{"collection":"scripture-revelation","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_71238/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_71238","id":"gutenberg_71238","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/71238","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Archaeology & Anthropology","Category: History - Religious","Category: Religion/Spirituality","Ethnopsychology","Magic","Religion","Rites and ceremonies"],"text":"RITUAL AND BELIEF\n\n STUDIES IN THE HISTORY OF\n RELIGION\n\n BY\n EDWIN SIDNEY HARTLAND, F.S.A.\n\n\n\n\n LONDON\n WILLIAMS AND NORGATE\n 14 HENRIETTA STREET, COVENT GARDEN, W.C.\n 1914\n\n\n\n\n PREFACE\n\n{v}\n\nAmong the various intellectual activities of the last fifty years\nnone has awakened a more widespread interest than that of the study of\nthe evolution of human civilization. The reason is apparent: it has\nrevolutionized our conception of human history, and has shaken to\ntheir very centre the religious traditions of Europe and civilized\nAmerica. The general doctrine of evolution as applied to the universe\nat large was established shortly after the middle of the nineteenth\ncentury by Darwin and Spencer. Geology had already revealed the\nenormous age of the earth, and the long procession of periods through\nwhich the flora and fauna had advanced to ever higher organization.\nArch\u00e6ology had begun its enquiries into the antiquity of man; but the\nevidence was not yet fully understood, and its weight or even its\nexistence was denied. While theology, after first indignantly\nrepudiating the new teachers, was trying with many grimaces to\naccommodate itself to their teaching, new lines of investigation were\nentered upon in this country and America by Lubbock, Tylor, M\u2018Lennan,\nand Morgan. The mental and social development of mankind, the history\nof ideas and of institutions, received fresh and unexpected\nillumination. It began to be possible to sketch a very different\noutline of human origins and early history from that which had\nhitherto remained almost unquestioned. In a country like ours, where\nan established Church {vi} arrogated to itself all social and almost\nall intellectual influences, and where it was very generally supported\nby those who dissented from it on other points in its dogmatic\nopposition to the results of scientific enquiry, it was natural that\nattention should be directed to the bearing of those results on\ntheology. Anthropology, as the new Science of Man came to be called,\nwas materially assisted in the quarrel by Biblical criticism begun in\nGermany and popularized in England by Colenso and others. The\nauthenticity of the books so long attributed to Moses was questioned\nand overthrown; they themselves were emptied of all historical\nauthority, and put on a level in this respect with the books of\nheathen nations. Professor Robertson Smith\u2019s fight for liberty of\ncriticism in the Free Church of Scotland roused the enthusiasm even of\nmen who did not agree with all his opinions; and when he was finally\nejected from his chair at Aberdeen, he was provided with a home first\nat Edinburgh and then at Cambridge, and the editorship of the\n_Encyclop\u00e6dia Britannica_. Thus unmuzzled, he devoted himself to the\nstudy of Semitic religion and customs on the largest scale and in the\nmost unbiassed spirit. Unfortunately, his health gave way; and two\nprecious volumes are well-nigh all that has reached us of his labours.\nBut his influence at Cambridge, and particularly over a younger\nfellow-countryman to whom we owe _The Golden Bough_, was of a most\nfruitful character. To the impulse he gave is to be traced\nmuch--perhaps more than we suspect--of what anthropology has\naccomplished in various directions during the last five-and-twenty\nyears.\n\nMeanwhile revolt against false interpretation of known facts and\ninadequate methods of enquiry had spread elsewhere. Professor Max\nM\u00fcller, by his unsurpassed {vii} powers of exposition, his eloquence\nand his wide knowledge of the Aryan tongues, had become the champion\nin this country of the German explanation of myths as a disease of\nlanguage, a teacher on whose lips learned and simple hung. Great as\nwas his learning, however, it was circumscribed by the Indo-European\nlanguages and literature. He took little account of savage myths which\ncould not be interpreted on his principles, and still less of the\nequally important rites and beliefs of European peasants and primitive\npeoples beyond the seas. In Germany, Mannhardt, originally a disciple\nof the same school, had turned to more reasonable and penetrating\nmodes of interpretation. It is his glory to have been the first to\ncombat the fancies of the philologists in a series of works steeped as\ndeeply in classical learning as theirs, but with a much wider outlook\nand a keener sense of actuality. Yet he died without having made many\nconverts; and in Germany still the sun-myth lingers, though hastening\nfast to its inevitable setting. In England his works were hardly\nknown, when, in 1887, Andrew Lang, after a powerful article on\n\u201cMythology\u201d in the _Encyclop\u00e6dia Britannica_, and other preliminary\nessays, published _Myth, Ritual and Religion_, in which he attacked\nwith overwhelming acumen and wit the philological position. It is not\ntoo much to say that as far as English-speaking countries were\nconcerned the blow was decisive, the philological position was\ncarried, and the enemy\u2019s flag planted triumphantly on the battlements.\n\nThe way was thus cleared for a really scientific enquiry into the\nbeginnings of religion. No longer were we hampered with the story of\nGenesis and the primitive revelation. Our vision was not to be bounded\nby the Aryan and Semitic peoples. The guesswork of the philological\nschool was at an end, and ritual was admitted {viii} to be at least as\nindispensable to the enquiry as story and belief. Professor Tylor had\nalready done something more than pioneer work in the chapters on\nMythology and Animism in _Primitive Culture_. In the chapters on\nAnimism in particular he had exhibited the universal belief in the\nsouls, not merely of human beings, but of other animate, and even of\ninanimate, creatures. He had boldly discussed the relation of this\nbelief to the doctrine of spirits generally, and considered the\ntransitional series of ideas through the cult of the dead, possession,\nfetishism, idol-worship, and the beliefs of the Christian Fathers. It\nbecame evident that a doctrine so complex and subtle, even in its\nsimpler manifestations, could not bean original and innate belief of\nthe human mind, but that it must have been evolved from something\nsimpler, perhaps vaguer, certainly more comprehensive. \u201cA theoretical\nconception of primitive philosophy, designed to account for phenomena\nnow classed under Biology, especially Life and Death, Health and\nDisease, Sleep and Dreams, Trance and Visions\u201d pre-supposes a long\nperiod of observation, comparison and discussion, during which the\nideas slowly took shape and ranged themselves round a central theory.\n\nThe late Mr Andrew Lang was the first seriously to consider the\nquestions involved. His answer, given in _The Making of Religion_\n(1898), was twofold. On the one hand, he suggested that \u201cthe savage\ntheory of the soul may be based, at least in part, on\nexperiences\u201d--hypnotism, clairvoyance, hallucination, and so\nforth--\u201cwhich cannot at present be made to fit into any purely\nmaterialistic system of the universe.\u201d On the other hand, he contended\nthat \u201cthe idea of God, in its earliest known shape, need not logically\nbe derived from the idea of spirit, however that idea itself may have\nbeen attained or {ix} evolved.\u201d In this he was aiming partly at Sir\nEdward Tylor\u2019s theory of Animism, as developed in the last of his\nfamous chapters on that subject, partly at the theory of the ancient\nsceptic Euhemerus, revived and championed within recent years by\nHerbert Spencer and Grant Allen, that gods had been developed out of\nthe ghosts of dead men. He sought to draw a broad distinction between\nthe two concepts, that of a god and that of a spirit of any sort. He\nclaimed that the idea of God was earlier than that of a spirit, and\nthat \u201ca relatively Supreme God,\u201d often expressly described as Creator,\nexisting before death came into the world, and practically eternal,\nhad everywhere preceded the propitiation of the dead. He did not\ncommit himself to any definite opinion as to how this idea of a\nSupreme God was reached by the rude forefathers of the race. But when\nhe oracularly observed, \u201cThe hypothesis of St Paul seems not the most\nunsatisfactory,\u201d it is no wonder that orthodox readers understood by\nthat expression a primitive revelation, whereas what he meant was the\nargument from Design as stated in Rom. i. 19, 20. Though Lang\u2019s book,\ntherefore, was hailed as a sign that anthropological science was after\nall coming round to the support of the old orthodoxy, he himself was\ntoo true a sceptic to fall satisfactorily into line. In fact, he\nsolved nothing. The \u201cHigh Gods\u201d of the lowest savages must have had\nsome origin, must have been evolved out of conceptions lower or more\nindefinite.\n\nProfessor Frazer has approached the problem from another side. In the\nfirst edition of _The Golden Bough_ he attempted no definition of\nReligion; and the relation of Magic to Religion, therefore, was hardly\nclear. Critics did not fail to call his attention to this. In the\nsecond edition (1900) he accordingly proceeded to define {x} his\nposition. There, with Sir Alfred Lyall and Professor Jevons, he\nrecognizes \u201ca fundamental distinction and even opposition of principle\nbetween magic and religion\u201d; and in _The Magic Art_, he has more\nrecently somewhat expanded his exposition of their relations. Magic,\nit appears, is a false science based on the assumption \u201cthat in nature\none event follows another necessarily and invariably without the\nintervention of any spiritual or personal agency.\u201d Religion is \u201ca\npropitiation or conciliation of powers superior to man which are\nbelieved to direct and control the course of nature and of human\nlife.\u201d Man began with magic. He knew of no beings superior to himself,\nand he believed that by certain ceremonies he could cause the results\nhe desired. \u201cYet his power, great as he believes it to be, is by no\nmeans arbitrary and unlimited. He can wield it only so long as he\nstrictly conforms to the rules of his art, or to what may be called\nthe laws of nature as conceived by him. To neglect these rules, to\nbreak these laws in the smallest particular is to incur failure, and\nmay even expose the unskilful practitioner himself to the utmost\nperil. If he claims a sovereignty over nature, it is a constitutional\nsovereignty, rigorously limited in its scope, and exercised in exact\nconformity with ancient usage.\u201d After a while man found out his\nblunder. \u201cThe shrewder intelligences must in time have come to\nperceive that magical ceremonies and incantations did not really\neffect the results they were designed to produce, and which the\nmajority of their simpler fellows still believed that they did\nactually produce.\u2026 The discovery amounted to this, that men for the\nfirst time recognized their inability to manipulate at pleasure\ncertain natural forces which hitherto they had believed to be\ncompletely within their control. It was a confession of human {xi}\nignorance and weakness. Man saw that he had taken for causes what were\nno causes, and that all his efforts to work by means of these\nimaginary causes had been vain.\u2026 Not that the effects which he had\nstriven so hard to produce did not continue to manifest themselves.\nThey were still produced, but not by him.\u201d In this emergency he turned\nto \u201ca new system of faith and practice, which seemed to offer a\nsolution of his harassing doubts and a substitute, however precarious,\nfor that sovereignty over nature which he had abdicated. If the great\nworld went on its way without the help of him or his fellows, it must\nsurely be because there were other beings, like himself, but far\nstronger, who, unseen themselves, directed its course and brought\nabout all the varied series of events which he had hitherto believed\nto be dependent on his own magic.\u2026 To these mighty beings, whose\nhandiwork he traced in all the gorgeous and varied pageantry of\nnature, man now addressed himself, humbly confessing his dependence on\ntheir invisible power, and beseeching them of their mercy to furnish\nhim with all good things.\u201d Here, to be sure, was a revolution. The Age\nof Religion succeeded to the Age of Magic, though gradually,\nreluctantly, and, as regards at least the majority of mankind,\nincompletely even to the present day.\n\nIt is needless to dwell on the contrast between this hypothesis and\nLang\u2019s. The one traces religion back to the belief in a Supreme God,\nthe other to a reaction against the belief in magic. They are alike in\none respect: they both derive it from an exercise of man\u2019s reasoning\nfaculties. It seems a just criticism to say that neither of them takes\nsufficient account of man\u2019s emotional nature. Yet it must have played\nan important part in the evolution of religion. It is, if I may say\nso, the merit of another {xii} enquirer, Dr R. R. Marett, that he was\nthe first to point this out. In an article published in _Folk-lore_ in\nthe year 1900, he analyzed, with psychological knowledge and skill,\nthe experiences that underlay Animism, and came to the conclusion that\nbehind the logic was emotion, the recoil from the uncanny and the\nmysterious, \u201cthat basic feeling of awe, which drives a man, ere he can\nthink or theorize upon it, into personal relations with the\nSupernatural.\u201d Dr Marett\u2019s views have been subsequently developed in a\nseries of papers printed in different periodicals and collections, and\nrepublished in 1909 in a volume entitled _The Threshold of Religion_.\nThis has been supplemented more recently by his inaugural lecture as\nReader in Social Anthropology at Oxford, on _The Birth of Humility_\n(1910), in which he takes the opportunity of criticizing with vivacity\nand effect Professor Frazer\u2019s exposition of the relations of magic and\nreligion. His opinions have been reinforced by the independent\nenquiries of two learned Frenchmen, MM. Hubert and Mauss, who in 1904\npublished in _L\u2019Ann\u00e9e Sociologique_ a remarkable \u201cEsquisse d\u2019une\nth\u00e9orie g\u00e9n\u00e9rale de la Magie,\u201d reissued five years later among\ntheir collected essays entitled _M\u00e9langes d\u2019Histoire des Religions_.\nThey approach the subject from the social side, insisting that\nreligion is before everything a social matter, its judgements are\nsocial judgements, its rites social rites. They point out its intimate\nconnection with magic, and by skilful analysis exhibit the parallelism\nbetween them.\n\nMore recently the psychological aspect of the problem has been\nconsidered by a group of American writers, notably by Professor James\nLeuba (_A Psychological Study of Religion_) and Dr Irving King (_The\nDevelopment of Religion_, New York, 1910). The latter work is a most\nsuggestive and judicious survey of the evidence afforded {xiii} by\nsavage rites and belief. The writer insists on the priority of rites\nto belief, and finds their origin in social activities, largely in\nwhat he calls play-activities, and in spontaneous reactions to the\nenvironment. The religious attitude may be coeval with these\nactivities, but organized beliefs were developed gradually. The\nparticular forms they took were the result of different social\nsituations, these in turn depending on the physical and cultural\nenvironment. \u201cIn and so far as they have elements which are similar\nfunctionally, religion and magic,\u201d he holds, \u201coriginally formed a part\nof a primitive, undifferentiated attitude, and separated from each\nother as experience became more complex and the requirements of action\nmore varied.\u201d Magic became the individualist and antisocial\napplication of the impulses and organized methods of which religion\nwas the social expression and application.\n\nLastly, Professor Durkheim, taking Totemism as the most primitive\nreligion known to us, has in _Les Formes El\u00e9mentaires de la vie\nReligieuse_ analyzed elementary conceptions, with the result that he\nderives religious ideas and practices entirely from a social origin.\nAs I have considered his theory more fully on another page, it needs\nno further reference here.\n\nThus at the present moment the controversy stands--if it be legitimate\nto call it a controversy. Criticism, according to a pregnant saying of\nAndrew Lang\u2019s, is a form of co-operation--of co-operation in the\npursuit of truth. The following essays are intended in that spirit as\na humble contribution to the discussion. Their primary intention is\nnot controversial. They rather seek to express some of the results of\na study of the phenomena, from the point of view of one who has been\nconvinced that the emotions and the imagination--and {xiv} not merely\nthe individual, but the collective emotions and imagination--have had\nat least as much to do with the generation of religious practices and\nbeliefs as the reason, and that for the form they may have assumed,\nphysical, social, and cultural influences must be held accountable.\n\nThe essay on \u201cThe Relations of Religion and Magic\u201d is an expansion of\ntwo presidential addresses, one delivered to the Anthropological\nSection of the British Association at York in 1906, the other to the\nsection on the Religions of the Lower Culture at the International\nCongress for the History of Religions at Oxford in 1908. The essay on\n\u201cThe Rite at the Temple of Mylitta\u201d was contributed to the volume of\n_Anthropological Essays_ presented to Sir Edward Tylor, in honour of\nhis seventy-fifth birthday, in 1907. That on \u201cThe Voice of the Stone\nof Destiny\u201d was published in _Folk-lore_, 1903. Both of these have\nundergone revision. The remaining essays are new. One of them deals as\na preliminary with some of the difficulties that beset the enquirer\ninto the religious ideas of the lower races, with wandering fires that\nmislead him, with barriers that seem impassable. The others seek to\nconcentrate attention on particular instances of ritual or belief, to\nelucidate the ideas and emotions that underlie them, or further to\nillustrate their evolution. I am indebted to the publishers of such as\nhave been already published for their courtesy in facilitating\nreproduction here.\n\n                                              E. SIDNEY HARTLAND\n\n Highgarth, Gloucester,\n   _January_ 1914.\n\n\n\n\n CONTENTS\n\n{xv}\n\n LEARNING TO \u201cTHINK BLACK\u201d\n THE RELATIONS OF RELIGION AND MAGIC:\n   I. THE COMMON ROOT\n   II. THEORIES AND DEFINITIONS\n   III. DEVELOPMENT\n   IV. DIVERGENCE\n THE BOLDNESS OF THE CELTS\n THE HAUNTED WIDOW\n THE PHILOSOPHY OF MOURNING CLOTHES\n THE RITE AT THE TEMPLE OF MYLITTA\n THE VOICE OF THE STONE OF DESTINY\n BIBLIOGRAPHICAL LIST\n ENDNOTES\n\n\n\n\n RITUAL AND BELIEF\n\n{1}\n\n LEARNING TO \u201cTHINK BLACK\u201d\n\nSir Edward Tylor begins the chapters on Animism in that great work\nwhich laid the foundation of the modern study of the history of\ncivilization, by a discussion of the evidence for the existence of\ntribes destitute of religion. In some half-dozen pages he easily shows\nthat the existence of such tribes, \u201cthough in theory possible, and\nperhaps in fact true, does not at present rest on that sufficient\nproof which, for an exceptional state of things, we are entitled to\ndemand.\u201d He convicts travellers and missionaries who have made the\nassertion, of contradicting themselves; and he renders probable that\nthe denial of religion to peoples in the lower culture is begotten of\na perverted judgement in theological matters, and \u201cthe use of wide\nwords in narrow senses.\u201d[1.1]\n\nOther causes are equally prolific of error in regard to savage\nbeliefs. Sir Edward Tylor refers to haste and imperfect acquaintance\nby the traveller with the people whose beliefs he is professing to\nrepeat. These are obvious causes on which it is needless to dwell.\nMany peoples, too, are accustomed out of mere politeness to endeavour\nto divine what sort of answer to his remarks will please a guest, or\nwhat sort of answer an enquirer expects to his questions, and to make\nit accordingly, {2} regardless whether it has any relation to the\nfacts or not. This courtier-like etiquette of agreement applies to\nevery subject, and is emphasized when the enquirer is an official or\nsocial superior from whom favour may be looked for or displeasure\napprehended. The Malayans, a jungle tribe of southern India,\ninvariably say \u201cYes\u201d in reply to a question by a government officer or\na member of a higher caste, \u201cbelieving that a negative answer might\ndisplease him.\u201d[2.1] In such cases it is difficult to extract the\ntruth on the most indifferent and trivial, to say nothing of\nweightier, matters.\n\nPassing over these commonplaces, let us pause for a moment on another\ncause mentioned by Tylor, namely, the natural reluctance of savages to\nreveal \u201cto the prying and contemptuous foreigner their worship of gods\nwho seem to shrink, like their worshippers, before the white man and\nhis mightier Deity.\u201d[2.2] Very instructive is the account given by\nKolben of the Hottentots. Writing in the early years of the eighteenth\ncentury, he says it is \u201ca difficult thing to get out of the Hottentots\nwhat are really their notions concerning God and religion, or whether\nthey have any at all. They keep all their religious opinions and\nceremonies, as they do every other matter established among them, as\nsecret as they can from Europeans, and when they are questioned\nconcerning such matters are very shy in their answers and hide the\ntruth as much as they can.\u201d They take refuge from questions in \u201ca\nthousand fictions,\u201d which they excuse, when taxed with them, by\nalleging that \u201cthe Europeans are a crafty, designing people. They\nnever ask a question for the sake of the answer only, but have other\nends to serve, perhaps against the peace and security of the\nHottentots.\u201d From this source, we are told, have sprung {3} most of\nthe contradictions to be found in authors upon the religion of the\nHottentots.[3.1] More than a hundred years after Kolben\u2019s day a\nBritish traveller, exploring Great Namaqualand under the auspices of\nthe British Government and of the Royal Geographical Society,\nassembled some of the old men among the Namaqua and put them through\nan examination. His thirst for information was doubtless praiseworthy;\nand he was at least successful in proving, albeit unconsciously, the\ntruth of the older traveller\u2019s words. For the proceeding he adopted\naffords a brilliant example of \u201chow not to do it.\u201d I quote some of his\nquestions: \u201cWhat laws have the Namaqua?\u201d Answer--\u201cThey have none; they\nonly listen to their chiefs.\u201d \u201cDo the people know anything of the\nstars?\u201d Answer--\u201cNothing.\u201d \u201cDo the Namaqua believe in lucky and\nunlucky days?\u201d Answer--\u201cThey don\u2019t know anything of these things.\u201d\n\u201cAre there rainmakers in the land?\u201d Answer--\u201cNone.\u201d \u201cWhat do the old\nNamaqua think becomes of people when they die?\u201d Answer--\u201cThey know\nnothing of these things; all they see is that the people die and are\nburied, but what becomes of them they know not; and before the\nmissionaries came to the Great River the people had never heard of\nanother world.\u201d[3.2]\n\nMany European casuists justify one who is questioned concerning\nmatters he desires to keep secret, and who meets the inquisitive\nperson with a falsehood. It cannot therefore be surprising that these\npoor Hottentots thus took advantage of the only defence open to them\nwhen they found their most cherished beliefs and customs the subject\nof impertinent and bungling interrogations by an {4} unsympathetic\nintruder into their country. Their Bantu neighbours do the same. The\nKaffir, we are told, \u201cdislikes to find Europeans investigating his\ncustoms, and he usually hides all he can from them and takes a\nsportive pleasure in baffling and misleading them.\u201d[4.1] When\nquestioned by Andersson, the Ovambo denied that they had any belief,\nor abruptly stopped him with a \u201cHush!\u201d[4.2] Prying of this kind is\nrarely welcomed even among peoples on a much higher plane of\ncivilization. Not to appeal to our own feelings, we may take as an\nillustration a people of the Far East. To question a native of Korea\nconcerning custom or belief at once arouses his suspicions. Indeed,\nfor a stranger to enquire the number of houses in a village, or what\nthe land produces, needs much tact if bad feeling is to be avoided. A\nmissionary who lived for many years in the country was of opinion that\npeople are unconscious of their customs. At any rate a Korean asked\nsuddenly about a certain custom will in all likelihood deny that such\na thing exists; and yet he may be absolutely free from dishonesty in\nthe matter: he is simply unconscious, he has never thought about\nit.[4.3]\n\nTo this point we will return directly: our present point is the\nconscious refusal of information. And here it should be noted that\nsavages, as well as others, do not hide their beliefs only because\nthey do not understand the motive of enquiry, or because they are\nafraid of ridicule or of the denunciations of the missionary, even\nwhere the Christian priest can call down the thunderbolt of the\nmagistrate. These reasons operate, but not alone. {5} From all\nquarters of the world comes the report that the native is\nuncommunicative. The Lengua Indians of the Paraguayan Chaco are quite\naware that their \u201csuperstition is regarded with disfavour by the\nmissionaries\u201d; but they are naturally \u201cvery reticent in these\nmatters,\u201d and their reticence is only heightened--not caused--by this\nknowledge.[5.1] An excellent illustration of the difficulty of\ndiscovering the beliefs and even the practices of savages is afforded\nby Mr Batchelor, a missionary who, having resided among the Ainu of\nJapan for more than twelve years, wrote an interesting book upon them.\nHe naturally supposed that so long a residence and intimacy with them\nentitled him to think he knew practically all that could be told about\nthem. Alas for the fallibility of even a careful observer! There was\none chamber in the mind of every Ainu which he had not explored. When\nanother twelve years had elapsed he wrote that \u201cwhen writing that book\nI must frankly confess that I had no idea, nor had I for many years\nafter, that ophiolatry was practised at all by this people.\u201d And all\nthe while the Ainu whom he knew so well were holding beliefs, relating\nmyths, and practising rites of which he had not the least\nsuspicion.[5.2] Nor is there any reason to suggest that they were\nconcealing those things from him out of fear of ridicule or clerical\nreproofs.\n\nDeeper reasons exist. German missionaries have been labouring for a\nnumber of years among the tribes on the north-eastern coast of New\nGuinea. In view of the various difficulties attending the\ninvestigation of the beliefs of these tribes the latest scientific\nexplorer of the country called in the aid of some of the more\nexperienced {6} of the missionaries. He thus sums up the position:\n\u201cThe heathen Papuan is a reticent fellow, and no power in the world\ncan move him to disclose the secrets of his fathers. He has too much\nfear of the vengeance of the spirits and of the sorcerers, who would\ninfallibly kill him if he betrayed the smallest thing. Long years of\nwork accomplished with endless patience have been necessary to\nconvince the Black that sorcery is powerless,--that it is all lies and\ndeceit. Only if he is about to be baptized will he voluntarily deliver\nup to his teacher his knowledge of witchcraft and its methods. In\nplain terms, he feels the need on this point to lighten both his\nconscience and his pocket.\u201d[6.1] Reasons of this order have never\nbeen better put than by an eminent French anthropologist whose\nuntimely death a few years ago was a serious blow to the cause of\nscience. Reviewing the work of a lady for whom English colleagues yet\nmourn, he says: \u201cThe savage does not like to speak of his belief; he\nfears the contemptuous mockery of the Whites. Perhaps, too, he fears\nto give an advantage over himself, in allowing more to be known than\nis fitting of the rites by which he tries to conciliate the\nbenevolence of the spirits, or to turn away their disfavour from his\nhut and his plantations. To make known his resources for the fight\nwould be to half-disarm him; surrounded with supernatural dangers, he\ndoes not willingly indicate the supernatural means by which he\nguarantees himself against them.\u201d[6.2] One other reason may be added\nto these: a reason probably operative in many more cases than\nenquirers have been aware of. The things after which they ask are\noften revealed only to the initiate. An {7} outsider, one who is not\nknown to be, or at least treated as, an initiate, will seek in vain by\nmeans direct or indirect for information on these matters. A stony\nsilence or repeated lies are all he will get. This has been the cause\nof much mystification and many contradictory statements about tribes\nin various parts of the world, not the least in Australia.[7.1]\n\nIt is not suggested, of course, that all contradictory statements\nemanate from the deliberate mystification of non-initiate enquirers.\nWe have not by any means exhausted the causes of error in regard to\nsavage beliefs. Contradictory statements are made in good faith\nbecause those who make them hold contradictory beliefs. On the\nsubject, for example, of the future life the mutually destructive\ncharacter of the beliefs often held by the same tribes, and even by\nthe same individuals, is one of the truisms of anthropology. The Zulus\nand their neighbours hold that their dead are to be recognized in the\nform of various animals, notably snakes, that haunt the tomb or the\nabodes of the living, and yet that these very dead dwell in the bowels\nof the earth, presiding in patriarchal fashion over shadowy kraals,\nand rejoicing in the possession of herds of sky-blue kine with red and\nwhite spots. Moreover, notwithstanding this wealth of cattle, they are\ndependent, if not for their continued existence, at least for their\ncomfort, on the sacrifices offered by their descendants. The truth is\nthat \u201cthe whole spirit-world is one of haze and uncertainty.\u201d[7.2]\nThis opinion, expressed by an experienced missionary, {8} is true of\nall savage and barbarous nations. It is not merely the doctrine of\nsouls that is difficult to understand fully and to state clearly: all\nthe relations with the supernatural are shifting; and the supernatural\nitself melts away into mist and gloom and the undefined terrors of\nnight.\n\nProof of the mental capacity of peoples in the lower culture, and\ntheir alertness within the narrow range of their appetites, their\nbodily needs, and the warfare they wage for existence against untoward\nenvironment of various kinds, is to be found in every record of\nexploration, in the reports of every missionary. Beyond that range\nthere are differences between races, as between individuals, in\nreasoning power, in curiosity, and in general development. Some cause\nto us unknown may have turned the thoughts of one people into\nprofounder and subtler channels than those of another. We are told of\ntwo neighbouring tribes in California that their differences are very\nstriking, and are based on deep-lying racial factors. The mythology of\nthe one is more dramatic, that of the other is more metaphysical,\nexhibiting \u201cmore of the power of abstract thought and intellectual\nconception.\u201d[8.1] We must beware of reading too extensive a meaning\ninto what is after all merely a comparison of characteristics. It is\nadduced here for the sole purpose of illustrating the statement that\nsuch differences exist even between tribes that are subject to similar\nexternal influences. In spite of these differences the unanimous\nverdict, alike of missionaries and explorers, scientific enquirers and\ntraders, given with tiresome iteration, is that of dormant faculties,\nwant of interest, inability to follow a train of thought, and dislike\nof intellectual effort. These are qualities that we are sufficiently\nfamiliar {9} with at home to render them fully credible in \u201cthe poor\nheathen.\u201d Ask a man anywhere--ask a Zulu, ask an English peasant--why\nsuch and such a thing is done. He will tell you: \u201cIt is the custom,\u201d\nand will look at you with wondering eyes that you can demand a reason\nor dream of any alternative as possible. Custom to him is more than a\nsecond nature. It is nature itself, the established order, the cosmos.\nTo conceive of departure from it would entail a greater burden of\nthought than he has ever undertaken or would willingly bear. It may\neven be so much a part of his existence that, like the Korean referred\nto above, he is barely conscious of it.\n\nIn such a case the custom may be denied in perfect good faith.\nSometimes, it is true, another cause may lead to the denial. This is\nwell illustrated in a recent work on the Holy Land. The author,\nspeaking of local variations of custom, says: \u201cThe small area in which\npeculiar customs occur, and the comparative isolation of these areas\nwhich still prevails, make it often extremely difficult to ascertain\nlocal customs and usages. Many of these can only be discovered\naccidentally or by long residence in the particular locality. The\npeople of neighbouring villages may be quite unaware of the existence\nof a certain custom, while only a few miles away it may be very\nfamiliar. I have known intelligent, educated natives to be entirely\nignorant of certain customs, and even to deny their existence, because\nthey were not in vogue in their own particular district, whereas\nfurther enquiry or fuller acquaintance with other parts revealed the\nfact that they were perfectly familiar to others.\u201d[9.1] Here the\nexpression \u201cintelligent, educated natives\u201d must be interpreted of\ncourse by reference to the standard {10} of intelligence and education\nin the rural parts of a country so backward as Palestine. In such a\ncase the ignorance by natives described as intelligent and educated of\ncustoms quite different from, and perhaps opposed to, their own may be\ndue to the concentration of their faculties in the struggle for daily\nneeds, or the absorption of their interests in the concerns of their\nown little community. Millions of men and women in our country, who\nmay be fairly described, by reference to their class and occupation,\nas \u201cintelligent, educated natives,\u201d are quite ignorant--and supremely\nindifferent--about everything not pertaining to their material\nwell-being, their habitual amusements, the affairs of their little\ntown, their family or their church, or the latest scandal whispered in\ntheir tiny coterie. These fill up their life; they have neither\nleisure nor inclination to worry about anything beyond. We cannot,\ntherefore, be surprised that where the facilities for communication\nare smaller and the general indigence greater, similar mental\nindolence may exist. Economic causes, the product themselves of the\nenvironment, are often responsible for internal conditions, and cannot\nbe disentangled from them. Intelligent curiosity about things not\nimmediately or apparently affecting ourselves is a rare virtue, and of\nlate development. We ourselves often deem that we pay it abundant\nhomage by witnessing the exhibition of a few lantern slides, or\nslumbering tranquilly through a lecture on Dante. But to it, if\nrightly and strenuously pursued, we owe how much of modern discovery\nand the amenities of civilization! Let us, however, return to our\nsavages.\n\nOf the Nootkas or Ahts of Vancouver Island we are told by Sproat in a\npassage that has often been quoted that he \u201chad abundant proof in\nconversing with them about matters in which they took an interest,\nthat their mental {11} capacities are by no means small. It is true\nthat the native mind, to an educated man, seems generally to be\nasleep; and if you suddenly ask a novel question, you have to repeat\nit while the mind of the savage is awaking, and to speak with emphasis\nuntil he has got your meaning. This may partly arise from the\nquestioner\u2019s imperfect knowledge of the language; still, I think, not\nentirely, as the savage may be observed occasionally to become\nforgetful when voluntarily communicating information. On his attention\nbeing fully aroused he often shows much quickness in reply and\ningenuity in argument. But a short conversation wearies him,\nparticularly if questions are asked that require efforts of thought or\nmemory on his part. The mind of the savage then appears to rock to and\nfro out of mere weakness, and he tells lies and talks\nnonsense.\u201d[11.1] On this Professor Boas, the distinguished American\nanthropologist, comments thus: \u201cI happen to know through personal\ncontact the tribes mentioned by Sproat. The questions put by the\ntraveller seem mostly trifling to the Indian; and he naturally soon\ntires of a conversation carried on in a foreign language, and one in\nwhich he finds nothing to interest him. As a matter of fact, the\ninterest of those natives can easily be raised to a high pitch, and I\nhave often been the one who was wearied out first. Neither does the\nmanagement of their intricate system of exchange prove mental\ninertness in matters which concern the natives. Without mnemonic aids,\nthey plan the systematic distribution of their property in such a\nmanner as to increase their wealth and social position. These plans\nrequire great foresight and constant application.\u201d[11.2]\n\nSo far as this comment is directed to depreciate the {12} value of\nSproat\u2019s estimate of the mental powers of the Nootkas, I cannot think\nthat Professor Boas has been quite fair to the writer. Sproat was no\npassing traveller, speaking to the natives in a foreign language, and\njotting down superficial impressions derived from hasty observation.\nHe had \u201clived among them and had a long acquaintanceship with them.\u201d\nHe was a settler, and for five years a colonial magistrate in constant\ncontact with several of their tribes. His own account of his method of\ncollecting information and the substance of his book are conclusive as\nto his painstaking researches; and Professor Boas himself elsewhere\nbears testimony to his trustworthiness.[12.1] Moreover, a comparison\nof the quotations renders it clear that on the whole they confirm one\nanother. Probably, however, Professor Boas\u2019 criticism is intended to\napply not so much to Sproat\u2019s statements as to the use made of them by\nHerbert Spencer and other theorists. It comes to this, therefore, that\nthe Nootka\u2019s mental capacity is considerable, his mind is alert and\nactive on subjects that interest him, but that he is not interested in\nmany of those on which an anthropologist desires to learn, and hence\nhe speedily becomes \u201cbored\u201d and answers at random.\n\nThe horizon of savage interests among the neighbouring Dene or Ten\u2019a\nof the Yukon Valley is thus defined by an experienced missionary: \u201cThe\nactivity of their minds is commonly confined within a narrow circle,\nas is evidenced by their favourite subjects of conversation. Food,\nhunting and fishing, with their attendant circumstances, family\nhappenings, health and disease, devils and their actions, sexual\npropensities--such are the topics which practically sum up the\nencyclop\u00e6dia of their conversation.\u201d \u201cThe {13} Ten\u2019a mind,\u201d he says\nin another place, \u201cis anything but speculative, and its imaginative\npowers have not been turned to building theories of its belief, but\nrather to excogitate a variety of ways whereby this belief\nperseveringly asserts itself.\u201d The native\u2019s \u201cdogmas are very nebulous\nand undefined, and he has never heard them explicitly formulated, nor\neven attempted to state them distinctly to himself.\u201d Consequently,\n\u201cwhereas there is a certain uniformity in the practices, and an\noverabundance of them, there are very few points of belief common to\nseveral individuals, and these are of the vaguest kind.\u201d[13.1]\n\nIf we turn to an entirely different race, the same features present\nthemselves. The capacity of the Bantu peoples of the Lower Congo for\nthe intellectual acts of perception, recognition, memory, and so\nforth, is well developed and appears early in childhood. \u201cIn this\nrespect the natives are much on a par with the civilized races; but\nthe limit is reached early in life, and but little mental progress is\nobservable after adolescence is reached. The ideas are mostly of the\nsimpler forms, seldom passing the concretes of actual experience,\ngeneralizations being as a rule beyond their power. Association of\nideas, though good as implied by good memory, only takes place in the\nconcrete form of contiguity in time and space as actually already\nperceived; analogies are confined to the crudest forms, and a very\nsimple figure of speech is apt to be unintelligible.\u2026 The\nfundamental act of intelligence, the intuition of likeness and\nunlikeness, is very circumscribed; and high acts of intellect are\nthereby negatived.\u2026 An accompanying trait is the absence of rational\nsurprise. On seeing something new a vacant wonder is all that is\nobservable; and this is very transient, and the {14} new experience is\nclassified as \u2018white man\u2019s fashion.\u2019 It almost follows as a matter of\ncourse that there is no curiosity, no wish to enquire into the cause\nof a novel experience; it never occurs to the native that there is a\ncause of the novelty or an explanation required. In like manner there\nis almost total absence of theorizing about natural phenomena.\u201d In\nfact, the relation of cause and effect in all but the most patent and\nmechanical cases is said to be beyond his grasp.[14.1] In general\nterms this description may stand for all the Bantu, due allowance\nbeing made, as pointed out above, for individual and tribal\ndifferences.\n\nThe natural result is vagueness on all religious and metaphysical\nsubjects. This is a characteristic of savages all over the world. Nor\nis it limited by any means to them. Recent investigations have\nestablished the evolution of some at least of the majestic figures of\nthe Olympian Pantheon from not merely rude but vague and nameless\npersonalities; and to the very end of Hellenic religion, unknown gods\nand dim, indefinite heroes continued to be honoured not merely in\nevery country place, but in Athens herself. The Arabs of Moab have\nprofessed for many generations the religion of the Prophet. Yet they\nhave the feeblest apprehension of that great Allah in whom they are\nsupposed to believe. When questioned on his nature, his abode, his\noccupation, they usually answer: \u201cWe do not know.\u201d One of them told a\nmissionary: \u201cIt is said that Allah is like an old man with a white\nbeard, but I do not know where he dwells; it is asserted that he is\nabove,\u201d pointing to the sky. They also honour numerous beings called\nby the generic name of _Wely_ (protector or friend), who are\nidentified with rocks, trees, and other holy places. Even of these,\nhowever, {15} their ideas are obscure. Like the local hero of the\nGreeks, the _Wely_ is not as a rule individualized with a personal\nname. Who he is in most cases is unknown. His exact connection with\nthe spot where he is honoured is equally unknown. Some Arabs say that\nit is he who gives vigour to the sacred tree; others declare that he\ndwells beneath it, or that he dwells in the branches and the leaves;\nbut Allah knows.[15.1] And the pious reference to Allah and his\nknowledge is sufficient for the Arab.\n\nThe fact is that on these subjects the majority of the human race,\nwhether savage or civilized, think little. Their minds are seldom\nexcited to the point of reasoning on their beliefs. They accept what\nthey are told, and do not even know whether they believe it or not,\nbecause they have never reflected upon it. One has only to talk for a\nfew minutes to a peasant at home to find out how narrow the border of\nhis knowledge is, how misty and uncertain is everything beyond the\nroutine of his daily life and the village gossip and amusements,\nunless where in the neighbourhood of a town the supreme interests of\nfootball open to him a prospect into another world. Gossip,\namusements, his daily bread are subjects of importance; they fill his\nhorizon; on them his views are perfectly definite. Nor does he differ\nin this respect from people who are looked upon as his social\nsuperiors. It would be making too strenuous a demand upon their\nintellectual life to expect them to rise above the markets, the\nnewspaper, the latest novel, the county cricket-score, and the\nproblems of golf and bridge. All the rest they are content to leave to\ntheir professional advisers, who in nine cases out of ten, if the\ntruth must be told, have as little taste or capacity as themselves for\nmetaphysical speculation, historical research or theological enquiry,\nand {16} are bound as tightly in the cords of tradition as the far\nmore imaginative Zulu medicine-man, or the Eskimo wizard. For the\naverage man in civilization appraises the subjects of thought no\notherwise than does his brother in savagery. Each alike is eminently\npractical. Something done, or to be done, by himself or others is what\ninterests him. Some personal gain, some bodily pleasure--for this he\nwill think and think hard; all other mental exertion must be easy and\nshort. Nor could the human race exist on any other terms.\n\nStill further difficulties beset the enquirer into the beliefs of the\nlower culture. On the threshold is that of language. To be sure that\nyou have grasped the real meaning of your savage friend you must be\nable to talk his language as he talks it himself--and even then you\nmay be mistaken. \u201cWhen there is no certain medium of communication,\u201d\nsays Bishop Codrington, writing of the Melanesians, \u201cwhen a native\ninterpreter who speaks a little broken English is employed to ask\nquestions and to return the answers, nothing can be depended on as\ncertain which is received. To be able to use some European word, or\nword supposed to be English, to describe a native practice or to\nconvey a native belief, is to have an easy means of giving\ninformation; and so among the islands \u2018plenty devil\u2019 is the\ndescription given of a sacred spot, and \u2018_tevoro_\u2019 (devil) in Fiji has\nbecome the common appellation of the native ghosts or spirits.\nSupposing, again, that the enquirer is able to communicate pretty\nfreely on ordinary subjects in the language of any island, he will\nsurely find himself baffled when any one of the elder people\nundertakes to give him information. The vocabulary of ordinary life is\nalmost useless when the region of mysteries and superstitions is\napproached.\u201d[16.1]\n\n{17}\n\nThe use of the word \u201cdevil,\u201d universal in and around Melanesia when\nspeaking in pigeon English of the native mysteries and the objects of\nthe native cult or fear, illustrates one of the pitfalls in the path\nof the anthropologist. The native ideas do not coincide with ours. The\nhistory, the environment, the social and intellectual condition of\npeoples in the lower culture are as diverse from ours as their\ngeographical situation. Consequently their speech contains no\nequivalent for many of our words, even of words that seem to us to\nconvey ideas elementary and simple. No Australian language possesses a\nword which is the exact equivalent of our word \u201cmother.\u201d The word we\nroughly equate with \u201cmother\u201d includes a host of other women beside her\nwho has given birth to the child. Some of these women we should\ndesignate as \u201caunt,\u201d or as \u201cstepmother\u201d; but many of them stand in no\nrelation of kinship according to our reckoning. Yet they are all\naddressed and spoken of by the same term as the veritable mother.\nKinship, in fact, is counted in the lower culture along lines quite\ndifferent from ours; and though it is probable that our degrees of\nkindred have evolved from a rudimentary condition similar to that\nwhich we find among savages, we have so far outgrown it that their\nreckoning is often unintelligible to us, and only a very few of the\nterms in use among European nations remain to point back to an earlier\nstage of development. If we have this difficulty in finding\nequivalents for terms expressive of the simplest relationships of our\nsocial life, how much greater must be our difficulty when we come to\nterms expressive of the mysterious and supersensual relations of man\nto the unknown and dimly conceived powers of the universe about him!\nWe have no word to render the Fijian _mana_, the Siouan _wakan_, the\nMalagasy _andria-manitra_. {18} Conversely, scarce a savage language\ncan render our word \u201cGod.\u201d Over and over again missionaries have\nsought, and sought in vain, for a native word for the purpose. When\nthey have fixed upon one, as often as not they have had to confess a\nblunder; and many times in despair they have invented a word. The idea\nembodied in the acts by which the mysterious relations between man and\nthe supernatural are emphasized and knit together is equally incapable\nof translation by any one vocable. A Roman Catholic missionary,\nspeaking of the religious assembly of the Creeks of North America,\nsays: \u201cThe _mitewewin_ represents the highest expression of magic\n(_maeghiw_ or _maskikiy_) among the nations of the Algonkian stock.\nThe word, in fact, signifies at the same time labour, occupation,\njudgement, adoration, and sacrifice. It is a religious act addressed\nto the _powakans_, or animal fetishes, and a sort of Illinoian\nfreemasonry requiring initiation and inviolable secrecy; it is a\ncamp-meeting\u2026; it is the grand council of an entire nation.\u201d[18.1]\nThese sentences afford an excellent example of the difficulty of\ntranslating the native ideas into English words. They unite a brave\nand more or less successful attempt to convey the notion of\n_mitewewin_, with incidental but none the less certain failures in the\ncases of _maeghiw_ or _maskikiy_ and _powakan_. For none of them would\na single English word, or even a phrase, be adequate.\n\nThe opportunity of blundering in the endeavour to understand and\nreport the beliefs and usages of the lower races is obviously as great\nas could be desired. When to the various causes enumerated above is\nadded not merely the conscious want of sympathy on the part of the\nobserver, but his unconscious prejudice in favour of {19} certain\ninterpretations derived from the civilized and the specifically\nChristian notions in which he has been brought up from his youth, the\nwonder is not that so many mistakes have been made, but that we have\non the whole succeeded in obtaining so large a mass of fairly\ntrustworthy information. Even that of which we are the best assured,\nhowever, must be used with caution. It must be criticized, checked\nwith other accounts of the same or neighbouring tribes; and allowance\nmust be made for the personal equation of the observer. The use of a\nword like _worship_, _spirit_, or _God_, which connotes to us very\ndifferent ideas from those connoted to the native mind by the native\nword thus translated, must put us at once on our guard. Fancied\nresemblances between the myths, heard perhaps at second-hand and only\nhalf-understood, and some story, Biblical or other, known to the\nreporter, and the expectation of finding in savage tradition some\nfragment of divine revelation have proved real Will-o\u2019-the-wisps to\nthe unwary. Nor must we forget that things actually seen are also\nliable to be misinterpreted. Captain John Smith, in writing of\nVirginia, describes as a human sacrifice--a sacrifice of\nchildren--what seems to have been no more than the ceremony of\ninitiation into manhood.[19.1] It is true that his account was\nwritten three hundred years ago, and that he was not allowed to\nwitness the whole performance. But after all our subsequent experience\nand accumulation of records, nothing is harder even yet than to\ndetermine the meaning of ceremonies and institutions, often carefully\nexamined and minutely described by skilled eyewitnesses and scientific\nexplorers.\n\nWe may go further still. Where the observer puts aside his prejudices,\nwhere he is animated by true sympathy--not {20} the false and mawkish\nsympathy that too often takes its place--where he is able to\ncommunicate with the natives in their own tongue, there is\nnotwithstanding very often a difficulty in following their ideas. We\nhave been told of the Andaman Islanders that \u201cwith these, as with\nother savages, it is vain to expect them to understand the logical\nconclusions to which their beliefs tend.\u201d[20.1] That may be because\nthey have never thought them out. In the majority of cases it would\nprobably be juster to say that their logic follows a different course,\ntheir ideas run in different channels, from ours. After conceding\neverything that has been said with perfect truth as to their\nvagueness, their indolence of mind on subjects not concerned with\ntheir daily life, and their dislike of intellectual effort, there\nremains the fact that they are human; they do reason, albeit after\ntheir own fashion. Language among the higher races has been trained\nand tortured during many centuries to express the highest thoughts of\nthe highest thinkers; and how inadequate an instrument has it often\nbeen found! It must therefore not surprise us if the thought of races\nin the lower culture occasionally surpasses a language not yet\nexercised and adapted to the complicated processes of ideation and\nratiocination. Thus not merely is it difficult or impossible to\ntranslate native words by English equivalents, as I have already\npointed out: the native finds it not easy to translate his thoughts\ninto his own tongue. When he has struggled with more or less success\nto effect this, his course of thought is so widely different from ours\nthat we can hardly believe in its coherence.\n\nThe objects of thought, alike among savages and among ourselves, fall\ninto categories. Many of these categories manifest themselves in the\nvery fibre of language. A {21} familiar illustration is the curious\ndistinctions of grammatical gender, so different even in different\nlanguages sprung from a common stock, and those comparatively simple,\nas are the Aryan tongues of civilization. When we refer to the\nlanguages of the lower culture, with their minute distinctions of\nnumber and person, of action, tense, and all sorts of relations of\ntime and place, we are overwhelmed by their complexity and puzzled by\nthe oddness of their grouping. Categories of another kind become\nvisible when we attempt to push our explorations further into savage\nthought. The counting of kinship and the difficulties attending the\nattempt to translate words expressive of religious ideas have already\nbeen mentioned. In the totemism of Australia the totems are classes of\nanimals or other objects not merely united by some mystic bond to one\nor other class of tribesmen; they are related to other objects of\nhuman environment in such a way that the whole universe is shared\namong them. To us these relationships are strange and inexplicable;\nthey form categories that we do not understand. To the native these\ncategories are familiar by immemorial association; they have become\npart of the texture of his mind; and thereby they have acquired\nemotional values, from the bonds of which he can hardly deliver\nhimself. So it seems that the West African Bantu comprise their entire\nsocial system, every activity of their mental and physical life, and\nevery aspect of the external universe under a limited number of\ncategories wholly alien to our modes of thought. Hints of them are\nperhaps to be found in the various classes of Bantu nouns that have\nnot yet been fully explained by philologists. In any case the\nclassification of these nouns is probably no arbitrary association of\npurely formal significance. It is based on some archaic experience,\nwhich has grouped {22} together various objects often to us utterly\ndissimilar: the connecting links escape us.[22.1] Among other peoples\nin parts of the earth remote from one another categories have been\ndiscovered associating and dissociating acts and modes of feeling, and\napportioning their environment in unexpected ways. Such categories\nmust react on mentality to an extent that we can hardly measure. They\nform part of the traditional presuppositions of thought. They are the\nframework in which ideas are grouped. We, who have gradually\nelaborated and established through generations of increasing discovery\nand invention a habit of regarding everything from a more or less\nscientific standpoint, have acquired a series of presuppositions of an\nentirely different character. To the educated classes of Europe and\nAmerica they in their turn have become traditional. They are the\naxioms from which we argue. Every new experience must be fitted into\nthe framework thus supplied, otherwise we cannot logically interpret\nit. At the best we may make for it what has been wittily called a\nwatertight compartment. Men of the lower culture brought suddenly into\ncontact with civilization and civilized ideas experience a\ncorresponding difficulty. Missionaries are often in despair over their\nconverts\u2019 relapses. These relapses are occasioned not merely by the\ndifference of moral atmosphere, but quite as much by the intellectual\nabyss between savagery and civilization. Christianity and\nheathenism--the new and the old--are jumbled together in the convert\u2019s\nmind. His traditional modes of thought are as little changed as his\noutward environment, and the new ideas are incongruous with them. The\nresult is chaos. So the civilized enquirer into savage belief is\nconstantly brought up in what seems {23} a blind alley. He cannot find\nthe way out, not because there is not a logical issue, but because the\nlandscape is unfamiliar. He attempts to adapt the thoughts of the\nsavage, so far as he has seized them, to his own totally different\nmental framework; and they are refractory. Not until the effort is\nabandoned, and patient, unprejudiced search has discovered the true\npattern of the puzzle, will it be solved.\n\nFor it needs a considerable apprenticeship to enable the observer, in\nMiss Kingsley\u2019s phrase, to \u201cthink black,\u201d to understand the logic of\n\u201cblack\u201d thought, and accurately, or at least approximately, to\nreproduce its process and aims. When we are told, therefore, by a\nwriter whom I cited a few pages back that the relation of cause and\neffect in all but the most patent and mechanical cases is beyond the\ngrasp of the West African Bantu, that statement must be taken with\nsome qualification. It should be explained that it is the relation of\ncause and effect according to our ideas and our reasoning that is\nbeyond the native grasp, because our axioms are unknown to him; he\nreasons from quite another set of logical presuppositions. To change\nthe figure, he is a child, but a child familiar only with what we deem\na topsy-turvy world, though it is the same world from which we\nourselves emerged long ago. If we would comprehend him we must\npainfully climb down into that world again, breathe its air,\nfamiliarize ourselves with its scenes of wonder and of terror, and\nmake intimate companions of all its strange inhabitants. Thus and thus\nonly can we recover the clue that will lead us safely through the\nshadowy forests and haunted valleys and over the primeval\nmountain-tops of native thought. Then we shall find that the savage is\nnot so irrational as we have thought him, and that in his wildest\ndivergence from our {24} methods of reasoning he has a method of his\nown--a method followed once upon a time by our own ancestors, a method\nfrom which the peasantry of many a European country is not yet wholly\nemancipated.\n\nThis is to \u201cthink black.\u201d It is not everybody who can do it: it\nrequires more sympathy and insight than are given to all men. Above\nall, it requires patience, long and close contact with the native, and\nthe persistent and self-abandoning endeavour to penetrate his\nthoughts. Some missionaries have achieved it, some travellers, some\ntraders, some colonists, some government officials. Too many of them,\nalas! have only skimmed the surface of the native mind. Even the\nlatter, however, though they have failed to read the underlying\nmeaning of what they saw, have sometimes taught us what to look for.\nTo that extent the modern school of anthropology is founded on their\nobservations. The training now given in anthropology at the\nuniversities and elsewhere utilizes and criticizes the reports of all\nobservers, as well as the conclusions drawn from them by\nanthropologists at home. That training is of material assistance in\nfitting new labourers out for fresh fields of enquiry, or for working\nover again those fields which have been hitherto imperfectly reaped by\nill-equipped enquirers. In some measure it supplies the place of\nlonger preliminary intercourse with the man of lower culture; and it\nhas the advantage that it teaches the student what kind of phenomenon\nto expect--an advantage perhaps not unaccompanied by dangers of its\nown.\n\nBe that as it may, the information of all kinds, good, bad, and\nindifferent, already at our service on the subject of the religions of\nthe lower culture has been and is still being subjected to ruthless\ncomparison and criticism. The result of this constant sifting is to\nput us in {25} possession of a considerable body of material for a\nsane judgement in regard to some of the beliefs of tribes in various\nparts of the world and to help us forward on the track of others. We\nno longer summarily deny the possession of religion to tribes whose\npractices we do not understand. We no longer attempt to docket beliefs\nimperfectly apprehended under headings applicable only to the highly\ndeveloped and literary theology of Europe. We lie under a more\ninsidious temptation--that of the too rapid generalization of the\nbeliefs of the lower culture, for which the groundwork may not as yet\nexist. But we are learning the lesson that only by unwearied\ninvestigation, diligent observation, sympathetic enquiry without\nprepossession, can we attain to a real grasp of the protean ideas and\nhalf-formulated speculations of savage minds.\n\n\n\n\n THE RELATIONS OF RELIGION\n AND MAGIC\n\n{26}\n\n I. The Common Root\n\nThus forewarned of the difficulties and dangers of our path, let us\nproceed to enquire whether there are any general ideas relating to\nreligion disseminated among men in the lower stages of culture, that\neither are themselves primitive, or can have been derived from an\nearlier condition of thought discoverable by us.\n\nThe religious practices of savage and barbarous peoples are largely\nbased upon ideas which anthropologists have agreed to group together\nunder the comprehensive title of animism. Animism is, to quote Sir\nEdward Tylor, who was the first to investigate the subject and to use\nthe word in this sense, \u201cthe groundwork of the philosophy of religion,\nfrom that of savages up to that of civilized man.\u201d[26.1] As he uses\nthe word, it expresses the doctrine which attributes a living and\noften a separable soul--a soul in any case distinct from the\nbody--alike to human beings, to the lower animals and plants, and even\nto inanimate objects. Let us note, however, that this soul is not\nnecessarily immaterial. The refined conception of the soul, which we\nhave received from the Greek philosophers, belongs not to the savage.\nTo him, as to the average man of civilization, the notion of an\nabsolutely immaterial being would seem to be unthinkable. At all {27}\nevents it has hardly occurred to him. The soul, to him, may be thin as\na vapour, oftentimes invisible as the air; at other times it takes a\nvisible and even tangible form. So far as it is connected with what we\nknow as a living body, the ordinary, familiar form and substance, it\nis the principle of life. But it is capable of existing independently\nof the body, at least for a time. The body, on the other hand, is also\ncapable of continuing to exist, and even to live, though not in full\nhealth and vigour, for a time without the soul; but a lengthened\nseparation usually means death. This, without taking account of\ndetails varying from culture to culture and people to people, may be\ndescribed as the outline of the savage doctrine of the soul, reduced\nas nearly as may be into the terms in which we think. Beyond this, and\nprobably as a development of it, is the belief in spirits, beings\nfrequently vague and shadowy, sometimes regarded as more substantial,\nsometimes inhabiting objects and persons known and definite, at other\ntimes unattached, but in all cases of more or less power, which may be\nexercised to the advantage or to the detriment of their human fellows,\nor perhaps subordinates. The distinction between spirits and gods is\nnot very easy to formulate, and need not for our present purpose\ntrouble us.\n\nAnimism thus conceived is, it is obvious, too complex and elaborate to\nbe really primitive. It appears to be itself derived from a simpler\nand earlier conception, whereby man attributes to all the objects of\nexternal nature life and personality. In other words, the external\nworld is first interpreted by the savage thinker in the terms of his\nown consciousness; animism, or the distinction of soul and body, is a\ndevelopment necessitated by subsequent observation and the train of\nreasoning which that observation awakens.\n\n{28}\n\nPrimitive man is so far away from us, not merely in time but in\nthought, that we find it difficult to imagine his attempts to grapple\nwith the interpretation of external phenomena. What waves of desire,\nof curiosity, of wonder, of awe, of terror, of hope, of bewilderment\nmust have rolled through the sluggish dawn of his intellect! As he\nstruggled in his little communities (tiny by comparison with ours)\nwith the evolution of speech, how did those various and perhaps\nill-defined emotions come to utterance? He was not naturally\nspeculative. Savage man even now is not, as a rule, speculative,\nthough, as we have seen in the preceding essay, observers who have had\nopportunities of comparison have noted differences in this respect\nbetween one people and another. Everything primitive man saw,\neverything he heard or felt must have struck his mind primarily in\nrelation to himself--or rather to the community (the food-group, as it\nhas been called), of which the individual formed a part, to its\ndangers and its needs. The personal element would dominate his\nthoughts, and must have found expression in his words. As a matter of\nfact, it forms everywhere the basis of language. Hence it was\nimpossible for man to interpret external phenomena in any other than\npersonal terms. This necessity may have been an inheritance from a\npre-human stage, since there is reason to think that the lower animals\nproject their own sensations to other animals, and even to objects\nwithout life. Yet to fix the objective personalities that primitive\nman thought he saw and felt about him must have taken time and\nobservation. Not all objects claimed his attention in the same degree\nor with the same insistence. Some would stand out aggressively, would\nfill him with a sense of power manifested in ways that seemed\nanalogous with his own. Others would long remain comparatively\nunregarded, {29} until something happened which aroused his interest.\nHis attitude was first of all and intensely practical, not\ncontemplative. His fellow-men, the animals he hunted, the trees whose\nbranches he saw waving in the breeze, the sun and moon overhead going\ntheir daily rounds--to all these he would early attach significance:\nthey would easily yield the personal quality. But what of the pools,\nthe hills, the rocks, and so forth? There must have been many things\nthat long abode in the twilight of perception--many things upon which\nreflection was not yet concentrated. The North American Indian lays a\ntribute of tobacco at the foot of any strange rock whose form strikes\nhim as he goes by, or strews his gift upon the waters of the lake or\nstream that bears his canoe. On the top of every pass in the\nCordilleras of South America and of every pass in the mountains of\nChina the native leaves a token still more trivial. It may be that his\nearliest forefather, who set the example of such an offering, did so\nwithout any definite conception of a personality behind the\nphenomenon, but, smitten by fear or awe, simply sought, by the means\nfamiliar to him in the case of known personal beings, to conciliate\nwhatever power might lurk beneath an unwonted form. And although a\ncomparatively definite conception of a personality might in time\ncrystallize, to be transformed later by the evolution of animism into\nthe idea of a spirit, yet there must always have remained, after all\nthese crystallizations, the vague and formless Unknown, confronted in\nall its more prominent manifestations through the medium of an\nundefined dread of power which might at any time be revealed from it.\n\nIn this relation of the personal and the impersonal lies, as it seems\nto me, the secret of primitive philosophy, if philosophy it may be\ncalled, all un-selfconscious as {30} it must have been. There is no\nwritten record of man\u2019s earliest guesses at the meaning of the\nuniverse. Whatever they were, they were limited to his immediate\nsurroundings and the relation of these surroundings to himself. We\nmust judge of them as they are represented in the beliefs and actions\nof modern, or at all events much later, savages and in those of great\nhistoric nations. For all scientific enquirers are agreed that the\nhistory of the human mind has been that of a slow evolution from\nsomething lower than the lowest savagery known to-day, that it has not\neverywhere evolved in the same way or to the same degree, and that the\ncourse it has taken has left traces, discoverable by close inspection,\nupon every mental product and in every civilization throughout the\nworld. The testimony on which we have to rely in the investigation is\nof the most various value, and often most difficult of interpretation.\nIts difficulties and defects have already been touched upon; nor do I\npropose further to consider them now. The minute examination and\nrelentless criticism to which it has been subjected have revealed its\nweakness; they have also revealed its strength. They have left a solid\nbody of evidence from which we may cautiously but confidently reason.\nWhat can we learn from it on the point under discussion?\n\nThe first thing to be noticed is the fluidity of the savage concept of\npersonality. It is not confined within the bounds of one stable and\nrelatively unchangeable body. You may quite easily be transformed,\nlike the hero of Apuleius\u2019 tale, into an ass. Your next-door\nneighbour, for whom you have the profoundest respect as a prosperous\nman of business and a churchwarden of exemplary piety, may startle you\nsome morning with a sudden change into a noisy little street-arab, not\na tenth {31} of his own portly dimensions, turning a wheel all down\nhis garden path, or into a melancholy cow cropping a bare pittance of\ngrass from his closely trimmed lawn. He and his magnificent wife may\neven become, like Philemon and Baucis, an oak and a lime-tree before\nyour eyes, or a pair of standing stones upon the moor. None of these\nmetamorphoses would be accounted impossible by peoples in the lower\nculture. To them the essential incident of the tale of Dr Jekyll and\nMr Hyde would be mere commonplace. The personality which they have\nknown running in one mould can, in their opinion, be directed into,\nand will run as freely in, another mould, and yet be the same. So hard\ndo such archaic beliefs die, that in remote parts of our own country\nit is still firmly believed that a witch may assume the form of a\nhare, and if any bold sportsman succeed in wounding the animal, the\ninjury will afterwards be found on the witch\u2019s proper person,\ntestifying beyond dispute to the preservation of her individuality\nunder the temporary change of shape and species.\n\nShape-shifting, as it is called, may even take place by means of death\nand a new birth without loss of identity. Miss Kingsley tells us that\nin West Africa \u201cthe new babies as they arrive in the family are shown\na selection of small articles belonging to deceased members whose\nsouls are still absent: the thing the child catches hold of identifies\nhim. \u2018Why, he\u2019s Uncle John; see! he knows his own pipe\u2019; or \u2018That\u2019s\nCousin Emma; see! she knows her market calabash,\u2019 and so on.\u201d[31.1]\nThis belief and corresponding practices are found over a large part of\nthe world. Nor is it necessary that the deceased should be born again\nin human form, or even of the same sex. A group of tribes in Central\nAustralia {32} have elaborated the doctrine of re-birth to an unusual\ndegree. Two of the tribes, the Warramunga and Urabunna, definitely\nhold, if we may trust our authorities, that the sex changes with each\nsuccessive birth.[32.1] A Mongolian tale relates that a certain\nKhotogait prince, having been beheaded for conspiracy against the\nChinese Emperor, twice reappeared as a child of the Empress, and was\nidentified by the cicatrice on his neck. Both children were destroyed,\nand he was then born as a hairless bay mare, whose hide is still\npreserved.[32.2] In the same way, fish, fruit, worms, stones, any\nobject indeed, may, if it can once (no matter how) enter the body of\na woman, be born again and become human. As developed by animism, the\ndoctrine of a new birth has become what we know as that of the\nTransmigration of Souls, which has played a part in more religions and\nmore philosophies than one.[32.3]\n\nMoreover, detached portions of the person, as locks of hair, parings\nof finger-nails, and so forth, are not dead inert matter. They are\nstill endued with the life of their original owner. Nay, garments once\nworn, or other objects which have been in intimate contact with a\nhuman being, are penetrated by his personality, remain as it were\nunited with him for good and ill. It would be no exaggeration to say\nof this belief that it is universal. Upon it rests much of the\npractice of witchcraft, as well as of the medicine of the lower\nculture. The cleft ash through which a child has been drawn for the\ncure of infantile hernia, bound up and allowed to grow together,\ncontinues to sympathize with him in health and sickness {33} as though\npart of his own body. In ancient Greece maidens on their marriage\noffered their veils to Hera, the goddess who favoured marriage and\naided childbirth;[33.1] and Athenian women who became pregnant for\nthe first time used to hang up their girdles in the temple of Artemis.\nThese customs were not mere acts of homage; they had a practical\nintention.\n\nSome votive offerings may perhaps be interpreted as surrogates of\nhuman sacrifice. Others, made when the votary is suffering from\nsickness, may be intended to transfer the disease. These explanations\nare in many cases very questionable; and a large number of offerings\nremain that do not easily submit to be thus explained. The Greek women\njust mentioned had no disease to be returned to the custody of the\ngoddess, ready for another victim. In view of future contingencies\nthey placed in her care objects identified with themselves; they\nbrought into physical touch with her a portion of their own\npersonality. Convergence of more than one rite, similar in outward\nform but distinct in origin, has doubtless occurred very often in\nhuman history. But the ambiguity which would follow is not always to\nbe traced on a careful analysis. It is obvious, at all events, that if\nan article of my clothing in a witch\u2019s hands may cause me to suffer\nand die, the same article in contact with a beneficent power may\nrelieve my pain, restore me to health, or promote my general\nprosperity. My shirt or stocking, or a shred from it, placed upon a\nsacred bush, or thrust into a sacred well--a lock of my hair laid upon\na sacred image--my name written upon the walls of a temple--a stone\nfrom my hand cast upon a sacred cairn--a remnant of my food thrown\ninto a sacred waterfall or suspended from a sacred tree--a nail {34}\ndriven by my hand into the trunk of a tree--is thenceforth in\nimmediate contact with divinity. It is a portion of my personality\nenveloped with the sanctity of the divine being; and so long as it\nremains there I am myself in contact with the same divine being,\nwhoever he may be, and derive all the advantages incident to the\ncontact.\n\nSuch beliefs as these are world-wide; they are a commonplace of\nanthropology; and it would be waste of time to multiply examples. They\nexhibit a concept of personality imperfectly crystallized. It is still\nfluid and vague, only to become entirely definite under the influence\nof trained reason and larger and more scientific knowledge. But, such\nas it is, there is behind and around it the still vaguer, the\nunlimited territory of the Impersonal, because the Unknown. Every\nobject on which the attention has been fixed, every object, therefore,\nthat may be said to be known, has its own personality--every object,\nwhether living, or, according to our ideas, not-living. What remains\nis the stuff out of which personalities are formed as it is gradually\nreduced into relations with the savage observer. These personalities\ndo not necessarily correspond even to anything objective. They may be\ncreations of the excited imagination. It is sufficient for the savage\nthat they seem to be, and to have a relation to himself which he\ncannot otherwise interpret. His emancipation from this state of mind\nis slow, though among some peoples in the lower culture it is more\nperceptible than among others. But it leaves its traces\neverywhere--there, most of all, where emotion is most acute and\npermanent, where hopes and fears are most overwhelming, in the sphere\nof religion.\n\nNow every personality is endowed with qualities which enable it to\npersist, to influence others, and even to {35} overcome, subjugate,\nand destroy them for its own ends. No more than ourselves could the\nprimeval savage avoid being influenced and often overmatched by the\ncharm and wiles of woman, the wisdom of the elders of his horde, the\ndauntless might of the warrior. The non-human personalities with which\nhe came in contact possessed qualities not less remarkable than those\nof the human. The strength, the fierceness, the agility of the lion,\nthe speed of the antelope, the cunning of the fox, the lofty forms and\nendurance of the forest trees, their response to every breath of wind,\nand the kindly shelter they yielded to birds and beasts and men, the\nfantastic forms and stern patience of the rocks, the smooth and\nsmiling treachery of the lake, the gentle murmur and benign largess of\nthe river, the splendour, the burning heat of the sun, the\nchangeableness and movement of the clouds are a few of the more\nobvious qualities attached to the myriad personalities with which men\nfound themselves environed. These personalities and their qualities\nwould impress them all the more because of the mystery that\nperpetually masked them. Mystery magnified them. Hence every non-human\npersonality was apt to be conceived in larger than human terms, and\nits qualities were larger than human.\n\nI do not pause here to adduce illustrations of this attitude towards\nthe objects surrounding mankind. In any event it would of course be\nimpossible to illustrate it from prehistoric, not to say primeval,\nages. It is characteristic of modern savages wherever an intimate\nacquaintance enables the civilized observer to penetrate into their\n_arcana_. Some of them have got no further; others have advanced to\nthe full stage of animism. Reference may be made to any work in which\nthe life and ideas of a savage tribe are depicted.