# Folk-Lore/Volume 26/War and Savagery

PRESIDENTIAL ADDRESS.
War and Savagery.
A year ago, when we were met together, as now, to take periodic stock of our work, all seemed to be very well with the Society and with the world at large; the glass was steady and the sun shone; and, as honest reapers and harvesters are wont to do, we celebrated our rites festively. This year we are in no mood for festivity, and hardly in a mood for any scientific occupation. Our thoughts are fixed upon the War, It would be empty to pretend to ourselves that we care about anything else. Science, after all, is but a function of the Higher Life, and the Higher Life itself is in jeopardy.
Hence I have not sought to avoid the subject of war, but rather propose to make it my chief theme to-night. On the other hand, it behoves us to remember that science aims at a rigid impartiality of view. It may not, indeed, be humanly possible to divest ourselves wholly of prejudice. But those who foregather in the name of science must, at least, try to see things as they truly are". Thus in the hour of greatest stress we may have recourse to science as to some anodyne, because it teaches us to face facts and keep a cool head.
Moreover, it lies beyond our province to discuss, at any rate in a direct way, the rights and wrongs of the present struggle in Europe. Our peculiar concern is not with ​"civilization," as we optimistically call it, but with the opposite condition which for want of a better word goes by the name of "savagery." Now, as Sir Everard im Thurn points out in the Address which I had the pleasure of hearing him deliver a short while ago in Australia, it is unfortunate that there is no "term of less misleading suggestion" to provide a label for that form of human culture which in broad contrast to our own we class as rude or primitive. One is apt in speaking of "savagery" to allow the implication of brutal ferocity to slip in unchallenged. But such a piece of question-begging is utterly unfair. No wonder that, by way of counterblast, Professor von Luschan was moved to emit his famous paradox: "The only "savages" in Africa are certain white men!"
For, as we all know, "savage" is by etymology nothing other than "silvaggio," a "forester" or "woodlander" resembling those of whom Lucretius sang:—
"silvestria membra Nuda dabant terrae, nocturno tempore capti, Circum se foliis ac frondibus involventes."
Now such a label would not be inappropriate if it could be made to carry a purely economic, as distinguished from a moral, connotation. Economically regarded, the class of savage or wild folk includes all those who live in close dependence on the immediate physical environment. The savage is thus the veritable "child of nature," since his natural surroundings so largely make him what he is. This description does not merely apply to the most backward jungle tribes who, like Pliny's Artabatites, "wander and go up and downe in the forests like foure-footed sauvage ​beasts." It is no less true of the member of a relatively advanced community, as, for example, the native of East Central Africa, of whom Drummond with a word-painter's licence writes: "One stick, pointed, makes him a spear; two sticks rubbed together make him a fire; fifty sticks together make him a home. The bark he peels from them makes his clothes; the fruits which hang on them form his food." If, then, we construe "forest" as equivalent to anykind of natural waste, whether it be tangled jungle or bare mountain-side, variegated park-land or monotonous desert, we may find in it a sufficiently accurate differentia of savagery as compared with civilization, when the two are considered primarily as opposed conditions of the economic order. As Buckle puts it not unfairly: "Looking at the history of the world as a whole, the tendency has been, in Europe to subordinate nature to man; out of Europe to subordinate man to nature."
Can we, however, proceed to assume offhand that the conquest of nature involves the conquest of self? It would certainly be unscientific to accept it as a dogma that morality is but a function of the economic life. Let us beware of a priori judgments coloured by the "historical materialism" of Marx and his school of thought. Only the study of the facts of human history can reveal how far material prosperity and righteousness go together; and these facts do not on the face of them tell a plain tale. It was no less a historian than Gibbon who returned the dubious verdict: "Every age of the world has increased, and still increases, the real wealth, the happiness, the knowledge, and perhaps the virtue, of the human race."
