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We must now determine the place of man in the scheme of religious things.

By the force of a whole group of acquired habits and of language itself, we are inclined to consider the common man, the simple believer, as an essentially profane being. It may well happen that this conception is not literally true for any religion ;1 in any case, it is not applicable to totemism. Every member of the clan is invested with a sacred character which is not materially inferior to that which we just observed in the animal. This personal sacredness is due to the fact that the man believes that while he is a man in the usual sense of the word, he is also an animal or plant of the totemic species.

In fact, he bears its name ; this identity of name is therefore supposed to imply an identity of nature. The first is not merely considered as an outward sign of the second ; it supposes it logically. This is because the name, for a primitive, is not merely a word or a combination of sounds ; it is a part of the being, and even something essential to it. A member of the Kangaroo clan calls himself a kangaroo ; he is therefore, in one sense, an animal of this species. " The totem of any man," say Spencer and Gillen, " is regarded as the same thing as himself ; a native once said to us when we were discussing the matter with him, ' That one,' pointing to his photograph which we had taken, ' is the same thing as me ; so is a kangaroo ' (his totem)."2 So each individual has a double nature : two beings coexist within him, a man and an animal.

In order to give a semblance of intelligibility to this duality, so strange for us, the primitive has invented myths which, it is true, explain nothing and only shift the difficulty, but which, by shifting it, seem at least to lessen the logical scandal. With slight variations of detail, all are constructed on the same plan: their object is to establish genealogical connections between the man and the totemic animal, making the one a relative of the other. By this common origin, which, by the way, is represented in various manners, they believe that they account for their common nature. The Narrinyeri, for example, have imagined that certain of the first men had the power of transforming

themselves into beasts.1 Other Australian societies place at the beginning of humanity either strange animals from which the men were descended in some unknown way,2 or mixed beings, half-way between the two kingdoms,3 or else unformed creatures, hardly representable, deprived of all determined organs, and even of all definite members, and the different parts of whose bodies were hardly outlined.4  Mythical powers, sometimes conceived under the form of animals, then intervened and made men out of these ambiguous and innumerable beings which Spencer and Gillen say represent " stages in the transformation of animals and plants into human beings." 5 These transforma­tions are represented to us under the form of violent and, as it were, surgical operations. It is under the blows of an axe or, if the operator is a bird, blows of the beak, that the human indi­vidual was carved out of this shapeless mass, his members separated from each other, his mouth opened and his nostrils pierced.6 Analogous legends are found in America, except that owing to the more highly developed mentality of these peoples, the representations which they employ do not contain confusions so troublesome for the mind. Sometimes it is a legendary personage who, by an act of his power, metamorphosed the animal who gives its name to the clan into a man.7 Sometimes the myth attempts to explain how, by a series of nearly natural events and a sort of spontaneous evolution, the animal trans­formed himself little by little, and finally took a human form.8

It is true that there are societies (the Haida, Tlinkit, Tsim-shian) where it is no longer admitted that man was born of an animal or plant; but the idea of an affinity between the animals of the totemic species and the members of the clan has survived there nevertheless, and expresses itself in myths which, though differing from the preceding, still retain all that is essential in them. Here is one of the fundamental themes. Tlie ancestor who gives his name to the clan is here represented as a human being, but who, in the course of various wanderings, has been led to live for a while among the fabulous animals of the very species which gave the clan its name. As the result of this inti­mate and prolonged connection, he became so like his new companions that when he returned to men, they no longer recognized him. He was therefore given the name of the animal which he resembled. It is from his stay in this mythical land that he brought back the totemic emblem, together with the powers and virtues believed to be attached to it.1 Thus in this case, as in the others, men are believed to participate in the nature of the animal, though this participation may be conceived in slightly different forms.2

So man also has something sacred about him. Though diffused The Myths of the Iroquois, lind Report, p. 77). The Crab clan of the Choctaw was formed in a similar manner. Some men surprised a certain number of crabs that lived in the neighbourhood, took them home with them, taught them to talk and to walk, and finally adopted them into their society (Catlin, North American Indians, II, p. 128).

into the whole organism, this characteristic is especially apparent in certain privileged places. There are organs and tissues that are specially marked out: these are particularly the blood and the hair.

In the first place, human blood is so holy a thing that in the tribes of Central Australia, it frequently serves to consecrate the most respected instruments of the cult. For example, in certain cases, the nurtunja is regularly anointed from top to bottom with the blood of a man.1 It is upon ground all saturated with blood that the men of the Emu, among the Arunta, trace their sacred images.2 We shall presently see that streams of blood are poured upon the rocks which represent the totemic animals and plants.3 There is no religious ceremony where blood does not have some part to play.4 During the initiation, the adults open their veins and sprinkle the novice with their blood ;

and this blood is so sacred a thing that women may not be present while it is flowing ; the sight of it is forbidden them, ]ust as the sight of a churinga is.5 The blood lost by a young initiate during the very violent operations he must undergo has very particular virtues : it is used in various ceremonies.6 That which flows during the sub-incision is piously kept by the Arunta and buried in a place upon which they put a piece of wood warning passers-by of the sacredness of the spot ; no woman should approach it.7 The religious nature of blood also explains the equal importance, religiously, of the red ochre, which is very frequently employed in ceremonies ; they rub the churinga with it and use it in ritual decorations.8 This is due to the fact that because of its colour, it is regarded as something kindred to blood. Many deposits of red ochre which are found m the Arunta territory are even supposed to be the coagulated blood which certain heroines of the mythical period shed on to the soil.9                                   