\n\n{36}\n\nNot merely was every personality, human and other, endowed with\nqualities, but by virtue of those qualities it possessed a\npotentiality and an atmosphere of its own. The successful warrior and\nhuntsman by more than his successes, by his confidence and his brag,\nhis readiness to quarrel and his vindictiveness, or the many-wintered\nelder, wise and slow to wrath, experienced in war and forestry, of\nfar-reaching purpose and subtle in execution, would be enshrined in a\nbelief in his powers, surrounded with a halo of which we still see a\ndim, a very dim, reflection in the touching regard entertained for a\npolitical leader or the worship paid to an ecclesiastical dignitary.\nNor would this atmosphere surround only important or successful men.\nEveryone is conscious of powers of some sort, and everyone would\nattribute to others capabilities larger or smaller. Some would possess\nin their own consciousness and in the eyes of their fellows a very\nsmall modicum of power for good or evil. The mere glance or voice of\nothers would inspire terror or confidence. This potentiality, this\natmosphere would often cling with greater intensity to non-human\nbeings, objective or imaginary. The snake, the bird, the elephant, the\nsun, the invisible wind, the unknown wielder of the lightning, would\nbe richly endowed. None, human or non-human, would (in theory, at\nleast) be wholly without it.\n\nThe Iroquoian tribes of North America possess a word which exactly\nexpresses this potentiality, this atmosphere, which they believe\ninheres in and surrounds every personality. They call it _orenda_. A\nfine hunter is one whose _orenda_ is fine, superior in quality. When\nhe is successful he is said to baffle or thwart the _orenda_ of the\nquarry; when unsuccessful, the game is said to have foiled or\noutmatched his _orenda_. A person who defeats {37} another in a game\nof skill or chance is said to overcome his _orenda_. \u201cAt public games\nor contests of skill or endurance, or of swiftness of foot, where clan\nis pitted against clan, phratry against phratry, tribe against tribe,\nor nation against nation, the _shamans_--men reputed to possess\npowerful _orenda_--are employed for hire by the opposing parties\nrespectively to exercise their _orenda_ to thwart or overcome that of\ntheir antagonists,\u201d and thus secure victory. So, when a storm is\nbrewing, it (the storm-maker) is said to be preparing its _orenda_;\nwhen it is ready to burst, it has finished, has prepared its _orenda_.\nSimilar expressions are used for a man or one of the lower animals\nwhen in a rage. A prophet or soothsayer is one who habitually puts\nforth his _orenda_, and has thereby learned the secrets of the future.\nThe _orenda_ of shy birds and other animals which it is difficult to\nensnare or kill is said to be acute or sensitive--that is, in\ndetecting the presence of the hunter, whether man or beast. Anything\nreputed to have been instrumental in obtaining some good or\naccomplishing some end is said to possess _orenda_. Of one who, it is\nbelieved, has died from witchcraft it is said, \u201cAn evil _orenda_ has\nstruck him.\u201d[37.1]\n\nAmong the Algonkian and Siouan tribes are found beliefs that seem to\ngo behind this personal but mystic potentiality to its source in the\nUnknown, the Impersonal. The Algonkian word expressive of the idea is\n_manitou_. The early French missionaries, who were the first to make\nit known to us, interpreted it of a personal being--God or the Devil,\nthey hardly knew which. They were reading into it their own more\nhighly crystallized beliefs. As in the case of _orenda_, we are\nfortunate in having the term more accurately defined for us by a\ndescendant {38} of the native tribes, who may be presumed to have been\nbetter equipped by inheritance and early associations to understand\nAlgonkian thought than the Jesuit Fathers were. \u201cThe Algonkin\nconception of the manitou,\u201d he tells us, \u201cis bound up with the\nmanifold ideas that flow from an unconscious relation with the outside\nworld.\u2026 The term _manitou_ is a religious word; it carries with it\nthe idea of solemnity; and whatever the association it always\nexpresses a serious attitude, and kindles an emotional sense of\nmystery.\u2026 The essential character of Algonkin religion is a pure,\nna\u00efve worship of nature. In one way or another associations cluster\nabout an object and give it a certain potential value; and because of\nthis supposed potentiality the object becomes the recipient of an\nadoration. The degree of the adoration depends in some measure upon\nthe extent of confidence reposed in the object, and upon its supposed\npower of bringing pleasure or inflicting pain. The important thing\nwith the individual is the emotional effect experienced while in the\npresence of the object, or with an interpreted manifestation of the\nobject. The individual keeps watch for the effect, and it is the\neffect that fills the mind with a vague sense of something strange,\nsomething mysterious, something intangible. One feels it as the result\nof an active substance, and one\u2019s attitude toward it is purely\npassive. To experience a thrill is authority enough of the existence\nof the substance. The sentiment of its reality is made known by the\nfact that something has happened. It is futile to ask an Algonkin for\nan articulate definition of the substance, partly because it would be\nsomething about which he does not concern himself, and partly because\nhe is quite satisfied with only the sentiment of its existence. He\nfeels that the property is everywhere, is omnipresent. The feeling\nthat it is {39} omnipresent leads naturally to the belief that it\nenters into everything in nature; and the notion that it is active\ncauses the mind to look everywhere for its manifestations. These\nmanifestations assume various forms; they vary with individuals and\nwith reference to the same and different objects.\n\n\u201cLanguage affords means of approaching nearer to a definition of this\nreligious sentiment. In the Algonkin dialects of the Sauk, Fox, and\nKickapoo, a rigid distinction of gender is made between things with\nlife and things without life.\u2026 Accordingly, when they refer to the\nmanitou in the sense of a virtue, a property, an abstraction, they\nemploy the form expressive of inanimate gender. When the manitou\nbecomes associated with an object, then the gender becomes less\ndefinite.\u2026\n\n\u201cWhen the property becomes the indwelling element of an object, then\nit is natural to identify the property with animate being. It is not\nnecessary that the being shall be the tangible representative of a\nnatural object.\u201d This the writer illustrates from the account given by\na Fox Indian of the sweat-lodge, in the course of which he observes:\n\u201cThe manitou comes from the place of his abode in the [heated] stone,\n\u2026 when the water is sprinkled on it. It comes out in the steam, and\nin the steam it enters the body wherever it finds entrance. It moves\nup and down and all over inside the body, driving out everything that\ninflicts pain. Before the manitou returns to the stone it imparts some\nof its nature to the body. That is why one feels so well after having\nbeen in the sweat-lodge.\u201d The writer\u2019s comment on this is instructive.\n\u201cThe sentiment,\u201d he says, \u201cbehind the words rests upon the\nconsciousness of a belief in an objective presence; it rests on the\nsense of an existing reality with the quality of self-dependence; it\nrests on the perception of a definite, {40} localized personality. Yet\nat the same time there is the feeling that the apprehended reality is\nwithout form and without feature. This is the dominant notion in\nregard to the virtue abiding in the stone of the sweat-lodge; it takes\non the character of conscious personality with some attributes of\nimmanence and design.\u201d\n\nBut further, as the manitou--this mystic, all-pervasive property or\nsubstance--on investing an object acquires conscious personality, so\nalso \u201cit is natural to confuse the property\u201d--the manitou--\u201cwith an\nobject containing,\u201d or invested with, \u201cthe property.\u201d \u201cIt is no\ntrouble for an Algonkin to invest an object with the mystic substance,\nand then call the object by the name of the substance. The process\nsuggests a possible explanation of how an Algonkin comes to people his\nworld with manitou forces different in kind and degree; it explains in\nsome measure the supernatural performances of mythological beings, the\nbeings that move in the form of men, beasts, birds, fishes, and other\nobjects of nature. All these are a collection of agencies. Each\npossesses a virtue in common with all the rest, and in so far do they\nall have certain marks of agreement. Where one differs from another is\nin the nature of its function, and in the degree of the possession of\nthe cosmic substance. But the investment of a common mystic virtue\ngives them all a common name, and that name is _manitou_.\u201d\n\nThe conclusion is \u201cthat there is an unsystematic belief in a cosmic\nmysterious property which is believed to be existing everywhere in\nnature; that the conception of the property can be thought of as\nimpersonal, but that it becomes obscure and confused when the property\nbecomes identified with objects in nature; that it manifests itself in\nvarious forms; and that its emotional effect awakens a sense of\nmystery; that there is a lively {41} appreciation of its miraculous\nefficacy; and that its interpretation is not according to any regular\nrule, but is based on one\u2019s feelings rather than on one\u2019s\nknowledge.\u201d[41.1]\n\nWhatever differences an exact analysis, in accordance with the clearly\ncut methods of scientific thought, may result in discovering between\nthe concept of _manitou_ as here displayed and the Iroquoian _orenda_,\ntwo resemblances stand out prominently. _Orenda_ is, like _manitou_, a\nmystic, or magical--not a natural--quality or potentiality, which\nresides in some persons or objects in greater measure than others. And\nthe fact that it is \u201cheld to be the property of all things, all\nbodies, and by the inchoate mentation of man is regarded as the\nefficient cause of all phenomena, all the activities of his\nenvironment,\u201d[41.2] approximates the conception very closely to that\nof _manitou_.\n\nWhen we turn to the Omaha, a Siouan tribe, we find a concept hardly\ndistinguishable from that of the Algonkins. Here again we have the\nadvantage of native help. Mr Francis La Flesche, the son of a former\nchief of the tribe, is jointly responsible for an exhaustive monograph\non the Omaha with Miss Alice Fletcher, whose knowledge of this and\nneighbouring tribes is among investigators of European descent\nunrivalled. We may therefore rely upon their exposition with\nconfidence equal to that we have given to those already cited on the\nIroquois and the Algonkins. \u201cAn invisible and continuous life was\nbelieved,\u201d they tell us, \u201cto permeate all things, seen and unseen.\nThis life manifests itself in two ways: first, by causing to move--all\nmotion, all actions of mind or body are because of this invisible\nlife; second, by causing {42} permanency of structure and form, as in\nthe rock, the physical features of the landscape, mountains, plains,\nstreams, rivers, lakes, the animals and man. This invisible life was\nalso conceived of as being similar to the will-power of which man is\nconscious within himself--a power by which all things are brought to\npass. Through this mysterious life and power all things are related to\none another and to man, the seen to the unseen, the dead to the\nliving, a fragment of anything to its entirety. This invisible life\nand power was called _Wakonda_. While it was a vague entity, yet there\nwas an anthropomorphic colouring to the conception, as is shown in the\nprayers offered and the manner in which appeals for compassion and\nhelp were made, also in the ethical quality attributed to certain\nnatural phenomena--the regularity of night following day, of summer\nwinter (these were recognized as emphasizing truthfulness as a\ndependable quality and set forth for man\u2019s guidance),--and in the\napproval by Wakonda of certain ethical actions on the part of\nmankind.\u201d[42.1] \u201cThere is therefore,\u201d the writers tell us in another\nplace, \u201cno propriety in speaking of Wakonda as \u2018the Great Spirit.\u2019\nEqually improper would it be to regard the term as a synonym of\nnature, or of an objective god, a being apart from nature. It is\ndifficult to formulate the native idea expressed in this word. The\nEuropean mind demands a kind of intellectual crystallization of\nconceptions, which is not essential to the Omaha, and which, when\nattempted, is apt to modify the original meaning.\u201d But while the\nconcept appears to be vague and impersonal, inasmuch as human\nconditions were projected upon nature, \u201ccertain anthropomorphic\nattributes were ascribed to it, approximating to a kind of {43}\npersonality.\u201d Moreover, \u201cthere is a distinction in the Omaha mind\nbetween varying meanings of the word _wakonda_. The Wakonda addressed\nin the tribal prayer and in the tribal religious ceremonies which\npertain to the welfare of all the people is _the_ Wakonda that is the\npermeating life of visible nature--an invisible life and power that\nreaches everywhere and everything, and can be appealed to by man to\nsend him help. From this central idea of a permeating life comes, on\nthe one hand, the application of the word _wakonda_ to anything\nmysterious or inexplicable, be it an object or an occurrence; and, on\nthe other hand, the belief that the peculiar gifts of an animate or\ninanimate form can be transferred to man. The means by which this\ntransference takes place is mysterious and pertains to Wakonda, but is\nnot Wakonda. So the media--the shell, the pebble, the thunder, the\nanimal, the mythic monster--may be spoken of as wakondas, but they are\nnot regarded as _the_ Wakonda.\u201d[43.1]\n\nLike the Algonkian _manitou_, the Siouan _wakonda_ is thus seen to\nhover between the Personal and the Impersonal, whereas the Iroquoian\n_orenda_ clings about persons and things. Yet it is applied in an\nadjectival form by various Siouan tribes to medicine-men, to the\nsacred pipe, to the sleight-of-hand tricks performed by the\nmedicine-men or jugglers, and apparently to anyone who displays\nunusual qualities or powers. Thus it is used for a man who is\nextraordinarily stingy, to a man who has a habit of loud and rapid\nspeech, to one who is a hard, almost an unmerciful, rider, to a child\nwho speaks or walks for the first time and has thus manifested a new\nand individual power to act. A woman during her menstrual period is\n_wakan_; to perform acts of worship is to make _wakan_; the secret\nsociety among the Dakotas {44} which is the depository of their\nmysteries is _wakanwacipi_, the sacred dance. In these cases the word\nconveys the sense not only of mysterious, powerful, wonderful, but\nalso of sacred, spiritual, taboo. And a Ponka medicine-man once told\nthe late J. O. Dorsey, \u201cI am a wakanda.\u201d[44.1]\n\nEquivalent ideas and expressions are used by other American tribes.\nSupernatural power impresses the Tlingit, for example, \u201cas a vast\nimmensity, one in kind and impersonal, inscrutable as to its nature,\nbut whenever manifesting itself to men, taking a personal, and it\nmight be said a human personal, form in whatever object it displays\nitself. Thus the sky-spirit is the ocean of supernatural energy as it\nmanifests itself in the sky, the sea-spirit as it manifests itself in\nthe sea, the bear-spirit as it manifests itself in the bear, the\nrock-spirit as it manifests itself in the rock, etc. It is not meant\nthat the Tlingit consciously reasons this out thus, or formulates a\nunity in the supernatural, but such appears to be his unexpressed\nfeeling. For this reason there is but one name, _y\u0113k_, a name which\nis affixed to any specific personal manifestation of it.\u2026 This\nsupernatural energy must be carefully differentiated from natural\nenergy and never confused with it. It is true that the former is\nsupposed to bring about results similar to the latter, but in the mind\nof the Tlingit the conceived difference between these two is as great\nas with us. A rock rolling downhill or an animal running is by no\nmeans a manifestation of supernatural energy, although if something\npeculiar be associated with these actions, something outside of the\nIndian\u2019s usual experience of such phenomena, they may be thought of as\nsuch.\u201d On the other hand, and here we approach the Iroquoian idea,\n\u201cthe number of {45} spirits [_y\u0113k_] with which this world was peopled\nwas simply limitless.\u2026 There is said to have been a spirit in every\ntrail on which one travelled, and one around every fire; one was\nconnected with everything one did.\u201d The writer whom I am quoting goes\non to give a large number of instances showing that the heavenly\nbodies, the wind, the sea, mountains, lakes, trees, animals, in short,\nall things, were addressed, to conciliate them, to render them\nfriendly, to acquire some gift or advantage, were treated with\nreverence or with magical intent. And of course the medicine-men or\nshamans were the special favourites of the spirits, and were endowed\nwith power which they often matched against one another.[45.1]\n\nThus we have in these North American ideas two distinct\nconceptions--the possession of what I have called a potentiality or\natmosphere of its own by the individual personality, whether human or\nnon-human; and the impersonal, mysterious, undefined reservoir of\npower in the universe as conceived by the savage. These two\nconceptions are not mutually exclusive, for the impersonal power is\noften held to be the source of the personal power or potentiality. As\namong the American Indian tribes, so elsewhere they are differently\nemphasized by different peoples. The Bantu of the Lower Congo basin\nemphasize the impersonal conception. According to the Bafiote, the\nfirst ages of the world were ruled by Nzambi, though whether he made\neverything seems a matter of doubt. When he retired from active\ninterference in the concerns of men, he left behind, or sent, or there\nremained in the earth, Something. Indeed, it seems to be believed that\nNzambi himself, or his power, his vital and creative energy, is still\nin earth and water, in the air, in plants, animals and men. In any\ncase, the Something remaining {46} on earth since Nzambi\u2019s outward and\nvisible departure is or has _Luny\u0113nsu_. The concept of _Luny\u0113nsu_ is\nthat of natural force, vital energy, power of increase, in short, the\nAll-ruling, the Highest, that penetrates every living thing. It is not\nlife, but an activity bound up with life, its manifestation, its\ncondition. A crippled limb does not possess it, and with death it\nceases entirely, it is gone. The Something, however, which either is\nor has _Luny\u0113nsu_ is even wider than this. It is represented by\n_Bu-nssi_ (probably the older name) or _Mkissi-nssi_. The latter means\nthe supernatural or magical power of the earth, and seems to be due to\nthe later overgrowth of fetishism. The former conveys the idea of the\nforce, the energy of earth. In any case it is not to be confounded\nwith fetish-power, for it is revered as fetish-power is not, nor with\nthe earth-spirit, for the Bafiote know no elemental spirits. It must\nbe conceived as the terrestrial energy, the all-permeating creative\nforce, the all-wielding, the fertility, the becoming. Hence there is a\nsacredness attaching to the earth; and connected as the earth is with\nthe idea of fecundity and the operations of agriculture, and as it is\nan inseparable condition of life, these all form a foundation for the\nright to the soil, for hospitality and the relations of the sexes. The\nindefiniteness of _Bu-nssi_ is shown by the fact that the natives\nthemselves are not agreed whether it is one or many. In fact, in the\nuse of its synonym, _Mkissi_, the plural form--and what is\nsignificant, the plural personal form--is often heard. Opinion wavers\nas the needs or the excitement of the moment may demand, or perhaps as\ntradition wavers with changing mental environment. But those who claim\nthe older faith or the deeper insight adhere to the statement that\nthere is but one _Mkissi-nssi_, even _Bu-nssi_.\n\nThus the conception of _Bu-nssi_ roughly corresponds {47} with that of\nthe reservoir of power we have already found among the Omaha and other\ntribes. On the other hand, the Bafiote hold that everything in nature\nhas its peculiar property, everything is pervaded by forces. All\nthings influence one another by visible deeds of power or in\nsecret-wise. Hence are evolved manifold relations, among which the\nmost important for man are those that extend to his person. The effect\nof physical forces is obvious. But experience teaches that there are\nother forces that are efficacious, although the process is not always\nunderstood. Such forces as these act without immediate and perceptible\ncontact. So at least the wise men believe, and they act accordingly.\nHow it happens they do not bother their heads. It is so, and that is\nenough. If it were otherwise they could not explain the events that\nhappen. Here is, in something more than germ, the Iroquoian _orenda_.\nBut the more sensual Bafiote, whether from their own nature and social\norganization, or from the tropical environment in which they live, are\npreoccupied with the relations of the various forces thus permeating\nall things. These forces are misused. Prudence and activity, strength\nof limb and skill do not suffice; far too much evil occurs among them.\nThe Bafiote are obsessed, like all the African peoples, with the idea\nof witchcraft. They must be protected against it. Power is therefore\nmatched against power, spell against spell. If there were not\nthoroughly wicked men who sought openly or secretly to injure others,\nfetishes would hardly be needed. By the use of fetishes they seek to\nmaster the forces of which on every side they see indications, and to\nmake them their own. Fetishes are not gods. There is nothing\nspiritual, nothing independent of men, about them. They are material\nobjects, fabricated by art, so as to embody forces working by\nmysterious means for the aid {48} or injury of men. The destruction of\nthe fetish involves the annihilation of the forces it embodies,\nwhereas the existence of a god is in nowise imperilled by the\ndestruction of his image. In short, fetishes are magical instruments.\nYet such is the inveterate anthropomorphism of mankind that they do\nacquire a quasi-personal character, and tend to be thought of as\nindividual and conscious beings. But they are never worshipped; the\nFiote has no gods. He has only fetishes, the incorporation of powers\nand energies he sees acting around him everywhere. By that\nincorporation these powers and energies are appropriated for his\nbenefit, for his particular ends, or for the ends and benefit of the\nsociety of which he is a member.[48.1]\n\nSimilar ideas of mysterious force wavering between the personal and\nthe impersonal and permeating all things appear to underlie the\nChinese conceptions of the _Tsing_, or operative energy, which\ninspires, or manifests itself in, the _Khi_, breath or soul, to\nproduce the living being.[48.2] These ideas have been taken over by\nthe Annamites, among whom the _Tinh_ is \u201ca fluid, a force which\nresides in all things, and without which no existence can manifest\nitself,\u201d and is \u201cthe essential principle of all action.\u201d Uniting with\nthe _Khi_, breath or soul, it produces \u201cthe life, the movement, the\nbeings and the things peopling the world.\u201d It is their essential\ncondition. The entire system of magic and religion rests on these\nideas.[48.3] Much the same may be said of the Japanese _Kami_,\nprobably connected with Ainu _Kamui_.[48.4] It is, however,\nunnecessary to discuss {49} at length the conceptions involved. They\nhave been elaborated through centuries of civilization and\nphilosophical exposition, until it is now difficult to determine how\nmuch of their present form and content they owe to archaic savagery.\n\nLet us turn to the Melanesian islands of the South Pacific. \u201cThe\nMelanesian mind,\u201d says Dr Codrington, \u201cis entirely possessed by the\nbelief in a supernatural power or influence, called almost universally\n_mana_. This is what works to effect everything which is beyond the\nordinary power of men, outside the common processes of nature; it is\npresent in the atmosphere of life, attaches itself to persons and to\nthings, and is manifested by results which can only be ascribed to its\noperation. When one has got it he can use it and direct it, but its\nforce may break forth at some new point; the presence of it is\nascertained by proof. A man comes by chance upon a stone which takes\nhis fancy; its shape is singular, it is like something, it is\ncertainly not a common stone, there must be _mana_ in it.\u2026 Having\nthat power, it is a vehicle to convey _mana_ to other stones.\u2026 But\nthis power, though itself impersonal, is always connected with some\nperson who directs it; all spirits have it, ghosts generally, some\nmen. If a stone is found to have a supernatural power, it is because a\nspirit has associated itself with it; a dead man\u2019s bone has with it\n_mana_, because the ghost is with the bone; a man may have so close a\nconnexion with a spirit or ghost that he has _mana_ in himself also,\nand can so direct it as to effect what he desires; a charm is powerful\nbecause the name of a spirit or ghost expressed in the form of words\nbrings into it the power which the ghost or spirit exercises through\nit. Thus all conspicuous success is a proof that a man has _mana_; his\ninfluence depends on the impression made {50} on the people\u2019s mind\nthat he has it; he becomes a chief by virtue of it. Hence a man\u2019s\npower, though political or social in its character, is his _mana_; the\nword is naturally used in accordance with the native conception of the\ncharacter of all power and influence as supernatural. If a man has\nbeen successful in fighting, it has not been his natural strength of\narm, quickness of eye or readiness of resource that has won success;\nhe has certainly got the _mana_ of a spirit or of some deceased\nwarrior to empower him, conveyed in an amulet of a stone round his\nneck, or a tuft of leaves in his belt, in a tooth hung upon a finger\nof his bow-hand, or in the form of words with which he brings\nsupernatural assistance to his side. If a man\u2019s pigs multiply, and his\ngardens are productive, it is not because he is industrious and looks\nafter his property, but because of the stones full of _mana_ for pigs\nand yams that he possesses. Of course a yam naturally grows when\nplanted; that is well known; but it will not be very large unless\n_mana_ comes into play; a canoe will not be swift unless _mana_ be\nbrought to bear upon it, a net will not catch many fish nor an arrow\ninflict a mortal wound.\u201d Such a power or influence as this is of\ncourse not physical, though it may show itself \u201cin physical force or\nin any kind of power or excellence which a man possesses.\u201d Finally,\n\u201call Melanesian religion consists, in fact, in getting this _mana_ for\none\u2019s self, or getting it used for one\u2019s benefit--all religion, that\nis, as far as religious practices go, prayers and sacrifices.\u201d[50.1]\n(The very intention that animates the Fiote rites of fetishism.)\n\nIt is not easy to formulate a clear idea of the original source of\n_mana_. It is said to be impersonal, to be present in the atmosphere\nof life and communicable to persons and to things. To that extent it\nresembles the {51} impersonal power or potentiality we have found\nelsewhere. But wherever it is manifested it is connected with some\npersonal being who originates and directs it.[51.1] It is not a\nquality inherent in men of more than ordinary power and skill. \u201cIf a\nman,\u201d writes Bishop Codrington, \u201chas been successful in fighting, \u2026\nhe has certainly got the _mana_ of a spirit or of some deceased\nancestor to empower him.\u201d And again: \u201cNo man has this power of his\nown; all that he does is done by the aid of personal beings, ghosts or\nspirits; he cannot be said, as a spirit can, to be _mana_ himself,\nusing the word to express a quality; he can be said to have _mana_, it\nmay be said to be with him, the word being used as a\nsubstantive.\u201d[51.2] It would thus seem as if it were an essential\ncharacteristic not of personal beings--even of powerful personal\nbeings--in general, but belonging to the world of spirits, including\nthe spirits of the dead. Yet not to all spirits; for elsewhere we\nread: \u201cIt must not be supposed that every ghost becomes an object of\nworship,\u201d as a source of _mana_. \u201cA man in danger may call upon his\nfather, his grandfather, or his uncle; his nearness of kin is\nsufficient ground for it. The ghost who is to be worshipped is the\nspirit of a man who in his lifetime had _mana_ in him; the souls of\ncommon men are the common herd of ghosts, nobodies alike before and\nafter death. The supernatural power abiding in the powerful living man\nabides in his ghost after death with increased vigour and more ease of\nmovement.\u201d[51.3] Thus {52} we are found in something like what\nlogicians call a vicious circle. Only those ghosts have _mana_, or are\n_mana_, after death who had _mana_ in their lifetime. But if they had\n_mana_ in their lifetime, it was because they derived it from ghosts\nor other spirits. In any case _mana_ appears to be conceived of as\ntranscending humanity, belonging to the mysterious region of the\nUnknown, embodied in its primitive denizens, flowing from them, by the\nchannel of material objects (amulets), forms of words (charms) or\nnames, to certain human beings, and taken back by the latter into the\nsame great reservoir of power when they die, thence to be communicated\nafresh to favoured mortals, and so on for ever. Probably, however, no\nsuch definite concept finds a place in the Melanesian brain; the mode\nof savage thought hardly admits of such crystallization.\n\nIt is likely that _mana_ (both the word and the meaning) {53} was\nintroduced into the Melanesian islands from Polynesia, where it is\nwidely spread and the word has numerous derivatives. In seeking there\nits explanation we are at a disadvantage; because, with all their\ndevotion and merits, no missionary and no scientific enquirer has\ngiven us such a study of Polynesian mentality as Dr Codrington has\ngiven of that of the Melanesians. We turn therefore, in the first\nplace, to the more dangerous guidance of a dictionary. From that we\nlearn that everywhere _mana_ has the signification of power, and\nalmost everywhere of supernatural power. It is also defined as\ninfluence, prestige, honour, authority; in Hawaiian it is used to\nexpress, besides supernatural power such as would be attributed to the\ngods, the simpler idea of power, and also spirit (in the sense of\nenergy of character), glory, majesty, intelligence--all doubtless\nsecondary meanings. We need not discuss in detail the derivatives in\nvarious Polynesian dialects. Their general trend is towards the\nexpression of thought, opinion or belief, industry, vehement desire,\nlove--all of them activities primarily of the mind or emotions.\n_Manava_ or _manawa_ is a word meaning the belly or internal organs of\nthe body, then the heart as the seat of affection, the feelings or\nemotions, soul, conscience, and in one dialect at least, an\napparition, a ghost or spirit. _Mana_, in short, seems to recall the\nidea of extraordinary qualities, especially power, and the emotional\nreactions caused by their exhibition. Power or energy, overwhelming,\nsupernatural, is evidently the root-idea, vested in individual,\npersonal beings. One phrase, to be sure, in a Maori myth suggests the\nindependent possession of this power by an object we should not regard\nas personal: _He taiaha whaimana_, explained by the lexicographer as\n\u201cA wooden sword which has done {54} deeds so wonderful as to possess a\nsanctity and power of its own.\u201d Literally it is \u201cA sword in which\n_mana_ is resident.\u201d Whether this or the parallel Mangarevan _e\nturuturu mana_, a powerful or magical staff, really implies an\ninherent power independent of spiritual origin, must remain\nundecided.[54.1] We are led to think of the weapons of Teutonic\nmythology and romance, having names as if they were personalities, and\nendowed with powers to render their bearers invincible--nay, when\ndrawn, to inspire them with ungovernable fury. But in the form in\nwhich their stories reach us all such weapons owe their peculiar\nproperties, like the curse upon the Nibelung hoard, to some more than\nearthly being, or at least to a mortal wizard.\n\nHaving furnished ourselves with this key, we may examine some of the\nincidents of Polynesian life and religion reported by competent\nobservers. The inauguration ceremony of a Tahitian king, we are told\nby the missionary Ellis, consisted in girding him with the _maro ura_,\nor sacred girdle of red feathers. This girdle \u201cwas made with the\nbeaten fibres of the _aoa_; with these a number of _uru_, red\nfeathers, taken from the images of their deities, were interwoven with\nfeathers of other colours. The _maro_ thus became sacred, even as the\nperson of the gods, the feathers being supposed to retain all the\ndreadful attributes of power and vengeance which the idols possessed,\nand with which it was designed to endow the king.\u201d So potent indeed\nwas it that \u201cit not only raised him to the highest earthly station,\nbut identified {55} him with\u201d the gods.[55.1] The same missionary\nelsewhere relates that \u201cthroughout Polynesia the ordinary medium of\ncommunicating or extending supernatural powers was the red feather of\na small bird found in many of the islands and the beautiful long\ntail-feathers of the tropic or man-of-war bird. For these feathers the\ngods were supposed to have a strong predilection; they were the most\nvaluable offerings that could be presented; to them the power or\ninfluence of the gods was imparted, and through them transferred to\nthe objects to which they might be attached.\u201d On certain ceremonial\noccasions those persons \u201cwho wished their emblems of deity to be\nimpregnated with the essence of the gods, repaired to the ceremony\nwith a number of red feathers, which they delivered to the officiating\npriest. The wooden idols being generally hollow, the feathers were\ndeposited in the inside of the image, which was filled with them.\u201d\nWhen the idols were solid, the feathers were attached on the outside.\nTo anyone who brought fresh feathers, two or three of the same kind\nwhich had been thus \u201cunited to the god\u201d at a former festival were\ngiven in return. \u201cThese feathers were thought to possess all the\nproperties of the images to which they had been attached, and a\nsupernatural influence was supposed to be infused into them. They were\ncarefully wound round with very fine cord, the extremities alone\nremaining visible. When this was done, the new-made gods were placed\nbefore the larger images from which they had been taken; and lest\ntheir detachment should induce the god to withhold his power, the\npriest addressed a prayer to the principal deities, requesting them to\nabide in the red feathers before them. {56} At the close of his _ubu_,\nor invocation, he declared that they were dwelt in or inhabited (by\nthe gods), and delivered them to the parties who had brought the red\nfeathers. The feathers, taken home, were deposited in small\nbamboo-canes, excepting when addressed in prayer. If prosperity\nattended their owner, it was attributed to their influence, and they\nwere usually honoured with a _too_, or image, into which they were\ninwrought; and subsequently, perhaps, an altar and a rude temple were\nerected for them. In the event, however, of their being attached to an\nimage, this must be taken to the large temple, that the supreme idols\nmight sanction the transfer of their influence.\u201d[56.1]\n\nIn the foregoing passages it will be perceived that the missionary is\ndoing something more than describing rites he had no doubt often\nwitnessed; he is labouring also to translate into English and\nincorporate with his account the explanations he had extracted from\nhis Polynesian friends. He seems to exhaust his spiritual vocabulary\nin speaking of \u201cpowers,\u201d \u201cinfluence,\u201d \u201cthe communication of\nattributes,\u201d of \u201cthe essence of the gods.\u201d But when he recalls the\nwords of the priest, they are even stronger and at the same time\nsimpler than any of these expressions: the god is prayed to \u201cabide in\u201d\nthe feathers; he is declared to \u201cinhabit\u201d them. If these be an\naccurate translation of the words employed, it would seem that not\nmerely the power but a portion of the personality of the god passed\ninto the feathers, and that while his chief residence was still at the\ngreat temple where his principal image dwelt, he was also present\nwhithersoever the bunches of feathers which had been consecrated by\ndeposition within or upon it were carried. He himself inhabited them;\nand it was this fact that \u201cidentified\u201d the king, as the wearer of such\nfeathers, with the gods.\n\n{57}\n\nIt may be so. It may be another illustration of the fluidity of the\nconcept of personality. But what we have already learned of _mana_ may\nlead us to place another interpretation upon it. It was not merely the\ngods whose influence or personality was conveyed by contact. The king\nin his turn spread an awful influence in the same way, or even by the\nutterance of a word. In New Zealand \u201cthe garments of an _ariki_, or\nhigh chief, were _tapu_, as well as everything relating to him; they\ncould not be worn by anyone else, lest they should kill him.\u201d If a\nsingle drop of a high chief\u2019s blood flowed on anything, it consecrated\nthe object to him, or, as the natives phrased it, rendered it _tapu_.\nThis consequence resulted to everything touched by him, to everything\nto which he chose to affix his name or the name of one of his\nancestors. He could not eat with his wife, lest his sanctity should\nkill her, though she herself was by marriage consecrated to him. Nor\nwas the sanctity by any means confined to the highest chiefs. It\nextended downwards to the lower ranks, but always in a decreasing\nmeasure. It mainly depended on rank and influence;[57.1] it could be\nnone other than the effect of _mana_.\n\nBetween _mana_, however, and personality the dividing line is very\nthin. We find it the same in other parts of the world. Father De\nAcosta relates that upon the even of his feast the Mexican idol\nTezcatlipuca was furnished with a new robe. When it was put on, the\nold robe was taken off \u201cand kept with as much or more reverence than\nwe doe our ornaments.\u201d Ecclesiastical ornaments of course are meant;\nand the writer goes on to say that \u201cthere were in the coffers of the\nidoll many ornaments, iewelles, eareings, and other riches, as\nbracelets and pretious feathers, which served to no other vse than to\nbe {58} there, and was [_sic_] worshipped as their god it\nselfe.\u201d[58.1] Here the ornaments would seem to all intents identified\nwith the god, exactly as the red feathers of the Tahitian god are\n\u201cinhabited\u201d by him. The explanation of the one is the explanation of\nthe other. The same ambiguity is discoverable in a much higher\ncivilization than either the Polynesian or the Mexican. Down to the\nend of the eighteenth century Breton women, in order to secure a happy\ndelivery, used to dip their girdles in certain sacred fountains; and\neven to-day the expectant mother who can wrap around her body a ribbon\nthus dipped is sure in due course to bring into the world a robust\nchild, and that without danger to herself.[58.2] This we may be\ninclined to think an example of an impersonal power analogous to that\nof the Siouan _wakonda_ or the Algonkian _manitou_. But we can carry\nthe matter a step further. The Ursuline nuns of Quintin keep a girls\u2019\nschool of high reputation in Brittany. When one of their pupils has\nmarried and become pregnant, they sometimes send her as a special\nfavour a ribbon which has touched a reliquary containing a fragment of\nthe Virgin Mary\u2019s zone; and it is worn by the recipient around her\nwaist until her baby is born.[58.3] It is not surely misinterpreting\nthe rite to deem that the Virgin\u2019s zone, having been in contact with\nher divinity, has acquired and retains a portion of the _mana_\nemanating from her person; the reliquary in turn is permeated by that\n_mana_, and communicates it to everything that touches it. The worthy\nnuns probably have no exact theory on the subject; but a little\nconsideration of the practice will lead us to think that we have\nunderstated its meaning. {59} It is the converse case to that of the\ndeposit of clothing and other articles on the shrine or the image of\nthe divine being, which we have already considered. In the latter case\nthere could be no question of _mana_ conveyed to the god from his\nvotary. Moreover, the true interpretation of the practice must explain\nthe cult of relics of the saints, whether Christian, Mohammedan, or\nBuddhist. Now, these relics consist not merely of garments and\narticles of use, like a staff, but also of the bodies or fragments of\nthe bodies of the saints. In them a portion of their very personality\ninheres, and accounts for the beneficent potentiality residing in the\nrelics, as it accounts also for the liability to injury by witchcraft\nupon similar fragments of the body or clothing of ordinary mortals.\nFor ordinary mortals, whatever their potentiality, cannot measure it\nagainst that of saints and witches.\n\nYet human beings who are neither saints nor witches, and the lower\nanimals also, have their potentialities, the benefit of which is\ncapable of being transferred to others. This is one of the reasons for\ncannibalism. Among the Veddas of Ceylon, one of the lowest known\npeoples, it is said to have been the custom, when a man had been\nkilled, for the slayer to open the body and take out a piece of the\nliver, which he would dry in the sun and keep in his pouch. Indeed a\nman was sometimes put to death for the purpose. Its object was to make\nits possessor strong and confident to avenge insults. He would bite\noff a piece of the dried liver and chew it, saying to himself: \u201cI have\nkilled this man; why should I not be strong and confident and kill\nthis other one who has insulted me?\u201d[59.1] So the Turks, after the\ndeath of the Albanian hero Scanderbeg, dug up his body and from his\nbones constructed amulets to inspire courage into the wearer on {60}\nthe battlefield.[60.1] This potentiality may be communicated, like\nthe Melanesian _mana_, through other objects; and the possibility has\nled to certain funeral customs in Europe as well as elsewhere. After a\ndeath in the Highlands of Bavaria it was formerly the duty of the\nhousewife to prepare corpse-cakes (_Leichen-nudeln_). Having kneaded\nthe dough, she placed it to rise on the dead body, which lay on a bier\nenswathed in a linen shroud. When the dough had risen, the cakes were\nbaked for the expected guests. To the cakes so prepared the belief\nattached that \u201cthey contained the virtues and advantages of the\ndeceased,\u201d and that his \u201cliving strength passed over into the kinsmen\nwho consumed the cakes, and was thus retained within the\nkindred.\u201d[60.2] The eating of the flesh of animals remarkable for\nqualities such as ferocity, strength, fleetness, and so forth, with\nintent to acquire these qualities is well known. One illustration will\nbe sufficient here. The Basuto, before going to war, make assurance\ndoubly, trebly sure by a cruel rite. The foreleg of a living bull is\ncut off. The warriors eat it and are sprinkled with blood from the\nanimal, which is then killed. They are lanced by the witch-doctor, and\na powder made of the flesh of the bull is rubbed into the wounds. In\nthis way, namely, by eating the flesh, by sprinkling the blood, and by\ninoculation, \u201cthe strength and courage of the animal\u201d are imparted to\nthem.[60.3]\n\nIt appears then that the concept of personality is inseparable from\nthat of the potentiality with which a personality is endowed. Hence\nthe ambiguity of the Tahitian rite. Whether the feathers which had\nbeen {61} attached to an image retained and transmitted to the next\nwearer the _mana_, or a portion of the personality, of the god, the\none effect was equivalent to the other: they are indistinguishable.\nBut between _mana_ and the potentiality that elsewhere invests a\npersonality there is a difference. The latter may be, and frequently\nis, held to be drawn from the common source of power, the invisible\nand continuous life that permeates all things; whereas in Melanesia\n(and perhaps in Polynesia too) _mana_ is definitely ascribed only to a\npersonal origin, if Dr Codrington has rightly interpreted the belief.\nIt is the special property of spirits--that is to say, of supernatural\nbeings--and is communicated by them to whatsoever or whomsoever they\nwill. An important step has thus been taken by the Melanesian mind\ntowards separating the Personal from the Impersonal, and human from\nsuperhuman attributes and potentialities.\n\nThus we find in widely separated regions, among widely different races\nand in cultures the most diverse, the idea of mystic power or\npotentiality, often concentrated in individual persons or things, but\nin effect spread throughout the world. Some peoples have been more\nalive to the impersonal character of this power, and have ascribed to\nit, wherever manifested, a unity of origin akin to the scientific\nconcept of force behind all phenomena. To others it has assumed a more\nindividual character. It clings in any case to personality and tends\nto become inseparable from it; but the impersonal aspect is never\nwholly wanting.\n\nThe patient reader will have observed the difficulty experienced alike\nby scientific explorers and missionaries in expounding this idea in\nits varied forms and applications. The difficulty has not arisen\nwholly from its strangeness. It is due in large part to its want of\nclarity. The savage {62} himself does not know; he has rarely had\noccasion, and still more rarely inclination, to reflect on his\nbeliefs. He has had no schools of science or philosophy to think out\nhis thoughts for him. Hence they are ill defined; like clouds in the\nsky, they take first one shape and then another. Yet those very\nclouds, by comparison with the formless vapour from whence they have\nbeen condensed, are continents of solidity and definiteness.\n\nAlthough the idea of _orenda_, or _mana_, may not receive everywhere\nthe same explicit recognition, it is implied in the customs and\nbeliefs of mankind throughout the world. It underlies the practice of\nTaboo. We have had already occasion to notice this in reference to the\n_mana_ of Maori chiefs. In the population of Madagascar there is a\nlarge, perhaps a predominant Polynesian element. When a Malagasy\nsticks up in his field a figure or scarecrow to keep off robbers, it\nis not that they may dread prosecution with all the rigour of the law,\nthough that may be the result if they are caught. What is threatened\nis sickness, mysteriously induced by the power of the owner of the\nfield, or by the power which he has caused to be conjured into the\nscarecrow.[62.1] A Samoan in the same way suspends to a cocoa-nut\npalm a small figure of a shark made with a leaf of the tree; it is\nnotice to the robber that he will be inevitably devoured by a white\nshark the next time he goes to fish.[62.2] Similar practices prevail\nin the Melanesian islands.[62.3] Taboo has obtained a very prominent\nposition in the social order and government of Polynesian communities.\nIt is {63} from them that the word has been adopted into English\nparlance, and adapted to a sense near akin to that of another\ninteresting word--to _boycott_. But it is not only in Polynesia and\nthe neighbouring islands of Melanesia that the dread of a mysterious\n_mana_ is found, or that it leads to prohibitions and abstinences\noften very burdensome. It is unnecessary to adduce examples of the\ntaboos on women, practically universal in the lower culture at certain\ntimes. The Siberian Chukchi, whose fire has gone out on the cold and\ntimberless tundra, cannot borrow fire from his neighbour, for \u201cthe\nfire of a strange family is regarded as infectious and as harbouring\nstrange spirits. Fear of pollution extends also to all objects\nbelonging to a strange hearth, to the skins of the tent and the\nsleeping room, and even to the keepers and worshippers of strange\npenates. The Chukchi from far inland, who travel but little, when they\ncome to a strange territory fear to sleep in tents or to eat meat\ncooked on a strange fire, preferring to sleep in the open air and to\nsubsist on their own scant food-supply. On the other hand, an unknown\ntraveller, coming unexpectedly to a Chukchi camp, can hardly gain\nadmittance to a tent,\u201d a difficulty of which the writer I am quoting\nhad personal experience.[63.1] This reluctance to contact with\nstrangers is not shyness; nor is it the dread of hostile intentions.\nEach individual, each family or body of men, has its own atmosphere;\nand this atmosphere conveys \u201cpollution.\u201d It is only throwing the idea\na step backwards to imagine the cause of the pollution as \u201cstrange\nspirits.\u201d Spirits are _mana_; and it is the _mana_ that is feared--the\nmystic influence or potentiality that may strike the unwary stranger.\nThis is what issues in practice as the taboo. The subject of Taboo has\nbeen treated so fully by {64} Professor Frazer[64.1] that it is\nneedless to discuss it here. Moreover, to do so in any detail would\nrequire a volume. Suffice it to say that the universal avoidance of a\ndead body, the prohibitions observed by priests, by chiefs, by hunters\nand warriors, the prohibitions of temple and shrine, of times and\nseasons, of speech and act, may all be traced to the same root-idea.\nOur words _sanctity_, _pollution_, _infection_ feebly and partially\ntranslate the intuitive dread of _orenda_ which is embodied in a\ntaboo.\n\nThe Evil Eye is a striking example of the belief in _orenda_ that has\nsurvived into civilized communities. Here the whole maleficent\npotentiality of a person is concentrated in a glance; and the amulets\nso often worn on the body or suspended on the wall or at the door of\na house are directed to intercepting and so exhausting the influence.\nIn many cases, either by means of them or by a word or gesture, a\ncounter-_orenda_ is exercised, intended to annihilate, or at least\nneutralize, the evil influence. An analogous superstition may be cited\nfrom the Upper Congo. The Boloki believe that an occult power is\npossessed and exercised by many individuals. They call it _likundu_.\nLike the Evil Eye, its possession and exercise may be unconscious. \u201cA\nperson is accused of possessing _likundu_ when he or she is\nextraordinarily successful in hunting, fishing, skilled labour or the\naccumulation of wealth. There is apparently,\u201d says Rev. J. H. Weeks,\n\u201conly a certain amount of skill extant, only a certain number of fish\nto be caught, only a certain amount of wealth to be gained; and for a\nperson to excel all others is a proof that he is using evil means {65}\nto his own advantage, and in thus defrauding others of their share he\nlays himself open to the charge of possessing _likundu_.\u201d Consequently\n\u201ca person who possesses this _likundu_ may unconsciously cause the\nhunting skill of any hunter in his family to fail.\u201d When the charge is\nseriously made \u201cit causes much annoyance, and can only be disproved by\neither drinking the ordeal or refraining from doing that which has\nbrought the charge,\u201d of which Mr Weeks goes on to give an illustration\nthat had come under his own observation.[65.1]\n\nFinally, what foundation there may be for the modern psychological\ndoctrine of Telepathy it is not my business to determine. But its\nresemblance to the Iroquoian doctrine of _orenda_ may be pointed out\nhere. Telepathic communication may result from conscious or\nunconscious exertion of will; it may occur at a supreme crisis of fate\nor at a casual moment. It is in either case the product of a\npotentiality which we call _mystic_ for want of a better name, and\nwhich attaches to, or flows from, some personalities more strongly\nthan others. We have all had the experience of occasionally meeting,\nor receiving a letter from, someone on whom our thoughts have been\nmore or less insistently dwelling, and whom we did not expect\nimmediately to see or hear from. Goethe is reported by his friend\nEckermann as having told him: \u201cI have often enough had the experience\nin my youthful years of a powerful longing for a beloved maiden taking\npossession of me during a {66} lonely walk; and I thought about her\nand thought about her until she really came and met me.\u201d We need,\nhowever, no such commonplace illustration to convince us of Goethe\u2019s\n_orenda_.\n\nWithout multiplying illustrations which will spring to the mind of\neveryone, I venture to suggest that in man\u2019s emotional response to his\nenvironment, in his interpretation in the terms of personality of the\nobjects which encountered his attention, and in their investiture by\nhim with potentiality, atmosphere, _orenda_, _mana_--call it by what\nname you will--we have the common root of magic and religion.\n\n\n\n\n II. Theories and Definitions\n\nAt this point we are confronted with the difficult questions What is\nReligion? and What is Magic?\n\nReligion is notoriously hard to define. Every man thinks he knows what\nit is; but when he comes to define it he never succeeds, clever as he\nmay be, in framing a definition generally acceptable. The ordinary\nman, with a particular religion--the only one of which he has had any\nexperience--in his eye, defines it to square with that religion: if\nothers cannot be brought into the definition, so much the worse for\nthem. The anthropologist, whatever his bias, fares no better than the\nordinary man. He has his theories; and in expounding them he is\nfrequently called upon to define religion. In practice his theories\nare hardly a safer guide than the other\u2019s prejudices or ignorance.\nHence a definition of religion usually begs the question.\n\nWe will confine our attention here to some of the recent attempts made\nby anthropologists to define religion.\n\n{67}\n\nTo Professor Jevons the fundamental principle of religion is \u201cbelief\nin the wisdom and goodness of God\u201d; \u201cthe revelation of God to man\u2019s\nconsciousness was immediate, direct, and carried conviction with it\u201d;\nand the original religion was monotheism, albeit a low form of that\nfaith.[67.1] This may perchance fit the religion of the Hebrews as\nseen through theological spectacles; but it definitely excludes\nBuddhism, at all events in its primitive form. For though Buddhism\narose out of an earlier religion, and in a comparatively high stage of\ncivilization, and though its founder admitted (apparently) the\nexistence of other intelligences than man, he would have nothing to do\nwith them. Sir Edward Tylor surmounts this difficulty by his famous\n\u201cminimum definition of religion--the belief in Spiritual\nBeings.\u201d[67.2] But it is only to land himself in another. For\nreligion is nothing if not practical: the mere belief is not religion.\nAs Lord Avebury points out: \u201cA belief in ghosts is in itself no\nevidence of religion. A ghost is not a god, though it may become\none.\u201d[67.3] Australian savages believe in ghosts--and tremble; but of\nvery few of them is anything approaching to worship recorded.\nConscious of this objection, Professor Frazer employs the word\nReligion to express \u201ca propitiation or conciliation of powers superior\nto man which are believed to direct and control the course of nature\nand of human life. Thus defined, religion consists of two elements, a\ntheoretical and a practical, namely, a belief in powers higher than\nman and an attempt to propitiate or please them.\u2026 Hence belief and\npractice or, in theological language, faith and works {68} are equally\nessential to religion, which cannot exist without both of\nthem.\u201d[68.1]\n\nThis definition supplies the obvious deficiency in Tylor\u2019s; but it\ndoes not touch the case of Buddhism. And there is one important\nrespect in which all these definitions fail. None of them explicitly\nrecognizes the social character of the religions of the lower culture.\nFor aught that appears, religion might be the business of solitary\nmen, founded on their speculations, hopes and fears, uncommunicated to\nand unshared by others, their own individual concern. But, in savage\nlife at least, religion is pre-eminently social. Individual rites\nthere may be; they are, however, parts of a whole, subordinate to the\ncommon observances and common beliefs on which they are founded. The\nindividualist idea--the supreme necessity of saving one\u2019s own\nsoul--has no place in them. St Simeon Stylites and the Hindu fakir are\nequally the product of a much higher development.\n\nA recent French writer, impressed with these objections to the\nforegoing and similar definitions, has attempted to formulate one more\ncomprehensive and more subtle. Summing up a long discussion, he\nconcludes that \u201ca religion is a connected (_solidaire_) system of\nbeliefs and practices relative to sacred--that is to say, separated,\ninterdicted--things,--beliefs and practices that unite into one moral\ncommunity, called Church, all who adhere to them.\u201d[68.2] This,\nhowever, is not Religion (with a capital {69} letter). Religion,\nreferring of course to the theoretical side or belief, he says\nelsewhere, \u201cis before everything a system of notions by means of which\nindividuals interpret the society of which they are members, and the\nobscure but intimate relations they sustain with it.\u201d And he goes on\nto say of the practical side that the function of religious rites is\nto tighten the bonds that unite the individual to the society.[69.1]\nIn other words, Religion is Society realizing itself. Before\nconsidering this definition, let us turn to Magic.\n\nProfessor Frazer draws a sharp line between religion and magic. The\nlatter is founded (unconsciously indeed, for the primitive magician\n\u201cnever analyses the mental processes on which his practice is based\u201d)\non the assumption \u201cthat in nature one event follows another\nnecessarily and invariably without the intervention of any spiritual\nor personal agency.\u2026 The magician does not doubt that the same\ncauses will always produce the same effects, that the performance of\nthe proper ceremony, accompanied by the appropriate spell, will\ninevitably be attended by the desired results, unless indeed his\nincantations should chance to be thwarted and foiled by the more\npotent charms of another sorcerer.\u201d[69.2] The laws governing the\npractical application of this assumption are resolved into two:\n\u201cfirst, that like produces like, or that an effect resembles its\ncause; and second, that things which have once been in contact with\neach other continue to act on each other at a distance after the\nphysical contact has been severed. {70} The former principle may be\ncalled the Law of Similarity, the latter the Law of Contact or\nContagion. From the first of these principles, namely, the Law of\nSimilarity, the magician infers that he can produce any effect he\ndesires merely by imitating it: from the second he infers that\nwhatever he does to a material object will affect equally the person\nwith whom the object was once in contact, whether it formed part of\nhis body or not. Charms based on the Law of Similarity may be called\nHom\u0153opathic or Imitative Magic. Charms based on the Law of Contact or\nContagion may be called Contagious Magic.\u201d[70.1] Magic therefore is\nthe result of a mistaken association of ideas. It preceded religion.\nBut when man began to find out \u201cthe inherent falsehood and barrenness\nof magic,\u201d when \u201cmen for the first time recognized their inability to\nmanipulate at pleasure certain natural forces which hitherto they had\nbelieved to be completely within their control,\u201d they fell back on the\ntheory that there were other beings like themselves who directed the\ncourse of nature and brought about the effects they had hitherto\nbelieved to be dependent on their own magic. To them they turned in\ntheir helplessness, and thus evolved religion.[70.2] Accordingly,\nmagic and religion have always been hostile. Magic has indeed in many\nages and in many lands permeated religion, has often gone the length\nof fusing and amalgamating with it. But this fusion was not primitive:\nthey are originally and fundamentally distinct.[70.3]\n\nIn a powerful criticism of this theory Messrs Hubert and Mauss, two\nFrench anthropologists, have pointed {71} out that Professor Frazer\nhas omitted one essential item. The effect of a magical rite is not\nattained merely by sympathy. All magic is not sympathetic magic,\nwhether that sympathy be expressed by the Law of Similarity or the Law\nof Contact. Moreover, even in sympathetic magic the sympathetic\nformula is insufficient to account for the facts. Sympathy is only the\nmeans by which the magical force passes from the magician to the\nobject at which it is aimed; it is not the magical force itself. That\nstill remains to be explained. It cannot be wholly explained by the\nproperties attributed to the materials used in the magical rite, and\nthat for three reasons. In the first place, the notion of property is\nnormally not the only one present. The employment of substances having\nmagical properties is ritually conditioned. They must be collected\naccording to rule, at certain times, in certain places, with certain\nmeans, and after certain ritual preparations. When collected, they\nmust be employed according to certain rules and with the accompaniment\nof rites, often exceedingly elaborate, which permit the utilization of\ntheir qualities. In the second place, the magical property is not\nconceived as naturally, absolutely, and specifically inherent in the\nthing to which it is attached, but always as relatively extrinsic and\nconferred. Sometimes it is conferred by a rite. At other times it is\nexplained by a myth; and in this case it is clearly regarded as\naccidental and acquired. It often resides in secondary characters,\nsuch as form, colour, rarity, and so forth. In the third place, the\nnotion of magical property suffices so little that it is always\nconfounded with a very generalized idea of force and nature. The idea\nof the effect to be produced may indeed be precise; but that of the\nspecial qualities of the substance used to produce it, and their\nimmediate action, is always obscure. {72} In fact, the idea of things\nhaving undefined virtues is always prominent in magic. Salt, blood,\nsaliva, coral, iron, crystals, precious metals, the mountain ash, the\nbirch, the sacred fig-tree, camphor, incense, tobacco are among the\nmany objects which embody general magical powers, capable of all sorts\nof applications. Corresponding with this is the extreme vagueness of\nthe designations applied to magical properties, such as divine,\nsacred, mysterious, lucky, unlucky, and equivalent expressions. The\nnotion of property passes over easily into power and spirit. Property\nand power are inseparable terms; property and spirit are often\nconfounded. The virtues or properties of a thing often belong to it as\nthe abode of a spirit. Spirits are indeed often the agents of magic.\nIt is hardly too much to say that there is no magical rite in which\ntheir presence is not in some degree possible, though not expressly\nmentioned. Magic works in a special atmosphere, if not in the world of\ndemons, at least in conditions in which their presence is possible.\nBeyond doubt, one of the essential characteristics of magical\ncausality is that it is spiritual. Yet the idea of spiritual\npersonalities ill represents the general anonymous forces which\nconstitute the power of magicians. It gives no account of the virtue\nof words or gestures, the power of a look or of the intention, the\ninfluence or the mode of action of a rite. It does not explain why the\nmagical rite controls and directs spiritual existences, any more than\nthe sympathetic formula explains why the rite acts directly on the\nobject.[72.1]\n\n{73}\n\nI do not tarry now to give illustrations in detail of the various\npoints in the argument I have here summarized. It is clear that\nProfessor Frazer has overlooked something of importance, from one fact\nalone to which he alludes, but of which he fails to observe the vast\nimplications. The commonest excuse made by the magician for the\nfailure of his spells is that some other magician of greater power is\nthwarting him. There must therefore be degrees of power among\nmagicians, however it be acquired, and whether temporary or permanent,\ninherent or due to the possession of greater knowledge or more\npowerful spells. But that is a factor that tumbles the whole edifice\nof the theory down. It introduces another element--the personal\npotentiality. The same causes do not always produce the same effects,\napart from the personal element; the performance of the proper\nceremony, accompanied by the appropriate spell, is not inevitably\nattended by the desired results; the magician has not reached the\nscientific conclusion \u201cthat in nature one event follows another\nnecessarily and invariably, without the intervention of any spiritual\nor personal agency.\u201d Nay, the intervention of the magician himself is\nproof to the contrary.\n\nDestructive criticism is comparatively easy; anyone can make\nobjections. Not everyone can substitute a sounder theory in place of\nthat destroyed. It is when Messrs Hubert and Mauss come to construct\ntheir own theory of magic that they find themselves in difficulty. For\nthey have to admit that in magic the same collective forces operate as\nin religion. Faith is as necessary to magic as to religion; it is as\nnecessary to the magician as to the priest. Trickery no doubt there\nis; that has not always been excluded from religion. But there is much\nmore than trickery. The magician believes in his own powers; {74} and\nhe believes all the more strongly because his public believes. The\nfaith of society and his own faith act and react upon one another. But\nthis is precisely the case with the priest and his religion.\n\nIf we examine the magician\u2019s methods we can hardly distinguish them\nfrom those employed in religion. The attempt to bewitch an enemy by\nmeans of his clothing or a fragment of his body is precisely the same\nin principle as the proceedings already described at the inauguration\nof a Polynesian king or the communication of the virtues of medi\u00e6val\nsaints by means of their relics. It is true that in the one case the\nobject of the ceremony is maleficent, in the other cases it is\nbeneficent. If that were a real distinction, the processes would still\nremain analogous. It is not real, however; for the sanctity of\nPolynesian kings has its maleficent side, and the relics of the saints\nhave been often employed to the injury of an enemy, as well as to the\nhealing of a friend. Nor can it be said that magic is purely an art, a\ntechnique, while religion is dependent upon higher and independent\nwills. The aid of spirits is often invoked in magic; spell passes\neasily into prayer, and prayer into spell. The accounts that have\nreached us of the Witches\u2019 Sabbath may be the product of\nhallucination, or confessions extorted from victims who said what they\nwere expected to say. But at least they bear witness to the general\nbelief of the times, which regarded magic rather as a counter-religion\nthan as a mere technique. Professor Frazer\u2019s reply to this is of\ncourse that such a belief, such practices, were the result of a later\nfusion of religion and magic. That the fusion was not primitive is,\nhowever, incapable of proof. As we shall see by and by, in the lowest\nsocieties of which we have evidence practices usually regarded as\nmagical are indistinguishable from those regarded as {75} religious.\nThe mutual hostility of religion and magic, where it exists, is, in\ntruth, the result of a later development.\n\nLike religion, the chief factor in magic--that by which it\naccomplishes its ends--is the mystic force that is released and set at\nwork by the rite or the spell. Behind the sympathetic formula, behind\nthe notions of property and of spirits, there is another notion still\nmore mysterious, the notion of power, vague, impersonal, always\noperating, irresistible, or depending for its efficaciousness on\nconditions not altogether at command. The investigations of the last\nchapter have disclosed to us what this power is. By its very vagueness\nand impersonality it enshrines possibilities illimitable. It may be\nmaterialized, localized, personalized; but it ceases not to be\nspiritual, to act at a distance, and that by direct connection, if not\nby contact, to be mobile and to move without movement, to be\nimpersonal though clothed in personal forms, to be divisible yet\ncontinuous. It is this notion that accounts in the last resort for the\nphenomena of magic. Without it, magic is incomprehensible; like a\nsentence without the copula, the action, the affirmation is wanting.\n\nAll this is equally true of religion. The authors see therefore that\nmagic is, like religion, a social phenomenon; it has parallel rites\nwith those of religion; it has parallel postulates and beliefs. To\ndistinguish it from religion they are driven to erect into a test the\nindividualistic aims of its practitioners, or of those on whose behalf\nit is called in aid. Its true distinction is, according to this, that\nit tends to be isolated, to be furtive, to be put into motion on\nbehalf of individuals and against the community; its methods become\narbitrary; it ceases to be a common obligation. Individuals in magic\nhave appropriated the ideas and the collective forces generated by\n{76} religion, and turned them to their own ends. Religion, in short,\nis social in its aims, magic is antisocial. That is the only\ndifference between them. In this distinction Professor Durkheim\nagrees. Everywhere, he says, religious life has for its substratum a\ndefinite group; even what are called private cults are celebrated by\nthe family or the corporation or society to which they are restricted.\nOn the other hand, though magical beliefs are widely diffused and\npractised by large classes of a population, their effect is not to\nbind together those who adhere to them and unite them into a group\nhaving one common life: there is no magical Church. Between the\nmagician and those who consult him there is no durable bond. He has\nclients, not a church. His relations with them are accidental, not\npermanent; and they may have no relations with one another; they may\neven be ignorant of one another\u2019s existence.[76.1]\n\nBut this very charge of being antisocial is brought by many dominant\nreligions against their rivals. It was substantially the charge\nbrought against the early Christians by the Pagans. It is to-day the\ncharge formulated by fanatical Russian Christians against the Jews.\nHere in the west of Europe it is, in a somewhat vaguer form, the\nreproach of orthodox Christians against Agnostics and all shades of\nRationalists. To apply it as a test to distinguish religion from magic\nis to qualify the same practices as religious or as magical, according\nas they have social or antisocial ends. And how shall we define these\nends? The act which at one stage of civilization is antisocial, at\nanother is often a social duty. To attempt a change in this respect\nmay be antisocial as regards the existing society, though it may\nresult in ultimate benefit; and the attempt may be made from purely\nindividualist motives, for purely individualist ends. {77} Nay, the\nsame act may be in the same society social or antisocial, according to\ncircumstances. In Central Australia the man who kills an enemy by\nmeans of _arungquiltha_, which may be rendered _evil magic_, commits\nan antisocial act; he does it in secret: it would be dangerous to let\nit become known. But if a woman run away from her husband and cannot\nbe recovered, he may lawfully avenge himself with the aid of\n_arungquiltha_. He is performing an act of social justice, and will be\njoined in doing it by the men of his local group. In the same way\nvengeance may be taken for a murder, real or supposed, by a\n_Kurdaitcha_ party, which performs what we should designate as a\nmagical ceremony to cause the victim to sicken and die. This is held\nto be a social, not an antisocial act, for it is fulfilling the social\nduty of revenge. It is done with the sanction of the council of\nelders.[77.1] In Melanesia, as we have seen, all religion consists in\ngetting _mana_ for oneself, not for the benefit of others; though\ndoubtless the _mana_, when obtained, is often used for the advantage\nof the community.[77.2] Often it is not. \u201cA man will commonly have\nhis _keramo_, a _tindalo_ [a ghost that is worshipped] of killing, who\nwill help him in fighting or in slaying his private enemy.\u201d The\n_tindalo_, albeit the object of religious worship, has no prejudice\nagainst antisocial acts. His worshipper, before going out to commit\nwhat we should call murder, performs an elaborate ceremony,\nsacrificing to the ghost, and cursing his victim. If he succeed in\nkilling him, the _tindalo_ gets as his share of the spoil the ghost of\nthe deceased, and is invoked to give _mana_ in return.[77.3]\n\nThe man who, in Europe or elsewhere, makes use of {78} spells to\ninjure individuals, or even of the Evil Eye, is practising magic: he\nis doing an antisocial act. The man who defends himself with a\ngesture, with spells, or by loading his body with amulets, is not\ndoing an antisocial act; he is simply protecting himself. But is he\npractising religion or magic? Be it remembered here that a man may\nhave the Evil Eye without knowing it. Pius the Ninth, Vicar of Christ,\nwas reputed to have the Evil Eye. Nothing was so fatal as his\nblessing; the faithful quailed at his glance and doubtless protected\nthemselves with amulets. So the Boloki of the Congo hold that \u201cone can\nhave witchcraft without knowing it.\u201d[78.1] In these cases there can\nbe no antisocial intention. Among the Thonga of South-Eastern Africa a\ncommon procedure is to point at one\u2019s enemy with the index-finger.\nThis is antisocial: it is witchcraft. Before they go to war a ceremony\nis performed by an old woman, naked and in a state of ritual purity,\nover the warriors, and an incantation is muttered, to enable them to\nkill their foes.[78.2] This may not be antisocial; but is it anything\nelse than magic? True, the men murmur prayers to their ancestral\nspirits for help; but then religion is penetrated with magic. Even\nProfessor Durkheim admits that he cannot show a solution of continuity\nbetween them; the frontiers between their respective domains are often\nundefined, unfixed.[78.3] At all events he cannot say where the one\nends and the other begins.\n\nPerhaps, however, not the intention but the tendency, whether social\nor antisocial, is the test. In that case it is hard to conceive\nanything more antisocial than the operations of the Holy Inquisition.\nThey were, it is {79} true, not performed by supernatural\ninstrumentality, or for supernatural purposes. To that extent they are\nnot directly parallel with the rites we have been considering. But\nthey were carried on by persons consecrated to religion, as religious\nacts, surrounded by religious rites, by exorcisms, imprecations,\nconjurations, shielded by the Church with all her powers, and\nsanctioned, if not set in motion, by the highest ecclesiastical\nauthorities. They desolated every society where the institution was\nintroduced.[79.1] Secrecy has been already noted as a characteristic\nof magic as opposed to religion. Naturally antisocial acts are\nperformed in secret. The deeds of the Holy Office were done in the\ndeepest dens of the building, and surrounded by impervious precautions\nagainst discovery, except the last dread act. In that consummation of\ncruelty, that supreme Act of Faith, as it was called, its officials\nnominally took no part; though it was well known that they insisted\nupon it relentlessly and with every terror, ghostly or secular, which\nthey knew so well how to wield. On the other hand, the African\nsorcerer, conjuring the rain or the sunshine so necessary for the\ncrops, performs an eminently social work, and does it very often in\nthe open eye of day and before the assembled people. When a\nfisher-boat was launched in the north-east of Scotland a bottle of\nwhisky used to be broken on the prow or stern with the words:\n\n \u201cFrae rocks an\u2019 saands\n An\u2019 barren lands\n An\u2019 ill men\u2019s hands\n Keep\u2019s free.\n Weel oot, weel in,\n Wi\u2019 a gueede shot.\u201d\n\n{80}\n\n\u201cOn the arrival of the boat at its new home the skipper\u2019s wife, in\nsome of the villages, took a lapful of corn or barley, and sowed it\nover the boat.\u201d[80.1] These are not antisocial acts; they have no\nantisocial tendency; and they are not performed in secret. Must we\naccount them religious, and the operations of the Inquisition magical?\n\nThus antisocial character is no sufficient test of magic as opposed to\nreligion. Professor Doutt\u00e9, dealing with magic as developed in Islam,\nadheres generally to the views of Messrs Hubert and Mauss. He\nproposes, however, another definition. Quoting with approval the late\nM. Marillier\u2019s observation that magic is \u201cthe action on the without by\nthe within,\u201d[80.2] he remarks that the savage has not yet made a\nsufficient distinction between subject and object; he does not\ndifferentiate himself from the universe. And he concludes that magic,\ninvented under the pressure of need, is only the objectivation of\ndesire under the form of an extended force, singular, bound to\ngestures representative of the phenomenon desired and mechanically\nproducing it. If the savage externalize this magical force so far that\nhe ends by personifying it, we have the genesis of a god; the god, in\nfact, may be a personified _mana_. A god can only be anthropomorphic;\nhe is the psycho-physical objectivation of man in phenomena.[80.3]\nThis brings Professor {81} Doutt\u00e9 much nearer to Dr Frazer\u2019s\nposition, and might form the basis of an _eirenicon_ between them. For\nthough he is fully aware that much in magic is indistinguishable from\nreligion, he holds it to be a subsequent development: magic has so far\nmodelled itself on religion and borrowed its theistic methods of\nprocedure. It presents itself as an anti-religion. Under Christianity\nit reaches its ultimate term with the Black Mass and the cult of the\ndevil: Islam does not lend itself so well to hideous parody. Yet\nProfessor Doutt\u00e9, after flirting with Professor Frazer\u2019s opinion,\ncomes back to the orthodoxy of the French sociologists: the real\ndistinction between religion and magic is that the one is social--it\nsustains the life of the society; the other applies its rites to\nstrictly personal ends--it is antisocial. The one is magic lawful and\neven obligatory; the other is magic useless or injurious to society,\nand it is condemned and interdicted. Islam even recognizes white or\nreligious magic; the Prophet himself recommended it. Ibn Khaldo\u00fbn, a\ngreat Mohammedan jurist, can find, indeed, no solid distinction\nbetween the miracle of the saint and the prodigy wrought by the\nsorcerer, save that of the morality of its aim. The test of morality\nis what is permitted by the Law. That which is permitted by the Law is\nmoral; the rest is immoral. It comes to this, then, that a miracle is\nlegitimate magic, and magic is a forbidden miracle.[81.1]\n\nThe same difficulty in severing magic from religion is experienced by\none of the acutest writers who has considered the subject. \u201cMagic and\nreligion,\u201d says Dr Marett, \u201caccording to the view I would support,\nbelong {82} to the same department of human experience.