PRIMITIVE EDUCATION IN NORTH AMERICA BY GEORGE A. PETTITT UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA PUBLICATIONS IN JAMERICAN ARCHAEOLOGY AND ETHNOLOGY Volume 43, No. 1, pp. iv + 1-182 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA PRESS BERKELEY AND LOS ANGELES 1946 PRIMITIVE EDUCATION IN NORTH AMERICA BY GEORGE A. PETTITT UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA PRESS BERKELEY AND LOS ANGELES 1946 UNIER ryS O CALIFORNIA PUBLICATIONS IN AMERCAN ARCHAEOLOGY AND ETHNOLOGY EDITORS (BE&KLY): A. L. KnoxBEx, R. EI. LowIn, R. L. OLSON Volume 43, No. 1, pp. iv + 1-182 Submitted by editors September 3, 1943 Issued June 1, 1946 Paper, $2.25; cloth, $3.50 UNIVERSIY O1 CALIFORNIA PRS BERKELEY AN) Los ANGELEs CALIFORA CAMBRIDGE UNIVERSrIY PREss LONDON, ENGLAND PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF ASMEIOA CONTENTS SECTION PAGE I. INTRODUCTION ................................ 1 II. DISCIPLINE .......... ............ ............................. 6 III. THE ROLE OF THE MOTHER'S BROTHER .................................. 15 The Avunculate .................................. 17 Mother's Brother as Disciplinarian and Teacher .............................. 18 IV. DISCIPLINE REFERBED TO THE SUPERNATURAL.................................... 25 The Use of Masks for Disciplinary Purposes ................................. 28 V. IMITATION VERSUS STIMULATED LEARNING ....................................... 40 Praise as an Incentive .................................................... 47 Ridicule as a Deterrent and as an Incentive .................................. 50 The Privileges of Maturity ................................................ 53 VI. THE EDUCATIONAL FUNCTION OF PERSONAL NAMES ............................... 59 The Role of Personal Names in Ridicule Stimulus ............................. 60 Personal Names as Prestige Rewards ....................................... 62 Use of Names in Personality Transference ................................... 65 VII. THE SIGNIFICANCE OF FIRST-FOOD RITES ....................................... 75 VIII. THE VISION QUEST AND THE GUARDIAN SPIRIT ................................... 87 The Nature of the Vision .............................................. 94 IX. THE TRAINING OF ExTRAMUNDANE INTw cEssoRs ................................ 105 The Nature of Extramundane Intercessors ................................... 105 Training for the Priesthood .............................................. 107 The Training of the Shaman .............................................. 118 X. THE STORYTELLING ART ............................................. 151 XI. GENNERAL CONSIDEaATioNS ............................................. 161 BIBLIOGRAPHY ............................................. 165 IDEX ............................................. 179 PRIMITIVE EDUCATION IN NORTH AMERICA BY GEORGE A. PETTITT I. INTRODUCTION CIVILIZATION is, of course, a gold mine of paradoxes; but none of them is more curious than the success and purported failure of America's magnificent experi- ment in mass education. The success of the public school system would seem to be obvious. Except for slight reverses occasioned by economic depressions and regres- sions, the number of public schools and of subjects included in the curricula, the percentage of each age group attending the schools, and the duration of the average individual's period of schooling have all steadily increased. The public has ex- pressed its satisfaction with the schools and their product by voting more and more stringent, compulsory attendance laws, by urging young people to stay in the schools far beyond the compulsory age limit, and by cheerfully spending large sums of money on public education. In spite of these evidences of success, there has been an ever more vociferous com- plaint from leading educators and observant laymen that the public schools have failed in their basic responsibility; that they have filled the minds of youth with disparate and fragmentary bodies of knowledge intended to supplement living, without teaching them how to live either as individuals or as members of a demo- cratically inclined society. Criticism of the school system, of the content of cur- ricula, and of teaching methods is not, of course, a new thing. Whether the first critic arose before or after the first public school and the first teacher, is a moot question. But the voice crying in the wilderness did not become an a capella choir until the depression struck and well-schooled young men and women failed to find jobs or to found families as successfully as had their frequently less literate parents and grandparents in times past. Few people actually claimed that the schools were responsible for unemployment, but there was a widespread feeling that conditions would be better if the schools at least taught some specific trade; and that the depression would have been shortened if the schools had properly equipped their graduates to create jobs and to carry on the tradition of helping their parents. Then came the rise of the dictators and the onslaught of totalitarianism against democratic ideals. The choir swelled to a full symphonic chorus. Regardless of how questionable their goals might be, those nations which put the ambition of the state above the welfare of the individual seemed to be developing a unity of purpose and a fanatical faith in themselves that boded ill for self-criticizing, minority-tolerating, complacent democracies. How was the American school system to meet this chal- lenge? Even educators had to admit they were not sure. The schools appeared to be doing a reasonably good job of imparting the tools of knowledge and a miscel- laneous supply of educational building materials, as well as developing crafts- manship in their use. But whether they were developing an architectural sense, let alone an appreciation for some unique American style of architecture, say Democratic-Renaissance, no one knew. Some implied that the only architectural masterpiece with which the average youth was familiar, and on which he could model the edifices of his life, was the Temple of Mammon. So the Progressive Education Association and numberless other agencies and individuals have openly charged that the schools have matched their material success with an equally striking spiritual failure. They state, specifically, that the [1] 2 University of California Pub ticaticns in Am. Arch. and Ethn. secondary schools have been diverted from their essential task of producing socially conscious, democratically sensitive men and women. The fault, however, is not attributed entirely to the schoolteacher, but in part to the fact that most parents consider a college education the best guarantee of future success for their sons and daughters, and colleges and universities insist that subject proficiency in hetero- geneous but rigidly prescribed fields of knowledge is the sine qua non for college matriculation and graduation. To correct this it is now advocated that the empha- sis on abstract subjects for which the student may find use later be shifted to an emphasis on the student and his practical life problems, with attention to subject knowledge only as development of the student and of his problems makes the need of such knowledge apparent, and acquisition of it more or less self-initiated. In accord with this altered concept of education the traditional demarcations of sub- ject fields is to be broken down, teachers are to be prepared to draw upon several fields as needed, and to build in the mind of the student a functional and integral core of knowledge, oriented toward an intelligent discharge of personal and social responsibilities, and in accord with a philosophy of life set by the ideals of the demo- cratic culture pattern. Inherent in the plan is a desire to establish the culture pattern more firmly; to give American youth something more significant to share and to put faith in than mathematical axioms, English syntax, and the rags-plus- ambition-equals-riches theory. The reality of the evidence that something has been lacking in the education of our citizenry cannot be disputed. Oswald, Spengler found the picture so pessi- mistically inspiring that he wrote his Decline of the West on that subject. Other authors, both earlier and later, have come to similar conclusions. When unem- ployment brought a close to the hectic prosperity of the 'twenties and punctured national complacency, the spiritual strength of the country seemed to collapse. Not only did a large part of the population suddenly reach the conclusion that the manifest destiny of materialism-so long accepted as the beacon of national prog- ress-was probably a mirage; but worse yet, pitifully few revealed any deeper and more lasting philosophy of life by which to navigate. A nation of individualists, depending on their ability to paddle their own canoes, and all intent on the end of a rainbow, was suddenly overtaken by darkness, and caught without a compass. Many of them shouted, "Steer by the stars, follow me !" But there was no unanimity about the port for which a bewildered civilization should head, or about the exact direction in which any desirable haven lay. Hysteria mounted as word was passed around that other nations, traveling in giant barges under a single helmsman, might at any moment run down and scuttle the birchbark flotilla. So the leaders began vowing that if they ever'got out of this confusion they would never be caught in another one. They intended to see that this nation of canoe paddlers was kept together in the future by a few spiritual painters, and that the younger generation should be taught not only such practical arts as paddling and such sciences as astronomy, but also more esoteric subjects, such as cultural geog- raphy and the social responsibiliiy that must balance the privilege of owning a canoe, especially for those who have money enough to hire paddlers or to flit about with an outboard motor at the stern. Within reasonable limits this resolution to build stronger individuals with greater discrimination of social ideals and a united attitude toward cultural goals is supported by academic logic and streetcorner common sense. But it is question- able whether the resolution can be kept if it stems from a conviction that the present situation is solely a result of a faulty school system and that it can be corrected sim- ply by arousing the schools to a broader duty. The schools have traditionally been Pettitt: Primitive Education in North America 3 concerned with imparting book knowledge, supplementing the life activities of the individual with intellectually rather than emotionaliy correlated aids. Not many years ago the mere intimation that schools were assuming the traditional responsi- bilities of the family or the church would have aroused protest. Now, apparently, the schools are being criticized for not having gone far enough in this direction, and they are being urged forward. But the implication that the present situation is a result of a faulty school system seems to rest more on wishful thinking than anything else. It is pertinent to ask whether the growing popularity of schools, the readiness of educators to speak of the schools as "the educational system" as if no education took place elsewhere, and the increasing annual bill paid by the average citizen for school services have not promoted a failure of personality- and character- building education by agencies outside of the school system, and led, particularly, to a sloughing of responsibility by the family and the community. The slogan appears to be: "Get Your Money's Worth out of the Schools." This in itself is not a justifiable cause for anxiety; that is, not if the schools can take over the responsibility and discharge it adequately. The citizen no longer feels it necessary to keep a rifle over the fireplace in lieu of police protection-he knows that it is more convenient to pay for police service. Theoretically, the same might hold for the rearing of children. It might be more efficient to have children's char- acters built by professional character builders. But before this is decided, it would be well to consider the complexity of the process of culture transmission, and to devote serious thought to the intangibles of personality and character which give to a culture its underlying significance. These, among other reasons, explain the preparation of this work on primitive education in North America. It may seem a far cry from primitive education to the pedagogical problems of modern society. But modern pedagogy is not something entirely different from the primitive type. It is more complex, but the added complexities are largely super- impositions taken over by the schools. Cultural ideals have changed, but cultural goals fall into largely the same categories. In short, in primitive society, which had no school system, we find a fairly complete picture of what a people must do to insure the transmittal of its traditions, beliefs, ideals, and aspirations to the younger generation. Through study of such school-free efforts we may obtain a clearer conception of the manifold ramifications of the process of conditioning children and of safeguarding a culture pattern. With such a conception in mind we are then in a better position to judge whether schools and professional teachers, either in justice to themselves or to the public, should be expected to assume the whole responsibility at so much per month. We cannot read deeply in ethnological literature without being struck by the fact that primitive education was a community project in which all reputable elders participated at the instigation of individual families. The result was not merely to focus community attention on the child, but also to make the child's education a constant challenge to the elders to review, analyze, dramatize, and defend their cultural heritage. Their own beliefs, understanding, and faith, their personal integration in the culture, and their collective unity, all were promoted by the necessity of assuming the role of educators of their children. Modern teachers are fond of stressing the chasm between the professional and amateur collector of knowledge with the aphorism that no man can really understand or appreciate a subject until he has tried to teach it. There is, perhaps, a broader truth in and wider application to this conclusion than those who use it have yet stressed.1 It is 1 For example, see John Dewey, Democracy and Education, pp. 5-7, where he points out that he who communicates is learning as well as he to whom the communication is made. "The experi- 4 University of California Pub licatians in Am. Arch. and Ethn. directly pertinent to the problem now facing the American democracy of arousing the enthusiasm and interest of its own citizens ,in the political and social ideals which world events have called into question and threatened to destroy. It puts an exceedingly heavy question mark on shifting the whole responsibility to the schools. In the following pages an effort will be made to give further insight into this problem by outlining the intense and lifelong effort on the part of primitive peoples to maintain their relatively simple cultures. This study of primitive education may bring out this evidence more explicitly than have other general works on the subject because it is made from a new ap- proach. Previous studies have been confined either to single tribes or to tribes scattered throughout the world, from which examples of educational procedure have been chosen because they clearly indicated the teacher-pupil relationship which has come to be accepted today as the essential of education. By contrast, this study analyzes the cultures of all the important tribes within a given geographical area for the purpose of discovering familial and community activities which con- tribute to the conditioning of personalities and the integrating of individuals into the social pattern. The area selected is North America, north of Mexico. Although the subject is far from exhausted here, I feel that sufficient material has been synthesized to offer interesting conclusions for educators and a deeper understanding of culture processes for younger anthropologists. It seems justi- fiable to say that anthropology has missed an important approach to the problems of culture growth and diffusion in not giving greater attention to primitive educa- tion. In civilized societies education has become so highly institutionalized that the need for transmitting culture to the younger generation is no longer reflected in the culture as a whole. As already pointed out, the gradual concentration of re- sponsibility for education in school systems has led to a sloughing of responsibility by other agencies. The problem of fitting children into the culture influences the nature and function of the culture only indirectly, for the schools serve as an inter- mediary. The situation is significantly different on the primitive level; for no single institution exists there to meet the educational need. As a, result all institutions, or at least the great majority of them, have to see to their own perpetuation. The educational role which they play is largely unformulated and even unconscious, and it is for this reason, perhaps, that its importance has been overlooked. An effort will be made in this synthesis to indicate not only how various primitive institutions have discharged their educational responsibilities, but also how this accessory function has influenced the character and, not improbably, stimulated the development of the institutions concerned. It may be accepted as a truism that every culture, regardless of its simplicity, must successfully condition its future carriers if it is to maintain itself. In other words, this is a common problem which all cultures must meet as an essential to continued existence. We may say that recognition of this universal social necessity is of no more significance than recognition of the fact that all human beings are genetically related and psychically similar; because it accounts for similarities between cultures without explaining their equally striking differences. However, recognition of a universal educative compulsion does aid in the further elucidation ence has to be formulated in order to be communicated. To formulate requires getting outside of it, seeing it as another would see it, considering what points of contact it has with the life of another so that it may be got into such form that he can appreciate its meaning. Except in dealing with commonplaces and catch phrases one has to assimilate, imaginatively, something of another's experience in order to tell him intelligently of one's own experience.... It may fairly be said, therefore, that any social arrangement that remains vitally social, or vitally shared, is educative to those who participate in it. Only when it becomes cast in a mold and runs in a routine way does it lose its educative power." Pettitt: Primitive Education in North America 5 of culture-growth processes. Most students are willing to admit that the universal need for the continued nurture of children has had an important if not a dominant role in the development of the institution of marriage and family. The point made here is that educational aspects of the process of nurturing involve other institu- tions than marriage and family, and evidence will be cited to indicate that these other institutions have been influenced by the same problem. If psychic unity has any influence on culture development, that influence should be most apparent in relation to the outstanding exponents of unity, the newborn infant and the young child. Cultures may differ widely, but all must approach each other most closely in education, for the simple reason that they cannot develop a peculiar kind of infant to fit their needs. They must take what nature gives them- an infant who is more like all other infants in the world, psychologically speaking, than like the older individuals of his tribe. Consequently, the provisions for the transmission of culture must be more nearly alike than the cultures themselves need be. In primitive societies, where the ratio of children to adults is relatively high, and where no special institution has been devised to assume the burden of transmitting the culture, transmissibility becomes a factor in practically all insti- tutions, and gives them a similarity for which it is otherwise difficult to account, even with the help of the most elaborate theory of borrowing between cultures. Still further, the geographically sporadic and chronologically intermittent occurrence of important events in the early history of civilization led to serious doubt that man is by nature a progressive animal. Entirely aside from the skeptics who ask: "Does civilization represent progress ?" there are many students of anthro- pology and sociology who admit that the human mind, protected from distracting environmental changes, seems to exhaust its ingenuity in mastering and then maintaining the cultural status quo. The theory has been advanced that periods of striking cultural change or growth result not from spontaneous intellectual combustion within an isolated society, but from the incendiary sparks created by friction between different cultures. Human beings seem to make sudden changes in their ideals of what is right or good or best only when forced or stimulated to do so by conflict or contact with other human beings observing a different code of behavior, scale of values, or system of living, and not always then. However, some internally sponsored process of cul- ture change must be admitted, regardless of how slow or halting; else there would never have developed the divergences between primitive cultures which led to conflict or stimulation in subsequent contacts. It may be, perhaps, that these de- velopments of culture during periods of isolation tended to be elaborations of old ideas rather than the invention of new ones; and that they, too, were stimulated by changes in physical environment, by conflict between individuals and groups within the society, or by human inability to reproduce and assimilate a cultural pattern correct in every detail, even when sincerely trying to do so. In any event, these spontaneous divergences seem to lay the foundation for the culture contact theory of culture change or progress. And here again, the problems of primitive pedagogy have significance. In primitive society the stimulus to elaboration of a culture, to dramatization of it in the minds of all elders, and to strengthening of its historical and logical plausibility comes more certainly from the children, who enter the social group as total strangers, than from any other source. In modern society, perhaps, much of this stimulus is being absorbed by the school system rather than by the culture as a whole. Perhaps this, too, is progress. Or, it may be just another divergence which will lay the foundation for conflict between world cul- tures and form a new chapter in the history of civilization. 6 University of California Pub lications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. II. DISCIPLINE PROBABLY NO TRAIT of primitive society, particularly in North America, has been more generally commented upon by observers than that of parental indulgence of children. Mildness versus strictness in disciplinary procedure has struck many writers as one criterion of primitiveness. Steinmetz, one of the early writers on primitive family relationships and education, built up an evolutionary scale of culture development on the basis of this criterion.' More recently, Lowie states, conservatively: "There is almost a direct ratio between rudeness of culture and gentleness with children."' The question of discipline is, of course, fundamental to any inquiry into educa- tional practices, whether we consider primitive indulgence a pedagogical virtue or follow Hambly,8 in classing it as one of the weaknesses primitives shared with Froebel and Pestalozzi. The large mass of evidence on disciplinary practices within our extensive area confirms the reality of the contrast between primitive treatment of children and that in more complex civilizations prior to the advent of child psychology as an additional complexity. But, more significantly, here, as elsewhere in anthropology, acceptance of a generality has tended to obscure the existence of contrary occurrences which, even if regarded as exceptional, nevertheless are im- portant for a clear understanding of pirimitive education. Li An-che has called attention to this point in regard to the Zuii.' Examples of corporal punishment for recalcitrant children may be cited not only from the more highly developed cultures of North America but also from the simpler cultures of California, the Great Basin, the Plateau, and even Eskimo territory, which Wissler says ranks with Tierra del Fuego as an area where parental indulgence achieves its most marked development.5 Turney-High reports that the Flathead had no scruples about spanking children, providing they were not too young. Among the Sanpoil, minor infractions of the rules of behavior were punished by whipping not only the offender but all children in the camp.7 The Shoshone thrashed children more than two or three years old for soiling themselves or for other reasons,8 and the Hopi slapped youngsters as part of the process of housebreaking. If a Yuba River Maidu boy approached a girl during her puberty confinement, a stick was broken over his penis (it is not stated whether by blow or pressure) o In the Northwest Coast area and marginal regions children who failed to observe puberty taboo or demurred at vision quests were showered with hot coals or whipped, sometimes with a digging stick, a formidable implement. References to this are found in field studies of Puget Sound tribes," the Lummi" and the Klallam.' Eskimo aversion to striking children, which amounts I "Die erste enthielt die Faille der absoluten Verwohnung ohne jedwede Erziehung; die zweite die der beginnenden Erziehung ohne oder fast ohne Ziichtigung; die dritte die der harten Behandlung und strengen Erziehung." Steinmetz, 1898, p. 609. 'Lowie, 1929, p. 167. 8 Hambly, chap. 6. "'Another case of oversimplified interpretation of Zufni is in connection with child behavior. The universal idea of the students of the area is that the child is not chastised at all and behaves well automatically. This sounds strange to those who have had much experience with children in any other culture, but it is more or less accepted by all on the authority of universal agreement." Li An-che, p. 69. 5Wissler, 1922a, p. 188. Turney-High, p. 75. 7 Ray, 1932, p. 131. This practice occurs elsewhere; see Dennis, p. 45. 8 Shimkin, MS. 9 Ernest and Pearl Beaglehole, p. 40. 10 Loeb, 1933, p. 182. n Haeberlin and Gunther, 1930, p. 68. " Stern, p. 18. 18 Gunther, 1927, p. 289. Pettitt: Primitive Ed-acation in North America 7 practically to a taboo, holds in its rigid form only for young children. At the age of eleven to twelve they may be dealt long withheld and sometimes obviously needed blows on the side of the head.1' Other examples of corporal punishment, particularly from areas of more complex culture where they are relatively numerous, could be cited. However, the exceptions are not sufficiently numerous to weaken the generalizations cited. We may conclude that the cause of primitive indulgence of children is not, as some writers appear to indicate, an inherent psychic difference, or even a universal trait derived from propinquity to a poetically benign Nature, but rather is a conditioned social reflex deriving from many other beliefs and practices making up the culture. Ploss points out that indulgence of children by primitives is comparable to the indulgence of baby apes by their elders and concludes that this occurs because the cultures of both were crude and they did not know any better.'5 It is probably more correct to describe this indulgence as inhibited behavior, and this theory will be developed in the pages to follow. The sentimental attachment of mothers and fathers to their children in primitive societies does not seem to flow from a special Providence so much as from ordinary reciprocity, and depends far more on the economic situation prevailing at birth, the sex of the child, and the child's physical perfection and general disposition than does sentimental attachment in our own culture. Mother love is sometimes cited as instinctive, but abortion and infanticide were quite common among the primitives of North America, not always for economic reasons, but in some instances for reasons of comfort or even spite, with or without the consent of the father. Hrdl76ka found antipathy toward the responsibilities of motherhood one of the major reasons for abortion in many Southwestern tribes.'6 Krzywicki finds that there is often antagonism between the men and women of the tribe on the subject of childbearing.'7 It is undoubtedly true that, although both parents gained social status through children, prestige came to the father in greater measure as well as with less pain and trouble than it did to the mother. Women, on occasion, did not hesitate to post- pone the prestige of childbearing for the more immediate purpose of venting their spleen against the father and letting him know that greater consideration was a price to be paid if he wished the glory of progeny.'8 It seems most probable that the long suckling period generally observed by primitive mothers, plus the frequently occurring taboo on or aversion to sexual intercourse during the lactation period, can be traced in part at least to feminine opposition to more than a minimum of pro- creation. Only one direct statement appears in references here cited that the length of the suckling period was not used as an excuse to postpone subsequent concep- tions; this was among the Apache, where abortions for reasons of personal comfort were quite common and socially accepted.' Evidence does not point to any abnormal abstract fondness for children among primitives; but neither does it add much confirmation to the frequent statement that ulterior economic motives were paramount in stimulating conception. The major motive aside from satisfaction of sexual desires was social standing. No married person without children was looked upon as completely adult. Children were the normal expectation of maturity. Possession of children was another evi- dence of complete participation in the functioning of the social group, which gave 14 Stefansson, 1913, p. 399. X Ploss, p. 332. XHrdlifka, p. 163. 1 Krzywicki, pp. 159-160. IsReferences to spite disposal of children will be found in Sproat, p. 94, the Ahts; Curtis, 1907-1930, 18:76, the Cree; Denig, p. 321, the Assiniboine; Swanton, 1924, p. 345, the Creeks. '5Hrdlieka, p. 77. 8 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. recognition to this, as to almost every socially desirable action, by prestige and practical rewards of many kinds. Little if any prestige attached to great numbers of children, so far as a mother was concerned. A reasonable number of good children was preferable. From the father's point of view, however, an increase in the number of good children might bring commensurately greater prestige rewards. Economic evaluation of children arose later in life. It is more important in the thinking of the elders than it is in the thinking of young people still at the height of procreative and economic powers. A Fox Indian woman, telling her life story, says it was not until she married her third husband that she began to think seriously of a child already born and of others that might be born, in relation to her own old age.' The dominant motives for childbearing, and the considerations which made bar- renness or sterility a tragedy, were social in character. Oto mothers and fathers maintained their position of respect through their children, and the mother, par- ticularly, was more highly regarded if she had one well-thought-of son than if she had several less worthy.' Among the Cheyenne, a family gained social rank by pro- ducing worthy sons and daughters, but also by not producing too many and by exer- cising self-control in spacing them two years apart.2 Among the Crow, a wife who has borne children is privileged to share in the public honors accorded her warrior husband.' Among the Sauk and Fox, a man is not really the master of his own household until after the birth of a child.' An Osage woman is esteemed in pro- portion to the number of children she has borne without producing a coward or useless individual.' These and additional social-attitude traits are recorded for tribes in other areas. New names for those entering upon parenthood are common. Women are privileged to wear their hair in a special way when they have borne a child. It is an insult to call a woman "barren." Childless individuals are subject to ridicule and spoken of slightingly as probably homosexuals. There is little in any of these references to explain lax discipline. Rather, stress is put upon the family responsibility to see that a child turns out well. The child growing up undisciplined in character is no asset to his parents. We must look further for the cause of child indulgence; in short, we must examine other phases of primitive culture. 1. It seems obvious that the chief inhibition to corporal punishment as a disci- plinary measure derives from the fact that pain per se cannot be used as a fear- producing, coercive force in a social milieu which places a premium upon ability to stand pain and suffering without flinching. The Thompson Indians of the Plateau subjected their children to public whippings, but it is apparent that the whipping was a coercive instrument only for those who were not actually whipped. When the whipper appeared, those who were very young and who hid in terror were magnanimously protected by the women. Only those who were old enough to accept the whipping as a means of demonstrating their stamina were actually thrashed. A boy who could stand the lash until his backE was covered with blood won prestige and honor.' Among the Blackfoot, whipping was a winter game in which boys sought to wear out the whipper or the whip. Each tried to outdo his fellows in fortitude, and whips that had been worn down to the handle were preserved as trophies by the youngsters on whose backs they had been demolished.' 20 Michelson, 1918, p. 333. " Whitman, p. 63. 2 Grinnell, 1923, 1:129, 149. 2' Linderman, 1932, p. 131. " Blair, 2:212. 25Hunter, p. 242. aB Teit, 1900, pp. 309-310. 2'Buffalo Child, pp. 7-8. Pettitt: Primitive Education in North America 9 2. Underlying aJmost all punishment there is the idea that it is given for the good of the individual, but also that it, or the authority for it, comes from outside the group directly involved. The immediate family, close friends, the clan, and even the whole tribe seem to desire to leave the victim firm in the conviction that he is being protected and that consequences occur in spite of their efforts rather than with their connivance. When Virginia Indian boys ran the gauntlet they were accompanied by friendly guardians who sought to take the heaviest blows upon their own backs.' Among the Pueblo, as many commentators have noted, the chief or some official objects to whipping at first and then insists on being whipped him- self before he will consent to seeing any of his tribal children whipped even at ceremonial initiations. This psychology seems to pervade all disciplinary procedure. The desire to main- tain family unity and social solidarity is another factor which tends to inhibit punishment, or discipline. A Sioux chief states that parents were very kind to their children because they wanted to develop a reciprocal love in the hearts of their sons and daughters.' A Cocopa informant says children were not whipped because they would not like their parents.8' Parsons' has noted the fact that opposition to the ordeal of initiation by a boy's parents is widespread in primitive society. She at- tributes it to disinclination on the part of parents to having their status changed, and titles it "holding back in crisis ceremonialism." It also seems to be an expres- sion of the even more widespread tendency to maintain family morale and strength. Oglala parents refer their disciplinary activities to an outside authority by having a noted warrior pierce their boy's ears and in the boy's presence warn the parents of the dangers of being lenient with him.' A Winnebago father explains to his children that in lecturing them constantly and insisting on correct behavior he is only doing what the elders have said he must do.' A Fox mother explained to her daughter that she taught her rigorously because her own mother had exhorted her to do so.' Sanpoil parents, after perhaps conniving to have the "Old Man up the River" come to put the "fear of God" into their children, would sympathize with the children and advise them how to avoid the worst of the whippings they were scheduled to get.' Cree discipline was evoked in such a way as to protect the parents from establishing unfriendly relations with their children.'M The Eskimo family strives to develop an atmosphere of mutual respect and good will within its ranks, and avoids coercion and restraint.' The Iroquois maintained family solidarity by referring all threats of punishment to an outside authority.' 3. A third widespread feature of primitive culture which tends to inhibit corporal punishment or even verbal chastisement is the close linking of childhood with the supernatural world. Infants and young children, being relatively weak and help- less, are regarded everywhere in North America, apparently, as being on the one hand, dangerously susceptible to the machinations of malevolent spirits, and on the other, particular wards of the good spirits. The connection between supernatural rapport and parental treatment is clearly defined and is widely used as a rational- ization of kindness and respect, and even of awe toward the child. However, this 18 Hendren, p. 50. " Luther Standing Bear, 1931, p. 9. 30 Gifford, 1933, p. 287. tm Parsons, 1916a, pp. 41-51. "Walker, p. 106. ss Radin, 1926, pp. 69-70. " Michelson, 1918, p. 299. "Ray, 1932, p. 131. "Paget, p. 119. tmEawkes, p. 114. "Mead, 1937, section by Quain, pp. 271-272. 10 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. dual supernatural relationship is believed to weaken as the child approaches ma- turity, and then the same concept may be used as a rationalization for stringent disciplinary measures, specifically aimed at reawakening the pity and patronage of the good spirits. A mild reflection of this antithesis is found in the widespread custom of cutting holes in the soles of the child's first moccasins to arouse the pity of any spirit who happens to pass. The Flathead,' particularly, when many children have died, ostentatiously dress their infants in old rags and deliberately treat them meanly in order to excite commiseration in the hearts of the ubiquitous omnipotents of the invisible realms. This concept plays a role in guardian-spirit quests and prob- ably also in many puberty or initiation rites. The nature of the child's relationship to the supernatural varies from area to area, but the connotations for the parent are largely the same. The Eskimo, quite generally, regard the child as the recipient of the soul of a recently deceased relative. The child is not a reincarnatiop, but provides a resting place for the otherwise home- less soul and in exchange benefits by the knowledge, experience, and power belong- ing to that soul. The attitude of the adults, and even the terms of address, are dictated by their recognition of the identity of the soul which the child has inherited. It is unthinkable to slap or to speak harshly to aged relatives. No more is such treatment appropriate for the children who carry the souls of these respected individuals.' Mistreatment of a child need not cause the departure of the soul and death of the child; it may simply result in malicious vengeance-the child will develop abnormally large ears, bowlegs, or a humpback.' Individuals account for their own intellectual shortcomings as owing to unwise harshness by their parents early in life.' It is believed, further, that if two children or more are designated as the wards and namesakes of some particular soul, it is safer to scold one of these children because the soul has another sanctuary into which it can temporarily retreat.43 Similar concepts, in one form or another, occur widely in North America. The child is linked with the supernatural as strongly as, if not more strongly than, with the terrestrial. He is not simply an undeveloped human being. He partakes of the mystery out of which he has come, and is in a process of transition from the super- human to the human which. careless treatment may reverse. As the Delaware explained it, a child's soul had a very weak hold on earth and until it had gained in confidence and terrestrial strength it could easily be lost. The parents were in com- petition with spirits who would like to entice the child away again." In Handsome Lake's interpretation of Iroquois understanding on this point it is said that a child may be frightened away from earth by angry words spoken in his presence even though not directly addressed to him.' The Menomini estimate the age at which a child may be safely thrashed at about eight years. Before that even an unintentional slight is dangerous. A child will become sick, and immediately a feast must be given to wipe out the disgrace and to reassure the child's spiritual friends and relatives.' The Ojibwa extend this concept to the point of believing that the child, because of his supernatural connections, is aware of what goes on even beyond his range of sight and hearing; consequently his parents must be circumspect in their behavior at all 9 Turney-High, pp. 68-69. 0Many references have been made to this Eskimo concept. Examples are: Birket-Smith, pp. 154-155; Hawkes, pp. 112-113; StefAnsson, 1913, pp. 395-399. 41 Stefinsson, 1913, p. 399. 4 Idem, 1914, p. 207. 8 Ibid., p. 363. " Harrington, 1910, p. 55. ' Morgan, p. 229. 0S Skinner, 1913a, pp. 38-41. Pettitt: Primitive Education in North America 11 times lest the child be disgraced and go back to the spirit world.'7 The North Atha- baskan Kutchin, close neighbors of the Mackenzie Eskimo, share their vivid beliefs, but avoid the multiple-soul complexity by acceptance of the idea of direct reincarna- tion. A wraith makes arrangements with the expectant mother by visiting her in her dreams.' Among the Fox, the omniscience of the child begins even beforg, birth and an expectant mother must be careful not to quarrel with anyone, because the child understands all and may decide not to be born into such a cranky family." That the Oto shared knowledge of a child's supernatural affiliations is indicated merely by the statement that children were not whipped because they would promptly return to the spirit world.' The Lummi of northwestern Washington add still another refinement to the concept of infant omniscience. Not only does a child understand what is said in his presence from the moment of delivery on, but he detects what is passing in the minds of those near him, and if his parents are not thinking good thoughts he may decide to look elsewhere for a more congenial atmosphere.' In the Southwest, the Havasupai apparently limit their concept of the child's spiritual affiliations to a simple belief in the soul's freedom of choice. A child may be chastised, but not too severely, or his soul will depart.'3 The Hupa recognize the supernatural sensitivity of children and state that if whipped they may die." Elsewhere in the Southwest the basic idea is elaborated upon. The Hopi do not whip children, because they are under the special protection of the gods: in legend, children who are mis- treated are saved from their parents by transformation into stone, thereafter turn- ing into topographical features with moral attached." This concept of child intimacy with the supernatural may be regarded, in one form or another, as universal among primitive peoples in North America, and probably beyond that area. It may be that the desire to refer disciplinary matters to some outside authority (see above, p. 9) is essentially related to the attitude toward the supernatural. But in any event they combine to create a social attitude, an understanding of which, I believe, will help to clarify the development of other widespread North American culture traits or institutions. (See pp. 18, 28 ff., 154.) 4. A fourth factor which may have contributed positively to the marked develop- ment of parental indulgence of children in North America, even if to a minor degree only, is the widespread use of so-called "cradleboards." There is no need to review the subject of cradleboards. Mason has already described the major types of boards, or, more accurately, portable cradles, and indicated their general distribution.' Quite recently a description of cradles and their use in the Pueblo area has been published by W. and M. G. Dennis." These cradles were board, bark, or wicker frames to which infants were strapped or lashed from a few days after birth to the age of six months, or a year, or older. The child spent his days bound to this frame except for necessary bathing periods. Sometimes he was taken out at night. At other times, probably when the weather permitted, he was left strapped to the frame at night. The legs, hips, and trunk were always tightly confined. The hands and arms were often treated likewise. In the areas where flat heads were considered 47Jenness, 1935, pp. 90-91. '8 Osgood, 1936, p. 140. ' Michelson, 1918, p. 343. Mc Whitman, p. 70. E Stern, p. 14. 52 Spier, 1920, 29:325. " Curtis, 1907-30, 13:21. " Stephen, pp. 143-144. "0 . T. Mason, 1887. 56Wayne and Marsena G. Dennis, pp. 107-115. 12 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. esthetic and particularly desired, the natural effect of lashing to a cradle frame was heightened by lashing the head down also, with a board or pad or sack of sand on top. Except for the Eskimo and a few tribes in the Southeast which substituted hammocks, the cradleboard was used in every cultural area in North America, and with very few exceptions by every people within these areas. We cannot avoid conjecturing on the influence of this binding during the first year of life upon the personality of the child, at least for a period after release. There is no absolute proof on this point. However, innumerable observers have commented upon the quietness of young Indian children, upon their patience and their stoicism. Other commentators have accepted as an obvious fact, or as a fact vouched for by Indian information, that the use of the cradleboard did lead to a more restrained childhood later and obviated somewhat the need for disciplinary procedures. Belden credits the cradleboard for the early development of stoicism in Siouan children, adding-that the habit of leaving them bound in these cradles for hours on end, regardless of their crying, teaches them to bear life calmly.' Hunter, a white youth reared by the Kansas and the Osage, speaks also of crying children bound in cradles and left to their 'own devices." Michelson confirms this for the Fox.' Grinnell states that a Cheyenne mother might try to hush a crying baby several times, but if he continued to cry for apparently no good reason, he was carried into the bush, cradleboard and all, to hang and scream to his heart's content without disturbing anyone.' Kwakiutl babies were said to be bound to prevent them from developing wild and roving dispositions, but more pertinently, when released from the cradle at a year or more of age they were as clumsy and helpless as normal babies one month old.' Concerning the coast Salishan tribes, the same author reports: "Early observers unite in declaring that the infants ... were less lively than unconfined children."" In the Shoshone family older children mimicked the crying of the cradle-bound infant and drowned it out." A trained psychologist, after studying educational problems among the Sioux, said: "Theoretically, the first spectacular interference with the Sioux child's de- veloping activities is the cradle-board whose straps held the baby so that he could not move.... It would take detailed observation to determine what the psychological result of such measures was and is." That there is a psychological result would seem7to be the soundest conclusion. Dr. Harold Ellis Jones, in conversation, said that it would be most surprising if a child came through the experience without some psychological effect. That restraint of movement or covering the face are two methods by which the rage of a young infant may be most readily aroused seems to be an accepted fact." Certainly a cradleboard accomplishes the first of these most effectively, and frequently it accomplishes the second also, for flaps to cover the face were a common accessory on cradleboards. Barring the remote possibility that Indian children do not react psychologically as other children do, it seems indicated that through the cradleboard the child acquires some of the patience and stoicism observers have noted. Tentative findings point to an identity of psychological reactions between whites and primitives, at least in areas outside of North America." " Brisbin, p. 158. "T Ibid., 9:81. "0 Hunter, p. 263. "0 Shimkin, MS. "m Michelson, 1918, p. 315. " Erikson, p. 138. eGrinnell, 1923, 1:108. "s Jensen, p. 362. eCurtis, 1907-1930, 10:52-53. "David M. Levy and Jeanette- Mirsky, in an article for the American Journal of Orthopsy- chiatry, reviewed in Science News Letter, February 18, 1939, report that studies of natives in Guatemala and Argentina show that their reactions are similar to those of civilized children in regard to loss of status as the youngest in the family. Pettitt: Primitive Education in North America 13 Observations of Hopi children relative to the effect of cradleboards on physical development appear to indicate that the cradleboard has no detectable influence on age of walking.' An interesting sidelight is thrown on this question, also, by the work of Danzinger and Frankl with Albanian peasant children, who are sub- jected to much the same treatment as are Indian infants. Bis zum Ende des ersten Lebensjabres werden diese schmalen Holzwiegen festgebunden gehalten, und zwax sind Arme und Beine ganz eng an den K6rper geschliirt, so dass das Kind keinerlei Bewegungsfreiheit hat. Es wird aueh wahrend des Stillens nicht herausgenommen. Die Mutter hockt sich neben die Wiege, zieht sie zu sich und liisst das Kind in dieser Stellung trinken. Die Wiege mit dem Kind steht den gr6ssten Teil des Tages, waihrend der ersten 6 monate immer, in einer dunklen Eeke der meist fensterlosen Hfitte."e" Unfortunately, this study by Danzinger and Frankl was not concerned directly with psychological patterns, and dealt more with muscular co6rdination and ma- nipulative skills. In this regard the authors state: Aber eigentlich liegt das Gesamtentwicklungsniveau dieser 10 albanischen Saiuglinge nicht so wesentlich unter dem der Wiener Kinder aus proletarischem Milieu, wie man nach den Lebensbe- dingungen haitte erwarten k6nnen.e However, at five months these children show a deficiency of cooirdination and grip- ping. At seven to eight months they have largely overcome this deficiency but show an astonishing lack of co6rdination in judging distances and reaching for objects. At later ages, from one year to five years nine months, the children seemed to be precocious in performing practical tasks but were still deficient in making finer coordinations. More significantly for our purposes, the authors remark that the children were socially well adjusted, but quiet, docile, and very little given to games and play. This is interesting in relation to the oft-made statement that Indian children learn much through spontaneous play and voluntary imitation. In conclu- sion the authors of this study make the tentative statement that the Albanian child- ren seem to develop certain activity capacities in a passive way without bringing them into use. When confronted with an activity problem they flounder hopelessly at first, but then proceed to learn it very rapidly. Reference to this phenomenon of developing muscular coordination and abilities in a latent fashion even though lacking normal practice is made by Josef Grohmann in studies of the development of flight capacity in pigeons.' Grohmann found that young pigeons deprived of opportunity to learn flight from other birds, or to practice it at the normal age, nevertheless took off and flew at the first opportunity with little apparent uncertainty. They skipped the floundering and trial-and-error stage. The only difference was that they were easily exhausted, and after their first flight came to the ground with wings so tired that they hung weakly and helplessly downward. He came to the conclusion that flight ability was co6rdinated with stage of maturity, and by further tests indicated that it could be neither delayed by con- finement nor speeded by forced practice. Again there is no light thrown on the possible psychological effect of these experiments on the pigeons. Although definite evidence is apparently not available, the listing of cradle- boards as one possible factor in making Indian children amenable to an early train- ing, so strongly marked by indulgence, cannot be avoided. That it is not a primary factor, however, would seem to be indicated by the fact that Eskimo children are treated just as indulgently as other children, with apparently equal success, despite Dennis, p. 108. 6 Danzinger and Frankl, p. 224. 9 Ibid., p. 234. 70 Grohmann, pp. 132-144. 14 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. the absence of a preliminary cradleboard conditioning. It may be, however, that environmental stringencies, and the necessity which the Eskimo baby faces of adapting himself to the peculiarities of the inside of a parka, and of learning to cling tenaciously at an early age, serve as effective substitutes for the cradleboard. The use of hammocks in the Southeast is not essentially different from that of the cradleboard. A body-weighted net hammock is probably as confining as, and searcely more flexible than, a rigid frame. Summary It has been shown that generalizations concerning primitive indulgence of child- ren in North America, and concerning the almost complete absence of discipline, even of the physical type, are not universally applicable. The evidence presented indicates that the unquestioned high degree of child indulgence by parents is not, as seems often to be tacitly accepted, a result of a psychic difference between primi- tives and civilized peoples-of a specifically primitive attitude toward progeny in the abstract; that disciplinary practices are not an example of primitive culture weakness, but are in rather neat balance with the objectives of primitive society and with its other beliefs and practices. The object of this exposition is not merely to clarify the question because of its fundamental relation to the larger subject of primitive education, but also to provide a background for a consideration of these disciplinary practices as a directive influence on, as well as a reflection of, the culture as a whole. The significant features of primitive disciplinary practices for this pur- pose are: the universal tendency to refer discipline or the authority for it to some individual or agency outside of the group, and the tendency to rely most practi- cally on supernatural agencies as the ultimate reference. Primitive education is usually treated as a process of culture transmission brought into play for the purpose of perpetuating an already established culture and the social group associated with it. Attention is called to the fact that culture trans- mission, or education, had to begin contemporaneously with social groups and cultures themselves; that it developed not as a late addition to culture, but as a fundamental and primordial part of a culture which laid down certain restrictions and provided certain stimuli to which the development of the culture had to respond. The psychology of the child presents the same social problem to all cultures, and so far as the complexity of the culture demands that it be met, and it is met, there is a ubiquitous factor tending to promote culture parallels and convergences, not to mention influencing culture diffusion. Pettitt: Primitive Education in North America 15 III. THE ROLE OF THE MOTHER'S BROTHER REFERENCE has already been made to the fact that educational practices, probably more so than most cultural activities on the primitive level, are restricted in their arbitrary variation from people to people and area to area by the specific and uni- versal psychic comparability of the object of education, the young child. Primitive man, to a surprising degree, has explored the psychological motivations of the child and has made effective use of them. Lowie cites the fact that primitives were using many educational postulates which educators have formulated with relative pre- cision only in recent times.' The Rev. Cooper says: "There is probably no method or device known to and practiced by civilized man which is not known to and prac- ticed by uncivilized man in the social and moral training of the child."2 A very recent group summary of what modern psychology has to offer for the educator with respect to the emotional aspects of the child implies that some at least of the confusions of modern education derive from departure from or neglect of funda- mental facts that primitive peoples used with effective intensity.8 The editor of the same work questions particularly our neglect of emotional factors.' Primitive peoples recognized both systems of stimulating the development of social beings outlined by Aldrich: a system of rewards and punishments, and a system of inculcation of correct collective views through educational processes, which, Aldrich explains, enable a youth to "mingle freely in society without having to think (which is a great convenience) and ... discourage him from trying to think for himself (which is a risky thing to do) ."' One fundamental practice of the primitive peoples in accomplishing these ends is to reserve to those groups intimately concerned with the allegiance of a youth, the pleasantest educational tasks, and to place the responsibility for the majority of the unpleasant duties upon some outside individual or agency. This was alluded to on page 9 as "discipline by outsiders." It is more correct to say of primitive peoples that parents avoid disciplining their children if possible, than it is to say that children are not disciplined. The attitude noted by Margaret Mead in the New Admiralty Islands, where a mother refused to take a green fruit out of the mouth of her baby but persuaded some outsider to do it because she might lose the child's good will, is typical of North America also.' Waking boys early in the morning and forcing them to take a cold bath or to roll in the snow or to run up a hill was a part of the training program in most of the tribes treated here. If there was any re- calcitrance to be overcome, the parents called in a relative or a friend or some warrior or leader to perform the disagreeable duty. Wissler is the only writer noted who has specifically made a generalization on this point, but he dismisses it with a single statement: "Wherever we have data, parents almost never punish or even severely reprove, but such pressure as may be needed is exercised by certain rela- tives. In North America this is sometimes the clan or gens uncle of the offender, according to sex and mode of inheritance."7 Like most generalizations, this one is 1Lowie, 1929, p. 177. 2Oooper, 1928, p. 12. 8 Prescott, p. 48. 4 Ibid., p. 4. Questions answered in the affirmative are: "(1) Whether emotion has been unduly ignored in the stress laid upon the acquisition of knowledge and the development of skill in the acquisition of knowledge; (2) Whether education should concern itself with the strength and direction of desires developed or inhibited by the educational process; (3) whether the stress laid on the attitude of neutral detachment desirable in the scientific observer, has been unduly ex- tended into other spheres of life to the impoverishment of the life of American youth." 5Aldrich, p. 129. 6 Mead, 1930, p. 17. 7Wissler, 1922a, p. 188. 16 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. not entirely accurate; the use of pressure is not limited to relatives. Other outsiders, usually the most influential and power-blessed individuals available, may exercise it; it may be exerted by supernaturals, or, more craftily, by anonymous individuals, often holding semiofficial office in the tribal group or like as not in a secret society, who become for the time being personifications of these supernaturals-legendary, mythical bogeymen, dramatically appearing in the flesh to lend substance and sig- nificance to advice, precepts, and myths that a father and mother have whispered over the dying embers of the evening fire. As Jensen8 points out, emotional conflicts of child and adult are sublimated by projecting the blame on outside agencies. The supernatural aspects of the question will be considered in a subsequent chap- ter. The object here is to call attention to the more prosaic of the outside discipli- narians, and particularly to the relative who frequently serves in that capacity, the mother's brother. The idea of discipline by prosaic outsiders reaches its farthest ex- tension perhaps among the southerly relatives of the Shoshone family, the Luiseino, where in preparation for the girls' puberty ordeal an outside clan is approached and asked to appoint the presiding official, the "puhmutevi" (rear end), to put the girls through the rite, leaving relatives to cluster around, give friendly advice, and sing to help them.9 Similarly, among the Hopi, the ceremonial fathers, who conduct neophytes through the "kachina" initiation and hold them while they are whipped, are chosen for no apparent reason from a clan to which neither parent belongs.1' More commonly, the disciplining individual is merely someone outside the close family circle. Swanton reports for the Choctaw, and presumably the Creek and Chickasaw as well, that a mother did not strike her son, and "when her little boy errs she takes him to an old man who gives him a lecture and then throws cold water over his body.'"' The Natchez followed the same custom.1' The idea of placing a boy under the instruction of an outsider because the latter would feel freer to administer necessary discipline frequently occurs; the Labrador Montagnais-Naskapi' is a case in point. For the most part, the proctor or guardian who accompanies a girl into puberty confinement in order to see that she observes taboos and perhaps to offer instruction, is idenqtified only as some older woman, friend, or relative. But almost invariably it is not the mother. The Pima provide specifically that "her mother selected some favorite woman friend, not a relative, in whose charge she placed the girl for a period of four days. During this time the preceptress taught her how to perform such household tasks as she may not already have learned; also, the prin- ciples of industry, honesty, chastity, and the like."'4 Among the Copper Eskimo, even where the children show little respect, interrupting and correcting their parents, the regard for the child's extra soul prevents parental discipline at the early ages, but other elders may step in and force submission through public shame or disapproval, or, apparently, on occasion, by a passing whack with a snow duster, which the youngster seeks to retaliate.1' References occasionally occur to an elder brother's, not the parents', administering corporal punishment. But the Hidatsa, for whom this holds, significantly class the mother's brother with the elder brother.' The Flathead substitute a girl's older male cousins as her disciplinarians in sex transgressions; if by assiduous spying they catch her on the primrose path they beat her within an inch of her life.1' In the same tribe the chief appoints a policeman to keep the children within bounds.1' 8 Jensen, pp. 376 if. 14 Russell, p. 182. 9 Strong, p. 297. 15Jenness, 1936, p. 169. 10 Steward, 1931. '0Lowie, 1917, p. 39. "Swanton, 1931, p. 124. "Turney-High, ehap. 7. 12Idem, 1911, p. 87. 18 Ibid., p. 76. 1' Speck, 1933, pp. 574-575. Pettitt: Primitive Education in North America 17 These examples, a few of the myriad available, are offered not primarily to con- firm Wissler's statement, but rather to indicate the variety of ways in which the "discipline by an outsider" principle may express itself. Forced tribal and secret society initiations partake of the same concept. TEE AVUNCULATE In discussing the relation of the idea of "discipline by outsiders" to the avunculate, it should be recalled that the origin of the peculiar relationship between child and maternal uncle or a man and his sister's child, particularly his sister's son, is still a mystery. The most frequent explanation treats it as merely a concomitant of matrilineal descent. According to this theory, the custom of bequeathing property to one's sister's children rather than to one's own children, and the privileged reciprocal status of the nephew in regard to his maternal uncle are natural re- sults of the mother-centered family and social group; in fact they are so uniquely related to maternal domination that the avunculate may be used as an infallible sign of a formerly existing matriarchal or matrilineal form of society even when it occurs among pronouncedly patriarchal or patrilineal peoples. Not many years ago Lowie said: The avunculate remains one of the favorite weapons in the arsenal of those writers who regard mother-sibs as necessarily earlier than father-sibs; to these scholars authority wielded by the maternal uncle is a sure sign of a prior condition of maternal descent because they cannot conceive of any cause that could possibly create such a state of affairs except the matrilineal organization of society.> Prominent among the writers who have continued to cling to the avunculate- matriarchate connection are E. Sidney Hartland' and Junod.' Kroeber has shown rather conclusively the inadequacy of Hartland's argument in relation to the American Indians. In speaking of the historical development of the avunculate Kroeber states: "It probably never will be recovered in the necessary fullness. We must therefore fall back on inferential probabilities based on averaged experi- ence." It is with this statement in mind that the data to follow are offered. Lowie has expressed the belief that both the matrilineate and the avunculate may be results of a common cause; namely, matrilocal residence, and that therefore a tribe having or formerly having matrilocal residence could develop the avunculate without ever espousing matrilineal descent or other features of the matriarchate.' Boas, in a study of the Vandau of Africa, where the avunculate exists in a strongly patrilineal society, states that the peculiar status of the mother's brother can be explained as a result of male superiority and female inferiority in all relationships except marriage.' In another study of a similarly patrilineal African group, H. Thurnwald states that the possible existence of a former matrilineate as an expla- nation of the avunculate there found seems out of the question.' Lowie has pointed out that the avunculate is so often balanced by a special relationship between a child and the father's sister that the latter might be given an equivalent name: "the Amitate."tm Radcliffe-Brown, also calling attention to the balance between the special status of the mother's brother and the father's sister, considers no explana- " Lowie, 1922c, p. 94. 2 Hartland, 1917, p. 29; and 1918, p. 226. 2 Junod, 1913. 22 Kroeber, 1917, pp. 571-579. 28 Ibid., comment following Hartland, 1918, p. 228. > Lowie, 1919b, p. 38; and 1922c. :Boas, 1922, pp. 95-97. X H. Thurnwald, p. 69. " Lowie, 1934, p. 321. 18 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. tion of the avunculate acceptable that does not also explain the position of the father's sister.' He accounts for both the avunculate and Lowie's "Amitate," in South Africa, as predominantly a result of primitive tendencies to classify relatives and to consider the mother's b-rother a second father or a male mother and the father's sister a second mother or a female father, with a consequent merging of the behavior called for by both parents. He adds that the position of the mother's brother is enhanced by the fact that males have greater privileges with regard to ancestral ghosts, and that the only approach of children to their maternal ancestors' spirits is therefore through their mother's brother. For peoples of the Pacific, Hocart has attempted to derive the entire avunculate idea from practices associated with religion and the supernatural.' The foregoing summary is given to indicate the lack of agreement on the subject of the avunculate, and the variety of explanations offered for it. There is seldom ever any simple explanation of any complex social custom. The point to be developed in this section is not presented as a substitute for all other explanations of the avun- culate. Rather, it is suggested as a basic social situation out of which the avunculate seems to develop quite logically, no doubt under the influence of many additional factors. Previous writers, in stressing the equivalent importance of the father's sister, were probably closer than they suspected to a basic factor in the avunculate. MoTirEPR's BROTHER AS DISCIPLINARIAN AND TEACHER One of the striking points brought to light by this survey of educational practices in primitive North America is the frequency with which the mother's brother figures as a disciplinarian and teacher. So far as North America is concerned, the most widespread expression of the uncle-nephew or uncle-niece relationship and its balancing aunt-nephew or aunt-niece relationship seems to be in terms of child training or child guidance. Property inheritance from the mother's brother ap- pears to have been exaggerated by the tendency of Occidental observers to think in terms of property. Much of the property concerned seems to be accessory to knowledge that the mother's brother is expected to impart; or, put in another way, accessory to the obligation toward and anxiety for the preparation of a sister's children to meet economic, social, and spiritual problems successfully. A good example of the way in which traditional application of the property con- cept tends to obscure a really more fundamental function of the avunculate is provided by the Pomo of California. Freeland, in discussing Pomo medicine men, stresses the fact that "outfit" doctors inherited their equipment from an elder, usually from the father or from the mother's brother."' Later' she describes in detail that the inheritance was really a matter of the pupil's being chosen for training in childhood, and of his serving as an apprentice until well into maturity when the tangible property was conveyed by gift if the student had acquired the requisite knowledge. Loeb' confirms Freeland's observations and extends them by indicating that a youth inherited all professions, and almost always through the female line, from his mother's brother or his mother's maternal uncle. He lists these profes- sions as, primarily, hunter, fisherman, and- doctor; but secondarily, wampum driller, wampum drill maker, hair net maker, fish net maker, duck net maker, obsidian flaker. He clearly indicates the nature of this inheritance by speaking of the instruction on which it is based. If a man became a hunter, he says, it was Radcliffe-Brown, pp. 542-585. Hocart, 1915, pp. 644-645. tFreeland, p. 58. 1 Ibid., p. 59. a2Loeb, 1926, pp. 176-181. Pettitt: Primitive Education in North America 19 because his maternal uncle, father, or some close relative was one, and this relative took a liking to him and considered him an apt pupil. The pupil went along on hunting expeditions and received instruction. At home the teacher and pupil re- hearsed hunting songs until the boy had a full repertoire and could hunt alone, usually when he was twenty-five to thirty years old. After that the teacher stayed at home and sang songs to bring his protege luck. All men hunted, but only those who went through this procedure and acquired the requisite knowledge were con- sidered professionals. Loeb also mentions that it was the maternal uncle who intro- duced a boy to the sweat house ; and adds' that the chieftainship was hereditary in the female line, mentioning that instruction began while the heir was a boy. A child's name, the educational importance of which will be indicated in a later section, was conferred by the mother's brother at birth, and a later name was con- ferred by the father's brother, though this second name was less important. A man imparted power for the various activities of life to his sister's sons by teaching them songs, giving them magic outfits, and rubbing them.' Knowledge concerning poison- ing was also imparted to a sister's son. In none of these cases does it appear that the use of the term "inheritance" is quite correct, for the transfer took place as a gift during the life of the donor. It seems better to describe the process of transfer as one of education, the concepts of property and inheritance having been applied by observers merely because it was convenient thus to classify them. When other tribes are considered from the same point of view, it becomes appar- ent that the essential function of the maternal uncle, quite generally, is that of instructor, or outside disciplinarian, rather than legator. The property concept is purely secondary, arising from the fact that most of the primitive people here considered looked on knowledge as personal property, much as did medieval school- teachers and master craftsmen. Seldom, if at all, does a native speak of inheriting from his uncle. Probably the material which follows, comprising sixty-three refer- ences in the literature to the mother's brother or to the general term "uncle," will clarify this point. Pomo: M b preferred teacher.* Loeb, 1926. Pat win: Informant introduced to Hesi society, taught shamanism by m b. Kroeber, 1932, pp. 285, 330. Role of m b as teacher shows patrilineate rigid only in theory. Ibid., p. 331. Paiute: Informant says never learned to hunt because f died and u shirked his responsibility. Steward, 1934, p. 433. Yavapai: If f died, m b might train the boy. Gifford, 1936, p. 301. Tlingit: On eve of marriage, u gives boy instruction and advice. Swanton, 1904, p. 428. Haida: Characterized as model avunculate, but chief feature is that boy at age of ten goes to live with u for his education. Gets property only if u has no s. Murdock, pp. 358-359. F ss instructs girl at puberty. Ibid., pp. 363-364. Hunting formulae obtained from f orm b. Swanton, 1909b, p. 57. Boys disciplined by n b. Ibid., p. 50. TMIbid., p. 160. 84Ibid., pp. 229-240. 6 Ibid., p. 258. Ibid, p. 307. * Abbreviations used in these references are: a, aunt; b, brother; c, child (ren); f, father; f s8, father's sister; gf, grandfather; gp, grandparent(s); gs, grandson(s); m i, mother; ne, niece; np, nephew; o, older; p, parent(s); 8, son(s); 8s, sister(s); u, uncle; w, wife. 20 University of Catifornia Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. T8imnshian: Myths indicate necessity of man being f to 8S C, but no intimate love. Boas, 1909, p. 425. Nootka: Boy instructed in magie and taboo by f and m b. Sapir, 1922, p. 308. Puget Sound: It was because m b too officious that world was flooded. Ballard, pp. 49-S0. Tanaino: Boy trained by u because latter did not hesitate to discipline. But no property inheritance de- spite matrilineate. Osgood, 1937, pp. 143-144. Carrier: If any chastising, m b does it. Boy taught by f or u. Jenness, 1928, p. 25. Kutchin: M b usually mentor, sometimes f b. But property goes f to 8. Osgood, 1936, pp. 116, 123. Yakcima: Boy,sent on vision quest by f or by u. Curtis, 1907-1930, 7:10. Flathead: F looks to w b for help in training 8, though gf is steady teacher. Turney-High, p. 76. Okanogan: Next to p, u, a are teachers. Teit, 1927, p. 281. Ojibwa: B responsible for 88 illegitimate o. Landes, 1938, p. 46. Gf and u care for boy on vision quest. U remonstrates with one who dies prematurely, makes him live. Kohl, pp. 239-242, 223. Shoshone: If woman beats her c, it is her b who interferes. Shimkin. Hopi: F and u go with boy on ordeal races. Steward, 1931, p. 57. Girl goes to f ss for corn-grinding ceremony. Curtis,-1907-1930, 12:36. M b takes chief responsibility for teaching ceremonies and rituals. Helps f and f's relatives in economic training. Beaglehole, pp. 7, 19. F ss names c, sponsors boy for warrior society. E. and P. Beaglehole, pp. 25, 35-37. Isleta: M b although of different elan than the f may be designated as f. Also called boy's o b or gf. F s8 is important in preparing boy as a hunter. Property goes to own c. Parsons, 1929, pp. 221-239. Acoma: M b picks boy's ceremonial f if own f dead. U makes boy's first prayer stick. White, 1929, pp. 71, 74. Navaho: Both f and in b are boy's teachers. Are like two f. Reichard, 1928, p. 56. U mentioned as present while f taught 8. Dyk, p. 76 ff. Enemy Way ritual may be taught to any boy, but S8 8 is preferred. No clan rule. Halle, p. 12. Apache: H b is the one whom boy must strive to excel in hunting, running, and in general behavior. Opler, 1938, pp. 4, 23, 43. Blackfoot: In story of Smoking Star it is m b who takes over boy's education when f is killed. Wissler, 1922b. Biography of Strange Wolf indicates u takes boy on first war party and sponsors and instructs him. Idem., 1911, p. 33. Dakota: U is chief instructor for everything except respectability, which is handled by f and gf. Mirsky, p. 416 ff. Mandan, Hidatsa, Crow: No trace of typical avunculate in these matrilineal tribes, for property descended f to 8. How- ever, if c needs discipline, it is given by an Elder Brother, which is name for m b. Lowie, 1917, pp. 39, 40, 89. Hidatsa: M b is privileged to admonish a boy severely, without pity, and to guide him by sharp sareasm and ridicule. Ourtis, 1907-1930, 4:142. Pettitt: Primitive Education in North America 21 Crow: M b advised boy how to get medicine bundles, and in one case gave medicine to a promising np as well as to own 8. Lowie, 1922a, p. 403. Teachers were gf, f, or u. It was an u who organized a boy's playmates into a mock war party and sponsored the exciting game of raiding the village for meat. An ut helps boy on vision quest. Linderman, 1930, pp. 9, 18, 69. Sioux: In mythical story, Ahak-tah meets m b in land of dead and knows him at once because it was from him that he learned use of bow and arrow. M. Eastman, p. 174 ff. When Black Elk recounts life he recalls it was his u who prevented him from going on warpath at too early an age. Neihardt, p. 99. In autobiography, Ohiyessa says up to the age of fifteen his u was his constant teacher, and prepared him for the vision quest by challenging him to fasting contests. C. A. Eastman, 1902, pp. 52-58. Oto: A man is expected to joke and discipline his ss a, and a woman, to some extent, takes the same role toward b c. A f never chastised own c. His S8 and w b took care of that. Whitman, pp. 47, 70, 71. Despite matrilineate, c had property claim on property of f. Curtis, 1907-1930, 19:156. Omaha: Despite patrilineate, m b took as much interest in S8 c as f did, and on f's death assumed respon- sibility for his ss's family. Fletcher and La Flesche, 1911, p. 325. Kiclapoo: M might blacken face of impudent c, but her b or her h 8S or h o b may tie up and throw in water. P threaten that paternal a will "kill" and that maternal u will "hang" them. Michelson, 1923, p. 281. Fox: C would not dare be impudent to m b. Ibid. Cheyenne: In Cheyenne biography, f ss is guide and mentor in love matters. Idem., 1932, p. 1. A man is expected to eonfer his own name on s8 8, and serves as teacher for them as well as for his own s and gs. Grinnell, 1923, pp. 107, 120. Arapaho: Usually a girl's m gives little instruction in correct behavior. This done by f ss. M b also teacher. Michelson, 1935, p. 598, n. 601. Winnebago: Boy owes in b far stricter obedience than his own f. Must always do what u says, but may take liberties with u's property. Thwaites, p. 423. Medicine Lodge official always addresses neophyte as "nephew" during course of instruction. Radin, 1915, p. 364. Iroquois: U and a assumed role of principal teacher for boy or girl, respectively. Parker, 1931, pp. 109-111. Seneca myths and legends deal with boy and his u, the mentor and teacher, quite frequently. Curtin. A man may bequeath his property to his w or his c despite the strong matrilineate. Morgan, p. 316. Huron and Wyandot tales use u and np proteg6 as favorite characters. Barbeau. Muskogee: In story of Tokulki of Tulsa, unmarried b or w is only outsider in family group, and it is his duty, using stout stick when necessary, to see that boys get up early and bathe. Boy learned early he must win u's approbation and avoid his displeasure. Swanton, 1922. Chitimacha: Some evidence that U might seek power for his no vicariously, and then transfer it. Haas, p. 605. Chickasaw, Choctaw: C never whipped by p but sent to u for a rebuke, or to have some penance set and an appeal to pride made. Cushman, p. 489. Southeast generally: In all that concernfs the c the mn b is consulted. Claiborne, quoted in Swanton, 1931, p. 125. 