Elements of Folk Psychology / Outline of a Psychological History of the Development of Mankind

by Wilhelm Max Wundt

Although this theory is doubtless in greater consonance with certain general characteristics of myth development than is the ancestor theory, we would urge, as one chief objection, the fact that its god-concept unites mythological-religious elements of a very different nature. In particular, the so-called 'god of a moment' is neither a god, in the proper sense of the word, nor even a demon, but either a particular impression arousing fear, or, on a higher plane, a single manifestation of the activity of a demon or god. The Greeks referred the flash of lightning to Zeus, the lightning-hurler. On a more primitive level, the North American Indian sees in the lightning and thunder the acts of a demon hidden in the clouds. In neither case are the momentary phenomena identified with gods or demons themselves. There is not a shadow of proof in the entire history of myth that such acts or attributes as these, which were attributed to gods and demons, ever existed as independent realities of even but a moment's duration. The so-called 'particular gods,' on the other hand, are in every respect demons and not gods. They are not personal in nature; this also implies that they are not conceived as having a particular form, for somehow the latter always leads to personalization. As a matter of fact, these 'particular gods' are only objectified emotions of fear and terror. Spirits, in the sense of magical agents of disease conceived as invisible beings, or occasionally imaged in the form of fantastic though ever-changing animal shapes, are not gods, but demons. The same holds true of the multitude of nature demons that infest field and forest and the vicinity of streams and gorges. Wherever myth has given these spirits definite forms, they reveal no evidence of traits such as would constitute them individual personalities. This, of course, does not imply that there are no cases at all in which the indeterminate traits ascribed to them are so combined as to result in individual beings. When this occurs, however, we have already transcended the stage of so-called 'particular gods.' Such beings as the Greek Pan or the Germanic Hel must already be classed with gods proper, even though they exhibit traits indicative of a demoniacal past; for the narrowness of character which they manifest results from the fact that they originated directly in a particular emotion. Surely, therefore, the decisive emphasis in the case of deity ideas in general must be placed on the attribute of personality. Gods are personal beings, whose characters reflect the peculiarity of the people who have created them. We see in the god Jahve of the Israelites the clear-cut lines of the stern god who threatens the disobedient, but who also rewards the faithful. More impressive still is the uniqueness of personality in those cases in which a multiplicity of gods causes the development of diverse and partly opposed characteristics in the various gods. How individual are the gods of the Greeks with respect to one another! Under the influence of poetry every god has here become a clearly defined personality, whose individuality was fixed by formative art. Thus, the error of the demon theory or, as it might also be called, the three-stage theory, lies in the fact that it effaces the essential distinctions between god and demon, retaining as the chief characteristic of the multitude of resulting deity-conceptions only the most external quality, that of permanence. For the 'god of a moment' is characterized merely by his extreme transitoriness; the 'particular god' is the 'god of a moment' become somewhat more enduring but not yet possessed of sufficient stability to develop personal traits; the true or personal god, finally, owes his distinctive attribute solely to the permanence of his characteristics. Because of this confusion of the concepts god and demon, there is lacking precisely that which is of most importance for a psychological investigation—namely, an answer to the question as to the intrinsic marks that differentiate a god, in the proper and only true sense of the word, from demons, ancestors, and souls—in short, from all other creations of mythological thought.