​Indeed, if we belong to the party of those who look with jaundiced eye on the flaunting triumphs of this age of machines—machines which at this present moment are proving their quality mainly as instruments of destruction—we may be too ready to yield to the converse fallacy, namely, that of identifying the morals of the primaeval forest with those of the Garden of Eden. For fallacy it surely is to overlook the fact that a great many savages are bloodthirsty and cruel, even if other savages be mild and innocuous in the extreme. The problem thereupon arises: Which of these two types, the bloodthirsty or the mild, is the higher and better, as judged from an ethical standpoint? When we turn aside from the burning questions of this distressful hour, and contemplate in a calm spirit, and as it were from a distance, the various dispositions and fortunes of the wild folk of the earth, shall we award the palm of moral worth to the warlike or to the peaceful among them? Or, if it turn out that there is something unsatisfactory in the actual moral state of each alike, which of the two must be held to exhibit the greater promise of growth, the richer possibilities of ultimate moral expansion? Does innocence prove the more blessed condition from first to last? Or is the savagery that deservedly carries with it the suggestion of ruthlessness and ferocity more prolific notwithstanding of human good in the long run?
On the one hand, then, there is no difficulty in gathering together a cloud of witness on behalf of the claims of the mild type of savage. The Hottentots, for instance, were considered by Kolben to be "certainly the most friendly, the most liberal, and the most benevolent people to one another that ever appeared on the earth." Of the Let-htas Colquhoun writes, "They have no laws or rulers, and the Karens say they do not require any, as the Let-htas never ​commit any evil among themselves or against any other people." And so one traveller after another ascribes the character of "blameless Ethiopians" to this or that small and unwarlike group of wild folk. We need not spend time over the enumeration of instances, when the testimony is so unanimous. It is plain that hidden away in the odd corners of the world are many little peoples, as innocent as they are insignificant, of whom one might say in the language of cold science very much what in the romantic pages of Sir John Mandeville is expressed thus: "and alle be it that thei ben not cristned, ne have no perfyt lawe, zit natheless of kyndily lawe thei ben fulle of all Vertue, and thei eschewen alle Vices and alle Malices and alle Synnes."
On the other hand, again, the predatory savages form a well-marked type; and it is incontestable that, though Iroquois or Zulus, let us say, represent in some sense the very flower of the North American or African stocks, yet their cruelty and ruthlessness were on a level with their energy and courage. What need to labour the point? Their record, written in blood, speaks for itself.
Comparing, then, the mild savages with the fierce in respect of their position in the evolutionary scale, we are at once struck by the fact that, whereas the fierce peoples were established and, until the oncoming of the Whites, held their own, in the midst of some crowded field of competition, some capital "area of characterization," as de Quatrefages would term it, the mild peoples, on the contrary, are one and all the denizens of "protected" districts. The latter, in other words, pursue the simple life in ​tropical jungles, deserts, hill-country, islands, polar regions, and, generally, in isolated and unattractive portions of the globe, where stagnation or positive degeneration must inevitably obtain in default of the bracing effects of the struggle for existence. It does not follow in the least, because a tribe has persisted through the ages, that it has likewise been growing and improving through the ages. There are many modes of survival, and not all are equally creditable.
"Nam quaecumque vides vesci vitalibus auris, Aid dolus aut virtus aut denique mobilitas est Ex ineunte aevo genus id tutata reservans."
Mobility, indeed, in the sense of the power of beating a wise retreat in time is largely responsible for the continuance of the milder varieties of man. An element of sheer luck, too, may well enter in, more especially when survival depends on merely lying low. As the Preacher says, "I returned and saw under the sun that the race is not to the swift nor the battle to the strong, neither yet bread to the wise, nor yet riches to men of understanding, nor yet favour to men of skill; but time and chance happeneth to them all." Nay, insignificance itself may confer a vital advantage. When adaptation takes the direction of greater simplicity of organization, as is seen, for example, in the typical parasite, we term the process one of degeneration. The simple reason is, however, that we who promulgate this judgment of value are ourselves committed to a policy of progress; such progress being definable in technical language as an elaboration of society involving at once an ever fuller differentiation of the component units and an ever closer integration of the group as a whole. Nevertheless, if we put aside questions of value, and look in a scientific spirit at the bare facts of life, we ​have to admit that fitness or ability to survive consists sometimes in a capacity to grovel; though at other times, and doubtless more characteristically for the human race, it consists in a power of rising to the occasion.
