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<h1>THE
BELIEF IN IMMORTALITY
AND THE WORSHIP OF THE DEAD</h1>

<h3>BY</h3>

<h2>J. G. FRAZER, D.C.L., LL.D., Litt.D.</h2>

<h3>FELLOW OF TRINITY COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE</h3>
<h3>PROFESSOR OF SOCIAL ANTHROPOLOGY IN THE UNIVERSITY OF LIVERPOOL.</h3>


<h3>VOL. I</h3>

<center>THE BELIEF AMONG THE ABORIGINES OF AUSTRALIA,
THE TORRES STRAITS ISLANDS, NEW GUINEA
AND MELANESIA</center>

<h3><i>THE GIFFORD LECTURES, ST. ANDREWS
1911-1912</i></h3>

<center>MACMILLAN AND CO., LIMITED<br/>
ST. MARTIN'S STREET, LONDON<br/>
1913</center>

<blockquote><p>
<i>Itaque unum illud erat insitum priscis illis, quos cascos
appellat Ennius, esse in morte sensum neque excessu vitae sic deleri
hominem, ut funditus interiret; idque cum multis aliis rebus; tum
e pontificio jure et e caerimoniis sepulchrorum intellegi licet, quas
maxumis ingeniis praediti nec tanta cura coluissent nec violatas
tam inexpiabili religione sanxissent, nisi haereret in corum mentibus
mortem non interitum esse omnia tollentem atque delentem,
sed quandam quasi migrationem commutationemque vitae."</i></p>

<p><span class="sc">Cicero</span>, <i>Tuscul. Disput.</i> i. 12.
</p></blockquote>

<center>TO
MY OLD FRIEND</center>

<center>JOHN SUTHERLAND BLACK, LL.D.</center>

<center>I DEDICATE AFFECTIONATELY</center>

<center>A WORK</center>

<center>WHICH OWES MUCH TO HIS ENCOURAGEMENT</center>



<h2>PREFACE</h2>


<p>The following lectures were delivered on Lord Gifford's
Foundation before the University of St. Andrews in the
early winters of 1911 and 1912. They are printed nearly
as they were spoken, except that a few passages, omitted
for the sake of brevity in the oral delivery, have been here
restored and a few more added. Further, I have compressed
the two introductory lectures into one, striking out some
passages which on reflection I judged to be irrelevant or
superfluous. The volume incorporates twelve lectures on
"The Fear and Worship of the Dead" which I delivered in
the Lent and Easter terms of 1911 at Trinity College,
Cambridge, and repeated, with large additions, in my course
at St. Andrews.</p>

<p>The theme here broached is a vast one, and I hope to
pursue it hereafter by describing the belief in immortality
and the worship of the dead, as these have been found
among the other principal races of the world both in
ancient and modern times. Of all the many forms which
natural religion has assumed none probably has exerted so
deep and far-reaching an influence on human life as the
belief in immortality and the worship of the dead; hence an
historical survey of this most momentous creed and of the
practical consequences which have been deduced from it
can hardly fail to be at once instructive and impressive,
whether we regard the record with complacency as a noble
testimony to the aspiring genius of man, who claims to
outlive the sun and the stars, or whether we view it with
pity as a melancholy monument of fruitless labour and
barren ingenuity expended in prying into that great
mystery of which fools profess their knowledge and wise
men confess their ignorance.</p>

<p>J. G. FRAZER.<br/>
Cambridge,<br/>
<i>9th February 1913.</i></p>




<h2>CONTENTS</h2>


<p><span class="sc">Dedication</span></p>

<p><span class="sc">Preface</span></p>

<p><span class="sc">Table of Contents</span></p>

<p><span class="sc"><a href="#lecture-i">Lecture I.</a>&mdash;Introduction</span></p>

<blockquote><p>
Natural theology, three modes of handling it, the dogmatic, the philosophical,
and the historical, pp. 1 <i>sq.</i>; the historical method followed in these
lectures, 2 <i>sq.</i>; questions of the truth and moral value of religious beliefs
irrelevant in an historical enquiry, 3 <i>sq.</i>; need of studying the religion of
primitive man and possibility of doing so by means of the comparative
method, 5 <i>sq.</i>; urgent need of investigating the native religion of savages
before it disappears, 6 <i>sq.</i>; a portion of savage religion the theme of
these lectures, 7 <i>sq.</i>; the question of a supernatural revelation dismissed,
8 <i>sq.</i>; theology and religion, their relations, 9; the term God defined,
9 <i>sqq.</i>; monotheism and polytheism, 11; a natural knowledge of God, if
it exists, only possible through experience, 11 <i>sq.</i>; the nature of experience,
12 <i>sq.</i>; two kinds of experience, an inward and an outward, 13 <i>sq.</i>; the
conception of God reached historically through both kinds of experience,
14; inward experience or inspiration, 14 <i>sq.</i>; deification of living men,
16 <i>sq.</i>; outward experience as a source of the idea of God, 17; the
tendency to seek for causes, 17 <i>sq.</i>; the meaning of cause, 18 <i>sq.</i>; the
savage explains natural processes by the hypothesis of spirits or gods,
19 <i>sq.</i>; natural processes afterwards explained by hypothetical forces
and atoms instead of by hypothetical spirits and gods, 20 <i>sq.</i>; nature in
general still commonly explained by the hypothesis of a deity, 21 <i>sq.</i>;
God an inferential or hypothetical cause, 22 <i>sq.</i>; the deification of dead
men, 23-25; such a deification presupposes the immortality of the human
soul or rather its survival for a longer or shorter time after death, 25 <i>sq.</i>;
the conception of human immortality suggested both by inward experience,
such as dreams, and by outward experience, such as the resemblances of
the living to the dead, 26-29; the lectures intended to collect evidence
as to the belief in immortality among certain savage races, 29 <i>sq.</i>; the
method to be descriptive rather than comparative or philosophical, 30.</p></blockquote>

<p><span class="sc"><a href="#lecture-ii">Lecture II.</a>&mdash;The Savage Conception of
Death</span></p>

<blockquote><p>
The subject of the lectures the belief in immortality and the worship of the dead
among certain of the lower races, p. 31; question of the nature and origin
of death, 31 <i>sq.</i>; universal interest of the question, 32 <i>sq.</i>; the belief in
immortality general among mankind, 33; belief of many savages that
death is not natural and that they would never die if their lives were not
cut prematurely short by sorcery, 33 <i>sq.</i>; examples of this belief among
the South American Indians, 34 <i>sqq.</i>; death sometimes attributed to
sorcery and sometimes to demons, practical consequence of this distinction,
37; belief in sorcery as the cause of death among the Indians of
Guiana, 38 <i>sq.</i>, among the Tinneh Indians of North America, 39 <i>sq.</i>,
among the aborigines of Australia, 40-47, among the natives of the
Torres Straits Islands and New Guinea, 47, among the Melanesians, 48,
among the Malagasy, 48 <i>sq.</i>, and among African tribes, 49-51; effect of
such beliefs in thinning the population by causing multitudes to die for
the imaginary crime of sorcery, 51-53; some savages attribute certain
deaths to other causes than sorcery, 53; corpse dissected to ascertain
cause of death, 53 <i>sq.</i>; the possibility of natural death admitted by the
Melanesians and the Caffres of South Africa, 54-56; the admission marks
an intellectual advance, 56 <i>sq.</i>; the recognition of ghosts or spirits, apart
from sorcery, as a cause of disease and death also marks a step in moral
and social progress, 57 <i>sq.</i>
</p></blockquote>

<p><span class="sc"><a href="#lecture-iii">Lecture III.</a>&mdash;Myths of the Origin of
Death</span></p>

<blockquote><p>
Belief of savages in man's natural immortality, p. 59; savage stories of the origin
of death, 59 <i>sq.</i>; four types of such stories:&mdash;</p>

<p>(1) <i>The Story of the Two Messengers</i>.&mdash;Zulu story of the chameleon
and the lizard, 60 <i>sq.</i>; Akamba story of the chameleon and the thrush,
61 <i>sq.</i>; Togo story of the dog and the frog, 62 <i>sq.</i>; Ashantee story of
the goat and the sheep, 63 <i>sq.</i></p>

<p>(2) <i>The Story of the Waxing and Waning Moon</i>.&mdash;Hottentot story of
the moon, the hare, and death, 65; Masai story of the moon and death,
65 <i>sq.</i>; Nandi story of the moon, the dog, and death, 66; Fijian story of
the moon, the rat, and death, 67; Caroline, Wotjobaluk, and Cham
stories of the moon, death, and resurrection, 67; death and resurrection
after three days suggested by the reappearance of the new moon after
three days, 67 <i>sq.</i></p>

<p>(3) <i>The Story of the Serpent and his Cast Skin</i>.&mdash;New Britain and
Annamite story of immortality, the serpent, and death, 69 <i>sq.</i>; Vuatom
story of immortality, the lizard, the serpent, and death, 70; Nias story
of immortality, the crab, and death, 70; Arawak and Tamanchier stories
of immortality, the serpent, the lizard, the beetle, and death, 70 <i>sq.</i>;
Melanesian story of the old woman and her cast skin, 71 <i>sq.</i>; Samoan
story of the shellfish, two torches, and death, 72.</p>

<p>(4) <i>The Story of the Banana</i>.&mdash;Poso story of immortality, the stone,
the banana, and death, 72 <i>sq.</i>; Mentra story of immortality, the banana,
and death, 73.</p>

<p>Primitive philosophy in the stories of the origin of death, 73 <i>sq.</i>;
Bahnar story of immortality, the tree, and death, 74; rivalry for the boon
of immortality between men and animals that cast their skins, such as
serpents and lizards, 74 <i>sq.</i>; stories of the origin of death told by Chingpaws,
Australians, Fijians, and Admiralty Islanders, 75-77; African and
American stories of the fatal bundle or the fatal box, 77 <i>sq.</i>; Baganda
story how death originated through the imprudence of a woman, 78-81;
West African story of Death and the spider, 81-83; Melanesian story of
Death and the Fool, 83 <i>sq.</i></p>

<p>Thus according to savages death is not a natural necessity, 84;
similar view held by some modern biologists, as A. Weismann and
A. R. Wallace, 84-86.</p></blockquote>


<p><span class="sc"><a href="#lecture-iv">Lecture IV.</a>&mdash;The Belief in Immortality
among the Aborigines of
Central Australia</span></p>

<blockquote>
<p>In tracing the evolution of religious beliefs we must begin with those of the
lowest savages, p. 87; the aborigines of Australia the lowest savages
about whom we possess accurate information, 88; savagery a case of
retarded development, 88 <i>sq.</i>; causes which have retarded progress in
Australia, 89 <i>sq.</i>; the natives of Central Australia on the whole more
primitive than those of the coasts, 90 <i>sq.</i>; little that can be called religion
among them, 91 <i>sq.</i>; their theory that the souls of the dead survive and
are reborn in their descendants, 92 <i>sq.</i>; places where the souls of the
dead await rebirth, and the mode in which they enter into women, 93 <i>sq.</i>;
local totem centres, 94 <i>sq.</i>; totemism defined, 95; traditionary origin of
the local totem centres (<i>oknanikilla</i>) where the souls of the dead assemble,
96; sacred birth-stones or birth-sticks (<i>churinga</i>) which the souls of
ancestors are thought to have dropped at these places, 96-102; elements
of a worship of the dead, 102 <i>sq.</i>; marvellous powers attributed to the
remote ancestors of the <i>alcheringa</i> or dream times, 103 <i>sq.</i>; the Wollunqua,
a mythical water-snake, ancestor of a totemic clan of the Warramunga
tribe, 104-106; religious character of the belief in the Wollunqua, 106.</p>
</blockquote>


<p><span class="sc"><a href="#lecture-v">Lecture V.</a>&mdash;The Belief in Immortality
among the Aborigines of
Central Australia</span> (<i>continued</i>)</p>

<blockquote><p>
Beliefs of the Central Australian aborigines concerning the reincarnation of the
dead, p. 107; possibility of the development of ancestor worship, 107 <i>sq.</i>;
ceremonies performed by the Warramunga in honour of the Wollunqua,
the mythical ancestor of one of their totem clans, 108 <i>sqq.</i>; union of
magic and religion in these ceremonies, 111 <i>sq.</i>; ground drawings of the
Wollunqua, 112 <i>sq.</i>; importance of the Wollunqua in the evolution of
religion and art, 113 <i>sq.</i>; how totemism might develop into polytheism
through an intermediate stage of ancestor worship, 114 <i>sq.</i>; all the conspicuous
features of the country associated by the Central Australians
with the spirits of their ancestors, 115-118; dramatic ceremonies performed
by them to commemorate the deeds of their ancestors, 118 <i>sq.</i>;
examples of these ceremonies, 119-122; these ceremonies were probably
in origin not merely commemorative or historical but magical, being
intended to procure a supply of food and other necessaries, 122 <i>sq.</i>;
magical virtue actually attributed to these dramatic ceremonies by the
Warramunga, who think that by performing them they increase the food
supply of the tribe, 123 <i>sq.</i>; hence the great importance ascribed by these
savages to the due performance of the ancestral dramas, 124; general
attitude of the Central Australian aborigines to their dead, and the lines
on which, if left to themselves, they might have developed a regular
worship of the dead, 124-126.</p></blockquote>

<p><span class="sc"><a href="#lecture-vi">Lecture VI.</a>&mdash;The Belief in Immortality
among the other Aborigines
of Australia</span></p>

<blockquote><p>
Evidence for the belief in reincarnation among the natives of other parts of
Australia than the centre, p. 127; beliefs of the Queensland aborigines
concerning the nature of the soul and the state of the dead, 127-131;
belief of the Australian aborigines that their dead are sometimes reborn
in white people, 131-133; belief of the natives of South-Eastern Australia
that their dead are not born again but go away to the sky or some distant
country, 133 <i>sq.</i>; beliefs and customs of the Narrinyeri concerning the
dead, 134 <i>sqq.</i>; motives for the excessive grief which they display at the
death of their relatives, 135 <i>sq.</i>; their pretence of avenging the death of
their friends on the guilty sorcerer, 136 <i>sq.</i>; magical virtue ascribed to
the hair of the dead, 137 <i>sq.</i>; belief that the dead go to the sky, 138 <i>sq.</i>;
appearance of the dead to the living in dreams, 139; savage faith in
dreams, 139 <i>sq.</i>; association of the stars with the souls of the dead, 140;
creed of the South-Eastern Australians touching the dead, 141; difference
of this creed from that of the Central Australians, 141; this difference
probably due in the main to a general advance of culture brought about
by more favourable natural conditions in South-Eastern Australia, 141 <i>sq.</i>;
possible influence of European teaching on native beliefs, 142 <i>sq.</i>; vagueness
and inconsistency of native beliefs as to the state of the dead,
143; custom a good test of belief, 143 <i>sq.</i>; burial customs of the
Australian aborigines as evidence of their beliefs concerning the state of
the dead, 144; their practice of supplying the dead with food, water, fire,
weapons, and implements, 144-147; motives for the destruction of the
property of the dead, 147 <i>sq.</i>; great economic loss entailed by developed
systems of sacrificing to the dead, 149.</p></blockquote>

<p><span class="sc"><a href="#lecture-vii">Lecture VII.</a>&mdash;The Belief in Immortality
among the Aborigines of
Australia</span> (<i>concluded</i>)</p>

<blockquote>
<p>Huts erected on graves for the use of the ghosts, pp. 150-152; the attentions
paid by the Australian aborigines to their dead probably spring from fear
rather than affection, 152; precautions taken by the living against the
dangerous ghosts of the dead, 152 <i>sq.</i>; cuttings and brandings of the flesh
of the living in honour of the dead, 154-158; the custom of allowing the
blood of mourners to drip on the corpse or into the grave may be intended
to strengthen the dead for a new birth, 158-162; different ways of disposing
of the dead according to the age, rank, manner of death, etc., of
the deceased, 162 <i>sq.</i>; some modes of burial are intended to prevent the
return of the spirit, others are designed to facilitate it, 163-165; final
departure of the ghost supposed to coincide with the disappearance of the
flesh from his bones, 165 <i>sq.</i>; hence a custom has arisen in many tribes
of giving the bones a second burial or otherwise disposing of them when
the flesh is quite decayed, 166; tree-burial followed by earth-burial in
some Australian tribes, 166-168; general conclusion as to the belief in
immortality and the worship of the dead among the Australian aborigines,
168 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<p><span class="sc"><a href="#lecture-viii">Lecture VIII.</a>&mdash;The Belief in Immortality
among the Natives of the
Torres Straits Islands</span></p>

<blockquote><p>
Racial affinities of the Torres Straits Islanders, pp. 170 <i>sq.</i>; their material and
social culture, 171 <i>sq.</i>; no developed worship of the dead among them,
172 <i>sq.</i>; their fear of ghosts, 173-175; home of the dead a mythical
island in the west, 175 <i>sq.</i>; elaborate funeral ceremonies of the Torres
Straits Islanders characterised by dramatic representations of the dead and
by the preservation of their skulls, which were consulted as oracles, 176.</p>

<p>Funeral ceremonies of the Western Islanders, 177-180; part played
by the brothers-in-law of the deceased at these ceremonies, 177 <i>sq.</i>;
removal of the head and preparation of the skull for use in divination,
178 <i>sq.</i>; great death-dance performed by masked men who personated
the deceased, 179 <i>sq.</i></p>

<p>Funeral ceremonies of the Eastern Islanders, 180-188; soul of the
dead carried away by a masked actor, 181 <i>sq.</i>; dramatic performance by
disguised men representing ghosts, 182 <i>sq.</i>; blood and hair of relatives
offered to the dead, 183 <i>sq.</i>; mummification of the corpse, 184;
costume of mourners, 184; cuttings for the dead, 184 <i>sq.</i>; death-dance
by men personating ghosts, 185-188; preservation of the mummy and
afterwards of the head or a wax model of it to be used in divination, 188.</p>

<p>Images of the gods perhaps developed out of mummies of the dead,
and a sacred or even secular drama developed out of funeral dances, 189.
</p></blockquote>

<p><span class="sc"><a href="#lecture-ix">Lecture IX.</a>&mdash;The Belief in Immortality
Among the Natives Of
British New Guinea</span></p>

<blockquote><p>
The two races of New Guinea, the Papuan and the Melanesian, pp. 190 <i>sq.</i>;
beliefs and customs of the Motu concerning the dead, 192; the Koita
and their beliefs as to the human soul and the state of the dead, 193-195;
alleged communications with the dead by means of mediums, 195 <i>sq.</i>;
fear of the dead, especially of a dead wife, 196 <i>sq.</i>; beliefs of the Mafulu
concerning the dead, 198; their burial customs, 198 <i>sq.</i>; their use of the
skulls and bones of the dead at a great festival, 199-201; worship of the
dead among the natives of the Aroma district, 201 <i>sq.</i>; the Hood Peninsula,
202 <i>sq.</i>; beliefs and customs concerning the dead among the
natives of the Hood Peninsula, 203-206; seclusion of widows and
widowers, 203 <i>sq.</i>; the ghost-seer, 204 <i>sq.</i>; application of the juices of the
dead to the persons of the living, 205; precautions taken by manslayers
against the ghosts of their victims, 205 <i>sq.</i>; purification for homicide
originally a mode of averting the angry ghost of the slain, 206; beliefs
and customs concerning the dead among the Massim of south-eastern New
Guinea, 206-210; Hiyoyoa, the land of the dead, 207; purification of
mourners by bathing and shaving, 207 <i>sq.</i>; foods forbidden to mourners,
208 <i>sq.</i>; fires on the grave, 209; the land of the dead, 209 <i>sq.</i>; names
of the dead not mentioned, 210; beliefs and customs concerning the dead
among the Papuans of Kiwai, 211-214; Adiri, the land of the dead, 211-213;
appearance of the dead to the living in dreams, 213 <i>sq.</i>; offerings
to the dead, 214; dreams as a source of the belief in immortality, 214.
</p></blockquote>

<p><span class="sc"><a href="#lecture-x">Lecture X.</a>&mdash;The Belief in Immortality
among the Natives of
German New Guinea</span></p>

<blockquote><p>
Andrew Lang, pp. 216 <i>sq.</i>; review of preceding lectures, 217 <i>sq.</i></p>

<p>The Papuans of Tumleo, their material culture, 218-220; their
temples, 220 <i>sq.</i>; their bachelors' houses containing the skulls of the
dead, 221; spirits of the dead as the causes of sickness and disease,
222 <i>sq.</i>; burial and mourning customs, 223 <i>sq.</i>; fate of the human soul
after death, 224; monuments to the dead, 225; disinterment of the
bones, 225; propitiation of ghosts and spirits, 226; guardian-spirits in
the temples, 226 <i>sq.</i></p>

<p>The Monumbo of Potsdam Harbour, 227 <i>sq.</i>; their beliefs concerning
the spirits of the dead, 228 <i>sq.</i>; their fear of ghosts, 229; their treatment
of manslayers, 229 <i>sq.</i></p>

<p>The Tamos of Astrolabe Bay, 230; their ideas as to the souls of the
dead, 231 <i>sq.</i>; their fear of ghosts, 232 <i>sqq.</i>; their Secret Society and
rites of initiation, 233; their preservation of the jawbones of the dead,
234 <i>sq.</i>; their sham fights after a death, 235 <i>sq.</i>; these fights perhaps
intended to throw dust in the eyes of the ghost, 236 <i>sq.</i>
</p></blockquote>

<p><span class="sc"><a href="#lecture-xi">Lecture XI.</a>&mdash;The Belief in Immortality
among the Natives of
German New Guinea</span> (<i>continued</i>)</p>

<blockquote><p>
The Papuans of Cape King William, pp. 238 <i>sq.</i>; their ideas as to spirits and
the souls of the dead, 239 <i>sq.</i>; their belief in sorcery as a cause of death,
240 <i>sq.</i>; their funeral and mourning customs, 241 <i>sq.</i>; the fate of the
soul after death, 242.</p>

<p>The Yabim of Finsch Harbour, their material and artistic culture,
242 <i>sq.</i>; their clubhouses for men, 243; their beliefs as to the state of
the dead, 244 <i>sq.</i>; the ghostly ferry, 244 <i>sq.</i>; transmigration of human
souls into animals, 245; the return of the ghosts, 246; offerings to
ghosts, 246; ghosts provided with fire, 246 <i>sq.</i>; ghosts help in the cultivation
of land, 247 <i>sq.</i>; burial and mourning customs, 248 <i>sq.</i>; divination
to discover the sorcerer who has caused a death, 249 <i>sq.</i>; bull-roarers,
250; initiation of young men, 250 <i>sqq.</i>; the rite of circumcision, the
novices supposed to be swallowed by a monster, 251 <i>sq.</i>; the return of
the novices, 253; the essence of the initiatory rites seems to be a simulation
of death and resurrection, 253 <i>sqq.</i>; the new birth among the Akikuyu
of British East Africa, 254.
</p></blockquote>

<p><span class="sc"><a href="#lecture-xii">Lecture XII.</a>&mdash;The Belief in Immortality
among the Natives of
German New Guinea</span> (<i>continued</i>)</p>

<blockquote><p>
The Bukaua of Huon Gulf, their means of subsistence and men's clubhouses, pp.
256 <i>sq.</i>; their ideas as to the souls of the dead, 257; sickness and death
caused by ghosts and sorcerers, 257 <i>sq.</i>; fear of the ghosts of the slain,
258; prayers to ancestral spirits on behalf of the crops, 259; first-fruits
offered to the spirits of the dead, 259; burial and mourning customs,
259 <i>sq.</i>; initiation of young men, novices at circumcision supposed to be
swallowed and afterwards disgorged by a monster, 260 <i>sq.</i></p>

<p>The Kai, a Papuan tribe of mountaineers inland from Finsch Harbour,
262; their country, mode of agriculture, and villages, 262 <i>sq.</i>; observations
of a German missionary on their animism, 263 <i>sq.</i>; the essential
rationality of the savage, 264-266; the Kai theory of the two sorts of
human souls, 267 <i>sq.</i>; death commonly thought to be caused by sorcery,
268 <i>sq.</i>; danger incurred by the sorcerer, 269; many hurts and maladies
attributed to the action of ghosts, 269 <i>sq.</i>; capturing lost souls, 270 <i>sq.</i>;
ghosts extracted from the body of a sick man or scraped from his person,
271; extravagant demonstrations of grief at the death of a sick man, 271-273;
hypocritical character of these demonstrations, which are intended
to deceive the ghost, 273; burial and mourning customs, preservation of
the lower jawbone and one of the lower arm bones, 274; mourning
costume, seclusion of widow or widower, 274 <i>sq.</i>; widows sometimes
strangled to accompany their dead husbands, 275; house or village
deserted after a death, 275.
</p></blockquote>

<p><span class="sc"><a href="#lecture-xiii">Lecture XIII.</a>&mdash;The Belief in Immortality
among the Natives of
German New Guinea</span> (<i>continued</i>)</p>

<blockquote><p>
The Kai (continued), their offerings to the dead, p. 276; divination by means of
ghosts to detect the sorcerer who has caused a death, 276-278; avenging
the death on the sorcerer and his people, 278 <i>sq.</i>; precautions against the
ghosts of the slain, 279 <i>sq.</i>; attempts to deceive the ghosts of the murdered,
280-282; pretence of avenging the ghost of a murdered man, 282;
fear of ghosts by night, 282 <i>sq.</i>; services rendered by the spirits of the
dead to farmers and hunters, 283-285; the journey of the soul to the spirit
land, 285 <i>sq.</i>; life of the dead in the other world, 286 <i>sq.</i>; ghosts die
the second death and turn into animals, 287; ghosts of famous people
invoked long after their death, 287-289; possible development of ghosts
into gods, 289 <i>sq.</i>; lads at circumcision supposed to be swallowed and
disgorged by a monster, 290 <i>sq.</i></p>

<p>The Tami Islanders of Huon Gulf, 291; their theory of a double
human soul, a long one and a short one, 291 <i>sq.</i>; departure of the short
soul for Lamboam, the nether world of the dead, 292; offerings to the
dead, 292; appeasing the ghost, 292 <i>sq.</i>; funeral and mourning customs,
dances in honour of the dead, offerings thrown into the fire, 293 <i>sq.</i>;
bones of the dead dug up and kept in the house for a time, 294 <i>sq.</i>
</p></blockquote>

<p><span class="sc"><a href="#lecture-xiv">Lecture XIV.</a>&mdash;The Belief in Immortality
among the Natives of
German and Dutch New Guinea</span></p>

<blockquote><p>
The Tami Islanders of Huon Gulf (continued), their doctrine of souls and gods,
pp. 296 <i>sq.</i>; dances of masked men representing spirits, 297; worship of
ancestral spirits and offerings to them, 297 <i>sq.</i>; life of the souls in Lamboam,
the nether world, 299 <i>sq.</i>; evocation of ghosts by the ghost-seer,
300; sickness caused by ghosts, 300 <i>sq.</i>; novices at circumcision supposed
to be swallowed and disgorged by a monster, 301 <i>sq.</i>; meaning of the
bodily mutilations inflicted on young men at puberty obscure, 302 <i>sq.</i>
The natives of Dutch New Guinea, 303-323; the Noofoors of Geelvink
Bay, their material culture and arts of life, 303-305; their fear and
worship of the dead, 305-307; wooden images (<i>korwar</i>) of the dead kept
in the houses and carried in canoes to be used as oracles, 307 <i>sq.</i>; the
images consulted in sickness and taken with the people to war, 308-310;
offerings to the images, 310 <i>sq.</i>; souls of those who have died away from
home recalled to animate the images, 311; skulls of the dead, especially
of firstborn children and of parents, inserted in the images, 312 <i>sq.</i>;
bodies of young children hung on trees, 312 <i>sq.</i>; mummies of dead relatives
kept in the houses, 313; seclusion of mourners and restrictions on
their diet, 313 <i>sq.</i>; tattooing in honour of the dead, 314; teeth and hair
of the dead worn by relatives, 314 <i>sq.</i>; rebirth of parents in their
children, 315.</p>

<p>The natives of islands off the west coast of New Guinea, their wooden
images of dead ancestors and shrines for the residence of the ancestral
spirits, 315 <i>sq.</i>; their festivals in honour of the dead, 316; souls of
ancestors supposed to reside in the images and to protect the house and
household, 317.</p>

<p>The natives of the Macluer Gulf, their images and bowls in honour of
the dead, 317 <i>sq.</i></p>

<p>The natives of the Mimika district, their burial and mourning customs,
their preservation of the skulls of the dead, and their belief in ghosts,
318.</p>

<p>The natives of Windessi, their burial customs, 318 <i>sq.</i>; divination
after a death, 319; mourning customs, 319 <i>sq.</i>; festival of the dead, 320
<i>sq.</i>; wooden images of the dead, 321; doctrine of souls and of their fate
after death, 321 <i>sq.</i>; medicine-men inspired by the souls of the dead, 322
<i>sq.</i>; ghosts of slain enemies driven away, 323.
</p></blockquote>

<p><span class="sc"><a href="#lecture-xv">Lecture XV.</a>&mdash;The Belief in Immortality
among the Natives of
Southern Melanesia (New Caledonia)</span></p>

<blockquote><p>
The Melanesians in general, their material culture, p. 324; Southern Melanesia,
the New Caledonians, and Father Lambert's account of them, 325; their
ideas as to the spirit land and the way thither, 325 <i>sq.</i>; burial customs,
326; cuttings and brandings for the dead, 326 <i>sq.</i>; property of the dead
destroyed, 327; seclusion of gravediggers and restrictions imposed on
them, 327; sham fight in honour of the dead, 327 <i>sq.</i>; skulls of the
dead preserved and worshipped on various occasions, such as sickness,
fishing, and famine, 328-330; caves used as charnel-houses and sanctuaries
of the dead in the Isle of Pines, 330-332; prayers and sacrifices to
the ancestral spirits, 332 <i>sq.</i>; prayer-posts, 333 <i>sq.</i>; sacred stones associated
with the dead and used to cause dearth or plenty, madness, a good
crop of bread-fruit or yams, drought, rain, a good catch of fish, and so on,
334-338; the religion of the New Caledonians mainly a worship of the
dead tinctured with magic, 338.</p>

<p>Evidence as to the natives of New Caledonia collected by Dr. George
Turner, 339-342; material culture of the New Caledonians, 339; their
burial customs, the skulls and nails of the dead preserved and used to
fertilise the yam plantations, 339 <i>sq.</i>; worship of ancestors and prayers to
the dead, 340; festivals in honour of the dead, 340 <i>sq.</i>; making rain by
means of the skeletons of the dead, 341; execution of sorcerers, 341 <i>sq.</i>;
white men identified with the spirits of the dead, 342.
</p></blockquote>

<p><span class="sc"><a href="#lecture-xvi">Lecture XVI.</a>&mdash;The Belief in Immortality
among the Natives of
Central Melanesia</span></p>

<blockquote><p>
Central Melanesia divided into two archipelagoes, the religion of the Western
Islands (Solomon Islands) characterised by a worship of the dead, the
religion of the Eastern Islands (New Hebrides, Banks' Islands, Torres
Islands, Santa Cruz Islands) characterised by a worship of non-human
spirits, pp. 343 <i>sq.</i>; Central Melanesian theory of the soul, 344 <i>sq.</i>; the
land of the dead either in certain islands or in a subterranean region called
Panoi, 345; ghosts of power and ghosts of no account, 345 <i>sq.</i>; supernatural
power (<i>mana</i>) acquired through ghosts, 346 <i>sq.</i></p>

<p>Burial customs in the Western Islands (Solomon Islands), 347 <i>sqq.</i>;
land-burial and sea-burial, land-ghosts and sea-ghosts, 347 <i>sq.</i>; funeral
feasts and burnt-offerings to the dead, 348 <i>sq.</i>; the land of the dead and
the ghostly ferry, 350 <i>sq.</i>; ghosts die the second death and turn into the
nests of white ants, 350 <i>sq.</i>; preservation of the skull and jawbone in
order to ensure the protection of the ghost, 351 <i>sq.</i>; human heads sought
in order to add fresh spiritual power (<i>mana</i>) to the ghost of a dead
chief, 352.</p>

<p>Beliefs and customs concerning the dead in the Eastern Islands (New
Hebrides, Banks' Islands, Torres Islands), 352 <i>sqq.</i>; Panoi, the subterranean
abode of the dead, 353 <i>sq.</i>; ghosts die the second death, 354;
different fates of the souls of the good and bad, 354 <i>sq.</i>; descent of the
living into the world of the dead, 355; burial customs of the Banks'
Islanders, 355 <i>sqq.</i>; dead sometimes temporarily buried in the house,
355; display of property beside the corpse and funeral oration, 355
<i>sq.</i>; sham burial of eminent men, 356; ghosts driven away from the
village, 356-358; deceiving the ghosts of women who have died in child-bed,
358; funeral feasts, 358 <i>sq.</i>; funeral customs in the New Hebrides,
359 <i>sqq.</i>; the aged buried alive, 359 <i>sq.</i>; seclusion of mourners and restrictions
on their diet, 360; sacrifice of pigs, 360 <i>sq.</i>; the journey of the
ghost to the spirit land, 361 <i>sq.</i>; provisions made by the living for the
welfare of the dead, 362.</p>

<p>Only ghosts of powerful men worshipped, 362 <i>sq.</i>; institution of the
worship of a martial ghost, 363 <i>sq.</i>; offerings of food and drink to the
dead, 364 <i>sq.</i>; sacrifice of pigs to ghosts in the Solomon Islands, 365 <i>sq.</i></p>
</blockquote>

<p><span class="sc"><a href="#lecture-xvii">Lecture XVII.</a>&mdash;The Belief in Immortality
among the Natives of
Central Melanesia</span> (<i>concluded</i>)</p>

<blockquote><p>
Public sacrifices to ghosts in the Solomon Islands, pp. 367 <i>sq.</i>; offering of first-fruits
to ghosts, 368 <i>sq.</i>; private ghosts as distinguished from public
ghosts, 369 <i>sq.</i>; fighting ghosts kept as spiritual auxiliaries, 370; ghosts
employed to make the gardens grow, 370 <i>sq.</i>; human sacrifices to ghosts,
371 <i>sq.</i>; vicarious and other sacrifices to ghosts at Saa in Malanta,
372 <i>sq.</i>; offerings of first-fruits to ghosts at Saa, 373 <i>sq.</i>; vicarious sacrifices
offered for the sick to ghosts in Santa Cruz, 374; the dead represented
by stocks in the houses, 374; native account of sacrifices in Santa
Cruz, 374 <i>sq.</i>; prayers to the dead, 376 <i>sq.</i>; sanctuaries of ghosts in the
Solomon Islands, 377-379; ghosts lodged in animals, birds, and fish,
especially in sharks, 379 <i>sq.</i></p>

<p>The belief in ghosts underlies the Melanesian conception of magic,
380 <i>sq.</i>; sickness commonly caused by ghosts and cured by ghost-seers,
381-384; contrast between Melanesian and European systems of medicine,
384; weather regulated by ghosts and spirits and by weather-doctors
who have the ear of ghosts and spirits, 384-386; witchcraft or
black magic wrought by means of ghosts, 386-388; prophets inspired by
ghosts, 388 <i>sq.</i>; divination operating through ghosts, 389 <i>sq.</i>; taboos
enforced by ghosts, 390 <i>sq.</i>; general influence which a belief in the
survival of the soul after death has exercised on Melanesian life, 391 <i>sq.</i>
</p></blockquote>

<p><span class="sc"><a href="#lecture-xviii">Lecture XVIII.</a>&mdash;The Belief in Immortality
among the Natives of
Northern and Eastern Melanesia</span></p>

<blockquote><p>
The natives of Northern Melanesia or the Bismarck Archipelago (New Britain,
New Ireland, etc.), their material culture, commercial habits, and want
of regular government, pp. 393-395; their theory of the soul, 395 <i>sq.</i>;
their fear of ghosts, 396; offerings to the dead, 396 <i>sq.</i>; burial customs,
397 <i>sq.</i>; preservation of the skulls, 398; customs and beliefs concerning
the dead among the Sulka of New Britain, 398-400, among the Moanus
of the Admiralty Islands, 400 <i>sq.</i> and among the natives of the Kaniet
Islands, 401 <i>sq.</i>; natural deaths commonly attributed to sorcery, 402;
divination to discover the sorcerer who caused the death, 402; death
customs in the Duke of York Island, cursing the sorcerer, skulls preserved,
feasts and dances, 403; prayers to the dead, 403 <i>sq.</i>; the land of
the dead and the fate of the departed souls, hard lot of impecunious ghosts,
404-406.</p>

<p>The natives of Eastern Melanesia (Fiji), their material culture and
political constitution, 406-408; means of subsistence, 408; moral
character, 408 <i>sq.</i>; scenery of the Fijian islands, 409 <i>sq.</i>; the Fijian
doctrine of souls, 410-412; souls of rascals caught in scarves, 412 <i>sq.</i>;
fear of sorcery and precautions against it, 413 <i>sq.</i>; beneficial effect of the
fear in enforcing habits of personal cleanliness, 414; fear of ghosts and
custom of driving them away, 414 <i>sq.</i>; killing a ghost, 415 <i>sq.</i>; outwitting
grandfather's ghost, 416; special relation of grandfather to grandchild,
416; grandfather's soul reborn in his grandchild, 417 <i>sq.</i>
</p></blockquote>

<p><span class="sc"><a href="#lecture-xix">Lecture XIX.</a>&mdash;The Belief in Immortality
among the Natives of
Eastern Melanesia (Fiji)</span> (<i>continued</i>)</p>

<blockquote><p>
Indifference of the Fijians to death, p. 419; their custom of killing the sick and
aged with the consent of the victims, 419-424; their readiness to die
partly an effect of their belief in immortality, 422 <i>sq.</i>; wives strangled or
buried alive to accompany their husbands to the spirit land, 424-426;
servants and dependants killed to attend their dead lords, 426; sacrifices
of foreskins and fingers in honour of dead chiefs, 426 <i>sq.</i>; boys circumcised
in order to save the lives of their fathers or fathers' brothers, 427;
saturnalia attending such rites of circumcision, 427 <i>sq.</i>; the <i>Nanga</i>,
or sacred enclosure of stones, dedicated to the worship of ancestors,
428 <i>sq.</i>; first-fruits of the yams offered to the ancestors in the <i>Nanga</i>,
429; initiation of young men in the <i>Nanga</i>, drama of death and resurrection,
sacrament of food and water, 429-432; the initiation followed by a
period of sexual licence, 433; the initiatory rites apparently intended to
introduce the novices to the ancestral spirits and endow them with the
powers of the dead, 434 <i>sq.</i>; the rites seem to have been imported into
Fiji by immigrants from the west, 435 <i>sq.</i>; the licence attending these
rites perhaps a reversion to primitive communism for the purpose of propitiating
the ancestral spirits, 436 <i>sq.</i>; description of the <i>Nanga</i> or sacred
enclosure of stones, 437 <i>sq.</i>; comparison with the cromlechs and other
megalithic monuments of Europe, 438.
</p></blockquote>

<p><span class="sc"><a href="#lecture-xx">Lecture XX.</a>&mdash;The Belief in Immortality
among the Natives of
Eastern Melanesia (Fiji)</span> (<i>concluded</i>)</p>

<blockquote><p>
Worship of parents and other dead relations in Fiji, pp. 439 <i>sq.</i>; Fijian notion
of divinity (<i>kalou</i>), 440; two classes of gods, namely, divine gods and
human gods or deified men, 440 <i>sq.</i>; temples (<i>bures</i>) 441 <i>sq.</i>; worship
at the temples, 443; priests (<i>betes</i>), their oracular inspiration by the gods,
443-446; human sacrifices on various occasions, such as building a house
or launching a new canoe, 446 <i>sq.</i>; high estimation in which manslaughter
was held by the Fijians, 447 <i>sq.</i>; consecration of manslayers and restrictions
laid on them, probably from fear of the ghosts of their victims,
448 <i>sq.</i>; certain funeral customs based apparently on the fear of ghosts,
450 <i>sqq.</i>; persons who have handled a corpse forbidden to touch food
with their hands, 450 <i>sq.</i>; seclusion of gravediggers, 451; mutilations,
brandings, and fasts in honour of the dead, 451 <i>sq.</i>; the dead carried out
of the house by a special opening to prevent the return of the ghost, 452-461;
the other world and the way thither, 462 <i>sqq.</i>; the ghostly ferry,
462 <i>sq.</i>; the ghost and the pandanus tree, 463 <i>sq.</i>; hard fate of the
unmarried dead, 464; the Killer of Souls, 464 <i>sq.</i>; ghosts precipitated
into a lake, 465 <i>sq.</i>; Murimuria, an inferior sort of heaven, 466; the
Fijian Elysium, 466 <i>sq.</i>; transmigration and annihilation, the few that
are saved, 467.</p>

<p>Concluding observations, 467-471; strength and universality of the
belief in immortality among savages, 468; the state of war among savage
and civilised peoples often a direct consequence of the belief in immortality,
468 <i>sq.</i>; economic loss involved in sacrifices to the dead, 469; how
does the savage belief in immortality bear on the truth or falsehood of that
belief in general? 469; the answer depends to some extent on the view
we take of human nature, 469-471; the conclusion left open, 471.
</p></blockquote>

<p><span class="sc"><a href="#note">Note.</a></span>&mdash;Myth of the Continuance of Death</p>

<p><span class="sc"><a href="#index">Index</a></span></p>
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page1" id="page1"></a>[pg 1]</span>




<h2><a name="lecture-i" id="lecture-i"></a>LECTURE I</h2>

<h3>INTRODUCTION</h3>


<p class="side">Natural theology, and the three modes of handling it, the
dogmatic, the philosophical, and the historical.</p>

<p>The subject of these lectures is a branch of natural theology.
By natural theology I understand that reasoned knowledge of
a God or gods which man may be supposed, whether rightly
or wrongly, capable of attaining to by the exercise of his
natural faculties alone. Thus defined, the subject may be
treated in at least three different ways, namely, dogmatically,
philosophically, and historically. We may simply state the
dogmas of natural theology which appear to us to be true:
that is the dogmatic method. Or, secondly, we may
examine the validity of the grounds on which these dogmas
have been or may be maintained: that is the philosophic
method. Or, thirdly, we may content ourselves with
describing the various views which have been held on the
subject and tracing their origin and evolution in history:
that is the historical method. The first of these three
methods assumes the truth of natural theology, the second
discusses it, and the third neither assumes nor discusses
but simply ignores it: the historian as such is not concerned
with the truth or falsehood of the beliefs he describes, his
business is merely to record them and to track them as far
as possible to their sources. Now that the subject of natural
theology is ripe for a purely dogmatic treatment will hardly,
I think, be maintained by any one, to whatever school of
thought he may belong; accordingly that method of treatment
need not occupy us further. Far otherwise is it with
the philosophic method which undertakes to enquire into the
truth or falsehood of the belief in a God: no method could
be more appropriate at a time like the present, when the
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page2" id="page2"></a>[pg 2]</span>
opinions of educated and thoughtful men on that profound
topic are so unsettled, diverse, and conflicting. A philosophical
treatment of the subject might comprise a discussion
of such questions as whether a natural knowledge of God is
possible to man, and, if possible, by what means and through
what faculties it is attainable; what are the grounds for
believing in the existence of a God; and, if this belief is
justified, what may be supposed to be his essential nature
and attributes, and what his relations to the world in general
and to man in particular. Now I desire to confess at once
that an adequate discussion of these and kindred questions
would far exceed both my capacity and my knowledge; for
he who would do justice to so arduous an enquiry should
not only be endowed with a comprehensive and penetrating
genius, but should possess a wide and accurate acquaintance
with the best accredited results of philosophic speculation
and scientific research. To such qualifications I can lay no
claim, and accordingly I must regard myself as unfitted for
a purely philosophic treatment of natural theology. To speak
plainly, the question of the existence of a God is too deep for
me. I dare neither affirm nor deny it. I can only humbly
confess my ignorance. Accordingly, if Lord Gifford had
required of his lecturers either a dogmatic or a philosophical
treatment of natural theology, I could not have undertaken
to deliver the lectures.</p>

<p class="side">The method followed in these lectures is the historical.</p>

<p>But in his deed of foundation, as I understand it, Lord
Gifford left his lecturers free to follow the historical rather than
the dogmatic or the philosophical method of treatment. He
says: "The lecturers shall be under no restraint whatever in
their treatment of their theme: for example, they may freely
discuss (and it may be well to do so) all questions about
man's conceptions of God or the Infinite, their origin, nature,
and truth." In making this provision the founder appears
to have allowed and indeed encouraged the lecturers not
only to discuss, if they chose to do so, the philosophical
basis of a belief in God, but also to set forth the various
conceptions of the divine nature which have been held by
men in all ages and to trace them to their origin: in short,
he permitted and encouraged the lecturers to compose a
history of natural theology or of some part of it. Even
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page3" id="page3"></a>[pg 3]</span>
when it is thus limited to its historical aspect the theme is
too vast to be mastered completely by any one man: the
most that a single enquirer can do is to take a general but
necessarily superficial survey of the whole and to devote
himself especially to the investigation of some particular
branch or aspect of the subject. This I have done more or
less for many years, and accordingly I think that without
being presumptuous I may attempt, in compliance with Lord
Gifford's wishes and directions, to lay before my hearers a portion
of the history of religion to which I have paid particular
attention. That the historical study of religious beliefs,
quite apart from the question of their truth or falsehood, is
both interesting and instructive will hardly be disputed by
any intelligent and thoughtful enquirer. Whether they have
been well or ill founded, these beliefs have deeply influenced
the conduct of human affairs; they have furnished some of
the most powerful, persistent, and far-reaching motives of
action; they have transformed nations and altered the face
of the globe. No one who would understand the general
history of mankind can afford to ignore the annals of
religion. If he does so, he will inevitably fall into the most
serious misconceptions even in studying branches of human
activity which might seem, on a superficial view, to be quite
unaffected by religious considerations.</p>

<p class="side">An historical enquiry into the evolution of religion
prejudices neither the question of the ethical value of religious
practice nor the question of the truth or falsehood of religious
belief.</p>

<p>Therefore to trace theological and in general religious
ideas to their sources and to follow them through all the
manifold influences which they have exerted on the destinies
of our race must always be an object of prime importance
to the historian, whatever view he may take of their speculative
truth or ethical value. Clearly we cannot estimate
their ethical value until we have learned the modes in which
they have actually determined human conduct for good or
evil: in other words, we cannot judge of the morality of
religious beliefs until we have ascertained their history:
the facts must be known before judgment can be passed on
them: the work of the historian must precede the work of
the moralist. Even the question of the validity or truth of
religious creeds cannot, perhaps, be wholly dissociated from
the question of their origin. If, for example, we discover
that doctrines which we had accepted with implicit faith
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page4" id="page4"></a>[pg 4]</span>
from tradition have their close analogies in the barbarous
superstitions of ignorant savages, we can hardly help suspecting
that our own cherished doctrines may have originated
in the similar superstitions of our rude forefathers; and the
suspicion inevitably shakes the confidence with which we
had hitherto regarded these articles of our faith. The doubt
thus cast on our old creed is perhaps illogical, since even if
we should discover that the creed did originate in mere
superstition, in other words, that the grounds on which it was
first adopted were false and absurd, this discovery would not
really disprove the beliefs themselves, for it is perfectly
possible that a belief may be true, though the reasons alleged
in favour of it are false and absurd: indeed we may affirm
with great probability that a multitude of human beliefs, true
in themselves, have been accepted and defended by millions
of people on grounds which cannot bear exact investigation
for a moment. For example, if the facts of savage life
which it will be my duty to submit to you should have the
effect of making the belief in immortality look exceedingly
foolish, those of my hearers who cherish the belief may console
themselves by reflecting that, as I have just pointed out,
a creed is not necessarily false because some of the reasons
adduced in its favour are invalid, because it has sometimes
been supported by the despicable tricks of vulgar imposture,
and because the practices to which it has given rise
have often been in the highest degree not only absurd but
pernicious.</p>

<p class="side">Yet such an enquiry may shake the confidence with which
traditional beliefs have been held.</p>

<p>Thus an historical enquiry into the origin of religious
creeds cannot, strictly speaking, invalidate, still less refute,
the creeds themselves, though it may, and doubtless often
does weaken the confidence with which they are held. This
weakening of religious faith as a consequence of a closer
scrutiny of religious origins is unquestionably a matter of
great importance to the community; for society has been
built and cemented to a great extent on a foundation of
religion, and it is impossible to loosen the cement and
shake the foundation without endangering the superstructure.
The candid historian of religion will not dissemble the
danger incidental to his enquiries, but nevertheless it is his
duty to prosecute them unflinchingly. Come what may, he
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page5" id="page5"></a>[pg 5]</span>
must ascertain the facts so far as it is possible to do so;
having done that, he may leave to others the onerous and
delicate task of adjusting the new knowledge to the practical
needs of mankind. The narrow way of truth may often look
dark and threatening, and the wayfarer may often be weary;
yet even at the darkest and the weariest he will go forward
in the trust, if not in the knowledge, that the way will lead
at last to light and to rest; in plain words, that there is no
ultimate incompatibility between the good and the true.</p>

<p class="side">To discover the origin of the idea of God we must study the
beliefs of primitive man.</p>

<p>Now if we are indeed to discover the origin of man's
conception of God, it is not sufficient to analyse the ideas
which the educated and enlightened portion of mankind
entertain on the subject at the present day; for in great
measure these ideas are traditional, they have been handed
down with little or no independent reflection or enquiry
from generation to generation; hence in order to detect them
in their inception it becomes necessary to push our analysis
far back into the past. Large materials for such an historical
enquiry are provided for us in the literature of ancient
nations which, though often sadly mutilated and imperfect,
has survived to modern times and throws much precious
light on the religious beliefs and practices of the peoples
who created it. But the ancients themselves inherited a
great part of their religion from their prehistoric ancestors,
and accordingly it becomes desirable to investigate the
religious notions of these remote forefathers of mankind,
since in them we may hope at last to arrive at the ultimate
source, the historical origin, of the whole long development.</p>

<p class="side">The beliefs of primitive man can only be understood through a
comparative study of the various races in the lower stages of culture.</p>

<p>But how can this be done? how can we investigate the
ideas of peoples who, ignorant of writing, had no means of
permanently recording their beliefs? At first sight the thing
seems impossible; the thread of enquiry is broken off short;
it has landed us on the brink of a gulf which looks impassable.
But the case is not so hopeless as it appears. True,
we cannot investigate the beliefs of prehistoric ages directly,
but the comparative method of research may furnish us
with the means of studying them indirectly; it may hold
up to us a mirror in which, if we do not see the originals,
we may perhaps contemplate their reflections. For a comparative
study of the various races of mankind demonstrates,
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page6" id="page6"></a>[pg 6]</span>
or at least renders it highly probable, that humanity has
everywhere started at an exceedingly low level of culture,
a level far beneath that of the lowest existing savages, and
that from this humble beginning all the various races of
men have gradually progressed upward at different rates,
some faster and some slower, till they have attained the
particular stage which each of them occupies at the present
time.</p>

<p class="side">Hence the need of studying the beliefs and customs of
savages, if we are to understand the evolution of culture in general.</p>

<p>If this conclusion is correct, the various stages of
savagery and barbarism on which many tribes and peoples
now stand represent, broadly speaking, so many degrees of
retarded social and intellectual development, they correspond
to similar stages which the ancestors of the civilised races may
be supposed to have passed through at more or less remote
periods of their history. Thus when we arrange all the
known peoples of the world according to the degree of their
savagery or civilisation in a graduated scale of culture, we
obtain not merely a comparative view of their relative positions
in the scale, but also in some measure an historical
record of the genetic development of culture from a very
early time down to the present day. Hence a study of the
savage and barbarous races of mankind is of the greatest
importance for a full understanding of the beliefs and
practices, whether religious, social, moral, or political, of the
most civilised races, including our own, since it is practically
certain that a large part of these beliefs and practices
originated with our savage ancestors, and has been inherited
by us from them, with more or less of modification, through
a long line of intermediate generations.</p>

<p class="side">The need is all the more urgent because savages are rapidly
disappearing or being transformed.</p>

<p>That is why the study of existing savages at the present
day engrosses so much of the attention of civilised peoples.
We see that if we are to comprehend not only our past
history but our present condition, with all its many intricate
and perplexing problems, we must begin at the beginning by
attempting to discover the mental state of our savage forefathers,
who bequeathed to us so much of the faiths, the laws,
and the institutions which we still cherish; and more and more
men are coming to perceive that the only way open to us of
doing this effectually is to study the mental state of savages
who to this day occupy a state of culture analogous to that
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page7" id="page7"></a>[pg 7]</span>
of our rude progenitors. Through contact with civilisation
these savages are now rapidly disappearing, or at least losing
the old habits and ideas which render them a document of
priceless historical value for us. Hence we have every
motive for prosecuting the study of savagery with ardour
and diligence before it is too late, before the record is gone
for ever. We are like an heir whose title-deeds must be
scrutinised before he can take possession of the inheritance,
but who finds the handwriting of the deeds so fading and
evanescent that it threatens to disappear entirely before he
can read the document to the end. With what keen attention,
what eager haste, would he not scan the fast-vanishing
characters? With the like attention and the like haste
civilised men are now applying themselves to the investigation
of the fast-vanishing savages.</p>

<p class="side">Savage religion is to be the subject of these lectures.</p>

<p>Thus if we are to trace historically man's conception of
God to its origin, it is desirable, or rather essential, that we
should begin by studying the most primitive ideas on the
subject which are accessible to us, and the most primitive
ideas are unquestionably those of the lowest savages.
Accordingly in these lectures I propose to deal with a
particular side or aspect of savage religion. I shall not
trench on the sphere of the higher religions, not only
because my knowledge of them is for the most part very
slight, but also because I believe that a searching study of
the higher and more complex religions should be postponed
till we have acquired an accurate knowledge of the lower and
simpler. For a similar reason the study of inorganic chemistry
naturally precedes the study of organic chemistry, because
inorganic compounds are much simpler and therefore more
easily analysed and investigated than organic compounds.
So with the chemistry of the mind; we should analyse the
comparatively simple phenomena of savage thought into its
constituent elements before we attempt to perform a similar
operation on the vastly more complex phenomena of civilised
beliefs.</p>

<p class="side">But only a part of savage religion will be dealt with.</p>

<p>But while I shall confine myself rigidly to the field of
savage religion, I shall not attempt to present you with a
complete survey even of that restricted area, and that for
more reasons than one. In the first place the theme, even
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page8" id="page8"></a>[pg 8]</span>
with this great limitation, is far too large to be adequately
set forth in the time at my disposal; the sketch&mdash;for it
could be no more than a sketch&mdash;would be necessarily
superficial and probably misleading. In the second place,
even a sketch of primitive religion in general ought to presuppose
in the sketcher a fairly complete knowledge of the
whole subject, so that all the parts may appear, not indeed
in detail, but in their proper relative proportions. Now
though I have given altogether a good deal of time to the
study of primitive religion, I am far from having studied it
in all its branches, and I could not trust myself to give an
accurate general account of it even in outline; were I to
attempt such a thing I should almost certainly fall, through
sheer ignorance or inadvertence, into the mistake of exaggerating
some features, unduly diminishing others, and omitting
certain essential features altogether. Hence it seems to me
better not to commit myself to so ambitious an enterprise
but to confine myself in my lectures, as I have always done
in my writings, to a comparatively minute investigation of
certain special aspects or forms of primitive religion rather
than attempt to embrace in a general view the whole of
that large subject. Such a relatively detailed study of a
single compartment may be less attractive and more tedious
than a bird's-eye view of a wider area; but in the end it
may perhaps prove a more solid contribution to knowledge.</p>

<p class="side">Introductory observations. The question of a supernatural
revelation excluded.</p>

<p>But before I come to details I wish to make a few general
introductory remarks, and in particular to define some of
the terms which I shall have occasion to use in the lectures.
I have defined natural theology as that reasoned knowledge
of a God or gods which man may be supposed,
whether rightly or wrongly, capable of attaining to by the
exercise of his natural faculties alone. Whether there ever
has been or can be a special miraculous revelation of God to
man through channels different from those through which all
other human knowledge is derived, is a question which does
not concern us in these lectures; indeed it is expressly
excluded from their scope by the will of the founder, who
directed the lecturers to treat the subject "as a strictly
natural science," "without reference to or reliance upon any
supposed special exceptional or so-called miraculous revelation."
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page9" id="page9"></a>[pg 9]</span>
Accordingly, in compliance with these directions, I
dismiss at the outset the question of a revelation, and shall
limit myself strictly to natural theology in the sense in
which I have defined it.</p>

<p class="side">Theology and religion, how related to each other.</p>

<p>I have called natural theology a reasoned knowledge of
a God or gods to distinguish it from that simple and comparatively,
though I believe never absolutely, unreasoning
faith in God which suffices for the practice of religion. For
theology is at once more and less than religion: if on the
one hand it includes a more complete acquaintance with the
grounds of religious belief than is essential to religion, on the
other hand it excludes the observance of those practical
duties which are indispensable to any religion worthy of the
name. In short, whereas theology is purely theoretical,
religion is both theoretical and practical, though the
theoretical part of it need not be so highly developed as in
theology. But while the subject of the lectures is, strictly
speaking, natural theology rather than natural religion, I
think it would be not only difficult but undesirable to confine
our attention to the purely theological or theoretical part
of natural religion: in all religions, and not least in the
undeveloped savage religions with which we shall deal,
theory and practice fuse with and interact on each other too
closely to be forcibly disjoined and handled apart. Hence
throughout the lectures I shall not scruple to refer constantly
to religious practice as well as to religious theory, without
feeling that thereby I am transgressing the proper limits of
my subject.</p>

<p class="side">The term God defined.</p>

<p>As theology is not only by definition but by etymology
a reasoned knowledge or theory of a God or gods, it becomes
desirable, before we proceed further, to define the sense in
which I understand and shall employ the word God. That
sense is neither novel nor abstruse; it is simply the sense
which I believe the generality of mankind attach to the term.
By a God I understand a superhuman and supernatural
being, of a spiritual and personal nature, who controls the
world or some part of it on the whole for good, and who is
endowed with intellectual faculties, moral feelings, and active
powers, which we can only conceive on the analogy of human
faculties, feelings, and activities, though we are bound to suppose
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page10" id="page10"></a>[pg 10]</span>
that in the divine nature they exist in higher degrees, perhaps
in infinitely higher degrees, than the corresponding faculties,
feelings, and activities of man. In short, by a God I mean a
beneficent supernatural spirit, the ruler of the world or of
some part of it, who resembles man in nature though he
excels him in knowledge, goodness, and power. This is, I
think, the sense in which the ordinary man speaks of a God,
and I believe that he is right in so doing. I am aware that
it has been not unusual, especially perhaps of late years, to
apply the name of God to very different conceptions, to
empty it of all implication of personality, and to reduce it
to signifying something very large and very vague, such as
the Infinite or the Absolute (whatever these hard words
may signify), the great First Cause, the Universal Substance,
"the stream of tendency by which all things seek to fulfil
the law of their being,"<a id="footnotetag1" name="footnotetag1"></a><a href="#footnote1"><sup>1</sup></a> and so forth. Now without
expressing any opinion as to the truth or falsehood of the
views implied by such applications of the name of God, I
cannot but regard them all as illegitimate extensions of the
term, in short as an abuse of language, and I venture to
protest against it in the interest not only of verbal accuracy
but of clear thinking, because it is apt to conceal from ourselves
and others a real and very important change of
thought: in particular it may lead many to imagine that
the persons who use the name of God in one or other of these
extended senses retain certain theological opinions which they
may in fact have long abandoned. Thus the misuse of the
name of God may resemble the stratagem in war of putting
up dummies to make an enemy imagine that a fort is still
held after it has been evacuated by the garrison. I am far
from alleging or insinuating that the illegitimate extension of
the divine name is deliberately employed by theologians or
others for the purpose of masking a change of front; but
that it may have that effect seems at least possible. And
as we cannot use words in wrong senses without running a
serious risk of deceiving ourselves as well as others, it appears
better on all accounts to adhere strictly to the common
meaning of the name of God as signifying a powerful supernatural
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page11" id="page11"></a>[pg 11]</span>
and on the whole beneficent spirit, akin in nature to
man; and if any of us have ceased to believe in such a being
we should refrain from applying the old word to the new faith,
and should find some other and more appropriate term to
express our meaning. At all events, speaking for myself, I
intend to use the name of God consistently in the familiar
sense, and I would beg my hearers to bear this steadily in
mind.</p>

<p class="side">Monotheism
and polytheism.</p>

<p>You will have observed that I have spoken of natural
theology as a reasoned knowledge of a God or gods. There
is indeed nothing in the definition of God which I have
adopted to imply that he is unique, in other words, that there
is only one God rather than several or many gods. It is
true that modern European thinkers, bred in a monotheistic
religion, commonly overlook polytheism as a crude theory
unworthy the serious attention of philosophers; in short, the
champions and the assailants of religion in Europe alike for
the most part tacitly assume that there is either one God or
none. Yet some highly civilised nations of antiquity and of
modern times, such as the ancient Egyptians, Greeks, and
Romans, and the modern Chinese and Hindoos, have
accepted the polytheistic explanation of the world, and as
no reasonable man will deny the philosophical subtlety of
the Greeks and the Hindoos, to say nothing of the rest, a
theory of the universe which has commended itself to them
deserves perhaps more consideration than it has commonly
received from Western philosophers; certainly it cannot be
ignored in an historical enquiry into the origin of religion.</p>

<p class="side">A natural knowledge of God can only be acquired by
experience.</p>

<p>If there is such a thing as natural theology, that is, a
knowledge of a God or gods acquired by our natural faculties
alone without the aid of a special revelation, it follows that it
must be obtained by one or other of the methods by which all
our natural knowledge is conveyed to us. Roughly speaking,
these methods are two in number, namely, intuition and experience.
Now if we ask ourselves, Do we know God intuitively
in the same sense in which we know intuitively our own
sensations and the simplest truths of mathematics, I think
most men will acknowledge that they do not. It is true
that according to Berkeley the world exists only as it is
perceived, and that our perceptions of it are produced by the
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page12" id="page12"></a>[pg 12]</span>
immediate action of God on our minds, so that everything
we perceive might be described, if not as an idea in
the mind of the deity, at least as a direct emanation from
him. On this theory we might in a sense be said to have
an immediate knowledge of God. But Berkeley's theory
has found little acceptance, so far as I know, even among
philosophers; and even if we regarded it as true, we should
still have to admit that the knowledge of God implied by it
is inferential rather than intuitive in the strict sense of the
word: we infer God to be the cause of our perceptions
rather than identify him with the perceptions themselves.
On the whole, then, I conclude that man, or at all events the
ordinary man, has, properly speaking, no immediate or
intuitive knowledge of God, and that, if he obtains, without
the aid of revelation, any knowledge of him at all, it can
only be through the other natural channel of knowledge,
that is, through experience.</p>

<p class="side">The
nature of
experience.</p>

<p>In experience, as distinct from intuition, we reach our
conclusions not directly through simple contemplation of the
particular sensations, emotions, or ideas of which we are at
the moment conscious, but indirectly by calling up before
the imagination and comparing with each other our
memories of a variety of sensations, emotions, or ideas of
which we have been conscious in the past, and by selecting
or abstracting from the mental images so compared the
points in which they resemble each other. The points of
resemblance thus selected or abstracted from a number of
particulars compose what we call an abstract or general
idea, and from a comparison of such abstract or general
ideas with each other we arrive at general conclusions, which
define the relations of the ideas to each other. Experience
in general consists in the whole body of conclusions thus
deduced from a comparison of all the particular sensations,
emotions, and ideas which make up the conscious life of the
individual. Hence in order to constitute experience the
mind has to perform a more or less complex series of
operations, which are commonly referred to certain mental
faculties, such as memory, imagination, and judgment.
This analysis of experience does not pretend to be philosophically
complete or exact; but perhaps it is sufficiently
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page13" id="page13"></a>[pg 13]</span>
accurate for the purpose of these lectures, the scope of which
is not philosophical but historical.</p>

<p class="side">Two kinds of experience, the experience of our own mind and
the experience of an external world.</p>

<p>Now experience in the widest sense of the word may
be conveniently distinguished into two sorts, the experience
of our own mind and the experience of an external world.
The distinction is indeed, like the others with which I am
dealing at present, rather practically useful than theoretically
sound; certainly it would not be granted by all philosophers,
for many of them have held that we neither have nor with
our present faculties can possibly attain to any immediate
knowledge or perception of an external world, we merely
infer its existence from our own sensations, which are as
strictly a part of our mind as the ideas and emotions of
our waking life or the visions of sleep. According to them,
the existence of matter or of an external world is, so far as
we are concerned, merely an hypothesis devised to explain
the order of our sensations; it never has been perceived by
any man, woman, or child who ever lived on earth; we have
and can have no immediate knowledge or perception of anything
but the states and operations of our own mind. On this
theory what we call the world, with all its supposed infinitudes
of space and time, its systems of suns and planets,
its seemingly endless forms of inorganic matter and organic
life, shrivels up, on a close inspection, into a fleeting, a
momentary figment of thought. It is like one of those
glass baubles, iridescent with a thousand varied and delicate
hues, which a single touch suffices to shatter into dust. The
philosopher, like the sorcerer, has but to wave his magic
wand,</p>

<div class="poem">  <div class="stanza">
<p>"And, like the baseless fabric of this vision,</p>
<p>The cloud-capped towers, the gorgeous palaces,</p>
<p>The solemn temples, the great globe itself,</p>
<p>Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve</p>
<p>And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,</p>
<p>Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff</p>
<p>As dreams are made on, and our little life</p>
<p>Is rounded with a sleep."</p>
  </div>  </div>

<p class="side">The distinction rather popular and convenient than
philosophically strict.</p>

<p>It would be beyond my province, even if it were within
my power, to discuss these airy speculations, and thereby to
descend into the arena where for ages subtle dialecticians
have battled with each other over the reality or unreality of
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page14" id="page14"></a>[pg 14]</span>
an external world. For my purpose it suffices to adopt the
popular and convenient distinction of mind and matter and
hence to divide experience into two sorts, an inward experience
of the acts and states of our own minds, and an outward
experience of the acts and states of that physical universe
by which we seem to be surrounded.</p>

<p class="side">The knowledge or conception of God has been attained both by
inward and by outward experience.</p>

<p>Now if a natural knowledge of God is only possible
by means of experience, in other words, by a process of
reasoning based on observation, it will follow that such a
knowledge may conceivably be acquired either by the way
of inward or of outward experience; in other words, it may
be attained either by reflecting on the processes of our own
minds or by observing the processes of external nature.
In point of fact, if we survey the history of thought, mankind
appears to have arrived at a knowledge, or at all events at
a conception, of deity by both these roads.  Let me say a
few words as to the two roads which lead, or seem to lead,
man to God.</p>

<p class="side">The conception of God is attained by inward experience, that
is, by the observation of certain remarkable thoughts and feelings which
are attributed to the inspiration of a deity. Practical dangers of the
theory of inspiration.</p>

<p>In the first place, then, men in many lands and many
ages have experienced certain extraordinary emotions and
entertained certain extraordinary ideas, which, unable to
account for them by reference to the ordinary forms of
experience, they have set down to the direct action of a
powerful spirit or deity working on their minds and even
entering into and taking possession of their bodies; and in
this excited state&mdash;for violent excitement is characteristic
of these manifestations&mdash;the patient believes himself to
be possessed of supernatural knowledge and supernatural
power. This real or supposed mode of apprehending a
divine spirit and entering into communion with it, is
commonly and appropriately called inspiration. The phenomenon
is familiar to us from the example of the Hebrew
nation, who believed that their prophets were thus inspired
by the deity, and that their sacred books were regularly
composed under the divine afflatus. The belief is by no
means singular, indeed it appears to be world-wide; for it
would be hard to point to any race of men among whom
instances of such inspiration have not been reported; and
the more ignorant and savage the race the more numerous,
to judge by the reports, are the cases of inspiration. Volumes
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page15" id="page15"></a>[pg 15]</span>
might be filled with examples, but through the spread
of information as to the lower races in recent years the
topic has become so familiar that I need not stop to
illustrate it by instances. I will merely say that among
savages the theory of inspiration or possession is commonly
invoked to explain all abnormal mental states, particularly
insanity or conditions of mind bordering on it, so that
persons more or less crazed in their wits, and particularly
hysterical or epileptic patients, are for that very reason
thought to be peculiarly favoured by the spirits and are
therefore consulted as oracles, their wild and whirling words
passing for the revelations of a higher power, whether a
god or a ghost, who considerately screens his too dazzling
light under a thick veil of dark sayings and mysterious
ejaculations.<a id="footnotetag2" name="footnotetag2"></a><a href="#footnote2"><sup>2</sup></a> I need hardly point out the very serious
dangers which menace any society where such theories
are commonly held and acted upon. If the decisions
of a whole community in matters of the gravest importance
are left to turn on the wayward fancies, the whims and
vagaries of the insane or the semi-insane, what are likely
to be the consequences to the commonwealth? What, for
example, can be expected to result from a war entered upon
at such dictation and waged under such auspices? Are cattle-breeding,
agriculture, commerce, all the arts of life on which a
people depend for their subsistence, likely to thrive when they
are directed by the ravings of epilepsy or the drivellings of
hysteria? Defeat in battle, conquest by enemies, death by
famine and widespread disease, these and a thousand other
lesser evils threaten the blind people who commit themselves
to such blind guides. The history of savage and barbarous
tribes, could we follow it throughout, might furnish us with
a thousand warning instances of the fatal effects of carrying
out this crude theory of inspiration to its logical conclusions;
and if we hear less than might be expected of such instances,
it is probably because the tribes who consistently acted up
to their beliefs have thereby wiped themselves out of existence:
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page16" id="page16"></a>[pg 16]</span>
they have perished the victims of their folly and left
no record behind. I believe that historians have not yet
reckoned sufficiently with the disastrous influence which this
worship of insanity,&mdash;for it is often nothing less&mdash;has exercised
on the fortunes of peoples and on the development or
decay of their institutions.</p>

<p class="side">The belief in inspiration leads to the worship of living men
as gods. Outward experience as a source of the idea of God.</p>

<p>To a certain extent, however, the evil has provided its
own remedy. For men of strong heads and ambitious
temper, perceiving the exorbitant power which a belief in
inspiration places in the hands of the feeble-minded, have
often feigned to be similarly afflicted, and trading on their
reputation for imbecility, or rather inspiration, have acquired
an authority over their fellows which, though they have often
abused it for vulgar ends, they have sometimes exerted for
good, as for example by giving sound advice in matters of
public concern, applying salutary remedies to the sick, and
detecting and punishing crime, whereby they have helped to
preserve the commonwealth, to alleviate suffering, and to
cement that respect for law and order which is essential to
the stability of society, and without which any community
must fall to pieces like a house of cards. These great
services have been rendered to the cause of civilisation and
progress by the class of men who in primitive society are
variously known as medicine-men, magicians, sorcerers,
diviners, soothsayers, and so forth. Sometimes the respect
which they have gained by the exercise of their profession
has won for them political as well as spiritual or ghostly
authority; in short, from being simple medicine-men
or sorcerers they have grown into chiefs and kings.
When such men, seated on the throne of state, retain their
old reputation for being the vehicles of a divine spirit, they
may be worshipped in the character of gods as well as
revered in the capacity of kings; and thus exerting a two-fold
sway over the minds of men they possess a most potent
instrument for elevating or depressing the fortunes of their
worshippers and subjects. In this way the old savage notion
of inspiration or possession gradually develops into the
doctrine of the divinity of kings, which after a long period of
florescence dwindles away into the modest theory that kings
reign by divine right, a theory familiar to our ancestors not
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page17" id="page17"></a>[pg 17]</span>
long ago, and perhaps not wholly obsolete among us even
now. However, inspired men need not always blossom out
into divine kings; they may, and often do, remain in the
chrysalis state of simple deities revered by their simple
worshippers, their brows encircled indeed with a halo of
divinity but not weighted with the more solid substance
of a kingly crown. Thus certain extraordinary mental
states, which those who experience and those who witness
them cannot account for in any other way, are often
explained by the supposed interposition of a spirit or deity.
This, therefore, is one of the two forms of experience by
which men attain, or imagine that they attain, to a knowledge
of God and a communion with him. It is what I
have called the road of inward experience. Let us now
glance at the other form of experience which leads, or
seems to lead, to the same goal. It is what I have called
the road of outward experience.</p>

<p class="side">Tendency of the mind to search for causes, and the necessity
for their discovery.</p>

<p>When we contemplate the seemingly infinite variety,
the endless succession, of events that pass under our observation
in what we call the external world, we are led by an
irresistible tendency to trace what we call a causal connexion
between them. The tendency to discover the causes of
things appears indeed to be innate in the constitution of
our minds and indispensable to our continued existence.
It is the link that arrests and colligates into convenient
bundles the mass of particulars drifting pell-mell past on the
stream of sensation; it is the cement that binds into an
edifice seemingly of adamant the loose sand of isolated
perceptions. Deprived of the knowledge which this tendency
procures for us we should be powerless to foresee the succession
of phenomena and so to adapt ourselves to it. We should be
bewildered by the apparent disorder and confusion of everything,
we should toss on a sea without a rudder, we should
wander in an endless maze without a clue, and finding no
way out of it, or, in plain words, unable to avoid a single
one of the dangers which menace us at every turn, we should
inevitably perish. Accordingly the propensity to search for
causes is characteristic of man in all ages and at all levels of
culture, though without doubt it is far more highly developed
in civilised than in savage communities. Among savages
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page18" id="page18"></a>[pg 18]</span>
it is more or less unconscious and instinctive; among
civilised men it is deliberately cultivated and rewarded
at least by the applause of their fellows, by the
dignity, if not by the more solid recompenses, of learning.
Indeed as civilisation progresses the enquiry into causes
tends to absorb more and more of the highest intellectual
energies of a people; and an ever greater number of men,
renouncing the bustle, the pleasures, and the ambitions of an
active life, devote themselves exclusively to the pursuit of
abstract truth; they set themselves to discover the causes of
things, to trace the regularity and order that may be supposed
to underlie the seemingly irregular, confused, and arbitrary
sequence of phenomena. Unquestionably the progress of
civilisation owes much to the sustained efforts of such men, and
if of late years and within our own memory the pace of
progress has sensibly quickened, we shall perhaps not err in
supposing that some part at least of the acceleration may be
accounted for by an increase in the number of lifelong students.</p>

<p class="side">The idea of cause is simply that of invariable sequence
suggested by the observation of many particular cases of sequence.</p>

<p>Now when we analyse the conception of a cause to the
bottom, we find as the last residuum in our crucible nothing
but what Hume found there long ago, and that is simply the
idea of invariable sequence.  Whenever we say that something
is the cause of something else, all that we really mean
is that the latter is invariably preceded by the former, so
that whenever we find the second, which we call the effect,
we may infer that the first, which we call the cause, has gone
before it.  All such inferences from effects to causes are
based on experience; having observed a certain sequence of
events a certain number of times, we conclude that the events
are so conjoined that the latter cannot occur without the
previous occurrence of the former. A single case of two
events following each other could not of itself suggest that
the one event is the cause of the other, since there is no
necessary link between them in the mind; the sequence has
to be repeated more or less frequently before we infer a
causal connexion between the two; and this inference rests
simply on that association of ideas which is established in
our mind by the reiterated observation of the things. Once
the ideas are by dint of repetition firmly welded together,
the one by sheer force of habit calls up the other, and we say
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page19" id="page19"></a>[pg 19]</span>
that the two things which are represented by those ideas
stand to each other in the relation of cause and effect. The
notion of causality is in short only one particular case of the
association of ideas. Thus all reasoning as to causes implies
previous observation: we reason from the observed to the
unobserved, from the known to the unknown; and the wider
the range of our observation and knowledge, the greater the
probability that our reasoning will be correct.</p>

<p class="side">The savage draws his ideas of natural causation from
observation of himself. Hence he explains the phenomena of nature by
supposing that they are produced by beings like himself. These beings
may be called spirits or gods of nature to distinguish them from living
human gods.</p>

<p>All this is as true of the savage as of the civilised man.
He too argues, and indeed can only argue on the basis of
experience from the known to the unknown, from the
observed to the hypothetical. But the range of his experience
is comparatively narrow, and accordingly his inferences
from it often appear to civilised men, with their wider knowledge,
to be palpably false and absurd. This holds good
most obviously in regard to his observation of external nature.
While he often knows a good deal about the natural objects,
whether animals, plants, or inanimate things, on which he is
immediately dependent for his subsistence, the extent of
country with which he is acquainted is commonly but small,
and he has little or no opportunity of correcting the conclusions
which he bases on his observation of it by a comparison
with other parts of the world. But if he knows little of
the outer world, he is necessarily somewhat better acquainted
with his own inner life, with his sensations and ideas, his
emotions, appetites, and desires. Accordingly it is natural
enough that when he seeks to discover the causes of events
in the external world, he should, arguing from experience,
imagine that they are produced by the actions of invisible
beings like himself, who behind the veil of nature pull the
strings that set the vast machinery in motion. For example,
he knows by experience that he can make sparks fly by
knocking two flints against each other; what more natural,
therefore, than that he should imagine the great sparks which
we call lightning to be made in the same way by somebody
up aloft, and that when he finds chipped flints on the ground
he should take them for thunder-stones dropped by the
maker of thunder and lightning from the clouds?<a id="footnotetag3" name="footnotetag3"></a><a href="#footnote3"><sup>3</sup></a> Thus
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page20" id="page20"></a>[pg 20]</span>
arguing from his limited experience primitive man creates a
multitude of spirits or gods in his own likeness to explain
the succession of phenomena in nature of whose true causes
he is ignorant; in short he personifies the phenomena as
powerful anthropomorphic spirits, and believing himself to
be more or less dependent on their good will he woos their
favour by prayer and sacrifice. This personification of the
various aspects of external nature is one of the most fruitful
sources of polytheism. The spirits and gods created by
this train of thought may be called spirits and gods of
nature to distinguish them from the human gods, by which
I mean the living men and women who are believed by
their worshippers to be inspired or possessed by a divine
spirit.</p>

<p class="side">In time men reject polytheism as an explanation of natural
processes and substitute certain abstract ideas of ethers, atoms,
molecules, and so on.</p>

<p>But as time goes on and men learn more about nature,
they commonly become dissatisfied with polytheism as an
explanation of the world and gradually discard it. From one
department of nature after another the gods are reluctantly
or contemptuously dismissed and their provinces committed
to the care of certain abstract ideas of ethers, atoms,
molecules, and so forth, which, though just as imperceptible
to human senses as their divine predecessors, are judged by
prevailing opinion to discharge their duties with greater
regularity and despatch, and are accordingly firmly installed
on the vacant thrones amid the general applause of the more
enlightened portion of mankind. Thus instead of being
peopled with a noisy bustling crowd of full-blooded and
picturesque deities, clothed in the graceful form and animated
with the warm passions of humanity, the universe outside
the narrow circle of our consciousness is now conceived as
absolutely silent, colourless, and deserted. The cheerful
sounds which we hear, the bright hues which we see, have
no existence, we are told, in the external world: the
voices of friends, the harmonies of music, the chime of
falling waters, the solemn roll of ocean, the silver splendour
of the moon, the golden glories of sunset, the verdure
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page21" id="page21"></a>[pg 21]</span>
of summer woods, and the hectic tints of autumn&mdash;all
these subsist only in our own minds, and if we imagine
them to have any reality elsewhere, we deceive ourselves.
In fact the whole external world as perceived by us is
one great illusion: if we gave the reins to fancy we
might call it a mirage, a piece of witchery, conjured
up by the spells of some unknown magician to bewilder
poor ignorant humanity. Outside of ourselves there
stretches away on every side an infinitude of space without
sound, without light, without colour, a solitude traversed only
in every direction by an inconceivably complex web of
silent and impersonal forces. That, if I understand it
aright, is the general conception of the world which modern
science has substituted for polytheism.</p>

<p class="side">But while they commonly discard the hypothesis of a deity as
an explanation of all the particular processes of nature, they retain it
as an explanation of nature in general.</p>

<p>When philosophy and science by their combined efforts
have ejected gods and goddesses from all the subordinate
posts of nature, it might perhaps be expected that they
would have no further occasion for the services of a deity,
and that having relieved him of all his particular functions
they would have arranged for the creation and general
maintenance of the universe without him by handing over
these important offices to an efficient staff of those ethers,
atoms, corpuscles, and so forth, which had already proved
themselves so punctual in the discharge of the minor
duties entrusted to them. Nor, indeed, is this expectation
altogether disappointed. A number of atheistical philosophers
have courageously come forward and assured us that
the hypothesis of a deity as the creator and preserver of the
universe is quite superfluous, and that all things came into
being or have existed from eternity without the help of any
divine spirit, and that they will continue to exist without it
to the end, if end indeed there is to be. But on the whole
these daring speculators appear to be in a minority. The
general opinion of educated people at the present day, could
we ascertain it, would probably be found to incline to the
conclusion that, though every department of nature is now
worked by impersonal material forces alone, the universe as
a whole was created and is still maintained by a great supernatural
spirit whom we call God. Thus in Europe and in
the countries which have borrowed their civilisation, their
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page22" id="page22"></a>[pg 22]</span>
philosophy, and their religion from it, the central problem of
natural theology has narrowed itself down to the question, Is
there one God or none? It is a profound question, and I
for one profess myself unable to answer it.</p>

<p class="side">Whether attained by inward or outward experience, the idea of
God is regularly that of a cause inferred, not perceived.</p>

<p>If this brief sketch of the history of natural theology is
correct, man has by the exercise of his natural faculties alone,
without the help of revelation, attained to a knowledge or at
least to a conception of God in one of two ways, either
by meditating on the operations of his own mind, or by
observing the processes of external nature: inward experience
and outward experience have conducted him by
different roads to the same goal. By whichever of them
the conception has been reached, it is regularly employed to
explain the causal connexion of things, whether the things
to be explained are the ideas and emotions of man himself
or the changes in the physical world outside of him. In
short, a God is always brought in to play the part of
a cause; it is the imperious need of tracing the causes
of events which has driven man to discover or invent a
deity. Now causes may be arranged in two classes according
as they are perceived or unperceived by the senses. For
example, when we see the impact of a billiard cue on a
billiard ball followed immediately by the motion of the ball,
we say that the impact is the cause of the motion. In this
case we perceive the cause as well as the effect. But, when
we see an apple fall from a tree to the ground, we say that
the cause of the fall is the force of gravitation exercised
by the superior mass of the earth on the inferior mass of the
apple. In this case, though we perceive the effect, we
do not perceive the cause, we only infer it by a process
of reasoning from experience. Causes of the latter sort may
be called inferential or hypothetical causes to distinguish
them from those which are perceived. Of the two classes of
causes a deity belongs in general, if not universally, to the
second, that is, to the inferential or hypothetical causes; for
as a rule at all events his existence is not perceived by our
senses but inferred by our reason. To say that he has
never appeared in visible and tangible form to men would be
to beg the question; it would be to make an assertion which
is incapable of proof and which is contradicted by a multitude
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page23" id="page23"></a>[pg 23]</span>
of contrary affirmations recorded in the traditions or the
sacred books of many races; but without being rash we may
perhaps say that such appearances, if they ever took place,
belong to a past order of events and need hardly be reckoned
with at the present time. For all practical purposes, therefore,
God is now a purely inferential or hypothetical cause;
he may be invoked to explain either our own thoughts and
feelings, our impulses and emotions, or the manifold states
and processes of external nature; he may be viewed either
as the inspirer of the one or the creator and preserver of the
other; and according as he is mainly regarded from the one
point of view or the other, the conception of the divine
nature tends to beget one of two very different types of
piety. To the man who traces the finger of God in the
workings of his own mind, the deity appears to be far closer
than he seems to the man who only infers the divine
existence from the marvellous order, harmony, and beauty
of the external world; and we need not wonder that the
faith of the former is of a more fervent temper and supplies
him with more powerful incentives to a life of active devotion
than the calm and rational faith of the latter. We may
conjecture that the piety of most great religious reformers
has belonged to the former rather than to the latter type; in
other words, that they have believed in God because they
felt, or imagined that they felt, him stirring in their own
hearts rather than because they discerned the handiwork of
a divine artificer in the wonderful mechanism of nature.</p>

<p class="side">Besides the two sorts of gods already distinguished, namely
natural gods and living human gods, there is a third sort which has
played an important part in history, namely, the spirits of deified dead
men. Euhemerism.</p>

<p>Thus far I have distinguished two sorts of gods whom
man discovers or creates for himself by the exercise of his
unaided faculties, to wit natural gods, whom he infers from
his observation of external nature, and human gods or
inspired men, whom he recognises by virtue of certain extraordinary
mental manifestations in himself or in others. But
there is another class of human gods which I have not yet
mentioned and which has played a very important part in
the evolution of theology. I mean the deified spirits of dead
men. To judge by the accounts we possess not only of
savage and barbarous tribes but of some highly civilised
peoples, the worship of the human dead has been one of the
commonest and most influential forms of natural religion,
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page24" id="page24"></a>[pg 24]</span>
perhaps indeed the commonest and most influential of all.
Obviously it rests on the supposition that the human
personality in some form, whether we call it a soul, a spirit,
a ghost, or what not, can survive death and thereafter continue
for a longer or shorter time to exercise great power
for good or evil over the destinies of the living, who are
therefore compelled to propitiate the shades of the dead out
of a regard for their own safety and well-being. This
belief in the survival of the human spirit after death is
world-wide; it is found among men in all stages of culture
from the lowest to the highest; we need not wonder therefore
that the custom of propitiating the ghosts or souls
of the departed should be world-wide also. No doubt
the degree of attention paid to ghosts is not the same
in all cases; it varies with the particular degree of power
attributed to each of them; the spirits of men who for
any reason were much feared in their lifetime, such as
mighty warriors, chiefs, and kings, are more revered and
receive far more marks of homage than the spirits of
common men; and it is only when this reverence and
homage are carried to a very high pitch that they can
properly be described as a deification of the dead. But
that dead men have thus been raised to the rank of deities
in many lands, there is abundant evidence to prove. And
quite apart from the worship paid to those spirits which are
admitted by their worshippers to have once animated the
bodies of living men, there is good reason to suspect that
many gods, who rank as purely mythical beings, were once
men of flesh and blood, though their true history has passed
out of memory or rather been transformed by legend into a
myth, which veils more or less completely the real character
of the imaginary deity. The theory that most or all gods
originated after this fashion, in other words, that the worship
of the gods is little or nothing but the worship of dead men, is
known as Euhemerism from Euhemerus, the ancient Greek
writer who propounded it. Regarded as a universal explanation
of the belief in gods it is certainly false; regarded as a
partial explanation of the belief it is unquestionably true;
and perhaps we may even go further and say, that the more
we penetrate into the inner history of natural religion,
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page25" id="page25"></a>[pg 25]</span>
the larger is seen to be the element of truth contained in
Euhemerism. For the more closely we look at many deities
of natural religion, the more distinctly do we seem to
perceive, under the quaint or splendid pall which the
mythical fancy has wrapt round their stately figures, the
familiar features of real men, who once shared the common
joys and the common sorrows of humanity, who trod life's
common road to the common end.</p>

<p class="side">The deification of dead men presupposes the immortality of
the human soul, or rather its survival for a longer or shorter time
after death.</p>

<p>When we ask how it comes about that dead men have
so often been raised to the rank of divinities, the first thing
to be observed is that all such deifications must, if our theory
is correct, be inferences drawn from experience of some sort;
they must be hypotheses devised to explain the unperceived
causes of certain phenomena, whether of the human mind
or of external nature. All of them imply, as I have said, a
belief that the conscious human personality, call it the soul,
the spirit, or what you please, can survive the body and
continue to exist in a disembodied state with unabated or
even greatly increased powers for good or evil. This faith
in the survival of personality after death may for the sake of
brevity be called a faith in immortality, though the term
immortality is not strictly correct, since it seems to imply
eternal duration, whereas the idea of eternity is hardly
intelligible to many primitive peoples, who nevertheless
firmly believe in the continued existence, for a longer or
shorter time, of the human spirit after the dissolution of the
body. Now the faith in the immortality of the soul or, to
speak more correctly, in the continued existence of conscious
human personality after death, is, as I remarked before, exceedingly
common among men at all levels of intellectual
evolution from the lowest upwards; certainly it is not
peculiar to adherents of the higher religions, but is held as
an unquestionable truth by at least the great majority of
savage and barbarous peoples as to whose ideas we possess
accurate information; indeed it might be hard to point to
any single tribe of men, however savage, of whom we could
say with certainty that the faith is totally wanting among
them.</p>

<p class="side">The question of immortality is a fundamental problem of
natural theology in the wider sense.</p>

<p>Hence if we are to explain the deification of dead men,
we must first explain the widespread belief in immortality;
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page26" id="page26"></a>[pg 26]</span>
we must answer the question, how does it happen that men
in all countries and at all stages of ignorance or knowledge
so commonly suppose that when they die their consciousness
will still persist for an indefinite time after the decay of the
body? To answer that question is one of the fundamental
problems of natural theology, not indeed in the full sense
of the word theology, if we confine the term strictly to a
reasoned knowledge of a God; for the example of Buddhism
proves that a belief in the existence of the human soul after
death is quite compatible with disbelief in a deity. But if
we may use, as I think we may, the phrase natural theology
in an extended sense to cover theories which, though they
do not in themselves affirm the existence of a God, nevertheless
appear to be one of the deepest and most fruitful
sources of the belief in his reality, then we may legitimately
say that the doctrine of human immortality does fall within
the scope of natural theology. What then is its origin?
How is it that men so commonly believe themselves to be
immortal?</p>

<p class="side">If there is any natural knowledge of immortality, it must be
acquired either by intuition or experience; it is apparently not given
by intuition; hence it must be acquired, if at all, by experience.</p>

<p>If there is any natural knowledge of human immortality, it must be
acquired either by intuition or by experience; there is no other way.
Now whether other men from a simple contemplation of their own nature,
quite apart from reasoning, know or believe themselves intuitively to be
immortal, I cannot say; but I can say with some confidence that for
myself I have no such intuition whatever of my own immortality, and that
if I am left to the resources of my natural faculties alone, I can as
little affirm the certain or probable existence of my personality after
death as I can affirm the certain or probable existence of a personal
God. And I am bold enough to suspect that if men could analyse their own
ideas, they would generally find themselves to be in a similar
predicament as to both these profound topics. Hence I incline to lay it
down as a probable proposition that men as a rule have no intuitive
knowledge of their own immortality, and that if there is any natural
knowledge of such a thing it can only be acquired by a process of
reasoning from experience.<a id="footnotetag4" name="footnotetag4"></a><a href="#footnote4"><sup>4</sup></a></p>

<span class="pagenum"><a name="page27" id="page27"></a>[pg 27]</span>
<p class="side">The idea of immortality seems to have been suggested to man
both by his inward and his outward experience, notably by dreams, which
are a case of inward experience.</p>

<p>What then is the kind of experience from which the
theory of human immortality is deduced?  Is it our experience
of the operations of our own minds? or is it our
experience of external nature? As a matter of historical
fact&mdash;and you will remember that I am treating the question
purely from the historical standpoint&mdash;men seem to have
inferred the persistence of their personality after death both
from the one kind of experience and from the other, that is,
both from the phenomena of their inner life and from the
phenomena of what we call the external world. Thus the
savage, with whose beliefs we are chiefly concerned in these
lectures, finds a very strong argument for immortality in the
phenomena of dreams, which are strictly a part of his inner
life, though in his ignorance he commonly fails to discriminate
them from what we popularly call waking realities. Hence
when the images of persons whom he knows to be dead
appear to him in a dream, he naturally infers that these
persons still exist somewhere and somehow apart from their
bodies, of the decay or destruction of which he may have
had ocular demonstration. How could he see dead people,
he asks, if they did not exist? To argue that they have
perished like their bodies is to contradict the plain evidence
of his senses; for to the savage still more than to the civilised
man seeing is believing; that he sees the dead only
in dreams does not shake his belief, since he thinks the
appearances of dreams just as real as the appearances of
his waking hours. And once he has in this way gained a
conviction that the dead survive and can help or harm him,
as they seem to do in dreams, it is natural or necessary
for him to extend the theory to the occurrences of daily
life, which, as I have said, he does not sharply distinguish
from the visions of slumber. He now explains many of
these occurrences and many of the processes of nature by
the direct interposition of the spirits of the departed; he
traces their invisible hand in many of the misfortunes and
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page28" id="page28"></a>[pg 28]</span>
in some of the blessings which befall him; for it is a common
feature of the faith in ghosts, at least among savages, that
they are usually spiteful and mischievous, or at least testy and
petulant, more apt to injure than to benefit the survivors.
In that they resemble the personified spirits of nature,
which in the opinion of most savages appear to be generally
tricky and malignant beings, whose anger is dangerous and
whose favour is courted with fear and trembling. Thus even
without the additional assurance afforded by tales of apparitions
and spectres, primitive man may come in time to imagine
the world around him to be more or less thickly peopled,
influenced, and even dominated by a countless multitude of
spirits, among whom the shades of past generations of men
and women hold a very prominent, often apparently the
leading place. These spirits, powerful to help or harm, he
seeks either simply to avert, when he deems them purely
mischievous, or to appease and conciliate, when he supposes
them sufficiently good-natured to respond to his advances.
In some such way as this, arguing from the real but, as we
think, misinterpreted phenomena of dreams, the savage may
arrive at a doctrine of human immortality and from that at
a worship of the dead.</p>

<p class="side">It has also been suggested by the resemblance of the living
to the dead, which is a case of outward experience.</p>

<p>This explanation of the savage faith in immortality is
neither novel nor original: on the contrary it is perhaps the
commonest and most familiar that has yet been propounded.
If it does not account for all the facts, it probably accounts
for many of them. At the same time I do not doubt that
many other inferences drawn from experiences of different
kinds have confirmed, even if they did not originally suggest,
man's confident belief in his own immortality.  To take
a single example of outward experience, the resemblances
which children often bear to deceased kinsfolk appear to
have prompted in the minds of many savages the notion
that the souls of these dead kinsfolk have been born again
in their descendants.<a id="footnotetag5" name="footnotetag5"></a><a href="#footnote5"><sup>5</sup></a> From a few cases of resemblances so
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page29" id="page29"></a>[pg 29]</span>
explained it would be easy to arrive at a general theory
that all living persons are animated by the souls of the dead;
in other words, that the human spirit survives death for an
indefinite period, if not for eternity, during which it undergoes
a series of rebirths or reincarnations. However it has been
arrived at, this doctrine of the transmigration or reincarnation
of the soul is found among many tribes of savages; and from
what we know on the subject we seem to be justified in conjecturing
that at certain stages of mental and social evolution
the belief in metempsychosis has been far commoner and
has exercised a far deeper influence on the life and institutions
of primitive man than the actual evidence before us
at present allows us positively to affirm.</p>


<p class="side">The aim of these lectures is to collect a number of facts
illustrative of the belief in immortality and of the customs based on it
among some of the lower races.</p>

<p>Be that as it may&mdash;and I have no wish to dogmatise on
so obscure a topic&mdash;it is certain that a belief in the survival
of the human personality after death and the practice of a
propitiation or worship of the dead have prevailed very
widely among mankind and have played a very important
part in the development of natural religion. While many
writers have duly recognised the high importance both of the
belief and of the worship, no one, so far as I know, has
attempted systematically to collect and arrange the facts
which illustrate the prevalence of this particular type of
religion among the various races of mankind. A large body
of evidence lies to hand in the voluminous and rapidly
increasing literature of ethnology; but it is dispersed over
an enormous number of printed books and papers, to say
nothing of the materials which still remain buried either in
manuscript or in the minds of men who possess the requisite
knowledge but have not yet committed it to writing. To
draw all those stores of information together and digest them
into a single treatise would be a herculean labour, from which
even the most industrious researcher into the dusty annals
of the human past might shrink dismayed.  Certainly I
shall make no attempt to perform such a feat within the
narrow compass of these lectures. But it seems to me that
I may make a useful, if a humble, contribution to the history
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page30" id="page30"></a>[pg 30]</span>
of religion by selecting a portion of the evidence and submitting
it to my hearers. For that purpose, instead of
accumulating a mass of facts from all the various races of
mankind and then comparing them together, I prefer to limit
myself to a few races and to deal with each of them
separately, beginning with the lowest savages, about whom
we possess accurate information, and gradually ascending to
peoples who stand higher in the scale of culture. In short
the method of treatment which I shall adopt will be the
descriptive rather than the comparative. I shall not
absolutely refrain from instituting comparisons between the
customs and beliefs of different races, but for the most part
I shall content myself with describing the customs and
beliefs of each race separately without reference to those of
others. Each of the two methods, the comparative and the
descriptive, has its peculiar advantages and disadvantages,
and in my published writings I have followed now the one
method and now the other. The comparative method is
unquestionably the more attractive and stimulating, but it
cannot be adopted without a good deal of more or less
conscious theorising, since every comparison implicitly
involves a theory. If we desire to exclude theories and
merely accumulate facts for the use of science, the descriptive
method is undoubtedly the better adapted for the
arrangement of our materials: it may not stimulate enquiry
so powerfully, but it lays a more solid foundation on which
future enquirers may build. It is as a collection of facts
illustrative of the belief in immortality and of all the
momentous consequences which have flowed from that belief,
that I desire the following lectures to be regarded. They
are intended to serve simply as a document of religious
history; they make no pretence to discuss philosophically
the truth of the beliefs and the morality of the practices
which will be passed under review. If any inferences can
indeed be drawn from the facts to the truth or falsehood of
the beliefs and to the moral worth or worthlessness of the
practices, I prefer to leave it to others more competent than
myself to draw them. My sight is not keen enough, my
hand is not steady enough to load the scales and hold the
balance in so difficult and delicate an enquiry.</p>
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page31" id="page31"></a>[pg 31]</span>


<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote1" name="footnote1"></a><b>Footnote 1:</b><a href="#footnotetag1"> (return) </a><p> Matthew Arnold, <i>Literature and Dogma</i>, ch. i., p. 31 (Popular Edition,
London, 1893).</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote2" name="footnote2"></a><b>Footnote 2:</b><a href="#footnotetag2"> (return) </a><p> For a single instance see L. Sternberg, "Die Religion der
Giljaken," <i>Archiv f&uuml;r Religionswissenschaft</i>, viii. (1905) pp. 462
<i>sqq.</i>, where the writer tells us that the Gilyaks have boundless
faith in the supernatural power of their shamans, and that the shamans
are nearly always persons who suffer from hysteria in one form or
another.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote3" name="footnote3"></a><b>Footnote 3:</b><a href="#footnotetag3"> (return) </a><p> As to the widespread belief that flint weapons are
thunderbolts see Sir E. B. Tylor, <i>Researches into the Early History
of Mankind</i>, Third Edition (London, 1878), pp. 223-227; Chr.
Blinkenberg, <i>The Thunderweapon in Religion and Folklore</i>
(Cambridge, 1911); W. W. Skeat "Snakestones and Thunderbolts,"
<i>Folk-lore</i>, xxiii. (1912) pp. 60 <i>sqq.</i>; and the references
in <i>The Magic Art and the Evolution of Kings</i>, ii. 374.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote4" name="footnote4"></a><b>Footnote 4:</b><a href="#footnotetag4"> (return) </a><p> Wordsworth, who argues strongly, almost passionately, for
"the consciousness of a principle of Immortality in the human soul,"
admits that "the sense of Immortality, if not a coexistent and twin
birth with Reason, is among the earliest of her offspring." See his
<i>Essay upon Epitaphs</i>, appended to <i>The Excursion</i>
(<i>Poetical Works</i>, London, 1832, vol. iv. pp. 336, 338). This
somewhat hesitating admission of the inferential nature of the belief in
immortality carries all the more weight because it is made by so warm an
advocate of human immortality.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote5" name="footnote5"></a><b>Footnote 5:</b><a href="#footnotetag5"> (return) </a><p> For instance, the Kagoro of Northern Nigeria believe that
"a spirit may transmigrate into the body of a descendant born
afterwards, male or female; in fact, this is common, as is proved by the
likeness of children to their parents or grand-parents, and it is lucky,
for the ghost has returned, and has no longer any power to frighten the
relatives until the new body dies, and it is free again" (Major A. J. N.
Tremearne, "Notes on some Nigerian Head-hunters," <i>Journal of the R.
Anthropological Institute</i>, xlii. (1912) p. 159). Compare <i>Taboo
and the Perils of the Soul</i>, pp. 88 <i>sq.</i>; <i>The Dying God</i>,
p. 287 (p. 288, Second Impression).</p></blockquote>


<h2><a name="lecture-ii" id="lecture-ii"></a>LECTURE II</h2>

<h3>THE SAVAGE CONCEPTION OF DEATH</h3>


<p class="side">The subject of these lectures is the belief in immortality
and the worship of the dead.</p>

<p>Last day I explained the subject of which I propose to
treat and the method which I intend to follow in these
lectures. I shall describe the belief in immortality, or rather
in the continued existence of the human soul after death, as
that belief is found among certain of the lower races, and I
shall give some account of the religion which has been
based upon it. That religion is in brief a propitiation or
worship of the human dead, who according to the degree of
power ascribed to them by the living are supposed to vary
in dignity from the humble rank of a mere common ghost
up to the proud position of deity. The elements of such a
worship appear to exist among all races of men, though in
some they have been much more highly developed than
in others.</p>

<p class="side">Preliminary account of savage beliefs concerning the nature
and origin of death.</p>

<p>But before I address myself to the description of particular
races, I wish in this and the following lecture to give you
some general account of the beliefs of savages concerning
the nature and origin of death. The problem of death has
very naturally exercised the minds of men in all ages.
Unlike so many problems which interest only a few solitary
thinkers this one concerns us all alike, since simpletons as
well as sages must die, and even the most heedless and
feather-brained can hardly help sometimes asking themselves
what comes after death. The question is therefore
thrust in a practical, indeed importunate form on our attention;
and we need not wonder that in the long history of
human speculation some of the highest intellects should have
occupied themselves with it and sought to find an answer
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page32" id="page32"></a>[pg 32]</span>
to the riddle. Some of their solutions of the problem,
though dressed out in all the beauty of exquisite language
and poetic imagery, singularly resemble the rude guesses of
savages. So little, it would seem, do the natural powers
even of the greatest minds avail to pierce the thick veil that
hides the end of life.</p>

<p class="side">The problem of death is one of universal interest.</p>

<p>In saying that the problem is thrust home upon us
all, I do not mean to imply that all men are constantly
or even often engaged in meditating on the nature and origin
of death. Far from it. Few people trouble themselves about
that or any other purely abstract question: the common man
would probably not give a straw for an answer to it. What he
wants to know, what we all want to know, is whether death
is the end of all things for the individual, whether our conscious
personality perishes with the body or survives it for a
time or for eternity. That is the enigma propounded to
every human being who has been born into the world: that
is the door at which so many enquirers have knocked in
vain. Stated in this limited form the problem has indeed
been of universal interest: there is no race of men known
to us which has not pondered the mystery and arrived at
some conclusions to which it more or less confidently
adheres. Not that all races have paid an equal attention
to it. On some it has weighed much more heavily than on
others. While some races, like some individuals, take death
almost lightly, and are too busy with the certainties of the
present world to pay much heed to the uncertainties of a
world to come, the minds of others have dwelt on the
prospect of a life beyond the grave till the thought of it
has risen with them to a passion, almost to an obsession,
and has begotten a contempt for the fleeting joys of this
ephemeral existence by comparison with the hoped-for bliss
of an eternal existence hereafter. To the sceptic, examining
the evidence for immortality by the cold light of reason, such
peoples and such individuals may seem to sacrifice the substance
for the shadow: to adopt a homely comparison, they
are like the dog in the fable who dropped the real leg of
mutton, from his mouth in order to snap at its reflection in
the water. Be that as it may, where such beliefs and hopes
are entertained in full force, the whole activity of the mind
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page33" id="page33"></a>[pg 33]</span>
and the whole energy of the body are apt to be devoted to
a preparation for a blissful or at all events an untroubled
eternity, and life becomes, in the language of Plato, a meditation
or practising of death. This excessive preoccupation
with a problematic future has been a fruitful source of the
most fatal aberrations both for nations and individuals. In
pursuit of these visionary aims the few short years of life
have been frittered away: wealth has been squandered:
blood has been poured out in torrents: the natural affections
have been stifled; and the cheerful serenity of reason
has been exchanged for the melancholy gloom of madness.</p>

<div class="poem">  <div class="stanza">
<p>"Oh threats of Hell and Hopes of Paradise!</p>
<p>One thing at least is certain&mdash;<i>This</i> Life flies;</p>
<p class="i2">One thing is certain and the rest is Lies;</p>
<p>The Flower that once has blown for ever dies."</p>
  </div>  </div>

<p class="side">The belief in immortality general among mankind.</p>

<p>The question whether our conscious personality survives
after death has been answered by almost all races of men in
the affirmative. On this point sceptical or agnostic peoples
are nearly, if not wholly, unknown. Accordingly if abstract
truth could be determined, like the gravest issues of national
policy, by a show of hands or a counting of heads, the
doctrine of human immortality, or at least of a life after
death, would deserve to rank among the most firmly
established of truths; for were the question put to the vote
of the whole of mankind, there can be no doubt that
the ayes would have it by an overwhelming majority.
The few dissenters would be overborne; their voices would
be drowned in the general roar. For dissenters there have
been even among savages.  The Tongans, for example,
thought that only the souls of noblemen are saved, the rest
perish with their bodies.<a id="footnotetag6" name="footnotetag6"></a><a href="#footnote6"><sup>6</sup></a> However, this aristocratic view
has never been popular, and is not likely to find favour in
our democratic age.</p>

<p class="side">Belief of many savages that they would never die if their
lives were not cut short by sorcery. Belief of the Abipones.</p>

<p>But many savage races not only believe in a life after
death; they are even of opinion that they would never
die at all if it were not for the maleficent arts of sorcerers
who cut the vital thread prematurely short.  In other
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page34" id="page34"></a>[pg 34]</span>
words, they disbelieve in what we call a natural death; they
think that all men are naturally immortal in this life, and
that every death which takes place is in fact a violent
death inflicted by the hand of a human enemy, though in
many cases the foe is invisible and works his fell purpose not
by a sword or a spear but by magic. Thus the Abipones,
a now extinct tribe of horse Indians in Paraguay, used
to allege that they would be immortal and that none
of them would ever die if only the Spaniards and the
sorcerers could be banished from America; for they were
in the habit of attributing every death, whatever its
cause, either to the baleful arts of sorcerers or to the
firearms of the Spaniards. Even if a man died riddled
with wounds, with his bones smashed, or through the
exhaustion of old age, these Indians would all deny that
the wounds or old age was the cause of his death; they
firmly believed that the death was brought about by magic,
and they would make careful enquiries to discover the sorcerer
who had cast the fatal spell on their comrade. The relations
of the deceased would move every stone to detect and punish
the culprit; and they imagined that they could do this by
cutting out the heart and tongue of the dead man and
throwing them to a dog to be devoured. They thought that
this in some way killed the wicked magician who had killed
their friend. For example, it happened that in a squabble
between two men about a horse a third man who tried to
make peace between the disputants was mortally wounded
by their spears and died in a few days. To us it might
seem obvious that the peacemaker was killed by the spear-wounds
which he had received, but none of the Abipones
would admit such a thing for a moment. They stoutly
affirmed that their comrade had been done to death by the
magical arts of some person unknown, and their suspicions
fell on a certain old woman, known to be a witch, to whom
the deceased had lately refused to give a water-melon, and
who out of spite had killed him by her spells, though he appeared
to the European eye to have died of a spear-wound.<a id="footnotetag7" name="footnotetag7"></a><a href="#footnote7"><sup>7</sup></a></p>

<span class="pagenum"><a name="page35" id="page35"></a>[pg 35]</span>

<p class="side">Belief of the Araucanians.</p>

<p>Similarly the warlike Araucanians of Chili are said to
disbelieve in natural death. Even if a man dies peaceably
at the age of a hundred, they still think that he has been
bewitched by an enemy. A diviner or medicine-man is
consulted in order to discover the culprit. Some of these
wizards enjoy a great reputation and the Indians will send
a hundred miles or more to get the opinion of an eminent
member of the profession. In such cases they submit to him
some of the remains of the dead man, for example, his eyebrows,
his nails, his tongue, or the soles of his feet, and from
an examination of these relics the man of skill pronounces
on the author of the death. The person whom he accuses
is hunted down and killed, sometimes by fire, amid the yells
of an enraged crowd.<a id="footnotetag8" name="footnotetag8"></a><a href="#footnote8"><sup>8</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Belief of the Baka&iuml;ri.</p>

<p>When the eminent German anthropologist was questioning
a Baka&iuml;ri Indian of Brazil as to the language of his
tribe, he gave the sentence, "Every man must die" to be
translated into the Baka&iuml;ri language. To his astonishment,
the Indian remained long silent. The same long pause
always occurred when an abstract proposition, with which
he was unfamiliar, was put before the Indian for translation
into his native tongue. On the present occasion the
enquirer learned that the Indian has no idea of necessity in
the abstract, and in particular he has no conception at all
of the necessity of death. The cause of death, in his opinion,
is invariably an ill turn done by somebody to the deceased.
If there were only good men in the world, he thinks that
there would be neither sickness nor death. He knows
nothing about a natural end of the vital process; he believes
that all sickness and disease are the effects of witchcraft.<a id="footnotetag9" name="footnotetag9"></a><a href="#footnote9"><sup>9</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Belief of the Indians of Guiana in sorcery as the cause of
sickness and death.</p>

<p>Speaking of the Indians of Guiana, an English missionary,
who knew them well, says that the worst
feature in their character is their proneness to blood
revenge, "by which a succession of retaliatory murders may
be kept up for a long time. It is closely connected with
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page36" id="page36"></a>[pg 36]</span>
their system of sorcery, which we shall presently consider.
A person dies,&mdash;and it is supposed that an enemy has
secured the agency of an evil spirit to compass his death.
Some sorcerer, employed by the friends of the deceased for
that purpose, pretends by his incantations to discover the
guilty individual or family, or at any rate to indicate the
quarter where they dwell. A near relative of the deceased
is then charged with the work of vengeance. He becomes
a <i>kanaima</i>, or is supposed to be possessed by the destroying
spirit so called, and has to live apart, according to strict
rule, and submit to many privations, until the deed of blood
be accomplished. If the supposed offender cannot be slain,
some innocent member of his family&mdash;man, woman, or little
child&mdash;must suffer instead."<a id="footnotetag10" name="footnotetag10"></a><a href="#footnote10"><sup>10</sup></a> The same writer tells us
that these Indians of Guiana attribute sickness and death
directly to the agency of certain evil spirits called <i>yauhahu</i>,
who delight in inflicting miseries upon mankind. Pain, in
the language of the Arawaks (one of the best-known tribes
of Guiana), is called <i>yauhahu simaira</i> or "the evil spirit's
arrow."<a id="footnotetag11" name="footnotetag11"></a><a href="#footnote11"><sup>11</sup></a> It is these evil spirits whom wicked sorcerers
employ to accomplish their fell purpose. Thus while the
demon is the direct cause of sickness and death, the sorcerer
who uses him as his tool is the indirect cause. The demon
is thought to do his work by inserting some alien substance
into the body of the sufferer, and a medicine-man is
employed to extract it by chanting an invocation to the
maleficent spirit, shaking his rattle, and sucking the part of
the patient's frame in which the cause of the malady is
imagined to reside. "After many ceremonies he will produce
from his mouth some strange substance, such as a
thorn or gravel-stone, a fish-bone or bird's claw, a snake's
tooth, or a piece of wire, which some malicious <i>yauhahu</i> is
supposed to have inserted in the affected part. As soon as
the patient fancies himself rid of this cause of his illness his
recovery is generally rapid, and the fame of the sorcerer
greatly increased. Should death, however, ensue, the blame
is laid upon the evil spirit whose power and malignity have
prevailed over the counteracting charms. Some rival sorcerer
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page37" id="page37"></a>[pg 37]</span>
will at times come in for a share of the blame, whom the
sufferer has unhappily made his enemy, and who is supposed
to have employed the <i>yauhahu</i> in destroying him. The
sorcerers being supposed to have the power of causing, as
well as of curing diseases, are much dreaded by the common
people, who never wilfully offend them. So deeply rooted
in the Indian's bosom is this belief concerning the origin of
diseases, that they have little idea of sickness arising from
other causes. Death may arise from a wound or a contusion,
or be brought on by want of food, but in other cases it
is the work of the <i>yauhahu</i>"<a id="footnotetag12" name="footnotetag12"></a><a href="#footnote12"><sup>12</sup></a> or evil spirit.</p>

<p class="side">Some deaths attributed to sorcery and others to evil spirits:
practical consequence of this distinction.</p>

<p>In this account it is to be observed that while all
natural deaths from sickness and disease are attributed to
the direct action of evil spirits, only some of them are
attributed to the indirect action of sorcerers. The practical
consequences of this theoretical distinction are very important.
For whereas death by sorcery must, in the
opinion of savages, be avenged by killing the supposed
sorcerer, death by the action of a demon cannot be
so avenged; for how are you to get at the demon?
Hence, while every death by sorcery involves, theoretically
at least, another death by violence, death by a
demon involves no such practical consequence. So far,
therefore, the faith in sorcery is far more murderous than
the faith in demons. This practical distinction is clearly
recognised by these Indians of Guiana; for another writer,
who laboured among them as a missionary, tells us
that when a person dies a natural death, the medicine-man
is called upon to decide whether he perished through
the agency of a demon or the agency of a sorcerer. If he
decides that the deceased died through the malice of an evil
spirit, the body is quietly buried, and no more is thought
of the matter. But if the wizard declares that the cause of
death was sorcery, the corpse is closely inspected, and if a
blue mark is discovered, it is pointed out as the spot where
the invisible poisoned arrow, discharged by the sorcerer,
entered the man. The next thing is to detect the culprit.
For this purpose a pot containing a decoction of leaves
is set to boil on a fire. When it begins to boil over, the
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page38" id="page38"></a>[pg 38]</span>
side on which the scum first falls is the quarter in which
the supposed murderer is to be sought. A consultation
is then held: the guilt is laid on some individual, and
one of the nearest relations of the deceased is charged with
the duty of finding and killing him. If the imaginary
culprit cannot be found, any other member of his family
may be slain in his stead. "It is not difficult to conceive,"
adds the writer, "how, under such circumstances, no man's
life is secure; whilst these by no means unfrequent murders
must greatly tend to diminish the number of the natives."<a id="footnotetag13" name="footnotetag13"></a><a href="#footnote13"><sup>13</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Among the Indians of Guiana death is oftener attributed to
sorcery than to demons.</p>

<p>However, it would seem that among the Indians of
Guiana sickness and death are oftener ascribed to the agency
of sorcerers than to the agency of demons acting alone. For
another high authority on these Indians, Sir Everard F. im
Thurn, tells us that "every death, every illness, is regarded
not as the result of natural law, but as the work of a <i>kenaima</i>"
or sorcerer. "Often indeed," he adds, "the survivors or the
relatives of the invalid do not know to whom to attribute
the deed, which therefore perforce remains unpunished; but
often, again, there is real or fancied reason to fix on some
one as the <i>kenaima</i>, and then the nearest relative of the
injured individual devotes himself to retaliate. Strange
ceremonies are sometimes observed in order to discover the
secret <i>kenaima</i>. Richard Schomburgk describes a striking
instance of this. A Macusi boy had died a natural death,
and his relatives endeavoured to discover the quarter to
which the <i>kenaima</i> who was supposed to have slain him
belonged. Raising a terrible and monotonous dirge, they
carried the body to an open piece of ground, and there
formed a circle round it, while the father, cutting from the
corpse both the thumbs and little fingers, both the great and
the little toes, and a piece of each heel, threw these pieces into
a new pot, which had been filled with water. A fire was
kindled, and on this the pot was placed. When the water
began to boil, according to the side on which one of the
pieces was first thrown out from the pot by the bubbling of
the water, in that direction would the <i>kenaima</i> be. In thus
looking round to see who did the deed, the Indian thinks it
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page39" id="page39"></a>[pg 39]</span>
by no means necessary to fix on anyone who has been with
or near the injured man. The <i>kenaima</i> is supposed to have
done the deed, not necessarily in person, but probably in
spirit."<a id="footnotetag14" name="footnotetag14"></a><a href="#footnote14"><sup>14</sup></a> For these Indians believe that each individual man
has a body and a spirit within it, and that sorcerers can
despatch their spirits out of their bodies to harm people at a
distance. It is not always in an invisible form that these spirits
of sorcerers are supposed to roam on their errands of mischief.
The wizard can put his spirit into the shape of an animal,
such as a jaguar, a serpent, a sting-ray, a bird, an insect,
or anything else he pleases. Hence when an Indian is
attacked by a wild beast, he thinks that his real foe is not
the animal, but the sorcerer who has transformed himself
into it. Curiously enough they look upon some small harmless
birds in the same light. One little bird, in particular,
which flits across the savannahs with a peculiar shrill whistle
at morning and evening, is regarded by the Indians with
especial fear as a transformed sorcerer. They think that
for every one of these birds that they shoot they have an
enemy the less, and they burn its little body, taking great
care that not even a single feather escapes to be blown about
by the wind. On a windy day a dozen men and women have
been seen chasing the floating feathers of these birds about
the savannah in order utterly to extinguish the imaginary
wizard. Even the foreign substance, the stick, bone, or
whatever it is, which the good medicine-man pretends to
suck from the body of the sufferer "is often, if not always,
regarded not simply as a natural body, but as the materialised
form of a hostile spirit."<a id="footnotetag15" name="footnotetag15"></a><a href="#footnote15"><sup>15</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Belief of the Tinneh Indians in sorcery as the cause of
death.</p>

<p>Beliefs and practices of the same general character are
reported to have formerly prevailed among the Tinneh or
D&eacute;n&eacute; Indians of North-west America. When any beloved
or influential person died, nobody, we are told, would think
of attributing the death to natural causes; it was assumed
that the demise was an effect of sorcery, and the only difficulty
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page40" id="page40"></a>[pg 40]</span>
was to ascertain the culprit. For that purpose the services
of a shaman were employed. Rigged out in all his finery
he would dance and sing, then suddenly fall down and feign
death or sleep. On awaking from the apparent trance he
would denounce the sorcerer who had killed the deceased by
his magic art, and the denunciation generally proved the
death-warrant of the accused.<a id="footnotetag16" name="footnotetag16"></a><a href="#footnote16"><sup>16</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Belief of the Australian aborigines in sorcery as the cause
of death.</p>

<p>Again, similar beliefs and customs in regard to what we
should call natural death appear to have prevailed universally
amongst the aborigines of Australia, and to have contributed
very materially to thin the population. On this subject I
will quote the words of an observer. His remarks apply to
the Australian aborigines in general but to the tribes of
Victoria in particular. He says: "The natives are much
more numerous in some parts of Australia than they are in
others, but nowhere is the country thickly peopled; some
dire disease occasionally breaks out among the natives, and
carries off large numbers.... But there are two other
causes which, in my opinion, principally account for their
paucity of numbers. The first is that infanticide is universally
practised; the second, that a belief exists that no
one can die a natural death. Thus, if an individual of a
certain tribe dies, his relatives consider that his death has
been caused by sorcery on the part of another tribe. The
deceased's sons, or nearest relatives, therefore start off on a
<i>bucceening</i> or murdering expedition. If the deceased is
buried, a fly or a beetle is put into the grave, and the
direction in which the insect wings its way when released is
the one the avengers take. If the body is burnt, the whereabouts
of the offending parties is indicated by the direction
of the smoke. The first unfortunates fallen in with are
generally watched until they encamp for the night; when
they are buried in sleep, the murderers steal quietly up until
they are within a yard or two of their victims, rush suddenly
upon and butcher them. On these occasions they always
abstract the kidney-fat, and also take off a piece of the skin
of the thigh. These are carried home as trophies, as the
American Indians take the scalp. The murderers anoint
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page41" id="page41"></a>[pg 41]</span>
their bodies with the fat of their victims, thinking that by
that process the strength of the deceased enters into them.
Sometimes it happens that the <i>bucceening</i> party come suddenly
upon a man of a strange tribe in a tree hunting opossums;
he is immediately speared, and left weltering in his blood at
the foot of the tree. The relatives of the murdered man at
once proceed to retaliate; and thus a constant and never-ending
series of murders is always going on.... I do not
mean to assert that for every man that dies or is killed
another is murdered; for it often happens that the deceased
has no sons or relatives who care about avenging his death.
At other times a <i>bucceening</i> party will return without having
met with any one; then, again, they are sometimes repelled
by those they attack."<a id="footnotetag17" name="footnotetag17"></a><a href="#footnote17"><sup>17</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Belief of the natives of Western Australia in sorcery as a
cause of death. Beliefs of the tribes of Victoria and South Australia.</p>

<p>Again, speaking of the tribes of Western Australia,
Sir George Grey tells us that "the natives do not
allow that there is such a thing as a death from natural
causes; they believe, that were it not for murderers or
the malignity of sorcerers, they might live for ever; hence,
when a native dies from the effect of an accident, or
from some natural cause, they use a variety of superstitious
ceremonies, to ascertain in what direction the sorcerer
lives, whose evil practices have brought about the death
of their relative; this point being satisfactorily settled
by friendly sorcerers, they then attach the crime to some
individual, and the funeral obsequies are scarcely concluded,
ere they start to revenge their supposed wrongs."<a id="footnotetag18" name="footnotetag18"></a><a href="#footnote18"><sup>18</sup></a>
Again, speaking of the Watch-an-die tribe of Western
Australia, another writer tells us that they "possess the
comfortable assurance that nearly all diseases, and consequently
deaths, are caused by the enchantments of hostile
tribes, and that were it not for the malevolence of their
enemies they would (with a few exceptions) live for ever.
Consequently, on the first approach of sickness their first
endeavour is to ascertain whether the <i>boollia</i> [magic] of their
own tribe is not sufficiently potent to counteract that of
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page42" id="page42"></a>[pg 42]</span>
their foes. Should the patient recover, they are, of course,
proud of the superiority of their enchantment over that of
their enemies: but should the <i>boollia</i> [magical influence]
within the sick man prove stronger than their own, as there
is no help for it, he must die, the utmost they can do in
this case is to revenge his death."<a id="footnotetag19" name="footnotetag19"></a><a href="#footnote19"><sup>19</sup></a> But the same writer
qualifies this general statement as follows: "It is not
true," he says, "that the New Hollanders impute <i>all</i>
natural deaths to the <i>boollia</i> [magic] of inimical tribes,
for in most cases of persons wasting visibly away before
death, they do not entertain the notion. It is chiefly in
cases of sudden death, or when the body of the deceased
is fat and in good condition, that this belief prevails, and it
is only in such contingencies that it becomes an imperative
duty to have revenge."<a id="footnotetag20" name="footnotetag20"></a><a href="#footnote20"><sup>20</sup></a> Similarly, speaking of the tribes
of Victoria in the early days of European settlement among
them, the experienced observer Mr. James Dawson says that
"natural deaths are generally&mdash;but not always&mdash;attributed
to the malevolence and the spells of an enemy belonging to
another tribe."<a id="footnotetag21" name="footnotetag21"></a><a href="#footnote21"><sup>21</sup></a> Again, with regard to the Encounter Bay
tribe of South Australia we read that "there are but few
diseases which they regard as the consequences of natural
causes; in general they consider them the effects of enchantment,
and produced by sorcerers."<a id="footnotetag22" name="footnotetag22"></a><a href="#footnote22"><sup>22</sup></a> Similarly of the Port
Lincoln tribes in South Australia it is recorded that "in all
cases of death that do not arise from old age, wounds, or
other equally palpable causes, the natives suspect that unfair
means have been practised; and even where the cause
of death is sufficiently plain, they sometimes will not content
themselves with it, but have recourse to an imaginary
one, as the following case will prove:&mdash;A woman had
been bitten by a black snake, across the thumb, in clearing
out a well; she began to swell directly, and was a corpse
in twenty-four hours; yet, another woman who had been
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page43" id="page43"></a>[pg 43]</span>
present when the accident occurred, stated that the deceased
had named a certain native as having caused her death.
Upon this statement, which was in their opinion corroborated
by the circumstance that the snake had drawn no blood
from the deceased, her husband and other friends had a fight
with the accused party and his friends; a reconciliation,
however, took place afterwards, and it was admitted on the
part of the aggressors that they had been in error with
regard to the guilty individual; but nowise more satisfied
as to the bite of the snake being the true cause of the
woman's death, another party was now suddenly discovered
to be the real offender, and accordingly war was made upon
him and his partisans, till at last the matter was dropped
and forgotten. From this case, as well as from frequent
occurrences of a similar nature, it appears evident that thirst
for revenge has quite as great a share in these foul accusations
as superstition."<a id="footnotetag23" name="footnotetag23"></a><a href="#footnote23"><sup>23</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Other testimonies as to the belief of the natives of South
Australia and Victoria.</p>

<p>However, other experienced observers of the Australian
aborigines admit no such limitations and exceptions
to the native theory that death is an effect of sorcery.
Thus in regard to the Narrinyeri tribe of South Australia
the Rev. George Taplin, who knew them intimately for
years, says that "no native regards death as natural, but
always as the result of sorcery."<a id="footnotetag24" name="footnotetag24"></a><a href="#footnote24"><sup>24</sup></a> Again, to quote Mr. R.
Brough Smyth, who has collected much information on the
tribes of Victoria: "Mr. Daniel Bunce, an intelligent observer,
and a gentleman well acquainted with the habits of
the blacks, says that no tribe that he has ever met with
believes in the possibility of a man dying a natural death.
If a man is taken ill, it is at once assumed that some
member of a hostile tribe has stolen some of his hair. This
is quite enough to cause serious illness. If the man continues
sick and gets worse, it is assumed that the hair has been
burnt by his enemy. Such an act, they say, is sufficient to
imperil his life. If the man dies, it is assumed that the
thief has choked his victim and taken away his kidney-fat.
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page44" id="page44"></a>[pg 44]</span>
When the grave is being dug, one or more of the older men&mdash;generally
doctors or conjurors (<i>Buk-na-look</i>)&mdash;stand by
and attentively watch the laborers; and if an insect is
thrown out of the ground, these old men observe the
direction which it takes, and having determined the line,
two of the young men, relations of the deceased, are despatched
in the path indicated, with instructions to kill the
first native they meet, who they are assured and believe is
the person directly chargeable with the crime of causing the
death of their relative. Mr. John Green says that the men
of the Yarra tribe firmly believe that no one ever dies a
natural death. A man or a woman dies because of the
wicked arts practised by some member of a hostile tribe;
and they discover the direction in which to search for the
slayer by the movements of a lizard which is seen immediately
after the corpse is interred."<a id="footnotetag25" name="footnotetag25"></a><a href="#footnote25"><sup>25</sup></a> Again, speaking of the
aborigines of Victoria, another writer observes: "All deaths
from natural causes are attributed to the machinations of
enemies, who are supposed to have sought for and burned
the excrement of the intended victim, which, according to
the general belief, causes a gradual wasting away. The
relatives, therefore, watch the struggling feet of the dying
person, as they point in the direction whence the injury is
thought to come, and serve as a guide to the spot where it
should be avenged. This is the duty of the nearest male
relative; should he fail in its execution, it will ever be to
him a reproach, although other relatives may have avenged
the death. If the deceased were a chief, then the duty
devolves upon the tribe. Chosen men are sent in the
direction indicated, who kill the first persons they meet,
whether men, women, or children; and the more lives that
are sacrificed, the greater is the honour to the dead."<a id="footnotetag26" name="footnotetag26"></a><a href="#footnote26"><sup>26</sup></a>
Again, in his account of the Kurnai tribe of Victoria the
late Dr. A. W. Howitt remarks: "It is not difficult to see
how, among savages, who have no knowledge of the real
causes of diseases which are the common lot of humanity,
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page45" id="page45"></a>[pg 45]</span>
the very suspicion even of such a thing as death from
disease should be unknown. Death by accident they can
imagine; death by violence they can imagine; but I
question if they can, in their savage condition, imagine
death by mere disease. Rheumatism is believed to be
produced by the machinations of some enemy. Seeing a
Tatungolung very lame, I asked him what was the matter?
He said, 'Some fellow has put <i>bottle</i> in my foot.' I asked
him to let me see it. I found he was probably suffering
from acute rheumatism. He explained that some enemy
must have found his foot track, and have buried in it a
piece of broken bottle. The magic influence, he believed,
caused it to enter his foot.... Phthisis, pneumonia, bowel
complaints, and insanity are supposed to be produced by an
evil spirit&mdash;Brewin&mdash;'who is like the wind,' and who, entering
his victims, can only be expelled by suitable incantations.... Thus
the belief arises that death occurs only from
accident, open violence, or secret magic; and, naturally, that
the latter can only be met by counter-charms."<a id="footnotetag27" name="footnotetag27"></a><a href="#footnote27"><sup>27</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Belief of the aborigines of New South Wales in sorcery as the
cause of sickness and death.</p>

<p>The beliefs and practices of the aborigines of New
South Wales in respect of death were similar. Thus we
are told by a well-informed writer that "the natives do not
believe in death from natural causes; therefore all sickness
is attributed to the agency of sorcery, and counter charms
are used to destroy its effect.... As a man's death is
never supposed to have occurred naturally, except as the
result of accident, or from a wound in battle, the first thing
to be done when a death occurs is to endeavour to find out
the person whose spells have brought about the calamity.
In the Wathi-Wathi tribe the corpse is asked by each
relative in succession to signify by some sign the person
who has caused his death. Not receiving an answer, they
watch in which direction a bird flies, after having passed
over the deceased. This is considered an indication that
the sorcerer is to be found in that direction. Sometimes
the nearest relative sleeps with his head on the corpse, which
causes him, they think, to dream of the murderer. There is,
however, a good deal of uncertainty about the proceedings,
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page46" id="page46"></a>[pg 46]</span>
which seldom result in more than a great display of wrath,
and of vowing of vengeance against some member of a
neighbouring tribe. Unfortunately this is not always the
case, the man who is supposed to have exercised the death-spell
being sometimes waylaid and murdered in a most cruel
manner."<a id="footnotetag28" name="footnotetag28"></a><a href="#footnote28"><sup>28</sup></a> With regard to the great Kamilaroi tribe of
New South Wales we read that "in some parts of the
country a belief prevails that death, through disease, is, in
many, if not in all cases, the result of an enemy's malice.
It is a common saying, when illness or death comes, that
some one has thrown his belt (<i>boor</i>) at the victim. There
are various modes of fixing upon the murderer. One is to
let an insect fly from the body of the deceased and see
towards whom it goes. The person thus singled out is
doomed."<a id="footnotetag29" name="footnotetag29"></a><a href="#footnote29"><sup>29</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Belief of the aborigines of Central Australia in sorcery as
the cause of death.</p>

<p>Speaking of the tribes of Central Australia, Messrs.
Spencer and Gillen observe that "in the matter of morality
their code differs radically from ours, but it cannot be denied
that their conduct is governed by it, and that any known
breaches are dealt with both surely and severely.  In very
many cases there takes place what the white man, not
seeing beneath the surface, not unnaturally describes as
secret murder, but, in reality, revolting though such slaughter
may be to our minds at the present day, it is simply exactly
on a par with the treatment accorded to witches not so very
long ago in European countries. Every case of such secret
murder, when one or more men stealthily stalk their prey
with the object of killing him, is in reality the exacting of
a life for a life, the accused person being indicated by the
so-called medicine-man as one who has brought about the
death of another man by magic, and whose life must therefore
be forfeited. It need hardly be pointed out what a
potent element this custom has been in keeping down the
numbers of the tribe; no such thing as natural death is
realised by the native; a man who dies has of necessity
been killed by some other man, or perhaps even by a
woman, and sooner or later that man or woman will be
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page47" id="page47"></a>[pg 47]</span>
attacked.  In the normal condition of the tribe every death
meant the killing of another individual."<a id="footnotetag30" name="footnotetag30"></a><a href="#footnote30"><sup>30</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Belief of the natives of the Torres Straits Islands and New
Guinea in sorcery as the cause of death.</p>

<p>Passing from Australia to other savage lands we learn
that according to the belief of the Torres Straits Islanders
all sickness and death were due to sorcery.<a id="footnotetag31" name="footnotetag31"></a><a href="#footnote31"><sup>31</sup></a> The natives of
Mowat or Mawatta in British New Guinea "do not believe
in a natural death, but attribute even the decease of an old
man to the agency of some enemy known or unknown."<a id="footnotetag32" name="footnotetag32"></a><a href="#footnote32"><sup>32</sup></a>
In the opinion of the tribes about Hood Peninsula in British
New Guinea no one dies a natural death. Every such death
is caused by the evil magic either of a living sorcerer or of a
dead relation.<a id="footnotetag33" name="footnotetag33"></a><a href="#footnote33"><sup>33</sup></a> Of the Roro-speaking tribes of British New
Guinea Dr. Seligmann writes that "except in the case of old
folk, death is not admitted to occur without some obvious
cause such as a spear-thrust. Therefore when vigorous and
active members of the community die, it becomes necessary
to explain their fate, and such deaths are firmly believed to
be produced by sorcery. Indeed, as far as I have been able to
ascertain, the Papuasian of this district regards the existence
of sorcery, not, as has been alleged, as a particularly terrifying
and horrible affair, but as a necessary and inevitable
condition of existence in the world as he knows it."<a id="footnotetag34" name="footnotetag34"></a><a href="#footnote34"><sup>34</sup></a>
Amongst the Yabim of German New Guinea "every case
of death, even though it should happen accidentally, as by
the fall of a tree or the bite of a shark, is laid at the door of
the sorcerers. They are blamed even for the death of a child.
If it is said that a little child never hurt anybody and therefore
cannot have an enemy, the reply is that the intention
was to injure the mother, and that the malady had been
transferred to the infant through its mother's milk."<a id="footnotetag35" name="footnotetag35"></a><a href="#footnote35"><sup>35</sup></a></p>

<span class="pagenum"><a name="page48" id="page48"></a>[pg 48]</span>

<p class="side">Belief of the Melanesians in sorcery as the cause of sickness
and death.</p>

<p>Again, in the island of Malo, one of the New Hebrides,
a Catholic missionary reports that according to a belief
deeply implanted in the native mind every disease is the
effect of witchcraft, and that nobody dies a natural death
but only as a consequence of violence, poison, or sorcery.<a id="footnotetag36" name="footnotetag36"></a><a href="#footnote36"><sup>36</sup></a>
Similarly in New Georgia, one of the Solomon Islands, when a
person is sick, the natives think that he must be bewitched by
a man or woman, for in their opinion nobody can be sick or
die unless he is bewitched; what we call natural sickness
and death are impossible. In case of illness suspicion falls
on some one who is supposed to have buried a charmed
object with intent to injure the sufferer.<a id="footnotetag37" name="footnotetag37"></a><a href="#footnote37"><sup>37</sup></a> Of the Melanesians
who inhabit the coast of the Gazelle Peninsula in New
Britain it is said that all deaths by sickness or disease are
attributed by them to the witchcraft of a sorcerer, and a
diviner is called in to ascertain the culprit who by his evil
magic has destroyed their friends.<a id="footnotetag38" name="footnotetag38"></a><a href="#footnote38"><sup>38</sup></a> "Amongst the Melanesians
few, if any, are believed to die from natural causes
only; if they are not killed in war, they are supposed to
die from the effects of witchcraft or magic. Whenever any
one was sick, his friends made anxious inquiries as to the
person who had bewitched (<i>agara'd</i>) him. Some one would
generally be found to admit that he had buried some portion
of food or something belonging to the sick man, which had
caused his illness. The friends would pay him to dig it up,
and after that the patient would generally get well. If,
however, he did not recover, it was assumed that some other
person had also <i>agara'd</i> him."<a id="footnotetag39" name="footnotetag39"></a><a href="#footnote39"><sup>39</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">The belief of the Malagasy in sorcery as a cause of death.</p>

<p>Speaking of the Malagasy a Catholic missionary tells us
that in Madagascar nobody dies a natural death. With the
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page49" id="page49"></a>[pg 49]</span>
possible exception of centenarians everybody is supposed to
die the victim of the sorcerer's diabolic art. If a relation of
yours dies, the people comfort you by saying, "Cursed be
the sorcerer who caused his death!" If your horse falls
down a precipice and breaks its back, the accident has
been caused by the malicious look of a sorcerer. If your
dog dies of hydrophobia or your horse of a carbuncle, the
cause is still the same. If you catch a fever in a district
where malaria abounds, the malady is still ascribed to the
art of the sorcerer, who has insinuated some deadly substances
into your body.<a id="footnotetag40" name="footnotetag40"></a><a href="#footnote40"><sup>40</sup></a> Again, speaking of the Sakalava,
a tribe in Madagascar, an eminent French authority on the
island observes: "They have such a faith in the power of
talismans that they even ascribe to them the power of killing
their enemies. When they speak of poisoning, they do not
allude, as many Europeans wrongly suppose, to death by
vegetable or mineral poisons; the reference is to charms or
spells. They often throw under the bed of an enemy an
<i>ahouli</i> [talisman], praying it to kill him, and they are persuaded
that sooner or later their wish will be accomplished.
I have often been present at bloody vendettas which had no
other origin but this. The Sakalava think that a great part
of the population dies of poison in this way. In their
opinion, only old people who have attained the extreme
limits of human longevity die a natural death."<a id="footnotetag41" name="footnotetag41"></a><a href="#footnote41"><sup>41</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Belief of African tribes in sorcery as the cause of sickness
and death.</p>

<p>In Africa similar beliefs are widely spread and lead,
as elsewhere, to fatal consequences.  Thus the Kagoro
of Northern Nigeria refuse to believe in death from
natural causes; all illnesses and deaths, in their opinion,
are brought about by black magic, however old and
decrepit the deceased may have been. They explain sickness
by saying that a man's soul wanders from his body
in sleep and may then be caught, detained, and even beaten
with a stick by some evil-wisher; whenever that happens,
the man naturally falls ill. Sometimes an enemy will
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page50" id="page50"></a>[pg 50]</span>
abstract the patient's liver by magic and carry it away to a
cave in a sacred grove, where he will devour it in company
with other wicked sorcerers. A witch-doctor is called in to
detect the culprit, and whomever he denounces is shut up in
a room, where a fire is kindled and pepper thrown into it;
and there he is kept in the fumes of the burning pepper till
he confesses his guilt and returns the stolen liver, upon
which of course the sick man recovers. But should the
patient die, the miscreant who did him to death by kidnapping
his soul or his liver will be sold as a slave or
choked.<a id="footnotetag42" name="footnotetag42"></a><a href="#footnote42"><sup>42</sup></a> In like manner the Bakerewe, who inhabit the
largest island in the Victoria Nyanza lake, believe that all
deaths and all ailments, however trivial, are the effect of
witchcraft; and the person, generally an old woman, whom
the witch-doctor accuses of having cast the spell on the
patient is tied up, severely beaten, or stabbed to death
on the spot.<a id="footnotetag43" name="footnotetag43"></a><a href="#footnote43"><sup>43</sup></a> Again, we are told that "the peoples
of the Congo do not believe in a natural death, not
even when it happens through drowning or any other
accident. Whoever dies is the victim of witchcraft or of a
spell. His soul has been eaten. He must be avenged by
the punishment of the person who has committed the crime."
Accordingly when a death has taken place, the medicine-man
is sent for to discover the criminal. He pretends to be
possessed by a spirit and in this state he names the wretch
who has caused the death by sorcery. The accused has to
submit to the poison ordeal by drinking a decoction of the
red bark of the <i>Erythrophloeum guiniense</i>. If he vomits up
the poison, he is innocent; but if he fails to do so, the
infuriated crowd rushes on him and despatches him with
knives and clubs. The family of the supposed culprit has
moreover to pay an indemnity to the family of the supposed
victim.<a id="footnotetag44" name="footnotetag44"></a><a href="#footnote44"><sup>44</sup></a> "Death, in the opinion of the natives, is never due
to a natural cause. It is always the result either of a crime
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page51" id="page51"></a>[pg 51]</span>
or of sorcery, and is followed by the poison ordeal, which has
to be undergone by an innocent person whom the fetish-man
accuses from selfish motives."<a id="footnotetag45" name="footnotetag45"></a><a href="#footnote45"><sup>45</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Effect of such beliefs in thinning the population by causing
multitudes to die for the imaginary crime of sorcery.</p>

<p>Evidence of the same sort could be multiplied for West
Africa, where the fear of sorcery is rampant.<a id="footnotetag46" name="footnotetag46"></a><a href="#footnote46"><sup>46</sup></a> But without
going into further details, I wish to point out the disastrous
effects which here, as elsewhere, this theory of death has
produced upon the population. For when a death from
natural causes takes place, the author of the death being
of course unknown, suspicion often falls on a number of
people, all of whom are obliged to submit to the poison
ordeal in order to prove their innocence, with the result
that some or possibly all of them perish. A very experienced
American missionary in West Africa, the Rev.
R. H. Nassau, the friend of the late Miss Mary H. Kingsley,
tells us that for every person who dies a natural death at
least one, and often ten or more have been executed on an
accusation of witchcraft.<a id="footnotetag47" name="footnotetag47"></a><a href="#footnote47"><sup>47</sup></a> Andrew Battel, a native of Essex,
who lived in Angola for many years at the end of the
sixteenth and beginning of the seventeenth century, informs
us that "in this country none on any account dieth, but they
kill another for him: for they believe they die not their own
natural death, but that some other has bewitched them to
death. And all those are brought in by the friends of the
dead whom they suspect; so that there many times come
five hundred men and women to take the drink, made of the
foresaid root <i>imbando</i>. They are brought all to the high-street
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page52" id="page52"></a>[pg 52]</span>
or market-place, and there the master of the <i>imbando</i>
sits with his water, and gives every one a cup of water by
one measure; and they are commanded to walk in a certain
place till they make water, and then they are free. But he
that cannot urine presently falls down, and all the people,
great and small, fall upon him with their knives, and beat
and cut him into pieces. But I think the witch that gives
the water is partial, and gives to him whose death is desired
the strongest water, but no man of the bye-standers can
perceive it. This is done in the town of Longo, almost every
week throughout the year."<a id="footnotetag48" name="footnotetag48"></a><a href="#footnote48"><sup>48</sup></a> A French official tells us that
among the Neyaux of the Ivory Coast similar beliefs and
practices were visibly depopulating the country, every single
natural death causing the death of four or five persons by
the poison ordeal, which consisted in drinking the decoction
of a red bark called by the natives <i>boduru</i>. At the death of
a chief fifteen men and women perished in this way. The
French Government had great difficulty in suppressing the
ordeal; for the deluded natives firmly believed in the justice
of the test and therefore submitted to it willingly in the
full consciousness of their innocence.<a id="footnotetag49" name="footnotetag49"></a><a href="#footnote49"><sup>49</sup></a> In the neighbourhood
of Calabar the poison ordeal, which here consists
in drinking a decoction of a certain bean, the <i>Physostigma
venenosum</i> of botanists, has had similar disastrous results,
as we learn from the testimony of a missionary, the
Rev. Hugh Goldie. He tells us that the people have
firm faith in the ordeal and therefore not only accept
it readily but appeal to it, convinced that it will demonstrate
their innocence. A small tribe named Uwet in the hill-country
of Calabar almost swept itself off the face of the
earth by its constant use of the ordeal. On one occasion
the whole population drank the poison to prove themselves
pure, as they said; about half perished, "and the remnant,"
says Mr. Goldie, "still continuing their superstitious practice,
must soon become extinct"<a id="footnotetag50" name="footnotetag50"></a><a href="#footnote50"><sup>50</sup></a> These words were
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page53" id="page53"></a>[pg 53]</span>
written a good many years ago, and it is probable that by this
time these poor fanatics have actually succeeded in exterminating
themselves. So fatal may be the practical consequences
of a purely speculative error; for it is to be
remembered that these disasters flow directly from a mistaken
theory of death.</p>

<p class="side">General conclusion as to the belief in sorcery as the great
cause of death.</p>

<p>Much more evidence of the same kind could be adduced,
but without pursuing the theme further I think we may
lay it down as a general rule that at a certain stage
of social and intellectual evolution men have believed
themselves to be naturally immortal in this life and have
regarded death by disease or even by accident or violence
as an unnatural event which has been brought about
by sorcery and which must be avenged by the death of the
sorcerer. If that has been so, we seem bound to conclude
that a belief in magic or sorcery has had a most potent
influence in keeping down the numbers of savage tribes;
since as a rule every natural death has entailed at least one,
often several, sometimes many deaths by violence. This may
help us to understand what an immense power for evil the
world-wide faith in magic or sorcery has been among men.</p>

<p class="side">But some savages have attributed death to other causes than
sorcery.</p>

<p>But even savages come in time to perceive that deaths
are sometimes brought about by other causes than sorcery.
We have seen that some of them admit extreme old age,
accidents, and violence as causes of death which are independent
of sorcery.  The admission of these exceptions
to the general rule certainly marks a stage of intellectual
progress. I will give a few more instances of such admissions
before concluding this part of my subject.</p>

<p class="side">Some savages dissect the corpse to ascertain whether death
was due to natural causes or to sorcery.</p>

<p>In the first place, certain savage tribes are reported to
dissect the bodies of their dead in order to ascertain from
an examination of the corpse whether the deceased died a
natural death or perished by magic. This is reported by Mr.
E. R. Smith concerning the Araucanians of Chili, who according
to other writers, as we saw,<a id="footnotetag51" name="footnotetag51"></a><a href="#footnote51"><sup>51</sup></a> believe all deaths to be due
to sorcery. Mr. Smith tells us that after death the services
of the <i>machi</i> or medicine-man "are again required, especially
if the deceased be a person of distinction.  The body
is dissected and examined.  If the liver be found in a
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page54" id="page54"></a>[pg 54]</span>
healthy state, the death is attributed to natural causes; but
if the liver prove to be inflamed, it is supposed to indicate
the machinations of some evil-intentioned persons, and it
rests with the medicine-man to discover the conspirator.
This is accomplished by much the same means that were
used to find out the nature of the disease. The gall is
extracted, put in the magic drum, and after various incantations
taken out and placed over the fire, in a pot carefully
covered; if, after subjecting the gall to a certain amount of
roasting, a stone is found in the bottom of the pot, it is
declared to be the means by which death was produced.
These stones, as well as the frogs, spiders, arrows, or whatever
else may be extracted from the sick man, are called
<i>Huecuvu</i>&mdash;the 'Evil One.' By aid of the <i>Huecuvu</i> the
<i>machi</i> [medicine-man] throws himself into a trance, in which
state he discovers and announces the person guilty of the
death, and describes the manner in which it was produced."<a id="footnotetag52" name="footnotetag52"></a><a href="#footnote52"><sup>52</sup></a></p>

<p>Again, speaking of the Pahouins, a tribe of the Gaboon
region in French Congo, a Catholic missionary writes thus:
"It is so rare among the Pahouins that a death is considered
natural! Scarcely has the deceased given up the
ghost when the sorcerer appears on the scene. With three
cuts of the knife, one transverse and two lateral, he dissects
the breast of the corpse and turns down the skin on the
face. Then he grabbles in the breast, examines the bowels
attentively, marks the last muscular contractions, and thereupon
pronounces whether the death was natural or not." If
he decides that the death was due to sorcery, the suspected
culprit has to submit to the poison ordeal in the usual
manner to determine his guilt or innocence.<a id="footnotetag53" name="footnotetag53"></a><a href="#footnote53"><sup>53</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">The possibility of natural death admitted by the
Melanesians.</p>

<p>Another savage people who have come to admit the
possibility of merely natural death are the Melanesians of
the New Hebrides and other parts of Central Melanesia.
Amongst them "any sickness that is serious is believed to be
brought about by ghosts or spirits; common complaints such
as fever and ague are taken as coming in the course of nature.
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page55" id="page55"></a>[pg 55]</span>
To say that savages are never ill without supposing a supernatural
cause is not true of Melanesians; they make up their
minds as the sickness comes whether it is natural or not, and
the more important the individual who is sick, the more likely
his sickness is to be ascribed to the anger of a ghost whom
he has offended, or to witchcraft. No great man would like
to be told that he was ill by natural weakness or decay. The
sickness is almost always believed to be caused by a ghost,
not by a spirit.... Generally it is to the ghosts of the
dead that sickness is ascribed in the eastern islands as well
as in the western; recourse is had to them for aid in causing
and removing sickness; and ghosts are believed to inflict
sickness not only because some offence, such as a trespass,
has been committed against them, or because one familiar
with them has sought their aid with sacrifice and spells, but
because there is a certain malignity in the feeling of all
ghosts towards the living, who offend them by being alive."<a id="footnotetag54" name="footnotetag54"></a><a href="#footnote54"><sup>54</sup></a>
From this account we learn, first, that the Melanesians admit
some deaths by common diseases, such as fever and ague,
to be natural; and, second, that they recognise ghosts and
spirits as well as sorcerers and witches, among the causes of
death; indeed they hold that ghosts are the commonest of
all causes of sickness and death.</p>

<p class="side">The possibility of natural death admitted by the Caffres of
South Africa.</p>

<p>The same causes of death are recognised also by the
Caffres of South Africa, as we learn from Mr. Dudley Kidd,
who tells us that according to the beliefs of the natives, "to
start with, there is sickness which is supposed to be caused
by the action of ancestral spirits or by fabulous monsters.
Secondly, there is sickness which is caused by the magical
practices of some evil person who is using witchcraft in secret.
Thirdly, there is sickness which comes from neither of these
causes, and remains unexplained.  It is said to be 'only
sickness, and nothing more.' This third form of sickness is,
I think, the commonest. Yet most writers wholly ignore it,
or deny its existence. It may happen that an attack of
indigestion is one day attributed to the action of witch or
wizard; another day the trouble is put down to the account
of ancestral spirits; on a third occasion the people may be
at a loss to account for it, and so may dismiss the problem
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page56" id="page56"></a>[pg 56]</span>
by saying that it is merely sickness. It is quite common
to hear natives say that they are at a loss to account for
some special case of illness. At first they thought it was
caused by an angry ancestral spirit; but a great doctor has
assured them that it is not the result of such a spirit.
They then suppose it to be due to the magical practices of
some enemy; but the doctor negatives that theory. The
people are, therefore, driven to the conclusion that the
trouble has no ascertainable cause. In some cases they do
not even trouble to consult a diviner; they speedily recognise
the sickness as due to natural causes. In such a
case it needs no explanation. If they think that some
friend of theirs knows of a remedy, they will try it on their
own initiative, or may even go off to a white man to ask
for some of his medicine. They would never dream of
doing this if they thought they were being influenced by
magic or by ancestral spirits. The Kafirs quite recognise
that there are types of disease which are inherited, and have
not been caused by magic or by ancestral spirits. They
admit that some accidents are due to nothing but the
patient's carelessness or stupidity. If a native gets his leg
run over by a waggon, the people will often say that it is
all his own fault through being clumsy. In other cases,
with delightful inconsistency, they may say that some one
has been working magic to cause the accident. In short, it
is impossible to make out a theory of sickness which will
satisfy our European conception of consistency."<a id="footnotetag55" name="footnotetag55"></a><a href="#footnote55"><sup>55</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">The admission that death may be due to natural causes, marks
an intellectual advance. The recognition of ghosts or spirits as a cause
of disease, apart from sorcery, also marks a step in intellectual,
moral, and social progress.</p>

<p>From the foregoing accounts we see that the Melanesians
and the Caffres, two widely different and widely separated
races, agree in recognising at least three distinct causes of
what we should call natural death. These three causes are,
first, sorcery or witchcraft; second, ghosts or spirits; and third,
disease.<a id="footnotetag56" name="footnotetag56"></a><a href="#footnote56"><sup>56</sup></a> That the recognition of disease in itself as a cause
of death, quite apart from sorcery, marks an intellectual
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page57" id="page57"></a>[pg 57]</span>
advance, will not be disputed.  It is not so clear, though
I believe it is equally true, that the recognition of ghosts or
spirits as a cause of disease, quite apart from witchcraft,
marks a real step in intellectual, moral, and social progress.
In the first place, it marks a step in intellectual and moral
progress; for it recognises that effects which before had been
ascribed to human agency spring from superhuman causes;
and this recognition of powers in the universe superior to man
is not only an intellectual gain but a moral discipline: it
teaches the important lesson of humility.  In the second
place it marks a step in social progress because when the blame
of a death is laid upon a ghost or a spirit instead of on a
sorcerer, the death has not to be avenged by killing a human
being, the supposed author of the calamity. Thus the
recognition of ghosts or spirits as the sources of sickness and
death has as its immediate effect the sparing of an immense
number of lives of men and women, who on the theory of
death by sorcery would have perished by violence to expiate
their imaginary crime. That this is a great gain to society
is obvious: it adds immensely to the security of human life by
removing one of the most fruitful causes of its destruction.</p>

<p>It must be admitted, however, that the gain is not
always as great as might be expected; the social advantages
of a belief in ghosts and spirits are attended by many serious
drawbacks. For while ghosts or spirits are commonly,
though not always, supposed to be beyond the reach of
human vengeance, they are generally thought to be well
within the reach of human persuasion, flattery, and bribery;
in other words, men think that they can appease and
propitiate them by prayer and sacrifice; and while prayer
is always cheap, sacrifice may be very dear, since it can,
and often does, involve the destruction of an immense
deal of valuable property and of a vast number of human
lives. Yet if we could reckon up the myriads who have
been slain in sacrifice to ghosts and gods, it seems probable
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page58" id="page58"></a>[pg 58]</span>
that they would fall far short of the untold multitudes
who have perished as sorcerers and witches. For while
human sacrifices in honour of deities or of the dead have
been for the most part exceptional rather than regular, only
the great gods and the illustrious dead being deemed worthy
of such costly offerings, the slaughter of witches and wizards,
theoretically at least, followed inevitably on every natural
death among people who attributed all such deaths to sorcery.
Hence if natural religion be defined roughly as a belief in
superhuman spiritual beings and an attempt to propitiate
them, we may perhaps say that, while natural religion has
slain its thousands, magic has slain its ten thousands. But
there are strong reasons for inferring that in the history of
society an Age of Magic preceded an Age of Religion. If
that was so, we may conclude that the advent of religion
marked a great social as well as intellectual advance upon
the preceding Age of Magic: it inaugurated an era of what
might be described as mercy by comparison with the relentless
severity of its predecessor.</p>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote6" name="footnote6"></a><b>Footnote 6:</b><a href="#footnotetag6"> (return) </a><p> W. Martin, <i>An Account of the Natives of the Tonga Islands</i>, Second
Edition (London, 1818), ii. 99.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote7" name="footnote7"></a><b>Footnote 7:</b><a href="#footnotetag7"> (return) </a><p> M. Dobrizhoffer, <i>Historia de Abiponibus</i>
(Vienna, 1784), ii. 92 <i>sq.</i>, 240
<i>sqq.</i> The author of this valuable
work lived as a Catholic missionary in
the tribe for eighteen years.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote8" name="footnote8"></a><b>Footnote 8:</b><a href="#footnotetag8"> (return) </a><p> C. Gay, "Fragment d'un Voyage dans le Chili et au Cusco,"
<i>Bulletin de la Soci&eacute;t&eacute; de G&eacute;ographie</i> (Paris), Deuxi&egrave;me S&eacute;rie,
xix. (1843) p. 25; H. Delaporte, "Une visite chez les Araucaniens,"
<i>Bulletin de la Soci&eacute;t&eacute; de G&eacute;ographie</i> (Paris), Quatri&egrave;me S&eacute;rie, x.
(1855) p. 30.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote9" name="footnote9"></a><b>Footnote 9:</b><a href="#footnotetag9"> (return) </a><p> K. von den Steinen, <i>Unter den
Naturv&ouml;lkern Zentral-Brasiliens</i>
(Berlin, 1894), pp. 344, 348.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote10" name="footnote10"></a><b>Footnote 10:</b><a href="#footnotetag10"> (return) </a><p> Rev. W. H. Brett, <i>The Indian
Tribes of Guiana</i> (London, 1868), p.
357.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote11" name="footnote11"></a><b>Footnote 11:</b><a href="#footnotetag11"> (return) </a><p>W. H. Brett, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 361 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote12" name="footnote12"></a><b>Footnote 12:</b><a href="#footnotetag12"> (return) </a><p>Rev. W. H. Brett, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 364 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote13" name="footnote13"></a><b>Footnote 13:</b><a href="#footnotetag13"> (return) </a><p> Rev. J. H. Bernau, <i>Missionary Labours in British Guiana</i> (London,
1847), pp. 56 <i>sq.</i>, 58.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote14" name="footnote14"></a><b>Footnote 14:</b><a href="#footnotetag14"> (return) </a><p> (Sir) E. F. im Thurn, <i>Among the
Indians of Guiana</i> (London, 1883), pp.
330 <i>sq.</i> For the case described see R.
Schomburgk, <i>Reisen in Britisch-Guiana</i>,
i. (Leipsic, 1847) pp. 324 <i>sq.</i> The boy
died of dropsy. Perhaps the mode of
divination adopted, by boiling some
portions of him in water, had special
reference to the nature of the disease.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote15" name="footnote15"></a><b>Footnote 15:</b><a href="#footnotetag15"> (return) </a><p> (Sir) E. F. im Thurn, <i>op. cit.</i> pp.
332 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote16" name="footnote16"></a><b>Footnote 16:</b><a href="#footnotetag16"> (return) </a><p> Father A. G. Morice, "The Canadian D&eacute;n&eacute;s," <i>Annual
Archaeological Report, 1905</i> (Toronto, 1906), p. 207.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote17" name="footnote17"></a><b>Footnote 17:</b><a href="#footnotetag17"> (return) </a><p> Albert A. C. Le Sou&euml;f, "Notes on the Natives of
Australia," in R. Brough Smyth's <i>Aborigines of Victoria</i>
(Melbourne and London, 1878), ii. 289 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote18" name="footnote18"></a><b>Footnote 18:</b><a href="#footnotetag18"> (return) </a><p> (Sir) George Grey, <i>Journals of two Expeditions of
Discovery in Northwest and Western Australia</i> (London, 1841), ii.
238.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote19" name="footnote19"></a><b>Footnote 19:</b><a href="#footnotetag19"> (return) </a><p> A. Oldfield, "The Aborigines of Australia,"
<i>Transactions of the Ethnological Society of London</i>, N.S. iii.
(1865) p. 236.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote20" name="footnote20"></a><b>Footnote 20:</b><a href="#footnotetag20"> (return) </a><p>A. Oldfield, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 245.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote21" name="footnote21"></a><b>Footnote 21:</b><a href="#footnotetag21"> (return) </a><p> J. Dawson, <i>Australian Aborigines</i> (Melbourne, Sydney
and Adelaide, 1881), p. 63.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote22" name="footnote22"></a><b>Footnote 22:</b><a href="#footnotetag22"> (return) </a><p> H. E. A. Meyer, "Manners and Customs of the Aborigines of
the Encounter Bay Tribe," <i>Native Tribes of South Australia</i>
(Adelaide, 1879), p. 195.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote23" name="footnote23"></a><b>Footnote 23:</b><a href="#footnotetag23"> (return) </a><p> C. W. Sch&uuml;rmann, "The Aboriginal Tribes of Port Lincoln in
South Australia," <i>Native Tribes of South Australia</i>, pp. 237
<i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote24" name="footnote24"></a><b>Footnote 24:</b><a href="#footnotetag24"> (return) </a><p> Rev. G. Taplin, "The Narrinyeri," <i>Native Tribes of
South Australia</i> (Adelaide, 1879), p. 25.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote25" name="footnote25"></a><b>Footnote 25:</b><a href="#footnotetag25"> (return) </a><p> R. Brough Smyth, <i>The Aborigines of Victoria</i>
(Melbourne and London, 1878) i. 110.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote26" name="footnote26"></a><b>Footnote 26:</b><a href="#footnotetag26"> (return) </a><p> W. E. Stanbridge, "Some Particulars of the General
Characteristics, Astronomy, and Mythology of the Tribes in the Central
Part of Victoria, Southern Australia," <i>Transactions of the
Ethnological Society of London</i>, New Series, i. (1861) p. 299.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote27" name="footnote27"></a><b>Footnote 27:</b><a href="#footnotetag27"> (return) </a><p> Lorimer Fison and A. W. Howitt, <i>Kamilaroi and
Kurnai</i> (Melbourne, Sydney, Adelaide, and Brisbane, 1880), pp. 250
<i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote28" name="footnote28"></a><b>Footnote 28:</b><a href="#footnotetag28"> (return) </a><p> A. L. P. Cameron, "Notes on some Tribes of New South
Wales," <i>Journal of the Anthropological Institute</i> xiv. (1885) pp.
361, 362 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote29" name="footnote29"></a><b>Footnote 29:</b><a href="#footnotetag29"> (return) </a><p> Rev. W. Ridley, <i>Kamilaroi</i>, Second Edition (Sydney,
1875), p. 159.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote30" name="footnote30"></a><b>Footnote 30:</b><a href="#footnotetag30"> (return) </a><p> Baldwin Spencer and F. J. Gillen, <i>Native Tribes of
Central Australia</i> (London, 1899), pp. 46-48.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote31" name="footnote31"></a><b>Footnote 31:</b><a href="#footnotetag31"> (return) </a><p> <i>Reports of the Cambridge Anthropological Expedition to
Torres Straits</i>, v. (Cambridge, 1904) pp. 248, 323.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote32" name="footnote32"></a><b>Footnote 32:</b><a href="#footnotetag32"> (return) </a><p> E. Beardmore, "The Natives of Mowat, British New Guinea,"
<i>Journal of the Anthropological Institute</i>, xix. (1890) p. 461.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote33" name="footnote33"></a><b>Footnote 33:</b><a href="#footnotetag33"> (return) </a><p> R. E. Guise, "On the Tribes inhabiting the Mouth of the
Wanigela River, New Guinea," <i>Journal of the Anthropological
Institute</i>, xxviii. (1899) p. 216.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote34" name="footnote34"></a><b>Footnote 34:</b><a href="#footnotetag34"> (return) </a><p> C. G. Seligmann, <i>The Melanesians of British New
Guinea</i> (Cambridge, 1910), p. 279.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote35" name="footnote35"></a><b>Footnote 35:</b><a href="#footnotetag35"> (return) </a><p> K. Vetter, <i>Komm her&uuml;ber und hilf uns! oder die Arbeit
der Neuen-Dettelsauer Mission</i>, iii. (Barmen, 1898) pp. 10
<i>sq.</i>; <i>id.</i>, in <i>Nachrichten &uuml;ber Kaiser-Wilhelms-Land und
den Bismarck-Archipel, 1897</i>, pp. 94, 98. Compare B. Hagen, <i>Unter
den Papuas</i> (Wiesbaden, 1899), p. 256; <i>Verhandlungen der Berliner
Gesellschaft f&uuml;r Anthropologie, Ethnologie, und Urgeschichte, 1900</i>,
p. (415).</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote36" name="footnote36"></a><b>Footnote 36:</b><a href="#footnotetag36"> (return) </a><p>Father A. Deniau, "Croyances religieuses et m&oelig;urs des
indig&egrave;nes de l'Ile Malo," <i>Missions Catholiques</i>, xxxiii. (1901)
pp. 315 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote37" name="footnote37"></a><b>Footnote 37:</b><a href="#footnotetag37"> (return) </a><p> C. Ribbe, <i>Zwei Jahre unter den Kannibalen der
Salomo-Inseln</i> (Dresden-Blasewitz, 1903), p. 268.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote38" name="footnote38"></a><b>Footnote 38:</b><a href="#footnotetag38"> (return) </a><p> P. A. Kleintitschen, <i>Die K&uuml;stenbewohner der
Gazellehalbinsel</i> (Hiltrup bei M&uuml;nster, <span class="sc">N.D.</span>), p. 344. As to beliefs
of this sort among the Sulka of New Britain, see <i>P.</i> Rascher, "Die
Sulka," <i>Archiv f&uuml;r Anthropologie</i>, xxix. (1904) pp. 221
<i>sq.</i>; R. Parkinson, <i>Dreissig Jahre in der S&uuml;dsee</i>
(Stuttgart, 1907), pp. 199-201.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote39" name="footnote39"></a><b>Footnote 39:</b><a href="#footnotetag39"> (return) </a><p> G. Brown, D.D., <i>Melanesians and Polynesians</i>
(London, 1910), p. 176. Dr. Brown's account, of the Melanesians applies
to the natives of New Britain and more particularly of the neighbouring
Duke of York islands.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote40" name="footnote40"></a><b>Footnote 40:</b><a href="#footnotetag40"> (return) </a><p> Father Abinal, "Astrologie Malgache," <i>Missions
Catholiques</i>, xi. (1879) p. 506.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote41" name="footnote41"></a><b>Footnote 41:</b><a href="#footnotetag41"> (return) </a><p> A. Grandidier, "Madagascar," <i>Bulletin de la Soci&eacute;t&eacute; de
G&eacute;ographie</i> (Paris), Sixi&egrave;me S&eacute;rie, iii. (1872) pp. 399 <i>sq.</i>
The talismans (<i>ahouli</i>) in question consist of the horns of oxen
stuffed with a variety of odds and ends, such as sand, sticks, nails,
and so forth.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote42" name="footnote42"></a><b>Footnote 42:</b><a href="#footnotetag42"> (return) </a><p> Major A. J. N. Tremearne, <i>The Tailed Head-hunters of
Nigeria</i> (London, 1912), pp. 171 <i>sq.</i>; <i>id.</i>, "Notes on
the Kagoro and other Headhunters," <i>Journal of the Royal
Anthropological Institute</i>, xlii. (1912) pp. 160, 161.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote43" name="footnote43"></a><b>Footnote 43:</b><a href="#footnotetag43"> (return) </a><p> E. Hurel, "Religion et vie domestique des Bakerewe,"
<i>Anthropos</i>, vi. (1912) pp. 85-87.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote44" name="footnote44"></a><b>Footnote 44:</b><a href="#footnotetag44"> (return) </a><p> Father Campana, "Congo Mission Catholique de Landana,"
<i>Missions Catholiques</i>, xxvii. (1895) pp. 102 <i>sq</i>.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote45" name="footnote45"></a><b>Footnote 45:</b><a href="#footnotetag45"> (return) </a><p> Th. Masui, <i>Guide de la Section de l'&Eacute;tat Ind&eacute;pendant du
Congo &agrave; l'Exposition de Bruxelles&mdash;Tervueren en 1874</i> (Brussels,
1897), p. 82.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote46" name="footnote46"></a><b>Footnote 46:</b><a href="#footnotetag46"> (return) </a><p> See for example O. Lenz, <i>Skizzen aus Westafrika</i>
(Berlin, 1878), pp. 184 <i>sq.</i>; C. Cuny, "De Libreville au
Cameroun," <i>Bulletin de la Soci&eacute;t&eacute; de G&eacute;ographie</i> (Paris), Septi&egrave;me
S&eacute;rie, xvii. (1896) p. 341; Ch. Wunenberger, "La mission et le royaume
de Humb&eacute;, sur les bords du Cun&egrave;ne," <i>Missions Catholiques</i>, xx.
(1888) p. 262; Lieut. Herold, "Bericht betreffend religi&ouml;se Anschauungen
und Gebr&auml;uche der deutschen Ewe-Neger," <i>Mittheilungen aus den
deutschen Schutzgebieten</i>, v. (1892) p. 153; Dr. R. Plehn, "Beitr&auml;ge
zur V&ouml;lkerkunde des Togo-Gebietes," <i>Mittheilungen des Seminars f&uuml;r
Orientalische Sprachen zu Berlin</i>, ii. Dritte Abtheilung (1899), p.
97; R. Fisch, "Die Dagbamba," <i>Baessler-Archiv</i>, iii. (1912) p.
148. For evidence of similar beliefs and practices in other parts of
Africa, see Brard, "Der Victoria-Nyanza," <i>Petermann's
Mittheilungen</i>, xliii. (1897) pp. 79 <i>sq.</i>; Father Picarda,
"Autour du Mand&eacute;ra," <i>Missions Catholiques</i>, xviii. (1886) p. 342.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote47" name="footnote47"></a><b>Footnote 47:</b><a href="#footnotetag47"> (return) </a><p> Rev. R. H. Nassau, <i>Fetichism in West Africa</i> (London,
1904), pp. 241 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote48" name="footnote48"></a><b>Footnote 48:</b><a href="#footnotetag48"> (return) </a><p> "Strange Adventures of Andrew Battel," in John Pinkerton's
<i>Voyages and Travels</i>, xvi. (London, 1814) p. 334.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote49" name="footnote49"></a><b>Footnote 49:</b><a href="#footnotetag49"> (return) </a><p> <i>Gouvernement G&eacute;n&eacute;ral de l'Afrique Occidentale
Fran&ccedil;aise, Notices publi&eacute;es par le Gouvernement Central &agrave; l'occasion de
l'Exposition Coloniale de Marseille, La C&ocirc;te d'Ivoire</i> (Corbeil,
1906), pp. 570-572.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote50" name="footnote50"></a><b>Footnote 50:</b><a href="#footnotetag50"> (return) </a><p> Hugh Goldie, <i>Calabar and its Mission</i>, New Edition
(Edinburgh and London, 1901), pp. 34 <i>sq.</i>, 37 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote51" name="footnote51"></a><b>Footnote 51:</b><a href="#footnotetag51"> (return) </a><p>Above, p. 35.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote52" name="footnote52"></a><b>Footnote 52:</b><a href="#footnotetag52"> (return) </a><p> E. R. Smith, <i>The Araucanians</i>
(London, 1855), pp. 236 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote53" name="footnote53"></a><b>Footnote 53:</b><a href="#footnotetag53"> (return) </a><p> Father Trilles, "Milles lieues dans l'inconnu; &agrave; travers
le pays Fang, de la c&ocirc;te aux rives du Djah," <i>Missions
Catholiques</i>, xxxv. (1903) pp. 466 <i>sq.</i>, and as to the poison
ordeal, <i>ib.</i> pp. 472 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote54" name="footnote54"></a><b>Footnote 54:</b><a href="#footnotetag54"> (return) </a><p>R. H. Codrington, <i>The Melanesians</i> (Oxford, 1891), p. 194.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote55" name="footnote55"></a><b>Footnote 55:</b><a href="#footnotetag55"> (return) </a><p> Dudley Kidd, <i>The Essential Kafir</i>
(London, 1904), pp. 133 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote56" name="footnote56"></a><b>Footnote 56:</b><a href="#footnotetag56"> (return) </a><p> In like manner the Baganda generally ascribed natural
deaths either to sorcery or to the action of a ghost; but when they
could not account for a person's death in either of these ways they said
that Walumbe, the God of Death, had taken him. This last explanation
approaches to an admission of natural death, though it is still mythical
in form. The Baganda usually attributed any illness of the king to
ghosts, because no man would dare to practise magic on him. A
much-dreaded ghost was that of a man's sister; she was thought to vent
her spite on his sons and daughters by visiting them with sickness. When
she proved implacable, a medicine-man was employed to catch her ghost in
a gourd or a pot and throw it away on waste land or drown it in a river.
See Rev. J. Roscoe, <i>The Baganda</i> (London, 1911), pp. 98, 100, 101
<i>sq.</i>, 286 <i>sq.</i>, 315 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<span class="pagenum"><a name="page59" id="page59"></a>[pg 59]</span>




