{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_71107/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_71107","id":"gutenberg_71107","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/71107","summary":null,"tags":["Andromeda, Princess, daughter of Cepheus, King of Ethiopia (Mythological character)","Category: Archaeology & Anthropology","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Folklore -- Classification","Medusa (Gorgon)","Perseus (Greek mythological character)","Rites and ceremonies"],"text":"The\n Legend of Perseus\n\n A STUDY OF TRADITION IN STORY\n CUSTOM AND BELIEF: BY\n\n Edwin Sidney Hartland\n F.S.A\n\n VOL. II.\n THE LIFE-TOKEN\n\n\n\n\n Published by David Nutt\n in the Strand, London\n 1895\n\n\n\n\n [IMPRINT]\n\nEdinburgh: T. and A. Constable, Printers to Her Majesty\n\n\n\n\n NOTE\n\nThe discussion of the Life-token has proved so important, going down\nto the very foundations of the savage philosophy of life, that I have\nfound it impossible to bring to a close this study of the Legend of\nPerseus within the compass of two volumes. A third, however, will\ncomplete the task, and will also include a supplementary\nBibliographical List and an Index.\n\nI desire to add to the names of friends who have so kindly extended to\nme their assistance in various ways, those of Mr. Edward Clodd, now\npresident of the Folklore Society, the Rev. W. Gregor, LL.D., Mrs.\nFanny D. Bergen, M. J. D. E. Schmeltz, the learned Curator of the\nEthnographical Museum at Leiden, and editor of the _Internationales\nArchiv_, and Mr. W. R. Paton. To Mr. W. H. D. Rouse I have had\noccasion to refer so frequently for assistance of various kinds,\nconstantly and ungrudgingly rendered, that I hardly know how to thank\nhim.\n\n Highgarth, Gloucester,\n    _May_ 1895.\n\n\n\n\n CONTENTS\n\n{vi}\n\n CHAPTER VIII.\n\n The Life-token in Tale and Custom\n\n Two classes of life-tokens; the one, originally connected with the\n hero; the other, arbitrary--Examples given in previous\n chapters--Examples from _m\u00e4rchen_ outside the Perseus cycle--The\n magical mirror--The Life-token in mirror and well--Tokens of\n Fidelity--Connection of the Life-token and External Soul--Birth\n Ceremonies--Planting of trees and other life-tokens in\n custom--Divination.\n\n CHAPTER IX\n\n Witchcraft: Sympathetic Magic\n\n Folktale incidents presenting the divisibility of a person, continued\n sympathy of severed portions of a person with the bulk, and the\n endowment of the severed portions with consciousness--Modes of\n witchcraft--Witchcraft upon objects identified with the\n victim--Severed portions of the body--Footprints--Food--Dress--Objects\n more remotely associated with the victim--Witchcraft upon arbitrary\n objects--Name--Defences against witchcraft.\n\n CHAPTER X\n\n Witchcraft: Philtres--Preventive and remedial Leechcraft\n\n Different kinds of love-potions--Hair and other substances taken from\n the body--Clothing--Footprints--Dangers {vii} of carelessness over\n severed parts of the body--Cure for warts--Doctrine of\n Transplantation--Mistaken applications of--Doctrine of\n Sympathy--Remedies derived from the dead--\u201cA hair of the dog that bit\n you.\u201d\n\n CHAPTER XI\n\n Sacred Wells and Trees\n\n Ceremonies at wells and trees in the British Islands--On the Continent\n of Europe--Nails driven into trees and images--Analogous rites\n elsewhere--Usual explanations discussed--Rites at cairns--True meaning\n of the rites--Dedication of hair at sacred shrines and graves--Other\n votive offerings.\n\n CHAPTER XII\n\n Totemism--The Blood Covenant--Customs connected with Saliva\n\n Recapitulation--Union with the god--Totemism--Sacrifices--The Blood\n Covenant--Its evolution--Its sacramental character--Its decay--Changes\n in its effect--Saliva customs--Analogy to the Blood Covenant--Spitting\n on infants--Spitting on various occasions--Against witchcraft--Saliva\n of sacred personages.\n\n CHAPTER XIII\n\n Funeral Rites\n\n The clan one body--The common meal--Eating the dead in\n antiquity--Among modern savages--Survivals in modern Europe--Funeral\n feasts--The Sin-eater--Similar customs in other countries--Eating with\n the dead--Sacramental union with the dead--Smearing with ashes,\n etc.--Wearing bones and other relics of {viii} the dead--Cutting\n oneself for the dead--Mutilation--Gifts of hair to the dead--Burial in\n a common grave--Custom of Ett\u00e1.\n\n CHAPTER XIV\n\n Marriage Rites\n\n Analogy of marriage with admission into the clan--Custom of\n _Sindra-d\u00e1n_--Blood-rites--_Confarreatio_--Ritual food shared by all\n guests--Meaning of the rite--Marriage constitutes a new relationship\n on the part of the entire kin--Bridal dance and kiss--Nasamonian\n rite--Group-marriage--Rights of the kin over husband or wife--The\n Levirate--Reception by marriage into the kin--Consent of the kin.\n\n CHAPTER XV\n\n The Couvade and other illustrations of the strength of the\n Blood-tie--Conclusion of the inquiry into the theory of the Life-token\n\n The Couvade--Its true meaning--Not found among the lowest\n savages--Sponsorship--Adoption--Collective responsibility of the\n clan--The Blood-feud--Medical treatment of the kin for the disease of\n one member--Solidarity of the family--Cannot be terminated even by\n death--Sacramental conception of a kindred--The theory of life\n underlying the Life-token--Conclusion of the inquiry into the\n Life-token.\n\n Endnotes\n\n Press Notices\n\n Errata\n\n\n\n\n THE LEGEND OF PERSEUS\n\n{1}\n\n{2}\n\n CHAPTER VIII.\n THE LIFE-TOKEN IN TALE AND CUSTOM.\n\n{3}\n\nThe life-tokens we have met with in previous chapters may be divided\ninto two classes, namely, such as have some original connection with\nthe hero, and such as are merely arbitrary. Of the first, the most\nwidespread and important is the tree that grows up from some portion\nof the magical fish. In _The King of the Fishes_ and in the\ncorresponding Norman tale the tree is a rose-tree growing, in the one\ncase from the buried scales, in the other from the buried bones. In\none of the stories from Lorraine it will be remembered that some of\nthe fish\u2019s bones were buried under a rose-tree, and there the babes\nare subsequently found. Their life-tokens are not the tree, but three\nroses growing upon it. In one of Grimm\u2019s German tales we find two\ngolden lilies growing from two pieces of the fish. Two cypresses arise\nfrom the fish\u2019s tail in the Greek story. In the Hungarian Gipsy tale,\nwhere the mother becomes pregnant by drinking from an _urme\u2019s_ breast,\nthe _urme_ drops of her milk into two holes in the ground, whence the\nlife-tokens, two oak-trees, spring. The mermaid, in a Highland\n_m\u00e4rchen_, gives twelve grains, of which three are for the fisher\u2019s\nwife and produce three boys, and three are to be planted and produce\ntrees of a kind unspecified. Equally, {4} doomed to death at the hands\nof a Rakshasi, her fellow-wife, gives her son in a golden vessel a\nsmall quantity of her own breast-milk, which will become red if his\nfather be killed, and more deeply red if she herself be slain.[4.1]\n\nIn both these cases there has been originally an organic connection\nbetween the token and the person whose condition is indicated. Such a\nconnection is not common outside the Perseus cycle. Usually there is\nno more connection traceable between the hero and his life-token than\nthat subsisting between an owner and his property, sometimes not so\nmuch. At most it is founded in the planting by him, or at the time of\nhis birth, of the tree that serves as the token. A remnant of organic\nconnection, however, appears in the Panj\u00e2bi story about Prince\nLionheart. This personage was born in consequence of his mother\u2019s\neating some barleycorns given her by a fakir. When the prince bids\nfarewell to his retainer, the knife-grinder, on whom he has bestowed a\nkingdom and a bride, he gives him a barley-plant as a life-token. He\nafterwards gives, in similar circumstances, a barley-plant each to his\nother retainers, the blacksmith and the carpenter. His instructions\nare that these plants be carefully tended and watered, for so long as\nthey flourish he will be alive and well; but if they droop, misfortune\nwill be at hand. The prince\u2019s life is dependent on his sword. When the\nsword is thrown into the fire, a burning fever comes over him: when\nthe hilt {5} comes off, his head rolls off; and at the same moment\nevery one of the barley-plants snaps, so that the ears fall to the\nground.[5.1] In a Bengali tale, and in the first of the tales in the\n_Siddhi-K\u00fcr_, each of the heroes plants a \u201clife-tree.\u201d[5.2] In a\nKaren tale the hero sets two plants, and directs his comrades, if the\nplants wither, to come and seek for him.[5.3] Ibonia, a Malagasy hero,\nplants arums and plantain-trees, saying to his parents: \u201cIf these grow\nwithered, then I am ill; and if they die, that is a sign that I also\nam dead.\u201d[5.4] The princess in a Russian tale, when her husband leaves\nher, gives him a sackful of seeds, telling him to throw them on either\nside of the road he travels: \u201cWherever they fall, that moment trees\nwill spring up; on the trees precious fruit will be hanging in beauty,\nvarious birds will sing songs, and tom-cats from over the sea will\ntell tales.\u201d When he is drugged, the tree-tops begin to wither; and\nthe princess sets out after him.[5.5] An Indian story shows us the\nlame prince, on undertaking an adventure, giving his mother a plant as\nhis life-token.[5.6] Apparently the plant is a growing one, but it\ndoes not appear whether the prince had himself set it. A curious\nexample is found in a variant of Cinderella, collected by M. Cosquin\nin Lorraine. Florine was a king\u2019s only daughter. Her mother in dying\nhad commended above all things to her {6} daughter\u2019s care a little\nwhite lamb. This lamb gives her magical food. When her stepmother\ndiscovers this, she feigns to be sick and persuades the king to kill\nthe lamb that she may eat of it. Ere it dies the lamb directs Florine\nto gather its bones and put them on the pear-tree, whose branches will\nthenceforward be adorned with pretty little golden bells, ringing\nceaseless chimes: if these bells be ever silent, it will be a sign of\nmisfortune. By her command over this magical tree Florine is enabled\nto pluck and give to a certain king some of the bells, which her\nstepsister cannot do. The king, therefore, marries her. In his absence\nher stepmother throws the bride into the river and puts her own\ndaughter in her place. Forthwith the golden bells cease to chime. Now,\ntheir sound could be heard two hundred leagues around. The king,\nremarking that they have stopped, hastens home, and arrives just in\ntime to save the drowning heroine.[6.1] There is little doubt that the\ntale in its more archaic shape exhibited both the lamb and the\npear-tree as transformations of the heroine\u2019s mother, and in this way\nconnected with the heroine by a tie of blood.\n\nIt is not uncommon for the plants to be set by natural or adoptive\nparents. The young Klepht in a modern Greek folksong begs his mother:\n\n \u201cDo thou plant a rose-tree, and plant a dusky clove,\n And water them with sugar, and water them with musk.\n So long they blossom, mother, so long they put forth flowers,\n This son of thine will not be dead, but meet the Turks in battle.\n But if the day of sorrow, the bitter day should come,\n If the two trees fade together, and if their flowers fall,\n Then I, too, shall be smitten, and thou shalt wear the black.\u201d[6.2]\n\n{7}\n\nA Negro story from Angola represents one of the heroes, immediately on\nhis birth, as directing his parents to plant his _kilembe_, or\nlife-tree, at the back of the house.[7.1]\n\nThe Smyrn\u00e6an tale I have already mentioned in Chapter IV. brings\nbefore us a childless queen, who is gifted by a dervish with three\napples. These she must eat, and she will then give birth to three\nboys. At the birth of each a pumpkin is to be planted in the garden:\nit will bring forth one fruit, wherein the child\u2019s strength will\nreside. Afterwards, when one of the pumpkins is cut and carried away,\nthe corresponding youth falls ill, until it is recovered.[7.2] Here\nthe pumpkin is rather the life itself than the life-token; but the\ndistinction, as we shall hereafter see, is not very important. A\nTirolese variant of _The Two Sisters who envied their Cadette_\ndescribes the gardener who rescues the children as planting a\ngilliflower for each of the two boys, and a rose for the girl.\nApparently this is done at the time he finds and adopts the babe. The\nboys grow up and go away successively to seek the Three Beauties of\nthe World; and their flowers wither when they themselves are changed\ninto marble by the Medusa-witch.[7.3]\n\nOften, however, the original planting is not mentioned. The twins, in\na Melanesian story from the island of Aurora, simply set a taboo upon\na banana belonging to them, and said to their uncle Qatu: \u201cIf you go\ninto the garden and see our bunch of bananas beginning to ripen at the\ntop and ripening downwards to the end, Taso has killed us; but if you\nsee that it has begun to ripen at the end and is ripening upwards, we\nshall have killed him.\u201d[7.4] A banana {8} growing by the hero\u2019s hut is\nalso his life-token, in a Malagasy story.[8.1]\n\nThere is a large number of cases which need not detain us now, where\non departure the hero gives a flower that will continue fresh and\nflourishing so long as he is hale and prosperous, but will fade on\nmisfortune or death happening to him. This is a markedly oriental form\nof the Life-token, occurring repeatedly in India and among the Arabs\nof modern Egypt.[8.2] In the _Sinhasana Dwatrinsatika_, or _Thirty-two\nStories of the Speaking Statues_, a Sanskrit work, Siva gives to\nVikram a lotus-flower, saying: \u201cWhen this flower withers, then you\nwill know that you must die in six months, and prepare\naccordingly.\u201d[8.3] Here the ideas of the Life-token, the life itself,\nand a prophetic message are all mixed up.\n\nThe knife stuck into a tree, to drip with blood, or to rust, if the\nowner die, is a commonplace of Slavonic stories.[8.4] In a Serbian\ntale the knife falls out when the hero is overpowered by the\nwitch.[8.5] When three brothers part on the search for a magical\npelican, in a Hungarian _m\u00e4rchen_, they mark a finger-post at the\ncross-roads. Blood will ooze out of it, on the return of any of them,\nif the absent one be in misery or captivity; but milk will flow if he\nbe well.[8.6] A German tale represents the brothers as each cutting a\ntree. The cut becomes blood-red if either {9} of them be dead or in\nneed.[9.1] In the _Arabian Nights_ Bahman gives his hunting-knife to\nPerizadah: it will become blood-stained on his death. The same\nincident is found in Spain, in Iceland, and in Italy.[9.2] Elsewhere\nother weapons are named. So long as a poniard can be drawn from its\nsheath, in a tale obtained by M. Luzel at Plouaret in Lower Brittany,\nno ill has happened to its owner; but if it stick, he is dead.[9.3]\nSikulume, in a Kaffir story, sticks his assagai in the ground before\nhe ventures among some cannibals, saying: \u201cIf it stands still, you\nwill know I am safe; if it shakes, you will know I am running; if it\nfalls down, you will know I am dead.\u201d[9.4] An Epirote story makes one\nof the twins say, when they part: \u201cIf the sword of either of us become\nbloody, that will be a sign that the other one lies dying.\u201d[9.5]\n\nAmong other articles of property, a rosary, or a ring, is the\nfavourite. Parwez, in the _Arabian Nights_, gives his sister a string\nof one hundred pearls: while they run loose on the string, he is\nliving. The rosary also appears in a modern Arab folktale from Egypt\n(already cited), in Catalonia, in Brittany, and in tales obtained at\nTroyes in Champagne and at Mantua.[9.6] In Arab tales the ring\ntightens round the finger when the giver of the ring suffers\nmishap.[9.7] In a Vlach ballad it rusts.[9.8] More usually the {10}\nstone it contains changes colour. This is the case in the old French\nromance of _Flores et Blanchefleur_; and it reappears among the\nBasques, in Italy, and, though rarely, in Russia.[10.1] In Sicily the\nring is originally the gift of a fairy, or rather a Fate, at the birth\nof the three children borne by the heroine of a variant of _The Two\nSisters who envied their Cadette_.[10.2] The virtues ascribed of old\nto precious stones were many; and we should have had cause for\nsurprise if we had not found gems in the list of life-tokens.\n\nA handkerchief is a frequent gift. It becomes black, or more usually\nbesmirched with blood.[10.3] In a Vlach ballad just referred to, the\nlady delivers to her husband her veil, adorned with a border of golden\nbroidery. \u201cWhen the gold shall melt,\u201d she says, \u201cknow thou that I am\ndead.\u201d In a modern Greek tale from the island of Syra, two brothers,\nstarting to seek for the magical bird Dikjeretto, leave their shirts\nwith their sister. If misfortune meet them, the shirts will turn\nblack.[10.4] Each of three brothers in a Lithuanian story sets up at\nthe crossway, ere they part, a blue banner, which will be stained with\nred--in other words, with blood--in the event of his death.[10.5] In a\nstory from Southern Russia, Ivan Popyaloff, going to fight the snake\nthat withheld the daylight, hung up his gloves, desiring his brothers\nto hasten to his help if blood dropped from them.[10.6] In {11}\nanother Russian story the hero thoughtfully puts a plate beneath, to\ncatch the blood.[11.1] Lemmink\u00e4inen, in the _Kalevala_, having\nbrushed his beautiful hair, flings the brush upon the oven-posts, and\ndeclares that on harm\u2019s happening to him it will shed blood.\nAccordingly, when he is done to death in the Underworld, his wife is\nmade aware of the fact by the bristles dripping with gore.[11.2] Mats\nmade from the skins of beasts he has slain, and a pipe, are left\nbehind with his foster-mother by a young Micmac brave, who goes to\nmake war on the savage Culloos: she will see blood on them if he be\nkilled.[11.3] Strong Hans, in a tale from Syra, cannot be got to do\nanything but play his cither. When he sallies forth to fight the ogre,\nwho has ravished away the king\u2019s daughter, he tells his mother: \u201cIf\nyou see that the strings of my cither are broken, then up and seek\nme!\u201d[11.4] In an obscure passage of the _Popol Vuh_, the sacred book\nof the Quich\u00e9, the heroes Hunhun-Ahpu and Vukub-Hunahpu appear to\nleave as their life-token with their mother the india-rubber ball with\nwhich they loved to play.[11.5] One of the Torres Straits islanders\ntold Professor Haddon a tale wherein a mother, while at work, breaks\nher digging-stick, and at once concludes that something has happened\nto her baby-boy. Sure enough it has; for a gust of wind had blown down\nhis basket-cradle, and a man and his wife passing by have found the\nchild in the grass and taken him away.[11.6] Here the instrument\nneither belongs to, nor {12} is it indicated by, the person affected.\nSo in an Iroquois legend, when the hero starts in search of the\ndaughter of a neighbouring chief, his uncle, under whose tutelage he\nis, brings out \u201ca curious thing made of coloured string and elk-hair\nof deep red, about a foot long. \u2018I shall keep this by me,\u2019 said he,\n\u2018and so long as you are doing well it will hang as it is; but if you\nare in danger it will come down itself almost to the ground, and if it\ndoes reach the ground you will die.\u2019\u201d[12.1]\n\nAccording to a _m\u00e4rchen_ told by the Transylvanian Armenians, a\nmaiden presses a gold coin into her lover\u2019s hand and tells him that\nwhen it is rusty she will be dead.[12.2] In the Russian tale of _Marya\nMorevna_, the hero leaves successively his silver spoon, fork and\nsnuff-box with his three Animal Brothers-in-law, when he goes on the\nperilous adventure of rescuing his fair wife from Koshchei the\nDeathless. When he is killed and chopped into pieces by the ogre, all\nthe silver turns black.[12.3] The hero of a Tirolese tale and his\nsister kindle two lights; and he declares that if one of them go out,\nshe must take it as a sign that something has happened to him and he\nwill nevermore return.[12.4] A candle is combined with the\nhandkerchief which becomes bloody in a Russian story. The youngest\nbrother going away in a Sicilian _m\u00e4rchen_ touches a vase of cloves\nand utters the warning that the drying up of the cloves will be a\nsignal of his having been {13} turned to marble by the\nMedusa-witch.[13.1] In Russian tales the hero\u2019s horse stands in blood\nup to his knees, or even up to his neck, or up to his ankles in tears,\nwhen his master is dead.[13.2] In another Russian tale a glass of\nwater becomes tinged with blood.[13.3] And in a Servian tale the\neldest brother, on going out with the second, directs the youngest to\nput a kettle on the fire to boil, and to keep stirring the fire\nbeneath it. If the water turn to blood, he is to let a little dog out\nof the cellar, and bid it follow the way the two elder brothers have\ntaken.[13.4] Similarly in a Georgian story the prince fills a cup with\nwater and puts it near the fire. So long as it remains pure he will be\nalive; but on its changing to blood he will be dead.[13.5] In the\nEgyptian manuscript the elder brother is warned of his younger\u2019s fate\nby the beer he is about to drink turning into froth. Here again, it\nwill be noted, there is no apparent connection with the hero, save\nthat he has previously appointed this sign.\n\nOne of the magical objects most famous in tradition and in romantic\nliterature is the mirror wherein the beholder can see any object at\nwill. It became prominent in the dreams of science during the\nsixteenth and early seventeenth centuries, when it is said to have\nfigured among the properties of astrologers. In English literature the\nEnchanted Mirror is best remembered from the Squire\u2019s Tale of\nCambuscan Bold, and by the admirable use of it in one of the\n_Ingoldsby Legends_. I do not propose to discuss it here further than\nis necessary to show its relations with the Life-token. The first time\nwe meet with it in literature is in Lucian\u2019s _True History_. It is\nfound in the {14} moon, of enormous dimensions, lying over a well.\nAnybody, we are told, who enters the well hears whatever is said upon\nthe earth; and anybody looking into the mirror sees as in a panorama\nall the cities and nations of the world. The Greek Munchausen declares\nthat he saw his family and his entire fatherland; and whoever does not\nbelieve him can go there and look for himself! A singular parallel is\nfound among the Dyaks of Borneo. According to their traditions, one of\nthe ancient fathers of the race climbed upon a gigantic tree to the\nPleiades, where he was hospitably entertained by a friendly being, who\nintroduced him to rice--a food until then unknown on earth. Being left\nalone for a short time, the visitor peeped into a big jar, and there,\nto his astonishment, saw, as in a mirror, his father\u2019s house, with the\nwhole family party gathered in animated discussion. His spirits fell,\nfor he feared he should never return home from that immense distance.\nBut his host cheered him up; and after giving him a good dinner, and\nsome rice to plant, with full instructions as to its cultivation and\nother hints on husbandry, he let him down by a rope to the earth\nagain. The adventurer, having thus got back in safety, taught his\npeople the lessons he had learned in the Pleiades; and he is still\nvenerated as the father of agriculture.[14.1] In the far west the Ynca\nYupanqui, if we may trust the Peruvian legend reported by Molina, once\nwent to visit his father Viracocha Ynca. Coming to a certain fountain,\nhe saw a piece of crystal fall into it; and within the crystal he\nbeheld the figure of a man dressed like an Ynca. From the back of his\nhead issued three brilliant rays like those of the sun. The royal\nfringe was upon his head, and {15} ear-pieces, like those of the\nYncas, adorned his ears. Serpents twined around his arms and\nshoulders. Upon his shoulders there was a lion, while the head of\nanother lion appeared between his legs. Yupanqui fled; but from within\nthe fountain the apparition called him by name. \u201cCome hither,\u201d it\nsaid, \u201cmy son, and fear not, for I am the Sun, thy father. Thou shalt\nconquer many nations: therefore be careful to pay great reverence to\nme, and remember me in thy sacrifices.\u201d Saying this, the apparition\nvanished; but the crystal remained. The Ynca took care of it, and we\nare told that thenceforth he saw in it everything he wanted.[15.1]\n\nMr. Clouston, in his notes to John Lane\u2019s feeble continuation of the\nSquire\u2019s Tale, has brought together a large number of instances of\nmagical mirrors, beginning with Vergil the Magician and coming down to\nthe practices recorded by Mr. E. W. Lane and others in modern Egypt\nand India.[15.2] A boy is ordinarily the agent in the last-mentioned\npractices, and a spot of ink in the hollow of his hand the mirror. The\nsame practices were employed in classical antiquity, and were not\nunknown during the Middle Ages. A German saga relates that a jewel of\ncrystal was by a mysterious stranger left as a gift with a burgess of\nNuremberg who had shown him hospitality for three days. If a chaste\nboy looked into the crystal he would see a little man, who would show\nhim everything it was desired to know. So great was the reputation of\nthe {16} glass, that people used to threaten one another: \u201cSpeak the\ntruth, or I\u2019ll go to the little man.\u201d[16.1] In a Gipsy story from\nTransylvania a king\u2019s daughter possesses a mirror wherein she can see\neverything in the world.[16.2] Another mirror with somewhat more\nlimited capacity was the gift of a mountain spirit in a German tale;\nbut it had other powers that resulted at last in a curse.[16.3] When\nVasco da Gama was sailing towards India, some of the Indian wizards\nare said to have shown the people at Calicut in basins of water his\nthree ships.[16.4] The Egyptian and modern Indian practices are\nordinarily used for discovering thefts; and this was often the purpose\nin Europe. In Tahiti and Hawaii the priest was sent for on similar\noccasions. After some prayers he caused a hole to be dug in the floor\nof the house, and filled with water. He continued his incantations\nwith a young plantain in his hand until he observed the image of the\nthief in the water.[16.5] In the Isle of Man a notorious witch is\nreported to have made use of a bowl of {17} water in order to divine\nas to the safety of a herring-fleet.[17.1] The Otando fetish-man of\nEquatorial Africa also uses a vessel of water; the Mpongwe fetish-man\nuses a mirror.[17.2] In Borneo the _manang_, or medicine-man, is\nfrequently provided with a magical stone into which he can look and\nsee what is ailing a sick man, and prescribe for him\naccordingly.[17.3] The Cakchiquels of Central America had a sacred\nobsidian stone, which was their national oracle, and was mysteriously\nconnected with the origin of mankind. A stone, apparently identified\nwith this, is preserved in the church of Tecpan, Guatemala. It was\nshown to Mr. Stephens, who describes it as \u201ca piece of common slate,\nfourteen inches by ten, and about as thick as those used by boys at\nschool, without characters of any kind upon it.\u201d[17.4] No doubt the\neye of faith was required to see anything in it. Crystals are used by\nthe medicine-men of the Apaches for divining.[17.5] The Urim and\nThummim of Hebrew antiquity seem to have been objects of the same kind\nof superstition. The \u201cMirror of Light\u201d is not unknown even in these\ndays, and has been honoured with the attention of the Society for\nPsychical Research.[17.6]\n\nLucian, in placing the mirror in a well, was probably {18} satirising\nthe belief in sacred wells which had properties like those he\nattributed to the mirror. Such wells and pools are still to be found,\nboth in stories and in fact. A fairy in an Italian tale points out to\nthe hero a fountain which will be a mirror for him, into which he can\nlook, and to which he can give commands, and they will be\nobeyed.[18.1] It was formerly believed at York that he who flung, on\nMay morning before the Minster clock struck one, five white stones\ninto a certain part of the Ouse near the city, would see in the water,\nas in a mirror, whatever he might desire, whether past, present, or\nfuture.[18.2] On the promontory of T\u00e6narum, now Cape Matapan,\nPausanias tells us, was a famous fountain. In his day there was\nnothing remarkable to be seen in it; but anciently those who pried\ninto its depths might see views of ports and ships. In the Cyane\u00e6,\nhard by Lycia, too, there was a spring, into which whoso descended saw\nwhatever he wished to behold.[18.3] And there is a wonderful well in\nSamoa, wherein a variety of scenes may be perceived by those who will\nundertake the risk of being enticed into its stony depths.[18.4]\n\nSo far we have found no Life-token in mirror or well. A mirror or\nwell, however, which reveals to the inquirer only the health of one in\nwhom he has an interest, is obviously nothing more than a special\nvariety of the mirror {19} or well revealing anything or everything.\nThis is the variety mentioned in a Roman variant of _Beauty and the\nBeast_, where Beauty, on taking leave of the Beast for a short time,\nis given a mirror, into which she can look and see how he is.[19.1] In\na Swedish _m\u00e4rchen_ already cited, on the two comrades parting at a\ncrossway, one of them dips his knife into the fountain adjacent, and\nsays to the other: \u201cIt shall be to thee a sign that I am living so\nlong as the water of this spring is clear; but if it be red and\nturbid, then I shall be dead, and I certainly expect that thou wilt\navenge my death.\u201d[19.2]\n\nThis convenient way of obtaining news of absent friends is said to be\nstill in use. The Eskimo of Greenland, when a man has not returned in\ndue time from an expedition in his kayak, hold the head of his nearest\nrelation over a tub of water, and judge from the reflection beneath\nwhether the absent person has been upset, or is still sitting in the\nboat, rowing.[19.3] In the island of Tahiti, if one, looking at the\nwater of certain springs, chance to see it tinged with blood, it is a\nsign that one of the beholder\u2019s friends is about to die.[19.4] Nor is\nit different in our own country. Gulval Well, in Cornwall, answers\ninquiries put with the proper formula. If the person asked after be\nalive and well, the quiet water will instantly boil and bubble clear\nand pure; if he be sick, the water becomes foul and puddled; if he be\ndead, it remains calm and lifeless.[19.5] The legends accounting for\nthese phenomena in Tahiti and Cornwall are unrecorded. In the parish\nof Kirkmichael, in the county of Banff, there {20} is a fountain\ndedicated to St. Michael, and famous for its healing virtues. The\nguardian of the well appears in the shape of a fly which, it is\nbelieved, never dies. \u201cTo the eye of ignorance,\u201d we are told, \u201che\nmight sometimes appear dead; but agreeably to the Druidic system, it\nwas only a Transmigration into a similar form, which made little\nalteration on the real identity.\u201d He was, in former days at all\nevents, constantly on duty. \u201cIf the sober matron wished to know the\nissue of her husband\u2019s ailment, or the love-sick Nymph that of her\nlanguishing Swain, they visited the Well of St. Michael. Every\nmovement of the sympathetic Fly was regarded in silent awe; and as he\nappeared cheerful or dejected, the anxious votaries drew their\npresages; their breasts vibrated with correspondent emotions.\u201d[20.1]\nBrand and Ellis quote from an old writer a passage concerning\nfountains which prognosticate plenty or famine. The writer concludes\nby saying: \u201cMyselfe know some Gentlemen that confesse, if a certaine\nFountaine (being otherwise very cleane and cleare) be suddenly\ntroubled by meanes of a Worme unknowne, that the same is a personall\nSummons for some of them to depart out of the world.\u201d[20.2] These\nsuperstitions frequently degenerated into mere divination. Dalyell\nrecords that auguries as to the fate of {21} any one were drawn from\nthe finding of a dead or a living worm in a well in the parish of\nStrathdon, and also in the well at Ardnacloich in Appin,\nArgyllshire.[21.1] Sir John Lubbock quotes a striking instance from\nDr. Anderson\u2019s account of the expedition to Western Yunnan. Three men\nhaving gone to the Kakhyen hills, a report reached their families that\none of them had died. To ascertain which of them it was, the old women\nwere divining by means of needles and cotton-wool. Each needle\nrepresenting one of the absent men, threaded with a piece of\ncotton-wool to act as a float, was let down gently into the water. As\nthe floats got thoroughly wetted, the needles would sink one after\nanother; and the man whose needle sank first would be the dead\none.[21.2] The water there was probably contained in a vessel; but the\nprinciple, as we see from several instances already cited, is the\nsame. Before the temple of Demeter at Patras there was a spring that\nwas consulted on the issue of any disease. The method (and here,\nperhaps, we touch the object of Lucian\u2019s satire) was to let down a\nmirror suspended by a cord so as just to allow the water lightly to\ntouch its edges, but not its face. After praying and clearing the air\nwith incense, the performers (probably priests) looked down into the\nmirror, and thence perceived whether the patient would live or\ndie.[21.3] On the isle of Andros it is still the practice for Greek\nmaidens to hold a mirror over a well and to look in it for the face of\ntheir future husbands reflected from the well below.[21.4] In Brittany\nthere are certain wells wherein children\u2019s shirts are dipped. If a\nshirt sink to the bottom, it is a sign of the child\u2019s death within a\nyear. Contrariwise, {22} if the shirt swim, the child will live; and\nto ensure its living and to preserve it from every kind of evil the\nwet garment is immediately put on.[22.1] After that, nobody would deny\nthe child\u2019s continued health to be a miracle. The superstition was not\nby any means confined to Brittany; but it will suffice to give one\nmore example of it here. \u201cBetween the towns of Alten and Newton,\u201d says\none of the Cottonian Manuscripts, \u201cnear the foot of Rosberrye\nToppinge, there is a Well dedicated to St. Oswald. The neighbours have\nan opinion that a Shirt or Shift taken off a sick person and thrown\ninto that Well, will show whether the person will recover or die: for,\nif it floated, it denoted the recovery of the party; if it sank, there\nremained no hope of their life; and to reward the Saint for his\nintelligence, they tear off a Rag of the Shirt, and leave it hanging\non the Briars thereabout; where I have seen such numbers as might have\nmade a fayre Rheme in a Paper Myll.\u201d[22.2]\n\nFor divination of this kind no special connection would be necessary\nbetween the life and the pool or fountain, such as is hinted at in the\nquotation concerning the \u201cWorme unknown.\u201d This is not always so. At\nBrereton, in Cheshire, is a lake whereon floating logs betokened the\ndeath of the head of the family of Brereton.[22.3] Leonard Vair in his\nbook on charms and sortileges mentions a very curious case\ncommunicated to him by Cardinal Granvelle. {23} At the monastery of\nSaint Maurice on the borders of Burgundy, near to the Rhone, was a\nfish-pond which was kept stocked with as many fish as there were\nmonks. When any of the monks fell sick (we are bound to believe it on\nthe authority of a bishop and cardinal), one of the fish floated on\nthe surface of the water, half dead; and if the monk were going to\ndie, the fish would die three or four days before him.[23.1] In like\nmanner, on a mountain in Franconia a fountain issues near the cradle\n(_Stammhaus_) of an ancient noble family. The clear stream gushes\nforth incessantly the whole year round; and it was believed to fail\nonly when one of the family was about to die.[23.2] It is reported of\nthe holy spring of Sz\u00f6r\u00e9ny that its water becomes blood-red as often\nas a King of Hungary dies.[23.3] There is a crater-lake in Madagascar,\nabout eighty miles south-south-west of Antan\u00e1nar\u00edvo, called\nTritriva. It is of a deep green colour, almost black. The natives hold\nthat there is an intimate and secret relation between the lake and the\nmembers of a neighbouring tribe, the Zanatsara. When a tribesman is\ntaken ill, the waters of the lake are at once examined. If they are\ntroubled and become of a brown colour, it is a presage of death: if\nthey remain clear, {24} the patient will have a chance of life.[24.1]\nIn these cases we have precisely the conditions of the Life-token; and\nwe may be allowed to conjecture that other cases of inquiry after\nabsent friends, or divination for the sick, were originally limited to\npersons believed to stand in some special relation with the fountain\nconsulted. Further, the stories and superstitions regarding mirrors\nhave evidently been transferred from pools and springs, to which they\nmust have originally attached. And in the Eskimo practice, and the\ndivination at Patras, and elsewhere, in the performances of Indian and\nEgyptian conjurers and of the fetish-men and priests of Equatorial\nAfrica and the Pacific Islands, we may perhaps trace some of the\nintermediate stages.\n\nThese pools and mirrors have led me to anticipate somewhat. And before\nreturning to Life-tokens a few words must be spent upon the cognate\nsubject of Tokens of Fidelity. The extension of the idea of a\nlife-token to a faith-token is obvious where the persons parted are\nlovers or spouses. In such cases it would not be enough for one to\nknow that the other was living: constant assurance of the absent one\u2019s\nfidelity would be as necessary to the other\u2019s happiness as his life.\nThere is another magical object, familiar in certain stages of\ncivilisation, with which the Faith-token may easily be confounded. I\nmean the Test of Chastity, like the mirror in the beautiful tale of\n_Zayn al-Asnam_, or Florimel\u2019s girdle in the _Faerie Queene_. With\nthis test of chastity in a general sense we have not here to do; nor\nis it necessary to discuss the Faith-token itself at any length.\n\nIn Eastern tales the Faith-token ordinarily assumes the {25} form of a\nflower. In the _Tutinameh_, a soldier\u2019s wife gives her husband on his\ndeparture a rose which will remain fresh while she preserves her\npurity.[25.1] In the _Kath\u00e1-sarit-S\u00e1gara_, the god Siva appears in a\ndream to Guhasena and his wife Devasmit\u00e1 when they are about to part,\nand gives them a red lotus apiece, saying: \u201cTake each of you one of\nthese lotuses in your hand. And if either of you shall be unfaithful\nduring your separation, the lotus in the hand of the other shall fade,\nbut not otherwise.\u201d When they awoke, each beheld in the other\u2019s hand a\nred lotus, \u201cand it seemed as if they had got one another\u2019s\nhearts.\u201d[25.2] In a modern folktale obtained in the Panj\u00e1b the kind\nof flower is not specified, but the incident is the same.[25.3] The\ntoken appears also as a flower or a garland in several of the European\nromances of chivalry; and in a Hungarian _m\u00e4rchen_ a king, going to\nwar, gives to his two daughters two wreaths which will wither if they\nlose their maidenhood.[25.4] In a modern folksong of one of the Greek\nislands, an apple-tree, questioned why it withers, replies:\n\n \u201cThey plighted a youth and maiden beneath my shelter;\n They swore by my branches that they would cling together,\n And now, because I know they part, my leaves are turning yellow.\u201d[25.5]\n\nThese stories have their counterpart in practice. Siva, the Hindu god\nwho is the agent in one of the stories just quoted, is a phallic\ndeity. Among the Mech of Bengal, a Mongoloid tribe just now in a\ntransitional state of religion between animism and the Hinduism which\nis macadamising the innumerable aboriginal cults of India, a sij plant\n{26} (_Euphorbia Indica_) grows in the courtyard of every house. This\nplant is carefully tended as the abode of Siva and the emblem of\nconjugal fidelity. If its leaves wither, something is wrong with one\nof the women of the household.[26.1] A curious superstition of an\nanalogous kind was commonly practised among our own countrymen within\nthe memory of men only a few years dead. Lovers who desired to know\nhow they should succeed in their suit carried flowers called\nbachelors\u2019 buttons in their pockets, and judged of their good or bad\nsuccess by the flowers\u2019 growing or not growing there.[26.2] So it is\nnoted among the superstitions prevalent in France two hundred years\nago, that, in order to know which of three or four persons loved one\nthe best, a corresponding number of thistles should be taken, the buds\ncut off, and to each plant should be imputed the name of one of the\npersons concerning whom it was intended to inquire. The thistles were\nthen to be placed under the head of the inquirer\u2019s bed; and the one\nrepresenting the person who had most affection would put forth new\nbuds.[26.3] At Siena a maiden who wished to know how her love\nprogressed kept and tended a plant of rue. While it flourished all\nwent well; but if it withered it was a sign that the love she desired\nhad failed her.[26.4]\n\nIn the ballad of _Hind Horn_ the king\u2019s daughter gives the hero a\njewelled ring. As long as the stone keeps its {27} colour, he may know\nthat she is faithful; but if it change its hue, he may ken she loves\nanother man. Professor Child, commenting on the ballad, adduces not\nmerely several variants and romances on the same subject, but also a\nRoumanian ballad wherein a prince going to war gives his wife a ring\nwhich will rust if he be dead, and a Silesian story and another\nBritish ballad where the ring breaks in twain.[27.1] In these ballads\nand stories we probably have the real meaning of plighting the troth\nin the marriage service with a ring. Bacon, somewhere discussing the\nsuperstition, gravely suggests that a trial should be made by two\npersons of the effect of compact and agreement; that a ring should be\nput on for each other\u2019s sake, to try whether, if one should break his\npromise, the other would have any feeling of it in his absence. The\nhero of a North German tale receives from his bride the day after\nmarriage a snow-white shirt, which will turn black if she die, and\nbecome stained and spotted if she be untrue.[27.2] A Hungarian\ntradition speaks of a carbuncle which lighted up the neighbourhood of\na lake in the Carpathians while the consort of the king of the\nwater-fays was true to him; but when she fell in love with a mortal\nprince it lost its splendour, and the king with his golden palace and\nall his treasures sank into the black depths of the lake.[27.3] The\nFaith-token is a piece of machinery too suggestive to be {28}\noverlooked by poets and dramatists of more refined art than the\nmedi\u00e6val romancers. Davenant mentions an emerald, not set like the\nCarpathian carbuncle on a palace tower, but worn by a lady, and\ngrowing pale when her husband is unfaithful. Massinger\u2019s play of _The\nPicture_ turns upon a portrait of his wife given to the parting\nknight, Mathias, by \u201ca great scholar,\u201d or magician, with these\ninstructions:\n\n \u201cCarry it still about you, and as oft\n As you desire to know how she\u2019s affected,\n With curious eyes peruse it: while it keeps\n The figure it now has, entire and perfect,\n She is not only innocent in fact,\n But unattempted; but if once it vary\n From the true form, and what\u2019s now white and red\n Incline to yellow, rest most confident\n She\u2019s with all violence courted, but unconquer\u2019d;\n But if it all turn black, \u2019tis an assurance\n The fort by composition or surprise\n Is forced or with her free consent surrender\u2019d.\u201d\n\nI do not propose, however, to trace the Faith-token through\nliterature. If a gift of doubtful benefit to a jealous lover, many a\nliterary artist in search of a plot has found it useful. Our business\nis with the Life-token, to which we may now return. Tales of\nlife-tokens credited as facts are not very numerous. Perhaps one or\ntwo of the stories already mentioned may be included in that category.\nThe rest may be treated together with superstitions and customs.\n\nIn many variants of the Perseus cycle, as well as in many of the\n_m\u00e4rchen_ cited in the present chapter, we have found the life-token\nto be a tree planted before or at the time of the hero\u2019s birth, or\nsometimes planted by himself or merely indicated by him. In the\nSmyrn\u00e6an tale, it will be {29} remembered, the queen plants a pumpkin\non the birth of each of her sons. The pumpkin brings forth one fruit,\nwherein the strength of the boy resides; and when it is cut the boy\nfalls ill. As I have already pointed out, the pumpkin would seem here\nto be the life itself, and not merely the life-token. A distinction\nbetween the life and the life-token is generally observed in\n_m\u00e4rchen_. On the one hand, we have the story of Punchkin with his\nhidden soul, in which the magician, or demoniacal enemy of the hero,\ncannot be slain by any evil inflicted on his own body. His soul, or\nlife, must be sought out in a distant spot where, enveloped in various\ncoverings and protected by numerous defences, is a parrot, or an egg,\nto destroy which is to kill the magician. On the other hand, we have\nin the variants of _The King of the Fishes_ and other types the\nmysterious token left at home while its owner sallies forth in search\nof adventures. If he fall, or suffer reverses, the token at home, if a\ntree or a flower, withers; if a knife, or a phial of liquid, or some\nother article, it drops blood, or rusts, or changes colour, or\nindicates in some other manner its sympathy with the hero\u2019s fortunes.\n\nThis broad distinction is natural in a story the plot of which is made\nto depend upon it. It is easy to understand, however, that the\ndistinction could not be maintained in any corresponding practical\nsuperstition. To assume, for instance--what is quite possible--that\nthe lives of the monks of Saint Maurice were actually believed to be\nbound up with those of the fishes in the fishpond of the monastery,\nhow could it be determined whether a fish\u2019s death caused the death of\none of the brethren or only betokened it? In the course of the\nfollowing pages we shall meet with many cases of sympathy between a\nchild {30} and a tree or other object. The child\u2019s death and the\nwithering of the tree, or some other corresponding change, are\nbelieved to be coincident. Experience will very soon show that\nsometimes the injury may happen to the child, sometimes to the\nlife-token. If the superstition survive, it can only do so by\nsupposing that both alike are vulnerable, and that the consequences of\nan injury to either are mysteriously transmitted to the other.[30.1]\nEven in a story, however, the distinction between the Life-token and\nthe \u201cExternal Soul,\u201d as Mr. Frazer calls it, is not always maintained.\nIn the tale of Prince Lionheart, referred to at the beginning of this\nchapter, the hero derives his origin from a barleycorn. His\nlife-token, multiplied in a lavish oriental manner by three, consists\nof three barley-plants. It is noteworthy that he directs that every\none of them shall be carefully tended, for so long as they flourished\nhe would be alive and well, and, on the contrary, if they drooped,\nmisfortune would be at hand: implying that his life and prosperity\nwere dependent upon them. His external soul proper is a sword. When\nits hilt comes off, his head falls, and at the same instant the ear of\neach of the barley-plants snaps. Other stories may easily be recalled\nwhere a plant as the hero\u2019s life-token is commended to the special\ncare of the friend or kinsman left behind, as if injury to the plant\nwould affect its absent owner. We shall, accordingly, be justified in\ntreating the Life-token and the External Soul as almost always one and\nthe same thing in belief and custom.\n\nIn the _Popol Vuh_, the twin divinities, Hun Ahpu and Xbalanque, whose\nbirth I have already described in Chapter v., on starting for the\nrealm of Xibalba to avenge their {31} father\u2019s death, plant each a\ncane in the midst of their grandmother\u2019s dwelling, that she may know\nby its flourishing or fading whether they are alive or dead.[31.1]\nAccording to a tradition of the province of Berri, in central France,\na local saint, Honor\u00e9 de Buzan\u00e7ais, who flourished at the end of the\nthirteenth century, in setting forth on a journey told his mother\nthat, by means of a certain laurel which had been planted the day he\nwas born, she would at any time be able to learn how he fared. The\ntree would languish if he were ill, and wither if he died. He was\nmurdered, and the laurel withered at the same instant.[31.2] On the\nisland of Tahiti, a sacred tree, resembling the banian of India, was\nsaid to have shot forth a new tendril at the birth of one of the kings\nwhose inauguration is described by Ellis; and this branch reached the\nground when the inauguration took place.[31.3] So Suetonius tells us\nthat thrice when the mother of the Emperor Vespasian gave birth to a\nboy a certain ancient oak-tree belonging to the Flavian _gens_ and\nsacred to Mars put forth a new shoot; and when the Emperor himself was\nborn the shoot was of such vitality that it grew to the size of the\nold trunk itself.[31.4]\n\nThese are legends. In actual life, among the Maori, when the\nnavel-string came off a newborn child, the child was carried to a\npriest. The cord was buried in a sacred place; and over it a young\nsapling was planted, which was expressly regarded as the babe\u2019s \u201cSign\nof Life,\u201d or life-token.[31.5] Another account states that the\nplacenta was buried and a tree planted over the spot. \u201cInstances have\nbeen known of territorial right being claimed in consequence {32} of\nthe placenta and umbilical cord having been buried in the vicinity,\nthe tree being pointed to as evidence.\u201d Elsewhere in New Zealand the\ncord was buried by the mother at the foot of some out-of-the-way tree\nor bush, with certain mystic words. If the tree or bush decayed or\ndied, the child would not be expected to live long.[32.1] In Southern\nCelebes a cocoa-nut is planted at the child\u2019s birth, and watered with\nthe water in which the cord and after-birth have been washed. The\ntree, as it grows up, is called the \u201ccontemporary\u201d of the child.[32.2]\nIn Old Calabar a palm-tree is planted, so as to grow with the child,\nand the after-birth is buried beside it.[32.3] The superstition is not\nconfined to these distant lands. In Pomerania the after-birth is\nburied at the foot of a young tree; in Mecklenburg it is merely cast\nthere; in either case the child will grow with the tree, and thrive as\nit thrives.[32.4]\n\n{33}\n\nIt is obvious that in all these cases there is a connection\nestablished between the child and the tree by means of the placenta.\nThe reasons for planting a tree are probably twofold. Not only is it\ndifficult to preserve the after-birth itself; it is also desired to\nbring to bear upon the child all the gracious influences of Nature, to\naid in his growth and development. This is done by the intervention of\nthe young tree, which thus becomes more than a mere index of his\nfortunes. The placenta is, in fact, a portion of the child\nincorporated in the tree. A caul, which is as much a portion of the\nchild as the placenta, and which, unlike the latter, is easy of\npreservation, was formerly regarded in this country as an index of the\nhealth of the person who was so lucky as to be born with it. While he\nremained alive and well, it was firm and crisp; if he sickened or\ndied, it became flaccid and relaxed.[33.1] Any fragment of a human\nbeing may, indeed, become his life-token. A pathetic instance is on\nrecord of a boy in Grafton County, New Hampshire, who, early in the\npresent century, was badly scalded, so that a piece of his skin, fully\none inch in diameter, sloughed off, and was carefully treasured by his\nmother. When the boy came of age he left home, and was never heard of\nafter; but his mother used from time to time to examine the skin,\npersuaded that so long as it was sound her son was alive and well, and\nthat it would not begin to decay until his death. She died about 1843;\nand thenceforth her daughters kept the skin for their brother\u2019s sake\nas she had done, and with the same notions about its preservation and\ndecay.[33.2] In these examples we do not find the idea of the External\nSoul. {34} The object, whether caul or skin, is kept merely to obtain\ntidings of the absent. It is not united for his benefit to any living\norganism like a tree; nor does it seem to be necessary to his life to\npreserve it from harm.\n\nSometimes, however, the belief connected with the rite of planting at\na birth is more obscure, whether from the fault of those who have\nrecorded it, or because it has faded out of the memory of those who\nperform it. The Fiji islanders bury the navel-string with a cocoa-nut,\nwhich is intended to germinate and grow. The tree produced is\nconsidered the property of the child.[34.1] Among the tribes of\nGuatemala, and also of Virginia, the cord was cut upon an ear of\nmaize, and the grains thus besprent with blood were sown in the\ninfant\u2019s name.[34.2] The umbilical cord of an Aztec boy was buried\nwith mimic weapons in a place where a battle might be expected to take\nplace on a future day. A girl\u2019s cord, with domestic implements proper\nto her sex, was buried under a _metate_, or stone whereon the maize\nwas crushed.[34.3] The interpretation of none of these presents any\ndifficulty, save that of the Aztec boy. But if we regard the cord as\nhis external soul, we may suppose that it was either put into a safe\nplace, or was expected to strengthen and encourage its owner on the\nday of battle. The Badouj husband, in Java, buries the placenta in the\nforest. We are told nothing as to {35} the situation in which it is\nburied; if not at the foot of a tree, it is probably intended to be\nhidden securely away.[35.1]\n\nIn other cases there appears no physical contact with the infant, or\nwith the accompaniments of its birth, though the intention is plain.\nOn the island of Bali, in the East Indies, a cocoa-palm is simply\nplanted. It is called the child\u2019s \u201cLife-plant,\u201d and is believed to\ngrow up equally with him. When twins are born, in some Zulu tribes,\nthe father plants two euphorbia-trees near the door of the hut. Among\nthe Mbengas of Western Africa, when two babes are born on the same\nday, two trees of the same kind are planted, and the people dance\nround them. \u201cThe life of each of the children is believed to be bound\nup with the life of one of the trees; and if the tree dies, or is\nthrown down, they are sure that the child will die soon.\u201d The life of\na newborn child is united by some of the Papuans with that of the tree\nby driving a pebble into the bark. \u201cThis is supposed to give them\ncomplete mastery over the child\u2019s life; if the tree is cut down, the\nchild will die.\u201d[35.2] Among the Sakalava of Madagascar, a tree called\nH\u00e0zom\u00e0nitra (Fragrant Wood) is planted at the birth of a first\nchild. This is said to be a witness that the father acknowledges it as\nhis own.[35.3] But had he not acknowledged it, the child must\npresumably have been put to death, so that this can hardly be the real\nreason. According to the Babylonian Talmud it was a Hebrew practice to\nplant a cedar at the birth of a boy, and {36} a pine at the birth of a\ngirl.[36.1] On the New Marquesas Islands a breadfruit-tree is set\napart for the use of every infant at its birth; or, if the parents be\ntoo poor to do this, a sapling is immediately planted. The fruit of\nthe tree is taboo to every one save the child; even the parents dare\nnot touch it.[36.2] Among several European nations it is, or has been\nup to recent times, the custom to plant a tree at the birth of a\nchild. When the poet Vergil was born, his parents are said to have\nplanted a poplar, in the hope that, as that tree overtopped all the\nrest, their son\u2019s greatness would outstrip all others\u2019. Poplars are\nstill set in the neighbourhood of Turin when a girl is born; and they\nbecome in after-years the maiden\u2019s dower. In Switzerland an apple-tree\nis set for a boy, a pear or a nut for a girl; and it is believed that\nas the young tree flourishes, so will the child. In Aargau, in\nparticular, it was the custom, not many years back, to plant a\nfruit-tree on the land of the commune for every infant that was born;\nand if a father were enraged with a son who was at a distance, and\ntherefore out of his reach, he would go to the field and cut down the\ntree planted at his son\u2019s birth.[36.3] In England we still hear\nsometimes of trees being planted at a birth. Count de Gubernatis, I\nknow not on what authority, asserts that there are families in Russia,\nGermany, England, France, and Italy, whose practice it is to plant at\nthe birth of a {37} child a fruit-tree, which is loved and tended with\nspecial care as the symbol of the child and of the child\u2019s fate.[37.1]\nOnly thirty years ago it was the custom of the good folk of Li\u00e9ge to\nplant a tree in the garden when a child was born: a custom which, it\nseems, is still continued in some parts of Belgium.[37.2] In the\nprovince of Canton, in China, although we are not informed that trees\nare planted on the like occasions, we seem to have a relic of some\nsuch practice in the superstition requiring a child\u2019s fortune to be\ntold, in order to ascertain the particular idol or tree to which he\nbelongs. It is thought that a tree is planted in the spirit-world to\nrepresent the life in this world, \u201cand that the child is as much the\nfruit of the tree as it is that of the womb.\u201d[37.3] It is difficult to\nsee how such a thought could have originated, unless it were connected\nwith the planting of a tree in this world when the babe was born.\n\nNor is it only at a birth that the life-token is planted. Among the\nEnglish-speaking population on the eastern shore of the Chesapeake,\nwhen one of a family leaves home, a bit of live-for-ever is stuck in\nthe ground to indicate the fortune of the absent one. It will flourish\nif he prosper; otherwise it will wither or die.[37.4] An Italian {38}\nwork falsely attributed to Cornelius Agrippa gives the following\nprescription for divining the health of a person far distant: Gather\nonions on the Eve of Christmas, and put them on an altar, and under\nevery onion write the name of one of the persons as to whom\ninformation is desired. When planted, the onion that sprouts the first\nwill clearly announce that the person whose name it bears is\nwell.[38.1] In the north-east of Scotland, when potatoes were dug for\nthe first time in the season a stem was put for each member of the\nfamily, the father first, the mother next, and the rest in order of\nage. Omens of the prosperity of the year were drawn from the number\nand size of the potatoes growing from each stem.[38.2] Every Roman\nemperor solemnly planted on the Capitol a laurel, which was said to\nwither when he was about to die. It was the custom, too, of a\nsuccessful general at his triumph to plant in a shrubbery set by Livia\na laurel which was believed to fade after his death.[38.3] Marco Polo\nrecords that the Great Khan planted the highways through his realm\nwith rows of trees, for the purpose of marking the roads; and that he\ndid it all the more readily because his astrologers and diviners told\nhim that he who planted trees lived long.[38.4] Why, unless his life\nwere bound up with the trees he planted? In British Guiana, when young\nchildren are betrothed, as is the custom among the aborigines, trees\nare planted by the respective parties in witness of the contract. {39}\nIf either tree happen to fade, the child it belongs to will die.[39.1]\nThe custom exists also in Germany. At Hochheim, Einzingen, and other\nplaces in the neighbourhood of Gotha, a bridal pair plants at the\nwedding, or shortly after, two young trees on the land of the commune.\nIf either of the trees perish, the spouse who planted it will shortly\ndie.[39.2] \u201cOn certain occasions the Dyaks of Borneo,\u201d says Mr.\nFrazer, quoting Professor Wilken, \u201cplant a palm-tree, which is\nbelieved to be a complete index of their fate. If it flourishes they\nreckon on good fortune, but if it withers or dies they expect\nmisfortune.\u201d[39.3] What else than this can be the true meaning of the\nceremony practised by some of the Australian blacks when a boy attains\npuberty? His two upper front teeth are knocked out, and his mother\ncarefully inserts them in the fork of the topmost branches of a young\ngum-tree, which thereupon becomes taboo.[39.4] {40} The tree is not,\nindeed, newly planted, but, as in the Papuan practice cited just now,\nthe boy\u2019s fate is united with it. If a gipsy babe do not thrive in\nTransylvania, the mother drops a little of her own blood in its mouth,\nand rubs its saliva in the hole of a tree, repeating a rhyming formula\nadjuring the child to grow like that tree.[40.1] When a child has been\npassed, for hernia or some other disease, through a young tree split\nfor the purpose, the tree is forthwith bound up and plastered with mud\nor clay so that it may grow together again; and according as this\ntreatment is successful on the tree, the child is expected to recover.\nThis, I need hardly remind the reader, is a superstition very widely\nspread in Europe. In Mecklenburg, and most likely elsewhere, it is\nbelieved that if the tree be felled the child will die.[40.2] So, too,\namong the Buryats of Siberia, a shaman on the eve of his first\ndedication cuts a magical stick from a growing birch. It must be of\nsome size, since a horse\u2019s head is required to be carved at the top,\nand a horse\u2019s knee and hoof at the lower end. It must be so cut that\nthe birch will not wither from the excision, for that would be an ill\nomen for the shaman.[40.3] His life, or at least his professional\nsuccess, is thus bound up with the life of the tree.\n\nOf other species of life-tokens we may note the following. A tradition\nof the Mojave Indians of Arizona relates that two twin brothers, in\nstarting to hunt, hung a quiver up by the lodge fire, and each tied a\nlong hair (no doubt one of his own) across the doorway. \u201cIf you see\nthat quiver fall,\u201d they said to their wives, \u201cthat is a sign we are\ndead; and {41} if the hairs break, we die.\u201d The brothers are\ntreacherously murdered; the quiver falls and the hairs are\nbroken.[41.1] In this case we have the hairs originally part of the\nheroes\u2019 bodies, and the quiver was their property. Thus the reason why\nthese objects could be made life-tokens was the sympathy they retained\nfrom their erewhile close connection with the brothers. This is,\nhowever, by no means a necessity: the mere superscription of the name\nis sufficient, as in the onion-charm cited a page or two back, to\nestablish the requisite sympathy. Tiglath-Uras, an Assyrian king,\ncaused a seal of crystal to be engraven with his name and title, and\nwith the words: \u201cWhosoever buries my writing and my name, may Assur\nand Rimmon destroy his name and his land! Whoever makes the seal\nlegible ensures the preservation of my life.\u201d[41.2] Here the seal,\nwith its inscription, bears the aspect of the king\u2019s external soul;\nand it must be remembered in this connection that archaic belief\nregards the name as a part of its owner. A similar character attaches,\nin the opinion of many savages, to a portrait. This is the foundation\nof the belief in witchcraft by means of a puppet or picture.[41.3] But\nif the writing of a name or the accuracy of a likeness were {42}\nimportant, it is clear that the superstition could not be traced far\nback into the lower culture, and witchcraft could only be practised by\naccomplished artists. Accordingly, it is enough to attribute the name\nof the man to the object whereby it is proposed to represent him. In\nThuringia, if it be desired to know whether absent children or other\nkinsmen be still living, all that is necessary is to stick a loaf of\nbread with ears of corn before putting it into the oven to bake. Each\nof the ears is designated by the name of one of the absent concerning\nwhom inquiry is made. If any of the ears be scorched in the process of\nbaking, the person symbolised is assuredly dead; if not, he is\nliving.[42.1] Either some such divination, or that lively presentation\nwhich is but a step short of it, was recorded by Mr. Backhouse, who,\nin visiting Tasmania, noticed one day a native woman arranging some\nflat oval stones, about two inches wide and marked with black and red\nlines. He learned that these represented absent friends, and one\nlarger than the rest stood for a fat native woman on Flinders Island,\nknown by the name of Mother Brown.[42.2]\n\nAs in the _m\u00e4rchen_ we have reviewed, so in sagas and in practical\nsuperstition, mere ownership or the wearing of an object sets up a\nconnection with it, which remains even after parting with its\npossession, and will render it an efficient life-token. This has been\nalready illustrated in the quiver of the Mojave saga. In a legendary\nhistory of Saint Elizabeth of Hungary, Duke Lewis, her husband, when\nsetting out for the Crusade, sent her a ring, the stone of {43} which\nwould break when misfortune happened to him. It is curious that in\nfact, if the Count de Montalembert\u2019s investigations may be trusted,\nthe duke told his wife that if he sent her his ring it would be a\ntoken that some misfortune had occurred.[43.1] In Italy it is believed\nthat if a woman take off her wedding-ring, her husband will run some\nserious risk.[43.2] A Hungarian superstition declares that a garnet\nremains of a beautiful red colour when its wearer is well, but turns\npale if he be sick or ailing.[43.3] But here the line between the\nLife-token, or the External Soul, and the Fetish becomes very narrow.\nSo a Shawnee prophet tried to persuade Tanner that the fire in his\nlodge was intimately connected with his life. At all seasons and in\nall weathers it was to remain alight; for if he suffered it to be\nextinguished, his life would be at an end.[43.4] Of a similar\ncharacter is the Negro luck-ball, so graphically described, with the\nmaking thereof, by Miss Owen, and of which a specimen was obtained by\nher for Mr. Leland. We will not here inquire into the composition of\nthis nasty but magical article; we will rest satisfied with knowing\nthat it receives the name of the person for whom it is intended, and\ncontains his soul. It is usually carried about by its owner; and the\nagonies of a Negress who thought she had lost her ball are set forth\nin Miss Owen\u2019s book with humour. \u201cNo ball could be found. Then Aunt\nMymee went wild. Her morning duties were forgotten, she ran hither and\nthither looking in all possible and impossible places of concealment,\nand obstinately refusing to state what she had lost. Finally, with a\ngroan of despair, she flung herself down on her cabin floor in a {44}\ncowering heap and quavered out that she would be better off in her\ngrave, for an enemy had stolen her luck-ball, and her soul as well as\nher luck was in it.\u201d[44.1] The North American Indians and many other\nsavages carry such objects; and of the same kind would appear to have\nbeen that wonderful stone in the Chinese story, which contained\nninety-two grottoes representing the allotted years of its owner\u2019s\nlife.[44.2]\n\nMr. Frazer, in the remarkable work to which I have been indebted for\nnumerous illustrations in the course of this chapter, refers to the\nbelief on the part of many peoples in the lower culture that the lives\nof individual men and women are bound up with those of various\nanimals. In Rome the animals in question were snakes; and the\nsuperstition was so widely spread that, according to Pliny, they\nmultiplied to an extent which would have rendered it impossible to\nmake head against their fecundity, if their numbers had not been kept\ndown by occasional conflagrations. The snake was, in fact, the\n_genius_ of a man--his external soul, and therefore was carefully\nguarded from all harm.[44.3] The Zulus also believe in an _ihlozi_, or\nmysterious serpent, belonging to every man. It is usually invisible,\nunderground; but it may be killed, and then the man must die. In other\nparts of the {45} world there is no such monopoly: all sorts of\nanimals are looked upon by different members of the same clan as their\nsecond selves. Mr. Frazer frames from this a theory of totemism which\nit is foreign to my present purpose to examine. Whatever may be\nthought of the theory, it is clear that some aspects of the Totem, the\nExternal Soul, and the Fetish approach one another very nearly, and\nrequire a closer study than they have yet received from any scientific\nanthropologist, with the exception of the distinguished author of _The\nGolden Bough_.\n\nComing back to the Life-token proper, it would seem that it is\nsometimes connected, not with the individual concerned, but with the\nrelative or friend left behind. When a Zulu warrior goes on a hostile\nexpedition his wife hangs up her own sleeping-mat against the door or\nwall of the hut. If the shadow be cast sharp and clear, her husband is\nwell; if otherwise, \u201che will never look upon the sun again.\u201d[45.1] The\nCoptic Christian legends contain the same plentiful supply of miracles\nwhich the accounts of other saints furnish. The life of the Coptic\nsaint Shnudi, by his disciple Visa, relates that another saint, Mar\nThomas, foretold to Shnudi that the latter should be informed of Mar\nThomas\u2019s death by the breaking in two of the stone whereon Shnudi used\nto sit and meditate.[45.2] In this case {46} Mar Thomas appoints the\nlife-token; and he displays a lofty recklessness about the condition\nof furniture which does not belong to him. But the appointment by the\nperson whose life is the subject of inquiry is not usual, where the\ntoken is in no way connected with him. The friend left behind can\ngenerally manage a life-token without his assistance. Frequently,\nhowever, the aid of a sorcerer is called in. Among the western\nislanders of Torres Straits the sorcerer on these occasions goes\nthrough some jugglery with a crocodile\u2019s tooth, which he pretends to\nswallow and bring out again through his hand. After this he sends it\non a journey in the direction where the man is supposed to be, and\ndivines his life or death by the condition of the tooth when it\nreturns.[46.1] In Brittany a sailor\u2019s wife who has been long without\ntidings of her husband makes a pilgrimage to one of the shrines\ninnumerable in that country, and lights before the saints a taper\nwherewith she has provided herself. If her husband be yet alive and\nwell, it burns with a clear, steady flame; otherwise the flame will be\npoor and intermittent, and will go out.[46.2] John Banks, a dramatist\nof the Restoration, refers to one form of the superstition still, or\nvery lately, living in Scotland, as well as in other parts of Europe.\nThe passage runs as follows:--\n\n \u201cDouglas.\n  Last night, no sooner was I laid to rest,\n  But just three drops of blood fell from my nose\n  And stain\u2019d my pillow, which I found this morning,\n  And wondered at.\n\n Queen Mary.\n          That rather does betoken\n  Some mischief to thyself.{47}\n\n Douglas.\n             Perhaps to cowards,\n  Who prize their own base lives; but to the brave,\n  \u2019Tis always fatal to the friend they love.\u201d[47.1]\n\nStrictly speaking, this only announces the deaths of near relations:\nit would be too dreadful if a man\u2019s whole acquaintance made known\ntheir deaths by bleeding him, or, as it is believed in Denmark, by\npinching him and thereby causing blue spots on his body.[47.2] Second\nsight, however, also well known in Scotland, was not confined to\nkindred; but it is of a ghostly nature, not dependent on material\nobjects.\n\nClosely connected with the Life-token, as we have already seen, is\ndivination concerning the prospects of life of persons who are not\nabsent. This is a wide subject; and here we can only select a few\nexamples among those whose form is similar to those of the Life-token.\nThe Thuringian practice of divining as to absent members of the family\nseems to be one of several Teutonic methods of divination by the\nbaking of bread. The decrees of Burchard of Worms, issued probably\nearly in the eleventh century, refer to the omen drawn on the first of\nJanuary by baking a loaf of bread in the name of any one and noting\nhow it rises and whether it becomes compact and light. Another\npractice is described, of sweeping the hearth and placing grains of\nbarley on the heated place: if the grains popped, they indicated\ndanger; otherwise, if they remained quiet.[47.3] {48} At Rauen, in the\nnorth of Germany, if a newly baked loaf have a crack, one of the\nfamily will die.[48.1] In Suffolk, to overturn a loaf in the oven is\nto have a death in the house.[48.2] In Saxony on the Bohemian border\nthe same augury is obtained by making as many little cakes as there\nare persons in the house, giving to each cake the name of one of the\npersons, and punching a hole in it with your finger. He whose hole\ncloses up in baking will die.[48.3] In Hungary on Saint Lucien\u2019s Day a\nfeather is stuck in each cake, and the death-augury is drawn if the\nfeather be burnt in baking. On Christmas Eve in many places every one\neats a nut and fills the shell with water. If the shell be dry by the\nnext morning he must die during the year.[48.4]\n\nDivination from the burning of candles is well known. On Twelfth\nNight, in some parts of Ireland, as for example in Leitrim and\nRoscommon, rushes were gathered and made into rushlights, each of the\nlength of six inches. They were stuck into a cake of cow-dung and\nnamed from the members of the family. Then they were all lighted, and\nthe family knelt around them, telling their beads. The taper that\nburnt out first indicated who should die soonest.[48.5] So Meleager\u2019s\nlife, according to the classical story, departed when the brand\nexpired whereon it depended. In Thuringia, if an altar-light go out of\nitself, one of the priests will die; but it does not appear whether\nthe candle must be entirely consumed.[48.6] In some towns of {49}\nNorth Germany it is a common practice on a child\u2019s birthday to give\nhim a cake with a \u201cLife-light\u201d placed on it. The light must not be\nblown out, but suffered to burn to the end.[49.1] This is contrary to\nthe general rule at Chemnitz, and elsewhere, which declares that when\na candle goes out of itself, some one in the house will die--a\nsuperstition especially regarded on Christmas Eve.[49.2] In Iceland,\nif a man let a light die out slowly, he will have a long\ndeath-struggle.[49.3] On the other hand, the Romans, if we may trust\nPlutarch, never extinguished a lamp, but suffered it to burn\nout.[49.4] Omens of this kind are frequently drawn at weddings. Two\ncandles represent the bride and bridegroom: the one whose candle first\nexpires will die first. Such is the belief in Thuringia and Esthonia,\nas well as in Italy. Among the Southern Slavs and among the Bretons\nthe altar-candle opposite either of the spouses during the ceremony is\nthe one whose conduct in this respect is regarded. At Chemnitz it was\ncustomary to allow the light to burn clean out in the bride-chamber,\nperhaps for the same reason.[49.5]\n\n{50}\n\nIn Denmark, Saint John\u2019s-wort (_hypericum_) is gathered on Saint\nJohn\u2019s Day, and the plants are set between the beams under the roof.\nIf one of them grow upwards toward the roof, he whom it represents\nwill have a long life; if downward, sickness and death are\nbetokened.[50.1] The Saxons of Transylvania, and the Hungarians, are\nsaid to place as many billets of wood as there are members of the\nfamily present on Saint Sylvester\u2019s Night (New Year\u2019s Eve) in the open\nair on or against a wall or a tree, giving each billet the name of a\nperson. Any of them falling before the morning forecasts the death of\nhim whose billet falls. Or a rag is thrown on a tree, and if it be\nthere in the morning the thrower expects luck in the coming year. On\nSaint John\u2019s Day wreaths are made of marsh-marigolds and thrown singly\nthrice on the roof. If anybody\u2019s wreath remain up, he will die before\nthe next summer.[50.2] The same principle is embodied in the Maori\ncustom of divining by means of sticks. Before they go to war they put\nup two sticks, or two rows of sticks, with certain ceremonies. From\nthe way in which the wind blows the sticks or the manner in which they\nfall, if thrown, omens are drawn as to the success of the war, or the\nfate of the inquirer.[50.3] The Gipsies of the Danubian countries\ndivine as to the fate of their relatives by putting\nflowers--apparently willow flowers--in a sieve on Saint George\u2019s Eve,\none for each {51} member of the family. He whose flower is found\nwithered the next morning will die first.[51.1] In the Isle of Man, at\nHollantide, \u201cas well as on the last night of the year, ivy-leaves\nmarked with the name of the family were put into water, and if one of\nthe leaves withered it was supposed that the person whose name was on\nit would die before the end of the year.\u201d[51.2]\n\nThe tales and superstitions we have examined in this chapter are\nconclusive as to the wide range of a belief in the mysterious\nconnection of a man\u2019s life and health with some object external to\nhimself. And they point with equal certainty to the belief that this\nconnection originates in some relationship, either natal or\nestablished subsequently to birth by possession or ownership, or by\nappointment of the person concerned. In other words, the external\nobject is believed to be, or to contain, a part of the man himself, or\nthe man and the external object are regarded as two parts of a greater\nwhole. This is the reason why, in _m\u00e4rchen_ belonging to _The King of\nthe Fishes_ and other types, the tree growing in the garden at home is\nan index of the adventurer\u2019s fate in the palace of the Medusa-witch.\nBoth the tree and the hero are sprung from the magical fish; both are\nof his substance; and hence their sympathy. So, among the Maories and\nin Pomerania, when the navel-string or after-birth is buried and a\ntree planted over it, the latter would be conceived to absorb the\nsubstance of the object at its root--that is to say, of something\nwhich is already part of the child himself--and in that way become\nconnected with him. Our evidence, though extending from Polynesia and\nMelanesia {52} to the East Indies, though good for Germany and for\nportions of the American continent, does not directly establish the\npractice of such burials as universal. But such a custom is a fair\ninference wherever we find the planting of a tree at birth, especially\nwhere, as in the majority of cases, the tree is looked upon as\nbetokening the child\u2019s fate. Yet the custom could not have been one of\nthe most archaic. It must have been unknown so long as mankind were\nwanderers having no settled places of abode or defined territory.\nEarlier than this, therefore, must have been the belief that some\nother relic such as hair, weapons, ornaments or clothes, which had\nbeen in contact with their owner\u2019s body, or even some more arbitrary\nthing appointed by him, acquired the mysterious connection of which I\nam speaking. By constant use, or by habitual wear, things not\noriginally part of a man would become inseparably associated with him\nin the minds of all his acquaintance, impregnated with his\npersonality, identified with his corporeal presence. After a while\nmere ownership would be enough to warrant the ascription of this\nquality, at least to any portable object. The Maori claims of\nterritorial right, based upon the burial of the claimant\u2019s after-birth\nand navel-string, are instances of the subtle bond in native thought\nbetween ownership and a personal substance like that which was\nsupposed to penetrate the trees whose existence was appealed to as\nevidence. True, these claims could only be made by members of a\nsettled community, or of one whose limits of wandering were fixed. But\nthe state of thought they disclose is thoroughly archaic, rooted in a\nstill ruder past.\n\nNot only, however, is a man\u2019s property credited with the mysterious\nsympathy which enables it to become his life-token. {53} It is not\neven necessary for him to appoint a life-token for himself, whether\npart of his property or not. Both in the stories and in actual life,\nand that very low down in savagery, a kinsman is represented as able\nto appoint a life-token, or at all events to divine, by the condition\nof a perfectly arbitrary object, what is the fate of an absent person.\nThis power is with one exception limited to a kinsman. In the last\nresort it is possible to obtain tidings of a distant friend through a\nsorcerer. Here other beliefs are brought into play. Setting this\nexceptional case aside, we may class all the others together under the\nheads of Life-tokens--\n\n 1. By original corporeal connection with the absent person.\n\n 2. By virtue of his ownership.\n\n 3. By his appointment.\n\n 4. By corporeal connection with a kinsman of the absent person.\n\n 5. By virtue of a kinsman\u2019s ownership.\n\n 6. By a kinsman\u2019s appointment.\n\nThe appointment of a life-token not belonging to the person concerned,\nor his kinsman, was, we may assume, at first by a magical formula, as\nin the instance of the taboo set upon the banana by the twins in the\nMelanesian story. In this way a consecration to the speaker, an\n\u1f00\u03bd\u03ac\u03b8\u03b5\u03bc\u03b1, was performed, which would have the effect of ownership. In\ncourse of time, and of the changes wrought by advancing civilisation,\nthe taboo would be forgotten; and a simple declaration of the\nintention to make the object his life-token would remain. The cases of\nappointment thus resolve themselves into ownership; and ownership, as\nwe have seen, is nothing but an extension of the idea of {54}\ncorporeal connection. The reason why the corporeal connection with a\nkinsman, or his ownership of the life-token, is equivalent to that of\nthe absent hero, is because the kinsman, being of the same stock as\nthe hero, is deemed to have an original corporeal bond with him like\nthat of the tree in the _m\u00e4rchen_ growing from the bones or scales of\nthe fish from whose flesh the hero is sprung. They are both of the\nsame substance, two parts of a greater whole. This will be brought out\nmore clearly as we proceed. We are then face to face with the question\nwhy separated portions of the same substance should remain in such\nsympathy with one another that the condition of the one will betoken\nthe condition of the other. To explain this we must enter upon a wider\nsurvey of savage customs and superstitions.\n\n\n\n\n CHAPTER IX.\n WITCHCRAFT: SYMPATHETIC MAGIC.\n\n{55}\n\nThere are certain common folktale incidents we must first of all\nnotice, though it is unnecessary to do so at any great length. One of\nthem is found in a group of tales which I have elsewhere ventured to\nclassify under the name of _The Teacher and his Scholar_. A Greek\nvariant of these, from the island of Syra, referred to in an earlier\nchapter, runs thus: A disguised demon promises children to a childless\nking on condition of his repaying him with the eldest. The demon\nthereupon gives the king an apple, to be eaten, one half by himself\nand the other half by the queen. Three sons are born; and the eldest\nis, notwithstanding all precautions, carried off by the demon. After\nsome time he finds means to escape from his master\u2019s clutches,\naccompanied by a princess whom the demon has held captive. During his\nterm of service he has learned how to transform himself at will; and\non parting for a while from the princess he takes lodgings with an old\nwoman. To make money, he changes into a mule, which his hostess offers\nfor sale; but he charges her to retain the halter. Afterwards he\nchanges into a bath-house, whereof she is to keep the key. By this\nprecaution he is able to return to his own form. Finally he changes\ninto a pomegranate, {56} which his father plucks; but the demon by a\ntrick nearly succeeds in getting possession of it. It falls in pieces,\nand the seeds are scattered. The demon then takes the shape of a hen\nand chickens; whereupon the hero becomes a fox and kills the hen and\nchickens, but loses his eyes, for the hen has eaten two of the seeds.\nHe afterwards recovers his sight and marries the princess.[56.1]\n\nThe incident, here found, of the Transformation-fight occurs all over\nEurope, and as far to the east as India. Its best-known variant is\nembodied in the story of the Second Calender in the _Arabian Nights_;\nbut the _Siddhi-K\u00fcr_ contains one far more ancient, if we have regard\nto the time when it was written down, though more modern in form than\nmany of the most recently collected folktales. Welsh tradition, as we\nhave seen, identifies the incident with the name of Taliessin. Ovid\ndescribes metamorphoses undergone by Metra, daughter of Erisichthon,\nin her flight from the successive masters to whom her ravenous father\nsold her in order to procure himself food.[56.2] But all these tales\nignore the point which is important for our present inquiry, namely,\nthe divisibility of the hero\u2019s person. It comes out, however, quite\nclearly in the story just quoted, {57} and is exhibited in a twofold\nmanner. There is, first, the halter, or bridle, which must be retained\nby the vendor, else the horse, or mule, will not be able to escape and\nreturn to human form. Here the halter is probably the external soul.\nSo long as it is free its owner cannot be held within the purchaser\u2019s\npower. Secondly, there is the pomegranate, which falls into a thousand\npieces. In northern and western Europe, where the pomegranate grows\nnot, a heap of grain takes its place.[57.1] In Cashmere it becomes a\nrose. In the Turkish romance of _The Forty Vezirs_, the rose, in\nfalling, changes to millet.[57.2] The pomegranate bursts, and its\nseeds are scattered; the petals of the rose drop in a shower; the\ngrains of corn or millet are shed abroad. But the hero is still in\nexistence although divided thus. He cannot be destroyed until every\nseed, every petal, every grain has been devoured. So long as a single\nseed, petal, or grain escapes he can be restored to his pristine form.\nIn the same way in a North American tale the hero in the shape of an\neagle is killed, and repeatedly restored from a single feather. The\npower of self-reconstitution from a fragment is frequently attributed\nto wizards, not merely in tales but in living superstitions, and in\nboth tales and superstitions affords a reason for the entire\ndestruction of a magical foe.[57.3] For this cause, too, the hero of\nthe Greek story kills the hen and all the chickens into which the\ndemon transforms himself--a third example in the same tale of personal\ndivisibility.\n\n{58}\n\nThe Helpful Beasts, to whom so many adventurers are indebted in our\nNursery Tales, furnish another incident illustrative of the same\nfaculty. In the Transformation-fight it is not necessary to manifest\nthe continued sympathy of the divided personality; but it is different\nwhen a Helpful Beast offers one of its own limbs as the summons for\naid. Thus an ant will give one of its legs, a bird will give a\nfeather, or a lion one of its hairs, to be burnt, or fumigated, or\nsimply rubbed. On this being done the owner forthwith appears and\nperforms the necessary services.[58.1] In a Tirolese tale the power is\nextended to a human being. A merchant\u2019s daughter having fallen in love\nwith a golden-haired prince, is advised by a great sorceress to\nprocure three hairs from his head and beard, lay them in a jar with\nwarm ashes, and boil the contents a little. The prince would then\nchange into a dove, and fly hurriedly through the window into her\nroom, where she must have a basin of water ready for him. In this he\nwould dip himself and return to his proper form. The spell is\nsuccessful; but we need not follow the lady\u2019s further fortunes.[58.2]\n\n{59}\n\nNor is the incident restricted to _m\u00e4rchen_. A Pomeranian saga\nrecords that a supernatural boar which haunted a pool in the forest of\nKehrberg once fell into a wolf-pit and could not get out. A courageous\nman, hearing its grunting, approached; and the monster begged for\nhelp. When it was released it tore three bristles from its hide, and,\ngiving them to its deliverer, said: \u201cWhen thou art in deadly peril,\nrub these three bristles between thy fingers, and I will be with thee\nforthwith and save thee.\u201d The man was the lord of a manor. He might\nhave been an Irish landlord for harshness; and this promise made him\nworse than ever. Many of his serfs in desperation joined the\nrobber-bands that infested the forest; and one day they caught him in\nan ambush. Nor would he have escaped the punishment of his misdeeds,\nhad he not quickly rubbed the bristles between his fingers. The boar\nwas at his side in an instant, and not one of his enemies escaped. I\nwish I could add that the adventure made him repent of his evil ways.\nHis godless, frantic life continued to the end; and after death he\nnaturally found no rest in the grave. Wherefore, ever since, in\ncompany with his friend the boar, he dwells in the pool and ranges the\nforest, to the no small terror and danger of wayfarers.[59.1]\n\nA belief of the kind of which these are the remains is put to a\npractical use by the natives of Borneo, where it is said that the gift\nof a tiger\u2019s tooth to a chief of the Kinah tribe will make him a\nfriend for life. He will not dare to {60} fail the giver, or to turn\nfalse to him, for fear of being devoured by the beast.[60.1] Here, and\nin the stories, the portion of the animal\u2019s body given away is still\nlinked by sympathy with the rest. What happens to it is felt by the\nbulk. The apparent severance is continuous and real union.\n\nA third incident found in European folktales endows the heroine\u2019s\nsaliva with consciousness like her own. In a Danish tale, when Maiden\nMisery is about to elope with Prince Wanderer from the Kobold who has\nthem both in his power, she heats the oven and puts two pieces of wood\nto stand, one on either side. Then she spits on each of them and\nwhispers something to it. After she and the prince have started, the\nKobold wakes up and inquires: \u201cIs the oven hot, Maiden Misery?\u201d \u201cNo,\nnot yet,\u201d answers one of the pieces of wood, but it sounded as if it\nwere she who answered. The Kobold turned over and went to sleep again.\nAfter a while he awoke again and repeated the question. He got the\nsame answer and went to sleep once more. When he called out again\nthere was no reply. He got up and found the oven quite cold; but\nMaiden Misery and Prince Wanderer had vanished, and so had the\nKobold\u2019s wonderful steed.[60.2] The same device for delaying pursuit\nappears in the Polish _m\u00e4rchen_ of Prince Unexpected. There the\nmaiden spits on one of the window-panes, and her spittle freezes. Then\nshe {61} locks up the room and escapes with the prince. When they are\nwell on their way King Bony awakes, and sends his servants for the\nprince. The spittle answers in his voice: \u201cAnon.\u201d They are thus put\noff twice before the door is broken open, and the spittle on the\nwindow splits with laughter at the disappointed messengers.[61.1] In\nanother story from Poland, a brother desires to wed his sister, and\nmakes her various presents of robes, and a magical car. She shuts\nherself in her room, puts on the dresses, and mounts the car. She\nspits on the ground and commands the saliva to answer with the voice\nof her maid, whom she has secretly sent away. The earth then opens at\nher request and swallows her up. When the brother sends to know if she\nbe ready, the saliva replies: \u201cShe has just drawn one stocking on.\u201d\nThe next time it answers: \u201cShe has just put her dress on: she will be\nquite ready directly.\u201d When the impatient brother himself comes, the\nspittle taunts him in the most intelligent way:--\n\n \u201cThy sister is far beneath;\n This message did she bequeath:\n Earth, open wide! When a sister is bride\n   To her brother, \u2019tis sin.\u201d[61.2]\n\nIn a story from Hesse, H\u00e4nsel and Grethel are in a witch\u2019s power.\nThey run away, but before going Grethel spits in front of the hearth.\nSo when the sleepy witch cries out to ask whether the water will soon\nbe hot, to cook H\u00e4nsel in, the saliva replies: \u201cI am just fetching\nit\u201d; and to subsequent inquiries: \u201cIt\u2019s boiling now,\u201d {62} and \u201cI am\njust bringing it.\u201d At last the spittle is dried up; and, receiving no\nfurther answer, the witch gets out of bed, discovers the real state of\nthe case, and follows the children.[62.1] Among the Kaffirs, an\nequivalent incident represents the misleading agent as tufts of hair.\nThe hero, rescuing his sister and her child from a band of cannibals,\ndirected her to pluck the hair from her head and scatter it about in\ndifferent directions. When the cannibals, coming to look for her,\ncalled out, the tufts of hair answered; and the fugitives gained time\nwhile the seekers were thus confused. Another Kaffir tale represents a\nsingle feather of a certain magical bird as endowed with the entire\npower of the bird after the latter has been swallowed by the\nheroine.[62.2] The Cegihas of North America, a branch of the Sioux,\nhave a legend of a rabbit who overcame the black bears. He visited\ntheir lodge; and at night on departing he left his f\u0153ces all round\nthe door, with instructions to give the scalp-yell as soon as it was\nday. The f\u0153ces accordingly yelled as if a large number of persons\nwere attacking the lodge. The black bear rushed out and was killed by\nthe rabbit.[62.3]\n\nIn this case, too, we are fortunate in being able to produce evidence\nthat the belief on which the tale is grounded is still living. When a\nHungarian Gipsy is pursued as a thief, he scratches his left hand as\nhe runs, and smearing the spurting blood on any convenient object,\n{63} exclaims: \u201cSpeak for me!\u201d In this way he hopes to escape; and the\nmore scars a Gipsy has upon his left hand from this cause the more he\nis honoured for his dexterity in stealing and evading pursuit.[63.1]\n\nIn Grimm\u2019s tale of _The Goose-girl_, which belongs to the cycle of\n_The Substituted Bride_, the maiden\u2019s mother, on parting with her,\ncuts her own finger, and, letting three drops of blood fall upon a\nhandkerchief, hands it to her daughter as a protection. The drops of\nblood speak to her from time to time on the way, though it must be\nowned their observations are not very helpful. When she loses them she\nbecomes powerless, and her waiting-maid ousts her from her place as\nthe bride.[63.2] It is impossible to misapprehend the meaning of the\nthree drops of blood. So long as the maiden keeps them she retains her\nmother\u2019s presence and protection, of which they are more than a\nsymbol.\n\nThe folktales I have just cited present in an ascending series, first,\nthe divisibility of a person, secondly, the continued sympathy of the\nsevered portions with the bulk, and thirdly, the endowment of each of\nthe severed portions with speech and power--in other words, with\nconsciousness and reason. The identification of the severed portions\nwith the whole is thus complete in the stories. Nor are we without\nillustrations in practical superstition of this belief. The two\nexamples already given afford a striking exhibition of the truth which\nI may perhaps be pardoned for insisting on with wearisome iteration,\nthat, namely, of the dependence of folktales on custom and belief. It\nis, however, in the practices of witchcraft that we find the severed\nportions of a person most frequently and completely {64} identified\nwith the whole. To some of these practices we will accordingly now\nturn our attention.\n\nWitchcraft is usually wrought in one or more of three ways--by\nincantations or curses, by symbolic actions, or (and it is this only\nwith which we are now concerned) by acts done upon objects identified\nwith the person intended to be affected. Among these objects severed\nportions of his body take the first rank.\n\nIn the old trials for witchcraft in this country we have full accounts\nof the proceedings then regarded as effectual in causing injury by\nwitches. It is quite likely that some at least of the means mentioned\nin the confessions of the accused were at times actually adopted. But\nwhether actually adopted or not, they are equally valuable for our\npresent purpose, since their efficacy was undoubted. On the 11th\nMarch, 1618-9, two women named Margaret and Philippa Flower were burnt\nalive at Lincoln for sorcery. They had been, with Joan Flower, their\nmother, confidential servants of the Earl and Countess of Rutland, at\nBelvoir Castle. If we might credit their own confession under torture,\nthey had become dissatisfied with their employers, and had employed\nthe Black Art in order to gratify their spite. The mother had a\nfamiliar spirit in the form of a cat, named Rutterkin. Their procedure\nwas to procure a lock of the hair of a member of the Earl\u2019s family, or\nto steal one of his gloves. The hair they burnt; the glove was thrown\nby Joan Flower into boiling water, then repeatedly pricked with a\nknife, and afterwards rubbed on the cat. These performances were\naccompanied with words, bidding Rutterkin go and do some hurt to the\nowner of the glove. Finally, the glove was burnt, and its owner fell\nsick and died. Joan Flower vehemently protested her innocence, {65}\nand asked for bread. Taking a piece, the unfortunate woman wished that\nif she were guilty it might choke her. Immediately, so says the tale,\nshe fell stark dead. Other women were associated in the accusation,\nand their confessions confirmed those of the sisters Margaret and\nPhilippa.[65.1]\n\nThe results of the practices of which these poor girls were convicted\nwere terrible enough to them, if not to their supposed victim. Yet if\ntheir depositions exhausted their knowledge of the modes of witchcraft\nthey cannot have penetrated far into its mysteries. A jealous Italian\nwoman or a mischievous Gipsy, a North American Indian or an Australian\nsavage, could have given them points.\n\nA Sienese or Tuscan maiden, for example, deserted by her lover, will\ntake some of his hair and put it into a toad\u2019s mouth, or round a\ntoad\u2019s legs. The animal is then imprisoned in a covered pot, or else\nit is placed under a potsherd and bound to a tree. While the creature\nlives in this torment, the faithless lover will pine away; and when it\ndies, he will die also.[65.2] Wherefore a lock of hair is the most\nprecious gift, the mark of the highest confidence, a lover or friend\ncan bestow. In the province of Lucca, {66} indeed, it is almost always\nrefused; for even an imprecation uttered over it would render bald the\nhead whereon it had grown; and the women, when they comb their hair,\nnever throw the combings out of window, lest they be bewitched by some\none passing by.[66.1] Nor is less care taken elsewhere in Italy--not\nto say throughout Europe--to burn the combings of the hair oneself or\nto put them in a place of safety. Dr. Pitr\u00e8 remembers a woman at\nPalermo, who, when she was lying sick, having seen a man pick up one\nof her hairs--as she thought, with malicious intent--jumped out of bed\nand followed him in her shift, weeping and begging him to give it back\nto her and not to do her any harm.[66.2] In Tuscany the hair is\noccasionally boiled with a peppercorn and some other substance, the\noperator repeating an incantation consigning the foe to death and the\nsociety of witches. In Friuli the hair and blood of the victim are\nboiled with nails, needles, knives and other pieces of iron.[66.3]\nEven in some parts of England a girl forsaken by her lover is advised\nto get a lock of his hair and boil it. Whilst it is simmering in the\npot he will have no rest.[66.4] In Belgium, as also about Mentone, it\nis {67} possible to bewitch an enemy by putting one of his hairs into\nan egg, and leaving it there to rot; so that one must burn any hairs\nthat fall out or are cut off, or at least spit or blow upon them as a\nprotection against witchcraft before throwing them away.[67.1] In\ncertain parts of Germany and Transylvania the clippings of the hair or\nnails, as well as broken pieces of the teeth, are buried beneath the\nelder tree which grows in the courtyard, or are burnt, or carefully\nhidden, for fear of witches.[67.2] In Poland it is thought possible to\nblind an enemy by threading one of his hairs in a needle which has\nsewed three shrouds, and then passing it through a toad\u2019s eyes, and\nletting the poor brute go.[67.3] In Livonia, if you desire to bewitch\na girl to the extent of preventing her marriage, all that need be done\nis to get hold of one of the pins with which her shift is fastened\nover her breast, wind round it three hairs torn by the roots from her\nhead, and stick the pin in a corner in a northerly direction, or on\nthe first paling of the house, saying: \u201cAs long as this sticks here\nthe girl shall have no suitor.\u201d[67.4] In Hungary and Transylvania\ncontinual strife between a married pair can be secured by laying a\nhair from each of their heads on the head of a corpse. They will have\nno peace until {68} the hairs have decayed away.[68.1] On the other\nhand, if a Magyar suspect another of an intention to injure him\nsecretly, he will possess himself of some hairs belonging to the\nsuspected person, and hang them in the chimney until they disappear in\nthe smoke: the enemy will then have abandoned his evil purpose.[68.2]\nSo likewise among the Pennsylvanian Germans a witch can be disabled by\nsecuring a hair of her head, wrapping it in a piece of paper, and\nfiring a silver bullet into it.[68.3]\n\nWe pay European peoples the compliment of calling them civilised:\namong savages the same methods are adopted. It was the belief of the\nClal-lum, a tribe of British Columbia, that if they could procure the\nhair of an enemy and confine it with a frog in a hole, the head whence\nit came would suffer the torments of the frog.[68.4] And a lock of\nhair in the hands of certain women of the Chilcotin tribe would give\nthem power over the person from whose head the lock was severed.[68.5]\nAny part of the body answers the same purpose among the\nGreenlanders.[68.6] At the opposite extremity of the American\ncontinent the Patagonians burn the hairs brushed out from their heads,\nand all the parings of their nails, for they believe that spells may\nbe wrought upon them by any one who can obtain a {69} piece of\neither.[69.1] In Central Brazil the Baka\u00efr\u00ed of one village fear the\nmedicine-men of another, holding that if they can get any portion of\ntheir hair or blood, they will put it into a poison-calabash and so\ncause illness to the original owner.[69.2] What the inhabitants of the\nisle of Chiloe fear is that a foe will fasten a lock in the seaweed\nwhere the tide flows: hence they often keep their hair very\nshort.[69.3] In the South Sea Islands it was necessary to the success\nof any sorcery to secure something connected with the body of the\nvictim, such as the parings of his nails, a lock of his hair, saliva\nor other secretions, or else a portion of his food. Accordingly, a\nspittoon was always carried by the confidential servant of a chief of\nthe Sandwich Islands to receive his expectorations, which were\ncarefully buried every morning. And the Tahitians used to burn or bury\nthe hair they cut off; and every individual among them had his\ndistinct basket for food.[69.4] Among the Maoris \u201cthe usual way of\nobtaining power over another was to obtain (European fashion) some of\nthe nail-parings, hair, etc., anything of a personal nature to act as\na medium between the bewitched person and the demon. Spells would be\nmuttered over these relics, then they were buried, and as they decayed\nthe victim perished.\u201d[69.5] In the Banks\u2019 Islands \u201cthere are three\nprincipal kinds of charms by which evil was believed to be inflicted\nthrough the power of ghosts.\u201d One of these called _garata_ operated\nthrough fragments of food, bits of hair or nail, \u201cor anything closely\nconnected {70} with the person to be injured. For this reason great\ncare was used to hide or safely dispose of all such things.