Hair has similar properties. The natives of the centre wear belts made of liuman hair, whose religious functions we have already pointed out : they are also used to wrap up certain

instruments of the cult.1 Does one man loan another one of his churinga ? As a sign of acknowledgment, the second makes a present of hair to the first; these two sorts of things are there­fore thought to be of the same order and of equivalent value.2 So the operation of cutting the hair is a ritual act, accompanied by definite ceremonies : the individual operated upon must squat on the ground, with his face turned in the direction of the place where the fabulous ancestors from which the clan of his mother is believed to be descended, are thought to have camped.3 For the same reason, as soon as a man is dead, they cut his hair off and put it away in some distant place, for neither women nor the non-initiated have the right of seeing it : it is here, far from profane eyes, that the belts are made.4

Other organic tissues might be mentioned which have similar properties, in varying degrees: such are the whiskers, the fore­skin, the fat of the liver, etc.5 But it is useless to multiply examples. Those already given are enough to prove that there is something in man which holds profane things at a distance and which possesses a religious power ; in other words, the human organism conceals within its depths a sacred principle, which visibly comes to tlie surface in certain determined cases. This principle does not differ materially from that which causes the religious character of the totem. In fact, we have just seen that the different substances in which it incarnates itself especially enter into the ritual composition of the objects of the cult (nurtunja, totemic designs), or else are used in the anointings whose object is to renew the virtues either of the churinga or of the sacred rocks ; they are things of the same species.

Sometimes the religious dignity which is inherent in each member of the clan on this account is not equal for all. Men possess it to a higher degree than women ; in relation to them, women are like profane beings.6 Thus, every time that there is

an assembly, either of the totemic group or of the tribe, the men have a separate camp, distinct from that of the women, and into which these latter may not enter : they are separated off.1 But there are also differences in the way in which men are marked with a religious character. The young men not yet initiated are wholly deprived of it, since they are not admitted to the ceremonies. It is among the old men that it reaches its greatest intensity. They are so very sacred that certain things forbidden to ordinary people are permissible for them : they may eat the totemic animal more freely and, as we have seen, there are even some tribes where they are freed from all dietetic re­strictions.

So we must be careful not to consider totemism a sort of animal worship. The attitude of a man towards the animals or plants whose name he bears is not at all that of a believer to­wards his god, for he belongs to the sacred world himself. Their relations are rather those of two beings who are on the same level and of equal value. The most that can be said is that in certain cases, at least, the animal seems to occupy a slightly more elevated place in the hierarchy of sacred things. It is because of this that it is sometimes called the father or the grandfather of the men of the clan, which seems to show that they feel themselves in a state of moral dependence in regard to it.2 But in other, and perhaps even more frequent cases, it happens that the expressions used denote rather a sentiment of equality. The totemic animal is called the friend or the elder brother of its human fellows.3 Finally, the bonds which exist between them and it are much more like those which unite the members of a single family ; the animals and the men are made of the same flesh, as the Buandik say.4 On account of this kinship, men regard the animals of the totemic species as kindly associates upon whose aid they think they can rely. They call them to their aid5 and they come, to direct their blows in the hunt and to give warning of whatever dangers there may be.6

In return for this, men treat them with regard and are never cruel to them;1 but these attentions in no way resemble a cult.

Men sometimes even appear to have a mysterious sort of property-right over their totems.  The prohibition against killing and eating them is applied only to members of the clan, of course ; it could not be extended to other persons without making life practically impossible. If, in a tribe like the Arunta, where there is such a host of different totems, it were forbidden to eat, not only the animal or plant whose name one bears, but also all the animals and all the plants which serve as totems to other clans, the sources of food would be reduced to nothing. Yet there are tribes where the consumption of the totemic plant or animal is not allowed without restrictions, even to foreigners. Among the Wakelbura, it must not take place in the presence of men of this totem.2 In other places, their permission must be given. For example, among the Kaitish and the Unmatjera, whenever a man of the Emu totem happens to be in a place occupied by a grass-seed clan, and gathers some of these seed, before eating them he must go to the chief and say to him,3 I have gathered these seeds in your country." To this the chief replies, " All right; you may eat them." But if the Emu man ate them before demanding permission, it is believed that he would fall sick and run the risk of dying.3 There are even cases where the chief of the group must take a little of the food and eat it himself: it is a sort of payment which must be made.4 For the same reason, the churinga gives the hunter a certain power over the corresponding animal: by rubbing his body with a Euro churinga, for example, a man acquires a greater chance of catching euros.5 This is the proof that the fact of participating in the nature of a totemic being confers a sort of eminent right over this latter. Finally, there is one tribe in northern Queensland, the Karingbool, where the men of the totem are the only ones who have a right to kill the animal or, if the totem is a tree, to peel off its bark. Their aid is indispensable to all others who want to use the flesh of this animal or the wood of this tree for their own personal ends.6 So they appear as proprietors, though it is quite evidently over a special sort of property, of which we find it hard to form an idea.