Herewith we come to a question which will bring us closer to an answer respecting the origin of gods. By what characteristic marks is a mythological conception to be distinguished as that of an actual god? The question might also be stated in a more concrete form. What characteristics differentiate a god from a demon, who is not yet a god because he lacks personality, and from a hero, who is regarded by the age in which gods originate as somewhat approximating a god but as nevertheless still a man? Or, briefly expressed, how does the god differ from the demon and from the ideal man? The criteria thus demanded are to be found in the traits that are universally ascribed to gods wherever any complete deity mythology and a corresponding religion have been developed. The god is always distinguished by three characteristics. The first of these is that his place of abode is other than that of man. He may occasionally visit man on the earth, but this occurs only rarely. So far as he himself is concerned, the god lives in another world. In this sense, the idea of a 'beyond' is closely bound up with that of gods. As a rule, the 'beyond' is the heavenly world. But gods may dwell also in the regions of the air and clouds between the heaven and the earth, on high mountains, on distant islands, or, finally, under special circumstances, in the depths of the earth. Secondly, the gods lead a perfect life, free, on the whole, from the evils and infirmities of earthly existence. A perfect life, however, is always regarded as primarily a life without death and without sickness. There then develops, though doubtless gradually, the idea of something even more perfect than is involved in this merely negative conception of immortal and painless existence. But at this point ideas begin to differ, so that, in reality, the most universal characteristics of the gods are that they know neither death nor sickness. There are occasional exceptions, however, just as there are with respect to the supra-mundane place of abode. The Greek as well as the Germanic deity sagas represent the gods as possessing a particular food and a particular drink, an idea connected with that of the anthropomorphic nature of these gods. The Germanic gods, especially, are described as capable of maintaining their perfect life only by far exceeding the human measure of food and drink. This, however, is but a subordinate feature. More important is the fact that if, by any unfortunate circumstance, food and drink are lacking, the gods waste away and meet the universal lot of human existence—death. But, even apart from this connection, the Germanic sagas, or at any rate the poetry inspired by them, tell of a decline of gods and of the rise of a new divine hierarchy. It is not to be assumed, of course, that this represents an original element in Germanic mythology. All records of Germanic deity sagas, as we know, date from Christian times. Even though the ancient skalds, as well as those historians who regarded the saga as a bit of actual history, may have made every effort to preserve for posterity the memory of this departed world, they could, nevertheless, hardly have avoided mingling certain Christian ideas with tradition. In view of the actual decline of the former gods, the thought of a Götterdämmerung, in particular, must almost inevitably have forced itself upon them. At any rate, inasmuch as this particular conception represents the gods as subject to death, it contains an element that is bound up with the anthropomorphic nature of the divine beings, though this, of course, is irreconcilable with the immortality originally conceded to them. We are thus brought to the most important characteristic of gods, which is connected with this very fact of their similarity to man. The god is a personality; he has a specific personal character, which gives direction to his will and leads him to send blessings or misfortunes to mortals. These purely human characteristics, however, he possesses in an exalted and complete measure. His will-acts, as well as the emotion from which they spring and the insight by which they are guided, are superhuman in power. But this power is not equivalent to omnipotence. This it cannot be by very reason of the multiplicity of gods, each of whom has a particular sphere of activity. Frequently, moreover, omnipotence is rendered impossible by the idea—likewise carried over from the terrestrial to the supermundane world—of a destiny, an impersonal power behind the wills of gods no less than those of men. This is a conception which deity beliefs inherit from the earlier demon beliefs. True, polytheistic myth itself takes a step in the direction of transcending this limitation when it here also transfers the conditions of the human order to the divine world, and creates for the latter a monarch, a supreme deity ruling over gods and men. But this very projection of human relations into the divine realm prevents the chief deity from being an unlimited ruler. On the one hand, he shares authority with a deliberative assembly consisting of the remaining gods; on the other hand, even behind him there lurk those demoniacal powers which, to a certain extent, continued to assert themselves even after they had been superseded by the gods. For here also it holds true that whatever lives in folk-belief must retain a foundation in myth. The advent of gods nowhere led to the complete banishment of demons. What occurred was that, due to the power of the gods, certain of the demons likewise developed into mighty forces of destiny, though continuing to remain impersonal.