22 University of California Publications-in Am. Arch. and Ethn. Creek Confederacy: Strong matrilineate but p left property where they pleased. M b called 'Pawa." Each clan had an official teacher and advisor whose name was also "Pawa." His influence so strong that ? taught by same "Pawa" would not intermarry even though they belonged to different clans. Lectures for all. Swanton, 1924 pp. 81, 122, 365-366. Shawnee: Wildcat in autobiography says his m b became his guardian when his f died. Alford, p. 87. Eskimo: Eskimo -family bilateral everywhere except in Bering Strait region. The m b exercises many privileges in family life. Birket-Smith, p. 146. There is no intent to draw from these references a conclusion that the mother's brother and the father's sister were the only teachers in a primitive community. Education was not consciously institutionalized among primitive peoples. The father and mother undoubtedly gave as much time as anyone to the training of their children. Far more than in civilized society, their standing in the community de- pended upon the behavior and success of their children. The statement so often made that the society as a group took responsibility for children is true only if we recognize that the society worked with the parents and usually at their instigation. In order to avoid disciplinary action on the part of members of the immediate family which might lead to a straining of intrafamily relations, outsiders were frequently called upon. Grandparents were favorite assistants and consultants. The wisest, most respected, and consequently most spiritually powerful individuals in the community were in demand by all parents. Leaders of societies, esoteric or exoteric, were also prominent on the disciplinary panel. But the mother's brother and the father's sister played unexpectedly important roles; for they were ordinar- ily not old enough to be among the most respected tribal elders, as were the grand- parents, and they functioned, apparently, because of their relationship rather than because of societal or other connections. It is important to inquire the reasons for this. The mother's brother, first of, all, may be looked upon as the safest man in the community, from a primitive husband's point of view. Strict incest rules eliminate him as a conjugal rival. This does not hold for the father's brother. In fact, legend- ary tales quite frequently deal with families disrupted by clandestine affairs be- tween a man's wife and his brother. Parents-in-law are fairly safe, but they are also frequently a nuisance for the husband because of avoidance regulations. However, this appears to be only one reason for the prominence of the mother's brother in family affairs,, or conversely, from the wife's point of view, for the prominence of the husband's sister. An equally important, or more important reason seems to be simply that in primitive society the one relationship which rivals that of parent-child is that of brother-sister. Universally, the relationship between brothers and sisters is charged with the highest degree of mutual respect and mutual responsibility. It appears to be one of the strongest links in holding primitive societies together. Primitive marriage has been described often as an interfamily contract. The individuals most directly involved in this contract are those at the height of their economic usefulness, namely, two groups of brothers and sisters. At any moment in time primitive society consists of a productively functioning stratum of brother-sister fibers netted together by marriage ties, supporting a less productive but knowledge- and experiepce-bartering stratum above, and a totally dependent stratum below; the last being important not solely or primarily because of a vague, future material value, but because of a clear present value as a recruiting ground for the middle stratum. The strength of the society lies, fundamentally, not in the marriage knots of the network, or in the associational imbrications, but in the ad- Pettitt: Primitive Education in North America 23 hesiveness of the brother-sister fibers. In a wandering, hunting type of society if the brother-sister fibers lose their adhesiveness or resiliency the social integument which gives cohesiveness to the whole is in danger of disintegrating, or at least of gaining no greater integration, regardless of whether gregariousness is or is not instinctive. This holds, for example, among peoples inhabiting the inland areas of Canada. Sibs may be visualized as superimposed stiffeners of the brother-sister social ties. One impulse toward the development of clans, perhaps a fundamental one, deriving again from the requirements of education, and concerned with the protection of brother-sister group rights to names, will be outlined in a later section. It is scarcely necessary to list evidences of the strong brother-sister relationship in primitive society. Casual visitors have noted it in tribes throughout America. It is, after all not a curious or unexpected phenomenon, and prevails in our own civilization. The influence of close association during the early, impressionable years of childhood, the many occasions on which a boy is given an opportunity to exhibit his personality in protection of a younger sister, or a girl her personality by mother- ing a younger brother, make the relationship inevitable, particularly because it is almost universally fostered by parents. The difference is that the brother-sister relationship is more formalized on the primitive level; it is deliberately developed in the teaching of the children; and it is recognized and perpetuated by social sanctions. The high development of brother-sister relationships among the simpler cultures of North America indicates that it is not a peculiarity induced by clan organization, for it is well-defined among the Eskimo and other peoples where the clan is either unknown or developed in a rudimentary way. The strongest development of the brother-sister ties seems to occur among the Ojibwa. The misbehavior of an Ojibwa woman is a source of such shame to her brother that he may leave the territory;' and a man who so misbehaves himself that he brings shame on his sisters may commit suicide.'M Very interesting as a comment on cross-cousin marriage is the fact that among the Ojibwa a brother and sister show their esteem for each other by contracting marriages between their children while these children are still infants.' A boy knows that the faster he develops into a hunter the more reason his sister will have for respecting him; she in turn is taught to show her respect for him, and he reciprocates by calling her "Little Mother." While he is learning to hunt he brings his bag to his sister and she plays wife by doing the skinning and dressing. She is stimulated to learn adult skills by "doing for" her brother; and in return she has the privilege of sharing in all the glories that he may win. Even after marriage a brother continues to bring a share of his catch to his sister.'0 Kohl relates the story of an Ojibwa girl who had developed an acquaintance with a young Sioux which was ripening into love. The girl learned, however, that her brother had been killed in a war expedition in some distant place, apparently by the Sioux; so she enticed her unsuspecting loved one into the woods and gave herself to him in order to gain opportunity to put a knife into his back and scalp him.' The privileged relationship between a boy and his mother's brother is an exten- sion perhaps of the relationship between his mother and her brother. The sister is expected to obey her brother usually, though on occasion, as among the Crow, a sister may pick a wife for her brother and even force him to divorce one she does not like.'0 In some areas, reminiscent of the avunculate, a sister may demand any of her 3 Landes, 1937, p. 122. T8 Tanner, pp. 112 ff. I, Landes, 1938, p. 38. 40 Ibid., pp. 13-14. 41 Kohl, p. 127. 42Lowie, 1911, p. 214. 24 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. brother's possessions and he must give them to her. This also works in reverse.' At times, the strength of the brother-sister relationship is greater than that of mother-daughter. Swanton records that among the Choctaw a mother disciplined her son and he was so shamed by this uncouth behavior on her part that he com- mitted suicide; whereupon his sister was so enraged that she killed the mother." Among many tribes a suitor for the hand of a woman approaches the brother first, becomes friendly with him, or offers him presents, or attempts to do him services. Among the Eskimo,' and perhaps others, this held for widows as well as maidens. Brothers also feel responsible for the behavior of a sister after marriage and see that she makes a good wife. They also take pains to see that a sister's husband treats her well. If a young girl has an illegitimate child, her brother is immediately concerned for usually it is he who forces the name of the father out of her and tries to bring about a marriage, or it is he who is expected to take care of the child, or, curiously enough, as among the IHopi,' a girl excuses her indiscretions by stating that she did it in order to be able to give a child to her brothers. Evidence from many areas supports the view that a brother is the man expected to support a widow and her children. Social pressure tends to make this responsi- bility obligatory. In other words, strong sentimental attachment plays an important part in a brother's solicitude for his sister, his interest in the man she marries, and his concern for her children, as well as in the reciprocal behavior of the sister toward her brother and his children.' But the sentimental attachment is powerfully sup- ported by a realization on the part of a brother that if by any chance his sister's family meets with disaster, family and social pressure generally will place upon him the burden of feeding and sheltering her and her children. It is to his advan- tage, specifically, to see that his sister's children are properly trained, and that everything possible is done that they may develop into well-behaved, productive, and socially responsible individuals. Summary It was pointed out in a previous section that the salient characteristic of primitive disciplinary procedures for children, in the area studied, is the relegation-of them to some agency outside of the immediate parent-child group. The evidence cited shows that the mother's brother and the father's sister play an important role as mentors and disciplinarians, nmd that this role is in fact a basic way in which the avunculate relationship expresses itself. Finally, it is indicated that the role of the mother's brother and the father's sister toward their nephews and nieces is a reflection of the strong responsibilities which the mother's brother and the father's sister assume toward the mother and the father; in other words, that the brother- sister relationship is far reaching in its effects. 43Good examples of this are found among the Mandan: Maximilian, p. 281, and among the Haida: Murdock, p. 368. " Swanton, 1931, P. 105. " Jenness, 1936, p. 159. " E. and P. Beaglehole, pp. 59-60. 4 Relatively the relationship between two brothers is vague and ill-defined. Murdock, p. 771. An older brother sometimes served as instructor for a younger, but after maturity the relationship seemed to play a less important role fop the continent as a whole, with, of course, some limited exceptions. Pettitt: Primitive Education in North America 25 IV. DISCIPLINE REFERRED TO THE SUPERNATURAL IN THE SUMMARY of Section II, the statement was made that the significant features of primitive practices, at least as far as North America is concerned, were a univer- sal tendency to refer discipline, or the authority for it, to some outside individual, group, or agency and a reliance upon the supernatural as the ultimate reference. Religion, broadly defined, has been recognized in the cultures of all primitive peoples of which we have record. In all writings on the training of primitive child- ren, religious education is given specific attention. Training in religion, and the moral code customarily linked with it, are the only two phases of primitive educa- tion in North America that have been dignified by separate treatment.' However, not until definitions were recast on a broader framework were the beliefs and prac- tices of many primitive groups relating to the supernatural accepted as true re- ligions, and it is extremely doubtful whether many of these primitives recognized religion as a separate entity until the basis of discrimination was pointed out to them by classification-minded Europeans. Some commentators have maintained that primitives lacked ability to make categorical differentiations between the spir- itual and the mundane. That point is of no interest here, although it seems most plausible that failure to discriminate indicated a lack of interest in a nonessential philosophical nicety rather than a lack of ability to conceptualize the difference. Our concern here is with the fact that these primitive peoples did not put religious and other types of education into separate pedagogical cubbyholes. All things, actually or potentially, had supernatural attributes, and knowledge of the super- natural was imparted to the young child along with the natural, much as we include reading of script as part of the process of learning to read from a printed page. Attempts to differentiate religious from other types of training on the primitive level inject a distinction provocative of misconceptions. Spencer, in his study of Pueblo education,' divides education into industrial, moral, and religious, but at the same time he recognizes that the division is wholly artificial because religious ideas were all-pervasive. It is necessary to recognize the fact that religious thinking supplied the matrix for primitive culture, in order to appreciate the significance of the supernatural as a disciplinary force. As pointed out by Jensen' in discussing modern child psychol- ogy: "The mysterious power of a deity fits in nicely with the child's need of expla- nations of the many phenomena about him.... The child, having many unexplained questions, falls readily in with the adult in accepting supernatural explanations." Blachowski,' confirming the work of a number of other scholars, points out that magical thinking is still a potent factor in the activities of Polish children. Aldrich' accepts Jung's statement: "Except as an intuitive judge of character, the child is decidedly uncritical and undiscriminating; not only are the most fantastic tales and explanations of natural phenomena swallowed whole, but the child actually prefers a mythical explanation to a scientific one." According to the findings of Dresslar,6 even a college education in this modern era does not eliminate acceptance of superstitions. 1 Stevenson, 1883; Swift, 1927; Nichols, 1930. Of specialized studies noted for peoples outside of North America, one concerns religion: Mead, 1932; the other, arts and crafts: Quick, 1935. 2Spencer, pp. 74 ff. sJensen, pp. 402-403. 4Blachowski, 1937, pp. 347-361. 'Aldrich, p. 132. 6 Dresslar, 1907. 26 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. In the light of this and other evidence, it is apparent that primitive peoples in their teaching of supernatural beliefs and practices were not merely transmitting an existing part of the culture, but were utilizing, without conscious design, a pro- cedure which lent readier acceptance and greater effectiveness to the entire teaching program. It may be suggested that anxiety over the development of successive gen- erations of children, and the demand created by the ever-present child mind, served as continuing stimuli for the formulation of supernatural concepts, and for their elaboration. Reference will be made to this fact again, both in this section and later, for the reliance on the supernatural bears on the subject of mythology and folklore generally. There is little doubt that by creating an illusion of reality for the supernatural, primitive teachers made available an effective edueational instrumentality. This is particularly true with respect to discipline and to coercion toward a desired be- havior. A supernatural agency has the power to detect transgressions even when they are successfully concealed from other human beings. Modern studies of delin- quency indicate the efficacy of such surveillance. "It is usVally not so much the thought of how severe the punishment may be that deters a potential offender, as the thought that some kind of reckoning will ensue. Mere detection and intervention by the authorities are enough. Probability of detection is what counts most; it is the police who deter."7 In primitive society a numberless force of supernaturals who see all and know all performs a police function. In its simplest form, the supernatural agency in primitive discipline is merely a spirit, of irascible disposition, which is always lurking around in its cloak of invisi- bility ready to pounce upon the juvenile delinquent. This spirit may represent some ancestor, or a bird, beast, or reptile the natural appearance or behavior of which lends credence to its ostensible- disciplinary role. It may be some partly human or totally inhuman monster. In both cases, almost invariably, the child is made familiar with the hair-raising exploits of the spirit by constantly retold imaginative stories. Credence is further induced by accounting for injuries and misadventures which the child experiences, as provoked' by the spirit in direct punishment or as a warning. The commonest disciplinary spirit in North America seems to be the Owl. Threats to call the Owl, or warnings that it will kidnap, or peck out the eyes, or otherwise visit misfortune on'bad children, are used by parents from the simple hunting peoples of Canada to the more complex cultures of the Northwest Coast, the Southeast, and the Southwest. Turner reports for the Naskapi that even the adults feared owls and regarded them as bad spirits.8 The Ojibwa made use of the Owl, particularly in winter, to keep restless children quiet.' In chastening the tempestu- ous child, another group of this tribe frequently referred to the Owl, and to a curious spirit representing the heavy, cruel paw of a bear, hence called "Bear Paw."'10 The Huron and the Wyandot told their children stories and sang them songs about the Owl, and when necessary the children were pointedly reminded of these stories and songs.' The Menomini had a similar practice.' Implications, at least, for the Southeast in general, along this same line, are found in Swanton's statement -that the screech owl is particularly dangerous for young children. Even to hear a screech owl at night means death for some child under seven years.'l Swanton adds that there were also pygmies in the woods who seized children, especially wandering boys. Among the Sioux, bad children are in danger of being kidnaped by Old Owl." Among the Thompson, the Owl was elabo- 7Harrison and Grant, p. 4. ' Barbeau, p. 256. 8 Turner, p. 273. '"Skinner, 1913a, p. 41. a Densmore, p. 58. I Swanton, 1931, p. 198. Jenness, 1935, p. 95. 4 Eastman, C. A. 1902, p. 9. Pettitt: Primitive Education in North America 27 rated upon by being equipped with a basket full of snakes and bugs in which to carry away children.' The Flathead and the Sanpoil appeal to the Owl, as well as other spirits, for disciplinary support.' Most interesting of all cases is that of the Pueblo, where despite many highly elaborated disciplinary spirits, the Owl still holds an important place in the ordi- nary household. Parsons says: Once at Cochiti I had seen a three year old child bury his head in his mother's lap, panic-stricken at the hoot of the owl she had imitated. She was mimicking for my benefit, for I had asked her what a mother would do to scare her child into being good. That the owl will kidnap a refractory or a crying child, or, the more common version, that the owl will pick out its eyes is, I have been at some pains to make sure, a widespread Pueblo threat."' Parsons adds that the Navaho shared this practice, and cites Boas for its occurrence among the Nass River peoples of the Northwest Coast. The Pueblo peoples, as well as the Caddo and the Navaho, called upon the Snake Spirit for help. Lefthanded, the son of Old Man Hat, a Navaho, recalls vividly the impression made upon him by a narrow escape from a rattlesnake bite after frequent warnings from his parents that this would happen if he persisted in making string figures during the summer months." The Luiseiio warned bad children that the Snake or the Spider would come to bite them. "The disobedient and the heedless will be bitten by the rattle- snake or spider, they will vomit blood, swell up, go lame, fall into a wasting cough; their eyes will granulate; their children will be sickly."' Many other types of fear-producing supernaturals occur from place to place. The Eskimo look on ghosts as friendly disciplinarians," but the Polar Bear Spirit is a fearsome disciplinarian among the Copper Eskimo.' On the other hand, ghosts are very dangerous for bad children elsewhere. Parents in the Puget Sound region warned that ghosts would come out of the graveyard, even while confidentially admitting that it was not true, but was said merely to frighten the children." Sho- shone children fear ghosts so strongly that youngsters of school age have hysterics if someone says "dzo'ap" (ghost) in their presence.' Cannibal spirits are encoun- tered in widely scattered areas, chiefly among the Ojibwa and adjoining peoples, but also among the Pomo where the Water Monster, another common disciplinarian, had a cannibal-dragon brother,' and among the Paiute, where a mythological can- nibal giant was mentioned to encourage good behavior.' Sometimes prestige was gained by encountering one of these fear-producing monsters. This is true especially of girls, whom these monsters are in the habit of raping; the "Brush Men" of the far-northern Kutchin," are another example, as are a variety of mythological beings among the Pueblo. The cannibal spirits of the Ojibwa and other peoples of southeastern Canada illustrate strikingly how the natural supports the supernatural. Winters in this area are especially hard and food is scarce. Starvation is frequent and cannibalism, though looked upon with horror, is reported by many observers, and is confirmed by native history and legend, not only in the North Algonkian area, but also through- 15Teit, 1900, p. 308. " Flathead: Turney-High, p. 75; Sanpoil: Ray, 1932, p. 131. 17 Parsons, 1916c. "I Dyk, p. 214. 19 Kroeber, 1925, p. 683. 20 StefAnsson, 1913, p. 398. " Jeness, 1936, p. .193. "Haeberlin and Gunther, 1930, p. 54. 28 Lowie, 1909, p. 227. " Loeb, 1926, p. 303. "Steward, 1933, p. 291. "Osgood, 1936, p. 158. 28 University of California Pub lications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. out the North Athabaskan area. Instances are recorded of babies surviving such famines through gnawing the breasts of a dead mother. Parents have been known to eat their children, and men, their hunting companions. The frequency of such occurrences, and their imminence at all times, plus an apparently natural revulsion against the practice, has led to definite social sanctions. A person who yields to the temptation of anthropophagy in the face of starvation gains life at the cost of social ostracism. The natives account for cannibalism as a result of possession by a cannibal spirit, "Windigo." Once having been possessed, an individual is believed to be exceedingly susceptible to subsequent attacks, hence is avoided and treated as a pariah. One early traveler in Salteaux territory records meeting a man and a woman reputed to be "Weendigo." He says: The Weendigoes are looked upon with superstitious dread and horror by all Indians, and any one known to have eaten human flesh is shunned by the rest; as it is supposed that, having once tasted it, they would do so again had they an opportunity. They are obliged, therefore, to make their lodges at some distance from the rest of the tribe, and the children are particulaxly kept out of their way.-" With this reality to give credence to the Windigo Spirit, it is understandable that the threat of the Windigo is a powerful coercive force among the children. The Rev. Guinard' states that among the Tete-de-Boule the Windigo or Witiko, also known as the Kokotshe and Atshen, is made so real by the ostensible evidences of his activity that even the elders will speak his name only in the lowest of whispers. His natural appearance is described thus: no lips, enormous crooked teeth, and eyes rolling in blood; feet a yard long with one toe on each, and bear's claws in place of fingernails. One whisper to a child that he is making so much noise Kokotshe will hear him brings instantaneous silence accompanied by trembling. Among the Parry Islands Ojibwa,' children are particularly warned against being gluttonous for the Windigo Spirit will certainly get them later. The Windigo is their most dreaded supernatural. Additional examples of supernatural beings utilized by the North American In- dians for disciplinary purposes could be cited. The examples given, however, indi- cate the variety of forms which they assume, and more pertinently, the general distribution of the idea throughout all the major cultural areas of the continent. It may be concluded, if the usual relationship between spread and age holds good, that the supernatural as disciplinarian is a concept of considerable antiquity in primitive culture. On the basis of that conclusion certain interesting relationships, or apparent relationships, will be pointed out between the simple idea of disci- plinary supernaturals and the more restricted occurrence of face masks and secret societies. THE USE OF MASKS FOR DISCIPLINARY PURPOSES Reference has already been made in this section to the stimulus toward elaboration of educational devices which we would expect to flow from the constant recurrence of the child-training problem in societies only slightly institutionalized toward this end. Every aberrant or "problem" child, for whom customary practices seemed somewhat inadequate, would be a challenge to the ingenuity of those upon whom responsibility for his socialization fell. Such children would create a demand for more elaborate and convincing proofs of the veracity of traditions and of the reality of the sanctions supporting them. Where spontaneously occurring proofs, as with the Windigo Spirit, were lacking, the Indian, being human, seems to have bolstered the illusion of reality by artificially supplied stage settings. In distant Africa, the Kane, p. 60. 2 Guinard, p. 69. Jenness, 1935, pp. 40-41. Pettitt: Primitive Education in North America 29 Yao, when sanctions are added to desirable codes of behavior, say that transgressors will be attacked and devoured by ever-watchful lions, verisimilitude is given to the threat, at the moment that the boy swears by the lion, through having a good mimic give vent to a blood-curdling, realistic roar, immediately outside of the dark- ened hut.' The same tendency to utilize dramatization seems to occur widely in North America. Mention has been made of the Owl Spirit. Owls, of course, may be seen frequently in many parts of the country, and they have an appearance sufficiently distinct from the majority of birds to support their special reputation in the folklore of super- naturals. But owls are not always present when needed most, and we can readily understand the desirability of having "stand-ins" available. There is much evidence to indicate that this idea occurred to the Indians. The Ojibwael not only used the Owl as a threat to keep children indoors at night, but they carved owl shapes of bark, mounted them on sticks and stuck them in the ground where overly bold youngsters would see them the momeAt they put foot out of the lodge. The same type of mimicry was practiced to give reality to the Bear Paw Spirit. At a psychological moment, probably at the end of a lecture or story involving this spirit, the blanket over the door of the lodge would be slowly raised and in the half-gloom a paw would appear and wave about. The children, of course, were greatly impressed because they could not see that it was only an old moccasin on the end of a stick wielded by some old man, a friend of the family. Similar spirit representatives, in the form of scare- crows, were frequently installed near cliffs and other places where it was unde- sirable for the children to play. The Parry Island Ojibwa also hung replicas of the Owl outside their wigwams at night to hold the children in check.' Among the Menomini," "babies who cry at night are ducked, and the older little ones are frightened by being told that the Owl will steal them or are shown an image to frighten them and make them stop their noise." Among the Ojibwa these owl replicas are described as masklike, but they were not commonly worn as masks. Navaho parents hung replicas of owls in their hogans in order to subdue the children at night.8' A comparable materialization of spirits was practiced by the Sioux.' Mothers attempted to frighten children into good behavior by saying, "Well, wait a bit and I will tell a ghost to come and carry you off." And to lend point to this, some persons who had dreamed of ghosts would be asked to draw one on a skin and it would be held up before the child. On purely logical grounds we would expect to find that the tendency toward dramatization, uniting with the desire to refer discipline to outsiders and a reali- zation of the efficacy of the supernatural as an ultimate reference, would lead to the disguising of tribal disciplinarians, and to the designing of disguises in forms reminiscent or directly representative of supernatural agencies. Whether true masks would develop from symbolic representations such as those already described, or whether they would develop directly from attempts at disguise, cannot be defi- nitely determined. In any event, disguise of disciplinarians, and reference of disciplinary authority to supernaturals, seem to have been factors in the de- velopment of masks and masking. Among the Ojibwa, where replicas of the Owl and the Bear Paw Spirit served to keep children indoors, and scarecrows were "0 Heckel, p. 22. 31 Densmore, pp. 58-59. 82 Jenness, 1935, p. 95. "3 Skinner, 1913a, p. 41. "4Parsons, 1916c, pp. 338-347. "6 J. 0. Dorsey, 1889, p. 486. 30 University of California Pub lications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. used to keep them away from dangerous places, the idea of disguising a living figure in a reminiscently supernatural way also occurs. "If the children were reluc- tant to leave their play in the summer evenings, a man wearing a mask went among them. He was called the frightener, and the purpose of his visit was to make the children go home and to bed. He wore ragged clothes and walked with a cane."' Children were taught that it was good to be afraid of this visitor but not good to show fear in a hysterical manner. Specific terms existed in the language for the actor and for the mask he wore. A somewhat similar embryonic development of masks and disguises, occurring among the Ojibwa, is indicated by the anecdote collected by Jenness from the native informant Jonas King: In one of our camps the children had been too noisy, so a relative of mine slipped away into the woods soon after dark, put on his oldest clothes, stuffed them with leaves and grass, blacked his hands and face, covered his face with an Owl mask, and leaped into the circle around the campfire crying "kokoko." All the grownups joined in the shouting and explained why the Owl had eome.'7 The children were frightened off to bed. Among the Copper Eskimo certain shamans are believed to have the power of transforming themselves into polar bears, and they appear in the guise of this animal or its spirit for the purpose of visiting children and assuring them they will eat them if not instantly obeyed.'M Boas reports that the Central Eskimo make use of masked figures during the annual Se5lna ceremony,' just as do the Eskimo of Hudson Bay, and that everyone professes great fear of these figures, which are finally driven away in a sham battle. As one function of these maAked personages was to give each man and woman a new mate for a night of fun and frolic, and also in view of the sham battle, it seems plausible that the fear was merely assumed in a ceremonial way, and the only individuals actually "bamboozled" were the children. Confirmation of this idea is offered by Curtis in discussion of the midwinter cere- mony of the Nunivak Eskimo.'0 On the thirteenth morning a grotesquely masked figure appears and young children are held out to it as if to give them up. Not until they are screaming with terror are they snatched back. Concerning the Flathead, the following may be cited: There is also a clear tradition of a systematic frightening of naughty children by a personage called Spotted Face. Whether this individual was a specific bogey-man or just a member of the family is hard to tell. He had one of his arms painted black and the other red, and he was armed with a red stick, with which he would threaten to impale a refractory child. His faee was made hideous by a mask of hide, horribly painted with livid spots."n For the Wishram, on the borderlands of the Northwest Coast, we find: Cannibal women figure in the folktales. It cannot -be said that these were entities of the same sort as the spirits, but inasmuch as they are spoken of in everyday life, they were something more tangible than mere actors of the myths. At! At! a'Zia was a huge striped ogress, represented in a mask used to frighten children, as having an ugly face, big eyes and ears, and said to have been striped like her children. She stole human children which she devoured.'0 Among the Sanpoil, in the same general area, the following is reported: When a child was guilty of serious misconduct it was told that "the old man from up the river" was coming down. The parents secretly notified the old man that locally acted as disciplinarian, who soon appeared disguised and wearing a large robe.... If the child cried, it was lashed more. When the old man finished ... he said: "Now if you are not good the other man from up the river will come down and he is much stronger than I am. He'll whip you harder !P" lw Densmore, p. 59. 40 Curtis, 1907-1930, vol. 20. ' Jenness, 1935, p. 95. "Turney-High, p. 75. Idemn, 1936, p. 193. "Spier and Sapir, p. 237. Boas, 1884, pp. 605-606. "Ray, 1932, p. 131. Pettitt: Primitive Education in North America 31 Incidentally, as mentioned once before, the parents stood around advising their erring children how to minimize the punishment. The significant fact implied by these examples of supernatural representations and disguises and masks is that they exist for no given reason other than that of disciplining or coercing children. There is no evidence connecting them with socie- ties, secret or otherwise. Webster" believes that masks are an accessory of secret societies and he cites the presence of masks among the Eskimo as evidence of the probable presence of secret societies in that area earlier. There is little question that secret societies are almost invariably accompanied by masking or disguising. Loeb' speaks of masks as an almost invariable accompaniment of secret societies, for the purpose of inspiring awe and keeping secret the membership of the society. Kroeber also says: "Hand in hand with secret societies in many parts of the world goes the use of masks and disguises, both traits springing from the same impulse toward concealment."' There are two ways of accounting for the isolated examples of masklike represen- tations, true masks, and disguises cited in the preceding pages. On the one hand, they may have been borrowed from peoples having secret societies contemporane- ously or anciently, or, on the other hand, they may have been invented independ- ently. In either way the stimulus has been unquestionably the utility of such devices in lending reality to the ultimate reference in child discipline-the supernatural; for that is the use to which they were put. Even where secret societies exist, the disciplinary function of the masks and disguises is continually apparent. It would be a serious mistake to infer that secret societies continue to exist only for disciplinary purposes. Loeb points out that such societies tend to take on many functions, but he believes that initiation is the origi- nal one and that they derive from secret tribal initiations.'7 This is in harmony with the disciplinary purpose stressed in this section. In addition, the pleasure derived from participation in dramatic affairs is probably a potent factor in maintaining and developing such societies. An interesting example of the way masked disciplinarians and societies may asso- ciate is afforded by Harrington in his discussion of the religion and ceremonies of the Lenape or Delaware.' The Lenape, apparently, had no well-developed secret societies, but they did have a supernatural being known as the Living Solid Face, in some respects resembling the spirit behind the Iroquois False Face Society, who was represented by a masked figure. This deity, as Harrington calls him, was be- lieved to be the guardian of children and game animals. In preparation for the annual midwinter festival an impersonator of this M71si'ngw" went from village to village and house to house wearing a wooden mask with copper eyes and a crooked nose. At this time parents took occasion to frighten all disobedient children, saying that if they didn't behave MWisingw' would carry them away in a sack filled with snakes. As elsewhere, the parents posed as friends of the children and attempted to bribe the visiting spirits with gifts of tobacco. The similarity to Pueblo practices is particularly strong. At the same time parents did not hesitate to call in the M'sitngw' for special visits if they had a child who was weak, sickly, or disobedient. "On his arrival it does not take the impersonator long to frighten the weakness, sickness, or laziness out of such children, so that 'afterward they are well and strong, and whenever they are told to do a thing, they lose no time in obeying."'49 These masked figures, apparently, took only a subsidiary part, if any, in tribal "Webster, p. 221. 47 Loeb, 1929, p. 286. "Loeb, 1929, p. 286. " Harrington, 1921, pp. 152-156. IKroeber, 1925, p. 364. a Ibid., p. 156. 32 University of California Pub licatians in Am. Arch. and Ethn. ceremonies, functioning briefly as clowns and then disappearing. But the owners of the masks did form a kind of society, and protected people against disease.' That these masks were not recently borrowed is indicated by the fact that long-past migrations of the Lenape, according to Harrington, can be traced by archaeological recovery of characteristic examples.5' From Harrington's description it would seem that discipline and care of children is the principal function of these imper- sonators of the supernatural. At this point it is of interest to note that the much-discussed, age-graded societies of the Plains, in some instances, took over disciplinary functions and utilized masks for this purpose. The Blackfoot Ugly-Horn Society, for example, provided two of its leaders with hoodlike masks, fringed at the bottom and decorated with white-rimmed, circular holes for eyes and mouth. "In their annual summer dance the leaders went about inside the circle of tipis, frightening children into good behavior."52 In the California area true masks are unknown, but Kroeber lists a number of ways of assuming disguise, such as putting on heavy coats of paint, or wearing face curtains of feathers, down, grass, or shredded rushes." The Yuki impressed youngsters going through the ghost ceremony by stuffing their cheeks with grass, putting twigs in the nostrils and bending them to catch inside the lower lip, covering the head with a wig of leaves, and painting themselves liberally.' Similarly, Kroeber says of the Pomo ghost ceremony performers: " [they] frequently conducted them- selves in as terrifying a manner as possible, and it scarcely seems open to doubt that in a measure they attempted to instil fear into non-members."' The Kuksu cult or secret society was maintained by representatives of eight or ten different language stocks in northern and central California. Kroeber points out that' societal ceremonies seem to become an -end in themselves or just a benefit to the world at large, without particular stress on initiation; nevertheless the natives seem to be clearer about the educational purpose of the initiation than about the other purposes of the ceremonies.' The testimony of other observers would indicate that initiation looms up "almost as if it were the chief function of the bodies."' Kroeber also observes that the educational function of cult societies seems to be more apparent in the simple ones than in highly complex organizations that have taken on many functions. The Hill Maidu explicitly recognize the disciplinary purpose of the Kuksu cult. In fact the origin myth states that the mythical hero Wononi originated the Kuksu cult for that purpose, and public pressure is brought on all boys to be initiated, although they are sometimes reluctant because of vague fears deriving from exag- gerated horror stories told to them earlier." The inland Pomo recognized Kuksu as the guardian of the well-being of the people, but more especially of the children.' The Pomo Kuksu performers were masked and painted grotesquely, some wearing on their heads baskets lined with wet clay in which fires were built to emit clouds of smoke and curtains of flame as the performers gyrated. Bad children too young to be initiated were nevertheless brought to these performers for a good scare; and children with a bad reputation knew that they were in for it when they could no longer put off the initiation. The performers would drop hot coals in the hands of such boys and make them double up their fists and squeeze the coal. If the boy I0 Ibid., p. 159. 56 Ibid., p. 383 . 51 Ibid., p. 38. 57 Ibid., pp. 383-384. .a Curtis, 1907-1930, 18:190. 68 Ibid., p. 858. "3 Kroeber, 1925, p. 364 " Loeb, 1933, p. 165. 54 Ibid., p. 185. ' Idem, 1926, pp. 367 ff. 65rIbid., pp. 367-368. Pettitt: Primitive Education in North America 33 weakened before the end he was thrown out and had to start all over at the next ceremony.6' There is reason to believe that much of the disciplinary effect of societies and initiations generally is gained indirectly through spreading knowledge of such activities as this. More will be said of this later. The role of the masked figure as impersonator of the supernatural disciplinarian is nowhere better demonstrated than among the Pueblo Indians, despite the fact that the social and religious ceremonies in which these characters participate have at the same time taken on many complex functions. As Bunzel points out,' the most popular and most important masked society of the Pueblo is the Katcina Society. The Katcinas are known to all Pueblo groups with the possible exception of Taos, and reach their greatest development among the Zuni and the Hopi. Every boy is expected to become a Kateina, and the Kateinas are the terrestrial repre- sentatives of the Koko gods, denizens of a lake bottom, who control the clouds and rain and general welfare of the people and at the same time represent the Pueblo dead. According to Zuni tradition, the Koko originated from a group of children lost to the tribe through sin. Long ago it was their custom to return to earth periodically to dance, but whenever they did so, many deaths occurred; so permis- sion was obtained to substitute impersonators, the Katcinas, to dance for them. As would be expected from the origin legend, the Katcinas, in addition to their many other specific and general responsibilities, are protectors, caretakers, and discipli- narians of children. There is an aura of mystery surrounding all the Kateinas. Their masks are holy and the wearers partake of this holiness while wearing them. Aside from the fact that all male children, and some female, pass through two initiations, including ceremonial whippings in which the authority is exercised by the Koko gods through their proxies the Kateinas, the children are further impressed with the importance of the Katcinas on every possible occasion. At Laguna the boys receive their first bow and arrows, and the girls their first dolls, as well as subsequent presents, at the hands of the Katcinas. The parents supply the materials or make the presents and pass them to the Katcinas secretly for presentation to the children at the next ceremonial." The dolls, incidentally, are representations of the Kateinas. Among the Hopi the same custom is noted, and whenever a child asks for some toy or other object the parents explain that the Katcinas will bring it if the child is good. At the next ceremony, by prearrangement, a Katcina dances up and miraculously produces the desired article. Then the parents say: "Now you see when you are good you get what you want."' Stephen says of the Hopi, The very young children ... are made to believe that these gifts are from those superhuman, mysterious beings.... A little lad about five or six years old was beseeching his father for a bow and arrow, so the father said to him: "Perhaps if you will go to the shrine and pray to the Kachinas who are here today, they may bring you what you desire.""5 If a parent overhears a spontaneous prayer of this type from the lips of a youngster he quietly makes arrangements to have the Katcinas grant it." Similar practices are reported at Acoma,7 and may be accepted as quite general in the area. But the Katcinas also have their sinister side. Just as they reward good children so they punish bad children. And their reputation in this regard is built up with e1 Ibid., pp. 346 ff. 82 Bunzel, 1929, pp. 843-845, 899-902. "8 Parsons, 1919a, p. 36. 84 Idem, 1921, p. 103. a Stephen, p. 363. e* Ibid., p. 387. 67 White, 1929, p. 131. 34 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. equal intensity and effectiveness, by many horror myths and legends of what hap- pened to children who bro'ught down the wrath of the Koko gods. Children avoid looking at many of the masked dancers, not because their masks excite horror, but because of the legends they have heard; other masks, however, are deliberately made horrible and are known as "scare masks."' A note of sinister reality exists in the myths concerning these supernatural disciplinarians. Parsons69 and Curtis,70 as well as others, state that there seems to be considerable evidence that in the not far-distant past children were sacrificed at the annual ceremonies of the Pueblos, and that children of bad reputation could count on being chosen. This lends a special factual note to the stories, comparable to that detected in the Windigo stories of Canada. Moreover, the legends prove themselves. Bunzel reports that even though the adults know the men under the masks, they have a vague fear of the power they wield. Instances are recorded where disobedient children were fright- ened by the Katcinas, and the Koko actually carried them off. In other words, they died in a hysteria of fear.' Certain of the Katcinas were recognized as primarily and specifically carriers of the disciplinary power of the Koko gods. Curiously enough, just as among the Delaware, two thousand miles away, these disciplinarians are also clowns. They are reported for the Hopi, the Zu-ni, the Keres, the Tewa, Isleta, and Taos.' In harmony with the custom mentioned for other areas in North America, the parents, even though they may secretly ask for the help of the supernatural disciplinarians, range themselves on the side of the children when the discipline is about to be administered. At Zufni, Parsons reports,8 the dominant role of disciplinarian is carried by six masked figures known as the A'doshle, si'x masked figures known as the wives of the A'doshle, six masked figures known as the Suuke, and sizx masked wives of the Suuke. All are actually men. The A'doshle have bulging eyes, pro- truding teeth, and a mat of tangled hair. The husband of each pair carries a huge knife with which to cut off heads, and the wife bears a huge basket in which to carry off children and a large crooked stick with which to catch them. At the time of the annual ceremony they make a perfunctory dance and then begin to search for bad children, of whom they have, presumably, been notified in advance. The parents of the bad children make apparently herculean effort_s to repel the terrible A'doshle. They barricade the door of the house, and beat drums and pans. In recent years they have carried the mummery to the point of firing guns over the heads of the A'doshle. But all this is of no avail. The A'doshle are supernaturals. They break through the barricade-thereby demonstrating to the children that punishment for misbehavior is as inevitable as the rising of the sun. The old woman with the crooked stick puts it around bad girls and drags them over to a metate to grind them up. The old man whirls his knife in the face of bad boys. There is a threat in reserve that they will eat up bad children. They go so far as to bite the child in the neck. The elders of the family add to the dramatic effect by evincing great fear them- selves. To demonstrate further that this discipline comes from outside, the A'doshle frequently lecture the parents, sometimes seriously if one happens to be lazy or otherwise remiss. Only when the visiting disciplinarians have been bought off with presents of meat and meal will they consent to forego more drastic punishment. Meanwhile the shouting has been listened to by neighboring children from the darkest corners of their respective homes. 08 Bunzel, 1929, pp. 857-858. Parsons, 1916c, pp. 344 ff. * Parsons, 1916c, p. 346. 70 Curtis, 1907-1930, 16:44. 71 Bunzel, 1929, pp. 936-937. 72Parsons and Beals, table 1. Pettitt: Primitive Education in North America 35 Just as the Ojibwa put up scarecrows in places where children were not supposed to go, so the Hopi ascribes lurking Koko disciplinarians to forbidden areas.7' It is a prevailing practice to tell children that Shuyuku lives in the fire, and does not like to be poked. When Shuyuku makes his visit he confirms this. At Tewa the equivalent Katcina bogeyman is Tsabiyui, and he has ears in the vicinity of the fireplace. A parent wishing to give emphasis to a suggestion speaks casually of Tsabiyu and threatens to knock for him on the wall near the fire.' Instances are also reported of the entire pueblo seeking to disavow responsibility for discipline meted out by the Katcinas. Steward states that when the masked disciplinarians Dii'mas and Dunwup appeared at Hopi, the Katcina chief osten- tatiously objected to their entering the village. He explained in a loud voice that even though the children were bad he was sure that they could be taken care of without help from the Koko. As usual his protests were of no avail, but he did gain one advantage for the children. He persuaded the avenging Kateinas to surrender their heavy willow whips and substitute lighter yucca switches.' Masked disciplinarians of the Pueblo type also function among the Navaho.' These masked figures whip bad boys, and threaten to carry them away in sacks to be baked in a hole in the ground and eaten. They also cut off the heads of bad boys, eat their brains, and give their hair to medicine men. Matthews reports also,' in connection with the Navaho Night Chant ceremony, that one of the masked imper- sonators of a supernatural goes about challenging spectators, presumably young- sters, to foot races. He is himself an excellent runner, and if the one challenged has not kept himself in good trim, as is demanded by custom, he is outstripped in the race and promptly subjected to a beating. Before leaving the Southwest area it is pertinent to remark that, contrary to the usual generalizations on the Apollonian character of the Pueblo peoples, in treat- ment of children as in other reactions, they have one of the most effectively evolved discipline systems based on supernatural fear in North America. We may say that they feel less urge to apply discipline directly, chiefly because they have referred more of it to the ultimate authority. It is not alone specific Katcinas who have disciplinary influence; they all participate. Children are told by their elders that Kateinas bring gifts only to those whose footsteps the Kateinas have observed about the mesa at dawn, to those who rise early and are industrious ... The total effect of this precept and example is realistically to support the authority of the elders in their economic and general education of the young.79 Even without the house-to-house visits that the disciplinary Katcinas make, there would still be a strong coercive influence arising from the fright which they seek to instill as a group during initiations. As early as the child is able to recognize anything he is subject to the impressive dramatic dances coming regularly the year round. To him, of course, the performance is undertaken by supernaturals. The unmistakable moral derived from all these is that they will be angry over any misbehavior. When he is initiated into one of the dancing societies, he is whipped as a sign of purification.80 While the Indian from almost infancy looks upon any exhibition of feeling when undergoing physical suffering as most cowardly and unmanly, the severity of the pain inflicted by the yucca switches in this ceremony is at times such as to force tears from the eyes of the little ones.8 74 Idem, 1921, pp. 103-104. 75Idemrn, 1924, p. 150. 76 Steward, 1931. 77Dyk, pp. 34-36. 78 Matthews, pp. 25-26. 79 Beaglehole, p. 20. 8' Li An-che, p. 72. la Stevenson, 1883, p. 551. 36 University of California Pub lications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. There is little reason to doubt that the severity of this punishment varies with the regard in which the individual juvenile victim is held. No youngster not yet initi- ated is quite able to free himself from anticipatory misapprehensions that the initiation will be worse than it really is, in fact will live up to all the stories and rumors that he hears. There seems to be some reason to presume that the ordeal of initiation is sub- consciously elaborated upon not for the purpose of visiting more hardships upon those undergoing initiation, but for the purpose of impressing those not yet initiated. Much of the apparent torture, the death and resurrection features com- mon elsewhere, are put on as stage play with the connivance of the initiate. This is strongly noticeable in the complex cultures of the Northwest Coast, where the direct action of masked figures appears to be largely limited to initiation ceremonies and to the novices. Frequently the natives claim that their purpose is to obfuscate the women and keep them in their place. It is more reasonablel to assume that the women know more than tradition permits them to reveal, and that they are playing just as important a part in the drama as the men. The men are the central actors, to be sure, but the women function as extras who do their acting as ostensible members of the audience. They are closest to the young children, and the children will more readily become fearful if the women show fear also. The same trick is still used in modern drama. If someone is planted in the audience to scream at the psychological moment a tense situation on the stage can be tremendously heightened in its effect on the entire audience. As White says concerning the Katcinas of the Pueblo of Santo Domingo :' "Women and children are never told that the masked dancers are the men of the pueblo. They are supposed to believe they are real gods. The children do believe this, and the women pretend to." Again, at Cochiti, Gold- frank says :' "Theoretically none of the women of the village knows that it is their men and boys who- represent the supernaturals at the masked dances, but in reality very few are ignorant." More explicitly still, Bunzel says of the Zufni: "Girls are ordinarily told the secrets of the Katcina cult by their fathers when they are thought to have reached the age of discretio~n."" This type of dramatic technique appears to'be highly developed in the Northwest Coast area. Curtis' says that Nootka Secret Society initiations start with a dra- matically built-up tradition that at a certain age children will be spirited away and killed by the supernaturals and it is only through efforts of friends that they can be brought back to the village alive. The mother, although she knows full well what has happened, sets up a terrific screaming. In some cases the warriors may even tear up the whole villagein a futile search for the lost boy, and start out on a vengeance party. Then it is discovered that the supernaturals have been at work. The boy is seen in a canoe filled with masked figures at some distance from the shore. Surreptitiously the boy slips over the side of the canoe and a dummy is put in his place. This dummy is immediately hacked to pieces in full sight of the village, but at too great a distance to make the substitution apparent. The boy clings to the side of the canoe out of sight until close enough to the shore to dive under water, swim in and enter a tunnel which leads to the dance house. There he remains hidden until the time arrives to bring him miraculously back to life. Certainly the supposed victim of this initiation is under no delusions about his decease. Neither is it likely that any other adults are actually fooled, though they may rationalize the whole process as a necessary tangible reproduction of a spiritually real event. The only ones for whom the drama is absolutely real in a sensory way are the children. 82 White, 1935, p. 101. 84 Bunzel, 1929, pp. 874-875. 8S Goldfrank, p. 57. 8 Curtis, 1907-1930, 11:69-80. Pettitt: Primitive Education in North America 37 Similarly, Curtis" describes how a Kwakiutl father may instruct his son to precipi- tate a precocious initiation by deliberately putting himself in the path of a masked impersonator of the supernatural, allowing himself to be knocked down, and then feigning death. He adds: "Many of the uninitiated actually believed, in such cases, that Pahdfaqalanbilsiwi had really snatched away a victim." To heighten the illusion of death some initiates would be equipped with a false abdomen and at an appropriate moment this false front would be ripped open with a knife and intes- tines borrowed from a seal would slither realistically to the ground.87 Innumerable instances of the same type could be cited, but never is there any contention that the person being initiated actually believes what purports to happen, even though he may be consumed with fear that at any moment, if he does not behave, the play- acting will degenerate into realism. On occasion, long fasting or a slip up in technique does lead to the unsought demise of the central character in the play. Even where the death and resurrection feature did not occur, as among the more peripheral Quinault, the initiate was sworn to secrecy and persuaded to support the tradition that the secret society killed and ate people, by running out of the ceremonial house with his arms cut and bleeding, and skewers of bone thrust through his arms and cheeks. The central idea was to impress the audience. If anyone smiled, he would have his lips stretched in a most painful fashion or be gashed and punctured with skewers. The fear excited in the audience was given further reality by occasional killings while the society members were in their frenzy.' A similar concern with the effect of initiation rites on spectators, as distinct from initiates, is typical of many central California tribes. Among the Pomo, in the Ghost Society initiation, the ceremonial firetender went through the motions of burning the candidate, but did not actually do so unless the boy was notorious for his misbehavior. The effect was generally to impress spectators.89 In the Kuksu initiation of the Coast Pomo, the initiates were kept at a distance from the assembled villagers, and the masked figures charged upon them with flint-tipped spears. To all appearances they were transfixed, and verisimilitude was given to the act by instructing the boys to drop to the ground as if dead. Then their supposedly lifeless bodies were hidden away to be brought back to life later.9' A similar effect was gained by lining up the neophytes in front of masked archers, then suddenly extinguishing the fires and letting fly with arrows which struck stretched buckskin hides with a realistic sound. When the fires blazed up the neophytes were revealed lying on the ground.9" A frequent accompaniment of such initiations was the cap- ture of the neophytes by the masked figures while the womenfolk of the family wailed vociferously. The effect of this byplay was more lasting if not more intense on those children too young to be captured than it was on those actually seized. It cannot be maintained that the grief of the women was deliberately simulated, but certainly it was culturally conditioned as the accepted behavior in this situation. It should be reiterated here that in stressing this aspect of tribal or societal initiation there is no intention of making it the primary, or the dominant, factor. Ceremonial activities can be an end in themselves for the participants, and they lend themselves to rationalization on many grounds. All that we can say is that the effectiveness of supernaturally referred discipline on all children in the group is a "6 Ibid., 10:162. 87 Ibid., p. 210. 98 Olson, 1936, p. 121. 89 Loeb, 1926, p. 346. 90 Ibid., p. 358. 91 Ibid., p. 363. 38 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. stimulus not to be ignored in accounting for many features of tribal and societal ceremonies involving initiation and masks and disguises. Undoubtedly, extensive training is given to boys during the course of initiations. It is frequently implied that the purpose of the ordeals and fear-inspiring ceremonies is to impress upon the memories of the initiates such instruction as is given at the time. It is also said quite positively that a youth is suddenly transformed from a juvenile stranger to an adult member of society by initiation. I believe that such generalizations receive greater acceptance than is merited. Relative to the whole course of a youth's training, the practical value of the training given during initiation has frequently been exaggerated. That there is training on many subjects cannot be denied, even though it may be limited to a few days or weeks before, after, or during the initiation. That some of it gains impressiveness by the surrounding circumstances is also obvious. But the knowledge gained is chiefly concerned with the activities of the society itself, or the functioning of the tribal ceremony. The initiate is relieved of his illusions concerning the super- natural society, and at the same time burdened with a strongly sanctioned respon- sibility to maintain those illusions in the minds of those who have not yet been initiated. He does not immediately become a-full-fledged actor in the drama of life or an independent functionary in its practical aspects. He is just allowed to come behind the curtain while the scenes are being shifted and the actors made up. He usually undergoes considerably more instruction before he joins in ceremonies without restraint. His recognition as a mature member of society does not come until he has demonstrated his economic as well as his biologic productiveness. Initiation is just one step in the process, and it is suggested here that the seeming importance of this step is increased by the fact that much theatrical activity pri- marily for the benefit of younger children has been hung on this convenient peg. Many of the primitive peoples in North America did not have formal initiations or puberty ceremonies for boys, or organizations classifiable as secret societies. If we wished to hazard a guess why secret initiations and the use of masks did not arise or diffuse more consistently we would have to give consideration to the vision quest or guardian-spirit search which is characteristic of large areas. Although it is true that the vision quest can unite with ceremonial initiations, as in the Southeast, or in the Toloache rite of southern California, and even with the use of masks, as on the Northwest Coast, it seems safe to say that the presence of one tends to minimize the need for or acceptability of the- other. It is perhaps significant in this respect that among the Lummi on the fringes of the Northwest Coast, in addition to the formalized societies for the recognition of spirit songs gained by methods clearly related to the vision quest, there is also a fear-inspiring society called Xunxan'ital which restricts initiation to those who through negligence or inability have failed to find a guardian spirit, though others may join by invitation. The society gains respect and promotes fear by acting as a restraint on shamans and people possessing spirit power. It kills those who make malevolent use of supernatural power by impaling them on a spear from the rectum to the mouth. If a youth, to the con- sternation of his family, shows no signs of the inner light that follows spiritual experience, his parents secretly notify the Xunxan'ital. At the next potlatch cere- mony, the members, effectively disguised by black paint, suddenly rush into the crowd. All boys exhibit fright, run as fast as they can, and seek a hiding place. But the Xunxan'ital pursue the designated victims, and seizing them by the hair, lift them from the ground and shake them until they "get religion" and go limp in self-defense.' '2 Stern, p. 86. Pettitt: Primitive Education in North America 39 In the tribal initiations of the Southeast, it seems quite clear that some aspect of the vision quest clings to the initiatory ordeal. Fasting and drugging are carried to a point where the victims go out of their minds or even die. The situation is even more severe than that imposed by the Toloache rite of southern California, where Jimson weed, a virulent poison,' was administered to the boys to stimulate dreams and visions. Swanton' states that the husquenawing rite was most stringent among the southeastern Algonkians and Siouans, but also occurred elsewhere in the area. From descriptions given by others of the state of exhaustion and madness to which the youngsters were reduced, it scarcely seems likely that much instruction could have been given during or immediately after the ordeal.' The only society initiations which actually seem to place heavy stress on instruc- tion about life and general behavior, as well as about activities of the society itself, during the course of the initiation, or rather series of initiations, are some in California and those of the Midewiwin or Medicine Lodge of the northern Plains and Great Lakes area. Densmore says that the Ojibwa Midewiwin had a simple but sound code of ethics; that members were taught to be moderate in speech and quiet in manner. There were eight degrees or ranks, and each was accompanied by instruction, in part moral, in part herbalistic. Scrolls of birchbark with colored mnemonic signs on them were used by the teachers as lecture notes." Some of these scrolls were fifteen feet long and twenty inches wide. Within the limits of this study it is impossible to exhaust completely the subject of initiations and secret societies. However, there do not seem to be any facts unmen- tioned which would contravene the thesis here developed. Summary This section indicates that reference of discipline or the authority behind it to supernatural agencies is a widespread and fundamental trait of primitive peoples in North America. The evidence cited shows that the tendency to produce tangible proof of supernatural participation in discipline is quite common, and that replicas of supernatural beings, masks, and disguises occur without relation to secret societies. It is shown that where masked societies exist the disciplinary function of the supernaturals impersonated is an important one. Attention is called to the fact that the disciplinary influence of masked figures is not only directly upon the individual child and upon initiates, but also upon the children of the tribe as a group; and that initiation ceremonies are aimed at the younger children, with the help of the women, almost if not fully as pointedly as at those being initiated. In the above three sections on discipline the chief purpose is to indicate that the generalization on lack of discipline in primitive society is more apparent than true. "8 See California Department of Public Health Bulletin, December 31, 1938. In the summer of 1931 a harvest cook accidentally gathered a few leaves of Jimson weed along with spinach from the garden. Immediately after eating, fourteen of the twenty-one men at table suddenly collapsed, were deathly ill, and suffered from delirium. The symptoms are due to powerful alkaloids, stramonium, and atropine. " Swanton, 1924-1925c, p. 698. 9" Brickell, pp. 405-406; Pickett, p. 106; and Hendren, p. 51. "m Densmore, pp. 86-88. 40 University of Californija Pub lications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. V. IMITATION VERSUS STIMULATED LEARNING NEXT TO THE GENERALIZATION on laxity of discipline, the most commnonly accepted attribute of primitive education seems to be the dominance of imitatioii. Ploss says: Man sieht es gern, wenn die Kleinen friihzeitig die Verrichtungen und Neigungen der Erwachsenen nachahmen.... Durch pine solche Erziehung, oder vielmehr durch den Mangel an aller Erziehung, wird in den Kinderhi ein unbiindiger, stirrischer Sinn herangebildet. Dieselben zeichnen sich friihzeitig ebenso durch Ungehorsam gegen ihre Eltern, als durch Ziigellosigkeit und Uebermuth gegen ihre Altersgenossen aust More recently Parsons said: "Imitation, both unconscious and conscious, is par excellence the educational method of the family. It is plain that a considerable part of the adaptation of living beings to their environment, i.e., of beings that are born plastic, is passed on from generation to generation through imitation."2 Todd' says that self-teaching is almost the entire process of education among the simplest peoples, and that the advance to directed imitation is a sign of higher economic status and greater stability of parental and familial relations. He arrives at this conclusion after pointing out that primitives lack textbooks or schoolhouses. Evans says: "It is noteworthy that the vocational training given to the children of primi- tive races is based for the most part on imitation."' He adds that there are three stages of imitation: unconscious; conscious flowing from temporary interest; and conscious and deliberate imitation. Of these, apes achieve the second, and primitives all three, to a large extent through the medium of play. Spencer5 says that imitation is the most important factor in Pueblo education, though not a spontaneous one except in early years; and because he accepts generalizations about the dominance of imitation in primitive education, he adds that the Pueblo seem to be an exception in the amount of direction given to imitation; it approaches but does not equal the apprentice method; it is rather a "preapprentice" method. In most writings, especially in recent years, the generalization that primitives make greater use of imitation than do present-day civilizations seems to be accepted almost without thought, and such facts as fail to harmonize are offered either with- out conmment or as exceptions.6 It seems to me that a rather superficial observation has been given greater significance than it actually deserves. There is no question that children, along with the young of other genera of ani- mals, have a strongly functional imitative faculty. However, there is no reason to attribute a greater genetic development of this faculty to primitives, no one having demonstrated their making a quantitatively greater use of imitation. As soon as we begin to speak of "conscious" or "directed" imitation, as well as "unconscious" or "spontaneous" imitation, the question arises how much of our modern edu- cational program can be eliminated from the classification of "directed" imitation. A greater proportion of the culture of a primitive society is within direct reach of the. sensory organs of the primitive child, to be sure, but it does not follow that the quantity represented by that proportion is any greater. The crux of the misunder- standing seems to derive from the fact that the adult life of primitive societies exhibits few if any activities not familiar to all children by direct observation or audition, and not adumbrated in their play or other juvenile occupations. The 1 Ploss, pp. 337-338. Ploss adds, p. 339, that the Eskimo are an example of people living exactly as animals do, the mothers cleaning the noses of their offspring by licking them, etc. 2 Parsons, 1906, p. 91. 9 Todd, p. 182. ' Evans, p. 23. 5Spencer, pp. 76-77. The epitome on this subject, of course, was offered by G. Tarde in Les lois de l'imitation, 1890. Pettitt: Primitive Education in North America 41 plausibility of concluding from this that imitation is the dominant educative process is strengthened by the additional fact that in our society we leave almost all play and juvenile occupations to imitation, or, at least, we differentiate them from serious preparation for life, because that responsibility has been largely surrendered to a school system. It is necessary to remember that there is no school system in primitive society, so that play and other activities, which in our society may be random, are handled otherwise on the primitive level. More accurately, we might say that primi- tive adults concerned themselves more exclusively with activities that children found fun in imitating. Hunting and fishing are not merely ways of making a liveli- hood; witness the sale of hunting and fishing licenses at the present time. To illustrate the thesis of this section, we may consider the process by which American Indian boys learned to use the bow and arrow, and examine the play of girls with dolls. All observers have commented on archery, for boys, and playing house, for girls, as salient examples of the dominance of imitative play in primitive education. That these activities were recreational is beyond question, but that they were carried on as spontaneous uncontrolled imitations, either of adults or of slightly older juveniles, is hardly supported by the facts. There seems to be no direct and unequivocal statment anywhere in the literature on primitives of North America to the effect that a child got a bow and arrow or a doll only when it had developed a spontaneous desire for one or the other and proceeded by imitative methods to make and use it. In a few instances, such as among the Sanpoil,' refer- ence is made to girls manufacturing their own dolls, but it does not say how old they were or how they learned to do it. Steward records a Paiute biography in which a recognizedly successful man makes particular note of the fact that as a boy he made his own bows and arrows.8 He does not say he made his first bow and arrows, or how he learned to make them. Lyon says that the Eskimo boys made their own bows and arrows,9 but prefaces the statement by saying, "The fathers make little toys, play with, and are constantly giving them whatever assistance lies in their power." Chief White Horse Eagle of the Osage is reported as saying that Indian boys made their own bows and arrows before the age of seven, but since the author of this work also claims that the Chief could read Egyptian hieroglyphics, thereby demonstrating a former connection between the Americas and Africa, we may discount his testimony.'0 Also, the statement is made of the Snohomish that the boys manufactured the bows and arrows which they used in competitive games,' but elsewhere it is mentioned that dolls were made for girls by their mothers, and fathers made miniature canoes for the boys.' Aside from these equivocal statements, all testimony supports the conclusion that implements and toys were presented to the children by elders, along with instruction in their use. The best commentary on the function of imitation is the following list of forty- eight references to the use of bows and arrows and dolls. Yavapai: Small child's bow made by father or older boy. Had target shooting. Gifford, 1936, p. 301. Tiibatulabal: [Autobiography.] Mention of father making first bow and of learning to hunt very early. Voe- gelin, p. 223. Havasupai: Given bow, by grandparent perhaps, and taught use, because hunting important. Spier, 1928, pp. 323-324. 7Ray, 1932, p. 166. 8 Steward, 1934, p. 425. 9Lyon, p. 356. 10 Von Schmidt-Pauli, p. 41. 11 Haeberlin and Gunther, 1930, p. 65. 12 Ibid., p. 48. 