<h2><a name="lecture-iii" id="lecture-iii"></a>LECTURE III</h2>

<h3>MYTHS OF THE ORIGIN OF DEATH</h3>


<p class="side">Belief of savages in man's natural immortality.</p>

<p>In my last lecture I shewed that many savages do not
believe in what we call a natural death; they imagine that
all men are naturally immortal and would never die, if
their lives were not cut prematurely short by sorcery.
Further, I pointed out that this mistaken view of the nature
of death has exercised a disastrous influence on the tribes
who entertain it, since, attributing all natural deaths to
sorcery, they consider themselves bound to discover and
kill the wicked sorcerers whom they regard as responsible
for the death of their friends. Thus in primitive society as
a rule every natural death entails at least one and often
several deaths by violence; since the supposed culprit being
unknown suspicion may fall upon many persons, all of whom
may be killed either out of hand or as a consequence of
failing to demonstrate their innocence by means of an
ordeal.</p>

<p class="side">Savage stories of the origin of death.</p>

<p>Yet even the savages who firmly believe in man's
natural immortality are obliged sorrowfully to admit that,
as things are at the present day, men do frequently die,
whatever explanation we may give of so unexpected and
unnatural an occurrence. Accordingly they are hard put
to it to reconcile their theory of immortality with the
practice of mortality. They have meditated on the subject
and have given us the fruit of their meditation in a series of
myths which profess to explain the origin of death. For
the most part these myths are very crude and childish; yet
they have a value of their own as examples of man's
early attempts to fathom one of the great mysteries which
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page60" id="page60"></a>[pg 60]</span>
encompass his frail and transient existence on earth; and
accordingly I have here collected, in all their naked simplicity,
a few of these savage guesses at truth.</p>

<p class="side">Four types of such stories.</p>

<p>Myths of the origin of death conform to several types,
among which we may distinguish, first, what I will call the
type of the Two Messengers; second, the type of the Waxing
and Waning Moon; third, the type of the Serpent and
his Cast Skin; and fourth, the type of the Banana-tree. I
will illustrate each type by examples, and will afterwards
cite some miscellaneous instances which do not fall under
any of these heads.</p>

<p class="side">I. The tale of the Two Messengers. Zulu story of the
chameleon and the lizard. The same story among other Bantu tribes.</p>

<p>First, then, we begin with the type of the Two
Messengers. Stories of this pattern are widespread in
Africa, especially among tribes belonging to the great
Bantu family, which occupies roughly the southern half
of the continent. The best-known example of the tale
is the one told by the Zulus. They say that in the
beginning Unkulunkulu, that is, the Old Old One, sent
the chameleon to men with a message saying, "Go, chameleon,
go and say, Let not men die." The chameleon
set out, but it crawled very slowly, and it loitered by the
way to eat the purple berries of the <i>ubukwebezane</i> tree, or
according to others it climbed up a tree to bask in the
sun, filled its belly with flies, and fell fast asleep. Meantime
the Old Old One had thought better of it and sent a
lizard posting after the chameleon with a very different
message to men, for he said to the animal, "Lizard, when
you have arrived, say, Let men die." So the lizard went on
his way, passed the dawdling chameleon, and arriving first
among men delivered his message of death, saying, "Let
men die." Then he turned on his heel and went back to
the Old Old One who had sent him. But after he was gone,
the chameleon at last arrived among men with his glad
tidings of immortality, and he shouted, saying, "It is said,
Let not men die!" But men answered, "O! we have heard
the word of the lizard; it has told us the word, 'It is said,
Let men die.' We cannot hear your word. Through the
word of the lizard, men will die." And died they have ever
since from that day to this. That is why some of the Zulus
hate the lizard, saying, "Why did he run first and say, 'Let
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page61" id="page61"></a>[pg 61]</span>
people die?'" So they beat and kill the lizard and say,
"Why did it speak?" But others hate the chameleon and
hustle it, saying, "That is the little thing which delayed to
tell the people that they should not die. If he had only
brought his message in time we should not have died; our
ancestors also would have been still living; there would
have been no diseases here on the earth. It all comes from
the delay of the chameleon."<a id="footnotetag57" name="footnotetag57"></a><a href="#footnote57"><sup>57</sup></a> The same story is told in
nearly the same form by other Bantu tribes, such as the
Bechuanas,<a id="footnotetag58" name="footnotetag58"></a><a href="#footnote58"><sup>58</sup></a> the Basutos,<a id="footnotetag59" name="footnotetag59"></a><a href="#footnote59"><sup>59</sup></a> the Baronga,<a id="footnotetag60" name="footnotetag60"></a><a href="#footnote60"><sup>60</sup></a> and the Ngoni.<a id="footnotetag61" name="footnotetag61"></a><a href="#footnote61"><sup>61</sup></a>
To this day the Baronga and the Ngoni owe the chameleon
a grudge for having brought death into the world, so when
children find a chameleon they will induce it to open its
mouth, then throw a pinch of tobacco on its tongue, and
watch with delight the creature writhing and changing
colour from orange to green, from green to black in the
agony of death; for thus they avenge the wrong which the
chameleon has done to mankind.<a id="footnotetag62" name="footnotetag62"></a><a href="#footnote62"><sup>62</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Akamba story of the chameleon and the thrush.</p>

<p>A story of the same type, but with some variations, is
told by the Akamba, a Bantu tribe of British East Africa;
but in their version the lizard has disappeared from the legend
and has been replaced by the <i>itoroko</i>, a small bird of the
thrush tribe, with a black head, a bluish-black back, and a
buff-coloured breast. The tale runs thus:&mdash;Once upon a
time God sent out the chameleon, the frog, and the thrush to
find people who died one day and came to life again the next.
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page62" id="page62"></a>[pg 62]</span>
So off they set, the chameleon leading the way, for in those
days he was a very important personage. Presently they
came to some people lying like dead, so the chameleon went
up to them and said, <i>Niwe, niwe, niwe</i>. The thrush asked
him testily what he was making that noise for, to which the
chameleon replied mildly, "I am only calling the people
who go forward and then came back again," and he
explained that the dead people would come to life again.
But the thrush, who was of a sceptical turn of mind, derided
the idea. Nevertheless, the chameleon persisted in calling
to the dead people, and sure enough they opened their
eyes and listened to him. But here the thrush broke in
and told them roughly that dead they were and dead
they must remain. With that away he flew, and though
the chameleon preached to the corpses, telling them
that he had come from God on purpose to bring them to
life again, and that they were not to believe the lies of that
shallow sceptic the thrush, they obstinately refused to pay
any heed to him; not one of those dead corpses would
budge. So the chameleon returned crestfallen to God and
reported to him how, when he preached the gospel of resurrection
to the corpses, the thrush had roared him down,
so that the corpses could not hear a word he said. God
thereupon cross-questioned the thrush, who stated that the
chameleon had so bungled his message that he, the thrush,
felt it his imperative duty to interrupt him. The simple
deity believed the thrush, and being very angry with the
chameleon he degraded him from his high position and
made him walk very slow, lurching this way and that, as he
does down to this very day. But the thrush he promoted
to the office of wakening men from their slumber every
morning, which he still does punctually at 2 <span class="sc">A.M.</span> before
the note of any other bird is heard in the tropical forest.<a id="footnotetag63" name="footnotetag63"></a><a href="#footnote63"><sup>63</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Togo story of the dog and the frog.</p>

<p>In this version, though the frog is sent out by God
with the other two messengers he plays no part in the
story; he is a mere dummy. But in another version of
the story, which is told by the negroes of Togoland
in German West Africa, the frog takes the place of the
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page63" id="page63"></a>[pg 63]</span>
lizard and the thrush as the messenger of death. They
say that once upon a time men sent a dog to God to say
that when they died they would like to come to life again.
So off the dog trotted to deliver the message. But on the
way he felt hungry and turned into a house, where a man
was boiling magic herbs. So the dog sat down and thought
to himself, "He is cooking food." Meantime the frog had
set off to tell God that when men died they would like not
to come to life again. Nobody had asked him to give that
message; it was a piece of pure officiousness and impertinence
on his part. However, away he tore. The dog, who still
sat watching the hell-broth brewing, saw him hurrying past
the door, but he thought to himself, "When I have had
something to eat, I will soon catch froggy up." However,
froggy came in first and said to the deity, "When men die,
they would like not to come to life again." After that, up
comes the dog, and says he, "When men die, they would
like to come to life again." God was naturally puzzled and
said to the dog, "I really do not understand these two
messages. As I heard the frog's request first, I will comply
with it. I will not do what you said." That is the real
reason why men die and do not come to life again. If the
frog had only minded his own business instead of meddling
with other people's, the dead would all have come to life
again to this day.<a id="footnotetag64" name="footnotetag64"></a><a href="#footnote64"><sup>64</sup></a> In this version of the story not only are
the persons of the two messengers different, the dog and the
frog having replaced the chameleon and the lizard of the
Bantu version, but the messengers are sent from men to God
instead of from God to men.</p>

<p class="side">Ashantee story of the goat and the sheep.</p>

<p>In another version told by the Ashantees of West Africa
the persons of the messengers are again different, but as in
the Bantu version they are sent from God to men. The
Ashantees say that long ago men were happy, for God
dwelt among them and talked with them face to face. For
example, if a child was roasting yams at the fire and wanted
a relish to eat with the yams, he had nothing to do but to
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page64" id="page64"></a>[pg 64]</span>
throw a stick in the air and say, "God give me fish," and God
gave him fish at once. However, these happy days did not last
for ever. One unlucky day it happened that some women were
pounding a mash with pestles in a mortar, while God stood
by looking on. For some reason they were annoyed by the
presence of the deity and told him to be off; and as he did
not take himself off fast enough to please them, they beat
him with their pestles. In a great huff God retired
altogether from the world and left it to the direction of the
fetishes; and still to this day people say, "Ah, if it had not
been for that old woman, how happy we should be!"
However, after he had withdrawn to heaven, the long-suffering
deity sent a kind message by a goat to men upon earth
to say, "There is something which they call Death. He
will kill some of you. But even if you die, you will not
perish completely. You will come to me in heaven." So
off the goat set with this cheering intelligence. But before
he came to the town he saw a tempting bush by the wayside
and stopped to browse on it. When God in heaven
saw the goat thus loitering by the way, he sent off a sheep
with the same message to carry the glad tidings to men
without delay. But the sheep did not give the message
aright. Far from it: he said, "God sends you word that
you will die and that will be an end of you." Afterwards
the goat arrived on the scene and said, "God sends you
word that you will die, certainly, but that will not be the
end of you, for you will go to him." But men said to the
goat, "No, goat, that is not what God said. We believe
that the message which the sheep brought us is the one
which God sent to us." That was the beginning of death
among men.<a id="footnotetag65" name="footnotetag65"></a><a href="#footnote65"><sup>65</sup></a> However, in another Ashantee version of the
tale the parts played by the sheep and the goat are reversed.
It is the sheep who brings the tidings of immortality from
God to men, but the goat overruns him and offers them
death instead. Not knowing what death was, men accepted
the seeming boon with enthusiasm and have died ever since.<a id="footnotetag66" name="footnotetag66"></a><a href="#footnote66"><sup>66</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">II. The story of the Waxing and Waning Moon. Hottentot story
of the Moon, the hare, and death.</p>

<p>So much for the tale of the Two Messengers. In the
last versions of it which I have quoted, a feature to be
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page65" id="page65"></a>[pg 65]</span>
noticed is the perversion of the message by one of the
messengers, who brings tidings of death instead of life
eternal to men. The same perversion of the message reappears
in some examples of the next type of story which
I shall illustrate, namely the type of the Waxing and
Waning Moon. Thus the Namaquas or Hottentots say that
once the Moon charged the hare to go to men and say, "As
I die and rise to life again, so shall you die and rise to life
again." So the hare went to men, but either out of forgetfulness
or malice he reversed the message and said, "As I
die and do not rise to life again, so you shall also die and
not rise to life again." Then he went back to the Moon,
and she asked him what he had said. He told her, and
when she heard how he had given the wrong message, she
was so angry that she threw a stick at him and split his
lip, which is the reason why the hare's lip is still split. So
the hare ran away and is still running to this day. Some
people, however, say that before he fled he clawed the
Moon's face, which still bears the marks of the scratching,
as anybody may see for himself on a clear moonlight night.
So the Hottentots are still angry with the hare for bringing
death into the world, and they will not let initiated men
partake of its flesh.<a id="footnotetag67" name="footnotetag67"></a><a href="#footnote67"><sup>67</sup></a> There are traces of a similar story
among the Bushmen.<a id="footnotetag68" name="footnotetag68"></a><a href="#footnote68"><sup>68</sup></a> In another Hottentot version two
messengers appear, an insect and a hare; the insect is
charged by the Moon with a message of immortality or
rather of resurrection to men, but the hare persuades the
insect to let him bear the tidings, which he perverts into a
message of annihilation.<a id="footnotetag69" name="footnotetag69"></a><a href="#footnote69"><sup>69</sup></a> Thus in this particular version the
type of the Two Messengers coincides with the Moon type.</p>

<p class="side">Masai story of the moon and death.</p>

<p>A story of the same type, though different in details, is
told by the Masai of East Africa. They say that in the
early days a certain god named Naiteru-kop told a man
named Le-eyo that if a child were to die he was to throw
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page66" id="page66"></a>[pg 66]</span>
away the body and say, "Man, die, and come back again;
moon, die, and remain away." Well, soon afterwards a child
died, but it was not one of the man's own children, so when
he threw the body away he said, "Man, die, and remain
away; moon, die, and return." Next one of his own
children died, and when he threw away the body he said,
"Man, die, and return; moon, die, and remain away." But
the god said to him, "It is of no use now, for you
spoilt matters with the other child." That is why down to
this day when a man dies he returns no more, but when the
moon dies she always comes to life again.<a id="footnotetag70" name="footnotetag70"></a><a href="#footnote70"><sup>70</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Nandi story of the moon, the dog, and death.</p>

<p>Another story of the origin of death which belongs to
this type is told by the Nandi of British East Africa. They
say that when the first people lived upon the earth a dog
came to them one day and said: "All people will die like the
moon, but unlike the moon you will not return to life again
unless you give me some milk to drink out of your gourd,
and beer to drink through your straw. If you do this, I
will arrange for you to go to the river when you die and to
come to life again on the third day." But the people
laughed at the dog, and gave him some milk and beer to
drink off a stool. The dog was angry at not being served
in the same vessels as a human being, and though he put
his pride in his pocket and drank the milk and the beer
from the stool, he went away in high dudgeon, saying, "All
people will die, and the moon alone will return to life."
That is the reason why, when people die, they stay away,
whereas when the moon goes away she comes back again
after three days' absence.<a id="footnotetag71" name="footnotetag71"></a><a href="#footnote71"><sup>71</sup></a> The Wa-Sania of British East
Africa believe that in days gone by people never died, till
one unlucky day a lizard came and said to them, "All of you
know that the moon dies and rises again, but human beings
will die and rise no more." They say that from that day
people began to die and have persisted in dying ever since.<a id="footnotetag72" name="footnotetag72"></a><a href="#footnote72"><sup>72</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Fijian story of the moon, the rat, and death. Caroline
Islands story of the moon, death, and resurrection. Wotjobaluk story of
the moon, death, and resurrection. Cham story of the moon, death, and
resurrection.</p>

<p>With these African stories of the origin of death we may
compare one told by the Fijians on the other side of the
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page67" id="page67"></a>[pg 67]</span>
world. They say that once upon a time the Moon contended
that men should be like himself (for the Fijian moon
seems to be a male); that is, he meant that just as he grows
old, disappears, and comes in sight again, so men grown old
should vanish for a while and then return to life. But the
rat, who is a Fijian god, would not hear of it. "No," said
he, "let men die like rats." And he had the best of it
in the dispute, for men die like rats to this day.<a id="footnotetag73" name="footnotetag73"></a><a href="#footnote73"><sup>73</sup></a> In the
Caroline Islands they say that long, long ago death was
unknown, or rather it was a short sleep, not a long, long
one, as it is now. Men died on the last day of the waning
moon and came to life again on the first appearance of the
new moon, just as if they had awakened from a refreshing
slumber. But an evil spirit somehow contrived that when
men slept the sleep of death they should wake no more.<a id="footnotetag74" name="footnotetag74"></a><a href="#footnote74"><sup>74</sup></a>
The Wotjobaluk of south-eastern Australia relate that, when
all animals were men and women, some of them died and
the moon used to say, "You up-again," whereupon they
came to life again. But once on a time an old man said,
"Let them remain dead"; and since then nobody has ever
come to life again except the moon, which still continues to
do so down to this very day.<a id="footnotetag75" name="footnotetag75"></a><a href="#footnote75"><sup>75</sup></a> The Chams of Annam and
Cambodia say that the goddess of good luck used to resuscitate
people as fast as they died, till the sky-god, tired of
her constant interference with the laws of nature, transferred
her to the moon, where it is no longer in her power to bring
the dead to life again.<a id="footnotetag76" name="footnotetag76"></a><a href="#footnote76"><sup>76</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Cycle of death and resurrection after three days, like the
monthly disappearance and reappearance of the moon.</p>

<p>These stories which associate human immortality with
the moon are products of a primitive philosophy which,
meditating on the visible changes, of the lunar orb, drew
from the observation of its waning and waxing a dim
notion that under a happier fate man might have been
immortal like the moon, or rather that like it he might have
undergone an endless cycle of death and resurrection, dying
then rising again from the dead after three days. The
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page68" id="page68"></a>[pg 68]</span>
same curious notion of death and resurrection after three
days is entertained by the Unmatjera and Kaitish, two
savage tribes of Central Australia. They say that long ago
their dead used to be buried either in trees or underground,
and that after three days they regularly rose from the dead.
The Kaitish tell how this happy state of things came to an
end. It was all through a man of the Curlew totem, who
finding some men of the Little Wallaby totem burying a
Little Wallaby man, fell into a passion and kicked the body
into the sea. Of course after that the dead man could not
come to life again, and that is why nowadays nobody rises
from the dead after three days, as everybody used to do
long ago.<a id="footnotetag77" name="footnotetag77"></a><a href="#footnote77"><sup>77</sup></a> Although no mention is made of the moon in
this Australian story, we may conjecture that these savages,
like the Nandi of East Africa, fixed upon three days as the
normal interval between death and resurrection simply
because three days is the interval between the disappearance
of the old and the reappearance of the new moon. If that
is so, the aborigines of Central Australia may be added to the
many races of mankind who have seen in the waning and
waxing moon an emblem of human immortality. Nor does
this association of ideas end with a mere tradition that in some
former age men used to die with the old moon and come to
life again with the new moon. Many savages, on seeing the
new moon for the first time in the month, observe ceremonies
which seem to be intended to renew and increase their life
and strength with the renewal and the increase of the lunar
light. For example, on the day when the new moon first
appeared, the Indians of San Juan Capistrano in California
used to call together all the young men and make them run
about, while the old men danced in a circle, saying, "As the
moon dieth and cometh to life again, so we also having to
die will again live."<a id="footnotetag78" name="footnotetag78"></a><a href="#footnote78"><sup>78</sup></a> Again, an old writer tells us that at
the appearance of every new moon the negroes of the Congo
clapped their hands and cried out, sometimes falling on their
knees, "So may I renew my life as thou art renewed."<a id="footnotetag79" name="footnotetag79"></a><a href="#footnote79"><sup>79</sup></a></p>

<span class="pagenum"><a name="page69" id="page69"></a>[pg 69]</span>

<p class="side">III. Story of the Serpent and his Cast Skin. New Britain
story of immortality, the serpent, and death. Annamite story of
immortality, the serpent, and death. Vuatom story of immortality, the
lizard, the serpent, and death.</p>

<p>Another type of stories told to explain the origin of
death is the one which I have called the type of the Serpent
and his Cast Skin. Some savages seem to think that serpents
and all other animals, such as lizards, which periodically shed
their skins, thereby renew their life and so never die. Hence
they imagine that if man also could only cast his old skin
and put on a new one, he too would be immortal like a
serpent. Thus the Melanesians, who inhabit the coast of
the Gazelle Peninsula in New Britain, tell the following story
of the origin of death. They say that To Kambinana, the
Good Spirit, loved men and wished to make them immortal;
but he hated the serpents and wished to kill them. So he
called his brother To Korvuvu and said to him, "Go to men
and take them the secret of immortality. Tell them to cast
their skin every year. So will they be protected from death,
for their life will be constantly renewed.  But tell the
serpents that they must thenceforth die." But To Korvuvu
acquitted himself badly of his task; for he commanded
men to die and betrayed to the serpents the secret of
immortality. Since then all men have been mortal, but
the serpents cast their skins every year and are immortal.<a id="footnotetag80" name="footnotetag80"></a><a href="#footnote80"><sup>80</sup></a>
In this story we meet again with the incident of the
reversed message; through a blunder or through the malice
of the messenger the glad tidings of immortality are perverted
into a melancholy message of death. A similar tale,
with a similar incident, is told in Annam. They say that
Ngoc hoang sent a messenger from heaven to men to say
that when they had reached old age they should change their
skins and live for ever, but that when serpents grew old they
must die. The messenger came down to earth and said,
rightly enough, "When man is old, he shall cast his skin;
but when serpents are old, they shall die and be laid in
coffins." So far, so good. But unfortunately there happened
to be a brood of serpents within hearing, and when they
heard the doom pronounced on their kind they fell into a
fury and said to the messenger, "You must say it over again
and just the contrary, or we will bite you." That frightened
the messenger and he repeated his message, changing the
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page70" id="page70"></a>[pg 70]</span>
words thus: "When he is old, the serpent shall cast his
skin; but when he is old, man shall die and be laid in the
coffin." That is why all creatures are now subject to death,
except the serpent, who, when he is old, casts his skin and
lives for ever.<a id="footnotetag81" name="footnotetag81"></a><a href="#footnote81"><sup>81</sup></a> The natives of Vuatom, an island in the
Bismarck Archipelago, say that a certain To Konokonomiange
bade two lads fetch fire, promising that if they did
so they should never die, but that if they refused their
bodies would perish, though their shades or souls would
survive. They would not hearken to him, so he cursed
them, saying, "What! You would all have lived! Now
you shall die, though your soul shall live. But the iguana
(<i>Goniocephalus</i>) and the lizard (<i>Varanus indicus</i>) and the
snake (<i>Enygrus</i>), they shall live, they shall cast their skin and
they shall live for evermore." When the lads heard that,
they wept, for bitterly they rued their folly in not going to
fetch the fire for To Konokonomiange.<a id="footnotetag82" name="footnotetag82"></a><a href="#footnote82"><sup>82</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Nias story of immortality, the crab, and death. Arawak and
Tamanachier stories of immortality, the serpent, the lizard, the beetle,
and death.</p>

<p>Other peoples tell somewhat different stories to explain
how men missed the boon of immortality and serpents
acquired it. Thus the natives of Nias, an island off the
coast of Sumatra, say that, when the earth was created,
a certain being was sent down by God from heaven to
put the last touches to the work of creation. He should
have fasted for a month, but unable to withstand the pangs
of hunger he ate some bananas. The choice of food was
most unlucky, for had he only eaten river-crabs instead of
bananas men would have cast their skins like crabs and
would never have died.<a id="footnotetag83" name="footnotetag83"></a><a href="#footnote83"><sup>83</sup></a> The Arawaks of British Guiana
relate that once upon a time the Creator came down to earth
to see how his creature man was getting on. But men were
so wicked that they tried to kill him so he deprived them
of eternal life and bestowed it on the animals which renew
their skin, such as serpents, lizards, and beetles.<a id="footnotetag84" name="footnotetag84"></a><a href="#footnote84"><sup>84</sup></a> A somewhat
different version of the story is told by the Tamanachiers,
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page71" id="page71"></a>[pg 71]</span>
an Indian tribe of the Orinoco. They say that after residing
among them for some time the Creator took boat to cross
to the other side of the great salt water from which he had
come. Just as he was shoving off from the shore, he called
out to them in a changed voice, "You will change your
skins," by which he meant to say, "You will renew your
youth like the serpents and the beetles." But unfortunately
an old woman, hearing these words, cried out "Oh!" in
a tone of scepticism, if not of sarcasm, which so annoyed
the Creator that he changed his tune at once and said
testily, "Ye shall die." That is why we are all mortal.<a id="footnotetag85" name="footnotetag85"></a><a href="#footnote85"><sup>85</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Melanesian story of the old woman who renewed her youth by
casting her skin.</p>

<p>The natives of the Banks' Islands and the New Hebrides
believe that there was a time in the beginning of things
when men never died but cast their skins like snakes
and crabs and so renewed their youth. But the unhappy
change to mortality came about at last, as it so often does
in these stories, through an old woman.  Having grown old,
this dame went to a stream to change her skin, and change
it she did, for she stripped off her wizened old hide, cast it
upon the waters, and watched it floating down stream till it
caught on a stick. Then she went home a buxom young
woman. But the child whom she had left at home did not
know her and set up such a prodigious squalling that to
quiet it the woman went straight back to the river, fished
out her cast-off old skin, and put it on again. From that
day to this people have ceased to cast their skins and to live
for ever.<a id="footnotetag86" name="footnotetag86"></a><a href="#footnote86"><sup>86</sup></a> The same legend of the origin of death has
been recorded in the Shortlands Islands<a id="footnotetag87" name="footnotetag87"></a><a href="#footnote87"><sup>87</sup></a> and among the
Kai of German New Guinea.<a id="footnotetag88" name="footnotetag88"></a><a href="#footnote88"><sup>88</sup></a> It is also told with some
variations by the natives of the Admiralty Islands. They
say that once on a time there was an old woman and she
was frail. She had two sons, and they went a-fishing, and
she herself went to bathe. She stripped off her wrinkled
old skin and came forth as young as she had been long ago.
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page72" id="page72"></a>[pg 72]</span>
Her sons came home from the fishing, and very much
astonished were they to see her. The one said, "It is our
mother," but the other said, "She may be your mother, but
she shall be my wife." Their mother heard them and said,
"What were you two saying?" The two said, "Nothing!
We only said that you are our mother." "You are liars,"
said she, "I heard you both. If I had had my way, we
should have grown to be old men and women, and then we
should have cast our skin and been young men and young
women. But you have had your way. We shall grow old
men and old women and then we shall die." With that she
fetched her old skin, and put it on, and became an old
woman again. As for us, her descendants, we grow up and
we grow old. And if it had not been for those two young
men there would have been no end of our days, we should
have lived for ever and ever.<a id="footnotetag89" name="footnotetag89"></a><a href="#footnote89"><sup>89</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Samoan story of the shellfish, two torches, and death.</p>

<p>The Samoans tell how the gods held a council to decide what
was to be done with men. One of them said, "Bring men and
let them cast their skin; and when they die, let them be turned
to shellfish or to a coco-nut leaf torch, which when shaken
in the wind blazes out again."  But another god called
Palsy (<i>Supa</i>) rose up and said, "Bring men and let them be
like the candle-nut torch, which when it is once out cannot
be blown up again. Let the shellfish change their skin, but
let men die." While they were debating, a heavy rain came
on and broke up the meeting. As the gods ran for shelter
to their houses, they cried, "Let it be according to the
counsel of Palsy! Let it be according to the counsel of
Palsy!" So men died, but shellfish cast their skins.<a id="footnotetag90" name="footnotetag90"></a><a href="#footnote90"><sup>90</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">IV. The Banana Story. Poso story of immortality, the stone,
the banana, and death. Mentra story of immortality, the banana, and
death.</p>

<p>The last type of tales of the origin of death which I shall
notice is the one which I have called the Banana type. We
have already seen that according to the natives of Nias
human mortality is all due to eating bananas instead of crabs.<a id="footnotetag91" name="footnotetag91"></a><a href="#footnote91"><sup>91</sup></a>
A similar opinion is entertained by other people in that
region of the world. Thus the natives of Poso, a district of
Central Celebes, say that in the beginning the sky was very
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page73" id="page73"></a>[pg 73]</span>
near the earth, and that the Creator, who lived in it, used to
let down his good gifts to men at the end of a rope. One
day he thus lowered a stone; but our first father and mother
would have none of it and they called out to their Maker,
"What have we to do with this stone? Give us something
else." The Creator complied and hauled away at the rope;
the stone mounted up and up till it vanished from sight.
Presently the rope was seen coming down from heaven again,
and this time there was a banana at the end of it instead of
a stone. Our first parents ran at the banana and took it.
Then there came a voice from heaven, saying: "Because
ye have chosen the banana, your life shall be like its life.
When the banana-tree has offspring, the parent stem dies;
so shall ye die and your children shall step into your place.
Had ye chosen the stone, your life would have been like the
life of the stone changeless and immortal." The man and
his wife mourned over their fatal choice, but it was too late;
that is how through the eating of a banana death came into
the world.<a id="footnotetag92" name="footnotetag92"></a><a href="#footnote92"><sup>92</sup></a> The Mentras or Mantras, a shy tribe of savages
in the jungles of the Malay Peninsula, allege that in the
early days of the world men did not die, but only grew thin
at the waning of the moon and then waxed fat again as she
waxed to the full. Thus there was no check whatever on
the population, which increased to a truly alarming extent.
So a son of the first man brought this state of things to his
father's notice and asked him what was to be done. The
first man said, "Leave things as they are"; but his younger
brother, who took a more Malthusian view of the situation,
said, "No, let men die like the banana, leaving their offspring
behind." The question was submitted to the Lord of the
Underworld, and he decided in favour of death. Ever since
then men have ceased to renew their youth like the moon
and have died like the banana.<a id="footnotetag93" name="footnotetag93"></a><a href="#footnote93"><sup>93</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Primitive philosophy in the stories of the origin of death.</p>

<p>Thus the three stories of the origin of death which
I have called the Moon type, the Serpent type, and the
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page74" id="page74"></a>[pg 74]</span>
Banana type appear to be products of a primitive philosophy
which sees a cheerful emblem of immortality in
the waxing and waning moon and in the cast skins of
serpents, but a sad emblem of mortality in the banana-tree,
which perishes as soon as it has produced its fruit. But, as
I have already said, these types of stories do not exhaust
the theories or fancies of primitive man on the question how
death came into the world.  I will conclude this part of my
subject with some myths which do not fall under any of the
preceding heads.</p>

<p class="side">Bahnar story of immortality, the tree, and death. Rivalry for
the boon of immortality between men and animals that cast their skins,
such as serpents and lizards.</p>

<p>The Bahnars of eastern Cochinchina say that in the
beginning when people died they used to be buried at the
foot of a tree called L&ocirc;ng Bl&ocirc;, and that after a time they
always rose from the dead, not as infants but as full-grown
men and women. So the earth was peopled very fast, and
all the inhabitants formed but one great town under the
presidency of our first parents.  In time men multiplied to
such an extent that a certain lizard could not take his walks
abroad without somebody treading on his tail. This vexed
him, and the wily creature gave an insidious hint to the
gravediggers. "Why bury the dead at the foot of the L&ocirc;ng
Bl&ocirc; tree?" said he; "bury them at the foot of L&ocirc;ng Khung,
and they will not come to life again. Let them die outright
and be done with it." The hint was taken, and from that
day the dead have not come to life again.<a id="footnotetag94" name="footnotetag94"></a><a href="#footnote94"><sup>94</sup></a> In this story
there are several points to be noticed. In the first place the
tree L&ocirc;ng Bl&ocirc; would seem to have been a tree of life, since
all the dead who were buried at its foot came to life again.
In the second place the lizard is here, as in so many African
tales, the instrument of bringing death among men. Why
was that so? We may conjecture that the reason is that
the lizard like the serpent casts its skin periodically, from
which primitive man might infer, as he infers with regard to
serpents, that the creature renews its youth and lives for
ever. Thus all the myths which relate how a lizard or a
serpent became the maleficent agent of human mortality
may perhaps be referred to an old idea of a certain jealousy
and rivalry between men and all creatures which cast their
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page75" id="page75"></a>[pg 75]</span>
skin, notably serpents and lizards; we may suppose that in
all such cases a story was told of a contest between man and
his animal rivals for the possession of immortality, a contest
in which, whether by mistake or by guile, the victory always
remained with the animals, who thus became immortal, while
mankind was doomed to mortality.</p>

<p class="side">Chingpaw story of the origin of death. Australian story of
the tree, the bat, and death. Fijian story of the origin of death.</p>

<p>The Chingpaws of Upper Burma say that death
originated in a practical joke played by an old man who
pretended to be dead in the ancient days when nobody
really died. But the Lord of the Sun, who held the threads
of all human lives in his hand, detected the fraud and in
anger cut short the thread of life of the practical joker.
Since then everybody else has died; the door for death
to enter into the world was opened by the folly of that
silly, though humorous, old man.<a id="footnotetag95" name="footnotetag95"></a><a href="#footnote95"><sup>95</sup></a> The natives about the
Murray River in Australia used to relate how the first
man and woman were forbidden to go near a tree in
which a bat lived, lest they should disturb the creature.
One day, however, the woman was gathering firewood and
she went near the tree. The bat flew away, and after that
death came into the world.<a id="footnotetag96" name="footnotetag96"></a><a href="#footnote96"><sup>96</sup></a> Some of the Fijians accounted
for human mortality as follows. When the first man, the
father of the human race, was being buried, a god passed by
the grave and asked what it meant, for he had never seen a
grave before. On learning from the bystanders that they
had just buried their father, "Do not bury him," said he,
"dig the body up again." "No," said they, "we cannot do
that. He has been dead four days and stinks." "Not so,"
pleaded the god; "dig him up, and I promise you that he
will live again." Heedless of the divine promise, these
primitive sextons persisted in leaving their dead father in
the grave. Then said the god to these wicked men, "By
disobeying me you have sealed your own fate. Had you
dug up your ancestor, you would have found him alive, and
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page76" id="page76"></a>[pg 76]</span>
you yourselves, when you passed from this world, should have
been buried, as bananas are, for the space of four days, after
which you should have been dug up, not rotten, but ripe.
But now, as a punishment for your disobedience, you shall
die and rot." And still, when they hear this sad tale told,
the Fijians say, "O that those children had dug up that
body!"<a id="footnotetag97" name="footnotetag97"></a><a href="#footnote97"><sup>97</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Admiralty Islanders' stories of the origin of death.</p>

<p>The Admiralty Islanders tell various stories to explain
why man is mortal. One of them has already been related.
Here is another. A Souh man went once to catch fish.
A devil tried to devour him, but he fled into the forest
and took refuge in a tree. The tree kindly closed on him
so that the devil could not see him. When the devil was
gone, the tree opened up and the man clambered down
to the ground. Then said the tree to him, "Go to Souh
and bring me two white pigs." He went and found two
pigs, one was white and one was black. He took chalk and
chalked the black pig so that it was white. Then he
brought them to the tree, but on the way the chalk fell off
the black pig. And when the tree saw the white pig and
the black pig, he chid the man and said, "You are thankless.
I was good to you. An evil will overtake you; you will
die. The devil will fall upon you, and you will die." So it
has been with us as it was with the man of Souh. An evil
overtakes us or a spirit falls upon us, and we die. If it had
been as the tree said, we should not have died.<a id="footnotetag98" name="footnotetag98"></a><a href="#footnote98"><sup>98</sup></a> Another
story told by the Admiralty Islanders to account for the
melancholy truth of man's mortality runs thus. Kosi, the
chief of Moakareng, was in his house. He was hungry. He
said to his two sons, "Go and climb the breadfruit trees and
bring the fruit, that we may eat them together and not die."
But they would not. So he went himself and climbed the
breadfruit tree. But the north-west wind blew a storm, it
blew and threw him down. He fell and his body died, but
his ghost went home. He went and sat in his house. He
tied up his hair and he painted his face with red ochre.
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page77" id="page77"></a>[pg 77]</span>
Now his wife and his two sons had gone after him into the
wood. They went to fetch home the breadfruits. They
came and saw Kosi, and he was dead. The three returned
home, and there they saw the ghost of Kosi sitting in his
house. They said, "You there! Who's that dead at the
foot of the breadfruit tree? Kosi, he is dead at the foot
of the breadfruit tree." Kosi, he said, "Here am I. I did
not fall. Perhaps somebody else fell down. I did not.
Here I am." "You're a liar," said they. "I ain't," said he.
"Come," said they, "we'll go and see." They went. Kosi, he
jumped into his body. He died. They buried him. If his
wife had behaved well, we should not die. Our body would
die, but our ghost would go about always in the old home.<a id="footnotetag99" name="footnotetag99"></a><a href="#footnote99"><sup>99</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Stories of the origin of death: the fatal bundle or the fatal
box.</p>

<p>The Wemba of Northern Rhodesia relate how God
in the beginning created a man and a woman and gave
them two bundles; in one of them was life and in the other
death. Most unfortunately the man chose "the little bundle
of death."<a id="footnotetag100" name="footnotetag100"></a><a href="#footnote100"><sup>100</sup></a> The Cherokee Indians of North America say
that a number of beings were engaged in the work of
creation. The Sun was made first. Now the creators
intended that men should live for ever. But when the Sun
passed over them in the sky, he told the people that there
was not room enough for them all and that they had better
die. At last the Sun's own daughter, who was with the
people on earth, was bitten by a snake and died. Then the
Sun repented him and said that men might live always; and
he bade them take a box and go fetch his daughter's spirit in
the box and bring it to her body, that she might live. But
he charged them straitly not to open the box until they
arrived at the dead body. However, moved by curiosity,
they unhappily opened the box too soon; away flew the
spirit, and all men have died ever since.<a id="footnotetag101" name="footnotetag101"></a><a href="#footnote101"><sup>101</sup></a> Some of the
North American Indians informed the early Jesuit missionaries
that a certain man had received the gift of immortality
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page78" id="page78"></a>[pg 78]</span>
in a small packet from a famous magician named Messou,
who repaired the world after it had been seriously damaged
by a great flood. In bestowing on the man this valuable
gift the magician strictly enjoined him on no account to open
the packet. The man obeyed, and so long as the packet was
unopened he remained immortal. But his wife was both
curious and incredulous; she opened the packet to see what
was in it, the precious contents flew away, and mankind has
been subject to death ever since.<a id="footnotetag102" name="footnotetag102"></a><a href="#footnote102"><sup>102</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Baganda story how death came into the world through the
forgetfulness and imprudence of a woman.</p>

<p>As these American Indians tell how death came through
the curiosity and incredulity of one woman, the Baganda of
Central Africa relate how it came through the forgetfulness
and imprudence of another. According to the Baganda the
first man who came to earth in Uganda was named Kintu.
He brought with him one cow and lived on its milk, for he
had no other food. But in time a woman named Nambi, a
daughter of Gulu, the king of heaven, came down to earth
with her brother or sister, and seeing Kintu she fell in love
with him and wished to have him for her husband. But
her proud father doubted whether Kintu was worthy of his
daughter's hand, and accordingly he insisted on testing his
future son-in-law before he would consent to the marriage. So
he carried off Kintu's cow and put it among his own herds in
heaven. When Kintu found that the cow was stolen, he was
in a great rage, but hunger getting the better of anger, he
made shift to live by peeling the bark of trees and gathering
herbs and leaves, which he cooked and ate. In time his
future wife Nambi happened to spy the stolen cow among
her father's herds and she told Kintu, who came to heaven
to seek and recover the lost animal. His future father-in-law
Gulu, Lord of Heaven, obliged him to submit to many tests
designed to prove his fitness for marriage with the daughter
of so exalted a being as the Lord of Heaven. All these
tests Kintu successfully passed through. At last Gulu was
satisfied, gave him his daughter Nambi to wife, and allowed
him to return to earth with her.</p>

<p class="side">The coming of Death.</p>

<p>But Nambi had a brother and his name was Death
(<i>Walumbe</i>). So before the Lord of Heaven sent her
away with her husband he called them both to him
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page79" id="page79"></a>[pg 79]</span>
and said, "You must hurry away before Death comes, or
he will wish to go with you. You must not let him
do so, for he would only cause you trouble and unhappiness."
To this his daughter agreed, and she went to pack
up her things. She and her husband then took leave of the
Lord of Heaven, who gave them at parting a piece of advice.
"Be sure," said he, "if you have forgotten anything, not to
come back for it; because, if you do, Death will wish to go
with you, and you must go without him." So off they set,
the man and his wife, taking with them his cow and its
calves, also a sheep, a goat, a fowl, and a banana tree. But
on the way the woman remembered that she had forgotten
the grain to feed the fowl, so she said to her husband, "I
must go back for the grain to feed the fowl, or it will die."
Her husband tried to dissuade her, but in vain. She said,
"I will hurry back and get it without any one seeing me."
So back she went in an evil hour and said to her father the
Lord of Heaven, "I have forgotten the grain for the fowl
and I am come back to fetch it from the doorway where I
put it." Her father said sadly, "Did I not tell you that
you were not to return if you had forgotten anything,
because your brother Death would wish to go with you?
Now he will accompany you." The woman fled, but Death
saw her and followed hard after her. When she rejoined
her husband, he was angry, for he saw Death and said,
"Why have you brought your brother with you? Who can
live with him?"</p>

<p class="side">The importunity of Death.</p>

<p>When they reached the earth, Nambi planted her
garden, and the bananas sprang up quickly and formed a
grove. They lived happily for a time till one day Death
came and asked for one of their daughters, that she might go
away with him and be his cook. But the father said, "If the
Lord of Heaven comes and asks me for one of my children,
what am I to say? Shall I tell him that I have given her to
you to be your cook?" Death was silent and went away.
But he came back another day and asked again for a child
to be his cook. When the father again refused, Death said,
"I will kill your children." The father did not know what
that meant, so he asked Death, "What is that you will do?"
However, in a short time one of the children fell ill and
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page80" id="page80"></a>[pg 80]</span>
died, and then another and another. So the man went to
the Lord of Heaven and complained that Death was
taking away his children one by one. The Lord of Heaven
said, "Did I not tell you, when you were going away, to go
at once with your wife and not to return if you had forgotten
anything, but you let your wife return to fetch the
grain? Now you have Death living with you. If you had
obeyed me, you would have been free from him and not lost
any of your children."</p>

<p class="side">The hunt
for Death.</p>

<p>However, the man pleaded with him, and the Lord
Heaven at last consented to send Death's brother
Kaikuzi to help the woman and to prevent Death from
killing her children. So down came Kaikuzi to earth, and
when he met his brother Death they greeted each other
lovingly. Then Kaikuzi told Death that he had come to
fetch him away from earth to heaven. Death was willing
to go, but he said, "Let us take our sister too." "Nay," said
his brother, "that cannot be, for she is a wife and must
stay with her husband." The dispute waxed warm, Death
insisting on carrying off his sister, and his brother refusing
to allow him to do so. At last the brother angrily ordered
Death to do as he was bid, and so saying he made as
though he would seize him. But Death slipped from
between his hands and fled into the earth. For a long
time after that there was enmity between the two brothers.
Kaikuzi tried in every way to catch Death, but Death always
escaped. At last Kaikuzi told the people that he would
have one final hunt for Death, and while the hunt was
going on they must all stay in their houses; not a man,
a woman, a child, nor even an animal was to be allowed
to pass the threshold; and if they saw Death passing
the window, they were not to utter a cry of terror but
to keep still. Well, for some days his orders were obeyed.
Not a living soul, not an animal, stirred abroad. All
without was solitude, all within was silence. Encouraged
by the universal stillness Death emerged from his lair, and his
brother was just about to catch him, when some children,
who had ventured out to herd their goats, saw Death and
cried out. Death's good brother rushed to the spot and
asked them why they had cried out. They said, "Because
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page81" id="page81"></a>[pg 81]</span>
we saw Death." So his brother was angry because Death
had again made good his escape into the earth, and he went
to the first man and told him that he was weary of hunting
Death and wished to return home to heaven. The first man
thanked him kindly for all he had done, and said, "I fear
there is nothing more to be done. We must only hope that
Death will not kill all the people." It was a vain hope.
Since then Death has lived on earth and killed everybody
who is born into the world; and always, after the deed
of murder is done, he escapes into the earth at Tanda in
Singo.<a id="footnotetag103" name="footnotetag103"></a><a href="#footnote103"><sup>103</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">In the preceding story Death is distinctly personified. Death
personified in a West African story of the origin of death. Death and
the spider and the spider's daughter.</p>

<p>If this curious tale of the origin of death reveals no very
deep philosophy, it is at least interesting for the distinctness
with which Death is conceived as a personal being, the son
of the Lord of Heaven, the brother of the first man's wife.
In this personification of Death the story differs from all the
others which we have examined and marks an intellectual
advance upon them; since the power of picturing abstract
ideas to the mind with all the sharpness of outline and
vividness of colour which are implied by personification is a
faculty above the reach of very low intelligences. It is not
surprising that the Baganda should have attained to this
power, for they are probably the most highly cultured and
intellectual of all the many Bantu tribes of Africa. The
same conception of Death as a person occurs in a story of
the origin of death which is told by the Hos, a negro tribe
in Togoland, a district of West Africa. These Hos belong
to the Ewe-speaking family of the true negroes, who have
reached a comparatively high level of barbarism in the
notorious kingdom of Dahomey. The story which the Hos
tell as to the origin of death is as follows. Once upon a
time there was a great famine in which even the hunters
could find no flesh to eat. Then Death went and made
a road as broad as from here to Sokode, and there he set
many snares. Every animal that tried to pass that way
fell into a snare. So Death had much flesh to eat. One
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page82" id="page82"></a>[pg 82]</span>
day the Spider came to Death and said to him, "You have
so much meat!" and she asked if she might have some to
take home with her. Death gave her leave. So the Spider
made a basket as long as from Ho to Akoviewe (a distance
of about five miles), crammed it full of meat, and dragged it
home. In return for this bounty the Spider gave Death her
daughter Yiyisa to wife. So when Death had her for his
wife, he gave her a hint. He said, "Don't walk on the broad
road which I have made. Walk on the footpath which I
have not made. When you go to the water, be sure to
take none but the narrow way through the wood." Well,
some time afterwards it had rained a little; the grass was
wet, and Yiyisa wished to go to the watering-place. When
she tried to walk on the narrow path through the forest, the
tall damp grass wet her through and through, so she thought
to herself, "In future I will only go on the broad road." But
scarce had she set foot on the beautiful broad road when she
fell into a snare and died on the spot. When Death came
to the snare and saw his wife in it dead, he cut her up into
bits and toasted them on the fire. One day the Spider
paid a visit to her son-in-law Death, and he set a good meal
before her. When she had eaten and drunk her fill and
had got up to go home, she asked Death after her daughter.
"If you take that meat from the fire," said Death, "you will
see her." So the Spider took the flesh from the fire and
there, sure enough, she found her dead daughter. Then
she went home in great wrath and whetted her knife till it
was so sharp that a fly lighting on the edge was cut in two.
With that knife she came back to attack Death. But Death
shot an arrow at her. She dodged it, and the arrow whizzed
past her and set all the forest on fire. Then the Spider
flung her sharp knife at Death, but it missed him and only
sliced off the tops of the palms and all the other trees of
the wood. Seeing that her stroke had failed, the Spider
fled away home and shut herself up in her house. But
Death waited for her on the edge of the town to kill her
as soon as she ventured out. Next morning some women
came out of the town to draw water at the watering-place,
and as they went they talked with one another. But Death
shot an arrow among them and killed several. The rest
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page83" id="page83"></a>[pg 83]</span>
ran away home and said, "So and so is dead." Then
Death came and looked at the bodies and said, "That
is my game. I need go no more into the wood to hunt."
That is how Death came into the world. If the Spider
had not done what she did, nobody would ever have
died.<a id="footnotetag104" name="footnotetag104"></a><a href="#footnote104"><sup>104</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Death personified in a Melanesian story of the origin of
death.</p>

<p>Again, the Melanesians of the Banks Islands tell a
story of the origin of Death, in which that grim power is
personified. They say that Death (<i>Mate</i>) used to live
underground in a shadowy realm called Panoi, while men
on earth changed their skins like serpents and so renewing
their youth lived for ever. But a practical inconvenience of
immortality was that property never changed hands; newcomers
had no chance, everything was monopolised by the
old, old stagers. To remedy this state of things and secure
a more equitable distribution of property Death was induced
to emerge from the lower world and to appear on earth
among men; he came relying on an assurance that no
harm would be done him. Well, when they had him, they
laid him out on a board, covered him with a pall as if he
were a corpse, and then proceeded with great gusto to
divide his property and eat the funeral feast. On the fifth
day they blew the conch shell to drive away the ghost, as
usual, and lifted the pall to see what had become of Death.
But there was no Death there; he had absconded leaving only
his skeleton behind. They naturally feared that he had made
off with an intention to return to his home underground,
which would have been a great calamity; for if there were no
Death on earth, how could men die and how could other
people inherit their property? The idea was intolerable;
so to cut off the retreat of the fugitive, the Fool was set
to do sentinel duty at the parting of the ways, where one
road leads down to the underworld, Death's home, and the
other leads up to the upper world, the abode of the living.
Here accordingly the Fool was stationed with strict orders
to keep his eye on Death if he should attempt to sneak past
him and return to the nether world. However, the Fool,
like a fool as he was, sat watching the road to the upper
world, and Death slipped behind him and so made good his
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page84" id="page84"></a>[pg 84]</span>
retreat. Since then all men have followed Death down that
fatal path.<a id="footnotetag105" name="footnotetag105"></a><a href="#footnote105"><sup>105</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Thus according to savages death is not a necessary part of
the order of nature. A similar view is held by some eminent modern
biologists.</p>

<p>So much for savage stories of the origin of death. They
all imply a belief that death is not a necessary part of the
order of nature, but that it originated in a pure mistake or
misdeed of some sort on somebody's part, and that we should
all have lived happy and immortal if it had not been for that
disastrous blunder or crime. Thus the tales reflect the same
frame of mind which I illustrated in the last lecture, when I
shewed that many savages still to this day believe all men
to be naturally immortal and death to be nothing but an
effect of sorcery. In short, whether we regard the savage's
attitude to death at the present day or his ideas as to its
origin in the remote past, we must conclude that primitive
man cannot reconcile himself to the notion of death as a
natural and necessary event; he persists in regarding it as
an accidental and unnecessary disturbance of the proper
order of nature. To a certain extent, perhaps, in these
crude speculations he has anticipated certain views of modern
biology. Thus it has been maintained by Professor August
Weissmann that death is not a natural necessity, that many
of the lowest species of living animals do in fact live for
ever; and that in the higher animals the custom of dying
has been introduced in the course of evolution for the
purpose of thinning the population and preventing the
degeneration of the species, which would otherwise follow
through the gradual and necessary deterioration of the
immortal individuals, who, though they could not die,
might yet sustain much bodily damage through hard
knocks in the hurly-burly of eternal existence on earth.</p>

<p class="side">Weissmann's view that death is not a natural necessity but an
adaptation acquired in the course of evolution for the advantage of the
race.</p>

<p>On this subject I will quote some sentences from Professor
Weissmann's essay on the duration of life. He
says, "The necessity of death has been hitherto explained
as due to causes which are inherent in organic nature,
and not to the fact that it may be advantageous. I do
not however believe in the validity of this explanation;
I consider that death is not a primary necessity, but that it
has been secondarily acquired as an adaptation. I believe
that life is endowed with a fixed duration, not because it is
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page85" id="page85"></a>[pg 85]</span>
contrary to its nature to be unlimited, but because the
unlimited existence of individuals would be a luxury without
any corresponding advantage. The above-mentioned hypothesis
upon the origin and necessity of death leads me to
believe that the organism did not finally cease to renew the
worn-out cell material because the nature of the cells did not
permit them to multiply indefinitely, but because the power
of multiplying indefinitely was lost when it ceased to be of
use.... John Hunter, supported by his experiments on
<i>anabiosis</i>, hoped to prolong the life of man indefinitely by
alternate freezing and thawing; and the Veronese Colonel
Aless. Guaguino made his contemporaries believe that a race
of men existed in Russia, of which the individuals died
regularly every year on the 27th of November, and returned
to life on the 24th of the following April. There cannot
however be the least doubt, that the higher organisms, as
they are now constructed, contain within themselves the
germs of death. The question however arises as to how
this has come to pass; and I reply that death is to be
looked upon as an occurrence which is advantageous to the
species as a concession to the outer conditions of life, and
not as an absolute necessity, essentially inherent in life itself.
Death, that is the end of life, is by no means, as is usually
assumed, an attribute of all organisms. An immense number
of low organisms do not die, although they are easily destroyed,
being killed by heat, poisons, etc. As long, however,
as those conditions which are necessary for their life
are fulfilled, they continue to live, and they thus carry the
potentiality of unending life in themselves. I am speaking
not only of the Amoebae and the low unicellular Algae, but
also of far more highly organized unicellular animals, such
as the Infusoria."<a id="footnotetag106" name="footnotetag106"></a><a href="#footnote106"><sup>106</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Similar view expressed by Alfred Russel Wallace.</p>

<p>A similar suggestion that death is not a natural necessity
but an innovation introduced for the good of the breed, has
been made by our eminent English biologist, Mr. Alfred
Russel Wallace. He says: "If individuals did not die they
would soon multiply inordinately and would interfere with
each other's healthy existence. Food would become scarce,
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page86" id="page86"></a>[pg 86]</span>
and hence the larger individuals would probably decompose
or diminish in size. The deficiency of nourishment would
lead to parts of the organism not being renewed; they
would become fixed, and liable to more or less slow
decomposition as dead parts within a living body. The
smaller organisms would have a better chance of finding
food, the larger ones less chance. That one which gave
off several small portions to form each a new organism
would have a better chance of leaving descendants like
itself than one which divided equally or gave off a large
part of itself. Hence it would happen that those which
gave off very small portions would probably soon after
cease to maintain their own existence while they would
leave a numerous offspring. This state of things would be
in any case for the advantage of the race, and would therefore,
by natural selection, soon become established as the
regular course of things, and thus we have the origin of <i>old
age, decay, and death</i>; for it is evident that when one or more
individuals have provided a sufficient number of successors
they themselves, as consumers of nourishment in a constantly
increasing degree, are an injury to their successors. Natural
selection therefore weeds them out, and in many cases favours
such races as die almost immediately after they have left
successors. Many moths and other insects are in this
condition, living only to propagate their kind and then
immediately dying, some not even taking any food in the
perfect and reproductive state."<a id="footnotetag107" name="footnotetag107"></a><a href="#footnote107"><sup>107</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Savages and some men of science agree that death is not a
natural necessity.</p>

<p>Thus it appears that two of the most eminent biologists
of our time agree with savages in thinking that death is by
no means a natural necessity for all living beings. They
only differ from savages in this, that whereas savages look
upon death as the result of a deplorable accident, our men
of science regard it as a beneficent reform instituted by
nature as a means of adjusting the numbers of living beings
to the quantity of the food supply, and so tending to the
improvement and therefore on the whole to the happiness
of the species.</p>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote57" name="footnote57"></a><b>Footnote 57:</b><a href="#footnotetag57"> (return) </a><p> H. Callaway, <i>The Religious System of the Amazulu</i>,
Part i. pp. 1, 3 <i>sq.</i>, Part ii. p. 138; Rev. L. Grout,
<i>Zululand, or Life among the Zulu-Kafirs</i> (Philadelphia,
<span class="sc">N.D.</span>), pp. 148 <i>sq.</i>; Dudley Kidd, <i>The Essential
Kafir</i> (London, 1904), pp. 76 <i>sq.</i> Compare A. F. Gardiner,
<i>Narrative of a Journey to the Zoolu Country</i> (London, 1836), pp.
178 <i>sq.</i>, T. Arbousset et F. Daumas, <i>Relation d'un voyage
d'Exploration au Nord-Est de la Colonie du Cap de Bonne-Esp&eacute;rance</i>
(Paris, 1842), p. 472; Rev. J. Shooter, <i>The Kafirs of Natal and the
Zulu Country</i> (London, 1857), p. 159; W. H. I. Bleek, <i>Reynard the
Fox in South Africa</i> (London, 1864), p. 74; D. Leslie, <i>Among the
Zulus and Amatongas</i>, Second Edition (Edinburgh, 1875), p. 209; F.
Speckmann, <i>Die Hermannsburger Mission in Afrika</i> (Hermannsburg,
1876), p. 164.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote58" name="footnote58"></a><b>Footnote 58:</b><a href="#footnotetag58"> (return) </a><p> J. Chapman, <i>Travels in the Interior of South Africa</i>
(London, 1868), i. 47.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote59" name="footnote59"></a><b>Footnote 59:</b><a href="#footnotetag59"> (return) </a><p> E. Casalis, <i>The Basutos</i> (London, 1861), p. 242; E.
Jacottet, <i>The Treasury of Ba-suto Lore</i>, i. (Morija, Basutoland,
1908), pp. 46 <i>sqq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote60" name="footnote60"></a><b>Footnote 60:</b><a href="#footnotetag60"> (return) </a><p> H. A. Junod, <i>Les Ba-Ronga</i> Neuch&acirc;tel (1898), pp. 401
<i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote61" name="footnote61"></a><b>Footnote 61:</b><a href="#footnotetag61"> (return) </a><p> W. A. Elmslie, <i>Among the Wild Ngoni</i> (Edinburgh and
London, 1899), p. 70.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote62" name="footnote62"></a><b>Footnote 62:</b><a href="#footnotetag62"> (return) </a><p>H. A. Junod and W. A. Elmslie, <i>ll.cc.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote63" name="footnote63"></a><b>Footnote 63:</b><a href="#footnotetag63"> (return) </a><p> C. W. Hobley, <i>Ethnology of A-Kamba and other East African Tribes</i>
(Cambridge, 1910), pp. 107-109.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote64" name="footnote64"></a><b>Footnote 64:</b><a href="#footnotetag64"> (return) </a><p> Fr. M&uuml;ller, "Die Religionen Togos in Einzeldarstellungen,"
<i>Anthropos</i>, ii. (1907) p. 203. In a version of the story reported
from Calabar a sheep appears as the messenger of mortality, while a dog
is the messenger of immortality or rather of resurrection. See "Calabar
Stories," <i>Journal of the African Society</i>, No. 18 (January 1906),
p. 194.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote65" name="footnote65"></a><b>Footnote 65:</b><a href="#footnotetag65"> (return) </a><p> E. Perregaux, <i>Chez les Achanti</i>
(Neuch&acirc;tel, 1906), pp. 198 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote66" name="footnote66"></a><b>Footnote 66:</b><a href="#footnotetag66"> (return) </a><p>E. Perregaux, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 199.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote67" name="footnote67"></a><b>Footnote 67:</b><a href="#footnotetag67"> (return) </a><p> Sir J. E. Alexander, <i>Expedition of Discovery into the
Interior of Africa</i> (London, 1838), i. 169; C. J. Andersson, <i>Lake
Ngami</i>, Second Edition (London, 1856), pp. 328 <i>sq.</i>; W. H. I.
Bleek, <i>Reynard the Fox in South Africa</i> (London, 1864), pp. 71-73;
Th. Hahn, <i>Tsuni-Goam, the Supreme Being of the Khoi-Khoi</i>
(London, 1881), p. 52.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote68" name="footnote68"></a><b>Footnote 68:</b><a href="#footnotetag68"> (return) </a><p> W. H. I. Bleek, <i>A Brief Account of Bushman
Folk-lore</i> (London, 1875), pp. 9 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote69" name="footnote69"></a><b>Footnote 69:</b><a href="#footnotetag69"> (return) </a><p> W. H. I. Bleek, <i>Reynard the Fox in South Africa</i>,
pp. 69 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote70" name="footnote70"></a><b>Footnote 70:</b><a href="#footnotetag70"> (return) </a><p> A. C. Hollis, <i>The Masai</i> (Oxford,
1905), pp. 271 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote71" name="footnote71"></a><b>Footnote 71:</b><a href="#footnotetag71"> (return) </a><p> A. C. Hollis, <i>The Nandi</i> (Oxford,
1909), p. 98.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote72" name="footnote72"></a><b>Footnote 72:</b><a href="#footnotetag72"> (return) </a><p> Captain W. E. H. Barrett, "Notes
on the Customs and Beliefs of the Wa-Giriama,
etc., British East Africa,"
<i>Journal of the R. Anthropological Institute</i>,
xli. (1911) p. 37.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote73" name="footnote73"></a><b>Footnote 73:</b><a href="#footnotetag73"> (return) </a><p> Th. Williams, <i>Fiji and the Fijians</i>,
Second Edition (London, 1860), i.
205.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote74" name="footnote74"></a><b>Footnote 74:</b><a href="#footnotetag74"> (return) </a><p> <i>Lettres &Eacute;difiantes et Curieuses</i>,
Nouvelle &Eacute;dition, xv. (Paris, 1781)
pp. 305 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote75" name="footnote75"></a><b>Footnote 75:</b><a href="#footnotetag75"> (return) </a><p> A. W. Howitt, <i>Native Tribes of
South-East Australia</i> (London, 1904),
pp. 428 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote76" name="footnote76"></a><b>Footnote 76:</b><a href="#footnotetag76"> (return) </a><p> Antoine Cabaton, <i>Nouvelles Recherches
sur les Chams</i> (Paris, 1901),
pp. 18 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote77" name="footnote77"></a><b>Footnote 77:</b><a href="#footnotetag77"> (return) </a><p> Baldwin Spencer and F. J. Gillen,
<i>Northern Tribes of Central Australia</i>
(London, 1904), pp. 513 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote78" name="footnote78"></a><b>Footnote 78:</b><a href="#footnotetag78"> (return) </a><p> Father G. Boscana, "Chinigchinich,"
in <i>Life in California, by an
American</i> [A. Robinson] (New York,
1846), pp. 298 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote79" name="footnote79"></a><b>Footnote 79:</b><a href="#footnotetag79"> (return) </a><p> Merolla, "Voyage to Congo," in
J. Pinkerton's <i>Voyages and Travels</i>, xvi.
(London, 1814) p. 273.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote80" name="footnote80"></a><b>Footnote 80:</b><a href="#footnotetag80"> (return) </a><p> P. A. Kleintitschen, <i>Die K&uuml;stenbewohner der
Gazellehalbinsel</i> (Hiltrup bei M&uuml;nster, <span class="sc">N.D.</span>), p. 334.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote81" name="footnote81"></a><b>Footnote 81:</b><a href="#footnotetag81"> (return) </a><p> A. Landes, "Contes et L&eacute;gendes Annamites," <i>Cochinchine
fran&ccedil;aise, Excursions et Reconnaissances</i>, No. 25 (Saigon, 1886), pp.
108 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote82" name="footnote82"></a><b>Footnote 82:</b><a href="#footnotetag82"> (return) </a><p> Otto Meyer, "Mythen und Erz&auml;hlungen von der Insel Vuatom
(Bismarck-Archipel, S&uuml;dsee)," <i>Anthropos</i>, v. (1910) p. 724.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote83" name="footnote83"></a><b>Footnote 83:</b><a href="#footnotetag83"> (return) </a><p> H. Sundermann, "Die Insel Nias und die Mission daselbst,"
<i>Allgemeine Missions-Zeitschrift</i>, xi. (1884) p. 451; E.
Modigliani, <i>Un Viaggio a N&iacute;as</i> (Milan, 1890), p. 295.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote84" name="footnote84"></a><b>Footnote 84:</b><a href="#footnotetag84"> (return) </a><p> R. Schomburgk, <i>Reisen in Britisch-Guiana</i> (Leipsig,
1847-1848), ii. 319.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote85" name="footnote85"></a><b>Footnote 85:</b><a href="#footnotetag85"> (return) </a><p>R. Schomburgk, <i>op. cit.</i> ii. 320.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote86" name="footnote86"></a><b>Footnote 86:</b><a href="#footnotetag86"> (return) </a><p> R. H. Codrington, <i>The Melanesians</i> (Oxford, 1891),
p. 265; W. Gray, "Some Notes on the Tannese," <i>Internationales Archiv
f&uuml;r Ethnographie</i>, vii. (1894) p. 232.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote87" name="footnote87"></a><b>Footnote 87:</b><a href="#footnotetag87"> (return) </a><p> C. Ribbe, <i>Zwei Jahre unter den Kannibalen der
Salomo-Inseln</i> (Dresden-Blasowitz, 1903), p. 148.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote88" name="footnote88"></a><b>Footnote 88:</b><a href="#footnotetag88"> (return) </a><p> Ch. Keysser, "Aus dem Leben der Kaileute," in R.
Neuhauss's <i>Deutsch Neu-Guinea</i> (Berlin, 1911), iii. 161
<i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote89" name="footnote89"></a><b>Footnote 89:</b><a href="#footnotetag89"> (return) </a><p> Josef Meier, "Mythen und Sagen der Admiralit&auml;tsinsulaner,"
<i>Anthropos</i>, iii. (1908) p. 193.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote90" name="footnote90"></a><b>Footnote 90:</b><a href="#footnotetag90"> (return) </a><p> George Brown, D.D., <i>Melanesians and Polynesians</i>
(London, 1910), p. 365; George Turner, LL.D., <i>Samoa</i> (London,
1884), pp. 8 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote91" name="footnote91"></a><b>Footnote 91:</b><a href="#footnotetag91"> (return) </a><p>See above, p. 70.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote92" name="footnote92"></a><b>Footnote 92:</b><a href="#footnotetag92"> (return) </a><p> A. C. Kruijt, "De legenden der Poso-Alfoeren aangaande de
erste menschen," <i>Mededeelingen van wege het Nederlandsche
Zendelinggenootschap</i>, xxxviii. (1894) p. 340.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote93" name="footnote93"></a><b>Footnote 93:</b><a href="#footnotetag93"> (return) </a><p> D. F. A. Hervey, "The M&ecirc;ntra Traditions," <i>Journal of
the Straits Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society</i>, No. 10 (December
1882), p. 190; W. W. Skeat and C. O. Blagden, <i>Pagan Races of the
Malay Peninsula</i> (London, 1906), ii. 337 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote94" name="footnote94"></a><b>Footnote 94:</b><a href="#footnotetag94"> (return) </a><p>Guerlach, "M&oelig;urs et Superstitions des sauvages Ba-hnars," <i>Missions
Catholiques</i>, xix. (1887) p. 479.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote95" name="footnote95"></a><b>Footnote 95:</b><a href="#footnotetag95"> (return) </a><p> (Sir) J. G. Scott and J. P. Hardiman, <i>Gazetteer of
Upper Burma and the Shan States</i>, Part i. vol. i. (Rangoon, 1900) pp.
408 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote96" name="footnote96"></a><b>Footnote 96:</b><a href="#footnotetag96"> (return) </a><p> R. Brough Smyth, <i>The Aborigines of Victoria</i>
(Melbourne and London, 1878), i. 428. On this narrative the author
remarks: "This story appears to bear too close a resemblance to the
Biblical account of the Fall. Is it genuine or not? Mr. Bulmer admits
that it may have been invented by the aborigines after they had heard
something of Scripture history."</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote97" name="footnote97"></a><b>Footnote 97:</b><a href="#footnotetag97"> (return) </a><p> Th. Williams, <i>Fiji and the Fijians</i>, Second Edition
(London, 1860), i. 204 <i>sq.</i> For another Fijian story of the origin
of death, see above, p. 67.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote98" name="footnote98"></a><b>Footnote 98:</b><a href="#footnotetag98"> (return) </a><p> Josef Meier, "Mythen und Sagen der Admiralit&auml;tsinsulaner,"
<i>Anthropos</i>, iii. (1908) p. 194.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote99" name="footnote99"></a><b>Footnote 99:</b><a href="#footnotetag99"> (return) </a><p>Josef Meier, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 194 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote100" name="footnote100"></a><b>Footnote 100:</b><a href="#footnotetag100"> (return) </a><p> C. Gouldsbury and H. Sheane, <i>The Great Plateau of
Northern Rhodesia</i> (London, 1911), pp. 80 <i>sq.</i> A like tale is
told by the Balolo of the Upper Congo. See <i>Folk-lore</i>, xii. (1901)
p. 461; and below, p. 472.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote101" name="footnote101"></a><b>Footnote 101:</b><a href="#footnotetag101"> (return) </a><p> J. Mooney, "Myths of the Cherokee," <i>Nineteenth Annual
Report of the Bureau of American Ethnology</i>, Part i. (Washington,
1900) p. 436, quoting "the Payne manuscript, of date about 1835."
Compare <i>id.</i>, pp. 252-254, 436 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote102" name="footnote102"></a><b>Footnote 102:</b><a href="#footnotetag102"> (return) </a><p> <i>Relations des J&eacute;suites</i>, 1634, p. 13 (Canadian
reprint, Quebec, 1858).</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote103" name="footnote103"></a><b>Footnote 103:</b><a href="#footnotetag103"> (return) </a><p> Sir Harry Johnston, <i>The Uganda Protectorate</i>
(London, 1904), ii. 700-705 (the story was taken down by Mr. J. F.
Cunningham); Rev. J. Roscoe, <i>The Baganda</i> (London, 1911), pp.
460-464. The story is briefly told by Mr. L. Decle, <i>Three Years in
Savage Africa</i> (London, 1898), pp. 439 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote104" name="footnote104"></a><b>Footnote 104:</b><a href="#footnotetag104"> (return) </a><p>J. Spieth, <i>Die Ewe-St&auml;mme</i> (Berlin, 1906), pp. 590-593.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote105" name="footnote105"></a><b>Footnote 105:</b><a href="#footnotetag105"> (return) </a><p> R. H. Codrington, <i>The Melanesians</i> (Oxford, 1891),
pp. 265 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote106" name="footnote106"></a><b>Footnote 106:</b><a href="#footnotetag106"> (return) </a><p> A. Weissmann, <i>Essays upon Heredity and Kindred
Biological Problems</i>, vol. i. (Oxford, 1891) pp. 25 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote107" name="footnote107"></a><b>Footnote 107:</b><a href="#footnotetag107"> (return) </a><p> A. R. Wallace, quoted in A. Weissmann's <i>Essays upon
Heredity</i>, i. (Oxford, 1891) p. 24 note.</p></blockquote>

<span class="pagenum"><a name="page87" id="page87"></a>[pg 87]</span>





<h2><a name="lecture-iv" id="lecture-iv"></a>LECTURE IV</h2>

<h3>THE BELIEF IN IMMORTALITY AMONG THE
ABORIGINES OF CENTRAL AUSTRALIA</h3>


<p class="side">Proposed survey of the belief in immortality and the worship
of the dead, as these are found among the various races of men,
beginning with the lowest savages.</p>

<p>In previous lectures we have considered the ideas which
savages in general entertain of death and its origin. To-day
we begin our survey of the beliefs and practices of particular
races in regard to the dead. I propose to deal separately
with some of the principal races of men and to shew in
detail how the belief in human immortality and the worship
of the dead, to which that belief naturally gives rise, have
formed a more or less important element of their religion.
And in order to trace as far as possible the evolution of that
worship in history I shall begin with the lowest savages
about whom we possess accurate information, and shall
pass from them to higher races until, if time permitted, we
might come to the civilised nations of antiquity and of
modern times. In this way, by comparing the ideas and
practices of peoples on different planes of culture we may
be able approximately to reconstruct or represent to ourselves
with a fair degree of probability the various stages
through which this particular phase of religion may
be supposed to have passed in the great civilised races
before the dawn of history. Of course all such reconstructions
must be more or less conjectural. In the
absence of historical documents that is inevitable; but our
reconstruction will be more or less probable according to the
degree in which the corresponding stages of evolution are
found to resemble or differ from each other in the various
races of men. If we find that tribes at approximately the
same level of culture in different parts of the world have
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page88" id="page88"></a>[pg 88]</span>
approximately the same religion, we may fairly infer that
religion is in a sense a function of culture, and therefore that
all races which have traversed the same stages of culture in
the past have traversed also the same stages of religion; in
short that, allowing for many minor variations, which flow
inevitably from varying circumstances such as climate, soil,
racial temperament, and so forth, the course of religious
development has on the whole been uniform among mankind.
This enquiry may be called the embryology of
religion, in as much as it seeks to do for the development
of religion what embryology in the strict sense of the word
attempts to do for the development of life. And just as
biology or the science of life naturally begins with the study
of the lowest sorts of living beings, the humble protozoa, so
we shall begin our enquiry with a study of the lowest
savages of whom we possess a comparatively full and
accurate record, namely, the aborigines of Australia.</p>

<p class="side">Savagery a case not of degeneracy but of arrested or rather
retarded development.</p>

<p>At the outset I would ask you to bear in mind that, so
far as evidence allows us to judge, savagery in all its
phases appears to be nothing but a case of arrested or rather
retarded development. The old view that savages have
degenerated from a higher level of culture, on which their
forefathers once stood, is destitute alike of evidence and of
probability. On the contrary, the information which we
possess as to the lower races, meagre and fragmentary as
it unfortunately is, all seems to point to the conclusion that
on the whole even the most savage tribes have reached their
low level of culture from one still lower, and that the upward
movement, though so slow as to be almost imperceptible, has
yet been real and steady up to the point where savagery has
come into contact with civilisation. The moment of such
contact is a critical one for the savages. If the intellectual,
moral, and social interval which divides them from the
civilised intruders exceeds a certain degree, then it appears
that sooner or later the savages must inevitably perish; the
shock of collision with a stronger race is too violent to be
withstood, the weaker goes to the wall and is shattered.
But if on the other hand the breach between the two
conflicting races is not so wide as to be impassable, there
is a hope that the weaker may assimilate enough of the
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page89" id="page89"></a>[pg 89]</span>
higher culture of the other to survive. It was so, for
example, with our barbarous forefathers in contact with the
ancient civilisations of Greece and Rome; and it may be so
in future with some, for example, of the black races of the
present day in contact with European civilisation. Time
will shew. But among the savages who cannot permanently
survive the shock of collision with Europe may certainly be
numbered the aborigines of Australia. They are rapidly
dwindling and wasting away, and before very many years
have passed it is probable that they will be extinct like
the Tasmanians, who, so far as we can judge from the
miserably imperfect records of them which we possess,
appear to have been savages of an even lower type than
the Australians, and therefore to have been still less able
to survive in the struggle for existence with their vigorous
European rivals.</p>

<p class="side">Physical causes which have retarded progress in Australia.</p>

<p>The causes which have retarded progress in Australia
and kept the aboriginal population at the lowest level of
savagery appear to be mainly two; namely, first, the geographical
isolation and comparatively small area of the
continent, and, second, the barren and indeed desert nature
of a great part of its surface; for the combined effect of
these causes has been, by excluding foreign competitors
and seriously restricting the number of competitors at home,
to abate the rigour of competition and thereby to restrain
the action of one of the most powerful influences which make
for progress. In other words, elements of weakness have
been allowed to linger on, which under the sterner conditions
of life entailed by fierce competition would long ago have
been eliminated and have made way for elements better
adapted to the environment. What is true of the human
inhabitants of Australia in this respect is true also of its
fauna and flora. It has long been recognised that the
animals and plants of Australia represent on the whole
more archaic types of life than the animals and plants of
the larger continents; and the reason why these antiquated
creatures have survived there rather than elsewhere is mainly
that, the area of competition being so much restricted through
the causes I have mentioned, these comparatively weak forms
of animal and vegetable life have not been killed off by
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page90" id="page90"></a>[pg 90]</span>
stronger competitors. That this is the real cause appears to
be proved by the rapidity with which many animals and
plants introduced into Australia from Europe tend to overrun
the country and to oust the old native fauna and flora.<a id="footnotetag108" name="footnotetag108"></a><a href="#footnote108"><sup>108</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">In the centre of Australia the natural conditions of life are
most unfavourable; hence the central aborigines have remained in a more
primitive state than those of the coasts, where food and water are more
plentiful.</p>

<p>I have said that among the causes which have kept the
aborigines of Australia at a very low level of savagery must
be reckoned the desert nature of a great part of the country.
Now it is the interior of the continent which is the most arid,
waste, and barren. The coasts are comparatively fertile, for
they are watered by showers condensed from an atmosphere
which is charged with moisture by the neighbouring sea; and
this condensation is greatly facilitated in the south-eastern
and eastern parts of the continent by a high range of
mountains which here skirts the coast for a long distance,
attracting the moisture from the ocean and precipitating it
in the form of snow and rain. Thus the vegetation and
hence the supply of food both animal and vegetable in
these well-watered portions of the continent are varied
and plentiful. In striking contrast with the fertility and
abundance of these favoured regions are the stony plains
and bare rocky ranges of the interior, where water is scarce,
vegetation scanty, and animal life at certain seasons of the
year can only with difficulty be maintained. It would be no
wonder if the natives of these arid sun-scorched wildernesses
should have lagged behind even their savage brethren of the
coasts in respect of material and social progress; and in fact
there are many indications that they have done so, in other
words, that the aborigines of the more fertile districts near
the sea have made a greater advance towards civilisation
than the tribes of the desert interior. This is the view of
men who have studied the Australian savages most deeply
at first hand, and, so far as I can judge of the matter without
any such first-hand acquaintance, I entirely agree with their
opinion. I have given my reasons elsewhere and shall not
repeat them here. All that I wish to impress on you now
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page91" id="page91"></a>[pg 91]</span>
is that in aboriginal Australia a movement of social and
intellectual progress, slow but perceptible, appears to have
been setting from the coast inwards, and that, so far as
such things can be referred to physical causes, this particular
movement in Australia would seem to have been initiated
by the sea acting through an abundant rainfall and a consequent
abundant supply of food.<a id="footnotetag109" name="footnotetag109"></a><a href="#footnote109"><sup>109</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Backward state of the Central Australian aborigines. They
have no idea of a moral supreme being.</p>

<p>Accordingly, in attempting to give you some account
of the belief in immortality and the worship of the dead
among the various races of mankind, I propose to begin
with the natives of Central Australia, first, because the
Australian aborigines are the most primitive savages about
whom we have full and accurate information, and, second,
because among these primitive savages the inhabitants
of the central deserts are on the whole the most primitive.
Like their brethren in the rest of the continent
they were in their native condition absolutely ignorant of
metals and of agriculture; they had no domestic animals
except the dog, and they subsisted wholly by the products
of the chase and the natural fruits, roots, and seeds, which
the ground yielded without cultivation of any sort. In
regard to their intellectual outlook upon the world, they
were deeply imbued, as I shewed in a former lecture, with
a belief in magic, but it can hardly be said that they possessed
any religion in the strict sense of the word, by which
I mean a propitiation of real or imaginary powers regarded
as personal beings superior to man: certainly the
Australian aborigines appear to have believed in no beings
who deserve to be called gods. On this subject Messrs.
Spencer and Gillen, our best authorities on these tribes,
observe as follows: "The Central Australian natives&mdash;and
this is true of the tribes extending from Lake Eyre
in the south to the far north and eastwards across to
the Gulf of Carpentaria&mdash;have no idea whatever of the
existence of any supreme being who is pleased if they
follow a certain line of what we call moral conduct and
displeased if they do not do so. They have not the
vaguest idea of a personal individual other than an actual
living member of the tribe who approves or disapproves of
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page92" id="page92"></a>[pg 92]</span>
their conduct, so far as anything like what we call morality
is concerned. Any such idea as that of a future life of
happiness or the reverse, as a reward for meritorious or as a
punishment for blameworthy conduct, is quite foreign to
them.... We know of no tribe in which there is a belief
of any kind in a supreme being who rewards or punishes
the individual according to his moral behaviour, using the
word moral in the native sense."<a id="footnotetag110" name="footnotetag110"></a><a href="#footnote110"><sup>110</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Central Australian theory that the souls of the dead survive
and are afterwards reborn as infants.</p>

<p>But if the aborigines of Central Australia have no
religion properly so called, they entertain beliefs and they
observe practices out of which under favourable circumstances
a religion might have been developed, if its evolution
had not been arrested by the advent of Europeans. Among
these elements of natural religion one of the most important
is the theory which these savages hold as to the existence
and nature of the dead. That theory is a very remarkable
one. With a single exception, which I shall
mention presently, they unanimously believe that death
is not the end of all things for the individual, but that
the human personality survives, apparently with little
change, in the form of a spirit, which may afterwards be
reborn as a child into the world. In fact they think that
every living person without exception is the reincarnation
of a dead person who lived on earth a longer or shorter
time ago. This belief is held universally by the tribes
which occupy an immense area of Australia from the centre
northwards to the Gulf of Carpentaria.<a id="footnotetag111" name="footnotetag111"></a><a href="#footnote111"><sup>111</sup></a> The single exception
to which I have referred is furnished by the Gnanji, a
fierce and wild-looking tribe who eat their dead enemies
and perhaps also their dead friends.<a id="footnotetag112" name="footnotetag112"></a><a href="#footnote112"><sup>112</sup></a> These savages deny
that women have spirits which live after death; when a
woman dies, that, they say, is the end of her. On the
other hand, the spirit of a dead man, in their opinion,
survives and goes to and fro on the earth visiting the places
where his forefathers camped in days of old and destined to
be born again of a woman at some future time, when the
rains have fallen and bleached his bones.<a id="footnotetag113" name="footnotetag113"></a><a href="#footnote113"><sup>113</sup></a> But why these
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page93" id="page93"></a>[pg 93]</span>
primitive philosophers should deny the privilege of immortality
to women and reserve it exclusively for men, is
not manifest. All other Central Australian tribes appear
to admit the rights of women equally with the rights of
men in a life beyond the grave.</p>

<p class="side">Central Australian theory as to the state of the dead.
Certain conspicuous features of the landscape supposed to be tenanted by
the souls of the dead waiting to be born again.</p>

<p>With regard to the state of the souls of the dead in the
intervals between their successive reincarnations, the opinions
of the Central Australian savages are clear and definite.
Most civilised races who believe in the immortality of
the soul have found themselves compelled to confess
that, however immortal the spirits of the departed may
be, they do not present themselves commonly to our eyes
or ears, nor meddle much with the affairs of the living;
hence the survivors have for the most part inferred that the
dead do not hover invisible in our midst, but that they
dwell somewhere, far away, in the height of heaven, or in
the depth of earth, or in Islands of the Blest beyond the
sea where the sun goes down.  Not so with the simple
aborigines of Australia. They imagine that the spirits of
the dead continue to haunt their native land and especially
certain striking natural features of the landscape, it may be
a pool of water in a deep gorge of the barren hills, or a
solitary tree in the sun-baked plains, or a great rock that
affords a welcome shade in the sultry noon. Such spots
are thought to be tenanted by the souls of the departed
waiting to be born again. There they lurk, constantly on
the look-out for passing women into whom they may enter,
and from whom in due time they may be born as infants.
It matters not whether the woman be married or unmarried,
a matron or a maid, a blooming girl or a withered hag:
any woman may conceive directly by the entrance into her
of one of these disembodied spirits; but the natives have
shrewdly observed that the spirits shew a decided preference
for plump young women. Hence when such a damsel is
passing near a plot of haunted ground, if she does not
wish to become a mother, she will disguise herself as an
aged crone and hobble past, saying in a thin cracked
voice, "Don't come to me. I am an old woman." Such
spots are often stones, which the natives call child-stones
because the souls of the dead are there lying in wait for
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page94" id="page94"></a>[pg 94]</span>
women in order to be born as children. One such stone,
for example, may be seen in the land of the Arunta tribe
near Alice Springs. It projects to a height of three feet
from the ground among the mulga scrub, and there is a
round hole in it through which the souls of dead plum-tree
people are constantly peeping, ready to pounce out on a
likely damsel. Again, in the territory of the Warramunga
tribe the ghosts of black-snake people are supposed to
gather in the rocks round certain pools or in the gum-trees
which border the generally dry bed of a water-course. No
Warramunga woman would dare to strike one of these trees
with an axe, because she is firmly convinced that in doing
so she would set free one of the lurking black-snake spirits,
who would immediately dart into her body. They think
that the spirits are no larger than grains of sand and that
they make their way into women through the navel. Nor
is it merely by direct contact with one of these repositories
of souls, nor yet by passing near it, that women may be
gotten with child against their wish. The Arunta believe
that any malicious man may by magic cause a woman or
even a child to become a mother: he has only to go to one
of the child-stones and rub it with his hands, muttering the
words, "Plenty of young women. You look and go
quickly."<a id="footnotetag114" name="footnotetag114"></a><a href="#footnote114"><sup>114</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">As a rule, only the souls of persons of one particular
totemic clan are thought to congregate in one place.</p>

<p>A remarkable feature in these gathering-places of the
dead remains to be noticed. The society at each of them
is very select. The ghosts are very clannish; as a rule none
but people of one particular totemic clan are supposed to for-gather
at any one place. For example, we have just seen that
in the Arunta tribe the souls of dead people of the plum-tree
totem congregate at a certain stone in the mulga scrub, and
that in the Warramunga tribe the spirits of deceased persons
who had black snakes for their totem haunt certain gum-trees.
The same thing applies to most of the other haunts
of the dead in Central Australia. Whether the totem was a
kangaroo or an emu, a rat or a bat, a hawk or a cockatoo,
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page95" id="page95"></a>[pg 95]</span>
a bee or a fly, a yam or a grass seed, the sun or the moon,
fire or water, lightning or the wind, it matters not what the
totem was, only the ghosts of people of one totemic clan meet
for the most part in one place; thus one rock will be
tenanted by the spirits of kangaroo folk only, and another
by spirits of emu folk only; one water-pool will be the
home of dead rat people alone, and another the haunt of
none but dead bat people; and so on with most of the
other abodes of the souls. However, in the Urabunna tribe
the ghosts are not so exclusive; some of them consent to
share their abode with people of other totems. For example,
a certain pool of water is haunted by the spirits of folk who
in their lifetime had for their totems respectively the emu,
rain, and a certain grub. On the other hand a group of
granite boulders is inhabited only by the souls of persons
of the pigeon totem.<a id="footnotetag115" name="footnotetag115"></a><a href="#footnote115"><sup>115</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Totemism defined.</p>

<p>Perhaps for the sake of some of my hearers I should
say a word as to the meaning of totems and totemism.
The subject is a large one and is still under discussion. For
our present purpose it is not necessary that I should enter
into details; I will therefore only say that a totem is
commonly a class of natural objects, usually a species of
animals or plants, with which a savage identifies himself
in a curious way, imagining that he himself and his kinsfolk
are for all practical purposes kangaroos or emus, rats or
bats, hawks or cockatoos, yams or grass-seed, and so on,
according to the particular class of natural objects which
he claims as his totem. The origin of this remarkable
identification of men with animals, plants, or other
things is still much debated; my own view is that
the key to the mystery is furnished by the Australian
beliefs as to birth and rebirth which I have just described
to you; but on that subject I will not now dwell.<a id="footnotetag116" name="footnotetag116"></a><a href="#footnote116"><sup>116</sup></a> All that
I ask you to remember is that in Central Australia there
is no general gathering-place for the spirits of the departed;
the souls are sorted out more or less strictly according to
their totems and dwell apart each in their own little preserve
or preserves, on which ghosts of other totems are
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page96" id="page96"></a>[pg 96]</span>
supposed seldom or never to trespass. Thus the whole
country-side is dotted at intervals with these spiritual parks
or reservations, which are respected by the natives as the
abodes of their departed kinsfolk. In size they vary from
a few square yards to many square miles.<a id="footnotetag117" name="footnotetag117"></a><a href="#footnote117"><sup>117</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Traditionary origin of the local totem centres
(<i>oknanikilla</i>) where the souls of the dead are supposed to
assemble. The sacred sticks or stones (<i>churinga</i>) which the
totemic ancestors carried about with them.</p>

<p>The way in which these spiritual preserves originated is
supposed to be as follows. In the earliest days of which
the aborigines retain a tradition, and to which they give the
name of the <i>alcheringa</i> or dream times, their remote ancestors
roamed about the country in bands, each band composed of
people of the same totem. Thus one band would consist
of frog people only, another of witchetty grub people only,
another of Hakea flower people only, and so on.  Now in
regard to the nature of these remote totemic ancestors of the
<i>alcheringa</i> or dream times, the ideas of the natives are very
hazy; they do not in fact clearly distinguish their human
from their totemic nature; in speaking, for example, of a
man of the kangaroo totem they seem unable to discriminate
sharply between the man and the animal: perhaps we may
say that what is before their mind is a blurred image, a sort
of composite photograph, of a man and a kangaroo in one:
the man is semi-bestial, the kangaroo is semi-human. And
similarly with their ancestors of all other totems: if the
particular ancestors, for example, had the bean-tree for their
totem, then their descendants in thinking of them might,
like the blind man in the Gospel, see in their mind's eye
men walking like trees and trees perambulating like men.
Now each of these semi-human ancestors is thought to have
carried about with him on his peregrinations one or more
sacred sticks or stones of a peculiar pattern, to which the
Arunta give the name of <i>churinga</i>: they are for the most
part oval or elongated and flattened stones or slabs of wood,
varying in length from a few inches to over five feet, and
inscribed with a variety of patterns which represent or have
reference to the totems. But the patterns are purely conventional,
consisting of circles, curved lines, spirals, and dots
with no attempt to represent natural objects pictorially.
Each of these sacred stones or sticks was intimately
associated with the spirit part of the man or woman who
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page97" id="page97"></a>[pg 97]</span>
carried it; for women as well as men had their <i>churinga</i>.
When these semi-human ancestors died, they went into the
ground, leaving their sacred stones or sticks behind them on
the spot, and in every case some natural feature arose to
mark the place, it might be a tree, a rock, a pool of water,
or what not. The memory of all such spots has been carefully
preserved and handed down from generation to
generation by the old men, and it is to these spots that
down to the present day the souls of all the dead regularly
repair in order to await reincarnation. The Arunta call the
places <i>oknanikilla</i>, and we may call them local totem centres,
because they are the centres where the spirits of the departed
assemble according to their totems.<a id="footnotetag118" name="footnotetag118"></a><a href="#footnote118"><sup>118</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Every living person has also his or her sacred stick or stone
(<i>churinga</i>), with which his or her spirit is closely bound up.</p>

<p>But it is not merely the remote forefathers of the
Central Australian savages who are said to have been
possessed of these sacred sticks or stones: every man and
woman who is born into the world has one of them, with
which his or her spirit is believed to be closely bound up.
This is intelligible when we remember that every living
person is believed to be simply the reincarnation of an
ancestor; for that being so he naturally comes to life with
all the attributes which belonged to him in his previous
state of existence on earth. The notion of the natives is
that when a spirit child enters into a woman to be born, he
immediately drops his sacred stick or stone on the spot,
which is necessarily one of what we have called the local
totem centres, since in the opinion of the natives it is only
at or near them that a woman can conceive a child. Hence
when her child is born, the woman tells her husband the
place where she fancies that the infant entered into her, and
he goes with some old men to find the precious object, the
stick or stone dropped by the spirit of the infant when it
entered into the mother. If it cannot be found, the men
cut a wooden one from the nearest hard-wood tree, and
this becomes the sacred stick or <i>churinga</i> of the newborn
child. The exact spot, whether a tree or a stone or what
not, in which the child's spirit is supposed to have tarried in
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page98" id="page98"></a>[pg 98]</span>
the interval between its incarnations, is called its <i>nanja</i> tree
or stone or what not. A definite relation is supposed to
exist between each individual and his <i>nanja</i> tree or stone.
The tree or stone and any animal or bird that lights upon
it is sacred to him and may not be molested. A native has
been known earnestly to intercede with a white man to
spare a tree because it was his <i>nanja</i> or birth-tree, and he
feared that evil would befall him if it were cut down.<a id="footnotetag119" name="footnotetag119"></a><a href="#footnote119"><sup>119</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Sanctity of the <i>churinga</i>.</p>

<p>Thus in these Central Australian tribes every man,
woman, and child has his or her sacred birth-stone or stick.
But though every woman, like every man, has her sacred
birth-stone or stick, she is never allowed to see it under pain
of death or of being blinded with a fire-stick. Indeed none
but old women are aware even of the existence of such
things. Uninitiated men are likewise forbidden under the
same severe penalties ever to look upon these most sacred
objects.<a id="footnotetag120" name="footnotetag120"></a><a href="#footnote120"><sup>120</sup></a> The sanctity ascribed to the sticks and stones is
intelligible when we remember that the spirits of all the
people both living and dead are believed to be intimately
associated with them. Each of them, we are told, is
supposed to be so closely bound up with a person's spirit
that it may be regarded as his or her representative, and
those of dead people are believed to be endowed with the
attributes of their former owners and actually to impart
them to any one who happens to carry them about with
him. Hence these apparently insignificant sticks and stones
are, in the opinion of the natives, most potent instruments
for conveying to the living the virtues and powers of the
dead. For example, in a fight the possession of one of these
holy sticks or stones is thought to endow the possessor with
courage and accuracy of aim and also to deprive his
adversary of these qualities. So firmly is this belief held,
that if two men were fighting and one of them knew that
the other carried a sacred birth-stone or stick while he himself
did not, he would certainly lose heart and be beaten.
Again, when a man is sick, he will sometimes have one of
these sacred stones brought to him and will scrape a little
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page99" id="page99"></a>[pg 99]</span>
dust off it, mix the dust with water, and drink it. This is
supposed to strengthen him. Clearly he imagines that with
the scrapings of the stone he absorbs the strength and other
qualities of the person to whom the stone belonged.<a id="footnotetag121" name="footnotetag121"></a><a href="#footnote121"><sup>121</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Sacred store-houses (<i>ertnatulunga</i>) of the
<i>churinga</i>.</p>

<p>All the birth-stones or sticks (<i>churinga</i>) belonging to
any particular totemic group are kept together, hidden away
from the eyes of women and uninitiated men, in a sacred
store-house or <i>ertnatulunga</i>, as the Arunta and Unmatjera
call it. This store-house is always situated in one of the local
totem centres or <i>oknanikilla</i>, which, as we have seen, vary in
size from a few yards to many square miles. In itself the
sacred treasure-house is usually a small cave or crevice in
some lonely spot among the rugged hills. The entrance is
carefully blocked up with stones arranged so artfully as to
simulate nature and to awake no suspicion in the mind of
passing strangers that behind these tumbled blocks lie
concealed the most prized possessions of the tribe. The
immediate neighbourhood of any one of these sacred store-houses
is a kind of haven of refuge for wild animals, for
once they have run thither, they are safe; no hunter would
spear a kangaroo or opossum which cowered on the ground
at one of these hallowed spots. The very plants which
grow there are sacred and may not be plucked or broken or
interfered with in any way. Similarly, an enemy who
succeeds in taking refuge there, is safe from his pursuer, so
long as he keeps within the sacred boundaries: even the
avenger of blood, pursuing the murderer hot-foot, would not
dare to lift up his hand against him on the holy ground.
Thus, these places are sanctuaries in the strict sense of the
word; they are probably the most primitive examples of
their class and contain the germ out of which cities of refuge
for manslayers and others might be developed. It is
instructive, therefore, to observe that these rudimentary
sanctuaries in the heart of the Australian wilderness derive
their sacredness mainly, it would seem, from their association
with the spirits of the dead, whose repose must not be
disturbed by tumult, violence, and bloodshed. Even when
the sacred birth-stones and sticks have been removed from
the store-house in the secret recesses of the hills and have
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page100" id="page100"></a>[pg 100]</span>
been brought into the camp for the performance of certain
solemn ceremonies, no fighting may take place, no weapons
may be brandished in their neighbourhood: if men will
quarrel and fight, they must take their weapons and go
elsewhere to do it.<a id="footnotetag122" name="footnotetag122"></a><a href="#footnote122"><sup>122</sup></a> And when the men go to one of the
sacred store-houses to inspect the treasures which it contains,
they must each of them put his open hand solemnly
over the mouth of the rocky crevice and then retire, in
order to give the spirits due notice of the approach of
strangers; for if they were disturbed suddenly, they would
be angry.<a id="footnotetag123" name="footnotetag123"></a><a href="#footnote123"><sup>123</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Exhibition of the <i>churinga</i> to young men.</p>

<p>It is only after a young man has passed through the
severe ceremonies of initiation, which include most painful
bodily mutilations, that he is deemed worthy to be introduced
to the tribal arcana, the sacred sticks and stones, which
repose in their hallowed cave among the mountain solitudes.
Even when he has passed through all the ordeals, many
years may elapse before he is admitted to a knowledge of
these mysteries, if he shews himself to be of a light and
frivolous disposition. When at last by the gravity of his
demeanour he is judged to have proved himself indeed a
man, a day is fixed for revealing to him the great secret.
Then the headman of his local group, together with other
grave and reverend seniors, conducts him to the mouth of
the cave: the stones are rolled away from the entrance:
the spirits within are duly warned of the approach of
visitors; and then the sacred sticks and stones, tied up in
bundles, are brought forth. The bundles are undone, the
sticks and stones are taken out, one by one, reverently
scrutinised, and exhibited to the novice, while the old men
explain to him the meaning of the patterns incised on each
and reveal to him the persons, alive or dead, to whom they
belong. All the time the other men keep chanting in a
low voice the traditions of their remote ancestors in the
far-off dream times. At the close the novice is told the
secret and sacred name which he is thenceforth to bear, and
is warned never to allow it to pass his lips in the hearing
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page101" id="page101"></a>[pg 101]</span>
of anybody except members of his own totemic group.<a id="footnotetag124" name="footnotetag124"></a><a href="#footnote124"><sup>124</sup></a>
Sometimes this secret name is that of an ancestor of whom
the man or woman is supposed to be a reincarnation: for
women as well as men have their secret and sacred names.<a id="footnotetag125" name="footnotetag125"></a><a href="#footnote125"><sup>125</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Number of <i>churinga</i> in a store-house. Significance of
the <i>churinga</i>. Use of the <i>churinga</i> in magic.</p>

<p>The number of sacred birth-stones and sticks kept
in any one store-house naturally varies from group to
group; but whatever their number, whether more or less,
in any one store-house they all normally belong to the
same totem, though a few belonging to other totems may
be borrowed and deposited for a time with them.  For
example, a sacred store-house of the honey-ant totem
was found to contain sixty-eight birth-sticks of that totem
with a few of the lizard totem and two of the wild-cat
totem.<a id="footnotetag126" name="footnotetag126"></a><a href="#footnote126"><sup>126</sup></a> Any store-house will usually contain both sticks
and stones, but as a rule perhaps the sticks predominate
in number.<a id="footnotetag127" name="footnotetag127"></a><a href="#footnote127"><sup>127</sup></a>  Time after time these tribal repositories
are visited by the men and their contents taken out and
examined.  On each examination the sacred sticks and
stones are carefully rubbed over with dry and powdered
red ochre or charcoal, the sticks being rubbed with red
ochre only, but the stones either with red ochre or
charcoal.<a id="footnotetag128" name="footnotetag128"></a><a href="#footnote128"><sup>128</sup></a>  Further, it is customary on these occasions
to press the sacred objects against the stomachs and thighs
of all the men present; this is supposed to untie their
bowels, which are thought to be tightened and knotted
by the emotion which the men feel at the sight of these
venerated sticks and stones.  Indeed, the emotion is
sometimes very real: men have been seen to weep on
beholding these mystic objects for the first time after a
considerable interval.<a id="footnotetag129" name="footnotetag129"></a><a href="#footnote129"><sup>129</sup></a> Whenever the sacred store-house
is visited and its contents examined, the old men explain
to the younger men the marks incised on the sticks and
stones, and recite the traditions associated with the dead
men to whom they belonged;<a id="footnotetag130" name="footnotetag130"></a><a href="#footnote130"><sup>130</sup></a> so that these rude objects
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page102" id="page102"></a>[pg 102]</span>
of wood and stone, with the lines and dots scratched on
them, serve the savages as memorials of the past; they
are in fact rudimentary archives as well as, we may almost
say, rudimentary idols; for a stone or stick which represents
a revered ancestor and is supposed to be endowed with
some portion of his spirit, is not far from being an idol.
No wonder, therefore, that they are guarded and treasured
by a tribe as its most precious possession. When a
group of natives have been robbed of them by thoughtless
white men and have found the sacred store-house empty,
they have tried to kill the traitor who betrayed the
hallowed spot to the strangers, and have remained in camp
for a fortnight weeping and wailing for the loss and
plastering themselves with pipeclay, which is their token
of mourning for the dead.<a id="footnotetag131" name="footnotetag131"></a><a href="#footnote131"><sup>131</sup></a> Yet, as a great mark of
friendship, they will sometimes lend these sacred sticks
and stones to a neighbouring group; for believing that
the sticks and stones are associated with the spiritual parts
of their former and present owners, they naturally wish
to have as many of them as possible and regard their
possession as a treasure of great price, a sort of reservoir
of spiritual force,<a id="footnotetag132" name="footnotetag132"></a><a href="#footnote132"><sup>132</sup></a> which can be turned to account not only
in battle by worsting the enemy, but in various other ways,
such as by magically increasing the food supply. For
instance, when a man of the grass-seed totem wishes to
increase the supply of grass-seed in order that it may be
eaten by people of other totems, he goes to the sacred
store-house, clears the ground all around it, takes out a few
of the holy sticks and stones, smears them with red ochre
and decorates them with birds' down, chanting a spell all
the time. Then he rubs them together so that the down
flies off in all directions; this is supposed to carry with
it the magical virtue of the sticks or stones and so to
fertilise the grass-seed.<a id="footnotetag133" name="footnotetag133"></a><a href="#footnote133"><sup>133</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Elements of a worship of the dead. Marvellous powers
attributed by the Central Australians to their remote ancestors of the
<i>alcheringa</i> or dream time.</p>

<p>On the whole, when we survey these practices and beliefs
of the Central Australian aborigines, we may perhaps
conclude that, if they do not amount to a worship of the
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page103" id="page103"></a>[pg 103]</span>
dead, they at least contain the elements out of which such a
worship might easily be developed.  At first sight, no doubt,
their faith in the transmigration of souls seems and perhaps
really is a serious impediment to a worship of the dead in
the strict sense of the word. For if they themselves are the
dead come to life again, it is difficult to see how they can
worship the spirits of the dead without also worshipping each
other, since they are all by hypothesis simply these worshipful
spirits reincarnated. But though in theory every living
man and woman is merely an ancestor or ancestress born
again and therefore should be his or her equal, in practice
they appear to admit that their forefathers of the remote
<i>alcheringa</i> or dream time were endowed with many marvellous
powers which their modern reincarnations cannot lay
claim to, and that accordingly these ancestral spirits were
more to be reverenced, were in fact more worshipful, than
their living representatives. On this subject Messrs. Spencer
and Gillen observe: "The Central Australian native is firmly
convinced, as will be seen from the accounts relating to their
<i>alcheringa</i> ancestors, that the latter were endowed with
powers such as no living man now possesses. They could
travel underground or mount into the sky, and could make
creeks and water-courses, mountain-ranges, sand-hills, and
plains. In very many cases the actual names of these
natives are preserved in their traditions, but, so far as
we have been able to discover, there is no instance of any
one of them being regarded in the light of a 'deity.'
Amongst the Central Australian natives there is never any
idea of appealing for assistance to any one of these Alcheringa
ancestors in any way, nor is there any attempt made in
the direction of propitiation, with one single exception in the
case of the mythic creature called Wollunqua, amongst the
Warramunga tribe, who, it may be remarked, is most
distinctly regarded as a snake and not as a human being."<a id="footnotetag134" name="footnotetag134"></a><a href="#footnote134"><sup>134</sup></a>
Thus far Messrs. Spencer and Gillen. From their testimony
it appears that with a single possible exception, to which I
will return immediately, the Central Australian aborigines
are not known to worship any of their dead ancestors;
they indeed believe their remote forefathers of the <i>alcheringa</i>
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page104" id="page104"></a>[pg 104]</span>
age to have been endowed with marvellous powers which
they themselves do not possess; but they do not regard these
ancestral spirits as deities, nor do they pray and sacrifice to
them for help and protection. The single possible exception
to this general rule known to Messrs. Spencer and Gillen is
the case of the mythical water-snake called Wollunqua, who
is in a sense revered and propitiated by the Warramunga
tribe. The case is interesting and instructive as indicative
of an advance from magic towards religion in the strict sense
of the word. Accordingly I propose to consider it somewhat
fully.</p>

<p class="side">The Wollunqua, a mythical water-snake, one of the Warramunga
totems.</p>

<p>The Wollunqua is one of the many totems of the Warramunga
tribe. It is to be borne in mind that, though every
Australian tribe has many totems which are most commonly
animals or plants and more rarely other natural objects,
all the totems are not respected by all the members of the
tribe; each totem is respected only by a particular group
of men and women in the tribe, who believe themselves to
be descended from the same totemic ancestor. Thus the
whole tribe is broken up into many groups or bodies of
men and women, each group knit together by a belief in
a common descent from the totem, by a common respect for
the totemic species, whether it be a species of animals or
plants, or what not, and finally by the possession of a common
name derived from the totem. Thus, for example, we have
a group of men and women who believe themselves descended
from an ancestor who had the bandicoot for his totem; they
all respect bandicoots; and they are all called bandicoot
people. Similarly with all the other totemic groups within
the tribe. It is convenient to have a name for these totemic
groups or tribal subdivisions, and accordingly we may call
them clans, provided we remember that a totemic clan in
this sense is not an independent political community such
as the Scottish Highland clans used to be; it is merely a
subdivision of the tribe, and the members of it do not
usually keep to themselves but live more or less interfused
with members of all the other totemic clans which together
compose the tribe. Now amongst the Warramunga the
Wollunqua or mythical water-snake is the totem of such a
clan or tribal subdivision, the members of which believe
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page105" id="page105"></a>[pg 105]</span>
themselves to be descended from the creature and call themselves
by its name. So far, therefore, the Wollunqua is
merely a totem of the ordinary sort, an object of respect
for a particular section of the tribe. Like other totemic
ancestors the Wollunqua is supposed to have wandered
about the country leaving supplies of spirit individuals at
various points, individuals who are constantly undergoing
reincarnation. But on the other hand the Wollunqua differs
from almost all other Australian totems in this, that whereas
they are real objects, such as animals, plants, water, wind,
the sun and moon, and so on, the Wollunqua is a purely
mythical creature, which exists only in the imagination of
the natives; for they believe it to be a water-snake so
huge that if it were to stand up on its tail, its head would
reach far up into the sky. It now lives in a large pool
called Thapauerlu, hidden away in a lonely valley of the
Murchison Range; but the Warramunga fear that it may at
any moment sally out and do some damage. They say that
it actually killed a number of them on one of its excursions,
though happily they at last succeeded in beating it off. So
afraid are they of the creature, that in speaking of it
amongst themselves they will not use its proper name of
Wollunqua but call it instead <i>urkulu nappaurinnia</i>, because,
as they told Messrs. Spencer and Gillen, if they were to
name it too often by its real name they would lose control
over the beast and it would rush forth and devour them.<a id="footnotetag135" name="footnotetag135"></a><a href="#footnote135"><sup>135</sup></a>
Thus the natives do not distinguish the Wollunqua from
the rest of their actually existing totems, as we do: they
have never beheld him with their bodily eyes, yet to them he
is just as real as the kangaroos which they see hopping along
the sands, as the flies which buzz about their heads in the
sunshine, or as the cockatoos which flap screaming past in
the thickets. How real this belief in the mythical snake is
with these savages, was brought vividly home to Messrs.
Spencer and Gillen when they visited, in company with some
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page106" id="page106"></a>[pg 106]</span>
natives, the deep and lonely pool among the rocky hills in
which the awful being is supposed to reside. Before they
approached the spot, the natives had been talking and
laughing freely, but when they drew near the water their
voices were hushed and their demeanour became solemn.
When all stood silent on the brink of the deep still pool,
enclosed by a sandy margin on one side and by a line
of red rocks on the other, two old men, the leaders of
the totemic group of the Wollunqua, went down to the
edge of the water and, with bowed heads, addressed the
Wollunqua in whispers, asking him to remain quiet and do
them no harm, for they were mates of his, and had brought
two great white men to see where he lived and to tell them
all about him. "We could plainly see," add Messrs. Spencer
and Gillen, "that it was all very real to them, and that they
implicitly believed that the Wollunqua was indeed alive
beneath the water, watching them, though they could not see
him."<a id="footnotetag136" name="footnotetag136"></a><a href="#footnote136"><sup>136</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Religious character of the belief in the Wollunqua.</p>

<p>I need hardly point out what a near approach all
this is to religion in the proper sense of the word. Here
we have a firm belief in a purely imaginary being who is
necessarily visible to the eye of faith alone, since I think we
may safely assume that a water-snake, supposed to be many
miles long and capable of reaching up to the sky, has no
real existence either on the earth or in the waters under the
earth. Yet to these savages this invisible being is just as
real as the actually existing animals and men whom they
perceive with their bodily senses; they not only pray to him
but they propitiate him with a solemn ritual; and no doubt
they would spurn with scorn the feeble attempts of shallow
sceptics to question the reality of his existence or the literal
truth of the myths they tell about him. Certainly these
savages are far on the road to religion, if they have not
already passed the Rubicon which divides it from the
common workaday world. If an unhesitating faith in the
unseen is part of religion, the Warramunga people of the
Wollunqua totem are unquestionably religious.</p>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote108" name="footnote108"></a><b>Footnote 108:</b><a href="#footnotetag108"> (return) </a><p> On the zoological peculiarities of Australia regarded as
effects of its geographical isolation, see Alfred Newton, <i>Dictionary
of Birds</i> (London, 1893-96), pp. 317-319. He observes (p. 318) that
"the isolation of Australia is probably the next oldest in the world to
that of New Zealand, having possibly existed since the time when no
mammals higher than marsupials had appeared on the face of the earth."</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote109" name="footnote109"></a><b>Footnote 109:</b><a href="#footnotetag109"> (return) </a><p>For details see <i>Totemism and Exogamy</i>, i. 314 <i>sqq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote110" name="footnote110"></a><b>Footnote 110:</b><a href="#footnotetag110"> (return) </a><p> Baldwin Spencer and F. J. Gillen,
<i>Northern Tribes of Central Australia</i>
(London, 1904), p. 491.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote111" name="footnote111"></a><b>Footnote 111:</b><a href="#footnotetag111"> (return) </a><p> Spencer and Gillen, <i>Northern
Tribes of Central Australia</i>, p. xi.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote112" name="footnote112"></a><b>Footnote 112:</b><a href="#footnotetag112"> (return) </a><p> Spencer and Gillen, <i>op. cit.</i> p.
545.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote113" name="footnote113"></a><b>Footnote 113:</b><a href="#footnotetag113"> (return) </a><p>Spencer and Gillen, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 546.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote114" name="footnote114"></a><b>Footnote 114:</b><a href="#footnotetag114"> (return) </a><p> Baldwin Spencer and F. J. Gillen, <i>Native Tribes of
Central Australia</i> (London, 1899), pp. 119-127, 335-338, 552; <i>id.,
Northern Tribes of Central Australia</i>, pp. 145-153, 162, 271, 330
<i>sq.</i>, 448-451, 512-515. Compare <i>Totemism and Exogamy</i>, i.
188 <i>sqq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote115" name="footnote115"></a><b>Footnote 115:</b><a href="#footnotetag115"> (return) </a><p> Spencer and Gillen, <i>Northern Tribes of Central
Australia</i>, p. 147.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote116" name="footnote116"></a><b>Footnote 116:</b><a href="#footnotetag116"> (return) </a><p> See <i>Totemism and Exogamy</i>, i. 155 <i>sqq.</i>, iv.
40 <i>sqq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote117" name="footnote117"></a><b>Footnote 117:</b><a href="#footnotetag117"> (return) </a><p> Spencer and Gillen, <i>Native Tribes of Central
Australia</i>, pp. 123, 126.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote118" name="footnote118"></a><b>Footnote 118:</b><a href="#footnotetag118"> (return) </a><p> Spencer and Gillen, <i>Native Tribes of Central
Australia</i>, pp. 119-127, 128 <i>sqq.</i>, 513; <i>id., Northern
Tribes of Central Australia</i>, pp. 145 <i>sqq.</i>, 257 <i>sqq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote119" name="footnote119"></a><b>Footnote 119:</b><a href="#footnotetag119"> (return) </a><p> Spencer and Gillen, <i>Native Tribes of Central
Australia</i>, pp. 132-135; <i>id.</i>, <i>Northern Tribes of Central
Australia</i>, pp. 258, 268 <i>sqq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote120" name="footnote120"></a><b>Footnote 120:</b><a href="#footnotetag120"> (return) </a><p> Spencer and Gillen, <i>Native Tribes
of Central Australia</i>, pp. 128, 134.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote121" name="footnote121"></a><b>Footnote 121:</b><a href="#footnotetag121"> (return) </a><p> Spencer and Gillen, <i>Native Tribes of Central
Australia</i>, pp. 134 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote122" name="footnote122"></a><b>Footnote 122:</b><a href="#footnotetag122"> (return) </a><p> Spencer and Gillen, <i>Native Tribes
of Central Australia</i>, pp. 133, 135; <i>id.</i>,
<i>Northern Tribes of Central Australia</i>,
p. 269.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote123" name="footnote123"></a><b>Footnote 123:</b><a href="#footnotetag123"> (return) </a><p> Spencer and Gillen, <i>Northern
Tribes of Central Australia</i>, p. 267.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote124" name="footnote124"></a><b>Footnote 124:</b><a href="#footnotetag124"> (return) </a><p> Spencer and Gillen, <i>Native Tribes
of Central Australia</i>, pp. 139 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote125" name="footnote125"></a><b>Footnote 125:</b><a href="#footnotetag125"> (return) </a><p> Spencer and Gillen, <i>Northern
Tribes of Central Australia</i>, p. 273.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote126" name="footnote126"></a><b>Footnote 126:</b><a href="#footnotetag126"> (return) </a><p> Spencer and Gillen, <i>Native Tribes of Central
Australia</i>, p. 141.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote127" name="footnote127"></a><b>Footnote 127:</b><a href="#footnotetag127"> (return) </a><p>Spencer and Gillen, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 140</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote128" name="footnote128"></a><b>Footnote 128:</b><a href="#footnotetag128"> (return) </a><p>Spencer and Gillen, <i>Native Tribes</i>, pp. 144, 145.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote129" name="footnote129"></a><b>Footnote 129:</b><a href="#footnotetag129"> (return) </a><p> Spencer and Gillen, <i>Native Tribes</i>, pp. 164,
<i>sq.</i>; <i>id.</i>, <i>Northern Tribes</i>, pp. 261, 264.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote130" name="footnote130"></a><b>Footnote 130:</b><a href="#footnotetag130"> (return) </a><p>Spencer and Gillen, <i>Native Tribes</i>, p. 145.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote131" name="footnote131"></a><b>Footnote 131:</b><a href="#footnotetag131"> (return) </a><p>Spencer and Gillen, <i>Native Tribes</i>, p. 136.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote132" name="footnote132"></a><b>Footnote 132:</b><a href="#footnotetag132"> (return) </a><p> Spencer and Gillen, <i>Native Tribes</i>, pp. 158
<i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote133" name="footnote133"></a><b>Footnote 133:</b><a href="#footnotetag133"> (return) </a><p> Spencer and Gillen, <i>Northern Tribes</i>, pp. 271
<i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote134" name="footnote134"></a><b>Footnote 134:</b><a href="#footnotetag134"> (return) </a><p> Spencer and Gillen, <i>Northern Tribes of Central
Australia</i>, pp. 490 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote135" name="footnote135"></a><b>Footnote 135:</b><a href="#footnotetag135"> (return) </a><p> Spencer and Gillen, <i>Northern Tribes of Central
Australia</i>, pp. 226 <i>sq.</i> Another mythical being in which the
Warramunga believe is <i>the pau-wa</i>, a fabulous animal, half human
and somewhat resembling a dog. See Spencer and Gillen, <i>op. cit.</i>
pp. 195, 197, 201, 210 <i>sq.</i> But the creature seems not to be a
totem, for it is not included in the list of totems given by Messrs.
Spencer and Gillen (<i>op. cit.</i> pp. 768-773).</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote136" name="footnote136"></a><b>Footnote 136:</b><a href="#footnotetag136"> (return) </a><p> Spencer and Gillen, <i>Northern Tribes of Central
Australia</i>, pp. 252 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<span class="pagenum"><a name="page107" id="page107"></a>[pg 107]</span>




<h2><a name="lecture-v" id="lecture-v"></a>LECTURE V</h2>

<h3>THE BELIEF IN IMMORTALITY AMONG THE ABORIGINES
OF CENTRAL AUSTRALIA (<i>continued</i>)</h3>


<p class="side">Beliefs of the Central Australian aborigines concerning the
reincarnation of the dead. The mythical water-snake Wollunqua.</p>

<p>In the last lecture we began our survey of the belief in
immortality and the practices to which it has given rise
among the aboriginal tribes of Central Australia.  I shewed
that these primitive savages hold a very remarkable theory of
birth and death. They believe that the souls of the dead do not
perish but are reborn in human form after a longer or shorter
interval. During that interval the spirits of the departed
are supposed to congregate in certain parts of the country,
generally distinguished by some conspicuous natural feature,
which accordingly the natives account sacred, believing them
to be haunted by the souls of the dead.  From time to time
one of these disembodied spirits enters into a passing woman
and is born as an infant into the world. Thus according to
the Central Australian theory every living person without
exception is the reincarnation of a dead man, woman, or
child. At first sight the theory seems to exclude the
possibility of any worship of the dead, since it appears
to put the living on a footing of perfect equality with the
dead by identifying the one with the other. But I pointed
out that as a matter of fact these savages do admit,
whether logically or not, the superiority of their remote
ancestors to themselves: they acknowledge that these old
forefathers of theirs did possess many marvellous powers to
which they themselves can lay no claim. In this acknowledgment,
accordingly, we may detect an opening or possibility
for the development of a real worship of ancestors.
Indeed, as I said at the close of last lecture, something
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page108" id="page108"></a>[pg 108]</span>
closely approaching to ancestor worship has actually grown
up in regard to the mythical ancestor of the Wollunqua
clan in the Warramunga tribe. The Wollunqua is a
purely fabulous water-snake, of gigantic dimensions, which
is supposed to haunt the waters of a certain lonely pool
called Thapauerlu, in the Murchison Range of mountains.
Unlike the ancestors of the other totemic clans, this mythical
serpent is never reborn in human form; he always lives in
his solitary pool among the barren hills; but the natives
think that he has it in his power to come forth and do
them an injury, and accordingly they pray to him to remain
quiet and not to harm them. Indeed so afraid of him are
they that speaking of the creature among themselves they
avoid using his proper name of Wollunqua and call him by
a different name, lest hearing himself called by his true
name he should rush forth and devour them. More than that
they even endeavour to propitiate him by the performance
of certain rites, which, however childish and absurd they
may seem to us, are very solemn affairs for these simple folk.
The rites were witnessed by Messrs. Spencer and Gillen,
whose description I will summarise. It offers an interesting
and instructive example of a ritual observed by primitive
savages, who are clearly standing on, if they have not
already crossed, the threshold of religion.</p>

<p class="side">Wanderings of the Wollunqua. Dramatic ceremonies in honour of
the Wollunqua.</p>

<p>Like all other totemic ancestors the Wollunqua is said
to have arisen at a particular spot, to have wandered about
the country, and finally to have gone down into the ground.
Starting from the deep rocky pool in the Murchison Range
he travelled at first underground, coming up, however, at
various points where he performed ceremonies and left
many spirit children, who issued from his body and
remained behind, forming local totemic centres when he
had passed on. It is these spirit children who have formed
the Wollunqua clan ever since, undergoing an endless
series of reincarnations. Now the ceremonies which the
clan perform in honour of their mythical ancestor the
Wollunqua all refer to his wanderings about the country.
Thus there is a particular water-hole called Pitingari where
the great old water-snake is said to have emerged from the
ground and looked about him.  Here, accordingly, two
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page109" id="page109"></a>[pg 109]</span>
men performed a ceremony. Each of them was decorated
with a broad band of red down, which curved round both
the front and the back of the performer and stood sharply
out from the mass of white down with which all the rest of
the upper part of his body was covered. These broad red
bands represented the Wollunqua. Each man also wore a
tall, conical helmet adorned with a curved band of red down,
which, no doubt, likewise symbolised the mythical serpent.
When the two actors in the little drama had been attired in
this quaint costume of red and white down, they retired
behind a bush, which served for the side scenes of a theatre.
Then, when the orchestra, composed of adult men, struck up
the music on the ceremonial ground by chanting and beating
boomerangs and sticks together, the performers ran in,
stopping every now and then to shake themselves in imitation
of the snake. Finally, they sat down close together
with their heads bowed down on a few green branches
of gum-trees. A man then stepped up to them, knocked
off their head-dresses, and the simple ceremony came to an
end.<a id="footnotetag137" name="footnotetag137"></a><a href="#footnote137"><sup>137</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Ceremony in honour of the Wollunqua.</p>

<p>The next ceremony was performed on the following day
at another place called Antipataringa, where the mythical
snake is said to have halted in his wanderings. The same
two men acted as before, but this time one of them carried
on his head a curious curved bundle shaped like an enormous
boomerang. It was made of grass-stalks bound together
with human hair-string and decorated with white down.
This sacred object represented the Wollunqua himself.<a id="footnotetag138" name="footnotetag138"></a><a href="#footnote138"><sup>138</sup></a> From
this spot the snake was believed to have travelled on to another
place called Tjunguniari, where he popped up his head
among the sand-hills, the greater part of his body remaining
underground. Indeed, of such an enormous length was the
serpent, that though his head had now travelled very many
miles his tail still remained at the starting-point and had not
yet begun to take part in the procession. Here accordingly
the third ceremony, perhaps we may say the third act in
the drama, was performed on the third day. In it one of
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page110" id="page110"></a>[pg 110]</span>
the actors personated the snake himself, while the other
stood for a sand-hill.<a id="footnotetag139" name="footnotetag139"></a><a href="#footnote139"><sup>139</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Further ceremony in honour of the Wollunqua: the white mound
with the red wavy band to represent the mythical snake.</p>

<p>After an interval of three days a fourth ceremony was
performed of an entirely different kind. A keel-shaped
mound was made of wet sand, about fifteen feet long by
two feet high. The smooth surface of the mound was covered
with a mass of little dots of white down, except for a long
wavy band of red down which ran all along both sides of
the mound. This wavy red band represented the Wollunqua,
his head being indicated by a small round swelling at one
end and his tail by a short prolongation at the other. The
mound itself represented a sand-hill beside which the snake
is said to have stood up and looked about. The preparation
of this elaborate emblem of the Wollunqua occupied the
greater part of the day, and it was late in the afternoon
before it was completed. When darkness fell, fires were
lighted on the ceremonial ground, and as the night grew late
more fires were kindled, and all of the men sat round the
mound singing songs which referred to the mythical water-snake.
This went on for hours. At last, about three
o'clock in the morning, a ring of fires was lit all round the
ceremonial ground, in the light of which the white trunks of
the gum-trees and the surrounding scrub stood out weird and
ghastly against the blackness of darkness beyond. Amid
the wildest excitement the men of the Wollunqua totem now
ranged themselves in single file on their knees beside the
mound which bore the red image of their great mythical
forefather, and with their hands on their thighs surged round
and round it, every man bending in unison first to one side
and then to the other, each successive movement being accompanied
by a loud and simultaneous shout, or rather yell, while
the other men, who were not of the Wollunqua totem, stood
by, clanging their boomerangs excitedly, and one old man,
who acted as a sort of choregus, walked backwards at the
end of the kneeling procession of Wollunqua men, swaying
his body about and lifting high his knees at every step. In
this way, with shouts and clangour, the men of the totem
surged twice round the mound on their knees. After that,
as the fires died down, the men rose from their knees, and
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page111" id="page111"></a>[pg 111]</span>
for another hour every one sat round the mound singing
incessantly. The last act in the drama was played at four
o'clock in the morning at the moment when the first faint
streaks of dawn glimmered in the east. At sight of them
every man jumped to his feet, the smouldering fires were
rekindled, and in their blaze the long white mound stood
out in strong relief. The men of the totem, armed with
spears, boomerangs, and clubs, ranged themselves round it,
and encouraged by the men of the other totems attacked it
fiercely with their weapons, until in a few minutes they had
hacked it to pieces, and nothing was left of it but a rough
heap of sandy earth. The fires again died down and for a
short time silence reigned. Then, just as the sun rose above
the eastern horizon, the painful ceremony of subincision was
performed on three youths, who had recently passed through
the earlier stages of initiation.<a id="footnotetag140" name="footnotetag140"></a><a href="#footnote140"><sup>140</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">The rite aims both at pleasing and at coercing the mythical
snake.</p>

<p>This remarkable rite is supposed, we are informed, "in
some way to be associated with the idea of persuading, or
almost forcing, the Wollunqua to remain quietly in his home
under the water-hole at Thapauerlu, and to do no harm to
any of the natives. They say that when he sees the mound
with his representation drawn upon it he is gratified, and
wriggles about underneath with pleasure.  The savage
attack upon the mound is associated with the idea of
driving him down, and, taken altogether, the ceremony
indicates their belief that, at one and the same time,
they can both please and coerce the mythic beast. It is
necessary to do things to please him, or else he might grow
sulky and come out and do them harm, but at the same
time they occasionally use force to make him do what
they want."<a id="footnotetag141" name="footnotetag141"></a><a href="#footnote141"><sup>141</sup></a> In fact the ritual of the mound with its
red image of the snake combines the principles of religion
and magic. So far as the rite is intended to please and
propitiate the mythical beast, it is religious; so far as
it is intended to constrain him, it is magical. The two
principles are contradictory and the attempt to combine
them is illogical; but the savage is heedless, or rather
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page112" id="page112"></a>[pg 112]</span>
totally unaware, of the contradiction and illogicality: all
that concerns him is to accomplish his ends: he has neither
the wish nor the ability to analyse his motives. In this
respect he is in substantial agreement with the vast
majority of mankind. How many of us scrutinise the
reasons of our conduct with the view of detecting and
eliminating any latent inconsistencies in them? And how
many, or rather how few of us, on such a scrutiny would be
so fortunate as to discover that there were no such inconsistencies
to detect? The logical pedant who imagines
that men cannot possibly act on inconsistent and even contradictory
motives only betrays his ignorance of life. It is
not therefore for us to cast stones at the Warramunga men
of the Wollunqua totem for attempting to propitiate and
constrain their mythical serpent at the same time. Such
contradictions meet us again and again in the history of
religion: it is interesting but by no means surprising to find
them in one of its rudimentary stages.</p>

<p class="side">Thunder the voice of the Wollunqua.</p>

<p>On the evening of the day which succeeded the construction
of the emblematic mound the old men who had
made the emblem said they had heard the Wollunqua talking,
and that he was pleased with what had been done and
was sending them rain. What they took for the voice of
the Wollunqua was thunder rumbling in the distance. No
rain fell, but a few days later thunder was again heard rolling
afar off and a heavy bank of clouds lay low on the
western horizon. The old men now said that the Wollunqua
was growling because the remains of the mound had
been left uncovered; so they hastily cut down branches and
covered up the ruins. After that the Wollunqua ceased to
growl: there was no more thunder.<a id="footnotetag142" name="footnotetag142"></a><a href="#footnote142"><sup>142</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Ground drawings of the Wollunqua.</p>

<p>On the four following days ceremonies of an entirely
different kind from all the preceding were performed in
honour of the Wollunqua. A space of sandy ground was
smoothed down, sprinkled with water, and rubbed so as to
form a compact surface.  The smooth surface was then
overlaid with a coat of red or yellow ochre, and on this
coloured background a number of designs were traced, one
after the other, by a series of white dots, which together
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page113" id="page113"></a>[pg 113]</span>
made up a pattern of curved lines and concentric circles.
These patterns represented the Wollunqua and some of his
traditionary adventures. The snake himself was portrayed
by a broad wavy band, but all the other designs were purely
conventional; for example, trees, ant-hills, and wells were
alike indicated by circles. Altogether there were eight such
drawings on the earth, some of them very elaborate and
entailing, each of them, not less than six or seven hours'
labour: one of them was ten feet long. Each drawing was
rubbed out before the next one was drawn. Moreover, the
drawings were accompanied by little dramas acted by
decorated men. In one of these dramas no fewer than
eight actors took part, some of whom wore head-dresses
adorned with a long wavy band to represent the Wollunqua.
The last drawing of all was supposed to portray the
mythical snake as he plunged into the earth and returned
to his home in the rocky pool called Thapauerlu among the
Murchison Ranges.<a id="footnotetag143" name="footnotetag143"></a><a href="#footnote143"><sup>143</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Religious importance of the Wollunqua.</p>

<p>I have dwelt at some length on these ceremonies of the
Wollunqua totem, because they furnish a remarkable and
perhaps unique instance in Australia of a totemic ancestor
in the act of developing into something like a god. In the
Warramunga tribe there are other snake totems besides the
Wollunqua; for example, there is the black snake totem
and the deaf adder totem. But this purely mythical water-snake,
the Wollunqua, is the most important of them all
and is regarded as the great father of all the snakes. "It
is not easy," say Messrs. Spencer and Gillen, "to express
in words what is in reality rather a vague feeling amongst
the natives, but after carefully watching the different series
of ceremonies we were impressed with the feeling that the
Wollunqua represented to the native mind the idea of a
dominant totem."<a id="footnotetag144" name="footnotetag144"></a><a href="#footnote144"><sup>144</sup></a> Thus he is at once a fabulous animal
and the mythical ancestor of a human clan, but his animal
nature apparently predominates over his semi-human nature,
as shewn by the drawings and effigies of him, all of which
are in serpent form. The prayers offered to him at the pool
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page114" id="page114"></a>[pg 114]</span>
which he is supposed to haunt, and the attempt to please
him by drawing his likeness can only be regarded as propitiatory
rites and therefore as rudimentary forms of worship.
And the idea that thunder is his voice, and that the rain is
a gift sent by him in return for the homage paid to him by
the people, appears to prove that in course of time, if left to
himself, he might easily have been elevated to the sky and
have ranked as a celestial deity, who dwells aloft and sends
down or withholds the refreshing showers at his good
pleasure. Thus the Wollunqua, a rude creation of the savage
Australian imagination, possesses a high interest for the
historian of religion, since he combines elements of ancestor
worship and totem worship with a germ of heaven worship;
while on the purely material side his representation, both in
plastic form by a curved bundle of grass-stalks and in
graphic form by broad wavy bands of red down, may be
said in a sense to stand at the starting-point of that long
development of religious art, which in so many countries
and so many ages has attempted to represent to the bodily
eye the mysteries of the unseen and invisible, and which,
whatever we may think of the success or failure of that
attempt, has given to the world some of the noblest works
of sculpture and painting.</p>

<p class="side">Possible religious evolution of totemism.</p>

<p>I have already pointed out the difficulty of seeing how a
belief in the reincarnation of the dead, such as prevails
universally among the aborigines of Central Australia, could
ever be reconciled with or develop into a worship of the
dead; for by identifying the living with the dead, the theory
of reincarnation seems to abolish that distinction between
the worshipper and the worshipped which is essential to
the existence of worship. But, as I also indicated, what
seems a loophole or mode of escape from the dilemma may
be furnished by the belief of these savages, that though
they themselves are nothing but their ancestors come to
life again, nevertheless in their earliest incarnations of the
<i>alcheringa</i> or dream times their ancestors possessed miraculous
powers which they have admittedly lost in their later
reincarnations; for this suggests an incipient discrimination
or line of cleavage between the living and the dead; it hints
that perhaps after all the first ancestors, with their marvellous
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page115" id="page115"></a>[pg 115]</span>
endowments, may have been entirely different persons
from their feebler descendants, and if this vague hint could
only grow into a firm conviction of the essential difference
between the two, then the course would be clear for the
development of ancestor worship: the dead forefathers,
viewed as beings perfectly distinct from and far superior to
the living, might easily come to receive from the latter the
homage of prayer and sacrifice, might be besought by their
descendants to protect them in danger and to succour them
in all the manifold ills of life, or at least to abstain from
injuring them. Now, this important step in religious evolution
appears to have been actually taken by the Wollunqua,
the mythical water-snake, who is the totem of one of the
Warramunga clans. Unlike all the other totems he is supposed
to exist only in his invisible and animal form and
never to be reincarnated in a man.<a id="footnotetag145" name="footnotetag145"></a><a href="#footnote145"><sup>145</sup></a> Hence, withdrawn as
he is from the real world of sense, the imagination is free to
play about him and to invest him more and more with those
supernatural attributes which men ascribe to their deities.
And what has actually happened to this particular totemic
ancestor might under favourable circumstances happen to
many others. Each of them might be gradually detached
from the line of his descendants, might cease to be reincarnated
in them, and might gradually attain to the lonely
pre-eminence of godhead. Thus a system of pure totemism,
such as prevails among the aborigines of Central Australia,
might develop through a phase of ancestor worship into a
pantheon of the ordinary type.</p>

<p class="side">Conspicuous features of the landscape associated with
ancestral spirits.</p>

<p>Although none of the other totemic ancestors of the
Central Australian aborigines appears to have advanced so
far on the road to religion as the Wollunqua, yet they all
contain in germ the elements out of which a religion might
have been developed. It is difficult for us civilised men to
conceive the extent to which the thoughts and lives of these
savages are dominated by the memories and traditions of
the dead. Every conspicuous feature in the landscape is
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page116" id="page116"></a>[pg 116]</span>
not only associated with the legendary doings of some
ancestors but is commonly said to have arisen as a direct
result of their actions. The mountains, the plains, the rivers,
the seas, the islands of ancient Greece itself were not more
thickly haunted by the phantoms of a fairy mythology than
are the barren sun-scorched steppes and stony hills of the
Australian wilderness; but great indeed is the gulf which
divides the beautiful creations of Greek fancy from the crude
imaginings of the Australian savage, whose legendary tales
are for the most part a mere tissue of trivial absurdities
unrelieved by a single touch of beauty or poetry.</p>

<p class="side">A journey through the Warramunga country.</p>

<p>To illustrate at once the nature and the abundance of these
legends I will quote a passage in which Messrs. Spencer and
Gillen describe a journey they took in company with some
Warramunga natives over part of their country:&mdash;"For the
first two days our way lay across miserable plain country
covered with poor scrub, with here and there low ranges rising.
Every prominent feature of any kind was associated with
some tradition of their past. A range some five miles away
from Tennant Creek arose to mark the path traversed by
the great ancestor of the Pittongu (bat) totem. Several
miles further on a solitary upstanding column of rock represented
an opossum man who rested here, looked about the
country, and left spirit children behind him; a low range of
remarkably white quartzite hills indicated a large number of
white ant eggs thrown here in the <i>wingara</i><a id="footnotetag146" name="footnotetag146"></a><a href="#footnote146"><sup>146</sup></a> by the Munga-munga
women as they passed across the country. A solitary
flat-topped hill arose to mark the spot where the Wongana
(crow) ancestor paused for some time to pierce his nose;
and on the second night we camped by the side of a waterhole
where the same crow lived for some time in the
<i>wingara</i>, and where now there are plenty of crow spirit
children. All the time, as we travelled along, the old men
were talking amongst themselves about the natural features
associated in tradition with these and other totemic ancestors
of the tribe, and pointing them out to us. On the third
day we travelled, at first for some hours, by the side of a
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page117" id="page117"></a>[pg 117]</span>
river-bed,&mdash;perfectly dry of course,&mdash;and passed the spot
where two hawks first made fire by rubbing sticks together,
two fine gum-trees on the banks now representing the place
where they stood up. A few miles further on we came to a
water-hole by the side of which the moon-man met a bandicoot
woman, and while the two were talking together the
fire made by the hawks crept upon them and burnt the
woman, who was, however, restored to life again by the
moon-man, with whom she then went up into the sky. Late
in the afternoon we skirted the eastern base of the Murchison
Range, the rugged quartzite hills in this part being
associated partly with the crow ancestor and partly with
the bat. Following up a valley leading into the hills we
camped, just after sunset, by the side of a rather picturesque
water-pool amongst the ranges. A short distance before
reaching this the natives pointed out a curious red cliff,
standing out amongst the low hills which were elsewhere
covered with thin scrub. This, which is called Tjiti, represents
the spot where an old woman spent a long time
digging for yams, the latter being indicated by great heaps
of stones lying all around. On the opposite side of the
valley a column of stone marks the spot where the woman
went into the earth. The water-hole by which we were
camped was called Wiarminni. It was in reality a deep
pool in the bed of a creek coming down from the hills.
Behind it the rocks rose abruptly, and amongst them there
was, or rather would have been if a stream had been flowing,
a succession of cascades and rocky water-holes. Two of the
latter, just above Wiarminni, are connected with a fish totem,
and represent the spot where two fish men arose in the
<i>alcheringa</i>, fought one another, left spirit children behind, and
finally went down into the ground. We were now, so to
speak, in the very midst of <i>mungai</i> [<i>i.e.</i> of places associated
with the totems], for the old totemic ancestors of the tribe,
who showed a most commendable fondness for arising and
walking about in the few picturesque spots which their
country contained, had apparently selected these rocky
gorges as their central home. All around us the water-holes,
gorges, and rocky crags were peopled with spirit individuals
left behind by one or other of the following totemic
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page118" id="page118"></a>[pg 118]</span>
ancestors:&mdash;Wollunqua, Pittongu (bat), Wongana (crow),
wild dog, emu, bandicoot, and fish, whose lines of travel in
the <i>alcheringa</i> formed a regular network over the whole
countryside."<a id="footnotetag147" name="footnotetag147"></a><a href="#footnote147"><sup>147</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Dramatic ceremonies to commemorate the doings of ancestors.</p>

<p>Similar evidence could be multiplied, but this may suffice
to teach us how to the minds of these Central Australian
savages the whole country is haunted, in the literal sense, not
merely by the memories of their dead, but by the spirits
which they left behind them and which are constantly
undergoing reincarnation. And not only are the minds of
the aborigines preoccupied by the thought of their ancestors,
who are recalled to them by all the familiar features of the
landscape, but they spend a considerable part of their time
in dramatically representing the legendary doings of their rude
forefathers of the remote past. It is astonishing, we are
told, how large a part of a native's life is occupied with the
performance of these dramatic ceremonies. The older he
grows, the greater is the share he takes in them, until at last
they actually absorb the greater part of his thoughts. The
rites which seem so trivial to us are most serious matters to
him. They are all connected with the great ancestors of
the tribe, and he is firmly convinced that when he dies his
spirit will rejoin theirs and live in communion with them
until the time comes for him to be born again into the
world. With such solemnity does he look on the celebration
of these commemorative services, as we may call them, that
none but initiated men are allowed to witness them; women
and children are strictly excluded from the spectacle. These
sacred dramas are often, though by no means always, associated
with the rites of initiation which young men have to
pass through before they are admitted to full membership of
the tribe and to participation in its deepest mysteries. The
rites of initiation are not all undergone by a youth at the
same time; they succeed each other at longer or shorter
intervals of time, and at each of them he is privileged to
witness some of the solemn ceremonies in which the traditions
of the tribal ancestors are dramatically set forth before him,
until, when he has passed through the last of the rites and
ordeals, he is free to behold and to take part in the whole
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page119" id="page119"></a>[pg 119]</span>
series of mystery plays or professedly historical dramas.
Sometimes the performance of these dramas extends over
two or three months, during which one or more of them are
acted daily.<a id="footnotetag148" name="footnotetag148"></a><a href="#footnote148"><sup>148</sup></a> For the most part, they are very short and
simple, each of them generally lasting only a few minutes,
though the costumes of the actors are often elaborate and
may have taken hours to prepare. I will describe a few of
them as samples.</p>

<p class="side">Ceremony of the Hakea flower totem.</p>

<p>We will begin with a ceremony of the Hakea flower
totem in the Arunta tribe, as to which it may be premised
that a decoction of the Hakea flower is a favourite drink of
the natives. The little drama was acted by two men, each
of whom was decorated on his bare body by broad bands of
pearly grey edged with white down, which passed round his
waist and over his shoulders, contrasting well with the
chocolate colour of his skin. On his head each of them
wore a kind of helmet made of twigs, and from their ears
hung tips of the tails of rabbit-bandicoots. The two sat on
the ground facing each other with a shield between them.
One of them held in his hand some twigs representing the
Hakea flower in bloom; these he pretended to steep in water
so as to brew the favourite beverage of the natives, and the
man sitting opposite him made believe to suck it up with a
little mop. Meantime the other men ran round and round
them shouting <i>wha! wha!</i> This was the substance of the
play, which ended as usual by several men placing their
hands on the shoulders of the performers as a signal to them
to stop.<a id="footnotetag149" name="footnotetag149"></a><a href="#footnote149"><sup>149</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Ceremony of a fish totem.</p>

<p>Again, to take another Arunta ceremony of a fish totem
called <i>interpitna</i>. The fish is the bony bream (<i>Chatoessus
horni</i>), which abounds in the water-holes of the country.
The play was performed by a single actor, an old man,
whose face was covered with a mass of white down contrasting
strongly with a large bunch of black eagle-hawk
feathers which he wore on his head. His body was decorated
with bands of charcoal edged with white down. Squatting
on the ground he moved his body and extended his arms
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page120" id="page120"></a>[pg 120]</span>
from his sides, opening and closing them as he leaned
forwards, so as to imitate a fish swelling itself out and
opening and closing its gills. Then, holding twigs in his
hands, he moved along mimicking the action of a man who
drives fish before him with a branch in a pool, just as the
natives do to catch the fish. Meantime an orchestra of four
men squatted beside him singing and beating time with a
stick on the ground.<a id="footnotetag150" name="footnotetag150"></a><a href="#footnote150"><sup>150</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Ceremony of a plum-tree totem.</p>

<p>Again, another Arunta ceremony of the plum-tree totem
was performed by four actors, who simply pretended to
knock down and eat imaginary plums from an imaginary
plum-tree.<a id="footnotetag151" name="footnotetag151"></a><a href="#footnote151"><sup>151</sup></a> An interesting point in this very simple drama
is that in it the men of the plum-tree totem are represented
eating freely of their totem, which is quite contrary to the
practice of the present day, but taken along with many
similar ceremonies it goes far to prove that in the ancient
days, to which all these dramatic ceremonies refer, it was the
regular practice for men and women of a totem to eat their
totemic animals or plants. As another example of a drama
in which the performers are represented eating their totem
we may take a ceremony of the ant totem in the Warramunga
tribe. The legendary personages who figure in it
are two women of the ant totem, ancestresses of the ant clan,
who are said to have devoted all their time to catching and
eating ants, except when they were engaged in the performance
of ceremonies. The two men who personated
these women in the drama (for no woman is allowed to
witness, much less to act in, these sacred dramas) had
the whole of the upper parts of their bodies, including
their faces and the cylindrical helmets which they wore on
their heads, covered with a dense mass of little specks of red
down. These specks stood for the ants, alive or dead, and
also for the stones and trees on the spots where the two
women encamped. In the drama the two actors thus
arrayed walked about the ground as if they were searching
for ants to eat. Each of them carried a wooden trough and
stooping down from time to time he turned over the ground
and picked up small stones which he placed in the trough
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page121" id="page121"></a>[pg 121]</span>
till it was full. The stones represented the masses of ants
which the women gathered for food. After carrying on this
pantomime for a time the two actors pretended to discover
each other with surprise and to embrace with joy, much to
the amusement of the spectators.<a id="footnotetag152" name="footnotetag152"></a><a href="#footnote152"><sup>152</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">In these ceremonies the action is appropriate to the totem.
Ceremony of the witchetty grub totem.</p>

<p>In all these ceremonies you will observe that the action
of the drama is strictly appropriate to the totem. In the
drama of the Hakea flower totem the actors pretend to
make and drink the beverage brewed from Hakea flowers;
in the ceremony of the fish totem the actor feigns to be a
fish and also to catch fish; in the ceremony of the plum-tree
totem the actors pretend to knock down and eat plums; and
in the ceremony of the ant totem the actors make believe
to gather ants for food. Similarly, to take a few more
examples, in a ceremony of the witchetty grub totem of the
Arunta tribe the body of the actor was decorated with lines
of white and red down, and he had a shield adorned with a
number of concentric circles of down. The smaller circles
represented the bush on which the grub lives first of all, and
the larger circles represented the bush on which the adult
insect lays its eggs. When all was ready, the performer
seated himself on the ground and imitated the grub, alternately
doubling himself up and rising on his knees, while he
extended his arms and made them quiver in imitation of the
insect's wings; and every now and then he would bend over
the shield and sway to and fro, and up and down, in imitation
of the insect hovering over the bushes on which it lays its
eggs.<a id="footnotetag153" name="footnotetag153"></a><a href="#footnote153"><sup>153</sup></a> In another ceremony of the witchetty grub totem, which
followed immediately the one I have just described, the actor
had two shields beside him. The smaller of the shields was
ornamented with zigzag lines of white pipe-clay which were
supposed to indicate the tracks of the grub; the larger shield
was covered with larger and smaller series of concentric
circles, the larger representing the seeds of a bush on which
the insect feeds, while the smaller stood for the eggs of the
adult insect. As before, the actor wriggled and flapped his
arms in imitation of the fluttering of the insect when it first
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page122" id="page122"></a>[pg 122]</span>
leaves its chrysalis case in the ground and attempts to fly.
In acting thus he was supposed to represent a celebrated
ancestor of the witchetty grub totem.<a id="footnotetag154" name="footnotetag154"></a><a href="#footnote154"><sup>154</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Ceremony of the emu totem.</p>

<p>The last example of such ceremonies which I shall cite
is one of the emu totem in the Arunta tribe. The body of
the actor was decorated with perpendicular lines of white
down reaching from his shoulders to his knees; and on his
head he supported a towering head-piece tipped with a
bunch of emu feathers in imitation of the neck and head of
an emu. Thus arrayed he stalked backwards and forwards
in the aimless fashion of the bird.<a id="footnotetag155" name="footnotetag155"></a><a href="#footnote155"><sup>155</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">These dramatic ceremonies were probably at first magical
rites intended to supply the people with food and other necessaries.</p>

<p>What are we to think of the intention of these little
dramas which the Central Australian aborigines regard as
sacred and to the performance of which they devote so
much time and labour? At first sight they are simply
commemorative services, designed to represent the ancestors
as they lived and moved in the far-past times, to recall
their adventures, of which legend has preserved the
memory, and to set them dramatically before the eyes
of their living descendants. So far, therefore, the dramas
might be described as purely historical in intention, if not in
reality. But there are reasons for thinking that in all cases
a deeper meaning underlies, or formerly underlay, the performance
of all these apparently simple historical plays; in
fact, we may suspect that originally they were all magical
ceremonies observed for the practical purpose of supplying
the people with food, water, sunshine, and everything else
of which they stand in need. This conclusion is suggested
first of all by the practice of the Arunta and other Central
Australian tribes, who observe very similar ceremonies with
the avowed intention of thereby multiplying the totemic
animals and plants in order that they may be eaten by the
tribe, though not by the particular clan which has these
animals or plants for its totem. It is true that the Arunta
distinguish these magical ceremonies for the multiplication of
the totems from what we may call the more purely commemorative
or historical performances, and they have a
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page123" id="page123"></a>[pg 123]</span>
special name for the former, namely <i>intichiuma</i>, which they
do not bestow on the latter. Yet these <i>intichiuma</i> or
magical ceremonies resemble the commemorative ceremonies
so closely that it is difficult to suppose they can always
have been wholly distinct. For example, in the magical
ceremonies for the multiplication of witchetty grubs the
performers pretend to be the insects emerging from their
chrysalis cases,<a id="footnotetag156" name="footnotetag156"></a><a href="#footnote156"><sup>156</sup></a> just as the actors do in the similar commemorative
ceremony which I have described; and again
in a magical ceremony for the multiplication of emus the
performers wear head-dresses to represent the long neck
and small head of the bird, and they mimic its gait,<a id="footnotetag157" name="footnotetag157"></a><a href="#footnote157"><sup>157</sup></a> exactly
as the actors do in the commemorative ceremony. It seems
reasonable, therefore, to conjecture that the ceremonies which
now are, or seem to be, purely commemorative or historical
were originally magical in intention, being observed for the
practical purpose of multiplying edible animals and plants
or supplying other wants of the tribe.</p>

<p class="side">Among the Warramunga these dramatic ceremonies are avowedly
performed as magical rites.</p>

<p>Now this conjecture is strongly confirmed by the actual
usage of the Warramunga tribe, amongst whom the commemorative
or historical dramas are avowedly performed as
magical rites: in other words, the Warramunga attribute a
magical virtue to the simple performance of such dramas: they
think that by merely acting the parts of their totemic ancestors
they thereby magically multiply the edible animals or plants
which these ancestors had for their totems. Hence in this
tribe the magical ceremonies and the dramatic performances
practically coincide: with them, as Messrs. Spencer and Gillen
say, the <i>intichiuma</i> or magical ceremonies (called by the
Warramunga <i>thalamminta</i>) "for the most part simply consist
in the performance of a complete series representing the
<i>alcheringa</i> history of the totemic ancestor.  In this tribe each
totemic group has usually one great ancestor, who arose in
some special spot and walked across the country, making
various natural features as he did so,&mdash;creeks, plains, ranges,
and water-holes,&mdash;and leaving behind him spirit individuals
who have since been reincarnated.  The <i>intichiuma</i> [or
magical] ceremony of the totem really consists in tracking
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page124" id="page124"></a>[pg 124]</span>
these ancestors' paths, and repeating, one after the other, ceremonies
commemorative of what are called the <i>mungai</i> spots,
the equivalent of the <i>oknanikilla</i> amongst the Arunta&mdash;that
is, the places where he left the spirit children behind."<a id="footnotetag158" name="footnotetag158"></a><a href="#footnote158"><sup>158</sup></a>
Apparently the Warramunga imagine that by imitating a
totemic ancestor at the very place where he left spirit children
of the same totem behind him, they thereby enable these
spirit children to be born again and so increase the food
supply, whenever their totem is an edible animal or plant;
for we must always remember that in the mind of these
savages the idea of a man or woman is inextricably confused
with the idea of his or her totem; they seem unable to distinguish
between the two, and therefore they believe that
in multiplying human beings at their local totemic centres
(<i>mungai</i> or <i>oknanikilla</i>) they simultaneously multiply their
totems; and as the totems are commonly edible animals
and plants, it follows that in the opinion of the Warramunga
the general effect of performing these ancestral plays is to
increase the supply of food of the tribe. No wonder, therefore,
that the dramas are sacred, and that the natives attribute
the most serious significance to their performance: the neglect
to perform them might, in their judgment, bring famine and
ruin on the whole tribe. As Messrs. Spencer and Gillen,
speaking of these ceremonies, justly observe: "Their proper
performance is a matter of very great importance in the eyes
of the natives, because, not only do they serve to keep alive
and hand down from generation to generation the traditions
of the tribe, but they are, at least amongst the Warramunga,
intimately associated with the most important object of maintaining
the food supply, as every totemic group is held
responsible for the maintenance of the material object the
name of which it bears."<a id="footnotetag159" name="footnotetag159"></a><a href="#footnote159"><sup>159</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">General view of the attitude of the Central Australian
natives towards their dead.</p>

<p>To sum up the attitude of the Central Australian natives
towards their dead. They believe that their dead are constantly
undergoing reincarnation by being born again of
women into the world, in fact that every living man, woman,
and child is nothing but a dead person come to life again,
that so it has been from the beginning and that so it will be
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page125" id="page125"></a>[pg 125]</span>
to the end. Of a special world of the departed, remote and
different from the material world in which they live and from
the familiar scenes to which they have been accustomed from
infancy, they have no conception; still less, if that is possible,
have they any idea of a division of the world of the dead
into a realm of bliss and a realm of woe, where the spirits of
the good live ineffably happy and the spirits of the bad live
unspeakably miserable. To their simple minds the spirits of
the dead dwell all about them in the rocky gorges, the barren
plains, the wooded dells, the rustling trees, the still waters of
their native land, haunting in death the very spots where they
last entered into their mothers' wombs to be born, and where
in future they will again enter into the wombs of other women
to be born again as other children into the world. And so,
they think, it will go on for ever and ever. Such a creed
seems at first sight, as I have pointed out, irreconcilable
with a worship of the dead in the proper sense of the word;
and so perhaps it would be, if these savages were strictly
consistent and logical in their theories. But they are not.
They admit that their remote ancestors, in other words, that
they themselves in former incarnations, possessed certain
marvellous powers to which in the present degenerate days
they can lay no claim; and in this significant admission we
may detect a rift, a real distinction of kind, between the living
and the dead, which in time might widen out into an impassable
gulf. In other words, we may suppose that the
Central Australians, if left to themselves, might come to hold
that the dead return no more to the land of the living, and
that, acknowledging as they do the vast superiority of their
remote ancestors to themselves, they might end by worshipping
them, at first simply as powerful ancestral spirits, and
afterwards as supernatural deities, whose original connexion
with humanity had been totally forgotten. In point of fact
we saw that among the Warramunga the mythical water-snake
Wollunqua, who is regarded as an ancestor of a
totemic clan, has made some progress towards deification;
for while he is still regarded as the forefather of the clan
which bears his name, it is no longer supposed that he is
born again of women into the world, but that he lives eternal
and invisible under the water of a haunted pool, and that he
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page126" id="page126"></a>[pg 126]</span>
has it in his power both to help and to harm his people, who
pray to him and perform ceremonies in his honour. This
awful being, whose voice is heard in the peal of thunder and
whose dreadful name may not be pronounced in common
life, is not far from godhead; at least he is apparently the
nearest approach to it which the imagination of these rude
savages has been able to conceive. Lastly, as I have pointed
out, the reverence which the Central Australians entertain
for their dead ancestors is closely bound up with their
totemism; they fail to distinguish clearly or at all between
men and their totems, and accordingly the ceremonies which
they perform to commemorate the dead are at the same time
magical rites designed to ensure an abundant supply of food
and of all the other necessaries and conveniences which
savage life requires or admits of; indeed, we may with some
probability conjecture that the magical intention of these
ceremonies is the primary and original one, and that the
commemorative intention is secondary and derivative. If
that could be proved to be so (which is hardly to be expected),
we should be obliged to conclude that in this as
in so many enquiries into the remote human past we detect
evidence of an Age of Magic preceding anything that deserves
to be dignified with the name of religion.</p>

<p>That ends what I have to say at present as to the belief
in immortality and the worship of the dead among the
Central Australian aborigines. In my next lecture I propose
to pursue the enquiry among the other tribes of
Australia.</p>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote137" name="footnote137"></a><b>Footnote 137:</b><a href="#footnotetag137"> (return) </a><p> Spencer and Gillen, <i>Northern Tribes of Central
Australia</i>, pp. 228 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote138" name="footnote138"></a><b>Footnote 138:</b><a href="#footnotetag138"> (return) </a><p> Spencer and Gillen, <i>Northern Tribes of Central
Australia</i>, pp. 229 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote139" name="footnote139"></a><b>Footnote 139:</b><a href="#footnotetag139"> (return) </a><p>Spencer and Gillen, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 230 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote140" name="footnote140"></a><b>Footnote 140:</b><a href="#footnotetag140"> (return) </a><p> Spencer and Gillen, <i>Northern Tribes of Central
Australia</i>, pp. 231-238.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote141" name="footnote141"></a><b>Footnote 141:</b><a href="#footnotetag141"> (return) </a><p>Spencer and Gillen, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 238.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote142" name="footnote142"></a><b>Footnote 142:</b><a href="#footnotetag142"> (return) </a><p>Spencer and Gillen, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 238 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote143" name="footnote143"></a><b>Footnote 143:</b><a href="#footnotetag143"> (return) </a><p> Spencer and Gillen, <i>Northern Tribes of Central
Australia</i>, pp. 239-247.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote144" name="footnote144"></a><b>Footnote 144:</b><a href="#footnotetag144"> (return) </a><p>Spencer and Gillen, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 248.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote145" name="footnote145"></a><b>Footnote 145:</b><a href="#footnotetag145"> (return) </a><p> "On the other hand there is a great difference between
the Wollunqua and any other totem, inasmuch as the particular animal is
purely mythical, and except for the one great progenitor of the totemic
group, is not supposed to exist at the present day" (Spencer and Gillen,
<i>Northern Tribes of Central Australia</i>, p. 248).</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote146" name="footnote146"></a><b>Footnote 146:</b><a href="#footnotetag146"> (return) </a><p> The <i>wingara</i> is the equivalent of the Arunta
<i>alcheringa</i>, that is, the earliest legendary or mythical times of
which the natives profess to have knowledge.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote147" name="footnote147"></a><b>Footnote 147:</b><a href="#footnotetag147"> (return) </a><p> Spencer and Gillen, <i>Northern Tribes of Central
Australia</i>, pp. 249 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote148" name="footnote148"></a><b>Footnote 148:</b><a href="#footnotetag148"> (return) </a><p> Spencer and Gillen, <i>Northern Tribes of Central
Australia</i>, pp. 33 <i>sq.</i>, 177 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote149" name="footnote149"></a><b>Footnote 149:</b><a href="#footnotetag149"> (return) </a><p> Spencer and Gillen, <i>Native Tribes
of Central Australia</i>, pp. 297 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote150" name="footnote150"></a><b>Footnote 150:</b><a href="#footnotetag150"> (return) </a><p> Spencer and Gillen, <i>Native Tribes
of Central Australia</i>, pp. 316 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote151" name="footnote151"></a><b>Footnote 151:</b><a href="#footnotetag151"> (return) </a><p>Spencer and Gillen, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 320.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote152" name="footnote152"></a><b>Footnote 152:</b><a href="#footnotetag152"> (return) </a><p> Spencer and Gillen, <i>Northern Tribes of Central
Australia</i>, pp. 199-204.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote153" name="footnote153"></a><b>Footnote 153:</b><a href="#footnotetag153"> (return) </a><p> Spencer and Gillen, <i>Northern Tribes of Central
Australia</i>, pp. 179 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote154" name="footnote154"></a><b>Footnote 154:</b><a href="#footnotetag154"> (return) </a><p> Spencer and Gillen, <i>Northern Tribes of Central
Australia</i>, pp. 179 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote155" name="footnote155"></a><b>Footnote 155:</b><a href="#footnotetag155"> (return) </a><p> Spencer and Gillen, <i>Native Tribes
of Central Australia</i>, pp. 358 <i>sq.</i>, and
p. 343, fig 73.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote156" name="footnote156"></a><b>Footnote 156:</b><a href="#footnotetag156"> (return) </a><p> Spencer and Gillen, <i>Native Tribes of Central
Australia</i>, p. 176.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote157" name="footnote157"></a><b>Footnote 157:</b><a href="#footnotetag157"> (return) </a><p>Spencer and Gillen, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 182 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote158" name="footnote158"></a><b>Footnote 158:</b><a href="#footnotetag158"> (return) </a><p> Spencer and Gillen, <i>Northern
Tribes of Central Australia</i>, p. 297.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote159" name="footnote159"></a><b>Footnote 159:</b><a href="#footnotetag159"> (return) </a><p> Spencer and Gillen, <i>Northern
Tribes of Central Australia</i>, p. 197.</p></blockquote>

<span class="pagenum"><a name="page127" id="page127"></a>[pg 127]</span>




<h2><a name="lecture-vi" id="lecture-vi"></a>LECTURE VI</h2>

<h3>THE BELIEF IN IMMORTALITY AMONG THE OTHER
ABORIGINES OF AUSTRALIA</h3>


<p class="side">Customs and beliefs concerning the dead in the other tribes
of Australia.</p>

<p>In the last lecture I concluded my account of the beliefs
and practices of the Central Australian aborigines in regard
to the dead. To-day I propose to consider the customs and
beliefs concerning the dead which prevail among the native
tribes in other parts of Australia. But at the outset I must
warn you that our information as to these other tribes is far
less full and precise than that which we possess as to the tribes
of the centre, which have had the great advantage of being
observed and described by two highly qualified scientific
observers, Messrs. Spencer and Gillen. Our knowledge of
all other Australian tribes is comparatively fragmentary, and
accordingly it is impossible to give even an approximately
complete view of their notions concerning the state of the
human spirit after death, and of the rites which they
observe for the purpose of disarming or propitiating the
souls of the departed. We must therefore content ourselves
with more or less partial glimpses of this side of native
religion.</p>

<p class="side">Belief in the reincarnation of the dead among the natives of
Queensland. The <i>ngai</i> spirits.</p>

<p>The first question we naturally ask is whether the belief
in the reincarnation of the dead, which prevails universally
among the Central tribes, reappears among tribes in other
parts of the continent. It certainly does so, and although the
evidence on this subject is very imperfect it suffices to raise
presumption that a similar belief in the rebirth or reincarnation
of the dead was formerly universal among the
Australian aborigines. Unquestionably the belief is entertained
by some of the natives of Queensland, who have been
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page128" id="page128"></a>[pg 128]</span>
described for us by Mr. W. E. Roth. Thus, for example,
the aborigines on the Pennefather River think that every
person's spirit undergoes a series of reincarnations, and that
in the interval between two reincarnations the spirit resides
in one or other of the haunts of Anjea, a mythical being who
causes conception in women by putting mud babies into
their bodies. Such spots, haunted by the fabulous being
Anjea and by the souls of the dead awaiting rebirth, may
be a tree, a rock, or a pool of water; they clearly correspond
to the local totem centres (<i>oknanikilla</i> among the
Arunta, <i>mungai</i> among the Warramunga) of the Central
Australian tribes which I described in former lectures. The
natives of the Pennefather River observe a ceremony at
the birth of a child in order to ascertain the exact spot
where its spirit tarried in the interval since its last incarnation;
and when they have discovered it they speak of the child
as obtained from a tree, a rock, or a pool of water, according
to the place from which its spirit is supposed to have passed
into its mother.<a id="footnotetag160" name="footnotetag160"></a><a href="#footnote160"><sup>160</sup></a> Readers of the classics can hardly fail to
be reminded of the Homeric phrase to be "born of an
oak or a rock,"<a id="footnotetag161" name="footnotetag161"></a><a href="#footnote161"><sup>161</sup></a> which seems to point to a similar belief in
the possibility of human souls awaiting reincarnation in the
boughs of an oak-tree or in the cleft of a rock. In the
opinion of the Pennefather natives all disembodied human
spirits or <i>choi</i>, as they call them, are mischief-makers and evildoers,
for they make people sick or crazy; but the medicine-men
can sometimes control them for good or evil. They
wander about in the bush, but there are certain hollow trees
or clumps of trees with wide-spreading branches, which they
most love to haunt, and they can be heard in the rustling
of the leaves or the crackling of the boughs at night.
Anjea himself, who puts babies into women, is never seen,
but you may hear him laughing in the depths of the forest,
among the rocks, in the lagoons, and along the mangrove
swamps; and when you hear his laugh you may be sure
that he has got a baby.<a id="footnotetag162" name="footnotetag162"></a><a href="#footnote162"><sup>162</sup></a> If a native happens to hurt
himself near a tree, he imagines that the spirit of some dead
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page129" id="page129"></a>[pg 129]</span>
person is lurking among the branches, and he will never
cut that tree down lest a worse thing should befall him at
the hands of the vengeful ghost.<a id="footnotetag163" name="footnotetag163"></a><a href="#footnote163"><sup>163</sup></a> A curious feature in the
beliefs of these Pennefather natives is that apart from the
spirit called <i>choi</i>, which lives in a disembodied state between
two incarnations, every person is supposed to have a spirit
of a different sort called <i>ngai</i>, which has its seat in the
heart; they feel it beating within their breast; it talks to
them in sleep and so is the cause of dreams. At death a
man's <i>ngai</i> spirit does not go away into the bush to await
reincarnation like his <i>choi</i> spirit; on the contrary, it passes
at once into his children, boys and girls alike; for before
their father's death children are supposed not to possess
a <i>ngai</i> spirit; if a child dies before its father, they think
that it never had a <i>ngai</i> spirit at all. And the <i>ngai</i> spirit
may leave a man in his lifetime as well as at death; for
example, when a person faints, the natives think that he does
so because his <i>ngai</i> spirit has departed from him, and they will
stamp on the ground to make it return. On the other hand
the <i>choi</i> spirit is supposed never to quit a man during life;
it is thought to be in some undefined way related to the
shadow, whereas the <i>ngai</i> spirit, as we saw, manifests itself
in the beating of the heart. When a woman dies, her <i>ngai</i>
spirit goes not into her children but into her sisters, one
after the other; and when all the sisters are dead, the
woman's <i>ngai</i> spirit goes away among the mangroves and
perishes altogether.<a id="footnotetag164" name="footnotetag164"></a><a href="#footnote164"><sup>164</sup></a></p>

<p>Thus these savages explain the phenomena of birth and
death, of conscious and unconscious life, by a theory of a
double human spirit, one associated with the heart and the
other with the shadow. The psychology is rudimentary,
still it is interesting as an attempt to solve problems which
still puzzle civilised man.</p>