\u201d[70.1]\nSimilar beliefs and practices obtain in the New Hebrides and the New\nMarquesas.[70.2] At Matuku in Fiji, the priest of the god Tokalau, the\nwind, \u201cpromises the destruction of any hated person in four days, if\nthose who wish his death bring a portion of his hair, dress or food\nwhich he has left.\u201d Happily the doom can be averted by bathing before\nthe fourth day. Most natives take the precaution of hiding the hair\nthey cut off in the thatch of their own huts.[70.3] Some of the Papuan\ninhabitants of Timor-laut were delighted to make use of Mr. Forbes\u2019\nscissors to cut their hair; but they declined to allow the traveller\nto retain any specimens, for they said they would die; and they\ngathered up every scrap they could find.[70.4] Among the Australian\naborigines of Western Victoria an unsuccessful lover who can get a\nlock of the lady\u2019s hair covers it with fat and red clay and carries it\nabout with him for a year. The knowledge of this so depresses her that\nshe pines away and often actually dies. When a husband has, or\nimagines, a grievance against his wife he cuts a lock of her hair\nwhile she sleeps, and tying it to the bone hook of his spear-thrower\nhe covers it with a coating of gum. Then he goes away to a\nneighbouring tribe and stays with them. At the first great meeting of\nthe tribes he gives the spear-thrower to a friend, who sticks it\nupright before the camp-fire every night, and when it falls over, the\nhusband considers it a sign that his wife is dead. This process, and\nthe taunts to which the {71} deserted wife is subjected, seldom fail\nto bring her to a sense of her duty of going to seek her husband,\napologising for her conduct and bringing him home. The natives are\nvery careful to burn their superfluous hair; and locks are only\nexchanged by friends as a mark of affection. If a lock thus obtained\nbe lost it is a very serious matter. The loser of the lock will die;\nand so strong is the belief, that he sometimes does die, unless the\nperson who holds the lock of his hair given in exchange be willing to\nreturn it, and so undo the exchange.[71.1] Other tribes have the like\nsuperstitions. Mr. Howitt records it as a general practice among the\nnatives of the south-east of Australia, and particularly of the\nWotjobaluk tribe, to procure a piece of the victim\u2019s hair, \u201csome of\nhis f\u00e6ces, a bone picked by him and dropped, a shred of his opossum\nrug, or at the present time of his clothes,\u201d for the purpose of\ninjuring him. \u201cIf nothing else can be got, he may be watched until he\nis seen to spit, when his saliva is carefully picked up with a piece\nof wood and made use of for his destruction.\u201d And the writer, a keen\nobserver, adds: \u201cThere is evidently a belief that doing an act to\nsomething which is part of a person, or which even only belongs to\nhim, is in fact doing it to him. This is very clearly brought out by\nthe remark of one of the Wirajuri, who said to me: \u2018You see, when a\nblack-fellow doctor gets hold of something belonging to a man and\nroasts it with things, and sings over it, the fire catches hold of the\nsmell of the man, and that settles the poor fellow.\u2019\u201d Indeed, all over\nAustralia sorcery by means of hair is practised, or at least feared;\nand the same is asserted of the now exterminated Tasmanians.[71.2] In\nSumatra {72} Mr. Forbes once noted a man carefully burying the scraps\nafter paring his finger-nails.[72.1] The approved method of killing a\nfoe at Amboyna is to take some of his hair or clothing, his quid of\nbetel chewed and ejected, or the measure of his footprint, and put it\ninto three bamboo cylinders, one of which is laid beneath a coffin,\nanother buried under the steps of the house, and the third flung into\nthe sea. To injure him it is apparently sufficient to put some of his\nhair into a coffin, or a grave, or to bind it to the tail of a living\nfish and return the creature to the water, or to stuff it into a\ncranny in a house or boat.[72.2] In the Panj\u00e1b some wizards are\nreputed to have the power of killing a woman by cutting off a lock of\nher hair, and afterwards bringing her to life again even though she\nhad been buried.[72.3] And in Sindh no woman will give a lock of her\nhair, even to her husband, for fear of the power he would thus\nobtain.[72.4] Arab women are very careful to bury the parings of their\nnails for fear of witchcraft.[72.5] The Rauti\u00e1s, a caste of Chota\nNagpur in Bengal, partly Aryan and partly Dravidian, on the other\nhand, while convinced that witches can act upon their victims through\nbits of cut hair or nails, are guilty of the suicidal conduct of\nneglecting to preserve or destroy such articles.[72.6] They seem,\nhowever, exceptional in this respect among races in the lower culture.\nOn the Slave Coast of Africa, \u201canything that has belonged {73} to a\nman, especially anything that has formed part of, or has come out of,\nhis body, such as hair-clippings, nail-parings, saliva, or the f\u00e6ces,\ncan be used\u201d to his detriment. \u201cHence it is usual for pieces of hair\nand nails to be carefully buried or burned, in order that they may not\nfall into the hands of sorcerers\u201d; and the saliva of a chief is\ngathered up and hidden or buried.[73.1] The Makololo used to burn or\nbury their hair, lest, in the hands of a witch, it should be used as a\ncharm to afflict the owner with headache.[73.2] Among the Basuto hairs\nor nail-parings of the person aimed at, or drops of his blood which he\nhad not taken the precaution of effacing with his foot where they\nfell, were used by sorcerers in the manufacture of their charms. And\nwithout prolonging the list it may safely be said that this\nsuperstition is rife all over the continent.[73.3] Naturally the Negro\nhas carried it to America. A lady writing half a century ago relates\nan incident which happened on the island of Antigua. A Negro boy had\nbeen drowned; and one of his kinswomen contrived to cut off some hair\nfrom the head of an acquaintance with whom she had a quarrel. This\nhair she placed in the dead boy\u2019s hand just before his coffin was\nscrewed down, at the same time pronouncing the word \u201cRemember.\u201d The\nghastly result was thus described by the Negro who told the tale: \u201cDe\npic\u2019nee jumby trouble he [namely, the lady who had lost her hair] so\ndat he no know war for do, till at last he go out of he head, an\u2019 he\nneber been no good since.\u201d[73.4] Among the Negroes of the {74} United\nStates the recipe for driving an enemy mad is to get one of his hairs\nand slip it inside the bark of a tree. When the bark grows over it his\nintellect is gone for ever. But in fact everything \u201cthat pertains to\nthe body, such as nails, teeth, hair, saliva, tears, perspiration,\ndandruff, scabs of sores even, and garments worn next the person,\u201d is\nemployed in charms. A powerful conjurer told Miss Owen: \u201cI could save\nor ruin you if I could get hold of so much as one eye-winker or the\npeeling of one freckle.\u201d[74.1]\n\nProminent in the magical superstitions of some nations is blood. All\nEurope holds that the pact with the devil must be signed with one\u2019s\nown blood. It is by handing over a portion of his blood that the\nunhappy mortal puts himself in the power of the Father of Evil.\nWithout this gage his covenant would be voidable. A popular allegation\nagainst the Freemasons in some places is that the candidate for\ninitiation is required to paint his own figure on the wall of the\nlodge with blood taken from his finger. If thereafter he betray the\nsecrets he has sworn to keep, he can be slain by stabbing the portrait\nthus made.[74.2] A German saying advises that blood let out of a vein\nshould always be thrown into running water.[74.3] There, of course, it\nwill always be free, it will speedily be lost, and no witchcraft can\nbe wrought upon it. The Transylvanian Saxons declare that if any\nblood, saliva, or suchlike of a living person be put into a coffin\nwith the dead, the former will slowly languish and die.[74.4] The\nblood or saliva, corrupting and decaying with the corpse, reacts upon\nthe living body {75} whence it has been derived. Similar is a Magyar\nprescription for causing barrenness in a woman, namely, by rubbing a\ndead man\u2019s organ with her menses. In Hungary, too, if you wish to\nrender a bridegroom indifferent to his bride, take some of his blood,\nor saliva, and with it smear the soles of the bride\u2019s shoes before the\nwedding, or write his name in his blood on a pigeon\u2019s egg and contrive\nthat she shall tread unawares upon it. In either of these ways she\nwill tread out her husband\u2019s love.[75.1] In Ireland, when a child is\nvaccinated, the medical man is not allowed to take lymph from its arm\nwithout giving some present, however trifling, in return; and Dr. C.\nR. Browne records that when he was vaccinated in county Tipperary, his\narm, as the nurse reported, was kept inflamed because the doctor did\nnot put silver in his hand when taking the lymph.[75.2] The ground of\nthe superstition appears to be the belief in witchcraft. Payment is\nalways held to neutralise a witch\u2019s power over a person through\nsomething received from him, probably because what she gives in\nexchange would confer a like power over her, and hence becomes a\nhostage for her good faith.[75.3]\n\nWhen a shaman among the Cherokees wishes to destroy a man, he hides,\nand follows his victim about until the latter spits upon the ground.\nThen he collects on the end of a stick a little of the dust moistened\nwith the saliva. \u201cThe possession of the man\u2019s spittle gives him power\nover the life of the man himself.\u201d He puts it into a tube consisting\nof a joint of the wild parsnip, \u201ca poisonous plant {76} of\nconsiderable importance in life-conjuring ceremonies,\u201d together with\nseven earthworms beaten into a paste, and some splinters from a tree\nstruck by lightning. With the tube thus prepared he goes to a tree\nwhich has been lightning-struck. At its base he digs a hole, in the\nbottom of which he lays a large yellow stone slab. Upon this he places\nthe tube and seven yellow pebbles. Then, filling up the hole with\nearth, he builds a fire over it. The fire, we are told, is for the\npurpose of destroying all trace of his work; but it may well be done\nwith another object. The yellow stones are said to represent trouble,\nand to be substitutes for black stones, not so easily found, which\nrepresent death. The shaman and his employer fast until after the\nceremony. The victim is expected to feel the effects at once: \u201chis\nsoul begins to shrivel up and dwindle, and within seven days he is\ndead.\u201d[76.1] A traveller in Oregon relates how some Kwakiutl who were\nexasperated against him took up his saliva when he spat, intending, as\nthey subsequently told him, to give it to the medicine-man, who would\ncharm his life away.[76.2] The custom, everywhere practised, of\nobliterating all trace of the saliva after spitting, doubtless\noriginated in the desire to prevent such use of it.[76.3]\n\nSweat has been mentioned as one of the means of witchcraft among the\nAmerican Negroes. The Melanesians hold a leaf wherewith a man has\nwiped the perspiration from his face an effective instrument for doing\nhim mischief.[76.4] The {77} fouler _excreta_ are quite as potent; and\nthis belief has been one of the most beneficial of superstitions. To\nit is due the extreme cleanliness in the disposal of f\u00e6cal matter\nwhich is almost universally a characteristic of savages. I shall\ncontent myself with throwing into a footnote references to a few\npassages of various authorities bearing on this means of\nwitchcraft.[77.1]\n\nSorcery may be wrought upon a foe through any of his teeth which have\nbeen extracted. Wherefore the aborigines of Australia, among whom the\nloss of a front tooth is the sign of admission to the privileges of\nmanhood, are very careful of the teeth which are knocked out. About\nthe river Darling in New South Wales, \u201cthe youth\u2019s companions take the\ntooth when it is extracted, and return it to him later with a present\nof weapons, rugs, nets, and suchlike. The youth places the tooth under\nthe bark of a tree, near a creek, water-hole, or river: if the bark\ngrows over it, or it falls into the water, all is well; but should it\nbe exposed, and the ants run over it, it is believed that the youth\nwill suffer from a disease in the mouth.\u201d[77.2] Of other tribes in\nsouth-eastern Australia it is recorded that the extracted tooth is\ntaken care of by one of the old men. It {78} is passed from one\nhead-man to another, until it has made the complete circuit of the\ncommunity. It then returns to the youth\u2019s father, and finally to\nhimself. He carries it always about with him; but it must on no\naccount be placed in his bag of magical substances, else great danger\nwill accrue to him.[78.1] In England and elsewhere children are\ncommonly told to burn their milk-teeth when taken out. In Belgium\nabout Li\u00e9ge the reason assigned is to obtain a tooth of gold. In\nfact, the fear is that a witch may find it if thrown away, and injure\nthe child by its means, or that a dog, a cat or a wolf may swallow it,\nin which event the new tooth growing in its place will be that of the\nanimal.[78.2] This particular form of the superstition is also found\nin Sussex and Suffolk, and probably in other parts of England.[78.3]\n\nEarth from a man\u2019s footprints, on account of its close contact with\nthe person--and closer still it must have been before mankind was\nshod--has acquired the virtues of a portion of his body. Out of a\nnumber of illustrations of its use in witchcraft I select the\nfollowing from all quarters of the globe. Widely spread in Germany is\nthe belief that if a sod whereon a man has trodden--all the better, if\nwith naked foot--be taken up and dried behind the hearth or oven he\nwill parch up with it and languish, or his foot will be withered. He\nwill be lamed, or even killed, by sticking his footprint with\nnails--coffin-nails are the best--or broken glass. Burchard of Worms\nin the Middle Ages forbade the former practice; in still earlier times\nand another country Pythagoras had forbidden the latter.[78.4] They\nare still, {79} however, particularly recommended in various parts of\nGermany and adjacent lands for punishing a thief, though it is equally\neffectual to put tinder in his footprint, for he will thus be burnt,\nor to fill a pouch with some of the earth he has trodden and beat it\ntwice a day with a stick until fire (!) come out of it: he will feel\nthe blows and die without fail if he bring not back the stolen goods.\nAccording to Bezzenberger a Lithuanian, who finds a thief\u2019s footmark,\ntakes it to the graveyard and selects a grave, wherefrom he draws out\nthe cross, thrusts the earth of the footprint into the hole and rams\ndown the cross upon it again. The thief then falls ill, and thus is\nrevealed.[79.1] In Italy and Russia one may be bewitched by similar\nmeans to those used in Germany.[79.2] In Hungary, when a woman has a\nchild of unwedded love and desires to bind its father\u2019s affections to\nit, she digs up one of his footprints, drops {80} some of her own milk\ninto it and carefully puts it back, reversing its position toe to\nheel.[80.1]\n\nThe use of the footprint survives in the British Islands, I think,\nsolely as a means of defence against witches. A correspondent of Mr.\nTrain, the historian of the Isle of Man, writing about half a century\nago, relates a story in which a colt was taken ill and there was\nreason to fear the Evil Eye. A friend of the owner gathered the dust\nof the road out of the footsteps of the suspected person, and rubbed\nthe animal with it. Thereupon it once more partook of food and rapidly\nrecovered.[80.2] Quite recently a parallel case has been reported, the\nbeast bewitched having been a calf.[80.3] Mr. Hollingsworth, in his\n_History of Stowmarket_, published in 1844, says of a reputed witch\nthat, if any one followed her as she walked, and drove a nail or a\nknife well into the ground through one of her footprints, she was\ndeprived of power to move another step until it was extracted.[80.4]\nIn Grafton County, New Hampshire, in the year 1852, a woman was seen\nto stick a knitting-needle in the footmarks of another who was\nregarded as a witch, under the belief that the steel had power to\nfasten a witch in her tracks, so that she could not move. On this\noccasion the device was ineffectual. There is always a reason for want\nof success in such performances. The performer was satisfied that she\nhad broken the needle\u2019s power by speaking. Elsewhere in New England\nand in Canada an awl is prescribed for the purpose.[80.5] Further\nsouth, the mixed white population of the Alleghanies recommend a nail\nfrom the coffin wherein a corpse has {81} decayed to be driven with\nthree blows into a thief\u2019s track; it will produce the same effect as\nif it entered the robber\u2019s foot. But you are cautioned to tie a string\nround the nail\u2019s head, so that it can be drawn out when requisite;\nelse the man will die.[81.1]\n\nSavages, on the other hand, are more frequently reported as using the\nfootmark as a means of offence. The Karens of Burmah use the earth of\na man\u2019s footprints for the purpose of making a magical image of\nhim.[81.2] The Pakoos strike an enemy\u2019s footsteps with certain stones,\nwith the intention of causing his death.[81.3] On the Slave Coast of\nAfrica a magical powder thrown on a foe\u2019s track renders him mad.[81.4]\nThe Kurnai and other Australian aborigines bury sharp fragments of\nquartz, glass, bone or charcoal in the footmarks or in the place where\nthe victim has lain, under the belief that the substances will thus be\ncaused to enter his body.[81.5] In the west of Victoria--probably\nelsewhere--the black-fellow possessed of supernatural powers, who in\nhot weather comes upon the spoor of a kangaroo, follows it up, putting\nlive embers on it. He will follow it thus for two days, unless he\ntrack it to a water-hole and spear it sooner.[81.6] This superstition,\nto which a special name is given, and of which Mr. Dawson, a most\ncompetent inquirer, failed to get any explanation, is analogous to the\npractice of the North American Indians. A compound, called \u201chunter\u2019s\nmedicine,\u201d the preparation {82} whereof is taught to the neophyte in\nthe initiation ceremony of the Ojibways, is dropped on the track of\nthe animal pursued, to compel it to halt wherever it may be at that\nmoment.[82.1] The Zu\u00f1i hunter follows the trail until he finds a\nplace where the creature has lain down. He then deposits with certain\nofferings a spider-knot, tied of set purpose awkwardly, of four\nstrands of yucca-leaves on the spot over which he supposes the\nvictim\u2019s heart to have rested or passed. Immediately in front of it he\nsticks a forked twig of cedar obliquely into the ground, leaning in\nthe direction opposite to that taken by the animal. Other ceremonies\nfollow, meant to have the effect of impeding and overcoming the\nprey.[82.2]\n\nWith the foregoing may be compared some ceremonies practised in\nEurope, the design of which, though not hostile, is to attach the\nanimal to one place and prevent it from straying. A German huntsman,\nfor example, sticks a coffin-nail into the trail of the game he\ndesires to retain in his preserve.[82.3] When a calf is born, a\nTransylvanian Saxon farmer will take a peg of birch and drive it over\nthe head into the spot on which the calf has fallen.[82.4] So an\nancient English charm for the recovery of stolen cattle directed three\ncandles to be lighted and the wax dripped thrice into the hoof-track,\nand the following invocation to be sung: \u201cPeter, Paul, Patrick,\nPhilip, Mary, Bridget, Felicitas; in the name of God and the Church:\nhe who seeketh findeth.\u201d[82.5] It seems to have required a perfect\n{83} army of saints to stop one thief; but peradventure some of them\nwere talking, or in a journey, or sleeping, and could not attend to\nthe business.\n\nAmong the various instruments of witchcraft I have mentioned the\nrefuse of food. In the South Sea Islands this has been noted over and\nover again by missionaries and travellers. In New Britain a native,\nseized with fever, complained to Mr. Powell that one of his enemies\nhad bewitched him by obtaining the skins of some bananas he had eaten,\n\u201cmaking magic\u201d over them and then burning them. For fear of this, Mr.\nPowell explains, the natives are very careful to burn or hide the\nrefuse of anything they have been eating.[83.1] In the New Hebrides a\nbit of a certain stone, taken with a prayer, is pounded up with a\nfragment of food of the person to whom mischief is to be wrought; or\nthe refuse of his food, such as a banana-skin or a piece of sugar-cane\nhe has chewed, is simply burnt. An amphibious sea-snake called _mae_\nis credited with supernatural power. It will do harm to men by taking\naway morsels of their food into a sacred place, whereupon their lips\nwill swell and their bodies break out with ulcers.[83.2] In one of the\nSolomon Islands there is a sacred pool haunted by a _Tindalo_, or\ndisembodied spirit, much resorted to for a similar purpose by persons\nwho know the place and the spirit. If the scraps of food thrown into\nthe pool are quickly devoured by a fish or a snake the thrower\u2019s\nobject is accomplished: the man whose food has been pilfered for the\npurpose will die. If otherwise, the _Tindalo_ is unwilling {84} to do\nthe mischief desired of him.[84.1] Without pausing to enumerate any\nother cases it may be said in general terms that the superstition\nwhich is the subject of this paragraph is found everywhere in\nAustralasia, Polynesia and Melanesia.[84.2]\n\nNor is it confined to the Southern Ocean. Among the Ainu double fruits\nare liable to be the means of bewitching any one who is bold enough to\neat of them, unless he eat both.[84.3] In Europe, the Magyars\ncarefully throw into the fire the remains of food partaken of at the\nChristmas feast; else the witches will make all sorts of evil charms\nof them. In many places they are kneaded together into a sort of paste\nin human form, and, with the words: \u201cEat fair ladies!\u201d put into the\noven, where they are burnt up in the next baking. The bones are\nfrequently thrown into the open fire; and from their colour, and the\nway they crack and split in the heat, prognostications of future\nfortunes are drawn. Sometimes the bride buries close to the house the\nbread-crumbs, bones and other relics of her wedding-feast, in order\n\u201cto strengthen the building.\u201d[84.4] In both cases the anxiety to\nsecure the food from harm, once extended to food in general, seems to\nhave become restricted to special occasions. The reason alleged in the\ncase of a wedding is probably no more the real reason than that stated\nin the {85} Mark of Brandenburg for not giving away a slice of bread\nwhich has been bitten, lest, we are told, one quarrel with the\nrecipient.[85.1] People in Posen are counselled not to eat in the\npresence of a stranger for fear of being bewitched through the remains\nof their food, nor to take drink from a strange hand without saying as\na counterspell: \u201cGod bless it!\u201d[85.2] About Chemnitz one is advised on\nrising from a meal to leave no bread behind, lest somebody throw it\nover the gallows, in which event hanging would be the doom awaiting\nthe person who had left it. In the neighbourhood of Ansbach he would\nget off more lightly, since only toothache is threatened.[85.3] In\nBelgium, things like milk or bread are never given to any one capable\nof bewitching the giver, save in exchange for a centime or some other\ntrifle: the sale appears to destroy the evil power, a belief we have\nalready found elsewhere. Children are also forbidden to receive from a\nwoman whom they do not know cakes or sweetmeats, or if they do they\nmust throw them over their shoulders, as in fairy tales the drink\npresented by supernatural beings is poured away by mortals; and a\nsimilar caution is enjoined in Italy.[85.4]\n\nBefore dismissing the dangers which may arise from the remains of food\nbeing tampered with, it may be well to mention a curious ordeal in use\namong the Tunguses of Siberia. A fire is made and a scaffold erected\nnear the hut of the accused. A dog\u2019s throat is then cut and the {86}\nblood received in a vessel. The body is put on the wood of the fire,\nbut in such a position that it does not burn. The accused passes over\nthe fire, and drinks two mouthfuls of the blood, the rest whereof is\nthrown into the fire; and the body of the dog is placed on the\nscaffold. Then the accused says: \u201cAs the dog\u2019s blood burns in the\nfire, so may what I have drunk burn in my body; and as the dog put on\nthe scaffold will be consumed, so may I be consumed at the same time\nif I be guilty.\u201d[86.1] The effect intended to be produced on a guilty\nman is obviously the operation of the sympathy between the blood\nunited with his body by drinking and the remainder of the blood and\nthe carcase of the dog as they are consumed, the one in the fire, and\nthe other by putrefaction or birds of carrion.\n\nClothes, from their intimate association with the person, have\nnaturally attained a prominent place among the instruments of\nwitchcraft. Among the Transylvanian Saxons, to put on an article of\nclothing belonging to another is to put on his luck, provided it be\ndone undesignedly.[86.2] The German population of Pennsylvania\ncherishes the belief that witches \u201cacquire influence over any one by\nbecoming possessed of anything belonging to the intended victim, such\nas a hair, a piece of apparel, or a pin. The influence acquired by the\nwitch is greater if such an article be voluntarily or unconsciously\nhanded to her by the person asked for it.\u201d[86.3] For a similar reason,\nthe Votjaks hesitate even to sell any article of clothing they have\nworn.[86.4] A pin from the maiden\u2019s dress, it will be remembered, was\na necessary {87} part of the Livonian charm cited a few pages back;\none of the victim\u2019s gloves appears in the confessions of the\nunfortunate Margaret and Philippa Flower; and a parallel practice has\nbeen recently recorded in Sicily.[87.1] At Mentone the witch with a\npiece of her victim\u2019s garment can render him sick.[87.2] An elaborate\nTuscan charm given by Mr. Leland prescribes the use of the hairs of\nthe victim, \u201cor else the stockings, and those not clean, for there\nmust be in them his or her perspiration.\u201d[87.3] As elsewhere, among\nthe Greco-Walachian population of Macedonia a newly born babe and its\nmother are held to be specially subject to injury by supernatural\nbeings. To prevent this their clothes must not remain out of doors all\nnight; and the water in which they or the clothes have been washed\nmust be poured through pipes into the depths of the ground.[87.4] In\nGermany, in Spain, in Asia Minor and in many other places a portion of\nthe witch\u2019s dress is burnt to destroy her spells and restore the\nobject of her conjurations to health.[87.5] A Gipsy prescription to\nrecover a stolen horse is to bury the harness which may be left, to\nkindle a fire over the spot and sing {88} an imprecation on the thief\nand an invocation to the steed to return safe and sound.[88.1] Our\nAnglo-Saxon forefathers thought it enough to sing over the\nfoot-shackles or the bridle the powerful invocation I mentioned just\nnow.\n\nThe Segoo conjurer on the Upper Niger uses a piece of cloth belonging\nto the victim, or a little dirt that has been touched by his foot.\nThese he sticks by means of hen\u2019s blood to a fetish charm prepared,\naccording to price, to kill or only to produce various degrees of\ndamage to his client\u2019s foe.[88.2] In a Hottentot story a fugitive\nthrows off his mantle, and it immediately runs in another direction so\nas to deceive and baffle his pursuers.[88.3] Here the garment is\nrepresented as endowed with life and sympathy for its owner; but it\ndoes not appear that when it was caught the pursuers thought it worth\nwhile to destroy it with intent to slay the owner. As already\nmentioned, a piece of an Australian native\u2019s opossum rug, or any other\nportion of his scanty dress, is sufficient to enable an enemy to\nbewitch him.[88.4] The Maories and the Fiji islanders are equally\nsuperstitious. It is related of the latter that if they have reason to\nsuspect others of plotting against them, they not only avoid eating in\ntheir presence, or leaving any fragments of their food behind, but\nthey also dispose their clothing so that no part of it can be\nremoved.[88.5] On the island of Tanna, in the New Hebrides, a\n_yolnuruk_, or wizard, can bewitch any one by means of a portion of\nhis food, the {89} unused part of a stick of tobacco, his belt or\ngarment, a stick he has had in his hand, the scrapings of a stone on\nwhich he has sat, or in fact anything that has once touched his\nbody.[89.1] To a Tonga islander it was fatal to hide a portion of his\nclothing in the family tomb of one of his relations of higher rank\nthan himself.[89.2]\n\nEverywhere, indeed, it is dangerous to leave an article of a living\nperson\u2019s dress in the possession of the dead. An old woman who went to\npray in the old church, now ruined, of Saint Martin at Bonn was\nsurprised by finding herself in a congregation of the departed. A\nspectral Mass was, in fact, being celebrated by spectral priests, and\nshe was the only living being in the assembly. Her dead husband was\nthere; and, warned by him, she fled. But the door, in swinging-to as\nshe passed out, caught her cloak; and she had to leave it behind. She\nsickened and died; and \u201cthe neighbours said it must be because a piece\nof her clothes had remained in the possession of the dead.\u201d[89.3] In\nGermany and Denmark no portion of a survivor\u2019s clothing must on any\naccount be put upon a corpse, else the owner will languish away as it\nmoulders in the grave; and the superstition has been carried by Saxon\nsettlers into the Land beyond the Forest.[89.4] Among the Poles, to\nlay a maiden\u2019s garland on the head of a dead body covers the maiden\nherself with scabs; and the Masurs declare that if a bystander at an\nopen grave drop anything in, or if any article {90} belonging to a\nliving person be laid in it, he will die soon.[90.1] Conversely the\ngreatest caution is necessary in taking anything belonging to the\ndead. Legends are common in Northern and Central Europe of persons who\nhave wittingly or unwittingly stolen shrouds. The thief always comes\nto a bad end, or at least escapes only by the skin of his teeth. These\ncatastrophes are attributed to ghostly action; but a similar power is\nascribed to mere sympathy. To appropriate pieces of a coffin, or\nflowers from a grave, to say nothing of bones or other parts of a\ncorpse, is, among the Saxons of the Seven Cities, to appropriate\nill-luck for the rest of one\u2019s life. To hang rags from the clothing of\na dead man upon a vine is to render it barren. Even in taking his gear\nin the most legitimate manner, pious formul\u00e6 and ceremonies must be\nused; and then it will not last you long. In former times it was\ncharitably given to the poor.[90.2] To stick a nail from a coffin in a\nliving man\u2019s shoe is, in Thuringia, to cause his death.[90.3] In the\nNew World the Caribs held that they could injure an enemy by wrapping\nup some trifling object belonging to, or habitually used by, him with\nthe bones of one of their deceased friends, which were preserved for\nthat and other magical purposes.[90.4] The Aleutian Eskimo think that\nthe tools and garments of the dead remain in sympathy with him; \u201chence\ntheir touch chills, and the sight of them inspires sadness.\u201d[90.5]\n\nProbably it is only a different interpretation of the same belief\nwhich alike in Christian, in Mohammedan, and in {91} Buddhist lands\nhas led to the ascription of marvellous powers to the clothes and\nother relics of departed saints. The divine power which was immanent\nin these personages during life attaches not merely to every portion\nof their bodies but to every shred of their apparel. The Ursuline nuns\nof Quintin keep one of the principal schools in Brittany. When a girl\nwho has been their pupil marries and finds herself \u201cin blessed\ncircumstances,\u201d the pious nuns send her a white ribbon painted in blue\n(the Virgin\u2019s colour) with the words: \u201cNotre Dame de D\u00e9livrance,\nprot\u00e9gez nous.\u201d Before despatching it, they touch with it the\nreliquary of the parish church, which contains a fragment of the\nVirgin Mary\u2019s zone. The recipient hastens to put the ribbon around her\nwaist, and does not cease to wear it until her baby is born.[91.1] For\nthe Virgin\u2019s zone, having been in contact with her divinity, though\nthat contact has ceased to outward appearance, is still in some subtle\nconnection with the goddess, and can, with the power it has thus\nacquired, leaven its reliquary and everything that touches the\nreliquary. Father De Acosta bears unconscious testimony to the real\ncharacter of this belief. Speaking of the Mexican idol Tezcatlipuca,\nhe relates that upon the even of his feast the god was furnished by\nthe nobles with a new robe. When it was put on, the old robe was taken\noff \u201cand kept with as much or more reverence {92} than we doe our\nornaments.\u201d Ecclesiastical ornaments, of course, are meant; and the\nwriter goes on to say that \u201cthere were in the coffers of the idoll\nmany ornaments, iewelles, eareings, and other riches, as bracelets and\npretious feathers, which served to no other vse but to be there, and\nwas [_sic_] worshipped as their god it selfe.\u201d[92.1] Not to multiply\ninstances which might be adduced from the Arctic Ocean to the Southern\nSea, I will refer only to the sacred girdle worn by Tahitian kings.\nThe red feathers which adorned this girdle were taken from the images\nof the gods. It \u201cthus became sacred, even as the person of the gods,\nthe feathers being supposed to retain all the dreadful attributes of\npower and vengeance which the idols possessed, and with which it was\ndesigned to endow the king.\u201d So potent indeed was it that Mr. Ellis\nsays it \u201cnot only raised him to the highest earthly station, but\nidentified him with their gods.\u201d[92.2]\n\nNor is it merely to clothes and personal ornaments that this intimate\nand sympathetic connection with their owner\u2019s life is ascribed. It\nmight be supposed that the constant visible and tangible association\nof these things with the man himself might render it difficult to\ndisintegrate the image thus formed in the slowly working mind of a\nsavage, and that this might be the reason for their identification\n(for it amounts to nothing less) with his personality. Or it might be\nargued that, as is distinctly suggested in certain cases, they have\nbecome saturated with his sweat by repeated use, and thereby become an\n{93} outlying portion of his body. The identification, however, is\nextended to things we should suppose more easily dissociated from him,\nto things but rarely coming beneath his touch. The Wanyoro of Central\nAfrica imagine that straws from the thatch of a dwelling may be so\ncharmed as to bring calamity upon its owner.[93.1] When Captain Speke\nwas in Unyoro, the king, Kamrasi, sent some one to steal some grass\nfrom the thatch of a Chopi chief, \u201cin order that he might spread a\ncharm on the Chopi people, and gain such an influence over them that\ntheir spears could not prevail against the Wanyoro.\u201d[93.2] In the Isle\nof Man, one fisherman can rob another of his luck by plucking a straw\nfrom the latter\u2019s cottage as he passes it on his way to fishing.[93.3]\nA woman of Kirk Lonan in the same island confessed, on the 31st of\nJuly 1712, to a charge of having taken up some earth from under a\nneighbour\u2019s door and burnt it to ashes, which she had given to her\ncattle, \u201cwith an intention, as she owns, to make them give more\nmilk\u201d--in other words, to a charge of stealing by magical means the\nmilk from her neighbour\u2019s cows.[93.4] In Denmark, to steal\nfishing-tackle is to rob the fisher of his luck. For a similar reason,\nno Esthonian farmer is willing to give earth from his\ncornfields.[93.5] In southern Bohemia the sweepings must not be\nallowed to lie before the house-door, else the witches will be enabled\nby its means to lame the inhabitants, as well as to ascertain what is\ngoing on in the house.[93.6] In the Tirol an enemy can be ruined by\ncutting a turf from one\u2019s own ground and {94} throwing it on his roof;\nwhile a Fijian can bewitch his foe by burying certain leaves in the\nfoe\u2019s garden or hiding them in his thatch.[94.1] The Annamites are\nsaid by Dr. Bartels, I know not on what authority, to effect a spell\nof injury by driving a nail into a plank of the victim\u2019s ship or one\nof the posts of his house.[94.2] As long as the men are away from a\nDyak village on a warlike expedition their fires are lighted on their\nhearths as if they were at home. \u201cThe mats are spread and the fires\nkept up till late in the evening, and lighted again before dawn, so\nthat the men may not be cold. The roofing of the house is opened\nbefore dawn, so that the men may not lie too long and so fall into the\nhands of the enemy.\u201d[94.3] The belief in the inseparable connection of\na person and his property seems to have limited to some slight extent\nthe indiscriminate almsgiving practised in many European, especially\nRoman Catholic, countries. It is deemed prudent always to refuse\npersons suspected of witchcraft; and at certain times, as on the\noccasion of a birth or death, or even when a cow has calved, every one\nmust be refused. To give fire on these occasions, or on various days\nof the year, is highly dangerous, and it is by no means safe at any\ntime. Mr. Frederick Starr, the Curator of the Natural History Museum\nat New York, records a case of witchcraft that came under his own\nnotice among the German population of Pennsylvania, where the trouble\nwas traced to the giving of a match to the sorceress to {95} light her\npipe.[95.1] Nor is the superstition unknown to the American\naborigines, as witness the attempt mentioned in the last chapter of\nthe Shawnee prophet to persuade John Tanner that his life was\ndependent on his lodge fire. And the Moravian missionaries found it in\nGreenland, where one of the things a pregnant woman may not permit is\nthe lighting of a match at her lamp.[95.2]\n\nIn the _Mah\u00e1bh\u00e1rata_ an ascetic who is enraged with king\nDhritar\u00e1shtra accepts from the king the carcases of some cattle which\nhad died. Then he lighted a sacrificial fire and cut up the animals;\nand \u201cobservant of rigid vows the great D\u00e1lvya-vaka poured\nDhritar\u00e1shtra\u2019s kingdom as a libation on the fire with the aid of\nthose pieces of meat. Upon the commencement of that fierce sacrifice,\naccording to due rites, the kingdom of Dhritar\u00e1shtra began to waste\naway, even as a large forest begins to disappear when men proceed to\ncut it down.\u201d The monarch, it need hardly be added, was soon reduced\nto submission.[95.3] Here the foe is affected by rites performed upon\nhis cattle; and perhaps the same belief is the origin of the\nresentment felt by a Samoan when he finds marks of a knife or hatchet\ninflicted by another upon anything belonging to him, such as his\ncanoe, his breadfruit-tree, or even on a few taro-plants. We are told\nthat \u201che considers it is like cutting himself, and rages like a bear\nto find out who has done it.\u201d[95.4] The close connection held in cases\nlike these to subsist between {96} property and its owner is further\nexemplified by the practice of the Pipiles of Central America, who had\nspecial regulations for indulgence in marital embraces at the moment\nof sowing.[96.1] So also when the Ynca Mayta Capac ordered certain\nprisoners in one of the provinces he had conquered to be burnt alive,\nthe zealous people not only carried out the command but included in\nthe punishment all that the criminals had in their houses, destroying\nthe houses and strewing their sites with stones as accursed places.\n\u201cThey also destroyed their flocks, and even pulled up the trees they\nhad planted. It was ordered that their land should never be given to\nany one, but that it should remain desolate, _that no man might\ninherit with it the evil deeds of its former owners_.\u201d[96.2] Among the\nAlfours of Posso in Celebes, when a man dies he is solemnly tried, and\nevery one is entitled to express an opinion upon his life. If the\ndecision be unfavourable he is buried without ceremony, provided his\ndebts be paid, and his goods are destroyed, for nobody can, and nobody\nwishes to, inherit from him.[96.3] The spirit and intention evinced in\nthis destruction of a great offender\u2019s property dictated the\nextermination (or at least the story of the extermination) of Achan,\nthe son of Zerah, with the goods he had appropriated at the sack of\nJericho, his sons, and his daughters, \u201chis oxen, and his asses, and\nhis sheep, and his tent, and all that he had.\u201d It was only when they\nhad been burnt and covered with a great heap of stones, as in the case\nof the Peruvian prisoners, that \u201cthe Lord turned from the fierceness\nof his anger.\u201d[96.4] {97} Hardly an extension is it of the belief here\nindicated which leads the Chinese to identify the produce of labour\nwith the labourer himself. In the Middle Kingdom grave-clothes are\nprocured long beforehand and kept in store for years. Professor De\nGroot says: \u201cOld age being a benefit the Chinese prefer above all\nthings, most people have the clothes in question cut out and sewed by\nan unmarried girl or a very young woman, wisely calculating that,\nwhereas such a person is likely to live still a great number of years,\na part of her capacity to live still long must surely pass into the\nclothes, and thus put off for many years the moment when they shall be\nrequired for use.\u201d[97.1] Traces of the same thought are found in the\nGerman requirement that in making vinegar, to make it good, one must\nlook sour and be savage, and in the high value placed upon yarn spun\nby a girl under seven years of age.[97.2]\n\nBut superstition stops not with a man\u2019s property and the produce of\nhis labour any more than with portions of his body or his garments and\nornaments. Things arbitrarily associated with him, if the proper\nceremonies be observed, and the proper incantations muttered or sung,\nmay be made effectual instruments of injury as if they were parts of\nhimself. His name, it may be argued, is something peculiarly his own;\nand a portrait, if any resemblance be traceable to the person\nrepresented, may bear identification with him. But, as I have already\npointed out, likeness is by no means necessary. If it be enough, in\norder to constitute a life-token, merely to attribute connection at\nthe will of the person inquiring concerning the absent, it must {98}\nbe enough also for the purpose of bewitching him. What is valid in the\none case must be valid in the other. So much has been written on the\naspects of savage thought concerning personal names and personal\nportraits, and on the images made for the purposes of witchcraft, that\nI need not do more than point out that the profane use of images for\nwitchcraft is exactly parallel to the sacred use of images of gods and\nsaints. If by sticking a pin into a waxen figure, or melting it in the\nfire, I can torture and do to death the person whom the figure\nrepresents, the converse process of honouring and feeding and\npacifying with incense and adoration will have its effect upon the\ndeity whose image is thus treated. Wherever he may be, he is present\nby means of the sympathy between the picture or the statue and\nhimself, a sympathy thus indistinguishable from identity. Practically\nof course this involves omnipresence. The difficulty is not felt by\nthe savage. If the theologian feel it, he can explain it away in a\ncrowd of unctuous phrases, or smother his common sense with the\nauthority of the Church. The scientific investigator can do neither.\nThe only theory of the superstition he can present is that which is\neduced from a comparison of analogous cases, namely, that just as hair\nand other portions of the body, when severed in outward appearance,\nyet maintain an essential connection with it, so images bearing the\nname of, or intended to represent, an absent man or a deity are an\nextension of his person, bound to it by an invisible and indivisible\nlink. That a ceremony should be required to perfect the bond, to\ncomplete the connection, is only to be expected; and naturally this\nceremony is fully developed in solemn and formal worship and the\nhigher sorcery. But the ritual of consecration depends upon another\nprinciple--that {99} of the power of certain forms of words when\nuttered in a prescribed manner to bring about the fulfilment of a\nwish--the discussion whereof is foreign to this inquiry.\n\nA few illustrations of the identity imputed for magical purposes to\narbitrary objects other than effigies may perhaps be interesting as\nshowing how far the imputation may be carried, and on how slender a\nconnection of thought in many cases it rests. On the Slave Coast,\nMajor Ellis reports that an enemy\u2019s death may be compassed by wrapping\na tree-stump with palm-leaves and strips of calico, and hanging a\nstring of cowries on it, and then hammering the top with a stone while\npronouncing the victim\u2019s name.[99.1] In the Congo region, an approved\nmethod of bewitching mortally is to put a certain herb or plant into a\nhole in the ground. As it decays, so the vigour and spirits of the\nperson aimed at will fail and decay.[99.2] In Fiji, a cocoa-nut is\nburied beneath the temple hearth, with the eye upwards. A fire is kept\nconstantly burning on the hearth; and as it destroys the life of the\nnut, so the health of the person represented by the nut fails, and he\nultimately dies.[99.3] In the Hervey Islands, the expanded flower of a\ngardenia was stuck upright--no easy feat--in a cocoa-nut-shell cup of\nwater. The sorcerer would then offer a prayer for the death of the\nperson intended; and if the flower fell his prayer would be\nsuccessful.[99.4] In some districts of Sicily on Christmas Eve, at the\nmoment of the elevation of the host at midnight mass, an orange or a\nlemon, previously charmed for the {100} purpose by a witch, must be\ntaken from the pocket, a piece of the rind torn off, and the fruit\nstuck with pins. It is necessary to accompany the act with an\nimprecation of as many pains and misfortunes on the unhappy victim as\nthe pins in the fruit. At Palermo an egg is used, a ribbon is attached\nto one of the pins, and the egg is then hidden somewhere in the house\nof the person to be injured.[100.1] In Bosnia, a maiden may be\ndetached from her lover by burying an egg before and another behind\nher dwelling, saying the while: \u201cIt is not eggs I bury; I bury rather\nher luck; her luck shall be turned to stone.\u201d But the effect of the\ncharm may be dissipated by the maiden\u2019s finding the eggs, throwing\nthem out of the farmyard, and retiring without looking round.[100.2]\n\nIn each of the foregoing cases the association with the victim appears\nto be formed by the utterance of his name, though in the two last\nthere is further the introduction of the bespelled object into his\ndwelling or its immediate vicinity. This effects a kind of contact\nwith him. It was the same in a spell cast over a maiden to whose aid\nSaint Hilarion was once called. She had rejected the advances of a\nyoung magician, who in return laid a copper plate engraved with\ncertain characters under the door of her dwelling. The effect was, as\nwe know from Saint Jerome, that she became possessed by a devil, who\nboasted that he would not leave her until the copper plate was taken\naway. But in Hilarion, who was so full of the Holy Spirit that he\ncould tell one devil from another by the smell, the tormentor had met\nhis match. The saint forbade the removal {101} of the plate; nor would\nhe bandy words with the demon, but delivered the girl by the sheer\nstrength of his prayers.[101.1] At Vate, one of the New Hebrides, if a\nman were angry with another, he buried certain leaves by night close\nto his foe\u2019s house, so that the latter in coming forth in the morning\nmight step over them and be taken ill.[101.2] More direct contact is\nset up with the person condemned to undergo the poison ordeal at\nBlantyre, in Central Africa, when the ordeal is to be inflicted, as\nfrequently is the case, by proxy on a dog or a fowl, or some other\nanimal. The proxy is then tied by a string to the accused.[101.3] The\nsame result is obtained in the neighbourhood of Hermannstadt in\nTransylvania on the occasion of a robbery, if restitution be desired,\nby procuring a consecrated wafer and putting it upon any portion\nremaining of the stolen property. The operator then sticks a needle\ninto the wafer, saying: \u201cThief, I stick thy brains; thou shalt lose\nthy reason!\u201d Again he sticks the needle in, saying: \u201cThief, I stick\nthy hands to change thee to goodness!\u201d A third time he sticks it in,\nsaying: \u201cThief, I stick thy feet to lame thee!\u201d After this, if the\nthief would avoid death, he must bring the stolen goods back.[101.4]\nIf, at the time of a death among the Poles, anything have been stolen,\na similar article or a piece of the same material is laid in the\ncoffin with the dead, and as it corrupts the thief withers away and\nultimately dies.[101.5] The concurrence of a theft with a death,\nhowever, does not always happen so {102} conveniently. The Masurs,\ntherefore, reckon it sufficient to bury the article in the\nchurchyard.[102.1] In the Fiji Islands, Macdonald records that,\ncertain roots having been stolen, the sorcerers who were called in\nplaced the remains of the roots in contact with a poisonous plant. As\nsoon as this was known, two persons fell sick with a disease that\nproved mortal; and before dying they confessed to the robbery.[102.2]\n\nThe principle applied in these instances appears to be a logical\nextension of that which identifies a man with his property. The thief\nis identified with the articles he has possessed himself of, and is\naffected by means of a portion of the bulk to which they belong, and\nwhence he has severed them. In this country the identification is\nusually arbitrary, no contact being attempted. The heart of some\nanimal, as a sheep, a hare, or a pigeon, is procured and stuck full of\npins; and a form of words is pronounced similar to those in the\nTransylvanian example. In a case mentioned by Mr. Henderson as\noccurring no longer ago than the year 1861, a live pigeon was thus\ntortured and pierced to the heart, and then roasted, the object being\nto punish and discover a witch who was believed to have killed some\nhorses by means of the Evil Eye. This kind of incantation is perhaps\nmore usual in philtres, or where the girl betrayed seeks to avenge\nherself upon her lover. Mr. Henderson quotes the following directions\nfrom _The Universal Fortune Teller_: \u201cLet any unmarried woman take the\nblade-bone of a shoulder of lamb, and borrowing a penknife (without\nsaying for what purpose) she must, on going to bed, stick the knife\nonce through the bone every night for nine nights {103} in succession\nin different places, repeating every night while so doing these words:\n\n \u2019Tis not this bone I mean to stick,\n But my lover\u2019s heart I mean to prick;\n Wishing him neither rest nor sleep\n Till he comes to me to speak.\n\nAccordingly at the end of the nine days, or shortly after, he will\ncome and ask for something to put to a wound inflicted during the time\nyou were charming him.\u201d[103.1] Reginald Scot gives a charm \u201cto spoile\na theefe, a witch, or anie other enemie, and to be delivered from the\nevill,\u201d by cutting a hazel-wand on Sunday morning before sunrise,\nsaying: \u201cI cut thee, O bough of this summer\u2019s growth, in the name of\nhim whom I mean to beat or maim.\u201d The table is then to be covered,\nusing thrice the formula, \u201cIn nomine Patris, etc.,\u201d and struck with\nthe wand, the performer repeating some apparently meaningless jargon\nand a prayer to the Trinity to punish the object of vengeance.[103.2]\nIt would be easy, but tedious, to multiply examples. Let it suffice to\nsay that the spell here described is known in one form or other all\nover Europe. Generally the substance practised upon is a part of some\nanimal, a puppet-figure, or else a candle or brand. In the last\nchapter we have seen the candle or brand as Life-token. It is\nimmaterial whether the identification of the brand with a human being\nbe for the purpose of divination or of witchcraft. If the brand\nindicate by its condition the condition of the person about whom I am\ninquiring, then I can, by affecting the condition of the brand, affect\nalso that of the person in question. {104} The Bishop of Evreux in his\nstatutes of the year 1664 condemns, among other practices, the\npurchase of a fagot to burn with incense and white alum at an uneven\nhour of the day or night with a long and horrible imprecation against\nan enemy by name. Mingled wine and salt were, we learn, poured over\nthe burning fagot in the course of the proceedings. As an alternative\nthe statutes mention the burning of nine, eleven, thirteen or fifteen\ncandles. And apparently the same ill effects were to be produced by\nsimply cursing the foe while putting out the lights in the dwelling,\nand then rolling on the ground reciting the one hundred-and-eighth\npsalm.[104.1]\n\nThis is a superstition familiar to us in the classic tale of Meleager.\nWhen Alth\u00e6a gave birth to him she was visited by the three Fates, who\nplaced a billet of wood on the fire and bespelled her child to live\nuntil it was consumed. She snatched the brand from the flames,\nextinguished them with water and kept it safely until the day she\nbeheld her two brothers brought home from the hunting of the\nCalydonian boar, both dead by Meleager\u2019s hand. In the madness of her\nanger she fetched it forth, and after a struggle between her love as a\nmother and her love as a sister she cast it on the fire. Meleager\nabsent and unwitting felt his entrails burning, and died in torture\nwhen the brand was consumed. The writer of a work, ascribed to\nPlutarch, on _Parallels between the Romans and the Greeks_, quotes in\na fragmentary way from Menyllus a story of one Mamercus, a son of Mars\nby Sylvia the wife of {105} Septimius Marcellus. Mamercus\u2019 life was by\nhis divine father bound up with a spear, which was burnt by his mother\nunder somewhat similar provocation to that of Alth\u00e6a. The tale is yet\ncurrent in Epirus, in the Vosges, and among the Germans both in\nGermany and Transylvania; and a few years ago I heard from the lips of\na collier on the wild upland between the vale of Neath and the vale of\nSwansea a legend of a man named John Gethin, who had been overcome\nwith fright on raising the Devil and so put himself into the enemy\u2019s\npower. A fight ensued between the conjurer who accompanied him and the\nDevil for Gethin\u2019s body. The conjurer pulled and the Devil pulled,\nuntil the unfortunate man was nearly torn in two. The conjurer at\nlength obtained from his adversary permission to keep him so long as a\ncandle which was part of his conjuring apparatus lasted. The candle\nwas instantly blown out, but though it was kept in a cool place it\nwasted away, and with it John Gethin\u2019s life, so that when he died the\ncandle was found to be entirely consumed. His body vanished; and the\ncoffin buried in the parish churchyard at Ystradgynlais, on the\nborders of Brecknockshire and Glamorganshire, contained nothing but\nclay.[105.1] In the province of Posen it is said that every man has a\nburning taper which is set up in a certain grove; and when it goes\nout, the life of the man to whom it belongs goes out too.[105.2] This\nis the foundation of an incident in a folktale known in many parts of\nEurope, wherein Death takes a man down into his own abode and shows\nhim an array of candles {106} which are the lives of men, some long,\nsome short, and some on the point of extinction.\n\nThe superstitions we have discussed in the present chapter disclose a\nparallel range to those of the Life-token. First we find witchcraft\nexercised upon detached portions of the victim\u2019s body, identified with\nhimself by the same process of thought as that analysed in the last\nchapter. The remains of his food are equally liable to hostile\npractices, because they are a portion of something which he has\nincorporated into his own substance. Clothing and the dust or mud of\nnaked footprints would also be likely to retain sweat, hairs and\nspecks of skin available for the sorcerer\u2019s purpose; and it may well\nbe believed that this was the original reason for treating other\narticles of property in the like manner. But with the accumulation of\nproperty of all kinds the real reason for the use of such things would\nfade, and the procedure would degenerate into mere simulation. The\nprocess would be facilitated by the superstition of regarding a man\u2019s\nname as a part of himself. Any one who knew another\u2019s real name, by\nimputing it to some convenient object, could identify that object with\nhis enemy, and work his will upon it, and upon his enemy through it.\nThere is, however, a wide tract of borderland where the underlying\nreason for the practices is vague, and it is consequently difficult,\nor impossible, to determine whether the injuries are believed to be\ninflicted on something essentially part of the victim, or are no more\nthan symbolic. But here as elsewhere symbolism is the offspring of an\nearlier practice; it is the form which remains when the real practice\ncan no longer be repeated. It points unmistakably to injuries\noriginally inflicted on something regarded as actually part of, and so\nunited with, the {107} victim, though in appearance detached, that he\nwill suffer all that it receives.\n\nOne of the most curious applications of the doctrine we have been\nconsidering deserves a few illustrations before passing on. The\nimputation of identity of a man\u2019s property with himself would lead us\nto expect that wherever the instrument of witchcraft could be found,\nits destruction would be attended with injury and even destruction to\nthe sorcerer, as when in Silesia cattle are bewitched. In such a case,\nany object found under the crib, or under the threshold, is put into a\nbag and hung up in the chimney. The witch will then come and ask for\nsomething. If she be refused, the cattle are saved and she herself\nsuffers.[107.1] A Danish tradition of a bewitched household relates\nthat under a large stone outside the dwelling was found a silken\npurse, filled with claws of cocks and eagles, human hair and nails.\nWhen it was burnt, the suspected witch died, and all sorcery was at an\nend.[107.2] So too in the Isle of Man, Professor Rhys was told, by the\nman who did it, of the burning of a reputed witch\u2019s broomstick. She\ndied; and the man firmly believed that the burning of the broomstick\nhad caused her death.[107.3] On the Slave Coast, any one who wishes to\nbe revenged upon another prays to certain gods to send the owl, their\nmessenger, to eat out the heart of the offending person by night. \u201cThe\nonly mode of escape,\u201d we are assured, \u201cis to catch the bird and break\nits legs and wings, which has the effect of breaking the legs and arms\nof the person who sent it.\u201d[107.4] A gruesome tale, {108} current\namong the descendants of Scottish Highlanders settled in Ontario,\nspeaks of a large blue butterfly that frequented a certain farm, where\nthe churns were bewitched and the butter was of an inferior quality.\nWhen the creature was persistently followed and killed the charm was\ndestroyed, and so was a neighbour, a lonely old woman who was wicked\nenough not to go to church, and was on ill terms with the\ncommunity.[108.1] Tales of this kind are current in Germany and the\nNetherlands, especially in connection with nightmare stories.[108.2]\nThe Gipsies of the Austrian empire believe that women become witches\nby holding sexual intercourse with demons. From this a demon-spirit\npasses over into the woman. She can send it at her will out of her own\nbody in the form of an animal to injure and slay her neighbours. This\nit does by creeping while they sleep into their bodies, generally\nthrough their mouths: whence Gipsies are very careful not to sleep\nwith the mouth open. Meantime the witch\u2019s body lies as dead, and only\nrevives when the sleeper awakes and the spirit returns to its owner,\nleaving its spittle behind in the victim\u2019s intestines, to cause\nsickness and even death. The antidote consists of certain\nincantations, accompanied by the symbolic crushing of an egg and the\nburning of portions of the witch\u2019s hair, nails, clothing or the like.\nThe victim leaps nine times over the fire, calling out the witch\u2019s\nname, and then spits and makes water into the flames.[108.3] Here\nnothing is said about catching the mischievous animal, as in the {109}\nWest African and some of the European examples; while in all alike the\nclose connection, amounting to an imputation of identity, between the\nwitch and the animal is related very nearly to the belief in the\nwitch\u2019s power of self-transformation so commonly believed in western\nEurope.\n\nThe Gipsy prescription, however, goes further. When the victim leaps\nover the flames he symbolises an immolation that actually takes, or\nused within recent times to take, place when cattle are bewitched. In\nthe earlier half of the last century a witch was believed to have been\nburned to death at Ipswich by the process of burning alive a sheep she\nhad bewitched. \u201cIt was curious,\u201d says Mr. Zincke, \u201cbut it was as\nconvincing as curious, that the hands and feet of the witch were the\nonly parts of her that had not been incinerated. This was\nsatisfactorily explained by the fact that the four feet of the sheep,\nby which it had been suspended over the fire, had not been destroyed\nin the flames that consumed its body.\u201d The same writer knew a woman at\nWherstead, in Suffolk, who had once baked alive a duck, one of a brood\nbelieved by her to be under a spell.[109.1] In 1833 a man at\nWoodhurst, in Huntingdonshire, was persuaded by his neighbours to\nroast alive a pig belonging to a litter recently farrowed, all of\nwhich with the sow were bewitched. The sorceress was expected to\nappear during the ceremony, and doubtless to suffer with the tortured\nbeast.[109.2] More lately still, if a correspondent of the _Diss\nExpress_ can be trusted, an old woman at South Lopham burnt one of her\nhens on a Sunday {110} at noon, about the year 1892, to put an end to\na spell laid upon her fowls by a neighbour.[110.1] Unhappily England\ndoes not enjoy a monopoly of this cruel prescription. It was certainly\nknown in Germany. One of the directions in some folklore collected at\nGernsbach, near Spire, in the last quarter of the eighteenth century,\nis: \u201cIf your hens, ducks, pigs, etc., die fast, light a fire in the\noven, and throw one of each kind in; the witch will perish with them.\u201d\nWhile it is included by implication in the more general precept\nobtained at Pforzheim: \u201cIf a thing is bewitched, and you burn it, the\nwitch is sure to come, wanting to borrow something; give it, and she\nis free; deny it, and she too must burn.\u201d[110.2] The same prescription\nis reported from Franconia.[110.3] At the present day it is usual to\nwait until the bewitched animal be dead, and then its heart is taken\nand stuck with pins, and frequently burnt, cooked, or suspended in the\nchimney. Variants of the prescription deal in a similar manner with\nother portions of the body. All over the west of Europe this is the\ncourse taken; and immigrants from the Old World practise it in\nPennsylvania and the Alleghanies. In some countries the ceremony is\nvery elaborate, and great precautions are taken to prevent the witch\nfrom entering the house while it is proceeding, or from borrowing\nanything, lest the efficacy of the counter-spell be destroyed.[110.4]\nReginald Scot quotes a {111} direction for grilling the intestines of\na beast slain by witchcraft. They are to be trailed unto the house,\nand not taken in at the door but drawn under the threshold. \u201cAs they\nwax hot\u201d on the gridiron, \u201cso shall the witches entrailes be molested\nwith extreame heat and paine.\u201d The doors must be made fast; for if she\ncan succeed in taking away a coal of the fire, her torments will\ncease. To this end she will make extraordinary efforts, darkening the\nhouse and troubling the air \u201cwith such horrible noise and earthquakes,\nthat,\u201d writes an eye-witness, \u201cexcept the doore had been opened, we\nhad thought the house would have fallen on our heads.\u201d[111.1]\nSometimes the animal bewitched is shot, or it is deemed enough to beat\nit, or to fumigate it with herbs, or, among the Poles, with the ashes\nof a young snake caught on the festival of the Annunciation.[111.2] In\nGermany, when a cow\u2019s milk has been taken away by a witch, the\nanimal\u2019s nostrils are burnt with a hot iron and its name is\nchanged.[111.3] The milk or urine of a bewitched animal is beaten,\npricked with a fork, cooked in a pot with pins and needles, or nails,\nor poured on the dunghill.[111.4] When the milk only is affected, so\nthat butter cannot be made, it is common to beat it, or thrust a\nred-hot poker into the churn, or to beat the churn. A farmer in the\nState of Vermont, who had churned nearly all day without making\nbutter, \u201cloaded his musket and fired the whole charge into the churn,\u201d\nsaying that \u201cthe {112} witches had got into it.\u201d The result was\nsatisfactory, for shortly afterwards the butter came; but what was the\neffect of the shot upon the witches we are not told.[112.1]\n\nA bewitched person is treated in precisely similar ways. The Abipones\npulled out the heart and tongue of a dead man, boiled them, and gave\nthem to a dog to devour, so that the author of his death might die\ntoo.[112.2] Among the Masurs it is believed that if a person killed by\nwitchcraft be buried with the feet up, the guilty witch will be\ndiscovered; for she cannot endure it, and must come to put the bier in\nthe proper position.[112.3] As an example of simulated destruction,\nlike that in the Gipsy counter-spell above quoted, we may cite the\ntreatment of a \u201cheart-grown\u201d child at Stamfordham, in Northumberland,\ngiven by Mr. Henderson. The puny patient is brought before sunrise \u201cto\na blacksmith of the seventh generation, and laid naked on the anvil.\nThe smith raises his hammer as if he were about to strike hot iron,\nbut brings it down gently on the child\u2019s body.\u201d This is done thrice,\nand the child, though overlooked or otherwise bewitched, is sure to\nthrive from that day.[112.4] In Suffolk, blood, hair and nails from\nthe victim were simmered, or fried. The witch was expected to come and\nknock at the door, which in all such cases is fast shut, and ask to\nborrow something. If denied, she would die.[112.5] Anne Baker, one of\nthe confederates of the sisters Flower, being examined concerning a\nchild of Anne Stammidge whom she was suspected of having bewitched to\ndeath, gave most damnatory evidence against herself. She was {113}\ncharged \u201cthat upon the burning of the haire and the paring of the\nnailes of the said childe, the said Anne Baker came in and set her\ndowne, and for one houre\u2019s space coulde speake nothing\u201d; and she\nconfessed \u201cshee came into the house of the said Anne Stammidge in\ngreat paine, but did not know of the burning of the haire and nailes\nof the said childe, but saith she was so sick that she did not know\nwhither she went.\u201d[113.1] A French writer a few years before this case\nrecorded the means taken by a Fleming who suffered from sorcery. He\ncut his nails of hands and feet, threw them into a pot of fresh water,\nand at night before he went to bed he put the pot on the fire and cast\nin four large needles. When the water began to boil, the witch could\nnot resist coming to his house, for the needles pricked her like\nspurs. She threw herself on his bed, but he threatened her with sword\nand dagger; and other persons rushing in to his help she fled in the\nform of a cat.[113.2] A mother and child at Spickendorf, in Prussia,\nwho were bewitched, were fumigated with nine kinds of wood, and the\nstraw was taken out of the cradle and thrust into the kitchen-furnace,\nwhere no fire had been lighted for four weeks. A clear flame\nimmediately burst forth and burnt the straw. The witch came to the\nhouse and tried to get in; but as the door was fastened she tried in\nvain. The end of this tale ought to be the witch\u2019s death and the\nrecovery of her victims. Unfortunately, however, it was the child who\ndied; and everybody said that the wise man who directed the ceremony\nwas called in too late for the fumigation to be effectual.[113.3]\n\n{114}\n\nNot merely the blood, hair and nails are dealt with: the remedy often\nlies in the _exuvi\u00e6_ of the person bewitched. Preservation of the\nurine in a closed vessel was prescribed when the patient was afflicted\nby a witch in the shape of a nightmare. This was sure to bring the\nsorceress to the house, for she would be unable to make water until\nthe vessel was opened. The prescription was, and still is, a favourite\nin the Low Countries, and that not merely for nightmares. Sometimes,\nthere and elsewhere, it is considered necessary to boil the contents\nof the vessel, or at least to hang it in the chimney, a course which\nadds greatly to the witch\u2019s torments. An old English recipe directs\nthe urine to be baked with meal into a cake.[114.1] On the island of\nLesbos a portion of the sufferer\u2019s dress, or of the threshold of the\nhouse where he dwells, is burnt to free him from the spell.[114.2] In\nItaly it is usual to boil the clothes of a bewitched child, sometimes\ntaking the precaution of sticking a long fork into them now and again\nduring the process. The child will recover and the witch will die. At\nVenice it is believed that the witch will present herself and ask for\nsalt; if it be given, the counter-charm is destroyed.[114.3] It is\ngenerally believed, indeed, that sooner or later she will be compelled\nto come to the house on some pretext. At Milan, in the spring of 1891,\na child was ill with some unknown and obstinate disorder--therefore\nbewitched. By the advice of a woman who pretended to know something of\n{115} medicine the parents boiled its clothes. A neighbour\u2019s wife\nhappening to call at that moment out of kindness to inquire after the\nlittle one, she was at once attacked by the parents. A raging crowd\nassembled and pursued her to the church of Santa Maria del Naviglio.\nThere, before the altar itself, she was savagely beaten; her hair was\ntorn out; and, despite the interference of the parish priest, she was\nfinally dragged back to the house of the sick child, and with blows\nand curses was ordered to disenchant her victim. Her protests of\ninnocence only called forth repeated howls, curses and blows. The\nwhole suburb of the Porta Ticinese was in an uproar; nor was it\nwithout much trouble that the military police at length succeeded in\nrescuing her more dead than alive, and in dispersing the mob. The\nwomen who had torn her hair from her head went home and burnt it,\nrunning afterwards to see if the child were not cured. They declared\nthey found it somewhat better, and exclaimed: \u201cSee now if it is not\ntrue that she is a witch!\u201d[115.1]\n\nThese cases all seem explicable by the supposition that the witch has\nunited herself in some way with the object of her spells, and thus\ninjury inflicted upon it, by any other hand than hers, will reach and\ninjure her. This is clearly so, for instance, where she bewitches\ncattle to draw away their milk. There she may be punished by\nvindictive action upon the milk, or upon the kine producing it. It is\nhardly less clear where she has, in the shape of a nightmare,\nappropriated an unfortunate man or animal as her steed; and the same\nreasoning applies to all the rest. {116} Perhaps it may not be\nconsidered an unwarrantable stretch of barbarous logic to regard the\ncasting of a spell as an act of appropriation parallel to theft.\nTheft, however, like any other act of appropriation, sets up union\nbetween the person appropriating, and the article appropriated.\nOwnership, by the process of thought I have endeavoured already to\ntrace, is in fact union; and injury inflicted upon a man\u2019s property is\nin a literal sense inflicted on himself.\n\n\n\n\n CHAPTER X.\n WITCHCRAFT: PHILTRES--PREVENTIVE AND REMEDIAL LEECHCRAFT.\n\n{117}\n\nIn the last chapter we dealt with that branch of witchcraft which\nhas been called Sympathetic Magic. There is another branch that will\nrepay a little attention, namely, the composition and administration\nof philtres. Many philtres are of course potions compounded of herbs\nand other substances known to ancient pharmacop\u0153ia. They are believed\nto have an effect partly inherent, partly conferred by spells. It is\nprobable, indeed, that all medicine has arisen out of witchcraft, in\nthe same way as chemistry, the true science, has emerged from alchemy,\nthe false, and astronomy from astrology. Witchcraft, alchemy and\nastrology are all related by very close ties. They are the practical\napplication of early beliefs and speculations growing out of one and\nthe same theory of the universe. So far as I know, the history of the\nevolution of medicine from witchcraft has not received the attention\nwhich the corresponding evolution of chemistry and astronomy has had;\nbut it is not less interesting, and in some respects it is even more\nsurprising. Among love-potions made of herbs or of portions of the\nlower animals it is often difficult, or impossible, to estimate how\nfar the virtue of the dose is conceived to be inherent in the {118}\ningredients, and how far it is conferred by spells or other\nobservances with which it is concocted. Sometimes the inherent virtue\nseems to preponderate; at other times the spell. In extreme cases on\nthe one hand the spells are absent, or are reduced to the simple\ndirection to cull the materials at a certain time, as in the case of\nthe Gipsy philtre consisting of the bones of a green frog powdered and\nmixed with cantharides and a well-sweetened dough, and baked into a\ncake. Here the frog must be caught on Saint John\u2019s day, put into a pot\nhaving holes in the sides, and sunk into an ant-hill until the ants\nhave picked the bones clean.[118.1] On the other hand, the ingredients\nare almost disregarded, and the spell it is that is relied on. So a\nphiltre reported by M. Laisnel de la Salle consists, like the other,\nof a little cake, of whose substance we are told nothing. Its power is\nobtained by being placed under the altar-cloth, so that the priest\nunwittingly says mass and sheds his benediction over it.[118.2]\n\nOur present business, however, is not with philtres like these, but\nrather with such as operate in a manner similar to the charms\ndescribed in the previous chapter, founded, as I am endeavouring to\nshow, upon the belief that portions of the body, though outwardly\nsevered, are still in some secret physical connection with one\nanother. In the Mark of Brandenburg a maiden causes the object of her\naffections to fall in love with her if she give him one of her hairs\nin his food, or a third person can compel a youth and maiden to love\nby laying a hair of each together between two stones in such a manner\nthat the wind can play with them.[118.3] According {119} to Gipsy\nbelief, love can be awakened by mixing one\u2019s sweat, blood or hairs\nwith the food of the person desired; and on the other hand it can be\ndestroyed by burning these substances.[119.1] Another Gipsy charm, and\none not unknown among the Russians, is made by a maiden who burns some\nof her hair to ashes and mingles them with the drink of the man she\nloves.[119.2] A Bohemian, or a Wendish maiden, is said to take some\nhairs from her arm and bake them in a cake for him.[119.3] Hairs are\nnot such enticing food as to be readily eaten: hence charms made of\nthem are likely to fail if this be necessary. It is, therefore, enough\nto convey them into the clothes of the beloved. A Transylvanian Saxon\nmaid can kindle love if she can contrive this; and if the hairs remain\nthere until New Year\u2019s morning the youth cannot forsake her that\nyear.[119.4] Formerly at all events a similar belief seems to have\nprevailed in Germany.[119.5] A Gipsy wife endeavours to bind her\nhusband to her by binding some of her own hair among his; but, to be\neffectual, it must be done thrice at the full moon. For this cause,\napparently, a widower on marrying again cuts off on the wedding day\nhis beard and hair and burns it. Spells cast by the dead wife are thus\ndestroyed. If {120} a man wish to bind a maiden to him, he obtains\nsome of her hairs, spits thereon, and hides them secretly in the\ncoffin of a dead man.[120.1] The writer who reports this charm also\ntells us that a Hungarian lover will secure the maiden by burying some\nof her hair at a cross-road. The cross-road is everywhere a place only\none degree less dreadful than the churchyard; and burial there is\ndoubtless a substitute for burial in the churchyard and committing the\nhair as a pledge to the keeping of the dead. A traveller in Ireland in\nthe early part of the last century declares that a love-sick Irish\nyouth will thread a needle with the hair of the damsel he covets and\nrun it through the fleshy part of the arm or leg of a corpse, \u201cand the\ncharm has that virtue in it to make her run mad for him whom she so\nlately slighted.\u201d Some light is perhaps thrown on these practices by\nthe corresponding charm said to be practised by Magyar girls. She who\ndesires to be loved steals some of the youth\u2019s hair and, throwing it\ntowards the moon, utters a prayer for his love and for marriage, \u201cif\nthat can be.\u201d[120.2] The hair is thus given to the moon, both as an\nact of worship, and that it may be the means whereby the object of\nworship may, in accordance with the belief discussed in the last\nchapter, constrain the original owner to compliance with the votary\u2019s\nwishes. Another Magyar practice confirms this interpretation. The\nfirst egg laid by a black hen is carefully blown and laid on the\nhearth to dry. Hairs, nail-parings, and some drops of blood of the\nperson whose love is desired are then introduced into it, and it is\nburied {121} in the grave-mound of an unbaptized child. After three\ndays it is dug up; and if any moisture be found inside the egg-shell\nsuccess is assured.[121.1] Here the moisture seems to be the work of\nthe dead child, and, brought thus into contact with portions of the\nbody of the beloved, it will have its effect upon him. More direct and\nmore in accordance with the cases cited in the earlier part of this\nparagraph is the superstition (also Hungarian) that a woman who can,\nafter reciting a certain spell, strip quite naked and in this\ncondition steal a lock of hair from a sleeping man, and binding it\nafterwards wear it in a bag or ring, will obtain absolute mastery over\nhis affections.[121.2] The same result is attained by a Wendish youth\nwho can cut hair thrice from the back of the neck of a sleeping maiden\nand keep it in his waistcoat pocket.[121.3] Among the charms carried\nby German settlers to Pennsylvania was one which prescribed as a means\nof rendering a girl crazy for a certain man, that he should without\nher knowledge get a piece of her hair and sew it in his coat.[121.4]\nAnd the witch in Apuleius\u2019 immortal tale bade her servant bring away\nfor some such purpose the clippings of the hair of the B\u0153otian youth\nof whom she was enamoured.[121.5] In Bohemia it is enough to {122}\nhide the hair under one\u2019s threshold or in the doorposts.[122.1]\nFarther south the Slavonic youth (the practice may also be followed by\na maiden) obtains a few hairs or a shred from the smock of the\nbeloved, and wrapping his prize up in a rag wears it upon his heart.\nIf he wish for her society, all he has to do is to throw it into the\nfire at new moon, and let it burn: the beloved will certainly\ncome.[122.2] This is the very charm given by the Helpful Beasts in the\n_m\u00e4rchen_. An amusing tale is told in Corsica of a youth who loved a\ngirl, from whom he could get no encouragement. So he begged her to\ngive him at least one of her hairs. She sent him a long camel\u2019s hair\ndrawn out of a sieve which hung on a nail in the kitchen. Towards\nmidnight the sieve tumbled down with a great noise and began to roll\nabout the floor. At last it found its way out of doors and rolled\nstraight to the lover\u2019s house, where he was impatiently expecting\nquite a different visitor.[122.3] A Prussian prescription for securing\na maiden\u2019s love is to stick three of her hairs in a split tree, so\nthat they must be grown over as the tree heals.[122.4] In some of the\ncentral Brazilian tribes, when a husband sets out on an expedition,\nthe wife takes and keeps portions of his nails or hair, that he may\nnot forget to return; and a woman who desires to win or preserve a\nman\u2019s love puts some of her nail-parings or hair in his cigar.[122.5]\nTo prevent a dog in Germany from straying, three of his hairs are\ntaken out and {123} laid in the kitchen under the leg of the table; or\nhe is made to eat in a cake hairs from his master\u2019s armpit. To keep a\nnewly purchased cow a handful of hair is cut from between her ears and\nburied before the stable door.[123.1]\n\nA cake, an apple or a sweetmeat impregnated with the sweat of the\ngiver is a powerful philtre throughout the greater part of northern\nand central Europe from Cairn Gorm to the Carpathians. Sugar in the\nsame condition is sometimes given in drink.[123.2] Nor can I suggest\nany better reason for the Hungarian recommendation to a lass to steal\nmeal and honey at Christmas, bake a cake thereout and take it to bed\nwith her for one night, afterwards giving it to the lad of her choice\nto eat.[123.3] When a spell has been cast upon a Finnish woman to wean\nher affections from her husband, they may be recalled by drinking of a\nrunning stream out of his shoe and throwing the shoe upside down over\nher shoulder.[123.4] Here too the chief motive seems the same. Among\nthe Pennsylvanian Germans an instance was known by Dr. Hoffmann of a\nwidow who sent a cake, one of the ingredients whereof was a small\nquantity of cuticle scraped from her knee, to a man whose love she\ndesired.[123.5] The bread mentioned by Burchard of Worms, as made by\nwomen and given to their husbands to inflame their conjugal passion,\nappears to have owed its efficacy to the absorption of their\nperspiration or particles of skin; and the interpretation is confirmed\nby the confessors\u2019 manuals formerly, if not still, in use in the Greek\nChurch, where {124} women are accused of the practice of rubbing dough\non their bodies, and giving to eat to men in whom they wished to\narouse satanic love.[124.1] It is a Negro-Indian, as well as a\nBelgian, superstition that if you give a dog some bread soaked in your\nsweat, he will have to follow you to the ends of the earth: he is\nyours.[124.2] He has eaten and absorbed into his own substance a part\nof you, and has thus become united with you.\n\nOne\u2019s blood is of course a powerful potion. In Denmark the\nprescription is three drops introduced into an apple or dropped into a\ncup of coffee, and so consumed by the person intended.[124.3] In\nTransylvania a girl puts a drop from her left hand in a cake to be\neaten by the lad on New Year\u2019s Eve.[124.4] An old recipe in the\nNetherlands--and one current, with variations, in other parts of\nEurope--is to take a wafer not yet consecrated, write some words on it\nwith blood from the ring-finger, and let the priest say five masses\nover it. Then divide it into two equal parts and give one to the\nperson whose love is to be won, retaining the other half oneself. Many\na chaste maiden has been fordone by this means.[124.5] Blood, as well\nas hair and sweat, is an approved philtre among the Danubian Gipsies\nboth for inward and outward application. A bride and bridegroom of the\nnorthern stock, before setting out for their wedding, smear the soles\nof their left feet with one another\u2019s blood. And a bride of the\nsouthern stock, or a bride of the Serbian {125} Gipsies, will seek on\nher wedding night to smear unobserved a drop of blood from her left\nhand in her husband\u2019s hair, in order that he may be true to her.\nGipsies also give their blood to their cattle and dogs to prevent them\nfrom being stolen, or perhaps from straying.[125.1] Among the Magyars,\nif a girl can smear the warm blood of the little finger of her left\nhand in a lad\u2019s hair, he must always be thinking of her; and a man who\ncan induce his wife unwittingly to eat his name written in his blood\ncan thus assure her fidelity.[125.2] A maiden who can get some of a\nyouth\u2019s blood unknown to him and rub it on the soles of a corpse binds\nhim to her for ever.[125.3] But, alike in Esthonia, in Denmark, in\nGermany and in Italy, in Scotland, in the valley of the Danube, and,\nif we may trust the confessors\u2019 manuals just cited, in the Balkan\npeninsula, a woman regards her menstruous blood as the most effective:\nan opinion rife, too, among the mixed population of central\nBrazil.[125.4] Conversely, the other sex has its peculiar product,\nwhich is equally esteemed;[125.5] while the impurer issues of the body\n{126} common to both sexes are also made use of.[126.1] Students are\nreferred to the authorities below-cited for details.\n\nSaliva is also a favourite fluid. I have already mentioned some\napplications of it. In Hungary it often supplies the place of\nblood.[126.2] Gipsy girls in the valley of the Danube steal some of\nthe hair of their beloved, boil it down to a pap with quince-kernels\nand a few drops of their own blood taken from the little finger of the\nleft hand. They chew this pap, repeating a charm, and then smear it on\nthe raiment of the youth, in order that he may find no rest, unless\nwith the maid who has thus bespelled him.[126.3] Or a blade of grass\ngathered on Saint George\u2019s Day before sunrise is held in the mouth\nwhile a spell is muttered; and it is then placed in the food of the\nperson whose affection is sought.[126.4] In the early part of this\ncentury rustic lovers in France were said to seal their troth by\nspitting into one another\u2019s mouths.[126.5] Signor Gigli reports a\ncurious custom {127} at Taranto, the origin and significance whereof\nare not clear to him, but perhaps may be explained by the practices we\nare now considering. A young man announces his love by prowling about\nunder the windows of the fair one. She easily understands what he\nmeans, and, if averse to the match, withdraws inside the house. On the\nother hand, if desirous of encouraging her suitor, she leans out and\nspits on his happy head.[127.1] Among the Cherokees a young and\njealous bridegroom watches his bride until she sleeps, when he begins\nto chant:\n\n \u201cListen! O now you have drawn near to hearken--\n Your spittle I take it, I eat it.\u201d\n\nRepeating this four times (four is a sacred number among the American\naborigines), he moistens his fingers with saliva and rubs it on her\nbreast. The ceremony is reiterated, with variations in the song, the\nthree following nights, and is wound up on each occasion with a prayer\naddressed to the \u201cAncient One;\u201d after which no husband need have any\nfears about his wife.[127.2] In Silesia and in certain parts of Italy\nbread whereon one has spit is given to a dog to attach him to the\ngiver.[127.3] In other parts of Italy, in Corsica and in the Gironde\nthe direction is to spit into his mouth.[127.4] About Chemnitz a goose\nis passed between the legs thrice and given three mouthfuls of chewed\nbread; and she will always come home.[127.5]\n\nMany of the philtres I have mentioned are put into food. {128}\nFood-philtres are not always equally objectionable in character. It is\na Scandinavian saying that if a girl and boy eat of one morsel, they\ngrow fond of each other.[128.1] In many parts of the East Indies the\ncustom of chewing betel-nut is universal, and the quid has become a\nsymbol of love. It is employed as a love charm; it is given as a\npledge of love; and the chewing by both parties of one quid is an\nessential--indeed, _the_ essential--part of the wedding\nceremony.[128.2] The idea embodied in food-philtres underlies also\nother usages. A familiar example is that of drinking at the Fountain\nof Trevi by visitors to Rome before they leave, as a charm to draw\nthem back.\n\nMany of the philtres, too, as we have seen, are deemed sufficient if\nbrought into contact with the beloved object by being placed upon, or\nfastened into, his or her clothes. A few examples may be added. Magyar\npeasants make a sort of fetish which bears the name of _czolonk_. It\nis fashioned at Christmas of aspen-wood, is an efficient protection\nnot only against witches and devils, but also against bullets and\nswords, and accordingly is worn next to the skin in all perilous\nenterprises. Every year the old one is burnt, and the ashes mixed with\nmilk are scattered in the cattle-stalls. But a love-spell may be\nframed by sprinkling the _czolonk_ with one\u2019s own blood before burning\nit, and strewing the ashes on the garments of the person to be\nlove-witched.[128.3] A Gipsy girl will drop warm blood from her left\nfoot secretly in the shoes or stockings of her beloved, so to bind his\nfootsteps night and day to herself.[128.4] In Hesse it seems to be\neven {129} enough to steal a shoe or boot from the object of desire,\ncarry it about for eight days, and then restore it.[129.1] Lucian,\nwriting in the second century, makes mention of a different mode of\ndealing with a man\u2019s belongings. The witch takes some portion of his\nclothing, or a few hairs, or something else of his, and hanging them\non a nail she fumigates them with incense, and sprinkling salt in the\nfire she pronounces the name of the woman, with it coupling the man\u2019s\nname. Further spells are muttered to the twirling of a spindle; and\nthe charm is complete. If we may believe one of the interlocutors in\nthe Dialogue, the spell is most effective, for she had herself tested\nits power.[129.2] It can hardly be more effective than the boiling of\na sock on Saint Thomas\u2019 night, said to be practised in the Land beyond\nthe Forest, which has given rise to the proverbial expression, for one\nwho is restless, that some one has boiled his stockings.[129.3]\nTheocritus, in his second idyll, presents Simaetha casting into the\nmagical flame some fringe from the cloak of Delphis, whom she loves,\nas part of a similar charm to that mentioned by Lucian. Any youth on\nwhose raiment a maiden of the Seven Cities has bound a thread spun by\nherself on Saint Andrew\u2019s Day (30th November) will be inflamed with\nlove for her.[129.4] Albanian wives (as provident as the wives in\nBrazil) are in the habit of sewing in their husbands\u2019 gear {130} when\nthe latter are going from home little objects which they themselves\nhave worn as talismans, to bring them safely back.[130.1] In Eastern\nAfrica no Taveta woman will part with her loin-cloth to a man for any\nconsideration after she has once worn it, for \u201cshe would be under some\nsexual subjection to him\u201d; he could bewitch her by means of it, and\ntake her away from her husband and friends.[130.2]\n\nThe speaker in the Dialogue I have cited from Lucian goes on to tell\nher friend of an easy and efficient method of destroying a rival\u2019s\ninfluence over the beloved. It is to watch the unhappy rival as she\nwalks and to efface her footprint, immediately it is made, with her\nown, taking care to put her right foot in her rival\u2019s left footmark,\nand _vice vers\u00e2_, and repeating the while: \u201cNow I am over thee, and\nthou art under me.\u201d This is not exactly a philtre: it rather belongs\nto the practices dealt with in the last chapter. Among the Danubian\npeoples, however, love-charms are made from footprints. A Gipsy girl,\nfor instance, digs up the youth\u2019s footprint made upon Saint George\u2019s\nDay, and buries it under a willow (willows are favourite trees in\nGipsy sorcery), saying:\n\n \u201cEarth pairs with the Earth;\n He too whom I love shall become mine!\n Grow, willow, grow,\n Take away my heart\u2019s woe!\n He the axe and I the haft,\n I the hen and he the cock--\n  That is my aim.\u201d[130.3]\n\n{131}\n\nIn Transylvania a Saxon maid will dig up her lover\u2019s footmark, made on\nSt. John\u2019s Day, and burn it, to secure his fidelity; or she may obtain\nequally good results any other day by burying his footmark in the\nchurchyard.[131.1] A Magyar lass on Christmas night will dig up her\nown footprint and fling it unseen into the courtyard of the lad\u2019s\ndwelling: he can never leave her after.[131.2] Among the Southern\nSlavs the lady fills a flowerpot with the earth of her swain\u2019s\nfootstep, and plants in it a common marigold. This flower is said not\nto wither; and in German lands it is planted upon graves and called\nthe flower of the dead. As it grows and blooms and does not fade away,\nso will the youth\u2019s love grow and blossom and never fade.[131.3]\n\nThe sacramental character of all these philtres is obvious. We saw in\nthe last chapter that injuries inflicted on detached portions of a\nman\u2019s body are felt by the bulk. In the same way, when the detached\nportions become incorporated into another body, or are simply brought\ninto contact with it, by means of the philtres we have been\ndiscussing, the two bodies are united; and their union manifests\nitself in sympathy and sexual desire. The greater number of the\nforegoing examples have been drawn from the backward classes of the\nmore civilised peoples, concerning which our information is in many\ncases remarkably full. When, however, we come to consider nuptial\nrites we shall find the sacramental conception entering into the idea\nof sexual union over a much wider area. Meanwhile we proceed to\nexamine some of its manifestations in other beliefs and practices.\n\n{132}\n\nWe will begin by dealing with some of the dangers, apart from\nwitchcraft, that beset the body by carelessness over its severed\nparts.\n\nA belief not uncommon is that great care must be taken in the disposal\nof an amputated limb, lest evil consequences to the trunk ensue. Quite\nrecently in New England a serious consultation was held by the friends\nof a man who had had his foot amputated as the result of crushing it\nin a railway accident; and it was decided to burn it, \u201cin order that\nthe stump should not always continue to be painful, and the man\ntroubled by disagreeable sensations, as would surely follow if the\nfoot were put into the ground.\u201d[132.1] Similar dangers threaten the\nman who clips his hair or cuts his nails. In Sussex the peasantry\nallow no portion of their hair to be carelessly thrown away, lest a\nbird find it and carry it off to work into its nest; for, until it had\nfinished, the true owner of the hair would suffer from headache. Or if\na toad get hold of a maiden\u2019s long back hairs, she will have a cold in\nher head for so long as the animal keeps the hair in its mouth.[132.2]\nIn Germany also the action of birds is dreaded--especially theft by a\nstarling, for then cataract will ensue. Hair is therefore burnt, or\nthrown into running water.[132.3] Headache is the result of throwing\naway hairs in the Tirol. Wherefore they are burnt, or in the\nUnterinnthal, if thrown away, are first spit upon.[132.4] In Norway\nthe consequences are even worse: there the owner of a hair {133}\nobtained by a toad will lose his reason.[133.1] In the Atlantic States\nof North America the combings of the hair must not be thrown away, but\nburned, for the same reason as in Sussex, or because the birds might\ncarry them to Hell, and so render it necessary for the owner to go\nthither to recover them.[133.2] Among the Danubian Gipsies, hair which\nhas fallen, or been cut off, is a source of anxiety. Headache will be\ncaused by the birds working it into their nests, and can only be\nrelieved by a complicated counter-charm. If a snake be guilty of\ncarrying hair into its hole, the man from whose head it has come will\ncontinue to lose more, until that in the snake\u2019s hole has decayed\naway.[133.3] The Undups of Borneo will not burn their refuse hair, nor\nthrow it into the water, for fear of headache. But it may be flung to\nthe winds, or cast on the ground: it is better still to bury it. On\nthe other hand, the tribes about Lake Nyassa burn their hair; but they\nbury the parings of their nails.[133.4] At the other side of the\nAfrican continent, among the Bodo, the nails are buried;[133.5] while\nthe Wayova of the Upper Congo, when they become old or sick, tie the\nclippings of their hair and nails with amulets in a string which they\nwear wrapped around them.[133.6] In Mashonaland the hair is not cut\nuntil it is long and tangled, and too full of life to be endured any\nlonger. It is then shaved entirely off and hung to a tree.[133.7] The\npractices of the Western world {134} are similar. The natives of the\nYoukon river in Alaska hang what they cut from their hair and nails in\npackages on the trees.[134.1] The Gauchos of the Pampas of South\nAmerica deem it of the utmost imprudence to throw away their hairs,\nwherefore they roll them up in a ball and hide them in the walls of\nthe house.[134.2] In the Cuyab\u00e1 valley of central Brazil it is\nbelieved that to tread on hair-clippings is to render insane the man\nfrom whose head they came.[134.3] The Maoris attached great importance\nto the cutting of the hair. It was always performed with much ceremony\nand many spells. In one place the most sacred day of the year was\nappointed for it: the people assembled from all the neighbourhood,\noften more than a thousand in number. Some of the hair was cast into\nthe fire. Elsewhere the hair was laid upon the altar in the sacred\ngrove, and there left.[134.4] Algerian Jews and Arabs and Orthodox\nPolish Jews carefully bury or burn their nail-parings.[134.5] A\nGalician Jew will not throw away the cuttings of his hair, lest he\nsuffer from headache.[134.6] It seems, indeed, a general opinion among\nJews, if we may trust an American Jew, that \u201che who trims his nails\nand buries the parings is a pious man; he who burns them is a\nrighteous man; but he who throws them away is a wicked man, for\nmischance might follow should a female step over them.\u201d[134.7] Contact\nwith menstrual {135} blood, and consequent ceremonial defilement, is\nevidently what is dreaded, just as if the blood had touched the man\nhimself. For some such reason, perhaps, the Flamen Dialis was\nrequired, among the Romans, when he cut his hair or his nails, to bury\nthe severed portions beneath a lucky tree.[135.1] Ahura Mazda is\ngravely represented in the _Vend\u00eed\u00e2d_ as telling Zoroaster that when\na man drops his refuse hair or nails in a hole or crack, and observes\nnot the lawful rites, lice are produced, which destroy the corn in the\nfield and the clothes in the wardrobe. The prophet is commanded,\ntherefore, to take these portions of the body, whenever they are\ndetached, ten paces from the faithful, twenty from the fire, thirty\nfrom the water and fifty from the consecrated bundles of baresma, and\nthere to dig a hole, drawing three, six or nine furrows around it with\na metal knife, and chanting the _Ahuna-Vairya_ a corresponding number\nof times. In the hole he is to bury the hair or nails, saying aloud\nthe fiend-smiting (though slightly irrelevant) words, in the case of\nhair: \u201cOut of him by his piety Mazda made the plants grow up\u201d; or in\nthe case of nails: \u201cThe words that are heard from the pious in\nholiness and good thought\u201d; and the nails are to be dedicated to the\nAsh\u00f4-zusta bird, which is believed to be the owl, as weapons for him\nagainst the Da\u00eavas.[135.2] This elaborate ritual and the belief it\nembodies are, of course, comparatively late in civilisation; but they\nare an adaptation to Zoroaster\u2019s lofty religion of pre-existing\nsuperstitions. In the _Grihya-S\u00fbtra_, one of the ancient books of the\nHindus, it is enjoined as a religious rite to gather the hair and\nnails which have been cut off, mix them with bull\u2019s dung {136} (the\nbull was a sacred animal) and bury the whole in a cow-stable, or near\nan Udumbara-tree, or in a clump of Darbha-grass. And when a boy\nreceived the tonsure, in the third year of his age, the barber threw\nthe locks upon the same savoury substance, which was then buried in\nthe forest. The hair left on the head was arranged according to the\ncustom of his _gotra_ and of his family.[136.1] The ritual first\nshaving now takes place in India at the shrine of some goddess; and\nthe locks are safely deposited in a place where they are not liable to\nbe trodden on.[136.2] In Japan, when a boy, at or after the age of\nfifteen, receives his permanent name, and is admitted to the\nprivileges of manhood, his forelock is ceremonially cut. It is taken\nby the sponsor to the youth\u2019s guardians, who wrap it in paper and\noffer it at the shrine of the family gods; or else it is kept with\ncare in the house until its owner dies, and then put into the coffin\nwith him.[136.3] Throughout the East Indian islands much importance is\nattached to the first hair-cutting. On Timor it takes place three\nmonths after birth, at new moon. The child\u2019s eldest uncle cuts a lock\nfrom four places on the head with a bamboo knife, and wrapping each of\nthe locks in a flake of cotton he blows it away from the palm of his\nhand into the air. More usually it is carefully preserved. In North\nCelebes the rite is performed by a priest. The clippings are put into\na young cocoa-nut and hung up under the thatch of the house. Another\ntribe {137} of the same island puts the hair, moistened with\nsweet-scented oil, into a young kalapa-fruit, and hangs it before the\nhouse above the ladder until it fall in course of time. The Ambonese\nbury the clippings under a sago-palm, or lay them in a silver box with\nan amulet against sickness and hang it about the child\u2019s neck. The Aru\nIslanders hide them in a pisang- or banana-tree. The inhabitants of\nRoti lay them first with water in a cocoa-nut-shell; afterwards the\nfather stuffs them into a little bag of plaited leaves, which he\nfastens in the top of a loutar-palm.[137.1] The Bambaras, a tribe of\nthe Upper Niger, celebrate the birth of a child by the sacrifice of a\nbull or sheep at the door of the mother\u2019s hut. The infant\u2019s head is\nthen shaved, and the hair is placed in a calabash containing dega, a\ncomposition of millet and milk prepared for the occasion. The friends\ninvited to the feast then place each one his right hand on the\ncalabash, while the griot, or medicine-man, pronounces blessings on\nthe babe. The hairs are afterwards given to the mother, who carefully\npreserves them.[137.2] Among the Ictasanda _gens_ of the Omahas of\nNorth America, when a child had reached four years his hair had to be\ncut in the customary shape. The proper person to cut the first lock\nwas the keeper of the sacred pipes. It was done with certain\nceremonies; and the lock was put with those of other children cut at\nthe same time into a sacred buffalo hide.[137.3] There may have been\nmore reasons than one for {138} placing hair ceremonially cut on\noccasions like these in a sacred receptacle. This is a subject to\nwhich I shall return. But it is clear that one object at all events\nwas safe custody. The locks thus shorn from the head must be guarded\nwith care, lest any evil come to them, and through them to the person\nof whose body they once formed part.\n\nFor many of the practices we are considering no reason is assigned by\nthe travellers and others who report them. Sometimes fantastic reasons\nare given, even by the people who practise them. It is for fear of\nancestral spirits, we are told, that the natives of the lake regions\nof Nyassa and Tanganyika bury their hair and nails. The Esthonians are\nsaid to take care of their nails, else the devil will make of them a\nvisor to his head-gear; and their national poem, the _Kalevipoeg_,\nmentions a wishing-hat of the same materials. The dread of the\nSamogitians is that the devil will make a hat of their\nnail-parings.[138.1] A Basque tale attributes to the same personage\nthe equally remarkable feat of making a chalice for himself out of the\nnails cut by Christians on Sundays.