In the present case, however, we cannot ignore considerations of value, since the object of our discussion precisely is to weigh two types of savagery the one against the other. Our own moral point of view cannot be treated as irrelevant. On the contrary, we may be sure that if a European philosopher is led to contrast the morality of a warrior of the Five Nations with that of a feeble Wood-Vedda to the advantage of the latter, it is because he seems to see his own peace-loving tendencies reflected in the lamb-like behaviour of that lowly Arcadian. But any analogy that may be perceived between the unmorality of some savage Arcady and the morality of the Gospel is utterly superficial. Let us listen rather to the honest "Naturalist on the Amazons," who, fond as he is of his Brazilian forest-folk, yet dispassionately observes: "With so little mental activity, and with feelings and passions slow of excitement, the life of these people is naturally monotonous and dull, and their virtues are, properly speaking, only negative: but the picture of harmless, homely contentment they exhibit is very pleasing." Mere innocence does not amount to positive merit as we judge it who are the inheritors and sustainers of a culture elaborated in the world's area of central struggle and most typical characterization. As well describe the negative freedom of a wild beast in terms of Shelley's Ode to Liberty as decorate the savage of the mild and furtive type with the inappropriate crown of a Christian saint. Let these poor by-products of human evolution continue to exist and vegetate by all means. Yet we must set a value on their survival, not for any purposes of moral edification, but simply for the purposes of an all-embracing science—as well as for pity's sake.
​Let us consider in turn the predatory savage. No doubt much has been urged, not unjustly, in his disparagement. But we must remember that the criticism comes from without, namely, from those to whom the fighting tribe necessarily displays its unamiable side. The European who approaches in the guise of a stranger, and mostly, let us add, in the guise of an armed stranger, is apt to meet with a rough reception at the hands of just that group of wild folk whose morale and military spirit are highest; and in such a case uncharitable epithets are likely to be forthcoming by way of response.
Cet animal est très méchant— Quand on l'attaque, il se défend.
A more impartial estimate of the morality of savages of the fierce type must needs make full allowance for the fact that, amongst themselves, they manifest much forbearance and goodwill. The worst charge that can be brought against them relates to what a German author calls the "dualism" of their ethics—in other words, their acquiescence in the two-edged doctrine which Sir Edward Tylor formulates thus: "Thou shalt love thy neighbour, and hate thine enemy."
Postponing for a moment the investigation of their limitations on the side of strict ethics, let us first pay heed to their achievements in the way of worldly success. It is a commonplace of anthropology that at a certain stage of evolution—the half-way stage, so to speak—war is a prime civilizing agency; in fact, that, as Bagehot puts it, "Civilization begins, because the beginning of civilization is a military advantage." The reason is not far to seek. "The compact tribes win," says Bagehot. Or, as Spencer ​more elaborately explains, "From the very beginning, the conquest of one people over another has been, in the main, the conquest of the social man over the anti-social man."... "Where there neither is, nor has been, any war, there is no government." Strong government, says Sir Edward Tylor, speaking to the same effect, sets up "the warrior-tyrant to do work too harsh and heavy for the feebler hands of the patriarch." Nothing short, it would seem, of a military despotism can infuse into a tribe that is just emerging from that precarious and ineffectual condition known as the state of nature a spirit of "intense legality," a stringent respect for the rights of others and notably for the rights of property; apart from which chastened frame of mind it is impossible to pass out of the savage tribe into the civilized nation. To sum up in Bagehot's words, "It is a rule of the first times that you can infer merit from conquest, and that progress is promoted by the competitive examination of constant war."
Now someone may object that such an anthropological justification of war, which is by this time a very old story, represents little more than an application, crude, wholesale, and a priori, of the Darwinian hypothesis to the facts of politics; though, to be sure, such an objection is usually raised only when an extension of the argument to our own politics is thought to be implied. If, however, the generalization be taken as referring solely to savages of the predatory type, there is certainly no lack of empirical proofs whereby it might be confirmed. Since it is out of the question to survey the evidence here, let a single illustrative case be cited as being perhaps sufficiently crucial for our purpose. Mr. M'Dougall, who enjoys the two-fold advantage of being a trained thinker and a ​hand observer of savage life, divides those tribes which in conjunction with Dr. Charles Hose he studied in Borneo into three groups—peaceful coast-dwellers, extremely warlike peoples dwelling far up the rivers, and moderately bellicose folk who are situated half-way and fulfil the thankless function of a buffer. "It might be supposed," he writes, "that the peaceful coastwise people would be found to be superior in moral qualities to their more war-like neighbours; but the contrary is the case. In almost all respects the advantage lies with the warlike tribes. Their houses are better built, larger and cleaner; their domestic morality is superior; they are physically stronger, are braver, and physically and mentally more active, and in general are more trustworthy. But, above all, their social organization is firmer and more efficient, because their respect for and obedience to their chiefs, and their loyalty to their community, are much greater; each man identifies himself with the whole community and accepts and loyally performs the social duties laid upon him. And the moderately warlike tribes occupying the intermediate regions stand midway between them and the people of the coast as regards these moral qualities."
