreted the testimony he gathered. According to Eylmann, Altjira made humans (op. cit., p. 134). Eylmann, however, must be admitted to be neither a very competent nor a very reliable observer. Moreover, among the Loritja, the corresponding figure, Tukura, is believed to conduct the initiation ceremonies himself.

The essential characteristics of this personage are the same everywhere. It is an immortal, and even an eternal being, for it was not derived from any other. After having lived on earth for a certain length of time, he ascended to heaven, or else was taken up there, and continues to live there, surrounded by his family, for generally he is said to have one or several wives, children and brothers, who sometimes assist him in his functions. Under the pretext of a visit he is said to have made to them, he and his family are frequently identified with certain stars. Moreover, they attribute to him a power over stars. It is he who regulates the journey of the sun and moon; he gives them orders. It is he who makes the lightning leap from the clouds and who throws the thunder-bolts. Since he is the thunder, he is also connected with the rain: it is to him that men address themselves when there is a scarcity of water, or when too much falls.

The essential characteristics of this figure are the same everywhere. He is immortal and even eternal, because he did not come from any other being. After living on earth for a time, he rose to heaven or was taken there. He continues to live there, surrounded by his family. He is generally said to have one or several wives, children, and brothers, who sometimes help him in his duties. He and his family are often identified with certain stars because he is said to have visited them. People also attribute to him power over the stars. He directs the journeys of the sun and moon, giving them orders. He makes lightning leap from the clouds and throws thunderbolts. Because he is the thunder, he is also connected with rain. People appeal to him when there is too little or too much water.

For Bunjil, see Brough Smyth, I, p. 417. For Baiame, see Ridley, Kamilaroi, p. 136. For Daramulun, see Howitt, Nat. Tr., p. 495.

For the composition of Bunjil's family, see Howitt, Nat. Tr., pp. 128, 129, 489, 491, and Brough Smyth, I, pp. 417, 423. For Baiame's family, see L. Parker, The Euahlayi, pp. 7, 66, 103, and Howitt, Nat. Tr., pp. 502, 585, 407. For Nurunderi's family, see Taplin, The Narrinyeri, pp. 57 f. Of course, there are all sorts of variations in how the families of these great gods are conceived. A figure who is a brother in one place is a son in another. The number and names of the wives vary by locality.

Howitt, Nat. Tr., p. 128.

Brough Smyth, I, pp. 430, 431.

Ibid., I, p. 432, n.

Howitt, Nat. Tr., pp. 498, 538. Mathews, Jour. of the Roy. Soc. of N.S. Wales, XXXVIII, p. 343. Ridley, p. 136.

Howitt, Nat. Tr., p. 538. Taplin, The Narrinyeri, pp. 57, 58.

L. Parker, The Euahlayi, p. 8.

They speak of him as a sort of creator: he is called the father of men and they say that he made them. According to a legend current around Melbourne, Bunjil made the first man in the following manner. He made a little statue out of white clay; then, after he had danced all around it several times and had breathed into its nostrils, the statue became animated and commenced to walk about. According to another myth, he lighted the sun; thus the earth became heated and men came out of it. At the same time that he made men, this divine personage made the animals and trees; it is to him that men owe all the arts of life, arms, language and tribal rites. He is the benefactor of humanity. Even yet, he plays the rôle of a sort of providence for them. It is he who supplies his worshippers with all that is necessary for their existence. He is in communication with them, either directly or through intermediaries. But being at the same time guardian of the morals of the tribe, he treats them severely when these are violated. If we are to believe certain observers, he will even fulfil the office of judge, after this life; he will separate the good from the bad, and will not reward the ones like the others. In any case, they are often represented as ruling the land of the dead, and as gathering the souls together when they arrive in the beyond.

They speak of him as a kind of creator. They call him the father of men and say that he made them. According to a legend told around Melbourne, Bunjil made the first man in the following way. He made a small statue out of white clay. Then he danced around it several times and breathed into its nostrils. The statue came to life and began to walk around. According to another myth, he lit the sun. The earth then grew warm, and men came out of it. When he made men, this divine being also made the animals and trees. Men owe him all the skills of life, weapons, language, and tribal rites. He is humanity’s benefactor. Even now, he acts as a kind of providence for them. He provides his worshippers with everything they need to live. He communicates with them, either directly or through intermediaries. But he is also the guardian of the tribe’s morals. He treats his worshippers harshly when they violate those morals. If we are to believe certain observers, he will even act as a judge after this life. He will separate the good from the bad and will not reward them alike. In any case, they are often portrayed as ruling the land of the dead, and as gathering souls together when they arrive in the afterlife.

Brough Smyth, I, p. 424.

Howitt, Nat. Tr., p. 492.

