It is evident that a regular co-operation in fighting is effectually promoted by rhythmical music. And we do in fact find that music, especially instrumental music, at the lower stages of development is closely connected with war.[426] It is, however, more natural to assume that military music, and similarly military poetry and dance, have had their chief importance not as regulating but as stimulating influences. There are many tribes which seem quite unable to observe any kind of military discipline. But even in the undeveloped and unmethodical warfare of the lowest savages, music, songs, and dances have been used as means of infusing courage and strength. The psychology of these military stimuli is of course the same as that of industrial art. But the general principles appear with far greater clearness when applied to this peculiar kind of activity.
First of all, the need of stimulation is never so great as when a man has to risk his life in an open battle. If in work he has to overcome his natural inertia, laziness, he has here to overcome the still stronger obstacle of fear. Contrary to the romantic notions of popular literature, primitive man seems to be timorous rather than brave when not encouraged by adventitious excitement.[427] This cowardice can, however, to a great extent be explained by defective military organisation. Where the mutual support which the well-drilled soldiers of a regular army render each other is lacking, the need of personal courage is of course so much the greater. Civilised warfare tries to avoid the conflict between the instinct of self-preservation and of a soldier’s duty by the pressure of strict discipline; savage warfare, which cannot count on the same forces of submission and mental control, is compelled to minimise this conflict by deadening the consciousness of peril. Hence the indispensability of some means of producing violent excitement by which the necessary forgetfulness of danger and death may be attained.[428]
Apart from the influence of fear, the task of slaughter is one which, from its very nature, cannot be performed in cold blood. Even where the element of danger is absent, as when unarmed foes are killed or tortured, the savage executioners do not generally get to work straight away. As soon as a beginning has been made, a sort of intoxication will indeed be produced by mental as well as physical agencies, such as the sight of blood or the pride of conquest. But this intoxication, so eagerly desired by savages in civilised as well as in primitive communities, cannot be produced even in the lowest tribes of man without a preliminary working up. The passion of cruelty, like that of love, is, in its higher and more ecstatic forms, too overwhelming in its mental effects to be attained without an artificial enhancement of psychical capacity. But whereas the erotic feelings tend with growing development to become more and more a private matter, cruelty is among warlike tribes an emotion of national importance. The incitement to slaughter is therefore apt to become social—that is, common to several individuals at once. This is one of the reasons why war is of so much greater importance than love as a motive for tribal art.
There are some tribes in which the soldiers try to acquire courage and thirst for blood by magical expedients, such as smearing themselves with some powerful unguent, or eating the raw meat of a newly slaughtered ox.[429] Sometimes a joint tattooing of the whole corps with a common pattern is undertaken, most probably for the same magical purpose.[430] But however effectually such ceremonies may be supposed to operate, savages do not generally put so much trust in them as to give up their favourite means of stimulation—music and dancing. In people who sincerely believe in their own magic any rite will of course arouse increased confidence and courage. But this suggestive influence is only indirect in comparison with the immediate psychological effects of inciting dances.