[138.2] Among the ancient\nScandinavians it was a point of religion to die with pared nails, for\nof the unpared nails would be constructed the ship Naglfari, to float,\nsteered by the giant Hrym, over the waters to the combat with the\nAnses on the Day of Doom. A modern Icelandic superstition accounts for\nthe custom of cutting each nail-paring into three pieces, by\nexplaining that it is to render it useless to the devil, who would\nelse use it in building the ship of the dead.[138.3] Reasons like\nthese, though genuine, are only secondary. They are mythological\nreasons, more or less remote from the direct interest of the\nindividual, {139} invented when the original reasons have passed out\nof memory, or been dropped from some other cause, as in the case of\nthe practices adopted into the Zoroastrian religion.\n\nSimilar superstitions apply to milk. In Transylvania it is reckoned\ndangerous to a woman who has recently been delivered for another\nsuckling woman even to visit her, lest she take her milk away. To\nprevent this the visitor must let a drop or two of her own milk fall\nupon the bed where her friend lies.[139.1] At Friuli a woman was\naccused before the Holy Inquisition of drying up another by merely\nentering her house and kissing her child in the cradle.[139.2] Among\nthe causes enumerated in Italy for a woman\u2019s milk diminishing or\ndrying up are--that the placenta has been eaten by some female animal;\nthat another suckling woman has drunk out of her cup; that the remains\nof her food have been thrown to a suckling cat, sow, or bitch. If\neither of these contingencies happen, the milk will be transferred to\nthe other woman or animal. No less disastrous is it to the supply if\nany drops fall by chance on the ground and be sucked up by\nants.[139.3] A woman who is suckling must beware of letting a drop of\nher milk fall into the fire, for then her breasts would dry up.[139.4]\nContrariwise, if a Magyar mother desire a rich, nourishing milk, she\nis advised to drop a little of it at waxing moon upon the blazing\nhearth. If she drop some into cow\u2019s milk, the cow will dry up:\napparently the cow\u2019s milk will be thus transferred {140} to the\nwoman.[140.1] In Warwickshire the burning of cow\u2019s milk will cause the\ncow to run dry; and a like belief attaches among various tribes of\nAfrica, even to the boiling of milk, as well as to its consumption by\n\u201cany one who ate the flesh of pigs, fish, fowls, or the bean called\nmaharagu\u00e9.\u201d[140.2] In Switzerland it is held that a knife or needle\ndipped in the milk reaches the beast which has yielded it, and causes\npain as if wounded in the udder.[140.3] It seems to have been\ncurrently believed in the seventeenth century in France, that if milk\ncurdled too rapidly, a little of it thrown upon a hawthorn would\nretard the process.[140.4] About Chemnitz to mix the milk of two men\u2019s\ncows, is to cause the cows of one to dry up.[140.5] In Altmark some\nmilk of a badly milking cow is poured into the well of a neighbour who\nhas a good milker, and thereupon the condition of both is\nchanged.[140.6]\n\nSo of saliva. We have seen that, equally with other issues of the\nbody, saliva is a means of witchcraft, whereby the spitter may be\ninjured and perhaps done to death. Wherefore all over the world, from\nAfrica to the Sandwich Islands, from Europe to New Zealand, the\nspittle is hidden or erased as soon as it is ejected, so that it can\nno longer be discovered or rendered available by sorcerers. By parity\nof reasoning, in Sweden and Germany, as well as among the Galician\nJews, one is forbidden to spit in the fire, lest bladders be produced\non the tongue, or other {141} sores in the mouth;[141.1] and in\nvarious parts of France, lest pulmonary consumption result. To spit on\nglowing iron, in the department of Aube, is almost as bad; and in the\nGironde it is believed that a cold will be increased by spitting in\nthe fire.[141.2]\n\nSo too of other portions of the body. The Poles say that a girl who\ndrops tears on a corpse will become consumptive. At Zwickau in the\nErzgebirge any who does so is in danger of an early death.[141.3] A\nfine appreciation of the antiseptic properties of tobacco is reputed\nto be shown by some French smokers, who preserve in their\ntobacco-pouches the teeth lost from their heads, believing by this\nmeans to prevent toothache.[141.4] It used to be the custom in\nDerbyshire to preserve all one\u2019s shed teeth in a jar until death, and\nthen to have them buried in the coffin with their owner; for, it was\nsaid, on reaching heaven the man would be obliged to account for all\nthe teeth he had upon earth: an obvious afterthought, and not the real\nreason.[141.5] I have already mentioned the English superstition that\na child\u2019s cast tooth must not be thrown away, but burnt. The practice\non the Riviera is the same.[141.6] In Piceno the infant is made to\nhide the tooth in a crack of the {142} hearth, in the hope of finding\na gift the next morning. In the Abruzzi it is enough to put it into\nany hole.[142.1] While among the southern Slavs the child is\ninstructed to throw it into a dark corner, crying: \u201cMouse, mouse!\nThere is a bony tooth; give me an iron tooth instead.\u201d He is then to\nspit; and this is done that no more teeth may fall out. Sometimes his\ncast tooth is plugged into an old willow, that he may never suffer\nfrom toothache.[142.2] In the Erzgebirge, to attain the same end the\nfather is told to swallow a daughter\u2019s tooth, and the mother a\nson\u2019s.[142.3] The origin of the superstition, widely spread in Europe,\nthat the mother should bite and not cut a baby\u2019s nails, may possibly\nbe found in some analogous reason.\n\nThe liability to injury in consequence of an accident happening to, or\nwilful act inflicted on, a detached portion of the body or its issues,\nimplies the opposite possibility. Good may be received, health may be\nrestored by the same means. Hence has arisen a great body of\nfolk-medicine and surgery. Incidentally we have already noticed some\nexamples of this; but the most familiar is undoubtedly to be found in\nthe cure of warts. To rub the warts with a piece of flesh-meat\n(various kinds are prescribed--in this country beef or bacon seems the\nfavourite) usually raw, and {143} then to bury it in the ground, or\nthrow it where it will speedily rot and disappear; to rub them with an\napple, an onion, a potato, a turnip, a willow-twig whereon a\ncorresponding number of notches has been cut, peas, beans, knots of\nbarley-straw, a branch of tamarisk, or some other vegetable substance\neasily obtained, and afterwards bury, burn it or throw it away; to tie\nknots in string, touch every wart with a knot, and then treat the\nstring like the meat; to stroke the warts with a corpse\u2019s hand; to\nwash them in flowing water, especially at a time when bells are\ntolling for the dead, or over which the corpse is carried, or in water\nfound in a hollow stump or other unexpected place; to rub them with a\nsnail, and then impale the creature on a thorn or (in Germany) nail it\nto the doorpost with a wooden hammer; are remedies known all over\nEurope and the United States; and they date back to classical\nantiquity. The beef, the apple, the string, the dead hand decay; the\nwater flows far out of sight, or dries up; and in like manner the\nwarts they have touched also disappear.\n\nThe principle has many other applications. A remedy for fever in use\nin the sixteenth century in the Mark of Brandenburg was to cut the\npatient\u2019s nails, bind them on the back of a crawfish, and throw the\ncrustacean back into flowing water.[143.1] In France, and, it seems,\nin England also, the remedy recorded a century later for the quartan\nague was to wrap the nail-parings in a portion of a shroud, and fasten\nthe package around the neck of an eel, which was then {144} returned\nto the water.[144.1] In these cases it can hardly be doubted that the\nsufferer was to benefit by the cooling influence of the water. In the\nnorth-east of Scotland it was usual to put the nail-parings of a\nconsumptive patient into a rag from his clothes, the rag was waved\nthrice round his head, the operator crying \u201cDeas Soil,\u201d and then\nburied in a secret place.[144.2] For ligature, or impotence, believed\nto be caused by witchcraft, the cuttings of the hair and nails are, in\nGermany, wrapped in a cloth, stuffed into a hole made in an\nelder-tree, and the hole closed with a plug of hawthorn.[144.3] For\ninfantine rupture, in Switzerland, some of the child\u2019s nails and hair,\nwith a piece of paper inscribed with his name, are put into a hole\nbored in a young oak, and the hole is then stopped with wax.[144.4]\nAmong the Transylvanian Saxons at Kronstadt the hair and nails of an\nan\u00e6mic patient are buried under a waxing moon beneath a\nrose-bush.[144.5] Here the rose is evidently expected to diffuse its\ncolour in the sick man\u2019s veins. The collection just cited of old\nremedies in use in the Mark of Brandenburg directs that when hairs\ngrow in an ulcer they should be plucked out and nailed up in an elder\nor oak-tree towards the east.[144.6] The ancient English leech-book\nattributed to one Sextus Placitus prescribes, for a woman suffering\nfrom flux, to comb her hair under a mulberry tree, and hang the\ncombings on an upstanding twig of the tree. When she is healed she\nmust gather them again and preserve them. If on the contrary she {145}\ndesire _ut menstrua fluant_, the combings must be placed upon a twig\nhanging downwards.[145.1] The mulberry appears to be chosen because of\nthe form and colour of its fruit, in accordance with the old doctrine\nof Signatures whereby the remedy for a disease was pointed out by some\nfancied resemblance of form or colour to the diseased member. To\nrestore falling hair, Etmuller, writing in the seventeenth century,\nadvises burying some of the hair in an oak, or, to cure the gout, some\nof the toe-nails. Bronchitis in growing children is cured, among the\nPennsylvanian Germans, by making a gimlet-hole in the door-frame at\nthe exact height of the child\u2019s head. A tuft of his hair is inserted,\nand the hole pegged up. As the child grows above the peg he will\noutgrow the disease. The door-frame appears to be a mere substitute\nfor a tree.[145.2]\n\nSpecimens of this kind of remedy might be multiplied indefinitely.\nThey are usually regarded as cases of transplantation. By the process\ndescribed the disease is supposed to be transferred, or transplanted,\ninto the tree, or very often into another human being or one of the\nlower animals. This idea is present in a recipe for fever given by\nBeckherius, whose medical work was published in London in 1660. He\nadvises the tying of the patient\u2019s nail-clippings in a rag to the door\nof a neighbour\u2019s {146} house:[146.1] a remedy equally known to the\nRomans.[146.2] Rupture in a young person is to be cured in Thuringia\nby cutting three tufts of hair from the top of the head, binding them\nin a clean cloth, carrying the parcel into another parish, and so\nburying it in a young willow that the hole may close up and grow\ntogether.[146.3] We can hardly understand apart from transplantation\nthe direction to carry the parcel into another parish and there plant\nit in a tree, or to fasten the rag of nail-clippings to a neighbour\u2019s\ndoor. At other times the hair and nails are given in food to various\nanimals, or are thrown in the highway to be picked up by any\npasser-by, who is supposed to contract the disease and thereby free\nthe original patient. Many of the cases, however, which have been\nclassed as transplantation are not really so; for it will be noted\nthat it is a very common direction (as in the prescription just cited)\nto carefully close up the hole made in the tree, and as it heals the\npatient\u2019s health will improve. But if the disease were to be\ntransferred to the tree, the latter could scarcely be expected to\nheal; and if it did, there would be ground for suspecting that the\nrite had not been properly performed. Formerly it was a very common\nremedy for rupture and other infantile complaints to split a tree and\npass the child through it three or seven times. The tree was then\nbound up and often plastered with clay, so as to ensure its recovery;\nand it was believed that the more rapidly it healed, the more rapidly\nthe child would be restored to health. In fact, as we have seen, it\nthenceforth stood in relation to the child as his External Soul or\nLife-token. The earliest mention of this prescription {147} is by\nMarcellus of Bordeaux, physician of the Emperor Theodosius I., not\nlater than the beginning of the fifth century of our era; and it has\ncontinued in use, even in England, down to the present day. From first\nto last the importance of the tree\u2019s recovery and preservation has\nbeen a cardinal point.[147.1] It is perfectly clear, therefore, that\nwhatever the intention of the rite may have been, it was not\ntransplantation. Transplantation, in fact, seems to be a foreign graft\non many of the old prescriptions. It may be questioned, for example,\nwhether it is the primitive idea of either Beckherius\u2019 prescription or\nthe Thuringian; and I cannot help thinking that the doctrine of\nTransplantation is a modern interpretation of an older rite, an\ninterpretation which has in many cases wrought such changes in its\nsubstance that the true and profounder significance of the rite is now\nhardly to be recognised. This may not hold good in every instance. The\nquestion, however, is immaterial to my present contention, and cannot\nbe argued at length here. It is enough for my purpose to prove that a\nlarge class of remedies cannot be explained as Transplantation,\nalthough the theory of Transplantation may have a tendency to\nappropriate and modify them. The remarks which follow will, I hope,\nmake the position clear.\n\nMagyar folk-medicine prescribes a curious remedy for {148} lunacy. The\nhead of a corpse is wetted with the patient\u2019s blood and saliva, so\nthat \u201che may obtain as much intellect as the dead man had\u201d: in other\nwords, the crazy man is brought into such union with the dead as will\nresult, not in the transfer to the latter of his lunacy, but the\ntransfer to the lunatic of the intellect of the dead. Similarly, the\ntoothache is cured by spitting on a grave-mound, or rubbing the aching\ntooth with the tooth of a corpse, which perhaps is sound, or at all\nevents can no longer suffer.[148.1] If it be desired to render a woman\nunfruitful, the organs of a dead man, whose potency is at an end, must\nbe rubbed with her menses. It is even deemed sufficient for her to\nmake water on a corpse. For the green-sickness, a few drops of the\nsick man\u2019s blood mingled with the excrement of one who is recently\ndead, and flung into the open grave just before the body is put in,\nwill prove a cure.[148.2] To stay bleeding, the Saxons of the Seven\nCities write with the blood the letters INRI on a piece of wood and\nthrow it into a spring, saying: \u201cThree women of the spring\n(_Brunnenfrauen_, spirits of the spring) wish to behold blood. They\nsay: Blood, stand still, that is God\u2019s will! Out of this wood the\ncross whereon Jesus hung, was made. Amen!\u201d A syphilitic patient is\ndirected, on three several Sundays while the bells are ringing for\ndivine service, to write his name in his own blood on his drawers,\nand, hanging them on a tree, there to leave them permanently.[148.3]\n{149} The Gipsies of the same neighbourhood cure pimples by dropping\nbefore sunrise some blood from the ring-finger into flowing water,\nthat it may be swallowed by a Nivashi, or water-spirit; and they cure\ndropsy by letting nine drops of blood from the index-finger fall, by a\nwaning moon, into flowing water, that the Nivashi may draw the water\nfrom the patient\u2019s body.[149.1] A prescription recorded by Reginald\nScot for a bloody flux runs as follows: \u201cTake a cup of cold water, and\nlet fall thereinto three drops of the same blood, and betweene each\ndrop saie a Paternoster and an Ave, then drinke to the patient, and\nsaie; who shall helpe you? The patient must answer S. Marie. Then saie\nyou; S. Marie stop the issue of blood.\u201d[149.2] It will be observed\nhere that the blood is drunk by the operator; and it could not have\nbeen intended to transfer the disease to him. The invocations as given\nare certainly not part of the original rite. What that rite was, of\ncourse we do not know. We may conjecture that the primitive operator\nwas a sort of shaman in special communion with his god. The patient\u2019s\nblood, entering him, would be brought into contact with the god; and\nthe god through it would be united with the patient for his healing.\n\nIn the light of examples like these we must interpret many\nprescriptions which have been hastily put down as cases of\ntransplantation, or have been turned by the folk themselves into\ntransplantation formul\u00e6. For instance, a Gipsy remedy for fever bids\nthe sufferer go before sunrise to a little tree, scratch his left\nlittle finger, and smear the blood on the tree, saying: \u201cGo away,\nfever; go away, pain; {150} go away into the tree, whence thou hast\ncome; thither go thou, fever!\u201d[150.1] No specific tree is indicated;\nand there can be little doubt that the original words of this ban have\nbeen forgotten, and meaningless rhymes substituted--so far at least as\nthe words \u201cGo away into the tree whence thou hast come,\u201d which rhyme\nin the original with the two previous lines. So also, in Dr. Colerus\u2019\ncollection of remedies from the Mark of Brandenburg, we find that, to\ncure the toothache, a splinter must be taken from a willow, and the\nteeth pricked with it until they bleed; the blood must be allowed to\ndrip upon the splinter, which must be then cunningly put back into the\ntree, covered with the bark and plastered with mud, that it may grow\ntogether again. This prescription is still current in various parts of\nGermany and among some of the non-German populations of Eastern\nPrussia. In Pomerania it appears with the addition that the\nperformance must be in silence, and the variation that the tree must\nbe one struck by lightning.[150.2] If it were simply intended to\ntransplant the toothache into the tree, there would be no need to be\ncareful about the healing of the wound. But here, as in the cases of\nchildren passed through split trees, it is of importance to the\nrecovery and after-life of the patient that the tree recover and be\nallowed to flourish. Moreover, a lightning-struck tree would, in\nheathen times, have been sacred; and the requirement of silence\nconfirms its sacred character. The object of the ceremony, therefore,\nis not a transplantation of the disease, but a healing union of the\ndiseased tooth {151} with the tree. In the province of Li\u00e8ge it is\nsufficient to touch the tooth with the splinter.[151.1] The rite there\nappears to be in decay, for the real intention to incorporate in the\ntree blood from the tooth and surrounding gums is manifest from a\nvariation current at least as early as the seventeenth century, when\nit is mentioned in England by John Aubrey. It consists in scarifying\nthe gum with an iron nail, and burying the nail in the tree.[151.2]\nAnd Sir Kenelm Digby gravely prescribes it, directing the nail to be\ndriven up to the head into a wooden beam, which of course is a\nmakeshift for a tree.[151.3] Kuhn, reporting the same practice from\nthe Mark, says expressly that the tooth must be bored with the nail\nuntil the blood comes, the nail must then be driven into the north\nside of an oak where the sun does not shine, and then so long as the\ntree stands the patient will have no more toothache.[151.4] About\nLi\u00e8ge the nail is, according to one prescription, to be drawn from a\ncoffin. According to another it must be a new nail and must be driven\ninto the first tree you come to.[151.5] At Pforzheim, when a tooth is\ndrawn, it is to be nailed into a young tree, and the bark drawn over\nit; if the tree be cut down the toothache will return.[151.6] At\nAgnethlen, in Transylvania, {152} the sufferer bores a hole in a tree,\nchews with the aching tooth a piece of bread, swallows half and spits\nthe rest into the tree, saying: \u201cTree, I give thee half of what I\nhave; take away all my pain, and convey it down into the\nearth!\u201d[152.1] The consumption of half the bread by the patient is\nconclusive against transplantation. And with this we may compare a\nrecipe against the rickets in use in Schleswig-Holstein. The sick\nchild is rubbed over with a handful of oats, and the oats are then\nsown in a secret place; as they grow the rickets disappear.[152.2]\n\nIn view of the cases I have cited it may be doubted whether the\nintention (at all events, the original intention) of many of the\nprescriptions of hair, saliva, food and other things belonging to the\npatient, to be given to the lower animals was transplantation, and not\nrather union with another and a healthy body. Thus, in Kerry and\nLeitrim a cure for the whooping-cough is to pour some milk into a\nsaucer, let a ferret drink some of it, and give the rest to the\nsufferer. In Antrim the child is passed thrice under a jackass, to\nwhich is afterwards given a bit of oaten bread, and the child is made\nto eat what the animal leaves.[152.3] Transplantation in both these\nexamples is out of the question, because the child does not feed until\nthe other creature has finished. So in the Panjab stammering is cured\nby hanging in a tree a cup, which is kept filled for forty days with\nwater for the birds. The last few drops they leave every day are drunk\nby the patient. And a remedy in the north of India for boils is to\nmove over the {153} part affected some treacle and parched wheat, and\nafterwards distribute these things among some Brahman boys.[153.1] The\nfood, it will be noted, does not actually touch the diseased part: the\nsymbol is reckoned sufficient. But the destination of the food for\npersons of the sacred caste renders it impossible that transfer of the\ndisease is intended. A ceremony in use among the Southern Slavs as a\ncure for a fretful child directs the drawing of water in a vessel of\ngreenwood. The mother then, with the child on her arm, dips firebrands\nthrice into the water, saying: \u201cThe Vila weds her son and invites my\nMarko to the wedding. I am sending not my Marko, but his weeping.\u201d The\nchild is made to drink as much as it can of the water thus brought\ninto contact with the drying, or perhaps the hallowing, power of the\nfire, the rest is poured over the dog or cat of the household, the\nvessel is thrown to the ground and left there all night.[153.2] The\nentire meaning of this curious ceremony is not very clear; but it can\nhardly be intended to transfer the constant weeping of the infant to\nthe dog, or the cat. In Buffalo Valley, Pennsylvania, certain diseases\nare cured by allowing a black cat to eat some of the soup given to the\npatient--a remedy probably brought from Germany.[153.3] Here again\ntransference is improbable, seeing that a black cat is a magical\nanimal: we should rather apply the reasoning in reference to Reginald\nScot\u2019s remedy for the flux. It is more doubtful whether the same can\nbe said of a Jewish leechcraft, quoted by Dr. Strack from Tholedoth\nAdam, which bids a woman suffering from undue menstruation {154} bake\nsome of her blood in bread and give it to a pig to devour.[154.1] But\nin Tuscany, when one spits blood, ants are to be caught, put into the\nblood and left there all night. Mr. Leland, in recording this,\nobserves that Marcellus quotes a conjuring verse where ants are said\nto have no blood.[154.2] If we may look upon the saying as embodying a\ngeneral belief, we may suppose that their bloodlessness would be held\nto react upon the sufferer.\n\nMarcellus mentions a number of prescriptions which cannot be cases of\ntransplantation, but rather intended to unite a diseased body with a\nsound one for the benefit of the former. Take his remedy for a\ngathering in the ear by injecting the warm urine of a boy under the\nage of puberty. Or where incontinence of urine is to be cured by\nmaking water in a dog\u2019s sleeping-place, saying the while: \u201cLet me not\nmake water in my own bed, like a dog.\u201d Or the recommendation to apply\nthe cut hairs of a boy under puberty to the suffering foot of a gouty\npatient. A prescription extolled as _et praesens et maximum_ for\nconsumptives, even when apparently beyond hope, consists in\nadministering the saliva or foam of a horse in warm water for three\ndays: the horse will die, and the sick man recover.[154.3] Even here,\nin spite of the horse\u2019s death, we have no warrant for supposing that\nthe disease is transferred to him. The operation upon him is clearly\nto be attributed to the magical principle so fully discussed in this\nand {155} the previous chapter. The process is the converse of\ntransplantation. Nothing that has touched the patient is brought back\nto the unfortunate horse. His death is caused by union through his own\nsaliva with a sick body which absorbs his qualities of health and\nstrength.\n\nAn old French remedy for a cough, and probably also for toothache, is\ntraceable back to Marcellus. It was to spit in a frog\u2019s mouth--a\nmethod of cure still in vogue in Shropshire and perhaps elsewhere in\nEngland.[155.1] No doubt it was a traditional remedy long before the\nEmperor\u2019s physician gravely recorded it, and added that the patient\nmust stand shod upon the bare earth under the bare heaven, on a\nTuesday or Thursday at waning moon, and repeat seven times: _Argidam,\nmargidam, sturgidam_. Moreover the patient is solemnly to ask the frog\nto take the toothache with her; \u201cand then shalt thou let her go alive;\nand this shalt thou do on a fortunate day and at a fortunate hour.\u201d O\nlearned physician! This does appear, at least as Marcellus understood\nit, a case of transplantation; and it is no part of my business to\ncombat every instance. I only desire to point out that Transplantation\nis a theory inadequate to account for many remedies which it has been\ndragged in to explain; and to express the doubt whether it be not\nafter all a comparatively recent development in folk-medicine.\n\nSaliva prescriptions, numerous as they are, need not detain us longer.\nNor will I pause upon those of the fouler excrements. They are made,\nas we might expect, to subserve the purposes of healing, as well as\nthose of witchcraft, {156} and in the same general manner. I shall,\ntherefore, only add a few references at the foot of the page for the\nuse of students.[156.1]\n\nFor various diseases the patient\u2019s bath-water and fomentations,\nwherein are often mingled simples of different sorts, are in Germany,\nHungary and Transylvania poured out upon a tree, into flowing water,\ninto the churchyard, or upon dead human bones.[156.2] The Magyars, as\na depilatory for children born with much hair on their bodies, put\nashes on the four corners of the bath-tub, and throw into the water\nthree potatoes, which they fling, after the bath, behind the oven. As\nthe potatoes dry up, the hair is expected to disappear.[156.3]\n\nNot only the bath-water and fomentations but also cloths and articles\nof clothing which have been in contact with {157} the patient, and\nespecially with the diseased member, are subject to treatment for the\npurpose of healing, of causing, or of preventing disease. At Rauen,\nnear F\u00fcrstenwald, in Northern Germany, the remedy for a violent\nheadache is to bind a cloth round the head at night, and take it on\nthe following morning to a wise man, who will charm not the head, but\nthe cloth.[157.1] Among the Transylvanian Gipsies a certain kind of\nsore is cured by covering it with a red rag and pegging the rag by\nnight in a hole in a tree. The words used on the occasion are: \u201cStay\nthou here, until the rag become a beast, the beast a tree, the tree a\nman, to strike thee dead!\u201d So far as they have a meaning they point to\ntransplantation, though not conclusively. Dr. von Wlislocki, who\nreports them, suggests they contain a reminiscence of a Gipsy\nCreation-myth. If so, they are probably archaic; but this is\ndoubtful.[157.2] An old physician relates of a patient who had a\nviolent pain in the arm that it was healed by a plaster of red coral\nbeaten up with oak-leaves, which was kept on the part until\nsuppuration and then in the morning put into an auger-hole in the root\nof an oak, looking towards the east, and the hole stopped with a peg\nof the same tree. The pain ceased, but returned more sharply than\nbefore when the peg was taken out.[157.3] In Middle Silesia plasters\nand bandages from wounds must only be thrown into flowing\nwater--certainly never into the fire, lest the hurt be made\nincurable.[157.4] The Masurs in East Prussia, after suffering from an\nattack of fever, and not until it is over, take off the patient\u2019s\nshirt and carry it, after sunset or before sunrise, if possible on a\n{158} Thursday, to a cross-road and suspend it on the\nsign-post.[158.1] It is a French prescription for hastening a slow\ndelivery to bind the woman\u2019s girdle about the church-bell and sound\nthe bell thrice.[158.2] In 1630 the wife of Francesco Noverta of\nPordenone was brought before the Inquisition in Italy for taking her\nhusband\u2019s shirt to a wise man to be \u201csigned,\u201d in order to cure him of\nsome disease. The man signed it with a crown, repeating sacred words\nand invoking the saints. He did more. He gave her an oil to anoint the\npatient\u2019s back and stomach, a piece of bread for him to eat, and\ncertain herbs to be put under his bolster, together with a powder. But\nwhen she got home, so she told the holy inquisitors, she threw all\nthese things on the fire, and kept only the shirt: she had more\nconfidence in the charm than the simples.[158.3] These cases, in which\nthere is no transplantation, may perhaps be allowed to interpret the\nambiguity of some of the following. The Saxons of the Seven Cities\ncure the swelling of the glands of the neck by stealing a piece of\nbacon over night and binding it round the throat with a rag, and the\nnext morning hanging the bandage on a tree, or throwing it in the\nfire. In the former case, the spell to be uttered, while removing the\nbandage, is: \u201cTree, thou hast many knots; take away my knots also.\u201d In\nthe latter, it is: \u201cThe knotman has seven sons; the knotwife has seven\ndaughters; they married, lived together and did not agree; they parted\nand disappeared like the bacon in the fire. So, in God\u2019s name, let the\nknots disappear in N. N.\u2019s neck, that he may enjoy pure the Holy\nSupper of the Body {159} and Blood of Our Lord. Amen.\u201d[159.1] Galician\nJews cure infantine convulsions by throwing articles of the child\u2019s\nclothing into a stream where it divides into two branches, and crying\nthrice: \u201cHere hast thou thine; give me mine.\u201d This is, of course, a\nprayer for the child\u2019s health. They are also careful not to hang\nswaddling clothes out of doors to dry, nor to drop them on the ground,\nelse the child whose they are will lose its rest.[159.2] The garb of\nItalian babies must likewise be tenderly treated in washing, else the\ninfants will be afflicted with various pains. Abruzzian babe-clothes\nmust not be washed in the water whence horses have drunk, lest the\nbabe\u2019s tender skin be heated. A Tuscan baby is cured of a certain\ndisorder by putting its clothes in boiling water with a nail, some\nlaurel and garden-flowers, like rose or jasmine, and afterwards\nrinsing them in flowing water.[159.3] Against a menstruation too\ncopious a Galician Jewess washes her own shift together with her\nhusband\u2019s night-dress.[159.4] The intention here seems to be not to\nattempt the absurdity of transferring the menstruation to the husband,\nbut by uniting the patient to a healthy man through the contact of\ntheir clothing, to obtain for her that quality of his whereof she\nstands especially in need. Conversely, one of the remedies of Italian\nwomen for suppressed menstruation is to send the sufferer\u2019s shift to\nthe wash with the linen of a woman who has just been delivered; and\nthey firmly believe that a washerwoman may cause them painful\nmenstruation by beating their linen too hard, or by using burning\ncoals with the ashes in {160} making the lye.[160.1] Nor must we\nforget here the Bosnian rite for procuring conception, referred to in\na previous chapter. The barren woman\u2019s wedding-garment is not worn by\nthe quick woman wound about her body for the purpose of transferring\nthe barrenness to herself. On the contrary, she wears it that her\nprolific influence may thus be communicated to her friend; and she\ncontinues to wear it until that effect is produced.\n\nOther things that have been brought into contact with the body may\nalso be efficaciously treated. In Donegal the piece of turf whereon a\nsick cow first treads on getting up is cut out and hung against the\nwall; and the cow is expected to recover.[160.2] Formerly in France a\nlimping cow was healed by cutting out the turf whereon the lame foot\nhad trodden and putting it to dry on a hedge. To cure quartan fever a\ncertain herb was plucked secretly and in silence, and thrown to the\nwinds.[160.3] In the seventeenth century a prescription for epilepsy\nwas three nails made on Midsummer Eve driven over their heads into the\nplace where the patient had fallen, his name being uttered the\nwhile.[160.4] For spasms at the heart it is recommended in\nTransylvania to lie on the back on the turf. The length and breadth of\nthe patient\u2019s body is then marked, and the turf to the thickness of a\nfinger cut out, if possible in one piece, and thrown into a brook with\nthe words: \u201cSpring-wife, spring-wife, take the water from my heart; I\ngive thee what lay under my heart.\u201d[160.5] In Thuringia, to heal sores\n{161} on the body three crosses are made with a bit of comfrey on the\nsores before sunrise, and the comfrey is then buried in a place where\nit will quickly rot, and whither the patient is not likely soon to\ncome.[161.1] A like remedy is given in the _Grihya-sutra_ of\n\u00c2pastamba. If a wife be affected with consumption, or be otherwise\nsick, one who has to observe chastity is to rub her limbs with young\nlotus-leaves, still unrolled, and with lotus-roots and certain\nformul\u00e6; the leaves and roots are afterwards thrown away towards the\nwest.[161.2] For whooping-cough, a mother in Norfolk looks for a dark\nspider in the house, and having found it holds it over the child\u2019s\nhead, repeating thrice:\n\n \u201cSpider, as you waste away,\n Whooping-cough no longer stay.\u201d\n\nShe then hangs the spider in a bag over the mantelpiece--formerly no\ndoubt it was hung in the chimney--and when it dries up the cough will\nbe gone.[161.3] A feverish patient, among the Jews of Galicia, wraps a\nhair taken from his body about a louse, and throws the creature away.\nWhile, against epilepsy, a black hen is rent in pieces over the sick\nman; or a cock is slaughtered and buried, its head being first cut off\non the threshold of a barn: with the decay of its flesh the epileptic\nrecovers health.[161.4] The old French superstitions recorded by\nThiers prescribe for various diseases a branch of a plum-tree hung to\ndry in the chimney, a cabbage stolen from a neighbour\u2019s garden and\nhung up to dry, nine grains of barley put into a bottle of {162} clear\nwater, a hard-cooked egg put into an anthill, certain drugs wrapped in\na piece of new cloth and thrown into the fire. They do not in every\ncase mention that these articles must be first applied to the patient;\nbut it is tolerably clear that this is meant.[162.1] And it must also\nbe inferred that the cock in the Galician prescription was formerly\nbrought into similar contact, though perhaps in this case, as in many\nothers throughout Europe, the touching has fallen into disuse. The\nblack hen, it is obvious, could not be torn in pieces without its\nblood falling on the patient and so bringing it into union with the\ndisease. Remedies of the kind under consideration are naturally most\nin vogue for external diseases, such as warts, boils and sties. But\nenough: examples of their application to all kinds of disease are\nendless.\n\nI have mentioned some cases where corpses have played remedial parts.\nA few more illustrations may be added, more clearly to bring out the\nreal meaning of the prescriptions, which are divisible into two\nclasses--the one wherein the patient himself is brought into contact\nwith the body, or with some article that has belonged to it, or been\nin contact with it; the other wherein articles belonging to the\npatient, or which have been part of, or in contact with, his body are\ndeposited in the coffin, or the grave, and thus brought into permanent\nconnection with the dead. The intention of both appears to be the\nsame, namely, to bring the disease into union with the corpse, in\norder that, as the latter suffers decay and dissolution, it also may\ndecay and perish.\n\nIn enumerating a few instances of the former class, let me first refer\nto the fact that touching or stroking with {163} the hand of a corpse\nis a remedy known in every part of Europe for superficial growths like\nwens, tetters, and swollen glands. In September 1892, a fashionably\ndressed young woman was one day seen hovering about a physician\u2019s\nresidence in the north of Berlin. When he went out she met him and\ntimidly prayed him to take her, when he had an opportunity, to a dead\nbody. He thought she must be suffering from overstrain or mental\ndisorder, and brusquely refused her. In nowise daunted, however, she\nbegged him earnestly to grant her request, explaining that her object\nwas to remove a deformity. As she said this, she laid bare a delicate\nwhite hand blemished by a bony outgrowth, known among surgeons as\n_exostosis_. The medical man became interested; and it was not long\nbefore he stood with her in the presence of a corpse. The lady grasped\nthe cold right hand and with it repeatedly and silently stroked the\nugly excrescence. Then, without speaking, she left the room in all\nhaste; nor was the physician able to learn who she was, or what had\nled her to seek this means of relief.[163.1] In the good old days,\nwhen what was called Justice was chiefly exhibited in hanging men with\nshort shrift on every convenient pretext and at every convenient\nplace, this remedy was much easier to obtain than it is to-day. In\nEurope it was universal; and perhaps it was partly the facility for\ntouching an executed criminal that led to a preference in popular\npharmacop\u0153ia for such corpses. Partly also it may have arisen from\nanother cause. The victims of violence are often regarded as endowed\nafter {164} death with extraordinary virtue. When that violence took\nthe form of persecution for adherence to the Church, the Church\nherself encouraged and systematised the superstition to her own\nprofit. Popular sympathy with unmerited suffering extended the\nChurch\u2019s doctrine to other murders, judicial murders among them. And\noften the Church did not hesitate to sanction the popular\ncanonisation, and appropriate the material gains that followed. But\nbeyond all that the Church could sanction, there remained a margin\nconstantly supplied by the bloodthirsty tribunals, as well as by\nprivate enterprise. The former may have been more regular in their\naction; but one thing is certain. Their victims were more uniformly\nderived from the classes which were chiefly concerned in forming and\npreserving tradition. The feeling of oppression would be likely to\ngeneralise all executions into martyrdoms, entailing miraculous powers\nanalogous to those recognised by the Church. This would be enough to\nintensify the operation of any potency believed to be the ordinary\nproperty of a corpse, and so to favour the resort to the bodies of\ncriminals.[164.1]\n\nBe this as it may, remedies derived from the dead were, and still are,\npopular. The Saxons of the Seven Cities cure wens and scrofula by\ndrawing a silken thread through a corpse\u2019s hand and then binding it\nround the patient\u2019s neck. They hold that a silken band out of a grave\nis a protection against epilepsy. Earth from a sucking infant\u2019s grave\nis {165} put upon the mother\u2019s breast to dry up her milk. Gout is\nhealed by rubbing a rag from a dead man\u2019s clothes on the suffering\nparts and hanging it all night upon a tree. Against cramp, a string\nwherewith a corpse has been measured is worn on the body next to the\nskin. A drunkard\u2019s craving for drink is stayed by giving him some of\nwhat he best loves, poured over a silver coin which has been placed in\na corpse\u2019s mouth. Diseases of the eyes are cured by going early on a\nfine Sunday morning in spring to a pious man\u2019s grave, and washing the\neyes in the dew that lies upon it. Herbs grown in the churchyard, and\ngathered on Good Friday when the bells are sounding for service, are\ngood against every kind of sickness.[165.1] Among the Poles and Masurs\nit is believed that to smell a flower growing in the churchyard causes\npermanent loss of the sense of smell.[165.2] The Negro population of\nBarbados resorts to the touch of a dead hand for all swellings and\nchronic pains, and believes that to wash the eyes in rum which has\nbeen used to wash a corpse is to be safe from disease of the eyes for\nthe future.[165.3] In the Abruzzi the hand of a dead priest has\npotency against scrofulous tumours, and a certain remedy for headache\nis to rub the forehead and temples with the tears of a dying\nman.[165.4] A prescription in Middle Silesia, against epilepsy and\nagainst toothache is a ring smithied from a coffin-nail found in a\ngrave.[165.5] In the Netherlands {166} an aching tooth is rubbed with\na bone from the churchyard; or, in the province of Namur, the sufferer\ngoes to bite a cross erected on the wayside where a violent death has\noccurred.[166.1] The bone, among the Masurs and generally in Prussia,\nis replaced by the index-finger of a corpse.[166.2] In old French\nbelief it should be a tooth, if possible the tooth of a man who has\ncome to a violent end, as by hanging; and the best time for its\napplication is on Holy Saturday when the bells are ringing. Other\nFrench prescriptions are: for fever, to hang round the neck a human\nbone taken from the graveyard, or the hem torn (not cut) from a\nwinding-sheet; for colic or _lapsus ani_, to cut the hem from a\nwinding-sheet, pass it under the loins and wear it as a girdle; for\nhydrophobia, pills made of the head of a man who has been\nhanged.[166.3] In Silesia water left on tombstones will send freckles\naway. At Gernsbach, in the neighbourhood of Spire, to smear a goitre\nwith the wick of a lamp that has burnt in a dying man\u2019s room will heal\nit.[166.4] To cure a Bosnian drunkard, extinguish in brandy one of the\ncandles burning at the head of a corpse before the funeral, and give\nhim the brandy to drink. Even a bit of the wick when the candle is put\nout in the ordinary course, {167} given in brandy, will be sufficient;\nor indeed brandy bought with a coin which has been used to close the\neyes of the dead.[167.1] The last is doubtless a degenerate form of a\nsuperstition akin to that of the Transylvanian Saxons adduced just\nnow. In the Lettish prescription the corpse\u2019s mouth is to be washed\nout, and the water given to the tippler. After drinking it, we are\ntold, he can never drink again, which is quite likely.[167.2] The\nreasoning which has given rise to all these beliefs perhaps applies\nalso to the tradition in Wales, Ireland and the Isle of Man that it is\nunlucky to disturb old burial-places and old churches, and utilise\ntheir materials. Professor Rhys relates an example in which a farmer\nin the Ronnag, a small valley near South Barrule, in the Isle of Man,\ncarted earth from an old burial-ground and used it to manure his\nfields. His cattle died, and every one attributed it to this cause.\nThe farmer himself was convinced at last, and desisted from the\ndesecration.[167.3] A similar story is told of a cattle-dealer in the\nparish of Templepatrick, near Belfast, who attempted to use the soil\nof an ancient fort as a top-dressing for his land.[167.4] We may\ncompare with these instances a curious Manx curse: \u201cMay a stone of the\nchurch be found in the head of thy dwelling!\u201d[167.5] It would seem as\nif that which had been part of, or had become by contact united with,\nthe dead, or had been part of the subject of a taboo, were still,\nnotwithstanding severance, in indissoluble connection with the\nremainder, and thus capable of communicating its evil effects or of\nbringing into similar connection any other {168} object. Too much\nstress, however, cannot be laid on this conjecture at present. The\nquestion needs further investigation.\n\nThe other class of prescriptions consists of such as the following. An\nEnglish cure for boils mentioned by Mr. Thiselton Dyer was to poultice\nfor three days and nights, and then to place the poultices, cloths and\nall, in the coffin of a body about to be buried.[168.1] In Germany,\nwhen a sucking babe dies, the mother puts a bottle of her milk in the\ncoffin, and then the breast dries up without making her ill.[168.2] To\nthe same end a South Slavonic mother sticks in the infant\u2019s shift over\nthe breast two pins, probably to be taken from her own. The coffin-lid\nmust not be nailed at the head and foot, else the mother will bear no\nmore, or if she bear, it will be a difficult labour.[168.3] In\nSilesia, to destroy lice, bugs and moths, it is recommended to catch a\nfew specimens, bottle them up in a quill and secretly by a waning moon\nlay the quill in the coffin of a spotless maiden.[168.4] The\npopulation of North Carolina is mainly of German descent. There, by\nthe same process of logic, it is forbidden in making garments for the\ndead to bite the thread, lest the teeth rot.[168.5] The Transylvanian\nSaxons spit into an open grave to heal sore throat.[168.6] In East\nPrussia, as in West Sussex, a child is cured of a certain nightly\noffence by being taken to an open grave to repeat it.[168.7] In\nDonegal, warts are got rid of by throwing some clay from under {169}\nyour right foot in the path by which a funeral is going, and by\nsaying: \u201cCorpse of clay, carry my warts away.\u201d This must be done three\ntimes, and as the corpse decays in the grave the warts will\nvanish.[169.1] As might be expected, to bring warts into contact with\na corpse is a specially efficacious means of getting rid of them. In\nthe Obererzgebirge warts or any other superficial ailments are rubbed\nwith a piece of linen, which is then laid in the coffin with a\ncorpse.[169.2] To recover from the ague in the Netherlands the\nsufferer\u2019s garter used to be tied round a gallows.[169.3] When a death\noccurs in Poland, if anything has been stolen from the family, a\nsimilar object, or a piece of the same stuff, is laid in the coffin;\nand as it decays the thief withers away and dies. It is even enough,\nin case of robbery, to lay a portion of the stolen goods in the\nchurchyard.[169.4] We considered in the last chapter the\nidentification of the thief with the property stolen, and no more need\nbe added on the subject.\n\nThe principle which underlies all these practices dictated the\nsympathetic treatment of wounds by washing and keeping clean and\nbright the instrument inflicting them--a treatment taught by\nParacelsus, believed in by Bacon and proclaimed as a valuable\ndiscovery by Sir Kenelm Digby, who learned it in France. Though long\nsince discredited by science, it is still in use among the peasantry\nof England, and can be traced backwards into savagery. A few instances\nwill suffice to exhibit the vast area over which it {170} is found,\nand the different modes of its application. In Sussex a few years ago\nMrs. Latham saw it actually in use. A man had been accidentally\nwounded by a sword-stick, and the whole time he was confined to his\nbed the sword-stick was kept hung at his bed\u2019s head, and was polished\nat stated intervals day and night, and anxiously examined lest a spot\nof rust be found thereon; for that would have been a token that the\nwounded man would die.[170.1] In Suffolk, if a horse be lamed by\ntreading on a nail, the nail must be found, cleaned and kept bright\nand well greased; and in dressing a human wound the old plaster must\nbe buried, not burnt, else the wound will not heal.[170.2] Similar\ntreatment of a wound by a tool or weapon was practised within the\nmemory of living men by the descendants of the Dutch settlers in the\nHudson River.[170.3] About Schaffhausen and Solothurn it is held that\nif one be pricked with a needle, the wound will heal the sooner if the\nneedle be at once plunged into wax.[170.4] In the Tirol, in order to\nprevent a wound from giving trouble, the weapon that has caused it is\nimmediately stuck into ash-wood.[170.5] About Siena a nail which has\ninflicted any hurt is gently warmed over the fire with a clove of\ngarlic in oil prepared from herbs gathered on Saint John\u2019s day, and it\nis then used to sprinkle the oil about.[170.6] In Esthonia, if you cut\nyour finger, you are advised to bite the blade of the knife, and the\nwound will then cease to bleed.[170.7] Among the Galician Jews, if a\nchild fall on the floor, the pain will pass away, provided {171} water\nbe poured on the floor, at the spot where the child came in contact\nwith it.[171.1] These superstitions are not a whit more civilised than\nthose of the races we call savage. Dr. Boas mentions a tribe of North\nAmerican Indians who are very careful to keep the arrow that has\nwounded a friend concealed, and as far from the fire as possible; for\nhe would be very ill if, while still covered with blood, it were put\ninto the fire.[171.2] Melanesians keep the arrow, when extracted, in a\ndamp place, or in cool leaves; then the inflammation will be little\nand soon subside. A story is told by Dr. Codrington of a man who aimed\nat another with a ghost-shooter, that is to say, a magically prepared\narrow which does not actually reach the foe, but is only believed to\ndo so by being directed towards him. In this case the man\u2019s next of\nkin, his sister\u2019s child, happened to come between him and the object\nof his aim, and he felt sure he had hit it full. To prevent\ninflammation of the imaginary wound he put the contents of his\nghost-shooter into water, and the child took no hurt. If a Melanesian\nhave really shot another, and can get back the arrow, he puts it into\nthe fire. To heat the wound he will keep the bow near the fire; and\nthe bowstring will be kept taut and occasionally pulled, to bring on\ntension of the nerves and tetanus in the wounded man. Or a bundle of\ncertain leaves, tied on the bow will produce a fatal result. Nor is\nthis all. The assailant and his friends will drink hot and burning\njuices, and chew irritating leaves; they will burn pungent and bitter\nherbs to produce an irritating smoke. The wound by his arrow has set\nup such union between the shooter and his victim that these\nproceedings {172} are expected to react upon the latter.[172.1] The\nZulus are said to have the like belief. They think that if the corpse\nof a slain enemy swell up, they themselves will suffer pain in the\nintestines. If they have time, therefore, they tear out the entrails\nof their fallen foes; if not, they pierce the navel with an assegai,\nas was done to the body of young Bonaparte, the Imperialist\nPretender.[172.2]\n\n\u201cA hair of the dog that bit you\u201d is a remedy which has passed into a\nproverb. In dealing with witchcraft we had occasion to note some\ninstances of its application, as when the dust of a witch\u2019s footprint\nis rubbed on the bespelled animal. The Abruzzians hold the bite of a\ncat to be venomous; and their prescription for it is a bit of the same\ncat\u2019s fur applied with pounded garlic. So, for a serpent-bite a\nportion of the skin of the creature is put on the wound; but, as\nSignor Finamore remarks, the question is to get it.[172.3] In Sicily\nthe sting of one of the small scorpions found in damp places in the\nisland is healed by scorpion-oil prepared from the same scorpion. The\nmode of preparing the oil is to decapitate the animal and plunge it\ninto a vessel of oil, which is then closed tightly.[172.4] In\nDevonshire a person who is bitten by a viper is advised at once to\nkill the creature and rub the wound with its fat; and the flesh of a\nrattlesnake is accounted the best cure for its own bite in the\nNorthern States of America.[172.5] In Belgium a dog\u2019s bite is to be\nhealed by inducing a bitch to {173} lick the sore.[173.1] The reason\nfor the treatment is obscure in some of these cases; but we shall\nprobably be right in referring its origin to the desire to set up\nunion between the victim and the animal inflicting the wound, by means\nof a detached portion of the latter\u2019s substance. This view is\nstrengthened by the treatment directed, in the neighbourhood of\nMasulipatam, for a scorpion which has stung a man. The brute is to be\ncaught by slipping a noose over its tail, and tied to something to\nprevent its wandering. For the more it wanders, the more the poison\nwill wander in the man\u2019s body; while to kill it may have the effect of\nkilling its victim. Here the union by means of the injected poison is\nalready complete, and the scorpion is dealt with accordingly.[173.2]\n\nFolk-leechcraft thus provides us with further illustration of the\ntheory lying at the foundation of the story-incident of the\nLife-token. A severed portion of the body, or any of its issues, or\nanything once in contact with it, though now detached, is none the\nless believed to continue in real, if unapparent, connection with it.\nWhatever, therefore, is undergone by the one, is undergone also by the\nother. For the purposes of healing, as of injury, to affect the one is\nto affect the other. It is curious that a large number of the remedies\nprescribed are of a character that, judging from the examples of\nwitchcraft in the last chapter, one would suppose calculated to\ninflict injury rather than to heal. To hang in the chimney things\nwhich have become united with the patient\u2019s body, or to put them into\na coffin, if done with malicious intent, would certainly result in\nevil to the victim. We must, however, be at all times prepared to\n{174} find tradition inconsistent. In the cases referred to, the\ndisease is thought of, rather than the patient, as identified with the\nobject operated on; and the intention is to destroy the disease by\ncausing it to waste away. Probably the prescription was at first\napplied only to excrescences and other diseased growths, like warts,\ntumours and wens. These alone were touched by the dead hand, or by the\ncloth, or the spider, which was to be enclosed in the grave, or hung\nin the chimney. The remedy having been tried for them, would be\nextended to other ailments, without adverting to the reason of its\nprimitive limitation. So far as regards objects committed to the\nkeeping of the dead, a comparison of love-charms comprising the same\nprocess will have suggested an alternative explanation, namely, that\nthey are brought thus into permanent contact with the corpse for the\npurpose of putting them under the influence of the departed spirit.\nThis is a less materialistic explanation, and one that will have\nweight with students who can estimate the importance, in savage life,\nof the worship of the dead. It is possible that there may be an\nelement of truth in it, as well as in the explanation which regards\nthe objects as merely intended to be affected by the physical decay\nand corruption of the corpse. But, either way, is clearly necessary\nthe postulate that the disease in the patient\u2019s body is capable of\nbeing affected by the influence, whatever it may be, on the objects in\ncontact with the dead,--that in them, and by means of them, the\npatient himself is actually in contact also.\n\n\n\n\n CHAPTER XI.\n SACRED WELLS AND TREES.\n\n{175}\n\nIn the light of the results thus obtained by an examination of\ncertain of the methods of witchcraft and folk-medicine, we next\napproach a group of rites known in one form or other from shore to\nshore of the Old World, and the principle of which has regulated\nreligious observances alike in North and South America. These rites\nare very numerous in the British islands; and it will be convenient to\nstart from some of the most modern forms found in Great Britain.\nProfessor Rhys, in a paper read a year or two ago before a joint\nmeeting of the Cymmrodorion and Folklore Societies, quotes a\ncorrespondent as saying of Ffynnon Cae Moch, about half-way between\nCoychurch and Bridgend, in Glamorganshire: \u201cPeople suffering from\nrheumatism go there. They bathe the part affected with water, and\nafterwards tie a piece of rag to the tree which overhangs the well.\nThe rag is not put in the water at all, but is only put on the tree\nfor luck. It is a stunted but very old tree, and is simply _covered_\nwith rags.\u201d In another case, that of Ffynnon Eilian (Elian\u2019s Well),\nnear Abergele in Denbighshire, of which Professor Rhys was informed by\nMrs. Evans, the late wife of Canon Silvan Evans, some bushes near the\nwell had once been covered with bits of {176} rags left by those who\nfrequented it. The rags used to be tied to the bushes by means of\nwool--not woollen yarn, but wool in its natural state. Corks with pins\nstuck in them were floating in the well when Mrs. Evans visited it,\nthough the rags had apparently disappeared from the bushes. The well\nin question, it is noted, had once been in great repute as \u201ca well to\nwhich people resorted for the kindly purpose of bewitching those whom\nthey hated.\u201d The Ffynnon Cefn Lleithfan, or Well of the Lleithfan\nRidge, on the eastern slope of Mynydd y Rhiw, in the parish of\nBryncroes, in the west of Carnarvonshire, is a resort for the cure of\nwarts. The sacred character of the well may be inferred from the\nsilence in which it is necessary to go and come, and from the\nprohibition to turn or look back. The wart is to be bathed at the well\nwith a rag or clout, which has grease on it. The clout must then be\ncarefully concealed beneath the stone at the mouth of the well. The\nProfessor, repeating this account of the well, given him by a Welsh\ncollector of folk-lore, says: \u201cThis brings to my mind the fact that I\nhave, more than once, years ago, noticed rags underneath stones in the\nwater flowing from wells in Wales, and sometimes thrust into holes in\nthe walls of wells, but I had no notion how they came there.\u201d The Rev.\nElias Owen, writing on the Holy Wells of North Wales, relates that the\npatients who came to the Ffynnon Awen, or Muses\u2019 Well, in the upper\npart of Llanrhaiadr, near Denbigh, buried under a stone close to or in\nthe well the pieces of wool they had used in washing their\nwounds.[176.1]\n\nProfessor Rhys, in the paper just cited, mentions several {177} wells\nwherein it was usual to drop pins; but the most detailed account was\nafterwards furnished by Mr. T. E. Morris, from a correspondent who\nsupplied him with the following information relating to Ffynnon Faglan\n(St Baglan\u2019s Well) in the parish of Llanfaglan, Carnarvonshire: \u201cThe\nold people who would be likely to know anything about Ffynnon Faglan\nhave all died. The two oldest inhabitants, who have always lived in\nthis parish (Llanfaglan), remember the well being used for healing\npurposes. One told me his mother used to take him to it when he was a\nchild, for sore eyes, bathe them with the water, and then drop in a\npin. The other man, when he was young, bathed in it for rheumatism,\nand until quite lately people used to fetch away the water for\nmedicinal purposes. The latter, who lives near the well at\nTan-y-graig, said that he remembered it being cleared out about fifty\nyears ago, when two basins-full of pins were taken out, but no coin of\nany kind. The pins were all bent, and I conclude the intention was to\nexorcise the evil spirit supposed to afflict the person who dropped\nthem in, or, as the Welsh say, _dadwitsio_. No doubt some ominous\nwords were also used. The well is at present nearly dry, the field\nwhere it lies having been drained some years ago, and the water in\nconsequence withdrawn from it. It was much used for the cure of warts.\nThe wart was washed, then pricked with a pin, which, after being bent,\nwas thrown into the well.\u201d[177.1]\n\nIn England the custom is well known of throwing pins into the water or\nhanging rags torn from the devotee\u2019s {178} clothing upon the\nneighbouring bushes and trees.[178.1] But without pausing on English\nexamples we pass at once to Ireland. There sacred wells and other\nplaces of pilgrimage are numerous and interesting. Mr. W. C. Borlase,\nquoting from the manuscripts of the late Mr. Windele of Cork, mentions\nthe cromlech of Maul na holtora, in Kerry, as reputed to contain a\nwell to which a legend of a sacred fish attached. It was a place of\npilgrimage every Saturday. \u201cThe brambles are tied with rags, and there\nis a deposit of pins as offerings.\u201d The ritual prescribed at this and\nsimilar places of pilgrimage is the performance of a circuit from\npoint to point, right-hand-wise, or in the direction of the sun, the\nrecital of a certain number of paternosters and aves, just as at the\nstations of the Cross in a Roman Catholic church, and finally the\ndeposit of the offering of a rag or pins. A well at Finmagh, in\nRoscommon, in which a Druid was said to be buried, was regarded as a\ndeity. Here, however, the offerings, thrust through a hole or cleft in\nthe roof, were of gold and silver.[178.2] This is a rare case. Quite\nrecently Professor Haddon and Dr. Browne found, in the Aran Islands,\nGalway, rags attached to sprays of the bramble or ivy at most of the\nholy wells. Buttons, fish-hooks, iron nails, shells, pieces of\ncrockery and other things are deposited in the holy well at\nTempulan-Cheathruir-aluinn, or the Church of the Four Comely\nOnes.[178.3] Turish Lyn, a pool in the stream a little below Kilgort\nBridge, in County Derry, is still resorted to for the cure of various\ndiseases. Among the offerings left on a {179} bush beside the stream\nare enumerated a piece of cloth, a lock of hair and three stones\npicked up from the pool.[179.1] A number of other instances are cited\nby Mr. Gomme from various authorities.[179.2] What seems an analogous\ncustom is declared by Sir Ralph Payne-Gallwey to be practised at the\nLarge Skellig, off the coast of Kerry. This island contains the ruin\nof an ancient monastery, and is accounted a holy place. When workmen\nfrom the mainland have been employed on the buildings on the Skellig\nand are bidding farewell to the island, \u201cthey invariably cast some\nwell-worn article of clothing, oftener than not a pair of shoes, at a\nsolitary rock, known as the Blue Man, which stands abruptly out of the\nocean.\u201d[179.3]\n\nIn the Isle of Man there is a well called Chibber Unjin, or Ash-tree\nWell, which I mention for the sake of calling attention to an\ninteresting detail of the rite. A patient visiting the well had to\ntake a mouthful of water, retaining it in his mouth until he had made\nthe circuit of the well, and then empty it upon a rag of his own\nclothing, which he afterwards tied on the hawthorn growing\nthere.[179.4]\n\nI select a few examples out of a large number from Scotland. Saint\nWallach\u2019s Well and Bath in the parish of Glass, Aberdeenshire, are\nfamous for their healing qualities. {180} The former is now dry, save\nin rainy weather; but it was frequented by persons with sore eyes,\n\u201cand every one who went to it left a pin in a hole which had been cut\neither by nature or by art in a stone beside the well.\u201d The bath is a\ncavity in the rock, supplied by a spring which flows into it and\noverflows into the river Deveron. Children who did not thrive were\nbrought and dipped in it, \u201ca rag, an old shirt, or a bib from the\nchild\u2019s body being hung on a tree beside the bath, or thrown into\nit.\u201d[180.1] \u201cThere is a big rugged rock,\u201d says the Rev. Walter Gregor,\n\u201con the top of Ben Newe in Strathdon, Aberdeenshire. On the north side\nof this rock, under a projection, there is a small circular-shaped\nhollow which always contains water. Every one that goes to the top of\nthe hill must put some small object into it, and then take a draught\nof water off it. Unless this is done the traveller will not reach in\nlife the foot of the hill. I climbed the hill in June of 1890, and saw\nin the well several pins, a small bone, a pill-box, a piece of a\nflower, and a few other objects.\u201d[180.2] Saint John\u2019s Well, at\nBalmano, in the parish of Marykirk, Kincardineshire, was reputed to\nheal sore eyes and rickety children. The \u201coblations\u201d left here were\ngenerally pins, needles and rags taken from the pilgrim\u2019s clothes. In\nthe island of St. Kilda is a consecrated well called Tobir-minbuadh,\nor Well of diverse Virtues. The votaries laid their offerings on an\n\u201caltar\u201d (probably a rock, or perhaps a rude stone monument) that stood\nnear; and Macaulay in his _History of St. Kilda_ sarcastically\nremarks: \u201cThe devotees were abundantly frugal.\u2026 Shells and pebbles,\nrags of linen or stuffs worn out, pins, needles or rusty nails were\ngenerally all the tribute that was paid; and sometimes, though {181}\nrarely enough, copper coins of the smallest value.\u201d Of Loch-siant Well\nin the island of Skye we read that the sick people who made a\npilgrimage to it, after drinking \u201cmove thrice round the well,\nproceeding sun-ways,\u201d and it was \u201ca never-failing custom to leave some\nsmall offering on the stone which covers the well. There is a small\ncoppice near it, of which none of the natives dare venture to cut the\nleast branch, for fear of some signal judgment to follow upon\nit.\u201d[181.1] And Mr. David MacRitchie, recording similar offerings at\nGrew\u2019s Well, Stormont, Perthshire, made on the first Sunday of May\n(Old Style), and speaking from the information of an old woman on the\nspot, says: \u201cNo good whatever was expected to result from the bathing\nif no offering was left.\u201d[181.2] It is rarely that an offering of\nvalue is recorded at these wells. A spring is, however, mentioned by\nMr. Gregor, called Tobar-fuarmor, in Aberdeenshire, where no cure was\neffected unless gold was presented.[181.3] The well and tree on the\nisland of Maelrubha in Loch Maree are dedicated to Saint Maree, or\nMourie. We need not concern ourselves whether this holy man ever\nexisted in the flesh. It is clear that he succeeded to the divinity of\nan ancient heathen god, and wielded all, and perhaps more than all,\nhis predecessor\u2019s powers. Whether the medi\u00e6val church ever struggled\nagainst the deeply-rooted cult we do not know. Since the Reformation\nthe Dingwall presbytery has in vain striven to destroy it, though at\nlast it seems to be dying before the blasts of modern disbelief. {182}\nMiss Godden, who visited the shrine in the summer of 1893, describes\nthe tree--an oak--\u201cas a slight white trunk--bare, branchless,\nleafless, with spreading foot, and jagged and broken top. The cracks\nand clefts in the stem are studded with coins, nails, screws, and\nrusty iron fragments. No sign of leaf or shoot remains to give the\ngaunt shaft any touch of common vegetation. It stands alone and\ninviolate--a Sacred Tree. In the damp ground at the tree\u2019s foot is a\nsmall dark hole, the sides of which are roughly formed by stones\noverhung with moss and grass. A cover of unwrought stone lies beside\nit, and it is filled up with dead leaves. This is the healing well of\npower unspeakable in cases of lunacy.\u2026 The tree,\u201d she adds, \u201cis now a\nWishing Tree, and the driving in of a bit of metal is the only\nnecessary act.\u201d The well, in fact, long so famous, is now disused, and\nthe ritual of the shrine is in the last stage of decay. Formerly, when\nan afflicted person was brought thither for the cure of insanity, a\nportion of his clothing was attached to a nail, which was driven on\nhis behalf into the tree. Sir Arthur Mitchell in the year 1860 found\ntwo bone buttons and two buckles nailed to the tree, and a faded\nribbon fluttering from another nail. The tree, now dead as the\nsuperstition which hallowed it, was then living. Countless pennies and\nhalfpennies had been driven edgewise into it, and the bark was closing\nover many of them, while it was believed to have covered many\nothers.[182.1]\n\nWe turn to the continent of Europe. Close parallels to the practices\nat the shrine at Maelrubha are found in Germany and Belgium. Such is\nthe ceremony prescribed for hernia in Mecklenburgh. A cross is made\nover the affected part {183} with a nail on a Friday; and the nail is\nthen driven, in unbroken silence, into a young beech or oak. The\noperation is repeated on the two Fridays following. A variant\nprescription directs the part to be touched with a coffin-nail, which\nis then to be driven over its head into the tree by the sufferer,\nbarefoot and silent. As the nail is overgrown by the bark, the hernia\nwill be healed.[183.1] In this case the rite does not seem to be\nattached to any specially hallowed tree. I cited some similar\ninstances in the last chapter, and others will be mentioned presently.\nWe must first consider, however, some cases where the sacred character\nof the object, whether well or tree, is unquestionable.\n\nIn Belgium, halfway between Braine l\u2019Alleud and the wood of Le Foriet,\ntwo hollow, and therefore doubtless very ancient, roads cross one\nanother. Two aged pine-trees are planted at the top of the bank at one\nof the corners; and formerly there stood between them a cross, which\nhas disappeared for some thirty years. It was a very ancient custom to\nbury in the pines, and even in the cross, pins or nails, in order to\nobtain the cure of persons attacked by fevers of various kinds. The\npins and nails thus employed must have been previously in contact with\nthe patient or his clothes. If any one took out one of these pins or\nnails from the pines or the cross, and carried it home, it was\nbelieved that the disease would certainly have been communicated to\nsome member of his family. The custom is said to have fallen out of\nuse. Yet M. Schepers, who visited the place in September 1891, and to\nwhose article on the subject in _Wallonia_, a periodical published at\nLi\u00e8ge, I am indebted for these particulars, found not {184} only\nrusty nails in the pines, but also pins quite recently planted. He was\ntold that it was equally customary to roll round the pines, or the\narms of the cross, some band of cloth or other stuff which had touched\nthe sufferer. As soon as the nail or pin had been driven in, or the\nribbon fastened, the operator used to run away as hard as he could.\nThe spot was called _\u00c0 l\u2019crwe Saint Z\u00e8_, St. Etto\u2019s Cross, or _Aux\ndeux Sapins_, The two Pine-trees. Saint Etto, it seems, was an Irish\nmissionary to these parts in the seventh century.[184.1] Nor is this\nby any means the only instance in Belgium. Two old lime-trees on\neither side of a Calvary, near the convent of Soleilmont at Gilly, in\nHainaut, are covered with nails; and a similar tree is found behind a\nchapel between Trazegnies and Chapelle-lez-Herlaimont in the same\nprovince. At Chastr\u00e9s, near Walcourt, a chapel of Our Lady is shown\nwith pins thrown in through the interstices of the gate by devotees on\nreciting their prayers. Numbers of pins have also been taken from the\nbeds of the Meuse and the Sambre at ancient fords, though whether they\nwere put into the water for any superstitious purpose is\nuncertain.[184.2]\n\nAt Croisic, in Upper Brittany, there is a well, called the Well of\nSaint Goustan, into which pins are thrown by those who wish to be\nmarried during the year. If the wish be granted, the pin will fall\nstraight to the bottom. Similar practices are said to be performed in\nLower Brittany, and in Poitou and Elsass.[184.3] Girls used to resort\nto the little {185} shrine of Saint Guirec, which stands on an\nisolated rock below high-water mark on the beach at Perros Guirec in\nLower Brittany, to pray for husbands. The worshipper, her prayer\nconcluded, stuck a pin into the wooden statue of the saint; and when I\nsaw the shrine, in the year 1889, the figure was riddled from top to\ntoe with pinholes. It was said that the prayer for a husband would\ninfallibly be granted within a year. On the other side of Brittany, in\nthe Morbihan, there is a chapel dedicated to Saint Uf\u00e9rier, credited\nwith a similar reputation. The saint\u2019s foot, if I may be guilty of a\nbull, is almost entirely composed of holes. It is, however, necessary\nhere that the pin should be a new one and quite straight; not that the\nprayer will not be granted otherwise, but the husband will be crooked,\nhumpbacked, and lame. In Upper Brittany, at St. Lawrence\u2019s Chapel near\nQuintin and elsewhere, the condition is that the pin be planted at the\nfirst blow; the marriage will then take place within the year.[185.1]\nTo avoid either the disfigurement or the desecration of this practice\nthe authorities of the churches of Saint Peter at Louvain and of\nBon-Secours at Brussels thoughtfully provide pincushions to receive\nthe proofs of the worshippers\u2019 pious enthusiasm;[185.2] but in\nBrittany the good priests are less fastidious.\n\nWhere the statue is of stone, it is of course impossible to plant the\npins. They are then simply laid upon it, or thrust into cracks or\nhollows in the surface. At Loscou\u00ebt young children are taken to the\nVirgin of Men\u00e8s near the mill of Meu, in order that they may soon\nwalk. The Virgin in question is nothing but the battered remains of a\nmullion {186} from a window in the ruined ch\u00e2teau of Men\u00e8s, formerly\nthe residence of the lords of Loscou\u00ebt before the signory passed to\nthe abb\u00e9 of Saint M\u00e9en. This mullion the simple peasants take for a\nstatue. The children are held by the armpits, and made to walk thrice\nround the Virgin, and pins are then placed upon her arms. At Penvenan\nthe chapel of Notre Dame du Port-Blanc is resorted to for the same\nobject. The parents exercise themselves in throwing small coins from\nthe nave into the choir at the statues of the Virgin, and of Saint\nYves of the Poor, and afterwards at those of Dives and Lazarus. The\nchildren are then put to pick the coins up and drop them into the\nVirgin\u2019s coffer. Lastly, they are marched round the pavement outside\nthe chapel; and within a fortnight they will certainly walk.[186.1]\n\nAll over France the like practices exist, or have died out only within\ncomparatively recent years. In the Protestant villages of\nMontb\u00e9liard, between the Vosges and the Jura, at the moment of\ncelebration of a wedding a nail was planted in the gallery (or, in\nsome places, in the floor) of the church, to \u201cnail\u201d or fasten the\nmarriage. In various parts of the country there are stone or iron\ncrosses which have doubtless replaced wooden ones. In the case of\nthese new crosses, votaries must content themselves with depositing\npins upon the arms or the pedestal, or in the joints.[186.2] In the\nvalley of Lunain there is a menhir called the Pierre Frite, in almost\nevery hole or fissure of which may be found a pin or a nail, placed\nthere by the youth of the neighbourhood in the belief that this action\nwill bring a {187} speedy marriage.[187.1] The well of Moni\u00e9s in the\ndepartment of Tarn had, at the beginning of the present century, a\ngreat renown for the cure of various diseases. The rags which had been\nused in bathing with the sacred water the diseased members, were left\nstretched out on the neighbouring bushes.[187.2] An instance where the\nhonour and glory, not to say the substantial gains attendant on the\nsuperstition, were early annexed by the Church is that of St.\nMichel-la-Rivi\u00e8re in the diocese of Bordeaux. Both the honour and the\ngains were considerable in the seventeenth century, as appears from\nquarrels between the cur\u00e9 and the fabriqueur of the church decided by\nthe Archbishop of Bordeaux, and other orders made by him. The sick man\nwas required to pass through a hole called a _veyrine_ at the end of\nthe apse; and the patients left offerings not merely of linen, but\nalso of money, wax, and other things.[187.3] Nor was this case at all\nsingular; for similar practices obtained wherever in the diocese was a\nchurch dedicated to St. Michael. In a North German example the object\nof veneration was an oak-tree; and the pilgrim, after creeping through\nthe hole in the prescribed manner, completed the performance by\nburying a piece of money under the roots. As many as a hundred\npatients a day are said to have visited it.[187.4] Here the Church had\nneglected her opportunities.\n\nWe have already dealt with the custom of creeping {188} through trees.\nOur concern at present is with the offerings. Passing the Pyrenees,\nlet us note that in the seventeenth century it was usual to stick\nneedles or pins in a certain tree belonging to the church of Saint\nChristopher, situated on a high mountain near the city of\nPampeluna.[188.1] At Naples it used to be the custom to lead a sick\nhorse round the church of Saint Elias, and afterwards to fasten one of\nhis shoes on the church-door.[188.2] One who suffers from intermittent\nfever will go and hang a small pebble on the inside of the door of\nSaint Giles\u2019 church in the Abruzzian commune of Lanciano.[188.3]\n\nA rite hitherto unexplained was practised from very early times at\nRome. From the date of the erection of the temple of Jupiter\nCapitolinus it was the custom on the festival of the dedication, the\nIdes of September, for the highest person of the state to drive a nail\ninto the right wall of the _Cella Jovis_. This was usually done by the\nconsuls or pr\u00e6tor; but in case of the appointment of a dictator the\nlatter performed the ceremony. After it was dropped as an annual\nperformance, recourse was occasionally had to it for the staying of a\npestilence, or as an atonement for crime. More ancient still was the\ncorresponding Etruscan practice of sticking a nail every year into the\ntemple of Nortia, the fate-goddess.[188.4] Curious parallels to this\ncustom are found in modern Europe. Near Angers was an oak which bore\nthe singular name of _Lapalud_. It was regarded as of the same\nantiquity as the town, and was covered with nails to the height of ten\nfeet or thereabouts. From {189} time immemorial every journeyman\ncarpenter, joiner, or mason who passed it, used to stick a nail in it.\nNear the cathedral at Vienna was the stock of an old tree, called the\n_Stock im Eisen_, said to be the last remnant of an ancient forest\nwhich once covered the neighbourhood. Every workman who passed through\nVienna was expected to fasten a nail in it; and it was in fact\ninvested with a complete coat of mail, consisting entirely of the\nheads of the nails it had thus received.[189.1] These two examples\nexisted almost down to the present day; elsewhere the rite appears to\nbe still in full force. At Evessen stands a lime-tree on a barrow\nwherein a golden coffin is believed to have been buried. In the trunk\n(which is seven m\u00e8tres in girth at the height of one m\u00e8tre from the\nsoil) are driven numbers of nails, some of them recently fixed. This\nis often done by travelling apprentices.[189.2]\n\nAt Athens, mothers bring their sick children to the little church of\nSanta Marina, under the Observatory Hill, and there undress them,\nleaving the old clothes behind. There is a dripping well near\nKotzanes, in Macedonia, \u201csaid to issue from the Nereids\u2019 breasts, and\nto cure all human ills. Those who would drink of it must enter the\ncave with a torch or lamp in one hand and pitcher in the other, which\nthey must fill with the water, and, leaving some scrap of their\nclothing behind them, must turn round without being scared by the\nnoises they may hear within, and quit the cave without ever looking\nback.\u201d[189.3] Among the inscriptions discovered at Epidauros,\nrecording the miraculous cures attributed to Asklepios, is the record\nof what happened to {190} Pandaros, a Thessalian who was afflicted\nwith certain unsightly marks upon his forehead. The god appeared to\nhim in a dream, pressing a bandage on the spots and directing him when\nhe left the chamber to take off the bandage and deposit it as an\noffering in the temple. When the patient untied the bandage in the\nmorning, the marks were transferred to it, leaving his forehead free;\nand he left the bandage in the temple, with this proof of his\nrecovery,[190.1] just as crutches are left in modern times at Roman\nCatholic shrines by persons who believe themselves healed by the\npresiding saint. It is clear from a reference by Aristophanes that the\nGreeks were in the habit on certain occasions of hanging articles of\ntheir clothing on, or even nailing them to, sacred trees as an\noffering to the god.[190.2] Indeed, allusions to the practice are not\nuncommon in Greek poetry. Among the Romans, Pompey is compared by\nLucan to a lofty oak, hung with old clothes and other votive\nofferings; and Vergil describes an olive-tree whereon the vests and\nvotive tablets of mariners who had escaped shipwreck were\nsuspended.[190.3] To-day in Lesbos sick women vow to walk before Our\nLady, or one of the saints, with bare feet, flowing hair, and their\nhands tied behind their backs with a handkerchief which they\nsubsequently leave suspended on the image. In one of their tied hands\nthey must contrive to carry a large lighted taper. Lofty sacred trees\nare still numerous, frequently growing in {191} the vicinity of some\nchapel. The sick suspend on the branches their shirts or their\ngirdles, in the hope, we are told, of leaving their ailments there.\nFeverish patients hang their clothes on a tree near the chapel of\nSaint John.[191.1]\n\nIn the Baltic Provinces of the Russian Empire stands a great sacred\naspen near the village of R\u00f6iks, which, up to the year 1845 at all\nevents, was hung with wreaths and many-coloured ribbons to win the\nfavour of the tree-spirit for sick cattle. Near Pallifer stood in the\nseventeenth century two holy elms, which are reported to have been\nhung and bound with ribbons, this time for the healing of human\nailments and to obtain good luck. An old lime-tree near the chapel of\nKeppo is also held sacred. Passers-by tear off ribbons and rags from\ntheir clothing and nail them upon it. The trees of the sacred woods on\nthe island of Oesel are hung with rags by the Esthonian inhabitants of\nthe island.[191.2] In the district of Vynnytzia, government of Podolia\nin Ukrainia, there is a mineral spring much resorted to. The sick,\nafter bathing, hang to the branches of the trees their shirts,\nhandkerchiefs, and other articles, \u201cas a mark,\u201d says M. Volkov, who\nreports the case, \u201cthat their diseases are left there.\u201d[191.3]\n\nIn the last chapter I mentioned a practice of the Masurs in Eastern\nPrussia of taking off the patient\u2019s shirt after an attack of fever,\ncarrying it to a cross-road and suspending it on a signpost. It is\nprobable that the signpost represents a sacred tree, or perhaps a\ncross. In Hungary there are two fountains resorted to for the cure of\nailing limbs; but it is essential to wait until the water-spirit is in\na good humour and to leave behind as an offering articles of {192}\nclothing and hair from the head. These are put upon the trees that\nstand around. Both in Hungary and in Transylvania ill-luck is like to\nbefall one when his name-day happens on a Friday. To avoid the\nthreatening evil, a rag is torn off the clothing, and hung, in\nTransylvania, on a tree before sunrise. The Magyar puts some of his\nblood and saliva on the rag and then burns it.[192.1]\n\nLeaving the real meaning of these ceremonies to be considered\nhereafter, we go on for the present with the search for parallel\nsuperstitions in other parts of the world. In Hindustan, a festival\ncalled Mel\u00e1 is held at the beginning of the month of M\u00e1gha (about\nthe middle of January) at the island of S\u00e1gar, at the mouth of the\nHugli. A temple of Kapila, who is held to be an incarnation of Vishnu,\nstands on the island, and in front of it is (or was) a Bur-tree,\nbeneath which were images of R\u00e1ma and Hanum\u00e1n, while an image of\nKapila, nearly of life-size, was within the temple. The pilgrims who\ncrowd thither at the festival commonly write their names on the walls,\nwith a short prayer to Kapila, or suspend a piece of earth or brick\nfrom a bough of the tree, offering at the same time a prayer and a\npromise, if the prayer be granted, to make a gift to some\ndivinity.[192.2] Shreds of clothing and feathers may be seen flying\nfrom the posts erected on the roofs of the Toda temple-huts in the\nNeilgherry Hills. The Korwas hang rags on the tree which constitutes\nthe shrine of their village gods. The Pat\u00e1ris, when attacked by\nfever, tie round a p\u00edpal-tree a cotton string that has never touched\nwater, and suspend rags from the branches. Elsewhere in India, as well\nas in Arabia and Persia, strips of cloth are {193} suspended from\nshrubs and trees, which, for some reason or other, are venerated; and,\nin Persia at all events, not only are rags, amulets, and other votive\nofferings found upon the trees, but the trees are also covered with\nnails.[193.1] At the source of the Jordan, as I am informed by Dr.\nRobert Munro, there is a tree hung with rags; and indeed such trees\nare not uncommon throughout Asiatic Turkey. Mohammed is said to have\nmade a pilgrimage to a similar one. At Tyana, in Cappadocia, was a\npillar to which persons used to go to nail their fevers.[193.2] With\nthis last may be compared an Athenian legend of Saint John, who is\ndeclared to have been a physician especially skilled in the treatment\nof fevers. Before his death he set up a column and bound under its\nfoundations with silken threads all manner of diseases; fevers with a\nyellow thread, measles with a red one, and so forth. And he said:\n\u201cWhen I die, let whosoever is sick come and tie to this column a\nsilken thread with three knots of the colour that his sickness takes,\nand say, \u2018Dear Saint John, I bind my sickness to the column, and do by\nthy favour loose it from me,\u2019 and then he will be healed.\u201d[193.3]\nNeither of these is an ordinary case of transference, however it may\nlook like it at first sight. It falls rather into the category of rags\nused to bathe a wounded limb and left in the holy well or on the\nbushes adjacent.\n\n{194}\n\nIn Tibet there are numerous heaps of stones erected by wayfarers, to\nwhich every one who passes adds, and where he prays. Lamas who come by\nset up stakes, fastening thereon a bit of silk or other stuff, so that\nthey resemble flags. At the tops of the passes in the mountains\nbetween Siam and Burmah are found heaps of stones. Passengers, besides\nstones, lay down on them flowers and leaves. Among the Mongols heaps\nof this kind are called _obo_; and they are said to be all consecrated\nby Buddhist lamas. Pousselgue describes one on a difficult pass\nbetween Urga and Kiachta. A rude image of Buddha was formed of two\nroughly chiselled blocks. By it stood a large granite urn for the\nburning of incense; and all around were numbers of stakes covered with\nofferings of clouts, pieces of paper, prayer-wheels, and even purses\nand objects of precious metal. Pousselgue\u2019s guide bowed down before\nthe obo and offered up a bit of his fur-robe.[194.1] Nobody who has\nread Mr. Cooper\u2019s amusing account of his marriage unawares to a girl\nin Eastern Tibet will forget how, when he got up to the top of a high\nhill, a little later in the day, with his bride, the lady contributed\nher quota of stones and prayers at the inevitable cairn, and then\ninsisted, first, that in order to secure their connubial happiness the\nbaggage must be unpacked and a couple of Khatah cloths taken out and\nfastened by her unwilling bridegroom to the flag-staves, and then that\nhe must prostrate himself in prayer with her. \u201cAnd there, on the\nsummit of a Tibetan mountain, kneeling before a heap of stones, my\nhand wet with the tears of a daughter of the country, I muttered\ncurses on the fate that had placed me in such a position.\u201d[194.2]\nSimilarly an English traveller in Lad\u00e1kh was compelled to gratify the\nspirits of {195} a certain pass with an offering of the leg of a\nworn-out pair of nankin trousers.[195.1] Nor is the custom confined to\nBuddhists. Among the Mr\u00fas of the Chittagong Hills every one on\nreaching the crest of a hill which he is crossing \u201cplucks a fresh\nyoung shoot of grass, and places it on a pile of the withered\nofferings of former journeyers who have gone before.\u201d[195.2]\n\nThe Karakasses, too, of Eastern Siberia make to the mountains and\nrivers which they pass offerings of tobacco, a branch of a tree, a\nstrip of a pelisse or some other trifle. The Kamtchadales and Teleouts\noffer pine-branches, pieces of meat, fish or cheese, packets of hair\nor horsehair, little furs or ribbons of cloth. The offerings dedicated\nto a mountain are suspended from a tree on some hill or other\nconspicuous place. The Tunguz call these trees Nalaktits.[195.3]\nErman, the German traveller in Siberia, records having seen in the\nwoods between Churopchinsk and Aruil\u00e1khinsk trees, at different\npoints along the road, hung thick with horse-hair. It was an ancient\ncustom of the nomadic Yakuts, he was told, to put tufts of their\nhorses\u2019 hair on these trees, and many of the tufts \u201chad so\nweather-beaten an appearance, that there could be no doubt of their\nantiquity.\u201d Every horseman who passed added to them, and the custom\nwas called by a name signifying propitiation for the Spirit of the\nWoods.[195.4] In the Alaze\u00ef Mountains, on the road from Kolymsk to\nVerkhoiansk, is the tomb of a famous Tchuktchi sorceress. All who pass\ndeposit offerings: on the cross they hang strips of cloth and\nhorsehair; at its foot they lay pieces of meat and fish. {196} He who\nforgets this act of homage is always punished. The devils cause him to\nlose his way, his horse breaks a limb, or his sledge is\nshattered.[196.1] The Kirghiz honour a solitary poplar, said to be the\nonly tree standing between Fort Orsk on the Ural river and the Sea of\nAral. It is covered with shreds torn from the clothing of the\ntribesmen who have worshipped at it. A certain wild plum-tree is also\nreverenced in the same way. The number of rags and pieces of\nsheep-skin attached to it is constantly increasing.[196.2] Every\ntraveller from Marco Polo downward speaks of the practice as rife in\nCentral Asia. Many of the Tartars are Mohammedans; and the shrine of\nevery Mohammedan saint is adorned with rams\u2019 horns and with long bits\nof dirty rag, a pious gift no pilgrim would omit to tie on some\nadjacent stick or tree.[196.3]\n\nSacred trees covered with clouts hung by votaries, as well as piles of\nstones cast from the hands of wayfarers, are to be seen everywhere in\nCorea.[196.4] We are told that \u201cdevils\u201d--probably, as in the Tchuktchi\nsuperstition, a generic term for spirits--\u201care supposed to inhabit\ncertain withered trees; and the natives are careful never to pass a\ndevil-tree without throwing a stone at it, or tying a piece of cloth\nto one of its branches. If they omit to do this, evil, they believe,\nis sure to come to them and their families.\u201d[196.5] Mr. J. F. Campbell\nrecords having found in Japan \u201cstrips of cloth, bits of rope, slips of\npaper, writings, bamboo strings, flags, tags, and prayers hanging from\nevery temple,\u201d and small piles of stones at the foot of every image\n{197} and memorial-stone, and on every altar by the wayside; and he\ndraws attention to the similarity of the practices implied to those of\nhis native country.[197.1] Another traveller in Japan states that\nwomen who desire children go to a certain sacred stone on the holy\nhill of Nikko, and throw pebbles at it. If they succeed in hitting it\ntheir wish is granted. They seem very clever at the game, he says\nmaliciously. Further, the same writer speaks of a seated statue of\nBuddha in the park of Uyeno at Tokio, on whose knees women flung\nstones with the same object. Describing a temple elsewhere, he records\nthat the grotesque figures placed at the door were covered--or, as he\nmore accurately puts it, constellated--with pellets of chewed paper\nshot through the railing that surrounded them by persons who had some\nwish to be fulfilled. A successful shot implied the probability of the\nattainment of the shooter\u2019s desire.[197.2] Japanese pilgrims also\npaste up their cards containing name and address on the doors or\npillars of the shrines they visit.[197.3]\n\n{198}\n\nIn another Asiatic island, Borneo, a tree hung with countless rags is\noften seen at the cross-ways, and every passenger tears off a piece of\nhis clothing and fastens it on the tree. The natives who practise it\ncan give no other account of the custom than that they fear for their\nhealth if they omit it. Dr. Ten Kate lately found twice in the island\nof Great Bastard under the branches of a large tree a heap of stones\nwhereon fishermen were wont to place rags of red, green or\nmany-coloured calico. In the same way an old tree-trunk, or a stake\npropped upright with stones, is found here and there in the Egyptian\ndesert adorned with shreds and tatters of clothing; for every pilgrim\nas he passes adds a rag. Such a tree is a certain ancient\ntamarisk-tree, called \u201cthe Mother of Clouts,\u201d between Dar-el-beida and\nSuez. In the Mohammedan districts of North Africa trees of this kind\nare known as Marabout-trees; and it is thought that by tying on one of\nthem a screed from one\u2019s clothing all evil and sickness passes over to\nthe tree, which is generally a crippled, miserable specimen.[198.1]\n\nBut the custom is not confined in Africa any more than in Asia to\nMohammedan districts. The Shilluk on the White Nile derive their\norigin from an ancestor whom they call Niekam; and from his sacred\ntree they suspend glass beads and pieces of stuff.[198.2] On the\nwestern side of the continent, Mungo Park found a tree in the kingdom\nof Woolli decorated with innumerable rags or scraps of cloth {199}\ntied upon its branches at different times by travellers. He\nconjectures that it was at first intended as an indication that water\nwas to be found not far off; but of this there is no evidence. The\ncustom was, as he says, so greatly sanctioned by time that nobody\npresumed to pass without hanging up something; and the intrepid\nexplorer himself followed the example. A pool was, in fact, found not\nfar off, as his Negroes predicted.[199.1] A French traveller in the\nregion of the Congo relates with astonishment concerning the\n_n\u2019dok\u00e9_--which he portrays as \u201cfetishes important enough to occupy a\nspecial hut, and confided to the care of a sort of priests, who alone\nare reputed to have the means of making them speak\u201d--that when it is\ndesired to invoke the fetish, one or more pieces of native cloth, and\nthe like, are offered to it or to the fetish-priest; and the\nworshipper is then admitted to plant a nail in the statue, the priest\nmeanwhile, or the worshipper himself, formulating his prayer or his\ndesires.[199.2] Another French traveller in the watershed of the upper\nNiger reports the custom of sacrificing animals under sacred trees.\nThe animal when slain is eaten; its head is placed under the tree, or\nsuspended from one of the branches, or laid in a fork. Pottery of\nvarious kinds, handles of old agricultural implements, old clothes and\ncalabashes, cow-tails, and so forth, lie around the fetish-tree; and\nunder one such tree he saw a piece of {200} hollow wood propped on\nforks and filled with grass and other plants.[200.1]\n\nIn the New World the practice does not seem so common. Darwin,\nhowever, notes one instance. On the sandstone plain from which the\nvalley of the Rio Negro has been carved, not far from the town of\nPatagones, is a solitary tree reverenced by the aborigines as a god by\nthe name of Walleechu. The traveller found it leafless, being\nwinter-time; but from numberless threads were suspended on the\nbranches cigars, bread, meat, pieces of cloth and other things. \u201cPoor\nIndians,\u201d he says, \u201cnot having anything better, only pull a thread out\nof their ponchos, and fasten it to the tree. Richer Indians are\naccustomed to pour spirits and _mat\u00e9_ into a certain hole, and\nlikewise to smoke upwards, thinking thus to afford all possible\ngratification to Walleechu. To complete the scene, the tree was\nsurrounded by the bleached bones of horses which had been slaughtered\nas sacrifices. All Indians of every age and sex make their offerings;\nthey then think that their horses will not tire, and that they\nthemselves shall be prosperous.\u201d[200.2]\n\nTo sum up:--We find widely spread in Europe the practice of throwing\npins into sacred wells, or sticking pins or nails into sacred images\nor trees, or into the wall of a temple, or floor of a church,\nand--sometimes accompanying this, more usually alone--a practice of\ntying rags or leaving portions of clothing upon a sacred tree or bush,\nor a tree or bush overhanging, or adjacent to, a sacred well, or of\ndepositing them in or about the well. The object of this rite is\ngenerally the attainment of some wish, or the granting {201} of some\nprayer, as for a husband, or for recovery from sickness. In the Roman\ninstance it was a solemn religious act, to which (in historical times\nat least) no definite meaning seems to have been attached; and the\nlast semblance of a religious character has vanished from the\nanalogous performances at Angers and Vienna. In Asia we have the\ncorresponding customs of writing the name on the walls of a temple,\nsuspending some apparently trivial article upon the boughs of a sacred\ntree, flinging pellets of chewed paper or stones at sacred images, and\nattaching rags, writings, and other things to the temples, and to\ntrees. Trees are adorned in the same way with rags and other useless\nthings in Africa--a practice not unknown, though rare, in America. On\nthe Congo a nail is driven into an idol in the Breton manner. It\ncannot be doubted that the purpose and origin of all these customs are\nidentical, and that an explanation of one will explain all.\n\nThe most usual explanations are, first, that the articles left are\nofferings to the god or presiding spirit, and, secondly, that they\ncontain the disease of which one desires to be rid, and transfer it to\nany one who touches or removes them. These two explanations appear to\nbe mutually exclusive, though Professor Rhys suggests that a\ndistinction is to be drawn between the pins and the rags. The pins, he\nthinks, may be offerings; and it is noteworthy that in some cases they\nare replaced by buttons or small coins. The rags, on the other hand,\nmay be, in his view, the vehicles of the disease. If this opinion were\ncorrect, one would expect to find both ceremonies performed by the\nsame patient at the same well: he would throw in the pin and also\nplace the rag on the bush, or wherever its proper place might be. The\nperformance of _both_ ceremonies {202} is, however, I think,\nexceptional. Where the pin or button is dropped into the well, the\npatient does not trouble about the rag, and _vice vers\u00e2_. Professor\nRhys only cites one case to the contrary. There the visit to the well\nwas prescribed as a remedy for warts. Each wart was to be pricked with\na pin, and the pin bent and thrown into the well. The warts were then\nto be rubbed with tufts of wool collected on the way to the well, and\nthe wool was to be put on the first whitethorn the patient could find.\nAs the wind scattered the wool the warts would disappear. Upon this\none or two observations may be made. Either the act of affixing the\nwool bears the meaning assigned in the last chapter to similar\npractices, or the rite only survives in a degraded form, and\noriginally some definite sacred tree was its object. If the latter,\nthen the rite is here duplicated. For if the pins were really\nofferings, to be distinguished in character from the deposits of wool,\nthe prescription to touch the warts with them would be meaningless.\nBut we must surely deem that whatever value attached to the rubbing of\nthe warts with wool would equally attach to their pricking with the\npins.\n\nMoreover, the curious detail mentioned by Mrs. Evans in reference to\nthe rags tied on the bushes at Elian\u2019s Well--namely, that they must be\ntied on with wool--points further to a degradation of the rite in the\ncase we are now examining. Probably at one time rags were used, and\nsimply tied to the sacred tree with wool. What may have been the\nreason for using wool remains to be discovered. But it is easy to see\nhow, if the reason were lost, the wool might be looked upon as the\nessential condition of the due performance of the ceremony, and so\ncontinue after the disuse of the rags.\n\n{203}\n\nNor can we stop here. From all we know of the process of ceremonial\ndecay, we may be tolerably sure that the rags represent entire\narticles of clothing, which were at an earlier period deposited. There\nis no need to discuss here the principle of substitution and\nrepresentation, so familiar to all students of folklore. It is\nsufficient to point out that, since the rite is almost everywhere in a\nstate of decay, the presumption is in favour of entire garments having\nbeen originally deposited; and that, in fact, we do find this original\nform of the rite in the ancient and several of the modern examples I\nhave cited on the continent of Europe and elsewhere. Entire articles\nof clothing seem also to have been usually left at several Scottish\nwells in quite recent times. Such was a chalybeate spring in the\nparish of Kennethmont, Aberdeenshire. As its virtue was invoked not\nonly for human beings but for cattle, the tribute consisted of \u201cpart\nof the clothes of the sick and diseased, and harness of the\ncattle.\u201d[203.1] If we may trust the slovenly compilation of Mr. R. C.\nHope on the holy wells of Scotland, a traveller in 1798, from whom he\nprofesses to quote, but whom he neither names nor identifies, relates\nof the Holy Pool of Strathfillan in Perthshire, that \u201ceach person\ngathers up nine stones in the pool, and after bathing, walks to a hill\nnear the water, where there are three cairns, round each of which he\nperforms three turns, at each turn depositing a stone; and if it is\nfor any bodily pain, fractured limb, or sore, that they are bathing,\nthey throw upon one of those cairns that part of their clothing which\ncovered the part affected; also, if they have at home any beast that\nis diseased, they have only to bring some of the meal which it feeds\nupon, and make it into paste with {204} these waters, and afterwards\ngive it to him to eat, which will prove an infallible cure; but they\nmust likewise throw upon the cairn the rope or halter with which he\nwas led. Consequently the cairns are covered with old halters, gloves,\nshoes, bonnets, night-caps, rags of all sorts, kilts, petticoats,\ngarters and smocks. Sometimes they go as far as to throw away their\nhalfpence.\u201d[204.1] From this account it appears that stones from the\npool, rags, garments which had covered the diseased parts of the\ndevotees, and halfpence, had all the same value. The stones could not\nhave been offerings, and it was evidently not usual to throw away\nhalfpence. The gifts of rags and articles of clothing are ambiguous.\nIf we must choose between regarding them as offerings and as vehicles\nof disease, the analogy of the gifts at the shrine of Saint\nMichel-la-Rivi\u00e8re favours the former. Under ecclesiastical patronage,\nhowever, the rite had doubtless been manipulated to the benefit of the\nofficials; and we can use the instance no further than as proof that\nthe deposit of garments was ambiguous enough to develop sometimes into\npious gifts, if it developed at other times into devices for the\nshuffling of disease off the patient on another person.[204.2]\n\nCairns have already been mentioned as occurring in {205} Buddhist\nlands, where we found an apparent equality in the offerings of stones\nand of other things at these sacred places, just as at Strathfillan.\nBut the custom of erecting piles of stones is so ancient and\nwidespread, that it may be worth while looking at it a little more\nclosely before proceeding with our inquiry. Dr. Andree, whose\nethnographical collections have furnished me with many examples for\nthe present chapter, has brought together a large number of instances\nof cairns from all quarters of the globe. They resolve themselves, on\nexamination, into three classes.