Thus, the god possesses three characteristics: a special dwelling-place, immortality, and a superhuman, though at the same time a human, personality. Leaving out of regard the tribute exacted even of the gods by the last-mentioned of these characteristics, human nature, we have before us the marks which distinguish the god both from the demon and from the hero. The demon, however powerful he may be, lacks the attribute of personality; the hero, as thoroughly human, shares the universal lot of man as regards dwelling-place, length of life, and liability to sickness and death. This places the god midway between the demon and the hero, though, of course, by combining the attributes of both, he is really exalted above them. The demon, in the sense in which the Greeks employed this term, is a fundamental element in the development of all mythologies. There can be no doubt, moreover, that demons appeared far earlier than gods, if we exclude from among the latter those indefinite and transitory personifications of natural phenomena that have wrongly been classed with them—such personifications as those of rocks, hills, clouds, stars, etc., which were widely current even among peoples of nature. According to a belief which has not entirely disappeared even among cultural peoples, the soul leaves the corpse in the form of a demon; the wandering ghost is a demon; demons dwell in the depths, in the neighbourhood of streams, in solitary ravines, in forests and fields, upon and beneath the earth. They are usually threatening, though sometimes beneficent, powers. In every instance, however, they are absolutely impersonal embodiments of the emotions of fear and hope, and it is these emotions, under the assimilative influences of impressions of external nature, that have given rise to them. Thus, demons are usually mundane beings, or, at any rate, have their abode near the surface of the earth; with few exceptions, the most distant realm which they occupy is that of the clouds, particularly the dark rain and thunder clouds. True, the heavenly bodies may manifest demoniacal powers, just as may also the gods. As a rule, however, celestial phenomena are far from belonging to the class of demons proper; they are too constant and too regular in their changes and movements to be thus included. The activity of demons relates exclusively to the welfare of man. Hence it is but natural that demons should be primarily man's co-inhabitants on earth. Usually invisible, they assume sensuously perceptible forms only in the darkness of night, or, more especially, under the influence of heightened emotions. Sometimes they are audible even when invisible. Only in those narratives which tell of demoniacal beings that are not immediately present do demons acquire fairly definite forms. Thus, even soul beliefs—which the fear of the uncanny activity of the departed soul transforms directly into a sort of demon belief—represent the soul in the form of a bird, a snake, or of other specific 'soul animals.' The demons of sickness lurking within the diseased body are usually portrayed as fantastic animals, whose monstrous forms reflect the terrible distress and the torturing pains of sickness. These animals hinder respiration and bore into and lacerate the intestines. Thus, they objectify both the pain of the sickness and the fear aroused in the community by the behaviour of the sick person. No less, however, can the impression of the desert, the dark forest, the lonely ravine, or the terror of an approaching storm cause demons, which are in first instance invisible, to assume definite shapes. Where there is a more highly developed sense of nature, such as begins to manifest itself in the heroic age, this objectification of impressions occurs not only under the influence of strong excitement but also in connection with the peaceful landscape. Here it gives rise to more friendly beings, in the case of whom those characteristics, at least, which made the original demon an object of terror, are moderated so as to find expression in magic of a playful sort. This is the origin of satyrs, sylphs and fauns, of gnomes, giants and dwarfs, elves, fairies, etc., all of whom are debarred from personality by their very multiplicity, while their generic character accurately reflects the mood which led to their creation. The individualization of certain of these beings is, in general, due to poetry. But even poetry does not entirely succeed in freeing the demon from the generic character which once for all represents its nature. Thus, it is the contrast between genericalness and individual personality that differentiates the demon from the god. Every gnome resembles every other, and all nymphs are alike; hence these beings are generally referred to in the plural. Their multiplicity is such that they are imaged in only indefinite forms, except in cases where particularly strong emotions excite a more lively imagination. Indeed, they may be present to consciousness solely as a peculiar feeling associated with particular places or occasions, such as is the case with the Lares, Manes, and Penates of the Romans, and with the similar guardian spirits of the house and the field common among many peoples. Some of these guardian spirits are not very unlike the ancestors of cult. But this only indicates that the ancestor worshipped in cult also approximates to the demon, acquiring a more personal character only in occasional instances in which memory has preserved with considerable faithfulness the traits of a particularly illustrious ancestor. Here, then, we have the condition underlying the origin of gods. Gods are universally the result of a union of demoniacal and heroic elements. The god is at once demon and hero; since, however, the demoniacal element in him magnifies his heroic attributes into the superhuman, and since the personal character which he borrows from the hero supersedes the indefinite and impersonal nature of the demon, he is exalted above them both: the god himself is neither hero nor demon, because he combines in himself the attributes of both, in an ideally magnified form.

