(granting their possibility) were prevalent, one might expect that
faculties so useful would be developed in the struggle for existence. That
they are deliberately cultivated by modern savages we know. The Indian
foster-mother of John Tanner used, when food was needed, to suggest
herself into an hypnotic condition, so that she became _clairvoyante_ as
to the whereabouts of game. Tanner, an English boy, caught early
by the Indians, was sceptical, but came to practise the same art, not
unsuccessfully, himself.[24] His reminiscences, which he dictated on his
return to civilisation, were certainly not feigned in the interests of any
theories. But the most telepathic human stocks, it may be said, ought,
_ceteris paribus_, to have been the most successful in the struggle
for existence. We may infer that the _cetera_ were not _paria_, the
clairvoyant state not being precisely the best for the practical business
of life. But really we know nothing of the psychical state of the earliest
men. They may have had experiences tending towards a belief in 'spirits,'
of which we can tell nothing. We are obliged to guess, in considerable
ignorance of the actual conditions, and this historical ignorance
inevitably besets all anthropological speculation about the origin of
religion.
The knowledge of our nescience as to the psychical condition of our first
thinking ancestors may suggest hesitation as to taking it for granted that
early man was on our own or on the modern savage level in 'psychical'
experience. Even savage races, as Mr. Tylor justly says, attribute
superior psychical knowledge to neighbouring tribes on a yet lower level
of culture than themselves. The Finn esteems the Lapp sorcerers above his
own; the Lapp yields to the superior pretensions of the Samoyeds. There
may be more ways than one of explaining this relative humility: there is
Hegel's way and there is Mr. Tylor's way. We cannot be certain, _a
priori_, that the earliest man knew no more of supernormal or apparently
supernormal experiences than we commonly do, or that these did not
influence his thoughts on animism.
It is an example of the chameleon-like changes of science (even of
'science falsely so called' if you please) that when he wrote his book, in
1871, Mr. Tylor could not possibly have anticipated this line of argument.
'Psychical planes' had not been invented; hypnotism, with its problems,
had not been much noticed in England. But 'Spiritualism' was flourishing.
Mr. Tylor did not ignore this revival of savage philosophy. He saw very
well that the end of the century was beholding the partial rehabilitation
of beliefs which were scouted from 1660 to 1850. Seventy years ago, as Mr.
Tylor says, Dr. Macculloch, in his 'Description of the Western Islands of
Scotland,' wrote of 'the famous Highland second sight' that 'ceasing to be
believed it has ceased to exist.'[25]
Dr. Macculloch was mistaken in his facts. 'Second sight' has never
ceased to exist (or to be believed to exist), and it has recently been
investigated in the 'Journal' of the Caledonian Medical Society. Mr. Tylor
himself says that it has been 'reinstated in a far larger range of
society, and under far better circumstances of learning and prosperity.'
This fact he ascribes generally to 'a direct revival from the regions of
savage philosophy and peasant folklore,' a revival brought about in great
part by the writings of Swedenborg. To-day things have altered. The
students now interested in this whole class of alleged supernormal
phenomena are seldom believers in the philosophy of Spiritualism in the
American sense of the word.[26]
Mr. Tylor, as we have seen, attributes the revival of interest in this
obscure class of subjects to the influence of Swedenborg. It is true, as
has been shown, that Swedenborg attracted the attention of Kant. But
modern interest has chiefly been aroused and kept alive by the phenomena
of hypnotism. The interest is now, among educated students, really
scientific.
Thus Mr. William James, Professor of Psychology in the University of
Harvard, writes:
'I was attracted to this subject (Psychical Research) some years ago by
my love of fair play in Science.'[27]
Mr. Tylor is not incapable of appreciating this attitude. Even the
so-called 'spirit manifestations,' he says, 'should be discussed on their
merits,' and the investigation 'would seem apt to throw light on some most
interesting psychological questions.' Nothing can be more remote from the
logic of Hume.
The ideas of Mr. Tylor on the causes of the origin of religion are
now criticised, not from the point of view of spiritualism, but of
experimental psychology. We hold that very probably there exist human
faculties of unknown scope; that these conceivably were more powerful
and prevalent among our very remote ancestors who founded religion; that
they may still exist in savage as in civilised races, and that they may
have confirmed, if they did not originate, the doctrine of separable
souls. If they _do_ exist, the circumstance is important, in view of the
fact that modern ideas rest on a denial of their existence.