\n\nFirst are those to which no additions are made and where no rites are\nperformed. Of such it may be said broadly that they only exist where\nthe original purpose of the cairn has been forgotten, and probably the\nrace that erected it has passed away. Of this kind was the cairn at\nGilead, said to have been erected by Jacob and Laban on the scene of\ntheir final reconciliation and parting.[205.1] It is hardly necessary\nto say that there is nothing worthy of being called evidence in favour\nof the tradition preserved in Genesis. We may conjecture that it was a\nplace held sacred by the predecessors of the conquering Hebrews. If\nthe Batoka were not in the habit of adding to the pile {206} mentioned\nby Livingstone, that pile must be set down as belonging to the same\nclass. They declared it was made by their forefathers by way of\nprotest against the wrong done them by another tribe not named, as an\nalternative to fighting.[206.1] The omission of the name of the\noffending tribe is an index to their forgetfulness of the real object\nof the cairn. Such, too, were the small heaps of stones found by\nDarwin on the summit of the Sierra de las Animas in Uruguay. The\nIndians are extirpated from the district, and nobody knows the purpose\nfor which the heaps were erected.[206.2]\n\nAnother kind of cairn is that which is piled over the place where\ndeath, especially a violent death, has been suffered. To this every\nwayfarer makes his contribution; and doubtless originally the dead\nbody lay beneath the mass. The most familiar instances are the cairns\nraised over Achan and Absalom.[206.3] The custom, however, is by no\nmeans confined to the Hebrews, or to the Semitic race; and in\ndistricts where stones are few, branches and pieces of wood are piled.\nThus, near Leipzig is a heap of boughs to which every passenger adds\nthree. Elsewhere in Germany, in Italy, Switzerland, Brittany, Lesbos,\nArmenia, the upper valley of the Nile, the Philippine Islands, Hawaii,\nWisconsin, South Carolina, Venezuela, the valley of the Plate, and\nPatagonia, similar piles are recorded, as well as among the Bushmen\nand Amakosa of South Africa. The Bushmen are reported to declare that\nthe Devil is buried under these heaps; and every Bushman throws a\nstone as he passes, that Satan may not rise again. In case of\nsickness, pilgrimages are made to them and prayers for help {207}\noffered.[207.1] The various graves of Heitsi-eibib, or Tsuni-\u01c1goam,\nthe ancestor-god of the Khoi-khoi, are marked by cairns on which every\none who passes by flings a stone or twig. Sometimes the offering is a\npiece of the wayfarer\u2019s clothes, flowers or zebra-dung. A prayer for\nsuccess is muttered if the wayfarer be hunting; and occasionally even\nhoney and honey-beer are offered.[207.2] These graves are, in fact,\nshrines of worship. And it is noteworthy that the gifts to the\ndivinity are in general of no value in themselves, and that prominent\namong them are the stones and branches which are thrown, in other\nparts of the world, upon grave-cairns to which no other act of worship\nis now offered.\n\nThe third class of cairns consists of such as are erected on spots\nwhich for any reason are recognised as sacred. To this class belong\nthe obo of Tibet. In Buddhist lands cairns are to be seen on the top\nof every pass and almost of every mountain. Frequently they are\nadorned with prayer-streamers and bones of sheep; and flat stones\ninscribed with the formula _Om mani padme hum_ are laid upon them by\nworshippers. Passengers constantly add to the pile rough stones which\nthey have picked up in climbing the ascent. In India cairns,\nespecially cairns of _Kankar_, or calcareous limestone, to which every\none adds, are not uncommon. Such is the shrine of Anktaha Bir, the\nhero of the Kankar-heap, in the village of Ni\u00e1matpur.[207.3] {208}\nAmong the Dyaks of Batang Lupar the heaps are said to be erected in\nmemory of great liars. Stones and branches are thrown upon them; and\nafter the liar\u2019s name has been long forgotten the heap remains. In the\nCaucasus the mountain-tops are sacred to the prophet Elijah (who,\nthere is little reason to doubt, has succeeded to an ancient\nthunder-god) or to some other saint. Perilous places and places struck\nby lightning are marked by cairns. At the latter a pole is stuck up\nfrom which a black goat-skin flies. Around a certain rock in the\nSinaitic peninsula Professor Palmer found small heaps of stones, said\nto have been first erected by the Israelites in memory of the water\nobtained from that very rock by Moses. The Arabs retain the practice\nin hopes of propitiating the great lawgiver. If any of them have a\nsick friend, he throws a stone in his name, and in the expectation of\nhis speedy recovery. In Arabia, indeed, heaps of this kind are often\nto be seen, some of them of enormous size. In South America the passes\nof the Cordilleras are marked by cairns originally built before the\nConquest. To this day the Indians fling stones upon them, or lay there\na little offering of fresh coca-leaves, or spit upon them the\ncoca-quids they have been chewing. Sometimes they stand and pull out a\nfew of their eyebrow-hairs, blowing them in the direction of the\nsun--an ancient rite recorded by the Spanish conquerors among their\nobservations of the Peruvian cult. In North America piles of stones\nare often mentioned, to which every traveller is accustomed to add.\nThe old inhabitants of Nicaragua threw stones and grass upon them,\nbelieving themselves thereby to be freed from hunger and fatigue. In\nEurope, Saint Wolfgang\u2019s chapel and well are renowned among the\nshrines of the Salzkammergut. Up the steep {209} stony path on either\nside pilgrims carry to the sacred spot heavy stones, which now lie\nthere in heaps. The story goes that when enough have been gathered,\nthe saint will build himself a new and larger church; but this is, of\ncourse, a modern theory to account for the practice.[209.1] In the\nAran Islands, though we are not told of any such piles, \u201cnumerous\nrounded pebbles are placed on the well and on the altar of St. Columb\nKill.\u201d[209.2] On the island of Iniskill, off the coast of Donegal, on\nthe other hand, there is a place of pilgrimage where the last of the\n\u201cstations\u201d performed by the pilgrims is a rough pile of stones,\nformerly the altar of a now ruined church. On the top of the pile is\nlaid a flat stone, through which a circular hole about three inches in\ndiameter has been bored. In this hole Mr. Borlase found shreds of\ncoloured stuff (doubtless from their own clothes), rosaries and bronze\nmedals, put there by devotees.[209.3] Lastly, it may be mentioned\nthat, among the Basuto, heaps of stones are to be found by the wayside\nnear a village, to which every traveller adds a pebble, on which he\nhas first spit.[209.4]\n\nLooking over this long list, it is obvious that the second and third\nclasses of cairns are practically the same. Burial-places {210} are\nsacred all the world over. They are the residence of the dead, who\nmust always be propitiated--all the more if they have died in a manner\nunusual or regarded with horror. And not only must they be\npropitiated, but their powers, which are much dreaded, must be secured\nin aid of the living. The Bushman\u2019s fear that Satan may rise again is\na Christian interpretation. It means that he feared lest the spirit\nwhich haunted the pile, whoever he might have been, should rise to\ninjure him. The fact of pilgrimages being made to the spot unites it\nwith holy places of the third class. Whatever, therefore, may be the\nmeaning of the offerings at the latter, it is the same as that of the\nsticks and stones, and other things thrown upon grave-cairns. Now, no\nvalid distinction can be drawn between these offerings and those at\nwells and trees and other shrines of the kind, enumerated in an\nearlier part of the present chapter. Alike--and this is a point of\ncardinal importance in the interpretation of all these practices--the\ngifts are in the main of small intrinsic worth. It is rarely that we\nread of gold or silver tribute. Occasionally, under favouring\necclesiastical and other influences, the offerings develop into things\nof value; but for the most part, whatever their significance may be,\nit is derived from the giver. The stone is flung, the nail is fixed,\nby his hand; the rag is torn from his clothes; the coca-quids are from\nhis mouth. The _Landn\u00e1mab\u00f3k_ mentions an early settler of Iceland\nnamed Thorsteinn Red-nose. He worshipped a certain waterfall, and into\nit all remnants had to be thrown.[210.1] This was not a mere paltry\neconomy of worship; for we are told {211} he was \u201ca great bl\u00f3t-man,\u201d\nin other words, open-handed towards the gods. By casting his remnants\ninto the waterfall he expected to secure the favour of the divinity;\nand in so doing he acted on the principle which animates the pilgrims\nat sacred wells and trees, and the travellers who never pass by a\nsacred cairn without contributing their quota to the pile.\n\nWith the practices at cairns in our mind, then, let us return to the\ncustoms at wells and trees.\n\nM. Monseur, fixing his attention on instances like those of the Croix\nSaint Z\u00e8 and Saint Guirec, in which pins or nails were stuck into the\ncross, or tree, or figure of the saint, suggests that the aim was, by\ncausing pain or inconvenience to the object of worship, to keep in his\nmemory the worshipper\u2019s prayer. And he refers, by way of illustration,\nto the tortures inflicted on children at the beating of boundaries,\nand to the flogging said to have been given to children in Lorraine on\nthe occasion of a capital punishment, the intention of which\nincontestably was to preserve a recollection of the place or the\nincident.[211.1] M. Gaidoz, dealing with similar cases, and similar\ncases only, propounded years ago a theory somewhat different. In\nreplying recently to M. Monseur, he recalls his previous exposition,\nand reiterates it in these words: \u201cThe idol is a god who always\nappears somewhat stupid; it moves not, it speaks not, and,\nperadventure, it does not hear very well. It must be made to\nunderstand by a sign, and a sign which will be at the same time a\nmemento. In touching the idol, especially in touching the member\ncorresponding to that which suffers, its attention is directed to the\nprayer. And more than that is done in leaving a nail or a pin in its\nbody, {212} for this is a material memento for the idol.\u201d In putting\nit in this way, the learned professor does not desire to exclude the\nideas of an offering and a transfer of disease, for he expressly adds\nthat both these ideas are mingled with that of a memento.[212.1]\n\nLet us take stock of the conditions to be fulfilled in order to a\nsatisfactory solution of the problem. It must be equally applicable to\nsacred images, crosses, trees, wells, cairns and temples. It must\naccount not merely for the pins in wells and the rags on trees, but\nalso for the nails in trees, the pins in images, the earth or bricks\nhung on the sacred tree in India, the stones and twigs, flowers and\ncoca-quids thrown upon cairns, the pellets which constellate Japanese\nidols, the strips of cloth and other articles which decorate Japanese\ntemples, the pilgrims\u2019 names written on the walls of the temple of\nKapila on the banks of the Hugli, the nails fixed by the consuls in\nthe Cella Jovis at Rome, and those driven into the galleries or floors\nof Protestant churches in Eastern France. These are the outcome of\nequivalent practices, and the solution of their meaning, if a true\none, must fit them all. M. Gaidoz\u2019 suggestion of a memento comes\nnearer to this ideal than any other hitherto put forward. But does it\ntouch cases like those of the Lapalud, the Stock im Eisen, and the\nCella Jovis, where the rite was unaccompanied by any prayer? The two\nformer cases, indeed, if they stood alone, might be deemed worn and\ndegraded relics of a rite once gracious with adoration, prayer and\nthanksgiving. But nothing of the sort accompanied the driving of a\nnail into the wall of the temple of Jupiter, nor, so far as we can\nlearn, the yet older custom observed by the Etruscans at Vulsinii, of\n{213} sticking a nail every year in the temple of Nortia, the\nfate-goddess. On the contrary, in both these classical instances the\nrite was so bare and so ill-understood, that it was looked upon merely\nas an annual register or record. Almost as little does M. Gaidoz\u2019\nexplanation seem to fit the throwing of pins into a well, the burial\nof a coin, as in Mecklenburgh, under a tree, or the marriage-nails of\nMontb\u00e9liard. Like M. Monseur\u2019s theory, it is applicable in its full\nsignificance only to examples of the rite as practised on statues; and\nit assumes that trees and crosses and other rude forms are mere\nmakeshifts for the carven image, deteriorated survivals of idols\nstrictly so called.[213.1] But this is to put the cart before the\nhorse. There is no reason to suppose that the practices I have\ndescribed originated later than the carving of sacred images, and were\nat first a peculiarity of their worship. There is every reason to\n{214} suppose exactly the reverse. And in this connection it is\nsignificant that neither at Rome nor at Vulsinii (the earliest\nexamples we have in point of time) were the nails fastened into the\nimage, but into the temple wall.\n\nI believe that a profounder thought forms the common ground in which\nall the customs under consideration--or, as I should prefer to say,\nall the variations of a single custom--are rooted. They are simply\nanother application of the reasoning that underlies the practices of\nwitchcraft and folk-medicine discussed in previous chapters. If an\narticle of my clothing in a witch\u2019s hands may cause me to suffer, the\nsame article in contact with a beneficent power may relieve my pain,\nrestore me to health, or promote my general prosperity. A pin that has\npricked my wart, even if not covered with my blood, has by its\ncontact, by the wound it has inflicted, acquired a peculiar bond with\nthe wart; the rag that has rubbed the wart has by that friction\nacquired a similar bond; so that whatever is done to the pin or the\nrag, whatever influences the pin or the rag may undergo, the same\ninfluences are by that very act brought to bear upon the wart. If,\ninstead of using a rag, I rub my warts with raw meat and then bury the\nmeat, the wart will decay and disappear with the decay and dissolution\nof the meat. In like manner my shirt or stocking, or a rag to {215}\nrepresent it, placed upon a sacred bush, or thrust into a sacred\nwell--my name written upon the walls of a temple--a stone or a pellet\nfrom my hand cast upon a sacred image or a sacred cairn--a remnant of\nmy food cast into a sacred waterfall or bound upon a sacred tree, or a\nnail from my hand driven into the trunk of the tree--is thenceforth in\ncontinual contact with divinity; and the effluence of divinity,\nreaching and involving it, will reach and involve me. In this way I\nmay become permanently united with the god.\n\nThis is an explanation which I think will cover every case. Of course,\nit cannot be denied that there are instances, like some of the\nJapanese and Breton cases, where, the real object of the rite having\nbeen forgotten, the practice has become to a slight extent deflected\nfrom its earlier form. But it is not difficult to trace the steps\nwhereby the idea and practice of divination became substituted for\nthat of union with the object of devotion. Still less can it be denied\nthat, where the practice has not been deflected, the real intention\nhas in most places been obscured. These phenomena are familiar to us\neverywhere, and will mislead no one who understands that the real\nmeaning is not what the people who practise a rite say about it, but\nthat which emerges from a comparison of analogous observances.\n\nA few other customs remain to be considered. Prominent among these is\na rite well known to all students of classical antiquity--that of the\nconsecration of locks of hair at various shrines. It was usually\nperformed in consequence of a vow made by the parents at birth. The\nactual ceremony took place on arriving at manhood or womanhood. A lock\nof the hair and of the sprouting beard of the youth, a tress from the\nmaiden\u2019s head, was cut off and presented {216} to the god; and in\nGreece the youth then received the clothing of an ephebos and was\nadmitted to such of the privileges of a free citizen as his age\nentitled him. The dedication of the hair was regarded as a symbol of\nthat of the entire person. And this dedication was extended to other\noccasions, such as before marriage, before and after childbed, or at\nthe time of making or fulfilling a vow. Pausanias mentions a statue of\nHygeia hardly to be seen, by reason partly of the hair cut off by\nwomen and bound or placed upon it.[216.1] On the death of one very\ndear, a lock of the survivor\u2019s hair was frequently cut off and placed\nin the corpse\u2019s hand or upon the grave, as Herakles did to Sostratos,\nand Achilles to Patroklos. So Death was said to cut off the hair of\nthose who were about to die. Euripides represents him as declaring:\n\n      \u201cSacred to us Gods below\n That head whose hair this sword shall sanctify.\u201d\n\nGraves and sacred trees were favourite places for the deposit of the\nhair. Beneath the olive which grew upon the tomb of Hyperoche and\nLaodike, in the entrance of the sanctuary of Artemis at Delos, epheboi\nlaid the first fruits of their beards, and bridal pairs their hair. At\nMegara was the grave of the virgin Iphinoe, the daughter of Alcathous.\nBrides there performed funeral rites, before the wedding ceremony, and\ncut off their hair. The Roman Vestals, on attaining womanhood,\nconsecrated to Juno Lucina and {217} hung upon her tree, which was\nolder than the temple, the locks of their hair; whence it was called\nthe _arbor capillata_. At the completion of the mysteries of Cybele\nthe votaries dedicated locks of their hair at the door of her temple;\nand in the same way the Bacchic votaries, when their mysteries were\nfinished, dedicated their locks at sacred pine-trees. In this\nconnection, too, we may remember that the Flamen Dialis buried the\nclippings of his hair and nails beneath a lucky tree.[217.1]\n\nThe usage also extended to the Hebrews. It is referred to in the\nlegislation on vows and on mourning; and many examples are familiar to\nus in the Bible, from Samson and Job to the Apostle Paul. The ancient\nArabs and Egyptians also on similar occasions cut or shaved their\nhair.[217.2] Nor was it confined to ancient times. In the seventeenth\ncentury the Serbs used to cut their hair and bind it on the grave of a\ndead relative; and among the Albanians the sisters, daughters-in-law,\ngrown-up daughters and wife of a dead man are said still to cut their\nhair in token of grief. The mourning women at Lecce in Apulia pluck\nout their hair and strew it on the corpse.[217.3] Zingerle quotes from\nan old manuscript in the Franciscan monastery at Botzen in the Tirol a\nsuperstition which directs the hair of a sick man to be cut off,\nrolled in wax and afterwards offered at some sacred shrine.[217.4] A\nstory is told in the province of Posen of the daughter of a\nday-labourer who was sick and given up by the physician. She begged\nher parents, as they stood by her bed plunged in helpless grief, {218}\nto cut off her hair and lay it upon the crucifix in the convent at\nExin. This was done, and she recovered; and, marvellous to state, the\nhair grew upon the head of the crucifix until it reached the ground,\nto the gratification of the pious from all parts of the\nprovince.[218.1] At Flastroff, in Lorraine, sick or vicious horses are\ntaken in pilgrimage to the shrine of Saint Elias on the 25th June.\nAfter mass, at which the owners of the animals are present, the horses\nare paraded round the outside of the chapel. A handful of hairs from\nthe tail of each of them is deposited on the steps of the altar,\nsometimes accompanied by a gift of money; and the owner takes away a\ncupful of holy water, made for the purpose, in order to mix it with\nthe animal\u2019s drink. The custom of taking the horses themselves is now\ndisappearing. The owners, instead, take their handfuls of horsehair,\nmake the tour of the altar after mass to kiss the relic of the saint,\nand deposit the offerings of hair in a niche in the wall of the apse\non the left side of the altar. And this has probably been found\nequally efficacious.[218.2]\n\nIn some districts of the Abruzzi there is yet practised a rite that\nseems to be a survival of an ancient act of worship such as I have\njust referred to. Two or more girls who are desirous of swearing\neternal friendship of the most sacred kind join hands in a church and\ncompass the altar three times. They afterwards exchange kisses; and\neach of them, pulling out a hair, hides it in some hole or dark recess\nof the building. One of them then, standing in {219} front of the\naltar, lifts her hand as if to count her companions, and solemnly\nchants verses, the import of which is to pronounce them henceforth\ngossips, spiritual kindred, entitled to share one another\u2019s food, and\nfurther to invoke blessing or ban, according as either of them shall\nfulfil or neglect the duties of the relationship.[219.1] Reginald\nScot, apparently quoting Martin of Arles and speaking of the\nSpaniards, mentions that \u201cmaids forsooth hang some of their haire\nbefore the image of S. Urbane, bicause they would have the rest of\ntheir haire grow long and be yellow.\u201d[219.2] Pettigrew cites Mr. and\nMrs. S. C. Hall as authorities for the statement that pilgrims to\nTubber Quan, near Carrick-on-Suir, a sacred well dedicated to Saints\nQuan and Brogawn, after performing certain circuits and reciting\nprayers, go thrice round a tree on their bare knees and then cut off\nlocks of their hair and tie them on the branches as a specific against\nheadache. The tree, we are told, was an object of veneration and was\ncovered with human hair.[219.3] So at the two Hungarian fountains\nalready mentioned clothes and hair from the patients\u2019 heads are left\non adjacent trees \u201cas gifts for the water-spirit.\u201d[219.4] In Turkey\namong the Greek Christians three tiny locks are cut, if they can be\nfound on a baby\u2019s head at his baptism, and thrown into the font in the\nname of the Trinity; and the font is afterwards emptied into a pit or\nwell under the floor of the church.[219.5]\n\nOutside Europe the ritual cutting and dedication of hair has been\nfound in modern times all over the world. I have space for but few\nexamples, and must content myself {220} with referring the reader for\nothers to the learned work on the subject by the late Professor\nWilken, who has made a large collection. Mr. Ainsworth relates that he\nsaw in an Arab cemetery on the Euphrates tresses of hair attached to\nsticks over the graves of females.[220.1] And Olearius, who was in\nPersia in 1637, saw a funeral procession in which three men carried\nbefore the corpse each one a tree (the equivalent, probably, of Mr.\nAinsworth\u2019s sticks) bearing, among other things, three tresses of the\nwives of the dead man, torn or cut off in sign of fidelity.[220.2]\nWhen King Ummeda of B\u00fandi, in India, abdicated, an image was made of\nhim and burnt on a funeral pyre, as if it had been his corpse; and\namong the ceremonies was that of taking off the hair and whiskers of\nhis successor and offering them to his _manes_.[220.3] At the junction\nof the Ganges and Jumna and at other sacred places of pilgrimage,\nHindu women cause their hair to be cut by the priest with golden\nshears, and the locks thrown with certain ceremonies into the\nstream.[220.4] The Kirghiz, nominally adherents of Islam, have shrines\nat the graves of sundry holy men, to whom they offer prayer and\nsacrifice, and fasten not only ribbons and strips of cloth, but also\nhair to the bushes, reeds and tall grasses growing around.[220.5]\nAmong the offerings to P\u00e9l\u00e9, the goddess of the volcano Kirauea in\nHawaii, Mr. Ellis found at her temple locks of human hair; and he\nlearned that they were frequently presented by those who passed by the\ncrater.[220.6] About Lake Nyassa, {221} in East Central Africa, one of\nthe funeral rites is the shaving of the heads of the deceased man\u2019s\nrelatives. The hair is buried on the site of his house, which is taken\ndown unless he be buried in it. Two or three months later the mourners\nare shaved again, and the hair is buried at the grave or in the\nbush.[221.1] On the Gold Coast the ceremony of taking an oath bears a\ncertain resemblance to the Abruzzian practice above cited. This oath\nis administered by the fetish-priest. His _bossum_, or fetish,\nconsists usually of a wooden vessel or calabash filled with various\nobjects. When the person who takes the oath has made his statement and\nuttered the customary imprecation on himself if he violate his oath,\nhe goes thrice round the sacred vessel repeating the imprecation every\ntime. The priest then, taking a portion of the contents of the vessel,\nrubs with it the man\u2019s head, arms, abdomen and legs, turns it round\nthree times over his head, and cutting off a piece of nail from one of\nthe fingers and another piece from one of the toes of the oath-taker,\nand plucking a few hairs from his head, he throws them all into the\nvessel.[221.2] The Australian natives at a burial feast tear out parts\nof their beards, singe them and throw them on the corpse. Sioux\nmourners are described as cutting locks of their own hair and flinging\nthem upon the dead body;[221.3] and in various parts of America widows\nare required to shave or cut their hair.[221.4] Indeed, haircutting or\nshaving for the dead is found everywhere. The locks, it is true, are\nnot always thrown upon the corpse or upon the grave; but, as we shall\nhereafter see in connection with the practice of blood-shedding, {222}\nit is often considered enough simply to cut the hair or to shave. In\nsuch cases the rite must be looked upon as mutilated. The original\nintention is to bring the hair into contact with the dead. The true\nrite was exemplified at the death of Asclepios, when\n\n     \u201cRound the funeral pyre the populace\n Stood with fierce light on their black robes which bound\n Each sobbing head, while yet their hair they clipped\n O\u2019er the dead body of their withered prince.\u201d[222.1]\n\nIt was not, however, always possible or convenient to do this; and it\nhas consequently been dispensed with until the purpose has been\nforgotten.\n\nThese practices all explain themselves in the same way. The dedication\nof the hair at a temple, or the placing of it in the hand of a corpse,\nor on the grave, effects union with the divinity, or with the departed\nfriend. The tress is more than a symbol of devotion; it is more than a\ngage of fidelity. The owner of the head whence it has been taken, and\nthe holder of the severed lock are in actual, though invisible, union.\nThis accounts for the efficacy of the practice in healing disease:\nthis accounts for its value as a guard of fidelity to an oath. In the\nlast chapter we saw that not only hair but nail-parings, teeth and\nother things previously part of the patient, or in contact with him,\nwere plugged into trees, or hung from their branches, for the purpose\nof uniting him with a living healthy body, which was believed to react\nupon him. Much more powerful would be the action of an object regarded\nas the abode of a supernatural being, even if only a departed\nfriend,--or rather, {223} the action of the supernatural being\nhimself, thus linked through that object with his worshipper, patient\nor friend. Abruzzian girls put themselves in the hands of the saint\nwhen they hide their hairs in his sanctuary, and doubtless feel\nabundantly satisfied that he will perform the blessing or the ban they\ninvoke upon themselves in their rustic ritual. We had occasion in the\nlast chapter to consider the disposal of the hair when ceremonially\ncut off. It will be recollected that the _Grihya-S\u00fbtra_ of\nHiranyakesin directs the clippings of hair, beard and nails, made up\ninto a lump with bull\u2019s dung, to be buried in a cow-stable, or near an\nUdumbara-tree, or in a clump of Darbha-grass. It is true that the\nwords accompanying the act of burial were: \u201cThus I hide the sin of N.\nN.\u201d These words were probably not primitive, for the real intention of\nthe rite is revealed by the places prescribed for the burial. Had it\nbeen meant simply to hide the lump of dung and hair, any secret place\nwould have sufficed. But the cow-stable, the Udumbara-tree and the\nDarbha-grass were all sacred; and the object of placing these\nclippings of the person in, or adjacent to, them must have been that\nthe man from whom the clippings had been taken might be blessed by the\nhallowed influences which would surround those portions of himself,\nsevered indeed to outward appearance, but still subtly connected with\nhis frame. So also something more than a desire for safety leads the\nsponsors of the Japanese boy to deposit his forelock on the family\nshrine. And when the Omaha children received the tonsure, the\nfirst-fruits (if I may so call them) of their heads, wrapped in the\nsacred buffalo-hide, not merely secured the heads themselves from\nharm, but kept them in a perpetual environment of positive good. For\nthe same reason in Tahiti the {224} child\u2019s navel-string was buried in\nthe _marae_, or temple.[224.1] In Mecklenburgh and Thuringia the\nnavel-string, or a piece of it, is taken by the mother to her\nchurching and laid down behind the altar or elsewhere in the church.\nThis will keep the child continually surrounded with such holy\ninfluences that he will grow up god-fearing and pious. If, on the\nother hand, it be left in a shop, he will--at least in\nThuringia--become courteous and clever in business.[224.2]\n\nAgain. Athenian women who for the first time became pregnant used to\nhang up their girdles in the temple of Artemis. So the Spanish women\ntied their girdles or shoe-latchets about one of the church-bells, and\nstruck the bell thrice.[224.3] In the French department of\nC\u00f4tes-du-Nord, to cure a certain childish disease the infant\u2019s cap is\nplaced at the foot of the statue of St. M\u00e9en in the church of\nPlaine-Haute.[224.4] Among the French superstitions enumerated by\nThiers is that of passing a child afflicted with Saint Giles\u2019 sickness\nthrough his father\u2019s shirt, and carrying the shirt afterwards--not the\nchild--to Saint Giles\u2019 altar, as a means of cure.[224.5] European\nsettlers in Virginia and Pennsylvania measure a child for a disease\ncalled \u201cthe Go-backs\u201d with a yarn string; and having by this means\ndiagnosed the disease they hang the string on the hinge of a gate in\nthe premises of the infant\u2019s parents, believing that the disease will\ndie away with the decay of the string.[224.6] They have no local\nshrines.\n\n{225}\n\nThe converse case of measurement as a method of conveying the divine\neffluence was a favourite during the Middle Ages, and is still\npractised in Roman Catholic countries. It consisted in measuring with\na string or fillet the body of a saint, and passing the string\nafterwards round the patient. Many miracles performed in this way were\nattributed to Simon de Montfort. Pope Clement VIII. is said to have\ngiven his sanction to a similar measurement purporting to be the \u201ctrue\nand correct length of Our Lord Jesus Christ,\u201d found in the Holy\nSepulchre. Copies of this measurement were current in Germany up to a\ncomparatively late date.[225.1] By an application of the same\nreasoning it seems to have been believed up to the seventeenth century\nin this country that, to measure a living person with a rope which had\nbeen used in a prescribed manner to measure a corpse, was to inflict\nmisfortune and misery.[225.2] The object specially in view of the\nAthenian women was attained in Germany towards the end of the Middle\nAges by measuring a wick by Saint Sixtus\u2019 image, and wearing it as a\ngirdle.[225.3] In Japan it is enough to wear, inside the sash, a\ncoloured strip made in imitation of a temple-flag.[225.4] The\nunderlying thought in these cases is the same as that of the Breton\ngirdles of Notre Dame de D\u00e9livrance, mentioned in a previous chapter.\nAnd so far is the practice carried in China that a woman who wishes to\nbear children will borrow {226} on certain days in the year from the\ntemple of the goddess of children one of the votive shoes offered\nthere, and, taking it home, will pay it the same honours as to the\ngoddess herself; while another woman will take a flower from the hands\nof the sacred image, or from a vase beside it, and wear it in her\nhair.[226.1] Saint Francis\u2019 girdle and other \u201cblessed girdles\u201d were\nformerly worn in Europe for the purpose of facilitating delivery, and\nfor healing various diseases.[226.2] And still in Mexico the measure\nof the head of an image of Saint Francis at Magdalena is sovran for\nheadache, the measurement of his waist for diseases of the abdomen,\nand so on of other parts.[226.3]\n\nIn Poitou sick children are taken to the shrine of Saint Roch at\nSaint-R\u00e9my, to embrace the Saint\u2019s image. But because it is so\nhorribly ugly, many children turn away with cries of fright. The\nparents then content themselves with passing a handkerchief over the\nstatue, and afterwards wiping with it the child\u2019s face and\nhands.[226.4] Among the Basuto, travellers on entering a strange\ncountry seek to render the indigenous gods propitious to them by\nrubbing their foreheads with a little of the dust which they collect\non the road, or by making a girdle of the grass.[226.5] Newcomers to\nplaces lying on the river K\u00f6r\u00f6s, in Hungary, used to {227} be dipped\nin the water as a sort of baptism.[227.1] Many wells in Ireland are\ncalled by the name of Saint Patrick. In the seventeenth century it\nseems to have been a common belief among the Irish that a stranger who\ndrank at any of these wells would never after forsake the country, or\nif he left it he would be sure to return thither.[227.2] At Rome an\nold superstition, incidentally noticed in the last chapter, prescribes\nfor those who desire to return to the city to drink a little of the\nFountain of Trevi and to throw a small offering in the shape of a coin\ninto the basin. And with a little earth from the churchyard of\nApplecross, in Ross-shire, where Saint Maelrubha is buried, a man may\nfare the world round and safely come back to the neighbouring\nbay.[227.3] Among the North American tribes, figures of sacred animals\nand gods are drawn in coloured sand on the floor of the\nmedicine-lodge. The patient is rubbed with the dust composing the\nfigures. Applied to dying men, as a Roman Catholic Indian piously told\nCaptain Bourke, it corresponds to Extreme Unction.[227.4] Those who\ndoubt whether it be equally efficient may be recommended {228} to try\nboth. At any rate the parallel is instructive; for in all these cases\na substance which has been hallowed by contact with the divinity, or\nwith his shrine, brought afterwards into contact with the devotee and\npatient, sets up union between the worshipper and his god; a portion\nof the sacred earth or water in contact with the traveller or votary,\nor united with his person, unites him with the remainder in such a\nbond that he is infallibly brought back to it, or else he is endowed\nwith all the blessings that could be conferred by the touch of the\nentirety.\n\nOur examination of the practices of throwing pins into wells, of tying\nrags on bushes and trees, of driving nails into trees and stocks, of\nthrowing stones and sticks on cairns, and the analogous practices\nthroughout the world, leads to the conclusion that they are to be\ninterpreted as acts of ceremonial union with the spirit identified\nwith well, with tree, or stock, or cairn. In course of time, as the\nreal intention of the rite has been forgotten, it has been resorted to\n(in Christian countries at least) chiefly for the cure of diseases,\nand the meaning has been overlaid by the idea of the transfer of the\ndisease. This idea belongs to the same category as that of the union\nby means of the nail or the rag with divinity, but apparently to a\nsomewhat later stratum of thought. Since the spread of Christianity\nthe reason for the sacredness of many trees or wells has passed from\nmemory; and it has consequently been natural to substitute any tree or\nany well for a particular one. The substitution has favoured the idea\nof transfer of disease, which has thus become the ordinary intention\nof the rite in later times.[228.1]\n\n{229}\n\nBut I cannot close this inquiry without referring to one or two other\nceremonies not quite so easily deciphered. The first is reported by a\nGerman writer whose authority for the statement I have been unable to\ntrace. He says it is the custom in Wales for a bride and bridegroom to\ngo and lie down beside a well or fountain and throw in pins as a\npledge of the new relation into which they have entered. And he adds\nthat in clearing out an old Roman well in the Isle of Wight, about the\nyear 1840, some bushels of ancient British pins for the clothes were\nfound.[229.1] Whether or not the British pins are to be connected with\nthe alleged custom in Wales, it is difficult to account for a\ncollection of pins in such a situation except upon the supposition\nthat they were purposely thrown into the well. As in the case of the\npins found in the Meuse and the Sambre, however, we can only guess at\nthe reason that brought them there. If the alleged Welsh rite be\ncorrectly described, no prayer is offered. Could we find an early\nshape of it, we should probably recognise a solemn consecration of the\none spouse to the domestic divinity of the other--a ritual reception\ninto the kin. The analogy with the marriage custom of the Montb\u00e9liard\nProtestants is obvious. An instance in which the same analogy lies\neven more on the surface is a ceremony in use among the Mohammedan\ntribes of Daghestan. Imperfectly civilised, they are still organised\nin _gentes_, each of which derives its origin from a mythical\nancestor. But it is possible for a man to break with his _gens_, if he\ndesire to do so. The desire must be expressed solemnly and publicly at\na meeting in the mosque; and {230} he must announce that every tie is\nbroken between himself and his _touchoum_, or clan. By way of memorial\na nail is then driven into one of the walls of the mosque.[230.1] It\nseems to be unnecessary now to enter another clan in place of the one\nrenounced; and the words employed express no more than the _detestatio\nsacrorum_, or renunciation. But, as we shall see in the next chapter,\nthis could only have been half the original ceremony. It must once\nhave been followed by admission into another kin, for no one would be\ncontent to be a kinless man. The ceremony now takes place in a mosque.\nBefore the conversion to Islam it must have taken place in the hut or\ntemple where the totem or ancestor-god of the new kin was worshipped.\nAnd the driving of the nail into the wall of the mosque may be\nimagined to be the only remaining relic of the rite of admission into\nthe new _gens_ and of initiation into its cult. If this be so, it\nprobably expressed and effected the neophyte\u2019s union with the divinity\ninto whose kin and worship he was entering.\n\nAssuming this conjecture to be correct, we may go a step further. To\nanticipate again what I shall have to explain more fully hereafter,\nthe union with the totem-god would have to be renewed at intervals.\nSome such intention perhaps governed the rite at Reggio Emilia, in\nItaly, which is now called \u201cburying the old year.\u201d At midnight of the\nlast day of the year the head of the household goes into the courtyard\nof his house and thrusts into the ground a stake.[230.2] Turning back\nto Wales, at Gumfreston, in Pembrokeshire, there is a holy well to\nwhich the villagers {231} used to repair on Easter Day, when each of\nthem would throw a crooked pin into the water. This was called\n\u201cthrowing Lent away.\u201d[231.1] On the same day at Bradwell, in\nDerbyshire, it was the practice for children to drop pins into the\nvarious wells in the town. A fairy was said to preside over each well,\nand to know whether a child had deposited a pin in her well, or not.\nOn Easter Monday every child carried a bottle of sweetmeats all day\nlong; and if a bottle were broken, it was because the child had\nforgotten to drop a pin into one of the wells, \u201cthe fairy of the well\nbeing the protector of the bottle.\u201d[231.2] I need hardly pause on the\nproof, which the comparison of these rites affords, of the absolute\nritual equivalence of throwing pins into a holy well and driving a\nstake, or a nail, into the ground, or into a wall. Nor--even apart\nfrom the evidence of the custom at Bradwell, which is obviously much\ndegraded--can it be necessary to insist on the improbability that\nanything would be thrown into a holy well with the idea of simply\ngetting rid of it. The pins must have been intended, as elsewhere, to\nunite the thrower with the god. And the custom may accordingly be\nsupposed to be a periodical renewal of union with the divinity,\nremoved under Christian influences from the day of the pagan festival\n(perhaps May-day) to the nearest great feast-day of the Church. In the\nsame way the Italian peasant in planting a stake in his\ncourtyard--doubtless in the centre of his dwelling--would be renewing\nhis union with his household god, and emphatically asserting once more\nhis ownership of the house and his headship of the household.\n\n\n\n\n CHAPTER XII.\n TOTEMISM--THE BLOOD COVENANT--CUSTOMS CONNECTED WITH SALIVA.\n\n{232}\n\nThus far, in pursuing our investigations into the significance of\nthe Life-token, we have arrived at the conclusion that the reason of\nthe mysterious sympathy between the hero and an object external to\nhimself is not merely that, actually or by imputation, the Life-token\nhas been part of his substance, but further that, notwithstanding\nseverance, it is still in unapparent but real connection with him, and\nconsequently any mischance he may suffer will be felt by the\nLife-token and reflected in its condition. The converse is also true.\nAny portion, actual or imputed, of the hero\u2019s substance, detached from\nhim in appearance, continues in effect so united to him that injury to\nit will redound to his injury and perhaps to his death. The Life-token\nand the External Soul are thus equivalent; and they are equivalent not\nmerely in story, but also, and first of all, in human customs and\nbelief.\n\nMoreover, the possibility of evil implies the contrary possibility of\ngood being received by a man through severed pieces of himself. This\nbelief has led to the practices we have considered in our last two\nchapters. Whether for the healing of a specific disease, or for the\nmore general {233} purpose of promoting his wellbeing, anything which\nhas once been his, as a scrap of his body, his excrements or his\nclothing, or which has simply been in contact, though only for a\nmoment, with him, is subjected to influences held to be beneficial,\nwith the expectation that they will in this way act upon him. The\nbelief and the practices it has engendered have thus to our eyes a\ndouble aspect, physical and spiritual. But we must not forget that\neverywhere in the earliest times, and among the lowest races even\nyet--nay, the limitation need not be by any means so strict--among\npeoples in all but the highest state of civilisation, no substantive\ndistinction is drawn between the physical and the spiritual. The\nabstract entity we call a soul has no existence for them: it is a\nphilosophical speculation, whereof they have no conception. The soul,\nto them, is but another body which quits at times in life this visible\nframe, as a man quits his dwelling, on errands of business or\npleasure, and forsakes it finally at death, as a corpse is carried out\nof doors. It is but a fragment of the man. It may take a fresh form,\nbecome a new whole, new but the same; for it will differ only in form,\nif indeed it will differ so much as in form. And the conception of\ndivinity current in the lower culture corresponds with that of the\nsoul. The god is precisely \u201ca magnified, non-natural man,\u201d though not\nalways in human shape, corporeal and subject to all corporeal wants\nand infirmities, but endowed with potencies and privileges far beyond\nthose of ordinary men: potencies and privileges, however, the like of\nwhich are attained sometimes with much fasting and striving and\npatience by the greatest shamans. This corporeal nature of the god\nenables man to enter into communion with him, to put and keep himself\nin touch with him, to become {234} united with him. In the last\nchapter we considered some methods whereby this may be done. Some\nother methods remain to be mentioned; but it will be needless to\ndiscuss them at length, because they have not long ago been made the\nsubject of a brilliant exposition by the late Professor Robertson\nSmith, to which little or nothing can be added.\n\nWhat seems, however, desirable for the purpose of completing our view\nof the Life-token and the ideas connected with it, is to turn our\nattention to some points in the social organisation of savage races,\nand their survivals in societies, like our own, which have long been\norganised on principles of a wholly different character. To these\npoints the next four chapters will be devoted. But the organisation of\narchaic communities is bound up with their tribal worship. It is\naccordingly necessary to have distinctly before our minds the relation\nof the tribe to its god, and some at least of the usages expressive of\nthat relation. I shall therefore begin by summarising the results of\nProfessor Robertson Smith\u2019s examination of Semitic institutions, as\nfar as they are relevant to our present inquiry, contributing only a\nfew further illustrations drawn from the usages of nations outside the\nSemitic sphere.\n\nAt a certain period in the evolution of human institutions men are\norganised in kindreds, called clans or _gentes_, deriving descent and\nreckoning kinship exclusively through the mother. As a matter of fact,\nhardly anywhere throughout the world is this organisation found in an\nabsolutely unadulterated condition; for it seems to have constantly\ntended to pass over into an organisation where the kinship was\nreckoned exclusively through the father. But in almost all parts of\nthe world many existing institutions, and institutions described, or\nincidentally mentioned, by {235} writers ancient and modern, can only\nbe accounted for by postulating the former existence of a system of\nkinship reckoned exclusively through females. The kindred or clan thus\nformed believes itself to be descended from a _totem_, or ancestor to\nwhom honours are paid of a kind for which we have no other word than\n_divine_--a word, however, implying a more exalted conception than any\nto which the clan has yet attained. The totem is not in human shape.\nVery generally it is an animal, sometimes a tree or other vegetable,\noccasionally an inanimate object, such as the sun, the earth, wind,\nsalt, or even the rain or thunder. For the savage believes in\nmetamorphosis. We have already investigated at some length this\nbelief, in so far as it relates to changes effected by death and\nbirth. But it is by no means confined to these. Broadly speaking,\nevery object in the universe is regarded as alive; and every object is\ncapable of changing its shape without losing its identity. Death is\nmerely one way of doing so. To the savage, therefore, there is no\ndifficulty in believing that his ancestor is a turtle or a pine-tree,\nfor he knows no distinction between animal and vegetable, between\ngenus and genus. Nay, he will even hold with as little difficulty that\nthe same ancestor is both a turtle and a pine-tree, and will worship\nhim now under the one, and now under the other, form.\n\nThe clan bears a representation of the totem as its symbol or crest;\nis usually called after its name; and the individual members dress and\nadorn themselves to resemble it in their persons. It is forbidden to\nkill, injure or treat with disrespect any animal or vegetable of the\nspecies to which the totem belongs, for they are all akin. But, at\nleast when an animal, it is customary at stated times to {236} slay\nand eat it in solemn festival wherein all the kin join.\n\nThe home of the clan is the home of its god; and wherever a society\nhas passed beyond the nomadic stage it will be found to have a\ndefinite place consecrated to social reunion and worship. There the\ntotem-god is represented by an idol of some kind--ordinarily, in an\narchaic stage of civilisation, by a post or a rough stone. This is his\ndwelling-place, or the embodiment he chooses for the convenience of\nhis worshippers,--the god himself. Later, it becomes by degrees a\nsimulacrum, a piece of sculpture, until, in the most elevated form to\nwhich paganism has attained, we arrive at masterpieces like those of\nPhidias.\n\nThe stone god is also at first the altar. There the totem-beast is\nslain, some of its blood is dashed upon the stone, and around it the\nrest of the blood is drunk and the flesh is eaten by the clansmen.\nThis is probably the primitive form of sacrifice. It is not a gift to\nthe god, but a sacrament in which the whole kin--the god with his\nclansmen--unites. In partaking of it each member of the kin testifies\nand renews his union with the rest. The god himself is eaten, and yet\nhe is at the same time embodied in the sacred stone. Archaic thought\nsees no contradiction in this. Our inquiries into the Life-token have\nalready shown that a man is separable into portions. The savage\nconception of life permits of its division without destroying its\nexistence or its essential unity. Not only, therefore, is the totem\nhimself divisible: the kin, including the totem-god in every one of\nhis forms, is regarded as one entire life, one body, whereof each unit\nis literally a member, a limb. The same blood runs through them all;\nand elsewhere, as among the Hebrews, \u201cthe blood is the life.\u201d\nLiterally {237} they may not be all descended from a common ancestry.\nDescent is the normal, the typical, cause of kinship and a common\nblood. It is the legal presupposition, a presumption not to be\nrebutted. But kinship may also be acquired; and when it is once\nacquired by a stranger he ranks thenceforth for all purposes as one\ndescended from the common ancestor. In a state of society organised on\nthe lines of kinship this is an important matter. A man who is not of\nthe kin is a stranger; and a stranger is a foe. The kinless man has no\nrights, no protection: he is an outlaw. His hand is against every\nman\u2019s, and every man\u2019s hand against him. To acquire kinship, the blood\nof the candidate for admission into the kin must be mingled with that\nof the kin. In this way he enters into the brotherhood, is reckoned as\nof the same stock, obtains the full privileges of a kinsman.\n\nThe mingling of blood--the Blood-covenant as it is called--is a simple\nthough repulsive ceremony. It is sufficient that an incision be made\nin the neophyte\u2019s arm and the flowing blood sucked from it by one of\nthe clansmen, upon whom the operation is repeated in turn by the\nneophyte. Originally, perhaps, the clansmen all assembled and partook\nof the rite; but if so, the necessity has ceased to be recognised\nalmost everywhere. The form, indeed, has undergone numberless\nvariations. Sometimes the blood is dropped into a cup and diluted with\nwater or wine. Sometimes food eaten together is impregnated with the\nblood. Sometimes it is enough to rub the bleeding wounds together, so\nthat the blood of both parties is mixed and smeared upon them both.\nAmong the Kayans of Borneo the drops are allowed to fall upon a\ncigarette, which is then lighted and smoked alternately by both\nparties. But, {238} whatever may be the exact form adopted, the\nessence of the rite is the same, and its range is world-wide. It is\nmentioned by classical writers as practised by the Arabs, the\nScythians, the Lydians and Iberians of Asia Minor, and apparently the\nMedes. Many passages of the Bible, many of the Egyptian _Book of the\nDead_, are inexplicable apart from it. Ancient Arab historians are\nfull of allusions to it. Odin and Loki entered into the bond, which\nmeans for us that it was customary among the Norsemen--as we know, in\nfact, from other sources. It is recorded by Giraldus of the Irish of\nhis day. It is described in the _Gesta Romanorum_. It is related of\nthe Huns or Magyars, and of the medi\u00e6val Roumanians. Joinville\nascribes it to one of the tribes of the Caucasus; and the Rabbi\nPetachia of Ratisbon, who travelled in Ukrainia in the twelfth\ncentury, found it there. In modern times every African traveller\nmentions it; and most of them have had to undergo the ceremony. In the\nneighbouring island of Madagascar, it is well known. All over the\nEastern Archipelago, in Australia, in the Malay peninsula, among the\nKarens, the Siamese, the Dards on the northern border of our Indian\nempire, and many of the aboriginal tribes of Bengal, the wild tribes\nof China, the Syrians of Lebanon and the Bedouins, and among the\nautochthonous peoples of North and South America, the rite is, or has\nbeen quite recently, in use. Nor has it ceased to be practised in\nEurope by the Gipsies, the Southern Slavs and the Italians of the\nAbruzzi. The band of the Mala Vita in Southern Italy, only broken up\na year or two ago, was a blood-brotherhood formed in this way. Most\nsavage peoples require their youths at the age of puberty to submit to\na ceremony which admits them into the brotherhood of the grown men,\nand into all the rights {239} and privileges of the tribe. Of this\nceremony the blood-covenant is usually an essential part, as it is\nalso, either actually, or by symbol which represents an act once\nliterally performed, in the initiation-rite not only of the Mala Vita,\nbut of almost all secret societies, both civilised and uncivilised. In\nthe French department of Aube, when a child bleeds, he puts a little\nof his blood on the face or hands of one of his playfellows, and says\nto him: \u201cThou shalt be my cousin.\u201d In like manner in New England, when\na school-girl, not many years since, pricked her finger so that the\nblood came, one of her companions would say: \u201cOh, let me suck the\nblood; then we shall be friends.\u201d[239.1]\n\nThat the blood-covenant, whereby blood-brotherhood is assumed, is not\na prim\u00e6val rite, is obvious from its artificial character. It has its\nbasis in ideas which must have been pre-existent, and which I have\nendeavoured to make clear in this and the foregoing chapters. At the\nsame time its barbarism, and the wide area over which it is spread,\npoint with equal certainty to its early evolution, and to the fact\nthat it is in unison with conceptions essentially and universally\nhuman. Even among races like the Polynesians and the Turanian\ninhabitants of Northern Europe and Asia, where the rite itself may not\nbe recorded, there {240} are, as we shall hereafter see, unmistakable\ntraces of its influence on their customs.\n\nAs Society evolved, the clan-system gradually broke up over large\ntracts of the earth\u2019s surface. In the same measure as the clan relaxed\nits hold upon the individual members, blood-brotherhood assumed a\npersonal aspect, until, having no longer any social force, it came to\nbe regarded as merely the most solemn and binding form of covenant\nbetween man and man. For that purpose the gods of one or both were\nfrequently made party to the contract, and the blood of the\ncovenanters was smeared upon the idols as well as upon one another.\nThe deities thus continued to watch over a rite in which they had\noriginally taken part as members of a clan. For as the bonds of\nkinship were loosened the totem developed into a god; and even so the\ntotem\u2019s interest in the rite as a member of a clan developed into that\nof a god as witness and avenger of the covenant. But though the\nsignificance of the rite changed, its evolution was continuous.\nReligion, like other forms of human thought and other human\ninstitutions, has been a slow and constant growth. If the whole field\nbe surveyed, it will be found that there are no yawning chasms\ndividing period from period, and cult from cult. Everything evolves by\nprocesses analogous to those with which we are familiar in the\nphysical world. The totem, released from the bonds of kinship, and\nsoaring upward to the heaven of Godhead, ceases not to be worshipped\nwith rites appropriate only to the social reunions of the clan. True,\nthese rites are gradually modified; but alike by their symbolism and\nby their barbarity they bear unfailing testimony to their real birth.\nSuch was the Hebrew practice of sprinkling the blood of the sacrifice\nbefore the Lord, or {241} upon the mercy-seat, daubing it upon the\nhorns of the altar, or pouring it out at the base, and the converse\npractice of sprinkling it upon the congregation, or putting it upon\nthe priest at his consecration. Among other nations the practice was\ngrosser still.\n\n \u201cMoloch, horrid king, besmear\u2019d with blood\n Of human sacrifice,\u201d\n\nby no means stood alone. The priest in Guatemala drew blood from his\ntongue and other members, and anointed with it the feet and hands of\nthe image. And a similar custom is described by Spanish writers as\nfollowed in both North and South America.[241.1] When Rome was at the\nheight of her civilisation Tibullus described the high priestess of\nBellona as lacerating her own arm with the sacrificial axe and\nbespattering the goddess with her blood, and then as she stood there\ninspired by the goddess with her oracle.[241.2] This doubtless is the\nmeaning of the passage relating the antics of the priests of Baal in\nthe contest with Elijah, when they leaped about the altar, crying\naloud, and cut themselves with knives and lances until the blood\ngushed out upon them. Their object was not to maim or torture\nthemselves, but to renew their union with the god, {242} by shedding\ntheir blood upon him. In course of time the rite would cease to be\nunderstood, its practice would change, and then the mere torture, or\nthe outpouring of the blood without any care to bring it into contact\nwith the god, would be regarded as its object. This was perhaps the\nstage at which Baal-worship had arrived in the time of Ahab. In the\nHebrew ritual it was the blood of the sacrifice and not of the\nworshipper which was sprinkled, and so also in many other instances.\nBut then the victim was identified with the worshipper, or the latter\nalso partook of it by being himself sprinkled with the blood or eating\nits flesh. The Scandinavian custom, for example, as delineated in the\n_Heimskringla_ required that the blood should be drained into bowls,\nand then with a rod or sprinkler \u201cshould the stall of the gods be\nreddened, and the walls of the temple within and without, and the\nmen-folk also besprinkled; but the flesh was to be sodden for the\nfeasting of men.\u201d[242.1] In either case the worshipper was brought\ninto union with the god. Elsewhere the same object is effected by the\nsubstitution of some other substance for blood. Among the ceremonies\nof purification imposed by certain of the non-Aryan tribes of Bengal\nupon women after childbirth, is that of smearing with vermilion the\nedge of the village well.[242.2] Vermilion is a very obvious symbol of\nblood; and we shall hereafter see that, by these tribes and others, it\nis its recognised substitute. Originally the well must have been\nsmeared with blood, and that {243} blood drawn from the offerer\u2019s\nveins. By the ceremonial union thus effected with the deity who dwells\nin, or is identified with, the well, the woman would be purified.\n\nThe modes of thought portrayed in the ritual of sacrifice are entirely\nanalogous to those disclosed by the practices we discussed in the last\nchapter. Their great aim is union with the deity. It is attained by\nplacing in contact with him something already part of ourselves, as\nour blood, hair, clothing, or other property; or else the blood of a\nvictim of which we are about to consume the remainder, just as among\nmedical practices we found that of giving part of the patient\u2019s food\nto an animal before partaking of the rest, with the object of being\nunited with a healthy body. It may, indeed, be, if we were to trace\nback the superstition in these medical cases, that the animal made use\nof was at first a totem-beast. To investigate this, however, would\nrequire much greater space than I have at command.\n\nI have on an earlier page alluded to the compacts alleged to be made\nwith the Devil by a writing signed with the blood of the person who\nenters into the contract. With this may be compared a practice said to\nbe sometimes followed on the Riviera, where two lovers write to one\nanother in their own blood in sign of fidelity.[243.1] A Breton\nfolktale represents the Devil as aiding the hero on condition of his\ngiving him a drop of his blood or a lock of his hair.[243.2] According\nto an Icelandic saga, witches enter into a still closer relation with\nthe Father of Evil by {244} giving him of their blood to drink,[244.1]\nthus constituting him their blood-brother; and the same belief seems\nto be current among the Gipsies of the Danube valley, the Poles and\nEsthonians.[244.2] To drink a witch\u2019s blood was also a means of\ndestroying her witchcraft, and doubtless for the same reason: it\nunited her with her victim. Mannhardt quotes a case in Germany where,\nno longer since than the year 1868, two ignorant men were sent to\nprison for three months for assaulting a young woman whom they\nbelieved to have bewitched a friend, drawing blood and compelling her\nto drop it into his mouth.[244.3] But in general it is considered\nquite sufficient simply to draw blood from her. According to the\nScottish prescription she should be \u201cscored aboon her breath\u201d--that\nis, in the upper part of her face.[244.4] The superstition, of course,\nhas long been in decay. Merely to draw blood does not of itself\nconstitute blood-relationship; but the barbarous rite of the\nblood-covenant having practically died out of north-western Europe,\nthe real reason of drawing blood has been forgotten. A similar\nprotection is invoked by Gipsy thieves in Servia. They make a certain\npowder with which they mix drops of their own blood and put it into\nthe food of any one they suspect knows of their crime. In this way the\nthief believes that he not merely prevents the person {245} who\nconsumes the mixture from betraying him, but on the other hand causes\nhim henceforth to cherish a friendly feeling towards him.[245.1]\n\nMore difficult of interpretation is a horrible usage of the Hurons of\nNorth America. Unless they are belied, while torturing a prisoner to\ndeath, they would sometimes open the aorta and mingle the blood that\ngushed from it with some of their own, in the hope of being at all\ntimes apprised of an enemy\u2019s approach, and so assuring safety against\na sudden attack.[245.2] Let us compare it, however, with a few cases\nof cannibalism. The Botocudos devoured their fallen enemies, in the\nbelief that they would thus be protected from the revenge of the dead\nand would be rendered invulnerable by the arrows of the hostile\ntribe.[245.3] The inhabitants of New Britain, notorious cannibals, eat\ntheir enemies, and fix the arm- and leg-bones of the men at the\nbutt-end of their spears, thinking thus not only to acquire the\nstrength of the deceased owner of the bone, but also to become\ninvulnerable by his relatives.[245.4] When the Tchuktchis murder a man\nthey eat a piece of his heart or liver, in order to make his kindred\nsick.[245.5] The Eskimo of Greenland do the like, because then the\nrelations of the murdered man will lack the courage to revenge his\ndeath.[245.6] Even in the south of Italy it is still believed that a\nmurderer will not be able to escape unless he taste, or beslubber\nhimself with, his victim\u2019s blood:[245.7] a superstition {246} which,\nin these days, has sometimes the contrary effect of leading to his\ndiscovery. By means of these examples we may perhaps conjecture the\norigin of the widely prevalent custom of eating the dead body of an\nenemy. Little doubt can at all events remain that the savage Hurons\nintended so to unite themselves with their captive that they would be\nsecured from the blood-revenge of his kindred, and that it was against\nthe kindred and them only that the precaution was adopted. And if this\nresult could be attained by commingling the blood in a manner similar\nto that of the blood-covenant, it could also be achieved by eating a\nportion of the foe. Closely connected with cannibalism of the kind I\nam referring to is the custom of _alumbi_ practised by several tribes\nin Equatorial West Africa. It consists in serving in food to a guest\npowder scraped from the skull of a deceased ancestor. \u201cThe idea is,\nthat by consuming the scrapings of the skull, the blood of their\nancestors enters into your body, and thus, becoming of one blood, you\nare naturally led to love them and grant them what they wish.\u201d[246.1]\nIn other words, a blood-covenant is entered into unwittingly by the\nguest with his host; and it need hardly be said that the trick is only\nplayed on those guests whose hearts a greedy host considers it is\nworth his while to soften.\n\nNaturally superstition extended the blood-covenant by analogy to the\nlower animals, both in their relations with one another and with man,\nand utilised it for human profit. Servian Gipsy thieves draw blood\nfrom the left shoulder of a stolen beast, dry it to powder and mix the\npowder with the fodder of other beasts which they intend to steal, so\nas to be able to capture them without hindrance.[246.2] An {247}\nIcelandic story is told of a fairy who used to send her kine to graze\nwith those of a peasant-farmer. One day the farmer found a fairy cow\nin his stable. He cut its ear until it bled, and so appropriated the\nanimal, to the fairy\u2019s great annoyance.[247.1] The story is incomplete\nin not telling us what was done with the blood. It is clear, however,\nthat a bond of blood was created which, in the stage of civilisation\nwherein the story arose, meant, as between man and one of the lower\nanimals, ownership. From the Arctic circle to the southern Sporades\nmay seem a far cry; yet it is from the island of Calymnos that we are\nable to supply the missing detail. One day in the spring of last year\n(1894) Mr. W. R. Paton saw a little girl, the daughter of a shepherd,\nwith her face besmeared with blood. Her mother told him, by way of\nexplanation, that the father had been marking the kids in his\ndaughter\u2019s name. Further inquiry showed that it was the custom to mark\nthese animals by cutting their ears, every shepherd having his own\ndistinctive mark, that they were marked in the name of one or other\nchild of the family, and that some of the blood was smeared on the\nface of the child in whose name they were marked.[247.2] A better\nillustration could hardly be found of the manner in which the customs\nof one country will throw light upon the customs and traditions of\nanother. Distance in space counts for naught where we are dealing with\nsimilar conditions of culture.\n\nThis sketch of totemism, including the means of union and communion\nbetween the clan and its totem on the one hand, and between the\nindividual members of the clan on the other hand, is hasty and\nimperfect. Yet I hope it may {248} prove sufficient for our purpose,\nthe more so as the writings of Professor Robertson Smith and Mr.\nFrazer, who have studied the subject with great detail, are happily\neasy of access. Without, therefore, dwelling longer upon it we may\nturn to glance at some of the modifications undergone by the ceremony\nof the blood-covenant. A rite so barbarous would not maintain itself\nunimpaired as culture advanced. Other rites are softened in course of\ntime; a part is taken for the whole, or a sham for the real thing; and\nthis is no exception. I have referred to some of the forms it has\nassumed, but only to such as bear to the most casual observer the mark\nand witness of the original whence they are derived. There remain to\nbe briefly considered some of the remoter variations.\n\nThe sacramental essence of the rite has escaped many modern\ntravellers. Yet it might have been thought obvious enough. It is,\nperhaps, most clearly brought out where the blood is mingled with the\nfood of the participants. It has been well insisted on, and its\nconnection with the totem-sacrifice exhibited at length, by Professor\nRobertson Smith. Nor, after what has been said about it in the\nforegoing pages, and after the analogous superstitions discussed in\npreceding chapters, is it necessary to dwell on the point here. But it\ncan excite no surprise that the rite should have degenerated into a\nsolemn meal eaten together by the persons entering into the new bond.\nIn early times no one would have a right to eat together save the\nbrethren of a clan; and on the other hand, all who ate together would,\npresumably at least, be members of the same clan. Hospitality--the\nrelation of host and guest--would form the only exception; and\nhospitality, as practised in savage and barbarous communities, may be\ndescribed as a temporary reception into the kin or family. {249} But\nnone save brethren habitually shared the common meal. To eat together,\ntherefore, would of itself be a sign, though not an infallible sign,\nof kinship. Eating together is--not merely on solemn occasions, as the\nsacrifice of the totem-beast, but in a lesser degree at other\ntimes--an act of communion. The sharing of a common substance as food\nunites those who partake of it in a common life: it makes them parts\nof one another: they incorporate one another\u2019s substance. This is the\nsignificance of eating \u201cthings sacrificed to idols,\u201d and of \u201csitting\nat meat in an idol\u2019s temple.\u201d The idol is supposed to have partaken of\nthe meat; and those who afterwards eat of it share by that act the\nidol\u2019s life; they partake of his substance. This is the significance\nof the offering of first-fruits; the bulk is holy and fit for the\nworshippers\u2019 food, because a portion, and through that portion the\nwhole, is first united with the god. What is true of special feasts,\nand of communion with the god, holds good of everyday meals, and of\ncommunion by the clansmen with one another. To admit a stranger into\nthe clan, then, it will be enough that he be allowed to partake of the\ncommon meal. If the admission be simply for a temporary purpose as a\nguest, it will take place without any extraordinary formalities. If a\npermanent union be contemplated, then ceremonies must be performed\nindicative of the intention, and uniting the parties in the\nunmistakable bond of a common life.\n\nOne or two examples will suffice. The aboriginal tribes of Bengal have\nnow in many instances undergone a transformation, under the influence\nof the dominant Aryan religion and organisation, from tribal\norganisation and status into that of castes. The Mahilis, \u201ca Dravidian\ncaste of labourers, palanquin-bearers and workers in bamboo, {250}\nfound in Chota Nagpur and Western Bengal,\u201d readily admit \u201cmen of any\ncaste ranking higher than their own.\u201d The person seeking admission\n\u201chas merely to pay a small sum to the headman of the caste and to give\na feast to the Mahilis of the neighbourhood. This feast he must attend\nhimself and signify his entrance into the brotherhood by tasting a\nportion of the food left by each of the guests on the leaf which on\nthese occasions serves as a plate.\u201d[250.1] The M\u00e1ls of Western and\nCentral Bengal, another tribe which has become converted into a caste,\nwhile still retaining many distinctly tribal practices, also admit\noutsiders. The fashion among them is for the neophyte to give a feast\nto the M\u00e1ls of the neighbourhood, and to drink water wherein the\nheadman of the village has dipped his toes.[250.2] The Mysteries of\nGreece and Western Asia were celebrated with the sacrifice and\nconsumption of the divine animal; and the persons who joined in the\nceremony entered into a brotherhood which, though in the latter times\nof classic heathendom regarded as spiritual rather than literal, must\nhave derived its significance from a more archaic state of society,\nwhen to partake of the totem-animal was to consummate the most sacred\nrite of kinship. Among the Battas of Sumatra alliances are concluded\nby the slaughter of a hog or cow. As soon as its throat is cut the\nheart is torn out and divided into as many pieces as there are chiefs\npresent. The share of each is put on a pointed stick and roasted by\nholding it over the fire. In turn the chiefs then hold up their\nrespective morsels, saying: \u201cIf I should ever violate my oath, I am\nwilling to be slaughtered like the bleeding animal which lies before\nme, and to be {251} devoured like the piece of heart I am about to\neat.\u201d[251.1] This oath, which is reported to be more than a mere form,\npoints back to an earlier period before the cow or the hog was\nsubstituted for a man. In classical antiquity a blood-rite of this\nkind is many times mentioned which not improbably may represent an\nearly form of the blood-covenant. In the oath said to have been\nadministered by Catiline to his fellow-conspirators, a slave was put\nto death, and every one drank out of the same cup his blood mingled\nwith wine. The oath they swore was deemed irrevocable: it united them\nlike the brethren of one blood to support one another in life and\navenge one another\u2019s death. The same is doubtless the meaning of the\nact recorded by Herodotus of the Greek and Carian allies of\nPsammenitus, when one of their number, Phanes of Halicarnassus,\ndeserted to Cambyses, the Persian invader of Egypt. They put to death\nhis sons in Phanes\u2019 sight, drained their blood into a vase, which they\nfilled up with wine and water, and, having drunk it together, they\nrushed madly but vainly on the foe.[251.2] And Diodorus Siculus\nrelates of Apollodorus, who aspired in the third century before Christ\nto the government of the city of Cassandrea in Macedonia, that he slew\na youth to the gods, gave his fellow-conspirators the entrails to eat\nand the blood mingled with wine to drink.[251.3] A relic of some such\nceremony is found in India. Among the Sar\u00e1ogi Baniy\u00e1s, who are\nreckoned of the S\u00fadra caste, on the occasion of a marriage the\nrelatives only of the parties meet in a private apartment around the\nfigure of a Brahman, made in dough and filled with honey. The\nbridegroom\u2019s father, \u201carmed with a miniature bow and arrows, topples\nover the effigy, {252} which is then disembowelled, so to speak, of\nits honey, into which all present dip a finger and suck it.\u201d[252.1] In\nthe New World the bloodthirsty Aztecs ate their human sacrifices. The\nYncas, a little more human, offered and ate animals, called by De\nMolina sheep. Their sacrament consisted of a pudding of\ncoarsely-ground maize, of which a portion had been smeared on the\nidol. The priest sprinkled it with the blood of the victim, before\ndistributing it to the people.[252.2] A curious rite is reported as\ntaking place among the Isubus, in the west of Africa, when entering\ninto a covenant to do some murderous or warlike deed. A pot is placed\nupon the fire, and in the pot a stone, supposed to become by cooking\nas soft as a plantain. It is then cut with a knife, and each of the\ncovenanting parties must swallow a piece, binding himself thereby to\ndo or abet the deed proposed.[252.3] A Danubian Gipsy saga relates the\nmode of admission into a tribe. The chief eats with the candidate a\npiece of salted bread, and gives him brandy in a glass. When the\nbrandy is drunk the glass is smashed.[252.4] Drinking, indeed, often\nbecomes the substitute for eating. Among the aborigines of Formosa the\nmanner of taking an oath of friendship is by putting their arms round\none another\u2019s necks and drinking simultaneously from the same cup of\nwine.[252.5] Among the Slavs the blood-covenant is still practised;\nand the Church has taken it under her own protection. In her hands it\nhas become transformed into the ritual drinking of wine together. Thus\nin Crnagora the comrades who are {253} about to enter into the bond of\nbrotherhood attend the church, where the priest awaits them. He hands\nthem the chalice, out of which they thrice drink wine together. They\nkiss the cross, the gospels and the sacred images, and finally kiss\none another thrice upon the cheek. Afterwards the one on whose\nsuggestion the league is formed, gives a dinner to the brother of his\nchoice and adds to it some more valuable gift.[253.1]\n\nBut we have seen that an entirely different modification of the rite\nearly took place. The actual drinking of the blood was dropped in\nfavour of mixing it by inoculation,[253.2] or outwardly upon the\nbleeding flesh. Among the Norsemen in later times the blood was drawn\nfrom each party and simply allowed to flow together in their\nfootprints.[253.3] Herodotus describes the covenant among the Arabs on\nthe borders of Egypt. Blood was drawn with a sharp stone from the\nthumb of either party. With a shred of each person\u2019s robe it was then\nsmeared upon seven sacred stones, with an invocation to the divinities\nOrotal and Alilat, whom the historian identifies with Dionysos and\nUrania.[253.4] Professor Robertson Smith commenting on the passage\nobserves that the smearing on the stones \u201cmakes the gods parties to\nthe covenant, but evidently the {254} symbolical act is not complete\nunless at the same time the human parties taste each other\u2019s blood.\u201d\nAnd he surmises that \u201cthis was actually done, though Herodotus does\nnot say so. But,\u201d he admits, \u201cit is also possible that in the course\nof time the ritual had been so far modified that it was deemed\nsufficient that the two bloods should meet on the sacred\nstone.\u201d[254.1] I cannot help thinking that what we have learnt in the\ncourse of our previous inquiries may help us to the solution of the\ndifficulty. When Abruzzian girls hide their hairs in some secret place\nof the sanctuary on vowing eternal friendship, they seem at first\nsight to be performing an act parallel to that recorded of the Arabs;\nand if so we need not suspect that Herodotus has omitted any feature\nof the rite. Probably, however, the true explanation does not lie\nhere. We may suppose that the shreds torn by the master of the\nceremonies from either garment were roughly tied or twisted together\ninto a wisp, which was then dipped into the flowing blood of both\npersons, and the blood thus mingled after the fashion of many tribes\nbefore it was painted on the stones; or, in the alternative, that the\nshred from the garment of the one person was dipped in the blood of\nthe other. We have had abundant evidence that a man\u2019s clothes are\ndeemed a part of himself, and that what is done to them is done to\nhim. To dip a portion of my clothes in my friend\u2019s blood, therefore,\nis to unite me to him, to make him my blood-brother, without the\nnecessity of tasting his blood, or even of literally mixing our blood\ntogether. In either way the act would be complete, and the historian\u2019s\naccuracy justified. Even less than this is necessary among other {255}\nnations. A man is deemed a blood-brother if the blood of another touch\nhim only by accident and without any outpouring of his own blood. So\nDr. Livingstone involuntarily contracted blood-relationship with a\nBalonda woman in opening a tumour in her arm, by the spurting of some\nof her blood in his eye.[255.1] Similarly in the Irish saga of _The\nWooing of Emer_ we find Cuchulainn becoming the blood-brother of\nDevorgoil by sucking from her wound the stone that had struck her from\nhis sling.[255.2] An Abruzzian prescription for epilepsy is for some\none on the first attack of the disease to strike the patient on the\near with something of iron, so that the blood flows. The operator\nbecomes the \u201cgossip\u201d (_compare o comare_) of the person thus cured.\nHere it seems to suffice if the blood simply touch the instrument\nused: a much degraded form of the rite, comparable with that in the\nIcelandic story of the fairy cow, and with the practice of scoring a\nwitch. In a variant remedy, however, a person unacquainted with the\npatient bites the ear until the blood flows.[255.3]\n\nA further modification of the rite appears in ancient Arabic\nliterature, whereby the blood shed is not that of one of the\ncontracting parties but of another human victim slain at the\nsanctuary, and the hands of all who shared in the compact were simply\ndipped into the gore. At first it would seem likely that the victim\nwas already a member of one of the clans entering into the alliance.\nThis was the case in the province of Zacatecas in Central America. The\nvictim chosen was first mercifully intoxicated to deaden his pain. It\ndoes not appear that he was put to death; {256} but his ears were\npierced in turn by each member of the contracting clans, who rubbed\nthe spurting blood over his own body.[256.1] After a while, however,\nthe human victim would be dispensed with, or perhaps among many\nnations the victim may always have been a sacred animal, originally of\ncourse a totem-animal. So, among the Dyaks for the purpose of\nreconciling two foes, or of welcoming a stranger, a fowl is killed and\nits blood sprinkled over the parties and the dwelling.[256.2] In the\nChittagong Hills the Kumi and the Shendoos kill a goat or a heifer and\nsmear with its blood the feet and foreheads of the contracting\nparties. Before doing so, however, the presiding chief takes a\nmouthful of liquor from a cup and blows it over one party, blows\nanother mouthful over the other party and a third over the victim.\nSome other ceremonies follow, including the imprecation frequently\noccurring on any one who violates the compact.[256.3]\n\nThe ritual of other peoples deviates yet more from the type. The\ncannibal Bondjos of Africa merely put red ochre on the arms and rub\nthem together.[256.4] Two men of the Limbu, a Bengali tribe of\nMongolian descent, contract brotherhood by a ceremony at which a\nBrahman, or, when the parties are Buddhists, a Lama, presides and\nreads mantras or mystic formul\u00e6, while the two friends thrice\nexchange rupees, handkerchiefs or scarves, and daub each other between\nthe eyebrows with a paste made of rice and curds. And the description\nof the performance holds good of the Muriari and other tribes of the\nsame province.[256.5] {257} In other parts of the world the rite\nfurther degenerates into the mere rubbing of noses, or the striking of\none another\u2019s breasts with an exchange of names.[257.1] Our\nhand-shaking is a pledge of goodwill and fidelity which, we can hardly\ndoubt, points to the same course of ceremonial decay. The exchange of\nnames, practised so frequently among savage peoples by intimate\nfriends, has no different effect. For the name being part of the\nperson, to confer it upon another and to take that other\u2019s name in\nexchange is to effect union as close as the mixture of one another\u2019s\nblood. Among the Abruzzians in Italy, as I mentioned just now, the\nblood-rite is not yet extinct. It is practised in a milder form by two\ngirls who wish to swear eternal friendship after the manner of\nmaidens. Taking each other by the hand and repeating certain\nprescribed rhymes, in which they pray with emphasis that the one who\nbreaks the bond may go straight to hell, each of them pulls a hair\nfrom her own head and puts it on the other\u2019s. Thenceforth they salute\none another as \u201cGossip,\u201d and may safely make one another the recipient\nof the most sacred confidences.[257.2]\n\nIt will readily be understood that the ceremony of the blood-covenant\ncannot be thus truncated and altered in a variety of ways without a\ncorresponding change in the rights and liabilities, the privileges and\ndisabilities, entailed where the clan system is in the plenitude of\nits sway. When a Dyak welcomes a stranger by sprinkling the blood of a\ndomesticated bird, or when two Italian girls exchange hairs, one party\nto the performance is not admitted to the {258} kin of the other. No\nlegal tie of blood results from the ceremony. For all that, a tie is\nformed. The tie of hospitality, or the tie of gossipry, is, in the\ncontemplation of the Italian peasant, or the Dyak, a tie involving\nrights and duties similar within its limits to those of blood. So when\ntwo Slavs enter into adoptive brotherhood, the evolution of society,\nwhich has mollified the rude rite, has also shorn it of many of the\nresulting consequences; and kinsmen of this kind often betroth their\nchildren together while yet in the cradle, in order, we are expressly\ntold, to strengthen the bond between them[258.1]--a betrothal usually\nimpossible in archaic society, because as a rule marriage within the\nkin is forbidden. But it does not come within my design to do more\nthan point out that these differences arise in the consequences, as\nwell as in the forms, of the rite, and in both cases from the same\ncause--the growth of civilisation.\n\nThere is an analogous group of practices the material of which is not\nthe blood but the saliva. In an able and interesting paper, published\nin the _Transactions_ of the International Folklore Congress of 1891,\nMr. J. E. Crombie has investigated the superstitions connected with\nthe use of saliva. His contention is that it is sometimes believed to\ncontain the element of life, that to spit upon another person is to\nadd to the latter\u2019s store of life some of one\u2019s own, and that for two\npersons to spit upon one another is to effect an interchange of life.\nAnd he refers in support of his argument to various customs, among\nwhich may be mentioned the following. At the reception held by an\nOsmanli mother after childbirth, every visitor who looks at the babe\nis expected to spit on it and to {259} conceal her admiration under\nsuch disparaging remarks as \u201cNasty, ugly little thing!\u201d to show that\nshe does not envy or ill-wish it. Among the Masai spitting on another\nexpresses the greatest goodwill and best wishes. Pliny records the\nclassical habit of spitting on a lame man or an epileptic, the reason\ngiven being to avoid fascination or repel contagion. For diseases of\ndifferent kinds fasting spittle is a remedy. To cite Pliny again, he\nspeaks of ophthalmia and crick in the neck being thus cured. Growing\npains in children are treated in the same manner. Among the Samoans,\nwhen a man was ill his relatives used to assemble, and, after\nconfessing whether he had wished the sick man any evil, each of them\nwas required to take some water in his mouth and spurt it out towards\nhim. In making a bargain or contract of any kind the saliva is\nemployed. In Masailand the sale of a bullock is concluded by the\nseller spitting on the animal\u2019s head and the purchaser on the article\nhe is going to give in exchange. At Newcastle in old days when the\ncolliers combined for the purpose of raising their wages they were\nsaid to spit together on a stone by way of cementing their\nconfederacy. So the Anses and the Wanes in making a covenant of peace\nlet fall into a vase each of them some of his saliva, out of which a\nbeing was made endowed with the wisdom of them all. And Mr. Henderson\nrelates that in his school-days the highest pledge of faith two boys\ncould give to one another was to spit.[259.1]\n\n{260}\n\nThe exigencies of a Congress-paper no doubt compelled Mr. Crombie to\nshorten his list of examples. His conclusion is in harmony with the\nopinions advocated in the present volume. But if those opinions be\ncorrect we may go further than Mr. Crombie has ventured. The transfer\nof saliva is more than a gift of a portion of the spitter\u2019s life. It\nis a gift of a portion of himself, which is thus put into the power of\nthe recipient as a pledge of goodwill. Nay, it is a bodily union with\nthe recipient, such as can be effected by a blood-covenant. Possibly\nas Mr. Crombie suggests, it is, where an interchange of saliva occurs,\na form of blood-covenant consequent upon milder manners, like some of\nthe modifications we have already glanced at. Rather it seems to be a\nmore evanescent and less solemn, though still emphatic, form, intended\nonly for temporary purposes. I hope the examples I propose to adduce\nwill bear out this contention.\n\nLet us first recall the uses to which we have, in previous chapters,\nfound saliva put. Equally with the other issues of the body, it is a\nmeans of witchcraft whereby the spitter may be injured and perhaps\ndone to death. In the same way it is available as a means of\ncompelling the love of one of the opposite sex. It is dangerous to\nspit into the fire. To spit the half of a piece of bread which the\npatient has been chewing, and has therefore {261} mixed with his\nsaliva, into a tree is in Transylvania a specific against toothache.\nAnd to spit in certain prescribed places is a remedy for various\ndiseases. The natives of South America spit their coca-quids upon the\ncairns in the Cordilleras; and every Basuto traveller spits upon the\npebble he is about to add to the heap outside the village he is\napproaching. It is hard to put any meaning into these superstitions,\nunless it be one that ignores the separation of the saliva from the\nbody of which it once formed a part. The _m\u00e4rchen_ cited in Chapter\nIX., by causing the heroine\u2019s spittle to answer for her, as if she\nwere present, after she has in fact fled from the ogre\u2019s thraldom,\nexaggerate the identification of the saliva with its owner to the\nheight of endowing it with a large measure of her consciousness and\npersonality. The same exaggeration is to be observed in a practice\namong children in New England, doubtless derived from the old country,\nof divining by means of saliva where a bird\u2019s nest, or something else\nfor which they are searching, is. A boy will spit into the palm of his\nhand and striking the spittle with the forefinger of the other hand\nwill say:\n\n \u201cSpit, spat, spot,\n Tell me where that bird\u2019s nest is,\u201d\n\n(or as the case may be); and the direction in which the spittle flies\nwill be that in which the search must be pursued.[261.1]\n\nTurning now to some other practices, we may begin by glancing at the\nwidely diffused lustration of a babe with saliva. The object of the\ncustom is said to be protection against the Evil Eye. Persius, in the\nfirst century of the {262} Christian era, describes with great scorn a\ngrandmother or superstitious aunt as taking the child from its cradle\nand rubbing its forehead with spittle applied with the middle\nfinger.[262.1] Nor is the custom by any means extinct. To lick a cross\non the infant\u2019s brow is among the Transylvanian Saxons a preservative\nfrom spells.[262.2] And over the whole of Europe it is the most\nordinary act of politeness to spit on a baby. Among the Dalmatians and\nBosnians, when caressing and complimenting a pretty infant, it is\nnecessary, in order to destroy the enchantment produced by the praise,\nto spit on its forehead; and if you chance to forget this, the parents\nwith a pistol at your breast will constrain you to remember it.\nEverywhere in the Balkan peninsula the superstition prevails, as well\nas in Corsica, in the Land beyond the Forest and among the Huzules on\nthe north-eastern slopes of the Carpathians.[262.3] A visitor to\nIreland in the reign of Charles II. records the same among the\npeasantry of his day; and even yet it is far from disappearing. People\nin Wicklow spit on a child for good luck the first day it is brought\nout after birth. At Innisbofin, in the west of Ireland, when the old\nwomen meet a baby out with its nurse they either spit upon it or spit\non the ground all round in a circle, to keep off the fairies.[262.4]\nThe design to ward off the spells of witches or (what amounts to the\nsame thing) of fairies appears, however, {263} to be only a\nspecialisation of a more general intention. The evidence points to the\nmeaning of the ceremony as a welcome into the world, an acknowledgment\nof kindred, a desire to express those friendly feelings which in\narchaic times none but a kinsman could entertain, whatever flattering\nwords might be spoken. It is said that the ceremony referred to by\nPersius was performed on the day the babe received its name. In\nConnemara, immediately after birth, the father spits on his\nchild.[263.1] Some such custom would seem to have been known in\nIceland under the name of Spittle-baptism.[263.2] When Mohammed\u2019s\nelder grandson was born, the prophet spat in his mouth and named him\nHasan.[263.3] Among the Mandingos and among the Bambaras of Western\nAfrica, in the ceremony of naming a child, the griot or priest spits\nthrice in its face.[263.4] In Ashanti the father varies the\nperformance by squirting a mouthful of rum into his child\u2019s face and\ncalling it by a name.[263.5] And in the Roman Catholic rite of\nbaptism--a rite, we are called on to believe, having nothing in common\nwith these heathenish practices--the person operated on, whether babe\nor adult, is to this day bedaubed with the priest\u2019s saliva.\n\nBarbot, writing at the end of the seventeenth century, relates that\nthe interpreter of the king of Zair, in the Congo basin, after rubbing\nhis hands and face in the dust, \u201ctook one of the royal feet in his\nhands, spat on the sole thereof, and licked it with his\ntongue.\u201d[263.6] This, if it stood alone, might be held, like the\nkissing of the pope\u2019s toe, to express {264} mere subservience; but\nother African customs put a different interpretation upon it. In\nnorth-eastern Senegambia if a Massasi be condemned for any offence by\nthe chief and succeed, after sentence pronounced but before\npunishment, in spitting upon one of the princes, he is considered\ninviolable, and must be provided with food and lodging at the expense\nof the personage who has had the imprudence to come within range of\nhis saliva.[264.1] At Orango in the Bissagos Archipelago, off the\nSenegambian coast, the ceremony for sealing a friendship is to spit in\none another\u2019s hands.[264.2] On the other side of the continent, a\nstranger can only be received among the Somali and neighbouring tribes\nas a guest of some family. When so received he is regarded for the\ntime as one of the stock. And the ceremony of reception amongst the\nsouthern Somali and the Orom\u00f3, consists in the host\u2019s spitting in his\nright hand and rubbing it on the stranger\u2019s forehead as a sign of\nnaturalisation.[264.3] Contact with the saliva thus effects union for\nthe moment as binding as the tie of kinship. We must surely give a\nsimilar meaning {265} to the Somali rule which requires chance\npassers-by to spit on the bier at a funeral.[265.1] If they thus unite\nthemselves with the dead they will not, either upon him, or through\nhim upon his surviving kindred, work any mischief by witchcraft. In\nthe same way, too, a Kafir sorcerer offers from time to time his\nsaliva to the spirits, that he may not lose his divining power. The\nking of the principal isle of the Bissagos Archipelago will not\nswallow a single drop of liquid without spitting the first mouthful\nover his fetishes or his amulets.[265.2] And the Basuto diviners\nbelieve that if they neglect to spit before eating they will lose\ntheir power and become like other mortals.[265.3] In these cases the\nspitting is manifestly intended to unite the sorcerer or king with the\nsupernatural Power; and the Basuto form of the offering is perhaps a\ndecayed one, which may be compared to the classical habit of spilling\na drop or two of drink as a libation.\n\nThese African practices correspond with others elsewhere. When an\nIrish peasant wishes to welcome a friend with more than usual\nheartiness, he spits in his own hand ere he clasps his friend\u2019s with\nit. In the East Riding of Yorkshire people stand by a brook to wish,\nand they spit into it: doubtless a relic of the archaic worship of\nwater.[265.4] In Central America, whenever the native traveller came\nto one of the altars erected everywhere on the roads to the god of\ntravellers, he plucked a tuft of grass, rubbed it on his leg, and,\nspitting on it, piously deposited it, together with a stone, upon the\naltar.[265.5] And in the last chapter I had occasion to {266} refer to\nthe customs of Basuto travellers, which also present the attempt at\nunion with the god in a form analogous to those just mentioned of the\nKafirs and Bissagos islanders.\n\nSo the custom of spitting on one\u2019s money for luck appears to be an\nemphatic way of identifying oneself with it. It is usual in England\nfor country people attending a market to sell, to spit on the first\nmoney received and put it into a pocket apart; and the object is\nrightly suggested in an old dictionary \u201cto render it tenacious that it\nmay remain with them, and not vanish away like a fairy gift.\u201d[266.1]\nA Walloon receiving money from one suspected of sorcery bites it,\notherwise it would return to the sorcerer, together with all the\npieces in contact with it in the pocket.[266.2] The biting is\nevidently a method of touching the coin with the saliva. So an Eskimo\nlicks anything which is given him; while in some parts of England it\nis believed that to spit on a gift, such as a piece of money, is to\nensure more.[266.3] For the same reason, as noted in a previous\nchapter, the Danubian Gipsy who desires to assure a maiden\u2019s love will\nobtain some of her hairs, spit on them, and then hide them in the\ncoffin of a dead man. A Transylvanian Saxon in a business matter,\nbefore he pays the first money, spits on it, that it may bring him\nmore.[266.4] An Esthonian, if he be required to empty his purse, will\nspit into it.[266.5] A Spaniard, in buying a lottery ticket, spits on\nthe money before handing it over, in the hope of thus securing the\nwinning {267} number. Others spit on the ground, put the foot on the\nspittle, and only take it off on receiving the ticket.[267.1] The\nPersian gamester, who always attributes losses to the Evil Eye, blows\non the cards or the dice, and feigns to spit on his money before\nstaking it on the game.[267.2] In France a player spits on his\nchair.[267.3] The Cherokee fisherman, before baiting his hook, chews a\nsmall piece of Venus\u2019 Flytrap, and spits it upon the bait and the\nhook, at the same time repeating an incantation addressed to the fish.\n\u201cOur spittle,\u201d he says, \u201cshall be in agreement,\u201d implying, as Mr.\nMooney tells us, \u201cthat there shall be such close sympathy between the\nfisher and the fish that their spittle shall be as the spittle of one\nindividual.\u201d[267.4] A Girondin fisherman, having baited his hook,\nspits on the worm to make the fish bite better.[267.5] In Norway the\nfisherman also spits upon the bait for luck; the tradesman and the\nworking-man spit on the first money they take. In the Lofoden Islands\nthe fisherman\u2019s wife accompanies him to the boat, and always spits in\nit to bestow luck upon him.[267.6] In Upper Ogowe, in Africa, a\nfetish-horn is shaken around a man to bring him luck, a certain herb\nis chewed and the quid is spit out upon him; and in the same way\nchewed herbs are spit upon a new-born child to preserve it from\nspells. Among the Okandas of the same region, in order to assure to a\npirogue a prosperous voyage, the women come with a bouquet of leaves.\nStriking the forepart of the vessel with the leaves, they make a noise\nas of driving away something, and finally spit upon it.[267.7] Olenda,\nthe king of the Ashira in {268} Equatorial Africa, when he gave his\nparting blessing to his sons and Du Chaillu, whom they were to\naccompany on a journey, took a sugar-cane, and biting off a piece of\nthe pith spat a little of the juice in the hand of each of the party,\nat the same time blowing on the hand.[268.1] In his book on the\nHighlands of \u00c6thiopia Major Cornwallis Harris describes a search for\na lost camel. The man who was sent on the search was given the rope\nwherewith the animal had been fettered; but before it was put into his\nhands, spells were muttered over it; and we are told that \u201cthe devil\nwas dislodged by the process of spitting upon the cord at the\ntermination of each spell.\u201d[268.2] So in the old Roman Catholic\nliturgy, when the priest puts his spittle on the ears and nose of the\nperson he is baptizing he says: \u201cEffeta, quod est adaperire, in odorem\nsuavitatis; tu autem effugare, diabole, adpropinquavit enim judicium\nDei!\u201d[268.3] This conjuring formula perhaps derives its value from the\nblessed word _Effeta_, transliterated in our Bibles as _Ephphatha_,\nused by Christ, and having nothing to do with the dislodgment of the\ndevil to which the latter part of the spell, like those muttered over\nthe camel-fetter, refers. Moreover, the dislodgement of the devil is\nan incomplete explanation in both cases, as we shall see directly.\n\nThere is a remarkable method practised among some savages for quelling\na refractory wild animal when caught alive; and here, as in some other\ninstances, we find Western Africa in curious agreement with North\nAmerica. {269} Mr. Kane went out with a Cree Indian to hunt the\nbuffalo, and killed a cow which was followed by her calf. \u201cWishing,\u201d\nhe says, \u201cto take the calf alive, so that it might carry itself to the\ncamp, I pursued and caught it, and, tying my sash round its neck,\nendeavoured to drag it along; but it plunged and tried so violently to\nescape that I was about to kill it, when the Indian took hold of its\nhead, and turning up its muzzle, spat two or three times into it,\nwhen, much to my astonishment, the animal became perfectly docile, and\nfollowed us quietly to the camp, where it was immediately cooked for\nsupper.\u201d[269.1] There is no ground for doubting the facts related by\nthe traveller, however we may account for them. The same procedure was\nadopted by a turtle-fisher with whom Mr. Winwood Reade went sporting\non one occasion in Western Africa. A turtle was caught, and on being\nhauled into the canoe the man \u201cwelcomed him by patting him on the head\nand spitting down his mouth.\u201d The turtles, however, are not always so\nsubmissive as Mr. Kane\u2019s buffalo-calf; for the fisherman showed Mr.\nReade a scar on his arm, which a turtle had once inflicted in\nretribution.[269.2] Exactly the same prescription is adopted by the\nIcelandic parson to lay a ghost. He spits down his throat, or in his\nface; and the performance is said to be effective.[269.3]\n\nIn some of the foregoing illustrations protection against the Evil\nEye, or the driving away of evil spirits, has appeared as the reason\nfor spitting. The habit is one almost universal as a counter-charm to\nwitchcraft. If we look at it a little more closely we shall see that\nit is ultimately {270} referable to the same idea as other spitting\ncustoms, namely, that of effecting union between the person spitting\nand the object on which his saliva falls. This may be done by spitting\nupon one\u2019s clothes, money, or other property, so as to guard them\nagainst attack, as in the case of the gamester\u2019s money or his chair.\nIn Chester County, Pennsylvania, Dr. Brinton records that boys always\nused to spit on a pair of new boots; and it was important to prevent\nothers from doing the same: hence frequent struggles and teasing at\nschool.[270.1] The superstition is derived from Europe, where Reginald\nScot prescribed, centuries ago, and Pliny centuries before him,\nspitting into the right shoe before putting it on: a similar practice\nto that said to be still in use in some parts of Scandinavia of\nspitting into one\u2019s bed before lying down, spitting upon the floor\nbefore rising, upon the grass before sitting down, or into a spring\nbefore drinking from it.[270.2] Captain Binger\u2019s host in one of the\nvillages on the tributaries of the upper Niger never put on his\ntrousers without spitting into them, and never sat down without\nspitting on the seat.[270.3] A Clal-lum of North America on meeting an\nenemy will spit into his own blanket if he happen to be wearing one at\nthe time.[270.4] In the same way a maiden in Theocritus, on repelling\na lover who attempted to kiss her, spat thrice in the breast of her\ngown.[270.5] Pliny describes the Roman practice of spitting into the\nlap as a method of asking pardon of the gods, when indulging in some\nextravagant hope. It is {271} more probably to be assigned to the kind\nof superstitions we are now dealing with. In the same chapter he\nmentions the practice of spitting into one\u2019s urine as a\ncounter-charm.