Now when an eminent psychologist speaks of moral qualities, we may be sure that he has duly weighed his words; even if it would appear that, according to Mr. M'Dougall, to build a large house and keep it clean ranks among the cardinal virtues. We may take it from him, then, that the head-hunter of Borneo is essentially a gentleman in the making. We, at least, who are the lineal descendants of some of the most terrible fighting races that the world has ever known cannot afford to harbour any other conclusion.
Yet the head-hunting mood has its ethical drawbacks. ​So much will be admitted by most civilized persons. What, then, are these drawbacks? We have already had occasion to note the so-called "dualism" of primitive morals. As Spencer phrases it, the "ethics of enmity" and the "ethics of amity" must coexist in the breast of the predatory savage as best they can. Now if the lion and the lamb are to flourish side by side, it is necessary to separate them by a wall of brass. Unfortunately, or, rather, fortunately, the human soul is a "unity in difierence," which as such cannot endure any absolute separation of its activities by brazen barriers or otherwise. The slightest acquaintance with the psychology of the predatory savage will convince us that, in his case, the lion tends to encroach on the lamb—with the usual result.
To put the matter less picturesquely, the predatory life as pursued by the savage imposes a decided check on the development of his sympathies. All this has been so well explained by Bagehot that it will be enough here to repeat his main contention. "War," he says, speaking more particularly of primitive war as waged at the "nation-making" stage of society, "both needs and generates certain virtues; not the highest, but what may be called the preliminary virtues, as valour, veracity, the spirit of obedience, the habit of discipline . . ." "Humanity, charity, a nice sense of the rights of others, it certainly does not foster." In short, the best that can be said for primitive war is that it provides the cure for that most deep-seated of savage failings, namely, the sleepy, listless apathy to which the innocuous kind of wild man, the "blameless Ethiopian," is so notoriously addicted. For these negative and passive virtues, if such a name can be given to them at all, the predatory life substitutes certain positive and active virtues—the "manly" virtues, as even the civilized man is wont by preference to regard them. In a similar vein old Charlevoix writes of ​his American Indians: "Dans ce Pays tous les Hommes se croyent également Hommes, et dans l'Homme ce qu'ils estiment le plus, c'est l'Homme."
Now this manliness of the Indian carries with it a certain sense of chivalry. The savage is, as it is the British fashion to put it, a thorough "sportsman" in his way. Thus Prince Maximilian zu Wied-Neuwied relates how a war party of Cheyennes mounted on horseback fell in with some Mandans who happened to be on foot. At once the former dismount, in order that the chances of battle may be equal. Nor was this an isolated act of knightly generosity, to judge from the following spirited account of a duel between a Cheyenne warrior and the Mandan Mah-to-toh-pa: "The two full-plumed chiefs, at full speed, drove furiously upon each other, both firing their guns at the same moment. They passed each other a little distance, and then wheeled, when Mah-to-toh-pa drew off his powder-horn, and by holding it up showed his adversary that the bullet had shattered it to pieces and destroyed his ammunition. He then threw it from him, and his gun also, drew his bow from his quiver and an arrow, and his shield upon his left arm. The Shienne instantly did the same. His horn was thrown off, and his gun was thrown into the air, his shield was balanced on his arm, his bow drawn; and quick as lightning they were both on the wing for a deadly combat." And yet when the Indian brave has the fury of fighting upon him, he cannot be said to be altogether nice in his ways. Thus Prince Maximilian, who witnessed a battle royal between Blackfeet and Assiniboin, testifies with reference to the latter: "The enemy, with guns, arrows, spears, and knives, ​killed and wounded men, women, and children indiscriminately, and scalped even the women." Or, again, the Cheyenne fire-eater, for all his gallantry towards a foeman worthy of his steel, would display among his trophies a bagful of the right hands of infants gathered among his deadly enemies, the Shoshoni. Possibly he attributed some talismanic or "medicinal" potency to his prize; but we shall hardly err in supposing that incontinent vainglory and an utter insensibility to human suffering and to the claims of the weak were among the primary conditions of the horrid custom. There is no need to enlarge on other manifestations of the ferocity of these savage Paladins, such as notably the torturing of their prisoners. And yet the evil passions provoked by war may be curiously specialized, the discharge of purely spiteful feeling being confined to certain traditional channels; so that, for instance, that last indignity that can be offered to the weakness of woman, the outrage of rape, was utterly unknown amongst these warrior stocks. Take him all in all, however, the Indian brave affords a standing instance of a manly man and yet a man emotionally starved and arrested. No civilized person, who has tasted of the richer moral experience which ripens under conditions of enduring and widespread peace, would be willing to purchase military capacity at the price of becoming in heart and soul a typical Iroquois, or even, let us say, a typical Roman. Civilization must move, not backwards, but forwards. The problem of the modern world in respect to the development of character is, shortly, this: how to acquire hardihood without hardness.