Mr. Tylor next examines the savage and other _names_ for the ghost-soul,
such as shadow (_umbra_), breath (_spiritus_), and he gives cases in
which the _shadow_ of a man is regarded as equivalent to his _life_. Of
course, the shadow in the sunlight does not resemble the phantasm in a
dream. The two, however, were combined and identified by early thinkers,
while _breath_ and _heart_ were used as symbols of 'that in men which
makes them live,' a phrase found among the natives of Nicaragua in 1528.
The confessedly symbolical character of the phrase, 'it is _not_
precisely the heart, but that in them which makes them live,' proves that
to the speaker life was _not_ 'heart' or 'breath,' but that these terms
were known to be material word-counters for the conception of life.[1]
Whether the earliest thinkers identified heart, breath, shadow, with life,
or whether they consciously used words of material origin to denote an
immaterial conception, of course we do not know. But the word in the
latter case would react on the thought, till the Roman inhaled (as his
life?) the last breath of his dying kinsman, he well knowing that the
Manes of the said kinsman were elsewhere, and not to be inhaled.
Subdivisions and distinctions were then recognised, as of the Egyptian
_Ka_, the 'double,' the Karen _kelah_, or 'personal life-phantom'
(_wraith_), on one side, and the Karen _thah_, 'the responsible moral
soul,' on the other. The Roman _umbra_ hovers about the grave, the _manes_
go to Orcus, the _spiritus_ seeks the stars.
We are next presented with a crowd of cases in which sickness or lethargy
is ascribed by savages to the absence of the patient's spirit, or of one
of his spirits. This idea of migratory spirit is next used by savages to
explain certain proceedings of the sorcerer, priest, or seer. His soul,
or one of his souls is thought to go forth to distant places in quest of
information, while the seer, perhaps, remains lethargic. Probably, in the
struggle for existence, he lost more by being lethargic than he gained by
being clairvoyant!
Now, here we touch the first point in Mr. Tylor's theory, where a critic
may ask, Was this belief in the wandering abroad of the seer's spirit a
theory not only false in its form (as probably it is), but also wholly
unbased on experiences which might raise a presumption in favour of the
existence of phenomena really supernormal? By 'supernormal' experiences I
here mean such as the acquisition by a human mind of knowledge which could
not be obtained by it through the recognised channels of sensation. Say,
for the sake of argument, that a person, savage or civilised, obtains in
trance information about distant places or events, to him unknown, and,
through channels of sense, unknowable. The savage will explain this by
saying that the seer's soul, shadow, or spirit, wandered out of the body
to the distant scene. This is, at present, an unverified theory. But
still, for the sake of argument, suppose that the seer did honestly
obtain this information in trance, lethargy, or hypnotic sleep, or any
other condition. If so, the modern savage (or his more gifted ancestors)
would have other grounds for his theory of the wandering soul than any
ground presented by normal occurrences, ordinary dreams, shadows, and so
forth. Again, in human nature there would be (if such things occur) a
potentiality of experiences other and stranger than materialism will admit
as possible. It will (granting the facts) be impossible to aver that there
is _nihil in intellectu quod non prius in sensu_. The soul will be not
_ce qu'un vain peuple pense_ under the new popular tradition, and the
savage's theory of the spirit will be, at least in part, based on other
than normal and every-day facts. That condition in which the seer acquires
information, not otherwise accessible, about events remote in space, is
what the mesmerists of the mid-century called 'travelling clairvoyance.'
If such an experience be _in rerum natura_, it will not, of course,
justify the savage's theory that the soul is a separable entity, capable
of voyaging, and also capable of existing after the death of the body. But
it will give the savage a better excuse for his theory than normal
experiences provide; and will even raise a presumption that reflection on
mere ordinary experiences--death, shadow, trance--is not the sole origin
of his theory. For a savage so acute as Mr. Tylor's hypothetical early
reasoner might decline to believe that his own or a friend's soul had been
absent on an expedition, unless it brought back information not normally
to be acquired. However, we cannot reason, _a priori_, as to how far the
logic of a savage might or might not go on occasion.
In any case, a scientific reasoner might be expected to ask: 'Is this
alleged acquisition of knowledge, _not_ through the ordinary channels of
sense, a thing _in rerum natura_?' Because, if it is, we must obviously
increase our list of the savage's reasons for believing in a soul: we
must make his reasons include 'psychical' experiences, and there must be
an X region to investigate.