\u2026 Together\nthey belong to the supernormal world, the _x_-region of experience,\nthe region of mental twilight. Magic I take to include all bad ways,\nand religion all good ways, of dealing with the supernormal--bad and\ngood, of course, not as we may happen to judge them, but as the\nsociety concerned judges them. Sometimes, indeed, the people\nthemselves hardly know where to draw the line between the two; and in\nthat case the anthropologist cannot well do it for them. But every\nsociety thinks witchcraft bad. Witchcraft consists in leaguing oneself\nwith supernormal powers of evil in order to effect selfish and\nantisocial ends. Witchcraft then is genuine magic--black magic, of the\ndevil\u2019s colour.\u201d[82.1] Presumably white magic--magic performed for\ngood and social ends--is not magic; it is a part of religion,\nnotwithstanding that precisely the same means may be employed as in\nwitchcraft--black magic. For Dr Marett adds: \u201cEvery primitive society\nalso distinguishes certain salutary ways of dealing with supernormal\npowers. All these ways taken together constitute religion.\u201d[82.2]\nComing more particularly to define religion, he says: \u201cSavage life has\nfew safeguards. Crisis is a frequent, if intermittent, element in it.\nHunger, sickness and war are examples of crisis. Birth and death are\ncrises. Marriage is usually regarded by humanity as a crisis. So is\ninitiation--the turning-point in one\u2019s career, when one steps out into\nthe world of men. Now what in terms of mind does crisis mean? It means\nthat one is at one\u2019s wits\u2019 end; that the ordinary and expected has\nbeen replaced by the {83} extraordinary and unexpected; that we are\nprojected into the world of the unknown.\u2026 Psychologically regarded,\nthen, the function of religion is to restore men\u2019s confidence when it\nis shaken by crisis.\u2026 Religion is the facing of the unknown. It is\nthe courage in it that brings comfort.\u201d Sociologically, \u201ca religion is\nthe effort to face crisis, so far as that effort is organized by\nsociety in some particular way. A religion is congregational--that is\nto say, serves the ends of a number of persons simultaneously. It is\ntraditional--that is to say, has served the ends of successive\ngenerations of persons. Therefore inevitably it has standardized a\nmethod. It involves a routine, a ritual. Also, it involves some sort\nof conventional doctrine, which is, as it were, the inner side of the\nritual--its lining.\u201d[83.1]\n\nOn this definition two observations may be made. The first is that it\ndoes not exclude any rites performed for social ends, or for\nindividual ends, so far as they are not definitely antisocial. The\nAustralian husband meets the crisis of desertion by his wife by means\nof _arungquiltha_. He performs an act organized by society to meet\nthis very crisis--on the definition, therefore, a religious act. But\nif by precisely the same process he attempt to slay his enemy, he is\nguilty of magic. Or is the wife\u2019s desertion not a crisis in the sense\nattached to the word by Dr Marett? Perhaps it is a relief, a solution\nof a domestic crisis.\n\nThe second observation is that the definition ignores the whole of\nlife not occupied by crises. When the Californian Hupa awakes in the\nmorning and sees the dawn, it cannot be said that he is at his wits\u2019\nend, that the ordinary and expected has been replaced by the\nextraordinary and unexpected. What does he do? He {84} greets the dawn\nwith a silent prayer that he may see many dawns, for he regards it as\na person who is benevolently inclined to him.[84.1] This surely is\nreligion. The point is met by the further statement that \u201cthe religion\nof a savage is part of his custom; nay, rather it is his whole custom\nso far as it appears sacred--so far as it coerces him by way of his\nimagination. Between him and the unknown stands nothing but his\ncustom. It is his all-in-all, his stand-by, his faith and his hope.\nBeing thus the sole source of his confidence, his custom, so far as\nhis imagination plays about it, becomes his \u2018luck.\u2019 We may say that\nany and every custom, in so far as it is regarded as lucky, is a\nreligious rite.\u201d[84.2] In that case religion is much more than the\nfacing of the unknown, the organized effort to face crisis. It is\ncustom coercing man by way of his imagination. A convenient custom\ncoerces by way of their imagination weary women at Tlemcen in Algeria\nnot to sweep out the house for three days at the New Year, so that\nthey may not lose their luck.[84.3] Can we legitimately call this\nreligion? Or take another case. There are people in England who will\nnot utter a boast, or tell a small social fib, without taking the\nprecaution to touch wood. I have known educated women drag a chair\nacross the room to a visitor who had just boasted of immunity from a\ntrifling ailment, in order that she might touch wood. Despite their\neducation, they were coerced by way of their imagination to this\nlittle ceremony. There must be thousands of things done merely for\nluck, and done habitually, by peoples alike in barbarism and in\ncivilization. Some of them probably are relics of a once living\nbelief. About others there is no such presumption; {85} yet they\nexercise the same constraint. Does that make them religious rites?\nDoes it make even those that once were portions of some living belief,\nbut are so no longer, religious rites now? Of course it is all a\nmatter of definition of terms. But a definition of religion which\nwould include all these would be catholic indeed.\n\nThe criticisms in this chapter involve no reflection on the\nperspicacity of scientific writers who are trying to obtain a clear\nvision of religion and magic and of their specific differences. But\nthey do aim at illustrating the futility of the attempt absolutely to\ndefine anything so fluid and elusive as religion.[85.1] Both religion\nand magic owe their origin to society; they are born and nurtured in a\nsocial atmosphere. Both are concerned with forces mysterious,\nfar-reaching, enveloping and constraining {86} men and things. These\nforces are not always personal, though their evolution usually takes a\npersonal direction. The means used by both are similar, because the\nforces are the same, or at least alike. Spell and prayer are very near\nakin; the one passes insensibly into the other. And the material means\ncommon to both are chosen arbitrarily or according to some fancied\nsymbolism, and employed in closely parallel ways. There is, in short,\nno decided boundary between religion and magic.\n\nThe task remains, notwithstanding, of defining the words for the\npurposes of the following pages. It is hopeless to attempt to\nharmonize the definitions we have considered. Whatever definition we\nadopt, it is clear that we cannot so express it as to confine religion\nwithin its own bounds, or to outlaw magic from the territory occupied\nby its rival. Yet a working definition is needed. In framing it regard\nought to be paid to the ordinary meaning of the words: the definition\nmust not be arbitrary.\n\nNow the word Magic, by the usage of centuries, is concerned not so\nmuch with aim or tendency as with method. It conveys the notion of\npower, by whatsoever means acquired, wielded by the magician as his\nown, and not as that of a higher being whose co\u00f6peration is only\nobtained by supplication and self-abasement. Supplication,\nself-abasement, flattery are the religious means of winning the help\nof divinities. Where higher beings, whether called gods or devils, or\nby the more ambiguous title of spirits, are invoked by spell,\ncompliance with the call is not dependent on their goodwill; the\ncommand is irresistible; and the procedure is magical. Sacrifice is\nutilized in both procedures; but it has a very different value in the\none and the other. In the one it operates as a communion with the\ndivinity, as a gift to {87} win favour which he is by no means bound\nto grant, or as an atonement for wrong. In the other it is a condition\non the fulfilment of which the desire of him who offers it is\naccomplished, inevitably and by compulsion. In such a case he who\noffers the sacrifice is not a worshipper; he is a master of the beings\nto whom it is offered. True, they are sometimes gods. In the religion\nof the Hindus \u201cprayers, penances, and sacrifices are supposed to\npossess an inherent and actual value, in no degree depending upon the\ndisposition or motive of the person who performs them. They are drafts\nupon Heaven, for which the Gods cannot refuse payment. The worst men,\nbent upon the worst designs, have in this manner obtained power which\nhas made them formidable to the Supreme Deities themselves.\u201d[87.1]\nThus has Southey succinctly stated the belief on which his poem of\n_The Curse of Kehama_ is built. Here by _prayers_ are meant liturgical\n_formul\u00e6_, which everywhere tend to degenerate into magical spells.\nPenances are in the nature of sacrifices. Or they are taboos that\npreserve and enhance the force and influence of the suppliant. Both\nalike are a magical process, in the sense in which the word Magic is\ngenerally employed. The constraining power of sacrifices was also a\ntenet of Egyptian religion, at all events in its last ages.[87.2]\nHave analogous beliefs in the magical powers of a rite even yet\ndisappeared from Christianity?\n\nThis then is the sense in which I venture to think the words Magic and\nMagical should be employed. It is based upon their general, if\nsomewhat vague, usage; and it is therefore intelligible to the\nordinary reader without recourse to a special definition. It is\nsubstantially that of Professor Frazer, save that it affirms nothing\nconcerning {88} the origin of the power active in magical practices:\nit simply takes them as they are--again an undeniable convenience. It\nfollows that for our purpose Religion will be confined to cultual\nsystems, whose objects, so far as they are personal, are endowed with\nfree will, are to be approached with true worship, and may or may not\ngrant the prayers of their suppliants. Here also we have common usage\non our side, with all its advantages. In this use of the word\nReligion, where the object is impersonal, or is but vaguely personal,\nit is none the less treated with reverence and submission, as\nsomething transcending man; it is the object of an emotional attitude,\nactively directed towards it. The object thus, even where it is not\npersonal, tends to become so. Buddhism, in its original form, and\nsimilar religions are the product of comparatively high civilizations.\nThe puritan severity of their primitive thought and practice was\nspeedily relaxed; they acquired personal gods, and thus liberated\nthemselves from a rule of life based upon philosophical considerations\nand the effort to escape without the aid of the higher personalities,\nof which they despaired, from the evils by which they felt themselves\noppressed. In the lower civilizations, as we have seen, no sooner is\nan impersonal power conceived as acting than it assumes personal\ncharacteristics. When once the attention is concentrated upon any\nmanifestation of it, these characteristics, originally vague, are\nlikely to be emphasized, and may grow into true personalities. In\nmagic, on the other hand, the impersonal power does not so readily\nbecome thus transformed, because the attention fastens on the personal\nagent, the magician, rather than on the power by which he operates.\n\nWhen all is said, however, religion is (ideally, at least)\nsocial--that is to say, moral--in its aims and tendencies, {89}\nwhereas magic lends itself to individualist aims. Religion binds the\nsociety together by raising the individual above himself, and teaching\nhim to subordinate his desires and actions to the general good; magic\nhas no compunction in assisting to carry out the wishes of the\nindividual, though they may be contrary to the interests of the\nsociety as a whole. To that extent it is disruptive, antisocial,\nimmoral; and when thus applied it may be described as Black, or Evil,\nor Hostile Magic. Here perhaps we find the origin of the opposition\nbetween them. So far from religion and magic having been originally\nhostile, the further we go back into savage life, and presumably,\ntherefore, towards primitive humanity, the more we find them\ninterwoven, indistinguishable. It is only in the advance of\ncivilization, and the consequent evolution of religion and of magic\nthat they become conscious of mutual hostility. When once the\nseparation had begun it would tend to widen. Certain methods and means\nwould be regarded as proper to the one, certain other methods and\nmeans as proper to the other, albeit neither of them, not even the\nhighest known and recognized form of religion, has hitherto been able\nto shake itself entirely free from the methods of the other. This is\nnot incompatible with increasing hostility. The loftier the claims of\nreligion become, the closer its relations with the profoundest thought\nof mankind, the more awful the sanctions it invokes, the more\ninevitable, the more irreconcilable the hostility becomes. Family\nquarrels are ever the bitterest.\n\n\n\n\n III. Development\n\nThe discussion has led to some anticipation of the argument. We turn\nback again to the personal potentiality.\n\n{90}\n\nHe for whom the world is full of personal beings and hardly anything\nelse--a universe of objects interpreted in the terms of conscious\npersonality and projected on a background of the Unknown with all its\npossibilities--he for whom each of those objects, human and non-human,\nliving and not-living, is invested in a greater or less degree with\n_orenda_, will naturally and instinctively on the one hand avail\nhimself of his own _orenda_, and on the other hand will dread and\nendeavour to turn to account the _orenda_ of others. But this very\nendeavour to turn others\u2019 _orenda_ to account is an exercise by prayer\nor compulsion of his own. I can see no satisfactory evidence that\nearly man consciously entertained any great faith in the order and\nuniformity of nature. Automatically, no doubt, he assumed that night\nwould follow day and day night, that the winter would follow the\nsummer or the dry season the wet, that the trees would blossom in the\nspring or after the rains set in, as he had been accustomed to see\nthem. But that was not the result of reflection; it was not an act of\nfaith. So things had always been, and he could not conceive any\ndifferent course. It was not part of his mental furniture; it was no\nacquisition of reasoning. It was the very framework of his mind. When\nhe began to reflect he referred these phenomena to the same cause to\nwhich he referred his own acts, and the more uncertain and capricious\nacts of other living beings--to personal will and _orenda_. Even if he\nhad risen to the large conception of the Siouan _wakonda_, that\nimpersonal force must, as we have seen, clothe itself with personality\nin order to operate. Immediately and for practical purposes the\npersonal will and _orenda_ of himself or some other object were the\nfount of all causation. They impelled and directed all actions, all\nmeans, and were responsible for all effects. If he took aim at his\n{91} enemy and flung his spear, or whatever primitive weapon served\nthe same purpose; if it hit the man, and he fell; he might witness the\nresult, but the mere mechanical causation, however inevitable in its\naction, would be the last thing he would think about. Conscious of his\nown will, of his own effort, of the words, perhaps, with which he had\naccompanied and directed the spear, he would attribute the result to\nsuch causes as these. His own _orenda_ felt in his passion, his will,\nhis effort, and displayed in his acts and words, the _orenda_ of the\nspear, either inherent in itself, conceived as a personal being, or\nconferred by its maker, and manifested in the keenness of its point,\nthe precision and the force with which it flies to its work and\ninflicts the deadly wound--these would be to him the true causes of\nhis enemy\u2019s fall. His _orenda_ is mightier than his enemy\u2019s and\novercomes it. So, when the enemy is absent and he cannot visibly reach\nhim, his _orenda_ may yet suffice to accomplish the desired injury. By\na psychological process which Dr Marett has subtly analysed,[91.1] he\nis led to perform in pantomime all the acts of a murder in the absence\nof the victim, either silently, or to the accompaniment of a chant, or\nof spoken words. His foe, who is as convinced as himself of the power\nof such a performance, if it come to his knowledge, falls a victim to\nthe terror it inspires, unless he can call in the aid of some other\nperson, objective or imaginary, whose _orenda_ is more powerful still.\nNor would the belief lack vindication even in the case of the victim\u2019s\nignorance; for any chance misfortune or sickness would be put down to\na hostile _orenda_; and if he did escape, it would be due to his own\nsuperior _orenda_.\n\nThus what we generally call magic or witchcraft is {92} primarily an\napplication of _orenda_. By his _orenda_ a man bewitches his enemy\n(or, for a consideration, someone else\u2019s enemy), causes rain or\nsunshine, raises and protects the crops, gains success in hunting,\ndivines the cause of sickness and cures it, raises the dead, spells\nout the future. His incantations, his gestures, his apparatus--whether\nof plants, stones, animal products, magical drawings, or whatever else\nit may be--would be of no avail without this. In Central Australia the\nArunta magician arms his \u201cpointing bone\u201d with _arungquiltha_. In\nCentral Africa the Murundi impregnates his magical implements with\nevil influence by means of his imprecations, his incantations, and his\nevocation of spirits. That is, he puts into them his _orenda_ or the\n_mana_ of the spirits: until then they are absolutely powerless and\nindifferent.[92.1] This influence, this _orenda_, _mana_, or\n_arungquiltha_, is the nexus--the copula, as it has been called--which\nlinks the subject, the magician, to the object, the result.\n\nBut man is not the only being who possesses _orenda_. The _orenda_ of\nhis quarry sometimes foils his own. The cicada chirping in the fields\nripens the maize for the Iroquois; the _orenda_ of the rabbit controls\nthe snow and fixes the depth to which it must fall. The awful\nmountain, the treacherous sea, those mighty beings who command the\nwinds, who send forth the storm, who rule in the darkness and mystery\nof the forest, possess an _orenda_ surpassing man\u2019s. It is useless to\npit his _orenda_ against theirs. Therefore he must adopt a different\ncourse. He must lay down his _orenda_ and submit it to theirs. This is\nthe literal meaning of the Iroquoian phrase which signifies in modern\nusage \u201cHe habitually prays.\u201d[92.2] He must take such a course as he\nwould to {93} obtain assistance from a human being (say, a powerful\nchief), or to conciliate an enemy. By gift, by abasement, by\nabstinence, by self-torture, by cajolery he must win this powerful\n_orenda_ to his side. Of these efforts abstinence and abasement are\nnegative forms of propitiation. They are perhaps the earliest forms.\nIf our reports be complete (on which we may have our doubts),\nabstinence is the only form used among the Andaman Islanders, where\nbelief is said to outrun active worship.[93.1] In any case a taboo\nfor propitiatory purposes is very early and very persistent. Not\nwithout insight does the poet tell us that Caliban\n\n \u201cWill let those quails fly, will not eat this month\n One little mess of whelks, so he may \u2019scape.\u201d\n\nAnd the modern European has still his Lent, and his Ember Days and\nFridays throughout the year. Such abstinence is the laying down and\nsubmission of the _orenda_ to those of mightier beings. On the other\nhand, gift, prayer, cajolery are, properly speaking, an active\nexercise of _orenda_. The relation of spell and incantation to prayer\nhas already been alluded to. They are often indistinguishable: they\nshade into one another by the finest gradations. Gifts are not mere\nself-deprivation. They must be accompanied by rites more or less\nelaborate, to render them acceptable to the lofty beings for whom they\nare intended. Or they are part of a bargain; they are the performance\non the suppliant\u2019s side which demands a corresponding return on the\nside of the god. More than one comparatively civilized people has held\nthat sacrifices properly performed not merely incline but compel the\ngods to grant what their worshipper desires. Gesture-language plays a\nlarge part in savage life. A {94} ceremony such as those familiar to\nus in sympathetic magic--to take only one instance, the sticking of\npins into a waxen figure--frequently is, to a large extent,\ngesture-language: it helps to suggest to the supernatural personages\nof whose _orenda_ the magician desires to make use exactly what is\nwanted. It is more than this, of course. It is in part the\nmake-believe which is a relief to overcharged feelings; in part it is\nthe means by which the _orenda_ is conveyed to the object intended to\nbe affected. The concomitant words that form part of the ceremony\nemphasize the desire. They fill and strengthen the instrument with the\n_orenda_ of the performer, or of the supernatural personage invoked or\ncompelled to assist; they direct the instrument, considered as a\npersonal being, in the service it is required to fulfil; or they\nallure, entreat, or command the object at which the rite is aimed.\n\nIf the view here taken be accurate, the essential opposition between\nmagic and religion disappears. Nor am I greatly concerned to decide\nwhether of the two developed the earlier. Their origin is the same;\nthey grow from one root. Nay, I should hardly be wrong if I changed\nthe metaphor and said: magic and religion are the two faces of one\nmedal. From the lowest stage of culture to the highest we find them\ninseparable. Gods were not invented because man proved unequal to the\nstrain of arranging the affairs of the universe by himself; nor has\nthe age of religion been everywhere preceded by the age of magic. \u201cBy\nwhatever name it is called,\u201d says Dr Codrington, speaking of the\nMelanesian _mana_, \u201cit is the belief in this supernatural power and in\nthe efficacy of the various means by which spirits and ghosts can be\ninduced to exercise it for the benefit of men that is the foundation\nof the rites and practices which can be called religious: and it is\nfrom the same belief that everything {95} which may be called magic\nand witchcraft draws its origin. Wizards, doctors, weather-mongers,\nprophets, diviners, dreamers, all alike, everywhere in the islands,\nwork by this power. There are many of these who may be said to\nexercise their art as a profession; they get their property and\ninfluence in this way. Every considerable village or settlement is\nsure to have someone who can control the weather and the waves,\nsomeone who knows how to treat sickness, someone who can work mischief\nwith various charms. There may be one whose skill extends to all these\nbranches; but generally one man knows how to do one thing and one\nanother. This various knowledge is handed down from father to son,\nfrom uncle to sister\u2019s son [for in many of these islands descent is\nstill reckoned exclusively through the mother], in the same way as is\nthe knowledge of rites and methods of sacrifice and prayer; and very\noften the same man who knows the sacrifice knows also the making of\nthe weather and of charms for many purposes besides. But as there is\nno order of priests, there is also no order of magicians or\nmedicine-men. Almost every man of consideration knows how to approach\nsome ghost or spirit, and has some secret of occult practices.\nKnowledge of either kind can be bought, if the possessor chooses to\nimpart it to any other than the heirs of whatever he has\nbesides.\u201d[95.1]\n\nHere we see, as yet undistinguished, the beginnings of the\nprofessional magician and the professional priest. Roughly and\nprovisionally it may be said that the professional magician is he who\nin the course of the evolution of society, by birth, by purchase, or\nby study and practice in the conventional methods, has acquired the\nmost powerful _orenda_. Similarly, the professional {96} priest is he\nwho in these ways, or by prayer and fasting, has obtained the favour\nof the imaginary personages believed to influence or control the\naffairs of men--who has, in a word, possessed himself of their\n_orenda_. The union of these two professions in one person is not\nadventitious; it is probably fundamental; it is at least so general\nthat in describing the society of savages and peoples in low stages of\nculture observers are often at a loss whether to call their\nfunctionaries priests or wizards, exorcists or medicine-men.\nConsequently, many anthropological writers use the word _shaman_,\nborrowed from the Tunguz, a tribe of South-Eastern Siberia, and\nincluding all four meanings. For in that condition of society the\nfunctions of priest and sorcerer and medicine-man are, as Professor\nFrazer says, \u201cnot yet differentiated from each other.\u201d That could not\nbe until, in the course of evolution, religion became severed from\nmagic. Yet it has never become so wholly severed that the primitive\nconnection may not be traced. Priests have become organized into a\nseparate order. Triumphant religions have proscribed the conquered\nfaiths, and have repudiated their practices as magical. Magic has thus\nbecome a term of opprobrium. The conquered faiths under repression\nhave carried on their religious worship mixed with magical rites and\ntending more and more to be degraded, yet never losing all religious\nelements. Even the magic of the Middle Ages and later, in Europe, if\nwe may trust the confessions of the judicial victims themselves, was\nmingled with the worship of a being in whom they recognized the devil,\nperhaps the last avatar of a heathen god; and witchcraft was one of\nthe commonest charges against heretics. On the other hand, not even\nthe highest religions have been able to free themselves wholly from\nrites strictly parallel to those {97} characterized as magical, by\nwhich their followers have striven to compass union with the objects\nof worship, to avail themselves of the _orenda_ of these objects, to\nlocate it in their own persons or in the images and implements of\ntheir cult, to intensify their own _orenda_, and to exercise it for\nthe benefit, spiritual, corporal or pecuniary, of themselves and\nothers.\n\nIt may be well to illustrate the foregoing speculation from the\ncustoms and superstitions of the Arunta of Central Australia. The\nArunta have been represented to be the lowest and least evolved of\nknown humanity in their beliefs and institutions: they are, it is\nsaid, still in the stage of primitive absence of religion; magic alone\nis the object of their belief; magic alone they practise. Now none of\nthe Australian tribes are, strictly speaking, in a primitive\ncondition. The civilization of all of them has evolved to some extent.\nIt has evolved, speaking in general terms, along similar lines; and\nthese lines have been conditioned by the environment. It is admittedly\nsignificant that, in a land where so many archaic types of the lower\nanimals have survived, we should find archaic types of human culture.\nYet the most archaic types of Australian culture are far from being\nprimitive. So far are they that the social organization is of the most\ncomplex character, the product of a succession of stages of\ndevelopment. The least archaic types exhibit the old social\norganization breaking down and new structures in course of formation.\nWith the evolution of society an evolution of belief has also been\ngoing on. It has not been exactly concurrent. Culture rarely or never\nevolves equally in all directions. It is a mental process, partly\nconscious, partly unconscious. The collective mind of a given society,\nlike the individual minds of which it is composed, is not exercised\nequally {98} on all subjects at the same time. Hence while, for\nexample, we find among the Euahlayi tribe, in the north of New South\nWales, an advanced theology and a more developed worship than have\nbeen recorded elsewhere in Australia, the social organization is still\non the basis of female descent; and though the clansmen eat without\nscruple their hereditary totems, in other respects the totemic system\nseems to be in full force. In the same way the Arunta and their\nneighbours certainly preserve relics of a very archaic condition of\nthought and social organization. Though for certain purposes a son\ninherits from his mother\u2019s husband, it is doubtful whether descent is\ncounted through the father for social purposes; the physical relation\nbetween father and child, indeed, is but imperfectly recognized. On\nthe other hand, they have developed a very elaborate theory of\nreincarnation, and their totemic system seems to be in course of\ntransformation into a number of societies bearing in some respects\nremarkable resemblance to those of the tribes of British\nColumbia.[98.1] Magical practices (chiefly in connection with these\nsocieties or totemic groups) are more prominent than religious.\n\nYet a closer examination will lead us to the conclusion that something\nmore than, on any definition of magic, we can call magical practices,\nsomething we must recognize as religion, albeit of a low type, is not\nwholly wanting to the natives of Central Australia. We may perhaps\ngrant that Twanyirika, with whose name the women and {99} uninitiate\nchildren are kept in awe, is a bugbear \u201cto frighten babes withal,\u201d and\nnothing more. The Kaitish and the Loritja, adjacent tribes sharing the\ngeneral culture of the Arunta, at all events believe in the real\nexistence of a superior being, who invented the initiation rites and\nis pleased when men perform them now.[99.1] Indeed, if Herr\nStrehlow\u2019s investigations are to be trusted, the Arunta themselves are\nnot destitute of belief in such a being, though we learn little about\nhim, and he has no influence on the destinies of mankind.[99.2] Among\nthe Warramunga, a tribe a little further to the north, the Wollunqua,\na gigantic mythical snake, is the object of important rites, and one\nof the totem-clans is called by its name. It dwells in a certain\nwater-hole in a lonely valley of the Murchison Range, \u201cand there is\nalways the fear that it may take it into its head to come out of its\nhiding-place and do some damage.\u201d Hence propitiation is necessary.\nThis is effected by building a mound of sandy earth and delineating on\nit a representation of the animal. \u201cThey say that when he sees the\nmound with his representation drawn upon it, he is gratified, and\nwriggles about underneath with pleasure.\u201d On the evening of the day\nsucceeding that on which the ceremonies in connection with this mound\nwere witnessed by Messrs. Spencer and Gillen, \u201cthe old men who had\nmade the mound said that they had heard the Wollunqua talking, and\nthat he was pleased with what had been done and was sending rain; the\nexplanation of which doubtless was that they, like ourselves, had\nheard thunder in the distance. No rain fell, but a few days later the\ndistant rumble of thunder was again heard at night-time; and {100}\nthis, the old men now said, was the Wollunqua growling because the\nremains of the mound had been left uncovered. They also told the\nyounger men that a heavy bank of clouds which lay on the western\nhorizon had been placed there as a warning by the Wollunqua, and at\nonce cut down boughs and hid the ruins of the mound from view, after\nwhich the Wollunqua ceased from growling, and all went on peacefully\nuntil the end of the series\u201d of ceremonies.[100.1] There are, of\ncourse, myths associated with the Wollunqua. The mound recalled one of\nthem. During its building and the ceremonies about it chants were sung\nreferring to the deeds of the Wollunqua, breaking out from time to\ntime into refrains of words, now at least meaningless, and said to\nbelong to the language of the mythical past. The name Wollunqua is\navoided in common parlance. A circumlocution is employed instead,\n\u201cbecause, so they told us, if they were to call it too often by its\nreal name, they would lose their control over it and it would come out\nand eat them all up.\u201d[100.2] How does this differ from the familiar\ntaboo of sacred names? When the explorers were taken to visit the\nWollunqua\u2019s dwelling-place (should we be wrong to call it his\nshrine?), the two chief men of the totemic group went down to the\nwater\u2019s edge and addressed him in whispers with bowed heads, praying\nhim to remain quiet and do them no harm, for they were mates of his\nand had brought up two great white men to see where he lived and to\ntell them about him. \u201cWe could plainly see that it was all very real\nto them, and that they implicitly believed that the Wollunqua was\nindeed alive beneath the water, watching them, though they could not\nsee him.\u201d[100.3] In all these rites (the details {101} of which were\ncarried out with earnestness and frequently with excitement) it can\nhardly be denied that we have the elements of a true cult. The only\none as to which any qualification could be admitted is \u201cthe savage\nattack,\u201d described as being made on the mound when the ceremony\nrelating to it was concluded. The result of it was that the figures\ndelineated on the mound were destroyed, and all that remained was a\nrough heap of sandy earth. This is represented as an attempt to\n\u201ccoerce the mythic beast.\u201d It is not quite certain that the\ninterpretation is correct, for it does not rest on native statements,\nbut is an inference of the explorers. The obliteration of sacred\nfigures drawn on sand or earth for the purpose of a rite is not\nconfined to the cult of the Wollunqua, nor even to Australia. It is\nequally found among the Pueblo tribes of North America and the\nMongolian Buddhists of Central Asia.[101.1] Its object is to hide the\nsacred symbols from the eyes of the profane. But if the interpretation\nwere correct (and it is not inconsistent with some of the expressions\nand traditions reported), it is no more than we might expect. If a\nsavage deals with the mythic figures of his imagination as he deals\nwith his fellowman, we must not be surprised that he should pass from\ncajolery to coercion, from prayer to defiance. Peoples on a much\nhigher religious horizon (as we shall see hereafter) do not hesitate\nto threaten, and even to offer violence to, the objects of their\nworship, when they are unable to obtain otherwise what they want.\n\nNor are the rites of the Wollunqua alone among these tribes in bearing\nevidence of something more than magical ceremonies, namely, of\nrudimentary worship. {102} When at the close of the initiation rites\namong the Arunta someone with a bundle of _churinga_, sacred stones or\nsticks in the shape of a bull-roarer, comes up to the newly initiated\nyouth, saying: \u201cHere is Twanyirika, of whom you have heard so much;\nthey are _churinga_ and will help to heal you quickly,\u201d[102.1]\nneither the neophyte nor his friend regards them as mere toys. The\nstatement that they will help to heal the neophyte\u2019s wounds is enough\nto show this. We must not be misled by the apparent anticlimax to\nforget that they are, throughout this group of tribes, mysterious\nobjects, marked with the emblem of the totem, and in the closest\nassociation with it; to the Arunta and Loritja they are the outward\nand visible sign, if not the embodiment, of the ancestral souls or\ninvisible portions, and as such are regarded with veneration.[102.2]\nThey are kept cunningly concealed from the eyes of the profane, hidden\nin stores which are sanctuaries, places of refuge from the pursuit of\nenemies, for men and even for wild animals. Herr Strehlow relates that\nwhen he was trying to find a native word to translate _church_, two\nbaptized Blackfellows in all seriousness suggested to him the use of\n_arknanaua_, the name of these sacred storehouses in their\ntongue.[102.3] The very word _churinga_ means, as nearly as can be\nrendered in a European tongue, hidden away, secret, appropriated,\nsacred. It is used as an adjective to describe objects employed in the\nsacred ceremonies, and the secret name bestowed on a child at birth.\nIn this connection it is {103} important to remember that the sacred\nceremonies, and in fact everything sacred, are among these tribes\nsecret also from the uninitiate. Though individuals may, at least\namong the Arunta and Loritja, have special property in their\n_churingas_, the latter are, as a whole, the collective property of\nthe totemic clan; they are under the control of the ceremonial\nheadman; their loss is the most serious evil that can befall a group;\nand even to lend them to another group, as is occasionally done for\nspecial purposes, is undertaken with the greatest solemnity and\ncaution. When returned, they are received with every mark of\nveneration, with weeping and a low, mournful chant; and both parties\nmust be strictly fasting.[103.1]\n\nThe _churinga_ are, moreover, endowed with power, with _mana_, which\nnot merely heals wounds, but when they are brought ceremonially in\ncontact with the body produces other physical, mental, and even moral\neffects. In the Kaitish tribe the performance of some ceremonies, in\nthe course of which the _churinga_ are handled, renders a man so full\nof this _mana_, or, as they call it, _churinga_, using the very word,\nthat he becomes for the time taboo.[103.2] In addition, the\n_churinga_ have virtue to make the yams and the grass-seed grow; they\nfrighten the game, or enable a man to secure it, and so forth. They\nare handled in a manner which it is no exaggeration to call devout.\nThey are polished with red ochre to \u201csoften\u201d them, a term that, as\nMessrs Spencer and Gillen remark, \u201cvery evidently points to the fact\nthat the [_churinga_] is regarded as something much more than a piece\nof wood or stone. It is intimately associated with the ancestor, and\nhas \u2018feelings,\u2019 just as human beings have, which can be soothed by\nrubbing in the same way in which those of living men can be.\u201d We\ngather that a man will sing {104} to his _churinga_, that the subject\nof his song will be the mythical story of the ancestor (or the\nprevious incarnation) to whom it belonged, and that as he sings and\nrubs it with his hand, \u201che gradually comes to feel that there is some\nspecial association between him and the sacred object--that a virtue\nof some kind passes from it to him, and also from him to it.\u201d So from\ngeneration to generation it gathers more and more of what our authors\ndescribe as magical power--what would certainly be called in Melanesia\n_mana_--the mystic potentiality already discussed.[104.1]\n\nThus the _churinga_ have to the Blackfellow a more or less definitely\npersonal aspect. It may be said that the songs chanted over them are\nafter all merely magical spells. But the spell implies some more or\nless defined personality in the objects to which it is addressed. In\nthese tribes rites are performed, called in the Arunta tongue\n_Intichiuma_, for the purpose of causing a manifestation of the power\nof the totem, of multiplying the totem-animal or plant, and generally\nof increasing the prosperity of the totem. In the course of these\nrites there is much singing. The members of the group invite the\nwitchetty grubs to come from all directions and lay their eggs, or the\nhakea-trees to flower and their blossoms to fill with honey; they beg\nthe rain to come and bring fish; they direct the kangaroos to go from\none place to another; and so on. Even when the songs and the actions\nperformed in the ceremonies recall the events of the mythical past,\nthey are not necessarily more magical than the words of sacred dramas,\nwhich everywhere in the lower culture inseparably interweave what we\ngenerally speak of as magic and religion. The mighty ancestors (as\nelsewhere {105} the gods) whose deeds they chant are present in the\nrite. \u201cThe totem, the ancestor, and the descendant (that is to say,\nthe performer) appear in these songs as one. Without keeping in view\nthe indivisible unity of the totem, the mythic ancestor and the\noffspring (_ratapa_), many of the songs are quite\nincomprehensible.\u201d[105.1] Thus where invitation or command is not\nissued directly to the object, the _mana_ of the ancestors seems to be\nevoked for the accomplishment of the end.\n\nAgain, so far from the Arunta medicine-men being practitioners of\nanything analogous to modern science, they are initiated by, and their\npower is derived from, the spirits. These spirits are believed to put\nthe candidate to death, to carry him down into their abode, and there\nto take out his internal organs, replacing them with a new set,\nplanting in his body a supply of magical crystals by which all his\nsubsequent wonders will be performed, and then bringing him to life\nagain. He remains, however, in a condition of insanity for some days.\nIt is true that an imitation of this process can be performed by\nmedicine-men of flesh and blood; but candidates thus initiated have a\nlower repute (save apparently among the Warramunga) than those\ninitiated directly by the spirits. The crystals are in any case the\nhome and symbol of the magician\u2019s powers. They are in fact full of\n_mana_. If they be lost, the magician ceases to be a magician, and the\ncrystals themselves return to the spirits. All over Australia, so far\nas we know, the same influence is attributed to them.[105.2] On the\neastern side of the continent, where something like a tribal\nAll-Father {106} is believed in, he is regarded, like Odin, as the\nmightiest of magicians, and the crystals are, as well as the\nbull-roarer, among his special attributes. Let me observe too in\npassing that it is not a little significant that, as in the witchcraft\nof Europe and Africa, portions of dead bodies are in great request in\nAustralia for magical purposes. The \u201cpointing bone,\u201d to which I\nreferred just now, is part of a dead man\u2019s leg or arm. A portion of\nhis personality inheres in it. Consequently, even before it is \u201csung,\u201d\nit is endowed with his _mana_, which the singing only enhances and\ndirects in its course.[106.1] For the same reason human fat and a\ndead man\u2019s hair are important parts of the Australian native\u2019s magical\napparatus.\n\nThe initiation of the medicine-man or magician by spirits, often the\nspirits of the dead, is practically the universal belief in Australia.\nIn this respect the Australian medicine-man is in line with many of\nhis professional brethren elsewhere. In the island of Saghalien the\nGilyak shamans are chosen vessels, to whom their tutelary gods reveal\ntheir high calling in vision or in trance. From the moment that this\nis done the gods install themselves as the new shaman\u2019s assistants and\nperform his commands. Yet shamanhood is not regarded as a gift, but as\na burden. To become a shaman, either a man must find favour with one\nof these assistant tutelary gods, or such a god must be bestowed upon\nhim by his father or uncle. Conversion into a shaman forms a break in\nthe life of the chosen, accompanied by many complicated psychical\nphenomena. The process in his own case was described by a shaman to a\nRussian anthropologist. For more than two months he was sick and lay\nwithout movement or consciousness. As soon {107} as he revived from\none attack he fell under another. \u201cI should have died,\u201d he said, \u201cif I\nhad not become a shaman.\u201d He began to dream at night that he sang\nshaman songs. Visions appeared to him, and he was told to make a drum\nand the proper apparatus of a shaman, and to sing. If he were a simple\nman, the vision told him, nothing would happen; \u201cbut if thou art a\nshaman, be a real shaman.\u201d When he awoke he found that it was thought\nthe spirits had killed him, and preparations for his funeral rites had\nbeen made. But he got a drum and began to sing. This produced a\nfeeling which hovered between intoxication and death. Then for the\nfirst time he saw his tutelary gods, and received from them\ninstruction in his business as a shaman.[107.1] Among the Koryak on\nthe adjacent continent, \u201cnobody can become a shaman of his own free\nwill. The spirits enter into any person they may choose and force him\nto become their servant.\u201d Such persons are \u201cusually nervous young men,\nsubject to hysterical fits, by means of which the spirits express\ntheir demand\u201d that the patient shall become a shaman. Fasting,\nparoxysms, exhaustion succeed one another. Finally, the spirits appear\nto the patient in visible form, endow him with power, inspire and\ninstruct him.[107.2] In other words, they fill him with their _mana_.\n\nHere we have manifestly the wide-spread phenomena of Possession. In\nthese tribes there are no professional priests. The magicians, though\nin a sense the intermediaries between men and the higher powers, are\nnot charged with the duty of offering sacrifice and prayer. In South\nAfrica, among the Bantu tribes, also, there are {108} no professional\npriests. Ancestor-worship is the religion; and the only worship paid\nis paid to the _manes_ of the dead. The proper person to offer\nsacrifices is the head of the family for the time being. But\nmedicine-men or magicians form a regular profession, which is divided\ninto a number of branches. For some of these branches initiation by\nthe spirits of the dead is not necessary. For others it is\nindispensable. Frequently, however, the same man combines the practice\nof several branches of the art. All who practise openly are recognized\nas White Wizards, exercising their powers for the wellbeing of\nsociety, in defence of the established order. Yet these very men\nsometimes boast of being _baloyi_, a term by which evil wizards are\ngenerally known. They claim to be more powerful than ordinary wizards,\nable to discover and baffle their tricks, and to kill. Moreover, there\nare good _baloyi_, who use their power to bless. They are sometimes\nsent by ancestral spirits to increase the produce of the fields, and\nthen they are said to have bewitched the fields to make them bring\nforth more fruit. Thus it is clear that a hard and fast line cannot be\ndrawn between the social and the antisocial magicians, at least among\nsome of the Bantu tribes. One of the chief branches of the profession\nis that of exorcist. Now no man can set up as an exorcist without\nhaving been himself possessed by the spirits and exorcised. This is\nindeed the regular method of initiation, for a man is not merely\nrestored to ordinary life by exorcism; he is also aggregated to the\nsociety of magicians; he enters a new life; he becomes a neophyte\namong the practitioners, and must undergo further probation which may\nresult in his becoming more than an exorcist--he may become\nclairvoyant or a diviner, a prophet or a worker of marvels; he may\ncure diseases or cause the rain to fall. Many practitioners {109}\nprofess more than one of these accomplishments; the most distinguished\nprofess several.[109.1]\n\nHow far the phenomena of possession are voluntary need not here be\ndiscussed. The Zulu or Xosa patient (if we may call him so) becomes\nsickly and abstinent; he distinguishes himself by dreams and visions,\nand begins to talk of his intercourse with spirits of the dead; he\nbecomes \u201ca house of dreams\u201d; he is hysterical; he sings; he behaves as\nthough he were out of his mind; he is possessed by an _Itongo_, an\nancestral spirit. Then he is admitted to the society of the magicians\nand receives instruction from them. Finally, he is accounted a new\ncreature, whose intercourse with spirits and share in their\nsupernatural powers is recognized by everyone.[109.2]\n\nAmong the Ngombe in the Northern Congo basin, we are told, \u201cthe ghosts\ncall [to the man] from the bowels of the earth. He goes into the\ngrave, underground, and stays there four months. When the four months\nare finished he comes forth, rubs himself with camwood and dances,\ncontorting his body.\u201d This seems to be the neophyte\u2019s only preparation\nfor the office of _nganga_. After that, according to the same\nauthority, \u201cwhenever a man is sick he is carried by others to the\n_nganga_. They accompany him to the man of ghosts. He looks at the\nbody, then recites to the spirit. They lift up the man and go out. All\nthe people dance, and he who is afflicted with sickness is brought to\nthe doctor for medicine.\u201d[109.3]\n\nOn the North American continent the medicine-man was not \u201cpossessed,\u201d\nas among the Siberian tribes and the Bantu; but his mode of initiation\nwas similar. The {110} Ojibway sorcerer after prolonged fasting was\ninitiated by the supernatural powers.[110.1] Among many of the\nCalifornian tribes \u201ca spirit, be it that of an animal, a place, the\nsun or other natural object, a deceased relative or an entirely\nunembodied spirit, visits the future medicine-man in his dreams, and\nthe connection thus established between them is the source and basis\nof the latter\u2019s power. This spirit becomes his guardian spirit or\n\u2018personal.\u2019 From it he receives the song or rite or knowledge of the\ncharm, and the understanding which enable him to cause or remove\ndisease, and to do and endure what other men cannot.\u201d[110.2] The\nSkidi Pawnee is allured to the abode of the mysterious animal-powers,\nand there taught their knowledge and gifted with their powers; or he\nis visited by a supernatural being in dreams for the same\npurpose.[110.3]\n\nAmong the Sea Dyaks of Borneo \u201cthere are two descriptions of _manangs_\n[shamans], the regular and the irregular. The regular are those who\nhave been called to that vocation by dreams, and to whom the spirits\nhave revealed themselves. The irregular are self-created and without a\nfamiliar spirit.\u201d It is not enough for the _manang_ simply to say\n\u201cthat he feels himself called; he must prove to his friends that he is\nable to commune with the spirits; and in proof of this he will\noccasionally abstain from food and indulge in trances, from which he\nwill awake with all the tokens of one possessed by a devil, foaming at\nthe mouth and talking incoherently.\u201d[110.4] One of the ways to \u201cget\nmagic\u201d among the Malays is to meet the ghost of a murdered man. In\norder to do this a {111} ceremony must be performed at the grave on a\nTuesday at full moon. The aspirant calls upon the deceased for help,\nand states his request. Ultimately an aged man appears, to whom the\nrequest is repeated; and it would seem that the suppliant gets what he\nwants.[111.1]\n\nIn Europe the dominant religion has proscribed witchcraft with terrors\nspiritual and physical, which have emphasized its separation and\nintensified its spiritual aspect. The judicial records are full of\nstories of initiation to the Black Art that begin by the formal\nrenunciation of Christian worship and baptism. The novice tramples\nupon symbols of the Christian faith, or otherwise treats them with\nindignity. He utters incantations with appropriate rites to call up\nthe devil. That gentleman then appears to receive his formal\nprofession of allegiance, admit him ceremonially into his band of\nworshippers, and tutor him in the methods of his art. That the\nconfessions of this procedure were not wholly imaginary, and dictated\nby the orthodox functionaries who examined the tortured victim, is\nrendered probable from the fact that down to the present day, in many\ncontinental countries, if not in the British Islands, the peasant\nwitch enters upon her trade by a rite recalling its main features.\n\nIt would be easy to expand the list. Enough has, however, been said to\nshow that over a wide area of the world and in the most various stages\nof civilization what we call supernatural beings are concerned with\nthe preparation of the magician\u2019s career, and that the Arunta beliefs\ndo not differ in this respect from those current among many other\npeoples. In none of the foregoing cases does the shaman or magician as\nsuch exercise the functions of priest. He offers no sacrifices, he\naddresses no prayers on behalf of the community to the divinities.\n{112} He performs wonders by the aid of the spirits; but the spirits\nwho first invade and then help him are by no means everywhere those\nwho are the object of worship. It is not my intention to discuss the\npsychological and physiological aspects of the phenomena. They recall\nthe phenomena of \u201cconversion\u201d among ourselves. Occurring, as they\nusually do, at or shortly after the commencement of adult life, they\ndisplay the effervescence of puberty, accentuated by the neurotic\npeculiarities of the individual, acted upon, directed and controlled\nby the social environment. As in the case of \u201cconversion,\u201d too, they\nare liable to become epidemic, particularly at times of social and\npolitical crisis, where feeling in the tribe is more than commonly\nexcited.\n\nBefore passing away from the subject we may turn to a different type\nof shaman. Among the Veddas the shaman is in effect the priest. The\nspirits to whom offerings are made are those of the dead. It is the\nshaman who makes the offering, and performs the invocation; and he is\nin return possessed by them. But here the novice is chosen and trained\nby one who already exercises the profession. He does not become\npossessed in his capacity as novice. Possession only takes place at\nthe public ceremonies; it is temporary; and it may affect others\nbesides the shaman. The position of shaman is practically hereditary,\nfor the novice trained is usually the shaman\u2019s son, or his sister\u2019s\nson, that is to say, his actual or potential son-in-law. The Veddas\nare on a level of civilization as low as the Arunta. Though they do\nnot practise rites of such senseless and revolting cruelty, in their\nnatural condition and apart from external influence they live entirely\nby hunting and the collection of honey; they build no huts, but take\nadvantage of caves and rock-shelters; their pottery is of the roughest\ndescription; {113} and the iron arrowheads, axes and other implements\nwhich they possess are obtained by barter from the Sinhalese, for they\ndo not exercise the art of smithying. The lowest and wildest of them,\nhowever, know nothing of hostile magic. Even protective magic is\nhardly practised; and the charms they make use of appear to be derived\nfrom the neighbouring Sinhalese. It is true they have traditions that\nit used to be customary to seek strength and confidence to avenge\ninsults by chewing a small dried piece of the liver of a man who had\nbeen killed for the purpose. This is an application of a well-known\nmagical principle.[113.1] But, so far as our information goes, it is\na solitary case. If therefore the Vedda shaman is not initiated by the\nspirits, it is not because the Veddas have not yet passed out of the\nage of magic. If there be an age of magic in which religion is\nunknown, for aught that appears they have not yet passed into it. At\nall events they cannot be said to confirm the generalization that\nmagic precedes religion; for magical practices once adopted persist\nwith remarkable tenacity into the highest planes of culture.\n\nThere is, finally, an example of a functionary occupying an ambiguous\nposition as priest or magician, at which we may glance for a moment.\nThe Mincopies of the Andaman Islands, before the arrival of strangers\nin modern times, were, like the Arunta, living in the Stone Age. They\nhad no agriculture; their food was supplied by the chase, or the\nsearch for insects, roots, and honey. They had indeed learned to build\nhuts; and they had the use of fire, but they were ignorant how to\nproduce it. They are divided into local tribes, ruled by elected\nchiefs with very limited power. The chiefs acquire such authority as\nthey have by their skill in hunting and fishing {114} and their\nreputation for generosity and hospitality; and it is on these\nqualifications that social status mainly depends. Social and political\norganization is therefore, as well as religion, in a somewhat\nrudimentary stage. Nor is magic more advanced than religion. The only\npersons who exercise any magical or religious functions are called by\nthe title of _oko-paiad_, or Dreamer. Such a man obtains his position\nby relating an extraordinary dream foreshadowing some future event,\nwhich afterwards happens. Since these practitioners are credited with\nthe power of communicating in dreams with the spirits, it may be\npresumed that the initial dream is in the nature of a \u201ccall\u201d by them.\nThe _oko-paiad_ does not seem to be subject to possession by the\nspirits; but he is believed to have powers of second sight and a\nmysterious influence over the fortunes and lives of his neighbours. He\nis therefore the constant recipient of presents, which are in effect\nbribes for his favour. Our information concerning his proceedings is\nof the scantiest description. It does not extend to any active attempt\nat magical interference with the fate or the actions of others.\nPerhaps we may conclude that any interference he may be held to\nexercise is confined to his intercourse in dreams with the spirits.\nHowever this may be, his only recorded overt acts are on the\noccurrence of an epidemic, when \u201che brandishes a burning log, and bids\nthe evil spirit keep at a distance.\u201d Sometimes as a further precaution\nhe plants stakes in front of each hut, and smears them in stripes with\nblack beeswax, the smell of which, being peculiarly offensive to the\ndemon, ensures his speedy departure.[114.1] If any inference can be\ndrawn from this account it hardly seems to favour the priority of the\nevolution of magic over religion; for the _oko-paiad_, {115} if not\ninitiated by the spirits, is essentially one who is in communication\nwith them, and who exercises his powers not merely against individuals\n(of which there is no direct evidence), but in favour of them and of\nthe community.\n\nThe conclusion is that there is no solid and convincing proof of the\ndevelopment of magic prior to religion. If the Mincopies, the Veddas,\nand the tribes of Central Australia fail us, whither shall we turn for\nevidence?\n\nYet there is a consideration generally applicable to savage life that\nmust not be overlooked here. Vague, uncertain, and contradictory as\nthe savage may be in his beliefs, sluggish as his mind may be in\nregard to matters of speculation,--in matters of practical importance,\nthe provision of food and shelter, the protection of his women and\nchildren, and the defence of his little community against aggression\nby human foes or the wild beasts, he is bound to be on the alert and\nto act. His wits are therefore sharpened for action. Action is natural\nto him; thought which has no immediate objective in action is strange.\nThe energies remaining when the body is satisfied with food, when\nshelter is assured, and hostilities against his fellow-man or the\nlower animals are for the moment forgotten, must be expended in other\nkinds of action. Bodily recreation--play--satisfies this craving for\nmovement and excitement, while at the same time it fulfils the useful\npurpose (albeit unconsciously to him) of keeping his faculties, bodily\nand mental, ready and supple, and of training them still further for\nmore directly practical ends. This form of activity, organized into\ndances and games, easily begets ritual. The Hottentots danced all\nnight at full moon with extravagant gestures, saluting the moon and\ninvoking her for cattle-fodder and milk.[115.1] The Wichita of {116}\nNorth America played every year in the spring a game of shinny, which\nrepresented, there can be little doubt, the contest of winter and\nspring.[116.1] In such cases as these, and they are legion, a\nrecreation has been indulged in at a period appropriate for it--the\ndance in the clear, cool night, the game under the mild returning\nwarmth and stimulating influences of the early spring. Because it thus\nnaturally recurs at definite times it comes to be regarded as proper,\neven necessary: it develops into a rite. To a similar game played by\nthe Omaha was attached, in the phrase of the writers who describe it,\n\u201ca cosmic significance.\u201d[116.2] The impulse to movement, to exertion,\nliberates emotion; the emotion is in turn intensified by its\ncollective expression; and this intensification would lead to the\nconviction that the expression has somehow or other in itself an\ninfluence on external nature, just as it would have in human\nrelations. The exact mechanism by which it acted probably would not\ntrouble the savage at an early stage. Later, it would be fitted into\nthe framework of his ideas. The Hottentot rite came to be addressed to\nthe moon. The Wichita rite seems to have been thought to assist\ndirectly in conquest of the evil power of winter and the renewal of\nlife.\n\nBut we may go further back still. I have referred to the make-believe\nthat is a relief to overcharged feelings. Emotional stress is felt at\ntimes by everybody, be he savage or civilized. It causes a reaction,\nmore or less powerful in proportion to the magnitude of the cause or\nthe excitability of the person who undergoes it. It is expressed in\nacts sometimes of the wildest extravagance, sometimes rhythmic and\npartially controlled. These acts are spontaneous, automatic.\nRecurrence of the emotional stress would tend to be accompanied by\nrepetition of the {117} acts in which the reaction had been previously\nexpressed. If the recurrence were sufficiently frequent, the form of\nthe reaction would become a habit to be repeated on similar occasions,\neven where the stress was less vivid or almost absent. It can hardly\nbe doubted that many rites owe their existence to such reactions. The\nPawnees, like the Wichita, a tribe belonging to the Caddoan stock of\nNorth America, summoned with song and dance and other elaborate rites\nthe buffaloes which were the mainstay of their existence. Everything\ndepended--sustenance, provision of clothing and tents and all other\nnecessaries, hence the very continuance of the tribal life--on the\nbuffaloes. Their movements about the great central plains of the\ncontinent were mysterious. The true causes were unknown; the course\nwas not predicable with certainty. Accordingly, the period of\nexpectation while the people were awaiting the advent of the herd was\none of great emotional tension. It was relieved by a series of acts,\noriginally automatic, or quasi-automatic, which would gradually assume\nmore and more definitely the calling and enticement of the expected\nherd. This form of reaction to the particular stress would become\nhabitual. It would end as a solemn rite, which was believed to have a\npowerful influence in bringing the animals and effecting a\nsatisfactory capture. The _orenda_ of the performers, expressed in the\nmanner consecrated by tradition, would then be held to exercise a\ncompelling power.[117.1]\n\nTo such an origin must be ascribed the rehearsal of a battle that\ntakes place in many savage tribes before {118} the warriors go forth\non a raid, and the dances and other ceremonies accomplished by women\nleft at home when their husbands are absent fighting or hunting. More\nobviously must it be held responsible for a variety of other\nperformances, of which the common spell in this country and on the\ncontinent of Europe, to recover an article stolen or the waning\naffections of a lover, is a type. The love-lorn maiden takes some\nobject, frequently a shoulder-bone of lamb, and sticks a knife or a\npin into it, saying:\n\n \u201c\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 with me to speak.\u201d\n\nOf spells like this the preparation of an effigy, and the assaults\nupon it representing acts done to the person for whom the effigy\nstands, are an elaboration. The overcharged emotion first of all finds\na vent in an attack upon any convenient object. Then from various\ncauses a special object is singled out as the appropriate vehicle of\nthe performer\u2019s wrath, hatred or jealousy, the act gradually becomes\nmore solemn and deliberate, and a formal rite is evolved.\n\nIt should hardly be necessary to say that it is not claimed that the\nforegoing paragraphs explain the genesis of all rites. But that many\ndo thus originate accords with all we know of human nature. In any\ncase a rite was not instituted because men were previously convinced\nof its efficacy. The primitive savage may have been a man of\npreternatural stupidity; but even he would not have been equal to\nputting the cart before the horse in that fashion. The rite must have\nbeen an established habit before a conscious meaning filtered into it.\nInterpretation would be a gradual process. If the rite were shared\n{119} by the social group, and by expansion or accretion attained\nsufficient importance, the interpretation might take the form of a\nmyth. The myth in turn would contribute to the stability of the rite,\nby means of the sacred character it would affix to it, or the\nreminiscence of an ancient experience it would be supposed to embody.\n\nThus ritual, religious or magical, is evolved long before belief has\nbecome definite and cogent. It may emerge from what I may style the\nmere surface of human nature, from necessities mainly physical, from\ndirect nervous reaction. It may, on the other hand, have roots in the\nsocial relations of mankind. The savage naturally, habitually--I might\nalmost say instinctively--applies the forms of social life to his\nrelations with his non-human surroundings. Presumably, as we have\nseen, primitive man in his rough way did likewise.\n\nBut this affords no argument for holding that magic preceded religion.\nRites are not necessarily magical because they are not addressed to\ndefined personalities. They may be yet inchoate. Not until reflection\nhas begun to clarify in some degree man\u2019s relation to his environment\n(a slow and tedious process, slowest and most tedious of all in the\nearly stages) can we reckon them satisfactorily under the one head or\nthe other. If I am right in contending that magic and religion flow\nfrom a common source, rites may remain for generations in an\nindecisive condition which is neither, but may crystallize in either\nshape according to the specific occasion, the environment, or the\ndominant mental and institutional tendency of the social group. Such a\ntransformation will be gradual and piecemeal, and in large part, if\nnot entirely, unconscious. Many things done \u201cfor luck,\u201d even in the\nhigher civilizations, are {120} still in this indeterminate state. The\nintellectual atmosphere is unfavourable; their development is\narrested, probably for ever. I suspect that an accurate appreciation\nof the Intichiuma rites practised by the Arunta and their neighbours\nwould show that they too are not finally to be assigned to either\ncategory.\n\nThe part played by society in the generation of religion demands some\nfurther observations. From whatever type of anthropoid ape man has\nbeen evolved, it is safe to believe that he has from the first lived\nin communities. But for this he could have made no progress, if even\nhe could have existed as man. The condition of the solitary apes is\nincapable of improvement. It is incredible that if rudimentary human\nbeings had lived like them in a group consisting at the utmost of a\nmale, female, and still dependent young, they would ever have emerged\ninto humanity, or that if they had emerged they would have been able\nto hold their own against the foes that surrounded them. The lowest\nhuman beings are never found solitary. If they wander on the\nfood-quest, or are driven away from higher and more powerful\nsocieties, they do not fail to come together at certain times to enjoy\nthe companionship of their fellows, to exchange experiences, to plan\nhunts or raids, to perform rites in common and partake of common\npleasures. This implies organization. In fact, such communities, when\nthey meet and live the communal life, are not found to be a mere\nincoherent congeries of individuals. They are true societies,\norganized, some more, some less closely, on a definite plan, in which\nevery individual has his place. The Australian natives have evolved\nsocial institutions of proverbial complexity. The Bushmen of South\nAfrica, persecuted and broken by intrusive races, have left us on the\nwalls of the caverns they haunted representations {121} marvellous in\ntheir skill of ceremonies apparently totemic. And if this\ninterpretation of the drawings be doubtful, such remains as have been\npreserved of their traditions afford evidence of an organization by no\nmeans contemptible. The Seri of the Californian Gulf, perhaps on a\nstill lower plane of civilization, and certainly leading their life in\nmore miserable surroundings, are divided into clans and furnished with\na social hierarchy built up on a reverence for women almost chivalrous\nin its type.[121.1]\n\nThe existence everywhere of organized societies implies the paramount\ninfluence of the community over the individual. Nor is that influence\nonly a matter of implication. Abundant evidence is found of the\ncontrol wielded by society over the actions and the very thoughts of\nits members. The individual is nothing: the group is everything. As\nProfessor Durkheim remarks, every society exercises power over its\nmembers, power physical and above all moral. It keeps them in a\nsensation of perpetual dependence. It is distinct from the individuals\nwho compose it, and consequently its interests are distinct from\ntheirs. But as it cannot attain its ends except through and by means\nof the individual, it makes an imperious claim on his assistance,\nexacting it even to the sacrifice of his inclinations and interests.\nThus at every moment we are obliged to submit to rules of conduct and\nof thought which we have neither made nor wished to make, and which\nmay even be contrary to our most fundamental instincts.[121.2]\n\nIn these days and among civilized societies, when individualism is so\nstrongly developed in thought and action, we are apt to forget to what\nan extent religion is an expression of the social organization. An\neminent {122} Oxford professor, not long ago deceased, used to say\nthat religion was a social secretion. That may be an excellent way to\nphrase the relations between society and religion in modern Europe. It\nis a very incomplete account of them as they exist on the Australian\nsteppe or in the forests of Brazil. In the lower culture religion is\nmuch more than a social secretion: it is one aspect of the social\norganization, inseparable from the rest. The organization cannot be\nunderstood without it--nay, it cannot exist apart from it. In these\nsocieties every member has his position and takes his share in\nreligious rites. Whatever his place in the social scale, he is on the\nsame level of knowledge, he shares in the same beliefs, with his\nfellows. The mental atmosphere of each is charged with the same\nelectric fluid, which communicates itself to all alike. Especially on\nthe occasions of reunion its action is intensified, frequently\nresulting in excitement, in vehement exaltation, translated into the\nwildest and most extravagant actions. But these reunions are not\nmerely social, they are religious festivals. For religion pervades\nevery thought and deed both of the individual and of the community. It\nbinds the members together as no other force could do. The power of\nsociety over the individual is the power of religion. For religion is\nnot as yet distinguished from politics, from law, from medicine, or\nfrom other forms of social activity that in our stage of culture have\nlong vindicated their freedom.\n\nReligion has therefore grown up with society. Its form has changed\nwith the changing forms of society. It cannot be said to be generated\nby society, inasmuch as it is coeval with it. The very mould in which\na society in the lower stages of culture is cast is religious. Church\nand State are of necessity coterminous, equivalent, {123} one. But\nthis evolution must of necessity have taken time. The inchoate society\nof half-human beings would have had a correspondingly vague and\ninchoate religion. As intelligence grew, the bonds of the horde would\ngather strength, what we may call public opinion would become more and\nmore definite with the gradual acquisition of speech, until at last\nman emerged in something like a regularly ordered community. It is\ndifficult for us to imagine the steps of this long process, by which,\nwith society, what we call religion was evolved. I have tried in an\nearlier chapter to sketch the external conditions that would have\nimpressed humanity in its dawn. These external conditions would have\ndriven the individual more and more in upon the group, and thus would\nhave materially contributed to the conscious formation of common\ninterests founded upon the common need of material help, of sympathy,\nand of relief from anxiety and terror, whether of actual or imagined\ndanger. The formation of common interests must have been accompanied\nby the increasing subordination of the individual to the group. In the\nextension of the authority of the group over the individual it is that\nM. Durkheim finds the origin of the idea of the impersonal force which\nthe Omaha call _wakonda_. The idea, as I have shown, lies at the root\nof the religious conceptions of peoples in more than one vast cultural\narea. That such authority of the group, necessarily impersonal as it\nis, would operate to strengthen the concept of a general impersonal\nforce, when once that concept had been formed, there can be no\nquestion. To ascribe to it the origin of the concept, however, seems\nto me an unwarranted inference. It is more probable that the conflict\nof the Personal and the Impersonal should arise in the awakening mind\nas the result of its outlook upon {124} the world. The whole\nenvironment does not present a personal aspect at once. As\npersonalities grow into relative definiteness one after another, there\nremains behind them the Unknown, full of vague possibilities,\nimpersonal, but the source of personalities, which are for ever\nlooming forth as the attention is concentrated on successive objects.\nSince it is the source of personalities, it is the source of power,\nmysterious and far-reaching, everywhere enveloping the beholder. It is\ntrue this power, in order to become effectual, must clothe itself with\npersonal attributes. That, however, is not because it is formed on\nexperience of the authority of the group acting by individuals, but\nbecause personalization is the inevitable tendency of the mind.\n\nProfessor Durkheim\u2019s theory of religion is exhibited in detail only in\none type. He speaks of \u201cthe aptitude of society to erect itself into a\ngod or to create gods\u201d;[124.1] but he illustrates his thesis only in\nthe case of totemism, which he takes as an example of the religion of\nthe least advanced people hitherto thoroughly examined. He is careful\nto say that the question whether totemism has been more or less\nwidespread is of secondary importance; it is at all events the most\nprimitive and the simplest religion it is possible to reach.[124.2]\nBut his whole argument, if it prove anything, goes to show the\nuniversality of totemism. For the idea of the soul, according to the\ndata of ethnography, appears to him to have been coeval with humanity,\nand that not merely in germ but in all its essential characters; and\nthe soul is nothing else than the totemic principle incarnated in each\nindividual, a portion of the collective soul of the group, that is to\nsay of the totem, individualized.[124.3] Now totemism is certainly a\nvery archaic form of religion. That it was universal {125} is,\nhowever, very far from being demonstrated. It may well be that many\nbranches of the human race have outgrown it, and that its traces have\nbeen obliterated. But among peoples very low down in culture there are\nmany where it is unknown, or at least unrecognizable. It is more than\npossible, could we ascertain the facts, that Bushman society was\norganized on the basis of totemism. But there are other tribes no\nhigher than Bushmen and Australian Blackfellows where we fail to\ndiscern it. The Veddas of Ceylon are indeed divided into clans with\nfemale descent. Yet no totem has emerged after the most careful\nenquiries. Their religion is essentially a cult of the dead, based on\nfear. The dead man is addressed as \u201cLord! New Driver-away of Vaeddas!\u201d\nSacrifices are offered and eaten as an act of communion with the\ndeceased. In addition to the dead of the local group, \u201ccertain\nlong-dead Veddas who may be regarded as legendary heroes\u201d are invoked,\nof whom the most important are Kande Yaka, an ancient hunter whose\nassistance is implored for good hunting, and his brother Bilindi Yaka,\na sort of pale double of himself. But they are not known among all the\nVedda communities, though Kande is regarded by some as Lord or leader\nof the dead. There are also other spirits, who appear to be of foreign\norigin and superimposed upon the original cult of the dead, and are\nperhaps on their way to become nature-spirits.[125.1] The religion of\nthe Andaman Islanders \u201cconsists of fear of the evil spirits of the\nwood, the sea, disease and ancestors, and of avoidance of acts\ntraditionally displeasing to them.\u201d There is besides an\nanthropomorphic being, Puluga, who is said to be \u201cthe cause of all\nthings.\u201d He receives no active worship, though acts thought to be\ndispleasing to him are avoided \u201cfor fear of damage to {126} the\nproducts of the jungle.\u201d There is some evidence that he is the\nnorth-east wind; and Sir R. C. Temple is of opinion that he is\n\u201cfundamentally, with some definiteness, identifiable with the storm,\nmixed up with ancestral chiefs.\u201d He acts by his daughters, the\nMorowin, who are his messengers; but he seems to content himself with\npointing out to the evil spirits offenders against himself, without\nactually taking steps against them.[126.1] Totemism is nowhere hinted\nat by the enquirers who have busied themselves with this childlike,\nand on the whole harmless, but somewhat capricious people.\n\nStill very low in the scale of civilization, though somewhat higher\nthan these, are the tribes of the interior forests of Brazil. They\npeople their environment with imaginary beings more or less hostile.\nThe object of their ceremonies appears to be to conciliate the favour\nof these gentry, or to hold them at arm\u2019s length. When once the\ndeath-rites are completed little account is taken of the departed. So\nmuch we may gather from the reports of two German expeditions, written\nby distinguished scientific men who led the expeditions. Although they\npenetrated different parts of the country, there was a general\nresemblance between the civilization of the Indians met with by both\nexplorers. A French anthropologist has remarked that English and\nGerman observers do not interest themselves to the same degree, or in\nthe same way, in the social life of peoples in the lower culture; for\nwhereas the German explorers by preference describe, and that with\npraiseworthy minuteness, the nature of the country and the material\ncivilization of the people, the English, on the other hand, interest\nthemselves more in the intellectual products, the traditions and\nbeliefs. In other words, he said, the German is {127} more of an\nethnographer, the Englishman more of a student of folklore and\npsychologist. There is perhaps a measure of truth in this remark. It\nmay go far to explain why more distinct and definite accounts have not\nbeen given either by Professor Karl von den Steinen or Dr Theodor\nKoch-Gr\u00fcnberg of the religions of the aboriginal tribes of Brazil. In\nany case, we miss much that we should have expected to find in their\nreports on the religious beliefs and ceremonies of these tribes. Among\nthe omissions is that of any mention of totemism--an institution which\nconcerns organization and government as much as religion. What renders\nthe omission significant in the case of Professor von den Steinen, and\nnot merely the result of want of interest in the subject, is that he\nhas taken pains to ascertain and record the attitude of the natives\ntowards the lower animals. He makes it clear that they draw no strict\nline of demarcation between man and brute. Nay, he goes the length of\nsaying that we must think the boundary completely away. Human beings\nare indebted to the lower animals for the most important elements of\ntheir culture, many of which they have acquired from them by force or\nguile. More than that, the Boror\u00f3 claim to be actually _araras_ (a\nkind of bird with brilliant red plumage); their neighbours the Trumai\nare believed to be water-animals; a certain cannibal tribe is\ndescended from the jaguar; and so forth. These beliefs are not\ntotemic, for they concern not clans but whole tribes.