THE AGE OF HEROES AND GODS
1. GENERAL CHARACTER OF THE HEROIC AGE
The expression 'the age of heroes and gods' may meet with objection
no less than may 'totemic age.' The latter has an air of strangeness,
because the conceptions of totem and totemism, borrowed from modern
ethnology, have as yet remained unfamiliar to historians, and
especially to the historians of civilization. The former expression
may be objected to on the ground that the conceptions 'heroes' and
'gods' are altogether too familiar to be extended beyond their specific
meaning and applied to an entire age. The word 'hero' suggests to
us perhaps the Homeric Achilles, or Siegfried of the Niebelungen
saga--those mighty, victorious warriors of epic song who, as we
have already seen, gradually evolved out of the heroes of primitive
märchen. It is self-evident, however, that, when applied to a great
and important period of culture, the expression 'hero' must not be
limited to the narrow meaning which it possesses in hero-lore. True,
we must not go so far as does Carlyle when, in his "Heroes and Hero
Worship," he begins the race of heroes with Odin of the Northmen and
ends it with Shakespeare and Goethe, thus extending the heroic age
from prehistoric times down to the present. Nevertheless, if we would
do justice to the significance of the conception 'heroic' as applied
to an important period of human development, we must be permitted to
include under the broader conception 'heroic age,' not merely the
heroic hero but also the hero who has factored in the spiritual realm,
as the founder of cities or states, or the creator of religions. These
latter heroes were gradually evolved, in the course of political and
religious development, out of the ancient epic heroes; in them, the
heroic age continues its existence after the heroes of the powerful
and crafty types have disappeared. In this broader significance of
the word, a hero is any powerful individuality whatsoever, and the
general characteristic of this new age, therefore, is the predominance
of the _individual personality_. Externally, this expresses itself
primarily in the fact that the age regards even all past events as
the deeds of individual persons. Bound up with this is a progressive
individualization of human personalities, and a constant refinement of
the crude distinctions that characterize the tale of adventure and the
older hero-lore.
The gods of this age are likewise patterned entirely after powerful
human personalities. They are anthropomorphic in every respect--human
beings of a higher order, whose qualities, though found only among
men, are magnified to infinitude. Just as the hero is a man endowed
with more than ordinary human capacities, so the god is a hero exalted
above the measure of earthly heroes. This itself implies that the
hero necessarily precedes the god, just as man antedates the hero.
Any fairly detailed account of this period, therefore, must deal with
the hero before considering the god. The god is created after the
image of the hero, and not, as traditional mythology still believes,
the hero after the image of the god. It would, indeed, be a strange
procedure for man first to create the ideal conception of his god and
only subsequently to transform this into human outlines, and thus
produce the hero. In the advance from man to the anthropomorphic
god, the hero would surely already have been encountered. This, of
course, does not imply that gods may not occasionally be transformed
into heroes; it simply means that in the development as a whole the
hero must have preceded the god. The relation here is precisely the
same as that found everywhere else in connection with the development
and degeneration of mythological conceptions. The fact of sequence,
however, must not be interpreted to mean that we can point to a time
in which there were heroes but no gods. Hero and god belong together.
Both reflect an effort to exalt human personality into the superhuman.
In this process, no fixed line may be drawn separating the hero, whose
activity still falls within the human sphere, from the god, who is
exalted above it. In fact, the differences between hero and god are
by no means merely quantitative, measurable in terms of the elevation
above the plane of human characteristics; the differentiating marks are
essentially _qualitative_. The hero remains human in all his thought
and action. The god, on the other hand, possesses not merely human
capacities raised to their highest power, but also characteristics
which are lacking in man and therefore also in the hero. Especially
noteworthy among the latter is the ability through his own power to
perform magical acts, and thus to interfere at will in the course of
nature as well as in human life. True, the hero of saga and poetry
also employs magical agencies. The means of magic which he controls,
however, have been bestowed upon him by some strange demoniacal being,
either by one of those demons which, in the form of a man, an animal,
or a fantastic monster, are recognized even by the early mythical
tales as magical beings, or by a god, who, as such, combines the
highest qualities of the hero with those of the demon. The conception
of an anthropomorphic god, therefore, results from a fusion of hero
with demon. Of these, the hero is a new creation, originating in the
mental life of this later age. He was long foreshadowed, however, first
by the animal ancestor (especially in so far as the latter brought
blessings and good fortune), and then by the subsequent cult of human
ancestors. But the figure of the hero is not completely developed until
the human personality enters into the very forefront of mythological
thought; then, through regular transitions, the value placed on
personal characteristics is enhanced until the ideal of the hero is
reached. Doubtless the hero may still incidentally be associated with
the ancestor, yet personality as such has now come so to dominate the
interest of the age that in comparison with it the genealogical feature
is but secondary.
Not so with the demon-idea. Though it has come down from very remote
times and has assumed many forms as a result of varying cultural
conditions, the demon has always remained a magic being, arousing now
hope, now fear and terror. This was its nature up to the very time
when the ideal of the hero arose. This new idea it then appropriated,
just as it did, in earlier times, the ideas of a soul that survives
the deceased, of the totem animal, of the ancestor, and of other
mythological figures. The very nature of the demon has always been
constituted by such incorporated elements. From this point of view, the
god also is only a new form of demon. In its earlier forms, however,
as spirit-demon, animal-demon, and, finally, even as ancestor-demon,
the demon was an impersonal product of the emotions, and possessed
characteristics which underwent constant transformations. When it
became a hero, it for the first time rose to the level of a personal
being. Through the enhancement of the qualities of the hero it was
then elevated into the sphere of the superhuman. Thus it came to
constitute a human ideal far transcending the hero. This accounts
for the uniqueness of the god-conception, and for the fact that,
though the god assumes the essential characteristics of the demon,
the two are nevertheless more widely distinct than were any of the
earlier forms of demon conceptions from those that anteceded them. The
rise of the god-idea, therefore, ushers in a new epoch of religious
development. Just because of the contrast between personal god and
impersonal demon, this epoch may be designated as that of the _origin
of religion_, in the narrower and proper sense of the word. The various
forms of pure demon-belief are preparatory to religion; religion
itself begins with the belief in gods. The relation which the belief
in demons sustains to the belief in gods is another evidence that hero
and god must be grouped together, for there can be no clearly marked
temporal difference in the origin of these two ideals of personality.
Just as soon as the figure of the human hero arises, it assimilates
the demon-conception, which was already long in existence and which
continually underwent changes as a result of the various ideas with
which it came into contact. Alongside of the being that arose from
this fusion, however, there continued also the hero in his purity, as
well as the demon, whose various forms were at most crowded into the
background by the appearance of the gods. To however great an extent,
therefore, the age of heroes and gods may introduce a completely new
spiritual movement that proves fundamental to all future culture and
religion, it nevertheless also includes all the elements of previous
development. These elements, moreover, are not merely present in forms
that have been altered and in part completely changed by the processes
of assimilation; side by side with such forms, there are always also
the original elements, which may be traced back to the earliest
beginnings of mythological thought. The dominant factor determining
the character of this new age, however, is the _hero_. The ideal of
human personality which the hero engenders in the folk consciousness
conditions all further development, and especially the origin of the
god. For this reason the 'age of heroes and gods' might also, and more
briefly, be called the _heroic age_.
As the direct incarnation of the idea of personality, it is the hero
about whom the new development of myth and religion centres. Similarly,
the hero also stands in closest relation to the transformations that
occur in all other departments of human life. Enormous changes in
economic conditions and in the forms of life dependent upon them,
new social institutions, with their reactions upon custom and law,
transformations and creations in all branches of art--all give
expression to the new development upon which this age has entered.
Here also, just as at the beginning of the anteceding age, there are
numerous reciprocal relations between these various factors. The hero
and the god cannot be conceived apart from the _State_, whose founding
marks the beginning of this period. Custom and law are just as much
results of the new political society as they are themselves essential
factors in its creation. Neither the State nor the worship of gods
protected by it could survive apart from the great changes in economic
life that took place at the beginning of this period, and that were
further established and perfected in the course of time. Thus, here
also each element reinforces every other; all the factors of life are
in constant interaction. At the beginning of the totemic period, as
we have seen, it was the new creations of mythological thought that
constituted the centre from which radiated all the other elements of
culture. At the beginning of the age of heroes and gods it is the
creative power of the _religious_ consciousness whose activities most
accurately mirror the various spiritual achievements of the period.
2. THE EXTERNAL CULTURE OF THE HEROIC AGE.
The heroic era is so comprehensive and comprises so large a part of
human history that any attempt to arrive at even the barest outlines
of its external culture makes it clear that this culture is even less
unitary than is that of the preceding period. The differentiation of
phenomena naturally increases with advancing development. Even the
various forms of totemic culture manifest wide differences in detail;
indeed, when taken as a whole, they represent distinct stages. When
we come to the heroic age, however, whose beginning is practically
coincident with the beginnings of history in the usual sense of the
term, and which includes within itself a large part of the succeeding
course of events, the multiplicity and diversity of the forms of
culture are incomparably greater. Every nation has its particular
heroes, even though there are also certain general hero-types which
everywhere recur. Even more does each nation have its gods. Heroes
and gods are ideals created in the image of men, and therefore they
always reflect--if possible, in a heightened degree--the characteristic
differences of peoples. Nevertheless, amid all these differences of
times and peoples, there are certain constant features that distinguish
the heroic period both from the preceding age and from the era that
follows. Most important of all these features is the establishment of
the _State_. It was a long step from totemic tribal organization to
political institutions. In the surge and press of the folk migrations
which occurred at the beginning of the heroic period, traces of the
preceding tribal organization were still everywhere present. Tribes did
not change suddenly into States. Nevertheless, along with the emergence
of the heroic age and its concomitant phenomena, there was a noticeable
tendency towards the formation of a political order. This development
pursued different courses, depending on the character of the nations or
of their heroes and gods. It is primarily the resultant differences in
political organization which, when considered in connection with the
parallel changes in mythological and religious development, clearly
show that in this period, just as in the totemic age, all other aspects
of culture were closely dependent upon mythological and religious
ideas. 'Totemism' connotes not merely a complex of mythological beliefs
in which a certain stage of culture had its setting, but also a unique
form of tribal organization, which, in spite of many differences of
detail, remained constant in its general features. Similarly, political
society, in the original form in which it long survived, was closely
bound up with the heroic age, even though the increasing differences
between national cultures led, from the very outset, to a greater
diversity of forms than were to be found in the case of totemism.