According to some myths, Bunjil made men but not women. But women are said to have come from his son-brother, Pallyan (Brough Smyth, I, pp. 417 and 423).

Howitt, Nat. Tr., pp. 489, 492; Mathews, Journ. of the Roy. Soc. of N.S. Wales, XXXVIII, p. 340.

L. Parker, The Euahlayi, p. 7. Howitt, Nat. Tr., p. 630.

Ridley, Kamilaroi, p. 136. L. Parker, The Euahlayi, p. 114.

L. Parker, More Austr. Leg. Tales, pp. 84-89, 90-91.

Howitt, Nat. Tr., pp. 495, 498, 543, 563, 564. Brough Smyth, I, p. 429. L. Parker, The Euahlayi, pp. 79.

Ridley, p. 137.

L. Parker, The Euahlayi, pp. 90-91.

Howitt, Nat. Tr., p. 495. Taplin, The Narrinyeri, p. 58.

As the initiation is the principal form of the tribal cult, it is to the rites of initiation that he is attached especially; he is their centre. He is very frequently represented by an image cut on a piece of bark or soaked into the ground. They dance around it; they sing in its honour; they even address real prayers to it. They explain to the young men who the personage is whom this image represents; they tell them his secret name, which the women and the uninitiated cannot know; they relate to them his history and the part attributed to him in the life of the tribe. At other times they raise their hands towards the heaven where he is thought to dwell, or else they point their arms or the ritual instruments they have in hand in this direction; this is a way of entering into communication with him. They feel his presence everywhere. He watches over the neophyte when he has withdrawn into the forest. He is attentive to the manner in which the ceremonies are celebrated. The initiation is his cult. So he gives special attention to seeing that these are carried out exactly: if there are any faults or negligences, he punishes them in a terrible manner.

Because initiation is the main form of tribal worship, he is especially connected with its rites. He is at their center. He is very often represented by an image carved on a piece of bark or traced on the ground. People dance around the image. They sing in his honor. They even offer prayers to the image. They explain to the young men who the image represents. They tell them his secret name, which women and the uninitiated are not allowed to know. They tell them his history and the role attributed to him in the life of the tribe. At other times, they raise their hands toward the sky, where he is thought to live. Or they point their arms or the ritual instruments they hold in that direction. This is a way of communicating with him. They feel his presence everywhere. He watches over the initiate when he has withdrawn into the forest. He pays attention to how the ceremonies are performed. The initiation is his form of worship. So he takes special care to see that the ceremonies are performed exactly as they should be. If there are any mistakes or acts of neglect, he punishes them terribly.

Howitt, Nat. Tr., pp. 538, 543, 553, 555, 556. Mathews, loc. cit., p. 318. L. Parker, The Euahlayi, pp. 6, 79, 80.

Howitt, Nat. Tr., pp. 498, 528.

Howitt, ibid., p. 493. L. Parker, The Euahlayi, p. 76.

L. Parker, The Euahlayi, p. 76; Howitt, Nat. Tr., pp. 493, 612.

Moreover, the authority of each of these supreme gods is not limited to a single tribe; it is recognized equally by a number of neighbouring tribes. Bunjil is adored in nearly all of Victoria, Baiame in a considerable portion of New South Wales, etc.; this is why there are so few gods for a relatively extended geographical area. So the cults of which they are the object have an international character. It even happens sometimes that mythologies intermingle, combine and make mutual borrowings. Thus the majority of the tribes who believe in Baiame also admit the existence of Daramulun; however, they accord him a slighter dignity. They make him a son or brother of Baiame, and subordinate to this latter. Thus the faith in Daramulun has spread in diverse forms, into all of New South Wales. So it is far from true that religious internationalism is a peculiarity of the most recent and advanced religions. From the dawn of history, religious beliefs have manifested a tendency to overflow out of one strictly limited political society; it is as though they had a natural aptitude for crossing frontiers, and for diffusing and internationalizing themselves. Of course there have been peoples and times when this spontaneous aptitude has been held in check by opposed social necessities; but that does not keep it from being real and, as we see, very primitive.

Moreover, the authority of each of these supreme gods extends beyond a single tribe. A number of neighboring tribes recognize it equally. Bunjil is worshipped throughout nearly all of Victoria, Baiame in a considerable part of New South Wales, and so on. This is why there are so few gods across a relatively large geographical area. The worship of these gods is therefore international in character. Sometimes mythologies even intermingle, combine, and borrow from one another. For example, most tribes that believe in Baiame also acknowledge the existence of Daramulun. However, they give Daramulun a lower rank. They make him a son or brother of Baiame and subordinate to him. In this way, belief in Daramulun has spread in various forms throughout New South Wales. So religious internationalism is far from being unique to the most recent and advanced religions. From the dawn of history, religious beliefs have tended to spread beyond the bounds of a single political society. It is as if they had a natural ability to cross borders, spread, and become international. Of course, among some peoples and at some times, opposing social needs have held this spontaneous tendency in check. But that does not make the tendency any less real or, as we can see, very ancient.