[127.1]\nApparently, therefore, there is no totemism among the wild\nforest-tribes investigated.\n\nIf the concept of the soul (which, it is needless to say, all these\npeoples possess) were coeval with humanity, and if it were only the\ntotemic principle individualized, then totemism must have been coeval\nwith humanity, and it {128} must have been universal. If so, it is at\nleast curious that the Veddas, the Andaman Islanders, and the\nforest-tribes of Brazil--all of them on the horizon of civilization on\nwhich totemism is found--should display no traces of it. If the\nconcept of impersonal force, the substratum of religious and magical\nbeliefs, be derived from the authority of society over the individual,\nand not merely strengthened and developed by it, it is odd that\nreligious and magical beliefs should, so low down in culture, have\nissued in such widely divergent forms. The worship of the dead, the\nconciliation of hostile nature-spirits, the fear of an anthropomorphic\nbeing of enormous power, are all explicable as the result of the\naction of external conditions on human mentality and emotions. They\nare not explicable as the direct product of the authority of the group\nover the individual. And if totemism had originally held sway over the\nVeddas, the Mincopies and the Brazilian tribes, it is not easy to\nconceive how it could have evolved in directions so diverse,--and that\nwithout leaving any authentic witness to its past. It is quite another\nthing if the action of the group had been rather to combine and\nconsolidate, to intensify and to organize the sensations and emotions\nawakened in its members by external nature, to give them a measure of\ndefiniteness in the process, and to habituate the individual to\ncertain modes of reaction to the sensations, and to certain forms of\nexpression of the beliefs engendered by the emotions thus awakened.\n\n\n\n\n IV. Divergence\n\nIn the foregoing pages I have attempted to trace Magic and Religion to\na common root. We have found them inextricably intertwined very low\ndown in culture; {129} we have seen the difficulty of distinguishing\nthem by way of scientific definition, and have been forced back upon\nordinary usage. Both alike are concerned with the supernatural and the\nuncanny; but the one deals with it by compulsion, by the direct\nexertion of human _orenda_ upon the objects sought to be constrained,\nthe other by the indirect method of appeal to mightier powers than\nhuman to exercise their _orenda_ upon those objects, in order to\nobtain the result desired. And I have contended that the opposition of\nMagic and Religion, on which writers of authority like Professor\nFrazer and the late Sir Alfred Lyall have so much insisted, is so far\nfrom being essential that it is a result of their concurrent\ndevelopment and of the general advance of civilization, and is even\nyet imperfectly accomplished. The argument seems to require some\nfurther illustrations.\n\nFirst, let me observe that the definition of magic here adopted does\nby no means coincide with that of Professor Frazer, though, like his,\nit rests upon the method of compulsion as the distinguishing\ncharacteristic. That, however, is not because of any faith by primeval\nman in the invariable order of nature or in the inevitable sequence of\ncause and effect. The compulsion of magic, as I understand it, is\nwielded by, and dependent upon, the personal _orenda_ of the magician,\neither directly or through the medium of the powerful and uncanny\nbeings whom he succeeds in bringing into play.\n\nThe idea of a god in our minds is associated with a reverential\nattitude that is very far from being universally adopted. In a later\nessay we shall see that threats of bodily injury, even (in the\nlegends) actual hand-to-hand combats, and (in fact) chastisement of\nthe material representatives of divinity, are often regarded as quite\nappropriate measures to be taken in dealing with beings {130} who are\nordinarily the objects of worship. I have already referred to the\nconstraining power attributed to sacrifice and other rites in some of\nthe more advanced religions. Where ritual has undergone a long term of\ndevelopment, where it has been subjected for many ages to continuous\nthought, and to elaboration in order to provide for new needs or\nagainst unforeseen contingencies, there it is apt to acquire a\nproportionate value of its own, independent of the merits of the\nperformer. The sacrifice which is a gift to the gods imperiously\ndemands its looked-for repayment, and will not be denied. The penance,\nwhether it be in the nature of a sacrifice or a spell, carries with\nit, like the Hindu rite of _dharna_, an implied curse if not responded\nto. In either case the deity to whom it is directed has no choice but\nto comply.\n\nThe constraining influence may take a variety of forms, and is by no\nmeans confined to one plane of civilization, or to one cultural area.\nSometimes it is expressed in knots to which is widely attributed what\nwe call magical power. In Morocco, where civilization has rather\ndeteriorated than progressed for many ages, the cult of the dead is\nlargely prevalent. Professor Westermarck records that a Berber servant\nof his told him that once when in prison he invoked a certain great\nfemale saint whose tomb was in a neighbouring district, and tied his\nturban, saying: \u201cI am tying thee, L\u00e4lla Rah\u2019ma Yusf, and I am not\ngoing to open the knot till thou hast helped me.\u201d And a person in\ndistress will sometimes go to her grave and knot the leaves of some\npalmetto growing in its vicinity, with the words: \u201cI tied thee here, O\nsaint, and I shall not release thee unless thou releasest me from the\ntoils in which I am at present.\u201d[130.1]\n\nThis perhaps also is, as Professor Westermarck suggests, {131} a\nconditional curse. Now a curse, like other magical proceedings before\nreferred to, is primarily a relief of overcharged feelings. Uttered\nwith all the strength of those feelings by an aggrieved or baffled\nadversary, it evokes even in our breasts to-day shuddering and horror.\nMuch more then in days when the man\u2019s _orenda_ was deemed to go out in\nspeech with immediate result upon the object to which he directed it.\nWhen gods came to be adopted and worshipped, strength was added to the\ncurse by invocation of the god. The god\u2019s name added to the curse was\nan addition of the god himself. For the name is a part, and an\nimportant part, of the god, and cannot be used without effect. The god\nis bound to respond to it, and to act in accordance with the votary\u2019s\ndemand. For this reason the real names of gods were kept secret.\nMystery thus attached to the name of the God of the Hebrews: hence the\nexpress prohibition to \u201ctake the name of the Lord thy God in vain.\u201d\nAlmost all over the world this belief in efficacy of the uttered name\nas a means of compulsion is responsible not merely for taboos on the\nnames of gods, and of men living or dead, but also for the form and\npotency of magical formul\u00e6. If you know the name of a spirit and\nutter it, or sometimes even threaten to utter it, you compel the\nowner\u2019s attention to your wants. Or you may pretend to be some great\npersonage, such as (wherever the Mohammedan tradition has penetrated)\nKing Solomon or the angel Gabriel; and in that name you may issue your\ncommands. Or, as among Christians, you call for the obedience of a\nspirit in the great name of God or the Lord Jesus Christ. In India to\nrepeat the divine name aloud, or even by way of meditation, \u201cis the\nmost usual way of acquiring religious merit.\u2026 So much importance is\ngiven to this mode of meditation that Tulsidas in {132} his _Ramayan_\nlays down that the name of Rama is greater than Rama himself.\u201d In\nother words, its utterance compels him. \u201cIt is said of a certain Hindu\nwho had notoriously lived a life of impiety that he obtained salvation\nby calling on his deathbed for his son by his name, which happened to\nbe N\u00e2r\u00e2yan.\u201d[132.1] The name N\u00e2r\u00e2yan is sacred. It was originally\na title of Brahm\u00e2, but is now usually applied to Vishnu, and is that\nunder which he was first worshipped.[132.2]\n\nThe curse, if curse it were, involved in the rite practised by\nProfessor Westermarck\u2019s servant was not of the kind dependent on the\nutterance of a name. It was rather of that in which the curse is\nconveyed by a sign or figure deriving its power from the _orenda_ of\nthe magician himself. I have already referred to one species of such\ncurses intended for the protection of property by marking it as taboo\nto the owner.[132.3] In this form they are chiefly used by the\nMalayo-Polynesian and Melanesian peoples and on the eastern side of\nCentral Africa, though they have their analogues elsewhere.[132.4]\nThe leaden tablets of _defixiones_ employed by the ancient Greeks, of\nwhich numerous examples are known, show a similar practice founded on\nsimilar ideas. The tablet is inscribed with the name of the person\nintended to be injured, and it is then \u201cdefixed,\u201d or bound, with a\nnail. The ceremony was doubtless accompanied by some words expressive\nof the intention. Indeed the expression of the intention was in course\nof time recorded on the tablet. A further stage in development was\nreached when the gods were invoked, {133} beginning with Hermes and\nGe, and going on to other chthonic divinities. Later, apparently\ntowards the end of the third century B.C., the custom began of\ndevoting to various gods lost property and the thief who had stolen\nit. Such tablets affixed to the walls of temples doubtless served the\npurpose of our advertisements for the recovery of lost or stolen\nproperty. The difference is that, whereas we offer material rewards,\nthe Greeks invoked the help of the gods and threatened the thief or\nreceiver with supernatural vengeance.[133.1] The use of _defixiones_\nspread into Italy, and has lasted into quite modern times, or, it may\nbe truer to say, was revived under the influence of learned men who at\nthe close of the Middle Ages became imbued with the astrology and\nmagic of earlier days. One of these learned men, Cornelius Agrippa of\nNettesheim, who attained high judicial office under the Emperor\nCharles the Fifth, but afterwards got into trouble for his occult\nstudies, wrote a book on Occult Philosophy, which was translated into\nEnglish in the middle of the seventeenth century. At that time the\nstudy of magic was falling into disrepute. Agrippa\u2019s book was left to\ncharlatans who preyed upon the ignorant. Some of the results have been\nfound up and down the country in the form of leaden tablets inscribed\nwith curses, mystical numbers and signs, names of the spirits invoked\nto make the curses effectual and of the victims against whom the\ncurses were intended to operate.[133.2] In these modern cases {134}\nthe powers appealed to are no longer beings recognized by the dominant\nreligion. They are relics of religions passed away, or figments of the\npedantic imagination. Magic, in short, has for purposes of private\nvengeance been ousted from religion and has set up for itself.\n\nAt any rate the Moroccan rite involves a threat; and a threat is near\nakin to a curse. Much may be done with gods, as with men, by means of\na little judicious bluff. A certain Malay robber kept six tame\nspirits, to whom he made an offering from time to time. When he did so\nhe called them by name, bidding them: \u201cCome here! Eat my offering!\nTake you care that my body is not affected, that the flow of my blood\nis not stayed! Likewise with the bodies of my wife and children. (If\nnot) I\u2019ll turn the earth and the sky the wrong way round!\u201d He was\nfully convinced of the power of these spirits and apparently of the\nvalue of his terrible threat, though, as Mr Annandale, who reports the\ncase, points out, the spirits had been unable to save him from being\nconvicted and imprisoned for his crimes.[134.1]\n\nIn ancient Egypt magic was practised in connection with religion from\nprehistoric times. Magic and religion \u201cwere two products of one and\nthe same _Weltanschauung_, not disparate either in their methods or in\ntheir psychological basis. Nor were they differently estimated from\nthe ethical point of view: magic was deemed permissible, so long as it\nwas turned to no evil purpose. It follows that the classification of\nEgyptian superstitious practices as (_a_) religious, (_b_) magical,\nmust be a purely external mode of classification: the distinction\nbetween religion {135} and magic in Egypt has not, and cannot be made\nto have, any deeper significance.\u201d[135.1] The scholar from whom I\nquote these words, so far from exaggerating the close relationship\nbetween magic and religion, may be said to understate it. Magic was an\nintegral part of religion. The priests of the gods were magicians.\nMagic was employed in the ritual of worship. It enabled the great god\nRa to overcome the serpent Apep.[135.2] Magical ceremonies performed\nby the priests over the mummy, or over a statuette representing the\ndeceased, were the means by which his success in passing the necessary\ntests and his lasting happiness after death were secured. The means\nemployed were those universally known to magic: amulets, waxen and\nother figures, pictures, spells and words of power, the knowledge of\nnames, rites imitating the results desired, and so forth. Concerning\nthe dead we are told: \u201cFew were those who remained for ever with the\nSun, and they were not necessarily the great ones of the earth, nor\nyet the very good, but those who possessed the most minute information\nas to the next world, and who were best versed in magic. Thus the\nwhole doctrine is based on a belief in the power of magic.\u201d[135.3]\n\u201cIn the next world a correct knowledge of magic words and formulas was\nabsolutely essential. There no door would open to him who knew not its\nname; no demon would allow the passage of the dead who did not call\nupon him correctly, nor would any god come to his help unless invoked\nby the right name; no food could be had so long as the exactly\nprescribed prayers were not uttered with the true intonations. But the\ndead who {136} knew these formulas, and who knew how to speak them\ncorrectly at the proper moment, who was _ma\u00e2 kher\u00fb_\n(right-speaking), might rest assured of immortality and of eternal\nblessedness.\u201d[136.1] This led of course to the multiplication of\nspells, to the elaboration of ritual, during the long ages of Egyptian\nhistory, until at last they must have become extremely burdensome.\n\nMoreover, sorcery was not only expended by man in the service of the\ngods and of the dead: it was used by the gods themselves. \u201cOnly by\nmeans of conjurations could Ra himself pass through\u201d the divisions\nbetween the twelve hourly spaces of the night.[136.2] By the power of\nhis name Neb-er-tcher or Khepera, often identified with certain\naspects of Ra, the Sun, evolved himself and created the world.[136.3]\nThe secret name of Ra was a word of might. Isis set herself with all\nher arts to learn it, that she might possess the world in heaven and\nupon earth as Ra did (that is, become a goddess); and when she had\nextorted it from the august divinity, she turned the weapon without\nhesitation upon himself.[136.4] By examples like these men were\nauthorized to have recourse to magic in their own secular concerns,\ntheir loves and hates, their sickness, their social and business\nrelations, their private enterprizes, their competitions and\nresentments. Kings consulted the soothsayers on public affairs; they\nemployed magical processes to vanquish their enemies; {137} with the\naid of soothsayers and magicians they governed their realm. It was\nonly when sorcery was directed against the king\u2019s life, when it aimed\nat the overthrow of his power, or the injury or death of others, that\nit was reckoned a crime, or even reprehended on moral grounds.\n\nNor did the magician hesitate to compel even the gods to perform his\nwishes, and to threaten them, like the Malay robber, with dire\ndisaster to themselves and the universe as a punishment of their\nobstinacy. In one papyrus preserved to us, for example, a woman in\nlabour declares herself to be Isis and summons the gods to her help.\nIf they refuse to come, \u201cThen shall ye be destroyed, ye nine gods; the\nheaven shall no longer exist, the earth shall no longer exist, the\nfive days over and above the year shall cease to be, offerings shall\nno longer be made to the gods, the lords of Heliopolis. The firmament\nof the south shall fail, and disaster shall break forth from the sky\nof the north. Lamentations shall resound from the graves, the midday\nsun shall no longer shine, the Nile shall not bestow its waters of\ninundation at the appointed time.\u201d[137.1] Such bombastic menaces as\nthese continued to be part of the practitioner\u2019s stock-in-trade in the\nRoman Empire to the downfall of paganism.\n\nAmong the ancient Greeks in Plato\u2019s time there were soothsayers and\nmedicine-men who professed to have power over the gods, so that they\ncould compel them to do their bidding, even though it were to injure\nanother person.[137.2] I am not aware whether any of their spells\nhave been preserved.[137.3]\n\n{138}\n\nCases like these display the religion of the community applied to the\nprivate advantage of the individual. More interesting is the authority\nwhich Mr Hodson attributes to the _khullakpa_, or village priest, of\nthe Naga tribes of Manipur. The khullakpa is to be distinguished from\nthe _maiba_, or medicine-man, who is doctor and magician in one. The\nmaiba is called in to deal with individual cases; the khullakpa plays\nthe leading part when a village _genna_ is held. It is he who offers\nthe sacrifices and performs the rites. The term _genna_ means\nforbidden. A genna extending to the whole village excludes strangers\nfrom entering, and prohibits the inhabitants from going out and from\ndoing any work while the genna lasts; it may also prescribe fasting,\ncontinence, and other observances. In short, \u201cthe ordinary routine of\nlife is profoundly modified, if not broken off altogether.\u201d A genna\nmay be either periodical, as for the sake of the crops or the hunting;\nor it may be occasional, as at a death, or against epidemic sickness,\nor at an earthquake or eclipse. A sacrifice is invariably a part of\nthe ritual. The khullakpa \u201cacts,\u201d says Mr Hodson, \u201cwhenever a rite is\nperformed which requires the whole force of the community behind it,\nand this force finds its operation through him. These village gennas\nseem in many cases to be inspired by the belief that man, _the man_,\nthe {139} khullakpa, when fortified by the whole strength and will of\nthe village, is able to control and constrain forces which are beyond\nhis control if unaided.\u201d[139.1] If this inference, made by an acute\nobserver, be correct, it is a remarkable example of the corporate\nstrength of the society applied by means of religious rites to the\ncoercion of the gods and other supernatural beings.\n\nNot a little significant of the intimate relations of religion and\nmagic is the fact that many peoples have expressly ascribed the\nauthorship and practice of magic to their gods. In New South Wales the\nfigure of Baiame, the idealized headman just developing into a god, is\nmodelled upon that of a magician. He is described by one of the tribes\nin so many words as \u201cmightiest and most famous of _Wirreenun_,\u201d or\nmagicians.[139.2] The Araw\u00e2k of British Guiana tell of a similar\npersonage in a semi-deified position, named Araw\u00e2nili or Orow\u00e2ma, to\nwhom the mysteries of sorcery were revealed by an _orehu_. The orehu\nis a sort of mermaid who is an important figure in the mythology of\nthese Indians. She haunts the rivers, a capricious, mischievous, not\nalways malicious and cruel, but sometimes benevolent figure. In one of\nher kindlier moments she met Araw\u00e2nili brooding over the condition to\nwhich men were reduced by the evil doings of the _yauhahu_, downright\nmalignant beings, the authors of sickness and death. To combat their\ndepredations she gave him the sorcerer\u2019s rattle and instructed him how\nto use it. \u201cHe followed her directions and thus became the founder of\nthat system which has since prevailed among all the Indian tribes.\u201d\nAccording to Araw\u00e2k belief Araw\u00e2nili did not die like other men, but\n\u201cwent up,\u201d that is to say, disappeared or departed in the manner of\nother American {140} culture-heroes. We have no evidence, however,\nthat he is actually worshipped.[140.1]\n\nThe coast-dwellers of the Gazelle Peninsula of New Pomerania, whose\neffective belief is in spirits, both _manes_ and spirits non-human in\norigin, presuppose in their witchcraft the existence of these spirits.\nSickness and other ills are caused by evil-disposed spirits, and are\ncombated by magic. But this magic is due to the superior might of\nwell-disposed spirits. It is they who reveal the spells by which human\nailments may be vanquished and human desires gratified. Among these\nspirits are especially to be named the Inal, a spirit with wings like\na bird\u2019s and face like an owl\u2019s, inhabiting a great _giao_-tree\n(_Ficus prolixa_), and the Kaya, a gigantic python with human face,\nworshipped by certain of the natives as ancestor. From the ascription\nto spirits of all spells made use of by the sorcerers, Father Meier,\nto whom we are indebted for our knowledge of the native beliefs,\ninfers that the belief in spirits preceded witchcraft.[140.2] Whether\nthe inference be right or wrong, there can be no doubt of the fact\nthat this belief and witchcraft are now inseparable.\n\nAmong the Lushai-Kuki of Assam, Pathian the creator, a quasi-supreme\nand benevolent being, was acquainted with, but is not definitely\nstated to have been the author of, witchcraft. It was taught by his\ndaughter, as a ransom for her life, to Vahrika, who had caught her\nstealing water from his private supply. Vahrika is described as\n\u201csomething like\u201d Pathian--a purely mythological figure. He in turn\ntaught it all to others.[140.3] In Japan, Jimmu {141} Tenn\u014d, the\ndeified legendary founder of the empire, is said to have first taught\nthe use of magical formul\u00e6; while the gods Ohonamochi and\nSukunabikona are credited with the invention of medicine and\nmagic.[141.1] The ancient Egyptians held Thoth, the god of writing\nand guardian of law, \u201cto have written the most sacred books and\nformulas with his own hand, and therein to have set down his knowledge\nof magic, in which art Isis was his only rival. His pre-eminence in\nmagic naturally led to his becoming the god of medicine, for magic was\nfully as important to the medical practitioners of the Nile Valley as\nknowledge of remedies.\u201d[141.2] In other words, medicine was not yet\nseparated from magic, the physician was a sorcerer, who may have been\nversed in simples, but whose practice was essentially mysterious and\nderived its effect rather from what we call supernatural than natural\nmodes of action. Hence to recognize Thoth as god of medicine was\nequivalent to recognizing him as god of magic, a character peculiarly\nsuitable to a god of letters.\n\nFinally, not to lengthen the list, if we may trust the Ynglinga-saga,\nOdin was the author of those crafts which men have long since plied,\nand among them of magic. He \u201cwas wise in that craft wherewith went\nmost might, which is called spell-craft; and this he himself followed.\nWherefore he had might to know the fate of men and things not yet come\nto pass; yea, or how to work for men bane or illhap or ill-heal, and\nto take wit or strength from men and give them unto others.\u201d He was a\nnotorious shape-shifter. \u201cHe knew how by words alone to slake the fire\nor still the sea, and how to turn {142} the wind to whichso way he\nwould.\u201d He could \u201cwake up dead men from the earth.\u201d He \u201cknew of all\nburied treasures where they were hidden; and he knew lays whereby the\nearth opened before him, and mountains and rocks and mounds, and how\nto bind with words alone whoso might be found dwelling therein; and he\nwould go in and take thence what he would. From all this craft he\nbecame exceeding famed, and his foes dreaded him, but his friends put\ntheir trust in him, and had faith in his craft and himself; but he\ntaught the more part of his cunning to the temple-priests, and they\nwere next to him in all wisdom and cunning: albeit many others got to\nthem much knowledge thereof, and thence sorcery spread far and wide\nand endured long.\u201d[142.1] Although the opening chapters of the\nYnglinga-saga, from which I have extracted these particulars, are a\nlate and euhemerized version of the Scandinavian mythology, the\naccount of Odin\u2019s magical powers contains little that does not appear\nin the early poems, or cannot be inferred from them. Whatever may have\nbeen the primitive form of this renowned god, there can be no doubt\nthat he was before the close of the pagan age regarded as a god of\nmagic and sorcery. His reputation as god of poetry, and probably as\nwar-god, is bound up with this. The magical value attached to verse is\nvery common among peoples in an archaic stage of culture; and it was\nshared to the full by the ancient Norsemen. Many of them--at least in\nViking days, and it is by no means unlikely much earlier--combined in\ntheir own persons the warrior with the poet and the sorcerer. Nor\nshall we go far astray if we conclude that these various strands had\nbeen long interwoven to form the character of the Lord of the Anses.\nThe intimate relation existing among the Norse between {143} religion\nand magic is further indicated by the superior magical knowledge and\npowers ascribed to them and stated to be originally derived from Odin.\n\nThus, on the one hand, we find constraint of the higher powers for\npublic or private ends; on the other hand, the invention of spells and\npractice of magic are attributed to the gods themselves. We may think\nthat constraint of the gods is inconsistent with worship. This is not\nthe notion of peoples among which magic and religion are thus\ninterwoven. The object of religion is to acquire benefits for the\nindividual or the community. With this end men deem themselves\njustified in applying any means likely to secure it; and they treat\ntheir gods as they would powerful fellow-men, seeking favours where\nfavours are to be had for the asking or in return for favours,\nenforcing compliance with their wishes where prayers will not avail,\nor cheating them where they get the chance. The repetition of a divine\nname may be either a favour to the god, or may be compulsion. The\nvotary cares not to distinguish. In either case it brings about the\ngratification of his wishes. The village _genna_ practised by the\nNagas is compulsion. It is none the less worship. Many of the magical\ntexts of ancient Egypt are directed to assisting the gods to overcome\ntheir enemies, thus rendering them a favour which they were bound to\nreturn. The ritual of the Scapegoat, familiar to us in its Hebrew\nform,[143.1] but in fact found in many other quarters of the globe,\npresents another form of these magical practices. The sins of which\nmen have been guilty, the evils from which they have been suffering\nare laden on the head of the unfortunate victim, who is forthwith put\nto death or driven away forever from society. {144} Whether in the\nearliest form of the rite the victim was regarded as divine may be\ndoubted: it is certain that it has been taken up into the cult of the\ngods in many religions, and has been deemed a pious act, a work of\nobligation, for the wellbeing of the joint community of gods and men.\n\nDivine beings may even be made accomplices in Black or antisocial\nMagic without any compulsion. The white-headed carrion-hawk\n(_Haliaster intermedius_) is the most important bird of omen observed\nby the Kenyahs of Borneo. Under the name of Bali Flaki he is looked\nupon as messenger and intermediary between themselves and Bali\nPenyalong, the Supreme Being. Apparently every individual hawk is such\na messenger, but his sacred character appears in his title Bali: a\nword probably derived from the Sanskrit and sometimes translated\n_holy_, but having the force of \u201can adjectival equivalent of the\n_mana_ of the Melanesians, or of the _wakanda_ or _orenda_ of North\nAmerican tribes, words which seem to connote all power other than\npurely mechanical.\u201d[144.1] Bali Flaki is appealed to publicly on\nbehalf of the community on various occasions, as on sowing or\nharvesting the rice-crop, making war or peace, or in fact before any\nundertaking or decision. His aid may also \u201cbe sought privately by any\nman who wishes to injure another. For this purpose a man makes a rough\nwooden image in human form, and retires to some quiet spot on the\nriver-bank, where he sets up a _tegulun_, a horizontal pole supported\nabout a yard above the ground by a pair of vertical poles. He lights a\nsmall fire beside the _tegulun_, and taking a fowl in one hand, he\nsits on the ground behind it, so as to see through it a square patch\nof sky, and so waits until a hawk becomes visible upon the patch. As\n{145} soon as a hawk appears he kills the fowl, and with a frayed\nstick smears its blood on the wooden image, saying: \u2018Put fat in his\nmouth.\u2019\u201d This appears to be addressed to the hawk. In the description\nof what is in effect the same rite as practised among some of the\nKlemantans of the same island, we are definitely told it is so\naddressed. The expression means, \u201cLet his head be taken\u201d; for the\npeople are head-hunters, and fat is put in the mouth of every head\ntaken. Messrs Hose and M\u2018Dougall, whom I am quoting, proceed: \u201cAnd he\nputs a bit of fat in the mouth of the image. Then he strikes at the\nbreast of the image with a wooden spear, and throws it into a pool of\nwater reddened with red earth, and then takes it out and buries it in\nthe ground,\u201d in the manner in which only persons dying by violence or\nsome much feared disease are buried. \u201cWhile the hawk is visible he\nwaves it towards the left; for he knows that if it flies to the left\nhe will prevail over his enemy, but that if it goes to the right his\nenemy is too strong for him.\u201d In the Klemantan rite, as described for\nus, he also shouts to the hawk to go to the left. When it has gone in\nthe desired direction he addresses a prayer beginning \u201cO Bali Flaki,\ngo your way, let this man (naming him) die; go and put him in the lake\nof blood, O Bali Flaki; stab him in the chest, Bali Flaki,\u201d and so on,\ninvoking all sorts of evil deaths upon him.[145.1] Now here we have a\nwell-known rite of antisocial magic. But to make it effectual the\nco\u00f6peration of the divine power is requisite. That power is called\nupon. There is no attempt to coerce Bali Flaki, who, if not himself a\ngod, is at least a messenger and intermediary of the great god Bali\nPenyalong. Yet there is confidence that he can perform the request,\nand that he shows by his flight that he will do so.\n\n{146}\n\nSo on the mainland of India, in the Nilgiri Hills, the Toda sorcerer,\nhaving procured some human hair--not that of the person to be injured,\nfor it would be impossible to get it--ties together by its means five\nsmall stones, and with a piece of cloth makes a bundle of them. Over\nthem thus tied up he utters his incantation. It begins by calling on\nhis gods; and whether the opening clauses be precisely rendered or not\nin the following free translation, it is clear that the gods are\ninvoked. Indeed, Dr Rivers, after careful enquiry, expresses the\nopinion that \u201cin the formul\u00e6 used in Toda sorcery appeal to the gods\nis even more definite than in the prayers of the dairy ritual,\u201d the\nmost important of the religious ceremonies. \u201cIn them,\u201d he says, \u201cthe\nnames of four most important gods are mentioned, and it seems quite\nclear that the sorcerer believes he is effecting his purpose through\nthe power of the gods.\u201d The spell runs something like this: \u201cFor the\nsake of Pithioteu, \u00d6n, Teikirzi and Tirshti; by the power of the\ngods, if there be power; by the gods\u2019 country, if there be a country;\nmay his calves perish; as birds fly away, may his buffaloes go when\nthe calves come to suck; as I drink water, may he have nothing but\nwater to drink; as I am thirsty, may he also be thirsty; as I am\nhungry, may he also be hungry; as my children cry, so may his children\ncry; as my wife wears only a ragged cloth, so may his wife wear only a\nragged cloth.\u201d The bundle thus enchanted he hides in the thatch of the\nvictim\u2019s hut.[146.1]\n\nAnother example of the complicity in hostile magic of a supernatural\nbeing, who perhaps can hardly be pronounced a god in the strict sense\nof the term, though {147} powerful for good and ill, may be cited,\nthis time from the continent of Africa. The religion of the Boloki\n(Bangala) on the Upper Congo, we are told, \u201chas its basis in their\nfear of those numerous invisible spirits which surround them on every\nside, and are constantly trying to compass their sickness, misfortune\nand death; and the Boloki\u2019s sole object in practising their religion\nis to cajole or appease, cheat, or conquer and kill those spirits that\ntrouble them--hence their _nganga_ [medicine-man], their rites, their\nceremonies and their charms. If there were no evil spirits to be\ncircumvented, there would be no need of their medicine-men and their\ncharms.\u201d Among these various spirits is one called _Ejo_, the spirit\nof wealth. \u201cA man who wants to become rich pays a large fee to _nganga\nya bwaka_ [the most feared and respected of all the classes of\nmedicine-men], who then uses his influence with _Ejo_ on behalf of his\nclient, who must in all future gains set apart a portion for _Ejo_,\nand should he fail to do so, _Ejo_ has the power to punish him.\u2026\nWhen a person has received the _mono mwa ejo_ (_ejo_ medicine or\ncharm), and has become wealthy by his luck-giving power, he takes the\nnail-parings and hair-cuttings of a woman and makes medicine with\nthem; and the woman soon dies and her spirit goes to _Ejo_ as an\noffering for its help. He is said to _lekia nkali_ (to pass her on as\na gift or sacrifice to _Ejo_).\u201d[147.1] It is difficult to distinguish\na transaction like this from the ordinary relations of a man to his\ngod. The votary pays tithe of his gains obtained by favour of the\nspirit; and over and above the tithe, he is under the necessity of\nproviding a human sacrifice from time to time for the spirit. But the\nmeans by which the sacrifice is provided are the exercise of\nwitchcraft, and that with the full knowledge and assistance {148} of\nthe supernatural being who is to be kept in good humour thereby.\n\nAn example of the intermingling of religion and magic in a different\nway may also be taken from the same people. \u201cPhysical phenomena (as\nheavy storms), when taking place about the time that a person dies, or\nis being buried, are regarded as caused by the deceased person; hence\nwhen a storm threatens to break during the funeral festivities of a\nman, the people present will call the beloved child of the deceased,\nand, giving him a lighted ember from the hearth with a vine twined\nround it, they will ask him to stop the rain. The lad steps forward\nand waves the vine-encircled ember towards the horizon where the storm\nis rising, and says: \u2018Father, let us have fine weather during your\nfuneral ceremonies.\u2019 The son, after this rite, must not drink water\n(he may drink sugar-cane wine), nor put his feet in water for one day.\nShould he not observe this custom, the rain will at once\nfall.\u201d[148.1] The boy\u2019s father, having died, has become a _mongoli_,\nthat is to say, an ancestral spirit of indefinite powers, who watches\nover the perpetuation of his family, haunts the forest or the river,\ninspires mediums to deliver oracles, and visits the village at times\nin the material form of a crocodile or a hippopotamus to receive\nofferings of sugar-cane wine and food. His favourite son has influence\nwith him to change his purposes, and exercises that influence by\nprayer. But to make the prayer effectual in staying the storm, he must\nuse a widely diffused charm against rain--the waving of a brand and\nabstinence from water.\n\nIt is probable, as we have seen, that the early stages of ritual were\nvague and inchoate. It was adaptable to {149} interpretation as\nculture progressed, as new beliefs were evolved or imported. Such an\nexample of adaptability has been pointed out by Miss Werner in a rite\npractised by the Anyanja of British Central Africa when rain is\nwanted. It is complete in itself, but is now prefaced by an appeal to\nMpambe, a quasi-supreme being. \u201cThe principal part was taken by a\nwoman--the chief\u2019s sister. She began by dropping _ufa_ [maize-flour]\non the ground, slowly and carefully, till it formed a cone, and in\ndoing this called out in a high-pitched voice, \u2018_Imva Mpambe! Adza\nmvula_\u2019 (Hear thou, O God, and send rain!), and the assembled people\nresponded, clapping their hands softly and intoning--they always\nintone their prayers--\u2018_Imva Mpambe_.\u2019 The beer was then poured out as\na libation, and the people, following the example of the woman, threw\nthemselves on their backs and clapped their hands (a form of\nsalutation to superiors), and finally danced round the chief where he\nsat on the ground.\u201d Then followed the rite in question. \u201cThe dance\nceased; a large jar of water was brought and placed before the chief.\nFirst Mbudzi (his sister) washed her hands, arms and face; then water\nwas poured over her by another woman; then all the women rushed\nforward with calabashes in their hands, and, dipping them into the\njar, threw the water into the air with loud cries and wild\ngesticulations.\u201d This is obviously a rain-charm, but, as Miss Werner\nsays, it \u201cmight be taken as prayer and not magic, if we are to\nunderstand the water to be thrown into the air as a sign that water is\nwanted.\u201d She adds: \u201cSometimes people smear themselves with mud and\ncharcoal to show that they want washing. If the rain still does not\ncome, they go and wash themselves in the rivers and streams.\u201d[149.1]\nThe women\u2019s action and cries may {150} be interpreted as addressed to\nsomeone or something, though possibly originating merely in excessive\nemotion and now become traditional. It would be only necessary for the\ncries to become articulate and the name of Mpambe, or some other name,\nto be pronounced, to form a genuine invocation, as has happened in the\nBoloki rite just described. Actually the invocation forms the\npreliminary of the rite: that may be what, for want of better\nknowledge, we should call an accident. That it is comparatively recent\nis shown by the employment of maize-flour. The evolution might easily\nhave taken another course.\n\nTurning to another continent, we may find an example of adaptability\nof a more elaborate ceremony. The Navaho are in the main an Athapascan\npeople who have wandered down to the sterile plains of New Mexico and\nArizona. There, ages ago, they came into contact with the more settled\nPueblo tribes. The researches of American anthropologists show the\npractical identity of certain of their religious rituals with those of\ntheir Pueblo neighbours. It would seem that these rituals have been\ntaken over from the latter. This is only natural, seeing that the\nNavaho came down from the north with an undeveloped culture and\norganization into a country where new needs were experienced and a\nhigher civilization was met with. But in taking over the rituals they\nhave applied them to purposes different from those of their original\nperformers. The chief aim of the ceremonies as used among the Pueblo\ntribes is to obtain fertility, and the condition of fertility is rain.\nThis is clear from the use made of corn-meal and corn-pollen. \u201cPollen\nis the symbol of fertility, and the rite at bottom is for rain. The\nNavaho took over the use of the corn and the pollen together with the\nother features; but the corn no longer served its previous {151}\npurpose as a prayer for rain and the ripening of the crops: it was\nused for the cure of disease.\u201d[151.1] The Dene or Athapascans, of\nwhich stem the Navaho are a branch, are a people of migratory hunters.\nAgriculture would be foreign to them. Their principal ceremonies are\nconcerned with the conjuration of evil spirits and the cure of\ndiseases, which are usually ascribed to the spirits. It was natural\nthat when they borrowed the ceremonies of a settled agricultural\ncommunity they should imbue them with their own ideas. In their hands\nthe cure of disease \u201cbecame the fundamental feature of the borrowed\nrites. A ceremony intended for rain-making would naturally need some\nalteration in order to serve as a cure of disease.\u201d[151.2] And it has\nreceived it. The fact that they have been able so to adapt the rites\nprobably points to some want of definiteness in the form of the rites\nat the time they were borrowed.\n\nAnother illustration of adaptability is seen in the rites at wells or\nrocks common all over Europe. What may have been the original cause of\nthe sacredness of a well or a rock, what may have been the original\nintention of the processions, the dances and the decorations we have\nof course no means of knowing. We may guess that some peculiarity in\nthe shape of the rock, the sweet or healing waters of the fountain, or\nsome sudden and unexplained or untoward incident first called and\nconcentrated popular attention, and that a precise, intelligible\nmeaning may hardly have been attached to the few and simple ceremonies\nfirst performed. In course of time, we may conjecture, ritual and\nbelief were elaborated and defined. However this may be, we know that\nbefore the end of paganism--at {152} least in those countries of the\nwest where inscriptions have been preserved--a spirit or god was\nbelieved to haunt the place and to preside over the rites of which it\nwas the scene. To him they were addressed, and it was his favour they\nsought to conciliate. Christianity came and diverted the rites to new\nobjects, not altogether forbidding, but baptizing them, in accordance\nwith the policy enunciated in Pope Gregory\u2019s famous letter to the\nAbbot Mellitus. All these changes necessitate adaptations of practice.\nThat which at first was formless receives a definite form. That which\nmay have been an indeterminate expression of awe and reverence becomes\ndistinctly worship, though not without elements, often retained to the\nlast, that we should call magical. And the changes in the nominal\nobjects of worship are accompanied by progressive changes in the\ndetails of the ritual. Lastly when, as in many cases, official\nrecognition of the ritual is abandoned, and it is left to the unguided\nsuperstition of the peasant, it tends to slip back into its original\nindeterminate condition. Acts are performed or avoided, and ceremonies\nundertaken, not as worship of a power known and resident on the\nhallowed spot, but for benefits sometimes precise, more often for luck\nmysterious, impersonal, half-credited, or from fear of something\nequally mysterious, but for that reason all the more terrible. Beyond\nthis, the practices linger into a stage, unknown to the savages who\nbegan them, where they are performed for pleasure, or else in the hope\nof monetary gain, by children and adolescents, and die away gradually\nunder the stress of modern life and the influence of the schoolmaster.\n\nThe earlier stages of this round may, as we have seen, be observed\noccasionally in the rites of peoples still in the lower culture. Close\nobservation, accurate analysis and {153} comparison would probably\nresult in finding them more frequently. Meanwhile let us turn to\nanother question.\n\nIf I have been right in insisting throughout these essays on the\nfundamental organic unity of Magic and Religion, I have not denied\ntheir gradual separation and opposition at a later stage. They have\ntheir common root in the same attitude toward the environment, social\nand physical. Rite and belief have been elaborated and organized\ntogether. For ages during this process magic and religion must have\nbeen integral parts of one another, as they are now in many parts of\nthe world. Except in regard to antisocial magic, they have not yet\namong many peoples begun to feel opposition. But this unity, as\ncivilization progresses, becomes more and more unstable. Where, as is\nsaid to be the case in Morocco, civilization has recoiled, magic comes\nmore and more to the front. Though it does so not without protests on\nthe part of those who retain any consciousness of the higher\ndevelopment of religion, still on the whole it is successful in\noverlaying religion and pushing it into the background. Another people\nwhose religion is in process of degeneration, if Dr Rivers\u2019 opinion be\ncorrect, is the Todas. There the magic of the dairy ritual has thrust\naside the worship of the gods. In this case, however, the opposition\nis not open and avowed. The history of the Todas is a blank. We cannot\nput our finger on one period and say: Here the gods were worshipped\nand the dairy magic was unknown. We have no records. We can only\nconclude from an examination of the internal evidence that the gods\nonce played a more prominent part in the life of the community than\nthey do now, but that Toda culture had not so far progressed that\nmagic was not an inseparable part of religion, and that any growth of\nmagic at the expense of religion would have {154} been viewed without\nmisgiving or even consciousness. Even religions where the opposition\nis most pronounced are themselves by no means pure from magic. All the\nsubtlety, all the rhetoric of theologians may well be needed to rebut\nthe charge of magic against the seven sacraments of the Church. I at\nleast have no intention to risk the curse levelled by the Council of\nTrent at him who denies their efficacy _ex opere operato_, and whether\nor not the minister may be in a state of mortal sin.\n\nIn denouncing witchcraft the Christian Church has followed the lead of\nthe Hebrew religion. The Hebrew law against witchcraft was\nunambiguous, pitiless. \u201cThou shalt not suffer a sorceress to\nlive\u201d[154.1] is the grim direction of the oldest Hebrew writing. It\nis expanded by the Deuteronomist: \u201cWhen thou art come into the land\nwhich Yahw\u00e8 thy God giveth thee, thou shalt not learn to do after the\nabominations of those nations. There shall not be found with thee\nanyone that maketh his son or his daughter to pass through the fire,\none that useth divination, one that practiseth augury, or an\nenchanter, or a sorcerer, or a charmer, or a consulter with a familiar\nspirit, or a wizard, or a necromancer. For whosoever doeth these\nthings is an abomination unto Yahw\u00e8; and because of these\nabominations Yahw\u00e8 thy God doth drive them out from before\nthee.\u201d[154.2] This is pretty comprehensive. Yet it left many\npractices within the national religion, recognized as part of it,\nthough essentially magical. The scapegoat I have already mentioned.\nThe ordeal of the water of bitterness, to which a woman suspected by\nher husband of infidelity was compelled to submit, is equally a\nmagical proceeding.[154.3] Both are sanctioned, not to say\nprescribed, by Yahw\u00e8; though in their present form the prescriptions\nmay be late. Divination {155} is prohibited, and consultation with\nfamiliar spirits or the ghosts of the dead, augury, and the taking of\nomens. Nevertheless, the children of Israel enquired of Yahw\u00e8, and he\nanswered them by dreams; and the high priest divined by means of Urim\nand Thummim. Teraphim seem to have been amulets--one might almost say\nfetishes. They are referred to more than once in the Hebrew books. As\nlate as the prophet Hosea they were not merely tolerated but regarded\nas necessities to the prosperity of the people. \u201cFor the children of\nIsrael shall abide many days without king and without prince, and\nwithout sacrifice and without pillar (_massebah_), and without ephod\nor teraphim. Afterward shall the children of Israel return and seek\nthe Lord their God and David their king, and shall come with fear unto\nthe Lord and to his goodness in the latter days.\u201d[155.1] The use of\nthe ephod was probably connected with divination, and Yahw\u00e8, speaking\nthrough the prophet, expressly countenanced not only this, but also\nthe use of teraphim. With growing monotheism they were, however,\neventually repressed.\n\nIndeed, a comparison of the passages in which reference is made to\nvarious magical practices will suggest that the real reason of the\nhostility to them arose from their connection with heathenism. They\nwere representative practices of a rival religion. They hindered the\nconcentration of worship on Yahw\u00e8 at his sole shrine on Mount Zion.\nOn the other hand, the casting out of evil spirits continued unabated\nand unreproved into New Testament times, and the wearing of personal\namulets in the shape of phylacteries persists among the uneducated\nclasses of Jews to the present day and has full rabbinical sanction.\nBoth these practices are uncontrovertibly magical.\n\n{156}\n\nSimilar considerations inspired medi\u00e6val hostility to witchcraft, and\ncontinued it with little decrease of intensity into the eighteenth\ncentury. Witchcraft was rebellion against the established religion. It\nwas identified with heresy. It involved contempt of the omnipotent\npriesthood, derogating thus not merely from its reputation, but also\nits gains. It was believed even to set up a rival god. This belief was\nan inheritance from primitive Christianity, which looked upon the\nheathen gods as devils. Every miracle which imposed on the credulity\nof those ages, if performed by a Christian, was attributed to divine\ninterference; if performed, on the contrary, by a pagan, was with as\nlittle hesitation ascribed to Satan and his underlings. In either case\nnobody doubted the fact of the occurrence, or thought it worth while\nminutely to examine the evidence. The hostility of the Church to\nwitchcraft had, however, the excuse that the heathen rites were in a\nlarge measure magical, and that magic, other than Black Magic, was\navowedly practised during pagan times and regarded with toleration, if\nnot complacency. Heathenism died a hard death. Somewhat changed in\nform it survived for centuries; and many of the heretical sects were\nmore or less impregnated with it.\n\nBut all this does not fully account for the horror and hatred felt\nagainst magic alike by churchmen and the laity. What gave intensity to\nthe opposition was the dread that magical powers would be used to the\ndisadvantage, the injury, the death of all against whom the magician\nhad a grudge. So persistently did this dread take hold of the\nimagination that the practice of magic was finally identified with\nBlack Magic, and to be accused of witchcraft meant to be charged with\nthe attempt to injure, and perhaps to slay, one\u2019s neighbours {157} by\nmysterious, and because mysterious, horrible means. Against\nproceedings of this kind there was no protection but in hunting out\nand putting an end to the magicians. This feeling had manifested\nitself even in pagan times. Both in Greece and at Rome the laws\ncondemned magicians to death.\n\nIt is, in fact, the tendency to individualism rather than magic itself\nthat has awakened hostility everywhere. But this tendency is inherent\nin magic. In the lower stages of civilization magic is undistinguished\nnot only from religion but from medicine, from astronomy, from\nengineering, from literary learning, from the practice of industries\nother than the simplest and of art. Consequently everyone who\npossesses a little more skill than ordinary, or is credited with a\nknowledge surpassing that of the vulgar, faces the inevitable risk of\nbeing reputed a magician, and the suspicion of using his advantages to\nthe detriment of others. Nor is the suspicion unfounded. Human nature\nbeing what it is, power, of whatever kind, is utilized for the benefit\nof its possessor, frequently without regard to the claims of others or\nthe public good. The shaman or the wizard who is called in to the aid\nof the sick is often the depositary of knowledge of healing herbs and\nof poisons. The powers that are at the disposal of beneficence are\nequally applied to baleful ends. The healing of disease, whether it be\neffected by suggestion or by physical remedies, may be a social good:\nprimarily and directly it is an individual benefit. To put the public\nfoe under a spell excites the approval of the community. To lay a\nprivate enemy low is a very different matter. But the same expert by\nthe exercise of the same skill performs both. Moreover, he subserves\nthe ends of private gain and private revenge with equal indifference,\nand, it is {158} believed, by the same mysterious means. In all these\ninstances the professor of magic places his skill, knowledge,\nexperience, and the terror of his name and incantations--in one word,\nhis _orenda_--at the service of his clients without distinction. As\ncivilization advances, and religion and religious ministers begin to\nbe differentiated from the wizard or medicine-man, the latter is\nprobably called on less and less to perform rites on behalf of the\npublic, and more and more on behalf of individuals. The portions of\nmagic that can be disposed for the purposes of the community are taken\nup into religion. What remains when this is done becomes specifically\nthe method and practice of the magician. Small wonder then that the\nonly magic recognized as such is antisocial magic.\n\nOn the other hand, so great is the terror inspired by magic, and so\ninstinctively gregarious is mankind, that mere eccentricity, the\nfailure to follow the crowd, is often of itself sufficient to start\nthe cry of witchcraft. The slavery of man in the lower culture to\ncustom is a commonplace of anthropology. That custom is religious to\nthe core, for religion is only one aspect of the social polity.\nEveryone observes it, because upon it depends the weal of all alike.\nEveryone\u2019s eye too is upon his neighbour; and a departure from custom\nis sure to be noticed, and equally sure to be resented as something\nsinister. At the least it is viewed with suspicion and concern. Done\ninnocently, it will bring misfortune on the doer and all connected\nwith him. Done with a purpose, it is abhorred and punished as evil\nmagic. Happily the fear of witchcraft is not everywhere an obsession.\nWhere it is, as almost all over Africa, it has become the most\npowerful cause of the stagnation of culture. Mr Weeks, a missionary of\nlong {159} experience, and an admirable observer, speaking of the\nBangala on the Upper Congo, says the native \u201chas a wonderful power of\nimitation, but he lacks invention and initiative; but this lack is\nundoubtedly due to suppression of the inventive faculty. For\ngenerations it has been the custom to charge with witchcraft anyone\nwho commenced a new industry or discovered a new article of barter.\nThe making of anything out of the ordinary has brought on the maker a\ncharge of witchcraft that again and again has resulted in death by the\nordeal. To know more than others, to be more skilful than others, more\nenergetic, more acute in business, more smart in dress, has often\ncaused a charge of witchcraft and death. Therefore the native, to save\nhis life and live in peace, has smothered his inventive faculty, and\nall spirit of enterprise has been driven out of him.\u201d[159.1]\n\nThis deplorable result is attributable to the suspicion of antisocial\nends. It is this kind of magic which alone is reprobated in the lower\nculture. Death is very generally regarded as unnatural. If not caused\nby open violence, it must be due to spirits or to magic. Magic indeed\nis often deemed responsible for deaths by violence, or deaths credited\nto the immediate action of the spirits. Magic sets both causes in\nmotion. Hence at a death, however occasioned, an inquest is commonly\nheld to ascertain who is responsible; the accused is required to\nundergo an ordeal, and is punished if found guilty--as he usually is.\nBut it is not the practice of magic that is condemned; it is the\napplication of magic to the injury of the community. The chieftain of\na tribe of Bantu \u201csmells out\u201d and puts to death the witch who has\nslain his father. The same chieftain will habitually practise magic on\nanother chief before fighting with him. He {160} will make rain, or\nemploy a wizard for the purpose. His sacrifices and acts of worship\nare inextricably mingled with magic. Even when the schism between\nmagic and religion has attained much wider dimensions than anywhere\namong the Bantu, it is rather magic in its antisocial aspect than in\nitself that is reprobated and punished. The departure from established\ncustom and established belief involves a severance from the community\nand an imputation of antisocial ends. The pursuit of individual\ndesires and hatreds at odds with the general interest is what arouses\nthe anger of society. Practices essentially magical may be\nincorporated in religious rites and exercised for what is believed to\nbe the public good; and they will continue to be exercised with\ngeneral assent, even in the highest forms of religion.\n\n\n\n\n THE BOLDNESS OF THE CELTS\n\n{161}\n\n\u00c6lian, writing of the boldness of the Celts, relates that many of\nthem await the overflowing sea, some throwing themselves armed into\nthe waves and receiving their onset with drawn swords and threatening\nspears, just as if they could scare back or wound them.[161.1] This\nreport seems to have come to him in the shape of gossip; nor does he\nassign it to any tribe or definite locality. That there was some\nground for it, however, is to be inferred from the existence in the\nBook of Ballymote, an Irish manuscript of the end of the fourteenth\ncentury, of a short tradition, obviously of much earlier date,\nconcerning Tuirbhe Tr\u00e1ghmar, the father of Gob\u00e1n Saer, who owned\nTr\u00e1igh Tuirbhi. \u201c\u2019Tis from that heritage he, standing on Telach Bela\n(the Hill of the Axe), would hurl a cast of his axe in the face of the\nflood-tide, so that he forbade the sea, which then would not come over\nthe axe.\u201d[161.2]\n\nThe rhetorician perhaps regarded this Celtic practice as a useless\npiece of bravado, and only cited it by way of climax to his\nillustrations of Celtic daring and recklessness. There is little doubt\nthat to the Celts themselves it was quite different. The sea and the\nwaves were looked upon as personal beings with whom it was possible\nliterally to fight, and who might even be overcome. {162} Such a view\nis common to many seaboard peoples. A curiously parallel tradition is\nfound among the Malays at Jugra on the Selangor coast concerning the\nbore of the Langat River. This bore was conceived to be caused by the\npassage of a gigantic animal, probably a dragon. When it came up the\nriver the Malays used to go out in small canoes or dug-outs to \u201csport\namongst the breakers,\u201d frequently getting upset for their pains.\nEventually however, as Mr Skeat was told, the bore was killed by a\nMalay, who struck it upon the head with a stick. Whether from this\ncause or from the diversion of the stream into a new channel to the\nsea, there is no longer a bore in the river.[162.1] We may conclude\nthat the Malays who went out to sport among the breakers really went\nto assail the bore in force, and that when the bore ceased to flow the\nbelief arose that one of them had attacked it successfully and killed\nit.\n\nEuropean folk-tales have been found recording a similar belief. Among\nthe Basques we are told that a witch once determined to sink a certain\nfishing-boat and drown its crew. Her plan was to overwhelm it with\nthree immense waves, the first of milk, the second of tears, and the\nthird of blood. The boat might ride in safety over the first two; but\nthe third wave would be herself in person, and the only way to escape\nwould be to launch a harpoon into the midst of it: the weapon would\npierce her heart, and the boat with its crew would be saved. With the\nwant of caution which, fortunately for the heroes of folk-tales, is so\nremarkable a characteristic of cunning and malevolent beings, the plot\nwas laid in the hearing of the cabin-boy. At the critical moment he\nnerved his arm to fling the harpoon, and struck the wave in the midst.\nIt divided and dashed upon the shore, {163} covering all the strand\nwith a bloody foam. The bark was saved; but on his return the master\nfound his wife dying of her wound, for she was the witch who had\nplanned the destruction of her husband and his craft.[163.1] This\nBasque story, though only recorded in a literary version, appears to\nbe a genuine folk-tale, since it is also found substantially the same\namong the traditions of the Frisian Islands and Norway.[163.2]\n\nOther waters than the sea have likewise been endowed with personality.\nRivers and streams have everywhere been regarded as conscious beings,\nor (in a later stage of animism) as the haunt of such beings. Usually\nthey have been reckoned as endowed with a might too mystical and too\ntremendous to be attacked by man; but occasionally men of heroic mould\nhave been supposed to fight and overcome them. Professor Frazer has\nargued with probability that the angel who wrestled with Jacob at the\nford of the Jabbok was in the original tale the river-god himself, the\nawful spirit of the Jabbok.[163.3] He has not adduced any direct\nparallel in support of the conjecture, though the examples of\nofferings to streams for leave to cross them, of which he has\ncollected a number from various parts of the world, do show that these\nwaters are inhabited by supernatural beings, who must be treated with\nrespect and whose goodwill must be obtained. Where he has failed to\nfind parallels it is not likely that another can succeed. Yet it is\ncurious that he should have overlooked the {164} traditions of the\nwater-kelpie current in his native Scotland. Take one story told by Dr\nGregor concerning a water-kelpie who used to come out of the stream\nand visit the sheeling where a certain blacksmith\u2019s family and cow\nspent the summer. His visits, as was natural, caused terror and\nannoyance. At last the wife told the husband, who resolved to kill the\ncreature. The wife took fright at the proposal and tried to dissuade\nhim, under the fear that the kelpie would carry him off to his pool.\nHe was deaf to her appeals. Preparing two long, sharp-pointed spits of\niron, he repaired to the sheeling. He made a large fire on the hearth,\nand laid the two spits in it. In a short time the kelpie made his\nappearance as usual. The smith waited his opportunity, and with all\nhis might drove the red-hot spits into the creature\u2019s sides. It fell\non the ground like a heap of starch.[164.1]\n\nIn this case the kelpie was killed. More numerous are the tales in\nwhich he approaches a traveller in the shape of a horse and induces\nhim to mount; then he rushes to the pool, carrying the unwary man to\nhis death. Often, however, he can be caught and made to work, by\nthrowing over his head a bridle on which had been made the sign of the\ncross. When this was done, the creature became quiet and might be\nemployed in labour needing strength and endurance, like that of\ncarrying stones to build a mill or a farm-steading. When set free\nagain, he took his leave, repeating the words:\n\n \u201cSehr back an\u2019 sehr behns,\n Cairrit a\u2019 ----s\u2019 stanes.\u201d[164.2]\n\nIn Sweden the corresponding water-spirit--if that may be called a\nspirit which, as in all these cases, is regarded {165} as essentially\ncorporeal--is called the Neck, a word connected with Hnikarr, the Old\nNorse appellation of Odin regarded as a water-god, and with the\nNicors, or water-monsters referred to in _Beowulf_. The Neck is said\nto appear in various forms. Sometimes he is a grown man, and then\n\u201cparticularly dangerous to haughty and pert damsels\u201d; sometimes he is\na comely youth with his lower extremities like those of a horse;\nsometimes he is an old man with a long beard; occasionally a handsome\nyouth with yellow locks flowing over his shoulders and a red cap,\nsitting in a summer evening on the surface of the water with a golden\nharp in his hand. In return for a black lamb he is not unwilling to\ncommunicate his skill in music; and if the offering be accompanied by\nthe expression of a hope of his salvation, he is rendered especially\ngracious. For above all things he longs for eternal happiness; nor can\ndeeper distress be inflicted upon him than by denying this\npossibility. A Neck who takes up his abode under a bridge, or in a\nstream, is commonly called a _Str\u00f6mkarl_. He usually plays not on the\nharp but on the viol. Near Hornborgabro in West Gothland a Str\u00f6mkarl\nwas once heard singing to a pleasant melody these words thrice\nrepeated: \u201cI know--and I know--and I know--that my Redeemer liveth.\u201d\nHe is acquainted with a measure which, if played, will cause even\ninanimate things, as trees and stones, to dance; so powerful is his\nmusic.\n\nBut he appears in other forms. A favourite is that of a horse,\nsometimes described as with hoofs reversed. At Bohuus in West Gothland\nhe was caught by means of a cunningly contrived halter, from which he\ncould not break loose. His captor kept him all the spring and made him\nplough his fields. Only when once the halter accidentally slipped off\nwas the Neck able to escape this {166} slavery. He sprang like\nlightning into the water, dragging the harrow after him. The Neck also\ncauses disease. His appearance forbodes tempest. He haunts wells and\nmust be propitiated with offerings, or measures must be taken to\nrender him innocuous.[166.1]\n\nWithout pausing to analyse the complex character assigned to the Neck,\nit will be abundantly clear that he belongs to the same category as\nthe foregoing, and may be subdued by similar means. To fetch parallels\nto the spirit of the Jabbok from Scotland and Sweden may be thought\ngoing far afield. It is going no farther than Dr Frazer himself goes\nfor examples of the custom of propitiating river-spirits. The protest\noften uttered by cautious anthropologists against those who would cast\nthe net so widely has its reason. When we are dealing with customs it\nis well to remember that customs superficially alike may spring from\nquite different social organizations, and their real intentions may be\ndivergent or even opposite: in short, they may have nothing in common\nbut external resemblance. They cannot be understood without taking\ninto account the sequences of which they are often part, and the\nsocial organization and cultural condition from which they spring. It\nis otherwise when those great products of human imagination that\nanimate the world about us are concerned. The personalities believed\nto haunt mountain and stream, air and water, heaven and earth, are\nelemental conceptions, the inevitable offspring of the human mind in\nits intercourse with nature. Analogies discovered between them are\nreal analogies; they are the proofs of the essential oneness of\nmankind in the snow-hut of an arctic winter and the tree-shelter of a\ntropical forest. And when we find the relations believed to exist\nbetween such personalities {167} and human beings, the need of their\nconciliation or coercion in order to obtain benefits for their human\nworshipper or antagonist, and the means taken for this purpose, the\nsame, with only such variations as may be accounted for by differences\nof environment, then we may with confidence appeal to them as mutually\nillustrative.\n\nFor these reasons it would appear that we must regard such tales as\nthose of the kelpie and the water-bull of Scotland and the Isle of\nMan, or the Neck of Sweden, as illuminating the legend of Jacob\u2019s\nstruggle at the ford of the Jabbok. Professor Frazer rightly adduces\nas in some degree analogous the story of Menelaus catching the shy\nsea-god Proteus sleeping on the sands, and compelling him to say his\nsooth, as Jacob compels the angel to pronounce a blessing, and that of\nPeleus catching and conquering the sea-goddess Thetis to be his bride.\nHere we are reminded of a cycle of traditions found all over the\nworld, and known as the Swan-maiden cycle. The heroine of the tale is\na supernatural being, usually in the form of a bird which casts its\nfeathers like a robe and becomes human. The hero, possessing himself\nof the robe, acquires power over her and makes her his wife, only to\nlose her again when she recovers it. As told in Scotland and the\nadjacent isles, in the Faeroe Islands and Iceland, the lady is a\nseal.[167.1] It may be doubtful whether Thetis was ever so\nrepresented; but it is certainly most suggestive that Proteus was\ndiscovered sleeping among the seals. For it is not only for\nmatrimonial purposes that these supernatural beings are caught in\nmodern _m\u00e4rchen_. In a Tamil tale the hero {168} steals the dress of\none of a band of divine maidens, and thereby compels her to bring him\na certain divine parijata, or flower of the coral tree, which was\ndemanded by another lady as the price of her hand.[168.1] In the\nSpanish tale of The Marquis of the Sun, the Marquis is a great\ngamester. A man who played with him lost all he had, and then staked\nhis soul and lost it. To get it back he was advised to watch on the\nbanks of a river. Three princesses would come in the guise of doves,\ncast their feathers and bathe. He was to take the dress of the\nsmallest and thus compel her to show him the road to the Marquis her\nfather\u2019s castle.[168.2] It is true that both these adventures do\nresult in the hero\u2019s union with the bird-maiden. Such union is,\nhowever, incidental. In a Samoyed Swan-maiden story the heroine,\ncaptured in the usual way, flings the hearts of herself and her\nhusband, as well as of other members of his family, into the air; and\ntheir owners in consequence remain neither living nor dead. The\nhusband\u2019s father\u2019s sister goes in search of the hearts to the lake\nwhere the bride was captured, and finds her six sisters there swimming\nas before. She takes possession of the clothes of one of them, and\nthus compels her to restore the hearts of her relatives.[168.3] So\nthe hero of a tale told by a tribe on Vancouver Island is sent in\nsearch of his daughter, who has eloped with a wolf. He sees a number\nof young wolves playing at ball, having laid aside their mantles. He\nsets himself down beside the mantles, and in this way putting their\nowners to shame at being found naked, compels them to bring him to his\nson-in-law\u2019s abode.[168.4] The mantles are obviously the wolf-skins,\nlaid aside to enable their owners to appear in human form.\n\n{169}\n\nWolves are of course not water-spirits, like swans or seals; but they\nobey the same law as that imagined for the latter. The man who seizes\nsomething which is at once the symbol of their supernatural character\nand the source of their power, renders them helpless and compels them\nto his will. The contest is in these cases one of trickery and\ndetermination, rather than of strength. The captures of Proteus and of\nThetis, however, seem to have been effected by main force and a\nwrestler\u2019s skill. This is often the case with the capture of mermaids\nin the west of Europe. Hugh Miller long ago translated into literature\na local legend of Cromarty which told how John Reid captured on the\nshores of the Firth a mermaid, from whom he extracted as a ransom the\ngrant of three wishes, including prosperity and union with the maiden\nof his choice.[169.1] Mermaid-stories thus agree with kelpie-stories\nand with those of Proteus and the spirit of the Jabbok in assigning\nvictory to the strength and skill of the human wrestler.\n\nWater-spirits are not the only supernatural beings with whom men are\nrepresented in story as matching themselves. The Lushei clans of Assam\nbelieve in various demons that inhabit hills, streams and trees. They\nare called Huai, those inhabiting the water being known as Tui-huai,\nand those residing on the land as R\u0101m-huai. A certain sacrifice,\ngenerally of a big sow, is offered to the R\u0101m-huai. It is called\nSakhua. One night, towards morning, it is related, a R\u0101m-huai\nappeared to a man who had unwittingly neglected his Sakhua sacrifice.\nIt came into the straw where he was sleeping and wrestled with him\nuntil daylight. Even then it followed him and wrestled with him again;\nnor does the man seem to have been loth. At last he conquered the\nR\u0101m-huai, {170} who then told him that his Sakhua sacrifice was\nover-due; and he performed it at once. Sometimes the R\u0101m-huai appears\nas a tiger and sometimes as a man. On this occasion he seems to have\nbeen in human form.[170.1]\n\nYet even in such a contest the skill displayed may be much more than a\ntrick of _jiu-jitsu_. An example or two will suffice. In the Wild\nHuntsman of Teutonic lands anthropologists agree in recognizing\ntraditions of the god Woden. He is well known to the German rustic as\nWod. A tale from Mecklenburg represents a peasant as encountering him\none dark night in the form of a tall man on a white horse. The peasant\naccepts the stranger\u2019s challenge to pull against him, and grasps one\nend of a heavy chain, while the stranger ascends into the clouds with\nthe other end. The peasant knows that, if he lose, he is himself lost.\nHe quickly twists the end around a stalwart oak, and the Huntsman tugs\nin vain. A second and a third time the contest is renewed, after he\nhas persuaded the stranger that he is holding the chain, and it is\nonly his own strength that is being put forth. The oak-tree creaks and\ncrackles to its roots, but finally holds its ground. Wod owns himself\nvanquished, and rewards his courageous antagonist with a share of his\ngame--a haunch of venison, which turns to a rich booty of gold and\nsilver ere he reaches home.[170.2] We are indebted to Ovid for\nanother example. He tells us how Numa by the advice of Egeria\nentrapped Picus and Faunus, two ancient rustic deities who were wont\nto drink of a certain stream. The king tempted them by means of wine\nplaced beside the fountain; and when they had fallen into the slumber\nof intoxication he issued from his ambush and put them in chains. As\nthe price of freedom he compelled them to bring down Jupiter from the\nsky, to give him the famous {171} formula for averting the\nthunderbolt.[171.1] Innocents like these are of course easily caught\nwith strong drink. In Greek tradition Silenus, who as the son of a\nnymph was described as of condition inferior to the gods, but superior\nto mortals and to death, was not superior to some mortal weaknesses.\nIndeed, he was notoriously convivial. Hence he fell victim to a\nsimilar wile on the part of Midas, the Phrygian king. Nor was he\nreleased before he had revealed some astounding geographical and\nethnological information, that staggered the sceptical \u00c6lian when he\nfound it placed on record in the now lost pages of Theopompus.[171.2]\n\nSuch legends of contest are not confined to merely second-rate\npersonages like these subordinate or superseded divinities. When in\nthe _Iliad_ Diomed attacks and wounds Aphrodite, she goes crying to\nher mother. Dione by way of consolation recounts a list of Olympian\ngods who have grievously suffered in fight with headstrong and violent\nmen. It includes Ares, Hera, and Hades, all of them potent figures in\nGreek mythology. Ares was bound by Otus and Ephialtes, the sons of\nAloeus, and kept in durance vile for thirteen moons, until Hermes came\nto his rescue. Even he, it seems, was obliged to have recourse to\nsecret means to steal him away. The arrows of Herakles inflicted\ngrievous wounds on Hera and Pluto. And though naturally Dione\ndenounces untimely death as the penalty for such presumption, the\ninjuries received in the conflict are not all on one side.[171.3]\nOdin himself fights more than once in the Scandinavian lays and sagas\nagainst human antagonists. Nay, if M. A. J. Reinach\u2019s interpretation\nbe accepted, Jacob\u2019s {172} opponent at the ford of the Jabbok was no\nother than \u201cElohim in person.\u201d The growth of religious feeling, on\nthis theory, found this coarse representation abhorrent; and while the\nincident, being part of the sacred legends, could not be ignored or\nrepudiated, it was so altered as to obscure its real\nsignificance.[172.1]\n\nHowever this may be, tales like these are echoes of belief in the\npossibility of a successful corporeal struggle with the mysterious\npowers. They are blurred memories of the practice of threatening and\neven attacking what we call supernatural beings under their material\nmanifestations. Those beings were conceived, if not always in human\nform, at least as human in their wills and passions, hence in their\nmotives and modes of action. The only way in which they differed from\nhumanity was in their vaster and undefined powers. They were, to adopt\nMatthew Arnold\u2019s phrase, magnified, non-natural--that is to say,\nmysterious--men.[172.2] Thus conceived, they were accessible to every\nsort of influence that affected mankind, including coercion. But it\ntook a bold man to coerce them, though the task might be attempted\nupon occasion, even by ordinary mortals--not always with success.\nSometimes the contest is of a more distinctly intellectual character.\nThe trial of musical skill between Apollo and Marsyas will occur to\neveryone. The Egyptian king called by Herodotus Rhampsinitus is said\nto have penetrated to Hades and there played at dice with Demeter.\nVarying fortune attended him; but he was so far successful that he\nreturned with a golden handkerchief, the gift of the goddess. And the\nEgyptians {173} still in the historian\u2019s time celebrated a feast in\nmemory of the adventure.[173.1]\n\nIf we turn from legend to fact, we find the belief translated into\naction, into the attempt to control the supernatural by force. Thus\ndid Xerxes when he lashed the Hellespont and let down fetters into it,\nfor destroying the bridge he had endeavoured to build.[173.2] Thus\ndid the ancient priestesses of the Canary Islands when rain was too\nlong in coming: they beat the sea with rods to punish the spirit of\nthe waters for withholding the boon they needed.[173.3] In the same\nway (the tale is probably at least founded on fact), when the Nile had\nrisen to the height of eighteen cubits--higher than it had ever risen\nbefore--Pheros, the son and successor of Sesostris, is declared to\nhave taken a spear and driven it into the midst of the whirling\nwaters. It is added--and here we have a testimony to the recognition\nby the ancient Egyptians of the awful divinity whom the king had thus\nchallenged--that he was thereupon struck with a disease of the eyes\nand made blind.[173.4] The vengeance mentioned by Dr Frazer as taken\nby the Kakhyeen of Upper Burmah points distinctly to the same\nintention. \u201cIf some friend or relative has been drowned in crossing a\nriver, the avenger repairs once a year to the banks, and, filling a\nbamboo vessel with the water, hews it through with his _dah_ [sword]\nas if he were despatching {174} a living enemy.\u201d[174.1] The Korwas of\nChota Nagpur on a similar occasion shoot arrows into the\nriver.[174.2]\n\nAfter comparing these cases there can be little doubt that the Celtic\npractice of fighting the waves reported by \u00c6lian was not undertaken\nas a foolhardy piece of presumption, but literally as a combat with a\nfoe susceptible to such attacks, or (as the Irish text suggests) a\nnecessary proceeding in self-defence, lest otherwise the sea should\nencroach upon the land. The _orenda_ of the land-dwellers was pitted\nagainst that of the waters.\n\nThe conclusion will be confirmed by considering a few examples of the\ntreatment of divinities other than those of sea or river. The tribe of\nthe Getai, the bravest of the Thracians, were in the habit, during\nthunderstorms, of shooting arrows up to the sky and threatening their\ngod. It is indeed not clear what god they threatened. Usually it is\nunderstood to be the god Zalmoxis, pre-eminently the god of the Getai.