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 appearance, but in fact and
fundamentally it remains the same thing. In all the lower forms of
religion, and in most of the higher, there are practices which are by
common consent and beyond doubt magical. This indisputable fact lends
colour to the view that religion was in its origin nothing but magic,
and that religion is, to those who can see the facts as they are,
nothing but magic to this day: the magician was but a priest, and the
priest, claiming superhuman power, is but a magician still. Prayers were
at first but spells, and even now are supposed, by simple repetition, to
produce their effects.

If against this view it be objected that one of the most constant facts
in the history of all religions, from the lowest to the highest, is that
religion has at all times carried on war against sorcery, witchcraft,
and magic, that in the lowest stages of man's evolution witches have