In spite of these differences, however, the factor fundamental to
political society remained the same. The formation of States was always
conditioned by individual _rulership_. This itself is indicative of
the character of the age as a whole: its typical expression is to be
found in the personalities of heroes and of gods. Again it was the
migrations and wars of peoples that brought about the dissolution of
the old tribal organization and the creation of political society.
But these migrations and wars were on an incomparably broader scale
and had more intimate interconnections than had previously been the
case. This gave them a correspondingly greater significance, both
intensively and extensively. As a matter of comparison, we may refer
to the migrations of the Malayan race during the totemic age. It would
be difficult to conceive of more extensive migrations. But they
took place gradually, in separate waves, and left no traces, for the
most part, beyond changes in the physical characteristics and in the
languages of peoples. These migrations, which frequently involved long
voyages across the sea, were carried on by but small numbers of people,
who set out from restricted groups. It cannot be doubted that these
migrations exercised an influence on the character and the culture of
the resulting mixed races. They were never able, however, completely
to transform the culture as a whole. Even when these tribal migrations
occurred in oft-repeated waves, they never resulted in more than such
imperfect beginnings of a political organization as we find among
the Polynesians or, in other parts of the earth, among many of the
semi-cultural peoples of America and Africa.
Quite different are the _folk migrations_ that occur at the very
dawn of the history of the great cultural peoples. The difference
between tribal and racial migrations is an important one. When a race
migrates, it retains its peculiar characteristics, its traditions, its
heroes, and its gods, and transplants these into the new territory.
True, these various elements do not remain unchanged. They inevitably
become fused with the culture of the original inhabitants, and it is
from these fusions, when they are at all deep-going, that new peoples
arise. None of the great cultural nations that mark the beginning of
this age of heroes and gods, from the Babylonians down to the Greeks,
the Romans, and the Germans, is homogeneous. Indeed, recent Babylonian
investigations have shown that the Semitic immigration into Babylon
was preceded by that of other peoples who were probably of different
origin--namely, the Sumerians. We know of the latter only through
linguistic traces in Babylonian inscriptions, of which, however, the
religious parts, especially, show that the Sumerians exercised a great
influence upon later civilization. Similarly, the settlement of the
Greeks, Romans, and Germans in the territory which they eventually
occupied, followed upon great earlier migrations to these regions. The
people that finally formed the Greek race left the mountain country
of Thrace and Thessaly in prehistoric times; wandering towards the
sea, they fused with the original inhabitants of the regions into
which they entered. In view of these migrations of early history, the
theory of the desirability of racial purity, which has recently been so
ardently championed in many quarters, is scarcely tenable. Political
organization, on the one hand, and mythology and religion, on the
other, represent important creations which for the most part sprang
into existence only in the wake of migration and of the resultant
fusion of peoples of different races.
Though political organization has been mentioned as the first important
feature distinguishing the heroic age from the preceding era, there
is a second and not less significant differentia. This relates to the
material conditions of life. Two things are of outstanding importance
for the new culture. The first of these consists in what we ordinarily
call agriculture--that is, the tilling of the soil by the aid of the
_plough_, or, as it is therefore more properly called in contrast to
the earlier hoe-culture, plough-culture. In addition, there is the
_breeding of domestic animals_, particularly of food-supplying cattle,
and, later, of sheep and goats.
It is even to-day widely believed that, of the various modes of
procuring food, hunting came first. The hunter is thought to have
been seized, one fine day, with an impulse to domesticate animals
instead of hunting them. He tamed the wild creatures, and thus turned
from a hunter into a nomad. In the course of time, the nomad is then
supposed to have tired of his wandering life and to have settled
down in permanent habitations. Instead of obtaining milk by herding
his cattle, he hitched the ox to the plough, after having (with that
wisdom and foresight which such theories always attribute to primitive
man) invented the plough. This theory is an impossible fiction from
beginning to end. It is just as intrinsically improbable as is the
above-mentioned hypothesis that in prehistoric times the Australians
invented totemic tribal organization and exogamy for the purpose of
preventing the marriage of relatives. We have seen, on the contrary,
that the prohibition of such marriages was a consequence of exogamy,
and that the latter, in turn, was not a deliberate invention but the
natural result of certain conditions inherent in the culture of the
age. All these institutions were originally due to influences whose
outcome could not possibly have been foreseen. The same is true of the
subject under discussion. In the first place, the assumed order of
succession of the three stages of life is contradicted by facts. It is
hardly correct to speak of a hunting life which is not supplemented
by a certain amount of agriculture in the form of hoe-culture--an
industry which, as a rule, is carried on by the woman in the immediate
vicinity of the hut. This primitive agriculture existed even at a very
early age. We find it widely prevalent among the American aborigines,
who possessed no domesticated animal whatever except the dog, and the
dog, as was above observed, was never tamed at all, but domesticated
itself at the very dawn of prehistoric times. The supposition that the
nomadic life followed upon that of the hunter is impossible, in the
second place, because the animals that are hunted are not identical
with those that form the care of the nomad. Cattle were never objects
of the chase; the closely related buffalo, on the other hand, was never
domesticated, but has remained exclusively a game animal down to the
present day. Game animals have never been domesticated and utilized
for the purpose of supplying milk and drawing the plough. No doubt the
domestic animals of the nomad at one time existed in a wild state. Wild
cattle, of course, preceded tame cattle. But the latter did not develop
from the former by the indirect way of the hunted animal. Nor does
agriculture at all presuppose a nomadic life. There are vast stretches
of the Old World, as, for instance, all of China, Indo-China, and
Indonesia, where the production of milk was never engaged in but where
agriculture in the form of plough-culture has existed, in part, since
early times. Agriculture, however, involves the raising of cattle,
particularly of oxen. These male cattle are castrated, usually when
very young. They are thus made tractable, so that they may be hitched
to the plough and used for agricultural purposes more easily than is
possible in the case of bulls, which are never completely manageable.
What, then, were the motives which led to the raising of cattle, an
occupation which, in many places at least, is carried on solely in
the interests of agriculture? What motives led to the castration of
male cattle, a practice which everywhere obviously serves agricultural
purposes?
The traditional mode of explanation would lead us to suppose that man
foresaw the effects of castration, that he knew beforehand that if the
bull were subjected to this operation he would become an animal fitted
to draw the plough. The impossibility of this supposition is evident.
Such an effect could be learned only from experience, prior to which,
therefore, it could not have been known. The problem relating to the
cultivation of the soil by means of the plough, therefore, divides into
two questions: How may we account for the ox? How for the plough? These
questions are closely related, and yet they lead us back to divergent
explanations. For in all probability the plough was originally drawn
by man. Moreover, the plough was not the first implement to be thus
drawn; it was anteceded by the _wagon_. Even on the early Babylonian
and Assyrian monuments there were figures of a wagon bearing either
an image of a god or else the king or chief priest, both of whom were
probably regarded as uniting in _one person_ the function of their
offices with that of representative of the deity. Thus, the question
as to the origin of the plough carries us back directly to that of the
origin of the wagon. Now, the earliest wagon had but two wheels; the
four-wheeled wagon came as a later discovery or as an improvement.
The two-wheeled wagon, however, presupposes the wheel. But how did
the wheel come to be recognized as a useful object of locomotion? The
first traces of a wheel or of wheel-like objects are to be found in
the latter part of the stone age. A number of such objects have been
discovered in Europe; in their centre is a hole, and there are spokes
that radiate to the circumference. The fact that these wheels are
of small size indicates that they may have been worn about the neck
as amulets. But even in early culture the wheel was also put to an
entirely different use. Widely prevalent over the earth and probably
connected with ancient sun worship, is the custom of kindling a fire
to celebrate the festival of the summer solstice. In ancient Mexico,
tradition tells us, this fire was started by turning a notched disk
of wood about a stake until the heat thus generated gave rise to
fire--the same method of producing fire by friction that is still in
use among primitive peoples. This fiery wheel was then rolled down
a hill as an image of the sun, and later, when the custom had lost
its original magical significance, as a symbol of the sun moving in
the heavens. According to the report of W. Mannhardt, a remarkably
similar custom existed in East Prussia not so very long ago. Perhaps
the wheel that was worn about the neck as an amulet or article of
adornment likewise had some connection with the idea that the sun
was a celestial wheel rolling across the heavens. After the early
sun cults had once created the rolling wheel in imitation of the sun
and its movements, it was but a short step to the idea of securing
regular, continuous movements by means of which some sort of work
might be performed. An early application of this idea is to be found
in the practice of spinning with distaff and whorl. This invention
was credited even by the ancients to prehistoric times. Doubtless its
origin belongs to the beginnings of the heroic age. This same early
period, however, probably also used the wheel for transporting heavy
articles. This was the original purpose of the one-wheeled barrow. It
alone enabled the ancient Babylonians and Egyptians to overcome the
difficulties of transporting by human agencies the mighty blocks of
stone required for their temples and pyramids. From this it was not a
far advance to the two-wheeled wagon. The barrow was pulled or pushed
by men. The wagon, in contrast to the barrow, was apparently from the
beginning an aristocratic mode of transit, never used by the common
people. The two-wheeled wagon was in the first instance a vehicle of
the gods. Later it served as the vehicle of the ruler, the terrestrial
counterpart of the deity. Finally, the nobleman employed it in war,
in going forth to battle. A vivid portrayal of battles in which such
two-wheeled wagons played a part is presented in the Iliad. True, the
wagon is here also, as a rule, only a means for carrying the hero to
the scene of combat. The fighting itself is seldom done from it. Upon
its arrival at the appointed place, the warrior dismounts, to try
his strength, shield against shield, with his opponent. The general
populace, however, always goes on foot.