<p class="side">Beliefs of the natives of Cape Bedford in Queensland.</p>

<p>Other Queensland aborigines associate the vital principle
not with the heart but with the breath. For example, at
Cape Bedford the natives call it <i>wau-wu</i> and think that it
never leaves the body sleeping or waking till death, when it
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page130" id="page130"></a>[pg 130]</span>
haunts its place of burial for a time and may communicate with
the living. Thus, like the ghost of Hamlet's father, it will
often appear to a near kinsman or intimate friend, tell him the
pitiful tale how he was done to death by an enemy, and urge
him to revenge. Again, the soul of a man's dead father or
friend may bear him company on a journey and, like the
beryl-stone in Rossetti's poem <i>Rose Mary</i>, warn him of an
ambuscade lurking for him in a spot where the man himself
sees nothing. But the spirits of the dead do not always come
with such friendly intent; they may drive the living distracted;
a peculiar form of mental excitement and bewilderment
is attributed to their action. Further, these aborigines
at Cape Bedford, in Queensland, believe that all spirits of
nature are in fact souls of the dead. Such spirits usually
leave their haunts in the forests and caves at night. Stout-hearted
old men can see and converse with them and receive
from them warnings of danger; but women and children
fear these spirits and never see them. But some spirits of
the dead, when they have ceased to haunt their places of
burial, go away eastward and are reincarnated in white
people; hence these savages often look for a resemblance to
some deceased tribesman among Europeans, and frequently
wonder why it is that the white man, on whom their fancy
has pitched, remembers nothing about his former life as a
black man among blacks.<a id="footnotetag165" name="footnotetag165"></a><a href="#footnote165"><sup>165</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Beliefs of the natives of the Tully River in Queensland.</p>

<p>The natives of the Tully River in Queensland associate
the principle of life both with the breath and with the
shadow. It departs from the body temporarily in sleep and
fainting-fits and permanently in death, after which it may be
heard at night tapping on the top of huts or creaking in the
branches of trees. It is everlasting, so far as these savages
have any idea of eternity, and further it is intangible; hence
in its disembodied state it needs no food, and none is set
out for it. The disposition of these disembodied spirits of
the dead is good or bad, according to their disposition in
life. Yet when a man is alone by himself, the spirit even of
one of his own dead kinsfolk will sometimes come and do him
a mischief. On the other hand it can do nothing to several
people together; there is safety in numbers. They may all
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page131" id="page131"></a>[pg 131]</span>
see and hear the ghost, but he will not attack them. Hence
these savages have been taught from childhood to beware of
going alone: solitary people are liable at any moment to be
assailed by the spirits of the dead. The only means they
know of warding off these ghostly assailants is by lighting
good fires.<a id="footnotetag166" name="footnotetag166"></a><a href="#footnote166"><sup>166</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Belief of the Australian aborigines that their dead are
reborn in white people.</p>

<p>I have mentioned the belief of the Cape Bedford natives
that the spirits of their dead are sometimes reincarnated in
white people. A similar notion is reported from other and
widely separated parts of Australia, and wherever it exists
may be taken as evidence of a general belief as to the
rebirth or reincarnation of the dead, even where such a belief
is not expressly recorded. This superstition has sometimes
proved of service to white people who have been cast among
the blacks, for it has ensured them a hospitable and even
affectionate welcome, where otherwise they might have
encountered suspicion and hostility, if not open violence.
Thus, for example, the convict Buckley, who escaped from
the penal settlement on Port Phillip Bay in 1803, was
found by some of the Wudthaurung tribe carrying a piece
of a broken spear, which he had abstracted from the grave
of one of their people. So they took him to be the dead
man risen from the grave; he received the name of the
deceased, was adopted by his relations, and lived with the
tribe for thirty-two years without ever conversing with a
white man; when at last he met one, he had forgotten the
English language.<a id="footnotetag167" name="footnotetag167"></a><a href="#footnote167"><sup>167</sup></a> Again, a Mr. Naseby, who lived in the
Kamilaroi country for fifty years, happened to have the
marks of cupping on his back, and the natives could not be
persuaded that he was not one of themselves come to life
again with the family scars on his body,<a id="footnotetag168" name="footnotetag168"></a><a href="#footnote168"><sup>168</sup></a> for the Australian
aborigines commonly raise scars on the bodies of young
men at initiation. The late Sir George Grey was identified
by an old Australian woman as her dead son come to
life again.  It may be worth while to quote his account
of this unlooked-for meeting with his long-lost mother; for
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page132" id="page132"></a>[pg 132]</span>
it will impress on you, better than any words of mine could
do, the firmness of the faith which these savages repose in the
resurrection of the body, or at all events in the reincarnation
of the soul. Grey writes as follows:&mdash;</p>

<p class="side">Experience of Sir George Grey.</p>

<p>"After we had tethered the horses, and made ourselves
tolerably comfortable, we heard loud voices from
the hills above us: the effect was fine,&mdash;for they really
almost appeared to float in the air; and as the wild cries of
the women, who knew not our exact position, came by upon
the wind, I thought it was well worth a little trouble to hear
these savage sounds under such circumstances. Our guides
shouted in return, and gradually the approaching cries came
nearer and nearer. I was, however, wholly unprepared for
the scene that was about to take place. A sort of procession
came up, headed by two women, down whose cheeks tears
were streaming. The eldest of these came up to me, and
looking for a moment at me, said,&mdash;'<i>Gwa, gwa, bundo, bal</i>,'&mdash;'Yes,
yes, in truth it is him'; and then throwing her
arms round me, cried bitterly, her head resting on my
breast; and although I was totally ignorant of what their
meaning was, from mere motives of compassion, I offered no
resistance to her caresses, however disagreeable they might
be, for she was old, ugly, and filthily dirty; the other
younger one knelt at my feet, also crying. At last the
old lady, emboldened by my submission, deliberately kissed
me on each cheek, just in the manner a Frenchwoman
would have done; she then cried a little more, and at length
relieving me, assured me that I was the ghost of her son,
who had some time before been killed by a spear-wound in
his breast. The younger female was my sister; but she,
whether from motives of delicacy, or from any imagined
backwardness on my part, did not think proper to kiss me.
My new mother expressed almost as much delight at my
return to my family, as my real mother would have done,
had I been unexpectedly restored to her. As soon as she
left me, my brothers, and father (the old man who had
previously been so frightened), came up and embraced me
after their manner,&mdash;that is, they threw their arms round my
waist, placed their right knee against my right knee, and
their breast against my breast, holding me in this way for
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page133" id="page133"></a>[pg 133]</span>
several minutes. During the time that the ceremony lasted,
I, according to the native custom, preserved a grave and
mournful expression of countenance. This belief, that white
people are the souls of departed blacks, is by no means an
uncommon superstition amongst them; they themselves never
having an idea of quitting their own land, cannot imagine
others doing it;&mdash;and thus, when they see white people suddenly
appear in their country, and settling themselves down
in particular spots, they imagine that they must have formed
an attachment for this land in some other state of existence;
and hence conclude the settlers were at one period black
men and their own relations. Likenesses, whether real or
imagined, complete the delusion; and from the manner of
the old woman I have just alluded to, from her many
tears, and from her warm caresses, I feel firmly convinced
that she really believed I was her son, whose first thought,
upon his return to earth, had been to re-visit his old mother,
and bring her a present."<a id="footnotetag169" name="footnotetag169"></a><a href="#footnote169"><sup>169</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">In South-eastern Australia the natives believed that the
souls of the dead were not reborn but went up to the sky.</p>

<p>On the whole then we may conclude that a belief
in the reincarnation of the dead has not been confined
to the tribes of Central Australia, but has been held by
the tribes in many, perhaps at one time in all, other
parts of the continent. Yet, if we may judge from the
imperfect records which we possess, this faith in the
return of the dead to life in human form would seem
to have given way and been replaced to some extent by
a different creed among many tribes of South-eastern
Australia. In this part of the continent it appears to have
been often held by the natives that after death the soul is
not born again among men, but goes away for ever to
some distant country either in the sky or beyond the sea,
where all the spirits of the dead congregate. Thus
Lieutenant-Colonel Collins, who was Governor of New
South Wales in the early days of the colony, at the end of
the eighteenth century, reports that when the natives were
often questioned "as to what became of them after their
decease, some answered that they went either on or beyond
the great water; but by far the greater number signified,
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page134" id="page134"></a>[pg 134]</span>
that they went to the clouds."<a id="footnotetag170" name="footnotetag170"></a><a href="#footnote170"><sup>170</sup></a>  Again, the Narrinyeri tribe
of South Australia believed that all the dead went up to the
sky and that some of them at least became stars. We
possess an excellent description of the beliefs and customs
of this tribe from the pen of a missionary, the Rev. George
Taplin, who lived among them for many years. His account
of their theory of the state of the dead is instructive. It
runs thus:&mdash;</p>

<p class="side">Beliefs of the Narrinyeri concerning the dead.</p>

<p>"The Narrinyeri point out several stars, and say that
they are deceased warriors who have gone to heaven
(<i>Wyirrewarre</i>). There are Wyungare, and Nepalle, and the
Manchingga, and several others. Every native expects to
go to <i>Wyirrewarre</i> after death. They also believe that the
dead descend from thence, and walk the earth; and that
they are able to injure those whom they dislike. Consequently,
men who have been notorious in life for a
domineering and revengeful disposition are very much
dreaded after death. For instance, there is Karungpe, who
comes in the dead of night, when the camp fire has
burned low, and like a rushing wind scatters the dying
embers, and then takes advantage of the darkness to rob
some sleeper of life; and it is considered dangerous to
whistle in the dark, for Karungpe is especially attracted
by a whistle. There is another restless spirit&mdash;the deceased
father of a boy whom I well know&mdash;who is said to rove
about armed with a rope, with which he catches people.
All the Narrinyeri, old and young, are dreadfully afraid of
seeing ghosts, and none of them will venture into the scrub
after dark, lest he should encounter the spirits which are
supposed to roam there. I have heard some admirable
specimens of ghost stories from them. In one case I
remember the ghost was represented to have set fire to a
<i>wurley</i> [hut], and ascended to heaven in the flame. The
Narrinyeri regard the disapprobation of the spirits of the
dead as a thing to be dreaded; and if a serious quarrel takes
place between near relatives, some of the friends are sure to
interpose with entreaties to the contentious parties to be
reconciled, lest the spirits of the dead should be offended
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page135" id="page135"></a>[pg 135]</span>
at unseemly disputes between those who ought to be at
peace. The name of the dead must not be mentioned until
his body has decayed, lest a want of sorrow should seem to
be indicated by the common and flippant use of his name.
A native would have the deceased believe that he cannot
hear or speak his name without weeping."<a id="footnotetag171" name="footnotetag171"></a><a href="#footnote171"><sup>171</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Narrinyeri fear of the dead. Mourning customs.</p>

<p>From this account it would appear that the Narrinyeri
have no belief in the reincarnation of the dead; they
suppose that the souls of the departed live up aloft in the
sky, from which they descend at night in the form of
ghosts to haunt and trouble the living. On the whole
the attitude of the Narrinyeri towards their dead kinsfolk
seems to be dominated by fear; of affection there is
apparently little or no trace. It is true that like most
Australian tribes they indulge in extravagant demonstrations
of grief at the death of their kinsfolk. A great lamentation
and wailing is made by all the relations and friends of the
deceased. They cut off their hair close to the head and
besmudge themselves with oil and pounded charcoal. The
women besmear themselves with the most disgusting filth.
All beat and cut themselves and make a violent show of
sorrow; and all the time that the corpse, rubbed over with
grease and red ochre, is being dried over a slow fire in the
hut, the women take it by turns to weep and wail before it,
so that the lamentation never ceases for days. Yet Mr.
Taplin was persuaded "that fear has more to do with most
of these exhibitions than grief"; and he tells us that "for
one minute a woman will appear in the deepest agony of
grief and tears; a few minutes after, the conventional amount
of weeping having been accomplished, they will laugh and
talk with the merriest."<a id="footnotetag172" name="footnotetag172"></a><a href="#footnote172"><sup>172</sup></a> The principal motive, in fact, for
all this excessive display of sorrow would seem to be a fear
lest the jealous ghost should think himself slighted and
should avenge the slight on the cold-hearted relatives who
do not mourn sufficiently for the irreparable loss they have
sustained by his death. We may conjecture that the same
train of thought explains the ancient and widespread
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page136" id="page136"></a>[pg 136]</span>
custom of hiring professional mourners to wail over the
dead; the tears and lamentations of his kinsfolk are not
enough to soothe the wounded feelings of the departed, they
must be reinforced by noisier expressions of regret.</p>

<p class="side">Deaths attributed by the Narrinyeri to sorcery.</p>

<p>But there is another powerful motive for all these
violent demonstrations of grief, into the secret of which we
are let by Mr. Taplin. He says that "all the relatives
are careful to be present and not to be wanting in the
proper signs of sorrow, lest they should be suspected
of complicity in causing the death."<a id="footnotetag173" name="footnotetag173"></a><a href="#footnote173"><sup>173</sup></a> In fact the Narrinyeri,
like many other savages, attribute all, or most,
natural deaths to sorcery. When a person dies, they think
that he or she has been killed by the evil magic of some ill-wisher,
and one of the first things to be done is to discover
the culprit in order that his life may be taken in revenge.
For this purpose the Narrinyeri resort to a form of divination.
On the first night after the death the nearest relation
of the deceased sleeps with his head on the corpse, hoping
thus to dream of the sorcerer who has done the mischief.
Next day the corpse is placed on a sort of bier supported on
men's shoulders. The friends of the deceased gather round
and call out the names of suspected persons to see whether
the corpse will give any sign. At last the next of kin calls
out the name of the person of whom he has dreamed, and if
at the sound the corpse makes a movement towards him,
which the bearers say they cannot resist, it is regarded as a
clear token that the man so named is the malefactor. It
only remains for the kinsfolk of the dead to hunt down the
culprit and kill him.<a id="footnotetag174" name="footnotetag174"></a><a href="#footnote174"><sup>174</sup></a> Thus not only the relations but everybody
in the neighbourhood has the strongest motive for
assuming at least an appearance of sorrow at a death, lest
the suspicion of having caused it by sorcery should fall upon
him.</p>

<p class="side">Pretence made by the Narrinyeri of avenging the death of
their friends on the guilty sorcerer.</p>

<p>It deserves to be noted, that while the Narrinyeri
nominally acknowledged the duty of killing the sorcerer
who in their opinion had caused the death of their friend,
they by no means always discharged the duty, but sometimes
contented themselves with little more than a pretence
of revenge. Mr. Taplin's account of the proceedings observed
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page137" id="page137"></a>[pg 137]</span>
on such an occasion is instructive. It runs thus:
"The spirit of the dead is not considered to have been
appeased until his relatives have avenged his death. They
will kill the sorcerer who has caused it if they can catch
him; but generally they cannot catch him, and often do
not wish it. Most probably he belongs to some other tribe
of the Narrinyeri. Messengers pass between the tribes
relative to the affair, and the friends of the accused person
at last formally curse the dead man and all his dead
relatives. This constitutes a <i>casus belli</i>. Arrangements are
forthwith made for a pitched battle, and the two tribes meet
in company with their respective allies. The tribe to which
the dead man belongs weep and make a great lamentation
for him, and the opposing tribe sets some fellows to dance
about and play antics in derision of their enemies. Then
the whole tribe will set up a great laugh by way of further
provocation. If there is any other cause of animosity
between the tribes besides the matter of avenging the dead
there will now be a pretty severe fight with spears. If,
however, the tribes have nothing but the dead man to fight
about, they will probably throw a few spears, indulge in
considerable abuse of each other, perhaps one or two will
get slightly wounded, and then some of the old men will
declare that enough has been done. The dead man is considered
to have been appeased by the efforts of his friends
to avenge his death by fighting, and the two tribes are
friendly again. In such a case the fight is a mere ceremony."<a id="footnotetag175" name="footnotetag175"></a><a href="#footnote175"><sup>175</sup></a>
Thus among the Narrinyeri the duty of blood
revenge was often supposed to be sufficiently discharged by
a sham fight performed apparently for the satisfaction of
the ghost, who was supposed to be looking on and to be
gratified by the sight of his friends hurling spears at the
author of his death. Merciful pretences of the same sort
have been practised by other savages in order to satisfy the
vengeful ghost without the effusion of blood. Examples of
them will come before us later on.<a id="footnotetag176" name="footnotetag176"></a><a href="#footnote176"><sup>176</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Magical virtue ascribed to the hair of the dead.</p>

<p>However, the attitude of the Narrinyeri towards their
dead was not purely one of fear and aversion. They
imagined that they could derive certain benefits from their
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page138" id="page138"></a>[pg 138]</span>
departed kinsfolk, and the channel through which these
benefits flowed was furnished by their hair. They cut off
the hair of the dead and spun it into a cord, and this cord
was commonly worn by the men as a head-band. They
said that thereby they "smelled the dead," and that the
smell made their eyes large and their sight keen, so that in
a fight they could see the spears coming and could parry or
avoid them.<a id="footnotetag177" name="footnotetag177"></a><a href="#footnote177"><sup>177</sup></a> Similar magical virtues are ascribed to the
hair of the dead by the Arunta. Among them the hair of
a dead man is cut off and made into a magic girdle, which
is a valued possession and is only worn when a man is
going out to engage in a tribal fight or to stalk a foe for
the purpose of destroying him by witchcraft. The girdle is
supposed to be endowed with magic power and to impart
to its possessor all the warlike qualities of the dead man
from whose hair it was made; in particular, it is thought to
ensure accuracy of aim in the wearer, while at the same
time it destroys that of his adversary.<a id="footnotetag178" name="footnotetag178"></a><a href="#footnote178"><sup>178</sup></a> Hence the girdle is
worn by the man who takes the lead in avenging the death
of the deceased on his supposed murderer; the mere sight
of it, they think, so terrifies the victim that his legs tremble
under him, he becomes incapable of fighting, and is easily
speared.<a id="footnotetag179" name="footnotetag179"></a><a href="#footnote179"><sup>179</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Belief that the souls of the dead go up to the sky.</p>

<p>Among the tribes of South-eastern Australia the
Narrinyeri were not alone in holding the curious belief
that the souls of the dead go up into the sky to live
there for ever, but that their ghosts come down again from
time to time, roam about their old haunts on earth, and
communicate with the living. This, for example, was the
belief of the Dieri, the Buandik, the Kurnai, and the Kulin
tribes.<a id="footnotetag180" name="footnotetag180"></a><a href="#footnote180"><sup>180</sup></a> The Buandik thought that everything in skyland
was better than on earth; a fat kangaroo, for example, was
compared to a kangaroo of heaven, where, of course, the
animals might be expected to abound.<a id="footnotetag181" name="footnotetag181"></a><a href="#footnote181"><sup>181</sup></a> The Kulin imagined
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page139" id="page139"></a>[pg 139]</span>
that the spirits of the dead ascended to heaven by the bright
rays of the setting sun.<a id="footnotetag182" name="footnotetag182"></a><a href="#footnote182"><sup>182</sup></a> The Wailwun natives in New
South Wales used to bury their dead in hollow trees, and
when they dropped the body into its place, the bearers and
the bystanders joined in a loud whirring sound, like the rush
of the wind. They said that this represented the upward
flight of the soul to the sky.<a id="footnotetag183" name="footnotetag183"></a><a href="#footnote183"><sup>183</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Appearance of the dead to the living, especially in dreams.</p>

<p>With regard to the ghosts on earth, some tribes of
South-eastern Australia believe that they can be seen by
the living, can partake of food, and can warm themselves
at a fire. It is especially the graves, where their mouldering
bodies are deposited, that these restless spirits are supposed
to haunt; it is there that they shew themselves either
to people generally or to such as have the second
sight.<a id="footnotetag184" name="footnotetag184"></a><a href="#footnote184"><sup>184</sup></a> But it is most commonly in dreams that they
appear to the living and hold communication with them.
Often these communications are believed to be helpful.
Thus the tribes of the Wotjobaluk nation thought that the
ghosts of their dead relations could visit them in sleep to
protect them. A Mukjarawaint man told Dr. Howitt that
his father came to him in a dream and warned him to beware
or he would be killed. This, the man believed, was the
saving of his life; for he afterwards came to the place which
he had seen in his dream; whereupon, instead of going on,
he turned back, so that his enemies, who might have been
waiting for him there, did not catch him.<a id="footnotetag185" name="footnotetag185"></a><a href="#footnote185"><sup>185</sup></a> Another man
informed Dr. Howitt that his dead uncle appeared to him in
sleep and taught him charms against sickness and other
evils; and the Chepara tribe similarly believed that male
ancestors visited sleepers and imparted to them charms to
avert evil magic.<a id="footnotetag186" name="footnotetag186"></a><a href="#footnote186"><sup>186</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Savage faith in the truth of dreams. Association of the stars
with the souls of the dead.</p>

<p>Such notions follow naturally from the savage theory
of dreams.  Almost all savages appear to believe firmly
in the truth of dreams; they fail to draw the distinction,
which to us seems obvious, between the imaginary creations
of the mind in sleep and the waking realities of the
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page140" id="page140"></a>[pg 140]</span>
physical world. Whatever they dream of must, they think,
be actually existing; for have they not seen it with their
own eyes? To argue that the visions of sleep have no real
existence is, therefore, in their opinion, to argue against the
plain evidence of their senses; and they naturally treat
such exaggerated scepticism with incredulity and contempt.
Hence when they dream of their dead friends and relations
they necessarily conclude that these persons are still alive
somewhere and somehow, though they do not commonly
appear by daylight to people in their waking hours. Unquestionably
this savage faith in the reality of dreams has
been one of the principal sources of the widespread, almost
universal, belief in the survival of the human soul after death.
It explains why ghosts are supposed to appear rather by
night than by day, since it is chiefly by night that men sleep
and dream dreams. Perhaps it may also partly account for
the association of the stars with the souls of the dead. For
if the dead appear to the living mainly in the hours of darkness,
it seems not unnatural to imagine that the bright
points of light which then bespangle the canopy of heaven
are either the souls of the departed or fires kindled by them
in their home aloft. For example, the Central Australian
aborigines commonly suppose the stars to be the camp-fires
of natives who live on the banks of the great river which we
civilised men, by a survival of primitive mythology, call the
Milky Way. However, these rude savages, we are told,
as a general rule "appear to pay very little attention to the
stars in detail, probably because they enter very little into
anything which is connected with their daily life, and more
especially with their food supply."<a id="footnotetag187" name="footnotetag187"></a><a href="#footnote187"><sup>187</sup></a> The same observation
which Messrs. Spencer and Gillen here make as to the
natives of Central Australia might be applied to most
savages who have remained in the purely hunting stage of
social development. Such men are not much addicted to
star-gazing, since the stars have little or nothing to tell them
that they wish to know. It is not till people have betaken
themselves to sowing and reaping crops that they begin to
scan the heavens more carefully in order to determine the
season of sowing by observation of the great celestial
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page141" id="page141"></a>[pg 141]</span>
time-keepers, the rising and setting of certain constellations,
above all, apparently, of the Pleiades.<a id="footnotetag188" name="footnotetag188"></a><a href="#footnote188"><sup>188</sup></a> In short, the rise of
agriculture favours the rise of astronomy.</p>

<p class="side">Creed of the South-eastern Australians touching the dead.</p>

<p>But to return to the ideas of the Australian aborigines
concerning the dead, we may say of the natives of the
south-eastern part of the continent, in the words of Dr.
Howitt, that "there is a universal belief in the existence of
the human spirit after death, as a ghost, which is able to
communicate with the living when they sleep. It finds its
way to the sky-country, where it lives in a land like the
earth, only more fertile, better watered, and plentifully supplied
with game."<a id="footnotetag189" name="footnotetag189"></a><a href="#footnote189"><sup>189</sup></a> This belief is very different from that
of the Central Australian natives, who think that the souls
of the dead tarry on earth in their old familiar haunts until
the time comes for them to be born again into the world.
Of the two different creeds that of the south-eastern tribes
may be regarded as the more advanced, since it admits that
the dead do not return to life, and that their disembodied
spirits do not haunt perpetually a multitude of spiritual
parks or reservations dotted over the face of the country.</p>

<p class="side">The creed seems to form part of a general advance of culture
in this part of the continent.</p>

<p>But how are we to account for this marked difference
of belief between the natives of the Centre and the natives
of the South-east? Perhaps the most probable explanation
is that the creed of the south-eastern tribes in this
respect is part of a general advance of culture brought
about by the more favourable natural conditions under which
they live as compared with the forlorn state of the rude
inhabitants of the Central deserts. That advance of culture
manifests itself in a variety of ways. On the material side
it is seen in more substantial and permanent dwellings and
in warmer and better clothing. On the social side it is seen
in an incipient tendency to the rise of a regular chieftainship,
a thing which is quite unknown among the democratic or
rather oligarchic savages of the Centre, who are mainly
governed by the old men in council.<a id="footnotetag190" name="footnotetag190"></a><a href="#footnote190"><sup>190</sup></a>  But the rise of
chieftainship is a great step in political progress; since a
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page142" id="page142"></a>[pg 142]</span>
monarchical government of some sort appears to be essential
to the emergence of mankind from savagery. On the whole,
then, the beliefs of the South-eastern Australian aborigines
seem to mark a step on the upward road towards civilisation.</p>

<p class="side">Possible influence of European teaching on native beliefs.</p>

<p>At the same time we must not forget that these beliefs
may have been influenced by the lessons which they have
learned from white settlers with whom in this part of
Australia they have been so long in contact. The possibility
of such a transfusion of the new wine of Europe into the old
bottles of Australia did not escape the experienced Mr.
James Dawson, an early settler in Victoria, who has given
us a valuable account of the natives of that region in the
old days when they were still comparatively little contaminated
by intercourse with the whites. He describes as
follows the views which prevailed as to the dead among the
tribes of Western Victoria:&mdash;"After the disposal of the body
of a good person, its shade walks about for three days; and
although it appears to people, it holds no communication
with them. Should it be seen and named by anyone during
these three days, it instantly disappears. At the expiry of
three days it goes off to a beautiful country above the clouds,
abounding with kangaroo and other game, where life will be
enjoyed for ever. Friends will meet and recognize each
other there; but there will be no marrying, as the bodies
have been left on earth. Children under four or five years
have no souls and no future life. The shades of the wicked
wander miserably about the earth for one year after death,
frightening people, and then descend to Ummekulleen,
never to return." After giving us this account of the
native creed Mr. Dawson adds very justly: "Some of
the ideas described above may possibly have originated
with the white man, and been transmitted from Sydney
by one tribe to another."<a id="footnotetag191" name="footnotetag191"></a><a href="#footnote191"><sup>191</sup></a> The probability of white
influence on this particular doctrine of religion is increased
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page143" id="page143"></a>[pg 143]</span>
by the frank confession which these same natives made of
the religious deterioration (as they regarded it) which they
had suffered in another direction through the teaching of the
missionaries. On this subject, to quote again from Mr.
Dawson, the savages are of opinion that "the good spirit,
Pirnmeheeal, is a gigantic man, living above the clouds;
and as he is of a kindly disposition, and harms no one, he is
seldom mentioned, but always with respect. His voice, the
thunder, is listened to with pleasure, as it does good to man
and beast, by bringing rain, and making grass and roots
grow for their benefit. But the aborigines say that the
missionaries and government protectors have given them a
dread of Pirnmeheeal; and they are sorry that the young
people, and many of the old, are now afraid of a being who
never did any harm to their forefathers."<a id="footnotetag192" name="footnotetag192"></a><a href="#footnote192"><sup>192</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Vagueness and inconsistency of native beliefs as to the state
of the dead. Custom or ritual as the interpreter of belief.</p>

<p>However, it is very difficult to ascertain the exact beliefs
of savages as to the dead. The thought of the savage is
apt to be vague and inconsistent; he neither represents his
ideas clearly to his own mind nor can he express them
lucidly to others, even if he wishes to do so. And his
thought is not only vague and inconsistent; it is fluid and
unstable, liable to shift and change under alien influence.
For these and other reasons, such as the distrust of strangers
and the difficulty of language, which often interposes a
formidable barrier between savage man and the civilised
enquirer, the domain of primitive beliefs is beset by so
many snares and pitfalls that we might almost despair of
arriving at the truth, were it not that we possess a clue to
guide us on the dark and slippery way.  That clue is
action. While it is generally very difficult to ascertain
what any man thinks, it is comparatively easy to ascertain
what he does; and what a man does, not what he
says, is the surest touchstone to his real belief. Hence
when we attempt to study the religion of backward races,
the ritual which they practise is generally a safer indication
of their actual creed than the loudest profession of faith.
In regard to the state of the human soul after death the
beliefs of the Australian aborigines are clearly reflected in
many of the customs which they observe at the death and
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page144" id="page144"></a>[pg 144]</span>
burial of their friends and enemies, and it is accordingly
with an account of some of these customs that I propose to
conclude this part of my subject.</p>

<p class="side">Burial customs of the Australian aborigines as evidence of
their beliefs concerning the state of the soul after death. Food placed
on the grave for the use of the ghost and fires kindled to warm him.</p>

<p>Now some of the burial customs observed by the
Australian savages reveal in the clearest manner their
belief that the human soul survives the death of the body,
that in its disembodied state it retains consciousness and
feeling, and can do a mischief to the living; in short, they
shew that in the opinion of these people the departed live
in the form of dangerous ghosts. Thus, for example, when
the deceased is a person of importance, the Dieri place food
for many days on the grave, and in winter they kindle a
fire in order that the ghost may warm himself at it. If the
food remains untouched on the grave, they think that the
dead is not hungry.<a id="footnotetag193" name="footnotetag193"></a><a href="#footnote193"><sup>193</sup></a> The Blanch-water section of that
tribe fear the spirits of the dead and accordingly take steps
to prevent their resurrection. For that purpose they tie
the toes of the corpse together and the thumbs behind the
back, which must obviously make it difficult for the dead
man to arise in his might and pursue them. Moreover, for
a month after the death they sweep a clear space round
the grave at dusk every evening, and inspect it every
morning. If they find any tracks on it, they assume that
they have been made by the restless ghost in his nocturnal
peregrinations, and accordingly they dig up his mouldering
remains and bury them in some other place, where they
hope he will sleep sounder.<a id="footnotetag194" name="footnotetag194"></a><a href="#footnote194"><sup>194</sup></a> The Kukata tribe think that
the ghost may be thirsty, so they obligingly leave a drinking
vessel on the grave, that he may slake his thirst. Also
they deposit spears and other weapons on the spot, together
with a digging-stick, which is specially intended to ward
off evil spirits who may be on the prowl.<a id="footnotetag195" name="footnotetag195"></a><a href="#footnote195"><sup>195</sup></a> The ghosts of
the natives on the Maranoa river were also thirsty souls,
so vessels full of water were sometimes suspended for their
use over the grave.<a id="footnotetag196" name="footnotetag196"></a><a href="#footnote196"><sup>196</sup></a> A custom of lighting a fire on the
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page145" id="page145"></a>[pg 145]</span>
grave to warm the poor shivering ghost seems to have
been not uncommon among the aboriginal Australians.
The Western Victorians, for example, kept up large fires
all night for this purpose.<a id="footnotetag197" name="footnotetag197"></a><a href="#footnote197"><sup>197</sup></a> In the Wiimbaio tribe two
fires were kept burning for a whole month on the grave,
one to the right and the other to the left, in order that the
ghost might come out and warm himself at them in the
chill night air. If they found tracks near the grave, they
inferred, like the Dieri, that the perturbed spirit had quitted
his narrow bed to pace to and fro in the long hours of
darkness; but if no footprints were visible they thought
that he slept in peace.<a id="footnotetag198" name="footnotetag198"></a><a href="#footnote198"><sup>198</sup></a> In some parts of Western Australia
the natives maintained fires on the grave for more than a
month for the convenience of the ghost; and they clearly
expected him to come to life again, for they detached the
nails from the thumb and forefinger of the corpse and
deposited them in a small hole beside the grave, in order
that they might know their friend at his resurrection.<a id="footnotetag199" name="footnotetag199"></a><a href="#footnote199"><sup>199</sup></a> The
length of time during which fires were maintained or
kindled daily on the grave is said to have varied, according
to the estimation in which the man was held, from a few
days to three or four years.<a id="footnotetag200" name="footnotetag200"></a><a href="#footnote200"><sup>200</sup></a> We have seen that the Dieri
laid food on the grave for the hungry ghost to partake of,
and the same custom was observed by the Gournditch-mara
tribe.<a id="footnotetag201" name="footnotetag201"></a><a href="#footnote201"><sup>201</sup></a> However, some intelligent old aborigines of Western
Victoria derided the custom as "white fellow's gammon."<a id="footnotetag202" name="footnotetag202"></a><a href="#footnote202"><sup>202</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Property of the dead buried with them.</p>

<p>Further, in some tribes of South-eastern Australia it
was customary to deposit the scanty property of the
deceased, usually consisting of a few rude weapons or
implements, on the grave or to bury it with him. Thus
the natives of Western Victoria buried all a dead man's ornaments,
weapons, and property with him in the grave, only
reserving his stone axes, which were too valuable to be thus
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page146" id="page146"></a>[pg 146]</span>
sacrificed: these were inherited by the next of kin.<a id="footnotetag203" name="footnotetag203"></a><a href="#footnote203"><sup>203</sup></a> The
Wurunjerri also interred the personal property of the dead
with him; if the deceased was a man, his spear-thrower
was stuck in the ground at the head of the grave; if
the deceased was a woman, the same thing was done with
her digging-stick. That these implements were intended
for the use of the ghost and not merely as headstones
to mark the situation of the tomb and the sex of the
departed, is clear from a significant exception to the custom.
When the departed brother was a man of violent temper,
who had been quarrelsome and a brawler in his life, no
weapons were buried with him, obviously lest in a fit of
ill-temper he should sally from the grave and assault
people with them.<a id="footnotetag204" name="footnotetag204"></a><a href="#footnote204"><sup>204</sup></a> Similarly the Turrbal tribe, who
deposited their dead in the forks of trees, used to leave
a spear and club near the corpse "that the spirit of the
dead might have weapons wherewith to kill game for his
sustenance in the future state. A yam-stick was placed in
the ground at a woman's grave, so that she might go away
at night and seek for roots."<a id="footnotetag205" name="footnotetag205"></a><a href="#footnote205"><sup>205</sup></a> The Wolgal tribe were very
particular about burying everything that belonged to a
dead man with him; spears and nets, though valuable
articles of property, were thus sacrificed; even a canoe has
been known to be cut up in order that the pieces of it
might be deposited in the grave. In fact "everything
belonging to a dead man was put out of sight."<a id="footnotetag206" name="footnotetag206"></a><a href="#footnote206"><sup>206</sup></a> Similarly
in the Geawe-gal tribe all the implements and inanimate
property of a warrior were interred with him.<a id="footnotetag207" name="footnotetag207"></a><a href="#footnote207"><sup>207</sup></a> In the
Gringai country not only was all a man's property buried
with him, but every native present at the burial contributed
something, and these contributions were piled together at
the head of the corpse before the grave was filled in.<a id="footnotetag208" name="footnotetag208"></a><a href="#footnote208"><sup>208</sup></a>
Among the tribes of Southern Victoria, when the grave
has been dug and lined with fresh leaves and twigs so as
to make a soft bed, the dead man's property is brought in
two bags, and the sorcerer shakes out the contents. They
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page147" id="page147"></a>[pg 147]</span>
consist of such small articles as pieces of hard stone suitable
for cutting or paring skins, bones for boring holes, twine
made of opossum wool, and so forth. These are placed in
the grave, and the bags and rugs of the deceased are torn
up and thrown in likewise. Then the sorcerer asks whether
the dead man had any other property, and if he had, it is
brought forward and laid beside the torn fragments of the
bags and rugs. Everything that a man owned in life must
be laid beside him in death.<a id="footnotetag209" name="footnotetag209"></a><a href="#footnote209"><sup>209</sup></a> Again, among the tribes of
the Lower Murray, Lachlan, and Darling rivers in New
South Wales, all a dead man's property, including his
weapons and nets, was buried with his body in the grave.<a id="footnotetag210" name="footnotetag210"></a><a href="#footnote210"><sup>210</sup></a>
Further, we are told that among the natives of Western
Australia the weapons and personal property of the deceased
are placed on the grave, "so that when he rises from the
dead they may be ready to his hand."<a id="footnotetag211" name="footnotetag211"></a><a href="#footnote211"><sup>211</sup></a> In the Boulia
district of Queensland the things which belonged to a dead
man, such as his boomerangs and spears, are either buried
with him, destroyed by fire, or sometimes, though rarely,
distributed among his tribal brothers, but never among his
children.<a id="footnotetag212" name="footnotetag212"></a><a href="#footnote212"><sup>212</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Intention of destroying the property of the dead. The
property of the dead not destroyed in Central Australia.</p>

<p>Thus among certain tribes of Australia, especially in the
south-eastern part of the continent, it appears that the
custom of burying or destroying a dead man's property has
been very common. That the intention of the custom in
some cases is to supply the supposed needs of the ghost,
seems to be fairly certain; but we may doubt whether this
explanation would apply to the practice of burning or
otherwise destroying the things which had belonged to the
deceased. More probably such destruction springs from an
overpowering dread of the ghost and a wish to sever all
connexion with him, so that he may have no excuse for
returning and haunting the survivors, as he might do if his
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page148" id="page148"></a>[pg 148]</span>
property were either kept by them or deposited in the
grave. Whatever the motive for the burial or destruction
of a dead man's property may be, the custom appears not
to prevail among the tribes of Central Australia. In the
eastern Arunta tribe, indeed, it is said that sometimes a
little wooden vessel used in camp for holding small objects
may be buried with the man, but this is the only instance
which Messrs. Spencer and Gillen could hear of in which
any article of ordinary use is buried in the grave. Far from
wasting property in that way, these economical savages
preserve even a man's personal ornaments, such as his
necklaces, armlets, and the fur string which he wore round
his head; indeed, as we have seen, they go so far as to cut
off the hair from the head of the deceased and to keep
it for magical uses.<a id="footnotetag213" name="footnotetag213"></a><a href="#footnote213"><sup>213</sup></a> In the Warramunga tribe all the
belongings of a dead man go to the tribal brothers of his
mother.<a id="footnotetag214" name="footnotetag214"></a><a href="#footnote214"><sup>214</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Property of the dead hung up on trees, then washed and
distributed. Economic loss entailed by sacrifices to the dead.</p>

<p>The difference in this respect between the practice of the
Central tribes and that of the tribes nearer the sea, especially
in Victoria and New South Wales, is very notable. A custom
intermediate between the two is observed by some tribes of
the Darling River, who hang up the weapons, nets, and other
property of the deceased on trees for about two months, then
wash them, and distribute them among the relations.<a id="footnotetag215" name="footnotetag215"></a><a href="#footnote215"><sup>215</sup></a> The
reason for hanging the things up and washing them is no
doubt to rid them of the infection of death in order that they
may be used with safety by the survivors. Such a custom
points clearly to a growing fear of the dead; and that fear
or reverence comes out still more clearly in the practice
of either burying the property of the dead with them or
destroying it altogether, which is observed by the aborigines
of Victoria and other parts of Australia who live under
more favourable conditions of life than the inhabitants of
the Central deserts. This confirms the conclusion which we
have reached on other grounds, that among the aboriginal
population of Australia favourable natural conditions in
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page149" id="page149"></a>[pg 149]</span>
respect of climate, food, and water have exercised a most
important influence in stimulating social progress in many
directions, and not least in the direction of religion. At the
same time, while we recognise that the incipient tendency to
a worship of the dead which may be detected in these regions
marks a step forward in religious development, we must
acknowledge that the practice of burying or destroying the
property of the dead, which is one of the ways in which
the tendency manifests itself, is, regarded from the side of
economic progress, a decided step backward. It marks, in
fact, the beginning of a melancholy aberration of the human
mind, which has led mankind to sacrifice the real interests
of the living to the imaginary interests of the dead. With the
general advance of society and the accompanying accumulation
of property these sacrifices have at certain stages of evolution
become heavier and heavier, as the demands of the
ghosts became more and more exacting. The economic
waste which the belief in the immortality of the soul has
entailed on the world is incalculable. When we contemplate
that waste in its small beginnings among the rude savages
of Australia it appears insignificant enough; the world is
not much the poorer for the loss of a parcel of boomerangs,
spears, fur string, and skin rugs. But when we pass from
the custom in this its feeble source and follow it as it swells
in volume through the nations of the world till it attains the
dimensions of a mighty river of wasted labour, squandered
treasure, and spilt blood, we cannot but wonder at the
strange mixture of good and evil in the affairs of mankind,
seeing in what we justly call progress so much hardly
earned gain side by side with so much gratuitous loss, such
immense additions to the substantial value of life to be set
off against such enormous sacrifices to the shadow of a
shade.</p>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote160" name="footnote160"></a><b>Footnote 160:</b><a href="#footnotetag160"> (return) </a><p> W. E. Roth, <i>North Queensland Ethnography, Bulletin No.
5, Superstition, Magic, and Medicine</i> (Brisbane, 1903), pp. 18, 23,
&sect;&sect; 68, 83.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote161" name="footnote161"></a><b>Footnote 161:</b><a href="#footnotetag161"> (return) </a><p>Homer, <i>Odyssey</i>, xix. 163.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote162" name="footnote162"></a><b>Footnote 162:</b><a href="#footnotetag162"> (return) </a><p>W. E. Roth, <i>ll. cc.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote163" name="footnote163"></a><b>Footnote 163:</b><a href="#footnotetag163"> (return) </a><p> W. E. Roth, <i>North Queensland
Ethnography, Bulletin No. 5</i> (Brisbane,
1903), p. 29. &sect; 116.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote164" name="footnote164"></a><b>Footnote 164:</b><a href="#footnotetag164"> (return) </a><p>W. E. Roth. <i>op. cit.</i> p. 18, &sect; 68.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote165" name="footnote165"></a><b>Footnote 165:</b><a href="#footnotetag165"> (return) </a><p>W. E. Roth, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 17, 29, &sect;&sect; 65, 116.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote166" name="footnote166"></a><b>Footnote 166:</b><a href="#footnotetag166"> (return) </a><p>W. E. Roth, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 17, &sect; 65.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote167" name="footnote167"></a><b>Footnote 167:</b><a href="#footnotetag167"> (return) </a><p> J. Dawson, <i>Australian Aborigines</i> (Melbourne,
Sydney, and Adelaide, 1881), pp. 110 <i>sq.</i>; A. W. Howitt, <i>Native
Tribes of South-East Australia</i> (London, 1904), p. 442.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote168" name="footnote168"></a><b>Footnote 168:</b><a href="#footnotetag168"> (return) </a><p>A. W. Howitt, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 445.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote169" name="footnote169"></a><b>Footnote 169:</b><a href="#footnotetag169"> (return) </a><p> (Sir) George Grey, <i>Journals of Two Expeditions of
Discovery in North-West and Western Australia</i> (London, 1841), i.
301-303.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote170" name="footnote170"></a><b>Footnote 170:</b><a href="#footnotetag170"> (return) </a><p> Lieutenant-Colonel David Collins, <i>An Account of the
English Colony in New South Wales</i>, Second Edition (London, 1804), p.
354.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote171" name="footnote171"></a><b>Footnote 171:</b><a href="#footnotetag171"> (return) </a><p> Rev. G. Taplin, "The Narrinyeri,"
in <i>Native Tribes of South
Australia</i> (Adelaide, 1879), pp. 18 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote172" name="footnote172"></a><b>Footnote 172:</b><a href="#footnotetag172"> (return) </a><p> Rev. G. Taplin, "The Narrinyeri,"
<i>op. cit.</i> pp. 20 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote173" name="footnote173"></a><b>Footnote 173:</b><a href="#footnotetag173"> (return) </a><p>Rev. G. Taplin, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 20.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote174" name="footnote174"></a><b>Footnote 174:</b><a href="#footnotetag174"> (return) </a><p>Rev. G. Taplin, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 19 <i>sq.</i>, 21.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote175" name="footnote175"></a><b>Footnote 175:</b><a href="#footnotetag175"> (return) </a><p>Rev. G. Taplin, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 21.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote176" name="footnote176"></a><b>Footnote 176:</b><a href="#footnotetag176"> (return) </a><p>See below, pp. 235 <i>sqq.</i>, 327 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote177" name="footnote177"></a><b>Footnote 177:</b><a href="#footnotetag177"> (return) </a><p>Rev. G. Taplin, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 21.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote178" name="footnote178"></a><b>Footnote 178:</b><a href="#footnotetag178"> (return) </a><p> Spencer and Gillen, <i>Native Tribes of Central
Australia</i>, pp. 538 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote179" name="footnote179"></a><b>Footnote 179:</b><a href="#footnotetag179"> (return) </a><p> Spencer and Gillen, <i>Northern Tribes of Central
Australia</i>, pp. 544 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote180" name="footnote180"></a><b>Footnote 180:</b><a href="#footnotetag180"> (return) </a><p> A. W. Howitt, <i>Native Tribes of South-East
Australia</i>, pp. 434, 436, 437, 438. Compare E. J. Eyre, <i>Journals
of Expeditions of Discovery into Central Australia</i> (London, 1845),
ii. 357.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote181" name="footnote181"></a><b>Footnote 181:</b><a href="#footnotetag181"> (return) </a><p>A. W. Howitt, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 434.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote182" name="footnote182"></a><b>Footnote 182:</b><a href="#footnotetag182"> (return) </a><p>A. W. Howitt, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 438.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote183" name="footnote183"></a><b>Footnote 183:</b><a href="#footnotetag183"> (return) </a><p>Rev. W. Ridley, <i>Kamilaroi</i> (Sydney, 1875), p. 160.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote184" name="footnote184"></a><b>Footnote 184:</b><a href="#footnotetag184"> (return) </a><p> A. W. Howitt, <i>Native Tribes of South-East
Australia</i>, pp. 434, 438, 439; J. Dawson, <i>Australian
Aborigines</i>, p. 50.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote185" name="footnote185"></a><b>Footnote 185:</b><a href="#footnotetag185"> (return) </a><p>A. W. Howitt, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 435.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote186" name="footnote186"></a><b>Footnote 186:</b><a href="#footnotetag186"> (return) </a><p>A. W. Howitt, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 437.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote187" name="footnote187"></a><b>Footnote 187:</b><a href="#footnotetag187"> (return) </a><p> Spencer and Gillen, <i>Northern Tribes of Central
Australia</i>, p. 628.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote188" name="footnote188"></a><b>Footnote 188:</b><a href="#footnotetag188"> (return) </a><p> As to the place occupied by the Pleiades in primitive
calendars, see <i>Spirits of the Corn and of the Wild</i>, i. 309-319.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote189" name="footnote189"></a><b>Footnote 189:</b><a href="#footnotetag189"> (return) </a><p> A. W. Howitt, <i>Native Tribes of
South-East Australia</i>, pp. 439 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote190" name="footnote190"></a><b>Footnote 190:</b><a href="#footnotetag190"> (return) </a><p>See <i>Totemism and Exogamy</i>, i. 314 <i>sqq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote191" name="footnote191"></a><b>Footnote 191:</b><a href="#footnotetag191"> (return) </a><p> J. Dawson, <i>Australian Aborigines</i>, p. 51. A man of
the Ta-ta-thi tribe in New South Wales informed Mr. A. L. P. Cameron
that the natives believed in a pit of fire where bad men were roasted
after death. This reported belief, resting apparently on the testimony
of a single informant, may without doubt be ascribed to the influence of
Christian teaching. See A. L. P. Cameron, "Notes on some Tribes of New
South Wales," <i>Journal of the Anthropological Institute</i>, xiv.
(1885) pp. 364 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote192" name="footnote192"></a><b>Footnote 192:</b><a href="#footnotetag192"> (return) </a><p>J. Dawson, <i>Australian Aborigines</i>, p. 49.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote193" name="footnote193"></a><b>Footnote 193:</b><a href="#footnotetag193"> (return) </a><p> A. W. Howitt, <i>Native Tribes of South-East
Australia</i>, p. 448.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote194" name="footnote194"></a><b>Footnote 194:</b><a href="#footnotetag194"> (return) </a><p> A. W. Howitt, <i>op. cit.</i>. p. 449. Compare E. M.
Curr, <i>The Australian Race</i>, i. 87: "The object sought in tying up
the remains of the dead is to prevent the deceased from escaping from
the tomb and frightening or injuring the survivors."</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote195" name="footnote195"></a><b>Footnote 195:</b><a href="#footnotetag195"> (return) </a><p>A. W. Howitt, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 451.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote196" name="footnote196"></a><b>Footnote 196:</b><a href="#footnotetag196"> (return) </a><p>A. W. Howitt, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 467.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote197" name="footnote197"></a><b>Footnote 197:</b><a href="#footnotetag197"> (return) </a><p>J. Dawson, <i>Australian Aborigines</i>, p. 50.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote198" name="footnote198"></a><b>Footnote 198:</b><a href="#footnotetag198"> (return) </a><p> A. W. Howitt, <i>Native Tribes of South-East
Australia</i>, p. 452.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote199" name="footnote199"></a><b>Footnote 199:</b><a href="#footnotetag199"> (return) </a><p> R. Salvado, <i>M&eacute;moires historiques sur l' Australie</i>
(Paris, 1854), p. 261; <i>Missions Catholiques</i>, x. (1878) p. 247.
For more evidence as to the lighting of fires for this purpose see A. W.
Howitt, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 455, 470.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote200" name="footnote200"></a><b>Footnote 200:</b><a href="#footnotetag200"> (return) </a><p> A. Oldfield, "The Aborigines of Australia,"
<i>Transactions of the Ethnological Society of London</i>, New Series,
iii. (1865) p. 245.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote201" name="footnote201"></a><b>Footnote 201:</b><a href="#footnotetag201"> (return) </a><p>A. W. Howitt, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 455.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote202" name="footnote202"></a><b>Footnote 202:</b><a href="#footnotetag202"> (return) </a><p> J. Dawson, <i>Australian Aborigines</i>, pp. 50
<i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote203" name="footnote203"></a><b>Footnote 203:</b><a href="#footnotetag203"> (return) </a><p>J. Dawson, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 63.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote204" name="footnote204"></a><b>Footnote 204:</b><a href="#footnotetag204"> (return) </a><p> A. W. Howitt, <i>Native Tribes of
South-East Australia</i>, p. 458.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote205" name="footnote205"></a><b>Footnote 205:</b><a href="#footnotetag205"> (return) </a><p>A. W. Howitt, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 470.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote206" name="footnote206"></a><b>Footnote 206:</b><a href="#footnotetag206"> (return) </a><p>A. W. Howitt, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 461 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote207" name="footnote207"></a><b>Footnote 207:</b><a href="#footnotetag207"> (return) </a><p>A. W. Howitt, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 464.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote208" name="footnote208"></a><b>Footnote 208:</b><a href="#footnotetag208"> (return) </a><p>A. W. Howitt, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 464.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote209" name="footnote209"></a><b>Footnote 209:</b><a href="#footnotetag209"> (return) </a><p> R. Brough Smyth, <i>The Aborigines of Victoria</i>, i.
104.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote210" name="footnote210"></a><b>Footnote 210:</b><a href="#footnotetag210"> (return) </a><p> P. Beveridge, "Of the Aborigines Inhabiting the Great
Lacustrine and Riverine Depression of the Lower Murray, Lower
Murrumbidgee, Lower Lachlan, and Lower Darling," <i>Journal and
Proceedings of the Royal Society of New South Wales</i>, xvii. (1883) p.
29.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote211" name="footnote211"></a><b>Footnote 211:</b><a href="#footnotetag211"> (return) </a><p> A. Oldfield, "The Aborigines of Australia,"
<i>Transactions of the Ethnological Society of London</i>, New Series,
iii. (1865) p. 245.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote212" name="footnote212"></a><b>Footnote 212:</b><a href="#footnotetag212"> (return) </a><p> W. E. Roth, <i>Ethnological Studies among the
North-West-Central Queensland Aborigines</i> (Brisbane and London,
1897), p. 164.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote213" name="footnote213"></a><b>Footnote 213:</b><a href="#footnotetag213"> (return) </a><p> Spencer and Gillen, <i>Native Tribes of Central
Australia</i>, pp. 466, 497 <i>sq.</i>, 538 <i>sq.</i> See above, p.
138.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote214" name="footnote214"></a><b>Footnote 214:</b><a href="#footnotetag214"> (return) </a><p> Spencer and Gillen, <i>Northern Tribes of Central
Australia</i>, p. 524.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote215" name="footnote215"></a><b>Footnote 215:</b><a href="#footnotetag215"> (return) </a><p> F. Bonney, "On some Customs
of the Aborigines of the River Darling,
New South Wales," <i>Journal of the
Anthropological Institute</i>, xiii. (1884)
p. 135.</p></blockquote>

<span class="pagenum"><a name="page150" id="page150"></a>[pg 150]</span>




<h2><a name="lecture-vii" id="lecture-vii"></a>LECTURE VII</h2>

<h3>THE BELIEF IN IMMORTALITY AMONG THE ABORIGINES
OF AUSTRALIA (<i>concluded</i>)</h3>


<p class="side">Attention to the comfort of the dead. Huts erected on graves
for the use of the ghosts.</p>

<p>In the last lecture I shewed that in the maritime regions of
Australia, where the conditions of life are more favourable
than in the Central deserts, we may detect the germs of
a worship of the dead in certain attentions which the living
pay to the spirits of the departed, for example by kindling
fires on the grave for the ghost to warm himself at, by leaving
food and water for him to eat and drink, and by depositing
his weapons and other property in the tomb for his use
in the life after death. Another mark of respect shewn to
the dead is the custom of erecting a hut on the grave for
the accommodation of the ghost. Thus among the tribes of
South Australia we are told that "upon the mounds, or
tumuli, over the graves, huts of bark, or boughs, are generally
erected to shelter the dead from the rain; they are also
frequently wound round with netting."<a id="footnotetag216" name="footnotetag216"></a><a href="#footnote216"><sup>216</sup></a> Again, in Western
Australia a small hut of rushes, grass, and so forth is said to
have been set up by the natives over the grave.<a id="footnotetag217" name="footnotetag217"></a><a href="#footnote217"><sup>217</sup></a> Among
the tribes of the Lower Murray, Lower Lachlan, and Lower
Darling rivers, when a person died who had been highly
esteemed in life, a neat hut was erected over his grave so as
to cover it entirely. The hut was of oval shape, about five
feet high, and roofed with thatch, which was firmly tied to
the framework by cord many hundreds of yards in length.
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page151" id="page151"></a>[pg 151]</span>
Sometimes the whole hut was enveloped in a net. At the
eastern end of the hut a small opening was left just large
enough to allow a full-grown man to creep in, and the floor
was covered with grass, which was renewed from time to
time as it became withered. Each of these graves was
enclosed by a fence of brushwood forming a diamond-shaped
enclosure, within which the tomb stood exactly in the
middle. All the grass within the fence was neatly shaved
off and the ground swept quite clean. Sepulchres of this
sort were kept up for two or three years, after which they were
allowed to fall into disrepair, and when a few more years had
gone by the very sites of them were forgotten.<a id="footnotetag218" name="footnotetag218"></a><a href="#footnote218"><sup>218</sup></a> The intention
of erecting huts on graves is not mentioned in these
cases, but on analogy we may conjecture that they are intended
for the convenience and comfort of the ghost. This
is confirmed by an account given of a native burial on the
Vasse River in Western Australia. We are told that when
the grave had been filled in, the natives piled logs on it to
a considerable height and then constructed a hut upon the
logs, after which one of the male relations went into the
hut and said, "I sit in his house."<a id="footnotetag219" name="footnotetag219"></a><a href="#footnote219"><sup>219</sup></a> Thus it would seem
that the hut on the grave is regarded as the house of the
dead man. If only these sepulchral huts were kept up
permanently, they might develop into something like temples,
in which the spirits of the departed might be invoked and
propitiated with prayer and sacrifice. It is thus that the
great round huts, in which the remains of dead kings of
Uganda are deposited, have grown into sanctuaries or shrines,
where the spirits of the deceased monarchs are consulted as
oracles through the medium of priests.<a id="footnotetag220" name="footnotetag220"></a><a href="#footnote220"><sup>220</sup></a> But in Australia
this development is prevented by the simple forgetfulness
of the savages. A few years suffice with them to wipe
out the memory of the deceased and with it his chance of
developing into an ancestral deity. Like most savages, the
Australian aborigines seem to fear only the ghosts of the
recently departed; one writer tells us that they have no
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page152" id="page152"></a>[pg 152]</span>
fear of the ghost of a man who has been dead say forty
years.<a id="footnotetag221" name="footnotetag221"></a><a href="#footnote221"><sup>221</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Fear of the dead and precautions taken by the living against
them.</p>

<p>The burial customs of the Australian aborigines which I
have described betray not only a belief in the existence of
the ghost, but also a certain regard for his comfort and
convenience. However, we may suspect that in most, if not
in all, cases the predominant motive of these attentions is
fear rather than affection. The survivors imagine that any
want of respect for the dead, any neglect of his personal
comforts in the grave, would excite his resentment and draw
down on them his vengeance. That these savages are
really actuated by fear of the dead is expressly affirmed of
some tribes. Thus we are told that the Yuin "were always
afraid that the dead man might come out of the grave and
follow them."<a id="footnotetag222" name="footnotetag222"></a><a href="#footnote222"><sup>222</sup></a> After burying a body the Ngarigo were
wont to cross a river in order to prevent the ghost from
pursuing them;<a id="footnotetag223" name="footnotetag223"></a><a href="#footnote223"><sup>223</sup></a> obviously they shared the common opinion
that ghosts for some reason are unable to cross water. The
Wakelbura took other measures to throw the poor ghost off
the scent. They marked all the trees in a circle round the
place where the dead man was buried; so that when he
emerged from the grave and set off in pursuit of his retiring
relations, he would follow the marks on the trees in a circle
and always come back to the point from which he had
started. And to make assurance doubly sure they put
coals in the dead man's ears, which, by bunging up these
apertures, were supposed to keep his ghost in the body till
his friends had got a good start away from him. As a
further precaution they lit fires and put bushes in the forks
of trees, with the idea that the ghost would roost in the
bushes and warm himself at the fires, while they were
hastening away.<a id="footnotetag224" name="footnotetag224"></a><a href="#footnote224"><sup>224</sup></a> Here, therefore, we see that the real
motive for kindling fires for the use of the dead is fear, not
affection. In this respect the burial customs of the tribes
at the Herbert River are still more significant. These
savages buried with the dead man his weapons, his ornaments,
and indeed everything he had used in life; moreover,
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page153" id="page153"></a>[pg 153]</span>
they built a hut on the grave, put a drinking-vessel in the
hut, and cleared a path from it down to the water for the
use of the ghost; and often they placed food and water on
the grave. So far, these measures might be interpreted as
marks of pure and disinterested affection for the soul of the
departed. But such an interpretation is totally excluded
by the ferocious treatment which these savages meted out to
the corpse. To frighten the spirit, lest he should haunt the
camp, the father or brother of the deceased, or the husband,
if it was a woman, took a club and mauled the body with
such violence that he often smashed the bones; further, he
generally broke both its legs in order to prevent it from
wandering of nights; and as if that were not enough, he
bored holes in the stomach, the shoulders, and the lungs, and
filled the holes with stones, so that even if the poor ghost
should succeed by a desperate effort in dragging his mangled
body out of the grave, he would be so weighed down by this
ballast of stones that he could not get very far. However,
after roaming up and down in this pitiable condition for a
time in their old haunts, the spirits were supposed at last to
go up aloft to the Milky Way.<a id="footnotetag225" name="footnotetag225"></a><a href="#footnote225"><sup>225</sup></a> The Kwearriburra tribe,
on the Lynd River, in Queensland, also took forcible measures
to prevent the resurrection of the dead. Whenever a person
died, they cut off his or her head, roasted it in a fire on the
grave, and when it was thoroughly charred they smashed it
in bits and left the fragments among the hot coals. They
calculated that when the ghost rose from the grave with the
view of following the tribe, he would miss his head and go
groping blindly about for it till he scorched himself in the
embers of the fire and was glad to shrink back into his
narrow bed.<a id="footnotetag226" name="footnotetag226"></a><a href="#footnote226"><sup>226</sup></a></p>

<p>Thus even among those Australian tribes which have
progressed furthest in the direction of religion, such approaches
as they have made towards a worship of the dead
appear to be determined far more by fear than by affection and
reverence. And we are told that it is the nearest relations
and the most influential men whose ghosts are most dreaded.<a id="footnotetag227" name="footnotetag227"></a><a href="#footnote227"><sup>227</sup></a></p>

<span class="pagenum"><a name="page154" id="page154"></a>[pg 154]</span>

<p class="side">Cuttings and brandings of the flesh of the living in honour
of the dead.</p>

<p>There is another custom observed by the Australian
aborigines in mourning which deserves to be mentioned.
We all know that the Israelites were forbidden to make
cuttings in their flesh for the dead.<a id="footnotetag228" name="footnotetag228"></a><a href="#footnote228"><sup>228</sup></a> The custom was probably
practised by the heathen Canaanites, as it has been by
savages in various parts of the world. Nowhere, perhaps,
has the practice prevailed more generally or been carried
out with greater severity than in aboriginal Australia. For
example, with regard to the tribes in the central part of
Victoria we are told that "the parents of the deceased
lacerate themselves fearfully, especially if it be an only son
whose loss they deplore. The father beats and cuts his
head with a tomahawk until he utters bitter groans. The
mother sits by the fire and burns her breasts and abdomen
with a small fire-stick till she wails with pain; then she
replaces the stick in the fire, to use again when the pain is
less severe. This continues for hours daily, until the time
of lamentation is completed; sometimes the burns thus
inflicted are so severe as to cause death."<a id="footnotetag229" name="footnotetag229"></a><a href="#footnote229"><sup>229</sup></a> It is especially
the women, and above all the widows, who torture themselves
in this way. Speaking of the tribes of Victoria, a
writer tells us that on the death of her husband a widow,
"becoming frantic, seizes fire-sticks and burns her breasts,
arms, legs, and thighs. Rushing from one place to another,
and intent only on injuring herself, and seeming to delight
in the self-inflicted torture, it would be rash and vain to
interrupt her. She would fiercely turn on her nearest relative
or friend and burn him with her brands. When exhausted,
and when she can scarcely walk, she yet endeavours to kick
the embers of the fire, and to throw them about. Sitting
down, she takes the ashes in her hands, rubs them into her
wounds, and then scratches her face (the only part not
touched by the fire-sticks) until the blood mingles with the
ashes which partly hide her cruel wounds."<a id="footnotetag230" name="footnotetag230"></a><a href="#footnote230"><sup>230</sup></a> Among the
Kurnai of South-eastern Victoria the relations of the dead
would cut and gash themselves with sharp stones and tomahawks
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page155" id="page155"></a>[pg 155]</span>
until their heads and bodies streamed with blood.<a id="footnotetag231" name="footnotetag231"></a><a href="#footnote231"><sup>231</sup></a>
In the Mukjarawaint tribe, when a man died, his kinsfolk
wept over him and slashed themselves with tomahawks and
other sharp instruments for about a week.<a id="footnotetag232" name="footnotetag232"></a><a href="#footnote232"><sup>232</sup></a> In the tribes of
the Lower Murray and Lower Darling rivers mourners scored
their backs and arms, sometimes even their faces, with red-hot
brands, which raised hideous ulcers; afterwards they
flung themselves prone on the grave, tore out their hair by
handfuls, rubbed earth over their heads and bodies in great
profusion, and ripped up their green ulcers till the mingled
blood and grime presented a ghastly spectacle. These
self-inflicted sores remained long unhealed.<a id="footnotetag233" name="footnotetag233"></a><a href="#footnote233"><sup>233</sup></a> Among the
Kamilaroi, a large tribe of eastern New South Wales, the
mourners, and especially the women, used to cut their heads
with tomahawks and allow the blood to dry on them.<a id="footnotetag234" name="footnotetag234"></a><a href="#footnote234"><sup>234</sup></a>
Speaking of a native burial on the Murray River, a writer
says that "around the bier were many women, relations of
the deceased, wailing and lamenting bitterly, and lacerating
their thighs, backs, and breasts, with shells or flint, until the
blood flowed copiously from the gashes."<a id="footnotetag235" name="footnotetag235"></a><a href="#footnote235"><sup>235</sup></a> In the Boulia
district of Queensland women in mourning score their thighs,
both inside and outside, with sharp stones or bits of glass,
so as to make a series of parallel cuts; in neighbouring
districts of Queensland the men make much deeper cross-shaped
cuts on their thighs.<a id="footnotetag236" name="footnotetag236"></a><a href="#footnote236"><sup>236</sup></a> In the Arunta tribe of Central
Australia a man is bound to cut himself on the shoulder in
mourning for his father-in-law; if he does not do so, his wife
may be given away to another man in order to appease the
wrath of the ghost at his undutiful son-in-law. Arunta men
regularly bear on their shoulders the raised scars which
shew that they have done their duty by their dead fathers-in-law.<a id="footnotetag237" name="footnotetag237"></a><a href="#footnote237"><sup>237</sup></a>
The female relations of a dead man in the Arunta
tribe also cut and hack themselves in token of sorrow,
working themselves up into a sort of frenzy as they do so;
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page156" id="page156"></a>[pg 156]</span>
yet in all their apparent excitement they take care never to
wound a vital part, but vent their fury on their scalps, their
shoulders, and their legs.<a id="footnotetag238" name="footnotetag238"></a><a href="#footnote238"><sup>238</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Cuttings for the dead among the Warramunga.</p>

<p>In the Warramunga tribe of Central Australia Messrs.
Spencer and Gillen witnessed the mourning for a dead man.
Even before the sufferer had breathed his last the lamentations
and self-inflicted wounds began. When it was known
that the end was near, all the native men ran at full speed
to the spot, and Messrs. Spencer and Gillen followed them
to see what was to be seen. What they saw, or part of
what they saw, was this. Some of the women, who had
gathered from all directions, were lying prostrate on the
body of the dying man, while others were standing or
kneeling around, digging the sharp ends of yam-sticks into
the crown of their heads, from which the blood streamed
down over their faces, while all the time they kept up a loud
continuous wail. Many of the men, rushing up to the scene
of action, flung themselves also higgledy-piggledy on the
sufferer, the women rising and making way for them, till
nothing was to be seen but a struggling mass of naked bodies
all mixed up together. Presently up came a man yelling
and brandishing a stone knife. On reaching the spot he
suddenly gashed both his thighs with the knife, cutting right
across the muscles, so that, unable to stand, he dropped
down on the top of the struggling bodies, till his mother,
wife, and sisters dragged him out of the scrimmage, and immediately
applied their mouths to his gaping wounds, while
he lay exhausted and helpless on the ground. Gradually
the struggling mass of dusky bodies untwined itself, disclosing
the unfortunate sick man, who was the object, or rather the
victim, of this well-meant demonstration of affection and
sorrow. If he had been ill before, he was much worse when
his friends left him: indeed it was plain that he had not
long to live. Still the weeping and wailing went on; the
sun set, darkness fell on the camp, and later in the evening
the man died. Then the wailing rose louder than before,
and men and women, apparently frantic with grief, rushed
about cutting themselves with knives and sharp-pointed
sticks, while the women battered each other's heads with
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page157" id="page157"></a>[pg 157]</span>
clubs, no one attempting to ward off either cuts or blows.
An hour later a funeral procession set out by torchlight
through the darkness, carrying the body to a wood about a
mile off, where it was laid on a platform of boughs in a low
gum-tree. When day broke next morning, not a sign of
human habitation was to be seen in the camp where the
man had died. All the people had removed their rude huts
to some distance, leaving the place of death solitary; for
nobody wished to meet the ghost of the deceased, who
would certainly be hovering about, along with the spirit of
the living man who had caused his death by evil magic,
and who might be expected to come to the spot in the
outward form of an animal to gloat over the scene of his
crime. But in the new camp the ground was strewed with
men lying prostrate, their thighs gashed with the wounds
which they had inflicted on themselves with their own hands.
They had done their duty by the dead and would bear to
the end of their life the deep scars on their thighs as badges
of honour. On one man Messrs. Spencer and Gillen counted
the dints of no less than twenty-three wounds which he had
inflicted on himself at various times. Meantime the women
had resumed the duty of lamentation. Forty or fifty of
them sat down in groups of five or six, weeping and wailing
frantically with their arms round each other, while the actual
and tribal wives, mothers, wives' mothers, daughters, sisters,
mothers' mothers, sisters' husbands' mothers, and grand-daughters,
according to custom, once more cut their scalps
open with yam-sticks, and the widows afterwards in addition
seared the scalp wounds with red-hot fire-sticks.</p>

<p class="side">Cuttings for the dead strictly regulated by custom.</p>

<p>In these mourning customs, wild and extravagant as the
expression of sorrow appears to be, everything is regulated
by certain definite rules; and a woman who did not thus
maul herself when she ought to do so would be severely
punished, or even killed, by her brother. Similarly with the
men, it is only those who stand in certain relationships to
the deceased who must cut and hack themselves in his
honour, and these relationships are determined by the particular
exogamous class to which the dead man happened to
belong. Of such classes there are eight in the Warramunga
tribe. On the occasion described by Messrs. Spencer and
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page158" id="page158"></a>[pg 158]</span>
Gillen it was a man of the Tjunguri class who died; and
the men who gashed their thighs stood to him in one or
other of the following relationships: grandfather on the
mother's side, mother's brother, brother of the dead man's
wife, and her mother's brother.<a id="footnotetag239" name="footnotetag239"></a><a href="#footnote239"><sup>239</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">The cuttings and brandings which mourners inflict on
themselves may be intended to convince the ghost of the sincerity of
their sorrow.</p>

<p>We naturally ask, What motive have these savages for
inflicting all this voluntary and, as it seems to us, wholly
superfluous suffering on themselves? It can hardly be that
these wounds and burns are merely a natural and unfeigned
expression of grief. We have seen that by experienced
observers such extravagant demonstrations of sorrow are set
down rather to fear than to affection. Similarly Messrs.
Spencer and Gillen suggest that at least one motive is a fear
entertained by the native lest, if he does not make a sufficient
display of grief, the ghost of the dead man will be offended
and do him a mischief.<a id="footnotetag240" name="footnotetag240"></a><a href="#footnote240"><sup>240</sup></a> In the Kaitish tribe of Central
Australia it is believed that if a woman does not keep her
body covered with ashes from the camp fire during the
whole time of mourning, the spirit of her deceased husband,
who constantly follows her about, will kill her and strip all
the flesh from her bones.<a id="footnotetag241" name="footnotetag241"></a><a href="#footnote241"><sup>241</sup></a> Again, in the Arunta tribe
mourners smear themselves with white pipeclay, and the
motive for this custom is said to be to render themselves
more conspicuous, so that the ghost may see and be satisfied
that he is being properly mourned for.<a id="footnotetag242" name="footnotetag242"></a><a href="#footnote242"><sup>242</sup></a> Thus the fear of the
ghost, who, at least among the Australian aborigines, is
commonly of a jealous temper and stands very firmly on his
supposed rights, may suffice to explain the practice of self-mutilation
at mourning.</p>

<p class="side">Custom of allowing the blood of mourners to drip on the
corpse or into the grave.</p>

<p>But it is possible that another motive underlies the
drawing of blood on these occasions. For it is to be
observed that the blood of the mourners is often allowed to
drop directly either on the dead body or into the grave.
Thus, for example, among the tribes on the River Darling
several men used to stand by the open grave and cut each
other's heads with a boomerang; then they held their bleeding
heads over the grave so that the blood dripped on the
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page159" id="page159"></a>[pg 159]</span>
corpse lying in it. If the deceased was highly esteemed, the
bleeding was repeated after some earth had been thrown on
the body.<a id="footnotetag243" name="footnotetag243"></a><a href="#footnote243"><sup>243</sup></a> Among the Arunta it is customary for the women
kinsfolk of the dead to cut their own and each other's heads
so severely with clubs and digging-sticks that blood streams
from them on the grave.<a id="footnotetag244" name="footnotetag244"></a><a href="#footnote244"><sup>244</sup></a> Again, at a burial on the Vasse
River, in Western Australia, a writer describes how, when
the grave was dug, the natives placed the corpse beside it,
then "gashed their thighs, and at the flowing of the blood
they all said, 'I have brought blood,' and they stamped the
foot forcibly on the ground, sprinkling the blood around
them; then wiping the wounds with a wisp of leaves, they
threw it, bloody as it was, on the dead man."<a id="footnotetag245" name="footnotetag245"></a><a href="#footnote245"><sup>245</sup></a> With these
Australian practices we may compare a custom observed by
the civilised Greeks of antiquity. Every year the Peloponnesian
lads lashed themselves on the grave of Pelops at
Olympia, till the blood ran down their backs as a libation
in honour of the dead man.<a id="footnotetag246" name="footnotetag246"></a><a href="#footnote246"><sup>246</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">The blood intended to strengthen the dead.</p>

<p>Now what is the intention of thus applying the blood of
the living to the dead or pouring it into the grave? So far
as the ancient Greeks are concerned the answer is not
doubtful. We know from Homer that the ghosts of the
dead were supposed to drink the blood that was offered to
them and to be strengthened by the draught.<a id="footnotetag247" name="footnotetag247"></a><a href="#footnote247"><sup>247</sup></a> Similarly with
the Australian savages, their object can hardly be any other
than that of strengthening the spirit of the dead; for these
aborigines are in the habit of giving human blood to the
sick and the aged to drink for the purpose of restoring them
to health and strength;<a id="footnotetag248" name="footnotetag248"></a><a href="#footnote248"><sup>248</sup></a> hence it would be natural for
them to imagine that they could refresh and fortify the feeble
ghost in like manner. Perhaps the blood was intended
specially to strengthen the spirits of the dead for the
new birth or reincarnation, to which so many of these
savages look forward.</p>

<span class="pagenum"><a name="page160" id="page160"></a>[pg 160]</span>

<p class="side">Custom of burying people in the place where they were born.
The custom perhaps intended to facilitate the rebirth of the soul.</p>

<p>The same motive may possibly explain the custom
observed by some Australian tribes of burying people, as
far as possible, at the place where they were born. Thus in
regard to the tribes of Western Victoria we are informed
that "dying persons, especially those dying from old age,
generally express an earnest desire to be taken to their
birthplace, that they may die and be buried there. If
possible, these wishes are always complied with by the
relatives and friends. Parents will point out the spot where
they were born, so that when they become old and infirm,
their children may know where they wish their bodies to be
disposed of."<a id="footnotetag249" name="footnotetag249"></a><a href="#footnote249"><sup>249</sup></a> Again, some tribes in the north and north-east
of Victoria "are said to be more than ordinarily scrupulous in
interring the dead. If practicable, they will bury the corpse
near the spot where, as a child, it first drew breath. A mother
will carry a dead infant for weeks, in the hope of being able
to bury it near the place where it was born; and a dead
man will be conveyed a long distance, in order that the last
rites may be performed in a manner satisfactory to the
tribe."<a id="footnotetag250" name="footnotetag250"></a><a href="#footnote250"><sup>250</sup></a> Another writer, speaking of the Australian
aborigines in general, says: "By what I could learn, it is
considered proper by many tribes that a black should be
buried at or near the spot where he or she was born, and for
this reason, when a black becomes seriously ill, the invalid
is carried a long distance to these certain spots to die, as
in this case. They apparently object to place a body in
strange ground." The same writer mentions the case of a
blackfellow, who began digging a grave close beside the
kitchen door of a Mr. Campbell. When Mr. Campbell
remonstrated with him, the native replied that he had no
choice, for the dead man had been born on that very spot.
With much difficulty Mr. Campbell persuaded him to bury
his deceased friend a little further off from the kitchen door.<a id="footnotetag251" name="footnotetag251"></a><a href="#footnote251"><sup>251</sup></a>
A practice of this sort would be intelligible on the theory of
the Central Australians, who imagine that the spirits of all
the dead return to the very spots where they entered into
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page161" id="page161"></a>[pg 161]</span>
their mothers' wombs, and that they wait there until another
opportunity presents itself to them of being born again into
the world. For if people really believe, as do many
Australian tribes, that when they die they will afterwards
come to life again as infants, it is perfectly natural that they
should take steps to ensure and facilitate the new birth. The
Unmatjera and Kaitish tribes of Central Australia do this
in the case of dead children. These savages draw a sharp
distinction between young children and very old men and
women. When very old people die, their bodies are at once
buried in the ground, but the bodies of children are placed
in wooden troughs and deposited on platforms of boughs in
the branches of trees, and the motive for treating a dead
child thus is, we are informed, the hope "that before very
long its spirit may come back again and enter into the body
of a woman&mdash;in all probability that of its former mother."<a id="footnotetag252" name="footnotetag252"></a><a href="#footnote252"><sup>252</sup></a>
The reason for drawing this distinction between the young
and the old by disposing of their bodies in different fashions,
is explained with great probability by Messrs. Spencer and
Gillen as follows: "In the Unmatjera and Kaitish tribes,
while every old man has certain privileges denied to the
younger men, yet if he be decidedly infirm and unable
to take his part in the performance of ceremonies which
are often closely concerned&mdash;or so at least the natives
believe them to be&mdash;with the general welfare of the tribe,
then the feeling undoubtedly is that there is no need to pay
any very special respect to his remains. This feeling is
probably vaguely associated with the idea that, as his body
is infirm, so to a corresponding extent will his spirit part be,
and therefore they have no special need to consider or
propitiate this, as it can do them no harm. On the other
hand they are decidedly afraid of hurting the feelings of any
strong man who might be capable of doing them some
mischief unless he saw that he was properly mourned for.
Acting under much the same feeling they pay respect to the
bodies of dead children and young women, in the hope that
the spirit will soon return and undergo reincarnation. It is
also worth noticing that they do not bury in trees any young
man who has violated tribal law by taking as wife a woman
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page162" id="page162"></a>[pg 162]</span>
who is forbidden to him; such an individual is always
buried directly in the ground."<a id="footnotetag253" name="footnotetag253"></a><a href="#footnote253"><sup>253</sup></a> Apparently these law-abiding
savages are not anxious that members of the criminal
classes should be born again and should have the opportunity
of troubling society once more.</p>

<p class="side">Different modes of disposing of the dead adopted in the same
tribe.</p>

<p>I would call your attention particularly to the different
modes of burial thus accorded by these two tribes to
different classes of persons. It is too commonly assumed
that each tribe has one uniform way of disposing of all
its dead, say either by burning or by burying, and on
that assumption certain general theories have been built
as to the different views taken of the state of the dead by
different tribes. But in point of fact the assumption is
incorrect. Not infrequently the same tribe disposes of
different classes of dead people in quite different ways;
for instance, it will bury some and burn others. Thus
amongst the Angoni of British Central Africa the corpses
of chiefs are burned with all their household belongings, but
the bodies of commoners are buried with all their belongings
in caves.<a id="footnotetag254" name="footnotetag254"></a><a href="#footnote254"><sup>254</sup></a> In various castes or tribes of India it is the
custom to burn the bodies of married people but to bury the
bodies of the unmarried.<a id="footnotetag255" name="footnotetag255"></a><a href="#footnote255"><sup>255</sup></a> With some peoples of India the
distinction is made, not between the married and the
unmarried, but between adults and children, especially
children under two years old; in such cases the invariable
practice appears to be to burn the old and bury the young.
Thus among the Malayalis of Malabar the bodies of men
and women are burned, but the bodies of children under two
years are buried, and so are the bodies of all persons
who have died of cholera or small-pox.<a id="footnotetag256" name="footnotetag256"></a><a href="#footnote256"><sup>256</sup></a> The same
distinctions are observed by the Nayars, Kadupattans, and
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page163" id="page163"></a>[pg 163]</span>
other castes or tribes of Cochin.<a id="footnotetag257" name="footnotetag257"></a><a href="#footnote257"><sup>257</sup></a> The old rule laid down
in the ancient Hindoo law-book <i>The Grihya-Sutras</i> was that
children who died under the age of two should be buried,
not burnt.<a id="footnotetag258" name="footnotetag258"></a><a href="#footnote258"><sup>258</sup></a> The Bhotias of the Himalayas bury all children
who have not yet obtained their permanent teeth, but
they burn all other people.<a id="footnotetag259" name="footnotetag259"></a><a href="#footnote259"><sup>259</sup></a> Among the Komars the young
are buried, and the old cremated.<a id="footnotetag260" name="footnotetag260"></a><a href="#footnote260"><sup>260</sup></a> The Coorgs bury the
bodies of women and of boys under sixteen years of age,
but they burn the bodies of men.<a id="footnotetag261" name="footnotetag261"></a><a href="#footnote261"><sup>261</sup></a> The Chukchansi Indians
of California are said to have burned only those who died a
violent death or were bitten by snakes, but to have buried
all others.<a id="footnotetag262" name="footnotetag262"></a><a href="#footnote262"><sup>262</sup></a> The Minnetaree Indians disposed of their dead
differently according to their moral character. Bad and
quarrelsome men they buried in the earth that the Master of
Life might not see them; but the bodies of good men they
laid on scaffolds, that the Master of Life might behold
them.<a id="footnotetag263" name="footnotetag263"></a><a href="#footnote263"><sup>263</sup></a> The Kolosh or Tlingit Indians of Alaska burn their
ordinary dead on a pyre, but deposit the bodies of shamans
in large coffins, which are supported on four posts.<a id="footnotetag264" name="footnotetag264"></a><a href="#footnote264"><sup>264</sup></a> The
ancient Mexicans thought that all persons who died of
infectious diseases were killed by the rain-god Tlaloc; so
they painted their bodies blue, which was the rain-god's
colour, and buried instead of burning them.<a id="footnotetag265" name="footnotetag265"></a><a href="#footnote265"><sup>265</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Special modes of burial adopted to prevent or facilitate the
return of the spirit.</p>

<p>These examples may suffice to illustrate the different
ways in which the same people may dispose of their dead
according to the age, sex, social rank, or moral character of
the deceased, or the manner of his death. In some cases
the special mode of burial adopted seems clearly intended
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page164" id="page164"></a>[pg 164]</span>
to guard against the return of the dead, whether in the
form of ghosts or of children born again into the world.
Such, for instance, was obviously the intention of the old
English custom of burying a suicide at a cross-road with a
stake driven through his body. And if some burial customs
are plainly intended to pin down the dead in the earth, or
at least to disable him from revisiting the survivors, so
others appear to be planned with the opposite intention of
facilitating the departure of the spirit from the grave, in
order that he may repair to a more commodious lodging or
be born again into the tribe. For example, the Arunta
of Central Australia always bury their dead in the earth
and raise a low mound over the grave; but they leave a
depression in the mound on the side which faces towards
the spot where the spirit of the deceased is supposed to
have dwelt in the intervals between his successive reincarnations;
and we are expressly told that the purpose of leaving
this depression is to allow the spirit to go out and in easily;
for until the final ceremony of mourning has been performed
at the grave, the ghost is believed to spend his time partly
in watching over his near relations and partly in the
company of its <i>arumburinga</i> or spiritual double, who lives
at the old <i>nanja</i> spot, that is, at the place where the disembodied
soul tarries waiting to be born again.<a id="footnotetag266" name="footnotetag266"></a><a href="#footnote266"><sup>266</sup></a> Thus the
Arunta imagine that for some time after death the spirit
of the deceased is in a sort of intermediate state, partly
hovering about the abode of the living, partly visiting his
own proper spiritual home, to which on the completion of
the mourning ceremonies he will retire to await the new
birth. The final mourning ceremony, which marks the
close of this intermediate state, takes place some twelve
or eighteen months after the death. It consists mainly in
nothing more or less than a ghost hunt; men armed with
shields and spear-throwers assemble and with loud shouts
beat the air, driving the invisible ghost before them from
the spot where he died, while the women join in the shouts
and buffet the air with the palms of their hands to chase
away the dead man from the old camp which he loves to
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page165" id="page165"></a>[pg 165]</span>
haunt. In this way the beaters gradually advance towards
the grave till they have penned the ghost into it, when they
immediately dance on the top of it, beating the air downwards
as if to drive the spirit down, and stamping on the
ground as if to trample him into the earth. After that, the
women gather round the grave and cut each other's heads
with clubs till the blood streams down on it. This brings the
period of mourning to an end; and if the deceased was a man,
his widow is now free to marry again. In token that the days
of her sorrow are over, she wears at this final ceremony the
gay feathers of the ring-neck parrot in her hair. The spirit
of her dead husband, lying in the grave, is believed to
know the sign and to bid her a last farewell. Even after he
has thus been hunted into the grave and trampled down in it,
his spirit may still watch over his friends, guard them from
harm, and visit them in dreams.<a id="footnotetag267" name="footnotetag267"></a><a href="#footnote267"><sup>267</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Departure of the ghost supposed to coincide with the
disappearance of the flesh from his bones.</p>

<p>We may naturally ask, Why should the spirit of the
dead be supposed at first to dwell more or less intermittently
near the spot where he died, and afterwards to take up his
abode permanently at his <i>nanja</i> spot till the time comes
for him to be born again? A good many years ago I
conjectured<a id="footnotetag268" name="footnotetag268"></a><a href="#footnote268"><sup>268</sup></a> that this idea of a change in the abode of the
ghost may be suggested by a corresponding change which
takes place, or is supposed to take place, about the same
time in the state of the body; in fact, that so long as the
flesh adheres to the bones, so long the soul of the dead man
may be thought to be detained in the neighbourhood of the
body, but that when the flesh has quite decayed, the soul is
completely liberated from its old tabernacle and is free to
repair to its true spiritual home. In confirmation of this
conjecture I pointed to the following facts. Some of the
Indians of Guiana bring food and drink to their dead so
long as the flesh remains on the bones; but when it has
mouldered away, they conclude that the man himself has
departed.<a id="footnotetag269" name="footnotetag269"></a><a href="#footnote269"><sup>269</sup></a> The Matacos Indians of the Gran Chaco in
Argentina believe that the soul of a dead man does not
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page166" id="page166"></a>[pg 166]</span>
pass down into the nether world until his body is decomposed
or burnt. Further, the Alfoors of Central Celebes
suppose that the spirits of the departed cannot enter the
spirit-land until all the flesh has been removed from their
bones; for until that has been done, the gods (<i>lamoa</i>) in
the other world could not bear the stench of the corpse.
Accordingly at a great festival the bodies of all who have
died within a certain time are dug up and the decaying
flesh scraped from the bones. Comparing these ideas, I
suggested that they may explain the widespread custom of
a second burial, that is, the practice of disinterring the dead
after a certain time and disposing of their bones otherwise.</p>

<p class="side">Second burial of the bones among the tribes of Central
Australia. Final burial ceremony among the Warramunga.</p>

<p>Now so far as the tribes of Central Australia are
concerned, my conjecture has been confirmed by the subsequent
researches of Messrs. Spencer and Gillen in that
region. For they have found that the tribes to the north
of the Arunta regularly give their dead a second burial,
that a change in the state of the ghosts is believed to
coincide with the second burial, and apparently also, though
this is not so definitely stated, that the time for the second
burial is determined by the disappearance of the flesh from
the bones. Amongst the tribes which practise a second
burial the custom is first to deposit the dead on platforms
among the branches of trees, till the flesh has quite mouldered
away, and then to bury the bones in the earth: in short,
they practise tree-burial first and earth-burial afterwards.<a id="footnotetag270" name="footnotetag270"></a><a href="#footnote270"><sup>270</sup></a>
For example, in the Unmatjera and Kaitish tribes, when a
man dies, his body is carried by his relations to a tree
distant a mile or two from the camp. There it is laid on a
platform by itself for some months. When the flesh has
disappeared from the bones, a kinsman of the deceased, in
strictness a younger brother (<i>itia</i>), climbs up into the tree,
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page167" id="page167"></a>[pg 167]</span>
dislocates the bones, places them in a wooden vessel, and
hands them down to a female relative. Then the bones
are laid in the grave with the head facing in the direction
in which his mother's brother is supposed to have camped
in days of old. After the bones have been thus interred,
the spirit of the dead man is believed to go away and to
remain in his old <i>alcheringa</i> home until such time as he
once more undergoes reincarnation.<a id="footnotetag271" name="footnotetag271"></a><a href="#footnote271"><sup>271</sup></a> But in these tribes, as
we saw, very old men and women receive only one burial,
being at once laid in an earthy grave and never set up on
a platform in a tree; and we have seen reason to think
that this difference in the treatment of the aged springs
from the indifference or contempt in which their ghosts
are held by comparison with the ghosts of the young and
vigorous. In the Warramunga tribe, who regularly deposit
their dead in trees first and in the earth afterwards, so long
as the corpse remains in the tree and the flesh has not
completely disappeared from the bones, the mother of the
deceased and the women who stand to him or her in the
relation of tribal motherhood are obliged from time to time
to go to the tree, and sitting under the platform to allow
its putrid juices to drip down on their bodies, into which
they rub them as a token of sorrow. This, no doubt, is
intended to please the jealous ghost; for we are told that
he is believed to haunt the tree and even to visit the camp,
in order, if he was a man, to see for himself that his widows
are mourning properly. The time during which the mouldering
remains are left in the tree is at least a year and may
be more.<a id="footnotetag272" name="footnotetag272"></a><a href="#footnote272"><sup>272</sup></a> The final ceremony which brings the period of
mourning to an end is curious and entirely different from the
one observed by the Arunta on the same occasion. When
the bones have been taken down from the tree, an arm-bone
is put carefully apart from the rest. Then the skull is
smashed, and the fragments together with all the rest of
the bones except the arm-bone, are buried in a hollow
ant-hill near the tree. Afterwards the arm-bone is wrapt
up in paper-bark and wound round with fur-string, so as to
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page168" id="page168"></a>[pg 168]</span>
make a torpedo-shaped parcel, which is kept by a tribal
mother of the deceased in her rude hovel of branches, till,
after the lapse of some days or weeks, the time comes for
the last ceremony of all. On that day a design emblematic
of the totem of the deceased is drawn on the ground, and
beside it a shallow trench is dug about a foot deep and
fifteen feet long. Over this trench a number of men,
elaborately decorated with down of various colours, stand
straddle-legged, while a line of women, decorated with red
and yellow ochre, crawl along the trench under the long
bridge made by the straddling legs of the men. The last
woman carries the arm-bone of the dead in its parcel, and
as soon as she emerges from the trench, the bone is snatched
from her by a kinsman of the deceased, who carries it to a
man standing ready with an uplifted axe beside the totemic
drawing. On receiving the bone, the man at once smashes
it, hastily buries it in a small pit beside the totemic emblem
of the departed, and closes the opening with a large flat
stone, signifying thereby that the season of mourning is
over and that the dead man or woman has been gathered
to his or her totem. The totemic design, beside which the
arm-bone is buried, represents the spot at which the totemic
ancestor of the deceased finally went down into the earth.
When once the arm-bone has thus been broken and laid in
its last resting-place, the soul of the dead person, which
they describe as being of about the size of a grain of sand, is
supposed to go back to the place where it camped long ago
in a previous incarnation, there to remain with the souls of
other men and women of the same totem until the time
comes for it to be born again.<a id="footnotetag273" name="footnotetag273"></a><a href="#footnote273"><sup>273</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">General conclusion as to the belief in immortality and the
worship of the dead among the Australian aborigines.</p>

<p>This must conclude what I have to say as to the belief
in immortality and the worship of the dead among the
aborigines of Australia. The evidence I have adduced is
sufficient to prove that these savages firmly believe both in
the existence of the human soul after death and in the
power which it can exert for good or evil over the survivors.
On the whole the dominant motive in their treatment of the
dead appears to be fear rather than affection. Yet the
attention which many tribes pay to the comfort of the
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page169" id="page169"></a>[pg 169]</span>
departed by providing them with huts, food, water, fire,
clothing, implements and weapons, may not be dictated by
purely selfish motives; in any case they are clearly intended
to please and propitiate the ghosts, and therefore contain
the germs of a regular worship of the dead.</p>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote216" name="footnote216"></a><b>Footnote 216:</b><a href="#footnotetag216"> (return) </a><p> E. J. Eyre, <i>Journals of Expeditions of Discovery into
Central Australia</i> (London, 1845), ii. 349.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote217" name="footnote217"></a><b>Footnote 217:</b><a href="#footnotetag217"> (return) </a><p> A. Oldfield, "The Aborigines of Victoria,"
<i>Transactions of the Ethnological Society of London</i>, N.S. iii.
(1865) p. 245.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote218" name="footnote218"></a><b>Footnote 218:</b><a href="#footnotetag218"> (return) </a><p> P. Beveridge, in <i>Journal and Proceedings of the Royal
Society of New South Wales</i>, xvii. (1883) pp. 29 <i>sq.</i> Compare
R. Brough Smyth, <i>Aborigines of Victoria</i>, i. 100 note.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote219" name="footnote219"></a><b>Footnote 219:</b><a href="#footnotetag219"> (return) </a><p> (Sir) G. Grey, <i>Journals of Two Expeditions of
Discovery</i>, ii. 332 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote220" name="footnote220"></a><b>Footnote 220:</b><a href="#footnotetag220"> (return) </a><p> Rev. J. Roscoe, <i>The Baganda</i> (London, 1911), pp.
109 <i>sqq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote221" name="footnote221"></a><b>Footnote 221:</b><a href="#footnotetag221"> (return) </a><p> E. M. Curr, <i>The Australian Race</i> (Melbourne and
London, 1886-1887), i. 87.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote222" name="footnote222"></a><b>Footnote 222:</b><a href="#footnotetag222"> (return) </a><p> A. W. Howitt, <i>Native Tribes of South-East
Australia</i>, p. 463.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote223" name="footnote223"></a><b>Footnote 223:</b><a href="#footnotetag223"> (return) </a><p>A. W. Howitt, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 461.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote224" name="footnote224"></a><b>Footnote 224:</b><a href="#footnotetag224"> (return) </a><p>A. W. Howitt, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 473.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote225" name="footnote225"></a><b>Footnote 225:</b><a href="#footnotetag225"> (return) </a><p>A. W. Howitt, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 474.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote226" name="footnote226"></a><b>Footnote 226:</b><a href="#footnotetag226"> (return) </a><p> F. C. Urquhart, "Legends of the Australian Aborigines,"
<i>Journal of the Anthropological Institute</i>, xiv. (1885) p. 88.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote227" name="footnote227"></a><b>Footnote 227:</b><a href="#footnotetag227"> (return) </a><p> E. M. Curr, <i>The Australian Race</i>,
i. 87.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote228" name="footnote228"></a><b>Footnote 228:</b><a href="#footnotetag228"> (return) </a><p>Leviticus xix. 28; Deuteronomy xiv. 1.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote229" name="footnote229"></a><b>Footnote 229:</b><a href="#footnotetag229"> (return) </a><p> W. Stanbridge, "Tribes in the Central Part of Victoria,"
<i>Transactions of the Ethnological Society of London</i>, N.S. i.
(1861) p. 298.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote230" name="footnote230"></a><b>Footnote 230:</b><a href="#footnotetag230"> (return) </a><p>R. Brough Smyth, <i>Aborigines of Victoria</i>, i. 105.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote231" name="footnote231"></a><b>Footnote 231:</b><a href="#footnotetag231"> (return) </a><p> A. W. Howitt, <i>Native Tribes of South-East
Australia</i>, p. 459.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote232" name="footnote232"></a><b>Footnote 232:</b><a href="#footnotetag232"> (return) </a><p>A. W. Howitt, <i>op. cit</i>. p. 453.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote233" name="footnote233"></a><b>Footnote 233:</b><a href="#footnotetag233"> (return) </a><p> P. Beveridge, in <i>Journal and Proceedings of the Royal
Society of New South Wales</i>, xvii. (1883) pp. 28, 29.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote234" name="footnote234"></a><b>Footnote 234:</b><a href="#footnotetag234"> (return) </a><p>A. W. Howitt, <i>op. cit</i>. p. 466.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote235" name="footnote235"></a><b>Footnote 235:</b><a href="#footnotetag235"> (return) </a><p> E. J. Eyre, <i>Journals of Expeditions of Discovery into
Central Australia</i> (London, 1845), ii. 347.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote236" name="footnote236"></a><b>Footnote 236:</b><a href="#footnotetag236"> (return) </a><p> W. E. Roth, <i>Studies among the North-West-Central
Queensland Aborigines</i> (Brisbane and London, 1897), p. 164; compare
p. 165.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote237" name="footnote237"></a><b>Footnote 237:</b><a href="#footnotetag237"> (return) </a><p> Spencer and Gillen, <i>Native Tribes of Central
Australia</i>, p. 500.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote238" name="footnote238"></a><b>Footnote 238:</b><a href="#footnotetag238"> (return) </a><p>Spencer and Gillen, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 510.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote239" name="footnote239"></a><b>Footnote 239:</b><a href="#footnotetag239"> (return) </a><p> Spencer and Gillen, <i>Northern Tribes
of Central Australia</i>, pp. 516-552.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote240" name="footnote240"></a><b>Footnote 240:</b><a href="#footnotetag240"> (return) </a><p>Spencer and Gillen, <i>Native Tribes</i>, p. 510.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote241" name="footnote241"></a><b>Footnote 241:</b><a href="#footnotetag241"> (return) </a><p>Spencer and Gillen, <i>Northern Tribes</i>, p. 507.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote242" name="footnote242"></a><b>Footnote 242:</b><a href="#footnotetag242"> (return) </a><p>Spencer and Gillen, <i>Native Tribes</i>, p. 511.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote243" name="footnote243"></a><b>Footnote 243:</b><a href="#footnotetag243"> (return) </a><p> F. Bonney, "On some Customs of the Aborigines of the
River Darling," <i>Journal of the Anthropological Institute</i>, xiii.
(1884) pp. 134 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote244" name="footnote244"></a><b>Footnote 244:</b><a href="#footnotetag244"> (return) </a><p> Spencer and Gillen, <i>Native Tribes of Central
Australia</i>, pp. 507, 509 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote245" name="footnote245"></a><b>Footnote 245:</b><a href="#footnotetag245"> (return) </a><p> (Sir) G. Grey, <i>Journals of Two Expeditions of
Discovery</i>, ii. 332, quoting Mr. Bussel.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote246" name="footnote246"></a><b>Footnote 246:</b><a href="#footnotetag246"> (return) </a><p>Scholiast on Pindar, <i>Olymp.</i> i. 146.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote247" name="footnote247"></a><b>Footnote 247:</b><a href="#footnotetag247"> (return) </a><p>Homer, <i>Odyssey</i>, xi. 23 <i>sqq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote248" name="footnote248"></a><b>Footnote 248:</b><a href="#footnotetag248"> (return) </a><p> <i>The Magic Art and the Evolution
of Kings</i>, i. 91 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote249" name="footnote249"></a><b>Footnote 249:</b><a href="#footnotetag249"> (return) </a><p>J. Dawson, <i>Australian Aborigines</i>, p. 62.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote250" name="footnote250"></a><b>Footnote 250:</b><a href="#footnotetag250"> (return) </a><p>R. Brough Smyth, <i>Aborigines of Victoria</i>, i. 108.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote251" name="footnote251"></a><b>Footnote 251:</b><a href="#footnotetag251"> (return) </a><p> J. F. Mann, "Notes on the Aborigines of Australia,"
<i>Proceedings of the Geographical Society of Australasia</i>, i.
(Sydney, 1885) p. 48.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote252" name="footnote252"></a><b>Footnote 252:</b><a href="#footnotetag252"> (return) </a><p> Spencer and Gillen, <i>Northern Tribes of Central
Australia</i>, p. 506.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote253" name="footnote253"></a><b>Footnote 253:</b><a href="#footnotetag253"> (return) </a><p>Spencer and Gillen, <i>Northern Tribes</i>, p. 512.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote254" name="footnote254"></a><b>Footnote 254:</b><a href="#footnotetag254"> (return) </a><p> R. Sutherland Rattray, <i>Some Folk-lore Stories and
Songs in Chinyanja</i> (London, 1907), pp. 99-101, 182.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote255" name="footnote255"></a><b>Footnote 255:</b><a href="#footnotetag255"> (return) </a><p> F. Fawcett, "The Kondayamkottai Maravars, a Dravidian
Tribe of Tinnevelly, Southern India," <i>Journal of the Anthropological
Institute</i>, xxxiii. (1903) p. 64; Captain Wolsley Haig, "Notes on the
Rangari Caste in Barar," <i>Journal of the Asiatic Society of
Bengal</i>, lxx. Part iii. (1901) p. 8; E. Thurston, <i>Castes and
Tribes of Southern India</i> (Madras, 1909), iv. 226 (as to the
Lambadis), vi. 244 (as to the Raniyavas); compare <i>id.</i>,
<i>Ethnographic Notes in Southern India</i> (Madras, 1906), p. 155.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote256" name="footnote256"></a><b>Footnote 256:</b><a href="#footnotetag256"> (return) </a><p> E. Thurston, <i>Ethnographic Notes in Southern India</i>,
p. 207.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote257" name="footnote257"></a><b>Footnote 257:</b><a href="#footnotetag257"> (return) </a><p> L. K. Anantha Krishna Iyer, <i>The Cochin Tribes and
Castes</i> (Madras, 1909-1912), ii. 91, 112, 157, 360, 378.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote258" name="footnote258"></a><b>Footnote 258:</b><a href="#footnotetag258"> (return) </a><p> <i>The Grihya Sutras</i>, translated by H. Oldenberg,
Part i. p. 355 (<i>Sacred Books of the East</i>, vol. xxix.). Compare W.
Crooke, <i>Popular Religion and Folk-lore of Northern India</i>
(Westminster, 1896), i. 245.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote259" name="footnote259"></a><b>Footnote 259:</b><a href="#footnotetag259"> (return) </a><p> Ch. A. Sherring, <i>Western Tibet and the British
Borderland</i> (London, 1906), pp. 123 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote260" name="footnote260"></a><b>Footnote 260:</b><a href="#footnotetag260"> (return) </a><p> P. N. Bose, "Chhattisgar," <i>Journal of the Asiatic
Society of Bengal</i>, lix., Part i. (1891) p. 290.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote261" name="footnote261"></a><b>Footnote 261:</b><a href="#footnotetag261"> (return) </a><p> E. Thurston, <i>Ethnographic Notes in Southern India</i>,
p. 205.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote262" name="footnote262"></a><b>Footnote 262:</b><a href="#footnotetag262"> (return) </a><p> S. Powers, <i>Tribes of California</i> (Washington,
1877), p. 383.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote263" name="footnote263"></a><b>Footnote 263:</b><a href="#footnotetag263"> (return) </a><p> Maximilian Prinz zu Wied, <i>Reise in das Innere
Nord-America</i> (Coblenz, 1839-1841), ii. 235.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote264" name="footnote264"></a><b>Footnote 264:</b><a href="#footnotetag264"> (return) </a><p> T. de Pauly, <i>Description Ethnographique des Peuples de
la Russie, Peuples de l'Am&eacute;rique Russe</i> (St. Petersburg, 1862), p.
13.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote265" name="footnote265"></a><b>Footnote 265:</b><a href="#footnotetag265"> (return) </a><p> E. Seler, <i>Altmexikanische Studien</i>, ii. (Berlin,
1899) p. 42 (<i>Ver&ouml;ffentlichungen aus dem K&ouml;niglichen Museum f&uuml;r
V&ouml;lkerkunde</i>, vi. 2/4).</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote266" name="footnote266"></a><b>Footnote 266:</b><a href="#footnotetag266"> (return) </a><p> Spencer and Gillen, <i>Native Tribes
of Central Australia</i>, p. 497; <i>id.</i>,
<i>Northern Tribes of Central Australia</i>, p. 506.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote267" name="footnote267"></a><b>Footnote 267:</b><a href="#footnotetag267"> (return) </a><p> Spencer and Gillen, <i>Native Tribes
of Central Australia</i>, pp. 503-508.
The name of the final mourning ceremony
among the Arunta is <i>urpmilchima</i>.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote268" name="footnote268"></a><b>Footnote 268:</b><a href="#footnotetag268"> (return) </a><p> <i>The Golden Bough</i>, Second Edition (London, 1900),
i. 434 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote269" name="footnote269"></a><b>Footnote 269:</b><a href="#footnotetag269"> (return) </a><p> A. Biet, <i>Voyage de la France Equinoxiale en l'Isle de
Cayenne</i> (Paris, 1664), p. 392.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote270" name="footnote270"></a><b>Footnote 270:</b><a href="#footnotetag270"> (return) </a><p> Spencer and Gillen, <i>Northern
Tribes of Central Australia</i>, pp. 505
<i>sqq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote271" name="footnote271"></a><b>Footnote 271:</b><a href="#footnotetag271"> (return) </a><p> Spencer and Gillen, <i>Northern
Tribes of Central Australia</i>, pp. 506-508.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote272" name="footnote272"></a><b>Footnote 272:</b><a href="#footnotetag272"> (return) </a><p> Spencer and Gillen, <i>Northern
Tribes of Central Australia</i>, p. 530.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote273" name="footnote273"></a><b>Footnote 273:</b><a href="#footnotetag273"> (return) </a><p> Spencer and Gillen, <i>Northern Tribes of Central
Australia</i>, pp. 530-543.</p></blockquote>

<span class="pagenum"><a name="page170" id="page170"></a>[pg 170]</span>




<h2><a name="lecture-viii" id="lecture-viii"></a>LECTURE VIII</h2>

<h3>THE BELIEF IN IMMORTALITY AMONG THE NATIVES
OF THE TORRES STRAITS ISLANDS</h3>


<p class="side">The Islanders of Torres Straits. The Cambridge
Anthropological Expedition to Torres Straits.</p>

<p>In the last lecture I concluded my account of the belief in
immortality and worship of the dead, or rather of the
elements out of which such a worship might have grown,
among the aborigines of Australia. To-day we pass to the
consideration of a different people, the islanders of Torres
Straits. As you may know, Torres Straits are the broad
channel which divides Australia on the south from the great
island of New Guinea on the north. The small islands
which are scattered over the strait fall roughly into two
groups, a Western and an Eastern, of which the eastern
is at once the more isolated and the more fertile. In
appearance, character, and customs the inhabitants of all
these islands belong to the Papuan family, which inhabits
the western half of New Guinea, but in respect of language
there is a marked difference between the natives of the two
groups; for while the speech of the Western Islanders is
akin to that of the Australians, the speech of the Eastern
Islanders is akin to that of the Papuans of New Guinea.
The conclusion to be drawn from these facts appears to be
that the Western Islands of Torres Straits were formerly
inhabited by aborigines of the Australian family, and that
at a later time they were occupied by immigrants from New
Guinea, who adopted the language of the aboriginal inhabitants,
but gradually extinguished the aboriginal type
and character either by peaceful absorption or by conquest
and extermination.<a id="footnotetag274" name="footnotetag274"></a><a href="#footnote274"><sup>274</sup></a> Hence the Western Islanders of
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page171" id="page171"></a>[pg 171]</span>
Torres Straits form a transition both geographically and
ethnographically between the aborigines of Australia on the
one side and the aborigines of New Guinea on the other
side. Accordingly in our survey of the belief in immortality
among the lower races we may appropriately consider the
Islanders of Torres Straits immediately after the aborigines
of Australia and before we pass onward to other and more
distant races. These Islanders have a special claim on the
attention of a Cambridge lecturer, since almost all the exact
knowledge we possess of them we owe to the exertions of
Cambridge anthropologists and especially to Dr. A. C.
Haddon, who on his first visit to the islands in 1888
perceived the urgent importance of procuring an accurate
record of the old beliefs and customs of the natives before
it was too late, and who never rested till that record was
obtained, as it happily has been, first by his own unaided
researches in the islands, and afterwards by the united
researches of a band of competent enquirers. In the history
of anthropology the Cambridge Expedition to Torres Straits
in 1898 will always hold an honourable place, to the credit
of the University which promoted it and especially to that of
the zealous and devoted investigator who planned, organised,
and carried it to a successful conclusion. Practically all
that I shall have to tell you as to the beliefs and practices
of the Torres Straits Islanders is derived from the accurate
and laborious researches of Dr. Haddon and his colleagues.</p>

<p class="side">Social culture of the Torres Straits Islanders.</p>

<p>While the natives of Torres Straits are, or were at the
time of their discovery, in the condition which we call
savagery, they stand on a far higher level of social and
intellectual culture than the rude aborigines of Australia.
To indicate roughly the degree of advance we need only say
that, whereas the Australians are nomadic hunters and
fishers, entirely ignorant of agriculture, and destitute to a
great extent not only of houses but even of clothes, the
natives of Torres Straits live in settled villages and diligently
till the soil, raising a variety of crops, such as yams, sweet
potatoes, bananas, sugar-cane, and tobacco.<a id="footnotetag275" name="footnotetag275"></a><a href="#footnote275"><sup>275</sup></a> Of the two
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page172" id="page172"></a>[pg 172]</span>
groups of islands the eastern is the more fertile and the
inhabitants are more addicted to agriculture than are the
natives of the western islands, who, as a consequence of the
greater barrenness of the soil, have to eke out their subsistence
to a considerable extent by fishing.<a id="footnotetag276" name="footnotetag276"></a><a href="#footnote276"><sup>276</sup></a> And there is other
evidence to shew that the Eastern Islanders have attained
to a somewhat higher stage of social evolution than their
Western brethren;<a id="footnotetag277" name="footnotetag277"></a><a href="#footnote277"><sup>277</sup></a> the more favourable natural conditions
under which they live may possibly have contributed to
raise the general level of culture. One of the most marked
distinctions in this respect between the inhabitants of the
two groups is that, whereas a regular system of totemism
with its characteristic features prevails among the Western
Islanders, no such system nor even any very clear evidence
of its former existence is to be found among the Eastern
Islanders, whether it be that they never had it or, what is
more likely, that they once had but have lost it.<a id="footnotetag278" name="footnotetag278"></a><a href="#footnote278"><sup>278</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Belief of the Torres Straits Islanders in the existence of
the human spirit after death.</p>

<p>On the other hand, so far as regards our immediate
subject, the belief in immortality and the worship of the
dead, a general resemblance may be traced between the
creed and customs of the Eastern and Western tribes.
Both of them, like the Australian aborigines, firmly believe
in the existence of the human spirit after death, but unlike
the Australians they seem to have no idea that the souls of
the departed are ever born again into the world; the doctrine
of reincarnation, so widespread among the natives of Australia,
appears to have no place in the creed of their near neighbours
the Torres Straits Islanders, whose dead, like our own,
though they may haunt the living for a time, are thought
to depart at last to a distant spirit-land and to return no
more. At the same time neither in the one group nor in
the other is there any clear evidence of what may be called
a worship of the dead in the strict sense of the word, unless
we except the cults of certain more or less mythical heroes.
On this point the testimony of Dr. Haddon is definite as to the
Western Islanders. He says: "In no case have I obtained
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page173" id="page173"></a>[pg 173]</span>
in the Western Islands an indication of anything approaching
a worship of deceased persons ancestral or otherwise, with the
exception of the heroes shortly to be mentioned; neither is
there any suggestion that their own ancestors have been in
any way apotheosized."<a id="footnotetag279" name="footnotetag279"></a><a href="#footnote279"><sup>279</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Fear of the ghosts of the recently departed.</p>

<p>But if these savages have not, with the possible exception
of the cult of certain heroes, any regular worship of the
dead, they certainly have the germ out of which such
a worship might be developed, and that is a firm belief
in ghosts and in the mischief which they may do to
the living. The word for a ghost is <i>mari</i> in the West
and <i>mar</i> in the East: it means also a shadow or reflection,<a id="footnotetag280" name="footnotetag280"></a><a href="#footnote280"><sup>280</sup></a>
which seems to shew that these savages, like many others,
have derived their notion of the human soul from the
observation of shadows and reflections cast by the body on
the earth or on water. Further, the Western Islanders appear
to distinguish the ghosts of the recently departed (<i>mari</i>) from
the spirits of those who have been longer dead, which they
call <i>markai</i>;<a id="footnotetag281" name="footnotetag281"></a><a href="#footnote281"><sup>281</sup></a> and if we accept this distinction "we may
assert," according to Dr. Haddon, "that the Torres Straits
Islanders feared the ghosts but believed in the general
friendly disposition of the spirits of the departed."<a id="footnotetag282" name="footnotetag282"></a><a href="#footnote282"><sup>282</sup></a> Similarly
we saw that the Australian aborigines regard with fear the
ghosts of those who have just died, while they are either
indifferent to the spirits of those who have died many years
ago or even look upon them as beings of higher powers than
their descendants, whom they can benefit in various ways.
This sharp distinction between the spirits of the dead,
according to the date at which they died, is widespread,
perhaps universal among mankind. However truly the
dead were loved in their lifetime, however bitterly they were
mourned at their death, no sooner have they passed beyond
our ken than the thought of their ghosts seems to inspire
the generality of mankind with an instinctive fear and
horror, as if the character of even the best friends and
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page174" id="page174"></a>[pg 174]</span>
nearest relations underwent a radical change for the worse
as soon as they had shuffled off the mortal coil. But among
savages this belief in the moral deterioration of ghosts is
certainly much more marked than among civilised races.
Ghosts are dreaded both by the Western and the Eastern tribes
of Torres Straits. Thus in Mabuiag, one of the Western
Islands, the corpse was carried out of camp feet foremost,
else it was thought that the ghost would return and trouble
the survivors. Further, when the body had been laid upon
a stage or platform on clear level ground away from the
dwelling, the remains of any food and water of which the
deceased might have been partaking in his last moments
were carried out and placed beside the corpse lest the ghost
should come back to fetch them for himself, to the annoyance
and terror of his relations. This is the reason actually
alleged by the natives for what otherwise might have been
interpreted as a delicate mark of affection and thoughtful
care for the comfort of the departed. If next morning the
food was found scattered, the people said that the ghost was
angry and had thrown it about.<a id="footnotetag283" name="footnotetag283"></a><a href="#footnote283"><sup>283</sup></a> Further, on the day of
the death the mourners went into the gardens, slashed at the
taro, knocked down coco-nuts, pulled up sweet potatoes, and
destroyed bananas. We are told that "the food was
destroyed for the sake of the dead man, it was 'like good-bye.'"<a id="footnotetag284" name="footnotetag284"></a><a href="#footnote284"><sup>284</sup></a>
We may suspect that the real motive for the
destruction was the same as that for laying food and water
beside the corpse, namely, a wish to give the ghost no
excuse for returning to haunt and pester his surviving
relatives. How could he have the heart to return to the
desolated garden which in his lifetime it had been his pride
and joy to cultivate?</p>

<p class="side">Fear of the ghosts of the recently departed among the Murray
Islanders.</p>

<p>In Murray Island, also, which belongs to the Eastern
group, the ghost of a recently deceased person is much
dreaded; it is supposed to haunt the neighbourhood for
two or three months, and the elaborate funeral ceremonies
which these savages perform appear to be based on this
belief and to be intended, in fact, to dismiss the ghost from
the land of the living, where he is a very unwelcome visitor,
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page175" id="page175"></a>[pg 175]</span>
to his proper place in the land of the dead.<a id="footnotetag285" name="footnotetag285"></a><a href="#footnote285"><sup>285</sup></a> "The Murray
Islanders," says Dr. Haddon, "perform as many as possible
of the necessary ceremonies in order that the ghost of the
deceased might not feel slighted, for otherwise it was sure
to bring trouble on the relatives by causing strong winds to
destroy their gardens and break down their houses."<a id="footnotetag286" name="footnotetag286"></a><a href="#footnote286"><sup>286</sup></a> These
islanders still believe that a ghost may feel resentment when
his children are neglected or wronged, or when his lands or
goods are appropriated by persons who have no claim to
them. And this fear of the wrath of the ghost, Dr. Haddon
tells us, no doubt in past times acted as a wholesome deterrent
on evil-doers and helped to keep the people from crime,
though now-a-days they look rather to the law than to
ghosts for the protection of their rights and the avenging
of their wrongs.<a id="footnotetag287" name="footnotetag287"></a><a href="#footnote287"><sup>287</sup></a> Yet here, as in so many places, it would
seem that superstition has proved a useful crutch on which
morality can lean until it is strong enough to walk alone.
In the absence of the police the guardianship of law and
morality may be provisionally entrusted to ghosts, who, if
they are too fickle and uncertain in their temper to make
ideal constables, are at least better than nothing. With this
exception it does not appear that the moral code of the
Torres Straits Islanders derived any support or sanction
from their religion. No appeal was made by them to
totems, ancestors, or heroes; no punishment was looked for
from these quarters for any infringement of the rules and
restraints which hold society together.<a id="footnotetag288" name="footnotetag288"></a><a href="#footnote288"><sup>288</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">The island home of the dead.</p>

<p>The land of the dead to which the ghosts finally depart
is, in the opinion of the Torres Straits Islanders, a mythical
island in the far west or rather north-west. The Western
Islanders name it Kibu; the Eastern Islanders call it Boigu.
The name Kibu means "sundown."  It is natural enough
that islanders should place the home of the dead in some
far island of the sea to which no canoe of living men has
ever sailed, and it is equally natural that the fabulous island
should lie to westward where the sun goes down; for it
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page176" id="page176"></a>[pg 176]</span>
seems to be a common thought that the souls of the dead
are attracted by the great luminary, like moths by a candle,
and follow him when he sinks in radiant glory into the sea.
To take a single example, in the Maram district of Assam
it is forbidden to build houses facing westward, because that
is the direction in which the spirits of the dead go to their
long home.<a id="footnotetag289" name="footnotetag289"></a><a href="#footnote289"><sup>289</sup></a> But the Torres Straits Islanders have a special
reason, as Dr. Haddon has well pointed out, for thinking
that the home of the dead is away in the north-west; and the
reason is that in these latitudes the trade wind blows steady
and strong from the south-east for seven or eight months of
the year; so that for the most part the spirits have only to
let themselves go and the wind will sweep them away on its
pinions to their place of rest. How could the poor fluttering
things beat up to windward in the teeth of the blast?<a id="footnotetag290" name="footnotetag290"></a><a href="#footnote290"><sup>290</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Elaborate funeral ceremonies observed by the Torres Straits
Islanders.</p>

<p>The funeral ceremonies observed by the Torres Straits
Islanders were numerous and elaborate, and they present
some features of special interest. They succeeded each
other at intervals, sometimes of months, and amongst the
Eastern Islanders in particular there were so many of them
that, were it not that the bodies of the very young and the
very old were treated less ceremoniously, the living would
have been perpetually occupied in celebrating the obsequies
of the dead.<a id="footnotetag291" name="footnotetag291"></a><a href="#footnote291"><sup>291</sup></a> The obsequies differed somewhat from each
other in the East and the West, but they had two characteristics
in common: first, the skulls of the dead were commonly
preserved apart from the bodies and were consulted as
oracles; and, second, the ghosts of the recently deceased
were represented in dramatic ceremonies by masked men,
who mimicked the gait and gestures of the departed and
were thought by the women and children to be the very
ghosts themselves. But in details there were a good many
variations between the practice of the Eastern and the
Western Islanders. We will begin with the customs of the
Western Islanders.</p>

<span class="pagenum"><a name="page177" id="page177"></a>[pg 177]</span>

<p class="side">Funeral ceremonies observed by the Western Islanders. Removal
and preservation of the skull. Skulls used in divination.</p>

<p>When a death had taken place, the corpse was carried
out of the house and set on a staging supported by four
forked posts and covered by a roof of mats. The office of
attending to the body devolved properly on the brothers-in-law
(<i>imi</i>) of the deceased, who, while they were engaged in
the duties of the office, bore the special title of <i>mariget</i> or
"ghost-hand." It deserves to be noticed that these men
were always of a different totem from the deceased; for if
the dead person was a man, the <i>mariget</i> were his wife's
brothers and therefore had the same totem as the dead
man's wife, which, on account of the law of exogamy, always
differed from the totem of her husband. And if the dead
person was a woman, the <i>mariget</i> were her husband's brothers
and therefore had his totem, which necessarily differed from
hers. When they had discharged the preliminary duties to
the corpse, the brothers-in-law went and informed the relations
and friends. This they did not in words but by a
prescribed pantomime. For example, if the deceased had
had the crocodile for his totem, they imitated the ungainly
gait of crocodiles waddling and resting, if the deceased had
the snake for his totem, they in like manner mimicked the
crawling of a snake. The relations then painted their bodies
with white coral mud, cut their hair, plastered mud over their
heads, and cut off their ear ornaments or severed the distended
lobe of the ear as a sign of mourning. Then, armed
with bows and arrows, they came out to the stage where the
corpse was lying and let fly arrows at the men who were
in attendance on it, that is, at the brothers-in-law of the
deceased, who warded off the shafts as best they could.<a id="footnotetag292" name="footnotetag292"></a><a href="#footnote292"><sup>292</sup></a>
The meaning of this sham attack on the men who were
discharging the last offices of respect to the dead comes
out clearly in another ceremony which was performed some
time afterwards, as we shall see presently. For five or six
days the corpse remained on the platform or bier watched
by the brothers-in-law, who had to prevent certain large
lizards from devouring it and to frighten away any prowling
ghosts that might be lured to the spot by the stench. After
the lapse of several days the relations returned to the body,
mourned, and beat the roof of the bier, while they raised a
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page178" id="page178"></a>[pg 178]</span>
shout to drive off any part of the dead man's spirit that
might be lingering about his mouldering remains. The
reason for doing so was, that the time had now arrived
for cutting off the head of the corpse, and they thought that
the head would not come off easily if the man's spirit were
still in the body; he might reasonably be expected to hold
on tight to it and not to resign, without a struggle, so
valuable a part of his person. When the poor ghost had
thus been chased away with shouts and blows, the principal
brother-in-law came forward and performed the amputation
by sawing off the head. Having done so, he usually placed
it in a nest of termites or white ants in order that the insects
might pick it clean; but sometimes for the same purpose he
deposited it in a creek. When it was thoroughly clean, the
grinning white skull was painted red all over and placed in
a decorated basket. Then followed the ceremony of formally
handing over this relic of the dead to the relations. The
brothers-in-law, who had been in attendance on the body,
painted themselves black all over, covered their heads with
leaves, and walked in solemn procession, headed by the chief
brother-in-law, who carried the skull in the basket. Meantime
the male relatives were awaiting them, seated on a large
mat in the ceremonial ground, while the women grouped
themselves in the background. As the procession of men
approached bearing the skull, the mourners shot arrows over
their heads as a sign of anger at them for having decapitated
their relation. But this was a mere pretence, probably intended
to soothe and flatter the angry ghost: the arrows
flew over the men without hurting them.<a id="footnotetag293" name="footnotetag293"></a><a href="#footnote293"><sup>293</sup></a> Similarly in
ancient Egypt the man who cut open a corpse for embalmment
had no sooner done his office than he fled precipitately,
pursued by the relations with stones and curses, because he
had wounded and mangled the body of their kinsman.<a id="footnotetag294" name="footnotetag294"></a><a href="#footnote294"><sup>294</sup></a>
Sometimes the skull was made up to resemble the head
of a living man: an artificial nose of wood and beeswax
supplied the place of a nose of flesh; pearl-shells were
inserted in the empty eye-balls; and any teeth that might
be missing were represented by pieces of wood, while the
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page179" id="page179"></a>[pg 179]</span>
lower jaw was lashed firmly to the cranium.<a id="footnotetag295" name="footnotetag295"></a><a href="#footnote295"><sup>295</sup></a> Whether thus
decorated or not, the skulls of the dead were preserved and
used in divination. Whenever a skull was to be thus consulted,
it was first cleaned, repainted, and either anointed
with certain plants or placed upon them. Then the
enquirer enjoined the skull to speak the truth, and placing
it on his pillow at night went to sleep. The dream which
he dreamed that night was the answer of the skull, which
spoke with a clappering noise like that of teeth chattering
together. When people went on voyages, they used to take a
divining skull with them in the stern of the canoe.<a id="footnotetag296" name="footnotetag296"></a><a href="#footnote296"><sup>296</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Great death-dance of the Western Islanders. The dead
personated by masked actors.</p>

<p>The great funeral ceremony, or rather death-dance, of
the Western Islanders took place in the island of Pulu.
When the time came for it, a few men would meet and
make the necessary preparations.  The ceremony was
always performed on the sacred or ceremonial ground
(<i>kwod</i>), and the first thing to do was to enclose this
ground, for the sake of privacy, with a screen of mats
hung on a framework of wood and bamboos.  When the
screen had been erected, the drums which were to be used
by the orchestra were placed in position beside it. Then
the relations were summoned to attend the performance.
The ceremony might be performed for a number of recently
deceased people at once, and it varied in importance and
elaboration according to the importance and the number
of the deceased whose obsequies were being celebrated.
The chief differences were in the number of the performers
and the greater or less display of scenic apparatus. The
head-dresses or leafy masks worn by the actors in the
sacred drama were made secretly in the bush; no woman
or uninitiated man might witness the operation.  When
all was ready, and the people were assembled, the men
being stationed in front and the women and children in
the background, the disguised actors appeared on the
scene and played the part of the dead, each one of them
mimicking the gait and actions of the particular man or
woman whom he personated; for all the parts were played
by men, no woman might act in these ceremonies. The
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page180" id="page180"></a>[pg 180]</span>
order in which the various ghosts were to appear on the
scene was arranged beforehand; so that when the actors
came forward from behind the screen, the spectators knew
which of the dead they were supposed to have before them.
The performers usually danced in pairs, and vanished behind
the screen when their dance was finished. Thus one pair
would follow another till the play was over. Besides the
actors who played the serious and solemn part of the dead,
there was usually a clown who skipped about and cut capers,
tumbling down and getting up again, to make the spectators
laugh and so to relieve the strain on their emotions, which
were deeply stirred by this dance of death. The beat of
the drums proclaimed that the sacred drama was at an end.
Then followed a great feast, at which special portions of food
were assigned by the relatives of the deceased to the actors
who had personated them.<a id="footnotetag297" name="footnotetag297"></a><a href="#footnote297"><sup>297</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Intention of the ceremonies.</p>

<p>As to the intention of these curious dramatic performances
we have no very definite information. Dr. Haddon
says: "The idea evidently was to convey to the mourners
the assurance that the ghost was alive and that in the person
of the dancer he visited his friends; the assurance of his life
after death comforted the bereaved ones."<a id="footnotetag298" name="footnotetag298"></a><a href="#footnote298"><sup>298</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Funeral ceremonies observed by the Eastern Islanders. The
soul of the dead carried away by a masked actor.</p>

<p>In the Eastern Islands of Torres Straits the funeral ceremonies
seem to have been even more numerous and elaborate.
The body was at first laid on the ground on a mat outside the
house, if the weather were fine. There friends wept and wailed
over it, the nearest relations, such as the wife and mother,
sitting at the head of the corpse. About an hour after the
sun had set, the drummers and singers arrived. All night
the drums beat and the people sang, but just as the dawn was
breaking the wild music died away into silence. The wants
of the living were now attended to: the assembled people
breakfasted on green coco-nuts; and then, about an hour
after sunrise, they withdrew from the body and took up a
position a little further off to witness the next act of the
drama of death. The drums now struck up again in quicker
time to herald the approach of an actor, who could be heard,
but not seen, shaking his rattle in the adjoining forest.
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page181" id="page181"></a>[pg 181]</span>
Faster and faster beat the drums, louder and louder rose the
singing, till the spectators were wound up to a pitch of
excitement bordering on frenzy. Then at last a strange
figure burst from the forest and came skipping and posturing
towards the corpse. It was Terer, a spirit or mythical being
who had come to fetch the soul of the departed and to bear
it far away to its place of rest in the island beyond the sea.
On his head he wore a wreath of leaves: a mask made of
the mid-ribs of coco-nut leaves or of croton leaves hid his
face: a long feather of the white tern nodded on his brow;
and a mantle of green coco-nut leaves concealed his body
from the shoulders to the knees. His arms were painted
red: round his neck he wore a crescent of pearl-shell: in
his left hand he carried a bow and arrows, and in his
mouth a piece of wood, to which were affixed two rings
of green coco-nut leaf. Thus attired he skipt forwards,
rattling a bunch of nuts in his right hand, bending his head
now to one side and now to another, swaying his body backwards
and forwards, but always keeping time to the measured
beat of the drums. At last, after a series of rapid jumps
from one foot to the other, he ended his dance, and turning
round fled away westward along the beach. He had taken
the soul of the dead and was carrying it away to the spirit-land.
The excitement of the women now rose to the
highest pitch. They screamed and jumped from the ground
raising their arms in air high above their heads. Shrieking
and wailing all pursued the retreating figure along the beach,
the mother or widow of the dead man casting herself again
and again prostrate on the sand and throwing it in handfuls
over her head. Among the pursuers was another masked
man, who represented Aukem, the mother of Terer. She,
or rather he, was dressed in dried banana leaves: long
tufts of grass hung from her head over her face and shoulders;
and in her mouth she carried a lighted bundle of dry coco-nut
fibre, which emitted clouds of smoke. With an unsteady
rickety gait the beldame hobbled after her rapidly retreating
son, who turned round from time to time, skipping and
posturing derisively as if to taunt her, and then hurrying
away again westward. Thus the two quaint figures retreated
further and further, he in front and she behind, till they were
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page182" id="page182"></a>[pg 182]</span>
lost to view. But still the drums continued to beat and the
singers to chant their wild song, when nothing was to be
seen but the deserted beach with the sky and the drifting
clouds above and the white waves breaking on the strand.
Meantime the two actors in the sacred drama made their
way westward till their progress was arrested by the sea.
They plunged into it and swimming westward unloosed their
leafy envelopes and let them float away to the spirit-land in
the far island beyond the rolling waters. But the men
themselves swam back to the beach, resumed the dress of
ordinary mortals, and quietly mingled with the assembly of
mourners.<a id="footnotetag299" name="footnotetag299"></a><a href="#footnote299"><sup>299</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Personation of ghosts by masked men.</p>

<p>Such was the first act of the drama. The second
followed immediately about ten o'clock in the morning.
The actors in it were twenty or thirty men disguised as
ghosts or spirits of the dead (<i>zera markai</i>). Their bodies
were blackened from the neck to the ankles, but the lower
part of their faces and their feet were dyed bright red, and a
red triangle was painted on the front of their bodies. They
wore head-dresses of grass with long projecting ribs of coco-nut
leaves, and a long tail of grass behind reaching down to
the level of the knees. In their hands they held long ribs
of coco-nut leaf. They were preceded by a curious figure
called <i>pager</i>, a man covered from head to foot with dry grass
and dead banana leaves, who sidled along with an unsteady
rolling gait in a zigzag course, keeping his head bowed, his
red-painted hands clasped in front of his face, and his elbows
sticking out from both sides of his body. In spite of his
erratic course and curious mode of progression he drew away
from the troop of ghosts behind him and came on towards
the spectators, jerking his head from side to side, his hands
shaking, and wailing as he went. Behind him marched
the ghosts, with their hands crossed behind their backs and
their faces looking out to sea. When they drew near to the
orchestra, who were singing and drumming away, they halted
and formed in two lines facing the spectators. They now
all assumed the familiar attitude of a fencer on guard, one
foot and arm advanced, the other foot and arm drawn back,
and lunged to right and left as if they were stabbing something
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page183" id="page183"></a>[pg 183]</span>
with the long ribs of the coco-nut leaves which they
held in their hands. This man&oelig;uvre they repeated several
times, the orchestra playing all the time. Then they
retreated into the forest, but only to march out again, form
in line, stand on guard, and lunge again and again at the
invisible foe. This appears to have been the whole of the
second act of the drama. No explanation of it is given.
We can only conjecture that the band of men, who seem
from their name (<i>zera markai</i>) to have represented the ghosts
or spirits of the dead, came to inform the living that the
departed brother or sister had joined the majority, and that
any attempt to rescue him or her would be vain. That
perhaps was the meaning of the solemn pantomime of the
lines of actors standing on guard and lunging again and
again towards the spectators. But I must acknowledge that
this is a mere conjecture of my own.<a id="footnotetag300" name="footnotetag300"></a><a href="#footnote300"><sup>300</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Blood and hair offered to the dead.</p>

<p>Be that as it may, when this act of the drama was
over, the mourners took up the body and with weeping and
wailing laid it on a wooden framework resting on four posts
at a little distance from the house of the deceased. Youths
who had lately been initiated, and girls who had attained to
puberty, now had the lobes of their ears cut. The blood
streamed down over their faces and bodies and was allowed
to drip on the feet of the corpse as a mark of pity or sorrow.<a id="footnotetag301" name="footnotetag301"></a><a href="#footnote301"><sup>301</sup></a>
The other relatives cut their hair and left the shorn locks in
a heap under the body. Blood and hair were probably
regarded as offerings made to the departed kinsman or kinswoman.
We saw that the Australian aborigines in like
manner cut themselves and allow the blood to drip on
the corpse; and they also offer their hair to the dead,
cutting off parts of their beards, singeing them, and throwing
them on the corpse.<a id="footnotetag302" name="footnotetag302"></a><a href="#footnote302"><sup>302</sup></a> Having placed the body on the stage
and deposited their offerings of hair under it, the relatives
took some large yams, cut them in pieces, and laid the pieces
beside the body in order to serve as food for the ghost,
who was supposed to eat it at night.<a id="footnotetag303" name="footnotetag303"></a><a href="#footnote303"><sup>303</sup></a> This notion seems
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page184" id="page184"></a>[pg 184]</span>
inconsistent with the belief that the soul of the departed
had already been carried off to Boigu, the island of the dead;
but consistency in such matters is as little to be looked for
among savages as among ourselves.</p>

<p class="side">Mummification of the corpse.</p>

<p>When the body had remained a few days on the stage
in the open air, steps were taken to convert it into a
mummy. For this purpose it was laid in a small canoe
manned by some young people of the same sex as the
deceased. They paddled it across the lagoon to the reef
and there rubbed off the skin, extracted the bowels from
the abdomen and the brain from the skull, and having sewed
up the hole in the abdomen and thrown the bowels into
the sea, they brought the remains back to land and lashed
them to the wooden framework with string, while they fixed
a small stick to the lower jaw to keep it from drooping.
The framework with its ghastly burden was fastened vertically
to two posts behind the house, where it was concealed
from public view by a screen of coco-nut leaves. Holes were
pricked with an arrow between the fingers and toes to allow
the juices of decomposition to escape, and a fire was kindled
and kept burning under the stage to dry up the body.<a id="footnotetag304" name="footnotetag304"></a><a href="#footnote304"><sup>304</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Garb of mourners. Cuttings for the dead.</p>

<p>About ten days after the death a feast of bananas,
yams, and germinating coco-nuts was partaken of by the
relations and friends, and portions were distributed to the
assembled company, who carried them home in baskets. It
was on this occasion that kinsfolk and friends assumed
the garb of mourners. Their faces and bodies were
smeared with a mixture of greyish earth and water: the
ashes of a wood fire were strewn on their heads; and fringes
of sago leaves were fastened on their arms and legs. A
widow wore besides a special petticoat made of the inner
bark of the fig-tree; the ends of it were passed between her
legs and tucked up before and behind. She had to leave
her hair unshorn during the whole period of her widowhood;
and in time it grew into a huge mop of a light yellow colour
in consequence of the ashes with which it was smeared.
This coating of ashes, as well as the grey paint on her face
and body, she was expected to renew from time to time.<a id="footnotetag305" name="footnotetag305"></a><a href="#footnote305"><sup>305</sup></a>
It was also on the occasion of this feast, on or about the tenth
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page185" id="page185"></a>[pg 185]</span>
day after death, that young kinsfolk of the deceased had
certain patterns cut in their flesh by a sharp shell. The
persons so operated on were young adults of both sexes
nearly related to the dead man or woman. Women generally
operated on women and men on men. The patients
were held down during the operation, which was painful, and
they sometimes fainted under it. The patterns were first
drawn on the skin in red paint and then cut in with the
shell. They varied a good deal in shape. Some consisted
of arrangements of lines and scrolls; a favourite one, which
was only carved on women, represented a centipede. The
blood which flowed from the wounds was allowed to drip on
the corpse, thus forming a sacrifice or tribute to the dead.<a id="footnotetag306" name="footnotetag306"></a><a href="#footnote306"><sup>306</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">The Dance of Death. The nocturnal dance.</p>

<p>When the body had remained some time, perhaps
four or six months, on the scaffold, and the process of
mummification was far advanced, a dance of death was
held to celebrate the final departure of the spirit for its
long home. Several men, seldom exceeding four in
number, were chosen to act the part of ghosts, including
the ghost of him or her in whose honour the performance
was specially held. Further, about a dozen men were
selected to form a sort of chorus; their business was
to act as intermediaries between the living and the dead,
summoning up the shades, serving as their messengers,
and informing the people of their presence. The costume
of the ghosts was simple, consisting of nothing but a head-dress
and shoulder-band of leaves. The chorus, if we
may call them so, wore girdles of leaves round their
waists and wreaths of leaves on their heads. When
darkness had fallen, the first act of the drama was played.
The chorus stood in line opposite the mummy. Beyond
them stood or sat the drummers, and beyond them again
the audience was crowded on the beach, the women
standing furthest from the mummy and nearest to the sea.
The drummers now struck up, chanting at the same time
to the beat of the drums. This was the overture. Then
a shrill whistle in the forest announced the approach of
a ghost. The subdued excitement among the spectators,
especially among the women, was intense. Meantime the
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page186" id="page186"></a>[pg 186]</span>
chorus, holding each other's hands, advanced sidelong
towards the mummy with strange gestures, the hollow
thud of their feet as they stamped on the ground being
supposed to be the tread of the ghosts. Thus they
advanced to the red-painted mummy with its grinning
mouth. Behind it by this time stood one of the ghosts,
and between him and the chorus a dialogue ensued.
"Whose ghost is there?" called out the chorus; and a
strident voice answered from the darkness, "The ghost
of so and so is here." At that the chorus retreated in the
same order as they had advanced, and again the hollow
thud of their feet sounded in the ears of the excited
spectators as the tramp of the dead. On reaching the
drummers in their retreat the chorus called out some
words of uncertain meaning, which have been interpreted,
"Spirit of so-and-so, away at sea, loved little." At all
events, the name of a dead person was pronounced, and
at the sound the women, thrilled with excitement, leaped
from the ground, holding their hands aloft; then hurled
themselves prone on the sand, throwing it over their heads
and wailing. The drums now beat faster and a wild weird
chant rose into the air, then died away and all was silent,
except perhaps for the lapping of the waves on the sand
or the muffled thunder of the surf afar off on the barrier
reef. Thus one ghost after another was summoned from
the dusty dead and vanished again into the darkness.
When all had come and gone, the leader of the chorus,
who kept himself invisible behind the screen save for a
moment when he was seen by the chorus to glide behind
the mummy on its stage, blew a whistle and informed the
spectators in a weird voice that all the ghosts that had
been summoned that night would appear before them in
broad day light on the morrow. With that the audience
dispersed. But the men who had played the parts of the
ghosts came forward and sat down with the chorus and
the drummers on mats beside the body. There they
remained singing to the beat of the drums till the first faint
streaks of dawn glimmered in the east.</p>

<p class="side">The noonday dance. The ghosts represented by masked actors.</p>

<p>Next morning the men assembled beside the body
to inspect the actors who were to personate the ghosts,
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page187" id="page187"></a>[pg 187]</span>
in order to make sure that they had learned their parts
well and could mimick to the life the figure and gait of
the particular dead persons whom they represented. By
the time that these preparations were complete, the
morning had worn on to noon. The audience was already
assembled on the beach and on the long stretch of sand
left by the ebbing tide; for the hour of the drama was
always fixed at low water so as to allow ample space for
the spectators to stand at a distance from the players,
lest they should detect the features of the living under
the masks of the dead. All being ready, the drummers
marched in and took up their position just above the
beach, facing the audience. The overture having been
concluded, the first ghost was seen to glide from the forest
and come dancing towards the beach. If he represented
a woman, his costume was more elaborate than it had
been under the shades of evening the night before. His
whole body was painted red. A petticoat of leaves
encircled his waist: a mask of leaves, surmounted by tufts
of cassowary and pigeon feathers, concealed his head;
and in his hands he carried brooms of coco-nut palm leaf.
If he personated a man, he held a bow in one hand and
an arrow in the other, and his costume was the usual
dress of a dancer, with the addition of a head-dress
of leaves and feathers and a diamond-shaped ornament
of bamboo, which he held in his teeth and which entirely
concealed his features. He approached dancing and
mimicking the gestures of the person whom he represented.
At the sight the women wailed, and the widow would cry
out, "That's my husband," the mother would cry out,
"That's my son." Then suddenly the drummers would
call out, "Ah! Ah! Ai! Ai!" at which the women would fall
to the ground, while the dancer retreated into the forest.
In this way one ghost after the other would make his
appearance, play his part, and vanish. Occasionally two
of them would appear and dance together. The women
and children, we are told, really believed that the actors
were the ghosts of their dead kinsfolk. When the first
dancer had thus danced before the people, he advanced
with the drummers towards the framework on which the
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page188" id="page188"></a>[pg 188]</span>
mummy was stretched, and there he repeated his dance
before it. But the people were not allowed to witness
this mystery; they remained wailing on the beach, for
this was the moment at which the ghost of the dead man
or woman was supposed to be departing for ever to the
land of shades.<a id="footnotetag307" name="footnotetag307"></a><a href="#footnote307"><sup>307</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Preservation of the mummy.</p>

<p>Some days afterwards the mummy was affixed to a new
framework of bamboo and carried into the hut. In former
times the huts were of a beehive shape, and the framework
which supported the mummy was fastened to the central
post on which the roof rested. The body thus stood erect
within the house. Its dried skin had been painted red.
The empty orbits of the eyes had been filled with pieces of
pearl-shell of the nautilus to imitate eyes, two round spots
of black beeswax standing for the pupils. The ears were
decorated with shreds of the sago-palm or with grey seeds.
A frontlet of pearl-shell nautilus adorned the head, and a
crescent of pearl-shell the breast. In the darkness of the
old-fashioned huts the body looked like a living person.
In course of time it became almost completely mummified
and as light as if it were made of paper. Swinging to and
fro with every breath of wind, it turned its gleaming eyes
at each movement of the head. The hut was now
surrounded by posts and ropes to prevent the ghost from
making his way into it and taking possession of his old
body. Ghosts were supposed to appear only at night, and
it was imagined that in the dark they would stumble against
the posts and entangle themselves in the ropes, till in despair
they desisted from the attempt to penetrate into the hut.
In time the mummy mouldered away and fell to pieces. If
the deceased was a male, the head was removed and a wax
model of it made and given to the brother, whether blood
or tribal brother, of the dead man. The head thus prepared
or modelled in wax, with eyes of pearl-shell, was used in
divination. The decaying remains of the body were taken
to the beach and placed on a platform supported by four
posts. That was their last resting-place.<a id="footnotetag308" name="footnotetag308"></a><a href="#footnote308"><sup>308</sup></a></p>

<span class="pagenum"><a name="page189" id="page189"></a>[pg 189]</span>

<p class="side">General summary. Dramas of the dead.</p>

<p>To sum up the foregoing evidence, we may say that if
the beliefs and practices of the Torres Straits Islanders
which I have described do not amount to a worship of the
dead, they contain the elements out of which such a worship
might easily have been developed. The preservation of the
bodies of the dead, or at least their skulls, in the houses, and
the consultation of them as oracles, prove that the spirits of
the dead are supposed to possess knowledge which may be
of great use to the living; and the custom suggests that in
other countries the images of the gods may perhaps have
been evolved out of the mummies of the dead. Further, the
dramatic representation of the ghosts in a series of striking
and impressive performances indicates how a sacred and in
time a secular drama may elsewhere have grown out of a
purely religious celebration concerned with the souls of the
departed. In this connexion we are reminded of Professor
Ridgeway's theory that ancient Greek tragedy originated in
commemorative songs and dances performed at the tomb for
the purpose of pleasing and propitiating the ghost of the
mighty dead.<a id="footnotetag309" name="footnotetag309"></a><a href="#footnote309"><sup>309</sup></a> Yet the mortuary dramas of the Torres
Straits Islanders can hardly be adduced to support that
theory by analogy so long as we are ignorant of the precise
significance which the natives themselves attached to these
remarkable performances. There is no clear evidence that
the dramas were acted for the amusement and gratification
of the ghost rather than for the edification of the spectators.
One important act certainly represented, and might well be
intended to facilitate, the final departure of the spirit of the
deceased to the land of souls. But the means taken to
effect that departure might be adopted in the interests of
the living quite as much as out of a tender regard for the
welfare of the dead, since the ghost of the recently departed
is commonly regarded with fear and aversion, and his
surviving relations resort to many expedients for the purpose
of ridding themselves of his unwelcome presence.</p>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote274" name="footnote274"></a><b>Footnote 274:</b><a href="#footnotetag274"> (return) </a><p> S. H. Ray, in <i>Reports of the Cambridge Anthropological
Expedition to Torres Straits</i>, iii. (Cambridge, 1907) pp. 509-511; A.
C. Haddon, "The Religion of the Torres Straits Islanders,"
<i>Anthropological Essays presented to E. B. Tyler</i> (Oxford, 1907),
p. 175.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote275" name="footnote275"></a><b>Footnote 275:</b><a href="#footnotetag275"> (return) </a><p> <i>Cambridge Anthropological Expedition to Torres
Straits</i>, iv. 92 <i>sqq.</i>, 144 <i>sqq.</i>, v. 346, vi. 207
<i>sqq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote276" name="footnote276"></a><b>Footnote 276:</b><a href="#footnotetag276"> (return) </a><p> A. C. Haddon, in <i>Anthropological Essays presented to
E. B. Tylor</i>, p. 186.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote277" name="footnote277"></a><b>Footnote 277:</b><a href="#footnotetag277"> (return) </a><p> <i>Cambridge Anthropological Expedition to Torres
Straits</i>, vi. 254 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote278" name="footnote278"></a><b>Footnote 278:</b><a href="#footnotetag278"> (return) </a><p> <i>Cambridge Anthropological Expedition to Torres
Straits</i>, vi. 254 <i>sqq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote279" name="footnote279"></a><b>Footnote 279:</b><a href="#footnotetag279"> (return) </a><p> A. C. Haddon, in <i>Anthropological Essays presented to
E. B. Tylor</i>, p. 181.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote280" name="footnote280"></a><b>Footnote 280:</b><a href="#footnotetag280"> (return) </a><p> <i>Cambridge Anthropological Expedition to Torres
Straits</i>, v. 355 <i>sq.</i>, vi. 251; A. C. Haddon, in
<i>Anthropological Essays presented to E. B. Tylor</i>, p. 179.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote281" name="footnote281"></a><b>Footnote 281:</b><a href="#footnotetag281"> (return) </a><p> For authorities see the references in the preceding
note.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote282" name="footnote282"></a><b>Footnote 282:</b><a href="#footnotetag282"> (return) </a><p> <i>Cambridge Anthropological Expedition to Torres
Straits</i>, vi. 253.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote283" name="footnote283"></a><b>Footnote 283:</b><a href="#footnotetag283"> (return) </a><p> <i>Cambridge Anthropological Expedition to Torres
Straits</i>, v. 248, 249.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote284" name="footnote284"></a><b>Footnote 284:</b><a href="#footnotetag284"> (return) </a><p><i>Id.</i>, p. 250.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote285" name="footnote285"></a><b>Footnote 285:</b><a href="#footnotetag285"> (return) </a><p> <i>Cambridge Anthropological Expedition to Torres
Straits</i>, vi. 253; A. C. Haddon, in <i>Anthropological Essays
presented to E. B. Tylor</i>, p. 180.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote286" name="footnote286"></a><b>Footnote 286:</b><a href="#footnotetag286"> (return) </a><p>A. C. Haddon, <i>l.c.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote287" name="footnote287"></a><b>Footnote 287:</b><a href="#footnotetag287"> (return) </a><p> A. C. Haddon, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 182 <i>sq.</i>;
<i>Cambridge Anthropological Expedition to Torres Straits</i>, vi. 127.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote288" name="footnote288"></a><b>Footnote 288:</b><a href="#footnotetag288"> (return) </a><p>A. C. Haddon, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 183.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote289" name="footnote289"></a><b>Footnote 289:</b><a href="#footnotetag289"> (return) </a><p> T. C. Hodson, <i>The Naga Tribes
of Manipur</i> (London, 1911), p. 43.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote290" name="footnote290"></a><b>Footnote 290:</b><a href="#footnotetag290"> (return) </a><p> <i>Cambridge Anthropological Expedition to Torres
Straits</i>, v. 355 <i>sq.</i>, vi. 252. In the former passage Dr.
Haddon seems to identify Boigu with the island of that name off the
south coast of New Guinea; in the latter he prefers to regard it as
mythical.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote291" name="footnote291"></a><b>Footnote 291:</b><a href="#footnotetag291"> (return) </a><p> <i>Cambridge Anthropological Expedition
to Torres Straits</i>, vi. 127.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote292" name="footnote292"></a><b>Footnote 292:</b><a href="#footnotetag292"> (return) </a><p> <i>Cambridge Anthropological Expedition to Torres
Straits</i>, v. 248 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote293" name="footnote293"></a><b>Footnote 293:</b><a href="#footnotetag293"> (return) </a><p> <i>Cambridge Anthropological Expedition to Torres
Straits</i>, v. 250 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote294" name="footnote294"></a><b>Footnote 294:</b><a href="#footnotetag294"> (return) </a><p>Diodorus Siculus, i. 91.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote295" name="footnote295"></a><b>Footnote 295:</b><a href="#footnotetag295"> (return) </a><p> <i>Cambridge Anthropological Expedition to Torres
Straits</i>, v. 258.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote296" name="footnote296"></a><b>Footnote 296:</b><a href="#footnotetag296"> (return) </a><p><i>Id.</i>, p. 362.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote297" name="footnote297"></a><b>Footnote 297:</b><a href="#footnotetag297"> (return) </a><p> <i>Cambridge Anthropological Expedition to Torres
Straits</i>, v. 252-256.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote298" name="footnote298"></a><b>Footnote 298:</b><a href="#footnotetag298"> (return) </a><p> <i>Cambridge Anthropological Expedition to Torres
Straits</i>, v. 256.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote299" name="footnote299"></a><b>Footnote 299:</b><a href="#footnotetag299"> (return) </a><p> <i>Cambridge Anthropological Expedition to Torres
Straits</i>, vi. 129-133.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote300" name="footnote300"></a><b>Footnote 300:</b><a href="#footnotetag300"> (return) </a><p> <i>Cambridge Anthropological Expedition
to Torres Straits</i>, vi. 133 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote301" name="footnote301"></a><b>Footnote 301:</b><a href="#footnotetag301"> (return) </a><p><i>Id.</i>, pp. 135, 154.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote302" name="footnote302"></a><b>Footnote 302:</b><a href="#footnotetag302"> (return) </a><p> (Sir) George Grey, <i>Journals of Two Expeditions of
Discovery in North-West and Western Australia</i> (London, 1841), ii.
335.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote303" name="footnote303"></a><b>Footnote 303:</b><a href="#footnotetag303"> (return) </a><p> <i>Cambridge Anthropological Expedition to Torres
Straits</i>, vi. 135.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote304" name="footnote304"></a><b>Footnote 304:</b><a href="#footnotetag304"> (return) </a><p><i>Op. cit.</i> p. 136.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote305" name="footnote305"></a><b>Footnote 305:</b><a href="#footnotetag305"> (return) </a><p><i>Op. cit.</i> pp. 138, 153, 157 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote306" name="footnote306"></a><b>Footnote 306:</b><a href="#footnotetag306"> (return) </a><p><i>Op. cit.</i> pp. 154 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote307" name="footnote307"></a><b>Footnote 307:</b><a href="#footnotetag307"> (return) </a><p> <i>Cambridge Anthropological Expedition
to Torres Straits</i>, vi. 139-141.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote308" name="footnote308"></a><b>Footnote 308:</b><a href="#footnotetag308"> (return) </a><p> <i>Cambridge Anthropological Expedition
to Torres Straits</i>, vi. 148 <i>sq.</i>
As to divination with skulls or waxen
models, see <i>id.</i>, pp. 266 <i>sqq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote309" name="footnote309"></a><b>Footnote 309:</b><a href="#footnotetag309"> (return) </a><p> W. Ridgeway, <i>The Origin of
Tragedy, with special reference to the
Greek Tragedians</i> (Cambridge, 1910),
pp. 26 <i>sqq.</i></p></blockquote>

<span class="pagenum"><a name="page190" id="page190"></a>[pg 190]</span>




<h2><a name="lecture-ix" id="lecture-ix"></a>LECTURE IX</h2>

<h3>THE BELIEF IN IMMORTALITY AMONG THE NATIVES OF BRITISH NEW
GUINEA</h3>


<p class="side">The two races of New Guinea, the Papuan and the Melanesian.</p>

<p>In my last lecture I dealt with the islanders of Torres Straits,
and shewed that these savages firmly believe in the existence
of the human soul after death, and that if their beliefs and
customs in this respect do not always amount to an actual
worship of the departed, they contain at least the elements out
of which such a worship might easily be developed. To-day
we pass from the small islands of Torres Straits to the vast
neighbouring island, almost continent, of New Guinea, the
greater part of which is inhabited by a race related by
physical type and language to the Torres Straits Islanders,
and exhibiting approximately the same level of social and
intellectual culture. New Guinea, roughly speaking, appears
to be occupied by two different races, to which the names of
Papuan and Melanesian are now given; and it is to the
Papuan race, not to the Melanesian, that the Torres Straits
Islanders are akin. The Papuans, a tall, dark-skinned,
frizzly-haired race, inhabit apparently the greater part of
New Guinea, including the whole of the western and
central portions of the island. The Melanesians, a smaller,
lighter-coloured, frizzly-haired race, inhabit the long eastern
peninsula, including the southern coast from about Cape
Possession eastward,<a id="footnotetag310" name="footnotetag310"></a><a href="#footnote310"><sup>310</sup></a> and tribes speaking a Melanesian
language are also settled about Finsch Harbour and Huon
Gulf in German New Guinea.<a id="footnotetag311" name="footnotetag311"></a><a href="#footnote311"><sup>311</sup></a> These Melanesians are
most probably immigrants who have settled in New
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page191" id="page191"></a>[pg 191]</span>
Guinea from the north and east, where the great chain
of islands known as Melanesia stretches in an immense
semicircle from New Ireland on the north to New
Caledonia on the south-east. The natives of this chain of
islands or series of archipelagoes are the true Melanesians;
their kinsmen in New Guinea have undergone admixture
with the Papuan aborigines, and accordingly should rather
be called Papuo-Melanesians than Melanesians simply. Their
country appears to be wholly comprised within the limits of
British and German New Guinea; so far as I am aware,
the vast area of Dutch New Guinea is inhabited solely by
tribes of the Papuan race. In respect of material culture
both races stand approximately on the same level: they live
in settled villages, they practise agriculture, they engage in
commerce, and they have a fairly developed barbaric art.
Thus they have made some progress in the direction of
civilisation; certainly they have far outstripped the wandering
savages of Australia, who subsist entirely on the products
of the chase and on the natural fruits of the earth.</p>

<p class="side">Scantiness of our information as to the natives of New
Guinea.</p>

<p>But although the natives of New Guinea have now
been under the rule of European powers, Britain, Germany,
and Holland, for many years, we unfortunately possess little
detailed information as to their mental and social condition.
It is true that the members of the Cambridge Anthropological
Expedition to Torres Straits visited some parts
of the southern coasts of British New Guinea, and several
years later, in 1904, Dr. Seligmann was able to devote
somewhat more time to the investigation of the same region
and has given us the results of his enquiries in a valuable
book. But the time at his disposal did not suffice for a
thorough investigation of this large region; and accordingly
his information, eked out though it is by that of
Protestant and Catholic missionaries, still leaves us in the
dark as to much which we should wish to know. Among the
natives of British New Guinea our information is especially
defective in regard to the Papuans, who occupy the greater
part of the possession, including the whole of the western
region; for Dr. Seligmann's book, which is the most detailed
and systematic work yet published on the ethnology of British
New Guinea, deals almost exclusively with the Melanesian
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page192" id="page192"></a>[pg 192]</span>
portion of the population. Accordingly I shall begin what
I have to say on this subject with the Melanesian or rather
Papuo-Melanesian tribes of south-eastern New Guinea.</p>

<p class="side">The Motu, their beliefs and customs concerning the dead.</p>

<p>Amongst these people the best known are the Motu, a
tribe of fishermen and potters, who live in and about Port
Moresby in the Central District of British New Guinea.
Their language conforms to the Melanesian type. They
are immigrants, but the country from which they came is
unknown.<a id="footnotetag312" name="footnotetag312"></a><a href="#footnote312"><sup>312</sup></a> In their opinion the spirits of the dead dwell in
a happy land where parted friends meet again and never
suffer hunger. They fish, hunt, and plant, and are just like
living men, except that they have no noses. When they first
arrive in the mansions of the blest, they are laid out to dry on
a sort of gridiron over a slow fire in order to purge away the
grossness of the body and make them ethereal and light, as
spirits should be. Yet, oddly enough, though they have no
noses they cannot enter the realms of bliss unless their noses
were pierced in their lifetime. For these savages bore holes
in their noses and insert ornaments, or what they regard as
such, in the holes. The operation is performed on children
about the age of six years; and if children die before it has
been performed on them, the parents will bore a hole in the
nose of the corpse in order that the spirit of the child may
go to the happy land. For if they omitted to do so, the
poor ghost would have to herd with other whole-nosed ghosts
in a bad place called Tageani, where there is little food to
eat and no betelnuts to chew. The spirits of the dead are
very powerful and visit bad people with their displeasure.
Famine and scarcity of fish and game are attributed to the
anger of the spirits. But they hearken to prayer and appear
to their friends in dreams, sometimes condescending to give
them directions for their guidance in time of trouble.<a id="footnotetag313" name="footnotetag313"></a><a href="#footnote313"><sup>313</sup></a></p>

<span class="pagenum"><a name="page193" id="page193"></a>[pg 193]</span>

<p class="side">The Koita or Koitapu.</p>

<p>Side by side with the Motu live the Koita or Koitapu,
who appear to be the aboriginal inhabitants of the country
and to belong to the Papuan stock. Their villages lie
scattered for a distance of about forty miles along the coast,
from a point about seven miles south-east of Port Moresby
to a point on Redscar Bay to the north-west of that settlement.
They live on friendly terms with the Motu and have
intermarried with them for generations. The villages of the
two tribes are usually built near to or even in direct continuity
with each other. But while the Motu are mainly
fishers and potters, the Koita are mainly tillers of the soil,
though they have learned some arts or adopted some customs
from their neighbours. They say to the Motu, "Yours is
the sea, the canoes, the nets; ours the land and the wallaby.
Give us fish for our flesh, and pottery for our yams and
bananas." The Motu look down upon the Koita, but fear
their power of sorcery, and apply to them for help in sickness
and for the weather they happen to require; for they
imagine that the Koita rule the elements and can make rain
or sunshine, wind or calm by their magic. Thus, as in so
many cases, the members of the immigrant race confess their
inability to understand and manage the gods or spirits of
the land, and have recourse in time of need to the magic
of the aboriginal inhabitants. While the Koita belong to
the Papuan stock and speak a Papuan language, most of
the men understand the Motu tongue, which is one of the
Melanesian family. Altogether these two tribes, the Koita
and the Motu, may be regarded as typical representatives
of the mixed race to which the name of Papuo-Melanesian
is now given.<a id="footnotetag314" name="footnotetag314"></a><a href="#footnote314"><sup>314</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Beliefs of the Koita concerning the human soul.</p>

<p>The Koita believe that the human spirit or ghost, which
they call <i>sua</i>, leaves the body at death and goes away to live
with other ghosts on a mountain called Idu. But they think
that the spirit can quit the body and return to it during life;
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page194" id="page194"></a>[pg 194]</span>
it goes away, for example, in dreams, and if a sleeper should
unfortunately waken before his soul has had time to return,
he will probably fall sick. Sneezing is a sign that the soul
has returned to the body, and if a man does not sneeze for
many weeks together, his friends look on it as a grave
symptom; his soul, they imagine, must be a very long way
off.<a id="footnotetag315" name="footnotetag315"></a><a href="#footnote315"><sup>315</sup></a> Moreover, a man's soul may be enticed from his body
and detained by a demon or <i>tabu</i>, as the Koita call it. Thus,
when a man who has been out in the forest returns home
and shakes with fever, it is assumed that he has fallen down
and been robbed of his soul by a demon. In order to recover
that priceless possession, the sufferer and his friends repair
to the exact spot in the forest where the supposed robbery
was perpetrated. They take with them a long bamboo with
some valuable ornaments tied to it, and two men support it
horizontally over a pot which is filled with grass. A light
is put to the grass, and as it crackles and blazes a number of
men standing round the pot strike it with stones till it
breaks, whereat they all groan. Then the company returns
to the village, and the sick man lies down in his house with
the bamboo and its ornaments hung over him. This is
supposed to be all that is needed to effect a perfect cure;
for the demon has kindly accepted the soul of the ornaments
and released the soul of the sufferer, who ought to recover
accordingly.<a id="footnotetag316" name="footnotetag316"></a><a href="#footnote316"><sup>316</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Beliefs of the Koita concerning the state of the dead.
Alleged communications with the dead by means of mediums.</p>

<p>However, at death the soul goes away for good and all;
at least there appears to be no idea that it will ever return
to life in the form of an infant, as the souls of the Central
Australian aborigines are supposed to do. All Koita ghosts
live together on Mount Idu, and their life is very like the
one they led here on earth. There is no distinction between
the good and the bad, the righteous and the wicked, the
strong and the weak, the young and the old; they all fare
alike in the spirit-land, with one exception. Like the Motu,
the Koita are in the habit of boring holes in their noses and
inserting ornaments in the holes; and they think that if any
person were so unfortunate as to be buried with his nose
whole and entire, his ghost would have to go about in the
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page195" id="page195"></a>[pg 195]</span>
other world with a creature like a slow-worm depending
from his nostrils on either side. Hence, when anybody dies
before the operation of nose-boring has been performed on
him or her, the friends take care to bore a hole in the nose of
the corpse in order that the ghost may not appear disfigured
among his fellows in dead man's land. There the ghosts
dwell in houses, cultivate gardens, marry wives, and amuse
themselves just as they did here on earth. They live a
long time, but not for ever; for they grow weaker and
weaker and at last die the second death, never to revive
again, not even as ghosts. The exact length of time they
live in the spirit-land has not been accurately ascertained;
but there seems to be a notion that they survive
only so long as their names and their memories survive
among the living. When these are utterly forgotten, the
poor ghosts cease to exist. If that is so, it is obvious that
the dead depend for their continued existence upon the
recollection of the living; their names are in a sense their
souls, so that oblivion of the name involves extinction of
the soul.<a id="footnotetag317" name="footnotetag317"></a><a href="#footnote317"><sup>317</sup></a> But though the spirits of the dead go away to
live for a time on Mount Idu, they often return to their
native villages and haunt the place of their death. On these
visits they shew little benevolence or lovingkindness to their
descendants. They punish any neglect in the performance
of the funeral rites and any infringement of tribal customs,
and the punishment takes the form of sickness or of bad
luck in hunting or fishing. This dread of the ghost commonly
leads the Koita to desert a house after a death and
to let it fall into decay; but sometimes the widow, or in rare
cases a brother or sister, will continue to inhabit the house
of the deceased. Children who play near dwellings which
have been deserted on account of death may fall sick; and
if people who are not members of the family partake of
food which has been hung up in such houses, they also may
sicken. It is in dreams that the ghosts usually appear to
the survivors; but occasionally they may be seen or at least
felt by people in the waking state. Some years ago four
Motuan girls persuaded many natives of Port Moresby that
they could evoke the spirit of a youth named Tamasi, who
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page196" id="page196"></a>[pg 196]</span>
had died three years before. The mother and other sorrowing
relatives of the deceased paid a high price to the principal
medium, a young woman named Mea, for an interview with
the ghost. The meeting took place in a house by night.
The relations and friends squatted on the ground in expectation;
and sure enough the ghost presented himself in the
darkness and went round shaking hands most affably with
the assembled company. However, a sceptic who happened
to assist at this spiritual sitting, had the temerity to hold on
tight to the proffered hand of the ghost, while another infidel
assisted him to obtain a sight as well as a touch of the
vanished hand by striking a light. It then turned out that
the supposed apparition was no spirit but the medium
Mea herself. She was brought before a magistrate, who
sentenced her to a short term of imprisonment and relieved
her of the property which she had amassed by the exercise
of her spiritual talents.<a id="footnotetag318" name="footnotetag318"></a><a href="#footnote318"><sup>318</sup></a> It is hardly for us, or at least
for some of us, to cast stones at the efforts of ignorant
savages to communicate by means of such intermediaries
with their departed friends. Similar attempts have been
made in our own country within our lifetime, and I believe
that they are still being made, in perfect good faith, by
educated ladies and gentlemen, who like their black brethren
and sisters in the faith are sometimes made the dupes of
designing knaves. If New Guinea has its Meas, Europe has
its Eusapias. Human credulity and vulgar imposture are
much the same all the world over.</p>

<p class="side">Fear of the dead.</p>

<p>The fear of the dead is strongly marked in some funeral
customs which are observed by the Roro-speaking tribes
who occupy a territory at the mouth of the St. Joseph river in
British New Guinea.<a id="footnotetag319" name="footnotetag319"></a><a href="#footnote319"><sup>319</sup></a> When a death takes place, the female
relations of the deceased lacerate their skulls, faces, breasts,
bellies, arms, and legs with sharp shells, till they stream
with blood and fall down exhausted. Moreover, a fire is
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page197" id="page197"></a>[pg 197]</span>
kindled on the grave and kept up almost continually for
months for the purpose, we are told, of warming the ghost.<a id="footnotetag320" name="footnotetag320"></a><a href="#footnote320"><sup>320</sup></a>
These attentions might be interpreted as marks of affection
rather than of fear; but in other customs of these people
the dread of the ghost is unmistakable. For when the
corpse has been placed in the grave a near kinsman strokes
it twice with a branch from head to foot in order to drive
away the dead man's spirit; and in Yule Island, when the
ghost has thus been brushed away from the body, he is pursued
by two men brandishing sticks and torches from the village
to the edge of the forest, where with a last curse they hurl
the sticks and torches after him.<a id="footnotetag321" name="footnotetag321"></a><a href="#footnote321"><sup>321</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Ghost of dead wife feared by widower.</p>

<p>Among these people the visits of ghosts, though frequent,
are far from welcome, for all ghosts are supposed to be
mischievous and to take no delight but in injuring the living.
Hence, for example, a widower in mourning goes about
everywhere armed with an axe to defend himself against the
spirit of his dead wife, who might play him many an ill turn
if she caught him defenceless and off his guard. And he is
subject to many curious restrictions and has to lead the life
of an outcast from society, apparently because people fear
to come into contact with a man whose steps are dogged
by so dangerous a spirit.<a id="footnotetag322" name="footnotetag322"></a><a href="#footnote322"><sup>322</sup></a> This account of the terrors of
ghosts we owe to a Catholic missionary. But according to
the information collected by Dr. Seligmann among these
people the dread inspired by the souls of the dead is not
so absolute. He tells us, indeed, that ghosts are thought to
make people ill by stealing their souls; that the natives
fear to go alone outside the village in the dark lest they
should encounter a spectre; and that if too many quarrels
occur among the women, the spirits of the dead may
manifest their displeasure by visiting hunters and fishers
with bad luck, so that it may be necessary to conjure their
souls out of the village. On the other hand, it is said
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page198" id="page198"></a>[pg 198]</span>
that if the ghosts abandoned a village altogether, the luck of
the villagers would be gone, and if such a thing is supposed
to have happened, measures are taken to bring back the
spirits of the departed to the old home.<a id="footnotetag323" name="footnotetag323"></a><a href="#footnote323"><sup>323</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Beliefs of the Mafulu concerning the dead.</p>