Ridley, Kamilaroi, p. 153. L. Parker, The Euahlayi, p. 67. Howitt, Nat. Tr., p. 585. Mathews, loc. cit., p. 343. Unlike Baiame, Daramulun is sometimes portrayed as a necessarily evil spirit (L. Parker, loc. cit.. Ridley, in Brough Smyth, II, p. 285).

To Tylor this conception has appeared to be a part of so elevated a theology that he refuses to see in it anything but the product of a European importation: he would have it be a more or less denatured Christian idea. Andrew Lang, on the contrary, considers them autochthonous; but as he also admits that it is contrasted with all the other Australian beliefs and rests on completely different principles, he concludes that the religions of Australia are made up of two heterogeneous systems, superimposed one upon the other, and consequently derived from a double origin. On the one hand, there were ideas relative to totems and spirits, which had been suggested to men by the sight of certain natural phenomena. But at the same time, by a sort of intuition as to the nature of which he refuses to make himself clear, the human intelligence succeeded at the first onset in conceiving a unique god, creator of the world and legislator of the moral order. Lang even estimates that this idea was purer of foreign elements at the beginning, and especially in Australia, than in the civilizations which immediately followed. With time, it was covered over and obscured little by little by the ever-growing mass of animistic and totemic superstitions. Thus it underwent a sort of progressive degeneration up to the day when, as the effect of a privileged culture, it succeeded in coming into its own and restated itself again with more force and clarity than it had in the first place.

Tylor considered this conception part of such an advanced theology that he saw it only as a European import. He believed it was a more or less distorted Christian idea. Andrew Lang, by contrast, considers these ideas native to Australia. But he also admits that they contrast with all other Australian beliefs and rest on completely different principles. He therefore concludes that Australian religions consist of two distinct systems, one laid over the other, and thus have two origins. On the one hand, there were ideas about totems and spirits, suggested to people by observing certain natural phenomena. But at the same time, the human mind immediately conceived of a single god, creator of the world and giver of the moral law. Lang attributes this to a kind of intuition, though he refuses to explain its nature. He even believes that this idea was originally freer of outside elements, especially in Australia, than in the civilizations that immediately followed. Over time, a growing mass of animistic and totemic superstitions gradually covered and obscured the idea. It thus underwent a kind of gradual decline. Eventually, as a result of a privileged culture, it came into its own and reasserted itself more forcefully and clearly than at first.

J.A.I., XXI, pp. 292 ff.

The Making of Religion, pp. 187-293.

Lang, ibid., p. 331. The author says only that St. Paul's hypothesis does not seem to him "the most unsatisfactory."

Father Schmidt took up Lang's thesis again in Anthropos (1908-1909). Sydney Hartland had criticized Lang's theory in an article entitled The "High Gods" of Australia, in Folk-Lore (Vol. IX, pp. 290 ff.). In reply, Father Schmidt set out to show that Baiame, Bunjil, etc., are eternal gods, creators, omnipotent, omniscient, and guardians of the moral order. We will not enter this discussion, which seems neither interesting nor important. If these descriptions are understood in a relative sense, consistent with the Australian way of thinking, we readily accept them. We have even used them ourselves.

From this point of view, omnipotent means having more power than other sacred beings. Omniscient means seeing things that escape ordinary people and even the greatest magicians. A guardian of the moral order is one who ensures that the rules of Australian morality are respected, however much those rules differ from our own. But if these words are given meanings that only a spiritualistic Christian could give them, discussion seems pointless. Such an opinion is too contrary to the principles of the historical method.

But the facts allow neither the sceptical hypothesis of Tylor nor the theological interpretation of Lang.

But the facts support neither Tylor's skeptical hypothesis nor Lang's theological interpretation.

In the first place, it is certain to-day that the ideas relative to the great tribal god are of indigenous origin. They were observed before the influence of the missionaries had as yet had time to make itself felt. But it does not follow that it is necessary to attribute them to a mysterious revelation. Far from being derived from a different source than the regular totemic beliefs, they are, on the contrary, only the logical working-out of these beliefs and their highest form.

First, it is now certain that ideas about the great tribal god are indigenous. They were observed before missionaries had time to influence them. But this does not mean that these ideas must have come from a mysterious revelation. Far from coming from a source different from ordinary totemic beliefs, they are the logical development and highest form of those beliefs.

On this question, see N. W. Thomas, Baiame and Bell-bird: A Note on Australian Religion, in Man, 1905, No. 28. See also Lang, Magic and Religion, p. 25. Waitz had already argued that this conception was original in his Anthropologie d. Naturvölker, pp. 796-798.

