ART AND MAGIC
Sympathetic magic has in recent times become a favourite subject of
scientific study. We may therefore proceed to trace the influence which
this important factor has exercised on the development of art-forms
without going through the labour of presenting and describing the
evidence of its occurrence at the different stages of evolution. It
is sufficient to refer to the copious and detailed researches of
Hartland, Frazer, Béranger-Féraud, and others. What we need is only a
psychological interpretation of all the facts which have been brought
together by these authors.
The instances of sympathetic magic are naturally divided into two
main classes, which, broadly speaking, correspond to the two types of
association. But just as in psychology it is often difficult to decide
whether a given associative process has its origin in a relation of
contiguity or in one of similarity, so it is often an open question
to which group a given superstition is to be assigned. It may even be
possible to deduce both groups from one common and fundamental magical
principle.
However the definitive theoretical explanation may turn out, we have
for the present to uphold a distinction between the two forms. And in
order to start from the facts that are simpler and easier to explain,
we shall first devote our attention to _sympathetic magic based on a
material connection between things_.
The superstitious notions which can be brought together under this
heading are familiar to every one. There is scarcely a single book on
ethnology or folklore which does not present some illustrations of the
belief that by acting upon a part of a given whole we may influence
this whole as well as all its other parts. This universal doctrine of
a solidarity between the things that have entered as parts in the same
material totality has given rise all over the world to beliefs and
practices which, although varying in details, are essentially similar
in general character. We need only refer to the well-known folk-beliefs
as to the necessity of caution in disposing of clippings of hair or
nails, of saliva, or anything else removed from the human body. Such
objects, it is supposed, would give any enemy into whose hands they
might fall the power of injuring through them the person from whom
they had proceeded.[467] Almost equally universal is the belief that
close relatives, as being ingredients in—or perhaps rather partakers
of—the same whole, the family, are bound together in a quite material
solidarity of suffering. From the sociological point of view this group
of superstitions, owing to the social importance of the last-mentioned
totality, is of especial interest; and therefore the curious customs
concerning the relation between a father and his unborn child, between
husband and wife, ancestors and descendants, etc., which no doubt are
all based on the idea of a material connection, have been treated of
with due completeness in sociological literature.[468] Equally valuable
for the psychological interpretation, although less pregnant with
social import, are all the petty tricks of sorcery in connection with
hunting, fishing, agriculture, and so on, which are practised even now
among most European nations.[469] From the array of facts inserted by
Mr. Hartland in his monumental commentary on the _Legend of Perseus_,
we can form an opinion of the wide and deep-going influences which the
belief in magical connection between things materially connected has
exercised in all departments of life. And besides this ethnological
apparatus, Mr. Hartland gives us in this work a most complete and
definite account of the world-view which lies behind all these
superstitious beliefs and practices.
More light, however, is thrown on the philosophy of this superstition
by the researches of M. Rochas d’Aiglun than by any work on scientific
ethnology and folklore. This is not said in order to detract in any
way from the merits of Messrs. Hartland and Frazer. But although
nothing could surpass the erudition of these scholars, they could
not, in point of sympathetic and intelligent representation, stand
on a level with an author who himself believes in the reality of his
facts. For those, therefore, who wish to understand the motives,
conscious or unconscious, by which the adepts of sympathetic magic
justify their practices, nothing could be more instructive than a
perusal of _L’extériorisation de la motricité_ and _L’extériorisation
de la sensibilité_. In these works M. Rochas has not only minutely
summarised the seventeenth century theories and observations of Digby
and Papin:[470] he has also supplemented these old “facts” with his
own experiments on objects that have been saturated with sensibility
and motor power by contact with living bodies. The power of relics,
love philtres, and charms is thus explained in a way which, however
fantastic, is nevertheless undeniably consistent and methodical.[471]
A savage or an uneducated man would indeed be unable to put his case
in the logical form which M. Rochas gives it. But if he understood
scientific terminology, he would doubtless ratify, as a true
interpretation of his own vague conceptions, the theory of sensitive
and motor effluvia which emanate from all living beings, and link them
to all objects to which they may pass. As a _bona fide_ statement
of magic principles in the language of modern psychology and modern
physics, M. Rochas’ works bring the old superstitions home to us with
unsurpassable force. We learn here to appreciate the powerful influence
which may in all times be exercised by the underlying belief in an
invisible magical chain connecting things which appear to be severed.
When we see a man of modern civilisation falling back upon these crude
notions, which appeared for a long time to be quite forgotten, we must
needs be convinced that the world-view of magic, however erroneous,
is, so to speak, a constitutional fallacy of the human mind. In every
department of human ethos, therefore, there is reason to look for the
possible effects of these conceptions.