<p>Inland from the Roro-speaking tribes, among the mountains
at the head of the St. Joseph River, there is a tribe
known to their neighbours as the Mafulu, though they call
themselves Mambule. They speak a Papuan language, but
their physical characteristics are believed to indicate a strain
of Negrito blood.<a id="footnotetag324" name="footnotetag324"></a><a href="#footnote324"><sup>324</sup></a> The Mafulu hold that at death the
human spirit leaves the body and becomes a malevolent
ghost. Accordingly they drive it away with shouts. It is
supposed to go away to the tops of the mountains there to
become, according to its age, either a shimmering light on
the ground or a large sort of fungus, which is found only
on the mountains. Hence natives who come across such a
shimmering light or such a fungus are careful not to tread
on it; much less would they eat the fungus. However, in
spite of their transformation into these things, the ghosts
come down from the mountains and prowl about the villages
and gardens seeking what they may devour, and as their
intentions are always evil their visits are dreaded by the
people, who fill up the crevices and openings, except the
doors, of their houses at night in order to prevent the
incursions of these unquiet spirits. When a mission station
was founded in their country, the Mafulu were amazed that
the missionaries should sleep alone in rooms with open doors
and windows, through which the ghosts might enter.<a id="footnotetag325" name="footnotetag325"></a><a href="#footnote325"><sup>325</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Burial customs of the Mafulu.</p>

<p>Common people among the Mafulu are buried in shallow
graves in the village, and pigs are killed at the funeral for
the purpose of appeasing the ghost. Mourners wear necklaces
of string and smear their faces, sometimes also their
bodies, with black, which they renew from time to time.
Instead of wearing a necklace, a widow, widower, or other
near relative may abstain during the period of mourning
from eating a favourite food of the deceased. A woman
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page199" id="page199"></a>[pg 199]</span>
who has lost a child, especially a first-born or dearly loved
child, will often amputate the first joint of one of her fingers
with an adze; and she may repeat the amputation if she
suffers another bereavement. A woman has been seen with
three of her fingers mutilated in this fashion.<a id="footnotetag326" name="footnotetag326"></a><a href="#footnote326"><sup>326</sup></a> The corpses
of chiefs, their wives, and other members of their families
are not buried in graves but laid in rude coffins, which are
then deposited either on rough platforms in the village or in
the fork of a species of fig-tree. This sort of tree, called by
the natives <i>gabi</i>, is specially used for such burials; one of
them has been seen supporting no less than six coffins, one
above the other. The Mafulu never cut down these trees,
and in seeking a new site for a village they will often choose
a place where one of them is growing. So long as the
corpse of a chief is rotting and stinking on the platform or
the tree, the village is deserted by the inhabitants; only two
men, relatives of the deceased, remain behind exposed to the
stench of the decaying body and the blood of the pigs which
were slaughtered at the funeral feast. When decomposition
is complete, the people return to the village. Should the
coffin fall to the ground through the decay of the platform
or the tree on which it rests, the people throw away all the
bones except the skull and the larger bones of the arms and
legs; these they bury in a shallow grave under the platform,
or put in a box on a burial tree, or hang up in the chief's
house.<a id="footnotetag327" name="footnotetag327"></a><a href="#footnote327"><sup>327</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Use made of the skulls and bones at a great festival.</p>

<p>The skulls and leg and arm bones of chiefs, their wives,
and other members of their families, which have thus been
preserved, play a prominent part in the great feasts which
the inhabitants of a Mafulu village celebrate at intervals of
perhaps fifteen or twenty years. Great preparations are made
for such a celebration. A series of tall posts, one for each
household, is erected in the open space which intervenes
between the two rows of the village houses. Yams and
taro are fastened to the upper parts of the posts; and
below them are hung in circles the skulls and arm and
leg bones of dead chiefs, their wives, and kinsfolk, which
have been preserved in the manner described. Any skulls
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page200" id="page200"></a>[pg 200]</span>
and bones that remain over when all the posts have been
thus decorated are placed on a platform, which has either
served for the ordinary exposure of a chief's corpse or has
been specially erected for the purpose of the festival. At a
given moment of the ceremony the chief of the clan cuts
down the props which support the platform, so that the
skulls and bones roll on the ground. These are picked
up and afterwards distributed, along with some of the skulls
and bones from the posts, by the chief of the clan to the
more important of the invited guests, who wear them as
ornaments on their arms in a great dance. None but
certain of the male guests take part in the dance; the
villagers themselves merely look on. All the dancers are
arrayed in full dancing costume, including heavy head-dresses
of feathers, and they carry drums and spears, sometimes
also clubs or adzes. The dance lasts the whole night.
When it is over, the skulls and bones are hung up again on
the tall posts. Afterwards the fruits and vegetables which
have been collected in large quantities are divided among
the guests. On a subsequent morning a large number of
pigs are killed, and certain of the hosts take some of the
human bones from the posts and dip them in the blood
which flows from the mouths of the slaughtered pigs.
With these blood-stained bones they next touch the skulls
and all the other bones on the posts, which include all the
skulls and arm and leg bones of all the chiefs and members
of their families and other prominent persons who have been
buried in the village or in any other village of the community
since the last great feast was held. These relics of
mortality may afterwards be kept in the chief's house, or
hung on a tree, or simply thrown away in the forest; but in
no case are they ever again used for purposes of ceremony.
The slaughtered pigs are cut up and the portions distributed
among the guests, who carry them away for consumption in
their own villages.<a id="footnotetag328" name="footnotetag328"></a><a href="#footnote328"><sup>328</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Trace of ancestor worship among the Mafulu.</p>

<p>This preservation of the skulls and bones of chiefs and
other notables for years, and the dipping of them in the
blood of pigs at a great festival, must apparently be designed
to propitiate or influence in some way the ghosts of the
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page201" id="page201"></a>[pg 201]</span>
persons to whom the skulls and bones belonged in their
lifetime. But Mr. R. W. Williamson, to whom we are
indebted for the description of this interesting ceremony,
was not able to detect any other clear indications of
ancestor worship among the people.<a id="footnotetag329" name="footnotetag329"></a><a href="#footnote329"><sup>329</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Worship of the dead among the natives of the Aroma district.</p>

<p>However, a real worship of the dead, or something
approaching to it, is reported to exist among some of the
natives of the Aroma district in British New Guinea. Each
family is said to have a sacred place, whither they carry
offerings for the spirits of dead ancestors, whom they terribly
fear. Sickness in the family, death, famine, scarcity of fish,
and so forth, are all set down to the anger of these dreadful
beings, who must accordingly be propitiated. On certain
occasions the help of the spirits is especially invoked and
their favour wooed by means of offerings. Thus, when a
house is being built and the central post has been erected,
sacrifices of wallaby, fish, and bananas are presented to the
souls of the dead, and a prayer is put up that they will be
pleased to keep the house always full of food and to prevent
it from falling down in stormy weather. Again, when the
natives begin to plant their gardens, they first take a bunch
of bananas and sugar-cane and standing in the middle of the
garden call over the names of dead members of the family,
adding, "There is your food, your bananas and sugar-cane;
let our food grow well, and let it be plentiful. If it does not
grow well and plentifully, you all will be full of shame, and
so shall we." Again, before the people set out on a trading
expedition, they present food to the spirits at the central
post of the house and pray them to go before the traders and
prepare the people, so that the trade may be good. Once
more, when there is sickness in the family, a pig is killed
and its carcase carried to the sacred place, where the spirits
are asked to accept it. Sins, also, are confessed, such as
that people have gathered bananas or coco-nuts without
offering any of them to their dead ancestors. In presenting
the pig they say, "There is a pig; accept it, and remove
the sickness." But if prayers and sacrifices are vain, and
the patient dies, then, while the relatives all stand round the
open grave, the chief's sister or cousin calls out in a loud
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page202" id="page202"></a>[pg 202]</span>
voice: "You have been angry with us for the bananas or
the coco-nuts which we have gathered, and in your anger
you have taken away this child. Now let it suffice, and
bury your anger." So saying they lower the body into
the grave and shovel in the earth on the top of it. The
spirits of the departed, on quitting their bodies, paddle in
canoes across the lagoon and go away to the mountains,
where they live in perfect bliss, with no work to do and no
trouble to vex them, chewing betel, dancing all night and
resting all day.<a id="footnotetag330" name="footnotetag330"></a><a href="#footnote330"><sup>330</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">The Hood Peninsula. The town of Kalo.</p>

<p>Between the Aroma District in the south-east and Port
Moresby on the north-west is situated the Hood Peninsula
in the Central District of British New Guinea. It is
inhabited by the Bulaa, Babaka, Kamali, and Kalo tribes,
which all speak dialects of one language.<a id="footnotetag331" name="footnotetag331"></a><a href="#footnote331"><sup>331</sup></a> The village or
town of Kalo, built at the base of the peninsula, close to
the mouth of the Vanigela or Kemp Welch River, is said
to be the wealthiest village in British New Guinea. It
includes some magnificent native houses, all built over the
water on piles, some of which are thirty feet high. The
sight of these great houses perched on such lofty and
massive props is very impressive. In front of each house
is a series of large platforms like gigantic steps. Some
of the posts and under-surfaces of the houses are carved
with figures of crocodiles and so forth. The labour of
cutting the huge planks for the flooring of the houses and
the platforms must be immense, and must have been still
greater in the old days, when the natives had only stone
tools to work with. Many of the planks are cut out of the
slab-like buttresses of tall forest trees which grow inland. So
hard is the wood that the boards are handed down as heirlooms
from father to son, and the piles on which the houses
are built last for generations. The inhabitants of Kalo
possess gardens, where the rich alluvial soil produces a
superabundance of coco-nuts, bananas, yams, sweet potatoes,
and taro. Areca palms also flourish and produce the betel
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page203" id="page203"></a>[pg 203]</span>
nuts, which are in great demand for chewing with quick-lime
and so constitute a source of wealth. Commanding the
mouth of the Vanigela River, the people of Kalo absorb
the trade with the interior; and their material prosperity is
said to have rendered them conceited and troublesome.<a id="footnotetag332" name="footnotetag332"></a><a href="#footnote332"><sup>332</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Beliefs and customs concerning the dead among the natives of
the Hood Peninsula. Seclusion of the widow or widower.</p>

<p>The tribes inhabiting the Hood Peninsula are reported
to have no belief in any good spirit but an unlimited
faith in bad spirits, amongst whom they include the souls
of their dead ancestors. At death the ghosts join their forefathers
in a subterranean region, where they have splendid
gardens, houses, and so forth. Yet not content with their
life in the underworld, they are always on the watch to
deal out sickness and death to their surviving friends and
relations, who may have the misfortune to incur their
displeasure. So the natives are most careful to do nothing
that might offend these touchy and dangerous spirits. Like
many other savages, they do not believe that anybody dies
a natural death; they think that all the deaths which
we should call natural are brought about either by an
ancestral ghost (<i>palagu</i>) or by a sorcerer or witch (<i>wara</i>).
Even when a man dies of snake-bite, they detect in the discoloration
of the body the wounds inflicted upon him by
the fell art of the magician.<a id="footnotetag333" name="footnotetag333"></a><a href="#footnote333"><sup>333</sup></a> On the approach of death the
house of the sick man is filled by anxious relatives and
friends, who sit around watching for the end. When it
comes, there is a tremendous outburst of grief. The men
beat their faces with their clenched fists; the women
tear their cheeks with their nails till the blood streams
down. They usually bury their dead in graves, which
among the inland tribes are commonly dug near the houses
of the deceased. The maritime tribes, who live in houses
built on piles over the water, sometimes inter the corpse
in the forest. But at other times they place it in a
canoe, which they anchor off the village. Then, when the
body has dried up, they lay it on a platform in a tree.
Finally, they collect and clean the bones, tie them in a
bundle, and place them on the roof of the house. When the
corpse is buried, a temporary hut is erected over the grave,
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page204" id="page204"></a>[pg 204]</span>
and in it the widow or widower lives in seclusion for two or
three months. During her seclusion the widow employs
herself in fashioning her widow's weeds, which consist of a
long grass petticoat reaching to the ankles. She wears a
large head-dress made of shells; her head is shaved, and her
body blackened. Further, she wears round her neck the
waistband of her deceased husband with his lower jaw-bone
attached to it. The costume of a widower is somewhat
similar, though he does not wear a long grass petticoat.
Instead of it he has a graceful fringe, which hangs from his
waist half way to the knees. On his head he wears an
elaborate head-dress made of shells, and on his arms he has
armlets of the same material. His hair is cut off and his
whole skin blackened. Round his neck is a string, from
which depends his dead wife's petticoat. It is sewn up into
small bulk and hangs under his right arm. While the
widow or widower is living in seclusion on the grave, he or
she is supplied with food by relations. At sundown on the
day of the burial, a curious ceremony is performed. An old
woman or man, supposed to be gifted with second-sight, is
sent for. Seating herself at the foot of the grave she peers
into the deepening shadows under the coco-nut palms. At
first she remains perfectly still, while the relations of the
deceased watch her with painful anxiety. Soon her look
becomes more piercing, and lowering her head, while she still
gazes into the depth of the forest, she says in low and
solemn tones, "I see coming hither So-and-So's grandfather"
(mentioning the name of the dead person). "He says he is
glad to welcome his grandson to his abode. I see now his
father and his own little son also, who died in infancy."
Gradually, she grows more and more excited, waving her
arms and swaying her body from side to side. "Now they
come," she cries, "I can see all our forefathers in a fast-gathering
crowd. They are coming closer and yet closer.
Make room, make room for the spirits of our departed
ancestors." By this time she has worked herself up into a
frenzy. She throws herself on the ground, beating her head
with her clenched fists. Foam flies from her lips, her eyes
become fixed, and she rolls over insensible. But the fit
lasts only a short time. She soon comes to herself;
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page205" id="page205"></a>[pg 205]</span>
the vision is past, and the visionary is restored to common
life.<a id="footnotetag334" name="footnotetag334"></a><a href="#footnote334"><sup>334</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Application of the juices of the dead to the persons of the
living.</p>

<p>Some of the inland tribes of this district have a peculiar
way of disposing of their dead.  A double platform about
ten feet high is erected near the village.  On the upper
platform the corpse is placed, and immediately below it the
widow or widower sleeps on the lower platform, allowing
juices of the decaying body to stream down on her or
him.  This application of the decomposing juices of a
corpse to the persons of the living is not uncommon among
savages; it appears to be a form of communion with the
dead, the survivors thus in a manner identifying themselves
with their departed kinsfolk by absorbing a portion of
their bodily substance.  Among the tribes in question a
widower marks his affection for his dead wife by never
washing himself during the period of mourning; he
would not rid himself of those products of decomposition
which link him, however sadly, with her whom he has lost.
Every day, too, reeking with these relics of mortality, he
solemnly stalks through the village.<a id="footnotetag335" name="footnotetag335"></a><a href="#footnote335"><sup>335</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Precautions taken by man-slayers against the ghosts of their
victims.</p>

<p>But there is a distinction between ghosts.  If all of
them are feared, some are more dreadful than others, and
amongst the latter may naturally be reckoned the ghosts
of slain enemies. Accordingly the slayer has to observe
special precautions to guard against the angry and vengeful
spirit of his victim. Amongst these people, we are told,
a man who has taken life is held to be impure until he
has undergone certain ceremonies.  As soon as possible
after the deed is done, he cleanses himself and his weapon.
Then he repairs to his village and seats himself on the
logs of sacrificial staging.  No one approaches him or takes
any notice whatever of him.  Meantime a house is made
ready, in which he must live by himself for several days,
waited on only by two or three small boys.  He may eat
nothing but toasted bananas, and only the central parts of
them; the ends are thrown away.  On the third day a
small feast is prepared for him by his friends, who also
provide him with some new waistbands. Next day, arrayed
in all his finery and wearing the badges which mark him as
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page206" id="page206"></a>[pg 206]</span>
a homicide, he sallies forth fully armed and parades the
village. Next day a hunt takes place, and from the game
captured a kangaroo is selected. It is cut open, and with
its spleen and liver the back of the homicide is rubbed.
Then he walks solemnly down to the nearest water and
standing straddle-legs in it washes himself. All young
untried warriors then swim between his legs, which is supposed
to impart his courage and strength to them. Next
day at early dawn he dashes out of his house fully armed
and calls aloud the name of his victim. Having satisfied
himself that he has thoroughly scared the ghost of the
dead man, he returns to his house. Further, floors are
beaten and fires kindled for the sake of driving away the
ghost, lest he should still be lingering in the neighbourhood.
A day later the purification of the homicide is complete
and he is free to enter his wife's house, which he might
not do before.<a id="footnotetag336" name="footnotetag336"></a><a href="#footnote336"><sup>336</sup></a> This account of the purification of a
homicide suggests that the purificatory rites, which have
been observed in similar cases by many peoples, including
the ancient Greeks, are primarily intended to free the slayer
from the dangerous ghost of his victim, which haunts him
and seeks to take his life. Such rites in fact appear designed,
not to restore the homicide to a state of moral innocence,
but merely to guard him against a physical danger; they
are protective, not reformatory, in character; they are
exorcisms, not purifications in the sense which we attach
to the word. This interpretation of the ceremonies observed
by manslayers among many peoples might be supported by
a large array of evidence; but to go into the matter fully
would lead me into a long digression. I have collected
some of the evidence elsewhere.<a id="footnotetag337" name="footnotetag337"></a><a href="#footnote337"><sup>337</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Beliefs and customs concerning the dead among the Massim of
south-eastern New Guinea. Hiyoyoa, the land of the dead. Mourners bathe
and shave their heads. Food deposited in the grave. Dietary restrictions
imposed on mourners.</p>

<p>We now pass to that branch of the Papuo-Melanesian
race which occupies the extreme south-eastern part of
British New Guinea, and to which Dr. Seligmann gives
the name of Massim. These people have been observed
more especially at three places, namely Bartle Bay,
Wagawaga, and Tubetube, a small island of the Engineer
group lying off the south-eastern extremity of New Guinea.
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page207" id="page207"></a>[pg 207]</span>
Among them the old custom was to bury the dead
on the outskirts of the hamlet and sometimes within
a few yards of the houses, and apparently the remains
were afterwards as a rule left undisturbed; there was no
general practice of exhuming the bones and depositing
them elsewhere.<a id="footnotetag338" name="footnotetag338"></a><a href="#footnote338"><sup>338</sup></a> At Wagawaga the name for the spirit
or soul of a dead person is <i>arugo</i>, which also signifies a
man's shadow or reflection in a glass or in water; and
though animals and trees are not supposed to have spirits,
their reflections bear the same name <i>arugo</i>.<a id="footnotetag339" name="footnotetag339"></a><a href="#footnote339"><sup>339</sup></a> The souls of
the dead are believed to depart to the land of Hiyoyoa,
which is under the sea, near Maivara, at the head of Milne
Bay. The land of the dead, as usual, resembles in all
respects the land of the living, except that it is day there
when it is night at Wagawaga, and the dead speak of
the upper world in the language of Milne Bay instead of
in that of Wagawaga. A certain being called Tumudurere
receives the ghosts on their arrival and directs them where
to make their gardens. The souls of living men and
women can journey to the land of the dead and return
to earth; indeed this happens not unfrequently. There
is a man at Wagawaga who has often gone thither and
come back; whenever he wishes to make the journey, he
has nothing to do but to smear himself with a magical
stuff and to fall asleep, after which he soon wakes up in
Hiyoyoa. At first the ghosts whom he met in the other
world did not invite him to partake of their food, because
they knew that if he did so he could not return to the
land of the living; but apparently practice has rendered
him immune to the usually fatal effects of the food of
the dead.<a id="footnotetag340" name="footnotetag340"></a><a href="#footnote340"><sup>340</sup></a> Though Hiyoyoa, at the head of Milne Bay,
lies to the west of Wagawaga, the dead are buried in a
squatting posture with their faces turned to the east, in
order that their souls may depart to the other world.<a id="footnotetag341" name="footnotetag341"></a><a href="#footnote341"><sup>341</sup></a>
Immediately after the funeral the relations who have taken
part in the burial go down to the sea and bathe, and so
do the widow and children of the deceased because they
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page208" id="page208"></a>[pg 208]</span>
supported the dying husband and father in his extremity.
After bathing in the sea the widow and children shave
their heads.<a id="footnotetag342" name="footnotetag342"></a><a href="#footnote342"><sup>342</sup></a> Both the bathing and the shaving are
doubtless forms of ceremonial purification; in other words,
they are designed to rid the survivors of the taint of death,
or perhaps more definitely to remove the ghost from their
persons, to which he may be supposed to cling like a burr.
At Bartle Bay the dead are buried on their sides with
their heads pointing in the direction from which the
totem clan of the deceased is said to have come originally;
and various kinds of food, of which the dead man
had partaken in his last illness, are deposited, along with
some paltry personal ornaments, in the grave. Apparently
the food is intended to serve as provision for the ghost
on his journey to the other world. Curiously enough, the
widow is forbidden to eat of the same kinds of food of
which her husband ate during his last illness, and the
prohibition is strictly observed until after the last of the
funeral feasts.<a id="footnotetag343" name="footnotetag343"></a><a href="#footnote343"><sup>343</sup></a> The motive of the prohibition is not
obvious; perhaps it may be a fear of attracting the ghost
back to earth through the savoury food which he loved
in the body. At Wagawaga, after the relatives who took
part in the burial have bathed in the sea, they cut down
several of the coco-nut trees which belonged to the deceased,
leaving both nuts and trees to rot on the ground. During
the first two or three weeks after the funeral these same
relatives may not eat boiled food, but only roast; they
may not drink water, but only the milk of young coco-nuts
made hot, and although they may eat yams they must
abstain from bananas and sugar-cane.<a id="footnotetag344" name="footnotetag344"></a><a href="#footnote344"><sup>344</sup></a> A man may not
eat coco-nuts grown in his dead father's hamlet, nor pigs
and areca-nuts from it during the whole remainder of his
life.<a id="footnotetag345" name="footnotetag345"></a><a href="#footnote345"><sup>345</sup></a> The reasons for these dietary restrictions are not
mentioned, but no doubt the abstinences are based on a
fear of the ghost, or at all events on a dread of the contagion
of death, to which all who had a share in the burial are
especially exposed.</p>

<span class="pagenum"><a name="page209" id="page209"></a>[pg 209]</span>

<p class="side">Funeral customs at Tubetube. The fire on the grave. The happy
land.</p>

<p>At Tubetube, in like manner, immediately after a
funeral a brother of the deceased cuts down two or
three of the dead man's coco-nut trees. There, also, the
children of the deceased may not eat any coco-nuts from
their father's trees nor even from any trees grown in his
hamlet; nay, they may not partake of any garden produce
grown in the vicinity of the hamlet; and similarly they
must abstain from the pork of all pigs fattened in their
dead father's village. But these prohibitions do not apply
to the brothers, sisters, and other relatives of the departed.
The relations who have assisted at the burial remain at
the grave for five or six days, being fed by the brothers
or other near kinsfolk of the deceased. They may not
quit the spot even at night, and if it rains they huddle
into a shelter built over the grave. During their vigil at
the tomb they may not drink water, but are allowed a
little heated coco-nut milk; they are supposed to eat only
a little yam and other vegetable food.<a id="footnotetag346" name="footnotetag346"></a><a href="#footnote346"><sup>346</sup></a> On the day when
the body is buried a fire is kindled at the grave and kept
burning night and day until the feast of the dead has been
held. "The reason for having the fire is that the spirit
may be able to get warm when it rises from the grave.
The natives regard the spirit as being very cold, even as the
body is when the life has departed from it, and without this
external warmth provided by the fire it would be unable to
undertake the journey to its final home. The feast for the
dead is celebrated when the flesh has decayed, and in some
places the skull is taken from the grave, washed and placed
in the house, being buried again when the feast is over. At
Tubetube this custom of taking the skull from the grave is
not regularly followed, in some instances it is, but the feast
is always held, and on the night of the day on which the
feast takes place, the fire, which has been in some cases kept
burning for over a month, is allowed to burn out, as the
spirit, being now safe and happy in the spirit-land, has no
further need of it."<a id="footnotetag347" name="footnotetag347"></a><a href="#footnote347"><sup>347</sup></a> "In this spirit-land eternal youth
prevails, there are no old men nor old women, but all
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page210" id="page210"></a>[pg 210]</span>
are in the full vigour of the prime of life, or are attaining
thereto, and having reached that stage never grow
older. Old men and old women, who die as such on
Tubetube, renew their youth in this happy place, where
there are no more sickness, no evil spirits, and no death.
Marriage, and giving in marriage, continue; if a man dies,
his widow, though she may have married again, is at her
death re-united to her first husband in the spirit-land, and
the second husband when he arrives has to take one of the
women already there who may be without a mate, unless he
marries again before his death, in which case he would have
to wait until his wife joins him. Children are born, and on
arriving at maturity do not grow older. Houses are built,
canoes are made but they are never launched, and gardens
are planted and yield abundantly. The spirits of their
animals, dogs, pigs, etc., which have died on Tubetube,
precede and follow them to the spirit-land. Fighting and
stealing are unknown, and all are united in a common
brotherhood."<a id="footnotetag348" name="footnotetag348"></a><a href="#footnote348"><sup>348</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">The names of the dead not mentioned.</p>

<p>In the south-eastern part of New Guinea the fear of
the dead is further manifested by the common custom of
avoiding the mention of their names. If their names were
those of common objects, the words are dropped from the
language of the district so long as the memory of the
departed persists, and new names are substituted for them.
For example, when a man named Binama, which means
the hornbill, died at Wagawaga, the name of the bird
was changed to <i>ambadina</i>, which means "the plasterer."<a id="footnotetag349" name="footnotetag349"></a><a href="#footnote349"><sup>349</sup></a>
In this way many words are either permanently lost or
revived with modified or new meanings. Hence the fear
of the dead is here, as in many other places, a fertile source
of change in language. Another indication of the terror
inspired by ghosts is the custom of abandoning or destroying
the house in which a death has taken place; and this
custom used to be observed in certain cases at Tubetube
and Wagawaga.<a id="footnotetag350" name="footnotetag350"></a><a href="#footnote350"><sup>350</sup></a></p>

<span class="pagenum"><a name="page211" id="page211"></a>[pg 211]</span>

<p class="side">Beliefs and customs concerning the dead in the island of
Kiwai.</p>

<p>Thus far I have dealt mainly with the beliefs and
practices of the Papuo-Melanesians in the eastern part of
British New Guinea. With regard to the pure Papuan
population in the western part of the possession our information
is much scantier. However, we learn that in
Kiwai, a large island at the mouth of the Fly River, the
dead are buried in the villages and the ghosts are supposed
to live in the ground near their decaying bodies, but to
emerge from time to time into the upper air and look about
them, only, however, to return to their abode beneath the
sod. Nothing is buried with the corpse; but a small
platform is made over the grave, or sticks are planted in
the ground along its sides, and on these are placed sago,
yams, bananas, coco-nuts, and cooked crabs and fish, all for
the spirit of the dead to eat. A fire is also kindled beside
the grave and kept up by the friends for nine days in order
that the poor ghost may not shiver with cold at night.
These practices prove not merely a belief in the survival
of the soul after death but a desire to make it comfortable.
Further, when the deceased is a man, his bow and arrows
are stuck at the head of the grave; when the deceased is
a woman, her petticoat is hung upon a stick. No doubt
the weapons and the garment are intended for the use of
the ghost, when he or she revisits the upper air. On the
ninth day after the burial a feast is prepared, the drum is
beaten, the conch shell blown, and the chief mourner
declares that no more fires need be lighted and no more
food placed on the grave.<a id="footnotetag351" name="footnotetag351"></a><a href="#footnote351"><sup>351</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Adiri, the land of the dead, and Sido, the first man who went
thither. The fear of ghosts.</p>

<p>According to the natives of Kiwai the land of the dead
is called Adiri or Woibu. The first man to go thither and
to open up a road for others to follow him, was Sido, a
popular hero about whom the people tell many tales. But
whereas in his lifetime Sido was an admired and beneficent
being, in his ghostly character he became a mischievous elf
who played pranks on such as he fell in with. His adventures
after death furnish the theme of many stories.
However, it is much to his credit that, finding the land of
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page212" id="page212"></a>[pg 212]</span>
the dead a barren region without vegetation of any sort, he,
by an act of generation, converted it into a garden, where
bananas, yams, taro, coco-nuts and other fruits and vegetables
grew and ripened in a single night. Having thus
fertilised the lower region, he announced to Adiri, the lord
of the subterranean realm, that he was the precursor of many
more men and women who would descend thereafter into
the spirit world. His prediction has been amply fulfilled;
for ever since then everybody has gone by the same road to
the same place.<a id="footnotetag352" name="footnotetag352"></a><a href="#footnote352"><sup>352</sup></a> However, when a person dies, his or her
spirit may linger for a few days in the neighbourhood of its
old home before setting out for the far country. During
that time the spirit may occasionally be seen by ordinary
people, and accordingly the natives are careful not to go
out in the dark for fear of coming bolt on the ghost; and
they sometimes adopt other precautions against the prowling
spectre, who might otherwise haunt them and carry
them off with him to deadland. Some classes of ghosts are
particularly dreaded on account of their malignity; such,
for example, are the spirits of women who have died in
childbed, and of people who have hanged themselves or been
devoured by crocodiles. Such ghosts loiter for a long time
about the places where they died, and they are very
dangerous, because they are for ever luring other people
to die the same death which they died themselves. Yet
another troop of evil ghosts are the souls of those who were
beheaded in battle; for they kill and devour people, and at
night you may see the blood shining like fire as it gushes
from the gaping gashes in their throats.<a id="footnotetag353" name="footnotetag353"></a><a href="#footnote353"><sup>353</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">The path of the ghosts to Adiri. Adiri, the land of the
dead.</p>

<p>The road to Adiri or deadland is fairly well known, and
the people can point to many landmarks on it. For example,
in the island of Paho there is a tree called <i>dani</i>,
under which the departing spirits sit down and weep.
When they have cried their fill and rubbed their poor tear-bedraggled
faces with mud, they make little pellets of clay
and throw them at the tree, and anybody can see for
himself the pellets sticking to the branches. It is true that
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page213" id="page213"></a>[pg 213]</span>
the pellets resemble the nests of insects, but this resemblance
is only fortuitous. Near the tree is a rocking stone, which
the ghosts set in motion, and the sound that they make in
so doing is like the muffled roll of a drum. And while the
stone rocks to and fro with a hollow murmur, the ghosts
dance, the men on one side of the stone and the women on
the other. Again at Mabudavane, where the Mawata people
have gardens, you may sometimes hear, in the stillness of
night, the same weird murmur, which indicates the presence
of a ghost. Then everybody keeps quiet, the children are
hushed to silence, and all listen intently. The murmur
continues for a time and then ends abruptly in a splash,
which tells the listeners that the ghost has leaped over the
muddy creek. Further on, the spirits come to Boigu, where
they swim in the waterhole and often appear to people in
their real shape. But after Boigu the track of the ghosts is
lost, or at least has not been clearly ascertained. The spirit
world lies somewhere away in the far west, but the living
are not quite sure of the way to it, and they are somewhat
vague in their accounts of it. There is no difference
between the fate of the good and the fate of the bad
in the far country; the dead meet the friends who died
before them; and people who come from the same village
probably live together in the same rooms of the long
house of the ghosts. However, some native sceptics even
doubt whether there is such a place as Adiri at all, and
whether death may not be the end of consciousness to the
individual.<a id="footnotetag354" name="footnotetag354"></a><a href="#footnote354"><sup>354</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Appearance of the dead to the living in dreams.</p>

<p>The dead often appear to the living in dreams, warning
them of danger or furnishing them with useful information
with regard to the cultivation of their gardens, the practice of
witchcraft, and so on. In order to obtain advice from his dead
parents a man will sometimes dig up their skulls from the
grave and sleep beside them; and to make sure of receiving
their prompt attention he will not infrequently provide himself
with a cudgel, with which he threatens to smash their skulls
if they do not answer his questions. Some persons possess
a special faculty of communicating with the departing spirit
of a person who has just died. Should they desire to
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page214" id="page214"></a>[pg 214]</span>
question it they will lurk beside the road which ghosts are
known to take; and in order not to be betrayed by their
smell, which is very perceptible to a ghost, they will chew
the leaf or bark of a certain tree and spit the juice over
their bodies. Then the ghost cannot detect them, or rather
he takes them to be ghosts like himself, and accordingly he
may in confidence impart to them most valuable information,
such for example as full particulars with regard to
the real cause of his death. This priceless intelligence the
ghost-seer hastens to communicate to his fellow tribesmen.<a id="footnotetag355" name="footnotetag355"></a><a href="#footnote355"><sup>355</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Offerings to the dead.</p>

<p>When a man has just died and been buried, his surviving
relatives lay some of his weapons and ornaments,
together with presents of food, upon his grave, no doubt
for the use of the ghost; but some of these things they
afterwards remove and bring back to the village, probably
considering, with justice, that they will be more useful to
the living than to the dead. But offerings to the dead may
be presented to them at other places than their tombs.
"The great power," says Dr. Landtman, "which the dead
represent to the living has given rise to a sort of simple
offering to them, almost the only kind of offering met with
among the Kiwai Papuans. The natives occasionally lay
down presents of food at places to which spirits come,
and utter some request for assistance which the spirits
are supposed to hear."<a id="footnotetag356" name="footnotetag356"></a><a href="#footnote356"><sup>356</sup></a> In such offerings and prayers
we may detect the elements of a regular worship of the
dead.</p>

<p class="side">Dreams as a source of the belief in immortality.</p>

<p>With regard to the source of these beliefs among the
Kiwai people Dr. Landtman observes that "undoubtedly
dreams have largely contributed in supplying the natives
with ideas about Adiri and life after death. A great
number of dreams collected by me among the Kiwai people
tell of wanderings to Adiri or of meetings with spirits of
dead men, and as dreams are believed to describe the real
things which the soul sees while roaming about outside the
body, we understand that they must greatly influence the
imagination of the people."<a id="footnotetag357" name="footnotetag357"></a><a href="#footnote357"><sup>357</sup></a></p>

<p>That concludes what I have to say as to the belief in
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page215" id="page215"></a>[pg 215]</span>
immortality and the worship of the dead among the natives
of British New Guinea. In the following lectures I shall
deal with the same rudimentary aspect of religion as it is
reported to exist among the aborigines of the vast regions
of German and Dutch New Guinea.</p>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote310" name="footnote310"></a><b>Footnote 310:</b><a href="#footnotetag310"> (return) </a><p> C. G. Seligmann, <i>The Melanesians of British New
Guinea</i> (Cambridge, 1910), pp. 1 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote311" name="footnote311"></a><b>Footnote 311:</b><a href="#footnotetag311"> (return) </a><p>See below, pp. 242, 256, 261 <i>sq.</i>, 291.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote312" name="footnote312"></a><b>Footnote 312:</b><a href="#footnotetag312"> (return) </a><p> A. C. Haddon, <i>Headhunters, Black, White, and Brown</i>
(London, 1901), pp. 249 <i>sq.</i> As to the Motu and their Melanesian
or Polynesian affinities, see Rev. W. Y. Turner, "The Ethnology of the
Motu," <i>Journal of the Anthropological Institute</i>, vii. (1878) pp.
470 <i>sqq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote313" name="footnote313"></a><b>Footnote 313:</b><a href="#footnotetag313"> (return) </a><p> Rev. J. Chalmers, <i>Pioneering in New Guinea</i>
(London, 1887), pp. 168-170. Compare Rev. W. Y. Turner, "The Ethnology
of the Motu," <i>Journal of the Anthropological Institute</i>, vii.
(1878) pp. 484 <i>sqq.</i>; Rev. W. G. Lawes, "Ethnological Notes on the
Motu, Koitapu and Koiari Tribes of New Guinea," <i>Journal of the
Anthropological Institute</i>, viii. (1879) pp. 370 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote314" name="footnote314"></a><b>Footnote 314:</b><a href="#footnotetag314"> (return) </a><p> A. C. Haddon, <i>Headhunters, Black, White, and
Brown</i>, pp. 249 <i>sq.</i>; C. G. Seligmann, <i>The Melanesians of
British New Guinea</i>, pp. 16, 41. As to the Koita (or Koitapu) and the
Motu, see further the Rev. W. Y. Turner, "The Ethnology of the Motu,"
<i>Journal of the Anthropological Institute</i>, vii. (1878) pp. 470
<i>sqq.</i>; Rev. W. G. Lawes, "Ethnological Notes on the Motu, Koitapu
and Koiari Tribes of New Guinea," <i>Journal of the Anthropological
Institute</i>, viii. (1879) pp. 369 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote315" name="footnote315"></a><b>Footnote 315:</b><a href="#footnotetag315"> (return) </a><p>C. G. Seligmann, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 189-191.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote316" name="footnote316"></a><b>Footnote 316:</b><a href="#footnotetag316"> (return) </a><p>C. G. Seligmann, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 185 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote317" name="footnote317"></a><b>Footnote 317:</b><a href="#footnotetag317"> (return) </a><p>C. G. Seligmann, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 192.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote318" name="footnote318"></a><b>Footnote 318:</b><a href="#footnotetag318"> (return) </a><p> C. G. Seligmann, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 190-192. As to the
desertion of the house after death, see <i>id.</i>, pp. 89 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote319" name="footnote319"></a><b>Footnote 319:</b><a href="#footnotetag319"> (return) </a><p> The territory of the Roro-speaking tribes extends from
Kevori, east of Waimatuma (Cape Possession), to Hiziu in the
neighbourhood of Galley Reach. Inland of these tribes lies a region
called by them Mekeo, which is inhabited by two closely related tribes,
the Biofa and Vee. Off the coast lies Yule Island, which is commonly
called Roro. See C. G. Seligmann, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 195.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote320" name="footnote320"></a><b>Footnote 320:</b><a href="#footnotetag320"> (return) </a><p>V. Jouet, <i>La Soci&eacute;t&eacute; des Missionaires du Sacr&eacute; C&oelig;ur
dans les Vicariats Apostoliques de la M&eacute;lan&eacute;sie et de la Micron&eacute;sie</i>
(Issoudun, 1887), p. 30; Father Guis, "Les Canaques: Mort-deuil,"
<i>Missions Catholiques</i>, xxxiv. (1902) pp. 186, 200.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote321" name="footnote321"></a><b>Footnote 321:</b><a href="#footnotetag321"> (return) </a><p>C. G. Seligmann, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 274 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote322" name="footnote322"></a><b>Footnote 322:</b><a href="#footnotetag322"> (return) </a><p> Father Guis, "Les Canaques: Mort-deuil," <i>Missions
Catholiques</i>, xxxiv. (1902) pp. 208 <i>sq.</i> See <i>Psyche's
Task</i>, pp. 75 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote323" name="footnote323"></a><b>Footnote 323:</b><a href="#footnotetag323"> (return) </a><p>C. G. Seligmann, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 310.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote324" name="footnote324"></a><b>Footnote 324:</b><a href="#footnotetag324"> (return) </a><p> R. W. Williamson, <i>The Mafulu Mountain People of
British New Guinea</i> (London, 1912), pp. 2 <i>sq.</i>, 297
<i>sqq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote325" name="footnote325"></a><b>Footnote 325:</b><a href="#footnotetag325"> (return) </a><p> R. W. Williamson, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 243 <i>sq.</i>,
246, 266-269.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote326" name="footnote326"></a><b>Footnote 326:</b><a href="#footnotetag326"> (return) </a><p>R. W. Williamson, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 245-250.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote327" name="footnote327"></a><b>Footnote 327:</b><a href="#footnotetag327"> (return) </a><p>R. W. Williamson, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 256-258, 261-263.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote328" name="footnote328"></a><b>Footnote 328:</b><a href="#footnotetag328"> (return) </a><p>R. W. Williamson, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 125-152.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote329" name="footnote329"></a><b>Footnote 329:</b><a href="#footnotetag329"> (return) </a><p>R. W. Williamson, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 270 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote330" name="footnote330"></a><b>Footnote 330:</b><a href="#footnotetag330"> (return) </a><p> J. Chalmers and W. Wyatt Gill, <i>Work and Adventure in
New Guinea</i> (London, 1885), pp. 84-86.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote331" name="footnote331"></a><b>Footnote 331:</b><a href="#footnotetag331"> (return) </a><p> R. E. Guise, "On the Tribes inhabiting the Mouth of the
Wanigela River, New Guinea," <i>Journal of the Anthropological
Institute</i>, xxviii. (1899) p. 205.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote332" name="footnote332"></a><b>Footnote 332:</b><a href="#footnotetag332"> (return) </a><p> A. C. Haddon, <i>Headhunters, Black, White, and
Brown</i>, p. 213.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote333" name="footnote333"></a><b>Footnote 333:</b><a href="#footnotetag333"> (return) </a><p>R. E. Guise, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 216 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote334" name="footnote334"></a><b>Footnote 334:</b><a href="#footnotetag334"> (return) </a><p>R. E. Guise, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 210 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote335" name="footnote335"></a><b>Footnote 335:</b><a href="#footnotetag335"> (return) </a><p>R. E. Guise, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 211.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote336" name="footnote336"></a><b>Footnote 336:</b><a href="#footnotetag336"> (return) </a><p>R. E. Guise, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 213 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote337" name="footnote337"></a><b>Footnote 337:</b><a href="#footnotetag337"> (return) </a><p> <i>Psyche's Task</i>, pp. 52 <i>sqq.</i>; <i>Taboo and
the Perils of the Soul</i>, pp. 167 <i>sqq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote338" name="footnote338"></a><b>Footnote 338:</b><a href="#footnotetag338"> (return) </a><p> C. G. Seligmann, <i>The Melanesians
of British New Guinea</i>, p. 607.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote339" name="footnote339"></a><b>Footnote 339:</b><a href="#footnotetag339"> (return) </a><p>C. G. Seligmann, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 655.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote340" name="footnote340"></a><b>Footnote 340:</b><a href="#footnotetag340"> (return) </a><p>C. G. Seligmann, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 655 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote341" name="footnote341"></a><b>Footnote 341:</b><a href="#footnotetag341"> (return) </a><p>C. G. Seligmann, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 610.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote342" name="footnote342"></a><b>Footnote 342:</b><a href="#footnotetag342"> (return) </a><p>C. G. Seligmann, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 611.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote343" name="footnote343"></a><b>Footnote 343:</b><a href="#footnotetag343"> (return) </a><p>C. G. Seligmann, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 616 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote344" name="footnote344"></a><b>Footnote 344:</b><a href="#footnotetag344"> (return) </a><p>C. G. Seligmann. <i>op. cit.</i> p. 611.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote345" name="footnote345"></a><b>Footnote 345:</b><a href="#footnotetag345"> (return) </a><p>C. G. Seligmann, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 618 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote346" name="footnote346"></a><b>Footnote 346:</b><a href="#footnotetag346"> (return) </a><p>C. G. Seligmann, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 613 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote347" name="footnote347"></a><b>Footnote 347:</b><a href="#footnotetag347"> (return) </a><p> The Rev. J. T. Field of Tubetube (Slade Island), quoted
by George Brown, D.D., <i>Melanesians and Polynesians</i> (London,
1910), pp. 442 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote348" name="footnote348"></a><b>Footnote 348:</b><a href="#footnotetag348"> (return) </a><p>Rev. J. T. Field, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 443 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote349" name="footnote349"></a><b>Footnote 349:</b><a href="#footnotetag349"> (return) </a><p> C. G. Seligmann, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 629-631. Dr.
Seligmann seems to think that the custom is at present dictated by
courtesy and a reluctance to grieve the relatives of the deceased; but
the original motive can hardly have been any other than a fear of the
ghost.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote350" name="footnote350"></a><b>Footnote 350:</b><a href="#footnotetag350"> (return) </a><p>C. G. Seligmann, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 631 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote351" name="footnote351"></a><b>Footnote 351:</b><a href="#footnotetag351"> (return) </a><p> Rev. J. Chalmers, "Notes on the
Natives of Kiwai Island, Fly River,
British New Guinea," <i>Journal of the
Anthropological Institute</i>, xxxiii. (1903)
pp. 119, 120.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote352" name="footnote352"></a><b>Footnote 352:</b><a href="#footnotetag352"> (return) </a><p> G. Landtman, "Wanderings of the Dead in the Folk-lore of
the Kiwai-speaking Papuans," <i>Festskrift till&auml;gnad Edvard
Westermarck</i> (Helsingfors, 1912), pp. 59-66.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote353" name="footnote353"></a><b>Footnote 353:</b><a href="#footnotetag353"> (return) </a><p>G. Landtman, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 67 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote354" name="footnote354"></a><b>Footnote 354:</b><a href="#footnotetag354"> (return) </a><p>G. Landtman, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 68-71.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote355" name="footnote355"></a><b>Footnote 355:</b><a href="#footnotetag355"> (return) </a><p>G. Landtman, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 77 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote356" name="footnote356"></a><b>Footnote 356:</b><a href="#footnotetag356"> (return) </a><p>G. Landtman, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 78 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote357" name="footnote357"></a><b>Footnote 357:</b><a href="#footnotetag357"> (return) </a><p>G. Landtman, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 71.</p></blockquote>

<span class="pagenum"><a name="page216" id="page216"></a>[pg 216]</span>




<h2><a name="lecture-x" id="lecture-x"></a>LECTURE X</h2>

<h3>THE BELIEF IN IMMORTALITY AMONG THE NATIVES
OF GERMAN NEW GUINEA</h3>


<p class="side">Andrew Lang.</p>

<p>I feel that I cannot begin my second course of lectures without
referring to the loss which the study of primitive religion
has lately sustained by the death of one of my predecessors in
this chair, one who was a familiar and an honoured figure in
this place, Mr. Andrew Lang. Whatever may be the judgment
of posterity on his theories&mdash;and all our theories on these
subjects are as yet more or less tentative and provisional&mdash;there
can be no question but that by the charm of his
writings, the wide range of his knowledge, the freshness and
vigour of his mind, and the contagious enthusiasm which he
brought to bear on whatever he touched, he was a great
power in promoting the study of primitive man not in this
country only, but wherever the English language is spoken,
and that he won for himself a permanent place in the
history of the science to which he devoted so much of his
remarkable gifts and abilities. As he spent a part of every
winter in St. Andrews, I had thought that in the course on
which I enter to-day I might perhaps be honoured by his
presence at some of my lectures. But it was not to be.
Yet a fancy strikes me to which I will venture to give utterance.
You may condemn, but I am sure you will not smile
at it. It has been said of Macaulay that if his spirit ever
revisited the earth, it might be expected to haunt the
flagged walk beside the chapel in the great court of Trinity
College, Cambridge, the walk which in his lifetime he loved
to pace book in hand. And if Andrew Lang's spirit could
be seen flitting pensively anywhere, would it not be just
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page217" id="page217"></a>[pg 217]</span>
here, in "the college of the scarlet gown," in the "little city
worn and grey," looking out on the cold North Sea, the city
which he knew and loved so well? Be that as it may, his
memory will always be associated with St. Andrews; and
if the students who shall in future go forth from this ancient
university to carry St. Andrew's Cross, if I may say so, on
their banner in the eternal warfare with falsehood and error,&mdash;if
they cannot imitate Andrew Lang in the versatility of
his genius, in the variety of his accomplishments, in the
manifold graces of his literary art, it is to be hoped that
they will strive to imitate him in qualities which are
more within the reach of us all, in his passionate devotion
to knowledge, in his ardent and unflagging pursuit
of truth.</p>

<hr />

<p class="side">Review of preceding lectures.</p>

<p>In my last course of lectures I explained that I proposed
to treat of the belief in immortality from a purely
historical point of view. My intention is not to discuss the
truth of the belief or to criticise the grounds on which it has
been maintained. To do so would be to trench on the
province of the theologian and the philosopher. I limit
myself to the far humbler task of describing, first, the belief
as it has been held by some savage races, and, second, some
of the practical consequences which these primitive peoples
have deduced from it for the conduct of life, whether these
consequences take the shape of religious rites or moral
precepts. Now in such a survey of savage creed and
practice it is convenient to begin with the lowest races of
men about whom we have accurate information and to pass
from them gradually to higher and higher races, because we
thus start with the simplest forms of religion and advance
by regular gradations to more complex forms, and we may
hope in this way to render the course of religious evolution
more intelligible than if we were to start from the most
highly developed religions and to work our way down from
them to the most embryonic. In pursuance of this plan I
commenced my survey with the aborigines of Australia,
because among the races of man about whom we are well
informed these savages are commonly and, I believe, justly
supposed to stand at the foot of the human scale. Having
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page218" id="page218"></a>[pg 218]</span>
given you some account of their beliefs and practices concerning
the dead I attempted to do the same for the islanders
of Torres Straits and next for the natives of British New
Guinea. There I broke off, and to-day I shall resume the
thread of my discourse at the broken end by describing the
beliefs and practices concerning the dead, as these beliefs are
entertained and these practices observed by the natives of
German New Guinea.</p>

<p class="side">German New Guinea.</p>

<p>As you are aware, the German territory of New Guinea
skirts the British territory on the north throughout its entire
length and comprises roughly a quarter of the whole island,
the British and German possessions making up together the
eastern half of New Guinea, while the western half belongs
to Holland.</p>

<p class="side">Information as to the natives of German New Guinea.</p>

<p>Our information as to the natives of German New
Guinea is very fragmentary, and is confined almost entirely
to the tribes of the coast. As to the inhabitants of the
interior we know as yet very little. However, German
missionaries and others have described more or less fully the
customs and beliefs of the natives at various points of this
long coast, and I shall extract from their descriptions some
notices of that particular aspect of the native religion with
which in these lectures we are specially concerned. The
points on the coast as to which a certain amount of ethnographical
information is forthcoming are, to take them in the
order from west to east, Berlin Harbour, Potsdam Harbour,
Astrolabe Bay, the Maclay Coast, Cape King William,
Finsch Harbour, and the Tami Islands in Huon Gulf. I
propose to say something as to the natives at each of these
points, beginning with Berlin Harbour, the most westerly of
them.</p>

<p class="side">The island of Tumleo.</p>

<p>Berlin Harbour is formed by a group of four small
islands, which here lie off the coast. One of the islands
bears the name of Tumleo or Tamara, and we possess an
excellent account of the natives of this island from the pen
of a Catholic missionary, Father Mathias Josef Erdweg,<a id="footnotetag358" name="footnotetag358"></a><a href="#footnote358"><sup>358</sup></a>
which I shall draw upon in what follows. We have also
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page219" id="page219"></a>[pg 219]</span>
a paper by a German ethnologist, the late Mr. R. Parkinson,
on the same subject,<a id="footnotetag359" name="footnotetag359"></a><a href="#footnote359"><sup>359</sup></a> but his information is in part derived
from Father Erdweg and he appears to have erred by
applying too generally the statements which Father Erdweg
strictly limited to the inhabitants of Tumleo.<a id="footnotetag360" name="footnotetag360"></a><a href="#footnote360"><sup>360</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">The natives of Tumleo, their material and artistic culture.</p>

<p>The island of Tumleo lies in 142&deg; 25" of East Longitude
and 3&deg; 15" of South Latitude, and is distant about sixty
sea-miles from the westernmost point of German New
Guinea. It is a coral island, surrounded by a barrier reef
and rising for the most part only a few feet above the sea.<a id="footnotetag361" name="footnotetag361"></a><a href="#footnote361"><sup>361</sup></a>
In stature the natives fall below the average European
height; but they are well fed and strongly built. Their
colour varies from black to light brown. Their hair is very
frizzly. Women and children wear it cut short; men wear
it done up into wigs. They number less than three hundred,
divided into four villages. The population seems to have
declined through wars, disease, and infanticide.<a id="footnotetag362" name="footnotetag362"></a><a href="#footnote362"><sup>362</sup></a> Like the
Papuans generally, they live in settled villages and engage
in fishing, agriculture, and commerce. The houses are
solidly built of wood and are raised above the ground upon
piles, which consist of a hard and durable timber, sometimes
iron-wood.<a id="footnotetag363" name="footnotetag363"></a><a href="#footnote363"><sup>363</sup></a> The staple food of the people is sago, which
they obtain from the sago-palm. These stately palms,
with their fan-like foliage, are rare on the coral island of
Tumleo, but grow abundantly in the swampy lowlands of
the neighbouring mainland. Accordingly in the months
of May and June, when the sea is calm, the natives cross
over to the mainland in their canoes and obtain a supply
of sago in exchange for the products of their island. The
sago is eaten in the form both of porridge and of bread.<a id="footnotetag364" name="footnotetag364"></a><a href="#footnote364"><sup>364</sup></a>
Other vegetable foods are furnished by sweet potatoes, taro,
yams, bananas, sugar-cane, and coco-nuts, all of which the
natives cultivate.<a id="footnotetag365" name="footnotetag365"></a><a href="#footnote365"><sup>365</sup></a> Fishing is a principal industry of the
people; it is plied by both sexes and by old and young,
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page220" id="page220"></a>[pg 220]</span>
with nets, spears, and bows and arrows.<a id="footnotetag366" name="footnotetag366"></a><a href="#footnote366"><sup>366</sup></a> Pottery is another
flourishing industry. As among many other savages, it is
practised only by women, but the men take the pots to
market; for these islanders do a good business in pots
with the neighbouring tribes.<a id="footnotetag367" name="footnotetag367"></a><a href="#footnote367"><sup>367</sup></a> They build large outrigger
canoes, which sail well before the wind, but can hardly beat
up against it, being heavy to row. In these canoes the
natives of Tumleo make long voyages along the coast; but
as the craft are not very seaworthy they never stand out to
sea, if they can help it, but hug the shore in order to run
for safety to the beach in stormy weather.<a id="footnotetag368" name="footnotetag368"></a><a href="#footnote368"><sup>368</sup></a> In regard to
art the natives display some taste and skill in wood-carving.
For example, the projecting house-beams are sometimes
carved in the shape of crocodiles, birds, and grotesque human
figures; and their canoes, paddles, head-rests, drums, drum-sticks,
and vessels are also decorated with carving. Birds,
fish, crocodiles, foliage, and scroll-work are the usual
patterns.<a id="footnotetag369" name="footnotetag369"></a><a href="#footnote369"><sup>369</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">The temples (<i>paraks</i>) of Tumleo.</p>

<p>A remarkable feature in the villages of Tumleo and
the neighbouring islands and mainland consists of the
<i>paraks</i> or temples, the high gables of which may be
seen rising above the bushes in all the villages of this
part of the coast. No such buildings exist elsewhere in
this region. They are set apart for the worship of
certain guardian spirits, and on them the native lavishes
all the resources of his elementary arts of sculpture and
painting. They are built of wood in two storeys and raised
on piles besides. The approach to one of them is always
by one or two ladders provided on both sides with hand-rails
or banisters. These banisters are elaborately decorated
with carving, which is always of the same pattern.
One banister is invariably carved in the shape of a
crocodile holding a grotesque human figure in its jaws,
while on the other hand the animal's tail is grasped by
one or more human figures. The other banister regularly
exhibits a row of human or rather ape-like effigies seated
one behind the other, each of them resting his arms on the
shoulders of the figure in front. Often there are seven such
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page221" id="page221"></a>[pg 221]</span>
figures in a row. The natives are so shy in speaking of
these temples that it is difficult to ascertain the meaning
of the curious carvings by which they are adorned. Mr.
Parkinson supposed that they represent spirits, not apes.
He tells us that there are no apes in New Guinea. The
interior of the temple (<i>parak</i>) is generally empty. The
only things to be seen in its two rooms, the upper and
lower, are bamboo flutes and drums made out of the hollow
trunks of trees. On these instruments men concealed in
the temple discourse music in order to signify the presence
of the spirit.<a id="footnotetag370" name="footnotetag370"></a><a href="#footnote370"><sup>370</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">The bachelors' houses (<i>alols</i>) of Tumleo.</p>

<p>Different from these <i>paraks</i> or temples are the <i>alols</i>,
which are bachelors' houses and council-houses in one.
Like the temples, they are raised above the ground and
approached by a ladder, but unlike the temples they have
only one storey. In them the unmarried men live and the
married men meet to take counsel and to speak of things
which may not be mentioned before women. On a small
stand or table in each of these <i>alols</i> or men's clubhouses
are kept the skulls of dead men. And as the temple
(<i>parak</i>) is devoted to the worship of spirits, so the men's
clubhouse (<i>alol</i>) is the place where the dead ancestors are
worshipped. Women and children may not enter it, but it
is not regarded with such superstitious fear as the temple.
The dead are buried in their houses or beside them. Afterwards
the bones are dug up and the skulls of grown men
are deposited, along with one of the leg bones, on the
stand or table in the men's clubhouse (<i>alol</i>). The skulls of
youths, women, and children are kept in the houses where
they died. When the table in the clubhouse is quite full of
grinning trophies of mortality, the old skulls are removed
to make room for the new ones and are thrown away in a
sort of charnel-house, where the other bones are deposited
after they have been dug up from the graves. Such a
charnel-house is called a <i>tjoll p&aacute;ru</i>. There is one such
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page222" id="page222"></a>[pg 222]</span>
place for the bones of grown men and another for the bones
of women and children. Some bones, however, are kept
and used as ornaments or as means to work magic with.
For the dead are often invoked, for example, to lay the
wind or for other useful purposes; and at such invocations
the bones play a part.<a id="footnotetag371" name="footnotetag371"></a><a href="#footnote371"><sup>371</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Spirits of the dead thought to be the causes of sickness and
disease.</p>

<p>But while the spirits of the dead are thus invited to
help their living relations and friends, they are also feared
as the causes of sickness and disease. Any serious ailment
is usually attributed to magic or witchcraft, and the treatment
which is resorted to aims rather at breaking the spell
which has been cast on the sick man than at curing his
malady by the application of physical remedies. In short
the remedy is exorcism rather than physic. Now the
enchantment under which the patient is supposed to be
labouring is often, though not always, ascribed to the
malignant arts of the spirits of the dead, or the <i>m&otilde;s</i>, as the
natives of Tumleo call them. In such a case the ghosts are
thought to be clinging to the body of the sufferer, and the
object of the medical treatment is to detach them from him
and send them far away. With this kindly intention some
men will go into the forest and collect a number of herbs,
including a kind of peppermint. These are tied into one
or more bundles according to the number of the patients
and then taken to the men's clubhouse (<i>alol</i>), where they are
heated over a fire. Then the patient is brought, and two
men strike him lightly with the packet of herbs on his body
and legs, while they utter an incantation, inviting the
ancestral spirits who are plaguing him to leave his body
and go away, in order that he may be made whole. One
such incantation, freely translated, runs thus: "Spirit of the
great-grandfather, of the father, come out! We give thee
coco-nuts, sago-porridge, fish. Go away (from the sick man).
Let him be well. Do no harm here and there. Tell the
people of Leming (O spirit) to give us tobacco. When the
waves are still, we push off from the land, sailing northward
(to Tumleo). It is the time of the north-west wind (when
the surf is heavy). May the billows calm down in the south,
O in the south, on the coast of Leming, that we may sail
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page223" id="page223"></a>[pg 223]</span>
to the south, to Leming! Out there may the sea be calm,
that we may push off from the land for home!" In this
incantation a prayer to the spirit of the dead to relax his
hold on the sufferer appears to be curiously combined with
a prayer or spell to calm the sea when the people sail across
to the coast of Leming to fetch a cargo of tobacco. When
the incantation has been recited and the patient stroked
with the bundle of herbs, one of his ears and both his arm-pits
are moistened with a blood-red spittle produced by the
chewing of betel-nut, pepper, and lime. Then they take
hold of his fingers and make each of them crack, one after
the other, while they recite some of the words of the preceding
incantation. Next three men take each of them a branch
of the <i>volju</i> tree, bend it into a bow, and stroke the sick
man from head to foot, while they recite another incantation,
in which they command the spirit to let the sick man alone
and to go away into the water or the mud. Often when a
man is seriously ill he will remove from his own house to
the house of a relation or friend, hoping that the spirit who
has been tormenting him will not be able to discover him at
his new address.<a id="footnotetag372" name="footnotetag372"></a><a href="#footnote372"><sup>372</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Burial and mourning customs in Tumleo.</p>

<p>If despite of all these precautions the patient should die,
he or she is placed in a wooden coffin and buried with little
delay in a grave, which is dug either in the house or close
beside it. The body is smeared all over with clay and
decked with many rings or ornaments, most of which,
however, are removed in a spirit of economy before the lid
of the coffin is shut down. Sometimes arrows, sometimes a
rudder, sometimes the bones of dead relations are buried with
the corpse in the grave. When the grave is dug outside of
the house, a small hut is erected over it, and a fire is kept
burning on it for a time. In the house of mourning the
wife, sister, or other female relative of the deceased must
remain strictly secluded for a period which varies from a
few weeks to three months. In token of mourning the
widow's body is smeared with clay, and from time to time
she is heard to chant a dirge in a whining, melancholy tone.
This seclusion lasts so long as the ghost is supposed to be
still on his way to the other world. When he has reached
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page224" id="page224"></a>[pg 224]</span>
his destination, the fire is suffered to die down on the grave,
and his widow or other female relative is free to quit the
house and resume her ordinary occupations. Through her
long seclusion in the shade her swarthy complexion assumes
a lighter tint, but it soon deepens again when she is exposed
once more to the strong tropical sunshine.<a id="footnotetag373" name="footnotetag373"></a><a href="#footnote373"><sup>373</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Beliefs of the Tumleo people as to the fate of the human soul
after death.</p>

<p>The people of Tumleo firmly believe in the existence
of the human soul after death, though their notions of the
disembodied soul or <i>m&otilde;s</i>, as they call it, are vague. They
think that on its departure from the body the soul goes to
a place deep under ground, where there is a great water.
Over that water every soul must pass on a ladder to reach
the abode of bliss. The ladder is in the keeping of a spirit
called <i>Su asin tjakin</i> or "the Great Evil," who takes toll of
the ghosts before he lets them use his ladder. Hence an
ear-ring and a bracelet are deposited with every corpse in
the grave in order that the dead man may have wherewithal
to pay the toll to the spirit at the great water. When the
ghost arrives at the place of passage and begs for the use of
the ladder, the spirit asks him, "Shall I get my bracelet if I
let you pass?" If he receives it and happens to be in a
good humour, he will let the ghost scramble across the ladder
to the further shore. But woe to the stingy ghost, who
should try to sneak across the ladder without paying toll.
The ghostly tollkeeper detects the fraud in an instant and
roars out, "So you would cheat me of my dues? You shall
pay for that." So saying he tips the ladder up, and down
falls the ghost plump into the deep water and is drowned.
But the honest ghost, who has paid his way like a man and
arrived on the further shore, is met by two other ghosts
who ferry him in a canoe across to Sisano, which is a place
on the mainland a good many miles to the north of Tumleo.
A great river flows there and in the river are three cities of
the dead, in one of which the newly arrived ghost takes up
his abode. Then it is that the fire on his grave is allowed
to go out and his widow may mingle with her fellows again.
However, the ghosts are not strictly confined to the spirit-land.
They can come back to earth and roam about working good or
evil for the living and especially for their friends and relations.<a id="footnotetag374" name="footnotetag374"></a><a href="#footnote374"><sup>374</sup></a></p>

<span class="pagenum"><a name="page225" id="page225"></a>[pg 225]</span>

<p class="side">Monuments to the dead in Tumleo. Disinterment of the bones.</p>

<p>It is perhaps this belief not only in the existence but
in the return of the spirits of the dead which induces the
survivors to erect monuments or memorials to them. In
Tumleo these monuments consist for the most part of young
trees, which are cut down, stripped of their leaves, and set
up in the ground beside the house of the deceased. The
branches of such a memorial tree are hung with fruits,
coco-nuts, loin-cloths, pots, and personal ornaments, all of
which we may suppose are intended for the comfort and
convenience of the ghost when he returns from deadland
to pay his friends a visit.<a id="footnotetag375" name="footnotetag375"></a><a href="#footnote375"><sup>375</sup></a> But the remains of the dead are
not allowed to rest quietly in the grave for ever. After two
or three years they are dug up with much ceremony at the
point of noon, when the sun is high overhead. The skull
of the deceased, if he was a man, is then deposited, as we
saw, with one of the thigh bones in the men's clubhouse,
while of the remaining bones some are kept by the relations
and the others thrown away in a charnel-house. Among
the relics which the relations preserve are the lower arm
bones, the shoulder-blades, the ribs, and the vertebra. The
vertebra is often fastened to a bracelet; a couple of ribs are
converted into a necklace; and the shoulder-blades are used
to decorate baskets. The lower arm bones are generally
strung on a cord, which is worn on solemn occasions round
the neck so that the bones hang down behind. They are
especially worn thus in war, and they are made use of also
when their owner desires to obtain a favourable wind for a
voyage. No doubt, though this is not expressly affirmed,
the spirit of the departed is supposed to remain attached
in some fashion to his bones and so to help the possessor
of these relics in time of need. When the bones have been
dug up and disposed of with all due ceremony, several men
who were friends or relations of the deceased must keep
watch and ward for some days in the men's clubhouse,
where his grinning skull now stands amid similar trophies
of mortality on a table or shelf. They may not quit the
building except in case of necessity, and they must always
speak in a whisper for fear of disturbing the ghost, who is
very naturally lurking in the neighbourhood of his skull.
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page226" id="page226"></a>[pg 226]</span>
However, in spite of these restrictions the watchers enjoy
themselves; for baskets of sago and fish are provided
abundantly for their consumption, and if their tongues are
idle their jaws are very busy.<a id="footnotetag376" name="footnotetag376"></a><a href="#footnote376"><sup>376</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Propitiation of the souls of the dead and other spirits.</p>

<p>The people think that if they stand on a good footing
with the souls of the departed and with other spirits, these
powerful beings will bring them good luck in trade and on
their voyages. Now the time when trade is lively and the
calm sea is dotted with canoes plying from island to island
or from island to mainland, is the season when the gentle
south-east monsoon is blowing. On the other hand, when
the waves run high under the blast of the strong north-west
monsoon, the sea is almost deserted and the people stay
at home;<a id="footnotetag377" name="footnotetag377"></a><a href="#footnote377"><sup>377</sup></a> the season is to these tropical islanders what
winter is to the inhabitants of northern latitudes. Accordingly
it is when the wind is shifting round from the stormy
north-west to the balmy south-east that the natives set
themselves particularly to win the favour of ghosts and
spirits, and this they do by repairing the temples and clubhouses
in which the spirits and ghosts are believed to dwell,
and by cleaning and tidying up the open spaces around
them. These repairs are the occasion of a festival accompanied
by dances and games. Early in the morning of
the festive day the shrill notes of the flutes and the hollow
rub-a-dub of the drums are heard to proceed from the
interior of the temple, proclaiming the arrival of the guardian
spirit and his desire to partake of fish and sago. So the
men assemble and the feast is held in the evening. Festivals
are also held both in the temples and in the men's clubhouses
on the occasion of a successful hunt or fishing.
Out of gratitude for the help vouchsafed them by the
ancestral spirits, the hunters or fishers bring the larger
game or fish to the temples or clubhouses and eat them
there; and then hang up some parts of the animals or
fish, such as the skeletons, the jawbones of pigs, or the shells
of turtles, in the clubhouses as a further mark of homage to
the spirits of the dead.<a id="footnotetag378" name="footnotetag378"></a><a href="#footnote378"><sup>378</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Guardian spirits (<i>tapum</i>) in Tumleo.</p>

<p>So far as appears, the spirits who dwell in the temples
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page227" id="page227"></a>[pg 227]</span>
are not supposed to be ancestors. Father Erdweg describes
them as guardian spirits or goddesses, for they are all of the
female sex. Every village has several of them; indeed in
the village of Sapi almost every family has its own guardian
spirit. The name for these guardian spirits is <i>tapum</i>, which
seems to be clearly connected with the now familiar word
<i>tapu</i> or taboo, in the sense of sacred, which is universally
understood in the islands of the Pacific. On the whole
the <i>tapum</i> are kindly and beneficent spirits, who bring good
luck to such as honour them. A hunter or a fisherman
ascribes his success in the chase or in fishing to the protection
of his guardian spirit; and when he is away from
home trading for sago and other necessaries of life, it is
his guardian spirit who gives him favour in the eyes of
the foreigners with whom he is dealing. Curiously enough,
though these guardian spirits are all female, they have no
liking for women and children. Indeed, no woman or child
may set foot in a temple, or even loiter in the open space
in front of it. And at the chief festivals, when the temples
are being repaired, all the women and children must quit
the village till the evening shadows have fallen and the
banquet of their husbands, fathers, and brothers at the
temple is over.<a id="footnotetag379" name="footnotetag379"></a><a href="#footnote379"><sup>379</sup></a></p>

<p>On the whole, then, we conclude that a belief in the
continued existence of the spirits of the dead, and in their
power to help or harm their descendants, plays a considerable
part in the life of the Papuans of Tumleo. Whether
the guardian spirits or goddesses, who are worshipped in
the temples, were originally conceived as ancestral spirits or
not, must be left an open question for the present.</p>

<p class="side">The Monumbo of Potsdam Harbour.</p>

<p>Passing eastward from Tumleo along the northern coast
of German New Guinea we come to Monumbo or Potsdam
Harbour, situated about the 145th degree of East Longitude.
The Monumbo are a Papuan tribe numbering about four
hundred souls, who inhabit twelve small villages close to the
seashore. Their territory is a narrow but fertile strip of
country, well watered and covered with luxuriant vegetation,
lying between the sea and a range of hills. The bay is
sheltered by an island from the open sea, and the natives
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page228" id="page228"></a>[pg 228]</span>
can paddle their canoes on its calm water in almost any
weather. The villages, embowered on the landward side in
groves of trees of many useful sorts and screened in front
by rows of stately coco-nut palms, are composed of large
houses solidly built of timber and are kept very clean and
tidy. The Monumbo are a strongly-built people, of the
average European height, with what is described as a
remarkably Semitic type of features. The men wear their
hair plaited about a long tube, decorated with shells and
dogs' teeth, which sticks out stiffly from the head. The
women wear their hair in a sort of mop, composed of
countless plaits, which hang down in tangle. In disposition
the Monumbo are cheerful and contented, proud of themselves
and their country; they think they are the cleverest
and most fortunate people on earth, and look down with
pity and contempt on Europeans. According to them the
business of the foreign settlers in their country is folly, and
the teaching of the missionaries is nonsense. They subsist
by agriculture, hunting, and fishing. Their well-kept plantations
occupy the level ground and in some places extend
up the hill-sides. Among the plants which they cultivate
are taro, yams, sweet potatoes, bananas, various kinds of
vegetables, and sugar-cane. Among their fruit-trees are
the sago-palm, the coco-nut palm, and the bread-fruit tree.
They make use both of earthenware and of wooden vessels.
Their dances, especially their masked dances, which are
celebrated at intervals of four or five years, have excited
the warm admiration of the despised European.<a id="footnotetag380" name="footnotetag380"></a><a href="#footnote380"><sup>380</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Beliefs of the Monumbo concerning the spirits of the dead.
Dread of ghosts.</p>

<p>With regard to their religion and morality I will quote
the evidence of a Catholic missionary who has laboured
among them. "The Monumbo are acquainted with no
Supreme Being, no moral good or evil, no rewards, no
place of punishment or joy after death, no permanent
immortality.... When people die, their souls go to the land
of spirits, a place where they dwell without work or suffering,
but which they can also quit. Betel-chewing, smoking,
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page229" id="page229"></a>[pg 229]</span>
dancing, sleeping, all the occupations that they loved on
earth, are continued without interruption in the other
world. They converse with men in dreams, but play them
many a shabby trick, take possession of them and even, it
may be, kill them. Yet they also help men in all manner
of ways in war and the chase. Men invoke them, pray to
them, make statues in their memory, which are called <i>dva</i>
(plural <i>dvaka</i>), and bring them offerings of food, in order to
obtain their assistance. But if the spirits of the dead do
not help, they are rated in the plainest language. Death
makes no great separation. The living converse with the
dead very much as they converse with each other. Time
alone brings with it a gradual oblivion of the departed.
Falling stars and lightning are nothing but the souls of the
dead, who stick dry banana leaves in their girdles, set them
on fire, and then fly through the air. At last when the
souls are old they die, but are not annihilated, for they are
changed into animals and plants. Such animals are, for
example, the white ants and a rare kind of wild pig, which
is said not to allow itself to be killed. Such a tree, for
example, is the <i>barimbar</i>. That, apparently, is the whole
religion of the Monumbo. Yet they are ghost-seers of the
most arrant sort. An anxious superstitious fear pursues
them at every step. Superstitious views are the motives
that determine almost everything that they do or leave
undone."<a id="footnotetag381" name="footnotetag381"></a><a href="#footnote381"><sup>381</sup></a> Their dread of ghosts is displayed in their
custom of doing no work in the plantations for three days
after a death, lest the ghost, touched to the quick by their
heartless indifference, should send wild boars to ravage the
plantations. And when a man has slain an enemy in war,
he has to remain a long time secluded in the men's clubhouse,
touching nobody, not even his wife and children,
while the villagers celebrate his victory with song and
dance. He is believed to be in a state of ceremonial
impurity (<i>bolobolo</i>) such that, if he were to touch his wife
and children, they would be covered with sores. At the
end of his seclusion he is purified by washings and other
purgations and is clean once more.<a id="footnotetag382" name="footnotetag382"></a><a href="#footnote382"><sup>382</sup></a> The reason of this
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page230" id="page230"></a>[pg 230]</span>
uncleanness of a victorious warrior is not mentioned, but
analogy makes it nearly certain that it is a dread of the
vengeful ghost of the man whom he has slain. A similar
fear probably underlies the rule that a widower must abstain
from certain foods, such as fish and sauces, and from bathing
for a certain time after the death of his wife.<a id="footnotetag383" name="footnotetag383"></a><a href="#footnote383"><sup>383</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">The Tamos of Astrolabe Bay. Mistake of attempting to combine
descriptive with comparative anthropology.</p>

<p>Leaving Potsdam Harbour and the Monumbo, and
moving still eastward along the coast of German New
Guinea, we come to a large indentation known as Astrolabe
Bay. The natives of this part of the coast call themselves
Tamos. The largest village on the bay bears the name of
Bogadyim and in 1894 numbered about three hundred
inhabitants.<a id="footnotetag384" name="footnotetag384"></a><a href="#footnote384"><sup>384</sup></a> Our principal authority on the natives is a
German ethnologist, Dr. B. Hagen, who spent about eighteen
months at Stefansort on Astrolabe Bay. Unfortunately he
has mixed up his personal observations of these particular
people not merely with second-hand accounts of natives of
other parts of New Guinea but with discussions of general
theories of the origin and migrations of races and of the
development of social institutions; so that it is not altogether
easy to disentangle the facts for which he is a
first-hand witness, from those which he reports at second,
third, or fourth hand. Scarcely anything, I may observe in
passing, more impairs the value and impedes the usefulness
of personal observations of savage races than this deplorable
habit of attempting to combine the work of description with
the work of comparison and generalisation. The two kinds
of work are entirely distinct in their nature, and require
very different mental qualities for their proper performance;
the one should never be confused with the other.
The task of descriptive anthropology is to record observations,
without any admixture of theory; the task of
comparative anthropology is to compare the observations
made in all parts of the world, and from the comparison
to deduce theories, more or less provisional, of the origin
and growth of beliefs and institutions, always subject to
modification and correction by facts which may afterwards
be brought to light. There is no harm, indeed there is
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page231" id="page231"></a>[pg 231]</span>
great positive advantage, in the descriptive anthropologist
making himself acquainted with the theories of the comparative
anthropologist, for by so doing his attention will
probably be called to many facts which he might otherwise
have overlooked and which, when recorded, may either
confirm or refute the theories in question. But if he knows
these theories, he should keep his knowledge strictly in the
background and never interlard his descriptions of facts with
digressions into an alien province. In this way descriptive
anthropology and comparative anthropology will best work
hand in hand for the furtherance of their common aim, the
understanding of the nature and development of man.</p>

<p class="side">The religion of the Tamos. Beliefs of the Tamos as to the
souls of the dead.</p>

<p>Like the Papuans in general, the Tamos of Astrolabe
Bay are a settled agricultural people, who dwell in fixed
villages, subsist mainly by the produce of the ground which
they cultivate, and engage in a commerce of barter with their
neighbours.<a id="footnotetag385" name="footnotetag385"></a><a href="#footnote385"><sup>385</sup></a> Their material culture thus does not differ
essentially from that of the other Papuans, and I need not
give particulars of it. With regard to their religious views
Dr. Hagen tells us candidly that he has great hesitation in
expressing an opinion. "Nothing," he says very justly,
"is more difficult for a European than to form an approximately
correct conception of the religious views of a savage
people, and the difficulty is infinitely increased when the
enquirer has little or no knowledge of their language."
Dr. Hagen had, indeed, an excellent interpreter and intelligent
assistant in the person of a missionary, Mr. Hoffmann;
but Mr. Hoffmann himself admitted that he had no clear
ideas as to the religious views of the Tamos; however, in his
opinion they are entirely destitute of the conception of God
and of a Creator. Yet among the Tamos of Bogadyim,
Dr. Hagen tells us, a belief in the existence of the soul after
death is proved by their assertion that after death the soul
(<i>gunung</i>) goes to <i>buka kure</i>, which seems to mean the village
of ghosts. This abode of the dead appears to be situated
somewhere in the earth, and the Tamos speak of it with a
shudder. They tell of a man in the village of Bogadyim
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page232" id="page232"></a>[pg 232]</span>
who died and went away to the village of the ghosts. But
as he drew near to the village, he met the ghost of his dead
brother who had come forth with bow and arrows and spear
to hunt a wild boar. This boar-hunting ghost was very
angry at meeting his brother, who had just died, and drove
him back to the land of the living. From this narrative it
would seem that in the other world the ghosts are thought
to pursue the same occupations which they followed in life.
The natives are in great fear of ghosts (<i>buka</i>). Travelling
alone with them in the forest at nightfall you may mark
their timidity and hear them cry anxiously, "Come, let us
be going! The ghost is roaming about." The ghosts of
those who have perished in battle do not go to the Village
of Ghosts (<i>buka kure</i>); they repair to another place called
<i>bopa kure</i>. But this abode of the slain does not seem to be
a happy land or Valhalla; the natives are even more afraid
of it than of the Village of Ghosts (<i>buka kure</i>). They will
hardly venture at night to pass a spot where any one has
been slain. Sometimes fires are kindled by night on such
spots; and the sight of the flames flickering in the distance
inspires all the beholders with horror, and nothing in the
world would induce them to approach such a fire. The
souls of men who have been killed, but whose death has not
been avenged, are supposed to haunt the village. For some
time after death the ghost is believed to linger in the
neighbourhood of his deserted body. When Mr. Hoffmann
went with some Tamos to another village to bring back the
body of a fellow missionary, who had died there, and darkness
had fallen on them in the forest, his native companions
started with fear every moment, imagining that they saw
the missionary's ghost popping out from behind a tree.<a id="footnotetag386" name="footnotetag386"></a><a href="#footnote386"><sup>386</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Treatment of the corpse. Secret Society called <i>Asa</i>.</p>

<p>When death has taken place, the corpse is first exposed
on a scaffold in front of the house, where it is decked with
ornaments and surrounded with flowers. If the deceased
was rich, a dog is hung on each side of the scaffold, and
the souls of the animals are believed to accompany the
ghost to the spirit-land. Taros, yams, and coco-nuts are
also suspended from the scaffold, no doubt for the refreshment
of the ghost. Then the melancholy notes of a horn are
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page233" id="page233"></a>[pg 233]</span>
heard in the distance, at the sound of which all the women
rush away. Soon the horn-blower appears, paints the
corpse white and red, crowns it with great red hibiscus
roses, then blows his horn, and vanishes.<a id="footnotetag387" name="footnotetag387"></a><a href="#footnote387"><sup>387</sup></a> He is a member
of a secret society, called <i>Asa</i>, which has its lodge standing
alone in the forest. Only men belong to the society;
women and children are excluded from it and look upon
it with fear and awe. If any one raises a cry, "<i>Asa</i>
is coming," or the sound of the musical instruments of
the society is heard in the distance, all the women
and children scamper away. The natives are very unwilling
to let any stranger enter one of the lodges of the
society. The interior of such a building is usually somewhat
bare, but it contains the wooden masks which are
worn in the ceremonial dances of the society, and the
horns and flutes on which the members discourse their
awe-inspiring music. In construction it scarcely differs
from the ordinary huts of the village; if anything it
is worse built and more primitive. The secrets of the
society are well kept; at least very little seems to have
been divulged to Europeans. The most important of
its ceremonies is that of the initiation of the young men,
who on this occasion are circumcised before they are
recognised as full-grown men and members of the secret
society. At such times the men encamp and feast for
weeks or even months together on the open space in
front of the society's lodge, and masked dances are danced
to the accompaniment of the instrumental music. These
initiatory ceremonies are held at intervals of about ten or
fifteen years, when there are a considerable number of
young men to be initiated together.<a id="footnotetag388" name="footnotetag388"></a><a href="#footnote388"><sup>388</sup></a> Although we are still
in the dark as to the real meaning of this and indeed
of almost all similar secret societies among savages, the
solemn part played by a member of the society at the
funeral rites seems very significant. Why should he come
mysteriously to the melancholy music of the horn, paint
the corpse red and white, crown it with red roses, and then
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page234" id="page234"></a>[pg 234]</span>
vanish again to music as he had come? It is scarcely
rash to suppose that this ceremony has some reference to
the state of the dead man's soul, and we may conjecture
that just as the fruits hung on the scaffold are doubtless
intended for the consumption of the ghost, and the souls
of the dogs are expressly said to accompany him to the
spirit-land, so the painting of the corpse and the crown
of red roses may be designed in some way to speed the
parting spirit on the way to its long home. In the absence
of exact information as to the beliefs of these savages
touching the state of the dead we can only guess at the
meaning which they attach to these symbols. Perhaps
they think that only ghosts who are painted red and white
and who wear wreaths of red roses on their heads are
admitted to the Village of the Ghosts, and that such as
knock at the gate with no paint on their bodies and no
wreath of roses on their brows are refused admittance and
must turn sorrowfully away, to haunt their undutiful friends
on earth who had omitted to pay the last marks of respect
and honour to the dead.</p>

<p class="side">Burial customs of the Tamos. Removal of the lower jawbone.</p>

<p>When the corpse has lain in all its glory, with its
ornaments, its paint and its flowers, for a short time on
the scaffold, it is removed and buried. The exposure
never lasts more than a day. If the man died in the
morning, he is buried at night. The grave is dug in the
house itself. It is only about three feet deep and four feet
long. If the corpse is too long for the grave, as usually
happens, the legs are remorselessly doubled up and trampled
in. It is the relations on the mother's side who dig the
grave and lower the body, shrouded in mats or leaves,
into its narrow bed. Before doing so they take care to
strip it of its ornaments, its rings, necklaces, boar's teeth,
and so forth, which no doubt are regarded as too valuable
to be sacrificed. Yet a regard for the comfort of the dead
is shewn by the custom of covering the open grave with
wood and then heaping the mould on the top, in order, we
are told, that the earth may not press heavy on him who
sleeps below. <i>Sit tibi terra levis!</i> After some months
the grave is opened and the lower jaw removed from the
corpse and preserved. This removal of the jaw is the
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page235" id="page235"></a>[pg 235]</span>
occasion of solemnities and ceremonial washings, in which
the whole male population of the village takes part.
But as to the meaning of these ceremonies, and as to
what is done with the jawbone, we have no exact information.<a id="footnotetag389" name="footnotetag389"></a><a href="#footnote389"><sup>389</sup></a>
According to the Russian traveller, Baron N.
von Miklucho-Maclay, who has also given us an account
of the Papuans of Astrolabe Bay,<a id="footnotetag390" name="footnotetag390"></a><a href="#footnote390"><sup>390</sup></a> though not apparently
of the villages described by Dr. Hagen, the whole skull
is dug up and separated from the corpse after the lapse of
about a year, but only the lower jawbone is carefully kept by
the nearest kinsman as a memorial of the deceased. Baron
Miklucho-Maclay had great difficulty in inducing a native
to part with one of these memorials of a dead relation.<a id="footnotetag391" name="footnotetag391"></a><a href="#footnote391"><sup>391</sup></a>
In any case the preservation of this portion of the deceased
may be supposed to have for its object the maintenance of
friendly relations between the living and the dead. Similarly
in Uganda the jawbone is the only part of the body of a
deceased king which, along with his navel-string, is carefully
preserved in his temple-tomb and consulted oracularly.<a id="footnotetag392" name="footnotetag392"></a><a href="#footnote392"><sup>392</sup></a>
We may conjecture that the reason for preserving this
part of the human frame rather than any other is that the
jawbone is an organ of speech, and that therefore it appears
to the primitive mind well fitted to maintain intercourse
with the dead man's spirit and to obtain oracular communications
from him.</p>

<p class="side">Sham fight as a funeral ceremony at Astrolabe Bay.</p>

<p>The Russian traveller, Baron Miklucho-Maclay, has
described a curious funeral ceremony which is observed by
some of the Papuans of Astrolabe Bay.  I will give the first
part of his description in his own words, which I translate from
the German. He says: "The death of a man is announced to
the neighbouring villages by a definite series of beats on the
drum. On the same day or the next morning the whole male
population assembles in the vicinity of the village of the
deceased.  All the men are in full warlike array. To the
beat of drum the guests march into the village, where a crowd
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page236" id="page236"></a>[pg 236]</span>
of men, also armed for war, await the new-comers beside the
dead man's hut. After a short parley the men divide into
two opposite camps, and thereupon a sham fight takes place.
However, the combatants go to work very gingerly and
make no use of their spears. But dozens of arrows are
continually discharged, and not a few are wounded in the
sham fight, though not seriously. The nearest relations and
friends of the deceased appear especially excited and behave
as if they were frantic. When all are hot and tired and all
arrows have been shot away, the pretended enemies seat
themselves in a circle and in what follows most of them act
as simple spectators." Thereupon the nearest relations
bring out the corpse and deposit it in a crouching position,
with the knees drawn up to the chin, on some mats and
leaves of the sago-palm, which had previously been spread
out in the middle of the open space. Beside the corpse are
laid his things, some presents from neighbours, and some
freshly cooked food. While the men sit round in a circle,
the women, even the nearest relatives of the deceased, may
only look on from a distance. When all is ready, some
men step out from the circle to help the nearest of kin in
the next proceedings, which consist in tying the corpse up
tightly into a bundle by means of rattans and creepers.
Then the bundle is attached to a stout stick and carried
back into the house. There the corpse in its bundle is
fastened under the roof by means of the stick, and the dead
man's property, together with the presents of the neighbours
and the food, are left beside it. After that the house is
abandoned, and the guests return to their own villages. A
few days later, when decomposition is far advanced, the
corpse is taken down and buried in a grave in the house,
which continues to be inhabited by the family. After the
lapse of about a year, the body is dug up, the skull separated
from it, and the lower jawbone preserved by the nearest
relation, as I have already mentioned.<a id="footnotetag393" name="footnotetag393"></a><a href="#footnote393"><sup>393</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">The sham fight perhaps intended to deceive the ghost.</p>

<p>What is the meaning of this curious sham fight which
among these people seems to be regularly enacted after a
death? The writer who reports the custom offers no
explanation of it. I would conjecture with all due caution
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page237" id="page237"></a>[pg 237]</span>
that it may possibly be intended as a satisfaction to the
ghost in order to make him suppose that his death has been
properly avenged. In a former lecture I shewed that natural
deaths are regularly imagined by many savages to be
brought about by the magical practices of enemies, and that
accordingly the relations of the deceased take vengeance on
some innocent person whom for one reason or another they
regard as the culprit. It is possible that these Papuans of
Astrolabe Bay, instead of actually putting the supposed
sorcerer to death, have advanced so far as to abandon that
cruel and unjust practice and content themselves with
throwing dust in the eyes of the ghost by a sham instead of
a real fight. But that is only a conjecture of my own,
which I merely suggest for what it is worth.</p>

<p>Altogether, looking over the scanty notices of the beliefs
and practices of these Papuans of Astrolabe Bay concerning
the departed, we may say in general that while the fear of
ghosts is conspicuous enough among them, there is but little
evidence of anything that deserves to be called a regular
worship of the dead.</p>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote358" name="footnote358"></a><b>Footnote 358:</b><a href="#footnotetag358"> (return) </a><p> P. Mathias Josef Erdweg, "Die Bewohner der Insel Tumleo,
Berlin-hafen, Deutsch-Neu-Guinea," <i>Mittheilungen der
Anthropologischen Gesellschaft in Wien</i>, xxxii. (1902) pp. 274-310,
317-399.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote359" name="footnote359"></a><b>Footnote 359:</b><a href="#footnotetag359"> (return) </a><p> R. Parkinson, "Die Berlinhafen Section, ein Beitrag zur
Ethnographie der Neu-Guinea-K&uuml;ste," <i>Internationales Archiv f&uuml;r
Ethnographie</i>, xiii. (1900) pp. 18-54.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote360" name="footnote360"></a><b>Footnote 360:</b><a href="#footnotetag360"> (return) </a><p> See the note of Father P. W. Schmidt on Father Erdweg's
paper, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 274.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote361" name="footnote361"></a><b>Footnote 361:</b><a href="#footnotetag361"> (return) </a><p>Erdweg, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 274.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote362" name="footnote362"></a><b>Footnote 362:</b><a href="#footnotetag362"> (return) </a><p> Erdweg, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 277 <i>sq</i>. The frizzly
character of the hair is mentioned by Mr. R. Parkinson, <i>op. cit.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote363" name="footnote363"></a><b>Footnote 363:</b><a href="#footnotetag363"> (return) </a><p>Erdweg, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 355 <i>sqq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote364" name="footnote364"></a><b>Footnote 364:</b><a href="#footnotetag364"> (return) </a><p>Erdweg, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 342-346.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote365" name="footnote365"></a><b>Footnote 365:</b><a href="#footnotetag365"> (return) </a><p>Erdweg, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 335 <i>sqq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote366" name="footnote366"></a><b>Footnote 366:</b><a href="#footnotetag366"> (return) </a><p>Erdweg, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 330 <i>sqq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote367" name="footnote367"></a><b>Footnote 367:</b><a href="#footnotetag367"> (return) </a><p>Erdweg, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 350 <i>sqq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote368" name="footnote368"></a><b>Footnote 368:</b><a href="#footnotetag368"> (return) </a><p>Erdweg, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 363 <i>sqq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote369" name="footnote369"></a><b>Footnote 369:</b><a href="#footnotetag369"> (return) </a><p>Erdweg, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 374.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote370" name="footnote370"></a><b>Footnote 370:</b><a href="#footnotetag370"> (return) </a><p> R. Parkinson, "Die Berlinhafen Section, ein Beitrag zur
Ethnographie der Neu-Guinea-K&uuml;ste," <i>Internationales Archiv f&uuml;r
Ethnographie</i>, xiii. (1900) pp. 33-35. Father Erdweg speaks of the
<i>parak</i> as a spirit-temple or spirit-house in which the deities of
the Tumleo dwell (<i>op. cit.</i> p. 377): he tells us that as a rule
each village has only one <i>parak</i>. As to the spirits which dwell in
these temples, see below, pp. 226 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote371" name="footnote371"></a><b>Footnote 371:</b><a href="#footnotetag371"> (return) </a><p> R. Parkinson, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 35, 42 <i>sq.</i>;
Erdweg, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 292 <i>sq.</i>, 306.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote372" name="footnote372"></a><b>Footnote 372:</b><a href="#footnotetag372"> (return) </a><p>Erdweg, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 284-287.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote373" name="footnote373"></a><b>Footnote 373:</b><a href="#footnotetag373"> (return) </a><p>Erdweg, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 288-291.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote374" name="footnote374"></a><b>Footnote 374:</b><a href="#footnotetag374"> (return) </a><p>Erdweg, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 297 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote375" name="footnote375"></a><b>Footnote 375:</b><a href="#footnotetag375"> (return) </a><p>Erdweg, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 291.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote376" name="footnote376"></a><b>Footnote 376:</b><a href="#footnotetag376"> (return) </a><p>Erdweg, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 291-293.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote377" name="footnote377"></a><b>Footnote 377:</b><a href="#footnotetag377"> (return) </a><p>Erdweg, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 298, 371.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote378" name="footnote378"></a><b>Footnote 378:</b><a href="#footnotetag378"> (return) </a><p> Erdweg, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 295 <i>sqq.</i>,
299 <i>sq.</i>, 334 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote379" name="footnote379"></a><b>Footnote 379:</b><a href="#footnotetag379"> (return) </a><p>Erdweg, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 295-297.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote380" name="footnote380"></a><b>Footnote 380:</b><a href="#footnotetag380"> (return) </a><p> P. Franz Vormann, "Dorf und Hausanlage beiden Monumbo,
Deutsch-Neuguinea," <i>Anthropos</i>, iv. (1909) pp. 660 <i>sqq.</i>;
<i>id.</i>, "Zur Psychologie, Religion, Soziologie und Geschichte der
Monumbo-Papua, Deutsch-Neuguinea," <i>Anthropos</i>, v. (1910) pp.
407-409.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote381" name="footnote381"></a><b>Footnote 381:</b><a href="#footnotetag381"> (return) </a><p> P. Franz Vormann, in <i>Anthropos</i>, v. (1910) pp. 409
<i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote382" name="footnote382"></a><b>Footnote 382:</b><a href="#footnotetag382"> (return) </a><p> P. Franz Vormann, in <i>Anthropos</i>, v. (1910) pp. 410,
411.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote383" name="footnote383"></a><b>Footnote 383:</b><a href="#footnotetag383"> (return) </a><p>P. Franz Vormann, <i>ibid.</i>, p. 412.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote384" name="footnote384"></a><b>Footnote 384:</b><a href="#footnotetag384"> (return) </a><p>B. Hagen, <i>Unter den Papua's</i> (Wiesbaden, 1899), pp. 143, 221.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote385" name="footnote385"></a><b>Footnote 385:</b><a href="#footnotetag385"> (return) </a><p> For the evidence see B. Hagen, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 193
<i>sqq.</i> As to barter he tells us (p. 216) that all articles in use
at Bogadyim are imported, nothing is made on the spot.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote386" name="footnote386"></a><b>Footnote 386:</b><a href="#footnotetag386"> (return) </a><p>B. Hagen, <i>Unter den Papua's</i> (Wiesbaden, 1899), pp. 264-266.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote387" name="footnote387"></a><b>Footnote 387:</b><a href="#footnotetag387"> (return) </a><p>B. Hagen, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 258 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote388" name="footnote388"></a><b>Footnote 388:</b><a href="#footnotetag388"> (return) </a><p> B. Hagen, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 270 <i>sq.</i>
As to the period and details of the
circumcision ceremonies see <i>id.</i>, pp.
234-238.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote389" name="footnote389"></a><b>Footnote 389:</b><a href="#footnotetag389"> (return) </a><p>B. Hagen, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 260.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote390" name="footnote390"></a><b>Footnote 390:</b><a href="#footnotetag390"> (return) </a><p> N. von Miklucho-Maclay, "Ethnologische Bemerkungen &uuml;ber
die Papuas der Maclay-K&uuml;ste in Neu-Guinea," <i>Natuurkundig Tijdschrift
voor Nederlandsch Indie</i>, xxxv. (1875) pp. 66-93; <i>id.</i>, xxxvi.
(1876) pp. 294-333.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote391" name="footnote391"></a><b>Footnote 391:</b><a href="#footnotetag391"> (return) </a><p> N. von Miklucho-Maclay, <i>op. cit.</i> xxxvi. (1876) p.
302.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote392" name="footnote392"></a><b>Footnote 392:</b><a href="#footnotetag392"> (return) </a><p> Rev. J. Roscoe, <i>The Baganda</i> (London, 1911), pp.
109 <i>sqq.</i>; <i>Totemism and Exogamy</i>, ii. 470.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote393" name="footnote393"></a><b>Footnote 393:</b><a href="#footnotetag393"> (return) </a><p>N. von Miklucho-Maclay, <i>op. cit.</i> xxxvi. (1876) pp. 300-302.</p></blockquote>

<span class="pagenum"><a name="page238" id="page238"></a>[pg 238]</span>




<h2><a name="lecture-xi" id="lecture-xi"></a>LECTURE XI</h2>

<h3>THE BELIEF IN IMMORTALITY AMONG THE NATIVES
OF GERMAN NEW GUINEA (<i>continued</i>)</h3>


<p class="side">The Papuans of Cape King William.</p>

<p>In my last lecture I gave you some account of the beliefs
and practices concerning the dead which have been recorded
among the Papuans of German New Guinea. To-day I
resume the subject and shall first speak of the natives on
the coast about Cape King William, at the foot of Mount
Cromwell. We possess an account of their religion and
customs from the pen of a German missionary, Mr. Stolz,
who has lived three years among them and studied their
language.<a id="footnotetag394" name="footnotetag394"></a><a href="#footnote394"><sup>394</sup></a> His description applies to the inhabitants of two
villages only, namely Lamatkebolo and Quambu, or Sialum
and Kwamkwam, as they are generally called on the maps,
who together number about five hundred souls. They
belong to the Papuan stock and subsist chiefly by the cultivation
of yams, which they plant in April or May and
reap in January or February. But they also cultivate sweet
potatoes and make some use of bananas and coco-nuts.
They clear the land for cultivation by burning down the grass
and afterwards turning up the earth with digging-sticks, a
labour which is performed chiefly by the men. The land is
not common property; each family tills its own fields, though
sometimes one family will aid another in the laborious task
of breaking up the soil. Moreover they trade with the
natives of the interior, who, inhabiting a more fertile and
better-watered country, are able to export a portion of their
superfluities, especially taro, sweet potatoes, betel-nuts, and
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page239" id="page239"></a>[pg 239]</span>
tobacco, to the less favoured dwellers on the sea-coast, receiving
mostly dried fish in return. Curiously enough the
traffic is chiefly in the hands of old women.<a id="footnotetag395" name="footnotetag395"></a><a href="#footnote395"><sup>395</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Propitiation of ghosts and spirits. The spirit Mate. Spirits
called <i>Nai</i>.</p>

<p>With regard to the religion of these people Mr. Stolz
tells us that they know nothing of a deity who should
receive the homage of his worshippers; they recognise only
spirits and the souls of the dead. To these last they bring
offerings, not because they feel any need to do them reverence,
but simply out of fear and a desire to win their favour.
The offerings are presented at burials and when they begin
to cultivate the fields. Their purpose is to persuade the
souls of the dead to ward off all the evil influences that
might thwart the growth of the yams, their staple food.
The ghosts are also expected to guard the fields against
the incursions of wild pigs and the ravages of locusts. At
a burial the aim of the sacrifice is to induce the soul of the
departed brother or sister to keep far away from the village
and to do no harm to the people. Sacrifices are even
offered to the souls of animals, such as dogs and pigs, to
prevent them from coming back and working mischief.
However, the ghosts of these creatures are not very exacting;
a few pieces of sugar-cane, a coco-nut shell, or a taro
shoot suffice to content their simple tastes and to keep them
quiet. Amongst the spirits to whom the people pay a sort
of worship there is one named Mate, who seems to be
closely akin to Balum, a spirit about whom we shall hear
more among the Yabim further to the east. However, not
very much is known about Mate; his worship, if it can be
called so, flourishes chiefly among the inland tribes, of whom
the coast people stand so much in awe that they dare not
speak freely on the subject of this mysterious being. Some
of them indeed are bold enough to whisper that there is no
such being as Mate at all, and that the whole thing is a
cheat devised by sly rogues for the purpose of appropriating
a larger share of roast pork at their religious feasts, from
which women are excluded. Whatever may be thought of
these sceptical views, it appears to be certain that the name
of Mate is also bestowed on a number of spirits who disport
themselves by day in open grassy places, while they retire
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page240" id="page240"></a>[pg 240]</span>
by night to the deep shades of the forest; and the majority
of these spirits are thought to be the souls of ancestors or
of the recently departed. Again, there is another class
of spirits called <i>Nai</i>, who unlike all other spirits are on
friendly terms with men. These are the souls of dead
villagers, who died far away from home. They warn people
of danger and very obligingly notify them of the coming
of trading steamers. When a man dies in a foreign land,
his soul appears as a <i>Nai</i> to his sorrowing relatives and
announces his sad fate to them. He does so always at night.
When the men are gathered round the fire on the open
square of the village, the ghost climbs the platform which
usually serves for public meetings and banquets, and from
this coin of vantage, plunged in the deep shadow, he lifts up
his voice and delivers his message of warning, news, or
prediction, as the case may be.<a id="footnotetag396" name="footnotetag396"></a><a href="#footnote396"><sup>396</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">The creator Nemunemu. Sickness and death often regarded as
the effects of sorcery.</p>

<p>However, ghosts of the dead are not the only spiritual
beings with whom these people are acquainted. They know
of a much higher being, of the name of Nemunemu, endowed
with superhuman power, who made the heaven and the
earth with the assistance of two brothers; the elder brother
constructed the mainland of New Guinea, while the younger
fashioned the islands and the sea. When the natives first
saw a steamer on the horizon they thought it was Nemunemu's
ship, and the smoke at the funnel they took to be the
tobacco-smoke which he puffed to beguile the tedium of the
voyage.<a id="footnotetag397" name="footnotetag397"></a><a href="#footnote397"><sup>397</sup></a> They are also great believers in magic and witchcraft,
and cases of sickness and death, which are not attributed
to the malignity of ghosts and spirits, are almost invariably
set down to the machinations of sorcerers. Only the deaths
of decrepit old folks are regarded as natural. When a man
has died, and his death is believed to have been caused by
magic, the people resort to divination in order to discover
the wicked magician who has perpetrated the crime. For
this purpose they place the corpse on a bier, cover it with a
mat, and set it on the shoulders of four men, while a fifth
man taps lightly with an arrow on the mat and enquires of
the departed whether such and such a village has bewitched
him to death. If the bier remains still, it means "No"; but
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page241" id="page241"></a>[pg 241]</span>
if it rocks backward and forward, it means "Yes," and the
avengers of blood must seek their victim, the guilty sorcerer,
in that village. The answer is believed to be given by the
dead man's ghost, who stirs his body at the moment when
his murderer's village is named. It is useless for the
inhabitants of that village to disclaim all knowledge of the
sickness and death of the deceased. The people repose
implicit faith in this form of divination. "His soul itself
told us," they say, and surely he ought to know. Another
form of divination which they employ for the same purpose
is to put the question to the ghost, while two men hold a bow
which belonged to him and to which some personal articles
of his are attached. The answer is again yes or no according
as the bow moves or is still.<a id="footnotetag398" name="footnotetag398"></a><a href="#footnote398"><sup>398</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Funeral and mourning customs.</p>

<p>When the author of the death has been discovered in
one way or another, the corpse is decked with all the ornaments
that can be collected from the relatives and prepared
for burial. A shallow grave is dug under the house and
lined with mats. Then the body is lowered into the grave:
one of the sextons strikes up a lament, and the shrill voices
of the women in the house join in the melancholy strain.
When he lies in his narrow bed, the ornaments are removed
from his person, but some of his tools, weapons, and other
belongings are buried with him, no doubt for his use in the
life hereafter. The funeral celebration, in which the whole
village commonly takes part, lasts several days and consists
in the bringing of offerings to the dead and the abstinence
from all labour in the fields. Yams are brought from the
field of the departed and cooked. A small pot filled with
yams and a vessel of water are placed on the grave; the
rest of the provisions is consumed by the mourners. The
next of kin, especially the widow or widower, remain for
about a week at the grave, watching day and night, lest the
body should be dug up and devoured by a certain foul fiend
with huge wings and long claws, who battens on corpses.
The mourning costume of men consists in smearing the face
with black and wearing a cord round the neck and a netted
cap on the head. Instead of such a cap a woman in
mourning wraps herself in a large net and a great apron of
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page242" id="page242"></a>[pg 242]</span>
grass. While the other ensigns of woe are soon discarded
or disappear, the cord about the neck is worn for a longer
time, generally till next harvest. The sacrifice of a pig
brings the period of mourning to an end and after it the
cord may be laid aside. If any one were so hard-hearted
as not to wear that badge of sorrow, the people believe that
the angry ghost would come back and fetch him away. He
would die.<a id="footnotetag399" name="footnotetag399"></a><a href="#footnote399"><sup>399</sup></a> Thus among these savages the mourning
costume is regarded as a protection against the dangerous
ghost of the departed; it soothes his wounded feelings and
prevents him from making raids on the living.</p>

<p class="side">Fate of the souls of the dead.</p>

<p>As to the place to which the souls of the dead repair
and the fate that awaits them there, very vague and contradictory
ideas prevail among the natives of this district.
Some say that the ghosts go eastward to Bukaua on Huon
Gulf and there lead a shadowy life very like their life on
earth. Others think that the spirits hover near the village
where they lived in the flesh. Others again are of opinion
that they transmigrate into animals and prolong their life in
one or other of the bodies of the lower creatures.<a id="footnotetag400" name="footnotetag400"></a><a href="#footnote400"><sup>400</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">The Yabim and Bukaua tribes.</p>

<p>Leaving Cape King William we pass eastward along
the coast of German New Guinea and come to Finsch
Harbour. From a point some miles to the north of Finsch
Harbour as far as Samoa Harbour on Huon Gulf the coast
is inhabited by two kindred tribes, the Yabim and the
Bukaua, who speak a Melanesian language. I shall deal first
with the Yabim tribe, whose customs and beliefs have been
described for us with a fair degree of fulness by two German
missionaries, Mr. Konrad Vetter and Mr. Heinrich Zahn.<a id="footnotetag401" name="footnotetag401"></a><a href="#footnote401"><sup>401</sup></a>
The following account is based chiefly on the writings of
Mr. Vetter, whose mission station is at the village of Simbang.</p>

<p class="side">Material and artistic culture of the Yabim.</p>

<p>Like the other natives of New Guinea the Yabim build
permanent houses, live in settled villages, and till the ground.
Every year they make a fresh clearing in the forest by
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page243" id="page243"></a>[pg 243]</span>
cutting down the trees, burning the fallen timber, and planting
taro, bananas, sugar-cane, and tobacco in the open glade.
When the crops have been reaped, the place is abandoned,
and is soon overgrown again by the rank tropical vegetation,
while the natives move on to another patch, which they clear
and cultivate in like manner. This rude mode of tillage is
commonly practised by many savages, especially within the
tropics. Cultivation of this sort is migratory, and in some
places, though apparently not in New Guinea, the people
shift their habitations with their fields as they move on from
one part of the forest to another. Among the Yabim the
labour of clearing a patch for cultivation is performed by all
the men of a village in common, but when the great trees
have fallen with a crash to the ground, and the trunks,
branches, foliage and underwood have been burnt, with a
roar of flames and a crackling like a rolling fire of musketry,
each family appropriates a portion of the clearing for its
own use and marks off its boundaries with sticks. But they
also subsist in part by fishing, and for this purpose they
build outrigger canoes. They display considerable skill and
taste in wood-carving, and are fond of ornamenting their
houses, canoes, paddles, tools, spears, and drums with figures
of crocodiles, fish, and other patterns.<a id="footnotetag402" name="footnotetag402"></a><a href="#footnote402"><sup>402</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Men's clubhouses (<i>lum</i>).</p>

<p>The villages are divided into wards, and every ward
contains its clubhouse for men, called a <i>lum</i>, in which young
men and lads are obliged to pass the night. It consists of
a bedroom above and a parlour with fireplaces below. In
the parlour the grown men pass their leisure hours during
the day, and here the councils are held. The wives cook
the food at home and bring it for their husbands to the
clubhouse. The bull-roarers which are used at the initiatory
ceremonies are kept in the principal clubhouse of the village.
Such a clubhouse serves as an asylum; men fleeing from
the avenger of blood who escape into it are safe. It is said
that the spirit (<i>balum</i>) has swallowed or concealed them.
But if they steal out of it and attempt to make their way to
another village, they carry their life in their hand.<a id="footnotetag403" name="footnotetag403"></a><a href="#footnote403"><sup>403</sup></a>
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page244" id="page244"></a>[pg 244]</span>
Among the Yabim, according to Mr. Zahn, religion in the
proper sense does not exist, but on the other hand the whole
people is dominated by the fear of witchcraft and of the spirits of
the dead.<a id="footnotetag404" name="footnotetag404"></a><a href="#footnote404"><sup>404</sup></a> The following is the account which Mr. Vetter gives of
the beliefs and customs of these people concerning the departed.</p>

<p class="side">Beliefs of the Yabim concerning the state of the dead. The
ghostly ferry.</p>

<p>They do not believe that death is the end of all things
for the individual; they think that his soul survives and
becomes a spirit or ghost, which they call a <i>balum</i>. The
life of human spirits in the other world is a shadowy continuation
of the life on earth, and as such it has little
attraction for the mind of the Papuan. Of heaven and hell,
a place of reward and a place of punishment for the souls of
the good and bad respectively, he has no idea. However,
his world of the dead is to some extent divided into compartments.
In one of them reside the ghosts of people who
have been slain, in another the ghosts of people who have
been hanged, and in a third the ghosts of people who have
been devoured by a shark or a crocodile. How many more
compartments there may be for the accommodation of the
souls, we are not told. The place is in one of the islands of
Siasi. No living man has ever set foot in the island, for
smoke and mist hang over it perpetually; but from out the
mist you may hear the sound of the barking of dogs, the
grunting of swine, and the crowing of cocks, which seems to
shew that in the opinion of these people animals have
immortal souls as well as men. The natives of the Siasi
islands say that the newly arrived ghosts may often be seen
strolling on the beach; sometimes the people can even
recognise the familiar features of friends with whom they did
business in the flesh. The mode in which the spirits of the
dead arrive at their destination from the mainland is naturally
by a ferry: indeed, the prow of the ghostly ferry-boat may
be seen to this day in the village of Bogiseng. The way in
which it came to be found there was this. A man of the
village lay dying, and on his deathbed he promised to give
his friends a sign of his continued existence after death by
appearing as a ghost in their midst. Only he stipulated
that in order to enable him to do so they would place a
stone club in the hand of his corpse. This was done. He
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page245" id="page245"></a>[pg 245]</span>
died, the club was placed in his cold hand, and his sorrowing
but hopeful relations awaited results. They had not very
long to wait. For no sooner had the ghost, armed with the
stone club, stepped down to the sea-shore than he called
imperiously for the ferry-boat. It soon hove in sight, with
the ghostly ferryman in it paddling to the beach to receive
the passenger. But when the prow grated on the pebbles,
the artful ghost, instead of stepping into it as he should
have done, lunged out at it with the stone club so forcibly
that he broke the prow clean off. In a rage the ferryman
roared out to him, "I won't put you across! You and your
people shall be kangaroos." The ghost had gained his
point. He turned back from the ferry and brought to his
friends as a trophy the prow of the ghostly canoe, which is
treasured in the village to this day. I should add that the
prow in question bears a suspicious resemblance to a powder-horn
which has been floating about for some time in the
water; but no doubt this resemblance is purely fortuitous
and without any deep significance.</p>

<p class="side">Transmigration of human souls into animals.</p>

<p>From this veracious narrative we gather that sometimes
the souls of the dead, instead of going away to the spirit-land,
transmigrate into the bodies of animals. The case of
the kangaroos is not singular. In the village of Simbang
Mr. Vetter knows two families, of whom the ghosts pass at
death into the carcases of crocodiles and a species of fabulous
pigs respectively.  Hence members of the one family are
careful not to injure crocodiles, lest the souls of their dead
should chance to be lodged in the reptiles; and the members
of the other family would be equally careful not to hurt the
fabulous pigs if ever they fell in with them. However, the
crocodile people, not to be behind their neighbours, assert
that after death their spirits can also roam about the wood
as ghosts and go to the spirit-land.  In explanation they
say that every human being has two souls; one of them is
his reflection on the water, the other is his shadow on the
land. No doubt it is the water-soul which goes to the island
of Siasi, while the land-soul is free to occupy the body of a
crocodile, a kangaroo, or some other animal.<a id="footnotetag405" name="footnotetag405"></a><a href="#footnote405"><sup>405</sup></a></p>

<span class="pagenum"><a name="page246" id="page246"></a>[pg 246]</span>

<p class="side">Return of the ghosts.</p>

<p>But even when the ghosts have departed to their island
home, they are by no means strictly confined to it. They
can return, especially at night, to roam about the woods and
the villages, and the living are very much afraid of them,
for the ghosts delight in doing mischief. It is especially in
the first few days after a death that the ghost is an object
of terror, for he is then still loitering about the village.
During these days everybody is afraid to go alone into the
forest for fear of meeting him, and if a dog or a pig strays
in the wood and is lost, the people make sure that the ghost
has made off with the animal, and the aggrieved owners
roundly abuse the sorrowing family, telling them that their
old father or mother, as the case may be, is no better than a
thief. They are also very unwilling to mention the names
of dead persons, imagining that were the ghost to hear his
name pronounced he might fancy he was being called for
and might accordingly suspend his habitual occupation of
munching sour fruits in the forest to come and trouble the
living.</p>

<p class="side">Offerings to ghosts.</p>

<p>Hence in order to keep the short-tempered ghost in
good humour by satisfying his wants, lest he should think
himself neglected and wreak his vexation on the survivors,
the people go a-fishing after a death, or they kill a pig
or a dog; sometimes also they cut down a fruit-tree.
But it is only the souls of the animals which are destined
for the consumption of the ghost; their bodies are roasted
and eaten by the living. On a grave you may sometimes
see a small basket suspended from a stick; but if you look
into it you will find nothing but a little soot and some fish
scales, which is all that remains of the fried fish.</p>

<p class="side">Ghosts provided with fire.</p>

<p>The Yabim also imagine that the ghost has need of fire
to guide him to the door of the man who has done him to
death by sorcery. Accordingly they provide the spirit with
this necessary as follows. On the evening of the day on
which the body has been buried, they kindle a fire on a
potsherd and heap dry leaves on it. As they do so they
mention the names of all the sorcerers they can think of,
and he at whose name the smouldering leaves burst into a
bright flame is the one who has done the deed. Having
thus ascertained the true cause of death, beyond reach of
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page247" id="page247"></a>[pg 247]</span>
cavil, they proceed to light up the ghost to the door of his
murderer. For this purpose a procession is formed. A
man, holding the smouldering fire in the potsherd with one
hand and a bundle of straw with the other, leads the way.
He is followed by another who draws droning notes from
a water-bottle of the deceased, which he finally smashes.
After these two march a number of young fellows who
make a plumping sound by smacking their thighs with the
hollow of their hands. This solemn procession wends its
way to a path in the neighbouring forest. By this time the
shades of night have fallen. The firebearer now sets the
fire on the ground and calls on the ghost to come and take
it. They firmly believe that he does so and that having
got it he hies away to cast the glowing embers down at the
door of the man who has done him to death. They even
fancy they see the flickering light carried by the invisible
hand retreating through the shadows into the depth of the
forest; and in order to follow it with their eyes they will
sometimes climb tall trees or launch a canoe and put out to
sea, gazing intently at the glimmering ray till it vanishes
from their sight in the darkness. Perhaps the gleam of
fire-flies, which abound in these tropical forests, or the
flashing of a meteor, as it silently drops from the starry
heaven into the sea, may serve to feed this superstitious
fancy.<a id="footnotetag406" name="footnotetag406"></a><a href="#footnote406"><sup>406</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Ghosts thought to help in the cultivation of the land.</p>

<p>But the spirits of the dead are supposed to be able to
help as well as harm the living. Good crops and a successful
hunt are attributed to their influence. It is especially the
spirits of the ancient owners of the land who are credited with
the power of promoting the growth of the crops.  Hence
when a clearing has been made in the forest and planted
with taro, and the plants are shewing a good head of leaves,
preparations are made to feast the ghosts of the people to
whom the land belonged in days gone by. For this purpose
a sago-palm is cut down, sago-porridge made, and a wild
boar killed. Then the men arrayed in all their finery march
out in solemn procession by day to the taro field; and the
leader invites the spirits in a loud voice to come to the
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page248" id="page248"></a>[pg 248]</span>
village and partake of the sago-porridge and pork that have
been made ready for them. But the invisible guests content
themselves as usual with snuffing up the fragrant smell of
the roast pork and the steam of the porridge; the substance
of these dainties is consumed by the living. Yet the help
which the ghosts give in the cultivation of the land would
seem to be conceived as a purely negative one; the offerings
are made to them for the purpose of inducing them to keep
away and not injure the growing crops. It is also believed
that the ghosts of the dead make communications to the
living in dreams or by whistling, and even that they can
bring things to their friends and relations. But on the
whole, Mr. Vetter tells us, the dominant attitude of the
living to the dead is one of fear; the power of the ghosts
is oftener exerted for evil than for good.<a id="footnotetag407" name="footnotetag407"></a><a href="#footnote407"><sup>407</sup></a> The ghost of a
murdered man in particular is dreaded, because he is believed
to haunt his murderer and to do him a mischief. Hence
they drive away such a dangerous ghost with shouts and
the beating of drums; and by way of facilitating his
departure they launch a model of a canoe, laden with taro
and tobacco, in order to transport him with all comfort to
the land of souls.<a id="footnotetag408" name="footnotetag408"></a><a href="#footnote408"><sup>408</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Burial and mourning customs among the Yabim.</p>

<p>Among the Yabim the dead are usually buried in shallow
graves close to the houses where they died. Some trifles
are laid with the body in the grave, in order that the dead
man or woman may have the use of them in the other
world.  But any valuables that may be deposited with the
corpse are afterwards dug up and appropriated by the
survivors.  If the deceased was the householder himself or
his wife, the house is almost always deserted, however solidly
it may be built. The reason for thus abandoning so valuable
a piece of property is not mentioned; but we may
assume that the motive is a fear of the ghost, who is
supposed to haunt his old home. A temporary hut is built
on the grave, and in it the family of the deceased take up
their abode for six weeks or more; here they cook, eat, and
sleep. A widower sits in a secluded corner by himself,
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page249" id="page249"></a>[pg 249]</span>
invisible to all and unwashed; during the period of full
mourning he may not shew himself in the village. When
he does come forth again, he wears a mourning hat made of
bark in the shape of a cylinder without crown or brim; a
widow wears a great ugly net, which wraps her up almost
completely from the head to the knees. Sometimes in
memory of the deceased they wear a lock of his hair or a
bracelet. Other relations wear cords round their necks in
sign of mourning. The period of mourning varies greatly;
it may last for months or even years. Sometimes the
bodies of beloved children or persons who have been much
respected are not buried but tied up in bundles and set up
in a house until the flesh has quite mouldered away; then
the skull and the bones of the arms and legs are anointed,
painted red, and preserved for a time. Mr. Vetter records
the case of a chief whose corpse was thus preserved in the
assembly-house of the village, after it had been dried over a
fire. When it had been reduced to a mummy, the skull and
the arm-bones and leg-bones were detached, oiled, and
reddened, and then kept for some years in the house of the
chief's eldest son, till finally they were deposited in the
grave of a kinsman. In some of the inland villages of this
part of New Guinea the widow is sometimes throttled by
her relations at the death of her husband, in order that she
may accompany him to the other world.<a id="footnotetag409" name="footnotetag409"></a><a href="#footnote409"><sup>409</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Deaths attributed by the Yabim to sorcery.</p>

<p>The Yabim believe that except in the case of very old
people every death is caused by sorcery; hence when anybody
has departed this life, his relations make haste to
discover the wicked sorcerer who has killed their kinsman.
For that purpose they have recourse to various forms of
divination. One of them has been already described, but
they have others. For example, they put a powder like
sulphur in a piece of bamboo tube and kindle a fire under
it. Then an old man takes a bull-roarer and taps with
it on the bamboo tube, naming all the sorcerers in the
neighbouring villages.  He at the mention of whose name
the fire catches the powder and blazes up is the guilty
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page250" id="page250"></a>[pg 250]</span>
man. Another way of detecting the culprit is to attach the
feather of a bird of paradise to a staff and give the staff to
two men to hold upright between the palms of their right
hands. Then somebody names the sorcerers, and he at
whose name the staff turns round and the feather points
downwards is the one who caused the death. When the
avengers of blood, wrought up to a high pitch of fury, fall
in with the family of the imaginary criminal, they may put
the whole of them to death lest the sons should afterwards
avenge their father's murder by the black art. Sometimes
a dangerous and dreaded sorcerer will be put out of the
way with the connivance of the chief of his own village;
and after a few days the murderers will boldly shew themselves
in the village where the crime was perpetrated and
will reassure the rest of the people, saying, "Be still. The
wicked man has been taken off. No harm will befall you."<a id="footnotetag410" name="footnotetag410"></a><a href="#footnote410"><sup>410</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Bull-roarers (<i>balum</i>). Initiation of young men.</p>

<p>It is very significant that the word <i>balum</i>, which means
a ghost, is applied by the Yabim to the instrument now
generally known among anthropologists as a bull-roarer. It
is a small fish-shaped piece of wood which, being tied to a
string and whirled rapidly round, produces a humming or
booming sound like the roaring of a bull or the muttering of
distant thunder. Instruments of this sort are employed by
savages in many parts of the world at their mysteries; the
weird sound which the implement makes when swung is
supposed by the ignorant and uninitiated to be the voice of
a spirit and serves to impress them with a sense of awe and
mystery. So it is with the Papuans about Finsch Harbour,
with whom we are at present concerned. At least one such
bull-roarer is kept in the <i>lum</i> or bachelors' clubhouse of every
village, and the women and uninitiated boys are forbidden to
see it under pain of death. The instrument plays a great
part in the initiation of young men, which takes place at
intervals of several years, when there are a number of youths
ready to be initiated, and enough pigs can be procured to
furnish forth the feasts which form an indispensable part
of the ceremony. The principal initiatory rite consists of
circumcision, which is performed on all youths before they
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page251" id="page251"></a>[pg 251]</span>
are admitted to the rank of full-grown men. The age of
the candidates varies considerably, from four years up to
twenty. Many are married before they are initiated. The
operation is performed in the forest, and the procession of
the youths to the place appointed is attended by a number
of men swinging bull-roarers. As the procession sets out,
the women look on from a distance, weeping and howling,
for they are taught to believe that the lads, their sons and
brothers, are about to be swallowed up by a monster called
a <i>balum</i> or ghost, who will only release them from his belly
on condition of receiving a sufficient number of roast pigs.
How, then, can the poor women be sure that they will ever
see their dear ones again? So amid the noise of weeping
and wailing the procession passes into the forest, and the
booming sound of the bull-roarers dies away in the
distance.</p>

<p class="side">The rite of circumcision; the lads supposed to be swallowed
by a monster (<i>balum</i>). The sacred flutes.</p>

<p>The place where the operation is performed on the lads
is a long hut, about a hundred feet in length, which
diminishes in height towards the rear. This represents the
belly of the monster which is to swallow up the candidates.
To keep up the delusion a pair of great eyes are painted
over the entrance, and above them the projecting roots of
a betel-palm represent the monster's hair, while the trunk of
the tree passes for his backbone. As the awe-struck lads
approach this imposing creature, he is heard from time to
time to utter a growl.  The growl is in fact no other than
the humming note of bull-roarers swung by men, who are
concealed within the edifice. When the procession has
come to a halt in front of the artificial monster, a loud
defiant blast blown on shell-trumpets summons him to
stand forth. The reply follows in the shape of another
muffled roar of the bull-roarers from within the building. At
the sound the men say that "Balum is coming up," and they
raise a shrill song like a scream and sacrifice pigs to the
monster in order to induce him to spare the lives of the
candidates.  When the operation has been performed on
the lads, they must remain in strict seclusion for three or
four months, avoiding all contact with women and even the
sight of them. They live in the long hut, which represents
the monster's belly, and their food is brought them by elder
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page252" id="page252"></a>[pg 252]</span>
men. Their leisure time is spent in weaving baskets and
playing on certain sacred flutes, which are never used
except at such seasons. The instruments are of two
patterns. One is called the male and the other the female,
and they are supposed to be married to each other. No
woman may see these mysterious flutes; if she did she
would die. Even if she hears their shrill note in the distance,
she will hasten to hide herself in a thicket. When the
initiatory ceremonies are over, the flutes are carefully kept
in the men's clubhouse of the village till the next time they
are wanted for a similar occasion. On the other hand, if
the women are obliged to go near the place where the lads
are living in seclusion, they beat on certain bamboo drums
in order to warn them to keep out of the way. Sometimes,
though perhaps rarely, one of the lads dies under the
operation; in that case the men explain his disappearance
to the women by saying that the monster has a pig's
stomach as well as a human stomach, and that unfortunately
the deceased young man slipped by mistake into the wrong
stomach and so perished miserably. But as a rule the
candidates pass into the right stomach and after a sufficient
period has been allowed for digestion, they come forth safe
and sound, the monster having kindly consented to let them
go free in consideration of the roast pigs which have been
offered to him by the men. Indeed he is not very
exacting, for he contents himself with devouring the souls
of the pigs, while he leaves their bodies to be consumed
by his worshippers. This is a kindly and considerate way
of dealing with sacrifice, which our New Guinea ghost or
monster shares with many deities of much higher social
pretensions. However, lest he should prove refractory and
perhaps run away with the poor young men in his inside, or
possibly make a dart at any women or children who might
be passing, the men take the precaution of tying him down
tight with ropes. When the time of seclusion is up, one of
the last acts in the long series of ceremonies is to cast off
the ropes and let the monster go free. He avails himself
of his liberty to return to his subterranean abode, and the
young men are brought back to the village with much
solemnity.</p>
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page253" id="page253"></a>[pg 253]</span>

<p class="side">The return of the novices to the village.</p>

<p>An eye-witness has described the ceremony. The lads,
now ranking as full-grown men, were first bathed in the sea
and then elaborately decorated with paint and so forth. In
marching back to the village they had to keep their eyes
tightly shut, and each of them was led by a man who acted
as a kind of god-father. As the procession moved on, an
old bald-headed man touched each boy solemnly on the
chin and brow with a bull-roarer. In the village preparations
for a banquet had meanwhile been made, and the
women and girls were waiting in festal attire. The women
were much moved at the return of the lads; they sobbed
and tears of joy ran down their cheeks. Arrived in the
village the newly-initiated lads were drawn up in a row and
fresh palm leaves were spread in front of them. Here they
stood with closed eyes, motionless as statues. Then a man
passed behind them, touching each of them in the hams
with the handle of an axe and saying, "O circumcised one,
sit down." But still the lads remained standing, stiff and
motionless. Not till another man had knocked repeatedly
on the ground with the stalk of a palm-leaf, crying,
"O circumcised ones, open your eyes!" did the youths,
one after another, open their eyes as if awaking from a
profound stupor. Then they sat down on the mats and
partook of the food brought them by the men. Young and
old now ate in the open air. Next morning the circumcised
lads were bathed in the sea and painted red instead of
white. After that they might talk to women. This was
the end of the ceremony.<a id="footnotetag411" name="footnotetag411"></a><a href="#footnote411"><sup>411</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">The essence of the initiatory rites seems to be a simulation
of death and resurrection; the novice is supposed to be killed and to
come to life or be born again. The new birth among the Akikuyu of
British East Africa.</p>

<p>The meaning of these curious ceremonies observed on
the return of the lads to the village is not explained by
the writer who describes them; but the analogy of similar
ceremonies observed at initiation by many other races
allows us to divine it with a fair degree of probability.
As I have already observed in a former lecture,
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page254" id="page254"></a>[pg 254]</span>
the ceremony of initiation at puberty is very often regarded
as a process of death and resurrection; the candidate is
supposed to die or to be killed and to come to life again or
be born again; and the pretence of a new birth is not uncommonly
kept up by the novices feigning to have forgotten
all the most common actions of life and having accordingly
to learn them all over again like newborn babes. We may
conjecture that this is why the young circumcised Papuans,
with whom we are at present concerned, march back to their
village with closed eyes; this is why, when bidden to sit
down, they remain standing stiffly, as if they understood
neither the command nor the action; and this, too, we may
surmise, is why their mothers and sisters receive them with
a burst of emotion, as if their dead had come back to them
from the grave. This interpretation of the ceremony is confirmed
by a curious rite which is observed by the Akikuyu
of British East Africa. Amongst them every boy or girl at
or about the age of ten years has solemnly to pretend to be
born again, not in a moral or religious, but in a physical
sense. The mother of the child, or, if she is dead, some
other woman, goes through an actual pantomime of bringing
forth the boy or girl. I will spare you the details of the
pantomime, which is very graphic, and will merely mention
that the bouncing infant squalls like a newborn babe.
Now this ceremony of the new birth was formerly enacted
among the Akikuyu at the rite of circumcision, though the
two ceremonies are now kept distinct.<a id="footnotetag412" name="footnotetag412"></a><a href="#footnote412"><sup>412</sup></a> Hence it is not
very rash to conjecture that the ceremony performed by the
young Papuans of Finsch Harbour on their return to the
village after undergoing circumcision is merely a way of
keeping up the pretence of being born again and of being
therefore as ignorant and helpless as babes.</p>

<p class="side">The mock death of the novices as a preliminary to the mock
birth.</p>

<p>But if the end of the initiation is a mock resurrection, or
rather new birth, as it certainly seems to be, we may infer
with some confidence that the first part of it, namely the
act of circumcision, is a mock death. This is borne out by
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page255" id="page255"></a>[pg 255]</span>
the explicit statement of a very good authority, Mr. Vetter,
that "the circumcision is designated as a process of being
swallowed by the spirit, out of whose stomach (represented
by a long hut) the release must take place by means
of a sacrifice of pigs."<a id="footnotetag413" name="footnotetag413"></a><a href="#footnote413"><sup>413</sup></a>  And it is further confirmed by the
observation that both the spirit which is supposed to operate
on the lads, and the bull-roarer, which apparently represents
his voice, are known by the name of <i>balum</i>, which means the
ghost or spirit of a dead person.  Similarly, among the
Tugeri or Kaya-Kaya, a large Papuan tribe on the south
coast of Dutch New Guinea, the name of the bull-roarer,
which they call <i>sosom</i>, is given to a mythical giant, who is
supposed to appear every year with the south-east monsoon.
When he comes, a festival is held in his honour and bull-roarers
are swung.  Boys are presented to the giant, and
he kills them, but brings them to life again.<a id="footnotetag414" name="footnotetag414"></a><a href="#footnote414"><sup>414</sup></a> Thus the
initiatory rite of circumcision, to which all lads have to submit
among the Yabim, seems to be closely bound up with
their conception of death and with their belief in a life after
death; since the whole ceremony apparently consists in a
simulation of dying and coming to life again.  That is why
I have touched upon these initiatory rites, which at first
sight might appear to have no connexion with our immediate
subject, the belief in immortality and the worship of the
dead.</p>

<p class="side">General summary as to the Yabim.</p>

<p>On the whole we may say that the Yabim have a very
firm and practical belief in a life after death, and that while
their attitude to the spirits of the departed is generally one
of fear, they nevertheless look to these spirits also for information
and help on various occasions. Thus their beliefs
and practices contain at least in germ the elements of a
worship of the dead.</p>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote394" name="footnote394"></a><b>Footnote 394:</b><a href="#footnotetag394"> (return) </a><p> Stolz, "Die Umgebung von Kap K&ouml;nig Wilhelm," in R.
Neuhauss's <i>Deutsch New-Guinea</i> (Berlin, 1911), iii. 243-286.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote395" name="footnote395"></a><b>Footnote 395:</b><a href="#footnotetag395"> (return) </a><p>Stolz, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 252-254.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote396" name="footnote396"></a><b>Footnote 396:</b><a href="#footnotetag396"> (return) </a><p>Stolz, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 245-247.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote397" name="footnote397"></a><b>Footnote 397:</b><a href="#footnotetag397"> (return) </a><p>Stolz, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 247 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote398" name="footnote398"></a><b>Footnote 398:</b><a href="#footnotetag398"> (return) </a><p>Stolz, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 248-250.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote399" name="footnote399"></a><b>Footnote 399:</b><a href="#footnotetag399"> (return) </a><p>Stolz, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 258.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote400" name="footnote400"></a><b>Footnote 400:</b><a href="#footnotetag400"> (return) </a><p>Stolz, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 259.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote401" name="footnote401"></a><b>Footnote 401:</b><a href="#footnotetag401"> (return) </a><p> K. Vetter, in <i>Komm her&uuml;ber und hilf uns! oder die
Arbeit der Neuen-Dettelsauer Mission</i>, Nos. 1-4 (Barmen, 1898);
<i>id.</i>, in <i>Nachrichten &uuml;ber Kaiser Wilhelms-Land</i>, 1897, pp.
86-102; <i>id.</i>, in <i>Mitteilungen der Geographischen
Gesellschaft zu Jena</i>, xi. (Jena, 1892) pp. 102-106; <i>id.</i>, in
<i>Mitteilungen der Geographischen Gesellschaft zu Jena</i>, xii. (Jena,
1893) pp. 95-97; H. Zahn, "Die Jabim," in R. Neuhauss's <i>Deutsch
Neu-Guinea</i>, iii (Berlin, 1911) pp. 287-394.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote402" name="footnote402"></a><b>Footnote 402:</b><a href="#footnotetag402"> (return) </a><p> K. Vetter, <i>Komm her&uuml;ber und hilf uns!</i> ii. (Barmen,
1898) pp. 6-12.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote403" name="footnote403"></a><b>Footnote 403:</b><a href="#footnotetag403"> (return) </a><p> K. Vetter, <i>op. cit.</i> ii. 8; H. Zahn, "Die Jabim,"
in R. Neuhauss's <i>Deutsch Neu-Guinea</i>, iii. 291, 308, 311.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote404" name="footnote404"></a><b>Footnote 404:</b><a href="#footnotetag404"> (return) </a><p>H. Zahn, <i>op. cit.</i> iii. 291.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote405" name="footnote405"></a><b>Footnote 405:</b><a href="#footnotetag405"> (return) </a><p> K. Vetter, <i>Komm her&uuml;ber und hilf
uns!</i> iii. 21 <i>sq.</i> According to Mr. H.
Zahn (<i>op. cit.</i> p. 324) every village has
its own entrance into the spirit-land.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote406" name="footnote406"></a><b>Footnote 406:</b><a href="#footnotetag406"> (return) </a><p> K. Vetter, <i>Komm her&uuml;ber und hilf uns!</i> iii. 19-24;
<i>id.</i>, in <i>Mitteilungen der Geographischen Gesellschaft zu
Jena</i>, xii. (1893) pp. 96 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote407" name="footnote407"></a><b>Footnote 407:</b><a href="#footnotetag407"> (return) </a><p> K. Vetter, <i>Komm her&uuml;ber und hilf uns!</i> ii. 7, iii.
24; <i>id.</i>, in <i>Nachrichten &uuml;ber Kaiser Wilhelms-Land und den
Bismarck-Archipel</i>, 1897, p. 94.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote408" name="footnote408"></a><b>Footnote 408:</b><a href="#footnotetag408"> (return) </a><p> K. Vetter, in <i>Nachrichten &uuml;ber Kaiser
Wilhelms-Land</i>, 1897, p. 94.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote409" name="footnote409"></a><b>Footnote 409:</b><a href="#footnotetag409"> (return) </a><p> K. Vetter, in <i>Nachrichten &uuml;ber Kaiser
Wilhelms-Land</i>, 1897, pp. 94 <i>sq.</i>; <i>id.</i>, <i>Komm her&uuml;ber und hilf
uns!</i> iii. 15-19. Compare H. Zahn, "Die Jabim," in R. Neuhauss's
<i>Deutsch Neu-Guinea</i>, iii. 320 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote410" name="footnote410"></a><b>Footnote 410:</b><a href="#footnotetag410"> (return) </a><p> H. Zahn, "Die Jabim," in R. Neuhauss's <i>Deutsch
Neu-Guinea</i>, iii. 318-320.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote411" name="footnote411"></a><b>Footnote 411:</b><a href="#footnotetag411"> (return) </a><p> K. Vetter, in <i>Nachrichten &uuml;ber Kaiser Wilhelms-Land
und den Bismarck-Archipel</i>, 1897, pp. 92 <i>sq.</i>; <i>id.</i>, in
<i>Mitteilungen der Geographischen Gesellschaft zu Jena</i>, xi. (1892)
p. 105; <i>id.</i>, <i>Komm her&uuml;ber und hilf uns!</i> ii. (1898) p. 18;
<i>id.</i>, cited by M. Krieger, <i>Neu-Guinea</i>, pp. 167-170; O.
Schellong, "Das Barlum (<i>sic</i>)-fest der Gegend Finsch-hafens
(Kaiserwilhelmsland), ein Beitrag zur Kenntniss der Beschneidung der
Melanesier," <i>Internationales Archiv f&uuml;r Ethnographie</i>, ii. (1889)
pp. 145-162; H. Zahn, "Die Jabim," in R. Neuhauss's <i>Deutsch
Neu-Guinea</i>, iii. 296-298.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote412" name="footnote412"></a><b>Footnote 412:</b><a href="#footnotetag412"> (return) </a><p> W. S. Routledge and K. Routledge, <i>With a Prehistoric
People, the Akikuyu of British East Africa</i> (London, 1910), pp. 151
<i>sq.</i> Compare <i>Totemism and Exogamy</i>, iv. 228; C. W. Hobley,
"Kikuyu Customs and Beliefs," <i>Journal of the Royal Anthropological
Institute</i>, xl. (1910) pp. 440 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote413" name="footnote413"></a><b>Footnote 413:</b><a href="#footnotetag413"> (return) </a><p> K. Vetter, in <i>Nachrichten &uuml;ber Kaiser Wilhelmsland und
den Bismarck-Archipel</i>, 1897, p. 93.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote414" name="footnote414"></a><b>Footnote 414:</b><a href="#footnotetag414"> (return) </a><p> R. P&ouml;ch, "Vierter Bericht &uuml;ber meine Reise nach
Neu-Guinea," <i>Sitzungsberichte der
mathematisch-naturwissenschaftlichen Klasse der Kaiserlichen Akademie
der Wissenschaften</i> (Vienna), cxv. (1906) Abteilung 1, pp. 901, 902.</p></blockquote>

<span class="pagenum"><a name="page256" id="page256"></a>[pg 256]</span>




<h2><a name="lecture-xii" id="lecture-xii"></a>LECTURE XII</h2>

<h3>THE BELIEF IN IMMORTALITY AMONG THE NATIVES
OF GERMAN NEW GUINEA (<i>continued</i>)</h3>


<p class="side">The Bukaua of German New Guinea.</p>

<p>In the last lecture I described the beliefs and practices concerning
the dead as they are to be found among the Yabim
of German New Guinea. To-day we begin with the Bukaua,
a kindred and neighbouring tribe, which occupies the coast
lands of the northern portion of Huon Gulf from Schollenbruch
Point to Samoa Harbour. The language which the
Bukaua speak belongs, like the language of the Yabim, to
the Melanesian, not to the Papuan family. Their customs
and beliefs have been reported by a German missionary, Mr.
Stefan Lehner, whose account I follow.<a id="footnotetag415" name="footnotetag415"></a><a href="#footnote415"><sup>415</sup></a> In many respects
they closely resemble those of their neighbours the Yabim.</p>

<p class="side">Means of subsistence of the Bukaua. Men's clubhouses.</p>

<p>The Bukaua are an agricultural people who subsist
mainly on the crops of taro which they raise. But they
also cultivate many kinds of bananas and vegetables,
together with sugar-cane, sago, and tobacco. From time to
time they cut down and burn the forest in order to obtain
fresh fields for cultivation. The land is not held in common.
Each family has its own fields and patches of forest, and
would resent the intrusion of others on their hereditary
domain. Hunting and fishing supply them with animal food
to eke out the vegetable nourishment which they draw from
their fields and plantations.<a id="footnotetag416" name="footnotetag416"></a><a href="#footnote416"><sup>416</sup></a> Every village contains one or
more of the men's clubhouses which are a common feature
in the social life of the tribes on this coast. In these clubhouses
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page257" id="page257"></a>[pg 257]</span>
the young men are obliged to sleep, and on the platforms
in front of them the older men hold their councils.
Such a clubhouse is called a <i>lum</i>.<a id="footnotetag417" name="footnotetag417"></a><a href="#footnote417"><sup>417</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Beliefs of the Bukaua concerning the souls of the dead.
Sickness and disease attributed to ghostly agency.</p>

<p>The Bukaua have a firm belief in the existence of the
human soul after death. They think that a man's soul can
even quit his body temporarily in his lifetime during sleep
or a swoon, and that in its disembodied state it can appear
to people at a distance; but such apparitions are regarded
as omens of approaching death, when the soul will depart
for good and all. The soul of a dead man is called a <i>balum</i>.
The spirits of the departed are believed to be generally mischievous
and spiteful to the living, but they can be appeased
by sacrifice, and other measures can be taken to avert their
dangerous influence.<a id="footnotetag418" name="footnotetag418"></a><a href="#footnote418"><sup>418</sup></a> They are very touchy, and if they
imagine that they are not honoured enough by their kinsfolk,
and that the offerings made to them are insufficient,
they will avenge the slight by visiting their disrespectful and
stingy relatives with sickness and disease. Among the
maladies which the natives ascribe to the anger of ghosts
are epilepsy, fainting fits, and wasting decline.<a id="footnotetag419" name="footnotetag419"></a><a href="#footnote419"><sup>419</sup></a> When a
man suffers from a sore which he believes to have been
inflicted on him by a ghost, he will take a stone from the
fence of the grave and heat it in the fire, saying: "Father,
see, thou hast gone, I am left, I must till the land in thy
stead and care for my brothers and sisters. Do me good
again." Then he dips the hot stone in a puddle on the
grave, and holds his sore in the steam which rises from it.
His pain is eased thereby and he explains the alleviation
which he feels by saying, "The spirit of the dead man has
eaten up the wound."<a id="footnotetag420" name="footnotetag420"></a><a href="#footnote420"><sup>420</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Sickness and death often ascribed by the Bukaua to sorcery.</p>

<p>But like most savages the Bukaua attribute many illnesses
and many deaths not to the wrath of ghosts but to
the malignant arts of sorcerers; and in such cases they
usually endeavour by means of divination to ascertain the
culprit and to avenge the death of their friend by taking
the life of his imaginary murderer.<a id="footnotetag421" name="footnotetag421"></a><a href="#footnote421"><sup>421</sup></a> If they fail to exact
vengeance, the ghost is believed to be very angry, and they
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page258" id="page258"></a>[pg 258]</span>
must be on their guard against him. He may meet them
anywhere, but is especially apt to dog the footsteps of the
sorcerer who killed him. Hence when on the occasion of a
great feast the sorcerer comes to the village of his victim,
the surviving relatives of the dead man are at particular
pains to protect themselves and their property against the
insidious attacks of the prowling ghost. For this purpose
they bury a creeper with white blossoms in the path leading
to the village; the ghost is thought to be filled with fear at
the sight of it and to turn back, leaving his kinsfolk, their
dogs, and pigs in peace.<a id="footnotetag422" name="footnotetag422"></a><a href="#footnote422"><sup>422</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Fear of the ghosts of the slain.</p>

<p>Another class of ghosts who are much dreaded are the
spirits of slain foes. They are believed to pursue their
slayers to the village and to blind them so that sooner or
later they fall an easy prey to their enemies. Hence when
a party of warriors has returned home from a successful
attack on a village, in which they have butchered all on
whom they could lay their hands, they kindle a great fire,
dance wildly about it, and hurl burning brands in the direction
of the battlefield in order to keep the ghosts of their
slaughtered foes at bay. Phosphorescent lights seen under
the houses throw the inmates into great alarm, for they
are thought to be the souls of the slain. Sometimes the
vanquished in battle resort to a curious ruse for the purpose
of avenging themselves on the victors by means of a
ghost. They take the sleeping-mat of one of the slain, roll
it up in a bundle along with his loin-cloth, apron, netted
bag, or head-rest, and give the bundle to two cripples to
carry. Then they steal quietly to the landing-place of
their foes, peering warily about lest they should be observed.
The bundle represents the dead man, and the cripples who
carry it reel to and fro, and finally sink to the ground with
their burden. In this way the ghost of the victim, whose
things are carried in the bundle, is supposed to make their
enemies weak and tottery. Strong young men are not
given the bundle to carry, lest the ghost should spoil their
manly figures; whereas if he should wound or maim a
couple of poor cripples, no great harm is done.<a id="footnotetag423" name="footnotetag423"></a><a href="#footnote423"><sup>423</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Ghosts of ancestors appealed to for help, especially in the
cultivation of the ground. First-fruits offered to the spirits of the
dead.</p>

<p>However, the Bukaua also look on the ghosts of their
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page259" id="page259"></a>[pg 259]</span>
ancestors in a more amiable light as beings who, if properly
appealed to, can and will help them in the affairs of life,
especially by procuring for them good crops.  Hence when
they are planting their fields, which are formed in clearings
of the forest, they take particular care to insert shoots of
all their crops in the ground near the tree stumps which
remain standing, because the souls of their dead grandfathers
and great-grandfathers are believed to be sitting on the
stumps watching their descendants at their work.  Accordingly
in the act of planting they call out the names of
these forefathers and pray them to guard the field in order
that their living children may have food and not suffer
from hunger. And at harvest, when the first-fruits of the
taro, bananas, sugar-cane, and so forth have been brought
back from the fields, a portion of them is offered in a bowl
to the spirits of the forefathers in the house of the landowner,
and the spirits are addressed in prayer as follows: "O ye
who have guarded our field as we prayed you to do, there
is something for you; now and henceforth behold us with
favour." While the family are feasting on the rest of the
first-fruits, the householder will surreptitiously stir the
offerings in the bowl with his finger, and will then shew
the bowl to the others as a proof that the souls of the dead
have really partaken of the good things provided for them.<a id="footnotetag424" name="footnotetag424"></a><a href="#footnote424"><sup>424</sup></a>
A hunter will also pray to his dead father to drive the
wild pigs into his net.<a id="footnotetag425" name="footnotetag425"></a><a href="#footnote425"><sup>425</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Burial and mourning customs of the Bukaua.</p>

<p>The Bukaua bury their dead in shallow graves, which
are sometimes dug under the houses but more usually in front
of or beside them. Along with the corpses are deposited bags
of taro, nuts, drinking-vessels, and other articles of daily use.
Only the stone axes are too valuable to be thus sacrificed.
Over the grave is erected a rude hut in which the widower,
if the deceased was a married woman, remains for a time
in seclusion.  A widow on the death of her husband
remains in the house. Widow and widower may not shew
themselves in public until they have prepared their mourning
costume. The widower wears a black hat made of bark,
cords round his neck, wicker work on his arms and feet, and
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page260" id="page260"></a>[pg 260]</span>
a torn old bracelet of his wife in a bag on his breast. A
widow is completely swathed in nets, one over the other,
and she carries about with her the loincloth of her deceased
husband. The souls of the dead dwell in a subterranean
region called <i>lamboam</i>, and their life there seems to resemble
life here on earth; but the ideas of the people on the
subject are very vague.<a id="footnotetag426" name="footnotetag426"></a><a href="#footnote426"><sup>426</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Initiation of young men among the Bukaua. Lads at
circumcision supposed to be swallowed by a monster.</p>

<p>The customs and beliefs of the Bukaua in regard to
the initiation of young men are practically identical with
those of their neighbours the Yabim. Indeed the initiatory
ceremonies are performed by the tribes jointly, now in the
territory of the Bukaua, now in the territory of the Yabim,
or in the land of the Kai, a tribe of mountaineers, or again
in the neighbouring Tami islands. The intervals between
the ceremonies vary from ten to eighteen years.<a id="footnotetag427" name="footnotetag427"></a><a href="#footnote427"><sup>427</sup></a> The central
feature of the initiatory rites is the circumcision of the novices.
It is given out that the lads are swallowed by a ferocious
monster called a <i>balum</i>, who, however, is induced by the
sacrifice of many pigs to vomit them up again. In spewing
them out of his maw he bites or scratches them, and the
wound so inflicted is circumcision. This explanation of the
rite is fobbed off on the women, who more or less believe it
and weep accordingly when their sons are led away to be
committed to the monster's jaws. And when the time for
the ceremony is approaching, the fond mothers busy themselves
with rearing and fattening young pigs, so that they
may be able with them to redeem their loved ones from the
belly of the ravenous beast; for he must have a pig for
every boy. When a lad bleeds to death from the effect of
the operation, he is secretly buried, and his sorrowful mother
is told that the monster swallowed him and refused to bring
him up again. What really happens is that the youths are
shut up for several months in a house specially built for the
purpose in the village. During their seclusion they are
under the charge of guardians, usually two young men, and
must observe strictly a rule of fasting and chastity. When
they are judged to be ready to undergo the rite, they are
led forth and circumcised in front of the house amid a
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page261" id="page261"></a>[pg 261]</span>
prodigious uproar made by the swinging of bull-roarers.
The noise is supposed to be the voice of the monster who
swallows and vomits up the novice at circumcision. The
bull-roarer as well as the monster bears the name of <i>balum</i>,
and the building in which the novices are lodged before and
after the operation is called the monster's house (<i>balumslum</i>).
After they have been circumcised the lads remain in the
house for several months till their wounds are healed; then,
painted and bedizened with all the ornaments that can be
collected, they are brought back and restored to their joyful
mothers. Women must vacate the village for a long time
while the initiatory ceremonies are being performed.<a id="footnotetag428" name="footnotetag428"></a><a href="#footnote428"><sup>428</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Novices at circumcision supposed to be killed and then
restored to a new and higher life.</p>

<p>The meaning of the whole rite, as I pointed out in
dealing with the similar initiatory rite of the Yabim, appears
to be that the novices are killed and then restored to a new
and better life; for after their initiation they rank no longer
as boys but as full-grown men, entitled to all the privileges
of manhood and citizenship, if we can speak of such a thing
as citizenship among the savages of New Guinea. This
interpretation of the rite is supported by the notable fact
that the Bukaua, like the Yabim, give the name of <i>balum</i>
to the souls of the dead as well as to the mythical monster
and to the bull-roarer; this shews how intimately the three
things are associated in their minds. Indeed not only is
the bull-roarer in general associated with the souls of the
dead by a community of name, but among the Bukaua
each particular bull-roarer bears in addition the name of a
particular dead man and varies in dignity and importance
with the dignity and importance of the deceased person
whom it represents. The most venerated of all are
curiously carved and have been handed down for generations;
they bear the names of famous warriors or magicians
of old and are supposed to reproduce the personal
peculiarities of the celebrated originals in their shape and
tones. And there are smaller bull-roarers which emit
shriller notes and are thought to represent the shrill-voiced
wives of the ancient heroes.<a id="footnotetag429" name="footnotetag429"></a><a href="#footnote429"><sup>429</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">The Kai tribe of Saddle Mountain in German New Guinea. The
land of the Kai. Their mode of cultivation. Their villages.</p>

<p>The Bukaua and the Yabim, the two tribes with which
I have been dealing in this and the last lecture, inhabit, as
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page262" id="page262"></a>[pg 262]</span>
I have said, the coast about Finsch Harbour and speak a
Melanesian language.  We now pass from them to the
consideration of another people, belonging to a different
stock and speaking a different language, who inhabit the
rugged and densely wooded mountains inland from Finsch
Harbour. Their neighbours on the coast call these
mountaineers by the name of Kai, a word which signifies
forest or inland in opposition to the seashore; and this
name of the tribe we may adopt, following the example of
a German missionary, Mr. Ch. Keysser, who has laboured
among them for more than eleven years and has given us
an excellent description of their customs and beliefs. His
account applies particularly to the natives of what is called
Saddle Mountain, the part of the range which advances
nearest to the coast and rises to the height of about three
thousand feet. It is a rough, broken country, cleft by many
ravines and covered with forest, bush, or bamboo thickets;
though here and there at rare intervals some brown patches
mark the clearings which the sparse inhabitants have made
for the purpose of cultivation. Water is plentiful. Springs
gush forth everywhere in the glens and valleys, and rushing
streams of crystal-clear water pour down the mountain sides,
and in the clefts of the hills are lonely tarns, the undisturbed
haunts of wild ducks and other water fowl. During the
wet season, which extends from June to August, the rain
descends in sheets and the mountains are sometimes covered
for weeks together with so thick a mist that all prospect is
cut off at the distance of a hundred yards. The natives
are then loth to leave their huts and will spend the day
crouching over a fire. They are a shorter and sturdier race
than the tribes on the coast; the expression of their face
is less frank and agreeable, and their persons are very much
dirtier. They belong to the aboriginal Papuan stock,
whereas the Yabim and Bukaua on the coast are probably
immigrants from beyond the sea, who have driven the
indigenous population back into the mountains.<a id="footnotetag430" name="footnotetag430"></a><a href="#footnote430"><sup>430</sup></a> Their
staple foods are taro and yams, which they grow in their
fields. A field is cultivated for only one year at a time;
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page263" id="page263"></a>[pg 263]</span>
it is then allowed to lie fallow and is soon overgrown with
rank underwood. Six or eight years may elapse before
it is again cleared and brought under cultivation. Game
and fish abound in the woods and waters, and the Kai
make free use of these natural resources. They keep pigs
and dogs, and eat the flesh of both. Pork is indeed a
favourite viand, figuring largely in the banquets which are
held at the circumcision festivals.<a id="footnotetag431" name="footnotetag431"></a><a href="#footnote431"><sup>431</sup></a> The people live in small
villages, each village comprising from two to six houses.
The houses are raised on piles and the walls are usually
constructed of pandanus leaves, though many natives now
make them of boards. After eighteen months or two years
the houses are so rotten and tumble-down that the village
is deserted and a new one built on another site. Assembly-houses
are erected only for the circumcision ceremonies, and
the bull-roarers used on these occasions are kept in them.
Husband and wife live together, often two couples in one
hut; but each family has its own side of the house and
its own fireplace. In times of insecurity the Kai used to
build their huts for safety among the spreading boughs
of great trees. A whole village, consisting of three or
four huts, might thus be quartered on a single tree. Of
late years, with the peace and protection for life introduced
by German rule, these tree-houses have gone out of
fashion.<a id="footnotetag432" name="footnotetag432"></a><a href="#footnote432"><sup>432</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Observations of a German missionary on the animistic beliefs
of the Kai.</p>

<p>After describing the manners and customs of the Kai
people at some length, the German missionary, who knows
them intimately, proceeds to give us a very valuable account
of their old native religion or superstition. He prefaces his
account with some observations, the fruit of long experience,
which deserve to be laid to heart by all who attempt to
penetrate into the inner life, the thoughts, the feelings, the
motives of savages. As his remarks are very germane to
the subject of these lectures, I will translate them. He
says: "In the preceding chapters I have sketched the
daily life of the Kai people. But I have not attempted to
set forth the reasons for their conduct, which is often very
peculiar and unintelligible. The explanation of that conduct
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page264" id="page264"></a>[pg 264]</span>
lies in the animistic view which the Papuan takes of the
world. It must be most emphatically affirmed that nobody
can judge the native aright who has not gained an insight
into what we may call his religious opinions. The native
must be described as very religious, although his ideas do
not coincide with ours. His feelings, thoughts, and will
are most intimately connected with his belief in souls. With
that belief he is born, he has sucked it in with his mother's
milk, and from the standpoint of that belief he regards the
things and occurrences that meet him in life; by that belief
he regulates his behaviour. An objective way of looking
at events is unknown to him; everything is brought by him
into relation to his belief, and by it he seeks to explain
everything that to him seems strange and rare."<a id="footnotetag433" name="footnotetag433"></a><a href="#footnote433"><sup>433</sup></a> "The
labyrinth of animistic customs at first sight presents an
appearance of wild confusion to him who seeks to penetrate
into them and reduce them to order; but on closer inspection
he will soon recognise certain guiding lines. These
guiding lines are the laws of animism, which have passed
into the flesh and blood of the Papuan and influence his
thought and speech, his acts and his omissions, his love and
hate, in short his whole life and death. When once we have
discovered these laws, the whole of the superstitious nonsense
falls into an orderly system which compels us to regard it
with a certain respect that increases in proportion to the
contempt in which we had previously held the people. We
need not wonder, moreover, that the laws of animism partially
correspond to general laws of nature."<a id="footnotetag434" name="footnotetag434"></a><a href="#footnote434"><sup>434</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">The essential rationality of the savage.</p>

<p>Thus according to Mr. Keysser, who has no theory to
maintain and merely gives us in this passage the result of
long personal observation, the Kai savages are thinking,
reasoning men, whose conduct, however strange and at first
sight unintelligible it may appear to us, is really based on
a definite religious or if you please superstitious view of
the world. It is true that their theory as well as their
practice differs widely from ours; but it would be false and
unjust to deny that they have a theory and that on the
whole their practice squares with it. Similar testimony is
borne to other savage races by men who have lived long
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page265" id="page265"></a>[pg 265]</span>
among them and observed them closely;<a id="footnotetag435" name="footnotetag435"></a><a href="#footnote435"><sup>435</sup></a> and on the
strength of such testimony I think we may lay it down as
a well-established truth that savages in general, so far as
they are known to us, have certain more or less definite
theories, whether we call them religious or philosophical, by
which they regulate their conduct, and judged by which
their acts, however absurd they may seem to the civilised
man, are really both rational and intelligible. Hence it is,
in my opinion, a profound mistake hastily to conclude that
because the behaviour of the savage does not agree with
our notions of what is reasonable, natural, and proper, it
must therefore necessarily be illogical, the result of blind
impulse rather than of deliberate thought and calculation.
No doubt the savage like the civilised man does often act
purely on impulse; his passions overmaster his reason, and
sweep it away before them. He is probably indeed much
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page266" id="page266"></a>[pg 266]</span>
more impulsive, much more liable to be whirled about by
gusts of emotion than we are; yet it would be unfair to
judge his life as a whole by these occasional outbursts rather
than by its general tenour, which to those who know him
from long observation reveals a groundwork of logic and
reason resembling our own in its operations, though differing
from ours in the premises from which it sets out. I think
it desirable to emphasise the rational basis of savage life
because it has been the fashion of late years with some
writers to question or rather deny it. According to them,
if I understand them aright, the savage acts first and invents
his reasons, generally very absurd reasons, for so doing
afterwards. Significantly enough, the writers who argue in
favour of the essential irrationality of savage conduct have
none of them, I believe, any personal acquaintance with
savages. Their conclusions are based not on observation
but on purely theoretical deductions, a most precarious
foundation on which to erect a science of man or indeed
of anything. As such, they cannot be weighed in the
balance against the positive testimony of many witnesses
who have lived for years with the savage and affirm
emphatically the logical basis which underlies and explains
his seeming vagaries. At all events I for one have no
hesitation in accepting the evidence of such men to matters
of fact with which they are acquainted, and I unhesitatingly
reject all theories which directly contradict that evidence.
If there ever has been any race of men who invariably
acted first and thought afterwards, I can only say that in
the course of my reading and observation I have never met
with any trace of them, and I am apt to suppose that, if
they ever existed anywhere but in the imagination of bookish
dreamers, their career must have been an exceedingly short
one, since in the struggle for existence they would surely
succumb to adversaries who tempered and directed the blind
fury of combat with at least a modicum of reason and sense.
The myth of the illogical or prelogical savage may safely be
relegated to that museum of learned absurdities and abortions
which speculative anthropology is constantly enriching with
fresh specimens of misapplied ingenuity and wasted industry.
But enough of these fantasies. Let us return to facts.</p>

<span class="pagenum"><a name="page267" id="page267"></a>[pg 267]</span>

<p class="side">The Kai theory of the soul.</p>

<p>The life of the Kai people, according to Mr. Keysser, is
dominated by their conception of the soul. That conception
differs greatly from and is very much more extensive
than ours. The Kai regards his reflection and
his shadow as his soul or parts of it; hence you should not
tread on a man's shadow for fear of injuring his soul. The
soul likewise dwells in his heart, for he feels it beating.
Hence if you give a native a friendly poke in the ribs, he
protests, saying, "Don't poke me so; you might drive my
soul out of my body, and then I should die." The soul
moreover resides in the eye, where you may see it twinkling;
when it departs, the eye grows dim and vacant. Moreover,
the soul is in the foot as much as in the head; it lurks even
in the spittle and the other bodily excretions. The soul in
fact pervades the body just as warmth does; everything
that a man touches he infects, so to say, with his soul;
that mysterious entity exists in the very sound of his voice.
The sorcerer catches a man's soul by his magic, shuts it
up tight, and destroys it. Then the man dies. He dies
because the sorcerer has killed his soul. Yet the Kai
believes, whether consistently or not, that the soul of the
dead man continues to live. He talks to it, he makes
offerings to it, he seeks to win its favour in order that he
may have luck in the chase; he fears its ill-will and anger;
he gives it food to eat, liquor to drink, tobacco to smoke, and
betel to chew. What could a reasonable ghost ask for more?<a id="footnotetag436" name="footnotetag436"></a><a href="#footnote436"><sup>436</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Two kinds of human souls.</p>

<p>Thus, according to Mr. Keysser, whose exposition I
am simply reproducing, the Kai believes not in one nor yet
in many souls belonging to each individual; he implicitly
assumes that there are two different kinds of souls. One
of these is the soul which survives the body at death; in all
respects it resembles the man himself as he lived on earth,
except that it has no body. It is not indeed absolutely
incorporeal, but it is greatly shrunken and attenuated by
death. That is why the souls of the dead are so angry
with the living; they repine at their own degraded condition;
they envy the full-blooded life which the living enjoy and
which the dead have lost. The second kind of soul is
distinguished by Mr. Keysser from the former as a spiritual
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page268" id="page268"></a>[pg 268]</span>
essence or soul-stuff, which pervades the body as sap
pervades the tree, and which diffuses itself like corporeal
warmth over everything with which the body is brought
into contact.<a id="footnotetag437" name="footnotetag437"></a><a href="#footnote437"><sup>437</sup></a> In these lectures we are concerned chiefly
with the former kind of soul, which is believed to survive
the death of the body, and which answers much more
nearly than the second to the popular European conception
of the soul. Accordingly in what follows we shall confine
our attention mainly to it.</p>

<p class="side">Death thought by the Kai to be commonly caused by sorcery.</p>

<p>Like many other savages, the Kai do not believe in the
possibility of a natural death; they think that everybody
dies through the maleficent arts of sorcerers or ghosts.
Even in the case of old people, we are told, they assume
the cause of death to be sorcery, and to sorcery all misfortunes
are ascribed. If a man falls on the path and
wounds himself to death, as often happens, on the jagged
stump of a bamboo, the natives conclude that he was
bewitched. The way in which the sorcerer brought about
the catastrophe was this. He obtained some object which
was infected with the soul-stuff or spiritual essence of his
victim; he stuck a pile in the ground, he spread the soul-stuff
on the pile; then he pretended to wound himself on
the pile and to groan with pain. Anybody can see for
himself that by a natural and necessary concatenation of
causes this compelled the poor fellow to stumble over that
jagged bamboo stump and to perish miserably. Again,
take the case of a hunter in the forest who is charged and
ripped up by a wild boar. On a superficial view of the
circumstances it might perhaps occur to you that the cause
of death was the boar. But you would assuredly be
mistaken. The real cause of death was again a sorcerer,
who pounded up the soul-stuff of his victim with a boar's
tooth. Again, suppose that a man is bitten by a serpent
and dies. A shallow rationalist might say that the man
died of the bite; but the Kai knows better. He is aware
that what really killed him was the sorcerer who took a
pinch of his victim's soul and bunged it up tight in a tube
along with the sting of a snake. Similarly, if a woman
dies in childbed, or if a man hangs himself, the cause of
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page269" id="page269"></a>[pg 269]</span>
death is still a sorcerer operating with the appropriate
means and gestures. Thus to make a man hang himself
all that the sorcerer has to do is to get a scrap of his
victim's soul&mdash;and the smallest scrap is quite enough for
his purpose, it may be a mere shred or speck of soul
adhering to a hair of the man's head, to a drop of his sweat,
or to a crumb of his food,&mdash;I say that the sorcerer need only
obtain a tiny little bit of his victim's soul, clap it in a tube,
set the tube dangling at the end of a string, and go through
a pantomime of gurgling, goggling and so forth, like a man
in the last stage of strangulation, and his victim is thereby
physically compelled to put his neck in the noose and hang
himself in good earnest.<a id="footnotetag438" name="footnotetag438"></a><a href="#footnote438"><sup>438</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Danger incurred by the sorcerer.</p>

<p>Where these views of sorcery prevail, it is no wonder
that the sorcerer is an unpopular character. He naturally
therefore shrinks from publicity and hides his somewhat
lurid light under a bushel. Not to put too fine a point on
it, he carries his life in his hand and may be knocked on
the head at any moment without the tedious formality of a
trial. Once his professional reputation is established, all
the deaths in the neighbourhood may be set down at his
door.  If he gets wind of a plot to assassinate him, he
may stave off his doom for a while by soothing the angry
passions of his enemies with presents, but sooner or later his
fate is sealed.<a id="footnotetag439" name="footnotetag439"></a><a href="#footnote439"><sup>439</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Many hurts and maladies attributed by the Kai to the action
of ghosts. In other cases the sickness is traced to witchcraft.
Capturing a lost soul.</p>

<p>However, the Kai savage is far from attributing all
deaths without distinction to sorcerers.<a id="footnotetag440" name="footnotetag440"></a><a href="#footnote440"><sup>440</sup></a> In many hurts
and maladies he detects the cold clammy hand of a ghost.
If a man, for example, wounds himself in the forest, perhaps
in the pursuit of a wild beast, he may imagine that he has
been speared or clubbed by a malignant ghost. And when
a person falls ill, the first thing to do is naturally to
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page270" id="page270"></a>[pg 270]</span>
ascertain the cause of the illness in order that it may be
treated properly. In all such enquiries, Mr. Keysser tells
us, suspicion first falls on the ghosts; they are looked upon
as even worse than the sorcerers.<a id="footnotetag441" name="footnotetag441"></a><a href="#footnote441"><sup>441</sup></a> So when a doctor is
called in to see a patient, the only question with him is
whether the sickness is caused by a sorcerer or a ghost. To
decide this nice point he takes a boiled taro over which he
has pronounced a charm. This he bites, and if he finds a
small stone in the fruit, he decides that ghosts are the cause
of the malady; but if on the other hand he detects a minute
roll of leaves, he knows that the sufferer is bewitched. In the
latter case the obvious remedy is to discover the sorcerer
and to induce him, for an adequate consideration, to give up
the magic tube in which he has bottled up a portion of
the sick man's soul. If, however, the magician turns a deaf
ear alike to the voice of pity and the allurement of gain,
the resources of the physician are not yet exhausted. He
now produces his whip or scourge for souls. This valuable
instrument consists, like a common whip, of a handle with a
lash attached to it, but what gives it the peculiar qualities
which distinguish it from all other whips is a small packet
tied to the end of the lash. The packet contains a certain
herb, and the sick man and his friends must all touch it in
order to impregnate it with the volatile essence of their
souls. Armed with this potent implement the doctor goes
by night into the depth of the forest; for the darkness of
night and the solitude of the woods are necessary for the
success of the delicate operation which this good physician
of souls has now to perform. Finding himself alone he
whistles for the lost soul of the sufferer, and if only the
sorcerer by his infernal craft has not yet brought it to
death's door, the soul appears at the sound of the whistle;
for it is strongly attracted by the soul-stuff of its friends in
the packet. But the doctor has still to catch it, a feat
which is not so easily accomplished as might be supposed.
It is now that the whip of souls comes into play. Suddenly
the doctor heaves up his arm and lashes out at the truant
soul with all his might. If only he hits it, the business is
done, the soul is captured, the doctor carries it back to the
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page271" id="page271"></a>[pg 271]</span>
house in triumph, and restores it to the body of the poor
sick man, who necessarily recovers.<a id="footnotetag442" name="footnotetag442"></a><a href="#footnote442"><sup>442</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Extracting ghosts from a sick man.</p>

<p>But suppose that the result of the diagnosis is different,
and that on mature consideration the doctor should decide
that a ghost and not a sorcerer is at the bottom of the
mischief. The question then naturally arises whether the
sick man has not of late been straying on haunted ground
and infected himself with the very dangerous soul-stuff or
spiritual essence of the dead. If he remembers to have done
so, some leaves are fetched from the place in the forest where
the mishap occurred, and with them the whole body of the
sufferer or the wound, as the case may be, is stroked or
brushed down. The healing virtue of this procedure is
obvious. The ghosts who are vexing the patient are
attracted by the familiar smell of the leaves which come
from their old home; and yielding in a moment of weakness
to the soft emotions excited by the perfume they creep out
of the body of the sick man and into the leaves. Quick as
thought the doctor now whisks the leaves away with the
ghosts in them; he belabours them with a cudgel, he hangs
them up in the smoke, or he throws them into the fire.
Such powerful disinfectants have their natural results; if the
ghosts are not absolutely destroyed they are at least disarmed,
and the sick is made whole.</p>

