The first conception of a dualty in man's nature has been attributed to various causes; it may be the result of a combination of causes. There is the shadow upon the ground, separate, yet inseparable; the reflection of the form upon the water; the echo of the voice, the adventures of fancy portrayed by dreams. Self is divisible from and inseparably connected with this other self. Herefrom arise innumerable superstitions; it was portentous of misfortune for one's clothes to be stepped on; no food must be left uneaten; nail clippings and locks of hair must not fall into the hands of an enemy. Catlin, in sketching his portraits, often narrowly escaped with his life, the Indians believing that in their likenesses he carried away their other self. And when death comes, and this other self departs, whither has it gone? The lifeless body remains, but where is the life? The mind cannot conceive of the total extinguishment of an entity, and so the imagination rears a local habitation for every departed spirit. Every phenomenon and every event is analyzed under this hypothesis. For every event there is not only a cause, but a personal cause, an independent agent behind every consequence. Every animal, every fish and bird, every rock and stream and plant, the ripening fruit, the falling rain, the uncertain wind, the sun and stars, are all personified. There is no disease without its god or devil, no fish entangled in the net, no beast or bird that falls before the hunter, without its special sender.
Savages are more afraid of a dead man than a live one. They are overwhelmed with terror at the thought of this unseen power over them. The spirit of the departed is omnipotent and omnipresent. At any cost or hazard it must be propitiated. So food is placed in the grave; wives and slaves, and horses and dogs, are slain, and in spirit sent to serve the ghost of the departed; phantom messengers are sent to the region of shadows from time to time; the messengers sometimes even volunteering to go. So boats and weapons and all the property of the deceased are burned or deposited with him. In the hand of the dead child is placed a toy; in that of the departed warrior, the symbolic pipe of peace, which is to open a tranquil entrance into his new abode; clothes, and ornaments, and paint, are conveniently placed, and thus a proper personal appearance guaranteed. Not that the things themselves are to be used, but the souls of things. The body of the chief rots, as does the material substance of the articles buried with it; but the soul of every article follows the soul of its owner, to serve its own peculiar end in the land of phantoms.
THE WORSHIP OF DEAD ANCESTORS.
The Chinese, grown cunning with the great antiquity of their burial customs, which require money and food to be deposited for the benefit of the deceased, spiritualize the money, by making an imitation coin of pasteboard, while the food, untouched by the dead, is finally eaten by themselves.
But whence arises the strange propensity of all primitive nations to worship animals, and plants, and stones, things animate and inanimate, natural and supernatural? Why is it that all nations or tribes select from nature some object which they hold to be sacred, and which they venerate as deity? It is the opinion of Herbert Spencer that "the rudimentary form of all religion is the propitiation of dead ancestors, who are supposed to be still existing, and to be capable of working good or evil to their descendants." It is the universal custom with savage tribes, as the character of their members becomes developed, to drop the real name of individuals and to fix upon them the attribute of some external object, by whose name only they are afterwards known. Thus a swift runner is called the 'antelope,' the slow of foot, the 'tortoise,' a merciless warrior, the 'wolf,' a dark-eyed maid may be likened to the 'raven,' a majestic matron to the 'cypress.' And so the rivulet, the rock, the dawn, the sun, and even elements invisible, are seized upon as metaphors and fastened upon individuals, according to a real or fancied resemblance between the qualities of nature and the character of the men. Inferiority and baseness, alike with nobleness and wise conduct, perpetuate a name. Even in civilized societies, a nickname often takes the place of the real name. Schoolboys are quick to distinguish peculiarities in their fellows, and fasten upon them significant names. A dull scholar is called 'cabbage-head,' the girl with red ringlets, 'carrots.' In the family there is the greedy 'pig,' the darling 'duck,' the little 'lamb.' In new countries, and abnormal communities, where strangers from all parts are promiscuously thrown together, not unfrequently men live on terms of intimacy for years without ever knowing each other's real name. Among miners, such appellations as 'Muley Bill,' 'Sandy,' 'Shorty,' 'Sassafras Jack,' often serve all the purposes of a name. In more refined circles, there is the hypocritical 'crocodile,' the sly 'fox,' the gruff 'bear.' We say of the horse, 'he is as fleet as the wind,' of a rapid accountant, 'he is as quick as lightning.' These names, which are used by us but for the moment, or to fit occasions, are among rude nations permanent—in many instances the only name a person ever receives.
Sometimes the nickname of the individual becomes first a family name and then a tribal name; as when the chief, 'Coyote,' becomes renowned, his children love to call themselves 'Coyotes.' The chieftainship descending to the son and grandson of Coyote, the name becomes famous, the Coyote family the dominant family of the tribe; members of the tribe, in their intercourse with other tribes, call themselves 'coyotes,' to distinguish themselves from other tribes; the head, or tail, or claws, or skin, of the coyote ornaments the dress or adorns the body; the name becomes tribal, and the animal the symbol or totem of the tribe. After a few generations have passed, the great chieftain, Coyote, and his immediate progeny are forgotten; meanwhile the beast becomes a favorite with the people; he begins to be regarded as privileged; is not hunted down like other beasts; the virtues and exploits of the whole Coyote clan become identified with the brute; the affections of the people are centered in the animal, and finally, all else being lost and forgotten, the descendants of the chieftain, Coyote, are the offspring of the veritable beast, coyote.
ABSTRACT CONCEPTIONS, MONSTERS, AND METAPHORS.
Concerning image-worship and the material representation of ideal beings, Mr. Tylor believes that "when man has got some way in developing the religious element in him, he begins to catch at the device of setting up a puppet, or a stone, as the symbol and representative of the notions of a higher being which are floating in his mind."
Primitive languages cannot express abstract qualities. For every kind of animal or bird or plant there may be a name, but for animals, plants, and birds in general, they have no name or conception. Therefore, the abstract quality becomes the concrete idea of a god, and the descendants of a man whose symbolic name was 'dog,' from being the children of the man become the children of the dog.
Hence also arise monsters, beings compounded of beast, bird, and fish, sphinxes, mermaids, human-headed brutes, winged animals; as when the descendant of the 'hawk' carries off a wife from the 'salmon' tribe, a totem representing a fish with a hawk's head for a time keeps alive the occurrence and finally becomes the deity.