42 University of California Pubb;', -_ in Am. Arch. and Ethn. Ptueblo: Imitative play consciously directed. Girls given dolls which are replicas of the Koko gods. Spencer, p. 77. Laguna: Parents ask Katcinas to make bow and arrows for boy, and dolls for girl. Parsons, 1919a, p. 36. Hopi: The Katcinas give bows and arrows to boys, and dolls to girls. Idem, 1921, p. 103. Members of kiva spend days in making dolls, etc., to give to children at next ceremony. Steward, 1931. Every morning fathers took boys out for bow and arrow practice. E. and A. Beaglehole, p. 17. Tusayan: Manufacture of Katcina dolls for children a regular part of ceremonial preparation. Fewkes, p. 286. Navaho: [Autobiography.] Mother piade three bows for him and it was not until those wore out that father made a good one for him of oak. Dyk, p. 71. Shawnee: Bow and arrow games were encouraged by old men of the tribe. Alford, p. 22. Choctaw: Children were carefully drilled in the use of the bow. Cushman, p. 369. Cherokee: At four or five years of age boys are attempting to make bows and arrows under supervision of elders or older brothers. Mooney and Olbrechts, p. 1;28. Blackfoot: Elders spent time making toy lodges and whistles for children. McClintock, p. 431. [Long Lance.] Mother made him his first bow and arrow and an imitation scalp lock of horse- hair. Buffalo Child, p. 30. [Story of Smoking Star.] Grandfather made him a bow when six years old, told him to bring in everything killed as proof. Wissler, 1922b. Crow: Pretty Shield had miniature tipi and doll made by aunt. She put up her toy tipi while big one going up. Was encouraged to race and to win. Linderman, 1932, p. 27. Aleek-chea-ahoosh mentions in life story that father made first bow, and grandfather placed buffalo chips for him to shoot. At seven he was given first sharp arrows. Iden, 1930, pp. 13-18. [Story of Takes-the-Pipe.] Stepfather made him bow and taught him to shoot at early age. Lowie, 1922b. Oto: Father gave informant bow and arrows and taught him how to use them. Whitnan, p. 9. Sioux: Bow and arrows one of first presents and boy is taught to use them. Fanny Kelly, p. 183. Boy's first lesson is shooting with bow. Given blunt arrows first, then pointed, then larger, heavier bows as his pull strengthens. Brisbin, p. 109. Standing Bear in life story recalls that bow from father was about first gift he received. Proud of it because it was painted to show high standing of his father. Father taught him how to hold it. Luther Standing Bear, 1931, p. 9. [Chief Runs-the-Enemy.] "First thing I remember is ... father made me a bow .., and taught me how to use it." J. K. Dixon, p. 62. "Knowledge of use of bow is one of earliest teachings . . . sometimes even it is taught to girls." Larimer, p. 76. Black Elk reealls his grandfather made him first bow when he was five. In the biography he later identifies that relative as one who made his bow. Neihardt, pp. 18, 50. Plains in general: First plaything a miniature bow given child as early as four years by proud father. Mothers make and dress dolls for girls. Dodge, pp. 190, 415. Hidatsa: [Narrative of Wolf-Chief.] He mentions that at fourteen he was carrying bow and arrows made by father. Good ones. Wilson, 1924, p. 162. FPb: [Autobiography.] Recalls that when about seven wanted mother to make new doll clothes, but mother refused, saying girls learned to sew that way. Michelson, 1918, p. 297. Pettitt: Primitive Education in North America 43 Cheyenne: Mothers made rag dolls: men, women, boys and girls; when necessary made babies for the play family. Idem, 1932, p. 3. Assiniboine: As soon as child able to talk the father makes toy scraping tools for a girl, which mother teaches her to use, and a toy bow and arrows for a boy. As boy grows, father increases size of weapons, and also brings in unfledged birds for him to shoot at under coaching. Denig, p. 520. Cree: Parents encourage imitative play by proViding miniature articles of everyday use. Every boy at three has a tiny canoe paddle to suit his size. At six they are given bows and arrows. Flannery, 1936. Ojibwa: Boy's toys are manlike. His namesake discusses them with him, and his father calls him "My Little Trapper," and makes him bow and arrows. Landes, 1938, p. 11. Taught to handle bow and arrows at early age and shoot at marks, birds, and squirrels. Go with father as soon as able to hunt larger game. Jones, p. 64. Boy got toy bow at five to six years and given first lessons in hunting. A girl's dolls made by parents or elders in great variety. Densmore, p. 64. Northern Algonlcians: As soon as child walks, a bow and arrows put in his hand, and these grow progressively larger so he can hunt small game at eight to ten years. Blair, p. 77. Flathead: Mothers made a girl's first dolls, but later she made her own and was so proud of them she might keep them all her life. Turney-High, p. 76. Kutchin: Elders make simple dolls for girls, and miniature bows that really shoot, for boys, and boys are encouraged to kill something. Osgood, 1936, p. 95. Tanaino: Parents make little models of implements, and provide boy with bow, arrows, and spear, and girls with carved wooden dolls and playhouses just like real houses, in which fires may be built and cooking done. Iden, 1937, p. 124. Quinault: Small bows and blunt-pointed arrows of type used for hunting birds were made for boys, along with whistles like those used for elk calling. Olson, 1936, p. 42. Haida: Grandfather makes toys and plays with boy. Father makes model canoes, tiny totem pole, and bow and arrows, and takes boy on fishing and hunting trips until he is ten when uncle takes over. Murdock, pp. 357-361. Kialam: Fathers carve wooden dolls, women dress them. Father makes small canoe for boy; men take him fishing. Gunther, 1927, p. 238. Eskimo: First toy given a boy is a sled, and at earliest possible age his father teaches him how to use bow and arrows by setting snow figures of bears, foxes, etc., for boy to shoot at. Revillon, p. 39. As early as age of three or four years a father gives his son toy bird-darts, harpoons, ete., and sets him at practice. Nansen, pp. 155-156. Admiring relatives give ivory carvings of animals for miniature hunts. Boys receive small harpoons and bow and arrows. Hawkes, p. 113. Children encouraged to play at hunting, but only of those animals elders say are in season. Boys given bow and arrows as soon as they are able to use them. Curtis, 1907-1930, 20:141, 148. Girl encouraged to make dolls and to dress them, the mother showing her how to cut out the skins. Jenness, 1936, p. 170. Elders make intricate toys for children-birds that peck board on which they stand, mice that can be made to run in and out of a hole, and jointed dolls the heads of which can be moved by pulling a cord. Nelson, pp. 341-342. My conclusion drawn from the foregoing list is that the term "imitation" hardly does justice to the activities described. Particularly is this so if by "imitation" is meant spontaneous and undirected mimicry. If we stretch the term to mean directed 44 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. practice with models, it is questionable whether we are establishing a valid difference between primitive and modern education, as so many commentators have directly stated or tacity implied. Because the play of modern children no longer reflects so closely adult pursuits, this does not mean that modern children are less imitative than primitives or primitives more imitative than moderns. It would seem to mean, rather, that we have stopped directing play in harmony with activities of later life, perhaps because we subconsciously recognize the unhealthy or artificial nature of many adult pursuits, particularly those which parents would want to train their children to follow, in search of economic or social prestige. That primitive play, where it reflected adult pursuits, was to a large extent di- rected practice rather than merely imitation can be further substantiated by much evidence. Y;uma boys played warrior and went out on make-believe forays, but they did so under the leadership of older men. When they went out to attack hornets' nests they did so at the direction of the elders, and the village took cognizance of the trip and gave them a warrior's welcome when they returned. Sham battles were arranged as games by old warriors.' Iroquois boys are often described as having wandered in gangs playing at hunting or war, but sometimes older men went with them, and it was common practice for a boy to establish a close friendship with an older man in his father's clan who might assume responsibility for training him.1" Mention has already been made of Assiniboine fathers bringing unfledged birds to the lodge for a young son to practice on with his bow and arrow."5 Catlin, describing the games of the Mandan, says: One of the most pleasing is the sham fight and sham scalp dance of the Mandan boys, which is a part of their regular exercise, and constitutes a material branch of their education. During the pleasant mornings of the summer, the little boys between the ages of seven and fifteen are called out, to the number of several hundred, and being divided into two companies, each of which is headed by some experienced warrior, who leads them on in the character of a teacher; they are led out into the prairies at sunrise, where this curious discipline is taught them.'8 In these sham battles the boys used their miniature bows and blunt arrows and were equipped with false scalp locks of grass. And when they returned to the village, elders were never too busy to receive them and listen to their vauntings in the man- ner of older warriors. They performed scalp dances for an audience of girls, who acted their admiration just as the boys were acting their bravery. Eastman'7 relates observing a juvenile attack on a hornets' nest by the Sioux. An old warrior had found the nest and promptly informed the chief, who summoned the boys with nicely assumed gravity and gave them a speech of exhortation such as, on more serious occasions, he might give to warriors about to go against the enemy. Old men accompanied the boys, some of whom were hardly more than five, and stood in the background shouting encouragement to those for whom hornet stings on sensitive parts of the anatomy seemed good reason to retreat. When they returned to the village with eyes swollen shut and body in repousse they were made to feel tre- mendously proud by the applause of the population. Lowie" records this anecdote for the Crow: A boy was attempting to organize his fellows into a mock war party. The boy's father offered his help and had the town crier announce the projected foray as if it were to be a real one. The next day he went out with the boys. In the interim he' had planted a lifelike dummy at some "s Forde, p. 173. 14 Mead, 1937, section by B. II. Quain, p. 274. 15Denig, p. 520. "I Catlin, pp. 131-133. 17 Mary Eastman, pp. 50-51. 18 Lowie, 1922a, p. 435. - Pettitt: Primitive Education in North America 45 distance from the village with a knife in its hand and a real scalp tied to its head. The boys stalked, shot, and scalped this dummy, and the older men lent so much realism to the occasion that years later one of the younger boys confessed that he was convinced the dummy had chased them and that they had really killed a wan- dering enemy. White-Man-Runs-Him, a Crow, states that the boys followed the main band at some distance when camp was being moved and strove for minor adventures, such as killing a rabbit, because they knew that the elders would praise them for it, and that by making much of the boy who played the greatest role in the adventure, they could stimulate his parents to give them fine food.19 Plenty-Coups, another Crow, recalls that his grandfather used to think up games. One of the games was stripping down to moccasins and chasing butterflies, because each butterfly caught and pressed over the heart would contribute to the boy's strength.' We may admire the grandfather's perspicacity in getting the boys to exercise. Chief Buffalo Child Long Lance, in his life story,' states that the boys were so thoroughly informed about famous Blackfoot battles that whenever the site of one of these battles was passed by the migrating tribe the boys organized a mock war party and reenacted the historic event, using bows and blunt arrows and equipped with false scalp locks of horsehair provided by their mothers for the occasion. The elders took a keen interest in these forays and played their part in applauding and honoring the actors when they returned to camp. To turn to another area, Jenness reports that when seals are killed small Eskimo boys with knives are allowed to fall upon them and go through the motions of making the kill themselves. Then little girls are permitted to help in the skinning. The youngsters also help in distributing the meat.' One of the popular Eskimo games is driving miniature sleds. The sleds are provided by the father, along with harness, and the sled-dog puppies are turned over to the children. Such activity is, however, more than a recreation. It is recognized as the way to break dogs to harness.' Eskimo mothers begin exercising the arms of young infants in the motions of paddling so that they may acquire the art earlier, and they also encourage them to spear bits of meat at meal time.' Freuchen' relates a story illustrating the eager- ness of Eskimo parents to encourage hunting pursuits by young children. A three- year-old boy, Megusak, happened to sight a distant polar bear before anyone else saw it. He was praised mightily, and when the bear was killed a spear was put into his hands so that he could give it a poke, whereupon they praised him more. Among the Ojibwa, Landes reports,2' even the learning of relationship terms is not left to imitation. The mother selects the first animal she sees after a child is born, perhaps only a grasshopper or a mouse, as a relative for her child, building up a fictitious family through which the relationship terms are brought into use. A Crow, telling his life story, says that the women deliberately sought to encourage boys to imitate older and successful braves by extolling the virtues of the latter in the presence of the youngsters. One would say: "That young man on the white horse is Little Wolf." Another would comment: "He is brave, and so handsome." A third would say with awe: "Yes, and he has already counted coup and may marry when 19 J. K. Dixon, p. 131. 20 Linderman, 1930, P. 10. 2 Bufalo Child, pp. 29-31. 22 Jenness, 1936, pp. 114-115. 23 See: Hall, p. 220; Revillon, p. 38; Bilby, p. 120; Hutton, pp. 94-95. In the last-mentioned reference it is stated that parents give boys miniature dog whips when they are scarcely able to crawl in order to prepare them for puppy driving which trains both the boy and the dog. 24 Birket-Smith, p. 154. 23 Freuchen, p. 336. 26 Landes, 1938, p. 20. 46 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. he chooses." A fourth would exclaim: "Think of it, and he has seen but twenty snows," and she would convincingly put her hand over her mouth to indicate the great astonishment that she felt." As for basketry, O'Neale states2 that children played at weaving while the elders worked, but if any showed more than passing interest special instruction was given; baskets were started for the pupil, criticism was offered, and various techniques were demonstrated. The reference just cited is an excellent source of information on the complexity which a primitive craft could assume, and indicates clearly that imitation on the part of a child would hardly suffice to acquire the necessary knowl- edge. Sometimes, as with Yuma pottery makers, idle watchers were expressly for- bidden because it was considered bad luck, and imitative learning was therefore out of the question. Many references are made to the children of shamans being discouraged from imitating their parents because an older sibling had already begun to prepare for the profession and one in the family was considered sufficient. A somewhat similar instance in weaving is recorded by Reichard"' for the Navaho. At the age of six a young girl began to imitate the weaving activities of her mother, but was promptly stopped because her older sister had already adopted the profession and someone had to learn to do other things in the family, such as herd sheep. In this case, un- doubtedly exceptional, the girl secretly watched the weaving and then built herself a crude loom to practice on while out herding. The purpose of these references is not to disprove imitation; undoubtedly primi- tive children, like other children, imitated what they saw. Ohiyessa, a Sioux,' recalls that despite taboos the boys persisted in secretly playing Medicine Dance and imi- tating the Medicine Lodge initiations, including death and resurrection. The statement is made by Landese that the most complicated features of adult life were imitated in play, including midwifery, doctoring, and sending infant brothers and sisters on vision quests. She adds that Ojibwa shamans punished children for mim- icking them, and imitation of death or funerals was strictly forbidden, but the children did all of these things. A somewhat similar observation is made for the Indians of Puget SoundM with this exception, that the children were provided with special rattles for their game of "Shaman," of a type not used by real shamans. The conclusion is that imitation per se is not a primary feature of primitive edu- cation in North America, for wherever imitation was not desired it was deliberately discouraged and where desirable was fostered in so many ways that we would be exceedingly brash to classify it as imitation in contrast to more modern educational procedures. If the term "imitation" is retained, it is necessary to insist that "imita- tion" was taught and that it was, in its educational aspects, as much a development of training as is thespianism with us. To reach a better understanding of primitive education we must inquire why "imitative processes" appeared so dominant to early observers of primitive society and even to later students of the subject. One answer has already been indicated: the activities of adults were adaptable to the active play needs of children. But supplementary to and integrated with that answer is the fact that primitive society utilized a vast variety of psychologically acceptable methods of encouraging imita- tive play which would prepare for adult life. Some of these methods, involving Linderman, 1930, p. 8. 28 O'Neale, 1932, pp. 10-13. TM Rogers, p. 31. 0 Reichard, 1934, chap. vi, pp. 37-43. 0 C. A. Eastman, 1902, p. 70. 82Landes, 1938, p. 22. T0 Haeberlin and Gunther, 1930, p. 65. Pettitt: Primitive Education in North America 47 discipline, have already been covered. The rest can largely be classified in two categories: personality transference and social pressure. The first of these is sug- gested as a makeshift, catchall term for a number of different methods of supplying a child with a ready-made, prestige-saturated personality, transferred to it by in- heritance, gift, purchase, or spiritual process. This will be discussed in a subsequent section. Under social pressure may be included the manifold methods which primi- tive groups evolved to recognize ceremonially and collectively what is a culturally meritorious action or to condemn the reverse. One phase of this latter classification, that concerned with public recognition of the economic productivity of boys and girls, will also be dealt with separately. Other representative phases-praise and ridicule as incentives to learning, and the privileges of maturity-will be briefly described. PRAISE AS AN INCENTIVE A recent publication of the American Council on Education dealing with emotion and the educative process' states: "Self-interest should be so inextricably inter- associated with the welfare of the group that socially useful conduct inevitably becomes the road to personal satisfaction and self-expression. Then goals become clearer, life seems to have meaning, and behavior under varying circumstances does not arouse internal conflicts." In this same work it is indicated that a reacting audi- ence or environment, one that praises success or condemns failure, but particularly one that praises success, stimulates learning. Lack of reaction from the environment has the opposite effect.' Jensen says, in regard to the training of children, "If any practice is generally resulting in satisfaction, the practice will be continued. The use of artificial rewards or punishments merely carries out this idea; it is, in fact, a form of conditioning... Of the two methods, the reward is more effective....'". Unconsciously, primitive society seems to have arrived at the same conclusions. Commentators have partly realized this, and partly missed it. Millere speaks of the public recognition of the various steps in the socialization of the child, but goes astray by concluding: "The bulk of technical culture, that is, the ways of food get- ting, making of tools, clothing, shelter, and manipulation of the dreaded spirit environment is assimilated gradually on the power of the child's own natural im- pulses." Passing references to "honors bestowed on those who practiced the vir- tues,"8' and the like, are to be found here and there. Lowie remarks: "Primitive man wants, above all, to shine before his fellows; he craves praise and abhors the loss of 'face'."' Although the application of this statement to primitives alone visits an undeserved slight on civilized man, it does indicate the peculiar sensitivity of primi- tives in this regard-a sensitivity which may, perhaps, be accounted for by the educational processes outlined here, to a greater extent than by inherent psycho- logical differences. Margaret Mead in her intensive study of Manus children"' stressed the fact that every gain a child makes in acquiring independence and dexterity is noted and used as a new basis for further stimulation. Whole groups of busy men and women will stop to encourage a child's first step, but they ignore its first fall. The only way the child holds an audience is by doing things and trying again. A boy who has been ,allowed to steer the family canoe can get it into difficulties without arousing a " Prescott, p. 124. S6 Ibid., p. 124. 36 Jensen, p. 446. 37 Miller, p. 181. "8 Nichols, pp. 98-99. 39 Lowie, 1929, p. 156. 40 Mead, I Q30, pp. 26-30. 48 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. change of expression on his father's face, but the moment he succeeds in g,etting the canoe out of danger he receives an immediate word of approval. This same attitude, apparently, prevails throughout North America. Desired behavior in young boys and young girls is stimulated by systems of praise and reward which are often most highly developed. The effectiveness of this method of insuring compliance with cultural patterns is heightened by conditioning the youngster to praise and to ridicule almost from birth on, and by frequent utiliza- tion of the willingly given cooperation of the entire adult community. The signifi- cance of the system is deepened by socially recognized ladders of privilege up which the individual climbs by progressive achievement of the standard components of maturity; all of which are given public recog;nition through forms of etiquette, terms of address, titles, precedence in social gatherings, ceremonial homage, and styles of dress and adornment. It would hardly be accurate to claim that primitive society is unique in its atten- tion to praise, privilege, and prestige on a community basis, as a reward for the achievement of cultural pattern ideals; but it can be said, justifiably, that it is outstanding in this respect, and perhaps deserving of study for this reason, by societies where such practices are largely neglected. The following selected examples are offered, as a supplement to those already cited, to indicate the extent of the use of praise intraculturally and geographically in North America. Wissler says, in his story of Smoking Star,' that a child received ceremonial recognition for its first tooth, its first step, its first spoken words, and so on. Leforge, the white Crow, says: "My fathers and mothers by adoption were always the leaders in holding me up in a praiseworthy light when any act of mine gave the least ground for praise."' Lowie, in telling the story of Takes-the-Pipe," a Crow, mentions that in bow and arrow games the father was on hand to praise greatly when his son exhibited good marksmanship and won wagers. Incidentally, it should be mentioned here that competition for some kind of stake was almost universal in boys' games, and that this utilization of -a generally accepted stimulus to learning and achieve- ment by children may account, in part at least, for the popularity of gambling among adults. Regardless of whether we consider gambling to be an expression of some inherent trait, or purely an acquired proclivity, conditioning in childhood has an undoubted influence on its development. We may suggest that the wide use of wagers in juvenile activities was unconsciously supported by its efficacy as a pedagogical stimulus, and that there is a correlation of this with the almost patho- logical weakness for gambling found in the mature citizens of so many primitive societies of the area here surveyed. In a discussion of the social life of the Crow," Lowie reports that a father gave many feasts for his son, inviting in friends to make laudatory speeches and predict future success for the boy. When the lad returned from his first war party the father's clansmen gathered around to dance and sing laudatory songs. Hunter, a white boy raised by the Kansas and Osage, states that his foreign blood involved him in many fights with his Indian age-mates, but these contests were always conducted fairly and the victor uniformly received the praises and encouragement of the men; while the vanquished, if he had conducted himself bravely, was no less an object of their notice; if otherwise, he was neglected, and much pains were taken to shame and mortify him; nor would this conduct be relaxed in the slightest degree till he had retrieved his character.' 41 Wissler, 1922b, pp. 46 ff. "2Marquis, p. 164. 43 Lowie, 1922b. " Iden, 1911, pp. 201-202. " Hunter, p. 12. Pettitt: Primitive Education in North America 49 Whitman, speaking of the Oto,' records that ceremonies for a child began before the latter fully understood their significance, continuing until maturity on every occasion to impress and honor him as well as contribute to the prestige of the family. The honor was always public, that is, it was a concentration of extrafamilial atten- tion on the child. Thomas Wildcat Alford, a Shawnee, reports :' Children were taught that good conduct would earn a reward and evil conduct would bring sor- row ... a few words of praise from a parent or an elder was regarded as the highest prize that could be given for good conduct. A child would strive with all his might to win such praise while he would be indifferent to bodily punishment. One punishment that was always a bitter one to an Indian child was to have some of his faults told to a visitor or a friend. Among the Assiniboine, parents bought public praise for their children at inter- vals by a judicious distribution of gifts on their behalf.' Among the Ojibwa, "a boy's life is marked by constant and increasingly intense public recognition."'9 For the Flathead it is recorded that industry, bravery, and like virtues were pub- licly rewarded, and the lack of them publicly ridiculed, the latter being the strong- est informal social sanction.? In the Southeast, among the Natchez, it is said concerning the constant target shooting of the boys: "The one of these boys who knocks down the bunch of grass receives the reward of praise which an old man, who is always present, gives him. The one who shoots best is named the young warrior. The one who shoots less well, but who is almost as adroit, is named the apprentice warrior, etc."' In this same reference it is added that after warriors have ceremonially recounted their deeds and been applauded, boys are encouraged to recount deeds they expect to perform and are just as roundly praised as those who have already achieved them. Practices similar to those of the Natchez are reported for the Choctaw.52 In the Southwest, mention has already been made of the praising of boys for attacking hornets' nests. For the Hopi it is stated: "Loud is the applause from the parents and other onlookers when one of these infants bowls over the target [with his arrows] ."' Among the Zunli a child is ridiculed for being impolite, sulky, greedy, or unco6perative, and praised for every acceptable action, even that of observing the right etiquette and using correct terms of address on visiting.' Farther to the west, among the Dieguenio, a boy required to participate in a running ordeal does not do so unheralded and unsung. Crowds gather to watch, and if he does well his relatives are so pleased that they throw baskets to the crowd and the boy is dubbed a "high-bred man."5' In the Northwest, among the Wishram, there were proud celebrations over each of a boy's little successes.' Among the Nootka on Vancouver Island, the boys, in their evening play on the beach, frequently mimicked famous orators of the tribe and recited parts of legendary speeches before an audience of old men who pointed out this boy or that boy as destined to do great things.'7 The Eskimo5' carried the idea of praise for each little success to such lengths that a feast might be given for an eighteen-months-old child if his parents were caught in a storm and he was obliged to spend the night away from home. Similar recogni- tion and praise might also be given when a child accomplished the remarkable feat 46Whitman, p. 72. 53 Hough, p. 120. 47 Alford, pp. 19-21. 54 Mead, 1937, p. 338. 48 Denig, 1928-1929, pp. 414-415. 56 Waterman, 1910, p. 299. 49Landes, 1938, p. 13. 5'1 Spier and Sapir, p. 256. 50 Turney-High, p. 44. 57 Sproat, p. 63. 51 Swanton, 1911, pp. 87, 116. 58 Freuchen, pp. 243, 328. 52 Idemn, 1931, p. 124. 50 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. of wearing out his first pair of shoes. Additional examples of the use of praise among the Eskimo will be given in a subsequent section dealing with the recognition and encouragement of economic productivity. As might be expected among a people where the plant kingdom played almost no part in providing subsistence and the animal kingdom frequently failed to pay tribute to its ruling species, the Eskimo laid great stress on the early acquisition of hunting techniques. Were space available more could be said of the use of praise as an incentive to learning. However, the prevalence of this method of encouraging conformity and group allegiance has been attested by so many field observers that further comment is probably unnecessary. It can be safely affirmed that primitive pedagogy accepted as one of its unformulated axioms the efficacy of linking desired behavior with praise, preferably of a public and ceremonial character. This held for people of all ages; the desire to receive praise, and likewise willingness to give it in order to encourage reciprocity, were dominant characteristics of Indian society. They were particularly noticeable in the training of children, as will be further explained in subsequent pages. Where children were slow in providing an occasion on which they could be praised, it was not uncommon to find the occasion being artificially created. Reference has been made already to instances of this type. Others will appear later: of fathers withholding the coup de grace from stricken game in order that the untried hand of a young son might gain the right to praise by administer- ing it; or of uncles secretly putting game into the crudely set snares of a hopeful young hunter. In stressing the use of praise while seeming to neglect its frequent accompani- ment, ridicule, I am merely calling attention to the fact that praise seems to precede ridicule in the life of the Indian child, and take precedence in the reaction of the group toward the individual. In other words, an ego, like a balloon, must be inflated before it can be punctured, and must be patched and occasionally reinflated if it is to retain its vulnerability. If we accept this balance in favor of praise as a basic necessity it seems to throw light on the fact that ridicule is not used promiscuously by the primitives under consideration, but is generally reserved as the prerogative of specific individuals whose identity is determined by kinship, by occupancy of societal or public office, or by some other publicly recognized criterion. Therein, too, may be detected a contributing explanation of the almost psychopathological reaction of the primitive to seemingly inconsequential slights from an unsanctioned source. RIDICULE AS A DETERRENT AND AS AN INCENTrvE The use of ridicule as a means of social control is apparently world-wide in distribu- tion among primitive peoples.' For the American Indian, Wissler says: "The whole control of the local group in aboriginal days seems to have been exercised by ad- monition and mild ridicule instead of by force and punishment.' Mead confirms this: "The development in North- American children of an enormous sensitivity to the opinion of others seems to be fundamental for this culture area."' Many have commented on this characteristic with reference to individual tribes. The further generalization might here be added that the right to ridicule with impunity was generally limited. Otherwise, attempts at ridicule tend to end in catastrophe. Among the Iroquois: "If an antient Man should say to a young Man, by way of Reproach, before others, Thou Hast No Wit, he would presently go and poison him- self, they are so sensible of Ignominy and Disgrace."' Among the Ojibwa, to cite 69 Radin, 1926, pp. 50-51. 0 Wissler, 1922a, p. 189. e Mead, 1937, p. 494. "H Hennepin, p. 550. Pettitt: Primitive Education in North America 51 one other of many examples in the literature, a man committed murder because another made a slighting reference to his nose, even though he knew it was a most peculiar organ, it having been badly chewed in a brawl some years previously.' To indicate the contrast between sanctioned and unsanctioned ridicule, in the case of the Iroquois just cited, Morgan' points out that during the War Dance, most popular of all dances, a spectator could step forward and by making a gift to the dancers, receive permission to speak for two or three minutes on any subject he wished, in praise of himself, in censure of social transgressors in general, or in satirical vein on some individual in particular. No mention is made of any suicides as a result. In all cases where ridicule is mentioned in specific terms, the implication is that some particular person served as interlocutor or provocateur, unless action could be taken anonymously. A good example of anonymous ridicule is provided for the Blackfoot by Wissler. Caustic remarks about some individual were shouted at night from inside a tipi on the far side of the great camp circle and taken up in gleeful chorus by hundreds of voices until the air reverberated and the victim dared not show his face until he had accomplished some great deed to wipe out the disgrace.' Another example for the same tribe is offered by McClintock. An unpop- ular chief, whom, perhaps, no one dared ridicule to his face, would be treated to the ignominy, one dark night, of having a frightened colt, which had been given a sound whack on the hindquarters, headed into his lodge entrance." Among the recognized agents of ridicule, we frequently find the recognized dis- ciplinarians, particularly those who refer their authority in disciplinary matters to a supernatural source, the men in masks, who are often ceremonial clowns. Among the Maidu of California, the clown does not hesitate to mimic the most serious and awe-inspiring performances of the shaman, thereby ridiculing his dignity for the amusement of the crowd.' Steward, in a study of the clown in native North Amer- ica," states that ridiculing and burlesquing are the primary methods of the clowns, who, we should remember, are commonly identical with child disciplinarians, just as they are also commonly the ceremonial sergeants at arms. Others who frequently use the ridicule privilege in the social control of the activities of men are the women and girls, especially potential wives of the indi- vidual concerned. This is referred to for the Blackfoot." Again, if a Cree youth showed cowardice on a war party, his best girl composed derisive songs and sang them publicly.' Mandan and Hidatsa girls who had won distinction in feminine pursuits would ridicule young men of their age-class who had not yet won war honors.' In the same tribes, girls after marriage might twit their clan sisters who had brought a smaller bride price. Among the Pueblo, boys who went on hunting trips and came back without any game were jeered at and mocked by the girls. Most frequently, however, those who do the ridiculing are particular relatives or friends. As with other forms of disciplinary practice, it should be observed in passing, the tendency is to place the responsibility on someone outside of the imme- diate family group, leaving the most dangerous mockery to those with supernatural protection, the masked or disguised disciplinarians. The existence of such priv- ileged relatives, or occasionally, specific but unrelated persons, is so well marked as to call for a special term, "the joking relationship." No explicit identification of the joking relationship with ridicule as a form of social coercion and stimulus, or more I" Tanner, p. 175. 8 Steward, 1929, pp. 80-81. "4 Morgan, p. 258. " Buffalo Child, p. 114. " Wissler, 1911, p. 24. 7 Harmon, p. 308. "McClintock, p. 298. n Lowie, 1917, p. 43. ' Kroeber, 1925, p. 424. "Bandelier, p. 22. 52 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. pertinently, as an incentive to learning and achievement, has come to my attention. This may result from the fact that the comments passed between individuals having this relationship may be mild and seemingly harmless. It should be remembered that they gain their force from the previously acquired sensitivity of the individual, and from the publicity given. It is the chorus of snickers that greets the jest, and the allusions to it later, rather than the jest itself, that strikes home. Sometimes, as among the Crow, it was cousins who maintained this reciprocal function of joking about each other's faults.t' These cousins might be true cousins or simply clan cousins, that is, children of fathers belonging to the same clan, as among the Mandan and Hidatsae or the Haida.' A Mandan or Hidatsa boy who had just achieved a war honor might publicly give some other boy who was his joking relation a public, humiliating haircut, to stimulate him to do likewise by indicating that so far he was remiss. As a general rule the avunculate (pp. 17-18) carries with it a joking relationship between a boy and his mother's brother. "The brother of the youth's mother was privileged to admonish him severely and without pity, pointing out his shortcomings with sharp sarcasm and ridicule."76 This also held for the amitate, between an aunt and her niece, in some tribes. Reichard7 says that the joking relationship of the Navaho existed between mother's brother and his nephews and nieces, and between father's sister and nieces and nephews, but never between brother and sister. One of the most interesting developments of the use of ridicule appears among the Eskimo, where derisive songs, which play a minor role elsewhere, become a dominant feature. Among the Caribou Eskimo,tm insults which otherwise would lead to a killing could be made public with impunity, provided that they were couched in the form of a derisive song. But as the same author points out in dis- cussing the Iglulik Eskimo,'m it was not just anyone who composed derisive songs, but one's personal friend, that friend to whom one referred as "my song cousin." The effectiveness of this song dueling lay not simply in reciting calumnies, but rather in the accuracy with which the foibles of an opponent were depicted, and in the cleverness of the verse. The real object was not so much to insult an individual by what was said as to gain the support of the audience and to drown the victim in a flood of derisive laughter. On occasion, insult-song duelists belonged to different social groups, that is, to the Ducks or the Ptarmigans, consisting of the people born in summer and those born in winter, respectively.8' According to Birket-Smith the object of these contests is to make the other fellow realize that public opinion is against him. It is a form of punishment, though not consciously recognized as such." A man without children, and more certainly still, a woman without children, was likely to be the butt of derision.8' Even delay in marriage raises uncomplimentary implications concerning personal qualifications." In the Point Barrow region the individual is humiliated by the mere knowledge that he has been talked about in the men's house, even without specific information on what was said.8' 7S Lowie, 1922b, pp. 19, 21. 7"Lowie, 1917, pp. 42-43; also Wilson, 1917, p. 31, comments on this. 76 Murdock, p. 368. 76 Curtis, 1907-1930, 4:142. 7Reichard, 1928, pp. 72-73. 78 Rasmussen, 1929b, p. 74. 7P Idem, 1929a, pp. 231-233. 8f Bilby, pp. 241-243. 81 Birket-Smith, p. 55. 82 Gilbertson, quoting from F. Nansen, Eskimo Life, and W. Thalbitzer, A Phonetical Study of the Eskimo Language. "Rasmussen, 1908, p. 47. Nelson, p. 293. Pettitt: Primitive Education in North America 53 Consideration of available evidence-and the details we desire are always frag- mentarily recorded in the literature-seems to support the conclusion stated previously: that ridicule follows and supplements praise rather than vice versa. Praise is more frequently used at all age levels, and the ratio of praise to ridicule is relatively greatest at the younger ages. Aside from occasional references to the derisive mimicking of children who persistently cry, the major use of ridicule for youngsters appears to be associated with nicknames. A nickname calls attention to some peculiarity of appearance, behavior, or experience. It is public property, and even where its connotations are not especially derogatory, the child knows that the nickname is a mark of immaturity which can be overcome only by achievement. On his first war party a Blackfoot boy is certain to receive a ridiculous name which will stick with him until he wins war honors.'M In fact ridicule is a strongly empha- sized aspect of war training. Warriors seek to mock the neophyte by treating him as a girl, or by playing jokes on him, or making him a servant.' Ridicule is both a deterrent and a stimulant. The possibility of arousing it deters from antisocial behavior, but when aroused it becomes an incentive for achievement. Primitive society, like the proverbial elephant, does not easily forget. Its memory must be deliberately wiped clean by an achievement of moment. Public favor must be won back by positive action. The aberrant extreme to which this may go is best illustrated by tribes of the Northwest Coast, where the individual takes vigorous steps to wipe out the disgrace of events which make him a potential butt even though they are accidental in nature, and regardless of any indication of a public intention to use them as a basis of ridicule. THE PRIivna.as OF MATURITy Another aspect of the process of socialization of the individual on the primitive level which indicates how little is actually left to spontaneous imitation is that of associating definite privileges with the various achievements which in sum are a measure of maturity. Students of primitive education have evinced considerable curiosity on the subject of the age of learning, that is, the age at which specific skills or bodies of knowledge are imparted to the primitive youth. Observations accumulated during the course of this study seem to indicate that the only definite, universally recognized physiological correlate with any stage of 1barning is the first menstrual period for girls. Even in such cases the puberty ceremony is not always observed, or is given tardily or prematurely, and the amount of learning engaged in may be small. The onset of menstruation is not invariably correlated with chronological age or with a definite stage of physical development or physical vigor.8' The basic criterion of maturity, among North American Indians, seems to have been productive achievement. Boys and girls tended to learn new skills and to take on new responsibilities just as soon as they demonstrated their ability to handle them. Initiation might come when there was general consensus that the individual had passed the babbling stage and was able to keep a secret. Actual recognition as a full-fledged member of society, however, depended on ability to handle the responsibilities of such membership, to cook, prepare game, and cure skins, perhaps, for girls; to draw a long bow and kill the largest game, for boys. For both sexes the final degree was not granted before mar- Wissler, 1911, p. 17. 8 See: Linderman, 1930, pp. 120-122; Tanner, p. 122; Barrett, p. 187; Swanton, 1924a, p. 426; Wissler, 1922b, p. 50. In many instances the first and even later war parties engaged in by a young man are equivalent to an initiation; see Opler, 1938, pp. 11-14. 87 For comments on the difficulty of determining adolescence the reader is referred to Rauth and Furfey; and Orampton, 1904. 54 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. riage and the birth of children. Mead' has called attention to what she believes is a variation in the rate at which children are brought to maturity. Competitive soci- eties, she believes, tend to hurry their children to maturity, whereas cooperatives, with the exception of the Zuiii and the Dakota, do not. I am inclined to believe that the rapidity with which boys reach maturii,y-nds to be determined primarily by the nature of the tasks associated with maturity and the earliest age at which the individual is physically and mentally capable of handling them. A peaceful agricultural society can place economic responsibilities on its children at an earlier age than can a warlike hunting society. Pueblo children can hoe weeds or guard fields from marauding birds and animals at eight to nine years. Plains tribes could not put boys to hunting buffalo until they were several years older. Curtis presents a series of Plains biographies' indicating that in seven out of twenty-three cases a boy went on his first war party at about the age of fourteen, though he might start as early as eleven or as late as nineteen. Speaking in general terms, all of the tribes considered in this study appear to have exhibited anxiety concerning the acceptance of economic responsibilities by their children. All encouraged progress commensurate with the growth and develop- ment of the child. In some cases, undoubtedly, the purpose was to free the family from the burden of a dependent and to add to it a contributing member at the earliest possible date. In others, just as certainly, the purpose was not primarily to hurry the individual for selfish motives, but to avoid any later charge of neglect- ing the training of the child. As has already been noted, the prestige derived from rearing children depended on how well the children turned out, and parents were never sure of the outcome until the child was matured and married, hence there was a prestige motive in speeding that day. Economic efficiency was the goal of child training, regardless of the fact that religious and social orientation seemed often to receive more elaborate attention. In some instances this attention was consid- ered essential to economic efficiency; in others it depended upon economic efficiency. Economic self-sufficiency could be attained without achieving greatness in Indian society, but greatness could hardly be achieved without demonstrating ability in economic pursuits. To a-large extent this held for medicine men as well as others. One proof of spiritual power was ability to do things well. To promote the desire for progress toward maturity, and for the achievement of those attributes associated with the ideal man or woman, each tribe held out re- wards, sometimes few and simple, sometimes numerous and elaborate. They ranged from removal of artificial restrictions which children had to observe, to the granting of special privileges in recognition of achievement. Primitive peoples sought to add meaning to the achievement of socially approved status by embellishing the status and also the person occupying it with tangible as well as intangible prerogatives. It would be impossible, within the confines of this monograph, to give a full account of the ways in which this was done, but sixty selected examples are presented below. Sioux: Boys could not decorate themselves and ride around camp to impress the girls until they had proved ability on game trail and warpath. Only those who had been wounded in battle could paint themselves with red. Luther Standing Bear, 1928, pp. 26, 57. A boy is not entitled to hot soup or warm drinks. Must be a man first. C. A. Eastman, 1902, p. 52. Oglala: One could not claim the cardinal virtues of bravery, fortitude, generosity, integrity unless he had been tortured in Sun Dance and had scars to prove it. Blish, p. 96. Im Mead, 1937, p. 495. s Curtis, 1907-1930, 3:182-190. Pettitt: Primitive Education in North America 55 Mandan: There is an exact system of body painting and decoration to indicate the specific honors a man has won. Maximilian, p. 349. One who counted coup wore a wolf's tail; a spiral on one arm indicated an enemy killed; brown paint on a leg meant a second dead enemy; each stick in the hair represented a wound; a wooden knife meant a successful hand-to-hand encounter. Will and Spinden, p. 122. Omaha: A boy was not marriageable until he had brought home game and war honors; a girl had to know how to dress skins and perform other duties. Fletcher and La Flesche, 1911, p. 330. A man could not tattoo himself or wife or daughter until he had won war honors, and then only according to a graded series of symbols. Ibid., p. 221. A man who performed one hundred acts of public welfare could appoint some girl a chief. Ibid., p. 486. Cheyenne: A boy was obliged to herd horses until he went on first war party, then he was relieved of this duty. Grinnell, 1923, p. 74. A boy was relieved from necessity of listening to long lectures on behavior as soon as he went to war. Ibid., p. 124. Crow: One obtained a design for his war shield only through seeking visions. Lowie, 1922a, p. 402. There was an honorific style of dress which one could assume only after achieving the "four coups." Ibid., p. 231. Oto: Boys between the ages of six and ten were specifically identified by peculiar haircut indicating their gens affiliation and general age. Whitman, p. 69. Blackfoot: Boys who had not yet won their spurs were under many restrictions. Fat meats and other luxuries were not for them. They could not stand close to a fire when they were cold. When the camp crier announced that one family invited another to a feast, the names of family members were shouted aloud, but not of boys unless they were very precocious. It was the goal of ambition to be men- tioned. Boys who won shooting contests were allowed to wear feathers in their hair. Buffalo Child, pp.34,36. Boys whose behavior was exemplary and interests serious were allowed to wear roaches of badger skin dyed red and yellow as a sign of distinction. Ibid., p. 15. Winnebago: A boy who has started his quest for a guardian spirit is accorded honor. If someone lectures him he need only mention his vision quest and the lecture stops. Radin, 1915, p. 176. Menomini: A child of thoughtful mien who shows qualities requisite for shamanship is presented with a ceremonial club to carry about with him, and is accorded special attention. Skinner, 1913a, p. 77. Flathead: As soon as a girl was old enough to perform light housework she was no longer called a small child. Again, as it became obvious that puberty was approaching, she was addressed by a still more dignified term, and after puberty another. Turney-High, p. 76. Ojibwa: Every child had to wear a bag tied around his neck containing his umbilical cord. It was a mark of childhood and all were anxious to develop fast so they could get rid of it. Jenness, 1935, p. 66. The advantages of war honors were visibly apparent to all through an elaborate system of symbolic body painting and decoration. Teit, 1927b, p. 390. A boy who was successful in having a vision was released from the restrietions or taboos associ- ated with childhood and chose his own regime of living in accord with his vision. Jenness, 1935, p.52. One who worked for a vision also had a source for designs to decorate his possessions. Ibid., p. 53. Shoshone: Children wore only bead necklaces. Only those who had distinguished themselves after maturity could wear bear claws. Lowie, 1909, p. 181. Shuswap: After a girl had her first menses she could change her coiffure, use red paint, and wear a special headband and robe. Teit, 1909, pp. 587, 588. Boys beginning a vision quest eould don a headband and painted robe. Ibid., p. 589. 56 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. Thompson: As soon as a boy was old enough to dream he donned deer-hoof rattles, wore a headband of cedar bark or skin, and painted his face red. He also had a symbolic apron. Teit, 1900, p. 318. Older youths were distinguished from the younger by pierced noses and ears, supporting decora- tions, and tattoo. Ibid., p. 321. Children could not eat berries until half the crop had been consumed. Ibid., p. 349. Sanpoil: Some old woman saw that boys were the first up in the morning, routing them out of bed by poking their feet with the fire tongs. Men could rise at leisure. Same distinction for girls and women. Ray, 1932, p. 29. When strangers were present, children were not allowed to eat with elders. Ibid. Coeuwr d'AlAine: Advantages of distinction in life were visibly apparent in a graded series of decorations for war honors and in guardian-spirit designs on robes, shields, weapons, ete. Teit, 1927b, pp. 157, 193. Okanogan: Scars or trophies of war are tickets of admission to council deliberations. Ross, p. 308. Lummi: Boys have to bathe in icy waters in morning, perhaps again at night. They are deprived of best foods, getting only fish tails and duck backbones. Stern, p. 17. Boy does not lose nickname until he has a successful vision quest. Only then can he wear a blanket and other apparel, or think of a wife. Ibid., p. 23. Tanaino: Children were not allowed to wear boots. They had to gain some reputation first. Osgood, 1937, p. 45. Until a boy proves himself, he eats last at every meal. Men eat first, women second. Ibid., p. 135. Tolowa: Older children were distinguished from younger by pierced noses and ears. Girls could not bang their hair until their first menses; could not let it grow long until after marriage. Du Bois, 1932b, p. 248. Yuki: A boy wore fawnskin until he entered the ghost initiation, then he was given deerskin to wear. Kroeber, 1925, p. 189. Pomo: Until a boy reached eight to ten years and had a bow and arrows he could not wear a hair net or a rabbitskin robe. Loeb, 1926, p. 270. Young people could not eat luxuries such as caterpillars or worms. They could have only the water in which these were boiled. Ibid., p. 162. Yokuts: Sexual intercourse forbidden until one successfully passed through the Jimson weed ceremony. Kroeber, 1925, p. 502. San Juan Capistrano: Boys could not warm themselves at the fire. They were deprived of all best foods and told: "These foods for the old people." They could not eat all of these foods until they had had two or three children. Harrington, 1934, p. 20. Cocopa: All uninitiated boys were distinguished by short hair. Girls were forbidden to have sexual inter- course until after four menstruations. Gifford, 1933, pp. 289-293. Diegueiio: Little boys had their hair singed short all over the head. An older boy was allowed to let a scalp lock grow. Only when a boy was developed enough to think of women could he let all his hair grow. Spier, 1923, p. 341. Paiute: A boy was not allowed to sleep in the sweat house with the men, or to smoke, until he had killed a deer and carried it in. Steward, 1936, p. 294. Apache: When a girl is ready for marriage she is privileged to paint her face in special manner. Reagan, p. 290. Apache and Comanche warriors of great ability had a black spot or star tattooed or painted on the chest. C. L. and J. D. Smith, p. 186. Pettitt: Primitive Education in North America 57 Pima: Boys were given the cold food remaining after others had finished. Russell, p. 190. Tewa: No smoking until after first war party. Marriage linked in also. Parsons, 1924, p. 150. Cochiti: Children are not allowed to have delicacies such as onions and sheep brains. Goldf rank, p. 80. Zufii: Permission to wear a shawl is a sign that a girl is growing up. Mead, 1937, p. 340. Creek: Not until a youth has gone on a war party can he join in the Black Drink ceremony and display his ability to vomit beautifully. Swanton, 1924b, pp. 539-540. A young man would indicate his erudition by display of some symbol indicating how many degrees he had taken in the medical profession, of which there were six or seven. Ibid., pp. 618-619. Chickasaw: The privilege of tattooing was so carefully guarded that any individual daring to do so without warrant was publicly disgraced and might have skin removed. Adair, p. 417. Yuchi: A boy old enough to be recognized as a future member of a particular society could paint his face symbolically. Speck, 1909, p. 76. Esklimo: Not until a youth kills a seal will women start to try to find a wife for him. Gilbertson, quoting D. Crantz, 1:150. A youth is forbidden to eat young seal meat, eggs, entrails, heart, lungs, liver, narwhal, small game, until he has fully demonstrated himself to be an accomplished hunter. Rasmussen, 1908, p. 121. One cannot think of marriage until he has proved his ability as a hunter by killing one of each type of animal. Curtis, 1907-1930, 20:63. A young woman could not do her hair in the most distinguished manner until she had borne a son. Boas, 1884, p. 602. Nutnivak Eskimo: Boys, youths, unmarried men, all have kayaks, but not until they are recognized as hunters and are married can they put any decoration on them. Curtis, 1907-1930, 20:15. Few as these examples are, in relation to those that could be given, they will indicate again that primitive societies did not allow children to grow up by spon- taneous imitation in an aura of neglect. Childhood was not permitted to be an unadulterated pleasure which the individual would dislike to leave. Arbitrary re- strictions were numerous enough to add tangible desirability to the acquisition of the skills and status of the mature individual. Moreover, the process of matura- tion was not only distinguished by the sequential removal of restrictions, but was also given additional significance by the granting of publicly sanctioned rewards in the form of social privileges, and decorative rights. The primitive peoples in- cluded in this study gave more than lip service to the ideals which they sought to inculcate in their children. Those ideals were recognized in tangible and important ways, and there was less confusion of purpose generated in the minds of children than is true where achievement of social ideals does not guarantee power, prestige, and other social rewards. Girls and women were eligible to social rewards, just as were men, though to a somewhat less numerous and elaborate series. One salient example of the way in which reward balanced sanction is provided by the social attitude toward sexual matters in the moral code. Punishment for sex transgressions by the married woman was rather common, sometimes her nose was cut off. But the significant fact is that rewards for virtue and chastity were more formalized than were punishments for the lack of them. Lowie says of the Crow: The Crow have very definite ideals of feminine purity. A man certainly prides himself on being married to a woman of irreproachable chastity, and a wife of this type enjoys a very different 58 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. reputation and social status from that of a "crazy" one, as unchaste women are usually described. On publie occasions precedence was yielded to the virtuous women.90 Among the Plains tribes, where the Sun Dance was performed, it was usual for virtuous girls to be publicly selected to perform certain parts of the ceremony. Their virtue was not purely imagined, for their participation in the ceremony was subject to challenge by anyone who knew otherwise. In other words, prizes were offered for virtue, as among the Mandan.' To maintain that this type of public recognition of virtue led to perfect behavior on the part of young girls would be naive; but it must be listed as an educational supplement with psychologically important ramifications. Summary In this section it has been shown that generalizations concerning the dominance of imitation and imitative play in vertical culture transmission among primitive peoples are probably based on observations of too superficial a character. On more intensive examination it is clear that desired imitative activities are effectively fostered and undesired imitative activities neglected or discouraged. The degree to which this fostering is carried makes it necessary to conclude that if the term "imi- tation" is still to be used in preference to "directed practice" then we must recog- nize that in primitive societies the imitative faculty is itself an object of training and a result of, rather than a substitute for, teaching. As an alternative to the citing of "imitation" as the dominant feature of Indian child life, evidence demonstrates that the really dominant feature is the use of a wide variety of psychologically effective incentives to learning. Data bearing on three of these: the use of praise, of ridicule, and of reward and privilege, have been presented. Additional comments will be offered in subsequent sections. 90 Lowie, 1917, pp. 78-79. 9Wil and Spinden, p. 131. Pettitt: Primitive Education in North America 59 VI. THE EDUCATION A FUNCTION OF PERSONAL NAMES THE PECUIIARITY of American Indian customs relative to personal names has been the subject of comment by innumerable writers. Observers steeped in the tradition that names are purely tags which identify individuals as discrete units in specific family groups have been struck by the deeper significance and infinitely greater complexity attached to the concept of a name by primitive peoples. Primitive personal names, as contrasted with clan designations, do not in them- selves indicate familial or group connections. Commonly every personal name is unique for the family and social group at any given time. Some names are appar- rently trivial in character and even ridiculous. They are analogous to nicknames. Others are heirlooms of obviously great social and even spiritual significance, passed down from generation to generation. Names, especially this latter variety, tend to have a reality or even a personality of their own aside from the individuals who possess them. They are treated with reverence; their allocation is often a matter of public concern in which the individual or even his family does not have the final decision; they are usually conferred with ceremony; and the union thus solemnized between a human being and an individual name seems frequently to be regarded as akin to the transplantation of a soul by spiritual surgery. The relation- ship established is as intimate as that of a mother and an unborn child, with all the added nuances of a magical conception. The individual hesitates or even scrupu- lously avoids mentioning his own name, seeking to have it spoken by others if the necessity arises. Frequently the name possessed by a man at death becomes taboo for at least a short period after his decease. The supernatural affiliations of a name indicated by this widespread custom are further confirmed by the fact that names are widely regarded as having spiritual power-as being a protection against danger and a talisman of success. A Navaho possessed of an important name, when reduced to the last extremity and convinced that only herculean efforts will save him, asks someone to pronounce his name, then waits confidently for the dawn of a better day.1 It often happens in North American tribes that a man will have several names contemporaneously, or that he will have a series of them consecutively during the course of his lifetime. Initiation ceremonies, whether tribal or societal, usually include the conferring of a new name on the initiate. A great achievement may also be thus commemorated, whether it consists of an exploit on the warpath or of accession to public office. The above description condenses some of the more common naming practices found in North America. The structure of the naming complex changes from area to area, as does the stress laid upon one or another feature of it, and the amount of elaboration given to it as a whole. The salient point for the purposes of this study is that the basic ideas associated with the complex are practically universal among North American tribes, even if in attenuated form or in distorted elaboration. It is suggested here that naming practices were integrally related to the problems of educating and socializing the individual. More specifically, it is the purpose here to describe how personal naming customs of primitive peoples of North America ap- parently served to stimulate learning, strengthen character, and develop the per- sonality of the individual. As a corollary to this description it is suggested that in the curious identities and equivalences of naming practices among widely scattered peoples on the North American continent, as well as in their essential universality, 1Reichard, 1928, p. 96. 60 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. we are dealing again with customs in part engendered or popularized by shared problems: the obstetrical immigrant; his naturalization; and his continuing social- ization. The functional relationships implicit in these objectives have never been made explicit, and it is maintained that neither primitive education nor the process of culture growth can be clearly understood unless attention is given to such inter- relationships. At the risk of appearing a disciple of the Golden Age fantasy, I suggest that one point of differentiation between primitive and modern education is the amount of attention given in the former to the development of the whole personality. I make no attempt to classify personality development as a praisworthy objective for modern educators, on the one hand, or as one of the stultifying activities of primitive pedagogy on the other. Only the contrast is cited. Probably primitive peoples were less conscious of the whole personality of the individual as an abstract concept than are modern educators. Among primitive peoples there was no divided responsibility for education. Outsiders might supply discipline and provide special instruction, but the responsibility for the results of that cooperative effort could not be shared. If the child turned out well the parents and the rest of the family received the credit in tangible rewards and in prestige. If the child did not turn out well the family suffered commensurately, both tangibly and intangibly.! There was no hiatus be- tween the family and a school system into which responsibility could be dropped. Consequently, primitives used psychological reactions and sought above all to make of each child an individual who conformed in as many respects as possible to the cultural ideal of a great man or a great woman. It is not pertinent under this heading to make any comparisons, invidious or complimentary, of primitive ideals of manhood or womanhood. The point is that they did have such ideals, and that the conferring of personal names seems to have been an important factor in the achievement of those ideals. Quain8 has called attention to the fact that among the Iroquois the personality of the individual was to a large extent determined by the personality of the man whose name he inherited. Miller' speaks of the Iroquois use of names, also, and balances it with a reference to the Labrador Eskimo; from both usages he infers that names are of significance in forming American Indian character and per- sonality. No writer, however, has adequately analyzed the naming complex of the primitives of North America or clearly indicated its probable relationships to primitive education or socialization. From the material collected for this study, representing most of the major tribes in North America, it is clear that names were significant in three different ways: (1) by stimulating self-development and achievement through ridicule; (2) as a type of prestige reward for specific achievement or general good behavior and popularity; and (3) as the principal medium for transference of ready-made per- sonalities. Data bearing on these uses will be discussed in the order mentioned. THE ROLE OF PERSONAL NAMES IN RIDICULE STIMULUS The use of nicknames, either trivial or ridiculous, is mentioned frequently for various tribes in all areas except the Eskimo, and, perhaps, the Pueblco. Most fre- quently they were conferred upon young children and were not changed until the 2 For example: "If a boy does not heed the teachings, does not conform to Oto ideals, it is not considered the fault of the child, but the fault of the teacher, usually the boy's father or grand- father or some close gens relative with the necessary 'power' to teach." The stigma of bad behavior falls on the family. Whitman, p. 43. " Mead, 1937, section on the Iroquois by B. H. Quain, pp. 276-277. 4Miller, pp. 73 ff. Pettitt: Primitive Education in North America 61 child had in some way distinguished himself. Sometimes a ridiculous name might be applied just before or at the beginning of puberty when pressure was being brought upon the individual to assume the responsibilities of maturity. This might happen, as on the Plains when a boy joined his first war party, and the ludicrous name stuck with him until he won war honors. Among the Choctaw in the Southeastern area, the nickname was merely a phrase meaning "the person without a name" or "the nameless Choctaw." The idea behind this is indicated by the statement: "A boy was not given a specific name in childhood unless he merited it by some daring act, and the young warrior [who] passed through his chrysalis stage of life without having won a reputation ... therefore went by the general name of Chahta Osh Hoehifoh Keyu (the Nameless Chahtah) ."' Among the Blackfoot, a child had a serious name and also a "funny" name con- ferred by the mother, calling attention to some idiosyncrasy or peculiarity; a boy going on the warpath received a name, usually ridiculous, which he had to carry with good grace until he proved his right to a better one.6 The functional value of the nickname as a stimulus to learning and achievement is further demon- strated by the statement of Chief Buffalo Child Long Lance to the effect that public recognition of an individual's worth came through the name bestowed upon him, and early in life he received an opprobrious name which he could change only by his own exploits.7 The same author implies that at any time that an individual put himself in the position of appearing ridiculous he received another nickname, sometimes quite clear in meaning, say, "Old Woman," and sometimes very figura- tive, say, "Falling Snow," referring to his inability to stay on a horse.8 Maclean states that the Stoney Assiniboine named a child for the first article that the mother's glance fell upon after the birth, for some peculiar circumstance, or for some salient characteristic, and the child kept that name until he performed some notable deed considered worthy of commemoration.' Among the Ojibwa, again, children had serious names, but were called by nicknames.10 That even in such instances a nickname might acquire a good or bad connotation from the reputation of the individual is implied by the Flathead practice of voluntarily taking a deroga- tory title after winning a good reputation in order to gain added acclaim for modesty and humility.' In other words, to be able to give a name like "Beggar" a complimentary connotation was another way of demonstrating achievement. The typical practice is again illustrated by the Shoshone where a boy of ten or twelve received a name calling attention to some personal peculiarity, and did not lose it until he achieved someting notable.' Shortly after going off a milk diet, an Okanogan boy was nicknamed for the animal which he seemed most to resemble in disposition, and he did not get a better name until age and change of circumstances brought it to him.' Among Puget Sound tribes the nickname was given at birth and achievements between then and the age of ten to twelve determined what kind of a "real" name the child received.' A boy who showed talent in hunting received the name of some ancestor who was a great hunter; if he appeared to be a potential shaman he was named for a shaman. A Lummi boy bore his nickname until he 5Cushman, p. 279. ' Wissler, 1911, p. 17. 7Buffalo Child, pp. 42-43. 'Ibid., p. 114. 9Maclean, p. 27. 10 Densmore, p. 53. "Teit, 1927b, p. 379. 12 Lowie, 1909a, p. 211. "Ross, pp. 349-350. " Haeberlin and Gunther, 1930, pp. 46-47. 62 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. attempted a vision quest and was successful in establishing communication with the supernatural world.' 'In the Puget Sound area, even nicknames came to be regarded as valuable heirlooms, and after being dropped by an individual who later turned out well, they were saved to give to another child.16 This same practice prevailed among the Lillooet: "One curious fact about the Staz names [nicknames] is that they were hereditary. I call attention to this fact because it shows us in an unmistakable manner that words or terms which have once been used as names are invested thereby in the unsophisticated mind with a special character and sig- nificance."'7 One of the clearest statements of the attitude of the individual toward an oppro- brious nickname is offered by Olson for the Quinault. He points out that a youth was sometimes so sensitive about his nickname, especially if he were of high birth, that no one but the professional joker of the village dared twit him about it.'8 The Klamath also used, during early childhood, nicknames derived from a personal peculiarity or eccentricity.'9 The Klamath, in addition, utilized another type of ridicule situation concerned with the misuse of chronological age designations. They had an elaborate series of designations for the stages of the life cycle, and it was an insult to be ascribed to a stage below that actually occupied.' In California, the use of nicknames stressing personal peculiarities is noted for the Kato,' the Maidu,' the Yuma,28 and in adjoining areas, the Washo' and the Havasupai.' With the Washo, a child's careless use of language might be brought home to it by imposing a badly mispronounced word as his, nickname. It is necessary to reiterate, in support of the evidence already presented for the important educational part played by names, that primitive society was capable of acting in unison, and that there was little chance of escaping from a sanction set within the group. Osgood has said of the Kutchin: "Children who do not behave are talked about by the whole group. The children do not like this and often mend their ways."' So long as his parents have not transgressed against the code of proper behavior toward children, the force of social pressure is seldom if ever diluted by nonconforming adults or age-mates to whom the transgressor can flee for sympathy or support. PERSONAL NAMES AS PRESTIGE REWARDS As already indicated, the pedagogical effectiveness of trivial or ridiculous nick- names depends on the opportunities provided to gain a better name through good behavior or self-development and personal achievement. We would expect to find a rather close correspondence between the distribution of the use of nicknames and the distribution of the use of prestige-reward naming practices among the various tribes of North America. Unfortunately, this correspondence cannot be definitely indicated, even though there is always a general understanding that where nick- names are used, more serious names may be earned later. The difficulty is that where prestige names as a reward for achievement of culturally ideal behavior are mentioned, there is seldom any explicit mention of the balance between these names 'sStern, p. 21. 6 Haeberlin and Gunther, 1930; also, 1924, pp. 41-42. "Hill-Tout, 1905, p. 148. 18 Olson, 1936, p. 101. 19Curtis, 1907-1930, 13:176. 20 Spier, 1930b, p. 61. 21 Curtis, 1907-1930, 14:10. 22 Ibid., p. 113. 23 Forde, p. 149. 2Curtis, 1907-1930, 15:95. 25 Spier, 1928, p. 305. n Osgood, 1936, p. 147. Pettitt: Primitive Education in North America 63 and preceding cognomens. It is suspected that the field information is inadequate for this problem. In only a few instances: for the Assiniboine, the Blackfoot, the Choctaw, the Navaho, Indians of Puget Sound, and some others are there definite data on prestige-reward names which were preceded by nicknames, even though there is always the implication with nicknames that the individual overcomes their ridiculousness or triviality by his own efforts along socially approved lines. Also, where prestige-reward names are specifically reported there is always at least the implication that names which preceded were of a less important character. There- fore, on the basis of the available evidence, it is safest to say that the use of un- desirable names which provide an incentive to achieve better ones, and the use of extraordinarily desirable names for those who have won honor or demonstrated high character, are two developmental variations of the same general tendency to match individual development with names of ever greater significance. The reality of prestige-reward naming as a cultural element with important pedagogical connotations, is just as demonstrable as that of nicknaming, though perhaps for slightly less extensive areas. Among the Sioux, for example, it is reported: "After a boy returned from his first war party he was given an appella- tion by an uncle or a brother-in-law, and this was later exchanged for a name earned by great deeds. A man could assume his father's name only after having performed acts of such valor as to entitle him to the honor."'m Elsewhere we find testimony from a native: "The Sioux boy not only earns any honor which he may receive, but he also earns his name by which he will be known when he becomes a man. His name at birth is selected by his parents or by some of his relatives, and this he keeps until he is old enough to earn one for himself."' The Crow boy won the name of some famous deceased clansman or he was permitted to buy the name of some famous living elder when he had achieved honors on the warpath.' The same practice was followed by the Mandan and Hidatsa.' The fact that the conferring of a "good" name, or the purchasing of one, involved public approval of the recipient is particularly stressed by Chief Buffalo Child, a Blackfoot.' He states that names were not conferred by the family but by the tribe, and that the degree of distinction won by the individual determined the "goodness" of the name or names accorded to him. Some great warriors might have as many as twelve names. A father could not pass on his own name to a son unless the tribe requested him to do so, and that was one of the highest honors that could come to a boy. Additional evidence on the Blackfoot is offered in the biographical sketch of Chief Crowfoot.' Kroeber mentions for the Gr6s Ventre that "renowned warriors sometimes gave away their names to young men," that a man might receive his father's name or inherit it, and that old men sometimes gave away their names to young men.' Probably this represents a naming procedure similar to that found among the Blackfoot and other near-by tribes, but no definite statements to this effect are made. The picture for the Cheyenne is clear. Young boys on their first war party, Grin- nell states, seldom distinguished themselves, but "sometimes they did so, and re- turned to the village covered with glory, to the unspeakable delight and pride of their families, and to be objects of respect and admiration to their less ambitious and energetic playfellows.... If... the boy performed an especially creditable a7Curtis, 1907-1930, 3:18. 28Luther Standing Bear, 1931, p. 152. 2 Curtis, 1907-1930, 4:25. 30 Lowie, 1917, p. 41. fBuffalo Child, pp. 42-44. "2Maclean, p. 372. 33 Kroeber, 1907b, p. 182. 