This sketch gives us the main outlines of the history of the wagon.
But how did the animal, first the ox and later the horse, come to be
hitched to the wagon? Originally, the wagon bearing the image of the
god was very probably drawn by men, as was likewise, in imitation of
this, the chariot of the king. But the breeding of animals soon changed
matters. Oxen were used for the purpose of drawing wagons much earlier
than were horses. The horse did not appear until late in the history
of civilization. There are no Egyptian pictures of horses that date
back farther than the fifteenth dynasty, whereas those of cattle occur
considerably earlier. In Oriental civilization, furthermore, the ass
antedates the horse. In harmony with ancient custom, the ass even
to-day continues, in the Orient, to be a favourite beast of burden as
well as a riding animal. The horse seems to make its first appearance
in history along with the Indo-Germanic tribes, who were probably
indebted for it to the Turanian peoples of the Asiatic steppes. As a
result of its superior speed, it then superseded its rivals in all the
civilized countries of the ancient world. The Assyrian king went forth
to the chase and the Homeric hero proceeded to battle in a chariot
drawn by steeds. It was only later that the Greeks used the horse for
saddle purposes, and not merely to draw the chariot. When this took
place, equestrian combat came into favour among the aristocracy.
This development, however, was preceded not only by the taming of
cattle but probably also by the use of the ox for drawing the wagon.
How the latter came about may, of course, only be conjectured. The
bull has remained unmanageable even to the present day; the attempt to
hitch him to a wagon, therefore, must always have failed. The cow was
not forced into this service--at least, not in those places where milk
was valued. On the other hand, the castrated male animal is thoroughly
suited to the task of drawing the wagon. It is stronger than the cow,
and also more tractable. It is inconceivable, however, that castration
was originally performed with the purpose of engendering these
characteristics. Before there could be such a purpose, the results must
already have been known--that is, the operation must already have been
performed for other purposes. Eduard Hahn has offered a suggestion
with reference to our problem. He has called attention to the ancient
Asiatic cults of the Phrygian Cybele and the Syrio-Phœnician Astarte.
These cults are similar to the vegetation festivals which, as was
mentioned in the preceding chapter, may be found among the Pueblo
peoples of America. Similar orgiastic phenomena recur wherever peoples
are primarily concerned with agriculture and are anxious for the
welfare of the grain. The beginnings of vegetation cults, found in the
earlier period of hoe-culture, were succeeded by more developed deity
cults, connected with plough-culture. The ecstatic motives associated
with the tilling of the soil then extended their influence beyond the
limits of vegetation cults proper and became universal elements of the
deity cults. The powers shared by the numerous demoniacal beings of
the more primitive cults were now centralized in a _single_ goddess
mother. The life-giving activity of the deity in connection with human
procreation came to be of focal interest. The exaggerated development
of cult ecstasy caused the orgy to become a form of self-mortification.
The cult associates, especially the priests, lacerated and emasculated
themselves in the fury of religious excitement. By becoming a permanent
custom, this gave rise to a group of eunuchs consecrated to the
service of the deity. These were doubtless the earliest eunuchs of
history. In the guardians of Turkish harems and in the singers of
the Sistine Chapel, survivals of these unrestrained cults of the past
still exist. Now, when the group of emasculated priests paced beside
the chariot of the goddess, they might easily have hit upon the idea
of hitching a castrated animal to the wagon. But, however plausible
this hypothesis may appear, in that it avoids the impossible assumption
of an invention, it nevertheless leaves one question unanswered. Even
though the castration of the priest may be understood as the result of
the well-known effects of extreme religious excitement, the castration
of the bull is not yet accounted for. Are we to suppose that the priest
merely aimed to render the animal similar to himself? Neither ecstasy
nor reflection could account for such a purpose. But there is another
factor which has always been significant for cult, and which attained
to increased importance precisely in the worship of the deity. I refer
to _sacrifice_. In its highest stages, sacrifice assumes new forms, in
that man offers either himself or parts of his own body, his blood, his
hair, or a finger. A late survival of such sacrifices is to be found
in a custom that is still prevalent in Catholic countries. Here it
frequently occurs that a sick man lays a wax replica of the diseased
part of his body upon the altar of the saint. This idea of sacrificing
parts of one's own body is also exemplified in the self-emasculation
practised by the Russian sect of Skopzi even in our own Christian age.
Such sacrifice, moreover, may receive a wider application, so as to
include, among the sacrificial objects, parts of the animal. Now at one
time the kidneys with their connected organs were regarded as vehicles
of the soul, and, as such, were sacrificed to the gods. The castration
of the bull, therefore, may originally well have been regarded as the
sacrifice of the most readily accessible of the favourite vehicles
of the soul. Thus, it may have been in the case of the animal whose
generative organs had been sacrificed to the deity that man first
observed the change of characteristics which fitted the animal to be
hitched to the chariot of the deity, and finally, through an extension
of its sphere of usefulness, to draw the plough across the fields.
This hypothesis, which presupposes the joint influence of orgiastic
vegetation cults and ancient sacrificial usages, is, of course, not
susceptible of positive demonstration. Nevertheless, to one concerned
with the transition from ancient field cults to the agriculture
of later times, the combination of conditions just indicated may
reasonably be regarded as affording the basis of an hypothesis that is
psychologically not improbable.
Whether the raising of the milch cow was coincident with the taming
of the ox for the purposes of agriculture, and whether it came about
as the result of a similar transformation of motives, it is hardly
possible to determine. Though such changes are of more importance
for the development of culture than are many of the campaigns and
ancient folk wars of which history has preserved a record, no positive
clue as to their origin has anywhere survived. All that we know with
certainty is that the taming of the ox to draw the plough and the
raising of the milch cow are not necessarily bound up with one another.
For plough-culture and the milk industry are by no means always to
be found together. In spite of his highly developed agriculture, the
Chinaman loathes milk, whereas the Hindoo regards it as a valuable
gift of civilization, prizing it not only because of the butter which
he secures from it but especially as a food and as a sacrifice to the
gods. The Israelites received the promise that Canaan was to be a land
"that floweth with milk and honey." The latter expression suggests the
cultural conditions of two widely different periods. Milk represents
the most valuable product of later culture, while even primitive man
regarded the honey which he gathered from the hives of wild bees as his
most precious article of food.
Whatever may be the relation of the two factors in the domestication
of cattle, whether the taming of the ox preceded the raising of cows
or vice versa, the production of milk, at any rate, represents the
more difficult and slower task. The taming of the ox is essentially an
act that affects only the particular animal in question; even to-day
it must be repeated in the case of every male calf; the inheritance
of acquired characteristics is here not operative. The cow, just as
all female mammals in their natural condition, produces very little
milk except during the period of suckling, and then only so much as is
necessary for the support of her young. Only through efforts continued
throughout generations and as a result of the inheritance of acquired
characteristics could she be brought to that tremendous over-production
of her secretion of which she has become capable. In this case,
therefore, there must from the very outset have been a systematic
striving toward the desired goal. It is not absolutely essential to
assume a change of motives such as occurred in the taming of the ox;
from the very beginning there may have been an attempt to make personal
use of the milk which Nature intended for the calf. Nevertheless, it is
not impossible that religious motives here also played a part. This is
made all the more probable by the fact that the cow, no less than the
bull and the ox, was worshipped by many peoples even in the earliest
period of deity cults. Such worship is particularly noteworthy,
inasmuch as cattle were never favourite totem animals as was, for
instance, the buffalo among the hunting peoples of the American
prairies. Even though the general idea of animal cult was carried over
from the totemic period to the beginnings of the agrarian deity cults,
this animal cult was essentially changed, and it became associated with
different objects. The latter are now no longer connected with the old
totem beliefs that sprang, in part, from primitive animism; they are
determined entirely by the conditions of a later culture, one of whose
essential elements is the domestication of cattle. The two fundamental
constituents of this later culture, agriculture and the milk industry,
are not everywhere equally prized. Hence there is a difference as
regards the relative importance of the male and the female member of
the species in the cult worship that is accorded to the most valued
domestic animal of the new economic era. In the Opis-worship of the
Egyptians, as well as in the Persian cult of Mithra, the bull was
regarded as an incarnation of the supreme deity. In many sections of
Northern Europe it is even to-day customary, at harvest-time, to bedeck
an ox with ribbons and wreaths of flowers and to lead him in a festal
procession. On the other hand, we find that the Vedas and the Avesta,
in harmony with the high value which the ancient Indian and Iranian
peoples place on milk, extol the cow as the most sacred of animals. In
the first stages of the domestication of cattle, it was possible to
gain only a small supply of milk, since its over-production could be
developed but slowly; just for this reason, however, milk was all the
more valuable. This may probably also throw light on the high value
which was long placed on butter as a sacrificial gift. The attempt to
secure this valuable product for sacrificial purposes may then itself
in turn have reacted upon the milk industry. Thus, the two great
advances in material culture that attend the heroic age--the tilling of
the soil with the plough and the systematic endeavour to secure milk
and its products--seem to be, in part, directly due to, and, in part,
closely bound up with, motives of cult. External culture and inner
religious impulses have always attested themselves to be elements of a
totality all of whose parts are interrelated.