These considerations did not fail to present themselves to Mr. Tylor. But
his manner of dealing with them is peculiar. With his unequalled knowledge
of the lower races, it was easy for him to examine travellers' tales about
savage seers who beheld distant events in vision, and to allow them what
weight he thought proper, after discounting possibilities of falsehood and
collusion. He might then have examined modern narratives of similar
performances among the civilised, which are abundant. It is obvious and
undeniable that if the supernormal acquisition of knowledge in trance is a
_vera causa_, a real process, however rare, Mr. Tylor's theory needs
modifications; while the character of the savage's reasoning becomes more
creditable to the savage, and appears as better bottomed than we had been
asked to suppose. But Mr. Tylor does not examine this large body of
evidence at all, or, at least, does not offer us the details of his
examination. He merely writes in this place:
'A typical spiritualistic instance may be quoted from Jung-Stilling, who
says that examples have come to his knowledge of sick persons who,
longing to see absent friends, have fallen into a swoon, during which
they have appeared to the distant objects of their affection.'[29]
Jung-Stilling (though he wrote before modern 'Spiritualism' came in) is
not a very valid authority; there is plenty of better evidence than his,
but Mr. Tylor passes it by, merely remarking that 'modern Europe has kept
closely enough to the lines of early philosophy.' Modern Europe has indeed
done so, if it explains the supernormal acquisition of knowledge, or the
hallucinatory appearance of a distant person to his friend by a theory of
wandering 'spirits.' But facts do not cease to be facts because wrong
interpretations have been put upon them by savages, by Jung-Stilling, or
by anyone else. The real question is, Do such events occur among lower and
higher races, beyond explanation by fraud and fortuitous coincidence? We
gladly grant that the belief in Animism, when it takes the form of a
theory of 'wandering spirits,' is probably untenable, as it is assuredly
of savage origin. But we are not absolutely so sure that in this aspect
the theory is not based on actual experiences, not of a normal and
ordinary kind. If so, the savage philosophy and its supposed survivals in
belief will appear in a new light. And we are inclined to hold that an
examination of the mass of evidence to which Mr. Tylor offers here so
slight an allusion will at least make it wise to suspend our judgment,
not only as to the origins of the savage theory of spirits, but as to the
materialistic hypothesis of the absence of a psychical element in man.
I may seem to have outrun already the limits of permissible hypothesis. It
may appear absurd to surmise that there can exist in man, savage or
civilised, a faculty for acquiring information not accessible by the known
channels of sense, a faculty attributed by savage philosophers to the
wandering soul. But one may be permitted to quote the opinion of
M. Charles Richet, Professor of Physiology in the Faculty of Medicine
in Paris. It is not cited because M. Richet is a professor of physiology,
but because he reached his conclusion after six years of minute
experiment. He says: 'There exists in certain persons, at certain moments,
a faculty of acquiring knowledge which has no _rapport_ with our normal
faculties of that kind.'[30]
Instances tending to raise a presumption in favour of M. Richet's idea may
now be sought in savage and civilised life.
[Footnote 1: _Primitive Culture,_ i. 9, 10.]
[Footnote 2: _Origin of Ranks._]
[Footnote 3: I may be permitted to refer to 'Reply to Objections' in the
appendix to my _Myth, Ritual, and Religion,_ vol. ii.]
[Footnote 4: Spencer, _Ecclesiastical Institutions_, pp. 672, 673.]
[Footnote 5: _Primitive Culture_, i. 417-425. Cf. however _Princip. Of
Sociol._, p. 304.]
[Footnote 6: Op. cit. i. 423, 424.]
[Footnote 7: Published for the Berlin Society of Experimental Psychology,
Günther, Leipzig, 1890.]
[Footnote 8: _Ecclesiastical Institutions_, 837-839.]
[Footnote 9: _Primitive Culture_, i. 421, chapter xi.]
[Footnote 10: This theory is what Mr. Spencer calls 'Animism,' and does
not believe in. What Mr. Tylor calls 'Animism' Mr. Spencer believes in,
but he calls it the 'Ghost Theory.']
[Footnote 11: _Primitive Culture_, i. 428.]
[Footnote 12: Howitt, _Journal of Anthropological Institute_, xiii.
191-195.]
[Footnote 13: The curious may consult, for savage words for 'dreams,' Mr.