64 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. act ... his mother or aunt or an uncle, gave away a horse ... and presented him with a new name. If the mother gave the horse, she selected a name that her brother had borne; if the aunt, she chose her brother's name; if the uncle, his brother's name."' An equally clear statement, concerning public participation in prestige-reward naming, is recorded for the Pawnee. Fletcher says of them that a man was permitted to take a name only after some achievement indicating ability or strength of character, that it had to be assumed publicly, and that it had to be announced by a priest in accord with traditional ritual.' Among the Assiniboine, a boy gets a low-ranking prestige name when he counts his first coup on the warpath, but he does, not gain the privilege of asking for his father's name or his grandfather's name, depending on which has died, until he has won considerable renown,'M The Iroquois have an elaborate series of prestige names or titles, but they are not, in general, merely prestige rewards, for like the Northwest Coast tribes, heredity rules dominate. It is clear, however, that the Iro- quois also received prestige-reward names, entirely apart from hereditary titles. The names of famous warrior chiefs, for example, were given to nonrelatives, chosen on merit alone. Morgan states that these chieftainships gave opportunity for indi- vidual advancement as "props of the Longhouse" without destroying the system of government by hereditary sachems.87 It should be added, also, that even where name- titles were controlled by hereditary laws, they carried a definite prestige-reward connotation for the individual chosen from among the many who might be heredi- tarily eligible. For a Southeastern people we find this statement: The Natchez, like all the other nations of Louisiana, distinguish by particular names those who have killed a greater or less number of the enemy. The old warchiefs distribute these names according to the merit of the warriors... When a person understands their language, the name itself of a warrior enables him to learn all his exploits.38 This same practice is noted by Swanton.89 For the Creek it is said: "If a young Creek, having been at war, returned without a single scalp, he continued to bear the name of his mother, and could not marry, but if he returned with a scalp, the principal men assembled at the grand cabin to give him a name."'0 Elsewhere it is said of the Creek that each clan had a set of ceremonial or Busk titles carrying privileges and prestige which were awarded only for distinguished character in war, or in religious or civil affairs; new recipients being chosen, as incumbents died, from the ranks of the boys. It was a public ceremony at the annual Busk festival.' Special seats in the council went with each name, and probably a particular style of face painting. As a further commentary on the importance of names among the Creek, it is explained that if the recipient did not live up to his name he would lose it, dropping back into the ranks of the children, regardless of age. Furthermore: "Young men remain in a kind of disgrace, and are obliged to light pipes, bring wood, and help cook black-drink for the warriors, and perform all the menial services of the public square, until they shall have performed some warlike exploit that may procure them a war name." " Grinnell, 1923, pp. 122-123. 35Fletcher, 1899, pp. 86-87. So Denig, p. 517. 37 Morgan, p. 97. 38Kenton, p. 417. 3Swanton, 1911, p. 125. 40 Pickett, p. 110. 41 Swanton, 1924a, pp. 101-102. 42Ibid., pp. 416, 426. Pettitt: Primitive Education in North America 65 A Choctaw "boy was not given a specific name in childhood unless he merited it by some daring act," and a man might even grow to manhood without losing the designation of "The Nameless Chahtaw."'6 The naming practices of the Chickasaw were similar to those of the Creek" with the added complexity of compound names which indicated not only the prestige rating of the bearer, but also explicitly how that rating had been won. In concluding these comments on prestige-reward names, the subject of tek- nonymy cannot be neglected. As I see it, the practice fits in harmoniously with the fact that ability to bring children into the world was a criterion of maturity and normality, and with the widespread practice of publicly recognizing achievement by conferring a new name. It is not necessary to look further for a basic explana- tion. Curtis speaks of the Hopi' with the implication that a father had the privilege of taking a new name when his first child was born. Ordinarily, however, the practice was to take over not just any new name but the name which was conferred on the child, arranged in the form of a self-explanatory title: "Father of so-and-so" or "Mother of so-and-so." References to teknonymy were found for all the principal tribes of the Southeast area, for the Iroquois, tribes of the Southwest, the Maidu and Cahuilla in California, the Crow and Hidatsa on the Plains, the Haida and Tlingit on the Northwest Coast, the Tanaino, Kutchin, Salteaux, etc., for Canada, and even for the Mackenzie Eskimo. These last-named people continued to call them- selves by the teknonymous title even if a child died, provided that he had lived for about ten years.'6 Other peculiarities, indicating that the supernatural power of a child's name may also be a supplementary stimulus to teknonymy, are exhibited by the Paiute, where even uncles and aunts might assume a teknonymous appella- tion based on the name of a given child,'7 and by the Navaho, where adults, rather than use their own names, perhaps of little prestige, will speak of themselves as such and such a relative to so-and-so, who does have a prestige or "power" name.' It is clear from these citations, and others that could be offered, that primitive peoples in North America utilized names as one form of public recognition or reward for distinguished achievement by youths and adults in culturally accepted fields of activity. Such utilization again stresses the fact that in primitive society the ideals of education and those of practical life tended to coincide, and public approval was openly and ceremonially given to the individual who lived up to the ideals, and to no one else. The lectures given to children on behavior were sup- ported by the activities of society. In connection with this observation it is worth stressing again that under such conditions preceptual teaching, which has often been cited as one of the weaknesses of primitive education, is a most effective instrument. Teaching by precepts be- comes ineffective as an educational procedure only when adult society does not live up to them. Primitive society, in the main, does live up to the precepts taught to its children and publicly rewards those who show distinction in their allegiance to such precepts. USE OF NAMES IN PERSONALITY TRANS ERENCE Reference was made earlier to the concern of primitive peoples for the whole per- sonality of the child. It should be added, to make this clearer, that almost all 43 Cushman, p. 279. " Swanton, 1926, pp. 187-188. 4C Curtis, 1907-1930, 12:35. " Steffinsson, 1914, p. 365. 47 Steward, 1933, p. 293. *8 Reichaxd, 1928, p. 97. 66 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. primitives in North America conceived of maturity not merely in terms of a single skill or intellectual talent, but in terms of an inner development of character and personality which automatically placed the individual in his proper relationship to society and to the supernatural. Much as modern society tacitly or openly declares that the teaching of skills and the imparting of facts are only a part of the educa- tional process-both supplementary or subsidiary to an inner awakening variously described as a sense of values ,and discrimination, an ability to use facts for the solution of new problems, or the ability to think independently-so primitive society was concerned with the development of the child as an individual in the social group, rather than merely as a hunter, a fisher, a weaver, or even a shaman per se. Ability in these occupations, in fact, in all activities of primitive society, was visualized not as a personal talent but as a derivation from some inner source of permissive or implemental '-spirlt power, which some children might have from birth, which others might acquire by gift or bequest or purchase, and still others by establishing contact with supernatural agents. What one did, and what one was were so inextricably entangled in the primitive mind that each explained the other. A man who did not have the right inner development, spiritually and otherwise, could not possibly do things well, and conversely, the man who did not do right would destroy his inner development, particularly with respect to super- natural power. As a corollary, the man who did things well, and who behaved in the right way, ipso facto had a desirable inner development. As a consequence of these beliefs, varying remarkably from tribe to tribe, but all leading to comparable attitudes toward the developing child, a procedure roughly describable as "personality transference" was everywhere practiced in greater or lesser degree. For a woman about to bear a child it was customary to obtain the services, as midwife, of some other woman whp had borne many healthy children without trouble, or whose children had turned out well. In some mysterious way, it was felt that she had the knack, or the learning, or the power, that was needed, and that by securing her services her personality attributes might be transferred to the expectant mother and the child to be. The same kind of procedure was followed in all ceremonies connected with the newborn child, dealing with the umbilical cord, or with naming. The kind of man or woman asked to perform such services had the attributes desired for the child. A shaman with recognized supernatural power was a desirable person to officiate at such ceremonies. So was a famous warrior, or hunter, or orator, or one who combined all the attributes of a great man. Equivalent criteria were applied to women. Out of this congeries of ideas comes first the fact that whoever was asked to teach a child was assuredly himself a master of the knowledge to be imparted and further- more had all or many of the personality attributes that it was desirable for the child to develop. The process of teaching was not merely a transfer of specific knowledge, it was a transfer of part of the power or the personality of the teacher. As Israel Folsom, the Choctaw, explained it: Lectures on the subject of bravery and sincerity, truth and justice towards their friends, were often given them by some of the bravest of their head-men. In fact, no other person was allowed to address the young, or the people, at any time, but those whose bravery had been long known and acknowledged among them." As Heckewelder says for an unspecified tribe in Pennsylvania: No pains are spared to instil into them that by following the advice of the most admired and extolled hunter, trapper, or warrior, they will at a future day acquire a degree of fame and repu- " Cushman, pp. 368-369. Pettitt: Primitive Education in North America 67 tation equal to that which he possesses; that by submitting to the counsels of the aged, the chiefs, the men superior in wisdom, they may also rise to glory, and be called wisemen, an honorable title to which no Indian is indifferent.50 On the other side of the continent, among the Quinault, a man who was particularly concerned about the success of his son's quest for a guardian spirit would send him to another village, or even another tribe, to receive instruction from the most suc- cessful man he knew, probably a chief.' In addition to lecturing the pupil, a teacher tries to keep him in close proximity, to give him objects which he believes contain some of the power that has accounted for his own success, or he rubs the boy with his hands. Teaching was also a process of spiritual exchange; and the conferring of names frequently has the same sig- nificance. A name was not important for what it denoted, but rather for what it connoted. A name was valuable because it had acquired power from the personality of the previous owner or from that of the donor, whether another human being or a supernatural being. When a child was given its first name, particularly a serious name, but often even a nickname, the custom was to have it conferred by a woman or a man of great distinction and high reputation. Regardless of how such a personage acquired his name, its transfer to the child would confer something of the power and personality of the owner. There is little question that such a transfer did take place, not by magical means, but by the simple process of impressing on the child that his name had come from such and such a person, that this person was a most remarkable individual, and that it was the child's privilege to be just as remarkable because of the name given, even though the name itself might have no literal meaning of significance. Among the Ojibwa it was considered wise to have an influential man give a name to a boy even if the boy's father also named him.' In nearly all cases ... the parents commissioned an old man, whose age indicated that he had enjoyed the favor of the supernatural world, to discover a suitable name for their child ... The old man generally devised a name from some incident in the vision that had come to him during his boyhood fast, but occasionally he sought a special dream for the oceasion."8 Among the Shawnee, it is reported that parents who have had many children die are not likely to be asked to dream a name for a friend or relative, even though they may have reached a ripe old age themselves.' For the Crow, Lowie says: "As a rule the parents invited people of prominence to name their children."' Among the Black- foot, a father had the right to name a child but did not exercise it unless he felt that he was a man of requisite importance. "He usually calls in a man of distinction'. . . The conferring of the name is regarded as of very great importance since the man- ner of its doing is believed to influence the fate of the child during the entire span of life. The virtue of the naming is greatly enhanced if the officiating person is one of great renown."' Another comment which clarifies the significance of naming is offered for the Acoma pueblo, where a medicine man is asked to confer the name and as he does so blows upon the young infant.'7 Parsons says, in discussing Laguna, the practice of having a healthy old person name a child also exists at Zunli. "A young person does not give his name because it conveys no assurance of longevity."' Overshadowing these practices concerned with the name-giver's personality, however, is the practice of conferring the name of an ancestor for the purpose of 50 Heekewelder, p. 113. 6S Lowie, 1911, p. 215. 61 Olson, 1936, p. 143. MWissler, 1911, pp. 16-17. Kohl, p. 273. 57 White, 1929, pp. 133-134. 63 Jenness, 1935, p. 93. " Parsons, 1923, p. 180i and note on p. 181. 54C. F. and E. W. Voeglin, p. 622. 68 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. transferring to the child some spark of the personality or power of that particular ancestor. The pedagogical significance of convincing a child that he is a reincarna- tion of a great man or woman, or even that in some mysterious manner he has acquired the psychic mainspring which made that man or woman great, scarcely needs to be labored. Modern psychologists stress the importance to a child of having a personality of his own; an individuality in the group; and a feeling of being essential to it. Certainly the American Indians wo transferred the name of some dead ancestor to a child, with the implication that in some way, through reincarna- tion or spiritual equivalence, the child had taken over the reputation and the per- sonality of that ancestor, would accomplish the task of giving the child individ- uality in a most effective way. The influence of this upon the need for discipline, and the training of the child, would necessarily be great. As Bartlett points out: "It is important to remember that receiving a reputation and keeping up that reputa- tion are in the majority of instances-and particularly within the primitive group-inseparable social responses."' In the course of this survey definite statements of the transfer of ancestral names from one generation to the next were found for approximately seventy tribes or tribal groups representing all culture areas on the North American continent north of Mexico. In the majority of statements it is clear that the youngster did not receive an empty name, but rather a personality and a reputation backed by innumerable stories of what his namesake accomplished, how he behaved, what people thought of him, and so on. The essence of the thought is probably best expressed by the statement of the Sioux, Ohiyessa, to the effect that an expectant mother might pick out the ancestor whom she hoped her child would represent, and spend hours in isolation rehearsing the stories of that ancestor, and thinking about him, in order to impress the spirit of the man upon her yet unborn baby.' The effect of this thought upon the development of the child is to be guessed from the fact that in many instances the conferring of the name was the end to mourning for the dead; it was accompanied by eulogies of the man who previously bore the name, and was concluded with some such statement as "Now he lives again," even where the idea of reincarnation is not at all clearly defined. To give a more adequate conception of the variations in this concept, of its wide distribution, and of the pedagogical connotations, a summary of the evidence is presented below. Eskimo of Greenland: The Eskimo regard the name as a kind of soul. When a person dies this name-soul takes up its abode in the body of a woman about to bear a child, and this child inherits the qualities of the person involved. A magician or a wise woman must be called in to determine exactly which name and soul the child has inherited, for otherwise it wilthbecome ill. Rasmussen, 1908, p. 116. Eskimo, Iglulik: Everyone on receiving a name receives with it the strength and skill of the deceased namesake. Spiritual and physical qualities are also inherited from those who, in the far-distant past, once bore the same name. Idem, 1929a, p. 58. A child cries for a name, and when the one whose name-soul is to take up its dwelling in the newly born infant is summoned, care must be taken that all the qualities that soul possessed are communicated to the child. Ibid., p. 172. Eskimo, Mackenzie, and miscellaneous: A child has a soul of its own, called Nappan, which is weak and foolish, and the mother holds a ceremony to get the experienced Nappan of some dead person to come to her child as its Atka or soul guide. It is this borrowed soul which sees to the child's development and which thinks, acts, and speaks for it until the child's Nappan is old enough to take care of itself. A child cannot be whipped until that time. Stefansson, 1913, pp. 398-399. The child is regarded as, addressed as, and treated with the respect due the person whose name- soul it has inherited. Ibid., pp. 400-401; also idem, 1914, pp. 363-364. 69 Bartlett, p. 113. 0 C. A. Eastman, 1902. Pettitt: Primitive Education in North America 69 A person on the point of death may choose the child, still unborn, for whom he wants to be the Atka. Idem, 1914, p. 376. Kutchin of Peel River: Every child is a reincarnation, sometimes of a person of a different sex or a different clan. The child is supposed to know this, and to have a clear memory of its past life at time of birth. Actually, however, the mother usually suggests who the child is because of a dream in which the dead person has appeared. Osgood, 1936, p. 140. Tanaino: Each child is the reincarnation of some dead relative. Idem, 1937, p. 160. Carrier: When a man dies a shaman extracts his soul and blows it into some woman relative, and the first child she bears thereafter will possess the soul. Harmon, 1903, p. 256. Hereditary names carry a status to which the recipient must live up. The significance of these names and the personalities going with them are drummed into the children by folk tales of how whole villages might be destroyed by supernaturals if the children did not do as they should, how even a nameless orphan could outstrip a heedless boy with a great name. Jenness, 1928, pp. 26-27. Satutdene, Hare, Slave, Chipewyan: A child is considered to be the reincarnation of some individual whose identity is determined by a parent or some elder who points out resemblances. The child is called "Natli" (The Born Again). Osgood, 1933, p. 75. Haida: A first son inherits his paternal grandfather's name, and according to the prevailing notion of reincarnation he comes thereby to embody the soul of the latter. If this grandfather was alive at the time of his birth, he sometimes waits until the death for the name. Murdock, p. 357. A girl similarly receives the name and reincarnated soul of some deceased matrilineal relative. Ibid., p. 359; also Swanton, 1909b, p. 117. Tlingit: Often a young woman would cut hair or nail parings from the body of a deceased and much- admired relative, and carry them about with her while observing appropriate fasts over a period of eight months in order to gain the soul of this person for her next child. Swanton, 1904, p. 429. Nootka: A boy gets the name of his father or paternal grandfather at creeping age. A girl gets her mother's or maternal grandmother's. (No further details.) Curtis, 1907-1930, 11:42. Kwakiutl: All personal names spring from earlier generations. A child gets his first name at about ten months, others later. Ibid., 10:51. Hereditary family names were assumed in accordance with certain laws of inheritance and restrictions as to financial ability. "When a 'person took such a name he assumed in his own person all the greatness of his ancestors who had in their lifetime borne the name." Benedict, 1934, p. 183. Salish of British Columbia: If a boy, he received name of paternal ancestor; if a girl, of maternal ancestor. "These names were never mere tags to distinguish one person from another but were always connected with the family legends, and had reference to some true or fancied incident in the life of the ancestors." If one treated the names without ceremony that would insult the ancestors. Hill-Tout, 1904b, p. 322. Puget Sound: After bearing a nickname for the first ten or twelve years, a child was given the name of some ancestor, preferably one who had followed the profession which the child was expected to follow. A boy might later win a prowess name, and acquire a guardian-spirit name also. Haeberlin and Gunther, 1930, pp. 46-47. Lummi: Before training for a vision a boy carries a hereditary nickname. Then "his parents give him one of the names of his famous ancestors, preferably that of his great-grandfather.... The name of the ancestor serves as an incentive to the child to inspire him to rival the deeds of his name- sake." In some instances parents may give a dream or vision name, and in such cases the story is carefully explained so that the child will know how to care for it and use it to assure himself power. Stern, p. 21. A girl's name is chosen at puberty from among ancestors (paternal) who were skilled in weaving, basketmaking, or magic. Ibid., p. 25. 70 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. Lillooet: Names partake in some mysterious way of the nature of those who first bore them. They would appear to be generally given to those who resembled in some way the person who originally bore the name. Hill-Tout, 1905, p. 148. Sanpoil: Ancestral names were conferred upon a child with great ceremony and long eulogies of the character and accomplishments of the namesake, and words of advice to the child receiving this great honor. The speeches closed with: "Now ... lives again." Ray, 1932, p. 114. Wishram: A man's name was taboo for five years after his death and then it was given to some descendant. All names were ancestral. At the ceremony a spokesman said: "We want to let the fishes, the birds, the winds, snow and rain, the sun, moon and stars know that so and so has become as though alive again. His name will be heard again when this man is called." Spier and Sapir, 1930, pp. 258-259. Pomo: Names are officially conferred, one by the mother's brother and one by the father's brother; the first is most important. The thought was that the child would be like the person after whom he was named, and he tended to follow the same profession as his namesake. Names were family property, usually passing down matrilineally. Loeb, 1926, p. 258. The name of a being was an integral part of the being himself. Ibid., p. 365. Nisenan: Children were usually named after dead relatives. If two men happened to claim the same ancestral name they regarded each other as brothers; if two women, they went so far as to share husbands. They were like the same person, apparently. Beals, p. 369. Navaho: Often names are used time and time again in the same family. The prestige of the name is not indicated by its literal meaning. It may be prosaic, but acquires significance from the person who formerly owned it. Reichard, 1928, pp. 96, 97. Zwii: A child is not named until he is creeping about, because if an ancestral name had been given him at birth and then he had died it would not be possible to use the name until everybody got over feeling badly. Names of a living person or of one recently dead are never given. Parsons, 1919b, p. 171. [Contrary to preceding statement:] At Laguna and Zufii the names of very healthy, long-lived people still living might be given to children. Idem, 1923, pp. 181-182. Acoma: When names are conferred on babies the medicine man is called in to blow on the infant as the name is pronounced. White, 1929-1930, pp. 133-134. Oto: Names given to children were considered to be blessings insuring long and successful lives. A boy, if not named after some concept derived from the sacred origin legend, would be given the name of a distinguished relative or chief in the hope that he would be like him and achieve equal success. When a man had achieved sufficient distinction to have his name pass down to children, that name became in effect a supernatural instrument. Whitman, p. 67. At the time a name is given, some old man is asked to officiate. He prays to the spirits, gives a forecast of the future which the child is fated to have, and tells the story behind the name conferred. Later a boy may be given another name by some old man who wants a successor to carry on his reputation, or he may be rewarded with one for a notable deed, or he may secure one in a vision. Curtis, 1907-1930, 19:155. Gros Ventre: Names of distinguished, elderly warriors were sometimes conferred on young children. An old man's name was believed to insure longevity. When a child became ill, its name was promptly changed. Later a person might be given or inherit his father's name. Kroeber, 1907b, p. 182. Crow: [Life story of Many Coups.] Says his first name was dreamed for him by his grandfather, and meant "Many Coups." His grandfather also dreamed he would be a great warrior and a chief. He adds: "Of course, all the people knew this, and even as a boy I felt obliged to excel my com- panions, to be a leader among those of my own age. I must live up to my name, you see." Linder- man, 1930, p. 27. Pettitt: Primitive Education in North America 71 Sioux: Names meant something. There was a story behind each one. Perhaps it represented some virtue of conduct which one's father had displayed at some memorable warpath encounter in the past. The name "Sorrel Horse" might not refer to a horse at all, but to the bravery of a man in some fight when he happened to be riding a horse of that color. Luther Standing Bear, 1931, pp. 155-156. Names may sound commonplace, but there is always a story behind them. Brisbin, pp. 421-423. An expectant mother thinks of a distinguished ancestor and rehearses his deeds so as to form a similar character in her child. C. A. Eastman, 1902, p. 23. Prior to the naming of an infant there is a ceremonial transfer of character. For a boy, some brave and good man is called in to breathe into the child's mouth and thus transfer his own dis- position. A good woman is called in to do the same for a girl. There is some indication of a belief that a supernumerary spirit may leave the body of a dead man and take up residence in that of a child. J. 0. Dorsey, 1889, pp. 482-484. Blackfoot: As a rule the name is one of some person of great distinction, long dead. In all cases there is the feeling that the name carries power to promote the well-being of the one upon whom it is conferred, and that without such a name the fates will be adverse. The power of the name is also strengthened by having some person of great distinction officiate at the naming ceremony. Wissler, 1911, pp. 16-17. Sarsi: Names may represent the spirit of some act of bravery by a grandfather. The story goes with it. Curtis, 1907-1930, 18:106-107. Northern Plains: In a story of Little Wolf, it is explained that on entering the medicine lodge the neophyte must beeme the successor of the founder and receive his name and the story of his life. Skinner, 1922, pp. 65 ff. Northern Algo-nkians: "When anyone of the family dies all the relatives assemble, and together decide which among them shall bear the name of the deceased, giving his name to some other person, a relative. He who takes a new name likewise assumes the responsibilities that are annexed to it, and thus he is chief if the dead man were one.... He... has taken life in the person of him who has received the dead man's name and rendered him immortal." Blair, p. 51. Ojibwa: Names were dreamed, sometimes by parents, but usually by a respected man of ripe age who obviously enjoyed the favor of the supernatural world. The old man usually chose something of significant moment from his earlier vision quest. A good name insured health and power throughout an individual's life. Legend says that a child with a poor or derisive name will pine away and die. On conferring a name its significance was always explained. Jenness, 1935, pp. 92-94. Menomini: Naming customs were similar to those of Ojibwa. The idea was stressed that a child has a pre- destined name, perhaps that of a long-dead ancestor, or even of a supernatural being. A shaman may be called to discover right name, otherwise child would become sick. Skinner, 1913a, pp. 36-39. Iroquois: Each group had its own series of hereditary names which were conferred publicly on new owners on decision of the council. When one became a sachem he did so by taking the name of a dead sachem or a name symbolic of the personality of the dead man. The names of great warriors, and it was from this class that the historic figures of Iroquois society came, were also passed down, but without inheritance rules, on the basis of individual merit. Morgan, pp. 94-97. Every office, including that of priest, carried a name which one had to receive with public approval. Ibid., p. 177. In general, each clan had a series of names denoting rank and duty which it bestowed upon its members as vacancies occurred. The recipient's former name with all it connoted in behavior went to someone else. They had names adapted to different periods and pursuits of life: one class for infancy and childhood; another for manhood; another for their religious advisers; and another for chiefs and sachems. Upon the birth of a child, the mother or some other relative applied to the chief for a list of clan names not then in use of the proper class for the infant. At fourteen to sixteen years of age, application might be made for a new name, and it was usually conferred with great ceremony, after which the boy began to take up the duties of the adult citizen as implied by his name. Ibid., appendix, pp. 216, 237-239. Personality was to a large extent determined by the personality of the man whose name a boy 72 University of Californwia Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. inherited. Since a series of lesser names preceded the acquisition of a sachem title, the boy had some experience in making his actions conform to a model, and in living up to a name. Mead, 1937, pp. 276-277. Shawnee-Cherokee: The Shawnee have a peculiar system of name groups. Old men and women of ripe age are asked to dream names and then, without reference to the meaning, to decide which group should claim it, and the individual shares the standardized character or personality idealized by that particular group. C. F. and E. W. Voegelin, pp. 618-628. Wichita: Names of good quality were handed down in the family from generation to generation. A boy was rewarded with a name for his deeds. Curtis, 1907-1930, 19:46. Chickasaw-Creek: Boys were said to be named after their grandfathers or fathers and girls after their grand- mothers and great-grandmothers. Later, war names were given with great ceremony to boys. Swanton, 1926, p. 188. Yuchi: Each clan had its own stock of names. The conferring of them was associated with the idea of reincarnation. "The Yuchi believe that in naming a child after the ancestor it will exhibit the qualities of that ancestor, and it is common to hear a father remark how much his son is getting to be like his great uncle, and then proceed to eulogize the latter." Speck, 1909, pp. 93-94. Virginia Indians: Extraordinarily great men are believed to live another life in the great beyond, die a second time, and then come back to earth. Hendren, 1895. Southeast tribes: Natchez, Virginia Indians, and Chitimacha, at least, had an idea of transmigration of souls. Names were given to children shortly after birth. A girl might keep hers throughout life, but a boy went through a rough gradation of war names commensurate with his achievements. Swan- ton, 1924o, pp. 698, 710. The instances in which the ancestral names of a family, that is, the names of the dead, are reported specifically as never to be used are remarkably few. Only four or five came to my attention, and one or two are doubtful. Spier reports for the Klamath that the names of the dead were never used, only nicknames and spirit names.' Du Bois remarks that the Tolowa had a taboo on the names of the dead, a breach being atoned for by a fine.62 Mooney speaks of the Kiowa as so fearful of the names of the dead that they dropped similar words out of their language.' Curtis says that Cree ancestral names were not used, new ones being invented or selected at random." Granting the validity of these observations, there is clearly no such thing as a general fear of the names of the dead among North American In- dians, as has sometimes been claimed. The taboo, if it exists, is generally only for a stated period after death. The antipathy to mention of the name of a living person may have contributed to a misunderstanding. But this antipathy does not appear to have derived from the fact that these names were often those of dead people. Where specifically stated, the reasons for embarrassment seem to be associated with the fact that telling a name is either a confession of lack of achievement, or a boast about what one has achieved, and such bragging is restricted to ceremonial occa- sions or to denouncing an enemy in effective style. It is more a matter of etiquette than fear of the supernatural. However, anxiety over protecting the name and preserving its power is also operative. The conclusion to be drawn from these facts is that the conferring of ancestral names, a very common practice in North America, was effective as a means of bring- ing about what can be described as personality transference. The child was con- 61 Spier, 1930b, p. 60. "Du Bois, 1932b, p. 252. For California see: Kroeber, 1907a, pp. 322-323. Mooney, 1892, p. 272. "4 Curtis, 1907-1930, 18: 76. Pettitt: Primitive Education in North America 73 stantly impressed with the thought that he was somebody because of the name he had drawn in life's lottery. He was told stories about the exploits of his namesake, or concerning the power behind that namesake's exploits, and was given to under- stand that he had acquired almost limitless potentiality through his name; a po- tentiality that could be realized upon merely by reproducing the exemplary con- duct of the former owner. It would be expected that this conferring of the names of dead personalities upon children and thus perpetuating the supply of great men and women in a given line would give to ancestors a special value, and lead to restrictions on the use of their names by families not genetically entitled to the privilege. This expectation is borne out by reports from a number of different tribes. Among the Nisenan in California, if a child were born when no good name was available in the family, some friend from another family would have to be petitioned to release one from his group.' Among the Cahuilla, families were so afraid that good names and their attendant personalities would be stolen by other clans that they whis- pered them in secret, using a make-believe name at public ceremonies.' Among Puget Sound tribes and the Lummi, even nicknames were jealously guarded, no other family daring openly to use a name, serious or ludicrous, to which it was not entitled.6' Among the Nez Perce, ancestral names of great potency could be sold by an impoverished family.' The implication that equivalent attitudes prevailed widely is found in references to names as family property, or family prerogatives, in thirty or more tribes. Under such conditions it may readily be imagined that problems sometimes arose among a group of brothers and sisters as to whose progeny were to receive the most prized names, and for intermarried groups of brothers and sisters, the question of deriving from the mother's side or the father's side might present an even more acute problem. Consequently, in general, there is some rule of thumb or even strict regulation to control inheritance. Either the privilege goes to the men in a group of siblings, or to the women, regardless of where they marry or how many good names the family by marriage may have at its command. Even more often the women in a group of siblings fall heir to the feminine names for their children, the men to the male names. Any children of the opposite sex which they have must derive names from the family into which the man or woman marries. Attention has already been called to the possible influence of the strong emotional bond between brothers and sisters on the unity of social groups. I have characterized the clan as an association which elaborates upon and strengthens the cohesiveness of sibling groups. It is further suggested that the wide use of ancestral person- alities in the developing of the younger generation, and the consequent importance of protecting ownership of those personalities and the personal names symbolizing them, as well as of enforcing a fair division of rights to them, would serve as a fur- ther incentive to clan development. The Voegelins' have already advanced the theory that naming practices might have had a part in the development of Algon- kian clans. However, they draw their evidence frpm the peculiar name-group system of the Shawnee, which is in mainy respects unique in North America. I be- lieve that if naming practices were associated with the development of the clan idea, the association would more likely develop from naming concepts found throughout America, than from one rather aberrant form of namin, practice. 0 Faye, 1923, p. 35. % Strong, 1929, p. 98. 67 Puget Sound Tribes: Haeberlin and Gunther, 1930, p. 46; for thle Lummi: Stern, 1934, p. 21. es Spinden, 1908, p. 247. 69 0. F. and E. W. Voegelin, pp. 635 if. 74 University of California Pub lications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. Summary In this section it has been shown that the peculiar practices of North American Indians with respect to selecting personal names for children and others, fit into a pattern when analyzed with a view to their possible pedagogical importance. Evi- dence is adduced to show that the use of nicknames is correlated with the widespread use of ridicule as a deterrent to transgressors, and, more significantly, as an incen- tive to achievement in socially approved directions. Other evidence indicates that the giving of names with social-prestige value, as a reward for achievement, is cor- related with the widespread tendency of North American Indians to stimulate desired behavior by a lavish use of praiseful public recognition. The peculiar prac- tice of giving the name of a first-born child to his parents, to which the technical term "teknonymy" is applied, is here a further extension of the prestige-reward concept, in the form of a name title. The use of ancestral names in North America may have been stimulated by their effectiveness in developing character and pro- moting personalities of the culturally ideal type. In conclusion, the primitives of the area discussed have developed naming prac- tices which are a fundamental aid in educating their children and in passing on to them certain intangible cultural values. Reference is also made to the possible rela- tionship between sibling ownership of valuable, personality-freighted, ancestral names, and the tendency toward development of clans. Pettitt: Primitive Education in North America 75 VII. THE SIGNIFICANCE OF FIRST-FOOD RITES No ASPECT of primitive education has suffered more from misinterpretations based on casual observation than that which may be classed as economic. It is customary to credit the development of proficiency in food gathering and household tasks largely to spontaneous imitation. As Miller says in one of the more recent books on primitive education: The tools and weapons, dress, speech, and the more tangible elements of the material culture are brought to the child through the agency of his own senses and inborn appetitive interests. A major part of the child's education into a social milieu in the simpler society consists in this unpremedi- tated absorption of the life activities of the folk through mere suggestion and imitation.' The inadequacy of this point of view has already been dealt with at some length in Section V, with special reference to children's games which bear upon the economic activities of adult society. It was pointed out that the term "imitation" hardly does justice to the process by which a boy learns to use a bow and arrows, or a girl learns household duties through playing house with dolls and miniature household equip- ment. There is always an adult stimulus to these games, and quite frequently -adult supervision. More pertinently, there is deliberate discouragement of undesirable imitative play, and effective stimulation of approved activities through group- supported praise and ridicule, and through a socially sanctioned correlation of privileges with degree of maturity. In pages 59-75 it was indicated how these incentives toward proficiency in economic pursuits and approved behavior are further supplemented by the use of nicknames as a symbol of nonachievement, and of prestige names as a socially supported reward symbolizing approval of reported achievements. In this section a further demonstration of primitive ingenuity in the application of parentally directed public praise will be offered, with particular reference to such pursuits as hunting, fishing, root digging, and fruit gathering. It would be strange indeed if primitive peoples allowed their children to approach the responsi- bility of self-support in a casual, undirected way, on their own initiative. In all primitive societies in North America, particularly those depending primarily on hunting activities, but not excepting, on occasion, those partly supported by a rude form of plant cultivation, the problem of obtaining sufficient food to support non- productive individuals was never permanently solved. Man seems to be blessed with or conditioned to a bovine gregariousness which is handicapped by an unbovine masticatory and digestive system. Much of the sessile portion of the living land- scape can be transformed from scenery to food only through the intermediation of other forms of animal life. In order to sustain his gregariousness, primitive man had either to concentrate and improve the usable chlorophyll products of the landscape through agriculture, or to extend his walking range and concentrate all his ingenu- ity on the harvesting or capture of Nature's often scant blessings. Wherever evidence is obtainable, it appears that primitives were not interested in Heaven as a compensation for disparity between reach and grasp except occa- sionally on the field of battle. They were most practical minded on the subject of food, within the limits set by superstition, which to them were still practical. The extent of their practicality is shown by the steps they took to encourage proficiency in food-gathering techniques on the part of the oncoming generation. The satisfac- tion of personal hunger was seldom if ever allowed to provide the incentive for economic experiments by young boys and girls. In fact, every effort was made to 1 Miller, p. 130. 76 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. substitute praise and the reward of public approval for selfish motives in the food quest. Throughout North America the increasing ability of a boy as a hunter or fisherman, and to a slightly lesser degree, of a girl as a gatherer of food, was care- fully observed, and apparently encouraged by ceremonial recognition of each achievement. The recognition given was explicitly aimed at encouragement of food sharing as well as at food acquisition. The high incidence of such ceremonies, which may be called "First-Game Ceremonies" or "First-Fruits Ceremonies," has not been specifically discussed in writings either on primitive education or on other phases of primitive culture with which they appear to be linked; hence this sepa- rate discussion here. Speaking generally, American Indian boys progressed through a publicly ac- cepted sequence of hunting achievements, beginning usually with birds killed with blunt arrows, passing through a series of small animals of the "varmint" class, and culminating in the bagging of the largest game animals, such as: seal, walrus, cari- bou, deer, bear, buffalo, of a particular area. Each animal killed had to be brought back to camp, and the young hunter could not partake of it himself, but had to sit in state while others feasted and figuratively or literally sang his praise. In a tenu- ous fashion this same practice extended to the first berries or roots, that a girl gath- ered; and occasionally, to her first efforts as a collector of firewood, and to her first attempts in handicrafts, particularly during her puberty confinement. The ninety- one reference statements given below indicate how widespread and fundamental such practices were in the life of the American Indians. Eskimo: "The day when a boy makes his first kill is one of feasting, demanding the observance of special customs in order to ensure good hunting for him in the future." Birket-Smith, p. 155. Eskimo of Greenland: When a boy catches his first seal -an entertainment is given to the neighbors and members of the family, during which the young adventurer relates how he accomplished the feat. The guests express their surprise at his dexterity and praise the flesh as peculiarly excellent. Afterward the females begin to think of choosing a wife for him. Crantz, 1:150. "Before the bear could reach open water the old man had it cornered. Instead of killing it, how- ever, he waited until a little boy, who had never got a bear because he had no dogs, caught up with him. Angulidluatssuk let him spear it first.... That evening as we camped on the ice and cooked the meat there were no words fine enough to praise the young man whose first bear it was." Killing a seal is the first step toward becoming a man. Freuchen, pp. 61, 126. Eskimo of Kotzebu,e Sound: The first bag of berries or roots collected by a girl was subject to ceremonies similar to those performed when an animal was killed by a boy. Stefansson, 1914, p. 340. An informant who was asked to give a brief story of tribal life included the first-game ceremony as one important aspect. "Dances were held as soon as boys made their first kill of each kind of game. Our fathers gave it to all the old people.... My father gave a great feast ... when I killed my first game, a ptarmigan, which I shot with an arrow." He added that all his first catches were given away and it was not until afterward that he had his lips pierced for labrets and was ready for marriage. Curtis, 1907-1930, 20:167-168. When a girl is able to perform her first task or to pick her first berries, the event is celebrated with storytelling. When a boy kills his first game his proud father often gives away presents. The meat is distributed among the guests. Ibid. Copper Eskimo: "No ceremony marks the attaiAment of puberty by either girls or boys.... The first significant event in a boy's life is the killing of his first caribou or seal. His mother usually makes a pair of trousers for herself from the caribou skin: in the case of the seal practically all the meat is cut up and distributed among the other families in the settlement. By either method the parents make public pronouncement that their son has attained the first stage of manhood and has become a productive member of the community." Jenness, 1936, p. 158. Eskimo, of Baffin Land: "The education of the Eskimo boy all turns on hunting. All sorts of curious observances wait on his first adventures in that line. When he secures his first weasel, for instance, he gives it to the Pettitt: Primitive Education in North America 77 dogs ... and that night has to sit by the igloo door, one hand on his hip and in the other a lamp stick.... When he gets his first bird, Young Hopeful sits in the middle of the sleeping bench, his mother on one side, and his grandmother on the other.... The two women wrench the bird apart between them in a sort of tug of war, to the accompaniment of cries of congratulation." Bilby, pp. 144-145. Eskimo of the Ungava district: "Among the younger boys and girls, of 10-12, there is a great spirit of cheerful rivalry, to prove their ability to secure such food as they are able to capture.... Ceremonies of some kind attend the capture of the first slain animal of all the more important kinds." [This last is pre- sumed to mean first game in an individual's life.] Turner, pp. 191, 201. Eskimo of Labrador: When a boy caught his first seal, the father went about with his eyes gleaming and announced: "Illa, Illa, Martin angusimavok" ("Martin has quite caught a seal"), as much as to say, "My son is a grown-up hunter now; he is a man." Everybody rejoiced and the boy cut up the seal and distributed it as was the custom on this occasion. The father enlarged on the event and pictured the boy's future life in roseate terms. Hutton, pp. 223-235. Iglulik Eskimo: When Aua grew strong enough to kill his first seal, his father had to lie naked on the ice while the carcass was dragged over him. The meat was divided and given away. Only men could eat it. A similar ceremony marked the boy's first caribou, which could not be killed with a gun but had to be brought down in the old way with bow and arrow. The first walrus was marked by a cere- mony also. Only when this series was completed could the boy share in luxuries such as entrails, or avoid other taboos. Frequently a candidate for shaman's powers is put to the task of bringing down a raven with arrows. Not just any raven, but ostensibly one selected bird which he may have to follow for weeks. Rasmussen, 1929a, p. 117. A boy's first seal was dragged over his own naked body rather than that of his father. The skin of the head was -given to some old woman so she would have a bag for her wick moss. The tips of the flippers were kept for a year and then buried. The meat of the first animal must never be eaten by the boy, but must be distributed to all in the camp and consumed quickly. A child's life is hemmed in by many taboos not lifted until he has shown his maturity by killing a bearded seal or a walrus. Ibid. Central Eskimo: A boy's first game has, the added significance that it is the only meat aside from that killed by her husband which a woman can eat after childbirth. Boas, 1884, p. 609. Nunivak Eskimo: When a child kills the first of any species of animal his father distributes gifts. The pelts of such animals are saved as a record, because it is only when a certain series has been killed that the boy is eligible for marriage. Announcement is made at the annual midwinter ceremony, specifically on the eleventh day of the Bladder Feast, of what animals a boy has killed during the year. The boy stands on a sealskin with his head wrapped in dried intestines while the whole village sings to him, and his mother distributes tallow as refreshment. Curtis, 1907-1930, 20:63. Diomede Island Eskimo: Girls are reared and instructed by their mothers. At intervals in their childhood, such as when they have caught their first tomcod or picked their first berries or greens, they are given a feast. There is no puberty ceremony for boys or girls. A feast is given in honor of the boy for his first kill of each of the various species and kinds of animals used. The animals are given away to the man who officiated at the boy's birth and gave him his first parka, which signified that he would take special interest in the boy's training as a hunter. As a mark of honor the boy's head is shaved when he sueceeds in killing a polar bear. When he kills his first sea lion a great feast is given and he has the honor of having his head shaved again, including even eyebrows. Before a boy can marry he must have killed four of the larger sea mammals. Ibid., p. 120. King Island Eskimo: Boys are honored by a feast when they catch their first fish. The first bird they kill is skinned and dried and a dance given. A boy must cut his first sealskin into lines and lashings and present them to the villagers, as well as sleep at the door of the igloo for four nights without cover, using some ivory tool as a pillow. When he has captured the whole series of animals, songs are composed for him and the women begin casting about for a suitable wife. Ibid., pp. 103-104. Eskimo of Cape Printce of Wales: When a boy kills his first bird, the skin and the bow and arrow concerned are laid away. The villagers call to congratulate the family and receive gifts. At the following winter ceremonies, when the men's house is opened, a feast is given to the boy and the birdskin and the weapons are 78 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. burned. A boy cannot marry until he has killed both seal and sea lion. He cannot live with a wife until he has presented to her a complete suit of fur made from his own kill. A girl must distribute the first.berries and plants she collects to the old men and women. Ibid., p. 148. Salawik Eskimo: A boy never keeps his first game. He either has it cooked and distributed to the villagers, at which time a feast is given and a dance held in order that all may know what he has done, or he may present his kill to the parents of a girl looked on with favor as a future wife. If the gift is accepted it is equivalent to a betrothal. A girl gives her first berries or fish to the old people of the village and they publicly express their convictions about her future while they eat. Ibid., p. 227. Kobuk Eskimo: A boy is honored by progressively more important feasts with each new and larger animal that he kills. The skins are presented to the medicine man. The meat is distributed to the villagers, as are also the first berries gathered by a girl. Ibid., p. 209. Eskimo of Hudson Bay: _ "A sept ou huit ans, l'enfant accompagnera son pere A la chasse. S'il est habile, on se f6licite de l'avoir 6lev6 selon les vraies ragles de la sagesse. On garde quelques bouts de peau, quelques os de son premier caribou, de son premier phoque.... En cas d'insucces repet6s, on lui imposera de nouvelles regles en s'enformant des fa?ons de faire de ceux de son age qui sont plus fortun6s." Turquetel, p. 423. Eskimo (locale unspecified): "The mother came to the entrance of our kom-mong, her whole frame shaking with joy, while she told the news ... that her son had harpooned and killed- a seal in its hole. Then she went from kom-mong to kom-mnong notifying the women ... and started off with all speed to meet him.... As she met him, the dogs were stopped and the joyous mother embraced her darling successful boy, then stopped and patted the seal as if it were a live pet." As the seal was dragged farther, all of the villagers slashed meat from it until nothing was left but those parts reserved for a victorious hunter. Hall, p. 171. Kutchin (Peel Biver): The first-game ceremony is one of the three important events of the individual's life, ranking with his birth and his funeraL "When a boy kills his first big game, his father invites all the people near at hand to a feast." Special food is served in great quantities. The father makes a speech praising his son as a new hunter in the community. Some outside old man then rises to eulogize the young hunter, his fatter, and all his ancestors, and to impress on the crowd how for- tunate it is to have in its midst such a great line of food providers. Such ceremonies are particu- larly stressed for the oldest boy in the family. Osgood, 1936, pp. 120-121. Tanaino: A young man's first killing of big game, along with marriage, death, etc., is the signal for a feast. At Kachemak Bay this achievement permits him to carry wood into the sweat house and to invite all the men for a good sweat. Afterward the men feast on his catch. He gets only the leavings, if any. Idem, 1937, pp. 147, 163. Indians of the Great Bear Lake region (Dogrib, Yetlowknife, Hare, and Slave): Feasts were given to a boy after he caught his first pelt of value and after his first kill of a moose or caribou. Idem, 1933, p. 87. Dogrib: The importance of the first-game ceremony is indicated by the fact that StefAnsson's guide, on passing through an area where he had lived as a boy, thought it important enough to stop in order to show where he had killed his first duck, and he remembered the exact spot. He remarked that his parents had given him a fine feast with plenty of tea. Stefinsson, 1914, p. 174. Cree: The parents dry the meat of the first animals that a child kills and save it until there is enough for a feast. The feast is a ceremonial affair with an offering of meat to the fire and a speech by some respected old man who prays for the boy's continued success. When a girl experiences her first menses she must gather a great pile of wood, and all the women of the village scramble for it and carry it away, saying that the girl is certainly a grown woman, and wishing her all success. Harmon, pp. 297-299. A young boy's greatest ambition Is to kill a bird. Much ado is made over it when he does. Regard- less of how small, he brings it in, and itJis carefully prepared for cooking. The boy gets none, but all members of the family join in: g a bite. The object is to teach him to share with others. Flannery, 1936, p. 50. Pettitt: Primitive Education in North America 79 Snake and Copperhead: The boys are incited to begin hunting and trapping early, and their first success in trapping a beaver, shooting a martin, or spearing a muskrat is celebrated with as much triumph as is the first scalp taken in battle by a young warrior. Brayton, p. 21. Ojibwa: When a boy kills his first game he is host at a feast to which guests are invited. Densmore, p. 72. The years devoted to vision pursuit are also devoted to acquiring techniques of hunting, trap- ping, and fishing. Boys are taught to throw stones, use a pea shooter, and a small bow and arrows. The first animals killed, even accidentally, are praised inordinately, and feasts are given. "A boy's life is full of never-ending incentives to personal achievement." Landes, 1937, p. 118. Neighbors, especially men, were invited to share the feast when a boy killed his first game, so that they might invoke the blessing of the Great Spirit on the household and encourage the lad to further efforts. Jenness, 1935, p. 94. There is a ceremony called "Ooshkenetahgawin" given in honor of a boy's first bird or animal. It is always turned into a feast. The first small game, such as a bird, squirrel, duck, etc., makes the first feast. The second comes when he kills a bear, deer, or buffalo. It is given because it destines the boy to take his place among the braves and noted hunters. Jones, p. 97. John Tanner, a white captive, reports that when he killed his first bear the hunters were sent for and there was a great feast. Similar practices prevailed for the first buffalo, the first sturgeon, the first elk. He recalls that when he first went among the Ojibwa, as a boy, he was treated most unkindly by the warriors until he managed to kill a pigeon. He was praised for this, and thereafter treated with more respect. Tanner, pp. 38, 54, 58, 59, 62. The grandfather or grandmother gives a little party when the grandson shoots his first bird. In the same way a feast is prepared when a youth of the lodge kills his first bear, elk, or other large game. The latter festivities are also more or less accompanied by religious or mysterious rites. Kohl, p. 86. A boy's hunting education is assiduously attended to by his father. He is told how to make traps and deadfalls, how to stalk, how to mimic animals, and tricks of light and scent are explained. When he kills his first bird he is acclaimed extravagantly and a feast is given, during which the great hunters tell of their achievements one after another until the boy drops off to sleep. Landes, 1938, pp. 11-12. Great Lakes area: "The male children are early instructed in the arts of the chase. It begins as soon as they are capable of walking and running about. A tiny bow and arrow is given ... as soon as he acquires strength he is encouraged to fire at small birds or squirrels. The first evidence of success is ex- travagantly praised, and the object killed, however small, is prepared by the females for a feast, to which the chiefs and warriors are ceremoniously invited." A hunter without mentioning it may put some animal into the trap of a child who is learning to make and set snares. Whereupon a feast is held, old and young invited, and applause resounds through the lodge. Schooleraft, p. 50. Shuswap-Thompson: At the time of puberty a girl spent an entire year practicing various household arts under instruction. She made bags, mats, baskets, thread, twine, embroidery, etc. But she kept nothing that she made. It was hung on trees along popular trails. Teit, 1909, p. 587. Thompson: If a boy gave the first squirrel, chipmunk, or grouse that he shot to some old person to eat he would be lucky and shoot more. Teit, 1900, p. 320. Sanpoil: The first deer taken by a boy had to be divided among the townspeople to the exclusion of him. self. The first game and the first fish caught by a boy were the occasion for feasts. The first roots and the first fruits gathered by a girl were recognized by similar celebrations. The feast was not an elaborate one, but outside guests were invited. For a boy, it was in charge of the men; for a girl, of the women. The child was present but was not allowed to partake of any of the food. The elders gave educational lectures. Ray, 1932, pp. 26, 133. Wishram: The first fruits of labor was an occasion for celebration for both boys and girls. The most strik- ing aspect was the love and the concern over the child's success evinced by the parents. When a girl was old enough to pick a great quantity of huckleberries the old women were called together and the berries were distributed. When a boy caught his first salmon and again when he killed his first deer or bear, there was a similar ceremony. All the elders gathered to eat it. Spier and Sapir, pp. 261-262. 80 University of California Pub lications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. Flathead: The first important event in adolescence was a feast given by the father, to which all old men and women were invited to pray for the child's success. This happened when he killed his first real game. His face was painted. There was no other puberty ceremony. Turney-High, p. 81. YNsqually: At puberty a girl was kept busy making mats and baskets, all to be given away to old people. Eaeberlin and Gunther, 1930, p. 49. Kiallam: A boy's first salmon must be given to an old womant who cleans it, and friends are invited in to feast. It is a celebration, and if he can afford it the boy's father gives away presents. The same happens when a boy kills his first game animal. At puberty a girl makes mats and baskets, which must all be given away, usually to the aunt or grandmother who attends her in seclusion. Gunther, 1927, pp. 203, 238, 240. Klamath: The first fruits of a young hunter or root gatherer are altogether special. They must be aban- doned. A boy cannot touch the flesh of his first deer. A feast may be given, with presents dis- tributed. A girl destroys the first roots she collects by burning them, and the second lot must be distributed. Spier, 1930b, p. 168. Tolowa: The first time a boy brought food for the household he earned a new shredded-tule apron. The first time he speared a fish the same thing was repeated. Du Bois, 1932b, p. 251. Pomo: At puberty a girl was obliged to shell, leach, and cook acorns for a feast. All complimented her on how good the food was. Loeb, 1926, p. 272. Wintun: A youth was not permitted to eat of the first or the second deer which he killed. Curtis, 1907- 1930, 14:93. Yucki: A boy never ate any of the first animal of each species he caught, whether fish, rabbit, or small or large game, lest he lose his luck with the species. Eroeber, 1932. Tiibatulabal: [Autobiography of Yukaya.] Remembers that he first hunted wood rats with bow given by father; then rabbits, and quail, and pigeons. Everything he shot he carried to his father and was praised for it. Voegelin, p. 223. San Juan Capistrano Indians: "The most singular practice was that in the case of the youths when they went to hunt cottontail rabbits, ground squirrels, or deer, one of them could not go alone, and therefore at least two of them went, for he who killed the game could not eat of it." If a boy were to try to eat his catch in secret he would get pains in his body and start wasting away. To protect himself all people must participate in his kill. Harrington, 1934, p. 46. Desert Cahuilla: A boy could not eat any small game he killed, or take it home. Usually he gave it to the head of his mother's family. There is reference to deer being taken to the clan house and a ceremony held followed by a general feast. It is not definitely stated to be the first deer, though one may surmise on the point. Strong, p. 77. Dieguenio: A boy cannot eat anything he kills until he is pronounced an adult. Spier, 1923, p. 336. Iuaneiio: The regulation that a hunter, apparently a young one, must not partake of his own game or fish was adhered to tenaciously. Kroeber, 1925, p. 643. Owens Valley Paiute: A boy might not skin or eat his first game. His first deer was carried to the sweat house. His grandfather cut a loop of flesh from it just below the ribs and passed it over his body from head to foot without letting it touch. There was talking. From then on he could sleep in the sweat house and could smoke. Steward, 1936, pp. 293-294. Paiute: The significance of the first game is i4ndicated by fact that in Paiute autobiographies the subject of the first deer is brought up, in one case because of success in getting it, and in the other, because the individual concerned never could seem to kill one. He shot one once but it got away and later Pettitt: Primitive Education in North America 81 his cousin and an uncle found its carcass partly consumed by buzzards; so he got no credit and they took the hide. Idem, 1934, pp. 425, 434. Boys are introduced to maturity through hunting deer and mountain sheep. Before that they hunt only small game. They never eat what they kill. When a boy is old enough to use it he gets a strong bow heavy enough for large game, decorated with eagle feathers, and goes after such game. When he succeeds the hide is cut in a long spiral coil. The boy stands with quiver on back and bow in hand while this coil is thrown over his head five times. After this he can eat his own game, and in fact do what he likes, for he is a man. Hopkins, p. 50. Surprise Valley Paiute: A boy was not allowed to eat his first game, otherwise he never became a successful hunter. When he had shot his first deer or antelope he was required to go through a set procedure after which the food taboo was removed and good luck assured. He had to step through a hoop of serviceberry branch while calling all the animals. I. T. Kelly, p. 80. Havasupai: Boys are first taken on real hunting parties at about the age of ten. They cannot eat their own kill. Earlier they have been urged to learn to kill small animals so that it will be easier to kill a deer when the time comes. A boy cannot touch his first deer. His grandfather Bays it and eats the liver himself. Spier, 1928, pp. 322-324. Yavaho: At puberty a girl grinds corn herself, makes cakes, bakes them, and then gives them away. Reichard, 1928, pp. 136, 139. Son of Old Man Hat recalls that he felt proud, as a boy, when his father finally made him a bow that would shoot with some force and he killed a rabbit with it. Dyk, p. 71. Apache: Rabbits were hunted only by boys. Each notable event was celebrated by a feast. No boy was allowed to smoke until he had hunted alone and killed large game-wolves and bears. Barrett, pp.21,25,29. Pimna: A boy made his debut as a hunter by killing a deer, and gave away all of it. Russell, p. 191. Tewa: The first animal killed by a boy is offered to the head of the society of hunters, who gives the boy a new bow and sheaf of arrows. The first three bluebirds he kills must be presented to the summer cacique. Curtis, 1907-1930, 17:6-7. Isleta: Boys were not allowed to smoke until they had killed a coyote. [Parsons implies this meant Navaho. This meaning may be questioned as recent.] Parsons, 1929, pp. 218-219. Eopi: During the ceremonial visit of the disciplinary Katcinas, boys are ordered to catch rabbits and they must save these rabbits until the Katcinas return a few days later. If the boy cannot catch a rabbit and offers only a rat, he is badly frightened by threats to carry him away if he does not do better. Finally, parents have to buy off the Kateinas with mutton. Steward, 1931, p. 69. The disciplinary Katcina distributes seeds to the children to use as bait in catching game with deadfalls "and whatever game they capture she wants a part of it when she next comes around to their houses." One particular disciplinary Katcina, Nata'shka, is called "The Hunter" and comes carrying a bow and arrows. He demands meat, apparently fresh game, as a bribe to go away and leave the children alone. On one occasion when the parents tried to offer mutton instead of game, which the children did not have, the Katcina lassoed the boys about the neck, threw them down on the ground and threatened to saw off their heads. Then he threw the boys' father and an elder brother on the ground, threatening to cut off their heads; meanwhile the boys stood around cling- ing to their mother and screaming. Stephen, pp. 184, 188, 243, 254. When a boy kills his first rabbit he is, or should be, initiated as a hunter. The reason for having boys do this is illustrated by the anecdote of a grandfather crippling but not killing a rabbit. He directed his little grandson to catch and dispatch the animal. Then he was told that he was eligible for initiation as a hunter. He ate no meat or salt for two days, and a ceremony was held over the dead rabbit's body. On the third day he was ceremonially bathed, dressed, and painted as becoming a Katcina, and a ceremonial rabbit hunt was set for the next day with the boy as chief. Curtis, 1907-1930, 12:46. Muskogee: [Story of Tokulki of Tulsa.] Boys were given blowguns and darts, and later bows and arrows, and were publicly praised when anything was killed. Swanton, 1922, p. 132. 82 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. Indians of North Carolina: Boys receive a name when they become hunters or warriors at age of sixteen or seventeen. "It is an established custom amongst aU the Natives in these Parts, that the young Hunters never eat of that Buck, Bear, Fish or any other sort of game which happens to be the first they kill, because they believe that if they should eat thereof, they never would be afterwards fortunate in Hunting." Brickell, pp. 307, 367. Chickasaw: [Quoting Adair: ] ""When a young man killed his first game of any sort he did not eat it himself, but distributed the meat among his clansfolk." Swanton, 1926, p. 222. Absentee Shawnee: Gayawah, a half-breed, recalls that when he was about ten and considered old enough for serious training on the hunt, his face was blackened and he was started on a fast which would not end until he killed a rabbit, squirrel, or quail. The fact that his face was blackened indicated a fasting mission of some kind and no other person in the camp would feed him. It took him two days to aecomplish the feat. He also recalls that there was a great deal of rejoicing when later he managed to kill a deer. Alford, pp. 25, 31. Shaumee: [Quoting William Penn:] Shawnee boys could not think of marrying until they had developed their proficiency as hunters and had the pelts to show for it. Harvey, p. 13. Mohawk: A boy captive recalls that when he succeeded in killing his first rabbit with a bow and arrows given to him, he was greatly complimented, and later when, out of pure ignorance, he attacked a wildcat with an ax and managed to dispatch it, he was immediately promised a wife, though he was hardly more than twelve years old. Quaife, p. 42. Indians of Pennsylvania: When a lad has killed his first game, such as a deer or a bear, parents who have boys growing up will not fail to say 1 some person in the presence of their own children: "That boy must have listened attentively tohe aged hunters, for, though young, he has already given proof that he will become a good hunter." Heckewelder, p. 170. Menomini: Shared with the rest of northern Algonkians the custom of having a feast and sacrifice to the gods when a youth slew his first big game. Skinner, 1913a, p. 43. Plains: A boy practices with bow and arrows incessantly from the age of four years on, and by the time he is nine or ten years old he is killing many "small deer" such as larks, doves, thrushes, spar- rows, rabbits, gophers, ground squirrels, etc., for which he is greatly praised, particularly by his mother to whose delectation this game is dedicated. Dodge, p. 415. Crow: A boy hunted birds and rabbits at eight or ten years of age. When he shot his first deer, it was the occasion for a ceremony. His achievement was praised publicly by a song celebrating it. Lowie, 1929, p. 175. [Story of Takes-the-Pipe.] When the boy killed his first cottontail, his father called in a re- nowned warrior, gave a feast, and sent him to lead the boy around camp on horseback, loudly proclaiming the boy's prowess in a laudatory chant. Idem, 1922b, p. 18. When a boy shot his first deer it was customary to give him a ceremony, with dancing and laudatory songs, similar to that accorded when a boy returned from his first successful war party. A father often gave feasts for his son, inviting clansmen in to make little speeches and convey some intangible to the boy, such as success in hunting, or in battle, or longevity. Idem, 1911, pp. 201-202. Hidatsa: [Narrative of Wolf Chief.] He recalls the praise which he received when he killed his first buffalo at the age of about seventeen. Wilson, 1924, p. 307. Blackfoot: [Story of Smoking Star.] When-the boy killed a buffalo cow he was greatly praised and pro- nounced a hunter. Following that he began to think of a future wife and began to practice on the flageolet, although it was still necessary for him to win war honors. Wissler, 1922a, p. 49. Sioux: [Autobiography of Luther Standing Bear.] "One day my father took me out to shoot a bird. He instructed me how to crawl along the ground to get near my quarry.... This day I killed my first bird. The event brought a thrill to me. When we arrived back to camp, my father was so Pettitt: Primitive Education in North America 83 happy that his son had killed a bird. He notified the camp crier that his son 'Ota Kte' had killed his first bird, and that Standing Bear, his father, was giving away a horse in consequence.... On this occasion the horse was given to an old man who was very poor.... Now I began to feel that I was a very big boy." Later, Ota Kte happened to be out with an older youth when a deer was killed. He did not himself kill the deer, but received a portion of the meat to carry back because he was one of the party. "Then father called the old camp crier to announce that his son Ota Kte had brought home his first meat and that Standing Bear was giving away another pony in conse- quence. This pony was given to another old man. My father felt so proud of me that he was happy to do this." When he killed his first buffalo the same thing happened. He gave the skin and the kidneys to his stepmother. Luther Standing Bear, 1928, pp. 10, 12, 65. Boys were so anxious to catch big fish and have people think well of them that they would kiss the small ones and throw them back in to encourage the larger fish to come to the hook. Neihardt, p. 65. Every step in a boy's life: birth, first step, ear piercing, first kill in the hunt, etc., was a public event. C. A. Eastman, 1911, p. 93. Oto: "Boys were instrueted in the arts of hunting at a very early age. The first game a boy shot with his little bow and arrow was usually presented to a relative, preferably a close blood relative, and the boy in turn received a blessing. This was also an occasion for honoring by the giveaway. When a young man killed for the first time an animal such as a deer, he presented the head either to his father or grandfather.... The Oto can no longer give a reason for this custom.... A man began to give early in life. The fruits of his first hunting he gave to his father and to his near relatives who in return blessed him.... A man might give away a horse in honor of his son's catching his first fish.... A man usually gave-away also when his child first walked.... The father acquired honor by seizing every opportunity of this kind to give away on behalf of his children.... By centering around the children they brought to a child's consciousness a realization of his place as a member of a family and as a member of a gens ... indirectly encouraged his conformity to family pat- terns." Whitman, pp. 6, 63-65. Saule and Fox: "When young Indians grow up to seventeen or eighteen and their fathers are hard to them, they leave their parents, but when the young Indian begins to kill deer, they are seldom spoken harsh to, on the contrary; they are flattered with silver works, wampum, vermillion, and other ornaments.... I know of no difference made between the children until the boys begin to hunt, then the mother shews a preference to the best hunter, or the oldest ... in giving them good leggins, mocosins, etc." Blair, 2:213. [Autobiography of a Fox Indian Woman.] At about nine years of age her mother told her to plant her own little garden. When the rest of the family was hoeing weeds her mother gave her a little hoe and said: "Say, you weed in your field." When harvest came she was told, "Say, you must try to cook what you have raised." When she did the family all ate of it and praised the food for the way it tasted and the way it was prepared. She was very proud. Michelson, 1918, pp. 297-298. The Sauk, Fox, Kickapoo, in common with Ojibwa, Ottawa, Pottawatomie, etc., have a great number of feasts for children. They all make a feast of the first deer, bear, elk, buffalo, etc., a young man kills. Even the first small bird that a boy kills is preserved and makes a part of the next feast. There appears to be a great deal of secrecy and ceremony in preparing for these feasts. Blair, 2: 168. Cheyenne: Little boys eight or ten years of age killed numbers of small birds with their arrows, and some- times even killed them on the wing. When successful they were praised, and when little birds were brought in they were cooked and eaten quite as seriously as any other food. The first large bird, or the first rabbit, he exhibited to the family with no little pride, in which all shared. At twelve to fourteen years of age a boy went on his first buffalo hunt after receiving careful instructions. "If on his first chase a boy killed a calf, his father was greatly pleased, and, if a well-to-do man, he might present a horse to some poor man, and in addition might give a feast and invite poor people to come and eat with him." The meat from the first kill might all be given away along with the horse which the boy had ridden in making the kill. Women who had accompanied war parties, women who had tanned skins and made a lodge alone, women who had quilled robes, formed limited and self-conscious groups in the nature of guilds or societies. There were ranks of prestige depending upon complexity of task, from making moccasins on up. There was a feast and cere- mony of completion for such a task, and some poor person was rewarded with a gift in order to have him go about camp shouting the woman's name and informing the populace what she had done. Grinnell, 1923, pp. 115-120, 159-165. 