<p class="side">Scraping ghosts from the patient's body.</p>

<p>Another equally effective cure for sickness caused by
ghosts is this. You take a stout stick, cleave it down the
middle so that the two ends remain entire, and give it to
two men to hold. Then the sick man pokes his head
through the cleft; after that you rub him with the stick
from the crown of his head to the soles of his feet. In this
way you obviously scrape off the bloodsucking ghosts who
are clinging like flies or mosquitoes to his person, and having
thus transferred them to the cleft stick you throw it away or
otherwise destroy it. The cure is now complete, and if the
patient does not recover, he cannot reasonably blame the
doctor, who has done all that humanly speaking could be
done to bring back the bloom of health to the poor sick man.<a id="footnotetag443" name="footnotetag443"></a><a href="#footnote443"><sup>443</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Extravagant demonstrations of grief at the death of a sick
man.</p>

<p>If, however, the sick man obstinately persists in dying,
there is a great uproar in the village. For the fear of his
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page272" id="page272"></a>[pg 272]</span>
ghost has now fallen like a thunderclap on all the people.
His disembodied spirit is believed to be hovering in the air,
seeing everything that is done, hearing every word that is
spoken, and woe to the unlucky wight who does not display
a proper degree of sorrow for the irreparable loss that has
just befallen the community. Accordingly shrieks of despair
begin to resound, and crocodile tears to flow in cataracts.
The whole population assemble and give themselves up to
the most frantic demonstrations of grief. Cries are raised
on all sides, "Why must he die?" "Wherefore did they
bewitch him?" "Those wicked, wicked men!" "I'll do
for them!" "I'll hew them in pieces!" "I'll destroy their
crops!" "I'll fell all their palm-trees!" "I'll stick all
their pigs!" "O brother, why did you leave me?" "O
friend, how can I live without you?" To make good these
threats one man will be seen prancing wildly about and
stabbing with a spear at the invisible sorcerers; another
catches up a cudgel and at one blow shivers a water-pot
of the deceased into atoms, or rushes out like one demented
and lays a palm-tree level with the ground. Some fling
themselves prostrate beside the corpse and sob as if
their very hearts would break. They take the dead man
by the hand, they stroke him, they straighten out the
poor feet which are already growing cold. They coo to
him softly, they lift up the languid head, and then lay it
gently down. Then in a frenzy of grief one of them will
leap to his feet, shriek, bellow, stamp on the floor, grapple
with the roof beams, shake the walls, as if he would pull the
house down, and finally hurl himself on the ground and roll
over and over howling as if his distress was more than he could
endure. Another looks wildly about him. He sees a knife.
He grasps it. His teeth are set, his mind is made up.
"Why need he die?" he cries, "he, my friend, with whom
I had all things in common, with whom I ate out of the
same dish?" Then there is a quick movement of the knife,
and down he falls. But he is not dead. He has only slit
the flap of one of his ears, and the trickling blood bedabbles
his body. Meantime with the hoarse cries of the men are
mingled the weeping and wailing, the shrill screams and
lamentations of the women; while above all the din and
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page273" id="page273"></a>[pg 273]</span>
uproar rises the booming sound of the shell trumpets blown
to carry the tidings of death to all the villages in the
neighbourhood. But gradually the wild tumult dies away
into silence. Grief or the simulation of it has exhausted
itself: the people grow calm; they sit down, they smoke or
chew betel, while some engage in the last offices of attention
to the dead.<a id="footnotetag444" name="footnotetag444"></a><a href="#footnote444"><sup>444</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Hypocritical character of these demonstrations, which are
intended to deceive the ghost.</p>

<p>A civilised observer who witnessed such a scene of
boisterous lamentation, but did not know the natives well,
might naturally set down all these frantic outbursts to
genuine sorrow, and might enlarge accordingly on the
affectionate nature of savages, who are thus cut to the heart
by the death of any one of their acquaintance. But the
missionary who knows them better assures us that most of
these expressions of mourning and despair are a mere
blind to deceive and soothe the dreaded ghost of the
deceased into a comfortable persuasion that he is fondly
loved and sadly missed by his surviving relatives and friends.
This view of the essential hypocrisy of the lamentations is
strongly confirmed by the threats which sick people will
sometimes utter to their attendants. "If you don't take
better care of me," a man will sometimes say, "and if you
don't do everything you possibly can to preserve my valuable
life, my ghost will serve you out." That is why friends
and relations are so punctilious in paying visits of respect
and condolence to the sick.  Sometimes the last request
which a dying man addresses to his kinsfolk is that they
will kill this or that sorcerer who has killed him; and
he enforces the injunction by threats of the terrible
things he will do to them in his disembodied state if they
fail to avenge his death on his imaginary murderer. As
all the relatives of a dead man stand in fear of his ghost,
the body may not be buried until all of them have had an
opportunity of paying their respects to it.  If, as sometimes
happens, a corpse is interred before a relative can arrive
from a distance, he will on arrival break out into reproaches
and upbraidings against the grave-diggers for exposing him
to the wrath of the departed spirit.<a id="footnotetag445" name="footnotetag445"></a><a href="#footnote445"><sup>445</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Burial and mourning customs of the Kai. Preservation of the
lower jawbone.</p>

<p>When all the relations and friends have assembled and
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page274" id="page274"></a>[pg 274]</span>
testified their sorrow, the body is buried on the second or
third day after death. The grave is usually dug under the
house and is so shallow that even when it has been closed the
stench is often very perceptible. The ornaments which were
placed on the body when it was laid out are removed before
it is lowered into the grave, and the dead takes his last rest
wrapt in a simple leaf-mat. Often a dying man expresses a
wish not to be buried. In that case his corpse, tightly
bandaged, is deposited in a corner of the house, and the
products of decomposition are allowed to drain through a
tube into the ground. When they have ceased to run, the
bundle is opened and the bones taken out and buried, except
the lower jawbone, which is preserved, sometimes along
with one of the lower arm bones. The lower jawbone
reminds the possessor of the duty of blood revenge which he
owes to the deceased, and which the dying man may have
inculcated on him with his last breath. The lower arm
bone brings luck in the chase, especially if the departed
relative was a mighty hunter. However, if the hunters have
a long run of bad luck, they conclude that the ghost has
departed to the under world and accordingly bury the
lower arm bone and the lower jawbone with the rest of the
skeleton. The length of the period of mourning is similarly
determined by the good or bad fortune of the huntsmen.
If the ghost provides them with game in abundance for a
long time after his death, the days of mourning are proportionately
extended; but when the game grows scarce or
fails altogether, the mourning comes to an end and the
memory of the deceased soon fades away.<a id="footnotetag446" name="footnotetag446"></a><a href="#footnote446"><sup>446</sup></a> The savage is a
thoroughly practical man and is not such a fool as to waste
his sorrow over a ghost who gives him nothing in return.
Nothing for nothing is his principle. His relations to the
dead stand on a strictly commercial basis.</p>

<p class="side">Mourning costume. Widows strangled to accompany their dead
husbands.</p>

<p>The mourning costume consists of strings round the
neck, bracelets of reed on the arms, and a cylindrical hat
of bark on the head. A widow is swathed in nets. The
intention of the costume is to signify to the ghost the
sympathy which the mourner feels for him in his disembodied
state. If the man in his lifetime was wont to crouch shivering
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page275" id="page275"></a>[pg 275]</span>
over the fire, a little fire will be kept up for a time at the
foot of the grave in order to warm his homeless spirit.<a id="footnotetag447" name="footnotetag447"></a><a href="#footnote447"><sup>447</sup></a>
The widow or widower has to discharge the disagreeable
duty of living day and night for several weeks in a hovel
built directly over the grave. Not unfrequently the lot of a
widow is much harder. At her own request she is sometimes
strangled and buried with her husband in the grave,
in order that her soul may accompany his on the journey
to the other world. The other relations have no interest
in encouraging the woman to sacrifice herself, rather the
contrary; but if she insists they fear to balk her, lest they
should offend the ghost of her husband, who would punish
them in many ways for keeping his wife from him. But
even such voluntary sacrifices, if we may believe Mr. Ch.
Keysser, are dictated rather by a selfish calculation than by
an impulse of disinterested affection. He mentions the case
of a man named Jabu, both of whose wives chose thus to attend
their husband in death. The deceased was an industrious
man, a skilful hunter and farmer, who provided his wives
with abundance of food. As such men are believed to work
hard also in the other world, tilling fields and killing game
just as here, the widows thought they could not do better
than follow him as fast as possible to the spirit land, since
they had no prospect of getting such another husband here
on earth. "How firmly convinced," adds the missionary
admiringly, "must these people be of the reality of another
world when they sacrifice their earthly existence, not for
the sake of a better life hereafter, but merely in order to be
no worse off there than they have been on earth." And
he adds that this consideration explains why no man ever
chooses to be strangled at the death of his wife. The labour
market in the better land is apparently not recruited from
the ranks of women.<a id="footnotetag448" name="footnotetag448"></a><a href="#footnote448"><sup>448</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">House or village deserted after a death.</p>

<p>The house in which anybody has died is deserted,
because the ghost of the dead is believed to haunt it and
make it unsafe at night. If the deceased was a chief or a
man of importance, the whole village is abandoned and a
new one built on another site.<a id="footnotetag449" name="footnotetag449"></a><a href="#footnote449"><sup>449</sup></a></p>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote415" name="footnote415"></a><b>Footnote 415:</b><a href="#footnotetag415"> (return) </a><p> Stefan Lehner, "Bukaua," in R. Neuhauss's <i>Deutsch
Neu-Guinea</i>, iii. (Berlin, 1911) pp. 395-485.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote416" name="footnote416"></a><b>Footnote 416:</b><a href="#footnotetag416"> (return) </a><p> S. Lehner, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 399, 433 <i>sq.</i>, 437
<i>sqq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote417" name="footnote417"></a><b>Footnote 417:</b><a href="#footnotetag417"> (return) </a><p>S. Lehner, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 399.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote418" name="footnote418"></a><b>Footnote 418:</b><a href="#footnotetag418"> (return) </a><p>S. Lehner, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 414.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote419" name="footnote419"></a><b>Footnote 419:</b><a href="#footnotetag419"> (return) </a><p>S. Lehner, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 466, 468.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote420" name="footnote420"></a><b>Footnote 420:</b><a href="#footnotetag420"> (return) </a><p>S. Lehner, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 469.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote421" name="footnote421"></a><b>Footnote 421:</b><a href="#footnotetag421"> (return) </a><p> S. Lehner, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 462 <i>sqq.</i>, 466, 467,
471 <i>sqq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote422" name="footnote422"></a><b>Footnote 422:</b><a href="#footnotetag422"> (return) </a><p>S. Lehner, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 462.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote423" name="footnote423"></a><b>Footnote 423:</b><a href="#footnotetag423"> (return) </a><p>S. Lehner, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 444 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote424" name="footnote424"></a><b>Footnote 424:</b><a href="#footnotetag424"> (return) </a><p> S. Lehner, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 434 <i>sqq.</i>; compare
<i>id.</i>, pp. 478 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote425" name="footnote425"></a><b>Footnote 425:</b><a href="#footnotetag425"> (return) </a><p>S. Lehner, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 462.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote426" name="footnote426"></a><b>Footnote 426:</b><a href="#footnotetag426"> (return) </a><p> S. Lehner, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 430, 470, 472 <i>sq.</i>,
474 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote427" name="footnote427"></a><b>Footnote 427:</b><a href="#footnotetag427"> (return) </a><p>S. Lehner, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 403.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote428" name="footnote428"></a><b>Footnote 428:</b><a href="#footnotetag428"> (return) </a><p>S. Lehner, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 402-410.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote429" name="footnote429"></a><b>Footnote 429:</b><a href="#footnotetag429"> (return) </a><p>S. Lehner, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 410-414.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote430" name="footnote430"></a><b>Footnote 430:</b><a href="#footnotetag430"> (return) </a><p> Ch. Keysser, "Aus dem Leben der Kaileute," in R.
Neuhauss's <i>Deutsch Neu-Guinea</i>, iii. 3-6.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote431" name="footnote431"></a><b>Footnote 431:</b><a href="#footnotetag431"> (return) </a><p>Ch. Keysser, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 12 <i>sq.</i>, 17-20.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote432" name="footnote432"></a><b>Footnote 432:</b><a href="#footnotetag432"> (return) </a><p>Ch. Keysser, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 9-12.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote433" name="footnote433"></a><b>Footnote 433:</b><a href="#footnotetag433"> (return) </a><p>Ch. Keysser, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 111.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote434" name="footnote434"></a><b>Footnote 434:</b><a href="#footnotetag434"> (return) </a><p>Ch. Keysser, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 113.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote435" name="footnote435"></a><b>Footnote 435:</b><a href="#footnotetag435"> (return) </a><p> Compare Ch. Hose and W. McDougall, <i>The Pagan Tribes of
Borneo</i> (London, 1912), ii. 221 <i>sq.</i>: "It has often been
attempted to exhibit the mental life of savage peoples as profoundly
different from our own; to assert that they act from motives, and reach
conclusions by means of mental processes, so utterly different from our
own motives and processes that we cannot hope to interpret or understand
their behaviour unless we can first, by some impossible or at least by
some hitherto undiscovered method, learn the nature of these mysterious
motives and processes. These attempts have recently been renewed in
influential quarters. If these views were applied to the savage peoples
of the interior of Borneo, we should characterise them as fanciful
delusions natural to the anthropologist who has spent all the days of
his life in a stiff collar and a black coat upon the well-paved ways of
civilised society. We have no hesitation in saying that, the more
intimately one becomes acquainted with these pagan tribes, the more
fully one realises the close similarity of their mental processes to
one's own. Their primary impulses and emotions seem to be in all
respects like our own. It is true that they are very unlike the typical
civilised man of some of the older philosophers, whose every action
proceeded from a nice and logical calculation of the algebraic sum of
pleasures and pains to be derived from alternative lines of conduct; but
we ourselves are equally unlike that purely mythical personage. The
Kayan or the Iban often acts impulsively in ways which by no means
conduce to further his best interests or deeper purposes; but so do we
also. He often reaches conclusions by processes that cannot be logically
justified; but so do we also. He often holds, and upon successive
occasions acts upon, beliefs that are logically inconsistent with one
another; but so do we also." For further testimonies to the reasoning
powers of savages, which it would be superfluous to affirm if it were
not at present a fashion with some theorists to deny, see <i>Taboo and
the Perils of the Soul</i>, pp. 420 <i>sqq.</i> And on the tendency of
the human mind in general, not of the savage mind in particular, calmly
to acquiesce in inconsistent and even contradictory conclusions, I may
refer to a note in <i>Adonis, Attis, Osiris</i>, Second Edition, p. 4.
But indeed to observe such contradictions in practice the philosopher
need not quit his own study.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote436" name="footnote436"></a><b>Footnote 436:</b><a href="#footnotetag436"> (return) </a><p>Ch. Keysser, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 111 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote437" name="footnote437"></a><b>Footnote 437:</b><a href="#footnotetag437"> (return) </a><p>Ch. Keysser, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 112.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote438" name="footnote438"></a><b>Footnote 438:</b><a href="#footnotetag438"> (return) </a><p> Ch. Keysser, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 140. As to the magical
tubes in which the sorcerer seals up some part of his victim's soul, see
<i>id.</i>, p. 135.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote439" name="footnote439"></a><b>Footnote 439:</b><a href="#footnotetag439"> (return) </a><p>Ch. Keysser, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 140 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote440" name="footnote440"></a><b>Footnote 440:</b><a href="#footnotetag440"> (return) </a><p> Mr. Keysser indeed affirms that in the mind of the Kai
sorcery "is regarded as the cause of all deaths" (<i>op. cit.</i> p.
102), and again that "all men without exception die in consequence of
the baneful acts of these sorcerers and their accomplices" (p. 134); and
again that "even in the case of old people they assume sorcery to be the
cause of death; to sorcery, too, all misfortunes whatever are ascribed"
(p. 140). But that these statements are exaggerations seems to follow
from Mr. Keysser's own account of the wounds, sicknesses, and deaths
which these savages attribute to ghosts and not to sorcerers.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote441" name="footnote441"></a><b>Footnote 441:</b><a href="#footnotetag441"> (return) </a><p>Ch. Keysser, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 141.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote442" name="footnote442"></a><b>Footnote 442:</b><a href="#footnotetag442"> (return) </a><p>Ch. Keysser, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 133 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote443" name="footnote443"></a><b>Footnote 443:</b><a href="#footnotetag443"> (return) </a><p>Ch. Keysser, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 141 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote444" name="footnote444"></a><b>Footnote 444:</b><a href="#footnotetag444"> (return) </a><p>Ch. Keysser, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 80 <i>sq.</i>, 142.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote445" name="footnote445"></a><b>Footnote 445:</b><a href="#footnotetag445"> (return) </a><p>Ch. Keysser, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 142.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote446" name="footnote446"></a><b>Footnote 446:</b><a href="#footnotetag446"> (return) </a><p>Ch. Keysser, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 82, 83.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote447" name="footnote447"></a><b>Footnote 447:</b><a href="#footnotetag447"> (return) </a><p>Ch. Keysser, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 82, 142 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote448" name="footnote448"></a><b>Footnote 448:</b><a href="#footnotetag448"> (return) </a><p>Ch. Keysser, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 83 <i>sq.</i>, 143.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote449" name="footnote449"></a><b>Footnote 449:</b><a href="#footnotetag449"> (return) </a><p>Ch. Keysser, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 83.</p></blockquote>

<span class="pagenum"><a name="page276" id="page276"></a>[pg 276]</span>




<h2><a name="lecture-xiii" id="lecture-xiii"></a>LECTURE XIII</h2>

<h3>THE BELIEF IN IMMORTALITY AMONG THE NATIVES OF
GERMAN NEW GUINEA (<i>continued</i>)</h3>


<p class="side">Offerings to appease ghosts.</p>

<p>In the last lecture I gave you some account of the fear
and awe which the Kai of German New Guinea entertain
for the spirits of the dead. Believing that the ghost is
endowed with all the qualities and faculties which distinguished
the man in his lifetime, they naturally dread
most the ghosts of warlike, cruel, violent, and passionate
men, and take the greatest pains to soothe their anger and
win their favour. For that purpose they give the departed
spirit all sorts of things to take with him to the far country.
And in order that he may have the use of them it is
necessary to smash or otherwise spoil them. Thus the
spear that is given him must be broken, the pot must be
shivered, the bag must be torn, the palm-tree must be cut
down. Fruits are offered to the ghost by dashing them in
pieces or hanging a bunch of them over the grave. Objects
of value, such as boars' tusks or dogs' teeth, are made over
to him by being laid on the corpse; but the economical
savage removes these precious things from the body at
burial. All such offerings and sacrifices, we are told, are
made simply out of fear of the ghost. It is no pleasure to
a man to cut down a valuable palm-tree, which might have
helped to nourish himself and his family for years; he does
it only lest a worse thing should befall him at the hands of
the departed spirit.<a id="footnotetag450" name="footnotetag450"></a><a href="#footnote450"><sup>450</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Mode of discovering the sorcerer who caused a death.</p>

<p>But the greatest service that the Kai can render to a
dead man is to take vengeance on the sorcerer who caused
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page277" id="page277"></a>[pg 277]</span>
his death by witchcraft. The first thing is to discover the
villain, and in the search for him the ghost obligingly
assists his surviving kinsfolk. Sometimes, however, it is
necessary to resort to a stratagem in order to secure his
help. Thus, for example, one day while the ghost, blinded
by the strong sunlight, is cowering in a dark corner or
reposing at full length in the grave, his relatives will set up
a low scaffold in a field, cover it with leaves, and pile up
over it a mass of the field fruits which belonged to the dead
man, so that the whole erection may appear to the eye of
the unsuspecting ghost a heap of taro, yams, and so forth,
and nothing more. But before the sun goes down, two or
three men steal out from the house, and ensconce themselves
under the scaffold, where they are completely concealed
by the piled-up fruits. When darkness has fallen, out
comes the ghost and prowling about espies the heap of
yams and taro. At sight of the devastation wrought in his
field he flies into a passion, and curses and swears in the
feeble wheezy whisper in which ghosts always speak. In
the course of his fluent imprecations he expresses a wish
that the miscreants who have wasted his substance may
suffer so and so at the hands of the sorcerer. That is just
what the men in hiding have been waiting for. No sooner
do they hear the name of the sorcerer than they jump up
with a great shout; the startled ghost takes to his heels;
and all the people in the village come pouring out of the
houses. Very glad they are to know that the murderer
has been found out, and sooner or later they will have his
blood.<a id="footnotetag451" name="footnotetag451"></a><a href="#footnote451"><sup>451</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Another way of detecting the sorcerer.</p>

<p>Another mode of eliciting the requisite information from
the ghost is this. In order to allow him to communicate
freely with his mouldering body, his relations insert a tube
through the earth of the grave down to the corpse; then
they sprinkle powdered lime on the grave. At night the
ghost comes along, picks up the powdered lime, and makes off
in a bee line for the village where the sorcerer who bewitched
him resides. On the way he drops some of the powder
here and there, so that next morning, on the principle of the
paper-chase, his relatives can trace his footsteps to the
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page278" id="page278"></a>[pg 278]</span>
very door of his murderer. In many districts the people
tie a packet of lime to the knee of a corpse so that his
ghost may have it to hand when he wants it.<a id="footnotetag452" name="footnotetag452"></a><a href="#footnote452"><sup>452</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Cross-questioning the ghost by means of fire.</p>

<p>But the favourite way of cross-questioning the ghost on
subject of his decease is by means of fire. A few men
go out before nightfall from the village and sit down in a
row, one behind the other, on the path. The man in front
has a leaf-mat drawn like a hood over his head and back
in order that the ghost may not touch him from behind
unawares. In his hand he holds a glowing coal and some
tinder, and as he puts the one to the other he calls to the
ghost, "Come, take, take, take; come, take, take, take," and
so on. Meantime his mates behind him are reckoning up
the names of all the men near and far who are suspected of
sorcery, and a portion of the village youth have clambered
up trees and are on the look-out for the ghost. If they do
not see his body they certainly see his eye twinkling in the
gloom, though the uninstructed European might easily
mistake it for a glow-worm. No sooner do they catch sight
of it than they bawl out, "Come hither, fetch the fire, and
burn him who burnt thee." If the tinder blazes up at the
name of a sorcerer, it is flung towards the village where the
man in question dwells. And if at the same time a glow-worm
is seen to move in the same direction, the people
entertain no doubt that the ghost has appeared and fetched
the soul of the fire.<a id="footnotetag453" name="footnotetag453"></a><a href="#footnote453"><sup>453</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Necessity of destroying the sorcerer who caused a death.</p>

<p>In whichever way the author of the death may be
detected, the avengers of blood set out for the village of
the miscreant and seek to take his life. Almost all the
wars between villages or tribes spring from such expeditions.
The sorcerer or sorcerers must be extirpated, nay all their
kith and kin must be destroyed root and branch, if the
people are to live in peace and quiet. The ghost of the
dead calls, nay clamours for vengeance, and if he does not
get it, he will wreak his spite on his negligent relations.
Not only will he give them no luck in the chase, but he
will drive the wild swine into the fields to trample down
and root up the crops, and he will do them every mischief
in his power.  If rain does not fall, so that the freshly
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page279" id="page279"></a>[pg 279]</span>
planted root crops wither; or if sickness is rife, the people
recognise in the calamity the wrath of the ghost, who can
only be appeased by the slaughter of the wicked magician
or of somebody else. Hence the avengers of blood often
do not set out until a fresh death, an outbreak of sickness,
failure in the chase, or some other misfortune reminds the
living of the duty they owe to the dead. The Kai is not
by nature warlike, and he might never go to war if it were
not that he dreads the vengeance of ghosts more than the
wrath of men.<a id="footnotetag454" name="footnotetag454"></a><a href="#footnote454"><sup>454</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Slayers dread the ghosts of the slain.</p>

<p>If the expedition has been successful, if the enemy's
village has been surprised and stormed, the men and old
women butchered, and the young women taken prisoners,
the warriors beat a hasty retreat with their booty in order
to be safe at home, or at least in the shelter of a friendly
village, before nightfall. Their reason for haste is the fear
of being overtaken in the darkness by the ghosts of their
slaughtered foes, who, powerless by day, are very dangerous
and terrible by night. Restlessly through the hours of
darkness these unquiet spirits follow like sleuth-hounds in
the tracks of their retreating enemies, eager to come up with
them and by contact with the bloodstained weapons of their
slayers to recover the spiritual substance which they have
lost. Not till they have done so can they find rest and peace.
That is why the victors are careful not at first to bring back
their weapons into the village but to hide them somewhere
in the bushes at a safe distance. There they leave them for
some days until the baffled ghosts may be supposed to have
given up the chase and returned, sad and angry, to their
mangled bodies in the charred ruins of their old home.
The first night after the return of the warriors is always
the most anxious time; all the villagers are then on the
alert for fear of the ghosts; but if the night passes quietly,
their terror gradually subsides and gives place to the dread
of their surviving enemies.<a id="footnotetag455" name="footnotetag455"></a><a href="#footnote455"><sup>455</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Seclusion of man-slayers from fear of their victims' ghosts.</p>

<p>As the victors in a raid are supposed to have more or
less of the soul-stuff or spiritual essence of their slain foes
adhering to their persons, none of their friends will venture
to touch them for some time after their return to the village.
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page280" id="page280"></a>[pg 280]</span>
Everybody avoids them and goes carefully out of their way.
If during this time any of the villagers suffers from a pain
in his stomach, he thinks that he must have inadvertently
sat down where one of the warriors had sat before him. If
somebody endures the pangs of toothache, he makes sure
that he must have eaten a fruit which had been touched by
one of the slayers. All the refuse of the meals of these
gallant men must be most carefully put away lest a pig
should devour it; for if it did do so, the animal would
certainly die, which would be a serious loss to the owner.
Hence when the warriors have satisfied their hunger, any
food that remains over is burnt or buried. The fighting men
themselves are not very seriously incommoded, or at all
events endangered, by the ghosts of their victims; for they
have taken the precaution to disinfect themselves by the
sap of a certain creeper, which, if it does not render them
absolutely immune to ghostly influence, at least fortifies
their constitution to a very considerable extent.<a id="footnotetag456" name="footnotetag456"></a><a href="#footnote456"><sup>456</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Feigned indignation of a man who has connived at the murder
of a relative.</p>

<p>Sometimes, instead of sending forth a band of warriors
to ravage, burn, and slaughter the whole male population of
the village in which the wicked sorcerer resides, the people
of one village will come to a secret understanding with the
people of the sorcerer's village to have the miscreant quietly
put out of the way. A hint is given to the scoundrel's next
of kin, it may be his brother, son, or nephew, that if he will
only wink at the slaughter of his obnoxious relative, he will
receive a handsome compensation from the slayers. Should
he privately accept the offer, he is most careful to conceal
his connivance at the deed of blood, lest he should draw
down on his head the wrath of his murdered kinsman's
ghost. So, when the deed is done and the murder is out,
he works himself up into a state of virtuous sorrow and
indignation, covers his head with the leaves of a certain
plant, and chanting a dirge in tones of heart-rending grief,
marches straight to the village of the murderers. There, on
the public square, surrounded by an attentive audience, he
opens the floodgates of his eloquence and pours forth the
torrent of an aching heart. "You have slain my kinsman,"
says he, "you are wicked men! How could you kill so
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page281" id="page281"></a>[pg 281]</span>
good a man, who conferred so many benefits on me in his
lifetime? I knew nothing of the plot. Had I had an
inkling of it, I would have foiled it. How can I now
avenge his death? I have no property with which to hire
men of war to go and punish his murderers. Yet in spite
of everything my murdered kinsman will not believe in my
innocence! He will be angry with me, he will pay me out, he
will do me all the harm he can. Therefore do you declare
openly whether I had any share whatever in his death,
and come and strew lime on my head in order that he may
convince himself of my innocence." This appeal of injured
innocence meets with a ready response. The people dust
the leaves on his head with powdered lime; and so, decorated
with the white badge of spotless virtue, and enriched with a
boar's tusk or other valuable object as the price of his compliance,
he returns to his village with a conscience at peace
with all the world, reflecting with satisfaction on the profitable
transaction he has just concluded, and laughing in his
sleeve at the poor deluded ghost of his murdered relative.<a id="footnotetag457" name="footnotetag457"></a><a href="#footnote457"><sup>457</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Comedy acted to deceive the ghost of a murdered kinsman.</p>

<p>Sometimes the worthy soul who thus for a valuable
consideration consents to waive all his personal feelings,
will even carry his self-abnegation so far as to be present
and look on at the murder of his kinsman. But true to his
principles he will see to it that the thing is done decently
and humanely. When the struggle is nearly over and the
man is down, writhing on the ground with the murderers
busy about him, his loving kinsman will not suffer them to
take an unfair advantage of their superior numbers to cut
him up alive with their knives, to chop him with their axes,
or to smash him with their clubs. He will only allow them
to stab him with their spears, repeating of course the stabs
again and again till the victim ceases to writhe and
quiver, and lies there dead as a stone. Then begins the
real time of peril for the virtuous kinsman who has been
a spectator and director of the scene; for the ghost of the
murdered man has now deserted its mangled body, and,
still blinded with blood and smarting with pain, might
easily and even excusably misunderstand the situation.
It is essential, therefore, in order to prevent a painful
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page282" id="page282"></a>[pg 282]</span>
misapprehension, that the kinsman should at once and emphatically
disclaim any part or parcel in the murder. This
he accordingly does in language which leaves no room for
doubt or ambiguity. He falls into a passion: he rails at
the murderers: he proclaims his horror at their deed. All
the way home he refuses to be comforted. He upbraids
the assassins, he utters the most frightful threats against
them; he rushes at them to snatch their weapons from
them and dash them in pieces. But they easily wrench
the weapons from his unresisting hands. For the whole
thing is only a piece of acting. His sole intention is that
the ghost may see and hear it all, and being convinced of
the innocence of his dear kinsman may not punish him
with bad crops, wounds, sickness, and other misfortunes.
Even when he has reached the village, he keeps up the
comedy for a time, raging, fretting and fuming at the
irreparable loss he has sustained by the death of his lamented
relative.<a id="footnotetag458" name="footnotetag458"></a><a href="#footnote458"><sup>458</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Pretence of avenging the ghost of a murdered sorcerer.</p>

<p>Similarly when a chief has among his subjects a particular
sorcerer whom he fears but with whom he is professedly
on terms of friendship, he will sometimes engage a
man to murder him. No sooner, however, is the murder
perpetrated than the chief who bespoke it hastens in seeming
indignation with a band of followers to the murderer's
village. The assassin, of course, has got a hint of what is
coming, and he and his friends take care not to be at home
when the chief arrives on his mission of vengeance. Balked
by the absence of their victim the avengers of blood breathe
out fire and slaughter, but content themselves in fact with
smashing an old pot or two, knocking down a deserted hut,
and perhaps felling a banana-tree or a betel-palm. Having
thus given the ghost of the murdered man an unequivocal
proof of the sincerity of their friendship, they return quietly
home.<a id="footnotetag459" name="footnotetag459"></a><a href="#footnote459"><sup>459</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">The Kai afraid of ghosts.</p>

<p>The habits of Kai ghosts are to some extent just the
contrary of those of living men. They sleep by day and
go about their business by night, when they frighten people
and play them all kinds of tricks. Usually they appear in
the form of animals. As light has the effect of blinding or at
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page283" id="page283"></a>[pg 283]</span>
least dazzling them, they avoid everything bright, and hence
it is easy to scare them away by means of fire. That is
why no native will go even a short way in the dark without
a bamboo torch. If it is absolutely necessary to go out by
night, which he is very loth to do, he will hum and haw
loudly before quitting the house so as to give notice to any
lurking ghost that he is coming with a light, which allows
the ghost to scuttle out of his way in good time. The people
of a village live in terror above all so long as a corpse
remains unburied in it; after nightfall nobody would then
venture out of sight of the houses. When a troop of people
go by night to a neighbouring village with flaring torches
in their hands, nobody is willing to walk last on the path;
they all huddle together for safety in the middle, till one
man braver than the rest consents to act as rearguard.
The rustling of a bush in the evening twilight startles them
with the dread of some ghastly apparition; the sight of a
pig in the gloaming is converted by their fears into the
vision of a horrible spectre. If a man stumbles, it is because
a ghost has pushed him, and he fancies he perceives the
frightful thing in a tree-stump or any chance object. No
wonder a Kai man fears ghosts, since he believes that the
mere touch of one of them may be fatal. People who fall
down in fits or in faints are supposed to have been touched
by ghosts; and on coming to themselves they will tell their
friends with the most solemn assurance how they felt the
death-cold hand of the ghost on their body, and how a
shudder ran through their whole frame at contact with the
uncanny being.<a id="footnotetag460" name="footnotetag460"></a><a href="#footnote460"><sup>460</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Services rendered to the living by ghosts of the dead.</p>

<p>But it would be a mistake to imagine that the ghosts
of the dead are a source of danger, annoyance, and discomfort,
and nothing more. That is not so. They may and
do render the Kai the most material services in everyday
life, particularly by promoting the supply of food both
vegetable and animal. I have said that these practical
savages stand towards their departed kinsfolk on a strictly
commercial footing; and I will now illustrate the benefits
which the Kai hope to receive from the ghosts in return for
all the respect and attention lavished on them. In the first
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page284" id="page284"></a>[pg 284]</span>
place, then, so long as a ghost remains in the neighbourhood
of the village, it is expected of him that he shall make the
crops thrive and neither tread them down himself nor allow
wild pigs to do so. The expectation is reasonable, yet
the conduct of the ghost does not always answer to it.
Occasionally, whether out of sheer perverseness or simple
absence of mind, he will sit down in a field; and wherever
he does so, he makes a hollow where the fruits will not
grow. Indeed any fruit that he even touches with his foot
in passing, shrivels up. Where these things have happened,
the people offer boiled taro and a few crabs to the ghosts
to induce them to keep clear of the crops and to repose
their weary limbs elsewhere than in the tilled fields.<a id="footnotetag461" name="footnotetag461"></a><a href="#footnote461"><sup>461</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Ghosts help Kai hunters to kill game.</p>

<p>But the most important service which the dead render
to the living is the good luck which they vouchsafe to
hunters. Hence in order to assure himself of the favour
of the dead the hunter hangs his nets on a grave before
he uses them. If a man was a good and successful hunter
in his lifetime, his ghost will naturally be more than usually
able to assist his brethren in the craft after his death. For
that reason when such a man has just died, the people,
to adopt a familiar proverb, hasten to make hay while the
sun shines by hunting very frequently, in the confident
expectation of receiving ghostly help from the deceased
hunter. In the evening, when they return from the chase,
they lay a small portion of their bag near his grave, scatter a
powder which possesses the special virtue of attracting ghosts,
and call out, "So-and-so, come and eat; here I set down
food for you, it is a part of all we have." If after such an
offering and invocation the night wind rustles the tops of
the trees or shakes the thatch of leaves on the roofs, they
know that the ghost is in the village. The twinkle of a
glow-worm near his grave is the glitter of his eye. In the
morning, too, before they sally forth to the woods, one of
the next of kin to the dead huntsman will go betimes to his
grave, stamp on it to waken the sleeper below, and call out,
"So-and-so, come! we are now about to go out hunting.
Help us to a good bag!" If they have luck, they praise
the deceased as a good spirit and in the evening supply
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page285" id="page285"></a>[pg 285]</span>
his wants again with food, tobacco, and betel. The sacrifice,
as usually happens in such cases, does not call for any
great exercise of self-denial; since the spirit consumes only
the spiritual essence of the good things, while he leaves
their material substance to be enjoyed by the living.<a id="footnotetag462" name="footnotetag462"></a><a href="#footnote462"><sup>462</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Ill-treatment of a ghost who fails to help hunters.</p>

<p>However, it sometimes happens that the ghost disappoints
them, and that the hunters return in the evening
hungry and empty-handed. This may even be repeated
day after day, and still the people will not lose hope. They
think that the ghost is perhaps busy working in his field,
or that he has gone on a visit and will soon come home.
To give him time to do his business or see his friends at
leisure, they will remain in the village for several days.
Then, when they imagine that he must surely have returned,
they go out into the woods and try their luck
again. But should there still be no ghost and no game,
they begin to be seriously alarmed. They think that some
evil must have befallen him. But if time goes on and still
he gives no sign and the game continues scarce and shy,
their feelings towards the ghost undergo a radical alteration.
Passion getting the better of prudence, they will even reproach
him with ingratitude, taunt him with his uselessness,
and leave him to starve. Should he after that still remain
deaf to their railing and regardless of the short commons
to which they have reduced him, they will discharge a volley
of abuse at his grave and trouble themselves about him no
more. However, if, not content with refusing his valuable
assistance in the chase, the ghost should actually blight the
crops or send wild boars into the fields to trample them
down, the patience of the long-suffering people is quite
exhausted: the vials of their wrath overflow; and snatching
up their cudgels in a fury they belabour his grave till his
bones ache, or even drive him with blows and curses
altogether from the village.<a id="footnotetag463" name="footnotetag463"></a><a href="#footnote463"><sup>463</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">The journey of ghosts to the spirit land.</p>

<p>Such an outcast ghost, if he does not seek his revenge
by prowling in the neighbourhood and preying on society
at large, will naturally bethink himself of repairing to his
long home in the under world. For sooner or later the
spirits of the dead congregate there. It is especially when
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page286" id="page286"></a>[pg 286]</span>
the flesh has quite mouldered away from his bones that the
ghost packs up his little traps and sets out for the better
land. The entrance to the abode of bliss is a cave to the
west of Saddle Mountain. Here in the gully there is a
projecting tree-stump on which the ghosts perch waiting
for a favourable moment to jump into the mouth of the
cavern. When a slight earthquake is felt, a Kai man will
often say, "A ghost has just leaped from the tree into the
cave; that is why the earth is shaking." Down below the
ghosts are received by Tulmeng, lord of the nether world.
Often he appears in a canoe to ferry them over to the
further shore. "Blood or wax?" is the laconic question
which he puts to the ghost on the bank. He means to say,
"Were you killed or were you done to death by magic?"
For it is with wax that the sorcerer stops up the fatal little
tubes in which he encloses the souls of his enemies. And
the reason why the lord of the dead puts the question to
the newcomer is that the ghosts of the slain and the ghosts
of the bewitched dwell in separate places. Right in front
of the land of souls rises a high steep wall, which cannot
be climbed even by ghosts. The spirits have accordingly
to make their way through it and thereupon find themselves
in their new abode. According to some Kai, before the
ghosts are admitted to ghost land they must swing to and
fro on a rope and then drop into water, where they are
washed clean of bloodstains and all impurity; after which
they ascend, spick and span, the last slope to the village of
ghosts.</p>

<p class="side">Life of ghosts in the other world.</p>

<p>Tulmeng has the reputation of being a very stern ruler
in his weird realm, but the Kai really know very little about
him. He beats refractory souls, and it is essential that
every ghost should have his ears and nose bored. The
operation is very painful, and to escape it most people take
the precaution of having their ears and noses bored in their
lifetime. Life in the other world goes on just like life in
this one. Houses are built exactly like houses on earth,
and there as here pigs swarm in the streets. Fields are
tilled and crops are got in; ghostly men marry ghostly
women, who give birth to ghostly children. The same old
round of love and hate, of quarrelling and fighting, of
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page287" id="page287"></a>[pg 287]</span>
battle, murder and sudden death goes on in the shadowy
realm below ground just as in the more solid world above
ground. Sorcerers are there also, and they breed just as
bad blood among the dead as among the living. All things
indeed are the same except for their shadowy unsubstantial
texture.<a id="footnotetag464" name="footnotetag464"></a><a href="#footnote464"><sup>464</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Ghosts die and turn into animals.</p>

<p>But the ghosts do not live for ever in the nether world.
They die the second death and turn into animals, generally
into cuscuses. In the shape of animals they haunt the
wildest, deepest, darkest glens of the rugged mountains.
No one but the owner has the right to set foot on such
haunted ground. He may even kill the ghostly animals.
Any one else who dared to disturb them in their haunts
would do so at the peril of his life. But even the owner of
the land who has killed one of the ghostly creatures is
bound to appease the spirit of the dead beast. He may
not cut up the carcase at once, but must leave it for a time,
perhaps for a whole night, after laying on it presents which
are intended to mollify and soothe the injured spirit. In
placing the gifts on the body he says, "Take the gifts and
leave us that which was a game animal, that we may eat
it." When the animal's ghost has appropriated the spiritual
essence of the offerings, the hunter and his family may eat
the carcase. Should one of these ghostly creatures die or
be killed, its spirit turns either into an insect or into an
ant-hill. Children who would destroy such an ant-hill or
throw little darts at it, are warned by their elders not to
indulge in such sacrilegious sport. When the insect also
dies, the series of spiritual transformations is at an end.<a id="footnotetag465" name="footnotetag465"></a><a href="#footnote465"><sup>465</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Ghosts of persons eminent for good or evil in their lives are
remembered and appealed to for help long after their deaths. Prayers to
ghosts for rain, a good crop of yams, and so forth.</p>

<p>The ghosts whose help is invoked by hunters and
farmers are commonly the spirits of persons who have lately
died, since such spirits linger for a time in the neighbourhood,
or rather in the memory of the people. But besides
these spirits of the recent dead there are certain older
ghosts who may be regarded as permanent patrons of
hunting and other departments of life and nature, because
their fame has survived long after the men or women
themselves were gathered to their fathers. For example,
men who were bold and resolute in battle during their
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page288" id="page288"></a>[pg 288]</span>
life will be invoked long after their death, whenever a
stout heart is needed for some feat of daring. And
men who were notorious thieves and villains in the flesh
will be invited, long after their bodies have mouldered
in the grave, to lend their help when a deed of villainy is
to be done. The names of men or women who were
eminent for good or evil in their lives survive indefinitely
in the memory of the tribe. Thus before a battle many
a Kai warrior will throw something over the enemy's
village and as he does so he will softly call on two ghosts,
"We and Gunang, ye two heroes, come and guard me and
keep the foes from me, that they may not be able to hurt
me! But stand by me that I may be able to riddle them
with spears!" Again, when a magician wishes to cause
an earthquake, he will take a handful of ashes, wrap
them in certain leaves, and pronounce the following spell
over the packet: "Thou man S&acirc;iong, throw about everything
that exists; houses, villages, paths, fields, bushes and
tall forest trees, yams, and taro, throw them all hither and
thither; break and smash everything, but leave me in
peace!" While he utters this incantation or prayer, the
sorcerer's body itself twitches and quivers more and more
violently, till the hut creaks and cracks and his strength is
exhausted. Then he throws the packet of ashes out of the
hut, and after that the earthquake is sure to follow sooner
or later. So when they want rain, the Kai call upon two
ghostly men named Balong and Batu, or Dinding and
Bojang, to drive away a certain woman named Yondimi,
so that the rain which she is holding up may fall upon the
earth. The prayer for rain addressed to the ghosts is
combined with a magical spell pronounced over a stone.
And when rain has fallen in abundance and the Kai wish
to make it cease, they strew hot ashes on the stone or lay
it in a wood fire. On the principle of homoeopathic magic
the heat of the ashes or of the fire is supposed to dry up
the rain. Thus in these ceremonies for the production or
cessation of rain we see that religion, represented by the
invocation of the ghosts, goes hand in hand with magic,
represented by the hocus-pocus with the stone. Again,
certain celebrated ghosts are invoked to promote the growth
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page289" id="page289"></a>[pg 289]</span>
of taro and yams. Thus to ensure a good crop of taro,
the suppliant will hold a bud of taro in his hand and pray,
"O Mrs. Zewanong, may my taro leaves unfold till they
are as broad as the petticoat which covers thy loins!"
When they are planting yams, they pray to two women
named Tendung and Molewa that they would cause the
yams to put forth as long suckers as the strings which the
women twist to make into carrying-nets. Before they dig
up the yams, they take a branch and drive with it the evil
spirits or ghosts from the house in which the yams are to
be stored. Having effected this clearance they stick the
branch in the roof of the house and appoint a certain
ghostly man named Ehang to act as warden. Again,
fowlers invoke a married pair of ghosts called M&acirc;nze and
T&acirc;mingoka to frighten the birds from the trees and drive
them on the limed twigs. Or they pray to a ghostly
woman named L&acirc;ne, saying, "In all places of the neighbourhood
shake the betel-nuts from the palms, that they may
fall down to me on this fruit-tree and knock the berries
from the boughs!" But by the betel-nuts the fowler in
veiled language means the birds, which are to come in flocks
to the fruit-tree and be caught fast by the lime on the
branches. Again, when a fisherman wishes to catch eels,
he prays to two ghosts called Yambi and Ngigw&acirc;li, saying:
"Come, ye two men, and go down into the holes of the
pool; smite the eels in them, and draw them out on the
bank, that I may kill them!" Once more, when a child
suffers from enlarged spleen, which shews as a swelling on
its body, the parent will pray to a ghost named Aidolo for
help in these words: "Come and help this child! It is
big with a ball of sickness. Cut it up and squeeze and
squash it, that the blood and pus may drain away and my
child may be made whole!" To give point to the prayer
the petitioner simultaneously pretends to cut a cross on the
swelling with a knife.<a id="footnotetag466" name="footnotetag466"></a><a href="#footnote466"><sup>466</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Possible development of departmental gods out of ghosts.</p>

<p>From this it appears that men and women who impressed
their contemporaries by their talents, their virtues,
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page290" id="page290"></a>[pg 290]</span>
or their vices in their lifetime, are sometimes remembered
long after their death and continue to be invoked by their
descendants for help in the particular department in which
they had formerly rendered themselves eminent either for
good or for evil. Such powerful and admired or dreaded
ghosts might easily grow in time into gods and goddesses,
who are worshipped as presiding over the various departments
of nature and of human life. There is good reason
to think that among many tribes and nations of the world
the history of a god, if it could be recovered, would be
found to be the history of a spirit who served his apprenticeship
as a ghost before he was promoted to the rank of
deity.</p>

<p class="side">Kai lads at circumcision supposed to be swallowed by a
monster. Bull-roarers.</p>

<p>Before quitting the Kai tribe I will mention that they,
like the other tribes on this coast, practise circumcision and
appear to associate the custom more or less vaguely with
the spirits of the dead. Like their neighbours, they impress
women with the belief that at circumcision the lads are
swallowed by a monster, who can only be induced to
disgorge them by the bribe of much food and especially of
pigs, which are accordingly bred and kept nominally for this
purpose, but really to furnish a banquet for the men alone.
The ceremony is performed at irregular intervals of several
years. A long hut, entered through a high door at one
end and tapering away at the other, is built in a lonely
part of the forest. It represents the monster which is to
swallow the novices in its capacious jaws. The process of
deglutition is represented as follows. In front of the
entrance to the hut a scaffold is erected and a man mounts
it. The novices are then led up one by one and passed
under the scaffold. As each comes up, the man overhead
makes a gesture of swallowing, while at the same time he
takes a great gulp of water from a coco-nut flask. The
trembling novice is now supposed to be in the maw of the
monster; but a pig is offered for his redemption, the man
on the scaffold, as representative of the beast, accepts the
offering, a gurgling sound is heard, and the water which he
had just gulped descends in a jet on the novice, who now
goes free. The actual circumcision follows immediately on
this impressive pantomime. The monster who swallows the
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page291" id="page291"></a>[pg 291]</span>
lads is named Ngosa, which means "Grandfather"; and the
same name is given to the bull-roarers which are swung at
the festival. The Kai bull-roarer is a lance-shaped piece of
palm-wood, more or less elaborately carved, which being
swung at the end of a string emits the usual droning,
booming sound. When they are not in use, the instruments
are kept, carefully wrapt up, in the men's house, which no
woman may enter. Only the old men have the right to
undo these precious bundles and take out the sacred bull-roarers.
Women, too, are strictly excluded from the
neighbourhood of the circumcision ground; any who intrude
on it are put to death. The mythical monster who is
supposed to haunt the ground is said to be very dangerous
to the female sex. When the novices go forth to be
swallowed by him in the forest, the women who remain in
the village weep and wail; and they rejoice greatly when
the lads come back safe and sound.<a id="footnotetag467" name="footnotetag467"></a><a href="#footnote467"><sup>467</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">The Tami Islanders of Huon Gulf.</p>

<p>The last tribe of German New Guinea to which I shall
invite your attention are the Tami. Most of them live not
on the mainland but in a group of islands in Huon Gulf,
to the south-east of Yabim. They are of a purer Melanesian
stock than most of the tribes on the neighbouring coast of
New Guinea. The German missionary Mr. G. Bamler,
who lived amongst them for ten years and knows the people
and their language intimately, thinks that they may even
contain a strong infusion of Polynesian blood.<a id="footnotetag468" name="footnotetag468"></a><a href="#footnote468"><sup>468</sup></a> They are a
seafaring folk, who extend their voyages all along the coast
for the purpose of trade, bartering mats, pearls, fish, coco-nuts,
and other tree-fruits which grow on their islands for
taro, bananas, sugar-cane, and sago, which grow on the
mainland.<a id="footnotetag469" name="footnotetag469"></a><a href="#footnote469"><sup>469</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">The long soul and the short soul.</p>

<p>In the opinion of these people every man has two souls,
a long one and a short one. The long soul is identified
with the shadow. It is only loosely attached to its owner,
wandering away from his body in sleep and returning to it
when he wakes with a start. The seat of the long soul is
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page292" id="page292"></a>[pg 292]</span>
in the stomach. When the man dies, the long soul quits
his body and appears to his relations at a distance, who
thus obtain the first intimation of his decease. Having
conveyed the sad intelligence to them, the long soul departs
by way of Maligep, on the west coast of New Britain, to a
village on the north coast, the inhabitants of which recognise
the Tami ghosts as they flit past.<a id="footnotetag470" name="footnotetag470"></a><a href="#footnote470"><sup>470</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Departure of the short soul to Lamboam, the nether world.</p>

<p>The short soul, on the other hand, never leaves the
body in life but only after death. Even then it tarries for
a time in the neighbourhood of the body before it takes its
departure for Lamboam, which is the abode of the dead in
the nether world. The Tami bury their dead in shallow
graves under or near the houses. They collect in a coco-nut
shell the maggots which swarm from the decaying
corpse; and when the insects cease to swarm, they know
that the short soul has gone away to its long home. It is
the short soul which receives and carries away with it the
offerings that are made to the deceased. These offerings
serve a double purpose; they form the nucleus of the
dead man's property in the far country, and they ensure
him a friendly reception on his arrival. For example, the
soul shivers with cold, when it first reaches the subterranean
realm, and the other ghosts, the old stagers, obligingly heat
stones to warm it up.<a id="footnotetag471" name="footnotetag471"></a><a href="#footnote471"><sup>471</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Dilemma of the Tami.</p>

<p>However, the restless spirit returns from time to time
to haunt and terrify the sorcerer, who was the cause of its
death. But its threats are idle; it can really do him very
little harm. Yet it keeps its ghostly eye on its surviving
relatives to see that they do not stand on a friendly footing
with the wicked sorcerer. Strictly speaking the Tami
ought to avenge his death, but as a matter of fact they do
not. The truth of it is that the Tami do a very good
business with the people on the mainland, among whom
the sorcerer is usually to be found; and the amicable relations
which are essential to the maintenance of commerce
would unquestionably suffer if a merchant were to indulge
his resentment so far as to take his customer's head instead
of his sago and bananas. These considerations reduce the
Tami to a painful dilemma. If they gratify the ghost
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page293" id="page293"></a>[pg 293]</span>
they lose a customer; if they keep the customer they must
bitterly offend the ghost, who will punish them for their
disrespect to his memory. In this delicate position the
Tami endeavour to make the best of both worlds. On
the one hand, by loudly professing their wrath and
indignation against the guilty sorcerer they endeavour to
appease the ghost; and on the other hand, by leaving
the villain unmolested they do nothing to alienate their
customers.<a id="footnotetag472" name="footnotetag472"></a><a href="#footnote472"><sup>472</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Funeral and mourning customs of the Tami.</p>

<p>But if they do not gratify the desire for vengeance of
the blood-thirsty ghost, they are at great pains to testify
their respect for him in all other ways. The whole village
takes part in the mourning and lamentation for a death.
The women dance death dances, the men lend a hand in
the preparations for the burial. All festivities are stopped:
the drums are silent. As the people believe that when
anybody has died, the ghosts of his dead kinsfolk gather
in the village and are joined by other ghosts, they are
careful not to leave the mourners alone, exposed to the
too pressing attentions of the spectral visitors; they keep
the bereaved family company, especially at night; indeed,
if the weather be fine, the whole population of the village
will encamp round the temporary hut which is built on the
grave. This watch at the grave lasts about eight days.
The watchers are supported and comforted in the discharge
of their pious duty by a liberal allowance of food and drink.
Nor are the wants of the ghost himself forgotten. Many
families offer him taro broth at this time. The period of
mourning lasts two or three years. During the first year the
observances prescribed by custom are strictly followed, and
the nearest relations must avoid publicity. After a year
they are allowed more freedom; for example, the widow
may lay aside the heavy net, which is her costume in full
mourning, and may replace it by a lighter one; moreover,
she may quit the house. At the end of the long period of
mourning, dances are danced in honour of the deceased.
They begin in the evening and last all night till daybreak.
The mourners on these occasions smear their heads, necks,
and breasts with black earth. A great quantity of food,
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page294" id="page294"></a>[pg 294]</span>
particularly of pigs and taro broth, has been made ready;
for the whole village, and perhaps a neighbouring village
also, has been invited to share in the festivity, which
may last eight or ten days, if the provisions suffice. The
dances begin with a gravity and solemnity appropriate to a
memorial of the dead; but towards the close the performers
indulge in a lighter vein and act comic pieces, which so
tickle the fancy of the spectators, that many of them roll
on the ground with laughter. Finally, the temporary hut
erected on the grave is taken down and the materials
burned. As the other ghosts of the village are believed
to be present in attendance on the one who is the guest of
honour, all the villagers bring offerings and throw them
into the fire. However, persons who are not related to the
ghosts may snatch the offerings from the flames and convert
them to their own use. Precious objects, such as boars'
tusks and dogs' teeth, are not committed to the fire but
merely swung over it in a bag, while the name of the
person who offers the valuables in this economical fashion
is proclaimed aloud for the satisfaction of the ghost. With
these dances, pantomimes, and offerings the living have
discharged the last duties of respect and affection to the
dead. Yet for a while his ghost is thought to linger as a
domestic or household spirit; but the time comes when he
is wholly forgotten.<a id="footnotetag473" name="footnotetag473"></a><a href="#footnote473"><sup>473</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Bones of the dead dug up and kept in the house for a time.</p>

<p>Many families, however, not content with the observance
of these ordinary ceremonies, dig up the bodies of
their dead when the flesh has mouldered away, redden the
bones with ochre, and keep them bundled up in the house
for two or three years, when these relics of mortality are
finally committed to the earth. The intention of thus
preserving the bones for years in the house is not mentioned,
but no doubt it is to maintain a closer intimacy with the
departed spirit than seems possible if his skeleton is left to
rot in the grave. When he is at last laid in the ground,
the tomb is enclosed by a strong wooden fence and planted
with ornamental shrubs. Yet in the course of years, as
the memory of the deceased fades away, his grave is
neglected, the fence decays, the shrubs run wild; another
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page295" id="page295"></a>[pg 295]</span>
generation, which knew him not, will build a house on the
spot, and if in digging the foundations they turn up his
bleached and mouldering bones, it is nothing to them: why
should they trouble themselves about the spirit of a man
or woman whose very name is forgotten?<a id="footnotetag474" name="footnotetag474"></a><a href="#footnote474"><sup>474</sup></a></p>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote450" name="footnote450"></a><b>Footnote 450:</b><a href="#footnotetag450"> (return) </a><p>Ch. Keysser, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 142 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote451" name="footnote451"></a><b>Footnote 451:</b><a href="#footnotetag451"> (return) </a><p>Ch. Keysser, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 143.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote452" name="footnote452"></a><b>Footnote 452:</b><a href="#footnotetag452"> (return) </a><p>Ch. Keysser, <i>l.c.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote453" name="footnote453"></a><b>Footnote 453:</b><a href="#footnotetag453"> (return) </a><p>Ch. Keysser, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 143 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote454" name="footnote454"></a><b>Footnote 454:</b><a href="#footnotetag454"> (return) </a><p>Ch. Keysser, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 62 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote455" name="footnote455"></a><b>Footnote 455:</b><a href="#footnotetag455"> (return) </a><p>Ch. Keysser, pp. 64 <i>sqq.</i>, 147 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote456" name="footnote456"></a><b>Footnote 456:</b><a href="#footnotetag456"> (return) </a><p>Ch. Keysser, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 132.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote457" name="footnote457"></a><b>Footnote 457:</b><a href="#footnotetag457"> (return) </a><p>Ch. Keysser, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 148.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote458" name="footnote458"></a><b>Footnote 458:</b><a href="#footnotetag458"> (return) </a><p>Ch. Keysser, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 148 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote459" name="footnote459"></a><b>Footnote 459:</b><a href="#footnotetag459"> (return) </a><p>Ch. Keysser, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 149.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote460" name="footnote460"></a><b>Footnote 460:</b><a href="#footnotetag460"> (return) </a><p>Ch. Keysser, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 147.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote461" name="footnote461"></a><b>Footnote 461:</b><a href="#footnotetag461"> (return) </a><p>Ch. Keysser, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 145.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote462" name="footnote462"></a><b>Footnote 462:</b><a href="#footnotetag462"> (return) </a><p>Ch. Keysser, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 145.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote463" name="footnote463"></a><b>Footnote 463:</b><a href="#footnotetag463"> (return) </a><p>Ch. Keysser, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 145 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote464" name="footnote464"></a><b>Footnote 464:</b><a href="#footnotetag464"> (return) </a><p>Ch. Keysser, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 149 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote465" name="footnote465"></a><b>Footnote 465:</b><a href="#footnotetag465"> (return) </a><p>Ch. Keysser, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 112, 150 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote466" name="footnote466"></a><b>Footnote 466:</b><a href="#footnotetag466"> (return) </a><p> Ch. Keysser, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 151-154. In this passage
the ghosts are spoken of simply as spirits (<i>Geister</i>); but the
context proves that the spirits in question are those of the dead.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote467" name="footnote467"></a><b>Footnote 467:</b><a href="#footnotetag467"> (return) </a><p>Ch. Keysser, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 34-40.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote468" name="footnote468"></a><b>Footnote 468:</b><a href="#footnotetag468"> (return) </a><p> G. Bamler, "Tami," in R. Neuhauss's <i>Deutsch
Neu-Guinea</i>, iii. (Berlin, 1911) p. 489; compare <i>ib.</i> p. vii.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote469" name="footnote469"></a><b>Footnote 469:</b><a href="#footnotetag469"> (return) </a><p> H. Zahn, "Die Jabim," in R. Neuhauss's <i>Deutsch
Neu-Guinea</i>, iii. 315 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote470" name="footnote470"></a><b>Footnote 470:</b><a href="#footnotetag470"> (return) </a><p>G. Bamler, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 518.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote471" name="footnote471"></a><b>Footnote 471:</b><a href="#footnotetag471"> (return) </a><p>G. Bamler, <i>l.c.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote472" name="footnote472"></a><b>Footnote 472:</b><a href="#footnotetag472"> (return) </a><p>G. Bamler, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 518 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote473" name="footnote473"></a><b>Footnote 473:</b><a href="#footnotetag473"> (return) </a><p>G. Bamler, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 519-522.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote474" name="footnote474"></a><b>Footnote 474:</b><a href="#footnotetag474"> (return) </a><p>G. Bamler, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 518.</p></blockquote>

<span class="pagenum"><a name="page296" id="page296"></a>[pg 296]</span>




<h2><a name="lecture-xiv" id="lecture-xiv"></a>LECTURE XIV</h2>

<h3>THE BELIEF IN IMMORTALITY AMONG THE NATIVES
OF GERMAN AND DUTCH NEW GUINEA</h3>


<p class="side">The Tami doctrine of souls and gods. The Tago spirits,
represented by masked men.</p>

<p>At the close of the last lecture I dealt with the Tami, a
people of Melanesian stock who inhabit a group of islands
off the mainland of New Guinea. I explained their theory
of the human soul. According to them, every man has
two distinct souls, a long one and a short one, both of
which survive his death, but depart in different directions,
one of them repairing to the lower world, and the other
being last sighted off the coast of New Britain. But the
knowledge which these savages possess of the spiritual
world is not limited to the souls of men; they are acquainted
with several deities (<i>buwun</i>), who live in the
otherwise uninhabited island of Djan. They are beings
of an amorous disposition, and though their real shape
is that of a fish's body with a human head, they can take
on the form of men in order to seduce women. They
also cause epidemics and earthquakes; yet the people
shew them no respect, for they believe them to be dull-witted
as well as lecherous. At most, if a fearful epidemic
is raging, they will offer the gods a lean little pig or a
mangy cur; and should an earthquake last longer than
usual they will rap on the ground, saying, "Hullo, you
down there! easy a little! We men are still here." They
also profess acquaintance with a god named Anuto, who
created the heaven and the earth together with the first
man and woman. He is a good being; nobody need be
afraid of him. At festivals and meat markets the Tami
offer him the first portion in a little basket, which a lad
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page297" id="page297"></a>[pg 297]</span>
carries away into the wood and leaves there. As usual,
the deity consumes only the soul of the offering; the bearer
eats the material substance.<a id="footnotetag475" name="footnotetag475"></a><a href="#footnote475"><sup>475</sup></a> The Tami further believe
in certain spirits called Tago which are very old, having
been created at the same time as the village. Every
family or clan possesses its own familiar spirits of this
class. They are represented by men who disguise their
bodies in dense masses of sago leaves and their faces in
grotesque masks with long hooked noses. In this costume
the maskers jig it as well as the heavy unwieldy disguise
allows them to do. But the dance consists in little more
than running round and round in a circle, with an occasional
hop; the orchestra stands in the middle, singing and
thumping drums. Sometimes two or three of the masked
men will make a round of the village, pelting the men
with pebbles or hard fruits, while the women and children
scurry out of their way. When they are not in use the
masks are hidden away in a hut in the forest, which women
and children may not approach. Their secret is sternly
kept: any betrayal of it is punished with death. The
season for the exhibition of these masked dances recurs
only once in ten or twelve years, but it extends over a
year or thereabout. During the whole of the dancing-season,
curiously enough, coco-nuts are strictly tabooed;
no person may eat them, so that the unused nuts
accumulate in thousands. As coco-nuts ordinarily form
a daily article of diet with the Tami, their prohibition
for a year is felt by the people as a privation. The
meaning of the prohibition and also of the masquerades
remains obscure.<a id="footnotetag476" name="footnotetag476"></a><a href="#footnote476"><sup>476</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">The superhuman beings with whom the Tami are chiefly
concerned are the souls of the dead. Offerings to the dead.</p>

<p>But while the Tami believe in gods and spirits of
various sorts, the superhuman beings with whom they chiefly
concern themselves are the souls of the dead. On this
subject Mr. Bamler writes: "All the spirits whom we have
thus far described are of little importance in the life and
thought of the Tami; they are remembered only on
special occasions. The spirits who fill the thoughts and
attract the attention of the Tami are the <i>kani</i>, that is,
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page298" id="page298"></a>[pg 298]</span>
the souls of the departed. The Tami therefore practise
the worship of ancestors. Yet the memory of ancestors
does not reach far back; people occupy themselves only
with the souls of those relatives whom they have personally
known. Hence the worship seldom extends beyond the
grandfather, even when a knowledge of more remote
progenitors survives.  An offering to the ancestors takes
the form of a little dish of boiled taro, a cigar, betel-nuts,
and the like; but the spirits partake only of the image
or soul of the things offered, while the material substance
falls to the share of mankind. There is no fixed rule
as to the manner or time of the offering. It is left to
the caprice or childlike affection of the individual to decide
how he will make it. With most natives it is a simple
matter of business, the throwing of a sprat to catch a
salmon; the man brings his offering only when he needs
the help of the spirits. There is very little ceremony about
it. The offerer will say, for example, 'There, I lay a cigar
for you; smoke it and hereafter drive fish towards me';
or, 'Accompany me on the journey, and see to it that I
do good business.' The place where the food is presented
is the shelf for pots and dishes under the roof. Thus
they imagine that the spirits exert a tolerably far-reaching
influence over all created things, and it is their notion
that the spirits take possession of the objects. In like
manner the spirits can injure a man by thwarting his plans,
for example, by frightening away the fish, blighting the
fruits of the fields, and so forth. If the native is forced to
conclude that the spirits are against him, he has no hesitation
about deceiving them in the grossest manner. Should the
requisite sacrifices be inconvenient to him, he flatly refuses
them, or gives the shabbiest things he can find. In all
this the native displays the same craft and cunning which
he is apt to practise in his dealings with the whites. He
fears the power which the spirit has over him, yet he tries
whether he cannot outwit the spirit like an arrant block-head."<a id="footnotetag477" name="footnotetag477"></a><a href="#footnote477"><sup>477</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Crude motives for sacrifice.</p>

<p>This account of the crude but quite intelligible motives
which lead these savages to sacrifice to the spirits of their
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page299" id="page299"></a>[pg 299]</span>
dead may be commended to the attention of writers on the
history of religion who read into primitive sacrifice certain
subtle and complex ideas which it never entered into the
mind of primitive man to conceive and which, even if they
were explained to him, he would in all probability be
totally unable to understand.</p>

<p class="side">Lamboam, the land of the dead.</p>

<p>According to the Tami, the souls of the dead live in
the nether world. The spirit-land is called Lamboam; the
entrance to it is by a cleft in a rock. The natives of the
mainland also call Hades by the name of Lamboam; but
whereas according to them every village has its own little
Lamboam, the Tami hold that there is only one big Lamboam
for everybody, though it is subdivided into many mansions,
of which every village has one to itself. In Lamboam everything
is fairer and more perfect than on earth. The fruits
are so plentiful that the blessed spirits can, if they choose,
give themselves up to the delights of idleness; the villages
are full of ornamental plants. Yet on the other hand we
are informed that life beneath the ground is very like
life above it: people work and marry, they squabble and
wrangle, they fall sick and even die, just as people do on
earth. Souls which die the second death in Lamboam are
changed into vermin, such as ants and worms; however,
others say that they turn into wood-spirits, who do men a
mischief in the fields. It is not so easy as is commonly
supposed to effect an entrance into the spirit-land. You
must pass a river, and even when you have crossed it you
will be very likely to suffer from the practical jokes which
the merry old ghosts play on a raw newcomer. A very
favourite trick of theirs is to send him up a pandanus tree to
look for fruit. If he is simple enough to comply, they catch
him by the legs as he is swarming up the trunk and drag him
down, so that his whole body is fearfully scratched, if not
quite ripped up, by the rough bark. That is why people
put valuable things with the dead in the grave, in order that
their ghosts on arrival in Lamboam may have the wherewithal
to purchase the good graces of the facetious old stagers.<a id="footnotetag478" name="footnotetag478"></a><a href="#footnote478"><sup>478</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Return of the ghosts to earth, sometimes in the form of
serpents.</p>

<p>However, even when the ghosts have succeeded in effecting
a lodgment in Lamboam, they are not strictly confined
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page300" id="page300"></a>[pg 300]</span>
to it. They can break bounds at any moment and return
to the upper air. This they do particularly when any of
their surviving relations is at the point of death. Ghosts of
deceased kinsfolk and of others gather round the parting soul
and attend it to the far country. Yet sometimes, apparently,
the soul sets out alone, for the anxious relatives will call out
to it, "Miss not the way." But ghosts visit their surviving
friends at other times than at the moment of death. For
example, some families possess the power of calling up spirits
in the form of serpents from the vasty deep. The spirits
whom they evoke are usually those of persons who have died
quite lately; for such ghosts cannot return to earth except
in the guise of serpents. In this novel shape they naturally
feel shy and hide under a mat. They come out only in the
dusk of the evening or the darkness of night and sit on the
shelf for pots and dishes under the roof. They have lost
the faculty of speech and can express themselves only in
whistles. These whistles the seer, who is generally a woman,
understands perfectly and interprets to his or her less gifted
fellows. In this way a considerable body of information,
more or less accurate in detail, is collected as to life in the
other world. More than that, it is even possible for men,
and especially for women, to go down alive into the nether
world and prosecute their enquiries at first hand among the
ghosts. Women who possess this remarkable faculty transmit
it to their daughters, so that the profession is hereditary.
When anybody wishes to ascertain how it fares with one of
his dead kinsfolk in Lamboam, he has nothing to do but to
engage the services of one of these professional mediums,
giving her something which belonged to his departed friend.
The medium rubs her forehead with ginger, muttering an
incantation, lies down on the dead man's property, and falls
asleep. Her soul then goes down in a dream to deadland
and elicits from the ghosts the required information, which
on waking from sleep she imparts to the anxious enquirer.<a id="footnotetag479" name="footnotetag479"></a><a href="#footnote479"><sup>479</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Sickness caused by a spirit.</p>

<p>Sickness accompanied by fainting fits is ascribed to the
action of a spirit, it may be the ghost of a near relation, who
has carried off the "long soul" of the sufferer. The truant
soul is recalled by a blast blown on a triton-shell, in which
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page301" id="page301"></a>[pg 301]</span>
some chewed ginger or <i>massoi</i> bark has been inserted. The
booming sound attracts the attention of the vagrant spirit,
while the smell of the bark or of the ginger drives away
the ghost.<a id="footnotetag480" name="footnotetag480"></a><a href="#footnote480"><sup>480</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Tami lads supposed to be swallowed by a monster at
circumcision; the monster and the bull-roarer are both called
<i>kani</i>.</p>

<p>The name which the Tami give to the spirits of the dead
is <i>kani</i>; but like other tribes in this part of New Guinea
they apply the same term to the bull-roarer and also to the
mythical monster who is supposed to swallow the lads at
circumcision. The identity of the name for the three things
seems to prove that in the mind of the Tami the initiatory
rites, of which circumcision is the principal feature, are closely
associated with their conception of the state of the human
soul after death, though what the precise nature of the
association may be still remains obscure. Like their neighbours
on the mainland of New Guinea, the Tami give out
that the novices at initiation are swallowed by a monster or
dragon, who only consents to disgorge his prey in consideration
of a tribute of pigs, the rate of the tribute being one
novice one pig. In the act of disgorging the lad the dragon
bites him, and the bite is visible to all in the cut called
circumcision. The voice of the monster is heard in the hum
of the bull-roarers, which are swung at the ceremony in such
numbers and with such force that in still weather the booming
sound may be heard across the sea for many miles. To
impress women and children with an idea of the superhuman
strength of the dragon deep grooves are cut in the trunks of
trees and afterwards exhibited to the uninitiated as the marks
made by the monster in tugging at the ropes which bound
him to the trees. However, the whole thing is an open
secret to the married women, though they keep their knowledge
to themselves, fearing to incur the penalty of death
which is denounced upon all who betray the mystery.</p>

<p class="side">The rite of circumcision. Seclusion and return of the newly
circumcised lads.</p>

<p>The initiatory rites are now celebrated only at intervals
of many years.  When the time is come for the ceremony,
women are banished from the village and special quarters
prepared for them elsewhere; for they are strictly forbidden
to set foot in the village while the monster or spirit who
swallows the lads has his abode in it. A special hut is then
built for the accommodation of the novices during the many
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page302" id="page302"></a>[pg 302]</span>
months which they spend in seclusion before and after the
operation of circumcision. The hut represents the monster;
it consists of a framework of thin poles covered with palm-leaf
mats and tapering down at one end. Looked at from a
distance it resembles a whale. The backbone is composed
of a betel-nut palm, which has been grubbed up with its
roots. The root with its fibres represents the monster's head
and hair, and under it are painted a pair of eyes and a great
mouth in red, white, and black. The passage of the novices
into the monster's belly is represented by causing them to
defile past a row of men who hold bull-roarers aloft over the
heads of the candidates. Before this march past takes place,
each of the candidates is struck by the chief with a bull-roarer
on his chin and brow. The operation of circumcising
the lads is afterwards performed behind a screen set up near
the monster-shaped house. It is followed by a great feast
on swine's flesh. After their wounds are healed the circumcised
lads have still to remain in seclusion for three or four
months. Finally, they are brought back to the village with
great pomp. For this solemn ceremony their faces, necks,
and breasts are whitened with a thick layer of chalk, while
red stripes, painted round their mouths and eyes and prolonged
to the ears, add to the grotesqueness of their appearance.
Their eyes are closed with a plaster of chalk, and
thus curiously arrayed and blindfolded they are led back to
the village square, where leave is formally given them to
open their eyes. At the entrance to the village they are
received by the women, who weep for joy and strew boiled
field-fruits on the way. Next morning the newly initiated lads
wash off the crust of chalk, and have their hair, faces, necks,
and breasts painted bright red. This ends their time of
seclusion, which has lasted five or six months; they now
rank as full-grown men.<a id="footnotetag481" name="footnotetag481"></a><a href="#footnote481"><sup>481</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Simulation of death and resurrection.</p>

<p>In these initiatory rites, as in the similar rites of the
neighbouring tribes on the mainland of New Guinea, we may
perhaps detect a simulation of death and of resurrection to a
new and higher life. But why circumcision should form
the central feature of such a drama is a question to which
as yet no certain or even very probable answer can be given.
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page303" id="page303"></a>[pg 303]</span>
The bodily mutilations of various sorts, which in many
savage tribes mark the transition from boyhood to manhood,
remain one of the obscurest features in the life of uncultured
races. That they are in most cases connected with the
great change which takes place in the sexes at puberty
seems fairly certain; but we are far from understanding the
ideas which primitive man has formed on this mysterious
subject.</p>

<p class="side">The natives of Dutch New Guinea.</p>

<p>That ends what I have to say as to the notions of death
and a life hereafter which are entertained by the natives of
German New Guinea. We now turn to the natives of Dutch
New Guinea, who occupy roughly speaking the western half
of the great island. Our information as to their customs
and beliefs on this subject is much scantier, and accordingly
my account of them will be much briefer.</p>

<p class="side">Geelvink Bay and Doreh Bay. The Noofoor or Noomfor people.
Their material culture and arts of life.</p>

<p>Towards the western end of the Dutch possession there
is on the northern coast a deep and wide indentation known
as Geelvink Bay, which in its north-west corner includes
a very much smaller indentation known as Doreh Bay.
Scattered about in the waters of the great Geelvink Bay are
many islands of various sizes, such as Biak or Wiak, Jappen
or Jobi, Run or Ron, Noomfor, and many more. It is in
regard to the natives who inhabit the coasts or islands of
Geelvink Bay that our information is perhaps least imperfect,
and it is accordingly with them that I shall begin. In
physical appearance, expression of the face, mode of wearing
the hair, and still more in manners and customs these
natives of the coast and islands differ from the natives of
the mountains in the interior. The name given to them by
Dutch and German writers is Noofoor or Noomfor. Their
original home is believed to be the island of Biak or Wiak,
which lies at the northern entrance of the bay, and from
which they are supposed to have spread southwards and
south-westwards to the other islands and to the mainland of
New Guinea.<a id="footnotetag482" name="footnotetag482"></a><a href="#footnote482"><sup>482</sup></a> They are a handsomely built race. Their
colour is usually dark brown, but in some individuals it
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page304" id="page304"></a>[pg 304]</span>
shades off to light-brown, while in others it deepens into
black-brown. The forehead is high and narrow; the eye is
dark brown or black with a lively expression; the nose
broad and flat, the lips thick and projecting. The cheekbones
are not very high. The facial angle agrees with that
of Europeans. The hair is abundant and frizzly. The
people live in settled villages and subsist by agriculture,
hunting, and fishing. Their large communal houses are
raised above the ground on piles; on the coast they are
built over the water. Each house has a long gallery, one in
front and one behind, and a long passage running down the
middle of the dwelling, with the rooms arranged on either
side of it. Each room has its own fireplace and is occupied
by a single family. One such communal house may contain
from ten to twenty families with a hundred or more men,
women, and children, besides dogs, fowls, parrots, and other
creatures. When the house is built over the water, it is
commonly connected with the shore by a bridge; but in
some places no such bridge exists, and at high water the
inmates can only communicate with the shore by means of
their canoes. The staple food of the people is sago, which
they extract from the sago-palm; but they also make use of
bread-fruit, together with millet, rice, and maize, whenever they
can obtain these cereals. Their flesh diet includes wild pigs,
birds, fish, and trepang. While some of them subsist mainly
by fishing and commerce, others devote themselves almost
exclusively to the cultivation of their gardens, which they
lay out in clearings of the dense tropical forest, employing
chiefly axes and chopping-knives as their instruments of
tillage. Of ploughs they, like most savages, seem to know
nothing. The rice and other plants which they raise in
these gardens are produced by the dry method of cultivation.
In hunting birds they employ chiefly bows and arrows, but
sometimes also snares. The arrows with which they shoot
the birds of paradise are blunted so as not to injure the
splendid plumage of the birds. Turtle-shells, feathers of the
birds of paradise, and trepang are among the principal
articles which they barter with traders for cotton-goods,
knives, swords, axes, beads and so forth. They display
some skill and taste in wood-carving. The art of working
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page305" id="page305"></a>[pg 305]</span>
in iron has been introduced among them from abroad and
is now extensively practised by the men. They make large
dug-out canoes with outriggers, which seem to be very seaworthy,
for they accomplish long voyages even in stormy
weather. The making of pottery, basket-work, and weaving,
together with pounding rice and cooking food, are the special
business of women. The men wear waistbands or loin-cloths
made of bark, which is beaten till it becomes as supple as
leather. The women wear petticoats or strips of blue cotton
round their loins, and as ornaments they have rings of silver,
copper, or shell on their arms and legs.<a id="footnotetag483" name="footnotetag483"></a><a href="#footnote483"><sup>483</sup></a> Thus the people
have attained to a fair degree of barbaric culture.</p>

<p class="side">Fear of ghosts. Ideas of the spirit-world.</p>

<p>Now it is significant that among these comparatively
advanced savages the fear of ghosts and the reverence
entertained for them have developed into something which
might almost be called a systematic worship of the dead.
As to their fear of ghosts I will quote the evidence of a
Dutch missionary, Mr. J. L. van Hasselt, who lived for many
years among them and is the author of a grammar and
dictionary of their language. He says: "That a great fear
of ghosts prevails among the Papuans is intelligible. Even
by day they are reluctant to pass a grave, but nothing
would induce them to do so by night. For the dead
are then roaming about in their search for gambier and
tobacco, and they may also sail out to sea in a canoe.
Some of the departed, above all the so-called <i>Mambrie</i> or
heroes, inspire them with especial fear. In such cases for
some days after the burial you may hear about sunset a
simultaneous and horrible din in all the houses of all the
villages, a yelling, screaming, beating and throwing of sticks;
happily the uproar does not last long: its intention is to
compel the ghost to take himself off: they have given him
all that befits him, namely, a grave, a funeral banquet, and
funeral ornaments; and now they beseech him not to thrust
himself on their observation any more, not to breathe any
sickness upon the survivors, and not to kill them or 'fetch'
them, as the Papuans put it. Their ideas of the spirit-world
are very vague. Their usual answer to such questions is,
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page306" id="page306"></a>[pg 306]</span>
'We know not.' If you press them, they will commonly
say that the spirit realm is under the earth or under the
bottom of the sea. Everything there is as it is in the upper
world, only the vegetation down below is more luxuriant, and
all plants grow faster. Their fear of death and their helpless
wailing over the dead indicate that the misty kingdom of
the shades offers but little that is consolatory to the Papuan
at his departure from this world."<a id="footnotetag484" name="footnotetag484"></a><a href="#footnote484"><sup>484</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Fear of ghosts in general and of the ghosts of the slain in
particular.</p>

<p>Again, speaking of the natives of Doreh, a Dutch official
observes that "superstition and magic play a principal part
in the life of the Papuan. Occasions for such absurdities he
discovers at every step. Thus he cherishes a great fear of
the ghosts of slain persons, for which reason their bodies
remain unburied on the spot where they were murdered.
When a murder has taken place in the village, the inhabitants
assemble for several evenings in succession and raise
a fearful outcry in order to chase away the soul, in case it
should be minded to return to the village. They set up
miniature wooden houses here and there on trees in the
forest for the ghosts of persons who die of disease or through
accidents, believing that the souls take up their abode in
them."<a id="footnotetag485" name="footnotetag485"></a><a href="#footnote485"><sup>485</sup></a> The same writer remarks that these savages have
no priests, but that they have magicians (<i>kokinsor</i>), who
practise exorcisms, work magic, and heal the sick, for which
they receive a small payment in articles of barter or food.<a id="footnotetag486" name="footnotetag486"></a><a href="#footnote486"><sup>486</sup></a>
Speaking of the Papuans of Dutch New Guinea in general
another writer informs us that "they honour the memory of
the dead in every way, because they ascribe to the spirits of
the departed a great influence on the life of the survivors....
Whereas in life all good and evil comes from the soul,
after death, on the other hand, the spirit works for the most
part only evil. It loves especially to haunt by night the
neighbourhood of its old dwelling and the grave; so the
people particularly avoid the neighbourhood of graves at
night, and when darkness has fallen they will not go out
except with a burning brand.... According to the belief
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page307" id="page307"></a>[pg 307]</span>
of the Papuans the ghosts cause sickness, bad harvests, war,
and in general every misfortune. From fear of such evils
and in order to keep them in good humour, the people make
provision for the spirits of the departed after death. Also
they sacrifice to them before every important undertaking
and never fail to ask their advice."<a id="footnotetag487" name="footnotetag487"></a><a href="#footnote487"><sup>487</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Papuan ideas as to the state of the dead.</p>

<p>A Dutch writer, who has given us a comparatively full
account of the natives of Geelvink Bay, describes as follows
their views in regard to the state of the dead: "According
to the Papuans the soul, which they imagine to have its seat
in the blood, continues to exist at the bottom of the sea,
and every one who dies goes thither. They imagine the
state of things there to be much the same as that in which
they lived on earth. Hence at his burial the dead man is
given an equipment suitable to his rank and position in life.
He is provided with a bow and arrow, armlets and body-ornaments,
pots and pans, everything that may stand him in
good stead in the life hereafter. This provision must not
be neglected, for it is a prevalent opinion that the dead
continue always to maintain relations with the world and
with the living, that they possess superhuman power, exercise
great influence over the affairs of life on earth, and are able
to protect in danger, to stand by in war, to guard against
shipwreck at sea, and to grant success in fishing and hunting.
For such weighty reasons the Papuans do all in their power
to win the favour of their dead. On undertaking a journey
they are said never to forget to hang amulets about themselves
in the belief that their dead will then surely help
them; hence, too, when they are at sea in rough weather,
they call upon the souls of the departed, asking them for
better weather or a favourable breeze, in case the wind
happens to be contrary."<a id="footnotetag488" name="footnotetag488"></a><a href="#footnote488"><sup>488</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Wooden images of the dead (<i>korwar</i>).</p>

<p>In order to communicate with these powerful spirits and
to obtain their advice and help in time of need, the Papuans
of Geelvink Bay make wooden images of their dead, which
they keep in their houses and consult from time to time.
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page308" id="page308"></a>[pg 308]</span>
Every family has at least one such ancestral image, which
forms the medium whereby the soul of the deceased communicates
with his or her surviving relatives. These images
or Penates, as we may call them, are carved of wood, about
a foot high, and represent the deceased person in a standing,
sitting, or crouching attitude, but commonly with the hands
folded in front. The head is disproportionately large, the
nose long and projecting, the mouth wide and well furnished
with teeth; the eyes are formed of large green or blue
beads with black dots to indicate the pupils. Sometimes
the male figures carry a shield in the left hand and brandish
a sword in the right; while the female figures are represented
grasping with both hands a serpent which stands on
its coiled tail. Rags of many colours adorn these figures,
and the hair of the deceased, whom they represent, is placed
between their legs. Such an ancestral image is called a
<i>korwar</i> or <i>karwar</i>. The natives identify these effigies with
the deceased persons whom they portray, and accordingly
they will speak of one as their father or mother or other
relation. Tobacco and food are offered to the images, and
the natives greet them reverentially by bowing to the earth
before them with the two hands joined and raised to the
forehead.</p>

<p class="side">Such images carried on voyages and consulted as oracles. The
images consulted in sickness.</p>

<p>Such images are kept in the houses and carried in canoes
on voyages, in order that they may be at hand to help and
advise their kinsfolk and worshippers. They are consulted on
many occasions, for example, when the people are going on
a journey, or about to fish for turtles or trepang, or when a
member of the family is sick, and his relations wish to know
whether he will recover. At these consultations the enquirer
may either take the image in his hands or crouch before it
on the ground, on which he places his offerings of tobacco,
cotton, beads, and so forth. The spirit of the dead is
thought to be in the image and to pass from it into the
enquirer, who thus becomes inspired by the soul of the
deceased and acquires his superhuman knowledge. As a
sign of his inspiration the medium shivers and shakes.
According to some accounts, however, this shivering and
shaking of the medium is an evil omen; whereas if he
remains tranquil, the omen is good. It is especially in cases
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page309" id="page309"></a>[pg 309]</span>
of sickness that the images are consulted. The mode of
consultation has been described as follows by a Dutch
writer: "When any one is sick and wishes to know the
means of cure, or when any one desires to avert misfortune
or to discover something unknown, then in presence of the
whole family one of the members is stupefied by the fumes
of incense or by other means of producing a state of trance.
The image of the deceased person whose advice is sought is
then placed on the lap or shoulder of the medium in order
to cause the soul to pass out of the image into his body.
At the moment when that happens, he begins to shiver;
and, encouraged by the bystanders, the soul speaks through
the mouth of the medium and names the means of cure
or of averting the calamity. When he comes to himself,
the medium knows nothing of what he has been saying.
This they call <i>kor karwar</i>, that is, 'invoking the soul;'
and they say <i>karwar iwos</i>, 'the soul speaks.'"  The
writer adds: "It is sometimes reported that the souls go
to the underworld, but that is not true.  The Papuans
think that after death the soul abides by the corpse and
is buried with it in the grave; hence before an image is
made, if it is necessary to consult the soul, the enquirer must
betake himself to the grave in order to do so. But when
the image is made, the soul enters into it and is supposed to
remain in it so long as satisfactory answers are obtained
from it in consultation. But should the answers prove
disappointing, the people think that the soul has deserted
the image, on which they throw the image away as useless.
Where the soul has gone, nobody knows, and they do not
trouble their heads about it, since it has lost its power."<a id="footnotetag489" name="footnotetag489"></a><a href="#footnote489"><sup>489</sup></a>
The person who acts as medium in consulting the spirit may
be either the house-father himself or a magician (<i>konoor</i>).<a id="footnotetag490" name="footnotetag490"></a><a href="#footnote490"><sup>490</sup></a></p>

<span class="pagenum"><a name="page310" id="page310"></a>[pg 310]</span>

<p class="side">Example of the consultation of an ancestral image.</p>

<p>As an example of these consultations we may take
the case of a man who was suffering from a painful sore on
his finger and wished to ascertain the cause of the trouble.
So he set one of the ancestral images before him and
questioned it closely. At first the image made no reply;
but at last the man remembered that he had neglected his
duty to his dead brother by failing to marry his widow, as,
according to native custom, he should have done. Now the
natives believe that the dead can punish them for any
breach of customary law; so it occurred to our enquirer that
the ghost of his dead brother might have afflicted him with
the sore on his finger for not marrying his widow. Accordingly
he put the question to the image, and in doing so the compunction
of a guilty conscience caused him to tremble. This
trembling he took for an answer of the image in the affirmative,
wherefore he went off and took the widow to wife and
provided for her maintenance.<a id="footnotetag491" name="footnotetag491"></a><a href="#footnote491"><sup>491</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Ancestral images consulted as to the cause of death.
Offerings to the images.</p>

<p>Again, the ancestral images are often consulted to ascertain
the cause of a death; and if the image attributes the death to
the evil magic of a member of another tribe, an expedition
will be sent to avenge the wrong by slaying the supposed
culprit.  For the souls of the dead take it very ill and wreak
their spite on the survivors, if their death is not avenged on
their enemies.  Not uncommonly the consultation of the
images merely furnishes a pretext for satisfying a grudge
against an individual or a tribe.<a id="footnotetag492" name="footnotetag492"></a><a href="#footnote492"><sup>492</sup></a> The mere presence of
these images appears to be supposed to benefit the sick; a
woman who was seriously ill has been seen to lie with four
or five ancestral figures fastened at the head of her bed. On
enquiry she explained that they did not all belong to her,
but that some of them had been kindly lent to her by
relations and friends.<a id="footnotetag493" name="footnotetag493"></a><a href="#footnote493"><sup>493</sup></a> Again, the images are taken by the
natives with them to war, because they hope thereby to
secure the help of the spirits whom the images represent.
Also they make offerings from time to time to the effigies
and hold feasts in their honour.<a id="footnotetag494" name="footnotetag494"></a><a href="#footnote494"><sup>494</sup></a> They observe, indeed,
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page311" id="page311"></a>[pg 311]</span>
that the food which they present to these household
idols remains unconsumed, but they explain this by saying
that the spirits are content to snuff up the savour
of the viands, and to leave their gross material substance
alone.<a id="footnotetag495" name="footnotetag495"></a><a href="#footnote495"><sup>495</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Images of persons who have died away from home.</p>

<p>In general, images are only made of persons who have
died at home. But in the island of Ron or Run they are
also made of persons who have died away from home or
have fallen in battle. In such cases the difficulty is to
compel the soul to quit its mortal remains far away and
come to animate the image. However, the natives of Ron
have found means to overcome this difficulty. They first
carve the wooden image of the dead person and then call
his soul back to the village by setting a great tree on fire,
while the family assemble round it and one of them, holding
the image in his hand, acts the part of a medium, shivering
and shaking and falling into a trance after the approved
fashion of mediums in many lands. After this ceremony
the image is supposed to be animated by the soul of the
deceased, and it is kept in the house with as much confidence
as any other.<a id="footnotetag496" name="footnotetag496"></a><a href="#footnote496"><sup>496</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Sometimes the head of the image is composed of the skull of
the deceased.</p>

<p>Sometimes the head of the image consists of the skull
of the deceased, which has been detached from the skeleton
and inserted in a hole at the top of the effigy.  In such
cases the body of the image is of wood and the head of
bone. It is especially men who have distinguished themselves
by their bravery or have earned a name for themselves
in other ways who are thus represented. Apparently
the notion is that as a personal relic of the departed the
skull is better fitted to retain his soul than a mere head of
wood.  But in the island of Ron or Run, and perhaps elsewhere,
skull-topped images of this sort are made for all firstborn
children, whether male or female, young or old, at least
for all who die from the age of twelve years and upward.
These images have a special name, <i>bemar boo</i>, which means
"head of a corpse." They are kept in the room of the
parents who have lost the child.<a id="footnotetag497" name="footnotetag497"></a><a href="#footnote497"><sup>497</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Mode of preparing such skull-headed images.</p>

<p>The mode in which such images are prepared is as
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page312" id="page312"></a>[pg 312]</span>
follows. The body of the firstborn child, who dies at the
age of years or upwards, is laid in a small canoe,
which is deposited in a hut erected behind the dwelling-house.
Here the mother is obliged to keep watch night
and day beside the corpse and to maintain a blazing fire
till the head drops off the body, which it generally does
about twenty days after the death. Then the trunk is
wrapped in leaves and buried, but the head is brought
into the house and carefully preserved. Above the spot
where it is deposited a small opening is made in the roof,
through which a stick is thrust bearing some rags or flags
to indicate that the remains of a dead body are in the
house. When, after the lapse of three or four months,
the nose and ears of the head have dropped off, and
the eyes have mouldered away, the relations and friends
assemble in the house of mourning. In the middle of the
assembly the father of the child crouches on his hams with
downcast look in an attitude of grief, while one of the
persons present begins to carve a new nose and a new pair
of ears for the skull out of a piece of wood. The kind of
wood varies according as the deceased was a male or a
female. All the time that the artist is at work, the rest of
the company chant a melancholy dirge. When the nose
and ears are finished and have been attached to the skull,
and small round fruits have been inserted in the hollow
sockets of the eyes to represent the missing orbs, a banquet
follows in honour of the deceased, who is now represented
by his decorated skull set up on a block of wood on the
table. Thus he receives his share of the food and of the
cigars, and is raised to the rank of a domestic idol or
<i>korwar</i>. Henceforth the skull is carefully kept in a corner
of the chamber to be consulted as an oracle in time of need.
The bodies of fathers and mothers are treated in the same
way as those of firstborn children. On the other hand the
bodies of children who die under the age of two years are
never buried. The remains are packed in baskets of rushes
covered with lids and tightly corded, and the baskets are
then hung on the branches of tall trees, where no more
notice is taken of them. Four or five such baskets containing
the mouldering bodies of infants may sometimes be seen
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page313" id="page313"></a>[pg 313]</span>
hanging on a single tree.<a id="footnotetag498" name="footnotetag498"></a><a href="#footnote498"><sup>498</sup></a> The reason for thus disposing
of the remains of young children is said to be as follows.
A thick mist hangs at evening over the top of the dense
tropical forest, and in the mist dwell two spirits called
Narwur and Imgier, one male and the other female, who
kill little children, not out of malice but out of love, because
they wish to have the children with them. So when a
child dies, the parents fasten its little body to the branches
of a tall tree in the forest, hoping that the spirit pair will
take it and be satisfied, and will spare its small brothers and
sisters.<a id="footnotetag499" name="footnotetag499"></a><a href="#footnote499"><sup>499</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Mummification of the dead.</p>

<p>In some parts of Geelvink Bay, however, the bodies of
the dead are treated differently. For example, on the
south coast of the island of Jobi or Jappen and elsewhere
the corpses are reduced to mummies by being dried on a
bamboo stage over a slow fire; after which the mummies,
wrapt in cloth, are kept in the house, being either laid along
the wall or hung from the ceiling. When the number of
these relics begins to incommode the living inmates of the
house, the older mummies are removed and deposited in the
hollow trunks of ancient trees. In some tribes who thus
mummify their dead the juices of corruption which drip
from the rotting corpse are caught in a vessel and given to
the widow to drink, who is forced to gulp them down under
the threat of decapitation if she were to reject the loathsome
beverage.<a id="footnotetag500" name="footnotetag500"></a><a href="#footnote500"><sup>500</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Restrictions observed by mourners. Tattooing in honour of the
dead. Teeth of the dead worn by relatives.</p>

<p>The family in which a death has taken place is subject
for a time to certain burdensome restrictions, which are
probably dictated by a fear of the ghost. Thus all the
time till the effigy of the deceased has been made and a
feast given in his honour, they are obliged to remain in the
house without going out for any purpose, not even to bathe
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page314" id="page314"></a>[pg 314]</span>
or to fetch food and drink. Moreover they must abstain
from the ordinary articles of diet and confine themselves to
half-baked cakes of sago and other unpalatable viands.
As these restrictions may last for months they are not
only irksome but onerous, especially to people who have no
slaves to fetch and carry for them. However, in that case
the neighbours come to the rescue and supply the mourners
with wood, water, and the other necessaries of life, until
custom allows them to go out and help themselves. After
the effigy of the dead has been made, the family go in state
to a sacred place to purify themselves by bathing. If the
journey is made by sea, no other canoe may meet or sail
past the canoe of the mourners under pain of being confiscated
to them and redeemed at a heavy price. On their
return from the holy place, the period of mourning is over,
and the family is free to resume their ordinary mode of life
and their ordinary victuals.<a id="footnotetag501" name="footnotetag501"></a><a href="#footnote501"><sup>501</sup></a> That the seclusion of the
mourners in the house for some time after the death springs
from a fear of the ghost is not only probable on general
grounds but is directly suggested by a custom which is
observed at the burial of the body. When it has been laid
in the earth along with various articles of daily use, which
the ghost is supposed to require for his comfort, the mourners
gather round the grave and each of them picks up a leaf,
which he folds in the shape of a spoon and holds several
times over his head as if he would pour out the contents
upon it. As they do so, they all murmur, "<i>Rur i rama</i>,"
that is, "The spirit comes." This exclamation or incantation
is supposed to prevent the ghost from troubling them.
The gravediggers may not enter their houses till they have
bathed and so removed from their persons the contagion of
death, in order that the soul of the deceased may have no
power over them.<a id="footnotetag502" name="footnotetag502"></a><a href="#footnote502"><sup>502</sup></a> Mourners sometimes tattoo themselves
in honour of the dead. For a father, the marks are tattooed
on the cheeks and under the eyes; for a grandfather, on the
breast; for a mother, on the shoulders and arms; for a
brother, on the back. On the death of a father or mother,
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page315" id="page315"></a>[pg 315]</span>
the eldest son or, if there is none such, the eldest daughter
wears the teeth and hair of the deceased. When the teeth
of old people drop out, they are kept on purpose to be thus
strung on a string and worn by their sons or daughters
after their death. Similarly, a mother wears as a permanent
mark of mourning the teeth of her dead child strung on a
cord round her neck, and as a temporary mark of mourning
a little bag on her throat containing a lock of the child's
hair.<a id="footnotetag503" name="footnotetag503"></a><a href="#footnote503"><sup>503</sup></a> The intention of these customs is not mentioned.
Probably they are not purely commemorative but designed
in some way either to influence for good the spirit of the
departed or to obtain its help and protection for the living.</p>

<p class="side">Rebirth of parents in their children.</p>

<p>Thus far we have found no evidence among the natives
of New Guinea of a belief that the dead are permanently
reincarnated in their human descendants. However, the
inhabitants of Ayambori, an inland village about an hour
distant to the east of Doreh, are reported to believe that
the soul of a dead man returns in his eldest son, and that
the soul of a dead woman returns in her eldest daughter.<a id="footnotetag504" name="footnotetag504"></a><a href="#footnote504"><sup>504</sup></a>
So stated the belief is hardly clear and intelligible; for if a
man has several sons, he must evidently be alive and not
dead when the eldest of them is born, and similarly with a
woman and her eldest daughter. On the analogy of similar
beliefs elsewhere we may conjecture that these Papuans
imagine every firstborn son to be animated by the soul of
his father, whether his father be alive or dead, and every
firstborn daughter to be animated by the soul of her
mother, whether her mother be alive or dead.</p>

<p class="side">Customs concerning the dead observed in the islands off the
western end of New Guinea.</p>

<p>Beliefs and customs concerning the dead like those which
we have found among the natives of Geelvink Bay are
reported to prevail in other parts of Dutch New Guinea, but
our information about them is much less full. Thus, off the
western extremity of New Guinea there is a group of small
islands (Waaigeoo, Salawati, Misol, Waigama, and so on),
the inhabitants of which make <i>karwar</i> or wooden images of
their dead ancestors. These they keep in separate rooms
of their houses and take with them as talismans to war.
In these inner rooms are also kept miniature wooden houses
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page316" id="page316"></a>[pg 316]</span>
in which their ancestors are believed to reside, and in which
even Mohammedans (for some of the natives profess Islam)
burn incense on Fridays in honour of the souls of the dead.
These souls are treated like living beings, for in the morning
some finely pounded sago is placed in the shrines; at noon
it is taken away, but may not be eaten by the inmates of
the house. Curiously enough, women are forbidden to set
food for the dead in the shrines: if they did so, it is believed
that they would be childless. Further, in the chief's
house there are shrines for the souls of all the persons who
have died in the whole village. Such a house might almost
be described as a temple of the dead. Among the inhabitants
of the Negen Negorijen or "Nine Villages" the
abodes of the ancestral spirits are often merely frameworks
of houses decorated with coloured rags. These frameworks
are called <i>roem seram</i>. On festal occasions they are
brought forth and the people dance round them to music.
The mountain tribes of these islands to the west of New
Guinea seldom have any such little houses for the souls of
the dead. They think that the spirits of the departed dwell
among the branches of trees, to which accordingly the
living attach strips of red and white cotton, always to the
number of seven or a multiple of seven. Also they place
food on the branches or hang it in baskets on the boughs,<a id="footnotetag505" name="footnotetag505"></a><a href="#footnote505"><sup>505</sup></a>
no doubt in order to feed the hungry ghosts. But among
the tribes on the coast, who make miniature houses for the
use of their dead, these little shrines form a central feature of
the religious life of the people. At festivals, especially on
the occasion of a marriage or a death, the shrines are brought
out from the side chamber and are set down in the central
room of the house, where the people dance round them,
singing and making music for days together with no interruption
except for meals.<a id="footnotetag506" name="footnotetag506"></a><a href="#footnote506"><sup>506</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Wooden images of the dead.</p>

<p>According to the Dutch writer, Mr. de Clercq, whose
account I am reproducing, this worship of the dead, represented
by wooden images (<i>karwar</i>) and lodged in miniature
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page317" id="page317"></a>[pg 317]</span>
houses, is, together with a belief in good and bad spirits,
the only thing deserving the name of religion that can
be detected among these people. It is certain that the
wooden images represent members of the family who died
a natural death at home; they are never, as in Ansoes and
Waropen, images of persons who have been murdered or
slain in battle. Hence they form a kind of Penates, who
are supposed to lead an invisible life in the family circle.
The natives of the Negen Negorijen, for example, believe
that these wooden images (<i>karwar</i>), which are both male
and female, contain the souls of their ancestors, who protect
the house and household and are honoured at festivals by
having portions of food set beside their images.<a id="footnotetag507" name="footnotetag507"></a><a href="#footnote507"><sup>507</sup></a> The Seget
S&eacute;l&eacute;, who occupy the extreme westerly point of New Guinea,
bury their dead in the island of Lago and set up little houses
in the forest for the use of the spirits of their ancestors. But
these little houses may never be entered or even approached
by members of the family.<a id="footnotetag508" name="footnotetag508"></a><a href="#footnote508"><sup>508</sup></a> A traveller, who visited a hut
occupied by members of the Seget tribe in Princess Island,
or Kararaboe, found a sick man in it and observed that
before the front and back door were set up double rows of
roughly hewn images painted with red and black stripes. He
was told that these images were intended to keep off the
sickness; for the natives thought that it would not dare to
run the gauntlet between the double rows of figures into the
house.<a id="footnotetag509" name="footnotetag509"></a><a href="#footnote509"><sup>509</sup></a> We may conjecture that these rude images represented
ancestral spirits who were doing sentinel duty over
the sick man.</p>

<p class="side">Customs concerning the dead among the natives of the Macluer
Gulf.</p>

<p>Among the natives of the Macluer Gulf, which penetrates
deep into the western part of Dutch New Guinea, the souls
of dead men who have distinguished themselves by bravery
or in other ways are honoured in the shape of wooden images,
which are sometimes wrapt in cloth and decorated with shells
about the neck. In Sekar, a village on the south side of the
gulf, small bowls, called <i>kararasa</i> after the spirits of ancestors
who are believed to lodge in them, are hung up in the houses;
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page318" id="page318"></a>[pg 318]</span>
on special occasions food is placed in them. In some of the
islands of the Macluer Gulf the dead are laid in hollows of
the rocks, which are then adorned with drawings of birds,
hands, and so forth. The hands are always painted white
or yellowish on a red ground. The other figures are drawn
with chalk on the weathered surface of the rock. But the
natives either cannot or will not give any explanation of the
custom.<a id="footnotetag510" name="footnotetag510"></a><a href="#footnote510"><sup>510</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Burial and mourning customs in the Mimika district.</p>

<p>The Papuans of the Mimika district, on the southern
coast of Dutch New Guinea, sometimes bury their dead in
shallow graves near the huts; sometimes they place them
in coffins on rough trestles and leave them there till decomposition
is complete, when they remove the skull and preserve
it in the house, either burying it in the sand of the floor
or hanging it in a sort of basket from the roof, where it
becomes brown with smoke and polished with frequent handling.
The people do not appear to be particularly attached
to these relics of their kinsfolk and they sell them readily
to Europeans. Mourners plaster themselves all over with
mud, and sometimes they bathe in the river, probably as a
mode of ceremonial purification. They believe in ghosts,
which they call <i>niniki</i>; but beyond that elementary fact
we have no information as to their beliefs concerning the
state of the dead.<a id="footnotetag511" name="footnotetag511"></a><a href="#footnote511"><sup>511</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Burial customs at Windessi.</p>

<p>The natives of Windessi in Dutch New Guinea generally
bury their dead the day after the decease. As a rule the
corpse is wrapt in mats and a piece of blue cloth and laid
on a scaffold; few are coffined. All the possessions of the
dead, including weapons, fishing-nets, wooden bowls, pots,
and so forth, according as the deceased was a man or a woman,
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page319" id="page319"></a>[pg 319]</span>
are placed beside him or her. If the death is attributed to
the influence of an evil spirit, they take hold of a lock of
hair of the corpse and mention various places. At the
mention of each place, they tug the hair; and if it comes
out, they conclude that the death was caused by somebody
at the place which was mentioned at the moment. But if
the hair does not come out, they infer that evil spirits had no
hand in the affair. Before the body is carried away, the
family bathes, no doubt to purify themselves from the contagion
of death. Among the people of Windessi it is a
common custom to bury the dead in an island. At such a
burial the bystanders pick up a fallen leaf, tear it in two, and
stroke the corpse with it, in order that the ghost of the
departed may not kill them. When the body has been
disposed of either in a grave or on a scaffold, they embark
in the canoe and sit listening for omens. One of the men in
a loud voice bids the birds and the flies to be silent; and all
the others sit as still as death in an attitude of devotion.
At last, after an interval of silence, the man who called out
tells his fellows what he has heard. If it was the buzz of the
blue flies that he heard, some one else will die. If it was the
booming sound of a triton shell blown in the distance, a raid
must be made in that direction to rob and murder. Why it
must be so, is not said, but we may suppose that the note of
the triton shell is believed to betray the place of the enemy
who has wrought the death by magic, and that accordingly
an expedition must be sent to avenge the supposed crime on
the supposed murderer. If the note of a bird called <i>kohwi</i>
is heard, then the fruit-trees will bear fruit. Though all the
men sit listening in the canoe, the ominous sounds are heard
only by the man who called out.<a id="footnotetag512" name="footnotetag512"></a><a href="#footnote512"><sup>512</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Mourning customs at Windessi.</p>

<p>When the omens have thus been taken, the paddles
again dip in the water, and the canoe returns to the house
of mourning. Arrived at it, the men disembark, climb up
the ladder (for the houses seem to be built on piles over the
water) and run the whole length of the long house with their
paddles on their shoulders. Curiously enough, they never
do this at any other time, because they imagine that it would
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page320" id="page320"></a>[pg 320]</span>
cause the death of somebody. Meantime the women have
gone into the forest to get bark, which they beat into
bark-cloth and make into mourning caps for themselves.
The men busy themselves with plaiting armlets and leglets
of rattan, in which some red rags are stuck. Large blue and
white beads are strung on a red cord and worn round the
neck. Further, the hair is shorn in sign of mourning.
Mourners are forbidden to eat anything cooked in a pot.
Sago-porridge, which is a staple food with some of the natives
of New Guinea, is also forbidden to mourners at Windessi.
If they would eat rice, it must be cooked in a bamboo. The
doors and windows of the house are closed with planks or
mats, just as with us the blinds are lowered in a house after
a death. The surviving relatives make as many long sago-cakes
as there are houses in the village and send them to the
inmates; they also prepare a few for themselves. All who
do not belong to the family now leave the house of mourning.
Then the eldest brother or his representative gets up and all
follow him to the back verandah, where a woman stands
holding a bow and arrows, an axe, a paddle, and so forth.
Every one touches these implements. Since the death, there
has been no working in the house, but this time of inactivity
is now over and every one is free to resume his usual occupations.
This ends the preliminary ceremonies of mourning,
which go by the name of <i>djawarra</i>.</p>

<p>A month afterwards round cakes of sago are baked on
the fire, and all the members of the family, their friends, and
the persons who assisted at the burial receive three such
cakes each. Only very young children are now allowed to
eat sago-porridge. This ceremony is called <i>djawarra baba</i>.</p>

<p class="side">Festival of the dead. Wooden images of the dead.</p>

<p>When a year or more has elapsed, the so-called festival
of the dead takes place. Often the festival is held for
several dead at the same time, and in that case the cost is
borne in common. From far and near the people have
collected sago, coco-nuts, and other food. For two nights
and a day they dance and sing, but without the accompaniment
of drums (<i>tifa</i>) and gongs. The first night, the
signs of mourning are still worn, hence no sago-porridge
may be eaten; only friends who are not in mourning are
allowed to partake of it. The night is spent in eating,
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page321" id="page321"></a>[pg 321]</span>
drinking, smoking, singing and dancing. Next day many
people make <i>korwars</i> of their dead, that is, grotesque wooden
images carved in human form, which are regarded as the
representatives of the departed. Some people fetch the
head of the deceased person, and having made a wooden
image with a large head and a hole in the back of it, they
insert the skull into the wooden head from behind. After
that friends feed the mourners with sago-porridge, putting it
into their mouths with the help of the chopsticks which are
commonly used in eating sago. When that is done, the
period of mourning is at an end, and the signs of mourning
are thrown away. A dance on the beach follows, at which
the new wooden images of the dead make their appearance.
But still the drums and gongs are silent. Dancing and
singing go on till the next morning, when the whole of the
ceremonies come to an end.<a id="footnotetag513" name="footnotetag513"></a><a href="#footnote513"><sup>513</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Fear of the ghost.</p>

<p>The exact meaning of all these ceremonies is not clear,
but we may conjecture that they are based in large measure
on the fear of the ghost. That fear comes out plainly in
the ceremony of stroking the corpse with leaves in order to
prevent the ghost from killing the survivors. The writer to
whom we are indebted for an account of these customs tells
us in explanation of them that among these people death is
ascribed to the influence of evil spirits called <i>manoam</i>, who
are supposed to be incarnate in some human beings. Hence
they often seek to avenge a death by murdering somebody
who has the reputation of being an evil spirit incarnate.
If they succeed in doing so, they celebrate the preliminary
mourning ceremonies called <i>djawarra</i> and <i>djawarra baba</i>,
but the festival of the dead is changed into a memorial
festival, at which the people dance and sing to the
accompaniment of drums (<i>tifa</i>), gongs, and triton shells;
and instead of carving a wooden image of the deceased, they
make marks on the fleshless skull of the murdered man.<a id="footnotetag514" name="footnotetag514"></a><a href="#footnote514"><sup>514</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Beliefs of the natives of Windessi as to the life after
death. Medicine-men inspired by the spirits of the dead.</p>

<p>The natives of Windessi are said to have the following
belief as to the life after death, though we are told that the
creed is now known to very few of them; for their old
beliefs and customs are fading away under the influence of a
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page322" id="page322"></a>[pg 322]</span>
mission station which is established among them. According
to their ancient creed, every man and every woman has two
spirits, and in the nether world, called <i>sarooka</i>, is a large house
where there is room for all the people of Windessi. When
a woman dies, both her spirits always go down to the
nether world, where they are clothed with flesh and bones,
need do no work, and live for ever. But when a man dies,
only one of his spirits must go to the under world; the
other may pass or transmigrate into a living man or, in rare
cases, into a living woman; the person so inspired by a
dead man's spirit becomes an <i>inderri</i>, that is, a medicine-man
or medicine-woman and has power to heal the sick.
When a person wishes to become a medicine-man or
medicine-woman, he or she acts as follows. If a man has
died, and his friends are sitting about the corpse lamenting,
the would-be medicine-man suddenly begins to shiver and
to rub his knee with his folded hands, while he utters a
monotonous sound. Gradually he falls into an ecstasy, and
if his whole body shakes convulsively, the spirit of the dead
man is supposed to have entered into him, and he becomes
a medicine-man. Next day or the day after he is taken
into the forest; some hocus-pocus is performed over him,
and the spirits of lunatics, who dwell in certain thick
trees, are invoked to take possession of him. He is now
himself called a lunatic, and on returning home behaves
as if he were half-crazed. This completes his training
as a medicine-man, and he is now fully qualified to kill
or cure the sick. His mode of cure depends on the
native theory of sickness. These savages think that sickness
is caused by a malicious or angry spirit, apparently the
spirit of a dead person; for a patient will say, "The <i>korwar</i>"
(that is, the wooden image which represents a particular
dead person) "is murdering me, or is making me sick." So
the medicine-man is called in, and sets to work on the
sufferer, while the <i>korwar</i>, or wooden image of the spirit who
is supposed to be doing all the mischief, stands beside him.
The principal method of cure employed by the doctor is
massage. He chews a certain fruit fine and rubs the
patient with it; also he pinches him all over the body as if
to drive out the spirit. Often he professes to extract a
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page323" id="page323"></a>[pg 323]</span>
stone, a bone, or a stick from the body of the sufferer. At
last he gives out that he has ascertained the cause of the
sickness; the sick man has done or has omitted to do something
which has excited the anger of the spirit.<a id="footnotetag515" name="footnotetag515"></a><a href="#footnote515"><sup>515</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Ghosts of slain enemies dreaded.</p>

<p>From all this it would seem that the souls of the dead
are more feared than loved and reverenced by the Papuans
of Windessi. Naturally the ghosts of enemies who have
perished at their hands are particularly dreaded by them.
That dread explains some of the ceremonies which are
observed in the village at the return of a successful party of
head-hunters. As they draw near the village, they announce
their approach and success by blowing on triton shells.
Their canoes also are decked with branches. The faces of
the men who have taken a head are blackened with charcoal;
and if several have joined in killing one man, his skull is
divided between them. They always time their arrival
so as to reach home in the early morning. They come
paddling to the village with a great noise, and the women
stand ready to dance in the verandahs of the houses. The
canoes row past the <i>roem sram</i> or clubhouse where the
young men live; and as they pass, the grimy-faced slayers
fling as many pointed sticks or bamboos at the house as
they have killed enemies. The rest of the day is spent
very quietly. But now and then they drum or blow on
the conch, and at other times they beat on the walls of
the houses with sticks, shouting loudly at the same time, to
drive away the ghosts of their victims.<a id="footnotetag516" name="footnotetag516"></a><a href="#footnote516"><sup>516</sup></a></p>

<p>That concludes what I have to say as to the fear and
worship of the dead in Dutch New Guinea.</p>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote475" name="footnote475"></a><b>Footnote 475:</b><a href="#footnotetag475"> (return) </a><p> G. Bamler, "Tami," in R. Neuhauss's
<i>Deutsch Neu-Guinea</i>, iii. (Berlin,
1911) pp. 489-492.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote476" name="footnote476"></a><b>Footnote 476:</b><a href="#footnotetag476"> (return) </a><p>G. Bamler, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 507-512.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote477" name="footnote477"></a><b>Footnote 477:</b><a href="#footnotetag477"> (return) </a><p>G. Bamler, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 513 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote478" name="footnote478"></a><b>Footnote 478:</b><a href="#footnotetag478"> (return) </a><p>G. Bamler, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 514 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote479" name="footnote479"></a><b>Footnote 479:</b><a href="#footnotetag479"> (return) </a><p>G. Bamler, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 515 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote480" name="footnote480"></a><b>Footnote 480:</b><a href="#footnotetag480"> (return) </a><p>G. Bamler, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 516.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote481" name="footnote481"></a><b>Footnote 481:</b><a href="#footnotetag481"> (return) </a><p>G. Bamler, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 493-507.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote482" name="footnote482"></a><b>Footnote 482:</b><a href="#footnotetag482"> (return) </a><p> J. L. van Hasselt, "Die Papuast&auml;mme an der Geelvinkbai
(Neu-guinea)," <i>Mitteilungen der geographischen Gesellschaft zu
Jena</i>, ix. (1890) p. 1; F. S. A. de Clercq, "De West en Noordkust van
Nederlandsch Nieuw-Guinea," <i>Tijdschrift van het Kon. Nederlandsch
Aardrijkskundig Genootschap</i>, Tweede Serie, x. (1893) pp. 587
<i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote483" name="footnote483"></a><b>Footnote 483:</b><a href="#footnotetag483"> (return) </a><p> J. L. van Hasselt, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 2, 3, 5
<i>sq.</i>; A. Goudswaard, <i>De Papoewa's van de Geelvinksbaai</i>
(Schiedam, 1863), pp. 28 <i>sqq.</i>, 33 <i>sqq.</i>, 42 <i>sq.</i>, 47
<i>sqq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote484" name="footnote484"></a><b>Footnote 484:</b><a href="#footnotetag484"> (return) </a><p> J. L. van Hasselt, "Die Papuast&auml;mme an der Geelvinkbai
(Neu-guinea)," <i>Mitteilungen der Geographischen Gesellschaft zu
Jena</i>, ix. (1891) p. 101.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote485" name="footnote485"></a><b>Footnote 485:</b><a href="#footnotetag485"> (return) </a><p> H. van Rosenberg, <i>Der Malayische Archipel</i>
(Leipsic, 1878), p. 461.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote486" name="footnote486"></a><b>Footnote 486:</b><a href="#footnotetag486"> (return) </a><p>H. van Rosenberg, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 462.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote487" name="footnote487"></a><b>Footnote 487:</b><a href="#footnotetag487"> (return) </a><p> M. Krieger, <i>Neu-Guinea</i> (Berlin, <span class="sc">N.D.</span>,
preface dated 1899), pp. 401, 402.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote488" name="footnote488"></a><b>Footnote 488:</b><a href="#footnotetag488"> (return) </a><p> A. Goudswaard, <i>De Papoewa's van de Geelvinksbaai</i>
(Schiedam, 1863), p. 77. Compare O. Finsch, <i>Neu-Guinea und seine
Bewohner</i> (Bremen, 1865), p. 105.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote489" name="footnote489"></a><b>Footnote 489:</b><a href="#footnotetag489"> (return) </a><p> F. S. A. de Clercq, "De West- en Noordkust van
Nederlandsch Nieuw-Guinea," <i>Tijdschrift van het Kon. Nederlandsch
Aardrijkskundig Genootschap</i>, Tweede Serie, x. (1893) p. 631. On
these <i>korwar</i> or <i>karwar</i> (images of the dead) see further A.
Goudswaard, <i>De Papoewa's van de Geelvinksbaai</i>, pp. 72 <i>sq.</i>,
77-79; O. Finsch, <i>Neu-Guinea und seine Bewohner</i>, pp. 104-106; H.
von Rosenberg, <i>Der Malayische Archipel</i>, pp. 460 <i>sq.</i>; J. L.
van Hasselt, "Die Papuast&auml;mme an der Geelvinkbaai (Neu-Guinea)"
<i>Mitteilungen der Geographischen Gesellschaft zu Jena</i>, ix. (1891)
p. 100; M. Krieger, <i>Neu-Guinea</i>, pp. 400 <i>sq.</i>, 402
<i>sq.</i>, 498 <i>sqq.</i> In the text I have drawn on these various
accounts.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote490" name="footnote490"></a><b>Footnote 490:</b><a href="#footnotetag490"> (return) </a><p>J. L. van Hasselt, <i>l.c.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote491" name="footnote491"></a><b>Footnote 491:</b><a href="#footnotetag491"> (return) </a><p> A. Goudswaard, <i>De Papoewa's van de Geelvinksbaai</i>,
pp. 78 <i>sq.</i>; O. Finsch, <i>Neu-Guinea und seine Bewohner</i>, pp.
105 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote492" name="footnote492"></a><b>Footnote 492:</b><a href="#footnotetag492"> (return) </a><p> A. Goudswaard, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 79; O. Finsch, <i>op.
cit.</i> p. 106.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote493" name="footnote493"></a><b>Footnote 493:</b><a href="#footnotetag493"> (return) </a><p>J. L. van Hasselt, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 100.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote494" name="footnote494"></a><b>Footnote 494:</b><a href="#footnotetag494"> (return) </a><p>A. Goudswaard, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 78.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote495" name="footnote495"></a><b>Footnote 495:</b><a href="#footnotetag495"> (return) </a><p>F. S. A. de Clercq, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 632.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote496" name="footnote496"></a><b>Footnote 496:</b><a href="#footnotetag496"> (return) </a><p>F. S. A. de Clercq, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 632.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote497" name="footnote497"></a><b>Footnote 497:</b><a href="#footnotetag497"> (return) </a><p>F. S. A. de Clercq, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 632.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote498" name="footnote498"></a><b>Footnote 498:</b><a href="#footnotetag498"> (return) </a><p> A. Goudswaard, <i>De Papoewa's van de Geelvinksbaai</i>,
pp. 70-73; O. Finsch, <i>Neu-Guinea und seine Bewohner</i> pp. 104
<i>sq.</i>; M. Krieger, <i>Neu-Guinea</i>, p. 398.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote499" name="footnote499"></a><b>Footnote 499:</b><a href="#footnotetag499"> (return) </a><p> J. L. van Hasselt, in <i>Mitteilungen der Geographischen
Gesellschaft zu Jena</i>, iv. (1886) pp. 118 <i>sq.</i> As to the spirit
or spirits who dwell in tree tops and draw away the souls of the living
to themselves, see further "Eenige bijzonderheden betreffende de Papoeas
van de Geelvinksbaai van Nieuw-Guinea," <i>Bijdragen tot de Taal-
Landen Volkenkunde van Ne&ecirc;rlandsch-Indi&euml;</i>, ii. (1854) pp. 375
<i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote500" name="footnote500"></a><b>Footnote 500:</b><a href="#footnotetag500"> (return) </a><p> A. Goudswaard, <i>De Papoewa's van de Geelvinksbaai</i>,
p. 73; J. L. van Hasselt, in <i>Mitteilungen der Geographischen
Gesellschaft zu Jena</i>, iv. (1886) p. 118; M. Krieger,
<i>Neu-Guinea</i>, pp. 398. <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote501" name="footnote501"></a><b>Footnote 501:</b><a href="#footnotetag501"> (return) </a><p> A. Goudswaard, <i>De Papoewa's van de Geelvinksbaai</i>,
pp. 75 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote502" name="footnote502"></a><b>Footnote 502:</b><a href="#footnotetag502"> (return) </a><p> J. L. van Hasselt, in <i>Mitteilungen der Geographischen
Gesellschaft zu Jena</i>, iv. (1886) 117 <i>sq.</i>; M. Krieger, <i>op.
cit.</i> pp. 397 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote503" name="footnote503"></a><b>Footnote 503:</b><a href="#footnotetag503"> (return) </a><p>A. Goudswaard, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 74 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote504" name="footnote504"></a><b>Footnote 504:</b><a href="#footnotetag504"> (return) </a><p> <i>Nieuw Guinea ethnographisch en natuurkundig onderzocht
en beschreven</i> (Amsterdam, 1862), p. 162.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote505" name="footnote505"></a><b>Footnote 505:</b><a href="#footnotetag505"> (return) </a><p> F. S. A. de Clercq, "De West- en Noordkust van
Nederlandsch Nieuw-Guinea," <i>Tijdschrift van het Kon. Nederlandsch
Aardrijkskundig Genootschap</i>, Tweede Serie, x. (1893) pp. 198
<i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote506" name="footnote506"></a><b>Footnote 506:</b><a href="#footnotetag506"> (return) </a><p>F. S. A. de Clercq, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 201.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote507" name="footnote507"></a><b>Footnote 507:</b><a href="#footnotetag507"> (return) </a><p>F. S. A. de Clercq, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 202, 205.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote508" name="footnote508"></a><b>Footnote 508:</b><a href="#footnotetag508"> (return) </a><p>F. S. A. de Clercq, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 211.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote509" name="footnote509"></a><b>Footnote 509:</b><a href="#footnotetag509"> (return) </a><p> J. W. van Hille, "Reizen in West-Nieuw-Guinea,"
<i>Tijdschrift van het Kon. Nederlandsch Aardrijkskundig
Genootschap</i>, Tweede Serie, xxiii. (1906) p. 463.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote510" name="footnote510"></a><b>Footnote 510:</b><a href="#footnotetag510"> (return) </a><p> F. S. A. de Clercq, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 459 <i>sq.</i>,
461 <i>sq.</i> A German traveller, Mr. H. K&uuml;hn, spent some time at Sekar
and purchased a couple of what he calls "old heathen idols," which are
now in the ethnological Museum at Leipsic. One of them, about a foot
high, represents a human head and bust; the other, about two feet high,
represents a squat sitting figure. They are probably ancestral images
(<i>korwar</i> or <i>karwar</i>). The natives are said to have such
confidence in the protection of these "idols" that they leave their
jewellery and other possessions unguarded beside them, in the full
belief that nobody would dare to steal anything from spots protected by
such mighty beings. See H. K&uuml;hn, "Mein Aufenthalt in Neu-Guinea,"
<i>Festschrift des 25j&auml;hrigen Bestehens des Vereins f&uuml;r Erdkunde zu
Dresden</i> (Dresden, 1888), pp. 143 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote511" name="footnote511"></a><b>Footnote 511:</b><a href="#footnotetag511"> (return) </a><p> A. F. R. Wollaston, <i>Pygmies and Papuans</i> (London,
1912), pp. 132 <i>sq.</i>, 136-140.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote512" name="footnote512"></a><b>Footnote 512:</b><a href="#footnotetag512"> (return) </a><p> J. L. D. van der Roest, "Uit the leven der bevolking van
Windessi," <i>Tijdschrift voor Indische Taal- Landen Volkenkunde</i>,
xl. (1898) pp. 159 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote513" name="footnote513"></a><b>Footnote 513:</b><a href="#footnotetag513"> (return) </a><p> J. L. D. van der Roest, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 161
<i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote514" name="footnote514"></a><b>Footnote 514:</b><a href="#footnotetag514"> (return) </a><p>J. L. D. van der Roest, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 162.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote515" name="footnote515"></a><b>Footnote 515:</b><a href="#footnotetag515"> (return) </a><p>J. L. D. van der Roest, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 164-166.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote516" name="footnote516"></a><b>Footnote 516:</b><a href="#footnotetag516"> (return) </a><p> J. L. D. van der Roest, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 157
<i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<span class="pagenum"><a name="page324" id="page324"></a>[pg 324]</span>




<h2><a name="lecture-xv" id="lecture-xv"></a>LECTURE XV</h2>

<h3>THE BELIEF IN IMMORTALITY AMONG THE NATIVES
OF SOUTHERN MELANESIA (NEW CALEDONIA)</h3>


<p class="side">Melanesia and the Melanesians.</p>

<p>In the last lecture I concluded our survey of the beliefs and
practices concerning death and the dead which are reported
to prevail among the natives of New Guinea. We now
pass to the natives of Melanesia, the great archipelago or
rather chain of archipelagoes, which stretches round the north-eastern
and eastern ends of New Guinea and southward,
parallel to the coast of Queensland, till it almost touches the
tropic of Capricorn. Thus the islands lie wholly within the
tropics and are for the most part characterised by tropical heat
and tropical luxuriance of vegetation. Only New Caledonia,
the most southerly of the larger islands, differs somewhat
from the rest in its comparatively cool climate and scanty
flora.<a id="footnotetag517" name="footnotetag517"></a><a href="#footnote517"><sup>517</sup></a> The natives of the islands belong to the Melanesian
race. They are dark-skinned and woolly-haired and speak
a language which is akin to the Polynesian language. In
material culture they stand roughly on the same level as the
natives of New Guinea, a considerable part of whom in the
south-eastern part of the island, as I pointed out before, are
either pure Melanesians or at all events exhibit a strong
infusion of Melanesian blood. They cultivate the ground,
live in settled villages, build substantial houses, construct
outrigger-canoes, display some aptitude for art, possess
strong commercial instincts, and even employ various
mediums of exchange, of which shell-money is the most
notable.<a id="footnotetag518" name="footnotetag518"></a><a href="#footnote518"><sup>518</sup></a></p>

<span class="pagenum"><a name="page325" id="page325"></a>[pg 325]</span>

<p class="side">The New Caledonians.</p>

<p>We shall begin our survey of these islands with New
Caledonia in the south, and from it shall pass northwards
through the New Hebrides and Solomon Islands to the
Bismarck Archipelago, which consists chiefly of the two
great islands of New Britain and New Ireland with the
group of the Admiralty Islands terminating it to the
westward. For our knowledge of the customs and religion
of the New Caledonians we depend chiefly on the evidence
of a Catholic missionary, Father Lambert, who has worked
among them since 1856 and has published a valuable book
on the subject.<a id="footnotetag519" name="footnotetag519"></a><a href="#footnote519"><sup>519</sup></a> To be exact, his information applies not
to the natives of New Caledonia itself, but to the inhabitants
of a group of small islands, which lie immediately off the
northern extremity of the island and are known as the
Belep group. Father Lambert began to labour among the
Belep at a time when no white man had as yet resided
among them. At a later time circumstances led him to
transfer his ministry to the Isle of Pines, which lies off the
opposite or southern end of New Caledonia. A comparative
study of the natives at the two extremities of New Caledonia
revealed to him an essential similarity in their beliefs and
customs; so that it is not perhaps very rash to assume
that similar customs prevail among the aborigines of New
Caledonia itself, which lies intermediate between the two
points observed by Father Lambert.<a id="footnotetag520" name="footnotetag520"></a><a href="#footnote520"><sup>520</sup></a> The assumption is
confirmed by evidence which was collected by Dr. George
Turner from the mainland of New Caledonia so long ago
as 1845.<a id="footnotetag521" name="footnotetag521"></a><a href="#footnote521"><sup>521</sup></a> Accordingly in what follows I shall commonly
speak of the New Caledonians in general, though the
statements for the most part apply in particular to the
Belep tribe.</p>

<p class="side">Beliefs of the New Calendonians as to the land of the dead.</p>

<p>The souls of the New Caledonians, like those of most
savages, are supposed to be immortal, at least to survive
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page326" id="page326"></a>[pg 326]</span>
death for an indefinite period.  They all go, good and bad
alike, to dwell in a very rich and beautiful country situated
at the bottom of the sea, to the north-east of the island
of Pott.  The name of the land of souls is Tsiabiloum.
But before they reach this happy land they must run the
gauntlet of a grim spirit called Kiemoua, who has his abode
on a rock in the island of Pott.  He is a fisherman of
souls; for he catches them as they pass in a net and after
venting his fury on them he releases them, and they pursue
their journey to Tsiabiloum, the land of the dead.  It is
a country more fair and fertile than tongue can tell.  Yams,
taros, sugar-canes, bananas all grow there in profusion and
without cultivation.  There are forests of wild orange-trees,
also, and the golden fruits serve the blessed spirits as
playthings.  You can tell roughly how long it is since a
spirit quitted the upper world by the colour of the orange
which he plays with; for the oranges of those who have
just arrived are green; the oranges of those who have been
longer dead are ripe; and the oranges of those who died
long ago are dry and wizened.  There is no night in that
blessed land, and no sleep; for the eyes of the spirits are
never weighed down with slumber.  Sorrow and sickness,
decrepitude and death never enter; even boredom is
unknown.  But it is only the nights, or rather the hours
corresponding to nights on earth, which the spirits pass
in these realms of bliss.  At daybreak they revisit their old
home on earth and take up their posts in the cemeteries
where they are honoured; then at nightfall they flit away
back to the spirit-land beneath the sea, there to resume
their sport with oranges, green, golden, or withered, till dawn
of day.  On these repeated journeys to and fro they have
nothing to fear from the grim fisherman and his net; it
is only on their first passage to the nether world that he
catches and trounces them.<a id="footnotetag522" name="footnotetag522"></a><a href="#footnote522"><sup>522</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Burial customs of the New Calendonians.</p>

<p>The bodies of the dead are buried in shallow graves,
which are dug in a sacred grove.  The corpse is placed in
a crouching attitude with the head at or above the surface
of the ground, in order to allow of the skull being easily
detached from the trunk, at a subsequent time.  In token
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page327" id="page327"></a>[pg 327]</span>
of sorrow the nearest relations of the deceased tear the
lobes of their ears and inflict large burns on their arms and
breasts. The houses, nets, and other implements of the
dead are burnt; his plantations are ravaged, his coco-nut
palms felled with the axe. The motive for this destruction
of the property of the deceased is not mentioned, but the
custom points to a fear of the ghost; the people probably
make his old home as unattractive as possible in order to
offer him no temptation to return and haunt them. The
same fear of the ghost, or at all events of the infection of
death, is revealed by the stringent seclusion and ceremonial
pollution of the grave-diggers. They are two in number;
no other persons may handle the corpse. After they have
discharged their office they must remain near the corpse for
four or five days, observing a rigorous fast and keeping
apart from their wives. They may not shave or cut their
hair, and they are obliged to wear a tall pyramidal and very
cumbersome head-dress. They may not touch food with
their hands. If they help themselves to it, they must pick
it up with their mouths alone or with a stick, not with their
fingers. Oftener they are fed by an attendant, who puts the
victuals into their mouths as he might do if they were
palsied. On the other hand they are treated by the people
with great respect; common folk will not pass near them
without stooping.<a id="footnotetag523" name="footnotetag523"></a><a href="#footnote523"><sup>523</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Sham fight as a mourning ceremony.</p>

<p>A curious ceremony which the New Caledonians observe
at a certain period of mourning for the dead is a sham fight.
Father Lambert describes one such combat which he witnessed.
A number of men were divided into two parties;
one party was posted on the beach, the other and much
larger party was stationed in the adjoining cemetery, where
food and property had been collected.  From time to time
a long piercing yell would be heard; then a number of men
would break from the crowd in the cemetery and rush
furiously down to the beach with their slings and stones
ready to assail their adversaries. These, answering yell
with yell, would then plunge into the sea, armed with
battle-axes and clubs, while they made a feint of parrying
the stones hurled at them by the other side.  But neither
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page328" id="page328"></a>[pg 328]</span>
the shots nor the parries appeared to be very seriously
meant. Then when the assailants retired, the fugitives
pretended to pursue them, till both parties had regained
their original position. The same scene of alternate attack
and retreat was repeated hour after hour, till at last, the
pretence of enmity being laid aside, the two parties joined
in a dance, their heads crowned with leafy garlands. Father
Lambert, who describes this ceremony as an eye-witness,
offers no explanation of it. But as he tells us that all
deaths are believed by these savages to be an effect of
sorcery, we may conjecture that the sham fight is intended
to delude the ghost into thinking that his death is being
avenged on the sorcerer who killed him.<a id="footnotetag524" name="footnotetag524"></a><a href="#footnote524"><sup>524</sup></a> In former lectures
I shewed that similar pretences are made, apparently for a
similar purpose, by some of the natives of Australia and
New Guinea.<a id="footnotetag525" name="footnotetag525"></a><a href="#footnote525"><sup>525</sup></a> If the explanation is correct, we can hardly
help applauding the ingenuity which among these savages
has discovered a bloodless mode of satisfying the ghost's
craving for blood.</p>

<p class="side">Preservation of the skulls of the dead.</p>

<p>About a year after the death, when the flesh of the
corpse is entirely decayed, the skull is removed and placed
solemnly in another burying-ground, or rather charnel-house,
where all the skulls of the family are deposited. Every
family has such a charnel-house, which is commonly situated
near the dwelling. It appears to be simply an open space
in the forest, where the skulls are set in a row on the ground.<a id="footnotetag526" name="footnotetag526"></a><a href="#footnote526"><sup>526</sup></a>
Yet in a sense it may be called a temple for the worship of
ancestors; for recourse is had to the skulls on various
occasions in order to obtain the help of the spirits of the
dead. "The true worship of the New Caledonians," says
Father Lambert, "is the worship of ancestors. Each family
has its own; it religiously preserves their name; it is proud
of them and has confidence in them. Hence it has its
burial-place and its pious hearth for the sacrifices to be
offered to their ghosts. It is the most inviolable piece of
property; an encroachment on such a spot by a neighbour
is a thing unheard of."<a id="footnotetag527" name="footnotetag527"></a><a href="#footnote527"><sup>527</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Examples of ancestor-worship among the New Caledonians.</p>

<p>A few examples may serve to illustrate the ancestor-worship
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page329" id="page329"></a>[pg 329]</span>
of the New Caledonians. When a person is sick, a
member of the family, never a stranger, is appointed to heal
him by means of certain magical insufflations. To enable
him to do so with effect the healer first repairs to the family
charnel-house and lays some sugar-cane leaves beside the
skulls, saying, "I lay these leaves on you that I may go
and breathe upon our sick relative, to the end that he may
live." Then he goes to a tree belonging to the family and
lays other sugar-cane leaves at its foot, saying, "I lay these
leaves beside the tree of my father and of my grandfather,
in order that my breath may have healing virtue." Next he
takes some leaves of the tree or a piece of its bark, chews it
into a mash, and then goes and breathes on the patient, his
breath being moistened with spittle which is charged with
particles of the leaves or the bark.<a id="footnotetag528" name="footnotetag528"></a><a href="#footnote528"><sup>528</sup></a> Thus the healing virtue
of his breath would seem to be drawn from the spirits of the
dead as represented partly by their skulls and partly by the
leaves and bark of the tree which belonged to them in life,
and to which their souls appear in some manner to be
attached in death.</p>

<p class="side">Prayers for fish.</p>

<p>Again, when a shoal of fish has made its appearance on
the reef, a number of superstitious ceremonies have to be
performed before the people may go and spear them in the
water. On the eve of the fishing-day the medicine-man
of the tribe causes a quantity of leaves of certain specified
plants to be collected and roasted in the native ovens.
Next day the leaves are taken from the ovens and deposited
beside the ancestral skulls, which have been arranged and
decorated for the ceremony. All the fishermen, armed with
their fishing-spears, repair to the holy ground or sacred
grove where the skulls are kept, and there they draw themselves
up in two rows, while the medicine-man chants an
invocation or prayer for a good catch. At every verse the
crowd raises a cry of approval and assent. At its conclusion
the medicine-man sets an example by thrusting with his spear
at a fish, and all the men immediately plunge into the water
and engage in fishing.<a id="footnotetag529" name="footnotetag529"></a><a href="#footnote529"><sup>529</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Prayers for sugar-cane.</p>

<p>Again, in order that a sugar plantation may flourish, the
medicine-man will lay a sugar-cane beside the ancestral
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page330" id="page330"></a>[pg 330]</span>
skulls, saying, "This is for you. We beg of you to ward off
all curses, all tricks of wicked people, in order that our
plantations may prosper."<a id="footnotetag530" name="footnotetag530"></a><a href="#footnote530"><sup>530</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Prayers for yams.</p>

<p>Again, when the store of yams is running short and
famine is beginning to be felt, the New Caledonians celebrate
a festival called <i>moulim</i> in which the worship of their
ancestors is the principal feature. A staff is wreathed with
branches, apparently to represent a yam, and a hedge of
coco-nut leaves is made near the ancestral skulls. The
decorated staff is then set up there, and prayers for the
prosperity of the crops are offered over and over again.
After that nobody may enter a yam-field or a cemetery or
touch sea-water for three days. On the third day a man
stationed on a mound chants an invocation or incantation in
a loud voice. Next all the men go down to the shore, each
of them with a firebrand in his hand, and separating into
two parties engage in a sham fight. Afterwards they bathe
and repairing to the charnel-house deposit coco-nut leaves
beside the skulls of their ancestors. They are then free
to partake of the feast which has been prepared by the
women.<a id="footnotetag531" name="footnotetag531"></a><a href="#footnote531"><sup>531</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Caverns used by the natives as charnel-houses in the Isle of
Pines.</p>

<p>While the beliefs and customs of the New Caledonians
in regard to the dead bear a general resemblance to each
other, whether they belong to the north or to the south of
the principal island, a special feature is introduced into the
mortuary customs of the natives of the Isle of Pines by the
natural caves and grottoes with which the outer rim of the
island, to the distance of several miles from the shore, is
riddled; for in these caverns the natives in the old heathen
days were wont to deposit the bones and skulls of their dead
and to use the caves as sanctuaries or chapels for the
worship of the spirits of the departed. Some of the caves
are remarkable both in themselves and in their situation.
Most of those which the natives turned into charnel-houses
are hidden away, sometimes at great distances, in the rank
luxuriance of the tropical forests.  Some of them open
straight from the level of the ground; to reach others
you must clamber up the rocks; to explore others you
must descend into the bowels of the earth. A glimmering
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page331" id="page331"></a>[pg 331]</span>
twilight illumines some; thick darkness veils others, and it
is only by torchlight that you can explore their mysterious
depths. Penetrating into the interior by the flickering
gleam of flambeaus held aloft by the guides, and picking
your steps among loose stones and pools of water, you
might fancy yourself now in the great hall of a ruined
castle, now in the vast nave of a gothic cathedral with its
chapels opening off it into the darkness on either hand.
The illusion is strengthened by the multitude of stalactites
which hang from the roof of the cavern and, glittering in the
fitful glow of the torches, might be taken for burning cressets
kindled to light up the revels in a baronial hall, or for holy
lamps twinkling in the gloom of a dim cathedral aisle before
holy images, where solitary worshippers kneel in silent
devotion. In the shifting play of the light and shadow cast
by the torches the fantastic shapes of the incrustations which
line the sides or rise from the floor of the grotto appear to
the imagination of the observer now as the gnarled trunks
of huge trees, now as statues or torsos of statues, now as
altars, on which perhaps a nearer approach reveals a row of
blanched and grinning skulls. No wonder if such places,
chosen for the last resting-places of the relics of mortality,
have fed the imagination of the natives with weird notions
of a life after death, a life very different from that which the
living lead in the glowing sunshine and amid the rich tropical
verdure a few paces outside of these gloomy caverns. It is
with a shiver and a sense of relief that the visitor escapes
from them to the warm outer air and sees again the ferns
and creepers hanging over the mouth of the cave like a
green fringe against the intense blue of the sky.<a id="footnotetag532" name="footnotetag532"></a><a href="#footnote532"><sup>532</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Sea-caves.</p>

<p>While this is the general character of the caves which
are to be found hidden away in the forests, many of those
near the shore consist simply of apertures hollowed out in
the face of the cliffs by the slow but continuous action of
the waves in the course of ages. On the beach itself sea-caves
are found in which the rising tide precipitates itself
with a hollow roar as of subterranean thunder; and at a
point, some way back from the strand, where the roof of
one of these caves has fallen in, the salt water is projected
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page332" id="page332"></a>[pg 332]</span>
into the air in the form of intermittent jets of spray, which
vary in height with the force of the wind and tide.<a id="footnotetag533" name="footnotetag533"></a><a href="#footnote533"><sup>533</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Prayers and sacrifices offered to the dead by the New
Caledonians.</p>

<p>With regard to the use which the natives make of these
caves as charnel-houses and mortuary chapels, Father
Lambert tells us that any one of them usually includes
three compartments, a place of burial, a place of skulls, and
a place of sacrifice. But often the place of skulls is also the
place of sacrifice; and in no case is the one far from the
other. The family priest, who is commonly the senior
member of the family, may address his prayers to the
ancestors in the depth of the cavern, in the place of skulls,
or in the place of sacrifice, whenever circumstances call for
a ritual of unusual solemnity. Otherwise with the help
of his amulets he may pray to the souls of the forefathers
anywhere; for these amulets consist of personal and portable
relics of the dead, such as locks of hair, teeth, and so forth; or
again they may be leaves or other parts of plants which are
sacred to the family; so that a wizard who is in possession
of them can always and anywhere communicate with the
ancestral spirits. The place of sacrifice would seem to be
more often in the open air than in a cave, for Father
Lambert tells us that in the centre of it a shrub, always of
the same species, is planted and carefully cultivated. Beside
it may be seen the pots and stones which are used in
cooking the food offered to the dead. In this worship of
the dead a certain differentiation of functions or division of
labour obtains between the various families. All have not
the same gifts and graces. The prayers of one family
offered to their ancestral ghosts are thought to be powerful
in procuring rain in time of drought; the prayers of another
will cause the sun to break through the clouds when the
sky is overcast; the supplications of a third will produce a
fine crop of yams; the earnest entreaties of a fourth will
ensure victory in war; and the passionate pleadings of a
fifth will guard mariners against the perils and dangers of
the deep. And so on through the whole gamut of human
needs, so far as these are felt by savages. If only wrestling
in prayer could satisfy the wants of man, few people should
be better provided with all the necessaries and comforts of
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page333" id="page333"></a>[pg 333]</span>
life than the New Caledonians. And according to the
special purpose to which a family devotes its spiritual
energies, so will commonly be the position of its oratory.
For example, if rain-making is their strong point, their
house of prayer will be established near a cultivated field,
in order that the crops may immediately experience the
benefit to be derived from their orisons. Again, if they
enjoy a high reputation for procuring a good catch of fish,
the family skulls will be placed in the mouth of a cave
looking out over the great ocean, or perhaps on a bleak
little wind-swept isle, where in the howl of the blast, the
thunder of the waves on the strand, and the clangour of
the gulls overhead, the fancy of the superstitious savage
may hear the voices of his dead forefathers keeping watch
and ward over their children who are tossed on the heaving
billows.<a id="footnotetag534" name="footnotetag534"></a><a href="#footnote534"><sup>534</sup></a> Thus among these fortunate islanders religion
and industry go hand in hand; piety has been reduced to
a co-operative system which diffuses showers of blessings
on the whole community.</p>

<p class="side">Prayer-posts.</p>

<p>As it is clearly impossible even for the most devout
to pray day and night without cessation, the weakness of
the flesh requiring certain intervals for refreshment and
repose, the New Caledonians have devised an ingenious
method of continuing their orisons at the shrine in their
own absence. For this purpose they make rods or poles
of various lengths, carve and paint them rudely, wind
bandages of native cloth about them, and having fastened
large shells to the top, set them up either in the sepulchral
caves or in the place of skulls. In setting up one of these
poles the native will pray for the particular favour which
he desires to obtain from the ancestors for himself or his
family; and he appears to think that in some way the pole
will continue to recite the prayer in the ears of the ghosts,
when he himself has ceased to speak and has returned to
his customary avocations. And when members of his
family visit the shrine and see the pole, they will be reminded
of the particular benefit which they are entitled to expect
from the souls of the departed. A certain rude symbolism
may be traced in the materials and other particulars of
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page334" id="page334"></a>[pg 334]</span>
these prayer-posts. A hard wood signifies strength; a tall
pole overtopping all the rest imports a wish that he for
whose sake it was erected may out-top all his rivals; and
so on.<a id="footnotetag535" name="footnotetag535"></a><a href="#footnote535"><sup>535</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Religion combined with magic in the ritual of the New
Caledonians. Sacred stones endowed with special magical virtues. The
"stone of famine."</p>

<p>We may assume with some probability that in the mind
of the natives such resemblances are not purely figurative
or symbolic, but that they are also magical in intention,
being supposed not merely to represent the object of the
supplicant's prayer, but actually, on the principle of homoeopathic
or imitative magic, to contribute to its accomplishment.
If that is so, we must conclude that the religion of these
savages, as manifested in their prayers to the spirits of the
dead, is tinctured with an alloy of magic; they do not trust
entirely to the compassion of the spirits and their power
to help them; they seek to reinforce their prayers by a
certain physical compulsion acting through the natural
properties of the prayer-posts.  This interpretation is
confirmed by a parallel use which these people make of
certain sacred stones, which apart from their possible
character as representatives of the ancestors, seem to be
credited with independent magical virtues by reason of their
various shapes and appearances. For example, there is a
piece of polished jade which is called "the stone of famine,"
because it is supposed capable of causing either dearth or
abundance, but is oftener used by the sorcerer to create,
or at least to threaten, dearth, in order thereby to extort
presents from his alarmed fellow tribesmen. This stone is
kept in a burial-ground and derives its potency from the
dead. The worshipper or the sorcerer (for he combines the
two characters) who desires to cause a famine repairs to
the burial-ground, uncovers the stone, rubs it with certain
plants, and smears one half of it with black pigment. Then
he makes a small hole in the ground and inserts the
blackened end of the stone in the hole. Next he prays
to the ancestors that nothing may go well with the country.
If this malevolent rite should be followed by the desired
effect, the sorcerer soon sees messengers arriving laden with
presents, who entreat him to stay the famine.  If his cupidity
is satisfied, he rubs the stone again, inserts it upside down
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page335" id="page335"></a>[pg 335]</span>
in the ground, and prays to his ancestors to restore plenty
to the land.<a id="footnotetag536" name="footnotetag536"></a><a href="#footnote536"><sup>536</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Stones to drive people mad.</p>

<p>Again, certain rough unhewn stones, which are kept
in the sacred places, are thought to possess the power of
driving people mad. To effect this purpose the sorcerer
has only to strike one of them with the branches of a
certain tree and to pray to the ancestral spirits that they
would deprive so-and-so of his senses.<a id="footnotetag537" name="footnotetag537"></a><a href="#footnote537"><sup>537</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Stones to blight coco-nut palms. Stones to make bread-fruit
trees bear fruit.</p>

<p>Again, there is a stone which they use in cursing a
plantation of coco-nut palms. The stone resembles a
blighted coco-nut, and no doubt it is this resemblance
which is supposed to endow it with the magical power to
blight coco-nut trees.  In order to effect his malicious
purpose the sorcerer rubs the stone in the cemetery with
certain leaves and then deposits it in a hole at the foot
of a coco-nut tree, covers it up, and prays that all the
trees of the plantation may be barren.  This ceremony
combines the elements of magic and religion. The prayer,
which is no doubt addressed to the spirits of the dead,
though this is not expressly affirmed, is purely religious;
but the employment of a stone resembling a blighted coco-nut
for the purpose of blighting the coco-nut palms is a
simple piece of homoeopathic or imitative magic, in which,
as usual, the desired effect is supposed to be produced by
an imitation of it. Similarly, in order to make a bread-fruit
tree bear fruit they employ two stones, one of which
resembles the unripe and the other the ripe fruit. These
are kept, as usual, in a cemetery; and when the trees begin
to put forth fruit, the small stone resembling the unripe fruit
is buried at the foot of one of the trees with the customary
prayers and ceremonies; and when the fruits are more
mature the small stone is replaced by the larger stone
which resembles the ripe fruit. Then, when the fruits on
the tree are quite ripe, the two stones are removed and
deposited again in the cemetery: they have done their work
by bringing to maturity the fruits which they resemble.
This again is a piece of pure homoeopathic or imitative
magic working by means of mimicry; but the magical
virtue of the stones is reinforced by the spiritual power
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page336" id="page336"></a>[pg 336]</span>
of the dead, for the stones have been kept in a cemetery and
prayers have been addressed to the souls of the departed.<a id="footnotetag538" name="footnotetag538"></a><a href="#footnote538"><sup>538</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">The "stone of the sun."</p>

<p>Again, the natives have two disc-shaped stones, each
with a hole in the centre, which together make up what
they call "the stone of the sun." No doubt it is regarded
as a symbol of the sun, and as such it is employed to cause
drought in a ceremony which, like the preceding, combines
the elements of magic and religion. The sun-stone is kept
in one of the sacred places, and when a sorcerer wishes
to make drought with it, he brings offerings to the ancestral
spirits in the sacred place. These offerings are purely
religious, but the rest of the ceremony is purely magical.
At the moment when the sun rises from the sea, the
magician or priest, whichever we choose to call him (for
he combines both characters), passes a burning brand in
and out of the hole in the sun-stone, while he says, "I
kindle the sun, in order that he may eat up the clouds
and dry up our land, so that it shall no longer bear
fruit." Here the putting of fire to the sun-stone is a
piece of pure homoeopathic or imitative magic, designed to
increase the burning heat of the sun by mimicry.<a id="footnotetag539" name="footnotetag539"></a><a href="#footnote539"><sup>539</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Stones to make rain.</p>

<p>On the contrary, when a wizard desires to make rain, he
proceeds as follows. The place of sacrifice is decorated and
enclosed with a fence, and a large quantity of provisions is
deposited in it to be offered to the ancestors whose skulls
stand there in a row. Opposite the skulls the wizard places
a row of pots full of a medicated water, and he brings a
number of sacred stones of a rounded form or shaped like a
skull. Each of these stones, after being rubbed with the
leaves of a certain tree, is placed in one of the pots of
water. Then the wizard recites a long litany or series of
invocations to the ancestors, which may be summarised thus:
"We pray you to help us, in order that our country may
revive and live anew." Then holding a branch in his hand
he climbs a tree and scans the horizon if haply he may
descry a cloud, be it no larger than a man's hand. Should
he be fortunate enough to see one, he waves the branch
to and fro to make the cloud mount up in the sky, while he
also stretches out his arms to right and left to enlarge it so
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page337" id="page337"></a>[pg 337]</span>
that it may hide the sun and overcast the whole heaven.<a id="footnotetag540" name="footnotetag540"></a><a href="#footnote540"><sup>540</sup></a>
Here again the prayers and offerings are purely religious;
while the placing of the skull-shaped stones in pots full
of water, and the waving of the branch to bring up the
clouds, are magical ceremonies designed to produce rain by
mimicry and compulsion.</p>

<p class="side">Stones to make or mar sea-voyages.</p>

<p>Again, the natives have a stone in the shape of a canoe,
which they employ in ceremonies for the purpose of favouring
or hindering navigation. If the sorcerer desires to make
a voyage prosperous, he places the canoe-shaped stone before
the ancestral skulls with the right side up; but if he wishes
to cause his enemy to perish at sea, he places the canoe-shaped
stone bottom upwards before the skulls, which, on
the principles of homoeopathic or imitative magic, must
clearly make his enemy's canoe to capsize and precipitate
its owner into the sea. Whichever of these ceremonies he
performs, the wizard accompanies the magical rite, as usual,
with prayers and offerings of food to the ancestral spirits
who are represented by the skulls.<a id="footnotetag541" name="footnotetag541"></a><a href="#footnote541"><sup>541</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Stones to help fishermen.</p>

<p>The natives of the Isle of Pines subsist mainly by
fishing; hence they naturally have a large number of
sacred stones which they use for the purpose of securing
the blessing of the ancestral spirits on the business of the
fisherman. Indeed each species of fish has its own special
sacred stone. These stones are kept in large shells in a
cemetery. A wizard who desires to make use of one of
them paints the stone with a variety of colours, chews
certain leaves, and then breathes on the stone and moistens
it with his spittle. After that he sets up the stone before
the ancestral skulls, saying, "Help us, that we may be
successful in fishing." The sacrifices to the spirits consist
of bananas, sugar-cane, and fish, never of taros or yams.
After the fishing and the sacrificial meal, the stone is put
back in its place, and covered up respectfully.<a id="footnotetag542" name="footnotetag542"></a><a href="#footnote542"><sup>542</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Stones to make yams grow.</p>

<p>Lastly, the natives of the Isle of Pines cultivate many
different kinds of yams, and they have a correspondingly
large number of sacred stones destined to aid them in the
cultivation by ensuring the blessing of the dead upon the
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page338" id="page338"></a>[pg 338]</span>
work. In shape and colour these stones differ from each
other, each of them bearing a resemblance, real or fanciful,
to the particular species of yam which it is supposed to
quicken. But the method of operating with them is much
the same for all. The stone is placed before the skulls,
wetted with water, and wiped with certain leaves. Yams
and fish, cooked on the spot, are offered in sacrifice to
the dead, the priest or magician saying, "This is your
offering in order that the crop of yams may be good."
So saying he presents the food to the dead and himself
eats a little of it. After that the stone is taken away and
buried in the yam field which it is designed to fertilise.<a id="footnotetag543" name="footnotetag543"></a><a href="#footnote543"><sup>543</sup></a>
Here, again, the prayer and sacrifice to the dead are purely
religious rites intended to propitiate the spirits and secure
their help; while the burying of the yam-shaped stone in
the yam-field to make the yams grow is a simple piece of
homoeopathic or imitative magic. Similarly in order to
cultivate taros and bananas, stones resembling taros and
bananas are buried in the taro field or the banana grove,
and their magical virtue is reinforced by prayers and offerings
to the dead.<a id="footnotetag544" name="footnotetag544"></a><a href="#footnote544"><sup>544</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">The religion of the New Caledonians is mainly a worship of
the dead tinctured with magic.</p>

<p>On the whole we may conclude that among the natives
of New Caledonia there exists a real worship of the dead,
and that this worship is indeed the principal element in
their religion. The spirits of the dead, though they are
supposed to spend part of their time in a happy land far
away under the sea, are nevertheless believed to be near
at hand, hovering about in the burial-grounds or charnel-houses
and embodied apparently in their skulls. To these
spirits the native turns for help in all the important seasons
and emergencies of life; he appeals to them in prayer and
seeks to propitiate them by sacrifice. Thus in his attitude
towards his dead ancestors we perceive the elements of a
real religion. But, as I have just pointed out, many rites
of this worship of ancestors are accompanied by magical
ceremonies. The religion of these islanders is in fact deeply
tinged with magic; it marks a transition from an age of
pure magic in the past to an age of more or less pure
religion in the future.</p>
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page339" id="page339"></a>[pg 339]</span>

<p class="side">Evidence as to the religion of the New Caledonians furnished
by Dr. G. Turner.</p>

<p>Thus far I have based my account of the beliefs and
customs of the New Caledonians concerning the dead on the
valuable information which we owe to the Catholic missionary
Father Lambert. But, as I pointed out, his evidence
refers not so much to the natives of the mainland as to the
inhabitants of certain small islands at the two extremities of
the great island. It may be well, therefore, to supplement
his description by some notes which a distinguished Protestant
missionary, the Rev. Dr. George Turner, obtained in
the year 1845 from two native teachers, one a Samoan and
the other a Rarotongan, who lived in the south-south-eastern
part of New Caledonia for three years.<a id="footnotetag545" name="footnotetag545"></a><a href="#footnote545"><sup>545</sup></a> Their evidence, it
will be observed, goes to confirm Father Lambert's view as
to the general similarity of the religious beliefs and customs
prevailing throughout the island.</p>

<p class="side">Material culture of the New Caledonians.</p>

<p>The natives of this part of New Caledonia were divided
into separate districts, each with its own name, and war, perpetual
war, was the rule between the neighbouring communities.
They cultivated taro, yams, coco-nuts, and sugar-cane;
but they had no intoxicating <i>kava</i> and kept no pigs. They
cooked their food in earthenware pots manufactured by the
women. In former days their only edge-tools were made of
stone, and they felled trees by a slow fire smouldering close
to the ground. Similarly they hollowed out the fallen
trees by means of a slow fire to make their canoes. Their
villages were not permanent. They migrated within certain
bounds, as they planted. A village might comprise as many
as fifty or sixty round houses. The chiefs had absolute
power of life and death. Priests did not meddle in political
affairs.<a id="footnotetag546" name="footnotetag546"></a><a href="#footnote546"><sup>546</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Burial customs; preservation of the skulls and teeth.</p>

<p>At death they dressed the corpse with a belt and shell
armlets, cut off the nails of the fingers and toes, and kept
them as relics. They spread the grave with a mat, and
buried all the body but the head. After ten days the friends
twisted off the head, extracted the teeth to be kept as relics,
and preserved the skull also. In cases of sickness and other
calamities they presented offerings of food to the skulls of
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page340" id="page340"></a>[pg 340]</span>
the dead. The teeth of the old women were taken to the
yam plantations and were supposed to fertilise them; and
their skulls were set up on poles in the plantations for the
same purpose. When they buried a chief, they erected
spears at his head, fastened a spear-thrower to his forefinger,
and laid a club on the top of his grave,<a id="footnotetag547" name="footnotetag547"></a><a href="#footnote547"><sup>547</sup></a> no doubt for
the convenience of the ghost.</p>

<p class="side">Prayers to ancestors.</p>

<p>"Their gods," we are told, "were their ancestors, whose
relics they kept up and idolised. At one place they had
wooden idols before the chiefs' houses. The office of the
priest was hereditary. Almost every family had its priest.
To make sure of favours and prosperity they prayed not
only to their own gods, but also, in a general way, to the
gods of other lands. Fishing, planting, house-building,
and everything of importance was preceded by prayers to
their guardian spirits for success. This was especially the
case before going to battle. They prayed to one for the
eye, that they might see the spear as it flew towards them.
To another for the ear, that they might hear the approach
of the enemy. Thus, too, they prayed for the feet, that they
might be swift in pursuing the enemy; for the heart, that
they might be courageous; for the body, that they might
not be speared; for the head, that it might not be clubbed;
and for sleep, that it might be undisturbed by an attack
of the enemy. Prayers over, arms ready, and equipped
with their relic charms, they went off to battle."<a id="footnotetag548" name="footnotetag548"></a><a href="#footnote548"><sup>548</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">"Grand concert of spirits."</p>

<p>The spirits of the dead were believed to go away into
the forest. Every fifth month they had a "spirit night" or
"grand concert of spirits." Heaps of food were prepared
for the occasion. The people assembled in the afternoon
round a certain cave. At sundown they feasted, and then
one stood up and addressed the spirits in the cave, saying,
"You spirits within, may it please you to sing a song, that
all the women and men out here may listen to your sweet
voices." Thereupon a strange unearthly concert of voices
burst on their ears from the cave, the nasal squeak of old
men and women forming the dominant note. But the
hearers outside listened with delight to the melody, praised
the sweet voices of the singers, and then got up and danced
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page341" id="page341"></a>[pg 341]</span>
to the music. The singing swelled louder and louder as the
dance grew faster and more furious, till the concert closed
in a nocturnal orgy of unbridled license, which, but for the
absence of intoxicants, might compare with the worst of the
ancient bacchanalia. The singers in the cave were the old
men and women who had ensconced themselves in it
secretly during the day; but the hoax was not suspected
by the children and young people, who firmly believed
that the spirits of the dead really assembled that night in
the cavern and assisted at the sports and diversions of the
living.<a id="footnotetag549" name="footnotetag549"></a><a href="#footnote549"><sup>549</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Making rain by means of the bones of the dead.</p>

<p>The souls of the departed also kindly bore a hand in the
making of rain. In order to secure their co-operation for
this beneficent purpose the human rain-maker proceeded as
follows. He blackened himself all over, exhumed a dead
body, carried the bones to a cave, jointed them, and suspended
the skeleton over some taro leaves. After that
he poured water on the skeleton so that it ran down and
fell on the leaves underneath. They imagined that the soul
of the deceased took up the water, converted it into rain, and
then caused it to descend in refreshing showers. But the
rain-maker had to stay in the cavern fasting till his efforts
were crowned with success, and when the ghost was tardy in
executing his commission, the rain-maker sometimes died of
hunger. As a rule, however, they chose the showery months
of March and April for the operation of rain-making, so that
the wizard ran little risk of perishing a martyr to the cause
of science. When there was too much rain, and they wanted
fine weather, the magician procured it by a similar process,
except that instead of drenching the skeleton with water he
lit a fire under it and burned it up,<a id="footnotetag550" name="footnotetag550"></a><a href="#footnote550"><sup>550</sup></a> which naturally induced
or compelled the ghost to burn up the clouds and let the sun
shine out.</p>

<p class="side">Execution of maleficent sorcerers. Reincarnation of the dead
in white people.</p>

<p>Another class of magicians were the maleficent sorcerers
who caused people to fall ill and die by burning their personal
rubbish. When one of these rascals was convicted
of repeated offences of that sort, he was formally tried and
condemned. The people assembled and a great festival was
held. The condemned man was decked with a garland
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page342" id="page342"></a>[pg 342]</span>
of red flowers; his arms and legs were covered with flowers
and shells, and his face and body painted black. Thus
arrayed he came dashing forward, rushed through the
people, plunged from the rocks into the sea, and was
seen no more. The natives also ascribed sickness to the
arts of white men, whom they identified with the spirits
of the dead; and assigned this belief as a reason for their
wish to kill the strangers.<a id="footnotetag551" name="footnotetag551"></a><a href="#footnote551"><sup>551</sup></a></p>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote517" name="footnote517"></a><b>Footnote 517:</b><a href="#footnotetag517"> (return) </a><p> F. H. H. Guillemard, <i>Australasia</i>, II. <i>Malaysia
and the Pacific Archipelagoes</i> (London, 1894), p. 458.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote518" name="footnote518"></a><b>Footnote 518:</b><a href="#footnotetag518"> (return) </a><p> J. Deniker, <i>The Races of Man</i> (London, 1900), pp.
498 <i>sq.</i> As to the mediums of exchange, particularly the
shell-money, see R. H. Codrington, <i>The Melanesians</i> (Oxford,
1891), pp. 323 <i>sqq.</i>; R. Parkinson, <i>Dreissig J&auml;hre in der
S&uuml;dsee</i> (Stuttgart, 1907), pp. 82 <i>sqq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote519" name="footnote519"></a><b>Footnote 519:</b><a href="#footnotetag519"> (return) </a><p>Le P&egrave;re Lambert, <i>M&oelig;urs et Superstitions des
N&eacute;o-Cal&eacute;doniens</i> (Noum&eacute;a, 1900). This work originally appeared as a
series of articles in the Catholic missionary journal <i>Les Missions
Catholiques</i>.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote520" name="footnote520"></a><b>Footnote 520:</b><a href="#footnotetag520"> (return) </a><p>Lambert, <i>M&oelig;urs et Superstitions des
N&eacute;o-Cal&eacute;doniens</i>, pp. ii., iv. <i>sq.</i>; 255.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote521" name="footnote521"></a><b>Footnote 521:</b><a href="#footnotetag521"> (return) </a><p> George Turner, LL.D., <i>Samoa a Hundred Years Ago and
long before</i> (London, 1884), pp. 340 <i>sqq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote522" name="footnote522"></a><b>Footnote 522:</b><a href="#footnotetag522"> (return) </a><p>Lambert, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 13-16.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote523" name="footnote523"></a><b>Footnote 523:</b><a href="#footnotetag523"> (return) </a><p>Lambert, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 235-239.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote524" name="footnote524"></a><b>Footnote 524:</b><a href="#footnotetag524"> (return) </a><p>Lambert, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 238, 239 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote525" name="footnote525"></a><b>Footnote 525:</b><a href="#footnotetag525"> (return) </a><p>Above, pp. 136 <i>sq.</i>, 235 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote526" name="footnote526"></a><b>Footnote 526:</b><a href="#footnotetag526"> (return) </a><p>Lambert, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 24, 240.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote527" name="footnote527"></a><b>Footnote 527:</b><a href="#footnotetag527"> (return) </a><p>Lambert, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 274.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote528" name="footnote528"></a><b>Footnote 528:</b><a href="#footnotetag528"> (return) </a><p>Lambert, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 24, 26.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote529" name="footnote529"></a><b>Footnote 529:</b><a href="#footnotetag529"> (return) </a><p>Lambert, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 211.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote530" name="footnote530"></a><b>Footnote 530:</b><a href="#footnotetag530"> (return) </a><p>Lambert, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 218.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote531" name="footnote531"></a><b>Footnote 531:</b><a href="#footnotetag531"> (return) </a><p>Lambert, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 224 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote532" name="footnote532"></a><b>Footnote 532:</b><a href="#footnotetag532"> (return) </a><p>Lambert, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 275 <i>sqq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote533" name="footnote533"></a><b>Footnote 533:</b><a href="#footnotetag533"> (return) </a><p>Lambert, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 276.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote534" name="footnote534"></a><b>Footnote 534:</b><a href="#footnotetag534"> (return) </a><p>Lambert, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 288 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote535" name="footnote535"></a><b>Footnote 535:</b><a href="#footnotetag535"> (return) </a><p>Lambert, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 290, 292.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote536" name="footnote536"></a><b>Footnote 536:</b><a href="#footnotetag536"> (return) </a><p>Lambert, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 292 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote537" name="footnote537"></a><b>Footnote 537:</b><a href="#footnotetag537"> (return) </a><p>Lambert, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 293 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote538" name="footnote538"></a><b>Footnote 538:</b><a href="#footnotetag538"> (return) </a><p>Lambert, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 294.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote539" name="footnote539"></a><b>Footnote 539:</b><a href="#footnotetag539"> (return) </a><p>Lambert, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 296 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote540" name="footnote540"></a><b>Footnote 540:</b><a href="#footnotetag540"> (return) </a><p>Lambert, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 297 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote541" name="footnote541"></a><b>Footnote 541:</b><a href="#footnotetag541"> (return) </a><p>Lambert, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 298.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote542" name="footnote542"></a><b>Footnote 542:</b><a href="#footnotetag542"> (return) </a><p>Lambert, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 300.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote543" name="footnote543"></a><b>Footnote 543:</b><a href="#footnotetag543"> (return) </a><p>Lambert, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 301 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote544" name="footnote544"></a><b>Footnote 544:</b><a href="#footnotetag544"> (return) </a><p>Lambert, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 217 <i>sq.</i>, 300.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote545" name="footnote545"></a><b>Footnote 545:</b><a href="#footnotetag545"> (return) </a><p> George Turner, LL.D., <i>Samoa a Hundred Years Ago and
long before</i> (London, 1884), pp. 340 <i>sqq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote546" name="footnote546"></a><b>Footnote 546:</b><a href="#footnotetag546"> (return) </a><p>G. Turner, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 340, 341, 343, 344.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote547" name="footnote547"></a><b>Footnote 547:</b><a href="#footnotetag547"> (return) </a><p>G. Turner, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 342 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote548" name="footnote548"></a><b>Footnote 548:</b><a href="#footnotetag548"> (return) </a><p>G. Turner, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 345.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote549" name="footnote549"></a><b>Footnote 549:</b><a href="#footnotetag549"> (return) </a><p>G. Turner, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 346 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote550" name="footnote550"></a><b>Footnote 550:</b><a href="#footnotetag550"> (return) </a><p>G. Turner, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 345 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote551" name="footnote551"></a><b>Footnote 551:</b><a href="#footnotetag551"> (return) </a><p>G. Turner, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 342.</p></blockquote>