We have already seen how the notion of mythical ancestors is implied in the very principles upon which totemism rests, for each of them is a totemic being. Now, though the great gods are certainly superior to these, still, there are only differences of degree between them; we pass from the first to the second with no break of continuity. In fact, a great god is himself an ancestor of especial importance. They frequently speak to us about him as though he were a man, endowed, to be sure, with more than human powers, but one who lived a human life upon the earth. He is pictured as a great hunter, a powerful magician, or the founder of the tribe. He was the first man. One legend even represents him in the form of a worn-out old man who could hardly move about. If a supreme god named Mura-mura has existed among the Dieri, the very word is significant, for it serves to designate the class of the ancestors. Likewise, Nuralie, the name of a great god among the tribes on the Murray River, is sometimes used as a collective expression which is applied to the group of mythical beings whom tradition places at the origin of things. They are personages wholly comparable to those of the Alcheringa. In Queensland, we have already met with a god Anjea or Anjir, who made men but who seems, nevertheless, to be only the first man.

We have already seen how the idea of mythical ancestors follows from the basic principles of totemism. Each ancestor is a totemic being. The great gods are certainly superior to these ancestors, but the differences between them are only matters of degree. We can move from ancestors to great gods without any break in continuity. In fact, a great god is himself an ancestor of special importance. He is often described as a man who lived a human life on earth, though he had more than human powers. He is pictured as a great hunter, a powerful magician, or the founder of the tribe. He was the first man. One legend even depicts him as a worn-out old man who could hardly move around. If a supreme god named Mura-mura has existed among the Dieri, the name itself is significant. It is the word used for the class of ancestors. Similarly, Nuralie is the name of a great god among the tribes on the Murray River. It is sometimes also used as a collective name for the group of mythical beings whom tradition places at the origin of things. These beings are entirely comparable to those of the Alcheringa. In Queensland, we have already encountered a god named Anjea or Anjir. He made humans, but nevertheless seems to be only the first man.

Dawson, p. 49. Meyer, Encounter Bay Tribe, in Woods, pp. 205, 206. Howitt, Nat. Tr., pp. 481, 491, 492, 494. Ridley, Kamilaroi, p. 136.

Taplin, The Narrinyeri, pp. 55 to 56.

L. Parker, More Austr. Leg. Tales, p. 94.

Brough Smyth, I, pp. 425-427.

Taplin, ibid., p. 60.

Taplin, ibid., p. 61.

"The world was created by beings called Nuralie; these beings, who had already long existed, had the forms of crows or of eagle-hawks" (Brough Smyth, I, pp. 423-424).

"Bayamee," says Mrs. Parker, "is for the Euahlayi what the Alcheringa is for the Arunta" (The Euahlayi, p. 6).

See above, pp. 257 f.

A fact that has aided Australian thought to pass from the numerous ancestral geniuses to the idea of the tribal god is that between the two extremes a middle term has been inserted, which has served as a transition: these are the civilizing heroes. The fabulous beings whom we call by this name are really simple ancestors to whom mythology has attributed an eminent place in the history of the tribe, and whom it has, for this reason, set above the others. We have even seen that they ordinarily form a part of the totemic organization: Mangarkunjerkunja belongs to the Lizard totem and Putiaputia to the Wild Cat totem. But on the other hand, the functions which they are believed to fulfil, or to have fulfilled, are closely similar to those incumbent upon a great god. He, too, is believed to have introduced the arts of civilization among men, to have been the founder of the principal social institutions and the revealer of the great religious ceremonies which still remain under his control. If he is the father of men, it is because he manufactured them rather than begat them: but Mangarkunjerkunja also made them. Before his time, there were no men, but only unformed masses of flesh, in which the different members and even the different individuals were not yet separated from one another. It was he who cut up this original matter and made real human beings out of it. Between this mode of fabrication and the one the myth we have spoken of attributes to Bunjil, there are only shades of difference. Moreover, the bonds uniting these two sorts of figures to each other are well shown by the fact that a relationship of descent is sometimes established between them. Among the Kurnai, the hero of the bull-roarer, Tundun, is the son of the great god Mungan-ngaua. Likewise, among the Euahlayi, Daramulun, the son or brother of Baiame, is identical with Gayandi who is the equivalent of the Tundun of the Kurnai. Of course it is not necessary to conclude from these facts that the great god is nothing more than a civilizing hero. There are cases where these two personages are carefully differentiated. But if they are not confounded, they are at least relatives. So it sometimes happens that we find it hard to distinguish them; there are some who could be classified equally well in one category or the other. Thus, we have spoken of Atnatu as a civilizing hero; but he comes very near to being a great god.