Of the new forms of industry which thus arose, the cultivation of the
soil by means of the plough led to a further important change. This
change was just as much an effect of the new conditions of life as it
was an expression of the altered spirit of the times. The guidance
of the plough is a task which prevents the field work from being any
longer done in common, as it was at the height of hoe-culture and
during the time of the origin of the great vegetation festivals of
totemism. The individual must guide his own plough. The appearance of
plough-culture _individualizes labour_. Just as the individual comes
to the fore in political development and is extolled in legend as
the founder of cities and States, so also is it the individual who
cultivates the land. This individualistic tendency also gradually makes
itself felt in the raising of domestic animals. Plough-culture gives
rise to _private property_ as regards both the soil and its products.
Here again, however, the new social order influences economic life, and
both together produce further changes in external culture. Individual
activity receives emphasis not alone in the cultivation of the soil
but also in _warfare_. Primitive man was not at all familiar with
war. He slew his enemy from an ambush, attacking him but seldom in
open combat. In the totemic age, when actual weapons of war first
made their appearance, tribal war was a strife of many against many.
As yet the individual combatants were not sharply differentiated from
one another. The masses clashed with each other in unregulated strife,
without definite leadership or fixed system. Only with the dawn of
the political era do we find regulated single combat. Such combat
then becomes the decisive factor in warfare. Consider the Homeric
description of the battles before the walls of Troy. The battle is
decided by champions (_promachoi_). These alight from their chariots
of war and fight, man against man. The masses stand in the background,
hurling lances or stones. Their actions, however, have little
importance. They flee as soon as their champion falls. The result of
the battle thus depends upon individuals and not upon the masses. The
weapons also conform to these altered conditions. In earlier times,
practically none but long-distance weapons were used--the sling, the
hurled spear, or the bow and arrow, weapons similar to those employed
in the chase. Single combat necessitated weapons of close range--the
axe, held fast in the hand, the lance, used as a thrusting weapon,
and the sword. Instead of the long shield, covering almost the entire
body--shields such as even the Australians and also the earliest
Greeks carried--a small round shield was demanded by reason of the
use of swords in fighting. Of the various weapons found at the zenith
of the heroic age, therefore, the sword is the most characteristic.
It is also the most typical creation of this period. It obviously
originated through a gradual shortening of the lance, thus becoming
a weapon specifically adapted for individual combat at close range.
Thus, the tendency toward the assertion of individual personality made
itself felt in warfare and in weapons, just as it did in the State, in
agriculture, and in the cult of personal gods.
Similar fundamental factors underlie the last great cultural change.
This we have already touched upon in our discussion of agriculture,
namely, the _rise of private property_. Following inevitably upon the
appearance of private property are distinctions in wealth; these lead
to differences in social position. In the totemic age, the contrasting
conditions of rich and poor are, on the whole, not in particular
evidence; even towards the decline of the period, indeed, they are
only beginning to arise. Every man is the equal of the other. Only
the chiefs and a small number of the older men have a superior rank.
This rank, moreover, is not due to property but to the services which
ability and experience enable them to render, or to the reverence
which custom metes out to them. It is not until the heroic age that
a propertied class becomes differentiated from a class owning little
or nothing. This change is due in an important measure to the folk
migrations that inaugurate the beginning of the new age. The propertied
class derives from the victorious conquerors; the original inhabitants
are without property. In the warfare connected with these migrations,
slaves are captured; these are employed particularly in the cultivation
of the soil. Thus, the more aristocratic are exalted by their greater
possessions above those who have less property. As free individuals,
however, both of these classes are superior to the slaves, who,
similarly to the animals used in agriculture, are themselves regarded
as the possession of the free and the rich.
Bound up with these social distinctions is the _division of labour_
which now arises. The landowner no longer himself manufactures the
tools which he needs or the weapons with which he goes to war. A class
of artisans is formed, consisting partly of those who have little
property, and partly of slaves. This differentiation of labour leads
to _two_ phenomena which long continue to influence the development of
culture. I refer to _trade_ and _colonization_. The former consists
in the transmission of the products of labour; the latter, in the
migration of a part of the people itself into distant places, where the
same conditions that led to the founding of the mother State result in
daughter States. In the totemic age, there were no colonies. Extensive
as were the wanderings of the Papuans, the Malays, the Polynesians,
and of some of the American and African tribes, these peoples never
established colonies; moreover, the group which settled in distant
places always lost its connection with the mother group. True, new
living conditions were sought and found, and, through mixture with the
native populations, new races were produced. Nevertheless, it was not
until the political age that those parts of a particular people which
settled down in foreign lands continued to retain a consciousness of
connection with the mother race.
Of the two above-mentioned elements of the newer culture, commerce
naturally preceded colonization. Of all civilized peoples, the
Semitic race was the first to open up great channels of trade.
Phœnician commerce dates back to the earliest records of history.
Even the Mycenian graves of Greece contain gold jewelry of Phœnician
workmanship. Spacially, the trade relations of the ancient Phœnicians
extended over the whole of the known Occident. It is characteristic
of the Semitic race, however, that they rarely undertook actual
colonization. Trade and all that is connected with it, the industrial
ardour necessary to supply the objects of trade and to exchange them
for grain and other natural products, has always been their chosen
sphere. The Indo-Germanic races, on the other hand, have naturally
inclined to colonization from early times on. In the foremost rank
were the Greeks, with their colonies in Thrace, Asia Minor, Southern
Italy, and Sicily. These colonial groups, moreover, always retained
their connection with the mother people. Thus, the earliest culture of
the Greeks was that of the colonies in Asia Minor. Later, the colonies
of southern Italy exercised a strong reaction on the mother country
in science and art. It was not until relatively late that the highest
cultural development of the mother country followed upon that of these
outposts of Greek culture.
3. THE DEVELOPMENT OF POLITICAL SOCIETY.
The fundamental characteristics of totemic society appear to be
purely a product of nature. This is especially true of totemic tribal
organization. Its simple regularity and the constant recurrence
of essentially the same characteristics are the natural result of
original conditions of life that were universally prevalent. A
horde split up into two halves. In the simplest cases, such as we
have noticed in our account of the Australians, tribal organization
remained limited to this dual division. The condition that brought
about this organization arose as soon as a horde that spoke the same
language spread out over a fairly broad territory. The same process
of division might then repeat itself in the case of each of the
two halves. This gave rise to a clan organization of four or eight
divisions, as found among most of the Australian tribes, and frequently
also in Melanesia. Such an organization was developed also by the
original inhabitants of North America, although the totemic basis here
degenerated and became essentially an external form. Totemic tribal
organization is unquestionably a phenomenon that arises with immanent
necessity; indeed, one might almost say that its appearance involves
no co-operation on the part of man himself. The division takes place
of itself; it is a result of the natural conditions underlying the
propagation and growth of society.
From the very beginning of the heroic age on, the development of
political society gave rise to phenomena that were fundamentally
different from those of earlier times. The irreconcilability of this
fact with the view, still held by historians and philosophers, that
the State represents the earliest form of an ordered community life,
is evident. Such theories were possible only when the whole of totemic
culture was as yet a _terra incognita_. Totemic tribal organization
cannot possibly be interpreted as an incomplete and undeveloped form
of the State. Rather is it true that totemic and political societies
are completely different in kind. Essentially different characteristics
and conditions of origin demarcate them from one another, even
though there are certain hybrid forms, representing primarily a
partial survival of older tribal customs within the newly established
political society. Now, in so far as mental history always involves
a regular order of development, one would, of course, be justified
in maintaining that human society also necessarily eventuates in the
State--that is, in a political society. Indeed, this may perhaps be
the meaning of Aristotle's statement that man is a "political animal."
This statement may be interpreted to refer to a _predisposition_ rather
than to an inherited characteristic. Nevertheless, Aristotle's view
that the State gradually developed out of the family and the village
community is in contradiction with the actual facts. To read back a
tendency toward political development into the very beginnings of
human society, moreover, results in a failure to give proper emphasis
to those essential differences which distinguish the great periods of
this development--differences which at the crucial points assume the
form of antitheses. Furthermore, we must not overlook the fact that
there are peoples who have even as yet not progressed beyond totemic
tribal organization and who will very possibly never advance to the
formation of a State, particularly in case this depends upon their
own initiative. On the other hand, it is doubtless to be assumed that
those peoples who later acquired a political organization at one time
possessed a totemic tribal structure. The higher stage of political
organization, however, obviously differs fundamentally from that
which preceded it. The older motives have been superseded by such as
are connected with the great folk migrations and tribal fusions, and
with the changes consequent upon them. True, when the time was ripe,
these migrations and fusions of peoples came to pass with the same
necessity as did the original division of the primitive horde into
two halves. Nevertheless, a new set of conditions became operative.