Scott's _Dictionary of the Mang'anja Language_, s.v. 'Lots,' or any
glossary of any savage language.]
[Footnote 14: _Prim. Cult._ i. 429.]
[Footnote 15: _Prim. Cult._ i. 428.]
[Footnote 16: Ibid. i. 285.]
[Footnote 17: Ibid. i. 285, 286.]
[Footnote 18: _Primitive Culture_, i. 446.]
[Footnote 19: See, however, Dr. Von Schrenck-Notzing, _Die Beobachtung
narcolischer Mittel für den Hypnotismus_, and S.P.R. _Proceedings_, x.
292-899.]
[Footnote 20: _Primitive Culture_, i. 306-316.]
[Footnote 21: i. 315.]
[Footnote 22: _Phil. des Geistes_, pp. 406, 408.]
[Footnote 23: See also Mr. A.J. Balfour's Presidential Address to the
Society for Psychical Research, _Proceedings_, vol. x. See, too, Taine,
_De l'Intelligence_, i. 78, 106, 139.]
[Footnote 24: Tanner's _Narrative_, New York, 1830.]
[Footnote 25: _Primitive Culture_, i. 143.]
[Footnote 26: As 'spiritualism' is often used in opposition to
'materialism,' and with no reference to rapping 'spirits,' the modern
belief in that class of intelligences may here be called spiritism.]
[Footnote 27: _The Will to Believe_, preface, p. xiv.]
[Footnote 28: _Primitive Culture_, i. 432,433. Citing Oviedo, _Hist. De
Nicaragua,_ pp. 21-51.]
[Footnote 29: _Primitive Culture_, i. 440. Citing Stilling after Dale Owen,
and quoting Mr. Alfred Russel Wallace's _Scientific Aspect of the
Supernatural_, p. 43. Mr. Tylor also adds folk-lore practices of
ghost-seeing, as on St. John's Eve. St. Mark's Eve, too, is in point, as
far as folk-lore goes.]
[Footnote 30: _Proceedings_, S.P.R. v. 167.]
IV
'OPENING THE GATES OF DISTANCE'
'To open the Gates of Distance' is the poetical Zulu phrase for what is
called clairvoyance, or _vue à distance_. This, if it exists, is the
result of a faculty of undetermined nature, whereby knowledge of remote
events may be acquired, not through normal channels of sense. As the Zulus
say: '_Isiyezi_ is a state in which a man becomes slightly insensible. He
is awake, but still sees things which he would not see if he were not in a
state of ecstasy (_nasiyesi_).'[1] The Zulu description of _isiyezi_
includes what is technically styled 'dissociation.' No psychologist or
pathologist will deny that visions of an hallucinatory sort may occur in
dissociated states, say in the _petit mal_ of epilepsy. The question,
however, is whether any such visions convey actual information not
otherwise to be acquired, beyond the reach of chance coincidence to
explain.
A Scottish example, from the records of a court of law, exactly
illustrates the Zulu theory. At the moment when the husband of Jonka
Dyneis was in danger six miles from her house in his boat, Jonka 'was
found, and seen standing at her own house wall in a trance, and being
taken, she could not give answer, but stood as bereft of her senses, and
when she was asked why she was so moved, she answered, "If our boat be not
lost, she was in great hazard."' (October 2, 1616.)[2]
The belief in opening the Gates of Distance is, of course, very widely
diffused. The gift is attributed to Apollonius of Tyana, to Plotinus, to
many Saints, to Catherine de' Medici, to the Rev. Mr. Peden,[3] and to
Jeanne d'Arc, while the faculty is the stock in trade of savage seers in
all regions.[4]
The question, however, on which Mr. Tylor does not touch, is, _Are any of
the stories true?_ If so, of course they would confirm in the mind
of the savage his theory of the wandering soul. Now, to find anything
like attested cases of successful clairvoyance among savages is a
difficult task. White men either scout the idea, or are afraid of seeming
superstitious if they give examples, or, if they do give examples, are
accused of having sunk to the degraded level of Zulus or Red Indians. Even
where travellers, like Scheffer, have told about their own experiences,
the narratives are omitted by modern writers on savage divination.[5] We
must therefore make our own researches, and it is to be noted that
the stories of successful savage clairvoyance are given as illustrations
merely, not as evidence to facts, for we cannot cross-examine the
witnesses.