\nBut he seems to have been a chthonic divinity; and as the text of\nHerodotus stands they recognized no other god. The historian\u2019s account\nof him is rationalized; and there is reason to think that he failed to\ngrasp all the essentials of the Getic religion: his own doubts on the\nsubject are more than hinted at. In shooting upwards, however, and\nuttering threats, the Getai must have menaced some being conceived\nmore or less in personal terms. This is sufficient for our present\npurpose.[174.3] The Atarantes, who dwelt ten days\u2019 journey from Mount\nAtlas, in like {175} manner cursed the sun when he was at his height\nand reviled him with all manner of foul terms, because he oppressed\nboth themselves and their land by his burning heat.[175.1] Among the\nBayaka of the Kasai district in the Congo State it is common to hear\npeople running about at night and shouting insults to Moloki, a\nmalignant spirit who has made them ill, or caused the death of a\nrelation.[175.2] The Bechuana, on the great central plain of South\nAfrica, ascribe changes of weather to the influence of the _manes_ of\ndeceased members of the tribe. They are called by the generic term\n_Barimo_, of which the singular form, _Morimo_, was adopted by the\nearly missionaries to translate God; and it is now frequently used\nwith that meaning. When hail damaged the crops, or rain fell\nunseasonably, Moffat tells us, Morimo would be cursed in the vilest\nlanguage. \u201cWould that I could catch it, I would transfix it with my\nspear!\u201d exclaimed in the missionary\u2019s hearing a chief whose judgement\non other subjects would command attention.[175.3] On the occasion of\nan earthquake a traveller saw the Bakwena women in an instant rushing\nout of their huts, with clubs and hoes in their hands, holding them up\nat the sky, and cursing God with most awful imprecations and demoniac\nyells.[175.4] The proceedings of the Zulus, neighbours of the\nBakwena, during a thunderstorm were thus described by a native to\nBishop Callaway: \u201cWhen it thunders the doctors go out and scold it;\nthey take a stick and say they are going to beat the lightning of\nheaven. They say they can overcome the lightning. They shout and take\nshields and sticks; they strike on their shields and shout. And when\nit clears away again {176} they say, \u2018We have conquered it.\u2019 They say\nthey can overcome the heaven.\u201d[176.1] The Hottentots curse the\nthunder and shoot their poisoned arrows at the lightning, telling him\nto be off. Some of them, however, adopt a milder course, assembling to\ndance and sing an incantation. Two specimens of these incantations\nhave been preserved. The thunder is thus addressed:\n\n \u201cSon of the Thunder-cloud,\n Thou brave loud-speaking Guru!\n Talk softly, please,\n For I have no guilt!\n Leave me alone (Forgive me)!\n For I have become quite weak (= I am quite stunned, perplexed).\n Thou, O Guru,\n Son of the Thunder-cloud!\u201d\n\nThe other incantation is addressed to the lightning. It is a dramatic\nperformance, the lightning being played by one person, the chorus\nrepresenting the appeal of the inhabitants of the kraal.\n\n _Chorus._\n  \u201cThou, Thunder-cloud\u2019s daughter, daughter-in-law of the Fire!\n  Thou who hast killed my brother!\n  Therefore thou liest now so nicely in a hole!\n\n _Solo._\n  (Yes) indeed, I have killed thy brother so well!\n\n _Chorus._\n  (Well) therefore thou liest (now) in a hole.\n  Thou who hast painted thy body red, like Goro!\n  Thou who dost not drop the menses,\n  Thou wife of the Copper-bodied man (the mythical ancestor of the\n    Hottentots)!\u201d[176.2]\n\n{177}\n\nPerhaps the sex of the lightning here may render it more amenable to\nthe softer arts of persuasion. The Bushmen used to look steadily at\nthe quarter whence the lightning came. They believed its object was to\nkill them by stealth, and that if they looked towards it they would\ncause the thunderbolts to turn back. It appears, they said, \u201cto fear\nour eye, when it feels that we quickly look towards it.\u2026 Therefore\nit goes over us; it goes to sit on the ground yonder, while it does\nnot kill us.\u201d[177.1] In other words, they believed themselves so\npowerful that the lightning quailed before them and did not dare to\nstrike. Among the Nandi, a Nilotic tribe of East Africa, it is the\nduty of the Toiyoi, or Thunder-clan, when a heavy thunderstorm occurs,\nto seize an axe and, having rubbed it in the ashes of the fire, to\nthrow it outside the hut, crying out: \u201cThunder, be silent in our\nvillage!\u201d[177.2] Among their neighbours (but not kinsfolk), the\nWawanga, an old man was recently found by a government official to\nhave stuck a curious-looking spear in an ant-hill in his village to\ndrive off the hail.[177.3]\n\nSimilar practices are found in the less advanced cultures of the New\nWorld. The Hurons of Canada were in the habit of sticking their\njavelins into the ground point upwards. The explanation they gave, as\nreported by the Jesuit Father, was that the thunder had intelligence,\nand it would, on seeing these naked javelins, turn aside and be\ncareful not to come near their cabins.[177.4] The Salinans of\nCalifornia possess an amulet which will stop the thunder, if it be\nheld in the hand and pushed out towards a thunder-cloud.[177.5] The\nGuaycurus of Paraguay, {178} great and small, on the occasion of a\ngreat storm of wind and rain, issued from their huts armed with clubs\nand sticks, and uttering terrible cries, to fight with the hurricane,\npersuaded that it was an attack on them by evil spirits, and that they\nmust defend themselves without showing cowardice.[178.1] According to\nlegends current at the time of the conquest, \u201cthe _hapi\u00f1u\u00f1u_, or\nbosom-clutching spirits, who were believed to have been the original\noccupants of the Peruvian valleys, were forcibly expelled by the early\nhuman inhabitants, immigrants from the country of the Guaycurus. When\nthe ancestors of the Incas arrived in the sierra \u2018from beyond\nPotosi\u2019--that is, from the Gran Chaco--these spirits, according to a\nfragment of an ancient song which has been preserved by an Indian\nwriter, disappeared with terrible cries, saying:\n\n \u2018We are conquered! We are conquered!\n Alas, for I lose my lands!\u2019\u201d[178.2]\n\nThe tribes of the Uaupes River in Brazil, after a funeral, shoot into\nthe air to chase away, and if possible kill, the evil-disposed spirit\nwhich has caused the death.[178.3]\n\nIn tropical surroundings, separated from the Hurons by nearly half the\nglobe, by the whole breadth of the Pacific Ocean and nearly the whole\nbreadth of the continent of North America, the Kai-folk of the Kai, or\nforest hinterland of the south-eastern coast of German New Guinea,\nadopt the very same measure as they for protection against the storms.\nLike their surroundings, their culture is widely different from that\nof the Hurons. They dwell in frail cabins raised upon posts, in order\nto secure them from the intrusion of their half-domesticated swine and\nthe attacks of the wilder animals. These huts {179} cluster on the\nmountain-side in tiny villages of from two to six. Their framework is\nof wood, bound together with tough lengths of a climbing plant. The\nwalls consist of long pandanus leaves; and they are thatched with\nleaves of the sago-palm, or with grass. It is obvious that such feeble\nstructures can offer little resistance to high winds. Happily\nwind-storms are of rare occurrence; but when they do come they wield\nterrific force, splitting or uprooting powerful trees. Against the\nonslaught of such foes, which, it need not be said, are regarded as\npersonal beings, the Kai-folk have more than one means of defence.\nThey take one of the jawbones of wild beasts which hang in the hut as\ntrophies of the chase, put it in the fire and pray the storm-spirit to\naccept the soul of the deceased animal and spare the house. But they\ndo not rely on the chance of placating the spirit; they oppose him\nwith threats and with weapons. They fasten a pointed stake or spear\nbefore the windward side of the house, its point turned to the wind,\nso that it will \u201cprick him in the belly,\u201d and thus compel him to leave\nthe hut in peace. Or they reply to each gust by striking the threshold\nwith a club or stone-axe, crying out: \u201cIf you tread here on my house,\nI will smash your feet!\u201d[179.1]\n\nAlmost all nations in the lower culture hold an eclipse to be the\nattempt on the part of some evil-disposed being to eat up or destroy\nthe sun or moon. The custom of terrifying and driving him away is too\nwell known to need illustration.\n\nIn these cases, though the supernatural being may be out of reach,\nthat does not hinder men and women from pitting their _orenda_ against\nhis; and as soon as the storm {180} or the eclipse comes to an end\nthey naturally vaunt their success. In the form of wind indeed he may\nbe held to descend to actual blows with his human opponents. Professor\nFrazer has collected a number of examples of fighting the storm and\nthe whirlwind.[180.1] Nor are those examples confined to such as\nalready recounted. Even in Europe eddies and gusts of wind are\nattacked without hesitation by peasants, whether Scottish, Breton,\nGerman, Slav, or Esthonian. A small whirlwind of the kind with which\nwe are all familiar is believed to be caused by a witch, who is\ncarried along unseen at its centre, and may be revealed and rendered\nharmless by launching some object, preferably a knife, into it. In the\nTirol a knife of special form is used for the purpose, on the blade of\nwhich are engraved nine St Andrew\u2019s crosses and nine crescent moons.\nIt wounds the witch as surely as the harpoon in the Basque tale cited\nat the beginning of this essay.[180.2]\n\nHere and in many of the other instances the supernatural being is\nregarded as actually hostile. At certain stages of evolution there is,\nhowever, as little hesitation in turning upon a god with whom one is\nusually on terms of friendship and submission. We have had some\nexamples of this. A god may provoke a worshipper, and human nature\nwill not always put up with the provocation. When he is found in\ntangible shape as an idol his {181} aggrieved client may even resort\nto corporal chastisement. Dr Farnell refers in this connection to the\npassage in the seventh idyll of Theocritus, where the poet mentions\nthe whipping of the image of Pan with squills when food was scarce,\nand to a Breton smith \u201cwho threatened the saint\u2019s image with red-hot\npincers to compel him to heal his son.\u201d[181.1] The two practices thus\nput together are not strictly parallel. Originally at least they were\nwidely different in purpose, though they have some outward\nresemblance. To beat the image of Pan with squills was not to punish\nthe god for neglect of duty, but to bring him into touch with the\npowers of growth, to drive out the barrenness that possessed him and\nto recreate his fructifying forces. It was a magical means of\nrestoring his life-giving properties. It may have been to some extent,\nlike punishment, a relief to the feelings of the beater; but the chief\nobject is unmistakably shown by the ritual requirement to beat with\nsquills.[181.2] It would seem, however, as if this had been forgotten\nby the time of Theocritus; for in the following lines (not cited by Dr\nFarnell) the poet goes on to threaten stinging with nettles in case of\nthe god\u2019s recalcitrance, as if this were the same sort of petty\ntorment.\n\nOn the other hand, means are often taken, like those of the Breton\nsmith, to compel a god to grant his suppliant\u2019s wishes, and in default\nto inflict indignity and injury. Pietro della Valle tells in his\n_Voyages_ of an image of Saint Anthony which was thus treated by\nPortuguese sailors. First of all, prayers were addressed to the image\nfor a favourable wind. The wind not being forthcoming, the {182} image\nwas taken from its shrine and lashed to the mast, in the beginning\nwith comparatively slack cords. The bonds were progressively tightened\nas the saint delayed to accede to his worshippers\u2019 demands. They were\nnot in a mood to stand any nonsense. The image before which they had\nknelt in prayer only a few hours earlier was now the object of curses\nand derision; and every day the wind was delayed a new cord was added\nto bind the sacred victim more tightly. At last, however, the wind\nchanged and blew from the quarter desired; the saint was loosed from\nhis uncomfortable position and replaced respectfully in his niche; the\nsailors thanked him, but mingled with their thanks reproaches for the\nobstinacy which had forced them to take severe measures with\nhim.[182.1] Saint Anthony indeed suffers much from his votaries. The\nSpanish population of New Mexico do not hesitate to hang his image\nhead downwards to urge him to his duty of performing miracles. Other\nobstinate saints they simply put away or imprison.[182.2] The modern\nAztecs give their sacred images a whipping when their prayers are not\nattended to. The Tarascos of Mexico make San Mateo responsible for the\nweather and the crops. When it freezes his image is taken from the\nchurch in the early morning and dumped into cold water as a\npunishment. On the other hand, he is rewarded for good crops by a\nprocession, a big feast, and abundance of brandy and tamales.[182.3]\n\nIn France, near the village of la Selle, on the highway from Autun to\nCh\u00e2teau Chinon, is a granite rock, on the top of which rustic piety\nhas erected a Calvary. Just below it is a little grotto that serves as\na niche to shelter {183} the statue of the good Saint Merri, the\npatron of the parish. Saint Merri has a reputation extending far and\nwide. Formerly on the stone at his feet might be seen offerings of\neggs and small change; and even yet pilgrimages are made to his shrine\nin pursuance of vows or for the cure of certain diseases. Among these,\nit would seem, as the offering of eggs may indicate, he was expected\nto cure sterility. It is related that a pious woman of a neighbouring\nvillage was in the habit of coming to implore the saint for her\ndaughter, who had been married for some years, but had had no\nchildren. She had another daughter, who was not married; and the saint\nmade a mistake: it was her unmarried daughter to whom a child was\ngranted. The good woman, enraged at a blunder so inexcusable, returned\nto the saint. Bitterly reproaching him with his mockery of her\nprayers, she took a stick and inflicted on him a sound castigation,\nbreaking his arm and rolling him over on the ground, where he long\nremained, a witness to his own unseemly jest and her righteous\nindignation. The inhabitants at last made a collection to buy a new\nsaint, which is now placed on a pedestal in the foreground of the\ngrotto, while the old and guilty saint is relegated shamefully to a\ncorner, and still bears the scornful title of the Weeper.[183.1]\n\nCorporal punishment of saints, otherwise than by way of penance during\ntheir mortal life, has never enjoyed official favour in any form of\nChristianity, however gratifying it may be to the feelings of\ndisappointed worshippers. So far as it is employed as a serious means\nof compelling attention to the needs and prayers of {184} their\nclients it is by no means confined to Christianity. Savage and\nbarbaric peoples do not hesitate to punish their idols in this manner.\nThe practice is reported from the Southern Pacific to the frozen\nshores of the Arctic Ocean in both hemispheres. Two or three examples\nwill suffice. The Eskimo who wander along the inhospitable coasts of\nUngava to the north of Hudson\u2019s Bay are attended each by a guardian\nspirit, often in the form of a doll carried somewhere about the\nperson. These spirits are not naturally benevolent. They must be\nabundantly propitiated with offerings of food, water and clothing, to\ninduce them to confer success and prosperity upon the man who may with\nequal propriety be termed their master or their worshipper. If the\nspirit prove obdurate and, like Saint Anthony, reluctant to grant the\nneedful assistance, its owner sometimes becomes angry with it and\ninflicts a condign chastisement, deprives it of food, strips it of its\ngarments, or even palms it off secretly on some unsuspecting friend,\nto his discomfort or injury.[184.1] When a chief dies in the district\nof Ibouzo, on the Niger, without leaving a son, his _Ikengua_, or\ndomestic wooden idol of the god of riches, is cut in two and flung\naway into the bush, because it has procured no male descendant for its\nworshipper.[184.2] A Brahman boy in India attended a mission-school,\nand was selected to compete in a tennis tournament. He and his two\nyounger brothers had each an image of Ganesa, which was kept in a\nshrine for worship. Previous to the tournament the images were taken\nout and solemnly threatened by the three brothers with something very\ndisagreeable if the eldest brother lost the match. He lost it. The\nbrothers returned home, and carried out their threat by pitching the\nthree {185} images into the well at the back of the house. The next\nday they sallied out and bought three new images of the god to replace\nthe old ones.[185.1] The Paraiyans of Southern India on the occasion\nof a drought invoke the d\u0113vata called Kodump\u0101vi (wicked one). \u201cThe\nceremony consists in making a huge figure of Kodump\u0101vi in clay, which\nis placed on a cart and dragged through the streets for seven to ten\ndays. On the last day the final death ceremonies of the figure are\ncelebrated.\u201d It is mutilated, and funeral rites are performed by the\ngrave-diggers. \u201cThis procedure is believed to put Kodump\u0101vi to\nshame,\u201d and to get her to induce her paramour Sukra, who has neglected\nhis duty, to stay the drought.[185.2] If this be so, it is evident\nthat the figure is not identified with the d\u0113vata, and the punishment\noperates by the mental rather than the corporeal annoyance inflicted\nupon her. Japan affords an example of righteous indignation expressing\nitself in castigation which is passing, or has already passed, into a\nspell. When the owner of a tea-house is dissatisfied with the number\nof his customers, the wooden pestle of the tub in which various kinds\nof meal and salt are mixed for the preparation of a certain dish is\ntaken out and struck through the uppermost paper panel of the door or\nwindow, so that it falls on the floor with a crash. Out come the\npeople of the house armed with sticks, brooms, and so forth; and they\nscold and thrash the pestle, making him responsible for the fewness of\ntheir guests. He is bound and thrown into a chest. If shortly\nafterwards the guests increase, the pestle is taken out of his prison,\nhis forgiveness is asked, and he is drenched with _saki_. It is hardly\nnecessary to observe that the pestle is a phallic representative, and\nthat the business of a tea-house {186} often extends to the\nentertainment of a guest in more ways than one.[186.1]\n\nThe practice, however, is so well known that it would be waste of time\nto multiply illustrations. I will only add that in the valley of the\nNile, in the days when the worship of animals, whatever its exact\norigin or meaning, prevailed, the sacred beasts were carefully tended\nand trained, and all their wants were provided for. In return they\nwere expected to grant their worshippers\u2019 wishes. If they \u201ccould not\nor would not help in emergency they were beaten; and if this measure\nfailed to prove efficacious, then the creatures were punished by\ndeath;\u2026 and it was the priests themselves who condemned and executed\nthe sacred animal. Afterwards indeed they sought to secure its\nimmortality by the embalmment of the body, thereby hoping to appease\nthe wrath of the god, lest he should avenge the killing of the\ncreature in which he had been incarnate.\u201d[186.2] There is such a\nthing as carrying punishment too far, especially when you cannot carry\nit far enough to put an end to a being of indefinite but superhuman\npower, who will bottle up his anger until he can catch you off your\nguard. This inconvenience is incident to the theory evolved by\nEgyptian syncretism that the sacred animals were incarnations of the\ndivinities.\n\nAnother method of dealing with a god or any supernatural being is to\nbind and imprison him, if you can catch him. This needs but a cursory\nmention here. It has been dealt with at some length by Mr William\n{187} Crooke, who has ingeniously suggested that the Homeric story,\nalready referred to, of the binding and imprisonment of Ares by Otus\nand Ephialtes owes its origin to this practice.[187.1] In any case it\nis a common expedient for the laying of a ghost. I was privileged to\nlive for some years in a house concerning which one of these\nghost-laying traditions was told; and so far as my experience goes the\nexpedient was entirely successful. It is still in use by medicine-men\nfor delivering their clients from the persecution of troublesome\nspirits. Among the Bangala of the Upper Congo \u201csometimes the\nwitch-doctor will drive the spirit into a saucepan or calabash, and\neither kill it or imprison it.\u201d[187.2]\n\nObviously the adage \u201cFirst catch your hare\u201d applies here. The\nsupernatural being cannot always be caught. But he may be driven away.\nDr Frazer has illustrated very fully the widespread practice of\nexpelling evils considered as personal beings either periodically or\noccasionally by ceremonies of violence or of enticement, persuasion\nand magical spells.[187.3] The ancient Scandinavians seem to have\ninstituted solemn legal proceedings against troublesome ghosts. There\nis a remarkable story in the _Eyrbyggia Saga_ of a number of malignant\nghosts who haunted the settlement at Frodiswater with disastrous\neffects to men and stores. The Christian priest sang the hours there,\nmanufactured holy water and shrived all folk. This was not enough to\ndisperse the ghosts, who had audaciously come and sat by the fires, to\nthe horror of the survivors, and devastated the place with sickness\nand misfortune. It was but the preparation for the stringent measures\nto follow. The bed-gear of Thorgunna, the deceased stranger-woman who\nhad started {188} the mischief, was burned. The ghosts were summoned\nto a door-doom; \u201cand it was done in all matters even as at a doom of\nthe Thing: verdicts were delivered, cases summed up and doom given.\u201d\nThe ghosts attended in obedience to the summons. As each was found\nguilty he was sentenced to depart. \u201cBut as soon as the sentence on\nThorir Wooden-leg was given out, he rose and said: \u2018Here have I sat\nwhile sit I might\u2019\u201d; and thereafter he stumped out by the door\nopposite to that before which the court was holding its session. Thus\nthey were banished one after another; \u201cand each arose as the sentence\nfell on him, and all said somewhat at their going forth; but ever it\nseemed by the words of each that they were all loth to depart.\u201d Last\nof all judgement was given upon Thorod, the recently deceased goodman\nof the house, \u201cand when he heard it he stood up and said: \u2018Meseems\nlittle peace is here; so get us all gone otherwhere\u2019; and therewith he\nwent out. Then in walked Kiartan [the heir] and his folk, and the\npriest bare hallowed water and the holy things throughout the house;\nand on the next day they sang all the hours and mass with great\nsolemnity; and so there was an end thereafter to all walkings and\nhauntings at Frodiswater.\u201d[188.1]\n\nWhat is important to observe here is the entire respect paid by the\ncriminal _revenants_ to the formal and deliberate decision of the\nsociety against which they had sinned. They obeyed it as they would\nhave obeyed it in their lifetime. In heathen times, out of which\nIceland had scarcely emerged, the Thing was the lawful assembly of the\nwhole community. Its doom outlawed those members who were convicted of\nantisocial conduct, and such was undoubtedly the conduct of the dead\nwho returned to {189} harm the living. Though dead they were still\nmembers of the society and subject to its laws. By those laws it was\ntheir duty to abide in the howe, or grave-mound, and thence watch over\nthe well-being of the family, receiving in return a cult. The\nauthority of the Thing extended to all matters interesting the\ncommunity, religious as well as political, juridical and\nadministrative. Under Christianity, and the advancing civilization of\nwhich it was a part, the religious authority was beginning to be\nseparated from its control, of which perhaps we may see a hint in the\nnarrative. But the religious officials were acting in unison with the\nrest, though hardly now as part of them. On the other hand, the cult\nof the dead was no longer officially recognized. It is improbable that\nit had ceased; and assuredly the defunct were still charged with the\nnegative duty of remaining quietly in the howe and abstaining from all\nmolestation of those whom they had left behind. There may be some\ndoubt as to the technical status of the assembly which dealt with the\ncase. If not a local and subordinate Thing, it seems at least to have\nbeen a properly constituted tribunal, proceeding in a perfectly\nregular manner, and carrying in its decisions the force of law. It had\nprobably not yet become entirely divested of spiritual jurisdiction,\nor at least of spiritual prestige, which may indeed be taken to be\nsanctioned and supported by the countenance and assistance of the\npriest of the new religion. The ghostly transgressors recognized its\nauthority, the propriety of its procedure, the justice and the binding\ncharacter of its sentence; and however much they grudged it, they\nsubmitted.\n\nIt need not be said that more summary measures were often taken with\nthose who \u201cwalked\u201d after death to the inconvenience of the survivors.\nThey consisted in {190} digging out and destroying the corpse, or\ndealing with it in a way similar to that used with vampires, which are\nindeed one species of these troublesome visitors. Examples are not\nuncommon in the Norse sagas, and are plentiful in the folklore of the\nScandinavian and other countries.\n\nAn alternative to driving away the supernatural being is to threaten\nand insult him. Of this I have in previous pages given some examples.\nThe ancient Greeks had a technical term for formul\u00e6 of this kind.\nThey called them \u03b8\u03b5\u1ff6\u03bd \u1f00\u03bd\u03ac\u03b3\u03ba\u03b1\u03b9, compulsions of the gods. It will be\nsufficient to refer to a few cases of insult employed by different\npeoples in all seriousness, and often in the sacred ritual. When a\nsacrifice is offered to the ancestral _manes_ by the Thonga of\nSouth-Eastern Africa on the occasion of sickness in the family, they\nare told: \u201cYou are useless, you gods; you only give us trouble! For\nalthough we give you offerings, you do not listen to us! We are\ndeprived of everything! You [naming the ancestral spirit who is\naddressed as the cause of the evil] are full of hatred! You do not\nenrich us! All those who succeed do so by the help of their gods!\u201d We\nare informed that when some great misfortune is the occasion for a\nspecial sacrifice, the request presented in the prayer is preceded or\nfollowed by a ritual insulting of the gods (_manes_). \u201cThere are two\nwords used to designate this curious part of the prayer: _holobela_,\nto scold the gods, or _rukatela_, the real word for _to\ninsult_.\u201d[190.1] Here it must not be forgotten that the personages\naddressed are {191} members of the family. It is true that they have\nbeen divinized by death, but their family relationship has not been\ndissolved. They have still their duties to perform, as well as the\nsurvivors; and if they neglect them a family quarrel may reasonably be\nthe consequence, as it might in their lifetime.\n\nThis method of bullying divinities is well known in India. A pair of\nexamples from the extremities of the peninsula will suffice. Parakutty\nis a debased form of Vishnu (or perhaps it may be more correct to say\nan aboriginal demon identified with Vishnu), worshipped by some of the\nlow castes in Cochin. The Nayadis are a jungle tribe reputed to be\nskilful hunters. Parakutty is supposed to aid them in hunting. When\nthey fail to get the expected game they abuse him for his ingratitude,\nand for betraying the trust they have reposed in him. He is also the\nfavourite deity of the Parayans. A Paraya magician is frequently\ncalled in to assist in recovering stolen property. He invokes\nParakutty for the purpose. If the property be not recovered the\nmagician prays again, this time in a more indignant and abusive form,\nand he thinks that then his object is sure to be gained.[191.1] In\n_The Legends of the Panjab_, Sir R. C. Temple gives a long poem in\nwhich a woman in trouble expresses her intention of cursing her patron\nsaint Gorakh N\u00e2th for the misfortunes that have befallen her.[191.2]\nIn the same spirit Charlemagne, in the romances, is made to threaten\nGod to throw down his altars and make the churches with all their\npriests cease from the land of the Franks.[191.3]\n\nGreat and awful as gods may be, they are after all but {192} human.\nThe most mysterious of them are conceived in quasi-human terms. On the\nother hand, human beings are often looked upon as gods and treated\naccordingly. But then their treatment is simply that of powerful men,\nmen possessed of and filled with a greater or less degree of _mana_,\nwho therefore require to be handled gingerly, like an unexploded bomb.\nSuch a man-god, if a native ruler or fellow-tribesman, can seldom be\ndriven away; but he may, especially if his _mana_ be suspected of\ndeparting from him, be attacked and slain. To expound this practice\nand the belief on which it is founded, or with which it is bound up,\nDr Frazer\u2019s great work, _The Golden Bough_, has been written. The\nwhite man, like the gods, is to peoples in the lower culture\nmysterious, powerful, endowed with _mana_. To that extent he is the\nobject of wonder and fear, he is a god. Yet he may be fought and\noverpowered, killed or driven away. Of the Bangala in the Upper Congo\nbasin we are told that before the unknown and mysterious the native\n\u201cis timid, fearful, and very superstitious. He will regard you as a\n_god_, and yet try to fight you; he will superstitiously believe that\nyou have wonderful occult powers that can stop the rain, cause\npestilence and plagues; and yet he will not attempt to conciliate you,\nbut he will savagely tell you to clear out of his town and take your\nwitchcraft elsewhere.\u201d[192.1]\n\nSo and not otherwise the savage treats his gods. Where milder means\navail not, and he can get his way by rough treatment of the idols or\nother tangible forms in which they are presented, he does not hesitate\nto use physical force. As little will he hesitate to use guile to eke\nout his inferior strength. It is but another manifestation of his\n_orenda_. Hence the tales of audacious heroes {193} who have measured\ntheir strength or their cunning against more tremendous personages.\nHence the threats and insults addressed to powers beyond immediate\nreach by peoples all over the world. Hence the punishment inflicted on\nthe images of gods and saints. Hence the boldness of the Celts.\n\n\n\n\n THE HAUNTED WIDOW\n\n{194}\n\nAccording to the legend of Osiris as preserved for us by Plutarch,\nthe slain divinity accompanied with Isis, his sister-wife, after his\ndeath, with the result that she had by him a child whose name is given\nin Greek form as Harpocrates.[194.1] Doubt has been thrown by some\nEgyptologists upon the accuracy of Plutarch\u2019s report; but it is\nprobably correct. At all events the incident is fairly widespread both\nin tale and superstition, as I shall proceed to show.\n\nAmong the Chinese the dead of both sexes have always been held capable\nof sexual intercourse with the living. A favourite topic of Chinese\ntales is that of a belated wanderer entertained by a liberal host or\nhostess and passing the time in agreeable conversation, eating,\ndrinking, sleeping and sexual intercourse, and then suddenly awaking\nto find himself or herself, as the case may be, in or on a tomb, with\nno trace of human dwelling near. Visits are paid by the dead to the\nliving for various purposes, from which the enjoyment of the pleasures\nof married life are not excluded. One famous story concerns a man of\nthe Ma clan, who died childless, leaving a wife who refused to marry\nagain. In her sorrow she {195} caused to be made a clay image of the\ndeceased and offered something to it whenever she took a meal, as she\nhad done to her husband in his lifetime. One night the image became\nanimated, and telling her that he was her husband permitted to return\nand solace her fidelity and chastity, he passed the night with her,\nrising at cockcrow and going away. The visit was repeated every night,\nwith the result that before the end of a month she had conceived and\nin due time bore a son. Information was laid before the magistrate and\nthe woman was arrested. On hearing her story the magistrate said: \u201cI\nhave heard that the children of ghosts are shadowless, and that those\nthat have shadows are not genuine.\u201d He took the child into the\nsunshine, and lo, its shadow was as faint as a light smoke. He further\ntested it by pricking its finger and putting the blood on the clay\nimage of the woman\u2019s husband, into which it soaked without leaving a\ntrace, whereas smeared on another image it was wiped off at once.\nThese experiments convinced the magistrate that the woman\u2019s tale was\ntrue; and all traces of suspicion subsequently vanished when, as the\nboy grew up, he was found closely to resemble the deceased in face,\ngesture and speech.[195.1]\n\nGans\u00e1m, a divinity worshipped by the Mu\u00e1s\u00eds and Gonds of Bengal, is\nsaid to have been a Gond chief who was devoured by a tiger just after\nhis marriage at an early age. \u201cCut off at such a moment, it was\nunreasonable to suppose that his spirit would rest. One year after his\ndeath he visited his wife, and she conceived by him; and the\ndescendants of the ghostly embrace are, it is said, living to this day\nat Amodah in the Central Provinces.\u201d As a result of other apparitions\nto many of his old friends he persuaded them to inaugurate a regular\nworship of {196} him, and two festivals in the year were established\nin his honour.[196.1] Not in all cases, however, do the deceased\nhusband\u2019s visits to his widow result in the birth of a child. The\nlegend of Z\u00e1hir Pir, the saint of a Mohammedanized caste of\nscavengers about Benares, relates that he was involved in strife with\nhis mother\u2019s sister\u2019s sons, who disputed his succession to his\nfather\u2019s kingdom, and slew them. For this he was cursed by his mother\nnever to see her face again. In his anguish he called upon Mother\nEarth to receive him into her bosom. On her refusal, because, being a\nHindu, he was not burnt, he made a pilgrimage to Mecca and accepted\nIslam. Afterwards renewing his petition, the earth opened and\ndisclosed a chapel as for a hermit. Z\u00e1hir Pir entered on his charger,\nand the earth closed above him and his devotions. Siryal, his widow,\nreduced with his mother to poverty, mourned him and cried: \u201cMother\nEarth, give me back my husband!\u201d By God\u2019s command the earth yielded\nhim up to visit her nightly; but every morning at daybreak he flew\naway on his winged charger. Siryal had discarded her jewels as became\na widow when she lost her husband. Now that she received these secret\nvisits she resumed them as a matron. When her mother-in-law upbraided\nher, saying: \u201cWhat means this wanton finery?\u201d she returned: \u201cTo thee\nthy son is dead: to me my husband is alive.\u201d In explanation of the\nriddle she placed her beneath the bedstead at night that she might see\nher son. But when Z\u00e1hir Pir came at midnight his aged mother had\nfallen into a deep sleep, which was undisturbed by the caresses above\nher; nor was it until he had quitted the bed and vaulted into the\nsaddle that Siryal could rouse her. She started up and clutched his\nbridle. Even then her curse prevented her from {197} seeing her son\u2019s\nface. \u201cI do but obey thy bidding,\u201d he groaned, turning his face away.\n\u201cLook back! thy house is burning.\u201d[197.1] So among the Calmucks we\nhear of a khan who, being married to a wife whom he did not love,\nresorted to a girl living a little distance away. His visits resulted\nin her pregnancy; but before the birth of her child he died. Death\ndoes not prevent him from carrying her off to his funeral rites, nor\nfrom afterwards paying her marital visits on the fifteenth of every\nmonth, and spending the night with her, disappearing in the morning.\nWhen she urges him to stay, so that his mother may see him and be\nconvinced of her truth, he gives her directions to go to the place of\nthe dead and fetch his heart. This she accomplishes, and thus recovers\nhim as her husband permanently.[197.2] The islanders of the East\nIndian Archipelago are profoundly convinced that various kinds of\nspirits can have similar intercourse with human beings. The spirits of\nthe dead are not excepted from this belief; and albinos are held to be\ntheir offspring by a living mother. A famous priest-king of the\nToba-bataks, called Singa Mangaraja, owed his birth to this\ncause.[197.3]\n\nA story is told by the Dene (Athapascans) of the northern provinces of\nCanada concerning a man who one night suddenly disappeared from his\nwife\u2019s side, and in the morning, in the ashes of the hearth, were\nfound the cloven footprints of a reindeer: he had been transformed.\n{198} His wife was an adept in magic. By its aid she became an expert\nhunter, and after the loss of her husband supplied the family,\nconsisting of her mother and little son, with food. As her son grew\nup, he in turn hunted and successfully snared reindeer. One day he\ncaught a reindeer with human hair between its horns. He brought its\ncarcase to his mother, who had constantly mourned her husband. She at\nonce recognized the dead reindeer as her husband. Lying down along\nwith it, the animal revived and once more became man. Thus she\nrecovered the husband whom she had loved, and for whom she had so long\nsorrowed. The story is \u00e6tiological, told to explain why so many\nreindeer are caught with snares made of magical bonds of pine-root,\nand why certain parts of the reindeer are not eaten.[198.1]\n\nPlutarch mentions that Harpocrates was born lame, that is to say, with\nhis lower limbs feebly developed, and interprets this as a parable of\nthe new corn with its tender and imperfect shoots. We find, however,\nthat the offspring born of the unnatural connection with a dead man is\nrepresented as being as remarkable as the manner of his generation,\nand not infrequently monstrous. We have seen that the Toba-bataks thus\naccount for the birth of an albino. A story told by the Transylvanian\nGypsies concerns a girl named Mariutza of the Chale tribe, the\ndaughter of a wealthy chief. She loved a youth named Jarko, to whom\nher father refused to give her. Her brothers caught her in his arms\none night, and slew him. They killed one of their father\u2019s horses and\nburied it with him in a grave on the edge of the forest, spreading the\nreport abroad that he had fled and would never return to the tribe.\nShe was not a witness of his death, and did not know what had become\nof him. One {199} night, unable to sleep, she went out of the tent,\nsat down beside a brook and wept bitterly, crying aloud: \u201cOh that I\ncould once more see him, dead or alive!\u201d Hardly had she uttered the\nwords when she heard the ring of a horse\u2019s hoofs, and her lover\ngalloped up on a white steed, his clothing covered with blood and his\nhair with icicles. He took her up; and the steed made off to the\ngrave, where he lay down with her in his arms. She rested thus in her\nlover\u2019s arms until day began to break, when he sent her back to her\ntent, charging her to cease from disturbing his rest any further with\nher tears. As she hurried away the grave closed. After nine months she\nbore a great stone that flew from tent to tent until it met her\nbrothers, and, striking them on the head, hurled them both dead to the\nground. Then it disappeared; and when folk came to look for Mariutza,\nshe too lay dead on her bed.[199.1] In a modern Icelandic tale a\nyouth and maiden love one another, but are prevented from marrying.\nThe youth dies, but after death visits his beloved by night. An old\nwoman in whom she confides compels the dead man to confess. He tells\nher that the girl is pregnant, and will bear a son who will surpass\nall men in beauty and intellect, and will become a priest; but unless\nsomeone be found bold enough to stab him in the breast during his\nfirst mass, the church will sink into the earth with all the people in\nit. It was done; and the young priest disappeared, leaving behind on\nthe floor of the church nothing but three drops of blood.[199.2]\n\nIn Brittany a story is told with much circumstance of place and name,\nrelating how a peasant-farmer of the village of Keranniou died,\nleaving a wife much younger {200} than himself and seven children.\nAfter death he reappeared as ghost, and played a variety of tricks. At\nlength his widow found herself pregnant, and, seeking the priest,\nconfessed with tears that the deceased had lain with her several\ntimes, insisting that he had been sent back by God because he had not\nhad his full tale of children. The duty of bringing into the world\none\u2019s allotted number of children, it may be observed, is a motive in\nmany of the grimmer Breton stories. As her condition became visible\nthe neighbours taunted the unfortunate widow; but the priest took her\npart openly in the church. A child was born, but without eyes. The\nghost appeared again, and took far more interest in it than in any of\nthe children born during his lifetime. The child was extremely\nprecocious, but lived only for seven months. When it died the dead\nman\u2019s ghost was seen to accompany the funeral procession. From that\nhour he was never beheld again; and the villagers said he had been\nwaiting for the babe to lead him by the hand to Paradise.[200.1] A\nsimilar incident is found as far away as among the Bella Coola of the\nBritish Columbian fiords. There a husband and wife who were devoted to\none another made vows of mutual fidelity, even after the death of\neither of them. The husband died; and his body was placed, as was\nusual, in a little dead-hut. The widow wept bitterly, entered the\ndead-hut and lay down to sleep beside the corpse. In her dreams she\nsaw him once more alive. He begot upon her a child, which was born\nafter the lapse of a fortnight. It was not like other children, for it\nconsisted only of a head without a body. The widow was unwilling to\nexhibit such a monster; but her mother did not rest until she was\nallowed to take it in her arms. When she saw what it was she let it\nfall {201} in terror. The head sank into the earth and disappeared\nfrom view.[201.1]\n\nCases like these suggest that Plutarch\u2019s view of the crippled\ncondition in which Harpocrates was born is not to be accepted. It does\nnot necessarily follow that the interpretation of Osiris as a deity of\nvegetation, adumbrated by the philosopher and adopted by Professor\nFrazer, is wholly incorrect. We are in error if we suppose the myth of\nOsiris to be one and self-consistent. The myths of Osiris were\ninnumerable. The realm of Egypt was formed by the union of a number of\nsmall independent states or communities. Each of these communities had\nits own customs, institutions, beliefs, _m\u00e4rchen_. Many stories told,\nwhether for serious credence or by way of pastime, in every district\nwere doubtless common to all Egypt. But probably even they had their\nlocal variants; and these variants must often have been\nirreconcilable. The phenomenon is familiar. It is abundantly\nexemplified in the tales of the Greek and Scandinavian mythologies. In\nEgypt, however, the formation of a strong central authority, and the\nconsequent growth and maintenance during many ages of a powerful and\neducated priesthood, were among the influences that led to a\npersistent attempt to unify and explain the principal divine myths, to\nattach them to the various local and periodical solemnities already\nobserved from time immemorial, and to educe from the jumble something\nlike a system, a philosophy. Whether in this process an originally\nindependent myth had become united with a series of agricultural\nrites, or whether a myth previously annexed to such rites had acquired\nan independent existence by virtue of a higher inspiration, {202}\nmatters not to us. The story of Osiris is found on the Egyptian\nmonuments in a number of frequently disconnected texts, of which there\nis no authoritative canon. Among those texts the exact status and\nmeaning of the Harpocratian episode is probably a subject on which the\nEgyptians themselves would have been unable to agree. We can hardly be\nwrong in indulging our scepticism at the expense of Plutarch\u2019s\ninterpretation, though he may simply have reported it as it was given\nto him. The parallel tales, whether of Europe or America, at least are\npurely human. They yield no trace of vegetable symbolism. They are\nfounded upon impulses and beliefs that have all over the world\ninfluenced the conduct of men towards the supernatural.\n\nIt was a common belief in antiquity, and thence through the Middle\nAges and right down, among the uneducated classes, to modern times,\nthat dead men and other supernatural beings might have intercourse\nwith living women. Upon this belief and the innumerable tales\nconnected therewith was founded B\u00fcrger\u2019s famous ballad of\n_Lenore_.[202.1] The story told by Herodotus of the paternity of\nDemaratus, King of Sparta, is an early example. Demaratus, being\naccused of not being the son of his predecessor, Ariston, adjured his\nmother in a solemn ceremony to tell him the truth. Her account was\nthat, on the third night after her marriage to Ariston, an apparition\nin his likeness and wearing garlands came to her, and, having embraced\nher in conjugal wise, transferred to her the garlands it wore and\ndeparted. Ariston, coming in afterwards, saw the garlands and asked\nwho had given them to her. She told him he had done so himself; and\nwhen he denied {203} it she confirmed it with an oath. Ariston then\nbegan to suspect divine interference. On making enquiry it was found\nthat the garlands were from the adjacent temple of the hero\nAstrabakus; and the diviners identified the apparition with the hero\nhimself. In that night Demaratus\u2019 mother became pregnant of\nhim.[203.1] Satyrs and Fauns, under the name of _incubi_, were\ngenerally held to be guilty of criminal assaults upon women when\nopportunity offered. Among the Gauls, we are told by Saint Augustine,\nthis kind of evil spirit was known as Dusii; and their constant\nexploits, as well as those of the Silvans and Fauns, were so well\nattested that to the great ecclesiastic it seemed it would be impudent\nto deny them.[203.2]\n\nIncubi were identified by later theologians with devils; and their\nembraces were almost always an item in the accusation against witches\nbefore a legal tribunal. When offspring resulted, it was naturally a\nmonster. The romance of Merlin, born of such a connection, born grisly\nto sight and rough and not as other children, was cited as a fact by\nthe credulous writers of those days on witchcraft and\ndemonology.[203.3]\n\n{204}\n\nAccording to Bulgarian belief a ghost against which proper precautions\nare not taken may cause, especially in the winter, much annoyance.\nSuch ghosts may even have sexual intercourse with women. As lately as\nthe year 1888, at the village of Orzoja, the death of a certain girl\nwas attributed by the people to this cause.[204.1] A Ruthenian story\nrepresents a dead husband as haunting his wife every night for a whole\nyear. Whether he actually came to conjugal intercourse does not\nappear. However that might have been, he gave her no rest from his\nbodily attacks. Worn out, she sought for help against him, and was\nadvised to take poppy-seed to bed with her, to fasten upon her head a\nlarge bowl, and to light a taper. When the dead man came as usual she\nthrew the poppy-seed in his face, as she had been prescribed. He asked\nin a tone of surprise who had given her this advice. By way of answer\nshe threw more. In a fury the dead man flung himself upon her, by main\nforce tore the bowl from her and took to flight, apparently convinced\nthat he had torn off her head. The door banged after him so violently\nas to split from top to bottom; and in the morning the bowl was found\nsome distance away, smashed to pieces. But the woman was delivered\nfrom her tormentor from that hour.[204.2]\n\nSir Walter Scott\u2019s novel, _The Pirate_, was based on the deeds and\ncapture of one John Gow. This man was taken prisoner in the Orkney\nIslands and afterwards tried before the High Court of Admiralty in\nLondon, condemned for piracy and executed. Before his capture he had\nbecome affianced to an Orcadian girl. \u201cIt is {205} said,\u201d writes Sir\nWalter in the advertisement prefixed to the book, \u201cthat the lady whose\naffections Gow had engaged went up to London to see him before his\ndeath, and that, arriving too late, she had the courage to request a\nsight of his dead body; and then, touching the hand of the corpse, she\nformally resumed the troth-plight which she had bestowed. Without\ngoing through this ceremony she could not, according to the\nsuperstition of the country, have escaped a visit from the ghost of\nher departed lover, in the event of her bestowing upon any living\nsuitor the faith which she had plighted to the dead.\u201d[205.1] In the\nOrkney Islands these superstitions were then vivid. If we may judge by\na phrase in the record of a witch-trial at Kirkwall, it was the belief\nin the early part of the seventeenth century that a man slain at the\ngoing down of the sun remained neither living nor dead, but was\ncapable of sexual intercourse with any woman who would yield herself\nto him; in return for which he gave \u201ca guidly fe,\u201d in the shape of\nsecond sight and power of divining the future.[205.2] A\ncircumstantial and horrible account of a series of occurrences of the\nsame period in Iceland is given by contemporary authorities. A man of\nposition named Ivar Eyjulfsson was wedded to Herdis, daughter of Sera\nMagnus Jonsson of Ottrardal. They lived at Reykjarfj\u00f6rd on\naffectionate terms; and the husband often prayed his wife in case of\nhis death not to marry again, or something untoward would happen. In\nthe year 1604, despite foreboding dreams during the whole of the\nprevious winter, he went to sea with four companions. On taking leave\nof his wife and father-in-law {206} as if he never expected to see\nthem again, he reiterated his injunctions to her to remain single. A\nquarrel arose at sea between Ivar and one of his companions named Jon;\nthe boat foundered, and Ivar, Jon, and another of the crew were\ndrowned. The bodies came to shore at Langardal, and were buried in the\nchurchyard there. On digging the grave an older grave, lying in\nheathen fashion north and south, was found; and just where the breast\nof the corpse lay was a great stone, and beside it an iron arrowhead.\nThis incident seems to have been regarded as having some connection\nwith the spooks which were subsequently manifested. Whatever that\nconnection may have been, it speedily began to be noised abroad that\nIvar and Jon \u201cwalked,\u201d and that their quarrel was far from being ended\nwith their death. After a year or two of widowhood Herdis was courted\nby an honourable man, one Sturla Gottskalksson, and on her father\u2019s\nadvice consented to marry him. Already, however, she had been\nsuffering from an ulcer on the foot; and after she had given her\nconsent to Sturla it became worse. Nor was this all. One night her\nfirst husband came to her bed and had intercourse with her. Another\nnight she struggled with him, seizing the coverlet with her teeth to\nprotect herself from him. One disaster followed another. A black\nblister on her tongue burst and sloughed away half of that member. In\nspite of all, the formal betrothal took place; but it was followed by\nsuch an exhibition of ghostly fury that even Sturla wished to\nwithdraw, and only Sera Magnus\u2019 firmness in insisting on the wedding\nprevented the engagement from being broken off. When the wedding was\nsolemnized, no sooner had the vows been spoken in the church than\nHerdis uttered a piercing cry, and those of the company who, being\nSunday-born children, had {207} the gift of seeing spirits beheld\nIvar\u2019s ghost approach her. Such was the horror and confusion that the\nceremony had to be cut short, and the newly wedded pair left the\nchurch without the customary prayer and blessing. The persecution was\nrepeated every time that Sturla attempted to consummate the marriage,\nuntil even ordinary folk who were not ghost-seers saw how the ghost\nwaylaid the unfortunate Herdis. Recourse was had to a renowned\npractitioner of supernatural arts, who by his incantations succeeded\nin making things somewhat quieter in the house; but after awhile\nmatters were as bad as ever, and his spells ceased to be effective.\nSometimes Ivar appeared alone, sometimes with Jon, and then both were\nusually in fierce contest. If the word of God were read they slunk out\nof the house; as soon as the reading was over they returned. Herdis\nwas again subjected to the dead man\u2019s assaults; and the magician could\nonly protect her by setting on her lap a woman holding upright a naked\nblade of steel. At length the ghost attacked the magician himself,\nand, blowing in his mouth, caused him a frightful ulcer in the neck;\nso that he was compelled to leave the place, declaring that he could\nnot cope with all the devils that followed Ivar\u2019s ghost. Herdis sought\nrefuge in a chapel, but in vain. She returned home, therefore; and\nshortly after, on a Sunday morning, a loud crash was heard; her bed\nhad broken down, and two of its timbers had fallen to the ground. That\nwas the culmination of the ghostly persecution. The unhappy woman\nbreathed her last. The magician said, when he heard of it, that the\nghost had strangled her. Then he did what, by all the rules of the\nghostlayer\u2019s art, he ought to have done before. Venturing back to\nSturla\u2019s house, he ordered Ivar\u2019s grave to be opened. Ivar\u2019s body and\nthat of Jon were found undecayed, but right {208} evil to look upon.\nThey were disinterred and burnt, and with that all manifestations came\nto an end.[208.1]\n\nThis narrative is not an ordinary saga, located indeed at a specified\nplace, but the events of which are told of an indefinite past, or are\nclustered in a manner known to all students of folklore round a\ncelebrated name. It is quite distinguishable in character from the\nIcelandic tale I have mentioned on a previous page. It was soberly\nreported in the year 1606 by persons of credit, if also of credulity,\naccording to our standard, while most of the actors and a number of\npersons who had more or less acquaintance with the facts were yet\nliving; it was related as something which had occurred not within\ntheir recollections at some distant date, but quite recently. The\nghostlayer whose services were called in survived until the year 1647,\nand was well known in the island. The account therefore discloses the\nkind of horrors that in that age, as in earlier ages, witness the\n_Heimskringla_ and various sagas, enlivened the long gloom of an\narctic winter. Foremost among those horrors may be reckoned the belief\nthat dead men still, in some circumstances at any rate, retained their\nsexual instincts, and attempted, not in vain, to gratify those\ninstincts upon living women.\n\nIndeed, communities boasting themselves of the culture and progress of\nthe twentieth century have not entirely discarded the terrors born of\nsome such belief. I do not refer to solitary cases of mania,[208.2]\nsuch as are probably to be found in all communities from time to time,\nbut to cases in which the belief has been adopted by society {209} at\nlarge and stamped with the collective approval, or at least\nacceptance. This may be said to be done when a court of law, in the\ncourse of a judicial investigation, admits evidence of haunting and\nsolemnly gives judgement based upon such evidence.\n\nOn the 16th February 1912, at Macon, Georgia, in the United States of\nAmerica, the second husband of a lady was actually granted a decree of\ndivorce on the ground that the ghost of her first husband haunted both\nhis wife and himself, and the difficulty was so great that it was\nutterly impossible for them to live together. It was not of course\ngiven in evidence that the ghost committed assaults, such as those we\nhave just been considering. The advance of civilization since the\nseventeenth century has softened the manners even of ghosts. But it\nwas stated that the wife had promised her former husband that she\nwould not marry again; she violated the promise; and it was solemnly\ntestified in court that the first husband\u2019s spirit appeared nightly\nwith groans and reproachful glances, and only ceased to do so when the\nlady left her new husband.[209.1] In our country a luckless husband\nwould find that the posthumous jealousy of his predecessor in the\n_m\u00e9nage_ is no ground for divorce. Since the days of the witch-trials\nour courts have remained unmoved by ghostly perturbations. They have\neven been known to refuse assistance to the tenant of a haunted house.\nBut Europe is effete.\n\nIn the lower culture it is otherwise. The Ewhe of Togoland believe in\nthe possibility of conjugal intercourse and other communion between a\ndead and a living spouse; but when it takes place it results in death\nto the survivor. Stringent measures are therefore adopted to prevent\nit. These measures are all the more necessary, since the {210}\nsurvivor must during the period of mourning--in which all the danger\nseems to be concentrated--lay aside all clothing and ornaments and go\nentirely naked. A widow for the first six weeks has nothing to fear so\nmuch as her deceased husband. She must remain all that time in the hut\nbeneath which her husband is buried, only leaving it for short\nintervals to bathe and for other necessary purposes. In token of\nmourning she goes with bowed head and eyes bent down, crossing her\narms over her breast so that the left hand rests on the right\nshoulder, in order that \u201cno mischief befall her from the dead man.\u201d\nShe also carries a club to drive him away in case he wish to approach\nher, otherwise there would immediately be an end of her.[210.1] She\nsleeps, moreover, on the club, because, if she did not, he would take\nit away from her unperceived. Ashes must be mingled with her food and\ndrink to prevent her husband from partaking of it--a sign probably of\nthe renewal of conjugal life--in which case she would die. She must\nnot answer any call, must eat neither beans, nor flesh nor fish, drink\nneither palm-wine nor rum; for any infringement of these prohibitions\nwould cost her life. Smoking is the only solace permitted to her.\nDuring the night a charcoal fire is kept up in the hut; and upon this\nfire she strews a powder, consisting of peppermint-leaves dried and\nrubbed down, and red pepper, so as to cause an evil-smelling smoke,\nwhich makes the dead man--it would make any living man--averse to\nentering.[210.2] After the death of his wife {211} a man, in some\ndistricts at all events, must remain for three days in his hut and\nabstain from intercourse with his other wives. At the expiration of\nthis period the women of the town assemble and wash him with medicine\nprepared by the witch-doctor. Without this precaution none of his\nother wives would dare to come near him, lest they too should\ndie.[211.1]\n\nBefore passing to another cultural area we may note two other\nsignificant customs in Togoland. Weddings there, as elsewhere, are\noccasions of festivity; and the firing of guns is doubtless an\nexpression of joy and triumph, for the Negro delights in noise. Even\nwhen, among the Akposso, in the administrative district of Atakpame, a\nman succeeds in seducing a married woman away from her husband into\nhis own house, he fires a gun, for he says: \u201cI have now a new wife!\u201d\nWith that the marriage is concluded, and he gives a great feast and\ndefies the former husband, who sometimes attempts to recover her by\nforce. But if the former husband be dead he fires no gun on marrying\nthe widow.[211.2] On the other hand, when a man\u2019s wife dies in her\nhouse the husband fears to enter it again, and it is usually\ndestroyed. Even where it is not destroyed, it is never again entered\nby the widower or any of his relations or dependants. Only a stranger\nnot belonging to his {212} family may dare to dwell there. If the\nwidower take a new wife, he builds her a new house.[212.1] To build a\nnew house for a new wife is usual; what is important to observe here\nis that the old house in which the deceased wife dwelt may be safely\ninhabited by a stranger, and only by a stranger.\n\nPrecautions like those of the Togo are taken by widows in Loango. All\nthe openings in a widow\u2019s hut are closed, and a spell is laid on every\nplace where the ghost might harbour. But that is not enough. What she\nfears is that her deceased husband, or some other disembodied spirit\ngreedy of her society, will visit her by night. That would result\neither in her death, or in her bringing some fearful monster into the\nworld. So the medicine-men prepare for her, according to the rules of\ntheir art, a piece of wood wherewith to fasten the door by way of bar\nor bolt; or they give her a fringed cord to stretch behind, and\nanother to stretch round, her bed, both of them of course enchanted.\nMore than this, the door of the hut is changed to another side,\nfurther to mystify the unwelcome _revenant_. If she be very nervous\nthey lead her in the darkness by a roundabout way to another hut,\ncarefully erasing her footsteps, unless they carry her or make her\nwear shoes that will render the traces unrecognizable. Besides that,\nthey furnish her with a magical staff to embrace when she goes to\nsleep. Sometimes at least it is carried in daylight also. One would\nthink such precautions would daunt the most evil-designing ghost. If\nany ghost, however, were so obdurate, or so conceited of his {213}\npower to break down these defences, as to persist, he would find they\nwere mere outworks, and that there were stronger and more effectual\nlines behind. The witch-doctors are not easily beaten--provided they\nhave a client who is willing and able to pay the enhanced cost of\ntheir services. Without going into all the details of what is in\neffect a war to the bitter end against the intrusive ghost, it may be\nsaid generally that they will give him no rest; they will beat the\ndwelling inside and outside with their conjuring implements; they will\nsweep the courtyard clear; they will leave no corner where the poor\nwretch can skulk; they will lay spells; they will hunt him through the\nvillage with beating, with sweeping, with fire, with the discharge of\nguns; they will rouse the whole population to their assistance; they\nwill lay bombs laden with magical virtue; they will stretch magical\ncords across every path leading to the village. If, in spite of all\nthese boisterous proceedings, the ghost be so hardy or so clever as to\ncontinue haunting the place, there will be nothing for it but to\nremove the village, or to catch the supernatural enemy and to shoot\nhim dead beyond resurrection. But this is obviously an extreme\nmeasure, to which it is seldom necessary to resort, and which can only\nbe undertaken by a specialist of the first rank and at a corresponding\ncost. The ghosts of deceased men are, in Loango, scarcely more to be\ndreaded than those of women dead in childbed, or of marriageable\ngirls. The former are especially dreaded by pregnant women and married\nmen, for their vengeful malice. The latter attack married men in their\nsleep, or seduce them under varied forms; and to yield means impotence\nor death.[213.1]\n\n{214}\n\nA little further to the south, beyond the Congo, it was the custom in\nMatiambo for widows to sacrifice themselves, together with the slaves\nof the deceased, who were sent to accompany their master into the\nother world. Widows who neglected to do so, and who escaped victorious\nfrom the ordeal for witchcraft, felt the soul of the departed spouse\noppressing their breasts; and the witch-doctor was required to purify\nthem before they ventured to contract a new marriage.[214.1] The\nprocess of purification is not described, but is probably like that\nreported by a missionary who has spent many years on the Congo. The\nwidow must go to a running stream, taking her husband\u2019s bed and one or\ntwo of the articles he has commonly used. These are all placed in the\nmiddle of the stream; and after she has well washed she sits on the\nbed. The witch-doctor dips her three times in the water and then\ndresses her; the bed and other articles are broken and thrown down the\nstream to float away. She is led out of the stream; a raw egg is\nbroken, and she swallows it; a toad is killed, and some of the blood\nrubbed on her lips; lastly, a fowl is killed and hung by the\nroadside--presumably a sacrifice to the deceased. She returns to her\ntown. On arriving there, {215} she sits on the ground, stretching out\nher legs before her, and her deceased husband\u2019s brother steps over\nthem. She is then free to marry again; but inasmuch as widows are not\nallowed to marry for a year or two after the husband\u2019s death, the rite\nis most likely not performed until the end of that period. It is only\nnecessary after the death of a first husband. Corresponding ceremonies\nare necessary for a man after his first wife\u2019s death. He may not leave\nhis house, except at night, for six days, and he must sleep only on a\nbasket made by plaiting together two palm-fronds. He then undergoes a\nsimilar purification to that just described, with some additional\nprecautions. On returning home his deceased wife\u2019s sister steps over\nhis legs. No woman would dare to marry him until these rites are\nperformed.[215.1] Although they do not seem to be confined to cases\nin which oppression by the ghost is endured, it is fairly certain that\ntheir object is to get rid, not merely of the death-pollution, but of\nthe ghost. We shall see directly what is the meaning of the ceremonial\nstepping over the survivor\u2019s legs.\n\nMeanwhile let us cross the continent to Delagoa Bay. The neighbourhood\nof Delagoa Bay, together with a large extent of country to the north\nin Portuguese and across the border in British territory, is occupied\nby various branches of a Bantu people frequently known as Shangaans,\nbut which it is convenient to call the Thonga, a name proposed by M.\nHenri Junod, a Swiss Protestant missionary. The tribe more immediately\naround the Bay is called the Baronga. The rites of purification\npractised by the Thonga on different occasions--among others, notably\nafter a death--are very remarkable, and indicate a considerable\npreoccupation with sexual matters. These rites have been carefully\ndescribed by M. Junod, but {216} they have not yet been sufficiently\nstudied to enable us to pronounce on the meaning of them all. I shall\ntherefore only refer to one or two.\n\nThe death-pollution affects not merely all who come into contact with\nthe corpse; it affects the entire kin, and indeed the whole of the\nvillage in which the deceased resided, whether related to him or not.\nBut it affects especially his wives, and among these his principal or\n\u201cgreat\u201d wife. Like the grave-diggers who have been handling the\ncorpse, she is required to take a sweat-bath. She is required,\nmoreover, to fumigate herself over a fire of dry grass from the roof\nof the hut, mingled with cock\u2019s dung (not hen\u2019s). A reed or a strip of\npalm-leaf with a few other leaves suspended to it is then put round\nher waist. She enters the hut, which has been already unroofed,\nwailing to her deceased husband, and crawls out again by the hole at\nthe back made to remove the corpse, as if she were herself a corpse.\nShe cannot remain there. A new hut is therefore built for her; and\nthere she must afterwards sleep, until the days of her purification\nare accomplished and she passes into the possession of her husband\u2019s\nkinsman to whom she is assigned. Even for the subordinate wives (who\nhave their own rites of purification to observe) it would be dangerous\nto sleep on the very ground where they have been accustomed to meet\nthe deceased: hence their huts must also be removed. It is difficult\nto understand what danger they are exposed to, unless it be assaults\nfrom the ghost. The huts they occupy do not seem to be polluted, at\nleast beyond the general pollution of the village, or they could not\ncontinue to occupy them. But the sites must be changed; and this can\nhardly be for any other purpose than to mystify the ghost.[216.1]\n\n{217}\n\nTurning now to two other widely separated cultural regions, we will\nfirst of all notice a significant article of dress worn by a widow in\nthe eastern islands of Torres Straits. The ordinary dress of a woman\ncomprised invariably a petticoat (sometimes more than one) of ample\nsize, extending from the waist to the knee or thereabouts, and made of\nsplit leaves or bark-fibre. But a widow, and she alone, \u201ctwisted up a\npetticoat of banana leaves, and, passing it between her legs, fixed it\nat her waistband. This was the first sign of widowhood,\u201d and had a\nspecial name. It was put on as soon as the preliminary ceremonies had\nfinished, and prior to the removal of the body for the purpose of\nmummification. The widow continued to wear it after she had discarded\nevery other sign of mourning, and until she married again.[217.1] In\nthe Mekeo district of British New Guinea, inhabited by a population\nconsisting, so far as has been ascertained, of a fusion of Melanesians\nand Papuans, the lot of a widower is not a happy one. So closely is he\nhaunted by the ghost of his deceased wife that he becomes a social\noutcast, shunned by everyone, and loses all civil rights, such is the\nhorror he inspires. Excluded thus {218} from communion with his\nfellow-men, he skulks alone in the long grass and the bushes; for he\nmust not be seen. He invariably carries, like the Ewhe widow, a\ntomahawk to defend himself against the dreaded spirit of his departed\nspouse, who, we are told, would do him an ill turn if she could. This\nmay, to be sure, as the missionary to whom we are indebted for the\nreport presents it, be no more than the natural malignancy of the\ndead, whose chief delight is to harm the living.[218.1] The\nmissionary, however, may not have penetrated the true inwardness of\nthe superstition. At all events, elsewhere there is no room for doubt.\n\nAmong the Indians of the Thompson River in British Columbia both\nwidows and widowers took elaborate precautions against the persecution\nof their deceased spouses. Directly death occurred the survivor went\nout and passed four times through a patch of rose-bushes, doubtless to\nensure that the spirit should not cling to him or her. Probably for\nthe same end ablutions in the creeks morning and evening for a year\nwere prescribed. Rigid abstention from certain kinds of food was part\nof the discipline; and, contrary to the practice of the Ewhe, tobacco\nwas also forbidden. During a whole year the survivor was required to\nsleep on a bed made of fir-branches, on which rose-bush sticks were\nalso spread at the head and foot, while in the middle were not only\nrose-bush sticks, but also branches of bearberry, mountain-ash,\njuniper, sage, and so forth. A widow could neither lie or sit where\nher children slept, nor let them lie down {219} on her bed. Finally, a\nwidow often wore a breech-cloth made of dry bunch-grass for several\ndays, that the ghost of her husband should not have conjugal\nintercourse with her.[219.1] The aborigines of Hispaniola also\nbelieved that the dead walked in the night and entered into converse\nwith living people, even in their beds; but if we may trust Peter\nMartyr, though in human shape they thus approached women, seeking\nsexual intercourse, \u201cwhen the matter cometh to actual deede,\u201d suddenly\nthey vanished away.[219.2] Our information concerning this\nunfortunate people, speedily destroyed by the Spaniards, is extremely\nmeagre; and we do not know whether any precautions were taken against\nthese ghostly visits. Among the Tarahumares of Mexico three great\nfeasts are given at intervals after a death. Until the last of them is\nheld the deceased hangs about the neighbourhood. Their object\ntherefore is to get rid of the ghost. To that end he is presented with\ngifts and adjured to depart with them, and not to come and disturb the\nsurvivors. At the second, and especially at the third feast,\nceremonial races are performed, in order to chase him away. Hikuli,\nthe sacred plant of the Tarahumares, plays a prominent part in these\nfestivities, for it \u201cis thought to be very powerful in running off the\ndead, chasing them to the end of the world, where they join the other\ndead.\u201d The third feast, the most elaborate of all, is deemed to be at\nlast effectual. Not until it is over \u201cwill a widower or a widow marry\nagain, being more afraid of the dead than are the other\nrelatives.\u201d[219.3] It is {220} not expressly stated what their fear\nis; but in the light of other examples it is perhaps not unreasonable\nto suspect that it arises from jealousy on the part of the deceased.\n\nAt all events I have shown that among the Negroes on the northern\nshore of the Gulf of Guinea, among the Bantu about the Lower Congo,\nand among the Indians of the Thompson River in British Columbia, the\nfear is seriously entertained that the deceased will seek a renewal of\nconjugal intercourse, and the utmost precautions are taken to prevent\nit. The precautions taken by the Baronga (also a Bantu tribe) in\nSouth-East Africa, and by some Melanesian peoples of the Torres\nStraits Islands and the mainland of New Guinea, strongly suggest the\nsame fear. The ancient inhabitants of Hispaniola attributed sexual\ndesires to the dead, though they do not seem to have believed in the\npossibility of their accomplishment; and the Tarahumare husband or\nwife is afraid to marry again until the deceased spouse has been\nfinally driven away from the society of the living to herd with the\nother dead at the end of the world. It is very striking that the\npopulations of areas so widely different in race and culture, as well\nas so far apart in space, as some of these, should display the\nidentical terror exhibited in the tales and superstitions cited from\nancient and modern Europe and from China. The story of the generation\nof Harpocrates, though related of a god, points to similar ideas in\nancient Egypt; and it has its analogues in India and the East Indian\nArchipelago.\n\nPractices exist, moreover, in other countries that seem to bear\nwitness to the same terror, though the terror itself is not recorded.\nIn such cases they may be indirect evidence of its existence. The\npractices I refer to are such as that among the Kikuyu and Anyanja in\nEast-Central {221} Africa. The former are a tribe Bantu in speech and\nmainly Bantu in blood and custom, though mingled with other elements.\nOn the third day after the burial of a husband the elders assemble at\nthe village to kill a ram. This ceremony has the effect of cleansing\nthe village at large \u201cfrom the stain of death\u201d; but something more is\nneeded by the widow. Accordingly \u201cthe elders bring with them one of\ntheir number who is very poor, and of the same clan as the deceased,\nand he has to sleep in the hut of the senior widow of the deceased,\u201d\nand to have sexual relations with her. His poverty, and the rule that\n\u201che generally lives on in the village and is looked upon as a\nstepfather to the children,\u201d point to the service he thus performs\nbeing considered attended with some danger, and therefore not to be\nundertaken except in hope of an adequate reward.[221.1] The Anyanja,\nlikewise a Bantu tribe, settled at the southern end of Lake Nyasa,\nhold a beer-drinking accompanied by dance and song a month after the\nburial, which takes place two or three days after the death. Up to\nthat time conjugal relations are forbidden throughout the village of\nthe deceased. The widow or widower and then each relative in turn is\nshaved, and cohabitation by all except the widow is resumed. She must\nwait until the second beer-drinking, six months or a year later. At\nthis second ceremony dancing takes place on the first night, and beer\nis drunk the next day. Before sunset on the first day the widow is\nagain shaven, and the mother of the deceased informs her that she is\nnow free to marry again. That night \u201cshe has to sleep with a man paid\nby her {222} relations.\u201d He is not her permanent husband; his services\nare merely required as a preliminary to her marriage. According to the\naccount from which I am quoting it would appear that she may marry\nafter mourning two or three months, but not without the same previous\nritual coition, else \u201cher second husband would die, should she have\ncommitted adultery.\u201d A widower, on the other hand, \u201cmourns five or six\nmonths and is then given medicine, after which he may marry again, and\nwithout which, should he marry, his new wife would die.\u201d[222.1] There\nare some difficulties here. It seems clear that until the mourning is\nover the widows cannot marry again, and the length of mourning is\ndecided by the relatives of the deceased; it is closed with the\nbeer-drinking. When it is over, the widows select their husbands from\namong the kindred of the deceased; he who marries the chief wife is\nthe heir. A widow cannot marry outside this limited circle, unless\nshe, or her new husband, be prepared to repay her bride-price, and\noften more. Customs doubtless differ, but this is the usual course. It\nis curious too that the second husband of a widow should die, if he\nmarried her without the previous coition by another man, only if she\nhad committed adultery, whereas the woman marrying a widower will die\nin any case if he have not had medicine. It is probable that there has\nbeen some misunderstanding of the informants and that the second\nhusband runs the risk of death in any case by wedding a widow who has\nnot undergone the regular preliminary.[222.2] The probability is\nconfirmed by the practice of the Yaos, a neighbouring tribe, among\nwhom the second husband {223} pays a man to pass a night with the\nwidow before he takes her.[223.1] A further example may be given from\na wholly different cultural area. Among the Kamtchadals no one would\nbe willing to marry a widow \u201cunless her sins have been previously\ntaken away by the highest degree of familiarity granted to anyone who\nwishes to render her this service.\u201d The writer to whom we are indebted\nfor the information reported in the eighteenth century that the\nnatives imagined that this expiation might cause the expiator to die\nlike the defunct husband, so that the poor women would remain widows\nbut for the assistance of the Russian soldiers, who were not afraid of\nexposing themselves to a danger so equivocal.[223.2]\n\nThe Kikuyu, Anyanja and Kamtchadal customs are evidently the same. The\npenalty for non-observance, though not expressed in our account of the\nKikuyu custom, is, it will hardly be questioned, the same as in the\nother two; it is the death of the second husband. What I venture to\nsuggest, in view of the other Bantu customs already laid before the\nreader, is that the risk actually run by marrying or cohabiting with\nthe widow is that of death from the posthumous jealousy of the\ndeceased. The fact that the deceased is still supposed to desire a\ncontinuance of conjugal relations renders it natural to think that,\neven where the extreme terrors that torture the widow in some places\nare not shown, the belief may linger in his jealousy of other men, who\ndo what he perhaps is no longer conceived capable of. The suggestion\nderives support from the rites performed about the Lower Congo. There,\nit will be remembered, the terror of a dead husband is excessive. The\nelaborate {224} purification of the widow, every incident of which\npoints to the desire to rid her of his attentions, culminates in his\nbrother stepping over her outstretched legs.