These, of course, arose in a regular course of development out of the
most primitive modes of life, and yet they were not directly derived
from them. The creative power characteristic of all mental activity
here manifested itself, not in the performance of miracles, but in a
constant engenderment of new motives out of the interaction of existing
motives with changing external conditions of life. In consequence
of this constant change of motives and of existing conditions, even
totemic culture made numerous attempts in the direction of political
organization. Such steps were taken particularly by the semi-cultural
peoples of America, who possess a relatively high civilization. It is
precisely in the case of these peoples that it is instructive to notice
the contrast between this political tendency and the original tribal
organization.
The difference between the two fundamental forms of society, the
totemic and the political, is most strikingly evident in the case of
their most external characteristic--namely, in the _numbers_ according
to which society as a whole, as well as in its parts, is organized
and divided. These numbers are the expression of inner motives; hence
they form a basis from which we may draw conclusions concerning the
latter. In the case of totemic tribal organization, these motives are
apparently very simple; natural expansion over a broader territory
leads to separation into groups, and this of itself gives rise to the
customary division into two, four, and eight parts. How different
and more complicated from its very beginnings is the organization of
political society! Here also the development proceeds according to
law, and yet there is not a constant recurrence of the same motive as
is in the case of totemic tribal organization. On the contrary, we
find a continuous fluctation between contradictory phenomena, and the
frequent appearance of new motives. Early, and still partly legendary,
tradition tells us of an organization of society on the basis of the
number _twelve_. This mode of organization seems to have emanated
from the Babylonians. They were the people who first attempted to
govern human affairs in accordance with celestial phenomena. These
they observed, not in the unsystematic, imaginative, mythological
manner of the natural peoples of Polynesia and America, but with the
aid of astronomical instruments. True, the science of the Babylonians
was also still based on mythological foundations. These mythological
features, however, were combined with the idea of an all-embracing,
divine rule of law. The endeavour to find this law and order in the
starry sky, the greatest and most sublime sight that the human eye
may behold, resulted in observations that were scientific and exact.
Thus, the union of the two ideas led with a sort of inner necessity
to the acceptance of the number twelve as a norm. The application of
this norm to human relations was a direct result of the belief that
it was of divine origin. The Babylonian calendar, whose fundamental
principles, in spite of numerous reforms, have retained their authority
even down to the present, was the first to emphasize the principle of
bringing the courses of the sun and moon into an ordered numerical
relation for the purpose of reckoning time. Taking as their point of
departure the position of the sun at the vernal equinox, and following
the movements of the moon until the sun returned to the same position,
the Babylonians found that twelve revolutions of the moon were
equivalent to one of the sun. While this observation is in reality,
of course, only approximately true, to the first astronomers it might
have appeared sufficiently exact to be regarded as the law of a divine
world order. Thus, the year came to be divided into twelve months;
and, since the moon presents four phases in each month, first quarter,
full moon, last quarter, and new moon--an observation which long
antedates astronomical calculation--the month was at once divided into
four parts. Since the month has approximately twenty-eight days, the
result was a _week_, comprising _seven days_. This number, therefore,
was not, as has sometimes been erroneously assumed, derived from the
seven planets. Rather is it true, conversely, that the number of the
planets was, with a certain arbitrariness, first fixed at seven after
this number, as well as twelve, had come to be regarded as _sacred_,
because of its relation to the movements of the sun and moon. These
numbers were believed to be written by the gods themselves in flaming
letters on the sky. To the Babylonian, the sky furnished a revelation
of the laws that should govern terrestrial life. The number twelve,
especially, was adopted as the basis of the organization of human
society. Of this oldest form of division, however, only meagre and
occasional survivals have remained. We may refer to the legendary
twelve tribes of pre-exilic Israel--later a source of much difficulty
to Talmudic scholars, inasmuch as these tribes are not to be found in
history--and also to the twelve gods of Greece, the twelve Apostles,
etc. But the number twelve has not merely left its traces in legend;
it has also inscribed itself in the records of history. Thus, the
Athenian population originally comprised twelve divisions, there being
four clans (_phyles_), each of which was composed of three _phratries_.
Similarly, the colonial territory of the Greeks in Asia Minor is said
to have included twelve Ionic cities. Moreover, even in later times,
the Amphictyonic League, which undertook the protection of the Delphic
oracle, consisted of twelve amphictyons, though this, it is true, was
also connected with the division of time, each of the twelve tribal
groups being entrusted with the guardianship of the shrine for one
month in the year. With few unimportant exceptions, however, the number
twelve, which was at one time probably very widely regnant, has lost
its influence. Its place in the organization of society as well as
in the regulation of other aspects of human life has been taken by a
numerical system that still dominates our entire culture--the _decimal_
system. Even prior to the age of Columbus, the decimal system made its
appearance in certain more civilized parts of the Western world where
the duodecimal system was never known. That the former originated
independently in different places, is rendered all the more likely by
the fact that even primitive man used his ten fingers as an aid in
counting, in spite of the fact that he had not as yet formed words for
numbers greater than three or four. But, however natural this method
of counting may be, its application to the organization of the group
and the division of peoples nevertheless represents a _deliberately
adopted_ plan. If possible, this is even more true here than in the
case of the duodecimal system. We are now face to face with the wide
difference that separates political society from totemic tribal
organization. In developing on the principle of dual division, the
latter resembles a natural process which runs its own course apart from
any operation of conscious intention, even though directly influenced,
of course, by the general conditions of human life. The organization
of society according to the number ten, on the other hand, can be
interpreted only as an intentional act. Hence history not infrequently
brings this form of organization into direct association with the names
of individual lawgivers, with Clisthenes of Athens or Servius Tullius
of Rome. No doubt, a basis for this new order had been prepared by the
general conditions of a society which had progressed beyond the totemic
stage. Its systematic introduction, however, and the series of decimal
subdivisions that ensued, are only conceivable as a legislative act
emanating from a personal will. In the formation of social groups, no
less than in the classification and enumeration of external objects
of nature, there may at times have been some vacillation of choice
between the duodecimal and the decimal systems. In its application
to human society, however, the decimal system finally prevailed.
Indeed, the simple means of counting afforded by our ten fingers
supplanted the system suggested by the firmament in every field of
use, except in connection with celestial phenomena themselves and with
the reckoning of time, which was directly based on the observation
of these phenomena. That the victory of the decimal principle was
due merely to the practical necessity of choosing the principle that
was simplest and most convenient, is shown by the fact that ten was
never a sacred number, as was twelve. It has a purely terrestrial and
human origin. In the field of the practical necessities of life, man
was victorious over the gods. Perhaps, therefore, the organization
of society on the decimal principle reflects also the triumph of the
secular State over theocracy. The decimal principle likewise exercised
a certain influence upon the division of time, and it is surely not
accidental that such influence coincides with epochs that are strongly
characterized by a secularization of human interests. As early as
the sixth century B.C., the great political organizer of Athens,
Clisthenes, made an attempt to divide the year into ten months instead
of twelve. The attempt miscarried, just as did the analogous one on
the part of the first French Republic to introduce a week of ten days.
As a matter of fact, objective measurements of time are derived from
the heavens and not from man. On the other hand, our measurement of
terrestrial spaces and our grouping of populations depend entirely upon
ourselves, and therefore naturally conform to human characteristics.
In these cases, it is the decimal system that is used. In view of the
fact that the number ten was deliberately adopted, this number has been
thought to represent an idea that emanated from a single source. Since
the organization effected by Clisthenes and that of Servius Tullius in
Rome fall approximately within the same century, it has been believed
that in these cases, especially, we may assume this fundamental idea
of division to have been borrowed. The very extensive distribution
of the decimal system, however, militates against the probability of
this supposition. Thus, the Book of Exodus no longer speaks of the
legendary twelve tribes of Israel but tells of only _ten_ tribes. We
likewise hear of groups of one hundred, and of more extensive groups
consisting of one thousand. These divisions also recur among the
Germanic peoples, and in the far-distant realm of the Peruvian Incas.
Among the latter, however, there are also distinct traces of a totemic
tribal organization that antedated the invasion of the Incas. This was
the foundation upon which the Inca kings and their officials finally
reared an organization consisting of groups of ten, one hundred, and
one thousand--indeed, the latter were even brought together to form
groups of ten thousand. In certain cases, such systems may perhaps
have been introduced from without or may, in part, have been acquired
through imitation. Nevertheless, the supposition that they all
emanated from a single region is doubtless just as improbable as is the
view that the decimal system in general had but a single origin. This
new grouping of the population is closely bound up with the conditions
of political society. It is dependent upon _two_ motives, which, though
not universally operative at first, became so the very moment that
political society took its rise. The first motive is of a subjective
nature. It consists in an increased facility in the use of the decimal
mode of counting, as a result of which larger groups, consisting of
multiples of ten, are formed: besides the single group of ten, it
must have become possible to conceive of groups of one hundred, one
thousand, and, in rare cases, even of one hundred thousand. The other
motive is objective in character. There are changes in the external
conditions of life such as to demand more comprehensive and at the same
time more highly organized divisions than prevailed in the natural
tribal organization of the preceding age. In two distinct directions
does the decimal system prove readily applicable. One is in the
distribution of landed property. With the appearance of plough-culture,
land gradually came to be largely converted into personal property.