Now that wars may one day cease upon earth is a pious aspiration, to gainsay which may be churlish. It is, at any ​rate, certain that the science of man is not in a position to oppose a downright "No" to such a possibility. On the other hand, just because it seeks to envisage the entire evolutionary history of man, anthropology is chary of doctrines that are based wholly or mainly on the study of recent phases of Western civilization—whether it be yesterday's phase of industrialism or to-day's phase of militancy. Thus it is apt to engender in the minds of its votaries the impression that we are closer in type to our forefathers than we care to think; and that racial evolution, like geological change, is a process so majestically slow as to evade the direct notice of the passing generations. Moreover, his natural bias apart, the anthropologist can point to three considerations at least that would seem to justify a belief in the likelihood of a warlike future for man, the heir of the ages.
The first of these considerations relates to the well-worn topic of the "wandering of peoples." The earth is occupied by man on a system of leasehold tenures. Whenever rents are revised, there is apt to be a flitting. If the racial gift of mobility takes the form of a moving-off in response to another's moving-on, the devil rarely forgets to claim the hindmost as his due. The delectable portions of the globe's surface are not so many that one may inhabit any of them on sufferance. Adverse possession, as the jurists say, provides the only charter that the rest of the world respects. Such possession may be ripened by the prescription of a hundred or a thousand years of undisputed ownership; but if once the ripeness turn to rottenness, if the watchman at the gate grow fat and sleepy, then the freebooters will flock together to their prey as surely as crows to a carcase. All this is written plain to read on every page of human history, perhaps even on the last.
The next consideration touches the subject of war itself, regarded as a specialized pursuit or industry which has a history of its own. It is a time-honoured view, and ​doubtless one still current, that savagery is a bellum omnium contra omnes; that it forms the militaristic pole of the social universe, whereas civilization with its industrialism represents the opposite pole of peace. Major Powell, one of the pioneers of American anthropology, has done his best to explode this popular fallacy. "Warfare," he contends, "has had its course of evolution, as have all other human activities. That human progress has been from militancy to industrialism is an error so great that it must necessarily vitiate any system of sociology or theory of culture of which it forms a part." ... "The savage tribes of mankind carried on petty warfare with clubs, spears, and bows and arrows. But these wars interrupted their peaceful pursuits only at comparatively long intervals. The wars of barbaric tribes were on a larger scale and more destructive of life; but there were no great wars until wealth was accumulated and men were organized into nations. The great wars began with civilization." Savage war, after all, is, in some aspects at all events, a genial occupation; it is perhaps comparable to pig-sticking as a sport. But civilized war resembles a pig-killing by machinery after the manner of Chicago; it is a matter of sordid business without redeeming glamour of any kind. If the age of stone slew its thousands in a year, the age of steel slays its tens of thousands in a day. But an art does not usually become obsolete at the moment of its highest elaboration and efficiency.