One factor helped Australian thought move from the many ancestral spirits to the idea of a tribal god. Between these two extremes came an intermediate figure that served as a transition: the civilizing hero. The mythical beings we call civilizing heroes are really ordinary ancestors. But mythology has given them a prominent place in tribal history and, for that reason, raised them above other ancestors. We have even seen that they usually belong to the totemic organization: Mangarkunjerkunja belongs to the Lizard totem and Putiaputia to the Wild Cat totem. On the other hand, the roles they are believed to fulfill, or to have fulfilled, closely resemble those of a great god. He, too, is believed to have introduced the arts of civilization to humans. He is also believed to have founded the main social institutions and revealed the great religious ceremonies that remain under his control. If he is the father of humans, it is because he made them rather than fathered them. But Mangarkunjerkunja also made humans. Before his time, there were no humans, only unformed masses of flesh. In these masses, the different body parts and even the different individuals had not yet been separated from one another. He cut up this original matter and made real human beings from it. There are only slight differences between this way of making humans and the one attributed to Bunjil in the myth we have discussed. The connection between these two kinds of figures is also clear from the fact that they are sometimes said to be related by descent. Among the Kurnai, Tundun, the hero of the bull-roarer, is the son of the great god Mungan-ngaua. Likewise, among the Euahlayi, Daramulun, the son or brother of Baiame, is the same figure as Gayandi. Gayandi is the equivalent of the Kurnai's Tundun. Of course, these facts do not require us to conclude that the great god is nothing more than a civilizing hero. In some cases, the two figures are carefully distinguished. But even when they are not confused, they are at least related. So we sometimes find it hard to tell them apart. Some figures could fit equally well into either category. For example, we have spoken of Atnatu as a civilizing hero, but he comes very close to being a great god.

In another myth reported by Spencer and Gillen, two beings named Ungambikula live in heaven and play an entirely similar role (Nat. Tr., pp. 388 ff.).

Howitt, Nat. Tr., p. 493.

Parker, The Euahlayi, pp. 62-66, 67. This is because the great god is connected with the bull-roarer, which is identified with thunder. The roaring sound of this ritual instrument is connected with the rolling of thunder.

The notion of a supreme god even depends so closely upon the entire system of the totemic beliefs that it still bears their mark. Tundun is a divine hero, as we have just seen, who is very close to the tribal divinity; now among the Kurnai, the same word means totem. Similarly, among the Arunta, Altjira is the name of a great god; it is also the name of the maternal totem. But there is more to be said than this; many great gods have an obviously totemic aspect. Daramulun is an eagle-hawk; his mother, an emu. It is also under the features of an emu that Baiame is represented. The Altjira of the Arunta has the legs of an emu. Before being the name of a great god, Nuralie designated, as we just saw, the ancestor-founders of the tribe; now some of these were crows, the others hawks. According to Howitt, Bunjil is always represented in a human form; however, the same word serves to designate the totem of a phratry, the eagle-hawk. At least one of his sons is among the totems included in the phratry to which he has given, or from which he has taken his name. His brother is Pallyan, the bat; now this latter serves as sexual totem for the men in many tribes in Victoria.

The idea of a supreme god is closely tied to the whole system of totemic beliefs. It still bears their mark. As we have just seen, Tundun is a divine hero who is very close to the tribal divinity. Among the Kurnai, the same word means totem. Similarly, among the Arunta, Altjira is the name of a great god. It is also the name of the maternal totem. But there is more to say. Many great gods have an obvious totemic aspect. Daramulun is an eagle-hawk, and his mother is an emu. Baiame is also depicted as an emu. The Altjira of the Arunta has the legs of an emu. Before Nuralie became the name of a great god, it referred to the tribe’s ancestor-founders, as we just saw. Some of these ancestors were crows, and others were hawks. According to Howitt, Bunjil is always depicted in human form. Yet the same word also names the totem of a phratry, the eagle-hawk. At least one of his sons is among the totems of that phratry. Bunjil either gave the phratry its name or took his name from it. His brother is Pallyan, the bat. Pallyan serves as a sexual totem for men in many tribes in Victoria.

Howitt, Nat. Tr., p. 135. Howitt spells the word for totem thundung.

Strehlow, I, pp. 1-2 and II, p. 59. Recall that, among the Arunta, the maternal totem was quite probably the original totem.

Howitt, Nat. Tr., p. 555.

Ibid., pp. 546, 560.

Ridley, Kamilaroi, pp. 136, 156. He is shown in this form during Kamilaroi initiation rites. According to another legend, he is a black swan (L. Parker, More Aust. Leg. Tales, p. 94).

Strehlow, I, p. 1.

Brough Smyth, I, pp. 423-424.

Nat. Tr., p. 492.

Howitt, Nat. Tr., p. 128.