It was all the more necessary, therefore, for the individual to
unite with others for the sake of protection and aid. Thus arose the
mark-community. This naturally centred about that part of the territory
which, because it was not put under the plough but was reserved
for common use as well as common care, temporarily remained common
property--namely, the pasture and woodland. Thus, the _mark-community_
was inevitable: it resulted from the new method of cultivating the
soil, which brought with it a combination of personal property with
common ownership. The size of the community was, of course, determined
by the relation which these two forms of ownership sustained to each
other, being dependent upon the fact that the amount of common property
had to correspond with the number of individual owners who shared its
use. The right proportion of these two sorts of property could be
determined only by experience and reflection. Once ascertained, it was
but natural to adopt this proportion more generally, in connection with
more extensive groups of people. Here the decimal organization into
groups of tens and hundreds, to which subjective influences naturally
tended, promised to be convenient also from the standpoint of objective
conditions.
Independently of other factors the mark-community might have permitted
certain diversities in size. The groups were rendered uniform, however,
through the influence of another organization, whose divisions, on
the one hand, were necessarily identical with the mark-communities
but, on the other hand, possessed by their very nature a strong
inherent tendency toward regularity of size. I refer to the _military
organization_, which was created by the political society in the
interest of self-protection. In the early part of the heroic period,
the individual champion was doubtless of such pre-eminent importance
that the masses formed but a somewhat unorganized background. Homer
presents such a picture, though his account is perhaps not so much
a faithful representation of actual conditions as the result of the
individualizing tendency of poetic narrative. But just as the masses
very soon gain greater prominence in political life, so also do they
in warfare. This encourages tactical organization. At this stage
of political and military development, therefore, companies of one
hundred, and soon afterwards groups of one thousand, are formed, and
are organized as the chief divisions of the army. That these groups be
always of approximately equal size is required by military tactics;
that the group of one hundred is the tactical unit of which the other
divisions are composed, is due to the circumstance that such a group
is not too large to permit of being directed by a single leader; that
the number is an even one hundred results solely from the tendency
toward decimal enumeration. Since the political society is composed of
individuals who are, as a rule, both mark-associates and companions
in war, the two groups coalesce. The distribution of property and
territorial and military organization are the determining factors in
political society.
Political society thus acquires a new basis. The conditions determining
its character are very different from those that underlie totemic
tribal organization. Quite naturally, therefore, the tribal system
disappears with the rise of the State; it is at best but fragments
of it that survive in names, cult-alliances, or in bits of custom.
On the other hand, the new organization exercises an influence upon
all the relations of life. In part, it effects changes in existing
institutions; in part, it creates new institutions, which unite to
give the political age its characteristic stamp. We have spoken of
the peaceful arts of agriculture, which provide for the maintenance
of society, and of the military organization, reared upon agriculture
to assure safety and protection from without. There are primarily
_three_ additional features that characterize political society,
especially at its inception. The first of these is a _reorganization
of the family_. The other two are genuinely new creations, if we
except certain sporadic beginnings that occur in the transitional
culture. They consist, on the one hand, in the _differentiation of
classes and of occupations_--both of which arise in one and the same
course of development--and, on the other, in the _foundation of
cities_. Doubtless this order of sequence also approximately indicates
the successive steps in the establishment of the new political
organization. The reorganization of the family inaugurates this
development; it is terminated by the founding of cities, for cities are
the centres from which the management of the State is conducted and
which mediate intercourse between the separate regions; following upon
the former and preceding the latter, is the differentiation of classes
and of occupations--a result of property conditions and of military
organization.
4. FAMILY ORGANIZATION WITHIN POLITICAL SOCIETY.
Wherever primitive man has been protected against foreign influences,
as we have seen, he apparently always lives in monogamy. This mode
of marriage is continued in the totemic age, and is the fundamental
mode from which all others are deviations. These deviations we found
to be the two forms of polygamy--polyandry and polygyny. In the
presence of these various marriage practices, firmly established
family bonds are impossible. Striking evidence of the recedence of
the family as compared with the social bond, is offered by the men's
club, that widely prevalent institution of the totemic age. True, the
individual member of the men's club may have his own wife who lives
in her particular hut, but there is no common life of husband and
wife such as is essential for a true family. In certain cases, of
course, marriage conditions approximate somewhat more closely to a
true family life, yet the development is hindered by the overshadowing
polygyny. But the beginning of the political age marks the rise of a
new form of monogamy. The _enlarged monogamous family_, the so-called
ancient or joint family, makes its appearance. The joint family,
which is characteristic of the heroic era, takes the place of the
clan. Though the latter also survives for a time, it more and more
loses its importance and finally disappears altogether. Now the clan,
as well as the joint family, is composed of individuals of the same
ancestry--that is, of blood relations, in the wider sense--even though,
in exceptional cases, it also includes members of other clans or even
tribal strangers. The recedence of the clan in favour of the joint
family must therefore be regarded as a process in which a limited
number of closer blood relatives separate from the clan and gradually
attain the dominant influence within society. Such a development
presupposes first of all a sharper demarcation of the individual
family. Hence the joint family directly impresses one as being an
extension of the individual family. As a rule, for example, a joint
family includes _three_ generations: father, son, and grandchild.
This series of generations terminates with the third, because the
oldest male member retains the authority over the joint family only
so long as there is no generation younger than grandchildren. Though
a great-grandfather is honoured as the oldest member of the family,
the authority over the joint family passes down to the son who has
become a grandfather. Moreover, nature allows such cases as this but
rarely. The life-span of three generations is approximately a century;
and the average life of man is such that it happens but seldom that
those who are living at any one time will outspan a century. Thus,
the fact that the ancient family comprised three generations may
be due to the natural limit of life, which does not seem to have
changed essentially since the beginnings of civilization. The family
organization under discussion, therefore, is characterized, in the
first place, by monogamy; secondly, by the dominance of the man within
the single family; and thirdly, by the inclusion of three generations
under the authority of the oldest member of the family. This third
characteristic has frequently caused the typical joint family to be
called the '_patriarchal_ family.' Since it was true even of the clan
that the older men exercised the decisive influence, the clan may
be regarded as preparing the way for a patriarchal order. Such clan
alliances, for example, as the Germanic kinship groups, in which the
fact of the blood relationship of the members receives particularly
strong emphasis, form a sort of transition between the clan and
the joint family. In the joint family, it is no longer the older
generation as such that is dominant, but the _oldest individual_.
This change, as a result of which authority becomes vested in an
individual, is paralleled by that which leads to individual rulership
within the State. Thus, totemic tribal organization is doubly exposed
to disintegration, from below and from above. On the one hand, the
patriarchal joint family undermines the leadership of the clan-elders.
On the other hand, the clans, together with the tribes whose divisions
they form, are shorn of their power; they become fused into one
group which, with the rise of political society, passes under the
rulership of a single chieftain. It is particularly important to
notice that, when the joint family emerges and clan organization is
consequently dissolved, one of the most important functions of the
more restricted clan alliances, so far as concerns the inner life
of society, passes from the clan to the joint family. I refer to
_blood-revenge_. Not until it underwent many changes did retribution
come to be an affair of the State. Thus, the patriarchal family brings
to completion a twofold series of changes, whose gradual beginnings
may be discerned as early as the previous age. These are, in the first
place, the displacement of maternal descent by _paternal descent_,
and, secondly, the development of _chieftainship_. The latter at once
concludes and annuls totemic tribal organization. The motives to the
former show how untrue to the real nature of the difference between
the two social institutions it is to speak of the contrast between
mother_-right_ and father_-right_, or even between maternal _rule_
and paternal _rule_, instead of referring to the transition as one
from maternal _descent_ to paternal _descent_. Mother-right is to be
found at most in a limited sense, as applying to certain rights of the
kinship community and, connected with these, at a later time, to the
inheritance of property; mother-_rule_ never occurs, or at most is an
abnormal and exceptional phenomenon having scarcely any connection
with maternal descent as such. The motives to maternal descent, as we
have seen, are totally unrelated to the question of dominance within
the family; they are the direct result of a separation of the sexes,
which manifests itself likewise in the men's clubs. Paternal descent,
on the other hand, is from the very outset based on paternal rule. In
the form of father-right, paternal rule prevails even in the case of
the primitive monogamous family. Its original source is the natural
physical superiority of man; later, it derives its main strength
from the fact--reflected also in the origin of chieftainship--that
the general affairs of peace, as well as of war with hostile tribes,
become subject to the authority of leaders. This latter factor comes
to reinforce the former at that stage of development, particularly,
which is characterized by the dissolution of totemic institutions and
the re-emergence of the monogamous family. It is this change, together
with the growing influence of chieftainship, that marks the beginning
of the political age. Thus, the restoration of the monogamous family
came as a result of political organization. The general course of
development was the same everywhere, though the particular steps
varied greatly. It was especially in connection with the rise of the
patriarchal joint family, which is intermediate between the kinship
group and the individual family, that obstructing influences sometimes
manifested themselves. In such cases, the course of development was at
once deflected directly towards the individual family. A patriarchal
family organization of a sharply defined character appeared very early
among many of the Semitic tribes, particularly among the Israelites.
Of the Indo-Germanic peoples, it was especially the Romans who long
preserved the patriarchal system; among the Greeks and the Germanic
peoples, it had already disappeared in early times in favour of the
single family. That which preserved the joint family was probably the
force of tradition, coupled with reverence of age; the single family
reflects a sense of freedom on the part of individuals. This brings out
clearly the essential difference between the original monogamy, which
was due to natural instinct and the simple conditions of primitive
life, and the monogamy that was reinstituted as a result of the new
tendencies of political society. In the former case, no progress was
made beyond the natural starting-point, namely, the single family;
in the latter case, the joint family mediated the transition between
the dissolution of clans and the establishment of political society.
