Serpent-Worship, and Other Essays, with a Chapter on Totemism — A Reader’s Guide

The River Metaphor as Structural Spine

Wake does not merely mention Forlong’s chart; he lets it shape the book’s argumentative movement. The first chapter presents the chart as a map of religious evolution, and subsequent essays repeatedly return to the idea of symbolic objects appearing in a fixed order. For instance, the serpent is placed third, after tree and phallic symbols, implying a developmental sequence. This structural choice gives the collection a coherence often absent in essay compilations. Yet Wake also complicates the metaphor by noting that streams can be absorbed or resurface—suggesting that no faith is entirely superseded. Readers should watch how each essay invokes the river image to link disparate topics, from Australian marriage classes to ancient Near Eastern rites.

Recurring Images: The Serpent and the Phallus

Two images dominate the excerpts: the serpent and the phallus. Wake treats them not as isolated symbols but as part of a network. In the chapter on serpent-worship, he traces the serpent’s appearance across cultures, often linking it to phallic symbolism. The phallus, meanwhile, appears in discussions of sacred prostitution and primitive marriage. Wake’s method is comparative: he moves from ancient Egypt to contemporary Australia, noting structural similarities. For example, he cites Fison’s work on Australian group marriage to argue that classificatory kinship systems reflect a logic akin to totemic organization. The recurring images thus serve as anchors for cross-cultural comparison, though the excerpts leave unclear how Wake resolves tensions between universal symbolism and local variation.

Movement Between Scenes: From Ancient Temples to Australian Camps

The book’s geographical and temporal range is striking. Wake shifts from the ruined temples of the East to the marriage systems of Australian Aborigines within a few pages. This movement is not random; it follows the river metaphor’s logic—tracing the same symbolic currents across different landscapes. In the chapter on marriage, Wake uses Fison’s reports to illustrate group marriage, then compares it to ancient practices. The effect is to collapse distance: the Australian camp becomes a living museum of early human organization. However, Wake’s reliance on secondhand accounts (Forlong, Fison, Morgan) means the movement is mediated. Readers should note how Wake handles evidence: he quotes extensively but rarely critiques his sources, which may affect the reliability of his comparisons.

The Role of Totemism in Wake’s Argument

Totemism, given its own chapter, functions as a bridge between the earlier essays on worship and the later ones on social organization. Wake defines totems as emblems of group identity, often animal or plant, and links them to exogamy and classificatory kinship. The excerpts show him drawing on Morgan and Fison to argue that totemic systems regulate marriage across vast distances. This connects to the serpent and phallus themes: totems, like those symbols, are objects of veneration that structure social relations. Yet the excerpts do not reveal whether Wake sees totemism as a stage in religious evolution or a persistent feature. The book’s structure—placing totemism after spiritism and before man’s relation to apes—suggests an evolutionary framework, but the evidence is incomplete.

Wake’s collection rewards readers who attend to its structural logic and recurring imagery. The river metaphor, the serpent-phallus nexus, and the movement between ancient and contemporary scenes are not incidental but central to his comparative project. Because the excerpts are partial, readers should approach claims about evolutionary sequences with caution. The book is best read as a document of late-Victorian anthropology, revealing how scholars wove together travel narratives, classical texts, and field reports into grand theories of human belief.

There’s something tender about old books that trace how people once understood the sacred—serpents, totems, strange marriages—as if they were fumbling toward a language for awe. After finishing that 1888 collection, I found myself drifting to quiet volumes about building one’s own library, wondering if the collecting itself isn’t a kind of ritual too. Literary Taste: How to Form It With Detailed Instructions for Collecting a Complete Library of English Literature — Edition Insights felt like a warm hand on my shoulder, reminding me that every shelf holds its own reverence.