Popular novels have familiarised us all with the weird war dances which play such an important part in the warfare of the North American Indians. In its main features this type of pantomimic incitement is the same everywhere—among the African and Oceanic tribes as well as among the savage nations described in classic literature.[431] By imitating the movements of a real fight, by exulting cries, deafening noise, and brandishing of weapons, the dancers work themselves up to a pitch of frenzy which cannot be compared to anything but a transient madness. Especially among the nations of America war dances often arouse so much excitement, even when performed during times of perfect peace, that they become dangerous to friendly and peaceful onlookers.[432] Here also—just as in the Hungarian “Enlistment”—dancing is used as a means of enticing men to join the ranks of the war chief who wants recruits for some war-expedition.[433]
It is evident that the influence of such pantomimes is not restricted to a generalised stimulation and encouragement. These sham fights, just as the sportive imitations of work, must facilitate the execution of those movements which they imitate. And even those who do not join the dance will profit by watching the evolutions which they themselves will afterwards be called on to perform in reality. Thus there may originally have been a very utilitarian reason for the curious warfare of the Headhunters of Ceram, who always have the Jakalele dance performed in front of their fighting line. It is pathetic to read that even in their wars with the Dutchmen a few fantastically dressed dancers head the advance against the repeating guns of the European force.[434]
This fact, which is certainly not without its parallels in other savage tribes, gives the most convincing proof of the indispensability of pantomimic stimulation to savage warfare. Although less intimately connected with fighting itself, poetry has had for war an importance which can scarcely be estimated at a much lower rate. Words, of course, can never provoke such a direct and almost physiological stimulation as the imitation of actions. But words, on the other hand, have a greater effect on the mind. The suggestive power of the war songs is also attested by the descriptions of travellers among various tribes. In Australia, for instance, four or five mischievously inclined old women can soon stir up forty or fifty men to any deed of blood by means of their chants, which are accompanied by tears and groans, until the men are worked into a perfect state of frenzy.[435] “The savage blood of the Ahts always boiled when the war songs were recited, their fingers worked convulsively on the paddles, and their eyes gleamed ferociously; altogether they were two hundred murderous-looking villains.”[436] In Ashanti and in New Zealand—in short, amongst all the most warlike tribes—the military singers are able to bring themselves and their audience up to a pitch of frenzy which is almost equal to that produced by the dances.[437]
In one of the preceding chapters we have already pointed out how invaluable a support historic art has given to national pride. This feeling, on the other hand, is never so indispensable as in time of war. Wherever a tribe has any traditions of its past history, such traditions are always revived and recited to the soldiers before and during the battles.[438] And if a people has no glorious ancestors to boast of, it can none the less gain the necessary confidence by glorifying its own valour and reviling its enemies. Even tribes like the Bakairis, for example, are thus able to “sing themselves full of courage” in boasting and defiant exultation.[439]
According to competent observers, such songs are more particularly employed when the natives are afraid.[440] The expression of bravery, even if originally affected, must necessarily awaken some real feeling of pride or confidence. Contempt, on the other hand, however laboriously worked up, is the most effectual means of preserving equanimity under the stress of depressing feelings, admiration, envy, or fear. Songs and pantomimes, such as, for instance, those with which the Polynesians invariably begin their battles, must therefore have a great power of emboldening the warriors.[441] And while such outward shows of valour enable the performers to reconquer their courage, the enemy is intimidated by these manifestations of a feeling which is as yet incipient within themselves. In warfare, where the hostile armies stand within sight and hearing of each other, this consideration must of course be of extreme importance.
It seems, indeed, as if natural selection had developed in man an almost instinctive tendency to overcome fear by simulating the expressions proper to valour and menace. Just as animals, when frightened, make themselves bigger and more formidable to their enemies, whether from fear or anger we know not, so man tries to awaken fear in the enemy confronting him at the same time, and by the same means, as he vanquishes his own fear. This appears with especial clearness in wars between savage races, where both sides often seem to be as timid as they try to appear formidable and courageous. Their threats and boastings are terrifying enough, but the real fights are very bloodless and free from danger. Among the Cammas “the words really seem to do more damage than the blows.”[442] The gallant game of bluff is in primitive politics not restricted to diplomatic negotiations; it plays an important part in the actual fighting. This remains true even with regard to tribes which are capable of real courage, not only in stealthy assault, but also in open battle. The Maorian military pantomimes afford the best example of such a manifestation, which not only stimulates the warriors to fight and regulates their movements in the battle, but also, as a European traveller has been compelled to admit, “strikes terror into the heart of any man.”[443] In this case the terrible effect is further strengthened by the hideous grimaces, rolling of the eyes, protruding of the tongue, and so on, with which the warriors accompany their dance.[444] So important is this distortion of the countenance considered by the Maoris, that instruction in the art of grimacing forms a part in their military education.[445] The most warlike of savage tribes thus does not despise the naïve expedient which constitutes almost the sole means of self-defence among peaceful Eskimos.[446] And so highly do the Maoris appreciate the terrifying effects of the protruded tongue, that they carve the grimace upon their spears, the “hanis,” evidently in the belief that such representations will—perhaps by some magic power—demoralise the enemy.[447]