<span class="pagenum"><a name="page343" id="page343"></a>[pg 343]</span>




<h2><a name="lecture-xvi" id="lecture-xvi"></a>LECTURE XVI</h2>

<h3>THE BELIEF IN IMMORTALITY AMONG THE NATIVES OF
CENTRAL MELANESIA</h3>


<p class="side">The islands of Central Melanesia. Distinction between the
religion of the Eastern and Western Islanders.</p>

<p>In our survey of savage beliefs and practices concerning the
dead we now pass from New Caledonia, the most southerly
island of Melanesia, to the groups of islands known as the
New Hebrides, the Banks' Islands, the Torres Islands, the
Santa Cruz Islands, and the Solomon Islands, which together
constitute what we may call Central Melanesia.  These
groups of islands may themselves be distinguished into two
archipelagoes, a western and an eastern, of which the Western
comprises the Solomon Islands and the Eastern includes
all the rest. Corresponding to this geographical distinction
there is a religious distinction; for while the religion of the
Western islanders (the Solomon Islanders) consists chiefly in
a fear and worship of the ghosts of the dead, the religion
of the Eastern islanders is characterised mainly by the fear
and worship of spirits which are not supposed ever to have
been incarnate in human bodies. Both groups of islanders,
the Western and the Eastern, recognise indeed both classes
of spirits, namely ghosts that once were men and spirits who
never were men; but the religious bias of the one group is
towards ghosts rather than towards pure spirits, and the
religious bias of the other group is towards pure spirits
rather than towards ghosts. It is not a little remarkable
that the islanders whose bent is towards ghosts
have carried the system of sacrifice and the arts of life to
a higher level than the islanders whose bent is towards pure
spirits; this applies particularly to the sacrificial system,
which is much more developed in the west than in the
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page344" id="page344"></a>[pg 344]</span>
east.<a id="footnotetag552" name="footnotetag552"></a><a href="#footnote552"><sup>552</sup></a> From this it would seem to follow that if a faith in
ghosts is more costly than a faith in pure spirits, it is at
the same time more favourable to the evolution of culture.</p>

<p class="side">Dr. R. H. Codrington on the Melanesians.</p>

<p>For the whole of this region we are fortunate in possessing
the evidence of the Rev. Dr. R. H. Codrington, one of
the most sagacious, cautious, and accurate of observers, who
laboured as a missionary among the natives for twenty-four
years, from 1864 to 1887, and has given us a most valuable
account of their customs and beliefs in his book <i>The
Melanesians</i>, which must always remain an anthropological
classic. In describing the worship of the dead as it is carried
on among these islanders I shall draw chiefly on the copious
evidence supplied by Dr. Codrington; and I shall avail
myself of his admirable researches to enter into considerable
details on the subject, since details recorded by an accurate
observer are far more instructive than the vague generalities
of superficial observers, which are too often all the information
we possess as to the religion of savages.</p>

<p class="side">Melanesian theory of the soul.</p>

<p>In the first place, all the Central Melanesians believe that
man is composed of a body and a soul, that death is the final
parting of the soul from the body, and that after death the
soul continues to exist as a conscious and more or less active
being.<a id="footnotetag553" name="footnotetag553"></a><a href="#footnote553"><sup>553</sup></a> Thus the creed of these savages on this profound
subject agrees fundamentally with the creed of the average
European; if my hearers were asked to state their beliefs
as to the nature of life and death, I imagine that most of
them would formulate them in substantially the same way.
However, when the Central Melanesian savage attempts to
define the nature of the vital principle or soul, which
animates the body during life and survives it after death, he
finds himself in a difficulty; and to continue the parallel I
cannot help thinking that if my hearers in like manner were
invited to explain their conception of the soul, they would
similarly find themselves embarrassed for an answer. But
an examination of the Central Melanesian theory of the soul
would lead us too far from our immediate subject; we must
be content to say that, "whatever word the Melanesian
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page345" id="page345"></a>[pg 345]</span>
people use for soul, they mean something essentially belonging
to each man's nature which carries life to his body with it,
and is the seat of thought and intelligence, exercising therefore
power which is not of the body and is invisible in its
action."<a id="footnotetag554" name="footnotetag554"></a><a href="#footnote554"><sup>554</sup></a> However the soul may be defined, the Melanesians
are universally of opinion that it survives the death of the
body and goes away to some more or less distant region,
where the spirits of all the dead congregate and continue for
the most part to live for an indefinite time, though some
of them, as we shall see presently, are supposed to die
a second death and so to come to an end altogether. In
Western Melanesia, that is, in the Solomon Islands, the
abode of the dead is supposed to be in certain islands, which
differ in the creed of different islanders; but in Eastern
Melanesia the abode of the dead is thought to be a subterranean
region called Panoi.<a id="footnotetag555" name="footnotetag555"></a><a href="#footnote555"><sup>555</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Distinction between ghosts of power and ghosts of no
account.</p>

<p>But though the souls of the departed go away to the
spirit land, nevertheless, with a seeming or perhaps real
inconsistency, their ghosts are also supposed to haunt
their graves and their old homes and to exercise great
power for good or evil over the living, who are accordingly
often obliged to woo their favour by prayer and
sacrifice. According to the Solomon Islanders, however,
among whom ghosts are the principal objects of worship,
there is a great distinction to be drawn among ghosts.
"The distinction," says Dr. Codrington, "is between ghosts
of power and ghosts of no account, between those whose
help is sought and their wrath deprecated, and those from
whom nothing is expected and to whom no observance
is due. Among living men there are some who stand out
distinguished for capacity in affairs, success in life, valour in
fighting, and influence over others; and these are so, it is
believed, because of the supernatural and mysterious powers
which they have, and which are derived from communication
with those ghosts of the dead gone before them who are full
of those same powers. On the death of a distinguished man
his ghost retains the powers that belonged to him in life, in
greater activity and with stronger force; his ghost therefore
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page346" id="page346"></a>[pg 346]</span>
is powerful and worshipful, and so long as he is remembered
the aid of his powers is sought and worship is offered him;
he is the <i>tindalo</i> of Florida, the <i>lio'a</i> of Saa. In every
society, again, the multitude is composed of insignificant
persons, '<i>numerus fruges consumeri nati</i>,' of no particular
account for valour, skill, or prosperity. The ghosts
of such persons continue their insignificance, and are nobodies
after death as before; they are ghosts because all men have
souls, and the souls of dead men are ghosts; they are
dreaded because all ghosts are awful, but they get no
worship and are soon only thought of as the crowd of the
nameless population of the lower world."<a id="footnotetag556" name="footnotetag556"></a><a href="#footnote556"><sup>556</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Ghosts of the great and of the recently dead are chiefly
regarded. Supernatural power (<i>mana</i>) acquired through ghosts.</p>

<p>From this account of Dr. Codrington we see that it is
only the ghosts of great and powerful people who are
worshipped; the ghosts of ordinary people are indeed feared,
but no worship is paid to them. Further, we are told that
it is the ghosts of those who have lately died that are
deemed to be most powerful and are therefore most regarded;
as the dead are forgotten, their ghosts cease to be worshipped,
their power fades away,<a id="footnotetag557" name="footnotetag557"></a><a href="#footnote557"><sup>557</sup></a> and their place in the religion of the
people is taken by the ghosts of the more recently departed.
In fact here, as elsewhere, the existence of the dead seems
to be dependent on the memory of the living; when they
are forgotten they cease to exist. Further, it deserves to be
noticed that in the Solomon Islands what we should call a
man's natural powers and capacities are regarded as supernatural
endowments acquired by communication with a
mighty ghost. If a man is a great warrior, it is not because
he is strong of arm, quick of eye, and brave of heart; it is
because he is supported by the ghost of a dead warrior,
whose power he has drawn to himself through an amulet of
stone tied round his neck, or a tuft of leaves in his belt, or a
tooth attached to one of his fingers, or a spell by the recitation
of which he can enlist the aid of the ghost.<a id="footnotetag558" name="footnotetag558"></a><a href="#footnote558"><sup>558</sup></a> And
similarly with all other pre-eminent capacities and virtues;
in the mind of the Solomon Islanders, they are all supernatural
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page347" id="page347"></a>[pg 347]</span>
gifts and graces bestowed on men by ghosts. This
all-pervading supernatural power the Central Melanesian
calls <i>mana</i>.<a id="footnotetag559" name="footnotetag559"></a><a href="#footnote559"><sup>559</sup></a> Thus for these savages the whole world teems
with ghostly influences; their minds are filled, we may
almost say, obsessed, with a sense of the unseen powers
which encompass and determine even in its minute
particulars the life of man on earth: in their view the
visible world is, so to say, merely a puppet-show of which
the strings are pulled and the puppets made to dance by
hands invisible. Truly the attitude of these savages to
the universe is deeply religious.</p>

<p>We may now consider the theory and practice of the
Central Melanesians on this subject somewhat more in
detail; and in doing so we shall begin with their funeral
customs, which throw much light on their views of death and
the dead.</p>

<p class="side">Burial customs in the Solomon Islands. Land burial and sea
burial. Land-ghosts and sea-ghosts.</p>

<p>Thus, for example, in Florida, one of the Solomon
Islands, the corpse is usually buried.  Common men are
buried in their gardens or plantations, chiefs sometimes in
the village, a chief's child sometimes in the house. If the
ghost of the deceased is worshipped, his grave becomes a
sanctuary (<i>vunuhu</i>); the skull is often dug up and hung
in the house. On the return from the burial the mourners
take a different road from that by which they carried the
corpse to the grave; this they do in order to throw the
ghost off the scent and so prevent him from following them
home.  This practice clearly shews the fear which the
natives feel for the ghosts of the newly dead. A man
is buried with money, porpoise teeth, and some of his
personal ornaments; but, avarice getting the better of
superstition, these things are often secretly dug up again and
appropriated by the living. Sometimes a dying man will
express a wish to be cast into the sea; his friends will
therefore paddle out with the corpse, tie stones to the feet,
and sink it in the depths. In the island of Savo, another of
the Solomon Islands, common men are generally thrown
into the sea and only great men are buried.<a id="footnotetag560" name="footnotetag560"></a><a href="#footnote560"><sup>560</sup></a> The same
distinction is made at Wango in San Cristoval, another of
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page348" id="page348"></a>[pg 348]</span>
the same group of islands; there also the bodies of common
folk are cast into the sea, but men of consequence are buried,
and some relic of them, it may be a skull, a tooth, or a
finger-bone, is preserved in a shrine at the village. From
this difference in burial customs flows a not unimportant
religious difference. The souls of the great people who are
buried on land turn into land-ghosts, and the souls of
commoners who are sunk in the sea turn into sea-ghosts.
The land-ghosts are seen to hover about the villages,
haunting their graves and their relics; they are also heard
to speak in hollow whispers. Their aid can be obtained
by such as know them. The sea-ghosts have taken a great
hold on the imagination of the natives of the south-eastern
Solomon Islands; and as these people love to illustrate
their life by sculpture and painting, they shew us clearly
what they suppose these sea-ghosts to be like. At Wango
there used to be a canoe-house full of sculptures and
paintings illustrative of native life; amongst others there
was a series of scenes like those which are depicted on the
walls of Egyptian tombs. One of the scenes represented
a canoe attacked by sea-ghosts, which were portrayed as
demons compounded partly of human limbs, partly of the
bodies and tails of fishes, and armed with spears and arrows
in the form of long-bodied garfish and flying-fish. If a man
falls ill on returning from a voyage or from fishing on the
rocks, it is thought that one of these sea-ghosts has shot
him. Hence when men are in danger at sea, they seek to
propitiate the ghosts by throwing areca-nuts and fragments
of food into the water and by praying to the ghosts not to
be angry with them. Sharks are also supposed to be
animated by the ghosts of the dead.<a id="footnotetag561" name="footnotetag561"></a><a href="#footnote561"><sup>561</sup></a> It is interesting and
instructive to find that in this part of the world sea-demons,
who might be thought to be pure spirits of nature, are in fact
ghosts of the dead.</p>

<p class="side">Burnt offerings in honour of the dead.</p>

<p>In the island of Florida, two days after the death of a
chief or of any person who was much esteemed, the relatives
and friends assemble and hold a funeral feast, at which they
throw a bit of food into the fire for the ghost, saying, "This
is for you."<a id="footnotetag562" name="footnotetag562"></a><a href="#footnote562"><sup>562</sup></a>  In other of the Solomon Islands morsels of
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page349" id="page349"></a>[pg 349]</span>
food are similarly thrown on the fire at the death-feasts as
the dead man's share.<a id="footnotetag563" name="footnotetag563"></a><a href="#footnote563"><sup>563</sup></a> Thus, in the Shortlands Islands,
when a famous chief named Gorai died, his body was burnt
and his relatives cast food, beads, and other property into
the fire. The dead chief had been very fond of tea, so one
of his daughters threw a cup of tea into the flames. Women
danced a funeral dance round the pyre till the body was
consumed.<a id="footnotetag564" name="footnotetag564"></a><a href="#footnote564"><sup>564</sup></a> Why should the dead man's food and property
be burnt? No explanation of the practice is given by our
authorities, so we are left to conjecture the reason of it. Is
it that by volatilising the solid substance of the food you
make it more accessible to the thin unsubstantial nature
of the ghost? Is it that you destroy the property of the
ghost lest he should come back in person to fetch it and
so haunt and trouble the survivors? Is it that the spirits
of the dead are supposed to reside in the fire on the hearth,
so that offerings cast into the flames are transmitted to
them directly? Whether it is with any such ideas that the
Solomon Islanders throw food into the fire for ghosts, I
cannot say. The whole question of the meaning of burnt
sacrifice is still to a great extent obscure.</p>

<p class="side">Funeral customs in the island of Florida. The ghostly ferry.</p>

<p>At the funeral feast of a chief in the island of Florida
the axes, spears, shield and other belongings of the deceased
are hung up with great lamentations in his house; everything
remains afterwards untouched and the house falls into ruins,
which as time goes on are thickly mantled with the long
tendrils of the sprouting yams.  But we are told that the
weapons are not intended to accompany the ghost to the
land of souls; they are hung up only as a memorial of a
great and valued man. "With the same feeling they cut
down a dead man's fruit-trees as a mark of respect and
affection, not with any notion of these things serving him in
the world of ghosts; he ate of them, they say, when he was
alive, he will never eat again, and no one else shall have
them." However, they think that the ghost benefits by
burial; for if a man is killed and his body remains unburied,
his restless ghost will haunt the place.<a id="footnotetag565" name="footnotetag565"></a><a href="#footnote565"><sup>565</sup></a> The ghosts of such
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page350" id="page350"></a>[pg 350]</span>
Florida people as have been duly buried depart to Betindalo,
which seems to be situated in the south-eastern part of the
great island of Guadalcanar. A ship waits to ferry them
across the sea to the spirit-land. This is almost the only
example of a ferry-boat used by ghosts in Melanesia. On
their way to the ferry the ghosts may be heard twittering;
and again on the shore, while they are waiting for the ferry-boat,
a sound of their dancing breaks the stillness of night;
but no man can see the dancers. It is not until they land
on the further shore that they know they are dead. There
they are met by a ghost, who thrusts a rod into their noses
to see whether the cartilage is pierced as it should be; ghosts
whose noses have been duly bored in life follow the onward
path with ease, but all others have pain and difficulty in
making their way to the realm of the shades. Yet though
the souls of the dead thus depart to Betindalo, nevertheless
their ghosts as usual not only haunt their burial-places, but
come to the sacrifices offered to them and may be heard
disporting themselves at night, playing on pipes, dancing,
and shouting.<a id="footnotetag566" name="footnotetag566"></a><a href="#footnote566"><sup>566</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Belief of the Solomon Islanders that the souls of the dead
live in islands. The second death.</p>

<p>Similarly at Bugotu in the island of Ysabel (one of the
Solomon Islands) the ghosts of the dead are supposed to go
away to an island, and yet to haunt their graves and shew
themselves to the survivors by night. In the island of the
dead there is a pool with a narrow tree-trunk lying across it.
Here is stationed Bolafagina, the ghostly lord of the place.
Every newly arrived ghost must appear before him, and he
examines their hands to see whether they bear the mark
of the sacred frigate-bird cut on them; if they have the
mark, the ghosts pass across the tree-trunk and mingle
with the departed spirits in the world of the dead. But
ghosts who have not the mark on their hands are cast into
the gulf and perish out of their ghostly life: this is the
second death.<a id="footnotetag567" name="footnotetag567"></a><a href="#footnote567"><sup>567</sup></a> The same notion of a second death meets
us in a somewhat different form among the natives of Saa
in Malanta, another of the Solomon Islands. All the ghosts
of these people swim across the sea to two little islands
called Marapa, which lie off Marau in Guadalcanar. There
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page351" id="page351"></a>[pg 351]</span>
the ghosts of children live in one island and the ghosts of
grown-up people in another; for the older people would be
plagued by the chatter of children if they all dwelt together
in one island. Yet in other respects the life of the departed
spirits in these islands is very like life on earth. There are
houses, gardens, and canoes there just as here, but all is thin
and unsubstantial. Living men who land in the islands see
nothing of these things; there is a pool where they hear
laughter and merry cries, and where the banks are wet with
invisible bathers. But the life of the ghosts in these islands
is not eternal. The spirits of common folk soon turn into
the nests of white ants, which serve as food for the more
robust ghosts. Hence a living man will say to his idle son,
"When I die, I shall have ants' nests to eat, but then what
will you have?" The ghosts of persons who were powerful
on earth last much longer. So long as they are remembered
and worshipped by the living, their natural strength remains
unabated; but when men forget them, and turn to worship
some of the more recent dead, then no more food is offered
to them in sacrifice, so they pine away and change into
white ants' nests just like common folk. This is the second
death. However, while the ghosts survive they can return
from the islands to Saa and revisit their village and friends.
The living can even discern them in the form of dim and
fleeting shadows. A man who wishes for any reason to see
a ghost can always do so very simply by taking a pinch of
lime from his betel-box and smearing it on his forehead.
Then the ghost appears to him quite plainly.<a id="footnotetag568" name="footnotetag568"></a><a href="#footnote568"><sup>568</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Burial customs in Saa. Preservation of the skull and jawbone.
Burial customs in Santa Cruz. Burial customs in Ysabel.</p>

<p>In Saa the dead are usually buried in a common cemetery;
but when the flesh has decayed the bones are taken up and
heaped on one side. But if the deceased was a very great
man or a beloved father, his body is preserved for a time in
his son's house, being hung up either in a canoe or in the
carved effigy of a sword-fish. Very favourite children are
treated in the same way. The corpse may be kept in this
way for years.  Finally, there is a great funeral feast, at
which the remains are removed to the common burial-ground,
but the skull and jawbone are detached from the skeleton
and kept in the house enclosed in the hollow wooden figure
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page352" id="page352"></a>[pg 352]</span>
of a bonito-fish. By means of these relics the survivors
think that they can secure the aid of the powerful ghost.
Sometimes the corpse and afterwards the skull and jawbone
are preserved, not in the house of the deceased,
but in the <i>oha</i> or public canoe-house, which so far becomes
a sort of shrine or temple of the dead.<a id="footnotetag569" name="footnotetag569"></a><a href="#footnote569"><sup>569</sup></a> At Santa
Cruz in the Solomon Islands the corpse is buried in a very
deep grave in the house. Inland they dig up the bones
again to make arrow-heads; also they detach the skull and
keep it in a chest in the house, saying that it is the man
himself. They even set food before the skull, no doubt for
the use of the ghost. Yet they imagine that the ghosts of
the dead go to the great volcano Tamami, where they are
burnt in the crater and thus being renewed stay in the fiery
region. Nevertheless the souls of the dead also haunt the
forests in Santa Cruz; on wet and dark nights the natives
see them twinkling in the gloom like fire-flies, and at the
sight they are sore afraid.<a id="footnotetag570" name="footnotetag570"></a><a href="#footnote570"><sup>570</sup></a> So little consistent with itself is
the creed of these islanders touching the state of the dead.
At Bugotu in the island of Ysabel (one of the Solomon
Islands) a chief is buried with his head near the surface and
a fire is kept burning over the grave, in order that the skull
may be taken up and preserved in the house of his successor.
The spirit of the dead chief has now become a worshipful
ghost, and an expedition is sent out to cut off and bring
back human heads in his honour. Any person, not belonging
to the place, whom the head-hunters come across will be
killed by them and his or her skull added to the collection,
which is neatly arranged on the shore. These ghastly
trophies are believed to add fresh spiritual power (<i>mana</i>) to
the ghost of the dead chief. Till they have been procured,
the people of the place take care not to move about. The
grave of the chief is built up with stones and sacrifices are
offered upon it.<a id="footnotetag571" name="footnotetag571"></a><a href="#footnote571"><sup>571</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Beliefs and customs of the Eastern islanders concerning the
dead. Panoi, the subterranean abode of the dead.</p>

<p>Thus far we have been considering the beliefs and
practices concerning the dead which prevail among the
Western Melanesians of the Solomon Islands and Santa
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page353" id="page353"></a>[pg 353]</span>
Cruz. We now turn to those of the Eastern Melanesians,
who inhabit the Torres Islands, the Banks' Islands, and the
New Hebrides. A broad distinction exists between the
ghosts of these two regions in as much as the ghosts of the
Western Melanesians all live in islands, but the ghosts of all
Eastern Melanesians live underground in a subterranean
region which commonly bears the name of Panoi. The
exact position of Panoi has not been ascertained; all that is
regarded as certain is that it is underground. However,
there are many entrances to it and some of them are well
known. One of them, for example, is a rock on the
mountain at Mota, others are at volcanic vents which belch
flames on the burning hill of Garat over the lake at Gaua,
and another is on the great mountain of Vanua Lava. The
ghosts congregate on points of land before their departure,
as well as at the entrances to the underworld, and there on
moonlight nights you may hear the ghostly crew dancing,
singing, shouting, and whistling on the claws of land-crabs.
It is not easy to extract from the natives a precise and consistent
account of the place of the dead and the state of the
spirits in it; nor indeed, as Dr. Codrington justly observes,
would it be reasonable to expect full and precise details on a
subject about which the sources of information are perhaps
not above suspicion. However, as far as can be made out,
Panoi or the abode of the dead is on the whole a happy
region. In many respects it resembles the land of the living;
for there are houses there and villages, and trees with red
leaves, and day and night. Yet all is hollow and unreal.
The ghosts do nothing but talk and sing and dance; there
is no clubhouse there, and though men and women live
together, there is no marrying or giving in marriage. All is
very peaceful, too, in that land; for there is no war and no
tyrant to oppress the people. Yet the ghost of a great man
goes down like a great man among the ghosts, resplendent in
all his trinkets and finery; but like everything else in the
underworld these ornaments, for all the brave show they
make, are mere unsubstantial shadows. The pigs which
were killed at his funeral feast and the food that was heaped
on his grave cannot go down with him into that far country;
for none of these things, not even pigs, have souls. How
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page354" id="page354"></a>[pg 354]</span>
then could they find their way to the spirit world? It is
clearly impossible. The ghosts in the nether world do not
mix indiscriminately. There are separate compartments for
such as died violent deaths. There is one compartment for
those who were shot, there is another for those who were
clubbed, and there is another for those who were done to
death by witchcraft. The ghosts of those who were shot
keep rattling the reeds of the arrows which dealt them their
fatal wounds. Ghosts in the nether world have no knowledge
of things out of their sight and hearing; yet the living
call upon them in time of need and trouble, as if they could
hear and help. Life, too, in the kingdom of shadows is not
eternal. The ghosts die the second death. Yet some say
that there are two such kingdoms, each called Panoi, the one
over the other; and that when the dead die the second death
in the upper realm they rise again from the dead in the
nether realm, where they never die but only turn into white
ants' nests.<a id="footnotetag572" name="footnotetag572"></a><a href="#footnote572"><sup>572</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Distinction between the fate of the good and the fate of the
bad in the other world.</p>

<p>It is interesting and not unimportant to observe that
some of these islanders make a distinction between the fate
of good people and the fate of bad people after death. The
natives of Motlav, one of the Banks' Islands, think that
Panoi is a good place and that only the souls of the good
can enter it. According to them the souls of murderers,
sorcerers, thieves, liars, and adulterers are not suffered to
enter the happy land. The ghost of a murderer, for
example, is met at the entrance by the ghost of his victim,
who withstands him and turns him back. All the bad
ghosts go away to a bad place, where they live, not indeed
in physical pain, but in misery: they quarrel, they are restless,
homeless, pitiable, malignant: they wander back to
earth: they eat the foulest food, their breath is noisome:
they harm the living out of spite, they eat men's souls, they
haunt graves and woods. But in the true Panoi the souls of
the good live in peace and harmony.<a id="footnotetag573" name="footnotetag573"></a><a href="#footnote573"><sup>573</sup></a> Thus these people
believe that the state of the soul after death depends on the
kind of life a man led on earth; if he was good, he will be
happy; if he was bad, he will be miserable. If this creed
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page355" id="page355"></a>[pg 355]</span>
is of purely native origin, and Dr. Codrington seems to
entertain no doubt that it is so, it marks a considerable
ethical advance among those who accept it.</p>

<p class="side">Descent of the living to the world of the dead.</p>

<p>The Eastern Melanesians think that living people can go
down to the land of the dead and return alive to the upper
world. Sometimes they do this in the body, but at other
times only in the spirit, when they are asleep or in a faint;
for at such times their souls quit their bodies and can
wander away down to Panoi. When the living thus make
their way to the spirit land, they are sometimes cautioned by
friendly ghosts to eat nothing there, no doubt lest by partaking
of ghostly food they should be turned to ghosts and
never return to the land of the living.<a id="footnotetag574" name="footnotetag574"></a><a href="#footnote574"><sup>574</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Disposal of the dead among the Eastern islanders. Burial
customs of the Banks' Islanders.</p>

<p>We will now consider the various modes in which the
Eastern Melanesians dispose of their dead; for funeral
customs commonly furnish some indication of the ideas
which a people entertain as to the state of the soul after
death. The Banks' Islanders generally buried their dead in
the forest not far from the village; but if the deceased was
a great man or died a remarkable death, they might inter
him in the village near the men's clubhouse (<i>gamal</i>). A
favourite son or child might be buried in the house itself;
but in such cases the grave would be opened after fifty or a
hundred days and the bones taken up and hidden in the
forest, though some of them might be hung up in the house.
However, in some places there was, and indeed still is, a
custom of keeping the putrefying corpse unburied in the
house as a mark of affection. At Gaua, in Santa Maria, the
body was dried over slow fires for ten days or more, till
nothing but skin and bones remained; and the women who
watched over it during these days drank the juices of putrefaction
which dripped from the decaying flesh. The same
thing used formerly to be done in Mota, another of the
Banks' Islands. The corpses of great men in these islands
were adorned in all their finery and laid out on the open
space in the middle of the village.  Here bunches of coco-nuts,
yams, and other food were heaped up beside the body;
and an orator of fluent speech addressed the ghost telling
him that when he had gone down to Panoi, the spirit land,
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page356" id="page356"></a>[pg 356]</span>
and the ghosts asked him after his rank, he was to give them
a list of all the things heaped beside his dead body; then
the ghosts would know what a great man he was and would
treat him with proper deference. The orator dealt very
candidly with the moral character of the deceased. If he
had been a bad man, the speaker would say, "Poor ghost,
will you be able to enter Panoi? I think not." The food
which is piled up beside the body while the orator is pronouncing
the eulogium or the censure of the departed is
afterwards heaped up on the grave or buried in it. At Gaua
they kill pigs and hang up the carcases or parts of them at
the grave. The object of all this display is to make a
favourable impression on the ghosts in the spirit land, in
order that they may give the newly deceased man a good
reception. When the departed was an eminent warrior or
sorcerer, his friends will sometimes give him a sham burial
and hide his real grave, lest people should dig up his bones
and his skull to make magic with them; for the relics of
such a man are naturally endowed with great magical virtue.<a id="footnotetag575" name="footnotetag575"></a><a href="#footnote575"><sup>575</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Ghosts driven away from the village. Expulsion of the ghosts
of persons who suffered from sores and ulcers.</p>

<p>In these islands the ghost does not at once leave the
neighbourhood of his old body; he shews no haste to depart
to the nether world. Indeed he commonly loiters about the
house and the grave for five or ten days, manifesting his
presence by noises in the house and by lights upon the
grave. By the fifth day his relations generally think that
they have had quite enough of him, and that it is high time
he should set out for his long home. Accordingly they drive
him away with shouts and the blowing of conch-shells or the
booming sound of bull-roarers.<a id="footnotetag576" name="footnotetag576"></a><a href="#footnote576"><sup>576</sup></a> At Ureparapara the mode
of expelling the ghost from the village is as follows. Missiles
to be hurled at the lingering spirit are collected in the shape
of small stones and pieces of bamboo, which have been
charmed by wizards so as to possess a ghost-expelling virtue.
The artillery having been thus provided, the people muster
at one end of the village, armed with bags of enchanted
stones and pieces of enchanted bamboos. The signal to
march is given by two men, who sit in the dead man's house,
one on either side, holding two white stones in their hands,
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page357" id="page357"></a>[pg 357]</span>
which they clink together. At the sound of the clinking the
women begin to wail and the men to march; tramp, tramp
they go like one man through the village from end to end,
throwing stones into the houses and all about and beating
the bamboos together. Thus they drive the reluctant ghost
step by step from the village into the forest, where they
leave him to find his own way down to the land of the dead.
Till that time the widow of the deceased was bound to remain
on his bed without quitting it for a moment except on
necessity; and if she had to leave it for a few minutes she
always left a coco-nut on the bed to represent her till she
came back. The reason for this was that her husband's
ghost was believed to be lingering in the house all these
days, and he would naturally expect to see his wife in the
nuptial chamber. At Motlav the people are not so hard
upon the poor ghosts: they do not drive away all ghosts
from their old homes, but only the ghosts of such as had in
their lifetime the misfortune to be afflicted with grievous
sores and ulcers. The expulsion of such ghosts may therefore
be regarded as a sanitary precaution designed to prevent
the spirits from spreading the disease. When a man
who suffers severely from sores or ulcers lies dying, the
people of his village, taking time by the forelock, send word
to the inhabitants of the next village westwards, warning
them to be in readiness to give the ghost a warm reception.
For it is well known that at their departure from the body
ghosts always go westward towards the setting sun. So
when the poor man is dead, they bury his diseased body in
the village and devote all their energies to the expulsion of
his soul. By blowing blasts on shell-trumpets and beating
the ground with the stalks of coco-nut fronds they chase the
ghost clean away from their own village and on to the next.
The inhabitants of that village meantime are ready to receive
their unwelcome visitor, and beating their bounds in the most
literal sense they soon drive him onwards to the land of their
next neighbours. So the chase goes on from village to
village, till the ghost has been finally hunted into the sea at
the point of the shore which faces the setting sun. There
at last the beaters throw away the stalks which have served
to whack the ghost, and return home in the perfect assurance
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page358" id="page358"></a>[pg 358]</span>
that he has left the island and gone to his own place down
below, so that he cannot afflict anybody with the painful
disease from which he suffered. But as for his ulcerated
corpse rotting in the grave, they do not give a thought to it.
Their concern is with the spiritual and the unseen; they do
not stoop to regard the material and carnal.<a id="footnotetag577" name="footnotetag577"></a><a href="#footnote577"><sup>577</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Special treatment of the ghosts of women who died in
childbed.</p>

<p>A special treatment is accorded to the ghosts of women
who died in childbed. If the mother dies and the child
lives, her ghost will not go away to the nether world without
taking the infant with her. Hence in order to deceive the
ghost, they wrap a piece of a banana-trunk loosely in leaves
and lay it on the bosom of the dead mother when they lower
her into the grave. The ghost clasps the bundle to her
breast, thinking it is her baby, and goes away contentedly
to the spirit land. As she walks, the banana-stalk slips
about in the leaves and she imagines it is the infant stirring;
for she has not all her wits about her, ghosts being naturally
in a dazed state at first on quitting their familiar bodies.
But when she arrives in deadland and finds she has been
deceived, and when perhaps some heartless ghosts even
jeer at her wooden baby, back she comes tearing to earth
in grief and rage to seek and carry off the real infant.
However, the survivors know what to expect and have
taken the precaution of removing the child to another house
where the mother will never find it; but she keeps looking
for it always, and a sad and angry ghost is she.<a id="footnotetag578" name="footnotetag578"></a><a href="#footnote578"><sup>578</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Funeral feasts.</p>

<p>After the funeral follows a series, sometimes a long
series, of funeral feasts, which form indeed one of the
principal institutions of these islands. The number of the
feasts and the length of time during which they are repeated
vary much in the different islands, and depend also on the
consideration in which the deceased was held. The days
on which the feasts are celebrated are the fifth and the tenth
after the death, and afterwards every tenth day up to the
hundredth or even it may be, in the case of a father, a
mother, or a wife, up to the thousandth day. These feasts
appear now to be chiefly commemorative, but they also
benefit the dead; for the ghost is naturally gratified by
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page359" id="page359"></a>[pg 359]</span>
seeing that his friends remember him and do their duty by
him so handsomely. At these banquets food is put aside
for the dead with the words "This is for thee." The
practice of thus setting aside food for the ghost at a series
of funeral feasts appears at first sight, as Dr. Codrington
observes, inconsistent with the theory that the ghosts live
underground.<a id="footnotetag579" name="footnotetag579"></a><a href="#footnote579"><sup>579</sup></a> But the objection thus suggested is rather
specious than real; for we must always bear in mind that,
to judge from the accounts given of them in all countries,
ghosts experience no practical difficulty in obtaining
temporary leave of absence from the other world and
coming to this one, so to say, on furlough for the purpose
of paying a surprise visit to their sorrowing friends and
relations. The thing is so well known that it would be at
once superfluous and tedious to illustrate it at length; many
examples have incidentally met us in the course of these
lectures.</p>

<p class="side">Funeral customs in Vat&eacute; or Efat. Old people buried alive.</p>

<p>The natives of Vat&eacute; or Efat, one of the New Hebrides,
set up a great wailing at a death and scratched their faces
till they streamed with blood.  Bodies of the dead were
buried. When a corpse was laid in the grave, a pig was
brought to the place and its head was chopped off and
thrown into the grave to be buried with the body. This,
we are told, "was supposed to prevent disease spreading
to other members of the family." Probably, in the opinion
of the natives, the pig's head was a sop thrown to the ghost
to keep him from coming and fetching away other people to
deadland.  With the same intention, we may take it, they
buried with the dead the cups, pillows, and other things which
he had used in his lifetime. On the top of the grave they
kindled a fire to enable the soul of the deceased to rise
to the sun. If that were not done, the soul went to the
wretched regions of Pakasia down below. The old were
buried alive at their own request.  It was even deemed a
disgrace to the family of an aged chief if they did not bury
him alive. When an old man felt sick and weak and thought
that he was dying, he would tell his friends to get all ready
and bury him. They yielded to his wishes, dug a deep
round pit, wound a number of fine mats round his body, and
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page360" id="page360"></a>[pg 360]</span>
lowered him into the grave in a sitting posture. Live pigs
were then brought to the brink of the grave, and each of
them was tethered by a cord to one of the old man's arms.
When the pigs had thus, as it were, been made over to him,
the cords were cut, and the animals were led away to be
killed, baked, and eaten at the funeral feast; but the souls of the
pigs the old man took away with him to the spirit land, and
the more of them he took the warmer and more gratifying
was the reception he met with from the ghosts. Having
thus ensured his eternal welfare by the pig strings which
dangled at his arms, the old man was ready; more mats
were laid over him, the earth was shovelled in, and his dying
groans were drowned amid the weeping and wailing of his
affectionate kinsfolk.<a id="footnotetag580" name="footnotetag580"></a><a href="#footnote580"><sup>580</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Burial and mourning customs in Aurora, one of the New
Hebrides. Behaviour of the soul at death.</p>

<p>At Maewo in Aurora, one of the New Hebrides, when
a death has taken place, the body is buried in a grave near
the village clubhouse. For a hundred days afterwards the
female mourners may not go into the open and their faces
may not be seen; they stay indoors and in the dark and
cover themselves with a large mat reaching to the ground.
But the widow goes every day, covered with her mat, to
weep at the grave; this she does both in the morning and
in the afternoon. During this time of mourning the next
of kin may not eat certain succulent foods, such as yams,
bananas, and caladium; they eat only the gigantic caladium,
bread-fruit, coco-nuts, mallows, and so forth; "and all these
they seek in the bush where they grow wild, not eating
those which have been planted." They count five days
after the death and then build up great heaps of stones
over the grave. After that, if the deceased was a very great
man, who owned many gardens and pigs, they count fifty
days and then kill pigs, and cut off the point of the liver
of each pig; and the brother of the deceased goes toward
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page361" id="page361"></a>[pg 361]</span>
the forest and calls out the dead man's name, crying, "This
is for you to eat." They think that if they do not kill pigs
for the benefit of their departed friend, his ghost has no
proper existence, but hangs miserably on tangled creepers.
After the sacrifice they all cry again, smear their bodies and
faces all over with ashes, and wear cords round their necks
for a hundred days in token that they are not eating good
food.<a id="footnotetag581" name="footnotetag581"></a><a href="#footnote581"><sup>581</sup></a> They imagine that as soon as the soul quits the
body at death, it mounts into a tree where there is a bird's
nest fern, and sitting there among the fronds it laughs and
mocks at the people who are crying and making great
lamentations over his deserted tabernacle. "There he sits,
wondering at them and ridiculing them. 'What are they
crying for?' he says; 'whom are they sorry for? Here am
I.' For they think that the real thing is the soul, and that
it has gone away from the body just as a man throws off
his clothes and leaves them, and the clothes lie by themselves
with nothing in them."<a id="footnotetag582" name="footnotetag582"></a><a href="#footnote582"><sup>582</sup></a> This estimate of the comparative
value of soul and body is translated from the words of a
New Hebridean native; it singularly resembles that which
is sometimes held up to our admiration as one of the finest
fruits of philosophy and religion. So narrow may be the
line that divides the meditations of the savage and the sage.</p>

<p class="side">Journey of the ghost to the other world.</p>

<p>When a Maewo ghost has done chuckling at the folly
of his surviving relatives, who sorrow as those who have no
hope, he turns his back on his old home and runs along the
line of hills till he comes to a place where there are two
rocks with a deep ravine between them. He leaps the
chasm, and if he lands on the further side, he is dead
indeed; but if he falls short, he returns to life. At the
land's end, where the mountains descend into the sea, all
the ghosts of the dead are gathered to meet him. If in his
lifetime he had slain any one by club or arrow, or done any
man to death by magic, he must now run the gauntlet of
the angry ghosts of his victims, who beat and tear him and
stab him with daggers such as people stick pigs with; and
as they do so, they taunt him, saying, "While you were still
in the world you thought yourself a valiant man; but now
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page362" id="page362"></a>[pg 362]</span>
we will take our revenge on you." At another point in
the path there is a deep gully, where if a ghost falls he is
inevitably dashed to pieces; and if he escapes this peril,
there is a ferocious pig waiting for him further on, which
devours the ghosts of all persons who in their life on earth
omitted to plant pandanus trees, from which mats are
made. But the wise man, who planted pandanus betimes,
now reaps the fruit of his labours; for when the pig makes
a rush at his departed spirit, the ghost nimbly swarms up
the pandanus tree and so escapes his pursuer. That is why
everybody in Maewo likes to plant pandanus trees. And
if a man's ears were not pierced in his life, his ghost will
not be allowed to drink water; if he was not tattooed, his
ghost may not eat good food. A thoughtful father will
provide for the comfort of his children in the other world
by building a miniature house for each of them in his garden
when the child is a year old; if the infant is a boy, he puts
a bow, an arrow, and a club in the little house; if the child
is a girl, he plants pandanus for her beside the tiny dwelling.<a id="footnotetag583" name="footnotetag583"></a><a href="#footnote583"><sup>583</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Only ghosts of powerful men are worshipped.</p>

<p>So much for the fate of common ghosts in Central
Melanesia. We have now to consider the position of the
more powerful spirits, who after death are believed to exercise
great influence over the living, especially over their surviving
relations, and who have accordingly to be propitiated with
prayer and sacrifice. This worship of the dead, as we saw,
forms the principal feature in the religion of the Solomon
Islanders. "But it must not be supposed," says Dr.
Codrington, "that every ghost becomes an object of worship.
A man in danger may call upon his father, his grandfather,
or his uncle: his nearness of kin is sufficient ground for it.
The ghost who is to be worshipped is the spirit of a man
who in his lifetime had <i>mana</i> [supernatural or magical power]
in him; the souls of common men are the common herd of
ghosts, nobodies alike before and after death. The supernatural
power abiding in the powerful living man abides in
his ghost after death, with increased vigour and more ease
of movement. After his death, therefore, it is expected
that he should begin to work, and some one will come
forward and claim particular acquaintance with the ghost;
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page363" id="page363"></a>[pg 363]</span>
if his power should shew itself, his position is assured as one
worthy to be invoked, and to receive offerings, till his cultus
gives way before the rising importance of one newly dead,
and the sacred place where his shrine once stood and his
relics were preserved is the only memorial of him that
remains; if no proof of his activity appears, he sinks into
oblivion at once."<a id="footnotetag584" name="footnotetag584"></a><a href="#footnote584"><sup>584</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Worship paid chiefly to the recent and well-remembered dead.</p>

<p>From this instructive account we learn that worship is
paid chiefly to the recent and well-remembered dead, to the
men whom the worshippers knew personally and feared or
respected in their lifetime. On the other hand, when men
have been long dead, and all who knew them have also
been gathered to their fathers, their memory fades away and
with it their worship gradually falls into complete desuetude.
Thus the spirits who receive the homage of these savages
were real men of flesh and blood, not mythical beings
conjured up by the fancy of their worshippers, which some
legerdemain of the mind has foisted into the shrine and encircled
with the halo of divinity. Not that the Melanesians
do not also worship beings who, so far as we can see, are
purely mythical, though their worshippers firmly believe in
their reality. But "they themselves make a clear distinction
between the existing, conscious, powerful disembodied spirits
of the dead, and other spiritual beings that never have been
men at all.  It is true that the two orders of beings get
confused in native language and thought, but their confusion
begins at one end and the confusion of their visitors at
another; they think so much and constantly of ghosts that
they speak of beings who were never men as ghosts;
Europeans take the spirits of the lately dead for gods; less
educated Europeans call them roundly devils."<a id="footnotetag585" name="footnotetag585"></a><a href="#footnote585"><sup>585</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Way in which a dead warrior came to be worshipped as a
martial ghost.</p>

<p>As an example of the way in which the ghost of a real
man who has just died may come to be worshipped Dr.
Codrington tells us the story of Ganindo, which he had from
Bishop Selwyn. This Ganindo was a great fighting man
of Honggo in Florida, one of the Solomon Islands. He
went with other warriors on a head-hunting expedition
against Gaeta; but being mortally wounded with an arrow
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page364" id="page364"></a>[pg 364]</span>
near the collar-bone he was brought back by his comrades
to the hill of Bonipari, where he died and was buried. His
friends cut off his head, put it in a basket, built a house
for it, and said that he was a worshipful ghost (<i>tindalo</i>).
Afterwards they said, "Let us go and take heads." So
they embarked on their canoe and paddled away to seek
the heads of enemies. When they came to quiet water,
they stopped paddling and waited till they felt the canoe
rock under them, and when they felt it they said, "That is
a ghost." To find out what particular ghost it was they
called out the names of several, and when they came to the
name of Ganindo, the canoe rocked again. So they knew
that it was he who was making the canoe to rock. In like
manner they learned what village they were to attack.
Returning victorious with the heads of the foe they threw a
spear into the roof of Ganindo's house, blew conch-shells,
and danced round it, crying, "Our ghost is strong to kill!"
Then they sacrificed fish and other food to him. Also they
built him a new house, and made four images of him for
the four corners, one of Ganindo himself, two of his sisters,
and another. When it was all ready, eight men translated
the relics to the new shrine. One of them carried Ganindo's
bones, another his betel-nuts, another his lime-box, another
his shell-trumpet. They all went into the shrine crouching
down, as if burdened by a heavy weight, and singing in
chorus, "Hither, hither, let us lift the leg!" At that the
eight legs went up together, and then they sang, "Hither,
hither!" and at that the eight legs went down together.
In this solemn procession the relics were brought and laid
on a bamboo platform, and sacrifices to the new martial
ghost were inaugurated. Other warlike ghosts revered in
Florida are known not to have been natives of the island
but famous warriors of the western isles, where supernatural
power is believed to be stronger.<a id="footnotetag586" name="footnotetag586"></a><a href="#footnote586"><sup>586</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Offerings to the dead.</p>

<p>Throughout the islands of Central Melanesia prayers and
offerings are everywhere made to ghosts or spirits or to
both. The simplest and commonest sacrificial act is that
of throwing a small portion of food to the dead; this is
probably a universal practice in Melanesia. A morsel of
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page365" id="page365"></a>[pg 365]</span>
food ready to be eaten, for example of yam, a leaf of
mallow, or a bit of betel-nut, is thrown aside; and where
they drink kava, a libation is made of a few drops, as the
share of departed friends or as a memorial of them with
which they will be pleased. At the same time the offerer
may call out the name of some one who either died lately
or is particularly remembered at the time; or without the
special mention of individuals he may make the offering
generally to the ghosts of former members of the community.
To set food on a burial-place or before some memorial
image is a common practice, though in some places, as in
Santa Cruz, the offering is soon taken away and eaten by
the living.<a id="footnotetag587" name="footnotetag587"></a><a href="#footnote587"><sup>587</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Sacrificial ritual in the Solomon Islands.</p>

<p>In the Solomon Islands the sacrificial ritual is more
highly developed. It may be described in the words of a
native of San Cristoval. "In my country," he wrote, "they
think that ghosts are many, very many indeed, some very
powerful, and some not. There is one who is principal in
war; this one is truly mighty and strong. When our
people wish to fight with any other place, the chief men of
the village and the sacrificers and the old men, and the
elder and younger men, assemble in the place sacred to this
ghost; and his name is Harumae. When they are thus
assembled to sacrifice, the chief sacrificer goes and takes a
pig; and if it be not a barrow pig they would not sacrifice
it to that ghost, he would reject it and not eat of it. The
pig is killed (it is strangled), not by the chief sacrificer, but
by those whom he chooses to assist, near the sacred place.
Then they cut it up; they take great care of the blood lest
it should fall upon the ground; they bring a bowl and set
the pig in it, and when they cut it up the blood runs down
into it. When the cutting up is finished, the chief sacrificer
takes a bit of flesh from the pig, and he takes a cocoa-nut
shell and dips up some of the blood. Then he takes the
blood and the bit of flesh and enters into the house (the
shrine), and calls that ghost and says, 'Harumae! Chief in
war! we sacrifice to you with this pig, that you may help
us to smite that place; and whatsoever we shall carry away
shall be your property, and we also will be yours.' Then
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page366" id="page366"></a>[pg 366]</span>
he burns the bit of flesh in a fire upon a stone, and pours
down the blood upon the fire. Then the fire blazes greatly
upwards to the roof, and the house is full of the smell of
pig, a sign that the ghost has heard. But when the
sacrificer went in he did not go boldly, but with awe; and
this is the sign of it; as he goes into the holy house he
puts away his bag, and washes his hands thoroughly, to
shew that the ghost shall not reject him with disgust."
The pig was afterwards eaten. It should be observed that
this Harumae who received sacrifices as a martial ghost,
mighty in war, had not been dead many years when the
foregoing account of the mode of sacrificing to him was
written. The elder men remembered him alive, nor was
he a great warrior, but a kind and generous man, believed
to be plentifully endowed with supernatural power. His
shrine was a small house in the village, where relics of him
were preserved.<a id="footnotetag588" name="footnotetag588"></a><a href="#footnote588"><sup>588</sup></a> Had the Melanesians been left to themselves,
it seems possible that this Harumae might have
developed into the war-god of San Cristoval, just as in
Central Africa another man of flesh and blood is known to
have developed into the war-god of Uganda.<a id="footnotetag589" name="footnotetag589"></a><a href="#footnote589"><sup>589</sup></a></p>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote552" name="footnote552"></a><b>Footnote 552:</b><a href="#footnotetag552"> (return) </a><p> R. H. Codrington, <i>The Melanesians</i> (Oxford, 1891),
pp. 122, 123, 124, 180 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote553" name="footnote553"></a><b>Footnote 553:</b><a href="#footnotetag553"> (return) </a><p> R. H. Codrington, <i>The Melanesians</i> (Oxford, 1891),
pp. 247, 253.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote554" name="footnote554"></a><b>Footnote 554:</b><a href="#footnotetag554"> (return) </a><p>R. H. Codrington, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 248.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote555" name="footnote555"></a><b>Footnote 555:</b><a href="#footnotetag555"> (return) </a><p> R. H. Codrington, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 255 <i>sqq</i>.,
264 <i>sqq</i>.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote556" name="footnote556"></a><b>Footnote 556:</b><a href="#footnotetag556"> (return) </a><p>R. H. Codrington, <i>op. cit.</i> 253 <i>sq</i>.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote557" name="footnote557"></a><b>Footnote 557:</b><a href="#footnotetag557"> (return) </a><p> R. H. Codrington, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 254, 258, 261;
compare <i>id.</i>, pp. 125, 130.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote558" name="footnote558"></a><b>Footnote 558:</b><a href="#footnotetag558"> (return) </a><p>R. H. Codrington, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 120, 254.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote559" name="footnote559"></a><b>Footnote 559:</b><a href="#footnotetag559"> (return) </a><p>R. H. Codrington, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 118 <i>sqq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote560" name="footnote560"></a><b>Footnote 560:</b><a href="#footnotetag560"> (return) </a><p>R. H. Codrington, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 254 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote561" name="footnote561"></a><b>Footnote 561:</b><a href="#footnotetag561"> (return) </a><p>R. H. Codrington, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 258 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote562" name="footnote562"></a><b>Footnote 562:</b><a href="#footnotetag562"> (return) </a><p>R. H. Codrington, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 255.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote563" name="footnote563"></a><b>Footnote 563:</b><a href="#footnotetag563"> (return) </a><p>R. H. Codrington, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 259.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote564" name="footnote564"></a><b>Footnote 564:</b><a href="#footnotetag564"> (return) </a><p> G. Brown, D.D., <i>Melanesians and Polynesians</i>
(London, 1910), pp. 214, 217.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote565" name="footnote565"></a><b>Footnote 565:</b><a href="#footnotetag565"> (return) </a><p>R. H. Codrington, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 255.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote566" name="footnote566"></a><b>Footnote 566:</b><a href="#footnotetag566"> (return) </a><p>R. H. Codrington, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 255 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote567" name="footnote567"></a><b>Footnote 567:</b><a href="#footnotetag567"> (return) </a><p>R. H. Codrington, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 256 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote568" name="footnote568"></a><b>Footnote 568:</b><a href="#footnotetag568"> (return) </a><p>R. H. Codrington, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 260 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote569" name="footnote569"></a><b>Footnote 569:</b><a href="#footnotetag569"> (return) </a><p>R. H. Codrington, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 261 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote570" name="footnote570"></a><b>Footnote 570:</b><a href="#footnotetag570"> (return) </a><p>R. H. Codrington, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 263 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote571" name="footnote571"></a><b>Footnote 571:</b><a href="#footnotetag571"> (return) </a><p>R. H. Codrington, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 257.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote572" name="footnote572"></a><b>Footnote 572:</b><a href="#footnotetag572"> (return) </a><p> R. H. Codrington, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 264, 273
<i>sq.</i>, 275-277.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote573" name="footnote573"></a><b>Footnote 573:</b><a href="#footnotetag573"> (return) </a><p>R. H. Codrington, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 274 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote574" name="footnote574"></a><b>Footnote 574:</b><a href="#footnotetag574"> (return) </a><p> R. H. Codrington, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 266, 276, 277,
286.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote575" name="footnote575"></a><b>Footnote 575:</b><a href="#footnotetag575"> (return) </a><p>R. H. Codrington, <i>The Melanesians</i>, pp. 267-270.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote576" name="footnote576"></a><b>Footnote 576:</b><a href="#footnotetag576"> (return) </a><p>R. H. Codrington, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 269.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote577" name="footnote577"></a><b>Footnote 577:</b><a href="#footnotetag577"> (return) </a><p> R. H. Codrington, <i>The Melanesians</i>, pp. 270
<i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote578" name="footnote578"></a><b>Footnote 578:</b><a href="#footnotetag578"> (return) </a><p>R. H. Codrington, <i>The Melanesians</i>, p. 275.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote579" name="footnote579"></a><b>Footnote 579:</b><a href="#footnotetag579"> (return) </a><p> R. H. Codrington, <i>The Melanesians</i>, pp. 271
<i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote580" name="footnote580"></a><b>Footnote 580:</b><a href="#footnotetag580"> (return) </a><p> G. Turner, <i>Samoa a Hundred Years Ago and long
before</i> (London, 1884), pp. 335 <i>sq.</i> This account is based on
information furnished by Sualo, a Samoan teacher, who lived for a long
time on the island. The statement that the fire kindled on the grave was
intended "to enable the soul of the departed to rise to the sun" may be
doubted; it may be a mere inference of Dr. Turner's Samoan informant.
More probably the fire was intended to warm the shivering ghost. I do
not remember any other evidence that the souls of the Melanesian dead
ascend to the sun; certainly it is much more usual for them to descend
into the earth.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote581" name="footnote581"></a><b>Footnote 581:</b><a href="#footnotetag581"> (return) </a><p>R. H. Codrington, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 281 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote582" name="footnote582"></a><b>Footnote 582:</b><a href="#footnotetag582"> (return) </a><p>R. H. Codrington, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 278 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote583" name="footnote583"></a><b>Footnote 583:</b><a href="#footnotetag583"> (return) </a><p>R. H. Codrington, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 279 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote584" name="footnote584"></a><b>Footnote 584:</b><a href="#footnotetag584"> (return) </a><p> R. H. Codrington, <i>The Melanesians</i>, pp. 124
<i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote585" name="footnote585"></a><b>Footnote 585:</b><a href="#footnotetag585"> (return) </a><p>R. H. Codrington, <i>The Melanesians</i>, p. 121.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote586" name="footnote586"></a><b>Footnote 586:</b><a href="#footnotetag586"> (return) </a><p> R. H. Codrington, <i>The Melanesians</i>, pp. 125
<i>sqq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote587" name="footnote587"></a><b>Footnote 587:</b><a href="#footnotetag587"> (return) </a><p>R. H. Codrington, <i>The Melanesians</i>, pp. 127, 128.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote588" name="footnote588"></a><b>Footnote 588:</b><a href="#footnotetag588"> (return) </a><p> R. H. Codrington, <i>The Melanesians</i>, pp. 129
<i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote589" name="footnote589"></a><b>Footnote 589:</b><a href="#footnotetag589"> (return) </a><p> Rev. J. Roscoe, "Kibuka, the War God of the Baganda,"
<i>Man</i>, vii. (1907) pp. 161-166; <i>id.</i>, <i>The Baganda</i>
(London, 1911), pp. 301 <i>sqq.</i> The history of this African war-god
is more or less mythical, but his personal relics, which are now
deposited in the Ethnological Museum at Cambridge, suffice to prove his
true humanity.</p></blockquote>

<span class="pagenum"><a name="page367" id="page367"></a>[pg 367]</span>




<h2><a name="lecture-xvii" id="lecture-xvii"></a>LECTURE XVII</h2>

<h3>THE BELIEF IN IMMORTALITY AMONG THE NATIVES
OF CENTRAL MELANESIA (<i>concluded</i>)</h3>


<p class="side">Public sacrifices to ghosts in the Solomon Islands.</p>

<p>At the close of last lecture I described the mode in which
sacrifices are offered to a martial ghost in San Cristoval,
one of the Solomon Islands. We saw that the flesh of a
pig is burned in honour of the ghost and that the victim's
blood is poured on the flames. Similarly in Florida, another
of the Solomon Islands, food is conveyed to worshipful
ghosts by being burned in the fire. Some ghosts are known
by name to everybody, others may be known only to
individuals, who have found out or been taught how to
approach them, and who accordingly regard such ghosts
as their private property. In every village a public ghost
is worshipped, and the chief is the sacrificer. He has
learned from his predecessor how to throw or heave the
sacrifice, and he imparts this knowledge to his son or
nephew, whom he intends to leave as his successor. The
place of sacrifice is an enclosure with a little house or shrine
in which the relics are kept; it is new or old according as
the man whose ghost is worshipped died lately or long ago.
When a public sacrifice is performed, the people assemble
near but not in the sacred place; boys but not women may
be present. The sacrificer alone enters the shrine, but he
takes with him his son or other person whom he has instructed
in the ritual. Muttering an incantation he kindles
a fire of sticks, but may not blow on the holy flame. Then
from a basket he takes some prepared food, such as a mash
of yams, and throws it on the fire, calling out the name of
the ghost and bidding him take his food, while at the same
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page368" id="page368"></a>[pg 368]</span>
time he prays for whatever is desired. If the fire blazes
up and consumes the food, it is a good sign; it proves that
the ghost is present and that he is blowing up the flame.
The remainder of the food the sacrificer takes back to the
assembled people; some of it he eats himself and some of
it he gives to his assistant to eat. The people receive their
portions of the food at his hands and eat it or take it away.
While the sacrificing is going on, there is a solemn silence.
If a pig is killed, the portion burned in the sacrificial fire
is the heart in Florida, but the gullet at Bugotu. One
ghost who is commonly known and worshipped is called
Manoga. When the sacrificer invokes this ghost, he heaves
the sacrifice round about and calls him, first to the east,
where rises the sun, saying, "If thou dwellest in the east,
where rises the sun, Manoga! come hither and eat thy
<i>tutu</i> mash!" Then turning he lifts it towards where sets
the sun, and says, "If thou dwellest in the west, where sets
the sun, Manoga! come hither and eat thy <i>tutu</i>!" There
is not a quarter to which he does not lift it up. And when
he has finished lifting it he says, "If thou dwellest in heaven
above, Manoga! come hither and eat thy <i>tutu</i>! If thou
dwellest in the Pleiades or Orion's belt; if below in Turivatu;
if in the distant sea; if on high in the sun, or in the moon;
if thou dwellest inland or by the shore, Manoga! come
hither and eat thy <i>tutu</i>!"<a id="footnotetag590" name="footnotetag590"></a><a href="#footnote590"><sup>590</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">First-fruits of the canarium nuts sacrificed to ghosts.</p>

<p>Twice a year there are general sacrifices in which the
people of a village take part. One of these occasions is
when the canarium nut, so much used in native cookery,
is ripe. None of the nuts may be eaten till the first-fruits
have been offered to the ghost. "Devil he eat first; all
man he eat behind," is the lucid explanation which a native
gave to an English enquirer. The knowledge of the way
in which the first-fruits must be offered is handed down
from generation to generation, and the man who is learned
in this lore has authority to open the season. He observes
the state of the crop, and early one morning he is heard
to shout. He climbs a tree, picks some nuts, cracks them,
eats, and puts some on the stones in his sacred place for
the ghost. Then the rest of the people may gather the
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page369" id="page369"></a>[pg 369]</span>
nuts for themselves. The chief himself sacrifices the new
nuts, mixed with other food, to the public ghost on the
stones of the village sanctuary; and every man who has a
private ghost of his own does the same in his own sacred
place. About two months afterwards there is another
public sacrifice when the root crops generally have been
dug; pig or fish is then offered; and a man who digs up
his yams, or whatever it may be, offers his private sacrifice
besides.<a id="footnotetag591" name="footnotetag591"></a><a href="#footnote591"><sup>591</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Sacrifice of first-fruits to ancestral spirits in Tanna.</p>

<p>In like manner the natives of Tanna, one of the Southern
New Hebrides, offered the first-fruits to the deified spirits
of their ancestors. On this subject I will quote the evidence
of the veteran missionary, the Rev. Dr. George Turner, who
lived in Tanna for seven months in 1841. He says: "The
general name for gods seemed to be <i>aremha</i>; that means
a <i>dead man</i>, and hints alike at the origin and nature of
their religious worship. The spirits of their departed
ancestors were among their gods. Chiefs who reach an
advanced age were after death deified, addressed by name,
and prayed to on various occasions. They were supposed
especially to preside over the growth of the yams and the
different fruit trees. The first-fruits were presented to them,
and in doing this they laid a little of the fruit on some
stone, or shelving branch of the tree, or some more temporary
altar of a few rough sticks from the bush, lashed together
with strips of bark, in the form of a table, with its four feet
stuck in the ground. All being quiet, the chief acted as
high priest, and prayed aloud thus: 'Compassionate father!
here is some food for you; eat it; be kind to us on account
of it.' And, instead of an <i>amen</i>, all united in a shout.
This took place about mid-day, and afterwards those who
were assembled continued together feasting and dancing
till midnight or three in the morning."<a id="footnotetag592" name="footnotetag592"></a><a href="#footnote592"><sup>592</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Private ghosts. Fighting ghosts kept as auxiliaries.</p>

<p>In addition to the public ghosts, each of whom is revered
by a whole village, many a man keeps, so to say, a private or
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page370" id="page370"></a>[pg 370]</span>
tame ghost of his own on leash. The art of taming a ghost
consists in knowing the leaves, bark, and vines in which he
delights and in treating him accordingly. This knowledge
a man may acquire by the exercise of his natural faculties
or he may learn it from somebody else. However he may
obtain the knowledge, he uses it for his own personal
advantage, sacrificing to the ghost in order to win his
favour and get something from him in return. The mode
of sacrificing to a private ghost is the same as to a public
ghost. The owner has a sacred place or private chapel of
his own, where he draws near to the ghost in prayer and
burns his bit of food in the fire. A man often keeps a
fighting ghost (<i>keramo</i>), who helps him in battle or in
slaying his private enemy. Before he goes out to commit
homicide, he pulls up his ginger-plant and judges from the
ease or difficulty with which the plant yields to or resists
his tug, whether he will succeed in the enterprise or not.
Then he sacrifices to the ghost, and having placed some
ginger and leaves on his shield, and stuffed some more in
his belt and right armlet, he sallies forth. He curses his
enemy by his fighting ghost, saying, "Siria (if that should
be the name of the ghost) eats thee, and I shall slay thee";
and if he kills him, he cries to the ghost, "Thine is this
man, Siria, and do thou give me supernatural power!"
No prudent Melanesian would attempt to commit manslaughter
without a ghost as an accomplice; to do so would
be to court disaster, for the slain man's ghost would have
power over the slayer; therefore before he imbrues his
hands in blood he deems it desirable to secure the assistance
of a valiant ghost who can, if need be, overcome the ghost
of his victim in single combat. If he cannot procure such
a useful auxiliary in any other way, he must purchase
him. Further, he fortifies himself with some personal relic,
such as a tooth or lock of hair of the deceased warrior,
whose ghost he has taken into his service; this relic he
wears as an amulet in a little bag round the neck, when
he is on active service; at other times it is kept in the
house.<a id="footnotetag593" name="footnotetag593"></a><a href="#footnote593"><sup>593</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Garden ghosts.</p>

<p>Different from these truculent spirits are the peaceful
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page371" id="page371"></a>[pg 371]</span>
ghosts who cause the garden to bear fruit. If the gardener
happens to know such a ghost, he can pray and sacrifice
to him on his own account; but if he has no such friend
in the spirit world, he must employ an expert. The man
of skill goes into the midst of the garden with a little mashed
food in his left hand, and smiting it with his right hand he
calls on the ghost to come and eat. He says: "This produce
thou shall eat; give supernatural power (<i>mana</i>) to
this garden, that food may be good and plentiful." He
digs holes at the four corners of the garden, and in them
he buries such leaves as the ghost loves, so that the garden
may have ghostly power and be fruitful. And when the
yams sprout, he twines them with the particular creeper
and fastens them with the particular wood to which the
ghost is known to be partial. These agricultural ghosts
are very sensitive; if a man enters the garden, who has just
eaten pork or cuscus or fish or shell-fish, the ghost of the
garden manifests his displeasure by causing the produce of
the garden to droop; but if the eater lets three or four days
go by after his meal, he may then enter the garden with
impunity, for the food has left his stomach. For a similar
reason, apparently, when the yam vines are being trained,
the men sleep near the gardens and never approach their
wives; for should they tread the garden after conjugal
intercourse, the yams would be blighted.<a id="footnotetag594" name="footnotetag594"></a><a href="#footnote594"><sup>594</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Human sacrifices to ghosts.</p>

<p>Sometimes the favour of a ghost is obtained by human
sacrifices. On these occasions the flesh of the victim does
not, like the flesh of a pig, furnish the materials of a
sacrificial banquet; but little bits of it are eaten by young
men to improve their fighting power and by elders for a
special purpose. Such sacrifices are deemed more effectual
than the sacrifices of less precious victims; and advantage
was sometimes taken of a real or imputed crime to offer
the criminal to some ghost. So, for example, within living
memory Dikea, chief of Ravu, convicted a certain man of
stealing tobacco, and sentenced him to be sacrificed; and
the grown lads ate pieces of him cooked in the sacrificial
fire. Again, the same chief offered another human sacrifice
in the year 1886. One of his wives had proved false, and
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page372" id="page372"></a>[pg 372]</span>
he sent her away vowing that she should not return till
he had offered a human sacrifice to Hauri. Also his son
died, and he vowed to kill a man for him. The vow was
noised abroad, and everybody knew that he would pay well
for somebody to kill. Now the Savo people had bought
a captive boy in Guadalcanar, but it turned out a bad
bargain, for the boy was lame and nearly blind. So they
brought him to Dikea, and he gave them twenty coils of
shell money for the lad. Then the chief laid his hand on
the victim's breast and cried, "Hauri! here is a man for
you," and his followers killed him with axes and clubs.
The cripple's skull was added to the chief's collection, and
his legs were sent about the country to make known what
had been done. In Bugotu of Ysabel, when the people
had slain an enemy in fight, they used to bring back his
head in triumph, cut slices off it, and burn them in sacrifice.
And if they took a prisoner alive, they would bring him
to the sacred place, the grave of the man whose ghost was
to be honoured. There they bound him hand and foot
and buffeted him till he died, or if he did not die under
the buffets they cut his throat. As they beat the man
with their fists, they called on the ghost to take him, and
when he was dead, they burned a bit of him in the fire for
the ghost.<a id="footnotetag595" name="footnotetag595"></a><a href="#footnote595"><sup>595</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Sacrifices to ghosts in Saa.</p>

<p>At Saa in Malanta, one of the Solomon Islands, sacrifices
are offered to ghosts on various occasions. Thus on his
return from a voyage a man will put food in the case which
contains the relics of his dead father; and in the course of
his voyage, if he should land in a desert isle, he will throw
food and call on father, grandfather, and other deceased
friends. Again, when sickness is ascribed to the anger of a
ghost, a man of skill is sent for to discover what particular
ghost is doing the mischief. When he has ascertained the
culprit, he is furnished by the patient's relatives with a little
pig, which he is to sacrifice to the ghost as a substitute
for the sick man. Provided with this vicarious victim he
repairs to the haunt of the ghost, strangles the animal, and
burns it whole in a fire along with grated yam, coco-nut,
and fish. As he does so, he calls out the names of all the
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page373" id="page373"></a>[pg 373]</span>
ghosts of his family, his ancestors, and all who are deceased,
down even to children and women, and he names the man
who furnished the pig for the ghostly repast. A portion
of the mixed food he preserves unburnt, wraps it in a
dracaena leaf, and puts it beside the case which contains the
relics of the man to whose ghost the sacrifice has been
offered. Sometimes, however, instead of burning a pig in
the fire, which is an expensive and wasteful form of sacrifice,
the relatives of the sick man content themselves with
cooking a pig or a dog in the oven, cutting up the carcase,
and laying out all the parts in order. Then the sacrificer
comes and sits at the animal's head, and calls out the names
of all the dead members of the ghost's family in order
downwards, saying, "Help, deliver this man, cut short the
line that has bound him." Then the pig is eaten by all
present except the women; nothing is burnt.<a id="footnotetag596" name="footnotetag596"></a><a href="#footnote596"><sup>596</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Sacrifices of first-fruits to ghosts in Saa.</p>

<p>The last sort of sacrifices to ghosts at Saa which we
need notice is the sacrifice of first-fruits. Thus, when the
yams are ripe the people fetch some of them from each
garden to offer to the ghosts. All the male members of
the family assemble at the holy place which belongs to
them. Then one of them enters the shrine, lays a yam
beside the skull which lies there, and cries with a loud voice
to the ghost, "This is yours to eat." The others call
quietly on the names of all the ancestors and give their
yams, which are very many in number, because one from
each garden is given to each ghost. If any man has besides
a relic of the dead, such as a skull, bones, or hair, in his
house, he takes home a yam and sets it beside the relic.
Again, the first flying-fish of the season are sacrificed to
ghosts, who may take the form of sharks; for we shall see
presently that Melanesian ghosts are sometimes supposed
to inhabit the bodies of these ferocious monsters. Some
ghost-sharks have sacred places ashore, where figures of
sharks are set up. In that case the first flying-fish are
cooked and set before the shark images. But it may be
that a shark ghost has no sacred place on land, and then
there is nothing for it but to take the flying-fish out to sea
and shred them into the water, while the sacrificer calls
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page374" id="page374"></a>[pg 374]</span>
out the name of the particular ghost whom he desires to
summon to the feast.<a id="footnotetag597" name="footnotetag597"></a><a href="#footnote597"><sup>597</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Vicarious sacrifices for the sick.</p>

<p>Vicarious sacrifices for the sick are offered in San
Cristoval to a certain malignant ghost called Tapia, who is
believed to seize a man's soul and tie it up to a banyan
tree. When that has happened, a man who knows how to
manage Tapia intercedes with him. He takes a pig or fish
to the sacred place and offers it to the grim ghost, saying,
"This is for you to eat in place of that man; eat this, don't
kill him." With that he can loose the captive soul and
take it back to the sick man, who thereupon recovers.<a id="footnotetag598" name="footnotetag598"></a><a href="#footnote598"><sup>598</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Sacrifices to ghosts in Santa Cruz. The dead represented by a
stock.</p>

<p>In Santa Cruz the sacrifices offered to ghosts are very
economical; for if the offering is of food, the living eat it
up after a decent interval; if it is a valuable, they remove it
and resume the use of it themselves. The principle of this
spiritual economy probably lies in the common belief that
ghosts, being immaterial, absorb the immaterial essence of
the objects, leaving the material substance to be enjoyed by
men. When a man of mark dies in Santa Cruz, his relations
set up a stock of wood in his house to represent him. This
is renewed from time to time, till after a while the man is
forgotten or thrown into the shade by the attractions of
some newer ghost, so that the old stock is neglected. But
when the stock is first put up, a pig is killed and two strips
of flesh from the back bone are set before the stock as food
for the ghost, but only to be soon taken away and eaten by
the living. Similar offerings may be repeated from time to
time, as when the stock is renewed. Again, when a garden
is planted, they spread feather-money and red native cloth
round it for the use of the ghost; but his enjoyment of these
riches is brief and precarious.<a id="footnotetag599" name="footnotetag599"></a><a href="#footnote599"><sup>599</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Native account of sacrifices to ghosts in Santa Cruz.</p>

<p>To supplement the foregoing account of sacrifices to
ghosts in Santa Cruz, I will add a description of some of
them which was given by a native of Santa Cruz in his own
language and translated for us by a missionary. It runs
thus: "When anyone begins to fall sick he seeks a doctor
(<i>meduka</i>), and when the doctor comes near the sick man he
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page375" id="page375"></a>[pg 375]</span>
stiffens his body, and all those in the house think a ghost
has entered into the doctor, and they are all very quiet.
Some doctors tell the sick man's relatives to kill a pig for
the ghost who has caused the sickness. When they have
killed the pig they take it into the ghost-house and invite
some other men, and they eat with prayers to the ghost; and
the doctor takes a little piece and puts it near the base of the
ghost-post, and says to it: 'This is thy food; oh, deliver
up again the spirit of thy servant, that he may be well
again.' The little portion they have offered to the ghost is
then eaten; but small boys may not eat of it."<a id="footnotetag600" name="footnotetag600"></a><a href="#footnote600"><sup>600</sup></a> "Every
year the people plant yams and tomagos; and when they
begin to work and have made ready the place and begun to
plant, first, they offer to the ghost who they think presides
over foods. There is an offering place in the bush, and
they go there and take much food, and also feather money.
Men, women, and children do this, and they think the ghost
notices if there are many children, and gives much food at
harvest; and the ghost to whom they offer is named Ilene.
When the bread-fruit begins to bear they take great care
lest anyone should light a fire near the bole of the tree, or
throw a stone at the tree. The ghost, who they think protects
the bread-fruit, is called Duka-Kane or Kae Tuabia,
who has two names; they think this ghost has four eyes."<a id="footnotetag601" name="footnotetag601"></a><a href="#footnote601"><sup>601</sup></a>
"The heathen thinks a ghost makes the sun to shine and
the rain. If it is continual sunshine and the yams are
withering the people assemble together and contribute
money, and string it to the man with whom the rain-ghost
abides, and food also, and beseech him not to do the thing
he was doing. That man will not wash his face for a long
time, he will not work lest he perspire and his body be wet,
for he thinks that if his body be wet it will rain. Then
this man, with whom the rain-ghost is, takes water and
goes into the ghost-house and sprinkles it at the head of
the ghost-post (<i>duka</i>), and if there are many ghost-posts in
the house he pours water over them all that it may rain."<a id="footnotetag602" name="footnotetag602"></a><a href="#footnote602"><sup>602</sup></a></p>

<span class="pagenum"><a name="page376" id="page376"></a>[pg 376]</span>

<p class="side">Combination of magic with religion.</p>

<p>In these ceremonies for the making of rain we see a
combination of magic with religion. The appeal to the
rain-ghost is religious; but the pouring of the water on the
ghost-post is magical, being an imitation of the result which
the officiating priest or magician, whichever we choose to
call him, desires to produce. The taboos observed by the
owner of the rain-ghost so long as he wishes to prevent the
rain from falling are also based on the principle of homoeopathic
or imitative magic: he abstains from washing his
face or working, lest the water or the sweat trickling down
his body should mimick rain and thereby cause it to fall.<a id="footnotetag603" name="footnotetag603"></a><a href="#footnote603"><sup>603</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Prayers to the dead.</p>

<p>The natives of Aneiteum, one of the Southern New
Hebrides, worshipped the spirits of their ancestors, chiefly
on occasions of sickness.<a id="footnotetag604" name="footnotetag604"></a><a href="#footnote604"><sup>604</sup></a> Again, the people of Vat&eacute; or
Efat, another of the New Hebrides, worshipped the souls of
their forefathers and prayed to them over the <i>kava</i>-bowl for
health and prosperity.<a id="footnotetag605" name="footnotetag605"></a><a href="#footnote605"><sup>605</sup></a> As an example of prayers offered to
the dead we may take the petition which the natives of Florida
put up at sea to Daula, a well-known ghost, who is associated
with the frigate-bird. They say: "Do thou draw the canoe,
that it may reach the land; speed my canoe, grandfather,
that I may quickly reach the shore whither I am bound.
Do thou, Daula, lighten the canoe, that it may quickly
gain the land and rise upon the shore." They also invoke
Daula to help them in fishing. "If thou art powerful,
O Daula," they say, "put a fish or two into this net and let
them die there." After a good catch they praise him,
saying, "Powerful is the ghost of the net." And when the
natives of Florida are in danger on the sea, they call upon
their immediate forefathers; one will call on his grandfather,
another on his father, another on some dead friend,
calling with reverence and saying, "Save us on the deep!
Save us from the tempest! Bring us to the shore!" In San
Cristoval people apply to ghosts for victory in battle, health
in sickness, and good crops; but the word which they use to
signify such an application conveys the notion of charm
rather than of prayer. However, in the Banks' Islands
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page377" id="page377"></a>[pg 377]</span>
what may be called prayer is strictly speaking an invocation
of the dead; indeed the very word for prayer (<i>tataro</i>) seems
to be identical with that for a powerful ghost (<i>'ataro</i> in San
Cristoval). A man in peril on the sea will call on his dead
friends, especially on one who was in his lifetime a good
sailor. And in Mota, when an oven is opened, they throw
in a leaf of cooked mallow for a ghost, saying to him, "This
is a lucky bit for your eating; they who have charmed your
food or clubbed you (as the case may be), take hold of their
hands, drag them away to hell, let them be dead." So
when they pour water on the oven, they pray to the ghost,
saying, "Pour it on the head of him down there who has
laid plots against me, has clubbed me, has shot me, has
stolen things of mine (as the case may be), he shall die."
Again, when they make a libation before drinking, they
pray, saying, "Grandfather! this is your lucky drop of
kava; let boars come in to me; the money I have spent,
let it come back to me; the food that is gone, let it come
back hither to the house of you and me." And on starting
for a voyage they will say, "Uncle! father! plenty of boars
for you, plenty of money; kava for your drinking, lucky
food for your eating in the canoe. I pray you with this,
look down upon me, let me go on a safe sea." Or when
the canoe labours with a heavy freight, they will pray,
"Take off your burden from us, that we may speed on a
safe sea."<a id="footnotetag606" name="footnotetag606"></a><a href="#footnote606"><sup>606</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Sanctuaries of ghosts in Florida.</p>

<p>In the island of Florida, the sanctuary of a powerful
ghost is called a <i>vunuhu</i>. Sometimes it is in the village,
sometimes in the garden-ground, sometimes in the forest.
If it is in the village, it is fenced about, lest the foot of any
rash intruder should infringe its sanctity. Sometimes the
sanctuary is the place where the dead man is buried; sometimes
it merely contains his relics, which have been translated
thither. In some sanctuaries there is a shrine and in
some an image. Generally, if not always, stones may be
seen lying in such a holy place. The sight of one of them
has probably struck the fancy of the man who founded the
worship; he thought it a likely place for the ghost to
haunt, and other smaller stones and shells have been
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page378" id="page378"></a>[pg 378]</span>
subsequently added. Once a sanctuary has been established,
everything within it becomes sacred (<i>tambu</i>) and belongs to
the ghost. Were a tree growing within it to fall across the
path, nobody would step over it. When a sacrifice is to be
offered to the ghost on the holy ground, the man who knows
the ghost, and whose duty it is to perform the sacrifice,
enters first and all who attend him follow, treading in his
footsteps. In going out no one will look back, lest his
soul should stay behind. No one would pass such a
sanctuary when the sun was so low as to cast his shadow
into it; for if he did the ghost would seize his shadow and
so drag the man himself into his den. If there were a
shrine in the sanctuary, nobody but the sacrificer might
enter it. Such a shrine contained the weapons and other
properties which belonged in his lifetime to the man whose
ghost was worshipped on the spot.<a id="footnotetag607" name="footnotetag607"></a><a href="#footnote607"><sup>607</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Sanctuaries of ghosts in Malanta.</p>

<p>At Saa in Malanta, another of the Solomon Islands, all
burial-grounds where common people are interred are so
far sacred that no one will go there without due cause;
but places where the remains of nobles repose, and where
sacrifices are offered to their ghosts, are regarded with very
great respect, they may indeed be called family sanctuaries.
Some of them are very old, the powerful ghosts who are
worshipped in them being remote ancestors. It sometimes
happens that the man who used to sacrifice in such a place
dies without having instructed his son in the proper chant
of invocation with which the worshipful ghost should be
approached. In such a case the young man who succeeds
him may fear to go to the old sanctuary, lest he should
commit a mistake and offend the ghost; so he will take
some ashes from the old sacrificial fire-place and found a
new sanctuary. It is not common in that part of Malanta
to build shrines for the relics of the dead, but it is sometimes
done. Such shrines, on the other hand, are common
in the villages of San Cristoval and in the sacred places of
that island where great men lie buried. To trespass on
them would be likely to rouse the anger of the ghosts, some
of whom are known to be of a malignant disposition.<a id="footnotetag608" name="footnotetag608"></a><a href="#footnote608"><sup>608</sup></a></p>

<span class="pagenum"><a name="page379" id="page379"></a>[pg 379]</span>

<p class="side">Sanctuaries which are not burial-grounds.</p>

<p>But burial-grounds are not the only sanctuaries in the
Solomon Islands. There are some where no dead man is
known to be interred, though in Dr. Codrington's opinion
there are probably none which do not derive their sanctity
from the presence of a ghost. In the island of Florida the
appearance of something wonderful will cause any place to
become a sanctuary, the wonder being accepted as proof of
a ghostly presence. For example, in the forest near Olevuga
a man planted some coco-nut and almond trees and died
not long afterwards. Then there appeared among the trees
a great rarity in the shape of a white cuscus. The people
took it for granted that the animal was the dead man's
ghost, and therefore they called it by his name. The place
became a sanctuary; no one would gather the coco-nuts and
almonds that grew there, till two Christian converts set the
ghost at defiance and appropriated his garden, with the
coco-nuts and almonds. Through the same part of the
forest ran a stream full of eels, one of which was so big that
the people were quite sure it must be a ghost; so nobody
would bathe in that stream or drink from it, except at one
pool, which for the sake of convenience was considered not
to be sacred. Again, in Bugotu, a district of Ysabel, which
is another of the Solomon Islands, there is a pool known to
be the haunt of a very old ghost. When a man has an
enemy whom he wishes to harm he will obtain some scraps
of his food and throw them into the water. If the food is
at once devoured by the fish, which swarm in the pool,
the man will die, but otherwise his life may be saved by the
intervention of a man who knows the habits of the ghost
and how to propitiate him. In these sacred places there
are stones, on which people place food in order to obtain
good crops, while for success in fishing they deposit morsels
of cooked fish. Such stones are treated with reverence and
seem to be in a fair way to develop into altars. However,
when the old ghost is superseded, as he often is, by younger
rivals, the development of an altar out of the stones is
arrested.<a id="footnotetag609" name="footnotetag609"></a><a href="#footnote609"><sup>609</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Ghosts in animals, such as sharks, alligators, snakes,
bonitos, and frigate-birds.</p>

<p>From some of these instances we learn that Melanesian
ghosts can sometimes take up their abode in animals, such
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page380" id="page380"></a>[pg 380]</span>
as cuscuses, eels, and fish. The creatures which are oftenest
used as vehicles by the spirits of the dead are sharks,
alligators, snakes, bonitos, and frigate-birds. Snakes which
haunt a sacred place are themselves sacred, because they
belong to or actually embody the ghost. Sharks, again, in
all these islands are very often thought to be the abode of
ghosts; for men before their death will announce that they
will appear as sharks, and afterwards any shark remarkable
for size or colour which haunts a certain shore or coast is
taken to be somebody's ghost and receives the name of the
deceased. At Saa certain food, such as coco-nuts from
particular trees, is reserved to feed such a ghost-shark;
and men of whom it is known for certain that they will
be sharks after their death are allowed to anticipate the
posthumous honours which await them by devouring such
food in the sacred place, just as if they were real sharks.
Sharks are very commonly believed to be the abode of
ghosts in Florida and Ysabel, and in Savo, where they are
particularly numerous; hence, though all sharks are not
venerated, there is no living creature so commonly held
sacred by the Central Melanesians as a shark; and shark-ghosts
seem even to form a class of powerful supernatural
beings. Again, when a lizard was seen frequenting a house
after a death, it would be taken for the ghost returning to
its old home; and many ghosts, powerful to aid the mariner
at sea, take up their quarters in frigate-birds.<a id="footnotetag610" name="footnotetag610"></a><a href="#footnote610"><sup>610</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">The belief in ghosts underlies the Melanesian conception of
magic.</p>

<p>Again, a belief in powerful ghosts underlies to a great
extent the Melanesian conception of magic, as that conception
is expounded by Dr. Codrington. "That invisible power,"
he tells us, "which is believed by the natives to cause all
such effects as transcend their conception of the regular
course of nature, and to reside in spiritual beings, whether
in the spiritual part of living men or in the ghosts of the
dead, being imparted by them to their names and to various
things that belong to them, such as stones, snakes, and
indeed objects of all sorts, is that generally known as <i>mana</i>.
Without some understanding of this it is impossible to
understand the religious beliefs and practices of the
Melanesians; and this again is the active force in all they
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page381" id="page381"></a>[pg 381]</span>
do and believe to be done in magic, white or black. By
means of this men are able to control or direct the forces of
nature, to make rain or sunshine, wind or calm, to cause
sickness or remove it, to know what is far off in time and
space, to bring good luck and prosperity, or to blast and
curse. No man, however, has this power of his own; all
that he does is done by the aid of personal beings, ghosts
or spirits."<a id="footnotetag611" name="footnotetag611"></a><a href="#footnote611"><sup>611</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Illness generally thought to be caused by ghosts.</p>

<p>Thus, to begin with the medical profession, which is a
branch of magic long before it becomes a department of
science, every serious sickness is believed to be brought
about by ghosts or spirits, but generally it is to the ghosts of
the dead that illness is ascribed both by the Eastern and by
the Western islanders. Hence recourse is had to ghosts
for aid both in causing and in curing sickness. They are
thought to inflict disease, not only because some offence,
such as trespass, has been committed against them, or
because one who knows their ways has instigated them
thereto by sacrifice and spells, but because there is a certain
malignity in the feeling of all ghosts towards the living, who
offend them simply by being alive. All human faculties,
apart from the mere bodily functions, are supposed to be
enhanced by death; hence the ghost of a powerful and ill-natured
man is only too ready to take advantage of his
increased powers for mischief.<a id="footnotetag612" name="footnotetag612"></a><a href="#footnote612"><sup>612</sup></a> Thus in the island of Florida
illness is regularly laid at the door of a ghost; the only
question that can arise is which particular ghost is doing
the mischief. Sometimes the patient imagines that he has
offended his dead father, uncle, or brother, who accordingly
takes his revenge by stretching him on a bed of sickness.
In that case no special intercessor is required; the patient
himself or one of his kinsfolk will sacrifice and beg the
ghost to take the sickness away; it is purely a family affair.
Sometimes the sick man thinks that it is his own private or
tame ghost who is afflicting him; so he will leave the house
in order to escape his tormentor. But if the cause of sickness
remains obscure, a professional doctor or medicine-man
will be consulted. He always knows, or at least can
ascertain, the ghost who is causing all the trouble, and he
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page382" id="page382"></a>[pg 382]</span>
takes his measures accordingly. Thus he will bind on the
sick man the kind of leaves that the ghost loves; he will
chew ginger and blow it into the patient's ears and on that
part of the skull which is soft in infants; he will call on the
name of the ghost and entreat him to remove the sickness.
Should all these remedies prove vain, the doctor is by no
means at the end of his resources. He may shrewdly
suspect that somebody, who has an ill-will at the patient,
has set his private ghost to maul the sick man and do him
a grievous bodily injury. If his suspicions are confirmed
and he discovers the malicious man who is egging on the
mischievous ghost, he will bribe him to call off his ghost;
and if the man refuses, the doctor will hire another ghost to
assault and batter the original assailant. At Wango in San
Cristoval regular battles used to be fought by the invisible
champions above the sickbed of the sufferer, whose life or
death depended on the issue of the combat. Their weapons
were spears, and sometimes more than one ghost would be
engaged on either side.<a id="footnotetag613" name="footnotetag613"></a><a href="#footnote613"><sup>613</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Diagnosis of ghosts who have caused illness.</p>

<p>In Ysabel the doctor employs an ingenious apparatus
for discovering the cause of sickness and ascertaining its
cure. He suspends a stone at one end of a string while he
holds the other end in his hand. Then he recites the names
of all the people who died lately, and when the stone swings
at anybody's name, he knows that the ghost of that man
has caused the illness. It remains to find out what the
ghost will take to relax his clutch on the sick man, it may
be a mash of yams, a fish, a pig, or perhaps a human
substitute. The question is put and answered as before;
and whatever the oracle declares to be requisite is offered on
the dead man's grave. Thus the ghost is appeased and the
sufferer is made whole.<a id="footnotetag614" name="footnotetag614"></a><a href="#footnote614"><sup>614</sup></a> In these islands a common cause
of illness is believed to be an unwarrantable intrusion on
premises occupied by a ghost, who punishes the trespasser by
afflicting him with bodily pains and ailments, or it may be
by carrying off his soul. At Maewo in Aurora, one of the
New Hebrides, when there is reason to think that a sickness
is due to ghostly agency, the friends of the sick man send
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page383" id="page383"></a>[pg 383]</span>
for a professional dreamer, whose business it is to ascertain
what particular ghost has been offended and to make it up
with him. So the dreamer falls asleep and in his sleep he
dreams a dream. He seems to himself to be in the place
where the patient was working before his illness; and there
he spies a queer little old man, who is really no other than
the ghost. The dreamer falls into conversation with him,
learns his name, and winning his confidence extracts from
him a true account of the whole affair. The fact is that in
working at his garden the man encroached, whether wittingly
or not is no matter, on land which the ghost regards as his
private preserve; and to punish the intrusion the ghost
carried off the intruder's soul and impounded it in a magic
fence in his garden, where it still languishes in durance vile.
The dreamer at once tenders a frank and manly apology on
behalf of his client; he assures the ghost that the trespass
was purely inadvertent, that no personal disrespect whatever
was intended, and he concludes by requesting the ghost to
overlook the offence for this time and to release the imprisoned
soul. This appeal to the better feelings of the
ghost has its effect; he pulls up the fence and lets the soul
out of the pound; it flies back to the sick man, who thereupon
recovers. Sometimes an orphan child is made sick by
its dead mother, whose ghost draws away the soul of the
infant to keep her company in the spirit land. In such a
case, again, a dreamer is employed to bring back the lost
soul from the far country; and if he can persuade the
mother's ghost to relinquish the tiny soul of her baby, the
child will be made whole.<a id="footnotetag615" name="footnotetag615"></a><a href="#footnote615"><sup>615</sup></a> Once more certain long stones
in the Banks' Islands are inhabited by ghosts so active and
robust that if a man's shadow so much as falls on one of
them, the ghost in the stone will clutch the shadow and pull
the soul clean out of the man, who dies accordingly. Such
stones, dangerous as they unquestionably are to the chance
passer-by, nevertheless for that very reason possess a valuable
property which can be turned to excellent account. A man,
for example, will put one of these stones in his house to
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page384" id="page384"></a>[pg 384]</span>
guard it like a watch-dog in his absence; and if he sends a
friend to fetch something out of it which he has forgotten,
the messenger, on approaching the house, will take good
care to call out the owner's name, lest the ghost in the
stone, mistaking him for a thief and a robber, should pounce
out on him and do him a mischief before he had time to
explain.<a id="footnotetag616" name="footnotetag616"></a><a href="#footnote616"><sup>616</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Contrast between Melanesian and European medicine.</p>

<p>Thus it appears that for a medical practitioner in
Melanesia the first requisite is an intimate acquaintance, not
with the anatomy of the human frame and the properties of
drugs, but with ghosts, their personal peculiarities, habits,
and haunts. Only by means of the influence which such
a knowledge enables him to exert on these powerful and
dangerous beings can the good physician mitigate and
assuage the sufferings of poor humanity. His professional
skill, while it certainly aims at the alleviation of physical
evils, attains its object chiefly, if not exclusively, by a direct
appeal to those higher, though invisible, powers which encompass
the life of man, or at all events of the Melanesian.
The firm faith in the spiritual and the unseen which these
sable doctors display in their treatment of the sick presents
a striking contrast to the procedure of their European
colleagues, who trust exclusively to the use of mere physical
remedies, such as drugs and lancets, now carving the body
of the sufferer with knives, and now inserting substances,
about which they know little, into places about which they
know nothing. Has not science falsely so called still much
to learn from savagery?</p>

<p class="side">The weather believed to be regulated by ghosts and spirits.
Weather-doctors.</p>

<p>But it is not the departments of medicine and surgery
alone, important as these are to human welfare, which
in Melanesia are directed and controlled by spiritual
forces. The weather in those regions is also regulated
by ghosts and spirits. It is they who cause the wind to
blow or to be still, the sun to shine forth or to be overcast
with clouds, the rain to descend or the earth to be parched
with drought; hence fertility and abundance or dearth and
famine prevail alternately at the will of these spiritual
directors. From this it follows that men who stand on a
footing of intimacy with ghosts and spirits can by judicious
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page385" id="page385"></a>[pg 385]</span>
management induce them to adapt the weather to the varying
needs of mankind. But it is to be observed that the
supernatural beings, who are the real sources of atmospheric
phenomena, have delegated or deputed a portion of their
powers not merely to certain material objects, such as stones
or leaves, but to certain set forms of words, which men call
incantations or spells; and accordingly all such objects and
formulas do, by virtue of this delegation, possess in themselves
a real and we may almost say natural influence over
the weather, which is often manifested in a striking congruity
or harmony between the things themselves and the effects
which they are calculated to produce. This adaptation of
means to end in nature may perhaps be regarded as a
beautiful proof of the existence of spirits and ghosts working
their purposes unseen behind the gaily coloured screen or
curtain of the physical universe. At all events men who are
acquainted with the ghostly properties of material objects and
words can turn them to account for the benefit of their friends
and the confusion of their foes, and they do so very readily if
only it is made worth their while. Hence it comes about that
in these islands there are everywhere weather-doctors or
weather-mongers, who through their familiarity with ghosts
and spirits and their acquaintance with the ghostly or
spiritual properties of things, are able to control the weather
and to supply their customers with wind or calm, rain or
sunshine, famine or abundance, at a reasonable rate and a
moderate figure.<a id="footnotetag617" name="footnotetag617"></a><a href="#footnote617"><sup>617</sup></a> The advantages of such a system over our
own blundering method of managing the weather, or rather
of leaving it to its own devices, are too obvious to be insisted
on. To take a few examples. In the island of Florida,
when a calm is wanted, the weather-doctor takes a bunch of
leaves, of the sort which the ghost loves, and hides the bunch
in the hollow of a tree where there is water, at the same
time invoking the ghost with the proper charm. This
naturally produces rain and with the rain a calm. In the
seafaring life of the Solomon Islanders the maker of calms is
a really valuable citizen.<a id="footnotetag618" name="footnotetag618"></a><a href="#footnote618"><sup>618</sup></a> The Santa Cruz people are also
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page386" id="page386"></a>[pg 386]</span>
great voyagers, and their wizards control the weather on their
expeditions, taking with them the stock or log which represents
their private or tame ghost and setting it up on a stage in
the cabin. The presence of the familiar ghost being thus
secured, the weather-doctor will undertake to provide wind
or calm according to circumstances.<a id="footnotetag619" name="footnotetag619"></a><a href="#footnote619"><sup>619</sup></a> We have already seen
how in these islands the wizard makes rain by pouring water
on the wooden posts which represent the rain-ghosts.<a id="footnotetag620" name="footnotetag620"></a><a href="#footnote620"><sup>620</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Black magic working through personal refuse or rubbish of the
victim.</p>

<p>Such exercises of ghostly power for the healing of the sick
and the improvement of the weather are, when well directed
and efficacious, wholly beneficial. But ghostly power is a two-edged
weapon which can work evil as well as good to mankind.
In fact it can serve the purpose of witchcraft. The
commonest application of this pernicious art is one which is
very familiar to witches and sorcerers in many parts of the
world. The first thing the wizard does is to obtain a fragment
of food, a bit of hair, a nail-clipping, or indeed anything
that has been closely connected with the person of his
intended victim. This is the medium through which the
power of the ghost or spirit is brought to bear; it is, so to
say, the point of support on which the magician rests the
whole weight of his infernal engine. In order to give effect
to the charm it is very desirable, if not absolutely necessary,
to possess some personal relic, such as a bone, of the dead
man whose ghost is to set the machinery in motion. At all
events the essential thing is to bring together the man who
is to be injured and the ghost or spirit who is to injure him;
and this can be done most readily by placing the personal
relics or refuse of the two men, the living and the dead, in
contact with each other; for thus the magic circuit, if we
may say so, is complete, and the fatal current flows from the
dead to the living. That is why it is most dangerous to
leave any personal refuse or rubbish lying about; you never
can tell but that some sorcerer may get hold of it and work
your ruin by means of it. Hence the people are naturally most
careful to hide or destroy all such refuse in order to prevent it
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page387" id="page387"></a>[pg 387]</span>
from falling into the hands of witches and wizards; and this
sage precaution has led to habits of cleanliness which the
superficial European is apt to mistake for what he calls enlightened
sanitation, but which a deeper knowledge of native
thought would reveal to him in their true character as far-seeing
measures designed to defeat the nefarious art of the
sorcerer.<a id="footnotetag621" name="footnotetag621"></a><a href="#footnote621"><sup>621</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Black magic working without any personal relic of the victim.
The ghost-shooter.</p>

<p>Unfortunately, however, an adept in the black art can
work his fell purpose even without any personal relic of his
victim. In the Banks' Islands, for example, he need only
procure a bit of human bone or a fragment of some lethal
weapon, it may be a splinter of a club or a chip of an arrow,
which has killed somebody. This he wraps up in the proper
leaves, recites over it the appropriate charm, and plants it
secretly in the path along which his intended victim is expected
to pass. The ghost of the man who owned the bone
in his life or perished by the club or the arrow, is now lurking
like a lion in the path; and if the poor fellow strolls along it
thinking no evil, the ghost will spring at him and strike him
with disease. The charm is perfectly efficient if the man
does come along the path, but clearly it misses fire if he does
not. To remedy this defect in the apparatus a sorcerer sometimes
has recourse to a portable instrument, a sort of pocket
pistol, which in the Banks' Islands is known as a ghost-shooter.
It is a bamboo tube, loaded not with powder and
shot, but with a dead man's bone and other magical ingredients,
over which the necessary spell has been crooned.
Armed with this deadly weapon the sorcerer has only to step
up to his unsuspecting enemy, whip out the pocket pistol,
uncork the muzzle by removing his thumb from the orifice,
and present it at the victim; the fatal discharge follows in
an instant and the man drops to the ground. The ghost in
the pistol has done his work. Sometimes, however, an
accident happens. The marksman misses his victim and
hits somebody else. This occurred, for example, not very
many years ago in the island of Mota. A man named
Isvitag was waiting with his ghost-shooter to pop at his
enemy, but in his nervous excitement he let fly too soon,
just as a woman with a child on her hip stepped across the
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page388" id="page388"></a>[pg 388]</span>
path. The shot, or rather the ghost, hit the child point-blank,
and it was his sister's child, his own next of kin!
You may imagine the distress of the affectionate uncle at
this deplorable miscarriage. To prevent inflammation of the
wound he, with great presence of mind, plunged his pocket
pistol in water, and this timely remedy proved so efficacious
that the child took no hurt.<a id="footnotetag622" name="footnotetag622"></a><a href="#footnote622"><sup>622</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Prophecy inspired by ghosts.</p>

<p>Another department of Melanesian life in which ghosts
figure very prominently is prophecy. The knowledge of
future events is believed to be conveyed to the people by
a ghost or spirit speaking with the voice of a man, who
is himself unconscious while he speaks. The predictions
which emanate from the prophet under these circumstances
are in the strictest sense inspired. His human personality
is for the time being in abeyance, and he is merely the
mouthpiece of the powerful spirit which has temporarily
taken possession of his body and speaks with his voice.
The possession is indeed painfully manifest. His eyes
glare, foam bursts from his mouth, his limbs writhe, his
whole body is convulsed. These are the workings of the
mighty spirit shaking and threatening to rend the frail
tabernacle of flesh. This form of inspiration is not clearly
distinguishable from what we call madness; indeed the
natives do not attempt to distinguish between the two
things; they regard the madman and the prophet as
both alike inspired by a ghost or spirit, and a man will
sometimes pretend to be mad in order that he may get
the reputation of being a prophet. At Saa a man will
speak with the voice of a powerful man deceased, while
he twists and writhes under the influence of the ghost;
he calls himself by the name of the deceased who speaks
through him, and he is so addressed by others; he will
eat fire, lift enormous weights, and foretells things to
come. When the inspiration, or insanity, is particularly
violent, and the Banks' Islanders think they have had
quite enough of it, the friends of the prophet or of the
madman will sometimes catch him and hold him struggling
and roaring in the smoke of strong-smelling leaves, while
they call out the names of the dead men whose ghosts
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page389" id="page389"></a>[pg 389]</span>
are most likely to be abroad at the time, for as soon as
the right name is mentioned the ghost departs from the
man, who then returns to his sober senses. But this
method of smoking out a ghost is not always successful.<a id="footnotetag623" name="footnotetag623"></a><a href="#footnote623"><sup>623</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Divination by means of ghosts.</p>

<p>There are many methods by which ghosts and spirits
are believed to make known to men who employ them
the secret things which the unassisted human intelligence
could not discover; and some of them hardly perhaps
need the intervention of a professional wizard. These
methods of divination differ very little in the various
islands. In the Solomon Islands, for instance, when an
expedition has started in a fleet of canoes, there is sometimes
a hesitation whether they shall proceed, or a doubt
as to what direction they should take. Thereupon a
diviner may declare that he has felt a ghost step on
board; for did not the canoe tip over to the one side?
Accordingly he asks the invisible passenger, "Shall we go
on? Shall we go to such and such a place?" If the
canoe rocks, the answer is yes; if it lies on an even
keel, the answer is no. Again, when a man is sick and
his friends wish to know what ghost is vexing or, as they
say, eating him, a diviner or wizard is sent for. He comes
bringing an assistant, and the two sit down, the wizard
in front and the assistant at his back, and they hold a
stick or bamboo by the two ends. The wizard then begins
to slap the end of the bamboo he holds, calling out one
after another the names of men not very long deceased, and
when he names the one who is afflicting the sick man the
stick of itself becomes violently agitated.<a id="footnotetag624" name="footnotetag624"></a><a href="#footnote624"><sup>624</sup></a> We are not
informed, but we may probably assume, that it is the ghost
and not the man who really agitates the stick. A somewhat
different mode of divination was occasionally employed
at Motlav in the Banks' Islands in order to discover a thief
or other criminal. After a burial they would take a bag,
put some Tahitian chestnut and scraped banana into it, and
tie it to the end of a hollow bamboo tube about ten feet long
in such a way that the end of the tube was inserted in the
mouth of the bag. Then the bag was laid on the dead
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page390" id="page390"></a>[pg 390]</span>
man's grave, and the diviners grasped the other end of the
bamboo. The names of the recently dead were then called
over, and while this was being done the men felt the bamboo
grow heavy in their hands, for a ghost was scrambling up
from the bag into the hollow of the bamboo. Having thus
secured him they carried the imprisoned ghost in the bamboo
into the village, where the roll of the recent dead was again
called over in order to learn whose ghost had been caught
in the trap. When wrong names were mentioned, the free
end of the bamboo moved from side to side, but at the
mention of the right name it revolved briskly. Having
thus ascertained whom they had to deal with, they questioned
the entrapped ghost, "Who stole so and so? Who
was guilty in such a case?" Thereupon the bamboo, moved
no doubt by the ghost inside, pointed at the culprit, if he
was present, or made signs as before when the names of the
suspected evildoers were mentioned.<a id="footnotetag625" name="footnotetag625"></a><a href="#footnote625"><sup>625</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Taboo based on a fear of ghosts.</p>

<p>Of the many departments of Central Melanesian life
which are permeated by a belief in ghostly power the
last which I shall mention is the institution of taboo. In
Melanesia, indeed, the institution is not so conspicuous as
it used to be in Polynesia; yet even there it has been
a powerful instrument in the consolidation of the rights
of private property, and as such it deserves the attention
of historians who seek to trace the evolution of law and
morality. As understood in the Banks' Islands and the
New Hebrides the word taboo (<i>tambu</i> or <i>tapu</i>) signifies a
sacred and unapproachable character which is imposed on
certain things by the arbitrary will of a chief or other
powerful man. Somebody whose authority with the people
gives him confidence to make the announcement will declare
that such and such an object may not be touched, that such
and such a place may not be approached, and that such and
such an action may not be performed under a certain
penalty, which in the last resort will be inflicted by ghostly
or spiritual agency. The object, place, or action in question
becomes accordingly taboo or sacred. Hence in these
islands taboo may be defined as a prohibition with a curse
expressed or implied. The sanction or power at the back
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page391" id="page391"></a>[pg 391]</span>
of the taboo is not that of the man who imposes it; rather
it is that of the ghost or spirit in whose name or in reliance
upon whom the taboo is imposed. Thus in Florida a chief
will forbid something to be done or touched under a penalty;
he may proclaim, for example, that any one who violates
his prohibition must pay him a hundred strings of shell
money. To a European such a proclamation seems a proof
of the chief's power; but to the native the chiefs power, in
this and in everything, rests on the persuasion that the chief
has his mighty ghost at his back. The sense of this in the
particular case is indeed remote, the fear of the chiefs anger
is present and effective, but the ultimate sanction is the
power of the ghost. If a common man were to take upon
himself to taboo anything he might do so; people would
imagine that he would not dare to make such an announcement
unless he knew he could enforce it; so they would
watch, and if anybody violated the taboo and fell sick afterwards,
they would conclude that the taboo was supported by
a powerful ghost who punished infractions of it. Hence the
reputation and authority of the man who imposed the taboo
would rise accordingly; for it would be seen that he had a
powerful ghost at his back. Every ghost has a particular
kind of leaf for his badge; and in imposing his taboo a man
will set the leaf of his private ghost as a mark to warn trespassers
of the spiritual power with which they have to
reckon; when people see a leaf stuck, it may be, on a tree, a
house, or a canoe, they do not always know whose it is; but
they do know that if they disregard the mark they have to
deal with a ghost and not with a man,<a id="footnotetag626" name="footnotetag626"></a><a href="#footnote626"><sup>626</sup></a> and the knowledge is
a more effectual check on thieving and other crimes than the
dread of mere human justice. Many a rascal fears a ghost
who does not fear the face of man.</p>

<p class="side">The life of the Central Melanesians deeply influenced by
their belief in the survival of the human soul after death.</p>

<p>What I have said may suffice to impress you with a
sense of the deep practical influence which a belief in the
survival of the human soul after death exercises on the life
and conduct of the Central Melanesian savage. To him the
belief is no mere abstract theological dogma or speculative
tenet, the occasional theme of edifying homilies and pious
meditation; it is an inbred, unquestioning, omnipresent
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page392" id="page392"></a>[pg 392]</span>
conviction which affects his thoughts and actions daily and
at every turn; it guides his fortunes as an individual and
controls his behaviour as a member of a community, by inculcating
a respect for the rights of others and enforcing a
submission to the public authorities. With him the fear of
ghosts and spirits is a bulwark of morality and a bond
of society; for he firmly believes in their unseen presence
everywhere and in the punishments which they can inflict on
wrongdoers. His whole theory of causation differs fundamentally
from ours and necessarily begets a fundamental difference
of practice. Where we see natural forces and material
substances, the Melanesian sees ghosts and spirits. A great
gulf divides his conception of the world from ours; and
it may be doubted whether education will ever enable him
to pass the gulf and to think and act like us. The products
of an evolution which has extended over many ages cannot
be forced like mushrooms in a summer day; it is vain to
pluck the fruit of the tree of knowledge before it is ripe.</p>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote590" name="footnote590"></a><b>Footnote 590:</b><a href="#footnotetag590"> (return) </a><p>R. H. Codrington, <i>The Melanesians</i>, pp. 130-132.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote591" name="footnote591"></a><b>Footnote 591:</b><a href="#footnotetag591"> (return) </a><p> R. H. Codrington, <i>The Melanesians</i>, pp. 132
<i>sq.</i>; C. M. Woodford, <i>A Naturalist among the Head-hunters</i>
(London, 1890), pp. 26-28.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote592" name="footnote592"></a><b>Footnote 592:</b><a href="#footnotetag592"> (return) </a><p> G. Turner, LL.D., <i>Samoa a Hundred Years Ago and long
before</i> (London, 1884), pp. 318 <i>sq.</i> Yams are the principal
fruits cultivated by the Tannese, who bestow a great deal of labour on
the plantation and keep them in fine order. See G. Turner, <i>op.
cit.</i> pp. 317 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote593" name="footnote593"></a><b>Footnote 593:</b><a href="#footnotetag593"> (return) </a><p> R. H. Codrington, <i>The Melanesians</i>, pp. 133
<i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote594" name="footnote594"></a><b>Footnote 594:</b><a href="#footnotetag594"> (return) </a><p>R. H. Codrington, <i>The Melanesians</i>, p. 134.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote595" name="footnote595"></a><b>Footnote 595:</b><a href="#footnotetag595"> (return) </a><p>R. H. Codrington, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 135 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote596" name="footnote596"></a><b>Footnote 596:</b><a href="#footnotetag596"> (return) </a><p> R. H. Codrington, <i>The Melanesians</i>, pp. 137
<i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote597" name="footnote597"></a><b>Footnote 597:</b><a href="#footnotetag597"> (return) </a><p>R. H. Codrington, <i>The Melanesians</i>, p. 138.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote598" name="footnote598"></a><b>Footnote 598:</b><a href="#footnotetag598"> (return) </a><p>R. H. Codrington, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 138 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote599" name="footnote599"></a><b>Footnote 599:</b><a href="#footnotetag599"> (return) </a><p>R. H. Codrington, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 139.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote600" name="footnote600"></a><b>Footnote 600:</b><a href="#footnotetag600"> (return) </a><p> "Native Stories of Santa Cruz and Reef Islands,"
translated by the Rev. W. O'Ferrall, <i>Journal of the Anthropological
Institute</i>, xxxiv. (1904) p. 223.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote601" name="footnote601"></a><b>Footnote 601:</b><a href="#footnotetag601"> (return) </a><p> "Native Stories from Santa Cruz and Reef Islands," <i>op.
cit.</i> p. 224.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote602" name="footnote602"></a><b>Footnote 602:</b><a href="#footnotetag602"> (return) </a><p> "Native Stories from Santa Cruz and Reef Islands," <i>op.
cit.</i> p. 225.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote603" name="footnote603"></a><b>Footnote 603:</b><a href="#footnotetag603"> (return) </a><p> Compare <i>The Magic Art and the Evolution of Kings</i>,
i. 269 <i>sqq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote604" name="footnote604"></a><b>Footnote 604:</b><a href="#footnotetag604"> (return) </a><p> G. Turner, <i>Samoa a Hundred Years Ago and long
before</i> (London, 1884), p. 326.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote605" name="footnote605"></a><b>Footnote 605:</b><a href="#footnotetag605"> (return) </a><p>G. Turner, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 334.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote606" name="footnote606"></a><b>Footnote 606:</b><a href="#footnotetag606"> (return) </a><p>R. H. Codrington, <i>The Melanesians</i>, pp. 145-148.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote607" name="footnote607"></a><b>Footnote 607:</b><a href="#footnotetag607"> (return) </a><p> R. H. Codrington, <i>The Melanesians</i>, pp. 175
<i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote608" name="footnote608"></a><b>Footnote 608:</b><a href="#footnotetag608"> (return) </a><p> R. H. Codrington, <i>The Melanesians</i>,
pp. 176 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote609" name="footnote609"></a><b>Footnote 609:</b><a href="#footnotetag609"> (return) </a><p>R. H. Codrington, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 177 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote610" name="footnote610"></a><b>Footnote 610:</b><a href="#footnotetag610"> (return) </a><p>R. H. Codrington, <i>The Melanesians</i>, pp. 178-180.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote611" name="footnote611"></a><b>Footnote 611:</b><a href="#footnotetag611"> (return) </a><p>R. H. Codrington, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 191.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote612" name="footnote612"></a><b>Footnote 612:</b><a href="#footnotetag612"> (return) </a><p>R. H. Codrington, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 194.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote613" name="footnote613"></a><b>Footnote 613:</b><a href="#footnotetag613"> (return) </a><p>R. H. Codrington, <i>The Melanesians</i>, pp. 194-196.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote614" name="footnote614"></a><b>Footnote 614:</b><a href="#footnotetag614"> (return) </a><p>R. H. Codrington, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 196.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote615" name="footnote615"></a><b>Footnote 615:</b><a href="#footnotetag615"> (return) </a><p> R. H. Codrington, <i>The Melanesians</i>, pp. 208
<i>sq.</i> As to sickness supposed to be caused by trespass on the
premises of a ghost see further <i>id.</i>, pp. 194, 195, 218.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote616" name="footnote616"></a><b>Footnote 616:</b><a href="#footnotetag616"> (return) </a><p>R. H. Codrington, <i>The Melanesians</i>, p. 184.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote617" name="footnote617"></a><b>Footnote 617:</b><a href="#footnotetag617"> (return) </a><p>R. H. Codrington, <i>The Melanesians</i>, p. 200.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote618" name="footnote618"></a><b>Footnote 618:</b><a href="#footnotetag618"> (return) </a><p> R. H. Codrington, <i>The Melanesians</i>, pp. 200, 201.
The spirit whom the Florida wizard appeals to for good or bad weather is
called a <i>vigona</i>; and the natives believe it to be always the
ghost of a dead man. But it seems very doubtful whether this opinion is
strictly correct. See R. H. Codrington, <i>op cit.</i> pp. 124, 134.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote619" name="footnote619"></a><b>Footnote 619:</b><a href="#footnotetag619"> (return) </a><p> R. H. Codrington, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 201. The Santa Cruz
name for such a ghost is <i>duka</i> (<i>ibid.</i> p. 139).</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote620" name="footnote620"></a><b>Footnote 620:</b><a href="#footnotetag620"> (return) </a><p>Above, p. 375.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote621" name="footnote621"></a><b>Footnote 621:</b><a href="#footnotetag621"> (return) </a><p>R. H. Codrington, <i>The Melanesians</i>, pp. 202-204.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote622" name="footnote622"></a><b>Footnote 622:</b><a href="#footnotetag622"> (return) </a><p> R. H. Codrington, <i>The Melanesians</i>, pp. 205
<i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote623" name="footnote623"></a><b>Footnote 623:</b><a href="#footnotetag623"> (return) </a><p> R. H. Codrington, <i>The Melanesians</i>, pp. 209
<i>sq.</i>, 218-220.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote624" name="footnote624"></a><b>Footnote 624:</b><a href="#footnotetag624"> (return) </a><p>R. H. Codrington, <i>The Melanesians</i>, pp. 210.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote625" name="footnote625"></a><b>Footnote 625:</b><a href="#footnotetag625"> (return) </a><p> R. H. Codrington, <i>The Melanesians</i>, pp. 211
<i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote626" name="footnote626"></a><b>Footnote 626:</b><a href="#footnotetag626"> (return) </a><p> R. H. Codrington, <i>The Melanesians</i>, pp. 215
<i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<span class="pagenum"><a name="page393" id="page393"></a>[pg 393]</span>




<h2><a name="lecture-xviii" id="lecture-xviii"></a>LECTURE XVIII</h2>

<h3>THE BELIEF IN IMMORTALITY AMONG THE NATIVES
OF NORTHERN AND EASTERN MELANESIA</h3>


<p class="side">Northern Melanesia. Material culture of the North
Melanesians.</p>

<p>In the last lecture I concluded my account of the belief in
immortality and the worship of the dead among the natives
of Central Melanesia.  To-day we pass to what may be
called Northern Melanesia, by which is to be understood the
great archipelago lying to the north-east of New Guinea. It
comprises the two large islands of New Britain and New
Ireland, now called New Pomerania and New Mecklenburg,
with the much smaller Duke of York Island lying between
them, and the chain of New Hanover and the Admiralty
Islands stretching away westward from the north-western
extremity of New Ireland. The whole of the archipelago,
together with the adjoining island of Bougainville in the
Solomon Islands, is now under German rule. The people
belong to the same stock and speak the same language as
the natives of Central and Southern Melanesia, and their
level of culture is approximately the same. They live
in settled villages and subsist chiefly by the cultivation of
the ground, raising crops of taro, yams, bananas, sugar-cane,
and so forth. Most of the agricultural labour is performed
by the women, who plant, weed the ground, and carry the
produce to the villages. The ground is, or rather used to
be, dug by sharp-pointed sticks. The men hunt cassowaries,
wallabies, and wild pigs, and they catch fish by both nets
and traps. Women and children take part in the fishing
and many of them become very expert in spearing fish.
Among the few domestic animals which they keep are pigs,
dogs, and fowls. The villages are generally situated in
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page394" id="page394"></a>[pg 394]</span>
the midst of a dense forest; but on the coast the natives
build their houses not far from the beach as a precaution
against the attacks of the forest tribes, of whom they
stand greatly in fear. A New Britain village generally
consists of a number of small communities or families,
each of which dwells in a separate enclosure. The houses
are very small and badly built, oblong in shape and
very low. Between the separate hamlets which together
compose a village lie stretches of virgin forest, through which
run irregular and often muddy foot-tracks, scooped out here
and there into mud-holes where the pigs love to wallow
during the heat of the tropical day. As the people of any
one district used generally to be at war with their neighbours,
it was necessary that they should live together for the sake
of mutual protection.<a id="footnotetag627" name="footnotetag627"></a><a href="#footnote627"><sup>627</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Commercial habits of the North Melanesians. Their
backwardness in other respects.</p>

<p>Nevertheless, in spite of their limited intercourse with
surrounding villages, the natives of the New Britain or the
Bismarck Archipelago were essentially a trading people.
They made extensive use of shell money and fully recognised
the value of any imported articles as mediums of
exchange or currency. Markets were held on certain days
at fixed places, where the forest people brought their yams,
taro, bananas and so forth and exchanged them for fish,
tobacco, and other articles with the natives of the coast.
They also went on long trading expeditions to procure
canoes, cuscus teeth, pigs, slaves, and so forth, which on
their return they generally sold at a considerable profit. The
shell which they used as money is the <i>Nassa immersa</i> or
<i>Nassa calosa</i>, found on the north coast of New Britain.
The shells were perforated and threaded on strips of cane,
which were then joined together in coils of fifty to two
hundred fathoms.<a id="footnotetag628" name="footnotetag628"></a><a href="#footnote628"><sup>628</sup></a> The rights of private property were fully
recognised. All lands belonged to certain families, and
husband and wife had each the exclusive right to his or
her goods and chattels. But while in certain directions
the people had made some progress, in others they remained
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page395" id="page395"></a>[pg 395]</span>
very backward. Pottery and the metals were unknown;
no metal or specimen of metal-work has been found in
the archipelago; on the other hand the natives made much
use of stone implements, especially adzes and clubs. In war
they never used bows and arrows.<a id="footnotetag629" name="footnotetag629"></a><a href="#footnote629"><sup>629</sup></a> They had no system of
government, unless that name may be given to the power
wielded by the secret societies and by chiefs, who exercised
a certain degree of influence principally by reason of the
reputation which they enjoyed as sorcerers and magicians.
They were not elected nor did they necessarily inherit their
office; they simply claimed to possess magical powers, and
if they succeeded in convincing the people of the justice of
their claim, their authority was recognised. Wealth also
contributed to establish their position in the esteem of the
public.<a id="footnotetag630" name="footnotetag630"></a><a href="#footnote630"><sup>630</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">The Rev. George Brown on the Melanesians.</p>

<p>With regard to the religious ideas and customs of the
natives we are not fully informed, but so far as these have
been described they appear to agree closely with those of
their kinsfolk in Central Melanesia.  The first European to
settle in the archipelago was the veteran missionary, the
Rev. George Brown, D.D., who resided in the islands from
1875 to 1880 and has revisited them on several occasions
since; he reduced the language to writing for the first time,<a id="footnotetag631" name="footnotetag631"></a><a href="#footnote631"><sup>631</sup></a>
and is one of our best authorities on the people. In what
follows I shall make use of his valuable testimony along
with that of more recent observers.</p>

<p class="side">North Melanesian theory of the soul. Fear of ghosts,
especially the ghosts of persons who have been killed and eaten.</p>

<p>The natives of the archipelago believe that every person
is animated by a soul, which survives his death and may
afterwards influence the survivors for good or evil. Their
word for soul is <i>nio</i> or <i>niono</i>, meaning a shadow. The root
is <i>nio</i>, which by the addition of personal suffixes becomes
<i>niong</i> "my soul or shadow," <i>niom</i> "your soul or shadow,"
<i>niono</i> "his soul or shadow." They think that the soul is like
the man himself, and that it always stays inside of his body,
except when it goes out on a ramble during sleep or a faint.
A man who is very sleepy may say, "My soul wants to go
away." They believe, however, that it departs for ever at
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page396" id="page396"></a>[pg 396]</span>
death; hence when a man is sick, his friends will offer
prayers to prevent its departure. There is only one kind of
soul, but it can appear in many shapes and enter into animals,
such as rats, lizards, birds, and so on. It can hear, see, and
speak, and present itself in the form of a wraith or apparition
to people at the moment of or soon after death. On being
asked why he thought that the soul does not perish with the
body, a native said, "Because it is different; it is not of the
same nature at all." They believe that the souls of the dead
occasionally visit the living and are seen by them, and that
they haunt houses and burial-places. They are very much
afraid of the ghosts and do all they can to drive or frighten
them away. Above all, being cannibals, they stand in great
fear of the ghosts of the people whom they have killed and
eaten. The man who is cutting up a human body takes
care to tie a bandage over his mouth and nose during the
operation of carving in order to prevent the enraged soul of
the victim from entering into his body by these apertures;
and for a similar reason the doors of the houses are shut
while the cannibal feast is going on inside. And to keep the
victim's ghost quiet while his body is being devoured, a cut
from a joint is very considerately placed on a tree outside of
the house, so that he may eat of his own flesh and be satisfied.
At the conclusion of the banquet, the people shout, brandish
spears, beat the bushes, blow horns, beat drums, and make
all kinds of noises for the purpose of chasing the ghost or
ghosts of the murdered and eaten men away from the village.
But while they send away the souls, they keep the skulls and
jawbones of the victims; as many as thirty-five jawbones
have been seen hanging in a single house in New Ireland.
As for the skulls, they are, or rather were placed on the
branch of a dead tree and so preserved on the beach or near
the house of the man who had taken them.<a id="footnotetag632" name="footnotetag632"></a><a href="#footnote632"><sup>632</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Offerings to the souls of the dead.</p>

<p>With regard to the death of their friends they deem it
very important to obtain the bodies and bury them. They
offer food to the souls of their departed kinsfolk for a long
time after death, until all the funeral feasts are over; but
they do not hold annual festivals in honour of dead
ancestors. The food offered to the dead is laid every day
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page397" id="page397"></a>[pg 397]</span>
on a small platform in a tree; but the natives draw a distinction
between offerings to the soul of a man who died a
natural death and offerings to the soul of a man who was
killed in a fight; for whereas they place the former on a
living tree, they deposit the latter on a dead tree. Moreover,
they lay money, weapons, and property, often indeed the
whole wealth of the family, near the corpse of their friend,
in order that the soul of the deceased may carry off the
souls of these valuables to the spirit land. But when the
body is carried away to be buried, most of the property is
removed by its owners for their own use. However, the
relations will sometimes detach a few shells from the coils of
shell money and a few beads from a necklace and drop them
in a fire for the behoof of the ghost. But when the deceased
was a chief or other person of importance, some of his
property would be buried with him. And before burial his
body would be propped up on a special chair in front of his
house, adorned with necklaces, wreaths of flowers and feathers,
and gaudy with war-paint. In one hand would be placed a
large cooked yam, and in the other a spear, while a club
would be put on his shoulder. The yam was to stay the
pangs of hunger on his long journey, and the weapons were
to enable him to fight the foes who might resist his entrance
into the spirit land. In the Duke of York Island the corpse
was usually disposed of by being sunk in a deep part of the
lagoon; but sometimes it was buried in the house and a fire
kept burning on the spot.<a id="footnotetag633" name="footnotetag633"></a><a href="#footnote633"><sup>633</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Burial customs in New Ireland and New Britain. Preservation
of the skull.</p>

<p>In New Ireland the dead were rolled up in winding-sheets
made of pandanus leaves, then weighted with stones
and buried at sea. However, at some places they were
deposited in deep underground watercourses or caverns.
Towards the northern end of New Ireland corpses were
burned on large piles of firewood in an open space of the
village. A number of images curiously carved out of wood
or chalk were set round the blazing pyre, but the meaning of
these strange figures is uncertain. Men and women uttered
the most piteous wailings, threw themselves on the top of the
corpse, and pulled at the arms and legs. This they did not
merely to express their grief, but because they thought that
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page398" id="page398"></a>[pg 398]</span>
if they saw and handled the dead body while it was burning,
the ghost could not or would not haunt them afterwards.<a id="footnotetag634" name="footnotetag634"></a><a href="#footnote634"><sup>634</sup></a>
Amongst the natives of the Gazelle Peninsula in New
Britain the dead are generally buried in shallow graves in or
near their houses. Some of the shell money which belonged
to a man in life is buried with him. Women with blackened
bodies sleep on the grave for weeks.<a id="footnotetag635" name="footnotetag635"></a><a href="#footnote635"><sup>635</sup></a> When the deceased
was a great chief, his corpse, almost covered with shell money,
is placed in a canoe, which is deposited in a small house.
Thereupon the nearest female relations are led into the house,
and the door being walled up they are obliged to remain
there with the rotting body until all the flesh has mouldered
away. Food is passed in to them through a hole in the wall,
and under no pretext are they allowed to leave the hut before
the decomposition of the corpse is complete. When nothing
of the late chief remains but a skeleton, the hut is opened
and the solemn funeral takes place. The bones of the dead
are buried, but his skull is hung up in the taboo house in
order, we are told, that his ghost may remain in the neighbourhood
of the village and see how his memory is honoured.
After the burial of the headless skeleton feasting and dancing
go on, often for more than a month, and the expenses are
defrayed out of the riches left by the deceased.<a id="footnotetag636" name="footnotetag636"></a><a href="#footnote636"><sup>636</sup></a> Even in
the case of eminent persons who have been buried whole and
entire in the usual way, a special mark of respect is sometimes
paid to their memory by digging up their skulls after a year
or more, painting them red and white, decorating them with
feathers, and setting them up on a scaffold constructed for
the purpose.<a id="footnotetag637" name="footnotetag637"></a><a href="#footnote637"><sup>637</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Disposal of the dead among the Sulka of New Britain.</p>

<p>Somewhat similar is the disposal of the dead among the
Sulka, a tribe of New Britain who inhabit a mountainous and
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page399" id="page399"></a>[pg 399]</span>
well-watered country to the south of the Gazelle Peninsula.
When a Sulka dies, his plantation is laid waste, and the
young fruit-trees cut down, but the ripe fruits are first
distributed among the living. His pigs are slaughtered and
their flesh in like manner distributed, and his weapons are
broken. If the deceased was a rich man, his wife or wives
will sometimes be killed. The corpse is usually buried next
morning. A hole is dug in the house and the body deposited
in it in a sitting posture. The upper part of the corpse
projects from the grave and is covered with a tower-like
structure of basket-work, which is stuffed with banana-leaves.
Great care is taken to preserve the body from touching the
earth. Stones are laid round about the structure and a fire
kindled. Relations come and sleep for a time beside the
corpse, men and women separately. Some while afterwards
the soul of the deceased is driven away. The time for
carrying out the expulsion is settled by the people in whispers,
lest the ghost should overhear them and prepare for a stout
resistance. The evening before the ceremony takes place
many coco-nut leaves are collected. Next morning, as soon
as a certain bird (<i>Philemon coquerelli</i>) is heard to sing, the
people rise from their beds and set up a great cry. Then
they beat the walls, shake the posts, set fire to dry coco-nut
leaves, and finally rush out into the paths. At that moment,
so the people think, the soul of the dead quits the hut.
When the flesh of the corpse is quite decayed, the bones are
taken from the grave, sewed in leaves, and hung up. Soon
afterwards a funeral feast is held, at which men and women
dance. For some time after a burial taro is planted beside
the house of death and enclosed with a fence. The Sulka
think that the ghost comes and gathers the souls of the taro.
The ripe fruit is allowed to rot. Falling stars are supposed
to be the souls of the dead which have been hurled up aloft
and are now descending to bathe in the sea. The trail of
light behind them is thought to be a tail of coco-nut leaves
which other souls have fastened to them and set on fire. In
like manner the phosphorescent glow on the sea comes from
souls disporting themselves in the water. Persons who at
their death left few relations, or did evil in their life, or were
murdered outside of the village, are not buried in the house.
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page400" id="page400"></a>[pg 400]</span>
Their corpses are deposited on rocks or on scaffolds in the
forest, or are interred on the spot where they met their death.
The reason for this treatment of their corpses is not mentioned;
but we may conjecture that their ghosts are regarded with
contempt, dislike, or fear, and that the survivors seek to give
them a wide berth by keeping their bodies at a distance
from the village. The corpses of those who died suddenly
are not buried but wrapt up in leaves and laid on a scaffold
in the house, which is then shut up and deserted. This
manner of disposing of them seems also to indicate a dread
or distrust of their ghosts.<a id="footnotetag638" name="footnotetag638"></a><a href="#footnote638"><sup>638</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Disposal of the dead among the Moanus of the Admiralty
Islands. Prayers offered to the skull of a dead chief.</p>

<p>Among the Moanus of the Admiralty Islands the dead
are kept in the houses unburied until the flesh is completely
decayed and nothing remains but the bones. Old women
then wash the skeleton carefully in sea-water, after which it
is disjointed and divided. The backbone, together with the
bones of the legs and upper arms, is deposited in one basket
and put away somewhere; the skull, together with the ribs
and the bones of the lower arms, is deposited in another
basket, which is sunk for a time in the sea. When the bones
are completely cleaned and bleached in the water, they are
laid with sweet-smelling herbs in a wooden vessel and placed
in the house which the dead man inhabited during his life.
But the teeth have been previously extracted from the skull
and converted into a necklace for herself by the sister of the
deceased. After a time the ribs are distributed by the son
among the relatives. The principal widow gets two, other
near kinsfolk get one apiece, and they wear these relics under
their arm-bands. The distribution of the ribs is the occasion
of a great festival, and it is followed some time afterwards by
a still greater feast, for which extensive preparations are made
long beforehand. All who intend to be present at the
ceremony send vessels of coco-nut oil in advance; and if
the deceased was a great chief the number of the oil vessels
and of the guests may amount to two thousand.  Meantime
the giver of the feast causes a scaffold to be erected for the
reception of the skull, and the whole art of the wood-carver
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page401" id="page401"></a>[pg 401]</span>
is exhausted in decorating the scaffold with figures of turtles,
birds, and so forth, while a wooden dog acts as sentinel at
either end. When the multitude has assembled, and the
orchestra of drums, collected from the whole neighbourhood,
has sent forth a far-sounding crash of music, the giver of the
feast steps forward and pronounces a florid eulogium on the
deceased, a warm panegyric on the guests who have honoured
him by their presence, and a fluent invective against his
absent foes. Nor does he forget to throw in some delicate
allusions to his own noble generosity in providing the
assembled visitors with this magnificent entertainment. For
this great effort of eloquence the orator has been primed in
the morning by the sorcerer. The process of priming consists
in kneeling on the orator's shoulders and tugging at
the hair of his head with might and main, which is clearly
calculated to promote the flow of his rhetoric. If none of
the hair comes out in the sorcerer's hands, a masterpiece of
oratory is confidently looked forward to in the afternoon.
When the speech, for which such painful preparations have
been made, is at last over, the drums again strike up. No
sooner have their booming notes died away over land and sea,
than the sorcerer steps up to the scaffold, takes from it the
bleached skull, and holds it in both his hands. Then the
giver of the feast goes up to him, dips a bunch of dracaena
leaves in a vessel of oil, and smites the skull with it, saying,
"Thou art my father!" At that the drums again beat
loudly. Then he strikes the skull a second time with the
leaves, saying, "Take the food that has been made ready in
thine honour!" And again there is a crash of drums.
After that he smites the skull yet again and prays saying,
"Guard me! Guard my people! Guard my children!"
And every prayer of the litany is followed by the solemn
roll of the drums. When these impressive invocations to
the spirit of the dead chief are over, the feasting begins.
The skull is thenceforth carefully preserved.<a id="footnotetag639" name="footnotetag639"></a><a href="#footnote639"><sup>639</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Disposal of the dead in the Kaniet Islands. Preservation of
the skull.</p>

<p>In the Kaniet Islands, a small group to the north-west
of the Admiralty Islands, the dead are either sunk in the sea
or buried in shallow graves, face downward, near the house.
All the movable property of the deceased is piled on the
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page402" id="page402"></a>[pg 402]</span>
grave, left there for three weeks, and then burnt. Afterwards
the skull is dug up, placed in a basket, and having been
decorated with leaves and feathers is hung up in the house.
Thus adorned it not only serves to keep the dead in memory,
but is also employed in many conjurations to defeat the
nefarious designs of other ghosts, who are believed to work
most of the ills that afflict humanity.<a id="footnotetag640" name="footnotetag640"></a><a href="#footnote640"><sup>640</sup></a> Apparently these
islanders employ a ghost to protect them against ghosts on
the principle of setting a thief to catch a thief.</p>

<p class="side">Death attributed to witchcraft.</p>

<p>Amongst the natives of the Bismarck Archipelago few
persons, if any, are believed to die from natural causes
alone; if they are not killed in war they are commonly
supposed to perish by witchcraft or sorcery, even when the
cause of death might seem to the uninstructed European to
be sufficiently obvious in such things as exposure to heavy
rain, the carrying of too heavy a burden, or remaining too
long a time under water. So when a man has died, his
friends are anxious to discover who has bewitched him to
death. In this enquiry the ghost is expected to lend his
assistance. Thus on the night after the decease the friends
will assemble outside the house, and a sorcerer will address
the ghost and request him to name the author of his death.
If the ghost, as sometimes happens, makes no reply, the
sorcerer will jog his memory by calling out the name of
some suspected person; and should the ghost still be silent,
the wizard will name another and another, till at the mention
of one name a tapping sound is heard like the drumming
of fingers on a board or on a mat The sound may
proceed from the house or from a pearl shell which the
sorcerer holds in his hand; but come from where it may, it
is taken as a certain proof that the man who has just been
named did the deed, and he is dealt with accordingly.
Many a poor wretch in New Britain has been killed and
eaten on no other evidence than that of the fatal tapping.<a id="footnotetag641" name="footnotetag641"></a><a href="#footnote641"><sup>641</sup></a></p>

<span class="pagenum"><a name="page403" id="page403"></a>[pg 403]</span>

<p class="side">Burial customs in the Duke of York Island. Preservation of
the skull.</p>

<p>When a man of mark is buried in the Duke of York
Island, the masters of sorcery take leaves, spit on them, and
throw them, with a number of poisonous things, into the
grave, uttering at the same time loud imprecations on the
wicked enchanter who has killed their friend. Then they
go and bathe, and returning they fall to cursing again; and
if the miscreant survived the first imprecations, it is regarded
as perfectly certain that he will fall a victim to the second.
Sometimes, when the deceased was a chief distinguished for
bravery and wisdom, his corpse would be exposed on a high
platform in front of his house and left there to rot, while his
relatives sat around and inhaled the stench, conceiving that
with it they absorbed the courage and skill of the departed
worthy. Some of them would even anoint their bodies with
the drippings from the putrefying corpse for the same
purpose. The women also made fires that the ghost might
warm himself at them. When the head became detached
from the trunk, it was carefully preserved by the next of
kin, while the other remains were buried in a shallow grave
in the house. All the female relatives blackened their
dusky faces for a long time, after which the skull was put
on a platform, a great feast was held, and dances were
performed for many nights in its honour. Then at last the
spirit of the dead man, which till that time was supposed to
be lingering about his old abode, took his departure, and his
friends troubled themselves about him no more.<a id="footnotetag642" name="footnotetag642"></a><a href="#footnote642"><sup>642</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Prayers to the spirits of the dead.</p>

<p>The souls of the dead are always regarded by these
people as beings whose help can be invoked on special
occasions, such as fighting or fishing or any other matter
of importance; and since the spirits whom they invoke are
always those of their own kindred they are presumed to
be friendly to the petitioners. The objects for which formal
prayers are addressed to the souls of ancestors appear to be
always temporal benefits, such as victory over enemies and
plenty of food; prayers for the promotion of moral virtue
are seemingly unknown. For example, if a woman laboured
hard in childbirth, she was thought to be bewitched, and
prayers would be offered to the spirits of dead ancestors to
counteract the spell. Again, young men are instructed by
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page404" id="page404"></a>[pg 404]</span>
their elders in the useful art of cursing the enemies of the
tribe; and among a rich variety of imprecations an old man
will invoke the spirit of his brother, father, or uncle, or all of
them, to put their fingers into the ears of the enemy that
he may not hear, to cover his eyes that he may not see, and
to stop his mouth that he may not cry for help, but may
fall an easy prey to the curser and his friends.<a id="footnotetag643" name="footnotetag643"></a><a href="#footnote643"><sup>643</sup></a> More
amiable and not less effectual are the prayers offered to the
spirits of the dead over a sick man. At the mention of each
name in the prayer the supplicants make a chirping or
hissing sound, and rub lime over the patient. Before administering
medicine they pray over it to the spirits of the
dead; then the patient gulps it down, thus absorbing the
virtue of the medicine and of the prayer in one. In New
Britain they reinforce the prayers to the dead in time of
need by wearing the jawbone of the deceased; and in the
Duke of York Island people often wear a tooth or some
hair of a departed relative, not merely as a mark of respect,
but as a magical means of obtaining supernatural help.<a id="footnotetag644" name="footnotetag644"></a><a href="#footnote644"><sup>644</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">North Melanesian views as to the land of the dead.</p>

<p>Sooner or later the souls of all the North Melanesian
dead take their departure for the spirit land. But the
information which has reached the living as to that far
country is at once vague and inconsistent. They call it
<i>Matana nion</i>, but whereabout it lies they cannot for the
most part precisely tell. All they know for certain is that
it is far away, and that there is always some particular spot
in the neighbourhood from which the souls take their
departure; for example, the Duke of York ghosts invariably
start from the little island of Nuruan, near Mioko. Wherever
it may be, the land of souls is divided into compartments;
people who have died of sickness or witchcraft go
to one place, and people who have been killed in battle
go to another. They do not go unattended; for when a
man dies two friends sleep beside his corpse the first night,
one on each side, and their spirits are believed to accompany
the soul of the dead man to the spirit land. They say that
on their arrival in the far country, betel-nut is presented to
them all, but the two living men refuse to partake of it,
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page405" id="page405"></a>[pg 405]</span>
because they know that were they to eat it they would
return no more to the land of the living. When they do
return, they have often, as might be expected, strange tales
to tell of what they saw among the ghosts. The principal
personage in the other world is called the "keeper of souls."
It is said that once on a time the masterful ghost of a dead
chief attempted to usurp the post of warden of the dead; in
pursuance of this ambitious project he attacked the warden
with a tomahawk and cut off one of his legs, but the amputated
limb immediately reunited itself with the body; and a
second amputation was followed by the same disappointing
result. Life in the other world is reported to be very like
life in this world. Some people find it very dismal, and
others very beautiful. Those who were rich here will be
rich there, and those who were poor on earth will be poor
in Hades. As to any moral retribution which may overtake
evil-doers in the life to come, their ideas are very vague;
only they are sure that the ghosts of the niggardly will be
punished by being dumped very hard against the buttress-roots
of chestnut-trees. They say, too, that all breaches of
etiquette or of the ordinary customs of the country will
meet with certain appropriate punishments in the spirit
land. When the soul has thus done penance, it takes
possession of the body of some animal, for instance, the
flying-fox. Hence a native is much alarmed if he should
be sitting under a tree from which a flying-fox has been
frightened away. Should anything drop from the bat or
from the tree on which it was hanging, he would look on it
as an omen of good or ill according to the nature of the
thing which fell on or near him. If it were useless or dirty,
he would certainly apprehend some serious misfortune.
Sometimes when a man dies and his soul arrives in the
spirit land, his friends do not want him there and drive him
back to earth, so he comes to life again. That is the
explanation which the natives give of what we call the
recovery of consciousness after a faint or swoon.<a id="footnotetag645" name="footnotetag645"></a><a href="#footnote645"><sup>645</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">The land of the dead. State of the dead in the other world
supposed to depend on the amount of money they left in this one.</p>

<p>Some of the natives of the Gazelle Peninsula in New
Britain imagine that the home of departed spirits is in
Nakanei, the part of the coast to which they sail to get
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page406" id="page406"></a>[pg 406]</span>
their shell money. Others suppose that it is in the islands
off Cape Takes. So when they are sailing past these islands
they dip the paddles softly in the water, and observe a death-like
stillness, cowering down in the canoes, lest the ghosts
should spy them and do them a mischief. At the entrance
to these happy isles is posted a stern watchman to see that
no improper person sneaks into them. To every ghost that
arrives he puts three questions, "Who are you? Where do
you come from? How much shell money did you leave
behind you?" On his answers to these three questions
hangs the fate of the ghost.  If he left much money, he is
free to enter the realm of bliss, where he will pass the time
with other happy souls smoking and eating and enjoying
other sensual delights. But if he left little or no money, he
is banished the earthly paradise and sent home to roam
like a wild beast in the forest, battening on leaves and filth.
With bitter sighs and groans he prowls about the villages at
night and seeks to avenge himself by scaring or plaguing
the survivors. To stay his hunger and appease his wrath
relatives or friends will sometimes set forth food for him to
devour. Yet even for such an impecunious soul there is hope;
for if somebody only takes pity on him and gives a feast in
his honour and distributes shell money to the guests, the
ghost may return to the islands of the blest, and the door
will be thrown open to him.<a id="footnotetag646" name="footnotetag646"></a><a href="#footnote646"><sup>646</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Fiji and the Fijians.</p>

<p>So much for the belief in immortality as it is reported
to exist among the Northern Melanesians of New Britain
and the Bismarck Archipelago. We now pass to the consideration
of a similar belief among another people of the
same stock, who have been longer known to Europe, the
Fijians. The archipelago which they occupy lies to the
east of the New Hebrides and forms in fact the most easterly
outpost of the black Melanesian race in the Pacific. Beyond
it to the eastward are situated the smaller archipelagoes
of Samoa and Tonga, inhabited by branches of the brown
Polynesian race, whose members are scattered over the
islands of the Pacific Ocean from Hawaii in the north to
New Zealand in the south. Of all the branches of the
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page407" id="page407"></a>[pg 407]</span>
Melanesian stock the Fijians at the date of their discovery
by Europeans appear to have made the greatest advance in
culture, material, social, and political. "The Fijian," says
one who knew him long and intimately, "takes no mean
place among savages in the social scale. Long before the
white man visited his shores he had made very considerable
progress towards civilisation. His intersexual code had
advanced to the 'patriarchal stage': he was a skilful and
diligent husbandman, who carried out extensive and laborious
agricultural operations: he built good houses, whose interior
he ornamented with no little taste, carved his weapons in
graceful and intricate forms, manufactured excellent pottery,
beat out from the inner bark of a tree a serviceable papyrus-cloth,
upon which he printed, from blocks either carved or
ingeniously pieced together, elegant and elaborate patterns
in fast colours; and, with tools no better than a stone
hatchet, a pointed shell, and a firestick, he constructed large
canoes capable of carrying more than a hundred warriors
across the open sea."<a id="footnotetag647" name="footnotetag647"></a><a href="#footnote647"><sup>647</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Political superiority of the Fijians over the other
Melanesians.</p>

<p>Politically the Fijians shewed their superiority to all the
other Melanesians in the advance they had made towards a
regular and organised government. While among the other
branches of the same race government can hardly be said
to exist, the power of chiefs being both slender and precarious,
in Fiji the highest chiefs exercised despotic sway
and received from Europeans the title of kings. The people
had no voice in the state; the will of the king was generally
law, and his person was sacred. Whatever he touched or
wore became thereby holy and had to be made over to him;
nobody else could afterwards touch it without danger of
being struck dead on the spot as if by an electric shock.
One king took advantage of this superstition by dressing up
an English sailor in his royal robes and sending him about
to throw his sweeping train over any article of food, whether
dead or alive, which he might chance to come near. The
things so touched were at once conveyed to the king without
a word of explanation being required or a single remonstrance
uttered. Some of the kings laid claim to a divine origin
and on the strength of the claim exacted and received from
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page408" id="page408"></a>[pg 408]</span>
their subjects the respect due to deities. In these exorbitant
pretensions they were greatly strengthened by the institution
of taboo, which lent the sanction of religion to every exertion
of arbitrary power.<a id="footnotetag648" name="footnotetag648"></a><a href="#footnote648"><sup>648</sup></a> Corresponding with the growth of
monarchy was the well-marked gradation of social ranks
which prevailed in the various tribes from the king downwards
through chiefs, warriors, and landholders, to slaves.
The resulting political constitution has been compared to
the old feudal system of Europe.<a id="footnotetag649" name="footnotetag649"></a><a href="#footnote649"><sup>649</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Means of subsistence of the Fijians. Ferocity and depravity
of the Fijians.</p>

<p>Like the other peoples of the Melanesian stock the
Fijians subsist chiefly by agriculture, raising many sorts of
esculent fruits and roots, particularly yams, taro, plantains,
bread-fruit, sweet potatoes, bananas, coco-nuts, ivi nuts, and
sugar-cane; but the chief proportion of their food is derived
from yams (<i>Dioscorea</i>), of which they cultivate five or six
varieties.<a id="footnotetag650" name="footnotetag650"></a><a href="#footnote650"><sup>650</sup></a> It has been observed that "the increase of
cultivated plants is regular on receding from the Hawaiian
group up to Fiji, where roots and fruits are found that are
unknown on the more eastern islands."<a id="footnotetag651" name="footnotetag651"></a><a href="#footnote651"><sup>651</sup></a> Yet the Fijians
in their native state, like all other Melanesian and Polynesian
peoples, were entirely ignorant of the cereals; and in the
opinion of a competent observer the consequent defect in
their diet has contributed to the serious defects in their
national character. The cereals, he tells us, are the staple
food of all races that have left their mark in history; and
on the other hand "the apathy and indolence of the Fijians
arise from their climate, their diet and their communal
institutions. The climate is too kind to stimulate them to
exertion, their food imparts no staying power. The soil
gives the means of existence for every man without effort,
and the communal institutions destroy the instinct of
accumulation."<a id="footnotetag652" name="footnotetag652"></a><a href="#footnote652"><sup>652</sup></a> Nor are apathy and indolence the only or
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page409" id="page409"></a>[pg 409]</span>
the worst features in the character of these comparatively
advanced savages. Their ferocity, cruelty, and moral
depravity are depicted in dark colours by those who had
the best opportunity of knowing them in the old days before
their savagery was mitigated by contact with a milder
religious faith and a higher civilisation. "In contemplating
the character of this extraordinary portion of mankind,"
says one observer, "the mind is struck with wonder and
awe at the mixture of a complicated and carefully conducted
political system, highly finished manners, and ceremonious
politeness, with a ferocity and practice of savage vices which
is probably unparalleled in any other part of the world."<a id="footnotetag653" name="footnotetag653"></a><a href="#footnote653"><sup>653</sup></a>
One of the first civilised men to gain an intimate acquaintance
with the Fijians draws a melancholy contrast between the
baseness and vileness of the people and the loveliness of the
land in which they live.<a id="footnotetag654" name="footnotetag654"></a><a href="#footnote654"><sup>654</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Scenery of the Fijian islands.</p>

<p>For the Fijian islands are exceedingly beautiful. They
are of volcanic origin, mostly high and mountainous, but
intersected by picturesque valleys, clothed with woods, and
festooned with the most luxuriant tropical vegetation.
"Among their attractions," we are told, "are high mountains,
abrupt precipices, conical hills, fantastic turrets and crags of
rock frowning down like olden battlements, vast domes,
peaks shattered into strange forms; native towns on eyrie
cliffs, apparently inaccessible; and deep ravines, down which
some mountain stream, after long murmuring in its stony
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page410" id="page410"></a>[pg 410]</span>
bed, falls headlong, glittering as a silver line on a block of
jet, or spreading like a sheet of glass over bare rocks which
refuse it a channel. Here also are found the softer features
of rich vales, cocoa-nut groves, clumps of dark chestnuts,
stately palms and bread-fruit, patches of graceful bananas
or well-tilled taro-beds, mingling in unchecked luxuriance,
and forming, with the wild reef-scenery of the girdling shore,
its beating surf, and far-stretching ocean beyond, pictures of
surpassing beauty."<a id="footnotetag655" name="footnotetag655"></a><a href="#footnote655"><sup>655</sup></a> Each island is encircled by a reef of
white coral, on which the sea breaks, with a thunderous roar,
in curling sheets of foam; while inside the reef stretches
the lagoon, a calm lake of blue crystalline water revealing
in its translucent depths beautiful gardens of seaweed and
coral which fill the beholder with delighted wonder. Great
and sudden is the contrast experienced by the mariner when
he passes in a moment from the tossing, heaving, roaring
billows without into the unbroken calm of the quiet haven
within the barrier reef.<a id="footnotetag656" name="footnotetag656"></a><a href="#footnote656"><sup>656</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Fijian doctrine of souls.</p>

<p>Like most savages, the Fijians believed that man is
animated by a soul which quits his body temporarily in
sleep and permanently at death, to survive for a longer or a
shorter time in a disembodied state thereafter. Indeed, they
attributed souls to animals, vegetables, stones, tools, houses,
canoes, and many other things, allowing that all of them may
become immortal.<a id="footnotetag657" name="footnotetag657"></a><a href="#footnote657"><sup>657</sup></a>  On this point I will quote the evidence
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page411" id="page411"></a>[pg 411]</span>
of one of the earliest and best authorities on the customs
and beliefs of the South Sea Islanders. "There seems,"
says William Mariner, "to be a wide difference between the
opinions of the natives in the different clusters of the South
Sea islands respecting the future existence of the soul.
Whilst the Tonga doctrine limits immortality to chiefs,
<i>matabooles</i>, and at most, to <i>mooas</i>, the Fiji doctrine, with
abundant liberality, extends it to all mankind, to all brute
animals, to all vegetables, and even to stones and mineral
substances. If an animal or a plant die, its soul immediately
goes to Bolotoo; if a stone or any other substance is broken,
immortality is equally its reward; nay, artificial bodies have
equal good luck with men, and hogs, and yams. If an axe
or a chisel is worn out or broken up, away flies its soul for
the service of the gods. If a house is taken down, or any
way destroyed, its immortal part will find a situation on the
plains of Bolotoo; and, to confirm this doctrine, the Fiji
people can show you a sort of natural well, or deep hole in
the ground, at one of their islands, across the bottom of
which runs a stream of water, in which you may clearly
perceive the souls of men and women, beasts and plants, of
stocks and stones, canoes and houses, and of all the broken
utensils of this frail world, swimming or rather tumbling
along one over the other pell-mell into the regions of immortality.
Such is the Fiji philosophy, but the Tonga people
deny it, unwilling to think that the residence of the gods
should be encumbered with so much useless rubbish. The
natives of Otaheite entertain similar notions respecting these
things, viz. that brutes, plants, and stones exist hereafter,
but it is not mentioned that they extend the idea to objects
of human invention."<a id="footnotetag658" name="footnotetag658"></a><a href="#footnote658"><sup>658</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Reported Fijian doctrine of two human souls, a light one and
a dark one.</p>

<p>According to one account, the Fijians imagined that
every man has two souls, a dark soul, consisting of his
shadow, and a light soul, consisting of his reflection in water
or a looking-glass: the dark soul departs at death to Hades,
while the light soul stays near the place where he died or was
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page412" id="page412"></a>[pg 412]</span>
killed. "Probably," says Thomas Williams, "this doctrine
of shadows has to do with the notion of inanimate objects
having spirits. I once placed a good-looking native suddenly
before a mirror. He stood delighted. 'Now,' said he, softly,
'I can see into the world of spirits.'"<a id="footnotetag659" name="footnotetag659"></a><a href="#footnote659"><sup>659</sup></a> However, according
to another good authority this distinction of two human souls
rests merely on a misapprehension of the Fijian word for
shadow, <i>yaloyalo</i>, which is a reduplication of <i>yalo</i>, the word
for soul.<a id="footnotetag660" name="footnotetag660"></a><a href="#footnote660"><sup>660</sup></a> Apparently the Fijians pictured to themselves the
human soul as a miniature of the man himself. This may
be inferred from the customs observed at the death of a chief
among the Nakelo tribe. When a chief dies, certain men
who are the hereditary undertakers call him, as he lies, oiled
and ornamented, on fine mats, saying, "Rise, sir, the chief,
and let us be going. The day has come over the land."
Then they conduct him to the river side, where the ghostly
ferryman comes to ferry Nakelo ghosts across the stream.
As they attend the chief on his last journey, they hold their
great fans close to the ground to shelter him, because, as one
of them explained to a missionary, "His soul is only a little
child."<a id="footnotetag661" name="footnotetag661"></a><a href="#footnote661"><sup>661</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Absence of the soul in sleep. Catching the soul of a rascal
in a scarf.</p>

<p>The souls of some men were supposed to quit their
bodies in sleep and enter into the bodies of other sleepers,
troubling and disturbing them. A soul that had contracted
this bad habit was called a <i>yalombula</i>. When any one
fainted or died, his vagrant spirit might, so the Fijians
thought, be induced to come back by calling after it. Sometimes,
on awaking from a nap, a stout man might be seen
lying at full length and bawling out lustily for the return of
his own soul.<a id="footnotetag662" name="footnotetag662"></a><a href="#footnote662"><sup>662</sup></a> In the windward islands of Fiji there used
to be an ordeal called <i>yalovaki</i> which was much dreaded by
evil-doers.  When the evidence was strong against suspected
criminals, and they stubbornly refused to confess, the chief,
who was also the judge, would call for a scarf, with which "to
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page413" id="page413"></a>[pg 413]</span>
catch away the soul of the rogue." A threat of the rack
could not have been more effectual. The culprit generally confessed
at the sight and even the mention of the light instrument;
but if he did not, the scarf would be waved over his
head until his soul was caught in it like a moth or a fly, after
which it would be carefully folded up and nailed to the small
end of a chief's canoe, and for want of his soul the suspected
person would pine and die.<a id="footnotetag663" name="footnotetag663"></a><a href="#footnote663"><sup>663</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Fijian dread of sorcery and witchcraft.</p>

<p>Further, the Fijians, like many other savages, stood in
great terror of witchcraft, believing that the sorcerer had it
in his power to kill them by the practice of his nefarious
art. "Of all their superstitions," says Thomas Williams,
"this exerts the strongest influence on the minds of the
people. Men who laugh at the pretensions of the priest
tremble at the power of the wizard; and those who become
christians lose this fear last of all the relics of their
heathenism."<a id="footnotetag664" name="footnotetag664"></a><a href="#footnote664"><sup>664</sup></a> Indeed "native agents of the mission who,
in the discharge of their duty, have boldly faced death by
open violence, have been driven from their posts by their
dread of the sorcerer; and my own observation confirms the
statement of more than one observer that savages not unfrequently
die of fear when they think themselves bewitched."<a id="footnotetag665" name="footnotetag665"></a><a href="#footnote665"><sup>665</sup></a>
Professed practitioners of witchcraft were dreaded by all
classes, and by destroying mutual confidence they annulled
the comfort and shook the security of society. Almost all
sudden deaths were set down to their machinations. A
common mode of effecting their object was to obtain a
shred of the clothing of the man they intended to bewitch,
some refuse of his food, a lock of his hair, or some
other personal relic; having got it they wrapped it up
in certain leaves, and then cooked or buried it or hung
it up in the forest; whereupon the victim was supposed
to die of a wasting disease. Another way was to bury
a coco-nut, with the eye upward, beneath the hearth of the
temple, on which a fire was kept constantly burning; and as
the life of the nut was destroyed, so the health of the person
whom the nut represented would fail till death put an end to
his sufferings. "The native imagination," we are told, "is so
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page414" id="page414"></a>[pg 414]</span>
absolutely under the control of fear of these charms, that
persons, hearing that they were the object of such spells, have
lain down on their mats, and died through fear."<a id="footnotetag666" name="footnotetag666"></a><a href="#footnote666"><sup>666</sup></a> To guard
against the fell craft of the magician the people resorted to
many precautions. A man who suspected another of plotting
against him would be careful not to eat in his presence
or at all events to leave no morsel of food behind, lest the
other should secrete it and bewitch him by it; and for the
same reason people disposed of their garments so that no
part could be removed; and when they had their hair cut
they generally hid the clippings in the thatch of their own
houses. Some even built themselves a small hut and surrounded
it with a moat, believing that a little water had
power to neutralise the charms directed against them.<a id="footnotetag667" name="footnotetag667"></a><a href="#footnote667"><sup>667</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">The fear of sorcery has had the beneficial effect of
enforcing habits of personal cleanliness.</p>

<p>"In the face of such instances as these," says one who
knows the Fijians well, "it demands some courage to assert
that upon the whole the belief in witchcraft was formerly
a positive advantage to the community. It filled, in fact,
the place of a system of sanitation. The wizard's tools
consisting in those waste matters that are inimical to health,
every man was his own scavenger. From birth to old age
a man was governed by this one fear; he went into the sea,
the graveyard or the depths of the forest to satisfy his
natural wants; he burned his cast-off <i>malo</i>; he gave every
fragment left over from his food to the pigs; he concealed
even the clippings of his hair in the thatch of his house.
This ever-present fear even drove women in the western
districts out into the forest for the birth of their children,
where fire destroyed every trace of their lying-in. Until
Christianity broke it down, the villages were kept clean;
there were no festering rubbish-heaps nor filthy <i>raras</i>."<a id="footnotetag668" name="footnotetag668"></a><a href="#footnote668"><sup>668</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Fijian dread of ghosts. Uproar made to drive away ghosts.</p>

<p>Of apparitions the Fijians used to be very much afraid.
They believed that the ghosts of the dead appeared often
and afflicted mankind, especially in sleep. The spirits of
slain men, unchaste women, and women who died in
childbed were most dreaded. After a death people have
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page415" id="page415"></a>[pg 415]</span>
been known to hide themselves for a few days, until they
supposed the soul of the departed was at rest. Also they
shunned the places where people had been murdered, particularly
when it rained, because then the moans of the
ghost could be heard as he sat up, trying to relieve his pain
by resting his poor aching head on the palms of his hands.
Some however said that the moans were caused by the soul
of the murderer knocking down the soul of his victim,
whenever the wretched spirit attempted to get up.<a id="footnotetag669" name="footnotetag669"></a><a href="#footnote669"><sup>669</sup></a> When
Fijians passed a spot in the forest where a man had been
clubbed to death, they would sometimes throw leaves on it
as a mark of homage to his spirit, believing that they would
soon be killed themselves if they failed in thus paying their
respects to the ghost.<a id="footnotetag670" name="footnotetag670"></a><a href="#footnote670"><sup>670</sup></a> And after they had buried a man
alive, as they very often did, these savages used at nightfall
to make a great din with large bamboos, trumpet-shells, and
so forth, in order to drive away his spirit and deter him
from loitering about his old home. "The uproar is always
held in the late habitation of the deceased, the reason being
that as no one knows for a certainty what reception he
will receive in the invisible world, if it is not according
to his expectations he will most likely repent of his bargain
and wish to come back. For that reason they make a
great noise to frighten him away, and dismantle his former
habitation of everything that is attractive, and clothe it with
everything that to their ideas seems repulsive."<a id="footnotetag671" name="footnotetag671"></a><a href="#footnote671"><sup>671</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Killing a ghost.</p>

<p>However, stronger measures were sometimes resorted to.
It was believed to be possible to kill a troublesome ghost.
Once it happened that many chiefs feasted in the house of
Tanoa, King of Ambau. In the course of the evening one
of them related how he had slain a neighbouring chief.
That very night, having occasion to leave the house, he
saw, as he believed, the ghost of his victim, hurled his club
at him, and killed him stone dead. On his return to the
house he roused the king and the rest of the inmates from
their slumbers, and recounted his exploit. The matter was
deemed of high importance, and they all sat on it in solemn
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page416" id="page416"></a>[pg 416]</span>
conclave. Next morning a search was made for the club
on the scene of the murder; it was found and carried with
great pomp and parade to the nearest temple, where it was
laid up for a perpetual memorial. Everybody was firmly
persuaded that by this swashing blow the ghost had been
not only killed but annihilated.<a id="footnotetag672" name="footnotetag672"></a><a href="#footnote672"><sup>672</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Dazing the ghost of a grandfather.</p>

<p>A more humane method of dealing with an importunate
ghost used to be adopted in Vanua-levu, the largest but one
of the Fijian islands. In that island, as a consequence,
it is said, of reckoning kinship through the mother, a child
was considered to be more closely related to his grandfather
than to his father. Hence when a grandfather died, his
ghost naturally desired to carry off the soul of his grandchild
with him to the spirit land. The wish was creditable
to the warmth of his domestic affection, but if the
survivors preferred to keep the child with them a little
longer in this vale of tears, they took steps to baffle
grandfather's ghost. For this purpose when the old man's
body was stretched on the bier and raised on the shoulders
of half-a-dozen stout young fellows, the mother's brother
would take the grandchild in his arms and begin running
round and round the corpse. Round and round he ran,
and grandfather's ghost looked after him, craning his neck
from side to side and twisting it round and round in the
vain attempt to follow the rapid movements of the runner.
When the ghost was supposed to be quite giddy with this
unwonted exercise, the mother's brother made a sudden
dart away with the child in his arms, the bearers fairly
bolted with the corpse to the grave, and before he could
collect his scattered wits grandfather was safely landed in
his long home.<a id="footnotetag673" name="footnotetag673"></a><a href="#footnote673"><sup>673</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Special relation of grandfather to grandchild. Soul of a
grandfather reborn in his grandchildren.</p>

<p>Mr. Fison, who reports this quaint mode of bilking a
ghost, explains the special attachment of the grandfather
to his grandchild by the rule of female descent which survives
in Vanua-levu; and it is true that where exogamy
prevails along with female descent, a child regularly belongs
to the exogamous class of its grandfather and not of its
father and hence may be regarded as more closely akin to
the grandfather than to the father. But on the other hand
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page417" id="page417"></a>[pg 417]</span>
it is to be observed that exogamy at present is unknown in
Fiji, and at most its former prevalence in the islands can
only be indirectly inferred from relics of totemism and from
the existence of the classificatory system of relationship.<a id="footnotetag674" name="footnotetag674"></a><a href="#footnote674"><sup>674</sup></a>
Perhaps the real reason why in Vanua-levu a dead grandfather
is so anxious to carry off the soul of his living
grandchild lies nearer to hand in the apparently widespread
belief that the soul of the grandfather is actually reborn in
his grandchild. For example, in Nukahiva, one of the
Marquesas Islands, every one "is persuaded that the soul
of a grandfather is transmitted by nature into the body of
his grandchildren; and that, if an unfruitful wife were to
place herself under the corpse of her deceased grandfather,
she would be sure to become pregnant."<a id="footnotetag675" name="footnotetag675"></a><a href="#footnote675"><sup>675</sup></a> Again, the
Kayans of Borneo "believe in the reincarnation of the soul,
although this belief is not clearly harmonised with the belief
in the life in another world. It is generally believed that
the soul of a grandfather may pass into one of his grandchildren,
and an old man will try to secure the passage of
his soul to a favourite grandchild by holding it above his
head from time to time. The grandfather usually gives up
his name to his eldest grandson, and reassumes the original
name of his childhood with the prefix or title <i>Laki</i>, and the
custom seems to be connected with this belief or hope."<a id="footnotetag676" name="footnotetag676"></a><a href="#footnote676"><sup>676</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">A dead grandfather may reasonably reclaim his own soul from
his grandchild.</p>