84 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. Osage: Before a youth could be initiated into the Wa-Xo?-Be tribal society he had to kill seven specified animals with bow and arrows and present their pelts: a lynx, gray wolf, puma, black bear, buffalo, elk, and a deer. The purpose of the ceremony of this society was to impress the public. La Flesche, 1927-1928, pp. 544, 709. Comanche: Clinton Smith, boy captive, relates that the Indians took great pains to help him kill an elk. They camouflaged him with boughs, gave him the best gun, and then beat the country to drive an elk to him. When he succeeded in shooting one, and they returned to camp laden with meat, the chief of the group publicly praised the boy and expressed great pride in his achievement. C. L. and J. D. Smith, p. 133. The underlying motive of all these practices would seem to be the stimulation of learning, and achievement of the skills of maturity; even though the motivation might be unconscious in many instances, as among the Oto, where no reason could be given for the first-game ceremonies (see comment under Oto, p. 83). At the same time we are dealing with the method by which primitive societies of North America inculcated habits of generosity and food sharing, especially with reference to the aged members of the culture group. That method, again, is essentially one of linking desired behavior with praise of a public and ceremonial nature, with the removal of taboos commensurate with the degree of achievement, and with the adding of privileges in accordance with the same criterion. Erikson, in his study of Siouan educational problems,2 has pointed out that habits of generosity were established, in part at least, by patient example on the part of the parents, concerning their own property and concerning the child's property rights. The evidence here supplements that observation. It also indicates further why American Indians were so sensitive to praise, and its inhibitory counterpart, ridicule. From an anthropological point of view, it is of interest that the first-game cere- mony is most highly elaborated in areas where hunting was the fundamental method of obtaining food, and especially where hunting was largely an individual pursuit. The Eskimo is the outstanding example. But it is of significance that in the South- west area, where hunting had gradually declined in importance and agriculture had become the predominant economy, practices equivalent to or reminiscent of hunt- ing cultures may still be detected in the behavior of the ceremonial Katcina disci- plinarians (see comment, p. 81, under Tewa, Isleta, Hopi). The only major area for which evidence seems to be lacking is the Northwest Coast, at least among those central tribes where group fishing was the predominant form of economy. We might wonder whether the development of group activities on the basis of older, individ- ualized, food-gathering pursuits, would not lead to the incorporation of the more widespread individual, first-fruits rite into the annual first-fruits rite participated in by the whole group, as found in the Northwest and in other places where com- munal labor tends to replace the efforts of semi-independent individuals. More surely we may conclude that public recognition of economic achievement was a widely distributed practice and probably a very old one. Logically, as pointed out in the beginning of this section, concern over the developing proficiency of youth in economic pursuits would be one of the earliest expressions of pedagogical activity on the part of parents or of the groups which served as societal anlagen. It may be suggested that proof of ability as a hunter was the principal criterion of maturity in embryonic cultures, and that public recognition of such proofs was probably prototypic of tribal initiations or so-called puberty ceremonies for boys. This is in harmony with Lowie's conclusion: "It thus seems possible to consider 2 Erikson, p. 141. Pettitt: Primitive Education in North America 85 ceremonialism par excellence,... a relatively recent trait superimposed on a series of simple, routine procedures."8 Study of the available evidence justifies the further conclusion that even in more recent times, and after the elaboration of many ceremonies, ability as a hunter still continued to be one if not the primary mark of maturity in boys, rivaled only, in some areas, by the acquisition of war honors. The obtaining of a guardian spirit is not included among these primary criteria because it, like maturity, had to be proved by success in practical pursuits, and was more a rationalized explanation of maturity than a proof of it. Physiological changes in the body, per se, were not accepted as signs of maturity, apparently, but merely as indicators of the age at which a youth should make overt attempts to demonstrate his maturity. Maturity had little to do with outside appearance, but was more intimately related with capability and general behavior, which were in turn treated as coming from some internal, spiritual reservoir, fed in devious ways by the eternal springs of the supernatural. Scores of field observers have made estimates concerning the age at which primi- tive children began certain activities or passed through specific ceremonies. The consensus of these estimates is that primitive people very seldom knew or cared about exact chronological age, and that, as with religious ideas, they never gave thought to it until Occidental visitors expressed curiosity on the subject. It was much easier to determine when a boy was able to hunt big game by observing his success at pulling a regulation bow than by counting how many summers he had lived. Modern civilization, by contrast, finds it easier to count years, in establishing its educational calendar, than to measure pull on a bow, either physical or intel- lectual. Sarah Winnemucca Hopkins says of Paiute boys, that they began to hunt big game when they were strong enough to pull a bow;' Wilson indicates that the strength of a Hidatsa boy's legs, or his ability to stay on an unbroken horse, was one criterion of maturity.! The indefinite statement "when they are old enough to keep a secret" is the primitive's most frequent estimate of age for initiation.' The development of a girl's mammary glands is occasionally alluded to, as is also the change in a boy's voice. Curiously enough, almost all references to voice change as an educational milestone were connected with the vision quest in the Northwest.' Occasionally, a boy is said to be growing up when he dreams of women and war, not necessarily in the same dream, of course. The idea of maturity as an internal awak- ening of some kind, is most strikingly exemplified by the Ojibwa, who, observing the flash and bang of gunpowder, occasionally fed it to their children in order to awaken their souls.8 It was recognized that none of the accomplishments of maturity could be taught until the soul was awake. In North America the final test of ma- turity, however, or of ability in any line, was a demonstration of the strength, skill, or behavior required. Actual achievement, particularly in economic pursuits, was the basic criterion of stage of maturity. Even spiritual development was measured on an economic basis to a large extent, for to the primitive mind there was little economic success without supernatural inspiration, and little supernatural inspira- tion that did not express itself in such success. To a certain extent, ability in economic pursuits also determined the state of 'Lowie, 1914, p. 605. 4Hopkins, p. 50. 6 Wilson, 1924, p. 152. 'Eastern Pomo: Loeb, 1926, p. 343; Zuni: Parsons, 1919b, p. 172; Cochiti: Dumarest, p. 146. 'For the Coast Salish: Curtis, 1907-1930, 9:85; Siciatl: Hill-Tout, 1904a, p. 32; Lummi: Stern, p. 18; Klamath: Spier, 1930, 71; Shuswap: Teit, 1909, p. 588. 8 Jenness, 1935, p. 48. 86 University of California Pubblications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. maturity of young females, though Nature provided for them definite evidence- menstruation-of the onset of maturity. Because of this there was a tendency to con- centrate preparation for and demonstration of other proofs of maturity at that same point in the life cycle. This same tendency would not occur so frequently with boys because of their more gradual pubic metamorphosis, and also because the relative complexity of hunting as contrasted to root and fruit gathering, and the greater length of time required to achieve a minimum practical proficiency, would associate better with diffuse and seriate ceremonies. Probably the first menses are the outstanding influence on the stressing of a single ceremony of initiation or in- duction at the age of adolescence, and the occurrence of such ceremonies for boys, regardless of the fact that maturity was proved in other important ways, implies a transfer of the idea from what was originally a girl's rite. Summary Evidence shows that first-game ceremonies for boys and first-fruits ceremonies for girls are more widespread in North America than has previously been recog- nized. It is pointed out that the acquisition of economic techniques by primitive children is not dependent on spontaneous imitation but is carefully directed and stimulated by ceremonial recognition of each new achievement in skill, with attend- ant use of group praise, remission of taboos, and prestige and privilege rewards. These widespread practices are a further explanation of the sensitivity of the American Indian to praise and ridicule, and of his characteristic habits of gen- erosity and communal sharing of food. Finally, the distribution of the trait, and other factors concerned with first-game and first-fruits rites, together with the primary importance of the food quest, imply a considerable antiquity for these rites and that they are probably prototypic for initiations and so-called puberty ceremonies. It is probable that the development of rites classifiable as puberty ceremonies is more closely aligned with recognition of maturity in girls than it is in boys, and that where puberty per se in boys appears to be recognized it is probably a secondary development influenced by girls' puberty rites. Pettitt: Primitive Education in North America 87 VIII. THE VISION QUEST AND THE GUARDIAN SPIRIT THE WIDE DISTRIBUTION and relatively intensive development of the vision quest and the guardian-spirit concept in North America have led to the recognition of these traits as two important cultural characteristics of this area, and the vision pattern has been cited as the unifying religious fact among primitive tribes of the continent. It is not my purpose to discuss these practices as discrete entities, for that has been done at some length by Ruth Benedict.1 Instead, I will indicate the relation- ship of these practices to educational procedures, and suggest, from an analysis of the functioning of the vision quest and the guardian-spirit concept in the process of intellectual and emotional development of the individual, that there is a funda- mental kinship or social equivalence between these and other primitive practices involving the idea of supernaturally derived power. Incidentally, some light will be thrown on the essential nature of the psychic experiences supposedly involved in the vision. In discussions of the vision quest and the guardian-spirit complex, it is usual to cite the Thompson Indians of the Plateau region of western Canada as the people who have accepted or developed the greatest number of traits which are typical of the complex wherever it is found on the continent. The Thompson Indians are said to present the type picture of vision questing and the acquisition of a guardian spirit.2 Therefore, the salient features of Thompson Indian practices are outlined below. According to Teit,8 boys when old enough to dream of an arrow, a canoe, or a woman began an intensive search for a guardian spirit. This happened, usually, between the ages of twelve and sixteen. More will be said about the age of beginning the vision quest later, but it is important to recall that earlier reference has been made to the daily cold baths which many Indian boys were obliged to take, to food taboos, and to physical tests of one kind or another which enlivened the youngster's life from the time he was able to walk and run until he became a man. The begin- ning of the vision quest was perhaps a climax to these practices, rather than the introduction of a new discipline. The Thompson Indians are typical in this respect. They were given to annual, midwinter ceremonial whippings, also, in which the ob- ject was to frighten boys too young to be whipped, and encourage the stoicism of those old enough to volunteer for the ordeal. This, too, may be classed as a prelimi- nary of the vision quest. But when a boy's dreams became propitious, regardless of chronological age, his vision quest began in earnest. As a ceremonial beginning he was required to run, with bow and arrows in his hands, until bathed in perspiration and on the point of exhaustion, when he was made to plunge in cold water. This was repeated four times a day for four days. The importance of the quest on which he was about to start was stressed by a coat of red paint on his face, a cedar bark or skin headband, ornaments of deer hoof tied to knees and ankles, and a skin apron symbolically decorated to indicate the life occupation for which he was most desir- ous of gaining supernatural power. The boy was; in other words, the center of public attention in this as in other aspects of primitive education. He was probably envied by his younger friends, and admired by the elders of the camp, and the pride Benedict, 1922; 1923. 'Idemn, 1923, pp. 10-11. ' Teit, 1900, pp. 317-321. 88 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. engendered undoubtedly would help him to survive the not inconsiderable ordeals through which he had to pass. Although his first four days were consumed in run- ning and bathing, the first four nights were given to dancing, singing, and praying, with little or no sleep, around a fire on some 'near-by mountain peak. At dawn the boy solemnly drew his bow and discharged an arrow into the sky. Having acted out the prologue, the boy then began to work in earnest. He went on lonely pilgrimages into the mountains, staying away from home and eating nothing for from four to eight days on end. It was a common practice to schedule these pil- grimages in winter, so that the boy would not be tempted by berries and roots. Dur- ing these vigils the boy usually took nothing with him but a fire drill and a sleeping mat. He intensified the effect of his fasting by taking herbal concoctions with a purgative action, and by poking long twigs down his throat until he vomited. He also heated rocks, threw water over them, and sweated himself thoroughly, perhaps whipping his body with nettles at the same time. Then he would plunge into a moun- tain stream, following which he would gather the warm rocks from the sweat bath, start across country throwing the rocks as far as he could, running to pick them up, and throwing them again, to insure himself against disease, ill fortune, and laziness. To vary the monotony he might set up a small target at a considerable distance and shoot at it with an arrow. If he missed he would pick up the arrow, run about four miles, and then try his skill again. If he continually missed he might run all night. If he was unable to hit the target before dawn he knew that his greatest talents would not be exhibited as a hunter. But if he shot some small animal and gave it to some old person to eat, that would improve his chances. The boy continued this exhausting regime until he had a dream of some animal or bird which would be his protector through life, and received the inspiration for a spirit song with which to call his protector and secure power in all he might attempt. Often a father, if possessed of great power himself, would give his boy some amulet symbolic of his own guardian spirit, to dream over. It was believed that this was an effective way of encouraging the same or another guardian spirit to take pity on the boy. When the boy believed that he had an important dream, one that he did not quite understand, and which gave him a queer feeling, he would mention it to his father, and discuss the interpretation. If the conviction came to him that he had received a spirit-inspired dream or vision, he prepared a medicine bag of the skin of the spirit animal, and filled it with other objects which in the course of his quest had for some reason taken on significance. These were the tangible symbols of his power. If the spirit was that of a bird he gathered feathers from that bird and tied them to his hair. Then he polished his spirit song as suggested by his vigil or perhaps by remarks dropped by his father, and worked out a design sym- bolic of his power with which he decorated rocks in lonely parts of the mountains. The more this and similar stories of Indian vision quests are studied the less satisfactory does it seem to classify the acquisition of a guardian spirit, as most writers do, in the category of religious education. There are too many other factors involved. As indicated earlier in this study, it is impossible to do justice to primi- tive pedagogy if educational practices are arbitrarily divided into religious and nonreligious. The Indians of North America had no specifically named, conceptual category equivalent to our generalization "religious." They undoubtedly could have differentiated between the natural and the supernatural if they wished, but they apparently saw no reason for so doing; and if a classificatory system which they did not use is applied to their practices, the result is to confuse the issue. To discuss primitive religious education seems to be as futile in reaching a complete under- standing of primitive pedagogy as would be a treatise on the moving parts of an Pettitt: Primitive Education in North America 89 engine as distinct from the stationary parts in reaching an understanding of the mechanics of the device. There is no doubt that religious concepts are involved in the vision quest and in the idea of a guardian spirit. But they were not used in the modern sense of escap- ing from things of the flesh. Rather, they were utilized in a practical attempt to give greater assurance of achieving comforts of the flesh. Morals and ethics were linked with religious practices and beliefs, but not so much through fear of the hereafter as through a desire to establish a reciprocal trade arrangement with the super- naturals whereby success in the daily routine could be achieved. There was little implication of worshiping supernatural beings for what they had done in the past, or might do after death. Greater stress was laid on the immediate future, and grati- tude entered the picture strongly only if we define it as a lively anticipation of favors yet to come. Rasmussen relates an experience among the Eskimo which clearly illustrates this attitude.' In September, 1907, he visited a group of Eskimo living in pristine paganism untouched by Christianity. In June, 1908 he visited the same group and discovered much to his surprise that, to the last man, they had been converted to a curious version of Christianity. Their former religious prac- tices had dropped into the background. The reason for this sudden change, ap- parently, was a visit by a partly Christianized Eskimo hunter from a distant area. The garbled Christian prayers this man utilized as hunting charms seemed to be far more efficacious in attracting caribou; so the group dropped old practices and adopted the new. Later, when the prayers failed to work as well as expected, they advanced the theory that the white man's prayers, like his guns, wear out with use, and presumably they went back to their traditional beliefs. As Radin states: "Can we, without further analysis, calmly assume that fear is the primordial emotion with which men began ? The answer must be definitely in the affirmative, but not in the sense claimed by most ethnological theorists. They are fond of treating it as an instinct (fear of the dark, fear of the unknown, fear of the strange). But psychology aside, what does the documentary evidence we now possess for primitive cultures tell us? The answer is clear. Primitive man is afraid of one thing, of the uncertainties of the struggle for life."' It may be added that the fear was not entirely of death, but rather of failing to live successfully. It is not necessary to elaborate on the nature of primitive religion. The point to be made is merely that in the vision quest and the acquisition of a guardian spirit the objective was not to produce a disciple of a religious faith, but to produce an independent, self-confident, and self-reliant personality, buoyed up by an inner conviction of his ability to meet any and all situations. The painful ordeals through which the individual achieved a guardian spirit had a significance of their own, apart from increasing the susceptibility of the individual to a psychic experience. They strengthened his character, and supplied him with experience in withstand- ing physical suffering, which was probably just as important in giving him self- assurance as was the conviction that a supernatural being had extended a sheltering arm. That the individual's social and economic well-being was the objective is attested by evidence of many kinds. That a conviction of power was the goal is clear when we take into consideration all the other ways in which this goal was sought, through conferring power-freighted names, and through associatingwith and study- ing under men and women reputed to have power. It is pertinent to note that among the previously cited Thompson Indians, where the vision quest was a dominant feature of a boy's training, and to a certain extent 4Stef nsson, 1913, pp. 415-420. 6 Radin, 1937, pp. 22-23. 90 University of Californid Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. of a girl's as well, twin children were excused from the ordeal because they were believed to be born with more than ordinary spiritual power derived from "Grizzly Bear."' Apparently their obvious advantage over their age mates in the ownership of a twin brother or sister, plus special ceremonies for them, and special rituals that they had to observe, were sufflicient to give them the inner conviction of self- sufficiency and of supernatural affiliation without long vigils. The way in which this inner conviction worked can be illustrated by a statement from the life of John Tanner among the Ojibwa. He explains that his foster mother, as a young girl, had been blessed with a dream in which she saw an aged, white-haired woman walking with two canes. She had a conviction that this was herself and that it meant that come what would, she would live a long, long time. Tanner concludes: In all her subsequent life, this excellent woman retained the confident assurance that she would live to extreme old age, and often, in times of the greatest distress from hunger, and of apparent danger from other causes, she cheered her family ... and roused them to exertion by infusing some part of her confident reliance upon the protection of a superior and invisible Power.7 Because the vision quest and the acquisition of a guardian spirit are commonly given their greatest overt expression as boys and girls approach maturity, this complex is often spoken of as a puberty-linked phenomenon. Actually, however, as has been intimated in the discussion of the Thompson Indians, the process of acquir- ing and maintaining power started in early childhood, and continued through maturity. The beginning of the quest has also been ascribed to individual initiative and imitation. The facts run contrary to this conclusion. The acquisition of power was not left to the individual's imitative faculties, at least as a general practice. It was urged upon him with an insistence inversely proportional to the amount of supernatural power he was believed to have inherited from famous forebears, or obtained as a gift from famous elders, or acquired from propinquity to powerful individuals, in connection with the name he bore, or ceremonies gone through, or personal property such as amulets, or articles of dress or use, or songs and prayers and rituals. In other words, the vision was just one of a number of ways, though the most important, perhaps, of obtaining an inner conviction of self-sufficiency, both as one personality among many in the social group, and as a seeker after long life and comfort in the theater of nature. Lowie finds that a Crow boy at the time of his vision quest did not need any prompting.8 We may suspect that this is so because the prompting had taken place earlier, for human beings are not born with the desire to go on a vision quest. Elsewhere Lowie stresses this point, that the Crow youth is conditioned to the vital importance of a vision from infancy up. In the autobiography of Crashing Thunder, the Winnebago, it is pointed out that from earliest childhood, boys were encouraged to blacken their faces and to practice fasting in order some day to be able to obtain a vision.' Among the Omaha, "small boys seven to eight years of age and upwards were sent out together in the early morning with faces covered with clay by their parents to one of a few selected spots. This happened every fine spring morning.... They were technically fasting as they went out before breakfast."" Ohiyessa, the Sioux, states that his grandmother started him on the trail to the Great Mystery at the age of eight.' Maximilian reports for the Hidatsa: "There have been instances of fathers subjecting their children, a Teit, 1900, pp. 310-311. 7Tanner, p. 289. 8 Lowie, 1924b, p. 15. 9Radin, 1926, pp. 1-3. 10 Fortune, p. 37. Similar practices occurred elsewhere in the Plains. For the Iowa see: Skinner, 1915, p. 739. C C. A. Eastman, 1902, p. 101. Pettitt: Primitive Education in North America 91 only six or seven years of age, to these tortures. We ourselves saw one suspended by the muscles of the back, after having been compelled to fast four days."' For the Parry Island Ojibwa it is said: The Ojibwa held that the Great Spirit, or his intermediaries, the manides, imparted [knowledge, power, or ability, the indispensables to success and happiness] in visions to each individual at the earliest possible age, that is to say, as soon as the soul and shadow were sufficiently awake to under- stand and appreciate them. Consequently, they carefully trained their children to make them recep- tive of these "blessings." They encouraged the children to dream, and to remember their dreams. Every morning, even now, Pegahmagabow lies beside his two boys, seven and nine years old, respectively, and asks them what dreams have come to them during the night.28 When Pegahmagabow himself was about seven years old his parents made him swallow gunpowder to awaken his soul and shadow. Many boys are given charcoal and other substances for the same purpose, and are made to fast. These fasts become progressively longer until the moment has come when the child is psychologically ripe, either before, during, or after adolescence, and then solitary vigils are added to the fasting." Landes confirms these data for the Ojibwa of western Ontario, stating that boys of four to five years are already under siege by their relatives, and are being urged not to rest content with the protection of their name-power, but to fast in preparation for a vision. A boy's face is blackened so that all will know he is fasting and encourage him. If a little fellow fasts all day he is rewarded by choice bits of meat in the evening. From this time until puberty there is a constant harping on "dreaming for power." The parents arrange a schedule of fasting, graduated to the child's age and strength and to their own fanaticism on the subject. He is greeted in the morning with the question: "Which will you eat, bread or charcoal ?" If he chooses bread he is cuffed and asked again.' Farther east, among the Delaware, it is reported that: Parents were especially anxiQus, of course, that their sons should have supernatural aid, hence, when a boy reached the age of about twelve years, they would frequently pretend to abuse him, and would drive him, fasting, out into the forest to shift as best he might, in the hope that some mani'te would take pity on the suffering child and grant him some power or blessing that would be his dependence through life." Sometimes Delaware boys were taken out on vigils by their fathers, and were given daily doses of some drug to cause vomiting. By practice, they were occasionally able to go for twelve days on end eating only one bit of meat as large as the little finger each evening.'7 To the west, in the Plateau area, the Nez Perce boy "began his preparation for spiritual attainment almost in infancy. The child, either boy or girl, when less than ten years of age, was told by the father or the mother that it was time to have... spiritual power." The boys were sent on progressively longer vigils to mountains as far as twelve miles away from camp, to fast and to keep a fire blazing all night.' Among the interior Salish, "children, especially boys, were sent at frequent inter- vals to solitary places, in order that one or another of these spirits might take pity on them. These journeys were begun early in life, among some tribes even at the age of five years." The first trip might be to the sweat house. Gradually the trips were lengthened, and to make sure that the child carried out instructions some task '2Maximilian, p. 378. Jenness, 1935, p. 48. 14Ibid., pp. 48-49. 1L5 Landes, 1938, pp. 2-4. H Harrington, 1921, p. 63. 17Ibid., p. 64. "' Curtis, 1907-1930, 8:63. 92 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. would be set, such as finding and bringing in an object previously left at the ap- pointed place by the anxious relatives of the youngster.' The practice of arranging some task in order to check on the child's fulfillment of instructions, was quite common among the border tribes of the Northwest Coast area. For the Wishram it is reported: A child began to train, that is, prepare for a spirit experience, when still quite young, six to twelve years old ("when he can talk plainly"). He was sent out at night... [to] finish an ap- pointed task at the designated spot. This was always stereotyped; piling up rocks, pulling up young oak or fir trees, or making withes of the saplings. The task was accommodated to the child's strength.'o Additional citations could be given to confirm the fact that children were care- fully trained for the vision quest from an early age, but those already given are representative, and sufficient to indicate that such practices were at least quite general if not absolutely universal. The training given was not exclusively religious in nature, even though its eventual purpose was to stimulate what might be termed a "religious thrill"-a pervading sense of having witnessed or experienced some mystery. Incidentally, the children were hardened to fasting, to cold and exposure, to pain, and to loneliness at night in isolated spots frequented by prowling animals. The general effect, obviously, even aside from a successful vision, was to build the kind of character that the Indians admired. Further evidence stresses the fact that the underlying idea of the quest for power and a guardian spirit was less the acquisition of religious tenets than the acquisition of an inner conviction of individual self-sufficiency, in which the supernatural played an important part because the ultimate authority for everything lay in that realm. Among the Dakota and Pawnee, for example, guardian spirits were obtained directly only by shamans. The lay individual merely had one assigned to him.' The Crow, Arapaho, Hidatsa, Winnebago, Blackfoot, and other Indians might purchase power as a commodity, as well as find it for themselves. Among the Hidatsa, Crow, Arapaho, Pawnee, Arikara, Omaha, and the Central Algonkian, the power might be inherited and had only to be confirmed by an inner conviction of its potency in order to be used.' This idea occurs also in the Northwest. We cannot be dog- matic on the subject of religious training among the North American Indians. All I desire to show is that the classifying of the vision quest and the acquisition of a guardian spirit as purely religious, in the modern conception of religion as a spir- itual concern divorced from practical or intellectual activities, is a mistake. The object of the training and of the experience was success in life. Conversely, success in life was a substitute for intensive courting of the supernatural. The person who could get power, an inner conviction, without following the normal procedure, was not universally looked down upon, but was considered fortunate. The average layman worried about the spiritual only if he lacked an inner conviction of his own capability and luck. Among the Ojibwa: Any Indian who through industry and good judgment is more successful than his neighbors rouses their suspicion that he possesses an unfair advantage; that his prosperity is due not to his natural talents and diligence, but to his acquisition of some powerful medicine which he carefully secretes from his fellowmen.m 1" Idem, 7:80-81. 20 Spier and Sapir, p. 239. For the Lummi: see Stern, p. 17; for the Sanpoil: Ray, 1932, pp. 182- 183; for the Snohomish: Haeberlin and Gunther, 1930, p. 68. -" Benedict, 1922, pp. 10-12. 22Ibid., pp. 17-18. 2" Jeness, 1935, p. 84. Pettitt: Primitive Education in North America 93 From the histories of Blackfoot ceremonial-bundle owners it is clear that the son of successful parents may procrastinate in his quest for power, whereas the young nobody is precociously assiduous.' In the biographies of twenty-three Plains In- dians it is clear that six never made a successful vision quest, but some of the six got along without it, apparently because they achieved a conviction of power in other ways.' Wissler states that there is often an implication that a man did not know he had dreamed power until he accomplished something worthwhile, then he decided that he must have done so.' The same implication is found in the story of an Oto recorded by Whitman.'m Littlerump, a Crow, confessed to Lowie: "All who had visions were well-to-do. I was to be poor, that is why I had no visions."' This confession is highly informative, for, among the Crow, a man could seek to have someone's power transferred to him if he could not get any of his own. The conclu- sion is that Littlerump was a man of little capability, and that this proved he had never been able to establish permanent contact with the supernaturals who doled out good fortune. He might have been very religious, and probably tried to be. The story of Hillside, another Crow, is also informative. He had been given very powerful medicine as a boy. But his first war parties were flagrant failures, and he lost his conviction of power in a wave of fear when he barely escaped from the last one with his life. While running away he decided he really did not have any medicine power. Then he fell to the ground exhausted, and had a dream, not of his own medicine but of his brother's. Thus he knew that he just had the wrong medicine, and when this vital mistake was rectified he immediately became successful.' In California, the same concept of power acquisition as a practical ai-d to success occurs. Kroeber says of the Yurok: A wealthy man exhorts his sons to accost visitors in a quiet and friendly manner and invite them to their house; thus they will have friends. A poor man, on the other hand, instructs his son not in policy but in means to acquire strength. He tells him where to bathe at night; then a being will draw him under the water and speak to him, and he will come away with powerful physique and courage." The important point in the Yurok curriculum for the training of the ideal, wealthy man was "concentration." Boys were told to concentrate on gaining wealth and to avoid thinking about anything else, especially women. Thus they became wealthy, and, naturally, along the way they must have acquired supernatural approval. Similar statements to the effect that poor boys had to seek power, and that a successful man knew he had power, and that certain people obtained power at birth, or inherited it, or received it by gift, are frequent in the Northwest area.2' The clearest statement noted in any field report is that for the Wishram: "Since the measure of success was held to be directly dependent on the extent of power, and this was held to vary from one individual to another, we cannot but conclude that "Wissler, 1912, pp. 72-82. "Curtis, 1907-1930, 3:182-190. "Wissler, 1912, p. 102. 2tWhitman, p. 87. 2' Lowie, 1922a, p. 323. 29 Ibid., p. 392. Among the Cheyenne, also, a boy might wait until after his first war party to find out whether he already had power, or whether he should search for it (Curtis, 1907-1930, 6:123). 30 Kroeber, 1925, pp. 39-41. a For the Siciatl: Hill-Tout, 1904a, p. 26; the Stseflis and the Sk.afilits: idem, 1904b, p. 325; the Klallam: Gunther, 1927, p. 289; the Shuswap: Teit, 1909, p. 589; the Quinault: Olson, 1936, p. 141. Among typical Northwest Coast tribes, particularly the Kwakiutl, only those fortunate enough to be born in the right families, or even in the right chronological order within a family, could hope for power that would assure success, and their vision experience merely confirmed the inherited right. In the terms adopted in this study, they sought merely for personal conviction of a supernatural power which was already theirs. 94 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. the actual causal sequence was the reverse: those who were successful credited themselves with unusual spirit power."' Additional insight into the educational significance of the vision quest and the acquisition of a guardian spirit is to be obtained from a study of the nature of the vision supposedly obtained by these primitive ascetics, on the one hand, and by an analysis of what takes place of a similar character in tribal groups lacking the vision-guardian-spirit complex, on the other. THE NATURE OF THE VISION Attempts have been made to differentiate between true visions and dreams. I believe that such attempts cannot lead to any fruitful result for the reason that a survey of ethnological materials reveals no clear-cut distinction of this type in the minds of either the observers or their informants. It has been said that the difference between a vision and a dream is that visions are always s-4pernaturally significant, whereas some dreams may have supernatural significance and others not. This distinction is not a true one because there is considerable evidence to show that even a vision may or may not have significance, depending on later events. The safest conclusion seems to be that reached by Ruth Landes about the Ojibwa: "It is evident that a 'dream' is any vivid imaginative activity; it may occur at any age in either sex; at any time of the day, night or season; with the visionary dozing, sleeping, or wideawake; on a full stomach or fasting, sought for or unsolicited.""f The real differentiation is one between significant and insignificant experiences, whether dreams or visions, as indicated by the impression made upon the recipient, and by the degree to which that immediate impression is confirmed or refuted by subsequent happenings. Forde, apparently, in his study of the Yuman type of dream concept, arrived at a somewhat similar conclusion: The dream-vision among the Yuma and the other Lower Colorado peoples is functionally similar and doubtess genetically related to the vision of the Plains and the east. Conceptually if not terminologically, there is a clear distinction between the power-bestowing dream, or dream-vision, and the less significant dream of everyday life.uf The fact that visions and dreams of significance invariably conform to some cul- tural pattern seems to offer a promising lead toward an understanding of the matter. Radin suggests that the reality of the dream-vision exists only in the psychically sensitive, or religiously inclined, and that others merely try to conform to this pattern under the authoritative urging of a priest class. He points out that many never achieved the experience, and that this was due to their inability to achieve that suspension of disbelief which is requisite to the appreciation of re- ligious sensation, or we might add, imaginative literature or art.' Erikson, in his study of the Sioux, raised a somewhat similar question from a purely psychological viewpoint. He says: These dreams and visions..,. belong to a standardized group of "official" dreams, the rough in- terpretation of which could be foreseen by the dreamer. Since in ordinary dream-life man has no command, even if hypnotized, over the manifest content of his dream, the frame of mind which allowed the Indian to have or to report with conviction one of the official dreams is hard to com- prehend.86 It is my conclusion that relatively few individuals actually did have the dream or vision, which they later claimed to have had, in its full elaboration. All that was 82 Spier and Sapir, p. 238. U Landes, 1938, P. 9. TMForde, p. 201. a6 Radin, 1915, pp. 277 fE; and 1937, pp. 10 ff. T1 Erikson, pp. 147-148. Pettitt: Primitive Education in North America 95 really necessary was a mysterious experience, a curious dream, if asleep; or a loss of consciousness, or optical or auditory illusion of some kind, if awake. The experi- ence might be such as any normal person would attribute to a rush of blood to the head, or to indigestion. The Indian, however, never passed over any such ex- perience without exhausting its possibilities as a sign of supernatural visitation, because he was conditioned to believe that every successful person had such visita- tions. His final decision on whether a particular experience did involve supernatural attributes might not be made until much later, when it became necessary to account for a great achievement. We know that all, or almost all, people are subject to physiological or neural dis- turbances on occasion. Aldrich points out that the image "eidetic" is common and normal in children. Curiously vivid or badly malformed revisualizations of things seen weeks before may occur.87 An otherwise normal person, as a result of anxiety, may overstimulate the autonomic nervous system, with a consequent reaction on the adrenal glands, the heart, and respiratory center, to such extent that rapid breathing will cause him to lose consciousness, or have convulsions.'8 Such results may also be due to various dietary deficiencies, of a type likely to occur among primitive children where a long lactation period is associated with taboos on the eating of fresh fruits and vegetables, or on the vitamin- and hormone-rich organs of animals, as occasionally occurs in North America. Inadequate mineral ratios in the diet, such as might be expected in children living predominantly on mother's milk and lean meat, have been shown to lead to curious neurotic conditions in animals.' When these and other evidences of the close relationship between the physical and the emotional are taken into consideration, and the living conditions of primitive peoples, not to mention the special regimes imposed on children, are placed in proper perspective, it seems justifiable to assume that the basic experi- ences supporting the dream and vision complex would not necessarily be limited to the religiously inclined. The preceding comments are particularly applicable to the child preparing for or actually engaged in a vision quest. Rather than conclude that only the physically abnormal would have some kind of an emotional experience, it might with more reason be suggested that only the subnormal, those absolutely devoid of sensitivity or imagination would come through untouched. The regime imposed on children in the vision-quest areas was a most effective procedure for assuring that the sub- conscious mind would come into play and that purely aberrational experiences would occur. Fasting and exhaustion were potent stimulants alone, without con- sidering the frequent accompaniment of purges, emetics, and neurotropic drugs. It may be contended that experiences of the type connoted above, vague, mysteri- ous upsets in the normal stream of consciousness or subconsciousness, as in dream- visions, were the raw materials out of which the guardian-spirit complex was built. The harmonizing of these experiences with the cultural pattern was a later, apocryphal activity, undertaken on the basis of rationalization of personal achieve- ments. The best evidence on this point is the fact that almost without exception a boy was not asked to describe his vision immediately. In fact, he was often for- bidden to do so. In almost all cases, a considerable time elapsed before the boy even ventured to hint at the nature of his experience, quite often after his ability as a hunter or warrior had been to some extent proved, and his inner convictions on power possession, and the type of power involved, had been supported by confirming experience. Even then, the vision owner might do no more than hint, and the tradi- 87Aldrich, pp. 98 ff. I' Kerr, Dalton, and Gliebe, 1937. Also Kerr, 1937. I9 Schmidt and Greenberg, 1935; and Duncan, Huffman, and Robinson, 1935. 96 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. tional pattern details were hung on the hint, so to speak. The fully elaborated vision or dream has seldom, if ever, been reported from other than very elderly natives. The extent and exact nature of this secrecy and of practices and beliefs associated with it are indicated by the following material, comprising forty references from the literature. Oglala Sioux: Black Elk in reqalling his first vision experience says: "I am sure now that I was then too young to understand it all and that I only felt it.... It was as I grew older that the meaning came clearer and clearer out of the pictures and the words; and even now I know that more was shown to me than I can tell." This vision supposedly had occurred during a serious illness at the age of nine years. At fifteen he was thinking about this vision still, not having mentioned it to anyone, and apparently still in a confused state, wondering when his power would grow. Seemingly, this early mysterious experience did not begin to take on a particular character until he went out on a regular vision quest at eighteen and went through the Horse Dance ceremony. He concludes, sig- nificantly: "I had never told anyone all of it, and even until now nobody ever heard it all.... Of course there was very much in the vision that even I cannot tell when I try hard, because very much of it was not for words." Neihardt, pp. 49, 151, 185, 209. Crow: The consummation of the Sun Dance was a vision. But the man who obtained the vision, dealing with his sought revenge, did not tell what it was. Later he might do so, perhaps, as he started on the warpath, or, perhaps, after he had demonstrated his power by killing an enemy. Lowie, 1915, p. 49. Omaha: It was believed that a person telling of his vision signed his own death warrant. For this reason a boy going on a vision quest had not heard any detailed personal vision story and even his father would not reveal his own vision until the son was old enough to make a considerable payment for it, and the father, presumably, was old enough not to care. Fortune, pp. 39-40. "It cannot be said that solitary visionaries see the traditional pattern independently when the traditional pattern is a deep secret. It seems clear that the vision is a society owned privilege which is handed down. We have direct evidence for this." Ibid., p. 73. The vision was "his personal connection with the vast universe, by which he could strengthen his spirit and his physical powers. He never gave the details of his vision to anyone, nor was it even casually spoken of; it was too sacred for ordinary speech." Fletcher and La Flesche, 1911, p. 131. Oto: Visions which did not prove true were not real visions. A vision conferred no prestige, honor, or privilege unless it reflected itself in the achievements of the individual. A boy's vision was not considered until he proved himself. An old man's vision was ignored unless he was successful in life. Visions were not supposed to be told. Visions represented contact with the supernatural. Dreams might also, but not necessarily so. Whitman, pp. 86-87, fn. 82. Blackfoot: "We hwave not been able to determine whether these experiences are limited to real dreams or include vivid day-dreams and sudden emotional bursts of thought and imagination." Each dreamer swears his ritual and narrative are exactly as dreamed, but he usually gets advice later, and "we feel reasonably certain that the advice is in most cases an interpretation, a deliberate composition of a ritual.... There are reasons for believing that the fundamental conventionality is the tendency to assign a dream origin to everything of importance on the theory that everything is to be truly explained by such phenomena." They seem to believe that if anything comes into mind at all, it must result from a dream. Wissler, 1912, pp. 101-104. Canadian Dakota: The apocryphal nature of dreams is indicated by the fact that it is quite common to say that the dream occurred before birth. Men were supposed to receive instructions to give the Sun Dance in a dream. But sometimes when a man became sick a shaman would tell him that he had ignored a Sun Dance dream, and then the man would have to wrack his brain to remember which dream it could have been, perhaps one he had forgotten about because it did not seem important. Wallis, pp.328,331. Lenape (Delaware): Most persons who have had a guardian-spirit dream cannot be induced to tell any of the details, although those who had them were known because they were especially invited to the annual Big, Pettitt: Primitive Education in North America 97 House Ceremony. This ceremony had to be precipitated by one who had had a vision as a boy. Each alludes to his vision in the ceremony and on the strength of it gives advice. M. R. Harrington, 1921, pp. 66, 92, 121, 132. Menomini: Parents watched a boy carefully during his secluded vision fast. They asked him frequently whether anything had happened, but they apparently asked for just enough information to tell whether the vision could be classed as good or bad. Even this degree of confiding to parents is mentioned as exceptional in American Indian practice. Skinner, 1913a, pp. 42-43. It is forbidden to mention the name of any supernatural seen in a vision. Ibid., p. 44. Northern SalteauLx: The Indian recognizes that an individual must try hard, but nevertheless believes that the essential difference between a successful hunter and an unsuccessful one is his dream-created guardian spirit. A man does not speak of his guardian spirit nor narrate his dream; if he did his power would be lost. Hallowell, p. 398. Ojibwa: During guardian-spirit fasts, boys pay careful attention to all dreams. The parents ask the general character of these dreams to make sure that an evil spirit is not in action, but if birds, clouds, sky, or some other favorable symbol is included they interrupt the boy immediately, stating: "It is well, my child, say no more about it." Tanner, pp. 288-289. "These dreams are always kept secret by the Indians. They think about them their whole life through, as a mighty mystery. Only on their dying bed would they speak about them, and describe the dream to their relations." Kohl, p. 203. "Every boy, the Indians say, received a vision and a blessing of some kind or other.... None of these blessings took effect, however, until the boy reached manhood.... Indeed, so strictly individual were they that no Ojibwa might even declare his vision until he reached old age, under penalty of losing the blessing altogether." Jenness, 1935, p. 50. "Parents do not consider it proper to ask a child about a vision. But they note all signs, such as loss of appetite in the morning, because the child may not be aware that he has had a super- natural visitation." Landes, 1938, p. 3. Parents warn their children not to discuss their dreams and halt them if they should thought- lessly do so. But the exercise of power in later life requires the recitation of the vision experience, and eventually they become generally known through gossip channels and help to set the stage for the oncoming generation of vision seekers. Ibid., pp. 9-10. Cree: A boy might tell his father or a shaman that he had had a vision-dream experience and ask for advice. But "no one ever told what had been revealed during these dreams." Skinner, 1911, pp. 61-62. Flathead: [Story of a Flathead boy]. He is warned in advance not to tell what his vision is. Curtis, 1914, p. 211. Nez Perc.i: A boy never told of his vision. He might, however, sing his guardian-spirit song at the annual Guardian Spirit Dance, and people would try to guess. Some of the songs defied interpretation, however. Spinden, pp. 249, 263. If a boy had a name which supposedly had come to him in a vision, he did not say anything until after he had gone to war or grown sufficiently to sing his song in the Song House and have it accepted. It was believed that one reason why questing made successful hunters was that they sweated, purged, and vomited so much they no longer had a human odor and animals could not detect them. It is apparent that boys who have supposedly had visions do not always have a song. This actually comes later, when, under the emotional excitement of the midwinter ceremony, they dance themselves into an exhausted collapse. Their moans and mumblings are recognized as a song trying to get out; so the elders obligingly listen to this gibberish, and with a certain amount of poetic license, compose a song which is presented to the boy as his own, when he recovers. Such songs may lie dormant in a person for ten or fifteen years after a vision before they can actually be reduced to words. Curtis, 1907-1930, 8: 64-66, 70-71. Salishan tribes of the coast: "Every detail of the vision experience was cherished as a closely guarded secret until the indi- vidual reached manhood or womanhood." After maturity, an illness would be taken as a sign that the possession of the vision should be revealed. The individual gave a feast and sang the song that ostensibly had come to him in the vision. Iden., 1907-1930, 9: 103, 158. 98 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. Interior Salish: "In most of the tribes the custom was that one who had seen a spirit would not reveal the fact until he had attained maturity, when at a performance of the winter ceremony he would sing his sacred songs and tell what he had seen and what the spirit had said to him.... The Flathead, how- ever, like the Plains Indian, kept his secret until there was occasion to make use of his power, as when he was wounded or in great danger, or when he wished to expel sickness." Idem., 1907- 1930, 7:81. Siciatl of British Colum.rbia: The acquisition of supernatural helpers, Sulia, was kept secret. Not all men had them, but all shamans, distinguished hunters, fishers, warriors, or runners, or those who excelled in any par- ticular line invariably claimed to have them. Hill-Tout, 1904a, pp. 26-27. Puget Sound Indians: Usually a person did not reveal the nature of vision experiences until he was forty to fifty years old, after time enough had elapsed to prove abilities and elaborate an explanation of them. Haeber- lin and Gunther, 1930, p. 76. Lummi: "The nature of his spirit experiences is a secret and he is feared for his possible power and strength." A man does not demonstrate his power carelessly; only when there is a real reason, and then he uses no more than the occasion requires. Stern, p. 21. Klallam: "When a person returns from a spirit experience he does not tell of it immediately, for if he does he could never put his power to use. Sometimes a man keeps his experience secret for a year, though usually the acquisition of a new spirit was revealed at the next potlatch." This revelation, however, consisted merely of singing a song symbolie of the experience. Gunther, 1927, p. 290. Kutenai: The nature of the vision experience is a secret, and the identity of the spirit is not specifically revealed, although people can guess what spirits a man must possess by the kind of things he does well. Ray, 1939, p. 72. An old woman says: "I have never told anyone what my dream was. I did not use the song until I was grown and a mother, when in an attack by the Piegan, I sang my song, and though the enemy were many, I was not injured." She adds that her own father heard her singing and told her that she had the same power and song as himself, so he gave her a bear claw which went with it. Curtis, 1907-1930, 7:129. Yakima: A person's vision acquisition was not revealed until much later in life. One informant claims to have had a vision at ten, but he did not use his song until when at fifty he was kicked by a horse. Ihid., pp. 10-11. Sanpotl: "The psychological state most conducive to a vision is that semi-conscious condition just pre- ceding awakening. Add to this the physical conditions inherent in the quest-nakedness; inclement weather (often); portentous sounds of the night; strange, spirit-infested surroundings where even adults would fear to tread; abnormal activity such as playing a game with a row of rocks, which may at any moment come to lif e-and it is surprising that a quest ever fails to result in a vision.... The vision is of a highly formulated nature.... The boy or girl immediately returns home but does not reveal the outcome Gf the quest to anyone." Ray, 1939, p. 69. Wishram: "It does not seem possible that anyone would maintain failure in his quest for power. The very secrecy maintained about one's spirit experiences offered opportunity to keep that fact concealed until occasion should arise when some success was achieved to hint at the possession of power. It does not seem clear that the lad who returned from his quest admitted anything more than that he had an experience, without revealing its content. Again, at spirit dances those with power hinted at their spirits by their actions, but no more. The full revelation came only at the point of death when all the details were recited. Under such conditions the stage was set to assume a very close causal relationship between spirit power and material success.... It may be that in this ... the Wishram conform to the more general American view." Spier and Sapir, pp. 238-239. Confirmation of the statement above appears in Curtis, 1907-1930, 8:101. Klamath: Spier and Sapir mention (p. 238) that the Klamath appear to be an exception to the general rule concerning secrecy. But Curtis (1907-1930, 13:177) states that the Klamath boy never told what vision he had in his guardian-spirit vigil, thereby indicating that the usual praetice did prevail. Pettitt: Primitive Education in North America 99 Achomawi: "Mais il vaut mieux que tu n'en parles a personne, ni A ton pere, ni a moi, ni a personne. II vaut mieux que tu n'en parles i personne. Ne dis A personne qui c'est ton tinihowi. II est pour toi. II n'est pas pour personne d'autre." Such are the instructions given to a young boy, perhaps by his uncle. De Angulo, p. 155. Northern Maidu: Anyone who has a vision keeps his experience secret. "He never tells anyone what he saw till he grows to be an old man." Dixon, p. 267. Hill Maidu: Loeb quotes Curtis to the effect that vision experiences were kept secret. Curtis' reference state- ment was not found. Loeb, 1933, p. 159. Cahuilla: A boy might have visions as a child. Shamans usually claimed this; but they did not say any- thing about it until they were sure of their power later in life. Then they sang their songs and danced. Curtis, 1907-1930, 15:32. Yuma: "You know how some men are quick and strong and know the things to do, how people like to do things for them, and how they have a gift for getting everybody cheerful. Well, those men were leaders. When a man knew he had the power to be a good leader, he told his dreams.... If a leader acted stupidly, it meant that his power had deserted him and it was time to have another decide things !" Forde, p. 134. Paiute: Shamanistic power came early in life, perhaps at five or six years of age, in a dream recurring until the meaning was grasped. At puberty, tunes or songs in the dream-a doctor's most impor- tant possessions-were comprehended, at first as vague, distant humming, later taking form. At thirty or forty years of age, his songs ready, his power said: "You are ready to announce that you are a doctor. Call the people together a certain night and sing your songs to them." A young man who announces having power will come to no good end. Steward, 1936, p. 312. As noted above in the references under Oglala Sioux and under Paiute, the attitude toward the vision and guardian spirit was the same among shamans as among laymen. It may be added here that the special profession of shaman was an outgrowth of the idea of internal conviction of personal power backed by the super- natural. As a general rule, the shaman's power differed from the ordinary tribes- man's in quantity rather than quality, or in degree rather than in kind. The educational aspects of shamanism will be discussed in Section IX. The conclusion to be drawn from the evidence presented in the material above, that the vision is a later elaboration of a relatively simple psychic experience, is further confirmed by frequent references suggesting that the length of fasting, the severity of the ordeals, the amount of pain suffered, and so forth, were a measure of the power received. If the vision were a reality, such criteria would have less importance. Logically the lad with the greatest supernatural approval would be he who received a message most easily. This again relates to the thesis that an important objective of the vision quest, even though an unconscious one developed gradually out of tribal experience with the educational problem, was to cultivate character and other aspects of the culturally ideal personality. If the conclusion is accepted that the vision quest and the guardian spirit were not only an end in themselves, but a means to a more fundamental end-the creation of a self-confident member of society whose inner conviction was strong enough to withstand storm and stress-then it is possible to see the equivalence of practices found in North America where the vision-quest and the guardian-spirit ideas did not occur in the typical, elaborated form. Among the Eskimo, for example, there was no vision quest of the ordinary type except for shamans, but as pointed out previously (above, pp. 59-75), every child had a guardian spirit passed on to him with his name, at birth or shortly there- after. In addition, it was customary to provide children with amulets which they 100 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. wore about their necks thereby to gain power derived from some animal of which the amulet wa.s symbolic. And to supplement this power a youth sought to acquire magic formulae from his successful elders in order to make things go right.' In their function, and in their evaluation, these formulae differed little from the vision song of other areas. Another voyager in the north says that every Eskimo had his per- sonal guardian spirit, his Tongak.' The importance of amulets in the life of the individual is mentioned by Rasmussen again, for the Caribou Eskimo.' Curtis says of the Nunivak Eskimo, "The possessor of a talisman acquires supernatural power through the spirit of the animal, bird or fish which it represents." Usually these talismans are inherited by a son from his father. Also, hunters have sacred hunting songs which they sing softly as they prepare their kayaks. They often have their sons squatting beside them listening closely so they will learn the song and have it to use later. Songs have power.' The same- idea is also present in the notion that a good hunter has spirit power and a poor one has none, regardless of what amulets and songs he may have inherited or acquired. Rasmussen states that it is an insult to ask a successful hunter whether he is thinking, because that implies that he is worried, and that he does not have power. Only a poor man has to think." Some- thing akin to an embryonic vision quest is reported for the Iglulik Eskimo: on clear moonlit nights the boys run out a distance from camp where the snow is unmarked, and say to the moon, "Give me luck in hunting." Then they seize some snow, run back, melt it into water, and keep it in a vessel as an offering to the seals who live in salt water, but are animals and must therefore be very thirsty.' Another area in which the concepts of the vision quest and the guardian spirit are virtually nonexistent is the Southwest, or Pueblo area. Benedict" states that the absence of the vision complex in the Southwest is the most surprising example of cultural resistance or cultural reinterpretation of which we have record in North America. She adds that: The formal elements are found there: the seeking of dangerous places, the friendship with a bird or animal, fasting, the belief in special blessings from supernatural encounters. But they are no longer instinct with the will to achieve ecstasy.... In the pueblos they go out at night to feared or sacred places and listen for a voice, not that they may break through to communication with tEe supernatural, but that they may take the omens of good luck and bad.... The objective per- formance is much the same as in the vision quest; in each case, they go out during the preparation for a diffieult undertaking ... but the significance is utterly different. There is no question that we are conscious of a marked difference between the vision quest of other areas and Pueblo practices in which vision-quest elements are identifiable. As Benedict has so clearly demonstrated elsewhere, the entire Pueblo culture conforms to a pattern which can be described as the antithesis of patterns of culture in which the typical vision quest is fundamental. The former is described as Apollonian and the latter, in those cases studied, as Dionysian, in spirit as well as practice. The ideals to which a Pueblo aspires, and the achievements which give him a sense of satisfaction, are, in most instances at least, totally different from the ideals and achievements of individuals living in vision-quest areas. However, it is questionable whether the significance of Pueblo practices is utterly different from the significance of those followed elsewhere. The object of both seems to be the acquisition of an inner conviction of readiness for tasks ahead, of a sense of con- 40 Rasmussen, 1908, pp. 139-140. 41 Bilby, p. 208. 42 Rasmussen, 1929b, p. 48. 4 Curtis 1907-1930, 20:15-16. 4Rasmussen, 1908, p. 117. 46 Idem, 1929a, p. 75. 4" Benedict, 1928, pp. 575-576. Pettitt: Primitive Education in North America 101 fidence concerning the world, tangible and intangible, which will override enervat- ing doubt and vacillation. Both employ isolation at night and long contemplation. The vision quester seeks for a more intimate rapport with the supernatural by artificial heightening of his pitiable condition. But in the end he achieves exactly what his fellow human being achieves, a feeling that he has done what he could to influence fate. In keeping with the more emotional and violeut spirit of his culture, he hopes for some ecstatic confirmation of his success with the powers of the Great Beyond; but it is my opinion that more frequently than not he achieves this ecstatic confirmation, if at all, after his vision quest is over, during the emotion-arousing rituals of the midwinter dances of his people, in the midst of a crowd, not alone. There is little hint of ecstasy in the return of a youth from a solitary vision quest. He is rather worn-out, humble, and quiet. As another example of a vision quest which illustrates this point, the vivid account given by Stern for the Lummi of the Northwest area may be cited.'7 A boy is prepared for his vision quest from early childhood by dramatic stories of legendary heroes and his famous ancestors. By- standers interrupt the stories with enthusiastic comments. The first objective of training is to give the boy confidence and make him fearless. He is sent out on dark, stormy nights to perform trumped-up errands, such as fetching a bow or some other article from a friend or relative living at some distance. The errands probably grow progressively more difficult. The status of childhood is made uncomfortable by depriving him of the best foods, discriminating against him, making him bathe in cold water, morning and night. At the slightest breach of this discipline, which he knows will end when he proves his manhood, his father becomes enraged, and may throw burning bark in his face. As he grows older the rigor of his regime increases. He is instructed to rub his body with cedar bark to toughen his muscles. His father tests his stamina from time to time by cutting gashes in his body, starting with the more calloused parts and working up to the more tender. He is stimulated to greater efforts by the warning that he will turn into a girl unless he watches out. In fact, these warnings are often taken so seriously that a boy rubs his breasts with sand until they bleed, or smashes the nipples between rocks to stop a fancied over- development. Finally he is ready to make his quest. He goes to some secluded spot and seeks by his endurance to outstrip all other boys of whom he has heard, thereby winning the favor of the supernaturals. He is told to observe everything closely and to concen- trate as he wanders about fasting and diving deep into lakes. He watches every living thing, every bug, every swaying bush, every crawling snake, every buzzing fly, waiting for some out-of-the-ordinary occurrence which will apprise him that he has come to the end of his quest. If rocks assume strange shapes in the darkness, he must stand his ground, in fact run toward them and grapple with them, for they may represent the bear that will give him medicine power, or a wolf that will make him a hunter, or a salmon to make him a fisherman, or a raven to make him wise, or some other bird that will make him an orator. The boy may stay away from his village for a year or even four years. He does not have one great moment of exhila- ration, apparently, but through living alone and thinking constantly, he builds up a sense of self-sufficiency. Many curious things may have been noted, but so far as can be determined, they are merely the raw material on which visions will later be embroidered. He returns to the village, then, and the populace turns out to welcome him with a new respect, and considerable awe. He does not parade his vision-seeking experiences. In fact he is chary about revealing his spiritual power at any time. He participates in a dance ceremony and drops his nickname to receive a highly 47Stern pp. 17 ff. 102 University of California Pub lications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. respected ancestral name. That helps him, too, for it is an incentive and an encour- agement. For the first time he may wear a blanket, and childhood taboos are gradu- ally removed. From such accounts as this we do not get the impression of a religious ecstasy. It is an ordeal out of which the boy comes humbled in spirit, but with a new dignity and certainty of purpose. Even in the solitary vision quest of the Plains, where self-torture is more pronounced, there is a grim hysteria discernible, but no clear evidence of the type of religious ecstasy that we find individuals undergoing, for example, in a present-day revival meeting. I find in the literature little to disprove this opinion. There is fainting from sheer pain, and loss of rational action from the same cause. But only in group activities, the Sun Dance proper, or secret society initiations of the Northwest Coast, to cite another example, do we gain the impres- sion of frenzy derived from spiritual hallucinations. Certainly the Southwest differs from the Plains and the Northwest Coast, which present the vision or guardian-spirit concept in neurotic elaborations; but it may be at least suggested that the psychological result of these practices is not so different as the outward forms, and the cultural ideals of personality, might imply. At Cochiti a boy might be forced to bathe even when the weather was such that a hole had to be broken through the ice. It was believed, also, that if a boy had courage enough to go alone to bathe in the river four nights consecutively, and if he stood his ground when he felt anything under the water, he would be a successful warrior, and would never be wounded.'8 This is certainly reminiscent of the vision quest. In the Katcina initiations at Hopi, Steward points out that some boys go through an ordeal of running twenty to thirty miles, and then they must stay awake the whole night, walking through the silent village, talking to themselves to bring luck. In another kiva the running ordeal was preceded by a day of sitting motionless with flexed knees. Then there is the ceremonial whipping by the disciplinary Katcinas whom the boys have been taught to fear. Again, this is reminiscent of vision-quest preparations or ordeals. The difference is in the explanation of the practice. The boy is not seeking an experience which will give him a basis for a culturally pat- terned vision and guardian spirit. But he does, by this means, eventually derive a supernatural prop for his inner conviction of adequacy through the acquisition of a Katcina mask. It is reported that the Pueblo Indian gets no particular thrill out of wearing his Katcina mask; that he is merely hot, tired, and worried for fear he will make a mistake in the dances.' Fewkes, however, states that a man who dons a mask is temporarily believed to be transformed into a Koko god.' Regardless of the truth of this, there seems to be little question that the masks are possessed of great super- natural significance, they have "power," and are to be treated with respect not only by their owners but by all people in the pueblo. At Zuini, as Bunzel explains, The power of Kateina ceremonies resides in the masks which, whether ancient tribal property or individually owned modern masks, are believed to contain divine substance, by means of which the Katcina whose representation is worn "makes himself into a person" ... the masks are repre- sentations of the dead, and indeed, the very substance of death.u Again, "The mask is the corporeal substance of the Katcina, and in wearing it a man assumes the personality of the god whose representation he bears.... The mask par- takes of the attributes of the god."' 8 Dumarest, pp. 144-145. '9 White, 1935, p. 101. 'I Fewkes, p. 284. I Bunzel, 1929-1930b, p. 844. 52 Ibid., pp. 847-848. Pettitt: Primitive Education in North America 103 The relation between the mask and its owner is reminiscent of the relationship between a man and his power-freighted personal name or vision experienc.l in other areas of North America. Similarly, too, masks are obtained with public consent, usually by successful and respected men. Others have great difficulty in obtaining them, if they get them at all. The person who secures permission to have a Katcina mask made for himself speaks of it as bringing the spirit of an ancestor back to life-"I want my father to be made into a person." He must prepare for this event ceremonially, and give a feast. He is whipped until the blood runs down his back. Then the Kiva chief prays to the Koko gods and explains that arrangements have been made to take care of another spirit of the dead and will they please send him back to Zunii. It is apparent that the possessor of the mask has something equiva- lent to a guardian spirit or an amulet containing spirit power in his possession when he achieves a Katcina mask. This is confirmed by the care which he takes of the mask. It must be kept in a special cover. It is fed at every meal. A person must take off his shoes before entering the room. The effect of having a Katcina mask in the back room, so far as a feeling of security and self-confidence is concerned, can- not be greatly different from the effect of a vision conviction elsewhere. It may at least be suggested that in the character development and socialization of the Pueblo youth the achievement of a Katcina mask is equivalent in some respects to the acquisition elsewhere of a song, or an amulet, or a medicine bag, or some other fetishistic object by means of the vision quest. Among the Iroquois, where evidence of a previously existing guardian-spirit quest is available in the Jesuit records, there was a very highly elaborated system of personality transference through names, an elaborate and curious belief in dreams, and a reliance on confession as a means of giving the individual confidence for the future. The naming practices of the Iroquois have already been mentioned (see above, pp. 60 and 64). The Iroquois beliefs concerning dreams were equiva- lent to those concerning visions elsewhere, except that no guardian-spirit idea crept in. A person simply dreamed that the supernaturals in general had decreed that he should perform a certain act or live in a certain way. But he did not tell his dream. Instead, he went about asking people to guess it, and when the guesses were satisfactory he confessed and acted in accordance with the dream instructions. On occasion these dreams were used as an excuse for license, but they were also a means of placing supernatural authority behind publicly approved modes of behavior. Morgan relates the story of a sachem whose popularity was waning and who was in danger of being removed from office. This sachem dreamed that he should resign and the public guessed his dream; so he retired with prestige untarnished.' How much the pressure of public opinion expressed in guessing dreams influenced the dream itself we do not know. It probably had some influence. The most interesting phase of Iroquois personality development, however, was the confession practice. At regular intervals, about six times a year, every indi- vidual, child and adult both, had to take the tribal string of white wampum in hand and publicly confess all sins committed. The wampum kept track of such things. It did not shrive the soul, but it freed it of a sense of guilt, and, as is true of con- fession everywhere, it contributed to the general health and spiritual well being.' Summary In this section the evidence cited indicates that the vision quest and the acquisi- tion of a guardian spirit are of pedagogical significance not as types of religious 6 Ibid., pp. 848-853. " Morgan, 1904, p. 205. 56 Ibid., pp. 180-189. 