The resemblance of demons to gods is due primarily to the magic power which they exert. The demons of sickness torture and destroy men; the cloud demons bring rain and blessing to the fields, or plot ruin when rain does not relieve the drought of the burning sun. By means of magic incantations and ceremonies, these demons can be won over, or, when angry, reconciled. Their own activity, therefore, is magical, and, as regards the effects that it produces, superhuman. In their fleeting and impersonal character, however, they are subhuman. Since the dominant emotions that call them into being are fear and terror, they are generally regarded as enemies not only of man but even of the gods. The struggle between gods and nature-demons is a recurrent theme in the cosmogonies of all cultural peoples. This hostility between demons and gods is connected with the contrast in the feelings evoked by darkness and radiant brightness. Hence the mighty nature-demons are, as a rule, consigned to gloomy abysses, from which they rise to the sky only occasionally, as, for example, in the case of thunder-clouds. The abode of the gods, however, is in the bright celestial realms, and they themselves are radiant beings upon whose activity the harmonious order of nature and the happiness of mankind are dependent. In the strife which the demons carry on with gods, they occasionally develop into counter-gods, as occurred in the case of the Persian Ahriman and the Jewish-Christian Satan. Yet it is significant of the almost insuperable lack of personality characteristic of the demon, that even these counter-gods of darkness and evil are wanting in one trait which is indispensable for a completely developed personality—namely, changes in motives and the capacity to determine at will the nature of these changes. Herein, again, is reflected the fact that the demon has but a single source—namely, fear.

Very different from the relation of the god to the demon is his relation to the hero. The hero, to a greater extent even than the god, is the complete opposite of the demon. For the hero is an idealized man. He is subject to all human destinies, to sickness and death, to afflictions of the soul, and to violent passions. Yet in all these instances the experiences are of a more exalted nature than in the case of ordinary human life. The life as well as the death of the hero are of wide import; the effects of his deeds extend to distant lands and ages. But it is just because the hero is the ideal man himself that he possesses all the more markedly the attribute which the demon lacks—namely, personality. This, of course, does not prevent his character from exhibiting generic differences and antitheses. But herein also the hero is only the idealized counterpart of man, for, despite all its uniqueness and individuality, man's character usually conforms to certain types. Thus, legend introduces the strong, all-conquering hero, and, in contrast with him, the hero who is resourceful and overcomes his enemies through subtle cunning. It tells of the aged man, superior in wisdom and experience, and also of him who, in the unbroken strength of youth and with stormy passion, overthrows all opponents. It further portrays the hero who plots evil, but who is nevertheless characterized by a sharply defined personality.

When we survey these various heroic figures in both their generic and their individual aspects and compare them with the god-personalities, we are struck by the fact that the god was not created directly in the image of a man, but rather in that of the hero, man idealized. It is the hero who gives to the gods those very characteristics which the demon lacks from the outset. Of these, the most important are personality, self-consciousness, and a will controlled by diverse and frequently conflicting motives. This multiplicity of motives has a close connection with the multiplicity of gods. Polytheism is not an accidental feature which may or may not accompany the belief in gods; it is a necessary transitional stage in the development of the god-idea. Folk-belief, which never frees itself entirely from mythology, always retains a plurality of divine beings. Hence true monotheism represents a philosophical development of the god-idea. Though this development was not without influence on the theological speculation which was dominated by traditional doctrines, it was never able to uproot the polytheistic tendency involved in the god-idea from the very beginning. There are two sources from which this tendency springs. Of these, one is external and, therefore, though of great importance for the beginnings of religious development, is transitory. It consists in the influence exerted by the multiplicity of natural phenomena, through the nature myth, upon the number of gods. More important and of more permanent significance is the second or internal motive, namely, the fact that the psychical needs that come to expression in the demand for gods are numerous. There cannot be a single god-ideal any more than a single type of hero. On the contrary, as heroes exhibit the diversity of human effort on an exalted plane, so, in turn, does the realm of gods represent, on a still higher level, the world of heroes. This advance beyond the hero-ideal becomes possible to the mythological imagination only because the very endeavour to exalt the hero above the human itself brought the hero-idea, at the very time of its origin, into connection with the demon-idea. For the demon is a superhuman being, magic-working and unpredictable, affecting in mysterious ways the course of nature and of human destiny. But it lacks the familiar human traits which make the hero an object not only of fear but also of admiration and love. Thus, the fusion of hero and demon results in the final and the greatest of mythological creations, the conception which represents the birth of religion in the proper and ultimately only true sense of the word. I refer to the rise of gods.