[271.1] Parallel with the latter practice is that\nalluded to by Delrio of spitting thrice on one\u2019s hair-combings before\nthrowing them away.[271.2] In various parts of Italy, if a stone\nbecome lodged in a horse\u2019s hoof, it is usual to take the precaution of\nspitting on it before throwing it away.[271.3] In addition to the\nScandinavian customs just mentioned we also find those of spitting on\nthrowing water out of doors, of spitting on the straw worn in the shoe\nbefore throwing it away, into the bath-water of a new-born child, into\nthe water in which another has washed before washing in it oneself (a\npractice not unknown in England) and others all referable to the same\npurpose.[271.4] The Transylvanian Saxons used to spit on the four\ncorners of a new house, saying a prayer at each corner and kissing it;\nand to protect their belongings from envy they spit and repeat a\ncertain spell every morning on stepping out over the threshold of the\nhouse.[271.5] In Silesia it is proper to spit into the fodder given to\na horse, so as to protect it from witchcraft.[271.6] In Lesbos it is\ncustomary to spit on beholding a handsome person (man or woman), a\nsleek, well-fed horse, cow or sheep, a good milch-goat, or a fruitful\ntree, {272} in order to preserve the object in question from the Evil\nEye.[272.1] In America a Negro, on turning back in a path, makes a\ncross with his foot and spits in it, lest misfortune overtake him the\nnext time he passes that way.[272.2]\n\nAnother course is to spit on the witch. For this cause the Romans used\nto spit on meeting not only a lame man, but apparently also an\nepileptic; for although Pliny speaks of the latter habit as intended\nto repel contagion, it is more likely a modification of an earlier\nhabit of spitting on the unfortunate person. In Sicily still it is the\ncustom to spit behind a hunchback or a sorcerer. A mother will spit at\nany one who admires her child, the moment he has turned his back. And\nwhen a woman is in the pains of childbirth, one of her attendant\nfriends will go to the window and spit thrice, looking sternly all\nabout, as if she hoped to find and reach with her saliva the witch who\nis retarding delivery. The Roman nurses used to spit on the ground\nwhen a stranger entered, or when any one looked at their sleeping\ncharges.[272.3] A Russian nurse, with less civilised manners, is said\nto spit straight in the face of anybody who praises the babe without\nadding: \u201cGod save the bargain!\u201d[272.4] In Corsica a bewitched child is\nmade to spit in the witch\u2019s mouth.[272.5] It is a Norse custom to spit\non meeting a witch. In the Gironde people sometimes spit thrice in\npassing a witch\u2019s dwelling. In Germany there seems to be a similar\npractice when passing any haunted water by night. The Romans spat when\npassing a place where they had incurred any danger. The intention here\nis by spitting on the evil thing so to bring it on your side as to\nprevent its doing you {273} any ill; and the same may be conjectured\nof the incident said to occur in a Russian tale where the Devil is\nmade to flee by spitting upwards, and of the rite of exorcism on the\nGaboon, where the practitioner spits to right and left of the\npossessed person. The Conibos of South America spit on the ground when\nthey meet evil spirits or persons whom they suppose capable of\ninjuring them.[273.1]\n\nA third course is to get the witch to spit on her victim. This is\nconsidered effective in the Aran Islands, where the possessor of an\nevil eye is required to spit on any one whom he may have affected, and\nto say: \u201cGod bless you!\u201d[273.2] Captain Bourke mentions a Mexican case\nwhere a horse was suffering from the Evil Eye. \u201cThe man accused of\ncasting the spell admitted his guilt, but said that he would cure the\nanimal at once. He filled his mouth with water, spat upon the horse\u2019s\nneck, and rubbed and patted the place until it was dry.\u201d The horse\nrecovered in due course.[273.3] For the same reason in Italy the dust\nof the witch\u2019s footprint is flung over the person or cattle bewitched,\nand the Persians scrape the mud from the sorcerer\u2019s shoes and rub the\npart affected.[273.4] The principle is that of taking \u201ca hair of the\ndog that bit you,\u201d to which I have already sufficiently referred.\n\nThe saliva of sacred personages, as we might expect, is of much\nimportance. In this connection the performances of Christian as well\nas heathen priests in exorcism and {274} other rites will be\nremembered. The Tunguz shaman, called in to cure a sick man, \u201ctakes\nthe patient\u2019s head between his hands, sucks his brow, spits in his\nface, and fixedly looks at the affected part.\u201d[274.1] A Tcheremiss\nconjuror pronounces his spells over a vessel of water, beer, milk or\nsalt and bread, blows or spits upon the contents, and then gives them\nto the invalid to drink or eat, as the case may be.[274.2] In Central\nAustralia the old men are the performers of all important tribal\nceremonies. They are credited with shamanistic powers; and their\ntreatment of disease is by spurting a mouthful of water over the\nstricken member and then sucking it.[274.3] On the Paraguay River, the\nGuan\u00e1 medicine-man, when called to attend a patient, spits in the\ncourse of his ceremonies strenuously on the suffering spot.[274.4]\nSpitting, in fact, when performed by properly qualified practitioners,\nis a powerful remedy. Vespasian is said to have restored his sight to\nan inhabitant of Alexandria by spitting on his eyes.[274.5] The old\nthaumaturgists of the Church were not wont to be outdone by any\none--not even by their Lord, still less by a heathen Pontifex Maximus.\nAccordingly, we find Hilarion (the saint, it will be recollected, who\nhad so excellent a nose) repeating Vespasian\u2019s miracle on a woman,\nalso in Egypt.[274.6] More purely spiritual are some other uses of\nspitting. At Foochow, in China, when a family removes to a house\npreviously occupied {275} by another family, a priest first of all\ncleanses the dwelling by spirting water from his mouth, or scattering\nit direct from the bowl he carries; and on returning from a funeral\nthe priest stands at the house-door and spirts from his mouth water\nover the members of the bereaved family to purify them, repeating as\nhe does so a short formula.[275.1] Among the Khonds the Meriah,\nprevious to his sacrifice, was paraded through the village, when hairs\nwere plucked from his head by the people, while some begged for a drop\nof his saliva, with which they anointed their own heads.[275.2] Dr.\nWolf, when in Abyssinia, being mistaken for the new Abuna, or bishop,\nwas compelled to spit upon the people, and to have his feet washed\nthat the devotees might drink the water of ablution.[275.3] Cases like\nthese are ambiguous: a different and simpler interpretation may be put\nupon them. In view, however, of other customs relating to saliva, we\nshall probably not be straining the analogy by describing the\nfundamental idea rather as the desire for union with the divinity,\nthan the ascription of an inherent power to his emanations.\n\nHaving now sketched the results arrived at by Professor Robertson\nSmith and other distinguished anthropologists in reference to the\nblood-covenant, and briefly discussed several forms of the rite, I\nhave endeavoured to put before {276} the reader a series of parallel\nusages with saliva. This has led us to other superstitions more\nclosely related to those of sorcery, medicine and worship earlier\npassed in review. In all these alike we have found the same ideas--the\nideas, namely, which form the core of the incident of the Life-token\nand the practices it embodies. Armed with the conclusions drawn from\nthe consideration of the blood-covenant, we will go on to examine some\nother social institutions and ceremonies on various planes of\ncivilisation.\n\n\n\n\n CHAPTER XIII.\n FUNERAL RITES.\n\n{277}\n\nIf I have made clear the corporate character of the clan, or _gens_,\nas conceived by savage thought, the reader will have understood how\ncompletely the clan is regarded as an unity, literally and not\nmetaphorically one body, the individual members of which are as truly\nportions as the fingers or the legs are portions of the external,\nvisible body of each of them. We saw in previous chapters that a\nsevered limb, a lock of hair or a nail-clipping, was still regarded as\nin some invisible but real union with the body whereof it once, in\noutward appearance also, formed part; and any injury inflicted on the\nsevered portion was inflicted on the bulk. The individual member of a\nclan was in exactly the same position as a lock of hair cut from the\nhead, or an amputated limb. He had no separate significance, no value\napart from his kin. More than that: as we shall see hereafter, injury\ninflicted on him was inflicted on, and was felt by, the whole kin,\njust as an injury inflicted on the severed lock or limb was felt by\nthe bulk. This unity of the clan is constantly renewed by the common\nmeal, where the same food is partaken of, and becomes incorporated\ninto the essence of all who share it. In strictness commensal rights\nbelong {278} only to the kin. To eat together means to be of the same\nflesh and blood, for none others could do so. Such a rule of course\ncame to be modified as soon as hospitality was recognised as a duty or\na privilege. But the stranger admitted as a guest to the meal became\nby that act a temporary member of the kin. The rights conceded to him\nso long as he remained a guest were the rights of kinship, and\nentailed corresponding liabilities. He could not, however, share the\ncommon meal in its most solemn form, namely, the totem sacrifice,\nwithout becoming a blood-brother, and thus entering the kin as a\npermanent member. In mingling his blood with the blood of the clan,\nand feeding with them on the totem-animal, he became one with them as\nmuch as if he had been already united with them in a common descent.\nAbandoning his former country and kin and worship, he identified\nhimself with a new organism having a different domicile with different\nrights and interests and a different cult.\n\nThe common meal was thus the pledge and witness of the unity of the\nkin, because it was the chief means, if not of making, at least of\nrepairing and renewing it. And its importance is emphasised everywhere\nby its repetition upon every solemn occasion, and by its forming the\ncentre of the entire ritual. This may be taken for granted of many\nsuch occasions; but it may seem strange to assign it a position so\nprominent in some. It is not obvious, for instance, how it can be the\nmost important act of a funeral. The funeral feast, however, is\nprobably universal; and in savage communities it is difficult to\noverrate its significance. The most archaic form, if barbarity be a\ntest of archaism, in which it is known to us, is where the meat is\nnothing less than the corpse of the departed kinsman. Cannibalism in\n{279} any form excites so much horror in civilised mankind that we\nhesitate to believe it is a stage through which we have all passed.\nBut it is certainly a custom very widely spread and characteristic of\na low plane of culture. We cannot, and we need not, now discuss\ncannibalism in general. Of all the forms it has ever assumed, the most\nhorrible is that of the eating of the bodies of our nearest and\ndearest; and that is the form we have to consider.\n\nIn considering it, and recalling, as we must, some of the repulsive\ndetails of the rite, we cannot do better than begin by reminding\nourselves of the anecdote related by Herodotus of the Persian king,\nDarius, to illustrate the power of custom. He tells us that the\nmonarch once called into his presence some Greeks, who were in the\nhabit of burning their dead, and asked them for what reward they would\nbe willing to devour the bodies of their parents. They replied, of\ncourse, that nothing would induce them to do such a thing. Then\nsummoning certain Kalatiai, an Indian people who used to eat their\ndead, in the presence of the Greeks (who were informed by an\ninterpreter of what was being said) he put the converse question to\nthem, for how much they would burn their deceased parents. They, on\nthe other hand, broke out into exclamations, begging him to desist\nfrom such ill-omened language. Leaving the moral of this story to be\ndigested as we proceed, we may review some of the other accounts by\nancient and modern travellers of the practice under consideration. The\nFather of History ascribes it not only to the Kalatiai. Among Indian\npeoples he mentions the Padaioi, concerning whom he furnishes us with\na little more detail. The Padaioi were a race of nomads alleged to\nfeed on raw flesh. When any of the tribesmen fell sick they were {280}\nmercilessly put to death by their most intimate associates, by which\nexpression is perhaps meant their fellow-clansmen. The men were killed\nby the men, and the women by the women. They sacrificed all who\narrived at old age, and feasted upon them. But these were not\nnumerous, because they slaughtered every one attacked by disease. That\neven the latter were intended to be eaten is clear from the reason for\nputting them to death, namely, that otherwise as they were wasted by\nsickness their flesh would be utterly spoilt.[280.1] In this respect\nthey differed for the worse from the Massagetai, the Scythian nation\nwhose fierce and masculine queen overcame the mighty Cyrus. They only\nate the aged. Those who died of disease they stowed away in the earth,\naccounting it a misfortune that they had not come to be sacrificed.\nThe kindred of an old man would assemble and immolate him, as well as\nother animals at the same time; and then boiling the flesh all\ntogether they would feast upon it. The Issedones, also Scythians, seem\nto have been somewhat less savage, for we gather that they waited\nuntil a natural death removed the aged. When once a man\u2019s father was\ndead, the rite, however, was not different from that of the\nMassagetai, save that we are told they preserved the skull, set it in\ngold, and used it at their solemn yearly festivals.[280.2] Herodotus\nis not the only writer of antiquity who attributes this kind of {281}\ncannibalism to savage tribes. The geographer Strabo likewise records\nof the Derbikes in the Caucasus that the men of seventy and upwards\nwere put to death and eaten by their nearest kinsmen, but the women\nwere buried; for they never used for food the flesh of any female\nanimal. And the ancient Irish, more savage, he tells us, than the\nBritons, considered it praiseworthy to devour their dead fathers,\nthough he admits very fairly that his authority for the statement is\nnot decisive.[281.1] In the Middle Ages Marco Polo found a tribe in\nTartary, whose capital he calls Chandul, who used to cook and eat men\ncondemned to death. Those who died by natural means, on the other\nhand, they did not eat.[281.2] It is doubtful whether he refers to\ncriminals as thus eaten; and he is silent as to who joined in the\nfeast. No such ambiguity attaches to the usage reported by the\nVenetian adventurer as existing in the kingdom of Deragola on the\nisland of Sumatra. The savages of this kingdom, when any kinsman fell\nsick, used to send for their shamans, who made incantations to\nascertain whether he would recover. If the answer were favourable,\nnature was left to do her best; if unfavourable, they sent for the\nprofessional slaughterman, by whom he was suffocated and cooked. The\nnext of kin then assembled and devoured him, afterwards enclosing his\nbones in a coffin, which was put away in a mountain cavern.[281.3]\nLess authentic are the accounts preserved by the author of Sir John\nMaundeville\u2019s travels concerning the East Indian islands. He\nattributes a similar practice to the inhabitants of islands he calls\nCaffolos and Dondun. Of that of Rybothe he relates that a dead body is\ngiven {282} to the birds of prey, but that the son of the deceased\nmakes a feast, and serves the flesh of the head to his particular\nfriends, making a drinking cup of the skull, which he uses for the\nrest of his life.[282.1] Other medi\u00e6val writers ascribe the same\nspecies of cannibalism to Tibetan tribes.[282.2]\n\nThese statements have received confirmation in modern times from the\nreports of travellers among tribes in the lower savagery almost\neverywhere. As in the older writers, there is some ambiguity on the\nquestion who was expected or entitled to partake of the horrible food.\nA comparison, however, of the accounts clearly shows that it was\noriginally confined to the clan, though possibly the melancholy\nsatisfaction of uniting oneself with the departed in this manner may,\nin different places, have been extended by special favour to intimate\nfriends not belonging to the kin, or, by a modification of tribal\ncustoms, to the entire local organisation. Not to weary the reader I\nhave selected in a note at the foot of the page a number of references\nto cases where the rite is reported to exist in full force;[282.3] and\nI now propose {283} to examine some changes and adaptations of its\nform down to its latest survivals in the folklore of civilised Europe.\n\nBut first of all we may take note of some observances among the\nAmerican aborigines, which, though not connected with funerals, afford\nus a glimpse of the sacramental {284} character of a feast upon a\nkinsman\u2019s body. The Totonacas, a tribe of the Mexican Chichimecs, used\nto slay periodically three of their children and mix the blood with\ncertain herbs from the temple-garden, and the sap of the _Cassidea\nelastica_, into the consistency of dough, which was called _toyoliayt\nla quatl_ (Food of our Life). Every six months all adults of the tribe\nwere required to partake of it as a kind of Eucharist. And the\ncompiler, from whom I take the account, sarcastically adds: \u201cThey thus\npartook of human blood without previous miraculous transformation.\u201d\nThe Cacivos of Peru are also said to sacrifice and eat a voluntary\nvictim every year.[284.1] The Aztecs and the peoples allied to them\nare infamous for the hideous barbarity of their human sacrifices; and\nindeed it is incalculable what benefits were conferred on these\nunhappy nations in the softening of manners and the refinement of\ncharacter, not to mention the salvation of immortal souls, when the\nsanguinary rites of Quetzalcoatl and Huitzilopochtli were swept away,\nto make room for the Unbloody Sacrifice of the Mass and the hecatombs\nof the Holy Inquisition. Among the Aztecs a prisoner of war was\nesteemed his captor\u2019s son. He was generally sacrificed at the feast of\nXipetotec, deity of the goldsmiths, and Huitzilopochtli. The body was\nreturned to the captor, who cut it up and divided it between {285} his\nsuperiors, relations and friends, not tasting it himself, because \u201che\ncounted it as the flesh of his own body.\u201d He gave the skin to be worn\nfor twenty days by another, who went about during that time collecting\ngifts for the captor. At another festival of Huitzilopochtli a dough\nstatue of the god was made with certain seeds and the blood of\nchildren. It was formally \u201ckilled\u201d at the conclusion of the\nceremonies, by means of a flint-tipped dart, and then cut up and eaten\nby the male part of the population. This was called the killing and\neating of the god.[285.1] Nor can we doubt that we have in these rites\nvestiges of totemistic feasts at which the totem-victim was not\nimprobably represented by a kinsman.\n\nWe return to funeral feasts. The Fans of Equatorial West Africa have\nrepeatedly been charged with this kind of cannibalism, but, while\nasserting it of their neighbours, have always denied it of themselves.\nThe solution seems to lie in the fact that they sell their dead to the\nOsebas, who are recognised as a kindred race, and buy in return Oseba\nbodies for the purpose of consumption.[285.2] In short, repugnance to\neat their own relatives has sprung up, without entire abandonment of\nanthropophagy. A curious compromise between burial in the earth and in\nthe bodies of living members of the tribe appears in an account of the\nceremonies on the death of a recent king of the Bangala. He was cut in\ntwo lengthwise, and another man slain for the purpose was treated in\nlike manner. One half of the one, and a half of the other, were then\nput together, so as to {286} form an entire man, and buried. The\nremaining halves were stewed with manioc and bananas and eaten with\nother sacrifices.[286.1] In some cases the flesh of the dead is only\neaten in the delirium of grief, or as a mark of particular affection.\nThe latter is related to have frequently happened on the demise of a\nHawaiian chief.[286.2] For the same reason mothers, among the\nBotocudos of South America, ate their dead children.[286.3] While in\nCalifornia the Gallinomero burnt the body immediately life became\nextinct; and the frenzy of survivors reached such a pitch that one of\nthem has been seen to rush up to the pyre, snatch a handful of blazing\nflesh, and devour it on the spot.[286.4] A method of consuming the\ncorpse adopted by the savage tribes inhabiting the valley of the\nUaupes, a tributary of the Amazons, is described by Dr. Wallace. Their\nhouses are generally built to accommodate the entire community; and\nthe dead are buried beneath the floor. About a month after the\nfuneral, Dr. Wallace tells us, the survivors \u201cdisinter the corpse,\nwhich is then much decomposed, and put it in a great pan, or oven,\nover the fire, till all the volatile parts are driven off with a most\nhorrible odour, leaving only a black carbonaceous mass, which is\npounded into a fine powder, and mixed in several large _couch\u00e9s_\n(vats made of hollowed trees) of a fermented drink called _caxir\u00ed_;\nthis is drunk by the assembled company till all is finished; they\nbelieve that thus the virtues of the deceased will be transmitted to\nthe drinkers.\u201d Similar customs are reported of {287} other South\nAmerican peoples.[287.1] Among the Koniagas, an Eskimo tribe of Alaska\nand the adjacent islands, when a whaler dies, one method of disposing\nof his body is to place it in a cave. There his fellow-craftsmen\ncongregate, before setting out upon a chase. They take the body out,\nimmerse it in a stream and then drink of the water.[287.2]\n\nSpeaking generally, the practice of eating a dead kinsman, which is\nprobably the earliest form of cannibalism, is also the earliest form\nto be abandoned. In the South Sea Islands, for example, where the\ncustom of eating strangers has continued until recent years, the flesh\nof one\u2019s own tribesmen is rejected, save in rare instances, such as\nthat of Hawaii. In the Banks\u2019 Islands it is occasionally eaten, in\norder to establish communion with a dead man for magical purposes: a\npractice likewise known in Australia.[287.3] But though the custom\nchanges, the sacramental idea underlying it is retained; and the\nproblem would be how to effect the necessary union between the dead\nand the living without partaking of the body. On the island of Vate,\nin the New Hebrides, the aged were put to death by burying them alive.\nA hole was dug, and the victim placed within it in a sitting posture,\na live pig tied to each arm. Before closing the grave, the cords were\ncut; and the pigs were afterwards killed and served up at the funeral\nfeast.[287.4] In this way they seem to be identified with the corpse.\n\nIn Europe, where flesh is not consumed ceremonially at {288} the\nfuneral feast, other means even more expressive are taken to ensure\nthe same object. In the Balkan peninsula the rites are very\nsignificant. In Albania, cakes of boiled wheat and other ingredients\nare carried in the funeral procession, and eaten by the mourners upon\nthe grave as soon as it is filled up. All expressions of sorrow are\nrepressed as sinful while it is being eaten; and as each person takes\nhis share he says: \u201cMay he (or she) be forgiven!\u201d[288.1] In some parts\nof the peninsula the cakes bear the image of the dead. They are broken\nup and eaten upon the tomb immediately after interment, every mourner\npronouncing the words: \u201cGod rest him!\u201d[288.2] At Calymnos, among the\nGreeks, the funeral, as elsewhere, takes place on the day of death.\nK\u00f3lyva cakes like those in Albania are then made, and are guarded in\nthe house of the departed all night, with two lighted candles, by a\nwatcher who must not go to sleep. The next day they are carried first\nto the church and then to the tomb, on which they are set to be\ndistributed. The eating of K\u00f3lyva cakes is repeated with similar\nceremonies on the third, ninth and fortieth days, and again at the end\nof three, six and nine months and of one, two and three years, after\ndeath.[288.3] It is impossible to {289} mistake the meaning of these\npractices: the image of the dead upon the cakes, the acts of carrying\nthem in the funeral procession and eating them upon the grave,\nelsewhere the night-watching, and everywhere the cessation of mourning\nand the pious exclamations during eating, all admit of but one\ninterpretation.\n\nThe ritual eating of special food is used at funerals in many\ncountries. Pulse is not mentioned as an ingredient of the K\u00f3lyva\ncakes. It was, however, an important part of the funeral feasts of the\nRomans; and Mr. F. B. Jevons, commenting on Plutarch, has quoted\nPorphyry\u2019s statement, that Pythagoras bade his followers \u201cabstain from\nbeans as from human flesh,\u201d and the reason mentioned by Pliny as\nentertained by some for the prohibition, namely, that the souls of the\ndead are in them.[289.1] The various taboos and other superstitions\nconnected with beans point to the correctness of this reason, and tend\nto show that pulse was in some way identified with human flesh. In the\nFrench provinces of Berry and the Marche, a plate of beans, or of\ndried peas, always figures among the provisions of the funeral\nbanquet.[289.2] In the Marches of Italy the family on returning from\nthe burial-ground sit down together to a large plate of beans.[289.3]\nIn some parts of Friuli a soup of beans is distributed; in other\nplaces cakes of barley, or grated cheese. Elsewhere a loaf or cake of\n_pan di tremeste_, composed of rye and vetch, is given, with wine or\nbrandy, to all who come to chant the rosary and other prayers over the\ncorpse on the evening of death.[289.4] In the neighbourhood {290} of\nRimini the feast consists of a broth of chick-pease.[290.1] But the\nform assumed by the ritual food is usually either cakes or fermented\nliquor, frequently both. Cakes called _wast\u00ea_ are eaten in the\nArdennes.[290.2] In Wales it seems that a hot plum-cake fresh from the\noven used to be handed round to the guests, broken in pieces, not cut\nwith a knife. In Sardinia, on the seventh or ninth day after death,\nsavoury cakes are prepared and sent hot from the oven to all the\nrelatives and neighbours, and to all who have joined in the weeping\nfor the dead, or accompanied the corpse to the tomb. The family then\ngathers at supper, celebrating the virtues of the deceased between the\nmouthfuls of food and their tears.[290.3] Dough-nuts, among the Turks,\nare sent to friends and to the poor on the third, seventh, and\nfortieth days after the funeral; and prayers for the soul are\nrequested in return.[290.4] Bread carried in the funeral procession is\ndistributed to the poor by the Tamil population of Ceylon.[290.5] On\none of the Banks\u2019 Islands, \u201cwhen a great man dies, the people from all\nthe villages around bring mashed yams the next morning to the place\nwhere the dead man lies and eat them there.\u201d[290.6] Among the\nAbyssinians the poor receive from the banquet pieces of bread and of\nthe entrails and liver of the animals which are served up.[290.7]\n{291} The Tcheremiss of the Kama and the Volga provide small pancakes,\nwhich they eat as soon as the grave is filled up, every one depositing\nthree morsels upon the grave, saying: \u201cThis is for thee.\u201d[291.1]\n\nIn several of the cases cited the eating of the dead has evidently\nundergone a natural transformation into eating with the dead. But\nwherever a special food is used it may be suspected to represent the\nflesh of the deceased. In the funeral cakes of the Balkan peninsula\nthe identity is manifest. I shall try to show that it is the same\nnearer home. In various parts of England and Wales a custom of giving\nsmall sponge-cakes to the guests is yet in force. In Yorkshire and\nelsewhere the last part of the funeral entertainment before the\nprocession started for the churchyard was to hand round glasses of\nwine and small circular crisp sponge-cakes, whereof most of the guests\npartook. These cakes were called \u201cAvril-bread.\u201d The word _Avril_ is\nsaid to be derived from _arval_, succession-ale, heir-ale, the name of\nthe feasts given by Icelandic heirs on succeeding to property.[291.2]\nNow, although it might be suspected that the avril-bread represented\nthe corpse, we should not be justified in holding that it did without\nmore direct evidence. That evidence can fortunately be supplied, from\na funeral which took place near Market Drayton in Shropshire on the\n1st {292} July 1893, as described by an eye-witness. \u201cThe lady,\u201d\nwrites Miss Gertrude Hope, \u201cwho gave me the particulars, arrived\nrather early, and found the bearers enjoying a good lunch in the only\ndownstairs room. Shortly afterwards the coffin was brought down and\nplaced on two chairs in the centre of the room, and the mourners\nhaving gathered round it,\u201d a short service was then and there\nconducted by the Nonconformist minister, as is frequently done, before\nsetting out for the grave. \u201cDirectly the minister ended, the woman in\ncharge of the arrangements poured out four glasses of wine and handed\none to each bearer present across the coffin, with a biscuit called a\n\u2018funeral biscuit.\u2019 One of the bearers being absent at the moment, the\nfourth glass of wine and biscuit were offered to the eldest son of the\ndeceased woman, who, however, refused to take it, and was not obliged\nto do so. The biscuits were ordinary sponge biscuits, usually called\n\u2018sponge fingers\u2019 or \u2018lady\u2019s fingers.\u2019 They are, however, also known in\nthe shops of Market Drayton as \u2018funeral biscuits.\u2019\u201d These cakes are\nnot exactly of the shape mentioned by Canon Atkinson as used in\nYorkshire, but that is of no importance, because their shape varies\nwith the place. What follows is enough to show that the scene\ndescribed is not a solitary one. \u201cThe minister, who had lately come\nfrom Pembrokeshire, remarked to my informant that he was sorry to see\nthat pagan custom still observed. He had been able to put an end to it\nin the Pembrokeshire village where he had formerly been.\u201d[292.1]\n\nHere, it will be observed, the ritual food is handed across the\ncoffin. Pennant, writing early in the fourth quarter of the eighteenth\ncentury, says that in Wales \u201cprevious to a {293} funeral, it was\ncustomary, when the corpse was brought out of the house and laid upon\nthe bier, for the next of kin, be it widow, mother, sister or daughter\n(for it must be a female), to give, over the coffin, a quantity of\nwhite loaves, in a great dish, and sometimes a cheese, with a piece of\nmoney stuck in it, to certain poor persons. After that, they present,\nin the same manner, a cup of drink, and require the persons to drink a\nlittle of it immediately.\u201d The Lord\u2019s Prayer was then repeated by the\nminister, if present; and the procession started.[293.1] We can have\nlittle doubt that this was the same custom. A hundred years earlier\nstill it was witnessed by John Aubrey at Beaumaris. He mentions it as\noccurring when the corpse is brought out of doors. The food consisted\nof cake and cheese, with \u201ca new Bowle of Beere, and another of Milke\nwith ye Anno Dni ingraved on it, & ye parties name deceased.\u201d And Dr.\nKennett, who annotated his manuscript, refers to a practice at\nAmersden, in Oxfordshire, of bringing to the minister in the\nchurch-porch after the interment a cake and a flagon of ale.[293.2] In\nWales and the Welsh border the custom underwent a curious development.\nIt became, for some cause, a profession to eat this funeral meal, and\nthereby, as was believed, to become responsible for the sins of the\ndeceased. Aubrey describes one of these Sin-eaters, as they were\ncalled. \u201cOne of them I remember lived in a Cottage on Rosse-high way.\n(He was a long, leane, ugly, lamentable poor raskal.) The manner was\nthat when the Corps was brought out of the house and layd on the\nBiere, a Loafe of bread was brought out, and delivered to the\nSinne-eater over the corps, as also a Mazar-bowle of maple (Gossips\nbowle) full of beer, wch he was to drinke up, and {294} sixpence in\nmoney, in consideration whereof he tooke upon him (ipso facto) all the\nSinnes of the Defunct, and freed him (or her) from walking after they\nwere dead.\u201d[294.1] The profession of Sin-eater and the full ceremony,\npagan enough in all conscience, have vanished from the earth only\nwithin the lifetime of persons yet living. The most modern account of\nit was given by Mr. Matthew Moggridge of Swansea to the Cambrian\nArchaeological Association at Ludlow in the year 1852. He said that\n\u201cwhen a person died, the friends sent for the Sin-eater of the\ndistrict, who on his arrival placed a plate of salt on the breast of\nthe defunct, and upon the salt a piece of bread. He then muttered an\nincantation over the bread, which he finally ate, thereby eating up\nall the sins of the deceased. This done, he received his fee of 2s.\n6d.\u201d (a modest fee for the service, all things considered, though it\nhad risen since Aubrey\u2019s day), \u201cand vanished as quickly as possible\nfrom the general gaze; for as it was believed that he really\nappropriated to his own use and behoof the sins of all those over whom\nhe performed the above ceremony, he was utterly detested in the\nneighbourhood--regarded as a mere Pariah--as one irredeemably lost.\u201d\nMr. Moggridge specified the neighbourhood of Llandebie, about twelve\nor thirteen miles from Swansea, as a place where the custom had\nsurvived to within a recent period.[294.2]\n\n{295}\n\nThus in our own country we find the relics of a ritual feast, where\nfood is placed upon the coffin, or rather upon the body itself, or\nhanded across it, and so in a manner identified with it, and where it\nis expressly believed that by the act of eating some properties of the\ndead are taken over by the eater. Let us now turn back for a moment to\nthe East. At a Hindu funeral in Sindh the relations, in the course of\nthe march to the place of burning, throw dry dates into the air over\nthe corpse. These, we are told, are considered as a kind of alms, and\nare left to the poor. On returning to the house, after the cremation,\nthe first thing done is to offer the couch, bedding, and some clothes\nof the deceased to a Karnigor who is in attendance. A Karnigor is a\nlow caste-man,--according to some, the offspring of a Brahman father\nand a Sudra mother. North of Hydrabad his appearance and conduct\nresemble those of the servile, south of that city those of the\npriestly, order. The condition of the gift is, that the Karnigor must\neat a certain sweetmeat prepared for the occasion. If he refuse, the\nghost of the dead man would haunt the place. This means that the\nfuneral rites would have been incomplete. The Karnigor has, therefore,\nthe game in his own hands; and, rejecting the first advance, he\ndemands not only all the articles of dress left by the departed, but\nfees into the bargain. \u201cWhen his avarice is satiated, he eats four or\nfive mouthfuls of the sweetmeat, seldom more, for fear of the spirit.\nAfter this, he carries off his plunder, taking care not to look behind\nhim, as the Pinniyaworo [head mourner] and the person who prepared the\nconfectionery {296} wait until he is fifteen or twenty paces off,\nbreak up all the earthen cooking pots that have been used, and throw\nthree of the broken pieces at him, in token of abhorrence.\u201d[296.1] Can\nwe fail to be reminded of the Sin-eater? Nor is this the most\nremarkable parallel to be found in India. The burning of the corpse of\na king of Tanjore who died in 1801, and of two of his widows chosen\nfor the purpose by the Brahmans, is described by the abb\u00e9 Dubois. He\nstates that a part of the bones which escaped the fury of the flames\nwas reduced to powder, and this powder, having been mixed with boiled\nrice, was eaten by twelve Brahmans. The reason for the proceeding is\nput by the abb\u00e9 almost in the very words I quoted in the last\nparagraph. The act \u201chad for its object the expiation of the sins of\nthe defunct persons: sins which, according to common opinion, are\ntransmitted into the bodies of those whom the allurement of gain has\ninduced to surmount the repugnance that a food so detestable should\ninspire. Moreover, people are persuaded that the money which is the\nprice of this base condescension is never of any profit to\nthem.\u201d[296.2] If any doubt could remain as to the meaning of the Welsh\ncustom, this would be enough to dissipate it. But in truth it is not\nneeded; for we have in Europe other usages that set the meaning in the\nclearest light. In the Highlands of Bavaria, when the corpse is placed\nupon the bier, the room is carefully {297} washed out and cleaned.\nFormerly it was the custom for the housewife then to prepare the\n_Leichen-nudeln_, or Corpse-cakes. Having kneaded the dough, she\nplaced it to rise on the dead body, as it lay there enswathed in a\nlinen shroud. When the dough had risen, the cakes were baked for the\nexpected guests. To the cakes so prepared, the belief attached that\nthey contained the virtues and advantages of the departed, and that\nthus the living strength of the deceased passed over, by means of the\ncorpse-cakes, into the kinsmen who consumed them, and so was retained\nwithin the kindred.[297.1] Here we find ourselves at an earlier stage\nin the disintegration of tradition than in the Welsh practice. The\nidentification of the food with the dead man is not merely symbolic.\nThe dough in rising is believed actually to absorb his qualities,\nwhich are transmitted to those of his kin who partake of the cakes;\nand--consistently with the requirement that the relatives eat the\ncakes--the qualities transferred are held to be not evil but good\nones: the living strength, the virtues and so on of the dead are\nretained within the kin. Not less striking than the resemblance just\npointed out between the objects of the Hindu and the Welsh rites, is\nthat between the objects of {298} the Bavarian custom and that of the\nTari\u00e1nas and other tribes of the Uaupes for consuming the pounded\nremains of their kinsmen in their caxir\u00ed. In both cases, indeed,\nthere is more than resemblance. The objects are absolutely the same;\nand it is inconceivable that the European usages wherewith we are\ndealing had any other origin than a cannibal feast, the material of\nwhich was the very body of the deceased kinsman.\n\nIt is natural to inquire whether any trace of this cannibalism lingers\namong the Irish, who alone among European races have been charged with\nit. There is a trace, though it must be admitted a fainter trace than\nwe have found on this side of Saint George\u2019s Channel. Yet I think when\nwe compare it with the latter we shall conclude that it is enough, and\ntherefore that in all probability Strabo\u2019s accusation was not\nunfounded. The drinking which goes on at a wake is of course a relic\nof the funeral feast. It takes place in the presence of the corpse. A\nforeigner, describing a nobleman\u2019s obsequies which he witnessed at\nShrewsbury in the early years of King Charles the Second, states that\nthe minister made a funeral oration in the chamber where the body lay,\nand \u201cduring the oration there stood upon the coffin a large pot of\nwine, out of which every one drank to the health of the deceased. This\nbeing finished six men took up the corps, and carried it on their\nshoulders to the church.\u201d[298.1] I am not aware whether in Ireland the\nwhisky is thus brought into immediate contiguity with the bier. In\nConnaught it was the custom about a generation ago, and probably still\nis, to place a plate of tobacco cut in short lengths, and a plate of\nsnuff on the breast of the corpse; a boy stood at the door with a\n{299} basket of pipes, and each person helped himself according to his\ninclination.[299.1] Whatever may be the case as regards tobacco, I am\ninformed by eye-witnesses that it is still an Irish custom to lay a\nplate of snuff on the breast of the dead; and everybody who attends\nthe funeral is expected to take a pinch. This ceremony must have\nassumed its present shape in recent times; but it cannot be doubted\nthat it represents the more archaic consumption of food or drink\nsimilarly placed.\n\nI mentioned just now that dates were thrown, at a funeral in Sindh,\nover the corpse, and left to the poor. Before the funeral at Calymnos,\nfigs and other fruit contributed by the relatives of the deceased, are\ncarried from his house to the churchyard and there distributed among\nthe poor.[299.2] In classic times the Greeks and Romans used to offer\nto the manes of the departed on the ninth day after the burial; and on\nthe steps of the grave-monument a simple meal of milk, honey, oil and\nthe blood of the sacrificed animals was prepared. If the tomb were\nlarge enough, there was a separate apartment provided, where the meal\nwas consumed. As numerous guests were impossible in the limited space\nordinarily available, the wealthy used often to distribute flesh-meat\namong the people, and in later times money.[299.3] To-day, in the\nAbruzzi, when a {300} maiden dies, comfits and money are distributed\nduring the procession from the house to the church, and in some places\nalso from the church to the graveyard, just as they are distributed\nduring a wedding procession. This perhaps has no significance for our\npresent inquiry; but the funeral feast which follows the burial must\nnot be left unnoticed. Its material is provided by the most intimate\nfriend of the dead,[300.1] who sometimes joins in it. No one else is\nadmitted beside relatives. The table whereon the coffin has rested is\nthe one used for the meal, and if not large enough, others are added\nto it to extend it. On returning to the house the party, after an\ninterval of solemn silence, begin by telling their beads. The nearest\nof kin, one after the other, hand round the food, and the life and\nmerits of the defunct are the invariable subject of conversation. They\nrepeatedly press one another to eat and drink. This and the talk about\nthe departed, from the way they are mentioned, appear to be important\nparts of the ceremony. The utensils must be returned empty and\nunwashed to the friend who has furnished the meal. Nothing eatable may\nbe sent back: it must be finished by the servants and those who have\ntaken part in the preparations for the funeral. Nor may the meal be\ntaken in the usual room.[300.2]\n\nSeveral things are noteworthy in the Abruzzian feast; and there are\nfew readers with the ceremonies we have {301} been discussing in their\nminds, who will not come to the conclusion that where the solemn\nbanquet is spread on the table where the corpse has previously lain,\nwhere there is mutual urging to eat and nothing is permitted to be\nleft, and where the virtues of the deceased are discussed as part of\nthe rite, there is a presumption that the feast was originally upon\nthe flesh of the dead. Among the Masurs, though we hear nothing about\nthe requirement to finish the food, special food is provided, which we\nalready know as a suspicious circumstance. Combined with the other\ndetails I am about to give, I venture to think it affords fairly\nstrong evidence as to the original character of the mortuary feast.\nThe body is placed on a table in the middle of the room, and the\nneighbours and relatives assemble round it. Buns and schnaps are\nplaced on the table for the men; and the schnaps is drunk in turn out\nof the same glass. The women drink it with a spoon from a bowl.\nSuitable religious songs are sung. After the funeral, schnaps\nthickened with honey is served to the women on the same table; and at\nthe feast which follows, presumably on the same table, groats mingled\nwith honey are a special dish. In some districts the body is covered\nwith a table-cloth, which is afterwards put over the funeral bakemeats\non the table; and no one can take them until it is removed. At the\nmeal all drink in brandy to the everlasting rest of the\ndeparted.[301.1]\n\nIn classical times and classical lands, as we saw, the tables were\nspread at the tomb. At Argenti\u00e8re, in the department of the Hautes\nAlpes, France, this continues to be done immediately after the burial;\nand the table of the cur\u00e9 and the family is placed upon the grave\nitself. The dinner {302} ended, every one, led by the next of kin,\ndrinks the health of the departed. Here the situation of the chief\ntable is unambiguous. We should hesitate to say so much of the\nclassical feast, or of the custom prescribed by the ritual of the\nmonastery of Saint Ouen at Rouen, where after the abbot\u2019s death a\nrepast of spices and wine was given in his chamber.[302.1] Neither the\ncelebration of the formal meal in the death-chamber nor at the grave\nis conclusive of itself. When once the practice of eating the dead was\nabandoned, and only a symbol of the loathsome food remained, the\nmeaning of the symbol would tend to pass out of memory, and, according\nto varying circumstances, sooner or later the symbol itself would\nundergo change and disappear. The totem-feast, on the other hand, of\nwhich it may be plausibly maintained the cannibal feast on the dead\nkinsman was originally part, shorn of its most savage detail, would\nremain in full vigour. So far as it was a funeral observance it would\nreceive a specific development with appropriate surroundings, and its\ntotemistic character would gradually be forgotten. Moreover, it is\npossible that the cannibal feast was by no means universal at any\ntime. However this may be, the totem-feast being a sacramental rite, a\ncommunion between the living members of a clan and their totem, one of\nthe most obvious extensions of the sacramental idea would be that of\ncommunion with the dead. The latter would be supposed to join in the\nfeast and partake of the food: a portion of which would accordingly be\nreserved for them. And as the deceased member of the clan would be\nsupposed to be sojourning at his grave, it would of course be greatly\nfor the convenience of all parties that the feast should be held {303}\nthere, and the portion meant for him deposited in or upon the tomb.\nDeath had not relieved him of the wants of life; but it had released\nhim from certain of its limitations. The conditions of his existence\nwere changed. While in some directions he had been deprived of power,\nin others he had become possessed of greater power than during life;\nand all beings possessed of extraordinary power were regarded with\ndistrust. Savage man felt himself capricious, revengeful, envious,\ncruel. The feelings he experienced, the feelings he saw manifested in\nhis fellow-men, he attributed to the mightier creatures of his\nimagination. Now life was, in his contemplation, so much more\ndesirable than death, that the dead would naturally have been supposed\nto envy the living. Here was a distinct cause of ill-will. The dead\nman must, therefore, be kept from haunting the survivors. To that end\nhis funeral rites must be fully and properly performed, and every\nprecaution taken both to persuade him to stay at a distance and to\nprevent him from finding his way back. One means to do this was to\nprovide him with food in or upon his sepulchre. He would thus be\ninduced to abide there, or, as the case might be, to take his\ndeparture straight thence to the dwelling-place of spirits, and not to\nlinger among the kindred who were anxious to be rid of him. This\nbelief gave rise to the repetition of feasts of the dead, for the\nneeds of the dead must be constantly supplied. Besides, to keep them\nin good humour would be to enlist their sympathy and their help; and\nwho could know how much that help might mean against enemies, or in\nthe chase, or in the operations of agriculture? Thus, not only love\nfor the departed, and the desire for communion with them, but every\nother motive concurred on the one hand to provide {304} them with\nfood, and on the other hand to consult their convenience in\nfacilitating their enjoyment of it. The reasoning was not free from\ninconsistencies, because there were cross-currents of tradition. All\nof them did not flow from the habit of looking upon the dead as\nabiding permanently in their graves. Probably this was the original\nfaith. But the belief in a separate realm of souls grew up as culture\nadvanced, and disturbed the earlier tradition. The possibility of\nreturn to life by a new birth into the kin was another opinion that\naffected it. And the doctrine of Transformation must, from the most\narchaic times, have intervened as a modifying influence, for\ntransformation implies locomotion. The savage did not always trouble\nhimself to reconcile inconsistencies. His simple credulity accepted\nthem all. We need not wonder; for even the mind of civilised and\neducated man is built in watertight compartments: whereof no reader\nwill want examples.\n\nThe meal at the grave, then, or in the death-chamber, may be a meal at\nwhich the dead man is one of the convives. Instances are numerous in\nthe lower culture. Some of them, like that of the Tcheremiss Tartars,\nhave been mentioned; and I select a few more, out of many, further to\nillustrate the practice. It will be convenient to begin with the\nTchuvash, whose seats are on the middle reaches of the Volga, because\ntheir customs, if correctly reported, seem, like those of the\nTcheremiss, to show the eating of the dead passing over into the\neating with the dead. After burial in the public cemetery the\nrelatives deposit on the grave some cakes and a piece of cooked fowl,\nsaying, like the Tcheremiss: \u201cThis is for thee.\u201d The old clothes of\nthe deceased are thrown over the tomb; and the rest of the cakes are\neaten by the funeral escort, {305} by whom the repast is regarded as\ntaken in company with the dead. On the fortieth day after burial an\nanimal, designated by the deceased in his lifetime for that purpose,\nis killed. Libations are made, and half the flesh with other food is\ndeposited on the grave. This is devoured, amid lamentations of the\nrelatives, by dogs; \u201cfor it is believed that the dogs become the\ndwelling-place of the souls of the dead. The feasting then begins, and\neating and drinking continue until all the supplies are\nexhausted.\u201d[305.1] The Tchuvash appear to be the same people of whom\nHanway, in the middle of the last century, relates that they throw\ntheir dead into the open field to be devoured by dogs, of which many\nrun wild, and some are kept for the purpose.[305.2] If the dogs become\nthe dwelling-place of the souls of the dead by eating of the memorial\nbanquet, we are presented with a result comparable with that obtained\nby the Bavarian Highlanders and the Tari\u00e1nas; and we may conjecture\nthat in earlier times the deceased was eaten by the kin.\n\nImmediately before the burial of an Ainu, millet-cakes and wine are\nhanded round to the assembled relatives and friends. Each person\n\u201coffers two or three drops of the wine to the spirit of the dead, then\ndrinks a little, and pours what is left before the fire as an offering\nto the fire-goddess, all the time muttering some short prayer. Then\npart of the millet-cake is eaten, and the remainder hidden in the\nashes upon the hearth, each person burying a little piece.\u201d After the\nbody has been interred these fragments are carried out of the hut and\nplaced together before the eastern window, which is always a sacred\nspot.[305.3] When a {306} dead Chinaman is put into his coffin, a\nquantity of food is put before him, and afterwards removed and eaten\nby his family; and again at the burial eatables are taken from the\nhouse and set on the tomb, and subsequently brought back to be\nconsumed at the funeral meal.[306.1] Moreover, at each of the\noft-repeated memorial feasts for the departed, some of the food is\nfirst placed before the ancestral tablets, or the tombs, and then\neaten by the family; and it is believed that the spirits partake of\nits \u201cessential and immaterial elements.\u201d[306.2] In the funeral rites\nof the Dyaks food is set before the dead ere the coffin is closed. It\nis allowed to stand for about an hour by the corpse, and is then\ndevoured by the next-of-kin.[306.3] On the death of a Hungarian Gipsy\nhe is carried out of the tent or hut. It is now the duty of the\nmembers of his clan to offer to the deceased gifts, especially food\nand drink, which they lay beside the body and later on themselves\nconsume.[306.4] The S\u00e0kal\u00e0va of Madagascar bury in a family\ncemetery. \u201cA cup and a plate are placed by the side of the coffin, and\nevery now and then the friends go in large numbers, and taking rice\nand rum with them, hold a feast in these cemeteries, and believe that\nthe spirits of their dead ancestors and relatives come and join\nthem.\u201d[306.5] The Hillmen of R\u00e1jmah\u00e1l on the death of a chief, hold\na feast where a part of the provisions is dedicated to their god and\nto the spirit of the deceased, and thus becoming forbidden {307} to\nthe survivors, is thrown away.[307.1] On Florida and San Cristoval,\nand possibly other of the Solomon Islands, at the funeral feast a bit\nof the food is thrown into the fire for the departed, with the words:\n\u201cThis is for you.\u201d On Lepers\u2019 Island and the Banks\u2019 Islands, the\nfeasts are repeated for a long period; and a portion is always set\naside with the words: \u201cThis is for thee.\u201d On the Banks\u2019 Islands,\nindeed, at ordinary meals when the oven is opened a morsel of food is\nput aside for the dead with the words: \u201cThis is for you; let our oven\nbe well cooked.\u201d[307.2] The tribes about Lake Nyassa, in Central East\nAfrica, hold a memorial feast two or three months after the death, of\nwhich the spirit of the deceased is considered to partake.[307.3]\nAmong some of the Senegambian tribes, when the grave is filled up, a\nfowl, with its legs tied, is laid upon the mound, within reach of some\nwater and boiled rice, which are placed at the head of the grave. If\nit eat any of the rice it is killed, the tomb is sprinkled with its\nblood, the flesh cooked and partly eaten, partly left for the dead.\nThis ceremony is repeated at every renewal of the customary\nlamentations.[307.4] The Koiari tribe of New Guinea cook food at\nstated times, formally present it to the dead man, and then eat\nit.[307.5] The Dorah tribesmen on the same island hold a feast two or\nthree months after the death of a first-born son, when the skull is\nproduced, adorned with a wooden pair of ears and nose and with eyes of\ncoloured {308} seeds. The head thus prepared is honoured with a\nportion of all the dishes.[308.1] So on the island of Nagir, in Torres\nStraits, at the death-dance held three months after the death of a man\nwhose skull was afterwards sold to Professor Haddon, the skull being\nprepared and adorned was placed on a mat in the midst of the assembly.\nFood was provided for the immediate relatives, and laid before the\nskull. The feast then began; and it must have been accompanied by much\nenjoyment, for we are told that all got very drunk.[308.2] Perhaps\nthis was the way in which the Issedones used the skulls of their dead.\nThe same intention is doubtless to be understood of the memorial\nfeast, or Karmantram ceremony, of the Eastern Kullens of Madura, in\nSouthern India. After a meal, to which the relatives are invited, in\nthe evening a bier, followed by the kin, is carried with music to the\ngrave. The dead man\u2019s wife\u2019s brother digs up the corpse, and removes\nthe skull, which he washes and smears with sandal-wood powder and\nspices. He then seats himself on the bier, holding the skull in his\nhand, and is carried without music to a shed in front of the house of\nthe deceased, where the skull is set down, and the relatives weep and\nmourn over it until the following noon. The succeeding twenty-four\nhours are given over to drunken revelry. This, it will be observed, is\nin the presence or immediate neighbourhood of the skull. It is\nafterwards carried back by the person who brought it from the grave,\nseated again on the bier and accompanied by music. Arrived once more\nat the grave, the son or heir of the deceased, at whose expense the\nrite is performed, burns the skull and breaks an earthen pot. The\nrelatives on {309} returning bathe and then feast together,[309.1]--an\nordinary conclusion to a funeral ceremony. Here, if I am right in my\ninterpretation, only drink is offered--by no means a solitary\ninstance. The Livonians used to stand round a corpse drinking,\ninviting it to partake, and pouring for that purpose a part of the\nliquor over it. The pagan Lapps sprinkle the grave with brandy, part\nof which is reserved for the mourners at the funeral feast. However,\nthey also kill the reindeer that draws the body to the burial-ground,\neat the flesh and bury the bones, but in a separate coffin.[309.2]\nAmong the Peguenches in the south of Chili, when the body is deposited\nin the graveyard, but before it is put into the ground, a feast is\nprepared. Every one who partakes, before eating throws a morsel of\nfood towards the corpse, crying out \u201c_Yuca-pai_.\u201d[309.3] At the other\nextremity of the Western Continent the Eskimo sometimes pay a formal\nvisit to the sepulchre taking pieces of deerskin and fat. Of the fat\nthey eat a portion, standing round the grave, and talking the while to\nthe dead. Then each of them lays a piece of deerskin (still covered\nwith the fur) and a piece of fat under a stone, exclaiming: \u201cHere is\nsomething to eat, and something to keep you warm.\u201d[309.4] The feast\nwith the dead is common among the North American tribes. It is eaten\nat the grave. A fire is kindled; and each person before eating cuts\noff a small piece of meat which he casts into the fire. The smoke and\nsmell of this, they say, attracts the {310} ghost to come and eat with\nthem. Nor only so. The practice of setting aside a portion of their\nfood for the ghost whenever they eat or drink is continued, sometimes\nfor years, until they have an opportunity of sending out this memorial\nwith a war-party, to be thrown down on the field of battle, when their\nobligation to the departed ceases.[310.1]\n\nAmong the examples I have given, the skull of the dead man often\nappears at the festivity. Other representatives of the deceased are\nalso found. The Tcheremiss _kart_, or shaman, wears the garments of\nthe deceased; and when the feast is over it is he who gives what is\nleft to the dogs.[310.2] The Teng-ger tribes of Java accord the most\nconspicuous position to a mannikin about a foot and a half high, made\nof leaves, dressed in the clothes of the dead and ornamented with\nflowers.[310.3] The practice of making images of the dead and\nconjuring the spirits into them is not an uncommon one; and wherever\nit exists we are justified in assuming that the images would not be\nallowed to go without their due share of nourishment at proper times.\n\nThe meaning of some ceremonies may not be quite so clear; as when one\ntribe of Tartars, having eaten the favourite horse of the departed,\nsticks up its head on the grave; or another tribe, killing and eating\na fat mare, hangs her skin from the branches of the tree that shades\nthe tomb.[310.4] The southern tribes of British Columbia often killed\nthe horse of the deceased and decked the grave with its skin.[310.5]\nThe Yoruba of West Africa collect the bones of the fowls and sheep\neaten by the guests, and of the other {311} victims sacrificed, and\nplace them over the grave.[311.1] The Kamtchadales eat a fish in\nmemory of the departed and throw the fins into the fire.[311.2] The\nKirghiz Tartars burn on the tomb the bones of the horse they have\neaten--usually the favourite of the dead man.[311.3] Animal bones,\nburnt and unburnt, and especially the head of an ox, are frequently\nfound in opening barrows in this country, pointing to practices on the\npart of the prehistoric inhabitants analogous to these.[311.4]\nProbably, in many cases at least, they are the remains of a banquet\ncommon to the living and the dead.\n\nThe drink bestowed on the dead in some of the foregoing instances\nperhaps represents blood; and blood, it will be remembered, was the\nshare of the totem-god in the sacrificial feasts. Nothing could,\ntherefore, more plainly bespeak the meaning of these funeral rites. In\nsome cases, indeed, as we have seen, the blood is sprinkled upon the\ngrave. So among the Wanyika the corpse when buried holds in its hand a\npiece of skin taken from the head of a goat or cow which has been\nkilled for the feast, and the grave is sprinkled with the blood before\nit is filled up.[311.5] The dead body of a Yoruba is spattered with\nthe blood of a he-goat slain to propitiate the phallic deity, Elegba;\nbut whether the mourners partake of the flesh we are not told: most\nlikely they do.[311.6] In the same way wine was sprinkled on a Roman\u2019s\ngrave--a ceremony of which we find the relic, after cremation began to\nbe practised, in the formal extinction {312} of the ashes by the\noutpouring of wine. The rites of the Todas and Kotas of the Neilgherry\nHills are complicated; and only a portion of them need be noticed in\nthis connection. The corpse is burnt; but a piece of the scalp and\nsome of the finger-nails are first cut off and preserved between two\nstrips of bark as relics. On the anniversary, or some other suitable\nday, buffaloes are sacrificed; the relics are rubbed with their blood\nand ceremonially burnt; and their flesh is eaten by the Kotas.[312.1]\n\nWe may dismiss funeral banquets with one further observation. The\nintention of sharing a common meal with the dead is by no means\nabandoned at the completion of the funeral ceremonies. The feasts, as\nin several cases we have already noted, are repeated at intervals.\nIndeed, at all festivals when the entire kin is assembled the deceased\nmembers are conceived as assembled with them; a portion of the food is\nset aside, a portion of the drink is poured out for the departed. The\ncult of the dead in this form survives into the higher phases of\ncivilisation. At various times in the year, particularly at Halloween,\nall over Europe, the tables are set, the doors are opened, and the\nghosts are invited to partake of the fare provided by their\ndescendants and relatives; and it is believed that they actually come\nand enjoy the food prepared for them, and warm themselves on the\nhearth, which, in the days of their flesh, they used to tend, and\naround which they used to gather, when work was over, to eat their\nfrugal fare, and to rejoice one another with social converse and the\nperformance of domestic rites. A tender custom! and one that pleads\npathetically for its continuance as a witness to {313} a faith in\ncomparison wherewith Christianity is a thing of yesterday, a faith not\nless true than Christianity itself in its recognition and its\nconsecration of some of the deepest and most vital emotions of our\nnature.\n\nThere are other ways of forming a sacramental union with the dead.\nAmong the Tolkotins of Oregon, who burnt their dead, the widow was\ncompelled to pass her hands through the flame and collect some of the\nliquid fat exuding from the body, wherewith to daub herself. The\nModocs appear to have smeared their persons with the blood of any of\ntheir kindred who died violent deaths.[313.1] On the Gilbert Islands\n\u201cthe nearest relations,\u201d whatever that expression may include, are\nsaid to rub themselves with the saliva which escapes from the mouth in\nthe agonies of death.[313.2] Other savages rub themselves with the\nliquid flowing from the putrefying corpse. There is no need to dwell\non this loathsome custom. It is reported of tribes extending over a\nconsiderable area of the earth\u2019s surface, namely, of the Krumen near\nSierra Leone, the Antank\u00e0rana in Madagascar, the aborigines of\nVictoria, the Andrawillas in East Central Australia, the Koiari of New\nGuinea, the Laughlan Islanders between New Guinea and the Solomon\nIslands, the inhabitants of New Britain and the Similkameens of\nBritish Columbia. Of the last we are told in so many words that they\nbelieve that in this way some portion of the deceased becomes\nincorporated in them.[313.3] Nay, some {314} peoples, like the Banks\u2019\nIslanders and the Aron Islanders imbibe these fluids; but the Nias\nIslanders perform the duty by deputy in the persons of their wretched\nslaves, who according to one account are suffocated in the\nprocess.[314.1] Of a party of Tasmanians who were deported to Barren\nIsland we are told that they were seen to collect the ashes of the\ndead after burning, and smear a portion of them every morning on their\nfaces, singing the while a death-song and weeping.[314.2] Among the\nDigger Indians of California the relatives are said to cover their\nhands and faces with a mixture of tar and the ashes of the\ndeceased.[314.3] And the Correguajes Indians of New Granada burn the\nbones when the wild beasts have removed the flesh, and use the ashes\nas a pigment for painting themselves, \u201cthe relatives having the first\nright to its use.\u201d[314.4] Earlier in the chapter I mentioned a method\nof dealing with the dead body of a Koniaga whaler. An alternative\nmethod is to cut it into small pieces and distribute it among the\nother whalers, each of whom rubs the point of his lance upon it, so to\nunite the weapon with the skill and power inherent in the deceased,\nand preserves the morsel as a permanent talisman.[314.5] Sometimes a\nTchuktchi, tired of life, is put to death by his kinsmen at his own\ndesire. All who take part in the ceremony bathe their faces and hands\nin his blood. They then burn his body on a funeral pyre, {315}\nstanding around it and praying the departed not to forget them.[315.1]\nA Dyak rite identifies the victim at the commemorative festival with\nthe deceased. The corpse is put into a temporary coffin for\npreliminary burial until the _Tiwah_, or Feast of the Dead, can be\nheld. On that occasion a slave, or prisoner of war, is provided and\ndressed in the usual clothing of the deceased. Thus clad, the victim\nis wounded by all the assembled guests and finally killed. The\npriestesses in attendance then daub the relations of the deceased with\nthe victim\u2019s blood, \u201cso to reconcile them with the departed and to\ngive them to understand that they have now fulfilled their obligation\ntowards his wandering soul.\u201d After a night of debauchery the remains\nof the dead man and the victim are placed in one permanent coffin, in\nthe family dead-house; but the victim\u2019s skull is ranged with others\noutside.[315.2] The details of this ceremony are unmistakable, though\nit is right to say that the victim is now regarded simply as an\nattendant on the departed in the other world.\n\nOther means are also adopted. Among the Andaman Islanders, over a\nlarge part of the Southern Ocean, in various districts of America, and\nperhaps among the Wahuma of East Africa, certain of the bones, either\nwhole or calcined, are worn. Naturally the widow is, above everybody,\nexpected to do this. Among the Mosquitos of Central America and the\ntribes of Honduras the widow took up the bones after burial for a year\nand carried them for another year, sleeping with them at night. Not\nuntil she had ceased to do this was she permitted to marry\nagain.[315.3] In {316} Australia the Kulin widow seems to have carried\nthe head and arms of her husband for an indefinite time, if not for\nthe rest of her life.[316.1] Among the Kurnai the mummified corpse was\ncarried about by the family in its migrations for years under special\ncharge of the parents, the wife or other near relatives, and finally,\nafter it was buried or stowed away in a hollow tree, the father or\nmother, if living, would carry the lower jaw \u201cas a memento.\u201d[316.2]\nThe Kiriwina widow in New Guinea hangs from her neck her husband\u2019s\nlower jaw richly ornamented with glass and shell beads.[316.3] The\nMincopie widow is said to wear the entire skull.[316.4] Among the\nnatives of the western districts of Victoria the widow of a chief by\nhis first marriage wears a bag containing some of his calcined bones\nfor two years, or until she marries again; and she also gets the lower\nbones of the right arm entire, which are carried in an opossum skin\nfor the same period. Conversely, a widower wears his wife\u2019s calcined\nbones in a bag of opossum-skin for twelve moons, and then buries\nthem.[316.5] The Taw-wa-tins and Tacullies of British Columbia, and\nthe Tolkotins of Oregon, compel a widow to wear her husband\u2019s calcined\nbones for three years, during which time her life is made a burden to\nher by his kindred, so that widows marrying again have been known to\ncommit suicide rather than undergo the suffering a second time.[316.6]\n{317} In many cases the bones are permanently worn by the relatives of\nthe deceased: in other cases, only for a time. Sometimes they are\nexpressly recognised as charms; but always they seem to be something\nmore than mere memorials of the dead.[317.1]\n\nThe skull and various other bones are yet more frequently kept in the\ndwelling.[317.2] The instances to which {318} reference is given in\nthe note are, with the exceptions of the Issedones in antiquity and\nthe Krumen of the Grain Coast and the Andaman Islanders among modern\nsavages, confined to the islanders of the Pacific Ocean, and certain\ntribes of North America, Honduras, and the northern parts of South\nAmerica. Where the circumstances permit, as in the case of the\nIchthyophagi and other ancient Ethiopian tribes, the old Egyptians,\nthe Chinese, the Solomon Islanders, the Banks\u2019 Islanders, the\nislanders of Ambrym in the New Hebrides, and the Yorubas of the Slave\nCoast, the corpse is kept either permanently, or for a lengthened\nperiod in the house unburied.[318.1] And after burning, the ashes are\nsimilarly kept by several of the aboriginal peoples of Bengal and\nAssam, until the time arrives when they can be solemnly committed to\nthe river or put into the family grave.[318.2] The Wakonda burn the\ncorpse; and the ashes, collected into a jar are preserved by the\nfamily.[318.3] Along the Skeena River in British Columbia the natives\ncremated their dead, and sometimes hung the ashes in boxes to the\nfamily totem-pole.[318.4] Like certain Tibetan tribes, and perhaps\n{319} the Issedones, some of the native Australians used the skull for\na drinking-cup.[319.1]\n\nA custom more widely spread than that of keeping the bones, because\nattended with much less inconvenience, is that of taking and keeping\nsome of the hair, nails or pieces of garments of the dead. It may,\nindeed, be said to prevail through the greater part of the world; nor\nhas the custom of preserving a lock of hair cut after death as a\nmemorial of the departed yet vanished from among ourselves. An acute\nwriter in the _Contemporary Review_ some years ago related that in the\nWest Indian island of St. Croix those who washed the dead prior to\nburial always took a lock of hair, a garment, or at least a fragment\nof a garment, in order to prevent the spirit from molesting them for\nventuring to tamper with the place of its late habitation. And he\nadds: \u201cAt first thought, it seems most natural to believe that the\nsurest way to prevent any visit from a dead man is to take nothing of\nhis with you. But not so. A liberty has been taken with his body by\none who is probably a total stranger, hired perhaps for the express\npurpose of preparing him for his coffin. Now, if you take something of\nhis, something that is either a part of him, or has been on his\nperson, you in a sense identify yourself with him; you establish as it\nwere, a kind of relationship, and thus the liberty you take with him\nmust seem much less to him.\u201d[319.2] The reader who has followed the\nargument of {320} the preceding paragraphs and the preceding chapters\nwill have no difficulty in admitting that here the true theory has\nbeen touched. The motive that prompts an English mother to wear in a\nbrooch a lock of hair and the likeness of the darling she will see no\nmore on earth is the same as induces a Friendly Islander to pass a\nbraid of the hair of his dead kinsman through his own ear, and to wear\nit there for the rest of his life. It is the same as leads a Mosquito\nwidow to carry about her husband\u2019s bones and to sleep with them.\nConsciously or unconsciously, the idea at the root of these and\nsimilar practices is that of sacramental communion with the dead. In\nthe West Indian Negro practice just cited we see the application of\nthis idea to the protection of the person who may perchance have\nincurred the wrath of the dead. Thus applied, it is analogous to that\nof counteracting witchcraft by uniting the witch in blood-brotherhood\nwith her victim.\n\nHitherto we have only considered methods of effecting communion with\nthe dead based on the appropriation by the living of some part of the\ncorpse. This, however, implies the reciprocal possibility of communion\nformed by means of a gift of some portion of the living body to the\n{321} dead. Nothing more nor less I take to be the real meaning of the\npractice, forbidden to the Hebrews, of cutting oneself for the\ndead.[321.1] We find this practice in its most complete form among the\nOrang Sakei, a people whose chief seats are about the river Siak on\nthe eastern side of Sumatra. There, at a funeral the kindred, making a\ncross-cut with a knife on their heads, drop the blood on the face of\nthe corpse. Individuals are found who by repetition of this mutilation\nhave lost all the hair from their heads.[321.2] They have indeed, in\nthe words of the Deuteronomist, made a baldness between their eyes for\nthe dead. At Tahiti, in Captain Cook\u2019s time, mourners were in the\nhabit of wounding themselves with knives and clubs consisting of canes\nor pieces of wood set with sharks\u2019 teeth, and allowing the blood and\ntears to drip on small cloths which they threw under the bier. As\ndescribed by Mr. Ellis, some half century later, the performance was a\nlittle different. Both sexes cut themselves. The females wore short\naprons of a special kind of cloth, which they held up to catch the\nblood until it almost saturated them. The aprons were then dried in\nthe sun and given to the nearest surviving relatives as proofs of the\naffection of the donors, and were preserved by the bereaved family as\ntokens of the esteem in which the departed had been held.[321.3] It is\neasy to see that this may have been a modification of the rite as it\nprevailed in Captain Cook\u2019s day, and that both may have been derived\nfrom a rite similar to that of the Orang Sakei. In Australia the rite\nis found both in its original and its {322} degraded forms. When the\nbody is placed in the ground the practice of several tribes is that\nthe mourners leap into the grave in turn, and are there cut on the\nhead with a boomerang, so as to allow the blood to fall over the\ncorpse. Among the tribes of the Murray river, the kindred of the\ndeceased, assembled round the corpse, or at all events in its\npresence, used to lacerate their thighs, backs and breasts with shells\nor flints until the blood flowed in streams. After burial the women\nvisited the grave at stated intervals, by night or in the early\nmorning, there to renew their wailings and lacerations. With other\ntribes it is enough for the mourners to gash themselves, or be gashed\nby others, in sign of grief: the process of ceremonial decay has\ncaused the need of bringing the blood into contact with the body of\nthe deceased to be no longer recognised.[322.1] The Mosquito Indians\nlacerate and bruise themselves until they bleed in the dead man\u2019s\nhut.[322.2] The Boror\u00f3 women in Central Brazil, at the festival for a\ndead man, cause their limbs to be scratched until the blood flows, and\nallow it to drip into the basket containing the bones.[322.3] Four\naborigines executed for murder at Helena, on the head waters of the\nMissouri, in December 1890, were mourned by two squaws. One of the\nsquaws cut off two of her fingers and threw them into the grave. The\nother gashed her face. Both caused the blood to flow into the grave,\nand had previously scalped their children.[322.4] In another case\n{323} of which a traveller in the early part of the present century\nwas a witness, the mourners\u2019 blood was made to flow over the dead man\nand over the food that was buried with him. But, though we have\nsufficient testimony to the archaic form of the custom among the North\nAmerican peoples, that form is far from universal. More usually they\nare content with simply wounding themselves, careless where the blood\nmay fall.[323.1] On the occasion of a burial among the Battas the\nwives of the dead not only weep and howl, but scratch their faces and\nbodies until the torn skin hangs down in places, and the blood streams\non the earth.[323.2] When an Abyssinian corpse is about to be removed\nto its final resting-place some of the mourners \u201cfrantically grasp the\nbier, as if wishing to retain it by force; others, convulsed by the\nthroes of agony and despair, rend their clothes, tear their hair,\nlacerate their faces and necks with their nails, so that the blood\ntrickles down in streams.\u201d[323.3] The Abyssinians call themselves\nChristians; but in this respect they have hardly advanced beyond many\nbenighted pagans, like those already mentioned, or like the\nGallinomero of California who burnt the bodies of their dead, and\nhowled and wounded themselves the while in a manner, we are told, too\nterrible for description.[323.4]\n\nNor is mere cutting and wounding all. Many savages deem it necessary\nto inflict permanent mutilations on themselves, like the squaws of\nMontana just mentioned. Among {324} the Fiji Islanders, when a king\ndied, each of the women cut off a finger-joint. These were hung upon\nthe eaves of the royal house. The amputation of a finger-joint was a\ncommon sign of mourning; and poor people made a business of it,\nreceiving payment from the relatives of the dead in exchange for their\nsevered members.[324.1] In numerous cases of mutilation, as of\nlaceration, however, the evidence is wanting that the amputated\nmember, like the blood, was brought into contact or proximity with the\ncorpse. In such the rite is probably in a decayed form. The mere\nwounding or amputation had come to be looked upon as enough. With\nregard especially to amputation the process is clear. As the totem\ndeveloped into a god the idea of sacrifice evolved in like measure\nfrom sacramental communion into a gift, a present to propitiate an\noffended being, a substitute for the votary himself who had deserved\ndeath, or (as in the instance of Admetos) whom the divinity was\ncalling out of life. To save themselves from death, or from calamity,\nmen offered up something of less value than their own lives, or than\nthat whose loss or injury they dreaded, but still something of value\nand importance. Thus, as Dr. Tylor recalls, mothers in the southern\nprovinces of India will cut off their own fingers as sacrifices lest\nthey lose their children; and golden fingers are sometimes\noffered--\u201cthe substitute of a substitute.\u201d[324.2] At length a virtue\nis attached to the mere abnegation. To deprive oneself of what is held\ndear, or what is essential to enjoyment, or even to life, is in itself\nof merit, {325} quite apart from any thought of benefiting the deity.\nThe shedding of blood, or the amputation of a finger, for the purpose\nof communion with the dead would follow a parallel course, and would\ngradually acquire virtue alone as a means of testifying to the\naffection and the grief of the survivor, without bringing the survivor\ninto ritual union with the departed.\n\nIn the closest connection with wounding and mutilation for the dead,\nis the cutting, tearing or shaving of the hair. We have already\nstudied gifts of hair to the dead; and if our conclusions as to them\nbe correct, we must also conclude that the cutting or tearing of the\nhair as an expression of mourning is a relic of that custom which led\nHecuba to lay her grey locks upon Hector\u2019s grave and Achilles to\nbestrew the body of Patroklos with his shorn tresses. Dr. Wilken\ncontends that the intention alike of wounding, of mutilation and of\nthe gift of hair is the dedication of oneself to the dead, a\nconsecration of the entire person, a pledge of ultimate reunion. That\nit is so in some cases seems clear. But this dedication must in a far\ngreater number of instances be made repeatedly to quite different\npersonages who have stood during life in a variety of relations to the\nmourner. Where only wives devote their hair to their dead husbands and\nare not allowed to marry a second time, things would arrange\nthemselves easily in the next world. But if they shed their blood, or\nshear their locks also for fathers and brothers, for kindred and\nfriends all round--nay, perhaps for another husband or two,--then one\nwould imagine that even savages might anticipate awkward contingencies\nyonder. The truth is that the practice has sprung from a lower plane\nof culture than is supposed in a theory of self-dedication and {326}\nfuture reunion. We know little of the belief in a future life\nentertained by the Tasmanian aborigines. From what little we do know\nit is safe to say that the Tasmanian woman who threw her hair upon the\ngrave of her mother or her child, had no thought of self-consecration\nto the dead or of meeting again in another world. But she cherished\nthe belief that by means of her hair she could still be in some sort\nof union with one she had loved. In short, the radical idea of all the\npractices we have discussed in the present chapter is the same,\nhowever much it may be modified with rising civilisation and the\ngradual evolution of the conception of deity and spirit and the life\nafter death. It is grounded in the conviction of the continued, though\nmysterious, oneness of a body with its severed parts, and the absence\nof any conception of spirit apart from a visible and tangible material\nexistence.\n\nOther funeral rites point in the same direction. We will confine our\nattention to one. The custom of burial in a common grave or at least\nin one general cemetery, is very widespread. It is found in all\nquarters of the globe. The reason is given by Sir Richard Burton in\ndescribing the practices in Sindh. \u201cThey believe that by interring\ncorpses close to the dust of their forefathers, the _ruha_, or souls\nof the departed, will meet and commune together after death.\u201d[326.1]\nThis is a belief that could not have arisen, save at a time when no\nsharp division had been drawn between body and spirit. Mr. Crawfurd\nsays: \u201cWhen a Javanese peasant claims to be allowed to cultivate the\nfields occupied by his forefathers, his chief argument always is that\nnear them are the tombs of his progenitors. A Javanese, as I have\nremarked in another place, cannot endure to be removed {327} from\nthese objects of his reverence and affection: and when he is taken ill\nat a distance, begs to be carried home, at all the hazards of the\njourney, that he may \u2018sleep with his fathers.\u2019 The bodies of some of\nthe princes who died in banishment at Ceylon, I perceive, were, at\ntheir dying request, conveyed to their native island.\u201d[327.1] I need\nnot dwell on the practice itself of burying the kindred in one place.\nIt is well known, and even among ourselves is not destitute of force,\nappealing as it does to our most sacred feelings. As little need I\ndwell upon the belief underlying it. But some of the modes of giving\neffect to it may detain us for a few moments.\n\nEven if already buried in another place the Sindhi and their\nneighbours, the Yusufzais of Afghanistan, will exhume the bones and\nbring them home for a fresh burial.[327.2] So do the natives of the\nGold Coast, even though years have elapsed since the death.[327.3] Dr.\nBrinton tells us that \u201cthe custom of common ossuaries for each gens\nappears to have prevailed among the Len\u00e2pe\u201d; and he quotes Gabriel\nThomas as relating that \u201cif a person of note dies very far away from\nhis place of residence, they will convey his bones home some\nconsiderable time after, to be buried there.\u201d The Nanticokes buried\ntheir corpses for some months, and then, taking up the bones, they\ncleaned them and deposited them in a common ossuary. When they removed\nto another place these bones were carried with them.[327.4] Common\nossuaries were very usual among the North American tribes; and in the\nOhio mounds is evidence that the {328} custom dates back to a\nconsiderable antiquity.[328.1] These are only a few of the examples\nthat might be given. It is thus by no means necessary that the entire\nbody should be buried in the common ground: the bones only were\nsufficient. But sometimes it is not practicable to bury the whole\nskeleton; nor is it necessary. If what is done to a detached portion\nof the body be done to the whole, all that is necessary is to make a\nselection. The bones usually chosen are those of the skull; the\nreasons for the choice being probably those which determine the choice\nof the skull as a keepsake, according to a custom considered a few\npages back. When the Samoans made war at a distance from their homes,\nthey brought back, in returning, the skulls of their dead to the\nancestral graves.[328.2] Among the villagers of the Wanyika, in the\nhighlands of Eastern Africa, the head is dug up some time after\ninterment and sent to the capital to be buried, for there was formerly\nthe general cemetery of the whole tribe, and there still its councils\nare held.[328.3] It is the custom of the Greeks and the Orthodox\nAlbanians, as of the Bretons and other European peoples, to dig up the\nbones after a certain period of burial, wash them in wine, and deposit\nthem in an ossuary. But, because the Albanians lead a migratory life,\na large proportion of the male population dies abroad. \u201cThe bones of\nthese wanderers are afterwards collected and sent home; or, at any\nrate, a portion of them--a skull or a single bone--is brought back to\ntheir native place.\u201d[328.4] Among the {329} ancient Romans a bone of\nsuch as died abroad or in war was sent home to the relatives for\nburial. This usage was expressly recognised by a law of the Twelve\nTables which abolished in all other cases the pre-existing custom of\ncutting out a bone in order to bury it when the rest of the body was\nburnt.[329.1] At the cremation the hot ashes were extinguished in\nwine, collected by the relatives and deposited in an urn in the\ngrave-chamber. At Kalna, near Calcutta, is a place called Sam\u00e1j Bati,\nwhere a bone of every deceased member of the family of the Rajah of\nBardwan is deposited.[329.2] Various tribes of Bengal, among which are\nthe Santals, Oraons and Garos, ultimately commit some of the burnt\nfragments of bone to the river, where they are carried down by the\ncurrent to the far-off eastern land whence, if we may trust the\nnational traditions, their ancestors originally came, thus \u201cuniting\nthe dead with the fathers.\u201d Instances, we are told, have been known of\na Santal \u201cson following up the traces of a wild beast which had\ncarried off his parent, and watching, without food or sleep, during\nseveral days for an opportunity to kill the animal, and secure one of\nhis father\u2019s bones to carry to the {330} river.\u201d[330.1] The Kh\u00e1si of\nAssam, on the other hand, place the ashes in the family\nbone-receptacle; and it is worthy of note that those of husband and\nwife are never placed in the same, because they belong to different\nclans, and the ashes of the children are put in that of their mother.\nMajor Godwin-Austen says \u201cthat the collection of the bones into one\nvault, as it may be termed, is done under the impression that the\nsouls of the departed may all mingle together again in one large\nfamily without trouble or suffering. The idea of a member of a family\nbeing a wanderer in the other world, cut off from, and unable to join,\nthe circle of the spirits of his own clan is most repugnant to the\nfeelings of a Kh\u00e1si or Sinteng.\u201d Consequently great efforts are made\nto recover, even after the lapse of many years, the calcined bones of\nany member of the gens who may have died at a distance.[330.2] Some of\nthe Garos, neighbours of the Kh\u00e1si, seem to follow this custom, while\nothers put the ashes into the river like the Santals.[330.3] The\nBhumij of Bengal inter some of the unconsumed fragments of bone at the\nfoot of a tulsi-plant in the courtyard of the dead man\u2019s house, and\nthe rest in the original cemetery of the family. \u201cThe theory is that\nthe bones should be taken to the village in which the ancestors of the\ndeceased had the status of _bhuinh\u00e1rs_, or first clearers of the\nsoil; but this is not invariably acted up to, and the rule is held to\nbe sufficiently complied with if a man\u2019s bones are buried in a village\nwhere he or his ancestors have been settled for a tolerably long\ntime.\u201d[330.4]\n\nDr. Henrici brought from the Little Popo region of West {331} Africa\nto Berlin some Negroes, among whom was one who was a great favourite\nin the explorer\u2019s family. Unfortunately he died; and his brother, who\nwas with him, cut off, before burial, \u201ca lock of hair and some\nfinger-nail of the dead man to send to his parents in Africa in proof\nof his death.\u201d[331.1] Not merely in proof of his death was this done,\nas the newspaper reports; for here we have what is called \u201cthe Yoruba\ncustom of Ett\u00e1.\u201d It is practised by the tribes of the Slave Coast.\nWhen a man dies away from home the greatest exertions are made by his\nfamily to obtain something belonging to him, to be buried with the\nusual rites in his native place. Clippings of the hair and nails are\nusually carried home by his companions, if he have any. But these do\nnot constitute an irreducible minimum; for if they cannot be obtained,\na portion of his clothing is, as we might expect from our study of\nother superstitions, enough.[331.2] So among the Dyaks (who, it will\nbe remembered, have family mortuaries), if any one be murdered, eaten\nby a crocodile, or suffer some such misfortune, so that his body\ncannot be found, all his clothing obtainable is tied up in a bundle\nand buried.[331.3] Similarly, if a Kh\u00e1si corpse cannot be recovered,\nas would happen, for example, if he were drowned in one of the large\nrivers in the plains, his kinsmen assemble on some prominent rock or\nhill overlooking the low country. One of them, taking in his hand some\nmoney-cowries, \u201cand looking towards the site of the accident, shouts\nout the name of the deceased and calls on him to return; his spirit\nhaving been supposed to do so, they proceed to burn the cowries, which\nare symbolical of his bones, and any clothes {332} of the deceased\nthey may possess.\u201d The ashes are placed in the bone-depository.[332.1]\nWhen a Chinaman dies in battle, or at a distance from home, and his\nbody cannot be obtained, an effigy of paper or wood is made, his soul\nis summoned to enter it, and it is then buried by his family with all\nthe usual obsequies, as if it were his body.[332.2] In Samoa, if it\nwere impossible to recover the body, or at least (as we have seen) the\nskull, there was still a method left of performing the all-important\nrites for the dead. The relatives would go to the battle-field, or, if\nthe man had died at sea, to the shore, and, spreading a cloth or fine\nmat, would watch until some reptile or insect crawled upon it. They\nwould then quickly enclose the creature, take up the mat and bury it\nin the proper manner, as if they had the corpse.[332.3] The luckless\ninsect is, in fact, identified with the departed, in accordance with\nthe beliefs discussed in an earlier chapter.\n\nHere, though the subject be far from exhausted, we may terminate our\ninquiry concerning funeral ceremonies based on the conception of\nsacramental union, on the one side with the survivors, on the other\nside with the forefathers of the clan. They afford ample evidence that\ndeath, as the most solemn and mysterious fact of our existence, has\nexercised the thoughts of men from the remotest ages. When they arose\nthe idea of a soul or spirit, as distinct from its corporeal tenement,\nhad hardly yet been evolved. Reason, as well as feeling, could do no\notherwise than cling to the bodily relics of the dead. And still it\nclings, even in the highest plane of culture. And still--whatever\nhopes may linger in the recesses of the mind of reunion, in {333} some\nbrighter and more lasting state of being, with those whom we have\nloved--we cannot but cherish the relics left to us of their bodily\npresence and think of the departed as yet about us while we hold these\ntreasures; and there is consolation, albeit a dreary one, in the\nexpectation that when we can hold these treasures no longer, the dust\nwhich has been dearest will be that which mingles with our own.\n\n\n\n\n CHAPTER XIV.\n MARRIAGE RITES.\n\n{334}\n\nMarriage, or sexual union of a more or less permanent character,\nfrom the intimate connection which it creates, has obvious analogies\nto the admission of a new member into a clan. In early stages of\nculture it was not, however, deemed to constitute admission into the\nclan; and to the present day, in English law, husband and wife, though\nunited by the closest of all ties, are not reckoned among the next of\nkin to one another. Still it inaugurates a new relationship, not only\nas between the immediate parties, but also as between their respective\nkindred. As doing so, it is an occasion on which the consent and\nconcurrence of the kindred are required, and it is appropriately\nsolemnised by rites bearing a close resemblance to the blood-covenant.\nAn examination of some of these rites will be useful in strengthening\nour apprehension of the sacramental ideas of savages, and will help to\ncomplete our view of the savage conception of life.\n\nAmong several of the aboriginal tribes of Bengal a curious ceremony is\npractised. It is known as _sind\u00far_ (or _sindra_) _d\u00e1n_, and consists\nin the bridegroom\u2019s marking his bride with red lead. This ceremony is\nthe essential part {335} of the entire performance, which renders the\nunion indissoluble, in the same way as the putting on of the ring in\nthe marriage service of this country. The _sind\u00far_, or red lead, is\ngenerally smeared on the bride\u2019s forehead and the parting of her hair,\nbut sometimes on her neck. It is usually done either with the little\nfinger or with a knife.[335.1] In either case this detail is\nsignificant, because it points to the origin of the custom. There can\nbe no doubt that vermilion is a well-recognised symbol of blood. I\nhave already mentioned the primitive usage of daubing the stone which\nwas both god and altar with the blood of the sacrificed victim.\nEverywhere in India the idol, whether a finished simulacrum or a rude\nunchiselled stone, is dashed with vermilion. Sometimes the object of\nworship is a tree; and its stem in the same way is streaked with red\nlead. Sir William Hunter lays it down that the worship of the Great\nMountain, the national god of the Santals, \u201cis essentially a worship\nof blood.\u201d Human sacrifices were common, until put down by the\nBritish. At the present day, \u201cif the sacrificer cannot afford an\nanimal, it is with a red flower or a red fruit that he approaches the\ndivinity.\u201d[335.2] Nor is red as a symbol of blood confined to India.\nWe do not need to go further afield than the Roman Catholic Church, or\neven certain sections of the English Church, to find red worn in\necclesiastical ceremonies on the day of a martyr\u2019s commemoration,\nexpressly as an allusion to the outpouring of that martyr\u2019s blood. The\nuse of the colour in the wedding ceremony has reference also to blood.\n{336} Among the Dom, the Muchi, the S\u00e1nkh\u00e1ri and other Bengali\ntribes red is the bridal colour;[336.1] as it is likewise in China, at\nleast where the bride is a maiden.[336.2] In Ukrainia at a certain\nstage of the proceedings a red flag is hoisted and red ribbons adorn\nthe dresses of the bride and other members of the party. The meaning\nattached to them in this case does not admit of doubt;[336.3] and it\nmay be legitimately inferred in the others.\n\nBut the proof of the significance of the _sindra d\u00e1n_ rests not on\nthe antecedent probability afforded by the use of red in rites of\nworship and marriage. Among the B\u00edrhors the wedding ceremony is very\nsimple. It consists entirely in drawing blood from the little fingers\nof the bride and bridegroom, and smearing it on one another.[336.4]\nThe ritual, on the other hand, of the K\u00e1yasth, or writer caste of\nBehar, is as complex as that of the B\u00edrhors is simple; and it bears\nat every stage the marks of antiquity. After the bridegroom arrives\nwith his procession at the bride\u2019s house, but before he is allowed to\nsee her, her nails are solemnly cut. The opportunity is taken to draw\nfrom her little finger a drop of blood, which is received upon a piece\nof cotton soaked in red dye. Later on, after the bridegroom has\nformally rubbed her forehead with the _sind\u00far_, his neck is touched\nwith this piece of cotton; and the bride\u2019s neck is also touched with a\nsimilar piece brought by the bridegroom, but not containing any of his\nblood.[336.5] Here we seem to {337} have the ceremony in a double, if\nnot a triple form. The dye on the cotton would represent blood. Nor is\nit unimportant that the bridegroom having previously plastered the\n_sind\u00far_, which stands for his blood, on the bride, does not need to\nbring his blood into contact with her. Among the Kewat, another caste\nof Behar, the ceremony is also duplicated. After the _sind\u00far d\u00e1n_ a\ntiny scratch is made on the little finger of the bridegroom\u2019s right\nhand and of the bride\u2019s left. Blood is drawn from each and mingled\nwith a dish of boiled rice and milk; and either party then eats the\nfood containing the other\u2019s blood.[337.1] Similarly in the R\u00e1jput\nritual the family priest of the bride\u2019s household fills the\nbridegroom\u2019s hand with _sind\u00far_ and marks the bride\u2019s forehead with\nit. This is done on the first day. The next morning they are brought\ntogether, and each of them is made to chew betel with which a drop of\nblood from the other\u2019s little finger has been mixed. The bride is then\nconducted to the bridegroom\u2019s house, and the marriage is\nconsummated.[337.2] Among the Kharw\u00e1r blood mixed with _sind\u00far_ is\nexchanged, although what is now the final and binding act of smearing\nthe _sind\u00far_ is performed by the bridegroom alone.[337.3] The Kurmi\nbridegroom also touches the bride between the breasts with a drop of\nhis own blood, drawn from his little finger and mixed with lac-dye,\nprior to the performance of the _sindra d\u00e1n_.[337.4] Among the\nRauti\u00e1, as among the Birhors, the _sindra d\u00e1n_ is effected with one\nanother\u2019s blood taken from the little fingers.[337.5]\n\nThe meaning of the ceremony therefore cannot be mistaken. It is\nprecisely parallel to the blood-covenant: it {338} constitutes a\npermanent bodily union between the parties. Oriental scholars regard\nit as in origin Dravidian. It is, however, now practised also by the\nAryan Hindus, and its survival among many aboriginal tribes in a\ndouble form is ingeniously attributed by Mr. Risley to its readoption\nby them from the Hindus in the later form of smearing with vermilion,\nafter the connection between the red lead and the blood had been lost\nsight of.[338.1] It is certain that many customs have been taken in\nrecent times by the Dravidian populations from the Hindus; and the\ntheory of readoption is confirmed by the fact that the red lead is\nusually smeared only by the bridegroom on the bride, as if it were an\nact of ownership, whereas the blood-smearing is done by both parties.\n\nBeyond the limits of Bengal, blood is not often a prominent feature in\nmarriage rites. Yet some significant instances may be cited. We cannot\nreckon that of the ancient Aztecs among these. When, after the\nmarriage feast, the Aztec bridal pair retired to their chamber, it was\nonly to fast and pray during four days, and to draw blood from various\nparts of their bodies. The object of this bleeding, however, is said\nto have been the propitiation of their cruel gods. In fact, the idea\nof propitiation seems to have entered into the rite, and to have\nousted what probably was the original intention--that, namely, of\nsacramental communion with the divinities. Such communion with the\ndivinities may, of course, have been indirect communion with one\nanother; though there is not sufficient evidence to warrant our\nasserting that this was meant, and still less that direct communion of\nthe same kind was effected. But we are not left without {339} examples\nelsewhere. The ceremonies of the Wukas, a tribe inhabiting the\nmountains of New Guinea, are exactly in point. Their weddings begin\nwith an elopement, followed by pursuit and capture of both fugitives.\nThe next step is to bargain for the price of the bride. When this is\nsettled the marriage is performed by mutual cuts made by husband and\nwife in one another\u2019s foreheads, so that the blood flows. The other\nmembers of both families then do likewise--a proceeding, we are told,\n\u201cwhich binds together all the relations on both sides in the closest\nfraternal alliance.\u201d[339.1] The writer I am quoting does not, indeed,\nmention any daubing or exchange of blood; but it is clear that this\nmust be understood. On the island of Banguey, off the northernmost\npoint of Borneo, is a tribe of Dusuns. Mr. Creagh, the governor of\nBritish North Borneo, visiting them a year or two ago, found that\ntheir marriage-rite consisted in transferring a drop of blood from a\nsmall incision made with a wooden knife in the calf of the man\u2019s leg\nto a similar cut in the woman\u2019s leg.[339.2] An Annamite story points\nto a ceremony in which the blood was drunk. A husband and wife swore\nthat when one of them died the other would preserve the body until it\ncame to life again, and would not marry a second time. The wife died,\nand the husband kept her corpse for seven months. At length the\nvillage elders remonstrated, fearing that the dead woman would become\na demon and haunt {340} the village. Rather than bury his wife, the\nhusband arranged that they should help him to make a raft, and he\nwould put the body upon it and float with it whithersoever the winds\nand the waves would take him. The raft was borne to the eastern\nparadise; and there Buddha, touched by the man\u2019s story, raised his\nwife from the dead, and asked her if she loved her husband truly and\nconstantly. She vowed she did. Whereupon Buddha directed him to draw\na cupful of blood from his finger, and give it to her to drink: which\nwas done. It is sad to relate that after all this she proved\nunfaithful, and, when she died, was changed by Buddha into a mosquito,\nwhich is always sucking blood, but never can get enough to restore to\nher husband, in accordance with Buddha\u2019s command, the entire cupful of\nblood she had taken from him.[340.1] A tale from Mota, one of the\nBanks\u2019 Islands, relates that certain women, who desire to become the\nhero\u2019s wives, make him give them some of his liver to eat.[340.2]\n\nOn these two stories it would be easy to lay a stress greater than\nthey will bear. But if they have any meaning it is in the direction we\nare seeking. Coming to Europe, however, we find a tale where we are on\nfirmer ground. A Norwegian youth was curious to see if it were really\ntrue that the Huldren, or wood-women (a kind of supernatural beings),\noccupied the mountain-dwelling in the autumn, after it was deserted by\nthe family for the lowlands. The story runs that he crept under a\nlarge upturned tub, and there waited until it began to grow dark. Then\nhe heard a noise of coming and going; and it was not long before the\nhouse was filled with Huldre-folk. They immediately {341} smelt\nChristian flesh, but could not find the lad, until at length a maiden\ndiscovered him beneath the tub, and pointed at him with her finger. He\ndrew his knife and scratched her finger, so that the blood flowed.