The third and last consideration has a psychological and even biological bearing. Why do such writers as Spencer and Bagehot, though fully recognizing the salutary part played by war in the making of civilized man, go on to assume that henceforth the struggle for existence will be ​radically transformed; since "industrialism," or "the age of discussion," or what not, will somehow persuade the lion and the lamb to sit down together to a peaceful if ruinous game of beggar-my-neighbour? The error—for it is an error of a fundamental kind in the eyes of the modern Darwinian—consists in thinking that, if one generation can gain a respite from war and develop peaceful habits, the next generation must tend to inherit by sheer force of biological descent a positive distaste for warlike avocations. As if the whelps of the tamed fox would not run after chickens. Though one expel nature with a pitchfork in the parent's case, it reappears in the youngsters. Now the peoples of Western Europe "have been moulded by a prolonged and severe process of military selection." There is war in the very blood of us; and it would task the powers of all the professors of eugenics to eradicate the strain. The only hope for peace, therefore, would seem to be offered by a purely social method of self-improvement; namely, by a system of moral education, renewed and reinforced from generation to generation, that should endeavour to harmonize our warlike and peaceful propensities—for, of course, we have our fair share of both—by organizing the life of each and all on a rational instead of a merely animal, and impulsive basis.
What, then, would be the lesson laid down by a rational theory of peace and war? At this point the argument passes beyond the frontiers of our special province. Such a problem belongs, not to anthropology, but to ethics; seeing that it has regard, not to matter of fact, but to policy. Even so, however, though he cannot be judge, the anthropologist may aspire to serve amongst the expert witnesses.
​For example, he is bound to have paid special attention to the sort of savagery that is displayed by the ruder peoples during war. He might well be asked, therefore, by the judge of the high court of ethics whether in the long run such savagery appears to pay—whether he would recommend it to future ages as something that might in some fashion be rationalized, and so might be brought within the scope of some sound scheme of what we may call "civilized dominancy." Without venturing further afield, then, let us by way of conclusion shortly inquire how an anthropological witness would be likely to reply to this question.
The judge, we may suppose, might think fit to inform the witness that the court was anxious to retain in use the old-fashioned "manly" virtues in so far as they did not unduly hamper the development of humanitarian feeling; and that, in particular, it desired to find a place among these for the virtue described by Bishop Butler under the name of "righteous indignation," namely, the trained capacity to react forcibly and repressively upon all unfair aggression and all gross violation of the rights of others. Would the witness be kind enough to say whether those special characteristics of the manlier variety of wild folk which have given the word "savagery" its unfavourable sense, namely, their bloodthirstiness and indiscriminate cruelty, contain, or do not contain, the germ and promise of that stern yet disciplined mood in which the best of civilized men may be expected to fight against injustice and oppression?
The answer of the anthropologist would, surely, be that the savagery of the primitive warrior is the accident, not the essence, of his fighting quality. His is a "hair-trigger organization" of soul, deficient in those controls which turn the passions into servants of the will. Consequently, he is apt to "see red," and play the mad dog, not because his purposes are thereby consciously advanced, but simply ​because, being constitutionally prone to hysteria, he readily gets beyond himself and relapses into the brute. For the rest, his social tradition, as must happen in any type of community that stifles individuality, is most binding just where it is most mobbish in its appeal, and by consecrating the extravagances of contagious excitement turns the scalp-hunter into a scalp-dancer, the raving butcher into a still more raving devotee.
Contrariwise, it would seem that righteous indignation involves the sort of anger which is not hot but cold. When controlled by the higher system represented by all the principles for which the word "righteousness" stands, the anger of the strong brain which sets the strong arm in motion is like "the still water that runneth deep." As Mr. Shand demonstrates in a recent work, "It is neither excited, nor explosive, nor violent. It has lost the primitive character of the emotion; and those bodily changes which physiologists attribute to it are hardly appreciable. If it has no longer the same strength in one sense, in another it has a greater. In immediate physical energy it is weaker; in power of persistence immeasurably stronger. In place of thoughtless impulse, and crude primitive methods of offence, it has the thoughtfulness, self-control, and adaptability of the sentiment."
This developed sentiment, which offers so marked a contrast to that primitive violence of warlike feeling whereof acts of brutal savagery are the by-product, is an "anger organized in love"; namely, a righteous indignation, formidably cool and judicial, which is rooted in the love of freedom, of social and political justice, of the spiritual blessings of civilization, and finally, of mankind at large, not forgetting even the misguided enemy himself.