Brough Smyth, I, pp. 417-423.

We can even go farther and state more definitely the connection which these great gods have with the totemic system. We have just seen that Bunjil is the totem of a phratry. Daramulun, like Bunjil, is an eagle-hawk, and we know that this bird is the totem of phratries in a large number of south-eastern tribes. We have already pointed out that Nuralie seems to have originally been a collective term designating indistinctly either eagle-hawks or crows; now in the tribes where this myth has been observed, the crow is the totem of one of the two phratries, the eagle-hawk, that of the other. Also, the legendary history of the great gods resembles that of the totems of the phratries very closely. The myths, and sometimes the rites, commemorate the struggles which each of these divinities fought against a carnivorous bird, over which it triumphed only with the greatest difficulty. Bunjil, the first man, after making the second man, Karween, entered into a conflict with him, and in the course of a sort of duel, he wounded him severely and changed him into a crow. The two species of Nurtalie are represented as two hostile groups which were originally in a constant state of war. Baiame, on his side, had to fight against Mullian, the cannibal eagle-hawk, who, by the way, is identical with Daramulun. Now, as we have seen, there is also a sort of constitutional hostility between the totems of the phratries. This parallelism completes the proof that the mythology of the great gods and that of these totems are closely related. This relationship will appear still more evident if we notice that the rival of the god is regularly either a crow or an eagle-hawk, and that these are quite generally the totems of the phratries.

We can go further and describe the connection between these great gods and the totemic system more precisely. We have just seen that Bunjil is the totem of a phratry. Like Bunjil, Daramulun is an eagle-hawk. We know that this bird is the totem of phratries in many south-eastern tribes. We have already noted that Nuralie seems to have originally been a collective term for either eagle-hawks or crows, without distinguishing between them. In the tribes where this myth has been observed, the crow is one phratry’s totem, and the eagle-hawk is the other’s. The legendary histories of the great gods also closely resemble those of the phratry totems. Myths, and sometimes rites, commemorate each god’s struggle against a carnivorous bird. Each god triumphed only with the greatest difficulty. Bunjil, the first man, made the second man, Karween. Bunjil then fought Karween in a kind of duel, severely wounded him, and turned him into a crow. The two species of Nurtalie are portrayed as hostile groups that were originally at war constantly. Baiame, for his part, had to fight Mullian, the cannibal eagle-hawk. Mullian, incidentally, is identical with Daramulun. As we have seen, there is also a kind of inherent hostility between the totems of the phratries. This parallel completes the proof that the mythology of the great gods is closely related to that of the phratry totems. The relationship becomes even clearer when we notice that the god’s rival is regularly either a crow or an eagle-hawk. These birds are also very commonly the totems of the phratries.

See above, p. 108.

There are phratries named Kilpara (crow) and Mukwara. This is the explanation given in the myth itself, reported by Brough Smyth (I, pp. 423-424).

Brough Smyth, I, pp. 425-427. Cf. Howitt, Nat. Tr., p. 486. In this case, Karween is identified with the blue heron.

Brough Smyth, I, p. 423.

Ridley, Kamilaroi, p. 136. Howitt, Nat. Tr., p. 585. Mathews, J. of R. S. of N.S. Wales, XXVIII (1894), p. 111.

See above, p. 145. Compare Father Schmidt, The Origin of the Idea of God, in Anthropos, 1909.

So Baiame, Daramulun, Nuralie and Bunjil seem to be phratry-totems who have been deified; and we may imagine that this apotheosis took place as follows. It is obviously in the assemblies which take place in regard to the initiation that the conception was elaborated, for the great gods do not play a rôle of any importance except in these rites, and are strangers to the other religious ceremonies. Moreover, as the initiation is the principal form of the tribal cult, it is only on this occasion that a tribal mythology could arise. We have already seen how the rituals of circumcision and subincision spontaneously tend to personify themselves under the form of civilizing heroes. However, these heroes exercised no supremacy; they were on the same footing as the other legendary benefactors of society. But wherever the tribe acquired a livelier sentiment of itself, this sentiment naturally incarnated itself in some personage, who became its symbol. In order to account for the bonds uniting them to one another, no matter what clan they belonged to, men imagined that they were all descended from the same stock and that they were all descended from a single father, to whom they owe their existence, though he owed his to no one. The god of the initiation was predestined to this rôle, for, according to an expression frequently coming to the lips of the natives, the object of the initiation is to make or manufacture men. So they attributed a creative power to this god, and for all these reasons, he found himself invested with a prestige setting him well above the other heroes of the mythology. These others became his auxiliaries, subordinate to him; they were made his sons or younger brothers, as was the case with Tundun, Gayandi, Karween, Pallyan, etc. But other sacred beings already existed, who occupied an equally eminent place in the religious system of the clan: these were the totems of the phratries. Wherever these are maintained, they are believed to keep the totems of the clans dependent upon them. Thus they had all that was necessary for becoming tribal divinities themselves. So it was only natural that a partial confusion should arise between these two sorts of mythical beings; it is thus that one of the two fundamental totems of the tribe gave his traits to the great god. But as it was necessary to explain why only one of them was called to this dignity and the other excluded, they supposed that this latter, in the course of a fight against his rival, was vanquished and that his exclusion was the consequence of his defeat. This theory was the more readily admitted because it was in accord with the rest of the mythology, where the totems of the phratries are generally considered enemies of one another.