<p>Now where such a belief is held, it seems reasonable
enough that a dead grandfather should reclaim his own soul
for his personal use before he sets out for the spirit land;
else how could he expect to be admitted to that blissful
abode if on arriving at the portal he were obliged to explain
to the porter that he had no soul about him, having
left that indispensable article behind in the person of his
grandchild? "Then you had better go back and fetch it.
There is no admission at this gate for people without souls."
Such might very well be the porter's retort; and foreseeing
it any man of ordinary prudence would take the precaution
of recovering his lost spiritual property before presenting
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page418" id="page418"></a>[pg 418]</span>
himself to the Warden of the Dead. This theory would
sufficiently account for the otherwise singular behaviour of
grandfather's ghost in Vanua-levu. At the same time it
must be admitted that the theory of the reincarnation of a
grandfather in a grandson would be suggested more readily
in a society where the custom of exogamy was combined
with female descent than in one where the same custom
coexisted with male descent; since, given exogamy and
female descent, grandfather and grandson regularly belong
to the same exogamous class, whereas father and son never
do so.<a id="footnotetag677" name="footnotetag677"></a><a href="#footnote677"><sup>677</sup></a> Thus Mr. Fison may after all be right in referring
the partiality of a Fijian grandfather for his grandson in
the last resort to a system of exogamy and female kinship.</p>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote627" name="footnote627"></a><b>Footnote 627:</b><a href="#footnotetag627"> (return) </a><p> G. Brown, D.D., <i>Melanesians and Polynesians</i>
(London, 1910), pp. 23 <i>sq.</i>, 125, 320 <i>sqq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote628" name="footnote628"></a><b>Footnote 628:</b><a href="#footnotetag628"> (return) </a><p> G. Brown, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 294 <i>sqq.</i>; P. A.
Kleintitschen, <i>Die K&uuml;stenbewohner der Gazellehalbinsel</i> (Hiltrup
bei M&uuml;nster, <span class="sc">N.D.</span>), pp. 90 <i>sqq.</i> The shell money is
called <i>tambu</i> in New Britain, <i>diwara</i> in the Duke of York
Island, and <i>aringit</i> in New Ireland.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote629" name="footnote629"></a><b>Footnote 629:</b><a href="#footnotetag629"> (return) </a><p>Rev. G. Brown, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 307, 313, 435, 436.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote630" name="footnote630"></a><b>Footnote 630:</b><a href="#footnotetag630"> (return) </a><p> Rev. G. Brown, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 270 <i>sq.</i>,
compare pp. 127, 200.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote631" name="footnote631"></a><b>Footnote 631:</b><a href="#footnotetag631"> (return) </a><p>Rev. G. Brown, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. v., 18.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote632" name="footnote632"></a><b>Footnote 632:</b><a href="#footnotetag632"> (return) </a><p> G. Brown, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 141 <i>sq.</i>, 144, 145,
190-193.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote633" name="footnote633"></a><b>Footnote 633:</b><a href="#footnotetag633"> (return) </a><p> G. Brown, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 142, 192, 385, 386
<i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote634" name="footnote634"></a><b>Footnote 634:</b><a href="#footnotetag634"> (return) </a><p> G. Brown, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 390. The custom of cremating
the dead in New Ireland is described more fully by Mr. R. Parkinson, who
says that the life-sized figures which are burned with the corpse
represent the deceased (<i>Dreissig Jahre in der S&uuml;dsee</i>, pp. 273
<i>sqq.</i>). In the central part of New Ireland the dead are buried in
the earth; afterwards the bones are dug up and thrown into the sea. See
Albert Hahl, "Das mittlere Neumecklenburg," <i>Globus</i>, xci. (1907)
p. 314.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote635" name="footnote635"></a><b>Footnote 635:</b><a href="#footnotetag635"> (return) </a><p> R. Parkinson, <i>Dreissig Jahre in der S&uuml;dsee</i>
(Stuttgart, 1907) p. 78; P. A. Kleintitschen, <i>Die K&uuml;stenbewohner der
Gazellehalbinsel</i> (Hiltrup bei M&uuml;nster, <span class="sc">N.D.</span>), p. 222.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote636" name="footnote636"></a><b>Footnote 636:</b><a href="#footnotetag636"> (return) </a><p> Mgr. Coupp&eacute;, "En Nouvelle-Pom&eacute;ranie," <i>Les Missions
Catholiques</i>, xxiii. (1891) pp. 364 <i>sq.</i>; J. Graf Pfeil,
<i>Studien und Beobachtungen aus der S&uuml;dsee</i> (Brunswick, 1899), p.
79.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote637" name="footnote637"></a><b>Footnote 637:</b><a href="#footnotetag637"> (return) </a><p>R. Parkinson, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 81.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote638" name="footnote638"></a><b>Footnote 638:</b><a href="#footnotetag638"> (return) </a><p> <i>P.</i> Rascher, <i>M.S.C.</i>, "Die Sulka, ein Beitrag
zur Ethnographic Neu-Pommern," <i>Archiv f&uuml;r Anthropologie</i>, xxix.
(1904) pp. 214 <i>sq.</i>, 216; R. Parkinson, <i>Dreissig Jahre in der
S&uuml;dsee</i>, pp. 185-187.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote639" name="footnote639"></a><b>Footnote 639:</b><a href="#footnotetag639"> (return) </a><p>R. Parkinson, <i>Dreissig Jahre in der S&uuml;dsee</i>, pp. 404-406.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote640" name="footnote640"></a><b>Footnote 640:</b><a href="#footnotetag640"> (return) </a><p>R. Parkinson, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 441 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote641" name="footnote641"></a><b>Footnote 641:</b><a href="#footnotetag641"> (return) </a><p> G. Brown, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 176, 183, 385 <i>sq.</i> As
to the wide-spread belief in New Britain that what we call natural
deaths are brought about by sorcery, see further <i>P.</i> Rascher,
<i>M.S.C.</i>, "Die Sulka, ein Beitrag zur Ethnographic Neu-Pommern,"
<i>Archiv f&uuml;r Ethnographie</i>, xxix. (1904) pp. 221 <i>sq.</i>; R.
Parkinson, <i>Dreissig Jahre in der S&uuml;dsee</i>, pp. 117 <i>sq.</i>
199-201; P. A. Kleintitschen, <i>Die K&uuml;sten-bewohner der
Gazellehalbinsel</i> (Hiltrup bei M&uuml;nster, <span class="sc">N.D.</span>), p. 215.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote642" name="footnote642"></a><b>Footnote 642:</b><a href="#footnotetag642"> (return) </a><p>G. Brown, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 387-390.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote643" name="footnote643"></a><b>Footnote 643:</b><a href="#footnotetag643"> (return) </a><p>G. Brown, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 35, 89, 196, 201.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote644" name="footnote644"></a><b>Footnote 644:</b><a href="#footnotetag644"> (return) </a><p>G. Brown, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 177, 183, 184.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote645" name="footnote645"></a><b>Footnote 645:</b><a href="#footnotetag645"> (return) </a><p>G. Brown, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 192-195.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote646" name="footnote646"></a><b>Footnote 646:</b><a href="#footnotetag646"> (return) </a><p> P. A. Kleintitschen, <i>Die K&uuml;stenbewohner der
Gazellehalbinsel</i>, pp. 225 <i>sq.</i> Compare R. Parkinson,
<i>Dreissig Jahre in der S&uuml;dsee</i>, p. 79.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote647" name="footnote647"></a><b>Footnote 647:</b><a href="#footnotetag647"> (return) </a><p> Lorimer Fison, <i>Tales from Old Fiji</i> (London, 1904),
p. xiv.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote648" name="footnote648"></a><b>Footnote 648:</b><a href="#footnotetag648"> (return) </a><p> Thomas Williams, <i>Fiji and the Fijians</i>, Second
Edition (London, 1860), i. 22-26.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote649" name="footnote649"></a><b>Footnote 649:</b><a href="#footnotetag649"> (return) </a><p> Charles Wilkes, <i>Narrative of the United States
Exploring Expedition</i>, New Edition (New York, 1851), iii. 77; Th.
Williams, <i>op. cit.</i> i. 18.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote650" name="footnote650"></a><b>Footnote 650:</b><a href="#footnotetag650"> (return) </a><p> Charles Wilkes, <i>Narrative of the United States
Exploring Expedition</i>, New Edition (New York, 1851), iii. 332
<i>sqq.</i>; Thomas Williams <i>Fiji and the Fijians</i>, Second Edition
(London, 1860), i. 60 <i>sqq.</i>; Berthold Seeman, <i>Viti</i>
(Cambridge, 1862), pp. 279 <i>sqq.</i>; Basil Thomson, <i>The
Fijians</i> (London, 1908), pp. 335 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote651" name="footnote651"></a><b>Footnote 651:</b><a href="#footnotetag651"> (return) </a><p>Th. Williams, <i>op. cit.</i> i. 60 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote652" name="footnote652"></a><b>Footnote 652:</b><a href="#footnotetag652"> (return) </a><p> Basil Thomson, <i>The Fijians</i>, pp. 338, 389
<i>sq.</i> The Fijians are in the main vegetarians, but the vegetables
which they cultivate "contain a large proportion of starch and water,
and are deficient in proteids. Moreover, the supply of the principal
staples is irregular, being greatly affected by variable seasons, and
the attacks of insects and vermin. Very few of them will bear keeping,
and almost all of them must be eaten when ripe. As the food is of low
nutritive value, a native always eats to repletion. In times of plenty a
full-grown man will eat as much as ten pounds' weight of vegetables in
the day; he will seldom be satisfied with less than five. A great
quantity, therefore, is required to feed a very few people, and as
everything is transported by hand, a disproportionate amount of time is
spent in transporting food from the plantation to the consumer. The time
spent in growing native food is also out of all proportion to its value"
(Basil Thomson, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 334 <i>sq.</i>). The same writer
tells us (p. 335) that it has never occurred to the Fijians to dry any
of the fruits they grow and to grind them into flour, as is done in
Africa.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote653" name="footnote653"></a><b>Footnote 653:</b><a href="#footnotetag653"> (return) </a><p> Capt. J. E. Erskine, <i>Journal of a Cruise among the
Islands of the Western Pacific</i> (London, 1853), pp. 272 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote654" name="footnote654"></a><b>Footnote 654:</b><a href="#footnotetag654"> (return) </a><p> Ch. Wilkes, <i>op. cit.</i> iii. 46, 363. As to the
cruelty and depravity of the Fijians in the old days see further Lorimer
Fison, <i>Tales from Old Fiji</i> (London, 1904), pp. xv. <i>sqq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote655" name="footnote655"></a><b>Footnote 655:</b><a href="#footnotetag655"> (return) </a><p> Th. Williams, <i>Fiji and the Fijians</i>, i. 6
<i>sq.</i> As to the scenery of the Fijian archipelago see further
<i>id.</i>, i. 4 <i>sqq.</i>; Ch. Wilkes, <i>op. cit.</i> iii. 46, 322;
<i>Stanford's Compendium of Geography and Travel, Australasia</i>, vol.
ii. <i>Malaysia and the Pacific Archipelago</i>, edited by F. H. H.
Guillemard (London, 1894), pp. 467 <i>sqq.</i>; Miss Beatrice Grimshaw,
<i>From Fiji to the Cannibal Islands</i> (London, 1907), pp. 43
<i>sq.</i>, 54 <i>sq.</i>, 76-78, 106, 109 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote656" name="footnote656"></a><b>Footnote 656:</b><a href="#footnotetag656"> (return) </a><p> Th. Williams, <i>Fiji and the Fijians</i>, i. 5
<i>sq.</i>, 11; Ch. Wilkes, <i>op. cit.</i> iii. 46 <i>sq.</i> However,
there is a remarkable difference not only in climate but in appearance
between the windward and the leeward sides of these islands. The
windward side, watered by abundant showers, is covered with luxuriant
tropical vegetation; the leeward side, receiving little rain, presents a
comparatively barren and burnt appearance, the vegetation dying down to
the grey hues of the boulders among which it struggles for life. Hence
the dry leeward side is better adapted for European settlement. See Ch.
Wilkes, <i>op. cit.</i> iii. 320 <i>sq.</i>; Th. Williams, <i>op.
cit.</i> i. 10; B. Seeman, <i>Viti, an Account of a Government Mission
to the Vitian or Fijian Islands in the years 1860-1861</i> (Cambridge,
1862), pp. 277 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote657" name="footnote657"></a><b>Footnote 657:</b><a href="#footnotetag657"> (return) </a><p> Th. Williams, <i>op. cit.</i> i. 241; J. E. Erskine,
<i>op. cit.</i> p. 249; B. Seeman, <i>Viti</i> (Cambridge, 1862), p.
398.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote658" name="footnote658"></a><b>Footnote 658:</b><a href="#footnotetag658"> (return) </a><p> William Mariner, <i>An Account of the Natives of the
Tonga Islands</i>, Second Edition (London, 1818), ii. 129 <i>sq.</i> The
<i>matabooles</i> were a sort of honourable attendants on chiefs and
ranked next to them in the social hierarchy; the <i>mooas</i> were the
next class of people below the <i>matabooles</i>. See W. Mariner, <i>op.
cit.</i> ii. 84, 86. Bolotoo or Bulu was the mythical land of the dead.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote659" name="footnote659"></a><b>Footnote 659:</b><a href="#footnotetag659"> (return) </a><p>Th. Williams, <i>Fiji and the Fijians</i>, i. 241.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote660" name="footnote660"></a><b>Footnote 660:</b><a href="#footnotetag660"> (return) </a><p> This is the opinion of my late friend, the Rev. Lorimer
Fison, which he communicated to me in a letter dated 26th August, 1898.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote661" name="footnote661"></a><b>Footnote 661:</b><a href="#footnotetag661"> (return) </a><p> Communication of the late Rev. Lorimer Fison in a letter
to me dated 3rd November, 1898. I have already published it in <i>Taboo
and the Perils of the Soul</i>, pp. 29 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote662" name="footnote662"></a><b>Footnote 662:</b><a href="#footnotetag662"> (return) </a><p> Th. Williams, <i>op. cit.</i> i. 242; Lorimer Fison,
<i>Tales from Old Fiji</i>, pp. 163 <i>sq.</i>; <i>Taboo and the Perils
of the Soul</i>, pp. 39 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote663" name="footnote663"></a><b>Footnote 663:</b><a href="#footnotetag663"> (return) </a><p>Th. Williams, <i>op. cit.</i> i. 250.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote664" name="footnote664"></a><b>Footnote 664:</b><a href="#footnotetag664"> (return) </a><p>Th. Williams, <i>op. cit.</i> i. 248.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote665" name="footnote665"></a><b>Footnote 665:</b><a href="#footnotetag665"> (return) </a><p>Lorimer Fison, <i>op. cit.</i> p. xxxii.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote666" name="footnote666"></a><b>Footnote 666:</b><a href="#footnotetag666"> (return) </a><p> Th. Williams, <i>op. cit.</i> i. 248 <i>sq.</i>; Lorimer
Fison, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. xxxi. <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote667" name="footnote667"></a><b>Footnote 667:</b><a href="#footnotetag667"> (return) </a><p>Th. Williams, <i>op. cit.</i> i. 249.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote668" name="footnote668"></a><b>Footnote 668:</b><a href="#footnotetag668"> (return) </a><p> Basil Thomson, <i>The Fijians</i> (London, 1908), p. 166.
A <i>rara</i> is a public square (Rev. Lorimer Fison, in <i>Journal of
the Anthropological Institute</i>, xiv. (1885) p. 17).</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote669" name="footnote669"></a><b>Footnote 669:</b><a href="#footnotetag669"> (return) </a><p>Th. Williams, <i>op. cit.</i> i. 241.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote670" name="footnote670"></a><b>Footnote 670:</b><a href="#footnotetag670"> (return) </a><p>Ch. Wilkes, <i>op. cit.</i> iii. 50.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote671" name="footnote671"></a><b>Footnote 671:</b><a href="#footnotetag671"> (return) </a><p> Narrative of John Jackson, in Capt. J. E. Erskine's
<i>Journal of a Cruise among the Islands of the Western Pacific</i>
(London, 1853), p. 477.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote672" name="footnote672"></a><b>Footnote 672:</b><a href="#footnotetag672"> (return) </a><p>Ch. Wilkes, <i>op. cit.</i> iii. 85.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote673" name="footnote673"></a><b>Footnote 673:</b><a href="#footnotetag673"> (return) </a><p>Lorimer Fison, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 168 <i>sq</i>.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote674" name="footnote674"></a><b>Footnote 674:</b><a href="#footnotetag674"> (return) </a><p> W. H. R. Rivers, "Totemism in Fiji," <i>Man</i>, viii.
(1908) pp. 133 <i>sqq.</i>; <i>Totemism and Exogamy</i>, ii. 134
<i>sqq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote675" name="footnote675"></a><b>Footnote 675:</b><a href="#footnotetag675"> (return) </a><p> U. Lisiansky, <i>A Voyage Round the World</i> (London,
1814), p. 89.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote676" name="footnote676"></a><b>Footnote 676:</b><a href="#footnotetag676"> (return) </a><p> Ch. Hose and W. McDougall, <i>The Pagan Tribes of
Borneo</i> (London, 1912), ii. 47.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote677" name="footnote677"></a><b>Footnote 677:</b><a href="#footnotetag677"> (return) </a><p>Compare <i>Totemism and Exogamy</i>, iii. 297-299.</p></blockquote>

<span class="pagenum"><a name="page419" id="page419"></a>[pg 419]</span>




<h2><a name="lecture-xix" id="lecture-xix"></a>LECTURE XIX</h2>

<h3>THE BELIEF IN IMMORTALITY AMONG THE NATIVES
OF EASTERN MELANESIA (FIJI) (<i>continued</i>)</h3>


<p class="side">Fijian indifference to death.</p>

<p>At the close of last lecture I illustrated the unquestioning
belief which the Fijians entertain with regard to the survival
of the human soul after death. "The native superstitions
with regard to a future state," we are told, "go far to
explain the apparent indifference of the people about death;
for, while believing in an eternal existence, they shut out
from it the idea of any moral retribution in the shape either
of reward or punishment. The first notion concerning death
is that of simple rest, and is thus contained in one of their
rhymes:&mdash;</p>

<div class="poem">  <div class="stanza">
<p>"Death is easy:</p>
<p> Of what use is life?</p>
<p class="i4">To die is rest."<a id="footnotetag678" name="footnotetag678"></a><a href="#footnote678"><sup>678</sup></a></p>
  </div>  </div>

<p>Again, another writer, speaking of the Fijians, says that
"in general, the passage from life to death is considered as
one from pain to happiness, and I was informed that nine
out of ten look forward to it with anxiety, in order to escape
from the infirmities of old age, or the sufferings of disease."<a id="footnotetag679" name="footnotetag679"></a><a href="#footnote679"><sup>679</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">John Jackson's account of the burying alive of a young Fijian
man. Son buried alive by his father.</p>

<p>The cool indifference with which the Fijians commonly
regarded their own death and that of other people might be
illustrated by many examples.  I will give one in the words
of an English eye-witness, who lived among these savages for
some time like one of themselves.  At a place on the coast
of Viti Levu, the largest of the Fijian Islands, he says,
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page420" id="page420"></a>[pg 420]</span>
"I walked into a number of temples, which were very
plentiful, and at last into a <i>bure theravou</i> (young man's <i>bure</i>),
where I saw a tall young man about twenty years old. He
appeared to be somewhat ailing, but not at all emaciated.
He was rolling up the mat he had been sleeping upon,
evidently preparing to go away somewhere. I addressed
him, and asked him where he was going, when he
immediately answered that he was going to be buried. I
observed that he was not dead yet, but he said he soon
should be dead when he was put under ground. I
asked him why he was going to be buried? He said it was
three days since he had eaten anything, and consequently
he was getting very thin; and that if he lived any longer
he would be much thinner, and then the women would call
him a <i>lila</i> (skeleton), and laugh at him. I said he was
a fool to throw himself away for fear of being laughed at;
and asked him what or who his private god was, knowing it
to be no use talking to him about Providence, a thing he
had never heard of. He said his god was a shark, and that
if he were cast away in a canoe and was obliged to swim,
the sharks would not bite him. I asked him if he believed
the shark, his god, had any power to act over him? He
said yes. 'Well then,' said I, 'why do you not live a little
longer, and trust to your god to give you an appetite?'
Finding that he could not give me satisfactory answers, and
being determined to get buried to avoid the jeers of the
ladies, which to a Feejeean are intolerable, he told me I
knew nothing about it, and that I must not compare him to
a white man, who was generally insensible to all shame, and
did not care how much he was laughed at. I called him a
fool, and said the best thing he could do was to get buried
out of the way, because I knew that most of them work by
the rules of contrary; but it was all to no purpose. By
this time all his relations had collected round the door.
His father had a kind of wooden spade to dig the grave
with, his mother a new suit of <i>tapa</i> [bark-cloth], his sister
some vermilion and a whale's tooth, as an introduction to
the great god of Rage-Rage. He arose, took up his bed
and walked, not for life, but for death, his father, mother,
and sister following after, with several other distant relations,
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page421" id="page421"></a>[pg 421]</span>
whom I accompanied. I noticed that they seemed to follow
him something in the same way that they follow a corpse in
Europe to the grave (that is, as far as relationship and
acquaintance are concerned), but, instead of lamenting, they
were, if not rejoicing, acting and chatting in a very unconcerned
way. At last we reached a place where several
graves could be seen, and a spot was soon selected by the
man who was to be buried. The old man, his father, began
digging his grave, while his mother assisted her son in
putting on a new <i>tapa</i> [bark-cloth], and the girl (his sister)
was besmearing him with vermilion and lamp-black, so as to
send him decent into the invisible world, he (the victim)
delivering messages that were to be taken by his sister to
people then absent. His father then announced to him and
the rest that the grave was completed, and asked him,
in rather a surly tone, if he was not ready by this time.
The mother then <i>nosed</i> him, and likewise the sister. He
said, 'Before I die, I should like a drink of water.' His
father made a surly remark, and said, as he ran to fetch it
in a leaf doubled up, 'You have been a considerable trouble
during your life, and it appears that you are going to trouble
us equally at your death.' The father returned with the
water, which the son drank off, and then looked up into
a tree covered with tough vines, saying he should prefer
being strangled with a vine to being smothered in the grave.
His father became excessively angry, and, spreading the mat
at the bottom of the grave, told the son to die <i>faka tamata</i>
(like a man), when he stepped into the grave, which was
not more than four feet deep, and lay down on his back
with the whale's tooth in his hands, which were clasped
across his belly. The spare sides of the mats were lapped
over him so as to prevent the earth from getting to his
body, and then about a foot of earth was shovelled in
upon him as quickly as possible. His father stamped it
immediately down solid, and called out in a loud voice,
'<i>Sa tiko, sa tiko</i> (You are stopping there, you are stopping
there),' meaning 'Good-bye, good-bye.' The son answered
with a very audible grunt, and then about two feet more
earth was shovelled in and stamped as before by the loving
father, and '<i>Sa tiko</i>' called out again, which was answered
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page422" id="page422"></a>[pg 422]</span>
by another grunt, but much fainter. The grave was then
completely filled up, when, for curiosity's sake, I said myself,
'<i>Sa tiko</i>' but no answer was given, although I fancied, or
really did see, the earth crack a little on the top of the
grave. The father and mother then turned back to back on
the middle of the grave, and, having dropped some kind
of leaves from their hands, walked away in opposite
directions towards a running stream of water hard by, where
they and all the rest washed themselves, and made me wash
myself, and then we returned to the town, where there was
a feast prepared. As soon as the feast was over (it being
then dark), began the dance and uproar which are always
carried on either at natural or violent deaths."<a id="footnotetag680" name="footnotetag680"></a><a href="#footnote680"><sup>680</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">The readiness of the Fijians to die seems to have been partly
a consequence of their belief in immortality.</p>

<p>The readiness with which the Fijians submitted to or
even sought death appears to have been to some extent
a direct consequence of their belief in immortality and of
their notions as to the state of the soul hereafter. Thus we
are informed by an early observer of this people that "self-immolation
is by no means rare, and they believe that as
they leave this life, so will they remain ever after. This
forms a powerful motive to escape from decrepitude, or
from a crippled condition, by a voluntary death."<a id="footnotetag681" name="footnotetag681"></a><a href="#footnote681"><sup>681</sup></a> Or,
as another equally early observer puts it more fully, "the
custom of voluntary suicide on the part of the old men,
which is among their most extraordinary usages, is also
connected with their superstitions respecting a future life.
They believe that persons enter upon the delights of their
elysium with the same faculties, mental and physical, that
they possess at the hour of death, in short, that the spiritual
life commences where the corporeal existence terminates.
With these views, it is natural that they should desire to
pass through this change before their mental and bodily
powers are so enfeebled by age as to deprive them of their
capacity for enjoyment. To this motive must be added
the contempt which attaches to physical weakness among
a nation of warriors, and the wrongs and insults which await
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page423" id="page423"></a>[pg 423]</span>
those who are no longer able to protect themselves. When
therefore a man finds his strength declining with the
advance of age, and feels that he will soon be unequal to
discharge the duties of this life, and to partake in the
pleasures of that which is to come, he calls together his
relations, and tells them that he is now worn out and useless,
that he sees they are all ashamed of him, and that he has
determined to be buried." So on a day appointed they met
and buried him alive.<a id="footnotetag682" name="footnotetag682"></a><a href="#footnote682"><sup>682</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">The sick and aged put to death by their relatives.</p>

<p>The proposal to put the sick and aged to death did not
always emanate from the parties principally concerned; when
a son, for example, thought that his parents were growing
too old and becoming a burden to him, he would give them
notice that it was time for them to die, a notice which they
usually accepted with equanimity, if not alacrity. As a
rule, it was left to the choice of the aged and infirm to say
whether they would prefer to be buried alive or to be
strangled first and buried afterwards; and having expressed
a predilection one way or the other they were dealt with
accordingly. To strangle parents or other frail and sickly
relatives with a rope was considered a more delicate
and affectionate way of dispatching them than to knock
them on the head with a club. In the old days the
missionary Mr. Hunt witnessed several of these tender
partings. "On one occasion, he was called upon by a
young man, who desired that he would pray to his spirit
for his mother, who was dead. Mr. Hunt was at first
in hopes that this would afford him an opportunity of
forwarding their great cause. On inquiry, the young man
told him that his brothers and himself were just going
to bury her. Mr. Hunt accompanied the young man,
telling him he would follow in the procession, and do as
he desired him, supposing, of course, the corpse would be
brought along; but he now met the procession, when the
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page424" id="page424"></a>[pg 424]</span>
young man said that this was the funeral, and pointed out
his mother, who was walking along with them, as gay and
lively as any of those present, and apparently as much
pleased. Mr. Hunt expressed his surprise to the young
man, and asked him how he could deceive him so much
by saying his mother was dead, when she was alive and
well. He said, in reply, that they had made her death-feast,
and were now going to bury her; that she was old;
that his brother and himself had thought she had lived long
enough, and it was time to bury her, to which she had
willingly assented, and they were about it now. He had
come to Mr. Hunt to ask his prayers, as they did those of
the priest. He added, that it was from love for his mother
that he had done so; that, in consequence of the same love,
they were now going to bury her, and that none but themselves
could or ought to do so sacred an office! Mr. Hunt
did all in his power to prevent so diabolical an act; but
the only reply he received was, that she was their mother,
and they were her children, and they ought to put her to
death. On reaching the grave, the mother sat down, when
they all, including children, grandchildren, relations, and
friends, took an affectionate leave of her; a rope, made of
twisted <i>tapa</i> [bark-cloth], was then passed twice around her
neck by her sons, who took hold of it, and strangled her;
after which she was put into her grave, with the usual
ceremonies. They returned to feast and mourn, after which
she was entirely forgotten as though she had not existed."<a id="footnotetag683" name="footnotetag683"></a><a href="#footnote683"><sup>683</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Wives strangled or buried alive at their husbands' funerals.</p>

<p>Again, wives were often strangled, or buried alive, at
the funeral of their husbands, and generally at their own
instance. Such scenes were frequently witnessed by white
residents in the old days.  On one occasion a Mr. David
Whippy drove away the murderers, rescued the woman,
and carried her to his own house, where she was resuscitated.
But far from feeling grateful for her preservation, she loaded
him with reproaches and ever afterwards manifested the
most deadly hatred towards him. "That women should
desire to accompany their husbands in death, is by no
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page425" id="page425"></a>[pg 425]</span>
means strange when it is considered that it is one of the
articles of their belief, that in this way alone can they reach
the realms of bliss, and she who meets her death with the
greatest devotedness, will become the favourite wife in the
abode of spirits. The sacrifice is not, however, always
voluntary; but, when a woman refuses to be strangled, her
relations often compel her to submit. This they do from
interested motives; for, by her death, her connexions become
entitled to the property of her husband. Even a delay is
made a matter of reproach. Thus, at the funeral of the
late king Ulivou, which was witnessed by Mr. Cargill, his
five wives and a daughter were strangled. The principal
wife delayed the ceremony, by taking leave of those around
her; whereupon Tanoa, the present king, chid her. The
victim was his own aunt, and he assisted in putting the
rope around her neck, and strangling her, a service he is
said to have rendered on a former occasion to his own
mother."<a id="footnotetag684" name="footnotetag684"></a><a href="#footnote684"><sup>684</sup></a> In the case of men who were drowned at sea or
killed and eaten by enemies in war, their wives were sacrificed
in the usual way. Thus when Ra Mbithi, the pride of
Somosomo, was lost at sea, seventeen of his wives were
destroyed; and after the news of a massacre of the Namena
people at Viwa in 1839 eighty women were strangled to
accompany the spirits of their murdered husbands.<a id="footnotetag685" name="footnotetag685"></a><a href="#footnote685"><sup>685</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Human "grass" for the grave.</p>

<p>The bodies of women who were put to death for this purpose
were regularly laid at the bottom of the grave to serve as
a cushion for the dead husband to lie upon; in this capacity
they were called grass (<i>thotho</i>), being compared to the dried
grass which in Fijian houses used to be thickly strewn on
the floors and covered with mats.<a id="footnotetag686" name="footnotetag686"></a><a href="#footnote686"><sup>686</sup></a> On this point, however,
a nice distinction was observed. While wives were commonly
sacrificed at the death of their husbands, in order to be
spread like grass in their graves, it does not transpire that
husbands were ever sacrificed at the death of their wives
for the sake of serving as grass to their dead spouses in
the grave. The great truth that all flesh is grass appears
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page426" id="page426"></a>[pg 426]</span>
to have been understood by the Fijians as applicable chiefly
to the flesh of women. Sometimes a man's mother was
strangled as well as his wives. Thus Ngavindi, a young
chief of Lasakau, was laid in the grave with a wife at his
side, his mother at his feet, and a servant not far off. However,
men as well as women were killed to follow their
masters to the far country. The confidential companion
of a chief was expected as a matter of common decency to
die with his lord; and if he shirked the duty, he fell in the
public esteem. When Mbithi, a chief of high rank and
greatly esteemed in Mathuata, died in the year 1840, not
only his wife but five men with their wives were strangled
to form the floor of his grave. They were laid on a layer
of mats, and the body of the chief was stretched upon them.<a id="footnotetag687" name="footnotetag687"></a><a href="#footnote687"><sup>687</sup></a>
There used to be a family in Vanua Levu which enjoyed
the high privilege of supplying a hale man to be buried
with the king of Fiji on every occasion of a royal decease.
It was quite necessary that the man should be hale and
hearty, for it was his business to grapple with the Fijian
Cerberus in the other world, while his majesty slipped past
into the abode of bliss.<a id="footnotetag688" name="footnotetag688"></a><a href="#footnote688"><sup>688</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Sacrifices of foreskins and fingers in honour of the dead.
Circumcision performed on a lad as a propitiatory sacrifice to save the
life of his father or father's brother. The rite of circumcision
followed by a licentious orgy.</p>

<p>A curious sacrifice offered in honour of a dead chief
consisted in the foreskins of all the boys who had arrived
at a suitable age; the lads were circumcised on purpose to
furnish them. Many boys had their little fingers chopped
off on the same occasion, and the severed foreskins and
fingers were placed in the chief's grave. When this bloody
rite had been performed, the chief's relatives presented
young bread-fruit trees to the mutilated boys, whose friends
were bound to cultivate them till the boys could do it
for themselves.<a id="footnotetag689" name="footnotetag689"></a><a href="#footnote689"><sup>689</sup></a> Women as well as boys had their fingers
cut off in mourning. We read of a case when after the
death of a king of Fiji sixty fingers were amputated and
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page427" id="page427"></a>[pg 427]</span>
being each inserted in a slit reed were stuck along the eaves
of the king's house.<a id="footnotetag690" name="footnotetag690"></a><a href="#footnote690"><sup>690</sup></a> Why foreskins and fingers were buried
with a dead chief or stuck up on the roof of his house, we
are not informed, and it is not easy to divine. Apparently
we must suppose that, when they were buried with the body,
they were thought to be of some assistance to the departed
spirit in the land of souls. At all events it deserves to be
noted that according to a very good authority a similar
sacrifice of foreskins used to be made not only for the dead
but for the living. When a man of note was dangerously
ill, a family council would be held, at which it might be
agreed that a circumcision should take place as a propitiatory
measure.  Notice having been given to the priests, an
uncircumcised lad, the sick man's own son or the son of one
of his brothers, was then taken by his kinsman to the <i>Vale
tambu</i> or God's House, and there presented as a <i>soro</i>, or
offering of atonement, in order that his father or father's
brother might be made whole. His escort at the same time
made a present of valuable property at the shrine and
promised much more in future, should their prayers be
answered. The present and the promises were graciously
received by the priest, who appointed a day on which the
operation was to be performed.  In the meantime no food
might be taken from the plantations except what was
absolutely required for daily use; no pigs or fowls might
be killed, and no coco-nuts plucked from the trees. Everything,
in short, was put under a strict taboo; all was set
apart for the great feast which was to follow the performance
of the rite. On the day appointed the son or nephew of
the sick chief was circumcised, and with him a number of
other lads whose friends had agreed to take advantage of
the occasion. Their foreskins, stuck in the cleft of a split
reed, were taken to the sacred enclosure (<i>Nanga</i>) and
presented to the chief priest, who, holding the reeds in
his hand, offered them to the ancestral gods and prayed for
the sick man's recovery.  Then followed a great feast,
which ushered in a period of indescribable revelry and
licence. All distinctions of property were for the time
being suspended.  Men and women arrayed themselves
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page428" id="page428"></a>[pg 428]</span>
in all manner of fantastic garbs, addressed one another in
the foulest language, and practised unmentionable abominations
openly in the public square of the town. The nearest
relationships, even that of own brother and sister, seemed
to be no bar to the general licence, the extent of which
was indicated by the expressive phrase of an old Nandi
chief, who said, "While it lasts, we are just like the pigs."
This feasting and orgy might be kept up for several days,
after which the ordinary restraints of society and the common
decencies of life were observed once more. The rights of
private property were again respected; the abandoned
revellers and debauchees settled down into staid married
couples; and brothers and sisters, in accordance with the
regular Fijian etiquette, might not so much as speak to one
another. It should be added that these extravagances
in connexion with the rite of circumcision appear to have
been practised only in certain districts of Viti Levu, the
largest of the Fijian Islands, where they were always associated
with the sacred stone enclosures which went by the
name of <i>Nanga</i>.<a id="footnotetag691" name="footnotetag691"></a><a href="#footnote691"><sup>691</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">These orgies were apparently associated with the worship of
the dead, to whom offerings were made in the <i>Nanga</i> or sacred
enclosure of stones.</p>

<p>The meaning of such orgies is very obscure, but from
what we know of the savage and his ways we may fairly
assume that they were no mere outbursts of unbridled
passion, but that in the minds of those who practised them
they had a definite significance and served a definite
purpose. The one thing that seems fairly clear about them
is that in some way they were associated with the worship
or propitiation of the dead. At all events we are told on
good authority that the <i>Nanga</i>, or sacred enclosure of stones,
in which the severed foreskins were offered, was "the Sacred
Place where the ancestral spirits are to be found by their
worshippers, and thither offerings are taken on all occasions
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page429" id="page429"></a>[pg 429]</span>
when their aid is to be invoked. Every member of the
<i>Nanga</i> has the privilege of approaching the ancestors at any
time. When sickness visits himself or his kinsfolk, when
he wishes to invoke the aid of the spirits to avert calamity
or to secure prosperity, or when he deems it advisable to
present a thank-offering, he may enter the <i>Nanga</i> with
proper reverence and deposit on the dividing wall his whale's
tooth, or bundle of cloth, or dish of toothsome eels so highly
prized by the elders, and therefore by the ancestors whose
living representatives they are: or he may drag into the
Sacred <i>Nanga</i> his fattened pig, or pile up there his offering
of the choicest yams. And, having thus recommended
himself to the dead, he may invoke their powerful aid, or
express his thankfulness for the benefits they have conferred,
and beg for a continuance of their goodwill."<a id="footnotetag692" name="footnotetag692"></a><a href="#footnote692"><sup>692</sup></a> The first-fruits
of the yam harvest were presented with great ceremony
to the ancestors in the <i>Nanga</i> before the bulk of the crop
was dug for the people's use, and no man might taste of
the new yams until the presentation had been made. The
yams so offered were piled up in the sacred enclosure and
left to rot there. If any one were impious enough to
appropriate them to his own use, it was believed that he
would be smitten with madness. Great feasts were held at
the presentation of the first-fruits; and the sacred enclosure
itself was often spoken of as the <i>Mbaki</i> or Harvest.<a id="footnotetag693" name="footnotetag693"></a><a href="#footnote693"><sup>693</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Periodical initiation of young men in the <i>Nanga</i>.</p>

<p>But the most characteristic and perhaps the most
important of the rites performed in the <i>Nanga</i> or sacred
stone enclosure was the periodical initiation of young men,
who by participation in the ceremony were admitted to the
full privileges of manhood. According to one account the
ceremony of initiation was performed as a rule only once in
two years; according to another account it was observed
annually in October or November, when the <i>ndrala</i> tree
(<i>Erythrina</i>) was in flower. The flowering of the tree
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page430" id="page430"></a>[pg 430]</span>
marked the beginning of the Fijian year; hence the novices
who were initiated at this season bore the title of <i>Vilavou</i>,
that is, "New Year's Men." As a preparation for the feasts
which attended the ceremony enormous quantities of yams
were garnered and placed under a strict taboo; pigs were
fattened in large numbers, and bales of native cloth stored
on the tie-beams of the house-roofs. Spears of many
patterns and curiously carved clubs were also provided
against the festival. On the day appointed the initiated
men went first into the sacred enclosure and made their
offerings, the chief priest having opened the proceedings by
libation and prayer. The heads of the novices were clean
shaven, and their beards, if they had any, were also removed.
Then each youth was swathed in long rolls of native cloth,
and taking a spear in one hand and a club in the other he
marched with his comrades, similarly swathed and armed,
in procession into the sacred enclosure, though not into its
inner compartment, the Holy of Holies. The procession
was headed by a priest bearing his carved staff of office,
and it was received on the holy ground by the initiates,
who sat chanting a song in a deep murmuring tone, which
occasionally swelled to a considerable volume of sound and
was thought to represent the muffled roar of the surf breaking
on a far-away coral reef. On entering the enclosure the
youths threw down their weapons before them, and with the
help of the initiated men divested themselves of the huge
folds of native cloth in which they were enveloped, each
man revolving slowly on his axis, while his attendant pulled
at the bandage and gathered in the slack. The weapons
and the cloth were the offerings presented by the novices to
the ancestral spirits for the purpose of rendering themselves
acceptable to these powerful beings. The offerings were
repeated in like manner on four successive days; and as
each youth was merely, as it were, the central roller of
a great bale of cloth, the amount of cloth offered was considerable.
It was all put away, with the spears and clubs,
in the sacred storehouse by the initiated men. A feast
concluded each day and was prolonged far into the night.</p>

<p class="side">Ceremony of death and resurrection.</p>

<p>On the fifth day, the last and greatest of the festival,
the heads of the young men were shaven again and their
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page431" id="page431"></a>[pg 431]</span>
bodies swathed in the largest and best rolls of cloth.
Then, taking their choicest weapons in their hands, they
followed their leader as before into the sacred enclosure.
But the outer compartment of the holy place, where on the
previous days they had been received by the grand chorus
of initiated men, was now silent and deserted. The procession
stopped. A dead silence prevailed. Suddenly from
the forest a harsh scream of many parrots broke forth, and
then followed a mysterious booming sound which filled the
souls of the novices with awe. But now the priest moves
slowly forward and leads the train of trembling novices for
the first time into the inner shrine, the Holy of Holies, the
<i>Nanga tambu-tambu</i>. Here a dreadful spectacle meets their
startled gaze. In the background sits the high priest,
regarding them with a stony stare; and between him and
them lie a row of dead men, covered with blood, their
bodies seemingly cut open and their entrails protruding.
The leader steps over them one by one, and the awestruck
youths follow him until they stand in a row before the
high priest, their very souls harrowed by his awful glare.
Suddenly he utters a great yell, and at the cry the dead
men start to their feet, and run down to the river to cleanse
themselves from the blood and filth with which they are
besmeared. They are initiated men, who represent the
departed ancestors for the occasion; and the blood and
entrails are those of many pigs that have been slaughtered
for that night's revelry. The screams of the parrots and
the mysterious booming sound were produced by a concealed
orchestra, who screeched appropriately and blew blasts on
bamboo trumpets, the mouths of which were partially
immersed in water.</p>

<p class="side">Sacrament of food and water.</p>

<p>The dead men having come to life again, the novices
offered their weapons and the bales of native cloth in which
they were swathed. These were accordingly removed to the
storehouse and the young men were made to sit down in
front of it. Then the high priest, cheered perhaps by
the sight of the offerings, unbent the starched dignity of
his demeanour. Skipping from side to side he cried in
stridulous tones, "Where are the people of my enclosure?
Are they gone to Tongalevu? Are they gone to the deep
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page432" id="page432"></a>[pg 432]</span>
sea?" He had not called long when an answer rang out
from the river in a deep-mouthed song, and soon the singers
came in view moving rhythmically to the music of their
solemn chant. Singing they filed in and took their places
in front of the young men; then silence ensued. After
that there entered four old men of the highest order of
initiates; the first bore a cooked yam carefully wrapt in
leaves so that no part of it should touch the hands of the
bearer; the second carried a piece of baked pork similarly
enveloped; the third held a drinking-cup of coco-nut shell
or earthenware filled with water and wrapt round with
native cloth; and the fourth bore a napkin of the same
material. Thereupon the first elder passed along the row
of novices putting the end of the yam into each of their
mouths, and as he did so each of them nibbled a morsel of
the sacred food; the second elder did the same with the
sacred pork; the third elder followed with the holy water,
with which each novice merely wetted his lips; and the
rear was brought up by the fourth elder, who wiped all
their mouths with his napkin. Then the high priest or one
of the elders addressed the young men, warning them
solemnly against the sacrilege of divulging to the profane
any of the high mysteries they had seen and heard, and
threatening all such traitors with the vengeance of the gods.</p>

<p class="side">Presentation of the pig.</p>

<p>That ceremony being over, all the junior initiated men
(<i>Lewe ni Nanga</i>) came forward, and each man presented
to the novices a yam and a piece of nearly raw pork;
whereupon the young men took the food and went away to
cook it for eating. When the evening twilight had fallen, a
huge pig, which had been specially set aside at a former
festival, was dragged into the sacred enclosure and there
presented to the novices, together with other swine, if they
should be needed to furnish a plenteous repast.</p>

<p class="side">Acceptance of the novices by the ancestral spirits.</p>

<p>The novices were now "accepted members of the <i>Nanga</i>,
qualified to take their place among the men of the community,
though still only on probation. As children&mdash;their
childhood being indicated by their shaven heads&mdash;they were
presented to the ancestors, and their acceptance was notified
by what (looking at the matter from the natives' standpoint)
we might, without irreverence, almost call the <i>sacrament</i> of
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page433" id="page433"></a>[pg 433]</span>
food and water, too sacred even for the elders' hands to
touch. This acceptance was acknowledged and confirmed
on the part of all the <i>Lewe ni Nanga</i> [junior initiated men]
by their gift of food, and it was finally ratified by the presentation
of the Sacred Pig. In like manner, on the birth
of an infant, its father acknowledges it as legitimate, and
otherwise acceptable, by a gift of food; and his kinsfolk
formally signify approval and confirmation of his decision
on the part of the clan by similar presentations."</p>

<p class="side">The initiation followed by a period of sexual license. Sacred
pigs.</p>

<p>Next morning the women, their hair dyed red and
wearing waistbands of hibiscus or other fibre, came to the
sacred enclosure and crawled through it on hands and knees
into the Holy of Holies, where the elders were singing their
solemn chant. The high priest then dipped his hands into
the water of the sacred bowl and prayed to the ancestral
spirits for the mothers and for their children. After that
the women crawled back on hands and feet the way they
had come, singing as they went and creeping over certain
mounds of earth which had been thrown up for the purpose
in the sacred enclosure. When they emerged from the
holy ground, the men and women addressed each other
in the vilest language, such as on ordinary occasions
would be violently resented; and thenceforth to the close
of the ceremonies some days later very great, indeed
almost unlimited, licence prevailed between the sexes.
During these days a number of pigs were consecrated
to serve for the next ceremony. The animals were deemed
sacred, and had the run of the fleshpots in the villages in
which they were kept. Indeed they were held in the
greatest reverence. To kill one, except for sacrifice at the
rites in the <i>Nanga</i>, would have been a sacrilege which the
Fijian mind refused to contemplate; and on the other
hand to feed the holy swine was an act of piety. Men
might be seen throwing down basketfuls of food before
the snouts of the worshipful pigs, and at the same time
calling the attention of the ancestral spirits to the meritorious
deed. "Take knowledge of me," they would cry, "ye who
lie buried, our heads! I am feeding this pig of yours."
Finally, all the men who had taken part in the ceremonies
bathed together in the river, carefully cleansing themselves
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page434" id="page434"></a>[pg 434]</span>
from every particle of the black paint with which they had
been bedaubed. When the novices, now novices no more,
emerged from the water, the high priest, standing on the
river bank, preached to them an eloquent sermon on the
duties and responsibilities which devolved on them in their
new position.<a id="footnotetag694" name="footnotetag694"></a><a href="#footnote694"><sup>694</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">The intention of the initiatory rites seems to be to
introduce the young men to the ancestral spirits. The drama of death and
resurrection. The Fijian rites of initiation seem to have been imported
by Melanesian immigrants from the west.</p>

<p>The general intention of these initiatory rites appears to
be, as Mr. Fison has said in the words which I have quoted,
to introduce the young men to the ancestral spirits at their
sanctuary, to incorporate them, so to say, in the great community
which embraces all adult members of the tribe,
whether living or dead. At all events this interpretation fits
in very well with the prayers which are offered to the souls
of departed kinsfolk on these occasions, and it is supported
by the analogy of the New Guinea initiatory rites which
I described in former lectures; for in these rites, as I pointed
out, the initiation of the youths is closely associated with
the conceptions of death and the dead, the main feature in
the ritual consisting indeed of a simulation of death and
subsequent resurrection.  It is, therefore, significant that the
very same simulation figures prominently in the Fijian ceremony,
nay it would seem to be the very pivot on which the
whole ritual revolves. Yet there is an obvious and important
difference between the drama of death and resurrection as it
is enacted in New Guinea and in Fiji; for whereas in New
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page435" id="page435"></a>[pg 435]</span>
Guinea it is the novices who pretend to die and come to life
again, in Fiji the pretence is carried out by initiated men
who represent the ancestors, while the novices merely look
on with horror and amazement at the awe-inspiring spectacle.
Of the two forms of ritual the New Guinea one is probably
truer to the original purpose of the rite, which seems to have
been to enable the novices to put off the old, or rather the
young, man and to put on a higher form of existence
by participating in the marvellous powers and privileges of
the mighty dead. And if such was really the intention of
the ceremony, it is obvious that it was better effected by
compelling the young communicants, as we may call them,
to die and rise from the dead in their own persons than
by obliging them to assist as mere passive spectators at
a dramatic performance of death and resurrection. Yet in
spite of this difference between the two rituals, the general
resemblance between them is near enough to justify us
in conjecturing that there may be a genetic connexion
between the one and the other. The conjecture is confirmed,
first, by the very limited and definite area of Fiji in which
these initiatory rites were practised, and, second, by the
equally definite tradition of their origin. With regard to the
first of these points, the <i>Nanga</i> or sacred stone enclosure with
its characteristic rites was known only to certain tribes, who
occupied a comparatively small area, a bare third of the
island of Viti Levu. These tribes are the Nuyaloa, Vatusila,
Mbatiwai, and Mdavutukia. They all seem to have spread
eastward and southward from a place of origin in the
western mountain district. Their physical type is pure
Melanesian, with fewer traces of Polynesian admixture than
can be detected in the tribes on the coast.<a id="footnotetag695" name="footnotetag695"></a><a href="#footnote695"><sup>695</sup></a> Hence it
is natural to enquire whether the ritual of the <i>Nanga</i> may
not have been imported into Fiji by Melanesian immigrants
from the west. The question appears to be answered in the
affirmative by native tradition. "This is the word of our
fathers concerning the <i>Nanga</i>," said an old Wainimala grey-beard
to Mr. Fison. "Long, long ago their fathers were
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page436" id="page436"></a>[pg 436]</span>
ignorant of it; but one day two strangers were found sitting
in the <i>rara</i> (public square), and they said they had come up
from the sea to give them the <i>Nanga</i>. They were little men,
and very dark-skinned, and one of them had his face and
bust painted red, while the other was painted black.
Whether these two were gods or men our fathers did not tell
us, but it was they who taught our people the <i>Nanga</i>. This
was in the old old times when our fathers were living in
another land&mdash;not in this place, for we are strangers here.
Our fathers fled hither from Navosa in a great war which
arose among them, and when they came there was no <i>Nanga</i> in
the land. So they built one of their own after the fashion
of that which they left behind them." "Here," says Mr.
Basil Thomson, "we have the earliest tradition of missionary
enterprise in the Pacific. I do not doubt that the two sooty-skinned
little men were castaways driven eastward by one
of those strong westerly gales that have been known to last
for three weeks at a time. By Fijian custom the lives of all
castaways were forfeit, but the pretence to supernatural
powers would have saved men full of the religious rites of
their Melanesian home, and would have assured them a
hearing. The Wainimala tribes can name six generations
since they settled in their present home, and therefore
the introduction of the <i>Nanga</i> cannot have been less than
two centuries ago. During that time it has overspread one
third of the large island."</p>

<p class="side">The general licence associated with the ritual of the
<i>Nanga</i> may be a temporary revival of primitive communism.</p>

<p>A very remarkable feature in the <i>Nanga</i> ritual consists
in the temporary licence accorded to the sexes and the
suspension of proprietary rites in general. What is the
meaning of this curious and to the civilised mind revolting
custom? Here again the most probable, though merely
conjectural, answer is furnished by Mr. Fison. "We cannot
for a moment believe," he says, "that it is a mere licentious
outbreak, without an underlying meaning and purpose. It
is part of a religious rite, and is supposed to be acceptable
to the ancestors. But why should it be acceptable to them
unless it were in accordance with their own practice in the
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page437" id="page437"></a>[pg 437]</span>
far-away past? There may be another solution of this
difficult problem, but I confess myself unable to find any
other which will cover all the corroborating facts."<a id="footnotetag696" name="footnotetag696"></a><a href="#footnote696"><sup>696</sup></a> In
other words, Mr. Fison supposes that in the sexual licence
and suspension of the rights of private property which
characterise these festivals we have a reminiscence of a time
when women and property were held in common by the
community, and the motive for temporarily resuscitating
these obsolete customs was a wish to propitiate the ancestral
spirits, who were thought to be gratified by witnessing a
revival of that primitive communism which they themselves
had practised in the flesh so long ago. Truly a religious
revival of a remarkable kind!</p>

<p class="side">Description of the <i>Nanga</i> or sacred enclosure of
stones.</p>

<p>To conclude this part of my subject I will briefly describe
the construction of a <i>Nanga</i> or sacred stone enclosure, as it
used to exist in Fiji. At the present day only ruins of these
structures are to be seen, but by an observation of the ruins
and a comparison of the traditions which still survive among
the natives on the subject it is possible to reconstruct one of
them with a fair degree of exactness. A <i>Nanga</i> has been
described as an open-air temple, and the description is just.
It consisted of a rough parallelogram enclosed by flat stones
set upright and embedded endwise in the earth. The length
of the enclosure thus formed was about one hundred feet
and its breadth about fifty feet. The upright stones which
form the outer walls are from eighteen inches to three feet
high, but as they do not always touch they may be described
as alignments rather than walls. The long walls or alignments
run east and west, the short ones north and south;
but the orientation is not very exact. At the eastern end
are two pyramidal heaps of stones, about five feet high,
with square sloping sides and flat tops. The narrow
passage between them is the main entrance into the sacred
enclosure. Internally the structure was divided into three
separate enclosures or compartments by two cross-walls of
stone running north and south. These compartments, taking
them from east to west, were called respectively the Little
Nanga, the Great Nanga, and the Sacred Nanga or Holy of
Holies (<i>Nanga tambu-tambu</i>). The partition walls between
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page438" id="page438"></a>[pg 438]</span>
them were built solid of stones, with battering sides, to
a height of five feet, and in the middle of each there was an
opening to allow the worshippers to pass from one compartment
to another. Trees, such as the candlenut and the red-leaved
dracaena, and odoriferous shrubs were planted round
the enclosure; and outside of it, to the west of the Holy of
Holies, was a bell-roofed hut called <i>Vale tambu</i>, the Sacred
House or Temple. The sacred <i>kava</i> bowl stood in the
Holy of Holies.<a id="footnotetag697" name="footnotetag697"></a><a href="#footnote697"><sup>697</sup></a> It is said that when the two traditionary
founders of the <i>Nanga</i> in Fiji were about to erect the first
structure of that name in their new home, the chief priest
poured a libation of <i>kava</i> to the ancestral gods, "and, calling
upon those who died long, long ago by name, he prayed that
the people of the tribe, both old and young, might live
before them."<a id="footnotetag698" name="footnotetag698"></a><a href="#footnote698"><sup>698</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Comparison of the <i>Nanga</i> with the cromlechs and other
megalithic monuments of Europe.</p>

<p>The sacred enclosures of stones which I have described
have been compared to the alignments of stones at Carnac
in Brittany and Merivale on Dartmoor, and it has been
suggested that in the olden time these ancient European
monuments may have witnessed religious rites like those
which were till lately performed in the rude open-air temples
of Fiji.<a id="footnotetag699" name="footnotetag699"></a><a href="#footnote699"><sup>699</sup></a> If there is any truth in the suggestion, which I
mention for what it is worth, it would furnish another
argument in favour of the view that our European cromlechs
and other megalithic monuments were erected specially for
the worship of the dead. The mortuary character of Stonehenge,
for example, is at least suggested by the burial
mounds which cluster thick around and within sight of it;
about three hundred such tombs have been counted within a
radius of three miles, while the rest of the country in the
neighbourhood is comparatively free from them.<a id="footnotetag700" name="footnotetag700"></a><a href="#footnote700"><sup>700</sup></a></p>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote678" name="footnote678"></a><b>Footnote 678:</b><a href="#footnotetag678"> (return) </a><p> Th. Williams, <i>Fiji and the Fijians</i>, Second Edition
(London, 1860), i. 242 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote679" name="footnote679"></a><b>Footnote 679:</b><a href="#footnotetag679"> (return) </a><p> Charles Wilkes, <i>Narrative of the United States
Exploring Expedition</i>, New Edition (New York, 1851), iii. 86.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote680" name="footnote680"></a><b>Footnote 680:</b><a href="#footnotetag680"> (return) </a><p> John Jackson's Narrative, in Capt. J. E. Erskine's
<i>Journal of a Cruise among the Islands of the Western Pacific</i>
(London, 1853), pp. 475-477. The narrator, John Jackson, was an English
seaman who resided alone among the Fijians for nearly two years and
learned their language.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote681" name="footnote681"></a><b>Footnote 681:</b><a href="#footnotetag681"> (return) </a><p>Ch. Wilkes, <i>op. cit.</i> iii. 96.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote682" name="footnote682"></a><b>Footnote 682:</b><a href="#footnotetag682"> (return) </a><p> <i>United States Exploring Expedition, Ethnology and
Philology</i>, by H. Hale (Philadelphia, 1846), p. 65. Compare Capt. J.
E. Erskine, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 248: "It would also seem that a belief in
the resurrection of the body, in the exact condition in which it leaves
the world, is one of the causes that induce, in many instances, a desire
for death in the vigour of manhood, rather than in the decrepitude of
old age"; Th. Williams, <i>op. cit.</i> i. 183: "The heathen notion is,
that, as they die, such will their condition be in another world; hence
their desire to escape extreme infirmity."</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote683" name="footnote683"></a><b>Footnote 683:</b><a href="#footnotetag683"> (return) </a><p> Ch. Wilkes, <i>op. cit.</i> iii. 94 <i>sq.</i> Compare
Th. Williams, <i>Fiji and the Fijians</i>, i. 183-186; Lorimer Fison,
<i>Tales from Old Fiji</i> (London, 1904), pp. xxv. <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote684" name="footnote684"></a><b>Footnote 684:</b><a href="#footnotetag684"> (return) </a><p> Ch. Wilkes, <i>op. cit.</i> iii. 96. Compare Th.
Williams, <i>op. cit.</i> i. 188 <i>sq.</i>, 193 <i>sqq.</i>, 200-202;
Lorimer Fison, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. xxv. <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote685" name="footnote685"></a><b>Footnote 685:</b><a href="#footnotetag685"> (return) </a><p>Th. Williams, <i>op. cit.</i> i. 200.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote686" name="footnote686"></a><b>Footnote 686:</b><a href="#footnotetag686"> (return) </a><p> Th. Williams, <i>op. cit.</i> i. 189;
Lorimer Fison, <i>op. cit.</i> p. xvi.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote687" name="footnote687"></a><b>Footnote 687:</b><a href="#footnotetag687"> (return) </a><p>Th. Williams, <i>op. cit.</i> i. 189.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote688" name="footnote688"></a><b>Footnote 688:</b><a href="#footnotetag688"> (return) </a><p>Th. Williams, <i>op. cit.</i> i. 197.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote689" name="footnote689"></a><b>Footnote 689:</b><a href="#footnotetag689"> (return) </a><p> Ch. Wilkes, <i>op. cit.</i> iii. 100. Williams also says
(<i>op. cit.</i> i. 167) that the proper time for performing the rite of
circumcision was after the death of a chief, and he tells us that "many
rude games attend it. Blindfolded youths strike at thin vessels of water
hung from the branch of a tree. At Lakemba, the men arm themselves with
branches of the cocoa-nut, and carry on a sham fight. At Ono, they
wrestle. At Mbau, they fillip small stones from the end of a bamboo with
sufficient force to make the person hit wince again. On Vanua Levu,
there is a mock siege."</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote690" name="footnote690"></a><b>Footnote 690:</b><a href="#footnotetag690"> (return) </a><p>Th. Williams, <i>op. cit.</i> i. 198.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote691" name="footnote691"></a><b>Footnote 691:</b><a href="#footnotetag691"> (return) </a><p> Rev. Lorimer Fison, "The Nanga, or Sacred Stone
Enclosure, of Wainimala, Fiji," <i>Journal of the Anthropological
Institute</i>, xiv. (1885) pp. 27 <i>sq.</i> On the other hand Mr. Basil
Thomson's enquiries, made at a later date, did not confirm Mr. Fison's
statement that the rite of circumcision was practised as a propitiation
to recover a chief from sickness. "I was assured," he says, "on the
contrary, that while offerings were certainly made in the <i>Nanga</i>
for the recovery of the sick, every youth was circumcised as a matter of
routine, and that the rite was in no way connected with sacrifice for
the sick" (Basil Thomson, <i>The Fijians</i>, pp. 156 <i>sq.</i>).
However, Mr. Fison was a very careful and accurate enquirer, and his
testimony is not to be lightly set aside.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote692" name="footnote692"></a><b>Footnote 692:</b><a href="#footnotetag692"> (return) </a><p> Rev. Lorimer Fison, "The Nanga, or Sacred Stone
Enclosure, of Wainimala, Fiji," <i>Journal of the Anthropological
Institute</i>, xiv. (1885) p. 26. Compare Basil Thomson, <i>The
Fijians</i>, p. 147: "The <i>Nanga</i> was the 'bed' of the Ancestors,
that is, the spot where their descendants might hold communion with
them; the <i>Mbaki</i> were the rites celebrated in the <i>Nanga</i>,
whether of initiating the youths, or of presenting the first-fruits, or
of recovering the sick, or of winning charms against wounds in battle."</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote693" name="footnote693"></a><b>Footnote 693:</b><a href="#footnotetag693"> (return) </a><p>Rev. Lorimer Fison, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 27.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote694" name="footnote694"></a><b>Footnote 694:</b><a href="#footnotetag694"> (return) </a><p> Rev. Lorimer Fison, "The Nanga, or Sacred Stone
Enclosure, of Wainimala, Fiji," <i>Journal of the Anthropological
Institute</i>, xiv. (1885) pp. 14-26. The <i>Nanga</i> and its rites
have also been described by Mr. A. B. Joske ("The Nanga of Viti-levu,"
<i>Internationales Archiv f&uuml;r Ethnographie</i>, ii. (1889) pp. 254-266),
and Mr. Basil Thomson (<i>The Fijians</i>, pp. 146-156). As to the
interval between the initiatory ceremonies Mr. Fison tells us that it
was normally two years, but he adds: "This period, however, is not
necessarily restricted to two years. There are always a number of youths
who are growing to the proper age, and the length of the interval
depends upon the decision of the elders. Whenever they judge that there
is a sufficient number of youths ready for admission, a <i>Nanga</i> is
appointed to be held; and thus the interval may be longer or shorter,
according to the supply of novices" (<i>op. cit.</i> p. 19). According
to Mr. Basil Thomson the rites were celebrated annually. Mr. Fison's
evidence as to the gross license which prevailed between the sexes after
the admission of the women to the sacred enclosure is confirmed by Mr.
Basil Thomson, who says, amongst other things, that "a native of Mbau,
who lived for some years near the <i>Nanga</i>, assured me that the
visit of the women to the <i>Nanga</i> resulted in temporary
promiscuity; all tabus were defied, and relations who could not speak to
one another by customary law committed incest" (<i>op. cit.</i> p.
154).</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote695" name="footnote695"></a><b>Footnote 695:</b><a href="#footnotetag695"> (return) </a><p> Rev. Lorimer Fison, "The Nanga, or Sacred Stone
Enclosure, of Wainimala, Fiji," <i>Journal of the Anthropological
Institute</i>, xiv. (1885) pp. 14 <i>sqq.</i>; Basil Thomson, <i>The
Fijians</i>, pp. 147, 149.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote696" name="footnote696"></a><b>Footnote 696:</b><a href="#footnotetag696"> (return) </a><p>Rev. Lorimer Fison, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 30.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote697" name="footnote697"></a><b>Footnote 697:</b><a href="#footnotetag697"> (return) </a><p> Rev. Lorimer Fison, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 15, 17, with
Plate I.; Basil Thomson, <i>The Fijians</i>, pp. 147 <i>sq.</i> Mr.
Fison had not seen a <i>Nanga</i>; his description is based on
information received from natives. Mr. Basil Thomson visited several of
these structures and found them so alike that one description would
serve for all. He speaks of only two inner compartments, which he calls
the Holy of Holies (<i>Nanga tambu-tambu</i>) and the Middle Nanga
(<i>Loma ni Nanga</i>), but the latter name appears to imply a third
compartment, which is explicitly mentioned and named by Mr. Fison. The
bell-shaped hut or temple to the west of the sacred enclosure is not
noticed by Mr. Thomson.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote698" name="footnote698"></a><b>Footnote 698:</b><a href="#footnotetag698"> (return) </a><p>Rev. Lorimer Fison, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 17.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote699" name="footnote699"></a><b>Footnote 699:</b><a href="#footnotetag699"> (return) </a><p>Basil Thomson, <i>The Fijians</i>, p. 147.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote700" name="footnote700"></a><b>Footnote 700:</b><a href="#footnotetag700"> (return) </a><p> As to these monuments see Sir
John Lubbock (Lord Avebury), <i>Prehistoric
Times</i>, Fifth Edition (London,
1890), p. 127.</p></blockquote>

<span class="pagenum"><a name="page439" id="page439"></a>[pg 439]</span>




<h2><a name="lecture-xx" id="lecture-xx"></a>LECTURE XX</h2>

<h3>THE BELIEF IN IMMORTALITY AMONG THE NATIVES
OF EASTERN MELANESIA (FIJI) (<i>concluded</i>)</h3>


<p class="side">Worship of ancestors in Fiji.</p>

<p>In the last lecture I described the rites of ancestor worship
which in certain parts of Fiji used to be celebrated at the
sacred enclosures of stones known as <i>Nangas</i>. But the
worship of ancestral spirits was by no means confined to
the comparatively small area in Fiji where such sacred
enclosures were erected, nor were these open-air temples the
only structures where the homage of the living was paid to
the dead. On the contrary we are told by one who knew
the Fijians in the old heathen days that among them "as
soon as beloved parents expire, they take their place amongst
the family gods. <i>Bures</i>, or temples, are erected to their
memory, and offerings deposited either on their graves or
on rudely constructed altars&mdash;mere stages, in the form of
tables, the legs of which are driven into the ground, and the
top of which is covered with pieces of native cloth. The
construction of these altars is identical with that observed
by Turner in Tanna, and only differs in its inferior finish
from the altars formerly erected in Tahiti and the adjacent
islands. The offerings, consisting of the choicest articles of
food, are left exposed to wind and weather, and firmly
believed by the mass of Fijians to be consumed by the
spirits of departed friends and relations; but, if not eaten
by animals, they are often stolen by the more enlightened
class of their countrymen, and even some of the foreigners
do not disdain occasionally to help themselves freely to
them. However, it is not only on tombs or on altars that
offerings are made; often, when the natives eat or drink
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page440" id="page440"></a>[pg 440]</span>
anything, they throw portions of it away, stating them to
be for their departed ancestors. I remember ordering a
young chief to empty a bowl containing <i>kava</i>, which he did,
muttering to himself, 'There, father, is some <i>kava</i> for you.
Protect me from illness or breaking any of my limbs whilst
in the mountains.'"<a id="footnotetag701" name="footnotetag701"></a><a href="#footnote701"><sup>701</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Fijian notion of divinity. Two classes of gods, namely, gods
strictly so called, and deified men.</p>

<p>"The native word expressive of divinity is <i>kalou</i>, which,
while used to denote the people's highest notion of a god, is
also constantly heard as a qualificative of any thing great
or marvellous, or, according to Hazlewood's Dictionary,
'anything superlative, whether good or bad.'... Often
the word sinks into a mere exclamation, or becomes an
expression of flattery.  'You are a <i>kalou</i>!' or, 'Your
countrymen are gods!' is often uttered by the natives,
when hearing of the triumphs of art among civilized nations."<a id="footnotetag702" name="footnotetag702"></a><a href="#footnote702"><sup>702</sup></a>
The Fijians distinguished two classes of gods: first, <i>kalou
vu</i>, literally "Root-gods," that is, gods strictly so called, and
second, <i>kalou yalo</i>, literally, "Soul-gods," that is, deified
mortals. Gods of the first class were supposed to be
absolutely eternal; gods of the second class, though raised
far above mere humanity, were thought nevertheless to be
subject to human passions and wants, to accidents, and even
to death. These latter were the spirits of departed chiefs,
heroes, and friends; admission into their number was easy,
and any one might secure his own apotheosis who could
ensure the services of some one to act as his representative
and priest after his death.<a id="footnotetag703" name="footnotetag703"></a><a href="#footnote703"><sup>703</sup></a> However, though the Fijians
admitted the distinction between the two classes of gods in
theory, they would seem to have confused them in practice.
Thus we are informed by an early authority that "they
have superior and inferior gods and goddesses, more general
and local deities, and, were it not an obvious contradiction,
we should say they have gods <i>human</i>, and gods <i>divine</i>; for
they have some gods who were gods originally, and some
who were originally men. It is impossible to ascertain with
any degree of probability how many gods the Fijians
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page441" id="page441"></a>[pg 441]</span>
have, as any man who can distinguish himself in murdering
his fellow-men may certainly secure to himself deification
after death. Their friends are also sometimes deified and
invoked. I have heard them invoke their friends who have
been drowned at sea. I need not advert to the absurdity
of praying to those who could not save themselves from a
watery grave. Tuikilakila, the chief of Somosomo, offered
Mr. Hunt a preferment of this sort. 'If you die first,' said
he, 'I shall make you my god.' In fact, there appears to
be no certain line of demarcation between departed spirits
and gods, nor between gods and living men, for many of
the priests and old chiefs are considered as sacred persons,
and not a few of them will also claim to themselves the
right of divinity. 'I am a god,' Tuikilakila would sometimes
say; and he believed it too. They were not merely
the words of his lips; he believed he was something above a
mere man."<a id="footnotetag704" name="footnotetag704"></a><a href="#footnote704"><sup>704</sup></a></p>

<p>Writers on Fiji have given us lists of some of the
principal gods of the first class,<a id="footnotetag705" name="footnotetag705"></a><a href="#footnote705"><sup>705</sup></a> who were supposed never to
have been men; but in their account of the religious ritual
they do not distinguish between the worship which was paid
to such deities and that which was paid to deified men.
Accordingly we may infer that the ritual was practically the
same, and in the sequel I shall assume that what is told us
of the worship of gods in general holds good of the worship
of deified men in particular.</p>

<p class="side">The Fijian temple (<i>bure</i>).</p>

<p>Every Fijian town had at least one <i>bure</i> or temple,
many of them had several. Significantly enough the spot
where a chief had been killed was sometimes chosen for
the site of a temple. The structure of these edifices was
somewhat peculiar. Each of them was built on the top of a
mound, which was raised to the height of from three to
twenty feet above the ground and faced on its sloping sides
with dry rubble-work of stone. The ascent to the temple
was by a thick plank, the upper surface of which was cut
into notched steps. The proportions of the sacred edifice
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page442" id="page442"></a>[pg 442]</span>
itself were inelegant, if not uncouth, its height being nearly
twice as great as its breadth at the base. The roof was
high-pitched; the ridge-pole was covered with white shells
(<i>Ovula cypraea</i>) and projected three or four feet at each
end. For the most part each temple had two doors and a
fire-place in the centre. From some temples it was not
lawful to throw out the ashes, however much they might
accumulate, until the end of the year, which fell in November.
The furniture consisted of a few boxes, mats, several large
clay jars, and many drinking vessels. A temple might also
contain images, which, though highly esteemed as ornaments
and held sacred, were not worshipped as idols. From the
roof depended a long piece of white bark-cloth; it was
carried down the angle so as to hang before the corner-post
and lie on the floor. This cloth formed the path down
which the god was believed to pass in order to enter and
inspire his priest. It marked the holy place which few but
he dared to approach. However, the temples were by no
means dedicated exclusively to the use of religion. Each
of them served also as a council-chamber and town-hall;
there the chiefs lounged for hours together; there strangers
were entertained; and there the head persons of the village
might even sleep.<a id="footnotetag706" name="footnotetag706"></a><a href="#footnote706"><sup>706</sup></a> In some parts of Viti Levu the dead
were sometimes buried in the temples, "that the wind might
not disturb, nor the rain fall upon them," and in order that
the living might have the satisfaction of lying near their
departed friends. A child of high rank having died under
the charge of the queen of Somosomo, the little body was
placed in a box and hung from the tie-beam of the principal
temple. For some months afterwards the daintiest food
was brought daily to the dead child, the bearers approaching
with the utmost respect and clapping their hands
when the ghost was thought to have finished his meal
just as a chiefs retainers used to do when he had done
eating.<a id="footnotetag707" name="footnotetag707"></a><a href="#footnote707"><sup>707</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Worship at the temples.</p>

<p>Temples were often unoccupied for months and allowed
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page443" id="page443"></a>[pg 443]</span>
to fall into ruins, until the chief had some request to make
to the god, when the necessary repairs were first carried out.
No regular worship was maintained, no habitual reverence
was displayed at the shrines. The principle of fear, we are
told, seemed to be the only motive of religious observances,
and it was artfully fomented by the priests, through whom
alone the people had access to the gods when they desired to
supplicate the favour of the divine beings. The prayers were
naturally accompanied by offerings, which in matters of
importance comprised large quantities of food, together with
whales' teeth; in lesser affairs a tooth, club, mat, or spear
sufficed. Of the food brought by the worshippers part was
dedicated to the god, but as usual he only ate the soul of it,
the substance being consumed by the priest and old men;
the remainder furnished a feast of which all might partake.<a id="footnotetag708" name="footnotetag708"></a><a href="#footnote708"><sup>708</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">The priests.</p>

<p>The office of priest (<i>mbete</i>, <i>bete</i>) was usually hereditary,
but when a priest died without male heirs a cunning fellow,
ambitious of enjoying the sacred character and of living in
idleness, would sometimes simulate the convulsive frenzy,
which passed for a symptom of inspiration, and if he
succeeded in the imposture would be inducted into the
vacant benefice. Every chief had his priest, with whom he
usually lived on a very good footing, the two playing into
each other's hands and working the oracle for their mutual
benefit. The people were grossly superstitious, and there
were few of their affairs in which the priest had not a hand.
His influence over them was great. In his own district he
passed for the representative of the deity; indeed, according
to an early missionary, the natives seldom distinguished
the idea of the god from that of his minister, who was
viewed by them with a reverence that almost amounted to
deification.<a id="footnotetag709" name="footnotetag709"></a><a href="#footnote709"><sup>709</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Oracles given by the priest under the inspiration of the god.
Paroxysm of inspiration.</p>

<p>The principal duty of the priest was to reveal to men
the will of the god, and this he always did through the
direct inspiration of the deity. The revelation was usually
made in response to an enquiry or a prayer; the supplicant
asked, it might be, for a good crop of yams or taro, for
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page444" id="page444"></a>[pg 444]</span>
showers of rain, for protection in battle, for a safe voyage,
or for a storm to drive canoes ashore, so that the supplicant
might rob, murder, and eat the castaways. To lend force
to one or other of these pious prayers the worshipper
brought a whale's tooth to the temple and presented it to
the priest. The man of god might have had word of his
coming and time to throw himself into an appropriate
attitude. He might, for example, be seen lying on the floor
near the sacred corner, plunged in a profound meditation.
On the entrance of the enquirer the priest would rouse himself
so far as to get up and then seat himself with his back
to the white cloth, down which the deity was expected
to slide into the medium's body. Having received the
whale's tooth he would abstract his mind from all worldly
matters and contemplate the tooth for some time with rapt
attention. Presently he began to tremble, his limbs twitched,
his features were distorted. These symptoms, the visible
manifestation of the entrance of the spirit into him, gradually
increased in violence till his whole frame was convulsed and
shook as with a strong fit of ague: his veins swelled: the
circulation of the blood was quickened. The man was now
possessed and inspired by the god: his own human
personality was for a time in abeyance: all that he said
and did in the paroxysm passed for the words and acts of
the indwelling deity. Shrill cries of "<i>Koi au! Koi au!</i>"
"It is I! It is I!" filled the air, proclaiming the actual
presence of the powerful spirit in the vessel of flesh and
blood. In giving the oracular response the priest's eyes
protruded from their sockets and rolled as in a frenzy: his
voice rose into a squeak: his face was pallid, his lips livid,
his breathing depressed, his whole appearance that of a
furious madman. At last sweat burst from every pore, tears
gushed from his eyes: the strain on the organism was
visibly relieved; and the symptoms gradually abated.
Then he would look round with a vacant stare: the god
within him would cry, "I depart!" and the man would
announce the departure of the spirit by throwing himself on
his mat or striking the ground with his club, while blasts on
a shell-trumpet conveyed to those at a distance the tidings
that the deity had withdrawn from mortal sight into the
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page445" id="page445"></a>[pg 445]</span>
world invisible.<a id="footnotetag710" name="footnotetag710"></a><a href="#footnote710"><sup>710</sup></a> "I have seen," says Mr. Lorimer Fison,
"this possession, and a horrible sight it is. In one case, after
the fit was over, for some time the man's muscles and nerves
twitched and quivered in an extraordinary way. He was
naked except for his breech-clout, and on his naked breast
little snakes seemed to be wriggling for a moment or two
beneath his skin, disappearing and then suddenly reappearing
in another part of his chest. When the <i>mbete</i> (which
we may translate 'priest' for want of a better word) is
seized by the possession, the god within him calls out his
own name in a stridulous tone, 'It is I! Katouviere!' or
some other name. At the next possession some other
ancestor may declare himself."<a id="footnotetag711" name="footnotetag711"></a><a href="#footnote711"><sup>711</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Specimens of the oracular utterances of Fijian gods.</p>

<p>From this last description of an eye-witness we learn
that the spirit which possessed a priest and spoke
through him was often believed to be that of a dead
ancestor. Some of the inspired utterances of these
prophets have been recorded. Here are specimens of Fijian
inspiration. Speaking in the name of the great god Ndengei,
who was worshipped in the form of a serpent, the priest
said: "Great Fiji is my small club. Muaimbila is the
head; Kamba is the handle. If I step on Muaimbila, I
shall sink it into the sea, whilst Kamba shall rise to the sky.
If I step on Kamba, it will be lost in the sea, whilst
Muaimbila would rise into the skies. Yes, Viti Levu is my
small war-club. I can turn it as I please. I can turn it
upside down." Again, speaking by the mouth of a priest,
the god Tanggirianima once made the following observations:
"I and Kumbunavannua only are gods. I preside over
wars, and do as I please with sickness. But it is difficult
for me to come here, as the foreign god fills the place. If I
attempt to descend by that pillar, I find it pre-occupied by
the foreign god. If I try another pillar, I find it the
same. However, we two are fighting the foreign god; and
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page446" id="page446"></a>[pg 446]</span>
if we are victorious, we will save the woman. I <i>will</i> save
the woman. She will eat food to-day. Had I been sent
for yesterday, she would have eaten then," and so on.
The woman, about whose case the deity was consulted and
whom he announced his fixed intention of saving, died a
few hours afterwards.<a id="footnotetag712" name="footnotetag712"></a><a href="#footnote712"><sup>712</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Human sacrifices in Fiji.</p>

<p>Ferocious and inveterate cannibals themselves, the Fijians
naturally assumed that their gods were so too; hence human
flesh was a common offering, indeed the most valued of all.<a id="footnotetag713" name="footnotetag713"></a><a href="#footnote713"><sup>713</sup></a>
Formal human sacrifices were frequent. The victims were
usually taken from a distant tribe, and when war and
violence failed to supply the demand, recourse was sometimes
had to negotiation. However obtained, the victims destined
for sacrifice were often kept for a time and fattened to make
them better eating. Then, tightly bound in a sitting posture,
they were placed on hot stones in one of the usual ovens,
and being covered over with leaves and earth were roasted
alive, while the spectators roared with laughter at the
writhings and contortions of the victims in their agony.
When their struggles ceased and the bodies were judged to
be done to a nicety, they were raked out of the oven, their
faces painted black, and so carried to the temple, where they
were presented to the gods, only, however, to be afterwards
removed, cut up, and devoured by the people.<a id="footnotetag714" name="footnotetag714"></a><a href="#footnote714"><sup>714</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Human sacrifices offered when a king's house was built or a
great new canoe launched.</p>

<p>However, roasting alive in ovens was not the only way
in which men and women were made away with in the service
of religion. When a king's house was built, men were buried
alive in the holes dug to receive the posts: they were compelled
to clasp the posts in their arms, and then the earth
was shovelled over them and rammed down. And when a
large new canoe was launched, it was hauled down to the
sea over the bodies of living men, who were pinioned and
laid out at intervals on the beach to serve as rollers on which
the great vessel glided smoothly into the water, leaving a row
of mangled corpses behind. The theory of both these modes
of sacrifice was explained by the Fijians to an Englishman
who witnessed them. I will quote their explanation in his
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page447" id="page447"></a>[pg 447]</span>
words. "They said in answer to the questions I put respecting
the people being buried alive with the posts, that a
house or palace of a king was just like a king's canoe: if the
canoe was not hauled over men, as rollers, she would not be
expected to float long, and in like manner the palace could
not stand long if people were not to sit down and continually
hold the posts up. But I said, 'How could they hold the
posts up after they were dead?' They said, if they sacrificed
their lives endeavouring to hold the posts in their right
position to their superior's <i>turanga kai na kalou</i> (chiefs and
god), that the virtue of the sacrifice would instigate the gods
to uphold the house after they were dead, and that they were
honoured by being considered adequate to such a noble task."<a id="footnotetag715" name="footnotetag715"></a><a href="#footnote715"><sup>715</sup></a>
Apparently the Fijians imagined that the souls of the dead
men would somehow strengthen the souls of the houses and
canoes and so prolong the lives of these useful objects; for
it is to be remembered that according to Fijian theology
houses and canoes as well as men and women were provided
with immortal souls.</p>

<p class="side">High estimation in which murder was held by the Fijians.</p>

<p>Perhaps the same theory of immortality partially accounts
for the high honour in which the Fijian held the act of
murder and for the admiration which he bestowed on all
murderers. "Shedding of blood," we are told, "to him is no
crime, but a glory. Whoever may be the victim,&mdash;whether
noble or vulgar, old or young, man, woman, or child,&mdash;whether
slain in war, or butchered by treachery,&mdash;to be somehow an
acknowledged murderer is the object of the Fijian's restless
ambition."<a id="footnotetag716" name="footnotetag716"></a><a href="#footnote716"><sup>716</sup></a> It was customary throughout Fiji to give
honorary names to such as had clubbed to death a human
being, of any age or either sex, during a war. The new
epithet was given with the complimentary prefix <i>Koroi</i>.
Mr. Williams once asked a man why he was called <i>Koroi</i>.
"Because," he replied, "I, with several other men, found some
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page448" id="page448"></a>[pg 448]</span>
women and children in a cave, drew them out and clubbed
them, and then was consecrated."<a id="footnotetag717" name="footnotetag717"></a><a href="#footnote717"><sup>717</sup></a> Mr. Fison learned from
another stout young warrior that he had earned the honourable
distinction of <i>Koroi</i> by lying in wait among the mangrove
bushes at the waterside and killing a miserable old woman of
a hostile tribe, as she crept along the mudflat seeking for
shellfish. The man would have been equally honoured, adds
Mr. Fison, if his victim had been a child. The hero of such
an exploit, for two or three days after killing his man or
woman, was allowed to besmear his face and bust with a
mixture of lampblack and oil which differed from the common
black war-paint; decorated with this badge of honour he
strutted proudly through the town, the cynosure of all eyes,
an object of envy to his fellows and of tender interest to the
girls. The old men shouted approval after him, the women
would <i>lulilu</i> admiringly as he passed by, and the boys looked
up to him as a superior being whose noble deeds they
thirsted to emulate. Higher titles of honour still were
bestowed on such as had slain their ten, or twenty, or thirty;
and Mr. Fison tells us of a chief whose admiring countrymen
had to compound all these titles into one in order to set
forth his superlative claims to glory. A man who had
never killed anybody was of very little account in this life,
and he received the penalty due to his sin in the life hereafter.
For in the spirit land the ghost of such a poor-spirited
wretch was sentenced to what the Fijians regarded as the
most degrading of all punishments, to beat a heap of muck
with his bloodless club.<a id="footnotetag718" name="footnotetag718"></a><a href="#footnote718"><sup>718</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Ceremony of consecrating a manslayer. The temporary
restrictions laid on a manslayer were probably dictated by a fear of his
victim's ghost.</p>

<p>The ceremony of consecrating a manslayer was elaborate.
He was anointed with red oil from the hair of his head
to the soles of his feet; and when he had been thus incarnadined
he exchanged clubs with the spectators, who
believed that their weapons acquired a mysterious virtue by
passing through his holy hands. Afterwards the anointed
one, attended by the king and elders, solemnly stalked down
to the sea and wetted the soles of his feet in the water.
Then the whole company returned to the town, while the
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page449" id="page449"></a>[pg 449]</span>
shell-trumpets sounded and the men raised a peculiar hoot.
Custom required that a hut should be built in which the
anointed man and his companions must pass the next three
nights, during which the hero might not lie down, but had
to sleep as he sat; all that time he might not change his
bark-cloth garment, nor wash the red paint away from his
body, nor enter a house in which there was a woman.<a id="footnotetag719" name="footnotetag719"></a><a href="#footnote719"><sup>719</sup></a>
The reason for observing these curious restrictions is not
mentioned, but in the light of similar practices, some of
which have been noticed in these lectures,<a id="footnotetag720" name="footnotetag720"></a><a href="#footnote720"><sup>720</sup></a> we may conjecture
that they were dictated by a fear of the victim's
ghost, who among savages generally haunts his slayer and
will do him a mischief, if he gets a chance. As it is especially
in dreams that the naturally incensed spirit finds his
opportunity, we can perhaps understand why the slayer
might not lie down for the first three nights after the
slaughter; the wrath of the ghost would then be at its
hottest, and if he spied his murderer stretched in slumber on
the ground, the temptation to take an unfair advantage of
him might have been too strong to be resisted. But when
his anger had had time to cool down or he had departed for
his long home, as ghosts generally do after a reasonable
time, the precautions taken to baffle his vengeance might
be safely relaxed. Perhaps, as I have already hinted, the
reverence which the Fijians felt for any man who had taken
a human life, or at all events the life of an enemy, may have
partly sprung from a belief that the slayer increased his
own strength and valour either by subjugating the ghost of
his victim and employing it as his henchman, or perhaps
rather by simply absorbing in some occult fashion the vital
energy of the slain. This view is confirmed by the permission
given to the killer to assume the name of the killed, whenever
his victim was a man of distinguished rank;<a id="footnotetag721" name="footnotetag721"></a><a href="#footnote721"><sup>721</sup></a> for by taking
the name he, according to an opinion common among savages,
assumed the personality of his namesake.</p>

<span class="pagenum"><a name="page450" id="page450"></a>[pg 450]</span>

<p class="side">Other funeral customs based on a fear of the ghost.</p>

<p>The same fear of the ghost of the recently departed
which manifested itself, if my interpretation of the customs
is right, in the treatment of manslayers, seems to have
imprinted itself, though in a more attenuated form, on some
of the practices observed by Fijian mourners after a natural,
not a violent, death.</p>

<p class="side">Persons who have handled a corpse forbidden to touch food.
Seclusion of grave-diggers.</p>

<p>Thus all the persons who had handled a corpse were
forbidden to touch anything for some time afterwards; in
particular they were strictly debarred from touching their
food with their hands; their victuals were brought to them
by others, and they were fed like infants by attendants or
obliged to pick up their food with their mouths from the
ground. The time during which this burdensome restriction
lasted was different according to the rank of the deceased:
in the case of great chiefs it lasted from two to ten months;
in the case of a petty chief it did not exceed one month;
and in the case of a common person a taboo of not more
than four days sufficed. When a chief's principal wife did
not follow him to the other world by being strangled or
buried alive, she might not touch her own food with her
hands for three months. When the mourners grew tired of
being fed like infants or feeding themselves like dogs, they
sent word to the head chief and he let them know that he
would remove the taboo whenever they pleased. Accordingly
they sent him presents of pigs and other provisions, which
he shared among the people. Then the tabooed persons
went into a stream and washed themselves; after that they
caught some animal, such as a pig or a turtle, and wiped
their hands on it, and the animal thereupon became sacred
to the chief. Thus the taboo was removed, and the men
were free once more to work, to feed themselves, and to live
with their wives. Lazy and idle fellows willingly undertook
the duty of waiting on the dead, as it relieved them for some
time from the painful necessity of earning their own bread.<a id="footnotetag722" name="footnotetag722"></a><a href="#footnote722"><sup>722</sup></a>
The reason why such persons might not touch food with
their hands was probably a fear of the ghost or at all events
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page451" id="page451"></a>[pg 451]</span>
of the infection of death; the ghost or the infection might
be clinging to their hands and might so be transferred from
them to their food with fatal effects. In Great Fiji not every
one might dig a chief's grave. The office was hereditary in
a certain clan. After the funeral the grave-digger was shut
up in a house and painted black from head to foot. When
he had to make a short excursion, he covered himself with
a large mantle of painted native cloth and was supposed to
be invisible. His food was brought to the house after dark
by silent bearers, who placed it just within the doorway.
His seclusion might last for a long time;<a id="footnotetag723" name="footnotetag723"></a><a href="#footnote723"><sup>723</sup></a> it was probably
intended to screen him from the ghost.</p>

<p class="side">Hair cropped and finger-joints cut off in mourning.</p>

<p>The usual outward sign of mourning was to crop the
hair or beard, or very rarely both. Some people merely
made bald the crown of the head. Indeed the Fijians were
too vain of their hair to part with it lightly, and to conceal
the loss which custom demanded of them on these occasions
they used to wear wigs, some of which were very skilfully
made. The practice of cutting off finger-joints in mourning
has already been mentioned; one early authority affirms and
another denies that joints of the little toes were similarly
amputated by the living as a mark of sorrow for the dead.
So common was the practice of lopping off the little fingers
in mourning that till recently few of the older natives could
be found who had their hands intact; most of them indeed
had lost the little fingers of both hands. There was a Fijian
saying that the fourth finger "cried itself hoarse in vain for
its absent mate" (<i>droga-droga-wale</i>). The mutilation was
usually confined to the relations of the deceased, unless he
happened to be one of the highest chiefs. However, the
severed joints were often sent by poor people to wealthy
families in mourning, who never failed to reward the senders
for so delicate a mark of sympathy. Female mourners
burned their skin into blisters by applying lighted rolls of
bark-cloth to various parts of their bodies; the brands so
produced might be seen on their arms, shoulders, necks, and
breasts.<a id="footnotetag724" name="footnotetag724"></a><a href="#footnote724"><sup>724</sup></a> During the mourning for a king people fasted till
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page452" id="page452"></a>[pg 452]</span>
evening for ten or twenty days; the coast for miles was
tabooed and no one might fish there; the nuts also were
made sacred. Some people in token of grief for a bereavement
would abstain from fish, fruit, or other pleasant food
for months together; others would dress in leaves instead of
in cloth.<a id="footnotetag725" name="footnotetag725"></a><a href="#footnote725"><sup>725</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Men whipped by women in time of mourning for a chief.</p>

<p>Though the motive for these observances is not
mentioned, we may suppose that they were intended to
soothe and please the ghost by testifying to the sorrow felt
by the survivors at his decease. It is more doubtful whether
the same explanation would apply to another custom which
the Fijians used to observe in mourning. During ten days
after a death, while the soul of a deceased chief was thought
to be still lingering in or near his body, all the women of
the town provided themselves with long whips, knotted with
shells, and applied them with great vigour to the bodies of
the men, raising weals and inflicting bloody wounds, while
the men retorted by flirting pellets of clay from splinters of
bamboo.<a id="footnotetag726" name="footnotetag726"></a><a href="#footnote726"><sup>726</sup></a> According to Mr. Williams, this ceremony was
performed on the tenth day or earlier, and he adds: "I
have seen grave personages, not accustomed to move quickly,
flying with all possible speed before a company of such
women. Sometimes the men retaliate by bespattering their
assailants with mud; but they use no violence, as it seems
to be a day on which they are bound to succumb."<a id="footnotetag727" name="footnotetag727"></a><a href="#footnote727"><sup>727</sup></a> As
the soul of the dead was believed to quit his body and
depart to his destined abode on the tenth day after death,<a id="footnotetag728" name="footnotetag728"></a><a href="#footnote728"><sup>728</sup></a> the
scourging of the men by the women was probably supposed
in some way to speed the parting guest on his long journey.</p>

<p class="side">The dead taken out of the house by a special opening made in
a wall. Examples of the custom among Aryan peoples.</p>

<p>When a certain king of Fiji died, the side of the house
was broken down to allow the body to be carried out,
though there were doorways wide enough for the purpose
close at hand. The missionary who records the fact could
not learn the reason of it.<a id="footnotetag729" name="footnotetag729"></a><a href="#footnote729"><sup>729</sup></a> The custom of taking the dead
out of the house by a special opening, which is afterwards
closed up, has not been confined to Fiji; on the contrary it
has been practised by a multitude of peoples, savage, barbarous,
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page453" id="page453"></a>[pg 453]</span>
and civilised, in many parts of the world. For
example, it was an old Norse rule that a corpse might not
be carried out of the house by the door which was used
by the living; hence a hole was made in the wall at the
back of the dead man's head and he was taken out through
it backwards, or a hole was dug in the ground under the south
wall and the body was drawn out through it.<a id="footnotetag730" name="footnotetag730"></a><a href="#footnote730"><sup>730</sup></a> The custom
may have been at one time common to all the Aryan or
Indo-european peoples, for it is mentioned in other of their
ancient records and has been observed by widely separated
branches of that great family down to modern times. Thus,
the Zend-Avesta prescribes that, when a death has occurred,
a breach shall be made in the wall and the corpse carried
out through it by two men, who have first stripped off their
clothes.<a id="footnotetag731" name="footnotetag731"></a><a href="#footnote731"><sup>731</sup></a> In Russia "the corpse was often carried out of the
house through a window, or through a hole made for the
purpose, and the custom is still kept up in many parts."<a id="footnotetag732" name="footnotetag732"></a><a href="#footnote732"><sup>732</sup></a>
Speaking of the Hindoos a French traveller of the eighteenth
century says that "instead of carrying the corpse out by the
door they make an opening in the wall by which they pass
it out in a seated posture, and the hole is closed up after
the ceremony."<a id="footnotetag733" name="footnotetag733"></a><a href="#footnote733"><sup>733</sup></a> Among various Hindoo castes it is still
customary, when a death has occurred on an inauspicious
day, to remove the corpse from the house not through the
door, but through a temporary hole made in the wall.<a id="footnotetag734" name="footnotetag734"></a><a href="#footnote734"><sup>734</sup></a> Old
German law required that the corpses of criminals and
suicides should be carried out through a hole under the
threshold.<a id="footnotetag735" name="footnotetag735"></a><a href="#footnote735"><sup>735</sup></a> In the Highlands of Scotland the bodies of
suicides were not taken out of the house for burial by the
doors, but through an opening made between the wall and
the thatch.<a id="footnotetag736" name="footnotetag736"></a><a href="#footnote736"><sup>736</sup></a></p>

<span class="pagenum"><a name="page454" id="page454"></a>[pg 454]</span>

<p class="side">Examples of the custom among non-Aryan peoples.</p>

<p>But widespread as such customs have been among
Indo-european peoples, they have been by no means confined
to that branch of the human race. It was an
ancient Chinese practice to knock down part of the wall of
a house for the purpose of carrying out a corpse.<a id="footnotetag737" name="footnotetag737"></a><a href="#footnote737"><sup>737</sup></a> Some of
the Canadian Indians would never take a corpse out of the
hut by the ordinary door, but always lifted a piece of the
bark wall near which the dead man lay and then drew him
through the opening.<a id="footnotetag738" name="footnotetag738"></a><a href="#footnote738"><sup>738</sup></a> Among the Esquimaux of Bering
Strait a corpse is usually raised through the smoke-hole in
the roof, but is never taken out by the doorway. Should
the smoke-hole be too small, an opening is made in the rear
of the house and then closed again.<a id="footnotetag739" name="footnotetag739"></a><a href="#footnote739"><sup>739</sup></a> When a Greenlander
dies, "they do not carry out the corpse through the entry of
the house, but lift it through the window, or if he dies in
a tent, they unfasten one of the skins behind, and convey it
out that way. A woman behind waves a lighted chip backward
and forward, and says: 'There is nothing more to be
had here.'"<a id="footnotetag740" name="footnotetag740"></a><a href="#footnote740"><sup>740</sup></a> Similarly the Hottentots, Bechuanas, Basutos,
Marotse, Barongo, and many other tribes of South and
West Africa never carry a corpse out by the door of the hut
but always by a special opening made in the wall.<a id="footnotetag741" name="footnotetag741"></a><a href="#footnote741"><sup>741</sup></a> A similar
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page455" id="page455"></a>[pg 455]</span>
custom is observed by the maritime Gajos of Sumatra<a id="footnotetag742" name="footnotetag742"></a><a href="#footnote742"><sup>742</sup></a> and
by some of the Indian tribes of North-west America, such as
the Tlingit and the Haida.<a id="footnotetag743" name="footnotetag743"></a><a href="#footnote743"><sup>743</sup></a> Among the Lepchis of Sikhim,
whose houses are raised on piles, the dead are taken out by
a hole made in the floor.<a id="footnotetag744" name="footnotetag744"></a><a href="#footnote744"><sup>744</sup></a> Dwellers in tents who practise
this custom remove a corpse from the tent, not by the door,
but through an opening made by lifting up an edge of the
tent-cover: this is done by European gypsies<a id="footnotetag745" name="footnotetag745"></a><a href="#footnote745"><sup>745</sup></a> and by the
Koryak of north-eastern Asia.<a id="footnotetag746" name="footnotetag746"></a><a href="#footnote746"><sup>746</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">The motive of the custom is a desire to prevent the ghost
from returning to the house.</p>

<p>In all such customs the original motive probably was
a fear of the ghost and a wish to exclude him from the
house, lest he should return and carry off the survivors with
him to the spirit land. Ghosts are commonly credited
with a low degree of intelligence, and it appears to be supposed
that they can only find their way back to a house
by the aperture through which their bodies were carried
out. Hence people made a practice of taking a corpse
out not by the door, but through an opening specially
made for the purpose, which was afterwards blocked
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page456" id="page456"></a>[pg 456]</span>
up, so that when the ghost returned from the grave and
attempted to enter the house, he found the orifice closed and
was obliged to turn away disappointed. That this was the
train of reasoning actually followed by some peoples may be
gathered from the explanations which they themselves give
of the custom. Thus among the Tuski of Alaska "those
who die a natural death are carried out through a hole cut in
the back of the hut or <i>yar&aacute;ng</i>. This is immediately closed
up, that the spirit of the dead man may not find his
way back."<a id="footnotetag747" name="footnotetag747"></a><a href="#footnote747"><sup>747</sup></a> Among the Esquimaux of Hudson Bay "the
nearest relatives on approach of death remove the invalid
to the outside of the house, for if he should die within he
must not be carried out of the door but through a hole cut in the
side wall, and it must then be carefully closed to prevent the
spirit of the person from returning."<a id="footnotetag748" name="footnotetag748"></a><a href="#footnote748"><sup>748</sup></a> Again, "when a Siamese
is dead, his relations deposit the body in a coffin well covered.
They do not pass it through the door but let it down into
the street by an opening which they make in the wall. They
also carry it thrice round the house, running at the top
of their speed. They believe that if they did not take this
precaution, the dead man would remember the way by
which he had passed, and that he would return by night
to do some ill turn to his family."<a id="footnotetag749" name="footnotetag749"></a><a href="#footnote749"><sup>749</sup></a> In Travancore the
body of a dead rajah "is taken out of the palace through
a breach in the wall, made for the purpose, to avoid pollution
of the gate, and afterwards built up again so that the
departed spirit may not return through the gate to trouble
the survivors."<a id="footnotetag750" name="footnotetag750"></a><a href="#footnote750"><sup>750</sup></a> Among the Kayans of Borneo, whose
dwellings are raised on piles above the ground, the coffin is
conveyed out of the house by lowering it with rattans either
through the floor, planks being taken up for the purpose,
or under the eaves at the side of the gallery. "In
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page457" id="page457"></a>[pg 457]</span>
this way they avoid carrying it down the house-ladder;
and it seems to be felt that this precaution renders it
more difficult for the ghost to find its way back to
the house."<a id="footnotetag751" name="footnotetag751"></a><a href="#footnote751"><sup>751</sup></a> Among the Cheremiss of Russia, "old custom
required that the corpse should not be carried out by the
door but through a breach in the north wall, where there
is usually a sash-window. But the custom has long been
obsolete, even among the heathen, and only very old people
speak of it. They explain it as follows: to carry it out by
the door would be to shew the <i>Asyr&egrave;n</i> (the dead man) the
right way into the house, whereas a breach in the wooden
wall is immediately closed by replacing the beams in position,
and thus the <i>Asyr&egrave;n</i> would in vain seek for an entrance."<a id="footnotetag752" name="footnotetag752"></a><a href="#footnote752"><sup>752</sup></a>
The Samoyeds never carry a corpse out of the hut by the
door, but lift up a piece of the reindeer-skin covering and
draw the body out, head foremost, through the opening.
They think that if they were to carry a corpse out by the
door, the ghost would soon return and fetch away other
members of the family.<a id="footnotetag753" name="footnotetag753"></a><a href="#footnote753"><sup>753</sup></a> On the same principle, as soon as
the Indians of Tumupasa, in north-west Bolivia, have carried
a corpse out of the house, "they shift the door to the opposite
side, in order that the deceased may not be able to find
it."<a id="footnotetag754" name="footnotetag754"></a><a href="#footnote754"><sup>754</sup></a> Once more, in Mecklenburg "it is a law regulating
the return of the dead that they are compelled to return by
the same way by which the corpse was removed from the
house. In the villages of Picher, Bresegard, and others the
people used to have movable thresholds at the house-doors,
which, being fitted into the door-posts, could be shoved up.
The corpse was then carried out of the house under the
threshold, and therefore could not return over it."<a id="footnotetag755" name="footnotetag755"></a><a href="#footnote755"><sup>755</sup></a></p>

<span class="pagenum"><a name="page458" id="page458"></a>[pg 458]</span>

<p class="side">Some people only remove in this manner the bodies of persons
whose ghosts are especially feared.</p>

<p>Even without such express testimonies to the meaning
of the custom we may infer from a variety of evidence that
the real motive for practising it is a fear of the ghost and a
wish to prevent his return. For it is to be observed that
some peoples do not carry out all their dead by a special
opening, but that they accord this peculiar mode of removal
only to persons who die under unlucky or disgraceful circumstances,
and whose ghosts accordingly are more than usually
dreaded. Thus we have seen that some modern Hindoo
castes observe the custom only in the case of people who
have died on inauspicious days; and that in Germany and
the Highlands of Scotland this mode of removal was specially
reserved for the bodies of suicides, whose ghosts are exceedingly
feared by many people, as appears from the stringent
precautions taken against them.<a id="footnotetag756" name="footnotetag756"></a><a href="#footnote756"><sup>756</sup></a> Again, among the Kavirondo
of Central Africa, "when a woman dies without having
borne a child, she is carried out of the back of the house. A
hole is made in the wall and the corpse is ignominiously
pushed through the hole and carried some distance to be
buried, as it is considered a curse to die without a child. If
the woman has given birth to a child, then her corpse is
carried out through the front door and buried in the verandah
of the house."<a id="footnotetag757" name="footnotetag757"></a><a href="#footnote757"><sup>757</sup></a> In Brittany a stillborn child is removed
from the house, not by the door, but by the window; "for
if by ill-luck it should chance otherwise, the mothers who
should pass through that fatal door would bear nothing but
stillborn infants."<a id="footnotetag758" name="footnotetag758"></a><a href="#footnote758"><sup>758</sup></a> In Perche, another province of France,
the same rule is observed with regard to stillborn children,
though the reason for it is not alleged.<a id="footnotetag759" name="footnotetag759"></a><a href="#footnote759"><sup>759</sup></a> But of all ghosts
none perhaps inspire such deep and universal terror as the
ghosts of women who have died in childbed, and extraordinary
measures are accordingly taken to disable these dangerous
spirits from returning and doing a mischief to the living.<a id="footnotetag760" name="footnotetag760"></a><a href="#footnote760"><sup>760</sup></a>
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page459" id="page459"></a>[pg 459]</span>
Amongst the precautions adopted to keep them at bay is
the custom of carrying their corpses out of the house by a
special opening, which is afterwards blocked up. Thus in
Laos, a province of Siam, "the bodies of women dying in
childbirth, or within a month afterwards, are not even taken
out of the house in the ordinary way by the door, but are
let down through the floor."<a id="footnotetag761" name="footnotetag761"></a><a href="#footnote761"><sup>761</sup></a> The Kachins of Burma stand
in such fear of the ghosts of women dying in childbed that
no sooner has such a death occurred than the husband, the
children, and almost all the people in the house take to
flight lest the woman's ghost should bite them. "The body
of the deceased must be burned as soon as possible in order
to punish her for dying such a death, and also in order
to frighten her ghost (<i>minla</i>). They bandage her eyes with
her own hair and with leaves to prevent her from seeing
anything; they wrap her in a mat, and they carry her out
of the house, not by the ordinary door, but by an opening
made for the purpose in the wall or the floor of the room
where she breathed her last. Then they convey her to a
deep ravine, where no one dares to pass; they lay her
in the midst of a great pyre with all the clothes, jewellery,
and other objects which belonged to her and of which she
made use; and they burn the whole to cinders, to which
they refuse the rites of sepulture. Thus they destroy all the
property of the unfortunate woman, in order that her soul
may not think of coming to fetch it afterwards and to
bite people in the attempt."<a id="footnotetag762" name="footnotetag762"></a><a href="#footnote762"><sup>762</sup></a> Similarly among the Kayans
or Bahaus of Central Borneo "the corpses of women dying
in childbed excite a special horror; no man and no young
woman may touch them; they are not carried out of the house
through the front gallery, but are thrown out of the back
wall of the dwelling, some boards having been removed for
the purpose."<a id="footnotetag763" name="footnotetag763"></a><a href="#footnote763"><sup>763</sup></a> Indeed so great is the alarm felt by the
Kayans at a miscarriage of this sort that when a woman
labours hard in childbed, the news quickly spreads through
the large communal house in which the people dwell; and
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page460" id="page460"></a>[pg 460]</span>
if the attendants begin to fear a fatal issue, the whole
household is thrown into consternation. All the men, from
the chief down to the boys, will flee from the house, or, if it
is night, they will clamber up among the beams of the roof
and there hide in terror; and, if the worst happens, they
remain there until the woman's corpse has been removed
from the house for burial.<a id="footnotetag764" name="footnotetag764"></a><a href="#footnote764"><sup>764</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Sometimes the custom is observed when the original motive for
it is forgotten.</p>

<p>Sometimes, while the custom continues to be practised,
the idea which gave rise to it has either become obscured or
has been incorrectly reported. Thus we are told that when
a death has taken place among the Indians of North-west
America "the body is at once taken out of the house
through an opening in the wall from which the boards have
been removed. It is believed that his ghost would kill
every one if the body were to stay in the house."<a id="footnotetag765" name="footnotetag765"></a><a href="#footnote765"><sup>765</sup></a> Such
a belief, while it would furnish an excellent reason for
hurrying the corpse out of the house as soon as possible,
does not explain why it should be carried out through a
special opening instead of through the door. Again, when a
Queen of Bali died, "the body was drawn out of a large
aperture made in the wall to the right-hand side of the
door, in the absurd opinion of <i>cheating the devil</i>, whom these
islanders believe to lie in wait in the ordinary passage."<a id="footnotetag766" name="footnotetag766"></a><a href="#footnote766"><sup>766</sup></a>
Again, in Mukden, the capital of Manchuria, the corpses of
children "must not be carried out of a door or window, but
through a new or disused opening, in order that the evil
spirit which causes the disease may not enter. The belief is
that the Heavenly Dog which eats the sun at an eclipse
demands the bodies of children, and that if they are denied
to him he will bring certain calamity on the household."<a id="footnotetag767" name="footnotetag767"></a><a href="#footnote767"><sup>767</sup></a>
These explanations of the custom are probably misinterpretations
adopted at a later time when its original meaning was
forgotten. For a custom often outlives the memory of the
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page461" id="page461"></a>[pg 461]</span>
motives which gave it birth. And as royalty is very conservative
of ancient usages, it would be no matter for surprise
if the corpses of kings should continue to be carried
out through special openings long after the bodies of
commoners were allowed to be conveyed in commonplace
fashion through the ordinary door. In point of fact we find
the old custom observed by kings in countries where it
has apparently ceased to be observed by their subjects.
Thus among the Sakalava and Antimerina of Madagascar,
"when a sovereign or a prince of the royal family dies
within the enclosure of the king's palace, the corpse must be
carried out of the palace, not by the door, but by a breach
made for the purpose in the wall; the new sovereign could
not pass through the door that had been polluted by the
passage of a dead body."<a id="footnotetag768" name="footnotetag768"></a><a href="#footnote768"><sup>768</sup></a> Similarly among the Macassars
and Buginese of Southern Celebes there is in the king's
palace a window reaching to the floor through which on his
decease the king's body is carried out.<a id="footnotetag769" name="footnotetag769"></a><a href="#footnote769"><sup>769</sup></a> That such a custom
is only a limitation to kings of a rule which once applied to
everybody becomes all the more probable, when we learn
that in the island of Saleijer, which lies to the south of
Celebes, each house has, besides its ordinary windows, a
large window in the form of a door, through which, and not
through the ordinary entrance, every corpse is regularly
removed at death.<a id="footnotetag770" name="footnotetag770"></a><a href="#footnote770"><sup>770</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Another Fijian funeral custom.</p>

<p>To return from this digression to Fiji, we may conclude
with a fair degree of probability that when the side of a
Fijian king's house was broken down to allow his corpse to
be carried out, though there were doors at hand wide enough
for the purpose, the original intention was to prevent the
return of his ghost, who might have proved a very unwelcome
intruder to his successor on the throne. But I cannot offer
any explanation of another Fijian funeral custom. You may
remember that in Fiji it was customary after the death of a
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page462" id="page462"></a>[pg 462]</span>
chief to circumcise such lads as had reached a suitable age.<a id="footnotetag771" name="footnotetag771"></a><a href="#footnote771"><sup>771</sup></a>
Well, on the fifth day after a chief's death a hole used to
be dug under the floor of a temple and one of the newly
circumcised lads was secreted in it. Then his companions
fastened the doors of the temple securely and ran away. When
the lad hidden in the hole blew on a shell-trumpet, the friends
of the deceased chief surrounded the temple and thrust their
spears at him through the fence.<a id="footnotetag772" name="footnotetag772"></a><a href="#footnote772"><sup>772</sup></a> What the exact significance
of this curious rite may have been, I cannot even conjecture;
but we may assume that it had something to do with the
state of the late chief's soul, which was probably supposed to
be lingering in the neighbourhood.</p>

<p class="side">Fijian notions concerning the other world and the way
thither. The River of the Souls.</p>

<p>It remains to say a little as to the notions which the
Fijians entertained of the other world and the way thither.
After death the souls of the departed were believed to set
out for Bulu or Bulotu, there to dwell with the great serpent-shaped
god Ndengei. His abode seems to have been generally
placed in the Nakauvandra mountains, towards the western
end of Viti Levu, the largest of the Fijian Islands. But on
this subject the ideas of the people were, as might be expected,
both vague and inconsistent. Each tribe filled in the details
of the mythical land and the mythical journey to suit its own
geographical position. The souls had generally to cross
water, either the sea or a river, and they were put across it
by a ghostly ferryman, who treated the passengers with scant
courtesy.<a id="footnotetag773" name="footnotetag773"></a><a href="#footnote773"><sup>773</sup></a> According to some people, the River of the Souls
(<i>Waini-yalo</i>) is what mortals now call the Ndravo River. When
the ghosts arrived on the bank, they hailed the ferryman and
he paddled his canoe over to receive them. But before he
would take them on board they had to state whether they
proposed to ship as steerage or as cabin passengers, and he
gave them their berths accordingly; for there was no mixing
up of the classes in the ferry-boat; the ghosts of chiefs kept
strictly to themselves at one end of the canoe, and the
ghosts of commoners huddled together at the other end.<a id="footnotetag774" name="footnotetag774"></a><a href="#footnote774"><sup>774</sup></a>
The natives of Kandavu, in Southern Fiji, say that on clear
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page463" id="page463"></a>[pg 463]</span>
days they often see Bulotu, the spirit land, lying away across
the sea with the sun shining sweetly on it; but they have
long ago given up all hope of making their way to that
happy land.<a id="footnotetag775" name="footnotetag775"></a><a href="#footnote775"><sup>775</sup></a> They seem to say with the Demon Lover,</p>

<div class="poem">  <div class="stanza">
<p>"O yonder are the hills of heaven</p>
<p class="i2">Where you will never win."</p>
  </div>  </div>

<p class="side">The place of embarcation for the ghosts.</p>

<p>Though every island and almost every town had its own
portal through which the spirits passed on their long journey
to the far country, yet there was one called Nai Thombothombo,
which appears to have been more popular and
frequented than any of the others as a place of embarcation
for ghosts. It is at the northern point of Mbua Bay, and
the ghosts shew their good taste in choosing it as their port
to sail from, for really it is a beautiful spot. The foreland
juts out between two bays. A shelving beach slopes up to
precipitous cliffs, their rocky face mantled with a thick green
veil of creepers. Further inland the shade of tall forest trees
and the softened gloom cast by crags and rocks lend to the
scene an air of solemnity and hallowed repose well fitted to
impress the susceptible native mind with an awful sense of
the invisible beings that haunt these sacred groves. Natives
have been known to come on pilgrimage to the spot expecting
to meet ghosts and gods face to face.<a id="footnotetag776" name="footnotetag776"></a><a href="#footnote776"><sup>776</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">The ghost and the pandanus tree.</p>

<p>Many are the perils and dangers that beset the Path of
the Souls (<i>Sala Ni Yalo</i>). Of these one of the most celebrated
is a certain pandanus tree, at which every ghost must
throw the ghost of the real whale's tooth which was placed
for the purpose in his hand at burial. If he hits the tree, it
is well for him; for it shews that his friends at home are
strangling his wives, and accordingly he sits down contentedly
to wait for the ghosts of his helpmeets, who will soon come
hurrying to him. But if he makes a bad shot and misses the
tree, the poor ghost is very disconsolate, for he knows that
his wives are not being strangled, and who then will cook for
him in the spirit land? It is a bitter thought, and he reflects
with sorrow and anger on the ingratitude of men and especially
of women. His reflections, as reported by the best authority,
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page464" id="page464"></a>[pg 464]</span>
run thus: "How is this? For a long time I planted food
for my wife, and it was also of great use to her friends: why
then is she not allowed to follow me? Do my friends love
me no better than this, after so many years of toil? Will no
one, in love to me, strangle my wife?"<a id="footnotetag777" name="footnotetag777"></a><a href="#footnote777"><sup>777</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Hard fate of unmarried ghosts.</p>

<p>But if the lot of a married ghost, whose wives have not
been murdered, is hard, it is nevertheless felicity itself compared
to the fate of bachelor ghosts. In the first place there
is a terrible being called the Great Woman, who lurks
in a shady defile, ready to pounce out on him; and if he
escapes her clutches it is only to fall in with a much worse
monster, of the name of Nangganangga, from whom there
is, humanly speaking, no escape. This ferocious goblin lays
himself out to catch the souls of bachelors, and so vigilant
and alert is he that not a single unmarried Fijian ghost is
known to have ever reached the mansions of the blest. He
sits beside a big black stone at high-water mark waiting for
his prey. The bachelor ghosts are aware that it would be
useless to attempt to march past him when the tide is in; so
they wait till it is low water and then try to sneak past him
on the wet sand left by the retiring billows. Vain hope!
Nangganangga, sitting by the stone, only smiles grimly and
asks, with withering sarcasm, whether they imagine that the
tide will never flow again? It does so only too soon for the
poor ghosts, driving them with every breaking wave nearer
and nearer to their implacable enemy, till the water laps on
the fatal stone, and then he grips the shivering souls and
dashes them to pieces on the big black block.<a id="footnotetag778" name="footnotetag778"></a><a href="#footnote778"><sup>778</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">The Killer of Souls.</p>

<p>Again, there is a very terrible giant armed with a great
axe, who lies in wait for all and sundry. He makes no nice
distinction between the married and the unmarried, but strikes
out at all ghosts indiscriminately. Those whom he wounds
dare not present themselves in their damaged state to the
great God Ndengei; so they never reach the happy fields,
but are doomed to roam the rugged mountains disconsolate.
However, many ghosts contrive to slip past him unscathed.
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page465" id="page465"></a>[pg 465]</span>
It is said that after the introduction of fire-arms into the
islands the ghost of a certain chief made very good use of a
musket which had been providentially buried with his body.
When the giant drew near and was about to lunge out with
the axe in his usual style, the ghost discharged the blunderbuss
in his face, and while the giant was fully engaged in
dodging the hail of bullets, the chief rushed past him and
now enjoys celestial happiness.<a id="footnotetag779" name="footnotetag779"></a><a href="#footnote779"><sup>779</sup></a> Some lay the scene of this
encounter a little beyond the town of Nambanaggatai; for it
is to be remembered that many of the places in the Path of
the Souls were identified with real places in the Fijian Islands.
And the name of the giant is Samu-yalo, that is, the Killer
of Souls. He artfully conceals himself in some mangrove
bushes just beyond the town, from which he rushes out in the
nick of time to fell the passing ghosts. Whenever he kills a
ghost, he cooks and eats him and that is the end of the poor
ghost. It is the second death. The highway to the Elysian
fields runs, or used to run, right through the town of Nambanaggatai;
so all the doorways of the houses were placed
opposite each other to allow free and uninterrupted passage
to the invisible travellers. And the inhabitants spoke to each
other in low tones and communicated at a little distance by
signs. The screech of a paroquet in the woods was the signal
of the approach of a ghost or ghosts; the number of screeches
was proportioned to the number of the ghosts,&mdash;one screech,
one ghost, and so on.<a id="footnotetag780" name="footnotetag780"></a><a href="#footnote780"><sup>780</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">A trap for unwary ghosts.</p>

<p>Souls who escape the Killer of Souls pass on till they
come to Naindelinde, one of the highest peaks of the
Kauvandra mountains. Here the path ends abruptly on the
brink of a precipice, the foot of which is washed by a deep
lake. Over the edge of the precipice projects a large
steer-oar, and the handle is held either by the great god
Ndengei himself or, according to the better opinion, by his
deputy. When a ghost comes up and peers ruefully over the
precipice, the deputy accosts him. "Under what circumstances,"
he asks, "do you come to us? How did you conduct
yourself in the other world?" Should the ghost be a
man of rank, he may say, "I am a great chief. I lived as
a chief, and my conduct was that of a chief. I had great
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page466" id="page466"></a>[pg 466]</span>
wealth, many wives, and ruled over a powerful people. I
have destroyed many towns, and slain many in war." "Good,
good," says the deputy, "just sit down on the blade of that
oar, and refresh yourself in the cool breeze." If the ghost is
unwary enough to accept the invitation, he has no sooner
seated himself on the blade of the oar with his legs dangling
over the abyss, than the deputy-deity tilts up the other end
of the oar and precipitates him into the deep water, far far
below. A loud smack is heard as the ghost collides with
the water, there is a splash, a gurgle, a ripple, and all is over.
The ghost has gone to his account in Murimuria, a very
second-rate sort of heaven, if it is nothing worse. But a ghost
who is in favour with the great god Ndengei is warned by
him not to sit down on the blade of the oar but on the
handle. The ghost takes the hint and seats himself firmly on
the safe end of the oar; and when the deputy-deity tries to
heave it up, he cannot, for he has no purchase. So the ghost
remains master of the situation, and after an interval for
refreshment is sent back to earth to be deified.<a id="footnotetag781" name="footnotetag781"></a><a href="#footnote781"><sup>781</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Murimuria, an inferior sort of heaven. The Fijian Elysium.</p>

<p>In Murimuria, which, as I said, is an inferior sort of
heaven, the departed souls by no means lead a life of pure and
unmixed enjoyment. Some of them are punished for the
sins they committed in the flesh. But the Fijian notion of
sin differs widely from ours. Thus we saw that the ghosts
of men who did no murder in their lives were punished for
their negligence by having to pound muck with clubs. Again,
people who had not their ears bored on earth are forced in
Hades to go about for ever bearing on their shoulders one of
the logs of wood on which bark-cloth is beaten out with
mallets, and all who see the sinner bending under the load
jeer at him. Again, women who were not tattooed in their life
are chased by the female ghosts, who scratch and cut and tear
them with sharp shells, giving them no respite; or they scrape
the flesh from their bones and bake it into bread for the gods.
And ghosts who have done anything to displease the gods are
laid flat on their faces in rows and converted into taro beds.
But the few who do find their way into the Fijian Elysium are
blest indeed. There the sky is always cloudless; the groves
are perfumed with delicious scents; the open glades in the
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page467" id="page467"></a>[pg 467]</span>
forest are pleasant; there is abundance of all that heart can
desire. Language fails to describe the ineffable bliss of the
happy land. There the souls of the truly good, who have
murdered many of their fellows on earth and fed on their
roasted bodies, are lapped in joy for ever.<a id="footnotetag782" name="footnotetag782"></a><a href="#footnote782"><sup>782</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Fijian doctrine of transmigration.</p>

<p>Nevertheless the souls of the dead were not universally
believed to depart by the Spirit Path to the other world or
to stay there for ever. To a certain extent the doctrines of
transmigration found favour with the Fijians. Some of them
held that the spirits of the dead wandered about the villages
in various shapes and could make themselves visible or
invisible at pleasure. The places which these vagrant souls
loved to haunt were known to the people, who in passing by
them were wont to make propitiatory offerings of food or
cloth. For that reason, too, they were very loth to go abroad
on a dark night lest they should come bolt upon a ghost.
Further, it was generally believed that the soul of a celebrated
chief might after death enter into some young man of the
tribe and animate him to deeds of valour. Persons so distinguished
were pointed out and regarded as highly favoured;
great respect was paid to them, they enjoyed many personal
privileges, and their opinions were treated with much consideration.<a id="footnotetag783" name="footnotetag783"></a><a href="#footnote783"><sup>783</sup></a></p>

<p class="side">Few souls saved under the old Fijian dispensation.</p>

<p>On the whole, when we survey the many perils which
beset the way to the Fijian heaven, and the many risks
which the souls of the dead ran of dying the second death in
the other world or of being knocked on the head by the
living in this, we shall probably agree with the missionary
Mr. Williams in concluding that under the old Fijian dispensation
there were few indeed that were saved. "Few,
comparatively," he says, "are left to inhabit the regions of
Mbulu, and the immortality even of these is sometimes disputed.
The belief in a future state is universal in Fiji; but
their superstitious notions often border upon transmigration,
and sometimes teach an eventual annihilation."<a id="footnotetag784" name="footnotetag784"></a><a href="#footnote784"><sup>784</sup></a></p>

<hr />

<p class="side">Concluding observations.</p>

<p>Here I must break off my survey of the natural belief in
immortality among mankind. At the outset I had expected
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page468" id="page468"></a>[pg 468]</span>
to carry the survey further, but I have already exceeded the
usual limits of these lectures and I must not trespass further
on your patience. Yet the enquiry which I have opened
seems worthy to be pursued, and if circumstances should
admit of it, I shall hope at some future time to resume the
broken thread of these researches and to follow it a little
further through the labyrinth of human history. Be that as
it may, I will now conclude with a few general observations
suggested by the facts which I have laid before you.</p>

<p class="side">Strength and universality of the natural belief in
immortality among savages. Wars between savage tribes spring in large
measure from their belief in immortality. Economic loss involved in
sacrifices to the dead.</p>

<p>In the first place, then, it is impossible not to be struck
by the strength, and perhaps we may say the universality, of
the natural belief in immortality among the savage races of
mankind. With them a life after death is not a matter of
speculation and conjecture, of hope and fear; it is a practical
certainty which the individual as little dreams of doubting
as he doubts the reality of his conscious existence. He
assumes it without enquiry and acts upon it without hesitation,
as if it were one of the best-ascertained truths within
the limits of human experience. The belief influences his
attitude towards the higher powers, the conduct of his daily
life, and his behaviour towards his fellows; more than that,
it regulates to a great extent the relations of independent
communities to each other. For the state of war, which
normally exists between many, if not most, neighbouring
savage tribes, springs in large measure directly from their
belief in immortality; since one of the commonest motives
for hostility is a desire to appease the angry ghosts of
friends, who are supposed to have perished by the baleful
arts of sorcerers in another tribe, and who, if vengeance is
not inflicted on their real or imaginary murderers, will wreak
their fury on their undutiful fellow-tribesmen. Thus the
belief in immortality has not merely coloured the outlook of
the individual upon the world; it has deeply affected the
social and political relations of humanity in all ages; for
the religious wars and persecutions, which distracted and
devastated Europe for ages, were only the civilised equivalents
of the battles and murders which the fear of ghosts
has instigated amongst almost all races of savages of whom
we possess a record.  Regarded from this point of view,
the faith in a life hereafter has been sown like dragons'
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page469" id="page469"></a>[pg 469]</span>
teeth on the earth and has brought forth crop after crop of
armed men, who have turned their swords against each
other. And when we consider further the gratuitous and
wasteful destruction of property as well as of life which is
involved in sacrifices to the dead, we must admit that with
all its advantages the belief in immortality has entailed
heavy economical losses upon the races&mdash;and they are
practically all the races of the world&mdash;who have indulged in
this expensive luxury. It is not for me to estimate the extent
and gravity of the consequences, moral, social, political, and
economic, which flow directly from the belief in immortality.
I can only point to some of them and commend them to the
serious attention of historians and economists, as well as of
moralists and theologians.</p>

<p class="side">How does the savage belief in immortality bear on the
question of the truth or falsehood of that belief in general? The answer
depends to some extent on the view we take of human nature. The view of
the grandeur and dignity of man.</p>

<p>My second observation concerns, not the practical consequences
of the belief in immortality, but the question of its
truth or falsehood. That, I need hardly say, is an even
more difficult problem than the other, and as I intimated at
the outset of the lectures I find myself wholly incompetent
to solve it.  Accordingly I have confined myself to the
comparatively easy task of describing some of the forms of
the belief and some of the customs to which it has given
rise, without presuming to pass judgment upon them. I
must leave it to others to place my collections of facts in
the scales and to say whether they incline the balance for
or against the truth of this momentous belief, which has
been so potent for good or ill in history. In every enquiry
much depends upon the point of view from which the enquirer
approaches his subject; he will see it in different
proportions and in different lights according to the angle
and the distance from which he regards it. The subject
under discussion in the present case is human nature
itself; and as we all know, men have formed very different
estimates of themselves and their species. On the one
hand, there are those who love to dwell on the grandeur
and dignity of man, and who swell with pride at the
contemplation of the triumphs which his genius has
achieved in the visionary world of imagination as well as
in the realm of nature. Surely, they say, such a glorious
creature was not born for mortality, to be snuffed out
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page470" id="page470"></a>[pg 470]</span>
like a candle, to fade like a flower, to pass away like a
breath. Is all that penetrating intellect, that creative fancy,
that vaulting ambition, those noble passions, those far-reaching
hopes, to come to nothing, to shrivel up into a
pinch of dust? It is not so, it cannot be. Man is the
flower of this wide world, the lord of creation, the crown and
consummation of all things, and it is to wrong him and his
creator to imagine that the grave is the end of all. To
those who take this lofty view of human nature it is easy
and obvious to find in the similar beliefs of savages a welcome
confirmation of their own cherished faith, and to insist
that a conviction so widely spread and so firmly held must
be based on some principle, call it instinct or intuition or
what you will, which is deeper than logic and cannot be
confuted by reasoning.</p>

<p class="side">The view of the pettiness and insignificance of man.</p>

<p>On the other hand, there are those who take a different
view of human nature, and who find in its contemplation a
source of humility rather than of pride. They remind us
how weak, how ignorant, how short-lived is the individual,
how infirm of purpose, how purblind of vision, how subject
to pain and suffering, to diseases that torture the body
and wreck the mind. They say that if the few short
years of his life are not wasted in idleness and vice, they are
spent for the most part in a perpetually recurring round
of trivialities, in the satisfaction of merely animal wants,
in eating, drinking, and slumber. When they survey the
history of mankind as a whole, they find the record
chequered and stained by folly and crime, by broken
faith, insensate ambition, wanton aggression, injustice,
cruelty, and lust, and seldom illumined by the mild radiance
of wisdom and virtue. And when they turn their eyes
from man himself to the place he occupies in the universe,
how are they overwhelmed by a sense of his littleness and
insignificance! They see the earth which he inhabits
dwindle to a speck in the unimaginable infinities of space,
and the brief span of his existence shrink into a moment
in the inconceivable infinities of time. And they ask, Shall
a creature so puny and frail claim to live for ever, to
outlast not only the present starry system but every other
that, when earth and sun and stars have crumbled into dust,
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page471" id="page471"></a>[pg 471]</span>
shall be built upon their ruins in the long long hereafter?
It is not so, it cannot be. The claim is nothing but the
outcome of exaggerated self-esteem, of inflated vanity; it is
the claim of a moth, shrivelled in the flame of a candle, to
outlive the sun, the claim of a worm to survive the destruction
of this terrestrial globe in which it burrows. Those
who take this view of the pettiness and transitoriness of
man compared with the vastness and permanence of the
universe find little in the beliefs of savages to alter their
opinion. They see in savage conceptions of the soul and
its destiny nothing but a product of childish ignorance, the
hallucinations of hysteria, the ravings of insanity, or the
concoctions of deliberate fraud and imposture. They dismiss
the whole of them as a pack of superstitions and lies,
unworthy the serious attention of a rational mind; and
they say that if such drivellings do not refute the belief in
immortality, as indeed from the nature of things they cannot
do, they are at least fitted to invest its high-flown pretensions
with an air of ludicrous absurdity.</p>

<p class="side">The conclusion left open.</p>

<p>Such are the two opposite views which I conceive may
be taken of the savage testimony to the survival of our
conscious personality after death. I do not presume to
adopt the one or the other. It is enough for me to have
laid a few of the facts before you. I leave you to draw
your own conclusion.</p>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote701" name="footnote701"></a><b>Footnote 701:</b><a href="#footnotetag701"> (return) </a><p> Berthold Seeman, <i>Viti, an Account of a Government
Mission to the Vitian or Fijian Islands</i> (Cambridge, 1862), pp. 391
<i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote702" name="footnote702"></a><b>Footnote 702:</b><a href="#footnotetag702"> (return) </a><p> Th. Williams, <i>Fiji and the Fijians</i>,
i. 216.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote703" name="footnote703"></a><b>Footnote 703:</b><a href="#footnotetag703"> (return) </a><p> Th. Williams, <i>op. cit.</i> i. 216, 218
<i>sq.</i>; Basil Thomson, <i>The Fijians</i>, p. 112.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote704" name="footnote704"></a><b>Footnote 704:</b><a href="#footnotetag704"> (return) </a><p> Hazlewood, quoted by Capt. J. E. Erskine, <i>Journal of a
Cruise among the Islands of the Western Pacific</i> (London, 1853), pp.
246 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote705" name="footnote705"></a><b>Footnote 705:</b><a href="#footnotetag705"> (return) </a><p> Ch. Wilkes, <i>Narrative of the United States Exploring
Expedition</i>, New Edition (New York, 1851), iii. 83 <i>sq.</i>; Th.
Williams, <i>Fiji and the Fijians</i>, i. 217 <i>sqq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote706" name="footnote706"></a><b>Footnote 706:</b><a href="#footnotetag706"> (return) </a><p> Ch. Wilkes, <i>Narrative of the United States Exploring
Expedition</i>, New Edition (New York, 1851), iii. 49, 86, 351, 352; Th.
Williams, <i>Fiji and the Fijians</i>, i. 221-223; B. Seeman,
<i>Viti</i>, pp. 392-394.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote707" name="footnote707"></a><b>Footnote 707:</b><a href="#footnotetag707"> (return) </a><p>Th. Williams, <i>op. cit.</i> i. 191 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote708" name="footnote708"></a><b>Footnote 708:</b><a href="#footnotetag708"> (return) </a><p>Th. Williams, <i>Fiji and the Fijians</i>, i. 223, 231.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote709" name="footnote709"></a><b>Footnote 709:</b><a href="#footnotetag709"> (return) </a><p> Ch. Wilkes, <i>op. cit.</i> iii. 87; Th.
Williams, <i>op. cit.</i> i. 226, 227; Basil
Thomson, <i>The Fijians</i>, pp. 157 <i>sqq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote710" name="footnote710"></a><b>Footnote 710:</b><a href="#footnotetag710"> (return) </a><p> Ch. Wilkes, <i>op. cit.</i> iii. 87 <i>sq.</i>; Th.
Williams, <i>op. cit.</i> i. 224 <i>sq.</i>; Capt. J. E. Erskine, <i>op.
cit.</i> p. 250; Lorimer Fison, <i>Tales from Old Fiji</i> (London,
1904), pp. 166 <i>sq.</i> As for the treatment of castaways, see J. E.
Erskine, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 249; Th. Williams, <i>op. cit.</i> i. 210.
The latter writer mentions a recent case in which fourteen or sixteen
shipwrecked persons were cooked and eaten.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote711" name="footnote711"></a><b>Footnote 711:</b><a href="#footnotetag711"> (return) </a><p> The Rev. Lorimer Fison, in a letter to me dated August
26th, 1898. I have already quoted the passage in <i>The Magic Art and
the Evolution of Kings</i>, i. 378.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote712" name="footnote712"></a><b>Footnote 712:</b><a href="#footnotetag712"> (return) </a><p> Th. Williams, <i>Fiji and the Fijians</i>,
i. 225 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote713" name="footnote713"></a><b>Footnote 713:</b><a href="#footnotetag713"> (return) </a><p>Th. Williams, <i>op. cit.</i> i. 231.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote714" name="footnote714"></a><b>Footnote 714:</b><a href="#footnotetag714"> (return) </a><p> Ch. Wilkes, <i>op. cit.</i> iii. 97; Th. Williams, <i>op.
cit.</i> i. 53.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote715" name="footnote715"></a><b>Footnote 715:</b><a href="#footnotetag715"> (return) </a><p> John Jackson's Narrative, in Capt. J. E. Erskine's
<i>Journal of a Cruise among the Islands of the Western Pacific</i>
(London, 1853), pp. 464 <i>sq.</i>, 472 <i>sq.</i> The genital members
of the men over whom the canoe was dragged were cut off and hung on a
sacred tree (<i>akau-tambu</i>), "which was already artificially
prolific in fruit, both of the masculine and feminine gender." The tree
which bore such remarkable fruit was commonly an ironweed tree standing
in a conspicuous situation. As to these sacrifices compare Ch. Wilkes,
<i>op. cit.</i> iii. 97; Lorimer Fison, <i>Tales from Old Fiji</i>, pp.
xvi. <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote716" name="footnote716"></a><b>Footnote 716:</b><a href="#footnotetag716"> (return) </a><p>Th. Williams, <i>op. cit.</i> i, 112.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote717" name="footnote717"></a><b>Footnote 717:</b><a href="#footnotetag717"> (return) </a><p>Th. Williams, <i>op. cit.</i> i. 55.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote718" name="footnote718"></a><b>Footnote 718:</b><a href="#footnotetag718"> (return) </a><p> Lorimer Fison, <i>Tales from Old Fiji</i>, pp. xx., xxi.
<i>sq.</i>; Th. Williams, <i>op. cit.</i> i. 247; B. Seeman, <i>Viti</i>
(Cambridge, 1862), p. 401.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote719" name="footnote719"></a><b>Footnote 719:</b><a href="#footnotetag719"> (return) </a><p> Th. Williams, <i>op. cit.</i> i. 55 <i>sq.</i> The writer
witnessed what he calls the ceremony of consecration in the case of a
young man of the highest rank in Somosomo and he has described what he
saw. In this case a special hut was not built for the manslayer, and he
was allowed to pass the nights in the temple of the war god.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote720" name="footnote720"></a><b>Footnote 720:</b><a href="#footnotetag720"> (return) </a><p> See above, pp. 205 <i>sq.</i>, 229 <i>sq.</i>,
258, 279 <i>sq.</i>, 323, 396, 415.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote721" name="footnote721"></a><b>Footnote 721:</b><a href="#footnotetag721"> (return) </a><p>Th. Williams, <i>op. cit.</i> i. 55.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote722" name="footnote722"></a><b>Footnote 722:</b><a href="#footnotetag722"> (return) </a><p> Ch. Wilkes, <i>op. cit.</i> iii. 98, 99 <i>sq.</i>
Compare Lorimer Fison, <i>Tales from Old Fiji</i>, p. 163: "A person who
has defiled himself by touching a corpse is called <i>yambo</i>, and is
not allowed to touch food with his hands for several days." The custom
as to a surviving widow is mentioned by Th. Williams, <i>op. cit.</i> i.
198.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote723" name="footnote723"></a><b>Footnote 723:</b><a href="#footnotetag723"> (return) </a><p>Lorimer Fison, <i>Tales from Old Fiji</i>, p. 167.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote724" name="footnote724"></a><b>Footnote 724:</b><a href="#footnotetag724"> (return) </a><p> Ch. Wilkes, <i>op. cit.</i> iii. 101; Th. Williams,
<i>op. cit.</i> i. 197 <i>sq.</i>; Lorimer Fison, <i>Tales from Old
Fiji</i>, p. 168; Basil Thomson, <i>The Fijian</i>, p. 375.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote725" name="footnote725"></a><b>Footnote 725:</b><a href="#footnotetag725"> (return) </a><p>Th. Williams, <i>op. cit.</i> i. 197, 198.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote726" name="footnote726"></a><b>Footnote 726:</b><a href="#footnotetag726"> (return) </a><p>Ch. Wilkes, <i>op. cit.</i> iii. 99.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote727" name="footnote727"></a><b>Footnote 727:</b><a href="#footnotetag727"> (return) </a><p>Th. Williams, <i>op. cit.</i> i. 198 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote728" name="footnote728"></a><b>Footnote 728:</b><a href="#footnotetag728"> (return) </a><p>Ch. Wilkes, <i>l.c.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote729" name="footnote729"></a><b>Footnote 729:</b><a href="#footnotetag729"> (return) </a><p>Th. Williams, <i>Fiji and the Fijians</i>, i. 197.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote730" name="footnote730"></a><b>Footnote 730:</b><a href="#footnotetag730"> (return) </a><p> K. Weinhold, <i>Altnordisches Leben</i> (Berlin, 1856),
p. 476.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote731" name="footnote731"></a><b>Footnote 731:</b><a href="#footnotetag731"> (return) </a><p> <i>The Zend-Avesta</i>, Part i. <i>The Vendid&acirc;d,</i>
translated by James Darmesteter (Oxford, 1880), p. 95 (Fargard, viii. 2.
10) (<i>Sacred Books of the East</i>, vol. iv.).</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote732" name="footnote732"></a><b>Footnote 732:</b><a href="#footnotetag732"> (return) </a><p> W. R. S. Ralston, <i>The Songs of the Russian People</i>,
Second Edition (London, 1872), p. 318.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote733" name="footnote733"></a><b>Footnote 733:</b><a href="#footnotetag733"> (return) </a><p> Sonnerat, <i>Voyage aux Indes Orientales et &agrave; la
Chine</i> (Paris, 1782), i. 86.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote734" name="footnote734"></a><b>Footnote 734:</b><a href="#footnotetag734"> (return) </a><p>J. A. Dubois, <i>M&oelig;urs, Institutions et C&eacute;r&eacute;monies des
Peuples de l'Inde</i> (Paris, 1825), ii. 225; E. Thurston,
<i>Ethnographic Notes in Southern India</i> (Madras, 1906), pp. 226
<i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote735" name="footnote735"></a><b>Footnote 735:</b><a href="#footnotetag735"> (return) </a><p> J. Grimm, <i>Deutsche Rechtsalterth&uuml;mer</i> 3rd ed.
(G&ouml;ttingen, 1881), pp. 726 <i>sqq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote736" name="footnote736"></a><b>Footnote 736:</b><a href="#footnotetag736"> (return) </a><p> Rev. J. G. Campbell, <i>Superstitions
of the Highlands and Islands of
Scotland</i> (Glasgow, 1900), p. 242.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote737" name="footnote737"></a><b>Footnote 737:</b><a href="#footnotetag737"> (return) </a><p> <i>The Sacred Books of China</i>, translated by James
Legge, Part iii. <i>The L&icirc;-K&icirc;</i>, i.-x. (Oxford, 1885) pp. 144
<i>sq.</i> (Bk. ii. Sect. i. Pt. II. 33) (<i>Sacred Books of the
East</i>, vol. xxvii.); J. F. Lafitau, <i>M&oelig;urs des Sauvages
Ameriquains</i> (Paris, 1724), ii. 401 <i>sq.</i>, citing Le Comte,
<i>Nouv. M&eacute;moires de la Chine</i>, vol. ii. p. 187.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote738" name="footnote738"></a><b>Footnote 738:</b><a href="#footnotetag738"> (return) </a><p> <i>Relations des J&eacute;suites</i>, 1633, p. 11; <i>id.</i>,
1634, p. 23 (Canadian reprint, Quebec, 1858); J. G. Kohl,
<i>Kitschi-Gami</i> (Bremen, 1859), p. 149 note.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote739" name="footnote739"></a><b>Footnote 739:</b><a href="#footnotetag739"> (return) </a><p> E. W. Nelson, "The Eskimo about Bering Strait,"
<i>Eighteenth Annual Report of the Bureau of American Ethnology</i>,
Part i. (Washington, 1899), p. 311.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote740" name="footnote740"></a><b>Footnote 740:</b><a href="#footnotetag740"> (return) </a><p> David Crantz, <i>History of Greenland</i> (London, 1767),
i. 237. Compare Hans Egede, <i>Description of Greenland</i>, Second
Edition (London, 1818), pp. 152 <i>sq.</i>; Captain G. F. Lyon,
<i>Private Journal</i> (London, 1824), p. 370; C. F. Hall, <i>Narrative
of the Second Arctic Expedition</i> (Washington, 1879), p. 265
(Esquimaux).</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote741" name="footnote741"></a><b>Footnote 741:</b><a href="#footnotetag741"> (return) </a><p> P. Kolben, <i>The Present State of the Cape of Good
Hope</i> (London, 1731-1738), i. 316; C. P. Thunberg, "An Account of the
Cape of Good Hope," in Pinkerton's <i>Voyages and Travels</i>, xvi.
(London, 1814) p. 142; <i>Bulletin de la Soci&eacute;t&eacute; de G&eacute;ographie</i>
(Paris), ii, S&eacute;rie, ii. (1834) p. 196 (Bechuanas); <i>id.</i>, vii.
S&eacute;rie, vii. (1886) p. 587 (Fernando Po); T. Arbousset et F. Daumas,
<i>Relation d'un Voyage d'Exploration au Nord-est de la Colonie du Cap
de Bonne-Esp&eacute;rance</i> (Paris, 1842), pp. 502 <i>sq.</i>; C. J.
Andersson, <i>Lake Ngami</i>, Second Edition (London, 1856), p. 466; G.
Fritsch, <i>Die Eingeborenen S&uuml;d-Afrika's</i> (Breslau, 1872), pp. 210,
335; R. Moffat, <i>Missionary Labours and Scenes in Southern Africa</i>
(London, 1842), p. 307; E. Casalis, <i>The Basutos</i> (London, 1861),
p. 202; Ladislaus Magyar, <i>Reisen in S&uuml;d-Afrika</i> (Buda-Pesth and
Leipsic, 1859), p. 350; Rev. J. Macdonald, <i>Light in Africa</i>,
Second Edition (London, 1890), p. 166; E. B&eacute;guin, <i>Les Ma-Rotse</i>
(Lausanne and Fontaines, 1903), p. 115; Henri A. Junod, <i>Les
Ba-Ronga</i> (Neuch&acirc;tel, 1898), p. 48; <i>id.</i>, <i>The Life of a
South African Tribe</i>, i. (Neuch&acirc;tel, 1912) p. 138; Dudley Kidd,
<i>The Essential Kafir</i> (London, 1904), p. 247; A. F.
Mockler-Ferryman, <i>British Nigeria</i> (London, 1902), p. 234;
Ramseyer and K&uuml;hne, <i>Four Years in Ashantee</i> (London, 1875), p. 50;
A. B. Ellis, <i>The Land of Fetish</i> (London, 1883), p. 13;
<i>id.</i>, <i>The Tshi-speaking Peoples of the Gold Coast</i> (London,
1887), p. 239; E. Perregaud, <i>Chez les Achanti</i> (Neuch&acirc;tel, 1906),
p. 127; J. Spieth, <i>Die Ewe-St&auml;mme</i> (Berlin, 1906), p. 756; H. R.
Palmer, "Notes on the Kor&ocirc;rofawa and Juko&ntilde;," <i>Journal of the African
Society</i>, No. 44 (July, 1912), p. 414. The custom is also observed by
some tribes of Central Africa. See Miss A. Werner, <i>The Natives of
British Central Africa</i> (London, 1906), p. 161; B. Gutmann, "Trauer
und Begr&auml;bnisssitten der Wadschagga," <i>Globus</i>, lxxxix. (1906) p.
200; Rev. N. Stam, "Religious Conceptions of the Kavirondo,"
<i>Anthropos</i>, v. (1910) p. 361.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote742" name="footnote742"></a><b>Footnote 742:</b><a href="#footnotetag742"> (return) </a><p> C. Snouck Hurgronje, <i>Het Gajoland en zijne
Bewoners</i> (Batavia, 1903), p. 313.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote743" name="footnote743"></a><b>Footnote 743:</b><a href="#footnotetag743"> (return) </a><p> Aurel Krause, <i>Die Tlinkit-Indianer</i> (Jena, 1885),
p. 225; Franz Boas, in <i>Sixth Report of the Committee on the
North-western Tribes of Canada</i>, p. 23 (separate reprint from the
<i>Report of the British Association for the Advancement of Science</i>,
Leeds Meeting, 1890); J. R. Swanton, <i>Contributions to the Ethnology
of the Haida</i> (Leyden and New York, 1905), pp. 52, 54 (<i>The Jesup
North Pacific Expedition, Memoir of the American Museum of Natural
History</i>).</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote744" name="footnote744"></a><b>Footnote 744:</b><a href="#footnotetag744"> (return) </a><p> J. A. H. Louis, <i>The Gates of Thibet</i> (Calcutta,
1894), p. 114.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote745" name="footnote745"></a><b>Footnote 745:</b><a href="#footnotetag745"> (return) </a><p> H. von Wlislocki, <i>Volksglaube und religi&ouml;ser Brauch
der Zigeuner</i> (M&uuml;nster i. W., 1891), p. 99.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote746" name="footnote746"></a><b>Footnote 746:</b><a href="#footnotetag746"> (return) </a><p> W. Jochelson, <i>The Koryak</i> (New York and Leyden,
1908), pp. 110 <i>sq.</i> (<i>The Jesup North Pacific Expedition, Memoir
of the American Museum of Natural History</i>).</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote747" name="footnote747"></a><b>Footnote 747:</b><a href="#footnotetag747"> (return) </a><p> W. H. Dall, <i>Alaska and its Resources</i>
(London, 1870), p. 382.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote748" name="footnote748"></a><b>Footnote 748:</b><a href="#footnotetag748"> (return) </a><p> Lucien M. Turner, "Ethnology of the Ungava District,
Hudson Bay Territory," <i>Eleventh Annual Report of the Bureau of
Ethnology</i> (Washington, 1894), p. 191.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote749" name="footnote749"></a><b>Footnote 749:</b><a href="#footnotetag749"> (return) </a><p> Mgr. Brugui&egrave;re, in <i>Annales de l'Association de la
Propagation de la Foi</i>, v. (Lyons and Paris, 1831) p. 180. Compare
Mgr. Pallegoix, <i>Description du royaume Thai ou Siam</i> (Paris,
1854), i. 245; Adolf Bastian, <i>Die Volker des &ouml;stlichen Asien</i>,
iii. (Jena, 1867) p. 258; E. Young, <i>The Kingdom of the Yellow
Robe</i> (Westminster, 1898), p. 246.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote750" name="footnote750"></a><b>Footnote 750:</b><a href="#footnotetag750"> (return) </a><p> S. Mateer, <i>Native Life in Travancore</i> (London,
1883), p. 137. Compare A. Butterworth, "Royal Funerals in Travancore,"
<i>Indian Antiquary</i>, xxxi. (1902) p. 251.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote751" name="footnote751"></a><b>Footnote 751:</b><a href="#footnotetag751"> (return) </a><p> Ch. Hose and W. McDougall, <i>The Pagan Tribes of
Borneo</i> (London, 1912), ii. 35.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote752" name="footnote752"></a><b>Footnote 752:</b><a href="#footnotetag752"> (return) </a><p> S. K. Kusnezow, "&Uuml;ber den Glauben vom Jenseits und den
Todtencultus der Tscheremissen," <i>Internationales Archiv f&uuml;r
Ethnographie</i>, ix. (1896) p. 157.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote753" name="footnote753"></a><b>Footnote 753:</b><a href="#footnotetag753"> (return) </a><p> P. S. Pallas, <i>Reise durch verschiedene Provinzen des
Russischen Reichs</i> (St. Petersburg, 1771-1776), iii. 75; Middendorff,
<i>Reise in den &auml;ussersten Norden und Osten Sibiriens</i>, iv. 1464.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote754" name="footnote754"></a><b>Footnote 754:</b><a href="#footnotetag754"> (return) </a><p> <i>Exploraciones y Noticias hidrograficas de los Rios del
Norte de Bolivia</i>, publicados por Manuel V. Ballivian, Segunda Parte,
<i>Diario del Viage al Madre de Dios hecho por el P. Fr. Nicolas
Armentia, en los a&ntilde;os de 1884 y 1885</i> (La Paz, 1890), p. 20:
<i>"Cuando muere alguno, ap&eacute;nas sacan el cad&aacute;ver de la casa, cambian la
puerta al lado opuesto, para que no d&eacute; con ella el difunto."</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote755" name="footnote755"></a><b>Footnote 755:</b><a href="#footnotetag755"> (return) </a><p> Karl Bartsch, <i>Sagen, M&auml;rchen und
Gebr&auml;uche aus Meklenburg</i> (Vienna,
1879-1880), ii. 100, &sect; 358.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote756" name="footnote756"></a><b>Footnote 756:</b><a href="#footnotetag756"> (return) </a><p> For some evidence on this subject, see R. Lasch, "Die
Behandlung der Leiche des Selbstm&ouml;rders," <i>Globus</i>, lxxxvi. (1899)
pp. 63-66; Rev. J. Roscoe, <i>The Baganda</i> (London, 1911), pp. 20
<i>sq.</i>; A. Karasek, "Beitr&auml;ge zur Kenntnis der Waschamba,"
<i>Baessler-Archiv</i>, i. (1911) pp. 190 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote757" name="footnote757"></a><b>Footnote 757:</b><a href="#footnotetag757"> (return) </a><p> Rev. N. Stam, "The Religious Conceptions of the
Kavirondo," <i>Anthropos</i>, v. (1910) p. 361.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote758" name="footnote758"></a><b>Footnote 758:</b><a href="#footnotetag758"> (return) </a><p> Alfred de Nore, <i>Coutumes, Mythes, et Traditions des
Provinces de France</i> (Paris and Lyons, 1846), p. 198.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote759" name="footnote759"></a><b>Footnote 759:</b><a href="#footnotetag759"> (return) </a><p> F&eacute;lix Chapiseau, <i>Le Folk-lore de la Beauce et du
Perche</i> (Paris, 1902), ii. 164.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote760" name="footnote760"></a><b>Footnote 760:</b><a href="#footnotetag760"> (return) </a><p> For some evidence on this subject see <i>Psyche's
Task</i>, pp. 64 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote761" name="footnote761"></a><b>Footnote 761:</b><a href="#footnotetag761"> (return) </a><p> Carl Bock, <i>Temples and Elephants</i> (London, 1884),
p. 262.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote762" name="footnote762"></a><b>Footnote 762:</b><a href="#footnotetag762"> (return) </a><p> Ch. Gilhodes, "Naissance et Enfance chez les Katchins
(Birmanie)," <i>Anthropos</i>, vi. (1911) pp. 872 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote763" name="footnote763"></a><b>Footnote 763:</b><a href="#footnotetag763"> (return) </a><p> A. W. Nieuwenhuis, <i>Quer durch Borneo</i> (Leyden,
1901-1907), i. 91.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote764" name="footnote764"></a><b>Footnote 764:</b><a href="#footnotetag764"> (return) </a><p> Ch. Hose and W. McDougall, <i>The Pagan Tribes of
Borneo</i> (London, 1912), ii. 155.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote765" name="footnote765"></a><b>Footnote 765:</b><a href="#footnotetag765"> (return) </a><p> Franz Boas, in <i>Sixth Report of the Committee on the
North-western Tribes of Canada</i>, p. 23 (separate reprint from the
<i>Report of the British Association for the Advancement of Science</i>,
Leeds Meeting, 1890).</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote766" name="footnote766"></a><b>Footnote 766:</b><a href="#footnotetag766"> (return) </a><p> Prevost, quoted by John Crawford, <i>History of the
Indian Archipelago</i> (Edinburgh, 1820), ii. 245. Compare Adolf
Bastian, <i>Die V&ouml;lker des &ouml;stlichen Asien</i>, v. (Jena, 1869) p. 83.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote767" name="footnote767"></a><b>Footnote 767:</b><a href="#footnotetag767"> (return) </a><p> Mrs. Bishop (Isabella L. Bird), <i>Korea and her
Neighbours</i> (London, 1898), i. 239 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote768" name="footnote768"></a><b>Footnote 768:</b><a href="#footnotetag768"> (return) </a><p> Arnold van Gennep, <i>Tabou et Tot&eacute;misme &agrave; Madagascar</i>
(Paris, 1904), p. 65, quoting Dr. Catat.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote769" name="footnote769"></a><b>Footnote 769:</b><a href="#footnotetag769"> (return) </a><p> B. F. Matthes, <i>Bijdragen tot de Ethnologie van
Zuid-Celebes</i> (The Hague, 1875), p. 139; <i>id.</i>, "Over de &acirc;d&aacute;'s
of gewoonten der Makassaren en Boegineezen," <i>Verslagen en
Mededeelingen der Koninklijke Akademie van Wetenschappen</i>, Afdeeling
Letterkunde, Derde Reeks, ii. (Amsterdam, 1885) p. 142.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote770" name="footnote770"></a><b>Footnote 770:</b><a href="#footnotetag770"> (return) </a><p> W. M. Donselaar "Aanteekeningen over het eiland
Saleijer," <i>Mededeelingen van wege het Nederlandsche
Zendelinggenootschap</i>, i. (1857) p. 291.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote771" name="footnote771"></a><b>Footnote 771:</b><a href="#footnotetag771"> (return) </a><p>See above, p. 426.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote772" name="footnote772"></a><b>Footnote 772:</b><a href="#footnotetag772"> (return) </a><p> Th. Williams, <i>Fiji and the Fijians</i>, Second Edition
(London, 1860), i. 167.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote773" name="footnote773"></a><b>Footnote 773:</b><a href="#footnotetag773"> (return) </a><p> Ch. Wilkes, <i>Narrative of the United States Exploring
Expedition</i>, New Edition (New York, 1851), iii. 83; Basil Thomson,
<i>The Fijians</i>, p. 117.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote774" name="footnote774"></a><b>Footnote 774:</b><a href="#footnotetag774"> (return) </a><p>Basil Thomson, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 121.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote775" name="footnote775"></a><b>Footnote 775:</b><a href="#footnotetag775"> (return) </a><p>Lorimer Fison, <i>Tales from Old Fiji</i>, p. 163.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote776" name="footnote776"></a><b>Footnote 776:</b><a href="#footnotetag776"> (return) </a><p>Th. Williams, <i>Fiji and the Fijians</i>, i. 239.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote777" name="footnote777"></a><b>Footnote 777:</b><a href="#footnotetag777"> (return) </a><p> Th. Williams, <i>op. cit.</i> i. 243 <i>sq.</i> Compare
Berthold Seeman, <i>Viti, an Account of a Government Mission to the
Vitian of Fijian Islands in the years 1860-1861</i> (Cambridge, 1862),
p. 399; Lorimer Fison, <i>Tales from Old Fiji</i>, p. 163; Basil
Thomson, <i>The Fijians</i>, pp. 120 <i>sq.</i>, 121 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote778" name="footnote778"></a><b>Footnote 778:</b><a href="#footnotetag778"> (return) </a><p>Th. Williams, <i>op. cit.</i> i, 244 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote779" name="footnote779"></a><b>Footnote 779:</b><a href="#footnotetag779"> (return) </a><p>Ch. Wilkes, <i>op. cit.</i> iii. 83.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote780" name="footnote780"></a><b>Footnote 780:</b><a href="#footnotetag780"> (return) </a><p>Th. Williams, <i>op. cit.</i> i. 245 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote781" name="footnote781"></a><b>Footnote 781:</b><a href="#footnotetag781"> (return) </a><p>Th. Williams, <i>op. cit.</i> i. 246 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote782" name="footnote782"></a><b>Footnote 782:</b><a href="#footnotetag782"> (return) </a><p>Th. Williams, <i>op. cit.</i> i. 247.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote783" name="footnote783"></a><b>Footnote 783:</b><a href="#footnotetag783"> (return) </a><p>Ch. Wilkes, <i>op. cit.</i> iii. 85 <i>sq.</i></p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote784" name="footnote784"></a><b>Footnote 784:</b><a href="#footnotetag784"> (return) </a><p>Th. Williams, <i>op. cit.</i> i. 248.</p></blockquote>

<span class="pagenum"><a name="page472" id="page472"></a>[pg 472]</span>




<h2><a name="note" id="note"></a>NOTE</h2>

<h3>MYTH OF THE CONTINUANCE OF DEATH<a id="footnotetag785" name="footnotetag785"></a><a href="#footnote785"><sup>785</sup></a></h3>


<p>The following story is told by the Balolo of the Upper Congo to
explain the continuance, if not the origin, of death in the world.
One day, while a man was working in the forest, a little man with
two bundles, one large and one small, went up to him and said,
"Which of these bundles will you have? The large one contains
knives, looking-glasses, cloth and so forth; and the small one
contains immortal life." "I cannot choose by myself," answered
the man; "I must go and ask the other people in the town."
While he was gone to ask the others, some women arrived and the
choice was left to them. They tried the edges of the knives,
decked themselves in the cloth, admired themselves in the looking-glasses,
and, without more ado, chose the big bundle. The little
man, picking up the small bundle, vanished. So when the man
came back from the town, the little man and his bundles were gone.
The women exhibited and shared the things, but death continued
on the earth. Hence the people often say, "Oh, if those women
had only chosen the small bundle, we should not be dying like
this!"<a id="footnotetag786" name="footnotetag786"></a><a href="#footnote786"><sup>786</sup></a></p>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote785" name="footnote785"></a><b>Footnote 785:</b><a href="#footnotetag785"> (return) </a><p>See above, p. 77.</p></blockquote>

<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote786" name="footnote786"></a><b>Footnote 786:</b><a href="#footnotetag786"> (return) </a><p> Rev. John H. Weeks, "Stories
and other Notes from the Upper
Congo," <i>Folk-lore</i>, xii. (1901) p. 461;
<i>id.</i>, <i>Among Congo Cannibals</i> (London,
1913), p. 218. The country of the
Balolo lies five miles south of the
Equator, on Longitude 18&deg; East.</p></blockquote>
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page473" id="page473"></a>[pg 473]</span>




<h2><a name="index" id="index"></a>INDEX</h2>

<p>
Abinal, Father, <a href="#page49">49</a><br/>
<br/>
Abipones, their belief in sorcery as a cause of death, <a href="#page35">35</a><br/>
<br/>
Abnormal mental states explained by inspiration, <a href="#page15">15</a><br/>
<br/>
Aborigines, magical powers attributed by immigrants to, <a href="#page193">193</a><br/>
<br/>
Abstinence from certain food in mourning, <a href="#page198">198</a>, <a href="#page208">208</a>, <a href="#page209">209</a>, <a href="#page230">230</a>, <a href="#page314">314</a>, <a href="#page360">360</a>, <a href="#page452">452</a><br/>
<br/>
Abundance of food and water favourable to social progress, <a href="#page90">90</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Action as a clue to belief, <a href="#page143">143</a><br/>
<br/>
Actors personating ghosts and spirits, <a href="#page176">176</a>, <a href="#page179">179</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page180">180</a> <i>sqq.</i>, <a href="#page185">185</a> <i>sqq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Adiri, the land of the dead, <a href="#page211">211</a>, <a href="#page212">212</a>, <a href="#page213">213</a>, <a href="#page214">214</a><br/>
<br/>
Admiralty Islands, <a href="#page393">393</a>, <a href="#page400">400</a>, <a href="#page401">401</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; Islanders, their myths of the origin of death, <a href="#page71">71</a>, <a href="#page76">76</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Advance of culture among the aborigines of South-Eastern Australia, <a href="#page141">141</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page148">148</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Africa, aborigines of, their ideas as to the cause of death, <a href="#page49">49</a> <i>sqq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;use of poison ordeal in, <a href="#page50">50</a> <i>sqq.</i><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash;, British Central, <a href="#page162">162</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash;, British East, <a href="#page61">61</a>, <a href="#page66">66</a>, <a href="#page254">254</a><br/>
<br/>
Agriculture, rise of, favourable to astronomy, <a href="#page140">140</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;Fijian, <a href="#page408">408</a><br/>
<br/>
Akamba, their story of the origin of death, <a href="#page61">61</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Akikuyu, resurrection and circumcision among the, <a href="#page254">254</a><br/>
<br/>
<i>Alcheringa</i> or dream times, <a href="#page96">96</a>, <a href="#page103">103</a>, <a href="#page114">114</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; ancestors, their marvellous powers, <a href="#page103">103</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; home of the dead, <a href="#page167">167</a><br/>
<br/>
Alfoors of Celebes, <a href="#page166">166</a><br/>
<br/>
Alligators, ghosts in, <a href="#page380">380</a><br/>
<br/>
<i>Alols</i>, bachelors' houses, <a href="#page221">221</a>, <a href="#page222">222</a><br/>
<br/>
Altars, stones used as, <a href="#page379">379</a><br/>
<br/>
Amputation of fingers in mourning, <a href="#page199">199</a>, <a href="#page426">426</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page451">451</a><br/>
<br/>
Amulets consisting of relics of the dead, <a href="#page332">332</a>, <a href="#page370">370</a><br/>
<br/>
Ancestor, totemic, developing into a god, <a href="#page113">113</a><br/>
<br/>
Ancestor-worship possibly evolved from totemism, <a href="#page114">114</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Ancestors, reincarnation of, <a href="#page92">92</a> <i>sqq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;marvellous powers ascribed to remote, <a href="#page103">103</a>, <a href="#page114">114</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;totemic, traditions concerning, <a href="#page115">115</a> <i>sqq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;dramatic ceremonies to commemorate the doings of, <a href="#page118">118</a> <i>sqq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;possible evolution of worship of, in Central Australia, <a href="#page125">125</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;worshipped, <a href="#page221">221</a>, <a href="#page297">297</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page328">328</a> <i>sqq.</i>, <a href="#page338">338</a>, <a href="#page340">340</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;ghosts of, appealed to for help, <a href="#page258">258</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;offerings to, <a href="#page298">298</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;prayers to, <a href="#page329">329</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page332">332</a> <i>sqq.</i><br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;<i>See also</i> <a href="#index-dead">Dead</a><br/>
<br/>
Ancestral gods, foreskins of circumcised lads offered to, <a href="#page427">427</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;libations to, <a href="#page430">430</a>, <a href="#page438">438</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; images, <a href="#page307">307</a> <i>sqq.</i>, <a href="#page315">315</a>, <a href="#page316">316</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page321">321</a>, <a href="#page322">322</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; spirits help hunters and fishers, <a href="#page226">226</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;shrines for, <a href="#page316">316</a>, <a href="#page317">317</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;worshipped as gods, <a href="#page369">369</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;worshipped in the <i>Nanga</i>, <a href="#page428">428</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;first-fruits offered to, <a href="#page429">429</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;cloth and weapons offered to, <a href="#page430">430</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;novices presented to, at initiation, <a href="#page432">432</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page434">434</a>.<br/>
<br/>
Angola, the poison ordeal in, <a href="#page51">51</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Angoni, their burial customs, <a href="#page162">162</a><br/>
<br/>
Animals, souls of sorcerers in, <a href="#page39">39</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;spirits of, go to the spirit land, <a href="#page210">210</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;sacrifices to the souls of, <a href="#page239">239</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;transmigration of dead into, <a href="#page242">242</a>, <a href="#page245">245</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;ghosts in the form of, <a href="#page282">282</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;ghosts turn into, <a href="#page287">287</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;ghosts incarnate in, <a href="#page379">379</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Animistic views of the Papuans, <a href="#page264">264</a><br/>
<br/>
Anjea, a mythical being, <a href="#page128">128</a><br/>
<br/>
Annam, <a href="#page67">67</a>, <a href="#page69">69</a><br/>
<br/>
Anointing manslayers, <a href="#page448">448</a><br/>
<br/>
Ant-hills, ghosts turn into, <a href="#page287">287</a><br/>
<br/>
Ant totem, dramatic ceremony concerned with, <a href="#page120">120</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Ants' nests, ghosts turn into, <a href="#page351">351</a><br/>
<br/>
Anthropology, comparative and descriptive, <a href="#page230">230</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page497" id="page497"></a>[pg 497]</span>
<br/>
Antimerina of Madagascar, burial custom of the, <a href="#page461">461</a><br/>
<br/>
Anuto, a creator, <a href="#page296">296</a><br/>
<br/>
Apparitions, <a href="#page396">396</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;fear of, <a href="#page414">414</a><br/>
<br/>
Appearance of the dead in dreams, <a href="#page229">229</a><br/>
<br/>
Araucanians of Chili, their disbelief in natural death, <a href="#page35">35</a>, <a href="#page53">53</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Arawaks of Guiana, <a href="#page36">36</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;their myth of the origin of death, <a href="#page70">70</a><br/>
<br/>
Arm-bone, final burial ceremony performed with the, <a href="#page167">167</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;lower, of dead preserved, <a href="#page274">274</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; -bones, special treatment of the, <a href="#page199">199</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;of dead preserved, <a href="#page225">225</a>, <a href="#page249">249</a><br/>
<br/>
Aroma district of British New Guinea, <a href="#page201">201</a>, <a href="#page202">202</a><br/>
<br/>
Arrow-heads made of bones of the dead, <a href="#page352">352</a><br/>
<br/>
Art, primitive religious, <a href="#page114">114</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;Papuan, <a href="#page220">220</a><br/>
<br/>
<i>Arugo</i>, soul of dead, <a href="#page207">207</a><br/>
<br/>
<i>Arumburinga</i>, spiritual double, <a href="#page164">164</a><br/>
<br/>
Arunta, the, of Central Australia, <a href="#page94">94</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;ceremonies connected with totems, <a href="#page119">119</a> <i>sqq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;their magical ceremonies for the multiplication of the totems, <a href="#page122">122</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;their customs as to the hair of the dead, <a href="#page138">138</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;their cuttings for the dead, <a href="#page155">155</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page159">159</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;burial customs of the, <a href="#page164">164</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page166">166</a><br/>
<br/>
Aryan burial custom, <a href="#page453">453</a><br/>
<br/>
<i>Asa</i>, Secret Society, <a href="#page233">233</a><br/>
<br/>
Ashantee story of the origin of death, <a href="#page63">63</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Ashes smeared on mourners, <a href="#page184">184</a>, <a href="#page361">361</a><br/>
<br/>
Astrolabe Bay in German New Guinea, <a href="#page218">218</a>, <a href="#page230">230</a>, <a href="#page235">235</a>, <a href="#page237">237</a><br/>
<br/>
Astronomy, rise of, favoured by agriculture, <a href="#page140">140</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Asylums, <a href="#page243">243</a><br/>
<br/>
<i>Asyr&egrave;n</i>, dead man, <a href="#page457">457</a><br/>
<br/>
<i>Ataro</i>, a powerful ghost, <a href="#page377">377</a><br/>
<br/>
Atonement for sick chief, <a href="#page427">427</a><br/>
<br/>
Aukem, a mythical being, <a href="#page181">181</a><br/>
<br/>
Aurora, one of the New Hebrides, <a href="#page360">360</a>, <a href="#page382">382</a><br/>
<br/>
Australia, causes which retarded progress in, <a href="#page89">89</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;germs of a worship of the dead in, <a href="#page168">168</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;<i>See also</i> <a href="#index-central-australia">Central Australia</a>, <a href="#index-western-australia">Western Australia</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash;, the aborigines of, their ideas as to death from natural causes, <a href="#page40">40</a> <i>sqq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;their primitive character, <a href="#page88">88</a>, <a href="#page91">91</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;the belief in immortality among, <a href="#page127">127</a> <i>sqq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;thought to be reborn in white people, <a href="#page130">130</a>, <a href="#page131">131</a> <i>sqq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;their burial customs, <a href="#page144">144</a> <i>sqq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;their primitive condition, <a href="#page217">217</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash;, South, beliefs as to the dead in, <a href="#page134">134</a> <i>sqq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Australia, South-Eastern, beliefs as to the dead in, <a href="#page133">133</a> <i>sq.</i>, 139;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;burial customs among the aborigines of, <a href="#page145">145</a> <i>sqq.</i><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash;, Western, burial customs in, <a href="#page147">147</a>, <a href="#page150">150</a>, <a href="#page151">151</a><br/>
<br/>
Authority of chiefs based on their claim to magical powers, <a href="#page395">395</a><br/>
<br/>
Avenging a death, pretence of, <a href="#page282">282</a>, <a href="#page328">328</a>
</p>