\nScarcely had he done it, when the whole party surrounded him; and the\ngirl\u2019s mother, supported by the rest, demanded that he must now marry\nher daughter, _because he had marked her with blood_. There were\nseveral objections to marrying a Huldre-woman: among others, that she\nhad a tail. But there was nothing else for it; and happily, when she\nhad been instructed in the Word of God and baptized, she lost the\nundesirable appendage, and made the youth a faithful and loving\nspouse.[341.1] Now it may very well be that the reason for compelling\nthis marriage is incomprehensible to the modern teller of the story,\nat least as a serious one. Yet the story can hardly have arisen and\nbeen propagated, with the incident in question as its catastrophe,\nunless a custom of marking with blood in connection with a wedding\nceremony had been known to the original tellers. The barbarous nature\nof the custom is indicative of a much lower grade of civilisation than\nthe Norwegian people have now, and long since, attained. And its\nascription to the Huldre-folk suggests that it was practised by a\nnon-Aryan race rather than by the Norsemen. It was certainly practised\nby the Finns; for a Finnish poem, entitled _The Sun\u2019s Son_, describes\nits hero\u2019s wedding ceremony in the following terms:--The bride\u2019s\nfather \u201cleads and places them on the whale\u2019s, the sea-king\u2019s, hide. He\nscratches them both on their little fingers, mixes the blood together,\nlays hand in hand, unites breast to breast, knits the kisses together,\nbans the knots that jealousy has conjured, {342} separates the hands,\nand looses the knots of the espousal.\u201d[342.1] The correspondence of\nthis rite with that of the aborigines of Bengal extends to the fingers\nwhence the blood is drawn; and it cannot be doubted that we have here\nin full the ceremony referred to in the Norwegian tale. It will be\nremembered that the Icelandic saga of the farmer who appropriated a\nfairy cow stops short in its description of the act with the drawing\nof blood. The story now before us has suffered a similar\ncurtailment.[342.2]\n\nIn other parts of the world we find red paint of some kind used\napparently as a substitute for blood. An Australian bridegroom in the\nneighbourhood where Sydney now stands used to spit on his bride, and\nthen with his right thumb and forefinger he took red powder and\nstreaked her all over the face and body down to the navel.[342.3] The\nCaribs are reported to have had no specific rites of marriage. But a\nfull-grown man would sometimes betroth himself to an unborn child,\nconditionally on its proving a girl. When this was done the custom was\nfor him to mark the mother\u2019s body with a {343} red cross.[343.1] This\nis an act hardly susceptible of more than one interpretation. The red\nmark over the mother\u2019s womb was no doubt originally made with the\nman\u2019s blood, and, since the child itself could not be reached, was the\nexpedient for effecting the union between him and the unborn infant.\n\nThe blood of a fowl often takes the place of that of the parties, in\nthe East Indies. Among the aborigines of Southern India a fowl is\nsacrificed at the threshold of the bride\u2019s room, and the foreheads of\nbride and bridegroom are marked with its blood; while among the\nK\u00e1h\u00e1y\u00e1ns of Borneo a cock and a hen are slaughtered, their blood\nreceived in a cup, and the happy pair are marked from head to foot\nwith it.[343.2]\n\nOut of many other ceremonies expressive of union I select for\nillustration that familiar to us in the Roman law under the name of\n_Confarreatio_. This solemn form of marriage took its name from the\ncentral rite, in which the man and woman seem to have eaten together\nof the round sacrificial cake, called the _panis farreus_. At all\nevents, in the corresponding Greek ceremony they partook together of a\nsesamum-cake. In one shape or other this rite is found in many lands,\nperhaps over the greater portion of the globe. It has been too often\ndescribed to need an extended notice here; but a few of its various\nforms may be mentioned, before we pass on to consider some of the\nanalogies between the effects of marriage and of the blood-covenant.\n\nWe may as well begin with the Santals, one of the tribes of Bengal of\nwhich I have already spoken. Among them the {344} couple to be married\nfast on the wedding-day until after the _sindra d\u00e1n_, when they sit\ndown together and eat. Colonel Dalton, in describing the custom,\nreminds us that it is the more remarkable because the Hindu husband\nand wife never eat together, and tells us that this meal is the first\ntime the maiden is supposed to have sat with a man at his food, and\nthat it \u201cis the most important part of the ceremony, as by the act the\ngirl ceases to belong to her father\u2019s tribe, and becomes a member of\nher husband\u2019s family.\u201d[344.1] Among the Santals, in fact, marriage is\nadmission into the kin. None but members of a kin have, we know,\ncommensal rights; and admission frequently takes the form of a\nceremonial common meal, which probably is a modification of the\nblood-covenant. Among the Khyoungtha, one of the Chittagong\nHill-tribes, the bride and bridegroom are tied together with a\nnew-spun cotton thread, and the _poongyee_, or priest, muttering\nprayers, takes a handful of cooked rice in each hand, and crossing and\nre-crossing his arms he gives seven alternate mouthfuls to each. Then\nhe hooks the little finger of the bridegroom\u2019s left hand into the\nlittle finger of the bride\u2019s right, and with some further mutterings\nthe ceremony is concluded. The Chukma, a neighbouring tribe, bind the\ncouple together with a muslin scarf; and in that position they have to\nfeed one another. Their hands are guided by the bridesmaid and best\nman to one another\u2019s mouths amid general hilarity.[344.2] Father\nBourien was present at several marriages of Mantras or wild tribes of\nthe Malay peninsula. According to his report, \u201ca plate containing\nsmall packages of rice wrapped up in banana-leaves having been\npresented, the husband offered one to his future wife, who showed\nherself eager to {345} accept it, and ate it; she then in her turn\ngave some to her husband, and they afterwards both assisted in\ndistributing them to the other members of the assemblage.\u201d In the\nfeast which followed the remaining ceremonies husband and wife ate\nfrom one dish.[345.1] Eating from one dish, or one leaf--a more\narchaic form of dish--is in fact the usual rite all over south-eastern\nAsia and the East Indian islands; and although the Hindu husband and\nwife now never eat together, the ancient ritual prescribed that they\nshould do so at the marriage ceremony.[345.2] Boiled rice appears to\nhave been the food, as it is in Dardistan at the present day, where a\ndish of rice boiled in milk is brought in, and the boy and girl take a\nspoonful each.[345.3] Married couples of Kafa, in the north-eastern\ncorner of Africa, are only allowed to eat out of the same dish and\ndrink out of the same horn or glass. And the etiquette is more\nrigorous than that of Sairey Gamp and Betsy Prig; for they are\nexpected to eat as well as to \u201cdrink fair.\u201d[345.4] The custom of\neating together as a marriage rite is recorded as in use by the\naborigines of the greater part of America. The simple ceremony is thus\nrelated in a Pawnee legend: \u201cHe entered his tent. She made a very good\nbed for him. She was sitting with him. She married him. She had food\nwith him. And the young men said as follows: \u2018Why friends, the chief\u2019s\ndaughter has married the Orphan.\u2019\u201d[345.5] It is the same among the\nPolynesians. On the island of Mangaia, in the Hervey Group, the pair\nsit to eat together in the presence of their friends on a single piece\nof the finest native cloth, just as in the {346} Finnish lay they sat\non the whale\u2019s hide, and at Rome they sat, during one portion of the\nproceedings, on the fell of a sheep which had been slain in\nsacrifice.[346.1] Among the tribes of New Guinea, when the bride is\nbrought to her husband\u2019s dwelling a dish of food is presented to them,\nout of which they both eat. In some cases a roasted banana is eaten\nhalf by the bride, the other half by the bridegroom.[346.2] So, after\ngetting into bed the South Slavonic bride from her bosom takes an\napple which has been given to her by the bridegroom in the course of\nthe day, eats one half of it and hands the other to him.[346.3] One of\nthe Epirote ceremonies is the eating of a cake made of flour, butter\nand cheese. It is cut into slices; and the husband taking one dips it\nin honey and eats, afterwards giving to his wife. This is repeated\nthrice. Then, after eating some fruit, a round loaf with a hole in the\nmiddle is brought to them. Putting their fingers into the hole, they\npull against one another until the loaf is torn in two; after which\nthey and their nearest relatives eat it.[346.4] Bread and honey are\neaten together in alternate bites by a Greek, or an Albanian,\npair.[346.5] In the Obererzgebirge before setting out for church the\nbride and bridegroom eat from the same dish; and in some districts of\nThuringia they partake of soup from one plate.[346.6] In Provence, as\nalso in Esthonia, this is done after the return; and in Esthonia a\npiece of bread and butter, or a little bread with salt, is also\neaten.[346.7] At the same point {347} in the province of Berry,\nFrance, and in the Jura, a piece of bread and wine are offered to the\nyoung couple. The husband takes the first bite out of the bread; and\nhis example is followed by his wife.[347.1] The Wallon practice is for\nthe bride to eat half a tart and give her husband the rest: this\nensures his affection.[347.2] In the old Parisian marriage rite the\nbetrothal took place at the church-door. The priest then led the newly\nwedded into the church, and said mass. After mass he blessed a loaf\nand wine. The loaf was bitten and a little of the wine drunk by each\nof the spouses, one after the other; and the officiating priest then\ntaking them by the hands led them home.[347.3] In the celebration of a\nYezidi wedding a loaf of consecrated bread is handed to the husband;\nand he and his wife eat it between them. The Nestorians, their near\nneighbours, require the pair to take the communion.[347.4] Nor is this\nrequirement by any means confined to the Nestorians among Christian\nsects; and even until the last revision of the Book of Common Prayer\nthe Church of England herself commanded, in the final rubric of the\nsolemnisation of matrimony, that \u201cthe new married persons _the same\nday of their marriage_ must receive the holy communion\u201d:--a practice\nwhich continues to be recommended and is occasionally followed.\n\nMany of the foregoing ceremonies include a drink out of the same\nvessel. Either alone or accompanied by eating, it is usual from Italy\nto Norway, from Brittany to {348} Russia; and traces of it have been\nfound even in Scotland.[348.1] According to the old Lombardic laws no\nfurther ceremony was necessary to constitute a valid marriage than a\nkiss and a drink together. The Church long struggled against this\nrule, but was in the end obliged to sanction it, subject to the\ncondition that a priest should be present to impart the benediction\nand a \u201cspousal sermon.\u201d It has been adopted into the rites of the\nGreek Church in Russia, where the priest in the course of the ceremony\nsolemnly blesses a small silver ladle, called the Common Cup, filled\nwith wine and water, and holds it to the lips of the pair, who sip it\nalternately each three times. In the West of England there is evidence\nwhich a careful examination of ecclesiastical records would probably\nextend to other parts of the country that at the time of the\nReformation formal betrothals were usually performed by any\nrespectable friend of both parties. He joined their hands; they gave\ntheir faith and troth in his presence; and after the betrothal gift,\nor token, had been handed over, or else promised, or acknowledged as\nalready received, they kissed and drank together. This seems to have\nbeen considered as a binding union, though the banns and religious\nceremony generally followed shortly after. To this day in Hesse the\ncustom is preserved in the _Weinkauf_ (literally, wine-purchase), or\nassembly of relatives on both sides. At this assembly the conditions\nare fixed on which the bride is to be discharged from her native kin\nto enter the kindred and protection of the bridegroom. When these are\narranged {349} she drinks to her bridegroom in token of her consent,\nand both then drink out of the same glass. From that moment they are\nregarded as practically husband and wife; and it only remains to\nobtain ecclesiastical sanction for the union. This usually follows\nshortly after; and between the _Weinkauf_ and the wedding it was\nformerly not thought proper for a virtuous maiden to go out of\ndoors.[349.1]\n\nGoing eastward we may note a few out of many other instances. The\nloving cup is part of the Jewish and Armenian ceremonies.[349.2] Among\nthe Mohammedan Yusufzais of Afghanistan it is the bride\u2019s father and\nthe bridegroom that drink out of the same vessel;[349.3] obviously a\nchange of the earlier practice to suit the faith of Islam. In\nSingbh\u00fam, among the Hos and other tribes, the young couple are given\nbeer, which they proceed to mix, the bridegroom pouring some of his\ninto the bride\u2019s cup, and she in turn pouring from her cup into his.\nThey then drink, \u201cand thus become of the same _kili_, or clan.\u201d[349.4]\nRice is sprinkled over the heads of a Lepcha pair; they eat {350}\ntogether and drink _maru\u00e1_ beer out of the same cup.[350.1] Among the\nTipperahs of the Chittagong Hill districts, \u201cthe girl\u2019s mother pours\nout a glass of liquor and gives it to her daughter, who goes and sits\non her lover\u2019s knee, drinks half and gives him the other half; they\nafterwards crook together their little fingers.\u201d[350.2] The Annamite\nyouth and maiden being placed on either side of the ancestors\u2019 altar,\nthey help one another to drink, exchanging cups and then putting them\nback one on the other. This is said to be the relic of a very ancient\nrite which consisted in fitting together the two halves of a calabash,\nused no doubt for the drink.[350.3] It was the ancient custom in China\nfor bride and bridegroom to eat together of the same sacrificed\nanimal, and to drink out of cups made of the two halves of the same\nmelon, the bride drinking from the bridegroom\u2019s half and he from hers:\nthus showing, as we are expressly told in the _L\u00ee_ K_\u00ee_, \u201cthat they\nnow formed one body, were of equal rank and pledged to mutual\naffection.\u201d[350.4] At present, about Foochow, and possibly in other\nparts of the empire, the ceremonial drink is sometimes taken by bride\nand bridegroom out of the same goblet; where two are used they are\noften tied together with red cord.[350.5] In Korea the lady hands a\ngourd-bottle of rice-wine, adorned with red and blue thread to her\nspouse, and they drink together out of one little cup several times\nfilled by the bridesmaids who stand beside them.[350.6] And in general\nwe {351} may say that, as the eating from one vessel, so the drinking\ntogether, is found all over the East Indies, on the islands as well as\non the continent, and as far to the south as Fiji, save where in the\nEast Indian islands it is replaced by the parallel custom of chewing a\nquid of betel together.[351.1] Whatever shapes the practice takes,\nthey all resolve themselves into the thought presented on another side\nto us by the tale, said to be of Oriental origin, that on the first\nday Allah took an apple and cut it in two, giving one half to Adam and\nthe other to Eve, and directing each at the same time to seek for the\nmissing half. That is why one half of humanity has ever since been\nseeking its corresponding half.[351.2]\n\nBut here we must go a step further. The remains of the cake, which, in\nthe Roman ceremony of _Confarreatio_, seems to have been broken and\neaten by the bride and bridegroom, were distributed among the guests;\njust as our own bride-cake, after being cut by the bride and\nbridegroom, is shared with the entire wedding party. The ritual\ndistribution of cakes or drink is common in Europe from one end to the\nother. The Esthonian bride gives to each guest of the bread and salt\nwhereof she and her husband have just partaken.[351.3] At a marriage\nin the Ukrainian provinces a cake called the _korova\u00ef_ is made with\na number of formalities. Immediately before the bride is conducted to\nher husband\u2019s house this cake is solemnly cut. The moon which crowns\nit is divided between the happy pair; and the rest is distributed\namong the relatives in order of age, great care being manifested that\nevery one {352} shall have his due portion. The cutting and\ndistribution are performed with ceremonies showing the importance\nattached to the act; and we learn from an ancient song that it was\nformerly the custom to light a candle and search diligently every\ncorner to make sure that no one had been overlooked.[352.1] A bridal\npair of La Creuse, in the south of France, on arriving at their home\nfrom the church, find at the door a soup-tureen filled with a certain\nbroth or porridge, of which they are required to taste with the same\nspoon. The soup-tureen is then passed round to all the guests; after\nwhich a glass of wine is taken in the same manner, and the soup-tureen\nand wine-glass are broken to ward off witchcraft.[352.2] In\nCaltanisetta, Italy, the ritual food consists of toasted almonds and\nhoney. An eye-witness at a wedding some five-and-thirty years ago\ndescribes a boy, with a towel hung round his neck like a sacerdotal\nstole, who mounted the table, took a silver spoon, and after blessing\nthe basin in dumb show, tasted the sweet compound within it. The table\nwas then removed; and the boy carried round the basin, while the\nbride\u2019s mother put a spoonful of the almonds and honey in the mouth of\nevery one present, beginning with the happy couple, and wiped their\nlips with the towel.[352.3] As with other rites already referred to,\nthis is one regarded not only among comparatively civilised peoples.\nBackward races, as convivial in their instincts as the most\nenlightened, join indeed in feasting on these occasions; but they also\njoin in ceremonially partaking with the newly-made spouses of a\nspecial article of food or drink. Such is the Mantra rite already\nmentioned; {353} such also is the striking ceremony of the Sar\u00e1ogi\nBaniy\u00e1s, referred to in a previous chapter, at which a Brahman is\nslain in effigy and the contents of the figure shared among the\nkinsmen present. It will be enough to recall two others. Among the\nGaros of North-eastern India the married couple complete their wedding\nfestivities by each drinking a bowl of rice-beer and presenting a cup\nto every guest.[353.1] On the Kingsmill Islands bride and bridegroom\nare led to their hut by an old woman who spreads for them a new mat of\ncocoa-palm leaves, and makes around them a circle of cooked\npandanus-fruits. Of these she takes two and hands them to the pair,\nhaving first called on the goddess Eibong to take them under her\nprotection, and bless their union richly with children. When these two\nfruits have been eaten the others are divided among the relatives and\nfriends, who are waiting outside to receive them.[353.2]\n\nThe meaning of this extension of the rite must be interpreted by its\nmeaning when limited to husband and wife, and both by reference to the\nrites of kinship. It is not merely assent to the marriage on the part\nof the guests. It is indeed that; but assent, though, as we shall see,\nvery necessary, may be obtained and given in other ways. To understand\nits full force we must turn back to some of the examples I have cited.\nBy sitting and eating with her husband, the Santal maiden \u201cceases to\nbelong to her father\u2019s tribe, and becomes a member of her husband\u2019s\nfamily.\u201d The Ho and the M\u00fanda bride and bridegroom, drinking the\nblended liquor from their two cups, become of one _kili_. But the\nwoman who enters her husband\u2019s _kili_, or clan, {354} becomes related\nto all its members. Becoming of one flesh with him, she becomes of one\nflesh with all of his kindred. This is implicitly recognised among the\nAmils of Sindh, where the bridegroom and all his female friends are\nmarked with vermilion by the officiating Brahman.[354.1] Among the\nBodos and the Kochh of Bengal it would seem to be the rule for two\nwomen to accompany the bridegroom and his friends in their procession\nto the bride\u2019s house. These women it is who, penetrating to her\napartment, anoint her head with oil mixed with red lead, prior to her\nbeing presented to her husband.[354.2] Conversely, the Santal\nbridegroom in some districts, after reaching the bride\u2019s village, is\nstripped by her clanswomen, and by them bathed and dressed in new\ngarments properly stained with vermilion.[354.3] When, among the M\u00e1l\nPah\u00e1ri\u00e1s, the bridegroom has daubed the bride with _sindur_, the\ncompliment is returned not by her but by her maidens, who adorn his\nforehead with seven red spots.[354.4] The analogy to the\nblood-covenant is in these cases carried to the point of identity. The\nsame may be conjectured with some probability to be the effect of\nmarriage on the island of Bonabe in Micronesia, where the wife is\ntattooed with the marks representing her husband\u2019s ancestors.[354.5]\nEllis describes the female relatives of a bride and bridegroom in the\nSociety Islands as cutting their faces, receiving the flowing blood on\na piece of native cloth, {355} and depositing the cloth, \u201csprinkled\nwith the mingled blood of the mothers of the married pair, at the feet\nof the bride.\u201d And he tells us in so many words that the rite removed\nany inequality of rank that might have existed between them, and that\n\u201cthe two families to which they respectively belonged were ever\nafterwards regarded as one.\u201d[355.1]\n\nBut even when marriage does not amount to reception into the kin, it\nconstitutes a quasi-relationship with the entire kindred; and the\nceremony initiates, or at least expresses, this. A crude instance is\nafforded by the Wukas of New Guinea, already cited. A hideous rite\nsusceptible of no other interpretation is performed by the Kingsmill\nIslanders immediately upon the consummation of a marriage; and a\nsimilar one is mentioned by a Chinese traveller at the end of the\nthirteenth century as taking place in Cambodia.[355.2] On Teressa, one\nof the Nicobar Islands, a pig is killed and the faces of the guests\nare smeared with its blood.[355.3] Here the pig\u2019s blood is doubtless a\nsubstitute for that of the bridal pair. In the south of India the\nWadders use for the wedding feast the rice which has been poured over\nthe new husband and wife: a practice to which a similar intention must\nprobably be ascribed.[355.4]\n\nFor the effect of marriage is to give the kindred of the husband or\nthe wife new rights over the person of the spouse. There are in Europe\nsome very general usages pointing to the rights which must once have\nbeen exercised by the husband\u2019s kin over the wife. Among the\nEsthonians, {356} when the bride has at length been brought into the\nbridegroom\u2019s house a repast is served, and the day is concluded with a\ndance, wherein all the guests in turn dance with her, for which she is\nentitled to a piece of money from each of them.[356.1] The custom of\nthe Polish inhabitants of the Prussian province of Posen is the\nsame.[356.2] Du Chaillu witnessed a similar wedding dance in\nDalecarlia, Sweden. It appears to have taken place in the bridegroom\u2019s\nfather\u2019s house.[356.3] In the Tirol, and among the Masurs, the bride\nhas to dance the Bride-dance with every one of the guests. In\nTransylvania she begins with the _beistand_, or best man; and after\nevery dance she must drink a glass of wine with her partner, who\nthrows a piece of money into a plate ready for the purpose.[356.4]\nAmong the Wends, every male guest is expected to dance with the bride,\nformal permission being first obtained from the _brautf\u00fchrer_. The\nbridegroom, and this is an important point, is sent away the while;\nand the dances are continued until midnight, when he is brought back.\nThey take place, unlike the Dalecarlian ceremony, in the bride\u2019s\nhouse.[356.5] In the Lowlands of Scotland, after the wedding ceremony,\nwhich was usually performed at the bride\u2019s residence, she was expected\nto go round the room with her bridesmaids and kiss every male in the\ncompany. \u201cA dish was then handed round, in which every one placed a\nsum of money, to help the young couple to commence\nhousekeeping.\u201d[356.6] Dr. Gregor describes a similar dance as {357}\nperformed in the north-east of Scotland. It was opened by the bride\nand her best maid dancing with the two _sens_, officials sent by the\nbridegroom on the wedding morning formally to demand the bride. The\ndance began and ended with a kiss, and when it was over the bride\nfixed a favour on her partner\u2019s right arm, and the bridesmaid one on\nher partner\u2019s left arm. \u201cThe two _sens_ then paid the fiddler.\nFrequently the bride and her maid asked if there were other young men\nwho wished to win favours. Two jumped to the floor, danced with the\nbride and her maid, and earned the honour on the left arm. Dancing was\ncarried on far into the morning with the utmost vigour, each dance\nbeing begun and ended by the partners saluting each other.\u201d[357.1] At\nBourges it was the custom for brides on coming out of church to\nembrace indifferently all whom they met in the street; and still in\ncountry places of the province of the Marche the practice is said to\nbe followed, with the variation that it is done before the marriage\nservice. Generally in the province of Berri the guests after the feast\napproach in turn and deposit an offering (formerly gifts in kind\nproper for setting up housekeeping), receiving in return a kiss from\nthe bride.[357.2] In the valley of Pragelato, near Pinerolo, the\nfestivities are held in a large outhouse, the rooms in the house being\nusually too small. The bride is the first to enter. She stands on the\nthreshold, holding a platter covered with a small cloth. Every one\nentering, without distinction of age, embraces {358} and kisses her,\nand drops a piece of money clinking under the cloth.[358.1] Similar\ncustoms obtain in other parts of Italy, sometimes repeated more than\nonce during the festivities.[358.2] The bride-dance is also practised\nin Provence. And at the village of Fours, near Barcelonnette, on\nleaving the church the bride is conducted to a rock (possibly, an\nerratic boulder) called the Bride-stone, whereon she is made to sit\nwith one foot in a certain hollow of the rock. While in this position\neach of the relatives and guests comes in turn, kisses her and gives\nher a ring.[358.3]\n\nWe must look back to savage customs to discover the origin and meaning\nof the European rites I have here set forth; and I think we must\nconnect them with those of the Nasamonians mentioned by Herodotus, the\nAuziles, an Ethiopian tribe mentioned by Pomponius Mela, and the\nBalearic Islanders, among all of whom in ancient times the bride was,\non the wedding-night, considered as common property.[358.4] The\ninformation we have about these peoples is meagre and fragmentary.\nAbout the Kurnai of Australia, however, we have full and precise\nstatements, extending, far beyond the act of marriage, to all their\nconnubial relations. Their only recognised form of marriage was by a\nspecies of elopement or capture, performed with the aid of the other\nunmarried youths of the tribe. With all these youths the unfortunate\nbride had to observe the Nasamonian rite. She then went off with her\nnew husband. This process {359} had to be repeated once, if not twice\nagain, before her relatives could be got to sanction the match; and\nmeantime both bride and bridegroom incurred their wrath, which was\nmuch more than a mere form. But when once the elopement had been\ncondoned, if the bride had an unmarried sister, it is said that she\nalso would be handed over to the husband; and in any case on his\nwife\u2019s death he had a right to her. Moreover, on his death, his widow,\nif he left but one, went by right to his brother; if more than one,\nthey went to his brothers in order of seniority. If the wife ran away\nfrom her husband with another man, \u201call the neighbouring men might\nturn out and seek for her, and in the event of her being discovered,\nshe became common property to them until released by her husband or\nher male relatives.\u201d Further, the husband was obliged to supply his\nwife\u2019s parents with the best of the food he killed; but on the other\nhand he was free to hunt over their country as well as the country of\nhis own ancestors.[359.1]\n\nIn considering these particulars we must remember that the\nconstitution of society among the Australian aborigines is in process\nof transformation. They had a system of group-marriage, whereby every\ntribe consisted of certain classes, all exogamous. Their table of\nprohibited affinities is highly complex, and need not be here\ndiscussed. It is enough to say that the members of each class were\nlooked upon among themselves as brothers and sisters; but {360}\ntowards the class into which they could marry they were husbands and\nwives; and they were entitled to act accordingly whenever they met any\nmembers of the latter class. No sexual relations were permitted with\nany other class. The system has been in a state of decadence--greater\nin some tribes, like the Kurnai, less in others--from a time probably\nanterior to the English settlement. A custom had arisen, it matters\nnot from what causes, of appropriating one woman, or more, to one man.\nThis custom, if not interfered with, would have issued in the\nevolution of a different idea of kinship, and ultimately of the true\nfamily. In group-marriage the wives were not regarded as akin to the\nhusbands. Marriage was the status into which husbands and wives alike\nwere born. The union required no ceremonies to its consummation,\nbecause no relationships were changed by it. But with the rise of\nmonopoly by individuals of one another, the unappropriated women would\nbe kept at a greater distance from the men, and the act of\nappropriation would gradually assume a ceremonial form. The kindred\nwould be called upon to take part in it, both as assistants and as\nwitnesses. From Mr. Howitt\u2019s account it seems likely that the\nevolution would be in the direction of patriarchal clans. If so, the\nwoman would be introduced by marriage into a special relation with her\nhusband\u2019s kin. The exogamous classes would ultimately be effaced; a\nnew idea of the clan would supersede them; and the act of marriage\nwould at length operate as admission into the clan.\n\nNow it is clear from Mr. Howitt\u2019s statement that, by the marriage,\nrights were acquired on the part of the husband\u2019s kin in the wife and\non the part of the wife\u2019s kin in the husband. The decaying system\nwould doubtless at that {361} stage operate to permit only members of\nthe husband\u2019s class to take part in the capture of a bride, or of a\nrunaway wife; and they would as yet be all reckoned of his kin. The\nrights they then exercised would afterwards be held in abeyance; but,\nsubject to the husband\u2019s monopoly, those rights would survive, to\nreappear upon his death, if not upon any other occasion in his\nlifetime. The gradual circumscription of the kindred, by the\nrecognition of closer ties than those of the exogamous class, is\nindicated by the duty laid upon the husband to supply his wife\u2019s\nparents with food, as well as by the limitation to his brothers of the\nright to his widows. The peoples referred to by the classical writers\nI have cited were probably in the stage in which group-marriage had\ndied, or was dying, out in favour of individual unions. The bride was\nhardly yet conceived of as taken into the kindred. The Nasamonian\nhabits in particular, as recorded by Herodotus, appear little, if at\nall, advanced beyond those of the Kurnai. Both among the Nasamonians,\nhowever, and the Auziles it was the practice for each of the guests\nwho had taken part in the rite to reward the bride with a gift, just\nas among European peoples the bride is rewarded for her dance or her\nkiss: an indication that her compliance was becoming something more\nthan the guests could demand,--something they had, therefore, to\npurchase. This does not appear to have been the case with the Balearic\nIslanders: at least Diodorus Siculus, who mentions the custom, says\nnothing about any gift. A similar usage is reported by Garcilasso of\nsome of the aborigines of Peru at the time of the Spanish conquest.\nHere we are expressly told what we may probably assume to have been\nthe case among the Nasamonians, namely, that it was only the relatives\nand friends of the bridegroom {362} who shared in the rite; and from\nthe historian\u2019s expressions we may infer that no payment was\nmade.[362.1] Nor is it found in an account of the marriages of the\nWa-taveta given by a lady who has recently travelled in Eastern\nAfrica. In other respects the Wa-taveta would appear to be somewhat\nhigher in the scale of civilisation than the Kurnai or the Baleares.\nThe bridegroom\u2019s friends are limited to four in number. The capture of\nthe bride, in which they aid him, is a mere ceremony followed by a\nfive days\u2019 feast, during which they participate in the Nasamonian\nrite.[362.2] More remarkable than any of these, however, as attesting\nthe rights of the bridegroom\u2019s kindred, is a custom of the Eesa and\nGadabursi, two of the western Somali tribes. When the bride enters the\nhut which is to be her new home, she is followed by the bridegroom and\nsome of his nearest male relatives. He takes a leathern horsewhip and\nwith it inflicts three severe blows upon his wife; and his example is\nfollowed by his {363} companions, \u201cwho by this act obtain ever\nafterwards peculiar rights and power over the bride, which her husband\ndare not dispute.\u201d[363.1]\n\nI might rest on these examples the case for the real meaning of the\nbride-dance and the kiss which the European bride bestows upon the\nguests (or rather, of course, on the masculine guests) at the wedding.\nBut it is not necessary to do so; for we find even in Europe a\npractice of which the significance is unmistakable. The most important\nofficial at a marriage among the Southern Slavs is the _djever_ (in\nGerman, _brautf\u00fchrer_) bride-leader, or bride-carrier. One only\nappears to be necessary, but commonly the bridegroom appoints two.\nThey are chosen from his own brothers, or adoptive brothers, or his\nmost intimate and trusty friends; or the chief _brautf\u00fchrer_ may be\nhis godfather. Adoptive brotherhood and godfatherhood are very sacred\nties, at least as close as natural relationships; and the duties they\nimpose are rarely violated. It is for this reason that such persons\nare selected for the office of _djever_. For the _djever_ is allowed\nto relieve the tedious festivities of the wedding (and Slav weddings\nare tedious indeed) as often as he likes by kissing the bride and\ntaking other liberties with her. And in the Bocca and Herzegovina,\nwhen the night at length arrives, he sleeps beside her \u201cas a brother\nwith a sister\u201d; or if there be two, they both occupy the room with\nher. The latter custom is now falling into disuse; and the _djever\u2019s_\nplace is taken by the bridegroom\u2019s mother and sister, the happy man\nhimself not being permitted to obtain possession of his bride for two,\nor sometimes three, nights.[363.2] It needs {364} no words of mine to\ndrive home the conclusion that here we have a survival of a rite\nidentical with that of the Kurnai. The _djeveri_ are the\nrepresentatives of the entire band of the bridegroom\u2019s brethren and\nassistants, whose rights are concentrated in their hands. The\nconnection between this usage and those in other parts of Europe comes\nto the surface in the Wendish requirement that permission for the\nbride-dance be obtained from the _brautf\u00fchrer_.\n\nIf this conclusion be correct, the ancestors of the European nations\nmust have passed through a stage of society wherein group-marriage was\nthe rule, the groups on either side probably consisting of husbands\nreckoned, according to the standard of savage kinship, as brothers,\nand wives reckoned as sisters, among themselves. The limited\npromiscuity thus established would be entirely in harmony with--nay,\nit would be a consequence of--the conception of gentile solidarity\nwhich I have endeavoured to summarise in a previous chapter. This is\nwhat the late Mr. Lewis Morgan called the Punaluan Family. Starting\nfrom the kindred-names and customs of Hawaii, he traced it over a\nlarge part of the Old and New Worlds, and successfully vindicated its\nexistence against the criticisms of Mr. MacLennan. The most striking\npiece of evidence in favour of Mr. Morgan\u2019s theory that has come to\nlight since he wrote is perhaps to be found among the inhabitants of\nthe island of Tanna in the New Hebrides. Their rules of marriage and\nterms of relationship may be studied in detail in a paper by the Rev.\nWilliam Gray, read at a meeting of the Australasian Association, held\nat Hobart in January 1892, and published in the report of the meeting.\nIt will suffice here to say that in the laws and language of the {365}\nTannese no distinctions are drawn between a wife and a wife\u2019s sister,\nbetween a husband and a husband\u2019s brother; all a man\u2019s brother\u2019s\nchildren are his own; all his wife\u2019s children and his wife\u2019s sisters\u2019\nchildren are alike his; the relation of uncle or aunt and nephew or\nniece does not exist, for the person whom we should call uncle or aunt\nis recognised by a Tannese as his father or mother, or else the term\nis indistinguishable from those for wife\u2019s or husband\u2019s father or\nmother; in like manner the terms for nephew and niece are the same as\nthose for son-in-law and daughter-in-law; and the children of a man\u2019s\nfather\u2019s brothers, or of his mother\u2019s sisters, are regarded as his\nbrothers and sisters equally with the children of his own\nparents.[365.1] For such a condition of society any explanation is\nimpossible, unless it be that an entire band of brethren is--or was\ndown to a recent period, yesterday if not to-day--actually or\npotentially married to an entire band of sisters. The Punaluan Family\nis thus Australian group-marriage surviving into a somewhat higher\nstage of culture, but surviving, of course, in a more restricted form.\nThe sense of solidarity has become stronger, but more circumscribed.\n\nWhen in the progress of culture group-marriage began to give way to\nindividual appropriation, and inroads were made upon the totemistic\nclan, the clan-brethren would not immediately cease to be specially\ninterested in the marriage of one of their number. Their rights would\nnot be extinguished all at once; they would only become dormant. They\nmight never be exercised during the continuance of the marriage.\nProbably they never would be, at all events without the individual\nhusband\u2019s assent. {366} But, whether exercised or not, there the\nrights would be, ready to arise upon a favourable opportunity. Rights\nthus in abeyance would be likely to be exercised at the entrance upon\nmarriage, prior to the husband\u2019s sole ownership, if the assistance of\nthe clan-brethren were required to obtain the bride. They might be\nexercised also during the marriage, if the wife ran away and the\nclan-brethren helped to recover her. The opportunity for asserting the\nrights would come with the call for assistance.\n\nIn the most archaic period, such as may be represented for us by the\nKurnai, the assistance would take the form of physical force. But\nafter a while purchase began to supersede violence as the method of\nbride-winning, and capture dwindled to a form. The help of the\nclansmen would be equally required in purchase as in capture. I select\na few examples from different parts of the world. Among the\nNestorians, relatives and friends are called on to contribute to the\ndowry and wedding-dress given by the bridegroom to the bride, and the\npresents he has to make to her parents, as well as the expenses of the\nfeast.[366.1] The tribes of the Caucasus are divided into exogamous\nclans; and when a member of a clan marries, all the brethren\ncontribute to the ransom paid for the bride. Every member of a Kurdish\ncommune pays a share of the purchase-money. A similar collection is\nmade among the comrades of the Lithuanian bridegroom. In Ukrainia,\nbefore the bridegroom and his suite set out for the bride\u2019s dwelling,\neach of the suite is called upon by the best man to make a\ncontribution towards the sum which is afterwards paid to the brothers\nof the bride.[366.2] Among the Khonds of Orissa a {367} large price in\ncattle and money is paid for a wife; and this is chiefly subscribed,\nas among others of the aboriginal tribes, by the bridegroom\u2019s \u201cnear\nrelatives and his branch of the tribe.\u201d[367.1] The inhabitants of\nSumatra buy their wives; but the debt is often allowed to remain for\nmany years undischarged. \u201cSometimes it remains unadjusted,\u201d says\nMarsden, \u201cto the second and third generation, and it is not uncommon\nto see a man suing for the _jujur_ (or price) of the sister of his\ngrandfather.\u201d And he adds that \u201cin Passummah, if the race of a man is\nextinct, the _dusun_ or village to which the family belonged must make\nit good to the creditor.\u201d[367.2] This implies that the _dusun_ was\noriginally collectively liable for the payment. The Melanesian custom\nseems to be for the youth\u2019s kindred and friends to contribute to the\nsum he is called on to pay.[367.3] Among the Basutos a marriage is an\naffair of much concern to the relatives of the young people on both\nsides. The bridegroom\u2019s relatives furnish the cattle he gives for her,\nand go in a body to make the bargain and present the beasts.[367.4] On\nthe western continent the Araucanian aspirant for matrimony takes\ncounsel with his friends and relatives, who inform him what\ncontributions they are prepared to make towards the amount of the\npurchase-money. Among the Peguenches the relatives negotiate the\nmarriage and collect the articles of value to be paid for the\ndamsel.[367.5] In Guatemala the price was furnished by the\nbridegroom\u2019s clansmen.[367.6] In what is now Los Angeles County,\nCalifornia, {368} the male relatives \u201cproceeded in a body to the\ngirl\u2019s dwelling, and distributed small sums in shell-money among her\nfemale kinsfolk, who were collected there for the occasion,\u201d and who\nafterwards returned the visit and gave baskets of meal to the\nbridegroom\u2019s kindred.[368.1]\n\nFrom these examples, and many more might be cited, it is obvious that\nthe purchase was made by the clan, just as the capture was probably\nmade by the clan. And we might well expect to find that the clan, and\nnot merely the individual, acquired by the act rights over the bride,\nsuch as would be expressed in the rude Nasamonian custom, and in the\nBride-dance and other survivals of modern Europe. I have only space\nfor a few examples indicating community of wives or of husbands. But\nthe subject has been so exhaustively treated by anthropologists of\ndistinction that little more than a passing notice is needful. An\nobservation or two must, however, be made first of all, in reference\nalike to the examples that follow, and to those I have cited in\nprevious pages. When we read, whether in classical writers or in the\nworks of modern travellers, of community of women, we must always\nbeware of giving the words the meaning of absolute promiscuity. Very\nstrong evidence, and not merely that of writers imperfectly acquainted\nwith the language and customs of a savage people, is called for to\nestablish absolute promiscuity. But limited promiscuity among the\nmembers of a clan is a different matter. As a savage practice it is\nbeyond doubt; and I have already pointed out that it owes its origin\nto the solidarity of the kindred in the lower culture. We must fully\ngrasp the meaning of this solidarity if we would avoid the twofold\nchance of error in descriptions of savage life {369} and the\ninferences to be drawn from them. The chance of error too, it may be\nparenthetically observed, is not confined to marriage ceremonies, nor\nto the abiding customs of the conjugal relation; but we must guard\nagainst it on many other occasions, as for instance those described in\nthe last chapter. Travellers having but a superficial knowledge of the\npeoples they describe--especially in the days before savage kinship\nhad become the subject of scientific investigation--are not careful to\ndefine, because they do not understand, the relationship of members of\na tribe to one another. Their vague expressions \u201crelatives\u201d and\n\u201cfriends\u201d are therefore subject to interpretation by what has been\nascertained of clan-organisation, if we would avoid one source of\nerror. But there is a further consideration which ought not to be\noverlooked. The clan system has rarely been found complete and\nunimpaired. The evolution of civilisation is always modifying it,\nsometimes in one direction, sometimes in another. Consequently\nceremonies limited in theory to the clan-brethren display a constant\ntendency on the one side to limitation to the smaller circle of the\nfamily, as the family is evolved from the clan; and on the other side\nto extension among the intimate friends and relatives of the person\nchiefly concerned, as blood-relationship begins to be recognised\noutside the clan, and as the ties of friendship are knit between man\nand man regardless of kinship. Herein lies our other difficulty. The\ncriticism that the privileges we are discussing are not recorded as\nbelonging to the members of one group only, though it applies with\ngreater force to the instances mentioned by classical writers, who\nunderstood the gentile system, than to modern writers who do not\nunderstand it, is by no means enough to dispose of the evidence where\n{370} such record is wanting. Unfortunately we cannot cross-examine\nthe writers. We can, however, and we must, read their accounts by the\nlight of more accurate investigations. We shall then be inclined to\nadmit that most of the cases alleged are not referable to phallic\nworship, nor to an outbreak of indiscriminate licence occurring in the\nmidst of long-established monogamy, to which they are sometimes\nascribed.[370.1]\n\nTurning now to the privileges themselves, it must be remembered that\nwe have not to deal with cases in which polyandry is still open and\navowed, but to customs which indicate its former existence.\nGroup-marriage, like that of the Australians, the more limited\npolyandry of the Tibetan peoples, and the ruder polyandry like that of\nthe Nairs, whether it be the remains of a more savage and unorganised\nsociety before the rise of the clan, or a sporadic degradation of\nclan-marriage, may be studied in the writings of MacLennan, Morgan,\nand Robertson Smith. Group-marriage and Tibetan polyandry, indeed, we\nmust assume as the precursors of the state of barbarous culture where\nthe marriage is primarily between individuals, but in which the kin\nstill have certain rights over the spouse. And in dealing with the\nrights of the husband\u2019s kin we are not required to take into account\nwhether his marriage be polygynous or no.\n\nBearing these things in mind then, let us consider a few examples.\nAmong the Santals, it is said, \u201ca man\u2019s younger brother may share his\nwife with impunity; only they must {371} not go about it very\nopenly.\u201d[371.1] In dealing with women taken in adultery the main point\nconsidered by the Dhob\u00e1s of Orissa is whether the paramour be a\nmember of the caste.[371.2] For, while a slight penance is deemed\nsufficient penalty for such a lapse of virtue, and the husband by no\nmeans invariably insists on divorce, the offence committed with an\noutsider is incapable of atonement, and the offending woman is turned\nout of the caste. Here, although the limits of the _gotra_ are not\ncoextensive with those of the more venial sin, it is to be observed\nthat the Dhob\u00e1s all claim descent from a common ancestor, and they\neat and drink together indiscriminately. It is not considered any\noffence among the Bhuiyars of South Mirzapur for a married woman to\ngrant her favours to her husband\u2019s brothers. More distant relatives\nmust give a tribal feast; or, if the kindred be very remote, the\nparamour must repay to the husband the cost of her marriage.[371.3]\nSimilarly, in Southern India a Cunian woman who has been guilty of an\nintrigue with a lover of her own tribe is not disgraced thereby; and\nif her husband desire to get rid of her she will have no difficulty in\nfinding another.[371.4] Among the Thlinkits of North America a wife\nhas the privilege of selecting as her lover a brother or near kinsman\nof her husband; and such a man is required to contribute towards her\nmaintenance. On the other hand, a seducer who is no relation may be\nslain by the outraged husband, or compelled {372} to submit to a heavy\nfine.[372.1] The right loosely described by Herodotus as exercised by\nthe Massagetai over other men\u2019s wives must probably be understood as\nlimited to kinsmen.[372.2] In the island of Timor a brother made by\nthe blood-covenant coming to the house of one of the brothers of the\nsame covenant or clan \u201cis in every respect regarded as free and as\nmuch at home as its owner. Nothing is withheld from him\u201d: not even the\nwife. \u201cAnd a child born of such a union would be regarded by the\nhusband as _his_.\u201d For, as Dr. Trumbull appositely comments, \u201care\nnot--as they reason--these brother-friends of one blood--of one and\nthe same life?\u201d[372.3]\n\nThe common meal, as we have seen, implies brotherhood. The rites of\nhospitality among many nations constitute a temporary brotherhood, and\nconfer on the guest many of the privileges of a kinsman. This, it\nseems reasonable to think, may have been the ground of that widely\nextended custom of offering the host\u2019s wife to his guest. The custom\nis too well known to require more than a passing reference. Nor do I\npropose to give more to another custom, that, namely of the exchange,\ntemporary or permanent, of wives. Where it is not dictated by mere\noccasional wantonness, but is a regular institution, it is usually\nlimited to brethren of the blood. These cases may not go very far: to\nunderstand the true value of their evidence they must be placed side\nby side with cases where the husband\u2019s prior right is determined\neither by his death or divorce. Among the Arabs, if a man divorced his\nwife, his heirs had a right to take her. \u201cThat implies,\u201d as Professor\nRobertson Smith points out with unanswerable force, \u201cthat the kin had\nan interest in {373} the woman\u2019s marriage even while her husband\nlived, and that their interest became active as soon as he divested\nhimself of his special claims on his wife. In short, the right of the\nheir is a modification of the older right of kinsmen to share each\nother\u2019s marriages; and as soon as the exclusive right conferred on the\nhusband by more modern law ceases and determines, whether by marriage\n[? death] or divorce, the older right of the kin revives.\u201d[373.1]\nAlthough it does not appear that a similar privilege is exercised by\nthe kindred among the Bengali tribes, their rights over a woman are\nusually guarded by the requirement that divorce can only take place\nwith the consent of a council of relatives or a _panchayat_ of the\nvillage or caste.[373.2] It is generally admitted now that the\ninstitution of the Levirate is traceable to polyandry wherein the\nhusbands were united among themselves by the ties of blood. The\nLevirate was an institution deeply rooted in Hebrew polity,\nconsecrated, if we may believe the traditions preserved in the most\nancient Hebrew book now extant, by divine sanction under the\ntremendous penalty of death, and even in historic times enforceable by\nthe public disgrace of a man who refused compliance.[373.3] It has\nonly become obsolete among the Jews in Europe during the last three\ncenturies, while those of Palestine still hold to it.[373.4] When a\nman died married but childless, leaving brothers, it was the duty of\nthe eldest of the survivors to take the widow {374} and beget issue\nfor the deceased; nor was any form of marriage necessary between him\nand her. The same rule was prescribed in the _Laws of Manu_ to the\nHindu Aryans. There a brother or some other kinsman, not merely of a\ndead man, but also of a man who, in consequence of disease or\nmutilation, was incapable of himself begetting issue, might be\nappointed for the purpose; and the reason is expressly declared in the\n_Apastamba_ to be that the bride is given to the husband\u2019s family, and\nnot to the husband alone. Moreover, logically following out the idea\nof solidarity, Manu declares that if only one among brothers have a\nson, all have male offspring through that son; and conversely, if only\none of all the wives of one husband bear a son, all are mothers of\nmale children through that son.[374.1] If a Malagasy die childless,\nhis next younger brother \u201cmust marry the widow to keep his brother in\nremembrance; the children of such marriages being considered as the\nelder brother\u2019s heirs and descendants.\u201d[374.2] The Basuto custom is\nthe same.[374.3] But the Levirate is only a specialised form of a more\ngeneral rule. It was developed when society had passed into the\npatriarchal phase, in order to preserve due succession. It shows how\nstrong the feeling of solidarity of the kindred was. And that the wife\nwas not regarded as no more than heritable property is brought into\nclear relief in the Hebrew and Hindu laws, where cohabitation ceased\non the birth of a boy. Though this limitation be not observed by the\nMalagasy and Basutos, at least we cannot forget that the children\nbegotten by the levir (that is, the man who took the widow) rank as\nhis brother\u2019s, and are entitled to his brother\u2019s property. If the wife\nwere {375} simply inherited, both she and the children she afterwards\nbore would become the property of the man to whom she passed.\n\nOmitting as equivocal the numberless and widespread instances where\nthe heir takes possession of his predecessor\u2019s wives with the rest of\nhis property, we may take note of some whose interpretation is less\nopen to question. Usually among the aboriginal people of Bengal the\nyounger brother, or cousin, of the deceased husband has the first\nclaim on the widow, a claim which must be released before she is at\nliberty to wed any other person. The cases are few where, as among the\nSantals, the consent of the younger brother\u2019s first wife must be\nprocured; and they only exist where such consent would be necessary in\nany case to his second marriage.[375.1] Several tribes of the\nNorth-west Provinces practise the custom. Indeed, it seems usual among\nthe aborigines over the greater part of India; and frequently no\nceremony of any kind is necessary. Where, as among the J\u00e1ts of the\nPanj\u00e1b, a ceremony is performed, it is of the simplest kind. The\nhusband\u2019s brother simply throws his scarf or cloak over the widow\u2019s\nhead.[375.2] If a J\u00e1t youth die betrothed, but before consummating\nthe marriage, his father can claim the girl for another son, or, in\ndefault of a son, for any male relation in that degree.[375.3] A\nvirgin widow among the Baiswars of South Mirzapur can be married, but\nit is usual to give some remuneration to the family of the deceased\nhusband.[375.4] When a Habura is sentenced to a long term of\nimprisonment, or is transported for life, his {376} wives are taken by\nhis brothers.[376.1] In the Hindu Koosh, while a man\u2019s property passes\nto his children, his brother takes the widows. It is disgraceful to\nrefuse them; and they can marry nobody else without the consent of\ntheir husband\u2019s brothers.[376.2] An Afghan ought to marry his\nbrother\u2019s childless widow. If any other man offer first it is a grave\ninsult to him.[376.3] Among the Ostiaks and other Turanian tribes, a\nyounger brother is bound to marry his elder brother\u2019s widow.[376.4] On\nthe island of Sumatra, while the inheritance descends to the sons, the\nbrothers in order of age have a right to the widow married by _jujur_,\nor purchase. In the event of their declining her successively they may\ngive her in marriage to any relation on the father\u2019s side, the person\nwho takes her replacing the deceased. If she marry a stranger, the new\nhusband may be adopted into the family to replace the deceased, or she\nmay be married by purchase, as the relatives please.[376.5] On the\nadjacent island of Nias one of the sons may marry all the widows save\nhis own mother; and if no son exercise this right, they pass to a\nbrother. If they do not marry they must be maintained by the family of\ntheir dead consort.[376.6] On Engano a man in marrying pays the value\nof two hundred cocoa-nuts to the bride\u2019s family. Yet he does not\nthereby acquire her for himself. On the contrary, he becomes part of\nher family; and if she die and he marry again, an indemnity must be\npaid to her relatives. If he die, however, {377} the widow must offer\nherself to his brothers; nor can she wed any one else until they have\nrefused her.[377.1] The widow of a Gilbert Islander is taken by his\nsurviving brother into his own hut, and she can then marry no one\nelse.[377.2] A bachelor or widower among the Andaman Islanders is\nexpected to marry his brother\u2019s widow; and the term _brother_, as in\nmost savage lands, includes what we call a cousin. Of the property of\nthe deceased the widow retains as much as she requires for her\npersonal use, dividing the rest between his male relatives.[377.3]\nAmong the Sihanaka, one of the aboriginal tribes of Madagascar, a\nwidow is stripped and in various ways ill-treated for several months,\nand only allowed to return home to her own kindred after having\nobtained a formal divorce from her husband\u2019s family.[377.4] In Africa,\nindividual property is hardly recognised by the Krumen of the Grain\nCoast: almost everything is possessed by the family community. When a\nKruman dies his wife passes over to his brother or some other near\nrelation. An Orom\u00f3 widow can only marry with the consent of her\nhusband\u2019s brother. A Zulu is obliged to cohabit with all the widows of\nan elder brother. Among the Tedas in Sahara, if an affianced\nbridegroom die before completion of the marriage, his place is taken\nby his brother or nearest kinsman.[377.5] On the Slave Coast a younger\nbrother was formerly compelled to marry the headwife of his elder\nbrother deceased, while the subordinate wives devolved with the rest\nof the inheritance on the sons. {378} Compulsion has now become\nobsolete; but the headwife still resides with her husband\u2019s relatives;\nand if she marry any other man than her first husband\u2019s brother, the\nsecond husband repays to the relatives (apparently not to the heirs as\nsuch) of the first the amount originally paid for her.[378.1] In\nNatal, when a Kafir dies, \u201cthose wives who have not left the kraal\nremain with the eldest son. If they wish to marry again, they must go\nto one of their late husband\u2019s brothers.\u201d Children born of such a\nmarriage, however, belong to the son.[378.2] On the western continent\nthe Thlinkit, among whom we have already found traces of\nclan-marriage, require the eldest brother or nephew to marry the\nwidow.[378.3] In Guatemala, where, as we know, the kindred of the\nhusband bought the wife, she passed over into her husband\u2019s clan, and\nwas taken on his death by his brother or her stepson.[378.4] Among the\nHidatsas it is a common practice for a man to marry his brother\u2019s\nwidow; but apparently this is subject to her consent.[378.5] When one\nof the Blackfeet, or one of the Omahas, died, his wives became the\npotential wives of his eldest brother, while his property passed to\nhis sons, though a few horses were generally given to his\nbrothers.[378.6] An Ojibway widow may be taken by her husband\u2019s\nbrother, or apparently by any one of the clan; and this is sometimes\ndone at the grave by the ceremony of walking her over it, in which\nevent she {379} is not required to undergo the terrible ordeal of\nmourning. Or she has a right to go to him, and he is bound to support\nher.[379.1] The Miwok of California destroy the property of the dead;\nbut the eldest brother is entitled to the widow.[379.2] The Aztecs\nregarded it as a duty to marry a brother\u2019s widow; and the reason given\nis that her children, if she had any, might not remain fatherless--a\nreason, however, which would not apply where she had none.[379.3] In\nSamoa, where property belonged to the kin, one of the brothers, or\nsome other relative, took the wife; and her children were taught to\nregard him as their father. The reason here alleged was the desire to\npreserve the woman and her children to the family, whose number and\ninfluence were thus maintained.[379.4] In New Caledonia, where the\nproperty seems to descend to the eldest son, the husband\u2019s brother is\nbound to marry the widow.[379.5] In the Loyalty Islands she could not\nmarry again without the consent of her first husband\u2019s family.[379.6]\nA Tasmanian woman became common property; but she might be given in\nmarriage again.[379.7] In some at least of the islands of New Britain\nalso, a widow became common property;[379.8] and a similar custom\nseems to have been followed by the Eskimo.[379.9] The natives of the\nwest of Victoria divided the property of a departed tribesman equally\namong his widow and his children; but it was his brother\u2019s duty to\nmarry the widow if she had offspring, because he was bound to protect\nher {380} and rear the children. He seems to have been at liberty to\nmarry her also if she were childless.[380.1] The duty or the right of\na deceased husband\u2019s brother to take the widow seems, in fact, to be\ngeneral among the aborigines of Australia, and to be wholly\ndisconnected with the right of succession to property. And the\nevidence that it is a survival of group-marriage is confirmed by the\ncustom of the Gippsland tribes, which, there is reason to believe,\nsanctioned the occasional cohabitation of a single man with his living\nbrother\u2019s wife, and of a married man with his wife\u2019s sister. \u201cA man\nspoke of his sister-in-law as _puppar-worcat_, which means _another\nwife_; and when a wife died her sister not infrequently took her\nplace.\u201d In Europe, among the Moslem Albanians the sons succeed to the\nproperty, but the brother has a right to the widow with or without her\nconsent. Nor can she marry any one else in the same village save with\nhis consent. If, however, she marry into another family, her husband\u2019s\nheirs are entitled to half the dowry. The brother of an affianced\nhusband who dies is entitled to the bride on paying additional\ndowry.[380.2] A trace of the right of a surviving brother to the widow\nis perhaps found among the Scandinavians; and the conjecture derives\nsome support from the conduct imputed to Frigg, the wife of Odin, who\nis accused by Loki of laying her husband\u2019s two brothers in her\nbosom.[380.3]\n\n{381}\n\nI have mentioned some cases in which payment for the widow who marries\nout of her husband\u2019s kin, is made to the kin. A few others may be\nadded. This is the custom of the Toaripi, Dori, and Koiari tribes of\nNew Guinea. If she belong to the first-named tribe she remains with\nher husband\u2019s relatives until her second marriage, only when she has\nchildren; if she belong to either of the latter she remains, whether\nwith or without children.[381.1] In Kulu, Lad\u00e1k, the widow could be\nsold by her husband\u2019s relatives into a second marriage; but so long as\nshe did not quit her husband\u2019s house she was at liberty to keep a\nparamour.[381.2] Among the Smoos of Central America we are told that\nwidows are the property of the husband\u2019s relatives, to whom\n\u201cwidow-money\u201d must be paid before they are allowed to marry.[381.3] In\nthe western provinces of China, Mr. Cooper tells us, when a widow\nsignifies her intention of marrying again, her deceased husband\u2019s\nrelations generally dispose of her to the highest bidder; but she\ncannot be forced to marry against her will: by which I understand that\nit rests with her to say whether she will marry or not; but if she\ndecide to marry, her deceased husband\u2019s relations have the right to\ndetermine whom she shall marry, and to receive the bride-price.[381.4]\n\nThe foregoing examples all show the wife as bound to the husband\u2019s\nkin. The right of a man to his wife\u2019s sister, either in his wife\u2019s\nlifetime, or after her death, or, as it is found among some races, the\nright of a woman to share her sister\u2019s husband even in her lifetime,\nis equally widespread. I have incidentally alluded to it as practised\nby the {382} Gippsland tribes of Australia. Among the North American\nIndians, who preserve many traces of mother-right, the usage was\ncommon. The Blackfeet regarded all the younger sisters of a man\u2019s wife\nas his potential wives. If he did not care to marry them they could\nnot be married to any other man without his consent.[382.1] Among the\nRoot-Diggers of California to a whole family of sisters the happy\nhusband often added their mother; and the Seminole and Carib customs\nwere the same. The Pawnee who had married an elder sister might demand\nall the younger ones as they arrived at maturity. An Osage was obliged\nto wait two years after his first marriage before demanding another of\nthe same family; and after complying with this demand the parents\nmight refuse him any more. Among the Hidatsas, as probably among other\ntribes, the wife\u2019s sisters included her cousins according to our\nreckoning. A Mutsun wife would often press her husband to wed her\nsister or even her mother.[382.2] An Omaha can marry three wives, who\nare generally related. Sometimes a wife invites her husband to wed her\nsister, her aunt or her niece, because \u201cshe and I are one\nflesh.\u201d[382.3] Among the Sioux and some other tribes the lover would\nattach to another man\u2019s tent as many horses as corresponded in value\nto the daughters he desired to marry; and if the proposition were\naccepted they were all married at once.[382.4] In other cases it seems\nthat marriage with one daughter only gave a right of preemption over\nthe others.[382.5] Among some of {383} the tribes of Guiana the\nhusband has to wait until his first wife is dead before marrying her\nsisters.[383.1] Similar regulations are found among the aborigines of\nBengal. In many of their tribes a man may marry two sisters; but, in\naccordance with the rule as to marriage of a widow with a deceased\nhusband\u2019s brother, the second wife must be a younger sister of the\nfirst, not an elder. A second sister, however, cannot always be\nmarried during the lifetime of the first.[383.2] Among the Todas a\nwoman became wife to several brothers, and her younger sisters, on\nattaining maturity, became successively her fellow-wives.[383.3] An\nOstiak is allowed to take several sisters.[383.4] In the _Laws of\nManu_ it is provided that, \u201cif, after one damsel has been shown,\nanother be given to the bridegroom, he may marry them both for the\nsame price.\u201d[383.5] This refers, of course, to two damsels in the same\nfamily. Among the Somali of Eastern Africa a widower commonly marries\nhis deceased wife\u2019s sister.[383.6] On the other side of the continent\na folktale from Angola represents the eldest of four sisters as\nreplying to an offer of marriage: \u201cVery well. Thou shalt marry me, if\nthou marriest us all, the four of us. If thou thinkest that thou wilt\nhave me alone, the eldest, thou canst not marry me. It must be that we\nmarry our one man, the four of us in the fourhood of one mother.\u201d And\nthe gallant had no choice but to fall in with her terms.[383.7] In\nhistorical times the Israelites were forbidden to take a {384} woman\nto her sister to be a rival to her in her lifetime;[384.1] but the\nmore ancient practice, if we may judge by the legend of their\neponymous hero as well as by analogies in other parts of the world,\npermitted it. Under supernatural guidance the Church has bettered the\nprohibition, so as to prevent the posthumous vexation of a wife by the\nsuccession of her sister to her husband\u2019s affections, and has been at\npains to give it the logical extension to marriage with a deceased\nhusband\u2019s brother, in the very teeth of the divine institution of the\nLevirate. It would be profane to call a bargain the provision whereby\nthe English bishops once compounded for the sin of assenting to a\nnobleman\u2019s union with his deceased wife\u2019s sister, by condemning all\nsuch unions for the future. Among the heathen Hovas of Madagascar the\nfirst wife might at any time be divorced, unless she allowed her\nhusband to marry her younger sisters and younger cousins. A Gilbert\nIslander had a right to dispose of his wife\u2019s younger sisters.[384.2]\nIn Samoa a younger sister often accompanied the bride and became an\ninferior wife to the bridegroom.[384.3] On the island of Mangaia, \u201cif\na man of position married the eldest girl of a slave family, the\nyounger sisters became his as a matter of course, being only too glad\nto have a protector. Even amongst those of equal rank a man often had\ntwo or three sisters to wife at the same time. Even now, in Christian\ntimes, a woman feels herself to be deeply injured if her\nbrother-in-law does not, on the death of his wife, ask her to become a\nmother to his children.\u201d[384.4] How greatly it is to be regretted that\nthey who have professed to christianise these poor, {385} benighted\nPolynesians have disregarded the Church\u2019s canon against such\nmarriages, and permitted so-called Christian homes to be contaminated\nby the presence of a deceased wife\u2019s sister in the capacity of wife!\n\nUntil group-marriage had practically passed away, and society had\norganised itself into true clans, there could be no actual reception\nof the wife into the kin. We must therefore not look to so archaic a\ncondition as group-marriage for rites of reception, or for the\nresulting status of the wife. Where the clan has been most completely\norganised, we may expect to find its results most logically carried\nout; and some of the most logical results will often remain even when\nsociety has passed into a still higher development. So it was in Rome,\nwhere the wife entered into the _familia_ of her husband, or, if her\nhusband had a father living and were still in his power, into that of\nher husband\u2019s father. Her offering, on the day following her marriage,\nto her husband\u2019s Penates seems to have been a solemn initiation, in so\nfar at least as that had not been effected by the ceremonies of the\n_confarreatio_. This is also the meaning of somewhat similar rites\nperformed by a bride in Ukrainia on entering her new home, where she\nis first welcomed by all the female neighbours of her bridegroom\u2019s\nfamily,[385.1]--and of many ceremonies of the same kind elsewhere,\nnotably the Brahman rites in India. A Chinese married woman is taught\nto regard her husband\u2019s parents and his remoter ancestors in every\nrespect as if they were her own; while she ceases, on the other hand,\nto have any but a secondary interest in her own relatives. According\nto Confucius the very object of marriage was to furnish those who\nshould preside at the sacrifices, among {386} which a prominent place\nis given to the ancestral offerings. This was indeed expressed in the\nformula of demand for the hand of a maiden in ancient times. And just\nas at Rome the bride offered sacrifices to her husband\u2019s Penates, so\nin China, on the day after the wedding, she prepared and presented a\nsucking-pig to her husband\u2019s parents, and when they had done eating\nshe finished what was left.[386.1] In this way among the polite\nChinese the union of the bride with her husband\u2019s parents is signified\nand completed. I have already mentioned the Santali and other customs\nof Bengal, as well as that of the more barbarous islanders of Bonabe,\nwho tattoo the wife with marks representing her husband\u2019s ancestors.\n\nSometimes a man on marrying was received into the clan of the wife. It\nis now generally recognised that the words \u201cTherefore shall a man\nleave his father and his mother, and shall cleave unto his wife: and\nthey shall be one flesh\u201d could have originated only at a period when\nit was customary for a husband to go and dwell with his wife\u2019s kin:\nthat is to say, before the development of the patriarchal system on\nwhich the Hebrews in later times were organised. Professor Robertson\nSmith suggests, ingeniously and with probability, that the expression\nimplies \u201cthat the husband is conceived as adopted into his wife\u2019s\nkin\u201d; for, as he has previously pointed out, both in Arabic and in\nHebrew (notably in the priestly legislation of the latter) the word\nfor flesh is equivalent to _kindred_ or _clan_.[386.2] Residence is\nindeed one of the tests of kindred. But it is only one, and by no\nmeans a conclusive one. For this reason the stories of Isaac\u2019s\nmarriage and those of Jacob cannot safely be cited in support of {387}\nthis suggestion. The curious incident of the bargain with Shechem is\nmore to the point; for in that case a rite was to be undergone which\nwould have the effect of making Shechemites and Israelites \u201cone\npeople.\u201d If, however, we find cases of marriage where not only does\nthe husband dwell with his wife and her family, but his property and\nearnings also go to them, or are shared in common with them, this will\nbe further evidence of reception into the kin. Among the Kochh a man\nis taken on marriage to live with his wife and her mother, and all his\nproperty is made over to her.[387.1] The Bayaga, a tribe of dwarfs in\nEquatorial Africa, require the husband to live with his wife\u2019s family,\nand all the produce of his hunting belongs to them. He may, however,\nreturn to his own community and take his wife, but only when he has a\nson, and that son has killed an elephant. And then he leaves the son\nbehind to fill the place of the daughter taken away.[387.2] This\nappears to be an instance of the archaic system of mother-right in\nprocess of decay. Neither the case of the Bayaga nor that of the Kochh\ngoes quite far enough to be decisive. The North American Indians had\ncustoms in their various tribes, which exhibited almost all gradations\nbetween the complete absorption of the husband in his wife\u2019s clan, and\nthe last stages of dissolution of the system of mother-right. Without\ndiscussing them we may turn to two examples in the East Indies where\nthe matter is put beyond doubt. According to Brahman law the wife now\nenters the _gotra_ {388} of her husband. The ceremonies are very\nelaborate, and include of course a solemn procession on the\nbridegroom\u2019s part to fetch the bride. He is formally welcomed first by\nthe bride\u2019s father, and then by her mother. Follows a rite which, if\nit mean anything, is a survival of reception into the wife\u2019s kin once\npractised either by the Aryan invaders of India, or the aboriginal\ntribes with whom they intermarried. It is called \u201c_Satusi_ or the\nseven lights of Hymen. Seven married ladies (including the bride\u2019s\nmother or, if she be a widow, one of the bride\u2019s aunts) in their best\nattire, each with a small torch made of _chita_-twig and cotton\nsteeped in oil, go round the bridegroom in succession, led by the\nbride\u2019s mother, who carries on her head a _kul\u00e1_ or flat\nbamboo-basket, on which are placed twenty-one small lights made of\n_dhatura_-fruits. As they go round, they sprinkle libations of water,\none of them blows a shell-trumpet, and all vociferate the hymeneal cry\nof _ulu-ulu_. After going seven times round the bridegroom, the lights\nare thrown one by one over his head, so that they fall behind him. The\n_kul\u00e1_ is then picked up and placed in front of the bridegroom, and\nthe bride\u2019s mother takes her stand upon it, and touches the forehead\nof the bridegroom with water, paddy and _durba_-grass, betel and areca\nnut, white mustard-seed, curds, white sandal-paste, vermilion, a\nlooking-glass, a comb, a bit of clay from the bed of the Ganges, a\nyak\u2019s tail, shells, a cluster of plantains, and certain other odds and\nends, while the rest of the women keep up the cry of _ulu-ulu_. The\nbridegroom\u2019s height is measured with a thin thread, which the bride\u2019s\nmother eats in a bit of plantain. She then places a weaver\u2019s shuttle\nbetween his folded hands and ties them together with thread, and calls\nupon him, now that he has {389} been bound hand and foot, to bleat\nonce like a sheep to signify his humility and subjection. Last of all,\nshe touches his breast with a padlock and turns the key, whereby the\ndoor of speech is closed to the passage of hard words against the\nbride.\u201d[389.1] Later accretions are obvious here, but the substance of\nthe ceremony is ancient and can only be explained in one way. In\nSumatra there was an old form of marriage, which has been prohibited\nfor a century past, called _ambel anak_. A man thus married paid no\nmoney to the wife\u2019s father, but entered his family on the footing of a\nson. He became entirely separated from his own kin, who renounced all\ninterest in him, and he lost his right of inheritance. All his\nearnings belonged to his wife\u2019s family, who became liable to any debts\nhe might contract after marriage and responsible for his crimes, just\nas his own family were before. His wife\u2019s family might divorce him, in\nwhich case he went forth naked as he came. The custom was evidently in\ndecay long before its abolition, for the husband\u2019s status was in some\nrespects hardly so good as that of a natural-born son, while on the\nother hand there were provisions for enabling him to redeem himself,\nhis wife and children, by paying her _jujur_ or bride-price, and an\nadditional sum for any daughters who had been born. But this could\nonly be accomplished with the goodwill of his wife\u2019s family, because\nhe was incapable of accumulating any property apart from the common\nstock of the family.[389.2]\n\nThe severance of the married person from the clan of which he or she\nhas been previously a member is, as might be expected, sometimes the\nsubject of a special symbol in {390} marriage ceremonies. Thus, among\nthe Santals, when the clothes of a married pair have been tied\ntogether (the symbol among many peoples of their union), burning\ncharcoal is pounded with the household pestle, and the glowing embers\nare extinguished with water. In this way the old household fire of the\nbride is, so far as she is concerned, put out for ever.[390.1] In\nNepal the Sinuw\u00e1r bride\u2019s parents wash her feet when they give her to\nthe bridegroom, and splash the water over their own heads. By doing\nthis they believe that they wash from her, and as it were take back,\nthe quality of membership of her original sept, and transfer her to\nthe sept of the bridegroom. On the next morning the bride washes the\nbridegroom\u2019s feet, and drinks the water, saying at the time that she\ndoes this as a sign that she has entered his sept, and is truly his\nwife.[390.2] Among the Wends there are traces of mother-right, though\nit is no longer the system on which their society is organised. The\nfirst night of marriage is always spent at the bride\u2019s house; and\nsometimes, it would seem, the bridegroom takes up his permanent\nresidence with his wife\u2019s family. On such occasions he bids a solemn\nfarewell, and says to his parents: \u201cHenceforth you will see me no\nmore, nor speak to me; for I am leaving you. Amen.\u201d[390.3] The\nseparation of a Chinese woman from her family on marriage is so\ncomplete, that when she returns home on a visit, no brother, nor even\nher father, may sit with her on the same mat, nor eat with her from\nthe same dish.[390.4] The Marri of Manbhum do not even allow their\n{391} married daughters to enter the house.[391.1] Among the R\u00e1jputs\na married daughter may never return to her father\u2019s house without his\nspecial leave. He is not likely to send for her, because he must then\ngive her a fresh dower. Conversely, neither he nor any of her near\nelder relations may go to the village whereinto she is married, nor\neven drink water from the village well; and though more distant\nrelations taboo not the whole village, they may not eat or drink from\nher husband\u2019s house.[391.2] Among the Hebrews a priest was forbidden\nto defile himself for the dead, except for his own kin. His married\nsister was not one of these, only a sister \u201ca virgin which hath had no\nhusband.\u201d A stranger outside the priest\u2019s kindred, though his guest or\nhired servant, was not permitted to eat of the heave-offering of the\nholy things. If a priest\u2019s daughter were married to a stranger, she\ncould not eat of it. But in this respect her separation seems not to\nhave been absolute; for if she were divorced or became a widow, being\nchildless, and so returned \u201cunto her father\u2019s house as in her youth,\u201d\nshe might \u201ceat of her father\u2019s bread.\u201d[391.3] The change of kin was so\nmarked among the Romans that one of their lawyers explained the word\n_soror_, a sister, as \u201c_quasi scorsum nata_, because she is separated\nfrom the family wherein she was born, and passes to another.\u201d[391.4]\n\nWhen the consequences of marriage are the severance from the family or\nclan of one of its members, and the union of that member to another\nfamily or clan, so as to become one flesh with it, and hardly less\nwhere, though the member in question be not lost to the clan, a\nspecial relationship is about to be entered upon with the other {392}\nclan for the purpose of producing new members for it to the exclusion\nof the former clan, it is obvious that each of the two families, or\nclans, has a very important interest in the transaction. The marriage\nwould affect not only the two principals; it would extend to every\nmember of the family, or clan, diminished, and every member of the\nfamily, or clan, thus enlarged and strengthened. Such an interest as\nthis would entitle every member of both to be consulted; and their\nassent would be required to its validity. Such assent would be shown,\nas we have already noted, by the presence and assistance of the\nkindred at the act of marriage; or it might be signified by gifts.\nBut, however shown, it would in many cases have to be purchased by\ngifts. I have already mentioned a number of instances where the price,\nor dowry, of the bride is contributed by the bridegroom\u2019s kinsmen. We\nare about to deal with the converse case, wherein the price, however\nmade up, is divided between the bride\u2019s relatives.\n\nBride-purchase has been, at some time or other, practised almost all\nover the world; and where we do not find it still in all its ancient\nforce we frequently find the relics of it. As, in the progress of\ncivilisation, the bonds of the family are drawn tighter, the power of\nthe father over his children increases, and that of the more distant\nkinsfolk decreases. The substantial price in such cases is paid to the\nparent; and the other kinsmen are recognised only by a smaller,\nfrequently a nominal, present. Lastly, the gifts on both sides are\ntransformed into a dowry for the bride, and into wedding presents\nintended for the behoof of the happy couple. In various nations the\napplication of the marriage gifts is found in all stages of\ntransition, from the rudest bargain and sale up to the settlements so\ndear to {393} English lawyers, and the useless toys which the\nresources of the newest culture enable us to bestow upon our friends\non these interesting occasions, to assist their early efforts in\nhousekeeping. The examples following are drawn, of course, from\nconditions of barbarism when purchase prevails, or when survivals of\nits former practice have not yet been all swept away. Into the general\nquestion of the extent of the kindred whose assent is necessary in\nearly stages of civilisation I have no space to go. But incidentally\nwe shall find evidence that the entire clan must have had a voice in\nthe matter. Inasmuch, however, as this chapter has already trespassed\non the reader\u2019s patience to so great a length, I shall confine myself\nto a few of the more indisputable and pertinent instances. To attempt\nmore would be to travel over ground which it would be impossible to\nsurvey in a satisfactory manner, without a discussion interesting\nindeed to the student of institutions, but altogether disproportionate\nto the present work.\n\nAmong races whose customs point unimpeachably to the need of obtaining\nthe consent of the general body of the bride\u2019s kinsmen we may begin\nwith the Turanians. A bridegroom of the Hill tribes of Rajmah\u00e1l is\nrequired to present not only a turban and a rupee to his\nfather-in-law, and a piece of cloth and a rupee to his mother-in-law,\nbut also to several of the nearest relations.[393.1] Striking are the\nceremonies performed by two of the northern branches of this\nwidespread race. After the purchase-money has been agreed upon, but\nbefore it is paid, among the Kirghiz the bridegroom is allowed to\nvisit the bride. This is done by some tribes with great formality. The\nyoung man presents himself first to the oldest member of the bride\u2019s\nfamily, and {394} asks permission to pitch his tent at the encampment.\n\u201cThis request being granted, he distributes presents among the members\nof the family, and begs them to use their efforts in persuading the\nbride to pay him a visit in his tent. As success always crowns their\nefforts, the bride makes her appearance in the tent, where the young\ncouple are left alone. During this interview the marriage is\nconsummated, though the union is not yet formally consecrated. They\nare now bound to each other, and neither can withdraw from the mutual\nobligation they have contracted without being exposed to the vengeance\nof the injured party.\u201d Further presents are given to the relatives on\nthe formal celebration of the marriage after the purchase-money has\nbeen paid.[394.1] Among the tribes of Turkestan the wedding takes\nplace after the payment of the purchase-money to the father. Each\nparty is represented by two witnesses at the wedding ceremony, and a\n_mollah_ is employed to legalise the contract. All goes on smoothly\nuntil \u201cthe bride\u2019s witnesses suddenly raise some objection, pretending\nthat they are unwilling to deliver up the bride who is intrusted to\ntheir keeping, unless some suitable present is offered for renouncing,\non their part, the great treasure placed in their custody.\u201d Nor can\nthe marriage proceed until they are satisfied.[394.2]\n\nThe same part is played in Central Europe by the Wendish bridesmaids.\nThe bride awaits her bridegroom sitting at a table by herself. When\nhis procession arrives, the _brautf\u00fchrer_ advances to the table and\nbegs her politely to follow him to the wedding. The bridesmaids\ninterfere, and refuse to give her up without being paid for it: they\nmust have the whole table full of gold! After an {395} amount of\nhaggling, which depends on the persuasive powers of the damsels and\nthe wealth of the bridegroom, they are at length satisfied; and\nsometimes the business is not concluded until a considerable sum has\nbeen paid.[395.1] At an Ukrainian marriage, presents are made with\nritual formalities to every one of the bride\u2019s relations by name; and\na formal agreement is entered into by which the number, and even the\nvalue, of these presents is declared. Among the persons present are\nwomen who are strangers to the immediate family. When the presents to\nthe relatives have been settled, these women climb on a bench beside\nthe family hearth, taking a sieve which they beat like a tambourine,\nclamouring also for their share of the ransom. And the bridegroom is\ncompelled to throw some small pieces of money into the sieve for them.\nAs M. Volkov, in detailing the proceedings, says, it is clear that all\nthis represents a payment in respect of the bride for the benefit of\nher whole clan. Among the Bulgarians a like payment, distinguished\nfrom that to the father, is made in money for all the members of the\nfamily, or rather for the family-community. The father usually gives\nwhat he receives to his daughter by way of dowry.[395.2] The usage\nprobably differs to some extent in various parts of Bulgaria. In\nBessarabia the money paid to the father is used to defray the cost of\nthe bride\u2019s wardrobe, but clothing is also purchased for the bride\u2019s\nrelations. If I read the account correctly, the bridegroom also pays\nthe bride\u2019s mother a few ducats and presents articles of clothing to\nher sisters. Among other members of the South Slavonic stock the\ncustom likewise varies, but all agree in requiring {396} presents to\nbe made to all the near kindred of the bride. The minimum payment is\nset down by one reporter, writing of the practice in his own district,\nas twelve florins to the bride, ten to her father, two to her mother,\nsix to each of her brothers, and to the other relations seven florins\neach.[396.1]\n\nThe final difficulties on the part of the Wendish bridesmaids may be\ncompared with the conduct of the women of the bride\u2019s party at a\nmarriage of the Banks\u2019 Islanders. When the last instalments of the\npurchase-money have been paid, and the bridegroom\u2019s father and his\nparty, after the interposition of all sorts of difficulties, are on\nthe point of succeeding in obtaining delivery of the bride, the women\nstep in and refuse to give her up until an extra sum has been made\nover to them to induce them to let her go.[396.2] In Sindh also, as\nthe bridegroom is about to enter the nuptial chamber, his bride\u2019s\nsister, or a female cousin, opposes him and demands a gift of a few\nrupees, which he must pay ere he is allowed to pass.[396.3]\n\nA traveller in the earlier half of the last century relates that to a\nnative of Cape Coast the cost of his wedding was seldom more than an\nounce of gold among the bride\u2019s relations, two suits of new clothes\nfor the bride, and a fat goat and some palm-wine and brandy for the\nentertainment.[396.4] In the Zambesi basin to-day the matter is\narranged by \u201cthe so-called brothers or next of kin,\u201d who alone have\nthe right to consent, the father having no voice in the matter. But\nwhat, if anything, is paid to them as the price of their goodwill,\nbeyond a plentiful supply of pombe, {397} which is drunk together by\nthe brethren on both sides after the wedding, I am not able to\nsay.[397.1] It seems clear at all events that in many places the price\nmay be commuted for a feast, or a feast may be added to it, and after\nthe custom of purchase has died out the feast only may remain. So\namong the Arabs, for example, the stipulated sum which forms the dowry\nand belongs to the bride is paid to her father; but before the husband\ncan claim his rights he has to feast the maiden and her relations and\nfriends.[397.2]\n\nFurther illustrations are hardly needed. The custom may be summed up\nin the words of Professor Hickson, describing what he observed in\nMinahassa, Celebes, where women enjoy an exceptionally high position:\n\u201cIt might seem also that the _harta_ which is paid by the bridegroom\nfor his bride is of a similar nature to the price paid for a slave, a\nbeast of burden, or any other piece of property. The _harta_, however,\nshould not be considered as a \u2018price,\u2019 it has rather the nature of a\n\u2018compensation\u2019 paid to the bride\u2019s family for the loss of one of its\nworking and child-producing members.\u201d[397.3]\n\nThe subject of the ceremonies and institutions of marriage is one of\nprofound interest. It has engrossed the attention of many\nanthropologists and filled many volumes. The sketch, therefore, that I\nhave here attempted of only one aspect of the subject is obviously\nmeagre and imperfect. Yet I venture to hope that I have succeeded in\nthrowing some further light upon the savage conception of a kindred as\nan undivided entity--a conception which has survived in a more or less\ncomplete form into high planes of civilisation. Rites analogous to\nthat of the blood-covenant are found not merely to bind together {398}\nthe individual husband and wife, but to unite the incoming member to\nthe whole kindred. And although in the most archaic period whose\nremains are accessible to us it does not appear that these rites meant\nactual admission into the kin, their analogy easily lent itself to\nthat construction as the organisation of society into clans drew\ncloser and closer together, and especially as the patriarchal clan\ndeveloped; and marriage at length came in many cases to operate as an\nactual severance from one kin and an entrance into another. The reason\nfor the rights and privileges acquired by the whole kindred, alike\nwhether marriage operated as a blood-covenant or not, is founded on,\nand springs directly from, the conception of the kin as one body\nwhereof all the brethren were as literally members as the hand and the\nfoot are members of the physical body of each man. To graft a new\nmember upon such a body, or even to introduce a stranger into a\nspecial relation with a member of such a body, is to introduce him or\nher to a corresponding relation with all. Their rights may for the\ntime be overridden by the paramount claim of the member for whose\nspecial behoof the stranger is introduced--a claim enforced often by\nstrength, more often, perhaps, by custom; yet the moment the claim\nparamount is withdrawn, or suspended, the rights of the remaining\nmembers of the kindred arise and are capable of enforcement. They are\nsometimes also asserted on special occasions even against the claim\nparamount.\n\nSociety has developed, among almost all the higher races, into and\nthrough the patriarchal clan. Among many of the lower races who have\nnot, when brought into contact with European culture, already thrown\noff their original social constitution, a marked tendency to develop\nin the {399} same direction has been found. Consequently most of our\nillustrations have been drawn from a condition of things where the\nbride has been transferred to the bridegroom\u2019s home and has entered\ninto special relations with the bridegroom\u2019s kin. Of the converse case\nmany examples which might have been adduced are complicated by the\ndeveloping patriarchalism. Inquiry into these complications would have\nnecessitated a volume rather than a chapter. Hence I have been\ncompelled to pass over many a problem not only interesting but\nimportant to solve. But wherever I have found it possible to deal\nwithin the limits at my command with the case of a bridegroom entering\ninto special relations with the bride\u2019s kin, the same general\nprinciples have been observed to govern it.\n\n\n\n\n CHAPTER XV.\n THE COUVADE AND OTHER ILLUSTRATIONS OF THE STRENGTH OF THE\n BLOOD-TIE--CONCLUSION OF THE INQUIRY INTO THE THEORY OF THE\n LIFE-TOKEN.\n\n{400}\n\nIn the last three chapters we have discussed some savage customs\nfounded on the belief that the members of a kin are parts of an entire\nbody and connected with one another by an indissoluble tie, so long as\nthey remain members of that body and are not cut off by formal\nexpulsion or renunciation, either with or without union to another\nsimilar body. Many other practices are derived from the same notion. I\nselect a few of them for notice in the present chapter.\n\nProminent among them is the custom to which the name of the Couvade\nhas been given: a name too deeply rooted now to be changed, albeit one\nfounded on a mistake as to the use of the word and a limitation,\nuntenable on scientific grounds, though inevitable in the then state\nof our knowledge, to certain remarkable developments of the usage. Dr.\nTylor was the first to examine the custom in a critical manner. Since\nthe publication of his _Researches into the Early History of Mankind_,\nit has been considered by numerous anthropologists, notably by Dr.\nPloss, Dr. {401} Wilken, Mr. im Thurn, and more recently by Dr. von\nDargun and Mr. Ling Roth; while Dr. J. A. H. Murray in his letters to\n_The Academy_ has once for all disposed of the evidence for its\nexistence in modern Europe and for the use of the word by the\nB\u00e9arnese, or by any French writers of authority, as a technical term\nin describing the alleged B\u00e9arnese custom. Mr. Ling Roth\u2019s\ncomprehensive paper on the subject happily relieves me from the\nnecessity of dealing with it at length here.[401.1]\n\nThe Couvade as generally explained is the custom which requires the\nfather of a child, immediately after its birth, to lie-in as if he\nwere a woman in childbed, while his wife, who has actually given birth\nto the babe, goes about her ordinary work, and of course waits upon\nher husband in his feigned sickness. But this definition is inadequate\nand misleading. In order to attain a true conception of the custom it\nis not enough to limit our observation to a small number of cases and\nin those cases to regard only the most prominent phenomena, because\nthey strike us as the most ridiculous. We must clear our minds of the\nnotion that the father takes the mother\u2019s place, in the sense, at all\nevents, that he is made to undergo the treatment she is entitled to,\nand at her expense. Whether from living a more active and open-air\nlife than her more civilised sisters, or from physical causes more\ndeeply seated, the ease with which a savage woman gives birth is much\nmore like that of a wild beast. She will often deliver herself without\naid; and, subject to the ceremonial rules of the tribe concerning\n{402} uncleanness, in a very little time she is ready to return to her\nusual occupations. Simulation of her sufferings, not to say disregard\nof them, by the husband is therefore in most cases out of the\nquestion.\n\nMoreover, the lying-in of the husband, so far as it can be so termed,\nis only part of a large number of observances, by which he is bound,\nin the more fully developed forms of the custom, from the moment his\nwife conceives, or occasionally before, until the child is able to\nspeak, or to digest the usual food of the tribe; and in many of these\nobservances both before and after childbirth the wife is included;\nwhile she on her part is bound by other observances of a similar\ncharacter. Thus, Signor Modigliani, sojourning with a native of Nias\nwhose wife was in \u201can interesting condition,\u201d was the innocent cause\nof an amusing domestic squabble. For his host in leaving his room one\nday stepped across the traveller\u2019s outspread legs. This was a serious\nmatter, because it was apt to cause misfortune to the unborn child.\nThe wife did not fail to remind her imprudent husband of his folly,\nand carried her anger to such a height that he was glad to flee from\nthe blows administered by means of the firewood intended for the\ndomestic hearth. Nor was the quarrel made up without a gift from the\ntraveller of one of his bags of rice. While staying at the house\nSignor Modigliani frequently obtained from the natives by barter\nserpents for his collection; and this was a continual cause of\ndifficulties to his host, who was divided between his curiosity and\ndesire to assist at the transaction on the one side, and on the other\nhis dread of the consequences of seeing a dead snake--consequences\nonly to be averted by running away at once to find and burn a living\none. At length, however, Signor Modigliani {403} convinced him that it\nwould be enough, when he found a snake, to seize it and simulate\nburning by passing it over a fire kindled for the purpose, and then to\nkill it in some other manner, as by suffocating it in alcohol for\nscientific purposes. Other acts too the Niasese father-expectant must\navoid, as talking with Malays or Chinese, lest the child be unable to\nspeak his own tongue, splitting a piece of wood or the _atap_-leaves\nwherewith the houses are roofed, lest the infant be born with harelip,\neating of a pig found dead, lest the f\u0153tus be born without attaining\nproper development, killing or cutting up chickens or pigs, lest the\nbabe feel the wounds, eating of the great beetles of which the natives\nare very fond, lest the little one catch a cough. As reported by other\ntravellers, both parents must abstain before the birth from some of\nthese acts, as well as from passing over a spot where a man has been\nmurdered, or a buffalo slain, or where a dog has been burnt for the\npurpose of giving effect to certain imprecations, else the child will\nbe affected by the contortions of the dying man or beast. Nor dare\nthey build a house, or thatch it, nor drive nails; and before breaking\ntobacco or siri it must be drawn out of the bag which contains it, or\nthe babe cannot be born. They look in no mirror or bamboo-tube, lest\nthe child squint. They eat no _bujuwu_ (a kind of bird) or owl, lest\nhe croak or whoop instead of speaking. They touch no monkey, lest the\ninfant get eyes and forehead like a monkey\u2019s. They enter no house\nwhere a corpse lies, else he will die. They eat of no pig killed for a\nfuneral feast, lest he get the itch. They plant no _pisang_-trees,\nlest he suffer from ulcers. The consequence of eating a certain fish\nor striking a snake is indigestion to the child, of expressing or\nboiling-out oil is headache to him, of passing {404} over a place\nstruck by lightning is to make his body black, of firing a field for\nagricultural purposes, or throwing salt into the pig\u2019s food, or of\nswearing, is sickness to him; and to eat out of the vessel in which\nthe food is cooked is to cause the babe to adhere to the\nafter-birth.[404.1]\n\nThis long list exhausts not the prohibitions in force on the island of\nNias; but we may treat it as a sample not merely for that one island\nbut for many other places, and pass on to a few instances of rules\nimposed at and after the time of delivery. On the Melanesian island of\nSaa, both before and after the birth, the father \u201cwill not eat pig\u2019s\nflesh, and he abstains from movements which are believed to do harm,\nupon the principle that the father\u2019s movements affect those of the\nchild. A man will not do hard work; he keeps quiet lest the child\nshould start, should overstrain itself, or should throw itself about\nas he paddles.\u201d In the Banks\u2019 Islands when the child is born both\nparents eat only what it could digest. \u201cAfter the birth of the first\nchild, the father does no heavy work for a month; after the birth of\nany of his children he takes care not to go into those sacred places\ninto which the child could not go without risk.\u201d In the New Hebrides\n\u201che does work in looking after his wife and child, but he must not eat\nshell-fish and other produce of the beach, for the infant would suffer\nfrom ulcers if he did. In Lepers\u2019 Island the father is very careful\nfor ten days; he does no work, will not climb a tree, or go far into\nthe sea to bathe, for if he exert himself the child will\nsuffer.\u201d[404.2] Turning to the American continent, we will take the\nreport of the latest traveller in the interior of Brazil, Dr. Karl von\nden Steinen. Here let it be noted that the father is so far {405} from\nimitating childbed, that the mother is, all over South America,\nusually delivered on the ground, whereas the father lies in his\nhammock. So it is among the Sching\u00f9 Indians visited by Dr. von den\nSteinen. Their opinion was that the father lay in the hammock because\nhe was obliged to fast, and that he took care of the child because he\nwas obliged to remain at home, while the mother went out to her work,\nrather than from any intention to simulate the natural conduct of the\nmother. The father it is who cuts the navel-string; and he is not a\nfree man until the string falls off the child. By these and other\nAmerican peoples fish, flesh and fruit are tabooed to the father\nexpressly on the ground that for him to eat them is all one as if the\nbabe itself ate them. Among the Ipurina he is forbidden to taste\ntapir-flesh or pork for a whole year. On the other hand, what very\nmuch astonished the worthy apothecary of the Brazilian military\ncolony, the Boror\u00f3 father, when his child is sick, is in the habit of\nhimself taking the medicine provided for the patient. The Boror\u00f3\nfather and mother eat nothing for two days after the birth; and on the\nthird day they may only take warm water: if the father ate anything\nboth he and the infant would sicken. The mother, though she attends to\nher work, must not bathe until her menstruation has returned. The\nParess\u00ed parents remain in the hut for five days, until the\nnavel-string falls off; and the father is only allowed to taste water\nmingled with _beij\u00fa_, otherwise the baby would die.