R. R. Marett.
* ↑ Sir E. im Thurn, Presidential Address to Section H of Brit. Assoc., Sydney, 1914, 1.
* ↑ F. von Luschan in Papers on Inter-Racial Problems, ed. G. Spiller, 22.
* ↑ Lucretius, De Rerum Natura, v. 969.
* ↑ Pliny, Philemon Holland's Trans., London, 1635, VI. xxx.
* ↑ H. Drummond, Tropical Africa, 55.
* ↑ H. T. Buckle, History of Civilization in England {%S7), 138.
* ↑ Gibbon, Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, xxxviii., ap. Sir E. B. Tylor, Primitive Culture,$^4$ i. 35.
* ↑ P. Kolben, The Present State of the Cape of Good Hope, i. 334, ap. Sir J. Lubbock (Lord Avebury), Prehistoric Times, 342, who shares his admiration.
* ↑ A. R. Colquhoun, Among the Shans, 234.
* ↑ See the multitude of examples collected by H. Spencer in Principles of Sociology, ii. Part 2, 234 ff.; or consult the anonymous monograph, Der Volkergedanke ivi Aufban einer Wissenschaft vom Menschen, Berlin, 1881, esp. 24, 46, and notes.
* ↑ Halliwell's edition, London, 1837, 291.
* ↑ Lucretius, v. 857.
* ↑ Ecclesiastes, ix. 11.
* ↑ Cf. G. Lloyd Morgan, Animal Life and Intelligence, 241.
* ↑ H. W. Bates, The Naturalist on the River Amazons, 277.
* ↑ M. Kulischer, Der Dualismis der Ethik hei den primitiven Völkern, in Zeitschrift für Ethnologie, 1885, vi.
* ↑ Sir E. B. Tylor, Contemporary Review, xxi. 718.
* ↑ W. Bagehot, Physics and Politics, 52.
* ↑ Bagehot, op. cit. ib.
* ↑ H. Spencer, Social Statics, 455.
* ↑ H. Spencer, Principles of Ethics, Pt. iv. 202.
* ↑ Sir E. B. Tylor, Contemporary Review, xxii. 69.
* ↑ Bagehot, op. cit. 64.
* ↑ Bagehot, op. cit. 82.
* ↑ W. M'Dougall, An Introduction to Social Psychology, 289.
* ↑ M'Dougall, op. cit. 290; cf. B. Kidd, Principles of Western Civilization, 156.
* ↑ H. Spencer, Principles of Ethics, i, 316.
* ↑ Bagehot, op. cit. 74.
* ↑ Bagehot, op. cit. 78.
* ↑ P. F. X. de Charlevoix, Histoire et Description Générale de la Nouvelle France (1744), iii. 342.
* ↑ Maximilian Prinz zu Wied-Neuwied, Travels in the Interior of North America, i. 153.
* ↑ G. Catlin, Letters and Notes on the Manners, Customs, and Condition of the North American Indians, i. 153.
* ↑ Prinz Maximilian, op. cit. 257.
* ↑ J. G. Bourke, The Medicine Men of the Apache, in Smithsonian Institution, Ann. Rep. Bur. Ethn. ix. 481 ff.
* ↑ Cf. Catlin, op. cit. ii. 240, or H. R. Schoolcraft, Historical and Statistical Information respecting the Indian Tribes of the United States, iii. 188.
* ↑ J. W. Powell, From Barbarism to Civilization, in American Anthropologist, i. 103; cf. what the same author says about the comparatively peaceful life of the North American Indians in pre-Columbian times, Smithsonian Institution, Ann. Rep. Bur. Ethn. vii. 39.
* ↑ Cf. M'Dougall, op. cit. 284.
* ↑ Cf. M'Dougall, op. cit. 294.
* ↑ Another expert witness would be the psychologist; thus, for psychological expedients whereby the force of the pugnacious impulse may be turned to peaceful uses, see M'Dougall, op. cit 293; or W. James, The Moral Equivalent of War, International Conciliation Pamphlets, No. 27 (reprinted in Memories and Studies as Paper XI.; cf. Papers III. and XII. in same volume).
* ↑ Cf. W. James, Principles of Psychology, ii. 538.
* ↑ A. F. Shand, The Foundations of Character, 246.
* ↑ Shand, op. cit. 245.