Inasmuch as the acts of primitive man were largely determined by
instincts, the original monogamy is not to be interpreted as conformity
to a norm. The reason for the almost universal occurrence of monogamous
marriage is to be found in the uniformity of the conditions of life
and of the social impulses. The monogamy of the political age, on the
other hand, is confronted by all those conflicting tendencies which
had previously given rise to the various polygamous marriage-unions
of totemic society. _One_ of these modes of marriage especially,
namely, _polygyny_, finds favourable conditions of development in
the new political order. It receives fresh impetus as a result of
that very dominance of man which brought about the transition from
the maternal descent of earlier times to paternal descent. Polyandry
and group-marriage, on the other hand, have by this time disappeared,
either entirely or, at least, with rare exceptions. Moreover,
the character of polygyny has changed. This is apparent from the
distinction between _chief wife_ and _secondary wife_--a distinction
which has, indeed, an analogy in certain phenomena of the totemic
period, but which, as a result of the conditions of public life,
now rests upon an entirely different basis. The chief wife is taken
from one's own tribe; the secondary wife belongs to a strange tribe,
being, in many cases, a slave captured in war. Thus, these changes in
polygyny reflect the warlike character of the age, as well as a growing
tendency toward a return to monogamy. On the other hand, however, we
also discern certain tendencies of a retrogressive nature. These occur
particularly within Islamitic culture, whenever the difference between
chief and secondary wives is either annulled or is subordinated to
the will of the husband. Such deviations from the general trend of
development are usually attributed to the influence of personalities.
It is not impossible, however, that they are due in this case to the
fact that Islamism spread to peoples of totemic culture. But in other
departments of life also, remnants and traces of totemic culture have
passed down to the heroic era. A striking example appears in the case
of the Spartan State. The fact that the men lived in the city, engaged
in military drill and political affairs, while the women, together with
the slaves, cultivated the fields outside of the city, clearly betrays
the influence of the ancient institution of the men's club.
5. THE DIFFERENTIATION OF CLASSES.
We have seen that the family assumes a new status within political
society. It comes to be a compact unit, contrasting markedly with the
groups composed of the same sex--in particular, the men's clubs--that
dominated the preceding period. The _differentiation of classes_ was
a no less potent factor in the development of political society. Its
beginnings, no doubt, go back to the declining period of totemic tribal
institutions, but only in the political age does it become an important
influence in social organization. This is due to _two_ conditions,
which are themselves the direct result of the folk migrations that
mark the beginning of the political age. The first of these conditions
consists in changes affecting property rights; the other, in the
subjection of the native populations by the more energetic immigrants.
The origin of property, as is well known, is even to-day generally
traced, from an abstract juristic point of view, to the occupancy of an
ownerless piece of land. This theory, however, is too abstract to be
generally true. Above all, it presupposes the existence of ownerless
land. But this is seldom to be found. Even when a migrating people
occupies new lands, it, as a rule, conquers a territory that was
previously in the possession of other tribes. If, therefore, we have in
mind the sort of property that was most significant for the development
of political culture, we should trace its origin to an _expropriation
of earlier owners_ rather than to an occupation of ownerless land.
Contradicting the abstract theory, moreover, is the fact that it is
not the individual who becomes the owner of property through such
occupation, but the _entire tribe_, the people that has immigrated and
has dispossessed the original inhabitants. Property, therefore, was
originally _common property_. True, even in early times, it was no
longer all of the land that was held in common ownership. Nevertheless,
the conditions of ownership that have emerged in the course of the
development of political society give unmistakable evidence of having
originated in common ownership. Even up to fairly recent times,
woodland and meadow have remained, either entirely or in part, common
property; usually there is also a special temple-property set apart
for purposes of cult. Everything goes to show that these cases are to
be regarded as remnants of a common property that was at one time more
comprehensive, and not as the result of joining pieces of property
that were at one time owned by individuals. The latter hypothesis is
contradicted by the whole direction of development of private property.
Interacting with changes in property rights are racial differences.
The conquering immigrant peoples subjugate the native races or
crowd them back. All the cultural peoples that possess a political
organization are the product of folk mixtures. The subjugation of an
original population may lead to varying results, depending on the
racial difference between the peoples involved. If this difference
is very great and the numerical relation makes the absorption of the
one by the other impossible, there develops a distinction of castes,
as in India, where the lower castes are clearly distinguishable from
the higher, even as to physical characteristics. The situation is
radically different where there is less divergence between the two
populations. In such cases, racial distinctions do not occur, or at
least only to a small extent; in their stead, we find differences with
respect to property and power. The conquering race becomes a privileged
class; those who are subjugated form a class of dependents who
possess fewer rights. There is no impassable barrier between the two
classes, however, as there is in the caste system. The more a fairly
unitary folk-type emerges from the racial fusions, and the more other
factors than descent come into prominence--such as common interest in
internal order and external defence, or a remarkable personal ability
on the part of individual leaders of the lower classes--the greater
the tendency, on the one hand, towards the abolition of traditional
differences, and, on the other, towards an increased recognition of
personal achievement as the basis of social standing. Such social
struggles as occurred in the history of Greece and Rome from their
early days on, are particularly illuminating as regards this point, for
they exhibit clearly the motives that were originally involved--motives
that later everywhere become more complicated.
From the very outset these motives exert a potent influence on property
relations. The occupied territory first becomes the common property
of the separate divisions of the immigrant tribe. The individual,
however, vies with his tribal associates for the possession of the
territory, and the new agricultural conditions connected with the
introduction of cattle and of the plough favour division of the land.
In addition to the superior ability of an immigrant race, it is its
superior civilization that assures to it the supremacy over the native
races. This superior civilization, however, involves a strong tendency
toward individual industry, and thus toward the differentiation
of personal property from common property. The success which the
individual owner enjoys in his labour develops in him a consciousness
of freedom, and this leads him to compete with his tribal associates
both in the acquisition of property and in the attainment of power
over the native population. Thus, the division of common property is
succeeded by an inequality of personal property--an inequality which,
from the very beginning, shows an unconquerable tendency to increase.
This tendency is fostered by the fact that political organization
makes it possible for individuals to exercise a certain control
over common affairs. Property considerations become more and more
decisive as regards class distinctions. In addition to descent from
privileged ancestors, it is property that gives the individual his
social position. An individual belonging to a people that at one time
formed a class without rights, may rise to the ranks of the privileged
classes, or, if the significance attached to birth continues to be
maintained, he, together with those like him, may at any rate attain
to an independent influence in public life. Property, however, not
only affords increased rights; it also entails greater obligations.
The wealthy possess a better military equipment, and are therefore
enlisted in the more efficient, but also the more dangerous, divisions
of the army. They are entrusted with leadership in war as well as
with authority in times of peace. Individual initiative makes itself
felt, and this, coupled with the opportunity for the exercise of such
initiative, causes political development to appear, from an external
point of view, as a series of separate voluntary acts on the part of
individual personal leaders. This, however, is not the real truth of
the situation so far as its inner motives are concerned. The heroic age
is the epoch in which the action of the masses, impulsive and under
the sway of environmental conditions, is more and more subjected to
the direction of individual leaders who have become clearly conscious
of the tendencies inherent in the social body. For this reason the
heroic age is pre-eminently the _era of personalities_. Just as the
personal god is dominant in mythology and religious cult, so the human
personality plays the leading rôle in the State, and particular,
outstanding individuals determine the conditions that regulate external
life.
As personality comes into prominence, however, conflicts inevitably
arise between individuals who feel themselves called to be the vehicles
of this personal power. Political society was not only created by war,
but it also continues to remain a theatre where conflicts are fought
with changing fortunes. Together with the effort to abolish class
distinctions, moreover, there gradually comes a demand for equality
of rights. As a result, the influence of dominating personalities,
even though never eliminated, is more and more subject to changing
conditions. Thus regarded, the general course of events is indicated
by reference to _two_ phenomena: firstly, by the development of the
State and of the judicial system, and, secondly, by the transformations
which the character of the hero undergoes in the course of history. The
first of these phenomena will presently be discussed in some detail;
the second, which puts its stamp upon the particular periods of history
in question, consists in the gradual displacement of the warrior-hero
by the hero of peace. Even legend indicates that this is the sequence
of the qualities that are supremely prized in personality. Thus, in the
legend of the kings of Rome, the warlike Romulus, founder of the city,
is followed by Numa Pompilius, the organizer of religious cult, who is
succeeded in due time by the secular lawgiver, Servius Tullius. The
warrior-hero appears first; he suggests the origin of political society
in warfare. The founder of deity cults is his immediate successor. The
lawgiver, or the political hero in the true sense of the word, stands
at the zenith of the age. The warrior initiates, whereas the legislator
completes the organization of society. Then commences the age of
citizenship, which no longer entertains a hero-ideal as such but,
instead, prizes civic virtues. On this plane of culture, the general
demands of political life and of cult are augmented by the particular
duties which grow out of the position which the individual occupies
within society. The position itself is conditioned primarily by the
rise of _differences of vocation._
6. THE DIFFERENTIATION OF VOCATIONS.
The above discussion will already have indicated the general
significance of the differentiation of vocations in the development of
political society. While the origin of classes is coincident with the
rise of the State, separate vocations appear only at its zenith. At
first there were no distinctions of vocation. The pursuits of war and
politics were common to all free men; and, while admitting of class
distinctions, they allowed no vocational differences. The priesthood
alone represented a class which followed a specific vocation, while
also engaging in other occupations, particularly in politics. The
earliest forms of specialized vocations were foreshadowed even in
the totemic age. In the heroic period, they merely adapt themselves
to the new social order resulting from the rise of a ruling class
and the consequent class distinctions. Under the influence of deity
cults, moreover, the social position of the priesthood changes, as
do also its vocational practices. The transformations in cult are an
important factor in elevating the class and the profession concerned
in its administration, securing for them a more or less important, and
in some cases a dominant, influence upon political life. In contrast
with this, all forms of human labour not connected with politics and
warfare are _degraded_. This results in occupational differences,
which are henceforth closely bound up with class distinctions. The
depreciation of which we speak, however, is not of sudden occurrence,
nor does it appear everywhere to the same extent. The conditions that
give rise to political society also involve a participation in the
pursuits of politics and warfare on the part of the freeman, who, as an
agriculturist, breeds his own domestic animals and guides his plough
over the fields. Due to these same conditions, moreover, agriculture
maintains a respected position even in later times, partly, no doubt,
as a result of the fact that the free farmer continues to enjoy the
privilege of participating in political and military affairs. Various
accessory vocations come to be sundered out from the tasks of the early
agriculturist, who, originally, himself manufactured the implements
required for his work and was thus the primitive artisan. Political
activity and the equally esteemed military vocation come more and more
to be given the place of highest honour. The occupation of the farmer
and that of the wealth-accumulating merchant, however, are also held
in high regard, doubtless because of the growing desire for property.