For the present, however, we have to admit that sympathetic magic in
its simplest form seems to be without any influence on the origin
of works of art. It is very different with the second kind of
magic—namely, that where the occult influence is based upon _a likeness
between things_.
To judge from the literature of ethnology and folklore, this principle
seems to be almost as universal as that of magic by virtue of material
connection. Its influence can be traced in beliefs and practices, not
only of the lowest savages, but also of civilised nations. It has
received elaborate theoretical justification in the old systems of
Greek philosophy, in the theories of Agrippa and Paracelsus, and in
the tenets of modern homœopaths. And there are even some real facts,
such as the beneficial effects of inoculation and the “katharsis”
action of poetry—the curing of sorrow by tragedy—which are sometimes
quoted in support of the thesis that “like affects like.”[472] Apart
from all regard to such spurious arguments the theory of this form of
magic is scarcely less irrational than that underlying the first group
of facts. From our point of view, however, even the crudest forms of
“homœopathic” magic are of far greater interest than the examples of
sorcery by means of material connection. Whereas the adepts of the
latter need only procure a nail, a tuft of hair, or a few articles of
clothing belonging to the man they wish to bewitch, the sorcerer who
works by similarities is compelled to create a representation of things
and beings in order to acquire an influence over them. Thus magical
purposes call forth imitations of nature and life which, although
essentially non-æsthetic in their intention, may nevertheless be of
importance for the historical evolution of art.
To how great an extent works of art derive their material from old
magical practices, the real meaning of which has gradually fallen
into oblivion, may be shown in all the various departments of art.
There is not a single form of imitation which has not been more or
less influenced by this principle. Pantomimic representation, which
for us is of value only in virtue of its intellectual or emotional
expressiveness, was in lower stages of culture used as a magical
expedient. Even a single gesture may, according to primitive notions,
bring about effects corresponding to its import,[473] and a complete
drama is sincerely believed to cause the actual occurrence of the
action which it represents. Students of folklore know that there
is practically no limits to the effects which primitive man claims
to produce by magical imitation. He draws the rain from heaven by
representing in dance and drama the appropriate meteorological
phenomena.[474] He regulates the movements of the sun and encourages
it in the labour of its wanderings by his dramatic sun-rituals;[475]
and he may even influence the change of the seasons by dramas in which
he drives winter away and brings summer in.[476] By those phallic rites
to which we have already referred in the chapter on erotic art, he
tries in the same way to act upon the great biological phenomena of
human life.[477] And again, when sickness is to be cured, he tries to
subdue the demons of disease—to neutralise their action or to entice
them out of the body of the patient—by imitating in pantomime the
symptoms of the particular complaint.[478] Finally, when the assistance
of a divine power is required, the god himself may be conjured to take
his abode in the body of the performer, who imitates what is believed
to be his appearance, movements, and behaviour.[479] Thus the belief in
the effectual power of imitation has all over the world given rise to
common dramatic motives as universal as the belief itself, and uniform
as the chief requirements of mankind.
There are, no doubt, many instances of dramatic ritual the purpose
of which is as yet a matter of discussion. With regard to some of the
symbolic dances representing hunting or fishing or the movements of
game-animals, much may be said in favour of Mr. Farrer’s view that
the object of the pantomime is to make clearer to the deity a prayer
regarding the things imitated.[480] Similarly it is open to doubt
whether the dramatic performances at initiation ceremonies, such as,
for instance, the kangaroo dance described by Collins, are meant
to impart instruction concerning the customs of the animals to the
novitiates, or to confer upon them a magic power over the game.[481]
In the therapeutic practices of primitive tribes we may find still
more puzzling points of controversy. The sucking cure, for instance,
by which the medicine-man pretends to extract from the patient the
cause of his illness in the form of some small object—a pebble, a
tuft of hair, or the like—may be, as Professor Tylor thinks, a mere
“knavish trick.”[482] But it is also possible, we believe, that, at
least originally, it may have been performed as a _bona fide_ magic,
based upon the notion of the efficacy of vehicles and symbolic action.
The method of restoring sick people and sick cattle to health by
pulling them through a narrow opening, for instance, in a tree, which
has been explained by most authors as a case of magical transference
by contact—_i.e._ transference of the disease from the patient and of
the vital power represented by the tree to him[483]—ought, according
to the brilliant hypothesis of Professor Nyrop, to be considered as a
magically symbolic representation of regeneration.[484]
While leaving undecided all these subtle questions, each of which would
require a chapter of its own in order to be definitively treated, we
have only to maintain the great probability which stands on the side of
the dramatic interpretation. However fantastic the belief in a magical
connection between similar things may appear at the outset, a continued
ethnological study must needs convince every one of its incalculable
importance in the life of primitive man. And such a conviction can
only become confirmed by an examination of the influence which this
superstition has exercised on the formative arts.