104 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. education, but as a general stimulus to the development of the culturally ideal char- acter and personality. The vision is not necessarily an elaborate psychic experience achievable only by the emotionally unstable or religiously inclined, but is rather a conviction of self-sufficiency won through endurance of suffering and long self- contemplation. Associated with it is a conviction that this self-sufficiency may be retained by the simple observance of some ritualistic practice. The cultural pattern of the vision and the guardian spirit is not necessarily achieved during the quest, but may be a later rationalization of experiences during the quest which were prob- ably quite simple. In support of this contention, the citations given indicate that a youth is never called upon to relate his vision experience immediately, but holds it secret. Such vision accounts as are recorded come from older people who have probably spent a lifetime piecing together their stories. Finally, when we accept an "inner conviction" of individual self-sufficiency and security as the objective of the vision quest, the probable equivalence of practices in areas, such as parts of the Arctic and the Southwest, where the typical vision- quest complex is not found, is demonstrated. Pettitt: Primitive Education in North America 105 IX. THE TRAINING OF EXTRAMUNDANE INTERCESSORS Tim NATURE OF EXTRMUNDANE INTECESSORS ORDINARILY a serious discussion should not begin with an apologetic statement concerning its possible inadequacy. But here an apology must be offered for crowd- ing an adequate picture of the primitive training of extramundane intercessors into one section. The omission of the subject from a work dealing with primitive educa- tion in North America would necessitate a longer and less excusable apology in the preface. A description of modern American education which failed to mention professional training for medicine, the ministry, law, and science would be an analogous omission. The primitive practitioner here designated as an extramun- dane intercessor served his fellowmen in all these fields and more; and his services were just as indispensable and his technical proficiency as important to aboriginal society as those of the modern professional man are to ours. The purpose of this section is to bring out some less obvious aspects of primitive professional training. The other aspects, and general descriptions as well, can be obtained from such books as those of Corlett and Maddox, or from ethnological studies like those of Opler, Park, Speck, Wyman, and others.1 The term "extramundane intercessors" is a coined phrase to include all the multi- plex dignitaries found among primitive peoples of North America and variously described as shamans, medicine men, conjurors, prophets, seers, and priests. All had at least one function in common. They were the intercessors for their less powerful fellow tribesmen in all circumstances of doubt or difficulty believed to be under the control of supernatural authority-and for aboriginal peoples such circumstances were apparently infinite in number. Rasmussen reports a legend among the Iglulik Eskimo that once all men were their own physicians, but there came a time when trouble grew so great that only one man was able to cope with it. He was the first shaman, and he proved the necessity of having men specially adept in dealing with the spirit world.! The tradition of a mythological Golden Age when troubles were less common is encountered frequently in primitive folklore. This fabulous past is always dated a long time ago, as it would have to be to account for the congeries of shamans and priests, accumulated along the way, to deal with so many troubles in such specialized ways. It would be impractical to discuss every variety of extramundane intercessor found in pre-Columbian America, hence attention will be given only to mutations significant for pedagogical problems. Nevertheless, the nature of the problem can- not be appreciated without surveying, at least cursorily, the entire panorama. Ethnologists usually classify extramundane intercessors in two major categories: the shaman or medicine man, and the priest. These categories are more or less arbitrary, for shamans with priestly functions and priests with obvious shamanistic affinities are more common than the completely specialized examples of either cate- gory. Peoples in the northern parts of North America, who lived a migratory, hunting life, tended to have extramundane intercessors predominantly shamanistic; and peoples farther south, who were more sedentary and agricultural, tended to 1 See the bibliography. For an interesting biography of a Plains medicine man, see Neihardt, 1932. For discussions of primitive attitudes toward the supernatural, see Radin, 1937; Lowie, 1924b; J. S. Lincoln,1935. 2 Rasmussen, 1929a, p. 110. 106 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. develop the priestly type. The longer we study these differences, great as they often are, the more we realize that the shaman and the priest are brothers under an essen- tially thin skin. Both feel that through specific regimens the course of natural events can be altered, and that this alteration is directly or indirectly connected with some vague or specific extraterrestrial power or authority. The shaman may be said to differ organically from the priest in that his power of intercession depends more on individual attainment, and his services are most often sought for the personal or familial benefit of individual clients; whereas the priest tends to be merely the guardian of ritualistic k-nowledge whereby a social group may benefit itself through community of thought and action. The classical tradition for the aspirant to the profession of shaman was some outward sign that he or she was especially preferred by spiritual beings, some proof that through deliberate vision quest or involuntary experience approval had been obtained from the powers of the invisible world. These ouitward signs were, perhaps, only a far-away look in the eyes and an unnatural desire for solitude, or a fainting spell; such proofs, were, perhaps, a successful prediction of some coming event or a miraculous escape from what seemed to be certain death. The classical tradition for the candidate for the office of priest, on the other hand, was a retentive memory and a demonstrated interest in tribal legends, rituals, and ceremonies. It might be said that primitive man professed to allow the spirits to choose those who would be received as ambassadors, the shamans; but selected his own secretaries of state, the priests. But this differentiation is only a nominal one, for in primitive society no man could assume any task successfully without at least the tacit approval of the spirit world. However, this basis of differentiation is perhaps more practical than any derived from function. The shaman frequently functions as a priest, and the priest may carry on functions handled elsewhere by the shamans. Even in areas where priests are recognized but must be drafted from those with shamanistic qualifications, as among the Pawnee and neighboring tribes of the southern Plains, the two traditions of selection are joined but not fused. Only among the pueblo dwellers does the classical tradition of qualification for the medicine man seem to be completely lost. Here, in contrast to other areas where the priest even though recognized as a different type of professional still shows some affinities to the shaman, it would be more accurate to say that the medicine men are merely lesser priests. The complexity of the picture is not confined to this differentiation between the priest or shaman-priest and the true shaman on the basis of professional qualifica- tion. There is an even greater differentiation between individual shamans on the basis of techniques and function. Some shamans were literally medicine men; others were more properly classifiable as miracle workers and magicians. Many specialized in one field or another; some combined a number of different functions. Medicine men might be pure theurgists or might combine a certain amount of practical medi- cine in the form of herbal remedies, manipulation, cupping, blistering, bleeding, and even major surgery. The miracle workers and magicians, like medicine men, were mostly public servants but occasionally they practiced the black art, hiring- themselves out as sorcerers. Both medicine men proper and miracle workers oper- ated either through spirits which temporarily possessed them, or through ancillary spirits. Some medicine men specialized, for example, in diagnosis, or in some par- ticular type of disease; others were general practitioners. The miracle workers and magicians also specialized, though these specialties were sometimes included in the repertoire of medicine men. Among these specialties were: rain making, bringing of good weather, increasing the supply of game animals, detection of sorcerers, Pettitt: Primitive Education in North America 107 discovery of thieves, finding names for children, the manufacture of amulets to protect the general welfare or bring special good fortune, the devising of charms and formulae to bring anything desirable-good food, a mate, good health, success in hunting, or ability to prophesy. Any attempt to classify these various professionals in one general category or in many, or to speculate on their historical development, results in some such con- clusion as that reached by Boas with respect to the unaccountable similarities and differences of the mythologies of various North American Indians. He said: "I do believe in the existence of analogous psychical processes among all races wherever analogous social conditions prevail; but I do not believe that ethnic phenomena are simply expressions of these psychical laws. On the contrary, it seems to my mind that the actual processes are immensely diversified, and that similar types of ethnic thought may develop in quite different ways."8 The empirical relationship which seems to prevail between migratory hunting peoples and shamanism, on the one hand, and sedentary agricultural peoples and the priesthood, on the other, also brings to mind Kroeber's statement: "On the one hand culture can be understood primarily only in terms of cultural factors, but ... on the other hand no culture is wholly intelligible without reference to the noncultural or so-called environmental factors with which it is in relation and which condition it."' TRAINING FOR THE PRIESTHOOD The training of priests is best discussed first, not because they are demonstrably most important, but because they present no especially abstruse pedagogical prob- lems, hence can be disposed of most easily. The priest and the shaman both acquired knowledge which the average primitive layman did not possess; but the shaman surrounded this acquisition of knowledge with an elaborately dramatic byplay, whereas the knowledge accumulated by the priest could be and usually was acquired in more conventional ways. This holds in general even for such portions of a sha- man's knowledge as might be utilized by him in functioning as a priest. - Wherever the shaman participated in public ceremonies for the general good of the community, which he did almost universally if there was no recognized priest- hood, he became in effect an authority on sacerdotal knowledge and thereby a priest. He was chosen for this duty because he was a shaman, but the duties required knowledge other than that associated with the private practice of either medicine or magic. And this knowledge of song and dance rituals, ceremonial procedures, and the legends accounting for them was acquired without marked pretense, by experience and specific instruction from older men no longer able to participate actively. As we move from the northerly areas where the extramundane intercessor was primarily a spirit-controlling or spirit-controlled shaman, a'nd only incidentally a priest, toward the southern areas where the true priest, without close shamanistic influence, occurs, the first examples of men functioning as priests, with shamanistic qualifications playing a secondary role, occur in those tribes which have developed some form of secret society. Considerable attention has already been given to secret societies (see above, pp. 38-39) with particular reference to the disciplinary effect of initiations on younger children. It was pointed out there that instruction, except concerning the mysteries of the organization and its rituals, did not seem to be a universally impor- tant accompaniment of the initiation of adolescents. However, it is just as clear t-hat 8 Boas, 1909, p. 516. 4Kroeber, 1939, p. 205. 108 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. through continued membership in a secret society, particularly if a member wished to advance to the status of officer or leader, he had to give a considerable amount of time and thought to his education. A secret society occasionally had a formidable amount of ritualistic knowledge, mythology, and general information about satis- factory living. The development of the secret society might be looked upon as the earliest great stimulus to the development of a learned class, just as the develop- ment of shamanism had stimulated learned individuals. The secret society without question provided a means and an incentive for the pooling of knowledge and for the transmitting from generation to generation of a constantly augmented body of fact and fiction. It is not surprising that the highest development of pictographic bark scrolls, used as mnemonic devices, occurred in the Grand Medicine Lodge area around the Great Lakes, and that the most elaborate examples were concerned with the teaching of this society.' Webster has well said of secret societies: They arouse the universal sentiments of curiosity, fear, and awe; they surround themselves with that veil of mystery so attractive to primitive minds the world over; and they appeal with ever-growing power to the social and convivial aspects of human nature, to feelings of prestige and exclusiveness, and to the consciousness of the very material privilege connected with member- ship.... By the side of the family and the tribe they provide another organization which possesses still greater power and cohesion. In their developed form they constitute the most interesting and characteristic of primitive institutions., Wherever the dual character of shaman-priest occurs, there seems to be a society of some kind in the background which prescribes the knowledge with which the priest-Hyde deals even while shaman-Dr. Jekyll is still meeting individual medical and other problems with the private talent and intuition ostensibly conferred upon him by some invisible wraith. Such societies, apart from the purely disciplinary functions which they served, through inciting fear in young children during initia- tion ceremonies and occasionally at other-times, were also an important educational influence among all people of the tribe and especially among the adults. They almost always prescribed a definite code of behavior for their members which set an ethical and moral standard for the tribe. Usually this standard was high and ideal, although in some areas outside of North America, notably in Africa and Oceania, the stand- ard, from an Occidental point of view, was actually lower, in fact, degraded. All members participated, to some extent, in the knowledge of the society, and the desire for the status and prestige accompanying membership operated as a strong incen- tive for observing codes established by the societies. Those who had been members for some time took pride in the degree to which they conformed, showing that senti- ment, in part, by the assiduity with which they tutored neophytes, and in part by their own behavior. The constant reiteration of codes, ritual, and legends during initiations and intervening periods of instruction, served to extend and particu- larize the body of knowledge held by the society. During the course of this repetition certain members proved more adept-they had more retentive memories and in a primitive way scholarly leanings. They became the leaders of the society, in other words, the high priests of the Sacred Mystery. They might or might not be shamans as well, but it certainly appears true that in proportion to numbers, those who had a conviction of shamanistic power achieved this honor more often than ordinary men. The significance of this will be realized in a later discussion of the shaman and intelligence. It is of interest, perhaps, to stress that the society priest of the type just mentioned gained his reputation as a learned man, in large part, through the 5 Hoffman, 1888, pp. 217-225. 6Webster, p. 106. Pettitt: Primitive Education in North America 109 necessity of demonstrating his erudition to others, in teaching and in giving public or semipublic performances. Those who might question the identification of a secret society leader as a priest need only give thought to the sacerdotal character of society backgrounds, and especially to the fact that society ceremonies, aside from intrinsic purposes, were accepted as beneficial to the public health or public welfare. Through such cere- monies the group-owned spiritual power of the society was subtly diffused through the community. Blish's study of the ethical conceptions of the Oglala Dakota is more or less con- firmatory of the above statements. Her search for such conceptions resulted in an analysis of the secret societies of the tribe, and of the prestige classes associated with such ceremonies as the Sun Dance and the Hunka. She says: Since it is through religious revelation that the Indians receive so much of the law of their living, and since it is religious sanction that gives great power to certain individuals and groups of officers, one is less surprised than he otherwise would be at the general submission to law, the general orderliness and control of the tribal life, and the submission to disciplinary measures when such measures become necessary.7 In the Hunka ceremony of the Dakota, which had to be performed, of course, under the direction of those who knew the ritual, fidelity was the keynote, and songs were sung to the meadow lark, symbol of this virtue. The central characters were two individuals who wished to establish a Hunka relationship which would be stronger than friendship, brotherhood, or family. Ostensibly the ceremony was for them, but in reality it influenced the moral tone of the entire tribe, and sometimes strengthened peaceful relations between rival tribes. Those who had gone through the Hunka ceremony were not organized into a society but they recognized a com- mon bond. Those who directed Hunka ceremonies were essentially priests, avoca- tionally, if not professionally. They acquired their knowledge through repeated participation in the ceremonies and by individual, informal tutoring from the older and passing generation. The priestly nature of these ceremonial leaders is even more clearly shown in the Hako Society of the Pawnee, from which the Dakota Hunka ceremonies seem to have derived much inspiration. Webster, in his discussion of primitive secret soci- eties, says: "Among tribes of Caddoan stock, various elaborate ceremonial rituals have been analyzed and described. Those of the Skidi Pawnee represent perhaps the highest development to be found in any Indian tribe."8 Nichols, in discussing moral education among North American Indians, chooses the Hako as the best example of the relation of religious ceremonies to education. He points out that it was an inter- tribal religious ceremony revealing the work of the hereditary priesthood which wielded so much power among the Pawnee, and adds: "In this way, the young Indian learned the attitudes of his people toward Tirawa, their hope for the con- tinuation of their race . . . the responsibility that devolved upon him to contribute toward the realization of these tribal longings."' Nichols believes that the under- lying purpose of the Hako and the stimulus for its development was education: ... ideas and virtues were not presented in abstract discourses or as specific rules of conduct. In an elaborate scheme of poetic symbolism, the various conceptions were portrayed through objects, colors, dances, rites, and songs, each one of which teemed with meanings for the people who wit- nessed the ceremony. Thus by the use of symbols and significant rites and songs, the Hako taught principles and attitudes rather than a detailed code of conventional morality.10 7Blish, p. 111. 8 Webster, p. 217. 9 Nichols, p. 88. 10 Ibid., p. 93. 110 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. The leader of the Hako, the Kuirahus, was obliged by tradition to pass on his knowl- edge to an assistant and an apprentice assistant and to charge for the teaching. This, in essence, was the universal method of imparting sacerdotal knowledge and of training the priest. T shaman might also pass on knowledge of techniques in this way, but his knowledgeNas not undergoing a constant process of development through elementary teaching of principles of living to youths who had no particular professional aspirations, as was true with the priest. Despite Webster's opinion it is my conclusion that the various Grand Medicine Lodge ceremonies of tribes farther north are worthy rivals. As a typical example, we may take Densmore's description of the Grand Medicine Society among the Ojibwa.' The tribe had medicine men and magicians whose knowledge and power were derived from sources other than the medicine society. But these professionals might also belong to the medicine society, thus adding an additional body of knowl- edge and a supplementary source of power to their armamentarium. Mere member- ship, however, open to the tribe in general, carried only protection for the member himself. Those who sought to use medicine-society knowledge and power in a profes- sional way had to progress through a long series of eight initiations inducting them to progressively higher ranks and deeper mysteries. They were intensively taught by the elders of the society. Few had the ability or perseverance to complete the series, but those who did were usually the leaders of the society, and functioned as priests. Densmore says: The principal idea of the Mideiwiwt (Medicine Society) is that life is prolonged by right living, and by the use of herbs which were intended for this purpose by the Mide MJanido (Culture hero or god).... The ethics of the Midewiwin are simple but sound. They teach that rectitude of conduct produces length of life, and that evil inevitably reacts on the offender. Members were taught to be modest, moderate, and quiet. The tradition is that those who joined the society but did not live up to its teachings were decisively expelled by way of some Ojibwa version of the "hemlock cup." The teachings of the Midewi- win were so extensive that a member of high rank had to keep track of them by elaborately drawn and colored birchbark scrolls, which Densmore likens to the Trestle Boards of the Masonic Order. The ceremonies conducted by the leaders were believed to be of importance in maintaining public health and welfare. These leaders also functioned as priests at funeral ceremonies. That the process of becoming a leader in the organization was intellectually difficult is attested by Skinner, who himself went through part of the training among the Menomini. He says that committing to memory the involved and often meaningless strings of syllables used as songs is a most difficult task.' As a further comment on what has already been said about the role of the mother's brother as a teacher, Skinner's Indian tutor would not consent to instruct him in the mysteries of the medicine lodge until Skinner accepted adpption as a sister's son. The estab- lishing of that relationship seemed to relieve the old shaman's mind on the propriety of giving secret instruction to a white man.' Part of the instruction consisted of the origin legend of the Midewiwin. Since it indicates the imaginative and dramatically satisfying nature of many such legends, a synopsis follows: Mai'nibus, the god in whose charge the earth was given, as opposed to the upper and the nether regions, was a close friend of the Menomini and served as their teacher in the proper ways of living; in other words, he was the cult-ure hero. Ma'nabus had a much-loved younger brother, who Densmore, pp. 44-45, 86-88. "Skinner, 1920, p. 21. lIbid., p. 18. Pettitt: Primitive Education in North America 111 was foully murdered by the gods of the underworld because of jealousy over the preferment shown Mii'niabus by the gods of the upper world. Mai'niabus was heartbroken and in the violence of his grief allowed his sobbing to shake the earth to its core and to cause great waves to rise on the waters. The upper gods promptly warned the slinking fiends of the nether regions that unless they made amends to Ma'nabus, he would undoubtedly rend the universe in twain and exact the last ounce of vengeance from those who had wronged him. So a hasty conference was called and a peace offering was prepared with the help of the upper gods. This peace offering was the secret of the Mitiiwin or Grand Medicine Lodge. It was given to Mii'niibus with the understanding that it would be his privilege to pass the secret on to his favorite children, the Menomini, and that it would ever after protect them from harm, providing that they altered not a syllable of the instructions or a gesture of the ritualistic procedure. One instruction, reminiscent of the Arabian Nights, was how to make a drum which, when beaten, would call the good spirits to the aid of the Menomini. Full details were also transmitted on how to hold a medicine dance, how to prepare medieine bags of various descriptions corresponding to the guardian spirit of the individual owner, how and when to wear these bags, how to sit, stand, and act when participating in medicine lodge ceremonies, and so on. Although this gift was primarily a peace offering to Ma'nabus, it was at the same time a solution of a problem which had been vexing the upper gods from the very beginning of man's sojourn on earth; namely, how to protect him from his own weaknesses and give him a fair chance of survival. It is freely admitted by the Menomini that Ma'nabus could have imparted this mystery to them by just putting it in their minds in a dream, but he chose to come to them personally with the message because, he explained, it would impress them more. And that is why, to this very day, it is necessary to teach these secrets anew to each genera- tion, and why the elders of the Mitaiwin must be letter-perfect teachers."4 To become an authority in the medicine lodge of the Menomini it is necessary to take four degrees. The elders or priests of the lodge seem to take an important part in deciding who is to take the full course and rise to affluence in the order. Theo- retically, a member of the lodge in good standing should be protected from serious illness or misfortune. Practically, this does not always happen and the medicine- lodge priests are called in to discover the difficulty. Usually the trouble is diagnosed as lack of attention to the teachings of the medicine lodge. Often, however, the trouble is deeper, and the priests insist on a second initiation, or even a third, or a fourth, for the patient. These hard-to-save individuals become, as a result, potential candidates for leadership in the society. Many tribes in the Great Lakes area had medicine societies of similar character, varying markedly in one aspect or another but retaining abundant evidences of genetic relationship. Another good description of medicine-lodge teachings is pro- vided by the autobiography of Crashing Thunder, the Winnebago.'5 His initiation required about five nights of ceremonies and exhortations from the elders of the society. The instruction which he received included a philosophy of life told in the form of a parable. Every sorrow in life, such as the loss of a child, is a ravine to be crossed, at which happiness and life itself can end unless there is determination to scale its steep sides and go on. He who looks closely will find that other members of the medicine lodge have come to that ravine before him and have crossed it. If the initiate will remember this and place his feet in the footprints they have left, he will find comfort. Sinilarly, the death of a relative surrounds a man's spirit with an almost impenetrable thicket, and the death of his wife creates a raging forest fire around him. These, too, can be overcome, for the footprints of many medicine dancers lead on from the other side. But the greatest trial of all will come with advancing age when, perhaps, all whom one loves have passed away. At such a time the teachings of the medicine lodge will be one's only solace. If these teachings are remembered, one's declining years will be a series of gentle hills which he will scale in company with his friends of the medicine lodge, and there will always be food. These friends will pass away too, and one is finally the oldest man in the medicine lodge, leading the procession of life. Then there will come a last hill. It will be necessary to rest often; but at the top there will be a ladder to the upper world. A man will be asked how he has behaved during his life, and the answer to make is "I don't know," because the true answer is already known. Then 14 Ibid., pp. 24-83. 15 Radin, 1926, pp. 102 ff. 112 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. the wayfarer will be admitted to a special heaven for medicine dancers, just below the dwelling of Earthmaker himself, and will have the privilege of coming back to earth when he will, in a reinearnated form. Accompanying this course in philosophy were many legends, including that of the origin of the earth, and instruction in the mysteries of the medicine society, which, Crashing Thunder frankly said, were a disappointment to him. He was very cynical about the society until his grandfather taught him many songs and he began to have pride in the prestige that membership brought. Then he began to consider it sacred and boasted of membership to women whom he wished to impress. Elsewhere Radin alludes to the progressive degrees through which a member had to pass in order to be a leader in the Winnebago Medicine Society. Simple membership, he explains, may be obtained by offering to pay for admission, or through proposal by relatives in place of a recently deceased member. Then he adds: The minimum knowledge would amount to an acquaintance with the bare externals of the cere- many, its general significance, and such knowledge of the legendary origin of the lodge as a single recital could give. The new member is not initiated into the symbolism of the ritualistic myths, and consequently a large portion of the same must be unintelligible to him. What he obtains is practically only the right to hold the otter-skin bag and to use it in a certain way. He may not take part in any of the forms of dancing or singing, nor may he even shoot (power) at will. He very rarely remains in this condition long, but takes the opportunity to purchase additional knowledge and privileges.18 Eventually, if he has the ability and is personally acceptable, we may presume, a member may aspire to leadership in the society and become, in effect, one of its high priests, revered by outsiders as well as members. The examples cited represent special types of secret societies, perhaps more elaborate than most in their educational programs. However, what has been indi- cated for the training of the priestly leader holds in its major outlines for other centers of secret society development, where the priesthood remains a seasonal and part-time occupation of shamans or power-possessing lay and civil leaders. Among these centers are central California and the Northwest Coast. The former, particu- larly, is noteworthy for the organized way, resembling modern class instruction, in which secret society leaders gave elementary instruction to young initiates. Kroeber says of the Taikomol initiation of the Yuki Indians: The children or youths to be initiated were brought into a dance house in the morning. There they sat with crossed legs, forbidden to move or even stretch themselves until the middle of the day. Often their parents sat behind to prop them up. They put rope, knives, net bags, snares, furs, and other property in a pile to pay the old man who was to teach their children.... He sang a song that referred to the first event in the creation of the world. Then he would tell this episode in prose. Other songs and pieces of narrative followed, interspersed with explanations, applica- tions to life, and a good deal of moralizing. The whole followed the thread of the creation myth. The instructor does not seem to have tried to veil his meaning in cryptic or esoteric utterances; but the numerous repetitions, the constant change from obscure song to story, and from narrative to comment, and the self-interruptions, must have produced a sufficiently disjointed effect to make several listenings necessary before a coherent scheme of the myth could be obtained.17 In addition to this initiation, selected youngsters were put through the Ghost initiation, which tested physical endurance with the same intensity given to intel- lectual development in the Taikomol. Graduates of both initiations were looked upon as sharing some beneficial power possessed by the group, and were frequently called in to sing over the sick. But the shaman, whose power was personal, remained '6Idem, 1915-1916, p. 360. 17 Kroeber, 1925, p. 184. Pettitt: Primitive Education in North America 113 the last resort in all serious cases. The society initiates were more like acolytes than interns. Their prestige accumulated only through successive initiations and the acquisition of increasing esoteric knowledge, or through the acquisition of personal spirit power. In the one, they took on priestly characteristics; in the other, they became true shamans. However, many of the professionals in this area can best be described as shaman-priests. One particular type of shaman among the Yuki, for example, the Obsidian shamans, held an initiation ceremony which had the double purpose of discovering likely candidates for the profession and also of generally benefiting all who participated. For those selected, the ceremony was a kind of professional training for shamanism. For the others, it was just a desirable re- ligious ritual directed by a shaman-priest. As Kroeber says, "Shamans and societies, both being religious, can not be wholly dissociated, and in a simple civilization, such as that of all California is at its best, there are certain to be numerous contacts."' But it seems to me that it was not the shaman who appeared in society connections, but his alter ego, the priest. Professionals more appropriately describable as true priests for whom practice closely approximated a full-time occupation, were largely confined to sedentary, predominantly agricultural tribes. For example, although Morgan9 says there was no recognition of Iroquois priests by the league as a whole, each tribe had officials known as "Keepers of the Faith," who shared with the chiefs all authority for festi- vals and ceremonies, and who actually did all the work connected with these affairs. They were censors of the people and authoritative advisors on behavior. Because they were chosen by the tribal elders and clan matrons Morgan questions whether they should be described as priests. With more opportunity to make comparative studies, he undoubtedly would have recognized that in North America selection of candidates for the priesthood by tribal elders was a characteristic procedure. The priest, among the Iroquois, apparently, was the individual who presided at the periodic public confessions of past sins over the white wampum (see above, p. 103). Morgan suggests that confession might have been introduced by the Jesuits. Since confession occurs widely among primitive peoples, both as an adjunct to the cure of disease and as a means of establishing favorable group relations with the spirit world, it does not seem necessary to postulate such an origin though Jesuit influence may have altered details of Iroquois practice.' Nothing specific is recorded concern- ing the training of the Iroquois priest, but allusions to his function make it clear that his knowledge was obtained through experience and instruction under human rather than supernatural guidance. Among the tribes of the southeastern part of the United States, Swanfon says that what may be fairly called a priesthood obtained practically everywhere, being 18 Ibid., p. 192. Morgan, pp. 164, 177, 180. 2 "The desire to regularize one's self is one of the urges to confession. The development of con- fession as a pattern of control, however, is associated with the concept that conscience is a symp- tom of spiritual displeasure at the violation of tabus, and is an anticipation of spiritual punishment.... Conscience is, in the first place, an inner mirroring of public opinion-an anticipa- tory feeling of what would be the experience if secret sins were made public" (Thomas, 1937, p. 599). Among the Eskimo, as among the Iroquois, public confession was a necessary prologue to the restoration of favorable public relations with the spirit world. Among the Iglulik Eskimo there was less concern with crime, per se, than with failing to reveal the crime after committing it. This applied to murder, particularly, and the firm conviction that one had to confess a murder after committing it acted as an effectual check on homicides, except in cases where the murderer felt the public would tacitly approve his act as the socially desirable removal of a nuisance (Ras- mussen, 1929a, pp. 100 ff.). In north-central Canada, among the Hare Indians, a native taken seriously ill would immediately call the shaman and the public to confess his sins to them (Osgood, 1933, p. 85). 114 University of California Publications in Am. Arch.. and Ethn. recorded for the Creek, Chickasaw, Natchez, Timucua, Powhatan, Chitimacha, Caddo, and others.' Along with the priest, however, Swanton adds: In some parts of the Southeast there was a class of prophets distinct from the priests or doctors, and, had we the data, we should probably find it represented everywhere. These were men born with unusual psychic powers and attaining their standing in the tribe independently of any estab- lished ecclesiastical order. They were to things religious as the "born leader" and "self-made men" were to things eivil.A In other words, the typical shaman plied his profession alongside of the true priest here as elsewhere in North America except for the Pueblo of the Southwest. Among the Virginia Indians, however, there seem to have been professionals again who combined both the function of the priest and the shaman, though they are described as priests: The functions of the priest among the Virginia Indians may be summed up as follows: (1) he presided in spiritual matters; (2) he had a "great share in government" and in "all public and private affairs"; (3) he was supposed to have personal converse with invisible spirits; (4) he attempted to propitiate the elements by dreams and incantations; (5) he foretold events, pre- tending to have the power of second sight; (6) he possessed all existing knowledge of his people, whether religious, physical or moral; (7) he spoke an esoteric language and was the physician of his tribe.9 If Hendren, the author of this report, meant to imply that every shaman-priest exercised all of these functions he was laboring under some confusion. But it seems certain that some individuals in the Southeast did perform the dual functions of a shaman-priest in spite of the dichotomy indicated by Swanton in the references previously given. In a report on the Creek and Chickasaw,' Swanton states that previously existing requirements of a shamanistic type had disappeared from the training of doctors, but in describing the highly academic class instruction he mentions that the students had to fast, those who expected to amount to anything having to obtain supplementary visions. This seems to prove that shamanistic influ- ences still prevailed, even though, in later life, the successful practitioners often were granted the title of "Old Beloved Man" and assumed a most priestly aspect. The training, however, was much more elaborate than is typical for true shamans. Candidates had instruction in groups of as many as four. They frequently wore white mantles and stuffed-owl headdresses to indicate their student status. They were also expected to maintain a solemn countenance and to occupy themselves with repeating songs and formulae in a low voice as they walked about. Actual class instruction was given at intervals of a month in some sequestered spot far from the village. The candidates gathered there, fasted, and drank purifying medicines in preparation for the coming of the teacher they had hired. He visited them once each day, told legends, sang songs, recited formulae, and explained diseases and treat- ments. He required the students to repeat after him until he was sure they had mastered what he had taught. The students studying for a lower degree, that of "Medicine Maker," fasted and studied for four days at a time, once each month, for five or six months. However, all their waking hours, apparently, were spent in mumbling over what they were learning. Those who wanted to advance to the highest rank, moreover, had to continue instruction, and to fast for periods of as long as eight or twelve days. Those few who survived this course had the privilege of painting a black circle around each eye to indicate their special status. Throughout the Southeast, also, there was a special type of priest entrusted with S Swanton, 1924c, p. 710. 22 Ibid., p. 711. Im Hendren, p. 42. 24Swanton, 1924b, pp. 614-631. Pettitt: Primitive Education in North America 115 the care of the bone houses or temples in which the Indians preserved the less perishable parts of their ancestors' mortal remains. There is no specific information on the training of these priests. We may presume that it followed the typical pat- tern with some specialized instruction or an apprenticeship in the unique features of this rather grisly occupation. Those who stripped the flesh from corpses and pre- pared the bones for placement in the bone house seem to have been members of a separate profession, open to women but chiefly followed by men, and carrying with it high respect and certain occult flavors, along with odors, which might warrant classification as sacerdotal.' In the Pueblo areas of the Southwest both the priest and the medicine man were, in effect, officers of societies. Actually, a career could be made of some society rather than of a profession per se, and whether or not a member gained recognition as a professional depended on the judgment of the group concerning his ability, interest, and character. Bunzel says of the Zunli: There are households, kinship groups, elans, tribal and speeial secret societies, and cult groups. A man must belong to several of these groups, and the number to which he may potentially belong is almost unlimited.... At puberty he is initiated into one of the six dance groups that comprise the male tribal society. He may, through sickness, be conscripted into one of the medicine societies; if he takes a scalp he must join the warriors' society; and if connected with a sacerdotal household he may be ealled upon to join one of the priesthoods." Youths who find dancing and singing exhilarating participate in ceremonies many times a year and earna the attention of their elders. "Those who display an aptitude in memorizing long prayers, if of exemplary conduct, may be appointed to impersonate one of the gods.... For a successful career as a Medicine Man, intelligence and ambition seem more important than piety and virtue." However, a man of questionable moral character seldom is elected to office in his society and thereby raised to the highest professional status, even though he may build up a considerable private practice on the strength of long membership and demonstrated cures. Priests are developed with even less personal choice. They inherit office matri- lineally, being elected within the line usually because they are least quarrelsome rather than most intelligent. A priest is so hedged about by tradition that it is the usual practice to elect a man before he is experienced enough to realize fully how great his responsibilities will be.' It is said of some American Indian tribes that every man is to some degree his own shaman. With some justification a similar gen- eralization might be made about the Pueblo peoples by saying that every man is to some degree his own priest. Bunzel states that the Zufni might be called one of the most religious peoples in the world. Professional priests, officers of medicine soci- eties, priests of the Bow Society, and so on, are believed to be under supernatural protection, but an ordinary man achieves the same protected status by perseverance in the tribal Katcina Society and the earning of the right to a mask. He may also rise to leadership of the six kivas of the Kateina Society, if he belongs to the right clan and wins the privilege of studying under the incumbent. Otherwise he may become an assistant chief, or chief of his own kiva. The kiva chief, with the aid of his assistants, sets ceremony dates, decides what dances will be given, calls re- hearsals, teaches songs, superintends the making of masks, plants prayer sticks, and observes the necessary ritual requirements. In other words, he and his assistants are as much priests in function as any professionals in the village.' 25 Idem, 1931, pp. 171, passim. 21 Bunzel, 1929-1930a, p. 476. tmIbid., p. 542. 28 Idem, 1929-1930b, pp. 848-849, 874-875. 116 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. The kiva or estufa, a room without windows, entered through the roof, was to a considerable extent a twenty-four hour sacerdotal school. Bandelier says: These chambers or halls were... . athering places for men exclusively. Each clan had its own estufa, and the young men slept in it under the surveillance of one or more of the aged principals, until they married, and frequently even afterward.... There the young men became acquainted with the affairs of their individual connections, and little by little, also, with the business of the tribe. There, during the long evenings of winter, old men taught them the songs and prayers embodying traditions and myths, first of their own clan, then of the tribe. The estufa was school, clubhouse, nay, armory to a certain extent. It was more. Many of the prominent religious exer- cises took place in it. The estufa on special occasions became transformed into a temple for the clan that had reared it.... Certain societies know hardly any other but the folk tales relating to their own particular origin. To obtain correct tradition it is necessary to gain the confidence of men high in degree.-" In other words, Pueblo training from earliest childhood, even aside from the great festival dances and the influence of the masked Katcinas, was preparatory for the priesthood, and the priest might be characterized as the educational model. At Isleta, Parsons clearly shows, each ceremonial group was characterized by a graded series of officials, each studying to step into the shoes of the man above him. She says: Succession to office in the ceremonial group appears to be based mainly upon the principle of apprenticeship. The successor to office is the trained understudy. He is the Auki'i or, as we shall call him, the chief assistant. The next or second assistant is called T6aptodetopi'i (following him).... Among the other assistants the one most reeently taken in, "the last helper," sometimes has particular functions assigned to him." On the fringes of the Southwest area, there is a curious mixture of medical-priests, basing their right to practice upon extensive knowledge acquired through long study, and other shamanistic individuals, who step into the spotlight on a moment's inspiration, but so devoid of detailed knowledge that they must hire their more scholarly fellows to perform necessary rituals. Matthews, in speaking of Navaho theurgic and sacred ceremonies, seems to use shaman, priest, and medicine man synonymously. This confusion is understandable. He says: A great number of ceremonies are practiced by the Navahos. The more important last for nine nights and portions of ten days; but there are minor ceremonies which may occupy but a single day, or night, or a few hours. As far as has been learned, the great ceremonies are conducted primarily for the curing of disease; although in the accompanying prayers the gods are invoked for the people. The great ceremonies have, too, their social aspect. They are occasions when people gather, not only to witness the dances and dramas, but to gamble, practice games, race horses, feast, and otherwise have a merry time." The minor ceremonies of the Navaho are sometimes for the cure of disease, some- times to assure the success of planting, harvesting, building of houses, war, nubility, marriage, travel, or to bring good weather. In general, the chanters or leaders who performed the ceremony or took the principal parts in it functioned in a way more reminiscent of the priesthood than of shamanism. The process of learning a chant, its setting of ritual, and the accompanying legends, was also strongly intellectual- istic rather than psychical, in the majority of instances. As Father Haile describes it in his discussion of the Enemy Way Chant: Knowledge of legends and rituals does not seem to be restricted by clan rule, nor is it neces- sarily heritable. The singer whose clan, according to custom, differs from that of his own children, may preferably turn to his sister's son, or some other related clansman, to impart his knowledge. Yet any other person is at liberty to become his apprentice, if he be willing to offer "0 Bandelier, p. 19. "I Parsons, 1929-1930, p. 254. " Matthews, p. 3. Pettitt: Primitive Education in North America 117 him competent remuneration. In this event, custom does not require the singer to impart all his knowledge, but only to meet the demands made by the apprentice. Thus, if an apprentice ask for instruction in the ritual, his instructor need not add instructions in the basic legend, nor prompt his pupil, if he finds him less alert in seeking explanatory information.... In consequence we find many practitioners whose knowledge of a ceremonial may be purely mechanical, because it is limited to a reproduction of songs, prayers and ordinary ceremonies required by a given ritual.... Poverty may dictate such a course to a large number of singers, especially to singers of the more elaborate ceremonials, for which the apprenticeship must naturally extend over a number of seasons." This Efllusion to instruction over a number of seasons seems to be a conservative estimate. Father Haile's collection of songs for the Enemy Way Chant, which had to be learned word for word, fills about sixty-four pages of text, and the legend which goes with it fills eighty-five pages. From three to five days of almost continu- ous chanting and ritualistic performance from memory were required to give the Enemy Way. The Night Chant, another of the principal ceremonies, required about nine or ten days and nights to perform. A mere synopsis of the elaborate ritual, with sweat baths, sacrifices, sand paintings, masked dances, recitation of legends, chants, formal banquets, clowning, and in spare moments, advice to the patient who is under treatment, requires one hundred fifty-four pages of text; the myths and legends fill another sixty; and the songs and prayers forty.' It is obvious that no momentary inspiration or psychic seizure would equip a Navaho shaman-priest for practice of his profession. Neither could he readily pick up the required knowledge as a spectator. He had to learn the procedure by intensive study. Shamanistic concepts were not entirely lacking, however. Father Haile points out that after acquiring knowledge of a chant piecemeal an apprentice had to undergo the entire treatment himself. If may be that a desire to give the student the "feel" of the chant as a unified whole was operative, but it seems to be obvious that another purpose was to instil in him the vague "power"y or "spirit" which the ceremony ostensibly carried. This, of course, is strongly reminiscent of shamanistic patterns, and especially of shamanistic initiations. An even stronger indication that, for some chants at least, psychic aptitude was a primary qualification, is pro- vided by Wyman in his analysis of Navaho diagnosticians, and his description of two minor ceremonies, "Motion-in-Hand" and "Star-Gazing." Concerning the first of these, Wyman says, it cannot be inherited and cannot be learned. It comes to one suddenly, like a gift, and is usually acquired at a chant where there is some doubt about the diagnosis. Anyone present who is sitting and watching the service may suddenly begin to shake. Then he goes to the patient and tries to make a diagnosis. If he is successful, he then knows that he has motion-in-the-hand and can practiee thereafter. Following this, he may go to a medicine man who knows the motion-in-the- hand chant, but in the winter only; and for a fee he learns from him the prayers and songs.... Before the prayers or songs are learned the novice may practice by having someone else pray and sing for him. There is, then, no period of apprenticeship for motion-in-the-hand.' Concerning the other method of diagnosing, however, Wyman adds: Star-gazing differs in some important respects.... It can and must be learned, and anyone who wishes may learn it from a practitioner. It was said that an intelligent man can learn it in a day, although most beginners take longer. The complete ritual of star-gazing is somewhat more com- plicated than that of motion-in-the-hand, even involving the making of a sand painting, although a briefer ritual, without the sand painting, is often used." The above discussion, with the examples given from various parts of North America, is hardly more than a sketchy introduction to the theme. However, enough " Haile, p. 12. 3 Wyman, p. 243. 0 Matthews, 1902. 86 Ibid., p. 244. 118 University of Ca, jornia Pub tications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. has been said to indicate that preparation for the priest's profession, even by those qualified to practice as true shamans, was more comparable to modern education, perhaps, than most phases of primitive training. It was largely a process of memo- rizing a recognized body of knowledge which was subject to verification by fellow practitioners, at least, and to a certain extent by all of the elders of the social group. A true shaman was an individualist who, within rather wide limits, could use his own ingenuity. He was judged by results achieved rather than by methods. The priest, however, was judged by how faithfully he reproduced the traditional. If he performed faithfully he could, again within limits, be forgiven the failure to achieve results. In the primitive priest we see the first consistent approach to a recognition of a group-owned body of knowledge, and to its preservation and transmission primarily for the good of society as an abstract entity rather than for the good of the particular individuals making up a society. The immediate welfare of the people was probably preserved as well by one process as by the other. But the priest provided a focus for knowledge, stressed group psychology over individual psychology, and provided a stimulus for intellectual achievement to be won by dogged perseverance without the necessity of searching for or elabo- rating upon a miracle. With the shaman it was another story. TiE TRAINING OF THE SHAMAN In her preface to the symposium, American Indian Life, Elsie Clews Parsons says: Try as we may, and it must be confessed that many of us do not try very hard, few, if any of us, succeed, in describing another culture, in ridding ourselves of our own cultural bias or habits of mind. ... For one thing we fail to see the foreign culture as a whole, noting only the aspects which happen to interest us. Commonly, the interesting aspects are those which differ markedly from our own culture or those in whieh we see relations to the other foreign cultures we have studied. Hence our classified data give the impression that the native life is one unbroken round, let us say, of curing or weather-control ceremonials, of prophylaxis against bad luck, of hunting, or of war. The commonplaees of behavior are overlooked, the amount of "common sense" is under- rated, and the proportion of knowledge to credulity is greatly underestimated. In other words, the impression we give of the daily life of the people may be quite misleading, somewhat as if we described our own society in terms of Christmas and the Fourth of July, of beliefs about the new moon or ground hogs in February, of city streets in blizzards and after, of strikes and battleships."* To no other aspect of primitive life is this statement more applicable than to the medicine man or magician, including both the nature of his activity, and the char- acter of his training. To understand the medicine man we must not only know the primitive pattern of thought into which he fits, but must also strive to keep in mind the universals of human nature on which this pattern is built. The pedagogical problem presented by the medicine man is obscured and confused by the scarcity of field reports which fulfil these requirements. Most observers have simply described the appearance of the medicine man and outlined his activities. Where they spe- cifically attempt an explanation of the phenomenon, the usual procedure is to take as a starting point the traditional, culturally patterned explanations of where and how the medicine man or magician gets his power, as provided by primitive folk- lore or by the practitioners themselves, and to hold this information up to the light of religious or scientific skepticism. The logical result is a decision that the shaman is basically a faker, on the one hand, or fundamentally a psychoneurotic, on the other. We may discard the first of these conclusions without further attention. Few trained anthropologists offer any support for that argument. The great majority agrees that the shaman is basically sincere, and that, even where he practices without absolute M Parsons, 1922, preface. Pettitt: Primitive Education in North America 119 conviction of his own power, he believes in the existence of such power, and prac- tices only so long as some shreds of assurance remain in his own mind and the minds of his clientele that within limits he is immediately effective, and that in the future he may be more so. Where anthropologists disagree, as it may be argued Paul Radin does in his Primitive Religion, it is my impression that the authors are dealing with a phylogenetic philosophy of shamanism which they would wish to qualify consid- erably before offering it as an ontogenetic explanation of any particular shaman. The question of whether the shaman is a psychoneurotic cannot be answered so easily. The majority of anthropologists either tacitly or expressly accept the gen- eralization that shamans as a class are recruited from the psychically unstable individuals of the primitive community, that the primary qualification is an epi- leptoid or psychopathic personality, and that professional status as a shaman is sought as an "escape," or accepted because it is the career which tradition and the accompanying public pressure mark out for such individuals. It is hardly necessary to point out that the correctness or incorrectness of this generalization is funda- mental to an elucidation of the education or training of the shaman. If the shaman is, so to speak, foreordained, and if his fitness for the profession is actually deter- mined by abnormalities or subnormalities, accompanied at some point in life by a psychically experienced call which neither the supernatural world nor the tangible world will allow him to ignore; then there is relatively little profit in examining the process through which the shaman acquires his supporting bedside manner and the dramatic trappings of his profession. These, where they can be disengaged from the essential mystery of revelation, can obviously be traced to observation of other shamans, or to instruction from other shamans, differing little, if at all, from the observation and instruction involved in the development of the priest. However, I believe that there is more to the profession of shaman than is implied by accept- ance of the generalization just mentioned. It is my conclusion that primitive tradition concerning the shaman, and the shaman's own explanation of himself, are not sound foundations on which to build. It seems to me that in North America at least, and perhaps elsewhere, there has been too ready acceptance of primitive rationalizations in order to prove the irrationality of the profession of shaman; and that this can be demonstrated significantly, if not conclusively, by evidence already gathered and published. The truth, as usual, seems much less simple than we at first might believe. The crux of the problem may be described as follows: First, the classical picture of the shaman, derived as is the name itself, from northeast Asia, portrays an indi- vidual with far more outward evidence of psychie peculiarity than is found in the great majority of medicine men or magicians. It may be legitimately questioned whether the classical picture is a true representation of the average shaman, or whether the spectacular nature of the classical picture has not led observers to minimize the differences and magnify the similarities revealed by shamans whom they had the privilege of meeting or hearing about. I mention "hearing about," because almost invariably the strangest, greatest, and most miraculous shamans in any tribe are the dead ones. Second, it is the accepted belief of all peoples in North America among whom the true shaman appears, that candidates for the profession are selected by supernatural beings. In some areas it is believed that individuals cannot even seek to enter the profession and that candidates are drafted involuntarily by the supernaturals. In other areas entrance into the profession may be sought, but some sign of acceptance from the supernatural world must be obtained. Evidence of having been drafted, or of having been accepted, is cited by every shaman; and this evidence usually is of such nature as to lend credence to 120 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. the conclusion that the shaman is or was psychically abnormal, if not inherently psychopathological. This traditional belief has not, however, to my knowledge, been supported by direct evidence from trained observers who have watched the development of a shaman over the course of years. Without such evidence we are not justified in accepting as fact the primitive claim that the most psychically aberrant individuals in the community at any time are the future great shamans, nor the claim that the great shamans of the present were the psychically aberrant individuals of the past. The linkage is only hearsay, and it is in dealing with hearsay that the anthropologist must remember all that he knows about human nature. Typical statements concerning the shaman "call" and the classical tradition of the shaman can be indicated by a few examples. Czaplicka reports for the type locality of the shaman, in Siberia, that there is something peculiar about the eyes of a shaman, and after a little practice he can usually be picked out of a crowd; that the professional shaman verges on insanity, and he sometimes gives evidence that he has been chosen for the profession early in life by having fits, being abnormally moody, or dreaming constantly. For a period he may return to normal life, but later he has fits of ecstasy when excited, and is drawn to and moved by shamanistic seances.'7 According to Hiambly the shaman is commonly called to the profession, congenital peculiarities being undoubtedly conducive to the call. It may not be desired by the individual, but eventually results in a release for underlying neuro- logical troubles. He says: After collation of evidence respecting the novitiate and practice of the Medicine Man, and a consideration of this in unison with facts adduced by modern writers on psycho-therapeuties, I advance the hypothesis that the primitive Medicine Man suffers primarily from a "fear" neurosis."' Radin says that violent seizures are characteristic of shamans in Siberia, northern North America, and to some extent in Malaysia and Melanesia. "In those regions where shamanism proper flourishes, the only requirement for the call is the proper tendency to neurotic ecstasy and trance."" For the Eskimo, Rasmussen says, only those choose the career who have a "call" through seeing spirits while out hunting or when alone.' Birket-Smith says: An Eskimo almost never becomes a Shaman of his own free will; it is sila or the spirits them- selves who, through dreams or some other manner, appoint the chosen one.... Behind the apparent selection of the spirits lies, of course, the fact that the Shaman-to-be must be susceptible to influ- ences by which he may be entranced.... The Shamans are often pronounced neurasthenics or epileptics.'" The Labrador Eskimo recognizes that he has been called to be an Angakok when some mysterious event occurs." Similarly, among the Mackenzie Eskimo, the un- explained loss of a snow knife or a pipe may be a sign that the spirits are calling." A Bering Strait Eskimo considers any remarkable circumstance a possible indica- tion that he has shamanistic power." Among the Tanaino of northwestern Canada: The acquisition of shamanistic power is said to come through dreams. When a man is receiving shamanistic power, other people think he is going crazy, but the man is just dreaming. Awaking, he begins to holler and shout, and then everyone knows that he has become a medicine man. 8OCzaplicka, chap. 7. See also, Casanowicz, p. 426; and Bogoras, p. 415. H8 Hambly, pp. 215-219. " Radin, 1937, pp. 158, 161. 4" Rasmussen, 1908, p. 140. 41 Birket-Smith, p. 171. "2 Hawkes, pp. 128-129. 4" Stefdnsson, 1914, p. 369. " Nelson, p. 428. Pettitt: Primitive Education in North America 121 The idea that a man becomes a shaman against his will is implied by the stories.'5 The neighboring Kutchin also become aware that they have been called through dreams. "It is said that shamanistic powers may be forced upon an individual whether he wishes it or not." In the areas where vision questing is a normal part of the developmental process of the majority of youths, the shaman usually receives his call by visions of greater intensity than those accorded to ordinary people. The implication is that the spirits determine who is to be granted such a vision. In the Plateau region of western Canada and the United States, an individual sometimes does not know whether he has received a call to be a shaman in his vision until a later midwinter festival when, under the group-stimulated ecstasy, he loses consciousness and in his mumbling reveals to the other shamans that the spirit is in him. Curtis describes this practice for the Interior Salish and the Yakima.'7 For the Sanpoil and Nespelem of north- east Washington, Ray says: "Shamanistic power was acquired in exactly the same manner and from the same spirits as any other type of power. Guardian spirits conferred shamanistic talents upon some, other talents upon others." The deter- mination of these talents was a slow process requiring several returns of the spirits involved, during the midwinter festival period."8 Among the Coeur d'Alene: Almost everyone, both male and female, had one or more guardian spirits.... Almost the only difference between them [the shamans] and other men was that they made a profession of curing people.... Many men had quite as much power as most shamans, but did not use it professionally. On the whole, however, shamans were supposed to have more powerful guardians.49 Among a number of tribes the kind of vision which indicates a shamanistic career is specifically designated. The Nez Perce, for example, believed that if the spirits of the Sun, Moon, Fish-hawk, or Pelican vouchsafed a vision, the vision seeker had been designated as a future shaman.' Elsewhere these shamanistic spirits are named as the Sun, the Cloud, the Eagle, and the Fish-hawk.' Concerning the Assiniboine, Lowie reports: It has been pointed out that frequently the religious experiences of shamans and ordinary tribesmen are fundamentally alike, the only difference being in the extent and character of the help secured. This conclusion is eminently applicable to the Assiniboine. Men went out to fast and pray in quest of mysterious power, or received instruction without special supplication, and it depended solely on the nature of the communication whether they became founders of dancing- societies, wakan practitioners, owners of painted lodges, fabricators of war shirts, or prophets. In every case, implicit obedience to the directions received was obligatory. Neglect of such instructions is said to be the reason why so many Indians have died within recent times.a Among the eastern Cree the revelation of shamanistic power came in a dream-vision, similar to those granted older youths, but of a peculiar character and spectacular content.' Ojibwa Indians might become shaman-priests through voluntary associa- tion with the Midewiwin and through the acquisition of knowledge, but they could also become shamans outside of the medicine society if some spirit granted them personal power.' Among the Ojibwa of Parry Island every youth sought a vision but only a few received the special blessing which made them shamans-"as a psychologist might interpret it, only those who possessed the peculiar mentality " Osgood, 1937, pp. 181-182. " Idem, 1936, pp. 156-158. 47Curtis, 1907-1930, 7:10-11, 81. '5 Ray, 1932, p. 200. 0 Teit, 1927-1928b, pp. 192, 195-196. 50'Curtis, 1907-1930, 8:66-67. u Spinden, p. 256. 5' Lowie, 1909b, p. 47. T3 Skinner, 1911, p. 61. " Densmore, pp. 44-45. 122 University of California Pub lications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. necessary to obtain the 'call' and carry out the role in full sincerity." Members of the Midewiwin are not considered quite so genuine as the spirit-chosen medicine man. There were three types of these medicine men: healers, seers, and magicians who caused a tipi or, rather, a cylindrical lodge, to shake and rattle, presumably by supernatural means.' Other Ojibwa bands, however, appear to have rated the shaman-priests of the Midewiwin more highly than the spirit-chosen shamans.' Implications of psychic abnormality are found in many descriptions of shamans in the area north of the Great Lakes. Landes says of the western Ontario Ojibwa: The attitude of the Shaman is extremely exhibitionistic; he wants to show off power, miraculous tricks which have been given to him in a vision. The curer's success is important to him largely because it ministers to his self-respect, not because he has any serious stakes in alleviating the patient's suffering." Of the Tete-de-Boule it is said that men who have gone Witiko, that is, eaten human flesh, and who are thereafter subject to psychic disturbances, usually become shamans, with an emphasis on sorcery.' In the southeastern area of the United States, as already indicated in the section on priests, although formal training and sacerdotal knowledge were essential to high rank in the profession of medicine man or magician, there was also evidence that the more powerful individuals boasted of having been given preference by the supernaturals. Among the Choctaw and Chickasaw, it is said: Before entering upon his high and responsible duties and assuming the authority of a diviner- a graduated Medicine Man, in other words, with a recognized and accepted diploma-he must have enlisted in his service one or more lesser spirits, servants of the Great and Good Spirit, as his allies and mediators, and to secure these important and indispensable auxiliaries, he must subject himself to a severe and lasting ordeal.5' Similar implications are found for other tribes of the area. In the Southwest, as already stated, the medicine man was in reality a priest, but in a Hopi pueblo, at least, "There are today, however, and probably were also in the past, medical specialists not, I think, affiliated with the curing societies."' Whether these independent practitioners followed the typical priestly preparation, or were more shamanistic, Beaglehole does not say. Among the simpler peoples of the fringes of the Pueblo area, the tradition of involuntary selection as a medicine man, and of psychic disturbances as a sign of such selection, again appear. Mention has already been made of the attacks of shaking and sudden acquisition of motion-in-the-hand doctoring, for the Navaho. Among the Pima Indians, the medicine man or magician might be apprised of the acquisition of power by some spirit in a dream or in the abnormal condition following a crisis. But those who inherited power were con- sidered the greatest shamans. Inheritance, of course, implied both selection by a relative or friend, and acceptance by the spirits.' The classical tradition appears in pure form among the Papago. In her autobiography, Chona, a Papago woman, mentions that her husband and his brothers had dreams and knew they had been chosen to be medicine men. Also, she states that one of her sons became a medicine man. He was one who had acted strange as a boy. He ran from the lodge at night and they would find him lying face down in the greasewood. One of her brothers, who later became a medicine man, had suffered from fainting spells as a boy. This was interpreted as a sure sign that the spirits were coming to him.' California, again, is an area where the classical tradition of shamans being chosen without volition is strong. Kroeber says: "Shamanism is fully as important among 55Jenness, 1935, pp. 62, 63-68. Cushman, pp. 38-39. 66 Hoffman, p. 222. E. Beaglehole, p. 21. 57 Landes, 1938, p. 178. 6t Russell, pp. 257-258. 5'Guinard, p. 69. 62 Underhill, pp. 18, 43, 49. Pettitt: Primitive Education in North America 123 the California Indians as elsewhere, but differs in that it is more frequently re- garded as an obsession, something that of its own accord comes upon man, rather than something that it is sought to acquire by actions."' That abnormal individuals did enter the profession at times seems to be indicated by the fact that among the Yurok of northwestern California, the berdaches or transvestites, that is, individ- uals who preferred to live the life and adopt the dress of the opposite sex, were recognized and esteemed as shamans.6" Incidentally, similar observations have been made elsewhere in North America, and in Siberia.85 The clearest expression of the classical tradition concerning shamans in Calif- ornia occurs, probably, among the Shasta Indians of the northern part of the state. Most of the shamans were women, and it was customary for many of them to trace their call to a fit or fainting spell. During this attack the sufferer ostensibly was taught a spirit song by the supernaturals. When she awoke, blood was running from her mouth; she told the name of her guardian spirit; and confirmed her acceptance by dancing for three days. Usually one year or several years were spent in gathering paraphernalia, and so forth, before she began to practice. It was believed that refusal of a call of this type would result in death." Unpublished field notes gathered by Catherine Holt, however, indicate that by no means all Shasta shamans were created in this way. Many were chosen for training by some relative who happened to be a shaman. The neighboring Modoc, according to A. B. Meacham, also followed the classical tradition. Shamans were not believed to enter the profession voluntarily. They were chosen by "the Great Spirit," and the fact that they had been chosen was made public by crazed actions, twitching of the muscles, and bleeding at the mouth." In passing, it should be mentioned that bleeding at the mouth, as reported for the Modoc and Shasta, and bleeding at the nose, were frequent criteria of shamanistic power." More will be said of this later. The Wailaki of ilorthern California also be- "K roeber, 1907c, p. 326. " Idem, 1925, p. 45. Im Among the Klamath Indians of Oregon one third of the transvestites were shamans, but they sometimes became shamans first, which enlarges the range of psychological possibilities (Spier, 1930b, p. 51). Among the Flathead Indians it is said that there were some berdaches and they were usually shamans (Teit, 1927b, p. 384). Among the Paleo-Asiatics of Siberia, the Chukehee, the Koryak, Kamchadal, and Asiatie Eskimo, the transvestites generally were respected because they were different and were believed to have power (Czaplicka, chap. 11). There are other areas, however, where berdaches occur, but no connection with shamanism is specifically noted (Swanton, 1931, p. 111). "K Kroeber, 1925, p. 301. "Spier, 1930, p. 326. " The Tungus of Siberia believed that children who bled at the nose or mouth were destined by the gods to be shamans (Casanowicz, p. 420). For the Koryak it is reported that ability to sweat blood, or at least to have bloody noses, was an accepted accomplishment of candidates for shamanistic power (Czaplicka, chap. 7). Among the Klamath of Oregon the signs of spirit power looked for were loss of consciousness, and profuse hemorrhage at nose and mouth, and a good shaman was supposed to be able to gush blood during a curing performance (Spier, 1930, pp. 93, 109, 111). The Wintun of California believed that a youth who did not bleed at the mouth would never be a shaman (Kroeber, 1932, p. 360); Curtis (1907-1930, 14:95) confirms this for the Wintun, and mentions it for the Yuki (ibid., pp. 46-47). In some tribes, deliberate steps are taken to induce this sign of spirit power by poking feathers or sticks up the nose or down the throat, or by cutting the tongue. The Yuki poked condor feathers down the throats of boys and those that bled easily were recognized as future Obsidian Shamans (Kroeber, 1925, p. 193). Wailaki youths seeking to be shamans had to learn how to suek blood from their gums and spit it out (Curtis, 1907-1930, 14:31). The Kato stuck a buzzard feather down the throats of candidates for shamanism, and if blood came up with it, that was a good sign (ibid., p. 14). Field observers have noted the spitting of blood as a sign of dawning shamanistic power among the Maidu of Central California (R. B. Dixon, p. 267). The Northeast Maidu carry this practice a little farther by stating that a man searching for shamanistic power can attract the spirits by piercing his own ears and letting the blood flow (ibid., p. 278). This same blood complex occurs in secret society initiations, as among the Klallam where youths were persuaded to cut their 124 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. lieved that youths who showed psychopathological tendencies, particularly if they had cataleptic fits, were destined to be shamans.' At the other end of the state, Mohave shamans often gave evidence of psychopathy by confessing unknown crimes and asking to be killed.' On the eastern border of California, and in Nevada, the Paiute believed that youths were selected for the shamanistic profession by the supernaturals through the medium of a constantly repeated dream, and in Owens Valley, at least, it was considered dangerous to ignore the summons.' Many additional citations of the classical tradition concerning qualification for shamanism could be offered. However, no anthropologist questions the existence of the classical tradition; indeed it is often tacitly accepted as fact. The point at issue is whether the classical tradition describes an actual process of selection or repre- sents merely a rationailization. Solution of this problem is basic to an understanding of professional training in primitive society. It would be naive, of course, to attempt to prove that psychically abnormal individuals did not enter the shamanistic pro- fession. The description given for some of the practitioners certainly implies at least a marked eccentricity. The question is whether the majority, or even a large minority, of the shamans in North America were any more eccentric than their lay brothers and sisters. It can easily be seen that the tradition of having been chosen by the supernaturals, or of having been forced into the profession by the super- naturals, would be readily accepted and promoted by the shamans themselves; for what better proof could they offer of their intimacy with the supernaturals, and how better could they build the public confidence upon which their success as faith healers and group hypnotizers directly depended? Even today we find public confi- dence in medical practitioners significantly influenced by faith,,not only in regard to peripheral healing cults, but also in the case of technically trained doctors of medicine. Every doctor knows that, without the confidence of his patient, attempts to bring about a cure are seriously handicapped. Whether that confidence is built upon logical or illogical foundations makes little difference. Many people trust a doctor more who comes from a long line of medical men, not because of any specific proof that his heredity and environment have made him more proficient, but because of a feeling that the family may possess some mysterious skill which other families lack. In examining the evidence bearing upon the qualifications for shamanism, I shall first consider the oft-made claim that pronouncedly psychoneurotic or psycho- pathological individuals, and particularly epileptics, are preferential candidates and played an important role in the profession. Any discussion of epilepsy and the epileptoid syndrome is complicated by the fact that even modern authorities are not unanimous in their conclusions about what should be included. The difficulty derives from the fact that the term epileptoid is not descriptive of a disease entity, but merely of a spectrum of comparable symptoms derived from varied causes, many of which are only vaguely understood. One is forced to the conclusion that the convulsive state and passing changes in consciousness cannot be any primary disease unit in themselves. They are merely the expression of an innate or tongues in order to have blood flowing from their mouths, to impress bystanders (Gunther, 1927, p. 285). The Thompson Indians of western Canada apparently see a eonnection between a bleeding nose and menstrual blood, for they warn young boys that if they go near the hut in which a menstruating girl has been segregated, they will bleed at the nose (Teit, 1900, p. 321). The frequency of the bleeding mouth phenomenon is negatively indicated by the fact that Olson, in describing the Klokwalle Society of the Quinault Indians, felt it necessary to mention that initiates did not bleed at the mouth (Olson, 1936, p. 121). 