that, after the deaths of New Zealand chiefs, wooden images, twenty to forty feet high, were erected as monuments—we cannot shut our eyes to the fact that the figure of the dead man is an incipient idol. Could we doubt, our doubt would end on finding the figure persistently worshiped. J. d'Acosta tells us of the Peruvians that—
"each king had, while living, . . . a stone figure representing himself, called Guanqui [huanque]—i. e., brother. This figure was to be worshiped like the Ynca himself, during his life as well as after his death."
So, too, according to Andagoya—
"When a chief died, his house and wives and servants remained as in his lifetime, and a statue of gold was made in the likeness of the chief, which was served as if it had been alive, and certain villages were set apart to provide it with clothing, and all other necessaries."
And, similarly, Cogolludo testifies that the Yucatanese "worshiped the idol of one who is said to have been one of their great captains."
That we may understand better the feelings with which a savage looks at a representative figure, let us recall the kindred feelings produced by representations among ourselves.
When a lover kisses the miniature of his mistress, he is obviously influenced by an association between the appearance and the reality. Even more strongly do such associations sometimes act. A young lady known to me confesses that she cannot bear to sleep in a room having portraits on the walls; and this repugnance is not unparalleled. In such cases, the knowledge that portraits consist of paint and canvas only, fails to expel the suggestion of something more. The vivid representation so strongly arouses the thought of a living personality, that this cannot be kept out of consciousness.
Now, suppose culture absent—suppose there exist no ideas of attributes, law, cause—no distinctions between natural and unnatural, possible and impossible. This associated consciousness of a living presence will then persist. No conflict with established knowledge arising, the unresisted suggestion will become a belief.
Beliefs thus produced in savages have been incidentally referred to. Here are some further examples of them. Kane states that the Chinooks think portraits supernatural, and look at them with the same ceremony as at a dead person. According to Bancroft, the Okanagans "have the same aversion that has been noted on the coast "to having their portraits taken. We learn from Catlin that the Mandans thought the life put into a picture was so much life taken from the original. He also says:
"They pronounced me the greatest medicine-man in the world; for they said I had made living beings—they said they could see their chiefs alive in two places those that I had made were a little alive—they could see their eyes move."
Nor do more advanced races fail to supply kindred facts. Concerning