The belief in picture magic is evinced by its negative as well as by
its positive results. All over the world we meet with the fear of
being depicted. In so far as this superstition has given rise to a
prohibition of painting and sculpture, it has thus seriously arrested
the development of art. But, on the other hand, the same notion has
commonly called forth pictorial representation, the aim of which is to
gain a power over the things and beings represented. Most frequent,
perhaps, of all these specimens of magical art are the volts, _i.e._
those dolls and drawings used for bewitching, which are spoken of as
early as in the ancient Chaldean incantations, which are used by the
majority of savage tribes, and which may incidentally be found even
now among the European nations.[485] But owing to their necessarily
clandestine character these charms have never exercised any important
influence on the pictorial art. More important, from the historical
point of view, than these black and cryptic arts is the white magic
by which social benefits are pursued. Just as the principal forms
of magical drama correspond to the chief requirements of mankind,
so the most important magical sculptures and paintings are found in
connection with agricultural rites,[486] the observances of hunting
and fishing,[487] medical practices,[488] and ceremonies for removing
sterility.[489] And in the same way as dramatic representation, but
with far greater efficacy, pictorial representation has been able
to satisfy the highest material as well as spiritual requirement
by bringing the deity in concrete relation with man through the
sympathetic force of the image. The art of conjuring a spirit to take
its abode in what is believed to be a counterfeit of its corresponding
body has thus given rise to the fashioning of idols and the subsequent
adoring of them. Although essentially the same as in the simple medical
cures and the practices of sorcery, pictorial magic has in these cases
of idol-making exercised a more far-reaching and thorough influence on
mankind than in any of its other manifestations.
We need not dwell at any length on the superstitions connected with
poetic or literary descriptions of things. The universal objection
to the mentioning of proper names is evidently based upon a belief
in the efficacy of words. And, on the other hand, this same belief
lies behind the equally universal use of incantations. Songs that are
sung in order to facilitate the labour of workers and to increase the
result of it, poems that aim at conjuring the favour of a hard-hearted
or indifferent woman, charms for invoking or expelling spirits, and
medical spells,—all these forms of poetic magic are too familiar to be
more than mentioned.
From the point of view of the civilised observer the above-quoted
examples of dramatic, pictorial, and poetic magic may seem to have
an obvious and ready explanation. A work of art always gives to the
spectator, and no doubt also to the creator, an illusion of reality.
As, moreover, primitive man is notoriously unable to distinguish
between subjective and objective reality, it seems natural to assume
that it is the mental illusion created by his work which makes
the magician believe that he has acquired a power over the things
represented by it. And this assumption is all the more tempting because
even to civilised, enlightened man there is something magical in
the momentary satisfaction which art affords to all our unfulfilled
longings by its semblance of reality. Strong desire always creates for
itself an imaginary gratification which easily leads the uncritical
mind to a belief in the power of will over the external world. The
whole of art-creation may thus be looked upon as an embodiment of the
greatest wishes of mankind, which have sought the most convincing
appearance of their fulfilment in the form and shape of objective
works. What is in us a conscious and intentional self-deception, may
be in the unsophisticated man a real illusion. The main psychological
aspects of the activity could not be changed by these different
subjective attitudes on the part of the producer. The essential point
is that in both cases the greatest possible resemblance to the original
would be sought for in order to increase in the one case the magical
efficacy of the work, in the other the pleasure to be derived from the
illusion. The belief in a magical connection between similar things
would thus exercise an incalculable influence on the growth of realism
in art. But, unfortunately, this easy explanation is not corroborated
by an impartial examination of the lower stages of art-development.
The statement of M. Guaita as to the volt, _Plus la ressemblance est
complète plus le maléfice a chance de réussir_,[490] does not appear
to be borne out by the evidence. The only instance we know of in which
greater or less resemblance to the model is thought of as bearing on
the magical efficacy of a painting is that of the East Indian artists.