[405.1] The\nhumorous accounts of the practice among the Tamanacs and Abipones,\nquoted at length by Dr. Tylor from the Abate Gilij and the Jesuit\nmissionary Dobrizhoffer, need only be referred to here to emphasise\nthe reason given in {406} both cases, namely, that the abstinence\ndescribed is for the benefit of the offspring. To partake of certain\nfood, to kill any animal, to sneeze, or to commit some other act,\nwould injure the little one.\n\nReaders who have followed the facts and arguments in the earlier\nchapters of this volume set forth will have no difficulty in arriving\nat the true interpretation of the usage. It is founded on the belief\nthat the child is a part of the parent; and, just as even after\napparent severance of hair or nails from the remainder of the body,\nthe bulk is affected by anything which happens to the severed portion,\nso as well after as before the infant has been severed from the\nparent\u2019s body, and in our eyes has acquired a distinct existence, he\nwill be affected by whatever operates on the parent; and, conversely,\nthe parent will feel whatever happens to him, as in some parts of\nEngland a mother absent for a while from her child is believed to feel\nher breasts painful when he cries.[406.1] The separation is only in\nappearance; the connection is preserved in spite of it. Hence whatever\nthe parent ought for the child\u2019s sake to do or avoid before severance\nit is equally necessary to do or avoid after. Gradually, however, as\nthe infant grows and strengthens he becomes able to digest the same\nfood as his parents, and to take part in the ordinary avocations of\ntheir lives. Precaution then may be relaxed, and ultimately remitted\naltogether. But the observance is attended with inconveniences. The\nparents\u2019 labour is required in hunting, in agriculture, in warfare, in\nall the various ways in which the {407} life of a household or of a\ntribe is maintained. The custom therefore is liable to gradual\ndiminution. It is worn away slowly, and compressed into a shorter\nperiod. With the tardy and half-unconscious recognition of natural\nlaws it loses bit by bit its importance, until it fades away into\nlittle more than a ceremony. In spite of decay, however, and indeed in\nconsequence of it, it may acquire another significance; and among a\nfew tribes, as, for example, the Mundurucus, it becomes \u201cthe legal\nform by which the father recognises the child as his.\u201d This result\nwould have the effect of renewing its vitality. The change of\nintention is rare, and where the custom is found in its fullest\ndevelopment it is unknown. Accordingly, I venture with all respect to\nthink it is a mistake to see in this legal form the origin of the\nCouvade, as Dr. Tylor has done, plausible though the explanation\nseems. Its origin really lies deeper; it lies in the widely pervasive\nconception of life I have endeavoured to exhibit in these chapters on\nthe Life-token.\n\nThis mode of accounting for the practice may seem defective in that it\nfails to explain the martyrdom suffered by the Carib father, as\ndetailed by Du Tertre. After the unfortunate father has endured a\ncourse of fasting for forty days the relatives and best friends, we\nare told, are invited to a feast, which they preface by scarifying him\nwith agouti-teeth, and then having mashed in water sixty or eighty\ngrains of strong pimento, or Indian pepper, they wash his wounds with\nthe infusion. Not a sound, however, must be drawn from him by his\nagony, if he would not be deemed a coward and despised by all.[407.1]\nIn like manner, among the aboriginal inhabitants of Celebes, if the\nfirst-born be a son the mother bathes the child in the nearest\nwater-course, while the {408} father, fully armed and dressed in his\nfinest garb, awaits her return. In his turn he then goes to bathe, and\nwhen he steps out of the water his neighbours are waiting for him to\nbeat him with reeds all the way back to his dwelling. On arriving\nthere, he seizes his bow and shoots three reed arrows over the hut,\nsaying: \u201cI wish much happiness to my son: may he grow up to be a\nvaliant man.\u201d[408.1] I do not know whether the Carib ceremony was\nperformed on the birth of a girl, but the Minahassee ceremony is\nentirely omitted; and the extreme severities of the Carib fast were at\nall events confined to the first child. The object of the Minahassee\nfather is unquestionable; and from it we may infer that of the Carib.\nIn his person his son undergoes the first tests of his endurance,\nvalour and skill. Success in this is doubtless the guarantee of the\nchild\u2019s courage and of his value to the tribe as hunter and warrior.\n\nIf this be so, the Carib tortures, it is evident, spring from the same\nroot as other observances comprehended under the general name of the\nCouvade. Both in the Carib and Minahassee forms we find the tendency\nto emphasise the birth of the first child, or perhaps I should rather\nsay, to relax the requirements in the case of after-born children. The\ntendency is not to be looked upon as a recognition of heirship, but as\none arising naturally in the course of ceremonial decay. The first\nchild is the most important; for it is a pledge of the continuance of\nthe family or kindred, and brings very often an accession of honour,\nor at least of consideration, to its parents. Among peoples where\nconjugal fidelity is imperfectly developed, moreover, it is the one of\nwhose parentage the father is best assured, and consequently the one\non whose health and strength his {409} conduct will be likely, if not\ncertain, to have influence. Thus the motives for the care of the\noffspring, and therefore for the special observance of all\nprecautions, concentrate upon the first child; and if the custom be\nfound irksome, or for any other reason be liable to loosen its hold,\nit will generally continue to be fully observed in respect of the\nfirst child, long after it has begun to fall into neglect on\nsubsequent births.\n\nThe racial and geographical distribution of the practice is a more\ndifficult question than it might at first sight appear, considering\nthe number of authorities who have examined it. If we limit not the\ndefinition of the Couvade to the cases where the father actually lies\ndown, but extend it, as it seems proper to do, to all those where he\nhas before as well as after the birth to observe various taboos, in\nwhich the mother is often included--then we may find either the custom\nitself or relics of it over the greater part of the world. America,\ninhabited by a homogeneous race, displays it everywhere, even among\nthe Eskimos of Greenland, save apparently in Tierra del Fuego. On the\neastern continent Mr. Ling Roth puts the matter somewhat strongly when\nhe says that it \u201cis only met with in isolated and widely separated\nlocalities.\u201d In Australia it is unknown; nor is there any record of it\namong the extinct Tasmanians. Summing up the facts, the same writer\nsays: \u201cThe custom does not appear to exist or to have existed among\nthose people to whom the term \u2018most _degraded_\u2019 is erroneously\napplied, people which were better described as savages living in the\nlowest known forms of culture, such as the Australians, Tasmanians,\nBushmen, Hottentots, Veddahs, Sakeys, Aetas, and Fuegians. Neither\ndoes the custom exist among the so-called civilised portion of\nmankind. In {410} other words, Couvade appears at first sight to be\nlimited to peoples who hold an intermediate position between those in\nthe highest and those in [the] lowest states of culture. As such it\nmay be said to represent an intermediate or transition state of mental\ndevelopment.\u201d\n\nWe have no need to be surprised that the Couvade is not found in the\nlowest stage of savagery. The reckoning of kinship through the mother\nonly, and the stories and superstitions which attribute impregnation\nto other causes than coition, point alike to an imperfect recognition\nin archaic times of the natural fact of fatherhood. It may further be\nsuggested that where the claim of a father upon his child is still\nrather that of owner than of begetter, the recognition of the\ncounter-claim of the child upon the father, and the application as\nbetween father and child of the belief underlying and directing other\nmagical practices, will not yet have developed. It is probable,\nindeed, that the customs we include under the generic name of the\nCouvade would begin with the mother, and that when the fact of\npaternity was completely recognised, although legal kinship may not\nyet have come to be reckoned through the father, they would be\nextended to him. Their disappearance as men advanced in civilisation\nwould, like that of all other customs, be a gradual one; and if they\nhad become at all general we should be likely to discover relics of\nthem among nations in the higher ranks of culture. Accordingly,\nalthough there is no authentic record of the existence of the\nmasculine childbed in modern Europe, a number yet lingers of\nsuperstitions only referable to the Couvade. For example, just as in\nthe island of Celebes we found the Minahassee father performing a rite\nintended to secure to his son the qualities of bravery and skill, so\namong the Esthonians the {411} father runs rapidly round the church\nduring the baptismal service, that his child may be endowed with\nswiftness of foot.[411.1] In Altmark the mother busily reads her Bible\nand hymn-book while the child is being baptized, so that he may be\nable to learn easily; and with the same object the godparents must\nrepeat together after the minister the passages from the Bible he\nbrings into his exhortation.[411.2] The husband among the mixed\npopulation of East Prussia seems to have been limited in his choice of\ndrink while his wife was lying-in.[411.3] Over a wide area of the\nContinent the mother is allowed to do very little work before her\nchurching. In Altmark she must not spin; for in spinning she will wet\nher finger with her saliva, and that will cause the babe to\nslaver.[411.4] The reason assigned in Switzerland for a similar taboo\nis that she will spin the material for a rope for her child.[411.5] At\nthe baptismal feast in Altmark the mother must taste of all the dishes\nif she wish the infant to thrive.[411.6] Galician Jews permit no\nmember of a household where there is a young child to stay out after\nsunset, else the little one will be deprived of its rest.[411.7] In\nthe last illustration we have an extension of the superstition beyond\nthe immediate parents--an extension of which there are traces among\nsavage peoples, like the Abipones, who are reported to have put other\nrelatives as well as the parents upon restricted diet during a baby\u2019s\nillness.\n\nAn interesting form of this extension has been referred to by Dr.\nTylor in the third edition of the important work {412} in which he\ndiscusses the Couvade, where he notes that in Germany \u201cit is believed\nthat the habits and proceedings of the godfather and godmother affect\nthe child\u2019s life and character. Particularly, the godfather at the\nchristening must not think of disease or madness lest this come upon\nthe child; he must not look round on the way to church lest the child\nshould grow up an idle stare-about; nor must he carry a knife about\nhim for fear of making the child a suicide; the godmother must put on\na clean shift to go to the baptism, or the baby will grow up untidy,\netc. etc.\u201d[412.1] I have already mentioned another instance from a\nland which, to-day at all events, is German in language and polity.\nThere the duty of godparents is exactly parallel with that prescribed\nfor the mother. So too it is held in the Erzgebirge and in Thuringia\nthat the godfather must eat of all the dishes at the feast, for the\nbabe will get a dislike to those left untasted; and in Thuringia he\nmust not only not look about him in returning from church, but he must\nhasten back to the house, that the child may learn the sooner to\nrun.[412.2] In the Sollingerwald each of the godparents must hold the\nbabe for a little while; but the youngest of them presents it at the\nfont, doubtless to ensure it a longer life.[412.3] In the Upper\nPalatinate even the priest\u2019s conduct at the baptism will affect the\nchild. If he stumble or stutter during the reading of the service,\n{413} the consequences are serious: the boy will become silly, the\ngirl a nightmare; or if he leave a word out, the infant will never\nrest quietly in bed, but will be found feet uppermost. In Bohemia, the\npriest in stumbling as he reads will cause the child to talk in its\nsleep.[413.1] In the province of Posen, forgetfulness or mistake on\nthe part of the priest results as in the Palatinate; and the only\nremedy is rebaptism.[413.2] The superstition, as we see, is not\nconfined to Germany, though it may be more fully developed there than\nelsewhere; and without delaying upon examples drawn from Germany and\nGermanised lands, I proceed to cite a few from other countries before\nclosing what I have to say on the Couvade. Among the Huzules, to have\na Gipsy as godparent is to be lucky in horse-breeding and\nhorse-dealing; and by the same people it is considered that if there\nbe a difficulty in putting out the godparents\u2019 candles after the\nservice, the little newly made Christian will have a long life.[413.3]\nThe peasantry of the Valsesia at the foot of Monte Rosa deem that if\nthe godparents do not recite the creed with a clear voice the little\none will stammer all its life. And whoever carries it to the church to\nbe baptized must on no account look back, or the babe will always be\ntimid and easily frightened.[413.4] In Provence on the other side of\nthe Alps, as well as in Germany and Belgium, the opinion is widely\nprevalent that the child will resemble, morally and physically, his\ngodparents. Hence great anxiety as to the choice of these important\npersonages. They must be healthy in mind and body, and without any\nphysical defect; for if either of them should be one-eyed, a\nstammerer, bandy-legged or a hunchback, nobody, in Provence at least,\ndoubts {414} that the poor baby would suffer the like\nmisfortune.[414.1] In Central France, if a godfather wish his godson\nto become an excellent and indefatigable singer, he has a ready way to\nrealise the wish; for he has only to set the bells ringing full peal\nduring the baptismal service, and the longer and more vigorously they\ndance and swell, the more skilful will the neophyte become in striking\nup an air or in leading a jig. The godfather, however, must not forget\non leaving the church to imprint a chaste kiss on both cheeks of the\ngodmother, else there is too much reason to fear the boy will grow up\ndumb, or at least a stammerer.[414.2] In the _arrondissement_ of\nCorte, on the island of Corsica, if either of the sponsors forgets a\nsingle word in reciting the creed, the child becomes a wizard or\nwitch, or else a _mortolaio_, that is to say, a ghost-seer.[414.3] The\nlatter result also follows in Friuli;[414.4] while the Irish peasantry\nhold that if either of the sponsors fails to repeat _verbatim_ after\nthe priest the prayers and promises, the child will always have the\npower to see fairies or ghosts--which is reckoned unfortunate.[414.5]\nAmong the Walloons the omission by the priest of certain of the\nsacramental words seems to have a similar effect.[414.6] It is a\nsuperstition scattered over a large part of Italy that if the priest\nmake any mistake in the baptismal service, or omit to comply with\nevery ritual prescription in baptizing a girl, she will become a\nwitch;[414.7] and that stupidity or stammering will be the consequence\nof defects in the recitation {415} of the creed or prayers by the\n_padrini_ is also commonly believed.[415.1]\n\nThe fact is that in the popular mind sponsorship creates a new and\nreal kindred between the godparent and the god-child, and not only\nbetween the godparent and god-child, but between the godparent and the\ngodchild\u2019s relations. The effect seems analogous to that of the\nblood-covenant. Among the wandering Gipsies of southern Hungary a rite\nsimilar to that of the blood-covenant is actually performed. The day\nwhen the child\u2019s hair is first cut is kept as a festival. The\ngodparents let some drops of their blood fall into a glass of brandy\nand some on a small piece of bread. The father then pours the brandy\non the child\u2019s head and crumbles the bread upon it, \u201cthat the child\nmay grow and thrive.\u201d In the same way when the tortures of the Carib\nfather came to an end, the infant was sprinkled with some drops of\nblood from his wounds, with the object, we are told, of imparting his\ncourage and spirit. So, too, some of the wandering Gipsies of northern\nHungary wrap the babe after its birth in rags bedropt with some of the\nfather\u2019s blood.[415.2] The object in all these cases is to unite the\nchild in the closest bond with the person whose blood is shed. Even\nwhere that person is the father himself the rite may perhaps be\nregarded as a formal adoption into the kin. More likely it is intended\nto promote the growth and health of the child by renewing the\ncorporeal union already in existence by virtue of the natural\nblood-tie, or of the equivalent mystical bond forged, as between\nsponsor and child, by the sacrament of baptism. It would then\ncorrespond to one of those periodical renewals {416} of\nblood-brotherhood which we have dealt with on a former page. Some\ncountenance is perhaps given to this suggestion by a practice of the\nSouthern Slavs. The relationship of godfather and godchild is often\ncreated among them by the formal cutting of the child\u2019s hair, as it\nseems also to have been among the ancient Germans. The ceremony can\nonly take place once. The godfather cuts the hair in the form of a\ncross and drops it into a cup of water, into which he puts some money\nas a gift for the child; and the parent then entertains him at a feast\nand presents him with gifts in return. As the ceremony is not\ndistinctive of any religious denomination, Christian and Moslem do not\nscruple to enter into the relationship of hair-cutting sponsorship\nwith one another. It unites the families in ties so close as to\ninvolve them in one another\u2019s blood-feuds; and a Moslem woman unveils\nbefore her child\u2019s godfather, though a stranger and even a Christian.\nBut, important as are the social and political effects of such an\ninstitution, it is not to them that I desire specially to direct\nattention in this connection; rather I desire to compare it with the\nGipsy practices just mentioned. It is in great request in Bosnia as\nremedial treatment for a sickly child. The child is taken to a\ncrossway; and the first passer-by is expected to cut the hair and thus\nbecome godfather.[416.1] Here it is surely intended to enter into a\nnew corporeal union with an entire stranger, and so acquire a fresh\nstock of health. The objection to this explanation is that the\ngodparent does not seem to take the hair away with him. I do not know\nif we can suppose that the ceremony has undergone deterioration, and\nthat this part {417} of the proceeding has been lost because its exact\nreason has been forgotten. I am unable otherwise to account for it. In\nany case it is unquestionable that the relationship of gossipry in\nmany countries is fully as intimate and sacred as that of blood.\nAmongst the Southern Slavs, we know, a godfather or an adoptive\nbrother is often the person chosen in preference to any one, even a\nnatural brother, to fill the delicate office of _brautf\u00fchrer_ at a\nwedding. The Huzules regard sponsors as veritable additions to the\nfamily circle. They never choose them from among their neighbours; for\nthere is often strife between neighbours; and strife between gossips,\nor persons related by the bond of sponsorship, would be a sin.[417.1]\nIn some parts of Italy the godmother drinks at the baptismal feast out\nof the same cup with the mother:[417.2] clear evidence of the intimacy\nof their union.\n\nOne consequence of the relationship thus created is the prohibition of\nintermarriage. In comparatively early times the Church took over from\nthe Roman law the interdiction of marriage between persons who were\nonly akin by adoption. That interdiction was the direct and necessary\nresult of the recognition of adoption as constituting a true kinship.\nThe analogy of sponsorship at the font was too great to be overlooked;\nand in following the prohibition into the relationship between persons\nby this new tie the Church was merely reflecting the opinion of the\npeople, who saw in it a fresh and solemn form of the adoption to which\nthey had been accustomed from the days of savagery. Their horror of\nsuch marriages wherever sponsorship is yet a living reality may be\nillustrated by the superstition recorded in Berri not many years ago,\nthat the fruit of the {418} union was not children but hairy monsters,\nwhich when disengaged from their mother\u2019s womb would instantly take\nrefuge under the bed, and when thence dislodged with a pitchfork would\nfly to the hearth, and after grinning and mowing at their persecutors\nfor a while from the pot-hook above the hearth would eventually\ndisappear, to the relief of every one, up the chimney.[418.1]\n\nThe custom of Adoption seems to have arisen with the appearance of the\ntrue family. The mode of admission into a totem-kin is by the\nblood-covenant, and the neophyte becomes a blood-brother. But when the\nsmaller circle of the family emerges, containing only the parents and\ntheir descendants either by monogamic or polygynic marriage, adoption\nby the head of the family of a child from without is found a\nconvenient means of recruiting its numbers. For a long time adoption\ninto the family goes on side by side with admission by blood-covenant\ninto the kin. The object of both rites, though similar, is not\nidentical, inasmuch as the bodies into which admission is obtained are\nnot the same. The blood-covenant, therefore, is not ousted by\nadoption, and only tends to disappear with the abandonment of the\nclan-organisation. In fact, in the custom of Adoptive Brotherhood it\nhas continued among the Slavs to the present day. Adoption seems to\nattain its greatest strength where what we may term legal kinship is\nreckoned only on one side, whether through the father only or the\nmother only. When legal kinship comes to coincide with natural kinship\nthe circle of the kin widens, and the organisation of society changes,\nso as to render less needful the strengthening of the family by adding\nartificially to its numbers; testamentary rights come into existence;\nthe {419} feeling of natural kinship dominates the legal idea; and\nkinship by adoption ultimately vanishes. For this reason Adoption is\nunknown to the English law, and the same may probably be said of other\nmodern nations, notwithstanding their ancestors may have practised it,\neven where their law is an ancient system, adapted from time to time\nto the development of national requirements, and not based upon a\nrevolutionary subversion of older institutions.\n\nThe ceremony of Adoption is sometimes found as a simulation of the act\nof birth, at other times as suckling or a simulation of suckling.\nDiodorus relates a legend of the adoption of Herakles by Hera which\ndoubtless exhibits the ceremony as practised by the prehistoric\nGreeks. The scene, it will be remembered, is laid in Heaven; for it\nwas to make things agreeable there after the hero\u2019s apotheosis that\nZeus persuaded his jealous and vindictive consort to take this course.\nWe are told that Hera having gone to bed, Herakles was brought close\nto her body, in order to imitate a real birth; and she then dropped\nhim down from under her clothes to the ground. The writer adds that\neven in his own day this was the rite of adoption observed by the\nbarbarians;[419.1] nor have we any reason to disbelieve him, seeing\nthat it is still practised by the Turks in Bosnia. In Dalmatia the man\nwho intends to adopt a son (the ceremony is the same if it be\nperformed by a woman) girds the son with one end of his girdle and\nhimself with the other, saying in the presence of witnesses: \u201cThis is\nmy son. I make over to him after my life my whole property.\u201d A\nSlavonic folksong represents an empress as taking the son {420} to be\nadopted into the palace and passing him through her silken vest that\nhe might be called her heart\u2019s child.[420.1] Here we are reminded of a\nmedi\u00e6val usage at weddings in France and Germany. In the former\ncountry a canopy, or veil, was (and perhaps still is) held suspended\nover the heads of the pair to be married while the service is being\nperformed. It bears the significant name of _abrifou_, or\nfool-shelter. The Hessian practice, now extinct, was more picturesque.\nThe bridegroom wore a large black mantle; and as he stood with his\nbride before the altar he flung with one strong sweep its ample folds\naround her, so that both of them were covered by it. If the bride, or\nher husband, had any child, born before marriage, and she took it\nthere and then under the canopy or the mantle, this act was sufficient\nto render it legitimate.[420.2] The same usage may once have prevailed\nin England; for a belief is said to have lingered into recent times\namong \u201cthe folk\u201d here that a mother might legitimate her children born\nbefore marriage, by taking them under her clothes during the\nceremony.[420.3] Though the object of the practice is said to be\nlegitimation, the rite is that of adoption. Legitimation and Adoption\nare in this connection convertible terms.\n\nElsewhere suckling is represented in the rite. Sir John Lubbock\nmentions that \u201cin Circassia the woman offered her breast to the person\nshe was adopting.\u201d This was probably the form among the ancient\nEgyptians. At all {421} events, they esteemed the milk-tie a very\nsacred one;[421.1] as did the ancient Irish, with whom, and with the\nScandinavians, fosterage had a sanctity equal, if not superior, to the\ntie of blood, without, however, involving the renunciation of the\noriginal kin.[421.2] At the present time at Kamb\u00e2t, in the Eastern\nHorn of Africa, the son to be adopted sucks blood from the breast of\nhis adoptive father.[421.3] In Abyssinia, \u201cif a man wishes to be\nadopted as the son of one of superior station or influence, he takes\nhis hand, and, sucking one of his fingers, declares himself to be his\n\u2018child by adoption,\u2019 and his new father is bound to assist him as far\nas he can.\u201d[421.4]\n\nIn general, the effect of Adoption was to transfer the adopted child\nfrom his own family to that of the adoptive parent. At Rome the rite\nincluded the _detestatio sacrorum_, or relinquishment of the original\nhousehold, and the _transitio in sacra_, or initiation into the new\nworship. By these means the child was discharged from his natural\nfamily and received into the new one.[421.5] The change of worship is,\nin that plane of civilisation where the custom of adoption is most\nfully developed, of the essence of the proceeding. Its very object\noften is to preserve the ancestral cult by artificially providing\npersons to carry it on. This is the most prominent idea in the _Laws\nof Manu_.[421.6] Annexed to the ancestral cult was the inheritance.\nWhosoever performed the one was entitled to the other, or {422} at\nleast to a share in the other. In course of time, as the duty decayed\nand ceased to be acknowledged, the rights of property remained: an\nexcellent precedent for the English House of Lords in insisting on the\nrights of property while looking askance at its duties. The adopted\nchild is in fact regarded exactly as a natural-born child; he obtains\nall the privileges, and is charged with all the duties, restrictions\nand disabilities of a natural-born child. He becomes of one flesh with\nhis new parents and their other offspring, whether natural or adopted.\nHe is entitled to support, to maintenance in his quarrels, to\nprotection, to his fair and equal share of the inheritance. He is\nliable to obedience, to maintain the family quarrels, to assist in\npaying the family debts and obligations, to unite in the family\nworship; and he is debarred from marrying all whom the members of his\nadopted family are restricted from marrying. As a consequence,\nadoption can only take place with the assent of both families, or of a\ncouncil of elders or some more formal tribunal on behalf of the\ncommunity. Such a tribunal exercises the functions, not merely of\njudge of the propriety of the adoption, but also of the necessary\nwitness to its validity. And if we do not find the formality always\ncomplied with in the punctilious manner of the Roman law, we may\nusually trace it with greater or less distinctness wherever the custom\nof adoption has obtained.[422.1]\n\nPassing, with this hasty sketch of Adoption, away from {423} the inner\ncircle of family relationships, let us look at one or two aspects of\nthe wider clan-life, illustrating the strength of the blood-tie.\n\n\u201cThe birth-ties of kindred are reckoned the only strong ones,\u201d says\nCountess Martinengo-Cesaresco, speaking of folksongs; and the\nobservation might be extended with hardly any qualification to every\nspecies of tradition. The bond of blood has always proved stronger\nthan any other force that can sway human nature, until it encounters\nthe overmastering energy of one of the great world-religions, or\nbecomes distracted and spent amid the complexities of modern life.\nWeakened as it is in Europe nowadays, it is yet not entirely\ndissipated. Its claims are put forth more timidly, but they are still\nwithin certain limits respected. To the utmost of those limits they\nare still efficient instruments in the hands of the poet, the\nplaywright and the novelist,--and that not only on the moral side,\nwhere we are accustomed to appeals founded upon kinship, but also on\nwhat I may call the physical side. An unaccountable thrill, we are\ntold, shoots through a father who meets unwittingly a child whom he\nhas never seen, or has seen but for a moment long years before. This\ninvoluntary recognition of the same blood is a convention not yet\nwholly discarded by the writers who thus aim at affecting our\nemotions, because it has not quite passed out of the shadowy region\nbordering our clear beliefs into the limbo {424} of things that\nneither prescribe our action nor convince and captivate our\nimagination. But the Italian peasant, a thousand years behindhand, a\nthousand leagues deeper in the realm where faith and fancy reign in\nindissoluble consort on a double throne, undisturbed by the far-off\nfrontier raids of criticism and doubt,--the Italian peasant admits the\nextreme demands of blood in the _vendetta_, and believes that when a\nbottle supposed to contain a portion of the blood of Saint Januarius\n\u201cwas presented to the body such joy was evinced that the blood had\nnearly burst from the bottle.\u201d[424.1] If such were the conduct of\nblood severed for, say, fifteen centuries from the body of which it\nhad once formed part, what may not be expected of blood still flowing\nin the veins of living men, themselves both parts of one body, the\nkin,--blood whose stream has welled from the same fount only a\ngeneration or so ago? In _The Book of the Pious_ by Jehuda ben Samuel\nthe Pious, who lived at Ratisbon about the year 1200, a story is told,\nfounded on the idea of the physical unity of a kindred. A rich man\ndied while travelling abroad, having at the time of his death a large\nsum of money in his possession. The servant stole this money and gave\nhimself out as his master\u2019s son. Shortly after the rich man\u2019s\ndeparture from home, however, a son was born to him, who, when grown\nup, sought the aid of the Gaon Saadja. Saadja, it appears, was an\nhistorical personage who flourished at Sura in the former half of the\ntenth century. He advised the youth to apply to the king; and the king\ncommissioned Saadja to decide the matter. The Gaon, accordingly,\nhaving the son {425} and the servant both brought before him, caused a\nvein of each of them to be opened, and one of the bones of the dead\nman to be fetched from his grave. He laid the bone first in the\nservant\u2019s blood, but without effect. He then laid it in the son\u2019s\nblood, which it immediately sucked up; for the bone and the blood, we\nare told, were of one body. Saadja, therefore, gave judgment in favour\nof the son, directing the estate to be restored to him.[425.1]\n\nTwo other examples may be given of widely sundered peoples among whom\nessentially the same superstition is current. It is believed in the\nwest of Europe--certainly in Brittany and Flanders--that the body of\none drowned will bleed on the approach of a kinsman.[425.2] The Zulus\nspeak of sympathy by the navel. It is their conviction that a man will\nrecognise his kindred by some mysterious influence of the navel. \u201cA\nman,\u201d they say, \u201cknows one of his blood-relations by the navel. We\nhave been wondering at the treatment of the man by So-and-so. We\nthought he knew him; yet he did not know him; he sympathised with him\nby the navel only.\u201d[425.3] Obviously this is the birth-tie.\n\nThe most instructive application of the doctrine that the kin is, in\nmuch more than a metaphorical sense, one body, is to be found in the\ncollective responsibility of the clan. Illustrations might be cited\nfrom every corner of the known world. But to do so would be to repeat\nthe same evidence, frequently in the same words, over and over again.\nI shall, therefore, give only a few of the more striking instances.\n\nI mentioned a page or two back the extreme demands of {426} blood as\nfound in the Italian _vendetta_. The words were only just written,\nwhen I took up the newspaper of the day, and read an account of a\ntrial for murder arising out of a blood-feud in Dalmatia. The actors\nin the tragedy were not Italians, but Slavs. The facts were shortly\nthese. Two brothers, having quarrelled with a neighbour about some\ngoats, threw themselves upon him with their daggers; but he defended\nhimself with his pistol, and, having killed one, was tried for murder.\nThe jury properly acquitted him, on the ground that he was only acting\nin self-defence. Hardly had he left the prison when his surviving\nassailant, with another brother, hastened to his house. They found\nthere only their foe\u2019s wife and daughters; and they waited and\nwatched. Soon they espied the acquitted man\u2019s younger brother, a boy\nof fourteen, carrying a pitcher of water. Crying \u201cThe devil threw thee\nin our way,\u201d they seized him, and stabbed him so quickly that he had\nno time even to cry out. They were speedily arrested, tried, found\nguilty of murder, and condemned, the one to death, and the other to\neighteen years\u2019 penal servitude. They protested against the sentence,\nand appealed to the Court of Cassation at Vienna. There their counsel\nhad the assurance to plead that \u201cin Dalmatia it is every man\u2019s duty to\ntake vengeance where blood has been shed; and that the people feel it\nright to pursue a family, one of whose members has killed a connection\nof their own, as long as there is a male descendant.\u201d This was a\nlittle more than a civilised court of justice could stand; and it will\nbe no fault of the judges if the Dalmatian savages do not learn that\nthe unity of the kin is not a doctrine of modern jurisprudence.[426.1]\n\n{427}\n\nThe story shows that we must regard the collective responsibility of\nthe clan as twofold; first looking at the offended clan, and then at\nthe offending. What Professor Robertson Smith points out concerning\nthe Semites is universally true, namely, that when a member of the\nclan has been slain, the others say, not \u201cThe blood of such an one has\nbeen spilt,\u201d but \u201c_Our_ blood has been spilt.\u201d The injury is felt by\nthe entire body; and it is the business of the entire body to revenge\nit. Conversely, not merely the man who commits the wrong is liable for\nit. His whole kin is involved in the guilt, and must suffer for it\nuntil atonement shall have been made. Colonel Ellis, writing of the\npeoples of the Slave and Gold Coasts, lays down this rule in distinct\nterms. \u201cThe family collectively,\u201d he says, \u201cis responsible for all\ncrimes and injuries to person or property committed by any one of its\nmembers, and each member is assessible for a share of the compensation\nto be paid. On the other hand, each member of the family receives a\nshare of the compensation paid to it for any crime or injury committed\nagainst the person or property of any one of its members. Compensation\nis always demanded from the family instead of from the individual\nwrong-doer, and is paid to the family instead of to the individual\nwronged.\u201d And he draws attention to the resemblance of this custom of\ncollective responsibility and indemnification to that enunciated in\nthe old Welsh laws.[427.1]\n\nHappily for mankind the blood-feud is not everywhere so relentless as\nit is presented to us in Dalmatia. Even savages cannot afford to be\nfor ever engaged in warfare to the death; and that is what would\nhappen if blood were only to be wiped out by blood. The practice of\ncommuting {428} revenge for payment has therefore very generally\narisen. The distinction between crimes, as wrongs committed against\nthe State, and private injuries classed by lawyers as torts and\nbreaches of contract, is unknown in the lower stages of civilisation.\nThere was at first no State, and when the State came into existence it\nwas but loosely constituted. Public crimes were confined to treason\nand the like: robbery and murder were nothing more than private\nwrongs. Commutation for these was precisely on the same footing as for\ninsult or debt. It was no more unnatural to take payment for the\nmurder of a blood-brother than for a sheep; it no more interfered with\nthe course of justice or the rights of the State than the barter for a\ntusk of ivory or a bag of gold-dust. To omit to pay the price of the\nivory or the gold-dust was as much a wrong against a clan to which, or\nto one member of which, it was due, as to commit murder. The price of\na murder might be heavier, or it might not. But, alike, the price of\nthe goods or of the blood must be paid by the clan of the man indebted\nor offending. To draw a line between wrongs done to the clan and\nwrongs done to the individual required a much greater development, on\nthe one side, of the individual, on the other side, of the State, at\nthe expense of the clan or the family. Until that point had been\nreached, whenever compensation was accepted for a wrong to the kin,\nevery member of the kin, as in the West African custom depicted by\nColonel Ellis, was entitled to his share; because the wrong to the kin\nhad reached and was shared by all. Among the Garos of Bengal,\nproposals of marriage must come from the woman. If a man make the\nfirst advances it is an insult, not to the individual woman, but to\nthe whole _mah\u00e1ri_ (literally, motherhood) or kin, \u201ca {429} stain\nonly to be obliterated by the blood of pigs and liberal libations of\nbeer at the expense,\u201d not of the individual offender, but of the\n_mah\u00e1ri_ to which he belongs.[429.1] Going back to West Africa, we\nfind that on the river Comoe, as on the Slave Coast, where a man of\none community is indebted to a man of another community, the latter\nhas the right to seize the goods of any member of his debtor\u2019s\ncommunity, on the ground that the group is collectively responsible\nfor the debts of its members.[429.2] Examples might be added from\nevery part of the globe; but they can be all summed up in the Fijian\nphilosophy as expressed by an old resident to Mr. Fison, while\nexplaining a bloody feud which lasted for years in reference to the\nshooting of a dog. \u201cIt\u2019s just like this, sir; in a manner o\u2019 speakin\u2019,\nsay as me and Tom Farrell here has a difficulty, and gets to punchin\u2019\none another. If he plugs me in the eye, I don\u2019t feel duty bound to hit\nhim back azackly on the same spot. If I can get well in on him\nanywheres handy, I ain\u2019t partickler. And that\u2019s how these niggers\nreckons it.\u201d[429.3]\n\nNor does the solidarity of the kin for this purpose disappear without\ndifficulty even after the State has come into existence and\nestablished its sole cognisance of crime. The offender\u2019s relatives\ncontinue liable with himself to punishment. This explains the\nwholesale punishment of barbarous nations, involving persons whom we\nshould regard as absolutely innocent. Achan\u2019s sons and daughters were\nstoned with their father. The customs of the Habura in the North-west\nProvinces of India require that when a crime has been committed by\nmembers of a certain horde, {430} the chief shall determine who are to\nbe given up. \u201cUsually a compromise is made with the police; two out of\nsix, or three out of eight, are made over to justice, the rest\nescaping. All the chief does is to repeat a certain form of words, and\nthen, taking two of the grains of wheat offered to their god, he\nplaces them on the head of the scapegoat. The oath of the brotherhood\nis upon him, and whether he be guilty or not he confesses to the\npolice magistrate, or judge, and goes to the gallows or a life-long\nexile, confident that his chief and brethren will, as they are bound,\nfeed and protect the wife and children he leaves behind, even before\ntheir own.\u201d[430.1] The ancient laws of Ireland provide elaborately for\nthe responsibility of the clan in respect of crimes committed by\nmembers. In their case, however, the conception of the crime as a debt\ndue to the injured clan had not yet been wholly effaced; for the\nprovisions for sharing the compensation are equally elaborate.[430.2]\nThe customs of the Teutons recognised the same responsibility; and in\nthe corruption of blood and forfeiture of property to the crown which,\nuntil the legislation of about a quarter of a century ago, were\nentailed in this country by conviction not only for treason but for\nany felony, we may discover the last remnant in modern laws of the\nancient rule of visiting the sins of the individual upon the whole of\nhis kindred.[430.3]\n\n{431}\n\nThe forms of medical treatment examined in a former chapter exhibited\nthe connection which remained unsevered when portions of the body, or\nof its issues, or clothing, had been detached; so that it was\nsufficient to subject these objects to healing or sacred influences in\norder to effect the cure of the man himself. But if the kin together\nform one body in any substantial sense, the treatment of other members\nthan the one actually suffering, if not sufficient to restore him to\nhealth, will at all events help his recovery. Among the Dieyerie of\nSouth Australia, if a child meet with an accident, all its relations\nare struck over the head with sticks or boomerangs until the blood\nflows. And this blood-letting by deputy is held to alleviate the\ninfant\u2019s pain.[431.1] In civilised times, when the feeling of kindred\nhas become attenuated and the real reason for this vicarious treatment\nconsequently lost, an intimate friend may sometimes take the place of\na relative. He may perform the pilgrimage, or undergo the remedy. A\nDevonshire prescription for curing a friend of boils is to go into a\nchurchyard on a dark night and walk six times round the grave of a\nperson who has been interred the previous day, and crawl over it three\ntimes. If the sufferer be a man the ceremony {432} must be performed\nby a woman, and _vice vers\u00e2_.[432.1] Parallel with this are\npilgrimages made by a friend or relative in the name of a sick person,\nof which I have cited some instances in a former chapter; and possibly\nthe same principle dictated the early Christian practice of \u201cbaptism\nfor the dead.\u201d\n\nI am not aware whether it is deemed enough by many savage peoples to\napply the remedy in this way, without also treating the patient\nhimself. That it is considered necessary in various parts of the world\nto treat not only the sufferer but other members of his tribe,\npresumably kinsmen, is quite certain. Among the Buryats of Siberia the\npatient\u2019s tribesmen take part in the ceremony of healing performed by\nthe shaman, and share the wine, tea and sour cream which is drunk by\nthe shaman and the patient.[432.2] The Wakuni, who inhabit a district\nof Unyamwezi, treat a victim of witchcraft by killing a cow and\nspotting with the blood his forehead, the root of his neck, his\ninsteps and the palms of his hands; and such of his kinsmen as are\npresent are similarly marked.[432.3] Dr. Matthews describes the mode\nof cure he witnessed among the Navajo Indians of New Mexico. At one\nstage of the ceremonies the sick woman and a companion were brought\ninto the medicine-lodge and made to sit on the divine portraits in dry\npigment which covered the floor. The medicine-man, having made a cold\ninfusion in an earthen bowl, dipped a brush, or sprinkler, made of\nfeathers, in the solution, sprinkled the picture, {433} touched the\nfigure of each divinity on the brow, mouth and chest with the brush,\nand then administered the contents of the bowl to both women, in two\nalternate draughts to each. What was left he himself drank, and handed\nthe bowl to the bystanders, \u201cthat they might finish the dregs, and let\nnone of the precious stuff go to waste\u201d:[433.1] a pious economy, the\nlike of which is prescribed to one Christian sect in England by the\nschedule to an Act of Parliament. In this Navajo ceremony, in addition\nto the lady-companion and the bystanders, who perhaps were\nblood-relations of the patient, the shaman himself partook of the\nsacred beverage. It is not at all impossible, though no stress can be\nlaid upon the conjecture, that he also may have been of the woman\u2019s\nkin. Many North American tribes attach great importance to the\nco-operation of kindred in the cure, and that to the exclusion of\nother persons. The Cherokees, for instance, do not allow a\nmedicine-man to treat his own wife. Nay, they will not permit the\nhusband or wife of any sick person to send for a medicine-man. The\ncall must come from one of the sufferer\u2019s blood-relations, among whom\nwife or husband could not of course be. Their spells for the treatment\nof rheumatism--the Crippler, as they appropriately call it--are very\nelaborate; and in order to success the doctor is subjected to the same\ntaboos as the patient. Neither of them must touch a squirrel, a dog, a\ncat or a mountain trout. Neither of them, if married, may approach his\nwife for four nights. And according to another formula, the ceremony\nmust be performed by both shaman and patient fasting.[433.2]\n\nIt is, however, unnecessary to suppose that the medicine-man {434}\nmust be a kinsman of the sufferer. His very office brings him for the\ntime into sacramental relations with him, which would be quite\nsufficient to account for his sharing both the potion and the taboos.\nA curious parallel to the Navajo rite is found in a leech-book of our\nAnglo-Saxon forefathers dating from the tenth century. To heal a man\nof fever certain crosses and letters are directed to be written upon\nthe holy paten, and the opening words of Saint John\u2019s Gospel are to be\nsung over the writing. It is then to be washed off the paten with holy\nwater into the medicine. The creed, the paternoster, fourteen psalms\n(including the hundred and nineteenth) and a solemn adjuration of the\nfever are then to be sung over it. When all this conjuring was\nfinished, the leech and the sick man were each directed to sip thrice\nof the drink thus sanctified.[434.1]\n\nThe rite of healing in which the kin are required to join is found in\nevery quarter of the globe. A common form is the slaughter of a beast\nor fowl, or perhaps of several, as a sacrifice, followed of course by\na feast. Peoples as far apart in locality as they are in race are\nrecorded to have practised this mode of cure. It has been witnessed\nalike among the Yakuts of Siberia, the Peguenches of Southern Chili,\nthe islanders of Lu\u00e7on and Mindanos in the East Indies, the heathen\nDinkas of Central Africa and the Mohammedan inhabitants of\nTimbuctoo.[434.2] At Ballyvorney in county Cork less than two\ncenturies ago an image of wood about two feet high, carved and painted\nlike a woman, was kept by one of the family of the O\u2019Herlehys; and, we\nare told, \u201cwhen any one is sick of the small-pox {435} they send for\nit, sacrifice a sheep to it, and wrap the skin about the sick person,\nand the family [that is, as I understand it, the family of the sick\nperson] eat the sheep. But this idol hath now much lost its\nreputation, because two of the O\u2019Herlehys died lately of the\nsmall-pox.\u201d[435.1] An analogous rite is found in China. Ten men of ten\ndifferent families of the patient\u2019s relatives and friends (formerly,\ndoubtless, of his kin only) become \u201csecurity\u201d for him. Each family\ncontributes one hundred cash, which go towards the expenses of the\nfeast, the remainder being found by the patient\u2019s own family. The\nfeast is spread in a temple, when the food is first presented to the\nidol, and the names of the \u201csureties\u201d are written on a piece of paper\nand burned before the god. Among other ceremonies, after the feast the\nrepresentative of the family carries home some of the rice, which is\nmade into congee for the sick man to eat.[435.2]\n\nI have mentioned, in treating of witchcraft, a Dyak practice which\nexhibits close connection between the house and absent members of the\nfamily. It perhaps goes further, and displays the belief that the\nconduct of a family at home affects an absent member. Similar customs,\npointing to such a belief, are recorded of the Thugs.[435.3] And\nconversely, a tribesman of Lake Nyassa will eat no salt while on a\njourney, lest his wife misconduct {436} herself at home.[436.1] This\nmysterious effect can be due to nothing less than the essential\nsolidarity of the family. The matter is put plainly by the _I li_, one\nof the sacred books of the Chinese, in the declaration that \u201cfather\nand son are only one body, and so are husband and wife, and elder and\nyounger brothers.\u201d And for this reason, we are told, the possessions\nof a family are held in common[436.2]--a subject on which I have no\nspace to enter.\n\nIn strict analogy, it may be remarked, to the human kin is the view\nentertained in the lower culture of the kinship of some orders of\nbrutes. Every species is a kindred united by a bond as close as that\nwhich binds a human clan, so that sorcery may be wrought on all the\nmembers by operating on one or two specimens. Is a garden in Hesse\ninfested with caterpillars, it suffices to go round it and crush a\ncaterpillar at each of three corners. From the fourth corner another\nis taken and hung up in the chimney to dry in the smoke. As it dries\nup, the caterpillars in the garden will wither and die.[436.3]\nPossibly this mode of treatment only applies to such creatures as it\nwould be difficult to deal with individually. The subject may be worth\nfurther inquiry: I can do no more than allude to it here in passing.\n\nConnection as close as that of kindred could not be terminated by\ndeath. We have already considered the efforts made to renew by\nsacramental means the union with the dead. It remains to refer to a\nsuperstition which regards the tie as indissoluble even in the grave.\nUpon the lowest step of civilisation the Ainu of Yezo are very jealous\nof their burial-places. They hide them in the depths of the forest, or\nin some other spot, remote, unlikely {437} to be discovered, and\ndifficult to reach. Nothing angers them more than to know that a\nstranger has been near their tombs.[437.1] The Tanalas of Madagascar\nenclose the bodies of their dead in little huts erected in\ninaccessible parts of the forest, and the living are forbidden to\nintrude into the thickets where these huts are found.[437.2] The\nHaidahs of British Columbia used to cremate their dead, because they\nfeared that their enemies would else get hold of the body and make\ncharms from it.[437.3] No reason is assigned by the traveller who\nreports it for the Ainu feeling; none is assigned for the Tanala\npractice; but we have perhaps the clue to both here, as well as to the\noft-sought origin of cremation among the prehistoric tribes of Europe.\nIf the dead man be a part of the whole body of the clan in anything\nlike a material sense, for a foe to obtain possession of any part of\nthe corpse would be a serious danger for the survivors. The belief of\nthe Narrinyeri of Australia was that if a sorcerer obtained a bone of\nthe totem animal of a hostile clan he could afflict the clan with\nsickness.[437.4] In the Banks\u2019 Islands burials are often secret, and\ncare is taken to prevent the bones from being dug up for arrows and\nfor charms.[437.5] In Equatorial Africa the Mpongwe kings are always\ninterred secretly, for fear that other tribes should dig up the head\nto make a powerful fetish of the brains.[437.6] The precautions in the\nlast two cases depend, it may be, on the intrinsic value of the relics\nof an able or powerful man rather than his relation to {438} those who\nare in terror of the charms that may be made of his corpse. In the\nhigher civilisation of China, however, it is quite clear that the\ncondition of a corpse is of the greatest moment to the health and\nprosperity of his descendants. Wherefore small iron nails are\nscattered in the coffin, also hempseeds, peas and millet, and red\nyeast, to cause the sons and grandsons of the dead to beget numerous\nsons and become the ancestors of remoter progeny, and to provide them\nwith plenty of food for all time to come. Pith and rice-paper, which\nwill absorb the fluid products of decay, are scattered to cause the\ndescendants to become grand and of high rank. Two pairs of trousers\nare spread over the corpse, stuffed with ingots of gold- and\nsilver-paper. \u201cThese are expected to enormously enrich the dead and\nhis offspring.\u201d On the other hand, metal buttons are avoided on the\ngrave-clothes, because they will injure the body while it is decaying,\n\u201cand consequently cause great injuries also\u201d to the posterity of the\ndeceased. And while the coffin, having been made and brought to the\nhouse, is being prepared for the reception of the body, the mourners\nabstain from wailing, \u201cbecause manifestations of woe and distress\nmight cause real woe and distress to be enclosed in the coffin, and so\nbring bad luck not only on the dead, but also on his descendants, the\nfate of whom is most intimately bound up with the grave of their\nancestor.\u201d[438.1] More than this, necromancers profess to be able to\ntell the fortunes of the living by inspection of the bodies of their\ndead ancestors, which, if not among the Chinese themselves, at all\nevents among certain of the wild tribes, are dug up for the purpose.\nAnd it is on record that, in the various revolutions which have from\ntime to time convulsed {439} the country, the imperial mausolea have\nbeen broken open \u201cand the entombed corpses mangled and destroyed with\nthe object of bringing ruin on the imperial descendant seated on the\ntottering throne.\u201d The aboriginal Luh-N\u2019zehtsze believe that health\ndepends on the cleanness of the bones of departed kinsmen.\nAccordingly, when a man has been in the grave a year he is exhumed and\nhis bones are carefully washed; and whenever any of his family are\nsick the same operation is at once performed, no matter how long or\nhow short the time since he was buried.[439.1] Even in Europe we have\nthe well-known superstition that the state and appearance of a corpse\nbefore burial indicate whether other deaths in the family are to\nfollow, as if it be limp, or the eyes cannot be closed, and so forth.\nAccording to Corean opinion, the prosperity of a dead man\u2019s\ndescendants depends solely on the right choice of the place where he\nis buried. Hence the utmost care is taken in its selection, and the\nart of divining the proper spot is a special profession in the\ncountry.[439.2] The Maori sentiment, it may be added, which regards as\none of the most frightful insults that can be flung at a man to tell\nhim to cook his great-grandfather, seems to spring from the same root.\nThe Maoris do not eat their relations: hence to bid a man cook his\nfather would be a great curse. But to tell him to cook his\ngreat-grandfather would be far worse, because it would include \u201cevery\nindividual who has sprung from him.\u201d[439.3] In other words, a man is\nlooked upon as one with all his {440} descendants. The belief in an\nindissoluble corporal union must have preceded such an interpretation\nof language which in terms only mentions the ancestor.\n\nWe may now sum up the results of our inquiry into the theory of the\nLife-token. The length of the investigation is justified by the\nimportance of the subject in the long and wonderful history of\ncivilisation. I do not pretend here to give a complete account of\nsavage philosophy. In spite of the investigations of anthropologists\nduring the last thirty years, we are as yet far from being in a\nposition to form a satisfactory synthesis--a synthesis which will\nreckon with the many-sided activity of the human mind, even in the\nlower stages of its development, and will estimate at its due value\nevery influence, material as well as intellectual, which, entering in\nearly times into the stream of culture, deflected its current or added\nto its volume, until it at last attained that irresistible force whose\ndirection we know though its issue remains dark and uncertain. My own\nobject is much humbler. And if I have succeeded in laying with any\nmeasure of clearness before the reader the sacramental conception of\nlife underlying the incident of the Life-token, I must not be supposed\nto depreciate as factors in savage culture other conceptions with\nwhich I am not immediately concerned. I am quite aware, too, that much\nthat I have put forward, in so far as I have put forward anything new,\nmust be considered as yet only tentative and conjectural. Tradition,\nconservative as it is, is in its nature shifting and liable to endless\ncombinations. It is, therefore, compounded of elements not merely\nvarious, but often contradictory. This renders the task of\ndisentangling peculiarly difficult, needing patience that cannot be\ndiscouraged, and an insight that long {441} familiarity with the ideas\nof the uncivilised will not always give.\n\nStarting from his personal consciousness, the savage attributes the\nlike consciousness to everything he sees or feels around him. And\nholding that outward form is by no means of the essence of existence\nor of individuality, he looks upon transformation as an ordinary\nincident, happening to all men at death, happening to many men and\nother creatures whensoever they will. From the capacity of\ntransformation to the capacity of division the step is not a long one.\nTo be transformed into a pomegranate or a heap of grain is to have\none\u2019s life equally diffused through a thousand seeds, each of which is\nendowed with the powers and possibilities of the whole. Scattered,\nthey may re-unite; and if all but one be destroyed, from that one a\nnew whole can be reproduced, or some other shape may be assumed\nwherein will reside, undiminished and unobscured, all the\nconsciousness and all the power of the original. But what was regarded\nas true of one shape was regarded as true of another. It was deemed to\nbe practicable so to sever one\u2019s own personality as to secrete and\nsafeguard one\u2019s life. This severed portion we call--we have no better\nword--the External Soul. So long as the External Soul was unharmed the\nman could not be slain. And conversely, its condition would be an\nindex of his. This perhaps is an inconsistency; but logical\nconsistency is not always important to savages. It is evident that if\nthe life be bound up with an object outside the man, the two will\ndecay and die together. The Life-token, therefore, or the External\nSoul, must be carefully tended and watched, so as to preserve it and\npromote its growth and prosperity, and through it the growth and\nprosperity of {442} the person to whom it belongs, and of whom it is a\npart. Any severed fragment of the substance of a man then assumes\nimportance. Though severed, it is, notwithstanding, inseparably\nconnected with him; and injury inflicted upon it would be felt by him.\nOn the other hand, care bestowed upon it and the promotion of its\nwell-being would redound to his advantage. Hence one of the methods of\nwitchcraft was to injure the severed portion of his substance, and one\nof the methods of defence, both against witchcraft and more direct\nattack, was to unite the severed portion with some divinity. But the\nconception of life which regarded it as severable could not be\nconfined to actual portions of the substance. Whatever was closely\nbound up with a man\u2019s personality would be looked upon as part of\nhimself. His clothing and weapons, constantly associated with him,\nwould attract a measure of the consideration due to himself, would be\ndeemed fragments of his identity, would be filled with his life. And\nas his property increased with civilisation it would all be included\nin the same manner, until at last his mere appointment, the exercise\nof that will and of that power which had been instrumental in\nacquiring and guarding his property, became sufficient to create any\nobject his External Soul or Life-token.\n\nWhether observation of the natural phenomenon of birth--the separation\nof a child from its mother\u2019s body--contributed to the evolution of\nthis train of superstition we do not know. We know, however, that,\nparallel with the mode of thought which thus represented the\npersonality as divisible, and, so far as we can ascertain, on the same\nplane of culture with it, a kindred descended in fact or by reputation\nfrom a single mother, was held to be, in much more than a metaphorical\nsense, one body. The kinsmen {443} were one flesh, members one of\nanother, by virtue of their common parent. That parent was, in the\nlowest stage of civilisation in which we can trace it, generally held\nto be a brute, a tree or some other vegetable, occasionally one of the\nheavenly bodies, or even a rock. No difficulty would be felt in this\nby a people who believed in the doctrine of Transformation. The object\nso regarded as parent was the name and emblem of the kin. It was\nsacred; and where, as it usually was, it was fit for food, it was\nnever eaten, save on certain solemn occasions when the kinsmen met to\nsignify and renew their union by partaking of a sacramental meal. When\nthe object was not eatable, it was represented on these occasions by\nanother which could be eaten. As civilisation advanced, the rites of\ntotemism gave place to, or grew into, the worship of anthropomorphic\ngods, and the sacred ancestral object, or _totem_ as it is called,\nsank into a symbol, or attendant, or into a special property of the\ngod who had superseded it.\n\nI have endeavoured to trace the conception of the kindred, or clan, as\none body in a number of archaic practices. Beginning from the formal\nreception into the kin by the blood-covenant, which has been fully\ntreated by Professor Robertson Smith, whose untimely death\nanthropological science will long deplore, and by Dr. Trumbull, we\nhave devoted special attention to sacramental rites of burial and of\nmarriage. Other rites and superstitions have come under notice; nor\nhave we by any means exhausted the subject. We have found the unity of\nthe kin a vital conception penetrating savage life to its core. In the\nwords of Mr. Fison: \u201cTo the savage, the whole gens is the individual,\nand he is full of regard for it. Strike the gens anywhere, and every\nmember of it considers himself {444} struck, and the whole body\ncorporate rises up in arms against the striker. The South Australian\nsavage looks upon the universe as the Great Tribe, to one of whose\ndivisions he himself belongs; and all things, animate and inanimate,\nwhich belong to his class are parts of the body corporate whereof he\nhimself is part. They are \u2018almost parts of himself,\u2019 as Mr. Stewart\nshrewdly remarks.\u201d[444.1] Mr. Stewart would not have erred had he put\nit more strongly still; and the South Australian savages are only in a\nstage through which, there is reason to believe, every other people in\nthe world has passed or is passing: so many and so widely scattered\nare its traces, and so deeply impressed are they upon human\ninstitutions and beliefs.\n\nThe last part of our inquiry has not been useless to our more\nimmediate subject. It has not only shown us how consonant to other\nhuman institutions and human thoughts is the belief in the Life-token\nand the divisibility of the personality; but it has also furnished us\nwith the reason why the life-token was left behind when the hero\nstarted on his adventures, why his brothers followed him, and why in\nmany cases the slaughtered dragon found an avenger. The hero and his\nbrothers were one body. The Medusa-witch, in striking him, struck\nthem; and their plain duty was revenge. So likewise when the hero slew\nthe dragon, the surviving kin of the dragon, whether mother or\nbrother, must in return compass the hero\u2019s death. Moreover, we may see\nin the same conception of life the reason why the mere appointment by\na kinsman is sufficient to create a life-token for the hero. If the\nkinsman be of one body with the hero, separate yet united, his\nappointment would be equivalent to that of the hero himself. He could\ntherefore {445} at any time divine with accuracy as to the condition\nof his absent relative.\n\nIt is perhaps hardly necessary to insist on the universality of the\nchain of beliefs discussed in the present volume. I have tried to put\nbefore the reader instances from every quarter of the globe; and\nthough of course I have not literally proved the beliefs to be\nuniversal, I think I have shown a distribution so wide and general as\nto induce a very strong presumption of their existence among tribes\nthat have passed without mention, and even among tribes of whose\nculture and modes of thought we are as yet ignorant. A conception of\nlife which we know to be held from the shores of the Arctic Ocean to\nthe islands of the Southern Seas we may reasonably believe to be\ninseparable from human thought, at least until it has reached the\nhighest levels of culture; and we may therefore predicate it with\nevery probability not merely of living races whose traditions have yet\nto be explored, but also of the prehistoric dead whose barrows, dumb\non this question, often betray only that other belief to which human\nnature clings everywhere so pathetically--the belief in the life after\ndeath. That belief, we may be sure, was not held alone. As we find it\nin man to-day, so doubtless it was to be found ages ago: only one of a\ncycle of beliefs which we may hope soon to be able to reconstruct, as\nthe geologist builds again a prim\u00e6val monster from a single bone.\n\n [End of vol. II]\n\n\n\n\n ENDNOTES\n\n CHAPTER VIII NOTES\n\n [4.1]\n Day, 71. Here what is probably the more archaic form of the incident,\n namely, the gift of the life-token to at least one of the kin, is\n preserved. The hero of one of Afanasief\u2019s Russian tales gives a cup or\n basin to his six companions. When the cup fills with blood they are to\n come in search of him. ii. _Rev. Trad. Pop._, 376. The gift to other\n than a kinsman is rare; but it occurs in the story of Prince\n Lionheart, and in a Karen tale mentioned just below.\n\n [5.1]\n Steel and Temple, 47.\n\n [5.2]\n Day, 189; _Siddhi-K\u00fcr_, 55; Busk, _Sagas_, 106.\n\n [5.3]\n i. Cosquin, 26, quoting xxxiv. _Journ. As. Soc. Bengal_, pt. 2, 225.\n In a Kabyle tale, apparently a variant of that given _supra_, vol. i.\n p. 60, the hero plants two rods, telling his half-brother to visit\n them every day: \u201cif thou find mine dried up, know that I am dead.\u201d De\n Charencey, _Folklore_, 142, citing Ren\u00e9 Basset, in vi. _Giornale\n della Societ\u00e0 asiatica italiana_.\n\n [5.4]\n ii. _F.L. Journ._, 52.\n\n [5.5]\n Curtin, _Russians_, 239.\n\n [5.6]\n i. Cosquin, 220, citing _Indian Ant._ (1872), 115.\n\n [6.1]\n i. Cosquin, 248.\n\n [6.2]\n Rodd, 249.\n\n [7.1]\n Chatelain, 85, 278.\n\n [7.2]\n Legrand, 191.\n\n [7.3]\n Schneller, 68, Story No. 26.\n\n [7.4]\n Codrington, 401.\n\n [8.1]\n ii. _F.L. Journ._, 130.\n\n [8.2]\n Clouston, i. _Pop. Tales_, 171, citing Wilson\u2019s _Descr. Catalogue of\n Col. Mackenzie\u2019s Oriental MSS._; Swynnerton, _Ind. Nights_, 336;\n Spitta Bey, 125.\n\n [8.3]\n _Early Ideas_, 130.\n\n [8.4]\n Leskien, 547; Wenzig, 140; Wratislaw, 55 (Story No. 9), from Kulda\u2019s\n Moravian collection.\n\n [8.5]\n Denton, 273.\n\n [8.6]\n Jones and Kropf, 257, from Erd\u00e9lyi.\n\n [9.1]\n K\u00f6hler, in a note, ii. Gonzenbach, 230, citing Simrock, No. 40.\n\n [9.2]\n iii. _Suppl. Nights_, 510; _El Folk-lore Andaluz_, 307; Maspons,\n _Cuentos Pop. Cat._ 82 (it is here given by an old man, not by the\n hero); i. _Rond._, 109; ii. Powell and Magn\u00fasson, 431; i. _Rivista_,\n 759.\n\n [9.3]\n i. _M\u00e9lusine_, 209.\n\n [9.4]\n Theal, 77.\n\n [9.5]\n ii. Von Hahn, 215.\n\n [9.6]\n Spitta Bey, _loc. cit._; Maspons, i. _Rond._, _loc. cit._; i.\n _M\u00e9lusine_, 210, 214; v. _Rev. Trad. Pop._, 737; Visentini, 206.\n\n [9.7]\n Burton, iv. _Suppl. Nights_, 245; Spitta Bey, _loc. cit._\n\n [9.8]\n Garnett, i. _Wom._, 23.\n\n [10.1]\n i. Cosquin, 71; Imbriani, 88, 106, 108 (Stories Nos. 6 and 7); i.\n Comparetti, 27 (i. _F.L. Record_, 206), 274; Webster, 169; iv. Pitr\u00e8,\n 350. (In the last three cases the ring is the gift of the Beast to\n Beauty.) Leskien, 548. Clouston also refers to a ballad by Leyden. i.\n _Pop. Tales_, 171.\n\n [10.2]\n iv. Pitr\u00e8, 319 (Story No. 36); Crane, 17.\n\n [10.3]\n i. Comparetti, 26; Imbriani, 388; Leskien, 547; Jones and Kropf, 54,\n from Kriza.\n\n [10.4]\n ii. Von Hahn, 45.\n\n [10.5]\n Leskien, 372.\n\n [10.6]\n Ralston, _Russian F.T._, 66, from Afanasief.\n\n [11.1]\n Leskien, 548, citing Nowosielsky. The dish appears elsewhere in\n Russian tales for the same purpose in connection with a knife and a\n handkerchief. One would hardly have given the Russian peasantry credit\n for being so fastidious; but the explanation must be sought in the\n beliefs discussed in the following chapters.\n\n [11.2]\n _Kalevala_, runes 12, 15.\n\n [11.3]\n Rand, 83.\n\n [11.4]\n ii. Von Hahn, 15.\n\n [11.5]\n _Popol Vuh_, 79.\n\n [11.6]\n i. _Folklore_, 65.\n\n [12.1]\n Erminnie A. Smith, in ii. _Rep. Bur. Ethn._, 94.\n\n [12.2]\n Von Wlislocki, _Armenier_, 146.\n\n [12.3]\n Ralston, _Russian F.T._, 89, from Afanasief.\n\n [12.4]\n Zingerle, _K.- und H.-M\u00e4rchen_, 116. A candle is often found as the\n life itself. Cf. i. _Bib. Trad. Pop. Espa\u00f1._, 176, and a number of\n tales of Godfather Death.\n\n [13.1]\n iv. Pitr\u00e8, 329.\n\n [13.2]\n Leskien, 548, citing Afanasief, etc.\n\n [13.3]\n Leskien, 547.\n\n [13.4]\n Denton, 266.\n\n [13.5]\n Wardrop, 53.\n\n [14.1]\n Featherman, _Papuo- and Malayo-Melanesians_, 283.\n\n [15.1]\n _The Fables and Rites of the Yncas_, by Christoval de Molina, in\n Markham, _Rites and Laws_, 12.\n\n [15.2]\n Clouston, Lane\u2019s _Squire\u2019s Tale_, 299. This book was issued by the\n Chaucer Society. The Folk-Lore Society has obtained the right of\n reissuing it, with additions by Mr. Clouston; and it is to be hoped\n that this will be done ere long. As to modern practices in India, see\n also Burton, _Sindh_, 180; i. _N. Ind. N. and Q._ 85; iv. 51.\n\n [16.1]\n Apuleius, _Discourse on Magic_; Pr\u00f6hle, _Sagen_, 232 (Story No. 173);\n Grimm, _Teut. Myth._ 1770, 1773, 1774, 1775, quoting Hartlieb\u2019s _Book\n of All Forbidden Arts_ (1455); Kohlrusch, 260, note, quoting the same.\n See also Scot, 211; ii. Brand, 604, note; Caxton, ii. _Recuyell_, 414;\n Ostermann, 151.\n\n [16.2]\n Von Wlislocki, _Transs. Zig._, 112 (Story No. 47).\n\n [16.3]\n Pr\u00f6hle, _Sagen_, 32 (Story No. 6). A mirror in a Chinese tale had the\n property of fixing, or photographing, the face of any woman who looked\n into it. The image could only be obliterated by another woman, or the\n same woman in another dress, looking into it. ii. Giles, 32.\n\n [16.4]\n Lubbock, 253, quoting De Faira. Compare a Swedish tale in which a\n lover is shown his sweetheart, by a Lapp magician, in a bucket of\n water. Thorpe, ii. _N. Myth._, 55, from Afzelius.\n\n [16.5]\n Ellis, i. _Polyn. Res._, 378.\n\n [17.1]\n A. W. Moore, in v. _Folklore_, 214, citing _N. and Q._ (1852).\n\n [17.2]\n Winwood Reade, 252; Du Chaillu, _Ashangoland_, 173.\n\n [17.3]\n H. Ling Roth, in xxi. _Journ. Anthr. Inst._, 118.\n\n [17.4]\n Brinton, _Cakchiquels_, 43, 69, 27.\n\n [17.5]\n J. G. Bourke, in ix. _Rep. Bur. Ethn._, 461.\n\n [17.6]\n v. _Am Urquell_, 163; H. Carrington Bolton, in vi. _Journ. Am. F.L._,\n 25. Mr. Andrew Lang, in _Cock Lane and Common Sense_ (London, 1894),\n 212, _et sqq._, has examined the practice of crystal-gazing. He brings\n his wide knowledge of savage and other superstitious purposes to bear\n upon the evidence, and comes to the conclusion that \u201cwe can scarcely\n push scepticism so far as to deny that the facts exist, that\n hallucinations are actually provoked,\u201d by gazing into a ball of\n crystal or glass. Indeed, he suggests that something more than\n hallucination is provoked; but perhaps that is \u201conly his fun.\u201d He does\n not _say_ it.\n\n [18.1]\n i. Comparetti, 269.\n\n [18.2]\n ii. Parkinson, 242. The story connected with this belief is, as Mr.\n Parkinson reproduces it, anything but traditional, and I lay no stress\n on it.\n\n [18.3]\n Pausanias, iii. 25; vii. 21.\n\n [18.4]\n Turner, _Samoa_, 101.\n\n [19.1]\n Busk, _F.L. Rome_, 117.\n\n [19.2]\n Cavallius, 81.\n\n [19.3]\n i. Crantz, 214.\n\n [19.4]\n iv. _Rev. Trad. Pop._, 287.\n\n [19.5]\n Hunt, 290, note, quoting Gilbert, ii. _Parochial Hist. of Cornwall_,\n 121. Montluck Well, Logan, and Saint Mary\u2019s Well, Kilmorie, both in\n Wigtownshire, are resorted to for water for the sick. The waters of\n both have the property of appearing in abundance if the augury be\n favourable; if not, of diminishing. R. C. Hope, in xxviii.\n _Antiquary_, 68, quoting Symson\u2019s _Description of Galloway_ and iv.\n _Statistical Account of Scotland_.\n\n [20.1]\n ii. Brand, 263, note, quoting xii. _Stat. Acc. Scot._, 464. The\n spirits of wells often appear in animal form. See, for example, Von\n Wlislocki, _Volksgl. Mag._, 21. Cf. the water-bull and water-kelpie of\n Scotland.\n\n [20.2]\n ii. Brand, 272, note, quoting _The Living Librarie, or Historical\n Meditations_ (1621), 284.\n\n [21.1]\n Dalyell, 506, quoting Gordon, _MS. Notes and Observations_.\n\n [21.2]\n Lubbock, 244.\n\n [21.3]\n Pausanias, vii. 21.\n\n [21.4]\n Rodd, 185.\n\n [22.1]\n Southey, iv. _Commonplace Book_, 240, quoting an article in the\n _Monthly Magazine_, March 1801, on Cambray\u2019s _Voyage dans le\n Finisterre_.\n\n [22.2]\n ii. Brand, 267, note.\n\n [22.3]\n Drayton, _Polyolbion_, ix. 90; Sir Philip Sidney, _The Seven Wonders\n of England_, in Arber, ii. _Eng. Garner_, 183. Allusions to it by\n Burton, Increase Mather, and others, are quoted, v. _N. and Q._, 8th\n ser., 408; vi. 54.\n\n [23.1]\n Leonard Vair is quoted viii. _Rev. Trad. Pop._, 122; and Wolf, _Nied.\n Sag._, 259 (Story No. 162). Southey, iv. _Commonplace Bk._, 244,\n quotes the same story from another writer, doubtless copied from Vair.\n To dream of a dead fish is in Germany and Austria a presage of death.\n Compare also with the superstitions mentioned in the above paragraph\n the parallel superstition, of which effective use is often made in\n modern literature, and which represents a household clock stopping\n when the head of the family dies. At Pforzheim it was believed that\n when the palace clock was out of order one of the reigning family\n died. Grimm, _Teut. Myth._, 1756, 1806, 1801.\n\n [23.2]\n Grimm, i. _D. Sagen_, 162.\n\n [23.3]\n Von Wlislocki, _Volksgl. Mag._, 22.\n\n [24.1]\n vii. _Rev. Trad. Pop._, 760, quoting Rev. James Sibree in _Proc. R.\n Geog. Soc. of London_, Aug. 1891.\n\n [25.1]\n i. _Tutinameh_, 109.\n\n [25.2]\n i. _Kath\u00e1_, 86.\n\n [25.3]\n Swynnerton, _Ind. Nights_, 188.\n\n [25.4]\n Arany, cited by K\u00f6hler in his notes to _Posilecheata_, 209.\n\n [25.5]\n Rodd, 266.\n\n [26.1]\n ii. Risley, 89.\n\n [26.2]\n Southey, iv. _Commonplace Bk._, 244, quoting a note to Boswell\u2019s\n Shakespeare. The editor, Rev. J. W. Warter, says that the custom was\n common enough within his recollection in Shropshire and Staffordshire.\n\n [26.3]\n Gerv. Tilb., 223, Liebrecht\u2019s Appendix containing extracts from Jean\n Baptiste Thiers, _Trait\u00e9 des Superstitions_, 2nd ed., Paris, 1697.\n\n [26.4]\n x. _Archivio_, 30.\n\n [27.1]\n i. Child, 187, 201. Both variants of the Scottish ballad of _Bonny Bee\n Horn_ also include the incident; and in one of them, not only does the\n ring change colour, but the stone bursts in three. ii. Child, 318.\n\n [27.2]\n Thorpe, _Yule-tide Stories_, 438, from M\u00fcllenhoff. It is a German\n superstition that if a woman lose her garter in the street her husband\n or lover is untrue. Grimm, _Teut. Myth._, 1782, 1824. To lose the\n wedding-ring is a presage of death. _Ibid._, 1808.\n\n [27.3]\n Von Wlislocki, _Volksgl. Mag._, 19.\n\n [30.1]\n Compare Sir John Lubbock\u2019s remarks on the relation between divination\n and sorcery. Lubbock, 245.\n\n [31.1]\n _Popol Vuh_, 141, 191.\n\n [31.2]\n i. Cosquin, 71, citing Gu\u00e9rin, _Vies des Saints_.\n\n [31.3]\n Ellis, iii. _Polyn. Res._, 107.\n\n [31.4]\n Suet., _Vesp._, 5.\n\n [31.5]\n Taylor, 184.\n\n [32.1]\n Hooker, recording the evidence of a resident at Waimate, in i. _Journ.\n Ethn. Soc., N.S._, 72, 73.\n\n [32.2]\n Frazer, ii. _Golden Bough_, 329, citing Matthes, _Bijdragen tot de\n Ethn. van Zuid-Celebes_.\n\n [32.3]\n Burton, _Wit and Wisd._, 411.\n\n [32.4]\n Dr. A. Haas, in v. _Am Urquell_, 253; ii. Bartsch, 43. It seems that\n according to an old German superstition the water in which a baby is\n washed for the first time must be poured on trees. In the Canton of\n Berne it must be poured on a fruitful, or a young, tree; and the\n person charged with this duty must sing or shout, that the child may\n learn to sing or shout well. Ploss, i. _Kind_, 79, citing Rothenbach,\n _Volksth\u00fcml. aus d. Canton Berne_. A similar practice is found in\n Austria. Grimm, _Teut. Myth._, 1807. As a provision against ill-luck\n and witches among the Magyars, the water is thrown half on a crossway\n and half on a willow-tree. Von Wlislocki, _Volksgl. Mag._, 69. The\n Transylvanian Saxons, on the other hand, will not throw it where it\n may be trodden on, lest the child die, or at least lose its sleep. The\n proper place is beneath a tree, that the babe may strengthen. _Ibid._,\n _Volksgl. Siebenb. Sachs._, 154.\n\n [33.1]\n ii. Brand, 453, citing Grose.\n\n [33.2]\n J. M. Currier, in vi. _Journ. Am. F.L._, 69.\n\n [34.1]\n Ploss, i. _Kind_, 79, citing Williams and Calvert; Featherman,\n _Papuo-Mel._, 204.\n\n [34.2]\n Stoll, 68; Dorman, 293.\n\n [34.3]\n ii. Bancroft, 276. Was the future battlefield ascertained by\n divination? Or how could it be known? Or is there some\n misunderstanding on the part of the reporter? Compare the custom at\n Tashkend, whereby, at the birth of a boy, the father buries a\n mutton-bone, or, in the case of a girl, a rag-doll, under the floor of\n the room where the birth has taken place. Schuyler, i. _Turkistan_,\n 140.\n\n [35.1]\n ii. _L\u2019Anthropologie_, 369, citing Jacobs and Meyer, _Les Badoujs_.\n\n [35.2]\n Rev. J. Macdonald, in xx. _Journ. Anthr. Inst._, 132; Frazer, ii.\n _Golden Bough_, 329, citing several authorities. See also Andree, ii.\n _Ethnog. Par._, 21.\n\n [35.3]\n Sibree, 278.\n\n [36.1]\n Quoted by Singer, ii. _Zeits. des Vereins_, 300.\n\n [36.2]\n Featherman, _Oceano-Mel._, 85.\n\n [36.3]\n Ploss, i. _Kind_, 78, 79, citing Rochholz, _Alemann. Kinderlied und\n Kinderspiel_. See also Mannhardt, i. _Baumcultus_, 49, _et seqq._ A\n custom similar to the Piedmontese is practised by the Mohammedans of\n Malabar, who plant a number of seeds of the Brazil-wood (_C\u00e6salpinia\n Sappan_) at the birth of a daughter, whose dowry the trees become when\n grown to maturity. Yule, ii. _Marco Polo_, 315, note.\n\n [37.1]\n De Gubernatis, i. _Myth. Plantes_, xxviii.\n\n [37.2]\n Monseur, 37; ii. _Bull. de F.L._, 148.\n\n [37.3]\n Norman G. Mitchell-Innes, in v. _F.L. Journ._, 223. Compare the\n related superstition mentioned _ante_, vol. i., p. 179. We perhaps\n find in Tirolese folklore a relic of the same superstition in the\n belief that children are fetched from a sacred tree. Zingerle,\n _Sitten_, 2, 100; _Sagen_, 110. I have already (_ante_, vol. i., p.\n 154, note) referred to the English saying that children come out of\n the parsley-bed, and (_ibid._, p. 151, note) to the fancy of mothers\n in the New Hebrides that a child is connected in origin with a\n cocoa-nut, bread-fruit, or some such object.\n\n [37.4]\n Mrs. F. D. Bergen, in iv. _Journ. Am. F.L._, 152. Mrs. Bergen informs\n me she obtained this on \u201cthe eastern peninsula of Maryland, near\n Chestertown, opposite Baltimore.\u201d\n\n [38.1]\n Leland, _Gip. Sorc._, 53. Compare a German superstition, Grimm, _Teut.\n Myth._, 1818 (956).\n\n [38.2]\n Gregor, 148.\n\n [38.3]\n The shrubbery grew from a laurel wreath dropped, in a chicken\u2019s beak,\n by an eagle into Livia\u2019s bosom after her marriage. Suet., _Galba_, 1.\n\n [38.4]\n Yule, i. _Marco Polo_, 394 (bk. ii., ch. 28).\n\n [39.1]\n Bernau, 59.\n\n [39.2]\n Mannhardt, i. _Baumcultus_, 48.\n\n [39.3]\n Frazer, ii. _Golden Bough_, 329. Mr. Frazer also notices that in the\n Cameroons the life of a person is believed to be sympathetically bound\n up with that of a tree; but it does not appear how this is believed to\n arise. Here, perhaps, I may call the attention of students to the\n following superstitions as yet unexplained. The Makololo of the\n Zambesi Valley object to plant mangoes, lest they die. (Does the mango\n in growing absorb the planter\u2019s life?) The native Portuguese of Tette\n think that a man who plants coffee will never be happy after.\n Livingstone, _Zambesi_, 47. In Southern India the person who sows\n cocoa-nut seed is expected to die when the trees which grow from the\n seeds he has planted bear fruit. Pandit Natesa Sastri, in i. _N. Ind.\n N. and Q._, 101. On Bowditch Island in the South Pacific Ocean\n cocoa-nuts could only be planted on the king\u2019s death: he who planted\n them at other times would die. Lister, in xxi. _Journ. Anthr. Inst._,\n 54. In Devonshire and Gloucestershire parsley must not be\n transplanted. Dyer, 3; _County F.L., Gloucestershire_, 54. I have\n found the superstition still rife in Gloucestershire.\n\n [39.4]\n Featherman, _Papuo-Mel._, 152.\n\n [40.1]\n Von Wlislocki, in iii. _Am Urquell_, 9.\n\n [40.2]\n Ploss, ii. _Kind_, 221.\n\n [40.3]\n Prof. V. M. Mikhailovskii, translated by O. Wardrop, in xxiv. _Journ.\n Anthr. Inst._, 83.\n\n [41.1]\n ii. _Journ. Am. F.L._, 187.\n\n [41.2]\n v. _Records of the Past, N.S._, ix. Prof. Sayce has some little doubt\n about the reading; but the sense appears clear enough.\n\n [41.3]\n \u201cThe squaws generally agreed that they had discovered life enough in\n them [the portraits he had painted] to render my _medicine_ too great\n for the Mandans, saying that such an operation could not be performed\n without taking away from the original something of his existence,\n which I put in the picture, and they could see it move, could see it\n stir.\u2026 A great many have become again alarmed, and are unwilling to\n sit, for fear, as some say, that they will die prematurely if painted;\n and as others say, that if they are painted the picture will live\n after they are dead, and they cannot sleep quiet in their graves.\u201d i.\n Catlin, 107, 109.\n\n [42.1]\n ii. Witzschel, 251. Cf. the superstition known from Britain to\n Transylvania, that if bread in baking start, or a glass in the house\n break without apparent cause, there will be a death.\n\n [42.2]\n Backhouse, 104.\n\n [43.1]\n i. Cosquin, 71.\n\n [43.2]\n Ostermann, 476.\n\n [43.3]\n Jones and Kropf, lxiv.\n\n [43.4]\n Tanner, 155.\n\n [44.1]\n Miss Owen, _Old Rabbit_, 178, 169.\n\n [44.2]\n i. Giles, 306.\n\n [44.3]\n Pliny, _Nat. Hist._, xxix. 22; Jevons, Plutarch\u2019s _Romane Questions_,\n xlvii. See a curious tale pointing to a modern survival of this\n belief, Pigorini-Beri, 58. In Switzerland at the present day, if a\n peasant have a son born and a foal or lamb dropped at the same time,\n the same name is given to both. Ploss, i. _Kind_, 189. Among the Poles\n (who have, it may be remarked, a great regard for snakes) a secret\n connection is believed to exist between cattle and lizards. Every cow\n is held to have a particular lizard as its guardian. If the lizard be\n killed, the cow will die, or at least will give blood instead of milk.\n iii. _Am Urquell_, 272. This can hardly be said to favour Mr. Frazer\u2019s\n totemistic theory. See also vii. _Rep. Bur. Ethn._, 152; Burton, _Wit\n and Wisd._, 390. The belief in widely separated countries like\n Sardinia and India that it is lucky to have a snail in the house\n appears to be connected with this superstition. See i. _Rivista_, 221.\n\n [45.1]\n Rev. J. Macdonald, in xx. _Journ. Anthr. Inst._, 131; Lubbock, 245,\n quoting Arbousset\u2019s _Tour to the Cape of Good Hope_.\n\n [45.2]\n Le Page Renouf, in xi. _Proc. Soc. Bibl. Arch._, 185, citing\n Am\u00e9lineau\u2019s translation. Compare the life-token in the story of _The\n Two Brothers, supr\u00e0_, vol. i., p. 183.\n\n [46.1]\n Prof. Haddon, in xix. _Journ. Anthr. Inst._, 326.\n\n [46.2]\n Le Braz, 6.\n\n [47.1]\n Banks, _The Albion Queens_, quoted by Prof. Dr. George Stephens in ii.\n _F.L. Record_, 200; Gregor, 204; Von Wlislocki, _Volksgl. Siebenb.\n Sachs._, 190. In an Icelandic tale three drops of blood fall on the\n knife while eating, to announce a brother\u2019s death. iii. _Am Urquell_,\n 5, citing Arnason.\n\n [47.2]\n Grimm, _Teut. Myth._, 1837; Thorpe, ii. _Northern Myth._, 273: both\n quoting Thiele.\n\n [47.3]\n Grimm, _Teut. Myth._, 1744, 1745.\n\n [48.1]\n Kuhn und Schwartz, 436.\n\n [48.2]\n _Suffolk County F.L._, 30.\n\n [48.3]\n Grimm, _Teut. Myth._, 1788. Compare the Sardinian augury from piles of\n salt. i. _Rivista_, 221.\n\n [48.4]\n Herrmann, in iv. _Zeits. des Vereins_, 310, 311.\n\n [48.5]\n L. L. Duncan, in v. _Folklore_, 192; vi. _Journ. Am. F.L._, 261.\n\n [48.6]\n ii. Witzschel, 254. Auguries as to the following harvest are drawn by\n the Huzules from the burning of fruit with beechen brands on New\n Year\u2019s Night. Kaindl, 73. As to auguries at a baptism from the putting\n out of the candle, see xii. _Archivio_, 530.\n\n [49.1]\n Kuhn und Schwartz, 431; Thorpe, iii. _N. Myth._, 160. At Buvrinner in\n Hainaut pilgrimages are often made on behalf of the sick. On such an\n occasion candles are lighted on the altar of the saint invoked. If the\n flame be steady, it is a good sign; if it be wavering, a bad sign. ix.\n _Rev. Trad. Pop._, 489.\n\n [49.2]\n Grimm, _Teut. Myth._, 1790, 1793.\n\n [49.3]\n ii. Powell and Magn\u00fasson, 641, from Arnason.\n\n [49.4]\n Plutarch, _Rom. Quest._, No. 75.\n\n [49.5]\n ii. Witzschel, 226, 231; Grimm, _Teut. Myth._, 1843, 1794; Finamore,\n _Trad. Pop. Abr._, 52; Ostermann, 348, 476; Krauss, _Sitte und\n Brauch_, 396; Le Braz, 5. Compare the \u201cwedding candlestick\u201d at an\n Irish wedding, v. _Folklore_, 188. In the province of Siena the\n chances of life are calculated according as the candle in the church\n gives greater or less light. xiii. _Archivio_, 412.\n\n [50.1]\n Grimm, _Teut. Myth._, 1835; Thorpe, iii. _N. Myth._, 271: both quoting\n Thiele.\n\n [50.2]\n Von Wlislocki, _Volksgl. Siebenb. Sachs._, 56, 75; iv. _Zeits. des\n Vereins_, 316.\n\n [50.3]\n Taylor, 205 (cf. also, 178); Lubbock, 245, citing Yate\u2019s _New\n Zealand_.\n\n [51.1]\n Von Wlislocki, _Volksgl. Zig._, 148.\n\n [51.2]\n Moore, 125, 140; v. _Folklore_, 214.\n\n\n\n\n CHAPTER IX NOTES\n\n [56.1]\n ii. Von Hahn, 33, referred to _supr\u00e0_, vol. i., p. 81.\n\n [56.2]\n _Supr\u00e0_, vol. i., p. 213; J\u00fclg, 53; Ovid, _Metam._, viii. 848. So in\n the island of Florida, when a man sells a pig he takes back its\n _tarunga_, or soul, in a drac\u00e6na-leaf, which he hangs up in his\n house, not, however, to recall the identical animal sold, but to\n animate another pig, when littered. Codrington, 249. This explains a\n custom in the south of France. When a farmer sells a calf he cuts off\n a piece of its hair and makes the cow swallow it, \u201cso that she may not\n regret her calf, and that a better price may be got for it.\u201d ix. _Rev.\n Trad. Pop._, 581. The original reason doubtless was that the calf\n might be born again of her.\n\n [57.1]\n See, among others, Schott, 198 (Story No. 18); Pineau, _F.L._, 145\n (Story No. 5); Luzel, ii. _Contes Pop._, 95 (Story No. 5); Coelho, 33\n (Story No. 15); Luzel, _Le Magicien_, 28, citing Straparola, Night\n viii., Story 5; Visentini, 37 (Story No. 8).\n\n [57.2]\n Steel, 15; Gibb, 255.\n\n [57.3]\n Dorsey, _Cegiha_, 56; Rand, 196, 248; vii. _Journ. Am. F.L._, 210.\n\n [58.1]\n See, among others, Dozon, 89 (Story No. 12); Von Wlislocki, _Transs.\n Zig._, 111 (Story No. 47); _Volksdicht._, 286 (Story No. 44); Romero,\n 4 (Story No. 1); ii. Stumme, 62 (Story No. 4); B\u00fcttner, 122;\n Georgeakis, 72 (Story No. 11); Wardrop, 30. In many cases the severed\n member has the power, which would have belonged to its owner, of\n changing the hero, so long as it is in his possession, into an animal\n of the same kind. For instance, Wolf, _Deutsche M\u00e4rchen_, 88 (Story\n No. 20); Poestion, 212 (Story No 51); i. Cosquin, 166 (Story No. 15);\n Carnoy, _Contes Fran\u00e7._, 276; i. Comparetti, 240 (Story No. 55); v.\n Pitr\u00e8, 215 (variant of Story No. 81), 386 (Story No. 106); i.\n Finamore, pt. i., 90 (Story No. 19).\n\n [58.2]\n Schneller, 47 (Story No. 21). The spell is more usually performed by\n the aid of some toy given by the hero, as in iv. Pitr\u00e8, 342 (Story\n No. 38).\n\n [59.1]\n Jahn, _Volkssagen_, 148 (Story No. 182). In a Micmac legend the hero\n is bidden to take a handful of hair of the moose or any other animal\n rolled up between fingers and thumb, and blow it away. He will then be\n able to see all the animals of that kind for a long distance around.\n Rand, 358.\n\n [60.1]\n H. Ling Roth, in xxi. _Journ. Anthrop. Inst._, 112. The Kayans, one of\n the peoples of Borneo, employ the teeth of tiger-cats in taking an\n oath. The person swearing holds the teeth in his hand and calls on\n them to harm him if he be not speaking the truth. This seems to be\n another example of the same superstition. C. Hose, in xxiii. _ibid._,\n 165.\n\n [60.2]\n ii. Grundtvig, 115.\n\n [61.1]\n Wratislaw, 115 (Story No. 17), from Glinski.\n\n [61.2]\n Woycicki, 128. The story is a fragment. The incident it contains\n usually forms the opening of the Catskin type of Cinderella stories.\n See Miss Cox\u2019s _Cinderella, passim_.\n\n [62.1]\n Grimm, i. _Tales_, 414, 224 (Story No. 56 and variant).\n\n [62.2]\n Theal, 123, 118. Compare the power of self-reconstitution from a\n feather in the Cegiha tale referred to on p. 57.***\n\n [62.3]\n Dorsey, 18. Parallel with the development of the Life-token, we find\n the spittle or blood sometimes omitted, and objects, which have never\n been part of the heroine, endowed at her command with the power of\n answering in her name. See vii. _Rev. Trad. Pop._, 29; Rand, 163.\n\n [63.1]\n Von Wlislocki, in iii. _Am Urquell_, 66.\n\n [63.2]\n Grimm, ii. _Tales_, 10 (Story No. 89).\n\n [65.1]\n The Earl himself presided at some of the examinations, though it is\n fair to say that, so far as appears, the charges of bewitching his\n children were not gone into before him. The British Solomon, his royal\n master, was not so scrupulous. ii. Nichols, pt. i., App. ix., 70,\n reprinting a pamphlet of 1619, giving a full report of the case.\n\n [65.2]\n G. B. Corsi, in x. _Archivio_, 30; Leland, _Etruscan_, 329. An\n extraordinary ritual for this purpose is quoted by De Mensignac from\n \u00c9liphas L\u00e9vi. De Mensignac, 45. Another prescription quoted by\n Leland (_Etruscan_, 241) is for the maiden to take some of her\n faithless lover\u2019s hair and to invoke the aid of Saint Elisha against\n him, at midnight in a cellar.\n\n [66.1]\n Felicina Giannini-Finucci, in xi. _Archivio_, 448. It seems enough in\n Lucca for a deserted girl to wind her own hair round the toad\u2019s legs,\n or to introduce it into a cigar, in order to cause anguish to her\n betrayer. _Ibid._, 453.\n\n [66.2]\n xvii. Pitr\u00e8, 115. See also Zanetti, 234; i. _Rivista_, 134, 319;\n Ostermann, 511; De Mensignac, 48, note; Andree, ii. _Ethnog. Par._,\n 11, 12; Grimm, _Teut. Myth._, 1799, 1836; Zingerle, _Sitten_, 28.\n\n [66.3]\n Leland, _Etruscan_, 328. (The other substance was illegible in the\n manuscript charm supplied to Mr. Leland. Compare the Tirolese tale\n cited above, p. 58.) Ostermann, 517.\n\n [66.4]\n Addy, 74. Bodin, 369, relates a curious tale of a lascivious devil who\n got a girl into his power by inducing her to give him a lock of her\n hair. Barham has made powerful use of this incident in the _Ingoldsby\n Leg._ (\u201cA Passage in the Life of the late H. Harris, D.D.\u201d).\n\n [67.1]\n Monseur, 91; i. _M\u00e9lusine_, 79, citing Auguste Hock; E. Polain, in\n ii. _Bull. de F.L._, 145; J. B. Andrews, in ix. _Rev. Trad. Pop._,\n 256. In the Tirol hairs not spit upon before being thrown away are\n used by witches in the manufacture of hailstones and storms. Zingerle,\n _Sitten_, 28.\n\n [67.2]\n O. Schell, in iii. _Am Urquell_, 211; Von Wlislocki, _Volksgl.\n Siebenb. Sachs._, 150.\n\n [67.3]\n Schiffer, in iii. _Am Urquell_, 151, citing Federowski.\n\n [67.4]\n Featherman, _Turanians_, 510.\n\n [68.1]\n Von Wlislocki, _Volksgl. der Mag._, 136; _Volksgl. Siebenb. Sachs._,\n 201.\n\n [68.2]\n Von Wlislocki, _Volksleben Mag._, 78.\n\n [68.3]\n W. J. Hoffman, M.D., in ii. _Journ. Am. F.L._, 32.\n\n [68.4]\n Kane, 216.\n\n [68.5]\n Mrs. S. S. Allison, in xxi. _Journ. Anthr. Inst._, 314. On the Rio\n Grande people are warned to burn their hair, and not to throw it in\n the path of others, lest it do the latter harm, and never to pick up\n human hair lying in the road, especially women\u2019s. J. G. Bourke, in\n vii. _Journ. Am. F.L._, 136. This is an inversion of the ordinary\n superstition.\n\n [68.6]\n Featherman, _Aoneo-Mar._, 447.\n\n [69.1]\n Lieut. Musters, in i. _Journ. Anthr. Inst._, 197; Featherman,\n _Chiapo-Mar._, 499; Bourke, 346.\n\n [69.2]\n Von den Steinen, 343.\n\n [69.3]\n Andree, ii. _Ethnog. Par._, 14.\n\n [69.4]\n Ellis, i. _Polyn. Res._, 364.\n\n [69.5]\n E. Tregear, in xix. _Journ. Anthr. Inst._, 116; Featherman,\n _Oceano-Mel._, 213.\n\n [70.1]\n Rev. Dr. Codrington, in x. _Journ. Anthr. Inst._, 283.\n\n [70.2]\n Codrington, 203; Featherman, _Oceano-Mel._, 93.\n\n [70.3]\n Lubbock, 246, quoting _Fiji and the Fijians_.\n\n [70.4]\n H. O. Forbes, in xiii. _Journ. Anthr. Inst._, 17.\n\n [71.1]\n Dawson 36, 55.\n\n [71.2]\n A. W. Howitt, in xvi. _Journ. Anthr. Inst._, 27; i. Curr, 46; iii.\n 178, 547; Andree, ii. _Ethnog. Par._, 14; Roth, 77. Cf. Bourke, 146.\n\n [72.1]\n xiii. _Journ. Anthr. Inst._, 17.\n\n [72.2]\n Andree, ii. _Ethnog. Par._, 13; Wilken, _Haaropfer_, 80; both citing\n Riedel.\n\n [72.3]\n iv. _N. Ind. N. and Q._, 35, quoting _Settlement Report_ by Mr. F. C.\n Channing.\n\n [72.4]\n Burton, _Sindh_, 179.\n\n [72.5]\n ix. _Rev. Trad. Pop._, 252, citing _Voyages d\u2019Ali Bey el Abassi_.\n\n [72.6]\n ii. Risley, 208.\n\n [73.1]\n Ellis, _Ewe-speaking Peoples_, 99.\n\n [73.2]\n Livingstone, _Zambesi_, 46.\n\n [73.3]\n Casalis, 292. For similar superstitions see Featherman, _Nigr._, 185,\n 475; v. _M\u00e9lusine_, 258; Andree, ii. _Ethnog. Par._, 13, citing\n Buchner, Fritsch and Hildebrandt; Du Chaillu, _Equat. Afr._, 427.\n\n [73.4]\n ii. _Antigua_, 65.\n\n [74.1]\n _Congress Report_ (1891), 244, 235.\n\n [74.2]\n iii. _Am Urquell_, 5.\n\n [74.3]\n Grimm, _Teut. Myth._, 1822.\n\n [74.4]\n Von Wlislocki, in iv. _Am Urquell_, 69. In Hungary the sole of the\n corpse\u2019s left foot must be rubbed with the blood.\n\n [75.1]\n A. F. D\u00f6rfler, in iv. _Am Urquell_, 268, 269, 270; Von Wlislocki,\n _Volksleb. Mag._, 70, 71.\n\n [75.2]\n iv. _Folklore_, 358, 361.\n\n [75.3]\n But why, as in India, should stolen images of gods be held more\n valuable than any others? See iii. _N. Ind. N. and Q._, 118.\n\n [76.1]\n vii. _Rep. Bur. Ethn._, 392.\n\n [76.2]\n Ensign Niblack, in _Rep. Nat. Mus._ (1888), 354, quoting Dunn\u2019s\n _History of the Oregon Territory_.\n\n [76.3]\n See, in addition to cases already cited, Kane, 216; De Mensignac, 47,\n _et seqq._; E. Tregear, in xix. _Journ. Anthr. Inst._, 123; i. Binger,\n 113.\n\n [76.4]\n Codrington, 203. Even a stone drawn out of a sick man\u2019s body by a\n medicine-man among the aborigines of Hayti seems to have been regarded\n in the same magical light. The patient was adjured to \u201ckeep it safe.\u201d\n H. Ling Roth, in xvi. _Journ. Anthr. Inst._, 254.\n\n [77.1]\n Dawson, 12, 54; iii. Curr, 178, 547; Featherman, _Oceano-Mel._, 93;\n _Papuo-Mel._, 479; Ellis, _Ewe-speaking Peoples_, 99; iii. _Am\n Urquell_, 150, 269 (a Magyar belief as to the cause of a woman\u2019s\n barrenness; see also Von Wlislocki, _Volksleb. Mag._, 76); iv., 211;\n Zingerle, _Sitten_, 73; ii. Witzschel, 270; i. _M\u00e9lusine_, 348;\n Monseur, 92; Bourke, 146, 153, 378, 390, 465; Von Wlislocki, _Volksgl.\n Siebenb. Sachs._, 52; Andree, ii. _Ethnog. Par._, 11, 16. The same\n superstition seems referred to in an ancient Egyptian festival song,\n lii. _Arch\u00e6ologia_, 408, 471.\n\n [77.2]\n F. Bonney, in xiii. _Journ. Anthr. Inst._, 128.\n\n [78.1]\n A. W. Howitt, in xiii. _Journ. Anthr. Inst._, 456.\n\n [78.2]\n E. Polain, in ii. _Bulletin de Folklore_, 10.\n\n [78.3]\n Mrs. Latham, in i. _F.L. Record_, 44; _County F.L., Suffolk_, 132.\n\n [78.4]\n For a similar reason Pythagoras also directed his disciples on rising\n from bed to shake out the impress of the body. Clem. Alex.,\n _Stromata_, v. See also Diog. Laert., _Vita Pyth._, xvii.\n\n [79.1]\n Andree, ii. _Ethnog. Par._, 8, 9, 11, 12; P. Sartori, in iv. _Zeits.\n des Vereins_, 42, 43, citing various authorities; _Am Urquell_, 289;\n Grimm, _Teut. Myth._, 1747, 1798, 1799, 1814, 1819. A horse may be\n lamed by thrusting a knife or nail into his fresh footprint. _Ibid._,\n 1821, 1823.\n\n [79.2]\n xii. _Archivio_, 536; Leland, _Etruscan_, 301; iv. _Zeits. des\n Vereins_, 42, 43. There is a curious Assyrian incantation from\n Assurbanipal\u2019s collection, the translation of which is uncertain, but\n which appears to refer to these practices. Lenormant renders the line:\n \u201cHe has torn my garment and dragged it in the dust of my feet.\u201d This\n is not a sorcerer\u2019s proceeding; and it is of a sorcerer that complaint\n is made. Dr. Bartels gives, I know not whence, the more probable\n reading: \u201cHe has torn my clothes and mixed his magical herb with the\n dust of my feet.\u201d Lenormant, 61; Bartels, 34. Dr. Bartels deliberately\n deprives his works of the greater part of their value by his omission\n of references.\n\n [80.1]\n Von Wlislocki, _Volksleb. Mag._, 81.\n\n [80.2]\n ii. Train, 157.\n\n [80.3]\n Moore, 95. Cf. Prof. Rhys, in ii. _Folklore_, 298.\n\n [80.4]\n _County F.L., Suffolk_, 201.\n\n [80.5]\n iv. _Journ. Amer. F.L._, 254, 152.\n\n [81.1]\n J. H. Porter, in vii. _Journ. Amer. F.L._, 113.\n\n [81.2]\n Tylor, _Early Hist._, 119. They are said also to stick poisoned claws\n of animals into the footprints. iv. _Zeits. des Vereins_, 43.\n\n [81.3]\n H. Ling Roth, in xxii. _Journ. Anthr. Inst._, 235, citing A. R.\n Colquhoun, _Amongst the Shans_.\n\n [81.4]\n Ellis, _Ewe-speaking Peoples_, 94.\n\n [81.5]\n A. W. Howitt, in xvi. _Journ. Anthr. Inst._, 26.\n\n [81.6]\n Dawson, 54.\n\n [82.1]\n Hoffman, in vii. _Rep. Bur. Ethn._, 221.\n\n [82.2]\n F. H. Cushing, in ii. _Rep. Bur. Ethn._, 120.\n\n [82.3]\n iv. _Zeits. des Vereins_, 43.\n\n [82.4]\n Von Wlislocki, _Volksgl. Sieb. Sachs._, 120.\n\n [82.5]\n i. _Sax. Leechd._, 392. The words \u201cinto the hoof-track,\u201d are not\n expressed; but the translator is almost certainly right in supplying\n them.\n\n [83.1]\n Powell, 171.\n\n [83.2]\n Codrington, 183, 188; iv. _Rep. Austr. Ass._, 711. Cf. Codrington, 49,\n 52 note, 203; B. T. Somerville, in xxiii. _Journ. Anthr. Inst._, 19.\n\n [84.1]\n Codrington, in x. _Journ. Anthr. Inst._, 309.\n\n [84.2]\n See for example Dawson, 54; i. Curr, 46, 49; ii. 245, 247; iii. 547;\n A. W. Howitt, in xvi. _Journ. Anthr. Inst._, 29; Featherman,\n _Papuo-Mel._, 53, 76, 179, 222; _Oceano-Mel._, 55, 93, 213; Turner,\n _Polynesia_, 89; Ellis, i. _Polyn. Res._, 364; viii. _Rev. Trad.\n Pop._, 59; Andree, ii. _Ethnog. Par._, 15, 16; Letourneau, _L\u2019\u00c9v.\n Rel._, 39, citing Taplin; Lubbock, 246, 250. Was not some reason of\n this kind at the bottom of the taboo mentioned by Lubbock, 453?\n\n [84.3]\n Rev. J. Batchelor, in vii. _Journ. Am. F.L._, 36.\n\n [84.4]\n Von Wlislocki, _Volksgl. Mag._, 84, 88.\n\n [85.1]\n i. _Zeits. des Vereins_, 189.\n\n [85.2]\n Knoop, _Posen_, 88.\n\n [85.3]\n Grimm, _Teut. Myth._, 1784, 1805.\n\n [85.4]\n Monseur, 90; Ostermann, 515. Cf. _Science of Fairy Tales_, 142, _et\n seqq._ There is a custom almost universal among the aborigines of\n America of preserving the bones of animals eaten; but it cannot at\n present be certainly ascribed to the order of ideas treated of in this\n chapter. I reserve it, therefore, for further investigation.\n\n [86.1]\n viii. _Rev. Trad. Pop._, 331, quoting Gmelin, _Voyage en Sib\u00e9rie_.\n\n [86.2]\n Von Wlislocki, _Volksgl. Sieb. Sachs._, 160.\n\n [86.3]\n W. J. Hoffman, M.D., in ii. _Journ. Am. F.L._, 32.\n\n [86.4]\n Andree, ii. _Ethnog. Par._, 12.\n\n [87.1]\n xviii. Pitr\u00e8, 129.\n\n [87.2]\n J. B. Andrews, in ix. _Rev. Trad. Pop._, 255.\n\n [87.3]\n Leland, _Etruscan_, 354.\n\n [87.4]\n G. Sajaktzis, in iv. _Zeits. des Vereins_, 142. The Belgian\n prescription is to throw the babe\u2019s first bathwater on the fire, never\n into the street or the ordinary sewer, for fear of spells. ii. _Bull.\n de F.L._, 144. Cf. the German superstition that to rock an empty\n cradle deprives the baby of rest. Grimm, _Teut. Myth._, 1778.\n\n [87.5]\n J. Tuchmann, in vi. _M\u00e9lusine_, 108, 115. In Posen a shred of the\n bedclothes of the supposed witch is hung in the chimney. If a child be\n the victim, a bit of the witch\u2019s clothing is burnt and the child\n fumigated with the smoke. Knoop, _Posen_, 87, 88. In the Abruzzi, a\n portion of the witch\u2019s dress is simply put on the affected animal.\n Finamore, _Trad. Pop. Abr._, 178.\n\n [88.1]\n Von Wlislocki, _Volksdicht._, 154.\n\n [88.2]\n Featherman, _Nigritians_, 347.\n\n [88.3]\n Theal, 78.\n\n [88.4]\n xvi. _Journ. Anthr. Inst._, 29; i. Curr, 46; Dawson, 54.\n\n [88.5]\n Featherman, _Oceano-Mel._, 213; Lubbock, 247, quoting Tanner. Similar\n was the belief of the people of the New Hebrides. xxiii. _Journ.\n Anthr. Inst._, 19.\n\n [89.1]\n iv. _Rep. Austr. Ass._, 653.\n\n [89.2]\n Featherman, _Oceano-Mel._, 137.\n\n [89.3]\n Countess Martinengo-Cesaresco, 242.\n\n [89.4]\n ii. Witzschel, 252, 258, 260; Grimm, _Teut. Myth._, 1823, 1837; Von\n Wlislocki, _Volksgl. Sieb. Sachs._, 196; Strack, 56, quoting\n Mannhardt. Especially, says Witzschel, if the survivor have perspired\n in it.\n\n [90.1]\n iii. _Am Urquell_, 53; T\u00f6ppen, 101.\n\n [90.2]\n Von Wlislocki, _Volksgl. Sieb. Sachs._, 199, 200, 195.\n\n [90.3]\n ii. Witzschel, 258.\n\n [90.4]\n Featherman, _Chiapo-Mar._, 277.\n\n [90.5]\n Reclus, 103.\n\n [91.1]\n Ploss, i. _Weib_, 504. Compare with this the Austrian superstition\n that if women come in while another is in labour they shall quickly\n take their aprons off and tie them round her, _or they will be barren\n themselves_. Grimm, _Teut. Myth._, 1806. That is to say, the aprons\n will, when restored to their owners, be a bond of connection between\n them and the child-bearing woman, so as to communicate to them her\n virtue.