Baiame, Daramulun, Nuralie and Bunjil seem to be phratry totems who became gods. We may imagine that this happened as follows. The idea clearly developed at gatherings held for initiation. The great gods play an important role only in these rites and have no part in other religious ceremonies. Moreover, initiation is the main form of tribal worship, so a tribal mythology could arise only on this occasion. We have already seen how the rituals of circumcision and subincision naturally tend to take human form as civilizing heroes. However, these heroes had no supreme authority. They stood on the same level as the other legendary benefactors of society. But wherever the tribe gained a stronger sense of itself, that feeling naturally took form in a figure who became its symbol. People needed to explain the bonds uniting them, whatever clan they belonged to. So they imagined that they all came from the same stock and descended from a single father. They owed their existence to him, though he owed his to no one. The god of initiation was especially suited to this role. As Indigenous people frequently say, the purpose of initiation is to make or manufacture men. So they attributed creative power to this god. For all these reasons, he gained a prestige that set him well above the other heroes of the mythology. The other heroes became his helpers and subordinates. They became his sons or younger brothers, as was the case with Tundun, Gayandi, Karween, Pallyan, and others. But other sacred beings already existed who held an equally prominent place in the clan's religious system. These were the phratry totems. Wherever belief in them continues, they are thought to keep the clan totems dependent on them. Thus, they had everything needed to become tribal gods themselves. So it was only natural that these two kinds of mythical beings should become partly confused. In this way, one of the tribe's two fundamental totems gave his features to the great god. But it was necessary to explain why only one totem gained this honor and the other was excluded. So people supposed that the excluded totem had fought his rival and lost, and that his defeat had led to his exclusion. This explanation was all the more readily accepted because it agreed with the rest of the mythology. There, the phratry totems are generally considered enemies of one another.

A myth observed by Mrs. Parker among the Euahlayi may serve to confirm this explanation, for it merely translates it into figurative language. It is related that in this tribe, the totems were only the names given to the different parts of Baiame's body at first. So the clans were, in a sense, the fragments of the divine body. Now is this not just another way of saying that the great god is the synthesis of all the totems and consequently the personification of the tribal unity?

A myth Mrs. Parker observed among the Euahlayi may support this explanation. The myth simply expresses it in figurative language. According to the myth, the totems in this tribe were originally just names for the different parts of Baiame's body. So, in a sense, the clans were parts of the divine body. Is this not just another way of saying that the great god brings together all the totems and therefore personifies the unity of the tribe?

Op. cit., p. 7. Among these same people, Baiame's principal wife is also portrayed as the mother of all the totems. She does not belong to any totem herself (ibid., pp. 7, 79).

But at the same time, it takes an international character. In fact, the members of the tribe to which the young initiates belong are not the only ones who assist at the ceremonies of initiation; representatives from the neighbouring tribes are specially summoned to these celebrations, which thus become sorts of international fairs, at once religious and laical. Beliefs elaborated in social environments thus constituted could not remain the exclusive patrimony of any special nationality. The stranger to whom they are revealed carries them back to his own tribe when he returns home; and as, sooner or later, he is forced to invite his former hosts, there is a continual exchange of ideas from tribe to tribe. It is thus that an international mythology was established, of which the great god was quite naturally the essential element, for it had its origin in the rites of initiation which it is his function to personify. So his name passed from one language to another, along with the representations which were attached to it. The fact that the names of the phratries are generally the same in very different tribes could not fail to facilitate this diffusion. The internationalism of the totems opened the way for that of the great god.

But at the same time, it takes on an international character. Members of the young initiates’ tribe are not the only people who attend the initiation ceremonies. Representatives from neighboring tribes are specially invited. The celebrations thus become a kind of international fair, both religious and secular. Beliefs developed in such gatherings could not remain the exclusive property of any one people. A visitor who learns these beliefs takes them back to his own tribe when he returns home. Sooner or later, he must invite his former hosts in return. Ideas therefore pass continually from tribe to tribe. In this way, an international mythology arose. The great god was naturally its central figure, since this mythology originated in the initiation rites he personifies. His name passed from one language to another, along with the ideas associated with him. The names of the phratries are generally the same in very different tribes. This could only have helped spread the god’s name and associated ideas. The international spread of totems opened the way for the international spread of the great god.