We are told that it was in order to evade the Mohammedan prohibition of
painting that they resorted to that style of treating nature, bordering
on caricature, which is so characteristic of, say, Javanese art.[491]
Similarly it is by an appeal to their virtue of non-resemblance that
artists among the Laos defend their pictures as being harmless and
innocent.[492] But such references to barbaric or semi-barbaric art
do not tell us much about the conditions prevailing at the beginning
of art-development. The primitive man who avails himself of dolls and
drawings in order to bewitch is generally quite indifferent to the
life-like character of his magical instruments. The typical volt gives
only a crude outline of the human body, and, which is most remarkable,
it does not display any likeness to the man who is to be bewitched.
As a rule the same vagueness can also be noticed in the paintings and
sculptures which serve the aims of medical cure and religious cultus.
With due allowance for the deficient technical ability and the naïve
suggestibility of primitive man, it seems hard to believe that illusion
could have been either intended or effected by the rude works of
pictorial magic. Thus it becomes doubtful whether the belief in the
magical power of painting and sculpture can have been based upon a
confusion between subjective and objective reality.
This doubt can only be increased when we see how little confidence
primitive men themselves put in the mere likeness as such. When M.
Rochas produced his modern imitations of the volt, he was always
anxious to have his wax dolls sufficiently saturated by contact with
the person over whom they were intended to give him power.[493] And
in this he closely followed the methods of the native sorcerers, who
generally tried to increase the efficiency of their magical instruments
by attaching to them such objects as nail-cuttings, locks of hair,
or pieces of cloth belonging to the man to be bewitched.[494] In the
making of idols we can often observe the same principle. The statue
itself is not sacred by virtue of its form; it acquires divine power
only by being put in _material_ connection with the deity. The most
obvious example is that of the West African Negroes, who, when they
wish to transplant the wood deity from his original home to their towns
and villages, build up a wooden doll of branches taken from the tree in
which he lives.[495] The god is certainly supposed to feel a special
temptation to take up his abode in the idol made in his own likeness;
but it is evident that the material link established by the choice of
the wood is thought of as being of no less, perhaps even of greater,
importance than the resemblance. The same close and inseparable
combination of magic by connection and magic by similarity meets us
in the ancestor statues of New Guinea, which contain the skull of the
dead in hollows inside their head.[496] And although the procedure is
more indirect, the underlying thought is nevertheless the same in the
curious practices found, _e.g._, on the island of Nias. The spirit of
the deceased is here conducted to his statue by means of some small
animal which has been found in the neighbourhood of his grave.[497]
In none of these examples—which might be supplemented by analogous
instances from various tribes—do we see any hint of that manner of
regarding statues and paintings which prevails among civilised men.
While with us the mental impression on the spectator constitutes, so
to speak, the object and the essential purport of the work of art, the
magicians and the idolaters seem to look chiefly for material power and
influence in their simulacra.
The way in which pictorial art is used for curative purposes affords
us—if further proofs are wanted—a still more telling example of the
difference between the magical and the aesthetic points of view.
Nothing could be more crude and primitive than the notions held by
the Navajo with regard to the salutary influences of their famous
sand-paintings. The cure is effected, they believe, not by the
patient’s looking at the represented figures, but by his rolling
himself on them, or having the pigments of the mosaic applied to the
corresponding parts of his own body. The more of the sacred sand he
can thus attach to his body, the more complete is his recovery.[498]
Among other tribes at the same stage of development as the Navajos the
prevailing views are almost equally materialistic.[499] And even among
the barbaric and semi-civilised peoples, although we do not meet with
quite as gross superstitions, the fundamental idea of pictorial magic
appears often to be the same. The power of a painting or a sculpture
is thought of as something which is quite independent of its mental
effects upon the spectator. That interpretation of sympathetic magic,
therefore, which to us seemed most natural, cannot possibly be applied
to its lower forms.
As the concepts by which primitive man justifies to himself his beliefs
and practices are naturally vague and hazy, it may seem futile to
attempt to reconstruct his reasoning. Nothing final or definite can
be asserted on so obscure a topic. But we may legitimately discuss
the most consistent and most probable way in which to account for the
various forms of sympathetic magic. And with regard to this question
of probabilities we may rely to some extent upon the illustrative
and suggestive analogies to primitive thought which can be found
in scientific philosophies. For it is evident that a philosophical
doctrine, if it fits in with the facts of primitive superstition,
may be explanatory of those vague and latent notions which, without
logical justification or systematical arrangement, lie in the mind of
the magician and the idolater. Such a doctrine is presented to us in
the familiar emanation-theories, according to which every image of a
thing constitutes a concrete part of that thing itself. According to
the clear and systematic statement of this doctrine given by the old
Epicurean philosophers, shadows, reflections in a mirror, visions,
and even mental representations of distant objects, are all caused by
thin membranes, which continually detach themselves from the surface
of all bodies and move onward in all directions through space.[500] If
there are such things as necessary misconceptions, this is certainly
one. Such general facts of sensuous experience as reflection, shadow,
and mirage will naturally appear as the result of a purely material
decortication—as in a transfer picture.[501] How near at hand this
theory may lie even to the modern mind appears from the curious
fact that such a man as Balzac fell back upon it when attempting to
explain the newly-invented daguerreotype, that most marvellous of all
image-phenomena.[502]
To the primitive mind it is only natural to apply this reasoning even
to artificial images. Whether the likeness of a thing is fashioned
by nature in water or air, or whether it be made by man, it is in
both cases thought of as depriving the thing itself of some part of
its substance. Such a notion, which cannot surprise us when met with
among the lower savages, seems to have been at the bottom of even the
Mohammedan prohibition of the formative arts.[503] It is evident that,
wherever images are explained in this crude manner, magic by similarity
in reality becomes merely a case of magic by contiguity.