\n\n [92.1]\n De Acosta, 378.\n\n [92.2]\n Ellis, iii. _Polyn. Res._, 108. Cf. Murdoch, in ix. _Rep. Bur. Ethn._,\n 438; Turner, _Polynesia_, 338; Roth, 76; Bourke, in vii. _Journ. Am.\n F.L._, 120.\n\n [93.1]\n Featherman, _Nigr._, 111.\n\n [93.2]\n Speke, 531.\n\n [93.3]\n Prof. Rhys, in iii. _Folklore_, 84.\n\n [93.4]\n Moore, 82.\n\n [93.5]\n Grimm, _Teut. Myth._, 1830, 1846.\n\n [93.6]\n Andree, ii. _Ethnog. Par._, 11.\n\n [94.1]\n Zingerle, _Sitten_, 73; Featherman, _Papuo-Mel._, 222. At Mentone,\n sorcery upon cattle may be counteracted by making the animal eat\n vegetables stolen from the witch. ix. _Rev. Trad. Pop._, 255.\n\n [94.2]\n Bartels, 31.\n\n [94.3]\n Roth, in xxii. _Journ. Anthr. Inst._, 56.\n\n [95.1]\n i. Brand, 11, note; Henderson, 74; Prof. Haddon, in iv. _Folklore_,\n 357; ii. Witzschel, 278; Grimm, _Teut. Myth._, 1781, 1798, 1812;\n T\u00f6ppen, 72, 91; Wolf, _Niederl. Sag._, 475 (Story No. 391).\n Illustrations might be multiplied indefinitely.\n\n [95.2]\n i. Crantz, 215.\n\n [95.3]\n Chandra Roy\u2019s English translation of the _Mahabh._, quoted by\n Clouston, iv. _Folklore_, 256.\n\n [95.4]\n Turner, _Polynesia_, 319.\n\n [96.1]\n iii. Bancroft, 507.\n\n [96.2]\n i. Garcilasso, 220.\n\n [96.3]\n Dr. Meyners d\u2019Estrey, in iv. _L\u2019Anthropologie_, 625, citing and\n reviewing Baron van H\u0153vell, _Todjo, Posso, et Saousou_.\n\n [96.4]\n Josh. vii. 24-26.\n\n [97.1]\n i. De Groot, 60.\n\n [97.2]\n Grimm, _Teut. Myth._, 1780, 1782, 1803, 1806.\n\n [99.1]\n Ellis, _Ewe-speaking Peoples_, 95, 98.\n\n [99.2]\n Lubbock, 246, quoting Pinkerton.\n\n [99.3]\n _Ibid._, citing Williams, _Fiji and the Fijians_.\n\n [99.4]\n ii. _Rep. Austr. Assn._, 341.\n\n [100.1]\n xvii. Pitr\u00e8, 129.\n\n [100.2]\n Dr. Krauss, in iii. _Am Urquell_, 174. The words of the spell indicate\n a wider object than the specific one mentioned.\n\n [101.1]\n Bodin, 337, 367, citing Saint Jerome\u2019s _Life of Saint Hilarion_.\n Concerning Hilarion\u2019s sense of smell, see Middleton, 89.\n\n [101.2]\n Turner, _Polynesia_, 394.\n\n [101.3]\n i. Macdonald, 204.\n\n [101.4]\n Von Wlislocki, _Volksgl. Sieb. Sachs._, 118.\n\n [101.5]\n B. W. Schiffer, in iii. _Am Urquell_, 200.\n\n [102.1]\n T\u00f6ppen, 101.\n\n [102.2]\n vii. _Rev. Trad. Pop._, 617.\n\n [103.1]\n Henderson, 223, 175. See also Addy, 73, 79, 80, for analogous examples\n in this country.\n\n [103.2]\n Scot, 219.\n\n [104.1]\n Quoted by Liebrecht, _Gerv. Tilb._, 119, 220, from Jean Bapt. Thiers,\n _Trait\u00e9 des Superstitions_, 1697. Modern examples may be found in\n iii. _Am Urquell_, 84; Von Wlislocki, _Volksgl. Mag._, 75; vi.\n _M\u00e9lusine_, 32. The psalm is cix. in our Bibles.\n\n [105.1]\n I have given two versions of this legend, vi. _F.L. Journal_, 125. See\n also iv. _M\u00e9lusine_, 122; Sauv\u00e9, 238; Thorpe, iii. _N. Myth._, 9,\n from M\u00fcllenhoff; M\u00fcller, _Siebenb. Sagen_, 148.\n\n [105.2]\n Knoop, in iii. _Zeits. des Volksk._, 233.\n\n [107.1]\n Emma Altmann, in iv. _Zeits. f. Volksk._, 271.\n\n [107.2]\n Thorpe, ii. _N. Myth._, 189, from Thiele. An analogous case is given\n by Ostermann, 515, as occurring at Friuli.\n\n [107.3]\n ii. _Folklore_, 292.\n\n [107.4]\n Ellis, _Ewe-speaking Peoples_, 51.\n\n [108.1]\n C. A. Frazer, in vi. _Journ. Am. F.L._, 191.\n\n [108.2]\n ii. Witzschel, 267; Wolf, _Nied. Sagen_, 343; Grimm, _Teut. Myth._,\n 1803. The superstition has been carried in this form by Germans across\n the Atlantic. iv. _Journ. Am. F.L._, 324; vii. 114.\n\n [108.3]\n Von Wlislocki, _Volksgl. Zig._, 111.\n\n [109.1]\n _County F.L., Suffolk_, 190, quoting Zincke\u2019s _Materials for the\n History of Wherstead_.\n\n [109.2]\n Edward Peacock, in ii. _F.L. Journ._, 122, quoting Drakard\u2019s _Stamford\n News_ for 15th Oct. 1833.\n\n [110.1]\n vi. _N. and Q._, 8th ser., 6, quoting letter from Mr. W. H. Berry in\n the _Diss Express_ of 23rd March 1894.\n\n [110.2]\n Grimm, _Teut. Myth._, 1800, 1803.\n\n [110.3]\n J. Tuchmann, in iv. _M\u00e9lusine_, 320, citing Wuttke.\n\n [110.4]\n _Ibid._, citing a variety of cases; Monseur, 92; Liebrecht, _Gerv.\n Tilb._, 219, quoting Thiers, _Trait\u00e9 des Superstitions_; ii.\n Witzschel, 270; Grimm, _Teut. Myth._, 1805, 1824; Atkinson, 104;\n Henderson, 218, 221; F. Starr, in iv. _Journ. Am. F.L._, 324; J. H.\n Porter, in vii. _ibid._, 116. Cf. Knoop, _Posen_, 79.\n\n [111.1]\n Scot, 230, quoting _M. Mal._ Bodin gives from Spranger substantially\n the same account. Bodin, 334. See also iv. _M\u00e9lusine_, 320.\n\n [111.2]\n vi. _M\u00e9lusine_, 229; Von Wlislocki, _Volksgl. Mag._, 156; ii.\n Witzschel, 270; iii. _Am Urquell_, 238. Cf. a weird story, _ibid._,\n 317.\n\n [111.3]\n Tuchmann, in vi. _M\u00e9lusine_, 229.\n\n [111.4]\n iv. _M\u00e9lusine_, 320; vi. 89; ii. Witzschel, 265; iv. _Journ. Am.\n F.L._, 126.\n\n [112.1]\n iv. _Journ. Am. F.L._, 126; vi. 70; Bodin, 333; vi. _M\u00e9lusine_, 228.\n\n [112.2]\n ii. Dobrizhoffer, 267.\n\n [112.3]\n T\u00f6ppen, 35.\n\n [112.4]\n Henderson, 187.\n\n [112.5]\n _County F.L., Suffolk_, 192, 202. See an elaborate spell, Henderson,\n 220.\n\n [113.1]\n Nichols, _loc. cit._\n\n [113.2]\n Wolf, _Nied. Sagen_, 376, quoting De Lancre, _Tableau de l\u2019inconstance\n des mauvais anges et d\u00e9mons_ (Paris, 1613), 348.\n\n [113.3]\n iv. _Zeits. f. Volksk._ 257.\n\n [114.1]\n R. Scot, 66; Wolf, _Nied. Sagen_, 346; Monseur, 92; Harou, 54;\n Tuchmann, in vi. _M\u00e9lusine_, 89; iv., 320; C. Dirksen, in iv. _Zeits.\n des Vereins_, 324. An Italian woman whose milk was deficient enclosed\n a drop or two in a nutshell, with similar results on the witch.\n Ostermann, 376.\n\n [114.2]\n Georgeakis, 342.\n\n [114.3]\n i. _Rivista_, 386, 462, 935; vi. _M\u00e9lusine_, 108.\n\n [115.1]\n Leland, _Etruscan_, 360, quoting the _Secolo_ of Milan for 3rd March\n 1891. See also _ibid._, 282, 359, 361; Ostermann, 519. Midnight is in\n general the proper time for performing the ceremony of boiling.\n\n\n\n\n CHAPTER X NOTES\n\n [118.1]\n Von Wlislocki, _Volksgl. Zig._, 134.\n\n [118.2]\n ii. Laisnel de la Salle, 24.\n\n [118.3]\n H. Prahn, in i. _Zeits. des Vereins_, 182.\n\n [119.1]\n Von Wlislocki, _Volksgl. Zig._, 134.\n\n [119.2]\n _Ibid._, _Volksleb. Mag._, 34; iv. Kobert, 82.\n\n [119.3]\n Wilken, _Haaropfer_, 80. For the Wendish maiden an alternative is\n \u201ceine unpaarige Zahl Haare vom Gem\u00e4chte ganz klein zu schneiden, dass\n sie nicht mehr sichtbar sind, und in Kartoffelen den Geliebten\n genieszen zu lassen.\u201d Conversely, \u201cwenn bei den Wenden ein Bursche von\n einem M\u00e4dchen geliebt sein will, so soll er sich Haare von ihrem\n Gem\u00e4chte verschaffen, sie in eine N\u00e4hnadel einf\u00e4deln und so bei\n sich tragen.\u201d _Ibid._\n\n [119.4]\n Von Wlislocki, _Siebenb. Sachs._, 57.\n\n [119.5]\n Bourke, 219, quoting a story from Paullini, _Dreck Apotheke_\n (Frankfort, 1696).\n\n [120.1]\n Von Wlislocki, _Volksgl. Zig._, 82, 203. The last seems also a\n Transylvanian Saxon charm. _Ibid._, _Siebenb. Sachs._, 203.\n\n [120.2]\n _Ibid._, _Volksleb. Mag._, 78; ii. Brand, 605, quoting _The Comical\n Pilgrim\u2019s Pilgrimage into Ireland_.\n\n [121.1]\n A. F. D\u00f6rfler, in iii. _Am Urquell_, 269. A still more repulsive\n Gipsy charm is reported by Dr. von Wlislocki, in which the hair,\n saliva, blood, nail-parings, etc., of the man are worked up into a\n dough and formed into a rough figure supposed to represent him. The\n treatment of the figure is analogous to the other cases cited.\n _Volksgl. Zig._, 104.\n\n [121.2]\n Leland, _Gip. Sorc._, 134. I have not traced the authority for this:\n probably it is Dr. von Wlislocki.\n\n [121.3]\n Wilken, _Haaropfer_, 79, citing Von Schulenburg, _Wendisches\n Volksthum_.\n\n [121.4]\n F. Starr, in iv. _Journ. Am. F.L._, 323.\n\n [121.5]\n Apuleius, _Golden Ass_, iii.\n\n [122.1]\n Wilken, _Haaropfer_, 79, citing Wuttke. Wilken also mentions, but does\n not detail, a hair-philtre among the Alfurs of Buru, in the East\n Indies.\n\n [122.2]\n Krauss, _Sitte und Brauch_, 168, citing Vuk.\n\n [122.3]\n Julie Filippi, in ix. _Rev. Trad. Pop._, 462. The same tale is told at\n Friuli concerning the amours of a Benedictine monk of the abbey of\n Moggio. Ostermann, 317. See also _supra_, p. 66.***\n\n [122.4]\n i. Mannhardt, 48.\n\n [122.5]\n Von den Steinen, 558.\n\n [123.1]\n Wilken, _Haaropfer_, 80 notes, citing Wuttke.\n\n [123.2]\n Gregor, 86; Monseur, 34; ii. Witzschel, 286; Prahn, in i. _Zeits. des\n Vereins_, 182; iii. _Am Urquell_, 59; v., 81; Von Wlislocki,\n _Volksleb. Mag._ 76; Bourke, 216.\n\n [123.3]\n Von Wlislocki, _Volksleb. Mag._, 34.\n\n [123.4]\n Tuchmann in vi. _M\u00e9lusine_, 110.\n\n [123.5]\n Bourke, 223.\n\n [124.1]\n Grimm, _Teut. Myth._, 1747; W. R. Paton, in v. _Folklore_, 277, citing\n three MSS. in his own possession. Aubrey (_Gentilisme_, 43)\n conjectures with plausibility that the sport called _cocklebread_ is a\n relic of this.\n\n [124.2]\n Owen, 142; Harou, 17.\n\n [124.3]\n Feilberg, in iii. _Am Urquell_, 4.\n\n [124.4]\n Von Wlislocki, _Siebenb. Sachs._, 57; iii. _Am Urquell_, 62.\n\n [124.5]\n Wolf, _Nied. Sagen_, 367; Ostermann, 310.\n\n [125.1]\n Von Wlislocki, _Volksgl. Zig._, 134; _Volksdicht._, 150; iii. _Am\n Urquell_, 12, 62, 93.\n\n [125.2]\n D\u00f6rfler, in iii. _Am Urquell_, 269, 270. Cf. _ibid._, 3.\n\n [125.3]\n Von Wlislocki, _Volksleb. Mag._, 141. Cf. Ostermann, 316.\n\n [125.4]\n Von Henrici, in iv. Kobert, 92, 96; iii. _Am Urquell_, 4, 12, 13; iv.,\n 98; Von Wlislocki, _Volksleb. Mag._, 69, 70, 71; _Volksgl. Zig._, 133;\n _Volksgl. Mag._, 142; _Siebenb. Sachs._, 203; Felicina\n Giannini-Finucci, in xi. _Archivio_, 453; Ostermann, 310; Rev. W.\n Gregor in letter to me dated 8th Sept. 1893; Bourke, 217, 218; i.\n _Sax. Leechd._, xlv., quoting the Italian philosopher C\u00e6salpinus;\n Strack, 8, 15, 17, quoting a medical work of the seventeenth century\n and other authorities; Leland, _Etr. Rom._, 294; v. _Folklore_, 277;\n Von den Steinen, 558. An analogous superstition at Siena, see G. B.\n Corsi, in xiii. _Archivio_, 475.\n\n [125.5]\n i. _Sax. Leechd._, xlv., quoting the Shrift-book of Ecgbert,\n Archbishop of York; Strack, 15, quoting that of Theodore of\n Canterbury; Bourke, 217, 219, citing various authors; iii. _Am\n Urquell_, 268, 269; Von Wlislocki, _Volksleb. Mag._, 71; Rev. W.\n Gregor, in the above-cited letter, explains that this is the philtre\n referred to by him, _op. cit._, 86.\n\n [126.1]\n Scot, 63; Bourke, 216, 217, citing various authors; vii. _Journ. Am.\n F.L._, 133; Krauss, _Sitte und Brauch_, 167; Von Wlislocki, _Volksgl.\n Zig._, 82, 104. Aubrey (_Gentilisme_, 44) notices in Burchard\u2019s\n Decrees a reference to a custom on the part of women for the purpose\n of awakening love, analogous to the nasty Annamite story (Landes, 150)\n cited _supr\u00e0_, vol. i., p. 76. Among the authorities cited in this\n and preceding notes may also be found details of the means of\n destroying the charms by burning, treading out, and otherwise treating\n the substances referred to.\n\n [126.2]\n Von Wlislocki, _Volksleb. Mag._, 76.\n\n [126.3]\n Von Wlislocki, in iii. _Am Urquell_, 12.\n\n [126.4]\n Von Wlislocki, _Volksgl. Zig._, 132.\n\n [126.5]\n Liebrecht, _Gerv. Tilb._, 72 note, apparently quoting Fin Magnussen;\n De Mensignac, 19.\n\n [127.1]\n Gigli, 83.\n\n [127.2]\n vii. _Rep. Bur. Ethn._, 380. A similar ceremony with different words,\n _ibid._, 383.\n\n [127.3]\n Aug. Baumgart, in iv. _Zeits. des Vereins_, 83; Pigorini-Beri, 64.\n\n [127.4]\n Similarly for a cat. Finamore, _Trad. Pop. Abr._, 231, 232; De\n Mensignac, 76.\n\n [127.5]\n Grimm, _Teut. Myth._, 1785.\n\n [128.1]\n Grimm, _Teut. Myth._, 1828; Thorpe, ii. _N. Myth._, 108.\n\n [128.2]\n iii. _L\u2019Anthropologie_, 194. Another food-philtre is mentioned by Von\n den Steinen, 558.\n\n [128.3]\n D\u00f6rfler, in iii. _Am Urquell_, 268.\n\n [128.4]\n Von Wlislocki, iii. _Am Urquell_, 12. Another Gipsy charm applied to\n clothing is given by Dr. von Wlislocki, _Volkgsl. Zig._, 134. I need\n not detail it. In a Chaldean incantation already quoted, the victim\n complains: \u201cHe has taken the enchanted philtre and has soiled my\n garment with it.\u201d Lenormant, 61. We may surmise that it consisted of\n some of the nasty compounds referred to in previous paragraphs; but\n the translation is too uncertain to lay any stress on it.\n\n [129.1]\n iv. _Zeits des Vereins_, 159, citing Wuttke.\n\n [129.2]\n Lucian, _Hetairai_, Dial. iv.\n\n [129.3]\n P. Sartori, in iv. _Zeits. des Vereins_, 159.\n\n [129.4]\n Von Wlislocki, _Siebenb. Sachs._, 77.\n\n [130.1]\n Garnett, ii. _Wom. Turk._, 237.\n\n [130.2]\n Mrs. French-Sheldon, in xxi. _Journ. Anthr. Inst._, 364. The power of\n a white man is especially dreaded; but, as I understand Mrs.\n French-Sheldon, the objection to part with the cloth applies to all\n men, irrespective of colour.\n\n [130.3]\n Von Wlislocki, _Volksgl. Zig._, 133.\n\n [131.1]\n Von Wlislocki, _Siebenb. Sachs._, 75, 203.\n\n [131.2]\n Von Wlislocki, _Volksleb. Mag._, 34.\n\n [131.3]\n Krauss, _Sitte und Brauch_, 165.\n\n [132.1]\n vi. _Journ. Am. F.L._, 69.\n\n [132.2]\n Mrs. Latham, in i. _F.L. Record_, 44; Roth, in xxii. _Journ. Anthr.\n Inst._, 235. Elsewhere in England you are advised to burn your hair\n when cut off, lest the birds carry it away; but what the result of\n their doing so would be I do not know. Addy, 142.\n\n [132.3]\n Grimm, _Teut. Myth._, 1804, 1822.\n\n [132.4]\n Zingerle, _Sitten_, 28.\n\n [133.1]\n Liebrecht, 333.\n\n [133.2]\n Mrs. Fanny D. Bergen, in iv. _Journ. Am. F.L._, 153. Brain fever was\n even feared in Massachusetts. Sarah B. Farmer, in vii. _Journ. Am.\n F.L._, 252.\n\n [133.3]\n Von Wlislocki, _Volksgl. Zig._, 81. This is the belief concerning\n birds in Swabia. Grimm, _Teut. Myth._, 1804.\n\n [133.4]\n xxii. _Journ. Anthr. Inst._, 42, 116.\n\n [133.5]\n i. Binger, 371.\n\n [133.6]\n vi. _M\u00e9lusine_, 46.\n\n [133.7]\n Bent, 274.\n\n [134.1]\n Whymper, in viii. _Trans. Ethn. Soc._, N.S., 174.\n\n [134.2]\n i. _M\u00e9lusine_, 583, quoting _Le Tour du Monde_.\n\n [134.3]\n Von den Steinen, 558.\n\n [134.4]\n Taylor, 206 note, 207.\n\n [134.5]\n ii. _M\u00e9lusine_, 360.\n\n [134.6]\n B. W. Schiffer. in iv. _Am Urquell_, 74.\n\n [134.7]\n Hershon, _Talmudic Miscellany_ (Boston, 1880), quoted by Bourke, 347.\n Compare the reason for the Australian native\u2019s objection to passing\n under a leaning tree, or to being stepped over, when lying down, by a\n woman. iii. Curr, 179; ii. 301.\n\n [135.1]\n Aulus Gellius, x. 15.\n\n [135.2]\n iv. _Sacred Books of the East_, 186.\n\n [136.1]\n xxx. _Sacred Bks._, 164, 62. Cf. iii. _N. Ind. N. and Q._, 190.\n\n [136.2]\n i. _N. Ind. N. and Q._, 76.\n\n [136.3]\n ii. Mitford, 266. So, too, in Korea, \u201cold gentlemen keep a little bag\n in which they assiduously collect the combings of their hair, the\n strokings of their beard, and parings of their nails, in order that\n all that belongs to them may be duly placed in their coffin at death.\u201d\n Griffis, 271.\n\n [137.1]\n Wilken, _Haaropfer_, 52, 50, 51.\n\n [137.2]\n De Mensignac, 9, citing Anne Raffenel, _Nouveau Voyage dans les Pays\n des N\u00e8gres_, and Hovelacque, _Les N\u00e8gres de l\u2019Afrique\n sus-Equatoriale_. Mungo Park, 246, also describes the ceremony, but\n does not mention the special point now under consideration.\n\n [137.3]\n Dorsey, _Omaha Sociology_, 249.\n\n [138.1]\n i. _M\u00e9lusine_, 549; i. Kirby, 91.\n\n [138.2]\n Webster, 71.\n\n [138.3]\n Arnason, ii. _Sagen_, 250.\n\n [139.1]\n Hillner, 21.\n\n [139.2]\n Ostermann, 375.\n\n [139.3]\n Zanetti, 145; Finamore, _Trad. Pop. Abr._, 69, 161, 163; ii. De Nino,\n 29. On the other hand, if a suckling woman give bread to a she-goat\n and eat what the latter leaves, the milk passes from the goat to her.\n Finamore, _op. cit._, 167.\n\n [139.4]\n ii. De Nino, 30; Zanetti, 148; Ostermann, 378.\n\n [140.1]\n Von Wlislocki, _Volksleben Mag._, 81.\n\n [140.2]\n Timmins, 213; Featherman, _Nigritians_, 364; Speke, 163, 205; Moore,\n _Africa_, 35.\n\n [140.3]\n Kohlrusch, 340.\n\n [140.4]\n Liebrecht, in _Gerv. Tilb._, 240, quoting Thiers.\n\n [140.5]\n Grimm, _Teut. Myth._, 1795.\n\n [140.6]\n Temme, _Volkss. Altm._, 77.\n\n [141.1]\n iii. _Am Urquell_, 55, 212; iv., 274. Hot embers on other _excreta_\n cause diarrh\u0153a, in Italy at least. Zanetti, 58.\n\n [141.2]\n De Mensignac, 110.\n\n [141.3]\n Schiffer, in iii. _Am Urquell_, 53; Spiess, _Obererz._, 38.\n\n [141.4]\n viii. _Rev. Trad. Pop._, 546.\n\n [141.5]\n Addy, 125. The same superstition has recently been reported in the\n case of an old woman who died a few years ago at Mawgan in Cornwall.\n v. _Folklore_, 343. Compare the mythological reasons as to\n nail-parings, _supr\u00e0_, p. 138, as to hair, p. 133, and the Korean\n practice, p. 136, note.***\n\n [141.6]\n J. B. Andrews, in ix. _Rev. Trad. Pop._, 113.\n\n [142.1]\n M. Angelini, in xiii. _Archivio_, 21; Finamore, _Trad. Pop. Abr._,\n 129.\n\n [142.2]\n Krauss, _Sitte und Brauch_, 546. At Lesbos he throws it behind the\n oven, and asks the oven for an iron tooth to crunch marbles and eat\n biscuits. Georgeakis, 331. To the same order of ideas belongs the\n custom, said to prevail among the Hindus, of throwing their milk-teeth\n into a dung-pit and praying that their new teeth may grow as fast as a\n dung-heap does. i. _N. Ind. N. and Q._, 102, citing G. T. Lushington,\n in _Journ. As. Soc. Bengal_, 1833.\n\n [142.3]\n Grimm, _Teut. Myth._, 1797.\n\n [143.1]\n iii. _Am Urquell_, 198, from the collection of Dr. Colerus of Berlin.\n The same remedy is prescribed by Etmuller (_Opera_, Lyons, 1690),\n quoted Bourke, 412. It is also mentioned by Pettigrew, 97.\n\n [144.1]\n Liebrecht, in _Gerv. Tilb._, 245, quoting Thiers; vii. _N. and Q._,\n 8th ser., 6.\n\n [144.2]\n ii. Brand, 589, citing Shaw, _History of the Province of Moray_.\n\n [144.3]\n Tuchmann, in vi. _M\u00e9lusine_, 86.\n\n [144.4]\n Ploss, ii. _Kind_, 221.\n\n [144.5]\n Von Wlislocki, _Siebenb. Sachs._, 85.\n\n [144.6]\n iii. _Am Urquell_, 198.\n\n [145.1]\n i. _Sax. Leechd._, 333.\n\n [145.2]\n Bourke, 425, 421. For further examples, see Ploss, ii. _Kind_, 221;\n Black, 39; Tylor, ii. _Prim. Cul._, 364. In reference to the case,\n cited from Bastian by Dr. Tylor, of the ceremony in Malabar for\n expelling a demon by flogging the patient to a tree, nailing him there\n by the hair, and then cutting him loose, it may be interesting to\n mention that, at a recent meeting of the Folklore Society, a nail with\n hair still attached was exhibited from Ceylon; and it was stated by\n the exhibitor that the usual practice was to _tear_ the patient loose.\n\n [146.1]\n Bourke, 413. A similar prescription used by the Transylvanian Saxons.\n Von Wlislocki, _Siebenb. Sachs._, 86.\n\n [146.2]\n Pliny, _Nat. Hist._, xxviii. 23.\n\n [146.3]\n ii. Witzschel, 273.\n\n [147.1]\n Marcellus, xxxiii. 26. I have thought it needless to discuss the rite\n at length, as it is well known. In England, the tree usually chosen is\n an ash. The best account of the rite that I know is given by Gaidoz,\n _Vieux Rite_, 15. See also White, _Nat. Hist. Selborne_, letter\n xxviii. to Daines Barrington; Kuhn und Schwartz, 443; _County\n Folklore, Suffolk_, 26; Ploss, ii. _Kind_, 221; ii. Brand, 590. It is\n also in use for sick sheep. Grimm, _Teut. Myth._, 1816.\n\n [148.1]\n A. F. D\u00f6rfler, in iii. _Am Urquell_, 269; Von Wlislocki, _Volksgl.\n Mag._, 140.\n\n [148.2]\n A. F. D\u00f6rfler, in iii. _Am Urquell_, 269. A parallel remedy is\n prescribed to _heal_ a _man_ of impotence. Von Wlislocki, _Volksgl.\n Mag._, 140. The strength of the dead man is here probably intended to\n pass into the living.\n\n [148.3]\n Von Wlislocki, _Siebenb. Sachs._, 85, 97.\n\n [149.1]\n Von Wlislocki, in iii. _Am Urquell_, 11.\n\n [149.2]\n R. Scot, 222. Scot suggests, in one of his sarcastic asides, that\n Saint Mary \u201cperhaps hath the curing thereof by patent.\u201d\n\n [150.1]\n Von Wlislocki, in iii. _Am Urquell_, 11.\n\n [150.2]\n iii. _Am Urquell_, 197; i., 19; ii., 27; T\u00f6ppen, 45; Strack, 25; ii.\n Witzschel, 283; Grimm, _Teut. Myth._, 1802. In Alabama, the splinters\n are buried at the foot of the tree. v. _Journ. Am. F.L._, 21.\n\n [151.1]\n ii. _Bull. de F.L._, 8.\n\n [151.2]\n Aubrey, _Miscellanies_, 138. Compare the direction in Maine, New\n England, to cure a wart by crossing it with a knife until the blood\n comes, and then cross the bark of an apple-tree with the bloody knife.\n v. _Journ. Am. F.L._, 320.\n\n [151.3]\n Black, 39. He notes a further modern degradation of the rite in\n Scotland, where it was not thought necessary even to touch the tooth\n with the nail. Compare the practice with regard to warts. Northall,\n 139.\n\n [151.4]\n Kuhn, _M\u00e4rkische Sagen_, 384.\n\n [151.5]\n ii. _Bull. de F.L._, 7; Harou, 32.\n\n [151.6]\n Grimm, _Teut. Myth._, 1802.\n\n [152.1]\n Von Wlislocki, _Siebenb. Sachs._, 107.\n\n [152.2]\n H. Volksmann, in iv. _Am Urquell_, 278.\n\n [152.3]\n Prof. Haddon, in iv. _Folklore_, 351, 356; L. L. Duncan, in v.\n _ibid._, 199.\n\n [153.1]\n i. _N. Ind. N. and Q._, 70; iv., 78.\n\n [153.2]\n Krauss, _Sitte und Brauch_, 547.\n\n [153.3]\n J. G. Owens, in iv. _Journ. Am. F.L._, 124.\n\n [154.1]\n Strack, 88.\n\n [154.2]\n Leland, _Etr. Rom._, 287.\n\n [154.3]\n Marcellus, ix. 106; xxvi. 129; xxxvi. 28; xvi. 88. Plenty of such\n prescriptions are to be found in Marcellus. Prescriptions like the\n first are common in folk-medicine, and have been gravely prescribed by\n physicians of repute. The earliest example is found in Herod. ii. 111,\n prescribed by an oracle.\n\n [155.1]\n Liebrecht, _Gerv. Tilb._, 245, quoting Thiers; Black, 35; Marcellus,\n xii. 24.\n\n [156.1]\n Bourke, 412, _et seqq._; Strack, 88; Sauv\u00e9, 271; Pettigrew, 75, 76;\n Ploss, ii. _Kind_, 221; Liebrecht, in _Gerv. Tilb._, 242, 243, quoting\n Thiers; De Gubernatis, _Trad. Pop._, 27; Zanetti, 59, 63; i. Laisnel,\n 155; Von Wlislocki, _Siebenb. Sachs._, 86, 91, 95; iv. _Am Urquell_,\n 141; i. _F.L. Record_, 49; x. _Archivio_, 411 (cf. Zanetti, 58; iii.\n _Am Urquell_, 247); Finamore, _Trad. Pop. Abruz._, 160; Zingerle,\n _Sagen_, 470; Ostermann, 439; Pluquet, 43; ix. _Rev. Trad. Pop._, 708.\n\n [156.2]\n Grimm, _Teut. Myth._, 1813; Von Wlislocki, in iv. _Am Urquell_, 70;\n iii., 11; _Siebenb. Sachs._, 67, 86, 201; _Volksgl. Mag._, 140;\n Krauss, _Sitte und Brauch_, 534. The German settlers in the Land\n beyond the Forest forbid a child\u2019s bath-water to be thrown out of\n doors at night; nor may it be thrown where it may be trodden on, else\n the child will lose its sleep, or, as some say, die. Nor must it have\n been boiled, else the child will get pimples. Hillner, 51, 52. Why\n must water that has been used for bathing the feet, in the west of\n Ireland, be put outside the door at night \u201cfor fear of the fairies\u201d?\n Prof. Haddon, in iv. _Folklore_, 351. Apparently the fairies here are\n the house-spirits. Might they otherwise tumble in? Is the water to be\n thrown away or put outside in the tub?\n\n [156.3]\n Von Wlislocki, _Volksleb. Mag._, 138.\n\n [157.1]\n Kuhn und Schwartz, 443.\n\n [157.2]\n Von Wlislocki, _Volksdicht._, 152.\n\n [157.3]\n Black, 37, quoting Salmuth.\n\n [157.4]\n A. Baumgart, in iv. _Zeits. des Vereins_, 85.\n\n [158.1]\n T\u00f6ppen, 44.\n\n [158.2]\n Hillner, 26, note, quoting J. W. Wolf, _Beitr\u00e4ge_.\n\n [158.3]\n Ostermann, 469.\n\n [159.1]\n Von Wlislocki, _Siebenb. Sachs._, 95.\n\n [159.2]\n B. W. Schiffer, in iv. _Am Urquell_, 170, 171.\n\n [159.3]\n Finamore, _Trad. Pop. Abr._, 78; De Gubernatis, _Trad. Pop._, 24.\n\n [159.4]\n Schiffer, in iv. _Am Urquell_, 272.\n\n [160.1]\n Zanetti, 96, 97.\n\n [160.2]\n Prof. Haddon, in iv. _Folklore_, 351.\n\n [160.3]\n Liebrecht, in _Gerv. Tilb._, 243, 244, quoting Thiers.\n\n [160.4]\n ii. Brand, 598, note, quoting Lupton, _Second Book of Notable Things_\n (1660).\n\n [160.5]\n Von Wlislocki, _Siebenb. Sachs._, 96.\n\n [161.1]\n ii. Witzschel, 289.\n\n [161.2]\n xxx. _Sacred Bks._, 270.\n\n [161.3]\n Northall, 137, quoting the _Norfolk Garland_.\n\n [161.4]\n Schiffer, in iv. _Am Urquell_, 273.\n\n [162.1]\n Liebrecht, in _Gerv. Tilb._, 236, 237, 244.\n\n [163.1]\n _Berliner Tageblatt_, 18th Sept. 1892, quoted on the cover of iv. _Am\n Urquell_, No. 12. For similar prescriptions, chiefly German, see\n Strack, 34, 84. Pettigrew, 80, quotes Sir Thomas Browne, but omits the\n reference.\n\n [164.1]\n This is a mere suggestion, of the value of which I am doubtful.\n Tertullian, retorting against the heathen the charge of blood, speaks\n of the drinking for epilepsy of the fresh blood of criminals killed in\n the arena at gladiatorial shows. _Apol._, ix. Perhaps, therefore,\n belief in the power of the blood of criminals, _as such_, may go back\n to an earlier date.\n\n [165.1]\n Von Wlislocki, _Siebenb. Sachs._, 201.\n\n [165.2]\n Schiffer, in iii. _Am Urquell_, 200; T\u00f6ppen, 102. In Transylvania, by\n a complementary belief akin to those discussed in the next paragraph,\n to lay a flower on the dead causes the stalk whence it has been\n plucked to wither. iv. _Am Urquell_, 52.\n\n [165.3]\n Rev. C. J. Branch, in _Contemp. Rev._, Oct. 1875, 761.\n\n [165.4]\n Finamore, _Trad. Pop. Abr._, 201, 85, 135.\n\n [165.5]\n Baumgart, in iv. _Zeits. des Vereins_, 83.\n\n [166.1]\n Thorpe, iii. _N. Myth._, 329, quoting Wolf, _Wodana_; E. Polain, in\n ii. _Bull. de F.L._, 7.\n\n [166.2]\n T\u00f6ppen, 98; Strack, 34, quoting Frischbier, who also notes the remedy\n as in use for tetters and moles.\n\n [166.3]\n Liebrecht, in _Gerv. Tilb._, 236, 237, 241, 244, 245, quoting Thiers.\n One is reminded of the Irish phrase meaning that a man is dead: He\n hasn\u2019t got the toothache. A similar prescription for toothache in the\n old collection from the Mark of Brandenburg, iii. _Am Urquell_, 197.\n And see _ant\u00e8_, p. 148.***\n\n [166.4]\n Emma Altmann, in iv. _Zeits. f. Volksk._, 270; Grimm, _Teut. Myth._,\n 1822, 1800.\n\n [167.1]\n Dr. Krauss, in iii. _Am Urquell_, 303.\n\n [167.2]\n iv. Kobert, 193.\n\n [167.3]\n Prof. Rhys, in iii. _Folklore_, 82.\n\n [167.4]\n F. J. Bigger, in iii. _Proc. Belfast Nat. Field Club_, 3rd ser.\n (1892-3), 545.\n\n [167.5]\n G. W. Wood, in v. _Folklore_, 232.\n\n [168.1]\n Dyer, 171. His authority is not given.\n\n [168.2]\n Grimm, _Teut. Myth._, 1819.\n\n [168.3]\n Krauss, _Sitte und Brauch_, 545.\n\n [168.4]\n Karl Knauthe, in v. _Am Urquell_, 34.\n\n [168.5]\n N. C. Hoke, in v. _Journ. Am. F.L._, 114.\n\n [168.6]\n Von Wlislocki, _Siebenb. Sachs._, 95.\n\n [168.7]\n iii. _Am Urquell_, 247; Mrs. Latham, in i. _F.L. Record_, 49.\n\n [169.1]\n Prof. Haddon, in iv. _Folklore_, 355. Analogous prescriptions are\n given from various sources, Black, 43. See also Grimm, _Teut. Myth._,\n 1809.\n\n [169.2]\n Spiess, _Obererz._, 27.\n\n [169.3]\n Thorpe, iii. _N. Myth._, 328, quoting Wolf.\n\n [169.4]\n Schiffer, in iii. _Am Urquell_, 200.\n\n [170.1]\n Mrs. Latham, in i. _F.L. Record_, 43.\n\n [170.2]\n _Suffolk County F.L._, 25, 132.\n\n [170.3]\n Mary H. Skeel, in iv. _Journ. Am. F.L._, 165.\n\n [170.4]\n Kohlrusch, 340.\n\n [170.5]\n Zingerle, _Sitten_, 103.\n\n [170.6]\n T. Nencini, in i. _Rivista_, 887.\n\n [170.7]\n iv. Kobert, 208.\n\n [171.1]\n Schiffer, in iv. _Am Urquell_, 170.\n\n [171.2]\n Dr. A. F. Chamberlain, in iv. _Am Urquell_, 65, quoting Boas.\n\n [172.1]\n Codrington, 310, 205.\n\n [172.2]\n vi. _Rev. Trad. Pop._, 185, quoting Conte d\u2019H\u00e9risson, _Le Prince\n Imperial_.\n\n [172.3]\n Finamore, _Trad. Pop. Abr._, 182.\n\n [172.4]\n S. Raccuglia, in i. _Rivista_, 727.\n\n [172.5]\n Miss Gordon-Cumming, in _Nineteenth Century_, June 1887, 917.\n\n [173.1]\n Harou, 17.\n\n [173.2]\n H. G. Prendergast, in i. _N. Ind. N. and Q._, 104.\n\n\n\n\n CHAPTER XI NOTES\n\n [176.1]\n _Transactions of the Liverpool Welsh National Society_, 8th session\n (1892-3), 93.\n\n [177.1]\n iv. _Folklore_, 55. Sikes, 351 _et seqq._, mentions several other\n Welsh examples; but they present no special features.\n\n [178.1]\n See a number of examples referred to in Gomme, _Ethn._, 83 _et seqq._\n Also the case of Saint Oswald\u2019s Well, referred to, _ant\u00e8_, p. 22.***\n\n [178.2]\n _Athen\u00e6um_, 1st April 1893, 415.\n\n [178.3]\n _Proc. Roy. Ir. Acad._ (1892), 818.\n\n [179.1]\n W. Gray, in iv. _Proc. Belfast Nat. Field Club_, 2d ser., 94.\n\n [179.2]\n Gomme, _Ethn._, 91 _et seqq._ See also vi. _N. and Q._, 8th ser., 113.\n\n [179.3]\n iv. _N. and Q._, 8th ser., 246.\n\n [179.4]\n Prof. Rhys, in iii. _Folklore_, 75. Mr. Moore is quoted as giving a\n slightly different version of the ritual. I think his version probably\n describes a more recent and degraded form of the ceremony. In any\n case, the rag had to be wetted with water from the well. Other Manx\n wells are discussed by Mr. Moore in an article on \u201cWater and\n Well-worship in Man,\u201d v. _Folklore_, 212. See particularly pp. 217,\n 219, 222, 224, 226.***\n\n [180.1]\n x. _Proc. Soc. Ant. Scot._, 606.\n\n [180.2]\n iii. _Folklore_, 69.\n\n [181.1]\n ii. Brand, 269 note, 268 note, 270 note, quoting xviii. _Statistical\n Account of Scotland_, 630, Macaulay, _Hist. St. Kilda_, 95, and\n Martin, _Western Islands_, 140. A similar account is given of a well\n in the island of Islay.\n\n [181.2]\n xxvi. _Antiquary_, 30.\n\n [181.3]\n iii. _Folklore_, 67.\n\n [182.1]\n Miss Godden, in iv. _Folklore_, 399; Sir Arthur Mitchell, in vi.\n _Proc. Soc. Ant. Scot._, 253.\n\n [183.1]\n Bartsch, ii. _Sagen_, 104.\n\n [184.1]\n _Wallonia_, No. 3, 1893.\n\n [184.2]\n E. Monseur, in i. _Bull. de F.L._, 250, citing Van Bastelaer.\n\n [184.3]\n S\u00e9billot, _Coutumes_, 96. According to M. Certeux, the pins are to be\n thrown through a hole in the window into the chapel. ix. _Rev. Trad.\n Pop._, 288.\n\n [185.1]\n S\u00e9billot, _Coutumes_, 97, quoting Fouquet, _L\u00e9gendes du Morbihan_.\n As to St. Guirec\u2019s shrine, see also ii. _Arch. Camb._, 5th ser., 175.\n\n [185.2]\n E. Monseur, in i. _Bull. de F.L._, 250, citing Van Bastelaer.\n\n [186.1]\n G. Le Calvez, in vii. _Rev. Trad. Pop._, 92.\n\n [186.2]\n Gaidoz, in vi. _Rev. de l\u2019Hist. des Rel._, 10, 12. See also iv. _N.\n and Q._, 8th ser., 186.\n\n [187.1]\n Volkov, in viii. _Rev. Trad. Pop._, 448.\n\n [187.2]\n Gaidoz, _Vieux Rite_, 29, quoting Clos, _M\u00e9moires de la Soc. des\n Antiquaires de France_. The same is done at the well of Saint Gobrien\n at Camors. ix. _Rev. Trad. Pop._, 490.\n\n [187.3]\n Gaidoz, _Vieux Rite_, 41, quoting _M\u00e9moires de la Soc. Arch\u00e9ologique\n de Bordeaux_.\n\n [187.4]\n i. Bartsch, 418.\n\n [188.1]\n Liebrecht, _Gerv. Tilb._, 244, quoting Thiers, _Trait\u00e9 des\n Superstitions_. See also Scot, 165, quoting Martin of Arles.\n\n [188.2]\n G. Amalfi, in i. _Rivista_, 294.\n\n [188.3]\n Finamore, _Trad. Pop. Abr._, 147.\n\n [188.4]\n Preller, i. _R\u00f6m. Myth._, 258.\n\n [189.1]\n Gaidoz, in vii. _Rev. de l\u2019Hist. des Rel._, 9.\n\n [189.2]\n Grabowsky, in _Globus_ lxvii. No. 1. I am indebted to M. Schmeltz for\n this reference.\n\n [189.3]\n Rodd, 165, 176.\n\n [190.1]\n i. _Bull. F.L._, 228, citing the \u1f18\u03c6\u03b7\u03bc\u03b5\u03c1\u1f76\u03c2\n \u1f00\u03c1\u03c7\u03b1\u03b9\u03bf\u03bb\u03bf\u03b3\u03b9\u03ba\u03ae.\n\n [190.2]\n Aristophanes, _Plut._, 840, 937. Initiates at the Mysteries, explains\n the scholiast on the former passage, consecrated at some shrine the\n garments they had worn during the ceremony. And see Anrich, 211.\n\n [190.3]\n Lucan, _Phars._, i. 135; Vergil, _\u00c6n._, xii. 766. B\u00f6tticher, 62, _et\n seqq._, mentions other instances, and in his illustrations gives\n several figures showing the custom.\n\n [191.1]\n Georgeakis, 348, 349.\n\n [191.2]\n Andree, i. _Ethnog. Par._, 29.\n\n [191.3]\n vii. _Rev. Trad. Pop._, 56, citing Boijdowsky, _Kievska\u00efa Starina_.\n\n [192.1]\n Von Wlislocki, _Volksgl. Mag._, 22, 70.\n\n [192.2]\n H. H. Wilson, ii. _Works_, 169.\n\n [193.1]\n Andree, i. _Ethnog. Par._, 50, 61; Burton, _Sindh_, 177; i. _N. Ind.\n N. and Q._, 39, 88, 174; Dalpatr\u00e1m Day\u00e1, 19, 20; i. Hanway, 260;\n Yule, i. _Marco Polo_, 128; i. Ouseley, 313, 369, _et seqq._, ii. 83;\n iii. 532. The Turks tear off strips of their robes and tie them to the\n railing surrounding a saint\u2019s tomb. Featherman, _Turanians_, 398.\n\n [193.2]\n Robertson Smith, _Rel. Sem._, 170; Andree, i. _Ethnog. Par._, 60, 34.\n\n [193.3]\n Rodd, 167, quoting Kamporoglou, _Hist. Ath._\n\n [194.1]\n Andree, i. _Ethnog. Par._, 52.\n\n [194.2]\n Cooper, 275.\n\n [195.1]\n i. _N. Ind. N. and Q._, 76, quoting Moorcroft and Trebeck, _Trav. in\n the Himalayas_.\n\n [195.2]\n Lewin, 232.\n\n [195.3]\n Georgi, 25, 156.\n\n [195.4]\n ii. Erman, 409.\n\n [196.1]\n vii. _M\u00e9lusine_, 135.\n\n [196.2]\n Andree, i. _Ethnog. Par._, 61.\n\n [196.3]\n i. Schuyler, 138; ii. 113.\n\n [196.4]\n A. H. Savage Landor, in _Fortnightly Rev._, Aug. 1894, 186.\n\n [196.5]\n H. S. Sanderson, in xxiv. _Journ. Anthr. Inst._, 311.\n\n [197.1]\n Campbell, i. _Circular Notes_, 350.\n\n [197.2]\n vi. _M\u00e9lusine_, 154, 155, quoting the _Temps_. I have referred to\n these performances by women in an earlier chapter, and compared them\n with a similar practice in Glamorganshire. Perhaps I may be allowed to\n refer to the case of St. Oswald\u2019s Well at Oswestry, where the wish is\n to be obtained by flinging on a certain stone the remainder of the\n water in one\u2019s hand after drinking. It must be done at midnight.\n Burne, 428. The Japanese practice is also referred to by Chamberlain,\n xxii. _Journ. Anthr. Inst._, 357. Compare with the rite at Penvenan,\n _supr\u00e0_, p. 186.***\n\n [197.3]\n xxii. _Journ. Anthr. Inst._, 359. See also 356. \u201cIn some of the\n Louisiade group there are certain very large well-known trees under\n which\u201d the natives \u201chave their feasts. These trees appear to be\n credited with possessing souls, as a portion of the feast is set aside\n for them, and bones, both pigs\u2019 and human, are everywhere deeply\n imbedded in their branches.\u201d _Report of Special Commission for_ 1887\n _on British New Guinea_, quoted in iii. _Arch. Rev._, 416. This\n custom, though not precisely the one now under discussion, is closely\n related.\n\n [198.1]\n Andree, i. _Ethnog. Par._, 61, 60; vii. _Internat. Archiv._, 145.\n Crooke, 105, describing several rag-shrines in India, notes that they\n are generally called \u201cOur Lady of Tatters.\u201d One in Ber\u00e1r is called\n \u201cThe Lord of Tatters.\u201d\n\n [198.2]\n Andree, i. _Ethnog. Par._, 60.\n\n [199.1]\n Mungo Park, 38.\n\n [199.2]\n Gaidoz, in vii. _Rev. de l\u2019hist. des Rel._, 7, quoting Charles de\n Rouvre, _Bull. de la Soc. de G\u00e9og._, Oct. 1880. M. Schmeltz has\n figured in vii. _Internat. Archiv_, 144, two specimens of the\n _n\u2019dok\u00e9_ from the Congo and the Cameroon now in the National Museum\n of Ethnography at Leiden. They are stuck with pins and pieces of iron.\n Another from West Africa covered with nails may be seen in the British\n Museum. See also Herbert Ward, in xxiv. _Journ. Anthr. Inst._, 288.\n\n [200.1]\n i. Binger, 212. See also Mungo Park, 250.\n\n [200.2]\n Darwin, _Journ._, 68.\n\n [203.1]\n ii. Brand, 268 note, quoting _Statistical Account_.\n\n [204.1]\n xxvii. _Antiquary_, 169. Heron (_Journey through the Western Counties\n of Scotland_, 282) gives a less complete account of the practices at\n Strathfillan. In his time (1792) the offerings consisted of clothes,\n or a small bunch of heath. He asserts, I know not on what authority,\n that \u201cmore precious offerings used once to be brought. But these being\n never left long in the unmolested possession of the saint, it has\n become customary to make him presents which may afford no temptation\n to theft.\u201d\n\n [204.2]\n At a sacred cave in Kumaon is a pool where the worshipper must bathe\n with his clothes on, and then leave them for the priest. iii. _N. Ind.\n N. and Q._, 147. An instance is recorded of a spring in Italy where it\n was believed that a child bathed before its seventh year would be\n healed of all diseases. The parents left the child\u2019s clothes to be\n distributed among the poor. A bishop, however, positively put an end\n to the superstition; and the spring has since been called \u201cAcqua\n Scommunicata.\u201d Ramage, 274. This bishop was perhaps eccentric. The\n bishop of Girgenti does not seem to have prohibited the practice, at\n the church of San Calogero in that city, of bringing children,\n stripping them naked in pursuance of a vow, and leaving their best\n clothes hung on a stick before the altar. i. _Rivista_, 790.\n\n [205.1]\n Gen. xxxi. 44.\n\n [206.1]\n Livingstone, _Zambesi_, 229.\n\n [206.2]\n Darwin, _Journ._, 46.\n\n [206.3]\n Josh. vii. 25; 2 Sam. xviii. 17.\n\n [207.1]\n Andree, i. _Ethnog. Par._, 46, 47, 49, 50, 55, quoting various\n writers; De Gubernatis, i. _Myth. Plantes_, 160 note, citing\n Mantegazza; Finamore, _Trad. Pop. Abr._, 100; v. _Am Urquell_, 235;\n Georgeakis, 323; i. _Rep. Bur. Ethn._, 132; xiii. _Archivio_, 260; Le\n Braz, 230, 307; Thomas, _Prob. Ohio Mounds_, 12, citing Smith\u2019s\n _History of Wisconsin_; Featherman, _Chiapo-Mar._, 495.\n\n [207.2]\n Hahn, _Tsuni_-\u01c1_goam_, 45, 46, 47, 52, 56, 69, quoting various\n writers.\n\n [207.3]\n i. _N. Ind. N. and Q._, 40; Dalpatr\u00e1m Day\u00e1, 19, 20.\n\n [209.1]\n Andree, i. _Ethnog. Par._, 46, 49, 55. Cf. with the Dyak custom that\n of the Esthonians on the island of Oesel. _Ibid._, 47. As to the\n Peruvian rite, i. Garcilasso, 131. Compare with it a Malabar custom of\n taking a shred from the clothes and presenting it to the new moon when\n first seen. i. _N. Ind. N. and Q._, 88.\n\n [209.2]\n _Proc. Roy. Ir. Acad._ (1892), 819.\n\n [209.3]\n _Athen\u00e6um_, 1st April 1893, 415.\n\n [209.4]\n Casalis, 287. A parallel practice would seem to be that of putting mud\n in a niche above the well at the Chapel of the Seven Saints, Pl\u00e9dran,\n C\u00f4tes-du-Nord--not on the child--to cure the mumps. Dr. Aubry, in\n vii. _Rev. Trad. Pop._, 599.\n\n [210.1]\n W. A. Craigie, in iv. _Folklore_, 223, quoting the _Landn\u00e1mab\u00f3k_.\n Cf. the custom in the Louisiade Islands cited _ant\u00e8_, p. 197, note,\n and several African customs also cited above.***\n\n [211.1]\n i. _Bull. F.L._, 250.\n\n [212.1]\n vi. _M\u00e9lusine_, 155.\n\n [213.1]\n It is fair to M. Monseur to say that he recognises expressly (_loc.\n cit._) the priority of trees as objects of worship, in point of time,\n to fetishes of wood; and M. Gaidoz, of course, would admit the same.\n But I do not think this affects my criticism. Elsewhere the former\n refers to two cases, which by no means stand alone, as instances of\n maltreated divinities. The remedy prescribed for toothache at Warnaut\n and Bioulx, in the province of Namur, is to bite, as noted in the last\n chapter, one of the crosses placed on the wayside in memory of persons\n who have died violent deaths in the neighbourhood. And at Herve, a\n girl who desires to be married goes to pray at Saint Joseph\u2019s Chapel.\n She must bite the iron trellis-work around the saint\u2019s statue--of\n course, because she cannot get at the saint himself. ii. _Bull. F.L._,\n 7, 56. It seems to me, however, that the object is, in both cases, to\n bring the sufferer or suppliant into union with the deceased or with\n the saint. So, to cure the fever, we find among the French\n superstitions of the seventeenth century the prescription to bind the\n patient for a while with a cord, or fasten him with wood or straw to a\n certain tree; and it was the opinion of some that it must be done\n early in the morning, that the patient must be fasting and must bite\n the bark of the tree before being released. Liebrecht, in _Gerv.\n Tilb._, 238, quoting Thiers. In Transylvania, one who suffers from\n toothache bites the bell-rope while the church-bells are ringing,\n saying:--\n\n  \u201cThe free masses are sung,\n  The bells have rung,\n  The Gospel is read,\n  The worm in my teeth shall be dead.\u201d\n\n Von Wlislocki, _Siebenb. Sachs._, 106. This is neither Transplantation\n nor the ill-using of a god.\n\n [216.1]\n Pausanias, ii. 11. A representation of the dedicated lock was\n sometimes carved in stone upon a tablet and presented to the shrine.\n In the Mausoleum Room of the British Museum is a marble slab found in\n Thessaly, whereon are carved two tresses offered to Poseidon. I am\n indebted to Mr. W. H. D. Rouse for drawing my attention to this.\n\n [217.1]\n As to the dedication of hair, see B\u00f6tticher, 92 _et seqq._, to which\n I am indebted for most of the above illustrations.\n\n [217.2]\n Wilken, _Haaropfer_, 39, 40, 56; Robertson Smith, _Rel. Sem._, 305.\n\n [217.3]\n Andree, i. _Ethnog. Par._, 150.\n\n [217.4]\n Zingerle, _Sagen_, 470.\n\n [218.1]\n Knoop, _Sagen aus Posen_, 182. According to another story, this\n wonderful hair was the gift of a noble lady as the most beautiful\n thing she had.\n\n [218.2]\n Gaidoz, in vii. _M\u00e9lusine_, 84, quoting M. Auricoste de Lazarque, an\n eye-witness.\n\n [219.1]\n i. De Nino, 49.\n\n [219.2]\n Scot, 165 (l. xi., c. 15).\n\n [219.3]\n Pettigrew, 40.\n\n [219.4]\n Von Wlislocki, _Volksgl. Mag._, 22.\n\n [219.5]\n Garnett, i. _Wom._, 73.\n\n [220.1]\n i. Ainsworth, 260.\n\n [220.2]\n De Gubernatis, i. _Myth. Plantes_, 160 note.\n\n [220.3]\n Crooke, 231, quoting Col. Tod\u2019s _Annals_.\n\n [220.4]\n Wilken, _Haaropfer_, 55, citing Sir Monier Williams, _Religious Life\n and Thought in India_, 375.\n\n [220.5]\n Featherman, _Turanians_, 269.\n\n [220.6]\n Ellis, _Tour_, 325.\n\n [221.1]\n i. Macdonald, 109, 111.\n\n [221.2]\n Featherman, _Nigr._, 162.\n\n [221.3]\n i. _Rep. Bur. Ethn._, 159.\n\n [221.4]\n Andree, i. _Ethnog. Par._, 151, 152; i. _Rep. Bur. Ethn._, _passim_.\n\n [222.1]\n Browning, _Artemis Prologizes_.\n\n [224.1]\n Ploss, i. _Kind_, 15, citing M\u00f6renhout.\n\n [224.2]\n ii. Bartsch, 45; ii. Witzschel, 249.\n\n [224.3]\n Scot, 165, quoting, apparently, Martin of Arles. Compare the Bosnian\n customs, mentioned _supr\u00e0_, vol. i. p. 152.\n\n [224.4]\n Dr. Paul Aubry, in vii. _Rev. Trad. Pop._, 599.\n\n [224.5]\n Liebrecht, in _Gerv. Tilb._, 240, quoting Thiers.\n\n [224.6]\n v. _Journ. Am. F.L._, 108, 242; ix. _Rep. Bur. Ethn._, 572.\n\n [225.1]\n ii. _Zeits. des Vereins_, 168. See the monkish MS. of the miracles of\n Simon de Montfort, printed by the Camden Soc., _passim._\n\n [225.2]\n C. A. White, in vii. _N. and Q._, 8th ser., 6, quoting a book the\n authorship and bibliography of which are still to seek.\n\n [225.3]\n Grimm, _Teut. Myth._, 1757. A votive offering still not uncommon is a\n candle of the size or weight of the person who, or on whose behalf,\n the vow is made. See for example i. _Rivista_, 790.\n\n [225.4]\n B. H. Chamberlain, in xxii. _Journ. Anthr. Inst._, 364.\n\n [226.1]\n i. Doolittle, 115.\n\n [226.2]\n Capt. Bourke, in ix. _Rep. Bur. Ethn._, 556, quoting several\n authorities.\n\n [226.3]\n _Ibid._, 572. Saint Francis\u2019 is not the only image thus made useful.\n See v. _Journ. Am. F.L._, 242; vii. 135.\n\n [226.4]\n Pineau, 508. In Brittany, bread rubbed on the statue of Saint Gildas\n is given to cattle and horses, and even eaten by human beings as a\n preventive against the bites of mad dogs. Le Calvez, in vii. _Rev.\n Trad. Pop._, 93.\n\n [226.5]\n Casalis, 267.\n\n [227.1]\n Von Wlislocki, _Volksgl. Mag._, 22.\n\n [227.2]\n _Journal of Thomas Dineley_, in i. _Journ. Kilk. Arch. Soc._, N.S.,\n 180.\n\n [227.3]\n Miss Godden, in iv. _Folklore_, 502, quoting Dr. Reeves. In Iceland, a\n preventive of sea-sickness is a sod from the churchyard worn in the\n shoe. ii. Powell and Magn\u00fasson, 644; ii. Lehmann-Filh\u00e9s, 252; both\n from Arnason.\n\n [227.4]\n v. _Rep. Bur. Ethn._, 426; ix. 473; ii. _Folklore_, 442. Compare the\n Apache use of hoddentin, the pollen of the tule-rush. ix. _Rep. Bur.\n Ethn._, 500, _et seqq._ Compare also the consecration of the Hindu\n votaries of Devi, by the smearing of their foreheads with a portion of\n the red powder which has marked an earthenware pitcher containing\n water and other things infused, by means of _mantr\u00e1s_, with the\n spirit of the goddess. iv, _N. Ind. N. and Q._, 19.\n\n [228.1]\n This intention, however, is by no means universal. Some instances to\n the contrary have already been given. I may add to them that in\n Belgium, in spite of certain examples like that of Saint Etto\u2019s Cross,\n it seems to be believed that a nail found, _especially in a tree_,\n brings good luck. i. _Bull. de F.L._, 250. In such a case there can be\n no transfer of disease.\n\n [229.1]\n Kolbe, 163.\n\n [230.1]\n My authority for this statement is a paper read by Professor\n Kovalevsky at the British Association meeting at Oxford, August 1894,\n and not yet printed.\n\n [230.2]\n G. Ferraro, in xiii. _Archivio_, 3.\n\n [231.1]\n ii. _F.L. Journ._, 349.\n\n [231.2]\n Addy, 115.\n\n\n\n\n CHAPTER XII NOTES\n\n [239.1]\n On the blood-covenant, the three chief authorities are Robertson\n Smith, _Kinship_; and _Rel. Sem._; Trumbull; and Strack. Prof.\n Robertson Smith and Dr. Trumbull, approaching the subject from\n different points of view, arrived at similar conclusions independently\n and simultaneously. I have a long list of examples not mentioned by\n these writers; but I forbear to load the page with them, as they add\n nothing to the ample proofs of the meaning, and but little to those of\n the wide distribution, of the rite. By far the most exhaustive\n examination of totemism is that of Mr. Frazer in his book on the\n subject, an expansion of his article in the _Encyclop\u00e6dia\n Britannica_.\n\n [241.1]\n Stoll, 47; iii. Bancroft, 486, citing Carta; Trumbull, 90, citing\n various authorities. Similarly, De Acosta describes the practice when\n at a funeral human beings were sacrificed to the dead to be their\n slaves in the other world; the victim\u2019s blood was smeared on the\n corpse\u2019s face from ear to ear. De Acosta, 314. A writer of the last\n century describes the Nogats of the Bouraits and other peoples of\n Eastern Siberia as _idoles en peinture_, representing the contour of a\n naked human figure, six to eight inches long, painted with the heart\u2019s\n blood of the victims, or with some other red material. Georgi, 150.\n\n [241.2]\n Tibullus, i. _Eleg._, vi. 45.\n\n [242.1]\n i. _Heimskringla_, 165.\n\n [242.2]\n i. Risley, 504, 535, and other places. The daubing of the wooden\n casing of the well with red lead is one of the village ceremonies at\n the Sarh\u00fal festival. iii. _N. Ind. N. and Q._, 180, quoting L. R.\n Forbes\u2019 Report.\n\n [243.1]\n J. B. Andrews, in ix. _Rev. Trad. Pop._, 115.\n\n [243.2]\n P. S\u00e9billot, in ix. _Rev. Trad. Pop._, 170.\n\n [244.1]\n Arnason, i. _Sagen_, 192. Feilberg, in iii. _Am Urquell_, 5, quotes it\n as menstrual blood. Very likely this is correct; but the German\n version, to which alone I have access, does not specify it.\n\n [244.2]\n Von Wlislocki, _Volksgl. Zig._, 110, 123, 124; Schiffer, in iii. _Am\n Urquell_, 200, citing Rulikowski; viii. _Rev. Trad. Pop._, 487.\n\n [244.3]\n Strack, 51, quoting Mannhardt.\n\n [244.4]\n Grimm, _Teut. Myth._, 1833 (a Swedish prescription from H\u00fclphers,\n given in English by Thorpe, ii. _N. Myth._, 113). Several modern\n English cases given by Henderson, 181.\n\n [245.1]\n Von Wlislocki, in iii. _Am Urquell_, 64.\n\n [245.2]\n Featherman, _Aoneo-Mar._, 60.\n\n [245.3]\n Featherman, _Chiapo-Mar._, 355.\n\n [245.4]\n Powell, 92. Cf. the Australian custom. ii. Curr, 52.\n\n [245.5]\n H. Vos, in iii. _Internat. Arch._, 72.\n\n [245.6]\n i. Crantz, 193.\n\n [245.7]\n Dr. M. Pasquarelli, in i. _Rivista_, 640, citing several cases.\n\n [246.1]\n Du Chaillu, _Ashango-land_, 199, 201.\n\n [246.2]\n Von Wlislocki, in iii. _Am Urquell_, 64.\n\n [247.1]\n Arnason, i. _Sagen_, 20.\n\n [247.2]\n Mr. Paton, in letter to me dated 25th May 1894.\n\n [250.1]\n ii. Risley, 41.\n\n [250.2]\n ii. Risley, 49.\n\n [251.1]\n Featherman, _Papuo-Mel._, 333.\n\n [251.2]\n Herod. iii. 11.\n\n [251.3]\n Diodorus, xxii.\n\n [252.1]\n i. _Panjab N. and Q._, 122.\n\n [252.2]\n Markham, _Rites and Laws_, 25, 28.\n\n [252.3]\n Burton, _Wit and Wisd._, 450.\n\n [252.4]\n Von Wlislocki, _Volksdicht._, 250.\n\n [252.5]\n v. _L\u2019Anthropologie_, 352, citing and reviewing E. C. Taintor, _Les\n aborig\u00e8nes du nord de Formose_.\n\n [253.1]\n Krauss, _Sitte und Brauch_, 630. The old Norsemen seem to have made\n leagues by drinking together. See Morris, ii. _Heimskringla_, 105.\n\n [253.2]\n i. Casati, 217.\n\n [253.3]\n Saxo, 23; Elton\u2019s version, xxxiii and 28; Du Chaillu, ii. _Viking\n Age_, 64, quoting the saga of _Egil and Asmund_.\n\n [253.4]\n Herod. iii. 8. It may be observed, in reference to Herodotus\u2019\n identification of Alilat with Urania, that Allatu (? = Alilat) appears\n to be the more correct transliteration of the name of the Babylonian\n goddess of the Underworld, given by Smith (_Chald. Gen._, 230) as\n Ninkigal. Jeremias, _H\u00f6llenfahrt, passim._\n\n [254.1]\n Robertson Smith, _Rel. Sem._, 297.\n\n [255.1]\n Livingstone, _Miss. Travels_, 489.\n\n [255.2]\n Kuno Meyer, in i. _Arch. Rev._, 304, translating the saga.\n\n [255.3]\n Finamore, _Trad. Pop. Abr._, 172.\n\n [256.1]\n i. Bancroft, 636, citing Father Joseph Arlegui.\n\n [256.2]\n Featherman, _Papuo-Mel._, 281.\n\n [256.3]\n Lewin, 228, 315, 322.\n\n [256.4]\n vii. _M\u00e9lusine_, 76, quoting _Annales Apostoliques_, July 1894.\n\n [256.5]\n i. Risley, lviii. ii. 16, 111.\n\n [257.1]\n Caroline Islanders, Featherman, _Oceano-Mel._, 348; La P\u00e9rouse\n Islanders, _Ibid._, _Papuo-Mel._, 95.\n\n [257.2]\n i. De Nino, 51. As to the blood-rite in modern Italy, see Strack, 12;\n Finamore, _Trad. Pop. Abruz._, 101.\n\n [258.1]\n Krauss, _Sitte und Brauch_, 633.\n\n [259.1]\n _Congress Report_ (1891), 249, _et seqq._ Cf. the Apache ceremony of\n spitting in a hole made in the ground at concluding a peace. iii.\n _Journ. Am. F.L._, 54. I add a few references here in support of the\n opinion that the saliva contains the life, and the recipient\u2019s life is\n enhanced by a portion of the giver\u2019s. The examples given subsequently\n in the text are directed to the further point raised in the following\n paragraph. iii. _Am Urquell_, 9, 54, 56, 58; iv. 170, 274; v. 20;\n Krauss, _Sitte und Brauch_, 548; vi. _M\u00e9lusine_, 251; Blunt, 166;\n Marcellus, viii. 166, 172, 191; ix. 107; xxxvi. 70; Finamore, _Trad.\n Pop. Abruz._, 79, 135, 170, 191, 203; De Mensignac, 80, _et seqq._;\n iv. _Zeits. des Vereins_, 84; i. _Rivista_, 222. (Cf. Zanetti, 59, 63;\n Von den Steinen, 335; Hodgkinson, 227.)\n\n [261.1]\n Mrs. F. D. Bergen, in iii. _Journ. Am. F.L._, 51.\n\n [262.1]\n Persius, _Sat._ ii. 31. Lustration with spittle was also part of the\n rites of purification in the Mysteries. Anrich, 211.\n\n [262.2]\n Von Wlislocki, _Siebenb. Sachs._, 144.\n\n [262.3]\n De Mensignac, 59, 61, 58; Garnett, ii. _Wom._, 475; Hillner, 21;\n Kaindl, 5; Sajaktis, in iv. _Zeits. des Vereins_, 139.\n\n [262.4]\n Extracts from the Journal of Thomas Dineley, Esq., in i. _Journ. Kilk.\n Arch. Soc._, N.S., 182; Prof. Haddon, in iv. _Folklore_, 361, 358; Dr.\n C. R. Browne, in iii. _Proc. Roy. Ir. Ac._, 3rd Ser., 358.\n\n [263.1]\n iv. _Folklore_, 357.\n\n [263.2]\n iii. _Am Urquell_, 55.\n\n [263.3]\n Ockley, 351.\n\n [263.4]\n Mungo Park, 246; De Mensignac, 10, citing Anne Raffenel, _Nouveau\n Voyage_, and Abel Houvelacque, _Les N\u00e8gres_.\n\n [263.5]\n Winwood Reade, 46.\n\n [263.6]\n Burton, i. _Gelele_, 259.\n\n [264.1]\n De Mensignac, 12, quoting Anne Raffenel. Mr. Crombie cites from\n Burckhardt, a similar custom among the Bedouin. If a thief be caught\n and abused by the man he has wronged, and can manage to spit on\n another, the latter must defend him, even against a fellow-tribesman,\n and may kill the assailant in his defence. _Congress Report_ (1891),\n 257.\n\n [264.2]\n De Mensignac, 22. A similar record by Peters is quoted by W. Simpson,\n _Sikh Initiation_, 5.\n\n [264.3]\n Paulitschke, 246. Cf. the Pueblo story of the reason why all the Hano\n can talk Hop\u00ed and none of the Hopitah can talk Hano. viii. _Rep. Bur.\n Ethn._, 36. The language of some of the lower animals is acquired in\n folktales elsewhere by the creature spitting into the hero\u2019s mouth. In\n Ashango-land guests are given red powder to rub themselves with. Du\n Chaillu, _Ashango-land_, 341. This appears to be a modified form of\n the blood-covenant.\n\n [265.1]\n Paulitschke, 206.\n\n [265.2]\n De Mensignac, 9.\n\n [265.3]\n Casalis, 306.\n\n [265.4]\n Addy, 59.\n\n [265.5]\n De Mensignac, 12, citing R\u00e9ville. I have mislaid a reference to a\n more direct authority. Cf. the practice in the Cordilleras mentioned\n on p. 208.\n\n [266.1]\n ii. Brand, 572 note. The practice is a very familiar one. A variant\n practice is to spit on the first money received in the New Year. This\n is also practised in France. De Mensignac, 69.\n\n [266.2]\n Monseur, 90.\n\n [266.3]\n Lubbock, 97, citing Franklin; Addy, 94.\n\n [266.4]\n Von Wlislocki, _Siebenb. Sachs._, 159.\n\n [266.5]\n Grimm, _Teut. Myth._, 1847.\n\n [267.1]\n De Mensignac, 66.\n\n [267.2]\n Tuchmann, in vi. _M\u00e9lusine_, 231.\n\n [267.3]\n De Mensignac, 66.\n\n [267.4]\n vi. _Rep. Bur. Ethn._, 374.\n\n [267.5]\n De Mensignac, 77.\n\n [267.6]\n iii. _Am Urquell_, 55, 56.\n\n [267.7]\n De Mensignac, 54, 69.\n\n [268.1]\n Du Chaillu, _Equatorial Africa_, 430. Blowing alone appears in the\n Bakalai ceremony. _Ibid._, 393. Blowing here, as in other cases, seems\n a substitute for spitting.\n\n [268.2]\n ix. _Rep. Bur. Ethn._, 574, quoting Major Cornwallis Harris.\n\n [268.3]\n Anrich, 210.\n\n [269.1]\n Kane, 407. Cf. the charms for rendering dogs faithful given _ante_,\n pp. 124, 127.***\n\n [269.2]\n Winwood Reade, 131.\n\n [269.3]\n iii. _Am Urquell_, 57.\n\n [270.1]\n v. _Journ. Am. F.L._, 183.\n\n [270.2]\n Scot, 219; iii. _Am Urquell_, 56; Liebrecht, in _Gerv. Tilb._ 220;\n Pliny, xxviii. 7.\n\n [270.3]\n i. Binger, 194.\n\n [270.4]\n Kane, 216.\n\n [270.5]\n Theocritus, xx. Cf. vi., where the object is expressly to ward off the\n Evil Eye.\n\n [271.1]\n Pliny, xxviii. 7. Cf. the Italian custom mentioned by De Mensignac,\n 56.\n\n [271.2]\n ii. Brand, 573 note. See _ante_, pp. 67, 132.***\n\n [271.3]\n i. _Rivista_, 618; ii. 155.\n\n [271.4]\n iii. _Am Urquell_, 57. The Girondins also spit on the wads of their\n wooden shoes before flinging them out, to avoid the fourcat, a kind of\n corn which grows in the fork of the great toe. De Mensignac, 54.\n\n [271.5]\n Von Wlislocki, _Siebenb. Sachs._, 110, 116.\n\n [271.6]\n iii. _Am Urquell_, 108.\n\n [272.1]\n Georgeakis, 343.\n\n [272.2]\n v. _Journ. Am. F.L._, 63.\n\n [272.3]\n Pliny, xxviii. 7; xvii. Pitr\u00e8, 243; xv. 136.\n\n [272.4]\n De Mensignac, 61.\n\n [272.5]\n Tuchmann, in vi. _M\u00e9lusine_, 86.\n\n [273.1]\n iii. _Am Urquell_, 57; De Mensignac, 54; Pliny, xxviii. 7. An\n elaborate counter-spell to the Evil Eye still extant in Calabria is\n detailed by Sig. A. Renda, in i. _Rivista_, 290.\n\n [273.2]\n Haddon and Browne, in ii. _Proc. Roy. Ir. Ac._, 3rd ser., 819.\n\n [273.3]\n vii. _Journ. Am. F.L._, 126.\n\n [273.4]\n Pigorini-Beri, 40; Tuchmann, in vi. _M\u00e9lusine_, 108.\n\n [274.1]\n Prof. Mikhailovskii, translated by O. Wardrop, in xxiv. _Journ. Anthr.\n Inst._, 97.\n\n [274.2]\n Emil Hassler, in _Mem. Cong. Anthr._, 356.\n\n [274.3]\n S. K. Kusnezow, in viii. _Internat. Arch._, 21.\n\n [274.4]\n F. H. Wells, in v. _Rep. Austr. Ass._, 518.\n\n [274.5]\n Suetonius, _Vit. Vesp._, vii.; Tacitus, _Hist._, iv. 81.\n\n [274.6]\n Dalyell, 76, citing St. Jerome\u2019s _Life of Saint Hilarion_.\n\n [275.1]\n ii. Doolittle, 373, 374.\n\n [275.2]\n Campbell, _Khondistan_, 112.\n\n [275.3]\n Simpson, _Sikh Initiation_, 5, quoting Wolf. Dr. Karl Piehl gives two\n curious extracts from the inscription on the tomb of Pepi II., an\n Egyptian monarch of the sixth dynasty, xv. _Proc. Soc. Bibl. Arch._,\n 250. They appear to belong to the order of thought under discussion;\n but in the absence of the context it is impossible to determine their\n exact meaning. Spitting is mentioned as a charm against rain in the\n Obererzgebirge, Spiess, _Obererz._, 34. It is probably an extension of\n the idea of spitting on a witch.\n\n\n\n\n CHAPTER XIII NOTES\n\n [280.1]\n Herod., iii. 38, 99.\n\n [280.2]\n _Ibid._, i. 216; iv. 26. Father Favre identifies the Padaioi with the\n Battas of Sumatra (Favre, _Wild Tribes_, 5), and Major Rennell the\n Issedones with the Oigurs or Eluths, a Mongol tribe conquered in the\n last century by the Chinese (G. Busk in ii. _Journ. Ethn. Soc._, N.S.,\n 80, citing Rennell\u2019s _Geographical System of Herodotus_). These\n identifications, however, must be regarded as doubtful.\n\n [281.1]\n Strabo, xi. 11, \u00a7 8; iv. 5, \u00a7 4.\n\n [281.2]\n Marco Polo, lxi.\n\n [281.3]\n Marco Polo, clxxvi.\n\n [282.1]\n Maundeville, xviii., xix., xxxi.\n\n [282.2]\n iii. _M\u00e9lusine_, 505, citing Friar Jean du Plan de Carpin and others;\n Vos, in iii. _Internat. Archiv_, 70, citing Plan de Carpin and another\n Franciscan, W. Rubruk.\n\n [282.3]\n In Asia. Certain tribes of the interior of Siam, Barbosa, 190; the\n Birhors of Chutia N\u00e1gp\u00far (Bengal), Dalton, 158, 220; iii.\n _M\u00e9lusine_, 409; the Gonds, Featherman, _Tur._, 117 note, citing\n Rowney\u2019s _Wild Tribes of India_; the Samoyeds of Siberia, iii.\n _Internat. Arch._, 71.\n\n In the East Indian Islands. Sumatra, the Battas, Favre, _Wild Tribes_,\n 5; viii. _M\u00e9lusine_, 410; ii. Churchill\u2019s _Voyages_, 180; Featherman,\n _Papuo-Mel._, 336 note (Marsden, however, says nothing about it, and\n the most recent traveller denies it. Modigliani, _Batacchi_, 152,\n 181); Philippine Islands, the Montescos, Featherman, _ibid._, 499;\n Floris, the Rakka, ii. _Journ. Ind. Arch._, 174 (these statements are\n discredited in a note by the editor of the _Journ. Ind. Arch._, I do\n not know on what ground); ii. Yule, 236, 240, citing various\n authorities.\n\n In Australia. Dawson, 67; iii. _Journ. Ethn. Soc._, 29; ii. _Journ.\n Anthr. Inst._, 179; xiii. _ibid._, 135, 298; xxiv. 171, 182; iii.\n _Trans. Ethn. Soc._, N.S., 248; Featherman, _Papuo-Mel._, 157, 160\n note, 161; Letourneau, _L\u2019\u00c9v. Rel._, 35, citing Taplin; ii. Curr, 18,\n 63, 119, 331, 341, 346, 361, 367, 404, 432, 449; iii. 21, 138, 147,\n 159.\n\n In Africa. Congo tribes, iii. _M\u00e9lusine_, 433; Maniana, Winwood\n Reade, 160, citing Mollien; Manyuema, Andree, _Anthropophagie_, 41,\n citing Wissmann.\n\n In South America. Various tribes in Brazil, ii. Churchill\u2019s _Voy._,\n 133, 135; ii. Dobrizhoffer, 271; iii. _M\u00e9lusine_, 459; Featherman,\n _Chiapo-Mar._, 332, 344, 348, 355; xxiv. _Journ. Anthr. Inst._, 248,\n 249, 253; of Peru, i. Garcilasso, 56; ii. 274; i. _Anthr. Rev._, 38;\n Brinton, _Amer. Race_, 290; Featherman, _Chiapo-Mar._, 423; of Guiana,\n Featherman, _ibid._, 221.\n\n There is a Gipsy tradition of a supernatural race of cannibals of this\n kind, where the habit may be a trait borrowed from some tribe with\n which they have actually come into contact in their wanderings. Von\n Wlislocki, _Volksgl. Zig._, 31.\n\n Let me add an observation here. Among many savage nations it is not\n usual to wait the convenience of the aged before dining off their\n bodies. They are slain for the purpose. Relics of the custom of\n putting the aged to death are still found in Europe. It is remarkable\n that in Scandinavia, as witnessed by Du Chaillu, the displacement of\n the old man in favour of his son takes place _at the table_. This,\n though not a funeral rite, points to cannibalism of the kind discussed\n in the text. Du Chaillu, i. _Midnight Sun_, 393. See also Gomme, in i.\n _Folklore_, 197; vii. _Rev. Trad. Pop._, 153, 287; xii. _Archivio_,\n 504; i. _N. Ind. N. and Q._, 205.\n\n [284.1]\n Featherman, _Chiapo-Mar._, 31, 417. Mr. Featherman throws doubt on\n this latter instance, because it \u201cis reported by a Jesuit missionary.\u201d\n Surely this is carrying scepticism to an unwarranted length. The\n report of an objective fact like this by no means stands on the same\n footing as another, by apparently the same missionary, that \u201cthe\n Ucayali Indians believe in a creator of the universe,\u201d to which he\n takes exception, probably with greater justice. In neither case is\n there, so far as I know, any reason to suspect that the missionary is\n intentionally misleading his readers.\n\n [285.1]\n iii. Bancroft, 414, citing various authorities; 297 _et seqq._,\n quoting Torquemada.\n\n [285.2]\n Winwood Reade, 160; Featherman, _Nigritians_, 260, 262; Du Chaillu,\n _Eq. Africa_, 84, 88.\n\n [286.1]\n Schneider, 135, apparently quoting the report of an English engineer,\n not named, from _Das Ausland_, 1888.\n\n [286.2]\n Featherman, _Oceano-Mel._, 243.\n\n [286.3]\n Featherman, _Chiapo-Mar._, 355.\n\n [286.4]\n Powers, 181.\n\n [287.1]\n Wallace, 346. See also Brinton, _Amer. Race_, 267; M\u00fcller, _Amer.\n Urrel._, 289; iii. _Trans. Ethn. Soc._, N.S., 158, 193.\n\n [287.2]\n i. Bancroft, 76.\n\n [287.3]\n Codrington, 221; x. _Journ. Anthr. Inst._, 285; F. Bonney, in xiii.\n _ibid._, 135; A. W. Howitt, in xvi. _ibid._, 30, 35. The Koniaga\n practice also perhaps has its basis in magic.\n\n [287.4]\n Featherman, _Papuo-Mel._, 74.\n\n [288.1]\n Garnett, ii. _Women_, 263.\n\n [288.2]\n Statements of Miss Garnett and the Rev. Dr. Gaster, cited iii.\n _Folklore_, 154.\n\n [288.3]\n Mr. W. R. Paton in a letter to me dated 17th June 1892. As to\n repetition of the K\u00f3lyva cakes, see Rodd, 126; Garnett, i. _Wom._,\n 99. The times of the commemorative repetition _vary_ a little in\n different places. Compare with this the Sicilian custom of eating on\n the second of November (the festival of All Souls) sweetmeats\n impressed with images of skulls, bones, skeletons, souls in Purgatory\n and the like. This is called _eating the dead_. i. _Rivista_, 239. A\n similar custom at Perugia. _Ibid._, 322.\n\n [289.1]\n Plutarch, _Rom. Quest._, 65; Jevons, xci.; De Gubernatis, ii. _Myth.\n Plantes_, 134; Pliny, xviii. 30.\n\n [289.2]\n ii. Laisnel de la Salle, 83.\n\n [289.3]\n ii. _Rivista_, 65.\n\n [289.4]\n Ostermann, 489, 482.\n\n [290.1]\n C. Guerrieri, in i. _Rivista_, 314. A plateful is set aside for the\n dead, and afterwards eaten by one of the family.\n\n [290.2]\n Monseur, 41. My knowledge of the Welsh custom depends on the statement\n of a Radnorshire woman to my brother-in-law, the Rev. W. E. T. Morgan,\n Vicar of Llanigon. It perhaps requires confirmation.\n\n [290.3]\n O. Nemi, in i. _Rivista_, 959.\n\n [290.4]\n Garnett, ii. _Women_, 496.\n\n [290.5]\n Featherman, _Tur._, 205.\n\n [290.6]\n Codrington, 272.\n\n [290.7]\n Featherman, _Aram._, 621. In Barbary cooked food is distributed among\n the poor on the evening of the burial. This is called the supper of\n the grave. _Ibid._, 511.\n\n [291.1]\n Featherman, _Tur._, 540. To these we may perhaps add the Patagonian\n custom of killing the horses of the deceased and distributing their\n flesh among his relations. _Ibid._, _Chiapo-Mar._, 495.\n\n [291.2]\n Atkinson, 227; iii. _Arch. Cambr._, 4th ser., 332; _Gent. Mag. Lib._\n (Manners and Cust.), 70; ii. _Cymru Fu N. and Q._, 271, 275. See also\n ii. _Antigua_, 188, where \u201cdyer bread\u201d and \u201cbiscuit cakes\u201d (species of\n pastry) are said to have been formerly handed round at Negro funerals\n on the island, enveloped in white paper and sealed with black wax.\n\n [292.1]\n iv. _Folklore_, 392.\n\n [293.1]\n iii. Pennant, 150.\n\n [293.2]\n Aubrey, _Remaines_, 23, 24.\n\n [294.1]\n Aubrey, _Remaines_, 35. Ellis reprints from Leland\u2019s _Collectanea_ a\n letter from a Mr. Bagford, dated 1st Feb. 1714-15, giving a slightly\n varied account, also professedly derived from Aubrey, of the rite as\n practised in Shropshire. The fee is stated as a groat. ii. Brand, 155.\n\n [294.2]\n iii. _Arch. Cambr._, N.S., 330. Traces of a similar custom are found\n in Derbyshire. There no wine is drunk at a funeral until after the\n party has returned from the church. Wine is then offered first to the\n bearers. This order is strictly observed; and it is believed that\n \u201cevery drop that you drink is a sin which the deceased has committed.\n You thereby take away the dead man\u2019s sins and bear them yourself.\u201d\n Addy, 123, 124.\n\n [296.1]\n Burton, _Sindh_, 350, 354.\n\n [296.2]\n iii. _M\u00e9lusine_, 409, quoting M. Dubois\u2019 work as cited in the\n _Annales de la Propagation de la Foi_ for 1830. Mr. Frazer cites this\n case (ii. _Golden Bough_, 155) and some others from India, all of\n which I believe are referable to the same origin, though he interprets\n them by reference to the idea expressed in the Mosaic Scapegoat. His\n attention probably had not been drawn to the parallel cases I cite\n above and below.\n\n [297.1]\n Dr. M. Hoefler, in ii. _Am Urquell_, 101. In an article on the\n Sin-eater in iii. _Folklore_, 150, I quoted Wilkie\u2019s description of\n the Lowland Scottish rite called Dishaloof, and expressed the opinion\n that it belonged to the same order of thought as the rites now under\n discussion. Though I adhere to that opinion, I have not met with any\n thing which illustrates the mysterious details of the rite; and I\n have, therefore, thought it well to avoid burdening these pages with\n particulars that I cannot correlate. Mrs. Gomme has exhaustively\n analysed a children\u2019s game called Green Grass, apparently connected\n with the Lowland rite; but the results attained do not help here. i.\n _Traditional Games_, 153. See Henderson, 53.\n\n [298.1]\n Quoted in ii. Brand, 153 note.\n\n [299.1]\n Denis H. Kelly, in i. _Journ. Kilkenny Arch. Soc._, N.S., 31 note.\n Smoking round the corpse was a part of the ceremony in North Wales in\n the last century. Owen, _Crosses_, 56.\n\n [299.2]\n Mr. W. R. Paton, in letters to me as before, and in letter dated 25th\n May 1894. Bread or money is distributed by the beadle at the gate of\n the cemetery on the island of Lesbos. Georgeakis, 321. In Sardinia\n grain or money is given to the poor who assist at the funeral mass. G.\n Calvia, in i. _Rivista_, 953.\n\n [299.3]\n Guhl and Koner, 594.\n\n [300.1]\n Possibly this is because no fire is lighted in the house of death, as\n in Calabria, where all food for this reason is provided by the\n relations and friends for a whole month, i. _Rivista_, 383.\n\n [300.2]\n i. De Nino, 130; Finamore, _Trad. Pop._, 94. In country-places of\n Sanseverino, when the relatives and neighbours have wept over the\n body, as soon as it is taken out of the house they sit down to table,\n talking the while of the virtues and defects of the dead. i.\n _Rivista_, 79.\n\n [301.1]\n T\u00f6ppen, 95, 103.\n\n [302.1]\n ii. Laisnel de la Salle, 81, 82.\n\n [305.1]\n Featherman, _Turanians_, 520.\n\n [305.2]\n i. Hanway, 101.\n\n [305.3]\n Batchelor, 205.\n\n [306.1]\n i. De Groot, 115, 197, 227, 229; i. Doolittle, 180.\n\n [306.2]\n ii. Doolittle, _passim_.\n\n [306.3]\n F. Grabowsky, in ii. _Internat. Archiv_, 180; iii. _Journ. Ind.\n Arch._, 150.\n\n [306.4]\n Von Wlislocki, _Volksgl. Zig._, 99.\n\n [306.5]\n Sibree, 240, quoting Rev. R. T. Batchelor, in _Antananarivo Annual_.\n\n [307.1]\n Featherman, _Tur._, 108.\n\n [307.2]\n Codrington, 255, 259, 271, 284.\n\n [307.3]\n i. Macdonald, 111.\n\n [307.4]\n Featherman, _Nigr._, 375. Why the fowl should be spared if it refuse\n to eat I do not quite understand. Compare, however, similar divination\n in India. Crooke, 164; i. _N. Ind. N. and Q._, 33.\n\n [307.5]\n ii. _Rep. Austr. Ass._, 322.\n\n [308.1]\n Featherman, _Papuo-Mel._, 34.\n\n [308.2]\n Prof. Haddon, in xix. _Journ. Anthr. Inst._, 421.\n\n [309.1]\n F. Fawcett, in v. _Folklore_, 30.\n\n [309.2]\n Featherman, _Tur._, 506 note, quoting Fahne\u2019s _Livland_; _ibid._, 459.\n The Koraiks of Siberia also kill and eat the reindeer which have drawn\n the body to the funeral pile, throwing the remains of the repast into\n the fire. Georgi, 99.\n\n [309.3]\n Featherman, _Chiapo-Mar._, 461.\n\n [309.4]\n vi. _Rep. Bur. Ethn._, 614, quoting Hall.\n\n [310.1]\n Tanner, 288, 293.\n\n [310.2]\n Featherman, _Tur._, 541.\n\n [310.3]\n Featherman, _Papuo-Mel._, 399.\n\n [310.4]\n Featherman, _Tur._, 230, 244.\n\n [310.5]\n Julian Ralph, in lxxxiv. _Harper\u2019s Mag._, 176.\n\n [311.1]\n Ellis, _Yoruba_, 159.\n\n [311.2]\n Georgi, 92.\n\n [311.3]\n Featherman, _Tur._, 265.\n\n [311.4]\n Sir J. Lubbock, in iii. _Trans. Ethn. Soc._, N.S., 318; Canon\n Greenwell, in lii. _Arch\u00e6ologia, passim_.\n\n [311.5]\n Featherman, _Nigr._, 694.\n\n [311.6]\n Ellis, _Yoruba_, 158.\n\n [312.1]\n Marshall, 177, 185.\n\n [313.1]\n i. _Rep. Bur. Ethn._, 145, 200.\n\n [313.2]\n Featherman, _Oceano-Mel._, 406.\n\n [313.3]\n Featherman, _Nigr._, 291; Sibree, 241, quoting Guillain, _Documents\n sur la partie occid. de Madagascar_; Bourke, 263, quoting Smyth,\n _Aborig. of Victoria_; ii. _Rep. Austr. Ass._, 322; xxi. _Journ.\n Anthr. Inst._, 484, 356, 316; Fison and Howitt, 243.\n\n [314.1]\n Codrington, 268; iii. _L\u2019Anthropologie_, 349, citing and reviewing Van\n Hoevell in the _Tijdschrift voor indische taal-land- en volkenkunde_;\n Modigliani, 281, citing Rosenberg and quoting Piepers.\n\n [314.2]\n Backhouse, 105.\n\n [314.3]\n Dr. Sims in _Anthropologia_, 213; i. Bancroft, 347; i. _Rep. Bur.\n Ethn._, 151.\n\n [314.4]\n Stevens, 373 note, citing _Bull. Amer. Ethnol. Soc._\n\n [314.5]\n i. Bancroft, 76.\n\n [315.1]\n A. Skrzyncki, in v. _Am Urquell_, 208.\n\n [315.2]\n F. Grabowsky, in ii. _Internat. Arch._, 199, citing several\n authorities.\n\n [315.3]\n i. Bancroft, 731, 744.\n\n [316.1]\n A. W. Howitt, in xiii. _Journ. Anthr. Inst._, 190.\n\n [316.2]\n Fison and Howitt, 244. Other Australian examples may be found in i.\n Curr, 89, 272; ii. 249, 476; iii. 22, 28, 65, 79, 147, 273; xxiv.\n _Journ. Anthr. Inst._, 182, 185, 195.\n\n [316.3]\n xxi. _Journ. Anthr. Inst._, 482, citing a Government despatch.\n\n [316.4]\n Mouat, 327.\n\n [316.5]\n Dawson, 65, 63.\n\n [316.6]\n Kane, 243; i. _Journ. Ethn. Soc._, 249; i. Bancroft, 126; i. _Rep.\n Bur. Ethn._, 145.\n\n [317.1]\n Mouat, 327; E. H. Man, in xii. _Journ. Anthr. Inst._, 86, 142, 401,\n 402; Prof. Owen, in ii. _Trans. Ethn. Soc._, N.S., 37; E. Palmer, in\n xiii. _Journ. Anthr. Inst._, 298; Prof. Haddon, in v. _Folklore_, 320,\n citing _Annals de la Propag. de la Foi_; ix. _Rep. Bur. Ethn._, 485,\n citing Smyth; Dawson, 65; Featherman, _Papuo-Mel._, 157, 162; Roth,\n 76; Backhouse, 84; ii. _Rep. Austr. Ass._, 605; Featherman,\n _Oceano-Mel._, 193. The widow of an Uraba preserved the hinder part of\n his skull; but did she wear it? i. Bancroft, 783. In the same way\n Speke, 500, leaves us in doubt whether the lower jaw of a chief of the\n Wahuma, and the finger-bones and hair of an officer of state, were\n worn by anybody. Probably the former was, as it was adorned with\n beads. M. Du Chatellier gives an account of a skull of the bronze age\n unearthed in Brittany, from which a considerable piece had been cut\n after death on the right side. E. Cartailhac, in v. _L\u2019Anthropologie_,\n 266, citing and reviewing an article by the learned Breton antiquary.\n This is not quite a singular case, and probably points to the\n antiquity of the practice under discussion.\n\n [317.2]\n Issedones, Herod. iv. 26. Krumen of the Grain Coast, W. Africa,\n Featherman, _Nigr._, 291. Andaman Islanders, ii. _Trans. Ethn. Soc._,\n N.S., 37. Dorah Papuans, Featherman, _Papuo-Mel._, 34. Islanders of\n New Britain and adjacent islands, Powell, 10, 165, 251. Torres Straits\n Islanders, Prof. Haddon, in xix. _Journ. Anthr. Inst._, 307, 405, 416,\n 421, 422, and vi. _Internat. Arch._, 153, 159, 161; _Fur. Corresp._,\n April 1891, 198. Admiralty Islanders, xxi. _Journ. Anthr. Inst._, 5.\n Philippine Islanders, Featherman, _Papuo-Mel._, 475. Santa Cruz\n Islanders, Codrington, 264. Banks\u2019 Islanders, _ibid._, 267. Solomon\n Islanders, _ibid._, 254, 257, 262. People of Ambrym, New Hebrides,\n _ibid._, 288 note. Loyalty Islanders, Turner, _Nineteen Years_, 400,\n 463. New Caledonians, _ibid._, 425. Maories, Featherman,\n _Oceano-Mel._, 194. Gilbert Islanders, ii. _Internat. Arch._, 43.\n Tahitians, Ellis, i. _Pol. Res._, 401, 406, 270, 272. Sandwich\n Islanders, Ellis, iv. _ibid._, 359. Mosquito Indians, Featherman,\n _Chiapo-Mar._, 154. Caribs, _ibid._, 277; Sir R. Schomburgk, in i.\n _Journ. Ethn. Soc._, 276. Orinoco tribes, Featherman, _Chiapo-Mar._,\n 301. Vancouver Islanders, Bogg, in iii. _Mem. Anthr. Soc._, 265.\n Congarees of South Carolina, i. _Rep. Bur. Ethn._, 132, citing\n Schoolcraft. Iroquois, _ibid._, 169, citing Morgan.\n\n [318.1]\n Herod. iii. 24; Strabo, xvii. 11, \u00a7 5; v. Wilkinson, 389; i. De\n Groot, 127; Codrington, 262, 268, 288 note; Ellis, _Yoruba_, 161.\n\n [318.2]\n i. Risley, 331; ii. 71; Dalton, in vi. _Trans. Ethn. Soc._, N.S., 37;\n Featherman, _Tur._, 42, 89.\n\n [318.3]\n Wissmann, 275.\n\n [318.4]\n Julian Ralph in lxxxiv. _Harper\u2019s Mag._, 177.\n\n [319.1]\n iii. _Internat. Arch._, 70, citing Rubruk and Plan Carpin; iii.\n _Journ. Ethn. Soc._, 29; ix. _Rep. Bur. Ethn._, 485, citing Smyth,\n _Aborigines of Victoria_; i. Curr, 89, 272; xxiv. _Journ. Anthr.\n Inst._, 186.\n\n [319.2]\n C. J. Branch, in xxvi. _Contemp. Rev._, 761, 762. A few references\n follow, but many might be added. Featherman, _Nigr._, 345, 358;\n _Oceano-Mel._, 65, 306, 393; _Papuo-Mel._, 71, 157; _Chiapo-Mar._,\n 277; i. _Rep. Bur. Ethn._, 108; i. Macdonald, 228; Ellis, iv. _Pol.\n Res._, 178; Codrington, 262; Speke, 500; vi. _Internat. Arch._, 129\n note, quoting Wilson, _A Missionary Voyage_; vii. _ibid._, 228 note;\n i. Doolittle, 175; Dr. J. Shortt, in vii. _Trans. Ethn. Soc._, N.S.,\n 244; Turner, _Nineteen Years_, 338, 400, 425, 463. \u201cIn the island of\n Soa near Skye, it was customary when the head of a family died to have\n a large lock of hair cut off his head and nailed fast to the\n door-lintel, to keep off the fairies.\u201d Mackenzie, 131. Was this the\n true reason? A handful of earth from the grave is prescribed, among\n the Negroes of South Carolina, to prevent being haunted by the spirit.\n vii. _Journ. Am. F.L._, 318. And the same in Tashkend to assuage\n grief. i. Schuyler, 151.\n\n [321.1]\n Deut. xiv. 1.\n\n [321.2]\n Wilken, _Haaropfer_, 19, citing _Tijdschr. v. h. Aardrijksk. Gen._,\n and _Tijdschr. v. Ind. T. L. en Vk_.\n\n [321.3]\n Andree, i. _Ethn. Par._, 148; Ellis, i. _Pol. Res._, 407, 410.\n\n [322.1]\n Featherman, _Papuo-Mel._, 155, 157; i. Curr, 272; ii. 179, 203, 249,\n 346, 443; iii. 21, 29, 165, 549; xxiv. _Journ. Anthr. Inst._, 178,\n 181, 185, 187, 195.\n\n [322.2]\n Featherman, _Chiapo-Mar._, 153.\n\n [322.3]\n Von den Steinen, 507.\n\n [322.4]\n Letourneau, _L\u2019\u00c9v. Rel._, 187, citing the _Dix-neuvi\u00e8me Si\u00e8cle_ for\n 26th Dec. 1890.\n\n [323.1]\n i. _Rep. Bur. Ethn._, 190, 124, 100, 109, 112, 143, 159, 164, 183.\n\n [323.2]\n Wilken, _Haaropfer_, 19, citing Francis, _Herinneringen uit den\n levensloop van een Indisch Ambtenaar_.\n\n [323.3]\n Featherman, _Aram._, 620.\n\n [323.4]\n Powers, 181. The Greeks also scratched their faces until they bled, as\n a token of mourning. Robertson Smith, _Rel. Sem._, 304.\n\n [324.1]\n Andree, i. _Ethn. Par._, 150. Other instances of similar mutilation\n are given by Andree.\n\n [324.2]\n Tylor, ii. _Prim. Cult._, 364. The evolution of sacrifices from gifts\n upwards is treated by Dr. Tylor in the context.\n\n [326.1]\n Burton, _Sindh_, 281.\n\n [327.1]\n i. Crawfurd, 97.\n\n [327.2]\n Burton, _Sindh_, 281; Bellew, 226.\n\n [327.3]\n Dr. Daniell, in iv. _Journ. Ethn. Soc._, 19.\n\n [327.4]\n Brinton, _Len\u00e2pe_, 54, 23.\n\n [328.1]\n Cyrus Thomas, _Ohio Mounds_, 11, 19, 22; i. _Rep. Bur. Ethn._, 127,\n 169, 170.\n\n [328.2]\n Turner, _Nineteen Years_, 230.\n\n [328.3]\n Featherman, _Nigr._, 694.\n\n [328.4]\n Rodd, 127. Mr. Rodd goes on to notice \u201cthat MM. Pottier and Reinach in\n their work on The Necropolis of Myrina draw attention to the fact that\n in the course of their excavations they came upon a number of\n skeletons in which the skull was absent, while in certain cases both\n the skull and the feet were missing\u201d; and they conclude that the\n graves in question \u201care those of strangers, and that the missing\n bones, like those of the Albanians of to-day, had been restored to the\n countries of their origin.\u201d This may be so, though the absence of\n these bones may point to other customs, such as I have already\n discussed in this chapter. General Pitt-Rivers reported to the British\n Association at Oxford last year (1894) that he had also found bodies\n buried without the head at Cranborne Chase.\n\n [329.1]\n Cicero, _Leg._ ii. 24, 60.\n\n [329.2]\n i. _N. Ind. N. and Q._, 45, quoting ii. _Calcutta Review_, 419.\n\n [330.1]\n Hunter, _Rur. Bengal_, 153, 210; and the authors cited above, p. 318.***\n\n [330.2]\n i. _Journ. Anthr. Inst._, 131.\n\n [330.3]\n Featherman, _Tur._, 88.\n\n [330.4]\n i. Risley, 125.\n\n [331.1]\n _Daily News_, 20th Feb. 1892.\n\n [331.2]\n Burton, ii. _Gelele_, 78 note; Ellis, _Ewe_, 159; _Yoruba_, 163.\n\n [331.3]\n ii. _Internat. Arch._, 181.\n\n [332.1]\n i. _Journ. Anthr. Inst._, 183.\n\n [332.2]\n i. Gray, 295.\n\n [332.3]\n Rev. S. Ella, in iv. _Rep. Aust. Ass._, 641.\n\n\n\n\n CHAPTER XIV NOTES\n\n [335.1]\n Dalton, 160, 216, 252, 273, 317, 321; Risley, _passim_.\n\n [335.2]\n Hunter, _Rur. Bengal_, 188. No one reading the Indian evidence can be\n left in any uncertainty as to the meaning of the red lead. See Crooke,\n 197, 294; _N. Ind. N. and Q._, _passim_.\n\n [336.1]\n i. Risley, 243; ii. 96, 222, 263. Cf. i. _N. Ind. N. and Q._, 152.\n\n [336.2]\n i. Doolittle, 67-105; i. Gray, 193-209.\n\n [336.3]\n Th. Volkov, in iii. _L\u2019Anthropologie_, 541, 544, 545. A red cloth hung\n on a girl\u2019s tent constitutes an offer of marriage among the\n Transylvanian Gipsies. Von Wlislocki, _Volksdicht._, 351.\n\n [336.4]\n Dalton, 220; i. Risley, 138.\n\n [336.5]\n i. Risley, 449, 450.\n\n [337.1]\n i. Risley, 456, citing Grierson\u2019s _Behar Peasant Life_.\n\n [337.2]\n ii. Risley, 189.\n\n [337.3]\n i. Risley, 475.\n\n [337.4]\n _Ibid._ 532.\n\n [337.5]\n ii. Risley, 201.\n\n [338.1]\n i. Risley, 532.\n\n [339.1]\n Featherman, _Papuo-Mel._, 32.\n\n [339.2]\n _The Weekly Sun_, 28 Jan. 1893, quoting from Mr. Creagh\u2019s notes of his\n visit contributed to a newspaper published in British North Borneo. I\n am indebted to Mr. Edward Clodd for calling my attention to this.\n Zipporah\u2019s expression in Exodus iv. 25, 26, points to a similar\n ceremony among the early Hebrews. See Trumbull, 222.\n\n [340.1]\n Landes, _Contes Annam._, 207 (Story No. 84).\n\n [340.2]\n Codrington, 395 note.\n\n [341.1]\n H. F. Feilberg, in iii. _Am Urquell_, 3, citing Haukenaes.\n\n [342.1]\n Castr\u00e9n, _Vorlesungen_, 323.\n\n [342.2]\n _Ant\u00e8_, p. 247. In a Lapp story the hero, betrothed to the sun\u2019s\n sister and separated from her, goes in search of her. When he finds\n her she is at the point of death from sorrow. He pricks her in the\n hand, and sucks her blood; whereupon she revives, and they are happily\n married. Poestion, 233. In Bret Harte\u2019s story of _Sally Dows_, the\n heroine sucks the hero\u2019s blood from a snake-wound, and is told by an\n old Negress that this has bound them together, so that she can marry\n nobody else. We cannot doubt that the author found this in Negro\n superstitions. Contrast, however, the effect of this incident with\n that of the Irish tale of _The Wooing of Emer_, already referred to,\n p. 255.***\n\n [342.3]\n De Mensignac, 21, quoting Arago\u2019s _Voyage autour du Monde_. As to the\n use of red paint, meaning blood, by Australian natives, see decisive\n examples in ii. Curr, 36; xxiv. _Journ. Anthr. Inst._, 171.\n\n [343.1]\n Featherman, _Chiapo-Mar._, 267.\n\n [343.2]\n F. Fawcett, in v. _Folklore_, 24; ii. _Journ. Ind. Arch._, 358.\n\n [344.1]\n Dalton, 216.\n\n [344.2]\n Lewin, 129, 177.\n\n [345.1]\n iii. _Trans. Ethn. Soc._, N.S., 81.\n\n [345.2]\n xxx. _Sacred Bks._, 49.\n\n [345.3]\n Dr. Leitner, in v. _Asiatic Q. Rev._, 2d ser., 153.\n\n [345.4]\n Paulitschke, 248, citing Massaja.\n\n [345.5]\n Dorsey, _Cegiha Lang._, 342.\n\n [346.1]\n ii. _Rep. Austr. Ass._, 330.\n\n [346.2]\n ii. _Rep. Austr. Ass._, 314, 319; Featherman, _Papuo-Mel._, 32, 33.\n\n [346.3]\n Krauss, _Sitte und Brauch_, 275-6, 459.\n\n [346.4]\n A. G. Contis, in iv. _M\u00e9lusine_, 125.\n\n [346.5]\n Rodd, 105; Schroeder, 83.\n\n [346.6]\n ii. Witzschel, 235; Spiess, _Obererz._, 37.\n\n [346.7]\n B\u00e9renger-F\u00e9raud, 195; Schroeder, 82, 235.\n\n [347.1]\n ii. Laisnel de la Salle, 46.\n\n [347.2]\n Monseur, 36.\n\n [347.3]\n vii. _Rev. Trad. Pop._, 682, citing _Manuel des C\u00e9r\u00e9monies_ (1494);\n Schroeder, 83.\n\n [347.4]\n Featherman, _Aram._, 62, 75.\n\n [348.1]\n Schroeder, 82; Pigorini-Beri, 14; Ralston, _Songs_, 269; vii.\n _M\u00e9lusine_, 4; viii. _Rev. Trad. Pop._, 542; iii. _Zeits. des\n Vereins_, 267; Krauss, _Sitte und Brauch_, 356, 386; Trumbull, 73;\n Kolbe, 171; T\u00f6ppen, 81; ii. _Heimskringla_, 153.\n\n [349.1]\n Kolbe, 147; Winternitz, in _Congress_ (1891) _Report_, 281, quoting\n Romanoff, _Rites of the Greek Church_; _Odd Ways_, 82, 87, 102, 108.\n\n [349.2]\n See an account of an Armenian wedding in London, according to the\n rites of the Armenian National Church, _Daily News_, 28 Jan. 1892.\n\n [349.3]\n Bellew, 222.\n\n [349.4]\n Dalton, 193; i. Risley, 325. Among some allied tribes, when the bride\n is conducted to her husband\u2019s dwelling she is seated on a pile of\n unhusked rice. Oil is then poured over her head, and she is presented\n with some boiled rice and meat cooked in her new home. This she simply\n touches with her hand, and declares herself to belong to her husband\u2019s\n _kili_. Featherman, _Tur._, 60. The touching is doubtless the\n simplified equivalent of tasting, the simplification being accompanied\n by words explanatory of the intention of the rite. Compare the\n Abruzzian ceremony, ii. De Nino, 10.\n\n [350.1]\n ii. Risley, 8.\n\n [350.2]\n Lewin, 202.\n\n [350.3]\n G. Dumoutier, in viii. _Rev. Trad. Pop._, 405.\n\n [350.4]\n xxvii. _Sacred Bks._, 441; xxviii. 429.\n\n [350.5]\n i. Doolittle, 86.\n\n [350.6]\n Griffis, 249. This does not appear to be now, at all events, the\n operative part of the ceremony. Similar variations have affected the\n ceremony elsewhere.\n\n [351.1]\n vi. _Trans. Ethn. Soc._, N.S., 26; iii. _Journ. Ind. Arch._, 490; iv.\n 431; iii. _L\u2019Anthropologie_, 193; Trumbull, 192, 193; ii. Risley, 325.\n\n [351.2]\n iv. _Rev. Trad. Pop._, 362.\n\n [351.3]\n Schroeder, 235.\n\n [352.1]\n Th. Volkov, in ii. _L\u2019Anthropologie_, 558.\n\n [352.2]\n A. de Lazarque, in ix. _Rev. Trad. Pop._, 580.\n\n [352.3]\n F. Pulci, in xiii. _Archivio_, 417.\n\n [353.1]\n Featherman, _Tur._, 88.\n\n [353.2]\n R. Parkinson, in ii. _Internat. Archiv._, 38.\n\n [354.1]\n Burton, _Sindh_, 345.\n\n [354.2]\n Featherman, _Tur._, 30; i. Risley, 497; Hodgson, 178. So among the\n Mussulman Malabars of Ceylon the bridegroom\u2019s sister ties a\n consecrated cord around the bride\u2019s neck. Featherman, _Tur._, 203.\n\n [354.3]\n Hunter, _Rur. Bengal_, 207.\n\n [354.4]\n ii. Risley, 69.\n\n [354.5]\n Lubbock, 84, citing Hale\u2019s _United States Exploring Exped._ Compare\n the Kewat ceremony, i. Risley, 456.\n\n [355.1]\n Ellis, i. _Polyn. Res._, 272.\n\n [355.2]\n R. Parkinson, in ii. _Internat. Archiv_, 39; Hertz, 38 note, citing\n Abel R\u00e9musat.\n\n [355.3]\n Dr. W. Svoboda, in v. _Internat. Arch._, 193, citing the Jesuit Barbe.\n\n [355.4]\n F. Fawcett, in v. _Folklore_, 23.\n\n [356.1]\n Featherman, _Tur._, 490.\n\n [356.2]\n O. Knoop, in iii. _Zeits. f. Volksk._, 230.\n\n [356.3]\n Du Chaillu, ii. _Midnight Sun_, 240.\n\n [356.4]\n Zingerle, _Sagen_, 457; T\u00f6ppen, 76; A. Herrmann, in v. _Am Urquell_,\n 110.\n\n [356.5]\n Schwela, in iii. _Zeits. f. Volksk._, 478.\n\n [356.6]\n Rogers, 112.\n\n [357.1]\n Gregor, 95.\n\n [357.2]\n ii. Laisnel de la Salle, 66, 50. At Nagialmagy, in Hungary, young\n married women assemble on Saint Joseph\u2019s day and the day following, on\n the market-place and sell their kisses to all comers. ix. _Rev. Trad.\n Pop._, 359.\n\n [358.1]\n Filippo Seves, in xii. _Archivio_, 527.\n\n [358.2]\n Ostermann, 347; i. _Rivista_, 560.\n\n [358.3]\n B\u00e9renger-F\u00e9raud, 200, 194. A species of bride-dance seems to be\n practised at Heideboden, in Hungary, and perhaps also in various\n places of Italy and Greece. De Gubernatis, _Usi Nuz._, 189.\n\n [358.4]\n Herod. iv. 172; Lubbock, 535, quoting Mela; Diodorus Sic. v. 1.\n\n [359.1]\n Fison and Howitt, 201-5. The punishment for a guilty wife among some\n of the North American tribes was similar to that of the Kurnai. See\n Featherman, _Aoneo-Mar._, 161. Cf. Robertson Smith, _Kinship_, 137.\n Other traces of the Nasamonian rite are to be found among the North\n American Indians. See, for example, a curious Ponka legend given by\n Dorsey, _Cegiha_, 616.\n\n [362.1]\n ii. Garcilasso, 442. Elsewhere (i. 59) he speaks of the participants\n as \u201cthe nearest relations of the bride and her most intimate friends.\u201d\n He only refers vaguely to the peoples addicted to this form of the\n rite, and cites Pedro de Cieza as making the same assertion. I have\n not seen De Cieza\u2019s work; but Mr. Markham observes that he refers to\n New Granada, not Peru. I am strongly inclined to suspect, on more\n grounds than one, that Garcilasso\u2019s information is not to be relied\n on; and that, wherever the custom was followed, it was the\n bridegroom\u2019s rather than the bride\u2019s relations who took part. Did a\n somewhat similar custom obtain in Paraguay? See Featherman,\n _Chiapo-Mar._, 435. It is to be distinguished from a well-known East\n Indian custom which springs from a different motive. See Hertz, 41.\n\n [362.2]\n Mrs. French Sheldon, in xxi. _Journ. Anthrop. Inst._, 365. A relic of\n the same custom is found in Guatemala, where the marriage is\n consummated, not by the bridegroom, but by a kinsman, to whom the\n bride is brought by the bridegroom\u2019s mother for the purpose. Stoll, 8.\n\n [363.1]\n Capt. J. S. King, in vi. _F.L. Journ._, 124.\n\n [363.2]\n Krauss, _Sitte und Brauch_, 382, 456, 608.\n\n [365.1]\n iv. _Rep. Austr. Ass._, 672. See Morgan, _Anc. Soc._, 424.\n\n [366.1]\n Featherman, _Aram._, 75.\n\n [366.2]\n Volkov, in ii. _L\u2019Anthropologie_, 538, 539 note, quoting several\n authorities.\n\n [367.1]\n Macpherson, 133. Cf. the customs of other tribes, i. _N. Ind. N. and\n Q._, 124, 139, 177.\n\n [367.2]\n Marsden, 256.\n\n [367.3]\n Codrington, 238.\n\n [367.4]\n Casalis, 207; Featherman, _Nigr._, 642.\n\n [367.5]\n Featherman, _Chiapo-Mar._, 472, 459.\n\n [367.6]\n Stoll, 8. See note, _ante_, p. 362.***\n\n [368.1]\n i. Bancroft, 411.\n\n [370.1]\n See Lubbock, 131, 535; MacLennan, 341; Westermarck, 72. An exception\n must be made for the Babylonian and similar cases which do not appear\n referable to the exercise of communal marriage-rights.\n\n [371.1]\n i. Risley, 229.\n\n [371.2]\n i. Risley, 231. A similar distinction of guilt is drawn by the\n Dh\u00e1nuks (i. _ibid._, 221), the Ghasiyas of South Mirzapur (i. _N.\n Ind. N. and Q._, 167), the Dusadhs (ii. _ibid._, 32), the Kharwars\n (ii. _ibid._, 34), the Bhuts, though nominally Mohammedan (ii.\n _ibid._, 50), and other tribes. So also in Lad\u00e1k, iii. _N. Ind. N.\n and Q._, 168.\n\n [371.3]\n i. _N. Ind. N. and Q._, 168.\n\n [371.4]\n Featherman, _Drav._, 184.\n\n [372.1]\n Featherman, _Aoneo-Mar._, 590.\n\n [372.2]\n Herod. i. 216.\n\n [372.3]\n Forbes, in xiii. _Journ. Anthr. Inst._, 426; Trumbull, 54.\n\n [373.1]\n Robertson Smith, _Kinship_, 137.\n\n [373.2]\n Risley, _passim_. So also the Chukmas of the Chittagong Hills; Lewin,\n 187. And the Chinese; i. Gray, 219.\n\n [373.3]\n Gen. xxxviii. 8; Deut. xxv. 5.\n\n [373.4]\n B. W. Schiffer, in v. _Am Urquell_, 224: Dalyell, 313, citing Leo of\n Modena.\n\n [374.1]\n _Sacred Bks._, xxv., 337, 361, 365; ii., 164.\n\n [374.2]\n Sibree, 246.\n\n [374.3]\n Casalis, 199.\n\n [375.1]\n Risley, _passim_; Dalton, 16, 63, 138, 273, 321.\n\n [375.2]\n Elliot, i. _N.-W. Prov._, 136. See also, _ibid._, 5, 121, 274, 326;\n _N. Ind. N. and Q._, _passim_.\n\n [375.3]\n ii. _N. Ind. N. and Q._, 24.\n\n [375.4]\n i. _Ibid._ 157.\n\n [376.1]\n i. _N. Ind. N. and Q._, 84.\n\n [376.2]\n Biddulph, 76, 82; iii. _N. Ind. N. and Q._, 168.\n\n [376.3]\n Fosberry, in i. _Journ. Ethn. Soc._, N.S., 189.\n\n [376.4]\n Featherman, _Drav._, 558, 244. See Marco Polo, li., as to another\n Tartar tribe.\n\n [376.5]\n Marsden, 220, 228. Cf. ii. _L\u2019Anthropologie_, 257.\n\n [376.6]\n Modigliani, 553.\n\n [377.1]\n Modigliani, _Isola delle Donne_, 212, 215.\n\n [377.2]\n Parkinson, in ii. _Internat. Arch._, 39.\n\n [377.3]\n Man, in xii. _Journ. Anthr. Inst._, 139, 141.\n\n [377.4]\n Featherman, _Oceano-Mel._, 308.\n\n [377.5]\n Featherman, _Nigr._, 288, 290, 596, 762; Paulitschke, 205.\n\n [378.1]\n Ellis, _Yoruba_, 185.\n\n [378.2]\n Westermarck, 513, 514, quoting Shooter.\n\n [378.3]\n Featherman, _Aoneo-Mar._, 390. This liability is perhaps annexed to\n the inheritance; but it is certainly regarded as a liability rather\n than a right. _Rep. Nat. Mus._ (1888), 254.\n\n [378.4]\n Stoll, 7.\n\n [378.5]\n Featherman, _Aoneo-Mar._, 319.\n\n [378.6]\n Grinnell, _Blackfeet L.T._, 218; Dorsey, _Omaha Soc._, 258, 367.\n\n [379.1]\n i. _Rep. Bur. Ethn._, 184, 185.\n\n [379.2]\n Powers, 356.\n\n [379.3]\n Featherman, _Chiapo-Mar._, 100.\n\n [379.4]\n Turner, _Samoa_, 98; iv. _Rep. Austr. Ass._, 642.\n\n [379.5]\n Featherman, _Papuo-Mel._, 87.\n\n [379.6]\n iv. _Rep. Austr. Ass._, 628.\n\n [379.7]\n ii. _Rep. Austr. Ass._, 601.\n\n [379.8]\n Rev. B. Danks, in xviii. _Journ. Anthr. Inst._, 292.\n\n [379.9]\n Boas, in vi. _Rep. Bur. Ethn._, 615, quoting Lyon.\n\n [380.1]\n Dawson, 7, 27. See as to the natives of Northern Queensland, xiii.\n _Journ. Anthr. Inst._, 298; as to various tribes of South Australia\n and its northern territory, xxiv. _ibid._, 170, 178, 181, 194; as to\n other tribes, ii. Curr, 197, 425, 474; iii. 21, 546.\n\n [380.2]\n Garnett, ii. _Wom._, 234.\n\n [380.3]\n Saxo, 87; Elton\u2019s version, 106; i. _Corp. Poet. Bor._, 105. These\n mythological cases as testimony to an obsolete custom of polyandry may\n be compared with similar references in ancient Hindu writings quoted\n by Westermarck, 457.\n\n [381.1]\n ii. _Rep. Austr. Ass._, 314, 320; vi. _Journ. Ind. Arch._, 319.\n\n [381.2]\n iii. _N. Ind. N. and Q._, 168.\n\n [381.3]\n i. Bancroft, 731.\n\n [381.4]\n Cooper, 153.\n\n [382.1]\n Grinnell, _Blackfeet L.T._, 217.\n\n [382.2]\n Featherman, _Aoneo-Mar._, 213, 175, 274, 308, 319; _Chiapo-Mar._, 268,\n 16, 168; Brinton, _Amer. Race_, 96.\n\n [382.3]\n Dorsey, _Omaha Soc._, 261.\n\n [382.4]\n Fisher, in i. _Journ. Ethn. Soc._, N.S., 286. As to the Walla-Wallas,\n see Kane, 267, 270.\n\n [382.5]\n Brinton, _Amer. Race_, 48.\n\n [383.1]\n iv. _L\u2019Anthropologie_, 641.\n\n [383.2]\n i. Risley, 6, 17, 32, 135, 170, 192, 268, 307, 416; ii., 65, 69, 96,\n 186, 229, 293.\n\n [383.3]\n Shortt, in vii. _Trans. Ethn. Soc._, N.S., 240.\n\n [383.4]\n Featherman, _Tur._, 558.\n\n [383.5]\n xxv. _Sacred Bks._, 291.\n\n [383.6]\n Paulitschke, 204.\n\n [383.7]\n Chatelain, 119.\n\n [384.1]\n Lev. xviii. 18.\n\n [384.2]\n Featherman, _Oceano-Mel._, 297, 406.\n\n [384.3]\n Rev. S. Ella, in iv. _Rep. Austr. Ass._, 628.\n\n [384.4]\n ii. _Rep. Austr. Ass._, 331.\n\n [385.1]\n Volkov, in ii. _L\u2019Anthropologie_, 568.\n\n [386.1]\n i. De Groot, 3; xxviii. _Sacred Bks._, 238, 264; xxvii. 442.\n\n [386.2]\n Robertson Smith, _Kinship_, 148, 176; cf. 66.\n\n [387.1]\n MacLennan, _Studies_, 103, citing Latham\u2019s _Descriptive Ethnology_.\n\n [387.2]\n ii. _L\u2019Anthropologie_, 117, quoting a communication by M. Crampe to\n the Soci\u00e9t\u00e9 de G\u00e9ographie. Cf. the customs of giving up a child or\n paying for him mentioned by Paulitschke, 202; xxiii. _Journ. Anthr.\n Inst._, 4.\n\n [389.1]\n i. Risley, 150.\n\n [389.2]\n Marsden, 225, 236, 262; Modigliani, _Batacchi_, 35.\n\n [390.1]\n Featherman, _Tur._, 63.\n\n [390.2]\n ii. Risley, 282.\n\n [390.3]\n iii. _Zeits. f. Volksk._, 391, 479.\n\n [390.4]\n xxvii. _Sac. Bks._, 77; xxviii., 299. In case of divorce, however, she\n returns to the parental home, ii. De Groot, 507.\n\n [391.1]\n ii. Risley, 80; App., 97.\n\n [391.2]\n i. _N. Ind. N. and Q._, 132.\n\n [391.3]\n Lev. xxi. 1-4; xxii. 10-13.\n\n [391.4]\n Aulus Gellius, xiii. 10.\n\n [393.1]\n Featherman, _Tur._, 107.\n\n [394.1]\n Featherman, _Tur._, 263.\n\n [394.2]\n _Ibid._, _Tur._, 283.\n\n [395.1]\n iii. _Zeits. f. Volksk._, 433.\n\n [395.2]\n Volkov, in ii. _L\u2019Anthropologie_, 553.\n\n [396.1]\n Krauss, _Sitte und Brauch_, 278, 275, 277.\n\n [396.2]\n Codrington, 237.\n\n [396.3]\n Burton, _Sindh_, 272.\n\n [396.4]\n Smith, _Guinea_, 144.\n\n [397.1]\n ii. Kerr, 237.\n\n [397.2]\n Featherman, _Aram._, 422.\n\n [397.3]\n Hickson, 282.\n\n\n\n\n CHAPTER XV NOTES\n\n [401.1]\n On the Couvade generally the reader may consult Tylor, _Early Hist._,\n 291; H. Ling Roth, in xxii. _Journ. Anthr. Inst._, 204; Ploss, i.\n _Kind_, 143; Von Dargun, 18; and the correspondence in _The Academy_\n for 29th Oct., 5th, 12th, 19th Nov., 10th, 17th Dec. 1892.\n\n [404.1]\n Modigliani, 555; Ploss, i. _Kind_, 36.\n\n [404.2]\n Codrington, 228.\n\n [405.1]\n Von den Steinen, 334, 338, 503, 434.\n\n [406.1]\n Addy, 91. Compare the tale, cited _supr\u00e0_, p. 11, of the mother whose\n digging-stick broke when her child was taken away. In a Chinese tale a\n grown-up son feels pain when his mother bites her finger. i.\n Doolittle, 454.***\n\n [407.1]\n Tylor, _Early Hist._, 292, quoting Du Tertre.\n\n [408.1]\n Featherman, _Papuo-Mel._, 64.\n\n [411.1]\n Grimm, _Teut. Myth._, 1845.\n\n [411.2]\n Temme, _Altmark_, 87, 78.\n\n [411.3]\n ii. _Am Urquell_, 123.\n\n [411.4]\n De Zmidgrodzki, in vi. _Rev. Trad. Pop._, 40; Temme, _Altmark_, 88.\n\n [411.5]\n i. Kohlrusch, 340.\n\n [411.6]\n Temme, _Altmark_, 74.\n\n [411.7]\n Schiffer, in iv. _Am Urquell_, 170.\n\n [412.1]\n Tylor, _Early Hist._, 304, citing Wuttke.\n\n [412.2]\n Grimm, _Teut. Myth._, 1796; ii. Witzschel, 249. Other German examples\n will be found in Grimm, _Teut. Myth._, 1779, 1786, 1799, 1845; Temme,\n _Altmark_, 74, 88; ii. Witzschel, 244, 250; Ploss, i. _Kind_, 213,\n 216; Von Wlislocki, _Siebenb. Sachs._, 152; Hillner, 38; vi. _Am\n Urquell_, 93; Spiess, _Obererz._, 36.\n\n [412.3]\n ii. _Am Urquell_, 198.\n\n [413.1]\n Ploss, i. _Kind_, 216.\n\n [413.2]\n Knoop, _Posen_, 116.\n\n [413.3]\n Kaindl, 6.\n\n [413.4]\n Marchesa di Villamarina, in i. _Rivista_, 72.\n\n [414.1]\n B\u00e9renger-F\u00e9raud, 171; i. Strackerjan, 48; vi. _Am Urquell_, 93; ii.\n _Bull. de F.L._, 151.\n\n [414.2]\n ii. Laisnel de la Salle, 9.\n\n [414.3]\n Julie Filippi, in ix. _Rev. Trad. Pop._, 465.\n\n [414.4]\n Ostermann, 381.\n\n [414.5]\n viii. _Journ. Am. F.L._, 22.\n\n [414.6]\n ii. _Bull. de F.L._, 152.\n\n [414.7]\n Lady Vere de Vere, in i. _Rivista_, 447.\n\n [415.1]\n Ostermann, 381; i. _Rivista_, 635; ii. 45.\n\n [415.2]\n Von Wlislocki, in iii. _Am Urquell_, 93.\n\n [416.1]\n Dr. Krauss, in vii. _Internat. Archiv_, 168, 188, 191, 193, 196. See\n also Wilken, ii. _Haaropfer_, 68, quoting Grimm.\n\n [417.1]\n Kaindl, 25, 40.\n\n [417.2]\n Pigorini-Beri, 287.\n\n [418.1]\n ii. Laisnel de la Salle, 9.\n\n [419.1]\n Diod. Sic., iv. The Roman form seems to have been similar; Lubbock,\n 96, citing M\u00fcller, _Das Mutterrecht_.\n\n [420.1]\n Krauss, _Sitte und Brauch_, 600, quoting Jukic; 599.\n\n [420.2]\n ii. Laisnel de la Salle, 13, 39; Kolbe, 176.\n\n [420.3]\n Brayley, 36. A Swedish superstition requires a mother of a child\n begotten before marriage, herself to hold the child at the font,\n otherwise it will not be legitimate. Grimm, _Teut. Myth._, 1830,\n quoting Fernow\u2019s _Beskrifning \u00f6fver W\u00e4rmeland_.\n\n [421.1]\n A. Weidemann, in iii. _Am Urquell_, 259.\n\n [421.2]\n Girald. Cambr., _Topog._ xxiii.; Saxo, 82, 200; Elton\u2019s version, 99,\n 245.\n\n [421.3]\n Paulitschke, 193, citing Abbadie, _G\u00e9og. de l\u2019Ethiopie_.\n\n [421.4]\n Lubbock, 97, quoting Parkyn.\n\n [421.5]\n Hearn, 105.\n\n [421.6]\n xxv. _Sac. Bks._ 352.\n\n [422.1]\n As to adoption generally, in addition to the citations above, see,\n among others, Paulitschke, 209; Robertson Smith, _Kinship_, 44, 149;\n Aulus Gellius, v. 19; Hunter, _Captivity_, 19, 35, 249; ii. Domenech,\n 324, 350; Featherman, _Aoneo-Mar._, 184, 310, 320; _Chiapo-Mar._, 274;\n Codrington, 42; Marsden, 229; vi. _Rep. Bur. Ethn._, 580; ix., 419; i.\n Crantz, 165; i. _N. Ind. N. and Q._, 152, 204; D\u2019Arbois, i. _Droit\n Celt._, 251; Kaindl, 26. Biddulph, 82, describes fosterage in the\n Hindoo Koosh. Mr. Parkinson, in ii. _Internat. Arch._, 33, speaks of\n adoptive parents and children in the Kingsmill Islands. Adoption,\n however, seems there rather of the nature of sponsorship. It creates\n rights and duties, but does not involve detachment from the family of\n birth. A similar custom appears elsewhere in Polynesia.\n\n [424.1]\n Ramage, 241. Mr. Ramage\u2019s journey took place in 1828, and the incident\n referred to occurred at some previous date not indicated. May we hope\n the Italian peasant knows better by this time?\n\n [425.1]\n Strack, 86, citing _The Book of the Pious_.\n\n [425.2]\n L. F. Sauv\u00e9, in ii. _M\u00e9lusine_, 254; Le Braz, 231; A. de Cock, in x.\n _Rev. Trad. Pop._, 249.\n\n [425.3]\n Callaway, _Tales_, 284.\n\n [426.1]\n _Daily News_, 14th July 1894.\n\n [427.1]\n Ellis, _Ewe-speaking Peoples_, 208; _Yoruba_, 176, 300.\n\n [429.1]\n Dalton, 64.\n\n [429.2]\n ii. Binger, 260; Ellis, _Yoruba_, 299.\n\n [429.3]\n Fison and Howitt, 157 note.\n\n [430.1]\n i. _N. Ind. N. and Q._, 82.\n\n [430.2]\n The provisions of the Irish laws are carefully analysed, D\u2019Arbois, i.\n _Droit Celt_.\n\n [430.3]\n Professor Kovalevsky, in the interesting paper mentioned _ante_, p.\n 230 note, which he read to the British Association at Oxford last\n year, gave some account of the _Lex Barbarorum_ of Daghestan, a code\n written down in the last century, but embodying the ancient customs of\n the Chevsurs, Pschavs and Touchains of Daghestan, who speak a dialect\n of Georgian. The population is organised in _gentes_, called\n _touchoum_; and every _touchoum_ incurs joint responsibility for the\n acts of its members. \u201cConsanguinity,\u201d says the professor, \u201cto the\n remotest degree makes a man jointly responsible.\u2026 In case of murder or\n wounding, not only the trespasser but each one of the members of his\n _touchoum_, or gens, has to expect vengeance on the part of the\n _touchoum_ to which the victim belonged. The same mutual\n responsibility exists in the case of forcible entry.\u201d It is noteworthy\n that each _touchoum_ claims descent from some mythical ancestor.***\n\n [431.1]\n Bartels, 205, quoting some writer I have not traced. The want of exact\n references is too frequently a serious blot on German scholarship. Dr.\n Bartels is shamefully guilty in this respect.\n\n [432.1]\n Dyer, 171, quoting a paper by Mr. Chanter in ii. _Report and\n Transactions of the Devonshire Association_ (1867), 39.\n\n [432.2]\n Prof. Mikhailovskii, in xxiv. _Journ. Anthr. Inst._, 126.\n\n [432.3]\n Featherman, _Nigr._, 134, citing _A Walk across Africa_, by J. A.\n Grant (1803).\n\n [433.1]\n v. _Rep. Bur. Ethn._, 426.\n\n [433.2]\n vii. _Rep. Bur. Ethn._, 338, 350, 346.\n\n [434.1]\n ii. _Sax. Leechd._, 136.\n\n [434.2]\n Featherman, _Drav._, 246; _Chiapo-Mar._, 464; _Papuo-Mel._, 502;\n _Nigr._, 36, 750; xxiv. _Journ. Anthr. Inst._, 66.\n\n [435.1]\n Richardson, _The Folly of Pilgrimages_, 70.\n\n [435.2]\n i. Doolittle, 149. In Sardinia it is a common remedy, not merely in\n cases of bite by the famous spider, but for other diseases also, to\n bury the sick man up to his neck in earth, and to cause seven maidens,\n seven wives or seven widows, according as he is a bachelor, a married\n man or a widower, to dance round him. F. Valla, in xiv. _Archivio_,\n 40, 49. This seems referable to the same order of ideas.\n\n [435.3]\n _Supr\u00e0_, p. 94; i. _N. Ind. N. and Q._, 6.***\n\n [436.1]\n E. Reg\u00e0lia, in xiii. _Archivio_, 489.\n\n [436.2]\n ii. De Groot, 507, 621.\n\n [436.3]\n Andree, ii. _Ethnog. Par._, 11, citing Wuttke.\n\n [437.1]\n Landor, 225, 227. See Batchelor, 211, as to other Ainu tribes.\n\n [437.2]\n Anthony Jully, in v. _L\u2019Anthropologie_, 400.\n\n [437.3]\n Julian Ralph, in lxxxiv. _Harper\u2019s New Monthly Mag._, 177.\n\n [437.4]\n Featherman, _Papuo-Mel._, 179.\n\n [437.5]\n Codrington, 269.\n\n [437.6]\n Du Chaillu, _Eq. Afr._, 18.\n\n [438.1]\n i. De Groot, 90, 93, 64, 89.\n\n [439.1]\n ii. De Groot, 441; ii. Gray, 25, 305.\n\n [439.2]\n iv. _Internat. Arch._, 9. The Hawaiian practice of flinging the dead\n into a volcano or into the sea perhaps belongs to the class of\n superstitions dealt with in the above paragraph. Ellis, _Hawaii_, 336.\n\n [439.3]\n Taylor, 208.\n\n [444.1]\n Fison and Howitt, 170.\n\n\n\n\n PRESS NOTICES\n\n\u2018An interesting study in comparative mythology. The old school of\ninterpreters explained the presence of irrational and repulsive\nelements in classic legend as due to loss of the primitive purer\nmeaning of the names of the high-dwelling gods. But that has given\nplace to a more rational method. This explains the presence of the\ngross and barbaric as actual survivals of beliefs and customs from the\nrude myth-making stage out of which the higher races slowly emerged.\nTruly, a more excellent way.\u2019--_Daily Chronicle_.\n\n\u2018A most scholarly and fascinating book. Those who have not followed\nthe progress of similar investigations will be startled by its\nsuggestiveness.\u2019--_The Nation_.\n\n\u2018Folklore, treated as it is in the scientific method employed in the\npresent work, is raised at once to a high level of importance, and is\nfull of possibilities in the near future. It is a new science, but it\nis one which is already being elevated to a high standard of scholarly\nexcellence by the publication of such works as the one before us. We\nshall await the appearance of the second volume of Mr. Hartland\u2019s work\nwith much interest, when we shall hope to deal with the subject\nthoroughly as a whole.\u2019--_Antiquary_.\n\n\u2018There will be agreement as to the skill with which he has\ndisentangled a mass of valuable material and produced it in lively\nform.\u2019--_The Academy_.\n\n\u2018His book is one that no one interested in the early history of\nreligion, in folklore, or in anthropology can safely\nneglect.\u2019--_Manchester Guardian_.\n\n\u2018The latter half of the book, which deals with the subject of\nparthenogenesis and miraculous births generally throughout all\nliterature, is especially interesting, and makes one look forward to\nthe second volume.\u2019--_Pall Mall Gazette_.\n\n\u2018Mr. E. S. Hartland has placed himself on the trail of this venerable\nand widespread tradition, and he follows it up with the scent of a\nsleuth-hound, or of a born folklorist.\u2019--_Scotsman_.\n\n\u2018Mr. Frazer\u2019s great book, \u201cThe Golden Bough,\u201d began a new epoch in the\nmodern treatment of mythology. It showed us how to apply the\ncomparative method to the folklore and religious tales of all\ncountries and ages, with surprising results. Mr. Hartland is one of\nour most learned and competent workers in this novel field, and he\nably follows Mr. Frazer\u2019s footsteps.\u2026 Our author shows, with a\nmarvellous array of instances, that supernatural birth is almost\ninvariably claimed as a necessary attribute of the central figure in\nearly myths: and he examines minutely the various methods in which the\nmarvel takes place, the miraculous conception in a virgin being\ndiversely caused by numberless more or less tangible antecedents, from\nsomething half-magical eaten or drunk to a shower of gold or a ray of\nsunlight.\u2019--_Westminster Gazette_.\n\n\u2018Crammed with good reading that is eminently\nthought-producing.\u2019--_Speaker_.\n\n\n\n\n ERRATA\n\n[_Copied from volume III in the series_]\n\np. 147, note, after _letter xxviii._ insert _to Daines Barrington_\n\np. 271, note 4, for 68 read 57.\n\n\n\n\n TRANSCRIBER\u2019S NOTES\n\nThe title page is used as a cover.\n\nChapter numbering continues from the previous volume.\n\nPage numbers are given in {curly} brackets. Endnote markers are\ngiven in [square] brackets in the plain text version.\n\nMinor spelling inconsistencies (_e.g._ anthill/ant-hill,\nconjurer/conjuror, drinking-cup/drinking cup, etc.) have been\npreserved.\n\nAlterations to the text:\n\nConvert footnotes to endnotes. Relabel note markers: append the\noriginal note number to the page number.\n\nCreate errata page and copy corrigenda from volume III. Apply errata.\n\nAdd endnotes, press notices, and errata entries to TOC.\n\n[Chapter VIII]\n\nChange \u201cinterpretation of none of these presents any _diffculty_\u201d to\n_difficulty_.\n\n[Chapter XII]\n\n\u201cand _whereever_ a society has passed beyond the nomadic stage\u201d to\n_wherever_.\n\n[Chapter XIV]\n\n(entered his sept, and is truly his wife.\u201d Among the) delete quotation\nmark.\n\n[Endnotes]\n\nA few trivial punctuation and italics corrections.\n\n(p. 290, note 2) \u201cthe Welsh custom depends on _he_ statement of a\u201d to\n_the_.\n\n\n [End of text]","title":"The legend of Perseus, Volume 2 (of 3) : $b The life-token","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":142966}