The independent task of the artisan, as well as art--the latter at
first scarcely distinguishable from artisanship--are either left to the
dependent population and slaves or, after class distinctions are well
developed, are given over to the lower class of citizens as occupations
of less esteem.
But in the case of vocational distinctions, just as in that of class
differentiation, the process of depreciation is succeeded by a tendency
toward _equalization_. This is due to a general shift in values.
The rhapsodist of Homeric times, though welcomed as a guest by the
superior classes, was not himself regarded by them as a companion
of equal rank. It is only gradually that the value placed on an art
becomes transferred to the artist himself. That this occurs is due
in an important measure to the fact that the arts of outstanding
significance--gymnastics, poetry, and music--are not practised merely
by a specific profession, but are also favourite occupations of
the warrior or the statesman in his hours of leisure. The respect
accorded the artist is gradually extended to such other arts as
already constitute vocational labour; as external culture becomes
more refined, even the artisan wins a growing esteem, through his
decoration of weapons, implements, and clothing. In the case of the
arts that require a particularly high degree of vocational training, it
is significant to note that, in spite of the high estimate placed on
his product, the artist himself is able to rise but slowly above the
plane of the mere artisan. Thus, the measure of esteem accorded to the
arts gradually diminishes, according as we pass from those that spring
up spontaneously, solely from inner impulse, to those that minister to
the satisfaction of needs. The immediate cause for this gradation of
values probably lies in the fact that political activity, which here
forms the mediating link, is itself of the nature of a free vocation,
requiring the exercise particularly of mental capacities. For this
reason, however, the regard in which the various occupations are held
tends to be equalized according as class distinctions disappear. The
latter, however, occurs in proportion as all citizens come to acquire
equal privileges in the exercise of political rights. To the majority,
indeed, political activity remains but a secondary vocation, being
overshadowed by the main occupation, which requires the greater amount
of attention. Because of its political character, however, it is the
secondary vocation that primarily determines the social position of the
individual. The fact that all citizens come to participate in political
activity, therefore, even though failing to equalize the esteem in
which the various occupations were held, nevertheless caused the
disappearance of the distinctions in personal status which occupational
differences originally involved.
7. THE ORIGIN OF CITIES.
The differentiation of classes and vocations is conditioned, in a large
measure, by a change in the spacial distribution of the population.
This change is a result of the rise of political society, and comes
to be the outstanding external characteristic of the State as soon
as the latter begins to assume definite form. I have in mind the
_foundation of cities_. In the totemic age, there were no cities,
but at most fair-sized groups of huts or houses, forming villages.
These village settlements were all equally independent; they differed
at most as regards spacial extent. But the city, in its _original_
form, always exercised control over a smaller or larger stretch of
territory, consisting either of separate farms or of villages with
the territory belonging to them. As the seat of political power, the
city was an infallible indication of the existence of the State. Hence
it is that those who discuss the original forms of political society
are not infrequently led to regard State and city as identical. Such
an identification, however, is not at all justifiable. Even in their
beginnings the Greek States and the Roman State were not mere city
States; all that may be said is that the political power was centred
in the city. This is true, also, of the original city as it existed in
the Orient and in the ancient civilizations of Mexico and Peru. The
same characteristic distinguishes the early city from the many later
sorts of cities that arose in response to the needs of intercourse and
trade. The original city was the abode of the political and military
leaders of the people who occupied the new territory and thus formed
a State. This appears most strikingly in the case of Sparta--the
State which preserved most fully the features of an earlier form of
social organization. One might almost be inclined to say that the
men's club developed by totemic tribal organization was here present
in the form of a city of men established within a political order.
But even in Athens and in the other Greek States the city was only
the seat of the political power, whereas the State embraced the
adjacent territory as well. The centre of the city, therefore, was
the castle. This constituted the military defence of the State, and
was the dwelling of the king or, in republican forms of government,
of the highest officials. Connected with the castle was the temple
of the guardian deity of the city. The immediate environment of the
temple was the meeting-place of those who inhabited the territory
protected by the castle and its temple. Here they assembled, partly
for trade and partly for deliberative or popular gatherings. The
economic and political intercourse which centred about the castle
fostered the growth of a larger city, inasmuch as numbers of the rural
inhabitants gradually settled down under the close protection of the
castle. Directly connected with this development was the separation
from agriculture of the occupations of art, handicraft, trade, and
eventually of political office. Because of their enormous extent, the
great Oriental realms included a number of city centres. Yet even
here the original conditions maintained themselves, inasmuch as _one_
of these cities continued to be not only the political seat of the
State but also the chief centre of cult. The guardian deity of the
leading city was likewise the guardian deity of the State, and, as
such, was supreme among the gods. Cult was thus patterned after the
political order. This influence of the city upon cult was reflected
in temple construction. The totemic age possessed no cities, and it
likewise lacked temples. Temples, therefore, are not only indicative
of deity cult, whose development is bound up with political society,
but they also signalize the existence of cities. The temple itself was
characterized by a very rich architecture. In Babylonia it was the
mighty tower, in Egypt the pair of obelisks at the entrance, which
proclaimed to the surrounding neighbourhood the dwelling-place of the
deity and the seat of political power. The two were identical, for it
was in the name of the guardian deity of the city that the State was
originally governed and that justice was meted out. In Oriental realms,
the ruler was the representative of the deity, and the priests were the
State officials, as well as the devotees of science and art. Tradition,
together with numerous usages preserved in custom and laws, testify
to the same original unification of religious and political authority
in Greece and Rome. Although the State here became secularized at
a comparatively early time, and art and science likewise freed
themselves from theocratic dominance, the idea of a guardian deity
of the city and State was long maintained. It was this that invested
the secularized legal system with a halo of sanctity. If the course
of development in Greece and Rome differed from that of the Oriental
realms, this may be due, in an important measure, to the fact that they
very early broke up into a considerable number of independent city
States. Herein, of course, is expressed the character of Indo-Germanic
peoples. Even in very ancient times they manifested a disposition to
allow free play to the assertion of the individual personality; this
differentiates them from the Semitic race, with its strong inclination
to hold fast to traditional norms. Hence it is that, while the cult
of the various Greek cities remained practically the same, the cities
themselves became distinct political communities. The status of the
Delphic priesthood, in whom this unity of cult very early found its
expression, was therefore naturally reduced to that of an advisory
council. In the individual States, the dominance of political interests
and the struggle for power, which was heightened by the personal
inter-relationships within the narrow circle of the city, deprived
the priesthood of all authority except over cult. True, in the case
of Rome, the original union of political order and religious cult was
firmer and more permanent, due to the fact that _one_ city early gained
the supremacy over the other Italian cities and States. And yet, hand
in hand with the extension of political dominance, went the adoption of
cults that were previously strange. This led to a number of competing
priest-associations, none of which could gain the leadership, since all
alike were but servants of the political power.
Thus, in spite of considerable diversity as to incidental conditions,
city and State were closely bound up with each other in the development
of political society. We find no city apart from a State, and it is
doubtful whether there was a State without a city as the seat and
centre of its political power. But this correlation obtained only
during the period of the genesis of States and of the attendant rise
of the _original_ city. Once States have come into existence, many
other conditions may lead to the establishment of a community which, as
regards extent and relative political independence, is of the nature
of a city. Such phenomena may be referred to as the _secondary_
foundation of cities; they are possible only on the basis of a
previously existing political society. An approximation to original
conditions occurs when a victorious State either establishes cities
in the conquered provinces, centralizing in them the power over the
respective territories, or transforms cities that already exist into
political centres. Occurrences of this sort were frequent during the
extension of Alexander's world-dominion and at the time of the Roman
Empire. The same fact may be observed at a later period, in connection
with the occupation of the Italian cities by the Goths and Lombards.
The German cities founded during the Middle Ages differ still more
widely from the original type. These cities first arose as market
centres, and then gradually acquired political privileges. Thus, the
process of the original foundation of cities was, as it were, reversed.
In the latter case, the castle came first and the market followed;
the mediæval city began as a market and reached its completion with
the building of a castle. In mediæval times, however, leadership was
not originally vested in the city but in rulers who occupied isolated
estates scattered here and there throughout the country. Yet these
secondary phenomena and their further development do not belong to our
present problem of the origin of political society.