The materialistic thought which lies behind the belief in a solidarity
between similar things appears nowhere so clearly as within the
department of pictorial magic. But we believe that its influence can
also be traced in all the other superstitions regarding sympathetic
causation. In spite of that feeling of superiority so common in nations
which have no leaning towards formative arts, poetical and musical
magic in its lower forms is founded on quite as crude a conception as
any idolatry or pictorial sorcery. It would indeed be unnatural if
the theory of corporeal emanations had not been applied to acoustic
as well as to optical phenomena. To the unscientific mind sounds
and reverberations are something quite synonymous with sights and
reflections. The sounds connected with the impression of a being,
thing, or phenomenon will therefore be conceived as being a part of
the being, thing, or phenomenon itself. To these easily-explained
notions there are to be added the peculiar superstitions entertained
with regard to a class of sounds which are only associated with things,
viz. their names. To the primitive man a name literally constitutes
a part of the object it denotes. The magician may therefore get the
mastery over the spirits he invokes and the men he bewitches by merely
mentioning their names.[504] In many cases a most potent spell consists
of unintelligible words, which to the conjurer himself has no meaning
at all. In other cases, although the words really have a sense, we can
easily observe that they are not used for the purpose of creating an
illusion of reality. The typical incantation may indeed in a manner be
called descriptive. The singer is anxious not to pass by any detail,
the omitting of which may be injurious to the potency of his magic. But
the result is only a sort of inventory, which seldom suggests a full
and vivid mental picture. Many of the Shaman prayers and songs show us
by their whole character that in their case at least poetical illusion
has had nothing to do with the belief in the power of words over
things.[505]
Thus, according to the magical-world view, a system of material
connections links together in close solidarity things and their images,
sounds, or names. But this network of connections may even, we believe,
extend further, so as to bring into its chain of causation qualities
and actions, in short, abstract notions, which cannot be considered
as material objects possessing material parts. Just as an image which
presents the figure and shape of a given thing is conceived as a part
of that thing itself, so all things which have distinctive qualities
in common may be thought of as being parts of a common whole. As a
fantastic but still natural product of the primitive mind, there may
thus appear the idea of an invisible connection, which binds together
all things similar and draws them to each other. Vaguely and dimly even
savages may have been able to anticipate in some measure those imposing
thoughts which received an organised and consistent statement in the
doctrine of universal ideas. But to primitive man these “ideas” must
appear as concrete objects and beings, exercising their influence on
phenomena in a quite material manner.
To those who are familiar with that peculiar combination of spiritual
conceptions of the world and material conceptions of the spirit which
makes up the primitive cosmology, this explanation will not appear
far-fetched or strained. But it is to be admitted that in many cases
it may be difficult, or even impossible, to lay one’s finger on the
elements of magic by contiguity which lie at the root of a given
instance of imitative witchcraft. No doubt the mental effects produced
by the imitation on its creator and spectators will in many cases
contribute to the belief in its power. In the more artistic forms of
poetic magic the suggestive power of the words replaces the brute force
of their sound. And in dramatic magic an illusion, whether intended or
unintended, must necessarily affect the performers as well as their
audience. Therefore, however the psychological basis of magic may be
explained, it cannot be denied that in some of its developments magic
has become closely connected with art. The self-deceit by which we
enjoy in art the confusion between real and unreal is indeed, by its
intentional character, distinct from the illusion to which primitive
man is led, more perhaps by his deficient powers of observation than by
any strength of imaginative faculty. But still there exists a kinship,
and that belief in an overlapping of the tangible and intangible life
which is fostered by magic in the lower art affords, as it were, a
premonition of the effects produced by imagination in the higher.