\n\nNow the act of stepping over another is everywhere regarded as one of\ngreat rudeness, if not insult. More than this, it is regarded as\nlikely to communicate some mysterious injury or to take away some\nluck, good quality or advantage from the person who is thus treated.\nHence it is often hotly resented. Without going beyond the Congo\nregion, it is enough to note that in Loango to step over a child is to\ninterfere with his development--in other words, to stop his growth; to\nstep over an adult is to transfer to him every evil from which one may\nbe suffering. It is not good even to reach, or to throw anything,\nacross him; and if such a thing be done, the action must be repeated\nin the contrary direction, in order, it would seem, to reverse the\nspell.[224.1] But in the ceremony of purification an act in ordinary\ncircumstances so injurious is ritually performed for some beneficial\neffect. This may be simply to take away some evil; it may be to\ndispossess finally and for ever the tenacious ghost, in case all the\nprevious efforts have proved unavailing. But the difference of the\nperformer\u2019s sex means surely more than this. When a widow is purified,\nher husband\u2019s brother performs the final rite; when it is a widower,\nhis wife\u2019s sister. Now it will be observed these persons belong to the\nprecise class from which the next spouse is to be taken. When the\nhusband dies the widow becomes the wife of one of his brothers; when\nthe wife dies the husband demands another wife from her\nfamily.[224.2] The act of stepping over the widow or widower,\ntherefore, seems to symbolize the taking of possession by one of the\npersons entitled to do so.\n\n{225}\n\nLet us turn to the Baganda, a Bantu people on the highest pitch of\ncivilization to which any branch of the race had attained prior to the\ncoming of the white man. There we find that jumping over a woman, or\nstepping over her legs, is regarded as \u201cequivalent to, or instead of,\nhaving sexual connection with her.\u201d \u201cFor a woman to sit with her legs\nstraight in front of her, or apart, was looked upon as unbecoming; and\nfor any man to step over her legs was equivalent to having intercourse\nwith her. The mere fact of stepping over a wife, or over some of her\nclothing, was a method frequently followed to end a taboo which\nnecessitated intercourse\u201d (_scil._, to end it).[225.1] The act is\nperformed on a variety of ceremonial occasions when coition would be\ninconvenient. To mention only one, the king had an officer of the\ncourt, a relative of his own, called the Kauzumu, whose duty it was to\nfulfil certain rites and taboos for him, and thus to save him from\ninconvenience. Among others, it was said that in former times it was\nhis duty to take the women who were to become the king\u2019s wives for one\nnight to his bed. To the latest period of national independence, when\none of the king\u2019s wives died and her clan sent another in her place,\nthe Kauzumu jumped over her before presenting her to the king.[225.2]\nBy this act the taboo was removed, the danger, whatever it was, was\ndiverted from the king to the Kauzumu. We may safely infer that the\nact of stepping over the legs of the surviving spouse in the Congo\nregion is a symbolic coition. It is performed by one who belongs to\nthe class of prospective spouses, though probably after the\nperformance {226} of such a ceremony not the one who would actually\nwed the survivor; for its object, if I am right, is to take on the\nshoulders of the performer the consequences which would otherwise\nlight on the new consort.[226.1]\n\nThough not by any means so conclusively as the practices just\ndiscussed, the delay between the ending of a first marriage by the\ndeath of one of the parties and the second marriage of the other party\nseems to indicate the same dread of the deceased. The mourning\nceremonies must usually all be accomplished before the survivor, at\nall events if a woman, can be married again. With the completion of\nthe mourning ceremonies it is a common belief, of which we have had\nmore than one instance, that the deceased is finally despatched to the\nsociety of the dead; in any case, he is at rest, and is very often\nspeedily forgotten. Among the Namib-Bushmen of South-West Africa, a\nmongrel people, the result of the intermingling of probably many\nbroken tribes with an original stock of Hottentots, marriage is\nmonogamous. That does not mean that death only can separate the\nmarried pair. If separation between two living spouses take place,\neither can marry again forthwith. But if the separation be caused by\ndeath, something like half a year (that is to say, either a rainy or a\ndry season) must elapse before re-marriage; for, we are told, the\nbelief prevails that, for example, the woman whom a widower marries\nwithout waiting will soon herself die. And when the widower does\nventure on a new marriage, it must be to {227} a sister of his\ndeceased wife if there be one at liberty.[227.1] So in the Togo\ndistrict of Atakpame, a woman who is left by her husband, even if only\nfor a time, may be taken by another man; and this, it seems, under\nGerman rule renders it difficult to get men to work at the making of\nroads, for his absence will cost the labourer his wife. But when a man\ndies his widow must wait for three farm-years (a farm-year equals ten\nmonths) before she marries again. The delay seems not to be popular.\nIn the western portion of the district, among the Akposso, the time\nhas been shortened to two years, while in the eastern portion, where\nthe people are less purely Akposso, the widow marries after eleven\nmonths. The modern Akposso widow holds it silly to wait longer: she\nhas not murdered her first husband, and therefore she ought, she\nthinks, to be able to marry sooner. But she must wait these eleven\nmonths, else she would die. If, however, her husband has been hanged\nfor murder or some other reason, she may marry at the end of two or\nthree months. The ground alleged for this shortening of the period of\ndelay is economic. There seems to be no rule requiring the widow to be\ntaken by a surviving member of the husband\u2019s family, though the\nchildren resulting from a second marriage belong to it. If she cannot\nfind another husband, therefore, she must go back to her own family\nand she may become a burden upon it. On marrying she must work in her\nhusband\u2019s fields, for the benefit of himself and his family. But she\nis entitled to a small field for herself, out of which she may make\nher own profit; and there is now plenty of money in the country, and a\ngeneral desire to earn as {228} much of it and as soon as\npossible.[228.1] All this may be very true; but seeing that the widow\nwho marries prematurely must die, she will not be likely to run so\nserious a risk for the chance of making a little money. If we are\nright in supposing that the death-penalty is one exacted by the\ndeceased, the conjecture will not be deemed unreasonable that hanging\nis believed to inflict such injuries on the ghost that its\ninterference is not to be dreaded. The mode of death and the\nmutilations (if any) inflicted on the corpse are widely held to affect\nthe departed in the future life.\n\nJealousy is a passion by no means confined to the male sex. In the\nlower culture it is believed to continue to inspire women as well as\nmen, even after death. If not so prominent a superstition as the\nbelief in masculine jealousy, this is perhaps to be accounted for\npartly by the generally dominant position in the household and in\nsociety of the man, partly to the widespread habit of polygamy, and\npartly to the physiological rule that the decay of sexual impulse\nmakes its appearance earlier in women than in men. We have already\nfound examples of customs pointing to posthumous feminine jealousy\namong various races in both hemispheres. One or two other examples may\nbe given.\n\nAmong the Bantu tribes of North-Eastern Rhodesia, when a married woman\ndies her husband sends to her father for another wife in her stead. A\nsister or some such relative of the deceased is the proper person to\ntake her place. If there be none unmarried and therefore available, a\nmarried sister of the deceased must spend one or two nights with the\nwidower \u201cto take the death from off his body.\u201d[228.2] This is so much\nin harmony with {229} the Bantu practices previously considered, that\nwe can only suppose the deceased would acquiesce in her sister\u2019s\nsuccession to her rights, but would feel jealous and angry at the\nintrusion of another woman. The women of these tribes are\nhigh-spirited and jealous, those of the Awemba being proverbially\nfierce. Among most of the tribes it is imperative for the bridegroom\nto move into the bride\u2019s parents\u2019 village, where he will always be\nunder the eye of his mother-in-law, and where, no doubt, in case of\nthe wife\u2019s death, a sister or other relation would be conveniently\nhandy to step into her shoes. Indeed, among the Awemba the wife often\nrelinquishes her position voluntarily to another member of the family.\nWhen she \u201chas presented her husband with two or three children she\nconsiders that she has fulfilled her marriage obligations towards him.\nWith his consent, which as a rule is not difficult to obtain, she\nhands over her niece as a substitute. The niece inherits her aunt\u2019s\nposition, and cares for her children, while the aunt retires to the\npeace of a single life, or very often finds a new partner.\u201d[229.1]\nThus it may be presumed that a dead wife, if she returned and found a\nrelative of her own in her husband\u2019s arms, would submit to a\nrelationship between them such as she herself might in a year or two\nhave voluntarily initiated, satisfied that her children, if any, would\nbe looked after. How long that relationship would last (and divorce is\nquite an everyday occurrence) would be no concern of hers, and she\nwould not trouble herself further in the matter. The next woman whom\nher husband married would therefore be rendered safe: the \u201cdeath\u201d\nwould have been taken off his body.\n\nIn India the widows of the higher castes are not allowed to marry\nagain. Among the aboriginal tribes {230} widows who do so often marry\n\u201cunder cover of darkness, and with the aid of certain ceremonies\ncommonly relied upon as a protection against spirits.\u201d If in spite of\nthese precautions the woman should be troubled by her departed\nhusband, he is placated, as among the Kol\u012bs of Ahmadnagar, by a tiny\nimage of himself worn in a copper case round her neck, or set among\nthe household gods, and by the expenditure of money in\ncharity.[230.1] But the spirit of a dead wife is more troublesome.\nHer character for jealousy and malice is perhaps partly due to\nconfusion with a woman dead in childbirth or pregnancy, or who has\nnever had a child. A ghost of this kind is greatly dreaded.[230.2]\nThe ghosts of ordinary married women are, however, not to be despised.\nThey perform all sorts of unpleasant tricks on the survivors, not the\nleast of which are the attacks they make on their successors in their\nhusbands\u2019 affections. Happily these attacks can be warded off by a\njudicious homage to the departed or a pretended identification of the\ndeceased with her successor. Thus among the Gaddis, a Hindu sect in\nthe Panjab, when the first wife dies the second wears a silver plate\ncalled _saukan mora_, or crown of the rival wife. This plate\nrepresents the deceased, and is propitiated to avert her\nhostility.[230.3] Indeed, the practice is not confined to one sect:\nit is common to several of the castes. The widower hangs a miniature\nportrait of his former wife, or even her name engraved on a silver or\ngold plate, about the new bride\u2019s neck. The object, it has been\nsuggested, is to humour the spirit of the first wife by identifying\nher with the second, thus proving the husband\u2019s fidelity. In the {231}\nCentral Panjab, on the other hand, the bride is dressed as a milkmaid,\nor a flower-seller, and given a servile nickname, apparently to\nconvince the spirit of the deceased that the girl being married is not\na real wife, but a slave-girl. When the death of the second wife shows\nthat the device has been unsuccessful, a mock-marriage of the\nbridegroom to a tree or a sheep, adorned like a bride, is resorted to\nbefore his marriage with a woman. \u201cIt is interesting to watch the\nbedecked sheep sitting on the _kh\u00e1r\u00e1s_ (reversed baskets) with a\nbridegroom and being led by him round the sacrificial fire, while the\nreal bride sits by.\u201d Here it is doubtless intended to fix the\nattention of the deceased upon the tree or the sheep, and so leave the\nreal wife free from her jealousy. After the death of the third wife\nthe evil influence of the first is deemed to be exhausted.[231.1] The\nLets of Bengal, who are also Hindus in religion, permit their widows\nto marry again, though not by the rite for a virgin-bride. The second\nhusband is usually a widower; and he places the iron bangle of his\nformer wife on his new wife\u2019s arm.[231.2] So in Baroda a widower who\nmarries again has to present to his new wife a neck-ornament with\nmarks to represent the feet of his first wife. She will wear this to\nprevent the ghost of the latter from troubling her.[231.3]\n\nIt need hardly be said that the rites and tales here discussed involve\nsomething more than the belief in the survival of death by a bare\nhuman personality. They could not have come into existence without the\nbelief that what remained after the catastrophe was still in some\ndegree a sentient and powerful being. It is difficult for mankind to\nacquiesce in the reality of death. The imagination refuses to harbour\nthe thought of the cessation of conscious existence. {232} The dead,\nalthough they appear to respond no longer to the physical and social\nstimuli hitherto effective, must still be. Vanished from our ordinary\nken, they must be living somewhere, somehow; they cannot have been\nannihilated. If they still live, they must live under conditions\nanalogous to those we know, and with affections, desires, appetites,\naversions, similar to those they had in this life, though the objects\nmay conceivably be changed. Hence every sort of activity known to man\nis ascribed to them. In dreams, in trances, and in the phenomena of\npossession they are observed to carry on these activities. But because\nthey are observed to carry them on only under such mysterious\nconditions they repel the survivors and fill them with an undefinable\nhorror and awe. Among the affections and appetites of mankind those\nconnected with the sexual life are almost the strongest. It is natural\ntherefore to imagine that the dead will still endeavour, by social and\neven by fleshly intercourse with the survivors, to gratify them. For\nif the belief in their activity in other directions be conceded, this\ncannot be denied; and perhaps the very horror that would be inspired\nby the ultimate stages of such a possibility serves to attract the\nthoughts, and therefore the belief, of peoples on the lower planes of\ncivilization.\n\nIll weeds grow rank in such a soil. Not only are sexual appetites and\naffections almost the strongest; but, as is now well recognized, in\nthe complex attitude of mankind to the invisible world they have no\ninconsiderable share. Marriage is a status hemmed about by many taboos\nand easily lending itself to mystical presentation. It is natural that\nthe demise of one of the parties should cause a shock to the survivor\ncorresponding to the change of condition involved, and should\npowerfully affect the sexual impulses. Even {233} apart from marriage\nthey are an object on which the thought of mankind, whether savage or\ncivilized, broods with a persistent endeavour to solve the mystery\nsurrounding them. Hints are seen in them for the solution of many a\nproblem other than that of the propagation of the species. The ideas\nsuggested by their contemplation are utilized alike for practical and\neconomical purposes (for example, in agricultural magic), and for\nspeculation on the transcendent themes of life and death and the\nconstitution of the universe. The tales and superstitions I have\nbrought together exhibit these impulses emphasizing the terror of the\ndead. Many of the phenomena of dreams, and the phenomena of hysteria\nand various forms of delusion are due to the sexual impulses. The\nsexual impulses in turn are in many, if not all, of the cases referred\nto above greatly aided by the conditions imposed on the patient. No\nless than luxury and over-feeding, fasting and abstinence from the\nordinary and reasonable gratification of animal appetites, and from\nsocial intercourse, are the parents of nightmare and delusion. Both\nextremes lead through physical disturbances to disorders of the\nimagination and the reason. Hermits and celibates have probably\nsuffered even more than rakes and gluttons and drunkards. The annals\nof monasticism with tiresome and pitiful iteration record the\ndisastrous effects of asceticism upon body and mind. Among savage and\nbarbarous peoples these effects are as a rule less noxious, because\nthe conditions inducing and accelerating them are less continuous. But\nit is precisely at the time when sexual relations are put out of\nnormal gear, and the sexual impulses are left without their normal\ngratification, that exclusion from society and abstinence, sometimes\nfrom sleep, always {234} from food usual in quality and amount, are\nimposed. The imagination, already stimulated by the shock of the death\n(rarely attributed to natural causes), the possibility of an\naccusation of witchcraft hanging over the widow\u2019s head, the certainty\nin many cases (as among the tribes of British Columbia) of a long\nperiod of hardship and even torture, all combine with the exclusion\nand enforced abstinence to produce a state of unnatural excitement,\namounting at times to terror and delusion--in any case liable\npowerfully to affect the dreams, and to produce hysteria.\n\nIt must be remembered that the entire community shares to the full the\nunderlying beliefs, and participates in varying degrees in the fears\nof the bereaved spouse. We are familiar even in Europe with the effect\nupon a crowd--nay, upon an entire nation--of emotions felt in common.\nThey are intensified. The atmosphere becomes electrical, and a spark\nsuffices to produce a conflagration. When the object of the emotion is\nstrange, imperfectly apprehended, mysterious, the effect is\nheightened; it becomes a species of insanity. Things are imagined\nwhich do not exist; eyewitnesses attest what a dispassionate observer\nknows to be impossibilities. The most appalling of the tales and the\nmost vivid of the rites we have been considering are thus easily\naccounted for. The marvel is that they are not more widely distributed\nover the world than our present information enables us to affirm.\n\n\n\n\n THE PHILOSOPHY OF MOURNING\n CLOTHES\n\n{235}\n\nIt is a commonplace among anthropologists that certain events in a\ncommunity cause a state of taboo, which affects the members of the\ncommunity in a greater or less degree, according to their nearness of\nplace or blood to the person principally concerned, or according to\nthe magnitude of the event. Among these events a death is not the\nleast important. In the lower culture the whole village or settlement\nis often attainted by the occurrence of a death. But it is more\nparticularly the near relatives, and those who have been brought into\ncontact with the corpse, who are affected by the death-taboo (or, as\nit is often called, the death-pollution), most of all the widow or\nwidower. We call the period of the death-taboo--mourning. The duration\nof the taboo, as well as its intensity, varies among different\npeoples, and not only according to the relationship of the mourners to\nthe deceased, but also to his rank, from a few days to many months,\nand even to years. It is very rare that there is no mourning on a\ndeath; but if our reports may be trusted, there are a few cases,\nwhich, however, need not detain us.\n\nMourning garb is an essential part of the observances. Its object has\nbeen much debated by anthropologists. There seems little doubt that\nits first object is to distinguish those who are under the taboo from\nother persons: it is the sign of the plague. Professor Frazer {236}\nmany years ago laid it down \u201cthat mourning costume is usually the\nreverse of that in ordinary life.\u201d He cited (among others) the\npractice at Rome for the sons of the deceased to walk at the funeral\nwith their heads covered, the daughters with their heads uncovered,\nand that in Greece for men and women during the period of mourning to\ninvert their usual habits of wearing the hair, the ordinary practice\nof men being to cut it short and that of women to wear it\nlong.[236.1] The accuracy of the generalization might be illustrated\nfrom examples all over the world. The Arapaho, who wear their hair\nlong and braided, when in mourning unbraid it and wear it unbound.\nSometimes they cut it. They wear old clothing, and do not paint\nthemselves as they are accustomed to do.[236.2] Among the Bangala of\nthe Upper Congo men sometimes wear women\u2019s dresses instead of their\nown, and shave half the hair of the head, or shave it in patches, and\nthey rub clay on their bodies. Widows dress in only a few leaves or go\nstark naked, but with dirt or clay rubbed on the body. For three\nmonths after the funeral and a period of retirement in the bush they\nwear long, untidy-looking grass cloths.[236.3] When following a\ncorpse to the grave Ainu mourners wear their coats inside out and\nupside down. An Ainu\u2019s hair is never cut, except on the death of\nhusband or wife; and then cutting is obligatory.[236.4] Among the\nIban of Sarawak a widow\u2019s mourning lasts until the final ceremonies,\nsometimes two years after the death. During that time she may not wear\nany ornament, her dress must be plain and old; and she is not allowed\nto pull out her eyelashes and eyebrows, nor to use soap for {237}\nwashing. Whatever acquaintance she may have in ordinary life with\nsoap, the prohibition to pull out her eyelashes and eyebrows is a\nprohibition of the last and most seductive touches of her toilet: no\nIban woman would think of wearing eyelashes and eyebrows if she were\nnot a widow in mourning.[237.1] By reversing the usual costume the\nmourner is distinguished from others, notice is given to the world of\nthe taboo that binds him.\n\nFor this reason many of the aborigines of British Guiana lay their\ntrinkets aside and go entirely naked; and among the Jiraras or Ayricas\nthe wife, brothers and sisters of the deceased paint themselves all\nover with the juice of a fruit that renders them as black as Negroes,\nwhile relatives less near paint only their feet, legs, arms and part\nof the face: they are not so deeply compromised.[237.2] So on the\nIvory Coast the Ngoulango or Pakhalla mourners put off their\nornaments, put on the head a worn-out loin-cloth and wear brown\nclothing, marking different parts of the body with red earth. If\nanything more were necessary to exhibit their state of taboo, it would\nbe the practice of widows when they went out of doors to carry a piece\nof \u201cfetish\u201d wood, endowed with the power of causing death to anyone\nwho approached them and touched it.[237.3] In Australia the\nrelatives, especially the women, cover their heads with clay, or in\nsome parts of West Australia with red mud.[237.4] The Warramunga\nwomen in the Northern Territory cover themselves from head to foot\nwith pipeclay.[237.5] Among the Uriyas of India, whose women are\nparticularly fond of gay colours, a widow wears a plain white\nborderless _sari_, or cloth, as {238} the sign of her\nbereavement.[238.1] The Man Cao Lan of Tonkin wear white garments not\nhemmed; and those of their women who have adopted the Annamite\ntrousers recur to the native petticoat.[238.2]\n\nThe colours of the mourning garb vary widely. Dr Frazer has collected\na considerable list, to which it is needless to add. Let it suffice to\nsay that though emblematic colours are often used, the main principle,\nespecially in the lower culture, is that just discussed of reversing,\nor wearing something quite distinctive from, the ordinary costume.\n\nThe condition of taboo occasioned by a death, it should be noted, is\nby no means limited to the death of a human being. Among the ancient\nEgyptians the Mendesians observed a great mourning on the death of a\ngoat; and more generally when a cat died by a natural death everyone\nin the house shaved his eyebrows, while on the death of a dog the\nwhole head and body were shaved. Both these and other animals were\nalso accorded honours of burial in sacred tombs.[238.3] The native\ntribes of Manipur lay a _genna_, or taboo, upon the inmates of a house\nin which an animal dies or has young, especially a cow; and when a cat\ndies it is wrapped up in a cloth and buried amid lamentations in a\ngrave dug for it by the old women.[238.4] To the Ibo-speaking peoples\nof Nigeria the leopard is a quasi-sacred animal. At Aguku the hunter\nwho has killed it puts eagle-feathers in his hair and does no work for\ntwenty-eight days: that is to say, he is under a taboo for a whole\nmoon. At Ugwoba he may not go to {239} the A\u01f0ana (the shrine of the\nearth) for a year; he must sit down without working for twenty-eight\ndays, and may eat only such food as has been put in a pot and hung\nover the fire; he sleeps in a good house, and people watch lest other\nleopards come and kill him. On the twenty-eighth day, on taking the\nskin to market, sacrifices are offered to a certain tree, which is\nregarded as _ekwensu_, defined as the spirit of a man who has been\nkilled with a rope or a knife, or of a woman who has died in\npregnancy.[239.1] Such a death would be an evil death, and the ghost\nwould be naturally inclined to make others suffer in the same way; but\nthe sacrifices would perhaps conciliate him and induce him to turn his\nattention to an effectual protection of the sacrificer against the\nleopards\u2019 vengeance.\n\nAmong the Herero of German South-West Africa to shed the blood of a\nlion is the same as to shed that of a human being; and he who kills a\nlion can only wash away the sin by the shedding of his own blood. This\nis done by scoring his breast and arm with a flint and dropping some\nof the blood upon the earth.[239.2] The Hidatsa of the North American\nprairies, after hunting eagles, build a sweat-lodge and purify\nthemselves, singing a mystery-song or incantation.[239.3] The\npractice, in fact, is widespread. In some instances it may be\nexplained by totemism or analogous beliefs. In any case there can be\nno doubt it is dictated by similar motives to those that lead to the\ntaboo and mourning after the death of a human being.\n\nThe suggestion has been made that the change of {240} garb is intended\nas a disguise to deceive the spirit of the deceased, and so to shelter\nthe mourner from its attacks. On the one hand, many tribes\nunquestionably adopt the same costume after killing an enemy as on the\ndeath of a friend. Among the Abarambos of Welle in the French Soudan,\nwhen a native kills another he blackens his face, girds himself with a\ngrass cord and eats only raw bananas, to hinder the ghost from coming\nto kill him in his turn. The same rites are observed on the death of a\nhusband or wife, with the addition that the survivor disappears for a\ntime into the woods.[240.1]\n\nBut this is by no means the universal rule. Among the Nandi of East\nAfrica the killing of an enemy entails quite a different garb from the\ndeath of a friend. \u201cWhen a married man dies, his widows and unmarried\ndaughters lay aside all their ornaments, and the eldest son wears his\ngarment inside out\u201d; and more or less shaving, according to their\nnearness in blood, is done by all the relatives. \u201cOn the death of a\nmarried woman her youngest daughter wears her garment inside out,\nwhilst her other relations put rope on their ornaments [to hide them,\na common practice where they cannot easily be taken off] and shave\ntheir heads. In the case of unmarried people the female relations\ncover their ornaments with rope, and the male relations shave their\nheads.\u201d The killing of a Nandi, so far as appears, does not entail a\nchange of costume, at least if the homicide belong to a different clan\nfrom his victim. It is merely the subject of vengeance, unless bought\noff by blood-money. Curiously enough, it does not even seem to render\nthe guilty man \u201cunclean,\u201d as the killing of a member of his own {241}\nclan does. The latter indeed renders him \u201cunclean for the rest of his\nlife, unless he can succeed in killing two other Nandi of a different\nclan, and can pay the fine himself.\u201d In the meantime, for aught that\nappears in Mr Hollis\u2019 careful account of the Nandi, no change of\ncostume is necessary beyond what other members of the clan must\nundergo on the death of a relation. The killing of a person belonging\nto another tribe--a person who is not a Nandi,--however, entails a\nstringent condition of taboo, yet it is a subject, not of blame like\nthe killing of a Nandi, but of praise. The slayer \u201cpaints one side of\nhis body, spear and sword red, and the other side white. For four days\nafter the murder he is considered unclean, and may not go home. He has\nto build a small shelter by a river and live there; he must not\nassociate with his wife or sweetheart, and he may only eat porridge,\nbeef, and goat\u2019s flesh. At the end of the fourth day he must purify\nhimself by drinking a strong purge made from the bark of the\nsegetet-tree, and by drinking goat\u2019s milk mixed with bullock\u2019s\nblood.\u201d[241.1]\n\nOther tribes in the east of Africa paint the man-killer. Masai\nwarriors (from whom possibly the Nandi have taken over the custom),\nafter returning victorious, paint the body in the manner just\ndescribed.[241.2] Among the Bor\u00e2na Galla, the conquerors who have\nslain an enemy, on returning, are washed by the women with a mixture\nof fat and milk, and their faces are painted red and white. After\ndirges over those who have fallen, the praises of the surviving heroes\nare sung, and the young warriors\u2019 trophies are publicly buried outside\nthe village. These trophies are portions of the bodies {242} of the\nslaughtered foes which cannot be conveniently preserved.[242.1] The\nwashing is obviously a ceremonial purification. Apart from this the\nentire proceeding is one of triumph, and there is no indication of an\nattempt at concealment. In the Congo basin the Yaka warrior who kills\na man in battle incurs the danger of reprisals on the part of the\nghost. He can, however, escape by wearing the red tail-feathers of the\nparrot in his hair and painting his forehead red. Upon this it is to\nbe observed that, as elsewhere, red is a favourite colour among the\nBayaka. It is used for body-painting of both living and dead. The\ncorpse is painted before burial; the dandy paints himself to increase\nhis beauty; the widow is painted in mourning. The painting of the\nforehead can therefore hardly be a disguise. The tail-feathers of the\nparrot are probably an amulet.[242.2]\n\nThe Lillooet or the Ntlakapamux warrior of British Columbia who has\nslain a foe paints not merely his forehead but his entire face black.\nIf he did not do so, it was believed that he would become blind; and\nin the case of the latter tribe we are told that \u201cthe spirit of {243}\nthe victim would cause him to become blind.\u201d Blindness for some reason\nis dreaded by these tribes after other deaths. Among the Lillooet a\nwidower cuts his hair very short above his eyes and ears; \u201cfor if his\nhair touched the eyes he would become blind.\u201d The cutting of the hair\nis, of course, a very common rite either in or at the conclusion of\nmourning. Among the Ntlakapamux, widows and widowers \u201crubbed four\ntimes across their eyes a small smooth stone taken from beneath\nrunning water, and then threw it away, praying that they might not\nbecome blind.\u201d[243.1] Since widows and widowers are specially subject\nto the persecution of the deceased spouse, we may perhaps infer that\nthe blindness in such cases would be attributable to the departed. A\nparity of reasoning would lead to the same conclusion in regard to the\nwarrior\u2019s victim. But how the painting of the face black would prevent\nsuch a catastrophe we are in the dark. For aught we know, it may have\nbeen (for instance) an expression of contrition designed to mollify\nthe injured ghost. Mortuary ceremonies are almost everywhere so\ncomplicated that it is difficult to disentangle their motives. In the\nrelated tribe of the Skqomic all who follow the corpse in the burial\nprocession must paint the breasts of their garments with red paint,\nelse \u201ca scarcity of fish would be the result at the next salmon run\u201d;\nand the widow in addition is painted with red streaks on the crown of\nher head.[243.2] The fact is that painting oneself is a preparation\nfor the footlights by no means confined to over-civilized peoples. It\nis so usual in the most varied stages of culture, from the lowest\nupwards, that we cannot safely pronounce it an attempt at disguise.\n\n{244}\n\nA somewhat stronger case might perhaps be made for the garb of a\ncompany of Dyak head-hunters, if we could be sure that the ceremonies\nas described a few years ago by an eyewitness at the settlement of\nTandjoeng-Karang, on the river Kapoeas, were intact. But when a rite\nis in decay, as head-hunting is, all sorts of variations are possible.\nThe British and Dutch governments, now supreme in Borneo, with little\nregard for the most sacred feelings of their heathen subjects,\npositively forbid a custom intended to procure blessings for the\ncommunity by the conversion of ancient foes into guardian spirits.\nHence it is often necessary, instead of taking fresh heads, to put up\nwith old ones and to make believe that they are new. For this purpose\nan expedition is sent forth on a mock-raid, carrying skulls of former\nvictims with them, and bringing them back as if they were just\nacquired. When the expedition returns, it is received as if it were a\nsuccessful war-party, and the ceremonies on the arrival of genuine\nhead-hunters are performed. At Tandjoeng-Karang, on the occasion in\nquestion, these included dances in which both men and women took part.\nThe men (who had been fasting, and were still under taboo) were clad\nin war-apparel. Skins of animals hung from their shoulders; feathers\nadorned their caps; and all wore on their wrists, arms and legs\nornaments of withered palm-leaves, such as are distinctive of\nsuccessful raiders. In addition, some had also shaved the front of the\nhead and decked it with similar wreaths, so that the leaves hung down\nlike fringes over the face. If this were intended as a disguise, it is\ncurious that not all the raiders were thus shaven. Whether there was\nany reason why all did not share in this treatment of the head, or\nindeed what the palm-leaf ornament signified, it was not possible to\nascertain. The observer was assured, however, {245} that the shaving\nwas necessary in order to bring the fast to an end, and that in former\ndays the shorn hair was thrown into the water with invocations to the\nspirits. Now it lay neglected where it fell. The day was concluded\nwith feasting and further dances; but the men were not yet entirely\nrelieved from their taboo. This was accomplished early the next\nmorning with a bath in the river; and the slaughter of hogs and\nanother feast brought the solemnity to a close.[245.1]\n\nOn the other hand, all supernatural beings are deceived and tricked\nwith what are to us very transparent devices. The standard of\nintellect in the other world would seem to be much lower than in this.\nEven the spirits of Shakespeare and Milton, when conjured up in a\nspiritualistic _s\u00e9ance_, are found stripped of all their supreme\nqualities, and hardly the equals of the silly persons who have flocked\nto their manifestations. In Borneo it is recorded that \u201csome Madang [a\nsub-tribe of the Kenyahs], who had crossed over from the Baram to the\nRejang on a visit, appeared each with a cross marked in charcoal on\nhis forehead. They supposed that by this means they were disguised\nbeyond all recognition by evil spirits.\u201d And Tama Bulan, a Kenyah\nchief, when on a visit to Kuching, discarded for the same reason the\nleopard\u2019s teeth which he habitually wore at home through the upper\npart of his ears.[245.2] In the same island also the Kayans protect a\nchild from an evil-disposed Toh, or inferior spirit, by a sooty mark\non the forehead, consisting of a vertical median line and a horizontal\nband above the eyebrows, which is thought to render it difficult for\nthe Toh to recognize his victim.[245.3]\n\n{246}\n\nThis facility of deception, it may be observed, extends to other\nsenses than that of sight. It is accountable for the taboo of words\nand the use of euphemisms in hunting and on other occasions. The poor\nsilly spirits will not be able to penetrate the disguise. In the\nnorth-east of Scotland the fishermen when at sea never pronounced the\nwords _minister_, _kirk_, _swine_, _salmon_, _trout_, _dog_, and so\non, but used other words or phrases instead, such as \u201cbell-hoose\u201d for\n_kirk_, or \u201cthe man wi\u2019 the black quyte\u201d for _minister_.[246.1] The\npeople of Mulera-Ruanda in German East Africa have a definite theory\nto account for such a practice. They hold that the spirits have indeed\nears and can hear what is said, but they have no eyes. Consequently\nwhen a householder proposes on some solemn occasion, as a betrothal,\nto sacrifice an animal, he directs the slave to go to the hill and\nfetch the thickest sweet potato for a feast, meaning a fat goat from\nthe herd. This goat he then offers to his ancestors, calling it an ox;\nfor the spirits will not be able to detect the cheat.[246.2] Like\nIsaac in the Hebrew story, they are blind, and \u201cwhat the eye doesn\u2019t\nsee, the heart doesn\u2019t grieve at,\u201d as our English proverb has it: they\ncan be thus deceived into giving their blessing in return for a\ntrifling gratification.\n\nYet it may be doubted whether the cases alleged by Professor Frazer in\nthe important paper to which reference has been made, as favouring the\nopinion that mourning clothes are a disguise, are not susceptible of a\ndifferent interpretation. So inconclusive did he himself think the\nevidence that he refrained from definitely committing himself to the\nopinion in question, though others have since done so. The custom of\npainting the face and body in mourning is so common that it is at\nleast remarkable that the tribes of Borneo, who disguise {247}\nthemselves, as we have seen, from hostile spirits with charcoal, do\nnot seem to attempt this defence against the peevish ghost of a newly\ndeceased person. They content themselves with wearing bark-cloth or\nclothes stained yellow with clay, with allowing the hair to grow where\nit is usually shaved, or shaving it where it usually grows, and with\nlaying aside personal ornaments or substituting for the metal earrings\ncommonly worn by the women a wooden makeshift.[247.1] In this way\nthey may be said to conform to the rule already discussed of reversing\nthe ordinary costume.\n\nA Bohemian custom required the mourners to put on masks and to\npractise strange behaviour on their return from the funeral. It may be\nconjectured that this was a dance or devil-drive, intended to expel,\nnot to deceive. Such dances are not uncommon, both at periodical\npurification ceremonies[247.2] and on the occasion of a death. The\nuse of masks at funeral dances of this kind has been reported, for\nexample, in recent years among the Bantu-speaking peoples of the\nprairie-land in the interior of the Kamerun. At these dances wooden\nmasks in the likeness of lower animals as well as of human beings are\nworn; and two of the latter, hideous enough to horrify any respectable\nghost, are figured by the German explorer who discovered them.[247.3]\nMore recently another German explorer has found, on the Upper Aiary in\nthe interior of Brazil, mourning-dances of a similar character, in\nwhich masks were used representing various animals and demons, and has\ngiven figures from photographs of the dancers, as well as a lively\ndescription of one of the dances which he witnessed. This dance began\nwith an attack on the {248} Maloka, or community-house, by a troop of\nevil spirits, who eventually succeeded in storming it. The mother and\nwidow of the dead man wailed. The attacking party, having forced an\nentrance, sang. The women were terrified, but the scene ended in\nweeping and laughter. It was followed by dances and songs by the\nvarious animals; and the performance was concluded by a phallic\ndance--a pantomime of the process of reproduction. The meaning of the\nmasque, the explorer declares, was clear. It was a magic ritual\nintended to propitiate the angry ghost of the deceased, that he might\nnot return and carry off any of the survivors. The evil demons, to\nwhose charge perhaps the death was laid, and from whose spite mankind\nis never safe, would by the performance be hindered from further\nmischief. M\u00e1kuk\u00f6 (the forest-demon) and the jaguar, foes of the\nhunter, the spoilers of the crops (worms, larv\u00e6, and other vermin),\nand likewise the game itself were meant, by the mimicry of their\nvarious proceedings, to be magically influenced and rendered\nfavourable to men, so that rich booty, large harvests, and every sort\nof fertility and blessing would result.[248.1]\n\nIf it be objected that a mask is by its very nature intended to\ndeceive, we must not forget that that is very often not its primary\nobject. A nurse in play with a child will sometimes put on a mask for\nan instant. She does so not to deceive the child as to her identity,\nbut to cause a momentary terror. So the horrible distortions of the\nhuman countenance, the wild, the grotesque, the impossible mingling of\nhuman and bestial features characteristic of many of the masks used in\nthese dances, are often intended rather to terrify than to deceive the\nsupernatural beings against whom the performance is directed. {249} A\nwarrior going to battle decks himself out with paint and feathers,\nwith helmet and grinning crest, in order to strike fear into the heart\nof his foe. Spirits are as easily frightened as human beings. Indeed,\nhappily for the comfort of mankind, they are possessed of uncommonly\nweak nerves which fail them, with all their malevolence, at every\nturn. All that is necessary is for the man who knows how to deal with\nthem to put on a bold front, and they will flee before him.\n\nProfessor de Groot, writing of the war against spectres in China,\nsays: \u201cA courageous man while boldly fighting, or trying to terrify by\naggressive gestures, easily gets his hair disordered. Therefore\nflowing hair intimates intrepidity, and cannot fail to inspire the\nspectral world with fear.\u2026 This idea has not only formed the text of\nold traditions, but as early as the Han dynasty had created the custom\nof setting up long-haired heads, in order to drive away spectres. No\nwonder that to this day long-haired exorcists assuming this terrifying\naspect, and enhancing it by weapons brandished with vigour, are\neveryday appearances also in spectre-expelling processions.\nAccoutrements,\u201d he goes on to say, \u201chave been worn with the same\nobject since early times. Before the Christian era, the _fang-siang_,\nwhile purifying grave-pits, houses, and streets, were dressed with\nbearskins and masked with grotesque caps; and under the Han dynasty\npersons masked as animals, feathered, haired and horned, accompanied\nthem in exorcising processions, jumping about and screaming. Probably\nsuch exorcists have appeared in all ages at funerals. Even to this\nday\u2026 _fang-siang_ are seen therein in the shape of\neffigies.\u201d[249.1]\n\nBut masked personages in many mourning-dances represent the ghosts\nthemselves. In the islands of Torres {250} Straits, for example, such\nrepresentations are an indispensable part of the funeral ceremonies,\nand the identity of the ghost is \u201cindicated by a pantomimic\nrepresentation of characteristic traits of the deceased. The idea,\u201d\nsays Dr Haddon, \u201cevidently was to convey to the mourners the assurance\nthat the ghost was alive and that in the person of the dancer he\nvisited his friends; the assurance of his life after death comforted\nthe bereaved ones.\u201d[250.1] The identification of the performer with\nthe deceased is among some peoples complete. Thirty days after the\ndeath of an adult Musquakie Indian the dead man is personated by a\nfriend, who in this character attends a farewell feast preparatory to\nthe final departure of the ghost for the Happy Hunting Grounds. He is\ncalled the ghost-carrier. When the sun goes down he departs toward the\nwest, convoyed by a number of the friends of the deceased, all of\nwhom, like himself, are painted but not masked. After nightfall they\nreturn and are welcomed as from a long journey. The ghost-carrier is\nby everyone addressed by the name of the deceased. In a few days he\nvisits the parents of the deceased, if they survive, announcing\nhimself as their dead son, who would care for them in their old age.\nHe is henceforth looked upon as their son, called by that son\u2019s name,\nand pledged to a son\u2019s duty to them, though his own parents do not\nnecessarily give him up and still call him by his own name. Similar\nceremonies are performed for women by women.[250.2] In fact the\nperformer who represents a supernatural being in a religious dance of\nany kind is quite commonly regarded not as a representative, but as\nthe supernatural personage himself, so long as he wears the mask and\nbears his attributes. So an author already quoted, writing of the\n{251} Indians of North-Western Brazil, says: \u201cThe demon is involved in\nthe mask, is incorporated in it; the mask is for the Indian the demon\nhimself.\u2026 The demon of the mask passes over into the masquer for the\ntime being.\u201d[251.1] The masked dances of these Indians are performed\nespecially in honour of the dead. The masks therefore are intended to\ndeceive nobody, not even the recently deceased, who as a new arrival\nin the other world may be \u201ca babe in these things.\u201d The masquers are\nthe demons _in propriis personis_ without any deceit.\n\nA different case is that of a Myoro woman cited by Dr Frazer from\nCaptain Speke\u2019s _Journal of the Discovery of the Source of the Nile_.\nHer child had died. She smeared herself with butter and ashes and ran\nfrantically about, \u201cwhile the men abused her in foul language for the\nexpress purpose of frightening away the demons\u201d who had carried off\nher child. And Dr Frazer asks: \u201cIf curses are meant to frighten, are\nnot the ashes meant to deceive the demon?\u201d[251.2] From the\ndescription of the scene, however, it seems probable that the demon\nwas conceived as actually in possession of the woman, and that it was\nintended to drive him out of her. In that event again there would be\nno deception of the demon--it was open war; while the ashes may be\nreferable to quite another cause, as will be suggested below.\n\nA third possible example is the custom in Calabria, whereby the women\ncease wailing at night and put off the black veils they donned at the\nmoment of death.[251.3] Here it may be, as Professor Frazer suggests,\na sufficient explanation that disguise is superfluous in the dark. The\ncustom of wearing veils or hoods to conceal the face in {252} mourning\nis not confined to Europe, though widely spread there. The \u201cweepers\u201d\nand other crape trappings still in use in France, but for the most\npart abandoned in this country, are probably relics of it. It is found\namong nations sundered as far as the Eskimo on the shores of the\nfrozen ocean from the tribes of the Eastern Archipelago and Melanesia.\nThe veil is sometimes worn without intermission. Among the Minuanes of\nSouth America the widow carefully covers her face with her hair,\nnotwithstanding she remains for several days in the hut.[252.1] About\nBering Strait the housemates of a deceased Eskimo must remain in their\naccustomed places in the house during the four days following the\ndeath, while the ghost is believed to be still about. During this time\nall of them must keep their fur hoods drawn over their heads, not to\ndeceive the dead man, but \u201cto prevent the influence of the shade from\nentering their heads and killing them.\u201d[252.2] Where the mourners are\nconfined more or less to the house, however, the custom of veiling is\noften, perhaps usually, more stringent on going out of doors than when\nthey are inside in the dark. In the lower culture the women at least\nare frequently confined to the house, and only go out in case of\nnecessity at night, or at early morning and evening to weep at the\ngrave. But the Calabrian women would more naturally go out of doors,\nif at all, by day; hence they would be more closely veiled by day; and\nat night, when they would not go out, they might wear their ordinary\nhead-dress of a white handkerchief. It is at least curious that they\nthemselves assume that they would be recognized at night through the\ndisguise by \u201c_il demonio_,\u201d who has doubtless succeeded to the\npre-Christian terrors of the other world; and they declare it is lest\nhe should rejoice {253} over their sorrow--to deceive him as to that,\nand not as to their identity--that they doff the discomfort of the\nveil. For the same reason they take the opportunity to suspend their\nwailing, which to be sure is not as a rule anywhere absolutely\ncontinuous: human nature could not endure it.\n\nTaboo is the most contagious of diseases. Mourning garb is its outward\nand visible sign, and a warning to all who would otherwise come into\ncontact with the mourner. The veil in particular may be compared with\nthe head-coverings and seclusion required of girls arriving at\nmaturity. At that period they also are under taboo. Among the Eskimo,\nthe tribes of British Columbia, many of the South American tribes and\nthe Bantu tribes of Africa, and over a considerable area in the south\nof Asia, the Indian Ocean and Melanesia, adolescent girls are confined\nfor a longer or shorter time where they cannot be seen, or kept\ncovered if they go out of doors. They are very sensitive to the\ninfluence of the sun.[253.1] But it is not merely that the sun would\naffect them; their very glance is deleterious. A Thlinkit girl wears a\nhat with long flaps, that her glance may not pollute the sky. Among\nthe Tsetsaut it is believed that if she were to expose her face to the\nsun or the sky, rain would fall.[253.2] So the Hupa grave-digger in\nCalifornia is under a taboo. He has come into contact with death, and\nis required after the funeral to carry a bough of Douglas spruce over\nhis head, \u201cthat he may not by any chance glance at the sky or at any\nhuman being, thereby contaminating them.\u201d[253.3] On the island of\nMabuiag, if a maturing girl\u2019s own father see her, he will have bad\nluck in fishing, and probably {254} smash his canoe the next time he\ngoes in it.[254.1] So far as I am aware, there is no intention in\nveiling a girl at puberty to disguise her so as to delude any\nspiritual foe. It is true that both she and the mourners at a death\n(including all who take part in the death-rites) are exposed to\nspecial dangers. That is because they are alike in a state of taboo.\nThey are thus also dangerous to others. They must be secluded; or if\nthey venture abroad they must be either covered or so garbed as to\nkeep other persons at a distance.\n\nThat the same reasons apply, at all events among some tribes, to the\nveiling of the faces of widows and widowers appears from the customs\nof the Lkungen of Vancouver Island. After a burial \u201cthe whole tribe go\ndown to the sea, wash their heads, bathe, and cut their hair. The\nnearer related a person is to the deceased, the shorter he cuts his\nhair. Those who do not belong to the deceased\u2019s family merely clip the\nends of their hair.\u2026 Widow and widower, after the death of wife or\nhusband, are forbidden to cut their hair, as they would gain too great\npower over the souls and the welfare of others. They must remain alone\nat their fire for a long time, and are forbidden to mingle with other\npeople. When they eat, nobody must see them. They must keep their\nfaces covered for ten days. They fast for two days after burial and\nare not allowed to speak. After two days they may speak a little; but\nbefore addressing anyone they must go into the woods and clean\nthemselves in ponds and with cedar-branches. If they wish to harm an\nenemy they call his name when taking their first meal after the fast,\nand bite very hard in eating. It is believed that this will kill him.\nThey must not go near the water, or eat fresh salmon, as the latter\nmight be driven away. {255} They must not eat warm food, else their\nteeth would fall out.\u201d[255.1] This account shows that the widow or\nwidower is dangerous to other people, and consequently in a state of\ntaboo. It further shows that the fast and privation of society and\ncomfort that such a mourner undergoes materially increase his\n_orenda_, giving him power to kill his enemy by sympathetic magic, or\neven rendering him a peril to his own community if he add to the\nseverity of his penance by cutting his hair, as a mourner who is not\nso nearly related to the deceased does. All this is in accord with the\nprinciples underlying the taboo and fast of girls and boys at puberty.\nThere can be very little doubt that it is dictated by similar motives.\nIf so, the covering of the face is, here at least, not intended to\ndisguise the mourner and conceal him from the ghost. It is an integral\nportion of his taboo. It helps to safeguard the well-being of the\nsurviving members of his community, and to make his own _orenda_ more\npowerful.\n\nIt is no part of my case to deny that mourning garb is ever intended\nto deceive the ghost. Customs differ so much in different cultural\nareas that it is quite possible there may be some instances in which\nthe intention is to disguise the mourner by way of precaution against\nthe deceased. Professor Frazer has brought forward two cases, and only\ntwo, so far as I am aware, in which this object is avowed. The first\nis found in the western districts of the island of Timor. When a man\ndies and before his body is put into a coffin, his wives stand weeping\nover it with their village gossips, \u201call with loosened hair, in order\nto make themselves unrecognizable by the _nitu_ (spirit) of the\ndead.\u201d[255.2] I have not seen the authority {256} he cites; therefore\nI do not know whether we are given any information how a widow in\nthese districts habitually wears her hair. For aught that appears\nhere, the hair is loosened only for this ceremony, which comes to an\nend with the enclosure of the corpse in the coffin, and may not last\nfor more than an hour or two. If so, whatever be the reason for\nhindering the ghost from identifying the participants, the loosening\nof the hair may not be, strictly speaking, part of the mourning garb.\n\nThe other case is a practice occasionally in use among the Herero.\nWhen a dying man intimates to one of his relatives and friends, who\ncrowd around him at such a time, that he has \u201cdecided upon taking him\naway after his death,\u201d that is to say, that he will kill him (fetch\nhim to the other world), the person so threatened has recourse to an\n_onganga_, or witch-doctor. This functionary strips him, washes and\ngreases him afresh, and dresses him in other clothes. \u201cHe is now quite\nat his ease about the threatening of death caused by the deceased;\nfor, says he: \u2018Now, our father does not know me.\u2019\u201d The survivors,\nhowever, may fulfil the threat.[256.1] This certainly does appear to\nbe a case of disguise, or at least a change of clothes in order to\ndeceive the deceased; but the substituted clothes do not appear to be\nmourning garb, and the problem of mourning garb is what we are\nendeavouring to solve.\n\nThat protection is needed against the ghost of the recently dead is\nclear. All over the world there is fear of ghosts. Protection,\nhowever, is not commonly sought in disguise, even in extreme cases. It\nis frequently sought, as against other supernatural foes, in fire. The\ncustom is so well known that it need not now detain us.[256.2] {257}\nThe Ewhe widow provides herself with a club, burns pungent powders and\ntakes other precautions from assault, or even approach, by the\ndeceased. A widower does the same. In both cases the event to be\ndreaded is the attempt by the deceased to renew conjugal relations.\nThis danger assumes recognition by the ghost. So far from seeking to\nelude it, she goes entirely naked. The lot, whether of widow or\nwidower, is not happy, though here, as elsewhere, the woman gets the\nworst of it: she must be defended for six weeks, while seven or eight\ndays suffice for him.[257.1] The Charrua mourner in South America\nwent forth into the wilderness armed with a stick.[257.2] The Eskimo\nof Bering Strait indeed wear fur hoods, but, as we have seen, they are\na direct defence against the penetrative influence of the ghost, not a\ndisguise. The Koryak, the Timorlaut islanders, the Ngoulango of the\nIvory Coast seek refuge in a talisman or amulet.[257.3]\n\nThe amulet preserved by the son of the deceased Timorlaut islander is\na piece of his father\u2019s nail. According to the rules of sympathetic\nmagic he preserves in this way his corporal union with the deceased,\nand thereby ensures his protection. The widow or widower does not take\na portion of the body, but wears a piece of the clothing. This\nobviously is intended to have the same effect. The practice is not\nunknown elsewhere. In Syria when a man dies his wife puts on one of\nhis garments and sings funeral songs.[257.4] Dr Junker relates that\nhe witnessed the ceremonies on the death of the ruler of Kabajendi,\nwho had lived almost all his life {258} among the A-sande and was\nmourned according to their rites. His wives, after wailing beside the\ncoffin, marched through the zeriba and pretended to search in every\nhole and corner, crying out to him, creeping in and out on hands and\nknees under the overhanging thatch of the roofs, then gathering and\nstarting again on further explorations, all the while howling,\nshrieking, and lamenting. The next morning those of them who could\nmanage to possess themselves of any article of his clothing put it on,\nmarching round the village thus attired in a continual procession or\ndance, while others carried sword, lances, clubs, climbing plants,\nmaize-cobs, and so forth, their heads strewn with ashes. This\nperformance lasted for a fortnight, despite the tropical rain.[258.1]\n\nSome light on this fantastic promenade may be thrown by the\nproceedings of the Bangala women. In the Boloki district, \u201cwhen a man\nof any position died his wives would throw off their dresses and wear\nold rags (sometimes they would go absolutely naked), pick up anything\nbelonging to him--his chair, spear, pipe, mug, knife, shield or\nblanket--anything that came first to hand; and having covered their\nbodies with a coating of clay, they would parade the town in ones, or\ntwos, or threes, crying bitterly and calling upon him to return to\nthem. They would stop at times in their crying and say: \u2018He is gone to\nSo-and-so; we will go and find him\u2019; and away they would start off in\na business-like fashion in their pretended search for him. This\nparading they would keep up for a day or two, and then women of the\ntown would bedeck themselves with climbing plants, vines, {259}\nleaves, and bunches of twigs; and, forming themselves into a\nprocession, they would march through the town chanting the praises of\nthe deceased. Men would paint and arm themselves as for a fight, and\nwould imitate the daring acts of the departed as a warrior; and if he\nhad been remarkable for fighting on the river, they would arrange a\nsham canoe-fight in his honour.\u2026 It was an amusing and interesting\nsight, and seemed to be thoroughly enjoyed both by actors and\nspectators alike. They called this praising or honouring the\ndead.\u201d[259.1]\n\nIt has been suggested that the wearing of a portion of the clothing of\nthe dead is intended to delude him into the belief that those who do\nso are themselves dead, and so to turn aside his attack.[259.2] No\nproof, so far as I am aware, has been offered for the suggestion.\nWhatever the exact intention of the A-sande rite (and its equivalence\nwith the Boloki rite is obvious), it can hardly be tortured into this.\nThe ghost must be stupid indeed who cannot distinguish his own\nclothing and personal chattels when carried about by his wives. To\nwear the clothing of the deceased identifies the mourner with him,\nsometimes for the purpose of protection by means of sympathetic magic,\nsometimes for the presentation of the dead man in funeral ceremonies\nlike those of the Torres Straits islanders or the Musquakie\nIndians.[259.3] Where this is not the object, to put on his coat and\nto carry his mug or his spear in procession may be due, as it seems to\nbe here, to some vague idea of honouring him, or perhaps of inducing\nhim to return. The supposition that it is intended to deceive the\nghost may be safely discarded.\n\nIn more general terms it has been conjectured that {260} mourning\nrites are intended to express union with the departed by obligatory,\nif partial, participation of his state, that by virtue of the\ncontagion of death the mourners have become really changed and are for\na time as if they were dead, hence they must eat, clothe, and conduct\nthemselves as far as possible like the dead.[260.1] Lastly, it has\nbeen pointed out that many of the observances imposed on mourners are\na return to more primitive and savage conditions--such as sitting on\nthe bare earth, going naked or wearing only the roughest and coarsest\nstuffs, and abstaining from good food in favour of wild berries and\nroots;--and the question has been put whether this may not be the\nessence of mourning.[260.2] There is probably some measure of truth\nin both these suggestions; but they must not be pressed too far. Many\nof the rites and usages are intended beyond question to express\nsympathy for the deceased, and a temporary segregation with him from\nordinary life.\n\nBut they go further: in all the greater degrees of mourning at least\nthey indicate grief at his loss that is calculated to call down the\npity and compassion of every beholder, and to deprecate the wrath or\nill-humour of the deceased. It is very striking that while coarse and\nscanty garments (sackcloth or bark-cloths among peoples who usually\nwear cotton or wool, and mere loin-cloths or nothing at all among\npeoples usually clad) are worn in place of more luxurious stuffs, a\nfrequently recurring prescription is old worn-out clothes. In the\nTonga Islands the mourners (who are always women) are \u201chabited in\nlarge old ragged mats--the more ragged, the more fit for the occasion,\nas being more emblematical of a spirit broken down, or, as it were,\ntorn to pieces by {261} grief.\u201d[261.1] In the hinterland of the\nSherbro in West Africa, on the mourning for a chief\u2019s death, the\npeople most closely connected with him \u201cpresented an unkempt and\nslovenly appearance, their bodies draped in the oldest and dirtiest of\ntheir cloths.\u201d[261.2] Among the Baganda on the other side of the\ncontinent the mourning garb for an ordinary man is \u201cold bark-cloths\nand a girdle of dry plantain leaves: the hair is unkempt, the nails\nare allowed to grow long like birds\u2019 claws, and on the chest is a\nwhite patch, a mixture of water and ashes.\u201d[261.3] The custom of\nstrewing ashes on the person is very widely practised: more than one\nexample has been incidentally given. Among the Hebrews its use was not\nconfined to mourning for the dead; repentance in dust and ashes is a\nfamiliar figure in English speech, and is derived from the Bible. The\ngeneral air of neglect and misery produced by these practices might be\nparalleled in the mourning customs of most countries. Even in our own\nisland little more than a hundred years ago it was noted that the\nchief mourner at a funeral in the parish of Llanvetherine,\nMonmouthshire, and elsewhere wore a dirty cloth about his\nhead.[261.4] And of many peoples the description by a French writer\nof the mourning garb among the Agni of Sanwi on the Ivory Coast would\nhold literally true: \u201cOld black loin-cloths, unwashed for a long time.\n_On ne se peigne pas--on ne fait pas de toilette--on reste\nmodeste._\u201d[261.5]\n\nThis is not all. Mourners fast, abstaining altogether from food or\nindulging only in restricted diet, and that of an inferior kind. On\nthe island of Aurora all who are in mourning refrain from certain\nfood. The immediate relatives may not eat any cultivated food. {262}\nThey are limited to gigantic caladium, bread-fruit, cocoa-nuts,\nmallow, and other things which must be sought in the bush where they\ngrow.[262.1] The ancient Hurons were forbidden, even in cold weather,\nto eat warm food.[262.2] Among the Charruas of South America the\nadult sons of a dead man remain for two days entirely naked in their\nhuts and almost without food.[262.3] In Togoland the Ewhe widow is\nforbidden beans, flesh, fish, palm-wine and rum; any infringement of\nthese prohibitions would cost her life.[262.4]\n\nMany nations add to their other rites that of laceration or even\nmutilation of the body. In Central Australia the Warramunga women\nfight with one another and cut one another\u2019s scalps, and all who stand\nin any near relation to the deceased, reckoned according to the\nclassificatory system--which greatly widens the area of\nrelationship--also cut their own scalps open with yam-sticks, the\nactual widows even searing the wound with red-hot fire-sticks.[262.5]\nIt was forbidden to the ancient Hebrews, by what was evidently a\nreform of a pre-existing custom, to make a baldness between the eyes\nfor the dead--in other words, to cut themselves on the brow.[262.6]\nAmong the Arawaks a drinking-feast is held, at which all the men of\nthe village assemble and scourge one another with whips made of a\nclimbing plant, until the blood runs in streams and strips of skin and\nmuscle hang down. Those who participate in the rite often die of their\nwounds.[262.7] As if mere wounding were not enough, {263}\nfinger-joints are frequently cut off. In the Fiji Islands the\namputation of a finger-joint is a common sign of mourning. In one case\nin Tonga when a king died orders were issued that one hundred fingers\nshould be cut off.[263.1] In Montana, one of the north-western states\nof America, on the execution of four aborigines for murder in December\n1890, they were mourned by two squaws, who scalped their children. One\nof them gashed her own face, while the other cut off two of her\nfingers and threw them into the grave.[263.2] When a Charrua dies his\nwidow and his married daughters and sisters amputate each of them a\nfinger-joint, besides inflicting other wounds on themselves.[263.3]\n\nThe illustration of practices like these might be multiplied\nindefinitely. The same reason holds good for them all. In the lower\nculture grief at a death is often intensified by fear--on the one\nhand, of an accusation of witchcraft--on the other hand, of the\nill-will of the deceased himself, who is naturally disgusted to find\nhimself dead. Against the latter danger at any rate the forlorn\ncondition of the survivors, stiff with wounds, thrust like him from\nthe company of their friends and fellow-tribesmen, made to wear a\ndistinctive garb, often in rags or dirt, wailing, watching, fasting,\nwould constitute an appeal that even the ghost of a savage would feel\nhard to resist. That this is actually the effect intended, in some\ninstances at least, is certain. A widow among the Salivas of South\nAmerica cuts her hair, and is not allowed to anoint herself as usual,\nnor to wear any ornament, in order, we are expressly told, not to\nirritate the departed, but to humble herself before him.[263.4] {264}\nNor must it be overlooked that wailing and lamenting, so usually part\nof the rites practised especially by the chief mourners, such as\nwidows and near relations, would not favour concealment. On the\ncontrary, they would draw attention to the grief, and help even the\nsimplest and most easily deluded of ghosts to identify the mourner,\nwhich they would seem indeed to be meant to do. But they would\npowerfully deprecate his malice or revenge. In this connection the\nbelief of the Ba\u00f1arwanda on the east of Lake Kivu, in German East\nAfrica, is interesting. To them the _bazimu_ (plural of _muzimu_) or\nsouls of the departed are by no means always kindly disposed, even the\nbest of them. They must be continually propitiated with offerings, or\nthey will cause calamities, either of themselves directly, or\nindirectly by setting in motion the _imandwa_, semi-apotheosized\nheroes. But the _muzimu_ does not begin his mischievous activities\nuntil the mourning ceremonies are at an end. So long as they last the\nsurvivors are quite safe from him, for he will not during that period\nattack the living.[264.1]\n\nMany customs, sometimes born of widely differing motives, converge in\na similarity of expression. Hence it is impossible in the present\nstate of our knowledge dogmatically to assert a single origin for\npractices of a like character extending over so wide an area as those\nwe have just passed in review. They are the expression of the\npsychological reaction caused by the shock of death and the consequent\nbreach of the circle of kinship or other social bonds. The taboo\nresults from the bewilderment and terror caused by the entry of death\ninto the circle. The conduct and garb of the mourners are the outcome\nof grief and sympathy, but also of fear. That fear has for its object\nsurvivors who have it in their {265} power to involve the mourners in\neven a more terrible doom by an accusation of witchcraft. Even more,\nit has regard to death itself, and to the inimical designs of him\nwhose earthly life has been severed, and who has thereby been\nconverted into an envious, and if not a malicious, at least a peevish\nand easily angered, being, armed by his death with greater, because\nmore mysterious, powers. Mourning garb is often a device to secure his\ncompassion; it is often a defence against his overt attacks; but on\nthe whole tangible proof is lacking that it is a disguise to deceive\nhim.\n\n\n\n\n THE RITE AT THE TEMPLE\n OF MYLITTA\n\n{266}\n\nAmong the religious rites of antiquity there was none more alien to\nmodern feeling than the sacrifice of chastity by every Babylonian\nwoman at the temple of Mylitta. It is described first and in most\ndetail by Herodotus, whose denunciation of it shows that to the Greeks\nof the fifth century B.C. it was as abhorrent as it is to us.\nAccording to this account, every woman once in her life was required\nto sit down in the precincts of the temple of Mylitta wearing a wreath\nof cord about her head, and there to wait until a stranger should\nthrow a silver coin into her lap and summon her with ritual words in\nthe name of the goddess to follow him. She was not allowed to refuse,\nbut was compelled to follow the first man who threw, and to have\nsexual intercourse with him outside the temple. She might then depart\nto her home, her duty to the goddess being fulfilled.[266.1] The\nhistorian lets fall the observation that there was a similar custom in\nsome places in Cyprus. This has been supposed to be referred to by\nJustin, who wrote probably after the establishment of Christianity,\nbut whose work consists of selections from Trogus Pompeius, a lost\nwriter of the Augustan age. He reports that it was the Cypriote custom\nto send maidens before their marriage on certain days to seek their\ndowry by prostitution on the seashore, {267} and to pay the offerings\nto Venus for their future chastity. Dido on her way to Carthage\ntouched at the island at the very time, and took on board her fleet\neighty of these damsels, to be wives to her followers and assist in\npeopling the city she was going to found.[267.1] We shall further\nconsider Justin\u2019s statement hereafter. For the moment we pass on to\nHeliopolis (Baalbec), where, the ecclesiastical historian Socrates\naffirms, virgins were offered in prostitution to strangers.[267.2] He\ndoes not, any more than Justin, connect this with a temple or a\ndivinity; but from Sozomen we gather that it was a religious\nobservance, inasmuch as the prostitution of virgins prior to their\nmarriage is stated to have been abolished by Constantine when he\ndestroyed the temple of Aphrodite.[267.3] A similar custom, according\nto \u00c6lian, was followed by the Lydians. And he expressly says that\nwhen once the rite had been performed the woman remained ever\nafterwards chaste, nor would a repetition be forgiven her on any\nplea.[267.4] Herodotus, however, states that the daughters of the\ncommon people in Lydia earned their dowries by a life of\nprostitution.[267.5] The two writers are obviously referring to two\ndifferent customs. A third custom distinct from either is mentioned by\nStrabo as practised by the Armenians, among whom even the highest\nfamilies of the nation consecrated their virgin daughters to the\nservice of the goddess Anaitis, to remain as prostitutes at her temple\nbefore their marriage.[267.6]\n\n{268}\n\nWhat is the relation of these three customs? They have usually been\nconsidered as closely connected. It may be, as Dr Frazer suspects,\nthat the real motive for the custom described as that of earning\ndowries by prostitution was religious, rather than economical,\nalthough my own suspicions point in another direction. But putting\nthat custom aside for further examination, both the others are\ncertainly portrayed as religious. As practised by the nations of\nWestern Asia for a thousand years prior to the fall of paganism they\nwere annexed to the cult of certain divinities. There is, however, a\nbroad distinction to be drawn between a custom requiring every woman\nonce in her lifetime to submit to the embraces of a stranger, and one\nwhich consecrated a life of prostitution. Such a life was one of\ndevotion to the goddess as a more or less permanent servant. The other\ncustom demanded a single act which freed the worshipper for the rest\nof her days. It may be freely conceded that the goddess at whose\ntemple, or on whose feast-day, the act was performed was endowed with\nsimilar characteristics to those of the goddess in whose service the\nlife of prostitution was lived. It may even have been that sometimes\nthe same goddess had bands of harlots attached to her shrine, and also\nrequired the sacrifice of the virginity of all other women in the\nmanner described. This perhaps, as we shall see, was the case in\nLydia. We should still need to investigate separately the two customs.\nOne of the most fertile sources of error in the interpretation of\ncustom is the fatal tendency of rites distinct, or even altogether\ndifferent in origin and intention, but similar in expression, to\nconverge. This convergence is accelerated by a variety of causes. The\nnatural vagueness of tradition, the forgetfulness of the exact\noriginal meaning, the gradual predominance of one idea over another\nowing {269} to circumstances which, for want of knowledge, we call\naccidental, the tendency to repeat by way of precaution in one rite\nacts which essentially belong to another, are all causes of the kind\nreferred to. Moreover, we have so often found in the similarity of\nrite the real key to a common interpretation, that where convergence\ndoes not in fact occur there is a temptation to read identity of\nmeaning into two rites having a superficial likeness. It behoves us,\ntherefore, to be on our guard, and to scrutinize with some scepticism\nall cases where the identity both of act and intention is not\ndemonstrably complete.\n\nThe practices I have enumerated have all been interpreted as\nexpiations for marriage. Marriage, it is said,--the appropriation of\none or more women to one man--is an evolution from the primeval\ncondition of promiscuity. Religious prostitution, the _jus prim\u00e6\nnoctis_ and other customs are expiations exacted by society from women\nwho are thus appropriated. They witness to the primeval common rights\nof the male sex, thus asserted for the last time by one or more on\nbehalf of all on abandoning the woman to the exclusive possession of\none of their number.\n\nNow, if the interpretation in question be suitable for any of these\ncustoms, it is more suitable for the single rite such as that at the\ntemple of Mylitta than for the exercise of prostitution over an\nextended period; and it is to this rite that I desire more\nparticularly to call attention. I need hardly observe that the\nexplanation of the rite as an expiation for marriage does not by any\nmeans follow of necessity from the theory of primitive promiscuity. On\nthe contrary it overlooks one of the peculiar features of the rite.\nAlike at Babylon, at Heliopolis, and apparently at Cyprus (if Cyprus\nbe a case in point) the act has to be accomplished with a stranger. If\nit were {270} a forfeit rendered to the general body of men, who might\nhave had a claim to temporary union but for the institution of\nmarriage, or if it were a formal witness of that claim, it would seem,\n_prima facie_, more natural that it should be accomplished with some\none or more of the claimants, that is to say, with a member or members\nof the same community. A similar rite of intercourse with a stranger\nwas practised, as Lucian relates, at Byblus. There it was the custom\nat the mourning for Adonis to perform the well-known mourning rite of\ncutting off the hair. Any woman who refused to do this was required to\nexhibit herself on one day of the festival and undergo prostitution to\none of the strangers who resorted thither, handing over the price to\nthe goddess called by Lucian the Byblian Aphrodite.[270.1] The rite\nas there practised therefore was, at all events in the second century\nA.D., an alternative to the dedication of hair: it was a redemption\nfor the tresses that should have been sacrificed. Thus the woman would\nrepeat the expiation once a year, whether married or single, so long\nas she was unwilling to shear her locks, or preferred the alternative\nsacrifice of her chastity. There is no evidence that it ever had\nanything to do with marriage; it certainly had not when Lucian wrote.\n\nThe rite at Byblus must, however, be distinguished from those we are\nconsidering. They were performed by every woman without alternative,\nbut they were performed only once. If they were an expiation for\nmarriage we should expect to find them described as part of the\nmarriage rites. The Balearic islanders, the Nasamonians and the\nAuziles in antiquity had, as well as many modern savages, such rites,\nwhether or not they can be properly explained as an expiation for\nmarriage. But at the most the rites with which we are now concerned\nwere a {271} preliminary to marriage--a necessary preliminary,\nperhaps, but one that might have been accomplished at any period\nbefore it. Indeed, so far as appears from Herodotus, the victim, if we\nmay call her so, of the Babylonian rite was not necessarily unmarried.\nBut comparison of the accounts of the practice at Heliopolis, in Lydia\nand in Cyprus renders it fairly certain that it was only unmarried\nwomen who were subjected to it, and that it was essentially a\nsacrifice of maidenhood. A passing reference by Eusebius has been\ninterpreted to imply that at Heliopolis both married women and girls\nwere prostituted in the service of the goddess.[271.1] But Eusebius\nsays nothing about the goddess. His reference must be construed in the\nlight of Socrates\u2019 statement that women were by the law of the country\nrequired to be common, and hence the offspring was doubtful, for there\nwas no distinction between fathers and children.[271.2] Whatever else\nthose phrases may mean, they entirely negative the theory of expiation\nfor marriage. But they do not refer to the custom of prostituting\nvirgins to strangers, which the historian expressly distinguishes.