<p>
Bachelor ghosts, hard fate of, <a href="#page464">464</a><br/>
<br/>
Bachelors' houses, <a href="#page221">221</a><br/>
<br/>
Bad and good, different fate of the, after death, <a href="#page354">354</a><br/>
<br/>
<a name="index-baganda" id="index-baganda"></a>Baganda, the, their ideas as to the causes of death, <a href="#page56">56</a> <i>n.</i> <a href="#footnote56">2</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;their myth of the origin of death, <a href="#page78">78</a> <i>sqq.</i><br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;<i>See also</i> <a href="#index-uganda">Uganda</a><br/>
<br/>
Bahaus, the, of Borneo, <a href="#page459">459</a><br/>
<br/>
Bahnars of Cochinchina, <a href="#page74">74</a><br/>
<br/>
Baka&iuml;ri, the, of Brazil, <a href="#page35">35</a><br/>
<br/>
Bakerewe, the, of the Victoria Nyanza, <a href="#page50">50</a><br/>
<br/>
Bali, burial custom in, <a href="#page460">460</a><br/>
<br/>
Balking ghosts, <a href="#page455">455</a> <i>sqq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Balolo, of the Upper Congo, their myth of the continuance of death, <a href="#page472">472</a><br/>
<br/>
<i>Balum</i>, ghost or spirit of dead, <a href="#page244">244</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;name for bull-roarer, <a href="#page250">250</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;name for a ghost or monster who swallows lads at initiation, <a href="#page251">251</a>, <a href="#page255">255</a>, <a href="#page260">260</a>, <a href="#page261">261</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;soul of a dead man, <a href="#page257">257</a>, <a href="#page261">261</a><br/>
<br/>
Bamler, G., <a href="#page291">291</a>, <a href="#page297">297</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Bananas in myths of the origin of death, <a href="#page60">60</a>, <a href="#page70">70</a>, <a href="#page72">72</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Bandages to prevent entrance of ghosts, <a href="#page396">396</a><br/>
<br/>
Bandaging eyes of corpse, <a href="#page459">459</a><br/>
<br/>
Banks' Islands, <a href="#page343">343</a>, <a href="#page353">353</a>, <a href="#page386">386</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;myths of the origin of death in, <a href="#page71">71</a>, <a href="#page83">83</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; Islanders, funeral customs of the, <a href="#page355">355</a> <i>sqq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Bantu family, <a href="#page60">60</a><br/>
<br/>
Baronga, the, <a href="#page61">61</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;burial custom of the, <a href="#page454">454</a><br/>
<br/>
Bartle Bay, <a href="#page206">206</a>, <a href="#page208">208</a><br/>
<br/>
Basutos, the, <a href="#page61">61</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;burial custom of the, <a href="#page454">454</a><br/>
<br/>
Bat in myth of origin of death, <a href="#page75">75</a><br/>
<br/>
Bathing in sea after funeral, <a href="#page207">207</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;as purification after a death, <a href="#page314">314</a>, <a href="#page319">319</a><br/>
<br/>
Battel, Andrew, <a href="#page51">51</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Bechuanas, the, <a href="#page61">61</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;burial custom of the, <a href="#page454">454</a><br/>
<br/>
Beetles in myth of the origin of death, <a href="#page70">70</a><br/>
<br/>
Belep tribe of New Caledonia, <a href="#page325">325</a><br/>
<br/>
Belief, acts as a clue to, <a href="#page143">143</a><br/>
<br/>
Belief in immortality, origin of belief in, <a href="#page25">25</a> <i>sqq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;almost universal among races of mankind, <a href="#page33">33</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;among the aborigines of Central Australia, <a href="#page87">87</a> <i>sqq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;among the islanders of Torres Straits, <a href="#page170">170</a> <i>sqq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;among the natives of British New Guinea, <a href="#page190">190</a> <i>sqq.</i>;<br/>
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page498" id="page498"></a>[pg 498]</span>
&nbsp;&nbsp;among the natives of German New Guinea, <a href="#page216">216</a> <i>sqq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;among the natives of Dutch New Guinea, <a href="#page303">303</a> <i>sqq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;among the natives of Southern Melanesia, <a href="#page324">324</a> <i>sqq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;among the natives of Central Melanesia, <a href="#page343">343</a> <i>sqq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;its practical effect on the life of the Central Melanesians, <a href="#page391">391</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;among the natives of Northern Melanesia, <a href="#page393">393</a> <i>sqq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;among the Fijians, <a href="#page406">406</a> <i>sqq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;strongly held by savages, <a href="#page468">468</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;destruction of life and property entailed by the, <a href="#page468">468</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;the question of its truth, <a href="#page469">469</a> <i>sqq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Belief in sorcery a cause of keeping down the population, <a href="#page38">38</a>, <a href="#page40">40</a><br/>
<br/>
Berkeley, his theory of knowledge, <a href="#page11">11</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Berlin Harbour in German New Guinea, <a href="#page218">218</a><br/>
<br/>
Bernau, Rev. J. H., <a href="#page38">38</a><br/>
<br/>
Beryl-stone in <i>Rose Mary</i>, <a href="#page130">130</a><br/>
<br/>
Betindalo, the land of the dead, <a href="#page350">350</a><br/>
<br/>
Bhotias, the, of the Himalayas, <a href="#page163">163</a><br/>
<br/>
Biak or Wiak, island, <a href="#page303">303</a><br/>
<br/>
Bilking a ghost, <a href="#page416">416</a><br/>
<br/>
Bird in divination as to cause of death, <a href="#page45">45</a><br/>
<br/>
Birds, souls of sorcerers in, <a href="#page39">39</a><br/>
<br/>
Birth, new, at initiation, pretence of, <a href="#page254">254</a><br/>
<br/>
Birthplaces, the dead buried in their, <a href="#page160">160</a><br/>
<br/>
Birth-stones and birth-sticks (<i>churinga</i>) of the Central Australians, <a href="#page96">96</a> <i>sqq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Bismarck Archipelago, <a href="#page70">70</a>, <a href="#page394">394</a>, <a href="#page402">402</a><br/>
<br/>
Black, mourners painted, <a href="#page178">178</a>, <a href="#page241">241</a>, <a href="#page293">293</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;gravediggers painted, <a href="#page451">451</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; -snake people, <a href="#page94">94</a><br/>
<br/>
Blackened, faces of mourners, <a href="#page403">403</a><br/>
<br/>
Blood of mourners dropped on corpse or into grave, <a href="#page158">158</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page183">183</a>, <a href="#page185">185</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;and hair of mourners offered to the dead, <a href="#page183">183</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;of pigs smeared on skulls and bones of the dead, <a href="#page200">200</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;soul thought to reside in the, <a href="#page307">307</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;of sacrificial victim not allowed to fall on the ground, <a href="#page365">365</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; revenge, duty of, <a href="#page274">274</a>, <a href="#page276">276</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;discharged by sham fight, <a href="#page136">136</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Bogadyim, in German New Guinea, <a href="#page230">230</a>, <a href="#page231">231</a><br/>
<br/>
Boigu, the island of the dead, <a href="#page175">175</a>, <a href="#page184">184</a>, <a href="#page213">213</a><br/>
<br/>
Bolafagina, the lord of the dead, <a href="#page350">350</a><br/>
<br/>
Bolotoo, the land of souls, <a href="#page411">411</a><br/>
<br/>
Bones of the dead, second burial of the, <a href="#page166">166</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;kept in house, <a href="#page203">203</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;worn by survivors, <a href="#page225">225</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;disinterred and kept in house, <a href="#page225">225</a>, <a href="#page294">294</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;making rain by means of the, <a href="#page341">341</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; and skulls of dead smeared with blood of pigs, <a href="#page200">200</a><br/>
<br/>
Bonitos, ghosts in, <a href="#page380">380</a><br/>
<br/>
<i>Boollia</i>, magic, <a href="#page41">41</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
"Born of an oak or a rock," <a href="#page128">128</a><br/>
<br/>
Bougainville, island of, <a href="#page393">393</a><br/>
<br/>
Boulia district of Queensland, <a href="#page147">147</a>, <a href="#page155">155</a><br/>
<br/>
Bow, divination by, <a href="#page241">241</a><br/>
<br/>
Bread-fruit trees, stones to make them bear fruit, <a href="#page335">335</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Breaking things offered to the dead, <a href="#page276">276</a><br/>
<br/>
Breath, vital principle associated with the, <a href="#page129">129</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Brett, Rev. W. H., <a href="#page35">35</a> <i>sqq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Brewin, an evil spirit, <a href="#page45">45</a><br/>
<br/>
Brittany, burial custom in, <a href="#page458">458</a><br/>
<br/>
Brothers-in-law in funeral rites, <a href="#page177">177</a><br/>
<br/>
Brown, Rev. Dr. George, <a href="#page48">48</a>, <a href="#page395">395</a><br/>
<br/>
Buandik, the, <a href="#page138">138</a><br/>
<br/>
Buckley, the convict, <a href="#page131">131</a><br/>
<br/>
Buginese, burial custom of the, <a href="#page461">461</a><br/>
<br/>
Bugotu, <a href="#page350">350</a>, <a href="#page352">352</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;in Ysabel, <a href="#page372">372</a>, <a href="#page379">379</a><br/>
<br/>
Building king's house, men sacrificed at, <a href="#page446">446</a><br/>
<br/>
Bukaua, the, of German New Guinea, <a href="#page242">242</a>, <a href="#page256">256</a> <i>sqq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Bull-roarers, <a href="#page243">243</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;used in divination, <a href="#page249">249</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;described, <a href="#page250">250</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;used at initiation of young men among the Yabim, <a href="#page250">250</a> <i>sqq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;among the Kaya-Kaya, <a href="#page255">255</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;at initiation among the Bukaua, <a href="#page260">260</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;associated with the spirits of the dead, <a href="#page261">261</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;at initiation among the Kai, <a href="#page263">263</a>, <a href="#page291">291</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;at initiation of young men among the Tami, <a href="#page301">301</a>, <a href="#page302">302</a><br/>
<br/>
Bulotu or Bulu, the land of the dead, <a href="#page462">462</a>, <a href="#page463">463</a><br/>
<br/>
Bundle, the fatal, <a href="#page472">472</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;story of, <a href="#page77">77</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
<i>Bures</i>, Fijian temples, <a href="#page439">439</a><br/>
<br/>
Burial different for old and young, married and unmarried, etc., <a href="#page161">161</a> <i>sqq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;and burning of the dead, <a href="#page162">162</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;special modes of, intended to prevent or facilitate the return of the spirit, <a href="#page163">163</a> <i>sqq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;second, custom of, <a href="#page166">166</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;in trees, <a href="#page203">203</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;in island, <a href="#page319">319</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;in the sea, <a href="#page347">347</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; customs of the Australian aborigines, <a href="#page144">144</a> <i>sqq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;in Tumleo, <a href="#page223">223</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;of the Kai, <a href="#page274">274</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;of the New Caledonians, <a href="#page326">326</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page339">339</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;in New Ireland, <a href="#page397">397</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;in the Duke of York Island, <a href="#page403">403</a>.<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;<i>See also</i> <a href="#index-corpse">Corpse</a>, <a href="#index-grave">Grave</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; -grounds, sacred, <a href="#page378">378</a><br/>
<br/>
Buried alive, old people, <a href="#page359">359</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Burma, <a href="#page75">75</a><br/>
<br/>
Burning and burial of the dead, <a href="#page162">162</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; bodies of women who died in childbed, <a href="#page459">459</a><br/>
<br/>
Burns inflicted on themselves by mourners, <a href="#page154">154</a>, <a href="#page155">155</a>, <a href="#page157">157</a>, <a href="#page327">327</a>, <a href="#page451">451</a><br/>
<br/>
Burnt offerings to the dead, <a href="#page294">294</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; sacrifices, reasons for, <a href="#page348">348</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;to ghosts, <a href="#page366">366</a>, <a href="#page367">367</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page373">373</a><br/>
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page499" id="page499"></a>[pg 499]</span>
<br/>
Burying alive the sick and old, Fijian custom of, <a href="#page420">420</a> <i>sqq.</i><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; people in their birthplaces, <a href="#page160">160</a><br/>
<br/>
Bushmen, <a href="#page65">65</a><br/>
<br/>
<i>Buwun</i>, deities, <a href="#page296">296</a>
</p>

<p>
Caffres of South Africa, their beliefs as to the causes of death, <a href="#page55">55</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Calabar, poison ordeal in, <a href="#page52">52</a><br/>
<br/>
California, Indians of, <a href="#page68">68</a><br/>
<br/>
Calling back a lost soul, <a href="#page312">312</a><br/>
<br/>
Calm and wind produced by weather-doctors, <a href="#page385">385</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Cambridge Anthropological Expedition to Torres Straits, <a href="#page171">171</a>, <a href="#page191">191</a><br/>
<br/>
Canaanites, the heathen, <a href="#page154">154</a><br/>
<br/>
Canadian Indians, burial custom of the, <a href="#page454">454</a><br/>
<br/>
Canarium nuts, first-fruits of, offered to ghosts, <a href="#page368">368</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Cannibal feasts in Fiji, <a href="#page446">446</a><br/>
<br/>
Cannibals fear the ghosts of their victims, <a href="#page396">396</a><br/>
<br/>
Canoe, men sacrificed at launching a new, <a href="#page446">446</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Canoes, Papuan, <a href="#page220">220</a><br/>
<br/>
Cape Bedford in Queensland, <a href="#page129">129</a>, <a href="#page130">130</a>, <a href="#page131">131</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; King William in German New Guinea, <a href="#page218">218</a>, <a href="#page238">238</a><br/>
<br/>
Carnac in Brittany, <a href="#page438">438</a><br/>
<br/>
Catching soul in a scarf, <a href="#page412">412</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Cause, Hume's analysis of, <a href="#page18">18</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Causes, the propensity to search for, <a href="#page17">17</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;two classes of, <a href="#page22">22</a><br/>
<br/>
Caves used as burial-places or charnel-houses, <a href="#page330">330</a> <i>sqq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Celebes, Central, <a href="#page72">72</a><br/>
<br/>
<a name="index-central-australia" id="index-central-australia"></a>Central Australia, aborigines of, their ideas as to natural death, <a href="#page46">46</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;their ideas as to resurrection, <a href="#page68">68</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;their belief in immortality, <a href="#page87">87</a> <i>sqq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;their belief in reincarnation of the dead, <a href="#page92">92</a> <i>sqq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;their attitude towards the dead, <a href="#page124">124</a> <i>sqq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Cereals unknown to Melanesians and Polynesians, <a href="#page408">408</a><br/>
<br/>
Ceremonial impurity of manslayer, <a href="#page229">229</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Ceremonies performed in honour of the Wollunqua, a mythical water-snake, <a href="#page108">108</a> <i>sqq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;dramatic, to commemorate the doings of ancestors, <a href="#page118">118</a> <i>sqq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;funeral, of the Torres Straits Islanders, <a href="#page176">176</a> <i>sqq.</i><br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;<i>See also</i> <a href="#index-dramatic-ceremonies">Dramatic Ceremonies</a>, <a href="#index-dramatic-representation">Dramatic Representations</a>, <a href="#index-funeral-ceremonies">Funeral Ceremonies</a>, <a href="#index-totems">Totems</a><br/>
<br/>
Chameleon in myths of the origin of death, <a href="#page60">60</a> <i>sqq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Chams of Annam, <a href="#page67">67</a><br/>
<br/>
Charms imparted by dead in dreams, <a href="#page139">139</a><br/>
<br/>
Charnel-houses, <a href="#page221">221</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page225">225</a>, <a href="#page328">328</a><br/>
<br/>
Cheating the devil, <a href="#page460">460</a><br/>
<br/>
Chepara, the, <a href="#page139">139</a><br/>
<br/>
Cheremiss of Russia, burial custom of the, <a href="#page457">457</a><br/>
<br/>
Cherokee Indians, <a href="#page77">77</a><br/>
<br/>
Chief, spirit of dead, a worshipful ghost, <a href="#page352">352</a><br/>
<br/>
Chief's power in Central Melanesia based on a fear of ghosts, <a href="#page391">391</a><br/>
<br/>
Chiefs deified after death, <a href="#page369">369</a><br/>
<br/>
Chiefs' authority based on their claim to magical powers, <a href="#page395">395</a><br/>
<br/>
Chieftainship, rise of, <a href="#page141">141</a><br/>
<br/>
Childbed, treatment of ghosts of women dying in, <a href="#page358">358</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;special fear of ghosts of women dying in, <a href="#page458">458</a> <i>sqq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Childless women, burial of, <a href="#page458">458</a><br/>
<br/>
Children, Central Australian theory of the birth of, <a href="#page93">93</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;belief of Queensland natives as to the birth of, <a href="#page128">128</a><br/>
<br/>
Children buried in trees, <a href="#page161">161</a>, <a href="#page312">312</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;stillborn, burial of, <a href="#page458">458</a><br/>
<br/>
Child-stones, <a href="#page93">93</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Chingpaws of Burma, <a href="#page75">75</a><br/>
<br/>
<i>Choi</i>, disembodied human spirits, <a href="#page128">128</a><br/>
<br/>
Chukchansi Indians, <a href="#page163">163</a><br/>
<br/>
<i>Churinga</i>, sacred sticks or stones, <a href="#page96">96</a> <i>sqq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Circumcision as initiatory rite of young men, <a href="#page233">233</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;among the Yabim, <a href="#page250">250</a> <i>sqq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;among the Akikuyu, <a href="#page254">254</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;among the Bukaua, <a href="#page260">260</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;among the Kai, <a href="#page290">290</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;among the Tami, <a href="#page301">301</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;as a propitiatory sacrifice, <a href="#page426">426</a> <i>sqq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Clans, totemic, <a href="#page104">104</a><br/>
<br/>
Clay, widow's body smeared with, <a href="#page223">223</a><br/>
<br/>
Cleanliness due to fear of sorcery, <a href="#page386">386</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page414">414</a><br/>
<br/>
Cleft stick used in cure, <a href="#page271">271</a><br/>
<br/>
Clercq, F. S. A. de, <a href="#page316">316</a><br/>
<br/>
Cloth and weapons offered to ancestral spirits, <a href="#page430">430</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Clubhouses for men, <a href="#page221">221</a>, <a href="#page225">225</a>, <a href="#page226">226</a>, <a href="#page243">243</a>, <a href="#page256">256</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page355">355</a><br/>
<br/>
Cochinchina, <a href="#page74">74</a><br/>
<br/>
Coco-nut trees of dead cut down, <a href="#page208">208</a>, <a href="#page209">209</a>, <a href="#page327">327</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;stones to blight, <a href="#page335">335</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; -nuts tabooed, <a href="#page297">297</a><br/>
<br/>
Codrington, Dr. R. H., <a href="#page54">54</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page344">344</a>, <a href="#page345">345</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page353">353</a>, <a href="#page355">355</a>, <a href="#page359">359</a>, <a href="#page362">362</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page368">368</a>, <a href="#page380">380</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Collins, David, <a href="#page133">133</a><br/>
<br/>
Commemorative and magical ceremonies combined, <a href="#page122">122</a>, <a href="#page126">126</a><br/>
<br/>
Commercial habits of the North Melanesians, <a href="#page394">394</a><br/>
<br/>
Communal houses, <a href="#page304">304</a><br/>
<br/>
Communism, temporary revival of primitive, <a href="#page436">436</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Comparative and descriptive anthropology, their relation, <a href="#page230">230</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page500" id="page500"></a>[pg 500]</span>
<br/>
Comparative method applied to the study of religion, <a href="#page5">5</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;in anthropology, <a href="#page30">30</a><br/>
<br/>
Compartments in land of the dead, <a href="#page244">244</a>, <a href="#page354">354</a>, <a href="#page404">404</a><br/>
<br/>
Competition as a cause of progress, <a href="#page89">89</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Conception in women, Central Australian theory of, <a href="#page93">93</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;belief of Queensland natives concerning, <a href="#page128">128</a><br/>
<br/>
Conception of death, the savage, <a href="#page31">31</a> <i>sqq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Concert of spirits, <a href="#page340">340</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Confession of sins, <a href="#page201">201</a><br/>
<br/>
Congo, natives of the, their ideas as to natural death, <a href="#page50">50</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;worship of the moon on the, <a href="#page68">68</a><br/>
<br/>
Consecration of manslayers in Fiji, <a href="#page448">448</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Consultation of ancestral images, <a href="#page308">308</a> <i>sqq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Continence, required in training yam vines, <a href="#page371">371</a><br/>
<br/>
Continuance of death, myth of the, <a href="#page472">472</a><br/>
<br/>
Contradictions and inconsistencies in reasoning not peculiar to savages, <a href="#page111">111</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Convulsions as evidence of inspiration, <a href="#page443">443</a>, <a href="#page444">444</a><br/>
<br/>
Co-operative system of piety, <a href="#page333">333</a><br/>
<br/>
Coorgs, the, <a href="#page163">163</a><br/>
<br/>
Cord worn round neck by mourners, <a href="#page241">241</a>, <a href="#page242">242</a>, <a href="#page249">249</a>, <a href="#page259">259</a>, <a href="#page361">361</a><br/>
<br/>
<a name="index-corpse" id="index-corpse"></a>Corpse inspected to discover sorcerer, <a href="#page37">37</a>, <a href="#page38">38</a>, <a href="#page53">53</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;dried on fire, <a href="#page135">135</a>, <a href="#page184">184</a>, <a href="#page249">249</a>, <a href="#page313">313</a>, <a href="#page355">355</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;tied to prevent ghost from walking, <a href="#page144">144</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;mauled and mutilated in order to disable the ghost, <a href="#page153">153</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;putrefying juices of, received by mourners on their bodies, <a href="#page167">167</a>, <a href="#page205">205</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;carried out feet foremost, <a href="#page174">174</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;decked with ornaments and flowers, <a href="#page232">232</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;painted white and red, <a href="#page233">233</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;crowned with red roses, <a href="#page233">233</a>, <a href="#page234">234</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;stript of ornaments before burial, <a href="#page234">234</a>, <a href="#page241">241</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;kept in house, <a href="#page355">355</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;property displayed beside the, <a href="#page397">397</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;persons who have handled a corpse forbidden to touch food with their hands, <a href="#page450">450</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;carried out of house by special opening, <a href="#page452">452</a> <i>sqq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Corpses mummified, <a href="#page313">313</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;of women dying in childbed burnt, <a href="#page459">459</a><br/>
<br/>
Costume of mourners, <a href="#page184">184</a>, <a href="#page198">198</a>, <a href="#page241">241</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;of widow and widower, <a href="#page204">204</a><br/>
<br/>
Costumes of actors in dramatic ceremonies concerned with totems, <a href="#page119">119</a> <i>sqq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Crabs in myth of the origin of death, <a href="#page70">70</a><br/>
<br/>
Cracking joints of fingers at incantation, <a href="#page223">223</a><br/>
<br/>
Creator, the, and the origin of death, <a href="#page73">73</a><br/>
<br/>
Crocodiles, transmigration of dead into, <a href="#page245">245</a><br/>
<br/>
Cromlechs, <a href="#page438">438</a><br/>
<br/>
Crops, ghosts expected to make the crops thrive, <a href="#page259">259</a>, <a href="#page284">284</a>, <a href="#page288">288</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Cross-questioning a ghost by means of fire, <a href="#page278">278</a><br/>
<br/>
Cultivation of the ground, spirits of ancestors supposed to help in the, <a href="#page259">259</a><br/>
<br/>
Culture, advance of, among the aborigines of South-Eastern Australia, <a href="#page141">141</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page148">148</a> <i>sq.</i>;
&nbsp;&nbsp;advanced, of the Fijians, <a href="#page407">407</a><br/>
<br/>
Cursing enemies, <a href="#page370">370</a>, <a href="#page403">403</a>, <a href="#page404">404</a><br/>
<br/>
Cutting down trees of the dead, <a href="#page208">208</a>, <a href="#page209">209</a><br/>
<br/>
<a name="index-cuttings" id="index-cuttings"></a>Cuttings of the flesh in honour of the dead, <a href="#page154">154</a> <i>sqq.</i>, <a href="#page183">183</a>, <a href="#page184">184</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page196">196</a>, <a href="#page272">272</a>, <a href="#page327">327</a>, <a href="#page359">359</a>
</p>

<p>
Dance of death, <a href="#page185">185</a> <i>sqq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Dances as funeral rites, <a href="#page179">179</a> <i>sqq.</i>, <a href="#page200">200</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;masked, of the Monumbo, <a href="#page228">228</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;masked, of a Secret Society, <a href="#page233">233</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;at deaths, <a href="#page293">293</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;of masked men in imitation of spirits, <a href="#page297">297</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;at festivals, <a href="#page316">316</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;at festivals of the dead, <a href="#page321">321</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;at funeral feasts, <a href="#page399">399</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; and games at festivals, <a href="#page226">226</a><br/>
<br/>
Dark, ghosts dreaded in the, <a href="#page197">197</a>, <a href="#page283">283</a>, <a href="#page306">306</a>, <a href="#page467">467</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;female mourners remain in the, <a href="#page360">360</a><br/>
<br/>
Daula, a ghost associated with the frigate-bird, <a href="#page376">376</a><br/>
<br/>
Dawson, James, <a href="#page42">42</a>, <a href="#page142">142</a>, <a href="#page143">143</a><br/>
<br/>
Dazing a ghost, <a href="#page416">416</a><br/>
<br/>
<a name="index-dead" id="index-dead"></a>Dead, worship of the, <a href="#page23">23</a> <i>sqq.</i>, <a href="#page31">31</a>, <a href="#page328">328</a> <i>sqq.</i>, <a href="#page338">338</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;seen in dreams, <a href="#page27">27</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;belief in the reincarnation of the, <a href="#page92">92</a> <i>sqq.</i>, <a href="#page107">107</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;spirits of, associated with conspicuous features of the landscape, <a href="#page115">115</a> <i>sqq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;reincarnation of the, <a href="#page124">124</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page127">127</a> <i>sqq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;souls of the, supposed to go to the sky, <a href="#page133">133</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page135">135</a>, <a href="#page138">138</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page141">141</a>, <a href="#page142">142</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;souls of the, supposed to be in stars, <a href="#page134">134</a>, <a href="#page140">140</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;names of the, not mentioned, <a href="#page135">135</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;magical virtue attributed to the hair of the, <a href="#page137">137</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;appear to the living in dreams, <a href="#page139">139</a>, <a href="#page195">195</a>, <a href="#page213">213</a>, <a href="#page229">229</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;attentions paid to the, in regard to food, fire, property, etc., <a href="#page144">144</a> <i>sqq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;property of, deposited in grave, <a href="#page145">145</a> <i>sqq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;motive for destroying the property of the, <a href="#page147">147</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;economic loss entailed by sacrifices to the, <a href="#page149">149</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;incipient worship of the, in Australia, <a href="#page149">149</a>, <a href="#page150">150</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;feared, <a href="#page152">152</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page173">173</a> <i>sqq.</i>, <a href="#page196">196</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page201">201</a>, <a href="#page203">203</a>, <a href="#page244">244</a>, <a href="#page248">248</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;cuttings of the flesh in honour of the, <a href="#page154">154</a> <i>sqq.</i>, <a href="#page183">183</a>, <a href="#page184">184</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page196">196</a>, <a href="#page327">327</a>, <a href="#page359">359</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;thought to be strengthened by blood, <a href="#page159">159</a>;<br/>
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page501" id="page501"></a>[pg 501]</span>
&nbsp;&nbsp;disposed of in different ways according to their age, manner of death, etc., <a href="#page161">161</a> <i>sqq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;fear of the, <a href="#page168">168</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;germs of a worship of the, in Australia, <a href="#page168">168</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;destruction of the property of the, <a href="#page174">174</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;land of the, <a href="#page175">175</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page192">192</a>, <a href="#page193">193</a>, <a href="#page194">194</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page202">202</a>, <a href="#page203">203</a>, <a href="#page207">207</a>, <a href="#page209">209</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page211">211</a> <i>sqq.</i>, <a href="#page224">224</a>, <a href="#page228">228</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page244">244</a>, <a href="#page260">260</a>, <a href="#page286">286</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page292">292</a>, <a href="#page299">299</a>, <a href="#page305">305</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page307">307</a>, <a href="#page322">322</a>, <a href="#page326">326</a>, <a href="#page345">345</a>, <a href="#page350">350</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page353">353</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page404">404</a> <i>sqq.</i>, <a href="#page462">462</a> <i>sqq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;personated by masked men, <a href="#page176">176</a>, <a href="#page179">179</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page182">182</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page185">185</a> <i>sqq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;food offered to the, <a href="#page183">183</a>, <a href="#page211">211</a>, <a href="#page214">214</a>, <a href="#page232">232</a>, <a href="#page241">241</a>, <a href="#page332">332</a>, <a href="#page338">338</a>, <a href="#page348">348</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page364">364</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page367">367</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page372">372</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page396">396</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page429">429</a>, <a href="#page442">442</a>, <a href="#page467">467</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;elements of a worship of the, in Torres Straits, <a href="#page189">189</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;laid on platforms, <a href="#page199">199</a>, <a href="#page203">203</a>, <a href="#page205">205</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;worshipped in British New Guinea, <a href="#page201">201</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;prayers to the, <a href="#page201">201</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page214">214</a>, <a href="#page259">259</a>, <a href="#page288">288</a>, <a href="#page307">307</a>, <a href="#page329">329</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page332">332</a> <i>sqq.</i>, <a href="#page340">340</a>, <a href="#page376">376</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page401">401</a>, <a href="#page403">403</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page427">427</a>, <a href="#page441">441</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;names of, not mentioned, <a href="#page210">210</a>, <a href="#page246">246</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;monuments of the, <a href="#page225">225</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;offerings of hunters and fishers to the, <a href="#page226">226</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;oracles of the, <a href="#page235">235</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;buried in the house, <a href="#page236">236</a>, <a href="#page347">347</a>, <a href="#page352">352</a>, <a href="#page397">397</a>, <a href="#page398">398</a>, <a href="#page399">399</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;offerings to the, <a href="#page239">239</a>, <a href="#page276">276</a>, <a href="#page292">292</a>, <a href="#page298">298</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;transmigrate into animals, <a href="#page242">242</a>, <a href="#page245">245</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;spirits of the, give good crops, <a href="#page247">247</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;elements of a worship of the dead among the Yabim, <a href="#page255">255</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;spirits of the, believed to be mischievous, <a href="#page257">257</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;ancestors supposed to help in the cultivation of the ground, <a href="#page259">259</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;first-fruits offered to the, <a href="#page259">259</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;buried under houses, <a href="#page259">259</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;envious of the living, <a href="#page267">267</a>, <a href="#page381">381</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;burnt offerings to the, <a href="#page294">294</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;predominance of the worship of the, <a href="#page297">297</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;power of the, over the living, <a href="#page298">298</a>, <a href="#page306">306</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page307">307</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;sacrifices to the, <a href="#page307">307</a>, <a href="#page338">338</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;wooden images (<i>korwar</i>) of the, <a href="#page307">307</a> <i>sqq.</i>, <a href="#page315">315</a>, <a href="#page316">316</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page321">321</a>, <a href="#page322">322</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;buried in island, <a href="#page319">319</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;festival of the, <a href="#page320">320</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;medicine-men, inspired by spirits of the, <a href="#page322">322</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;spirits of the, embodied in their skulls, <a href="#page338">338</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;spirits of the, identified with white men, <a href="#page342">342</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;buried in the sea, <a href="#page347">347</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page397">397</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;relics of the, preserved, <a href="#page348">348</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;bodies of the, preserved for a time in the house, <a href="#page351">351</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;represented by wooden stocks, <a href="#page374">374</a>, <a href="#page386">386</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;burned in New Ireland, <a href="#page397">397</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;carried out of house by special opening, <a href="#page452">452</a> <i>sqq.</i><br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;<i>See also</i> <a href="#index-ghost">Ghost</a><br/>
<br/>
Dead kings of Uganda consulted as oracles, <a href="#page151">151</a><br/>
<br/>
Death, the problem of, <a href="#page31">31</a> <i>sqq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;the savage conception of, <a href="#page31">31</a> <i>sqq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;thought to be an effect of sorcery, <a href="#page33">33</a> <i>sqq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;by natural causes, recognised by some savages, <a href="#page55">55</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;myths of the origin of, <a href="#page59">59</a> <i>sqq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;personified in tales, <a href="#page79">79</a> <i>sqq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;not regarded as a natural necessity, <a href="#page84">84</a> <i>sqq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;the second, of the dead, <a href="#page195">195</a>, <a href="#page286">286</a>, <a href="#page299">299</a>, <a href="#page345">345</a>, <a href="#page350">350</a>, <a href="#page351">351</a>, <a href="#page354">354</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;attributed to sorcery, <a href="#page249">249</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;violent, ascribed to sorcery, <a href="#page268">268</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;myth of the continuance of, <a href="#page472">472</a><br/>
<br/>
Death and resurrection at initiation, ceremony of, <a href="#page431">431</a>, <a href="#page434">434</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;pretence of, at initiation, <a href="#page254">254</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page261">261</a>, <a href="#page302">302</a><br/>
<br/>
Death-dances, <a href="#page293">293</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;of the Torres Straits Islanders, <a href="#page179">179</a> <i>sqq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Deaths from natural causes, disbelief of savages in, <a href="#page33">33</a> <i>sqq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;attributed to sorcery, <a href="#page136">136</a>, <a href="#page203">203</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;set down to sorcery or ghosts, <a href="#page203">203</a>, <a href="#page268">268</a>, <a href="#page270">270</a><br/>
<br/>
Deceiving the ghost, <a href="#page237">237</a>, <a href="#page273">273</a>, <a href="#page280">280</a> <i>sqq.</i>, <a href="#page328">328</a><br/>
<br/>
Deceiving the spirits, <a href="#page298">298</a><br/>
<br/>
Deification of the dead, <a href="#page24">24</a>, <a href="#page25">25</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;of parents, <a href="#page439">439</a><br/>
<br/>
Deity consumes soul of offering, <a href="#page297">297</a><br/>
<br/>
Demon carries off soul of sick, <a href="#page194">194</a><br/>
<br/>
Demons as causes of disease and death, <a href="#page36">36</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Demonstrations, extravagant, of grief at a death, dictated by fear of the ghost, <a href="#page271">271</a> <i>sqq.</i><br/>
<br/>
D&eacute;n&eacute; or Tinneh Indians, their ideas as to death, <a href="#page39">39</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Departure of ghost thought to coincide with disappearance of flesh from bones, <a href="#page165">165</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Descent of the living into the nether world, <a href="#page300">300</a>, <a href="#page355">355</a><br/>
<br/>
Descriptive and comparative anthropology, their relation, <a href="#page230">230</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Descriptive method in anthropology, <a href="#page30">30</a><br/>
<br/>
Desertion of house after a death, <a href="#page195">195</a>, <a href="#page196">196</a> <i>n.</i> <a href="#footnote318">1</a>, <a href="#page210">210</a>, <a href="#page248">248</a>, <a href="#page275">275</a>, <a href="#page349">349</a>, <a href="#page400">400</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;of village after a death, <a href="#page275">275</a><br/>
<br/>
Deserts as impediments to progress, <a href="#page89">89</a>, <a href="#page90">90</a><br/>
<br/>
Design emblematic of totem, <a href="#page168">168</a><br/>
<br/>
Destruction of house after a death, <a href="#page210">210</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; of life and property entailed by the belief in immortality, <a href="#page468">468</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; of property of the dead, <a href="#page174">174</a>, <a href="#page459">459</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;motive for, <a href="#page147">147</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page327">327</a><br/>
<br/>
Development arrested or retarded in savagery, <a href="#page88">88</a> <i>sqq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Dieri, the, <a href="#page138">138</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;their burial customs, <a href="#page144">144</a><br/>
<br/>
Differentiation of function in prayer, <a href="#page332">332</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Disbelief of savages in death from natural causes, <a href="#page34">34</a> <i>sqq.</i><br/>
<br/>
<a name="index-disease" id="index-disease"></a>Disease supposed to be caused by sorcery, <a href="#page35">35</a> <i>sqq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;demons regarded as causes of, <a href="#page36">36</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;recognised by some savages as due to natural causes, <a href="#page55">55</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;special modes of disposing of bodies of persons who die of, <a href="#page162">162</a>, <a href="#page163">163</a>.<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;<i>See also</i> <a href="#index-sickness">Sickness</a><br/>
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page502" id="page502"></a>[pg 502]</span>
<br/>
Diseases ascribed to ghosts, <a href="#page257">257</a><br/>
<br/>
Disinterment of the bones of the dead, <a href="#page225">225</a>, <a href="#page294">294</a><br/>
<br/>
Dissection of corpse to discover cause of death, <a href="#page53">53</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Divination to discover cause of death, <a href="#page35">35</a>, <a href="#page36">36</a>, <a href="#page37">37</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page38">38</a>, <a href="#page39">39</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page44">44</a>, <a href="#page45">45</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page50">50</a> <i>sqq.</i>, <a href="#page53">53</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page136">136</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;by liver, <a href="#page54">54</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;by dreams, <a href="#page136">136</a>, <a href="#page383">383</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;by the skulls of the dead, <a href="#page179">179</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;to discover sorcerer who caused death, <a href="#page240">240</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page249">249</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page257">257</a>, <a href="#page402">402</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;by bow, <a href="#page241">241</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;by hair to discover cause of death, <a href="#page319">319</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;by means of ghosts, <a href="#page389">389</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;to discover ghost who has caused sickness, <a href="#page382">382</a><br/>
<br/>
Divinity of kings, <a href="#page16">16</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;of Fijian kings, <a href="#page407">407</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;Fijian notion of, <a href="#page440">440</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Dog, in myth of the origin of death, <a href="#page66">66</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;the Heavenly, <a href="#page460">460</a><br/>
<br/>
Dogs sacrificed to the dead, <a href="#page232">232</a>, <a href="#page234">234</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;sacrificed in epidemics, <a href="#page296">296</a><br/>
<br/>
Doreh Bay in Dutch New Guinea, <a href="#page303">303</a>, <a href="#page306">306</a><br/>
<br/>
Dragon supposed to swallow lads at initiation, <a href="#page301">301</a>.<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;<i>See also</i> <a href="#index-monster">Monster</a><br/>
<br/>
Drama of death and resurrection at initiation, <a href="#page431">431</a>, <a href="#page434">434</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash;, evolution of, <a href="#page189">189</a><br/>
<br/>
<a name="index-dramatic-ceremonies" id="index-dramatic-ceremonies"></a>Dramatic ceremonies in Central Australia, magical intention of, <a href="#page122">122</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page126">126</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; concerned with totems, <a href="#page119">119</a> <i>sqq.</i><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; to commemorate the doings of ancestors, <a href="#page118">118</a> <i>sqq.</i><br/>
<br/>
<a name="index-dramatic-representation" id="index-dramatic-representation"></a>Dramatic representation of ghosts and spirits by masked men, <a href="#page176">176</a>, <a href="#page179">179</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page180">180</a> <i>sqq.</i>, <a href="#page185">185</a> <i>sqq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Drawings on ground in religious or magical ceremony, <a href="#page112">112</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; on rocks, <a href="#page318">318</a><br/>
<br/>
Dread of witchcraft, <a href="#page413">413</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Dreamer, professional, <a href="#page383">383</a><br/>
<br/>
Dreams as a source of the belief in immortality and of the worship of the dead, <a href="#page27">27</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page214">214</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;divination by, <a href="#page136">136</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;appearance of the dead to the living in, <a href="#page139">139</a>, <a href="#page195">195</a>, <a href="#page213">213</a>, <a href="#page229">229</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;savage faith in the truth of, <a href="#page139">139</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;consultation of the dead in, <a href="#page179">179</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;danger of, <a href="#page194">194</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;the dead communicate with the living in, <a href="#page248">248</a><br/>
<br/>
Driving away the ghost, <a href="#page178">178</a>, <a href="#page197">197</a>, <a href="#page248">248</a>, <a href="#page305">305</a>, <a href="#page306">306</a>, <a href="#page323">323</a>, <a href="#page356">356</a> <i>sqq.</i>, <a href="#page396">396</a>, <a href="#page399">399</a>, <a href="#page415">415</a><br/>
<br/>
Drowning of ghosts, <a href="#page224">224</a><br/>
<br/>
Duke of York Island, <a href="#page393">393</a>, <a href="#page397">397</a>, <a href="#page403">403</a>, <a href="#page404">404</a><br/>
<br/>
Dying, threats of the, <a href="#page273">273</a>
</p>

<p>
Ears of corpse stopped with hot coals, <a href="#page152">152</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;of mourners cut, <a href="#page183">183</a>, <a href="#page272">272</a>, <a href="#page327">327</a><br/>
<br/>
Earth-burial and tree-burial, <a href="#page161">161</a>, <a href="#page166">166</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Earthquakes ascribed to ghosts, <a href="#page286">286</a>, <a href="#page288">288</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;caused by deities, <a href="#page296">296</a><br/>
<br/>
Eating totemic animals or plants, <a href="#page120">120</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Economic loss entailed by sacrifices to the dead, <a href="#page149">149</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;entailed by the belief in immortality, <a href="#page468">468</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Eel, ghost in, <a href="#page379">379</a><br/>
<br/>
Eels offered to the dead, <a href="#page429">429</a><br/>
<br/>
Egypt, custom at embalming a corpse in ancient, <a href="#page178">178</a><br/>
<br/>
Elysium, the Fijian, <a href="#page466">466</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Embryology of religion, <a href="#page88">88</a><br/>
<br/>
Emu totem, dramatic ceremonies concerned with, <a href="#page122">122</a>, <a href="#page123">123</a><br/>
<br/>
Encounter Bay tribe of South Australia, <a href="#page42">42</a><br/>
<br/>
<a name="index-epilepsy" id="index-epilepsy"></a>Epilepsy ascribed to anger of ghosts, <a href="#page257">257</a>, <a href="#page283">283</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; and inspiration, <a href="#page15">15</a><br/>
<br/>
Erdweg, Father Josef, <a href="#page218">218</a>, <a href="#page219">219</a>, <a href="#page227">227</a><br/>
<br/>
Erskine, Capt. J. E., <a href="#page409">409</a><br/>
<br/>
<i>Ertnatulunga</i>, sacred store-house, <a href="#page99">99</a><br/>
<br/>
<i>Erythrophloeum guiniense</i>, in poison ordeal, <a href="#page50">50</a><br/>
<br/>
Esquimaux, burial custom of the, <a href="#page454">454</a>, <a href="#page456">456</a><br/>
<br/>
Essence, immaterial, of sacrifice absorbed by ghosts and spirits, <a href="#page285">285</a>, <a href="#page287">287</a>, <a href="#page374">374</a><br/>
<br/>
Euhemerism, <a href="#page24">24</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Euhemerus, <a href="#page24">24</a><br/>
<br/>
European teaching, influence of, on native beliefs, <a href="#page142">142</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Evil spirits regarded as causes of death, <a href="#page36">36</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Excitement as mark of inspiration, <a href="#page14">14</a><br/>
<br/>
Exogamy with female descent, <a href="#page416">416</a>, <a href="#page418">418</a><br/>
<br/>
Exorcism as cure for sickness, <a href="#page222">222</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Experience defined, <a href="#page12">12</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;two sorts of, <a href="#page13">13</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; and intuition, <a href="#page11">11</a><br/>
<br/>
External world, question of the reality of, <a href="#page13">13</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;an illusion, <a href="#page21">21</a><br/>
<br/>
Eye, soul resides in the, <a href="#page267">267</a><br/>
<br/>
Eyes of corpse bandaged, <a href="#page459">459</a>
</p>

<p>
Faints ascribed to action of ghosts, <a href="#page257">257</a>, <a href="#page283">283</a><br/>
<br/>
Faith, weakening of religious, <a href="#page4">4</a><br/>
<br/>
Falling stars the souls of the dead, <a href="#page229">229</a>, <a href="#page399">399</a><br/>
<br/>
Family prayers of the New Caledonians, <a href="#page332">332</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page340">340</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; priests, <a href="#page332">332</a>, <a href="#page340">340</a><br/>
<br/>
Famine, the stone of, <a href="#page334">334</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Fasting in mourning for a king, <a href="#page451">451</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Father-in-law, mourning for a, <a href="#page155">155</a><br/>
<br/>
Favourable natural conditions, their influence in stimulating social progress, <a href="#page141">141</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page148">148</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Fear of ghosts, <a href="#page134">134</a>, <a href="#page135">135</a>, <a href="#page147">147</a>, <a href="#page151">151</a> <i>sqq.</i>, <a href="#page158">158</a>, <a href="#page173">173</a> <i>sqq.</i>, <a href="#page195">195</a>, <a href="#page196">196</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page201">201</a>, <a href="#page203">203</a>, <a href="#page229">229</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page232">232</a>, <a href="#page237">237</a>, <a href="#page276">276</a>, <a href="#page282">282</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page305">305</a>, <a href="#page321">321</a>, <a href="#page327">327</a>, <a href="#page347">347</a>, <a href="#page396">396</a>, <a href="#page414">414</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page449">449</a>, <a href="#page455">455</a>, <a href="#page467">467</a>;<br/>
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page503" id="page503"></a>[pg 503]</span>
&nbsp;&nbsp;a moral restraint, <a href="#page175">175</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;the source of extravagant demonstrations of grief at death, <a href="#page271">271</a> <i>sqq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;taboo based on, <a href="#page390">390</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;a bulwark of morality, <a href="#page392">392</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;funeral customs based on, <a href="#page450">450</a> <i>sqq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;of women dying in childbed, <a href="#page458">458</a> <i>sqq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Fear of the dead, <a href="#page152">152</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page168">168</a>, <a href="#page173">173</a> <i>sqq.</i>, <a href="#page195">195</a>, <a href="#page196">196</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page201">201</a>, <a href="#page203">203</a>, <a href="#page244">244</a>, <a href="#page248">248</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; of witchcraft, <a href="#page244">244</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; the only principle of religious observances in Fiji, <a href="#page443">443</a><br/>
<br/>
Feasts provided for ghosts, <a href="#page247">247</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;<i>See also</i> <a href="#index-funeral-feasts">Funeral Feasts</a><br/>
<br/>
Feather-money offered to ghosts, <a href="#page374">374</a>, <a href="#page375">375</a><br/>
<br/>
Feet foremost, corpse carried out, <a href="#page174">174</a><br/>
<br/>
<a name="index-ferry" id="index-ferry"></a>Ferry for ghosts, <a href="#page224">224</a>, <a href="#page244">244</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page350">350</a>, <a href="#page412">412</a>, <a href="#page462">462</a><br/>
<br/>
Festival of the dead, <a href="#page320">320</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Fig-trees, sacred, <a href="#page199">199</a><br/>
<br/>
Fighting or warrior ghosts, <a href="#page370">370</a><br/>
<br/>
Fiji and the Fijians, <a href="#page406">406</a> <i>sqq.</i><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash;, human sacrifices in, <a href="#page446">446</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Fijian islands, scenery of, <a href="#page409">409</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; myths of origin of death, <a href="#page66">66</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page75">75</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Fijians, belief in immortality among the, <a href="#page406">406</a> <i>sqq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;their advanced culture, <a href="#page407">407</a><br/>
<br/>
Fingers amputated in mourning, <a href="#page199">199</a>, <a href="#page451">451</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; of living sacrificed in honour of the dead, <a href="#page426">426</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Finsch Harbour in German New Guinea, <a href="#page218">218</a>, <a href="#page242">242</a>, <a href="#page262">262</a><br/>
<br/>
Fire as a means of keeping off ghosts, <a href="#page131">131</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; -flies, ghosts as, <a href="#page352">352</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; kindled on grave, to warm ghost, <a href="#page144">144</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page196">196</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page209">209</a>, <a href="#page211">211</a>, <a href="#page223">223</a>, <a href="#page275">275</a>, <a href="#page359">359</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; supplied to ghost, <a href="#page246">246</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;used to keep off ghosts, <a href="#page258">258</a>, <a href="#page283">283</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;used in cross-questioning a ghost, <a href="#page278">278</a><br/>
<br/>
Firstborn children, skull-topped images made of dead, <a href="#page312">312</a><br/>
<br/>
First-fruits offered to the dead, <a href="#page259">259</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;of canarium nuts offered to ghosts, <a href="#page368">368</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;offered to deified spirits of dead chiefs, <a href="#page369">369</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;offered to ghosts, <a href="#page373">373</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;of yams offered to the ancestral spirits, <a href="#page429">429</a><br/>
<br/>
Fish offered by fishermen to the dead, <a href="#page226">226</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;prayers for, <a href="#page329">329</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;ghost in, <a href="#page379">379</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; totem, dramatic ceremony concerned with, <a href="#page119">119</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page121">121</a><br/>
<br/>
Fishermen pray to ghosts, <a href="#page289">289</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash;, stones to help, <a href="#page337">337</a><br/>
<br/>
Fison, Lorimer, <a href="#page407">407</a>, <a href="#page412">412</a>, <a href="#page416">416</a>, <a href="#page418">418</a>, <a href="#page428">428</a> <i>n.</i> <a href="#footnote691">1</a>, <a href="#page434">434</a>, <a href="#page435">435</a> <i>sqq.</i>, <a href="#page438">438</a> <i>n.</i> <a href="#footnote697">1</a>, <a href="#page445">445</a>, <a href="#page448">448</a><br/>
<br/>
Fits ascribed to contact with ghosts, <a href="#page283">283</a>.<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;<i>See also</i> <a href="#index-epilepsy">Epilepsy</a><br/>
<br/>
Florida, one of the Solomon Islands, <a href="#page346">346</a>, <a href="#page347">347</a>, <a href="#page348">348</a>, <a href="#page349">349</a>, <a href="#page367">367</a>, <a href="#page368">368</a>, <a href="#page376">376</a>, <a href="#page377">377</a>, <a href="#page379">379</a>, <a href="#page380">380</a><br/>
<br/>
Flutes, sacred, <a href="#page221">221</a>, <a href="#page226">226</a>, <a href="#page233">233</a>, <a href="#page252">252</a><br/>
<br/>
Flying-foxes, souls of the dead in, <a href="#page405">405</a><br/>
<br/>
Food placed on grave, <a href="#page144">144</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;offered to the dead, <a href="#page183">183</a>, <a href="#page201">201</a>, <a href="#page208">208</a>, <a href="#page211">211</a>, <a href="#page214">214</a>, <a href="#page232">232</a>, <a href="#page241">241</a>, <a href="#page332">332</a>, <a href="#page338">338</a>, <a href="#page364">364</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page367">367</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page372">372</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page396">396</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page429">429</a>, <a href="#page442">442</a>, <a href="#page467">467</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;abstinence from certain, in mourning, <a href="#page198">198</a>, <a href="#page208">208</a>, <a href="#page209">209</a>, <a href="#page230">230</a>, <a href="#page314">314</a>, <a href="#page360">360</a>, <a href="#page452">452</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;supply promoted by ghosts, <a href="#page283">283</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;offered to ancestral spirits, <a href="#page316">316</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;offered to the skulls of the dead, <a href="#page339">339</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page352">352</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;offered to ghosts, <a href="#page348">348</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;of ghosts, the living not to partake of the, <a href="#page355">355</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; not to be touched with the hands by gravediggers, <a href="#page327">327</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;not to be touched with hands by persons who have handled a corpse, <a href="#page450">450</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; and water, abundance of, favourable to social progress, <a href="#page90">90</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;offered to the dead, <a href="#page174">174</a><br/>
<br/>
Fool and Death, <a href="#page83">83</a><br/>
<br/>
Footprints, magic of, <a href="#page45">45</a><br/>
<br/>
Foundation-sacrifice of men, <a href="#page446">446</a><br/>
<br/>
Fowlers pray to ghosts, <a href="#page289">289</a><br/>
<br/>
Frenzy a symptom of inspiration, <a href="#page443">443</a>, <a href="#page444">444</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Frigate-bird, mark of the, <a href="#page350">350</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;ghost associated with the, <a href="#page376">376</a><br/>
<br/>
Frigate-birds, ghosts in, <a href="#page380">380</a><br/>
<br/>
Frog in stories of the origin of death, <a href="#page61">61</a>, <a href="#page62">62</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Fruit-trees cut down for ghost, <a href="#page246">246</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; of the dead cut down, <a href="#page399">399</a><br/>
<br/>
<a name="index-funeral-ceremonies" id="index-funeral-ceremonies"></a>Funeral ceremonies intended to dismiss the ghost from the land of the living, <a href="#page174">174</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; ceremonies of the Torres Straits Islanders, <a href="#page176">176</a> <i>sqq.</i><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; customs of the Tami, <a href="#page293">293</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;of the Central Melanesians, <a href="#page347">347</a> <i>sqq.</i>, <a href="#page355">355</a> <i>sqq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;based on fear of ghosts, <a href="#page450">450</a> <i>sqq.</i><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; <a name="index-funeral-feasts" id="index-funeral-feasts"></a>feasts, <a href="#page348">348</a>, <a href="#page351">351</a>, <a href="#page358">358</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page360">360</a>, <a href="#page396">396</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;orations, <a href="#page355">355</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Forces, impersonal, the world conceived as a complex of, <a href="#page21">21</a><br/>
<br/>
Foreskins sacrificed in honour of the dead, <a href="#page426">426</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;of circumcised lads presented to ancestral gods, <a href="#page427">427</a>
</p>

<p>
Gaboon, the, <a href="#page54">54</a><br/>
<br/>
Gajos of Sumatra, burial custom of the, <a href="#page455">455</a><br/>
<br/>
Gall used in divination, <a href="#page54">54</a><br/>
<br/>
Game offered by hunters to the dead, <a href="#page226">226</a><br/>
<br/>
Ganindo, a warrior ghost, <a href="#page363">363</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Gardens, ghosts of, <a href="#page371">371</a><br/>
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page504" id="page504"></a>[pg 504]</span>
<br/>
Gazelle Peninsula, New Britain, <a href="#page48">48</a>, <a href="#page69">69</a>, <a href="#page398">398</a>, <a href="#page405">405</a><br/>
<br/>
Geelvink Bay, in Dutch New Guinea, <a href="#page303">303</a>, <a href="#page307">307</a><br/>
<br/>
Genital members of human victims hung on tree, <a href="#page447">447</a> <i>n.</i> <a href="#footnote715">1</a><br/>
<br/>
German burial custom, <a href="#page453">453</a>, <a href="#page458">458</a><br/>
<br/>
<a name="index-ghost" id="index-ghost"></a>Ghost appeased by sham fight, <a href="#page137">137</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;hunted into the grave, <a href="#page164">164</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;thought to linger near body till flesh is decayed, <a href="#page165">165</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;elaborate funeral ceremonies designed to get rid of, <a href="#page174">174</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;driven away, <a href="#page178">178</a>, <a href="#page197">197</a>, <a href="#page248">248</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;extracted from body of patient, <a href="#page271">271</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;calls for vengeance, <a href="#page278">278</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;cursed and ill-treated, <a href="#page285">285</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;who causes sunshine and rain, <a href="#page375">375</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; -posts, <a href="#page375">375</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; -seer, <a href="#page204">204</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page214">214</a>, <a href="#page229">229</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; -shooter, <a href="#page387">387</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Ghostly ferry, <a href="#page350">350</a>, <a href="#page412">412</a>.<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;<i>See also</i> <a href="#index-ferry">Ferry</a><br/>
<br/>
Ghosts, mischievous nature of, <a href="#page28">28</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;as causes of sickness, <a href="#page54">54</a> <i>sqq.</i>, <a href="#page195">195</a>, <a href="#page197">197</a>, <a href="#page222">222</a>, <a href="#page300">300</a>, <a href="#page305">305</a>, <a href="#page322">322</a>, <a href="#page389">389</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;feared, <a href="#page134">134</a>, <a href="#page135">135</a>, <a href="#page147">147</a>, <a href="#page151">151</a> <i>sqq.</i>, <a href="#page158">158</a>, <a href="#page173">173</a> <i>sqq.</i>, <a href="#page195">195</a>, <a href="#page196">196</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page201">201</a>, <a href="#page203">203</a>, <a href="#page229">229</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page232">232</a>, <a href="#page237">237</a>, <a href="#page271">271</a> <i>sqq.</i>, <a href="#page276">276</a>, <a href="#page282">282</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page305">305</a>, <a href="#page321">321</a>, <a href="#page327">327</a>, <a href="#page347">347</a>, <a href="#page396">396</a>, <a href="#page414">414</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page449">449</a>, <a href="#page457">457</a>, <a href="#page467">467</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;attentions paid to, in regard to food, fire, property, etc., <a href="#page144">144</a> <i>sqq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;feared only of recently departed, <a href="#page151">151</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;of nearest relations most feared, <a href="#page153">153</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;represented dramatically by masked men, <a href="#page176">176</a>, <a href="#page179">179</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page182">182</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page185">185</a> <i>sqq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;should have their noses bored, <a href="#page192">192</a>, <a href="#page194">194</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;return of the, <a href="#page195">195</a>, <a href="#page198">198</a>, <a href="#page246">246</a>, <a href="#page300">300</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;carry off the souls of the living, <a href="#page197">197</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;cause bad luck in hunting and fishing, <a href="#page197">197</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;identified with phosphorescent lights, <a href="#page198">198</a>, <a href="#page258">258</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;appear to seer, <a href="#page204">204</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;of slain enemies especially dreaded, <a href="#page205">205</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;of the hanged specially feared, <a href="#page212">212</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;certain classes of ghosts specially feared, <a href="#page212">212</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;malignity of, <a href="#page212">212</a>, <a href="#page381">381</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;drowned, <a href="#page224">224</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;village of, <a href="#page231">231</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page234">234</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;give information, <a href="#page240">240</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;provided with fire, <a href="#page246">246</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;feasts provided for, <a href="#page247">247</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;thought to give good crops, <a href="#page247">247</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;communicate with the living in dreams, <a href="#page248">248</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;diseases ascribed to action of, <a href="#page257">257</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;of the slain, special fear of, <a href="#page258">258</a>, <a href="#page279">279</a>, <a href="#page306">306</a>, <a href="#page323">323</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;of ancestors appealed to for help, <a href="#page258">258</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;precautions taken against, <a href="#page258">258</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;expected to make the crops thrive, <a href="#page259">259</a>, <a href="#page284">284</a>, <a href="#page288">288</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;natural death ascribed to action of, <a href="#page268">268</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;sickness ascribed to action of, <a href="#page269">269</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page271">271</a>, <a href="#page279">279</a>, <a href="#page372">372</a>, <a href="#page375">375</a>, <a href="#page381">381</a> <i>sqq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;deceived, <a href="#page273">273</a>, <a href="#page280">280</a> <i>sqq.</i>, <a href="#page328">328</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;thought to help hunters, <a href="#page274">274</a>, <a href="#page284">284</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;in the form of animals, <a href="#page282">282</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;help the living by promoting supply of food, <a href="#page283">283</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;cause earthquakes, <a href="#page286">286</a>, <a href="#page288">288</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;as patrons of hunting and other departments, <a href="#page287">287</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;die the second death, <a href="#page287">287</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;turn into animals, <a href="#page287">287</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;turn into ant-hills, <a href="#page287">287</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;of warriors invoked by warriors, <a href="#page288">288</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;invoked by warriors, farmers, fowlers, fishermen, etc., <a href="#page288">288</a> <i>sqq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;of men may grow into gods, <a href="#page289">289</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;of the dead in the form of serpents, <a href="#page300">300</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;driven away, <a href="#page305">305</a>, <a href="#page306">306</a>, <a href="#page323">323</a>, <a href="#page356">356</a> <i>sqq.</i>, <a href="#page396">396</a>, <a href="#page399">399</a>, <a href="#page415">415</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;cause all sorts of misfortunes, <a href="#page306">306</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;call for vengeance, <a href="#page310">310</a>, <a href="#page468">468</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;sacrifices to, <a href="#page328">328</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;of power and ghosts of no account, distinction between, <a href="#page345">345</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;of the recent dead most powerful, <a href="#page346">346</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;prayers to, <a href="#page348">348</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;of land and sea, <a href="#page348">348</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;food offered to, <a href="#page348">348</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;live in islands, <a href="#page350">350</a>, <a href="#page353">353</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;live underground, <a href="#page353">353</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;worshipful, <a href="#page362">362</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;public and private, <a href="#page367">367</a>, <a href="#page369">369</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;first-fruits offered to, <a href="#page368">368</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page373">373</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;warlike, <a href="#page370">370</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;of gardens, <a href="#page371">371</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;human sacrifices to, <a href="#page371">371</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;incarnate in sharks, <a href="#page373">373</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;sacrifices to, at planting, <a href="#page375">375</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;sanctuaries of, <a href="#page377">377</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;incarnate in animals, <a href="#page379">379</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;envious of the living, <a href="#page381">381</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;carry off souls, <a href="#page383">383</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;in stones, <a href="#page383">383</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;inspiration by means of, <a href="#page389">389</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;killed, <a href="#page415">415</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;dazed, <a href="#page416">416</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;prevented from returning to the house, <a href="#page455">455</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;unmarried, hard fate of, <a href="#page464">464</a><br/>
<br/>
Ghosts and spirits, distinction between, in Central Melanesia, <a href="#page343">343</a>, <a href="#page363">363</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;regulate the weather, <a href="#page384">384</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; of women dying in childbed, special fear of, <a href="#page458">458</a> <i>sqq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;special treatment of, <a href="#page358">358</a>.<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;<i>See also</i> <a href="#index-dead">Dead</a> <i>and</i> <a href="#index-spirits">Spirits</a><br/>
<br/>
Giant, mythical, thought to appear annually with the south-east monsoon, <a href="#page255">255</a><br/>
<br/>
Gifford, Lord, <a href="#page2">2</a>, <a href="#page3">3</a><br/>
<br/>
Girdle made from hair of dead, <a href="#page138">138</a><br/>
<br/>
Gnanji, the, of Central Australia, <a href="#page92">92</a><br/>
<br/>
Goat in story of the origin of death, <a href="#page64">64</a><br/>
<br/>
God, the question of his existence, <a href="#page2">2</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;defined, <a href="#page9">9</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;knowledge of, how acquired, <a href="#page11">11</a> <i>sqq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;inferred as a cause, <a href="#page22">22</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;and the origin of death, <a href="#page61">61</a> <i>sqq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;in form of serpent, <a href="#page445">445</a>, <a href="#page462">462</a><br/>
<br/>
Gods created by man in his own likeness, <a href="#page19">19</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;of nature, <a href="#page20">20</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;human, <a href="#page20">20</a>, <a href="#page23">23</a> <i>sqq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;unknown among aborigines of Australia, <a href="#page91">91</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;often developed out of ghosts, <a href="#page289">289</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;ancestors worshipped as, <a href="#page340">340</a>, <a href="#page369">369</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;ancestral, sacrifice of foreskins to, <a href="#page427">427</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;ancestral, libations to, <a href="#page438">438</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;two classes of, in Fiji, <a href="#page440">440</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; and spirits, no certain demarcation between, <a href="#page441">441</a><br/>
<br/>
Goldie, Rev. Hugh, <a href="#page52">52</a><br/>
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page505" id="page505"></a>[pg 505]</span>
<br/>
Good crops given by ghosts, <a href="#page247">247</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; spirit, <a href="#page143">143</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; and bad, different fate of the, after death, <a href="#page354">354</a><br/>
<br/>
Gran Chaco, in Argentina, <a href="#page165">165</a><br/>
<br/>
Grandfather, soul of, reborn in grandchild, <a href="#page417">417</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;his ghost dazed, <a href="#page416">416</a><br/>
<br/>
Grandfather and grandchild, their relation under exogamy and female kinship, <a href="#page416">416</a>, <a href="#page418">418</a><br/>
<br/>
Grandidier, A., <a href="#page49">49</a><br/>
<br/>
Grass for graves, euphemism for human victims buried with the dead, <a href="#page425">425</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; -seed, magical ceremony for increasing, <a href="#page102">102</a><br/>
<br/>
<a name="index-grave" id="index-grave"></a>Grave, food placed on, <a href="#page144">144</a>, <a href="#page145">145</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;property of dead deposited in, <a href="#page145">145</a> <i>sqq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;hut erected on, <a href="#page203">203</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;of worshipful dead a sanctuary, <a href="#page347">347</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;stones heaped on, <a href="#page360">360</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;sacrifices to ghost on, <a href="#page382">382</a><br/>
<br/>
Gravediggers, purification of, <a href="#page314">314</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;secluded, <a href="#page327">327</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;secluded and painted black, <a href="#page451">451</a><br/>
<br/>
Graves, huts built on, for use of ghosts, <a href="#page150">150</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;under the houses, <a href="#page274">274</a>.<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;<i>See also</i> <a href="#index-huts">Huts</a><br/>
<br/>
Great Woman, the, <a href="#page464">464</a><br/>
<br/>
Greek tragedy, W. Ridgeway on the origin of, <a href="#page189">189</a><br/>
<br/>
Greeks, purificatory rites of ancient, <a href="#page206">206</a><br/>
<br/>
Greenlanders, burial custom of the, <a href="#page454">454</a><br/>
<br/>
Grey, Sir George, <a href="#page41">41</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;taken for an Australian aboriginal, <a href="#page131">131</a> <i>sqq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Grief, extravagant demonstrations of grief in mourning, their motives, <a href="#page135">135</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; at a death, extravagant demonstrations of, dictated by fear of the ghost, <a href="#page271">271</a> <i>sqq.</i><br/>
<br/>
<i>Grihya-Sutras</i>, <a href="#page163">163</a><br/>
<br/>
Ground drawings in magical or religious ceremony, <a href="#page112">112</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Groves, sacred, the dead buried in, <a href="#page326">326</a><br/>
<br/>
Guadalcanar, one of the Solomon Islands, <a href="#page350">350</a>, <a href="#page372">372</a><br/>
<br/>
Guardian spirits, <a href="#page227">227</a><br/>
<br/>
Guiana, Indians of, their ideas as to the cause of death, <a href="#page35">35</a> <i>sqq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;their offerings to the dead, <a href="#page165">165</a><br/>
<br/>
Gullet of pig sacrificed, <a href="#page368">368</a><br/>
<br/>
Gulu, king of heaven, <a href="#page78">78</a><br/>
<br/>
Gypsies, European, burial custom of, <a href="#page455">455</a>
</p>

<p>
Haddon, Dr. A. C., <a href="#page171">171</a>, <a href="#page172">172</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page175">175</a>, <a href="#page176">176</a>, <a href="#page180">180</a><br/>
<br/>
Hagen, Dr. B., <a href="#page230">230</a>, <a href="#page231">231</a><br/>
<br/>
Haida, burial custom of the, <a href="#page455">455</a><br/>
<br/>
Hair burnt as charm, <a href="#page43">43</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;cut in mourning, <a href="#page135">135</a>, <a href="#page320">320</a>, <a href="#page451">451</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;of widow unshorn, <a href="#page184">184</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;of dead child worn by mother, <a href="#page315">315</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;of gravediggers not cut, <a href="#page327">327</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;used as amulet, <a href="#page332">332</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; of the dead, magical virtue attributed to, <a href="#page137">137</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;worn by relatives, <a href="#page249">249</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;divination by means of, <a href="#page319">319</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; of mourners offered to the dead, <a href="#page183">183</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;cut off, <a href="#page183">183</a>, <a href="#page204">204</a><br/>
<br/>
Hakea flower totem, dramatic ceremony concerned with, <a href="#page119">119</a>, <a href="#page121">121</a><br/>
<br/>
Hands, gravediggers and persons who have handled a corpse not to touch food with their, <a href="#page327">327</a>, <a href="#page450">450</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Hanged, ghosts of the, specially feared, <a href="#page212">212</a><br/>
<br/>
Hare in myth of the origin of death, <a href="#page65">65</a><br/>
<br/>
Harumae, a warrior ghost, <a href="#page365">365</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Hasselt, J. L. van, <a href="#page305">305</a><br/>
<br/>
Hauri, a worshipful ghost, <a href="#page372">372</a><br/>
<br/>
Head-dress of gravediggers, <a href="#page327">327</a><br/>
<br/>
Head-hunters, <a href="#page352">352</a><br/>
<br/>
Head of corpse cut off in order to disable the ghost, <a href="#page153">153</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;removed and preserved, <a href="#page178">178</a>.<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;<i>See also</i> <a href="#index-skulls">Skulls</a><br/>
<br/>
Heads of mourners shaved, <a href="#page208">208</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash;, human, cut off in honour of the dead, <a href="#page352">352</a><br/>
<br/>
Heaps of stones on grave, <a href="#page360">360</a><br/>
<br/>
Heart supposed to be the seat of human spirit, <a href="#page129">129</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; of pig sacrificed, <a href="#page368">368</a><br/>
<br/>
Heavenly Dog, <a href="#page460">460</a><br/>
<br/>
Hebrew prophets, <a href="#page14">14</a><br/>
<br/>
Hen in myth of the origin of death, <a href="#page79">79</a><br/>
<br/>
Highlands of Scotland, burial custom in the, <a href="#page453">453</a>, <a href="#page458">458</a><br/>
<br/>
Hindoos, burial custom of the, <a href="#page453">453</a>, <a href="#page458">458</a><br/>
<br/>
Historical method of treating natural theology, <a href="#page2">2</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
History of religion, its importance, <a href="#page3">3</a><br/>
<br/>
Hiyoyoa, the land of the dead, <a href="#page207">207</a><br/>
<br/>
Hole in the wall, dead carried out through a, <a href="#page452">452</a> <i>sqq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Holy of Holies, <a href="#page430">430</a>, <a href="#page431">431</a>, <a href="#page433">433</a>, <a href="#page437">437</a>, <a href="#page438">438</a><br/>
<br/>
Homer on blood-drinking ghosts, <a href="#page159">159</a><br/>
<br/>
<a name="index-homicides" id="index-homicides"></a>Homicides, precautions taken by, against the ghosts of their victims, <a href="#page205">205</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;purification of, <a href="#page206">206</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;honours bestowed on, in Fiji, <a href="#page447">447</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;<i>See also</i> <a href="#index-manslayers">Manslayers</a><br/>
<br/>
Homoeopathic magic, <a href="#page288">288</a>, <a href="#page376">376</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; or imitative magic, <a href="#page335">335</a>, <a href="#page336">336</a>, <a href="#page338">338</a><br/>
<br/>
Honorary titles of homicides in Fiji, <a href="#page447">447</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Hood Peninsula of British New Guinea, <a href="#page47">47</a>, <a href="#page202">202</a>, <a href="#page203">203</a><br/>
<br/>
Hos of Togoland, their myth of the origin of death, <a href="#page81">81</a> <i>sqq.</i><br/>
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page506" id="page506"></a>[pg 506]</span>
<br/>
Hose, Ch., and McDougall, W., quoted, <a href="#page265">265</a> <i><a href="#footnote435">n.</a></i>, <a href="#page417">417</a><br/>
<br/>
Hottentots, their myth of the origin of death, <a href="#page65">65</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;burial custom of the, <a href="#page454">454</a><br/>
<br/>
House deserted after a death, <a href="#page195">195</a>, <a href="#page196">196</a> <i>n.</i> <a href="#footnote318">1</a>, <a href="#page248">248</a>, <a href="#page275">275</a>, <a href="#page349">349</a>, <a href="#page400">400</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;deserted or destroyed after a death, <a href="#page210">210</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;dead buried in the, <a href="#page236">236</a>, <a href="#page347">347</a>, <a href="#page352">352</a>, <a href="#page397">397</a>, <a href="#page398">398</a>, <a href="#page399">399</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;dead carried out of, by special opening, <a href="#page452">452</a> <i>sqq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Houses, native, at Kalo, <a href="#page202">202</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;communal, <a href="#page304">304</a><br/>
<br/>
Howitt, Dr. A. W., <a href="#page44">44</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page139">139</a>, <a href="#page141">141</a><br/>
<br/>
Human gods, <a href="#page20">20</a>, <a href="#page23">23</a> <i>sqq.</i><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; nature, two different views of, <a href="#page469">469</a> <i>sqq.</i><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; sacrifices to ghosts, <a href="#page371">371</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;in Fiji, <a href="#page446">446</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Hume's analysis of cause, <a href="#page18">18</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Hunt, Mr., his experience in Fiji, <a href="#page423">423</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Hunters supposed to be helped by ghosts, <a href="#page274">274</a>, <a href="#page284">284</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Huon Gulf, in German New Guinea, <a href="#page242">242</a>, <a href="#page256">256</a><br/>
<br/>
Hut built to represent mythical monster at initiation, <a href="#page251">251</a>, <a href="#page290">290</a>, <a href="#page301">301</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
<a name="index-huts" id="index-huts"></a>Huts erected on graves for use of ghosts, <a href="#page150">150</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;erected on graves, <a href="#page203">203</a>, <a href="#page223">223</a>, <a href="#page248">248</a>, <a href="#page259">259</a>, <a href="#page275">275</a>, <a href="#page293">293</a>, <a href="#page294">294</a><br/>
<br/>
Hypocritical lamentations at a death, <a href="#page273">273</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; indignation of accomplice at a murder, <a href="#page280">280</a> <i>sqq.</i>
</p>

<p>
Idu, mountain of the dead, <a href="#page193">193</a>, <a href="#page194">194</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Iguana in myth of origin of death, <a href="#page70">70</a><br/>
<br/>
Ilene, a worshipful ghost, <a href="#page373">373</a><br/>
<br/>
Ill-treatment of ghost who gives no help, <a href="#page285">285</a><br/>
<br/>
Illusion of the external world, <a href="#page21">21</a><br/>
<br/>
Images of the dead, wooden (<i>korwar</i> or <i>karwar</i>), <a href="#page307">307</a> <i>sqq.</i>, <a href="#page311">311</a>, <a href="#page315">315</a>, <a href="#page316">316</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page321">321</a>, <a href="#page322">322</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;of sharks, <a href="#page373">373</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;in temples, <a href="#page442">442</a><br/>
<br/>
Imitation of totems by disguised actors, <a href="#page119">119</a> <i>sqq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;of totemic animals, <a href="#page177">177</a><br/>
<br/>
Imitative magic, <a href="#page335">335</a>, <a href="#page336">336</a>, <a href="#page338">338</a>, <a href="#page376">376</a><br/>
<br/>
Immortality, belief in, among the aborigines of Central Australia, <a href="#page87">87</a> <i>sqq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;among the islanders of Torres Straits, <a href="#page170">170</a> <i>sqq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;among the natives of British New Guinea, <a href="#page190">190</a> <i>sqq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;among the natives of German New Guinea, <a href="#page216">216</a> <i>sqq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;among the natives of Dutch New Guinea, <a href="#page303">303</a> <i>sqq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;among the natives of Southern Melanesia, <a href="#page324">324</a> <i>sqq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;among the natives of Central Melanesia, <a href="#page343">343</a> <i>sqq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;among the natives of Northern Melanesia, <a href="#page393">393</a> <i>sqq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;among the Fijians, <a href="#page406">406</a> <i>sqq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;strongly held by savages, <a href="#page468">468</a><br/>
<br/>
Immortality, limited sense of, <a href="#page25">25</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;origin of belief in, <a href="#page25">25</a> <i>sqq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;belief in human, almost universal among races of mankind, <a href="#page33">33</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;rivalry between men and animals for gift of, <a href="#page74">74</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;question of the truth of the belief in, <a href="#page469">469</a> <i>sqq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;destruction of life and property entailed by the belief in, <a href="#page468">468</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; in a bundle, <a href="#page77">77</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Impecunious ghosts, hard fate of, <a href="#page406">406</a><br/>
<br/>
Impurity, ceremonial, of manslayer, <a href="#page229">229</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Im Thurn, Sir Everard F., <a href="#page38">38</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Incantations or spells, <a href="#page385">385</a><br/>
<br/>
Inconsistencies and contradictions in reasoning not peculiar to savages, <a href="#page111">111</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Inconsistency of savage thought, <a href="#page143">143</a><br/>
<br/>
Indians of Guiana, their ideas about death, <a href="#page35">35</a> <i>sqq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;their beliefs as to the dead, <a href="#page165">165</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; of North-West America, burial custom of the, <a href="#page455">455</a>, <a href="#page460">460</a><br/>
<br/>
Indifference to death, <a href="#page419">419</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;a consequence of belief in immortality, <a href="#page422">422</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Indo-European burial custom, <a href="#page453">453</a><br/>
<br/>
Infanticide as cause of diminished population, <a href="#page40">40</a><br/>
<br/>
Influence of European teaching on native beliefs, <a href="#page142">142</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Initiation at puberty regarded as a process of death and resurrection, <a href="#page254">254</a>, <a href="#page261">261</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; of young men, <a href="#page233">233</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;in Central Australia, <a href="#page100">100</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;among the Yabim, <a href="#page250">250</a> <i>sqq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;among the Bukaua, <a href="#page260">260</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;among the Kai, <a href="#page290">290</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;in Fiji, <a href="#page429">429</a> <i>sqq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Insanity, influence of, in history, <a href="#page15">15</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; and inspiration not clearly distinguished, <a href="#page388">388</a><br/>
<br/>
Insect in divination as to cause of death, <a href="#page44">44</a>, <a href="#page46">46</a><br/>
<br/>
Inspiration, theory of, <a href="#page14">14</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;of medium by ancestral spirits, <a href="#page308">308</a> <i>sqq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;by spirits of the dead, <a href="#page322">322</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;by ghosts in Central Melanesia, <a href="#page388">388</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;attested by frenzy, <a href="#page443">443</a>, <a href="#page444">444</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; and insanity not clearly distinguished, <a href="#page388">388</a><br/>
<br/>
Insufflations, magical, to heal the sick, <a href="#page329">329</a><br/>
<br/>
<i>Intichiuma</i>, magical ceremonies for the multiplication of totems, <a href="#page122">122</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Intuition and experience, <a href="#page11">11</a><br/>
<br/>
Invocation of ghosts, <a href="#page288">288</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;of the dead, <a href="#page329">329</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page332">332</a> <i>sqq.</i>, <a href="#page377">377</a>, <a href="#page378">378</a>, <a href="#page401">401</a>, <a href="#page441">441</a><br/>
<br/>
Island, dead buried in, <a href="#page319">319</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; of the dead, fabulous, <a href="#page175">175</a><br/>
<br/>
Islands, ghosts live in, <a href="#page350">350</a>, <a href="#page353">353</a><br/>
<br/>
Isle of Pines, <a href="#page325">325</a>, <a href="#page330">330</a>, <a href="#page337">337</a><br/>
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page507" id="page507"></a>[pg 507]</span>
<br/>
Israelites forbidden to cut themselves for the dead, <a href="#page154">154</a><br/>
<br/>
Ivory Coast, <a href="#page52">52</a>
</p>

<p>
Jackson, John, quoted, <a href="#page419">419</a> <i>sqq.</i>, <a href="#page447">447</a><br/>
<br/>
Jappen or Jobi, island, <a href="#page303">303</a><br/>
<br/>
Jawbone of husband worn by widow, <a href="#page204">204</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;lower, of corpse preserved, <a href="#page234">234</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page236">236</a>, <a href="#page274">274</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;of dead king of Uganda preserved and consulted oracularly, <a href="#page235">235</a><br/>
<br/>
Jawbones of the dead preserved, <a href="#page351">351</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;of dead worn by relatives, <a href="#page404">404</a><br/>
<br/>
Journey of ghosts to the land of the dead, <a href="#page286">286</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page361">361</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page462">462</a> <i>sqq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Juices of putrefaction received by mourners on their bodies, <a href="#page167">167</a>, <a href="#page205">205</a>, <a href="#page403">403</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; of putrefying corpse drunk by widow, <a href="#page313">313</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;drunk by women, <a href="#page355">355</a>
</p>

<p>
Kachins of Burma, burial custom of the, <a href="#page459">459</a><br/>
<br/>
Kafirs, their beliefs as to the causes of death, <a href="#page56">56</a><br/>
<br/>
Kagoro, the, of Northern Nigeria, <a href="#page28">28</a> <i>n.</i> <a href="#footnote5">1</a>, <a href="#page49">49</a><br/>
<br/>
Kai, the, of German New Guinea, <a href="#page71">71</a>, <a href="#page262">262</a> <i>sqq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;theory of the soul, <a href="#page267">267</a><br/>
<br/>
Kaikuzi, brother of Death, <a href="#page80">80</a><br/>
<br/>
Kaitish, the, <a href="#page68">68</a>, <a href="#page158">158</a>, <a href="#page166">166</a><br/>
<br/>
Kalo, in British New Guinea, <a href="#page202">202</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
<i>Kalou</i>, Fijian word for "god," <a href="#page440">440</a><br/>
<br/>
<i>Kalou vu</i>, "root gods," <a href="#page440">440</a><br/>
<br/>
<i>Kalou yalo</i>, "soul gods," <a href="#page440">440</a><br/>
<br/>
<i>Kami</i>, the souls of the dead, <a href="#page297">297</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Kamilaroi tribe of New South Wales, <a href="#page46">46</a>, <a href="#page155">155</a><br/>
<br/>
<i>Kanaima</i> (<i>kenaima</i>), <a href="#page36">36</a>, <a href="#page38">38</a><br/>
<br/>
<i>Kani</i>, name applied to ghosts, to bull-roarers, and to the monster who is thought to swallow lads at circumcision, <a href="#page301">301</a><br/>
<br/>
Kaniet islands, <a href="#page401">401</a><br/>
<br/>
<i>Kava</i> offered to ancestral spirits, <a href="#page440">440</a><br/>
<br/>
Kavirondo, burial custom of the, <a href="#page458">458</a><br/>
<br/>
Kaya-Kaya or Tugeri, the, of Dutch New Guinea, <a href="#page255">255</a><br/>
<br/>
Kayans, the, of Borneo, <a href="#page417">417</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;burial custom of, <a href="#page456">456</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page459">459</a><br/>
<br/>
Kemp Welch River, <a href="#page202">202</a><br/>
<br/>
<i>Keramo</i>, a fighting ghost, <a href="#page370">370</a><br/>
<br/>
Keysser, Ch., <a href="#page262">262</a>, <a href="#page263">263</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page267">267</a>, <a href="#page269">269</a> <i>n.</i> <a href="#footnote440">3</a><br/>
<br/>
Kibu, the land of the dead, <a href="#page175">175</a><br/>
<br/>
Kibuka, war-god of Uganda, <a href="#page366">366</a><br/>
<br/>
Kidd, Dudley, <a href="#page55">55</a><br/>
<br/>
Kidney-fat, extraction of, <a href="#page43">43</a><br/>
<br/>
Killer of Souls, the, <a href="#page465">465</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Killing a ghost, <a href="#page415">415</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
King, mourning for a, <a href="#page451">451</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
King's corpse not carried out through the door, <a href="#page452">452</a>, <a href="#page461">461</a><br/>
<br/>
Kings, divinity of, <a href="#page16">16</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;sanctity of Fijian, <a href="#page407">407</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Kintu and the origin of death, <a href="#page78">78</a> <i>sqq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Kiwai, beliefs and customs concerning the dead in island of, <a href="#page211">211</a> <i>sqq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Koita or Koitapu, of British New Guinea, <a href="#page193">193</a><br/>
<br/>
Kolosh Indians, <a href="#page163">163</a><br/>
<br/>
Komars, the, <a href="#page163">163</a><br/>
<br/>
<i>Koroi</i>, honorary title of homicides in Fiji, <a href="#page447">447</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
<i>Korwar</i>, or <i>karwar</i>, wooden images of the dead, <a href="#page307">307</a> <i>sqq.</i>, <a href="#page315">315</a>, <a href="#page316">316</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page321">321</a>, <a href="#page322">322</a><br/>
<br/>
Koryak, burial custom of the, <a href="#page455">455</a><br/>
<br/>
Kosi and the origin of death, <a href="#page76">76</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Knowledge, natural, how acquired, <a href="#page11">11</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; of God, how acquired, <a href="#page11">11</a> <i>sqq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;of ghosts essential to medical practitioners in Melanesia, <a href="#page384">384</a><br/>
<br/>
Kulin, the, <a href="#page138">138</a><br/>
<br/>
Kurnai tribe of Victoria, <a href="#page44">44</a>, <a href="#page138">138</a><br/>
<br/>
Kweariburra tribe, <a href="#page153">153</a><br/>
<br/>
<i>Kwod</i>, sacred or ceremonial ground, <a href="#page179">179</a>
</p>

<p>
Lambert, Father, <a href="#page325">325</a>, <a href="#page327">327</a>, <a href="#page328">328</a>, <a href="#page332">332</a>, <a href="#page339">339</a><br/>
<br/>
Lamboam, the land of the dead, <a href="#page260">260</a>, <a href="#page292">292</a>, <a href="#page299">299</a><br/>
<br/>
Lamentations, hypocritical, at a death, <a href="#page271">271</a> <i>sqq.</i>, <a href="#page280">280</a> <i>sqq.</i><br/>
<br/>
<a name="index-land" id="index-land"></a>Land burial and sea burial, <a href="#page347">347</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; cleared for cultivation, <a href="#page238">238</a>, <a href="#page242">242</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page256">256</a>, <a href="#page262">262</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page304">304</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; ghosts and sea ghosts, <a href="#page348">348</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; of the dead, <a href="#page175">175</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page192">192</a>, <a href="#page193">193</a>, <a href="#page194">194</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page202">202</a>, <a href="#page203">203</a>, <a href="#page207">207</a>, <a href="#page209">209</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page211">211</a> <i>sqq.</i>, <a href="#page224">224</a>, <a href="#page228">228</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page244">244</a>, <a href="#page260">260</a>, <a href="#page286">286</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page292">292</a>, <a href="#page299">299</a>, <a href="#page305">305</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page307">307</a>, <a href="#page322">322</a>, <a href="#page326">326</a>, <a href="#page345">345</a>, <a href="#page350">350</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page353">353</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page404">404</a> <i>sqq.</i>, <a href="#page462">462</a> <i>sqq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;journeys of the living to the, <a href="#page207">207</a>, <a href="#page355">355</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;way to the, <a href="#page212">212</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page462">462</a> <i>sqq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Landtman, Dr. G., <a href="#page214">214</a><br/>
<br/>
Lang, Andrew, <a href="#page216">216</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Laos, burial custom in, <a href="#page459">459</a><br/>
<br/>
Leaf as badge of a ghost, <a href="#page391">391</a><br/>
<br/>
Leaves thrown on scene of murder, <a href="#page415">415</a><br/>
<br/>
Leg bones of the dead preserved, <a href="#page221">221</a>, <a href="#page249">249</a><br/>
<br/>
Legs of corpse broken in order to disable the ghost, <a href="#page153">153</a><br/>
<br/>
Lehner, Stefan, <a href="#page256">256</a><br/>
<br/>
Lepchis of Sikhim, burial custom of the, <a href="#page455">455</a><br/>
<br/>
Le Sou&euml;f, A. A. C., <a href="#page40">40</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Libations to ancestral gods, <a href="#page430">430</a>, <a href="#page438">438</a><br/>
<br/>
Licence, period of, following circumcision, <a href="#page427">427</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;following initiation, <a href="#page433">433</a>, <a href="#page434">434</a> <i>n.</i> <a href="#footnote694">1</a>, <a href="#page436">436</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Licentious orgy following circumcision, <a href="#page427">427</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page508" id="page508"></a>[pg 508]</span>
<br/>
Life in the other world like life in this, <a href="#page286">286</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Lightning, savage theory of, <a href="#page19">19</a><br/>
<br/>
Lights, phosphorescent, thought to be ghosts, <a href="#page198">198</a>, <a href="#page258">258</a><br/>
<br/>
Lime, powdered, used to dust the trail of a ghost, <a href="#page277">277</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
<i>Lio'a</i>, a powerful ghost, <a href="#page346">346</a><br/>
<br/>
Liver extracted by magic, <a href="#page50">50</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;divination by, <a href="#page54">54</a><br/>
<br/>
Livers of pigs offered to the dead, <a href="#page360">360</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Lizard in divination as to cause of death, <a href="#page44">44</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;in myths of the origin of death, <a href="#page60">60</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page70">70</a>, <a href="#page74">74</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Lizards, ghosts in, <a href="#page380">380</a><br/>
<br/>
Local totem centres, <a href="#page97">97</a>, <a href="#page99">99</a>, <a href="#page124">124</a><br/>
<br/>
Long soul and short soul, <a href="#page291">291</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Lost souls, recovery of, <a href="#page270">270</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page300">300</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Luck, bad, in fishing and hunting, caused by ghosts, <a href="#page197">197</a><br/>
<br/>
Luck of a village dependent on ghosts, <a href="#page198">198</a><br/>
<br/>
<i>Lum</i>, men's clubhouse, <a href="#page243">243</a>, <a href="#page250">250</a>, <a href="#page257">257</a>
</p>

<p>
Mabuiag, island of, <a href="#page174">174</a><br/>
<br/>
Macassars, burial custom of the, <a href="#page461">461</a><br/>
<br/>
Macluer Gulf in Dutch New Guinea, <a href="#page317">317</a>, <a href="#page318">318</a><br/>
<br/>
Mad, stones to drive people, <a href="#page335">335</a><br/>
<br/>
Madagascar, ideas as to natural death in, <a href="#page48">48</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Mafulu (Mambule), the, of British New Guinea, <a href="#page198">198</a> <i>sqq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Maggots, appearance of, sign of departure of soul, <a href="#page292">292</a><br/>
<br/>
<a name="index-magic" id="index-magic"></a>Magic as a cause of death, <a href="#page34">34</a> <i>sqq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;Age of, <a href="#page58">58</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;attributed to aboriginal inhabitants of a country, <a href="#page193">193</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;homoeopathic or imitative, <a href="#page288">288</a>, <a href="#page335">335</a>, <a href="#page336">336</a>, <a href="#page338">338</a>, <a href="#page376">376</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;combined with religion, <a href="#page111">111</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page334">334</a>, <a href="#page335">335</a>, <a href="#page336">336</a>, <a href="#page337">337</a>, <a href="#page338">338</a>, <a href="#page376">376</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;Melanesian conception of, <a href="#page380">380</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;working by means of personal refuse, <a href="#page413">413</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;<i>See also</i> <a href="#index-sorcery">Sorcery</a> <i>and</i> <a href="#index-witchcraft">Witchcraft</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; and religion compared in reference to their destruction of human life, <a href="#page56">56</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Magical ceremonies for increasing the food supply, <a href="#page102">102</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;ceremonies for the multiplication of totems, <a href="#page124">124</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;intention of dramatic ceremonies in Central Australia, <a href="#page122">122</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page126">126</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;virtues attributed to sacred stones in New Caledonia, <a href="#page334">334</a> <i>sqq.</i><br/>
<br/>
<a name="index-magician" id="index-magician"></a>Magician or priest, <a href="#page336">336</a>, <a href="#page338">338</a>.<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;<i>See also</i> <a href="#index-sorcery">Sorcerer</a><br/>
<br/>
Magicians, their importance in history, <a href="#page16">16</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;but no priests at Doreh, <a href="#page306">306</a><br/>
<br/>
Malagasy, their ideas as to natural death, <a href="#page48">48</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Malanta, one of the Solomon Islands, <a href="#page350">350</a><br/>
<br/>
Malayalis, the, of Malabar, <a href="#page162">162</a><br/>
<br/>
Malignity of ghosts, <a href="#page212">212</a>, <a href="#page381">381</a><br/>
<br/>
Malo, island of, <a href="#page48">48</a><br/>
<br/>
Man creates gods in his own likeness, <a href="#page19">19</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash;, grandeur and dignity of, <a href="#page469">469</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;pettiness and insignificance of, <a href="#page470">470</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
<i>Mana</i>, supernatural or spiritual power, <a href="#page346">346</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page352">352</a>, <a href="#page371">371</a>, <a href="#page380">380</a><br/>
<br/>
<i>Manoam</i>, evil spirits, <a href="#page321">321</a><br/>
<br/>
Manoga, a worshipful ghost, <a href="#page368">368</a><br/>
<br/>
<a name="index-manslayers" id="index-manslayers"></a>Manslayers, precautions taken by, against the ghosts of their victims, <a href="#page205">205</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page258">258</a>, <a href="#page279">279</a>, <a href="#page323">323</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;secluded, <a href="#page279">279</a> <i>sq.</i>,<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;consecration of, <a href="#page448">448</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;restrictions imposed on, <a href="#page449">449</a>.<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;<i>See also</i> <a href="#index-homicides">Homicides</a><br/>
<br/>
<i>Mari</i> or <i>mar</i>, ghost, <a href="#page173">173</a><br/>
<br/>
<i>Mariget</i>, "ghost-hand," <a href="#page177">177</a><br/>
<br/>
Mariner, William, <a href="#page411">411</a><br/>
<br/>
Mariners, stones to help, <a href="#page337">337</a><br/>
<br/>
Markets, native, <a href="#page394">394</a><br/>
<br/>
Marotse, burial custom of the, <a href="#page454">454</a><br/>
<br/>
Marquesas Islands, <a href="#page417">417</a><br/>
<br/>
Married and unmarried, different modes of disposing of their corpses, <a href="#page162">162</a><br/>
<br/>
Masai, their myth of the origin of death, <a href="#page65">65</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Masked men, dramatic representation of ghosts and spirits by, <a href="#page176">176</a>, <a href="#page179">179</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page180">180</a> <i>sqq.</i>, <a href="#page185">185</a> <i>sqq.</i><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; dances, <a href="#page297">297</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;of the Monumbo, <a href="#page228">228</a><br/>
<br/>
Masks worn by actors in sacred ceremonies, <a href="#page179">179</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;used in dances, <a href="#page233">233</a>, <a href="#page297">297</a><br/>
<br/>
Masquerades, <a href="#page297">297</a><br/>
<br/>
Massim, the, of British New Guinea, <a href="#page206">206</a><br/>
<br/>
Master of Life, <a href="#page163">163</a><br/>
<br/>
Matacos Indians, <a href="#page165">165</a><br/>
<br/>
Mate, a worshipful spirit, <a href="#page239">239</a><br/>
<br/>
Material culture of the natives of New Guinea, <a href="#page191">191</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;of the natives of Tumleo, <a href="#page219">219</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;of Papuans, <a href="#page231">231</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;of the Yabim, <a href="#page242">242</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;of the Noofoor, <a href="#page304">304</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;of the New Caledonians, <a href="#page339">339</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;of the North Melanesians, <a href="#page393">393</a> <i>sqq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Mawatta or Mowat, <a href="#page47">47</a><br/>
<br/>
<i>Mbete</i>, priest, <a href="#page443">443</a>, <a href="#page445">445</a><br/>
<br/>
Mea, a spiritual medium, <a href="#page196">196</a><br/>
<br/>
Mecklenburg, burial custom in, <a href="#page457">457</a><br/>
<br/>
Medicine-men, their importance in history, <a href="#page16">16</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;inspired by spirits of the dead, <a href="#page322">322</a><br/>
<br/>
Medium inspired by soul of dead, <a href="#page308">308</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Mediums, spiritual, <a href="#page196">196</a><br/>
<br/>
Mediums who send their souls to deadland, <a href="#page300">300</a><br/>
<br/>
Megalithic monuments, <a href="#page438">438</a><br/>
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page509" id="page509"></a>[pg 509]</span>
<br/>
Melanesia, Central, belief in immortality among the natives of, <a href="#page343">343</a> <i>sqq.</i><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash;, Northern, belief in immortality among the natives of, <a href="#page393">393</a> <i>sqq.</i><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash;, Southern, belief in immortality among the natives of, <a href="#page324">324</a> <i>sqq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Melanesian myths of the origin of death, <a href="#page69">69</a>, <a href="#page71">71</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page83">83</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;theory of the soul, <a href="#page344">344</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Melanesians, their ideas as to natural deaths, <a href="#page48">48</a>, <a href="#page54">54</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;Central, funeral customs of the, <a href="#page347">347</a> <i>sqq.</i>, <a href="#page355">355</a> <i>sqq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;and Papuans in New Guinea, <a href="#page190">190</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Memorial trees, <a href="#page225">225</a><br/>
<br/>
Men sacrificed to support posts of new house, <a href="#page446">446</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;whipped by women in mourning, <a href="#page452">452</a><br/>
<br/>
Men's clubhouses, <a href="#page221">221</a>, <a href="#page225">225</a>, <a href="#page226">226</a>, <a href="#page243">243</a>, <a href="#page256">256</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page355">355</a><br/>
<br/>
Mentras or Mantras of the Malay Peninsula, <a href="#page73">73</a><br/>
<br/>
Merivale on Dartmoor, <a href="#page438">438</a><br/>
<br/>
Messengers, the Two, myth of origin of death, <a href="#page60">60</a> <i>sqq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Messou, Indian magician, <a href="#page78">78</a><br/>
<br/>
Metals unknown in Northern Melanesia, <a href="#page395">395</a><br/>
<br/>
Metempsychosis, widespread belief in, <a href="#page29">29</a><br/>
<br/>
Methods of treating natural theology, <a href="#page1">1</a> <i>sqq.</i><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; of natural knowledge, <a href="#page11">11</a><br/>
<br/>
Mexicans, the ancient, <a href="#page163">163</a><br/>
<br/>
Meyer, H. E. A., <a href="#page42">42</a><br/>
<br/>
Migration of villages, <a href="#page339">339</a><br/>
<br/>
Migratory cultivation, <a href="#page243">243</a><br/>
<br/>
Miklucho-Maclay, Baron N., <a href="#page235">235</a><br/>
<br/>
Milky Way, Central Australian belief as to the, <a href="#page140">140</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;souls of dead go to, <a href="#page153">153</a><br/>
<br/>
Milne Bay, <a href="#page207">207</a><br/>
<br/>
Mimika district in Dutch New Guinea, <a href="#page318">318</a><br/>
<br/>
Minnetaree Indians, <a href="#page163">163</a><br/>
<br/>
Misfortunes of all kinds caused by ghosts, <a href="#page306">306</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Moanus, the, of the Admiralty Islands, <a href="#page400">400</a><br/>
<br/>
Monarchical government, rise of, <a href="#page141">141</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Monsoon, south-east, festival at, <a href="#page255">255</a><br/>
<br/>
Monsoons, seasons determined by, <a href="#page216">216</a><br/>
<br/>
<a name="index-monster" id="index-monster"></a>Monster supposed to swallow lads at initiation, <a href="#page251">251</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page255">255</a>, <a href="#page260">260</a>, <a href="#page261">261</a>, <a href="#page290">290</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page301">301</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Monumbo, the, of German New Guinea, <a href="#page227">227</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Monuments of the dead, <a href="#page225">225</a><br/>
<br/>
Moon, the waxing and waning, in myths of the origin of death, <a href="#page60">60</a>, <a href="#page65">65</a> <i>sqq.</i><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; in relation to doctrine of resurrection, <a href="#page67">67</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;worship of the, <a href="#page68">68</a><br/>
<br/>
Moral restraint afforded by a fear of ghosts, <a href="#page175">175</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; depravity of the Fijians, <a href="#page409">409</a><br/>
<br/>
Morality, superstition a crutch to, <a href="#page175">175</a><br/>
<br/>
Mortuary dramas, <a href="#page189">189</a><br/>
<br/>
<i>Mos</i>, a disembodied soul, <a href="#page224">224</a><br/>
<br/>
Mota, island of, <a href="#page387">387</a><br/>
<br/>
Motlav, in the Banks' Islands, <a href="#page357">357</a><br/>
<br/>
Motu, the, of British New Guinea, <a href="#page192">192</a><br/>
<br/>
Mound erected in a totemic ceremony, <a href="#page110">110</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Mounds on graves, <a href="#page150">150</a>, <a href="#page164">164</a><br/>
<br/>
Mourners, professional, <a href="#page136">136</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; smeared with white clay, <a href="#page158">158</a>, <a href="#page177">177</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;painted black, <a href="#page178">178</a>, <a href="#page293">293</a>, <a href="#page403">403</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;garb of, <a href="#page184">184</a>, <a href="#page198">198</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;cut their hair, <a href="#page183">183</a>, <a href="#page204">204</a>, <a href="#page320">320</a>, <a href="#page451">451</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;abstain from certain foods, <a href="#page198">198</a>, <a href="#page208">208</a>, <a href="#page209">209</a>, <a href="#page230">230</a>, <a href="#page314">314</a>, <a href="#page360">360</a>, <a href="#page452">452</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;restrictions observed by, <a href="#page313">313</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;tattooed, <a href="#page314">314</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;purified by bathing, <a href="#page314">314</a>, <a href="#page319">319</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;plastered with mud, <a href="#page318">318</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;cut or tear their ears, <a href="#page183">183</a>, <a href="#page272">272</a>, <a href="#page327">327</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;secluded, <a href="#page360">360</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;smeared with ashes, <a href="#page361">361</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;anoint themselves with juices of putrefying corpse, <a href="#page403">403</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;amputate their fingers, <a href="#page199">199</a>, <a href="#page451">451</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;burn their skin, <a href="#page154">154</a>, <a href="#page155">155</a>, <a href="#page157">157</a>, <a href="#page327">327</a>, <a href="#page451">451</a>.<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;<i>See also</i> <a href="#index-cuttings">Cuttings</a> <i>and</i> <a href="#index-seclusion">Seclusion</a><br/>
<br/>
Mourning, hair cut in, <a href="#page135">135</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;extravagant demonstrations of grief in, <a href="#page135">135</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;for a father-in-law, <a href="#page155">155</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;amputation of fingers in, <a href="#page199">199</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;varying period of, <a href="#page274">274</a>, <a href="#page293">293</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;for a king, <a href="#page451">451</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; costume, <a href="#page249">249</a>, <a href="#page274">274</a>, <a href="#page320">320</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;a protection against ghosts, <a href="#page241">241</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;of widower and widow, <a href="#page259">259</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Mowat or Mawatta, <a href="#page47">47</a><br/>
<br/>
Mud, mourners plastered with, <a href="#page318">318</a><br/>
<br/>
Mukden, burial custom in, <a href="#page460">460</a><br/>
<br/>
Mukjarawaint tribe, <a href="#page155">155</a><br/>
<br/>
Mummies of dead preserved in houses, <a href="#page188">188</a><br/>
<br/>
Mummification of the dead, <a href="#page184">184</a>, <a href="#page185">185</a>, <a href="#page313">313</a><br/>
<br/>
<i>Mungai</i>, places associated with totems, <a href="#page117">117</a>, <a href="#page124">124</a><br/>
<br/>
Murder, leaves thrown on scene of, <a href="#page415">415</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; highly esteemed in Fiji, <a href="#page447">447</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Murdered man, ghost of, haunts murderer, <a href="#page248">248</a><br/>
<br/>
Murimuria, a second-rate heaven, <a href="#page466">466</a><br/>
<br/>
Murray Island, <a href="#page174">174</a><br/>
<br/>
Mutilations, bodily, at puberty, <a href="#page303">303</a><br/>
<br/>
Myth of the prelogical savage, <a href="#page266">266</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; of the continuance of death, <a href="#page472">472</a><br/>
<br/>
Myths of the origin of death, <a href="#page59">59</a> <i>sqq.</i>
</p>

<p>
<i>Nai</i>, souls of the dead, <a href="#page240">240</a><br/>
<br/>
Nai Thombothombo, in Fiji, <a href="#page463">463</a><br/>
<br/>
Nails of dead detached, <a href="#page145">145</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;preserved, <a href="#page339">339</a><br/>
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page510" id="page510"></a>[pg 510]</span>
<br/>
Naindelinde in Fiji, <a href="#page465">465</a><br/>
<br/>
Naiteru-kop, a Masai god, <a href="#page65">65</a><br/>
<br/>
Namaquas, their myth of the origin of death, <a href="#page65">65</a><br/>
<br/>
Nambanaggatai, in Fiji, <a href="#page465">465</a><br/>
<br/>
Nambi and the origin of death, <a href="#page78">78</a> <i>sqq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Name of mythical water-snake not uttered, <a href="#page105">105</a><br/>
<br/>
Names of the dead not mentioned, <a href="#page135">135</a>, <a href="#page210">210</a>, <a href="#page246">246</a><br/>
<br/>
Nandi, their myth of the origin of death, <a href="#page66">66</a><br/>
<br/>
<i>Nanga</i>, sacred stone enclosure, <a href="#page428">428</a> <i>sqq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;description of, <a href="#page437">437</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Nangganangga, the foe of unmarried ghosts, <a href="#page464">464</a><br/>
<br/>
<i>Nanja</i> tree or stone, <a href="#page98">98</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; spot, <a href="#page164">164</a>, <a href="#page165">165</a><br/>
<br/>
Narrinyeri tribe of South Australia, <a href="#page43">43</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;their beliefs as to the dead, <a href="#page134">134</a> <i>sqq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Nassau, Rev. R. H., <a href="#page51">51</a><br/>
<br/>
Native beliefs influenced by European teaching, <a href="#page142">142</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Natural theology defined, <a href="#page1">1</a>, <a href="#page8">8</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; death, disbelief of savages in, <a href="#page33">33</a> <i>sqq.</i><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; causes of death recognised by some savages, <a href="#page55">55</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; features of landscape associated with traditions about the dead, <a href="#page115">115</a> <i>sqq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Nature, gods of, <a href="#page20">20</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;souls of the dead identified with spirits of, <a href="#page130">130</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;two different views of human, <a href="#page469">469</a> <i>sqq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Nayars, the, of Cochin, <a href="#page162">162</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Ndengei, Fijian god in form of serpent, <a href="#page445">445</a>, <a href="#page462">462</a>, <a href="#page464">464</a>, <a href="#page465">465</a>, <a href="#page466">466</a><br/>
<br/>
Necklaces worn in mourning, <a href="#page198">198</a><br/>
<br/>
Negen Negorijen in Dutch New Guinea, <a href="#page316">316</a>, <a href="#page317">317</a><br/>
<br/>
Negrito admixture in New Guinea, <a href="#page198">198</a><br/>
<br/>
Nemunemu, a creator, <a href="#page240">240</a><br/>
<br/>
Nether world, the lord of the, <a href="#page286">286</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;abode of the dead in the, <a href="#page292">292</a>, <a href="#page299">299</a>, <a href="#page322">322</a>, <a href="#page326">326</a>, <a href="#page353">353</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;descent of the living into the, <a href="#page300">300</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;<i>See also</i> <a href="#index-land">Land of the Dead</a><br/>
<br/>
Nets worn by widows in mourning, <a href="#page249">249</a>, <a href="#page260">260</a>, <a href="#page274">274</a>, <a href="#page293">293</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;worn by women in mourning, <a href="#page241">241</a><br/>
<br/>
New birth at initiation, pretence of, <a href="#page254">254</a><br/>
<br/>
New Britain (New Pomerania), <a href="#page48">48</a>, <a href="#page69">69</a>, <a href="#page393">393</a>, <a href="#page394">394</a>, <a href="#page402">402</a>, <a href="#page404">404</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; Caledonia, natives of, <a href="#page324">324</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;their beliefs and customs concerning the dead, <a href="#page325">325</a> <i>sqq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;their system of family prayers, <a href="#page332">332</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page340">340</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;material culture of the, <a href="#page339">339</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; Georgia, <a href="#page48">48</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; Guinea, aborigines of, their ideas as to natural death, <a href="#page47">47</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;the races of, <a href="#page190">190</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;belief in immortality among the natives of British, <a href="#page190">190</a> <i>sqq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;belief in immortality among the natives of Dutch, <a href="#page303">303</a> <i>sqq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;belief in immortality among the natives of German, <a href="#page216">216</a> <i>sqq.</i><br/>
<br/>
New Hebrides, myth of the origin of death in, <a href="#page71">71</a>, <a href="#page343">343</a>, <a href="#page353">353</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; Ireland (New Mecklenburg), <a href="#page393">393</a>, <a href="#page397">397</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; South Wales, aborigines of, their ideas as to the causes of death, <a href="#page45">45</a> <i>sq.</i>;
&nbsp;&nbsp;as to the home of the dead, <a href="#page133">133</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Newton, Alfred, <a href="#page90">90</a> <i>n.</i> <a href="#footnote108">1</a><br/>
<br/>
Neyaux, the, of the Ivory Coast, <a href="#page52">52</a><br/>
<br/>
<i>Ngai</i>, human spirit, <a href="#page129">129</a><br/>
<br/>
Ngoc, the, of Annam, <a href="#page69">69</a><br/>
<br/>
Ngoni, the, <a href="#page61">61</a><br/>
<br/>
Nias, island of, <a href="#page70">70</a><br/>
<br/>
Nigeria, Northern, <a href="#page28">28</a> <i>n.</i> <a href="#footnote5">1</a>, <a href="#page49">49</a><br/>
<br/>
Niggardly people punished in the other world, <a href="#page405">405</a><br/>
<br/>
Noblemen alone immortal, <a href="#page33">33</a><br/>
<br/>
Noofoor, the, of Dutch New Guinea, <a href="#page303">303</a><br/>
<br/>
Noomfor, island, <a href="#page303">303</a><br/>
<br/>
Norse burial custom, <a href="#page453">453</a><br/>
<br/>
Noses bored, ghosts should have their, <a href="#page192">192</a>, <a href="#page194">194</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Novices presented to ancestral spirits at initiation, <a href="#page432">432</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page434">434</a><br/>
<br/>
Nukahiva, one of the Marquesas Islands, <a href="#page417">417</a>
</p>

<p>
Objects offered to the dead broken, <a href="#page276">276</a><br/>
<br/>
Offering, soul of, consumed by deity or spirit, <a href="#page297">297</a>, <a href="#page298">298</a><br/>
<br/>
<a name="index-offerings" id="index-offerings"></a>Offerings of food and water to the dead, <a href="#page174">174</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;of food to the dead, <a href="#page183">183</a>, <a href="#page201">201</a>, <a href="#page208">208</a>, <a href="#page211">211</a>, <a href="#page214">214</a>, <a href="#page232">232</a>, <a href="#page241">241</a>, <a href="#page332">332</a>, <a href="#page338">338</a>, <a href="#page364">364</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page367">367</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page372">372</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page396">396</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page429">429</a>, <a href="#page442">442</a>, <a href="#page467">467</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;of blood and hair to the dead, <a href="#page183">183</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;of game and fish to the dead, <a href="#page226">226</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;to the dead, <a href="#page239">239</a>, <a href="#page276">276</a>, <a href="#page292">292</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;of first-fruits to the dead, <a href="#page259">259</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;to ancestors, <a href="#page298">298</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;of food to ghosts, <a href="#page348">348</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;to ghosts, <a href="#page364">364</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;of first-fruits to ancestral spirits, <a href="#page429">429</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;of cloth and weapons to ancestral spirits, <a href="#page430">430</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;<i>See also</i> <a href="#index-sacrifices">Sacrifices</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash;, burnt, to the dead, <a href="#page294">294</a><br/>
<br/>
<i>Oknanikilla</i>, local totem centre, <a href="#page97">97</a>, <a href="#page99">99</a>, <a href="#page124">124</a><br/>
<br/>
Old and young, difference between the modes of burying, <a href="#page161">161</a>, <a href="#page162">162</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Old people buried alive, <a href="#page359">359</a><br/>
<br/>
Olympia, Pelops at, <a href="#page159">159</a><br/>
<br/>
Omens after a death, <a href="#page319">319</a><br/>
<br/>
Opening, special, for carrying dead out of house, <a href="#page452">452</a> <i>sqq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Oracles of dead kings, <a href="#page151">151</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; of the dead, <a href="#page151">151</a>, <a href="#page176">176</a>, <a href="#page179">179</a>, <a href="#page235">235</a><br/>
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page511" id="page511"></a>[pg 511]</span>
<br/>
Oracular responses of Fijian priests, <a href="#page443">443</a> <i>sqq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Oranges, spirits of the dead play with, <a href="#page326">326</a><br/>
<br/>
Ordeal to detect sorcerer, <a href="#page50">50</a> <i>sqq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Orgy, licentious, following circumcision, <a href="#page427">427</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Origin of belief in immortality, <a href="#page26">26</a> <i>sqq.</i><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; of death, myths of the, <a href="#page59">59</a> <i>sqq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Orion's belt, <a href="#page368">368</a><br/>
<br/>
Ornaments of corpse removed before burial, <a href="#page223">223</a>, <a href="#page234">234</a>, <a href="#page241">241</a>
</p>

<p>
Pahouins, the, <a href="#page54">54</a><br/>
<br/>
Palsy, a Samoan god, <a href="#page72">72</a><br/>
<br/>
Pandanus, reason for planting, <a href="#page362">362</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; and ghosts, <a href="#page463">463</a><br/>
<br/>
Panoi, Melanesian land of the dead, <a href="#page83">83</a>, <a href="#page345">345</a>, <a href="#page353">353</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page355">355</a>, <a href="#page356">356</a><br/>
<br/>
Papuan art, <a href="#page220">220</a><br/>
<br/>
Papuans, animistic views of the, <a href="#page264">264</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; and Melanesians in New Guinea, <a href="#page190">190</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
<i>Paraks</i>, temples, <a href="#page220">220</a><br/>
<br/>
Parents deified, <a href="#page439">439</a><br/>
<br/>
Parkinson, R., <a href="#page219">219</a>, <a href="#page221">221</a><br/>
<br/>
Pelops, human blood offered on grave of, <a href="#page159">159</a><br/>
<br/>
Penates in New Guinea, <a href="#page308">308</a>, <a href="#page317">317</a><br/>
<br/>
Pennefather River, natives of the, their belief in reincarnation of the dead, <a href="#page128">128</a><br/>
<br/>
Perche, burial custom in, <a href="#page458">458</a><br/>
<br/>
Personal refuse, magic working through, <a href="#page386">386</a>, <a href="#page413">413</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Personification of natural phenomena, <a href="#page20">20</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;of death, <a href="#page81">81</a><br/>
<br/>
Phosphorescent lights supposed to be ghosts, <a href="#page198">198</a>, <a href="#page258">258</a><br/>
<br/>
<i>Physostigma venenosum</i> in poison ordeal, <a href="#page52">52</a><br/>
<br/>
Piety, two types of, <a href="#page23">23</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;co-operative system of, <a href="#page333">333</a><br/>
<br/>
Pigs, blood of, smeared on skulls and bones of the dead, <a href="#page200">200</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;sacrificed to the dead, <a href="#page201">201</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;sacrificed to monster who swallows lads at initiation, <a href="#page251">251</a>, <a href="#page253">253</a>, <a href="#page260">260</a>, <a href="#page290">290</a>, <a href="#page301">301</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;sacrificed at grave, <a href="#page356">356</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;sacrificed at burial, <a href="#page359">359</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;sacrificed to ghosts, <a href="#page365">365</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;sacrificed vicariously for the sick, <a href="#page373">373</a>, <a href="#page374">374</a>, <a href="#page375">375</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;sacred, <a href="#page433">433</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash;, livers of, offered to the dead, <a href="#page360">360</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Pines, Isle of, <a href="#page325">325</a>, <a href="#page330">330</a>, <a href="#page337">337</a><br/>
<br/>
Pirnmeheel, good spirit, <a href="#page143">143</a><br/>
<br/>
Place of sacrifice to ghosts, <a href="#page370">370</a><br/>
<br/>
Planting, sacrifices to ghosts at, <a href="#page375">375</a><br/>
<br/>
Platforms, dead laid on, <a href="#page199">199</a>, <a href="#page203">203</a>, <a href="#page205">205</a><br/>
<br/>
Plato, on death, <a href="#page33">33</a><br/>
<br/>
Pleiades, the, <a href="#page368">368</a><br/>
<br/>
Plum-tree people, <a href="#page94">94</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; totem, dramatic ceremony connected with, <a href="#page120">120</a>, <a href="#page121">121</a><br/>
<br/>
Poison ordeal to detect sorcerers, <a href="#page50">50</a> <i>sqq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Political constitution of the Fijians, <a href="#page407">407</a><br/>
<br/>
Pollution, ceremonial, of gravediggers, <a href="#page327">327</a><br/>
<br/>
Polynesian blood, infusion of, in New Guinea, <a href="#page291">291</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; race, <a href="#page406">406</a><br/>
<br/>
Polytheism and monotheism, <a href="#page11">11</a><br/>
<br/>
Polytheism discarded, <a href="#page20">20</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Population, belief in sorcery a cause of keeping down the, <a href="#page38">38</a>, <a href="#page40">40</a>, <a href="#page46">46</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page51">51</a> <i>sqq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Port Lincoln tribe of S. Australia, <a href="#page42">42</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; Moresby, <a href="#page193">193</a>, <a href="#page195">195</a><br/>
<br/>
Poso in Celebes, <a href="#page72">72</a><br/>
<br/>
Posts of new house, men sacrificed to support, <a href="#page446">446</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Potsdam Harbour, in German New Guinea, <a href="#page218">218</a>, <a href="#page227">227</a><br/>
<br/>
Pottery, native, <a href="#page220">220</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;in New Guinea, <a href="#page305">305</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash;, Fijian, <a href="#page407">407</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; unknown in Northern Melanesia, <a href="#page395">395</a><br/>
<br/>
Practical character of the savage, <a href="#page274">274</a><br/>
<br/>
Prayer-posts, <a href="#page333">333</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Prayers to the dead, <a href="#page201">201</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page214">214</a>, <a href="#page222">222</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page259">259</a>, <a href="#page288">288</a>, <a href="#page307">307</a>, <a href="#page329">329</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page332">332</a> <i>sqq.</i>, <a href="#page340">340</a>, <a href="#page376">376</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page401">401</a>, <a href="#page403">403</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page427">427</a>, <a href="#page441">441</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;to ghosts, <a href="#page348">348</a><br/>
<br/>
Precautions taken against ghosts, <a href="#page152">152</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page258">258</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;against a wife's ghost, <a href="#page197">197</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;against ghosts of the slain, <a href="#page205">205</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Predominance of the worship of the dead, <a href="#page297">297</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Prelogical savage, myth of the, <a href="#page266">266</a><br/>
<br/>
<a name="index-pretence" id="index-pretence"></a>Pretence of attacking persons engaged in attending to a corpse, <a href="#page177">177</a>, <a href="#page178">178</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; of avenging the dead, <a href="#page136">136</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page282">282</a>, <a href="#page328">328</a><br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;<i>See also</i> <a href="#index-sham-attack">Sham fight</a><br/>
<br/>
Priest, family, <a href="#page332">332</a>, <a href="#page340">340</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash;, chief or high, <a href="#page430">430</a>, <a href="#page431">431</a>, <a href="#page432">432</a>, <a href="#page433">433</a>, <a href="#page434">434</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; or magician, <a href="#page336">336</a>, <a href="#page338">338</a><br/>
<br/>
Priests, Fijian, <a href="#page433">433</a> <i>sqq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Private or tame ghosts, <a href="#page369">369</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page381">381</a>, <a href="#page382">382</a>, <a href="#page386">386</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; property, rights of, consolidated by taboo, <a href="#page390">390</a><br/>
<br/>
Problem of death, <a href="#page31">31</a> <i>sqq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Progress partly determined by competition, <a href="#page89">89</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash;, social, stimulated by favourable natural conditions, <a href="#page148">148</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Promiscuity, temporary, <a href="#page427">427</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page433">433</a>, <a href="#page434">434</a> <i>n.</i> <a href="#footnote691">1</a>, <a href="#page436">436</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Property displayed beside the corpse, <a href="#page397">397</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash;, rights of private, consolidated by taboo, <a href="#page390">390</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;temporarily suspended, <a href="#page427">427</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page512" id="page512"></a>[pg 512]</span>
<br/>
Property of dead deposited in grave, <a href="#page145">145</a> <i>sqq.</i>, <a href="#page359">359</a>, <a href="#page397">397</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;motive for destroying, <a href="#page147">147</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;hung up on trees, <a href="#page148">148</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;destroyed, <a href="#page327">327</a>, <a href="#page459">459</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;burnt, <a href="#page401">401</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Prophecy inspired by ghosts, <a href="#page388">388</a><br/>
<br/>
Prophets inspired by ghosts, <a href="#page388">388</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash;, Hebrew, <a href="#page14">14</a><br/>
<br/>
Propitiation of the dead, <a href="#page201">201</a>, <a href="#page307">307</a>, <a href="#page338">338</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;of ghosts and spirits, <a href="#page226">226</a>, <a href="#page239">239</a>, <a href="#page348">348</a><br/>
<br/>
Puberty, initiation at, <a href="#page254">254</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;bodily mutilations at, <a href="#page303">303</a><br/>
<br/>
Public ghosts, <a href="#page367">367</a>, <a href="#page369">369</a><br/>
<br/>
Purification of homicides, <a href="#page206">206</a>, <a href="#page229">229</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; by bathing and shaving, <a href="#page208">208</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; of mourners by bathing, <a href="#page314">314</a>, <a href="#page319">319</a>
</p>

<p>
Queensland, belief in reincarnation of the dead among the aborigines of, <a href="#page127">127</a> <i>sqq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;burial customs in, <a href="#page147">147</a>
</p>

<p>
Rain sent by a mythical water-snake, <a href="#page112">112</a>, <a href="#page114">114</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;prayers for, <a href="#page288">288</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;stones to make, <a href="#page336">336</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; and sunshine caused by a ghost, <a href="#page375">375</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; -ghost, <a href="#page375">375</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; -making, <a href="#page288">288</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;by the bones of the dead, <a href="#page341">341</a><br/>
<br/>
Rat in myth of the origin of death, <a href="#page67">67</a><br/>
<br/>
Rationality of the savage, <a href="#page264">264</a> <i>sqq.</i><br/>
<br/>
<a name="index-rebirth" id="index-rebirth"></a>Rebirth of the dead, <a href="#page93">93</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page107">107</a>, <a href="#page127">127</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;<i>See also</i> <a href="#index-reincarnation">Reincarnation</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; of parents in their children, <a href="#page315">315</a><br/>
<br/>
Recovery of lost souls, <a href="#page194">194</a>, <a href="#page270">270</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page300">300</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Red, skulls painted, <a href="#page178">178</a><br/>
<br/>
Red bark in poison ordeals, <a href="#page50">50</a>, <a href="#page52">52</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; paint, manslayers smeared with, <a href="#page448">448</a>, <a href="#page449">449</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; roses, corpse crowned with, <a href="#page233">233</a>, <a href="#page234">234</a><br/>
<br/>
Reflection or shadow, soul associated with, 207, 267<br/>
<br/>
Refuse, personal, magic working by means of, <a href="#page413">413</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
<a name="index-reincarnation" id="index-reincarnation"></a>Reincarnation, widespread belief in, <a href="#page29">29</a>.<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;<i>See also</i> <a href="#index-rebirth">Rebirth</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; doctrine of, unknown in Torres Straits, <a href="#page172">172</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; of the dead, belief of Central Australians in, <a href="#page92">92</a> <i>sqq.</i>, <a href="#page107">107</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; of the dead, <a href="#page124">124</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page127">127</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;of Australian aborigines in white people, <a href="#page130">130</a>, <a href="#page131">131</a> <i>sqq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;of parents in their children, <a href="#page315">315</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;of grandfather in grandchild, <a href="#page417">417</a>, <a href="#page418">418</a><br/>
<br/>
Relics of the dead as amulets, <a href="#page332">332</a>, <a href="#page370">370</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;preserved, <a href="#page348">348</a><br/>
<br/>
Religion, importance of the history of, <a href="#page3">3</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;embryology of, <a href="#page88">88</a><br/>
<br/>
Religion and magic compared in reference to their destruction of human life, <a href="#page57">57</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;combined in ritual, <a href="#page111">111</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page334">334</a>, <a href="#page335">335</a>, <a href="#page336">336</a>, <a href="#page336">336</a>, <a href="#page337">337</a>, <a href="#page338">338</a>, <a href="#page376">376</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; and theology, how related, <a href="#page9">9</a><br/>
<br/>
Resemblance of children to the dead, a source of belief in the transmigration of souls, <a href="#page28">28</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Restrictions observed by mourners, <a href="#page313">313</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;ceremonial, laid on gravediggers, <a href="#page327">327</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;imposed on manslayers, <a href="#page449">449</a><br/>
<br/>
Resurrection, ceremony of, among the Akikuya, <a href="#page254">254</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; from the dead after three days, <a href="#page67">67</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;of the dead, steps taken to prevent the, <a href="#page144">144</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;as an initiatory rite at puberty, <a href="#page254">254</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page261">261</a>, <a href="#page302">302</a>, <a href="#page431">431</a>, <a href="#page434">434</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Return of the ghosts, <a href="#page195">195</a>, <a href="#page198">198</a>, <a href="#page246">246</a>, <a href="#page300">300</a><br/>
<br/>
Revelation, the question of a supernatural, <a href="#page8">8</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Revival, temporary, of primitive communism, <a href="#page436">436</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Rheumatism attributed to sorcery, <a href="#page45">45</a><br/>
<br/>
Rhodesia, <a href="#page77">77</a><br/>
<br/>
Ribs of dead distributed among relatives, <a href="#page400">400</a><br/>
<br/>
Ridgeway, W., on the origin of Greek tragedy, <a href="#page189">189</a><br/>
<br/>
Rights of property temporarily suspended, <a href="#page427">427</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Ritual combining elements of religion and magic, <a href="#page111">111</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Rivalry between man and animals for gift of immortality, <a href="#page74">74</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
River crossed by souls of the dead, <a href="#page299">299</a>, <a href="#page462">462</a><br/>
<br/>
Rocking stone, <a href="#page213">213</a><br/>
<br/>
Roro-speaking tribes of British New Guinea, <a href="#page47">47</a>, <a href="#page196">196</a>, <a href="#page198">198</a><br/>
<br/>
Roth, W. E., <a href="#page128">128</a><br/>
<br/>
Run or Ron, island, <a href="#page303">303</a>, <a href="#page311">311</a><br/>
<br/>
Russia, burial custom in, <a href="#page453">453</a>
</p>

<p>
Saa, in Malanta, <a href="#page350">350</a>, <a href="#page351">351</a>, <a href="#page372">372</a>, <a href="#page378">378</a><br/>
<br/>
Sacrament of pork and water at initiation, <a href="#page432">432</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Sacred stones in New Caledonia, magical virtues attributed to, <a href="#page334">334</a> <i>sqq.</i><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; enclosure of stones (<i>Nanga</i>) in Fiji, <a href="#page428">428</a> <i>sqq.</i>, <a href="#page437">437</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; pigs, <a href="#page433">433</a><br/>
<br/>
Sacrifice, crude motives for, <a href="#page298">298</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;place of, <a href="#page332">332</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; of dogs in epidemics, <a href="#page296">296</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;of foreskins and fingers in honour of the dead, <a href="#page426">426</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
<a name="index-sacrifices" id="index-sacrifices"></a>Sacrifices to the dead, economic loss entailed by, <a href="#page149">149</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; to the dead, <a href="#page239">239</a>, <a href="#page307">307</a>, <a href="#page338">338</a>.<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;<i>See also</i> <a href="#index-offerings">Offerings</a><br/>
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page513" id="page513"></a>[pg 513]</span>
<br/>
Sacrifices, burnt, reasons for, <a href="#page348">348</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;burnt, to ghosts, <a href="#page366">366</a>, <a href="#page367">367</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page373">373</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; to ghosts, <a href="#page328">328</a>; at planting, <a href="#page375">375</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash;, human, to ghosts, <a href="#page371">371</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;human, in Fiji, <a href="#page446">446</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Sacrificial ritual in the Solomon Islands, <a href="#page365">365</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Saddle Mountain in German New Guinea, <a href="#page262">262</a><br/>
<br/>
St. Joseph River in New Guinea, <a href="#page196">196</a>, <a href="#page198">198</a><br/>
<br/>
Sakalava, the, of Madagascar, <a href="#page49">49</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;burial custom of, <a href="#page461">461</a><br/>
<br/>
Saleijer, island of, burial custom in, <a href="#page461">461</a><br/>
<br/>
Samoa, <a href="#page406">406</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; Harbour, in German New Guinea, <a href="#page256">256</a><br/>
<br/>
Samoan myth of the origin of death, <a href="#page72">72</a><br/>
<br/>
Samoyeds, burial custom of the, <a href="#page457">457</a><br/>
<br/>
Samu-yalo, the killer of souls, <a href="#page465">465</a><br/>
<br/>
San Cristoval, one of the Solomon Islands, <a href="#page347">347</a>, <a href="#page376">376</a><br/>
<br/>
Sanctuaries, primitive, <a href="#page99">99</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; of ghosts, <a href="#page377">377</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Sanctuary, grave of worshipful dead becomes a, <a href="#page347">347</a><br/>
<br/>
Sanitation based on fear of sorcery, <a href="#page386">386</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page414">414</a><br/>
<br/>
Santa Cruz Islands, <a href="#page343">343</a><br/>
<br/>
Santa Cruz, in the Solomon Islands, burial customs at, <a href="#page352">352</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;sacrifices to ghosts in, <a href="#page374">374</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Savage, myth of the prelogical, <a href="#page266">266</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash;, practical character of the, <a href="#page274">274</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash;, rationality of the, <a href="#page264">264</a> <i>sqq.</i><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; notions of causality, <a href="#page19">19</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;conception of death, <a href="#page31">31</a> <i>sqq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;disbelief in death from natural causes, <a href="#page33">33</a> <i>sqq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;thought vague and inconsistent, <a href="#page143">143</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; religion, the study of, <a href="#page7">7</a><br/>
<br/>
Savagery, importance of the study of, <a href="#page6">6</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;a case of arrested or retarded development, <a href="#page88">88</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;rise of monarchy essential to emergence from, <a href="#page142">142</a><br/>
<br/>
Savages pay little attention to the stars, <a href="#page140">140</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;strength and universality of belief in immortality among, <a href="#page468">468</a><br/>
<br/>
Savo, one of the Solomon Islands, <a href="#page347">347</a><br/>
<br/>
Scarf, soul caught in a, <a href="#page412">412</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Scenery of Fiji, <a href="#page409">409</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Schomburgk, Richard, <a href="#page38">38</a><br/>
<br/>
Sch&uuml;rmann, C. W., <a href="#page42">42</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Scientific conception of the world as a system of impersonal forces, <a href="#page20">20</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Scotland, burial custom in, <a href="#page453">453</a>, <a href="#page458">458</a><br/>
<br/>
Sea, land of the dead at the bottom of the, <a href="#page307">307</a>, <a href="#page326">326</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; -burial, <a href="#page397">397</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; -burial and land-burial, <a href="#page347">347</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; -ghosts and land-ghosts, <a href="#page348">348</a><br/>
<br/>
<a name="index-seclusion" id="index-seclusion"></a>Seclusion of widow and widower, <a href="#page204">204</a>, <a href="#page248">248</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page259">259</a>, <a href="#page275">275</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;of relatives at grave, <a href="#page209">209</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;of mourners, <a href="#page223">223</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page313">313</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page360">360</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;of novices at circumcision, <a href="#page251">251</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page260">260</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page302">302</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;of manslayers, <a href="#page279">279</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;of gravediggers, <a href="#page327">327</a>, <a href="#page451">451</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;of female mourners, <a href="#page398">398</a><br/>
<br/>
Seclusion and purification of manslayer, <a href="#page229">229</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Second death of the dead, <a href="#page195">195</a>, <a href="#page287">287</a>, <a href="#page299">299</a>, <a href="#page345">345</a>, <a href="#page350">350</a>, <a href="#page351">351</a>, <a href="#page354">354</a><br/>
<br/>
Secret societies, <a href="#page395">395</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; Society (<i>Asa</i>), <a href="#page233">233</a><br/>
<br/>
Seemann, Berthold, <a href="#page439">439</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Seer describes ghosts, <a href="#page204">204</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Seget S&eacute;l&eacute;, the, of Dutch New Guinea, <a href="#page317">317</a><br/>
<br/>
Seligmann, Dr. C. G., <a href="#page47">47</a>, <a href="#page191">191</a>, <a href="#page197">197</a>, <a href="#page206">206</a><br/>
<br/>
Selwyn, Bishop, <a href="#page363">363</a><br/>
<br/>
Serpent and his cast skin in myths of the origin of death, <a href="#page60">60</a>, <a href="#page69">69</a> <i>sqq.</i>, <a href="#page74">74</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page83">83</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash;, god in form of, <a href="#page445">445</a>, <a href="#page462">462</a><br/>
<br/>
Serpents, souls of the dead in the form of, <a href="#page300">300</a><br/>
<br/>
Setting sun, ghosts attracted to the, <a href="#page175">175</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Sexual licence following initiation, <a href="#page433">433</a>, <a href="#page434">434</a> <i>n.</i> <a href="#footnote692">1</a>, <a href="#page436">436</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Shadow or reflection, human soul associated with, <a href="#page129">129</a>, <a href="#page130">130</a>, <a href="#page173">173</a>, <a href="#page207">207</a>, <a href="#page267">267</a>, <a href="#page395">395</a>, <a href="#page412">412</a><br/>
<br/>
Shadows of people seized by ghosts, <a href="#page378">378</a>, <a href="#page383">383</a><br/>
<br/>
Shaking of medium a symptom of inspiration, <a href="#page308">308</a>, <a href="#page309">309</a>, <a href="#page311">311</a><br/>
<br/>
<a name="index-sham-attack" id="index-sham-attack"></a>Sham attack on men engaged in attending to a corpse, <a href="#page177">177</a>, <a href="#page178">178</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; burial, <a href="#page356">356</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; fight to appease ghost, <a href="#page136">136</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;as a funeral ceremony, <a href="#page235">235</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page327">327</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;as a ceremony to promote the growth of yams, <a href="#page330">330</a>.<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;<i>See also</i> <a href="#index-pretence">Pretence</a><br/>
<br/>
Sharks animated by ghosts, <a href="#page348">348</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash;, ghosts incarnate in, <a href="#page373">373</a>, <a href="#page380">380</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;images of, <a href="#page373">373</a><br/>
<br/>
Shaving heads of mourners, <a href="#page208">208</a><br/>
<br/>
Sheep in story of the origin of death, <a href="#page64">64</a><br/>
<br/>
Shell-money, <a href="#page394">394</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;laid on corpse and buried with it, <a href="#page398">398</a><br/>
<br/>
Shortlands Islands, <a href="#page71">71</a><br/>
<br/>
Shrine of warrior ghost, <a href="#page365">365</a><br/>
<br/>
Shrines for ancestral spirits, <a href="#page316">316</a>, <a href="#page317">317</a><br/>
<br/>
Siamese, burial custom of the, <a href="#page456">456</a><br/>
<br/>
Siasi Islands, <a href="#page244">244</a><br/>
<br/>
Sick and old buried alive in Fiji, <a href="#page420">420</a> <i>sqq.</i><br/>
<br/>
<a name="index-sickness" id="index-sickness"></a>Sickness caused by demons, <a href="#page194">194</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;caused by ghosts, <a href="#page56">56</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page195">195</a>, <a href="#page197">197</a>, <a href="#page222">222</a>, <a href="#page269">269</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page271">271</a>, <a href="#page279">279</a>, <a href="#page300">300</a>, <a href="#page305">305</a>, <a href="#page322">322</a>, <a href="#page372">372</a>, <a href="#page381">381</a> <i>sqq.</i>, <a href="#page389">389</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; supposed to be an effect of witchcraft, <a href="#page35">35</a> <i>sqq.</i><br/>
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page514" id="page514"></a>[pg 514]</span>
<br/>
Sickness and death set down to sorcery, <a href="#page240">240</a>, <a href="#page257">257</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; and disease recognised by some savages as due to natural causes, <a href="#page55">55</a> <i>sq.</i>
&nbsp;&nbsp;<i>See also</i> <a href="#index-disease">Disease</a><br/>
<br/>
Sido, his journey to the land of the dead, <a href="#page211">211</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Sins, confession of, <a href="#page201">201</a><br/>
<br/>
Skin cast as a means of renewing youth, <a href="#page69">69</a> <i>sqq.</i>, <a href="#page74">74</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page83">83</a><br/>
<br/>
Skull-shaped stones in rain-making, <a href="#page336">336</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
<a name="index-skulls" id="index-skulls"></a>Skulls, spirits of the dead embodied in their, <a href="#page338">338</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; and arm-bones, special treatment of the, <a href="#page199">199</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;carried by dancers at funeral dance, <a href="#page200">200</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; of the dead preserved, <a href="#page199">199</a> <i>sqq.</i>, <a href="#page209">209</a>, <a href="#page249">249</a>, <a href="#page318">318</a>, <a href="#page328">328</a>, <a href="#page339">339</a>, <a href="#page347">347</a>, <a href="#page351">351</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page398">398</a>, <a href="#page400">400</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page403">403</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;preserved and consulted as oracles, <a href="#page176">176</a>, <a href="#page178">178</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page179">179</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;used in divination, <a href="#page213">213</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;kept in men's clubhouses, <a href="#page221">221</a>, <a href="#page225">225</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;inserted in wooden images, <a href="#page311">311</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page321">321</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;religious ceremonies performed with the, <a href="#page329">329</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;food offered to the, <a href="#page339">339</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page352">352</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;used to fertilise plantations, <a href="#page340">340</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;used in conjurations, <a href="#page402">402</a><br/>
<br/>
Sky, souls of the dead thought to be in the, <a href="#page133">133</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page135">135</a>, <a href="#page138">138</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page141">141</a>, <a href="#page142">142</a><br/>
<br/>
Slain, ghosts of the, especially dreaded, <a href="#page205">205</a>, <a href="#page258">258</a>, <a href="#page279">279</a>, <a href="#page306">306</a>, <a href="#page323">323</a><br/>
<br/>
Sleep, soul thought to quit body in, <a href="#page257">257</a>, <a href="#page291">291</a>, <a href="#page395">395</a>, <a href="#page412">412</a><br/>
<br/>
Smith, E. R., <a href="#page53">53</a><br/>
<br/>
Smyth, R. Brough, <a href="#page43">43</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Snakes, ghosts in, <a href="#page380">380</a><br/>
<br/>
Sneezing, omens from, <a href="#page194">194</a><br/>
<br/>
Social progress stimulated by favourable natural conditions, <a href="#page141">141</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page148">148</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; ranks, gradation of, in Fiji, <a href="#page408">408</a><br/>
<br/>
Solomon Islands, <a href="#page343">343</a>, <a href="#page346">346</a> <i>sqq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;sacrificial ritual in the, <a href="#page365">365</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Somosomo, one of the Fijian islands, <a href="#page425">425</a>, <a href="#page441">441</a>, <a href="#page442">442</a><br/>
<br/>
Sorcerers, their importance in history, <a href="#page16">16</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; catch and detain souls, <a href="#page267">267</a>, <a href="#page268">268</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page270">270</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; put to death, <a href="#page35">35</a>, <a href="#page35">35</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page37">37</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page40">40</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page44">44</a>, <a href="#page50">50</a>, <a href="#page136">136</a>, <a href="#page250">250</a>, <a href="#page269">269</a>, <a href="#page277">277</a>, <a href="#page278">278</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page341">341</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;<i>See also</i> <a href="#index-magician">Magician</a><br/>
<br/>
<a name="index-sorcery" id="index-sorcery"></a>Sorcery as the supposed cause of natural deaths, <a href="#page33">33</a> <i>sqq.</i>, <a href="#page136">136</a>, <a href="#page268">268</a>, <a href="#page270">270</a>, <a href="#page402">402</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;sickness and death ascribed to, <a href="#page257">257</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; a cause of keeping down the population, belief in, <a href="#page38">38</a>, <a href="#page40">40</a>, <a href="#page46">46</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page51">51</a> <i>sqq.</i><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; Fijian dread of, <a href="#page413">413</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;<i>See also</i> <a href="#index-magic">Magic</a> <i>and</i> <a href="#index-witchcraft">Witchcraft</a><br/>
<br/>
Sores ascribed to action of ghosts, <a href="#page257">257</a><br/>
<br/>
<i>Soro</i>, atonement, <a href="#page427">427</a><br/>
<br/>
<a name="index-soul" id="index-soul"></a>Soul, world-wide belief in survival of soul after death, <a href="#page24">24</a>, <a href="#page25">25</a>, <a href="#page33">33</a><br/>
<br/>
Soul of sleeper detained by enemy, <a href="#page49">49</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;human, associated with shadow or reflection, <a href="#page173">173</a>, <a href="#page267">267</a>, <a href="#page395">395</a>, <a href="#page412">412</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;pretence of carrying away the, <a href="#page181">181</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;detained by demon, <a href="#page194">194</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;recovery of a lost, <a href="#page194">194</a>, <a href="#page270">270</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;thought to quit body in sleep, <a href="#page257">257</a>, <a href="#page291">291</a>, <a href="#page395">395</a>, <a href="#page412">412</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;resides in the eye, <a href="#page267">267</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;thought to pervade the body, <a href="#page267">267</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;two kinds of human, <a href="#page267">267</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;caught and detained by sorcerer, <a href="#page267">267</a>, <a href="#page268">268</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page270">270</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;long soul and short soul, <a href="#page291">291</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;of offering consumed by deity or spirit, <a href="#page297">297</a>, <a href="#page298">298</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;thought to reside in the blood, <a href="#page307">307</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;Melanesian theory of the, <a href="#page344">344</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;of sick tied up by ghost, <a href="#page374">374</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;North Melanesian theory of the, <a href="#page395">395</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;in form of animals, <a href="#page396">396</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;Fijian theory of the, <a href="#page410">410</a> <i>sqq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;caught in a scarf, <a href="#page412">412</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;of grandfather reborn in grandchild, <a href="#page417">417</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;of offerings consumed by gods, <a href="#page443">443</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; -stuff or spiritual essence, <a href="#page267">267</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page270">270</a>, <a href="#page271">271</a>, <a href="#page279">279</a>.<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;<i>See also</i> <a href="#index-spirit">Spirit</a><br/>
<br/>
Souls, recovery of lost, <a href="#page300">300</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;River of the, <a href="#page462">462</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;the killer of, <a href="#page464">464</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; of animals, sacrifices to the, <a href="#page239">239</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;of animals offered to ghosts, <a href="#page246">246</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; attributed by the Fijians to animals, vegetables, and inanimate things, <a href="#page410">410</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; of the dead identified with spirits of nature, <a href="#page130">130</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;turned into animals, <a href="#page229">229</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;as falling stars, <a href="#page229">229</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;live in trees, <a href="#page316">316</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; carried off by ghosts, <a href="#page197">197</a>, <a href="#page383">383</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;of sorcerers in animals, <a href="#page39">39</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; of noblemen only saved, <a href="#page33">33</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;of those who died from home called back, <a href="#page311">311</a><br/>
<br/>
Spells or incantations, <a href="#page385">385</a><br/>
<br/>
Spencer and Gillen, <a href="#page46">46</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page91">91</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page103">103</a>, <a href="#page104">104</a>, <a href="#page105">105</a>, <a href="#page106">106</a>, <a href="#page108">108</a>, <a href="#page116">116</a> <i>sqq.</i>, <a href="#page123">123</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page140">140</a>, <a href="#page148">148</a>, <a href="#page156">156</a>, <a href="#page157">157</a>, <a href="#page158">158</a><br/>
<br/>
Spider and Death, <a href="#page82">82</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
<a name="index-spirit" id="index-spirit"></a>Spirit, human, associated with the heart, <a href="#page129">129</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;associated with the shadow, <a href="#page129">129</a>, <a href="#page130">130</a>.<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;<i>See also</i> <a href="#index-soul">Soul</a><br/>
<br/>
<a name="index-spirits" id="index-spirits"></a>Spirits, ancestral, help hunters and fishers, <a href="#page226">226</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;worshipped in the <i>Nanga</i>, <a href="#page428">428</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;cloth and weapons offered to, <a href="#page430">430</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;novices presented to, at initiation, <a href="#page432">432</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page434">434</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; of animals go to the spirit land, <a href="#page210">210</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; consume spiritual essence of sacrifices, <a href="#page285">285</a>, <a href="#page287">287</a>, <a href="#page297">297</a>, <a href="#page298">298</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; of the dead thought to be strengthened by blood, <a href="#page159">159</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;reborn in women, <a href="#page93">93</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;give information to the living, <a href="#page240">240</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;give good crops, <a href="#page247">247</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;thought to be mischievous, <a href="#page257">257</a><br/>
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page515" id="page515"></a>[pg 515]</span>
<br/>
Spirits and ghosts, distinction between, in Central Melanesia, <a href="#page343">343</a>, <a href="#page363">363</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; and gods, no certain demarcation between, <a href="#page441">441</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash;, grand concert of, <a href="#page340">340</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;represented by masked dancers, <a href="#page297">297</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;in tree-tops, <a href="#page313">313</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash;, guardian, <a href="#page227">227</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; of nature identified with souls of the dead, <a href="#page130">130</a>.<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;<i>See also</i> <a href="#index-dead">Dead</a> <i>and</i> <a href="#index-ghost">Ghost</a><br/>
<br/>
<a name="index-spiritual-essence" id="index-spiritual-essence"></a>Spiritual essence or soul-stuff, <a href="#page267">267</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page279">279</a>.<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;<i>See also</i> <a href="#index-spiritual-essence">Soul-stuff</a><br/>
<br/>
Squatting posture of corpse in burial, <a href="#page207">207</a><br/>
<br/>
Stanbridge, W. E., <a href="#page44">44</a><br/>
<br/>
Stars associated with the souls of the dead, <a href="#page134">134</a>, <a href="#page140">140</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;little regarded by savages, <a href="#page140">140</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;falling, the souls of the dead, <a href="#page229">229</a><br/>
<br/>
Steinen, K. von den, <a href="#page35">35</a><br/>
<br/>
Sternberg, L., <a href="#page15">15</a> <i>n.</i> <a href="#footnote2">1</a><br/>
<br/>
Stick, cleft, used in cure, <a href="#page271">271</a><br/>
<br/>
Stillborn children, burial of, <a href="#page458">458</a><br/>
<br/>
Stocks, wooden, as representatives of the dead, <a href="#page374">374</a>, <a href="#page386">386</a><br/>
<br/>
Stolz, Mr., <a href="#page238">238</a>, <a href="#page239">239</a><br/>
<br/>
Stomach, soul seated in, <a href="#page291">291</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Stone, a rocking, <a href="#page213">213</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; used in rain-making, <a href="#page288">288</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; of Famine, <a href="#page334">334</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; of the Sun, <a href="#page336">336</a><br/>
<br/>
Stonehenge, <a href="#page438">438</a><br/>
<br/>
Stones, sacred, in New Caledonia, magical virtues attributed to, <a href="#page334">334</a> <i>sqq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;sacred, in sanctuaries, <a href="#page377">377</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; used as altars, <a href="#page379">379</a><br/>
<br/>
Stones inhabited by ghosts, <a href="#page383">383</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Store-houses, sacred, in Central Australia, <a href="#page99">99</a>, <a href="#page101">101</a><br/>
<br/>
Strangling the sick and aged in Fiji, <a href="#page423">423</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
<i>Sua</i>, human spirit or ghost, <a href="#page193">193</a><br/>
<br/>
Suicide to escape decrepitude of old age, <a href="#page422">422</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Suicides, burial of, <a href="#page164">164</a>, <a href="#page453">453</a>, <a href="#page458">458</a><br/>
<br/>
Sulka, the, of New Britain, <a href="#page398">398</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Sumatra, the Gajos of, <a href="#page455">455</a><br/>
<br/>
Sun and the origin of death, <a href="#page77">77</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash;, ghosts attracted to the setting, <a href="#page175">175</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash;, Stone of the, <a href="#page336">336</a><br/>
<br/>
Sunshine, the making of, <a href="#page336">336</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; and rain caused by a ghost, <a href="#page375">375</a><br/>
<br/>
Supernatural or spiritual power (<i>mana</i>) acquired from ghosts, <a href="#page346">346</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page352">352</a>, <a href="#page371">371</a>, <a href="#page380">380</a><br/>
<br/>
Superstition a crutch to morality, <a href="#page175">175</a><br/>
<br/>
Supreme Being unknown among aborigines of Central Australia, <a href="#page91">91</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;among the Monumbo, <a href="#page228">228</a><br/>
<br/>
Survival of human soul after death, world-wide belief in, <a href="#page24">24</a>, <a href="#page25">25</a>, <a href="#page33">33</a><br/>
<br/>
Swallowed by monster, pretence that candidates at initiation are, <a href="#page251">251</a> <i>sqq.</i>, <a href="#page260">260</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page290">290</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page301">301</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Swine sent to ravage fields by ghosts, <a href="#page278">278</a><br/>
<br/>
Symbolism of prayer-posts, <a href="#page333">333</a> <i>sq.</i>
</p>

<p>
Taboo, meaning of, <a href="#page390">390</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;in Central Melanesia based on a fear of ghosts, <a href="#page390">390</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;a prop of monarchical power, <a href="#page408">408</a><br/>
<br/>
<i>Tabu</i>, demon, <a href="#page194">194</a><br/>
<br/>
Tago, spirits, <a href="#page297">297</a><br/>
<br/>
Tahiti, <a href="#page439">439</a><br/>
<br/>
Tamanachiers, an Indian tribe, <a href="#page70">70</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Tami Islanders of German New Guinea, <a href="#page291">291</a> <i>sqq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Taming a ghost, <a href="#page370">370</a><br/>
<br/>
Tamos, the, of German New Guinea, <a href="#page230">230</a><br/>
<br/>
Tanna, one of the New Hebrides, <a href="#page369">369</a>, <a href="#page439">439</a><br/>
<br/>
Tanoa, king of Fiji, <a href="#page425">425</a><br/>
<br/>
Taplin, Rev. George, <a href="#page43">43</a>, <a href="#page134">134</a> <i>sqq.</i><br/>
<br/>
<i>Tapum</i>, guardian spirits, <a href="#page227">227</a><br/>
<br/>
Taro, prayer for good crop of, <a href="#page289">289</a><br/>
<br/>
Tasmanians, the, <a href="#page89">89</a><br/>
<br/>
Tattooing as sign of mourning, <a href="#page314">314</a><br/>
<br/>
Teeth of dead worn by relatives, <a href="#page314">314</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page400">400</a>, <a href="#page404">404</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;used as amulets, <a href="#page332">332</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;preserved as relics, <a href="#page339">339</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;used to fertilise plantations, <a href="#page340">340</a><br/>
<br/>
Temples (<i>paraks</i>) in Tumleo, <a href="#page220">220</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash;, Fijian, <a href="#page439">439</a>, <a href="#page441">441</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Terer, a mythical being, <a href="#page181">181</a><br/>
<br/>
Thapauerlu, a pool, <a href="#page105">105</a>, <a href="#page108">108</a><br/>
<br/>
Theology, natural, defined, <a href="#page1">1</a>, <a href="#page8">8</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; and religion, how related, <a href="#page9">9</a><br/>
<br/>
Thomson, Basil, <a href="#page408">408</a>, <a href="#page414">414</a>, <a href="#page428">428</a> <i>n.</i> <a href="#footnote691">1</a>, <a href="#page429">429</a> <i>n.</i> <a href="#footnote692">1</a>, <a href="#page434">434</a> <i>n.</i> <a href="#footnote694">1</a>, <a href="#page436">436</a><br/>
<br/>
Threats of the dying, <a href="#page273">273</a><br/>
<br/>
Three days, resurrection after, <a href="#page67">67</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Threshold, the dead carried out under the, <a href="#page453">453</a>, <a href="#page457">457</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;movable, <a href="#page457">457</a><br/>
<br/>
Thrush in story of the origin of death, <a href="#page61">61</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Thunder the voice of a mythical being, <a href="#page112">112</a>, <a href="#page114">114</a>, <a href="#page143">143</a><br/>
<br/>
<i>Tindalo</i>, a powerful ghost, <a href="#page346">346</a><br/>
<br/>
Tinneh or D&eacute;n&eacute; Indians, their ideas as to death, <a href="#page39">39</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Tlaloc, Mexican rain-god, <a href="#page163">163</a><br/>
<br/>
Tlingit Indians, <a href="#page163">163</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;burial custom of the, <a href="#page455">455</a><br/>
<br/>
To Kambinana, <a href="#page69">69</a><br/>
<br/>
To Korvuvu, <a href="#page69">69</a><br/>
<br/>
Togoland, West Africa, <a href="#page81">81</a><br/>
<br/>
Toll exacted from ghosts, <a href="#page224">224</a><br/>
<br/>
Tollkeeper, ghostly, <a href="#page224">224</a><br/>
<br/>
Tonga, <a href="#page406">406</a>, <a href="#page411">411</a><br/>
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page516" id="page516"></a>[pg 516]</span>
<br/>
Tongans, their limited doctrine of immortality, <a href="#page33">33</a><br/>
<br/>
Torres Islands, <a href="#page343">343</a>, <a href="#page353">353</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; Straits Islanders, their ideas as to sickness and death, <a href="#page47">47</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;their belief in immortality, <a href="#page170">170</a> <i>sqq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;their ethnological affinity and social culture, <a href="#page170">170</a> <i>sqq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;funeral ceremonies of the, <a href="#page176">176</a> <i>sqq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Totem, a dominant, <a href="#page113">113</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;design emblematic of, <a href="#page168">168</a><br/>
<br/>
Totemic ancestor developing into a god, <a href="#page113">113</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;ancestors, traditions concerning, <a href="#page115">115</a> <i>sqq.</i><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; animals, imitation of, <a href="#page177">177</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; clans, <a href="#page104">104</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;animals and plants eaten, <a href="#page120">120</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;animals and plants dramatically represented by actors, <a href="#page121">121</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Totemism, <a href="#page95">95</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;possibly developing into ancestor worship, <a href="#page114">114</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;in Torres Straits, <a href="#page172">172</a><br/>
<br/>
<a name="index-totems" id="index-totems"></a>Totems, dramatic ceremonies connected with, <a href="#page119">119</a> <i>sqq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;eaten, <a href="#page120">120</a> <i>sqq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;magical ceremonies for the multiplication of, <a href="#page124">124</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Tracking a ghost, <a href="#page277">277</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Traditions of the dead associated with conspicuous features of the landscape, <a href="#page115">115</a> <i>sqq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Transmigration, widespread belief in, <a href="#page29">29</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;of dead into animals, <a href="#page242">242</a>, <a href="#page245">245</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;of souls, <a href="#page322">322</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;Fijian doctrine of, <a href="#page467">467</a><br/>
<br/>
Travancore, burial custom in, <a href="#page456">456</a><br/>
<br/>
Tree of immortality, <a href="#page74">74</a><br/>
<br/>
Tree-burial, <a href="#page161">161</a>, <a href="#page166">166</a>, <a href="#page167">167</a>, <a href="#page199">199</a>, <a href="#page203">203</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;of young children, <a href="#page312">312</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; -tops, spirits in, <a href="#page313">313</a><br/>
<br/>
Trees, property of dead hung up on, <a href="#page148">148</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;as monuments of the dead, <a href="#page225">225</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;huts built in, <a href="#page263">263</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;souls of the dead live in, <a href="#page316">316</a><br/>
<br/>
Tremearne, Major A. J. N., <a href="#page28">28</a> <i>n.</i> <a href="#footnote5">1</a><br/>
<br/>
Truth of the belief in immortality, question of the, <a href="#page469">469</a> <i>sqq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Tsiabiloum, the land of the dead, <a href="#page326">326</a><br/>
<br/>
Tube inserted in grave, <a href="#page277">277</a><br/>
<br/>
Tubes, magical, <a href="#page269">269</a>, <a href="#page270">270</a><br/>
<br/>
Tubetube, island of, <a href="#page206">206</a>, <a href="#page209">209</a>, <a href="#page210">210</a><br/>
<br/>
Tugeri or Kaya-Kaya, the, of Dutch New Guinea, <a href="#page255">255</a><br/>
<br/>
Tully River in Queensland, <a href="#page130">130</a><br/>
<br/>
Tulmeng, lord of the nether world, <a href="#page286">286</a><br/>
<br/>
Tumleo, island of, <a href="#page218">218</a> <i>sqq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Tumudurere, a mythical being, <a href="#page207">207</a><br/>
<br/>
Tumupasa, burial custom of the Indians of, <a href="#page457">457</a><br/>
<br/>
Turner, Dr. George, <a href="#page325">325</a>, <a href="#page339">339</a>, <a href="#page369">369</a><br/>
<br/>
Turrbal tribe, <a href="#page146">146</a><br/>
<br/>
Tuski of Alaska, burial custom of the, <a href="#page456">456</a><br/>
<br/>
Two Messengers, the, myth of the origin of death, <a href="#page60">60</a> <i>sqq.</i>
</p>

<p>
<a name="index-uganda" id="index-uganda"></a>Uganda, first man in, <a href="#page78">78</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;dead kings of, worshipped, <a href="#page151">151</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;jawbones of dead kings of, preserved, <a href="#page235">235</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;war-god of, <a href="#page366">366</a>.<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;<i>See also</i> <a href="#index-baganda">Baganda</a><br/>
<br/>
Unburied dead, ghosts of the, <a href="#page349">349</a><br/>
<br/>
Unfruitful wife, mode of impregnating, <a href="#page417">417</a><br/>
<br/>
Unkulunkulu, <a href="#page60">60</a><br/>
<br/>
Unmarried ghosts, hard fate of, <a href="#page464">464</a><br/>
<br/>
Umatjera tribe, <a href="#page68">68</a>, <a href="#page166">166</a><br/>
<br/>
Urabunna, the, of Central Australia, <a href="#page95">95</a>
</p>

<p>
Vagueness and inconsistency of savage thought, <a href="#page143">143</a><br/>
<br/>
<i>Vale tambu</i>, the Sacred House, <a href="#page438">438</a><br/>
<br/>
Vanigela River, <a href="#page202">202</a>, <a href="#page203">203</a><br/>
<br/>
Vanua Lava, mountain, <a href="#page355">355</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; -levu, one of the Fijian Islands, <a href="#page416">416</a>, <a href="#page417">417</a>, <a href="#page418">418</a>, <a href="#page426">426</a><br/>
<br/>
Vat&eacute; or Efat, one of the New Hebrides, <a href="#page359">359</a>, <a href="#page376">376</a><br/>
<br/>
Vengeance taken on enemies by means of a ghost, <a href="#page258">258</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;ghost calls for, <a href="#page278">278</a>, <a href="#page310">310</a>, <a href="#page468">468</a><br/>
<br/>
Vetter, Konrad, <a href="#page242">242</a>, <a href="#page244">244</a>, <a href="#page245">245</a>, <a href="#page248">248</a>, <a href="#page255">255</a><br/>
<br/>
Vicarious sacrifices of pigs for the sick, <a href="#page372">372</a>, <a href="#page374">374</a>, <a href="#page375">375</a><br/>
<br/>
Victoria, aborigines of, their ideas as to natural death, <a href="#page40">40</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page42">42</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;their beliefs as to the dead, <a href="#page142">142</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;their burial customs, <a href="#page145">145</a>, <a href="#page145">145</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;cuttings for the dead among the, <a href="#page154">154</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Views of human nature, two different, <a href="#page469">469</a> <i>sqq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Village of ghosts, <a href="#page231">231</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page234">234</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; deserted after a death, <a href="#page275">275</a><br/>
<br/>
Viti Levu, one of the Fijian Islands, <a href="#page419">419</a>, <a href="#page428">428</a>, <a href="#page435">435</a>, <a href="#page445">445</a><br/>
<br/>
Vormann, Franz, <a href="#page228">228</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Vuatom, island, <a href="#page70">70</a>
</p>

<p>
Wagawaga, in British New Guinea, <a href="#page206">206</a> <i>sqq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Wainimala in Fiji, <a href="#page436">436</a><br/>
<br/>
Wakelbura, the, <a href="#page152">152</a><br/>
<br/>
Wallace, Alfred Russel, on death, <a href="#page85">85</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
War, ancestral images taken to, <a href="#page310">310</a>, <a href="#page315">315</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;perpetual state of, <a href="#page339">339</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; -god of Uganda, <a href="#page366">366</a><br/>
<br/>
Warramunga, the, of Central Australia, <a href="#page94">94</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;their totem the Wollunqua, <a href="#page103">103</a> <i>sqq.</i>, <a href="#page108">108</a> <i>sqq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;dramatic ceremonies connected with totems among the, <a href="#page123">123</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;cuttings for the dead among the, <a href="#page156">156</a> <i>sqq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;burial customs of the, <a href="#page167">167</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Warrior ghost, <a href="#page363">363</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Warriors pray to ghosts, <a href="#page288">288</a><br/>
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page517" id="page517"></a>[pg 517]</span>
<br/>
Wars among savages undertaken to appease angry ghosts, <a href="#page468">468</a><br/>
<br/>
Wa-Sania, tribe of E. Africa, <a href="#page66">66</a><br/>
<br/>
Washing body a rain-charm, <a href="#page375">375</a><br/>
<br/>
Watch-an-die, tribe of W. Australia, <a href="#page41">41</a><br/>
<br/>
Watch at the grave, <a href="#page293">293</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; of widow or widower on grave, <a href="#page241">241</a><br/>
<br/>
Water as a barrier against ghosts, <a href="#page152">152</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;poured as a rain-charm, <a href="#page375">375</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; great, to be crossed by ghosts, <a href="#page224">224</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; -snake, great mythical (Wollunqua), <a href="#page104">104</a> <i>sqq.</i>, <a href="#page108">108</a> <i>sqq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Way to the land of the dead, <a href="#page212">212</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Weakening of religious faith, <a href="#page4">4</a><br/>
<br/>
Weapons deposited with the dead, <a href="#page145">145</a> <i>sqq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;deposited at grave, <a href="#page211">211</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;of dead broken, <a href="#page399">399</a><br/>
<br/>
Weather regulated by ghosts and spirits, <a href="#page384">384</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; -doctors, <a href="#page385">385</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Weaving in New Guinea, <a href="#page305">305</a><br/>
<br/>
Weismann, August, on death, <a href="#page84">84</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Wemba, the, of Northern Rhodesia, <a href="#page77">77</a><br/>
<br/>
<a name="index-western-australia" id="index-western-australia"></a>Western Australia, beliefs as to death among the natives of, <a href="#page41">41</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Whale's teeth as offerings, <a href="#page420">420</a>, <a href="#page421">421</a>, <a href="#page429">429</a>, <a href="#page443">443</a>, <a href="#page444">444</a><br/>
<br/>
Whip of souls, <a href="#page270">270</a><br/>
<br/>
Whipping men in mourning, <a href="#page452">452</a><br/>
<br/>
White ants' nests, ghosts turn into, <a href="#page351">351</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; clay smeared on mourners, <a href="#page158">158</a>, <a href="#page177">177</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; men identified with the spirits of the dead, <a href="#page342">342</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; people, souls of dead Australian aborigines thought to be reborn in, <a href="#page130">130</a>, <a href="#page131">131</a> <i>sqq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Whitened with chalk, bodies of lads after circumcision, <a href="#page302">302</a><br/>
<br/>
Widow, mourning costume of, <a href="#page184">184</a>, <a href="#page204">204</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;seclusion of, <a href="#page204">204</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;killed to accompany the ghost of her husband, <a href="#page249">249</a>, <a href="#page275">275</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;drinks juices of putrefying corpse, <a href="#page313">313</a><br/>
<br/>
Widower exposed to attacks of his wife's ghost, <a href="#page197">197</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;costume of, <a href="#page204">204</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;seclusion of, <a href="#page204">204</a>, <a href="#page248">248</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page259">259</a><br/>
<br/>
Widows cut and burn their bodies in mourning, <a href="#page176">176</a><br/>
<br/>
Wigs worn by Fijians, <a href="#page451">451</a><br/>
<br/>
Wiimbaio tribe, <a href="#page145">145</a><br/>
<br/>
Wilkes, Charles, <a href="#page424">424</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Williams, Thomas, <a href="#page408">408</a>, <a href="#page412">412</a>, <a href="#page413">413</a>, <a href="#page452">452</a>, 467<br/>
<br/>
Williamson, R. W., <a href="#page201">201</a><br/>
<br/>
Wind, ghosts float down the, <a href="#page176">176</a><br/>
<br/>
Windessi, in Dutch New Guinea, burial customs at, <a href="#page318">318</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
<i>Wingara</i>, early mythical times, <a href="#page116">116</a><br/>
<br/>
<a name="index-witchcraft" id="index-witchcraft"></a>Witchcraft, fear of, <a href="#page244">244</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;death ascribed to, <a href="#page277">277</a>, <a href="#page402">402</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;Fijian terror of, <a href="#page413">413</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;benefits derived from, <a href="#page414">414</a><br/>
<br/>
Witchcraft or black magic in Central Melanesia, <a href="#page386">386</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; as a cause of death, <a href="#page34">34</a> <i>sqq.</i><br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;<i>See also</i> <a href="#index-sorcery">Sorcery</a><br/>
<br/>
Witchetty grub totem, dramatic ceremonies concerned with, <a href="#page121">121</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#page123">123</a><br/>
<br/>
Wives of the dead killed, <a href="#page399">399</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;strangled or buried alive at their husbands' funerals in Fiji, <a href="#page424">424</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Woibu, the land of the dead, <a href="#page211">211</a><br/>
<br/>
Wolgal tribe, <a href="#page146">146</a><br/>
<br/>
Wollunqua, mythical water-snake, totem of the Warramunga, <a href="#page103">103</a> <i>sqq.</i>, <a href="#page108">108</a> <i>sqq.</i>, <a href="#page125">125</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;ceremonies in honour of the, <a href="#page108">108</a> <i>sqq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Woman, old, in myths of the origin of death, <a href="#page64">64</a>, <a href="#page71">71</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash;, the Great, <a href="#page464">464</a><br/>
<br/>
Women thought not to have immortal spirits, <a href="#page92">92</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;cut and burn their bodies in mourning, <a href="#page154">154</a> <i>sqq.</i>, <a href="#page196">196</a>, <a href="#page203">203</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;excluded from circumcision ground, <a href="#page291">291</a>, <a href="#page301">301</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;dance at deaths, <a href="#page293">293</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;drink juices of putrefying corpse, <a href="#page355">355</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;not allowed to be present at sacrifices, <a href="#page367">367</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;whip men in mourning, <a href="#page452">452</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;burial of childless, <a href="#page458">458</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;the cause of death, <a href="#page472">472</a><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; dying in childbed, special treatment of their ghosts, <a href="#page358">358</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;their ghosts specially feared, <a href="#page212">212</a>, <a href="#page458">458</a> <i>sqq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Wordsworth on immortality, <a href="#page26">26</a> <i>n.</i> <a href="#footnote4">1</a><br/>
<br/>
Worship of ancestors, <a href="#page221">221</a>, <a href="#page328">328</a> <i>sqq.</i>, <a href="#page338">338</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;predominance of the, <a href="#page297">297</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;possibly evolved from totemism, <a href="#page114">114</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;<i>See also</i> <a href="#index-worship-of-dead">Worship of the dead</a>.<br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; of ancestors in Central Australia, possible evolution of, <a href="#page125">125</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;of ancestral spirits in the <i>Nanga</i>, <a href="#page428">428</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; <a name="index-worship-of-dead" id="index-worship-of-dead"></a>of the dead, <a href="#page23">23</a> <i>sqq.</i>, <a href="#page328">328</a> <i>sqq.</i>, <a href="#page338">338</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;in part based on a theory of dreams, <a href="#page27">27</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;elements of it widespread, <a href="#page31">31</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;in British New Guinea, <a href="#page201">201</a> <i>sq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;predominance of the, <a href="#page297">297</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; of the dead, incipient, in Australia, <a href="#page149">149</a>, <a href="#page150">150</a>, <a href="#page168">168</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
&mdash;&mdash; of the dead in Torres Straits, elements of a, <a href="#page189">189</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;among the Yabim, elements of a, <a href="#page255">255</a><br/>
<br/>
Worshipful ghosts, <a href="#page362">362</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Wotjobaluk, the, <a href="#page67">67</a>, <a href="#page139">139</a><br/>
<br/>
Wraiths, <a href="#page396">396</a><br/>
<br/>
Wurunjerri, the, <a href="#page146">146</a>
</p>

<p>
Yabim, the, of German New Guinea, <a href="#page242">242</a> <i>sqq.</i>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;their ideas as to death, <a href="#page47">47</a><br/>
<br/>
Yams, prayers for, <a href="#page330">330</a>;<br/>
&nbsp;&nbsp;stones to make yams grow, <a href="#page337">337</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Young children buried on trees, <a href="#page312">312</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page518" id="page518"></a>[pg 518]</span>
<br/>
Young and old, difference between the modes of burying, <a href="#page161">161</a>, <a href="#page162">162</a> <i>sq.</i><br/>
<br/>
Youth supposed to be renewed by casting skin, <a href="#page69">69</a> <i>sqq.</i>, <a href="#page74">74</a> <i>sq.</i>, 83<br/>
<br/>
Ysabel, one of the Solomon Islands, <a href="#page350">350</a>, <a href="#page372">372</a>, <a href="#page379">379</a>, <a href="#page380">380</a><br/>
<br/>
Yule Island, <a href="#page196">196</a> <i>n.</i> <a href="#footnote319">2</a>, <a href="#page197">197</a>
</p>

<p>
Zahn, Heinrich, <a href="#page242">242</a>, <a href="#page244">244</a><br/>
<br/>
Zend-Avesta, <a href="#page453">453</a><br/>
<br/>
Zulus, their story of the origin of death, <a href="#page60">60</a> <i>sq.</i>
</p>

<p>END OF VOL. I</p>

<hr class="full" />

<span class="pagenum"><a name="page520" id="page520"></a>[pg 520]</span>




<p><b>Works by J. G. FRAZER, D.C.L., LL.D., Litt.D.</b></p>


<p><b>THE GOLDEN BOUGH</b></p>

<p>A STUDY IN MAGIC AND RELIGION</p>

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<p>VII. <span class="sc">Balder the Beautiful.</span>         (<i>Spring</i>, 1913.)</p>

<blockquote><p>
<i>TIMES.</i>&mdash;"The verdict of posterity will probably be that <i>The Golden Bough</i> has
influenced the attitude of the human mind towards supernatural beliefs and symbolical
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<span class="pagenum"><a name="page521" id="page521"></a>[pg 521]</span>

<p><b>TOTEMISM AND EXOGAMY.</b> A Treatise on
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may express our own belief at the risk of offending Prof. Frazer's characteristic
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Dr. Frazer has given us two volumes that are an unqualified joy."
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<p>MACMILLAN AND CO., <span class="sc">Ltd.</span>, LONDON.</p>
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