united by certain intimate and mystic ties to groups of men.' It seems,
therefore, according to Frazer, that in totemism, when dissected, there
is no religion, just as in the child's drum, when cut open, there
is--nothing. Yet, we may reflect, on the battle-field from a drum
proceeds a great and glorious sound, inspiring men to noble deeds.
Whereas _ex nihilo nil fit_: from nothing naturally nothing comes. If,
however, something does come, it is not from nothing that it comes.
Amongst the most primitive savages known to us, men are united to their
totems, as Frazer admits, by 'certain intimate and mystic ties'.

What then is it in totemism from which, on Sir James Frazer's view,
something comes? We might, perhaps, have expected that it was from the
'mystic' bond uniting man with the world which is not only around him
but of which he is part, and in which he lives and moves and has his
being. To say so, however, would be to admit that in totemism there was
something not only 'mystic' but potentially religious. And Sir James
Frazer does not follow that line of thought, so dangerous in his view.
On the contrary, he maintains that 'the aspect of the totemic system,
which we have hitherto been accustomed to describe as religious,
deserves rather to be called magical'. The totem rites which Robertson
Smith had interpreted as being sacramental and as being intended as a
means of communion with the totem-gods Sir James Frazer regards as
merely magical: 'totemism,' he says, 'is merely an organized system of
magic intended to secure a supply of food.'

We may remark, in passing, that if totemism is 'mere' magic, there is
indeed (as Sir James holds) no worship in totemism, but in that case in
totemism there can be no such 'intimate and mystic ties' between the
totem and the totem-kin as Sir James at first maintained there was. But
be that as it may, according to Sir James Frazer, 'in the heart of
Australia, amongst the most primitive savages known to us,' we find
totemism; and totemism on examination proves to be 'merely an organized
system of magic'. If now we start by assuming these premisses, or by
granting these postulates for the sake of argument, we can, indeed,
erect on them a theory of the evolution of religion. But if we so start,
we must do as Sir James Frazer did in the first edition of _The Golden
Bough_: we must hold that religion is but a developed form of magic. _En
route_ it may have changed considerably in appea