\n\nIt may be objected to this reading of Herodotus that while he uses the\ngeneric term women (\u03b3\u03c5\u03bd\u03b1\u1fd6\u03ba\u03b5\u03c2) in speaking of the victims, on the other\nhand, in a previous chapter referring to the Babylonian marriage\ncustoms, he {272} reports that once a year in every village the\nmarriageable maidens (\u03c0\u03b1\u03c1\u03b8\u03ad\u03bd\u03bf\u03b9) were all put up to auction, the\nrespective purchasers being required to give security that they would\nmarry them; and it was unlawful to give them in marriage in any other\nway. The objection is of little weight. It is needless to consider\nwhether we are to understand the specific term \u03c0\u03b1\u03c1\u03b8\u03ad\u03bd\u03bf\u03b9 literally.\nEven if so, there would doubtless be ample time for the performance of\nthe rite at the temple of Mylitta between the auction and the\nmarriage. It does not appear that marriage followed the auction\nimmediately. Had that been contemplated, security would hardly have\nbeen necessary. When the anniversary came round all the maidens who\nhad during the preceding year attained puberty and thus become ripe\nfor marriage (\u03b3\u03ac\u03bc\u03c9\u03bd \u1f61\u03c1\u03b1\u1fd6\u03b1\u03b9) were probably put up. Those who had not\npreviously undergone the rite would, if my interpretation be correct,\nbe required to submit to it before marriage.\n\nIt is superfluous to discuss other and obvious objections to the\ntheory of expiation for marriage. But the appearance of prostitution\nwhich the rite presents demands further consideration. At Babylon,\nalthough a piece of money passed, the payment seems to have been\nmerely _pro forma_. It mattered not how small the coin was, it could\nnot be refused. Whatever it was, Strabo tells us it was considered as\nconsecrated to the goddess. Lastly, the rite once performed, no gift,\nwere it ever so great, would be accepted to repeat it. The details of\nthe rite at Heliopolis and among the Lydians have not been preserved\nto us; but we may with probability infer that they were similar. In\nLydia, indeed, if we are to trust both \u00c6lian and Herodotus, two\ndistinct customs are traceable, namely, the sacrifice of virginity and\nthe life of prostitution to earn a dowry. A Greek inscription {273} of\nthe second century A.D., found at Tralles and referred to by Dr\nFrazer, discloses also the existence of religious prostitution by\ngirls expressly chosen by the god and set apart for that end.[273.1]\nThis is a similar custom to that of the Armenian girls already\nmentioned, and is not to be confounded with the prostitution mentioned\nby the Father of History as practised by all the daughters of the\ncommon people. Whatever may have been the origin of the latter, the\nother two in the time of \u00c6lian were connected with religion. On the\nisland of Cyprus we seem to find much the same state of things. If we\nmay believe Justin, the maidens earned their dowry by prostitution.\nFrom other sources we learn that there were mysteries of the Cypriote\nAphrodite, which were said to have been instituted by Cinyras, king of\nPaphos and father of Adonis. Into these mysteries there was a regular\ninitiation. Sexual matters no doubt formed their staple teaching; and\nwhat classical and especially apologetic writers would call\nprostitution would be practised. The legend ran that the daughters of\nCinyras, through the wrath of Aphrodite, united themselves with\nstrangers.[273.2] Probably it was believed to be in imitation of them\nthat the maidens of Cyprus sought prostitution on the seashore. In any\ncase the story indicates, as Dr Frazer has pointed out, \u201cthat the\nprincesses of Paphos had to conform to the custom as well as the women\nof humble birth.\u201d But if this be so, the object of the harlotry\nalleged by Justin falls to the ground, since it would be unnecessary\nfor princesses to earn their dowry. It may be suspected, therefore,\nthat Justin or his authority has confounded two disparate customs,\nthat of earning the {274} dowry by prostitution, and that of a\nreligious sacrifice of virginity in connection with the mysteries of\nAphrodite, in which the other party to the rite was a stranger. Only\nthus can we satisfactorily explain the limitation of the practice to\nstated days, probably festivals of Aphrodite, and the phrase about\npaying the offerings to her for future chastity.\n\nThe money payment, whether large or small, was in the Byblian rite, as\nin the Babylonian and (if I interpret correctly) in the Cypriote\nrites, consecrated to the goddess. We may infer that the same was the\ncase wherever else the rite was performed. At Byblus it was the\nalternative to the consecration of the woman\u2019s hair.\nProstitution--that is, sexual intercourse for hire--is not a primitive\npractice. The appearance of prostitution in connection with religion\nmay be accounted for by the influence upon the religious practice of\nthe general practice of harlots. Analogy would suggest that\nintercourse other than conjugal or the satisfaction of the genuine\npassion of love demanded a monetary consideration. But when that\nintercourse was the performance of a religious duty the money was not\nkept as gain by the woman. It was not earned for herself, but devoted\nto the goddess. Where bands of \u201charlots\u201d were attached to a temple\ntheir earnings probably went to swell the temple funds out of which\nthey were supported.[274.1] It may accordingly be suggested that the\nhire was not an essential part of the rite, but merely an aftergrowth\nin the process of adapting an older custom to the changing manners and\nreligious ideas of a growing civilization.[274.2]\n\n{275}\n\nAssuming, therefore, that the rite was a sacrifice of virginity to\nwhich every woman was subjected, it would probably be performed either\non the attainment of puberty or as a preliminary to the marriage\nceremonies. But we gather from the historian\u2019s account of the sale of\nthe village maidens around Babylon that the auction followed almost\nimmediately after the attainment of puberty, or within (say) a year at\nthe furthest. The practice of most ancient nations, as of nearly all\nbarbarous and savage peoples, and indeed of many in a high stage of\ncivilization, would lead us to expect that marriage would be entered\ninto within a very short time of the bride\u2019s puberty. Sometimes\nmarriage even precedes puberty. Where, as more usual, it follows that\nepoch of life, the rites incident to puberty must first be completed.\nAmong such rites defloration is not infrequently found. In this\nrespect the Australian tribes are notorious. In the Boulia district of\nNorthern Queensland the girl is compelled to intercourse with a number\nof men.[275.1] Among the Dieri of South Australia a ceremony called\nWilpadrina is performed on the young women when they come to maturity,\nin which the elder men claim and exercise a right to them, and that in\nthe presence of the other women.[275.2] The Arunta and Ilpirra tribes\nin the centre of the continent perform a ceremony on every girl when\nshe arrives at a marriageable age, but before she has been taken over\nby the husband to whom she has been allotted. As part of that ceremony\na number of men have access to her in ritual order; and the\nintercourse {276} is often repeated the following day.[276.1]\nAnalogous proceedings are known in other parts of the world. The\ncentral tribes of New Ireland have a women\u2019s house in every village.\nWhen a girl attains puberty she withdraws into a small house, called\n_mbak_, built inside it. There it is said she has to remain for ten\nmonths, only going outside at night. During this period she is waited\nupon by the old women, and through their intervention every man who\nchooses has access to her. On leaving the _mbak_ she belongs only to\nthe husband to whom she has probably been betrothed since\ninfancy.[276.2] In the west of the island of Serang between Celebes\nand New Guinea, a girl after ceremonial bathing goes round clothed\nwith a sarong woven of the fibre of the _Pandanus repens_, at the\nservice of every man until her family have collected the necessary\nmaterials for a feast. In certain districts, however, before actual\npuberty the teeth are filed. When this operation is completed, a feast\nis prepared of which the novice must taste everything. Further, an\nearthen pot filled with spring-water is covered with a fresh\npisang-leaf. One of the old women then taking the index-finger of the\ngirl\u2019s right hand thrusts it through the leaf as \u201ca symbol of the\nrupture of the hymen, or to show that the possession of virginity\nmeans nothing for her.\u201d The leaf is then displayed on the ridge of the\nroof. This done, the women fall to eating and drinking. When they have\nfinished they begin singing to the accompaniment of drums. The men are\nthen admitted to the house. In some villages the old men have free\naccess that evening to the room of the girl in whose honour the feast\nis given, while the other guests amuse themselves with {277} singing\noutside. After this celebration the girl is entitled to free\nintercourse with men, even before puberty.[277.1] In East-Central\nAfrica the Azimba maiden is artificially deflowered during a period of\nretirement and instruction in the forest. When the retirement is over\nshe celebrates her attainment of puberty by a dance in which only\nwomen take part. That night a man, hired by her father for the\npurpose, sleeps with her, and once this is done she is supposed to\nhave no further intercourse with him. Often, however, she is already\nmarried before puberty, and consequently no longer a maiden. None the\nless is she taken from her husband that the puberty customs may be\nperformed. When she is brought back he himself sleeps with her\napparently as a ritual act, without the necessity of hiring a man for\nthe purpose.[277.2] Among the Wanyasa, or Mang\u2019anja, at the southern\nend of Lake Nyasa, ceremonies are performed similar to those of the\n_Intonjane_ (girls\u2019 puberty ceremonies) of South Africa, and every\ngirl on her return after the initiation must find some man \u201cto be with\nher,\u201d otherwise she will die.[277.3] The _Intonjane_ among the\nKaffirs is well known to be an occasion of sexual indulgence. It may\nbe surmised that the ceremonies of the Suahili on the east coast were\noriginally similar to those just mentioned. But the Suahili have\nbecome partially Arabized, though their Mohammedanism is little more\nthan a veneer over their heathen customs and belief. Among them now a\ngirl returns from her seclusion in silence and gives her hand to every\nman she meets, receiving from him in return a few small coins.[277.4]\nIt is said that the girls of {278} the Wamegi, also a tribe near the\ncoast, are artificially deflowered at puberty by certain old\nwomen.[278.1] Artificial defloration at puberty is also practised by\nthe Sawu Islanders. The Sakalava girls in Madagascar perform it on\nthemselves in case their parents have not previously taken the\ntrouble.[278.2] Other examples could be cited, but the subject need\nnot be pursued.\n\nI would venture to suggest then that the Babylonian rite was a puberty\nrite, and that a maiden was not admitted to the status and privileges\nof adult life until she had thus been ceremonially deflowered. Among\nthose privileges, and the chief of them, was the gratification of the\nsexual instinct. It was, therefore, a prerequisite to marriage.\nCeremonial defloration of the bride by others than her husband has\nprevailed in many places. When marriage follows closely after puberty\nit is difficult to determine whether the custom really belongs to the\npuberty rites, or to those of marriage. I am not concerned here to\ndeny that among many peoples who practise it as part of the marriage\nrites it may have been such _ab initio_. The determination of this\nquestion would involve an examination of marriage customs extending\nfar beyond the space at my disposal. But it will be admitted that as\npuberty rites gradually {279} became simplified or altogether obsolete\nsuch a custom could only maintain existence as part of the marriage\nrites. It is then usually (but, as we shall see, not always) performed\nby one or more of the bridegroom\u2019s friends or by an appointed\nofficial, and ultimately degenerates into the _jus prim\u00e6 noctis_\nvested in some powerful personage, as a lord or priest. Nothing of the\nsort appears in the accounts which have come down to us of the ancient\nrite in Western Asia. In all of them (save among the Lydians) emphasis\nis laid on the performance by a stranger. At Babylon our information\ndoes not connect the rite with marriage at all. Elsewhere it is\nreferred to not as part of the marriage rites, but as a preliminary to\nmarriage.\n\nThat such a rite should be found annexed to the temple and worship of\na luxurious goddess causes no surprise; on the contrary, it is what\nmight have been anticipated. Every reader will call to mind numerous\nexamples of archaic rites which have become attached to Christian\nfestivals, and of Christian shrines which are simply shrines of an\nearlier religion adapted and consecrated afresh under Christian names.\nThe difficulty of uprooting old customs, and their consequent\nincorporation and adaptation by advancing culture or a new religion,\nare phenomena too well known to be insisted on here. Probably the\nCypriote mysteries were adapted to the worship of Aphrodite from a\nruder stage in which no divinity was invoked. And if this could happen\nonce in Western Asia, it might have happened also at Babylon, at\nHeliopolis and elsewhere. It is possible that other practices, such as\nthe prostitution of the Armenian girls at the temple of Anaitis, or\nthat of the Lydian and Paphian girls to earn their dowries, are no\nmore than the adaptation of a custom common enough in the lower {280}\nbarbarism, by which unmarried girls have unfettered liberty in their\nsexual relations. The Armenian maidens, at all events, though spoken\nof as harlots by Strabo, do not seem to have exercised their calling\nfor money, nor to have admitted indiscriminately to their favours all\nwho offered. They reserved themselves for their equals in rank, and\nentertained them in their dwellings with more hospitality than in a\nspinsters\u2019 house in the Pacific Islands. The surmise may be indulged\nthat it was in fact originally, if not in later times, their way of\nchoosing husbands. The Lydian girls are expressly said to have\nbestowed themselves in marriage.\n\nMannhardt contended (and his opinion is so far endorsed by Dr Frazer)\nthat the maidens who surrendered their virginity in connection with\nthe cult of a goddess like Aphrodite did so in imitation of their\ndivinity, as her representatives, the human players of her\npart.[280.1] This may have been the mode by which the ancient custom\nwas adapted to the newer order of things. But it is submitted that it\nis a very insufficient account of it. The custom must have been older\nthan any definite belief in the goddess\u2019s habits or any story of her\nvarious intrigues. Are we then to suppose that it was a magical rite\ndesigned to promote the fertility of animal and vegetable life? Such\nrites are known in both hemispheres. The great goddess worshipped\nunder different names throughout Western Asia personified, we may\nconcede, the reproductive energies of Nature. Many of the rites\nemployed in her cult are in the last analysis magical, and had for\ntheir purpose to assist those energies. By a well-known mental process\nmagical efficacy is often ascribed to acts and usages not essentially\nof a magical, nor indeed of a {281} ritual, character. Thus the\ngeneral prostitution of young girls to earn their dowries, and that of\nwidows--customs which are probably of quite a different origin--are\namong certain tribes of Morocco held to be not without their effect on\nthe abundance of the crops.[281.1] Such a belief may have consecrated\nlives of habitual harlotry in Armenia, in Lydia, and in Cyprus. It by\nno means follows that every rite performed in the name of the goddess\nacquired that meaning, still less that that was its primitive meaning.\nMany such rites would be wholly personal. They would be intended to\nsecure personal blessings to the worshipper, and nothing more, though\neveryone might have been required to perform them. It is needless to\nsuppose without express evidence that the rite described by Herodotus\nas taking place at the temple of Mylitta had more than a personal\nreference. The most obvious personal blessing to be secured from such\na goddess would be fertility. It is possible that this was the\nintention here. Puberty customs are doubtless performed for the good\nof the individual, and of the tribe or nationality through the\nindividual. We must not infer, however, that the personal blessing of\nfertility was held to be the natural and direct outcome of the\nsacrifice of virginity. That was not the way in which it would be\nenvisaged, however logical such an outcome may seem to us. The savage\nwould not expect the natural result, but one that we call magical. At\nthe stage represented by the Babylonian custom the blessing was\ninvoked from the goddess, and was her gift. In other words, it was not\nthat specific ritual act of coition, but future acts rendered licit\nand consecrated by it which were expected to bear fruit. {282} This\ninterpretation is perhaps strengthened by a rite said to have been\nregularly performed in the Troad. \u201cEvery maiden on the approach of her\nmarriage was required to go and bathe in the Skamandros, and standing\nin the water to pronounce the sacred formula: \u2018Skamandros, take my\nmaidenhood as a gift.\u2019\u201d Dr Farnell, citing the fictitious letter of\nAischines on which the evidence for the custom rests, observes: \u201cThe\nletter narrates how a mortal assumed the human form of the god and\ntook a treacherous advantage; but originally, we may suppose, the rite\nof consecration was not associated with any anthropomorphic divinity,\nbut was performed in the hope that the spirit of the river might enter\ninto the maiden, and that the child she might afterwards bear to her\nwedded husband might thus be mystically akin to the guardian of the\nland. The many early myths concerning heroines and princesses being\nmade pregnant by river-gods suggest that the ritual just described was\nonce prevalent in primitive Greece; for such myths could arise\nnaturally from such a custom.\u201d[282.1] But the ritual itself suggests\nthat it is a relic of a still older rite parallel with the rite at the\ntemple of Mylitta.\n\nThe last of the problems connected with the rite is to explain why it\nmust be accomplished with a stranger. If, as has been alleged, the act\nof defloration of a maiden were held to be in itself dangerous, it is\nnot easy to say why anyone, even a stranger, should undertake it,\nunless he were strangely ignorant of the risk or strangely careless.\nIn some places, indeed, a maiden who had come to submit to the rite\nmay have been outwardly indistinguishable from one of the _hierai_;\nand hence the man may have been unconscious {283} of his risk, or may\nhave been willing to undertake a risk thus diminished. But at Babylon\nthe women who came thus to offer themselves wore a distinctive\nhead-dress of cords, the emblem, perhaps, of their condition of\nvirginity. Moreover, they seem to have been penned in enclosures\ndivided from each other by ropes, which were broken to let them out\nfor the accomplishment of the rite. There was therefore no mistake as\nto their status or object.[283.1] On the other hand, if the\ndefloration simply involved ritual impurity such as could be removed\nby the proper ceremonies, it must be asked why the task was left to a\nstranger. None of our ancient authorities have condescended to define\na stranger. We are probably to understand by that term one who was not\nan inhabitant of the town or who was not a member of the community.\nThe analogy of certain Australian rites already referred to, and of\nrites of marriage in some other parts of the world, would lead us to\nsuppose that what was really intended in the first instance was one\nwho was not eligible for sexual relations with the woman in the\nordinary course. Thus in Peru and New Granada \u201cthe nearest relations\nof the bride and her most intimate friends\u201d are said to have performed\nthe corresponding rite[283.2]; and even her father is credited {284}\nwith the labour among the Orang-Sakai of the Malay Peninsula, the\nBattas of Sumatra, the Alfoers of Celebes, and on the Island of Ceylon\nand the eastern Moluccas.[284.1] From this the more developed\nmorality of the Babylonians would recoil. Mr Crawley, commenting on\nthe Australian rite, surmises that in it \u201cinitiation\u201d and marriage are\none, and that \u201cinitiation\u201d ceremonies (that is to say, puberty\nceremonies) \u201cof this kind are marriages to the other sex in\nabstract.\u201d[284.2] The surmise follows from his theory of the danger\nof human contact, and especially of marriage, and the importance of\nceremonies to avert the peril. The theory itself--at all events pushed\nto the length to which Mr Crawley pushes it--is very questionable. But\ndefloration at puberty, whether natural or artificial, is undoubtedly\n(whatever else it may be) a formal introduction to sexual life. Such\nintroduction might be the more authoritative and emphatic if given by\none (or more) with whom sexual relations would not in future be\nsustained. It is a ritual act. Ritual acts are acts out of the\nordinary course--often clean contrary to the ordinary course. Therein\nconsists their essence, their virtue. But in the growth of\ncivilization, with the emergence of a new religion or different\ncustoms, the real meaning of a traditional rite is obscured, the rite\nitself becomes decadent, and a new meaning is assigned to it. Hence a\npuberty rite might easily become part of the cult of a goddess like\nMylitta.\n\nMoreover, at the stage of decay which the rite had reached at Babylon\nand elsewhere in Western Asia, the proviso that the person with whom\nthe act was performed must be a stranger might be intended to prevent\nan {285} assignation. When the act had to be performed as a sacrifice\nin honour of the goddess it might be regarded as a profanation to\nperform it as an act of inclination with a favoured lover. The best\nway to prevent this would be to require that it should be performed\nwith a chance stranger, who might further be looked upon, if\nMannhardt\u2019s interpretation be correct, as a representative sent by the\ngoddess to play Adonis to the maiden\u2019s Aphrodite. The rite at Byblus\nlends countenance to this conjecture. It is supported also by the\nartificial defloration enacted only in symbol by Roman brides, but in\ngrim earnest at the temples of Siva by brides in Southern India.\n\nBut we are able to carry the conjecture a step beyond this. Here I am\nglad to avail myself of the criticism of Professor Westermarck, who\nhas pointed out that a semi-supernatural character is very generally\nascribed to strangers, and that intercourse with a stranger would thus\nbe productive of blessings--especially the blessing of fertility--to\nthe woman.[285.1] From the large collections on the subject of\nrelations with strangers brought together by Professor Frazer and\nProfessor Westermarck himself it results that a stranger is regarded\nas uncanny. He is a being possessed of unknown powers for good or ill.\nHis _orenda_, as we have seen, is incalculable.[285.2] He must\ntherefore be either repulsed at once as a foe or received and treated\nwith extraordinary respect. The former course is not usually adopted\nunless the strangers come in force or there are other circumstances\nthat suggest hostile intent. The latter course has given birth to laws\nof hospitality recognized all over the world, however the exact\nprocedure may differ among different peoples. {286} But even in this\ncase the stranger is looked upon with suspicion until he has undergone\nwhat M. van Gennep calls rites of aggregation to the group or society\nto which he has come. These rites may be of the most simple character,\nsuch as spitting upon his host or drinking a cup of water or coffee\nfrom his host\u2019s hand; or they may involve a trial of strength, an\nexchange of gifts, the offering of sacrifices or entry into a\nblood-covenant.[286.1]\n\nThe uncanny character thus attributed to a stranger includes not\nmerely the possession of magical powers. In a society where everyone,\nor at least a large and unknown number of persons, is believed to be\nendowed more or less with magical powers, this is a matter of course.\nBut a halo of still more mysterious possibility encircles a stranger:\nhe may be a superhuman Power, a dead man, or even a god. Hence arise\nthe numerous stories, many of which have been collected by Mr Gerould\nin his monograph on _The Grateful Dead_, published by the Folk-Lore\nSociety in 1908. These stories usually represent the stranger as a\ndead man to whom the hero has rendered some service, such as that of\nburying his corpse. But perhaps the best known, and among the most\nancient is that found in the book of Tobit, where the stranger is the\nangel Raphael. A tale even older and more widespread is preserved\namong the Hebrew traditions as that of Lot and the two angels who\nvisited him in Sodom. Probably it was part of the common Semitic\nstock, and as such would have been known at Babylon. Substantially the\nsame story is that of Baucis and Philemon reported by Ovid; and the\ntale of Demeter\u2019s wanderings and many another in Greek legend rest on\na common basis of belief. Continental folklore down to modern days\n{287} identifies the unknown beggar as Jesus Christ Himself or, if a\nwoman, his Mother. The Bantu of South-West Africa tell of the great\ngoddess Nzambi who begs in disguise for a little palm-wine to slake\nthe thirst of her child. Refusal is followed in the night by\npunishment; the smiling valley, like that of Sodom, is covered by the\nwaters of a lake; and the only person saved is he who had taken\ncompassion and granted the poor old mendicant\u2019s request.[287.1] Lest\nthis be thought a tale imported from Europe, let me add that in Annam\na similar tale is told to account for three lakes in the province of\nThay Nguyen. There a beggar-woman is repulsed by all save an old widow\nand her son, who give of their poverty food and a night\u2019s lodging to\nthe miserable and unattractive creature. She turns out to be a\nsupernatural personage. She has come down to test the hearts of the\ndevotees who have flocked to a great religious festival periodically\nheld in the place. The hypocrites who repulsed her are all overwhelmed\nin a deluge of waters; only the widow and her son are saved.[287.2]\n\nTo labour the proof is unnecessary. It is abundantly clear that a\nstranger may be far more than mortal, and that this possibility has\ndeeply affected the evolution of hospitality. The stranger must be\nconciliated. He must be bound by sacred ties to the host--ties which\nhe cannot break so long as he remains under the host\u2019s protection.\nAmong the rites of aggregation--the rites effecting this union--M. van\nGennep reckons the use of the women frequently accorded to visitors in\nthe lower culture; and he suggests that the rite at the temple of\nMylitta was such a rite of aggregation. It may have been so. It may\nhave been expected of all masculine strangers at Babylon to unite\nthemselves with the natives by means {288} of this homage to the\ngoddess. All that can be said is that Herodotus gives no hint of it.\nAccording to him it was only on the women that the duty lay--and that\nno more than once in their lives--of submitting to the rite. The\nmystery attaching to a stranger and involving the expectation of\ndivine blessing is a sufficient reason for the performance of the rite\nwith one who might be a god in person, and in any event must have been\nheld to be divinely sent; for chance is the servant of the gods.\nThence it is but a step (and the step was taken elsewhere, if not at\nBabylon) to the substitution of the priest for the stranger or the\ngod; and the way is opened to the abuses of the _jus prim\u00e6\nnoctis_.[288.1]\n\nBefore dismissing the subject reference may be made to Professor\nCumont\u2019s note on the subject of religious prostitution in _Les\nReligions Orientales dans le Paganisme Romain_ (Paris, 1907), pp. 143,\n286, as showing the facility with which a learned and highly\ndistinguished scholar may fail to appreciate the complexity of the\nproblem. He makes no distinction between the three customs of\nsacrifice of virginity, prostitution to earn a dowry, and a life of\nreligious prostitution in the service of the goddess. He refers them\nall to the primitive constitution of the Semitic tribe, and explains\nthem as a modified form, become utilitarian, of an ancient exogamy.\nMating with a virgin, he holds, resulted in defilement; therefore she\nwas given first to a stranger; only after that could she be married to\na man of her own race. I pass by the confusion between the three\ncustoms in question, to all of which his explanation will not equally\n{289} apply. But if the explanation be correct for any of them, either\nthe ancient exogamy of the Semites must have been quite different from\nexogamy as generally understood, or it must have been not merely\nmodified but transformed. Exogamy, as generally understood, has\nnothing to do with race or nationality. It is simply the savage rule\ncorresponding to our table of prohibited degrees.[289.1] A man may\nnot marry or have sexual relations with one who is akin to him; every\nmember of his clan (not of his tribe or his race) is akin to him;\ntherefore, he cannot marry or have sexual relations with any member of\nhis clan. The origin of this rule is still disputed by\nanthropologists, and we need not here discuss it. But since exogamy\nbars a man from sexual relations with every member of his kin, it is\nobvious that it cannot be merely a preliminary to marriage within the\nkin. Where exogamy is the law, the bar is absolute; it is the law for\nthe whole of life; it is not intended to provide for a temporary union\noutside the kin in order to prepare the way for a permanent union\nwithin the kin. Exogamy, therefore, I submit, cannot explain these\ncustoms.\n\n\n\n\n THE VOICE OF THE STONE OF\n DESTINY\n\n{290}\n\nIn the following pages I propose to consider some of the auguries\nwhich have been deemed necessary to the choice of a king. Kingship is\nnot found in the most archaic forms of society known to us. But where\nthe community is organized on the basis of monarchy the king tends to\nbe regarded as something more than ordinary humanity. He has powers\nand privileges denied to other mortals. These very powers and\nprivileges and the sanctity of which they are the appanage entail,\nhowever, taboos and penalties of the most burdensome description.\nProfessor Frazer has abundantly illustrated this side of royalty, and\nhas also fully discussed some of the means whereby pretensions to the\nthrone are enforced. But there remain others witnessing not less than\nthose he has described to the extraordinary position of a king. Some\nof these and their echoes in folk-tale and romance will repay a little\nattention.\n\nThe famous Coronation Stone has an authentic history of six hundred\nyears. At the time of the conquest of Scotland by Edward I., it was\nthe stone on which the kings of the Scots were, according to\nimmemorial custom, installed. Regarded by the Scots as sacred, it was\ntherefore removed by Edward\u2019s order from Scone, where it stood, to\nWestminster, and was enclosed in what is now, {291} and has been ever\nsince, the Coronation Chair. Its earlier history, as distinguished\nfrom conjecture and legend, goes no further back than the middle of\nthe thirteenth century, or something less than half a century before\nits removal to Westminster, when it is recorded by Fordun that\nAlexander III. was solemnly placed upon it and hallowed to king by the\nBishop of St. Andrews (1249). But what is wanting in authentic history\nhas been abundantly made up in legend. The tale, of which there are\ntwo versions, is the creation of a literary age. The Irish version\nbrings it, with the Tuatha D\u00e9 Danann, from Lochlann, or Scandinavia,\nto Ireland. The Scottish version traces it on the other hand from\nEgypt, whence it was carried by the Milesians. This was improved upon,\nto the extent of identifying the stone with that used by Jacob as a\npillow on his journey from Beersheba to Haran. The attempt was thus\nmade, by connecting the ruling race in Scotland with the legends of\nthe Hebrew patriarchs, to confer upon the stone the united sanctity of\nreligion, of antiquity, and of patriotism.\n\nIn the course of its wanderings the stone is said to have reached\nTara; and it is declared to be the famous _Lia F\u00e1il_, or Stone of\nDestiny, one of the two wonders of Tara celebrated in Irish sagas. We\nare indebted to the _Book of Lismore_, a fifteenth-century manuscript,\nfor an enumeration of the wonderful properties of the _Lia F\u00e1il_. The\nColloquy with the Ancients, which is comprised in this precious\nmanuscript, records a number of Irish traditions, some of which would\nelse in all probability have perished beyond recovery. There we\nlearn--the account is put into the mouth of no less a personage than\nOssian himself--that \u201cAnyone of all Ireland on whom an _ex parte_\nimputation rested was set upon that stone: {292} then if the truth\nwere in him he would turn pink and white; but if otherwise, it was a\nblack spot that in some conspicuous place would appear on him.\nFurther, when Ireland\u2019s monarch stepped on to it the stone would cry\nout under him, and her three arch-waves would boom in answer: as the\nwave of Cleena, the wave of Ballintoy, and the wave of Loch Rury; when\na provincial king went on it the flag would rumble under him; when a\nbarren woman trod it, it was a dew of dusky blood that broke out on\nit; when one that would bear children tried it, it was a \u2018nursing\ndrop\u2019\u201d--that is, says Mr Standish O\u2019Grady, from whose translation I\nquote, semblance of milk--\u201cthat it sweated.\u201d[292.1] The Colloquy is\nimperfect, the legible portion of the manuscript ceasing a line or two\nfurther on, just as we are about to be told how it was that the stone\nleft Ireland.[292.2] Its subsequent adventures are related by\nKeating, who says that it was sent to Feargus the Great, \u201cto sit upon,\nfor the purpose of being proclaimed king of Scotland.\u201d However, it is\nnot to the adventures of the stone, but to its properties that I wish\nnow to direct attention. With regard to the former, all that I need\nadd is that the legend has been subjected by Skene, and more recently\nby Mr P. J. O\u2019Reilly, to an exhaustive analysis, which renders it\nclear that there is no trustworthy evidence that the stone of Tara is\nthe Coronation Stone. The antecedent improbability is great; and even\nif it were indisputable that the stone in question was no longer at\nTara in the eleventh century, the chasm between that period and\nFergus, whose very existence only rested on legend, {293} would still\nhave to be bridged, and the variants of the story would need to be\nreconciled.[293.1]\n\nThe properties of the stone of Tara were oracular; and the stone\nitself was one of a large class of stones endowed in popular opinion\nwith divining powers, and actually resorted to for the purpose of\nenquiry. When the reputation of an oracle is once established, it is\nconsulted for many purposes. Not only political, but juridical and\ndomestic purposes are enumerated by the author of the Colloquy in\nregard to the _Lia F\u00e1il_. Among these functions is the recognition of\nthe monarch. The phrase used in the Colloquy is ambiguous. It is not\nstated why, or on what occasion, the stone was expected to make its\nvoice heard. In practice the only object of obtaining such a\nrecognition would be that of determining the succession to the throne.\nKeating supplies the missing explanation. \u201cIt was a stone,\u201d he says,\n\u201con which were enchantments, for it used to roar under the person who\nhad the best right to obtain the sovereignty of Ireland at the time of\nthe men of Ireland being in assembly at Tara to choose a king over\nthem.\u201d[293.2] Whether as a matter of fact the stone ever was\nconsulted with this object is another question. It is enough at {294}\npresent to know that Irish tradition asserted this use of the oracle.\nIn a semi-civilized community a disputed succession is of frequent\noccurrence. To prevent a dispute, and to settle it when it arises,\nvarious means are adopted. The usual Irish plan seems to have been the\ncustom of Tanistry. \u201cDuring the lifetime of a chief,\u201d Sullivan tells\nus, \u201chis successor was elected under the name of _Tanaiste_; and on\nthe death of the former the latter succeeded him. The _Tanaiste_ was\nnot necessarily the son of the chief: he might be his brother or\nnephew; but he should belong to his _Fine_,\u201d or family.[294.1]\n\nThat this mode of election was not always successful we may easily\nbelieve. That it was the gradual outcome of the experience of a long\nseries of generations is probable. Where for one cause or another it\nfailed, how would the succession be determined? The most obvious means\nwould be either conflict or divination. According to the legends,\ndivination was sometimes actually used to determine the appointment of\nking. On one occasion in the days of Conchobar, the famous King of\nUlster, the monarchy of Ireland had been vacant for seven years. This\nstate of things being found intolerable, a general assembly was held\nat Tara to choose a king. The royal houses of Connaught, South\nMunster, North Munster, and Leinster were there, but the Ulstermen\nwere absent; for there was bitter feud between Ulster and the rest of\nIreland, and they would not hold kingly counsel together. The mode of\nelection adopted was divination by means of a dream induced by certain\nceremonies. The ceremonies began with a bull-feast. A bull was killed,\nand a man was gorged with its flesh and {295} broth. We are told \u201che\nslept under that meal.\u201d It is not incredible. Then \u201ca true oration,\u201d\nwhich I understand to mean an incantation, was pronounced over him by\nfour Druids. He dreamed, and screamed out of his sleep, and related to\nthe assembled kings that he had seen in his dream \u201ca soft youth,\nnoble, and powerfully made, with two red stripes on his skin around\nhis body, and he standing at the pillow of a man who was lying in a\ndecline at Emain Macha,\u201d the royal palace of Ulster. Messengers were\naccordingly sent thither, and the description was found to correspond\nwith that of Lugaidh Reo-derg, the pupil of Cuchulainn, who was then\nlying ill. Lugaidh was brought to Tara, recognized as the subject of\nthe vision, and proclaimed as monarch of Ireland.[295.1]\n\nThis is not the only instance in Irish legend of election to the\nthrone by _incubatio_, or divination by means of a dream. Conaire,\nwhose tale is filled with incidents explicable only by the comparative\nstudies of ethnologists, was thus elected. Though really begotten by a\nsupernatural bird-man, he was regarded as the son of his predecessor,\nEtersc\u00e9le. But this does not seem to have given him any title to\nsucceed. A bull-feast was accordingly given; and the bull-feaster in\nhis sleep at the end of the night beheld a man stark-naked, passing\nalong the road of Tara with a stone in his sling. Warned and\ncounselled by his bird-relatives, Conaire fulfilled these\nrequirements. He found three kings (doubtless of the under-kings of\nIreland) awaiting him, with royal raiment to clothe his nakedness, and\na chariot to convey him to Tara. It was a disappointment to the folk\nof Tara to {296} find that their bull-feast and their spell of truth\nchanted over the feaster had resulted in the selection of a beardless\nlad. But he convinced them that he was the true successor, and was\nadmitted to the kingship.[296.1]\n\nA traditional story is not a record of fact. It is a record only of\nwhat is believed. Probably both Lugaidh Reo-derg and Conaire are\nmythical personages, but their stories certainly embody what was\nthought to be possible. The description of the election by divination\nis substantially the same in both. It may therefore be taken, if not\nas approximately correct, at least as showing that election by\ndivination was regarded among the ancient Irish as in the last resort\na reasonable and proper manner of ascertaining and appointing a king.\nIn this the Irish were by no means singular. The traditions of other\nnations point to the same result, and the customs in various parts of\nthe world confirm it. The incident of election by divination is so\npicturesque and so suitable for the purposes of a story-teller that it\nis to be expected far more often in a tale than in real life. But that\nthe story-incident is based on actual practice, I think there is\nsufficient ground for believing.\n\nWe will first shortly review a few stories of election by divination.\nThe Saxons of Transylvania tell of a peasant who had three sons, of\nwhom the youngest was despised by the others because he was weak and\nsmall while they were tall and strong. In that kingdom God Himself\nchose the king from time to time. The mode of ascertaining the divine\nwill was to call a general assembly of the people on the king\u2019s meadow\nin the largest commune of the country, and there to lay the crown at a\ncertain hour on a hillock or mound. All the bells in the {297} town\npealed forth together; and the crown slowly raised itself in the air,\nfloated round over the heads of the assembly, and finally alighted on\nthat of the destined sovereign. The two elder brothers made ready to\nattend the ceremony, but bade the youngest remain at home in the\nashes, where his place was. However, he slipped out after them, and,\nfor fear they would see him, crept into a pigsty that stood at the end\nof the town abutting on the meadow. The crown, passing over all the\npeople present, sank down upon the pigsty. Surprised and curious to\nknow what this strange proceeding meant, the people ran to the pigsty,\nthere found the trembling boy, and drawing him forth bowed the knee\nand saluted him as the new king, called by God to occupy the\nthrone.[297.1]\n\nIn this Transylvanian _m\u00e4rchen_ the crown is the instrument of\ndivination. Going next to the dim and distant East we find other\nemblems of royalty thus represented. In the _J\u0101taka_, the great book\nof Buddhist Birth-stories, the supposititious child of a merchant\u2019s\nwife of Maghada is the hero of a similar adventure. He is, however, no\nordinary child but the Bodhisatta, the future Buddha in an earlier\nbirth. He was called Banyan, from having been found under a banyan\ntree, where his own mother had forsaken him at his birth. Travelling\nwith two faithful companions who had been born on the same day as\nhimself, he came to Benares, and entering the royal park lay down upon\na slab of stone with his two companions beside it. The previous night\nthey had slept in the city under a tree at a temple. One of the youths\nhad awakened at dawn and heard some cocks quarrelling in the branches.\nHe listened, and learnt that whoever killed a certain one of these\nbirds and ate of his fat would become king that very day, he who ate\nthe middle flesh {298} would become commander-in-chief, and he who ate\nthe flesh about the bones would become treasurer. He killed the bird,\ngave the fat to Banyan, the middle flesh to his other friend, and\ngnawed the bones himself. Now the king of Benares was dead, and that\nday the festal car was going forth with the five symbols of royalty,\nthe sword, the parasol, the diadem, the slippers, and the fan, within\nit, to choose the king\u2019s successor. As the three youths lay in the\nroyal park, the ceremonial chariot rolled up and stopped before them.\nThe chaplain (presumably a Brahman) followed. Removing the cloth from\nBanyan\u2019s feet he examined the marks upon them. \u201cWhy!\u201d he exclaimed,\n\u201che is destined to be king of all India, let alone Benares!\u201d and he\nordered the gongs and the cymbals to strike up. This awoke Banyan, who\nsat up. The chaplain fell down before him, saying: \u201cDivine being, the\nkingdom is thine.\u201d \u201cSo be it,\u201d quietly answered the youth; the\nchaplain placed him upon the heap of precious jewels and sprinkled him\nto be king.[298.1]\n\nIn a Calmuck tale the instrument of divination is not one of the royal\ninsignia, but a sacrificial cake. An assembly of the people is held to\nchoose a new khan; and it is decided to appeal to the judgement of\nheaven by throwing a sacrificial cake, called _Baling_, apparently a\nfigure of dough, into the air, at the time of the sacrifice\n(_Streuopfer_). On whosesoever head the cake fell, he should be\nkhan.[298.2]\n\nA tale of the Teleut Tartars tells of a father who was enraged with\nhis son because he interpreted the cry of some birds, declaring that\nthey foretold that he himself would become emperor, and his father\nwould drink his urine. The father, in his anger, struck off his son\u2019s\nhead. {299} He then killed his horse, skinned it, rolled his son\u2019s\nbody in the hide and flung it into the sea. The waves carried the\npackage to a village, where an old woman found it. She opened the\nleather, and the youth came out alive. The prince of that land had\ndied, leaving no son. His subjects took two golden posts, and fastened\non their tops two tapers. They then set up the posts in the middle of\nthe village. Everyone was required to jump through them, and the\ntapers would fall on him who was to be the prince. But they\nobstinately remained standing until the destined youth came, when they\nboth fell on his neck and burst into flame. If he had not become an\nemperor, at least he was now a prince: and with that variation, the\nwhole of the bird\u2019s prophecy was in due course fulfilled.[299.1] But\nwe need not follow it further. The hero of a Balochi tale likewise\nfalls under his father\u2019s displeasure. His father was a king, and the\nson took advantage of his royalty to break the crockery of his\nfather\u2019s subjects. When the people complained, his father drove him\naway. In the course of his wanderings, he came to a town where the\nking had just died. The palace door was shut, and upon it was written:\n\u201cHe whose hand shall open this door, shall be king of this city.\u201d The\nwandering prince, reading this, said: \u201cBismillah.\u201d He pushed the door:\nit opened. He entered, seated himself on the throne, and became\nking.[299.2]\n\nThe _Kah-gyur_, a sacred work of Tibetan Buddhism dating back to the\neleventh century or thereabouts, contains a story of king \u00c1nanda. The\nname \u00c1nanda is famous in the literature of Buddhism as that of a\nfavourite disciple of the master; but it is here used in the\nindiscriminate way in which the medi\u00e6val friars used {300} the names\nof Pompey, Titus, Pliny, and other famous Romans, in the _Gesta\nRomanorum_. This king had five sons, of whom the youngest was endowed\nwith qualities better suited to a ruler than the others, and to whom\naccordingly he desired to leave the kingdom. But he feared that if he\ninvested his youngest son with sovereign power, his kinsmen would\nreproach him for having passed over his elder sons. As a way of escape\nfrom the difficulty he decreed that after his death his sons should be\ntested, and that he should be made king whom the jewel-shoes should\nfit, under whom the throne should remain steadfast, and on whose head\nthe diadem should rest unshaken, whom the women should recognize, and\nwho should guess six objects to be divined by insight.[300.1] There\nis a triple test here--divination by the royal insignia, the choice of\nthe harem, and the solution of a riddle. I shall return to the two\nformer tests. But before passing to another type of story I may note\nthat in the _Bakhty\u00e1r-N\u00e1ma_, a Persian romance translated by Sir\nWilliam Ouseley, who brought it from the East in the early part of the\nlast century, there is a story in which the succession to the throne\nis made to depend upon the solution of three riddles. The king having\ndied without issue, it was resolved to go to the prison and propound\nthree questions to the criminals confined there. He who answered best\nwas recognized as king.[300.2] Riddles are regarded in certain stages\nof civilization as a test of more than ordinary wisdom. Their position\nin the evolution of thought and custom is well worth investigation. It\nis too large a subject for discussion here.\n\nOccasionally the instrument of divination is wholly wanting, and the\nfirst man met with is taken for king. {301} Among a tribe in Morocco\nis told a tale of which the hero is made king, because he is the first\nman found outside the city-gate when it is opened in the\nmorning.[301.1] Another of these stories is that of Ali Shar and\nZumurrud in the _Arabian Nights_. Ali Shar was a prodigal, and\nZumurrud was his favourite female slave. By a series of diverting\nadventures which do not concern us, they are separated. After much\nsuffering, Zumurrud contrives to possess herself of a man\u2019s clothes,\nhorse and sword. In the course of her wanderings she draws nigh to a\ncity-gate, where she finds the emirs and nobles with the troops drawn\nup and waiting, as Conaire found the three kings waiting on the way to\nTara. The soldiery, on seeing her, dash forward. They dismount and\nprostrate themselves before her, saluting her as lord and sultan. On\nenquiry she learns that the sultan of the city is dead; and on such\noccasions it is the custom that the troops sally forth to the suburbs,\nthere to sojourn for three days. Whoever comes during that time from\nthe quarter whence she has come is made king. Being a lady of\nresource, she accepts the position, administers the kingdom with\nefficiency, and ultimately finds means to avenge herself on her\nenemies and to be reunited with her master, Ali Shar.[301.2] An\nIndian folk-tale relates that in a certain city \u201cit was the custom\nthat when the r\u00e1ja died the nobles of the kingdom used to take their\nseats at the gate of the city, and the first man who appeared before\nthem they made their r\u00e1ja.\u201d[301.3]\n\nThe same tale is told by the Taranchi Tartars, an {302} agricultural\npeople who are now settled in the valley of the Ili, a large river\nflowing into Lake Balkash, in Central Asia. But it is told with this\ndifference. When the hero draws nigh to the gate of the city, all the\npeople cry out \u201cCuckoo, cuckoo!\u201d On enquiring why they do this, they\nreply: \u201cOur ruler has been dead for three days. He had a magical bird,\nwhich has been let fly, and on whosesoever head the bird settles, him\nwe raise to be our prince.\u201d Here the augury is drawn from a\nbird.[302.1]\n\nIn another Tartar _m\u00e4rchen_, this time from the west of Siberia, the\nruler of the town has grown old, and is desirous of retiring. He has a\nbird which is let fly and chooses a woman. She is immediately accepted\nas prince and installed in the place of the old man.[302.2] In a\nKurdish _m\u00e4rchen_ a special bird called \u201cthe bird of dominion\u201d is\nfetched, it is not said whence, for the purpose of the\ndivination.[302.3]\n\nAn animal of some kind is, in fact, the agent in most of these tales.\nA Buddhist tale from Cambodia tells us that, the royal family having\nbecome extinct, it was the custom to ask the royal family of another\nkingdom to furnish a king. The council of mandarins determined to take\nthis course. Under the advice of an old astrologer horses were\nharnessed to the carriage--we must understand, no doubt, the royal\ncarriage--and then allowed to go in any direction they pleased,\nwithout a driver. This is described as consulting the horses. The\nfirst day the horses re-entered the palace. The next day they drew the\ncarriage in the direction of a neighbouring kingdom. Twice, thrice the\ncarriage was turned back; but the {303} horses persisted in drawing it\nagain in the same direction. It was accordingly decided to demand a\nprince from that kingdom.[303.1]\n\nIn the East, however, as might be expected, it is usually the royal\nanimal, the elephant, which thus confers the kingdom. I have already\ncited one great collection of Indian tales. There is another, only\nsecond to the _J\u0101taka_ in extent, the _Kath\u00e1 Sarit S\u00e1gara_, or\nOcean of the Streams of Story, translated a few years ago by Dr\nTawney. It contains a _m\u00e4rchen_, perhaps derived from that older and\nmore famous collection, the _Panchatantra_, of a man who retired with\nhis wife to the forest, to practise austerities. While there he\nrescued from the river a wretch whose hands and feet had been cut off,\nand who had been thrown by his enemies into the stream to die. His\nwife, probably sick of austerities, falls in love with the cripple\nthus rescued, and plots her husband\u2019s death. She succeeds in\nprecipitating him into the river; but instead of being drowned he is\nthrown on the bank near a city. \u201cNow it happened that at that time the\nking of that city had just died, and in that country there was an\nimmemorial custom, that an auspicious elephant was driven about by the\ncitizens, and any man that he took up with his trunk and placed on his\nback, was anointed king.\u201d The hero of the story, who is \u201can\nincarnation of a portion of a Bodhisattva,\u201d is of course chosen; and\nwhen he gets the chance he inflicts condign punishment on his\nwife.[303.2] The elephant is here described as \u201can auspicious\nelephant.\u201d Sometimes he is called the \u201ccrown-elephant,\u201d the special\nproperty and symbol of royalty. So in a Tamil story we learn that the\nking of {304} a certain city dying childless, on his death-bed called\nhis ministers together and directed them \u201cto send his crown-elephant\nwith a flower-wreath in his trunk, and to choose him on whom the\nelephant throws the garland, as his successor.\u201d[304.1] In a folk-tale\nfrom the far north of India it is \u201cthe sacred elephant\u201d before whom\nall the inhabitants are required to pass in file, and the animal is\nexpected to elect one of them to the vacant throne \u201cby kneeling down\nand saluting the favoured individual as he passed by, for in this\nmanner kings were elected in that country.\u201d[304.2] In a story which\nappears to come from Gujerat, the king dies without an heir, and the\nastrologers prophesy that his heir would be the first who entered the\ngates of the city on the morrow of the king\u2019s decease, and around\nwhose neck the sacred elephant would throw a garland of\nflowers.[304.3]\n\nAt other times the elephant alone does not make the choice. With him\nis conjoined some other animal or symbol of royalty. A tale from\nKashmir speaks of a land where, when the king died, his elephant \u201cwas\ndriven all over the country and his hawk was made to fly here, there\nand everywhere in search of a successor; and it came to pass that\nbefore whomsoever the elephant bowed and on whosesoever hand the hawk\nalighted, he was supposed to be the divinely chosen one.\u201d[304.4] In\nthe _Kath\u00e1ko\u00e7a_, a collection of stories illustrating the tenets and\npractice of Jainism, five ordeals, as they are expressly called, are\ninvoked. \u201cThe mighty elephant came into the garden outside the city.\nThere the elephant sprinkled Prince {305} Amaradatta [we have already\nheard of sprinkling as a means of hallowing to kingship], and put him\non its back. Then the horse neighed. The two chowries fanned the\nprince. An umbrella was held over his head. A divine voice was heard\nin the air: \u2018Long live King Amaradatta.\u2019\u201d[305.1]\n\nIn most of these cases the decision is clearly regarded as the\njudgement of Heaven; and in every case the judgement of Heaven may at\nleast be inferred. The incident is hardly less a favourite in the West\nthan in the East. In the West, too, it is an appeal to the judgement\nof Heaven. All the European stories, however, in which it occurs have\nbeen recorded within the last century; consequently the incident in\nquestion appears only in a very late form. Now an appeal to the\njudgement of Heaven in the selection of a ruler is familiar to the\npeasant mind of the continent in one solitary instance--that of the\nchoice of a pope. Accordingly this is the favourite, if not the only\nform of the story as it is told in France, Italy, and Switzerland. The\ncharming collection by the late M. Luzel of religious and\nquasi-religious tales of Lower Brittany contains one entitled \u201cPope\nInnocent.\u201d The hero is a son of the King of France cast off by his\nparents, who attempt to put him to death. He sets out for Rome to be\npresent at the election of a new pope. On the way he falls in with two\nCapuchin monks. The elder of them is gentle to him, the other\nsuspicious and hostile. The youth is a bit of a prig. Perhaps this is\nnot to be wondered at, seeing that he is endowed with supernatural\nknowledge and power. These qualities make his conduct throughout the\njourney enigmatical to the point of excusing, if not justifying, the\nattitude of his unfriendly companion. {306} Everyone takes him for a\nsorcerer; and the younger monk says in so many words to the other,\nthat they will be lucky if he do not bring them to the gallows or the\nstake before reaching Rome. As they draw near the holy city, the boy\nhears some birds in a hedge foretell that one of the three will be\nmade pope, just as the cocks were overheard in the story I have cited\nfrom the _J\u0101taka_. Thereupon he enquires of each of his companions\nwhat office he will give him if he (the monk) attain this dignity. The\nelder monk promises to make him his first cardinal, the younger\ncontemptuously says he will make him beadle in his cathedral. Arrived\nat Rome, they find that the choice of a pope proceeds in this way:\nThere are to be three days\u2019 processions. Every pilgrim has to carry a\ncandle, not lighted, in his hand; and he whose candle lights of itself\nis the person designated by God to the office of pope. The youth,\nhowever, has no money to buy candles. So he carries merely a white\nwand which he has cut in the hedge where the birds sang; and people,\nseeing him, shrug their shoulders and exclaim: \u201cLook at that poor\ninnocent!\u201d It is, however, not the candle of an archbishop, or bishop,\nor of any great dignitary of the church; it is not that of an abbot,\nor a monk, or even of a simple priest, which lights; it is the boy\nInnocent\u2019s white wand. The omen is refused on the first day; nor is it\naccepted until it has been repeated on the second and third days of\nthe ceremony. At last the premier cardinal kneels before him,\nacknowledges him as pope and asks for his benediction. Thus Innocent\nbecomes pope at Rome, by the will of God.[306.1]\n\nThe story of Pope Innocent belongs to the cycle of the Outcast Child,\na well-known group of folk-tales, of which {307} the examples most\nfamiliar to us are the story of King Lear and that of Joseph and his\nbrethren. The hero (or heroine) of these tales is cast off by his\nrelatives for reasons at the least excusable. Sometimes, as in the\nTeleut tale already mentioned, his life is attempted. But in the end\nhe attains a place and dignity which enable him to compel recognition\nof his wrongs, and, after the infliction of retributive humiliation,\nto pardon the offenders. In these _m\u00e4rchen_ the pope is not always\nchosen by the burning of a taper. In the Italian variants the\nfavourite method is by a dove which alights on the hero\u2019s head. In a\nSwiss story from the Upper Valais two snow-white doves settle on his\nshoulders. In a Basque story, as the travellers approach Rome the\nbells begin to ring of themselves. In a story from Upper Brittany the\nwill of Heaven is declared by a bell, which rings of itself when the\ndestined pope passes beneath it. In a story from Normandy the new pope\nis indicated by \u201ca portion of Heaven stooping upon him whom Jesus\nwould choose to govern His Church.\u201d The collector, while faithfully\nrecording this singular phrase, is puzzled by it, and suggests that it\nmust mean a cloud resting on him.[307.1] In all cases it is quite\nclear that the falling of the lot, however it may be accomplished, is\nregarded as a direct expression of the divine will. The sacred\ncharacter of the Papacy, and the names of historical popes, as\nInnocent and Gregory, given to the heroes, raise the suspicion that\nthese tales are something more than _m\u00e4rchen_, and lead directly to\nthe enquiry, not whether such prodigies have in fact been the means of\ndetermining the succession to the popedom, but whether they have been\nbelieved to have occurred.\n\nNow it happens that this very event was reported in {308} connection\nwith the election of the great Pope Innocent III., in the year 1198.\nThree doves, it was said, flew about the church during the\nproceedings, and at last one of them, a white one, came and perched on\nhis right side, which was held to be a favourable omen.[308.1] In the\natmosphere of the Middle Ages an occurrence of the kind, if it\nhappened, could not fail to make a great impression on the popular\nmind. The dove would be regarded as no less than the embodiment of the\nHoly Spirit. Long before Innocent\u2019s day--indeed before the Middle Ages\nbegan--something like this would seem to have happened. It is recorded\nby Eusebius that in the reign of the Emperor Gordian, who ruled from\nA.D. 238 to 244, when all the brethren were assembled in the church\nfor the purpose of electing a successor to Anteros, Bishop of Rome,\nsuddenly a dove flew down from on high and sat on the head of Fabian.\nThereupon the assembly with one voice acclaimed him bishop and seated\nhim on the episcopal throne.[308.2]\n\nNor were popes alone thus honoured. Dr Conyers Middleton, in his once\nfamous _Letter from Rome_, records that \u201cin the cathedral church of\nRavenna I saw, in mosaic work, the pictures of those archbishops of\nthe place who, as all their historians affirm, were chosen for several\nages successively by the special designation of the Holy Ghost, who in\na full assembly of the clergy and people, used to descend visibly on\nthe person elect in the shape of a dove.\u201d[308.3] Among the apocryphal\nstories in _The Book of Sir John Maundeville_ we are told that in the\nconvent on Mount Sinai are many lamps burning. The author, {309}\nwhoever he may have been, writes rather a muddled account of the\nelection of \u201cprelate of the abbey.\u201d I gather from it that each monk\nhas a lamp, and that when a prelate is chosen his lamp will light of\nitself, if he be a good man and worthy of the office; if otherwise,\nthe lamp, though lighted, will go out. An inconsistent tradition ran\nthat the priest who sang mass for the deceased dignitary found written\nupon the altar the name of him who was to be chosen in his place. But\nthough the miracle-monger who writes under the name of Sir John\nMaundeville professes to have been at the monastery and questioned the\nmonks, he admits that he could not induce them to tell him the\nfacts.[309.1]\n\nThe marvels reported of the election of Christian bishops are told\nwith little variation of the election of other rulers. Paulus Diaconus\nrelates that when Liutprand, king of the Lombards, a contemporary of\nCharles Martel, was thought to be dying, his subjects met outside the\nwalls of his capital, Pavia, at the church of St Mary ad\nPerticas,[309.2] to choose a successor. Their choice fell on the\nking\u2019s nephew, Hildeprand, in whose hand they formally placed the\nroyal spear. Immediately a cuckoo flew down and settled on the point\nof the spear, as it will be remembered a cuckoo in the Tartar story\nsettled on the kalender\u2019s head. This, however, was reckoned by {310}\nLombard wiseacres as an evil omen. Their augury was so far justified,\nthat King Liutprand did not die after all, but recovered from his\nsickness and was not well pleased that his subjects had been in such a\nhurry to find a successor. Yet he did not refuse to recognize his\nnephew as co-ruler; and when he at last died, Hildeprand succeeded\nhim.[310.1] Of another king of the Lombards, Desiderius, a\ncontemporary of Charles the Great, the story is told that the Lombard\nnobles were meeting to choose a king at Pavia, and Desiderius, a pious\nman of noble lineage who dwelt at Brescia, journeyed thither to be\npresent, accompanied by a serving man. At Leno, between Brescia and\nCremona, being weary, he lay down under a tree to sleep. As he slept\nhis servant beheld a snake crawl forth and wind itself round his head\nlike a crown. The servant was afraid to move, lest the snake might\ninjure his master; but after a while it uncoiled and crept away.\nDesiderius meanwhile had dreamt that the crown of the Lombards was\nplaced on his head. When he reached Pavia, the dream was\nfulfilled.[310.2]\n\nIt is said that in Senjero, a petty kingdom in the south of Abyssinia,\nwhen the king dies the nobles assemble outside the city in the open\nplain, and wait until a vulture or an insect settles on one of them,\nwho is then saluted as king.[310.3] Everyone is familiar with the\nstory told by {311} Herodotus concerning the election of a successor\nto Smerdis the Magian, usurper of the throne of Persia, how it was\nagreed that the successful conspirators should meet at sunrise, and\nthat he whose horse first neighed should be king. According to\nHerodotus, Darius won by a trick of his groom. That may or may not\nhave been. What interests us in the story is that it was believed that\nthe succession on this occasion to the throne of Persia was determined\nby an augury drawn from horses, and that the neighing of Darius\u2019 horse\nwas instantly followed by the further manifestation of the will of\nHeaven in thunder and lightning from a clear sky.[311.1] The\nelephant, the horse and the divine voice of Indian _m\u00e4rchen_ here\nfind their counterpart, if not in actual fact, at least in the serious\nbelief of the venerable historian, and the people whose tradition he\nreports. In this connection it must not be forgotten that among many\npeoples, horses were sacred animals. They were sacrificed to the gods;\nthey were looked upon as in the counsels of the gods; their neighing\nwas a favourable omen. It is therefore not at all improbable that\nHerodotus is here recording the mode of choice actually\nadopted.[311.2]\n\nSimilarly in the annals of Kedda, a portion of the Malay Peninsula,\nthere is a story of the rajah who was dethroned and fled. His nobles\nand queen sent to the King of Siam for a new ruler. He, having\nconsulted his astrologers, was advised that the true heir to the\nthrone could only be discovered by a supernaturally intelligent\nelephant, named Kamala Jauhari, which was wandering about on the\nconfines of Kedda and Patani. When the envoys brought back the message\nto the Kedda chiefs, {312} they decked the palace for a f\u00eate. \u201cThen\nall the people held a fast for seven days and nights.\u2026 On the night\nof the seventh day the _dupa_ and incense were burned, and all sorts\nof perfumes were diffused around, and at the same time the name of the\nsuper-intelligent elephant was invoked to attend upon the four\n_mantris_ [ministers]. Immediately almost there was a sound, like the\nrushing of a coming tempest, from the East, with earthquakes,\nagitations and terrific sounds. In the midst of all this uproar the\nterrified spectators were delighted to see Kamala Jauhari standing at\nthe hall, and thrusting up her trunk into it. The four mantris\ninstantly rubbed her with cosmetics and bathed her with lime-juice,\nwhile others applied cosmetics and sweet-smelling oils, rubbing these\nover its whole body. Then a meal was served up to it, and put into its\nmouth. The state howdah was now placed on its back, along with all its\nappurtenances, curtains and hangings. Then one of the mantris read the\nKing of Siam\u2019s letter close to the ear of Kamala Jauhari, acquainting\nher that she was expected to assist in finding out a rajah for Kedda\nby all means. When Jauhari heard all this, she bowed her head and\nplayed her trunk, and then set forth in the direction of the East,\nfollowed and attended by from three to four hundred men, having\nbanners and flags streaming in the wind, and being supplied with all\nnecessaries, and armed with various kinds of spears, held in hand.\u201d It\nis needless to say that the expedition thus pompously described was\nsuccessful in discovering the boy. The elephant caught him up in her\ntrunk, and, placing him on her back in the howdah, carried him off in\ntriumph to the palace, where he was forthwith clad in royal robes and\ncrowned.[312.1]\n\nIn Indian belief it is not only super-intelligent {313} elephants\nwhich can discover the future occupant of a throne. The elephant is\nthe possession and symbol of royalty. But in the stories, other royal\nproperties are also instruments of divination for that purpose. That\nthese stories were founded on current superstitions is shown by the\nfact that among the ornaments of the throne of the famous Tippoo,\nconquered by the British at the end of the eighteenth century, was a\nbird of paradise made of gold and covered with diamonds, rubies and\nemeralds, and represented in the act of fluttering. Of this bird it\nwas believed that every head it overshadowed would, in time, wear a\ncrown. When Tippoo was defeated and slain, the Marquis Wellesley, at\nthat time governor-general, sent it home to the Court of Directors of\nthe East India Company.[313.1] It is now at Windsor.\n\nComing back to Europe, we find the succession to the throne of one of\nthe Scythian tribes determined by the possession of a certain stone.\nThe author of the work on the names of rivers and mountains attributed\nto Plutarch relates that in the river Tanais a stone like a crystal\ngrows. It resembles in shape a man wearing a crown. When the king\ndies, whosoever finds it, and can produce it in the assembly held on\nthe banks of the river to elect a new sovereign, is recognized as the\nrightful successor.[313.2] For this statement Ctesiphon on Plants and\nAristobulus on Stones are cited, authors whose works are lost and who\nare unknown by any other citations. It is, therefore, impossible for\nus to judge how far they are likely to have known, or with what\naccuracy they may have presented, the practice of the barbarous tribe\nreferred to. There can, however, be no doubt that election by\ndivination has been resorted to by peoples in many parts of the world.\nThe succession of Grand Lamas of Lhasa {314} supplies examples of both\nstory and custom. The custom used to be to write on slips of paper the\nnames of all likely male children born under miraculous portents (of\nwhich anon) just after the death of the preceding Lama, to put these\nslips into a golden urn and thus ballot for his successor (or, as it\nis believed, his new incarnation) amid constant prayer. But the\nChinese court, which has a considerable stake in the decision, was\nthought to influence the selection. The state-oracle has therefore\npredicted disaster by the appearance of a monster as the Dalai or\nGrand Lama, if the ancient practice were continued; and on a recent\nvacancy, in 1876, he foretold the discovery, by a pious monk, of the\nfuture Grand Lama, announcing that his discovery would be accompanied\nby horse-neighings. He sent this monk to Chukorgye, where he dreamed\nthat he was to look in a certain lake for the future Dalai. There,\npictured in the bosom of the lake, the monk saw the child with his\nparents in the house where he was born, and at the same instant his\nhorse neighed. In due course the child himself was found, and\nsuccessfully encountered the usual test, by recognizing the articles\nwhich had belonged to him in his previous life. Every child who is a\ncandidate has to pass this test. He is confronted with a duplicate\ncollection of various sacred objects, and he is required to point out\namong them the genuine possessions of the Dalai Lama. The Dalai Lama\nis not the only Grand Lama. The head of every lamasery, or convent of\nlamas, bears this title. When the Grand Lama of such a lamasery dies,\nhis successor, or new incarnation, is sought first of all by\ndivination. A diviner is called in, who, after consulting his books,\ndirects the lamas where to look for the boy. When they have found him,\nhe has to pass a similar test to that just described. In addition he\nhas to submit to cross-examination {315} on the name and situation of\nthe lamasery, and how many lamas reside there, and on the habits of\nthe deceased Grand Lama, and the manner of his death.\n\nThe portents at the birth of a Dalai Lama are magnificent. It is not\nirrelevant to mention them here, as they may be regarded as part of\nthe auguries which decide the succession. An official report from the\nChinese Commissioner to the Emperor, on such an occasion in the year\n1839, declares, among other things, that it was ascertained that on\nthe night before the boy was born, a brilliant radiance of many\ncolours was manifested in the air, and the water in the well of the\ntemple courtyard changed to a milk-white colour. Seven days later a\nflame appeared on the rock behind the post-station. When the rock was\nexamined, no trace of fire remained, but a sacred image and characters\nwere found, together with the print of footsteps. Moreover, on the\nnight when the child was born, the sound of music was heard, and milk\ndropped upon the pillars of the house.[315.1]\n\nThe Buddhists are not the only sect in the Chinese Empire which has a\nsupreme head appointed by religious divination. The arch-abbot of\nTaouism dwells in a princely residence on the Dragon and Tiger\nMountains, in the province of Kiang-si. \u201cThe power of this dignitary,\u201d\nwe are told, \u201cis immense, and is acknowledged by all the priests of\nhis sect throughout the empire.\u201d The office has been confined for\ncenturies to one family or clan. When the arch-abbot dies, all the\nmale members of his clan are cited to appear at the official\nresidence. The name of each one is engraved on a separate piece of\nlead, and deposited in a large earthenware vase filled with water.\nStanding round this vase are priests who invoke the three persons of\nthe Taouist Trinity to cause the piece {316} of lead bearing the name\nof the person on whom the choice of the gods has fallen, to come to\nthe surface of the water.[316.1]\n\nThe Taouist dignitary seems to possess only spiritual power, except\nprobably in his own monastery. The Dalai Lama, on the other hand,\nretains some portion of civil rule. In both cases the person of the\nruler is looked upon as sacred. Among savage and barbarous nations the\noffice of priest or medicine-man is often not clearly distinguished\nfrom that of temporal ruler. The instances in which the chief or king\nis looked upon as divine, in which he is responsible for the weather,\nin which he causes the crops to grow, and performs other superhuman\nfunctions, are too numerous, and too well-known to be mentioned here.\nSince the publication of _The Golden Bough_ they have been among the\ncommonplaces of folklore. I need only remind you that \u201cthe divinity\nthat doth hedge a king\u201d is not confined to savagery and barbarism. It\nhas lasted far into civilization, and been sedulously cultivated for\npolitical purposes by royalty in every age. A Roman Emperor was Divus\nAugustus. When the dignity of king becomes hereditary, the monarch is\nheld to be at least descended from the gods. The Mikado traces his\ndescent from the Sun-goddess. King George V. traces his from Woden,\nthe war-god of the Anglo-Saxon tribes which colonized Britain in the\nfifth and sixth centuries. It is true that this genealogy, at one time\nseriously credited, is now treated as fable; but even yet the\ncoronation ceremonies of \u201cHis Sacred Majesty,\u201d though not directly of\npagan origin, witness to the mysterious sanctity that surrounds him.\n\nA view of kingship thus exalted renders it easy to understand why,\nwhen circumstances compelled the choice {317} of a king, the divine\nwill must have been most anxiously consulted. It was not merely that\nthe qualities of a leader in battle, a wise judge and administrator,\nand a prudent politician were needed. Luck and the favour of the gods\nwere more than these, to say nothing of the marks of godhead, which in\nmany cases it was necessary to discover in his person, conduct or\nknowledge. Hence the choice of the people, or rather the recognition\nby the people, would depend upon the auguries, or upon more direct\nindications of the decision of Heaven. When Dagara, the King of\nKaragwe, on the western shore of Lake Victoria Nyanza, died, he left\nbehind him three sons, any of whom was eligible to the throne. The\nofficers of state put before them a small mystic drum. It was of\ntrifling weight, but, being loaded with charms, no one could lift it,\nsave he to whom the ancestral spirits were inclined as the successor.\nNor was this enough. The victor in this contest was required to\nundergo a further trial of his right. He was made to sit, as he\nhimself informed Captain Speke, on the ground at a certain spot where\nthe land would gradually rise up under him, like a telescope, until it\nreached the skies. The aspirant who was approved by the spirits was\nthen gradually lowered in safety; whereas, if not approved, the\nelastic hill would suddenly collapse, and he would be dashed to\npieces. It is needless to add, that Rumanika, Captain Speke\u2019s\ninformant, claimed to have gone through the ordeal with\nsuccess.[317.1]\n\n{318}\n\nLight is perhaps thrown on the matter by the final test actually\nimposed on the successor elected to the throne of Ukerewe, an island\nin the lake, and therefore adjacent to the kingdom of Karagwe. He is\ntaken to Kitale, the burial-place of the kings, about two kilometres\nfrom the capital. There lies an immense stone rising like a donkey\u2019s\nback from the soil, beginning a few centimetres only above the earth,\nand gently swelling until it attains the height of a little more than\na metre. It is called the _ruswa_. The provisionally proclaimed king,\nwith both hands laden with lances, bows and arrows, and wearing\ngigantic native sandals, is required to climb it slowly and with short\nsteps to the top. If he be so unfortunate as to slip and fall on the\nway, he is unworthy of the drum (the symbol of sovereignty), and is\ndriven away without pity. If, on the other hand, he successfully reach\nthe platform, or highest point of the rock, he is acclaimed in a\nfrenzy of excitement, the men breaking forth into a sham fight, the\nwomen joyfully shouting \u201cYu, yu!\u201d The test is over; he is definitely\nking.[318.1] It is not impossible that, reduced to its final terms,\nsome such ordeal as this was what the candidate for the throne of\nKaragwe actually underwent.\n\nThese are barbarous auguries. But all auguries and oracles are\nbarbarous. We do not know how Melchizedek was appointed King of Salem.\nThe writer of the Epistle to the Hebrews refers to him as \u201cwithout\nfather, without mother, without genealogy,\u201d as if there were something\npeculiar in the omission of his pedigree, though in this respect he\ndid not differ from the other kings mentioned in the narrative.\nHowever, the discovery at Tel-el-Amarna of letters from Ebed-tob, King\nof Salem in the fifteenth century B.C., to his suzerain the {319} King\nof Egypt, has rendered it possible to suppose that Melchizedek did not\ncome to the throne by inheritance, and consequently that his parentage\nwas unimportant. Ebed-tob, protesting his loyalty as an ally and a\ntributary of the King of Egypt, says: \u201cNeither my father, nor my\nmother, (but) the oracle of the mighty king, established (me) in the\nhouse of (my) father.\u201d In other words, he states, as Professor Sayce\ninterprets the expression, \u201cthat his authority was not based on the\nright of inheritance; he had been called to exercise it by a divine\nvoice.\u201d[319.1] We must beware of drawing too large an inference from\na single phrase. Assuming that \u201cthe mighty king\u201d is the god \u2019Shalim,\nand not the suzerain whom he is addressing, there remains the question\nwhat is meant by \u201cthe house of his father.\u201d Evidently it is the royal\noffice; but is it not the royal office previously filled by his\nancestors? The correct view, I would suggest, is that the kingship\nwas, like that of Karagwe, descendible to any scion of the royal\nhouse, subject to the decision of the oracle. The pedigree then would\nbe important, but not all-important. The god would decide among the\ncandidates. Some such arrangement would seem to have been recognized\nin the heroic age of Greece, if we may trust the somewhat obscure\nexpressions of the _Odyssey_. There are examples in the Homeric poems\nof kings who have succeeded to the inheritance of their sires.