Mr. Tylor dismisses the topic in a manner rather cavalier:
'Without discussing on their merits the accounts of what is called
"second sight,"[6] it may be pointed out that they are related among
savage tribes, as when Captain Jonathan Carver obtained from a Cree
medicine-man a true prophecy of the arrival of a canoe with news next
day at noon; or when Mr. J. Mason Brown, travelling with two _voyageurs_
on the Copper Mine River, was met by Indians of the very band he was
seeking, these having been sent by their medicine-man, who, on
enquiry, stated that "he saw them coming, and heard them talk on their
journey."'[7]
Now, in our opinion, the 'merits' of stories of second sight need
discussion, because they may, if well attested, raise a presumption that
the savage's theory has a better foundation than Mr. Tylor supposes. Oddly
enough, though Mr. Tylor does not say so, Dr. Brinton (from whom he
borrows his two anecdotes) is more or less of our opinion.
'There are,' says Dr. Brinton, 'statements supported by unquestionable
testimony, which ought not to be passed over in silence, and yet I cannot
but approach them with hesitation. They are so revolting to the laws of
exact science, so alien, I had almost said, to the experience of our
lives. Yet is this true, or are such experiences only ignored and put
aside without serious consideration?'
That is exactly what we complain of; the alleged facts are 'put aside
without serious consideration.'
We, at least, are not slaves to the idea that 'the laws of exact science'
must be the only laws at work in the world. Science, however exact, does
not pretend to have discovered all 'laws.'
To return to actual examples of the alleged supernormal acquisition of
knowledge by savages: Dr. Brinton gives an example from Charlevoix and
General Mason Brown's anecdote.[8] In General Mason Brown's instance the
medicine-man, at a great distance, bade his emissaries 'seek three whites,
whose horses, arms, attire, and personal appearance he minutely described,
which description was repeated to General Brown by the warriors _before
they saw his two companions.'_ General Brown assured Dr. Brinton of 'the
accuracy of this in every particular.' Mr. Tylor has certainly not
improved the story in his condensed version. Dr. Brinton refers to 'many'
tales such as these, and some will be found in 'Among the Zulus,' by Mr.
David Leslie (1875).
Mr. Leslie was a Scottish sportsman, brought up from boyhood in
familiarity with the Zulus. His knowledge of their language and customs
was minute, and his book, privately printed, contains much interesting
matter. He writes:
'I was obliged to proceed to the Zulu country to meet my Kaffir
elephant-hunters, the time for their return having arrived. They were
hunting in a very unhealthy country, and I had agreed to wait for them
on the North-East border, the nearest point I could go to with safety.
I reached the appointed rendezvous, but could not gain the slightest
intelligence of my people at the kraal.
'After waiting some time, and becoming very uneasy about them, one of
my servants recommended me to go to the doctor, and at last, out of
curiosity and _pour passer le temps_, I did go.
'I stated what I wanted--information about my hunters--and I was met by
a stern refusal. "I cannot tell anything about white men," said he, "and
I know nothing of their ways." However, after some persuasion and
promise of liberal payment, impressing upon him the fact that it was not
white men but Kaffirs I wanted to know about, he at last consented,
saying "he would _open the Gate of Distance_, and would travel through
it, even although his body should lie before me."
'His first proceeding was to ask me the number and names of my hunters.
To this I demurred, telling him that if he obtained that information
from me he might easily substitute some news which he may have heard
from others, instead of the "spiritual telegraphic news" which I
expected him to get from his "familiar."
'To this he answered: "I told you I did not understand white men's ways;
but if I am to do anything for you it must be done in my way--not
yours." On receiving this fillip I felt inclined to give it up, as I
thought I might receive some rambling statement with a considerable
dash of truth, it being easy for anyone who knew anything of hunting to
give a tolerably correct idea of their motions.
'However, I conceded this point also, and otherwise satisfied him.
'The doctor then made eight little fires--that being the number of my
hunters; on each he cast some roots,[9] which emitted a curious sickly
odour and thick smoke; into each he cast a small stone, shouting, as he
did so, the name to which the stone was dedicated; then he ate some
"medicine," and fell over in what appeared to be a trance for about ten
minutes, during all which time his limbs kept moving. Then he seemed to
wake, went to one of the fires, raked the ashes about, looked at the
stone attentively, described the man faithfully, and said: "This man has
died of the fever, and your gun is lost."