60 Curtis, 1907-1930, 14:33. 70 Kroeber, 1925, p. 775. 7n Steward, 1933, p. 312; I. T. Kelly, p. 190. Pettitt: Primitive Education in North America 125 induced instability of nerve-centers arising from many causes, operating probably through a common, constant, connecting mechanism.... It is necessary to recognize, on the one hand, the essential unity of all episodes of impaired consciousness often accompanied by convulsions, and on the other, the amazing variety of conditions which may cause such episodes. Such epilep- togenous conditions are often fleeting; physicians must combat with vigor the portentous and often untrue prognosis so frequently saddled on such disorders by the public and many of their profession." The definition of epilepsy is concerned with immediate antecedents of symptoms rather than ultimate causes. "Epilepsy has been already described as an occasional paroxysmal discharge of a nerve-center or group of centers, occurring apart from volition and accompanied by interference with consciousness."' There seems to be agreement only that susceptibility to epileptoid seizures de- pends upon the low resistance of the neural mechanism to upset from any cause. Furthermore, environment and accident within that environment, may be just as important as hereditary predisposition in bringing about overt seizures. Indi- viduals who under any ordinary set of circumstances would be considered normal might under peculiar stress reveal an epileptoid syndrome. Other individuals might be resistant to that same peculiar stress yet collapse under a relatively less crucial stress of another type. For example: "Birth injuries must often be capable of lowering the threshold of neural explosion to a point accessible to stimulation by metabolic products, toxic perhaps, but innocuous in a subject with a higher thresh- old of nerve-cell irritability."' On the basis of the above statements, we may logically conclude that in any community the number of ihdividuals with epileptoid tendencies is probably far larger than the number who suffer epileptoid seizures; and that many of those who exhibit symptoms included in the syndrome are not essentially more defective than their fellows; even though, once having had an attack, their susceptibility to another may be increased. It is common practice to differentiate such normal-but-for-an- extraordinary-accident individuals from those few individuals whose neural mech- anism is so defective that it tends to collapse under the normal routine of living. Cases of this latter type are classified as true, essential, or idiopathic epilepsy, and the predisposition is generally recognized as hereditary in accordance with the principle of Mendelian recessives.'7 Before going further, then, the probability of primitive shamans having been idiopathic epileptics may be considered. Hrdlicka has made a survey of the inci- dence of epilepsy among North American Indians in recent years. To a large extent the insecurities of primitive life have been eliminated by reservation life and governmental patrimony, though this influence on the incidence of epileptoid seiz- ures, particularly as regards nutrition, may have been neutralized by the stress of culture breakdown and the sense of inferiority in the face of a more complex and aggressive white civilization. However, Hrdlicka found that the incidence of epilep- toid symptoms among the 70,000 Indians surveyed was very low, not essentially different from the average for whites.' In a reinterpretation of Hrdlicka's data, apparently on the basis of more complete statistics on the incidence of the syndrome among whites, Davenport states that epilepsy is not so common among American Indians as among American whites, 4.3 per 1,000 as compared with 5.2 per 1,000.7 " Proceedings of Association for Research in Nervous and Mental Diseases, 1931. Paper by Dr. Foster Kennedy, pp. 30, 31. 7 Ibid., p. 39. 74lbid. 76 Ibid., Paper by Charles B. Davenport, p. 118. 7" Hrdlicka, p. 204. 7Proceedings of Association for Research in Nervous and Mental Diseases, 1931. Paper by Charles B. Davenport, p. 122. 126 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. Davenport further implies that the rate for American Indians was never high. He says: "Some Amerindians appear to have a low rate by virtue of the early elimina- tion of those showing symptoms (through fatal termination of the disease, particu- larly among migratory tribes). Otherwise the rate is possibly slightly below that of the United States generally."78 If we are justified in concluding that the incidence of epileptics among American Indians was no greater in ancient times than in more recent times, not all shamans could have been epileptics since the probable incidence of epilepsy was about 4.3 per 1,000. Furthermore, idiopathic epilepsy is associated with feeble-mindedness. "The well-known frequency of occurrence of epilepsy and feeble-mindedness in the same family suggests some sort of correlation in their underlying causative rela- tions."79 Again, "The subject becomes unsocial, quarrelsome, is inclined to lie and employ violence.... The intellectual faculties may remain intact during the de- velopment of the character, until the epileptoid psychosis develops with its well- known intellectual failure."' Detailed confirmation of this is offered by a number of studies of epileptic chil- dren showing that as a group they are significantly retarded mentally, and a greater proportion of them are feeble-minded. The degree of mental retardation seems to be correlated with the earliness of the first attack and the duration of the period during which attacks have occurred.' This correlation of epileptoid attacks with feeble-mindedness and progressive deterioration of the mental faculties offers another approach to the relationship between shamanism and epileptoid seizures. Whenever shamans of reputation are mentioned specifically in the literature on North America, they are spoken of as men in full maturity or past it. More will be said of this question of age, but it is sufficient for the moment to point out that if shamans were epileptoid, they were old enough to show some sign of mental deterioration. The facts, however, seem to indi- cate that far from being of subnormal mentality they were in the great majority of instances obviously more knowing and clever than the average man, and frequently exceeded even the chiefs in reputation for wisdom. Bilby says of the "Angakooet" of the Baffin Land Eskimo, they "hold the first place in public esteem and common council.... The would-be conjurer is put through a fairly long and fairly severe course of training, the whole of which ... simply tends to enhance his intellectual qualities, such as they may be, at the expense of the grosser appetites of the Eskimo lay individual... he has a good memory, an immense amount of shrewdness and cunning, an intimate knowledge of animals, and their habits, of weather conditions and seasons, and, above all, of course, a capacity to judge of his fellow men.... By virtue of his calling and of his continual dealing with animals of all kinds, he knows the positions of joints, muscles, ligaments, veins and arteries, and can find any of them."' Rasmussen, in discussing the Iglulik Eskimo, thinks it worthy of note to mention, along with descriptions illustrative of the difficult training and broad knowledge of the shaman, that sometimes a thoroughly incapable fellow of little intelligence and no hunting skill, always on the verge of starvation, nevertheless gains a con- siderable reputation as a shaman. Rasmussen had one man in mind who was so dumbfounded by the white visitor's wisdom that he suddenly decided he was in the presence of a white shaman of surpassing power, and this conclusion almost caused 78Ibid., p. 130. "Proceedings of Association for Research in Nervous and Mental Diseases, 1923, p. 259. 80 Ibid., 1931, Paper by L. Pierce Clark, p. 69. ft Sullivan and Gahagan, 1935, pp. 369-371. 82Bilby, pp. 136, 196, 202, 226. Pettitt: Primitive Education in North America 127 him to faint with fear.' This is an exception rather than the rule. There are a few other cases of similar implication. Of Cherokee shamans, for example, it is said: It goes without saying that just as anywhere else, and as in any other profession, some of them are more proficient and skillful than others; ... that some there are, finally, whose honesty and integrity cannot be doubted, whereas others are no better than some of the vulgar and mercantile quacks that are not unknown even in our own communities. These authors also state that a high degree of self-discipline, amiability, friendli- ness, and so on, contribute as much to a shaman's reputation among the Cherokee as does intelligence.8' These virtues, also, are in direct contrast to the typical epilep- toid personality. Elsewhere the authors state: The brighter of the medicine men may truly be said to be walking encyclopediae, as far as their knowledge of aboriginal culture is concerned.... Not only do they know all about disease and curing methods, but they are also invariably very competent botanists and naturalists. (Some know as many as 150-200 plants, their peculiarities, habitats, time and period of blossoming, their properties, and the lore pertaining to them) ... They are also the narrators of the myths and stories, one of them as a rule knowing more about them than four or five other members of the tribe put together.Y' Osgood corroborates the variability of shamans among the Tanaino in Alaska. He admits that some shamans remain tyros all their lives and never rise to the heights; but says of shamans in general: The Shaman or Medicine Man is the mediator between the Tanaino commonplace world of physi- cal facts and that other, scarcely less real, the realm of the spirits.... He is doctor, prophet and high priest. Moreover, he is a magician, raconteur extraordinary, and, very often, a person of great wealth, which is to say, a chief.8" To return to the Eskimo, Captain Lyon met an Iglulik Eskimo shaman and wrote in his journal: "This personage was cunning and intelligent, and, whether profes- sionally, or from his skill in the chase, but perhaps from both reasons, was consid- ered by all the tribe as a man of importance."'7 Jenness illustrates the resourcefulness and quick wit of a Copper Eskimo shaman with the following story. Jenness was accused of having caused the death, through sorcery, of a resident of the little village in which he was gathering ethnological data. The situation had ominous potentialities, but a friendly shaman quickly pre- tended to go into a trance, spoke gibberish to Jenness which he told his countrymen was English; Jenness replied in bad French to prevent his expedition members from guessing the secret; and then the shaman assured his fellows that he had found no trace of guilt in the visiting white, after a long and detailed interview in the white man's own tongue. Jenness states emphatically that the most intelligent individual in the Eskimo community appears to be the shaman.8' For the Kutchin of extreme northwestern Canada and eastern Alaska it is said: "The shamans have both great influence and status among the Kutchin. These medi- cine men form the dominating group in the economic and intellectual activities of the native world." Here, as in many other areas, there is a strong tendency for the shaman and the chief to be one and the same individual. There is a saying, "A dis- tant medicine man may be feared, but not a distant chief." Consequently the- chief frequently seeks to extend his authority by becoming a shaman.8' 83 Rasmussen, 1929a, pp. 38, 40. 8 Mooney and Olbrechts, pp. 109, 110-111. 8Ibid., pp. 88-89. 88 Osgood, 1937, p. 177. '"'Lyon, p. 358. "8 Jenness, 1936, pp. 209, 231. 89 Osgood, 1936, pp. 123, 156. Other references to the shaman being the chief are as follows: for Western North American generally, Park, 1938, p. 68; for Cherokee, Mooney and Olbrechts, p. 84. 128 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. Ross, in his account of the Okanogan, north of the Columbia River, says: [The shamans] have a profound knowledge of all simples, Iand if the complaint be manifest... their skill is really astonishing. Of the Chinook of the lower Columbia, he adds: We must allow them to be a serviceable and skillful class of people. Their knowledge of roots and herbs enables them to meet the most difficult cases, and perform cures.'* Even essentially derogatory testimony from missionaries often reveals a recog- nition of special ability in the shaman. The Rev. William Duncan, reporting to the Church Missionary Society concerning the medicine man of the Northwest Coast? says: I believe that any shrewd or eccentric man may, by fasting, successfully prognosticating, or other- wise acting so as to excite the superstitious reverence of the people in his favor, secure a footing in this lucrative profession. The author who quotes Duncan adds on his own account: "The most influential men in a tribe are the medicine-men.... Although a clever medicine-man becomes of great importance in his tribe his post is no sinecure either before or after his initiation."' The Pomo shamans in certain cures had to perform a ritual consisting of 680 movements so complicated that usually an assistant counted sticks to keep track of the procedure.' For the Plains area, Hunter, for a considerable part of his life an adopted mem- ber of the Kansas and Osage tribes, and in general critical of Indian superstitions, states: In general, however, no one undertakes the practice of medicine, unless invited to by those suffering under disease, or by the spontaneous call of the tribe; which is not commonly uttered, except from a conviction arising from results, that the subject is possessed of superior talents.... The Indian physicians are commonly honorable.... Sometimes the character originates from remarkable dreams. In general, however, age, acute observation, good judgment, and experience, constitute the qualifications of their most popular and reputable physicians.98 Chief Buffalo Child Long Liance claims that a Blackfoot shaman in treating a broken leg which had knit in such a way as to leave the patient badly deformed, re-broke the leg in two places and straightened it.9' Whether or not this is true, McClintock conflims the reputation of the Blackfoot shaman for intelligence in regard to weather predicting. My own experience and observation have convinced me that the remarkable success of medicine men in predicting weather is the natural result of long training and their habit of constant and expert observation of weather signs. Many other citations of shamanistic intelligence could undoubtedly be given. However, the above will suffice to indicate the general tenor of opinions, even from those who elsewhere tacitly accept the classical tradition of psychoneurotic quali- fkations for office. One further bit of evidence may be added, however. A number of field observers have remarked on the cleverness of the shaman in detecting and avoiding hopeless cases of illness, and in choosing moments for weather prophecy or clairvoyant demonstrations when they were fairly certain of success.9' The shaman 90 Ross, pp. 105, 329. 91 Mayne, pp. 260, 289. 92 Kroeber, 1925, p. 258. Il Hunter, pp. 345, 346-347. 94 BufEalo Child, p. 241. 95 For the Eskimo, see Marshall, p. 348; for the Mandan, see Catlin, p. 135; and for the success;- ful "dreamer" of the Yuma, see Forde, pp. 183, 184. Pettitt: Primitive Education in North America 129 of the Southeast went a step farther not only by avoiding doubtful cases in which he might fail, but also by having necks broken or heads smashed to prevent a discon- certing recovery on the part of doomed patients.' It seems to be clear that the shaman in North America. could not coast on a repu- tation for eccentricity without at least occasionally demonstrating his talents. Several reports indicate that actual insanity or plain stupidity was not regarded as evidence of shamanistic power, though perhaps classified as the work of super- naturals. Heckewelder says: "Insanity is not common among the Indians; yet, I have known several who were afflicted with mental derangements. Men in this situa- tion are always considered as objects of pity."' Among the Yuma of southern California: When a man knew he had the power to be a good leader, he told his dreams. If his dreams were good, his plans would be followed, but if they were poor or stupid, others would tell him so and he could do nothing.... If a leader acted stupidly, it meant that his power had deserted him and it was time to have another to decide things." Even the Copper Eskimo, whom Jenness found so open to suggestion on supernatural subjects that they could describe the little singing spirits he pointed out in the horn of his phonograph, nevertheless had no hesitation in throwing their gloves in the face of a shaman whose performance was inadequate, and in otherwise ridiculing him out of the profession.' Tanner reports a similar attitude among the Ojibwa of eastern Canada. A visiting Cree laid claim to being a medicine man, but his ven- triloquism was not up to par, and his sleight of hand was worse; so they laughed at him. Other Cree later said that the man, in spite of his fervent pretensions, was considered a fool by them, too.' Of the -Indians of this same general region, Halo- well remarks: "The Indian is no fool. He employs the same common sense reasoning processes as ourselves; so that if he firmly holds to certain beliefs, we may be sure that they are supported in some degree by an empirical foundation."'1 This beiiig granted, there still remains the question of how the classical tradition could arise. One explanation is that great numbers of people in primitive communi- ties, particularly in northern latitudes where climatic conditions and diet were to say the least monotonous, suffered from psychic aberrations which are as logically attributable to abnormality of environment as to abnormality in genetic inherit- ance. Such disturbances, occurring particularly at or about the age of adolescence, were unquestionably considered to be supernatural in origin. Shamans, as well as many others, may have had such experiences, but it is likely that they were among the least seriously affected rather than the most psychoneurotic. At the same time, in retrospect, they would dilate on how significantly the supernaturals had marked them for a professional career, and the tradition would grow, by quite normal processes, that there was a connection between early psychoses and later shamanism. -Allusion has already been made to the many ways in which the nervous mecha- nism,-haneing. ana ls ean be temporarily upset by deficiencies in the vitamin or mineral content of thdy hyperventilation associated with economic and social anxieties. Schmidt and Grer that hyporoweita bility of the neuromuscular system, which in the extreme case is m ested ilicear- popedal spasm, can be brought about by dysfunction of the parathyroids, by dietary dysfunction, by an alkaline shift in the acid-base balance produced by over- TM Swanton, 1931, p. 213. Heekewelder, p. 257. 98Forde, p. 134. 9 Jenness, 1936, pp. 186-187, 224. Tanner, p. 91. 101 Hallowell, p. 393. 130 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. breathing, continuous gastric vomiting, etc., or by an extreme deficiency in mag- nesium with or without deficiency in calcium.' Long suckling periods for young children, reliance on melted snow water, etc., would at least contribute to mineral deficiencies. Insufficient balance between muscular or lean meat and the vital inter- nal organs would contribute to vitamin deficiencies. The behavior of rats on a magnesium-deficient diet is striking in that the sounding of a shrill whistle can throw the rats into convulsions in which they bleed at the mouth and nose. It may be pure coincidence that so many primitive ceremonies in which the participants lose consciousness are opened or accompanied by the whistling of the bull-roarer, or with the shrilling of actual whistles. Jenness mentions attacks of hysteria affect- ing whole groups among the Carrier Indians, and adds: "The blowing of the Medi- cine Man's whistle is the spark that ignites the smouldering fire."' It should be added that bleeding at the nose and mouth, among manifold other causes, is charac- teristic of magnesium or calcium deficiency, and of scurvy. One shaman encoun- tered by Rasmussen in Greenland had scurvy.'0 In the present state of our knowledge, however, any interpretation of psychic disturbances among primitive peoples can be scarcely more than conjectural. The important point is that such disturbances were common, and they unquestionably affected a far larger proportion of the population than that represented by the potential shamans. Czaplicka notes that in Siberia, aside from the hysterias attrib- uted to candidates for shamanism, there was a widely occurring hysteria affecting the common people. From the descriptions given, these general hysterias do not seem to differ markedly from some of the psychic disturbances traditionally ascribed to potential shamans. Like the famous dancing manias of medieval Europe, Abys- sinia, and India, this Arctic Hysteria, as it is called, creates a condition of hypnotic suggestibility. If one person starts to dance and shout the whole village may follow suit, even people of extreme old age who normally have difficulty in walking, let alone dancing. Sufferers imitate everything they see or hear. Others go into parox- ysms and lose consciousness if spoken to. Still others, particularly among the Paleo- Asiatics, experience extreme melancholia and suicidal mania. Czaplicka herself admits that it is difficult to see any difference between Arctic Hysteria and sha- manistic hysteria. But she adds that actually there must be a difference, because the people fear one and respect the other, and because victims of Arctic IIysteria lose all volitional powers, whereas the shaman, regardless of how frenzied he may become, has his hysteria constantly under control.'0' It seems permissible to sug- gest that the shaman's hysteria or psychic abnormality, if it is not entirely synthetic, is a milder rather than a more serious form of neural disturbance. Hypnotic suggestibility in a mild form was noted by Jenness among the Cop- per Eskimo. If a leader laughed, all would laugh. If he showed grief, they would all grieve and weep.'0 Jenness also remarks on metabolic disturbances, indiges- tion, diarrhea, and something akin to ptomaine_poisox ii%g--whiich sometimes ended fatally.'0 Birket-Smith speaks o&Lth-e gi'llaI nervous instability of even the leaders j m _+ , *t Whonm he attributes a marked lack of self-control under stress. He specifically likens Eskimo nervousness to Arctic Hysteria.'0' Rasmussein relates two personal experiences which confirm this general picture. One man whom 102 Schmidt and Greenberg, 1935; also Duncan et al., 1935. For a discussion of physical phe- nomena associated with anxiety states and hyperventilation, see Kerr, l937. 103 Jenness, 1933, p. 19. 100 Rasmussen, 1908, p. 306. 100 Czaplicka, chaps. 11, 15. Jenness, 1936, p. 231. 107 Ibid., p. 42. 108 3irket-Smith, pp. 54-55. Pettitt: Primitive Education in North America 131 he knew was literally a parasite on his group. Apparently the only thing that saved him from being killed was the reputation of his father as a magician, and that of his brother as a great hunter. This man was subject to fits of fiendish anger in which he would go to pieces, stone his own dogs, and break his knife. Another indi- vidual, an orphan boy of twenty, close friend of Rasmussen and faithful companion on many arduous sledge trips, suddenly appeared to go mad one day while they were storm bound. He trembled all over, then savagely attacked Rasmussen. Later he quieted down, and the trip ended without a word being said about the strange incident. But thereafter the boy, as if ashamed, avoided his white friend.' Rasmus- sen also relates legends, partly substantiated as fairly recent history, of famines during which the bodies of the dead would be eaten, and the survivors finally develop a kind of homicidal mania.'0 Marshall says of the Koyukuk Eskimo: The most unfortunate trait which I observed in the majority of Eskimo children was their habit of becoming hysterical when they were siek.. .. No doubt these children acquired the trait from their parents, who also tend to become hysterical when ill."- Similar evidence of neural disturbance is reported for various tribes in the in- terior of Canada. Reference has already been made to the Witiko myth, according to which a person who once eats human flesh during famine has allowed the cannibal spirit to enter into him, and is thereafter feared and shunned. However, it is clear that there was a psychosis cast in the Witiko pattern to which people succumbed without actually having indulged in anthropophagy. The Rev. Cooper says: More rarely such a psychosis developed in men or women who had not themselves previously passed through famine experience.... It seems fairly clear that this particular craving in the psychosis is directly traceable to prevalent environmental and cultural conditions in the northeast Canadian woodlands."2 Of the James Bay Cree, in this same general area, the Rev. Samdon says that hysteria was quite common, especially among the women. They were subject to catalepsy, somnambulism, lethargy, hallucinations, visions, and obsessions. The disease-"Indian Fear" or "Windigo Sickness"-appears to be contagious: if one person shows signs of hysteria others do also, so that there may be veritable epi- demics in which the members of the group cannot hunt or eat and are afraid to venture out of their lodges or to be left alone. They often have convulsions and go into a coma. Jenness speaks of a comparable malady among the Carrier Indians. It makes the patient listless and without strength, subject to constant day-dreams in which some object figures prominently-in the case of Mrs. Old Sam, a stick wrapped with bands of cedar-bark. At times, especially toward evening, the patient becomes hysterical, cries hoo, hoo, hoo, and emits a long-drawn whistling sound.... She may become violent and try to bite people, or she may run away into the mountains ... and perish. 114 It is most interesting that those who have had this disease and recovered belong to a secret society, the Kaluhim, which is strongly reminiscent of the cannibal secret societies of the Northwest Coast. However, Jenness leaves no doubt in the reader's mind about the reality of the hysteria, and indicates no connection with the society except that members are the only ones who dare go near the patient. Having had the disease, they are believed immune.' It would, perhaps, be worth while to inves- 109 Rasmussen, 1908, pp. 55, 93. Ibid., pp. 289, 350. Marshall, pp. 242-243. Cooper, 1933, p. 21. Samdon, 1933, pp. 1-12. 4 Jenness, 1933, pp. 18-19. 11 Ibid., p. 19. 132 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. tigate whether the Northwest Coast cannibal ceremonies originally derived from actual hysterias of the type so prevalent in other areas without or with less impor- tant societies. Finally, it is interesting to note that even the phenomenon of bleeding at the nose, which has already been mentioned as a widely accepted sign of potential shamanistic power, is, in some areas at least, a common complaint of the general populace. Murdoch says of the Eskimo encountered in the Point Barrow expedition, "All are subject to bleeding at the nose and usually plug the bleeding nostril with a bunch of deer hair.''uo From the above facts we must conclude that if potential shamans in the Far North did exhibit their dawning spirit power by psychic disturbances of one kind or another, they were not alone in so doing. It would seem that a large percentage of the population was similarly blessed or cursed, and since not all became shamans, there must have been some other criterion of primary importance. It is here sug- gested that one such primary criterion was inherent ability. Having now considered the facts which relate to the specialized psychosis of the potential shaman, we can turn to the more generalized version of the classical tradi- tion. Let us inquire in how far shamans were probably detectable in early youth by mild peculiarities of behavior, or themselves knew they were destined to be shamans because of some vision or other supernatural experience in childhood or adolescence. This inquiry is closely related to that already instituted (see above, p. 94) on the reality of the vision experiences of the average Indian youth in areas where questing for a vision is common practice. The conclusion is that the content of visions is a later elaboration upon some moment of dissociation of consciousness, conditioned by culture patterns and subsequent life experiences. It does not seem necessary to make an exception of those special visions or psychic experiences to which shamans attribute their "call" to the profession or their first acquisition of power. Almost invariably in vision-questing areas, and in areas where all men and even women are evaluated in terms of personal power of a supernatural origin, the power of the shaman is not essentially different from ordinary power; he merely has more of it, usually derived from several supernatural beings rather than one, and including, perhaps, in this individualized pantheon, certain spirits popularly recognized as of Aesculapian significance. In discussing the ordinary vision quest, particular point was made of the fact that the vision is usually no more than hinted at until months or years after it was ostensibly experienced, and such complete and elaborate visions as are on record were obtained from very elderly people. This applies to the shaman's vision as universally as to the ordinary vision. The facts do not support any contention that power to heal or to perform feats of magic was suddenly ushered in by a vision, dream, or psychic experience. Those who traced the acquisition of power to such an event actually did not begin to make use of it for many years. The period of waiting was longest in those cases where the experience presumably came early in youth; and shortest in those cases where, as in California, the call came when the individual had reached full maturity. As Spier says: The time of life at which supernatural power may be gained is not limited among most western tribes. Those of eastern Washington and the interior of British Columbia, however, tend to restrict the quest to adolescence, and with them seem to link the secret society initiations of the Northwest Coast. One gains the impression that in northwestern California, where the acquisition is involun- tary, it descends only on adults.n7 Murdoch, p. 40. 17 Spier, 1930b, p. 277. Pettitt: Primitive Education in North America 133 Regardless of variations in age of power acquisition, the moment of first spirit contact always considerably antedates the public acceptance of the power-possessor as a shaman, and that, in my opinion, is not consistent with a great and overpowering revelation. It is more simply explained in consonance with what we know of human psychology, as an ex post facto explanation of actual ability and knowledge in terms of a classical tradition that, to the primitive mind, accounts for all variations in human achievement. Within the limits of their knowledge the Indians dealt with cause and effect just as logically as we do, but for the cause of any effect outside of those limits they cited the supernatural. They were not at variance with the modern philosophy that every effect has a cause. They were merely so closely hemmed in by the boundary between known and unknown causes,_ and the rewards for extend- ing that boundary were so inadequate for the mental labor involved, that they avoided the boundary like cows avoiding a string fence after conditioning by a charged electric wire. They were quick to seize upon causes, therefore, only when it appeared that Providence had dropped them over the fence; and when they thought they recognized the basic relation of cause and effect, that is, a time sequence between an effect of public or personal concern and some antecedent event that had been sufficiently unusual to impress itself on the memory. A good example of this process is offered in the journal of Father Sagard during his visit to the country of the Hurons some three centuries ago. One night while talking to his Indian hosts around the evening fire he unconsciously gestured with his hands and a most peculiar shadow was thrown on the wall. All remarked upon it, but then the conversation was continued. The next day the fishing was unexpectedly good, and it was not long before someone recalled Father Sagard's shadow picture of the night before. It was a possible windfall on the subject of causation from the other side of the boundary; so they urged him to try it again.' Success in curing or in perform- ing magical facts would similarly stimulate curiosity concerning cause. Any ante- cedent experience of memorable intensity would quite naturally be recalled. It is quite probable that similar experiences were, common to most, if not all, individuals, but they would not be recalled as causes unless there was an effect to be explained. Evidence of the age at which individuals began to practice shamanism is remark- ably consistent. So far as I was able to discover, there are few records of a publicly recognized shaman of tender years. Even in areas where the involuntary type of shamanistic call was particularly stressed, and the period between the call and active practice was relatively short, as among the Shasta, it is noteworthy that women seldom received such a call until their child-bearing days were over and they were presumably looking for something significant to do. These medicine men and women were not numerous. The knowledge went down in the family and only one in the family practiced it at a time. A woman, apparently, did not usually make much medicine when she had little children. She did it more as she grew older, and the older she got the better she was.?" Park confirms this question of age for western North America, with special refer- ence to the Great Basin, by stating that power comes after maturity, and a shaman reaches the peak of his reputation between the ages of sixty and seventy. Among the Owens Valley Paiute the long sequence of events preceding shamanistic practice is explained as follows by Steward (1933, p. 312): Shamanistic power came early in life, perhaps at 5 or 6 years of age, in a dream recurring until the meaning was grasped. By puberty, tunes or songs in the dream-doctors' most important possessions-were comprehended, at first as vague, distant humming, later taking form. These 118 Sagard, p. 186. I" Holt, MS. 134 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. were practiced during the day.... By 20 or 25 years of age he had many songs, considered beauti- ful, telling-if having words at all-of his power . . . Only the father and other doctors know of the power; others suspect it from his good behavior, for bad conduct made powers turn bad... By 30 or 40, his songs ready, his power said, "You are ready to announce that you are a doctor. Call the people together a certain night and sing your songs to them." The actuality of dreams not made public for twenty-five to thirty-five years, as described above, is obviously open to question, particularly when the owner admits that he realized their significance only after they recurred many times, and even then they were vague. The real acquisition was a set of songs he had composed. The dreams were a causal explanation. Among California tribes, other than the Shasta, there are many references to the maturity of tyro shamans. Among the Yuki, young boys went through the Obsidian Shaman ceremony and if they bled at the mouth they were looked upon as potential candidates (though we do not know what percentage of these candidates failed to become shamans), but "they did not, of course, become doctors until they were men."' Among the Wintun, many of those going through the Shaman Dance, seek- ing confirmation of power, were middle-aged.' Among the Pomo: "The experience which brought to a man or woman the powers of a [sucking doctor] did not ordi- narily occur until middle age." Similarly, the "outfit doctor" started his training in childhood, along purely academic lines, later became an assistant doctor, and only when he was sufficiently mature, in the opinion of his tutor, did he practice independently.' Among the Maidu, a neophyte shaman, whether he gets his power by quest or inherits it, does not try to practice for some time after conviction of power and then he begins very gradually.' The Nisenan, or Southern Maidu, pre- scribed several years of probationary practic-e as an assistant doctor for candidates seeking to become shamans, and only a few of these traced their power to dreams; the rest based their claims on a course of training under an older shaman.' The Cocopa, in southern California, followed the rule that an individual claiming to have power from dreams before he was forty to fifty years old could not practice until later in life. Some shamans, however, believed that their first intimation of power came to them in dreams or fainting spells when they were seven to ten years old.' A Yuman shaman, Manuel Thomas, traced his first acquisition of power to dreams he had at the age of twelve or so, but explains that he just did not try to use it until he was quite an old man. Another Yuman doctor, Steve, states that he was about forty when he began to practice."6 Elsewhere in western North America, among the Okanogan, the shamans were generally past the meridian of life.' Among tribes of the Puget Sound, a boy ostensibly had his first contact with a medicine spirit during his vision quest, but he did not practice until he believed he had half a dozen or more spirits at his beck and call. By that time he was probably twenty-five years old, and his powers might not be recognized by the community until he was well along in middle age.' Among the Sanpoil and Nespelem, "A shaman did not begin practice until he was quite mature. To begin the career young was to invite the enmity of older and stronger Kroeber, 1925, p. 193. t2Curtis, 1907-1930, 14:94-95. 1' Freeland, pp. 59, 63-64. 1 R. B. Dixon, pp. 278-279. 12Beals, p. 386. Gifford, 1933, pp. 310, 312. Forde, pp. 184, 189. t7 Ross, pp. 325-326. tm Haeberlin and Gunther, 1930, p. 76. Pettitt: Primitive Education in North America 135 members of the profession."' Curtis finds his credulity somewhat stretched by the long gap between the time that an embryonic shaman presumably got his power and the time that he actually was recognized, but apparently accepts the classical tradi- tion. In discussing the Nez Perce he says: If the author is right in his conclusions, we have here a most interesting phenomenon.... A child less than ten years of age, following the instructions of its parent, goes into the mountains to perform certain devotional acts.... It has been explained that a spirit will appear ... and further the child is told that when the spirit appears, he, the child, will be lying as though dead; and that when he awakens, but little of what has been seen will be remembered, that the song will be within him, but cannot be sung until years later.... The songs lie dormant for ten, perhaps fifteen years. Then, in another abnormal mental state, presumably hypnosis, the original revelation reappears.2a0 A page or so later, however, Curtis indicates that there is no actual reappearance of any revelation, but merely an ecstatic trance. The individual does not know what happened. He is told that he must have had a revelation while he was unconscious and the nature of this revelation is determined for him by the old medicine men on the basis of stray words and phrases he emitted while in the trance. He does not remember these words, but the audience repeats them and they become his power song." Among the Shoshone a man does not reach the peak of shamanism or story- telling until late in middle life."32 In eastern Canada the Ojibwa conjurer presumably obtained his power in a puberty vision quest but did not practice until later. "Only men in the prime of life could conjure."' Also, "a boy did not become a great warrior or medicine man immediately after his vision, but he prepared and trained for the calling until he was mature and ready to 'graduate."' The Menomini believe that no spirit visions are vouchsafed to an individual after puberty, but apparently here as elsewhere the power has to vegetate, for usually one cannot become a sorcerer until middle age.' Smoking Star, the Blackfoot, claimed to have had power as a boy, but it was not until his son died that he began to think seriously of using it, and then he began to listen to the medicine songs and to meditate much; he also attached himself to a practicing shaman as an assistant.'3 Black Elk, the Oglala medicine man, claimed that he was hearing voices at five years of age, and heard them periodically after that, particularly when he had a vision at nine. But he did not become a shaman until he was fully mature, and then only after going through a number of cere- monies at the urgent request of an old medicine man. He implies that, had it not been for the awakening process of the ceremonies, his great power might have been lost to the world. He says: You remember that my great vision came to me when I was only nine years old, and you have seen that I was not much good for anything until after I had performed the horse dance.... If the great fear had not come upon me, as it did, and forced me to do my duty, I might have been less good to the people than some man who had never dreamed at all, even with the memory of so great a vision in me. But the fear came, and if I had not obeyed it, I am sure it would have killed me in a little while.'37 Concerning the Winnebago Medicine Society, Paquette says that any person initiated was supposed to be a medicine man, but actually they did not know enough I2 Ray, 1932, p. 203. Co Curtis, 1907-1930, 8: 70-71. Ibid., p. 73. Shimkin, MS. 30Jenness, 1935, p. 65. '3Ibid., p. 51. a3 Skinner, 1913a, pp. 44-45. Wissler, 1922b. '30Neihardt, p. 208. 136 University of California Publtications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. and those few who really began to practice waited until they were well on in years.' There are two references to Papago medicine men who were still studying in secret after marriage.' The Yavapai believed that a youth might discover he was going to be a shaman through having animals talk to him in the wilderness, but he did not tell anyone about it and never made use of his power until he was over thirty.'4 One Havasupai story describes a shaman as already a man when he began to confirm his power, and it was two years before he was recognized as a shaman.' The classical tradition among these people is that power comes through dreams. Even among the Pueblo peoples, where the only vestige of the classical tradition of acquiring power is the requirement that one must be cured by, and initiated into, a medicine society, there is no indication that anyone practiced medicine in youth. The above examples indicate that it was only after long cogitation that an Amer- ican Indian came to the conclusion that he had obtained power through some youthful or supernatural experience. Even then his decision that he had power was not accepted until he had gained knowledge of the profession and had demonstrated the effectiveness of his power. It is reasonable to conclude, from even cursory experi- ence with human beings, that there were many who thought they had power who were never able to prove it. This is confirmed by a number of cases of individuals who claim that they had power and then lost it or had it taken away from them. Spier gives an example of an eighteen-year-old Modoc who had been called to shamanism because he had bled at the mouth for several days. Under normal circum- stances this clear call would have resulted in an initiation, but the officiating shaman decided the call was from bad spirits, hence would not continue the initiation. As the shaman was the boy's uncle, we may presume that his intimate knowledge of the candidate overruled the decision of the supernaturals,-in spite of the Modoc belief that calls cannot be ignored.' The northwestern Maidu believed that all sucking doctors had to be dreamers, but there were dreamers who never became doctors.' The Tanaino of southern Alaska believe that calls to shamanism cannot be re- fused, but one man claims that his call was nullified by a powerful shaman. Another man, sixty-two years old, declared that he could have been a shaman but had suc- cessfully resisted a number of calls.'" Mention has already been made of shamans who presumably felt that they had been called but who were ridiculed because of poor shamanistic performances. Among the Quinault on the Northwest Coast, and among the distant Apache, it was difficult to find a middle-aged man who did not have some medicine power, but only a few were professionals.'4 Among the Haida, off the Northwest Coast, some men claimed that they had had psychic experiences such as shamans had, but they managed to escape from the spirits.' Chona, the Papago woman, claimed that as a girl she had had visions, dreamed songs, and was becoming a shaman, but her father said one in the family was enough; so they called in an older shaman who sucked some magic crystals out of her and buried them in a cactus. That, apparently, put the quietus on the spirits-"' Son of Old Man Hat, a Navaho, asserts that he was a somnambulist and had fainting spells as a boy, but his mother put medicine on him. He never became a chanter.' That the shaman's expranation of how he became a shaman is largely a culturally conditioned story, is suggested by the complete overstepping of the bounds of Thwaites, p. 425. I" Osgood, 1937, p. 182. 3"8 Underhill, p. 43. A5Olson, 1936, p. 141; Opler, 1935, p. 70. "0 Giff ord, 1936, p. 310. ' Swanton, 1909b, p. 40. " Spier, 1928, p. 278. 147 Underhill, p. 22. 142Spier and Sapir, pp. 326-328. 1" Dyk, pp. 63-64. "" Loeb, 1933, p. 159. Pettitt: Primitive Education in North America 137 credulity in a number of areas. The shaman claims that the spirits first came to him while he was in his mother's womb. The Iglulik believe that spirit power can be de- tected by the way an unborn baby kicks when his mother transgresses a taboo, and when the child later, for the same offense, beats her on the head or urinates down her back.149 The tribes in the Great Bear Lake region of Canada claim that their best shamans got power before they were born. One old shaman recalled that he saw a star before his birth and that star revealed to him all medicines that have power over man."10 Among the Menomini, where the vision dream is the talisman of power and the Thunder Bird is the greatest spirit, bringing strong power and ability in the art of prophecy, individuals sometimes claim that they did more than meet the Thunder Bird-he was their real father. It is explained that the Thunder Bird can enter the womb of a woman without her knowledge and cause her to be pregnant. The supernatural origin of the child is not suspected until it shows signs of pre- occupation, and lack of interest in ordinary childish sports.'5' The Canadian Dakota also believe that a shaman receives power before birth, and some shamans say that if they had so wished they could have been born as white men instead of Indians. Later visions, they say, merely confirm the power which they know they have and tell them when to start thinking seriously.' The stories of some Winnebago shamans are similar.'"1 Several mentions of prenatal power-acquisition occur in the literature on Cali- fornia. The Yuba River Maidu subscribed to the belief that the Yom or sucking doctor had power when born, but it was merely not revealed to him until later in life.'"0 Diegueiio shamans apparently often claimed that they had dreamed from infancy on, and others of this tribe are reputed to have been born with power.' Similarly, the Mohave and the Yuma tribes trace all knowledge as well as power back to dreams which began not only before birth but, by some fourth-dimensional magic, before the beginning of tribal history. Concerning the Mohave, Kroeber says: A So deep are these convictions, especially as old age comes on, that most Mohave can no longer distinguish between what they have received from other men and what is their own inward experience. They learn, indeed, as much as other people; but since learning seems an almost valueless nothing, they dream over, or believe they have first dreamed, the things which they in common with every other Mohave know. It is a strange attitude, and one that can grow only out of a remarkable civilization.... There is no people whose activities are more shaped by this psychic state, or what they believe to be such.156 I echo Kroeber's statement in respect to the whole classical tradition of power- acquisition by shamans: "It is a strange attitude, and one that can grow only out of a remarkable civilization." Following the basic scientific rule that the best expla- nation of any strange phenomenon is the simplest one that can be deduced from the facts, it seems safe to say that the classical tradition concerning the psychic or psychopathic inspiration of North American shamans was in the great majority of instances merely a culturally patterned explanation of abilities, derived more from retrospective imagination than from actual fact. In basic structure the culture pattern may have been influenced by environmentally caused psychic disturbances affecting large numbers of the people in the community. Susceptibility of the 149 Rasmussen, 1929a, pp. 116-117. 110 Osgood, 1933, p. 84. 51 Skinner, 1913a, p. 77. 152 Wallis, p. 323. 15' Radin, 1937, pp. 115-117. 154 Loeb, 1933, p. 180. '55 Spier, 1923, p. 313. 16 Kroeber, 1925, pp. 754-755. 138 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. genetic strain of various groups through isolation and inbreeding may, perhaps, have played some part, as it apparently does in setting the incidence of epileptoid seizures for particular communities in modern times. There is no doubt that psychic phenomena of a remarkable character can occur, but the evidence for the American Indian shaman is less convincing than is recorded elsewhere. The Rev. James B. Finley, in his autobiography, Pioneer Life in the West, said of the white pioneers: Children were often made the instruments through which the Lord wrought. At one of these powerful displays of Divine power, a boy about ten years old broke from the stand in time of preaching under very strong impressions, and having mounted a log at some distance and raising his voice in a most affecting manner, cried out: "If any man thirst, let him come unto me and drink.. ." He spoke for near an hour with that convincing eloquence that could be inspired only from Heaven.... At this moment the power of God fell upon the assembly, and sinnerp fell as men slain in mighty battle. The Rev. James Finley was so impressed that he made a close inspection of the fallen sinners. He said that before they became wholly powerless they were seized by a tremor, and often uttered piercing shrieks. They jerked until exhausted and then fell to the ground. Their pulse was weak, and their breathing difficult and spasmodic. We find nothing to match this among the Indians. The Indian tyro waited long for his power to develop. He began to practice with typically mundane misgivings and fears. He did not jump into the profession with a completely formulated con- viction of power, such as would be expected if the classical tradition were, in the majority of instances, based upon fact. It would be more accurate to say that the neophyte began with a suspicion that he had power and sought conviction through achievement of results. Unless the American Indian was totally different from other human beings, there were many who had the suspicion but who never got the conviction, and therefore, again, intelligence and talent were the important criteria. This conclusion is supported by such information as is available concerning the way in which shamans began their practice. Thalbitzer says the Eskimo shaman candidate studied in secret under many tutors for five to ten years before trying his power.'6 Rasmussen adds that in the majority of instances the secret candidate for the position of shaman was one who had already achieved prominence as a great hunter, and whose supernatural relations were consequently respected before he began. Such a man usually waited to begin his career until some calamity struck his community which all the other shamans had been unable to prevent or to overcome. Then he tested his power under circumstances which minimized the seriousness of a failure and made of success a spectacular and convincing demonstration."6 Nelson confirms the tentative nature of a man's candidacy for shamanism in the following words: A man first becomes aware of shamanic powers by having his attention drawn to some remark- able circumstance or event in his life. Having noticed this, he secures the aid of some old shaman, or practices in secret, to secure control of sufficient power to warrant announcing himself to the people.'L5 Kinalik, a respected female shaman among the Caribou Eskimo, had started her career by dreaming that a certain man was going to be taken ill, and later he actually did fall sick. But this demonstration was merely enough to indicate that she could be a shaman if she tried hard, and suffered enough. To achieve that suffering she was suspended in the air from the roof of her lodge for five days and nights in bliz- 157 Thalbitzer, p. 78. 158 Rasmussen, 1908, pp. 140-148. 159 Nelson, p. 428. Pettitt: Primitive Education in North America 139 zard weather.160 Quite frequently the first intimation of possible power is not a psychic experience, but a miracle such as recovering from an apparently fatal illness or being saved from what seems certain death. A number of cases of this type are recorded for the Eskimo.1"' The Kutchin in the northwestern corner of Canada also state that an individual suspecting shamanistic powers must study and practice in secret until he is sure of himself before making any public announcement.'62 Tanner says of his adopted Ojibwa mother, that during a protracted famine, the old woman was the most resourceful of the crowd; she would spend all day looking for game tracks and then come back and claim that she had dreamed that game would be found in such and such a place."' Hoffman records that the Jossakeed or nonmedicine lodge shamans were osten- sibly inspired by the supernaturals, but this inspiration was not accepted by the public until they had demonstrated their powers successfully several times.' Among the Menomini, success in predicting rain is looked upon as a sign of dawning shaman power.'65 The Penobscot believe that many people have power without realizing it, and that it is only by practicing in secret that the individual can dis- cover his potentialities.'" The Cherokee shaman begins his career by letting it be whispered about that he has been studying for some time under older shamans, and gradually people come to him with very minor matters just to test him out and see what he has to offer. If he is successful his reputation grows ;"67 if not, we may pre- sume, the people stop consulting him, and he becomes one of those individuals who are sure they could have been shamans had not some evildoer put a spell on them, or some accident occurred. Black Elk, the Oglala Sioux, whose life story is probably the best extant descrip- tion of the development of a shaman, says that his first experience was as an assistant to an old medicine man during a treatment for a wounded warrior. He felt a surging within him when he helped in this way, but did not attempt to practice until he had gone through many ceremonies and had advice from a number of medicine men. His first case was a sick boy. He confesses that he was in great doubt over what to do, but was so eager to prove himself that he threw all the power he had into the problem, and feared for a time that it was too much. The boy was well in four days. He adds, "When the people heard about how the little boy was cured, many came to me for help, and I was busy most of the time." Incidentally, Black Elk, apparently, was precocious, for he claims that he was only about nineteen when publicly recognized.'68 The Blackfoot shaman, Wolf Head, received his first intima- tion of supernatural power through surviving a storm in which lightning appar- ently struck near, seriously injuring him and killing one of his companions. He declares that he started to dream from that time on, and that Thunder Boy came to him in his dreams; but the imaginative nature of his story is inferable from his further claim of having dreamed how to operate a white man's camera before he saw one, even down to the process of developing film. In addition, he dreamed about coal Rasmussen, 1929b, pp. 56-57. For examples among the Copper and Iglulik Eskimo, see: Jenness, 1936, p. 198; Rasmussen, 1929a, pp. 120-121. 1a Osgood, 1936, p. 158. "'Tanner, p. 74. Hoffman, p. 222. '5Skinner, 1913a, p. 77. e6 Speck, 1919, p. 246. 17 Mooney and O]brechts, p. 103. 68 Neihardt, pp. 202-206. 140 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. and mined it, dreamed a bust of King Edward and of Queen Victoria, which he later carved, and dreamed a syllabary language for the Blackfoot.' Catlin records that the Mandan method of finding rain makers was to have all the younger men who felt powerful- try, one after another, to bring rain during a drought. Eventually rain came, and the man then performing became the idol of the season. The others decided their talents lay along other lines. Catlin says that the secret of success was to know enough about weather signs to begin at the proper moment. One aspirant, while trying to bring rain, was interrupted by the arrival of a river steamer which discharged a volley of cannon. The young wonder-worker thereupon declared that it was all due to his medicine, but failed to sell this claim to the public.'"? Crashing Thunder, the Winnebago, states that he made no attempt to use the power ostensibly obtained by joining the medi- cine society until one day, while slightly intoxicated, he bragged of his powers. Someone, calling his bluff, asked him to treat a woman in labor who continually suffered from difficult parturition. Much to Crashing Thunder's surprise and pleasure, the birth proved to be the easiest the woman had ever had. He began to believe that he might be as powerful as he said he was.'q That a successful demon- stration of power was most important to the shaman is further indicated by Catlin's description of the shaman's activities among the Blackfoot: There are some instances, of course, where the exhausted patient unaccountably recovers under the application of these absurd forms; and in such eases, the ingenious son of the Indian Aescula- pius will be seen for several days after on the top of a wigwam, with his right arm extended and waving over the gaping multitude, to whom he is vaunting forth, without modesty, the surprising skill he has acquired in his art,-and the undoubted efficacy of his medicine or mystery.'" Some of the most interesting accounts of the beginning of shamanistic careers are found in reports from the Northwest Coast and hinterland. For the Sanpoil and Nespelem, it is reported that a neophyte accepted his first cases without pay in order to have an opportunity for demonstration. A single initial failure would not ruin his career, but several in succession would make it practically impossible for him to continue, regardless of how significant his preceding psychic experiences might have been. Because of the importance of success, various methods were used to test power in secret. One shaman, John Tom, confessed that he experimented on a horse first. He was twenty-five years old at the time, and the commentator remarks that he was exceptionally young.l The shamans of the near-by Lummi frequently first tested their power by secretly attempting to nullify the efforts of some older shaman who was trying to bring about a cure. If the older shaman's cure failed, then the neophyte felt sufficiently encouraged to announce himself and try a cure. If his first cure was successful his reputation began to grow.'7 The Klallam pursued simi- lar tactics. "A shaman would not try his powers before an audience until he was fairly sure of himself, for to try and fail was considered most ignominious."17 Bob Pope, a Quinault shaman, confessed that he began his career by secretly testing his power on an old woman who was dying anyway. The ethnologist says: "That is the secret of some medicine men; they never tell that they have power until they have had a chance to test it. If they find that they can really cure people then they tell what spirit it is they have."'1 The Thompson Indians recognized recovery from 169 Buffalo Child, pp. 224 ff. 170 Catlin, pp. 134-138. 7 Radin, 1926, p. 137. 1T72Catlin, p. 39. 173 Ray, 1932, p. 203. 174Stern, p. 75. Gunther, 1927, p. 297. 176 Olson, 1936, p. 183. Pettitt: Primitive Education in North America 141 a serious illness as a sign of prophetic powers. Any person who was seriously ill was believed to be in fairly close proximity to the spirit land."' Though involuntary calls to shamanism were traditional among the Shasta, sha- mans adopted by older shamans for training from childhood on were those most respected. "It was this kind 'who started young' who became powerful shamans."'1 For central and northwestern California generally, Kroeber says, there was usually a ceremony to mark the entrance of a new shaman into the profession, one salient purpose of which was to bring the experience and recognizedly greater power of old shamans into focus on the candidate, for his own and the public welfare, before he began to practice. "Commonly it is thought that the novice cannot receive and exercise the full use of his powers without this assistance."'179 The Southern Maidu also stressed training. The power of the shaman was frequently restricted to the formulae that he knew, and he acquired the first by learning the latter. He might or might not claim to have had direct contact with the supernaturals. One way to begin a career was to discover the secret of some practicing shaman's medicine.' The Diegueiio of southern California apparently recognized that the way for a rattlesnake shaman to begin his career was by a secret test of his power on someone who had been bitten.'81 The gradual manner in which a shaman entered his profession among the Hava- supai of the Southwest is indicated by a report from Spier. This particular shaman sought to evolve spirit songs by keeping a rattle beside his bed and practicing when- ever he woke up with inspiration. He first tried his powers by singing over his nephew. The public was very skeptical at first, but in the course of time he came to be accepted.'8 Among the Yavapai, trances were the accepted preliminary for shamanism; at least one shaman, however, traced his power to recovery from a long illness in which he had been abandoned for dead."' The husband of Chona, a Papago, studied in secret for a long time. The fact that he had power was disclosed, and people began coming to him. "They think he has more power than an old one; he has not used it up." With that Chona's husband began to practice more seriously, and equipped himself with a gourd rattle and eagle feathers."' If we accept the evidence as trustworthy, the Apache tried out potential rain makers much as did the northern Plains tribes. According to a captive among them, three young men who suspected they had power tried and failed. The fourth was crowned by suc- cess-a storm cloud appeared, and when he shot an arrow at it, rain came. Thus his reputation was enhanced.' Without doubt the successful candidate would be en- couraged to seek some explanation of how and when he had received the power he had demonstrated. His life might have fewer events of psychic potentiality in it than the lives of the unsuccessful rain makers. But these events would immediately assume greater significance, and in harmony with the Apache version of the classical tradition of shamanistic cause and effect, he would elaborate a satisfactory explana- tion. The others would remain dubious about their own experiences until some similar achievement threw them into prominence. Certain facts about the shaman in primitive North America seem to be clear. The majority of shamans served a socially useful purpose in accepting popular beliefs 177 Teit, 1900, p. 365. 17 Holt, MS. 179 Kroeber, 1907c, p. 330. " Beals, p. 385. t Spier, 1923, p. 313. Idem, 1928, p. 278. Gifford, 1932, pp. 235-236. Underhil, p. 48. "' Edwin Eastman, pp. 185-186. 142 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. concerning the relation between the natural and the supernatural, regardless of how or by whom they were originated; they were generally rewarded by the com- munity in goods, privileges, and prestige. The profession had its hazards, too, for the less skillful, intelligent, or perhaps clever, practitioner might have to compen- sate for his failures in rather painful ways. Too many failures or too much unpopu- larity might lead to his assassination regardless of his claims of having been selected by the supernaturals and of being under their especial protection. But on the whole, the advantages seemed to be greater than the handicaps, for no people lacking the priest seemed to be without the shaman. Everywhere, when shamans were needed, the social group encouraged youths and others to enter the profession, either by citing the rewards it brought, or by citing the danger that lay in trying to ignore a suspicion of power. That any individual actually entered the profession in abso- lute opposition to all his personal inclinations is rather difficult to believe. It is difficult to believe, both because Indian nature, or human nature, as we understand it, is seldom averse to such social and economic rewards as accompanied success in shamanism; and because the relatively great mental and physical effort required for success in shamanistic practice could hardly be achieved without the direct stimulus of the will. It seems more logical to classify claims to the contrary as part of the fictional tradition than to accept them as fact without more definite proof. Charles Eastman, a Sioux, recalls that he was taught as a boy: "To be a great warrior is a noble ambition; but to be a mighty medicine man is nobler."' Buffalo Child states that usually every Blackfoot youth considered trying to be a medicine man at some time in his life-there were many chiefs, but few great medicine men.' The Ojibwa believed that medicine spirits were the most powerful of all, and parents might encourage children to seek them, but "as a psychologist might inter. pret it, only those who possessed the peculiar mentality necessary to obtain the 'call' and carry out the role in full sincerity" received these special blessings.' The Cree learned from childhood on that the only tipi which could not be entered with- out first knocking was that belonging to the medicine man.' Flathead children were conditioned at a very early age to respect the shamans.' The Tlingit clan was very happy to have a new shaman appear in its ranks because it insured the future, and respect for the shaman was so great that one could not pass the house of a living doctor or the grave of a dead one without some small offering.' Of the Quinault youth it is said: "From earliest childhood he was impressed with the necessity of obtaining shamanistic power." Those who obtained a surplus of power which enabled them to practice professionally were just more fortunate than others.' Equally strong is the impression that in primitive tribes youth generally was en- couraged to try for shamanistic powers, unless there was already a shaman in the family or a sufficient number in the community. In most areas of North America the shaman had prerogatives of dress and decoration, as well as of behavior, which in primitive circles were desirable privileges. On evidence presented in this section, I conclude that shamanism was only inci- dentally related to psychic disturbances; that it was a career coveted by many more individuals than were actually able to achieve it, even in areas where the classical tradition prescribed outward resistance; and that the major criteria of success were 8 Charles Eastman, 1902, pp. 22-23. 187 Buffalo Child, p. 46. '8 Jenness, 1935, p. 60. 18 Paget, pp. 54-62. "'I Turney-High, p. 28. 1 Swanton, 1904-1905, p. 466. a Olson, 1936, pp. 141-143. Pettitt: Primitive Education in North America 143 skill and intelligence, in which the acquired ability to achieve a trance or otherwise to control normally involuntary neural and muscular reactions was frequently an important but not an absolutely indispensable asset-which brings us to the point that the training of the shaman was primary and any previously possessed eccen- tricities were secondary. From an examination of the type of training that could produce the observed results it becomes apparent that the preparation of the sha- man in his highest development required not only the acquisition of a remarkably extensive knowledge of natural science and empirical psychology, but also a degree of self-control and self-discipline through concentrated meditation such as is seldom exceeded by any professional in modern society. Concerning the training of the Eskimo shaman, Bilby seems to have most clearly discerned the underlying truth. He points out that anyone, man or woman, is eligible to try for the profession, and says that the criteria of success are to be described in terms of acquired skills and abilities; a really high degree of mental concentration, of intuition, of character reading, and attained occult gifts. He adds that a natural or acquired power of a controlled trance state is not essential to prac- tice but is a requisite for the highest degree of dignity in the profession.' The can- didate for power, as observed by Bilby, was first required to find a teacher, under whom he served for as long a period of time as the instructor found it possible to demand. The first step is a full confession of all sins, actual or potential. Fasting and abstinence and the mastery of the appetites of eating and drinking are the first trials and the first victories he has to win.... The neophyte eschews all luxuries whilst learning, again, of course, with the idea of self-command and of that detachment from the unnecessary things of life which-under civilized conditions also-hang so many trammels round a finer aspira- tion.... The strict diet, the austerities, the real course of mental training, improve the candidate's natural powers of mind, enhance his memory, and concentrate his will and consolidate so solid a belief in the system and powers he is attaining that the graduate has really, at last, something professional and exclusive to offer the community. The aspirant has to become absolutely familiar with all the ancient customs of the people, and their significance. Then he has to study the spirit language, the tongue of the conjurors-that is to say, the language in which spirits are to be addressed and in which they express themselves through the initiate.'" In addition, the candidate must learn the symptoms of disease and the various kinds of penance which play so vital a role in Arctic theurgy. He must be able to detect guilt in the faces and actions of his fellowmen. He must learn to throw himself in and out of a state of self-hypnosis at will. Bilby frankly expresses the opinion that the candidates acquire this ability. He says: The candidates sit night after night with the teacher, faces to the wall, and the lamps burning low, shutting out all extraneous objects and distractions, in the endeavor to see the light, to pass into a trance. Those who remain forever unable to arrive at this, fail to pass the test, and are re- jected from the class of the full-fledged. They must content themselves with minor dignities in the order of conjurors.-9' Jenness gives a similar analysis in his account of the Copper Eskimo. He says: Long practice in self-hypnosis, combined at times, perhaps, with organic weakness and an incli- nation toward hallucinations ... help to induce the condition (which the shaman attains in a seance) ... There may be conscious fraud in the early stages of a shaman's career, in some cases perhaps all through it. Even if a shaman begins by consciously deceiving his audience, the constant repetition of the action, combined with auto-suggestion and a belief that others have done what he is pretending to do, must inevitably lead in most cases to his deceiving himself.'" Rasmussen, in speaking of the Iglulik, again confirms the fact that the first step in becoming a shaman is to obtain a teacher and to pay him. The teacher's first duty 19 Bilby, p. 196. "19 Ibid., pp. 197-200. '4 Ibid. '" lenness, 1936, p. 216. 144 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. is to inquire into the candidate's antecedents through a full confession from him and from his parents as well. If he believes the candidate has a chance, he then retires to solitude to meditate and consult the spirits. If the augury is favorable, instruction begins. The candidate must move as little as possible, must eat sparingly, and must concentrate. The essential point of the instruction is to lead the pupil to such a point of intense self-contemplation that he feels himself suffused with light; a luminous fire which enables him to see in the dark literally and metaphorically. He then begins to think on the problem of attracting familiar spirits. But before a shaman attains the stage at which any helping spirit would think it worth while to come to him, he must, by struggle and toil and concentration of thought, acquire for himself yet another great and inexplicable power; he must be able to see himself as a skeleton, ... and he must then name all the parts of his body, mention every single bone by name; and in so doing, he must not use ordinary human speech, but only the special and sacred shaman's language which he has learned from his instructor.19 It is significant that in this description Rasmussen states that the quest for spirit support comes after this long instruction, during a year of effort in which the diet of the neophyte is made distinctly inadequate. That is, he is restricted to raw, lean flesh; and bone marrow, entrails, head, or tongue of any animal is proscribed. There appears to be a conflict among these Eskimo between the classical tradition that signs of supernatural preferment should be shown first, and the practical opinion that training must be first. This point was debated -at length before Rasmussen with- out any final conclusion except that the supernatural beings should pay more atten- tion to the individual who has already studied hard. Thalbitzer adds that the neophyte frequently studied under many magicians before attempting to practice." The basic nature of isolation, and introspective thought, is indicated by the fact that regardless of details of acquiring knowledge, stress is laid upon fasting and meditation. The Caribou Eskimo, one of the most impoverished groups, pointedly considered all dramatic accompaniments of sha- manistic practice: self-hypnosis, ventriloquism, sleight of hand, use of an esoteric' language, and so on, as palpable attempts by profane individuals to defraud a gullible public. They felt that there was only one way for a shaman to reach the spirits and to help his fellowmen, and that was through suffering and meditation. Igjugaryuk, a Caribou shaman, told Rasmussen: For myself, I do not think I know much, but I do not think that wisdom or knowledge about things that are hidden can be sought in that manner. True wisdom is only to be found far away from people, out in the great solitude, and it is not found in play, but only through suffering.190 The basic necessity of solitude and meditation is stressed wherever the shaman is found. Radin points out that mental concentration was a sine qua non for the attain- ment of spirit power of any kind among the Winnebago,' and it was much the same elsewhere. Even the priest had to meditate much. However, meditation could not, any more than could psychic sensitivity, account for many of the accomplishments of the shaman. Among these accomplishments, found from place to place, were: ventriloquism, sleight of hand, Houdini-like escape stunts, eating fire or juggling it, putting the hand in boiling water, sword swallowing, and optical illusions of various kinds, such as causing plants to sprout, making inanimate objects come to life, plunging knives into the body or stopping bullets, causing inanimate objects to move or shake without touching them, causilig the human body to become larger or smaller at will, drinking from four to five gallons of water without pause, and so on. Some accomplishments were just tricks, some seemed to depend on real >' Rasmussen, 1929a, pp. 111-114. Rasmussen, 1929b, p. 54. 198 Thalbitzer, p. 78. 