See Howitt, Nat. Tr., pp. 511 f., 513, 602 ff.; Mathews, J. of R.S. of N.S. Wales, XXXVIII, p. 270. They invite not only tribes with whom they have an established connubium (a regular right to intermarry), but also those with whom they have disputes to settle. Vendettas, half ceremonial and half serious, take place at these feasts.

V

V

We thus reach the highest conception to which totemism has arrived. This is the point where it touches and prepares the religions which are to follow, and aids us in understanding them. But at the same time, we are able to see that this culminating idea is united without any interruption to the crudest beliefs which we analysed to start with.

We thus reach the highest idea that totemism has developed. At this point, totemism connects with and prepares the way for later religions, helping us understand them. But we can also see that this highest idea is linked without a break to the most basic beliefs we analyzed at the start.

In fact, the great tribal god is only an ancestral spirit who finally won a pre-eminent place. The ancestral spirits are only entities forged in the image of the individual souls whose origin they are destined to explain. The souls, in their turn, are only the form taken by the impersonal forces which we found at the basis of totemism, as they individualize themselves in the human body. The unity of the system is as great as its complexity.

In fact, the great tribal god is only an ancestral spirit who eventually gained a leading position. Ancestral spirits are only beings created in the image of the individual souls they are meant to explain. Souls, in turn, are only the form that impersonal forces take when they become individual in the human body. We found these forces at the foundation of totemism. The system is as unified as it is complex.

In this work of elaboration, the idea of the soul has undoubtedly played an important part: it is through it that the idea of personality has been introduced into the domain of religion. But it is not true that, as the theorists of animism maintain, it contains the germ of the whole religion. First of all, it presupposes the notion of mana or the totemic principle of which it is only a special form. Then, if the spirits and gods could not be conceived before the soul, they are, nevertheless, more than mere human souls, liberated by death; else whence would come their supernatural powers? The idea of the soul has merely served to direct the mythological imagination in a new way and to suggest to it constructions of a new sort. But the matter for these conceptions has been taken, not from the representation of the soul, but from this reservoir of the anonymous and diffused forces which constitute the original foundation of religions. The creation of mythical personalities has only been another way of thinking of these essential forces.

In this process of development, the idea of the soul has undoubtedly played an important part. It was through this idea that the idea of personality entered religion. But the theorists of animism are wrong to claim that the idea of the soul contains the seed of all religion. First, it presupposes the idea of mana, or the totemic principle. The soul is only a special form of this principle. Also, although spirits and gods could not have been imagined before the soul, they are more than human souls freed by death. Otherwise, where would their supernatural powers come from? The idea of the soul merely gave the mythological imagination a new direction and suggested new kinds of creations. But the material for these ideas came not from the image of the soul, but from a reservoir of anonymous, scattered forces. These forces form the original foundation of religions. The creation of mythical personalities was simply another way of thinking about these essential forces.

As for the notion of the great god, it is due entirely to the sentiment whose action we have already observed in the genesis of the most specifically totemic beliefs: this is the tribal sentiment. In fact, we have seen that totemism was not the work of isolated clans, but that it was always elaborated in the body of a tribe which was to some degree conscious of its unity. It is for this reason that the different cults peculiar to each clan mutually touch and complete each other in such a way as to form a unified whole. Now it is this same sentiment of a tribal unity which is expressed in the conception of a supreme god, common to the tribe as a whole. So they are quite the same causes which are active at the bottom and at the top of this religious system.

The idea of the great god comes entirely from tribal feeling. We have already seen this feeling at work in the origins of the most distinctly totemic beliefs. In fact, we have seen that totemism was not the work of isolated clans. It was always developed within a tribe that was conscious of its unity to some degree. For this reason, the distinct religious practices of each clan connect and complement one another, forming a unified whole. This same feeling of tribal unity finds expression in the idea of a supreme god shared by the whole tribe. So the very same causes are at work at the bottom and at the top of this religious system.

See above, p. 155.

However, up to the present, we have considered the religious representations as if they were self-sufficient and could be explained by themselves. But in reality, they are inseparable from the rites, not only because they manifest themselves there, but also because they, in their turn, feel the influence of these. Of course the cult depends upon the beliefs, but it also reacts upon them. So in order to understand them better, it is important to understand it better. The moment has come for undertaking its study.

However, until now, we have treated religious representations as if they stood alone and could be explained on their own. But in reality, they cannot be separated from rites. Religious representations not only find expression in rites, but are also influenced by them. Of course, religious practice depends on beliefs, but it also influences them in turn. So, to understand beliefs better, we must also understand religious practice better. The time has come to study it.