The god-idea, accordingly, is the product of two component factors. One of these, the demoniacal, has had a long history, extending back to the beginnings of mythological thought; the other, the heroic, begins to assert itself the very moment that the figure of the hero appears. This implies that god-ideas are neither of sudden origin nor unchangeable, but that they undergo a gradual development. The direction of development is determined by the relation which its two component factors sustain to each other. The earliest god-ideas are predominantly demoniacal in nature—personal characteristics are few, while magical features are all the more pronounced. Then the heroic element comes to the fore, until it finally acquires such dominance that even the magical power of the god appears to be a result of his heroic might, rather than a survival of the demoniacal nature which was his from the very beginning. In connection with this change, it is significant to note that, as the god loses his original demoniacal character, he comes to be attended by subservient beings who remain, in every respect, demons. On the one hand, these beings execute the divine commands; on the other hand, however—as an echo, one might say, of the age of demons which precedes that of gods—they are superior even to the gods in that they possess magical powers. These beings must be regarded as survivals of the age of demons. Between them and the gods proper there are intermediate beings, just as there are between heroes and gods, those of the latter sort being exemplified particularly by such heroes as have been exalted into deities. Inasmuch as all the intermediate forms that arise in the course of this transition continue in existence even up to the culmination of the development, the gods constantly become more numerous. Side by side with the gods, demons maintain their sway. At times, they contend with the gods; in other instances, they are subservient to them; again, as in the earliest periods of mythological thought, they are without any knowledge whatsoever of the existence of gods. The hero also is invariably associated with the god. With the decline of the heroic age, therefore, the realm of gods also disappears. Though the religious developments that ensue have their origin in deity beliefs, they nevertheless discard the original nucleus of these beliefs—namely, the gods themselves—or, at any rate, they retain gods only in a greatly altered form.

That gods belong essentially to the heroic age appears also in the fact that the divine realm mirrors in detail the relations of political society developed subsequently to the beginning of the heroic age. The world of gods likewise forms a divine State. It is at most at an early period that the tribal gods of various peoples betray the influence of the ancient tribal organization that preceded the State. In the supremacy of a single god, however, the idea of rulership, which is basal to the State, is transferred also to the divine realm. This is true whether the ruling deity exercises command over a subservient host of demons and subordinate gods, or whether he has at his side a number of independent gods, who represent, in part, an advisory council, such as is found associated with the earthly ruler, and, in part, since the different gods possess diverse powers, a sort of celestial officialdom. Finally, the multiplicity of independent States is mirrored in the multiplicity of the independent realms ruled over by the gods. The differentiation, in this latter case, corresponds with the main directions of human interest. The development is influenced, moreover, by those natural phenomena that have long factored in the capacity of assimilative elements. Over against the bright celestial gods are the subterranean gods who dwell in the gloomy depths. For the inhabitants of the sea-coast and of islands, furthermore, there is a ruler of the sea. The importance of the god of the sea, however, is subordinate to that of the rulers of the celestial and the nether worlds, so that those over whom he holds sway never develop into clearly defined personalities, but always retain more of a demoniacal character. All the more important, therefore, are the contrasts between the celestial and the nether worlds, as the two realms which include the real destiny of man. At death, man must enter the nether world; to rise from the gloom of this realm of the dead to the heaven and immortality of the celestial gods becomes his longing. Thus, deity beliefs enter into reciprocal relations with soul conceptions. The further stages of this development carry us far beyond the heroic age, and reflect the influence of a diversity of motives. The discussion of this point will occupy our attention in later pages.

[1] Concerning this alleged monotheism among primitive peoples, cf. supra, pp.78 f.

12. THE HERO SAGA.