200 Ratlin, 1915, pp. 310-311. Pettitt: Primitive Education in North America 145 powers of mass hypnosis; others were clearly traceable to extraordinary skill and dexterity, as with the shaman who trained himself to make a standing leap into a space hardly larger than his foot at the center of a twelve-foot circle of sharpened stakes, and to do it with his arms tied behind him and his big toes lashed together. Except for the Eskimo, very little information about how shamans are taught is to be found. This may be for the reason that the classical tradition denies the im- portance of training and stresses supernatural sources of skill and knowledge. Many shamans, apparently, are not clear in their own minds how much they have learned from others, because of their constant reiteration of the classical tradition concerning themselves. They speak always, or almost always, of having sought older shamans for what they call guidance or advice. They speak of training when discussing shamanism in the abstract, or when describing the careers of others. But the exact process is exceedingly vague. Yet, granting that the argument in these pages is correct, the great majority of them had to acquire the greater part of their factual knowledge from others, and had to perfect their skill under a system of guided practice. After a fashion this guided practice was comparable to an appren- ticeship, in which the pupil served as an assistant to his master. But it was appar- ently more than an ordinary apprenticeship, for the student usually paid highly for his instruction, and the shaman often seemed to combine the idea of public service with profit motives. On the Northwest Coast, among the Haida, there is some indication of who did the teaching, shamanistic knowledge being inherited, usually from the mother's brother, whose responsibilities with respect to the tribe have already been described (see above, pp. 18 f.).' In this area, one of the accomplishments of the shaman was to speak the language of a neighboring tribe, the Tlingit, Tsimshian, Bella Bella, etc., from whose countries guardian spirits were supposed to come. Curtis adds that the candidate also had to confirm his spirits by spending as long as two years in isola- tion; fasting and taking laxatives and fish oil alternately. On his return, older shamans would help him with his spirit songs.' Dall makes it quite clear that in his opinion the accomplishments of the shaman were often acquired through long practice after having inherited from some relative the drums, rattles, masks, and other paraphernalia. He indicates that inheritance would be of no avail unless the neophyte had the requisite mental or psychological make-up to learn to work himself into a state by fasting, dancing, drumming, and fixing his gaze on some object. In a seance, "these movements gradually become more convulsive; his eyes roll till the whites alone are visible. Suddenly he stops, looks intently at the drum, and utters loud cries." Dall states that the neophyte prepared himself by long fasting in solitude, either in the mountains or beside the grave of a former medicine man, holding a tooth or finger broken from the corpse in his mouth.' Sapir describes the training of a Nootka Indian as not essentially different from a shaman's. The youth, as among the Haida, looked to his maternal uncle, as well as to his father, for instruction in supernatural lore and in the ways of acquiring personal spirit power. Personal suffering was stressed as the road to wisdom. "There was little that one could not learn to do, if only he were hardy enough to undergo the necessary magical preparation." The powers of the medicine man were available to those with the will power and the ability to achieve them. There might be an advanLtage in having a relative bequeath his power and the knowledge that went 2' Swanton, 1909c, p. 38. "a Curtis, 1907-1930, 11:137. 20" Dall, pp. 425-427. 146 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. with it. But this inheritance had to be spiritually confirmed.' Similar practices prevailed among the Coast Salish.' Swan says of the natives around Shoalwater Bay: The young men, after passing through the fast, and being found qualified, are further instructed by some of the old doctors, but particularly as to the nature of the skookums, and whether cures cannot be effected by simples, without resort to mesmerism.... The doctors have various kinds of neeromancy or jugglery which they perform for the cure of their patients. Nor do they all possess the same gifts.... It is only the strong men or women who see the medicine Tomanawos; all others see the Tomanawos of inferior grade.f Since a bequest of power usually carried a transfer of knowledge with it, and the candidate did not begin to practice until late in life, the question may be asked whether the earlier acquisition of shaman visions was recognized before or during the subsequent instruction.' Stern says that one of the first steps in learning to be a Lummi shaman is to watch the active practitioners.' In the Plateau area, in eastern Canada, and in the northern Plains, where the vision quest was so strongly advocated for boys, every boy was indirectly urged to become a shaman, for all were stimulated to seek strong power, to suffer a little more, or to fast a little longer. And the ability to stand such tests was one of the criteria of the shaman. As Jenness says of the Ojibwa: Parents could help their children to become medicine men by encouraging expectations of definite types of dreams, by regulating the manner of their fastings, and by placing them under the tutelage of established medicine men; but all this was of no avail unless the child itself was mentally so constituted that it received a clear-cut vision confirming its conscious or unconscious aspiration.2* The implication of this statement, divested of the classical tradition, is that many more youths were encouraged to join the shamanistic profession, or independently sought it, than were able to achieve it. The explanation of either success or failure was provided by the nature of the vision. Jenness goes on to say that the Wabeno, or medical shaman, used herbs to supplement his spirit power, and he had to learn his medical lore from older shamans. He visited his teacher from time to time, made him a gift and then waited for words of wisdom. He might have several teachers, and usually served an actual apprenticeship uinder one of them. The tradition is that a boy did not start this training until sure of of his vision. However, there is no evidence of the reality of the vision except the recollection of the shaman himself and the popularly supported classical tradition. The vision is kept secret. As already pointed out, it is doubtful that the vision takes specific form until success in sha- manism or in some other calling has indicated what kind of vision the individual should and must have had. The only extramundane intercessor of the Ojibwa who ostensibly received no training was the Djiskiu, or conjurer. However, Jenness adds, in partial explanation, that he never began to practice before full manhood, and many of them actually used knowledge gained in the Grand Medicine Lodge, with the explanation that they could accomplish results through personal power alone, but it was too exhausting.' It is pertinent to note that wherever medicine societies occurred, the practicing doctors who belonged to them tended to attach greater importance to the power m' Sapir, 1922, pp. 308-311. 205 Curtis, 1907-1930, 9 :103-104. Swan, pp. 176-177. a`7Gunther, 1927, p. 297. 208 Stern, p. 75. 0 Jenness, 1935, p. 60. 10Ibid., pp. 65-68. Pettitt: Primitive Education in North America 147 acquired through membership and instruction in the mysteries than they did to the power ostensibly acquired through earlier personal vision. If the visions were real, and unmistakably clear, this sloughing would scarcely have taken place. Among the Eastern Cree the tradition was that a man could accomplish nothing more in life than was revealed to him in dreams, or, it is added, than he learned later in the "Midewin."' Among the Omaha: It is interesting that no man realized that entrance into all the sacred societies was always by transfer. The belief was and is general that members of a former generation obtained their power and their entrances without intervention of a "priest" . . . No one got any direct social power from the individual quest; but an air of illusion in regard to the possibilities was general. . . . It was understood by the outside public that a man had such control of his Supernatural Patron that he could induce vision of it in the novice whom he "caused to see the supernatural." So vision by transfer was real vision. In this way knowledge of transfer was reconciled with the claims of individuality of vision.... The initiate laid aside his solitary vision and depreciated its power in comparison with his acquired vision. His acquired vision was associated with public respect, public power, and a traditional doctoring good will.2t It is further explained that the process of preparing a novice to see the supernatural was actually a course of instruction in the nature of the society vision, the sacred songs, the secret herbs, and such forms of necromancy as the society practiced. Some initiates were so impressed by the power of the society that they would try one of its reputed miracles, such as plunging a knife in their own breast, before they had learned that there was a trick to it.' In some cases the classical tradition breaks down to the extent that certain sha- mans make a virtue of having acquired their power otherwise. An Oto explained his power as coming from a vision, but others said that was a poor way. It was better to have a man's father tell a young doctor what he should know and bequeath him power, because visions might be lies, "only your father will not lie to you."' The Crow also believe that spirits sometimes play tricks and give a false vision which later leads to disaster.' Every ancient and highly respected medicine bundle among the Plains tribes and those of neighboring areas tends to make its possessor a prophet or doctor. Skinner points out that medicine bundles appear to be accu- mulations of charms, amulets, and associated spiritual powers which originally merely supplemented the personal power of some individual. But through inherit- ance from generation to generation they have come to have an identity and power of their own separate from the guardian-spirit idea.'6 Power is obtained automatic- ally on inheriting one of these bundles, but they cannot be used without the knowl- edge of the legends and songs that go with them, and their power cannot be fully realized unless the heir apparent confirms his ownership by a visionary conviction. In other words, a powerful medicine bundle in the hands of a man who persistently failed in hunting or war would be eonsidered as ownership which had not been con- firmed by a personal vision of power. Concerning the Cherokee medicine man, Mooney and Olbrechts say: Nobody knows so much about fish traps and the way to build them and the wood to be used by preference; none knows more about the best periods for hunting different kinds of game, or all the artifices used to decoy them; nor can anybody make rattles, or wooden masks, or feather wands better than they can.... To have an adequate idea of the social status of the Medicine Man we should bear in mind that in his person we find cumulated such professions and pursuits which in our society would correspond to those of the clergy, the educators, the philosophers and the historians, the members of the medical profession in the widest sense; and finally, to a certain degree, even to those of politicians and of the press.217 Skinner, 1911, p. 62. 215 Lowie, 1922a, p. 334. 212 Fortune, pp. 46, 47, 55. 216 Skinner, 1913a, p. 92. 21' Ibid., pp. 45, 46. 217Mooney and Olbrechts, pp. 89, 92. 214 Whitman, pp. 101-102. 148 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. The same authors also state that a candidate for shamanism must approach a medicine man well-versed in the lore of the profession and ask to be taught. Success in obtaining a teacher is the determining factor, and apparently the consent of the teacher depends not only upon the publicly known reputation of the would-be student but also upon the willingness of the older man to establish a rival in busi- ness. There is always a question, apparently, whether the fee obtained for teaching will be ample compensation for the subsequent competition. Established medicine men constantly increase their knowledge by exchanging secrets on a barter basis. A neophyte may also extend his-education by purchasing knowledge from several medicine men. While being taqught he frequently moves his residence to that of the doctor. Instruction is given only at night. The teacher is careful to give less important information first in order to avoid misuse by an insufficiently mature or responsible pupil. The very last formulae taught are those which bring disease, ill luck, or death. It is explained that-a callow student might be tempted to use these powers to avenge an insult; whereas an older man never uses them until he has been insulted at least three times.1 In California such detailed information on the training of the shaman which goes beyond reiterating some version of the classical tradition is largely confined to shamans associated with societies. The character of such shamans is more accurately described as that of shaman-priest. The Kuksu cult, for example, followed by all or most of the members of eight stocks, the Yuki, Pomo, Wintun, Maidu, Miwok, Costanoan, Esselen, and Salinan, as well as by Athabascans and Yokuts, was headed by leaders who were not only priests and shamans but also often chiefs as well. Some Patwin, it is said, passed through twelve successive degrees in the cult, each preceded by instruction and payment, and leading to knowledge of a new "saltu" or spirit. Because of the danger of using incorrect knowledge, men frequently dis- trusted instruction which did not come from a near kinsman, thus the knowledge tended to pass most often from father to son."" Of shamanism generally in California, Kroeber adds: Frequently in Central and Northwestern California there is some more or less public ceremony at which a new shaman is, so to speak, initiated before he practices his powers. The body of initiated shamans do not form a definite society or association. The ceremony is rather an occasion that marks the first public appearance of the novice, in which he receives for his own good, and presumably for that of the community also, the assistance of the more experienced persons of his profession. Commonly it is thought that the novice cannot receive and exercise the full use of his powers without this assistance.... The efforts of the older shamans are directed toward giving the initiate a firm and permanent control of the spirits which have only half attached themselves to him.220 As has already been pointed out in another context, some shamans in California placed little confidence in supernatural power per se, but built their reputation on knowledge acquired from other men. Of the Maidu it is said: The learning of those medicines was the most important part of a shaman's training, and it was only in the rigorous course of training and the learning of "medicines" which had supernatural effeet that the ordinary shaman differed from the person who might have a knowledge of herbs for curing ordinary ailments.221 Even where power is traced to the supernatural acquisition of "pains" through dreaming, more or less in harmony with the classical tradition, as in northwestern California, "the instruction of older shamans seems to be regarded as an essential feature, culminating in what is usually known as the 'doctors' dance."' Occasion- 218 Ibid., pp. 100-103. 2n Beals, p. 385. 2K1 Kroeber, 1925, pp. 371-383. 2K Kroeber, 1925, p. 852. 220 Idem, 1907c, P. 330. Pettitt: Primitive Education in North America 149 ally two closely related peoples will differ widely in their acceptance of the classical tradition. Kroeber found that the River Patwin shamans "became such through instruction by an older relative. . . not from a vision." The Hill Patwin, however, said nothing about instruction but alluded to knowledge gained through dreams inspired by spirits.' Concerning the Northern Maidu, Dixon quotes the classical tradition that anyone who has a fainting spell and a vision and spits blood can become a shaman. But then he adds later: "There seems to be in this region considerable instruction of the younger shamans by the older ones.""24 Furthermore, the leaders of the secret society were usually shamans. The retiring shaman questioned his successor publicly on duties and knowledge. If he was lacking in knowledge, he had to accept further instruction. He had to know some astronomy, know where the best acorns were at each season, and when to collect them. He had to know each oak tree and to whom it belonged. He was expected to know the smoke signals of all surrounding tribes, and to be an authority on bird and animal cries. He was also required to know all myths and legends, and to lecture his fellows on this knowledge. At the same time he brought rain when needed and treated sickness.' A shaman was usually the descendant of another shaman, and did not begin to practice until the older prac- titioner died, when it was felt that with some effort he could capture the homeless spirits. The inheritance of. shaman power is sometimes accounted for as inheritance of psychic peculiarity. It is, however, difficult to conceive of a psychic peculiarity being sex-linked and most often descending to a single sister's son. Rather, it is more understandable to account for inheritance as acquisition of knowledge through observation and instruction within the extended family group. Steward noted the tendency of shamanism to run in families among the Paiute but states that it was not a matter of inheritance. "Powers came unsought-in psychological terms, they resulted from a culture pattern engendering wishful thinking plus expectancy of powers."' The Western Yavapai believed that a youth discovered he was to be a shaman by having animals talk to him, but added that he learned just as at school.' Again, shamanism tended to run in families. Similarly, among the Cocopa, a de- cendant of a shaman was most likely to get the dreams conferring shamanistic power; but he seldom practiced until the older shaman was retired or dead.' Many additional examples of the fragmentary references to the manner in which shamanistic powers and knowledge were acquired could be cited. Those given, how- ever, indicate the frequency with which "instruction" is mentioned, at least in pass- ing. The wide acceptance of the classical tradition by shamans themselves and by primitives generally not only minimizes the importance attached to instruction but makes it exceedingly difficult for information to be obtained from informants. Enough has been said, nevertheless, to indicate at least the fallacy of the classical tradition and to sketch the broad outlines of the facts concealed by it. Later field workers may, perhaps, be able to find confirmation for the general conclusions here reached. Summary There is no clear-cut method of classifying many extramundane intercessors as either priests or shamans. In varying degree most practitioners in North America function as both. But there is a difference in the knowledge used and the purpose m Idem, 1932, pp. 285 ff. t2 Steward, 1933, pp. 308, 311. 224 R. B. Dixon, pp. 267, 268. 2n Gifford, 1936, p. 310. 5 Ibid., pp. 328-331. 228 Idem, 1933, pp. 306 if. 150 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. for which it is used. The knowledge of the shaman is surrounded by a tradition of direct supernatural origin and is used chiefly for the benefit of individuals. The knowledge of the priest is a collectively owned body of sacerdotal information used for the benefit of the whole social group. The training of the priest is a process of memorization under special instruction or through apprenticeship. The training of the shaman is clouded by involvement with supernatural traditions. Even when individuals function as both shaman and priest, the two bodies of knowledge tend to remain separate. An inquiry is made into the reality of the classical tradition of supernatural origin of shaman powers, particularly of the tradition that shamans are marked by psychic disturbances in childhood and that they tend to be genetically abnormal. It is pointed out that the incidence of the epileptoid syndrome among American Indians is at least no higher and is probably lower than among whites, and that there appear to have been a greater number of shamans than epileptoids. The epileptoid syndrome in chronic cases is associated with feeble-mindedness or mental deterioration, whereas evidence for the shaman indicates above-average intelligence increasing in effectiveness to a point considerably past maturity. As a possible explanation of the classical tradition of abnormal psychological backgrounds for shamans, evidence shows that in the northern areas of repressive climate and re- stricted diet, psychic disturbances were common in the entire population, and were considered supernatural in origin. The theory is advanced that the shaman, re- putedly blessed by the supernaturals, would naturally, in retrospect, claim to have had outstanding psychic experiences as a child. A similar theory is advanced con- cerning the vision experiences claimed by shamans: the first vision experience is always ascribed to some period considerably antedating the beginning of shaman- istic practice; almost invariably shamans do not begin to practice until the maturity of life; the fabulous nature of these earlier visions is proved by the fact that in some instances they are supposed to have occurred before birth; and the procedure of the shaman in beginning his career is still that of a person not sure he has power rather than of one inspired by infallibility. It is suggested that many individuals are encouraged to enter the profession, or independently try to enter it, because of its prestige and economic advantages, but fail to do so. The failure is ascribed to inherent lack of talents, as much as to any lack of psychic sensitivity. Examples are cited of training for psychic sensitivity. Other examples of training indicate the real preparation of the shaman, which is concealed by the widespread classical tradition of their supernaturally obtained powers. Many shamans may be quite sincere and even accurate in tracing their first intimation of supernatural power to a psychic disturbance, but others have similar disturbances without becoming shamans. The decision is forced by other criteria: the will to study, and the ability to perform successfully. Pettitt: Primitive Education in North America 151 X. THE STORYTELLING ART THERE IS ALMOST unanimous agreement among writers on primitive education con- cerning the importance of storytelling as a pedagogical device. This section presents supplementary evidence from North American Indian cultures concerning the applications of storytelling to the educational process and the possible stimulus provided by these applications to the development of oral literature, its themes, and its style. Statements have been made that myths and legends were not told to children, or that certain of these stories were usually told only to adults. For the most part, however, children and young people appear to have been important in the story- teller's audience, and in many instances he directed a considerable share of his effort to them. Ray is one of the few authors to mention that myths and legends were not told directly to children. He says, for the Sanpoil and Nespelem of Washington: "They learned at such times, too, the lore of their fathers. The myths and legends were not customarily told to the children, but were recited in their presence."' Another comment of this type is made by Barbeau for the Huron and Wyandot. After stating that great care was taken to teach myths and legends to the children, he says: "It appears that on such occasions children were not always welcome, and that they were sent to bed with the remark that 'for little folks like them, it was not good to listen to these stories.' "" This remark is clarified, however, by a footnote: "Repeating this statement on two occasions, Henry Stand was apparently repress- ing laughter, as if he did not care to say what the stories were about." We may gather that these stories fell into the category of "erotica." Mead reports, for an area outside North America, that among Manus of the Admiralty Islands legends were not considered to be for children at all, but were for old people. She implies that the Manus children did not like imaginative stories and cites this fact as casting doubt on a story appetite as an inherent attribute of children.! Later, however, without attempting to harmonize the two statements she implies that children did know folklore, by stating that they regarded the animals in myths and legends as men, because men were frequently named after animals.' To counterbalance this evidence of, at least, a selective process in the stories told to children, there are scores of reports, representing all cultural areas, to show that much energy was expended by the elders in general, or by specifically designated elders, to inculcate in the young a knowledge and appreciation of the traditional oral literature of the tribe. Malinowski points out that it is a function of myths to substantiate belief, enhance moral precepts, give validity to faith, and give weight to all that has to be believed, obeyed, or accepted, by referring authority to a Golden Age.' A Shasta informant states emphatically that stories were told primarily for the children, and not to entertain adults, because the myths and legends gave the elders a ready means of indicating to a child why he must behave in one way and not in another. The stories were told only in winter, but allusions to them were made at any time in encouraging or discouraging the activities of children.! John Hunter, who lived for years among the Plains Indians, says: "The rest of the Indian's educa- tion, apart from what is acquired by experience, is obtained from the discourses of 1 Ray, 1932, p. 133. 2Barbeau, p. 5. 8 Mead, 1930, p. 126. '.Ibid., p. 361. 5Malinowski, pp. 87-94. Holt, MS. 152 University of California Pub lications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. the aged warriors. The elderly women, also, frequently perform these offices, more particularly as they relate to narratives and traditions, of which they are by the consent of custom the unerring and sacred depositaries."7 Among the Menomini a whole winter would sometimes be given over to one series of legends and myths, told in sections, one a night, to the assembled people. It is implied that the youth of the village were present by the added statement: Some myths, of course, were too sacred for publie narration except on ceremonial occasions, and these were bought in private from the older men by the youths, segment by segment. Thus a young man would appear some evening at the lodge of one of the elders, heap up a pile of goods on the floor and then, with a preliminary offering of tobacco, would request the elder to tell him such a myth. Asked in this ceremonial manner, the older man might not refuse for fear of angering the gods. On the other hand, without the, customary present, it was equally offensive to mention the great powers.8 Elsewhere, it is said of Menomini folklore: The part that folklore has played-in influencing Menomini social life and vice versa, can scarcely be overestimated. Even today folklore forms an important factor in determining many usages. In disputes over etiquette, for exampIe, these tales are resorted to for reference. . A significant point ... is that of the transmission of apparently trivial stories, presumably for no other reason than that they contain practical information.... A few "true stories" are told for the purpose of inculcating the principles of honor,'virtue and bravery among the children. Many of these have a moral, either stated or implied, contrary to the popular idea of North American folklore.9 Curtis says of the Wichita: "Each culture legend conveys a teaching ... In fact, in a measure, the moral lessons taught overshadow consciousness of the Infinite."'0 Dorsey points out for the Caddo that there was an extended series of stories for children which presented in dramatic fashion just what would happen to those who misbehaved in specific ways, and also what would happen to those who did right. A boy who whips his dog will have to go through Dog Land when he dies and will probably turn into a dog himself. A boy who is lazy and talks too much will be turned into a tree when he dies. If a boy does not listen to advice and remember it, he will be smashed between twolhuge rocks on the path to the Land of Spirits. If a boy is disobedient and a laggard, he will not be able to cross a river on the road to the Spirit Land. If a boy is greedy he will not be able to resist eating persimmons on the way to the Spirit Land and he will lose his way and his memory. If a boy Hunter, p. 267. In connection with Hunter's comment on the role of women as chief mytholo- gists and historians, it may be of interest to record that statements of a similar nature occur elsewhere. "Women have always seemed to be more under the domination of fixed and declared beliefs and have practiced with more fidelity the prevailing cult ... The survival of the more primi- tive forms of belief and custom, called folklore, is chiefly among the unlettered women of a commiu- nity" (O. T. Mason, 1894, p. 242). Assiniboine women as well as men are well versed in traditional legends and tell them to the children (Denig, p. 521). "The winter was the time for story-telling [among the Chippewa] and many old women were experts in this art" (Densmore, p. 29). Among the Ojibwa: "I have often heard it stated that men are the only story-tellers ... but it is a fact that I found many old women equally eloquent and inventive" (Kohl, p. 86). When Spencer was captured as a boy by the Mohawk, it was an old woman who told him the lore of the tribe as well as family history (Quaife, pp. 120-121). An Iroquois war;ior in relating an origin legend says, "I long since learnt it from my mother, who had it from her mother, and so on backwards for a hundred generations" (Henry, pp. viii, ix). Among the Eskimo, it is the grandmother's business to teach legends (Rasmussen, 1908, V. 159),. The Ungava Eskimo men related their adventures of the day, but the old women were the ones who dragged from memory the history of their people (Tur- ner, pp. 260-261). Among the Shasta in California, "there was usually a certain old woman in the village who told stories and the children gathered at her house every evening" (Holt, MS.). Among the Apache, Geronimo states that it was his mother who taught him the legends of his people (Barrett, p. 18). The only direct statement which I noted that women did not know many myths and legends applied to the Paiate (Lowie, 1924, p. 311). 8 Skinner, 1913a, p. 5. 9 Skinner and Satterlee, pp. 226, 232, 235. 20 Curtis, 1907-1930, 19:47. Pettitt: Primitive Education in North America 153 does not finish tasks given to him he will spend infinity working himself to skin and bones, dying, being born again, working himself to skin and bones, and so on.' According to Benedict there is no clear classification of esoteric folklore among the Zufni. All stories are told at the family fireside by any layman. The stories are never the same, though they deal with similar episodes. But all expressions of polite- ness, of etiquette, and proper behavior, are repeated over and over again whenever the story gives opportunity. "In most mythologies the picture of cultural life that can be abstracted from the tales, as in the studies of the Tsimshian, Kwakiutl, and Crow, is a comparatively adequate description of most phases of social life, but in Zufni there is in addition a loving reiteration of detail that is over and above this faithful rendition."' A Zunli narrator is almost always free to incorporate his special knowledge into any tale he is telling.'8 Elsewhere, it is reported that stories exercise a profound influence on children of the Pueblo. The reasons for all rules are given in dramatic story form." A Walapai father told traditional stories to his son when he grew old enough to hunt. "On such a trip a boy would learn more than hunting, for it was about the campfire at night that he heard from his father the old myths and tales, knowledge about the stars, and the like.""1 The Apache girl is taught by stories. "She is over- whelmed with tales of what has happened to those who disobeyed this injunction in the past."'" By footnotes to various folk tales he collected on the Northwest Coast, Swanton indicates the use of myths and legends in training children. For example: "When older people were giving their children advice they would bring up this part of the story and tell them not to be greedy and selfish, but honest. They would say they did not want him to be like Raven, who ate up all his playmate's fat."'7 Nichols was so struck by Swanton's examples that he used Tlingit myths as one of his major sources in discussing moral education among the North American Indians.'8 Among the Thompson, myths and legends were interspersed with lectures admon- ishing the audience, especially the young, on tribal virtues, namely: purity, clean- liness, honesty, truthfulness, bravery, friendliness, hospitality, energy, boldness, virtue, liberality, kindness, diligence, independence, modesty, affability, sociable- ness, charity, a proper respect for the supernatural, gratitude, initiative on the warpath, honor, pride in seeking revenge from enemies, industry, and so forth.'9 The Carriers used folk tales as one of the principal means of conveying religious and social knowledge.' Elsewhere, the same author says of the Carrier: On quiet winter evenings, when the people had gathered inside their big, plank houses, dimly lighted by one or two small fires, an old man seated in a corner would narrate some tradition or folk-tale of the distant past, and point the moral of the story with reference to the conduct of the children during the preceding hours. The education of children in other parts of Canada followed along the same general lines, but was not always organized into so definite a system.2' " G. A. Dorsey, pp. 226-228. 12 Benedict, 1935, chaps. 30, 31. "I Ibid., chap. 32. "Spencer, p. 79. Kniff en et al., p. 124. 1 Opler, 1935, p. 211. 1 Swanton, 1909a, pp. 19, 92, 93, 98, 99, 106-108, 114, 116, 117. 18 Nichols, 1930. See esp. p. 11: "The moral ideas concerning high-caste and low-caste, honesty, kindness, generosity, work, bravery, conjugal affection, respectful language and conduct, con- duct of girls, social welfare, and the spirit world would appear repeatedly in the literature of the Indians. With many of these we have also the narrator's comment as to how each episode was used to teach certain ideas to the young." '19 Teit, 1900, p. 367. 20 Jenness, 1928, p. 23. 21 Idem, 1932, p. 152. 154 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. On the other side of Canada, among the Naskapi, it is reported: During the long winter nights or during the periods of eold or inclement weather in which Indians may not venture out, they sit around the fire and- relate stories intended for the instruction as well as entertainment of the younger people. The older men have a great stock of these stories, and many of the women are noted for their ability in entertaining the children, who sit, with staring eyes and open mouths, in the arms of their parents or elders.um Farther north, among the Eskimo, Rasmussen states that the legends are known to all, it being the responsibility of the grandmothers to see that they are taught to the children. Many horror stories are also told to illustrate what happens to those who transgress the traditional rules.' These quotations, chosen from accounts of Indians in the various culture areas, are numerous enough to indicate that folklore enters into the educational program to a great extent, and that it does so in two prineipal ways. The folklore is literature, and is transmitted for its own value, and at the same time, is utilized as an authority for cultural beliefs and practices which are taught in other ways. One of the pur- poses of this study is to indicate how the various methods of transmitting a culture to successive generations have influenced the content of the culture. This is espe- cially true in the transmission of folklore. Several of the notes already cited indi- cate this directly or by implication. It is probable that mythology and legendary lore reflect the needs of the youthful auditor quite as much as those of adults since children form a large part of the storyteller's audience, and curiosity about nature and the cosmos is a trait of the young more than of adults. Moreover, the develop- ment of the child was a matter of universal concern. So far as could be discovered, however, this probability has not been specifically covered in discussions of the origin and development of oral literature among primitives. Unquestionably many factors are involved in the development of an oral litera- ture as extensive and complex as that found in the cultures of many American Indian tribes. But recalling Mead's statement that Manus children do not confirm a love for stories as an innate human trait, it would seem that the educational value of these stories has been a strong factor in promoting their use for children and youths and in developing adult appreciation of them. It has been aptly said that an appreciation for music is acquired by most people in the same way as is a suntan- through constant exposure. The same undoubtedly holds true with most people for other forms of art. The pleasure of the adult American Indian in storytelling is recognized in all areas. The taste was acquired, apparently, through listening to stories as a child or adolescent. Almost all bodies of oral literature in North America are characterized by a greater or lesser explanatory content. That is, episodes in myths and legends are explicitly or by inference used to explain why things exist in their known form. These etiologic elements range all the way from an explanation of the cosmos, in creation myths, to an explanation of the length of animals' tails and of the per- formance of ceremonial acts. Boas believes that the explanatory elements are not a result of philosophic cogitation primarily, but are merely finishing touches added to previously existing stories.' A similar conclusion is reached by Waterman: "From the places they [the explanatory elements] occupy in a given tale, and the manner of their appearance, they seem to be chance features, put in for good measure, or for other reasonss, perhaps, which are not concerned directly with the plot."2' 22 Turner, p. 327. 28 Rasmussen, 1908, pp. 128, 159. a'sBoas, 1896, p. 5; 1914, pp. 402 ff. 25 Waterman, 1914, pp. 27 if. Pettitt: Primitive Education in North America 155 Waterman also holds that for adults, the satisfaction derived from stories is more emotional than intellectual, the explanatory element being of minor importance.' This naturally leads us to ask why the storyteller bothers to use his artistic skill in adding explanatory elements? One reason here proposed is that a good part of the audience is normally drafted from the juvenile population, and the storyteller, being aware of this audience, puts in a tag now and then, referring to things that the children are normally curious about, to hold their attention, keep them awake, and impress them with the practical importance of the tribal myths and legends. We may also hazard a guess that the adult audience got a vicarious enjoyment out of the explanatory elements through realizing that they might be effective in hold- ing the interest of the children and in stimulating them to absorb the traditional lore. In using the term "realizing" a point is being stretched, however, for the process was probably more subconscious than conscious. Quite probably there are other factors involved in the widespread use of explana- tory elements. The individual storyteller may use them, and probably often did, merely because it was standard practice and style to do so; it gave the story a pleas- ing cadence, or an additional aesthetic value. But even then the underlying problem of training youth probably had its influence; for it is difficult to understand the adoption of etiologic elements as a type of literary "ornament" over such wide areas when the adult audience confessedly was not particularly interested in their etio- logic character. In his study of Tsimshian mythology, Boas expressed the opinion that in all likelihood many of the tales have changed as the culture of the people using them has broken down, and that some explanatory elements which would not have been felt necessary in older times are now added in the version told to the young of recent generations, as well as to white people.' This confirms my idea that the youths in the audience are often responsible for the direction given to the artistic striving of the storyteller, particularly with respect to the intellectual content of the tales. It is not plausible that the curiosity of adults should still be sufficiently alive about the various aspects of nature around them to demand explanations. Like adults every- where, they have attitudes set for them before having advanced far into maturity. Yet we know that explanatory elements of widely different kinds are added to old episodes from area to area, and it seems justifiable to ascribe the incentive for this to the young people in the audience. That the audience does influence the tale, as Boas intimates, is confirmed by Bartlett in his study of the psychology of primitive culture. He says: Not only does the relation of the story-teller to his group affect the form of the folk-tale; not only does it frequently determine directly particular details of the material dealt with 7 not only does it influence the general type of social relationship that will be most often depicted among a given people; but it may, together with the group difference tendencies, and the individual in- stincts, settle the dominant themes of the tales, and how these themes are developed.28 I conclude that in the explanatory element of the folk tale and myth is found a possible influence of primitive education problems on the form of the oral literature. That this influence may be considerable is attested by Waterman, who counted 1,053 explanatory elements dealing with earthly matters, and 138 dealing with celestial or cosmic matters in twenty-six collections of folklore from American Indian tribes. He points out that in addition there are many explanatory features which are not explicitly stated in the versions collected by ethnologists, but which are known to the natives.' as Ibid., p. 21. Bartlett, pp. 90-91. tY Boas, 1909, p. 393. Waterman, 1914, pp. 8-12. 156 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. There is other evidence, however, which seems to imply that the educational problem and the need of meeting the demands, of young audiences have influenced the oral literature even more fundamentally. This evidence is derived from merely a casual analysis of any body of American Indian folklore. Psychologically, the interest of an individual in a given story is to a considerable extent measured by the degree to which he can project himself into the situation depicted. That is, stories written for the entertainment of adults do not generally deal with the doings of children. Conversely, stories written for children tend to deal with children. Keeping this fact in mind, it is significant to note that a considerable proportion of the legends and myths in North America, even the most important of them, have as their leading characters young children or youths still in the process of winning their spurs. Lowie says: "The Grandchild Myth looms large in both Arapaho and Crow con- sciousness, as is attested by the number of recorded variants."'0 He adds that it is also found in various forms among the Hidatsa, Mandan, Arikara, Gros Ventre, Kiowa, Skidi, Dakota, Assiniboine, and Blackfoot. This grandchild is sometimes the offspring of a beautiful- Indian girl and the Sun God. In a collection of Gros Ventre myths and tales made by Kroeber, the longest tales are invariably those dealing with children who accomplished miraculous feats, or who showed outstand- ing character in meeting difficult situations.8' Among the Blackfoot, Old Man, the dominant elderly character in the myths, is not an exemplary model, because he is constantly getting into trouble through stupidity, but he does illustrate what happens to people who do not do right, and the laughter of the audience is a reflection of social ridicule. On the other hand, in the cosmical myths, called' Star Myths, where miraculous things happen and diffi- culties are overcome, the characters are all children.82 Among the Coeur d'Alene, where Reichard says the moralizing character of the tales is most noticeable, a popular opening for a mythical legend is, "A boy lived with his grandmother," and the characters of tales tend to assume a family organization, though a few deal with fear-monsters.' In the folklore of the Assiniboine, as collected by Lowie, eleven miscellaneous tales deal with the accomplishments of poor orphan boys who did not have a chance. The rest of the tales in this classification, with few exceptions, have boys or girls as leading characters or in the supporting cast.' Among the Ojibwa, legendary vision quests by youths of other days are common.' Among the Shoshone, there are a number of mythological gigantic ogres and monsters in the tales, and usually they are overcome by the efforts of twin boys or youths. Many Shoshone bands have a mythical character of miraculous powers called Nii'niimbi, usually described as an Old Man, but among the Wind River group he is a little boy of remarkable strength." In the Southwest, the mythology of the Pueblo of Santo Domingo presents ad- venturous young people as myth characters in a number of instances.87 At Zuni, Benedict finds that the deserted child is a strong theme in the folklore. "The plots are all concerned with the supernatural assistance and human success of the poor child, and often the whole plot is directed toward the triumph of the abandoned "O'Lowie, 1918, pp. 11-13. 8I Kroeber, 1907. See, for example, tales 19-23, 26-27, 28, etc. "2 Wissler and Duval, pp. 18-39. 3 Reichard, 1930, p. 250. " Lowie, 1909b, pp. 100 if. "5Jenness, 1935, P. 55. m Lowie, 1909a, p. 234. 87White, 1935, p. 146. Pettitt: Primitive Education in North America 157 child over the mother or the parents." The point does not seem to be a warning to parents against deserting children-they never do-but is rather a glorification of what boys and girls can do if they have the approval of the supernaturals.' Exami- nation of the myths of Zu-ni indicates also that children are popular characters in other than desertion stories. Frequent characters are a poor boy living with his grandmother, or the youngest daughter or son of a priest, or two brothers.' Bunzel adds that the origin story of the Koko gods is a story of children, and that the myth explaining why Katcinas always wear feathers is an adventure story of a boy who was lost.' At Isleta a large number of myths and legends deal with children, and in the telling of them the favorite closing is: "Thus far we are going to see who remem- bers tomorrow night."' The same large percentage of children's adventures appears in the myths of Sia.' An excellent example of Apache legends indicating the way in which dramatic stories are used to promote valorous behavior is offered by Opler in the minor epic "Dirty Boy."'8 Wherever large collections of myths and legends have been made this same tend- ency to cast children in important roles relating to the origin and development of the tribe, or with the creation of cosmological phenomena, is apparent. Boas says of the Eskimo on the northern edge of the continent: "Tales of poor maltreated children who later on become very powerful are a frequent and apparently a favorite subject of story-tellers."' Elsewhere it is said that the "orphan boy" is the hero par excellence of the Eskimo myth.' Other citations might be given, but as this point is verifiable in many if not all adequate collections of mythology, it is not necessary to give further space to it. The frequent occurrence of child heroes or juvenile leads in myths and legends of American Indian tribes strongly indicates that the problem of holding the inter- est of children and of inculcating traditional beliefs in the minds of the immature, has powerfully influenced the development of myth characterization, just as it has the factual content and style. In the sections on personal names and the vision quest, reference has been made to the custom of relating stories concerning family ancestors as a means of stimu- lating the self-development of the boy or girl. The frequent incidence of field reports from many areas in which statements to this effect appear, seems to indicate that extant collections of myths and folk tales of the Indians are not in any true sense representative of the entire body of oral literature of any of the cultures involved. Such evidence as is available seems to affirm that for every tribal or group folk tale and myth that might be told during the year, there were a great number of lesser stories, sacred to particular families, or merely anecdotal, concerned with individual biography. Tribal myths and legends were almost universally told only in the winter months. The only group noted in this survey where myths and legends were deliberately told in the summer was the Southeastern Yavapai.' It was be- lieved by these people that to tell stories in winter would cause a storm. Conse- quently, to speak of the oral literature of the Indians solely in terms of myths and legends is akin to speaking of English literature in terms of the King James version of the Bible, Chaucer, and Shakespeare. During many months of the year the sacred 8Benedict, 1935, Vol. 1, chap. 17. SIbid., Vol. 2. 40 Bunzel, 1929-1930, pp. 844, 864. 41 Parsons, 1929-1930, p. 359. " Stevenson, 1889-1890, pp. 39-66. " Opler, 1938. " Boas, 1904, p. 10. M Gilbertson, p. 43. 46 Gifford, 1932, p. 242. 158 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. myths and legends could be no more than alluded to as references. And even in the winter months there were, apparently, many stories told which were too individual- istic or ephemeral to be included in folklore collections. Rasmussen alludes to the great number of personal anecdotes of great hunters and adventurers which he listened to around Eskimo oil lamps.'7 Bilby implies that the old legends and myths were told after younger hunters and adventurers of the Arctic wastes had done their best to amaze the audience.' In the Great Bear Lake area, Osgood found that "the commonest type of story is scarcely describable as a myth, but rather as a more or less exaggerated narrative of events, many of which have a historical basis."'9 He had an opportunity to follow the history of one such story, apparently made up an the spur of the moment, but so fantastic that it caught on and was soon circulating throughout the whole area. In speaking of the Tanaino, the same author says: Myths of the actions and adventures of people and animals living long ago are popular... Autobiographical accounts of childhood experiences of old men they like very much as they serve to explain the way of meeting difficulties in the woods and on the sea. Stories of animals, and their habits, never fail to create interest. Also story-tellers beguile their time with historical accounts and narratives with a moral ... Some men are said to be able to tell a different story every night for six months.50 On the Northwest Coast, the Nootka, it is said, told a multitude of stories about young men of past generations who had gone forth on vision quests and on winter evenings there was an interminable list of adventure stories, legends, and myths.' Among the Lummi: At every available opportunity, the old people of the village relate the accomplishments of the heroes of the past in the presence of the children with the intention of educating them in tribal traditions and customs ... bystanders participate by interjecting enthusiastic comments to make the exploits of the ancestors appear more vivid and to impress the children with the honor and the esteem with which great men are regarded.52 Among the Ojibwa, aside from such myths and legends as might be told, a father regaled the boys with long tales of the adventures of famous men, and the ambition of boys was aroused by the applause with which the women and girls greeted each accomplishment.'9 Of the Assiniboine it is said: The traditions related to the young in their lodges are usually extravagant fables and exploits of former warriors, exaggerated, of course, to make them interesting . . . The grandmothers are also well versed in this and night after night the children learn a great deal ... The lives and actions of former warriors and other events of real life form a portion of the instruction thus conveyed." The Menomini had a large number of summer stories, spoken of as "true stories," which related the personal adventures of men on the warpath, in vision quests, and in dreams. Dreams were particularly regarded as true stories.' The true stories of the Menomini form the great mass of the oral literature, ranging from simple narratives of daily life to supernatural experiences, told to arouse laughter, to excite, or to convey facts or explanations of phenomena.' Among the Iroquois, of "Rasmussen, 1908, pp. 24 ff. 8 Bilby, p. 146. " Osgood, 1933, pp. 87, 89. 60 Idem, 1937, p. 123. l Sproat, pp. 50-51, 174. 5 Stern, p. 17. TMLandes, 1938, p. 11. "Denig, p. 521. 6 Skinner, 1913a, p. 5. 6 Skinner and Satterlee, p. 234. Pettitt: Primitive Education in North America 159 course, much true or only slightly legendary history was told, particularly on the occasion of the raising of a sachem. Special officers recited the history, using strings of wampum as mnemonic devices.' In some areas, the Southeast particularly, the teaching of the important legends and myths was restricted to specific children selected because of the interest that they showed, and their retentive memories.' In the Southwest and elsewhere, there were special tales for children particularly.'9 At Zufni the myth and legend episodes are used merely as the springboards from which the narrator leaps into the story he wants to tell in, order to convey some bit of knowledge. Collections of myths from this area are merely collections of episodes used in stories rather than the stories themselves.' On the Plains, Dorsey states that Siouan legends varied from family to family and were apparently told as a family affair.6' It is also stated of the Sioux that the ambitions of boys are aroused by listening "to the tales of the old men, as they recall the stirring scenes of their youth, or sing their death-songs, which form only a boast- ing recapitulation of their daring and bravery."" Lowie states that the tales told by the old men of vision quests and the success achieved as a result of them, were probably responsible for encouraging boys to seek a guardian spirit with so little urging." The Comanche are reputed to have had few or no culture tales, but many stories of hunting and war, according to Curtis." Grinnell supplements his remarks on the myths and legends of the Cheyenne with the following: Old men disussed the happenings of past years, their war journeys, their meetings with other tribes, visits they had received from white people, or mysterious events that had taken place within their knowledge. Sometimes, near groups of these old men might be seen two or three growing boys, seated at a little distance behind them, eagerly drinking in the talk that Ilowed from the lips of these wise elders.e" This type of biographical, autobiographical, historical, or anecdotal story, deal- ing with individuals or families rather than with clans or tribes or natural or super- natural matters of general concern, is well known to the field worker. Many such stories are recorded in case histories, or biographies. But since little is said in the ordinary collection of myths and folk tales concerning the oral literature of a genre of an ephemeral nature from which the more formalized and dignified stories are sifted, it is necessary to draw attention to them specifically. We cannot speak of the part played by folklore in primitive education unless the term "folklore" is used to mean the entire range of "oral literature." Important as were the myths and folk tales, as a body of literature, and as a source of quotations and allusions in everyday training and discipline, the practical stimulus to individual achievement probably was provided in equal measure by autobiographies, biographies, and dramatized historical episodes. The stories that a boy heard concerning the name that he bore, and new ones that he might win; the stories of how other specific individuals had achieved success in vision quests; of how men had built their reputations in the chase or on the warpath; of how girls won and held husbands or built respected reputations-few of these are sufficiently generalized to be dignified as folk tales or myths-yet they provide much of the background for the lives of primitive children. " Morgan, p. 113; also see p. 161. 58Swanton, 1911, pp. 88-89; also, Alford, p. 43. " John P. Harrington, 1925-1926. w Benedict, 1935, Vol. 1, chap. 32. 61J. 0. Dorsey, p. 420. "Larimer, pp. 195-196. "Curtis, 1907-1930, 19:229. eLowie, 1922a, p. 332. " Grinnell, 1923, p. 66. 160 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. Summary The importance of myths and folk tales as a body of knowledge to be transmitted to primitive children and as a means of inculcating attitudes in harmony with cul- tural patterns has been generally accepted if not taken for granted by virtually all writers on primitive education. It is pointed out, however, that myths and folk tales cannot be tacitly accepted as a completely mature literature aimed specifically at the entertainment or emo- tional exaltation of adults. Rather, it seems more justifiable to conclude that the requirements of the juvenile mind and the juvenile audience have had an important influence on the nature of these myths and folk tales, in content and style, through the unconscious efforts of the raconteur to hold the attention of an audience often composed in large part of juveniles, and at the same time, perhaps, to please the elders by telling interesting tales which are "good for" the child or the youth. The high incidence of explanatory or etiologic elements in myths and folk tales is perti- nent evidence, and attention is called particularly to the great number of myths and tales which cast children or immature young people in the role of principal characters. Finally, attention is called to the fact that ordinary collections of myths and folk tales are not truly representative of the whole of a primitive group's oral literature, and that genre tales not often dignified by separate publication, par- ticularly biographical and autobiographical stories, are of equal importance in primitive pedagogy. Pettitt: Primitive Education in North America 161 XI. GENERAL CONSIDERATIONS MANY OF THE TOPICS discussed may have received more space than their impor- tance in relation to the entire subject of primitive education really justifies. Some of the points made in this discussion may have been stressed more than the signifi- cance of the matter relative to the whole culture of primitive groups actually war- rants. But I feel that certain misapprehensions concerning primitive education and the generalizations upon which they are based have stood unchallenged for so long that a degree of overenthusiasm is necessary. The major conclusions of this study are the following: 1. Corporal punishment is rare among primitives not because of an innate kind- liness, but because it is antipathetic to the development of the type of individual personality set up as an ideal. 2. Aside from corporal punishment, there is no particular lack of discipline for children. Its apparent absence is often traceable to a failure to note that immediate relatives tend to refer discipline to outsiders, to the mother's brother or father's sister, to other individuals, to societies, to the social group and its effective coercive weapon, ridicule, and perhaps most important of all, to the supernaturals and their impersonators. 3. Contrary to popular opinion, spontaneous imitation is not the basic motive for the learning process in primitive children. The fundamental stimuli are ridicule, praise, and reward. 4. Personal names play an effective role as stimuli to learning and to accepted social behavior, through the use of trivial or ridiculous names for those who have not achieved, through prestige names as a reward for achievement, and through the social fiction of transferring personality and power with a name. 5. Economic activities are not slighted in favor of religious training in the primi- tive curriculum, but the application of praise and reward for economic achievement, through first-fruits rites, is one of the basic and probably oldest expressions of pedagogical concern. 6. The vision quest and the acquisition of guardian spirits are not psychic ex- periences of such complexity that they can be fully participated in only by abnormal individuals. They are expressions of a desire to achieve an inner conviction of social and economic competency and spiritual security. The vision quest has educational applications aside from those connoted by its religious aspects, which can be equated in some degree with practices in areas where the vision quest is more rarely found. 7. Myths and folk tales are not merely instruments of adult satisfaction and enter- tainment providing only content to the curriculum and used casually for educa- tional purposes. Rather, they show internal evidence, in their etiologic episodes, and in their utilization of juveniles as leading characters, of having been influenced in their development by educational requirements. Collections of myths and folk tales are not representative of the whole of primitive oral literature. Genre literature, particularly episodic biographies and autobiographies, are of as great if not greater importance in primitive education. Many other points have been made which may be regarded, at least, as suggestive, and they are allowed to stand without further comment. There are many ways in which primitive institutions serve educational functions aside from those mentioned in the preceding pages. For example, it was the custom among the natives on Shoalwater Bay, just north of the Columbia River, to marry young boys to older women, and then to place younig wives in their homes when the boys matured, in order that someone in each family would be experienced in home 162 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. economy and household science.' That this custom may have been fairly common is indicated by Morgan's report for the Iroquois. "In early times it was customary to unite a young warrior to a woman several years older on supposition he needed some- one experienced." At twenty-five a youth might be married to a woman of forty, per- haps a widow, and then at sixty he would probably be married to a girl of twenty.' Passing references to young girls being married to elderly men are fairly frequent. I would have liked to give more attention to the subject of initiations. One inter- esting sidelight on this subject is the occasional tendency for a boy's first trip on the warpath to assume the characteristics of a tribal or societal initiation. Opler says of first war parties for Apache boys: "The raiders must use scratchers, they are led by one who has special ceremonial knowledge to daub them with white clay, they must be careful where they look, in what position they sleep, and in what manner they eat." They also have to learn proper war ceremony, and a special "on-the-warpath language."' Curiously enough, a similar practice exists among the Algonkian Ojibwa. Tanner says that a boy's first three trips with a war party are marked by a number of ceremonial observances, sometimes painful. He must paint his face black, wear a cap or headdress, never precede the old warriors, never scratch his head or his body except with a stick, use special eating and drinking utensils, sleep always at the lowest end of camp, and never rest in the daytime.5 Confirming reports for both the Apache and the Ojibwa are found in Geronimo's life story,' and in Kohl.7 The scratching of body vermin is occasionally found prohibited, for example, among the Blackfoot,' where it is regarded as a type of ordeal through which youths must pass. This may have some bearing on the use of the scratching stick-hardly an effective weapon for removal of lice. The question of the relative intelligence of the Indian is one which naturally arises in discussing the effectiveness of Indian education. The confusion surround- ing that question is indicated by the fact that Eells recently found the Alaskan Eskimo were considerably less intelligent than whites;9 and Marshall, in the same year, reported that another group of Eskimo, not far away, rated higher than the average white child.10 The studies of Garth and Witty are pertinent to this question. Garth et al. concluded, after finding that the mental age of white children seemed to be about 14 per cent higher for the same chronological age: "Because of differ- ences in social status and temperament, we cannot conclude that our results are a true and final measure of the intelligence of Indian children."' Witty and Lehman state: For the present, it may be said, therefore, that (a) individual differences among the members of a given race are always much larger than the so-called "race differences," and that therefore (b) any sweeping statement of the intellectual status of the so-called inferior races would be premature. Until qualitatively and quantitatively different types of data are assembled these two propositions will stand. In all probability they will stand for some time to come.- The most reasonable conclusion to be drawn from these and other results and opinions is that differences of intelligence need not be considered as of any impor- 1 Swan, pp. 170-171. 2Morgan, p. 311. 'Spier, 1930, p. 45; Swanton, 1924-1925a, p. 371; Osgood, 1936, p. 143 and passim. 'Opler, 1938, pp. 11, 14. 5Tanner, p. 122. ' Barrett, pp. 187-188. 7Kohl, p. 344. 8Bufalo Child, p. 78. 9Eells, 1933, pp. 417-438. "Marshall, pp. 79-80. " Garth, Serafini, and Dutton, p. 389. See also, Garth, p. 137. 12 Witty and Lehman, 1930a, p. 405. Pettitt: Primitive Education in North America 163 tance in discussing primitive education in North America, or in comparing or con- trasting it with modern education. More than a third of a century ago Edgar L. Hewett said: To culture history we must go for the verification of a great body of educational theory; but an examination of a number of much-used text-books on pedagogy, produced in recent years, will hardly convince anthropologists that the data of anthropology are being eorrectly stated or correctly applied in pedagogy.u To a large extent this statement remains true today. Only a few years ago the anthro- pologist, E. Sapir, said: An excellent test of the fruitfulness of the study of culture in close conjunetion with a study of personality would be provided by studies in the field of child development. It is strange how little ethnology has concerned itself with the intimate genetic problem of the acquirement of culture by the child. In the current language of ethnology, culture dynamics seems to be almost entirely a matter of adult definition and adult transmission from generation to generation and from group to group. The humble child . . . is somehow left out of the account.' I agree with Dr. Sapir and entertain the hope that this study may not only be of service to the educator but may also indicate fruitful lines of inquiry which will allow the anthropologist to be of continuing service to those struggling with the problems of modern society. H Hewett, p. 575. Sapir, 1934, p. 413. 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INDEX Achomawi, 99 Comanche, 84, 159 Acoma, 20, 33, 67, 70 Confession, 103; over white wampum, 113 Age-graded societies, 32 Copperhead, 79 Algonkian(s), 39, 73, 92 Corporal punishment. See Punishment Amulet(s), 88, 90, 99-100, 103; ceremonial Costanoan, 148 bundles, 93 Cradleboard, 11-14; effect of, 12, 13 Ancestor(s), 67, 101; spirit of, 103 Cree, 9, 51, 72, 78, 97, 121, 129, 142, 147; James Ancestral names, 59, 72, 73, 74, 102; transfer Bay, 131 of, 68 Creek, 16, 43, 57, 64, 72, 114; Confederaey, 22 Apache, 7, 20, 56, 81 136, 141, 152, 153, 157, 162 Crow, 8, 20, 21, 23, 42, 44-45, 52, 55, 57, 63, 65, Arapaho, 21, 92, 156 67, 70, 82, 90, 92, 93, 96, 147, 153, 156 Arikara, 92, 156 Culture types, Apollonian, Dronysian, 100 Assiniboine, 43, 44, 49, 61, 63, 64, 121, 156, 158 Athabascans, 148; North-, 28 Dakota, 20, 54, 92, 156; Canadian, 96, 137 Avunculate, 17-18, 23-24, 52; amitate, 17, 18, 52 Delaware, 10, 31, 34, 91 Dieguefno, 49, 56, 80, 137, 141 Berdaches, 123 Discipline: by outsiders, 9, 14, 15-17, 24, 25, Birchbark scrolls, 39, 108, 110 161; by supernaturals, 10, 26-28, 39; by Blackfoot, 8, 20, 32, 42, 45, 51, 55, 61, 63, 67, masked disciplinarians, 51; The A'doshle, 71, 82, 92, 93, 96, 128, 135, 139, 140, 142, 156, 34; Bear Paw Spirit, 26, 29; Bogeymen, 16, 162 30, 35; Brush Men, 27; Lion, 29; Living Bleeding at mouth and nose, 130; criterion of solid face, 31; MisiPngwP, 31; "Old Man," shamanistic power, 123, 132, 136, 149 30; scarecrows, 35; spider, 27; Shuyuku and Bone houses, 115 Tsabiyu, 35; Water Monster, 27. See also, Bow and arrow(s), 33, 41,44, 75; target shoot- Owl ing with, 49 Disguise(s), 32, 39 Brother-sister relationship, 22-23, 24 Dogrib, 78 Dolls, 33, 41, 75 Caddo, 27, 114, 152 Dreams, 94, 96, 103, 139, 148, 149; Dreaming California, 6, 39, 62; Indians, 37, 123 for power, 91 Cahuilla, 65, 73, 80, 99 Drugs, 91, 95; Jimson weed, 39; emetics, 95 Cannibal(ism), 27-28, 30; secret societies, 131 Carrier(s), 20, 69, 131, 153 Epileptics, 124, 125 Cause and effect, Indian explanation of, 133 Epileptoid syndrome, 124-125; seizures, 125 Cherokee, 42, 72, 127, 139, 147 Eskimo, 6, 9, 10, 12, 13-14, 22, 23, 24, 31, 41, Cheyenne, 8, 12, 21, 43, 55, 63-64, 83, 159 43, 45, 49-50, 52, 57, 60, 76-77, 77-78, 84, 88, Chickasaw, 16, 21, 57, 65, 72, 82, 114, 122 89, 99-100, 113, 120, 127, 131, 138, 143, 144, Child (ren): motives for having, 7; number of, 145, 152, 154, 157, 158; Baffin Land, 76, 126; 8; indulgence of, 6, 8, 14; psychology, 14, Caribou, 52, 100, 138, 144; Central, 30, 77; 15; and supernatural, 9-11; as characters in Copper, 16, 27, 30, 76, 127, 129, 130, 143; of legends and myths, 156; practice of abor- Greenland, 68, 76; Iglulik, 52, 68, 77, 100, tion and infanticide, 7; attitude toward 105, 126; 127; of Labrador, 60, 77; Macken- twins, 90; desertion;of, 156; crying of, 29 zie, 10, 65, 68; Nunivak, 30, 57, .100; Un- Chinook, 128 gava, 77, 152 Chipewyan, 69 Ethics, 39, 109 Chitimacha, 21, 114 Extramundane intercessors, 105 ff. Choetaw, 21, 24, 42, 49, 61, 63, 65, 122 Clan(s): development of, 23, 73; character- Family, 6, 8, 9; reciprocal affection, 7, 9 ized, 73 Fasting, 39, 88, 90-91, 92, 95, 99, 100, 101, 114; Clowns, 32, 34; and discipline, 51 charcoal eaten when, 99 Cochiti, 36, 57, 102 Father's sister, 22, 24, 161 Cocopa, 9, 56, 134, 149 First-fruits ceremonies, 76, 84, 86, 161 Coeur d'Alene, 56, 121, 156 First-game ceremonies, 76, 84, 86 [179] 180 Index First war party, 48, 53, 54, 61, 63, 162 Kuksu cult, 32, 37, 148 Flathead, 6, 10, 16, 20, 27, 30, 43, 49, 55, 61, 80, Kutchin, 11, 20, 27, 43, 62, 65, 69, 78, 121, 139 97, 123, 142 Kutenai, 98 Folklore. See Myths and legends, Stories and Kwakiutl, 12, 36, 69, 153 storytelling Fox, 8, 9, 11, 12, 21, 42, 83 Laguna, 33, 42, 67 Learning, 45; age of, 53, 85; incentives to, 58, Games, 44, 45; adult stimulus to, 75; gambling 61; apprenticeship, 18; vocational, 40; En- during, 48 emy Way Chant, 116-117; Night Chant, 117 Ghost(s); 27, 29; ceremony, 32; initiation, 37, Lenape, 31, 32, 96 112 Lillooet, 62, 70 Great Lakes area, 39, 79 Lummi, 6, 11, 38, 56, 61, 69, 73, 98, 101, 140, Gros Ventre, 63, 70, 156 146, 158 Guardian spirit, 85, 88, 89, 90, 92, 94, 100, 161; Luisefio, 16, 27 concept of, 87, 102; quest for, 38, 67, 99; "Grrizzly Bear Spirit" for twins, 90. See also Maidu, 6, 62, 65, 123, 134, 136, 148; Hill, 32, Vision quest 99; Northern, 99; Southern, 134, 141; Yuba River, 137 Haida, 19, 43, 52, 65, 69, 136, 145 Mandan, 20, 44, 51, 52, 55, 58, 63, 140, 156 Hammocks, 12, 14 Mask(s), 29-34 passim, 38, 39, 102-103; dis- Hare, 69, 78, 113 ciplinary function of, 28, 31, 33, 51 Havasupai, 11, 41, 62, 81, 136, 141 Maternal uncle. See Mother's brother Hidatsa, 16, 20, 42, 51, 52, 63, 65, 82, 85, 90-91, Maturity, 66; criterion of, 53, 66, 84, 85, 86 156 Medicine: bag, 88; bundles, 147; societies, Hopi, 6, 11, 13, 16, 20, 24, 33, 34, 35, 42, 49, 65, 111, 112 81, 84, 102, 122 - Medicine Lodge, 39, 44, 108, 111. See also Hupa, 11 Midewiwin Huron, 26 Medicine men, 18, 54, 67, 115, 147. See also Hypnotic suggestibility, 130, 144 Shaman(s) Hysteria, 130-131 Menomini, 10, 26, 29, 55, 71, 82, 97, 110-111, 135, 137, 152, 158 Image, "eidetic," 95 Midewiwin, 39, 110, 121, 122; Grand Medicine Imitation, 40, 46, 161 Lodge, 146 Inheritance of occupations or property, 181 Miwok, 148 Initiation(s), 31-32, 35, 36, 37-38; ceremo- Mnemonic devices, 39, 108, 159 nies, 37, 59; age for, 86; death and resurree- Modoe, 123, 136 tion feature, 37; Katcina, 16 Mohave, 124, 137 Iroquois, 9, 10, 21, 44, 50, 51, 60, 64, 65, 71, 103, Mohawk, 82, 152 158, 162; False Face Society, 31; priests, Mother's brother, 16, 22, 145, 161; as teacher 113 and disciplinarian, 18, 24, 110 Isleta, 20, 34, 81, 84, 116, 157 Muskogee, 21, 81 Myths and legends, 34, 110, 151-161 passim; "Joking relationship," 51, 52 children in, 156, 157 Kateina(s), 33-36 passim, 42, 84, 102, 103; So- Names, 59-65 passim, 73, 99, 161; Busk titles, ciety, 33, 115 64. See also Ancestral names, Nicknames, Kansas, 12, 48 Prestige names, etc. Kato, 62, 123 Naskapi, 26, 154; Montagnais-, 16 Keres, 34 Natchez, 16, 49, 64, 114 Kickapoo, 21 Navaho, 20, 27, 29, 35, 42, 52, 59, 63, 65, 70, 81, Kiowa, 72, 156 117, 122, 136; ceremonies, 116 Klallam, 6, 43, 80, 98, 123, 140 Nespelem, 121, 134, 140, 151 Klamath, 62, 80, 98, 123 Nez Perc6, 73, 91, 97, 121, 135 Koko gods, 33-35, passim, 102, 157. See al8o Nicknames, 53, 56, 59, 61-62, 73, 74, 75, 101 Kateinas Nisenan, 70, 73, 134 Nisqually, 80 Index 181 Nootka, 20, 36, 49, 69, 145, 158 Puget Sound: region, 27; Indians, 6, 20, 46, North Algonkian(s), 28, 43, 71 61, 63, 69, 73, 98 North Carolina, Indians of, 82 Punishment: corporal, 6-9 passim, 16, 161; by Northern Plains, Indians of, 71 outsider, 9. See also Discipline Northwest, 49, 92, 93; Coast, 6, 26, 27, 30, 36, 38, 53, 84, 92, 102, 128 Quinault, 37, 43, 62, 67, 136, 140, 142 Obsidian shamans, 113, 123, 134 Rain makers, 140, 141 Oglala, 9, 54, 135; Dakota, 109; Sioux, 96, 99, Religious training, 25, 88-89, 92, 161; Hako 139 Society, 109 Ojibwa, 10, 20, 23, 26, 27, 29, 35, 39, 43, 45, 46, Reward, 161. See also Praise 49, 50-51, 61, 67, 71, 79, 85, 90, 91, 92, 97, Ridicule, 49, 50, 53, 74, 75, 86, 161; by women, 110, 121, 122, 129, 135, 139, 142, .146, 156, 51 158, 162; Parry Island, 28, 29, 121 Okanogan, 20, 56, 61, 128, 134 Salinan,.148 Omaha, 21, 55, 92, 96, 147 Salish(an), 12, 69, 91, 97, 98, 121, 146 Ordeals, 49, 88, 89; purpose of, 38, 89; sweat Salteaux, 28, 65; Northern, 97 baths, 117; Husquenawing rite, 39; Night San Juan Capistrano, 56, 80 Chant, 35; Toloache rite, 38, 39 Sand paintings, 117 Osage, 8, 12, 41, 48, 84 Sanpoil, 6, 9, 27, 30, 41, 56, 70, 79, 98, 121, 134, Oto, 8, 1.1, 21, 42, 55, 70, 83,93, 96, 147 140, 151 Owl: spirit, 26-27, 29; headdresses, 114 Santo Domingo, 36, 156 Sarsi, 71 Paiute, 19, 27, 41, 56, 65, 80, 85, 99, 124, 149, Satudene, 69 152; Owens Valley, 80, 133; Surprise Val- Sauk, 8, 83 ley, 81 Sedna ceremony, 30 Papago, 122, 136, 141 Sexual intercourse during lactation period, 7 Patwin, 19, 148, 149 Sham battle(s), 30, 44 Pawnee, 64, 92, 106, 109 Shaman(s), 30, 38, 46, 51, 61, 66, 69, 92, 115, Pennsylvania Indians, 82 120, 139, 142; abilities, 137, 144; classical Personality, 60, 65-66; transference of, 47, tradition for, 106, 119, 129; criteria for, 132, 60,66-67,72,103 146; intelligence of, 108, 121, 126, 127-128, Pictograhic scrolls. See Birchbark scrolls 143; and priests, 105, 106, 114; powers of, Pima, 16, 57, 81, 122 77, 134, 136, 139, 149; and abnormalities, Plains: area, 32, 39, 61, 102, 106, 128; Indians, 125, 142; training of, 114, 143, 146, 148, 149; 42, 54, 58, 82, 93, 151 techniques and functions, 106, 138; and vis- Plateau, 6, 121 ions, 99, 146; age of power acquisition, 133- Play, 40, 44, 46; archery, 41; hunting, 44; 136; ventriloquism and sleight of hand, 129, house, 41, 43, 75 144; the Jossakeed, 139 Pomo, 19, 27, 32, 37, 56, 70, 80, 128, 148 Shasta, 123, 134, 141, 151, 152 Power: acquisition of, 133; measure of, 99. Shawnee, 22, 42, 49, 67, 72, 73, 82 See also Shaman(s) Shoshone, 6, 12, 16, 20, 27, 55, 61, 135, 156 Praise, 49-50, 86, 161; incentive, 47, 50, 75; Shuswap, 55; -Thompson, 79 and reward, 48, 49 Sia, 157 Prestige names, 63, 64-65, 75 Siberia, 120, 123 Priest(s), 64, 115; functions of, 106, 114, 118; Sibs, 23 training of, 107, 110; Iroquois "Keepers of Sleiatl, 98 the Faith," .113 Siouan, 12, 39, 84, 159 Psychic disturbances, 124, 130; insanity as Sioux, 9, 12, 21, 23, 26, 29, 42, 44, 46, 54, 63, 68, evidence of power, 129; "Motion-in-the- 71, 82, 90, 94, 142 Hand," 117, 122; and "Star-Gazing," 117 Skidi, 156 Puberty: confinement, 16; ceremonies for Slave, 69, 78 boys, 84-86 passim Sled(s), 43, 45 Pueblo: region, 11, 100, 115; peoples, 9, 27, 33, Snake: Indians, 79; Spirit, 27 34, 35, 42, 54, 60, 136, 153 Snohomish, 41 182 Index Social status, achievement of, 7, 54 Umbilical cord ceremonies, 66 Societies, secret, 31, 36, 108, 112; initiations, 17, 102, 107; stimulus to learning, 108; dis- Virginia Indians, 9, 72 ciplinary functions of, 32-39 pas8m; age- Vision quest, 38, 56, 62, 85, 87, 89-90, 100-103, graded societies, 32 132, 159, 161; educational significance of, Songs, 52, 100 94; preparation for, 95; objective of, 99, Southeast: area, 49, 61, 65, 159; tribes, 21, 26, 104; secrecy, 96 39, 72 Vocational training, 40; apprenticeship, 18 Southwest: area, 11, 26, 35, 84, 100, 102, 159; tribes, 7, 49, 65 Wailaki, 123 Spirit replicas, 29-30 Walapai, 153 Spirit language, 143, 144 Washo, 62 Stories and storytelling, 151-152, 157 Weaving, 46 Sun Dance, 58, 96, 102, 109 Whipping, 6, 8, 35. See also Punishment, Ini- Suuke, 34 tiation(s), Ordeals Whistles, 42, 130 Taboos, 72, 84, 86, 95, 102 Wichita, 72, 152 Tanaino, 20, 43, 56, 65, 69, 78, 120, 127, 136 Windigo (Witiko), 28, 34; "Sickness," 122, 131 Taos, 33, 34 Winnebago, 9, 21, 55, 90, 92, 111, 137, 140, 144; Teacher(s), 66, 144-145; teaching in organ- Medicine Society, 112, 135 ized classes, 112, 114 Wintun, 80, 123, 134, 148 Teknonymy, 65, 74 Wishram, 30, 49, 70, 79, 92, 93, 98 T8te-de-Boule, 28, 122 Wyandot, 26 Tewa, 34, 35, 57, 81, 84 Thompson Indians, 8, 26-27, 56, 79, 87, 89-90, Yakima, 20, 98, 121 140, 153 Yao, 29 Thunder Bird, 137 Yavapai, 19, 41, 136, 141, 149, 157 Timucua, 114 Yellowknife, 78 Tlingit, 19, 65, 69, 142 Yokuts, 56, 148 Tolowa, 56, 72, 80 Yuchi, 57, 72 Tongwa7c, 100 Yuki, 32, 56, 80, 112, 113, 123, 134, 148 Toys, 41-43; bull-roarer, 130. See also Dolls, Yuma, 44, 62, 99, 134, 137 Games, Bow and arrow, etc. Yurok, 93 Tsimshian, 20, 153, 155 Tiubatulabal, 41, 80 Zufni, 6, 33, 34, 36, 49, 54, 57, 67, 70, 103, 115, Tusayan, 42 153, 156, 157, 159