\nAgamemnon is one. On the other hand, the position of Ulysses is\nenigmatical. It is enigmatical in regard to Laertes, his father, who\nwas still alive; while, if Ulysses were dead, it would seem that\nTelemachus, his son, would only have the first, but by no means an\nindefeasible, claim. As Mr Crooke has pointed out, it results from\n{320} the interview between Telemachus and the wooers in the first\nbook of the _Odyssey_, that some kind of divine nomination should\nappoint the king, and that the choice might fall, not on Telemachus,\nbut on another of the Ach\u00e6ans in sea-girt Ithaca.[320.1] It is\ndangerous to read into the poem what is not expressed. The poet is\ndescribing an age already mythical, though no doubt he has embodied\nconsiderable fragments of actual custom in the representation. He does\nnot detail the process of appointment of king. Consequently, all we\ncan safely say (and that on the assumption that here we have one of\nthe fragments of actual custom) is that the manners and whole\natmosphere of the poem correspond with a stage of culture in which the\nwill of the gods would be ascertained by augury. In this connection it\nmay not be irrelevant to refer to the early traditions of Rome. The\nquarrel between Romulus and Remus concerned not merely the site of the\ncity, but also the founder after whose name it should be called--in\nother words, the royal dignity. It was settled by an augury taken from\nthe flight of vultures. Numa, the successor of Romulus, though\nelected, took care to assure himself by auguries that the gods\napproved of the choice. It must be remembered that the legends, as we\nhave them, took shape under the republic when the ordinary human\nprocess of election had been long established. The habit thus formed\nprobably affected them; and I think we are warranted in suspecting\nthat if we could recover them at a prior stage, we should find the\nappointment of king resting on the will of the gods and ascertained by\ndivination.\n\n{321}\n\nNo argument is needed to show that the form of tradition is affected,\neven where the substance remains, by external changes. Customs\nreferred to in a legend may become obsolete and consequently\nunintelligible; and the reference to them must of necessity be\nmodified into something which is understood, or it will be dropped\ninto oblivion. The tradition of the _Lia F\u00e1il_, with which I started,\nis an example. To step on the stone was to put one\u2019s claim to\nsovereignty to proof. As Keating relates, doubtless from some older\nauthor, on it \u201cwere enchantments, for it used to roar under the person\nwho had the best right to obtain the sovereignty of Ireland.\u201d But this\nis the latest form of the tradition. We can, however, reconstruct the\nearlier form by comparison with custom and tradition elsewhere. They\nrender it clear that the stone was once held to declare the divine\nwill as to the succession. Further back still, it may have been\nregarded as itself endowed with power of choice.[321.1] Strictly\nspeaking, this is not augury, for augury is the ascertainment and\ndeclaration of a higher will. But some such animistic belief may have\nbeen the seed-plot out of which augury grew as gods properly so-called\nwere evolved. At the stage at which the tradition reaches us the _Lia\nF\u00e1il_ no longer either chooses on its own account or makes known the\nchoice of Heaven. At this stage, not only is it enchanted,\nconsequently diabolic rather than divine in the source of its power,\nbut also it merely points out him who has \u201cthe best right.\u201d The\nprinciple of {322} heredity is now firmly established; its application\nalone is uncertain. When the principle is established and the\napplication certain, it is not necessary to consult an oracle.\n\nThe changes I thus venture to postulate are steps in the\ndisintegration of the myth. A Welsh tale now to be cited has taken a\nfurther step in that it simply credits the instrument of divination\nwith the diagnosis of blood royal, the practical purpose of\ndetermining the succession to the kingdom having disappeared.\nAccording to Giraldus Cambrensis, it happened that in the time of\nHenry I. Gruffydd ap Rhys ap Tudor, who, although he only held of the\nking one commote, namely, a fourth part of the cantref of Caio, yet\nwas reputed as lord in Deheubarth, was returning from court by way of\nLlangorse Lake, in Brecknockshire, with Milo, Earl of Hereford and\nLord of Brecknock, and Payn FitzJohn, who then held Ewyas, two of the\nking\u2019s secretaries and privy councillors. It was winter, and the lake\nwas covered with water-fowl of various kinds. Seeing them, Milo,\npartly in joke, said to Gruffydd: \u201cIt is an old saying in Wales that\nif the natural prince of Wales, coming to this lake, command the birds\nupon it to sing, they will all immediately sing.\u201d Gruffydd replied:\n\u201cDo you, therefore, who now bear sway in this country, command them\nfirst.\u201d Both Milo and Payn having made the attempt in vain, Gruffydd\ndismounted from his horse, fell on his knees with his face to the\nEast, and after devout prayers to God, stood up, and making the sign\nof the cross on his forehead and face, cried aloud: \u201cAlmighty and\nall-knowing God, Lord Jesus Christ, show forth here to-day Thy power!\nIf Thou hast made me lineally to descend from the natural princes of\nWales, I command these birds in Thy name to declare it.\u201d {323}\nForthwith all the birds, according to their kind, beating the water\nwith outstretched wings, began altogether to sing and proclaim it. No\nwonder that all who were present were amazed and confounded, and that\nMilo and Payn reported it to the king, who is said to have taken it\nphilosophically enough. \u201cBy the death of Christ!\u201d (his customary\noath), he replied, \u201cit is not so much to be wondered at. For although\nby our great power we may impose injustice and violence upon those\npeople, yet they are none the less known to have the hereditary right\nto the country.\u201d[323.1]\n\nIn the same manner, in India snakes are supposed to be specially\ngifted with the faculty of distinguishing persons of royal race or\nborn to rule.[323.2] One example will be enough. The Gandharbs of\nBenares, a caste of singers and prostitutes, ascribe their origin to\nDoman Deo, the second Raghubansi R\u00e2jput king of Chandr\u00e2vati. He had\na groom named Sh\u00eeru, who one day went into the jungle to cut grass,\nand fell asleep. While he slept, a cobra raised its hood over his\nhead, and a wagtail kept flying above him. In that condition his\nmaster saw him, and afterwards asked him what he would do for him if\nhe became king. Sh\u00eeru promised to make him his prime minister. Going\nsubsequently to Delhi, the throne of which was vacant, Sh\u00eeru was\nchosen emperor, in the manner with which we are already acquainted, by\nan elephant laying a garland on his neck; and he redeemed his word by\nmaking Doman Deo his waz\u00eer.[323.3] In Further India a saga of the\nChams relates that Klong Garay, who plays a great part in their\nlegendary history, {324} was found by a companion of his wanderings,\nafter a temporary absence, sleeping and watched by two dragons, which\nwere licking his body. Then he knew, we are told, that Klong Garay was\nof royal race.[324.1] The child of a king of Siam by a Naga, or\ndivine snake, being exposed, was found and adopted by a hunter. The\nking\u2019s subjects were compelled by law to work in turn for the king.\nThe hunter, when summoned, took with him his adopted child and laid it\nin the shadow of the palace, to protect it from the rays of the sun\nwhile he performed his task. But the spire of the palace inclined\nbefore the child, and the shadow appeared to fly. This prodigy put the\nking upon enquiry, and he identified his son by means of the ring and\nmantle which he had given to the lady, and which had been found with\nthe child.[324.2] In the old English metrical romance of _Havelok the\nDane_, the hero is identified by means of a royal mark, \u201ca croiz ful\ngent,\u201d shining brighter than gold on his right shoulder.\n\n \u201cIt sparkede, and ful brith shon,\n So doth the gode charbucle ston,\n That men mouthe se by the lith\n A peni chesen, so was it brith.\u201d[324.3]\n\nThe romance in which the incident is found is a literary version of\nthe local tradition of Grimsby, still commemorated in the seal of the\ncorporation. The poem dates from the end of the thirteenth century.\nThere are two French versions which I have not seen. Professor Skeat\nhas epitomized the longer in the preface to his edition of the English\nromance. In it a flame issues from Havelok\u2019s mouth when he sleeps.\nThis is {325} a personal peculiarity, also found in the English lay.\nHis heirship to the throne of Denmark is determined by his ability to\nblow a horn which none but the true heir could sound. Thus we are\nbrought back to the succession by divination from which we started,\nand of which the simple diagnosis of royal descent is a corruption and\na weakening. It is preserved here, we know not by what cause, after\nits true meaning had been forgotten. Adopted first of all into\ntradition from living custom, when the custom was superseded by other\nmeans of determining the succession it survived as a tradition until,\nits true intent being gradually lost, while the hereditary principle\nwas strengthened and fenced about with sanctity, the incident faded\ninto a merely picturesque presentation, in some places of prophecy, in\nother places of the claims of birth.\n\nThe study of folk-tales is often despised as mere trifling. But\ntraditional narratives must always occupy an important place in the\nstudy of the past. Rightly used they have much to tell us of human\nhistory, of human thought and the evolution of human institutions. It\nmay safely be said that of all the incidents that compose them there\nis none which is not a concrete presentation either of human\ninstitutions or of human belief. They are all thus in a sense the\noutcome of actual human experiences. The stories of election by augury\nare not wilder than the authentic facts. The telescopic mountain of\nKaragwe, which Rumanika averred himself to have experienced, is at\nleast as wonderful as the groaning of the _Lia F\u00e1il_, or the lighting\nof a dry twig. Even if we may be allowed to rationalize it in the\nmanner suggested by the ordeal required of the chosen candidate for\nthe throne of the neighbouring Bakerewe, it remains evidence of the\nbelief imposed by the power of imagination in a moment {326} of\nexcitement. Analogous performances are averred by the votaries of what\nis called spiritualism to have been exhibited in our own day by\nmediums, and were solemnly recorded long ago in the witch-trials of\nvarious European countries. In one of the stories I have cited we\nfound the dying monarch laying down among the conditions to be\nfulfilled by his successor, that the women of the royal household\nshould recognize him. Secret intrigues of the harem are believed to\ndetermine the devolution of many an Eastern crown. But that the formal\nand ceremonial choice of the heir should be made by the wives of the\ndeceased ruler seems too grotesque to be known outside a fairy tale.\nYet this was the law a hundred years ago in the kingdom of Quiteve, on\nthe south-eastern coast of Africa. When a king died the queens (that\nis to say, his legitimate wives) named the person who was to accompany\nhis body to the burial-place, and the person thus named became the\nsuccessor.[326.1] In an adjoining kingdom a similar law prevailed. It\nwas forbidden to any prince to enter the palace where the women were,\nor to take possession of the kingdom without their consent, and\nwhoever entered by violence and took possession against their will,\nlost his right of succession. The Portuguese friar, to whom we are\nindebted for the information, records a case which happened while he\nwas in Sofala, and in which the claimant would have entered and\nformally seated himself in the royal hall with the royal widows. They,\nhowever, were unwilling to acknowledge him as their king and husband.\nAccordingly they secretly summoned another member of the royal family,\nseated him with them in the public {327} place, and sent officers\nthrough the town to proclaim the new sovereign and call his subjects\nto do homage. The pretender fled. This instance is the more remarkable\nbecause the unsuccessful claimant had in his favour the nomination of\nthe previous monarch. Though this constituted not an indefeasible\ntitle, it afforded at least a strong presumption in his favour. Yet it\nwas defeated, in accordance with established and publicly acknowledged\ncustom, by the choice of the harem.\n\nNor was the rule requiring the choice, or at any rate the recognition,\nby the harem so redolent of the comic opera as it may seem, since the\nwomen all became the wives of the new king.[327.1] This is usual in\nAfrica, and not in Africa only, but in other regions where a similar\ntype of polygamous monarchical society exists. It is most familiar to\nus among the ancient Hebrews. Absalom, by taking possession of his\nfather\u2019s harem, made a final and unqualified assertion of his\nsuccession to the throne. Solomon evidently regarded Adonijah\u2019s\nrequest for Abishag the Shunammite as a pretension inconsistent with\nhis own sovereignty; for she had been part of King David\u2019s harem,\nthough in fact no more than his nurse.[327.2] In these cases the\nwomen had probably little to say in the matter. But by the customs of\nthe South-Eastern Bantu a man\u2019s widows, though they are bound to the\nfamily of the deceased, are allowed some latitude in the choice of the\nindividual man with whom they will mate. Among the Thonga, for\nexample, at the final distribution of the estate, any of the widows\nwho refuses to take the husband {328} to whom she has been\nprovisionally allotted will be permitted to exercise her own\npreference.[328.1] The power accorded to the widowed queens of\nQuiteve to choose their new husband was hardly an extension of this\nliberty. That it drew with it incidentally the right to the kingdom\nwas a consequence which did not affect the principle.\n\n [The End]\n\n\n\n\n BIBLIOGRAPHICAL LIST\n\n{329}\n\n_Intended to facilitate reference to modern works cited and not\notherwise sufficiently described._\n\nAlexander, Sir James Edward, K.L.S., _An Expedition of Discovery into\nthe Interior of Africa_. 2 vols. London, 1838.\n\nAlldridge, T. 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Frankfurt-a.-M., 1907-11.\n[Ver\u00f6ffentlichungen aus der st\u00e4dtischen Museum.]\n\nStumme, Dr Hans, _M\u00e4rchen der Schluh von T\u00e1zerwalt_. Leipzig, 1895.\n\nSwanton, John R., _Tlingit Myths and Texts_. Washington, 1909 [Bull.\nB. E. 39].\n\nTaylor, Rev. Richard, M.A., F.G.S., _Te Ika a Maui; or New Zealand and\nits Inhabitants_. 2nd edition. London, 1870.\n\nTemple, Capt. R. C., _The Legends of the Panj\u00e2b_. 3 vols. Bombay and\nLondon, N.D.\n\nTennent, Sir James Emerson, K.C.S., LL.D., _Ceylon: An Account of the\nIsland_. 2nd edition. 2 vols. London, 1859.\n\nTheal, George M\u2018Call, LL.D., _Records of South-Eastern Africa_.\nCollected in various Libraries and Archive Departments in Europe. 7\nvols. Cape Colony, 1898-1901.\n\n----_The Yellow and Dark-skinned People of Africa South of the\nZambesi_. London, 1910.\n\nThomas, Northcote W., M.A., _Anthropological Report on the\nIbo-speaking Peoples of Nigeria_. 3 vols. London, 1913.\n\nThorpe, Benjamin, _Northern Mythology, comprising the Principal\nPopular Traditions and Superstitions of Scandinavia, North Germany and\nthe Netherlands_. 3 vols. London, 1851-52.\n\nThunberg, Charles Peter, M.D., _Travels in Europe, Africa and Asia\nmade between the years_ 1770 _and_ 1779. 2nd edition. 4 vols. London,\n1795.\n\nThurston, Edgar, C.I.E., assisted by K. Rangachari, M.A. _Castes and\nTribes of Southern India_. 7 vols. Madras, 1909.\n\n_Torres Straits, Reports of the Cambridge Anthropological Expedition\nto_. vols. [Vols. iii., iv., v., vi., and portions of vol. ii.\npublished.] Cambridge, 1901-.\n\nTozer, Rev. Henry Fanshawe, M.A , F.G.S., _Researches in the Highlands\nof Turkey_. 2 vols. London, 1869.\n\n{344}\n\n_Transactions of the Third International Congress for the History of\nReligions_. 2 vols. Oxford, 1908.\n\nTurner, George, LL.D., _Samoa a Hundred Years Ago and Long Before_.\nLondon, 1884.\n\nTylor, Edward B., _Primitive Culture: Researches into the Development\nof Mythology, Philosophy, Religion, Art and Custom_. 2 vols. London,\n1871.\n\n[Tylor Essays], _Anthropological Essays presented to Edward Burnett\nTylor in Honour of his Seventy-fifth Birthday, October_ 2, 1907, _by_\n[names follow]. Oxford, 1907.\n\n_University of California Publications in American Arch\u00e6ology and\nEthnology_. Frederic Ward Putnam, editor. 11 vols. Berkeley,\n1903-[proceeding].\n\nVan der Burgt, le R. P. J. M. M., _Un Grand Peuple de l\u2019Afrique\n\u00c9quatoriale. \u00c9l\u00e9ments d\u2019une Monographie sur l\u2019Urundi et les\nWarundi_. Bois le Duc, 1904.\n\nVan Gennep, Arnold, _Les Rites de Passage: \u00c9tude syst\u00e9matique des\nRites_. Paris, 1909.\n\n----_Tabou et Tot\u00e9misme \u00e0 Madagascar, \u00e9tude descriptive et\nth\u00e9orique_. Paris, 1904.\n\nVinson, Julien, _Le Folk-Lore du Pays Basque_. Paris, 1883.\n\nVon Alpenburg, Johann Nepomuk, Ritter, _Mythen und Sagen Tirols_.\nZurich, 1857.\n\nVon den Steinen, Professor Dr Karl, _Unter den Naturv\u00f6lkern Zentral\nBrasiliens. Reiseschilderung und Ergebnisse der Zweiten Sching\u00fa\nExpedition_, 1887-1888. Berlin, 1894.\n\nVon Wlislocki, Dr Heinrich, _Volksdichtungen der siebenb\u00fcrgischen und\ns\u00fcdungarischen Zigeuner_. Wien, 1890.\n\nWaddell, L. Austine, M.B., _The Buddhism of Tibet, or Lamaism with its\nMystic Cults_. London, 1895.\n\nWeeks, John H., _Among Congo Cannibals: Experiences, Impressions and\nAdventures during a Thirty Years\u2019 Sojourn amongst the Boloki and other\nCongo Tribes_. London, 1913.\n\nWerner, A., _The Natives of British Central Africa_. London, 1906.\n\nWestermarck, Edward, Ph.D., LL.D., _Ceremonies and Beliefs connected\nwith Agriculture, Certain Dates of the Solar Year, and the Weather in\nMorocco_. Helsingfors, 1913.\n\n{345}\n\nWestermarck, Edward, Ph.D., LL.D., _The Origin and Development of the\nMoral Ideas_. 2 vols. London, 1906-8.\n\nWiedemann, Alfred, Ph.D., _Religion of the Ancient Egyptians_. London,\n1897.\n\nWilken, Prof. Dr G. A., _De verspreide Geschriften van_, verzameld\ndoor Mr F. D. E. van Ossenbruggen. 4 vols. \u2019S-gravenhage, 1912.\n\nWilliams, Clement, _Through Burmah to Western China, being Notes of a\nJourney in_ 1863. Edinburgh and London, 1868.\n\nWilliams, Rev. John, _A Narrative of Missionary Enterprises in the\nSouth Sea Islands_. London, 1842.\n\nWilliams, Thomas, _Fiji and the Fijians. And Missionary Labours among\nthe Cannibals_, by James Calvert. Edited by George Stringer Rowe. 3rd\nedition. London, 1870.\n\nWilson, Rev. C. T., _Peasant Life in the Holy Land_. London, 1906.\n\nWolf, Johann Wilhelm, _Niederl\u00e4ndische Sagen_. Leipzig, 1843.\n\n_Zeitschrift des Vereins f\u00fcr Volkskunde_. 23 vols. Berlin,\n1891-[proceeding].\n\n_Zeitschrift f\u00fcr Ethnologie. Organ der Berliner Gesellschaft f\u00fcr\nAnthropologie, Ethnologie und Urgeschichte._ vols. Berlin,\n1869-[proceeding].\n\n_Zeitschrift f\u00fcr vergleichende Rechtswissenschaft_. 28 vols.\nStuttgart, 1887-[proceeding].\n\n\n\n\n ENDNOTES\n\n [1.1]\n _Prim. Cul._, i. 378 _sqq._\n\n [2.1]\n Anantha Krishna, i. 29.\n\n [2.2]\n Tylor, _Prim. Cul._, i. 382.\n\n [3.1]\n Kolben, 91.\n\n [3.2]\n Alexander, i. 170 _sqq._ Similar answers were more recently given to a\n missionary by one of the neighbouring Bergdamara, a people mainly of\n Bantu blood (_Globus_, xcvi. 173).\n\n [4.1]\n Kidd, 65. Amusing illustrations of the Kaffir\u2019s cleverness at the\n game are given.\n\n [4.2]\n Andersson, 200. _Cf._ Pogge on the Bashilange, _Mittheil. d. Afrik.\n Gesellsch._, iv. 254.\n\n [4.3]\n Rev. J. S. Gale, _F. L._, xi. 325.\n\n [5.1]\n S. H. C. Hawtry, _J. A. I._, xxxi. 290. _Cf._ Grubb, 114. Similar\n statements are made concerning other South American tribes (_J. A.\n I._, xiii. 209, 253).\n\n [5.2]\n Batchelor, 357.\n\n [6.1]\n Neuhauss, iii. 448 note. _Cf._ Introduction and pp. 154, 507.\n\n [6.2]\n Marillier, reviewing Miss Kingsley\u2019s _Travels_; _Rev. Hist. Rel._,\n xxxix. 137.\n\n [7.1]\n Spencer and Gillen, _C. T._, 139 note.\n\n [7.2]\n Rev. J. Macdonald, _J. A. I._, xx. 120. _Cf._ Junod, _S. A. Tribe_,\n ii. 278. Dr Theal says that it is only since European ideas have been\n disseminated among these peoples that the question of the place of the\n dead has arisen; and he points to the similarity in mental condition\n between them and the peasantry of Europe (_Yellow and Dark-skinned\n People_, 185).\n\n [8.1]\n _Journ. Am. F. L._, xxi. 233, 236.\n\n [9.1]\n Wilson, _Peasant Life_, 6.\n\n [11.1]\n Sproat, 120.\n\n [11.2]\n Boas, _Mind_, 111.\n\n [12.1]\n Boas, Sixth Report on the North-western Tribes of Canada, _Rep. Brit.\n Ass._, 1890, 582.\n\n [13.1]\n Rev. Father J. Jett\u00e9, S.J., _Anthropos_, vi. 242, 95.\n\n [14.1]\n R. C. Phillips, _J. A. I._, xvii. 220.\n\n [15.1]\n Jaussen, 287, 294, 332, 334. _Cf._ Hanauer, 234.\n\n [16.1]\n _J. A. I._, x. 262.\n\n [18.1]\n _Bull. Soc. Neuch. G\u00e9og._, ix. 96.\n\n [19.1]\n J. Smith, 77, 373.\n\n [20.1]\n _J. A. I._, xii. 163 note.\n\n [22.1]\n Similar classifications of nouns have now been discovered among the\n Negroes, see _R. E. S._, iii. 241.\n\n [26.1]\n Tylor, _Prim. Cul._, i. 385.\n\n [31.1]\n Kingsley, _Trav._, 493.\n\n [32.1]\n Spencer and Gillen, _N. T._, 175, 358 n., 530.\n\n [32.2]\n _F. L. Journ._, iv. 30.\n\n [32.3]\n I have collected the evidence in _The Legend of Perseus_, vol. i., and\n in some directions more fully in _Primitive Paternity_, vol. i.\n\n [33.1]\n Farnell, _Cults_, i. 195.\n\n [37.1]\n J. N. B. Hewitt, _Amer. Anthr._, N.S., iv. 38.\n\n [41.1]\n W. Jones, _Journ. Am. F. L._, xviii. 183 _sqq._ As used by Dr Jones\n here, the word Algonkin only includes the Sauk, Fox, and Kickapoo\n tribes.\n\n [41.2]\n _Amer. Anthr._, N.S., iv. 36; _cf._ 33.\n\n [42.1]\n _R. B. E._, xxvii. 134. _Wakonda_ in its various forms is pronounced\n with an _n_ somewhat like the French nasal.\n\n [43.1]\n _R. B. E._, xxvii. 597 _sqq._\n\n [44.1]\n Fletcher, _Am. Anthr._, xiv. 106; J. O. Dorsey, _R. B. E._, xi. 366;\n Riggs, _Contrib. N. Am. Ethnol._, vii. 507 _sqq._\n\n [45.1]\n Swanson, _R. B. E._, xxvi. 451 n., 452 _sqq._\n\n [48.1]\n The analysis of the philosophy (if it may be so called) of the Bafiote\n which I have tried to summarize above is by Dr Pechu\u00ebl-Loesche, the\n most acute and profound of enquirers into the civilization and\n mentality of the peoples of Loango, and will be found in his\n _Volksk._, chaps. iii. and iv.\n\n [48.2]\n De Groot, _Rel. Syst._, iv. chap. i.\n\n [48.3]\n Giran, 21 _sqq._\n\n [48.4]\n Batchelor, _Encyc. Rel._, i. 239, 240 (_cf. Id._, _Ainu F. L._, 580);\n Aston, _Shinto_, 7 _sqq._\n\n [50.1]\n Codrington, 118 _sqq._\n\n [51.1]\n Is this really the original belief? Dr Marett cites Dr Seligmann\u2019s\n (verbal?) authority for the statement that in New Guinea (among the\n tribes of Melanesian culture and descent?) \u201ca yam-stone would be\n held capable of making the yams grow miraculously, quite apart from\n the agency of spirits\u201d (_Arch. Rel._, xii. 190).\n\n [51.2]\n Codrington, 120, 191.\n\n [51.3]\n Codrington, 124-5. Father Joseph Meier denies that the Melanesian\n population of the Gazelle Peninsula of New Britain possesses the\n concept of _mana_ in the sense of a universal impersonal, magical\n power. Yet he goes on to say: \u201cThe sorcerer (_Zauberer_) himself\n derives the inherent power of his spells (_Zauber-mitteln_) from two\n different sources of energy. First, he relies on the might of the\n spirits to whom he is indebted for his spells, or on the might of his\n forefathers who have practised magic before him, and have handed down\n to him their spells. In his incantation therefore the magician\n (_Hexenmeister_) will always name a spirit, or the name of a deceased\n sorcerer, or at least silently presume his assistance. A second source\n of energy for the sorcerer is his own soul. By associating this with\n natural objects he enhances their powers. Everything the sorcerer does\n he conceives under the aspect of these two sources of energy. The\n originator of an enchantment (_Zauberei_)--be it an unembodied spirit,\n or the ghost of a deceased person, or a spirit residing in a living\n being (for example, a bird)--operates in his spell and makes it always\n and everywhere effective. Or else only the sorcerer\u2019s own soul is\n considered for magical purposes. Beyond this there is no other\n power\u201d (_Anthropos_, viii. 8, 9). This seems to resemble the concept\n of _mana_, as set forth by Dr Codrington. Later Father Meier remarks:\n \u201cThe enquiry into the witchcraft (_Zauberwesen_) of the\n coast-dwellers of the Gazelle Peninsula is not yet closed. So far we\n only know a small fragment of all their enchantments\u201d (_ibid._, 11).\n Our knowledge of the social elements and cultural history of Melanesia\n as a whole, and of New Britain in particular, is still very imperfect.\n\n [54.1]\n E. Tregear, _The Maori-Polynesian Comparative Dictionary_, Wellington,\n N.Z., 1891, 203-6, _s.vv._ _Cf._ Marett, _Trans. Oxford Cong._, i. 48\n _sqq._ It is perhaps worth while to note \u201cthat the Samoan New\n Testament was translated from the Greek and uses _mana_ as the\n equivalent of the Greek \u03b4\u03cd\u03bd\u03b1\u03bc\u03b9\u03c2, whilst _pule_ is used for the Greek\n \u1f10\u03be\u03bf\u03c5\u03c3\u03af\u03b1\u201d (Haddon, _Torres Str. Rep._, v. 329, quoting communication\n from S. H. Ray).\n\n [55.1]\n Ellis, _Polyn. Res._, iii. 108. A specimen of the girdle was sent by\n John Williams, the missionary afterwards killed at Eramanga, to\n England, probably to the London Missionary Society. See his _Miss.\n Enterprises_, 144.\n\n [56.1]\n Ellis, _op. cit._, i. 338.\n\n [57.1]\n Taylor, 164 _sqq._\n\n [58.1]\n De Acosta, 378.\n\n [58.2]\n S\u00e9billot, _F. L. France_, ii. 235.\n\n [58.3]\n Ploss, _Weib_, i. 504, quoting Bonnem\u00e8re, but as usual without the\n exact reference.\n\n [59.1]\n Seligmann, _Veddas_, 207.\n\n [60.1]\n Tozer, i. 216.\n\n [60.2]\n Dr M. Hoefler, _Am Urquell_, ii. 101.\n\n [60.3]\n Rev. H. E. Mabille, _Journ. Afr. Soc._, v. 352.\n\n [62.1]\n Van Gennep, _Tabou_, 184.\n\n [62.2]\n Turner, _Samoa_, 186. Compare a number of similar taboos on the\n previous and subsequent pages.\n\n [62.3]\n Codrington, 215.\n\n [63.1]\n W. Bogoras, _Amer. Anthr._, N.S., iii. 97.\n\n [64.1]\n See _Golden Bough_3, _passim_, especially the volume on Taboo. It is\n needless to say that Professor Frazer does not write from the point of\n view here adopted, and that his interpretations frequently diverge\n from those which I should be inclined to.\n\n [65.1]\n _F. L._, xii. 186. Elsewhere Mr Weeks says: \u201cNo stigma attaches to\n the man who is proved guilty [of witchcraft] by the ordeal, for \u2018one\n can have witchcraft without knowing it\u2019\u201d (_Cannibals_, 189).\n Presumably _likundu_ is here included under the general term of\n witchcraft. In another place he says: \u201cThe general belief is that\n only one in the family can bewitch a member of the family\u201d (_ibid._,\n 311). Hence the evil influence of the possessor of _likundu_ extends\n no further.\n\n [67.1]\n Jevons, _Introd._, 178, 7, 390 _sqq._\n\n [67.2]\n Tylor, _Prim. Cul._, i. 383.\n\n [67.3]\n Avebury, _Marriage_, 142. I cannot find that he commits himself to a\n definition of religion, though his view may perhaps be inferred from\n the above quotation (_cf._ his _Origin of Civilization_, 205 _sqq._).\n\n [68.1]\n Frazer, _Magic Art_, i. 222, 223.\n\n [68.2]\n Durkheim, _Formes \u00c9l\u00e9mentaires_, 65. M. Salomon Reinach in a recent\n brilliant work on the history of religions proposes as a definition:\n \u201cAn assemblage (_ensemble_) of scruples which stand in the way of\n the free exercise of our faculties.\u201d This reduces religion to a\n system of taboos. But he subsequently qualifies it by saying:\n \u201cAnimism on one side, taboos on the other, these are the essential\n factors of religions\u201d (_Orpheus_, 4, 10). Thus qualified, however,\n it excludes Buddhism; and with or without the qualification it does\n not express the social side of religion. M. Reinach is quite conscious\n of these omissions. They are an illustration of the extreme difficulty\n found by the most able and learned enquirers in formulating an\n adequate definition of religion, a definition at once all-embracing\n and exact.\n\n [69.1]\n Durkheim, 323.\n\n [69.2]\n Frazer, _Magic Art_, i. 220.\n\n [70.1]\n Frazer, _op. cit._, 52.\n\n [70.2]\n _Ibid._, 221, 237 _sqq._\n\n [70.3]\n _Ibid._, 233. Frazer has worked out the theory more completely than\n anyone else; but it has been more or less anticipated, or shared, by\n others, such as Sir Edward Tylor, Sir Alfred Lyall, and Professor\n Jevons.\n\n [72.1]\n The above is a brief summary (partly borrowed from my review in _F.\n L._, xv. 359) of a portion of the argument elaborated by MM. Hubert\n and Mauss in their \u201cEsquisse d\u2019une Th\u00e9orie G\u00e9n\u00e9rale de la\n Magie,\u201d _L\u2019Ann\u00e9e Soc._, vii. 1-146.\n\n [76.1]\n Durkheim, _op. cit._, 61.\n\n [77.1]\n Spencer and Gillen, _C. T._, 549, 476.\n\n [77.2]\n _Ante_, p. 50.\n\n [77.3]\n Codrington, 133. Another example is cited subsequently, p. 144, from\n Borneo.\n\n [78.1]\n Weeks, 189; see _ante_, p. 65 note.\n\n [78.2]\n Junod, _S. A. Tribe_, ii. 467; i. 441.\n\n [78.3]\n Durkheim, _op. cit._, 63 note.\n\n [79.1]\n All this indictment holds good in a lesser degree of the witch-hunts\n of Europe and New England.\n\n [80.1]\n Gregor, 197.\n\n [80.2]\n This, however, is not exactly what Marillier says. \u201cA \u2018natural\u2019\n act (and that is its sole difference from a magical act) only reaches\n bodies, or at least it only reaches the soul through the object it\n animates. A magical practice, which may, however, be a purely material\n act, acts in some way from within outwards (_agit en quelque sorte du\n dedans au dehors_); it only kills or fecundates the man, animal, or\n plant to which it is applied, by exercising first of all its\n beneficent or calamitous action on the soul, which, like that of the\n sorcerer, is the principle of his life\u201d (_Rev. Hist. Rel._, xxxvi.\n 343).\n\n [80.3]\n Doutt\u00e9, 328, 330.\n\n [81.1]\n Doutt\u00e9, 340, 334, 343, 338. Compare what the schoolboy called their\n \u201cconjuring tricks,\u201d performed before Pharaoh by Moses and Aaron,\n and by the magicians (Ex. vii. 8 _sqq._).\n\n [82.1]\n Marett, _Anthrop._, 209. Dr Marett might have omitted the words \u201cof\n evil\u201d after \u201csupernormal powers.\u201d They do not strengthen his\n argument. In savage communities a hard and fast line is not usually\n drawn between supernormal powers of evil and supernormal powers of\n good.\n\n [82.2]\n _Ibid._, 210.\n\n [83.1]\n Marett, _Anthrop._, 211.\n\n [84.1]\n P. E. Goddard, _Univ. Cal. Pub._, i. 87.\n\n [84.2]\n Marett, _Anthrop._, 213.\n\n [84.3]\n Westermarck, _Ceremonies_, 67 note, quoting Destaing.\n\n [85.1]\n Reference may be made here to Mr Ernest Crawley, who writes like\n Professor Jevons from a distinctly theological standpoint. I can find\n no formal definition of religion in his book on the subject. He says:\n \u201cThe vital instinct, the feeling of life, the will to live, the\n instinct to preserve it, is the source of, or rather is identical\n with, the religious impulse, and is the origin of religion\u201d (_Tree\n of Life_, 214). But, as Professor Leuba has rightly observed, \u201cthe\n love and lust of life is the source of all human conduct and not of\n religion alone\u201d (_Psychol. Study_, 48). Elsewhere Mr Crawley\n observes that religion is not a department, like law or science,\n having a special subject-matter; it is \u201ca tone or spirit.\u201d It\n \u201cchiefly concerns itself with elemental interests--life and death,\n birth and marriage are typical cases\u201d (_op. cit._, 204 _sq._). Nor\n can I find any definition of magic, though he maintains in opposition\n to Professor Frazer that \u201cit seems impossible to separate magic and\n religion in their early forms.\u201d \u201cIndeed,\u201d he adds, \u201cthe\n practical meaning of magic, when worked in connection with religion,\n is control of the supernatural, which is thus not superior to man\u201d\n (186). What is magic when not \u201cworked in connection with\n religion\u201d? He identifies _mana_ with the force \u201cwhich underlies\n magical processes generally,\u201d but apparently not religious\n processes. A religious process he defines as \u201cthat of making a thing\n sacred\u201d (231 _sq._). He opposes magic to sacredness. \u201cSacredness\n is a result of the application of religious impulse and of nothing\n else\u201d (208 _sq._). Compare Professor Durkheim\u2019s definition of\n religion (_supra_, p. 68). Mr Crawley takes insufficient account of\n the social aspect of religion.\n\n [87.1]\n Southey, _The Curse of Kehama_, preface.\n\n [87.2]\n Augustine, _Civ. Dei_, x. 11, citing Porphyry.\n\n [91.1]\n Marett, _Threshold_, 44 _sqq._\n\n [92.1]\n J. M. M. van der Burgt, 55.\n\n [92.2]\n Hewitt, _Am. Anthr._, N.S., iv., 40.\n\n [93.1]\n E. H. Man, _J. A. I._, xii. 161, 163, 353, etc.\n\n [95.1]\n Codrington, 192.\n\n [98.1]\n The primary authority on the Arunta and neighbouring tribes is Messrs\n Spencer and Gillen, _C. T._ and _N. T._, and _Rep. Horn Exped._, but\n Strehlow\u2019s researches (_Aranda- und Loritja-st\u00e4mme_) are important.\n The results of the latter are divergent to some extent from those of\n the former, but in most respects are not irreconcilable. See, _e.g._,\n Professor Durkheim\u2019s valuable discussion of the different versions\n of reincarnation, _op. cit._, 357 _sqq._ I have stated above in a\n summary manner what seems to be the result of the criticism of both\n authorities.\n\n [99.1]\n Spencer and Gillen, _N. T._, 498; Strehlow, ii. 1. _Cf._ _Rep. Horn\n Exped._, iv. 183.\n\n [99.2]\n Strehlow, i. 1.\n\n [100.1]\n Spencer and Gillen, _N. T._, 227, 232, 238.\n\n [100.2]\n _Ibid._, 227.\n\n [100.3]\n _Ibid._, 252.\n\n [101.1]\n For the Mongolian practice see _Amer. Anthr._, N.S., xv. 370. The\n Pueblo Indian practice has been recorded by every scientific enquirer\n among the tribes.\n\n [102.1]\n Spencer and Gillen, _C. T._, 249. Note also the threat which follows.\n\n [102.2]\n M. Durkheim contends, and I think with justice, that the association\n of the _churinga_ with individual ancestors, and therefore with their\n descendants, or rather reincarnations, is secondary (_op. cit._, 173).\n But _cf._ Spencer and Gillen, _N. T._, 281.\n\n [102.3]\n Strehlow, ii. 78. He resisted the temptation and avoided the mistake\n made so often by missionaries of translating by native words Christian\n terms of fundamentally different content.\n\n [103.1]\n Spencer and Gillen, _N. T._, 259 _sqq._\n\n [103.2]\n _Ibid._, 293.\n\n [104.1]\n Spencer and Gillen, _C. T._, chaps. v. and vi. _passim_; _N. T._,\n chap. viii. _passim_; Strehlow, ii. 75 _sqq._\n\n [105.1]\n Strehlow, iii. 6.\n\n [105.2]\n Spencer and Gillen, _C. T._, chap. xvi.; _N. T._, chap. xv.; _Rep.\n Horn Exped._, 180.\n\n [106.1]\n Spencer and Gillen, _C. T._, 534, 553. _Cf._ 480, 538.\n\n [107.1]\n _Arch. Rel._, viii. 463, 467. Compare the account of the initiation by\n the Devil of a Lapp wizard quoted from Torn\u00e6us, Scheffer, 136.\n\n [107.2]\n _Jesup. Exped._, vi. 47.\n\n [109.1]\n Junod, _S. A. Tribe_, ii. 450, 471, 473. M. Junod\u2019s work is\n concerned with the Thonga, but it is true in general terms of other\n tribes.\n\n [109.2]\n Merensky, 135; Shooter, 191; Callaway, _Rel. Syst._, 259 _sqq._\n\n [109.3]\n Johnston, _Grenfell_, ii. 659 note, quoting Rev. W. H. Stapleton. He\n is obviously reporting a statement by a native.\n\n [110.1]\n Jones, _Ojebway_, 269.\n\n [110.2]\n A. L. Kroeber, _Univ. Cal. Pub._, iv. 328.\n\n [110.3]\n G. A. Dorsey, _Trad. Skidi Pawnee_, 185, 189, 194, 199, 206, 210, 219,\n 221, 231.\n\n [110.4]\n Roth, _Sarawak_, i. 266.\n\n [111.1]\n Skeat, _Magic_, 60.\n\n [113.1]\n Seligmann, _Veddas_, 128 _sqq._, 190 _sqq._, 207. See _supra_, p. 59.\n\n [114.1]\n E. H. Man, _J. A. I._, xii. 96.\n\n [115.1]\n Kolben, 97.\n\n [116.1]\n Dorsey, _Wichita_, 99.\n\n [116.2]\n _R. B. E._, xxvii. 197.\n\n [117.1]\n There appears to be no detailed account of the Buffalo Dance of the\n Pawnees. See Dorsey, _Skidi Pawnees_, xxi. 46; Grinnell, 369. The\n latest stage, perhaps contaminated with European notions, is in part\n described, _Id._, 270.\n\n [121.1]\n W. J. M\u2018Gee, _R. B. E._, xvii. 168* _sqq._\n\n [121.2]\n Durkheim, 295.\n\n [124.1]\n Durkheim, 305.\n\n [124.2]\n _Ibid._, 134, 135.\n\n [124.3]\n _Ibid._, 343, 355, 378.\n\n [125.1]\n Seligmann, 30, 126, 130, 170 _sqq._, 149.\n\n [126.1]\n _Cens. Ind. Rep._, 1901, iii. 62. _Cf._ the papers by E. H. Man, _J.\n A. I._, xii.\n\n [127.1]\n Koch-Gr\u00fcnberg, _passim_; von den Steinen, _passim_, especially 350\n _sqq._\n\n [130.1]\n Westermarck, _Moral Ideas_, ii. 585.\n\n [132.1]\n Marten, _Ind. Cens. Rep._, 1911, x. 80.\n\n [132.2]\n Laws of Manu, _Sac. Bks._, xxv. 5. I am indebted for this reference\n and the further explanation above to my friend Mr William Crooke.\n\n [132.3]\n _Supra_, p. 62.\n\n [132.4]\n Dr Frazer, _Psyche\u2019s Task_, 25 _sqq._, has made a collection of\n these rites and signs. See also Westermarck, _Moral Ideas_, ii. 63\n _sqq._\n\n [133.1]\n F. B. Jevons, _Oxford Cong. Rep._, ii. 131; _Id._, Gr\u00e6co-Italian\n Magic, _Anthrop. Class._, 106. See also Rouse, _Greek V. O._, 337.\n\n [133.2]\n I described one such leaden tablet, found at Dymock, Gloucestershire,\n in _Reliquary_, N.S., iii. 140. Another was subsequently found at\n Lincoln\u2019s Inn, and reported on by Mr W. Paley Baildon to the Society\n of Antiquaries (_Proc. Soc. Anti._, 2nd ser., xviii. 141). Others have\n also been found elsewhere, among them two on Gatherley Moor in\n Yorkshire. If the identification of the persons against whom the\n tablets on Gatherley Moor and at Lincoln\u2019s Inn were directed be\n conclusively established, they antedate by more than half a century\n the translation above referred to of Agrippa\u2019s book. This of course\n is by no means impossible, or indeed improbable, for the practitioners\n of occult science in the reign of Queen Elizabeth were frequently men\n of learning.\n\n [134.1]\n _Fasc. Malay_, ii. 41.\n\n [135.1]\n Alan H. Gardiner, _Oxford Cong. Rep._, i. 210.\n\n [135.2]\n Budge, _Arch\u00e6ologia_, lii. 421 _sqq._, transliterating, translating,\n and commenting on a papyrus in the British Museum, which belonged to a\n priest of Ra about the year B.C. 305, and contains the ritual for the\n purpose.\n\n [135.3]\n Wiedemann, 94.\n\n [136.1]\n Wiedemann, 279.\n\n [136.2]\n _Ibid._, 99.\n\n [136.3]\n Budge, _Arch\u00e6ologia_, lii. 425, 440, 539 _sqq._ The Egyptian gods\n merged into one another like the dissolving pictures of a lantern.\n This was probably in part the result of the union in one kingdom of a\n number of petty states, which were centres of worship of disparate\n though cognate divinities, and the consequent effort to synthesize\n these divinities and their worship, and in part the issue of\n philosophical speculation, itself doubtless influenced by political\n events.\n\n [136.4]\n Wiedemann, 54; Budge, _Egypt. Magic_, 137. Dr Frazer\u2019s version,\n _Taboo_, 387, is formed on a comparison of these and other texts.\n\n [137.1]\n Wiedemann, 273. More personal threats are often employed. See, for\n examples, _Arch. Rel._, xvi. 85.\n\n [137.2]\n Plato, _Rep._, ii. 364.\n\n [137.3]\n There are of course plenty of magical Greek texts, but they are much\n later. The papyri unearthed in such numbers during recent years\n contain many; and they often imply that the deity invoked is compelled\n to perform his votary\u2019s wishes. He is addressed in terms of command,\n adjured by names of power and bidden to be quick about his work. Such\n spells, however, are not purely Greek. They are produced under foreign\n influence, and the gods or demons invoked bear alien names. The texts\n are frequently _defixiones_. Simaitha\u2019s incantation in the second\n idyll of Theocritus, so far as it is addressed to the Moon, to Hecate\n or Artemis, is not couched in terms of command. The goddesses, if they\n grant the damsel\u2019s desires, are accomplices who cannot plead _vis\n major_. Yet threats and insults to the gods were, it seems, sometimes\n made use of, probably in the hope of driving them by taunts to do what\n was wanted (see below, p. 190). The dividing line here is very\n thin.\n\n [139.1]\n Hodson, _Naga_, 139, 141; _cf._ 102, 164.\n\n [139.2]\n Parker, _Tales_, i. 97.\n\n [140.1]\n Brett, _Ind. Tribes_, 401.\n\n [140.2]\n _Anthropos_, viii. 3. For the belief in and cult of the Kaya, see\n _ibid._, iii. 1005; and of the Inal, _ibid._, v. 95.\n\n [140.3]\n Shakespear, _Lushai_, 109 (_cf._ 61).\n\n [141.1]\n W. G. Aston, _F. L._, xxiii. 187 _sq._\n\n [141.2]\n Wiedemann, 227. On Thoth as magician and the words of power which he\n uttered and wrote down compare Budge, _Egypt. Magic_, 128 _sqq._\n\n [142.1]\n Morris, _Heimskringla_, i. 18, 19.\n\n [143.1]\n Levit. xvi. 8. On the Scapegoat in general see Dr Frazer\u2019s volume\n bearing that title.\n\n [144.1]\n Hose, ii. 29 note.\n\n [145.1]\n Hose, 56, 117.\n\n [146.1]\n Rivers, _Todas_, 257, 450. For an alternative translation of the third\n clause of the spell, see pp. 195, 271. For another form of the spell,\n see p. 259.\n\n [147.1]\n J. H. Weeks, _J. A. I._, xl. 377, 378.\n\n [148.1]\n J. H. Weeks, _J. A. I._, xl. 383. Surely in the face of these examples\n Mr Weeks\u2019 statement--\u201cNor did we find any form of prayer among\n them, no worship and no sacrifices\u201d (_ibid._, 376)--needs some\n qualification. As to the _mongoli_, see _ibid._, 368.\n\n [149.1]\n Werner, 56, 76.\n\n [151.1]\n A. M. Tozzer, _Putnam Vol._, 304. _Cf._ Matthews, _Navaho Leg._, 40.\n\n [151.2]\n Tozzer, _op. cit._, 303. On the rites and beliefs of the Dene, see\n Father Jett\u00e9, _J. A. I._, xxxvii. 157 _sqq._\n\n [154.1]\n Exod. xxii. 18.\n\n [154.2]\n Deut. xviii. 9 _sqq._\n\n [154.3]\n Num. v. 11 _sqq._\n\n [155.1]\n Hos. iii. 4, 5. _Cf._ T. W. Davies, _Magic_, 36; and _Encyc. Bibl._,\n _s.v._\n\n [159.1]\n Weeks 177.\n\n [161.1]\n \u00c6lian, _Var. Hist._, xii. 23. Philo (_Dreams_, ii. 17) attributes the\n same practice to the Germans.\n\n [161.2]\n O\u2019Grady, ii. 518. Professor Whitley Stokes also gives it, _F. L._,\n iv. 488, from an Edinburgh MS. I quote his translation, which is to\n the same effect as Mr O\u2019Grady\u2019s.\n\n [162.1]\n Skeat, _Magic_, 10.\n\n [163.1]\n Vinson, 20. According to this story there were two cabin-boys, one of\n whom overheard the plot and the other struck the blow, but this\n appears to be a literary embellishment.\n\n [163.2]\n Strackerjan, i. 324, 325; Hansen, 38. The Norse tale (by Asbjoernsen)\n is referred to, _M\u00e9lusine_, ii. 201. I have not seen it. Analogous\n tale in Ireland, _Ant._, xlv. 371.\n\n [163.3]\n _Tylor Essays_, 138. Roscher (_Ephialtes_, 38) thinks it was \u201ca\n quite obvious nightmare.\u201d\n\n [164.1]\n Gregor, 66.\n\n [164.2]\n Gregor, _loc. cit._\n\n [166.1]\n Thorpe, _N. Myth._, ii. 78.\n\n [167.1]\n Hibbert, _A Description of the Shetland Islands_ (Edinburgh, 1822),\n 569; _Zeits. des Ver._, ii. 15, 17; Rogers, 218; Lehmann-Filh\u00e9s, ii.\n 16; Maurer, 173.\n\n [168.1]\n Natesa Sastri, 148.\n\n [168.2]\n _Bibl. Trad. Pop. Espan._, i. 187\n\n [168.3]\n Castr\u00e9n, 172.\n\n [168.4]\n Boas, _Ind. Sagen_, 86.\n\n [169.1]\n Miller, _Scenes and Leg._, 287.\n\n [170.1]\n Shakespear, _Lushei_, 66.\n\n [170.2]\n Grimm, _Teut. Myth._, iii. 924.\n\n [171.1]\n Ovid, _Fasti_, iii. 285.\n\n [171.2]\n Pausanias, i. 4, 5; Ovid, _Metam._, xi. 90; Herod., viii. 138; \u00c6lian,\n _Var. Hist._, iii. 18.\n\n [171.3]\n _Iliad_, v. 370 _sqq._\n\n [172.1]\n _R. E. E. S._, i. 338.\n\n [172.2]\n As an example the Nattu Malayans of Cochin in the south of India may\n be cited. \u201cWhen questioned as to their ideas of gods, they say that\n they are like men themselves, but invisible, yet all-powerful\u201d\n (Anantha Krishna, i. 34).\n\n [173.1]\n Herod., ii. 122. Gods, like men, were addicted to gambling. According\n to Plutarch (_De Iside_), Hermes in Egyptian legend played with the\n moon and won the seventieth part of each of her light periods,\n wherewith he made the last five days of the year and added them to the\n calendar.\n\n [173.2]\n Herod., vii. 35.\n\n [173.3]\n B\u00e9renger-Feraud, _Superst._, i. 473. The author has collected in the\n chapter from which this is cited numerous other instances of the\n punishment of the recalcitrant god.\n\n [173.4]\n Herod., ii. 111.\n\n [174.1]\n Williams, _Burmah_, 91.\n\n [174.2]\n _Ind. Cens. Rep._, 1911, x. 61.\n\n [174.3]\n Herod., iv. 94. Rohde (_Psyche_, ii. 28 note) suggests that the\n personage against whom the arrows and threats were aimed was not\n strictly a god, but an evil spirit or a magician. This, however, does\n not follow. Philo (_l.c._) states that Xerxes, when his bridge across\n the Hellespont was destroyed, aimed his arrows at the sun, and regards\n the action with pious horror as a symptom of insanity.\n\n [175.1]\n Herod., iv. 184.\n\n [175.2]\n _J. A. I._, xxxvi. 51.\n\n [175.3]\n Moffat, 261, 265.\n\n [175.4]\n Chapman, i. 213. The word translated by Chapman as \u201cGod\u201d is\n doubtless Morimo. _Cf._ _ibid._, 46, \u201cAll Bechuanas believe in God\n (Morimo), whom they laud or execrate as good or bad luck attends\n them.\u201d\n\n [176.1]\n Callaway, _Rel. Syst._, 404.\n\n [176.2]\n Hahn, 46, 51, 59, 94. _Cf._ 99, where the practice of the Urjangkut, a\n tribe of Black Tartars, to scold the thunder and lightning is cited\n from Bastian.\n\n [177.1]\n Lloyd, 397. According to another account, \u201cwhen it thunders the\n Bushmen are very angry and curse bitterly, thinking that the storm is\n occasioned by some evil being\u201d (Thunberg, ii., 163).\n\n [177.2]\n Hollis, _Nandi_, 9, 99.\n\n [177.3]\n _J. A. I._, xliii. 49.\n\n [177.4]\n _Jes. Rel._, xii. 25.\n\n [177.5]\n J. A. Mason, _Univ. Cal. Pub._, x. 185.\n\n [178.1]\n Lozano, _Desc. Chorographica del Gran Chaco_ (1733), 71, quoted Payne,\n i. 391 note.\n\n [178.2]\n Payne, _l.c._\n\n [178.3]\n _Int. Arch._, Suppl., xiii. 88.\n\n [179.1]\n Neuhauss, iii. 157. I may refer also to the account of a young Kayan\n brave in Borneo taking his arms and sallying forth to fight the\n Thunder-god (_Int. Arch._, xxi. 139). But further examples are\n unnecessary.\n\n [180.1]\n Frazer, _Magic Art_, i. 327 _sqq._\n\n [180.2]\n Von Alpenburg, 262, 365. Many such knives are to be found in\n peasants\u2019 houses in the Lower Inn valley. In the Netherlands these\n whirlwinds are held to be \u201cthe Travailing Mother,\u201d who seems to be\n a woman dead in childbirth unconfessed of mortal sin. She cannot be\n received into heaven. She is equally denied a place in hell, since her\n sufferings and death have already provided a sufficient penance. Hence\n she wanders about, seeking an abiding-place (Wolf, _Niederl. Sag._,\n 616). Women who die in childbirth are commonly considered very\n dangerous ghosts. See below, p. 213.\n\n [181.1]\n Farnell, _Evol._, 43. _Cf._ Miss Harrison, _Prolegomena_, 101.\n\n [181.2]\n I have discussed similar practices, _Prim. Pat._, i. 102. See also\n Mannhardt, _Myth. Forsch._, 113 _sqq._; Frazer, _Scapegoat_, 255.\n These contain a large collection of examples, which put the magical\n and purificatory purpose beyond doubt.\n\n [182.1]\n _M\u00e9lusine_, ii. 187, quoting the passage.\n\n [182.2]\n _Journ. Am. F. L._, xxiii. 416, 418.\n\n [182.3]\n Lumholtz, ii. 342, 422.\n\n [183.1]\n _Rev. Trad. Pop._, xi. 663. V\u00e2lmiki, the Indian epic poet, author of\n the _R\u00e1m\u00e1yana_, is said to have owed his birth to a similar blunder\n by a saint who was the object of prayers by two sisters-in-law, and\n mistook the maiden for the married woman (Harikishan Kaul, _Ind. Cens.\n Rep._, 1911, xiv. 131, citing Vaman Shiva Ram Apte\u2019s _Sanskrit\n Dictionary_).\n\n [184.1]\n Turner, _R. B. E._, xi. 194.\n\n [184.2]\n M. Friedrich, _Anthropos_, ii. 101.\n\n [185.1]\n _Anthropos_, vii. 74.\n\n [185.2]\n Thurston, _Castes_, vi. 85.\n\n [186.1]\n Dr H. ten Kate, _Anthropos_, vii. 396. _Cf._ Aston, _Shinto_, 189.\n\n [186.2]\n Wiedemann, _op. cit._, 178. B\u00e9renger-Feraud, _Superst._, i. 451\n _sqq._, gives a long list of examples of punishments inflicted on the\n obdurate divinity. See also Frazer, _Magic Art_, i. 296; Tylor, _Prim.\n Cul._, ii. 155-7, and the numerous authorities there referred to;\n Grimm, _Teut. Myth._, ii. 767 note.\n\n [187.1]\n _F. L._, viii. 349.\n\n [187.2]\n Weeks, 271.\n\n [187.3]\n Frazer, _Scapegoat_, _passim._\n\n [188.1]\n Morris, _Ere_, 151.\n\n [190.1]\n Junod, _S. A. Tribe_, ii. 368, 384. If Lactantius and the other\n writers of antiquity who have mentioned the sacrifice to Hercules\n referred to by Dr Frazer (_Magic Art_, i. 281) had given us the exact\n words and occasion of the rite, we might perhaps find a similar\n explanation for it. Both that and the rite addressed at Cranganore in\n Southern India (_ibid._, 280) to the goddess Bhagavati are at present\n very obscure.\n\n [191.1]\n Anantha Krishna, i. 53, 76.\n\n [191.2]\n Temple, _Leg. Panj._, ii. 425. _Cf._ _F. L._, x. 406.\n\n [191.3]\n Grimm, _Teut. Myth._, i. 20, where other instances are also cited.\n\n [192.1]\n Rev. J. H. Weeks, _J. A. I._, xxxix. 134, reproduced in the same\n author\u2019s _Congo Cannibals_, 176.\n\n [194.1]\n Plutarch, _De Iside_. Wiedemann (213) suggests that the Greeks\n misunderstood the myth. But the text of the hymn which he quotes\n appears to prove the accuracy of Plutarch\u2019s interpretation. This is\n in effect the view taken by Dr Wallis Budge (_Gods_, i. 487).\n Harpocrates (Heru-p-khart) is Horus the younger.\n\n [195.1]\n De Groot, _Rel. Syst._, iv. 429, 421, 342; Giles, ii. 276.\n\n [196.1]\n Dalton, 232.\n\n [197.1]\n _N. Ind. N. and Q._, iii. 97, par. 205.\n\n [197.2]\n J\u00fclg, 96 (Story No. 9). Compare children\u2019s tales from various parts\n of India, where the hero or heroine\u2019s life is dependent on a\n necklace which is stolen. The owner of the necklace dies when it is\n worn by the thief, and revives when it is taken off. The birth of a\n child follows visits by the other spouse. By the child\u2019s help the\n necklace is recovered, and permanent life is thus restored to the\n half-dead, half-living hero or heroine (Frere, 230 (Story No. 20);\n Day, 1 (Story No. 1); Steel and Temple, 85).\n\n [197.3]\n Kruijt, 398, 509; _cf._ 230.\n\n [198.1]\n Petitot, 262.\n\n [199.1]\n Von Wlislocki, _Volksdicht._, 283.\n\n [199.2]\n Maurer, 300 (_cf._ 192). A Protestant version is given,\n Lehmann-Filh\u00e9s, i. 132.\n\n [200.1]\n Le Braz, 321, Story No. 60.\n\n [201.1]\n Boas, _Ind. Sag._, 267. Compare a curious Tlingit story of a girl who\n married a dead man (ghost), who in consequence came to life again\n (Swanton, _Tlingit Myths_, 247).\n\n [202.1]\n The ghostly visitant might be of either sex, though the masculine was\n perhaps more common. The visit was generally attended in either case\n with fatal effects. See below as to _Lami\u00e6_.\n\n [203.1]\n Herodotus, vi. 68, 69.\n\n [203.2]\n Augustine, _Civ. Dei_, xv. 23.\n\n [203.3]\n Malleolus, De Credul. D\u00e6mon. adhibenda, _Malleus Maleficarum_\n (Frankfurt, 1582), 428. See also Bodin, _De Magorum D\u00e6monomania_\n (Frankfurt, 1603), ii. 7. By this time, however, there began to be\n sceptics. _Cf._ Wierus, _De Pr\u00e6stigiis D\u00e6monum_ (Basel, 1577), 358;\n Ulr. Molitor, De Pythonicis Mulieribus, _Malleus Mal._, 83. The\n extensive information possessed for many centuries by these learned\n men was not limited to the _incubus_. There were also corresponding\n female demons commonly known as _Succubi_, or _Lami\u00e6_, whose ravages\n were almost equally great. Awful tales were related by way of warning\n against their temptation. Compare the _putiana_ of the Moluccas, cited\n below. See also Lecky, _Rationalism_, i. 26 note. Among the ancient\n Assyrians and the modern Arabs the possibility of cohabitation by a\n man with a spirit or non-human supernatural being, who may even bear\n him children, was and is believed. But they are very jealous (_Encyc.\n Rel._, iv. 571; _F. L._, xi. 388).\n\n [204.1]\n Strausz, 454.\n\n [204.2]\n Bartels, quoting Wladimir Bugiel, _Zeit. des Vereins_, x. 121.\n Apparently the throwing of the poppy-seed imposed on the ghostly\n visitant the necessity of counting the grains before proceeding to his\n attack. See Andree, i. 81; Wilken, iii. 226 note, citing Mannhardt.\n\n [205.1]\n Scott goes on to refer to the old Scottish ballad of Sweet William\u2019s\n Ghost, founded, like that of B\u00fcrger\u2019s poem, on the same\n superstition. It is reprinted, with an account of the literature on\n the subject, in Child, _Ballads_, ii. 199 _sqq._, 226 _sqq._; v. 293,\n 294.\n\n [205.2]\n Black, 113.\n\n [208.1]\n Maurer, 111.\n\n [208.2]\n For example, the notable case of the foundress of a new and popular\n religion, who was said to be haunted after the manner of Herdis, to\n her great annoyance and terror. But even her deluded followers felt\n bound to draw the line somewhere, and they seem to have drawn it at\n this obsession.\n\n [209.1]\n _Daily Chronicle_, 17th February 1912.\n\n [210.1]\n Among the Ngoulango or Pakhalla of the Ivory Coast a widow carries a\n piece of fetish wood which has the power to cause death to anyone who,\n attempting to approach her, is touched with it (Clozel, 363). It is\n probably effectual also against the ghost.\n\n [210.2]\n _Globus_, lxxii. 22; lxxxi. 190. Compare a custom of the Minas of the\n Slave Coast, Frazer, _J. A. I._, xv. 85 note. The Kagoro of Northern\n Nigeria are also reported to believe in the possibility of sexual\n connection by ghosts with women (_J. A. I._, xlii. 159). Major\n Tremearne marks this belief as doubtful; but it accords with that of\n other peoples. The pungent smoke of red pepper is used in exorcisms by\n the Tigre of Abyssinia (Littmann, 310, 311).\n\n [211.1]\n _Zeits. v. Rechtsw._, xxvii. 85. A widow remains four months in her\n hut, subject to a corresponding taboo. Among the Negroes of Surinam,\n before a widow or widower marries again, an offering of food and drink\n must be made to the ghost in order to obtain permission for the new\n marriage. The new spouse will be considered as belonging, even if not\n actually so belonging, to the family of the deceased. The widow or\n widower may not leave the house for three months, nor do any work\n (_ibid._, 395, 394).\n\n [211.2]\n _Ibid._, xxv. 99 _sqq._\n\n [212.1]\n _Zeits. v. Rechtsw._, xxv. 107. The F\u00f5 Negresses in Togoland also\n fear to be haunted by their deceased husbands, who may kill them, or\n at least drive them mad. But this is said to be only when they have\n neglected them during life (_Anthropos_, vii. 307).\n\n [213.1]\n Pechu\u00ebl-Loesche, 308 _sqq._ The ghosts of women who have died in\n childbed are frequently the objects of dread in areas far apart. The\n belief is common in the East Indian Archipelago (see Wilken, iii. 224\n _sqq._). Such a ghost is called by the inhabitants of the Island of\n Serang, in the Moluccas, _Putiana_. She appears after death as a great\n white bird, or else as a beautiful woman with fragrant clothing, who\n attacks pregnant women, or seduces and then with her long nails\n emasculates men. The most elaborate precautions are taken against her\n (Riedel, 112). Among the Shans of the Upper Chindwin Valley, Burma,\n the husband feigns madness, and undergoes a special purification (_F.\n L._, xxiii. 470).\n\n [214.1]\n Bastian, _San Salvador_, 100. Among the Fans, further to the north, as\n Frazer notes (Balder, ii. 18, quoting W. L. Priklonsky in Bastian\u2019s\n _Allerlei aus Volks- und Menschenkunde_), at the end of the mourning\n ceremonies the widows are purified by passing over a lighted brazier\n and sitting down with leaves still burning under their feet. Their\n heads are then shaved, and they are shared between the heirs of the\n deceased.\n\n [215.1]\n Rev. J. H. Weeks, _Folk-Lore_, xix. 430; xxi. 463.\n\n [216.1]\n Junod, _R. E. S._, i. 162; _id._, _The Fate of the Widows amongst the\n Ba-Ronga_, reprinted from the report of the South African Association\n for the Advancement of Science, 1908 (Grahamstown, Cape Colony, 1909),\n 5. It is fair to say that another and somewhat more popular account by\n M. Junod states: \u201cThe night [after the burial] has come. All the\n widows sleep in the open, their huts, which belonged to the deceased,\n being taboo. If it rains, they sleep in other huts of the village\u201d\n (_S. A. Tribe_, i. 145). I do not know how to reconcile these two\n statements. I have adopted that which M. Junod has twice affirmed, the\n articles in the _R. E. S._ being particularly detailed and precise.\n Among the northern clans of the Thonga, he tells us (_S. A. Tribe_, i.\n 150) that the first night of mourning \u201ceveryone [_scil._ in the\n village] sleeps in the open.\u201d\n\n [217.1]\n C. S. Myers and A. C. Haddon, _Torres Str. Rep._, vi. 153, 158, 160;\n Haddon, _ibid._ (1912), iv. 60. In the Murray Islands \u201cthe ghost of\n a recently deceased person is particularly feared; it haunts the\n neighbourhood for two or three months.\u201d But whether it specially\n attacks the widow the members of the expedition do not seem to have\n learned (_ibid._, vi. 253). The peculiarity of the dress, however,\n speaks for itself.\n\n [218.1]\n Frazer, _Taboo_, 144, citing Father Guis, _Les Missions Catholiques_\n (1902), xxxiv, 208. Among the Abarambo of the Congo basin, north of\n the Wele, the husband or wife disappears in the bush for a time, the\n latter until she finds a new husband. The widow or widower blackens\n the face, binds a cord round the waist, wears nothing but an old\n garment and only eats raw food (Johnston, _Grenfell_, ii. 650).\n\n [219.1]\n Teit, _Jes. Exped._, i. 332. Compare the Bella Coola tale cited above\n (p. 200).\n\n [219.2]\n Peter Martyr, _The Decades of the New World_, in Arber, 100.\n\n [219.3]\n Lumholtz, _Unk. Mexico_, i. 384 _sqq._ Four feasts are given for a\n woman. \u201cShe cannot run so fast, and it is therefore harder to chase\n her off.\u201d\n\n [221.1]\n Hobley, _J. A. I._, xli. 418. Among the neighbouring Atharaka and\n Akamba the duty of sleeping with the widow on the fifth night after\n the death is performed by a brother of the deceased (Champion,\n _ibid._, xlii. 84).\n\n [222.1]\n Stannus, _J. A. I._, xl. 315.\n\n [222.2]\n Compare the accounts of Anyanja funerals in Rattray, 92 (this account\n is by a native), and Werner, 165. In neither of these is the custom in\n question referred to.\n\n [223.1]\n Rattray, 187.\n\n [223.2]\n Georgi, iii. 89. The information is perhaps derived from the old\n travellers, Steller and Krasheninnikoff, both of whom mention the\n custom. See _Jesup. Exped._, vi. 752.\n\n [224.1]\n Pechu\u00ebl-Loesche, 330. _Cf._ Weeks, 300.\n\n [224.2]\n _F. L._, xix. 413.\n\n [225.1]\n Roscoe, _The Baganda_ (London, 1911), 357 n., 48. Of the King of Nri\n in Nigeria we are told: \u201cNo man is allowed to step over his wives\u2019\n legs, nor may anyone commit adultery with them\u201d (Thomas, _Ibo_, i.\n 53). This collocation of prohibitions is hardly accidental.\n\n [225.2]\n Roscoe, 205.\n\n [226.1]\n I suspect that the requirement mentioned by Professor Frazer (_Dying\n God_, 183), of some of the Kaffir tribes, not specified, that the\n first child born after the second marriage of a widow of a man killed\n in battle, whether by her first or her second husband, must be put to\n death, is to be referred to the same cycle of ideas. But I have no\n access to the authority he cites, which is partly unpublished.\n\n [227.1]\n Lieut. Hans Kaufmann, _Mitteil. aus den Deutschen Schutzgeb_. (Berlin,\n 1910), xxiii. 168.\n\n [228.1]\n _Zeits. v. Rechtsw._, xxv. 101, 97, 105.\n\n [228.2]\n Gouldsbury and Sheane, 171.\n\n [229.1]\n Gouldsbury and Sheane, 168 _sqq._\n\n [230.1]\n _Cens. Ind. Rep._, 1901, ix. 208; W. Crooke, _Encyc. Rel._, iv. 603.\n\n [230.2]\n W. Crooke, _l.c._ See _supra_, p. 213 note. _Cf._ also _Cens. Ind.\n Rep._, 1901, xvii. 120.\n\n [230.3]\n _Cens. Ind. Rep._, 1901, xvii. 121.\n\n [231.1]\n _Cens. Ind. Rep._, 1911, xiv. 283.\n\n [231.2]\n _Ibid._, 1901, vi. 421.\n\n [231.3]\n _Ibid._, 1911, xvi. 176.\n\n [236.1]\n _J. A. I._, xv. 73, 98.\n\n [236.2]\n A. L. Kroeber, _Bull. Am. Mus. Nat. History_, xviii. 17.\n\n [236.3]\n Weeks, 320, 321; _J. A. I._, xxxix. 453.\n\n [236.4]\n Batchelor, 106, 167.\n\n [237.1]\n _Anthropos_, i. 172.\n\n [237.2]\n _Int. Arch._, xiii., Suppl., 77.\n\n [237.3]\n Clozel, 363.\n\n [237.4]\n Brough Smyth, ii. 297; _F. L._, xiv. 325, 338.\n\n [237.5]\n Spencer and Gillen, _N. T._, 521.\n\n [238.1]\n Rice, 56, 57.\n\n [238.2]\n Lunet de Lajonqui\u00e8re, 282.\n\n [238.3]\n Herod., ii. 46, 66, 67. They were all no doubt sacred animals.\n\n [238.4]\n T. C. Hodson, _J. A. I._, xxxi. 306.\n\n [239.1]\n Thomas, _Ibo_, i. 45, 39.\n\n [239.2]\n Meyer, 83.\n\n [239.3]\n Pepper and Wilson, _Mem. Am. Anthrop. Assoc._, ii. 313.\n\n [240.1]\n _Bull. de Folklore_, iii. 74.\n\n [241.1]\n Hollis, _Nandi_, 71, 73, 74.\n\n [241.2]\n _Id._, _Masai_, 353.\n\n [242.1]\n Paulitschke, i. 258. _Cf._ the customs of the Kavirondo and Ja-Luo,\n where no painting is recorded (Johnston, _Uganda_, ii. 743, 794).\n\n [242.2]\n Torday and Joyce, _J. A. I._, xxxvi. 50 (_cf._ 41). Professor Frazer\n has mentioned (_Taboo_, 186 n.) some other African cases in which the\n custom of painting the man-slayer may be intended as a disguise. None\n of them seem to be stronger than the above. He goes on to mention the\n Yabim of German New Guinea, among whom the relations of a murdered\n man, on accepting a bloodwit instead of avenging his death, must allow\n the family of the murderer to mark them with chalk on the brow. \u201cIf\n this is not done, the ghost of their murdered kinsman may come and\n trouble them; for example, he may drive away their swine or loosen\n their teeth.\u201d I have no access to the German authority he cites; but\n I may suggest for what it may be worth that the chalk-mark is a\n certificate to the ghost that his relatives have done their duty by\n exacting a fine for his death, and that he has no cause to feel\n aggrieved with them--in fact, that he may feel well satisfied. Dr\n Frazer himself indeed once took this view, or something like it\n (_Tylor Essays_, 107).\n\n [243.1]\n Teit, _Jesup Exped._, ii. 271, 235; i. 357, 332.\n\n [243.2]\n Hill-Tout, Notes on the Skqomic, _Brit. Ass. Reb._, 1900, 478 _sq._\n\n [245.1]\n _Bijdragen_, xxxix. 37. _Cf._ Furness, 91.\n\n [245.2]\n _J. A. I._, xxxvi. 83 note; Hose, i. 271 note.\n\n [245.3]\n Hose, ii. 24.\n\n [246.1]\n Gregor, 199.\n\n [246.2]\n _Anthropos_, iv. 859, 860.\n\n [247.1]\n Hose, ii. 37.\n\n [247.2]\n Frazer, _J. A. I._, xv. 73; _Id._, _Scapegoat_, chaps. i. iii. iv. vi.\n\n [247.3]\n Hutter, 442.\n\n [248.1]\n Koch-Gr\u00fcnberg, i. 130-140.\n\n [249.1]\n De Groot, _Rel. Syst._, vi. 1151.\n\n [250.1]\n _Torres Str. Exped._, v. 256; _cf._ vi. 140 _sqq._\n\n [250.2]\n Owen, _Musquakie_, 81. _Cf._ _Arch. Rel._, xiv. 257.\n\n [251.1]\n Koch-Gr\u00fcnberg, ii. 173.\n\n [251.2]\n Frazer, _J. A. I._, xv. 99, citing Speke, _Journal_, 542.\n\n [251.3]\n Dorsa, 91.\n\n [252.1]\n _Int. Arch._, xiii., Suppl., 76.\n\n [252.2]\n _Rep. B. E._, xviii. 315.\n\n [253.1]\n Frazer, _Balder_, i. 22 _sqq._; Hartland, _Prim. Pat._, i. 89 _sqq._\n\n [253.2]\n Frazer, _l.c._, 45, 46.\n\n [253.3]\n Goddard, _Univ. Cal. Pub._, i. 72.\n\n [254.1]\n Frazer, _Balder_, i. 36.\n\n [255.1]\n Boaz, _Brit. Ass. Rep._, 1890, 575.\n\n [255.2]\n _Tylor Essays_, 110, citing Riedel, _Deutsche Geographische Bl\u00e4tter_,\n x. 286.\n\n [256.1]\n _S. Afr. F. L. Journ._, i. 51.\n\n [256.2]\n See for example the cases collected by Dr Frazer, _J. A. I._, xv. 84,\n 85\n\n [257.1]\n _Supra_, p. 209.\n\n [257.2]\n _Int. Arch._, xiii., Suppl. 72.\n\n [257.3]\n _Jesup. Exped._, vi. 113; Riedel, 307; Clozel, 363.\n\n [257.4]\n _Journ. Am. F. L._, xvi. 137.\n\n [258.1]\n Frobenius, _Heiden-Neger_, 408. Compare the widows\u2019 dance among the\n Wawanga in the Elgon District, British East Africa (_J. A. I._, xliii.\n 36). Among the Ibo-speaking people of Nigeria, at Aguku, the women of\n the quarter in which a death has occurred march round at midnight and\n sing (Thomas, _Ibo_, i. 80).\n\n [259.1]\n Weeks, 104, 321.\n\n [259.2]\n Kruijt, 272.\n\n [259.3]\n Striking examples will be found in von den Steinen, 506; and Smirnov,\n i. 143, 366.\n\n [260.1]\n _Rev. Hist. Rel._, lx. 358.\n\n [260.2]\n Prof. E. Monseur, _ibid._, liii. 290 _sqq._\n\n [261.1]\n Mariner, i. 311.\n\n [261.2]\n Alldridge, 119.\n\n [261.3]\n _J. A. I._, xxxii. 47.\n\n [261.4]\n Brand and Ellis, ii. 187 note.\n\n [261.5]\n Clozel, 179.\n\n [262.1]\n Codrington, 281.\n\n [262.2]\n _Rep. B. E._, v. 111, translating _Jesuit Relations_.\n\n [262.3]\n _Int. Arch._, xiii., Suppl. 72.\n\n [262.4]\n _Globus_, lxxii. 22.\n\n [262.5]\n Spencer and Gillen, _N. T._, 521.\n\n [262.6]\n Deut. xiv. 1.\n\n [262.7]\n _Int. Arch._, xiii., Suppl. 71. Sir Everard im Thurn throws doubt upon\n this as a funeral rite (_F. L._, xii. 141).\n\n [263.1]\n Williams, _Fiji_, 169.\n\n [263.2]\n _Dix-neuvi\u00e8me Si\u00e8cle_, 26th December 1890.\n\n [263.3]\n _Int. Arch._, xiii., Suppl. 72.\n\n [263.4]\n _Ibid._, 77.\n\n [264.1]\n Father Alex. Arnoux, _Anthropos_, vii. 288.\n\n [266.1]\n Herod., i. 199; Strabo, xvi. 1, 20. Further details are supplied by\n the Epistle of Jeremy appended to the apocryphal Book of Baruch.\n\n [267.1]\n Justin, xviii. 5.\n\n [267.2]\n Socrates, _Hist. Eccl._, i. 18.\n\n [267.3]\n Sozomen, _Hist. Eccl._, v. 10.\n\n [267.4]\n \u00c6lian, _Var. Hist._, iv. 1. Dr Farnell (_Greece and Bab._, 271 note,\n 273 _sqq._) considers that the Lydian practice was identical with that\n of the Armenians, referred to just below. This is possible. The lady\n who commemorated at Tralles her dedication for this purpose (see\n below, p. 273) seems to have been a Lydian. In either case it was a\n religious practice, though \u00c6lian does not explicitly say so. His\n account in fact is vague.\n\n [267.5]\n Herod., i. 93.\n\n [267.6]\n Strabo, xi. 14, 16.\n\n [270.1]\n Lucian, _De Dea Syria_, 6.\n\n [271.1]\n Eusebius, _Vita Const._, iii. 58; Frazer, _Adonis_, 1906, 22 note 2. I\n am uncertain how far Professor Frazer adheres to this interpretation\n (see _Adonis_3, 33 note). Eusebius, it is true, was a contemporary;\n but he was a bitter partizan, and wrote in a rhetorical style,\n exaggerating everything that could bring glory to his hero\n Constantine. Socrates, on the other hand, was a lawyer, a man of wider\n and more liberal views, and of fairer judgement. Sozomen too was a\n lawyer. They wrote a century later; but they wrote at Constantinople,\n and probably had access to official documents. To my mind, if their\n statements be irreconcilable, these qualifications entitle them to\n greater credit than the not-too-scrupulous ecclesiastic.\n\n [271.2]\n Socrates, _loc. cit._\n\n [273.1]\n Ramsay, i. 94, 115; Frazer, _Adonis_, 34. Such religious prostitutes\n were, of course, common in Western Asia. _Cf._ Strabo, xii. 3, 36.\n\n [273.2]\n Clement of Alexandria, _Protrept._, ii; Arnobius, _Adv. Gentes_, v.\n 19; Firmicus Maternus, _De Errore Prof. Rel._, x; Apollodorus,\n _Bibl._, iii. 14, 3.\n\n [274.1]\n The service of the _hierai_ is discussed by Ramsay, _op. cit._, 135-7.\n See also below, p. 279.\n\n [274.2]\n On the other hand, it must not be forgotten that at a marriage among\n the Auziles and the Nasamonians the guests who enjoyed the bride\u2019s\n favours were expected to reward her with a gift. Similarly, in modern\n Europe, a gift is also found as the return for a kiss or a dance with\n the bride. I have collected several cases, _Leg. Perseus_, ii. 361,\n 355-8, and many more might be added. Compare the Suahili custom\n mentioned below, p. 277.\n\n [275.1]\n Roth, _Ethnol. Studies_, 174.\n\n [275.2]\n Howitt, 664; _J. A. I._, xx. 87. See also Ploss, i. 308.\n\n [276.1]\n Spencer and Gillen, _C. T._, 92.\n\n [276.2]\n _Globus_, xci. 313.\n\n [277.1]\n Riedel, 138, 137.\n\n [277.2]\n H. Crawford Angus in _Zeits. f. Ethnol._, xxx., Verhandl., 479.\n\n [277.3]\n Duff Macdonald, i. 126; Jas. Macdonald, in _J. A. I._, xxii. 101.\n\n [277.4]\n H. Zache, in _Zeits. f. Ethnol._, xxxi. 76. More than thirty years ago\n a French writer cited by Hertz (_Giftm\u00e4dchen_, 41) reported that\n among the Bafiote of the Loango Coast the girls were led round the\n village and their virginity put up to auction. This looks like a\n puberty rite of a similar character. I have not seen the book,\n however, and think it not impossible that the writer may have\n misunderstood the ceremony usual on emerging from the\n \u201cpaint-house.\u201d\n\n [278.1]\n _J. A. I._, xxxi. 121.\n\n [278.2]\n Ploss, i. 307, 308. Puberty ceremonies to which girls are subjected\n are by no means confined to \u201cinitiation-mysteries\u201d--that is to\n say, collective rites performed on a number of candidates at the same\n time. Several of the above-cited ceremonies are performed on\n individual girls as they reach puberty; and examples might very easily\n be multiplied. In Cyprus, on the other hand, there seem to have been\n collective rites, with the sacrifice of virginity.\n\n [280.1]\n Mannhardt, _Wald- und Feldkulte_, ii. 284; Frazer, _Adonis_, 32 note.\n\n [281.1]\n _Rev. Hist. Rel._, xli. 315.\n\n [282.1]\n Farnell, _Cults_, v. 423.\n\n [283.1]\n We are reminded of the risk incurred in relieving Kamtchadal widows of\n their \u201csins\u201d (_supra_, p. 223). There, however, the Russian\n soldiers who assisted them belonged to a totally different mental and\n social environment. They contemned the native superstition. It is\n improbable that any strangers at Babylon or Heliopolis could have been\n on a plane of civilization so far removed from that of the natives\n that they were either ignorant of, or indifferent to, the native\n ideas. Rather, they are likely to have shared them. Among the Baronga,\n when a similar service is required to be rendered, the man must be\n inveigled by a trick: he would not knowingly incur the risk (Junod,\n _R. E. S._, i. 163).\n\n [283.2]\n Garcilasso, i. 59.\n\n [284.1]\n Ploss, i. 406; Hertz, _loc. cit._, citing authorities.\n\n [284.2]\n Crawley, _Mystic Rose_ (1902), 348.\n\n [285.1]\n Westermarck, _Moral Ideas_, ii. 445.\n\n [285.2]\n Above, p. 63.\n\n [286.1]\n Van Gennep, _Rites_, 39 _sqq._ As to trials of strength, see _Jesup\n Exped._, vii. 582.\n\n [287.1]\n Dennett, 121.\n\n [287.2]\n Dumoutier, 182.\n\n [288.1]\n Since this essay was published in its original form the whole position\n of women in the temple-ritual of Western Asia has been carefully\n discussed by Dr Farnell (_Greece and Bab._, 268 _sqq._), to whose\n criticisms I have been greatly indebted during the process of\n revision.\n\n [289.1]\n Among many savages additional prohibited degrees exist side by side\n with exogamy strictly so called. In my view these, where they exist,\n are supplementary rules of subsequent growth. In any case exogamy\n operates in the same way as our prohibited degrees.\n\n [292.1]\n O\u2019Grady, ii. 264.\n\n [292.2]\n There are other manuscripts of the Colloquy, but none of them contain\n the sequel of the adventures of the _Lia F\u00e1il_. See the preface to\n Stokes\u2019 edition, _Irische Texte_, 4th ser. (Leipzig, 1900).\n\n [293.1]\n Skene\u2019s paper is in _Proceedings of the Society of Antiquaries of\n Scotland_, viii. 68; Mr O\u2019Reilly\u2019s in _Journal of the Royal\n Society of Antiquaries of Ireland_, xxxii. 77. The stone now called\n the _Lia F\u00e1il_ at Tara is clearly not the stone of tradition.\n\n [293.2]\n Keating, i. 101. See also 207, 209. On the latter page \u201ca poem from\n a certain book of invasion\u201d is quoted at length. It contains an\n enumeration of the four jewels of the Tuatha D\u00e9 Danann, among them\n the Lia F\u00e1il, \u201cwhich used to roar under the king of Ireland.\u201d In\n the _Baile an Scail_ (The Champion\u2019s Ecstasy) Conna of the Hundred\n Fights steps on the stone accidentally, and is told by the Druid who\n accompanies him, \u201cF\u00e1l has screamed under thy feet. The number of\n its screams is the number of kings that shall come of thy seed for\n ever; but I may not name them.\u201d In this passage the stone is said to\n have come from the Island of Foal to abide for ever in the land of\n Tailtin (Nutt, i. 187, summarizing O\u2019Curry\u2019s translation).\n\n [294.1]\n O\u2019Curry, _On the Manners and Customs of the Ancient Irish_ (three\n vols., London, 1873), vol. i. (Sullivan\u2019s Introduction), p.\n clxxxiii. Spencer, _View of the State of Ireland_, says that the\n Tanist is \u201cthe eldest of the kinne.\u201d _Ancient Irish Histories_\n (Dublin, Hibernia Press, 1809), i. 12.\n\n [295.1]\n O\u2019Curry, ii. 199. From a reference in an Irish text translated by\n Professor Windisch from the _Lebor na hUidre_, it seems that the bull\n was required to be white. _Irische Texte_, ser. i. 200.\n\n [296.1]\n _Revue Celtique_, xxii. 22, in the story of the Sack of D\u00e1 Derga\u2019s\n Hostel translated by Whitley Stokes.\n\n [297.1]\n Haltrich, 195.\n\n [298.1]\n _J\u0101taka_, iv. 23, Story No. 445.\n\n [298.2]\n J\u00fclg, 60, Story No. 2.\n\n [299.1]\n Radloff, i. 208.\n\n [299.2]\n _Folk-Lore_, iv. 202.\n\n [300.1]\n Ralston, _Tibetan Tales_, p. 29.\n\n [300.2]\n _Bakhty\u00e1r N\u00e1ma_, 51.\n\n [301.1]\n Stumme, 123, Story No. 15.\n\n [301.2]\n Burton, _Nights_, iv. 210.\n\n [301.3]\n _N. Ind. N. and Q._, iv. 66. Similarly in a story from Mirzapur, the\n first man met in the forest is made king. _Ibid._, ii. 81. In another\n story from Mirzapur a trained elephant is let loose to choose the\n king\u2019s bride. _Ibid._, iii. 103.\n\n [302.1]\n Radloff, vi. 157.\n\n [302.2]\n _Ibid._, iv. 143.\n\n [302.3]\n Prym und Socin, _Kurdische Sammlungen_, Erste Abteil. (St Petersburg,\n 1887); \u00fcbersetz., 32.\n\n [303.1]\n Lecl\u00e8re, 16. \u201cTous ceux qui \u00e9taient presents \u00e0 ce conseil\u2026\n decid\u00e8rent qu\u2019on consulterait imm\u00e9diatement les chevaux.\u201d\n\n [303.2]\n _Kath\u00e1_, ii. 102.\n\n [304.1]\n Natesa Sastri, 126.\n\n [304.2]\n Steel and Temple, 140. In other stories from Kashmir, it is \u201can\n elephant\u201d (Knowles, 169, 309).\n\n [304.3]\n _Rev. Trad. Pop._, iv. 442.\n\n [304.4]\n Knowles, 158. Other stories, _Ibid._, 17, 309; _Bakhty\u00e1r N\u00e1ma_, 169\n (notes by the Editor); Day, 99, Story No. 5.\n\n [305.1]\n _Kath\u00e1ko\u00e7a_, 155.\n\n [306.1]\n Luzel, _L\u00e9g. Chr\u00e9t._, i. 282 (pt. iii., Story No. 11); a variant,\n _M\u00e9lusine_, i. 300.\n\n [307.1]\n _F.-L. Journ._, iv. 338 _sqq._, including the references at foot of\n 348.\n\n [308.1]\n Friedrich von Raumer, _Geschichte der Hohenstaufen und ihrer Zeit_\n (Leipzig, 1824), iii. 74.\n\n [308.2]\n Eusebius, _Eccles. Hist._, vi. 29.\n\n [308.3]\n Middleton, _Works_ (2nd ed. London, 1755), vol. v., p. 153, citing\n \u201cHist. Raven., etc. Aring [hus], Rom[a] Subt[erranea], l. vi., c.\n 48.\u201d\n\n [309.1]\n _Early Trav._, 158. The casting of lots is divination--an appeal to\n supernatural powers to decide the event. Such divination (frequently\n glossed as the ballot) took place at the election of Matthias to\n succeed Judas Iscariot in the apostolate (Acts i. 23). It seems to\n have been a not uncommon practice in the Middle Ages for the election\n of ecclesiastical dignitaries. It is expressly reprehended in a tract\n _De decem pr\u00e6ceptis_, published in the year 1439, by Thomas\n Ebendorfer of Haselbach, Court Chaplain and Privy Councillor of the\n Emperor Frederick III (_Zeit. des Vereins_, xii. 11).\n\n [309.2]\n The church derived its name from having been erected in a Lombard\n burial-ground. Poles were set up on the graves, and on each pole the\n wooden figure of a dove. It is suggestive that the scene of the story\n is placed in such surroundings.\n\n [310.1]\n Paulus Diaconus, _Gesta Longobard._, vi. 55. See also Soldan, 145,\n 148. Hildeprand did not reign long. He was deprived of the throne a\n few months later by Ratchis, who reigned for five years, 744-749.\n\n [310.2]\n Soldan, 150.\n\n [310.3]\n Post, _Afr. Juris._, i. 138, citing Harris, _The Highlands of\n Ethiopia_. Post notes that Krapf contests the accuracy of this account\n and states the succession was hereditary. The two statements are\n perhaps not irreconcilable. The succession to the throne of Businza,\n south of Lake Victoria Nyanza, was hereditary, but among the\n candidates an animal omen was decisive. Father van Thiel, who says\n this, however, omits to tell us exactly how (_Anthropos_, vi. 502).\n See also, as to other tribes, below, pp. 317 _sqq._\n\n [311.1]\n Herod., iii. 84 _sqq._\n\n [311.2]\n Grimm has collected instances, _Teut. Myth._, i. 47; ii. 658; iv.\n 1301, 1481. Also von Negelein, _Zeits. des Ver._, xi. 406 _sqq._\n\n [312.1]\n _Journ. Ind. Archip._, iii. 316.\n\n [313.1]\n Forbes, ii. 465.\n\n [313.2]\n Plutarch, _De Fluv._, xiv.\n\n [315.1]\n Huc, ii. 343; i. 278; Waddell, 245 _sqq._\n\n [316.1]\n Gray, i. 103.\n\n [317.1]\n Speke, _Journ._, 221. A less astonishing species of augury, and one\n reminding us of English Hallowe\u2019en practices, is that adopted by the\n Shilluk on the Upper Nile. On choosing a king a small stone for\n everyone of the royal princes is thrown into the fire. The stones of\n the rejected candidates fly out again; he whose stone remains in the\n fire becomes king (_Anthropos_, v. 333).\n\n [318.1]\n _Anthropos_, vi. 70.\n\n [319.1]\n _Records of the Past_, 2nd series [1891] v. 68, 62.\n\n [320.1]\n _Folk-Lore_, ix. 114. Mr Crooke does not refer to the speech of\n Eurymachus immediately following that of Telemachus, which confirms\n what has been said on this subject by Antinous and Telemachus.\n\n [321.1]\n I am indebted to Miss Burne for suggesting that something like this is\n the true interpretation of the use alike of the _Lia F\u00e1il_ and of the\n various regal paraphernalia employed in the stories. As she puts it,\n they would know their rightful owner. This, however, is to assume the\n principle of heredity as already established. The animistic belief\n involved in the interpretation suggested was perhaps applied even\n before then.\n\n [323.1]\n Girald. Cambr., _Itinerarium Kambri\u00e6_, l. i., c. 2.\n\n [323.2]\n Crooke, _Pop. Rel._, ii. 142.\n\n [323.3]\n Crooke, _Tribes and Castes_, ii. 380. _Cf._ the Legend of Dhatu Sena,\n King of Ceylon (Tennent, _Ceylon_, i. 389).\n\n [324.1]\n A. Landes, _Contes Tjames_, 104.\n\n [324.2]\n _Journal of the Indian Archipelago_, iii. 571.\n\n [324.3]\n _Havelok_, ll. 602 _sqq._, 2139 _sqq._\n\n [326.1]\n Owen, _Narrative_, ii. 418, translating a MS., of Sr. Fer\u00e3o, a\n Portuguese governor of the coast. This translation is reprinted by\n Theal, _Records of South-Eastern Africa_, vii. 371 _sqq._\n\n [327.1]\n Theal, _Records_, vii. 191 _sqq._\n\n [327.2]\n 2 Sam., ch. 16; 1 Kings, ch. 2. There is some reason to think that the\n same custom obtained among the ancient Teutonic peoples, and even in\n England. Both this and succession by marrying a daughter are frequent\n incidents in historical traditions as well as in _m\u00e4rchen_ (see\n Frazer, _Magic Art_, ii., ch. xviii., and _Scapegoat_, 368).\n\n [328.1]\n Junod, _S. A. Tribe_, i. 199, 206.\n\n\n\n\n TRANSCRIBER\u2019S NOTES\n\nPage numbers are given in in {curly} brackets. Endnote markers are\ngiven in [square] brackets in the plain text version.\n\nAlterations to the text:\n\nConvert footnotes to endnotes. Relabel note markers: append the\noriginal note number to the page number.\n\nOmit the Index.\n\n[Preface]\n\n\u201cpublished _Myth Ritual and Religion_, in which he attacked\u201d add comma\nafter _Myth_.\n\n[The relations of religion and magic]\n\n(\u201cIf a man,\u201d writes Bishop Codrington, has been successful\u2026) add\nquotation mark before _has_.\n\nChange \u201cIt is substantially that of _Professer_ Frazer\u201d to _Professor_.\n\n[The boldness of the Celts]\n\n\u201cThere is a remarkable story in the _Eyrbyggja_ Saga\u201d to _Eyrbyggia_.\n\n[Endnotes]\n\nTwo punctuation corrections (missing periods).\n\n [End of text]","title":"Ritual and belief : $b Studies in the history of religion","tradition":"scripture-revelation","translated_text":null,"word_count":111883}